my room is so pretty now

shibolet3  asked:

Wait what con artist from 2014

I’d like to title this story “Swing And A Miss

Okay, so my high school had this program where seniors could leave school like a month and a half early and opt out of exams if they took on internships around the neighborhood, but not everyone wanted to/was eligible to do it. Back in like 2013, they had like 15 bored seniors stuck in the school, so the administration brought in this Professional Life Coach, left him in alone in a room with them for two hours to talk to them about like, self-esteem or some shit. All the kids were pulled out of their classes for this*, and later told the administration that they loved him, they really enjoyed the talk.

So, about a year later, we have a new principal. He’s supposed to set up an assembly for all the 11th and 12th graders, but he doesn’t know what to do. One of his coworkers mentions that there was a life coach that was a huge hit with the kids that didn’t do community study last year, so maybe he’d also be great for a larger audience. The principal basically thinks “okay, what the hell” and calls up and hires Jason C. Jean to come talk to the kids.

Now, it’s like, 10:30, maybe 11:00 in the morning, and two entire grades are getting shepherded to the main gymnasium, and no one wants to God damn be there. We ain’t got time for self esteem talks. We want to sleep. And this guy, watching us all drag our feet in and collapse into the bleachers was just like…offensively peppy. There’s a couple faculty members sitting behind him, the woman who suggested he be hired for this, the vice principals for the grades- but the principal himself kept getting calls so he was in and out the whole time.

Now, Mr. Jean was like…the chill “Just call me by my first name dude” history professor at college times 30. He was trying so fucking hard. I’m referring to him as ‘Mr. Jean’ in this story just to be disrespectful. So anyway, we all get in there, and he tells us right off the bat “You guys are totally allowed to be on your phones and laptops during this! I get it! It’s no problem, like really, I insist!” so while the faculty members are exchanging smiles that read ‘how do we kill that while respecting him’, all the kids are immediately pulling out their electronics and he’s starts his speech.

Now, again, I really wanna reiterate that he told us we could be on our phones- because when the news articles started coming out about this, I remember all these angry, annoying comments from old people like “Why the hell were the students on their phones in the first place! So disrespectful! These damn millennials and their social media!” like, they were completely ignoring the entire story and just focusing in on kids using the internet, and it Really Super Pissed Me Off, so. Again, we had permission for this (which also ended up being Mr. Jean’s fatal mistake).

So, he starts off this speech fairly normally, like ‘hi, I’m Jason, I’m a professional life coach and I wanna teach you kids about how to be The Best You!’ and like people were tuning him out and listening to varying degrees. Some kids (like myself) were kinda dozing off, and everyone was on twitter or facebook.

His approach to a self esteem speech seemed to be ‘let me tell you my entire life story for hours’ and like, at first I was like “I’m not really hearing this, I’m half dreaming right now” but the more I started making myself pay attention the more…bizarre and rambling his story got.

So like, for instance, he told us he drank a lot in high school. Like, a lot. But he didn’t use that as a ‘don’t drink or party too hard’ lesson, instead he was like “I was fourteen so I always called my parents to pick me up, and they weren’t mad because they knew it meant I could trust them. So remember, always tell your parents when you’re drinking!” and then it kinda got to a point where it sounded like he was encouraging partying and drinking and the like to the group of underage kids.

And then, he told us how he used to play baseball all the time when he was a kid, and at 16 reached a crossroads in his life where the Phillies wanted to draft him or he could go play football for Penn State. And he said he went with Penn State but later lost the scholarship for some reason and we’re like…really.

There was absolutely nothing coherent about anything he was saying- nothing that tied anything together, made a point, seemed like it had anything to do with an assembly on self esteem. He told us at one point he was making upwards of 7 million a year. He told us one time before college he was homeless. He told us he used to own a construction company and built his own branch of nightclubs himself, that he and his friend then ran. He told us he fought a shark and came out with no scars. He told us that he had less money now, because after surviving a work related accident- direct quote- “I fell almost 30 feet and I broke in half” - he decided to leave that industry and spend more time with his family.

So, yeah, I was pretty positive this was bullshit, but there were clearly kids in the room that were falling for it. But then he said something like…he and his friend got bored one day and started jarring up their own pasta sauce, and made a deal with wegmans or some store like that to start selling it, and now he has a pasta sauce empire. Like he spent 15 fucking minutes on this. The way he kept saying ‘pasta sauce’ was so annoying I was about to claw my ears out. But anyway, two girls in my grade wanted to find out what brand he was talking about, so they googled his name.

And then quietly gasped.

And then furiously started typing into their phones.

And remember- everyone, even though they were paying attention- was on twitter and facebook. All the sudden I see heads flying up and wide eyes and people whispering to each other. Mr. Jean doesn’t seem to notice the change and keeps rambling on, but I know something happened so I google him too and-

Okay so basically he’s 1) been arrested, 2) filed for bankruptcy like three times and 3) has been hailed as a ‘Swinger Guru’ by playboy.

EVERYONES SILENTLY FLIPPING OUT.

So by now, this is a fucking game- he still doesn’t notice anything wrong amongst the kids, so we’re all silently texting each other to fill each other in. Pulling up receipts. But still playing the part of politely intrigued audience members. The school faculty have no fucking idea what’s going on, until one of the students texts her mom, who happens to be the woman that convinced the principal to hire this guy. We see her check her phone, go wide-eyed, and she runs out of the fucking room presumably to either find the principal or hide in terror.

So Mr. Jean had been talking to random people intermittently throughout this speech, but we reach the ‘questions’ part of it. Everyone seems to silently agree that instead of just asking him anything outright, we should just see how good of a liar he was. So they’d be asking him stuff like ‘how much money did you make with ____ company’ and he’d give a ridiculously high number as people were sending each other reports of him filing for bankruptcy during that time. Or they asked him about his construction business which he said was great, and while he was talking about how great it was we were all reading his arrest report, from when a woman hired him to build her house, and he took her money and then like…just didn’t build anything. Wild. Someone asked him about his family and he’s extolling Christian virtues while we’re all on the website for his annual Swing Fest. People would ask him how he got certain jobs and he was making promises to hook kids up in interviews and shit. Everyone was loosing their God damn minds online and just barely holding it together in person. This man was so beyond full of shit- like, he was a God awful life coach but his dedication to lying was inspirational.

We eventually get to leave and everyone is yelling and cracking up and freaking out, all running to our classes to tell the teachers and the underclassmen everything, and the teachers are freaking out, alternating between horrified confusion and laughing hysterically. Before the school day even ended, someone had called a bunch of news stations. The principal was freaking out and denying he had anything to do with it, before calling some students to his office to see what exactly the kids had searched up on the guy…Because apparently teenagers can perform better background checks than school officials. It was all anyone could talk about for weeks.

A couple months after this, for my theater class’ showcase, I wrote and directed a skit called ‘Mason B. Mean’. It was a huge hit. The principal was in the audience. I’ve never seen a grown man look so dead inside. I made sure I was out of the room before he came up to congratulate the cast and everything. The next day, my theater teacher told me his only comment about the skit was a quiet, long-suffering “Why.” 😂😂

Annnnnnnnd that’s the time a Swinger Entrepreneur rambled on about pasta sauce and money in front of teenagers who knew how to use google for almost two hours.  

http://www.philly.com/philly/news/breaking/Montco_principal_apologizes_for_having_swinger_entrepreneur_speak_to_kids.html

i know it’s kind of a meme in the fandom that viktor thought making A SCENE and greeting yuuri naked in japan but i think that was completely unintentional? which makes it even funnier imo?

allow me to explain

i don’t know exactly how long after yuuri’s video went viral that this scene happens, but it’s safe to say that at least a couple of days passed? perhaps a week or a bit more, even though the anime makes it look like it’s on the next day?

so he’s been avoiding the media for days, keeping his phone off so absolutely nobody’s going to be able to reach him until people forget about this madness 

which means he’s also entirely clueless about the rumors of viktor being his coach

and it makes it so much funnier because we know yuuri’s dad doesn’t know jack shit about figure skating, and viktor doesn’t know how to speak japanese AND IT WAS PROBABLY TOSHIYA WHO FIRST TALKED TO VIKTOR WHEN HE ARRIVED AT YU-TOPIA?

TOSHIYA IF YOU’D ONLY GET INTO YOUR SON’S ROOM, LOOKED AROUND AND DID THE MATH YOU WOULD KNOW

so what has happened was probably something like “i have no idea what you’re saying mr. foreign-dude but you’re probably here for our famous onsen so yes make yourself comfortable” which viktor, tired as fuck from his travel (a long ass flight from st. petersburg to tokyo, probably? plus the train from tokyo to hasetsu?) GLADLY ACCEPTS

hell yeah i’m going to enjoy the fuck out of his hot spring

since yuuri is nowhere to be seen why not take some time to relax after a long travel, am i right

it’s not like viktor would understand if yuuri’s parents were to say “oh yes yuuri is holed up in his bedroom but he’ll come out eventually” so as viktor is pretty sure he found the right place and that yuuri is there he’ll just wait and have a nice soak meanwhile

AND THEN YUURI JUST BARGES INTO THE ROOM WHERE VIKTOR IS BATHING

well, this was not how i had planned this to go but here you are?

AND OF COURSE, STANDING UP WAS COMPLETELY UNNECESSARY BUT VIKTOR BASICALLY INVENTED BEING EXTRA AND… LET ME SHOW YOU MY HOT BOD BECAUSE I GOT TO SEE YOUR ALMOST-EVERYTHING AT THE BANQUET SO I THINK IT’S FAIR YOU GET TO SEE ME NOW AM I RIGHT??? 

in viktor’s mind, yuuri is this extroverted, outgoing party animal he got to know at the banquet and was absolutely mesmerized by, so he probably thinks yuuri’s going to be alright with this extra introduction? also knowing yuuri lives and probably worked at the onsen for a while viktor maybe just assumes he’s probably unfazed by nudity?

oh viktor, little did you know

it just gets funnier the more you look into it

AUs no one asked for
  •  I’m sleeping over at my friend’s flat from university after study group and just got woken up in the middle of the night by their roommate, who is sitting in the kitchen, listening very loudly to the dirty dancing soundtrack and crying. Like wtf, I didn’t even know they had a roommate and normally I would yell at you but damn you are cute. You really need to stop tho dude, its 4am, some people in this house want to sleep AU
  • I am a barista and you are a customer who comes in every day and orders the same thing and today my friend brought you with them, I didn’t even know we had mutual friends and WHAT DO YOU MEAN THAT IS NOT ACTUALLY YOUR NAME HAVE I REALLY BEEN WRITING A NAME THAT IS NOT EVEN CLOSE TO YOURS ON YOUR CUPS FOR OVER HALF A YEAR WHY HAVE YOU NEVER CORRECTED ME AU
  • The house party me and my friends threw kinda escalated and after throwing out everyone I found this half naked person passed out in my bed but I can’t be bothered to wake them up now so I’m just gonna go to sleep and deal with it in the morning, they are kind of cute anyway AU
  • (or alternatively) I just woke up in a stranger’s bed and I’m half naked, I cant remember anything about yesterday besides that the party was great and that I got absolutely wasted AND OH MY GOD THERE IS A HOT PERSON NEXT TO ME IN BED AND THEY ARE NOT WEARING MUCH WHAT DID WE DO YESTERDAY AU
  • You are my new coworker and I’m pretty sure I’ve never met you SO WHY ARE YOU LOOKING SO FAMILIAR FUCK I THINK YOU ARE ONE OF THOSE ANGSTY EMO KIDS I USED TO STALK BACK IN THE MYSPACE DAYS I CANT BELIEVE THIS AU
  • We work out at the same gym and you are my declared rival because we have the same workout routine and you are always better than me and on my way to the locker room I passed you in the shower where you were singing the opening of hannah montana and I can still hear you and you switched to the lion king now and even though I hate you I think I am kind of in love with you AU
  • I’m hiding in the bathroom of a restaurant from a spectacularly awful tinder date and you are in a similar situation because a guy at the bar just won’t stop hitting on you and now we are planning an epic escape together even though we only met ten minutes ago AU

Yuuri pats his head gently, threading his fingers through his friend’s hair. It’s really soft, he notices absently, even more so than usual. The silver strands shine in the dark Potions classroom, where the fluorescent vials give off multi-coloured light from the shelves, making it seem like something out of an old sci-fi film from when he was little. His hair is so long now, Yuuri muses, curling a grey strand in the palm of his hand. It’s always been pretty, but now it’s become gorgeous; he hogs all the attention in the room, all the awareness Yuuri can possibly give.

commission by gomadelpelorota over on twitter for her super amazing HP au fic, expomise! this was a scene in chapter 7, which you can read here!

Bad Things- Jughead Jones

Pairing: Jughead x Reader

Description: Just glimpses in to Jughead and Reader’s relationship. Heavily based off of the song “Bad Things” by Camila Cabello and Machine gun Kelly because I’m a total slut for that bop

Warnings: SIN SIN SIN SIN SO MUCH SIN IM A SINNER, Swearing, implied smut, actual descriptive smut like guys this is kinda intense.

I DID IT OKAY I SINNED FOR Y’ALL

(Disclaimer: If you are uncomfortable with Jughead Jones smut then Do.Not.Read. This is literal actual smut intended for the Riverdale Tv Show version of Jughead Jones portrayed by Cole Sprouse, as all my other fics are. If you are offended or do not like this kind of stuff, then just keep scrolling. This is requested by my followers and I won’t deny it or not do it simply because a few other people don’t like it.)


            ___________________________________________-

“Am I outta my head, am I outta my mind? If you only knew the bad things I like.”


It was the little things about him that always had me craving him. The veins along his wrists, when his jaw was clenched. The little hints of curls that poked out of his gray beanie, almost as if they were begging to see the light of day. The frame of his body was probably my favorite part. I had never been attracted to buff men, particularly guys like my friend Archie Andrews. He was a whole different story though. He was tall and lean, almost comparing to the body of a track runner, but his body was still toned in all of the right places, and he was certainly strong enough to carry me up my stairs to my bedroom. Jughead Jones made me think the most sinful things, and I couldn’t ever stop. I’m just lucky that the feeling is mutual.

“Y/n?Did you just hear a thing I said?” My best friend Veronica looked at me expectantly, her eyebrows raised and looking frustrated with me. Truthfully, I hadn’t heard a thing she said. I was too busy focusing my attention on something more…interesting.

Jughead Jones had started out as a friend. That’s how they all did, right? We had four classes together, and mutual friends, so of course, we grew incredibly close over time.Eventually, it became something more The boy stared back at me, his blue eyes piercing through mine and in to my head, almost reading my thoughts. I saw as he mouthed a simple word “tonight” and I gave him a slight nod, biting my lip in response.

“Sorry V, she’s too focused on her loverboy.” Archie taunted me, passing by us and to his friend, knocking shoulders with him. Jughead blushed slightly, not moving from his position on the lockers, his arms crossed over him. I could fix that.

I strutted over, my hips moving a little more than they usually do. Jughead uncrossed his arms and they immediately went to my waist once I reached him, pulling me in to his body that was still against the lockers. I leaned up, pressing my lips to his quickly before the bell rang. I broke apart from my boyfriend, my hand sliding down his shirt slowly. I pulled away, winking at him before strutting off. I didn’t even have to turn around to know his eyes were on me, watching my every step.



“No matter what you say, no matter what you do, I only wanna do bad things to you.”



Jughead and I had been together for a good six months before we got in to our first fight. He always had his nose shoved in to his laptop, and I got no attention from him anymore, and I was angry. I had waited a while for him to notice, and he never did, so I took matters in to my own hands.

My boyfriend sat at a stool in my kitchen, his hands in his hair and his laptop in front of him, His beanie long forgotten on the counter. If I wasn’t so pissed at him, I might have offered to release some of that tension, but I wasn’t in a giving mood that day. I slammed the laptop shut, my eyes glaring at him. Jughead looked up at me with a confused look.

“Forsythe, do you remember why I invited you over?” I asked him, my eyebrow cocked while I waited to his answer. His mouth opened slightly, trying to string together something and drawing up a blank. I scoffed, shaking my head and walking away.

“Baby, wait-” Jughead hopped off the stool, following me out of the room.

“Jughead, I asked you to come over because I wanted to spend time with you!! Not so I could watch you on your laptop the whole time! I just want some of you to myself!is that too much?”

“You know how important this novel is to me, y/n-”

“ I know that! But I should be more important!” I shouted. I didn’t care if I sounded selfish. I was pissed.

“ Of course you’re more important! What kind of question is that?!” Jughead looked at me like I was ridiculous and I shook my head.

“Really? Because sometimes it feels like you would choose that book over me if it came down to it.” I crossed my arms, my foot tapping against the hardwood floor. Jughead’s face fell, and the anger on his face was replaced with a sad look.

“That is not true, that is not true at all, I would always choose you.” Jughead closed the gap between us, his arms wrapping around my waist. I pushed him away slightly, my hands on his chest.


“Prove it.” I spoke bravely, my tone of voice becoming different.


Everything happened relatively quickly from there.Jughead’s hands went around my back, lifting me so my legs were wrapped around his waist, and his fingers wrapping around the backs of my thighs. His mouth was on mine and I felt my back hit the wall. Jughead’s lips went to my neck, sucking harshly at the skin until purple bruises adorned it. My hands went to his sweater, almost ripping the fabric just to get it off of him.

“ My room,” I panted, my hands tangled in Jughead’s hair while he sucked harshly at the collarbone peeking out of my tank top. He adjusted my body that was wrapped around his before making his way to the stairs, carrying me up them. I felt my back hit my mattress and Jughead was on top of me, his legs on either side of my waist and his hands already under my shirt. His had already been tossed over a chair in my room.

I flipped us over so I was on top,grinding my lower body in to his. Jughead let out a low groan, his head tilting upwards at the contact. My hands made quick work unbuckling his belt, pulling it off of him quickly and unbuttoning his jeans. Jughead looked at me impressed.

“No matter how many times you do that, I’m still pretty shocked at your skillwork.” Jughead’s arms went behind his head, a smirk now on his face.

“Don’t get too comfortable.” I taunted, my hands going behind my back.

I unclasped my bra, tossing it across my room somewhere. Jughead sat up quickly, his mouth already on my chest, littering my body with hickeys. He flipped us over again so he was in control, and pressed open mouth kisses down my stomach to my hips, his fingers curling under my sweatpants and dragging the waistband down and off of me. My breath hitched in my throat when I felt his lips on my thigh, leaving light little kisses up them until his mouth was over the fabric of my underwear. My back arched off the mattress at the feeling, my fingers gripping the sheets until my knuckles turned white. Jughead hooked two of his digits in to the side of my underwear, pulling them slowly down my thighs.

“Jug… Jug please.” I begged, not really in the mood to take things slow. Jughead pulled the fabric down the rest of my legs, and they went flinging in an unknown direction of the bedroom.Jughead’s head dipped down, and I was breathing intensely, my hands going to his hair and tangling in to the strands, gripping tightly.




“We’re both wild, and the nights young, and you’re my drug.”




Parties weren’t Jughead’s thing, but Cheryl was in fact now a part of our gang, and it was only fair to at least make an appearance. So, on Saturday night, I was getting dressed and ready to go to her party. I wore a simple blue dress a gold belt with a bow around my waist, and some black ankle boots. Veronica and Betty laid on my bed, chatting amongst the two of them while I finished my makeup. I was finishing my lipstick when Archie and Jughead walked in to my door, both of them surprisingly having smiles on their faces.

Jughead made his way towards me immediately, pressing a kiss to my temple and standing behind me, his arms wrapping loosely around my shoulders. I looked at him through my vanity mirror, blowing a kiss at him, and he blushed and rolled his eyes.

“Are you almost ready y/n?” Betty sighed exasperatedly. She say up from the bed, smoothing out her romper, and Veronica wrapped her an arm around her waist, leaning her head against her girlfriends shoulder

“Oh, Bets, let the poor girl take her time. It’s always classier to be fashionably late.” Veronica pressed a kiss to the shell of Betty’s ear and her face went red.

                                       —————————————–

We arrived on time to the party and everyone split up, Betty and Veronica dancing, Archie talking to Valerie, and my back to Jughead’s chest as we sunk in to a corner of the room, to have some privacy. His arms were around my waist, holding my tightly to his body while he pressed kisses to my neck, whispering incredibly sinful things about what he would be doing to me right this minute had we not been at Cheryl’s house.

I know that Jughead would have rather been at my house tonight, cuddled in to each other on my couch watching a movie, or just talking and being in each other’s presence, or even trying out some of the things he had been whispering to me. I felt a little sympathetic for him, but I knew just the way to cheer him up.

I turned around, my hands slipping in to his, and I pulled him towards the middle of the room. An upbeat song was playing and everybody was dancing and jumping around. Jughead huffed, not wanting to go, but I knew he wouldn’t resist if I tried hard enough.

I finally got him to the middle of the room, my hands lacing with his, my back pressed against his chest as my hips swayed back and forth to the music. I could feel Jughead was tense, so I gave him a little incentive by pushing my lower body in to his slightly, and I heard his breath shudder a bit before he was moving his body against mine and his lips were on my neck.

“we should go back to your place."Jughead whispered, his lips brushing against my skin. I tilted my neck so he could have easier access, taking his hands in mine and running them down the sides of my body. With the way his body was moving against mine, and all the things he had been sharing with me earlier, it would be an understatement to say I was worked up. I grabbed his hand again, weaving through the crowds and shouting a goodbye to Betty and Veronica before starting the trek to my house. Jughead and I walked hand in hand, slowing down every once in a while to kiss each other.


"When we get home, you’re in for it.”

“Oh, I know.”




“And you keep me in with those hips, while my teeth sink in those lips, while your body’s giving me life, and you suffocate in my kiss.”


Fuck, Forsythe.” I hissed, my nails digging in to his back. My hips moved slowly down on to his length, my fingers moving up his back and in to his hair. His hands were wrapped around my body, his lips biting harshly at my shoulder. When I felt my body adjust to him, I rose my hips before sinking back down on to him again.Jughead captured my lips with his, his teeth biting gently in to my bottom lip. We lazily kissed as I moved up and down slowly, my walls tightening around him slightly. Jughead held me as close to his body as he could, our chests pressed together.

I was on cloud 9 every time I was intimate with Jug. Everything about him was breath taking, and he was so beautiful when he was like this: his lips slightly parted, his curly hair matted down and sticking to his forehead, and his body shining from the warmth of our bodies colliding.

I started to move my hips a little faster, grinding down on to Jughead’s hips. Jughead buried his face in to the crook of my neck, and his arms wrapped around me even tighter, if that was possible. I used whatever energy I had left to move my hips faster, bringing Jughead and I both to the edge. I could feel the warmth in the pit of my stomach, warning me that I was close.

“F-fuck, Forsythe,I-”

“I know, baby.” Jughead began to meet his hips with mine on every thrust, one arm unwrapping from around my body to press the pad of his finger to my clit. I gasped at the sensation, my nails scratching against his back harder.

“Shit, shit, I-I’m-” I cut myself off, not having enough breath to finish my sentence. I felt my stomach tighten and then I was cumming on Jughead’s dick, a quiet moan escaping my lips. I kept thrusting against him, riding out my high while he chases his, soon I was being hit with overstimulation, but I powered through it, bouncing against Jughead as fast as I could.

“Fuck, fuck, shit, I’m gonna-” strings of curse words escaped Jughead’s lips as he flipped us over, pounding in to me as hard as he could. His lips went around on of my nipples, sucking harshly, and his fingers rubbed quickly and forcefully against my clit, drawing out another orgasm from me.

Before I knew it, I was cumming again, this time Jughead following as he came inside me. Jughead’s body collapsed on top of mine, not before pulling out of me slowly. My hands tangled themselves in his hair and his arms went back around my body, his head laying against my chest. I could feel his heart race against my own beating heart, and I looked down at my beautiful boyfriend, as I smiled.He was all mine.





“The way we love, is so unique, and when we touch, I’m shivering.”





I woke up to the light shining from my bedroom window, the rays of sun peeking through my curtains and casting rays of light along the sleeping bodies of Jughead and I. The night before had been our one year anniversary, and he “spent the night”, Which resulted in to this morning, the both of us naked in my bed. Jughead was already awake, his fingers tracing along my arms.Goosebumps ran along my skin at the feeling of his touch, leaning up to give him a kiss.

“Good morning, sunshine.” Jughead mumbled against my lips. I giggled as his fingers went to my sides, tickling me the slightest bit.

“Good morning, handsome.” I smiled down at him, my eyes practically in the shapes of hearts. I loved this boy to death. He was the most perfect thing I had ever found in this world.

“How are you feeling?” He asked me, his fingers stopping so his arms could wrap around my back. He pulled our bodies tighter together.

“I’m great.” I told him, leaning down to press a kiss to the tip of his nose. Jughead’s face scrunched up slightly and I giggle again, my hands cupping his cheeks.

“I love you, so much. So, so, soso much.” I started pressing kisses all over his face and I felt it scrunch up again before catching my lips with his. Jughead wasn’t a super affectionate person in public, so I loved these moments I had with him, hidden away under my covers, where it was just the two of us.





“And no one has to get it, just you and me.”






“I swear to god, you two are the most sickeningly cute couple in..in… In god knows what!” Veronica threw her hands up dramatically before slamming them down on to the table at the booth. She looked at the two of us, who sat across from each other. Jughead and I didn’t break our eye contact, still looking at each other and smiling brightly.

“Come on, V.It’s cute. They’re cute.” Betty defended, sitting across from her girlfriend.

“ I know, but look at them! All they do is stare at each other like its the morning after their first time.“ Veronica scoffed before pausing for a second. Her mouth opened in shock before she whispered loudly.

"You guys fucked!” Jughead and I broke apart at that, looking at Veronica with wide eyes. I was about to shake my head when Jughead interrupted.

“We’ve been fucking, V. Catch up.” Ronnie and Betty’s mouth fell open simultaneously at the confidence in Jughead’s voice.He leaned back in the booth and turned his attention back to me, cheekily winking at me. My cheeks grew hot as I looked back at my best friends, mouths still open in shock.

“You guys, you, you’re-” Ronnie stammered, looking back and forth at each other. Jughead and I started laughing at Ronnie’s reaction, and she sputtered.

“I don’t get your relationship. I seriously don’t.” Ronnie slumped in her seat, her chin resting in the palm of her hand.

“Cheer up, V. It’s y/n and Jughead. Nobody gets it except them.” Jughead and I had already tuned out Betty though, our attention going back to each other. Nobody had to understand our relationship, because it wasn’t theirs. It was ours, And it was perfect.

Call me a terrorist and threaten my pay? Enjoy your nuked careers, yuh heathens.

(long story. tl;dr is at the end)

I used to work in hospitality in a metro known for it’s obscenely huge tourist population, you know, the city built around the Mouse. I was a manager for the recreational division of the hotel. So one day, my boss (who we’ll call Mary for the purpose of the story) comes into the shared managers office and starts rummaging around for something, and strikes up a small conversation about work related minutiae with me. It’s important to note she is actually 2 tiers above me, but was acting as head of the department while searching to replace my previous boss who recently quit (great guy by the way, huge loss to the company).

As we’re talking, she abruptly stops and says “By the way, you need to shave your beard, you look like a terrorist and I don’t employ terrorists”. Haha, funny joke between colleagues, right? Nope. I am half Indian and I do look middle-eastern, and have been taking this kind of shit since middle school. Plus, we’re not close, at all. So I reply as calmly as I can muster, “Hey, I get you’re trying to be funny, but on my end it comes off as pretty ignorant, so I’d appreciate it if you chilled out with the terrorist stuff” to which Mary retorts “Oh, I’m ignorant? We’ll see how ignorant I am during your annual review”, and proceeds to walk out of the room in a huff. My jaw dropped so low I could taste the floor.

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Okay so I found my dead grandfather’s journal from 56 years ago. This is some old stuff, okay, and I was like yeah I’m gonna read a page or two. 

Basically he wrote down this road trip he did with a friend of his (name is Giulio) but at some point it gets so weird.

I’ll try my best to translate it from italian to english (english is not my first language) and well, I’m also having a hard time trying to read my gandpa’s writing cause he wrote like a drunk snail.

Now, beware, my grandfather was an italian man dedicated to work, church, work and work, who believed in the traditional family and all that Jazz. But at some point I reach this part where he writes: “yesterday me and Giulio slept in the same tent as mine was stolen at the gas station. As it was really cold, we slept close. In the middle of the night I realized that the warmth next to me did not belong to my Nadia (his fiancé at the time, my grandmother). It was the most intense feeling I’ve ever felt”.

And I was like allright that’s some weird no homo bullshit but who cares.

BUT THEN IT JUST GETS WORSE.

“I was having a cigarette whilst Giulio was asleep in the car, having a nap before we hit the road again. In the midst of the smoke of my tobacco, I saw his face and thought that the woman who is going to marry him will be lucky”.

Grandpa, what the hell? 

BUT OH NO IT JUST GETS BETTER.

“We shared a bed. Old motel did not have spare rooms, it was awkward at first. Then I started thinking that the warmth of Giulio’s body is somehow becoming more familiar to me then Nadia’s.”

Now, I have like seventy more pages of this goddamn journal but I am pretty fucking sure my gandfather had the worst crush over his best friend.


The complete post X

His First. (A Dirty Harry Styles One Shot)

- In which Harry is a bit.. inexperienced in the bedroom.

Harry thought he could hide it. He thought he could get away with it. But, when everything came to him so all of a sudden, he realized that he was trapped, and the only way to get out, was by telling the truth. 

And so he did.

“What?” you ask breathlessly, your hands at the mid of Harry’s patterned shirt, fingers frozen on the buttons, pulling the colorful fabric away from his tall and lanky form.

“I-I’m.. yeh are my first.”


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“We both tried to grab at the last copy of that desired book at the same time and had a tug of war.” (from this post)

Sterek ficlet, T, ~1.6k words. Basically, I was going to just do a tiny little drabble as a warm-up for working on one of my WIPs, and then I was having too much fun with it to stop.

(Btw, if you couldn’t tell, I totally made up the book series in question. Any resemblance to any actual book is completely coincidental.) 

It’s definitely some kind of torture that on the day the seventh and final Path of Wolves novel comes out, Stiles still has to go to school like it’s not the most important day of the year or anything.

And okay, so it’s not like anyone else in Beacon Hills has even heard of these books except Scott, and then only because Stiles can’t shut up about them, but still. Stiles spends the entire day practically vibrating out of his skin with the anticipation. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t taken in a word any of his teachers has said today. The only reason he doesn’t try to make a break for it during lunch is that he can’t afford another detention on his record, and even so, he’s still sorely, sorely tempted to risk it. In the end, he has to get Lydia to hide his car keys from him.

(He was going to ask Scott to do it, but Scott would have caved as soon as Stiles started begging, and Stiles is definitely not above begging, so Lydia it is.)

The instant the final bell rings, though, Stiles is out of there, flying across the parking lot and gunning the Jeep. The bookstore probably only ordered a few copies, and if Stiles isn’t holding one of them by the time he leaves, somebody’s about to get murdered.

Not that he actually expects any competition, but it’s better not to let these things go to chance. He already messed up once by procrastinating on pre-ordering until they were sold out; he didn’t think it was possible for a Path of Wolves novel to be sold out. He was wrong, and now he’s paying for it by having to physically go to the bookstore to get it.

Either Stiles vastly overestimated how many copies the store was going to order, or else he vastly underestimated how many people in Beacon Hills read these books, because when he skids to a stop in front of the New Releases shelf, there’s only one copy left. One beautiful, perfect hardcover copy.

Lucky for him, one copy is enough.

Except that when he grabs ahold of it, someone else does, too.

For a long second, Stiles can’t even believe what he’s seeing. Another hand, on his book. Another hand that’s not letting go, even though Stiles has already clearly and unambiguously grabbed it by the spine and isn’t letting go, either.

Stiles turns his head incredulously to get a look at this usurper, and it’s Derek Hale. As in, made-of-muscles, leather-wearing lacrosse captain Derek Hale.

Until this moment, Stiles wasn’t even sure Derek could read, and now he’s trying to steal Stiles’ obscure eight-hundred-page fantasy novel. What.

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Mister Hockey and the boy crying in the kitchen

(complete version)

Alternate Universe where Bitty is a figure skater at Samwell. He and Jack meet for the first time at #Epikegster 2014.

warning labels: Alcohol, mentioned homophobia, Parse. 


 Jack went down the stairs with a huff of annoyance. The first floor of the Haus was packed from wall to wall. Loup thumping music, laughter and yells that were barely tolerable from his room now seemed almost tangible, crushing him from all sides. He could already feel the beginnings of a headache.

 He pushed his way through and managed to reach the kitchen unscated. Only three guys were sitting at the table, loudly debating Plato’s cavern versus the Matrix, and another was leaning on the counter near the stove, muttering to himself.

Jack opened a cupboard, swore under his breath when he saw that it was empty of their usual mugs, glasses and bottles. He took a new red solo cup from the enormous pack available to all, and filled it with tap water, trying to ignore the guys at the table.

 ‘…aren’t you the most precious thing, baby…’

 Jack turned around. The guy next to the oven was muttering endearments with a southern drawl- but there was no one next to him. He wasn’t even holding a phone.

 Jack had a doubt. Was the guy talking to him?

 ‘Yes, you are lovely, a bit old, but I would love you, and take care of you, and create glorious things with you, oh sweetheart, if only…’

 The guy was not talking to Jack. He was talking to the oven.

 He was also, apparently, completely drunk.

 ‘… better things than pizza rolls, you can be sure of that, you sexy thing…’

 Jack was a moment away from heading back to his room when he heard a sob.

 ‘… but it’s not to be, pretty thing, you and I will have to go our own separate ways and- sniffle- get with our own lonely lives and - oh lord, I’m being ridiculous-’

 ‘Huh-’ started Jack. ‘Are you okay?’

 The guy turned around. He looked older than Jack expected. At least, he seemed to be over eighteen. Jack only had an impression of eyes and blond before he got the drunkest and fakest smile he ever saw in his life.

 ‘HI!’ said the boy. ‘Gosh, you’re big.’

‘… are you okay?’ repeated Jack.

 ‘Why, yes, of course! I’m peachy!’

 ‘You’re crying.’

 The guy seemed surprised by this fact. He dried his tears with the sleeve of his hoodie and made a dismissive gesture with his other hand.

 ‘Don’t mind me, sweetheart, I’m being silly.’

 ‘…You were crying,’ insisted Jack. ‘And talking to the oven.’

 ‘Well, no one else seemed to give her love, so I figured-’

 He stopped himself and looked at Jack.

 ‘You’re the Captain of the hockey team,’ he realised. ‘This is your house. This is your oven.’

 ‘…Yes? In a manner of speaking?’

 ‘What’s her name?’

 ‘Whose name?’

 ‘The OVEN,’ insisted the guy.

 ‘She- it doesn’t have a name?’

 ‘Blasphemy. If I had the chance to own such a lovely baby, I would name her something adorable! Like Daisy, or Betsy, and I would bake everyday, I would make pies and cookies and biscuits and-’

 He burst into tears.

 Jack threw a look around. The guys at the table were staring at them.

 ‘Dude, what’d you do to him?’

 ‘Nothing!’

 ‘D’you break up with him or something?’

 ‘No! We just met! He was talking about the oven- and then- and then-’

 He made a helpless motion towards the crying boy.

 ‘Maybe you should do something about it?’ suggested one of them.

 ‘Like what?’

 ‘Dunno. Something. To make him stop crying.’

 Jack hesitated. He thought about retreating to the safety of his room, where the music didn’t hurt his ears and blonde strangers didn’t burst into tears at the sight of a kitchen appliance.

 Awkwardly, he lifted a hand and patted the guy’s shoulder.

 ‘…there, there,’ he muttered, feeling like the most ridiculous man on Earth.

 He got several thumbs ups from the table residents. Which didn’t help his predicament at all. The boy was still crying.

 ‘Hey, hey, shh, don’t cry, everything is going to be okay…’

 ‘You don’t know that!’ wailed the blonde boy.

 ‘Okay, you’re right. Maybe, huh, what could make it right?’

 ‘I want to BAAAAAAAAAKE!’


(more under the cut!)

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TalesFromTheFrontDesk: That time I was one of the weird guests who didn't trust the motel

In my early 20s, I took a quick vacation to a coastal city where I only had time to book two nights. Being largely broke, I researched online to find the cheapest possible hotel with acceptable ratings, and I booked a room at an okay place: a highway-side motel with exterior balconies that had once been a pretty nice family getaway but was now a rung or two above hotels with a number after the name.

But there was a major hitch: despite reviews saying the staff was helpful and the parking lot was well-lighted etc. multiple reviews claimed that housekeeping had a habit of stealing items from rooms. It wasn’t just one or two snowflakes ranting - there were reviews going back for several years where guests complained that valuable stuff had gone missing and management had searched for it to no avail.

If I’d had more money, this (apparent) history of theft would have gotten the motel booted off my candidate list, but I was living at home while working full time in another town with a ninety minute commute, so I was grateful that I could have a vacation at all.

Anyway.

I check in and the front desk is friendly and super helpful, just like the online reviews promised. The room hasn’t been updated in twenty-five years and smells like the cigarette smoke from people who’ve long since died from emphysema, but I don’t care since I’m only using the place to crash.

Still, those reviews of housekeeper theft bother me. And so, me being way more anxious at the time than I am now, decide to stuff anything I considered “valuable” into my duffel bag and take it with me in my car when I go to the city proper. This, along with my backpack which I planned to take with me anyway, is pretty much all I brought on this trip.

When I get back to the motel in the evening, I try my key card in the door. It doesn’t work.

No big deal, I’ve stayed at hotels many times before, I know the drill. I go to the front desk.

Me: Excuse me, my card doesn’t work.

FD: Can I see your ID? What’s your room number?

Me: (shows her my ID) 222.

FD: (looks at the computer) It says here that you checked out.

Me: What?

FD: Yep. You are Carcharodon, right?

Me: I am.

FD: Yeah, Carcharodon checked out at 11:25 AM today.

Me: I don’t understand. I wasn’t anywhere near the office then. I paid for another night at this hotel.

FD: That’s what this says. “Guest checked out”.

For a moment, I have a horrific feeling that I’ve somehow crossed over into an alternate timeline where I had indeed checked out that morning, and now I was trapped outside both the confines of cause and effect and my place to spend the night.

FD: Hold on a second.

I wait for a few minutes and then the FDA comes back smiling. It turns out that I’d left so few items in the room - toiletries, a shaving kit, books and a couple articles of clothing - that housekeeping assumed I’d checked out. Thankfully they still had a room available (the same room I’d “checked out” of earlier) and they’d saved all my personal items, which the motel had sealed in individual Ziploc bags with my name and room number. FDA gave them to me one by one and it was like getting my belongings back after being released from prison.

tl;dr I was paranoid and didn’t trust housekeeping with my belongings, so housekeeping checked me out of my room.

By: Carcharodon_literati

Tricky*

Pairing: Bearded!Steve Rogers x Reader
Rating: Mature
Summary: Reader admires Steve shaving his beard and wants to finish the job herself.
Word Count: 1.8k
Genre: Fluff/NSFW-ish
Warnings: ambiguous relationship, Steve being a sarcastic bastard, flirting, innuendos/suggestive themes, sexual tension and light hair pulling.
Author’s Note: it’s inspired by a conversation with a friend about Bearded!Steve in Avengers: Infinity War. The second gif below is from the shaving scene between Moneypenney and Bond in Skyfall, which you all need to watch because… dayum!

   Verona, Italy

As you opened the door of your hotel room, you popped your head out; looking at either side of the corridor a little while after the breakfast had been served. Seeing no one on the perimeter, you tied your robe around your waist and closed the door behind you.

Tiptoeing, you went across the hall. You reached the door of the partner you’d been assigned for this mission and carefully knocked. As you distinguished the familiar sound of his footsteps in the room, you glanced behind you to make sure no one was watching you. The same move you’d been making for the last few days.

Steve opened the door enough for you to see him holding his shield. He let his guard down, smiling as he saw you. You took notice of the only towel he wore around his narrow waist, his hair damped and messy like he’d been drying them before you’d interrupted him.

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When King Regis calls (part 3)
  • Noctis: No I'm not answering this, after what you did before.
  • Ignis: But Noctis, King Regis would contact you only if it's a very important matter.
  • Gladio: Yeah, have some respect for the old man.
  • Prompto: Maybe he just misses you?
  • *everyone else in the room is giving him a dirty look*
  • Noctis: ... Fine.
  • Noctis: Hey da-
  • Prompto: PLEASE USE A CONDOM NOCTIS
  • Ignis: I'M COOKING METH
  • Gladio: MY SWORD IS NOT THE ONLY THING THAT'S THICK AND LONG!
  • LUNA: I'M PREGNANT WITH NYX
  • *Nyx chokes on his drink in the background*
  • Cindy: AUGH NOW THAT'S A NOICE REAR HIGHNESS
  • *Aranea decided that it's her turn to make the weird sexual noises this time*
  • Noctis: I'll call you later.
  • Noctis:
  • Noctis: I'm going to ignore all of you for like five mins.
Mister Hockey and the boy crying in the kitchen


Here’s the first part of a fic- AU where Bitty and Jack meet for the first time at the EpicKegster. 

Note that the second part of this is not written yet, and I’m crushed under my to-do list, so don’t expect it soon and please don’t ask when the next part will come, I don’t know. But I wanted to share this with y’all, so I hope you enjoy. 

I apologise for errors, typos or weird sentence structure, all my editing power is and will be concentrated on my own novel, so ha. 

pairings and warnings: pretty much what you get from the canon





Jack went down the stairs with a huff of annoyance. The first floor of the Haus was packed from wall to wall. Loud thumping music, laughter and yells that were barely tolerable from his room now seemed almost tangible, crushing him from all sides. He could already feel the beginnings of a headache.

He pushed his way through and managed to reach the kitchen unscathed. Only three guys were sitting at the table, loudly debating Plato’s cavern versus the Matrix, and another was leaning on the counter near the stove, muttering to himself.

Jack opened a cupboard, swore under his breath when he saw that it was empty of their usual mugs, glasses and bottles. He took a new red solo cup from the enormous pack available to all, and filled it with tap water, trying to ignore the guys at the table.

‘…aren’t you the most precious thing, baby…’

Jack turned around. The guy next to the oven was muttering endearments with a southern drawl- but there was no one next to him. He wasn’t even holding his phone.

Jack had a doubt. Was the guy talking to him?

‘Yes, you are lovely, a bit old, but I would love you, and take care of you, and create glorious things with you, oh sweetheart, if only…’

The guy was not talking to Jack. He was talking to the oven.

He was also, apparently, completely drunk.

‘… better things than pizza rolls, you can be sure of that, you sexy thing…’

Jack was a moment away from heading back to his room when he heard a sob.

‘… but it’s not to be, pretty thing, you and I will have to go our own separate ways and- sniffle- get with our own lonely lives and - oh lord, I’m being ridiculous-’

‘Huh-’ started Jack. ‘Are you okay?’

The guy turned around. He looked older than Jack expected. At least, he seemed to be over eighteen. Jack only had an impression of eyes and blond before he got the drunkest and fakest smile he ever saw in his life.

‘HI!’ said the boy. ‘Gosh, you’re big.’

‘… are you okay?’ repeated Jack.

‘Why, yes, of course! I’m peachy!’

‘You’re crying.’

The guy seemed surprised by this fact. He dried his tears with the sleeve of his hoodie and made a dismissive gesture with his other hand.

‘Don’t mind me, sweetheart, I’m being silly.’

‘…You were crying,’ insisted Jack. ‘And talking to the oven.’

‘Well, no one else seemed to give her love, so I figured-’

He stopped himself and looked at Jack.

‘You’re the Captain of the hockey team,’ he realised. ‘This is your house. This is your oven.’

‘…Yes? In a manner of speaking?’

‘What’s her name?’

‘Whose name?’

‘The OVEN,’ insisted the guy.

‘She- it doesn’t have a name?’

‘Blasphemy. If I had the chance to own such a lovely baby, I would name her something adorable! Like Daisy, or Betsy, and I would bake everyday, I would make pies and cookies and biscuits and-’

He burst into tears.

Jack threw a look around. The guys at the table were staring at them.

‘Dude, what’d’you do to him?’

‘Nothing!’

‘D’you break up with him or something?’

‘No! We just met! He was talking about the oven- and then- and then-’

He made a helpless motion towards the crying boy.

‘Maybe you should do something about it?’ suggested one of them.

‘Like what?’

‘Dunno. Something. To make him stop crying.’

Jack hesitated. He thought about retreating to the safety of his room, where the music didn’t hurt his ears and blonde strangers didn’t burst into tears at the sight of a kitchen appliance.

Awkwardly, he lifted a hand and patted the guy’s shoulder.

‘…there, there,’ he muttered, feeling like the most ridiculous man on Earth.

He got several thumbs ups from the table residents. Which didn’t help his predicament at all. The boy was still crying.

‘Hey, hey, shh, don’t cry, everything is going to be okay…’

‘You don’t know that!’ wailed the blonde boy.

‘Okay, you’re right. Maybe, huh, what could make it right?’

‘I want to BAAAAAAAAAKE!’

Keep reading

so happy with my room right now! some pretty wild things happened on saturday night, and i couldn’t concentrate at all on sunday. needless to say something that only needed a couple of hours of work ended up taking 6 hours. still, very thankful for some of the distractions, like having dinner with my country mates, a productive student council meeting, good people and good conversations. so important to have amazing friends who always forgive you for the stupid things you do.

my hot nerd || peter parker

Characters: peter parker/reader

Genre: fluff, slight smut

Warnings: make out session (;

Summary: Peter comes back from his nightly shenanigans and finds his girlfriend waiting for him in his bedroom.

Request: Pls do this one like with the reader and peter making out or something and it it’s the “Ya know for a nerd you have some pretty nice abs" idea cause that would be so good x
 -  @amber-b242

Originally posted by peterbparkerr

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Midnight Talks Pt. One || Peter Parker Imagine

Originally posted by space1boy

(not my gif)

Word Count: 743 words

Pairing: Spider-Man x reader

You turned to look at the alarm clock. 12:00 am. Thinking about how much school was going to suck tomorrow due to your terrible sleep schedule, you decided to turn off the lights and try to get some sleep. All that was going through your mind was Peter Parker. He is something else. His hair is so fluffy and his eyes are the color of chocolate. Peter and his dumb science jokes are only some of the reasons why you like him so much. He is just, amazing. (see what i did there)

Glancing at your phone one last time, a loud sudden banging at your window startled you. “What the hell…” You muttered under your breath as you started slowly walking towards the glass pane, scarred to death at who would be at your window at midnight.

You stood in front of the clear glass in shock at the red and blue suit. It was Spider-Man. THE fucking Spider-Man. And he did not look like he was having a good day.

You pushed open the window and grabbed the man’s very muscular arm to guide him into your bedroom. “Shit, shit, shit. Dude, are you okay?” You asked as the city’s hero was now on your floor, on his stomach, groaning in plain. “Yeah I’m, I’m okay.” He said trying to get up off the floor, getting onto his hands and knees before he fell back down.

“Do you need anything?” You asked, worried about the man, who sounded almost like a teenager. “Ummm, I-I just. Who are you? Where’s Ned?” He asked through gritted teeth. “Sorry buddy, there isn’t a Ned that lives here. But I’m Y/N and I think you might need an ice pack or something,” you answered. “and maybe an Advil.”

“Y-yes please. That would be awesome.” Spider-Man replied. You rushed to grab a frozen bag of some random food to use as a makeshift ice pack and a glass of water before heading towards your bathroom. You very quietly searched for the pill bottle to not disturb your family. After a few seconds or searching, you grabbed the Advil and tiptoed back to your bedroom. You silently shut the room’s door and turned around to see that the “man” was now leaning against your bed. You went and sat next to him as you handed him the frozen bag, and opened the pill bottle to give him the medicine. “Thanks.” He muttered as he but the bag of frozen food against his ribs before chucking the pills in his mouth and chugging the water.

“So, Spider-Dude,” you said while taking the glass away from his gloved hand and placing it on the floor, ”why did you umm, crawl through my window? Like out of all the windows in this big city?” You asked, looking at where you assumed his eyes would be.  "Well,” he sighed, “I thought this was someone else’s room. So imagine my surprise when I find a very beautiful girl standing above my crippled body.“ He chuckled at the entire situation. Boy, was it a mess.

…..Spider-Man thinks I’m pretty. THE Spider-Man thinks I’m pretty.

“Is this actually happening right now or am I just dreaming?” You asked yourself. This time, you both chuckled. “Well, as much as this hurts my ego, I did in fact groan in pain on your floor just a few minutes ago.” You laughed, he was such a funny guy.

“How old are you?” You questioned out of the blue. “What?” Spider-Man asked back, kind of surprised by your question. “I mean, you sound so young you know? Not to be rude but you don’t really sound like a man.”

“Wow, Y/N. That hurts.” He said dramatically, while putting his hand over his heart. “No, I’m just, younger than most superheroes.” He answered.

“And yet you still are one of the best heroes out there.” You told him with a kind smile.

Even though you couldn’t see it, he smiled under the mask. “That means a lot, actually. Thank you.” Spider-Man said. He was about to say something else when the two of you heard police sirens in the distance. He sighed, as he stood up, leaving the frozen bag on the floor. “That’s my cue. See you around Y/N.” He said as he ran towards the window.

“You too, Spider-Man.” You said back, just before he jumped out of the window and went back to saving the city.

Part Two   Part Three

hedgehogwithatank  asked:

What new vegas features do you miss the most in f4?

honestly? the writing. New Vegas had excellent writing, from the plot to the characters to just the dialogue options available to the courier. Having a voice is nice but with the limited dialogue you just can’t roleplay the same way you could in NV. Sole can only either be a bit of a dick, a totally nice guy or a smartass, while the courier can be anything from a complete moron, to an insufferable know-it-all, a smooth talker, a bit of a slut, a violent brute, a sarcastic douche, a by-the-book hero, a quiet badass and anything in between. 

And while we’re on dialogue, I really miss the Skill Check dialogue system from NV. You either had the skill needed to get certain things (or just finish quests on an alternate path) or you didn’t, and it was always clear because you got a display that told you how high  of a skill you needed (like “Speech [25/30]). Most importantly, if you didn’t have the needed skill, the actual dialogue would change, giving a good reason why the NPC you were talking to would react differently than if you had said the right thing. Plus some of the failed dialogue checks were some of the funniest parts of the game.

In FO4, if you pass a speech check or not is determined entirely by chance. You can have a CHA stat of 10 and still fail. Then you reload, your character says the exact same thing in the exact same context to the same character at the same time AND NOW IT WORKS FOR SOME REASON. That’s annoying busywork and kind of breaks my immersion. They had the same thing in FO3 where your chance of  success in speech checks was given in percentages and I didn’t like it there either.

I also like that the courier’s backstory was kept relatively vague, so you could make up  your own story for your character. FO4 gives you a pre-baked background that is pretty lukewarm for my tastes and doesn’t leave much room to make up your own character interpretation (unless you do some hard retconning/headcanon action to get around that, but even then it’s not amazing).

But other than that, New Vegas generally just didn’t take itself as seriously as FO4. FO4 has all this big focus on how miserable everyone is and how shitty life in the wasteland is. There is so much drama with families being torn apart, everyone being afraid of the Institute, the Brotherhood stomping about the place, children dying of incurable diseases…it is all so dark and serious and miserable it gets exhausting after a while.

New Vegas has dark stuff too, with drug use, slavery, prostitution, bureaucratic fuckery costing lives, war crimes, lack of medical aid, lack of food and fresh water and power, economic inequality…i could go on. So it absolutely has serious and dark issues. I mean one of the companion characters mercy killed his pregnant wife to spare her the horrors of slavery for fuck’s sake.

But you know what it also has? Ghouls flying to the moon. A gang of grannies in pink dresses beating people to death with rolling pins. Cyberdogs. A big blue grandma who looks like hulk and wears a cute flower hat. A gang of elvis impersonators. at least two (2) robots who think they’re cowboys. People cosplaying ancient romans. A dude wearing a dog for a hat. A giant plastic dinosaur with a store inside that sells tiny plastic dinosaur souvenirs. A sexbot called “FISTO” that you can hire for yourself if you wish.

What I’m trying to say is, New Vegas had a lot of serious themes (I’d argue them being even portrayed better than in FO4 but that’s a matter of opinion). But at the same time it didn’t lose it’s sense of humor. This is a world where science can make people live 200 years, create super mutants by dipping people in green goo, and radiation is basically magic. It’s not super serious all the time or tragic. Might as well have some fun with it. Fallout has a long history of dark comedy after all.

FO4 kinda lost the humor aspect and maybe it’s personal preference, but I never liked media where everything is just sad and miserable all the time because you get kinda tired of it and desensitized after a while. I don’t hate it or anything, but it can never reach the same place in my heart fnv did ;-;

god sorry for the novel i could just talk about fnv all day