#and corn hole at another

[littleblondesoprano]

Do kids still have Field Day?? Is that still a thing??

#I used to LOVE Field Day #I think we had it in Elementary and Middle school #I most remember middle school tho #littleblondesoprano #field day #these were not field trips #these were letting you outside in the morning and rotating between ‘stations’ all day #all day outside #could be playing soccer at one #and corn hole at another #some had prizes #like you got a little ribbon for winning #or a trophy

[sea-salted-wolverine]

I know I am a little bit late to this but in Interstellar, the movie about black holes and time travel and ada yada, The inciting event of the movie is that humanity can no longer continue farming mono cultures and we need to leave the planet.

I feel like. There might have been. Maybe. Another option. One that was not mass Exodus. like. Possibly something a lil closer to home. Maybe a bit more complex than plant a corn, plant more corn. But probably less complicated than astrophysics.

#Interstellar

[headspace-hotel]

Nature is healing.

I burned the Meadow a couple weeks ago. At first it looked like nothing but charred ashes and dirt, with a few scorched green patches, and I was afraid I'd done something terrible. But then the sprouts emerged. Tender new leaves swarming the soil.

My brother and I were outside after dark the other day, to see if any lightning bugs would emerge yet. We had been working on digging the pond. That old soggy spot in the middle of the yard that we called "poor drainage," that always splattered mud over our legs when we ran across it as children—it isn't a failed lawn, and it never was.

Oh, we tried to fill in the mud puddles, even rented heavy machinery and graded the whole thing out, but the little wetland still remembered. God bless those indomitable puddles and wetlands and weeds, that in spite of our efforts to flatten out the differences that make each square meter of land unique from another, still declare themselves over and over to be what they are.

So we've been digging a hole. A wide, shallow hole, with an island in the middle.

And steadily, I've been transplanting in vegetation. At school there is a soggy field that sadly is mowed like any old field. The only pools where a frog could lay eggs are tire ruts. From this field I dig up big clumps of rushes and sedges, and nobody pays me any mind when I smuggle them home.

I pulled a little stick of shrubby willow from some cracked pavement near a creek, and planted it nearby. From a ditch on the side of the road beside a corn field, I dug up cattail rhizomes. Everywhere, tiny bits of wilderness, holding on.

I gathered up rotting logs small enough to carry and made a log pile beside the pond. At another corner is a rock pile. I planted some old branches upright in the ground to make a good place for birds and dragonflies to perch.

And there are so many birds! Mourning doves, robins, cardinals and grackles come here in much bigger numbers, and many, many finches and sparrows. I always hear woodpeckers, even a Pileated Woodpecker here and there. A pair of bluebirds lives here. There are three tree swallows, a barn swallow also, tons of chickadees, and there's always six or seven blue jays screaming and making a commotion. And the goldfinches! Yesterday I watched three brilliant yellow males frolic among the tall dandelions. They would hover above the grass and then drop down. One landed on a dandelion stem and it flopped over. There are several bright orange birds too. I think a couple of them are orioles, but there's definitely also a Summer Tanager. There's a pair of Canada Geese that always fly by overhead around the same time in the evening. It's like their daily commute.

The other day, as I watched, I saw a Cooper's Hawk swoop down and carry off a robin. This was horrifying news for the robin individually, but great news for the ecosystem. The food chain can support more links now.

There are two garter snakes instead of one, both of them fat from being good at snaking. I wonder if there will be babies?

But the biggest change this year is the bugs. It's too early for the lightning bugs, but all the same the yard is full of life.

It's like remembering something I didn't know I forgot. Oh. This is how it's supposed to be. I can't glance in any direction without seeing the movement of bugs. Fat crickets and earwigs scuttle underneath my rock piles, wasps flit about and visit the pond's shore, an unbelievable variety of flies and bees visit the flowers, millipedes and centipedes hide under the logs. Butterflies, moths, and beetles big and small are everywhere.

I can't even describe it in terms of individual encounters; they're just everywhere, hopping and fluttering away with every step. There are so many kinds of ants. I sometimes stare really closely at the ground to watch the activities of the ants. Sometimes they are in long lines, with two lanes of ants going back and forth, touching antennae whenever two ants traveling in opposite directions meet. Sometimes I see ants fighting each other, as though ant war is happening. Sometimes the ants are carrying the curled-up bodies of dead ants—their fallen comrades?

My neighbor gave me all of their fallen leaves (twelve bags!) and it turns out that piling leaves on top of a rock and log pile in a wet area summons an unbelievable amount of snails.

I always heard of snails as pests, but I have learned better. Snails move calcium through the food chain. Birds eat snails and use the calcium in their shells to make egg shells. In this way, snails lead to baby birds. I never would have known this if I hadn't set out to learn about snails.

In the golden hour of evening, bugs drift across the sky like golden motes of dust, whirling and dancing together in the grand dramas of their tiny lives. I think about how complicated their worlds are. After interacting with bees and wasps so much for so long, I'm amazed by how intelligent and polite they are. Bumble bees will hover in front of me, swaying side to side, or circle slowly around me several times, clearly perceiving some kind of information...but what? It seems like bees and wasps can figure out if you are a threat, or if you are peaceful, and act accordingly.

I came to a realization about wasps: when they dart at your head so you hear them buzzing close by your ears, they're announcing their presence. The proper response is to freeze and duck down a bit. It seems like wasps can recognize if you're being polite; for what it's worth, I've never been stung by a wasp.

As night falls, bats emerge and start looping and darting around in the sky above. If the yard seems full of bugs in the day, it is nothing compared to the night.

I'm aware that what I'm about to describe, to an entomophobe, sounds like a horror movie: when i walk to the back yard, the trees are audibly crackling and whirring with the activity of insects. Beetles hover among the branches of the trees. When we look up at the sky, moths of all sizes are flying hither and thither across it. A large, very striking white moth flies past low to the ground.

Last year, seeing a moth against the darkening sky was only occasional. Now there's so many of them.

I consider it in my mind:

When roads and houses are built and land is turned over to various human uses, potentially hundreds of native plant species are extirpated from that small area. But all of the Eastern USA has been heavily altered and destroyed.

Some plants come back easily, like wild blackberry, daisy fleabane, and common violets. But many of them do not. Some plants need fire to sprout, some need Bison or large birds to spread them, some need humans to harvest and care for them, some live in habitats that are frequently treated with contempt, some cannot bear to be grazed by cattle, some are suffocated beneath invasive Tall Fescue, Kentucky bluegrass, honeysuckle or Bradford pears, and some don't like being mowed or bushhogged.

Look at the landscape...hundreds and hundreds of acres of suburbs, pastures, corn fields, pavement, mowed verges and edges of roads.

Yes, you see milkweed now and then, a few plants on the edge of the road, but when you consider the total area of space covered by milkweed, it is so little it is nearly negligible. Imagine how many milkweed plants could grow in a single acre that was caretaken for their prosperity—enough to equal fifty roadsides put together!

Then I consider how many bugs are specialists, that can only feed upon a particular plant. Every kind of plant has its own bugs. When plant diversity is replaced by Plant Sameness, the bug population decreases dramatically.

Plant sameness has taken over the world, and the insect apocalypse is a result.

But in this one small spot, nature is healing...

#plants #native plants #native plant gardening #proplifting #sorta #save the bees

[beachbxtchforev]

Stagecoach Diary

your friends had organized the perfect weekend, but you’re forced to share a space with your enemy Drew.

pairing: Drew Starkey x fem!reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings: 18+, smut, oral (fem! receiving), curse words, close proximity trope ish, enemies to lovers, slow burn

country music. the desert. drinks. friends.

you were so excited to experience your first Stagecoach. growing up, your Midwest summers were always accompanied by country radio, so the opportunity to see all of your favorite artists in one place was one you couldn’t pass on. Maddie organized the whole thing; plane tickets, festival passes, and a gorgeous house just outside of the festival grounds.

it was also your first time traveling with your group of friends.

when you guys finally arrived at the airbnb, Maddie explained how she planned the sleeping arrangements. her and Carlacia in one bedroom, Madison and Mariah in another, Chase and Austin sharing, and you in a room by yourself. your single room had a catch, however. Drew, who was sleeping on the air mattress, would need to use the bathroom attached to your room since it was closest to the bonus area that was being makeshifted into a bedroom for him.

while you wouldn’t think this would be a big deal, it was.

you and Drew were not friends. you could probably be classified as acquaintances, mutuals maybe, but definitely not friends. and you really don’t know why you guys aren’t close. when you were first introduced to the friend group, he smiled, introduced himself and then acted as if you didn’t exist. you deemed him as rude and childish, wondering what you did in five minutes to push him away.

so, it became mutual. neither of you communicated and you made an awkward tension for the rest of the group.

“y/n is that okay? I know it’s not ideal but it was the best house available for the weekend” Maddie reasoned with you, treading lightly to test out your feelings regarding the living situation.

“yes, totally fine! Drew and I are adults, we can share a space for the weekend” you said, convincing her that you were brushing off your differences for the time being. which was partially true, as long as you didn’t really have to interact, it wasn’t a problem.

you roll your bag to your room, eager to start getting ready since it’s Friday morning, tonight being the first of the festival.

Maddie hired a glam team for the girls, so really all you needed was to put together an outfit. researching Stagecoach beforehand, you noticed it was a major fashion event among influencers and celebrities. you have a small following just from being associated with the cast, so you know you had to do it big.

you opted for a sheer tie front tank, lace midi skirt, chunky belt, and boots. given that the festival is multiple days, you can really experiment with different styles.

thankfully, the girls and guys had separated for this part of the process, so you and Drew weren’t running into any problems regarding sharing the bathroom. the boys moved to the backyard of the house, getting their drinking started early and playing corn hole while you girls gathered in the living room with the professionals.

after doing some professional photos out back and inside, it was time for the group to head to the festival. you were tipsy from the pregame, swaying and singing on your walk over, hand in hand with Maddie and Carlacia. the group laughed and giggled at you guys, taking some candid photos and videos that you know are bound to make it in the photo dump.

you guys had VIP passes, but stopped frequently to talk with fans, get drinks, and make sure the group was still together. finally, Morgan Wallen came onto main stage and had you singing and dancing your little heart out. what you didn’t notice in your drunken moments was the fact that Drew couldn’t keep his eyes off of you all night. the way you moved your arms to reach for one of the girls, the way your hips swayed when you danced, especially because of your cheeky bottoms. he became infatuated by you, the way he always had been.

the show was over and you guys made your way back to the house. you had sobered up a lot by now and were ready to get in the shower to wash the day’s dirt off of you. walking into your bedroom, you gather your things for a hot shower. you didn’t realize that the bathroom door didn’t close all of the way when you stripped to get under the water.

the mix of the warmth and pressure instantly relaxed you as the water pelted your sore body. so relaxed that behind the noise of the water running, you couldn’t hear Drew knocking on your bedroom door and ultimately letting himself in when you didn’t answer.

you also didn’t notice that he caught a glimpse of you behind the clear glass wall of the shower through the crack in the bathroom door. he couldn’t tear his eyes away, even if he tried. you were lathering soap on your body, running your hands over your chest and down your arms. he could feel himself growing in his pants at the sight of your simple movements, and it wasn’t until he dropped his shampoo on the ground that you noticed his presence.

“Drew?” you gasped, “how long have yo-“

“sorry! sorry, I-“ he quickly put his head down, trying to grab the bottle off the floor, flustered.

he finally picked up his things, about to turn and leave when he hears your voice, “wait!”

he doesn’t know where to look when he turns back around, awkwardly acknowledging the fact that you just caught him staring at you naked and he’s fully clothed.

“you can get in if you want to shower. I haven’t even touched my hair yet and I will probably take forev-“ you start rambling, but notice he has now stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. you watch closely as he begins to remove his clothes, biting your lip when he starts to reveal himself.

you don’t know what you were thinking when you offered to let him in the shower with you, but you were enjoying the view. when he steps out of his jeans, you see his cock for the first time and wonder if you have ever seen one prettier than his. it’s hard, and long, probably due to the fact that he has been looking at your boobs for the last five minutes and imaging the rest of your wet body.

you make room for him when he steps into the stall. “hi” you say sheepishly, as it comes out in a whisper. it felt like if you used your full voice it would pull you out of the moment.

he grins down at you, instantly relieving you of any awkwardness that could be happening. his eyes scan down your body, “you’re so beautiful y/n,” he murmurs as he bring his hand up to caress your face, “and motherfuckin’ sexy too” he adds.

you giggle, shocked to hear he feels this way about you. you nuzzle your head into his palm that’s attached to your cheek, taking a step closer to him so that your nipples are grazing his abdomen. the contact makes your take a sharp inhale. you’re so wet just at his simple actions, hoping he makes a move.

his thumb swipes back and forth, tracing your cheekbone before moving over your lips. you can’t help but open your mouth, running your tongue over it and sucking.

he groans, “shit baby, you’re playing with fire,” his words making you clench your thighs as your tongue swirls around the pad of his finger.

you release it from your mouth, “and what’re you gonna do about it, Starkey?”

his response is clear when his mouth comes down on yours, teeth slightly clashing, tongues fighting for dominance. all of your built up tension coming out in a kiss. you moan into his mouth as he brings his left hand to your chest, keeping the right locked around your jaw. he pulls away as his fingers tweak your nipple, “this okay baby?” he asks to which your fiercely nod your head.

“I need words sweetheart,”

“y-yes, please. more.” you moan out.

he chuckles, “good girl” then returns his lips to your neck. you feel his tongue meet the junction between your neck and shoulder before moving lower. replacing his hand, his lips close around your left bud. sucking and nibbling, getting another moan from you before moving to the right side. your hands grip his hair, trying to keep yourself upright while letting the pleasure takeover.

his lips move lower as he gets onto his knees in front of you. ghosting over your bellybutton, he grips your right calf and swings your leg over his shoulder.

“such a pretty pussy y/n,” he says, eyes quickly glancing up to meet yours, “so wet for me baby”

“yes, all for you Drew” you respond. breathless and he hasn’t even touched you yet.

“I’m gonna taste you, okay?”

“yes, yes! please” your hand in his now wet hair pushes him toward you, waiting to feel his mouth on you.

he licks a stripe over your slit, before his tongue rubs circles against your clit. the noises coming from you encourage him to wrap his lips around your bud and suck. you swear your knees might give out.

he moves his tongue to your hole, thrusting it in in a quick motion. you let out a scream, hoping the whole house doesn’t realize what you two are doing. your back is now pushed against the glass, cold feeling good against your hot skin as he tongue fucks you. “Drew! I’m gonna cum!” you breath out.

“cum on my tongue baby, let go,” he responds ready to catch your release. your whole body jolts as the band in your lower belly snaps, gushing onto his face.

“if I would have known this is how it was going to go, I would have walked in on you a lot sooner”

-

let me know what you think! 🤍✨

#drew starkey #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe obx #rafe outerbanks #rafe smut #outer banks #rafe cameron edits #rafe fanfiction #rafe fic #drew starkey smut

[notquitecanon]

Call Me... // Matt Murdock x Reader

Summary: You're the Devil of Hell's Kitchen's favorite late night nurse, but he's been avoiding your fire escape since an unfortunate accident. You both miss each other just enough for some emotions to slip through the cracks. You don't even know his name, but you'll settle just to know he's alright.

TW: blood, canon typical injuries, kind of hurt comfort, Matt's a self sabotaging martyr as usual, kinda sunshine!reader??? maybe if you squint

Bolded line is from a prompts list from several months ago so I lost the link. If it's yours let me know and I'll link it!

"I haven’t seen you in weeks… I’m worried you’re in another dumpster somewhere. Just call me back…please?" You whispered harshly into the phone’s receiver, burner cell jammed between your ear and shoulder as you fumbled with your keys. 

It was true. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen hadn’t graced your apartment in weeks after three months of near nightly visits. At first it was serious stuff, stab wounds and splinted bones. It took two weeks for him to crack a joke. But once that stone cold exterior cracked, it was shattered. He was kind, sweet even. Every few visits, he’d bring by supplies to replenish your kit and, usually, with a bottle of wine in the bag.  Emergencies turned to what he called ‘urgencies’- wounds just barely deep enough to justify stitches and dislocated joints. Which then turned into stopping by at the end of his nights for a ‘check up’, where he took advantage of your central heating, warm beverages, and warmer presence. Then, some Yakuza jackass appeared on your doorstep three weeks ago, fortunately your devil hadn’t been far behind. He took care of him, and you figured the thug, now minus fifteen teeth, would have a hard time telling anyone where to find you. Nevertheless, you found the ‘available apartments’ section of the newspaper taped to your seventh floor window. That had been the last night ’the devil’ had paid you a visit. 

"Anyways… I guess I'm asking for a sign of life? Something? Please? Bye." You pleaded, voice kinder this time as you managed to finally unlock the door and slip inside. Locking the knob, deadbolt, chain, and newly installed jam that had been mysteriously delivered not too long ago. With a huff, you discarded your keys, and bag in the entry way before delving deeper into your dark apartment, flicking lights on as you went. 

"You really need to start locking your windows." A deep voice sounded as you rounded the corned into your living room. Heart jumping to your throat and stomach dropping, you let out a yelp as instinct took over. The familiarity of the voice didn’t register as adrenaline flooded your system. 

"SHIT!" You shrieked, flinching backwards so fast that the hallway runner rug caught under your feet, sending you careening into the wall. Without thinking, you put the Yankee’s starting pitcher to shame as you pitched your phone at light speed towards the voice. Of course, the shadow effortlessly caught it.

"Shit!" The intruder mirrored at your fall, and it was then that you realized who it was. As you collected yourself a slew of curses slipped out, looking into the dim living room to find the Devil of Hell’s kitchen slowly rising off the couch, he was already sans black shirt and mask, "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you." 

"Yeah, well, mission failed." You muttered, pressing a hand to your chest as if that would still your pounding heart. Slowly, you finished your shuffled into the living room, flicking on the overheads as you went. "Shit, you could have called. Sit back down."  

You could have used the heads up, the gash across his chest looked serious, and not in the cute excuse to see each other way ’serious’ had meant last month. He breathed a sarcastic laugh, tossing your phone back to you before producing a shattered burner cell with a… bullet hole?

"You have a funny way of saving my skin when I least expect it." He tried a cheeky smile. You rolled your eyes, picking up your pace as you retrieved your first aid kit from under your kitchen sink, "Consider this a sign of life?" 

"A sign of barely alive, more like." You answered, rounding back around the couch to sit across from him. Harshly pulling on a pair of rubber gloves and splaying out an array of supplies both his lap and yours. "You’re unbelievable. Almost a month of no contact and then you just appear and leak blood on my couch." 

"I’m sorry." He breathed, face angled to where your knees now touched. You rolled your eyes, ripping into a packet of gauze and setting to work dabbing the blood. And he sounded sorry, pitiful even, looked it to. His unseeing eyes stared straight past you and yet somehow straight through you at the same time, mouth settled in a puppy like frown. He told you once that he was catholic, and you now wandered if that’s why he was so good at looking guilty.  

"If it wasn’t for the newspapers, I would have thought you were dead." You drove your point home, with a small voice, too angry to be a whisper and yet too concerned to be a hiss. The evidence of his activities was written across his bare torso in older cuts, new and fading bruises, and a couple of bandages that he’d obviously applied himself, "And you’ve obviously been busy." 

"Figured out how the Yakuza found you. Handled it. Didn’t want to lead anyone else back here." His explanation was strained, pushed through gritted teeth as you applied antiseptic to the largest, freshest gash. You cooed small apologies, irritated as you were with the vigilante, you hated being the source of his pain. You picked up a suture kit, quickly threading the needle. 

"Well, as far as excuses go, that’s not the worst." You muttered, half joking and half touched he’d go through this for you. You’d known he was a walking martyr from the moment you’d met him, but still. He’d taken the beatings so you’d sleep safe. 

That was something else, "Lean back, gotta stitch you up." 

He complied as you stood, using your shoulder to nudge the floor lamp so the light was better for you. Even then, you position on the coffee table wasn't cutting it as leaning forward cast a shadow over his chest. Neither was kneeling in front of him, as the gash was too far up his chest for your position to be adequate. You muttered a quick apology as you flitted around him, trying to find the best place to plant yourself. Beside him on the couch might work, but you’d be straining to hold yourself up at that angle and keep your hands steady. 

Bloody-knuckled hands found your waist with amazing precision for a blind man, easily lifting you and placing you over one thigh after he spread his legs a bit wider. He held you steady, angling his eyes to the ceiling to give you the broadest view of his chest. One of your knees pressed into the couch cushion between his legs and the other pressed into the outside of his thigh, caging the his black-clad thigh between your own like a seat. If your weight bothered him, he gave no indication. He did however turn his ear ever so slightly towards you and smirk ever so devilishly, "How’s that?" 

"Very convenient, thanks." You forced your voice to be flat instead of the breathlessness you felt. Stupid charming vigilante. To his credit, it gave you the perfect access without blocking the light. And if you got to feel ever twitch of his insanely muscular thigh between yours? Added benefit. The devil, even bruised and bleeding, was insanely warm and smelled like something out of a terribly sinful romance novel. The manly small of musk and sweat should have been revolting, but the way it mixed with a fading aftershave would have been distracting if you weren’t so focused on the drip of crimson down his toned abdomen. Before your train of thought could derail again, you gave a quiet warning watching your patient steel himself before you began running the needle and thread through the torn skin.  Other than an initial hiss and the clenching of his fists against your waist, he went silent as you worked. 

The two of you sat in an almost tense silence. He could feel how close your face was to his chest, the waves of breaths washing over his skin, the smell of shampoo in your hair faint enough to know you’d put off washing it, the sound of your heartbeat slowing back down after he’d gotten you excited, the slight sound of your teeth worrying the inside of your lip. He knew he shouldn't be here, Claire could have patched him up, probably would have if he asked really nicely. He probably could have if he really tried, but he’d just missed you. Between Fisk and the Hand and the law firm… everything was messy. You were still simple and sweet and far more caring than he thought he deserved, a balm just to be near you. 

"Could you talk to me?" He asked, so quietly you almost missed it in your focus. You tied off another knot, seeing him wince. 

"Hmm?" You hummed, pausing to look up from the half stitched wound. His eyes lowered to your face, his clenched hands at your waist loosening to rub the fabric of your shirt between his fingers. You always wore such soft things, he wondered if you’d be so soft underneath. You took opportunity in the pause to wipe some of the blood from his skin. 

"I’ve missed your voice, even if you want to yell at me or be upset with me, just let me hear it." His voice was like a prayer, so sincere it made you shift on his leg. What was in the holy water at his church? 

"I’m not going to yell at you, honey. I’m not going to kick a man when he’s stabbed." You shook your head, rearranging yourself to get that optimal view again, grazing a gloved finger over a purple bruise on his ribs, "Besides, someone beat me to it." 

He chuckled at the lame joke, leaning his head back against the back of the couch again as you began stitching once more. Instead of scolding him, you caught him up on all the details and minor drama that he’d missed over the last few weeks. The funny things and annoyances from work, things your family had sent you, what your friends had been up to, your opinion on current happenings in the city. He listened to you like it was the most interesting thing he’d heard all year, chiming in with questions and quips of his own. You’d missed his voice too, not that you’d boost his ego by telling him that. 

"There." You finally finished, tying the last stitch and taping a bandage over it. The vigilante under you didn’t make a move to leave, instead his hands kept you still on his lap. You breathed a laugh, moving on to everything else. You removed the old bandages, giving half healed wounds a thorough cleaning. You applied comical Disney bandaids to the more minor cuts on his hands and were even brazen enough to kiss his split knuckles. The vigilante seemed to preen under you attention as you cleaned and applied Vaseline to his busted lip. As if it was too good to be true, his lip twitched downwards as his eye brows furrowed. His face angled away from yours, his unseeing eyes falling on the window he’d come through. 

"You know, the burner phone's been broken for two weeks now. Took the bullet not too long after the yakuza paid you a visit. Couldn't bring myself to throw it away, a little piece of you." He admitted, a pitiful smile twitched up before pulling downward again. He groaned, starting to shift you off his lap, “I shouldn’t be here, it’s not right.”

You allowed yourself to fall to the cushion beside him, but snatched the black shirt away from him before he could make a move for it. He’d been too busy letting his hands linger on your waist. 

“Why not?” You asked sternly, tucking the shirt behind your back as if the vigilante in front of you couldn't probably drop you six ways to Tuesday if he wanted to. Not that he could ever consider raising a hand to you, “You got hurt, I patch you up. Seems right to me.” 

The devil tensed, first leaning away and then leaning really close. His freshly bandaged fingers tapped your knee as if to emphasize his point, “I don’t deserve this kindness. And even if I did, if I could, if I was good, I would stop coming here so you could live in peace.” 

You were a silent for a moment, wanting to make sure your response was exactly how you wanted it to come across.  

“The third time you fell through my window, you told me that if I ever wanted to be left alone, all I’d need to do was change the candle I keep by the window.” You recounted his words. You hadn’t known about his senses at the time, he was still cryptic and mysterious. But you’d never changed the candle, buying new ones of the same scent when it would burn out, “You warned me what might happen. You gave me an out, one that I continuously chose to ignore. You did everything in your power to protect me when that choice had consequences. That was good, because you are good. And good people deserve kindness. You put too much on yourself, honey.”  

As you spoke, you laid your hand over his on your knee, giving it a slight squeeze to convey your own point. The crimefighter listened to your voice, your heartbeat, the quickness of your breath, finding no deceit and even if he didn’t believe you words, it was nice to hear them. Your kindness washed over him, letting him relax for just a second before he shook his head, laughing sarcastically to deflect the dangerously sappy emotions you stirred. You called him honey like it was his name, and part of him wondered that if you knew his name if you would still call him honey. 

“You barely know me, sweetheart.” 

His own nickname slipped out by accident, usually just something he called you in his head when he allowed fantasies about telling you everything, coming home to you as the vigilante and the lawyer, seeing just how far your good grace could take him. His lips quirked up in time with the uptick of your pulse and the way your breath caught for a moment. 

“I know enough to know you deserve some good.” You whispered earnestly, reaching up to graze the Star Wars bandaid you’d stuck across his the cut on his cheekbone. Almost instinctively, he leaned into the touch. You smiled softly, maybe you’d both missed each other a bit. The combined concern for the other and the time between his last visit making you both a little sappy, or at least more honest about it, So, you breathed a laugh, making another lame joke just to earn one of those chuckles you loved so much, “Besides, I know you well enough to have your blood on my hands.” 

But he didn’t laugh, instead, he pulled his face from your palm, his own bandaged hands taking your bloodied gloved hands in his own. Gently, he pressed your hands together, your loose fists creating almost heart like shape as he pressed reverent kisses to each bloody hand. The vigilante was kind always, flirty and joking, occasionally flirtations bordering on something else. But this? This was different, it was new. Intimate. You’d almost feel like a voyeur for watching the scene if it you weren’t playing a starring role. Your mind flashed to those romance novels you’d thought of earlier, this put all of them to shame. So much so that your hands started trembling against his lips. 

He held them tighter, but not in a constrictive, cage like way. More in a ‘let me hold you together’ kind of way before gently peeling the dirty gloves off and, again, kissing your clean hands underneath. His face angled to yours, nothing but sincerity lacing his features. 

"You know my blood better than my own heart does.” 

“God…” You whispered, letting your head fall against his shoulder, your nose nudging his collarbone and your eye lashes fluttering against his neck. His stubbled cheek fell to the crown of your head.  You cleared your throat again, "I know your blood, but not your name. For someone I care so much about, that’s kind of sad.” 

It was the first time you’d ever admitted it out loud in such certain words. The vigilante ran gentle hands up and down your arms, silent as a million thoughts went through his head. You heart was racing, not from lying, but in anticipation. Despite your racing pulse, you seemed almost totally at ease with you skin against his, one of your hands pressed to a bandage on his ribs and the other holding purchase at the waistline of his black pants. Nothing sexual, just the perfect place for your soft hand to land.   

Despite the million thoughts, he really had two options. Keep his secret, and keep you at an arms length, to keep things sweet and simple and not too deep. Or. Let you in a little deeper, he'd swim oceans to keep you afloat. Enjoy your sweetness, even if things were complicated. He kept still, holding you as gently as you had touched him, a promise to himself that he could be gentle and soft, just as he could be lethal and ruthless.  Two sides of a balanced scale.  

Your heart had slowed down again, the soothing motion of his hands on your arm lulling you. You had been worried about his response. You’re confession had gotten too real, you were worried he’d jump out the window and disappear again. And you’d be left with nothing but bloody gloves and the thought that maybe you’d just imagined the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. 

"Matt.” His voice was quiet, just barely above a whisper, “You can call me Matt. Just don’t stop calling me."

#matt murdock x reader #Daredevil x reader #matt murdock x you #daredevil x you #daredevil x female reader #matt murdock x y/n

[olderthannetfic]

I just saw a fanfic tagged 'corn with plot'.

Corn. Corn.

I just finished posting a story where a man gets fucked by both his sons at the same time in the same hole. I read a story yesterday where a woman hired another woman to rape her son while she watched. I found out about AO3 when I was looking for Thorki.

You can say porn. I promise, "the algo" won't fail to promote you, the c#ns0rs won't get you, you can say porn. I know this because not only have I done it, I've seen things on AO3 much, much more involved than *checks notes* two consenting adults fucking after getting married.

Gen Z, I am trying with all my power not to buy into generation war bullshit. I do my best not to snipe at people younger than me. But if you can't say the word porn on an archive full of porn, are you sure you're ready to write it, let alone post it? If you can't even say the word porn to a website - which is not capable of judging you - in the privacy of your own room, are you even old enough to be posting it?

I was 10 when I found out what porn was. I thought it was gross. I could still say the word.

Please raise yourself up to the level of a 10 year old, or get off the internet.

--

It could be autocorrect though.

[bisexualiteaa]

Sugar, Oh Honey Honey

AN: OKAY HEAR ME OUT! HEAR ME OUT! I was scrolling through here and stumbled this wonderful gif posted by @the-casual-cat of Barry Sloane and it got me and @expirednukacola thinking…what if that scene, but with Cooper or Hancock? 👀 I started with Hancock, but if y’all would like, I will absolutely do a version with Cooper next! Hope y’all enjoy!

CW: FLUFF! Slight OOC Hancock, established relationship, slight deviation from the game, cursing, kissing, make out, slight suggestive theme, implied seggs, briefly proofread, possible spelling/grammar errors.

The gif in question 😮‍💨🥵🤤

You and Hancock were off exploring the commonwealth, out to gather some supplies for your next trip and maybe some goods to sell in trade for ammo and chems. It was a rather successful trip, didn’t stumble across anything too crazy, but you gathered enough food, stimpacks, ammo, and other useful items to bring with you to keep you stocked when the time came that you would both hit the road again. As the sun began to set along the wastes, you looked to the sky, feeling the damp humidity hang within the air as dark clouds started to accumulate in the sky. A radstorm was coming, and coming quick with the way the wind started to pick up. Unfortunately that meant your return to Goodneighbor for the night would likely be too dangerous. So instead, you both set on the look out for a place with a good roof, or as good as they get anymore anyway, and not holed up by any raiders. You both did the best you could to try and find something as fast as you could, but unfortunately you couldn’t quite beat the rain before it began to drizzle. Hancock offered you his signature tri-corn hat to keep your head and your hair protected from the harsh, radiated rain water. You smiled, accepting his offer and placing it on your head, thanking him for it as you both continued your search.

“Ya look pretty cute like that, sunshine. Might just have to let you steal it from me more often” he complimented, almost unable to take his eyes off of you, making you giggle softly. It had been a while since the last time he really got to spend any quality time with you, so he couldn’t help himself in the way he drank you in like the tallest glass of water this side of the desert. He was snapped from his thoughts when you stopped in place, finally stumbling across a house that looked like it would be sturdy enough to hold out in as the storm passed. One that had a nice roof that wasn’t too terribly beat up compared to the rest, had no fire or light of any kind coming from it to indicate anyone was using it for shelter. It was perfect, just what you both had been looking for. You grabbed his hand before quickly leading him inside the house.

There was a routine you both had when you scavenge places for supplies and find somewhere to hole up for the night out in the commonwealth. You would both split up, one person inspecting one half of the house, and one person taking the other. Inspecting every room, behind every door, every nook and cranny you could think of to ensure there were no traps, and no people here that would be angry to find unknowing trespassers. Once the house was thoroughly swept to ensure there was no threat, you made your way into the kitchen. A taller, yellow box resting on the counter caught your eye. You gasped excitedly, finding it to be a well intact box of your favorite cereal from before the bombs fell. Sugar Bombs, ironically enough. “Holy shit! I didn’t know there were any of these that were still around!” You said in shock, picking up the box to inspect it. You knew it was well past its sell by date by now, but in that moment the state of the actual contents inside didn’t matter to you, seeing the box was enough to bring you back to that nostalgic place of a time before the war. Hancock was still off in another room, collecting what things he could manage to find before he heard you, wondering what it was you were going on about. “What’d you find that’s got you so excited, sunshine?” Hancock asked, genuinely curious as he came back into the kitchen, seeing a box clutched in your hands. “Only my favorite cereal of ALL time!” You said, smiling excitedly as you turned around to face him, holding out the box of cereal to show him what you had been so ecstatic about. He loved the way that some of the smallest things brought you joy, even in hard times like these. In the wasteland there wasn’t much to be happy about, between the awful creatures and people trying to kill and maim you around every corner, to the stifling heat and radiation ready to bake you the moment you stepped outside. Not much made people happy to be alive anymore. It was nice to see you find happiness in something, and he had to admit, the fact that it was over something as simple and small as a box of your once favorite cereal, was even cuter. He couldn’t help the smile that stretched to his thin, irradiated lips as you looked so overjoyed.

“Sugar Bombs! 100% of your daily value of sugar” you quoted the slogan everyone knew, from the box and the commercials they used to advertise on TV about them. “These things were the shit back then. Best way to get a shit ton of sugar in your diet to start the morning off right” you said through a laugh, recalling some good memories of spending weekends and mornings before school on the couch enjoying a bowl as you watched whatever was on the TV at the time. How you would happily kick your feet with every bite. “Did you ever try them, John?” You asked him, genuinely curious but he was far too entertained by the way that the box was still clutched in your hand like you’d found a long lost treasure. “Yeah, I tried ‘em once. I remember them being stale but it was the only thing around I could get my hands on” he said with a chuckle. “I used to eat the fuck out of these as a kid. Good and stale. Not sure I’d do the same now but it’s at least cool to see and reminisce on” you said. He loved learning new things about you, especially about your past. He always felt like he talked too much about himself and his own past, so it was nice to get bits and pieces of yours now and again. It’s why he loved moments like this where it was just the two of you, it felt almost intimate in a way. “Yeah, they’re good and all but…I’m already lookin’ at 100% of my daily value of sugar right here” Hancock said with a sly grin, making a bashful blush rise to your cheeks before you smiled. “Speaking of, that reminds me…” he spoke, slipping his arms around your waist to pull you close to him as you still held onto the box of cereal in one hand. You smiled up at him dreamily, charmed by his smooth moves and charming words as he looked down at you, absolutely love struck. He adored the sight of you in his hat, he really did need to lend it to you more often, but more so than that, he adored being here with you. “I haven’t had my daily value of sugar from you yet. What’dya say we fix that?” He asked, his low, gravelly tone dipping even lower at the prospect of his question.

You bit your lip as you looked up at him, a soft giggle escaping you before looping your arms around his neck. His free hand came to rest on your cheek gently as he leaned in, pulling you to him and into a sweet kiss. You smiled and hummed into it in delight, always loving the feel of his rough skin against your own, the way just a kiss from him could ignite a fire in your core. Your body acted on pure instinct and need, as your free hand moved to rest just beneath his jaw, both of you doing all you could to keep the other close. When you had time alone like this, distance was the last thing you wanted between you. Soon your once soft and innocent kiss took a more intimate turn. Your hand slid down from his jaw, gently cascading down the front of his frilly white undershirt before looping around his waist, pulling him against you to effectively rid of any space standing between you. If there was one thing he loved about you that made you different from most, was that you were a woman who made it known what she wanted. He was honored to know that in this moment, and in all other moments down the road, that he was what you wanted. That out of all the people who populate the surface, it was him you chose. He’ll never truly understand why or what you see, but it made him happy and he considered himself a lucky ghoul nonetheless. You felt his larger hands begin to do the same to you, one resting on your back, keeping you to him, and the other trailing down your side before pulling you against him by the fabric of your shirt. There was need laced in the kiss, evident by the way your hands roamed each other’s bodies. It was heated, passionate, and something you normally didn’t get to share outside of the safety of his room at the old state house. Out here, there was a sort of thrill to it. You both smiled into your deepened kiss as you dropped the box of cereal to the ground, in favor of allowing your hands to properly roam underneath the fabric of his red coat. Hancock tapped the back of your thigh, a signal that he wanted to pick you up. As he did, his hands rested on your ass, holding you up before placing you down on the kitchen counter behind you without breaking the kiss. It was skillful almost, and you were always surprised by his strength, how he lifted you so effortlessly as if you weighed nothing in his hands. The position you were now in made it quite evident where the night was going to be leading, but you certainly didn’t mind. A night of passion with Hancock was always wonderful, and he couldn’t be happier that it was with the woman he loved most in this wasteland existence.

#fallout #fallout x reader #cooper howard #asks #john hancock x reader smut #john hancock x reader #john hancock #fallout 4 companions #fallout 4 #gif #barry sloane

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

A Single Grain

Part 1 (ft. Riddle and Silver) I Part 2 (ft. Trey and Kalim) I Part 3 (ft. Jade and Lilia) I Part 4 (ft. Deuce and Jamil) I Part 5 (ft. Malleus and Ruggie) | Part 6 (ft. Cater and Rook) | Part 7 (ft. Sebek and Floyd) | Part 8 (ft. Ace and Idia) | Part 9 (ft. Leona and Epel) | Part 10 (ft. Jack and Vil) | Bonus (ft. Grim)

In which Gordon Ramsay-kun is isekai’d into Twisted Wonderland. Part Food Wars, part Hell’s Kitchen, all Master Chef—Night Raven College isn’t ready to take on this Michelin Star celebrity!!

An octopus concerned with sales and a robot that only recently gained a heart… They’re Gordon Ramsay’s final hurdles to instill a respect for food and cooking in the NRC boys!

Finally, FINALLY I'm done with this shitpost of a series 🤡

Imagine this...

“Gordon-san~”

The master chef shuddered to look up from his station, knowing exactly what was awaiting him. That sickeningly coy, dulcet purr could only belong to a certain sleazy student--but as the instructor, Gordon had an obligation to answer his call. Groaning, a fuck me on the tip of his tongue, he met Azul head-on.

The boy had sidled up, a red-colored clump of risotto in his hands and his lips arranged into an all-too-familiar grin. He had taken care to tuck as much of his silvery hair under a chef's cap, and there was not so much as a stain upon his jacket.

Pristine, just as he wished to be perceived as.

“Is this amount of filling appropriate for the croquettes?” Azul presented his rice ball, indicating the mound of cheese and herbs in the center.

“Yes, it’s fine.”

The blunt response thrown out, Gordon returned to his mise en place—chopping the vegetables for a fried rice. It was clean, precise work. Chop, chop, chop, then the medley of colors tossed into their own bowls. Orange carrots, green broccoli, yellow corn, pink shrimp.

“Gordon-san.”

A twinge of annoyance.

He set down his knife. “What is it now?”

“What do you think of the shape?” Azul had completely formed the sphere, which fit in his palm. The insides were covered up by more rice. “Too large, and it won’t fry thoroughly in the oil. Too little, and it will surely burn.”

Gordon eyed it with a grunt. “It works. Throw it in some breadcrumbs and get to cooking.”

“Certainly, sir!”

Azul retreated.

Gordon sighed.

Peace, he knew, was short lived. A minute or so later, his too-eager pupil began once more.

“Gordon-san, I’d like your opinion on the color,” Azul called. He spooned his rice croquettes from a frying pan. They were a crisp, golden crimson-brown, still sizzling with heat.

"It looks exactly like the photo from the recipe book.”

"Thank you! I’m honored to receive your praise." Azul beamed smugly as he deposited the balls onto a plate. "Now then! What do you make of selling these as an appetizer? I do believe 1500 madol for three is a fair price for the cost of ingredients and labor."

Gordon threw his arms up. "This is the fifth time today, Ashengrotto. Are you going to keep asking me for feedback on your lounge’s menu plans like this?!"

Azul drew back with a gasp, feigning offense. “I’m making small talk! Is it so wrong to try and get to know one’s teacher—who just so happens to be a well-traveled, skilled chef with incredible business acumen?”

The stare Gordon retaliated with could have burned holes into mountains. Azul held his gaze and lightly scoffed.

“From one restauranteur to another… Why, I’d be a fool to pass up this opportunity!! You cannot fault a student for wishing to make the most of your wisdom.”

“… Get back to work. This class is for making food, not for cooking up business strategies.” He squinted at Azul’s croquettes. “And this time, try making your own filling.”

“What? My own…?” The octopus pushed his glasses up.

“You’ve already demonstrated you can reproduce the original dish without a problem. This is your chance to get creative with whatever’s in the pantry.” Gordon cocked a brow. “You can do it, can’t you?”

“Of course I can. What do you take me for, an amateur?”

Gordon's senses were as sharp as the blade of his knife.

He didn’t miss the slight stutter in Azul’s voice, a chink in his armor. It was a small glimpse of that unconfident part of himself that the octopus so often shunted away.

He may have grown up in a restaurant, but maybe he hasn’t had much experience cooking himself? Might explain why he clings so closely to what’s written down.

“Ashengrotto—”

“If you’ll excuse me,” Azul declared a little louder than he would have liked. “I will be certain to present you with a uniquely delicious filling of my own creation—no, three!”

He fell in line beside a small student in visors, the cut of his clothes blockier and studier than his own. It was of an unnatural origin--manmade, meant to imitate a chef--but the ensemble fit him perfectly.

The young boy flipped a hamburger patty juicy with grease into the air--and it fell in a narrow arc, landing atop a mound of rice. A sunny side egg followed, its golden center wobbling upon impact. With a sprinkle of finely sliced scallions, the dish was done.

He smiled, showing sharp teeth. "Recipe complete. Now proceeding to the judging stage!"

"Already?!" Gordon cried, jaw dropping. "The rice alone should have taken 30 minutes. Everything else is about 15 minutes. Bit fast to be finished now."

"You don't need to worry! My Cooking Gear is outfitted with various tools to help expedite the process."

"You and Idia-san have truly outdone yourselves with this new gear," Azul gushed. "It's quite efficient."

He passed a subtle glance at Ortho's towering hat. Azul had witnessed it pop open earlier, revealing a hidden rice cooking chamber. While the main starch had steamed, Ortho had worked on his other preparations.

"Hehe. Thank you, Azul Ashengrotto-san! I'm sure Nii-san will be pleased to hear about these promising preliminary results."

"Well... You technically didn't use magic for this, so I'll let it go."

"Yay~ That's one step closer to clearing this mission!! All that's left is the tasting."

Gordon, bewildered, watched as the platter of loco moco floated itself over to him. It was a technological marvel of Ortho's own design.

"Please dig it! I have recreated the recipe to 99.9% accuracy, right down to the original chef's technique, so I am confident that it tastes good."

Gordon blinked as he carefully accepted the plate from the air. Prodding a fork into the yolk, it burst and ran down the hamburger and rice in thick, fatty rivulets.

He hesitated in bringing a bite to his mouth.

"Hm? Is something the matter?" Ortho paused. "Oh, if it isn't to your liking, let me know and I can adjust the seasoning to suit your personal preferences. The Cooking Gear may be for everyday kitchen use, but it is also capable of analyzing flavor profiles and generating optimal variants if prompted with a base recipe."

"It's not that. I just don't think I've ever had a class go this smoothly.” Rice drenched in luxurious yolk fell onto Gordon’s tongue. “Usually there's some problem. Students that lack discipline or focus, need extra instruction, have no respect for the recipes or kitchen safety..."

"Wah, it sounds like you've been through some tough times, Gordon Ramsay-san... It seems there is much more to being a chef than just producing dishes."

“You’re right about that, my darling. There’s still a lot for you to learn—things that fancy Cooking Gear can’t teach you, like how to deal with insufferable donkeys and idiot sandwiches.”

“… I’m afraid I don’t compute.”

"Oh, you poor, unfortunate soul," Azul cut in, warbling in agreement. "Why, I've experienced the very same! You wouldn't believe how combative Floyd can be when he's not in the mood for cooking and we have a line of hungry customers lining up.

"Running an eatery is but a team effort, wouldn't you say? As teacher and students,m sharing the same kitchen, we should place more trust in one another."

Not this again.

“There’s truth to what you’re saying, but I get the feeling you’re leading into another business idea,” Gordon grumbled. “And this isn’t the time for that.”

“We can include Ortho-san in our conversation if you’re concerned. It would be wonderful to have the perspective of an underclassman.”

“You want the free child labor,” Gordon guessed.

“Volunteer work,” Azul countered. “It would look good on a resume.”

“If it’s running a simulation of projected sales or something of the like, I’ve got you!”

“No, no, DON’T ‘get’ him!!”

“Aww, but it sounded interesting.”

"Listen here." Gordon set down his fork and set his sights upon his students. "What you have is a good basis, a solid grasp of the fundamentals and how to read a recipe. We can build off of that, but it doesn't have to mean setting up a restaurant or making combinations a computer came up with. Food can be many other things.

"Food is what grounds us, giving us nutrition and energy so that we may survive. Food is an art form, feeding our souls and imaginations. Food is to socialize, shared among friends and family to make memories. Food is a skill, technical and taught. Food is connection and culture, rich with love and history."

And he, tasked with it. Preparing, serving.

That knowledge, Gordon realized, was like rice. A single grain of rice can become an entire field, flushed gold with opportunity. It was grown, harvested, given back to the earth... and the cycle began anew, feeding and nourishing countless.

He nodded resolutely. "Let's cultivate not only your cooking abilities, but also your appreciation for food as a whole."

"... My, my. Spoken like a true Master Chef!" A slow smirk found its way onto Azul's face. "I could ask for no better instructor."

"Azul Ashengrotto-san is right!" Ortho chimed in. "We're so lucky to have a teacher like you to guiding us."

Gordon found his own mouth quirking as he wiped it.

These boys, his rising stars, grains of rice with potential yet to be realized.

"Alright, that's enough of paying lip service. Ashengrotto, your new filling. Shroud, let's see you do the same with your own take on loco moco."

"Yes, Chef!"

#twisted wonderland #twst #Azul Ashengrotto #Ortho Shroud #twst imagines #twisted wonderland imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland scenarios #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #imagine this #beyond the looking glass #twst headcanons #twisted wonderland headcanons #Gordon Ramsay #Gordon Ramsay ib Twisted Wonderland

[pedge-stuff]

strawberry margs (pedro pascal x gn/m!reader)

a/n: same vague universe as “marked,“ per usual, yada yada.

happy belated labor day, y'all! tip your servers and thank your union reps.

(my union is on strike rn and, while it is ass, I'm very grateful for the people who are working hard to secure a better future for all of us. wga strong!)

summary: a totally normal labor day cookout with no big announcements whatsoever.

—————————————————————————

"Hey!" Pedro is slightly out of breath, flushed from the cocktail and the dry heat. Sometime in the fifteen minutes he's been gone inside the house, a tiny sombrero-on-a-headband has made its way onto his head. 

He plants a kiss on your temple, slinging an arm over your shoulder; the man gets a little possessive, after a couple drinks, but not in an unpleasant way. There's a pitcher of pre-mixed margaritas on the picnic table, and only a thin finger of the same drink left in his plastic cup. You squeeze the hand that now rests on your right shoulder. 

"Are you having fun?" 

Truthfully, yes. Parties usually aren't your vibe, and you'd been nervous about this one, for some reason. Had expressed as much to him, beforehand.

Oscar and Elvira usually host in the summer, the little patio attached to their apartment far surpassing anyone else’s outdoor space in the city. No reason at all to be nervous— you were just here, for the 4th of July, alone, kindly invited while Pedro was still filming in Morocco. (And oh, how the summer had changed.) Had been here almost every weekend since then, while things were shut down. 

But, this was the first party since… well. Since you’d put a ring on it, so-to-speak. 

The social etiquette of the whole thing has you flummoxed. Are you supposed to tell people? Is that annoying? Do you just not say anything? Wait for them to notice? Take the rings off and break up so you don’t have to do this at all? 

Ultimately, these are Pedro’s friends, so it’s been Pedro’s call. Not that you communicated that to him. Which might have been a mistake. Regardless, you’re deferring to him, despite the pit of stupid anxiety it left in your stomach leading up to the party. 

Not that you’re not proud of the ring, either. You couldn’t be fucking happier. Social anxiety is a tricky thing, apparently. (You might have way, way overthought all of this.) 

“Yeah,” you smile at Pedro, shaking cobwebs of shitty thoughts from your brain. “Yeah, this is lovely.” 

Another kiss, this one soft on your lips. He tastes a little fruity, some kinda flavored syrup in the margaritas. You’d accidentally opted for an IPA that tastes like ass, so you’re just carrying around the can as a prop. His fingers are sticky from something, you discover, as he licks them clean.

The arm around your shoulder steers you towards the long picnic table, around which most of the party is gathered: the hosts, and a few extended family members you’ve definitely been introduced to, before. Sarah is here, with Holland, which is a nice surprise. The kids are deep into a game of corn hole, in the small grassy area. 

You settle at the table, folding chair pulled flush against Pedro’s. A large hand palms above your knee, exposed below the inseam of your shorts. The sun is warm on your skin, fingers wet from the condensation of the can you’re pretending to nurse.  

“— the AMPTP doesn’t know what they’re talking about,” Holland is saying, from where you’ve entered the conversation. 

Oscar’s brother, whose name you should know by now, laughs. “Been four months now, though,” he shrugs. “You think someone would’ve budged by now, but—“ 

"Woah, woah." From his perch on his wife's lap, Oscar points, looking scandalized. “What the fuck is that!" 

Pointing, unexpectedly, at the ring on your finger. 

"Uh." Pedro's looks sheepish. 

"You're joking!" A hand dramatically clutches his heart, while Oscar swoons against Elvira. "I'm wounded. Sarah, did you know about this?" 

Across the table, she raises a glass, mockingly. "I picked out the ring." 

"That's not true—" Pedro begins to protest. 

"—Sorry, I forced him to make a fucking decision because he'd been agonizing over three options for like a month." 

Pedro shrugs. "I wanted it to be perfect," he says sheepishly, "sue me!" 

"No, no, backup," Oscar says. "I don't care about the rings. I can't believe you didn't tell me!" 

"I can," Elvira offers, "you've got a big mouth." 

He groans. "It's not like it was a secret!" 

Loud interruptions from across the table. "It was absolutely a secret, that's the whole point!" 

Oscar throws a hand up. "You already act like you're married, is anyone surprised about this?" 

"You were surprised." 

"I was surprised you didn't tell me! Wounded, frankly. Irredeemably. To the core." 

"Are you done?" Sarah rolls her eyes, squeezing Pedro's shoulder affectionately. "About damn time, but we're happy for you." 

She gestures at Oscar. “Yeah, yeah, we’re happy for you.” 

“With feeling this time.” 

“Guys,” Pedro interjects, “I wasn’t keeping anything from you. It happened two days ago!” 

He launches into the tale, eggplants and double-rings and all. The hand stays planted on your knee, and you take advantage, laying yours on top to thumb over the band on his ring finger. Someone tops Pedro off, and you reach for a sip— strawberry, you determine, is the marg syrup. You’re not really listening, but you lean back, content to watch him retell the story. 

The next time he kisses you, as the sun sets into the Brooklyn skyline, you taste like strawberries, too. 

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal one shot #pedro pascal rpf #pedro pascal x male reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fluff #the last of us #joel miller #din djarin #javier pena #narcos #the mandalorian #joel miller x reader #din djarin x reader #javier pena x reader

[phoenixsbby]

can you write something with Hangman where y/n is pregnant and she’s at a Dagger Squad dinner and she received some comments about how big her belly is compared to the other women, so she refused the chocolate cake dessert and Hangman follows her after the dinner in the kitchen, seeing her crying and stuff ?

thank you for the request :')

warnings: mentions of body size/weight, swearing

——

You’ve been eyeing that chocolate cake since the minute you arrived at the barbeque your husband, Lieutenant Jake Seresin, had been invited to. It was huge and looked moist and mouth watering and you could only partially blame the pregnancy hormones for wanting to shove the entire thing in your mouth with your bare hands. You’ve waited patiently though instead of giving into your chaotic, intrusive thoughts. 

You’ve gone through the motions of talking with all of your husbands colleagues, you’ve spent time playing yard games with different members of the Dagger Squad (you totally didn’t get too excited and caused a scene when you and Rooster beat Bob and Phoenix in corn hole), and you ate your fair share of dinner.

And when it’s finally time for dessert, you do not hesitate in stepping up and grabbing a big piece of that beautiful cake. You see no shame in it, wanting to eat dessert. Not only because your pregnant and rightfully deserve to treat your baby to this homemade masterpiece but also, because if someone wants to eat some cake then who gives a fuck?

The piece of cake you have dangling at the threshold of your mouth freezes mid air when you make direct eye contact with one of your least favorite pilots you’ve had the (dis)pleasure of knowing since Jake had been stationed in North Island. Cobra.

You hold eye contact for a beat of silence, still with your cake hovering, and watch as he raises his eyebrows and dips his gaze down to your body. You can feel the judgement rolling off of him, in the way he’s staring at you when your eyes reconnect. 

Without taking a bite of the cake that’s been teasing you all night, you place your fork back down on your plate.

“Can I help you?” You try to keep your tone sweet but there’s no missing the rigidity behind it. You completely stopped caring about being polite to this guy pretty quickly after hearing about the multiple sexist “jokes” and negative comments about other pilots he’s made in the past. You’re not a pilot yourself but, you’ve heard enough stories from Jake about Cobra to how shitty of a teammate (and person) he is.

“No, I just ..” Cobra purses his lips and shakes his head. You roll your eyes so hard, you’re surprised they don’t fall out of your head.

“Just what?”

“You really think you should be eating that?” He tilts his head ever so slightly to the side as he says it and you’ve never been a violent person but suddenly, you’re ready to swing.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, come on Y/N.” He grins and your blood turns from lukewarm to boiling hot inside your veins. He takes a step closer to which you react by taking one backwards. He dips his head close and adds, “We both know you’ve gained a some weight recently. You don’t see any other females here shoving cake in their mouths, do you?” 

You haven’t told anyone that you’re pregnant other than your husband. It’s still early and it’s been a busy, stressful time at work for Jake so, you both agreed to push off telling everyone for now. And yes, during the time since you found out, your body has changed which is completely healthy and natural when you’re growing another human inside you! But the fact that Cobra doesn’t even know that and is still commenting on your weight, it makes you sick.

You want to scream and yell at him, to tell him off, to ask him where he gets the nerve to talk to anyone about their body but, all you do is blink. Your eyes instinctually flicker around the other women at the party. The other wives and girlfriends and pilots at the party are all beautiful and fit in their own right. Suddenly, despite knowing your body is doing its natural thing to support you during this stage in your life, you feel inferior to them in every way.

“Sorry to be so up front about it.” Cobra adds. Sorry my ass. “But, I think I’m doing you a favor. Maybe switch the cake out for some fruit or something.”

You glance down at the cake on your plate, the once delicious dessert looks about as appetizing as a pile of dirt and worms now. 

An arm wraps itself around your shoulders and pulls you into a firm body. You glance up and see Coyote looking at you with furrowed brows. 

“You okay?” He discreetly wipes a tear off of your cheek that you didn’t even know fell. Despite the answer being no, you nod weakly. 

“I need to use the bathroom.” You croak out before shoving your plate in Coyote’s direction and making a beeline for the house. Faintly as you walk away, you hear Coyote throw a ‘what the hell did you do?’ at Cobra. But, you don’t care enough to stop or listen to the ways Cobra will spin this so he’s the victim. All you care about is getting away from these people to cry your eyes out and try your best to not make a scene at your husbands work party.

You don’t find the bathroom, instead you find a small secondary pantry in the back of the house to have a mini break down in. You slump against the wall and finally let all of the tears you can feel prickling at your dry eyes fall. 

You feel like you’re being ripped in half. One half of you, the arguably more reasonable half, knows there is nothing to be ashamed of. Everyone’s body is unique. Some bodies are small, some are big, they all change under different circumstances. Body size does not determine a persons worth. Nothing gives someone the right to comment on another persons body the way Cobra did yours. The only person who should feel ashamed here is him.

Yet the other half of you lets his words stick to your skin like glue until they seep through many, many layers of yourself, until you can feel them festering inside of you. Maybe you could be making better eating choices? Maybe you should be eating more fruit? You don’t know because this is your first pregnancy and its hard to be a mother! But, you’re trying your absolute best to figure it out. Shouldn’t that count for something?

You’re outright sobbing when you feel arms encase your body and pull you flush against a hard, warm chest. One hand cradles your head while the other rubs soothing circles against your back. One deep inhale of a spicy and sweet familiar scent is all you need to know who’s holding you - Jake.

“What’s going on?” He murmurs into your hair, voice laced with concern as he squeezes you tightly against him. He knows what’s going on, Coyote came and found him the minute Cobra told him what he had said to you. Despite Cobra trying to play it off like it wasn’t a big deal, Coyote could see right through the bullshit. 

Jake had two options; hit the fucker that thought it was okay to comment on his wife’s body or find his wife who he knew needed him in that moment. It was a no brainer (okay, he did consider hitting Cobra for a hot second), he had to find you. 

“I-“ you try to explain it  but, the words collide with a sob that’s already lodged in your throat. 

“Take some deep breaths.” You feel him inhale a deep breath of his own, hold it, then release an equally long exhale. “Come on, baby.” He inhales another, prompting you to follow along.

The first few breaths you take are jagged and short, some leave you gasping for more air. But after continued encouragement from Jake, eventually your breathing returns to a somewhat rhythmic state. Your heart no longer feels like its jackhammering its way out of your ribcage, your thoughts about your body and being a good mother are no longer stirring up a storm in your mind. You feel calm there, in that pantry, wrapped up in your loving husbands embrace.

“There she is.” He smiles, soft and sweet, as you pull away from him just enough to see his face. He wipes away the lingering wetness of tears on your cheeks before leaving his hands there to cup them.

“I feel-“ you struggle again to find words to accuracy describe this feeling. You settle on motioning the shape of a balloon with your hands and take another shaky, deep breath.

“Whatever that snake said to you out there, it’s not even remotely close to the truth.” Jake tilts his head and rubs his thumbs gently across your skin. 

“Isn’t it? I mean, I have put on some weight.” 

“Because you’re pregnant, Y/N.”

“But, we’ve all seen those women who stay in such good shape when they’re pregnant like you can’t even tell they’re pregnant until the day before they pop that baby out! And all they drink is kale smoothies and their favorite midnight snack is baby carrots. They definitely do not eat chocolate cake!”

“Y/N,” Jake tilts your head up away from your belly to look him directly in the eye. “Everyone’s body is different. And I happen to think yours is amazing.” You scoff and try to look away but, he holds your eyes to his. “Whether you gain or lose weight, if you grow a foot or shrink a foot, I will always think your body is amazing. Not only because you’re growing our baby in there,” he places a hand on your lower stomach “but also because it’s yours. You are so beautiful.”

You melt into his touch and rest your forehead against his. You have no idea what you did to get so lucky in loving a man like this, one of the good ones. He kisses you slowly, letting every ounce of his love translate from his lips directly to yours. 

You groan the second your lips break apart and slump into his hold. You feel his laugh vibrate against your chest as he holds you up.

‘What is it?”

“I can’t believe I let that dickhead talk me into not eating that cake. I bet it’s all gone by now.” You pout into his chest before he puts his hands on your forearms and pulls you off of him. You narrow your eyes at the way he’s smirking at you.

Wordlessly, he reaches behind you and by the time he’s fully back in your field of vision, he’s holding your plate with the same piece of cake on it from before. You gasp and smile, so bright and contagious and Hangman can’t believe he gets to witness something that gorgeous. 

“Oh, I love you! I love you, I love you, I love you.” You squeal as you take the plate from his hands and don’t hesitate in sticking a forkful of cake into your mouth. You moan and let your eyes flutter shut at the gooey goodness of it. “You’re the best.”

“Don’t I know it.” Jake chuckles as his thumb swipes away a crumb from the corner of your mouth.

“Uhhhh … I was talking to the cake.”

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake 'hangman' seresin x reader #hangman x reader #hangman fanfiction #jake 'hangman' seresin fanfiction #top gun: maverick #top gun: maverick fanfiction #jake 'hangman' seresin #hangman blurb

[ashensgrotto]

A Merfolk's Melody (Part 1)

Characters: Yan!Floyd x Reader, Yan!Jade x Reader, Yan!Azul x Reader

Word Count: 13.5k

Intro (You are Here)      Floyd Leech       Jade Leech     Azul Ashengrotto Epilogue

Synopsis: The sea always calls to those who feel lost and alone, wanting to fill the empty part of their soul until they are loved and full… and as such, it’s only fair that the strange creatures that live beneath it’s depths would want the same as well…

Author’s Note: Another 4-part fanfiction courtesy of @merakiui ‘s headcannnons of the reader being stuck in a room/wall (I’m sorry) -> https://www.tumblr.com/merakiui/722393818829373440/in-addition-to-being-stuck-in-a-locked-room?source=share & https://www.tumblr.com/merakiui/722677892623056896/about-the-stuck-in-a-wall-trope-in-the-oceani?source=share

Here’s how it’s going to work: each character is going to get their own part following the intro. It is going to focus on the Octrio again (bc it’s my current liking, sorry guys). If you want to read a certain character’s part, feel free to jump around and select the one you’re most interested in. 

Again, as stated before, this is a work of fiction; I disagree with any and all behaviors that are represented in this story.

***

The sound of the waves crashing against the rocky surface was a sound that you had familiarized yourself with when you were a child. It and the call of the seagulls and other sea birds that brought forth fond memories of your childhood; images of your loving parents as they strolled along the beachside near the rocky terrain with you and your siblings following behind like little ducklings as they pointed out smooth pebbles and speckled shells, the shouts when your siblings pulled each other into the water before the tide overcame them like a dowsing rain shower, the laughter that followed in the evening before a roaring fire in the pit that cooked fish and crab along with corn and potatoes and marshmallows for dessert.

Yes, this was a child's paradise once upon a time and the sea had been there for every stumble you took, every laugh that bubbled from your lips… every tear that stained your cheek.

The sea always calls to those who feel lost and alone, wanting to fill the empty part of their soul until they are loved and full - and you needed a hole that existed in your heart to be filled with memories of the sea, wanting the salty water and the cries of gulls to wash away the pain and heartache you felt inside you.

You had returned to your family's sea cabin after several long years of being away in the city, moving away at the end of your high school year to attend college. The city was vastly different from the coastal residence you had lived in for eighteen years; there was no comfort or beauty or peace - it was loud and haze-filled and distorted. The people that lived there were rude and constantly in a hurry, bustling from place to place like work ants moving to and from the nest. There were a few that you had made friends with - their smiles and conversations always bringing forth those fond memories of your childhood - and there was one that you had loved and had loved you in return.

Sadly though, he was no longer in the picture - and the reason behind your return to the coast.

The two of you had met during orientation of your freshman year of college and had become fast friends. He introduced you to a lot of people and places, taking you by the hand and pulling you along the busy streets of the city - pointing out landmarks and museums, parks and local hot spots. It was all so overwhelming, causing your head to spin - but you always laughed at his energetic nature and wild behavior, a true sea captain in your eyes. He would take you on tours through the local zoo and art galleries, treat you to ice cream or coffee at the local shops, and talk to you about life in general during lunch breaks and help you with your exams and vice versa. 

It was during your last year in school that you both started dating - the confession coming out over a school get together with a group of your friends at one of the local clubs, when the drinks were filled and music pounded through your body as you danced with your crush til the moon was high overhead. As you traveled together back toward the dorms, his hand clasped in yours with fingers entwined, he pressed his headon top of yours as you leaned into him to feel the warmth of his body as the chill of autumn surrounded you. He whispered that he liked you more than a friend and asked if you saw him as the same - he wouldn’t care if you did or didn’t, but he needed to know if there was anyone else that was important in your life.

 You couldn’t have been happier that he felt the same as you did at that moment.

But of course, as the sea covers the shoreline, it always drags the unsuspecting sea creature back into its depths.

The first and second year as a couple was perfectly blissful - you both continued to make time for each other and walked along your usual paths during college and moved into an apartment together after graduation. You still visited the museums and galleries, got coffee, and talked about work and a future together on walks through the parks after your day’s busy schedule. Shortly into the third year as a couple, nearly six since you met each other, the appearance of another shimied into your life. It was at a new year’s celebration with a group of college friends that you were introduced to this new girl. She was the sister of a friend that was visiting for a week while touring colleges in the area, brought along by the friend so you could talk to her about your experiences at the college you had once attended together. 

At first it seemed harmless, the eighteen-turning-nineteen was interested in what your field of study was, what the professors were like, how the dorms worked, what sort of clubs and sports were available to participate in - all questions a typical freshman-to-be would ask. However, what made you uncomfortable about the whole situation was the way she kept grabbing at your partner - leaning against him and whispering things in his ear, making him laugh with hers joining in as a chorus, her fingers slipping into his hand and squeezing his like they were a couple and you were the outsider. You attempted to sneak in and wrap your arm around him, but was swatted away like a pesky mosquito by her on more than one occasion; you shifted your eyes to look at your boyfriend, arching a brow to indicate he do something or at least say something that told her that he was taken already. 

Not once did he say anything, nor did he do anything.

At the end of the night, as the two of you walked back to the apartment, he attempted to wrap his arm around you. Too hurt, you shrugged him off, making him stop and ask what was wrong. You argued with him that night - a huge fight that caused you to seek shelter at a coworker’s apartment instead of wanting to deal with the situation - needing space to cool off and rethink about how to approach the subject. When you came back in the morning to make amends, you found him embracing another woman - the same girl that had clung to him the night before. Fury and pain ripped through your heart like a storm crashing against the waves of the rocky surface - the cry that echoed through your throat rivaled the call of gulls as tears sprung like raindrops on the corners of your eyes. 

It was enough noise to pull the sleeping couple from their dreamscape - your boyfriend springing upright, tugging on the sheets and distancing himself from the girl, who had sulked to the corner of the room, picking her clothing up off the ground and making her way hastily out of the room and the apartment. As much as your boyfriend tried to explain, you wanted to hear none of it - the roaring pain of your heart enough to drown out the noise of a thunderstorm as you gathered your things from the apartment, shaking your head with every plea and shrugging off every touch. You left your shared apartment, heading toward your coworkers’ apartment and explained what happened; she took pity on you, allowing you to stay so you could figure out what needed to happen next.

Your boss permitted you a week-long vacation.

“Get some rest, focus on yourself right now,” they said, pushing a box of tissues toward you, “You’re a good worker and a hard one at that. I’d hate to let you go over something so trivial.”

When you requested a bit more time, your boss agreed to two weeks - wanting you to get the proper care you so desperately needed, but wanting you to work all the same.

Which is how you found yourself back on the coast with the sea, gulls, and assorted creatures both of land and sea as your only companions. The cabin your family had once stayed in was smaller than you thought - enough room for only a set of adults and two children. Why did you think there were more that filled this room once upon a time? Were ther other children that lived in other cabins that lined the coast that often gathered here to spend time with you and you had once believed them to be siblings - even though you were an only child? Photos that still lived in corners of the rooms of the cabin indicated a happy family; a mother, a father, and a daughter - you. There were no other photos that indicated that there were other children, nor anyone that lived nearby with children your age to play with. 

Were they all just imaginary friends you had conjured in your head to allow your lonely broken heart to feel whole like how the sea filled your spirit? Even if that were the case, how come your parents never corrected it? Did they feel pity for their only daughter whom had no friends? That they couldn’t force anyone to play with you or spend time with you? Or was there another reason?

Regardless of what had passed, the cabin slowly became a part of you - just as it did to your family once upon a time.

Every morning, you woke to the sound of a local cat scratching at the door - a little grey beast that paced the floor of the cabin before you set a plate of leftover steamed or roasted fish before the little creature, petting his fur as he ate before he took a bath and perched on the window sill, watching as you tended to the house - cleaning it and ridding it of decay and clutter that had mounted over the years of neglect. Then you would walk down to the shoreline, your sandals in one hand as your feet dug into the sand, water coming up to kiss your skin with is cool lips and filling your prints with water as it made small homes for the little hermit crabs that lurked along the shore - the little grey kitten walking beside you, it’s little blue gaze peering up at you from time to time as he meowed as if holding a conversation with you. You would hum and talk to him, even though you couldn’t understand him nor he could you - but the way his long fluffy tail would wrap around the back of your leg felt comforting, like he was guiding you along. 

Then you would return to the cabin for a quick lunch before grabbing your fishing gear and heading back to the coast. The waves hit against your legs as you steadied yourself in the thrashing water as you casted line after line, reeling in food for supper and for your little companion who sat on a large rock and watched with interest. By the time the sun was setting, you would reel in your last catch and return to the shore, pulling your sandals on and hiking up the trail back to the cabin with the little grey kitten following close behind you. A fire was sparked into the pit, the flames flickering with life as you rested your catches in a wire basket that hung over the flames, turning each little piece over along with care as the flesh slowly became white and flaky - the corn and potatoes already prepared along with a small package of chocolate chip cookies that would become the end to a simple and meaningful meal.

Even though your days were filled with sorrow - your dreams were filled with a figure.

Each night, as sleep took you, you would often find yourself staring out at the sea as storm clouds brew overhead, threatening to split open and spew cool water from the heavens. You would reach around and wrap into yourself, your nails digging into your skin as a chilled breeze rattled your frame. You stood your ground, your eyes never leaving the horizon, even as the wind grew stronger and stronger, threatening to topple your figure. Eventually, the wind calmed as something appeared in the distance; a voice that sounded both familiar and unfamiliar calling out to you following the shape of what appeared to be a man. The figure would often extend their hand, their voice shifting to something soft and gentle, other times a giggle would erupt from their lips - but more often than not, singing in a language you had never heard before. You would start to take steps forward, one hand reaching out to theirs. But just before you could touch, your eyes would open to the sunlight streaming through the thin curtains of your small bedroom. 

You started to muddle over the dream at the beginning of the second week of your time away from the big city, stirring your coffee absent-mindedly as your thoughts delved into darker waters; who was that in your dream? Why did he sound familiar? Was he supposed to be the ex you had left behind? Was your dream telling you that you should go back and forgive him? Or were they a person from your past? A friend that you had when you were a child but had forgotten about? You looked out the window as the grey kitten hopped onto the table and laid before you on his side, his belly up as your hand absent-mindedly reached out and stroked the fur, rubbing him as he let out contented squeaks and merps of pleasure. 

The dream had been recurring ever since you arrived here - so much so there were times you thought that you saw something watching you behind the large rocks that jaunted out into the crashing sea waves.

Legends of merfolk, selkies, sirens, and assorted sea monsters had littered your childhood, many of the locals believing that these fantastical creatures of the waves lurked just beyond their borders. Some claimed to have seen merfolk with tails of shimmering gold lounging on the rocks that lined the surface and others claimed to have seen the heads of sea serpents and kelpies drifting out further beyond. Others swore up and down they heard the voices of sirens and seen the discarded pelt of a selkie - though none were ever proven to be true. However, there was one story that was told to you by your father years and years ago:

The cabin that you lived in once belonged to an old fisherman who disappeared several decades ago. He was a man of few words and was often seen walking along the coastal shore with his hound in tow, whistling a tune no one had heard before as he prepared to walk out into the open water. One day, his dog came running into the local village, barking and whining before pulling on people’s skirts and pant legs, tugging them in the direction of the old fisherman’s cabin. The villagers followed the dog to the sandbar, only to discover that the old fisherman had disappeared - all that remained was his gear and the straw hat he always wore. Some believed that a tide came in and swept him away, pulling his poor old body under the cruel cold waters and drowning him. Others believed he was taken as payment by the creatures of the deep per an unspoken agreement between the the creatures of the sea and the humans that existed on their shores. Regardless of what had happened, the cabin had been left abandoned and forgotten - until your family moved in as a separate living space for a summer retreat once upon a time.

You shook your head, blinking as you were snapped out of your thoughts. 

Beyond the walls of your house, you could’ve sworn you saw a figure climbing onto the rocks that lined the shore. You stood and moved a bit closer to the aged-old glass, peering out to see the shape of someone or something perched on the rocks. You couldn’t see them from your position, but you could’ve sworn you saw their head turn toward you.

Something compelled you to move then.

Forgetting your shoes, you thrusted the door open and raced down the pathway that led to the beach, the little grey kitten moving quickly to follow behind you as you disappeared around the corner. Your heart raced in your chest, your heart propelling you forward as a voice thought, ‘Wait! Wait! Please, wait!’

By the time you got to the shoreline, the figure was gone from the rocks - the only thing that greeted you was an empty beach, the call of gulls, and the crashing of the waves before you. You wrapped your arms around you as you sighed heavily, eyes focusing on the horizon as the sun lifted itself above the surface, kissing the sky with its rays and warming your chilled skin as a cold sea breeze rattled your core. You licked your lips and strained your ears, hearing nothing by the cry of sea birds and the occasional meow of the little grey kitten at your feet.

As you felt your heart drop, your one chance for company that was human and someone that you did not know, a voice so hauntingly sweet called out - a song in a language from your dream. You turned and you felt yourself compelled forward, your feet disappearing into the waves of the ocean that were followed by your knees, thighs, and waist.

The sea always calls to those who feel lost and alone, wanting to fill the empty part of their soul until they are loved and full… and as such, it’s only fair that the strange creatures that live beneath its depths would want the same as well…

#twisted wonderland #azul ashengrotto #floyd leech #jade leech #twst azul #twst floyd #twst jade #yandere jade leech #yandere floyd leech #yandere azul x reader #yandere jade x reader #yandere floyd x reader #yandere #yandere azul ashengrotto #twst wonderland

[indynerdgirl]

The TGM fandom is absolutely sleeping on a truly amazing thing that happens on carries that has all kinds of possibilities in a fic: the swim call!

In all of the TGM fanfiction I've read over the past year, I have yet to come across a single mention of a swim call. What is a swim call, you ask? It's when those on a carrier are given a day off to literally jump off the side of the ship and swim around in the middle of the ocean.

They also have what are called Steel Beaches which is when they have a giant cookout on the flight deck. Another thing I've yet to see in a TGM fic.

Like, look how much fun this 4th of July one is!

Also, apparently the ships have fishing gear on board so people can fish when the ship has down time.

So to all of the awesome fic writers out there in the TGM fandom, I hope this post has inspired you to maybe give our favorite squad of naval aviators some summer fun while they're stuck on a carrier during a deployment.

Because country boys Jake & Bob would totally be egged on into a hilarious fishing contest by Mickey & Javy (who also started a canon ball contest that might have gotten a bit out of control), Bradley would absolutely bring a guitar or an electric keyboard with him, and Natasha & Reuben absolutely dominate the corn hole tournament. Meanwhile, Mav & Hondo are just relaxing on deck with a couple of beers, ignoring whatever shenanigans the squad is getting up to.

#tgm #top gun: maverick #top gun maverick #topgun maverick #tgm fanfiction #bradley bradshaw #jake sersin #rueben fitch #natasha trace #robert floyd #javy machado #mickey garcia #pete mitchell #maverick #mavdad #dagger squad #the dagger squad #top gun maverick fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #robert bob floyd #natasha phoenix trace #javy coyote machado #rueben payback fitch #mickey fanboy garcia #pete maverick mitchell #tgm fic inspo #Youtube

[lotstradamus]

inspired by the manchester anon haha but do you have any tips and suggestions for visiting leeds? 🩷

I've lived here for 2 years now (!!!) but somehow I still don't really know my way around and just go to the same 5 places and use google maps to get anywhere else. it's sad. but here's some shit I love:

Grindhouse - cheap drinks, loads and loads of seats, never too full, music a reasonable volume, and they project 80s movies on the back wall. we once sat in here for 2 hours cos Stand By Me was on. one time we watched the bar staff earnestly tell a group of women on a hen do that the bar was closed and they weren't serving any more drinks, at 7:45pm. 10/10.

Rudy's - only 9 cities* in this fair nation have a Rudy's, so I'm going to keep reccing it for everyone else. perfect Neapolitan pizza. *Leeds, Manchester, Sheffield, Birmingham, Nottingham, Durham, London, York, Liverpool - if you live in one of these places and haven't been to Rudy's yet, sort it out.

Neon Cactus - go here on a Wednesday and order wings, and you'll get half price margs. lots of great Mexican scran. don't take anyone too picky or over 50, because the price for the great food and vibes is that at least one thing you order will be incorrect. but roll with it. half price margs, man.

Empire Cafe - book in advance if you want to sample the delights of Empire Cafe, cos there's like 6 tables max. everything is seasonal, changes on the daily, and is insanely delicious. if you want to experience heaven, order the steak and chips with salsa verde. there is NOTHING like it.

Stuzzi - another seasonal, small plate sort of place, but Italian. amazing food and a gorgeous restaurant. go with a big group and order one of everything.

Eat Your Greens - ANOTHER seasonal restaurant! this one is farm-to-fork and organic. I can’t speak to the quality as I haven’t actually been, but I am a frequenter of their GREENGROCER, which is MEGA. last time I think I left with natty wine, pâté, some insane tinned fish, a jar of harissa and a bag of sunset potatoes. if you like food, go here.

SARTO - fresh, handmade pasta and picky bits. another great place to go with a group and order all the starters. I had a celeriac pasta there last year that I think about on a fairly regular basis; I picked it cos it was the weirdest sounding thing on the menu and it was fucking mouthwatering. good quality and good people! and it's next door to The Wardrobe, so perfect for a pre-gig tea.

Santiago Bar - like Grindhouse (alternative, casual) but the music is louder and you'll find yourself doing tequila shots at 1am and screaming along to, like, Don Broco. it's the best.

Blue Collar Boys - as a rule I hate 'vintage' clothes shops (overpriced, ugly, everything is XXS), but this place seems to specialise solely in American t-shirts and sweatshirts from the 90s in exactly my size, and everything is £10. this is amazing and a huge bargain if you find something like vintage Wranglers and a Playboy bomber jacket (£20, my wife) but not so amazing or a bargain if you find 3 t-shirts with holes in (£30, me). we've never been without finding shit we love. they only open on random weekends, and they always seem to have more stuff than they could possibly ever sell. it's a freaky vintage alternate universe.

The Corn Exchange - a big gorgeous ol' building full of little businesses. vintage, handmade, tattoos, coffee, jewellery, independent brands, yarn, shoes, a barbers, a bookshop, they've got it all. very easy to spend £100 and 6 hours. every so often they have a market on the bottom floor. perfect tiny representation of Leeds: quirky, independent, delicious, cool.

Silver's Deli - this is a 9-minute train ride away in Bramley (my ends!) but has become THEE buzzy foodie spot recently. go on a sunny saturday morning (cos you will probably have to sit outside) and order the everything sandwich. thank me later. if they have scotch eggs or sausage rolls on, I beseech you, order both. and if you want the sunday special prepare to get there at 11 and fight.

Against the Grain - if you've come to Bramley for Silver's, you may as well trundle 10 minutes up the road and visit the best bar in Leeds. cosy, casual, full of locals, hidden in Swinnow Mills. it's a sit-around-and-chat-to-people sort of place, with bonus charcuterie boards AND a pizza van on weekends. we are here A LOT, because Gray's Salon and Rose and Thorn Tattoo are both in the Mill, and we give them all our money. oh! and dog friendly. sooo many dogs.

Project House/Galleria - if you've gotten the train out to Bramley for Silver's and ATG, jump on the 72 back to town and get off at Project House to eat MORE food. Galleria is a great place to get breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and Project House has EVERYTHING (depending on the day). yoga! gigs! vintage fairs! a bi-annual tattoo convention meets makers market with food vendors called Hand of Glory! check what's on and head on down to support local!

Kirkstall Bridge Inn - another one local(ish) to me, but worth travelling out of town for; a PROPER pub (i.e. no tv, no sports, no shite) that does roasts upstairs and lets dogs in downstairs. outdoor seating right by the canal, and every so often they put something on and the car park turns into a tiny festival. Kirkstallpalooza is a highlight. great place to finish a nice canal walk (who am I?!).

tl;dr sorry that this is obnoxiously long, I love Leeds

#BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH #answered #oh let’s add Belgrave to this too. great pizza and vibes

[jillflame]

LACKADAISY ENDGAME PREDICTION

So before we start, BE WARNED OF SPOILERS!!! I'll be drawing from a lot of different panels and bonus material, so if you would like to avoid spoilers for the comic and bonus stuff, go read everything on the Lackadaisy official website (seriously go read it its amazing) and then come right back here!

To begin, I've been in the mood for some Lackadaisy theories.

Mostly concerning the fun scavenger-hunt bonus feature on their website, jocosely titled "Funeral Home".

Everybody who's played around with the feature has figured out that if you put various characters' names into it, you get fed back quotes from the pilot. All except Atlas, who spits back this:

I've seen a lot of theories circulating that Atlas was drowned or that his death was somehow tied to water, but we know that isn't true because we get a glimpse into his death in 'Introduction 2':

Atlas was clearly shot (or stabbed, i guess, but far more likely he was shot given the importance of guns to the Lackadaisy.) But I'm not here to spectate on whether Mordecai and Mitzi killed him... yet

I'm here to talk about how whatever that 'sounds of rushing water' foreshadows is something that could potentially be a large clue into the secrets he kept in conjunction with the Lackadaisy before his death. Whether this secret is tied to how he died, whatever lead to it, or something he left behind for the Lackadaisy, it's likely going to play a large role in the series. I personally think that whatever secret lies guarded by that rushing water (probably alcohol... and lots of it) is going to end up being the key to saving the Lackadaisy when it's at its lowest...and I'm starting to fear that Rocky might end up paying the price for it.

As important as fire and dramatic dynamite explosions are to Rocky's character, he's often associated literarily more with water. The comic really doesn't shy away from highlighting the importance of the Mississippi either. ^This line in Rocky's now pilot-famous poem particularly sticks out to me too. 'Umber Whiskey Waters". It's a line meant to convey the color of the river, but it could also very much be foreshadowing at its finest. "Whiskey Waters."

The importance of Rocky's involvement isn't a mistake either, because another clue that alcohol is being guarded by the famous river could also be drawn from Rocky's own character bio pic.

We can clearly see that he's standing on a barrel with three prominent X's carved into the side. These three Xs, as I've come to find out, confirm that the barrel IS carrying alcohol, and even clue us into the type of alcohol we might be looking at.

I managed to find a useful paragraph from THIS website that states,

"An ‘X’ is also used to record the number of distillations of some alcoholic drinks. With each distillation the alcohol content rises, so the more distillations (or Xs) the stronger the brew, though the Xs on a bottle of whisky or rum do not necessarily indicate the alcohol content."

So each X represents a distillation cycle. Three X's basically mean it's the GOOD STUFF. Today, this can still be seen primarily associated with moonshine-

For those of you who don't know (like I didn't until I fell into this rabbit hole), moonshine is defined as a homemade, un-aged whiskey. It has a clear color, a corn base, a high alcohol content, and it's traditionally bottled in mason jars. (I ripped all of this right from google)

During the prohibition, the demand for moonshine would have risen drastically, but a more important key-phrase to take away from all that is the 'clear color'. Not very 'umber whiskey waters' of it, UNTIL you read about how umber whiskey gets its color.

It absorbs its color by maturing in wooden casks. And this process can take a while. One might even catch his death waiting around that long. HahHAhaAHAHAhahahah

*ahem* Sorry. But, there might be some truth there. Whiskey needs to be matured for a minimum of 3 years, many being matured for far longer than that, and only one year has passed between Atlas's death and the current timeline.

All of this for me just confirms that there's some umber alcohol in those waters, or more probably, tucked away under it. We don't know how long its been there for, or who, besides Atlas himself, might know of its existence, but let's not forget Atlas's VAST stretch of underground tunnels that the Lackadaisy provides access to. It wouldn't be much of a stretch to think that he might have had a tunnel or two filled with maturing whiskey, hidden deep underground, maybe close to the Mississippi... maybe dangerously close. Maybe they're a reckless act away from flooding entirely, spilling their valuable contents into the river... causing lots of destruction....

This might be a bad time to re-remind everybody of Rocky's drowning motif.

eh... im sure he'll be fine...

Furthermore... the article I linked above leaves us on THIS cheery note...

"Other applications for a series of Xs occur within the writing fraternity, whereby a writer completing a manuscript concludes the text with a single line of ‘XXX’ to signify to printers and editors that this is ‘The End.’"

#lackadaisy #lackadaisy spoilers #rocky rickaby #calvin mcmurray #lackadaisy theory #lackadaisy prediction #atlas death #mordecai heller #lackadaisycats #at the very least im hoping to get some good fanfic out of this >:) #fanfiction writers go do your thing

[fartlovingblkguy69]

So I always wanted to see more to this story but I never did so I guess I’ll just do it myself.

Eddie sat his hairy ass back on Johnny’s face and ripped another huge fart. “Come on boy. Eat my ass. It’s all sweaty and itchy. Let me feel that tongue soothe my nasty hole” Eddie smothered the slave’s face until he couldn’t breathe, then yelled “Either you eat my ass or you die under it. Your choice.” Johnny started to lick and suck on Eddie’s hairy hole while Eddie started wiggling and pushing back against his tongue, farting wetly while he started to stroke his 7 inch dick. “Oh yeah, that’s a good boy. Keep going. Mmm. Fuck!” Prrrrrrttttttt Fssssssssshhhhhh Eddie smothered poor Johnny’s head, farting and getting ate deeply, pushing his hole into the slave’s mouth until he came. When he came though, he ended up pushing out the tip of thick turd. “Oh damn! Disturbs to do that.” He started to get up, unsure of what rules Raul might have and then thought better of it. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Open up your mouth slave boy” he pushed until the boy’s mouth was full, then cut off the huge turd, dropping the first bit in Johnny’s mouth. “Chew and swallow, then I’ll let you breathe” he said as he sat and squashed Johnny’s face once again. Johnny was forced to chew up the nasty shit. It was disgusting and he could taste bits of corn and nuts. He finished swallowing and Eddie let out a big fart around the dump that was still in his hairy ass right as Raul came back. “I see you’re enjoying my fart slave. How’s he doing? He sucking up all your gas for you?” Raul talked to his friend while sitting his naked hairy ass on Johnny’s stomach and ripped a giant fart. FPRPprfprfprpfrFPRFPRFRFPRPprfprfprpfrFPRFPRFRPPFRFPRFPRPRPFRPRPFRPFRPFRPFRPFRPRFPFRPPPFRFPRFPRPRPFRPRPFRPFRPFRPFRPFRPRFPFRP “He’s doing all right. I wish I could push more but I really gotta take a big shit to be honest” Eddie said, farting one more time before getting up. “Oh, well it looks like you already let a bit out” looking at the streaks around Johnny’s mouth. “Sorry about that man. I was just pushing and it just kind to came out” Raul smirked down at Johnny, saying “Oh it’s fine, just kept that to a minimum. I’m trying to train him to take everything out of my fat, hairy ass anyway and it’d be awesome to watch him choke on one of your big shits. I just want to be the first to feed him” Eddie made his way to the bathroom and started to fill the toilet with his giant dump with the door open. “That being said, don’t bother to wipe. You can just use his tongue” Raul yelled to Eddie over the loud farts and grunting coming from the hairy man.

#male farts #gay shit #human toilet #im lactose intolerant #hairy male #face farts #gassy farts #fart kink #sniff sniff

[yourtamaki]

#omg could you imagine a law luffy threesome

i AM imagining it now. really hard. [ASCE]

we’re always on the same wavelength bb warnings: f!reader, law eats ass, pre-established lawlu implied

when the two captains had corned you, drunk on victory and high off life, looking for another body to warm their bed, it was the easiest thing to say yes and let them lead you by the hand. it’s only while you weave through dark corridors that you recognize the shared glint in their eyes was something other than lust. something sharper. dangerous.

but then the door slams shut and luffy is on you and it’s hard to think of much else. he’s everywhere, just the way you knew he’d be, licking his way into your mouth and doing his best to undress you without pulling away. it’s overwhelming, heady. you just start to lose yourself in the rhythm when a startled moan spills into your mouth and luffy is gone, tugged off by law who’s standing so close behind you you could feel the heat of him on your back, a fistful of luffy’s dark hair in his hand.

“slow down,” the command may have been for luffy but law growls it into your ear, low enough that if it wasn’t for the annoyed whine, you wouldn’t have thought luffy had heard him at all.

you lean forward to nip and bite on the neck law has bared before you, leaving a trail of dark marks while luffy’s hips jerked against yours. law takes up what luffy had started, pushing your shirt up enough to grope at your chest with his free hand, rolling and pinching your nipple till you’re moaning into luffy’s neck.

when law finally releases his hold on luffy, it’s to sink down on his knees, hook his fingers into the band of your pants and pull them and your panties down in one go. luffy pulling your hand to his clothed bulge to palm his cock isn’t enough to distract you from the shock of two quick slaps on your ass before law spreads you open.

“should’ve known you’d be pretty down here, too,” he says.

luffy laughs, sliding a hand between your thighs and cupping your cunt, “she’s pretty all over, aren’t you baby?”

your flustered reply gets stuck in your throat as law spits over your hole, thumb tracing over the rim and rubbing the mess in before he surges forward and starts to lick you open.

“oh fuck you’re dripping,” luffy’s breath is hot against your cheek as he sinks two fingers inside you. you relish the stretch, the slight burn pairing with the sting of law’s blunt nails on your skin in mind numbing pleasure.

every broad swipe of law’s tongue has you pushing back for more only for luffy’s fingers to curl in the most delicious way, making your hips buck forward and try to fuck them deeper. time slips away from you as you rock back and forth, chasing the pleasure that surrounds you on all ends. neither of them sound like they’re much better off, luffy moaning as you stroke him over his pants and law swearing when he comes up for air.

but all at once it’s over, both men pulling away right when the taut coil in your gut was about to snap and you’re left humping the air in desperate search for the lost friction.

“why?” you ask, bracing yourself against luffy, knees so weak you’re half certain they’ll fail on you any second. “i was so close, luffy. law please.”

law pushes himself to his feet and steps in close, pushing you further into luffy’s arms until the three of you are pressed so close you’re breathing as one. a hand drifts up, pausing at the base of your throat to squeeze lightly before gripping your jaw tight.

“i know, sweetheart. but when you cum,” law says, two fingers sliding into your mouth and pressing down on your tongue, “it’ll be with one of us in here and the other in that pretty fucking pussy. understand?”

you can’t speak, can’t even nod with how firm his grip is but luffy grins when he catches your eye, wide and bright. dangerous.

“she understands.”

#luffy smut #law smut #one piece smut #luffy x reader #law x reader #one piece x reader #i’m dizzy thinking about them