me: ok I’m gonna write an original story based on that one author!jack zimbits fic with the cute yellow house and the corgi and the happiness
me an hour later, deep into outlining: ok so it’s a murder mystery and one of them’s a medium and the other is a PI and a bunch of people are gonna die mysteriously, but there’s still gonna be a cute yellow house and a corgi
brendon is nothing but pure and good… he just has such a beautiful heart with the most heartwarming smile. i really hope he knows that. he’s saved peoples lives and gotten them through the toughest times. nothing will ever beat that.
the one who, the minute they’re inebriated, just fucking Takes Off
(i….i have been that person…….on many occasions…..)
i’ve also CHASED that person on many occasions. because, as a good friend, you never actually want your runner to make it very far in their condition.
sober bitty is friendly, chatty, pretty mature
drunk bitty is a Fiend and a speed demon
literally every resident of the haus has had to sprint after bitty across campus at some point
unFORTUNATELY BITTY IS THE FASTEST MEMBER OF THE SMH TEAM, ON AND OFF THE ICE
ransom twisted his ankle once, chasing bits. holster straight up ate it on the sidewalk outside of the delta gamma house
(it was during Rush and all the pledges were watching and he’s still bitter about it)
shitty bought heelies JUST for the purpose of Bitty Chasing, but they actually slowed him down, as he is not ten years old and the samwell sidewalks are cracked and icy
chowder’s actually pretty good at Bitty Wrangling, so he’s often exempt from Nursey Patrol because they need him On-Call to stop bitty from running a) to stop n shop b) to the woods on the edge of campus or c) to the nearest Rager he can hear down the street because in all likelihood it’s a lax party and ffffffffuck the lax bros, man
eventually, though, lardo points out, very casually, that bitty never seems to run when jack’s around
so jack suddenly finds himself heckled into attending far more parties and he’s not really sure why. but bittle’s always there, and always smiling at him and laughing at his jokes, so he’s not too upset about it.
and lardo’s plan works – bitty stops taking off the second no one’s looking.
mostly because jack is ALWAYS LOOKING
but also because jack gives him every reason to stay.
(the first party of bitty’s junior year – kid runs all the way to an off-campus party and dex and nursey go on an epic adventure to find him. but that’s a different story.)
“Nah, that’s almonds, brah,” Shitty said easily. “But if you’re worried…”
Holster was already across the street. Ransom sighed and looked at Shitty. “If they run out of chicken tenders before we get there, you’re buying me McDonald’s.”
“Sure, sure,” Shitty said, and they crossed the street to follow Holster in his mission. When they caught up to him, he was staring in a first-floor window of the house, mouth agape. Shitty and Ransom squeezed in next to him, eyes growing wide as they looked inside.
The kitchen of the LAX frat – once even more disgusting than their own – was spotless. Beyonce played softly from someone’s iPhone and the smell of cooking peaches and sugar and butter wafted from the open window.
In the middle of it all was a dude – a LAX bro, probably – washing bowls and pans and a cutting board, singing along to the music. He had a sweet face and wore a faded MCHS FOOTBALL t-shirt that stretched too tight over his shoulders and arms.
“He doesn’t seem evil,” Ransom said, realizing too late he’d spoken aloud. The guy turned, startled, and dropped several, soapy measuring cups to the ground.
“Oh!” He said. “Um. Hi?”
“Shits, you’re pre-law,” Holster said, tapping his chin. “Is kidnapping someone illegal if you’re saving them from the lacrosse team?”
“IDK, man,” Shitty said seriously. “That’s kind of a gray area.”
The guy frowned and stooped to pick up the measuring cups. “Can you wait until this pie’s cooked before any…kidnapping happens? I cannot abide a burnt pie.”
“Can we have pie?” Ransom asked, eyes hopeful. The guy smiled.
“Well, of course! Unless you’re on the hockey team,” he joked. “I’m not supposed to talk to hockey players.”
“Uhh…” Ransom and Holster exchanged a look.
“Do we look like hockey players?” Shitty asked with a snort. “We’re clearly…um…in a frat?”
“Yeah,” Ransom chimed in. “Delta…Epsilon…Faber.”
“DEF, yeah, that’s us,” Holster agreed. “You should, uh, consider us during Rush next week.”
“Oh, cool,” the guy said, grinning. “I’m Eric, by the way. Or Bittle, that’s what my teammates call me.”
“Nice, we’re uh…Adam, Justin, and…B,” Ransom said carefully. “The brothers of Delta Epsilon Faber. At your service.”
Eric grinned at them, sunny and sweet, and waved a hand. “Well, come on in. There’ll be enough pie for everyone, and y’all can tell me all about DEF while we wait for it to finish.”
The hockey boys exchanged a look, then quickly scrambled to the front door. Some men were led to poor decisions by thinking with their “downstairs brains;” they, however, made all of their mistakes while thinking with their stomachs.
i have a terrible basic humor i know but i’m forever laughing at the fact Anna’s coat in OFA has bells patterns on it and that a line in her song duet with Elsa is ‘I don’t need the bells to ring’ and that all of it is going to be embodied by Kristen Bell
Bitty was standing above him, grin easy and voice barely loud enough to carry over the sounds of the party inside. Dex stared at him; Bitty glowed in the porch light, soft and gold and honey-rich.
“You feeling okay?” He asked, the tenor of his voice sweet as the peach schnapps on Dex’s tongue. Dex wondered, suddenly, if Bitty would taste like peaches, too.
“Yeah,” he heard himself say. “Just…distracted.”
The corner of Bitty’s mouth quirked upward, forming one of the dimples Dex had found his gaze drawn to lately. “Too much to drink?” Bitty guessed, sitting down on the porch step next to him. “Thought you frogs had learned to hold your liquor at this point.”
And Dex thought he finally understood those moments in romance movies, where time slowed and everything grew soft and hazy. He hadn’t felt this way in seventh grade when Natalie Jones asked him to the Sadie Hawkins dance, nor had the world seemed beautiful and unreal when Caroline Fisher kissed him in the back row of the movie theater when he was sixteen. But Bitty…
Dex laughed and ran a hand through his hair. “Guess there’s still plenty I have to learn.” He cast a look sideways at Bitty, nerves bolstered by the alcohol thrumming in his veins. “Maybe…you can teach me.”
Even in the dim light, Dex could see Bitty’s blush. It was the splotchy kind that spread up the apples of his cheeks and up his temples, along his hairline. Dex wanted to reach out and touch it, and so he did, tracing his fingers up Bitty’s jawline to follow the feverish trail. Bitty closed his eyes as Dex’s thumb brushed the corner of his lips, then opened them again when Dex pulled his hand back suddenly.
“Sorry,” Dex murmured, suddenly self-conscious. “I haven’t…I didn’t…not until Samwell…”
Bitty nodded, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed roughly. Dex let loose a deep sigh; he didn’t have to explain himself to Bitty. Bitty understood.
“I could use another drink,” Bitty said, rising slowly. Dex thought this might be his way of leaving, until Bitty held out his hand. “Any schnapps left?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Dex said, taking Bitty’s hand to rising to his feet. “I drank the last of it.”
“That’s a shame,” Bitty said, leaning in close, hand ghosting across Dex’s belly and settling against his ribs, palm splayed. “I wanted to taste some.”
Cupping Bitty’s neck with his hands, Dex leaned down to press their mouths together. Bitty licked into his own teasingly, sucking and moving with a characteristic enthusiasm. They pressed together, chest-to-chest, and Dex marveled at the broadness of the shoulders set so far below his, the thickness of Bitty’s arms around his waist. It was overwhelmingly attractive, and finally–finally–something Dex allowed himself to have.
“Mmm,” Bitty said, pulling back, lips swollen and red around the edges where the skin rubbed against Dex’s stubble. “Sweet, but not too sweet.”
“Little like you,” Dex chirped. “S’why I like it.”
Bitty grinned at him, eyes alight despite the darkness of the evening. He held onto the front of Dex’s shirt, as if afraid Dex might run or vanish into thin air. Dex threaded his fingers through Bitty’s hair and pulled him close again; it was a promise, or something like one. “Funny,” he said, licking his lips. “I was thinking the same thing.”
If you don’t think dean would be the dad that not so secretly frets over every little thing and accidentally yells and loses his temper when he gets terrified for his kids’ safety and that cas would be the dad that mocks dean and teases him for nagging but can also silence and scold with a siNGLE LOOK then you can get outta my face because you are straight up lying
Rated: M (swear words, life stuff, gonna be smut at some point… let’s be real) - Also this might be a light concept but there are some parts in this that are kind of dark (lots of talk of divorce and some of neglect)
KRISTANNA MODERN AU
Authors Note: So, I have watched Dancing with the Stars off and on for many years (I both love and absolutely hate that show), and the thought struck me last week to make a bit of a fic out of it, and I kind of got obsessed with it and I’m now 7 chapters deep into this dumpster fire (no joke!), but I’ve been way too insecure to post it, but now I know there is a Kristoff/Anna dance tonight I just have to post the first one and please accept this for what this is! Ahhhh!
“Please Daddy! Pleeeeaaaaassseeeee.”
Kristoff looked down into his daugters honey-brown eyes, wishing that he had never said anything to her. The fact was, they had been asking him to do the show for three seasons, and he always politely declined, knowing that he was a terrible dancer. Well that, and the fact that he hated being in the spotlight, and going on the show would literally thrust him into one.
Rarepair: Lardo/George. I mean, they're both badass women in charge of corralling a large group of hockey-playing man-children. I think they'd get along.
Georgia Martin did not get flustered.
George was an Olympic medalist. She managed aggressive, sometimes immature athletes for a living. She had overcome a thousand shades of bigotry in her life with poise and cutting wit. There was very little that scared George, or even made her uncomfortable.
Then Jack and Bitty hosted a party, and she met Lardo.
For one, a woman who willingly went by the name Lardo? That took either serious guts or a total disregard for anyone else’s opinion. George was immediately fascinated by this tiny, silent woman with the undercut and torn denim dress.
Oh, George, have you met Lard- Larissa?” Jack asked, hand on her back as he led her into the kitchen. Bitty was whirling around, mixing pots and plating chips, ever the dutiful host. Lardo was perched on the counter, occasionally stopping him to feed him sips of wine.
“‘Sup,” Lardo said to George, nodding in greeting. “Boys call me Lardo. Team manager for Samwell.”
“Nice to meet you,” George said, stopping Bitty to hand him the wine she’d brought. Bitty gasped and hugged her in thanks, then was off again to shout directions at someone named Chowder. “Boys call me George. Assistant GM.”
“So, you save their asses on a daily basis?” Lardo asked, sipping at her own beer. “Samesies.”
“Lardo’s the most efficient team manager Samwell’s ever had,” Jack told George, stopping Bitty and tucking an arm around him to hold him still for a quick moment. Bitty leaned against Jack, looking weary and nervous. George wanted to smooth back his bangs and sit him down with a glass of wine and blanket. “She totally re-did our scheduling system, had room assignments down to an art form. Could give you a run for your money, George.”
And then Lardo winked at her, and George was rendered absolutely speechless.
Good lord, she was fucked.
And if she was really lucky, Bitty and Jack would keep hosting parties.
*avoids writing week five by writing gross amounts of domestic!destiel fluff*
Dean was awoken by muffled giggling and tiny, weak blows being aimed at his torso. He groaned and rolled over, smiling against his pillow at Cas’ quiet “Shhh, let Daddy sleep a little longer,” Of course, he wouldn’t be going back to sleep now that he was up, but he didn’t give any indication of that. He listened to the hushed conversation taking place behind him and didn’t even try to stop the sleepy grin that passed his face. He could definitely get used to an eternity of mornings just like this.
This thoughts were interrupted by a quiet voice and the weight of a small body draping itself over his side. “Daaaaaaddy,” it sing-songed as Cas chuckled “it’s time to wake uuuuuuup.” Tiny fingers prodded at the exposed skin at his waistline. In one quick movement, Dean wrapped his arms around his daughter and flipped them over, attacking her with tickles and kisses all over. Their laughter mixed together in the early morning air and Dean stilled his hands, breathing a bit heavily. He pressed a kiss to Allie’s nose.
“Good morning, darling,” He looked at Cas and leaned forward, pressing their lips together for a brief kiss, “Other darling.” Cas rolled his eyes, but smiled despite himself.
“We’re going to be late,” he stated, pushing the covers off his own body. Dean looked at his watch.
“It’s only eight thirty. We have more than enough time.” He looked down to Allyson, wiggling beneath him. “Are you excited for today, kiddo?”