The TOS Phone Hell Meme

[somepartsbroken]

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#1: Texts From Last Night
#2: Damn you, Autocorrect
#3: Recipient Misfire
#4: Mix & Match
#5: Wildcard


Option One:
Texts From Last Night
You know the drill: RNG, or pick one that tickles your fancy. Post blank and let others text you about their night, or send out a mass text for anyone to reply to by posting a TFLN when you tag the post.

Option Two:
Damn You Autocorrect
We've all done it. Either sit and wait for other people's mistakes to come to you with a blank tag, or take the bull by the horns and make the first move mistake by posting an autocorrect error when you tag the post.

Option Three:
Recipient Misfire
It's just so easy to hit the wrong name in your phone, isn't it? Embarrassment city! ...But is that better or worse than manually inputting the number incorrectly and texting a complete stranger by mistake?

Option Four:
Mix & Match!
Let autocorrect fuck up the TFLN you're sending to the wrong person. Go nuts!

Option Five:
Do Whatever The Fuck You Want
You know what, if none of these ideas are good enough for you, your ass can come up with something else. I don't even care.

[I stole this shit from Bakerstreet; Pretend the communicator somehow does text. I dont know.]

Comments

[abetterhappyending]

Yes. I have not performed it on any men before and it is not so openly accepted in my time but it seems to be here? Is that true? If so I am interested in it specfically with you. I find you very handsome.

[to_this_end]

It...depends. It's certainly not considered strange or perverse, but it's not something everyone enjoys. Performing, I mean.

And typically not the first thing one suggests doing.]

[abetterhappyending]

The idea feels very naughty and sinful.

[to_this_end]

It has a certain...dirty in the exciting way connotation to it.

[abetterhappyending]

So you feel the same?

[to_this_end]

Well I'm not going to say I don't enjoy oral sex.

You're right, I need a drink for this.

[abetterhappyending]

Find me ;)

[to_this_end]

Where are you?

[abetterhappyending]

In my room and quite alone.

Moving to action!

[to_this_end]

Well, it would be impolite to leave you to drink alone.

[Maybe it isn't the wisest of decisions, but if nothing else, Maria is clearly intoxicated enough that leaving her to her own devices would be a worse decision. It isn't so great a trip to her room, and despite his hesitation, what man denies a beautiful young woman his company if it's requested?

He's at her door shortly.]

[abetterhappyending]

[ He hears her voice from inside calling out "Just a mo--!" when he knocks, and after some more time and silence, Maria cracks open the door and peeks around it, her hair loose and free now; barely glanced behind the door, too, is that she wears a pale robe with lacy fringe, and from inside the room is the sound of a big band singer, a woman, warbling lowly among the brass and strings.

When she sees him she ducks halfway behind her side of the door, where her fingers wrap around the edge, a smile teasing along her mouth -- her cheeks are rosy from the alcohol and she's decidedly more free in her movements and expressions from it. a schoolgirl, again. ]

[to_this_end]

[It isn't a side of Maria he's seen more than a few glimpses and flashes of. Clearing his throat, still flustered, and nods in greeting.]

Ms. Carbonell.

[Though he supposes they're on a first name basis, all things considered.]

[abetterhappyending]

Dr. Rush. [ Maria dips in a curtsy, her fingers tightening on the door briefly to keep from tilting, though it's not nearly as graceful or smooth as it'd be otherwise. Then she smiles at him, cheekily and chin lifted. ] Should I let you in?

[to_this_end]

If you'd like.

[This is unsteady ground. She's been drinking and she isn't entirely herself...but he can't help but note how lovely she looks, in her robe and with her hair unbound.]

You implied my company would be welcome, after all.

[abetterhappyending]

Did I? Hm.

[ But she steps aside and opens the door for him. Aside from the robe, which she hasn't tied closed, she's only in a thin baby blue nightgown with a cut low enough to show the iron-forged cross necklace she always wears; the ends of it and the robe flutter around her ankles as she moves. ]

[to_this_end]

I believe so.

[He enters with another clearing of his throat, trying not let his eyes linger. He's only a man, after all, and Maria's sleepwear is a good deal more revealing than what he's used to seeing her wear.]

Something about a drink?

[abetterhappyending]

Oh! There. On -- on the table.

[ She waves a self-manicured hand over to the low-risen table before the sofa she's set up at; there, an empty wineglass sits on one corner and another with a stained rim from repeated use is on the opposite. Between them is the wine: red, an old year, expensive. A taste developed from years past.

Once the door shuts behind her she sort of just falls back against it, effectively shutting him in with her, unstable on her feet, and she twists a curl of hair around her finger while watching him. ]

[to_this_end]

Thank you.

[He takes a seat on the sofa and looks up at her, pouring himself a glass of wine. He hasn't had wine in a very long time, preferring to drink hard liquor on his own. He notes her leaning against the door and wonders if it's lightheadedness or coquetry.]

Perhaps you'd like to sit down.

[abetterhappyending]

[ For a long moment there's no response. Then, Maria pushes off of the door and weaves her way across the floor to him. She stands in front of him and then leans down, one hand landing heavily on his shoulder and the other carding through and then grasping his hair, and tilts her head into a kiss. ]

[to_this_end]

[It takes him entirely by surprise. Regardless of the racy things said over text messages, he never thought Maria would make any sort of move. Flirt and tease, certainly, but not this.

His hands go to her waist immediately, out of habit and to help steady her. Her lips are warm and soft and sweet and it is with great reluctance that Rush turns his head away.]

Are you certain this is a good idea?

[Because by now it's foolish to try and protest he doesn't want her to kiss him.]

[abetterhappyending]

[ The record skips over to the next track as they part, and so close to his face still her dark eyes are hazy from drunkenness and the sweet sting of it is on her breath. they set straight onto his though; she knows where she is and whom she's speaking to. ] I have waited a very long time for a man who makes me happy, [ she says, slurring on "very."

Suddenly she tilts over, but her fingers clench into his shoulder and she crawls onto the sofa beside him instead, hands and knees first. On her knees facing the couch's back, the robe trailing to the floor, she snuggles her face into the nook of his shoulder and neck, a hand on his chest, whispering, ] It's you. It's you, [ and then after a pause she whispers the lyrics to the song against his neck in time with Ella's voice, ] That same old tingle that I feeeel inside...

[to_this_end]

Oh. Darling...

[His arms go around her and he holds her, cheek against the soft cascade of her hair. He doesn't understand. He's never understood. He can't claim this is the first young woman who has both sought his company and improved it with her own. He can't claim he doesn't have any romantic interest in Maria, either, but he ignores it. Because as before, he's assumed he's too old, too broken, too miserable. And she's from a different time, she has a future, there are so many reasons he shouldn't be here with her right now.

But she makes him happy. He understands what she means. There have been very few true bright lights in the darkness after Gloria, and he was certain they had all passed him by at this point. But here was Maria, in his arms, and it felt painfully right to sit here with her in his arms, listening to Ella Fitzgerald and breathing her scent.]

[abetterhappyending]

[ She rests more limply against him, her eyes shut and lips moving in a muttering of the lyrics, no longer coherent words. "You're the lover, you're the lover, you're the lover..." Ella croons, and soon enough Maria is slumping over, body tilting and head sliding down his chest, slow enough for him to catch, as she's passing out. ]

[to_this_end]

[She's a welcome weight, and Rush eases her down to lay comfortably across him, settling back against the couch. He has nowhere else to be. And when was the last time he sat comfortably with someone he cared for and cared for him in turn like this? It simply felt natural to stay seated, one hand resting on Maria's shoulder, the other holding his glass of wine. He even enjoyed the music she had on.

He could put her to bed, he knows, but he'd rather stay where he is.]

[abetterhappyending]

[ After he's done shifting her (and maybe moving one leg that falls backwards off the couch back up onto it), Maria lies curled on her side with her shoulder squished against his thigh and her hands lying between his stomach and her face. Rush can move her however he likes: her limbs are dead weight and only fall or flop when nudged. Despite whatever trumpets blare in the music, she'll be asleep like this for hours. ]