#assorted writings

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"Should I get a boob job?"

"Hello to you— What?"

"Do you think I should get a boob job?"

"Of course not. I mean, what? Is this a test of some—"

"Shaaaane. I'm serious."

"I'm not exactly an authority on boobs. Who said you need—"

"My manager. "

"Tracie said that? Does she even like boobs?"

[Be warned this is turning into its own thing, im still gonna post my progress and little writings here tho :3333]

WARNING: Blood, Gore, Death, mentions of vomiting

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Trixie wasn’t in the room when it happened, having gone to get some food.

Loki x OC

Sokka x OC

Antisepticeye x Reader x Natemare

Beetlejuice x Readers

A Little Holiday Horror

Cookies

Mistletoe

An Interesting Tree

A Family Christmas

A Jealous Bugboy

Mike's brain does a hard reset. Or it tries to, but keeps getting stuck.

"Go to work," Harvey waves him off and sits back at the desk.

"Mmm," Mike manages.

"You're thinking about it, aren't you."

"Of course I'm fucking thinking about it. How am I supposed to think about anything else?"

Harvey sighs. "I don't pay you to stand there thinking about me getting pegged."

It’s done! Carson/Lupe offseason. I got a weird idea and couldn’t rest til it was written.

Please enjoy almost 12k of mostly talking, and some fucking.

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“What the hell are you doing here?”

“What the hell are you doing here? Wearing pearls?” She feels a bit adrift now that Lupe is in front of her. Not quite home but not quite lost either.

Lupe wrinkles her nose and looks back up the road. “It’s required for all female staff. The dress too.”

“So you work here?”

“Yeah, since January. Pitching coach. Technically teaching, but only ‘cause it’s required. You hungry?”

“Holy shit. Yeah, I could eat.” Carson laughs, suddenly, feeling carbonated and sugary. “Holy shit, I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again.”

The tall guy reminds Wei Ying of nothing so much as a low-battery Roomba, banging against the drive up window.

From inside the kitchen he'd thought it was a large bird. Birds have hit the windows before—the bakery has big roll-up garage doors in addition to a drive thru, so there are lots of windows for confused pigeons or grackles to run into. It's always sad; he has to beat them to death with the doorstop to put them out of their misery.

This sounded bigger than a pigeon. His brain immediately said "pelican," though how a pelican would find its way into downtown, he wouldn't dare to guess.

It's not a pelican, though, it's a very tall, very drunk, very beautiful guy. When Wei Ying comes into his line of sight, he stops walking into the window and just stares at him.

Wei Ying unlocks and slides the window open. "Um," he says, thoughtfully.

"You make lemon bars," Tall Guy says, staring at Wei Ying very seriously indeed.

"Yes."

"The bakery opens at seven a.m."

"Yeah. It's four."

Tall Guy is rocking slightly from side to side. "The lemon bars are baked fresh and are available at seven a.m., meaning that they are baked earlier than seven a.m. I guessed four."

"Um."

"The bars are closed. You're here, baking lemon bars."

Wei Ying reaches out and grabs two handfuls of the guy's sweater to stop him swaying. "You're making me seasick."

"We are far from the ocean."

"Yeah, no pelicans. It's too early for lemon bars. I haven't made them yet."

"Can I watch." It doesn't really sound like a question. Wei Ying suspects that nothing this guy says would sound like a question.

"You want to watch me make lemon bars at four in the morning?"

"Yes."

"You're drunk."

"Yes. I come here twice a week to have lemon bars and to watch you. It would be more efficient to watch you make lemon bars."

"Efficient?"

"Mn."

"Why do you watch me?"

The guy gives him a withering look. "Why do you think."

A car rolls by, headlights briefly blinding. Wei Ying lets the guy go, suddenly shy. "I dunno, I'm funny looking?"

The guy glares harder. "You're not funny looking. You look like a flute solo."

"A what?"

"A flute solo. You know."

"I very much don't. Do you play the flute?"

The guy's shoulders sag. "No. No, I don't."

"Hey, don't be sad. I don't either."

"If I did I'd play it for you. Right now."

Wei Ying laughs. "I guess you should come in then. Which is probably a bad idea, but you seem pretty out of it and if you start acting shady I think I could take you."

"I bet you could." The guy goes back to walking running into the window, backing up, and running into it again. "I can't get in," he says, pouting.

"Oh my god, okay. Power off, stay right there, I'll come around and get you."

Wei Ying heads over to unlock the door.

"Oh, he left," comes from behind him, forlorn.

“So that was a shitshow,” Lupe says as she slams the hatchback.

Carson frowns at her and hefts the case on her shoulder. “I wouldn’t call it a shitshow. We didn’t go off the rails.”

“It was a show, and it was shit. A shitshow.”

“Lupe!” Esti is yelling from across the street, chipper in pigtails and platform sandals. She gives them two big thumbs up.

“Oh, great,” Lupe says. “The child is condescending.”

“I think she’s just being nice.”

Jo jogs over to them with an envelope. “Well, it sucked, but the money’s good.”

“See, Jo agrees.” Lupe pokes Carson’s arm. Carson smacks her.

“I didn’t say it was good. We just haven’t found our sound yet.”

Jo snorts. “After six years, we haven’t found our sound. Bright futures, everyone.”

Lupe sighs and counts out her share of the cash. “At least we still get paid.”

“You know what I mean, Jo. We haven’t found our sound . . . you know.”

“A. G.” Jo nods wisely.

Lupe scoffs. “You’re so fucking dramatic.”

“After Greta.”

Carson flinches. “Yeah, we all knew what you meant. You don’t have to keep repeating it.”

Lupe tucks away her cash and picks up her own guitar. “I’m gonna go with Esti and get too drunk to be annoyed.”

“And too drunk to feel that elbow, huh?” Jo snatches her arm and watches her wince. “Yeah, thought we didn’t notice.”

“Go see Jess,” Carson says, brow furrowed. “It’s not just gonna go away.”

“I’m old, you’re old, we’re all old, I get it. Remember when bands used to share a dealer, not a chiropractor?”

Jo wrinkles her nose. “We do share a dealer.”

Carson grabs Lupe’s jacket, makes her look her in the eye. “Go see Jess.”

Lupe shakes her off, then flips her off and crosses the street to Esti. Jo yells after her, “Go see Jess, dumbass!”

--

A great song!

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"How do you know if you're doing the right thing?"

Poe puts down his fork and finishes chewing. Finn does this, sometimes, philosophical questions out of nowhere and they deserve a serious response.

"Like, in general?"

Finn thinks for a moment. "No, like in specific. You've been to a lot of planets, right? A lot of different systems?"

"Sure have."

"And I've been learning, you know, I've been reading about history and about religion and stuff. All that stuff we didn't have when I was growing up. They're all so different, aren't they? So how do you know what's the right thing to do? When you're on a planet you've never been to, how do you know you're not doing something bad."

Poe taps his chin. "Recon, mostly. You check it out, talk to people who've been there, see what the customs are. But you mess up sometimes. One time I tried to shake hands with— well, that's a longer story."

"And that was a bad thing? You did something wrong?"

"I wouldn't say bad. It's more like etiquette. I think being, you know, kind is pretty universal. If you try to be kind, you'll probably be okay."

Finn frowns. "But how do you know?"

"You don't. But if you're trying to be kind, worst comes to worst you'll just come off strange. Nothing wrong with being a little strange, right? Gives everyone something to talk about. Mostly kind and a little strange."