Ay! Ay! Ayyyyyy! Ya girl is finally making her summer comeback and what better way to kick it off than to bless everyone with some Mark Lee?! I am beyond excited for this scenario, it’s fluffy…it’s hilarious (if I do say so myself). Prepare for some slightly (lol nah) tipsy adventures as Mark and you are invited to you first ever college house party! Hang on tight kiddies and enjoy!!!
DISCLAIMER: I AM NOT CONDONING OR PROMOTING UNDERAGE DRINKING!!! THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION!!!
p.s. hAve SAFE FUN PLS!
Sure, Mark had reassured you numerous times that he knew what kind of party you were going to; said that he knew the people throwing it, that it was going to be small. But as you parked along the street of the glittering house whose lawn was strewn with toilet paper and beer cans, you began to doubt him.
All throughout the week, Mark had tried to beg and convince you to go with him to the party his older friends in college were throwing on Friday night. You’d come up with valid excuses, but Mark was persistent and was never one to give in.
“Come on, ______…,” he would whine, tugging on your fingers like he knew how much you enjoyed his attention.
You would blush and roll your eyes, “But there will be alcohol right? We could get in trouble…”
He’d stand in front of you with a frown, “______, you and I both know that wouldn’t be our first time drinking.”
“Yeah, but that was at your house…”
And so the arguing would go on until you finally caved and told him you would go with him, as long as he would be with you the whole time. You didn’t know any of these people, and you’d heard enough horror stories to know that some people’s intentions weren’t always as pure as they appeared.
“Damn,” you heard Mark whisper from the driver’s seat, neck craning to look up all three stories of the bed and breakfast looking house. “Looks like it’s a frat house.”
“Is that guy naked…?,” you squinted up at a window to see the distinct backside of a boy.
“Well would you look at that,” he laughed, completely unfazed by the public nudity. “Johnny wasn’t wrong when he said these parties get crazy.”
You remained silent, sliding out of Mark’s car as he turned off the ignition and handed you his keys, winking at you, “Hang on to these for me?”
“Sure,” you nodded, blushing as you slid them into the handy pockets of your skirt. “So who’s party is this again?”
“It’s Johnny’s,” Mark grinned, walking with you up the steps of the house, which probably would look nice if it hadn’t been for all the toilet paper and cans everywhere.
“Have I met him before?,” you asked, wracking your brain for a face to the name.
“I don’t think so,” he said, knocking on the door. “I’m sure he’ll like you though.”
You nodded, the door whipping open suddenly as a rather tall boy leaned against the door frame, his hair falling into his eyes as he grinned, “If it ain’t my boy Mark! How’s it going, kid?” They exchanged a hand shake, and clapped each other on the shoulder obnoxiously before the boy looked over at you, “And who’s this cutie, Mark?”
“Johnny, meet ______,” Mark smiled, nudging you forward. “_______, this is Johnny.”
You smiled, holding out your hand, “Nice to meet you-”
“C'mere,” Johnny grinned, obviously drunk as he clumsily pulled you into his chest. He spoke to Mark over your head in a sad attempt to whisper, “She’s a keeper, Markie. Wifey material.” Mark was stuttering incoherently as you blushed, Johnny releasing you with a grin, “Go free, my little high school lovebirds. Drink to your hearts content, knock before going into rooms, and don’t let my boy Taeil sell you anything. Got it?”
Seconds later, the older boy had pulled the two of you into the chaos of the house head first. You instinctively laced your fingers with Mark’s, who looked down in surprise at your joined hands before meeting your equally shocked gaze.
You had to lean close to his ear in order for him to hear you, stuttering, “C-can I hold your hand? I don’t want to lose you.”
Mark looked down at you in reassurance, his grip tightening, “Of course you can.” He could tell you were nervous, knowing the moment you got alcohol in your system you would loosen up. “Wanna get something to drink?”
You nodded, thinking why the hell not. You were at your first college house party, might as well make the most of it. You allowed Mark to guide you through the crowd, the base thumping and rattling the windows as people danced and talked. The smell of smoke and something stinky was wafting through the air, people sitting on couches and smoking out of bowls and pipes as they faded into their high.
You gawked at everything, feeling completely overdressed in your skirt where other girls were wearing booty shorts, torn jeans, and low cut shirts. You looked down at your green croptop, which you earlier thought might have been too risqué. You laughed at yourself now as Mark tugged you towards a table with various bottles of hard liquor and plastic shot glasses.
Your eyes widened, but Mark looked over at you excitedly, “Wanna do shots with me?” He didn’t even wait for an answer, picking the closest bottle and pouring a generous amount in each cup before handing you one, “On the count of three?”
You grinned, remembering the first time you’d snuck some of Mark’s parent’s liquor when they were out. You’d done it like this too, it made you feel so nostalgic. You nodded, “On three.”
The two of you both counted down before knocking the shots back like champs, not without a fit of laughter and coughs afterwords. Unable to stop yourselves, you convinced each other to take at least two more before the effects started to kick in.
“Here,” Mark slurred, handing you a cup after pouring himself one. “It’s Jungle Juice. Whoever loses rock, paper, scissors has to drink.”
You pouted up at him, taking a step closer and grabbing his cheek, “Markie, you know I’m a lightweight, are you trying to make me throw up?” You felt so much braver when you were buzzed, and definitely touchier.
“Nuh-uh, _______,” Mark shook his head before wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you even closer. Normally you would have been embarrassed and pulled away, but you actually leaned closer, smiling lazily as Mark grinned down at you, “Best two out of three?”
“Fine,” you said, holding out your fist as the two of you dueled it out.
“Drink,” he smirked.
“Tip it back, baby,” you grinned.
“I win,” he whooped, spinning the both of you around. “Chug both of ours!”
“Fine,” you exasperated, like drinking was a chore. In your clear subconscious you knew it was a bad idea, but drunk you wanted to impress Mark. So you tipped back your red solo cup full of Jungle Juice and coughed before Mark held his own drink to your mouth, his eyes homing in on your lips.
You came up feeling dizzy, resting your head on his shoulder as he swayed to the music, “Markie can we sit for a second?”
“Sure, want me to carry ya?,” he slurred, already picking you up through your protests. God was smiling down at you as Mark successfully plopped down on the couch, situating your legs across his lap as you leaned into the cushion.
You blinked heavily and held your hand out to Mark, “Hold my hand, please.”
“Why, I’m right here, _______,” he laughed, taking your hand anyway.
“You owe me, you big butt head,” you groaned, letting your head flop down on his shoulder, “It’s your fault I’m this drunk in the first place.”
He let his head rest on yours, and you swore you felt lips on your forehead, as he grinned, “You’re having fun though right? I only care about you having fun, ______, okay?” You laughed and raised your head, the drunken truth spilling from your lips like a fountain, “Don’t say those things, Mark Lee! Sometimes I think you like-”
“_______! Mark!,” a familiar voice shouted, making the two of you look up as God interceded on your drunken behalf once again.
Someone collapsed beside you, and you had to squint before you realized it was Johnny. You felt more excited than you would have been, “Johnnyboy! Look, Mark, it’s Johnny!”
“Woah, Johnny, whatcha doin’ here?,” Mark laughed, high fiving the older boy.
“What’re you talkin’ bout,” he chuckled, taking a sip from his cup. “This is my party you drunk little punk.”
“Hey,” you said, eyes widening in realization as you leaned in towards Johnny. “You hugged me earlier!”
“Hey! So I did,” he grinned, running a hand through his hair. “You were so cute I couldn’t resist.”
From next to you, Mark shook your shoulder, pouting, “I hugged you earlier too, ______…”
“Yeah, but Johnny hugged me first, Markie,” you explained, bopping him on the nose and tracing his bottom lip as he stared at you with wide eyes.
“Wanna ‘nother hug?,” Johnny interjected, pulling you away from Mark’s wounded expression.
You were confused as to why Mark looked so hurt, but quickly forgot as Johnny pulled you into his chest again, “You know, you don’t look like a high schooler, _______.”
“What?,” you said, quirking an eyebrow as you took another sip from your cup.
“Yeah, girl, all my friends think you’re hot,” Johnny grinned, pointing to an especially attractive looking dark haired boy with veins for days. “Especially Taeyong, wanna meet him?”
“Um,” you blinked, trying to process his words. “Sure?”
Johnny grinned and whistled, catching Taeyong’s attention as the other boy weaved in and out of people like a lion stalking his prey through the grass. For some reason, as Taeyong sat down, you felt nervous for the first time.
“Taeyong, this is ______. She’s Mark’s friend,” Johnny spoke into his cup as he took another gulp.
The new arrival turned his dark gaze on you as he smiled surprisingly sweetly, holding out his hand, “Hey, I’m Taeyong.”
You took his hand, “I’m _______, but Johnny already told you that.” You blushed and Taeyong smirked, he was intimidatingly attractive, almost unreal.
To your surprise he wrapped his arm around your waist and tugged you closer, leaning in as he spoke, “Who did you come here with, baby girl?”
“I-I…,” you leaned away slightly, feeling like this wasn’t okay for some reason as you thought of Mark. “I came here with Mark.”
“Do you want to leave with him?,” Taeyong murmured in your ear, his hand wandering to the exposed skin of your thigh, tracing the hem of your skirt. “Or maybe…me?”
You stood up suddenly, wrenching yourself from his grip, “N-no, thank you. I need to find…” Who did you need to find? Why did it matter in the first place? Mark wasn’t your boyfriend, couldn’t you have fun with other boys?
Something didn’t feel right though.
You walked over to the drink table, feeling guilty as you took another drunken shot, knowing that you were already past your limit. You remembered Mark’s hurt expression and felt the need to find him. That’s who you needed to find, Mark.
You stumbled through the kitchen, finding yourself completely dizzy as you used the walls to support your weight while you walked. You called out for him, “Mark! Mark Lee! Where the hell are you?”
“You’re lookin’ for Mark?,” a boy with dyed orange hair and broad shoulders asked, taking a drag off a sketchy looking rolled cigarette.
“Yeah,” you squinted up at him as he looked down at you with a calm and amused expression. “Have you seen him? I need to say I’m sorry and give him his keys!” After saying that, you reached into your pocket and pulled out his keys, looking astounded at the fact they were there.
The older boy tucked them back into your pocket before taking you square by the shoulders and pointing to a screened door, “He’s on the porch acting emotional.”
“Thank you…,” you turned and waved at him, realizing you didn’t know his name.
“Doyoung,” he smiled, nudging you along. “Now go apologize to your friend and give him his keys. They’re kind of important.”
You nodded and stumbled slash fell through the door, startling Mark where he sat on the steps of the porch, “________?”
“Oh, Mark!,” you cried, collapsing on the ground as your legs gave out. Tears forming in your eyes as you crawled toward him, dizzy as can be. “Mark I need to tell you something.”
He didn’t seem all that mad anymore, rather amused actually, and maybe a little bit more sober than he was earlier, “And what’s that?”
You took his hand and kneeled in front of where he sat, eyes downcast as you murmured, “I’m…I’m sorry I hurt your feelings. I have your keys too…”
“What do you mean?,” he said, tilting his head at you apology as you unceremoniously dropped his keys in his lap.
Your slurred words sounded pitiful when combined with your disheveled apparence and pink cheeks, “When I said Johnny hugged me first and then you got upset.”
Mark blushed, his face turning red as he remembered why he had come out here in the first place, “O-oh, I-I…”
“Mark,” you spoke quietly, looking up at him and cupping his cheek so he had to look at you.
“I really, really like you. I like you more than a friend. Like a girl likes boy kind of like.”
“What?,” he was completely shell shocked that those words even came out of your mouth. “_______ you can’t be serious.”
Your vision began to blur because of the tears, “You don’t believe me? Mark, I’ve always liked you! And I would know I liked you if I was drunk or not.”
“You like me,” he said quietly, leaning towards you slightly, as if double checking he heard right.
You felt angry, grasping him by the front of his shirt and pulling him even closer, “Yes, you giant idiot!”
And like that, one moment you were yelling at him, the next he was kissing you sloppily, the alcohol in your systems preventing you from being properly coordinated. Your eyes spun with stars before they finally sunk close and you felt Mark’s hands come up to cup your face as you pulled him closer by his shirt. You could taste the shots you’d taken earlier with him, which made you grin against his lips.
He pulled away with a laugh, one of his laughs, “What was that for?”
“Nothin’,” you smiled, about to kiss him again before he stopped you. “What?”
“I like you too,” he smirked, seeing how surprised you looked.
“You do?,” you gasped, clambering up into his lap and taking his face in your hands. “You’re not messin’ with me?”
“Hmmm,” he simpered, contemplating his words as he pushed your hair behind your ear. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not…”
“Mark,” you whined, hitting him on his chest as he cackled again.
“I’m just joking,” he smiled, looking up at you through his drunken haze with adoration. “Can I kiss you again?” Seeing you still pouting, he nuzzled into your neck, “Please?”
You giggled as his hair tickled you, “F-fine!”
Mark smirked again, making your heart race as he captured your lips with more confidence this time, his hands grasping your hips softly as you kissed him back. It was like the loud music and people yelling inside had all but ceased to exist, the only sensation you felt through your drunken gaze was Mark’s taste, smell, and touch. You didn’t need anything else.
It felt like you’d been making out for hours, your lips feeling bruised from where Mark had been sneaky enough to bite them. Said boy pulled you to your feet and took your hand, “Wanna get some more to drink? Or maybe we can dance?”
Standing up so suddenly, you felt winded and nauseous, your head spinning as you gulped, “Count me out.”
“Should I ask someone where the nearest bathroom is?,” he grinned, hiding his snorts behind his hand while you bent over to catch your breath for a second. “I’ll even hold your hair back for you, if you want.”
AU time. Steve and Peggy as strangers who meet at some wine tasting event at a restaurant. They both feel slightly out of place. Also they get drunk together and run off on some tipsy adventure around the town.
Ooh, can I combine this with Peggy’s trip to France where she comes across the beefy, tan Steve working for her aunt at her vineyard? Peggy’s aunt has a restaurant in town where the main showcase are her wines and champagnes. Her aunt insists Peggy learn the flavors. Peggy agrees but she thought she’d be spending time with her aunt. So far all they’ve done is tend to the plants and prepare for the harvest. She’s bored out of her mind. The most entertainment she has is watching muscular Steve carry bricks back and forth to complete some landscaping for the property. Needless to say she’s not complaining.
Her aunt finally insists it’s time Peggy goes to town to the restaurant. She’s a bit reluctant because she wanted to find a way to invite Steve but he’s nowhere to be found. She’s excited to see the town so she hitches a ride. The restaurant is packed to her surprise and she has to squeeze her way to the bar. She hasn’t the slightest idea how the tasting is supposed to go and is just about to ask the sommelier (or bartender in this case? idk) when she feels a hand at her elbow and a drink being ordered for her in a familiar American voice.
Steve walks her through the whole process, leading her through the right wines in the best order, and getting to know Peggy at the same time. He takes her to a little side room where they get a little tipsy from all the wine (yeah you’re supposed to spit it out but they’re young and basically on a date so tipsy it is). Peggy mentions this is all she’s seen of town so far. Steve’s eyes light up as he grabs her hand and hauls her out the door. He takes her to all of his favorite places where history and youth combine. Dancing is involved at a local underground club, where the liquor flows freely and the music reaches the soul. There might be a few fumbles in the fountain in the center of town but luckily the police aren’t really that strict unless people are being too rowdy. Peggy wakes up with a massive hangover the next morning in Steve’s apartment, her aunt is ready to kill her when she gets back to the vineyard because she was worried sick, but summer love is worth the price of her worry and the pounding head.
“someone mentioned silence’s box office tank at scorsese’s table, and they’ve all been arguing non-stop since. pretty sure debruge from the guardian just got excommunicated..” against the deafening tones of some new-age funk band (appropriate for the event; the average age isold) valentina moves subtly, making room for herself at the table with a spare chair. the glass of rossini sits pretty on the table; her hands are too busy sorting out her mess of a train as she tries to make herself somewhat comfortable. “ i was hoping you’d be less hostile— and that you might be going to the after-party?”
Today it’s time for another round of Tipsy Cooking with Rat, and in true Rat fashion he wasn’t particularly eager to do what didn’t strike his fancy. Unfortunately fresh meat doesn’t stay fresh forever, so I was forced to resort to nonconventional methods of persuasion. So now we’re pre-drinking in the bedroom, because why not?
Also if you’ve been following my tipsy wine adventures you may notice I’m not using the Halloween wine glasses… 😒 Well, there was an Incident. Shockingly, it wasn’t the same Incident as when Rat poured wine all down the wall. But the second Halloween glass is no more and it would be wrong to use one without the other.
Author’s note: I’m still not officially taking prompts, but who doesn’t want Jolly Roger smut? Enjoy!
Yo Ho Ho
No one noticed when they slipped out of
Unlike the last one, Emma didn’t feel
much like celebrating. Her walk on the wild side still left her a bit
unsettled and she was still upset at her parents. She now understood
why they’d done what they did, but it was the lying and secrets that
still stung. The loft was the last place she wanted to be.
The only time she really felt like
herself was when Killian looked at her. Even at her worst he stayed
by her, still loved her, still saw her as his happy ending. She
couldn’t thank him enough for that. Now that she and Regina had put
things right (backed up by Henry, Robin and Killian, bless them),
Emma just wanted to retreat into his arms and rest.
And maybe a few other things they’d put
off for far too long.
someone hasn’t been reading my recaps and therefore doesn’t get the tag
or is this kanye west?
also stop applying american race values to people around the mediterranean
Jesus was Jewish (which I only mention because there are weird people on this blogging platform that consider Jewish people as having white privilege in Europe, which is so far from the truth it makes me angry every time I see a particular blogger’s name on my dash -rant and shade over-)
and while western perceptions have Jesus as a blond blue-eyed dude, I grew up with this image of him:
so seriously stop trying to lecture people from your high and mighty grey-faced throne
you’re not saying anything meaningful, you’re just annoying
last Saturday was Romano’s post birthday celebration in the Madlansacay Manor. we got there in the afternoon and had a mini red lipstick pre-requisite photo op at the lanai with the girls so my MAC Russian Red was in order…
rarely do i wanna have anything to pass through mouth after coating my lips with my hija de puta red lipstick, but i couldnt care less with lani’s home cooked awesomeness and we were all compelled to these:
** if anyone asks, i had 2 plates of these not four!**
the party went on with some serious dancing with Pancho, once we got the iPod hooked up. it was pretty dope when Pancho highlighted the party with an ASAP Rocks inspired “super dance” with his brother’s killer dance moves. things even got more interesting when this made a cameo at the party:
again i apologize for the poor quality of the photos and again i will update y'all with better photos in my next blog as soon i get a hold of the photos from lar’s camera.
happy birthday again romano and all the best to you always!!! ♥
Title: Relativity Fandom: Once Upon a Time Characters: Emma; Snow Rating: General readers Summary: The new nursery is filled to the brim with toys and love, and she can’t help but think of the ruined nursery in the Enchanted Forest. Unwittingly, she finds herself comparing the two rooms - wondering how to quantify something as immeasurable as love. Notes: So this is a companion piece to another fic of mine called Momentum. They stand by themselves but both utilize the same structure and concept. I wanted to write this fic before Season 3b starts, because I feel a good deal of this is going to become AU come Sunday. There are a few spoilers as far as speculation of what’s to come in Season 3b, but nothing really major.
Relativity: /ˌreləˈtivətē/ 1. The absence of standards of absolute and universal application. 2. The dependence of various physical phenomena on the relative motion of the observer and the observed objects.