shitty scribbles and such

Requests are Closed (For Now)! Fluff, Smut, AUs, whatever you want, I'll write! Don't be shy, all you gotta do is ask~~ You can call me Scribble, if you like, feel free to reach out for any reason

[exeggcute]

I need a polite and effective way to say "hey your heart is truly in the right place and your anger is often righteous but I think sometimes you’re getting recreationally mad about things that are frankly not worth the amount of energy you’re spending on them, and every time you do this you're driving yourself slightly more insane with nothing to show for it," and then I need a way to broadcast that message through a loudspeaker to roughly 30,000 people at once, and THEN I need a time machine to send that message to my past self lol. and maybe a second time machine in case past me tries to be clever and sabotage the version of me who comes through the first time machine

[magesup]

finding out bokuto has two older sisters has ruined my life and threw off my entire schedule

[scribble-scribble-bitch]

Alone but Never Lonely

Anonymous said:

omg please write some more snafu smut it was so good. Maybe it happens while he still serving in the war? (I love your writing!! Thanks sm)

Did someone ask for some Ragin’ Cajun self-lovin’? No? here it is anyway!!

There are not many moments a man can have to himself here. None, actually, but Snafu still does his damndest to find some. Even if it’s just two minutes, smoking on the edges of the foxhole, watching the sun’s first rays painting the sky red. He’ll take it.

For as much as a man can be alone (that is to say, not at all), there’s even less chance for him to beat off. Yeah, yeah, there’s bigger shit to be worrying about out here, like killing and being killed, whether he’d live to see the sun set that evening, if he’d even get a chance to fill his canteen again. But, c’mon, base instincts. He’s already regressing to a more primal state out here, so might as well focus on the more simplistic shit: living, eating, and getting off.

It’s the middle of the night, and he should be sleeping. He wants to be sleeping. But he’s had the most obnoxious hard-on since he stole a glance at a buddy’s picture of his girl back home. That was around sunset, and it won’t go away. The whole evening was being thankful for losing so much weight in the war, making his trousers baggy enough to hide his little, erm, issue. And now, while he should be taking advantage of the quiet, sleeping like a rock until sunrise, he’s laying there, completely still, trying not to think of anything to make him any harder.

And it is. Not. Working.

Anything is turning into a dirty thought. The call of a bird is warped into the sound of soft moaning, imagining a girl over his hips, hair a tumbling mess around her face. She’s riding him, cherry lips parted, eyes rimmed in charcoal black and staring at him. Begging him to cum, please, cum with her, please please please--

Shit, he has got to get some control over his own mind. Clenches his hands into fists at his sides, stretches them out, and clenches them again, over and over and over, thinking about church and playing pool and the corner store, the milkshakes he loved, and a beautiful girl serving them, lips smacking bubblegum faster than she can even roll her eyes at his advances. She isn’t impressed by his charm, and she tells him where he can stick it when he asks her to meet him in the alleyway. She’s there anyway. Fifteen minutes later, ordering him down on his knees, and he listens. He’s a good solider. She lifts her skirts and he leans his head back, tongue lolling out, letting her position herself over him. She calls him ‘bon rien,’ and he can’t help but agree, even with his mouth full. The smell, good Lord, rich and hot and he’s practically drooling, feeling her thighs tense, the hands in his hair yanking, hard, and he wants to burn this memory into his brain forever.

His hips give a tiny jolt, and he’s back in reality, on the cold, hard earth, teeth clamped down hard on his hand, breath coming in hot pants. His balls downright ache, tight and probably the prettiest shade of periwinkle the good Lord could come up with. He needs to sleep. He needs to not be thinking about this. He shouldn’t be imagining the feeling of sinking his length into a woman, of feeling the walls tense around him, teeth sinking into his neck. The sweat, the pressure, the build, the climax, the primal ferocity of it all, he shouldn’t think about it. His hips cant again. He can’t think about this. About a hand around his shaft, steady and confident. He can’t, but his hips move. Slow, from base to tip and back again. Fuck.

Maddeningly slow, a slight twist in the stroke, just enjoying the sensation of jacking him. One of his hands presses over his pelvis, and he ruts his hips up, ever so slightly. He could cry at the sensation. The friction. Imagines a hand around his shaft, lips at his tip, soft, purposeful. Lapping at his head, driving him closer to an edge, any edge, every edge. He shouldn’t. He can’t, he can’t, he--

His hips jolt, once, just enough, and he stifles a groan with his hand. He’s cumming in his pants like a horny teenager, without even wrapping a hand around himself. In all honesty, he’s almost impressed. There’s the strange feeling in his trousers, warmth and liquid and stickiness already, and he should get up and change. Or...something. Anything. Who knows.

But it’s dark out. And someone might think he’s part of the enemy. And he’s tired now, his whole body is heavy. Besides...he’s already a filthy animal. May as well just...let it be. For the moment.

[scribble-scribble-bitch]

War Never Changes - Snafu

Anonymous said: I’m a little over half way finished with the pacific and oh boy I love snafu already. Could you do a one-shot with snafu, maybe something angsty to start but it end fluffy? Your writing is just awesome friend

War never changes. He’s heard the fucking phrase too many times to count. Worst damn phrase he’s ever known. War always changes. War used to be two morons with rocks and sticks beating the hell out of each other. It used to be bare knuckle brawls and fueled by anger, by territory. A caveman protecting his home, his mate. Now? War was hellfire. The type of shit the preacher tried to scare you with in church. War was guns and flame and bombs dropped on you every which way. War was the itch in your belly that you might not make it through this one, that you’d be the next one in a bag heading for home. That the dirt would stink of your blood next. War was terror. War scared him half to death, even if the rest of the company didn’t think so. He was terrified. War was bile in his mouth and burning smoke in his eyes. Screaming. Always screaming. Usually him screaming. But not now. Never now. Not when he’s sat in dead silence, fingers memorizing every inch of the gun in his hands. Surrounded by darkness. Snafu hated night watch. No, scratch that, Snafu loved night watch. It was Merriel that hated night watch. The man hated it. Silence, pressing darkness, jumping at nothing. Thinking every breath is the man that will kill you, kill your friends. Your family. Only damn family a man could think about here. But Snafu, the monster inside the man, the one that pried teeth from a corpse’s mouth like he was breaking open crawfish shells, he loved it. Thrived on the sick sense of power. The closeness to death. War never changes. Bullshit. He scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to ignore the sting of sweat in his eyes, the burn of dirt in the tiny scratches on his skin. War changed every day, as much as the men that fought them did. You weren’t just born this way. This aggression, this lunacy was built, not born. War never changes. But he supposed, if war had to change, if men had to change, then everything else had to change, too. Home was changing. Travel was changing. Dogs and cats and birds and bees and even television shows were changing. Everything changed. Adapted. Evolved. Like turning from a monkey into a man. (Lord above, his mama hated when he thought about that. He could just about hear her voice now. “We are not monkeys, Merriel, God made human beings just as we are, now put that nonsense out of your head.”) Love changed, too. He thought on it often. Before, love had been whatever dame was dumb enough to tell him yes. A flourish of skirts and skin, tasting sweat and spices and praying her daddy didn’t come home before he could bolt out of there. Love had been a silly concept. A fairytale that his baby sister dreamed of, and he didn’t have the heart to tell her it wasn’t real. But, maybe, just maybe, if war changed…if men changed, and home changed, and all the animals on God’s green earth changed, maybe love changed. Maybe he’d find it, if he made it home. Maybe he’d find it in a nice doll, one with soft hands and a big smile. And she’d smooth the stubborn curls on his head and lay a cool palm on his fevered forehead and tell him that he’d be alright. Maybe she’d make beignets that even his mama would be impressed with, and even in the dead sweat of summer, she’d still smell like honeysuckle. She’d be sweet, but she’d have fire, too, she’d give him a swat on the behind when he went outta line. She’d make him a man again. She’d take away the monster. “Snafu, you fucked up sum’bitch, whatchu grinnin’ for?” Another man was hissing at him, eyes squinted against the darkness. Snafu jerked his head around to stare at him, then shrugged and let a lazy smile cover his dirty face. “Just thinkin’ ‘bout all that Jap gold out there, just waitin’ fo me to find it.” War never changes.

[scribble-scribble-bitch]

Kenny’s King - Part 3

Three days in the same week he’d come back to visit the Night Program. Three days in the same week, he’d made himself look nice, gotten on the subway, gone halfway across the damn city, trekked up endless slushy streets, up the flight of stairs, handed his coat to the same brunette lady, and pretended like he wasn’t making a bee-line straight for the Egypt Exhibit. As if he were there for a reason other than gawking at the beautiful man in white and gold linen, who smelled exactly like cinnamon and secrets.

(Oh. That was good. He’d have to jot that one down to remember for his poetry.)

Apparently, three days in the same week at a museum was a curious thing to put on his credit card. Which is why his parents had called him, confused and a bit annoyed. And why he was currently huddled outside, huddling behind a wall as he listened to his parents bicker in Arabic on the other side of the line.

“We understand once, Khaleel, maybe twice. But three times? And you are there again tonight? What is there that you have to see so much, that you cannot find on the computer?”

Um, the love of my life. “It’s for my history class, Dad.” Lie. “My professor is really impressed with how dedicated I am.” Lie. “I’m learning a lot.” Half-lie. He’d picked up a lot of facts from the tours and just listening to all the actors give their speeches on their time periods and topics. He’d learned surprisingly little about Egypt, though, despite how often he’d listened to the lecture. Turns out his heart pounding in his ears made it hard to focus on any of the actual words coming out of the King’s mouth.

“Besides, I’m...trying to get a job here.” HUGE lie. “I’m actually filling out an application...right now.” Kenny cringed at the waver in his voice, and held his breath, waiting for his parents response.

“Well. That’s fine then. But no more crazy visits for no reason, okay?”

“Yeah, okay Dad. I’ll talk to you later.” He mumbled a goodbye into his phone, then tapped the end button about twelve times, just to be sure the conversation was really and truly over. He didn’t like lying to his parents, but he couldn’t exactly tell them he was there so often because he had a fat crush on an Egyptian pharaoh. They’d agreed to a sort of ‘don’t-talk-about-it’ approach to his sexuality when he was younger, and Kenny couldn’t help but feel his dad thought it was some sort of phase that he’d eventually grow out of.

Jokes on him, he thinks gruffly, I just keep getting gayer.

He scrubs his hands over his face, resisting the urge to dial Larry and complain, and pulls open the heavy door. A rush of warm air and fluorescent lighting makes him blink a few times, waiting for his sight to adjust before he unwraps the scarf around his neck and makes his way for the front desk. His thoughts are already on Ahkmenrah, the roughness in his voice, the way his nose scrunches when he smiles, and he’s so deeply focused that he almost doesn’t notice that the T-rex skeleton animatronic is gone.

Not turned off or anything, just...gone. Like, missing from the pedestal. Kenny has to double-take at the platform before he actually realises that it’s missing, then just stands there gawking at the empty space like a moron for a full minute before footsteps on the marble floor seemed to jolt him back to Normal Human Status.

“Woah, woah, woah, you can’t be in here yet! We haven’t opened the doors for tonight!” Kenny spun around to see a guy about his age striding towards him, hands stiff at his side, practically radiating nerves.

“Oh.” Kenny glanced down at the phone in his hand, and, wow, yeah, he was an hour earlier than he’d meant to be. Foot traffic had been surprisingly light getting to the subway. “Sorry. I...no, sorry, but where’s the dinosaur?”

The kid’s face, already pretty pale, blanched a little bit further. “Uh. The dinosaur is...uh…” Oh, this was gonna be good. He needed an excuse, and he wasn’t finding one. Perfect! A snicker built up in Kenny’s throat, but he was able to bite it back. What lame excuse would he come up with as to how a WHOLE DINOSAUR SKELETON was missing? He didn’t know, but he was excited to find out.

“Nicholas, your father asked me to--oh.” Kenny’s heart jumped to the back of his throat immediately, and the boy turned to face the voice, looking half-relieved. “I am sorry to interrupt, I didn’t know we already had guests. I--oh! I recognize you! You have been here quite a lot this week. Hello again, friend.”

Friend? Kenny wanted to melt into a pile of mush right there on the floor. He thought they were friends?? “Oh, u-uh...yeah, I uh...I wan--well I actu--uh.” The other boy, Nicholas, whipped his head back and stared at Kenny. Curiosity gave way to realization, and then a smug grin. He knew. Kenny shot him a quick glare, a silent argument held between them. I’ll let you off the hook about the damn dinosaur if you keep quiet about my completely obvious crush.

“Actually, he was here about an internship,” Nick broke the silence, turning back to the king and sending him a calm grin. “I was telling him we weren’t accepting Night Program interns at the moment, but he’s just so interested. Maybe you can show him some of the behind-the-scenes stuff before we open?” This little shit was trying to embarrass him! Trying to make him a babbling puddle of mush in front of his crush! What an absolute monster, how the hell could he--

“I’d be more than delighted. Follow me, this way, if you please.” Ahkmenrah smiled and turned with a flutter of his robes, disappearing back down the long hallway he’d come from. Kenny stared after him, then looked at Nick. He grinned and nodded his head after the retreating king.

“Better hurry, he’s used to things happening at his pace.”

Kenny couldn’t even process, just nodded, heart pounding so hard he thought it might break his ribs, and scurried down the hallway, following the scent of oil and spice.

[scribble-scribble-bitch]

UD Headcanon

Im in the middle of writing Kenny’s King (it’s turning out pretty good, I should have it up tomorrow!), but I needed to share this

My headcanon is that Chris is...massive. Like, he’s obvi a tol, but he’s a sturdy boy. He was that gangly awkward skinny mess for a few years in middle school, but by sophmore year of highschool, he was all filled out and lookin handsome

but he’s just...big. He’s got broad shoulders and he’s tall and he’s a pretty solid dude. he’s not like, built or anything, but he’s solid. and people outside of the Squad are surprised by it.

at a party, chris usually sits and chats with friends, all hunched over and wearing seventeen goddamn jackets, while josh roams around and is social and stupid. as the party starts to wind down, chris blossoms some, lets josh coax him out to walk and talk. so he starts to unfold, and he’s TALL. an onlooker is straight up SURPRISED by how tall he actually is.

and then he starts removing his jackets. and his mass doesnt really shrink. He’s just SOLID (i know i keep using that word but idk what else to say).

tldr; Chris is a tol and a big boy and people are surprised

[scribble-scribble-bitch]

Coming Back

I'm back from Holiday and ready to write some more sin! My first thing I'll publish is gonna be another quick chapter of Kenny's King, and then I'll get back to requests! (Also, I made a twitter account where I mostly bitch about my writing and would love to interact with anyone who wants to follow me! It's @ scribble_bitch if anyone is interested, and if not, I'll keep bitching alone~)

[scribble-scribble-bitch]

hi!! im the one who requested holiday hearts and omgggggg it was so so adorable!!! after i read it i was a giggling mess omg it was so cute and perfect! thank you so much for writing these wonderful imagines!

Aw, thank you, I'm so glad you liked it!!! I'm sorry it took me so long, but I'm so glad it made you happy!!!! <3 <3 <3

[scribble-scribble-bitch]

Holiday Hearts

hello! can i request josh x reader fluff? maybe about them admitting their feelings to each other. thank you so much! your fics are so amazing!! (also this is my secret sin blog so thank u for that too :0

hello! i was just wondering if you got the request about a fluffy josh imagine? i was just wondering bc mobile keeps messing up and not sending some of my messages. i love your imagines!

IDK if this was the same angel, but here is some fluffy Josh cuteness, holiday-themed because EGGNOG GDI (also i feel you on secret sin, thats why I wont post a selfie of me on here cuz i dont need this linked back to me in the future laUGHS)

Everything smells like nutmeg and vanilla, and it makes you warm all the way to your toes. Wrapped around your mug of hot cocoa, lazing in front of the fire, hearing Michael Buble’s soft voice swirling through the air, you feel the Holiday Magic in the air. You take another sip, feel the warm chocolate heady on your tongue, the taste of cinnamon and the sharp zing from bourbon mixing and pouring down your throat.

You let your eyes wander around the room, studying all the different people filling the room. The Washington’s are having their annual Holiday Party, meaning the place is packed. Hollywood people, authors and directors, you swear you just saw Zac Efron browsing the bookshelves in the other room. Your friends are all there too, of course, they aren’t ones to miss out on a fun party (or the free booze that comes with it). Emily and Jess are pulling Mike into a million selfies, Sam is helping Beth make vegan cookies in the kitchen, Hannah and Ashley are chatting excitedly about mistletoe and New Years kisses. You realize, after a minute, that you can’t seem to find Josh.

He never misses out on stuff like this, he loves to schmooze and draw attention, loves charming his mom’s friends and making connections with his dad’s contacts. You think, for a second, that you see him, a sliver of dark hair and warm skin sliding around the corner out on the balcony. You begrudginlgly wiggle yourself off the couch, leaving your cozy blanket nest, and pad after the retreating shadow.

It’s cold outside. Not quite snowing, but a little gusty, definitely chilly. You wrap your hands firmly around your still steaming mug, and turn the corner, eyes squeezed almost shut against the breeze. Josh is there, in the shadows, leaning on the balcony with his head bowed against his forearms.

“Josh? Hey, everything okay?” You sound more concerned than you mean too, but you can’t help it. You’ve had a crush on him forever, it’s practically impossible not to adore him. He’s always full of smiles and stupid jokes, and he’s always extra excited around the holidays. Loves to buy everyone gifts and throw tons of parties. He is the self-proclaimed Christmas King, and no one dares threaten his title.

He lifts his head up at the sound of your voice, and throws you a warm grin. Your heart flutters (damn him). “Oh, hey there. Thought you mighta been the ghost of Christmas Past for a second there.” You let out a snort and lean on the railing beside him.

“I’d be Christmas Present, obviously.”

“Well, you are definitely a gift.” Blood rushes to your cheeks and he chuckles, snagging the cup out of your distracted hands and taking a long drink. He shivers as the heat runs through him, and gives you a bright grin. “Taking a quick time out. Whole lotta sights and sounds in there. Makes me jittery.”

“You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I just need some time alone, y’know?”

“Oh.” You straighten up, motion to the house with your head. “Want me to--?”

“Oh, no!” Josh’s voice is a little hurried, and he clears his throat, standing to lean his hip against the balcony with this air of false-calm, “No, you...I want you to stay out here. With me.”

It is unfair how much that makes your stomach flip. Your mouth turns into a dumb grin, and you lean back against the balcony, biting your lip to keep from giggling like a love-sick moron. He does this to you all the time, and it just straight up isn’t fair. You have no idea how he feels, and you’ve always been too much of a chicken to ask. But...maybe now is a good time. This is a romantic setting, right? Hot cocoa and a warm fire inside? Soft music to slow dance to? You should go for it. You have to go for it. You’ll never forgive yourself if you let this opportunity fade away.

“Josh--”

“I’m glad you came tonight.” You turn your head and find him already staring at you, eyes warm and focused on yours. “I mean, I’m glad you’re all here, but...y’know. I’m really glad you came.”

“I always come,” you manage to say, your tongue suddenly thick and dumb. You can feel your heart at the back of your throat.

“And I’m always glad.” He lets out a chuckle, and licks his lips, taking a long pause. “Look, I might be making a shot in the dark here, but I...like you. I really like you. A lot. And Chris is gonna bust my balls for taking this long to tell you, but I just...I wanted the perfect time to say it. To tell you. Gotta have a movie moment to admit to being head-over-heels, am I right?” He’s rambling a little bit, but still somehow the most charming bastard you’ve ever seen in your life.

“Me too,” the words are choked and practically dripping with surprise, but you look at him and smile. “I...really like you, too, Josh.”

A long silence passes between you, but it isn’t awkward. Josh grins at you, then down at his feet, then flips around and leans over the balcony, letting out a long whooping yell. Laughter falls past your lips, and soon the two of you are bowed over the railing, snickering like complete idiots. As it fades away, the two of you share a long glance, and Josh wraps his arms around you, bringing you into a crashing kiss.

He’s warm, so unbelievably warm, and his lips taste like chocolate and peppermint, and you think that, if this were a movie, the snow would start to fall right at this moment, and the two of you would be bathed in the glow of fairy lights, and your leg would lift and the music would swell and it would be the most perfect moment ever. It’s already pretty perfect. His teeth nip at your lip and you sigh into the kiss, hands drifting up and circling his neck, holding your bodies flush together, ignoring the biting cold on the back of your neck.

There’s a loud bang, and you both jump, glancing over to the nearest window. Chris is banging his hand against it, a glass of (very boozy) eggnog in his other hand, and he’s grinning and mouthing words that you can’t understand. Emily is behind him, holding up her cellphone and trying to get a good angle to get a shot of the two of you wrapped together. Beth high-fives Hannah, and it looks like Matt is giving Mike a five dollar bill.

Josh grins, and gives you a long look. “I, uh...think we’re needed back inside.”

“They can wait a minute,” you whisper, and press up into another kiss.

[scribble-scribble-bitch]

I miss you <3

I miss you all too <3 <3 <3 The holidays are kicking my ass and taking all my time (and money sobs)

I miss writing, it’s honestly burning up my blood that i dont have time to write full imagines, but i am getting slow work done!!! I promise I’m not abandoning my adorable angel-sinners

[scribble-scribble-bitch]

Me: don't you think Kenny and Ahk have a weird moment where they both realize their best friends are Jewish men named Larry. Like they just stare at each other and think "this is a weird coincidence we both have the same thing going on this is a little weird." I mean honestly if the person I had a crush on had a friend that was so similar to my best friend? Idk I'd just be a little confused I'd be sort of concerned, like maybe we are each other from an alternate universe. And if you think about it they kind of are. Do you ever think about it? I do.

Friend: scribble please go to bed

[scribble-scribble-bitch]

"imma grab your dick" ok im imagining josh say that in a jenna marbles voice

IM ALUGHING 

YES PERFECT

[scribble-scribble-bitch]

crazy-kid-crazier-world said:Could you do an imagine with Chris from until dawn. And make it like Chris and the reader are both kid of shy, but the group (including hannah an Beth) are playing truth or dare. And the dare is that Chris an you have to do 7 minutes in heaven. You can make it as smutty or non smutty a you’d like. Please?? Thanks :) 

Chris, my gentle son~

You’ve all been drinking hard for a few hours now, locked inside the Washington’s big beach house. This whole weekend had been incredibly fun, sun and salt and friends, not to mention the, erm, sexual tension. Josh, unsubtle as ever, had been trying his damndest to force you and Chris closer together. And it had been…sorta working. You’d shared a few private laughs, lots of pink-cheeked smiles and a few sleepy hugs. And now, the last night here, you can’t help but notice the sly smiles on Josh’s face, glancing between you and Chris every few minutes. A game of truth or dare seemed harmless enough, when it had been suggested. The drinks made your tongue loose, and you’d agreed easily, settling yourself between Sam and Beth. Chris was across the circle, next to Josh, laughing and drinking from a beer bottle. He casts you a quick glance, and his smile broadens. You grin back. Butterflies flutter in your stomach, your cheeks heat up…just a little. The game began innocent enough: truths were usually “who do you have a crush on” and “who was your first kiss” types, innocent enough. Dares were kept to taking shots, kissing each other, and for Jess to go streaking on the beach. Which she did. Happily. But Josh had this…look on his face. And it was starting to spread. First, Beth had been infected. She kept smirking at you, her eyes glimmering just like Josh’s did before he pulled a dumb prank. She nudged you, wordlessly offered you a piece of gum. You took it with a polite nod, popping in your mouth and reveling in the sharp minty zing it shot across your tongue. The infectious Josh-look infected Sam next, while Mike took his dare of recreating a scene from Magic Mike (which was hilarious, and you were happy to see Emily recording the entire thing for future blackmail). She reached over and smoothed down a bit of your hair, fussing with your shirt and straightening the hem, her eyes glimmering shyly under her lashes. “Alright, Christopher,” Josh’s voice cut through the air, and all eyes turned to your gawky blonde crush. “Truth or dare?” “Truth,” he said with a laugh, “No way am I putting myself under your mercy, bro.” “Geez dude…gonna wimp out, just like that? In front of…” he gives you a sidelong glance, then looks back to Chris, “…everyone?” Chris’ cheeks immediately flush red, and he looks at you. You stare back, and his cheeks redden further. “Uh, alright, I…I guess dare, then.” Josh’s mouth spreads into a Joker-esque grin. “Alright, then. 7 Minutes in Heaven. With little Angel Eyes over there.” When you see Josh point to you, you can barely hear everyone’s enthusiastic whoops over the sound of your heart pounding against your ribs. “I mean, you don’t have to, honey,” Sam rests a hand against your shoulder, “we just thought…well…a good way to go for it, y’know?” You and Chris lock eyes, and you can feel all the blood rush to your cheeks. He grins, sharp blue eyes glimmering at you behind his glasses, and stands up, offering you a hand. “Hey, we…might as well give the people what they want, right?” The next few minutes are a dream. You take his hand, feeling your (shaking) fingers in his (sorta sweaty) palm. Together, you walk to a coat closet in the other room, followed by a grinning Josh and a worried, hovering Sam. It isn’t until the door closes behind you, throwing you both into darkness, that your mind catches up with you. Seven Minutes in Heaven is supposed to be about kissing. Kissing Chris. You and Chris kissing. Each other. For seven minutes. In Heaven. Kissing. Chris. Definitely heaven. A light blinks on, and you blink your eyes a few times to adjust to the brightness. Chris is holding his cellphone out, the flashlight app turned on and lighting his face from beneath. His gaze flickers to yours, then away, then back to meet your eyes. “Hey, listen, we…don’t have to…y'know. Don’t worry about Josh, you know how he is. We can just chill. Seven minutes isn’t that long.” He’s against the wall opposite you, obviously trying to give you as much space as possible, even though it’s hard for him to cram his long limbs into such a small space. You wonder if he’s as nervous as you are, if he feels weird about this too, or if he he finds it annoying. “You alright?” You realize you haven’t said anything. Good job self, you think, way to freak him out. “Oh, uh, yeah…sorry.” He gives you a smile, and you feel your stomach twist into knots. “I’m fine, just…” “Yeah, I get it. No pressure. Just gotta hold out for another…5 minutes and 56 seconds.” A laugh rumbles out of his throat, and you can’t help but echo it. You can’t help but feel relaxed and happy around Chris, he has a way of soothing every frazzled nerve, while ruffling up all the right ones. “Hey, Chris?” Your mouth moves before you can stop it. “Yeah?” “I…I mean, if you were up for it, I…wouldn’t mind doing some kissing. That’s the whole purpose of the game, after all, isn’t it?” A long silence hangs between you, and you watch surprise cover his face. “I…oh. Wow, I…” Shit, have you ruined it? Made him uncomfortable? Shit shit shit, how can you fix this? “Yeah. I…hell yeah, if you wanna, I…I’d really like that.” The light on his phone blinks off, and you feel him step closer, still hesitant but at least he’s close now. You close your eyes, breathe in the smell of his clean hair and the salt clinging to his skin. A hand falls on your waist, gentle and quivering slightly. You sense him close, and angle your chin up, raising your lips to nearly meet his, feel the heat between you… And then he’s kissing you. Gentle lips, slightly chapped, the scrape of his insistent 5 o’clock shadow against your cheek. Mint and beer mingling together. It isn’t a pleasant taste, but it’s Chris, and you’re so close, and your heart won’t stop pounding. His other hand cups your cheek, holding you so careful, so delicate, like you were a new game release that he was excited to hold. The thought makes you giggle, and you can’t help but let it escape. Chris stutters and pulls away. You can practically picture the hurt puppy-dog look on his face, and it makes you snort and laugh harder. “Did I…do it wrong?” You stifle your laughter and reach for him, shaking your head. “No, God no, of course not, just…this is the wrong sort of atmosphere for us, don’t you think…?” A short pause, then you can hear Chris snicker, too. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Not our shtick, huh?” “Not even a little bit.” “But…continue later?” “Oh, totally.” You smile, heart beating in your throat. “Need me some more of that awkward glasses kissing.” “Oh my God, you’re so weird!”

[scribble-scribble-bitch]

grabby-hands-for-benedict said:Hello! Would you write about Josh being constantly inappropriate with Chris on public places? :)

I SURE AS SKIPPY WILL!

“Why does it always have to be me helping you out with this crap?” Chris is huffing, arms burning as he holds a wooden plank over his head.

“Cuz Josh is too short, man.” Mike is up on a ladder, biting screws between his teeth while he maneuvers the end of the plank against the wall, eyebrows knit together in concentration.

“Listen, broskis, being short works out in my favor sometimes. Like now, for instance.” Josh, the bastard, is leaning against the opposite wall, watching the other two sweat and struggle to put up the cabinet while he drags lazily on a joint. “Besides,” he puts on a fake Southern drawl, lips curling up into a crazy smile, “I like to watch the new guys sweat.”

“Shut up, Josh,” Chris grumbles, feeling a bead of sweat work its way down his neck and into the collar of his t-shirt. He turns to throw a glance at his older friend, and shifts just enough that it makes Mike bark at him.

“Hey, keep it steady, man! I can’t screw it into the wall if you keep fuckin’ around.”

“Shit, man, sorry,” Chris goes to right it again, focuses in on the task at hand. Tries to ignore Josh’s muffled snickers behind him. Holds the plank as steady as he can despite his muscles aching. Shit, he’s barely doing anything and he’s this exhausted already? Time to start hitting the gym with Matt again...

A vibration runs through his leg, and it makes the blonde jolt, just a little. Mike gives him a sharp glare, and Chris tries to swallow down his instinct to drop the plank and grab the buzzing phone in his pocket. It could be Ashley, texting him about their history project. It could be his mom, with news about his grandpa or something. It could be Sam, in desperate need of someone to fix her computer.

“Josh, man, do me a favor?” He can’t help it. He’s not patient, he needs to know now.

“Sure, dude, what’s up?” Josh’s tone sounds almost serious, and a little excited. He always likes it when Chris asks for help with stuff, makes him feel useful or...something.

“My phone’s buzzing, can you grab it out of my pocket and see what’s up?”

A short silence, Josh’s footsteps coming towards him. A cool, “Sure, bro.” Mischief. Aw shit, what’s he gonna--

Chris feels a hand dive into the back pocket of his jeans, and he lets out a yelp. He’d like to pretend it’s a dignified yelp, but it isn’t. Not even close. He feels breath on the back of his neck, and he can just picture the shit-eating grin on Josh’s lips.

“This pocket, bro? Is it in this one?” The hand squeezes his ass, then leaves and jumps over to his other back pocket. “What about this one?” Squeezes that cheek, too, and Chris all but drops the plank.

“Dude!” he squeaks, overlapping with Mike’s angry shout of, “I will end you, Chris!” He struggles to keep the plank steady, and Josh is laughing as subtly as he can. Which is to say, not very.

“Alright, alright, sorry man. Jesus, take a pill. I’m gettin’ it.” Chris watches Josh’s hand out of the corner of his vision, watches it slowly creep down to his front pocket, slip inside. He feels fingers wrap around his phone, but the hand doesn’t move, just stays still. Josh presses up against Chris’ back, snickering.

“Want a quick tug, Cochise?” It’s barely a whisper, a throaty mumble next to his ear, and Chris feels his face light up. He tries to bat Josh away with his elbow, and nearly drops the plank. Again. Mike yells something angry in Spanish, it sounds vaguely like a threat on his life. Josh slips his hand out of Chris’ pocket, taking the cellphone with him, giggling the entire time.

It wasn’t that Chris didn’t like Josh’s special brand of...erm, attention. It was just that it had been more aggressive as of late, a little harder to ignore. And more public. The rest of their friends never said anything, oddly enough. Must’ve figured it was par for the course, knowing the friendship they had.

Usually, it was tame enough to pass off as a weird joke. Chris would bend over to pick up a notebook he’d dropped, Josh would stand behind him and mime thrusting motions. Before gym class, Chris would take his shirt off in the locker room, and Josh would yell something loud and embarrassing, something like “love me some whtie bread!” (Funny, sure, but really dude, white bread? He’d tried to call him multi-grain in retaliation, but that just...hadn’t worked out.) Everyone was used to Josh’s stupid jokes. It was never something a well-placed ‘no homo’ couldn’t fix.

But lately it had just gotten...different.

March 18th, 3:17 pm

Chris was trying on a sweater at a store in the mall. He slid it over his head, tugging at the soft material a few times til it sat comfortably on his frame. Twisting this way and that, he gave himself a long glance in the mirror, then shrugged. He’d never been good at this stuff. This is why he had to shop with Josh or Emily, he never knew what looked good. On this trip, it was Josh, who had been all too happy to pluck a few (overpriced) sweaters from a display and usher Chris to the fitting rooms to try them on.

The one he was trying now was cozy. A heavy lambswool sweater, the color of moss, and it was ridiculously soft. He liked it well enough, he supposed, but decided to ask a second opinion. He straightened his glasses and unlatched the door, stepping out into the bright hallway to search for Josh. His dark hair popped into view immediately, followed by bright green eyes and a broad smirk.

“What d’you think?” Chris murmured, glancing over Josh’s shoulder for a moment at the cute blonde girl that was refolding merchandise. She gave him a quick glance and smiled. Chris grinned in response, then looked back to Josh. Who was narrowing his eyes ever so slightly.

“No. No, not this one. No way. Can’t buy it.”

“What? Why not?” Chris had thought it looked pretty good...plus it was warm as hell. Huge plus in Chris’ books.

“Cuz it looks too good. I’d just rip it off you the second you put it on.” Josh’s grin bloomed wider, and Chris felt his cheeks burn red. The blonde worker whipped her head up to stare at the pair of them, eyebrows raised so high they may as well have rocketed off her face. Tongue suddenly thick and dumb, he spun on his heel and marched back into the dressing room, Josh’s snickers trailing behind him.

He doesn’t buy the sweater.

April 4th, 10:14 am

One of the mistakes teachers often made was sitting Josh and Chris beside each other. Chris was a good student...mostly. He got in trouble for looking at his phone during class, but otherwise, he was attentive. It was Josh that caused the issues. He cracked jokes, bugged Chris, one time he even tried to make it a point to crawl, on his stomach, across the entire room, unnoticed. Just to pass Emily a note.

Josh mostly liked to focus his attention on Chris. Because Chris could take it. He could absorb the jokes and let them pass. No amount of pencil pokes or passed notes could make him emote large enough to get them in trouble. And Josh loved to push his boundaries.

The assignment was simple: read a chapter of the textbook, write down a few questions or comments, and there would be a class discussion. Josh, as always, had forgotten his book in his car, so he slid a chair over to Chris’ desk to share with him. Normal occurrence. But there was a gleam in his eyes, like he was planning something. He was always planning something.

Chris started to read, pen scratching tiny notes and questions on his open notebook. Josh read a few sentences, then placed a hand on Chris’ knee. The blond looked up, gave him a long stare. A ‘don’t-do-whatever-it-is-you-want-to-do’ stare. Josh smiled, and looked back down to the reading. His hand stayed on Chris’ knee. Chris returned to reading. The hand scooched up his leg, maybe an inch. Neither boy said anything. The hand inched up again. And again.

“Imma grab your dick,” Josh whispered, his hand edging up to lay on Chris’ thigh. Chris jolted his leg up, slamming Josh’s hand (and his knee) against the underside of the desk with a loud bang! Both boys groaned in pain, and the teacher glared at them.

They were sent to the Principal’s office. Josh wouldn’t stop smirking.

December 12th, 12:32 pm

Christmas was just around the corner, and Chris couldn’t wait. He loved Christmas time. Lots of warm sweaters and hot coffee and all the cute people at school bundled up against the Southern California cold? It was, without a doubt, his favorite time of year. Not to mention it meant that the annual Blackwood Mountain trip was only a few months away.

He was walking to his locker with Beth in tow, chatting about plans for the trip, securing transport, what sort of wintertime fun they could have. When they finally got round to his locker, he started to spin the lock on it, putting in his combination. When it popped open, he swung the door open, and was promptly smacked in the face by a piece of felt on a spring.

“Is...that mistletoe?” Beth asked. Chris didn’t even respond, just stared at the green and red hot-glued monstrosity that was stuck against the locker door. Who the hell broke into his locker and stuck mistletoe--? It didn’t make any sense.

“Does that mean we have to kiss?” Beth’s voice brings him back to reality, and he stares down at her, eyes blown wide with shock. Shit. Shit, shit, did she think he set this up? He didn’t, he wasn’t trying to mack on girls at his locker, that would be so dumb. She has her eyebrows knitted together, looking at him with a mixed expression, and he puts his hands up defensively.

“I didn’t do this,” his voice cracks when he says it, and a shiver runs down his back. “I swear I didn’t--”

“Aw, man, you beat me here!” A gravelly voice behind him makes Chris jump, and he whirls around to see a slightly out-of breath Josh. Josh looks between his sister, Chris, and the craft-store hellspawn mistletoe, and lets out a huff. “You tryin’ to kiss my sister, man?”

“No, no no no, I have no--”

“Well, I guess the best idea would be for me to take the fall for her. Y’know. Keep her safe from your wily womanizing ways.” A smirk lights up the sharp edges of his face, and Chris starts to wonder if maybe, somehow, Josh is connected to this whole thing somehow. But there isn’t time to think about that now. Josh is pressing up on his tiptoes and Beth is covering a grin with her hand and Chris does just about the only thing he can do at this point.

He kisses Josh.

[scribble-scribble-bitch]

So I was taking a break from my writing, decided to check some notes on my AO3 fic and some of my random things

and I saw that @tojo-lens liked some of my stuff???

And I?? ScrEAMED!!

He is one of my FAV Until Dawn artists and I’m so flattered that he liked some of my Scribbles?? Im in tears

this is exactly the pick-me-up I needed to get back to writing~

[scribble-scribble-bitch]

How is your computer? All better, I hope? 🙂

It’s fine, thank you! It didn’t get damaged, I just lost a lot of work because I hadn’t saved recently when it shut off, because I’m a moron.........

I’ve been working on all my requests, but my real life keeps getting in the damn way...I’m using today as my Writing Day, so I will put out AT LEAST 2 IMAGINES TODAY! I will not sleep until I’ve published two.

I know I’ve been super behind with the imagines, and I’m really sorry! You guys are all incredibly sweet for staying with me through this, I’m really happy that you guys are still here even though I’m slow with content <3 <3 <3

[suedesatan-deactivated20190609]

Lookin better even if I’m not exactly feeling better yet