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runawayolives · 3 months

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So for baby daddy Nate: when they are older and married reader can't handle anymore and they both fight she ask for divorce but the kid hear it.? Hope you write about this.

This isn't canon, I think.

This belongs to Baby Daddy.

"I think we should get a divorce."

"What?"

"I said that I think we should get a divorce."

"I heard you the first time."

The Jacobs' household was soaked in silence, the two young adults in the kitchen after setting their kid to bed. Nate was sitting on the armchair near the kitchen island, while she was cleaning the remaining of dinner. He stood up, walking towards his wife, invading her personal space.

"Can I know where this is coming from?" The faucet had been dripping for a bit, probably because it knew breaking the silence was its new task.

"I don't think we need to be married." Her hand was gripping a damp towel, hyper-focusing in a little circle of coffee from that morning. "We aren't a married couple, we're just two adults living in a house and raising a child."

"Who's fault is that?"

"Don't blame me." The circle was finally gone. "You were the one who married a woman who never wanted you." Their eyes met for the fist time since they put their child to bed.

"Don't say that shit."

"Mommy? Daddy? I'm thirsty." Both young adults turned around to look at the small figure standing by the hallway. The way they were gripping the doorway and their half hidden body proved that the child had been there for longer.

"Mommy will get you some." Quickly she turned around to fill a plastic cup with water. "Here hon. Do you need help going back to bed?"

"I want daddy to do it." Those big brown eyes were too hard to deny, making Nate walk forward.

"Come on, Jojo, I'll read you another story." He lifted his child to his hip, somehow still dwarfing the child, as if they hadn't grown since they were still a baby.

"Goodnight mommy."

"Goodnight, baby."

The staircase was full of picture frames of the young family, at the park, the zoo, on christmas. Endless memories that his stupid wife wanted to throw away because she was a quitter and a coward.

"What were you and mommy talking about?"

"Nothing you have to worry about."

"You were mad. Is mommy in trouble? Should she sit on the step?" Jojo was the most terrifying child Nate had ever met. The big eyes, the big cheeks and their calm nature made them look like a small victorian child that had seen too much. Jojo had a normal childhood, two parents that loved them, friends, and two set of grandparents that spoiled the kid a bit too much. Normal, very normal child.

Nate thought all the weird things that came out of Jojo were her fault. She burdened their child, he knew it. Jojo played like any other kid, Jojo had the same taste buds as any other kid. But Jojo asked uncomfortable questions and would stare at you for a bit too long, as if the five year-old was trying to figure you out.

She spent too much time raising the child, got bored because she's a stupid selfish bitch and decided to treat Jojo like an adult. Too many books, too many paintings and too many museums.

Jojo loved their mom, and Nate was envious. Not because Jojo didn't love Nate, but because looking at them proved what relationships between mother and child could be. Martha hadn't been present, she was home, and she picked him up from school, but his dad was the one in charge of raising him.

Seeing Jojo and Y/N somehow was the Universe or whatever entity rubbing it his face. You had the potential for having this, but you didn't.

The white walls of his kid's room were covered in little scribbles on the wall, something they hadn't bothered in correcting as long as it was only in these walls. The dinosaur lamp was still on, spreading the room in the light green light. Some story books were laying on the ground, and some books. Original versions of classics such as Little Women and To kill a mockingbird laid besides The very humgry caterpillar and The Giving tree.

During the walk up and the small back rubs Nate was giving Jojo, the five-year old had fallen asleep, long eyelashes tickling their cheeks. The toddler was set on the brand new ocean life bed sheets, their latest obsession, and immediately started hugging the handmade-crochet whale they had made with their mom's help.

After setting the kid to sleep and kissing their small forehead, Nate went downstairs. His wife was were he left her, this time with a mug between her hands.

"If you think I'll give you a divorce and let you separate me from my son, you're way stupider than I thought."

#runawayolives #x reader #euphoria #nate jacobs #nate jacobs x reader #baby daddy #jacob elordi #x you #dad!nate jacobs #euphoria hbo #Jacob elordi x you #jacob elordi imagine #jacob elordi x reader #baby daddy universe #baby daddy ask #nate jacobs oneshot #Nate jacobs imagine

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kimberly-spirits13 · 7 months

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Imagine You’re in School with Jason (AP Lit Style)

You’ve been basic friends for a while

Just the type that can have a good laugh but don’t know everything about each other

He’s probably not the first person you’d go to if you’re upset about something but he’s still considered a friend

That is until you start having all your classes together

I’d imagine that if you’re like me, your both taking the most AP classes that you like

AP Lit is the favorite

He loves Anna Karenina because it’s like a TLC show for the Victorian Russians

Jason is a stationary guy, so in class he’s got washi tape to mark chapter sets, non bleed highlighters, microns, little post its, see through post-its, book marks, nice mechanical pencils and refills, and it’s all in a brown leather pencil case

He likes Socratic seminars because he likes to talk about the books

He likes essays but always have to have a page limit given to him because he will write a full book about his thoughts on the book

In class, he’s always asking you what you think about something and he likes that you two can keep up with each other

I don’t think he’s the boy to be hyper concerned with grades, but because he understands his lessons, he naturally makes pretty good grades

You’re assigned a group project where you and Jason decide to partner up to do a poster of Anna Karenina

When you come over to his house for the English project, he has all the supplies and he suddenly realizes that he’s a bit embarrassed about it

“So Alfred (me) may have gone a bit overboard but we can do something simple if you’d like- or idk make it nice”

Please help this man decorate this stupid poster board

Alfred makes your favorite type of drink or gets it, makes food, you two put on a movie or some music, and get to work

“So what do you think is important about Karenin and Vronsky having the same first names?”

“I think it’s important for theme that Anna was introduced with a train and died by train”

“Betsy is a bitch”

He loves to talk about it with you

Once you’re done with the project, he asks you to come over and do homework together

If you’re a vigilante, you’ll do patrol after because you two connect the dots quickly

If you’re normal, suddenly Jason has to run off and says Alfred will take you home but we’ll talk about that another day

For time purposes, we’ll say that you quickly find out about his patrol life

I mean dude comes bruised, he gets called to the basement a lot, he’s a true crime buff, sometimes he goes missing for hours, and it’s Gotham like come on everyone might as well be a vigilante or smt

Dick teases Jason about you two, especially when you’re over

You can’t help that you get cold watching the 6 hour long Pride and Prejudice movie and Jason is right there like come on Dick

Jason is lokey blushing soooo hard if you cuddle up next to him or even if you’re on the same couch

You two start to become inseparable at school

Not in a pda way but like a “I mean we might as well just hang out all the time” kind of way

Automatically becomes your date to any sort of school function

Even if it’s an unspoken thing that you two will be each other’s date, he still gets you flowers and asks you to go with him

Dick eventually pushes him to ask you out because “for real dude we all know you’re crushing”

Jason is a tall dude, towers over everyone, bulked up, dark hair, dark blue eyes, he’s gorgeous and everyone else are the ones intimidated by him

But when he asks you out he is so nervous

I mean the logical part of him is pretty sure that you’ll like him back, but the irrational part is terrified that he is about to mess up your friendship

He asks you at the end of the school day on a Friday incase you say no, there’s a weekend to get over it and he won’t ruin both of y’all’s days by asking during first period or something

When you say yes he’s like “😱” and a part of him is reborn or smt dramatic like that

He basically speeds home and endures the lecture from Alfred on reckless driving

He’s even more excited that you asked if he wanted to go to the park or the bookstore

And he’s like YESSSSSSSSSSS

You two have enormous text message conversations and he likes to FaceTime

Please I think he’s a hot chocolate junkie

He’s got all sorts of mugs ranging from regular white ones to fandom ones

Sweat pants king and he’ll give you any sweat set you want

Or oversized t shirts

He thinks pda at school it gross (it is) so he keeps it on the down low but he’ll definitely hug you or run his fingers through your hair if one of you needs it

He likes playing with your hair because it’s soothing

Please watch documentaries and period dramas with him

Or book to screen adaptations that are good

#dc x reader #dc comics #dc characters #batfam x reader #batboys x reader #batfam #jason todd x you #jason todd imagine #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x y/n #red hood x gender neutral reader #red hood x y/n #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood imagine

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m1ssunderstanding · 3 months

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Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day 14

Who is this talking to Ringo? Press? A boy scruff? Someone who wants their project produced by Apple? He tries George too.

Again, I love the "freak-out" as John calls it. They really could've had so much fun together under different circumstances. (Different being neither of them ever dated John) But John's so sweet saying, "Id like it to be part of her new LP. Our new LP."

I wonder what Robert Fraser thought of the beard.

Why are we playing 20 Flight Rock now, Paul? It's just overlayed over a montage to change "scenes", but I wonder what the real context was.

Billy. What a little ray of sunshine honestly.

"So what should we do that's fun? Besides work?" I feel like every day, John has a little adorable quote, and this is today's. Words to live by.

I don't remember if Get Back includes the "Oh Darling" version where John's answering back between lines in conversation with the lyrics. I sincerely hope so. Peter Jackson was probably like "well I can only include so much homosexuality before people have too many questions."

Ringo, you smooth criminal. I love that he just has this trick he learned as a teenager that the Beatles were all impressed by, back when Ringo was the scary gangster with the car and the beard, and he still does it for them like ten years later. It's so endearing.

Another cute John and Yoko moment: "It's just that screaming all the way." "Poor John." "Yes, it's so terrible." She's teasing him and being sweet to him at the same time. Cuties.

George asks Paul where his Rickenbacker is. "Isn't that one much better?" And Paul makes up some shit about the Hoffner being lighter. You nostalgic little bitch. Poor baby.

John's little guilty look at the camera when he's almost just taken something on film. It's cute. He looks like a naughty kid. But it's kind of a cool moment. It shows just how relaxed and natural he is. He's not performing for or worried about the cameras at all. What we're seeing of him today is just him. You know? Idk I think it's nice.

What's with the little pigeon noises in the middle of a recording, guys? They're so weird smh

Poor Glyn. He's just trying to do his job and he has to deal with fucking Leopold and Leob over here. He gives them some instruction. There's a look between the two of them. And then it's all, "Don't interrupt" "Hey son" "Stahhs when" "Hey" "they're recording. We're bloody Stahhs you know." "Look fuckface. Don't comment." "The cheek." The impenetrable wall of Lennon and McCartney, folks.

"Well, we'll have to do it sitting down. Or we get too excited." It's heartbreaking to me how obvious it is that they're still just having the absolute time of their lives together and that, as John put it, "the minutes are crumbling away."

Literally what the hell is with Dennis smacking Paul's ass (as like a 'good job, your band wants to put your song out as the single' I guess) and nobody reacting? Linda would've been like "ope, time to find a new head of Apple films." (Dave Spinoza on RAM, anyone?) He really does look so proud of himself, though. Happy for you, baby.

Oh, right, that's what Robert thinks. Paul looks like his working class fantasy. (DH Lawrence. Victorian Miner.)

And I'm just going to add this, since Peter Jackson REFUSES. Paul: Can't afford to mess around here, you know. Then

#paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #ringo starr #george harrison #get back

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hippolotamus · 2 months

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Inspiration Saturday

Tagged by my love @disasterbuckdiaz @tizniz @fortheloveofbuddie @spotsandsocks @diazsdimples thank you lovelies 🥰

An idea that’s been swirling around a bit and all the words are direct from my brain to your dash (sorry) 🫠

“One. One drink,” Natalia reminds Ash once they clear security and make it into the club. She fidgets with the curls falling over her eyes. It’s useless, really. Every time she moves them away they fall right back.

“Yes, darling, I knoooow.” Ash rests the back of her hand on her forehead like a Victorian maiden. “It’s been such a week and you have the Thompsons coming in on Monday.”

“Ash-“ Natalia pouts when her friend interrupts her again. Doesn’t she get it? The business is finally taking off. People are getting more comfortable with talking about death and saying their goodbyes while they’re still alive.

“Nat, babe, I get it. I do. Which is why we’re here. Because for someone that deals with the Soon To Be Deceased you have forgotten how to live. There is more than this business. Honey, you need to let go a little.”

Natalia bristles at the implication that she’s not fun anymore. That she’s all work and no play. It’s not wrong but it still hurts being called on the carpet for it.

“Here.” Ash picks two shots of tequila off the bar and hands one to her. “Don’t give me that bullshit about how it makes you too loose. We have all weekend to recover. Drink up, bitch.”

Ash clinks their glasses together before they down their drinks. It burns worse than Nat remembers and she has to hold back from coughing and sputtering. To Ash’s credit, it does help. Her limbs already feel more relaxed and the stress of dealing with clients melts away for the first time in weeks.

“C’mon, let’s check out our prospects.” Ash whirls them both toward the crowd. A writhing sea of bodies moving in time to the thumping bass. The scene is almost ethereal, cast under the muted lighting.

Platforms of varying heights are strategically placed throughout the dance floor, each with their own unique features. One has a pole in the center that reaches up to the ceiling. Another is surrounded by a cage with an opening to easily walk in and out of. But it’s the platform without any decoration or adornments that catches Natalia’s attention. Rather the woman dancing on it.

She has short blond hair, already beginning to mat against her forehead. A sheen of sweat glistens on her tan skin. Natalia’s throat goes dry taking in the sleeveless black leather corset, tied neatly down the front. It bleeds seamlessly into skintight leather pants. Nat suddenly has the urge to kneel down in front of the woman — on the platform surrounded by everyone would be fine — to mouth at the supple material and hope for the chance to do more. Maybe the long, slender fingers would fist in her hair, hold her in place, tell her she might earn the chance to-

“Earth to Natalia.” Ash snaps her fingers, drawing Nat back to the present.

Her cheeks flush a deep crimson at the prospect of being caught staring.

“Huh, didn’t realize that was your scene,” Ash comments. “You should join her.”

There’s a million reasons why that can’t happen. Not the least of which is how fucking confident and gorgeous this woman is. Like she could point to anyone in the room and have them. Then, like Nat’s thoughts are being broadcast to the universe, the woman angles her body in their direction. She licks her lips and smirks. But it had to be at Ash right? Or someone else. Anyone other than Natalia.

Nat tries to laugh it off, ready to tease her friend about it. But when she looks, Ash isn’t there. Her gaze drifts back to the platform and there’s no doubt who the woman was looking at before. Because she’s studying Natalia like prey.

Ash told Nat to live a little. But maybe being devoured wouldn’t be such a terrible thing.

no pressure tagging @stereopticons @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @giddyupbuck @watchyourbuck @diazsdimples @elvensorceress @wikiangela @honestlydarkprincess @monsterrae1 @gayedmundodiaz @lemonzestywrites @buddierights @eowon @apothecarose @buckaroosheart @jesuisici33 @wildlife4life @the-likesofus @hoodie-buck @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @heartshapedvows @loserdiaz @statueinthestone @barbiediaz @singlethread @ladydorian05 @steadfastsaturnsrings @weewootruck @spaceprincessem @vanillahigh00 @chaosandwolves @thewolvesof1998 @theotherbuckley @maygrantgf and anyone else who wants to share 😘

#idk where all these words came from #it was just supposed to be a tiny snippet 🫣#anyway #inspiration saturday #lutalia #lutalia wip #first meeting #hippo writes #it’s gonna be a goooood time #furthering the lutalia agenda

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tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors · 1 year

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Vi vi vi I need to know immediately you saw a girl so pretty you FAINTED????

Re: the authors note on beloved- You canNOT say that you saw a girl so pretty you fainted and not tell us the story. Come on! Please 🥺(from @neil-kumiko)

be the violet

you are a young college drop out of twenty carrying around a mound of student debt and and an undiagnosed heart condition.

(This condition is called POTS, aka Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome aka Stand Up Fall Down Disease

What this means is that your body is unequipped to handle any disruption to its homeostasis without having a very petulant fit, dropping your blood pressure into the abyss, and removing all the blood from your brain. this is, as i'm sure you've guessed, not good. I'm sure you can see where this is going.)

so off you fuck to find someone willing to hire your squirrelly barely-medicated ass, and you wind up working in a Store, which we will call, for the sake of anonymity, Gollar Deneral. Gollar Deneral does not require any references nor physical aptitude confirmation, which sucks for them because they just hired the modern equivalent of a tight-laced victorian maiden with consumption

you are a cashier in this store (tho at Gollar Deneral, as I'm sure you are aware, that means you are an "everything" at this store). you are also autistic, and hate every brain-melting hell-screaming minute of this exercise in human restraint. to conserve even one or two of the veritable cutlery drawer of spoons it takes to do this job, you do not make eye contact unless strictly necessary

this will be your undoing

things that count as "disruption of homeostasis" to your shoddy meatsuit are what other bodies would describe as 'piddly little bitch tasks.' moving too quickly from one position to another, falling asleep too quickly, any amount of sweating or heat. this includes rapid increases in your heart BPM

you greet the customer but do not look at her. you finish scanning her items, briefly glance up for your customary microsecond of eye contact, and-

the room

starts

spinning

This, as you know, being me, is the alarm that POTS helpfully sets off seconds before disaster. "Sit down immediately!" says POTS, in the language of blacking out and your tongue going numb

Flutter flutter, says your heart, which in this body is a category five hurricane of an emergency

you see, this woman who has stopped at the register, is the most beautiful woman you've ever seen. her hair is obsidian black and shot through with dark browns and silvers, making it look like a three dimension river of soil, an Oread in the flesh. Her skin is the warm gold-brown of patina-ed oak wood, and she's wearing a matching leggings + coat + hat combo in dark purple wool, looking like she stepping out of a fairytale.

And you, since you are me, are very, very gay.

she furrows her brows at your sudden slack jawed silence, because the thing about not having blood in your brain is that your brain does not work when there's no blood in it

"Are you okay?" she says, setting her bare hand on your arm.

Congrats!

You are now unconscious.

When you are done doing your very impressive washed-up-jellyfish impression on the floor behind the counter and come to, your boss is already standing over you, having called an ambulance for your gay ass before you rejoined the landing of the living.

And the Night Angel, the Mountain Siren, she slumps in relief ("a kind heart! truly the most perfect woman to ever live!" says the part of your brain that has become a blithering moron in the face of pretty girl) and smiles (soft!! benevolent!! moonstruck in her light you are!)

"I'm so glad you're okay."

She does not wait for you to respond before leaving, which is good, because you almost fainted again there, just a little, and now you're revisiting the problem with brains and lack of blood again, you know how it is.

The EMTs arrive, and you spend the next twenty minutes trying to avoid admitting that the reason you had the organic version of a blue screen of death because you were, literally, too gay to function

#violet.txt

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andithiel · 1 year

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The secret language of flowers

Another contribution to the @hdcandyheartsfest for the prompt "bouquet". I was heavily inspired by the classic tumblr "fuck you" bouquet, and it's companion mentioned in the notes, the "fuck me" bouquet. As always, a massive thank you my lovely friend @crazybutgood for the beta and flailing and for making me blush 🥰

Drarry | 2,3k (!) | Teen and up for mentions of naughty things happening

“Draco, dear, stop fidgeting.”

Draco looked up at Pansy sitting across the table from him, a heap of textbooks between them.

“I’m not fidgeting.”

“Okay. Could you then please stop this masturbation replacement and focus on our exam revision?”

He glared at her smirking face and stopped bouncing his leg up and down.

“Thank you.” Pansy smiled sweetly. “Now, could you please pass me the anatomy books?”

He handed them over with a sigh, when there was a tap on his kitchen window. A small brown owl with a flowery scarf tied around its neck sat waiting on the window sill. Draco bolted from his seat to let it in. It stuck out its leg towards him, revealing a scroll of parchment. Draco took it gently and let the bird perch on his owl stand while procuring an owl treat from his cabinet. He rolled out the parchment, chuckling in delight. “Oh dear, they really outdid themselves, this is perfect!”

“What is it?” Pansy got up from her chair and peeked over his shoulder. “A picture of a bouquet?”

He grinned. “It’s a drawn preview for a bouquet I ordered. Let me just approve it real quick and send it back with this owl. I want it delivered as soon as possible.”

He signed the form, dropped the correct amount of money into the owl’s pouch, and sent it on its way.

“Who’s the special one?” Pansy asked. “You haven’t told me you’re seeing anyone.”

“Oh, I’m not seeing anyone, it’s a bouquet of spite.” He turned to her, startling a bit at her demeanour with her arms crossed over her chest, leaning on one hip, eyes flashing. Pansy could be really fucking scary, and in any other situation, he’d be terrified now. But this time, he hadn’t done anything wrong, and she’d probably even enjoy his plan.

“A bouquet of spite?” She raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him. “Let me guess: it’s for Potter.”

“How did you—?”

“Oh, please, as if half the class haven’t seen you eye-fucking each other since we started healer training. It was only a matter of time before you made it official.”

“We’re not— I’m not—” Draco spluttered. “This is a bouquet of spite!” He waved the parchment at her, then forced himself to calm down. Being upset would only undermine his point, even if his indignation came from being horribly misinterpreted. “Look,” he said, more calmly now. “Look at this and tell me it’s not the greatest way to send Potter the Sanctimonius Prick a heartfelt ‘fuck you’.”

He held up the drawing of the bouquet he’d ordered the day before, thrusting it towards Pansy, but she maintained her usual resting bitch face (although Draco knew perfectly well that the bitch was never resting).

“All I see is a collection of pretty flowers. Very striking, if I may say so.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, don’t you see the symbolism?”

“What symbolism?”

“The symbolism of the flowers!” he said, suddenly feeling unsure. Was she playing stupid or was she really not familiar with the Victorian flower language? “Here, we’ve got geraniums for stupidity, foxglove for insincerity—”

“Have you met Potter? He’s the most sincere person in the world.”

“Yes, thank you, Pansy, I’ve noticed that. That’s the point,” Draco sighed. “Anyway, I also picked meadowsweet for uselessness, yellow carnations to say ‘you have disappointed me’, and finally orange lilies for hatred. Ergo: ‘fuck you’ in flowers.”

“Which secret language is this?”

“Pansy, my dear, the Victorian flower language is common knowledge, surely you know all of this already?”

Pansy was silent for long seconds, chewing the inside of her cheek, still with her arms crossed. She reminded him of a cobra waiting to strike. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore.

“What?”

She shrugged. “Seems like an inordinate amount of money and time to spend just to tell someone you loathe them.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered, sitting down again with his school books. “Let’s continue revising, shall we?”

💐💐💐

The rest of the day, Draco was in jitters. He couldn’t wait to see how Potter would react to the flowers. Would he be furious? Would he cry? Or worse, would he not care?

He got his answer later in the evening. He’d waved Pansy off and snuggled up on his sofa to read his favourite medical romance novel, when there was an urgent knock on the door. He groaned in frustration and considered disobeying his upbringing by simply pretending he wasn’t at home, but when there was another, even more persistent knock, he reluctantly left his cosy fortress and went to answer it. To his surprise, Potter was standing outside.

“Oh, Draco,” he said breathlessly, as if he was taken by surprise to see Draco and hadn’t just come over to accost him.

“Potter? What are you doing here?”

Draco realised that Potter had probably come to fight him because of the flowers, and Draco had foolishly left his wand on the coffee table.

“I, er… I came to thank you for the flowers, I…” Potter chuckled, looking down at his feet and then up at Draco with flushed cheeks and a glint in his eyes that Draco’d never seen before. Except when they were fighting. “Can I come in?” he said, and Draco wasn’t sure if it was his imagination or if Potter’s voice always sounded this… husky.

He was so flabbergasted by the request that it didn’t even occur to him to deny it, so he merely opened the door further and let Potter step inside. He closed it, and then Potter was so damn close, so much so that Draco could smell his aftershave and the hint of sweat underneath; it made his head spin.

“I have to admit I— I’ve thought about it, I mean, thought about us, but… I think I’ve been afraid to really think about it because I wasn’t sure if you’d feel the same,” Potter said, his lips so close to Draco’s ear that his breath tickled Draco’s skin, sending shivers down his spine.

“Sorry?” Draco squeaked.

“The flowers,” Potter said, drawing back to look Draco in the eyes (and Merlin, this close, Potter’s eyes were mesmerising, with subtle golden hues in them that only emphasised the green). “I have to say that I was a bit angry at first, because I know the foxglove is poisonous. But then I looked into the meaning of it, and…” He chuckled again, biting his bottom lip.

Draco’s head was spinning. It was like he’d been thrown into an alternate dimension, and he was too shocked by Potter’s behaviour to know what to say.

“I thought that, as much as we fight with each other, you wouldn’t send me poisonous flowers just to be a dick, so I think ultimately, it was the foxglove that made me realise you were sending me a message. Which shouldn’t surprise me, you’ve always been full of layers and mystery, haven’t you? So, why not send me a message about your affection and fear of telling me outright?”

“Sorry?” Draco said again. Why were words failing him now, of all times?

Potter rolled his eyes, but the smile on his face made it look… fond. “Come on, Draco, I know you probably think I’m clueless when it comes to these things, but even if I don’t know the meaning of flowers by heart, I know how to look stuff up.”

Draco didn’t answer, he just stood frozen, gaping like a fish.

“I’ll admit I was surprised about the meadowsweet for courtship and matrimony, because it felt like maybe getting ahead of things, but—” he stepped closer again, his hands coming to cradle Draco’s waist “—the more I thought about it, the more it made sense, and… I wouldn’t want to rule it out.”

Potter was so close now that his breath ghosted over Draco’s face, and Draco’s eyelids fluttered closed.

“Geranium for happiness,” Potter said, kissing the angle of Draco’s jaw, “foxglove and orange lilies for pride,” his lips glided along Draco’s jaw. “I shouldn’t be surprised you chose two flowers to symbolise your pride,” he chuckled, and Draco swallowed thickly, his breath quickening, heart beating wildly in his chest. “And the yellow chrysanthemums for joy and celebration were a nice way to sign the message off.” Potter’s lips had reached Draco’s chin, now.

“They weren’t—” Draco sighed.

“What?” Potter’s mouth was so close to his now that they were practically sharing the same air.

“Nothing,” Draco said, throwing all caution to the wind and tilting his head down to capture Potter’s lips with his.

Maybe this wasn’t the reaction he’d planned, but he was certainly not complaining about the outcome of his scheme. Especially not when Potter grabbed his arse to press himself closer, which led to Draco grabbing Potter’s hair to be able to angle his head just right, which lead to Potter eliciting the most delicious moan Draco had heard in his life, which led to Draco deciding then and there that he needed to send the florist an extra big tip.

💐💐💐

“So, it seems as if the flowers you sent really paid off.”

Normally, Draco would hate to admit to Pansy that she’d been right, but today, the day after having been snogged silly by the Prat who lived, he felt generous.

“Well, I guess one of us had to nudge the other one in the right direction.”

“I think you did more than just nudge Potter yesterday, if that love bite is anything to go by.”

Draco’s hand flew to the part of his neck where Potter had been most persistent in sucking yesterday, but was interrupted by a tapping on the window. When Draco looked up, it was an owl with the same neck bind as the one he’d received yesterday with the drawing of Potter’s bouquet, but this one was larger, and it was clutching a big brown package in its talons. Draco hastened to let it in and set the package down on the kitchen counter. He gave the owl a little bowl of water along with the owl treats—it looked a bit tired—and then proceeded to unwrap what looked like a packet of flowers.

“Oh, more flowers?” Pansy cooed. “A little thank you for your tryst yesterday?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Draco said, searching for a card. “And calling it a tryst makes it sound sordid, we didn’t even do anything under the belt.” Unless rutting counted, he thought, remembering with a thrill how Potter had shivered against him as he came.

Once all the paper was gone, he admired the bouquet Potter had selected for him. It was an odd mix of colours and shapes of flowers, not as aesthetically pleasing as the one he’d sent, but one couldn’t put too much faith in Potter’s choice in beauty.

“Is that a message as well?” Pansy looked at the bouquet with a frown, as if she was personally offended by the messiness of the ensemble.

Draco snorted. “Highly unlikely, since he completely missed my message yesterday.” But out of habit, he started going through the different meanings of the flowers anyway, just to show Pansy how wrong she was. “I mean, look: this one is for “anticipation”, and this, “elope with me. Sure, he told me yesterday that he wouldn’t want to rule out—” He cut himself off, because that particular information was something he hadn’t shared with Pansy yet, because he wasn’t sure he hadn’t been dreaming the whole thing. “And this is for ‘Victory in battle’, which, okay I’ll admit that that could be a message considering how much we fight about things, but—”

He cut himself off again, because the meaning of the red poppies could not be mistaken for anything else. Pleasure. He studied the bouquet again, heat rising in his face as understanding dawned on him. “Fucking hell,” he murmured, feeling Pansy’s eyes on him.

He fumbled for the card, which read “Hope you like them as much as I liked mine yesterday, XX Harry.”

“That fucking—” Draco crumpled the card in his hand and turned on his heel to go to his living room, where his Floo was.

“What?” Pansy said, bewildered. “What does it say?”

“It says I’ve been had,” Draco said, throwing a too big pinch of Floo powder into his hearth and spinning off to Potter’s flat.

When he stepped out, dusting himself off, Potter was leaning against the back of an armchair, arms crossed and a smug smirk on his face.

“Did you like the flowers?”

Draco drew himself up to his fullest height, trying as best he could to stare Potter down.

“You—”

Like yesterday, he was annoyingly at a loss for words, but this time, it was out of anger.

Potter tilted his head, eyes glittering, as if he was an innocent puppy waiting for a treat. “I, what?”

“You know of the Victorian flower language.”

Potter’s smile widened, but still with that sweetness to it. “Of course I do, it’s common knowledge.”

“So, you really sent me a bouquet telling me ‘I anticipate you to elope with me and conquer me in pleasure with much energy’?” Draco said, not sure if he should be offended or impressed.

“I was thinking more like ‘I’m anticipating you and me getting out of here so you can tackle me and enthusiastically fuck me cross-eyed,’ but, yeah, I guess your interpretation work as well.”

Draco choked on his own saliva. “So you— Yesterday— You knew— You understood what—”

“That you wanted to tell me ‘fuck you’? Yeah, I did.”

“But—”

Potter scoffed, pushing off the armchair and prowling closer. “Oh, come on, Draco. No one puts that amount of money and effort into sending an elaborate message like that to someone they loathe. Not even you.”

Draco crossed his arms as Potter stepped into his personal space and tilted his head up towards him. “Well, well, Potter. It seems like you have some Slytherin in you, after all.”

“Mmm. Though I have to say, I don’t think I have nearly enough Slytherin in me,” Potter whispered into his ear. “Care to help me change that?”

Draco nodded mutely as his cock gave a twitch.

“Good,” Potter purred. “And just so you know, you’ll call me Harry from now on.”

Following Harry into his bedroom, Draco swallowed any objection he had. “With pleasure.”

#drarry #hd candy hearts fest #prompt: bouquet #victorian flower language #harry potter draco malfoy #hpdm #harry is a little shit #but tbh so is draco #they deserve each other #i imagine at first the rest of their class will be like FINALLY!#until they get bored of the constant arguments #when they realise it's drarry's form of foreplay #andi’s candy hearts #andithielwrites

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eddiessweetheart86 · 1 year

Text

Waiting for a Girl Like You

Summary: You (AFAB/She/Her pronouns) meet Eddie Munson at a college party and hit it off

Warnings: Unprotected P in V sex (PLEASE BE SAFE!!), language, physical fighting (brief), drugs (weed), smoking (weed and cigarettes) Let me know if I missed anything:)

Just a short story that came to me while I was at work lol

I hope you enjoy! I will be working on a part 2!

You are at a college party during Thanksgiving break 1985. It is quite lackluster, just people drinking and being idiots, but that’s parties for you. Somehow many high school students infiltrated, so you were being stalked by horny teenage boys that you had no interest in considering you’re 20 years old and have standards.

You told Steve that you need to go get some air and wave a cigarette in his face, you give him a smile with your tongue out and made your way through the rowdy crowd of people.

Outside in the backyard there were only about ten people, some sitting and talking on the grass and others making out on picnic blankets or lettermen jackets.

You light your cigarette and walk to the side of the frat house so your view isn’t a live porno movie and see someone lying on their back on the ground. You rush to them, landing roughly on your knees.

You put out the cigarette on the bottom of your boot and let your arms hover over the unconscious boy’s shoulders, debating if you should shake him.

His hair was curly and long, loose bangs on his forehead. His skin was pale, very pale and his mouth was slightly open.

He overdosed, oh shit! Goddamn jiminy fuckface! you thought. You put two fingers to his neck to check for a pulse.

Then he opens his eyes and screams in terror directly in your face, causing you to shriek and fall back onto your butt, catching yourself with your elbows.

“What the fuck!” you yell “I thought you were dead!”

“No!” He says as if he answered a stupid question

“You looked pale! Like— like some dying Victorian child!”

“I’m just white!”

“Jesus Christ! You bag of— bitch!” you say and grab another cigarette from your skirt pocket.

The boy laughs at your distressed demeanor.

“So funny, right! I love scaring innocent women too!” You say sarcastically

“This is just really good shit” He says reaching for a cigarette case next to his torso.

“Looks like it” You say annoyed. You’re still trying to compose yourself, shaking so bad that you can’t light your cigarette.

The boy grabs your lighter and lights it for you, making tense eye contact as he does it. His eyes sparkle in the moonlight and the temporary flash from the lighter makes them look more seductive. You take a puff and exhale out of the side of your mouth, away from his face.

“Shit, where are my manners?” He says extending his hand “I’m Eddie. Munson. If you already know me… no you don’t”

You laugh at his comment and also because he wants to shake hands. Who does that anymore?

You take his hand and shake “Okay Mr. President” you joke “I’m Y/N”

“Oh please, Mister President is my father” he says and waves his hand like a debutante

You both laugh, not breaking eye contact. You bite the inside of your cheek and then finally say “Can I have some?”, motioning to his cigarette case.

You both lie on the grass, he puts his red flannel under your head so your hair does not get grass or leaves in it. You pass the freshly lit joint, talking about topics ranging from music to movies to astrophysics, which he knows a lot about. After only talking to this boy for 10 minutes you were already a goner. He’s so funny and smart and witty and absolutely gorgeous.

You talk about how annoying high school horn-dogs are and how one named Andy has been trying to get in your pants for months.

“Andy such an asshole. All of them are. Especially Jason, he’s not here, thank fuck”

“Jason? I don’t think I’ve ever met him. How do you know him?”

“We… go to school together”

You sit up quickly “What? You said you’re turning 20 next week?”

“Yeah” He says with an embarrassed tone

“So you’re a 20 year old senior? In high school?”

“Well when you say it like that it makes it sound like… the truth” He mumbles sadly

“No, I don’t mean it in a rude way… it’s just that… you’re really smart. Like, you just explained Hawking Radiation to me while high. To be honest, it sounded like you were speaking the same language that the adults in Charlie Brown speak… but it was hot” you blush

Eddie, still lying down on his back, blushes too, not that you can see, but you can tell, you can feel that he is.

“It’s interesting stuff. And I just can’t focus too well in school. Plus, the teachers hate me and treat me like shit, so why go?”

“Eddie… you can’t keep failing. You need to pass this year. You know what, let me tutor you! I was a straight A student”

Eddie chuckles “Sweetheart, I won’t be able to focus if you were my tit— tutor”

You playfully push his shoulder

Eddie sits up, leaning back on his palms “You’re really beautiful” he says dreamily

“So are you” You say looking nervously fiddling with the black fabric of your skirt

“Can I… kiss you?” He asks

“It’s ‘may I’ Mr. Munson” you joke and lean into him.

He puts one hand on the back on your head and the other lightly on your waist. You have one hand on his thigh and the other on his chest. You slowly lean him back and throw your leg around him so you’re straddling him. The whole time you do not break away from each other. He hold your waist and grinds you into his clothed erection, which you can feel through your panties.

You pull away from him and slip your panties off. Then you unbuckle his belt, pull down his pants a little and reveal his huge, curved dick.

You go back up to his face and kiss his neck, making your way up to his lips. As you do this you’re stroking his cock, gently touching it to your entrance.

Since the second you lied down next to him you’ve been soaking wet, this is what you’ve been waiting for.

Eddie slides in, slowly, inch by inch, and there are a lot inches. You both moan into each other’s mouths the deeper he goes.

When he is seated all the way inside you, you sit up and lean back, arching your back and putting your hands on his thighs. You begin to roll your hips on his, letting out a soft moan with each thrust. You’ve never felt so much emotion during sex, you wanted to see him come inside you. You wanted to make him feel good and if you didn’t climax you would honestly not care.

Eddie’s hands are up your shirt, squeezing your tits.

Eddie is so close to finishing but he doesn’t want you to think he’s just another amateur high school boy.

“Fuck… Eddie, I’m close” You moan as you bounce on his cock

Now that you said that there is no going back for Eddie Munson

“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck, Y/N I’m—“

“Yes! Cum in me! Yes!” You squeal

Eddie groans, finishing inside you. You follow with a few deep thrusts, your orgasm erupts from your pelvis then your thighs and throughout your whole body. When you finally finish you stop moving and fall onto his chest, both catching your breath.

“I’m sorry… that was… so quick” he says

“No! It was incredible! Fuck it was incredible!” You say with a big grin

Eddie smiles and gives you a quick kiss on your lips. You roll off of him and onto the grass, he tucks himself back into his underwear and pants as you put your panties back on

“Are you… do you wanna clean up?” He asks

“No” you smirk “I wanna walk around with your cum inside me for the rest of the night” you plant a huge kiss on his lips

“Fuck, sweetheart” he says slapping his hand to his heart

You go back to the party and Steve is making out with some girl so you continue the rest of the night talking to Eddie.

“Hey, he bothering you?” Andy asks you, pointing at Eddie. You can see Chance and the rest of the goons laughing and watching from the kitchen

You rolls your eyes and open your mouth to tell him to leave you alone but Eddie beats you to it

“Fuck off, Andy” Eddie says

“Woah! I wasn’t talking to you freak” he spits

“Andy! Can you leave me the fuck alone! I’m not gonna sleep with you!” You yell

He stares at you, eyes angry, and then turns to Eddie “Hey man, sorry. She may look like a whore but those legs are closed tighter than—“

Before you can even react Andy is on the floor and Eddie grabs your hand and runs off.

You run out the door out, passing Steve on the way out, and run down the street to his van. He opens the drivers door and ushers you in. You crawl into the passenger seat and he starts the car. He’s fast at making a getaway.

Andy and Chance are just standing on the porch, not even running towards the van.

You and Eddie flip your middle fingers up and smile, then he swiftly drives away, both of you laughing like maniacs after a heist.

The next morning you wake up to your phone ringing. Eddie is next to you in your bed.

You reach over Eddie and say a groggily “Hello?”

“Hey did you get home safely?” Steve asks on the other end

“Obviously”

“Okay, fuck my kindness then”

You laugh “I’m fine, Steve. You?”

“I’m good. So… is the long-haired delinquent in the room with us right now?”

“Bye Steve” You say and hang up as he laughs at himself

Eddie groans when you lean back over him to put the phone back

“Hey Eddie” you whisper and shake him awake

“Yeah” Eddie croaks

“You have to go home. My mom would freak if she sees I brought a guy home”

Eddie rushes to put his clothes on and then goes out the window

“When can I see you again?” He asks

“I’ll see. Here” You grab a pen and write your phone number on his hand “This is my dorm room phone. I’ll be there tonight”

“Maybe we can meet up?” Eddie suggests

“We’ll see. They’re kinda strict about non-students being in the buildings” you kiss him on the lips and pull away to look into his deep brown eyes “See you later, Mr. Munson”

“See ya later” He says and runs off to his van

He gets into his van and speeds away. On the way home he can feel his heart in his throat as he thinks of you, and he can’t help but smile. “Waiting for a Girl Like You” by Foreigner comes on the radio, but instead of switching it off, as he usually does, Eddie blasts it and screams along to the few lyrics he knows.

Eddie Munson is hopelessly in love. And the best part is that he’s not scared.

You go into the bathroom and draw yourself a bath, even though you already took a shower last night after coming home, you just want to relax and think about Eddie and your possible future as boyfriend and girlfriend.

The next day Eddie swings open the doors to the drama club room, where they hold their DnD campaigns. He’s smiling like an idiot as Mike, Dustin, Gareth and Jeff stare at him.

“Mike and gentlemen!” He says putting on foot on his throne like a nobleman about to get his portrait drawn “I… did it!”

The room is silent

“Liar!” Gareth yells

“Throw tomatoes at him!” Mike yells

Jeff pulls a whole tomato out of his lunchbox, but Mike, very confused, stops him from throwing it.

“I’m not lying, dickwads. You’re looking at a man now. I have officially lost my virginity and I feel… relaxed”

Jeff tilts his head and squints, practically having a staring contest with Eddie.

“He’s telling the truth” Jeff says assuringly

The whole room erupts in cheers and Gareth puts his arm around Eddie and shakes him around

“Who is she?” Dustin asks

“You wouldn’t know her. She’s in college” He says with a smug tone, he leans forward and whispers “And she’s… filthy”

The boys laugh

Eddie leans over the Gareth and whispers to him about you walking around with his cum in your panties, causing Gareth’s eyes to nearly bulge out of his head and his jaw to go slack.

“What?” Jeff yells. Eddie turns to Jeff and whispers the same thing, getting the same reaction.

“Hey tell us!” Dustin says motioning between him and Mike

“No way! It’s too dirty for your child brains”

“We’re 14” Mike says

“Exactly” Eddie retorts

“Oh come on! I wanna know!” Dustin says

“No, it’s so bad!” Jeff says laughing and poking Gareth

“Yeah, if I had a wife and she did that…” Gareth says letting out a quick exhale to emphasize his over-exaggerated shock “She can put a leash on me too if she wants”

Jeff, Eddie and Gareth burst into laughter

“Tell us!” Mike begs

“Okay, okay! Let’s just say I finished the race but she kept the prize… in her panties… all night”

“Oh my god!” Dustin and Mike both say in unison and in disgust

Dustin rubs his eyes, as if it’ll reset his brain.

“Dude! That’s disgusting!” Mike says

“Disgusting? Or amazing?” Jeff asks

“Disgusting!” Dustin yells “He said disgusting!”

Meanwhile, you’re sitting on the couch, suitcase in hand, rolling it back and forth mindlessly because your mom is demanding that you wait for your brother to get home so you could say your goodbyes.

The front door opens quickly and in walks your kid brother.

“Dusty! Your sister is about to leave, give her a hug!” Your mom says

“Mom she lives like 10 minutes away” Dustin groans

“10 minutes too far!” She says hugging you tightly and squeezing your cheeks like your a baby

She pulls away and you pull your suitcase with you towards Dustin

“Bye, stupid” you say

“Y/N!” your mom says as she makes her way to grab the camera

“Sorry. Bye Dustin” you pat his shoulder and walk past him

“Bye, Y/N. Make good choices.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask softly

“I heard a boy in your room last night, Mary Magdalene” Dustin responds slyly

“No you didn’t” you say through gritted teeth

“Smile!” Your mom says running back in

You and Dustin put on half-ass smiles and your mom snaps the photo

“Mom, the cat!” You say pointing to Tews who is lying adorably on his back. She squeals when she sees him. You flip Dustin off and he does the same while your mom is turned around taking a picture of the cat

“Mom! Dustin flipped me off!” You yell, quickly putting your finger down

“Dustin!” She whips back around

“Bye mom!” You yell and walk out the door

“Bye sweetie!” She waves “Dustin don’t ever—“

The last thing you hear before closing the door is Dustin fighting for his life.

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #steve harrington

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a-christmas-carol-from-hr · 5 months

Text

a spring-time in the haggard winter of his life

Marley’s wife was dead to begin with.

This must be entirely understood or nothing that follows can be considered miraculous.

Marley’s wife was dead, as dead as a doornail. What was dead about a doornail, I cannot say. Nor could Marley’s wife, on the account of her death. Were she not dead, however, she would not have hesitated to comment on the impracticality of the metaphor. Marley’s wife had been, after all, a very practical woman. That was how the kind would describe her. The unkind would have called her a cold hearted bitch. It would be unkind, but not untruthful. But for the sake of Marley, we shall use ‘a very practical woman’.

Aye, for the sake of Marley, and the sake of their child, we shall be polite on the nature of his wife. For they did have a child. A girl. She was the account of her mother’s life. Where she began, her mother ended. It had been a tragedy of life, all too common, even in the house of the rich. A life for a life. One soul for another.

A good bargain, in all accounts. Let us never say Marley’s wife was not thrifty.

Marley knew she was dead. How could he not? He had been left with the very real, very small, and very young evidence of her death. And the absence of such a wife could not have gone unnoticed in the household, even by a man such as Marley. They had been married for I can’t say how many years. Marley was her sole executor, her sole administrator, her sole assign, her sole residuary legatee, her sole mourner, and the life bound to her by the Church and Government of England. Not that that mattered all too much to them. Neither attended the Church and the Government had united them as a practical affair.

He was the sole mourner at her funeral. I wish I could say he was not so dreadfully cut up by the sad event.

The mention of Marley’s wife’s funeral is only to bring me back to the point I began with. Marley’s wife was dead. She had left behind ledgers and cash boxes, safes and purses, notes and coins, and a widower and a babe. Her presence remained, in the sign above the door to their counting house, in the face of an unfortunate baby girl, and in the pitch black of her husband’s clothes.

Oh, but he was an iceberg, Marley! A frozen, frosted, empty, flinty, rime-crusted, corroded old sinner. His heart was dyed black as an iced road, and twice as unhealthy. He was not as old as people thought him, but grief had aged him more in one year than 38-years had in sum. It paled his skin, chilled his hands, froze his voice, and frosted any mercy that might be found in his eyes.

Nobody stopped to speak to him. Nobody stopped to ask after him. Nobody looked in on him. Nobody gave condolences. Nobody gave a thought to him, except to avoid him. But what did Marley care?

The only living being he gave any form of care to was his daughter. The two would be seen walking at all hours; she asleep in his arms and he focused on the ground. She was his perennial companion. The girl slept in an orange crate by his desk while he worked, sleeping through the plethora of evictions and debt collections her father sent out day by day. He only stopped to take care of her, and only then did he show any spark of warmth or care. But woe to those who tried to use that to their advantage.

Once upon a time- on the darkest of days, on Christmas Eve, on his daughter’s first birthday- the girl lay sleeping in her bed and the father sat busy in the counting house. She knew nothing of the date. It was all “nuts” to her, who cared more about a warm blanket and her afternoon meal. But Marley knew.

How could he not.

AN: an au of an au, set in the victorian/canon setting, where ellen was the ghost and marley was the hauntee (because an ellen scrooge married to jacob marley was ellen marley).

#a christmas carol #jacob marley #scrooge x marley #acc #the christmas carol retelling thing

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hausofmamadas · 7 months

Text

TO THE SMASH N GRAB CREW | RIP to the homies and this Cece x Kenny meet cute

⁂

Pairing: Cecelia “Cece” Garza x Kenny and The Smash-And-Grab Crew gif dump

For @narcosfandomdiscord NarcOctober - Day 16

Prompt: Day of Surprises - create a fanwork that focuses on dreams, literal or metaphorical

Okay so, you guys, I have no idea if this even works for the prompt dreams, bc it’s not really a dream one of the characters is having but rather, a dream of mine, and specifically a dream of whatever this was or could’ve been???? That we were categorically deprived of thanks to the Narcos’ writers’ tendency to just drop narrative grenades lil hints of things and then never pick them back up again.

So idk if yall remember that one time Operation Leyenda actually didn’t entirely fuck some shit up but there was One Time n I’m lowkey convinced it was thanks to the involvement of some estrogen no one will convince me that GOAT Secretary Susie wasn’t the strength of Jaime and Kiki’s operation, mmkay in the form of this baddie, named Cece aka Danilo’s way-too-foxy cousin.

What exactly did this bonafide mothafucking G short for goddess do that made the mission so successful? Idk, maybe just being the sassiest, most could-not-be-fucking-bothered, beyond not-having-any-of-your-shit to political scumbag and all around general skidmark, Ruben Zuno Árce okay we don’t even have time to get into how legitimately want to light this man on fire whilst painting💅🏽her💅🏽fucking💅🏽nails💅🏽 I MEANSJSHWH it truly doesn’t get better than this

I HAVE NEVER BEEN MORE SATISFIED WATCHING TBIS FUCKINFSKWJHW W SHOW except that one time Barrón broke my brain by spending the whole time being some random and then very sudddnly stealing the whole gotdamn show out of nowhere in ten mins but shhhhhhsjshshs we’re not talking about that right now like they fucking did it. They got this bitch on US soil, homie was shitting in his skivvies right there on the runway also ngl I’m convinced that Walt dressing respectably in that torturously sexy red shirt was another crucial key to the success of this plan but it was mostly Cece

Okay okay okay so then after the plan goes down like gang busters, they all meet up for lunch and we get this random little exchange between enemies-to-lovers Danilo and Kenny before Kenny cried weeweewee all the way back home to the US bc he could not handle big swinging dick Calderoni and like tbh, fair where Danilo makes a point to introduce Kenny to his cousin, The Real MVP Cece, who, like the rest of the women on this show is infuriatingly hot and stunning bc they cannot for just one moment pipe down with that shit

Almost as though he’s like been, on the low, talking to Cece about Kenny and promised to introduce them as like!???????? A blind date or somethinggghdhe like some kind of setup!??????

And it’s not like Danilo does this and Kenny’s like uhhhhhh, ‘scuse me, tf? Kenny’s literally justlikesjejsjwjsusuebehsh like, okay check this shit, look at Kenny’s fucjinfjdjsd face in that gif, like if he were wearing a suit or a tux, mans would be straightening his little bow tie, all checking himself in the mirror, picking at his teeth, breathing into the palm of his hand, asking bestie Daryl, heygorl, be honest, does this silk cravat make my neck look fat? To which Daryl is like, sorry, what the actual fuck is a silk cravat? Also idk when this became Victorian England where ppl wear silk cravats and it kinda seems like it’s setting that shit up to go somewhere except all we get is what?

A BIG. FAT. NOTHING. BURGERRRRRJDJDJHE

We literally NEVER FUCKING SEE Cece again and Kenny cries weeweewee all the way home in like the next episode, and the rest of the team gets mowed down on another airport tarmac, except sweet bby angels Sal

And Daryl and Walt but as much as I love him, he’s far too much of a glutton for punishment to be considered a sweet bby angel

I mean if blue balls existed, this show would be The Fucking King Kahuna of Blue Ballers. Why??????? I MEAN LOOK AT TBJS WOMANNNNNNNNNN OKAY????????

And as if we weren’t suffering from our blue balls enough already, the show literally pushes us to the ground and pummels us in the metaphorical dick with titanium baseball bats yes more than one by giving us this👇🏽👇🏽👇🏽👇🏽one and only moment of joy, this👇🏽👇🏽👇🏽 👇🏽 one single, solitary victory

…….

…………….

………………………..

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand then they went ahead and straight-up just Game-of-Thrones-Red-Wedding massacred like seventy five percent of the motherfucking cast by like episode 9

Coolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoool. Fine.

═

For the giiiiiiiifs: @narcosfandomdiscord @ashlingnarcos @drabbles-mc @narcolini @artemiseamoon

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beardedmrbean · 12 days

Note

Oh take care of your father, I understand the delays

But I wanted to thank you for liking my magical black American wizards ideas I do as I want to show that not all black people have victim complex

Because that magical negeroes

“Oh yes black writers, who are willingly to live in one of the most expensive and godforsaken cities in America and work in one of the most corrupted industries on the planet. Please tell me how the average black person must act like a slave to mainly upper middle class white people given the trailer.”

Perhaps it explains in the trailer, but how the fuck we got magic but still subverted? Did we meddling with druids and witches or something?

Not to mention a lot of white people were confused who this movie was meant for as they mention they would be down for a black Harry Potter

Funny enough my magical America idea came from a Disney channel sitcom and cartoon that was to cash in on the HP phenomen

Ain’t that bitch

Also for native Americans wizards, I will do jokes that the native tribes will probably like

A American wizard: Oh shit this native monster is going to kill us! What should we do?!

Native wizard: I’m from ANOTHER tribe, we need to go to the one that dealt with this guy

AW: Oh…i thought you would know…

NW:…I’m from a Iroquois tribe, this freak from Washington

AW: Wait there other Iroquois tribes?

NW: IT WAS A FUCKING CONFEDERACY AAAAAAAH-

Oh another one about outfits

AW: Oh okay, we got this ritual ready-Wait why are you wearing Victorian era clothing

NW: Because my ancestors wore these?

Aw: Oh….i thought you would wear all that precolonial garb..

NW: You mean, what that term we begrudgingly agree upon using for outsiders? Oh yes the full shaman gear? Well 1. We had to keep our most powerful magic away from our enemies prior to the Europeans. And 2. You need special permission from the tribe elders to get such items. Which I’m not in the mood to argue with

Aw: Does everyone have family issues?

My joke is that I will point out the different native tribes. Like a visual gag of a Cherokee and a Californian native being shoved into the same group much to their frustrations

Also as you mentioned Shaft and Black Dynamite. I was going to make character that homage to them and create a new wizardry group that came from the influx of Chinese and Japanese immigration. Basically a lot of Asian dispora created magical gun martial arts, though like if they fight someone from the ancestral home. You can see the difference between their tactics

By the pope, could there be someone with both cowboy and samurai ancestry I could make? Is that possible? How I don’t make it goofy as possible?

You could do a lot of cool shit if look past America beyond the surface levels

Gonna be Friday now it looks like, better these things go wrong in the hospital though, gotta make sure to have a nice flavorful meal for him when we can finally get him home.

Heart surgery is bad, but 2 weeks of hospital food it torture.

But I wanted to thank you for liking my magical black American wizards ideas I do as I want to show that not all black people have victim complex

You're excited about it and I can tell that makes it double worth reading

Perhaps it explains in the trailer, but how the fuck we got magic but still subverted? Did we meddling with druids and witches or something? Not to mention a lot of white people were confused who this movie was meant for as they mention they would be down for a black Harry Potter

Good question for #1 and for #2 there's also a lot of us that don't feel like being talked down too and told they're racist

Funny enough my magical America idea came from a Disney channel sitcom and cartoon that was to cash in on the HP phenomen Ain’t that bitch

Nothing wrong with being inspired by Disney, Walt was all about that.

Also as you picked up, I would focus on the cultural divergence. Like the American druids in general created their own culture and they and the Irish ones see each other as “cousins” than say brothers Also for native Americans wizards, I will do jokes that the native tribes will probably like Joke goes here

Quality

AW: Oh okay, we got this ritual ready-Wait why are you wearing Victorian era clothing NW: Because my ancestors wore these? Aw: Oh….i thought you would wear all that precolonial garb.. NW: You mean, what that term we begrudgingly agree upon using for outsiders? Oh yes the full shaman gear? Well 1. We had to keep our most powerful magic away from our enemies prior to the Europeans. And 2. You need special permission from the tribe elders to get such items. Which I’m not in the mood to argue with Aw: Does everyone have family issues?

true how come they're in their traditional garb and we aren't? german heritage American Wizard needs magical leiderhosen.

That'll be a group from Oakland/San Francisco then, get the most crossover between the groups there.

By the pope, could there be someone with both cowboy and samurai ancestry I could make? Is that possible? How I don’t make it goofy as possible?

You could do a lot of cool shit if look past America beyond the surface levels

Damn right you could.

#zoomer huey anon

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mermaidsirennikita · 9 months

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What are your favorite Grace Callaway books?

She has a good-sized backlist, and I've just started my third series by her.

Grace Callaway is for when you wanna read like, a Tessa Dare-esque sense of humor mixed with MacLeanian girl gang/"oh there she goes, cartwheeling into mortal peril while the big man who's in love with her shrieks in panic" vibes, topped off with lots of sex scenes that are generally more creative than those you'll find in trad HR, often with a dusting of light kink. Age gaps are common, but not guaranteed. A lot of her heroines are virgins, but not all. You'll frequently find a hero who's like "God this bitch gives me a migraine but I love her so much" and a heroine who's all "what? like it's hard?" when her hero cautions her against deep throating him on the first try.

I....love these qualities. I did break my usual protocol re: reading out of order, because I began her most recent series first. And that's fine, but her books are generational. So everyone's kids grow up and fuck each other, as God intended.

Generally, though, I'd recommend

The whole Lady Charlotte's Society of Scoundrels series, which is a Victorian Charlie's Angels setup. Such a solid series thus far. The main entries are:

Olivia and the Masked Duke--Heroine sees the hero, who she's known since he saved her life when she was like 12, fucking another woman in a D/s scenario and realizes that she Must Have Him. A good Stern Daddy/Bratty sub book, with the added bonus of the hero being like... 10-12 years older than the heroine and feeling Super Guilty about corrupting her. He's friends with her daaaaad which I ... love.

Pippa and the Prince of Secrets--Widowed heroine reconnects with the guy who gave her her first kiss when they were teens. He's now the scarred leader of a band of child spies (more common than you'd think in historical romance) and he wears a mask and has an exhibitionism kink. It is HOT it is ANGSTY, it's probably my favorite Grace because the moment when he lets her see his whole face is... so much. As is the scene where he gives her multiples in front of like dozens of people in an orgy.

Fiona and the Enigmatic Earl--Intrepid spitfire crosses paths with an ESPIONAGE EARL (TM) on one of her "missions" and they try to do a fakeout makeout to stay undercover but it turns into him getting her off against a wall and after that he's like "uh well I guess I should propose" and they try to have a cool respectable marriage but their passion is 2 Much. At one point one point they fuck in a room knowing that someone is watching through a peephole. This happens more than you'd think in Grace Callaway's England.

Glory and the Master of Shadows--Duke's daughter becomes the mentee of a Chinese underworld master (not sexy master; he's been celibate for YEEEEARS) and he's like "wow would be much easier to mentor her if I didn't fantasize about putting my dick in her mouth on the reg". He does eat her out in a hallway with her parents sleeping like, feet away.

Then, outside of that series, I love:

The Duke Who Knew Too Much--Okay this one is fucking balls out hilarious because the heroine is like an INTREPID DETECTIVE (a lot of Grace heroines are INTREPID DETECTIVES who like, lick their finger and test the air and go "he went north" while the hero is all, "I mean we received a ransom note telling us he went north but okay" to sum up the vibe) and she comes upon the hero, a scary lord man, doing a bit o' light CNC with his mistress, and she's like "EGADS" and then when the mistress dies he has to take her to a sex club and be like "look I'm not a murderer I just like to tie bitches up and fuck them" and she's like "... tell me more. for the case."

M is for Marquess--I like this one a lot, because it has one of my historical romance novel tropes, which is "girl has mild asthma so the hero is afraid of fucking her to death". This hero is SO. SO AFRAID. OF KILLING HER WITH HIS PENIS. He also is like "my dead wife called me a depraved fiend, no one shall accept me", because he likes domming a bit. A lot of Grace heroes have dead wives, who were not fun. This book also has one of the least annoying romance novel children, mostly because he has anxiety, and the heroine kinda calls the hero a bad father...? I died.

Her Prodigal Passion--I like this one because the hero is a total wastrel and then as he's shaping up the heroine, who has been obsessed with him for years but gave up on it after he gave her an orgasm while he was high (that's True Rake Game) and then forgot about it, ends up entangled with him. There's a scene where phrenology, the practice of feeling skulls for lumps to sum up your personality, is used in a Sexy Way.

#romance novel blogging #book recs

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depressedstressedlemonzest · 1 year

Text

Ten Tag Thursday

Rules:Post 10 facts about yourself and pass it along to a few favorites!

I am pretty close with my brother, he's three years younger than me and he lives 5 minutes away. We'll talk about anything and everything with one another. I thought most siblings were like this but my husband's aren't. The defining moment of difference when I was getting wheeled away for surgery and my brother licked my face. My husband was like WTF, and I was like we've always done that. Our reason being our mom saying "if you really love someone you'll lick them anywhere" demonstrating by licking my stepdad's armpit at the time. Granted we're adults now, but every once in awhile we'll face lick.

2. I have a bump on my forehead from when I was younger and fell off a wobbly kitchen chair and hit the VHS cabinet corner and got a nice slice. I was like... 8 and trying to get my paints from the back room when my mom was napping.

3. I have a weird memory, I can't remember most of childhood before like 10, but I can still remember lines from movies and tv shows I haven't seen in years.

4. I want to have kids, like so badly. But I'm terrified that I have something wrong with me to where I can't. If I can't I wouldn't mind adopting, hell I would want to adopt anyway, not as a last resort, I just want some kids. But husband and I have those types of appointments this month to make sure we aren't damaged.

5. I'm one of two granddaughters on my dad's side, the other one is almost 20 years older than me so basically I'm the only one in the last batch of babies.

6. I'm scared of birds and mice. Birds if there are more than two together can swarm and attack, they can poop on you, they can flap in your face. And the mice fear I blame on my mother.

picture it 1997, six year old Lem, with a sprained ankle, hobbling down the hall to the bathroom, mom helping me walk because I was hurting. She opens the bathroom door and turns on the light only to see a mouse. She shoves my ass in the bathroom, shuts off the lights, slams the door and runs screaming for my dad.

7. I've written three books, wrote them in like middle school and they are HORRIBLY cringe now, especially when I remember asking my english teacher to proof read them AND SHE DID. One was an old victorian romance with the main male lead living in a treehouse, one about a werewolf romance, and one with a vampire romance.

8. I'm afraid that I'm not a good person, that I'm only pretending to be one.

9. I've always been a fucking smartass, and have always had incidents of malicious compliance. My mom shares a story about when I was in softball at age.... 10? 11? When I was pitching and the coach kept getting on my ass about "Presenting the ball" and I just straight up Vanna Whited the ball to the players and the stands, hand flourishing and all.

When I worked at a Walgreens one night the manager wanted me to put together a display of russell stover chocolates for easter, and as I was working a coworker was the only cashier and he was busy so I went to help a lot. Then at the end of the shift I had to stay late because I wasn't done with the display and it pissed my manager off. The next day the managers were wanting us to write down what we do during our shift and the time frames we do it on index cards to help with our time management.

I used up about 5 index cards for my 8 hour shift.

5:00 clock in 5:01 walk to locker and put things away 5:02 walk to photo booth

alll up until my shift was over. Every minute accounted for and the managers never bitched at me for time management again.

10. I don't know how to ride a bike. I know the logistics, but once the training wheels came off for me that was it.

@witchboywitchboywitchboy @xninetiestrendx @vintagelacerosette @trans-alpha-male @suzy-queued @ian-galagher

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