#also if the water goes cold mid-fuck?

[dorkyji]

how the hell do people fuck in showers because i know for a fact that they are scared SHITLESS of falling and breaking their freaking necks???

#like #WHAT? #literally risking it all? #shower floors #slippy af #also if the water goes cold mid-fuck? #then what do you do genius #fyp #confused #confused as fuck

[xcrust]

Ok just because i’m in my promotion era. Here is the chapter that leads to meeting Stolas!!!

Eternity

Note: It’s more of a reader insert compared to a slash fiction. Depending how the story goes i’ll be more than happy to add that plot line for whichever characters we got too. However, I’m going to try to keep the story as close to the source material as possible!!

GN! reader

Word Count: 1.6K

If you value an ounce of your sanity, then a bit of advice that would be given is to not be royalty growing up. Living in a place full of murder happy screw ups can sometimes get to you while growing up. Well it's already getting close to the year where all the angels that were old are eligible to take part in the execution and those who are not get to learn about why they do it. However as a Morningstar, you get a lot of that information thrown at you from a young age.

Even though the infamous siblings of hell were not actual angels, they had a certain specialty of having the mix of both; some may say that in their prime they could be more powerful than the king of hell himself. I wouldn't believe it. I don't have anger issues like most of these people.

You've gotten used to waking up and being pampered every two seconds. But with living a life of royalty you get the treatment whether you like it or not. Especially for a princess to the king of hell. Don't get the wrong idea though. You could never be more grateful for living the bountiful life since birth. However, the way things are going in the castle, it seems it's time for an escape.

Being born into such power should be a sin in all cases. Lucifer giving life to his children had also given life to a half angel which means by all cases this family is powerful in all senses. You can have all the money you asked for and physically and magical wise it's superior to all classes hell has to offer.

These thoughts of your position seem to lay in your brain more than a regular amount in your lifetime. Currently sitting in the bathtub actually seemed to be the best place to think. These thoughts wanted out. Out of this life that seemed to have tarnish and hope for good around you. 

Dripping water onto the tiles seemed to be the wake up call that it was time to get up. 

Only a few years being around mid 20s, well physical wise. In hell time does not work exactly the same for each race as earth but if you were to guess it would be around a hundred and seventy five years? Not too far of a stretch considering Charlie was 200 years. 

“(Y/N)! Get out of the washroom!! I need to pee!” Well that's the most ridiculous thing you've heard from your sister's voice.

“We literally live in a castle, go to another one you dipshit” That's right; you are (Y/n) Magne. The child of Lucifer and Lilith and the younger sibling of Charlie. With this fact you'd think that she would choose an unoccupied bathroom. 

“Coommmmee onnnnnn, this was the closest bathroom to me at the very current second of the very minute of all of hell”

Looking down to your pruned skin It's been about an hour now, the water has gone cold and miserable. At least it gave me some time to think about things. 

“Fine, but I'm coming for your neck the minute I'm done getting ready” You're not actually mad but it's definitely the definition of a sibling being annoying. 

So you immediately poofed a robe on and went out to your room. Instead of coming inside the washroom, Charlie started following you. "Didn't you really need to pee like two seconds ago?”

“uhh … I don't need to anymore! That feeling kinda just came and went.” 

“Charlie thats the most disgusting thing ever what the fuck” Turning with a devious giggle. The look on her face looked mortified with the most dramatic open jaw.

“Ok well I did NOT pee myself, I was just bored and wanted to bother you but now i see i'm just being shamed here”

“Hey i'm not the one that peed themselves on the bed wayyyyy to many times to count when we were younger, the more you defend yourself the more it sounds like you did”

As you were walking back to your room there were imps ransacking the castle making sure everything was pristine and fine. Some of these people that you have known for years and some were a new face every single day. Your parents loved you very much but in your lifetime it seems as though it were only the imps that cared. However, even that wasn't possible because they are all only here for a check. No where else to go. I guess that's a place where you can relate. You definitely felt trapped beyond belief.

“Anyways, what have you come to bother me with today?” Opening the door to your room. You never knew why you maintained a level head and polite, you're in hell so there really wasn't any point

“I adore you but you're invading my space lady” you pause returning to your desk “Why don't you go to your boyfriend's house? You know dad likes when you both are out and about” 

“UHhghUGUHh yeah he's not bad but can’t I hang out with my sibling every once and a while”

You took a moment to think about your thoughts from a few moments prior. “You know I love you right?” 

“You sound like you're about to say your last goodbye to me” Charlie said excitedly. “But of course I do! You're the most fun the place has to offer. Even if you are a little grumpy pants” 

“What?!?!? I am the furthest from being a grumpy pants, miss sunshine and rainbows” you both never could argue. It's just naturally you guys being stuck like glue that makes you work. Keep everything light hearted. 

“Ok that's not even rude, that's just a fact.” she said while jumping onto your bed “Ok yes there is a itty bitty favor that i need to ask you” 

“So the truth comes out” The most obvious deadpan that you could give was just laid out to your sibling. “What do I have to do?!?!” 

“Hehehe… So you know how that goetia family is having a kid? I knooooow you went last time but I'm a little too tired for this one.” 

“Wait, what do I get from you if I go?” Remember that deadpan from moments ago? It just got 6 feet underground. 

“My love and affection?” that deadpan is now in double hell. See you didn't hate going to all these balls. It's the best form of entertainment, watching different levels of nobles try to fight for your attention. Really if it weren't for that you wouldn't even think about going to these parties.

“Uh huh, I don't even have to be there, you're the only one they really want to see. The heir of hell” maybe you should go though, it has been getting pretty lonely in the castle. “Ok fine, but whatever you're doing while I'm there better be worth it”

“Who says im bu- I MEAN yes I will i'll be doing too much work so”

“Yeah yeah now cut the shit when is this happening?”

“Oh hehe it's tomorrow”

“CHARLOTTE WHAT”

...

After many hours this is what it has come too. 

Looking in the mirror there you were in the most lavish attire for a party. No matter how many times you look at yourself you get shocked about how extravagant it gets. Oftentimes those don't wonder why the Magne children became so humble. 

Every time there is a party, Charlie always asks (Y/n) to go because of the fact that other than at these points she never gets to go out. It was her few hours of freedom. Meanwhile (Y/n), wasn't an heir to the throne. So most of the time she really just got to indulge in free time stuck in the castle. A classic fairy tale if anyone asked

Like Charlie they were a precautionary heir but unlike charlie they were something special. At least physical wise. Like her family they resembled the  most out of humans but oddly enough (y/n looked the part the most. It made them desired. 

So as much as status was present, being such an impossible being just made everyone want them. Although most people in hell other than the nobility don't talk about them. To them the existence of (Y/n) was the stuff of legends. Which is really lucky for them when they've been to different rings of hell. They could actually be normal because the people don't know much about them. 

So what's the game plan for today? Maybe we go and get a box full of feathers to start some drama. Actually no, the last time you did something like that there were practically 20 imps thrown out of the last party. OR maybe you could just ignore the hosts until the end of the party? 

In all honesty you never heard much things in high regards towards the one named Stella and as it is her party maybe we can bother her a bit. The Goetia have been an important family for the longest time. However, Satan knows how stuck up they can be. 

#helluva boss x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin charlie #charlie magne #stolas x reader #helluva boss #lucifer magne #lilith magne #alastor x reader #stella helluva boss #stolas helluva boss

[jksprincess10]

Are we out of the woods 5. It was a bad idea

Summary : Your father is a dangerous man who has a lot of enemies. One day, you’re taken from your home by force to go to a safe cabin in the woods to be protected from an unknown danger by three of his men: Ironhead, Pope and Catfish. You’re not really a nature enjoyer, but in your boredom, you discover a new love for nature. You also get to know the men working for your dad and interest sparks between you and the mysterious and silent Francisco.

CW: canon-like violence, explicit smut, reader is kind of a princess at first, talks of divorce, drugs & alcohol, talks of addiction, slight age gap (reader in her mid 20s, frankie in his late 30s), jealousy, tension, frankie is a mess.

Fic masterlist

Notification blog

Their slumber is short and abruptly stopped by the strident sound of alarms. You groan and put your pillow over your head, without a care in the world that you could be in grave danger. You hear the boys moving, the heavy steps of their boots and the shouting of orders in Santi’s voice.

One of them comes into your room.

“Sorry to bother you, ma’am, the movement detector, and the cameras detected some suspicious action.  How do you want us to proceed?” It’s Will’s voice. So formal. You still wished for a code name.

You can barely look at him, the light hurts your eyes. You’ve never been this hungover. “Do what you have to do.” You mumble as you hide your face in your pillows.

“Perfect. Santi and I are heading out. Frankie will stay with you in case anything goes wrong. But we might need him.” He throws a walkie-talkie on your bed. “Keep in touch.”

And just like that, he’s out. You understand now why your dad hired them. They’re pretty… effective. Minutes later, you hear a shy knock on your half-opened door. Frankie.

Memories from last night flood your head. The way he kissed you. The way he held you. The way he made you come without even touching you.

Oh god.

What have you done.

“Go away.” You groan and throw a pillow at him, which he catches mid-air. This shouldn’t be attractive, but it is.

“You should get up and get ready in case we have to leave. I’ll get you aspirin and water.”

“Why are you suddenly so fucking nice, huh?” You slowly stretch your body, trying not to be self-conscious of your the way you looked in the morning.

“Because what is going on right now is part of my job and I’m trying not to fuck this up. Go. Dress up.”

“So bossy.” You mumble as he closes the door.

You fetch a pair of fleeced-lined leggings, warm socks, and an over-sized flannel burgundy shirt. You move slowly, but you manage to get dressed without any accidents. You get out of your room with the soothing promise of getting aspirin and water. Frankie is waiting for you in the small dining room, where he has set the care items for you. You swallow everything in one go, relishing the feeling of the cold water on your tongue.

“I’m never drinking and smoking weed again.”

“They all say that.” The tips of his fingers tap lightly against the wooden table. “Look, about last night…” He starts.

“Nothing happened last night.” You cut him off, embarrassed as the memories kept flooding in. The way you begged him to let you kiss him. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression.”

“…Right. Maybe you should tell that to Santi too.”

You slap your hand against your forehead, annoyed at your past self for going around and kissing the men working for your dad.

“I’m gonna make breakfast.” You announce to change the subject. You get up and get working on scrambled eggs and toast, while Frankie takes care of the coffee machine, in an unsettling silence. You felt so fucking stupid about the situation, like a teenager who didn’t have any self-restraint. You would do better. Your head was still pounding, and you tried to ignore the loud sound of the old coffee machine, wincing.

“You know what helps with a migraine?”

“What, Francisco?” You groaned as you emptied the contents of the pan into two plates.

“An orgasm.”

“I swear to fucking god…” You took your plate and coffee mug, before disappearing into your bedroom and closing the door harshly behind yourself.

You would eat in silence. Maybe while reading a smutty book on your kindle. Yeah. Good idea. It would help you forget how good Frankie felt as he grinded desperately against you for sure.

You spend the morning secluded in your bedroom, keeping an eye on the walkie-talkie in hopes to have good news soon.

After reading chapter after chapter, you heard a sound coming from the communication device. “Ma’am, we’ll need help.” Will.

You grab it to respond. “Everything okay?” You couldn’t help the worry tying your voice.

“They are just more than we expected. We are observing. Waiting to make a move. Can you put Frankie on the line?”

You run out of your bedroom and give the device to Frankie without a word. He was chilling on the couch, but when he heard the urgency in your step, he got up. You blank when they start talking in codes and you sit on the couch, still warm, bringing your legs up to your chest as you tried to calm down. You really didn’t think there was a threat until now. You thought your father was exaggerating as usual.

You see blood. So much blood. You hear distinctly your mother’s scream.

Warm hands are on your knees and Frankie’s at your level, hazelnut eyes trying to get you to focus. “Listen.” When he sees your eyes on him, he lets out a breath. “When I head out, you have to hide and barricade the door with whatever you can. You don’t come out until you hear us shout the word Evergreen, okay?”

“What’s that?”

“Your codename. Congrats, soldier.”

“Frankie, I’m so scared…” You whisper. You feel like a child in front of your mother’s corpse. He cups your cheek and looks at you with all the confidence and softness he can muster.

“You’ll be fine. I promise.”

You nod and watch as he gets ready. You follow him to the door, not sure what to do with your hands when he’s about to leave.

“Be careful.” You finally say, and he nods before he closes the door. You lock it, before pushing the couch in front of it. You think of a hiding place, and the best would probably be under your bed.

You went to your room and stole a blanket to lay between the mattress and the floor. You feel paralyzed by your racing thoughts. You address a prayer, even though you don’t believe in God, to please protect these nice men. You couldn’t live if people died protecting you.

Under the bed, time passes. You don’t know how many hours it had been when you hear the loud and clear call of your codename in the boys’ voices. You get out from your hiding spot and run to the door, pushing away the sofa before unlocking the door. You open it and you feel relieved to see the three of them in the flesh.

“It’s been… dealt with.” Santi says with a smile. He’s covered in dirt. In fact, all their clothes are covered in dirt and dark blood. Your eyes immediately go to Frankie, to see if he’s hurt. Besides a few scratches on his face, he seems fine.

“Put your clothes in the washer.” You finally say, swallowing the tears back. You’re trying to keep your cool as if you hadn’t been having an anxiety attack for the past hours. “Is any of you wounded?”

“No…” Frankie says he finishes taking off his boots. Still, you grab his hand, and you pull him with you while he protests.

Santiago wiggles his eyebrows at him, and he gives him the middle finger.

You push Frankie to the bathroom. “Sit.”

He does, reluctantly, interrogative eyes fixated on you, while you try to find something to clean his wounds. “Don’t lie, your face has scratches.” You mumble.

“It’s not-”

The look you shoot him quiets him. You start by wiping a warm cloth on his face, erasing the dirt and blood. Even though he looked incredibly sexy. You pushed the thought away and concentrated on cleaning him until there was no trace of dirt on his handsome face. You felt his burning, puzzled gaze on you.

“I thought you didn’t want anything to have to do with me…”

“You do get on my nerves, Frankie, but I need you alive to protect me, don’t I?” You push back the words you really want to say; that you care about him and that you feared losing him after your little fall-out this morning.

“I guess so.”

You hum in approval as you start disinfecting his superficial wounds. He grabs your wrists to stop you. His touch is burning, and you want to run away from the flame that animated him.

“It’s not necessary. Are you… are you okay?”

You sigh and you fall to your knees in front of him as you realize that no, you’re not. You see panic passing in his eyes, as he gets down from the toilet seat to hold you, like he held you yesterday when you were too drunk and wobbly.

“I’m scared and I’m turned on that you killed people for me and I’ve been having a panic attack for the past hours and I didn’t want you to die for me and I’m so done with all of this.” You say in one breath before you choke on a sob.

Confused, but supportive, Francisco strokes your back. “I’m gonna make your clothes gross.” He grumbles.

“I don’t care.” Your fingers settle in his curls on the back of his neck, trying to find comfort and grounding in physical touches. You sniffle and wipe your tears with your arm, before you look up at him, your faces close. You see the way he hesitates, the way he looks at your lips then at your eyes, and when you almost close the distance between the two of you, you hear someone clearing his throat.

“Sorry, I just… I need the bathroom.” Will stands awkwardly in the doorway, in his boxers, with clean clothes in his hand.

Frankie moves away first. “Yes, I should wash my clothes.” He also clears his throat and gets up, before helping you up. Then, he’s distant again as you both go your separate ways in the same cabin.

You were drunk and high last night, and now you were high and delirious on anxiety and fear. You had to get it together.

#frankie morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales fan fiction #frankie morales fics #triple frontier fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fics #triple frontier #frankie friday #awootw

[pumpkin-stars]

Warmin’ Up

Joel Miller/AFAB!Reader. Smut.

Joel takes a bath in a stream while you watch, then he needs warming up.

This has been in my drafts for so long (mid-December whoops) and I finally looked it over again and managed to finish it! (thanks to @honestly-shite��� for making this post ages ago that I obviously saved in the doc at some point bc that prompted me to finish it mwah 💕💕) (and also more thanks to Maia for drawing joel in a stream way back when I first yelled about the idea)

I watched a walkthrough of TLOU1 last year (just before I wrote most of this) so anything that’s not quite in character is my bad oops, I tried.

Warnings/Content: Joel is naked from the get go, lack of shampoo, grey hair appreciation, swearing, teasing, fucking on the forest floor, praise, vaginal fingering, p-in-v, tiddy sucking, his hand over your mouth, temperature play (if you squint), reader is called darlin’ a lot

Word Count: 2.8k

Masterlist

🚨😡 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 😡🚨 

The sun warms his skin as he steps into the stream, clothes folded neatly on the bank, still within reach - his gun on top for easy access just in case someone unexpected shows up and disturbs him. The water’s cold, biting, even with the warmth of midsummer in the air, his skin prickles with goosebumps as soon as his feet are submerged, the hairs on the back of his neck sticking up the way they do when he senses nearby danger, hunter and prey - like all humans have been reduced to these days.

There’s no danger now, though. Unless the fish suddenly decide to nibble his skin.

His nose scrunches as he wades in, a quiet grunt escaping him as his fingertips graze the water, one hand out to keep his balance as he steps over slick rocks, the other cradling his cock and balls against a direct onslaught of chill. He goes up to his belly button, barely able to see his feet - the water’s mostly clear, the rocks beneath darkening the depths, the surface marred by rushing white ripples leftover from the waterfall a short swim upstream.

The trees surrounding this part of the river offer seclusion, the old bridge downstream is impassable, overgrown with moss and weighed down by a fallen tree that makes this the only viable place for a bath: no metal contaminants, a strong but not too powerful current, plenty of places to duck and hide if an animal (or a hunter) comes along.

Not you, though. He won’t hide from you.

“You forgot the soap.” You smirk at him from the bank, lobbing the bar at his head, testing his reflexes as he catches it one-handed with a smile.

“Y’ever stop and think it was on purpose?” He drawls, “Drawing you out for some time alone?”

You shrug and sit on the rock beside his clothes, legs dangling down over the side, feet just above the water. “And what if I’d sent Ellie?”

“She wouldn’t’ve come out here just for soap.” He grins, “Knew I could count on you, though.”

You laugh, leaning back, head tilted away from him, grass in the sky and clouds on the ground as you relax as much as is possible, keeping an eye out for movement through half-closed eyes, listening to Joel as he moves through the water for a minute or two, squeaking indignantly as he splashes you. You sit up to glare at him, the world righted as he smiles at you.

You make no attempt to hide the way your eyes rake over him, watching as he ducks beneath the surface to wet his hair, coming back up like some scarred and dangerous sea-god, the water running over his face, beading in his eyelashes and funnelling off his bearded chin, catching the light and making the greys in his hair stand out all the more against the dark brown tresses.

He reaches up, lathering the soap, chucking the bar back to you as he raises his arms to wash his hair, remiss to use it there, but your supplies of shampoo had run down, left you with bar-soap and nothing else. The nearest store (ten miles east) had run out of almost everything, just four bars left that hadn’t been raided by others… some people are still picky even twenty years after the start of the end. He hates the smell, and so do you - some synthetically sweet, supposedly-strawberry concoction. Throwing it back to you avoids it being washed away downstream, as much as he’d rather not have to use it again. Still, it’s better than blood and sweat.

Nothing beats feeling clean these days, and while you long for daily hot showers, a quick dip in a stream every few weeks is the best you can hope for when you’re on the road. In the woods.

He ducks below the surface again, taking a little time to rub at his scalp, removing all the soap and grime before he emerges, facing downstream. He cups the water, splashing it up to rinse anything he’d missed from his face, giving you the perfect view of water running down his back, over those broad shoulders, tracing patterns over the natural grooves of his form, and chasing each other down, back to their rapid-running home… over the divots at the small of his back, down over the cleft of his ass that just peeks out over the water.

He turns around, and a smile grows on your face as the water drips over his chest. The strength he has is obvious, even with the softness he carries. Greys litter his chest, a light dusting over his sternum, the curls plastered against his skin by the water, nipples pebbled from the temperature. You wet your lips as water travels over his tummy, snakes around and over the scar tissue - new and old, and continues into the depths, some drops getting caught in the hairs below his belly button, but what you want to see most stays hidden in the small waves and ripples caused by backsplash from his presence.

He laughs, hands on his hips, and your eyes snap up to his face.

“Gotcha,” he smirks.

“As if you wouldn’t look if we swapped places.” You scoff, brushing off the heat that curls up your neck and into your cheeks, throwing the soap back as he gestures for it.

“Course not,” he rubs the bar directly on his skin now, over his chest and under each arm, “But I wouldn’t be embarrassed about it.”

“No?” You smirk as he balances, washing his feet before straightening again, “Your cheeks are looking a little pink there, Miller.”

“It’s cold.” He excuses, and turns his attention from you, focusing on cleaning his dick properly as you examine the spreading silver on his scalp.

The soap flies through the air again, landing beside you with a well-aimed splat, and he walks slowly back to the bank, grinning at you all the while as your eyes are drawn to every inch of skin that gets exposed, watching the rivulets navigate his thick thighs and muscled calves.

He likes the air on his skin, takes a moment to feel the grass between his toes and stretch all the tense muscles, his back protesting from age and carrying several guns and half your supplies around all the time. The water keeps him cold, the slight breeze chilling him further as the sun tries its best to warm him up, its efforts paling in comparison to the heat in your gaze.

“Forgot a towel too.” He tells you as he walks to your side, “You didn’t-?”

“Fuck, no, sorry.” You frown, looking around you, even though you know there’s not one there.

“S’alright.” He smiles, “Have to get dry another way, hm?”

You nod, eagerly anticipating as he leans down towards you, tilting your head just-so as his face nears yours… pouting when he continues past you to grab his clothes.

His chest rumbles as he laughs, kissing your cheek before stepping back, stopping where the trees are a little thinner, where the ground is mostly flat enough for two. “You gonna help get me dry or what?”

“Sweetie you gotta get wetter first,” you grin, scrambling from your place on the rock, t-shirt halfway up your torso by the time you stop in front of him. He gives you enough time to peel it off the rest of the way before he kisses you, holding you with a cold hand, fingers starting to prune, against your bare waist.

You break from him first, “I’m not lying on the ground.”

His eyebrows quirk up.

“Not naked.” You amend, grabbing the shirt from his hands and kneeling to lay it out quickly on the grass, feeling for any rocks or roots beneath it.

No use ruining a good fuck with a damaged spine.

You look back at him over your shoulder, eyebrows raising when you catch him looking at your ass.

“Get naked, darlin’. I need warmin’ up.” He smiles, setting his clothes within reach, gun on top just in case.

You grin, throwing a little twig at him as you turn over, sitting on his shirt as you contort, pushing your jeans down your legs, cursing at your own enthusiasm when they get caught on the top of your boots.

He waits, teeth gnawing his lip, watching as the pile of clothes beside you gets bigger, your nipples turning to stiff peaks against the cool air.

“You’re somethin’ else.” He drawls, one hand on his hip as the other brushes his bottom lip, looking down at you hungrily as you pull your underwear off, flinging it at him with a smirk.

He catches it, his smirk only growing when he feels the little wet patch you’ve left on them, “Well, look at this. I’m not the only one who got wet today.”

“Can you blame me?” You shift, leaning back on your elbows and spreading your legs for him, “I had a wonderful view.”

“And now so do I.” He almost growls and kneels quickly between your legs, half-hard as he guides you to lie flat, a large hand skimming your side as droplets break free from his beard and sprinkle your skin.

The cold water doesn’t bother you for long, Joel’s body looms over yours, and while it’s meant to be your role to warm him up, he’s doing a damn good job of getting you all hot and bothered.

“You really gonna let me fuck you out here in the forest, huh?” He grins.

“You can fuck me wherever you want to.”

He likes that, ducking his head to kiss you as his fingers trail over your stomach, leaving goosebumps in their wake, down and down, over that crop of curls, investigating your wetness.

“Fuck, you’re so good to me.” He breathes into your mouth, using your slick to coat his fingers before he presses one inside.

“Joel-“

“Shh, darlin’, can’t make too much noise in case o’hunters.” He smiles.

You know as well as he does that you’ve cleared the area, that the only people around are Ellie, safe and sound in a little cabin upriver, and a couple of disarmed corpses who’ll only disturb you if the infection suddenly helps them stand back up (in which case everyone still walking is well and truly fucked).

Still, you’re willing to try and stay quiet if he wants you to.

Your hands trail his torso and back, using the opportunity to feel as much as you can, checking for stiffness and hidden aches he won’t tell you about. You’ll need to work his shoulders once you get where you’re going, help him release all the tension he holds there, smooth out the knots as best you can.

He presses deeper, curling the finger up to brush your spot, and you abandon your exploration of him, eyes rolling back, sensitive from so many days untouched.

He grins as you gasp, tilts his head to kiss across your jaw and down your throat, sucking a mark into your neck as he adds a second finger, pumping them in and out in a steady rhythm, scissoring them to open you up for him.

“Joel…”

“I gotcha,” he smiles, “So wet already, darlin’… all because’a me?”

“Mhmm,” you nod, clenching around his fingers.

He adds a third, his thumb swiping over your clit, “gonna make you cum ‘fore I fuck you.”

“Get to it then,” you grin, gasping moments later as he withdraws, “Joel?”

“If you’re gonna be like that, I ain’t gonna do anythin’.”

“Please?” You wiggle your hips a little, enticing him back, “I’m sorry, I won’t talk back, you’re in control.”

“That’s right, darlin’.” He nods, “I am in control.”

Your eyes roll back as he slips two fingers in again, pumping them a few times before the third rejoins.

“Oh, Joel!”

“Shhh,” he whispers, “What’d I tell ya?”

“Sorry,” you match his volume, “So good…”

He grins, leaning down to kiss over your chest as his thumb rubs your clit once more, his teeth grazing lightly over your flesh before he sucks a nipple between his lips, eyes on yours.

He’s so good… it‘s so much… Those three fingers so thick inside you, meticulously providing pleasure with the same skill he handles a gun, trigger finger curling and applying just the right amount of pressure for the best results… The scratch of his beard on your skin, the drops of water that run from his body to yours, their temperature warmed between you as you fight off the cold together. 

He swaps nipples, leaving a trail of kisses between, flicking over it with his tongue rather than sucking it into the heat of his mouth, his warm tongue contrasting with the cool air. Your cunt clenches hard, hips bucking up into his hand as he strokes over your spot, and laughs warmly around your nipple.

You cling to his shoulders, leaving little half-moon imprints in his skin as the pressure builds, his fingers working you up and up, higher and higher. Your lips part in a silent cry, breath stuck in your throat as you cum hard, Joel smiling against your chest as you lock up tight and turn to jelly moments later.

“So good,” He repeats your words, keeping his fingers inside you as you come down, catching your breath, “So tight when you clamp down.”

You smile at him, a little dazed from the pleasure, moaning quietly as he pulls out of you, resituates himself, hard cock warm, ruddy, and throbbing against your slit.

“Ready for it, darlin?”

“Always,” you breathe, pulling his lips to yours, coaxing him closer, your legs wrapping around his waist to pull him inside.

He goes easy, the familiar path, sliding home in one motion until his hips meet yours, grunting as you gasp, both grateful for this moment of relative calm - relative safety - and the privacy of your surroundings.

“So fuckin’ wet.”

“All for you, Joel,” you smile, “So hot.”

He smirks, “Yeah I am,” and ducks to kiss you again, starting a steady pace, too slow to make anything build except your impatience.

“Joel-!”

“I got you, pretty thing,” he grins, speeding up slowly, making sure to angle his hips just right.

His hands roam over you, rhythm never faltering, fingers drawing patterns in the water that clings to your skin, tracing JOEL through the droplets on your stomach. It tickles, and you squirm beneath him, until he thrusts harder, setting his forearms either side of your head, his face hovering above yours, broad shoulders blocking your view of the trees around you.

“You gonna let me have my way with your pretty pussy?” He wonders, “Let me fill y’up so ridin Callus makes ya squirm?”

“R-riding with you always makes me squirm.” You point out, breaking out into a loud moan moments later.

He grins, adjusting his weight again, moving to cover your mouth with his hand, “What’d I tell you about keepin hush?”

“Mmmf!” You whimper beneath his palm, clenching hard around his cock.

He laughs, speeding up yet again, knocking your breath from you, “Touch your clit, darlin… Wanna feel you cum around me.”

Your hand moves down, doing as he asks, more noises muffled as his own grunts and gasps are free to permeate around you. You can’t help glaring when he kisses the back of his hand, teasing you yet again as he denies you kisses just because you moaned. His smirk is insufferable, and you know, next time, you’ll get your own back somehow… whenever and however that may be.

“Fuck, darlin…” Joel grunts, “Takin me so well…”

He’s been riling you up for days, even when you haven’t been pressed close on the horse he’s found every excuse to touch you. A hand on your back as he moves past you, his thigh brushing your leg as you eat in whatever shelter you’ve been able to find, his touches lingering as you switch over night watch duty, waking you with a breath in your ear and a hand on your hip.

The only solace you’ve had from it is knowing he’s just as desperate for a fuck as you are. Proven by the way he pounds into you now, both of you desperate to claim a release, a moment of relief from everything in the world.

Your thighs shake, and Joel’s hand over your mouth tightens a little, knowing your close, that you’ll need his grip to hide your cries of pleasure from the birds twittering overhead.

“Mm-!” you whine, “Mmm-!”

“Come on, darlin, that’s it, cum for me, go on, yes… yes, that’s it, that’s it-!” His words are cut off as you orgasm, choking his cock as you clench hard, pussy pulsing around him desperately.

It’s only a few thrusts before he follows you, teeth bared, turning his cry into a strangled groan.

The two of you stay in position as you get your breath back, though your legs slip from around his waist and to the floor. He releases your mouth once his jellified body will cooperate, smiling as his forehead meets yours.

“Think I need another bath.”

#stuffiwrote #joel miller/reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller/you #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller fic #pedro pascal character fic

[quiveringdeer]

Random Smutty Musings about one Toshinori Yagi

written with chubby!afab folks in mind cause tis what I am and what I think in terms of most

additions gifted by the glorious @birds-have-teeth shall be bracketed by --

I was casually thinkin of Toshi while running errands today and how different his libido would be from his younger days.

Like that it probably wasn't uncommon for him to get hella aroused even with the slightest provocations --and also I dunno I just see him remaining a virgin until later in life cause saving the world is a big job and while he's personable and extroverted and maybe he ends up going on some dates cause he wouldn't know how to politely say no to folks, he never gets pretty far cause of whatever reasons.

And basically was just thinkin about how sweet it'd be coaxing him through some of his first experiences and then how needy he'd be after them but also not wanting to bother you aaaaaaall the time just cause his body has a ridiculous drive.

and then later on with the reunion, he's not as horny persay but he's so needy being so touch starved. And anytime you're together he wants to be touching you.

I dunno exactly how old he was when he got OFA but regardless this man is definitely a virgin until at LEAST mid-late twenties and honestly I'm more inclined to say early-mid thirties if that (which is when I'm hc meeting him in my lil daydreams)

Thanks to One for All he has a low refractory period (cause plot magic lmao), but cause he gets to rely on that he also just cums so fuckin easy and doesn't even try to hold it back--I mean he does cause he gets incredibly embarrassed, and the sensitivity can be a bit much but yeah

Just imagining eventually putting him through some stimulation "training", teasing and stimulating him in all the different ways and having him try to hold himself back, try to please you but also beat his own records. He's so so soooo overjoyed everytime you praise him for making it to a new standard

--him whimpering and groaning in that deep staccato voice of his--

He's got his eyes closed, face scrunched up, fingers clenching onto something and your eyes are on a timer you set as you lazily stroke his cock. He makes it past the time and you coo up at him about how well he did and he sucks in a deep breath and erupts all over your hand, trembling all over and then blinking down at you (why's he so fuckin tall even sitting down??) flushed and already murmuring sweet lil apologies

--And he’ll whine that you have to stop praising him because it’s making him cum faster and and and- --

which just has you laughing softly and complimenting how damn cute he is when he's all flustered!!!

he leans forward to try and hide his face in your hair. But you don't let him, casually capturing his chin with your non messed hand, giving him a chaste lil peck on his lips.

"Nuh uh, good bunnies clean their mess up first." You say before lifting your other fingers up to his lips. Somehow his cheeks flush even deeper and he casts his eyes to the side--since he can't turn away-- and opens up his mouth obediently, pink tongue licking his cum from your fingers.

More new to sex Toshi thoughts...

Toshi who is now assailed by his relentless libido ALL THE TIME. And how even after a really intense session that leaves you zonked out with that 'dead to the world' typa sleep, he dozes off a bit beside you but couple hours later wakes up hard as a rock again, humping against your ass like the needy lil bunny he is

he tries to stop cause you're asleep and he'd feel bad waking you up just because his dick won't chill the fuck out. and so he rolls out of the bed, to put some distance and goes to the bathroom hoping a cold shower will end his arousal

it doesnt. his body feels so warm that the freezing water barely registers. feeling out of options he figures he'll just jerk himself off real quick then be good to snuggle back against you until you wake up.

that plan doesn't work out either. his hand just doesn't do the trick anymore. and even using some of the shower gel to make his palm feel for soft like yours doesn't help as he's trying to imagine you jerking him off.

He's so frustrated and isn't aware just how loud his whimpers of desperation have gotten. Even over the spray of the shower, they're loud enough to make your subconscious believe something is wrong, pulling you from sleep.

You shuffle into the bathroom, bleary eyed and naked. Toshinori goes suddenly quiet when you open the door and sleepily rasp out his name.

"Toshi, e'rything okay?"

No. Everything is awful and he needs you desperately. He swallows down thick saliva that apparently leaves his mouth completely dry because his voice is a coarse, frayed bare thing when he finally utters, "Yes. Fine."

He presses his back against the shower wall, forcing his arms to his sides and palms against the wall as well. Hoping the frigid tiles will seep some sense and control back into his body.

Sleep is steadily releasing it's grip on your mind so you've become aware enough to notice there's no steam in the bathroom. Odd since you both appreciated nice warm showers.

"Is something wrong with the hot water?"

The tiles isn't doing shit to help him out. You've said in the past that you find his neediness cute and flattering, but even with you now awake, he feels like he shouldn't immediately start begging you to touch him just cause he can't help himself.

He's in his head longer than he realizes because without any kind of response, you've slid aside the frosted glass and were now staring at him with a worried expression.

Your eyes sweep his body, taking in the redness all over. You assume it's from the cold water cause you can immediately notice the temperature after opening the sliding pane. But then, maybe it's from something else because you're taking in the sight of his cock standing at full attention --even though Toshinori is bashfully trying to hide it with his large hands. As if you all hadn't been fucking in all kinds of angles and positions some few hours earlier.

"What are you doing?"

"I..." He's not really sure what to say. There's a lot but he settles on the simplest truth. Croaked out of his still dry throat, "I was, trying to make it go away."

In one swift motion, you're turning off the water and reaching out your hand. "Why not just jerk off?"

"I was. It doesn't feel as good as when you do it. I couldn't..."

Your brows lift in surprise as his voice trails off. "Awww," you flex the fingers of your outstretched hand, encouraging him to step out of the shower. "My sweet, Bunny can't get off without me now?"

One large hand engulfs yours as Toshi moves to awkwardly step from the shower. His other hand still trying to cover his impressive erection. A deep groan is his other response. Too embarrassed by his neediness and inability to make himself cum to attempt another worded response.

When he's fully out of the shower you reach for a dry towel and pull it around his body before pressing yourself against his chest. "Y'dont have to be embarrassed, Bunny. It was real sweet of you to try and take care of it all by yourself while I slept. You're always so considerate."

Your head tilts back, and Toshi recognizes the unspoken request for a kiss when you pucker your lips. He immediately obliges, wrapping you up in his arms now that the towel is covering up his shameful failure. The tenderness of his cool, chapped lips brushing over yours is a complete contrast to the swiftness of him pulling you closer.

While he's pressed his lips softly to yours, he waits for you to take the lead in the kiss. Letting you decide the depth and intensity, while he's just grateful to have your body tucked against his again.

And consider this!

somnophilia thoughts with this, telling toshi that the next time he's stuck in this lil dilemma he could use your body to get off, if he wanted to.

either rutting against your ass or fucking between your thighs.

even with permission though, I don't know if he would. if anything I feel like he'd just eat you out until you wake up. whether that's a few minutes or way longer. just content to feast on you and give you orgasms while you're still unconscious, grinding his cock down against the bed being the only attention he gives himself

like the image of waking up as your muscles tighten up, back arching a bit as your hands fist in that wealth of pretty blond hair, them long fingers of his pumping in and out in that perfect rhythm you taught him as his mouth sucks on your clit.

he moans against your cunt as you sigh his name all soft, body relaxing back onto the bed.

his fingers are still lazily working you as you look down to see him smiling up at you. face glistening with your slick, blue eyes dark from how blown his pupils are, so aroused by giving you pleasure

waking up to him actually fucking his cock between your thighs. Oh so close to where he really wants to sink that pretty cock of his into, but not so sure he wants to go that far, even with your permission. cause even this still feels wrong to him, that he's taking pleasure from this without giving you something equal or better in return.

but he's just gotten back from a long long day of heroing and you're already sound asleep.

braced himself up behind you, holding you close and nuzzling into the back of your neck as at first he's just casually grinding his hips against you. and of course it doesn't take much to get him fully hard, pretty cock leaking pre

you wiggle a bit in your sleep and he thinks maybe you'll wake up and he can fuck you properly but no such luck. but your legs do open and close in a way that traps his cock between your thighs. (maybe you're not so asleep as he thinks)

the pre is the only lubrication he has as his hips move, pushing his cock back and forth between your soft thighs. his hands move under the oversized All Might shirt you're wearing as pjs. you don't usually wear his merch and so it gives him a bit of a thrill when you do. He knows you love him, Toshinori, and while you don't fawn over him as a hero like the rest of the world does, he loves knowing you do like and accept that part of him to.

his lips nip, kiss and suck along your neck and shoulder as those big hands of his fondle and grope at your tits and tummy, just wanting to somehow have all of you in his grasp, his hot breath starts to beat against the back of your neck more quickly as your thighs squeeze down around him.

he's huffing out strings of nonsense words against your neck. affirmation of how good you're making him feel, how thankful he is that you've given him permission to do this. that you don't find him pathetic for needing to do this. how much he adores you. how much he loves you.

you're definitely not still asleep but pretending for the sake of your own fantasies. it feels so good knowing Toshinori is this desperate that he can't even wait until you're properly awake--not that he's caught on that you are now very much awake.

your hand slowly moves between your thighs, making a gentle curve that cups the head of his cock when it slides past the expanse of your thighs.

toshi gasps. his own hands squeezing where they hold you. his hips nearly stay pressed to the backs of your thighs as he focuses on making quicker more powerful thrusts as your hand curves more firmly around the part of his cock peeking from between your flesh.

he's so gone. trying to imagine he's fucking into the tightness of your pussy even though it's not nearly wet or warm enough to be.

but what finally tips him over the edge. makes him spill that big load of cum he's been holding in all day is when you groan out, "cum for me, Bunny."

his hips stutter and he releases. coating your hand, thighs and the poor sheets in a wealth of cum, whimpering against your neck as you jerk him off through the aftershocks of his orgasm

fin

#toshinori x reader #toshinori imagines #toshinori smut #toshinori smut imagines #nat writes #mha smut #mha smut imagines #mha x reader #barely edited this at all so grammar and autocorrect spelling is fucked but is what it is

[pivotalmark]

SOME NEAT LITTLE MERMAID FACTS FROM THE BOOK I GOT : ( they are canon for my muses )

According to my book I got about the movie, which is mostly just like a 'research book about merpeople', it says that sirens have different types of song — luring, crashing boats, healing, good luck, shark luring, aaand sleeping songs. Along with just love songs to make people like them. so when sebastian reprimands ariel for using her 'siren song' on eric on the beach , she literally resurrected him from drowning with a healing song.

They also really love the moon bc of the whole tide thing -- they hold festivals for each phase of the moon &* sun, mostly in different regions. they have really cute traditions &* ways of greeting each other in each of the seas , which are all ruled by one of the 7 daughters.

For context left to right , Karina rules the Saithe, or Dark, sea where it's very cold and mostly covered in ice. she's very reclusive &* prefers animals, &* is known for being very decisive &* leaning on her intuition. (Arctic esque) Ariel is the ruler of the Carinae Sea where it's very warm and tropical, though technically she lives in Triton's domain &* lives in his palace . (Caribbean islands esque) She's very sensitive &* kind hearted , and obsessed with reconnecting with the human world. she is renowned for her siren song strength. Indira rules the Brinedive sea , where it is shallow , sunny , &* hot . (Indian-esque) she is said to be the most generous of her sisters and leads with kindness. she is an excellent debater &* diplomat . Caspia rules the Apneic sea , where the waters are 'brackish &* murky' , with rocky islands &* sometimes snow. ( Europe-esque. ) She's selfless &* serves others before herself. She rarely leaves except for mandatory gatherings with her family. she is very protective of coral. Tamika rules the Fracus sea , where the water is clear and sunlit and filled with coral and bright fish. (Africa esque) She is the most tactical of the sisters and rules with an iron fist. She's a strong warrior and once wrestled a tiger shark into submission. Mala rules the Chaine sea , where the waters are full of islands , shoals , and cays . (Asia esque) She is fiercely protective of her waters and the coral in them. She used to send messages to humans before her father forbade it. Perla is the ruler of the Piton sea , where the waters are temperate , but very , very deep . ( i don't know what to compare this one to honestly. mid ocean horrible creatures are down there area. seriously -- they say sea dragons fuck around down there. ) She is the most charismatic and radiates warmth &* charm.

Apparently some mermaids get superpowers. Especially Royal mermaids. Like mindreading or extra skills musically like being able to play an instrument endlessly without tiring. ( there's a legend that one of ariel's sisters was kidnapped for her ability to play the harp endlessly &* triton straight up tsunami'd the town to get her back , but she played for like 5 days straight before that. )

there's actually a few legends on the book that every mermaid knows about ! there was a gay one and it made me scream. went along the lines of , a mermaid wanted a fisherman dead bc he was overfishing and dumping in the ocean , so she got a magic sharp shell that will 'take his heart' but couldn't bring herself to kill the guy , so she asked her merman friend , who agreed bc he's all cold and heartless. he goes to kill the fisherman , but they lock eyes &* fall in love instantly &* hAHA HE TOOK HIS HEART GET IT

Ursula is tridents younger sister and responsible for the sea queens death, though she did not kill her on purpose nor really intend for her to die , but she did nothing to stop it. She impersonated the Sea Queen so she could go fuck with a boat that was annoying Ursula , then she got trapped in a net &* the real sea queen came to free her , but in the mix up , the sea queen was harpooned instead of ursula . Ursula was thus banned from the castle and from seeing her neices .

Also, Ursula is the only known octopus hybrid.

#there wasn't too much more but its a fun book to have for like mermaid world references to their culture and what not !! #it's called uhhhh #' guide to merfolk ' ! #⊰ ooc ⋮ have a little hope

[neo-axe-oc-thoughts]

𓆝 AU NOTES - Guppy 𓆝

Hi, I put together some notes / added on to the timeline. It does focus a bit more on how I'm fitting in Black Ops 1, 2 (Flashbacks mainly), and Cold War. I've change a bit how Guppy Joins TF141, but I'm still working on how I want to zir to interact with the others in the task force .

/ / word count : 733

In this AU Bell survives the final countdown mission and is found by Mason and Woods who take them in. Both are unaware that Bell was brain washed, and thought they were helping of their own volition. When they find out about MK-Ultra they are pissed at Hudson for hiding this from them especially after what Mason has been through.

Whilst Bell starts to figure out who they are / who they were, they help take care of Mason's son David who is 2 or 3 years old. (Bell is about 23 at this point, and slowly starts to view Mason and Woods as their Uncles and David as their nephew.)

Operation Just Cause does happen but Woods doesn't end up killing Mason, just injuring him severely causing him to be hospitalised and put in a medically induced coma for a couple of months. Woods retires, and so does Mason soon after he wakes up.

Both talk about their feelings and feel like they are more then friends but not lovers. (Queer Platonic Relationships my beloved) They focus on taking care of David and Bell. David turns 18 and enlists into the US navy, Bell decides that they're going to leave the country and heads to Australia.

Guppy is born in 1997 and is named Harlow Rayner by xyr parents. Bell and Guppy first meet in an all ages Auslan class, Guppy becomes attached to Bell. A surprised to zir parents and others.

By the time Guppy is 10 Bell has become their baby sitter, taking better care of them than Guppy's Parents; who "struggle" raising an autistic kid. Guppy starts going an interest into puzzles and mysteries, after seeing some puzzle books around Bell's flat.

Soon after Guppy is introduced to Mason and Woods accidentally, when they surprise Bell with a visit. Both 100% think Guppy is Bell's kid at first and tease Bell about keeping Guppy a secret from them. Bell does explain that Guppy isn't their kid.

Mason and Woods share a look, before anything more can be said Guppy starts asking questions about them. Woods does most of the talking sharing stories to Guppy about them, Mason watching fondly as Woods does this. Guppy eventually has to leave, but Mason and Woods promise to stay in contact with xem via Bell.

Time skip as Guppy goes through the rest of Primary and Highschool, deciding they want to be like Bell, xe study 2 course in Uni for the next two years before joining the AUS Navy as a Intel Analysis. This is where Guppy and David meet professionally for the first time.

Guppy send 4 years in the Navy before switching to the Aus Intel Corps, getting the nickname "Guppy" for being a fish out of water. This is also where xe meet Laswell for the first time, helping her out with some missions she needs info for.

Modern Warfare II takes place and Laswell suggest to Price about adding another member, Price after seeing Guppy's file agree to a 3 month trial period. Guppy joins TF141 mid November, a couple of jabs at Guppy's nickname; but they seem to except xem pretty quickly.

Guppy spends zir first couple weeks helping with the cluster fuck that was Shepherds betrayal, not having a lot of free time to hangout with the rest of the task-force. Gaz and Price go on a couple day mission to help Alex and Farah out. (Atomgrad Raids)

After this Gaz and soap drag Guppy to the closest bar wanting to get to know zir better, the rest of the task force is also there. Whether by bribery or because they wanted to. Even though Guppy doesn't usually go out drinking they do enjoy xyr time out with the rest of the task force.

Mid December rolls around and the team gets a one week break for Christmas, Guppy stays at Base with Price and Gaz; Soap dragging Roach and Ghost to Scotland. Gaz eventually convincing zir to come to Urzikstan with him to meet Farah and Alex, who are basically unofficial members of the 141.

Guppy makes ANZAC biscuits before they leave hoping that Farah, Alex and the ULF soldiers might like something different from the usual rations. The couple days spent in Urzikstan are spent helping out Farah's forces rather than celebrating Christmas. Gaz does give a couple small gifts to Alex and Farah though.

/ /

This is all I have so far, hope you enjoyed reading it. I also just realised that Mason and Woods would be Great-Uncles, since Bell is basically Guppy's parent.

Small Note: The WW1 recipe for ANZAC biscuits last for up to two months, which is why I have Guppy baking them for the ULF.

#cod oc #my oc #call of duty #call of duty oc #mwii #cod mwii #call of duty mwii #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare #black ops #black ops cold war #call of duty black ops #black ops 2 #military oc #australian oc #cod mw2 #oc info #oc lore #oc story #original character #call of duty original character #task fo #task force 141 oc #task force 141

[bomberqueen17]

alive

i am alive, i promise, sorry it’s been all queue of late

i made 28 quarts of chicken stock today-- well, packaged it-- actually i made it too, we’d cut the chickens up yesterday and stuck the stock pot in the walk-in cooler overnight but today i put the water in and plonked it on the stove, an enormous stock pot, and simmered it all day while we cut up the rest of the chickens. (yesterday’s chickens we cut up were for sausage, today’s were for sale as parts.) tomorrow we’re ostensibly making the sausage, we’ll see how that goes.

since CSA is over, Farmsister was available to help us today-- but just like last time she helped us, mostly what we needed her to do was to take everything out of the upright freezer in the commercial kitchen and find other places for it to go, which was a heroic undertaking and took her like two hours. it was a lot. she had to restock the farm store just to make room. so it was good, things are beautifully restocked, everything is organized and beautiful, but like, good lord, at what cost.

anyway i just stuck 28 quarts of chicken stock in there so tomorrow we’re gonna have to ask her to do it again, but i believe in her.

i have done like. zero writing this week. lots of 10+ hour days of work, so. oh the insulation in my cabin has been great though. i know it’s november now so i should expect it to be chilly but it’s been like-- warmish during the days mostly, and then in the evening it’s fine and i have actually woken up too hot and sweating twice in the last few days because i was still wearing pajamas and dressing my bed like i expected it to be in the mid-40s in the room where i’m sleeping and... well it’s not.

there’s a mouse making so much fucking noise though, and i haven’t been sleeping well because the fucker like, pitter-patters around the room while i’m trying to sleep. he’s louder because he has to rustle in through the insulation. the roof edging isn’t on properly yet so i cant’ exclude him. so a side project is that i’ve had cayenne steeping in water most of the week, and today i set it up with coffee filters and rubber bands over the mouths of jars, and filtered it into a spray bottle, and i’ve just sprayed cayenne water all along the bottom of the insulation where he’s been coming in. (I know because i can hear him and also see him.) so we’ll see how much noise he makes tonight. i don’t know that cayenne will actually deter him.

anyway i’m gonna have my queue post this tomorrow morning so idk, i’ll hopefully know by then. but i’m so tired, using the queue gives me a minute to proofread and then if i wake up in the middle of the night like “i used that word wrong” i have time to look again when i wake up.

i have so many writing projects underway and no time to work on them. i spent a bunch of time today while i was packaging cold dead raw meat thinking about various projects. it was a nice escape.

here is a surprise snippet from a background bit i’m working on, going slightly back in time to before Ciri re-established the Upper Aedirn Free State, featuring a new OC i’m going to make room for-- a very elderly elf named Faerveren who has aged out of the concept of gender, to give us some unexpected backstory.

Faerveren leaned in the doorway, giving the dh’oine who had so rudely knocked a once-over. He was tall, handsome, self-assured, though he looked a little tired and travel-worn, and the haughty arrogance of his expression was covering a bit of uncertainty. 

“I’m looking for Caerulia Fitzhugh,” he said. 

“I bet you are,” Faerveren said. “Since she lives here.” Faerveren xerself hadn’t lived here terribly long. The Fitzhughs had kindly offered xer a place to stay after xe had come to them injured and ill after the battle for the city. Many elves had needed treatment, but only Faerveren had merited the permanent invitation. Perhaps because the Fitzhughs could appreciate xer age. It was restful, being among others with a similar perspective on the passage of time. 

Faerveren watched the dh’oine’s expression go through disbelief into indignance, and relented slightly. “Are you here on behalf of someone who is sick?”

“No,” he said, frowning, “I need her help.” His frown deepened. “I believe it is not a matter that your kind could understand, elder brother.” He used an Aen Seidhe term, showing that he wasn’t entirely ignorant. 

“Ah,” Faerveren said, “I’m no one’s brother. But I see, you are not the dh’oine you look.” Neither were the Fitzhughs. This was vampire business, then. Another of the reasons Faerveren had been invited to stay was likely the complete lack of reaction xe’d had to the revelation that both Fitzhughs were bruxae. But Faerveren’s people had lived in peace with higher vampires, never their prey and never their antagonists, so it hadn’t been alarming to figure it out. It wasn’t as though they were particularly secretive about it. They tended not to shift or fly where anyone could see them, but Caerulia had a habit of gliding around without touching the ground because of an old foot injury, and nobody seemed to notice. The dwarves of Vergen were singularly unconcerned about vampires as well. 

“No,” the man said. “Can you tell her, Dettlaff is here? She knows me, though it has been years since we spoke.”

Faerveren sighed. “Perhaps you should come in and sit down,” xe said.

#snippet post #my writing #about the author #farm life

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary159

2/20-21/2024

tuesday - wednesday

struggling with a song, in a funny way.

i am trying to get the vocals to sit right, it's a very difficult thing, sometimes they feel too quiet, sometimes they feel too loud, it seems like there's 0 inbetween i can get and i think partially the issue that i dislike the vocal take at the start. or idk. i can't tell, honestly, maybe it's too saturated too? in which case i need to roll that off, i guess next is that. trying that nowwww. i'm so annoying , to myself, getting stuck on songs like this, i wanted to do more today.

but i didn't do nothing, i guess, instead i've been focused on some hard songs and i did some recording, i don't like the recording much but it's at least got me practicing this song. i just don't know what to do with my voice, i guess i should try earlier in the day tomorrow, as early as possible, warm up and stuff asap, and try to do harsh stuff if i need to. i do think i need to. if that goes well, i can do something w/ other songs that need vocals in parts. it's just hard getting the yelpy stuff right, or getting to that place vocally, idk, i need to warm it up but i worry about annoying people. i think it'd be less annoying if i just did it in fewer takes, get out of my head, and just go. but that's got its own issues too.

anyway, it rained today, which was really fun, it's very pretty out, it felt nice on my skin, the cold air, and i found that missing tiny cardigan thing which made me sooo happy. so i have that going for me. we went out to eat tonight at this very bad ramen place, which sucks, idk how they fuck it up so bad but they did. they had good kimbap at least, or maybe that's just relative to everything else. it sucks to eat like, not even mid, it was bad. my gf got chicken ramen and it just had a whole chicken leg dropped in it, and the chicken was like, it tasted of ginger and soap. very weird flavor. mine was like, water seasoned with hints of dishwater. the ramen i make out of the like, packs, you know, instant stuff. idk how i lost that word. instant ramen. i am like stupid. i am stupid today, i'm like an idiot, i'm like actually really really stupid every day. it makes me fee lawful to be an idiot. anyways. that stuff tastes better, like i am fucking w/ it i'm not just saying the msg loaded packets are good on their own (but they are), this place was obviously trying and fucking it up i think, or maybe it's just an off day for them? idk. it didn't really feel like it. they also didn't let us make the ramen spicy. idk how they don't have chili oil.

after that my gf was so disappointed we went to get boba, which made her happy. it was a nice day with her, basically, the bad food maybe made it more fun in a way, cuz we will remember it. it's like, who really remembers "that time everything was normal and fine," anyways.

the song is definitely coming along, i think, maybe i'm delusional though. it was def an issue of too much saturation on the master, but maybe not the sends, it's easy to pull that up too much instead of just clean gain. cuz my brain is fucked up and likes drive over that, but it's important to keep that balanced, if i need more fuckedup-ness on the instrumental, it's easy to do that w/ the send, i should remember this now.

doing some fun stuff to the song now, i'm glad to be getting to this zone w/ the thing.

earlier tonight i got annoyed at people who were talking about how exciting it is when ai outputs nonsense, and how that's 'experimental poetry' and how it's all they wanna write, and now it just doesn't matter, a few hours on, or idk, it irks me, it's always going to irk me, because it's this formalist thing, over anything that's trying to illustrate something, get at anything, it's like looking at the huge amount of detritus piled up online and saying that it's actually avant garde to participate in that, rather than the most normal thing imaginable. like oh yeah you're so avant garde for spitting out faux poeticisms at random, as if through a grinder. i've seen poetry like that read out loud, fractured nonsense that aims at poetry itself, takes up that dead skin and parades it around, and i've seen poetry of measurements and stuff that 'should not be in poetry,' when people take dirty stuff or whatever, or technical nonsense, coding language, whatever, ascii art, anything, i've seen so much. it's well tread ground, all this formalism and efforts to sit in the avant garde won't meant a fucking thing when you're just trying to get there because all you're used to is consuming the most out there art cuz you've been too online. it's not that people should strive to be normal to be readable, i think my writing makes it evident i don't care about that, in fact, i hate that. i hate the idea of sitting near any norm, i hate the norm, i hate what it does to people, and i love mostly out there art, it's mostly what i think i make and care about, i know people, real people, who produce work that is truly, actually, avant garde, recently i was shown a first poem by a distant friend in chicago, and was amazed by it, he achieved things i struggled to do, for so long, he found answers to problems i've come up against! and to see that, my god, there is no envy, there is only gratefulness, i could cry, i feel tears at my eyes, he articulated so much with much thought, he got there, he got to the root of the simultaneous and there is no comfortable distance, there is no remove, and it also not fallen to some vitalist fantasy, it is something else, really. it is something else. my friend in saudi arabia, he too is something else. there are people, living, breathing, speaking from their points, or maybe not speaking, coming up against the issue of speaking, i am coming up against the issue of speaking, and not trying to, but wailing, using the detritus to point elsewhere, at right here, to give it location, and a way out. i do not sit masturbating in it, i do not sit and refuse ecstasy / disarray/derangement of the senses in order to receive the diseased spittle of pure logic's runtime errors, stupid apollonian pulsions to transpose the structureless into a structure, the vomit of ai is only words weighted too heavily for brief periods before unseen and underpaid hands (most likely) do something to mess with the weights again. submitting to this feels awful, to see what's valued most highly in terms of use and probability and just letting that run, what comes as a surprise for people is just that it might say something strange, because it deems it possible.

obviously i really don't hate anyone just fucking with it, as an idea, you can get it to output a mass of text and take that text and arrange it, but this gets into the territory of editing, which is really where so many of my issues lie. people like ai vomit because it seems to mean something (they might say this is not the case, do not trust them), they like ownership of that meaning and think they can transmit it, or overwhelm you via some kind of maximalism into something being meaningful. all this creates is an exhausting wall of text, basically pornographic in its nature, i guess i wonder if so many people find ai fascinating cuz of its potential to 'expose', because it tells you its weights, this makes the work, worse than pointless, some kind of moralistic exercise in illustrating social sickness, pointing at a tumor, saying, look how awful this is, look what you did, look what you did by googling and breathing and using the computer.

whatever, though, it really is pointless. some portion of people making art want to say that doing something basically regular and ideal for the rich, is actually very cool and interesting. like, yeah, tether yourself to this technology, it's so useful for creating new work, it's faster and when you figure out how to get what you want, you never have to stop, it's writing that can be replicated in style and mood, you can have variation without variance. it is possible. selling the avant garde (it's typically already bought (but when it isn't, it's incredibly important)).

this just bothers me so much i guess because it's invalidating people i know, and of course myself, it's like, it wounds me to feel like i don't exist, obviously, and i would prefer it not, and it wounds me to feel like people just could see my friend's work and not care at all, or think something very stupid, like, oh it's so ai or whatever, idk what these people really think. i don't think all this because the ai 'has no soul' or whatever but it's just so indicative of an apathy w/r/t the production of new work or anyone's new work. i've complained abt the novelty issue/ futurist circlejerk but it's really annoying to see people trying to shortcut a way into being like, new, or fresh, or experimental. new technology is always exciting and fun to experiment w/ but when it's new it's at its most volatile and most experiments turn out to be pointless ones, when you're just ultimately stress testing something that exists to order and catalog every human life and maybe kill people someday somewhere, or right now.

it's also the feeling that literature, as a form right now, is so narrow, the appeal is narrow, it's fine, no one has to care, it doesn't need to matter, but it makes one worry about new work, and where attention will go. the people who like the kinds of things i like, aren't really going to care, but obviously it's going to be easy to automate the formulaic and mostly bad kinds of writing out there, it feels like this is going to be technology which keeps people from ever having to encounter anything actually strange.

idk, all this gives me funny ideas, like, what if i make fakes of ai generations out of pieces of writing, because the other thing is it's basically easy to write 'like that' but maybe better, and then just take pictures of my screen or whatever of junk things, when i get the thing right. faking ai seems funny at least for a bit. i don't think anyone would really see or care, though. and what would faking it rlly do, it'd just be a kind of stupid trolling, idk, i like the idea still, i guess just maybe as like, a dare, sorta, like, if i could write it convincingly, which i guess i can't because i enjoy not writing literal nonsense, but writing messes, which are different (messes have sources), so i guess people could clock it, i figure.

but this made me write some messy stuff, which is fun at least.

the song is still feeling weird, but it's getting late, i might just want to cut it here, see where i stand tomorrow. it might just go over better mixing a vocal take i actually like. maybe the lyrics are the issue, a word like 'everybody' is hard to say right.

well it definitely sounds better after this last export at least.

one last export, and then i will sleep, and then i will record when i wake up.

this ai thing is just dumb, because all i really wish for is the ability to show people how much of an eyeroll it all is, all that posing, and whatever, by rolling my eyes, involuntarily, it would arrive thru me, a vessel for tiny social irritations expressed without knowing i express it. but i cannot, and it would be mean to use the eyeroll emoji. i can handle being a little mean in life, but online, it's just far worse, people take it way more personally, which is understandable, it's harder for people to separate themselves from their utterances, which makes people not want to reflect or whatever on what they say, and their utterances being them, they speak w/ such authority and whatever, it's agitating. i hope, mostly, that this was not agitating, for anyone reading. i don't really exist in this mode most of the time but it's like, idk, problematic i guess is the only word. i don't care about like, small stuff w/ ai or people just having fun w/ it, it just becomes intolerable when it becomes a whole artistic ethos/tool/supplants something and is supposedly superior to. idk.

anyway it's a dumb thing to really think about too much so now i am going to sleep, the song just needs new vocal takes in places and i should try to go wherever i decide i need to go tomorrow, so,

byebye!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[sweetestofchaos]

Hii! can you write a Changkyun's wife goes missing after an argument—she left and drove and drove out of anger— and he starts to worry because she isn't answering her phone, basically it's as if she vanished into thin air but it turns out she was stranded on her way out of the city and her phone died. She runs into stranger Bang chan who gets her back to the city and her house. Upon seeing her, Changkyun is relieved until he sees her with Bang Chan and almost fights him. can she black also? Thank you

𝙈𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙙 𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙡 📞1,976

SFW - Angst - Cursing - Some Fluff - Husband!Changkyun - Black!Reader - Stranger!Bang Chan - Request #21

You are pissed, livid as you stare down at the dead phone in your hand.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” You scream and throw the phone in the open window of your equally dead car. The small device, crashing into the side of the passenger side door before it drops onto the seat. This is all Changkyun’s fault, you swear it is. If he would just talk about things like a normal ass adult instead of getting defensive, you wouldn’t be in this situation…plus is doesn’t help that you’re on your period, so your emotions are ten times worse right now.

It all started when Changkyun’s greedy ass, eating your little piece of happiness. You had ordered a green tea tiramisu and a strawberry cobbler for a little take away treat and before you could eat it, you got called into work to cover a shift. You put your sweet treats away to eat for later when you got off work. When you got home, Changkyun was already home and in his pajamas. He had a facemask on, and it made you giggle as you pressed a kiss to the top of his head. You hopped in the shower and sung to yourself, happy and giddy since you could finally eat those deserts that you had been thinking about all day.

Imagine your surprise and ire when you saw the fridge empty of the little lilac-colored boxes. You took a deep breath and checked the trash, your heart broke when you saw the boxes laying in the trash…empty. You had questioned Changkyun about the missing treats and he refused to take the blame. You couldn’t understand why he had to eat your food and then lie about it. He was the only other person in the house! The fight would seem stupid to most people, but it really struck a chord with you. You stormed out the house, ignoring Changkyun’s shouts for you to come back and flipped him off. If he couldn’t respect your food, you couldn’t respect his requests.

So, here you are now…stranded on the side of the road without a phone and a car in need of gas. The sky above rumbles with thunder and lighting, making you jump into your car before the downpour starts, cursing since you can’t put the window up. You climb into the back seat of the car and curl into a ball. The air is cold, and your pajamas aren’t covering much; the black shorts left much of your legs exposed to the chilly air and the matching black crop top with a large cookie on the front didn’t cover your mid drift or arms at all. Looking around in the back, you grab a white sweater off the floor and quickly put it on. The faint scent of Changkyun’s cologne fills your nose and your eyes start to burn…

Keeping your eyes open is a struggle. You are tired and cold, Changkyun’s sweater only doing so much to keep you warm. Maybe you should start keeping blankets in the car? The amount of rain that has gotten into the car is definitely not good for your automatic windows or the driver seat, but that’s something that Changkyun can deal with at another time. Right now, you just hope that someone with a kind heart will drive past. As if answering your preys, headlights shine from behind you, and you scramble to get out of the car. You wave your hands over your head, not caring about the cold water soaking you to the bone or turning your wig into a wet mass of waves.

The car comes to a rolling stop in front of you and before you can second guess yourself, the passenger door opens. “Are you okay?”

You crouch down to get a good look at the man driving the car as you speak over the rain fall. “M-my car’s out of gas and my phone died…c-can I use your phone to call my husband?” Over your shoulder the stranger notices that the window of your car is down, and he frowns. It’s cold out and it’s only getting colder.

“Get in. I’ll give you a lift into town.” The stranger can see the hesitation in your eyes and offers you a soft smile. “You’ll freeze out here waiting for your husband. I’m on my way back to my friends. I promise I’m not a serial killer!”

A strong clap of thunder rumbles in the sky and you flinch, jumping into the man’s car quickly as the rain starts to fall even harder. He turns the heat up as he stares at your shivering form. “S-sorry about your seat.”

“Ah,” He waves off your apology and starts driving. “It’s just water and there are napkins in the glove department if you want to try and dry off. I’m Bang Chan, but you can call me Chris.”

“Chris. I’m Y/N…are you from Korea?”

Chris smiles and shakes his head, “Is it my accent? I’m from Australia but moved here when I was a teen for business.” A shiver runs up your spine as you dig around in the glove department for the napkins, and Chris is quick to put on the seat warmer. “So, where do you live?” You give Chris the directions to your home as you put your seatbelt on and dry off. The two of you talk over the music playing on the radio and Chris seems like someone that Changkyun would get along with. He’s younger than him, but he gives off big brother vibes like no other.

I’ll get back to you as soon as I can – Changkyun groans as your voicemail plays over again and he sighs looking out the window at the crazy downpour. He chews on his bottom lip and runs a hand through his hair. Didn’t you run out in your pj’s? “Fuck!” Changkyun rushes to the bedroom and grabs his hoodie, the one that’s your favorite, your pink cheetah print bonnet, and a towel before he hurries to the front door and grabs his car keys from the hook. He needs to make sure you are okay. Heated words spoken in the moment be damned, he doesn’t want anything bad to ever happen to you.

Throwing open the front door, Changkyun quickly locks the door behind him and walks to the elevator. Shoving his hands into his jacket pocket, Changkyun thinks of the few places that you could have gone while angry. It’s highly possible that you went to get more treats, but at this time of night he doubts that place is still open. The elevator door dings and when the doors open, Changkyun’s eyes widen when he sees you in the arms of another man. He takes in your disheveled appearance and his jaw tenses. Are you wearing someone else’s clothing?

You pat Chris’ chest and he looks down at you with a raised eyebrow. “Y-you can put me down now, Chris. This is my husband, Changkyun.”

“Ah, right…sorry.” Chris’s ears turn red and instead of setting you on the ground, Chris hands you to Changkyun who is glaring at the younger man. You wrap your arms around Changkyun’s neck and rest your head against his shoulder.

“Come dry off, Chris. It’s the least I can do for helping me out tonight.” Changkyun and Christ both open their mouths to protest and you cut them both off. “I will not repeat myself.” Changkyun grunts and shifts your weight in his arms to carry you easier down the hall back to your apartment. You tighten your hold around Changkyun’s neck as he digs in his pocket and grabs the house key, unlocking the door. Changkyun steps inside and kicks off his shoes before he sets you down on the floor. “Give Chris that towel, okay? I need to get changed.”

Changkyun throws the towel in his hand at Chris as he walks through the door and follows you into the bedroom. “Where were you?? Changkyun questions as he shuts the door behind himself.

You ignore the question as you strip out of your wet clothing and Changkyun takes notice that the white sweater you’re wearing is his…it makes me smirk a little. “Y/N?” Changkyun grabs hold of your wrist and pulls you into his arms. “I’m sorry for eating your stuff without asking…I’m sorry, okay?” Changkyun cups your face in his hand and runs his thumb over the apple of your cheek. “You’re freezing. Put something heavy on and make sure you wear socks.” He presses his lips to yours and sighs against your lips. “I’ll leave you to it.”

Changkyun grabs a black shirt from his dresser and leaves the bedroom, shutting the door behind him. In the living room, he throws the shirt at Chris with a glare. “Wear that, so you don’t get sick.” Chris nods his head and Changkyun raises an eyebrow, “What were you doing with my wife?”

“Bringing her home?” Chris questions, not sure how to answer.

“Did she go to you?”

“What?” Chris’ eyes widen at the question, now understanding why Changkyun was being so hostile towards him. “You got it all wrong, man!” Chris shakes his head and quickly changes out of his wet white shirt and into the dry black one that it a little tight around his chest. “Her car was broken down on the side of the road and her phone died. I was just passing by and wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

Changkyun believes his words, but he has another question. Before he can ask another question, you come into the living room dressed in black sweats and a pale orange crop top sweater with white and black stripped socks. Your wet wig has been replaced by a pale orange headwrap and you have a blanket pulled over your shoulders. Damn…you look so cute. Changkyun smiles and wraps his arms around your waist, as you stand by his side.

“Why don’t you stay until the rain lets up?”

Changkyun and Chris share a look and Chris shakes his head. “Thank you, but I need to get back to my friends. They are worried about me.” Chris waves his phone around and sure enough three different names are flashing on his phone.

You pout and grab his white shirt, “Well at least stay until your shirt is dry.”

Chris agrees and Changkyun waits for you to leave the room before he asks his next question, “Chris…” Changkyun sits on the couch and Chris follows his lead. “Was…was she scared?”

“Not really…at least she didn’t show it. She seemed…upset? Worried, but I think that was because she couldn’t call you.”

Changkyun nods his head and sighs, “Do you want coffee? Tea?” Chris agrees to some tea and Changkyun makes three cups before he carries them into the living room. You are now sitting across from Chris in the lounge chair with your legs pulled underneath your butt. “Here, babe.” Changkyun hands you a fresh hot cup of tea and you sigh happily as the warmth spreads around your hands. Changkyun gives Chris his cup and sits down, “Thank you for helping my wife. I was beside myself wondering where she was in this storm.”

“No worries. It would have been a dick move to leave her stranded like that.”

The three of you talk for a while until Chris’ shirt is dry and together, you and Changkyun walks Chris to your front door.

“Thank you again,” you bow deeply to Chris and his ear turn red as Changkyun does the same.

“Don’t forget to grab your car when the weather lets up.” Chris smiles and heads out of the apartment leaving you alone with your husband.

Changkyun grabs your hand and locks the door, “Come on. Time for bed.”

#soc answers #soc anon #soc changkyun #soc chan #missed call #request #soc requests #kpop ambw #black!reader #changkyun x black!reader #monsta x #stray kids #bang chan #im changkyun #exqueuese me

[calciseptinefic]

then out of nowhere, somebody comes and hits you with an ooh la la la, ooh la la la, ooh la la la, ooh

Marvel || Wade Wilson/Peter Parker || Part 3 notes: Title from 'Mad Sounds' by Arctic Monkeys. Many thanks to babygato for her beta on this chapter. this fic is also available on ao3 warnings: none

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← previous: Part 2

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Wade wakes. His hand is under his pillow, gripping the handle of his gun, unlocking the safety as he sits up. He aims—

But there's nothing. Just his heart pounding in his chest and a shrill ringing in his ears. His eyes dart to the window—closed—and the door—shut. The closet is empty. There's no room to hide under the bed. He's alone—he's safe—he's—

Wade forces himself to breathe in.

Breathe out.

His ribs and diaphragm shudder with the effort. Inhale. He counts the seconds in his head. Exhale. Tells himself he isn't in any danger. Inhale. Allows himself to be in the moment. Exhale. Lets go.

In…

Out…

Slowly, Wade calms down. When his panic has faded, he lets his finger fall from the trigger. Puts the safety back on. Briefly touches the long side of the barrel to his cheek, the cold hardness of the metal real and reassuring, a solid reminder that he can protect himself. A talisman of sorts. Grounding. Then he puts it once more under the pillow.

It's mid-morning. The sun has risen over the building next door and golden light seeps in through the blinds, hatching perpendicular against the dark wooden floorboards. Dust motes float lazily in and out of the slatted beams. Wade's comforter is heavy and warm. He contemplates curling up again and dozing for another hour or so, but…

Peter.

The spider-themed superhero from another reality.

Another reality.

A dream?

Wade gets out of bed and goes to the door, bare feet treading silent upon the floor. He turns the handle softly, the click of the mechanism barely audible, and takes a few steps forward until he can peer into the living room. There's a human-shaped lump on his couch, curled into a ball beneath Wade's spare comforter. Only the tuft of Peter's messy brown hair is sticking out, but it's enough for Wade to identify him. That, and Peter's red and blue suit is folded neatly on the coffee table, alongside a half-emptied glass of water.

Not a dream then.

This reality.

In the light of day, the situation Wade has found himself in feels more surreal. Wade's just an ex-soldier turned glorified errand boy with more mental health problems than the DSM-TR-5 can identify. How is he supposed to help a fucking superhero from an alternate universe? He doesn't have a fancy science degree—hell, he didn't even graduate high school—so if Peter needs that kind of help, the most Wade can do is help him sneak into a building after hours.

It wouldn't be the first time we were wildly out of our depth, Wade thinks to himself. Just gotta start where we always do.

An idea is forming in Wade's brain. He can feel the shape of it but can't make out the pieces, not yet, so he goes back into his room, sits on the edge of his mattress, and grabs his phone off the nightstand. Unlocks it. Pulls up Google, and types in 'parallel universe'.

The first thing that crops up is an article from space.com, which attempts to talk about 'eternal inflation' in terms of 'bubbles' and 'wave functions' and 'branches'. It seems easy enough to digest until he gets to a theory about a mirror universe and loses the thread of the plot when he reads 'while eggs would un-crack and make their way back inside chickens'. Peter's universe might be weird but Wade doubts it's that weird.

Wikipedia is Wade's next stop. There are so many blue links that he quickly gets lost in the tangle. Some links are irrelevant, connected to philosophical thought experiments or sci-fi media, while links to relevant concepts go completely over his head. He's heard a few of the terms before, but they've always been used in a hand-wavy, non-specific manner, and he quickly finds there's nothing hand-wavy or non-specific about actual quantum mechanics.

Again, Wade back-clicks and starts over. He reads a handful of other articles, watches a few YouTube videos on low volume, and even attempts to decipher a couple of scientific papers. All of it makes every neuron in his head ache. He sets his phone aside when he has the gist of it:

Math says parallel universes exist, probably—but travel? Forget about it.

The idea in Wade's brain becomes doubt as he is forced to confront the sheer impossibility of Peter's words. He knows that something undeniably preternatural is going on; he saw Peter on the ceiling last night and had his hand webbed up. But those are things that Wade witnessed. Experienced. If Wade had to explain what the reason behind it all was without any assistance from Peter, he would probably point all ten fingers (and all ten toes) at the government.

Wade sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, the pressure alleviating the ache in his skull. Truthfully, Wade doesn't think of himself as a practical person. He's not great with money, he tends to give into the most basic of whims, and—when it isn't a matter of life or death—he's generally reckless with himself and his time. But even he has to admit that travel between alternate realities seems unlikely, even more so than Peter being the product of some weird classified science project. Wade's been in the military. He's seen fucked up shit, and lost any remaining faith he might have had in both the government and the people who run it. It's not like he's some conspiracy theory nutbag who thinks the earth is flat or the moon landing was faked, but potentially experimenting on humans to give them superpowers?

See above, re: Wade's been in the military. Fucked up shit ain’t even the half of it.

The thing is, Wade doesn't think that Peter's lying. Or rather, he doesn't think that Peter thinks he's lying. In Peter's mind, maybe he truly believes that he's a superhero from another universe. But in actuality? Maybe Peter's mind is cracked from the strain of genetic experimentation. Maybe he escaped the facility he was detained in, and by random chance he ended up in Wade's apartment in Queens.

Of course, this theory doesn't explain how Peter knows Wade. Trusts Wade. Having a complete stranger place their absolute faith in Wade is just as crazy as accidental inter-dimensional travel. Sure, it might be possible, but the chances of it actually happening? The odds are so infinitesimally small that they become unbelievable. All Wade truly knows is that Peter needs his help and, whatever the truth is, Wade's going to give it.

Even if helping Peter means betraying his trust a bit.

The first stages of a plan solidify in Wade's brain. He makes a mental note to call Weasel at the first available opportunity, then puts his phone back down and grabs a change of clothes. Peter is still dead asleep on the couch and snoring lightly. Wade cannot help but smile, the expression tugging at his scar. It's been awhile since he's shared his space with someone and it feels... nice.

In the bathroom, Wade goes through his normal routine. He brushes his teeth. He hops in the shower. He pisses down the drain, washes his hair and body, then jacks off. Normally, morning masturbation is perfunctory for Wade, a way to regulate his dopamine and make sure his head's on right for the day. It's little more than a grab-n-go; he doesn't bother with elaborate fantasies, just shuffles through his mental rolodex until he finds something to sink into.

Today, Wade thinks of Peter. He can't help it. Physically, Peter's his type, and that spandex costume of his hid nothing. His long legs would feel good wrapped around Wade's waist, knees digging into Wade's ribs. He'd be so cute as Wade fucked him, his boyish face flushed red, his doe eyes gone glassy, his teeth worrying his bottom lip. Would he beg for Wade to go harder? Give Wade pretty pleases and cry about how he needed it? Or would he demand an unspecified 'more', goading Wade with playful taunts and teases while his nails dug into Wade's shoulders—

Wade grunts as he comes. His body twitches with how fast and quick it was, and his cock throbs a little miserably in his hand. Hot water hits his neck, shoulders, and chest before rolling down his body; he stares down at the nearly invisible lines of water as they move towards the drain.

This really, really, really is not going to end well, Wade thinks.

After his shower, Wade doesn't bother to shave, even though his stubble is long enough now to enter beard territory. He just towels himself dry, pulls on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, and makes sure he doesn't forget deodorant. He even eyes his cologne for a few seconds. It's ridiculous. He only wears it when he is trying to get laid which…

Wade spritzes his pulse points. He doesn't think it's in the cards but, hey, it never hurts to be optimistic.

Peter is awake when Wade emerges from the bathroom. Or rather, he's sitting upright on the couch, but his eyes are half-lidded and he yawns so hugely that Wade can hear his jaw crack from halfway across the room. Peter's hair has also transformed from messy into comical, the strands sticking straight up as though he were electrocuted.

"Coffee?" Wade asks warmly.

"Mmm," Peter hums in affirmation.

As the coffee brews, Wade digs through his fridge in search of something to make. He used most of the eggs last night and there's only a half-eaten bag of shredded cheddar in the cheese drawer. Inexplicably, he has a full bag of carrots and unopened microwavable sausage patties, but the bread on the counter is moldy and most of the stuff in his pantry is either pasta, canned soup, or some sort of snack. If Wade were by himself, he would probably slap some shredded cheese on the Jimmy Dean's, nuke it until the cheddar melted, and eat it with a quarter bag of Hot Cheeto Fries, but there's no way Wade's going to subject Peter to a depression meal less than a day after they met.

"What's for breakfast?" Peter asks as he shuffles into the kitchen.

"Bagels," Wade answers. Closes the fridge. Looks at Peter, and is hit in the stomach with a hot, fierce stab of want.

The sweatpants Wade lent Peter are hanging low on his hips, low enough that the thick band of a jockstrap rises above the cinched waist, mocking Wade for his weaknesses, and the hoodie stops just above Peter's belly button, revealing a thin, dark line of hair. The hoodie had been one of Vanessa's and Wade had honestly forgotten that it was cropped; Vanessa had always worn it with high-waisted leggings, so it never exposed much skin. But on Peter, combined with the low-slung sweats? That's... a lot of skin. A pale stretch broken only by the occasional dark mole Wade wants to put his mouth on. Peter looks like he sprung out of one of Wade's bookmarked pornos, like he's two seconds from pouting and batting his eyelashes and asking coyly if daddy wants to eat him for breakfast instead.

Wade rips his eyes away and focuses on the coffee maker. Jerking off to Peter in the shower is one thing; staring at him like a mindless pervert is another. Wade might be an asshole but he isn't a fucking creep.

The bar stool scrapes against the floor as Peter plops down and clarifies, "Bagels?"

"There's a shop a couple blocks down." Wade hopes his voice sounds normal and not at all strangled. "It’s either that or we risk whatever's gaining sentience in the styrofoam container in the fridge."

"Bagels," Peter opts. "I don't like having to re-kill my food."

Wade laughs as he fishes a couple of mugs out of the cabinet. Hot and funny? That combination in another human is almost as improbable as being able to stick to the ceiling. Wade sincerely hopes that whatever omniscient deity sent Peter his way also sees fit to strike Wade down with a bolt of lightning before he can say or do something incredibly stupid. He busies his hands with pouring coffee from the carafe.

"Cream or sugar?" Wade asks.

"Black."

Wade turns around to give Peter his mug. Holds it out over the kitchen island. Peter takes it with both hands and—

Clink.

Oh. Wade thinks. Lightning.

There's a plain gold band on Peter's left hand. On his ring finger, specifically. It looks good on him, a soft warmth that matches the olive undertone in his skin. Wade hadn't noticed the night before because Peter had only taken the glove off his right hand. If he had…

But he hadn't. And Peter had taken all his flirting in stride, even implying that the other Wade frequently called him baby boy as well. Maybe that's just how their friendship works. The other Wade flirts and Peter treats it like it’s nothing. Because it is nothing. Because Peter wears a wedding ring. Because Peter is married.

For the first time, Wade feels sorry for his other self. Wade's only known Peter for a few hours and already he can tell how easy it would be to love him. If he and the other Wade are anything alike—and he has a strong gut feeling that they are—then he must spend a lot of his time silently suffering, unable to express his feelings fully yet also unable to let Peter go.

Oblivious to Wade's thoughts, Peter brings the mug to his mouth and takes a sip. His nose wrinkles immediately in disgust which, somehow, only makes him look cuter.

Poor fucking bastard, Wade commiserates.

"God, this stuff is awful," Peter says. "What is this, Folgers?"

Wade's mouth moves on its own as he quips, "Nothing but the finest incest coffee for you, baby boy."

Peter chokes.

"What, no questionable commercials from the late aughts in your universe?"

"I wish that were the case." Peter wipes some coffee off his chin with the back of his hand, unintentionally showcasing his ring even more. "I just forgot it existed, and you very forcibly brought it to the forefront of my mind. So. Thank you for that."

Wade makes a non-committal noise and drinks from his own mug. He doesn't mind it so much, but he knows his taste buds have been deadened from years of consuming MREs. There's something comforting about bad drip coffee, harkening back to a time when he could solve all his problems with a well-placed bullet. Like into spouses from other dimensions—

Whoopsie daisy, Wade thinks, crumpling his murderous thoughts into a ball and yeeting them from his mind. Where did that come from?

Wade's lonely. He knows that. He and Vanessa broke up shortly after his cancer was resolved and, in the three years since, it's been nothing but one-night stands. Which was fine for the first year or so while he worked on the rebound but since? He misses the intimacy. He misses knowing someone and being known. And when Peter burst into his apartment last night and knew him, trusted him…

It's heady. The other Wade has already done all of the work for him, and all he had to do was sink into it. He has no right to be upset or jealous, especially since Peter has clearly hitched his horse to someone else's wagon.

"Too late for that," Wade mutters.

"Hmm?"

"Just talking to myself," Wade tells Peter, and drains the last of his cup in one huge swallow. Drinking it so quickly has burned the tip of his tongue, and the sludge at the bottom is particularly bitter. "Alright, I'm going to run down the block and grab some breakfast. There's more coffee in the pot if you want it. Do you need anything else? Any food allergies I should know about, spider or otherwise?"

"I can eat anything. But uhhh, I do have a favor to ask."

"Ask away."

"Can I use your laptop? My phone is charged but it's not on any network, and I can't connect to wi-fi. I think the protocols might be different here since I use StarkTech." Peter holds up his cellphone. It looks much like the one Wade uses—a slim rectangle made of glass and stainless steel—but the stylized 'STARK' logo on the back is unfamiliar. "There are some people I want to look up."

"People who can help?"

"Potentially." Peter takes another swig of his coffee. "I'm just anxious, you know? I don't know why I'm here. I don't know if it was an accident or if it was on purpose. And if it was on purpose, who did it, and why?” Peter runs his free hand through his wild hair, tugging absently on the strands as he talks. “Everyone who I can think of that would want me gone would have an easier time killing me than concocting some nefarious plot to send me to another universe. Not to mention I'm inconveniencing you and putting you in danger—"

"I'm gonna stop you right there, Petey Pie, before you work yourself into a fit." Wade leans back against the counter and holds up one finger even as Peter's mouth briefly twists into a moue at being interrupted. "Firstly, please remember that as much as I love a good dress, I am not a damsel in distress. I can hold my own in a fight." Wade holds up another finger. "Secondly, you are not inconveniencing me. If we're being completely honest with one another, I'm curious to see how this pans out. I'm bored as shit and got fuck all going for me. I'm between jobs, and this is way more interesting than shaking down another cheating loser." Wade lifts a third finger. "And lastly, yes, you can use my laptop. Just don't snoop through my bookmarks. It's eggplants all the way down, and I don't want you scarred for life."

"What makes you think your porn preferences would shock me?" Peter asks, grinning. He's put his chin in the palm of his hand and—if that ring of his weren't flashing right next to the sultry curl of his mouth—Wade would have bet the whole house that he was being flirted with.

Stop projecting, Wade tells himself. Aloud, he says, "Who said anything about porn? I was talking about my favorite cooking blogs, Petey, geez. Get your head out the gutter." Wade tsks jokingly, then pushes off the counter. "Give me a second, I'll go find it."

Wade's apartment has a small, second bedroom that acts as a junk room. It's where he keeps all of his spare weapons: guns and grenades, knives and explosives, and even a pair of katanas he took from a dead yakuza guy the last time he was in Kyoto. He has a small desk in there too, though he never uses it for its intended purpose; it acts mostly as a table, stacked high with random shit, including his laptop. For once it's plugged in and fully charged, so Peter should be able to use it for a while.

"I'll be back in half an hour, give or take," Wade says after he gives the laptop to Peter. "Try not to have any inter-dimensional house parties while I'm gone, alright?"

"Yes, dad." Peter rolls his eyes.

Wade sticks out his tongue like the mature adult he is.

"Oh my god," Peter laughs. "Seriously, Wade, go. I'll be fine."

"You sure?"

"Yes." Peter shoves Wade's shoulder. It's barely more than a small push, but Wade is still forced to take a step back to prevent himself from falling. Peter had previously mentioned something about super strength, but it's still surprising; Peter's muscles are long and lean, and his otherwise sweet appearance belies how strong he is. Wade tries to keep the shock off his face and fails, because Peter apologizes a moment later. "Sorry," he says. "Forgot."

"S'cool." Wade shrugs it off. Goes to the front door and wriggles into his sneakers. He grabs a jacket—because it's still fuck cold for mid-March—and makes sure he has his keys, cellphone, and wallet. "Need anything else while I'm out?"

"Nope." Peter turns his back and waves a flippant goodbye. "See you in half an hour!"

"Brat," Wade says as he leaves but, as he takes the five flights of stairs down to the main level, he finds he can't wipe the dumb smile off his face.

.

Part 4

.

#spideypool #deadpool #wade wilson #peter parker #spiderman #fandom: marvel #pairing: wade wilson/peter parker #rating: m

[pixielovers2account]

Positively and strictly EVIL.

It was mid afternoon when I went down the escalator. My eyes hitting the screen up above of a young girl that looks like they could be Dora the explorer’s daughter. I groaned rolling my eyes “another bratty star I bet she’s another child predator.” I rolled my eyes walking through the subway.

…

I was looking for face products but now I only find myself looking at a picture of that girl “ugh oh she’s everywhere isn’t she?” I looked at the product judging it just by the girl wanting to mock her produced I bought it. “Bet this doesn’t even work and when it doesn’t I’ll end her corer.” What? I don’t have to have a revenge ark or some sad sulk story to just be a bitch.

I whistle as I sat down in front of a mirror. I had fans lots of them I exposed people for there tack products and who they really are. Some people hate me some people don’t either way I get money from these fake stars.

“Okay guys today we are gonna be using Jenny Ortega face products DIOR and you know how the show goes people so I’m gonna do whatever it says on the page like using warm water before I apply to see if she’s a fake or is she real let’s see.”

It’s the first day of course I wasn’t going to see Andy changes but I fast forward to a week and “holy shit guys this actually works. Looks like mrs Jenny Ortega isn’t a fake.” People yelled at me in the comments for criticizing her name and for my criticizing of her body the way she looks and accusing her of using plastic surgery and various other things. But do I care? No not at all not until I meet this girl I won’t change my mind and I have said this to my fans.

…

Monday: October 17:2025 time 12:45

The air was sweet with wind a cold gust of air always blowing. October might be my favorite time of the year. Pumpkins and different colors what a beautiful season. “Good morning y/n.” An younger male spoke i smiled at the boy “hello mallet.” He started on rambling about his day till he told me about the news “did you know about Jenna Ortega she’s coming to this store today! How awesome is that.” This took my interest “oh…? Oh really.”

…

I walked through the store my curiosity peeking when I hear people mumbling to each other taking out their phones. And yelling “what’s up?” I asked out loud finding myself pushing pass crowds and trying to go around only bumping into someone. “Fuck!” I groaned out now cursing as all of my hard work spilled over the floor “what the hell!” I finally open my eyes meeting pitch black ones.

“I’m so sorry mrs here let me help you.” I sat there love struck as she picked up my items up a clear face not even a pick of bumps freckles sprinkled over her face making her such a sight to see and her lips oh her lips so pink so plump so…and handed them to me.the items I mean “Th-thank you…I….I’m.” The girl hushed me “I know who you are..” my eyes widened as my face filled with a pink hazy blush “oh…I” I fiddled with my thing’s trying to find a word to say that would fit but nothing came to mind. We both stood I noticed the slight hight difference. I looked down into her eyes “Jenna right?” I asked licking my lips.

She nods “y/n right.” I nodded too. “You seem kind, why put on an act?” She asked I was struck a lost for wards. “I well…I just speak the truth.”

“But also tell lies don’t you y/n?” I bit my lip. Her hands grazing my arms. “So…tell me do you want to get to know me?” Her eyes flickered to mine “y/n?”

“Yes…”

…

It’s been months since I got to know her she’s sweet loving kind how could I ever criticize such a lovely person “y/n I have coffee!” A voice calls with an exited twinkle. She comes into my room and opens the bouncy door handing the coffee to me. “Thank you Jenna.” I smiled at the smaller girl taking a sip “oh, it’s my favorite! I didn’t know they still sailed this.” I smiled and looked to Jenna “how?”

Jenna places her hand to her lip “shh now that’s a secret.” She giggles a bit. Taking a sip of her own. “I’m guessing that has ginger?” She nods taking another sip before looking to me.

“You know a lot of people say Y/F/D and my ginger coffee will make a great match. Wanna try?” I nodded quickly taking another sip.

“Okay come here honey…” she mumbles a bit.

She moves in closer…closer till our lips meet a stinking taste of vanilla, ginger and like a chocolate chip cookie we matched together such a sweet taste we both moan into to each other. Her leg rising to my hip as we held each other in a desperate attempt to get closer.

We where hungry like wolves.

Pulling away. Breathless…boneless.

“Your a horrible kisser you know?” I joked.

“You know your positivity and strictly evil.” She giggles leaning her head back letting herself breathe in the sun.

#female reader #jenna ortega #lesbian

[roseandblossom]

Ok so I wanted to share my challah recipe!

PYSCH WARD CHALLAH

If any of you come out me for its name, I will dropkick you into a lake of angry geese, I developed this recipe while in a long term residential soft core psych ward, you can suck my entire insane cock

The original was written down inside my copy of House of Leaves (see below) and the other patients and I used to braid little loaves together for enrichment while we were under the lovely care of medical professionals. If you want to see how the challah comes out without learning something new, skip to the end you ungrateful bastard.

Some Notes Because This is Not The Most Comprehensible Thing I've Ever Written

Activating the yeast refers to mixing activated yeast, warm water (if it is too hot or too cold you will kill the yeast and you don't want that on your conscience), and something to feed it like a lil sugar or honey.

You also have the option of mixing in instant yeast with your flour and skipping that whole process which is nice too.

It's mostly accurate but I've taken to using 7 or 8 egg yolks instead of 5 (the yolk enriches the dough it's crucial to the process!!)

DO NOT SKIMP ON THE BREAD FLOUR. IT COMPLETELY CHANGES THE TEXTURE AND YOU WILL REGRET IT!!

If you want to add things like chocolate chips or poppy/sesame seeds, add them at the end of the mixing process. For cinnamon sugar, add during the braiding process.

Good vibes in kneading means that the dough is soft and not sticky and the gluten has properly developed. It takes time to develop the ability to feel when the dough is ready for the next step in the baking process, you don't have to be institutionalized to get that time but it was the most uninterrupted bread time I've ever had and I Benefited.

To get the perfect rising environment, boil water in a pot and put your bowl of dough in an UNHEATED oven with the water. This is the best way to make a hot and humid environment perfect for rising consistently.

3 stranded braids are nice and all but if you want your challah to FUCK, learn to do a 6 stranded braid.

Washing the dough means mixing egg, honey, cold water, and a lil salt together to spread on top of the loaves. For the love of all that is holy do not wash your dough literally, we aren't making seitan and you will incur my Jewish Disappointment!

Rotate the loaves mid way though the bake when you egg wash a second time, it is better than way.

I will be totally honest at this point in time this recipe is a guideline not a rule and I will not properly measure a single ingredient when making it but I have Bubbe Intuition and you do not, stay in your lane and follow my directions.

If everything goes as plan and you fucking listen to me, you too can have your own Psych Ward Challah!

#im just going to start tagging all my recipes under #bubbe fucks in the kitchen #this challah will make you feel at home #please try making it

[solesommerso]

Soft Chris Alonso Headcanons

( it feels like I just destroyed her character with that rant so I’m making up for it as I do have some love for her in the early seasons still)

She’s the only one Luca trusts to clean Black Betty when he’s not there, it eventually falls to Tan when they’re both in Germany

She paints Streets nails for him once when they’re talking about drama and it becomes a ritual of sorts

Her and Tan make dick jokes to each other, Chris saying she has a bigger dick than him and such

Deacon doesn’t approve of the jokes but laughs secretly when Chris gets heated and yells something along the lines of “get my dick out of your mouth and fuck off!” Chris totally knows he finds it funny

Hondo drags Chris over for dinner a few times a month so she eats something other than takeout, she acts like she hates it but really loves being able to get one on one time with him as they don’t work together a lot

Even though she’s not on the team anymore she helps Nichelle set up baby furniture when Hondos on call or Chris has free time, in exchange Nichelle gives Chris advice about the safe house

She has a box filled with an item from each member of the team that maybe they don’t know she has, one of Streets shirts, a keychain from Luca, one of Hondos pens, a little cross from Deacon, a water bottle she stole from Tan when working out, she cherishes that box

In her off days she wears cardigans and every single team member makes fun of her but Street, which leads to Street wearing one with her so they leave her alone

On her bad days she’ll call up Tan to work out or Deacon to talk or even Street to work on his bike together, all of it works wonders

Goes to pride with all of the team there as her personal bodyguards even if she doesn’t need them

Laughs hysterically when Hondo gets swooped up onto a float filled with drag queens talking about his muscles and bone structure

Also laughs hysterically when Street realizes mid pride that he is very much bisexual and Chris just goes “you’re the last to know”

Drinks those crazy Starbucks drinks and Hondo and Street insist that she’s the crazy one even though they sip cold brew like it’s water

Definitely makes fun of Luca for not being able to drink whiskey

Her and Street get into drinking battles and even if he always wins, she still does it just to see his bubbly drunk side where his filter leaves and he becomes the most honest person in the room

Has and will use drunk street to learn everyone’s gossip, it’s only backfired a few times

Hates romance movies but watches them with Luca and Tan

Her and Street force the others to watch bad action movies and listen to their rants about how they could do the stunts better

Can’t be trusted around 50 squad alone, she will start bets and talk a ton of trash no matter how wrong she might be

Puts flowers on Erika’s grave every month and visits her sister on the regular

Is into crocheting but would never tell the team about it to not seem so girly

Deacon finds out anyways and has Chris teach him how to

When Annie’s brain injury hits Chris is a really big support for Deacon and his kids, she helps with the house and taking them to school even if Annie might not be the biggest fan of Chris

Can’t walk in heels for the life of her

Convinced Street to wear heels to work once, he tackled someone with them on and that made Chris ten times more intimidated by him

Would never admit it but the team are the only people she actually loves, she cares for others but doesn’t love them like she does the team

Still laughs about that one time Tan got held at gunpoint while shirtless because the cops thought he was the criminal

Teases Street about the stupid stunts he use to do until Street asks her to go do one if it was so easy, she shuts up

Loves rollercoasters and will take Tan and Luca on every single one, then Street comes along and they learn that he’s terrified of them which makes no sense to Chris so she drags him onto one only to regret it when he starts crying

Luca, Tan and Chris all end up walking around the amusement park with Street like he’s a little kid trying to cheer him up. Chris admits it’s not her proudest moment

Hondo and Deacon find out what happened the next day on shift and give Chris, Tan and Luca that disapproving dad look

Street becomes the bag holder on those trips along with Deacon, Chris always feels a bit guilty so she waves to them on every ride

Chris’s best friend is street but she thinks Lucas way funnier than anyone else

Doesn’t know how to do basic girly things and somehow that bites her in the ass on cases

Leading to her asking street for help and to her surprise he knows a lot

She can’t match clothes for the life of her so she just wears jeans and a hoodie most days

Won’t put a dress on and would rather burn alive

Loves to give dirty looks to anyone she catches staring at anyone on the team

#headcanon #ca #chris alonso #these are all canon in my head #sammy headcanons

[jadelynlace]

also would love to see some sunburn after care, beach days/days by the pool, just summery things like that!

Thank you for these anon!

You know damn well he does not wear sunscreen.

Even with most of his body inked, the ding-dong does not wear sunscreen. Floki has a long-standing record of things he has whacked Ivar with to remind him to put on sunscreen. They include:

pool noodles

a badminton racket, mid-game

the container of sunscreen itself

a shoe, including Helga’s flip flop

once he purposely "missed" the pitch for Phoenix and hit Ivar with the baseball instead

an apple

whatever garden tool was in his hand, the shovel once scraped him pretty badly, and Floki blamed the Gods because Ivar didn't have sunscreen on

a rock

a handful of smaller rocks

a pool float which proceeded to land on Ivar and the man didn’t move, instead went “See! I’m safe now!”

very cold water

a fork that Hvitserk was using and the whine from Hvitserk gave Ivar ample time to prepare for the ambush

your second bathing suit to which Ivar turned around very quickly at only to find you fully clothed

So you can imagine that this man does get sunburnt quiet often! On top of that, he’s also one to...not really tell you he’s sunburnt until you touch him on the spot that’s burt. Like, once he was laying on his stomach in bed and you climbed over him with full intent to settle on his back and Ivar yelled because it hurt. Then tried to hide the fact that a sunburn caused the pain until you pulled his shirt up and saw the angry red skin.

Ivar does scold you for not wearing sunscreen as if he isn’t that bad at it.

Now, “summery things” may quite literally be my downfall because I hate the heat so fucking much. And with that, I have made Ink Ivar also hate the heat. Not to mention, the man is Scandinavian. The summers in Norway are not like the summers in NY, for example. They’re cooler, their record for the hottest day ever is literally the low for any given weekday (35.6 degrees celsius). It’s literally already been that hot here this week and it’s fucking the first of June.

Anyways, I digress.

Ivar tends to get a bit...dramatic if he’s overheated. You know the epidemic known as the “man flu”? That’s Ivar when he’s even slightly warm. This man is a sauna just existing by himself. He’s a great necessity to have in the winter time. Olympic level cuddler. But take that same man and throw him into just the smallest heat wave. Laying on the floor nearly butt ass naked with two fans on him when it’s literally not even that hot out. Trying to get him out Floki’s pool because he’s going to turn into a prune if you don’t. “Ivar you cannot buy a chest freezer just to sit in.” The electric bill goes up in the “warmer months” because the AC is just above freezing. People wonder why you’re wearing a sweater in your house in July. Ivar. That’s why. The amazon delivery of ice cube trays and a kiddie pool has no meaning, babe.

But! After his stent in the hospital and trauma center, the surgeries and the ample fuckery that does to his body, he starts to feel colder. The winters are the worst, obviously, but you find him in the sun as it starts to get warmer and you’re very confused at first as to why this man is anywhere near the lawn chair. “He’s regulating his body heat. Like a lizard!” Hvitserk once said. Ubbe’s boys called sun-tanning “Lizard Time” for a long time thanks to that. It annoyed Torvi so much.

God this got long I’m so sorry.

Ivar will go to the beach; as long as you’re there in the bathing suit. And his kids. That man will construct sand castles for the Gods if his kids are there. 

#vikings #vikings au #modern vikings #ivar au #vikings fiction #ivar lothbrok #modern vikings au #modern ivar lothbrok #ivar ragnarsson #ivar #modern ivar #modern ivar au #modern floki au #floki au #modern floki #vikings floki #floki the boat builder #floki #— i am i am i am. ( my writings & creations )

[allllamasarenerds]

I'm going to fight a coworker

Ok so relevant later -- we're the same position which is like supervisor but not full manager.

It's a bajillion degrees outside, but as it is a grocery store, carts still have to be grabbed. At least one person is needed in the lot a time. Per like health and safety stuff we can't have water bottles on the sales floor, so we found a compromise that wasn't going upstairs to the break room every time: a hydration station tucked away by one of the time clocks. It has a table to put your own water bottle, and management was nice enough to buy us plastic water bottles and a cooler to put them in with ice.

Lately people have been leaving half drunk bottles (they're like 8oz not a big one) in the cooler. It's gross. They stay unclaimed because they all look the same so once it's in no one knows whose it is, and people with reusable ones who want to put ice in their bottles now can't. So I asked other people and my manager and we were all like, "Yeah gross. People shouldn't." So I put up a sign saying: "please don't put half drunk bottles in the cooler."

This woman. Comes up to me. To complain. About my sign. Not knowing I wrote it.

And I go. "I wrote it. Because it's gross."

And she went "how?"

So I explained as above about how they now sit there or you risk getting someone else's and now no one can use the ice in a reuseable one.

And she goes. "Well how am I supposed to hydrate without cold water."

ITS STILL FUCKING WATER. IN FACT YOURE SUPPOSED TO HYDRATE WITH ROOM TEMP WATER BECAUSE IT ENTERS YOUR SYSTEM FASTER AND IF YOU CANT DRINK 8 (EIGHT) FUCKING OUNCES YOURE NOT HYDRATED ANYWAY!!

Explained that nicer than that. Also infinite water bottles from management. Or get a reusable one that insulates. Same though. What if I have a reusable one and need to refill mid shift and now I can't use the ice. How am I supposed to hydrate without cold water?

So the part I'm actually miffed about is how she went "Well you can tell the baggers that, I'm going to keep doing it." Um. No. Just because you're ranked higher means nothing here.

And that's run in one for the night. Run in two comes later. Talking about how to get shit done with the limited people we have because of call outs with another coworker, she's nearby. One of the people is shit. He literally gets high and constantly ask to buy food on the clock for munchies despite his shift ending before the store closes ergo not allowed. And she goes. "Well. You shouldn't be mean about him. I think he has autism."

BITCH THE FUCK.

HE'S HIGH. HE'S LITERALLY HIGH. HE SMELLS LIKE WEED AND HAS GLAZED OVER EYES AND HAS THE MUNCHIES. HE'S HIGH.

"He just stares at you so I think there's a disconnect or a lack of social cues."

I was not nice during this interaction. No pretending to not be a smart ass. "Oh you're an expert on autism?"

"Not really, but I knew a girl in high school."

"But you can clock people with autism like gaydar?"

"Yeah. Pretty well actually."

"So do you think anyone in office staff has autism?" (We are office staff)

"No, we're all normal."

CHECK MATE. I HAVE AUTISM.

"Wrong. Two of us do."

"Who?"

"Me and another person. You don't need to know who, just that you're wrong. At least three baggers also do. But not [high coworker's name]. He's just high. Don't insert yourself to talk about people being on the spectrum when you don't know anything."

She also left twenty minutes late on her own accord and bitched at us like it was our fault. Like your relief was here the whole time. Everything at the counter was properly counted and accounted for five minutes after. We weren't busy. You could've left.

#Ollie rants #going to scream