#it looked like blue chowder

[searchingforserendipity25]

There are some things Davenport knows.

He counts them sometimes, the things he knows.

His name; how to tie his shoes with twelve different knots; how the Madame Director likes her coffee.

The rules of playing Fantasy Chess, and how to cheat at Fantasy Chess too.

How to tell when someone is afraid

How to make his bed, so tight and neat he can drop a coin on it and it jumps, newly polished and gleaming, right back into his hand

How to bandage up to twenty different kinds of injuries

How to make the best sea chowder on the Moon Base, and also on the planet

How to press a uniform so it lasts a week and several explosions with no crinkled corners

How to organise reports with proper colour-coding techniques

Not a great many words, when it comes to that - slippery as fishtails, words, hard to grasp in the mind and impossible to put into his mouth

How to laugh, and how to cry

How to be helpful, if not always in the most efficient way

Some very complicated geometry and arithmetic, though not the word for geometry, nor how to write down an equation to explain how he got his results.His name, the names of his colleagues, where he is, what time of the day it is, what happened yesterday.

His name, his name, even when he doesn't know anything else, his name is Davenport -

Most days, anyway

He cries, sometimes, over bowls of spicy soup and at cute dogs, when someone leaves a book half-open on the table - when he sees groups of people laughing, and when he's alone for a long time. He is rarely alone. The Madame Director finds him, every time. Brings him biscuits and jam, shares puzzles, gives him folders to file.

She tries to teach him new words from brightly coloured books, sometimes. Not often; Davenport hates to make her unhappy, and she looks very sad, whenever he fails. He hates failing - this he knows for certain. But regardless of what he does, the Director is sad a lot of the time. Busy, busy; but she goes very still, late at night, and writes lists in strange languages with shifting characters, and then burns them, with a look on her face like stone, like a closed fist. He sweeps the ashes, afterwards; there's nothing in them he can understand.

No one sees her in those hours. Only Davenport is there, with no one else around. Davenport does not count as company, really. Or at least the Madame Director trusts him enough to let him see her when it's very late and she is very tired, and there is too much work for a night's rest.

It's nice, being trusted. Davenport likes it, likes his little tasks, his schedule and his friends. He knows every corner of the Moon Base, except the ones he is not supposed to enter; he has a little map sewn into his coat pocket, for when he forgets he knows every corner of the Moon Base.

He loves slow music, and sea chowder, and to drink his tea (the Director makes it, sometimes; she knows just how he likes it) while standing behind the transparent windows and watch the planet down below, all green and blue and changeful, like a face with many moods.

He knows he likes these things.

It is only that, sometimes, Davenport is very full of a painful feeling, a feeling like being full of smoldering fire, a feeling like --

Anger has no face, no colour. Davenport does not know a lot of things; sometimes he grasps at the softened edges of his mind, looking for something sharp enough to cut himself with. Davenport is angry, sometimes, though he has no words for it. Sometimes, anger is the only real thing in Davenport's world, the first thing he ever knew.

And then he forgets about it.

There are few things Davenport knows. He can feel the shape of something very important, prodding at him, filling him up with a warm, unpleasant energy. It is there when he wakes, for a handful of moments - every day, in the dreaming place between wakefulness and sleep. Like a dream, it fades before he is done dressing for the day. He has no words for it. The truth is, most days Davenport only knows his name is Davenport, and the worst of it is Davenport forgets there might be anything missing.

#davenport #lucretia #taz #taz balance #fic #my fics #taz fics #taz balance fic

[beansprean]

frog tweet redraws!!!

(ID in alt and under cut, tweets under cut)

ID: 1. Nursey, wearing a gray peacoat, and Dex, wearing a brown canvas jacket and a backpack, are walking side by side when two samwell students, one a white girl with a brown ponytail and red sweater and the other a brown boy in a black hoodie, rush up to Nursey surrounded by hearts. The girl asks, "Is that you on the back of the fall schedule?" The boy adds, "We like, need to know!" Nursey grins at them, flattered, and presses a hand to his cheek as he replies "Oh? Yeah, that's me." Dex scowls and rolls his eyes so hard it looks painful, sighing, "Oh god."

2a. Nursey, wearing a yellow puff vest over a long sleeve purple shirt, sitting next to Dex, who is wearing a blue button down over a tee shirt. Nursey grins and nudged Dex with his elbow, asking, "Guess how many cards I got today, Poindexter." Dex, mouth full of pie and another bite poised on his fork, sighs heavily and glares away into the distance, replying after a long pause, "Like 20." 2b. Repeat. Nursey pulls up his hands, one holding out five fingers and the other holding up three, and looks down at them as if checking his count. He says, "Eight. One was from my mom." Dex startles and hunches up, trying to stifle a loud snort of laughter. A chunk of pie flies out of his mouth.

3a. Nursey and Chowder standing side by side in the kitchen, Nursey holding a bowl of filling and Chowder chopping something on the counter offscreen. He is not looking at his hands, but off to the right, where text indicates a Falconers game is playing. Dex is in the background, holding a fresh pie with oven mitts, and calls out, "Hey Chow, pay attention! 3b. Repeat. Chowder says "Huh?" and looks down to his hands just as the knife slips and sends a spurt of blood upward into frame. Dex and Nursey startle, eyes bugging out in shock. Nursey goes visibly gray and drops the bowl he was holding. 3c. Repeat. Nursey slips offscreen completely, fainting. Dex smirks at him and lets out a little "heh" laugh. Chowder looks down at him in concern, pressing a washcloth to his bloody finger. 3d. Later, Nursey sitting on the gross Haus couch with a glass of water, Dex standing next to him with his arms crossed. Dex smirks down at him and teases, "You fainted a little there, huh?" Nursey looks up at him, stern but clearly embarrassed, and says "Chill, that was a lot of blood." Dex pushes, "Boy, you were pale!" Nursey replies blankly, "...Poindexter."

4. Screenshot of a series of tweets by Eric Bittle. a. Nursey: Guess how many cards I got today, Poindexter? Dex: [a long sigh] Dex: like 20. Nursey: Eight. One was from my mom. b. Ah, Dex tried to hide that laugh but there's pie everywhere. c. 15 minutes ago. Chowder: I was paying attention to the Falconers game and I think I cut my finger? Dex: I think Nursey just fainted. Dex: Heh. d. Dex: You fainted a little there, huh? Nursey: Chill that was a lot of blood. Dex: Boy, you were pale! Nursey: ...Poindexter. e. -Nursey Fans- Girl: Is that you on the back of the fall schedule? Boy: We like NEED to know. Nursey: Oh? Yeah that's me. Dex: Oh GOD. /end ID

#omgcp #check please #dexnursey #nurseydex #polyfrogs #mlm #my art #fanart #image described #these are kinda old by now but i kept forgetting to write the ID dkjhkjd

[oattslove]

Cute Things Cove Does

Tags: fluff, cute shit Cove does, ooc cove slightly?

Synopsis: basically, Cove doing things that gets you flustered and fall in love with him deeper

Word Count: 1073

Characters: Cove x GN! Reader

Leaning over and buckling your seatbelt

Cove huffs whenever you forget to buckle yourself in. Of course, he’s not upset, in fact he loves leaning over and doing it for you. Totally not using that as a reason to steal a smooch from you. 

He also cares about safety, anything can happen and he doesn’t wanna see you hurt. Like what if a helicopter suddenly falls on top of your car? Or what if he breaks too hard and you fly out the window?? 

He always makes sure you’re buckled in first before he does so himself and starts the car. Even if you’re in a rush. Safety first! 

And he totally doesn’t grumble in displeasure whenever you beat him in buckling your seatbelt first. 

“I wanted to buckle you in… what? I didn’t say anything?”

Zipping up your jacket

Whenever you both decide to go out whenever it’s cold, you always toss on a jacket and not zip it up. Cove will and aways zip it up for you, not caring of your whining.

He doesn’t want you to get sick! If you do, he won’t be able to kiss you until you feel better and even though he has good patience, he doesn’t wanna wait too long. 

And once he reaches the maximum level, he just dives in and smothers you in kisses despite your protests, next thing you know, you’re both sick. 

But hey! What’s a better time to spend with your partner than being sick together? He doesn’t care if he misses work, he’s happy enough to spend this time with you. 

Unfortunately, you can’t be angry with him for too long because look at that face! He’s really sorry but he’ll make it up to you once you both get better. 

“I’m sorry (Name) for not listening... But at least we get to be sick together!” 

Holding your hand before crossing the street

Again, a safety thing, but he loves holding your hand and uses this as an excuse to hold yours. And to show off to others that ‘hey look! we’re holding hands so that means we’re dating! so back off!’. Especially in front of the cars you’re walking past, Cove giving the poor drivers a scare from his intense staring.

Y'know that one Tik Tok audio clip from Chowder that basically goes like “Hold my hand NOW”. Yeah that’s Cove, but he would never yell or use force on you to hold his hand. He instead pouts and gives you the puppy look so you can hold his hand.  Which you do because he looks adorable.

Always, without missing a beat, always kisses your hand. He loves bringing up your intertwined hands to his lips and plant a kiss, letting his lips linger for a bit before bringing your hands down and swinging them gently, a skip in his step. 

The warmth seeping from your palms brings Cove a sense of calmness. Just being near you calms his mind from any negative thoughts that spring up randomly. 

“Oh we’re about to cross the street, (Name)! Hold my hand before we cross!” 

Tying your shoes

Sometimes we leave the house in a rush and forget the most important thing. Tying our shoes! But with our trusty boyfriend, Cove, he always does it for you! He would stop you, kneel down and tap his knee, signaling you to put your foot on it so he could tie your shoes properly. 

He always checks if you tie your shoes or not. Cove doesn’t want you to trip and fall for other people. See what I did there?? No? Okay anyway if you do fall for some reason, he’ll be there to sweep you off your feet. 

Whenever he finishes tying your shoes, Cove would stand back up and look into your eyes with a shiny smile. You question him and he points at his cheek, blue eyes shining even brighter. 

He wants a reward from saving you from any falls you could’ve had in the future! Cove wants a kiss. From you. Either on the lips or cheek, he’s not a picky person. 

“Here, let me tie your shoes for you.”

Always offering you food

Even though Cove loves shoving food in his mouth and swallowing it in one go, he never forgets to offer you some. Doesn’t matter if the snack is small and it’s not enough to feed two people, Cove will walk over and ask if you want a bite.

If you offer him food he’ll be floored and open his mouth as you spoon feed him your meal. He’ll be happy with whatever you feed him a tiny crumb, a vegetable he doesn’t like, reluctantly, he’ll eat that.

Drinks! Drinks are included in the equation. 

Even though Cove wants to sip on the refreshing slurpy, he will make sure you have the first zip without fail. 

Cove blushes at the thought of the indirect kiss whenever you put your lips on any of his utensils he eats with. Even though ya’ll are already dating. He still gets flutters from you. 

“Want a bite, (Name)?”

Forehead goodbye kisses 

Whenever you or Cove are running late or have to leave for a few hours, Cove will pull you towards him and plant a kiss on your forehead.

Has become a routine for you both to never leave without you receiving Cove’s kiss before heading out to work. Honestly, it’s the best way to start off the day and he hopes that it never changes.

But when you’re in a rush, you sometimes forget to receive that kiss and that brings down Cove’s morning. He pouts and waits for you to return so you can pepper your face with kisses to makeup for the one you missed in the morning. 

You’re sorry but you can’t complain from the kiss onslaught so it’s a win-win

“Oh you’re leaving right now? Let me kiss your forehead!” 

“I miss you..” texts throughout the day

This kinda goes with the ‘goodbye kisses’ 

Cove texts you throughout the day that he misses you. He sends one not even a minute of you leaving the house you both lived in. 

He’ll send a text saying that he ‘craves to cuddle you’ when you leave to take a shit. 

It’s really cute until he starts spamming you while you’re in a meeting, your embarrassed face sputtering out apologies towards your workers. 

“Heyy, i miss u :(“ 

♡ ♡ ♡

A/N: Heyy ya'll I got another one for you hehe but I kinda rushed at the end because its late and im tired

#cove holden x reader #our life beginnings & always #cove holden #x reader #our life: beginnings & always #oattslovewrites

[collecting-stories]

Sweet Nothing - Carmen Berzatto

Request: I love Taylor inspired fics!! And I adore your writing style!! Maybe The Last Time or Sweet nothings for Carmy X reader?

Summary: No plot really, just Carmy and reader hanging out.

A/N: This is really more of a drabble style without much depth outside of just fluff. I tried to make it longer there's just not much of a plot to work with to do that I feel like. Also I made a delicious vegan clam chowder the other night for dinner, on a side note.

TS Anthology Series | The Bear Masterlist

...you're in the kitchen humming...

The worst part of dating a chef was the one thing that everyone always assumed would be the best part. He could cook, naturally, and Carmy could cook better than a whole lot of other really talented chefs but that didn't mean he cooked at home. Running a restaurant meant being at work more than he was home and usually, by the time he got back at night, neither of you were particularly interested in cooking anything that required greater skill than boiling water. Sometimes even that was too much. Your family, and your friends too, always commented on how lucky you were to have a 'personal chef' as if Carmy was just in the kitchen 24/7, waiting for you to tell him what you wanted to eat. You always laughed and agreed but what you wanted to say was that sometimes he didn't even want to look at a pan or a knife when he was home. 

This week, especially, felt like hell. You'd seen him for thirty minutes two days ago when you stopped in for lunch but otherwise you were what your grandmother described as 'two ships passing in the night'. You didn't think you could really count passing out next to his already asleep body on the queen mattress you kept meaning to replace an actual relationship. It wasn't always so bad, sometimes it was better, most of the time it felt worse. The Bear was getting ready to launch and Carmy's attention was hyperfocused on not failing before he started and you were busy with your own work load and neither of you had ever been willing to cave on work, even if it meant actually spending time with each other. Which was maybe why your relationship worked...or maybe it was some sort of 'once in a blue moon' that your relationship worked because at this point you were shocked that neither of you had called it off. Of course, that would require seeing each other...probably. 

"You know my first thought was that someone broke into our apartment and was cooking dinner," you announced, stopping in the kitchen entryway. Carmy turned to look over his shoulder at you, blue eyes a little glazed over (either from lack of sleep or that happy sort of numbness that came from being home and not having to see anyone, Richie, for the rest of the day). 

"Was this person like, a robber...like a robber just cooking you dinner?" He asked, a rare smile appearing. God, he couldn't remember the last time he smiled this week. Or last week. 

"They weren't making me dinner, just in general, making dinner. They broke in, got hungry, made a sandwich or something, and then...like they'd steal my laptop or something." You replied, pulling your sweater over your head before crossing the small space the apartment provided to kiss your boyfriend, "granted I'm glad it's you and not a robber."

"You said you were home early today," he replied, turning back to the food he was cooking as you walked into the bedroom to change. 

"I know, but that was like, one in the morning and you literally gave me a thumbs up without even lifting your hand off the bed in response so...wasn't exactly counting on you coming home," you explained, changing into sweatpants and a t-shirt, anything to get out of the clothes you'd been wearing all day, "besides I didn't mean it in a like, you have to come home because I'm home, just like a 'hey I'm actually going to be home today' kind a thing." 

"Richie's training this week and everything else is pretty much getting there."

"Oh well, pretty much getting there? Call Cicero, you can open tomorrow," you teased, "since you're not a robber and you are making me dinner, what are you making?"

"Clam chowder," he said, sounding almost like he didn't believe it himself. He wasn't exactly a big fan of soups, mostly because he found them boring and limited, but you loved them. Especially when cold weather hit and then all you wanted was some soup and grilled cheese and extra bread. When he'd made fun of you for your tastes once you had shrugged and told him you couldn't help it if your tastes were basic ("I didn't go to the CIA or NOMA or whatever. I like what I like").

"Clam chowder? Are you shitting me?" You asked, peering over his shoulder into the pot he had on the stove.

"I am not, in fact, shitting you." He replied. 

"Insane," you hooked your arms around his stomach and leaned against his back, not at all concerned about the fact that he was still technically cooking, "you're like the best boyfriend ever, have I ever told you that?"

"You tell me that every time I cook for you which seems like maybe you're only using me..." He joked. You kissed the back of his neck and then his cheek when he turned his head to the side, forcing another smile from him. 

It was hard to comprehend sometimes, to the point that Carmy literally had to remind himself, that the home the two of you had created (though hectic and sometimes not occupied) was genuinely the most calming place he'd ever been. Growing up with his mom and dad, and even Mikey and Sugar, had been like living on a landmine, waiting for it to explode on him if he made a wrong move. It never felt like that here, even when the outside world started to feel like that. 

"Do you need help?" You asked, letting him go and moving to the bar cart you had in the living room, in search of a good wine. 

"Nah, I'm almost done," he replied, "did I tell you about the gas line?"

You held a glass out to him, taking a long sip of your own, "no, what happened with the gas line?" 

Carmy started to retell the story, moving around the kitchen easily while you took a seat and listened to him, allowing him to capture your entire attention. The busy schedules and the barely seeing each other and the stress felt like it would crush you sometimes but it was entirely worth it to be able to come home early, at least every once in a while, and just sit there, listening to Carmy. 

#carmy x reader #carmy x you #carmy x y/n #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x y/n #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto imagine #carmy fic #carmy fluff #carmy imagine #the bear imagine #the bear fanfiction #the bear fic #the bear fluff

[exhausted-archivist]

Art Used in the Dragon Age: Official Cookbook: Tastes of Thedas

While there was some new art, previously seen concept art, there was also the use of ending credit slides. Some possibly denoting certain world states that I briefly referred to in the master post here.

I've split it into sections of:

New Art

Previously Shown Art

Character Art and Slides

General World State Ending Slides

Everything is going below the cut because this will be long. I will also note which page and recipe each image accompanies in the book for easy reference. (Here's to hoping tumblr doesn't mess with the image layout.)

Edit 10/30/2023: Added the page numbers that were missed because it glitched out and deleted things when I tried to go over 30 images and didn't notice till now.

New Art

Page numbers from top left to right going down:

Orlesian Woman: Sour Cherries in Cream, p. 121, Tevinter Pumpkin Bread, p. 151

Building Etching: Crow Feed, p. 43, Antivan Sip-Sip, p. 161

Spider Design: Posion Stings, p. 115

Sea Creature: Lamprey Cake, p. 147

Smoking Meat Racks: Smoked Ham from the Anderfels, p. 95

Antaam Spearman: Unidentified Meat, p. 37

Admiral Isabela: The Hissing Drake, p. 157

Etching of Bowl: Rivaini Couscous Salad, p. 19

Etching of Platter: Nevarran Blood Orange Salad, p. 13

Table Setting: Goat Custard, p. 127

Red Bear: Conversion Charts, p. 172

Giant: Lamprey Cake, p. 149

Blue Building: About the Authors and Photoghraphers, p. 175

Mabari and Army: Roasted Turkey with Sides, p. 99

These are all new images with three of these looking to be concept art: the presumably Orlesian woman looking at Andrastian themed items, the antaam spearman preparing to throw a spear, and the table setting of what looks like it might be for Rivain or Tevinter based on the aesthetic. Though I lean more Tevinter due to the snake on the basket.

The bowl and platter look to maybe be prop designs, and they are distinctly bird themed with what looks like feathers around the base of the bowl and then mirrored crows on either side of the platter with a dagger etched in the center.

The red bear shown here is new, though it is similar to a mural in Dragon Age: Inquisition in the barn where there is a green-ish bear with stars on its muzzle breathing what might be fire, while holding the white silhouette of a figure with antlers. (Couldn't attach it due to there being a photo limit.)

Then to further note that the dark blue building image looks similar to some concept art/Development images from Dragon Age: Dreadwolf (DA4)

Previously Shown Art

The piece below have been shown elsewhere before, but there are some new additions so I am showing it here separately from the new art.

Ferelden Spread: Roasted Wyvern, p. 85

This is was first shown in The Art of Dragon Age: Inquisition and is labeled as "Fereldan Fineries". It was coloured and lacked the two figures in the back left of this image. (Below)

Character Art

Cole and Maryden: The Emerald Valley, p. 169

Sera: Sera's Yummy Corn, p. 103

The Iron Bull and Krem: Hot Chocolate, p. 159

Varric and Aveline: Varric's Favorite Pastries, p. 143

Josephine and Inquisitor: Fish Chowder, p. 59

Leliana: Grilled Poussin, p. 77

Cullen: Croissants, p. 137

Morrigan and Keiran: Nettle Soup, p. 65

King Alistair: King Alistair's Lamb and Pea Stew, p. 67

These were mostly character specific ending slides you could get in DAI, going from the top left to right they are slides for: Trespasser: Human Cole ending up with Maryden. Trespasser: Partial image of a slide for an Inquisitor who agrees to become a red jenny with Sera and the Inquisition is disbanded. Trespasser: Iron Bull and the Chargers are alive and taking jobs throughout Orlais and Ferelden. Trespasser: Varric is Viscount Trespasser: Josephine, her personal quest completed. This is the romanced Josephine version. Trespasser: Leliana, not Divine Trespasser: Cullen, having not taken lyrium during Inquisition Inquisition: Morrigan and Keiran leaving Skyhold World of Thedas vol 2: King Alistair

Ending Slides

Antaam Slide: Lentil Soup, p. 63

Halamshiral Slide: The Hanged Man's Mystery Meat Stew, p. 57

Grey Warden Slide: Sweet and Sour Cabbage, p. 61

Disbanded Inquisition Slide: Sugar Cake, p. 145

These were all ending slides you could get at some point in Inquisition, from the top left to right: Trespasser: The Qunari threat Inquisition: Kicked out of Halamshiral with low approval Inquisition: Grey Wardens were kept in southern Thedas to rebuild, they are estranged from the Wardens in Weishaupt Trespasser: The Inquisition was disbanded

Final Thoughts and Implied World State

Overall the world state makes a lot of sense I think, they went with the one that would be less quantum - so no one is dead or could be dead and is in an important role; hence Cassandra being Divine,

Summary

Inquisition is disbanded

Grey Wardens are divided; though as of the comics and Tevinter Nights we know regardless all Wardens have been called back to Weisshaupt. Unclear if the civil war mentioned in DAI is actually happening.

Morrigan has Kieran and he doesn't have the old god soul anymore

Cole is human

Josephine had her personal quest done.

Leliana wasn't killed in Origins, she is fully human and now retired.

Alistair is king

Cassandra is Divine, no clear answer on the state of the Seekers.

Cullen is retired and established the sanctuary for former templars.

#dragon age #dragon age official art #dragon age tastes of thedas #da: tot #josephine #josephine montilyet #morrigan #cullen #cullen rutherford #the iron bull #krem #sera #leliana #cole #varric #varric tethras #alistair #king alistair #alistair theirin #isabela

[punk-in-docs]

🎃Trick? or Treat?🎃

Summary: Eddie’s friends don’t actually believe you’re really dating him, and they require some proof. Cause no way has the freak scored a girl like you- 3k- a dirty funky little drabble really…

Reader is related to my Eddie Series. Come take a look-

“There is no way. There’s just no way.” Dustin piped up. Dismissing it with a shake of his curly head.

“Agreed.” Mike pitched in, solidly. “I don’t buy it.”

They’re talking to each other like you aren’t even there.

“It’s gotta be a set up.” Comes Gareth’s opinion. Nodding as he points his fork at Mike. A wedge of yellow fruit speared on the end.

“A bet right?” Says Jeff. Crossing his arms and eyeing you up, like he’s waiting for the punchline.

You were currently sat at the Hellfire table, so dubbed the freaks’ spot by the jocks, in the canteen.

It was Fall. Inside there were paper streamers looped about the walls in twisting orange and black. Cardboard cut-out Jack-o-lanterns and skulls sneer from the walls.

Outside was a mucky amalgamation of Indiana Fall. Bone chilling rain and sticky brown-gold leaves, that had come off the trees days earlier. The huge windows in here misty muggy and smeared condensation with rain knifing down the glass the other side. The sky is dark grey, all bruised, and heaving with chowder thick clouds.

Droopy paper halloween decorations are tacked everywhere in this space that smells like stale pepperoni pizza. Hand made felt tip posters are tacked up on every surface for the ‘Fright Night’ party happening in the gym.

Now you were looking down the table at five very concerned faces. All of whom were waiting for you to spill the truth.

Quite frankly, they’re all looking at you like you’re Judas Iscariot at a disciples reunion.

Your eyes darted around from person to person.

They don’t believe you exist. They can’t believe it.

They cannot buy that you’re dating the curly haired scarecrow that is their metal headed Hellfire Leader. Your Eddie.

Who at this moment had dashed out in the rain to the parking lot with his black hoodie yanked over his wild hair, cause he left his lighter in his van.

And cause you’d left your chapstick in there in the glove compartment. And well, he did offer to retrieve it for you. Such a Prince.

“What part of are you guys having trouble understanding?” You ask as you reach in your bag for your book, and your brown paper bag of home made lunch. Chicken salad sandwich and a bag of chips. Extra large portions. You knew who would be stealing half your lunch.

Your chunky blue sweater slides off one shoulder. Revealing a lilac bra strap and a definite indication of a grape-purple hickie nestled in the crook your neck. The mystery continues.

“It’s gotta be fake. You’re like, dating a jock or something, aren’t you?” Jeff narrows his eyes at you like you’re a suspect.

Your gaze is packed in snow. Something razor cold skimmed off the Arctic Ocean.

“I take offence at that, dweeb.” You lob your eraser at his head.

That move is eerily similar to… someone else.

You hold your hand out, palm up to him, with a thundering frown. He throws your pink eraser back.

“But you’re-“ Mike starts. Then his tongue stunts itself.

You pause. Brows shooting up your head.

“I’m what, Wheeler?” Your tone invites him to think very carefully about his next words.

“You’re a girl.” He splutters.

“Hey. Only on the outside, kid.” You wink and click your tongue at him. Grinning. Widening your eyes. You learnt that from someone else too. The Kubrick stare.

“No- you’re, like. You’re a girl, girl. Like, you’re popular and. Normal? You get good grades. You’re friends with Jonny Lopez’ girlfriend. You’re going to like, a big league college.”

“I wouldn’t say popular. And we’re not entirely like friends. She just sort of bitches at me, and I occasionally give her a ride to school.” You shrug honestly.

“And hey excuse me, I’m not normal.” You point out. “I was reliably told this was the table that celebrates being ‘not normal’ anyhow.” you curl your fingers with air quotes.

They shrink down a little with that point. “Well yeah- actually.” and a chorus of shuffles, awkward coughs, and agreeing grunts comes your way.

“Good. Cause if I wanted to be ordinary I’d go sit at that table over there.” You nudge your head across the way where Jonny and Linda are sitting.

He’s telling some stupid macho story about a keg party to his fellow guffawing gorillas. She was busy chewing gum, not listening and painting her nails slutty cherry red.

“Did he pay you to do this?” Dustin asks. “Like $20 bucks if you come sit over here and prank the nerds.”

You slowly crunch a chip on your tongue and shoot him a spiky look. “Careful, Henderson.”

“Who paid who, to what, to the nerds?” Bursts a new voice into the conversation.

Quite possibly your favourite voice ever.

Eddie thumps himself down on his throne at the end of the table. Nudges his chair right up close to yours.

He’s flicking rain drips off his hoodie, some beaded down his leather arms. Some still clung to his big dark doe lashes and his messy bangs now growing wonkily down into his eyes. You’d seen him loping into the trailer bathroom the other day with a cigarette on the go, and a pair of scissors to just whack at those bangs. Messy as fuck.

A few rolling rain drips are still skating down his forehead. Soggy black sleeves nudge your chapstick into your palm on the table. He shakes off the rain like a wet dog.

Eddie drops a kiss on your head. A soft “Mwah” before he takes his seat. His hair hanging on your nose smelling like your dreamy coconut conditioner, because he’d spent the night at yours last night.

Neither of you got much sleep, naturally. You were sore in places you didn’t know could be sore. That boy was a sexual menace.

“Dude. We were just talking about your not girlfriend here.” Gareth pointed out. Jeff was deciding to take a cowardly out and hide behind a comic book.

Eddie tilts his head at the guy. Winding his cold knuckles through yours. Right there on the table top. Skin chilled from the rain.

“Is that a challenge in that sentence I’m hearing?” He asks with a stormy edge to his expression.

Eddies gaze could be lethal if he willed it to be. Shredding metal he could cut you on. These geeks rarely wanted to be in the ireful wrath of their leader’s disapproval.

“There’s no way you’re dating! It’s a hoax!” Dustin exclaims, loud. Laying his hands on the table in emphasis. Almost rising out his seat.

Eddie flicks those dark eyes to his curly haired companion.

“Alright punk. What about this are you struggling to get through your little head?” He barks out.

“How about, I don’t know, all of it. The fact she’s sat eating here. The fact you’re supposedly dating…” Sinclair lays out.

“Stop putting adverbs and negatives before the word dating.” You scowl at them.

Eddie chuckles, sneers and slings an arm around your shoulders. Looping you right close to him. You’re munching your lunch and smiling as he brings you in closer.

“Is it cause I’m so hot and so so way out of her little arty girl indie state league? I know. Poor baby girl, she can’t help that.” He coos.

You twist your head and his smirk is right there. Would be a shame not to kiss it. You lean in and peck him on the mouth sweetly.

When you pull away the pair of you take great delight in the shock still on their faces.

Eddie nuzzles his nose into your neck to make you squirm. Then he sits there with his chin on your shoulder. Opening his mouth like a little baby bird when he wants you to feed him chips. You do and he bites and sucks on the salty ends of your fingers.

“Seriously Henderson, You couldn’t shell out the amount of money required to fake constantly wrangling this one’s humungous ego.” You pat Eddie’s cheek three times.

“Not the only humungous thing she has to wrangle.” Eddie leers. Does that curling devil tongue at you. Tries to shove his tongue in your ear. You laugh and bat him away.

“No. No. Gross.” Says Mike. Shaking his shaggy head.

“….Plus serious compensation would be required for anyone to sleep in his flea pit of a bedroom.” You tell. Eyes turned down towards your book.

Eddie reached over you with his free hand and pawed at your chip packet for more. Scooped up your sandwich and stole a bite. Extra crispy bacon. Lettuce, Chicken mayo and that spicy mustard he likes- oh he was in love.

“Hey, I tidied it up for you, pencils. I put clean sheets on the bed. Made sure you could see the floor.” He spoke through chewing. Cheeks full. Sucking a glob of mustard off his thumb.

And yet, they’re all sat there looking at you like you’re selling bullshit.

“Alright you little assholes.” You clap and dust your hands off. Some of them actually jump back. Flinching.

Eddies staring at you with literal red bursting heart eyes watching you get irate with his table full of nerds.

You’re sat here all puppy love bundled up with him. Cupid arrow pink kinda gooey love, enshrined with little hearts squished above the i’s. Surrounded by pink ribbons and fucking bluebirds. Mushy love like a damn Carpenter’s song, and you’re so fused together at the hip bones. Like it actually hurts to break apart.

They’re still not buying it.

“What will it take to convince you, that we, are a real thing?” You nudge your thumb at you and Eddie.

They eye you shrewdly. Mike is the first soldier over the top the face the clattering guns.

“What’s his favourite band?” He fires out. Twisting towards you. All elbows and angles and those Wheeler nuclear-family enviable cheekbones.

“Bandsss plural.” You correct. “Metallica, Black Sabbath, Megadeath, Iron Maiden, W.A.S.P, Judas Priest, and Van Halen...”

“Don’t you dare do it.” Eddie warns to that naughty gleam in your eye. “They’ll never look at me the same.”

The guys lean in all interested.

“… And Dolly Parton. Especially Jolene.” They descend into laughing uproar. Eddie throws chips at Sinclair who was cackling.

They were never to know you two hollered along to that at the top of your lungs, on the drive to school in the summertime. Windows open. Hair flying. Shades on. Soupy sunshine and enjoying another cloying Indiana July.

That was the month you’d met this gorgeous creature. Watching fireflies come out laying in the long cool grass at the trailer park, sharing a joint. You in a gossamer sundress the colour of blushing peonies. It was like a way too good fever dream. Hazy days and deep purple sticky summer midnights.

“Favourite food?” Comes the next.

“His favourite meal is a chilli dog, with jalapeño loaded dirty fries with everything, and I mean everything, on it, and one of those strawberry mega monster shake things you get at the diner over on Admiral. He also loves sour candy, like a ridiculous amount. Sour patch kids, nerds, jolly ranchers.”

Eddie who was eating next to you frowned through chewing your sandwich down. The whole thing was nearly gone. Your half was looking pretty tasty too.

“I also know he doesn’t really have a great sense of a varied diet. He won’t eat for hours and then he’ll scarf it down in five seconds like a seagull. Case in point-“ Wave your hand across at him. Like you were presenting him.

“Hey-“ He mumbled. Mouth stuffed with almost all your sandwich.

“All in all, Bottomless void when it comes to food. Runs almost entirely on nicotine and caffeine. Or gas station beef jerky, and out of date mini powdered doughnuts.” You finish.

“Celebrity crush?” Dustin points a finger at you.

“Eartha Kitt. In her skin tight Catwoman costume.” You smile sultrily. “Next?”

“Damn.” Jeff laughed.

“Favourite subject?”

Oh you scoff.

“DND. Obviously. He hates science and math. But he’s actually shockingly good at English. He’s a reader. Reads more comics and fantasy books, than anyone I know. If you can’t find him, guaranteed he’s in the fantasy section.”

“Wow dude, really?” Gareth asks.

Eddie actually blushed.

“It’s actually pretty cute. You know Mrs Coulter, the elderly librarian? Yeah. They exchange Xmas cards. She properly dotes on him. Adorable. Calls him Edward.” You chuckle.

“No way-“ Dustin grins. Giggling. “Edward.” He preens. Cheeks all squidgy with his smile.

Eddie flicks a gaze over at you. It’s almost edgy, but he’s smiling. He’ll remember that- for later on.

“Henderson, I will jam that fork in your eye.”

You overlap the violence and pat the back of your boyfriends hand. Nudge your lunch towards him as a consolation prize.

“He’s just terrible at being forced to read and write stuff. Nonconformer in him really rails against being told what to do.” You lay out nodding.

Cause that was kinda a given where he’s concerned.

“Oh, oh, I know. Favourite movie…” Jeff clicks his fingers at you.

“Friday 13th. The Goonies when he’s stoned out his crazy brain.” You pat Eddie’s head affectionately as you speak.

“Ok those are fairly standard. How about a random trivia round?…” Dustin decides very loudly. Slamming his fist down on the table top. Almost knocking over Mikes can of tab. Jesus Dustin. Watch it man-

You roll your eyes and think. You also shut your book cause you know you won’t be cramming for your English test with the current inquisition going on.

“What does Eddie hate… what are some of his dislikes.”

“Jocks. Uh, He uhm, hates mushrooms on his pizza. Picks the pickles out his burger. He prefers winter to summer. Cuts all the scratchy labels out his clothes cause they annoy the hell out of him. Gets hay fever pretty bad. He thinks playing or watching sports is dull as shit. He can’t stand CCR, or mint chocolate chip ice cream.”

“I’m sorry but no ice cream should taste like toothpaste. It’s sick.” Eddie whines.

“He has little scars on his back that he likes to claim are scratches from sex.” You begin.

“Yeah he’s showed those us a lot. It’s sickening.

“Okay, wait til I tell you that he actually got them from falling ass first into my moms rose bush when he was sneaking in through my bedroom window one night.”

“I brought you chicken noodle soup when you were on the very verge of death. Pencils.” Eddie defends.

You turn and catch his pouty little eyes as he leans into you.

“He thinks I don’t know that he sometimes feeds the trailer park strays. Leaves out a can of tuna and bowls of water for them. Has given most of them metal names.”

Holy shit. Eddie makes this face at you like he’s in awe of all the little things you’d grasped about him. Made his stomach feel all slippy and gooey. Yeah. This is definitely love, kid.

“Awhh.”

Eddie snaps his eyes across to his friend who dares make that noise. He picked up the fork closest to him. Shooting feral eyes.

“Oh, He’s named his van.”

“Pencils.” He warns.

“Shut up.” Mike counters. “What is it?”

“Galadriel.” You chirp all sunny.

Dustin looks so happy.

“You’re single handedly ruining my reputation here, honey.”

You lean in and smack a kiss on the end of his nose.

“You have a sex rep I don’t know about, Munson?” You raise one brow. Up in his face about it. That jumper sliding down a silky skinned shoulder he wants to nose at. Call a spade a spade. He wants to bite it. Soothe the bite with his tongue and hear you coo oh, Eddie.

“Not in front of the halflings, Baby. They’re fresh faced and innocent right out the shire.” He dotes at you.

“Hey we’ve seen some shit.” One of them defends

“Not talking about a DND campaign you little pipsqueak.” Eddie smirks.

His hand is sliding around the waistband of your hip. Scooping around your back and pulling you to him. Clutching at his leathered shoulders and your thighs guided sideways over his lap. He snatched you right out your seat.

“Children avert your gaze. Some very 18+ activities are about to happen here.” Eddie warns them as his hands smooth up your jumper. Over your hips and back. He growls when he gets his ring clad fingers clutching your ass through your jeans.

“Ok, I really didn’t need to see that.”

“Buckle up, Pencils.” He whispers into your ear and brushed his tongue over your pulse.

“I’m going for public indecency to prove a point to these assholes.”

Then he seals his lips across yours and pushes his tongue into your mouth, as with any wild Eddie kiss, you melt. You feel his jaw open.

Your spine uncurls and slopes down your body like jello. It’s a movie star kiss that demanded Dolby technicolour and surround sound. A swooning kiss off the silver screen that could curl toes, and bloom whole fields of daisies.

You grasp his hair and reel him in. Kiss him back all spitty and wet to prove a point, and you’re not shy about shoving your tongue in his mouth. He moans.

You scratch his scalp. He sucks your bottom lip like you’re a delicacy. It’s way too much. So filthy. Fucking beautiful is what it is.

Then you feel his wicked, wicked hand pinging dangerously at your bra clasp. Snapping it to your skin. He bites his lip when he pulls back and shoots you those sultry black bedroom eyes.

“This is the one I hate getting off isn’t it? The goddamned purple one.” He says all lusty as he rubs the tip of his nose into yours. Your cheeks are so hot. Blood lava hot pushing in your face.

“You’re a trooper. Munson. You’ll figure it out.” You tell him with a teasing voice that you can feel makes his dick throb under your thighs.

“Can’t wait to get in those panties, later.”

“I’ve got art class after school. Come by around eight. Moms out tonight.” You flirt. Which means takeout, and suffocating, hands wandering, kisses, til you can’t remember which way is up or down. And so much Eddie. It feels like you’ll burst with love of him.

His lips taste like sugary tab and, now, your chapstick. Ash swirls on his breath from his last smoke. He’ll be itching for another one soon. Maybe you’ll sneak away and join him. Make out for the remainder of lunch time.

“Good. I really love it when you can scream loud when I bury my face in your pus-“ You clap your hand over his mouth.

“They don’t need chapter and verse. Baby.”

Eddie responds by licking a big hot stripe up your palm.

“You know, guys, maybe they’re not faking it.”

“Please, people are trying to eat here!”

“I’m definitely gonna barf.”

~

#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie my boy #EDDIE DESERVED BETTER #EDDIE MY BELOVED #eddie drabble #wrote this in like half an hour lol #its silly #eddie feels #eddie x reader #eddie x oc #eddie x pencils ride again #love #lovers #fake dating #dustin henderson #welcome to hellfire #hellfire club #mike wheeler #jeff & gareth

[casp1an-sea]

MY HCs OF PRINCE RIEL’S SIBLINGS

Picrew is not mine: sushicore!

Atlas: Based on Attina

Male, He/him

(29)Atlas is the heir to the throne of the Coralsea so he’s never left the Coralsea. He has an Orangey-Red tail and orange fins. He’s the oldest most mature and kind of a mom for all the siblings.

Antoinette: Based on Alana

Female, She/Her

(26)Antoinette also lives in the Coralsea and has never left. She has a knack for fashion and always puts in great care to looking her best. She has a purple tail and pink fins.

Allegra: Based on Adella

Female, She/Her

Age: 24

Height: 5’8”/173 cm

Birthday: July 2nd (Cancer)

Likes: scrapbooking about attractive land dwellers

Dislikes: not getting to finish her dreams or her day dreams being interrupted

Favorite Food: Sashimi

Least Favorite Food: Clam Chowder

Talent: match making (self proclaimed)

Allegra decided to go to land after graduating from school she got a job cohosting for reality shows on the TV show network “Once Upon A Dream” so she’s somewhat of a celebrity. She has a crush on her costar Alceé Bordelon. She’s bubbly and outgoing totally obsessed with romance. She’s a hopeless romantic. Her hair is naturally curly. She has a yellow tail. Her favorite color is lime green.

Aaliyah: Based on Aquata

Female, She/Her

(20) She is recently graduated from RSA. She’s doing a part time teaching job there while she figures out what she wants to do in life. She’s quite shy and sweet. She likes staying in and reading books. She secretly likes going out and dancing but she’s notably very bad at it even in the water. She’s quite close to her younger brother. She still sleeps with her pink stuffed seahorse Mr. Fuzzyfinkel (when atlas doesn’t steal it) she has a blue tail.

Alabaster: Based on Arista

Trans Male, He/him

(disclaimer I have an Alabaster bias because Arista is my fav and I also played her in a musical 👉👈)

(19)Alabaster is a Seinor at RSA he’s adventurous and silly, and he loves music. He’s very similar in personality to Riel but he doesn’t get away with as much because he’s not his dad’s favorite and he’s kind of intimidated by him. He breaks the rules when he thinks he can, but at the same time, is very anxious about it. When he came to RSA he wanted to learn a whole bunch of instruments and is currently working on the saxophone. He’s very close with Aaliyah and is constantly stealing her stuff much to her frustration. He’s also really the only sibling Reil hangs around. Riel hangs out more with his friends than his siblings. He has a red tail and rose colored fins.

Aria: Based on Andrina

(FYI I am the head of the Aria hate club so you are very welcome and expected to hate her)

Female, She/Her

(18) Aria is a Junior. She tried to get into both RSA and NRC but didn’t make it into either so she goes to Somercrest Academy instead. She was one of Azul’s Bullies through Elementary and Middle school. Still picks at him if they ever cross paths. She also is obsessed with Floyd and Quite in love with him. He despises her. In middle school she made a deal to give up her good voice to Azul in exchange for a pretty fin to impress a boy. After the contracts were sanded in book 3 she likewise got her voice and old fin back. She’s also a total gossip and kinda sucks at magic.

she doesn’t really have a reason for bullying people, other than she can. As a princess, she feels really entitled, and it really gets to her head.

—————————————————————————

as you can see, some of them are far more flushed out than others. You’re welcome to suggest things to me for ones that aren’t complete, which is basically all of them, except for Allegra cause I used her in a story lol

Reply if your part of the Aria hate club <3

—————————————————————————

@xen-blank @thehollowwriter @ferris-the-wheel @fizzydreamz @hyperfixation-or-death

@ravenwing0110 @keii-starz @distant-velleity

@krenenbaker @elenauaurs @the-banana-0verlord @edith-is-a-cat @dove-da-birb

@cimonim-crunch

#cas’s ocs #twisted wonderland #original character #fingers crossed they never reveal them in canon #little mermaid #mer sisters #6 in one! Woo!

[weirdwizardofoz]

Nsfw wedding night with medic? (She/her reader, AFAB if applicable)

There's not a lot to go off of but I will see what I can do, lol! This was hard and took me forever and re-writing it like... 5 times, lmao!

Not proofread

TW: Oral (fem receiving), fingering (fem receiving), saliva used as lube, slight masturbation (Medic), steamy kisses, neck kisses, neck biting, slightly rough, no condom (wrap it before you slap it), reader pied (iykyk), mentions of aftercare, bad writing, if I missed anything tell me.

You giggled as you and your husband stumbled into your private room of the place you rented for the day. Releasing the hand of your now husband you shuffle over to the chair your replaced dress and shoes were for dancing so you didn't possibly ruin your wedding dress and so you didn't have to be in your heels longer then necessary.

You reach your arms behind you, one reaching up and the other reaching over your chowder blades to try and free yourself. You peer behind you to your husband who is already topless, messing with his buckle now.

"Honey, can you do me a favor and undo my dress please?" He chuckles ever so softly and heads your way.

You lower your arms as he undoes the dress and helps it over your head, trying his best to not smudge your makeup. Once it's off, leaving you in a matching bra and panty set with a matching guarder belt keeping your white thigh highs up, the band of them squeezing them enough to leave some flesh to pop out slightly over the edge, he puts it back into its protective bag and on the hangers and puts it back up. You smile and place a hand on the back of the chair, lifting a leg and bending down slightly to remove your shoe, but before you can even touch it you feel two warm and large hands on your sides.

"Liebling, I helped you out of your dress, allow me to help you with your shoes now." You giggle as Medic lifts you up and gently places you on the bed.

A soft blush tints your face as he gently moves his hands from your waist, down your hips, thighs, and then grabs one of your ankles while on one knee. Using his other hand he gently removes the heel, placing it down he then goes to the other foot, doing the same thing.

The blush darkens as you notice his bright blue-grey eyes looking up at you through his lashes, hunger festering deep within them. He places his large hands on your thighs and slides them up to your hips, pulling you closer to the edge of the bed.

"You know... seeing you like this... it's making me crazy... I'm not sure if you put these on to match with the outfit or if you were planning this... whichever it was... you look absolutely... divine..." you shiver as he quite literally growls out the last word, biting your lower lip lightly as you notice he keeps glancing at the treasure between your thighs.

You open your legs more, holding back a pathetic moan as he tightens his grip on you slightly, Smirking up at you. He moves his hands to your thighs, softly kneeding and gripping at the soft flesh in a way that slightly shows more of your clothed sex, a small damp spot in his sight

"Liebling, I know there's a large cake waiting for us, but may I enjoy the delicious treat right here?" He questions, chuckling darkly as you whisper out a little "yes".

He huffs in either amusement or pity in how embarrassingly horny you are, you'll never know.

You gasp lightly when his lower teeth lightly grazing your clit, lowering your panties with his mouth to tease you, letting the lacey cloth fall to the ground when he releases them, slowly making his way back up to your sopping cunt. Shivering as he lightly kisses, licks and nibbles on your thighs, his eyes never leaving yours.

"P... please..." you mumble, voice low.

"Please what?" He replies in a mock.

"Please... make me feel good... use me however you'd like..." you chirp, shaking slightly from embarrassment.

A gasp rips through you, jolting forward as his lips latch onto your clit, tongue toying with it and teeth grazing, his long and thick middle finger plunging deep inside your core, curling skillfully and rubbing against the sensitive spot deep within you.

One hand tangling in his hair, pulling at the roots and the other covering your mouth, not wanting the party of people below to hear your sounds of bliss. Your Medic takes note of this and smirks against your bundle of nerves, tongue flattening against it and biting down a little more. He adds a second finger, scissoring, Twisting, and curling more, roughly pushing into the spongey spot inside. You bend forward more, legs lifting slightly and arms wrapping around his head and shoulders. Body twitching and trembling, feeling yourself nearing the edge.

He detaches himself from your bud, replacing his mouth with his thumb, pressing it roughly onto it moving it quick circles, the first gers in your core pressing into the sweet spot over and over making your mind go numb.

"Y/N," he growls "look at me."

You struggle to open your eyes, only able to do so a little bit. He huffs and grabs your face, making you look into his eyes. You shrink and whimper, his face serious, eyes dark with animalistic intent and lust.

"Cum for me when, and ONLY when I remove my fingers and use just my mouth." Tone dark and demanding, you nod and his grip on your chin tightens slightly. "Understood?" He repeats, leaving no room for argument.

"U... Understood..." you reply, moans making your voice crack.

"Good girl..." Medic praises, planting a gentle kiss to your chin as he let's go.

He stops his movements abruptly, lifting his hand to your mouth. You oblige and wrap your lips around his digits, tongue gliding against them. Gagging as he pushes his fingers down your throat, pushing them down against your tongue and hooking his thumb under your chin. He groans at the sight, your eyebrows knit together, eyes shut tight as your mouth hangs slightly open due to him holding onto you, throat convulsing in rejection to his fingers. Your saliva slowly trailing down your chin, dripping onto your clothed chest and lightly leaking onto the back of his hand down his arm.

He reaches down to free his restricted and painfully hard member, he slowly puts his hand into his boxers, gripping at the base of his cock and pulling it free from his restraints. Lightly and slowly pumping it, thumb pressing over his slit to gather some of the clear pre he formed, moving his hand to the tip and pushing it back down to lubricate his shaft.

He lowers his head to look at your cunt, groaning as it twitches and convulses, your slick spread to your thighs and leaving a wet stain on the comforter under you. He licks his lips and slows his motions more, not wanting to finish yet. You choke and gurgle out a moan as his flat tongue slowly licks a strip from your hole, walls clenching around nothing in hopes to be filled.

He pulls slightly on your jaw and you open your eyes, meeting with his. He smirks and bites his lower lip.

"Keep making eye contact with me, only look away or close them when you cum, okay Liebling?" You nod the best you can, eyes focused on his.

Your gaze lowers as he does, pushing his mouth against your fluttering hole as his tongue pushes inside you. Lapping at your sensitivity and slirping at your slick. He growls and you gurgle out more moans as his tongue swirls and jabs at the spot that makes you see stars. It doesn't take long for your eyes to close tight, breathing heavier as the knot in your stomach snaps roughly, climaxing all over his mouth. You whine and whimper, wriggling around as he laps at the fluids, growling and slirping as his tongue digs for it all.

He lifts his head, licking his lips to collect the rest of your juices, removing the hand on his shaft to wipe what his tongue cant reach with his thumb, popping it in his mouth quickly and removes his hand from your mouth. You cough as his hand leaves your face, a thick string of saliva connected to his fingers. He collects it with his forefinger and places the saliva soaked hand onto his shaft, gripping the tip and dragging it down to the base, the sounds of squelching as he lubricates his cock with it.

"Lay down love, I'm not done yet." A shiver runs through you, pushing yourself more onto the bed and turning slightly, you lay down, head resting on the pillows.

He smiles softly and climbs over top of you, aligning his cock with your entrance.

"Are you ready?" He asks, placing his thumb onto your clit again and rubbing lightly.

"Yes Mr. Ludwig." You reply, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling to you for a loving and passionate kiss.

Slowly, he pushes himself inside you, ribbing your ball of nerves lightly to help you relax as his size stretches you out. Your nails dig into his flesh, leaving marks as the pleasure and the burning of his girth overwhelm you. You've had sex before, many times, but his size is something you still haven't adjusted to, and his length can be painful at first.

A moan slips past as his tongue explores your mouth, his cock pushing and pulling slowly inside you, his thumb expertly making circles on your clit, your walls stretching to accommodate him as he pushes deeper inside until he finally hits your cervix, pushing it back slightly as he bottoms put completely. He groans at the feeling of you constricting him so nicely.

"May I move, Mrs. Ludwig?" Giggling you nod as he wraps both of his arms around you, holding you both close together, lips locked perfectly as he thrusts slowly to not hurt you.

The slow drag of his cock making your mind fuzzy and longing for more, you moan and lock your legs around him as best you can in a futile attempt to push him deeper.

"Please... be more rough... I won't break... you know this..." He stares at you in awe, his shaft twitching deep inside you as he sits up, taking you with him, and crosses his legs, moving his hands to the soft fat of your ass.

"As you wish, Liebling." He kisses your neck, biting and marking it as he grinds you against him, the head of his member grinding against your cervix so painfully good.

He lifts you up slightly and drops you back down, your body jolting as moans are ripped put of you forcefully. You bite onto his shoulder as to not scream as he picks up the pace and lifts you up higher, your body instantly slamming back down onto him. His nails digging into the plump flesh, leaving behind red marks.

Eventually he starts lifting you almost completely off him and then pushing you back down harder, thrusting up slightly to meet you somewhere in the middle, the moans and squeals you make spurring him on more and more. You drag your nails across his back and down his shoulders, sobbing and squealing from the sheer pleasure, your mind growing fuzzy as a knot forms in your gut.

"Gonna fucking cu... cum..." broken moans and gasps pouring out of you like a symphony to your new husband, Medic.

"As am I..." He replies, groaning and laying on his back, lifting you up and slamming you back down harder, thrusting up more to meet you with this change of position.

You sit up, placing your hands on his abdomen as he continues the same motion, hitting even deeper inside you causing you both to let out a moan. His pace quickening more as he uses you as his own doll. The tightness in your stomach then breaks as you climax, your walls fluttering and tightening around him as he continues his ministrutions, a ring of your white cream forming on the base of his cock.

He picks you up again, fully off him this time, and uses all his strength to slam your body back down, thrusting as hard and fast as he can. You throw your head back and scream from the ecstacy filling all your senses, losing track of time and no longer caring about the guests below you hearing you. He lifts you up and slams you down again and again, thrusting to meet you more. Your body limp from having just climaxed as more unbearable pleasure fills you.

He slams you down again and your filled with a burning liquid, he thrusts a little more, bouncing your body as more of his climax fills you to the brim, leaking out slightly onto him and the bed below. His grip tightens on you as he holds you tight against his pelvis, grinding you against him, your moans fill the room as the tip of his member is grinding tight against your cervix, filling you more and more as some continues to leak out.

He let's you go as his arms fall to his sides, bangs laying on his sweat slick forehead, you fall on top of him, panting and twitching, the walls of your womanhood convulsing, twitching, and leaking due to his now softening member no longer keeping you plugged. Your head moving in time with his chest as he and you share heavy breaths. His arms wrapping around you gently, massaging your hips and the marks he left behind, one hand sliding up to your shoulder to rub at the teeth marks he dented into your skin.

"Are you alright? Was that okay? Was there anything you didn't like or anything I was too rough with?" He asks, concern evident in his tone.

"I'm fine love, a little sore and I'm sure my cervix is bruised, but I'm fine. You weren't too rough at all, it felt amazing." You reply, kissing his cheek.

"Need water? Food?"

"I'm fine, dear."

"You should use the bathroom, don't want an UTI, and I'll carry you, and while you do that I'll get a warm washcloth to clean you off, sound good Liebling?" You giggle and nod, kissing his cheek many more times.

"Thank you, Dr. Ludwig."

#tf2 x reader #tf2 x you #tf2 medic #tf2 medic x reader #tf2 medic smut #tf2 smut #tf2 medic x y/n #this is my first smut #took me a long time #hope you like it! #requests are open

[burnwater13]

Here we go again. The Mandalorian had not been talking about soup. Or stew. Or chowder. Nope. He’d been talking about the fancy flying it had taken to protect Greef and Cara from Tie fighters. More stinking Tie fighters. 

Grogu was not having it. He was going to call his agent and ask them to make sure that in future merch deals he got final say on the content. He couldn’t keep covering for these people and their odd choices. His fans expected better and he was willing to take the time and make sure that they got it. 

His dad pointed out there was nothing he could do about a product that had already been launched. They’d both promised the production company that they wouldn’t use the Force or any other force to compel changes to things they didn’t like. They would use words. Nice, safe, contractually obligated words. 

Grogu understood all that. It still didn’t make him happy. They could have used a vid of Din and he in the cockpit of the Razor Crest when it was upside down and he had his hands in the air cheering his dad on. Or it could have been a vid of him just sitting in the Razor Crest, all buckled up, looking impressed. It even could have been that one they used already showing how he’d thrown up. 

It didn’t matter that they had used it already. Whoever made this calendar reused certain vids a lot. That would have been no different. Now that was the question. Considering the fact that the calendar used content from two whole seasons of Grogu’s show, which encompassed six hundred and thirty minutes video, you’d think that it would be that hard to 365, or wait, 313 unique stills to use. 

He knew there were vids that the fans really wished had been in the calendar, and they were not all the one where Din Djarin leans back against a building in Mos Pelgo on Tatooine. Nope. 

What about the one where Grogu was walking down the ramp from the Razor Crest and he looked super sad and the fans just cried about that scene because they wanted him to be happy? That would have been great. He could have a very sad story that just tore away at your heart strings and made you cry. But no. They didn’t include that one. 

What about the one where his dad was with IG-11 on Arvala-7 and actually said “There’s too many!”. That sounded absurd, right? When did Din Djarin, Mandalorian bounty hunter, best in the Outer Rim, ever say there were too many bad guys? Never. That’s when. He would have said something like ‘I like those odds’. Now, that would have been a great vid. 

Or the one where the IG-11 and the Mandalorian were walking through the door they had just destroyed and where in silhouette with the bright blue sky of Arvala-7 behind them. That looked really cool. Taika had even commented on that scene when he saw it. 

But no. The merch people did not include that vid. They did include a lot of concept art, which was great. Grogu loved the artists who made all the sketches and paintings and renderings of the adventures as he and Dad explained them to Jon. They were really good at paying attention and putting the in the details. So why was it so hard to have unique images?

“Maybe the studio constrained them,” Din had commented when he heard Grogu grumbling under his breath about it. 

Grogu shook his head emphatically. Why would the studio do that? It was to their benefit that all the merch generate the royalties that they charged for the use of the images for commercial purposes. Plus, the more images in use the more people felt like the product represented the show and the happier the fans would be to buy the next one. Wasn’t that what it was really all about? Happy fans?

“I don’t think you understand how their system works, buddy.” 

That was probably true. There were a lot of things about how this planet worked and did things that Grogu did not understand. He supposed he would figure it all out eventually. His mom told him that it would take time to learn about cultural differences and that some fans might like the repetition.

He had snorted at that. Who liked repetition? It was boring. He wanted new stuff for entertainment purposes as well as for storytelling prompts. 

“Is that why you’ve watched all of the episodes three times at least?” She had asked him while he was dictating this story.

Another snort. Re-watching the show was all about getting the details right. Making sure that his stories fit the narrative that the show covered. Otherwise, he’d get all mixed up and would start talking about how funny Pedro and Amy were on set and that would break the forth wall again and people might figure out that he’d been visiting Earth for a while with his parents and did they really want that?  No, they did not. 

Better for everyone to think this was all Watsonian, even when a good chunk of it was Doylist. If they knew he was here they’d come looking for him and he’d never get a moments peace, or be able to just sit with his mom and dad and have soup again without people realizing that he wasn’t just a cute piece of merch himself. And he didn’t want that. Even for the sake of the fans. He just liked frog soup too much.

#calendar prompt a day #grogu #the mandalorian #din djarin #fourth wall

[i-am-the-doctor]

Red tides a rollin chapter 3 //TW: Surgery, mentions of violence

CHAPTER 3

The lab was peacefully quiet as the sun began to rise into the Louisiana skies, its heavenly rays leaking in through the windows and onto the various equipment and tables, giving the otherwise desolate and sterile laboratory a strangely warm, inviting aura, like a hug from one’s mother. The two scientists, still asleep in their warm cots, moved not one inch-- at least Jonathan did not, for as soon as the warm beams from the sun hit Fredrick’s face, he slowly began to wake up from his slumber, anticipating finding himself in his own comfy bed in his own home in New Arabi, hoping that the loss of his only child was nothing but a nightmare, but unfortunately, this was not the case, for as soon as Fredrick’s eyes fluttered open, he was met with the barely illuminated ceiling and walls of the Baton Rouge lab.

He stayed in his cot for a little while, still trying to gather his senses after his long sleep and trying to keep warm against the winter cold creeping in. He looked over to the other cot where Jonathan was still sleeping, curled up into a little ball, like how a house-cat would sit, drool seeping from the corner of his mouth while his blue glasses were folded and neatly placed beside his pillow. Fredrick couldn’t help but smile at the sight, as old childhood memories of sleepovers began to come back. He remembered how Jonathan would always come over to Fredrick’s house on the weekends, wearing a baggy white cotton sweater, with a big container of cheese balls and a grocery bag of video games for them to play. It was a time when they were just kids and didn’t have to worry about things like spikers or korsa or anything besides getting good grades in school and not getting in trouble- or at least getting caught. How he longed to experience those memories once again, but he knew that those days are long gone, and have been for years now. He’s 43 now, about to turn 44 on March 12, what good would it do to dwell on the past, especially when there is work to be done? Carefully and quietly, he got out of his cot, and stretched before scratching at his beard. He then remembered breakfast, such an important meal. What would they have, Fredrick thought to himself. Was there even anything there for them to eat? He then remembered that he and the rest of his former collegues had put together a ration closet in the event that there was an emergency that required them to stay inside, such as a bomb or a hurricane. He then tip-toed toward a door, vaguely remembering where the closet was, and slowly opened it to find that, sure enough, there it was, and all the rations looked practically untouched, still in their packages and cans. 

“Good, at least we don’t have to run down to no stores or anything” He whispered to himself, pulling the rations out one by one to see what they had, the majority of it being soups like chicken noodle soup, loaded potato soup, clam chowder, and other canned goods like corn, carrots, canned peaches, while some rations were packaged, like classic military MREs, cheese crackers, chicken crackers, chicken ramen noodles, and there was also a 24-pack of bottled water and a 24-pack of Kimberly-Kola. He picked up a can of Kemper Brand chicken noodle soup, planning to eat it, when he remembered that the rations had been there since well around 2025. He wasn’t about to let him or his best friend get food poisoning, so to test it, he cracked open the can with a can-opener, and took a big sip out of the broth. It tasted perfectly fine, nothing that could be considered rotted or rancid in soup standards. At least we know its safe, he thought to himself as he took another bite. Within a moment, the flourescent lights came on and a shadow was looming from behind him, causing him to jump and swiftly turn around to see who- or what- was behind him.

It was only Jonathan, leaning against the threshold of the enterance into the room on his elbow, the light from the bulbs reflecting off of his thin round sapphire blue glasses as he tried his best to shake off his slumber. They said nothing for a couple of seconds, before Jonathan spoke.

“Mm.. morning, Fredrick..” He muttered, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes before noticing what fredrick had.

“Oh, Mornin’, Jonathan! I forgot all about us having this ration closet! We got all kinds of good stuff in here! Chicken noodle soup, Kimberly-Kola, Water, crackers, you name it- its all still good! We even got paper plates and bowls and silverware!” Fredrick beamed as he beckoned Jonathan to sit down for breakfast, to which jonathan did just that. He scanned his eyes over at the various cans and boxes and bottles, finally choosing to have the same thing Fredrick was having, Chicken noodle soup.

“Welp- heres to our first breakfast in the lab!” Fredrick toasted as he and jonathan clinked their cans together, drinking the broth and eating the chicken and noodles. For one since everything happened, Fredrick felt right at home eating one of his favorite foods with his most trustworthy friend. Plans for the initiation of the project could wait until afterwards, he thought to himself. They spent the next few minutes of their time chittering amongst themselves as they had their meal together. It wouldn’t be long until Fredrick noticed the clock- which he had put new batteries in and set the time straight, read 8:30 in the morning.

“8 o’clock already, eh Jonathan?” He muttered through sleep-filled vocal chords as he scraped the remainder of the chicken out of the can. Jonathan nodded, smiling as he finished up his can before throwing it into the garbage bin. 

“Yeah, time sure flies when you’re asleep, huh?” Jonathan chortled, to which fredrick grinned. But then he finally recollected the project plan.

“Oh, Jonathan, we need to conduct our first experiment today.” “Oh, right.. Where will we get a subject again?” “The Carnagie Funeral home in New Gonzales. They’re the only funeral home in the southern part of Louisiana that’ll take spiker victims because the venom’s so powerful. You remember Simon Carnagie, I think he worked with us on Project Prometheus?” “Oh yeah, i remember him! Tall, green eyes, blonde?” “Yeah, you got him right! He used to research the spikers after they captured some strays before 2031. He ended up making a bunch of things out of the DNA and parts of the spiker- in fact, I think he was the one that invented Spiker Leather, and he found a way to distill the venom to make alcohol out of it!” “Yeah, i remember him perfectly now! He always seemed to like you a bit better then me, didn’t he?” “I bet that was just because his older brother, Phil, got his arm bl0wn off in the Slaughter of Baja, and i was the one who gave him his new cybernetic one. He always thanked me for it whenever he got the chance. I wonder how they’re doing now-- i haven’t seen those two in ages!”

“I guess theres only one way to find out… you still got the ice chest in the truck?” “I brought it back out after i put her in the cryo-chamber.” “Alright, well i think we got all we need, huh?” Jonathan asked as he stood up, stretching his arms and legs before helping Fredrick up. Fredrick nodded.

“Alright, so now, all we need to do is drive to see the Carnagie Brothers and ask them for some assistance.” “Got it.”

They then put their day-shirts and belts back on and walked outside of the lab, and within an instant, they were subjected to the bitter winter temperatures that winter-time Louisiana had to offer. Fredrick, who was a bit more resistant to the cold, did not mind. However, Jonathan was in pure agony, shivering like a leaf in a hurricane, his eyes rapidly darting every which way. Fredrick, noticing this, stopped in his tracks, and turned right around

“I’ll be back, i’m getting us some lab coats. It might warm you up.” “O-oh, d-don’t w-worry a-b-bout me-” Jonathan stuttered through chattering teeth, but Fredrick only shook his head and put his hand up.

“Don’t “I’ll be fine” me, Jonathan. You need to keep warm. We both need to keep warm.” He huffed before running back into the lab, grabbing some large paper-white lab coats, and running back out. 

“Here, t-take it- i think they’re all the same size.” Fredrick grumbled as he put on one of the labcoats, to which Jonathan sheepishly followed, his face turning pink from either Fredrick’s kind gestures or the careless frigid winds. They then jumped back into Fredrick’s chevy, and pulled back onto the roads.

“You know where New Gonzales is, right Fredrick?” “Yeah, I’ve been there before once, and im fairly certain that its to the west of baton rouge, maybe a little more southward? Yeah, i know where to go.” “Thank god, because i sure don’t!” Jonathan chuckled as he looked out the window and onto the landscape, lush with life. Within the minute, they were back on the road again, this time heading towards New Gonzales, a newly sprung city that moved from Gonzales after a spiker venom water poisoning. When they finally arrived, they noticed the stores and businesses were lined up in uniform lines, lights danced across the tops of buildings alongside neon signs for bars, clubs, drug stores and around streetlights, and train tracks could be seen in the distance that were once used to carry korsa and other materials and goods, a reminder of better times.

“Wow… this place looks awesome, Huh Fredrick?” Jonathan guffawed as he looked out the window like a child going to a theme-park. Fredrick smiles and chuckled, looking at his surroundings before turning his eyes back on the road.

“Heh! Yeah, it sure is! We should go to one of these places here some time!” Fredrick chortled as he drove, eventually making it to the Carnagie Funeral Home, a fancy brown-brick building with an even classier sign that read:

Carnagie Funeral Home

New Gonzales, LA

Simon Carnagie, Owner

Phillip Carnagie, Co-Owner

504-555-4327

“Alright Jon, here we are..” Fredrick sighed as they both took off their seatbelts and made their way into the establishment.

The interior was magnificent, with brown wood panels gliding alongside the lower-half of the wall, while the upper half was coated in pearly white paint, with painted pictures of flowers and beautiful scenery and wall-lights adorning them, while the floor was covered by a dark-nude weaved carpet. Sitting at the desk was a woman with salt-and-pepper hair in a loose bun, the only parts of her one could see was her cherry pink blouse, a black camisole underneath, and a gold bangle that rested around her wrist, with a look upon her face that screamed “I really wish i weren’t here right now.”

“Hello, welcome to the Carnagie Funeral home..” The woman droned monotonously while glaring at the two gentleman with uninterest. “Would you like to set up an appointment?”

“Er, No ma’am, We’d like to see Mr. Carnagie, if possible.” Jonathan answered, putting one of his hands into his pocket nervously.

“Sir, You’ll have to set up an appointment if you wish to see Mr. Carnagie-” The bored woman began to say, but was quickly interrupted by the opening of the door behind her, and out from behind walked out a tall skinny man with sandy slicked-back blonde hair, with black thick-rimmed glasses standing in front of his pale-green eyes, tiny little freckles scattered across his cheeks like stars, with a grey suit that accentuated his skinny yet toned form in a modest, classy manner. As soon as he had stepped out, he noticed his former collegues, and his eyes light up.

“Fredrick?! Jonathan?!” His chipper voice rang as he walked over to them, making little grasping motions with his hands. The woman looked at the man with confusion.

“Don’t worry, Ms. Cindi, I Know these people!”

“Hey, Simon! How’s the business going?” Fredrick asked with a smile as he shook Simon’s hand. Simon grinned.

“Its all going well so far! How have you been?” he began to ask before stopping himself, a guilty look crossing his face “Ah, Sorry- that was a stupid question- i know what happened..” He muttered, being the one who drained Olivia of the Spiker venom before treating her.

“Hey, its fine, Simon. Thank you for asking anyway. Er- may we come into your office for a moment? Theres.. Something important we need to ask of you.. A favor, if you will.”

“Well of course! Come in, come in!” Simon chirped as he held the door open for the two gentlemen. As they entered, they noticed that the Carnagie Brother’s office looked different then the main lobby, as this room had dark grey walls with a dark blue weaved carpet, and a brown oval table with 4 chairs, one of them being occupied by a tall salt-and-peppered haired heavy-set man with blue eyes, wearing a dark blue button-up shirt with caramel brown overalls and work boots, holding a book with one cybernetic arm.

“Hey Phil! Remember Fredrick and Jonathan? They’re here to see us!”

The man jumped, red in the face and swiftly closed his book and looked over, covering the cover-art with his organic hand, but after seeing the two men, he relaxed.

“Oh…. Ey, How ya doing, Fred?” Phil laughed as he got out of his chair to give Fredrick and Jonathan a firm handshake before the gentlemen sat down. They talked for a couple of minutes, catching up with each other, until Simon finally asked:

“So Fredrick, what were you going to ask me?” He questioned with an interested, almost excited look on his freckle-scattered face.

“Ah, Yes.. Well… Me and Jonathan, we’re doing a project in our… well.. We-” He stuttered, trying to find the right words to describe what he was doing and what he needed, until Jonathan finished his sentence for him.

“Fredrick and I are attempting to bring back the dead with Cybernetics and robotics, and we figured that you may have some folk that.. Y’know, don’t have any family or anything, that we could use to run the first tests.” He spoke quickly, wiping off his glasses lens on his turtleneck before putting them back on his head. Simon paused for a bit, bewildered at the macabre string of words that came out of Jonathan’s mouth. Bringing back the dead? Playing God? What kind of experiments are these two gentlemen doing?, he thought to himself. Phil However, saw an opportunity to make some cash.

“How much y’all willing to pay for one of these folk?” Phil questioned, looking over at his younger brother.

“I suppose we’ll pay $700.” Fredrick gruffed, making sure his wallet was in his coat pocket. Phil nodded, and gestered to the two gentlemen to follow him out back into a morgue in a repurposed warehouse, where the dead were kept in drawers in freezing temperatures. The three men walked past these countless drawers until Phil stopped at one marked “133”, before opening it, revealing a pale man with slicked back black hair with a widow’s peak, a slim face and nose and closed eyes, with a hospital bag of belongings near his feet.

“This fella right here? We found him outside the alleyway about 3 days ago, looked like he had a heart attack, and no-one’s claimed him, so we went ahead and treated him with the anti-rotting solution, and we were probably either going to bury him in an unmarked grave or just cremate him until y’all came along. He also had some stuff on him, but it was all in some kind of Cryllic script, so he was probably a lost Russian or a Belarusian or some other eastern european.” “That's alright, it don’t matter to me if they’re Russian or American. Hell, they can be from the moon, for all I care!” Fredrick chuckled as Jonathan left to go get the ice-chest. After he came back, Fredrick gave the 700 dollars to Phil, and shook his hand.

“Fredrick, I don’t know what the hell you’re planning, but I hope you know what you’re doing.” Phil sighed as he helped Jonathan put the man into the ice-chest and handed the bag of belongings to Fredrick.

“Don’t worry, Phil. All it is is just a little augmentation and electricity. You know how I replaced your arm after it got it blown off?” “Uh, Yeah..?”

“Its exactly like that, but on a much larger scale..” Fredrick explained, looking up into his eyes with intent. Phil nodded, not wanting to know the rest of the details because frankly, he wouldn’t, and couldn’t understand at the same level Fredrick could- he was just one of the people he worked on back in the 2020’s. Besides, this could rake in more cash.

“Well, Fredrick, if thats what you want, I guess I can’t stop you. You have a good rest of your day, and be careful!” Fredrick nodded and grinned, and he and jonathan walked back to Fredrick’s truck from the back, placed the ice-chest in the back seat, and drove back to the lab.

After they had arrived back at the lab, Fredrick and Jonathan took a minute to just sit in the truck before they went in. they both sat in the front seats, the heater blowing on their face and feet, considering what they should do next.

“...So this is it, huh? Only one thing left to do before this whole project truly starts?” Jonathan pondered as he layed back in his seat, looking out the window and through the rocks. Fredrick nodded and sighed, but not out of sorrow or boredom, but out of worry. Even he knew that this had a 50/50 chance of working, and if it truly worked, if that body in the chest rose from the dead, if its consciousness gets thrown back into its body by machine and electricity, he would be the one responsible. I must remain positive, he thought to himself. I won’t know if it will work until I try Besides, this is a big leap for science!

“Yeah, Jonathan.. This is it… we’re so close, can you feel it? We’re going to be the first two men in the history of mankind to bring back the dead!”

“Heh, I sure can feel it!...”

“..Alright, Jon, Ya ready? Its time for some science!” They got out of the truck, and they both carried the chest inside, the chest being heavier now than it was when Olivia was inside.

“Dear god, how heavy is this sunuvab1tch?!” Jonathan groaned as he helped Fredrick carry it. Fredrick huffed and complained also.

“Hell, Jonathan. He’s gotta be like- what- 230 at most? Agh, i gotta start lifing more weights!” “Hah! Me too, Fredrick. Me too.”

When they finally made it inside the operation room, Fredrick and Jonathan Disrobed the man, leaving nothing but his black boxers. Afterwards, Fredrick went deeper into the laboratory to get a box of cybernetic parts, while Jonathan brought out the many machines, memory needles, memory scanners, and whatnot. He had just finished bringing out the last machine, and when he looked up, he found Fredrick standing there, his lab coat all buttoned up, wearing scarlett red rubber gloves, and red-tinted goggles that only looked red on the outside.

“Wow, Fredrick. You even got the Mad Scientist outfit going on! H-heh!”

Fredrick chuckled warmly at Jonathan’s jeering before walking over to the man. He scanned his eyes over him, noting the pale color of his skin, the utter lack of movement, the face not having a single expression whatsoever. But this would soon change. Those bones would soon wriggle from the grasp of death and move about once more, that jaw would soon be moving with every word and noise the man would make, that face of his would soon be contorting with expressions of glee, of sadness, of disgust, whatever he felt, his face would show. 

“Are you ready, Jonathan…..?” Fredrick asked as he readied the two Memory Needles in hand, getting ready to stick them in the man’s skull.

“Ready when you are, Fredrick.”

Then, carefully yet swiftly, Fredrick Pierced the man’s skull and brain with the sticks, and he turned on the Baroque-Brand Memory Machine. Memories from the brain turned into .MRF Files quite quickly, and were quickly loaded up on the screen.

“Wow, i’m surprised none of these are corrupted, seeing as how Phil said they picked him up 3 days ago. But then again, they did use that Anti-decay formula, didn’t they?” “Thats what they said, at least… do you want to see what they all entail?” “Er.. not yet.. We have to focus on the sugery for now, now that theres holes in the body.” Fredrick huffed as he readied his scalpel…

Now that the man was open, all the organic parts were there for the scientists to see. Fredrick, a major in anatomy and cybernetics, knew exactly where each part should go, and which parts needed to be replaced.

First, he took out the heart, and in its place rested a new artificial heart, and he soon followed with replacing the rest of the organics. Lungs, Livers, Pancreases, Intestines, kidneys-- all were thrown out and replaced with their superiors, screwed in and welded on. The smell of it all would be enough to make the average man hurl, but these two scientists knew the scent very well from the days of Project Prometheus, when replacing limbs and organs was an everyday event akin to getting your morning coffee. Now, it was second nature, a simple formality one must get through.

Fredrick then replaced the man’s veins with fine tubing, and shot a mix of synthetic blood into the veins and heart that would soon pump it through the man’s body. After all was said and done, he stepped back to look upon his work, and the scientist smiled.

“Now, all we need to do is sew him up, and view his memories… at least that will be easy, huh, Jonathan?” Fredrick sighed as he began sewing up the Y-incision he had made in the man’s chest. Jonathan nodded, and looked through the files, many of them entailing Military operations, battles, and many of them being too violent and grisly to describe with human language, yet some were more “Normal” in today's standards, such as training soldiers, eating MRES, and other miscellaneous events.

“Hm. looks like he was a soldier, or a general.” Jonathan mumbled, while Fredrick looked through the bag of the man’s belongings, which included medals, a mini photo album, a satchel and wallet, and a pair of dogtags in a miniature plastic bag.

“Yeah, he was a general- i can see from the medals and the tags…. Wait…. Does he look familiar to you, Jonathan?” “Not really, i mean.. I mean he KINDA looks familiar, like i’ve seen him in the news or something, but i can’t recall seeing him in real life.”

“Well, alright then, that makes two of us- he looks kinda familiar to me too.. Say, load up that translator machine will ya? Im going to try and translate these tags!” Fredrick called out as he unpackaged the tags. Jonathan nodded and booted up the machine, and in big red text, it read: READY FOR TRANSLATION

Fredrick then set the tags town under the scanner, and as soon as he did, the red matrix glided over the tags, and after a minute of internalizing the information, the screen spat out: IVAN S. MALENKOV

Fredrick’s heart dropped. He knew the name very well, but not the face. In fact, No-one truly knew what the man looked like, at least, not exactly, as the only real depictions of him were quickly drawn sketches by soldiers. They only heard the stories. Stories of brutal k1llings, such as the Slaughter of Baja, soldier kidnappings, and other unspeakable atrocities. If you could think about it, chances are that Gen. Ivan Sergei Malankov has done it.

“Jonathan… Thats Ivan Malenkov.” “Ivan- WHO? You mean the Russian Devil?”

“Yes….” Fredrick shook as he looked back at the man, whose body was now filled with robotics just waiting for a jolt of electricity to course through the mainframe. Now all Fredrick could feel was uncertainty and indecision.. Should I get rid of him and get another subject, wasting all the time I’ve put into the surgery, or should I just jolt him up, and hope and pray that he doesn’t gut us, He thought to himself. But then, he had thought of a better idea.

“We need to get rid of some of these memories, or at least, block them from recall somehow” Fredrick mumbled as he walked back to the memory reader, desperately trying to remove, or at least block any memories. 10 minutes would pass by until Fredrick was certain that the malicious media was removed.

“Okay.. I think i have all of it removed, now all we have is the less horrible crap..” Fredrick sighed. “All we have to do now is strap him down, connect him to the electric shocker-” “Electric What-now?”

“Come on Jonathan, you know what i’m talking about! The generator with the jumper cables and the button i fashioned out of a heated blanket remote!” “Oh yeah- that thing! Where is it?” “Its right over here, i brought it out when I was getting ready.” Fredrick groaned as he lugged the homemade shocker over to the operation table before strapping the man’s arms and legs down. Finally, Fredrick took both ends of the two cables connected to the generator, and clamped them onto the man’s wrists, where imbedded in his skin were two small conductive metal discs around the size of a quarter on either arm that would shoot the electric currents through the wires tied to his bones and into the mainframe. 

“You ready, Jon? I’m about to hit the switch!” Fredrick trembled as he backed away from the operation table, button in hand, worrying about whether or not he or Jonathan would get electrocuted instead of the subject. He quickly pushed these worries to the back of his mind, however. Now was not the time to be worrying, especially when a scientific breakthrough was imminent.

“Ready!” “One Mississippi, Two Mississippi, Three Mississippi!”

As soon as Fredrick pressed the button, the sound of electricity shot through the air like the blast of a sh0tgun, and the lights overhead momentarily flickered before going back to normal. Fredrick, crouched beside Jonathan, waited a few moments before speaking.

“You alright, Jonathan?” “Y-Yeah, I’m Fine! D-Did it work?”

“T-thats what I gotta check.. Hold on..” Fredrick stuttered as he carefully approached the man, quiet as a bug crawling on a wall. He surveyed the gentlemen for a bit, noticing the slight slant downwards in his nose, the thinness of his lips, his thin face with slightly defined cheekbones. It was almost hard to believe that he was face to face with the man who had raised hell on earth in the Baja Peninsula 7 years ago. But this moment of serveillance was quickly interrupted by a quiet sound coming from him. A sound of air being gently sucked in, and gently blown out.. 

In… and out…

In… and out..

In... and out…

Fredrick, in a state of amazement, awe, and mystification, could not begin to register that the man, the General Ivan Malankov, was breathing once again. He stood there, eyes wide like saucers, his mouth hanging just slightly agape, his hands gently vibrating in either horror or stupification. Could I just be imagining this? Is this man truly breathing? Is he truly alive, he thought to himself.

“Fredrick..?” Fredrick did not say anything, and instead held one ear to the man’s chest, and sure enough, that cybernetic heart was now pumping blood..

Thuh-dump. Thuh-dump. Thuh-dump. 

“He’s alive… He’s alive! HE’S BREATHING, HIS HEART IS BEATING! JONATHAN, WE DID IT! WE DID IT- WE ACTUALLY BROUGHT A MAN BACK TO LIFE!” Fredrick squealed with a smile from ear to ear, his face turning a bright, almost neon-pink from the rush of excitement. Jonathan rushed over to the man, and the first thing he noticed was that the man’s chest rose and fell with each breath he took.

“Y-You did that, Fredrick! That was all you! Y-YOU’RE A- A… I CAN’T EVEN GET THE WORDS OUT!” Jonathan squeaked, while Fredrick began pacing up and down and around the operation room in pure elation from his sucessful experiment.

“Whaddya say we unstrap him and wake him up?” Jonathan asked, a smile across his face.

“Ehh, we need to unstrap him, but I don’t think we should wake him up! Lets just let him wake up on his own.. Yeah, i think thats a good idea, what do you think, Jonathan?” “Yeah, now that I think about it, It would be pretty rude to just abruptly awake him after we brought him back.”

An hour of chittering and chattering would pass before the man would start to move. Jonathan, who decided to info-dump about his favorite 80’s bands, was interrupted by the motion of Fredrick pointing to the man, the other hand making a silencing motion.

“Jonathan.. Look!” He whispered before he took Jonathan’s hand and hid behind a table, afraid to accidentally frighten the newly revived man.

The man’s eyes slowly opened, showing grey cybernetical eyes with black sclera, constricting almost realistically under the bright lights above him. He looked around at his new surroundings as he slowly got up, curious as to where he was, for this was not his home. He looked down at his body and immediately noticed the palor of his skin and the stitched-up Y-Incision on his torso that trailed from his chest and collarbones down to his belly. He felt at the stitching, wincing from the pain that it caused him to just simply poke at it, but he did not care about the pain. He felt at his neck that was now reinforced with jointed metal, and finally, he spoke.

“Where the hell..?” he began to say, his voice reverbrating across the room in a dark, strangely inviting Russian accent. Jonathan, watching this, tried his best to make not a sound and stay in the shadows of the operation room, but unluckily for him, he felt a tickling sensation in his sinuses that kept getting worse and worse with each passing millisecond until…

Kuh-Chew!

“Hm?” the newly-revived man hummed as he looked over to the direction the sound came from. He then got up from the table, towering at almost 6 foot and 3 inches. 

“Fredrick, what do we do?” Jonathan whispered, in fear of what the man would do if he was suddenly startled.

“Lets just gently come out….” Fredrick answered. And with that, they slowly rose from their hiding spot, holding their hands in the air to show that they meant no harm.

Ahem.

The man quickly turned around to face the two men, his face void of expression. He looked over at Jonathan, and took notice of his glasses, and looked over to Fredrick, noticing his pine green eyes and goatee. Then, after a minute or two of the man studying over the two scientists, he smiled and slowly nodded, his eyes glowing in the shadowy part of the room.

…

“Hello, Gentlemen.” he suavely greeted, showing his teeth in a smile.

#tw surgery #red tides a' rollin' #red tides a rollin #rtar #writeblr #writing #book #bookwriting #literature #writers of tumblr #characters

[ansbobcar]

4th Mashle OC is a GO! Alexa Ivona people!

GENERAL INFO

Name: Alexa Ivona

Other names: Alex, The Voice Cane

Sex: Female

Age: 19 (At death)

Birthday: April 14th

Blood Type: A

Height: 162cm

Weight: 63kg 

Occupation: Head of the Magical Items Administration, Divine Visionary

Affiliation: Bureau of Magic (current), Saint Ars Academy (graduated)

Dominant Hand: Left

Foot size: 24cm

Hobbies: Karaoke

Favourite Food: Clam Chowder

Favourite Word: Cheery

Favourite type of the opposite sex: A person who doesn’t flinch from loud noises

Likes: Ballads, Clams, Reading the Law

Dislikes: Rudeness, Uncalled for violence, Social Injustices

Frequently visited Bureau spots: Magical Items Department, Orter's office

 

Appearance: 

She had muted blue eyes andash brown hair typically done up in a high ponytail with a white bow. She wore a simple icey blue blazer instead of a robe with with matching vest and skirt that reached her knees. She wore black tights also. She has 2 lines, both on her left cheek/right if ur looking at her.

Personality:

Contrary to her cute high school girl appearance, she’s incredibly blunt and you’d expect her to be as loud and performatory based on how she single-handedly took the win during her batch but she isn’t. She notices what makes people tick, deduces things purely out of luck and annoys people based on it. She’s more cheery and kind than Rinka (who is still really gloomy) and would’ve probably taken over in terms of being the Bureau of Magic’s Idol/Madonna if she were still alive.

Skills/Abilities: 

Personal Magic:

Amplify - She can temporarily increase and decrease the magnitude of any phenomena she can identify. For the most part, she uses it to amplify her voice to an insane degree hence her being called the Voice Cane. That’s how she single-handedly won against all her competitors.

Equipment: 

Microphone Wand - Her wand resembles a microphone which she uses to amplify her voice from.

Random Trivia including Author comments:

She holds the record for being the shortest serving Divine Visionary due to her uncalled for death at the end of May meaning she was only Divine Visionary for 2 months.

She was the closest to Orter and Tsurara

Has ridiculous levels of deduction

She was originally given a light blue robe but had personally asked for it to be changed to a blazer instead after the ceremony like Tsurara (big headcanon)

She was one of the super popular girls in Saint Ars and held Student Council President Position for 2 years.

Her power is kinda like Canaria from Qualidea Code (this is an unintentional coincidence)

Plot Relevance:

The Bureau of Magic's official statement is that she was murdered, cause of death is unknown, and that they will give a lot of support to her family for this loss.

The cause of death was found to not be decapitation but rather drowning (Renatus action!)

The other plot details might be changed.

#mashle oc #mashle fanfic idea #orter madl #divine visionaries #tsurara halestone

[sun-havenn]

prompt 195. “I read once that holding your breath can stop a panic attack so…when I kissed you…you held your breath.” for Liam maybe?

Gladly! Thank you for requesting!

It was an exceptional beautiful day, even for Sun Haven. It was warm, hot even. The morning had been slow, your animals were looking for shade and even your crops were looking like they were sweating by twenty past nine. A little before noon, you decided it was also too hot for you to do any work. Besides, everyone deserves a break, even on a random, hot, Thursday.

Luckily Liam didn’t live far, just over the little hill at the edge of your farm. You picked up a few cool blueberry salads, not his favorite, but refreshing and easy, and strolled over to his home, keeping close to the treeline and out of the sun.

By then, Emma and Elizabeth would be learning with Jun. You loved having dinner with them, but it had been awhile since you and Liam got to spend some time alone together. You were busy with your farms and traveling a lot. Liam had his hands full with the shop and his sisters.

It didn’t matter too much, You ate dinner together most nights and talked while doing the dishes and laughed softly after the girls went to bed. You loved those moments, but still, you missed him.

It was strange, the way you missed him. You’d been on a date a while ago, had the best time, but he hadn’t mentioned it again, and you had found it difficult to find a free moment long enough to ask him out again. Though that wasn’t the whole reason, you were kind of scared for a ‘no’. Would a rejection ruin your friendship? Perhaps not, but it would put an end to whatever flirty situation you had going on now.

You entered the shop, which was even hotter than it was in the sun. You walked straight to the ovens, looking for Liam. Sure enough, he was baking bread. “Hi,” you said with a smile, and Liam turned around. His cheeks were flushed, hair sticking to his forehead. He looked absent-minded, but a smile appeared when he saw you.

“Y/n,” he said, putting down the bag of flour he was holding. “What are you doing here?”

In response, you held up the food you’d brought. “I think it’s time for a break.” He glanced towards the batter he was making, and you knew what was coming next. “Come on, Liam! It’s too hot, you have enough bread. Just let it rest a little longer and finish it when it isn’t so hot. You’ll faint.”

Perhaps he noticed it, too, or, a silly part of you hoped, he wanted to spend time with you, too. “All right, let me just finish this dough.”

“Great,” you grinned, glad to be getting out of the heat. “I’ll get you a big glass of water for when you’re done.”

With his permission, you let yourself in his place, setting the table. It was hot inside, too, and you opened the windows to let wind through. After a few minutes, he joined you, drinking two glasses of water before he took a bite. “This is really good, thank you, y/n. I didn’t realize I needed a break this badly.”

He looked better already, his face back to his normal color. “If you still need some relaxing,” you began, not really knowing what you were going to say until you said it. “I though we could go for a swim at the beach. Just for a bit, we’ll be back before Emma and Elizabeth.”

He hesitated again, a strange look on his face. You mistook it for doubt, and tried to convince him: “It’ll be good! We can get them some clams, I can make them clam chowder for tonight, Elizabeth loves that dish. I know you’re hot, too.”

You blushed, realizing how the last sentence sounded, but you didn’t want to take it back. “Uhm, okay,” he said. “Just for a bit.”

--

Liam was quiet that day. It might be the heat, but even after playfully pushing him in the sea, his sullen mood stayed. You worried about him. You sat down on the beach, close enough to the water that the waves still washed over your legs. You patted the spot beside you, where he sat down.

“Here,” you handed him a light blue shell, different from the pink ones you’d gathered for the girls. He looked as if it was something strange. “For you.”

“Thank you,” he said, and you smiled at him before looking over the sea again. You’d come there a lot to fish, but the water was night, too. It was relaxing, and you weren’t as hot anymore.

“What’s bothering you?” You asked without looking at him. “Come on, I know you well enough to notice. You don’t have to talk about it, but you can.”

He sighed softly, and from the corner of your eye you saw him toying with the shell. “I know. It’s just... hard to talk about. I don’t even know if it makes sense.”

“It doesn’t have to make sense,” you let your legs fall, so they were touching his. despite the water occasionally crashing over you, his skin was warm. “I don’t have to understand, but maybe it will help you understand better.”

“Okay,” he said softly, fingers sinking in the wet sand. After a pause he began to ramble. You had trouble keeping up with what he was saying. He’d never talked as fast. It had something to do with Emma, who had more trouble than normal with reading, no matter how much he practiced with her. He felt like it was his fault, because he couldn’t make more time to practice.

You noticed he was getting out of breath, but he didn’t seem able to slow down. His fingers, still in the sand, were white from pressure. He was panicking. You frowned, placing a hand on his, trying to interrupt him and getting him to breathe. He didn’t seem to notice you, too wrapped up in trying to breathe and talk.

You didn’t know what to do, you were no Jun. Without thinking, you moved to your knees, pulling Liam’s face close to your own and interrupting him by placing your lips on his.

It was the first time you’d kissed him. Admittedly, you’d wanted to for awhile. It was a short kiss, one you broke off when his shoulders relaxed under your fingers.

He looked shocked, but he was breathing normally. You leaned back more. “Sorry,” you said, smiling at the sand. “I read once that holding your breath can stop a panic attack... so when I kissed you... you held your breath.”

“Yeah, I did,” he said. “Thank you, I think.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself in the shifting and and lapping water. “I didn’t want our first kiss to be like this, but... I didn’t know how else to help.”

For a moment he didn’t speak, relaxing a little more. “First kiss?” He asked.

He didn’t sound opposed to anything. It made you braver. “I’d like for there to be a second. A better one, if that’s okay with you.” 

“I’d like that,” he smiled more genuinely than he had since you startled him in the bakery. “I didn’t know if you would, after... well, our first date.” He didn’t need to say ‘and lack of a second one’.

“Actually, I’d like to take you on a second date, if you’d be okay with that.” Now that there was less chance of rejection, you realized how badly you wanted the certainty that he liked you, too. That he wanted more than what you were now. That he wanted what you did.

That seemed to surprise him. “Really?”

You felt guilty, because had he actually believed you wouldn’t want that? “Of course! I love spending time with you, you’re an amazing person.”

He looked shy in a way he hadn’t for awhile. Since the first time he’d rambled to you, before you got closer. “I think you’re really great, too.”

“So is that a yes?” You assumed so, and were correct to do so when he nodded with an almost tentative smile. “Great! How about we dry up for now and you can tell me again what’s been bothering you while we pick up your sisters?”

“I’m a lot less bothered now,” he admitted, standing up anyway. He extended his hand for you to take, helping you up. You were sticky with sea water and not yet dry enough to easily wipe the sand away. “But if you still want to hear about it...”

You were putting your shirt back on, but stopped to say: “Obviously! I want to hear everything you have to say, the good and the bad.”

“Oh,” he chuckled, a little nervous. “I didn’t realize so much flattery came with a second date.”

“Yeah,” you put your shoes back on, sure to find sand in them for the days to come. For once, it didn’t bother you. “There’s much more to come.”

You grinned at Liam, who smiled back as he tried to get most of the sand out of his hair. You made your way off the beach together, and once the sand transformed into grass, he started talking again, much calmer.

#sun haven #sun haven imagine #liam #sun haven liam

[danglovely]

Regrading Taskmaster: S01 E06 The last supper.

*Score changes in parenthesis.

Prize Task: Most Satisfying Item

Roisin might be suffering getting marked down for being friends with Greg. Those head massagers are genuine magic and in no world was Frank's stress ball a better showing. World Cup sticker albums tap into a cultural phenomenon that I'm not super familiar with, but completed collections are generally satisfying. A vape tank fits the call of the task sufficiently and Alex claimed Tim's chowder was good . . . but it was also three days old.

Frank: 1 (-1) Josh: 4 (0) Roisin: 5 (+4) Romesh: 3 (0) Tim: 2 (-3)

VT 01: Get the lowest golf score using eggs.

Theoretically a purely objective task with a mildly complex scoring system (shots x eggs x minutes). Tim makes the argument that Roisin "swept" the eggs, presumably disqualifying her. Alex does count a discrete number of shots, so this argument doesn't hold a ton of water.

The other issue is that Romesh ran out of eggs. If this is the case, then he did not actually complete the course and should be disqualified.

Frank: 4 (0) Josh: 2 (0) Roisin: 5 (0) Romesh: DQ (-1) Tim: 3 (0)

VT 02: Stage a realistic blooper from a home movie.

Subjective task, but there's no real argument from anyone that Tim and Frank's isn't the far superior video. Even Romesh confessed that he was genuinely embarrassed by what the team of three put out.

They did complete the task, so zero points isn't right, but it's hard to justify anything better than a 4-1 split.

Frank and Tim: 4 (+2) Josh, Roisin, and Romesh: 1 (+1)

VT 03: Make the best meal for the Taskmaster using ingredients beginning with every letter of the alphabet.

Everyone naturally struggled with the letter "X." The two ways the task could be graded is how much of the alphabet is actually utilized in the meal or as a pure evaluation of taste after Alex returns with the ingredients.

Frank and Romesh both incorporate xylophones, the latter also intentionally misspells "ouzo." Roisin uses an umbrella, so to avoid a mass disqualification these efforts have to be accepted to a degree. The real injustice is Josh receiving one point. It was a nice looking meal and Alex said it was good, but Tim still beat him despite serving dog food.

Frank: 5 (0) Josh: 4 (+3) Roisin: 3 (+2) Romesh: 2 (-2) Tim: 1 (-2)

Live Task: Wearing boxing gloves, put the blue sweets in the empty bowl.

Objectively scored task, so there's nothing to quibble with.

Frank: 3 Josh: 2 Roisin: 1 Romesh: 4 Tim: 5

Final

Frank: 17 (+1) Josh: 13 (+4) Roisin: 15 (+7) Romesh: 10 (-2) Tim: 15 (-3)

On regrade, Tim's only win was an episode he didn't deserve based on an over-score for chowder and Greg forgetting that he had served Alex dog food.

Regraded Series Scores

Frank: 95 (+2) Josh: 102 (+8) Roisin: 82 (+14) Romesh: 99 (+6) Tim: 85 (-3)

So Roisin seems like the rightful last place and Josh seems like the rightful champ, even sans bean point.

#taskmaster #frank skinner #josh widdicombe #roisin conaty #romesh ranganathan #tim key #tm regrade

[etes-secrecy-post]

Hi, before I explain my post, I want to say something important.

• What you see my blog has become a major overhaul. And despite the changes, I decided that my 2nd account will be now my artwork blog with a secret twist.

⚠️NEW RULE! (W/ BIGGER TEXT!)⚠️

⚠️ SO PLEASE DO NOT SHARE MY 2nd ACCOUNT TO EVERYONE! THIS SECRECY BLOG OF MINE IS FOR CLOSES FRIENDS ONLY!⚠️

• AND FOR MY CLOSES FRIENDS, DON’T REBLOG IT. INSTEAD, JUST COPY MY LINK AND PASTE IT ON YOUR TUMBLR POST! JUST BE SURE THE IMAGE WILL BE REMOVED AND THE ONLY LEFT WAS THE TEXT.

⚠️ SHARING LINKS, LIKE POSTS, REBLOG POSTS, STEALING MY SNAPSHOT PHOTOS/RECORDED VIDEOS/ARTWORKS (a.k.a. ART THIEVES) OR PLAGIARIZING FROM UNKNOWN TUMBLR STRANGERS WILL IMMEDIATELY BE BLOCKED, RIGHT AWAY!⚠️

😡 WHATEVER YOU DO, DO NOT EVER LIKED & REBLOG MY SECRET POST! THIS IS FOR MY SECRET FRIENDS ONLY, NOT YOU! 😡

Okay? Capiche? Make sense? Good, now back to the post…↓

#OnThisday: Jan 3rd, 2014

Title: Soft Addicting

This is my artwork that I started to create for what is now called "pillow clothing" from a small size to ultra oversize known as "clothing mattress"! 👕🛏️ 🥰🤗

(Keep in mind: I'm using these emoticons → "👕🛏️ 🥰🤗", numerous times. 😉)

Spot 🐶🏎️ is still addicting on soft over sized clothes and pillow shirts, as he's wearing Jason's (EStar99's Gumball OC) emergency big boy shirt hugging his pillow w/ a covered of his shirt among with their shirts from his friends (Panini, Chowder, Riya and Vanilla) putting all on a nice soft pillow. 👕🛏️ 🥰🤗

Spot 🐶🏎️ [wearing Jason's emergency big boy shirt]: *hugs tightly on pillow clothing* Uhuh! And we're still addicted, to this day! Hugging 'pillow clothing'/'clothing mattress' never runs out of softness! 👕🛏️ 🥰🤗

In real life (and yes, this is true from my throwback memory 😁🧠), I used my Adventure Time Shirt pocket Jake as a pillow cover and putting it on my softest pillow and it looks very very softy! I love it! 👕🛏️ 🥰🤗

BTW: I still owned and wear my AT blue shirts, to this day! 💙👕🥰🤗

Spot Speedster (Chowder OC) - created by ME!

[tennessoui]

idk how much $$ we’re working with here buuuut it’s maryland blue crab season. so you KNOW it’s a good time for cream of crab soup. that shit will heal your soul. mccormick’s recipe on their website is pretty good and the Award Winning Grand Prize recipe floating around online is even better. i’d give u my family recipe but. then i’d have to kill u 😔 and i like u very much so. you understand. hope your surg and healing goes well though!! oral surgery got hands but you are STRONGER

(McCormick's Cream of Crab soup)

(a recipe i found called award winning cream of crab soup with 1k reviews so maybe this is the one you're talking about?)

galaxy brained for thinking of maryland crab season honestly....i have had so much clam chowder in my day but i haven't ever had cream of crab it looks delicious!!! like it's just begging for old bay to be sprinkled (dumped) on top

and no worries about the family recipe--i completely understand that is the nature of family recipes for things that are THAT GOOD. preciously guarded secret, as they should be!!!!

thank you so much!!!!

#asks #also thank you for the well-wishes!!! #i legit hate dentists now and i never want to go back #but my teeth are about to be the most expenisve part of me #and i need all this work done #kids don't just not go to the dentist for 7 years #spread it out they dont offer frequent flyer miles if you try to go 6 times in one month #i asked

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

"...so what kept you, son? Some last-minute customer browsing your wares?"

"Uh...sort of," Randall smiled shyly, as he dished himself up a still-piping hot bowl of seafood chowder, his father buttering a slice of bread and his mother pouring out three glasses of water for them all as he explained, "Um...a woman came in, just as I was getting ready to start closing up; she was looking for a dress, I helped her, and, uh...well, we got to talking."

There was a little look of interest exchanged between June and Wilhelm Pace at this, a look their son did not miss, pale cheeks flaring pink as he said, "T-To make a long story short, uh...I'm going out with her Saturday evening-we're going to have dinner and see a movie together."

"Really?" Wilhelm asked with a bright smile, as June lit up, saying, "Oh, Randall, that's so wonderful to hear! I hope you two have a fun time-it sounds like you made quite an impression on each other!"

"Look at my boy the charmer!" Wilhelm grinned, reaching over to affectionately ruffle his son's black locks, a gesture that only made Randall's cheeks burn brighter, though his smile didn't fade as his father asked, "Well, tell us about her, lad! What's her name?"

"Her...her name is Emily," Randall smiled warmly, as he took a bite of his chowder.

"She...she's really nice."

#((i like that idea! he's been dreaming about her; and of course he's gonna bring them up)) #((because a) he's dreaming about her and b) they're such strange dreams)) #((at least to him; having no idea that they're memories; not dreams)) #((and perhaps by that point emily just can't keep the ruse up; she can't lie to him any longer)) #((so she comes clean to him-and maybe at first he doesn't believe her; he thinks she's pulling his leg)) #((but maybe something happens that proves it-maybe he has some sort of memory unlocked in that moment)) #((or maybe she proves she's a vampire when he sees she casts no reflection in a mirror?)) #((or she shows him her fangs? something like that? what do you think?)) #outofhatboxes #beatingheart-bride #V:Dark Shadows