#now they're giving us wallpapers?

[ghost-of-you]

5sos: cooked up some wallpapers for you guys 😊

#they are coming for my brand again #like first the transitions #now they're giving us wallpapers? #whats next? #they could hire me #5sos #michael clifford #calum hood #luke hemmings #ashton irwin

[frodolives]

1850s Tumblr Dashboard Simulator

👸🏻 girlbossladyjane Follow

It really makes me sick to see people giving money to penny weeklies when Franklin's expedition STILL has not been found 😭 There are good men out there trapped in unimaginable temperatures and literally all that's needed is a little more funding for another rescue mission yet all you guys seem to care about are your vulgar little stories...

🧔🏻‍♂️ queerqueg Follow

the franklin expedition is dead as hell

👸🏻 girlbossladyjane Follow

Disgraceful thing to say but I'd expect nothing more from a M*lville fan

10,558 notes

👨🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻 hartgrindisreal

Sorry for posting so much about Tom Gradgrind/James Harthouse from Hard Times lately. It turns out that I was getting arsenic poisoning from my wallpaper? Anyway I took a seaside stroll and I'm normal now. Check your walls y'all

#whyyy did i assume they were committing unlawful actions together like where did i even get that from lol #hard times isn't even that good by dickens standards tbh

659 notes

🎨 asherbrowndurand

Just painted this

2 notes

ss-arctic-girlie-deactivated18540927

RIP Napoleon... you may have been unable to conquer Alexander's Russia but you sure as hell conquered Alexander's bed

🖼️ preraphaelitebro Follow

HERITAGE POST

📝 shakespearesforehead Follow

How does this have less than 100k notes you could literally not avoid this post back in the 20s lol

82,170 notes

🌄 loyalromantic Follow

poets just aren't dying young in mysterious water-related incidents like they used to :/

#as useless and degenerative as i find 'the living poets' and i'm glad we're finally moving on from them #i have to agree with op in this respect

6,884 notes

🎀 thefopdiaries Follow

I finally got a daguerreotype of myself ^_^ Porcelain urn for scaling

📜 bartlebi-thescrivener

i think i hauve consumption

112 notes

🐋 whaler4life

They found oil in the ground??? WTF. THIS IS LITERALLY THE WORSTTTT. FUCK MY LIFE FOR REAL THIS TIME

11 notes

🌿 naturesnaturalist Follow

I swear this website has 0 reading comprehension skills. Darwin NEVER claimed we "evolved" from apes like if one of you guys actually bothered to open his new book you'll see all his arguments are backed up by evidence. He actually makes a lot of sense

#sure there's nuance like i don't fully agree with all of it #but his general theory of natural selection seems pretty sound imo

56 notes

🤵🏻‍♂️ byronicherotournament Follow

🙈 butchbronte Follow

Of course these are the finalists lmao this website is so predictable. Anyway vote Heathcliff if you dont i'm going to assume you're a phrenologist

📖 sapphichelenburns Follow

It's not problematic to acknowledge the fact that Heathcliff was a brute like he literally killed dogs in case you forgot. #rochestersweep

🙈 butchbronte Follow

I love the implication here that Rochester never did anything cruel either. He literally locked his wife in the attic and lied to Jane about it 😭 like that was a pretty significant thing that happened

📖 sapphichelenburns Follow

And? God forbid women do anything

#why'd you have to pit two bad bitches against each other #anyway i'm not attracted to men but still went with rochester #bc in terms of living quarters thornfield hall > wuthering heights easily

8,027 notes

👨🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻 hartgrindisreal

Not the Russian tsar dying immediately after hartgrind became canon

#i know dickens hasn't technically confirmed it yet but like. SOMETHING was strongly implied ok #see: my previous post #dickensposting

522 notes

👨🏻‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻 hartgrindisreal

LORD HELP ME. THE BODY LANGUAGE. THE WAY THEY'RE LOOKING AT EACH OTHER. AHHHHHH

#this installment!!! im-- #dickensposting #i can't fucking cope #dickens wants to KILL us he wants us DEAD....

2,309 notes

⭐️ newamerican

Hi guys sorry I haven't been posting lately it's been so difficult getting to California 💀 I'm finally here now though just need to find a pickaxe and soon I'll be digging! :-) wish me luck lol

#gold #gold rush #gold rush grind #california #adventure

0 notes

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Baby fever Scenarios and Headcanons with Husband!Simon "Ghost" Riley (Ghostie)

Thank my baby godson for this one, if it hadn't been for him having me take care of him for the whole day then I wouldn't have anything to write because as of now I have no motivation or ideas to continue my past wips. Render credits are all to the lovely @ave661 who keeps feeding us. My little godson still sleeping on my chest, drool, snore and all as I'm writing this. I can't move, please send help. This is so short too, sorry to disappoint you guys 😭

Y'all CANNOT tell me I'm the only one who thinks of Simon "Ghost" Riley having baby fever from his own children (I would give him more, all he needs to do is ask 😭). Also these are basically moments of Simon with Ghostie, just a bit more general in terms of the baby's gender since some of y'all want boy!dad Simon but originally Ghostie is a girl.

My CoD Masterlist

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @thesnowurzikdjinn @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @cutenote @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @trepaika @starryylies @everlastingmoonlightsworld

❥ Babyfever!Dad!Simon who loves to toss the baby up in the air, simply just for amusement and both of them needed entertainment. Safe to say Soap never did that until the little one was a lot older because when he did it, he ended up with a glob of drool on his face.

❥ Babyfever!Dad!Simon who is always so vocal with his baby, you could just tell the influence of him talking to the baby. Just the rumble of his voice sends the tiny one into a fit of giggles while they're on his chest.

❥ Babyfever!Dad!Simon who was influenced by you to do that viral thing on the internet, people throwing a slice of cheese on their crying baby to make them stop. It worked and they ate it.. now he keeps the fridge stocked with sliced cheese for that reason.

❥ Babyfever!Husband!Simon who was determined to assemble everything, baby's crib, the car seat.. though the bottle sterilizer was something he needed your help with. Both of you trying to figure where the missing piece went only to find your little one chewing on it.

❥ Babyfever!Dad!Simon who comes home late at night yet his little one follows him like a mother duck, as much as he wants to, Simon refused to have contact until he's out and squeaky clean from a shower. Always worrying about how they might catch something from outside while the little one is directly outside the bathroom door waiting for their dad and peeking from the little space underneath the door, knocking every 3 minutes for dada to come out.

❥ Babyfever!Dad!Simon who has the time of his life teaching the baby CPR, it started as a joke between the 141 and now your baby knows the word and knows what to do in response to it, the bunny stuffie is the one receiving the medical attention with the little crisp giggle after Simon praises them.

❥ Babyfever!Dad!Simon who you find laughing his ass off at Soap who was forced by the puppy eyes of your little one to wear a pink tutu that was on the verge of breaking from his size, glittered fairy wings that were made of wire and horrid quality of pink mesh fabric, a plastic tiara and a light up fairy wand. They forced him to do ballet. (Gaz definitely had that as his phone's wallpaper for a month)

❥ Babyfever!Dad!Simon who love cherishing little moments of how the world reminds him of how naive, dumb and gullible his little one could be. Having a leash kid yet for a completely different reason from misbehaving and being too hyperactive. Walking on a bridge with him over a river as a little family outing at the park when your little one pointed at the aggressive stream of water underneath, Simon jokingly asking them if they want to be tossed in and without a word they turn to you with their arms up and wiggling for uppies. When that didn't work they turned to their dad doing the same thing, making Simon chuckle so much that he almost coughed as they slowly let their arms drape back down to their sides, little pout in disappointment. You playfully glared at your husband, having to explain to a toddler why they can't swim in a strong stream of dirty water.

❥ Babyfever!Dad!Simon who is very much amused about how the baby likes his stuble, hoping he won't cause a rash to them because of how much they press their face into his. He makes sure it's extremely well kept after the very first time it happened 😭.

❥ Babyfever!Dad!Simon who loves seeing his toddler in their sleep shirt which is basically just his shirt drooping on the floor because it's too big for them but the they're chunky enough to keep it on themselves. Just thinking of Simon hearing the loud stomps of footsteps approving their bedroom, the short pause of silence before the frantic sound of the door knob jingling, he always knew who was about to enter the room. Holding their bunny stuffie while pulling on the blanket of their dad's side of the bed to ask him for help to climb up.

#cod x reader #aethelwyne lia writes #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #cod headcanons #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost x you #simon riley x plus size reader #simon riley x y/n #ghost x plus size reader #ghost x female reader #ghost drabble #ghost headcanons #ghost x y/n #dad!ghost #dad!simon

[futureman]

a matter of time

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel can't remember the last time he took things slow and let himself feel. you give him a gentle reminder.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, late boston qz era, joel's pov, smut, porn with a twist ending, fingering, unprotected piv, creampie, slow/intimate sex, finger sucking, premature ejaculation, nostalgia, internal monologue, tess doesn't exist

word count: 2.4k

It's been a long time.

Joel's all but forgotten what it feels like when it's this gentle. There's almost a tenderness to it, even though he doesn't know much of anything about you at all. Not your name or how you ended up here in this hellhole of a safe haven.

Nothing but the sweet, tacky taste of your 20-year-old Lip Smacker gloss and the tang of sweat and something sweeter lingering on your skin. But he's learning.

And he likes this new knowledge. Even if he never gets the chance to use it again, he'll devour it hungrily because it's a worthy distraction from the monotony of life in a quarantine zone. Day in and day out, he returns to this shitty apartment with its peeling floral wallpaper and rotting mahogany furniture—memories of a distant past that aren't his own and, yet, sting just as viscerally.

Tonight, the space hums with a different energy. Highlighted by the soft rays of the setting sun, the room's only purpose is to serve as a backdrop to you, and that alone changes everything. Your beauty, your responsiveness, as he lays you across his moth-eaten duvet is reminiscent of a different time, and he'll happily accept that reminder.

It's one of the few pieces of nostalgia that doesn't ache or eat away at him the longer he lets it in. No, you feel good. You're warm against his fingertips, soft and pliant under the path his lips follow from the sticky smear across your cheek, past the breath hitching audibly in your bared throat, down to your soaked, coarse curls.

You want him. More than that, you want to take your time with him, and he's surprised at how much he wants that, too. Trapped within these walls, what else does he have but endless, empty time? And there's nothing he'd love more than to spend it taking care of you, just like you asked him to.

He hovers above you, refusing to part his lips from your body as he urges you up the bed to rest against his pillows. They're flattened and scratchy from years of use and abuse, but they smell like him, and you like it. He can tell. The moment your hair fans across them, rich and lively in contrast, you bury your face into the fabric to breathe him in, and your body's reaction is instantaneous.

Your back arches with a heavy sigh of contentment and your legs fall apart naturally, welcoming him closer, but he waits. Reverently, he slowly leans back onto his heels to appreciate the sight in front of him, and he can't help but feel grateful. You're already glistening for him, preening under his undivided attention as your delicate fingers trail up to your breast to tweak a nipple.

As your eyelashes flutter and a gasp escapes your parted lips, his hand quickly drops to squeeze his twitching cock over his boxers and he keens, nearly doubling over at the pleasure that overcomes him. A coy, knowing smile quirks at the corners of your mouth, and he decides he needs to taste you again. Now.

He lurches forward, and you let out a surprised squeal as he licks into your mouth and commits to memory the faint taste of artificial root beer and mint on your tongue. The familiar fight for dominance he's so used to after years of quick fucks and one-night stands isn't there, and, instead, you set a languid, passionate pace that makes his head spin. It's a slow, deep caress—wet and warm and all-encompassing—and it's everything he hopes fucking you will feel like.

He's so hard it hurts. God, when was the last time he was this fucking hard? He's leaking messily through his boxers, desperate to be touched and enveloped and claimed.

And how could he not be? He's kissing the perfect woman. A patient goddess who's leading his hands across every inch of bare skin, showing him exactly how you like to be stroked and gripped, sighing encouragingly when he heeds your lessons just right.

You're one hell of a teacher, and he thinks he might just be your favorite student. He separates from you with a lewd smack and a string of saliva keeps you connected for a fleeting second before you lean up to lick it off his bottom lip. Your eyes lock with his and they're dark, almost completely consumed by desire, and it's further encouragement to continue on to his next assignment.

This one might just send him over the edge. You guide his hand down to cup your wet heat and you're drenched, dribbling and smearing slick patterns onto his sheets that he'll probably trace with his tongue while he jerks off to the thought of you long after you're gone.

Bathed in the dwindling embers of twilight, your silhouette—the plush slope of your breasts and soft curve of your belly and thighs—is cast around the room in artful shapes and shadows, and he wishes you were a permanent fixture. That your visage covered these walls instead of false depictions of growth and life. It's a dangerous train of thought, but he's too lost in the haze of your warmth and wetness to think about anything else.

He needs to feel you. He needs to fuck you.

He barely even realizes he's already slipped inside you as if he's been there all along, stroking your walls with the rough tips of his middle and ring fingers and honing in on that hidden, spongy spot with such precision, you'd think he'd done it a million times before. Thick, cording veins strain against his forearms as he tenses with the effort of keeping his thrusts long and purposeful, and he watches, captivated, as your cunt sucks him in greedily and fruitlessly tries to hold him inside you.

Tight—fuck. You're so tight. He's bucking into his unoccupied hand, jerking himself off over his boxers, and he doesn't remember when he started, but he can't stop. It feels too good...you feel too good, and the steady, simultaneous rhythm he sets for both of you isn't nearly enough.

Faster. Harder. Still so goddamn tight. He'll never be able to stretch you out enough to take him, and he's starting to worry he'll cum before he even gets the chance to try. His cock throbs violently against his palm, and he bites back a groan at the vision beneath him. Christ, how did you get here?

You can't possibly be real. Your thighs are quaking on either side of his waist and your pussy clenches dangerously hard around his scissoring fingers. There's a thin sheen of sweat matting the wispy hairs around your temples and pooling everywhere your body connects with the mattress, your searingly hot skin an addictive, sticky trap he willingly and faithfully succumbed to.

And those sounds.

You need his cock. Fucking hell, you need it. Greedy, patient, needy fucking woman. He can hear it in your soft pants and hitched breaths. You're quiet and subtle in your pleasure, so unlike any other woman he's ever been with, but when you whimper—fuck. Fuck.

He's going to give it to you. Right now, after taking the time to map and explore and discover, he's going to use his newfound knowledge to hollow you out, then fill you up until you're overflowing with him.

He slows to a stop and pulls his glistening fingers from your cunt, and there's that faint, perfect sound again. A stuttered, broken whimper that lilts with each knuckle that catches on your entrance. He sucks his ring finger into his mouth and adds your taste to his list of all-time favorites, right alongside your Barq's root beer-flavored lip gloss.

Then, he offers you his middle finger, and he swears he can feel your lips sealing tightly around his cock as you wrap them around it. You work your mouth up and down, bobbing your head eagerly like he's about to blow his load down your throat, and—

He's going to fucking cum.

With his finger still nestled between your lips, he wrenches his boxers down his thighs and lines himself up with your entrance, ignoring how close he's suddenly teetering on the edge. His balls are already taut between his legs and it worsens as he inches in his aching, neglected tip.

"S'time, beautiful," he grits out, still tender in his touch as he splays his hand across your waist to stroke your heated skin. "You ready for me?"

You nod quickly, humming your affirmation around him, and he gives you another shallow inch. He was right. No amount of preparation was going to ease the stretch. You're gripping him so hard, it almost hurts, and the thought of how tight you'll be when you cum—he feels delirious with it.

Yes. Yes. Squeeze him. Let him feel you wringing him fucking dry. Let him pump you so full of his release, you'll be dripping him for days, an intimate, lingering reminder of this night. You have no fucking idea how long he's been waiting for this, for you. He doesn't even know your name, but that doesn't matter. Right now, all that matters is this.

This deep-seated, unspoken connection. It's been a long time. And, right now, his time is up.

He slides home in one long, deep thrust, the tip of his cock tenderly nudging your cervix, and your body struggles to accept him. He lights up every nerve ending like a live wire, drags against every sensitive pressure point in perfect succession, and your walls begin to mold around him as if they recognize the sensation. Like your body's remembering him.

Sharp nails dig into his side and drag from his shoulder down to his ass, urging him closer. You're trembling beneath him, your breasts thrumming with sharp, rapid breaths akin to a hummingbird as he fucks you further up the bed, one slow thrust at a time. You're fluttering around him, a delicate spasm and, then, an indicative clench, and it forces a sob from his chest that he barely recognizes.

That's it, beautiful. It's right there. C’mon, give it to me.

He doesn't speak it aloud. He hasn't coaxed or rushed you with his words this entire night and he's not about to start now. He knows, for some inexplicable reason, that he doesn't have to.

But you do. It's barely a whisper—a single, hushed syllable that trembles and passes your lips like a plea. A prayer only he can answer.

"Joel."

Christ. He knows you.

Christ, he's cumming.

His vision whites out, and he's only vaguely aware of his tightening grip on your hips and the long, drawn-out groan that tapers into something devastatingly familiar. Your name.

Now, it's his turn to pray. He repeats it like a mantra, breathing it into your lungs as his lips crash onto yours. It's almost as if he's afraid he'll forget it again if he stops, but your body's response quickly convinces him otherwise.

You bear down on him harder, driven closer and closer to your peak each time he calls out to you, for you. You're molten hot around him, searing each letter into his skin with every pulsing clench of your cunt, and he does the same, thick spurts coating your walls.

He can't help himself. He stays deep—he knows he shouldn't, knows how dangerous the consequences could be, but he needs to—and your ankles digging painfully into his back to hold him in place wordlessly tell him you need it, too.

So good, you're so good. You're perfect. You're his. You're—

Gushing, squeezing, finally moaning for him. You’re cumming.

With it, your orgasm brings every memory of you flooding back at once. Late summer afternoons spent in bed while Sarah visited her grandma. Champagne-flavored kisses on New Year's Eve, soundtracked by Dick Clark and cheers from the crowd in Times Square filtering through the plasma TV in his living room.

He loved you. He loved this. He should've known the moment he kissed you, the moment he saw you, but he's been surviving for so long. He can't remember the last time he lived.

Your limbs surround him, pulling his entire weight down to rest on top of you, and you continue to swivel your hips into his pelvis, riding out your high as his name falls breathily from your lips. He works you through it, frantically blinking away the sudden blur that engulfs his vision so he doesn't miss out on another moment with you. Not ever again.

He's...he's crying. He didn't even know he was capable of that anymore. Sensitivity starts to set in, in more ways than one, but he doesn't want to leave the heat of your embrace. He thinks he might break at the sight of his cum leaking out of you and seeping into the undeserving fabric of his co-opted sheets, far away from where it belongs.

But, then, your lips meet his tanned, weathered cheek—a stark contrast to the young man he was when he was yours—and you kiss away his tears. He feels more fragile than he has in decades, and that's surprisingly okay. Because you're here to protect him, now.

Trailing from the apple of his cheek to his lips, up to the years of tension creasing his forehead, back down to kiss him tenderly, you establish a comforting repetition. He chases you every time you part, but, after a while, he's struck with a realization. What you've been trying to convey with your actions all night.

You always return to him. So, maybe this was just a matter of time. A slow smile spreads across that beautiful face he hadn't allowed himself to think about since the outbreak, and you huff out an affectionate laugh, your fingertips curiously running across his back and tracing raised lines and jagged shapes you've never felt before.

"Hi, Joel," you murmur fondly, still close enough for the tacky remains of your gloss to catch his bottom lip, and his tongue darts out to taste you.

It's real—it's too vivid not to be real. His eyes dart between yours, and he can still see everything your future together was supposed to hold. He still sees forever.

"Hey, baby," he rasps, his voice thick with tears and disuse, and something unidentifiable that sounds a lot like hope.

He hasn't felt this way in a long time. Not since you.

thanks for reading!

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

[ssahotchnerr]

Can I request a fic based on these thought ❤️Aaron would 100% be the kind of dad that would spend all night building a barbie house or dolls house and would also very willingly sit and play barbie’s with his daughters.

well worth it

YOU'RE SO RIGHT THAT'S TOO CUTE cw; girl dad!aaron, bau!fem!reader, fluff <3

growing impatient and nearly beginning to doze off without him, you exited your bedroom in search of aaron. you've waited all day to be cozied up with him, and you simply couldn't wait any longer.

you've been comfortably waiting for over an hour; having gone through your full night routine, getting into bed, reading a few chapters of your current read. aaron even came in to change into his pajamas at one point, but trailed out again.

"hey you," you peeked your head into the living room, finding aaron laying stomach-down on the plush carpet. "you coming to bed? it's getting late."

"in a minute." aaron mumbled gently in response, his voice vaguely muffled into whatever it was he had in front of him. "as soon as i finish up here."

you ventured further into the room in curiosity, the closer proximity allowing you to see your daughter's new dollhouse set before him.

your nose crinkled lightly in amusement, a small smile forming on your face. and as if aaron could sense it - he peered up at you, a matching smile on his own lips as he saw your tickled expression, his brown eyes aglow.

"i promised i would have it ready in the morning." aaron admitted with a soft chuckle as he sat up, you scrambling down on the carpet to join him. "it's done, there's just so many damn stickers that have to be in certain spots." he grabbed the instruction pamphlet, studying it for a moment. "wallpaper for every room, that was a pain. things like a bath rug for the bathroom. even some go on the furniture - they're tiny, tiny stickers..."

as he trailed on and on, listing all the details, you fell quiet the more you followed along to his words, your eyes analyzing his face in slight astonishment.

"what?" aaron laughed breathlessly again, his eyebrows furrowing quizzically as he tossed the pamphlet aside, the paper creating a fluttering sound as it fell. he grasped onto the sticker sheet once more, his lips drawing into a frustrated line as he struggled to peel one off - his large hands all to blame.

"it still surprises me out of nowhere sometimes, despite how much time has passed." you shook your head slightly in content, swiping the sheet from his hands. you easily removed the sticker, handing it to him. "you're listing off the necessities for a dollhouse. for our daughter. there was a time where the most i heard you talk was while giving a profile, and just, here we are now. i dunno, does that make sense?"

"completely." aaron agreed as his smile retook form on his face, placing the sticker where it belonged. "happens to me every day. how lucky i am to have you. never thought i'd be dad to another, yet alone a girl dad at that."

"it suits you." you grinned, leaning over to press a quick kiss to his cheek. "want some help? anything to get you to bed sooner."

aaron looked at the instructions again, a soft hum leaving his mouth as he thought. "again, it's pretty much finished foundation wise. but if you wanna start setting the furniture inside, be my guest darling."

side by side, the two of you worked together, rather giddily at that. quiet quips, playful comments how your own home could use these and whatnot (aaron groaned at your suggestion of wallpaper). warm but soft laughter, to prevent waking up jack and your little girl. you continued to help aaron peel the stickers as needed, and he, the notorious stickler, double checked you were putting items in the correct places 'according to the instructions'. you both knew once your daughter had her hands on her dollhouse, would nothing remain where it belonged, but that didn't stop him from teasing you; "did you put it in the-" "aaron, yes!"

finally, once in bed with aaron at your backside this time, one of his arms draped securely around your waist, you fell asleep with the heartwarming thought that your daughter's very first request in the morning - after her initial excitement - would be for aaron to play dolls with her. and of course, would he comply (just for a bit, and as long as she finished breakfast first). five minutes would surely turn into ten, fifteen, twenty depending on how early she awoke.

such brought up the potential risk of aaron being late to work, but if it allowed just a few more smiles to come from baby girl, it was well worth it.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #criminal minds drabble #aaron hotchner drabble #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #hotch imagine #criminal minds x fem!reader

[petermorwood]

As mentioned more than once, @dduane's Middle Kingdoms don't have potatoes. A frequent alternative is parsnips, and the fried cakes in that photo are the result of an experiment done earlier this week to see if parsnips can substitute for potatoes in our always-reliable potato cake recipe.

Yes, they can!

*****

Here's @dduane's recipe.

First peel three regular-sized parsnips. then top and tail them.

Chop them into chunks and boil them in about 2 pints (1 litre) of water.

Drain them and return to the pan: let them steam dry. Then, while still hot, mash them well with a hand masher and allow to cool completely.

As mentioned further down, parsnips retain more water than potatoes even after steam-drying, so DON'T use a food processor or other power appliance for mashing or the result will be parsnip wallpaper paste. However, a processor is ideal for the rest of the recipe.

Put 2 cups (500g) all-purpose flour and ½ tsp salt into the processor bowl, blip the pulse switch to combine them then add 1½ tsp baking powder and blip again.

Now add 3 tablespoons butter and blip the pulse switch until the butter is completely worked in and the whole mixture has a cornmeal-y texture.

Now add the cooled mashed parsnips.

Process with the flour mixture, pulsing at first, then continuously, until the mixture comes together in a dough.

(If yours behaves the way our recipe did, no additional liquid should need to be added. The parsnips hold onto a surprising amount of water even after being steamed dry.)

Flour a work surface, roll the dough out about 1/3 inch (1 cm) thick, and use a sharp biscuit cutter to cut out into rounds. Then heat cooking oil in a frying pan to medium heat and put five or six of the cakes into the hot oil.

Fry until the cakes begin to rise a little (usually 4-5 minutes) and are going golden brown Turn and fry the cakes on their other sides for another 4-5 minutes. Test one for doneness: if necessary, turn the cakes once more and give them another 5 minutes or so.

Then cook the rest of the cakes in the same way. When they're done cooking, drain on paper towels until they're cool. Eat fresh or, to keep them, put them in a biscuit tin or other airtight container.

They'll keep for a few days. The parsnip flavor mellows somewhat the day after you bake them.

Like their potato-cake cousins, they're very good split, toasted, buttered and topped with a slice of cheese or (and) salami. They also shine as an accompaniment to bacon or sausages; give the parsnip cakes a brief re-fry in the fat left from frying these, then serve alongside the fried meats, dressed with a splash of Worcester or HP sauce and maybe a dotting of Tabasco or similar.

Our next experiment will be to make this recipe with the addition of some crumbled crispy bacon, grated cheese, grated onion or a combination of same.

The experiment after that will be to see if this can become parsnip bread in the same way as Irish potato farls. I think it will... :->

#food and drink #food and cooking of the middle kingdoms #parsnips #potato cakes #parsnip cakes

[ketterdamskaelishprince]

lenore and the yellow wallpaper (a ramble)

so this is all one entire big and large ramble session from me, so ignore if you want because this has no actual point, and i also haven't touched the yellow wallpaper since i handed it in with my coursework so i'm bound to get things wrong. this is no high-brow analysis, this is just be rambling. i've finally gotten the courage as well to go on the big scary tumblr and speak so be nice please :)

anyways, now we have that out of the way– i bring you my observation.

so i've been rereading nevermore (because i am deep in the trenches of my hyperfixation on it right now and have firmly planted myself there) and i noticed something in episode 21 that i remember noticing the first time.

just for a recap, episode 21 is when they're facing the dementophobia trial, and lenore has gotten herself sucked into a hallucination. through this, we (presumably along with her) are shown parts of her past, and the fallout of her brother dying. in a long scene, we basically see the attic which lenore is forced to 'rest' in.

sorry if this is like an obvious tell, but my little rat brain was vibrating out of my seat to say this.

well, first off, let me just give you a little summary of the yellow wallpaper. we have this nameless woman (who's married) who's also our narrator, her husband: john who's a doctor and we also have john's sister: jennie. jennie isn't too important in the summary but she exists and stuff and there's loads of journals out there probably that could tell you super interesting things about her role in the story.

anyways, i digress. the narrator has been diagnosed with slight nervous tendencies and is given the rest cure therapy as treatment. she ends up slowly going insane in the attic (?) which doubles as a nursery, and there's this fugly yellow wallpaper, which the narrator comments to be basically like a crime to art and to colour in general. anyways, the more she stares at this wallpaper and the longer she stays in the attic, she starts to see a woman behind the wallpaper– and the short story ends with her ripping the wallpaper off and freeing the woman but then also, the story ends essentially with her throwing herself out of the window of the attic and yeah, suicide. there's like allusions to the woman behind the wallpaper and her being one at the end, but WE AREN'T FOCUSSING ON THAT, i've rambled enough.

anyways, how does this all link to nevermore?

THIS PANEL RIGHT HERE.

idk, the act of ripping off the wallpaper just distinctly reminded me of the yellow wallpaper, and i have no idea if the creators drew inspo from the yellow wallpaper for this or if it was one of poe's works (i'm not heavily versed in all of his works, but i have a collection of his stuff i should probably sift through and read). but yeah, thought it was cute.

i know thematically they probably vary, but there is something to be said that both of them are in a situation where society wants so badly to silence them and punishes their defiance with the diagnosis 'madness'.

i dunno, just a nice little thought. there's also the whole rest cure therapy too, and the fact that they're both in the attics of their homes– and i presume lenore is in a secluded countryside place here like the narrator of the yellow wallpaper is. so, you know– other connections!

also, as a side note–

this bad boy right here? ether? well some ether smells sweet, so i thought maybe (as a very dumb end to this ramble) that maybe, lenore associates the sweet smelling scent of what she used to be knocked out with to the sweet scent of flowers– i have no idea if that's why she hates flowers but i thought that was a fun little mention. food for thought, you know?

anyways, if you disagree that is totally ok, i truly don't know what i'm talking about half the time, but this has been bouncing on my tiny brain for the past few days and i decided i needed to let it out before i start plaguing the people i know in real life with my obsession. and also, friends, feel free to correct me if i'm disgustingly wrong on anything– i love to learn <3

and... yeah, that's all folks. gonna go rot now :)

#nevermore webtoon #lenore nevermore #nevermore webcomic #lenore vandernacht #lenore is so mad woman luv her very much #the yellow wallpaper enthusiasts forgive me if i sinned with this one #nevermore #i love my little psycho sapphic comic i read every friday !

[brainr0t-landfill]

🌃 Mercurial

ghoap x male reader

Chapter Four: Nausea

"I will poison all your happy times, I will love you like the ashes in my cigarette box."

-The Crane Wives, Tounges and Teeth

(money insecurity, unhealthy relationship, implied homelessness, anxiety)

The on the road life is better suited for you, you feel more secure with the peeling, old wallpapers of whichever hotel you end up in than the walls you had painted with Johnny the beds reeking of mildew feel more familiar than the wide warm one you used to share with them.

Faces forgotten before you can commit them to memory, places gone with nothing to mourn them by, nightly vigels to the best thing that ever happened to you spent anxiously looking out foggy windows for any silhoutte resembling theirs, listening for uniform footsteps louder than an earthquacke and as familiar as the little compartment you've sewn in your backpack, containing a new ID, fake passoport ,ever-changing burner phones and your unstable money supply.

You're in your element when no one knows you, when people don't commit your face to memory, when they're ingenuine and changing. it's familiar and homey when you know every escape route and every card in the deck, it's not so familiar too with the ever present threat of being found breathing down your neck, you know too well how attached they are and how many strings they have to pull, you've seen it firsthand.

Even then you can't blame them, they fell for someone they thought was good and from this distance it's easier then ever to paint yourself as the villan, the one who stirred the water when all was well, pushed buttons he knew he shouldn't have pushed, tested boundaries that had been set in stone when they were finnaly comfortable, when all was finnaly well.

It started out small, just a way to relieve your tension, just a way to adjust and get some breathing room;

It was the small ritualistic details you started neglecting at first, not stocking the pantry, keeping the house messy before they came home from deployments, not kissing them goodnight or goodbye. They didn't get mad, they didn't even notice, John stepped up readily when you neglected the house and Simon happily went out for groceries whenever you 'forgot', and that set you off worst. The little things you'd built your life, your place in the relationship around where unimportant to them, just something someone else could do without much fuss.

Then it was keeping the door unlocked on the night you knew they'd be coming home, sleeping on the couch by yourself with the excuse of 'feeling smothered', going out and not telling them whene you were going or when you'd be back knowing you were leaving then anxious and frazzled worried for your safety and nothing else, they were good, too good for somone like you. So good that Simon sat you down and explained that he understood you needed some space and that them being gone one day and then then being so present and loud could be hard to get used to.

"Me 'n Johnny just want ya safe angel."

Simon and that understanding smile on his face, always considerate and understanding to the people he loved like a wise parent lecturing a misbehaving yet well meaning child. You spat in the face of that.

"You both are overreacting Si, I know y'all got this skewed view of the world because the military n shit but I'm an adult, I don't need bodyguards."

His face fell, John turned around momentarily to check on the conversation.

"It's not like that, 'n you should know by now. We love you, we want you safe, you're the one with the skewed view and if you keep this bullshit up there's gonna be reprucussions-"

"Simon."

John cut in walking over to the kitchen table and giving him a look, Simon deflated running a hand over his face and you felt the familiar pain of being a disappointment, of misguiding and upsetting. It was wose when you know you love them and do it anyway knowing the things they'd been through.

"Sorry.."

You mumble, his dark eyes soft as they met yours. His bare hands clasped on his lap, he's rubbing his own knuckles.

"Jus' - jus' be safe yeah? Take care o' yourself when we can't, keep our heads clear? For us, angel."

You nodded knowing full well that despite your guilt you had found a nerve and you weren't the good person you had cruelly convinced them you were. You revealed in uncertainties and tension, you hadn't been anywhere this long since your teenage years when you got kicked out. You weren't deserving of this care, this love so you were doing the right thing driving them away or perhaps you just liked being cared for in such avident and raw way either way you were dead weight at best and a parasite at worst.

The tension rose when you kept doing it, John was the first to snap when you introduced them as your friends to some work acquaintances. He broke down, screamed raw and bloody, punched a wall and pulled out his hair as Simon desperately tried to play mediator.

"How could ye?! How fucking could ye, you ungrateful, lying cunt!"

John screamed as you stood leaning against the wall his knuckles were still kissed white and bleeding from the hole they had left in the drywall. His aquamarine eyes squinted and wet, his breaths quick and shallow like a wounded bird.

"We live together! We sleep in the same god damn bed, that's my sweater on ye back, 'n ye sit there and call us your mates?! Yer buddies?! I swear to fucking god ye better have brain damage or I wi-"

Simon grabbed him by the shoulders before he could go on any further. You understood why he was mad, he had opened his heart out to someone he had trusted for so long not knowing he was a snake in the grass, he wanted his love, his safe space, his importance in your life validated especially after all the anxiety you had put them both through with your planned recklessness.

And you broke, in retrospect it could have been so much better if you hadn't, maybe then you'd have some resentfull exs instead of this manhunt with every card stacked against you.

You sobbed, apologized over and over again, promised you'd be better, promised you'd behave, you loved them, you really loved them, the pain in Johnny's voice was unlike anything you'd seen and you meant it too. You didn't wanna be stranded and drifting again, by yourself in the world.

"Ye know we won't ever let ye go angel, promise."

You broke your promises time and time again, they snapped and you broke, but guilt wasn't enough to scratch this constant itch under your skin. Waiting, salivating for when they finnaly got fed up with you like everyone else, it enraged you when they didn't.

Shit hit the fan when you spent two nights at a friend's house and kept your phone on silent, came home with her perfume spritzed on your neck, then you ended up in the cabin and realized some bonds had to be severed phisicaly.

So here you are now, in the roadie lifestyle you're used to, overgrown beard and bloodshot eyes, feet bloody and swollen in your shoes, always cold, always tired, never quite clean. Walking home with a measly paycheck in your pocket and TV dinner in a shopping bag, you're always tense, always on edge knowing full well they've most likely moved on, hopefully.

Life on the road isn't as secure as it used to be, not when their love made you soft and comfortable.

You miss warm beds, you miss a stable job and your warm clean home but most importantly you miss them, you miss them like an amputated limb, like you can reach out and feel the muscles hanging loose, the veins burst and drooling where you hacked them off; it's easier to deal with when you remind yourself people like you don't deserve things like that.

You're just outside your hotel rooms door when some primal, animal instinct straightens your spine, something isn't right.

You look inside from the windows check inside, your measly possessions are all where they ought to be, just when you're about to close to door you see them.

Footsteps, on the snow, big, bigger than yours and deep, pure snow filthied by mud somone tried to cover them up but they're still there.

You can't tell if they're combat boots that John favoured or the hiking shoes Simon sweared by but it sets you off anyways, primal fear and anxiety, restlessness churning in your gut as you pack all of your belongings.

Same game, new rules.

<< Next Chapter / Next Chapter >>

#ghoap x reader #ghoap x male reader #cod x male reader #mercurial #cod x reader #john mactavish x male reader #john mactavish x reader #simon riley x male reader #simon x reader x johnny #tw poverty #tw implied abuse #tw violence

[suguwu]

gothic romance au, hints of vampire!zhongli, gender neutral reader.

wc: 1.4k

minors and ageless blogs dni. divider by @/cafekitsune.

there is a house upon the hill.

the garden it sits in is lush, though the roses are ruined now, their petals dashed against the dirt. they eddy in the rainwater, pearly pink and swirling around like little sailboats caught in the wind. the house cranes towards the weeping sky, the parapets gone dark with the rain, all slick, old stone. it should be a hulking beast, massive as it is, but there's an elegance to it, the curve of a dancer's back.

and there is a light in the window.

you step carefully over the puddles, dancing between the little ponds of them. the scent of wet loam washes over you as you make your way through the garden, thick and earthy. your pace slows as the house draws near; something flickers through you, a guttering candle. still, you move onwards, ducking into the entryway that frames an imposing door. you search but there is no doorbell.

you rap your knuckles against the old wood instead, the sound deep and hollow. you've just barely withdrawn your hand when the door swings open, a golden hue spilling forth, a baptism of light.

it matches the eyes of the man in the doorway.

they're the color of amber shot through by sunlight, striking in a way that makes you ache. they're beautiful. he's beautiful, you realize, as he blinks slowly at your bedraggled form.

"hi," you say, heat rising to your cheeks. "my car broke down, a bit down the road. i was hoping i could use your phone?"

"you must have come far," he says, looking out into the rain, where the trees have become mere shadows in the gloom. "and in this rain, too."

you shift. "uh, yeah, i guess," you say.

he hums and you think of the crash of waves upon the shore, the whisper of the pebbles it carries back into the mouth of the sea. "i see."

"could—could i use your phone?"

he focuses on you, his golden eyes knife-edged, the type of gaze that flays you down to your marrow, and a shiver curls up your spine.

"my apologies. please come inside."

"oh, i could just use your cell phone—"

"i'm afraid i only keep a landline," he says.

you falter for a moment. he meets your gaze again and a small smile flickers on his lips, a sickle moon curve. his eyes gleam.

you step over the threshold.

he closes the door behind you; it clicks into place quietly, but it echoes through you like the toll of a dour bell.

"this way," he says.

you follow him deeper into the house.

"my name is zhongli," he tells you. you give him your own name in return, and he says it, rolls each syllable of it over his tongue as if he's tasting it. a hint of a smile settles in the corner of his lips, tucked away like a secret. "it's a lovely name."

"um, thanks."

he sweeps down the hallway; you quicken your pace to match his long legs. you glance around as you go, taking in the thick wallpaper, lushly patterned with swooping swallows, and the portraits in their elegant frames, their eyes glistening in the low light. you shiver and push a little closer to zhongli.

he comes to a halt before a door and gestures you in. "i'll fetch you a towel," he says. "you must be cold."

a shiver runs through you as he says it, the chill of the house finally sinking through your skin. "thanks," you say. "i appreciate it."

he nods. "of course."

you watch as he strides down the hallway, elegant and purposeful, like each movement is thought out. the tail of his jacket disappears and you turn back to the door he'd left you in front of.

the handle is ornate and crystalline; it reminds you of a spider's web in moonlight. you twist it and come away with a pattern pressed into your skin; you trace your thumb over it as you step inside.

the room is cavernous, a maw of a thing. something unfurls inside you. the phone—a rotary phone, of all things—is tucked away on a writing desk, next to a rolodex. you flip through it, the sound of the paper loud in the quiet room, and find a tow truck company.

you trace your fingers along the desk as the phone rings. you wince as you knock a few papers loose, but can't help but peek at the elegant handwriting staining the page. you read a few lines of it—a beautiful poem, with a few words slashed out of existence with an angry pen—before the line clicks on.

the tow truck dispatcher is kind, but it will be hours before anyone can make it to you.

you tell zhongli as much when he returns.

"ah," he says, handing you a towel, a huge, fluffy cloud of material. "i was afraid that might be the case. you must stay until they arrive."

"i don't want to put you ou—"

"it is no trouble," he says, his eyes gleaming. "stay."

he guides you to the chaise, a large hand cupped over the small of your back. you can't feel the heat of him through your damp clothing, but you can feel the weight of his touch, an anchor dragging through the depths.

"i'm afraid i'm unused to having guests," he says, settling down on the chair across from you. "but i may be able to provide some sustenance if i look hard enough."

"it's fine," you say. "thank you, though."

"of course."

you play with the edge of a nearby pillow; it's silken and slips through your fingers like water.

"the poem," you say. "did you write it?"

he raises a brow.

your cheeks heat. "sorry," you say. "i saw it when i was on the phone."

he smiles softly. "you need not apologize," he says. "but yes, i wrote it. would you like to hear more about it?"

you blink. his amber eyes shine in the light, a firefly flicker. "sure," you say. "if you don't mind."

"i do not."

he spins out his poem, each word perfectly placed, and starts to explain his thoughts behind it. his voice is calm and sonorous; it echoes through you, settles into your bones. you blink, eyelids drooping, and see the smallest flash of teeth across the way.

you don't remember falling asleep.

zhongli wakes you when the tow truck arrives. his touch is gentle, but it flashes through you like cold fire, sending you jolting up. he steadies you with one large hand.

"i apologize," he says. "i didn't mean to frighten you."

"oh my god," you say. "i fell asleep?"

"you did."

"i am so sorry," you say, cheeks hot. "that was so rude of me—"

"it's of little consequence," he says. "you were exhausted from the rain and the walk. i do not mind."

"i'm still sorry."

he smiles. "come," he says. "the truck is out front."

the two of you pause in the hallway, at the threshold of the door. zhongli watches you, his honey-gold eyes glowing like the sunset.

"thank you," you say. "i don't know what i would have done without you."

"you're welcome," he says. "go on, now. the truck won't wait forever, i'm afraid."

"thank you again," you say, pulling on your shoes.

he says something, low and rumbling, but you can't quite grasp it.

"what?"

"good luck," he says. you blink. "with your car."

"thanks," you say, and then you're out into the rain, darting into the tow truck's cab.

as the truck pulls out, you glance back at the doorway.

there's a flash of gold.

you turn around and direct the driver to your car.

the next night, you dream.

you dream of the burning silver of a shooting star; of the slate-gray teeth of the hungry sea. of a house that pierces the sky like a blade. of amber shot through with sunlight.

you're damp when you wake, the dream having seared through you, and you are up far before the sun.

you start the car with no destination in mind. the road is empty; the signs flash by like streaks of lightning, until they give way to the woods.

the air is cool and scented with petrichor; it nips at you, a warning bite. you ignore it and gaze ahead of you.

there is a house upon the hill.

you start up the path.

#genshin x reader #zhongli x reader #bee writes genshin #.zhongli

[moodywyrm]

basketball!abby is so in denial before her n reader get together (as always, chubby!reader cs she is me n i am her n we just love abby <3333)

anywayyy, abby always says her relationships are not that serious and jus pure fun cs all the girls she's with jus wanna fuck but when you come into her life??? and treat her like A PRINCESS?!!!?! SHE'S SO HEAD OVER HEELS BUT SO IN DENIAL over if you like her or not!! (you do)

like, 'yea we're not together but look at this picture of her i set as my wallpaper :]' , or 'nah, we're jus friends but we have matching bracelets n i HAVE to wear them at all times cs she made them or it's rude! >:(' n 'she doesn't like me or anything but she made me a playlist, my fav food >///<'

all her friends are literally like 'yeaaa.... mkay - _ -' n as soon as you n abby get together!! they're telling you everything!!! 'yea this dork refused to admit she liked you cs you're the first girl to genuinely love her right, they're still a little skeptical but what sells them is when abby comes to practice (wearing your bracelet n a pink water bottle bedazzled by you) n her hair done into two Dutch-braids

cs abby doesn't let ANYONE touch her hair, n when you pick her up from practice with flowers, snacks for everyone n wearing a necklace with her initial (your bday gift that was actually your idea) n abby literally starts buzzing n GLOWING the minute they mention you're here, they KNOWWW that you guys will last for a LONGGGGGG time

- 💌

baby this is so fuckign cute im gonna scream. bonus point uhh listen to Therese by Maya Hawke if you want to fuckign Cry over this. also we're combining this with the bookworm reader universe bc I said so and it gives us an entry point

because that's correct! After Owen, when Abby realized she liked women, she was having just a rotation of (safe) hookups. Hence her and Manny's scheduled debriefs. But then you showed up! You two met in her class and suddenly she didn't really want any of her hookups? suddenly she was replacing 11pm hook ups with 11am 'bookclub meetings' and coffee dates, explaining to her hookups that she just wasn't really interested anymore

but she's Not developing romantic feelings. No (liar). she wants you physically, yeah, she thinks you're fucking gorgeous, but she also just wants to be your friend. your very good friend. it doesn't matter that you make her giddy when you text her good morning, asking about her day, telling her about things in your day that reminded you of her. bringing her coffee and snacks when she's studying, filling up her water bottle before she heads off to practice. comforting her when the overwhelming crush of anxiety that comes with college starts to weigh on her. complimenting her hair when she, for the first time in years, comes to class with it not in a braid. doesn't matter that she thinks of you when she goes to bed and when she wakes up and she dreams of you sometimes, that she daydreams about you. doesn't matter that she hasn't hooked up or even considering anyone else in the time that she's known you, or that she's told all her friends about you. doesn't matter that her wallpaper is a picture of the two of you at a vintage market that you dragged her to.

but her friends see all of that! they see the smile on her face when she's texting you or talking to you or talking about you or thinking about you. the way she sits down and eats the snacks you prepared for her after practice, sharing lil bits with Nora (who now loves your cooking and needs Abby to get it together so she can get more). they see the way she starts spending more time in the library so you two can study together, sometimes they even spot her when you two are studying in a lil corner, tucked together and whispering to each other, the both of you smiling like fools. they know she is in Deep man. but she still won't admit it!!

Every time someone brings you up, she's just like "Yeah we're really good friends :)" and in reality she has developed such crippling romantic feelings she wants to baby you and be babied by you and adore you and do all of that romantic crap she saw in movies as a kid.

And all her friends are like "Friends. Uh-huh." while very pointedly staring at the TWO bracelets you made her, one beaded and one made of embroidery thread, as well as the lil ribbon braid you tied around her water bottle, all the lil gifts you've given her. They see how you look at her, like she hung the moon in the night sky, how soft you get with her and only her. And vice versa! They see how gentle Abby – Abby, who Owen called mean and snarky when they were dating, who was known for being kind of cocky and a jerk to people who didn't really know her – is with you, how kind and how sweet, how she always considers your needs. They know you're meant to be together, it's just a matter of when.

So none of them are surprised when Abby tells them that you made a move! You kissed her during one of your movie nights, and that was that! And everyone is like fucking finally girl. But the ones who are really concerned are Nora and Manny, who love Abby to bits and want nothing but the best (that autocorrected to Thebes and it made me giggle, thought you should know) for her. And they haven't seen her this intensely in love like ever, so they're scared!

But then Manny is hanging out with Nora and the team before practice, and Abby comes in and they just pause. Because her hair is braided into two braids, which she never does on herself, her bracelets looped around the neck of her water bottle, which has your ribbons tied around it. And she looks So Happy. Manny and Nora share this look and it's just pure platonic love and happiness and knowing that Abby, their Abby, found her person. Because No One is allowed to touch her hair, she didn't even like it when Owen did it. But here she is, hair neatly combed and parted and braided, tied at the ends with two hair ties in your favorite color.

Manny stays for the duration of practice, helping out where he can, but he's not on the court so he's the first one to see you step in, wearing shorts and one of Abby's zip up hoodies, the zipper lowered enough to show a cute lil "A" charm strung onto your everyday necklace. In your hands is a mini cooler holding snacks for the team, and when you announce your presence, everyone, and I mean Everyone, sees Abby light up. Like a fucking firefly (pun not intended).

Immediately she's off the court, running towards you, letting you set the cooler down before scooping you up in a hug, pressing a kiss to your lips before pulling away and going "Hi honey" in the sweetest, if exhausted, tone.

Nora and Manny are just watching from the sidelines, munching on the snacks you brought, looking at Abby and how fucking happy she looks. They genuinely don't think they've ever seen her look this happy with anyone before, but they're glad. Because they watch you shove her water bottle into her hands, insisting she take a drink while you grab her a special snack, pulling her over to the bench and making sure she eats before you two head home. And they see how gentle, but firm, you are with her. How you brush her hair away from her face, how you redo a braid that's started to come loose, taking care not to pull at her hair. And they see how Abby places a kiss at your knuckles, holding your hand so softly, being so sweet with you.

Yeah, they really fucking glad you two found each other.

#💌 anon #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson fluff #abby anderson x reader fluff

[steddie-there]

Eddie has a lot of nicknames for Steve - Stevie, sweetheart, big boy, baby, darlin', it seems like he adds new ones every week - and Steve adores every single one. The way Eddie beams when he says "Stevie." How he winks when he calls him "darlin'." The once over he gives Steve as he tacks on a "big boy" to whatever it is he just said that Steve can't properly process now because all he can do is stare at Eddie's lips.

But Steve's favorite?

It's the day his parents call to say they aren't coming back to Hawkins. That the house in the Hamptons is just so much more comfortable for the two of them. That they don't care what he does with the other house, the house he grew up in, the house he still lives in, as long as they don't have to deal with it. He doesn't even hear the flimsy excuses they give for leaving him behind because all it sounds like to Steve is "whatever you do, just don't bother us anymore."

He wants to scream, to smash something, to tear the entire house to pieces when he hangs up the phone. But what he does instead is lay on his bed, his arms wrapped around his knees, staring at the wallpaper he wishes he could set on fire.

Which is how Eddie finds him an hour later when he comes over for their weekly movie night.

"Stevie?" he calls, coming up the stairs, worry in his voice. Steve can hear him pause in the doorway before he comes over to the bed. Feels the mattress dip as Eddie sits next to him.

"Hey, sunshine," he says and Steve hasn't heard that one before but it doesn't really matter at the moment.

"Not feeling particularly sunny right now, Eds," he scoffs. Or tries, since his voice is a lot wobblier than he wants it to be.

Eddie doesn't say anything, just lays a gentle hand on Steve's shoulder, tugs a little to get Steve to turn toward him. He resists for half a second, but he also can't deny Eddie anything, even now, so he rolls to face him.

"Storm clouds, thunder, rain, doesn't really matter, you're still my sunshine," Eddie murmurs with a soft smile, pushing Steve's hair back from his face.

And Steve can't help it then, can't stop the sob that tears from his chest as he curls against Eddie. Eddie, who doesn't even know what happened yet, doesn't know why Steve is sobbing into his shoulder, doesn't know that Steve isn't wanted, but who wraps him up in his arms and hangs on tight anyway.

He's humming something as he rubs a hand up and down Steve's back, the vibrations rumbling into Steve's chest and its soothing and soon Steve's sobs are hiccuping breaths. Eddie doesn't let go though, doesn't move away, and now he's softly singing into Steve's ear and Steve almost wants to laugh because of course that's what he's singing. Of course he is.

But Steve doesn't laugh because it's perfect actually and so he just tucks his face against Eddie's neck and listens and breathes and decides it doesn't matter if his parents don't want him because Eddie does. Because with every note Eddie is telling him he makes him happy, that he loves him, that he doesn't ever want to lose him.

And Steve is finally able to lean back just a little, tell Eddie what happened. Sees the storm clouds roll over Eddie's face on his behalf, knows he really does mean it when he tells Steve he'll help him burn down that house in the Hamptons if he wants. Presses their foreheads together with a shaky laugh as he tells Eddie its okay, he's okay, he's going to be okay.

Eddie sighs, softly kisses his cheek. "What can I do to help?"

"Stay?" Steve asks, "Just stay with me?"

And Eddie is nodding, shifting so he can lay down and tuck Steve tight against him. They're quiet now and Steve listens to the beat of Eddie's heart, feels it pulse against the hand he has splayed across Eddie's chest. Tentatively asks, "Could you maybe keep singing? Until -"

Until what? Until he falls asleep? Until it doesn't hurt anymore? Until he really believes what Eddie was singing?

But it doesn't matter because Eddie just starts humming right where he left off and Steve falls asleep to words he can feel in the vibrations of Eddie's voice under his ear and the soothing fingertips moving up and down his arm.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine.

So, yeah, sunshine is definitely Steve's favorite nickname.

You make me happy when skies are gray.

Because when he has a rotten day - he has to deal with a terrible customer or the teens are being particularly bratty or the whine of the dying vcr at work rewinding a tape sounded a little too much like a horde of demon bats shrieking across the sky -

You'll never know dear how much I love you.

Eddie takes one look at him and gives him that certain soft smile. "C'mere, sunshine," he says, laying down on the couch and pulling Steve on top of him, running gentle fingers through his hair. And he quietly sings until Steve's shoulders relax and his breath evens out and there is no place else in the world he would rather be.

Please don't take my sunshine away.

#steddie #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #i just really love the idea of eddie thinking of steve as the bright point of his universe #and calling him sunshine because thats what steve is to him - this beautiful blazing bright person who he loves and who loves him in return #and also i love this song because its simple but it really says so much #also as good as fics with steves parents/dad being abusive assholes can be #i subscribe to the 'steves parents are incredibly neglectful' headcanon #as far as im concerned they started abandoning him as soon as he stopped being a toy for them to dress up and force to play perfect family

[sweaterkittensahoy]

CleganMarge Wedding Stuff

The night before the wedding, there's a party at the house Buck and Marge will share after they're married. Buck's been living there since he got back and Marge picked it out. She comes over every day to put up wallpaper and place furniture and laugh at Buck's attempts to paint a straight line.

John looks around the house and sees them both all over it. A blue he knows Marge prefers because she has dresses that color. A living room set in a masculine tan but with overlarge cushions so Buck can nap to his heart's content. Books everywhere, all propped up by little wooden bookends that Buck made himself in the little shed in the yard.

The dining room sparkles from the fancy lighting fixture to the floor, and John grins at the fixture as he takes his seat at the table. He'd helped Buck wire it in yesterday evening when he'd arrived, Marge supervising for a few minutes before running to her mother's house to put the parachute silk John had brought to its intended use.

"You absolutely sweet man!" Marge had crowed when she'd unwrapped the tissue paper from the bundle.

"I'm sorry I couldn't get it here before now," John had replied, feeling Buck's happy, warm gaze on his profile like the sun. "But the only way I could get it brand new was to take it just before I left."

"Oh, this is beautiful," Marge's mother had said. She'd been there when John showed up, helping Marge finish centerpieces. "Honey, I can make you a dress lickety split, but I'll need my sewing machine. Yours is packed up."

Marge had looked at Buck, blushing in excitement. "Do you think you and John can handle the light fixture, Gale?" she'd asked. "I really do want it up before the dinner tomorrow."

"We can figure it out," Buck had said, then leaned down to kiss Marge, touching her cheek lightly as he did so. She'd murmured something in his ear, and he'd beamed at her.

Marge had turned and stood on her toes, pulling John down by his tie to kiss his cheek. "You are truly the best man," she'd said, and John and Buck had laughed while Marge's mother had looked mildly shocked by indulgent.

The moment they'd left, Buck had put the lighting fixture on the table, taken John's face in his hands, and kissed him within an inch of his life. "That's from me," Buck had said.

"You got one from Marge ready to go, too?" John had asked. And that kiss pushed him against the nearest wall as Buck got both hands on his hips. "Well, damn, I think she outdid you," John had gasped when he could breathe again.

Buck had grinned and nuzzled John's neck. "She said to make sure I gave you a little extra to thank you for the silk."

"Shit, Buck. If that's all it takes, I'll raid the shed at base when I get back."

And now here he sits, the night before their wedding, at Buck's left hand. The fixture they'd asked him to choose lighting up the room as he looks around the table and finally to the end, where Marge sits beautiful and smiling in her spot as hostess.

She catches his eye and touches a finger to her chin. A little signal she has to tell him she loves him.

John rubs his thumbnail along his moustache, sending his own signal back.

Under the table, Buck's foot touches John's, and above the table, John lifts his glass to make the first toast to the happy couple.

"I was surprised when anyone caught Buck's eye," Bucky says when everyone's paying attention. "Hell, I had to give him most of my name for him to even talk to me, and we were co-pilots in training."

It gets the laugh Bucky wants. He catches the gleam in Marge's eyes that calls him a danger and a treasure. "But, then I met Marge, and well, it was easy to see how it had happened. She's smart. She's beautiful. She's funny. And she puts up with me."

And this time, it's Buck's eyes that have the look, except he's calling John exasperating and ridiculous.

"I can say I've never seen a happier couple, and I am truly pleased to be able to be here to watch them tie the knot. You are two of my dearest friends, and I couldn't want more for you than each other."

There's a cheer, and a smattering of applause, and John sits down. Marge's maid of honor stands to say a few words, but John doesn't hear them. He's feeling Bucky's hand brush his on the table as he shifts his water glass, and he's seeing the tiny edge of a private smile in the corner on Marge's mouth.

When Marge leaves that night to stay with her maid of honor, Marge makes the excuse she forgot her hat and ducks back into the house. She kisses them both and holds John's face for an extra second.

"You know this wouldn't be right without you here, right?" she asks. "You know we'd marry you tomorrow too, if they'd let us?"

John picks her up by the waist and brings her level so he can kiss her again. He pulls Buck in and kisses him, too. "You let me pick the fixtures. I know where I'm wanted."

Marge and Buck both laugh, and Marge hurries out the door.

Buck and John sleep together alone for the last time, and it's nice, but John misses Marge along his back.

"How lucky are we?" Buck asks.

"We're damn lucky," John replies.

The next day, John opens his best man gift. It's a signet ring, his initials done in a lovely monogram on the face. On the inside of the band, there's a heart, and on either side, "M" and "B."

"B?" he asks Buck even as he blinks back tears.

"That's who I am to you," Buck says. "That's who I want to be to you."

John has to dab his eyes. "You son of a bitch," he says. "I never cry at weddings."

Buck laughs and slips the ring onto his left pinky. "Yeah, Marge says that, too."

#cleganmarge #just a ficlet idea i had #so i figured i'd run with it

[soaps-mohawk]

CRCB Dr. Keller's Office and the Med Center Layout

Since this is going to be rather relevant for the next part of the story, I figured I'd do this now. I drew up a little layout of the med center, and then I created Dr. Keller's office in the Sims to kind of give everyone an idea of what it looks like and where it's located.

The Med Center

It's two storeys, but the main floor is really the most important. It's split between the ER, surgery center, and medical professionals' private offices on the first floor, along with some private exam rooms for special uses (like Dr. Keller and the reader.) Most of the time, when the reader is entering the building, they're going through the secondary entrance. The second floor is the main clinic area for everyone else. I didn't bother drawing it because it's not really relevant to the story. This is mostly just to show where Dr. Keller's office is and sort of what that area of the med center looks like.

Dr. Keller's Office

I built Dr. Keller's office as close as I could get it to what I see in my head in the Sims, just to give everyone a good visual of what it looks like. (Ignore the fact I didn't put any wallpaper on the outside lol)

(Ignore the fact it's winter again lol I need to stop building in saves where it's winter)

It's not a very big office, this is a little more spread out than when I picture it, mostly just for the sake of making everything fit in the build. We'll also just pretend that there's blinds over the windows on the door, I couldn't find a door I liked that fit the vision well enough without windows.

It's very cozy, very warm. There is an overhead light, but Dr. Keller doesn't use it often. The reader tends to sit in the chair furthest from the door, and I always imagine them turned in a little bit, but that's hard to convey in the sims lol.

There is a window behind those blinds, but of course it's kept covered pretty much all the time for confidentiality reasons.

Lots of plants and decorations. Just trying to make the office as cozy and comfortable as it can be. I always imagine Dr. Keller keeping her computer on the side of her desk closest to the wall, but of course, the Sims won't let you do that without some fiddling, so it's in the middle in the build lol. I also picture her a little cluttered with her things since she works super hard for our omega.

Yeah, I hope you enjoy this lovely little visual (I'd live in this office honestly). It's going to be important in the next part, so I figured this was as good a time as any to build it so everyone can kind of get an idea of the vision in my head when I write scenes in Dr. Keller's office.

CRCB Build Masterlist

#crcb #crcb lore #crcb masterlist #crcb build

[monkiementor]

I love your writing, It's so cute, Could I request some Mk x shy female Reader, with the Mk clones? Like Mk is already dealing with the fact he accidently got carry away with making clones again, but now he has to deal with them fawning over his girlfriend in their own way and making her EXTREMELY flustered, basically boi get's jealous, Hope that's not too complicated.

Hmm, I'll still do this ask ! But as a GN reader "" [not everyone is female !] and it wasn't complicated dwww !!

Flustering <3

Mk clones [plus mk] x gn reader [fluff]

It’s a quiet night at his house, Y/N was currently out. MK decides to try one last time on making clones, he doesn’t know what else he can do but he wants to try anyways. He grabs a piece of his hair and blew on it, watching it as it fell to the ground. MK waited a few seconds, and the hair started to form into three of his figures, just like before. Party MK looked around the spotted MK as he smiled, "Ayo, it's the OG MK! Wassup!" MK smiled a bit. "Hello, uh, party..clone?" The clone laughed and nodded. "So, why'd you call us anywayz? Anything special planned for us?" He asked lowing his pink shades.

Painter MK looked around MK's room with disgust, "Your wallpaper is disgusting" Mk pouted, "Hey don't judge my room, I like my paint job." He looked up at his clones. Delivery MK burped, "I'm hungry, got any food?" Painter MK shook his head and sighed, "Not until we can find some." He sat down at MK's desk chair. Party MK smiled wide, "You still gotta tell us why'd you poofed us up?" Party MK said with a grin. Painter MK rolled his eyes. "Why does it have to be something important?" Delivery MK just giggled. MK pouted once more as he crossed his arms and huffed, "I just wanted to hang out with you guys!" He exclaimed in his most childlike tone ever. The Painter MK raised an eyebrow but was interrupted by the sound of a door opening behind them. They turned around to see who was entering the home. It was none other than Y/N, MK's partner.

"Hey MK I brought us some-" Before Y/N could say anything else their eyes caught sight of all 3 MK's in the room. Their jaw dropped slightly and they gasped. "MK, what- who is- but you-" They continued to gawk and Y/N finally found their voice "What the hell." They mumbled. MK chuckled nervously, "Hun! I didn't think you would be home early! Uh, I forgot you haven't met any of my clones yet, so lemme introduce you-" Mk stopped when he heard Party MK whistling at Y/N, "Wow, ya didn't tell us you had a fine ass partner!" He lowered his shades as he winked at them. Y/N blushed and covered their face a bit. "He's right." A voice spoke behind Y/N making them yelp as Painter MK walked around from behind them, "You have nice legs too, maybe I can make a sculpture out of you~" He smirked uncovering Y/N's hands from their blushing face.

They took a step back from him and bumped into someone else. They yelp as they got lifted up into a hug. They looked up, surprised, and saw that it was Delivery MK holding onto them. He hugged them tight and gave them a warm smile. They shyly returned the hug, blushing a bit. "They're very cute too!" Delivery MK chirped, placing them back onto the ground after giving them one last squeeze. MK pouted, crossing his arms again. "A-Alright," Y/N said turning to Party MK, "C-Can you guys explain yourselves, please..?" They asked softly. Party laughed sheepishly. "Welllll..." "I was bored, okay!" MK blurted out as everyone looked at him. "You were gone for sooo longgg, so I wanted company.." He mumbled fiddling with his fingers.

"But now I regret it." He muttered glaring slightly at his clones. Party MK smirked mischievously. "But we thought you were boreddd." He cooed wrapping an arm around Y/N's waist. They squealed, trying to free themselves from his grasp. "Yea MK, I don't think ya should send us back so soon. We just got here." Painter MK pouted a bit. MK huffed, rolling his eyes, "Well, now you guys gotta go!" He snapped. His clones groaned at him. "But we wanna stay here and hang out with Y/N more" Delivery MK frowned. MK frowned feeling jealous, and looked at Y/N who was staring at the ground, face red, looking embarrassed, and then at Party MK. "No." He mumbled looking away from his clones. His three clones stared at him in confusion, not understanding why no one wanted them to stay.

"Come on man! Why won't anyone let us stay?!" Party whined, "we just want to hang out." Delivery added. "Yes, we wanna hang out." Painter mumbled. Party then gave up as he huffed, "fine guess we can goo! Since party pooper over here doesn't want us to stay." Party blew a raspberry at MK. Party smirked thinking of something, "But before we go~ We should give dear ol Y/N a kisss, hmm~" MK flinched at this and glared at party MK. Party ignored him, looking over at Y/N and pressing his lips against theirs. He pulled away quickly, leaving them shocked and a blushing mess, and ran over to his three clones. MK mumbled something angrily under his breath and walked over to them. "We didn't get to kiss them" Delivery pouted. Party looked up at him and grinned, "There's always a next time! Right OG?" "No."

MK does a Kung fu move that poofed them all away. He sighed as he looked at the mess of hair that was on the ground. He turned to look at Y/N who was still in shock at the whole thing. "Uh, sorry about that." He scratched the back of his neck. They blinked and gave a soft smile, "I-It's okay! I'm just in shock." They then looked at MK, he glared slightly at the pile of hair and you giggled. "You were jealous weren't you?" They asked. MK huffed, crossing his arms again, "No, what makes you think that?" Y/N giggled softly at him, "you looked really annoyed by them all flirting with me." They pointed out, smiling gently. "Of course I was! You're my partner, not there's!" He pouted. They giggles and walks up to him, pulling him close, and kissing his cheek. He sighs softly and leans into them. They smiled sweetly and held his hand tightly. "I love you." He whispered quietly. They stopped and kissed his forehead. "I love you too and only you."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sorry, this was messy ! I tried my best [sobs]

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid x reader #lego monkie kid #monkie kid x reader #lmk mk x reader #lmk mk #mk clones #x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #mk x reader #mk monkie kid #flustered

[maryangelex]

The 141 & Their Phones

A/N: I'm pretty sure I saw someone post this or something similar but I have to give my own two cents!

Includes: Ghost, Price, Gaz, Soap.

Warnings: none except not-cannon material.

Ghost:

This guy has a Samsung, there is no way he'd give into buying anything from Apple (he's even got those Reikon earbuds, not Airpods).

His wallpaper would probably be one of the default ones but he'd actually pick one of them, the darkest colored one that's available.

Very few apps too, probably WhatsApp because the lads aren't keen on the green texts from him, and others like a workout tracker and Spotify; all his apps are password-secured too.

Very basic or has little to no social media (maybe he'd have it to keep up with the boys or like his tattoo artist).

He's got a dirt cheap black rubber case or maybe a sleek black one that one of the guys might have gifted him so his phone can have some dignity.

And he's definitely got a privacy screen!! You can't argue with me on this one, he has a privacy screen protector and it's part of his "masked identity" ordeal.

Price:

He's got an iPhone but it'd be an old model like an iPhone 8, maybe even an iPhone 6 (in the bigger sizes so it can fit in his big ol' man hands). He just likes the home button, he understands it better, okay?

He's got an Otter case!! Again, do not fight me on this. He's got one of those trucker dad cases; the bulky Otter ones because he thinks it's optimal protection.

Bonus points if it's those that clip onto his belt, he's an efficient guy!! The most severe dad energy.

He'd actually put a little effort into finding a nice wallpaper, maybe one of his dog or him and the team at a pub. He took it himself and he's very proud because he put a filter on it.

And he asked Gaz to size up his font...

Gaz:

Now this gorgeous boy knows what he's doing when it comes to technology. His iPhone is the newest one and it is absolutely beautiful.

his wallpaper would probably be something scenic, a picture he took himself because he didn't buy the one with the best camera specs for nothing.

He has all of his apps (which there is a lot of but he uses them well and frequently) organized into categories. And he definitely has widgets.

He wouldn't have the customized widgets or a theme or anything, but he has the widgets organized and his phone is just so essential because he's made it super optimal for him.

He'd have workout apps, meal-prepping apps, one to log his runs, a planner, and other organizer apps.

And he'd have a nice case, probably one of those Apple ones, and a screen protector that's unscathed.

Soap:

This is where it gets ugly...The opposite of Gaz. This iPhone is chaos incarnate.

He's got no case, his phone is semi-raw dogging it with just a screen protector (Gaz gets him new ones frequently so that he doesn't walk around with a battered screen)

No widgets because he doesn't understand those. But a ton of apps that are definitely not categorized, they're just all over the homescreen so he has like four pages.

His wallpaper would either be a picture of the Scottish Highlands that he took, or the Neil Ellis selfie. Yes, this man has a selfie as his wallpaper.

And his camera roll is full of memes he screenshot and all sorts of pictures he's taken.

And of course, he uses the most emojis out of the four of them.

#call of duty mwii #cod mw2 #ghost mw2 #ghost riley #simon ghost riley #cod fanfic #headcanon #john price #john price call of duty #price mw2 #captain john price #captain price imagine #ghost riley imagine #cod imagine #soap call of duty #soap cod #john soap mactavish #soap mw2 #kyle gaz garrick #gaz #gaz mw2 #gaz cod #drabble #blurb #task force 141 #tf 141 #cod 141 #mw2 141 #141 x reader #141 imagines

[oh-saints]

I just need more Dad!Ruben,so could you do a Ruben one where he takes your girls to City training or where they are his mascots in some City match

istg rúben is giving us all a baby fever 😭😭 but not complaining since my flight's also delayed so coming right up!

(can you imagine rúben carrying the girls instead of his backpack?)

when you have to go down to your parents' house to take care of your dad and your nanny also catches a terrible cold, rúben doesn't have any other alternative than to bring the girls to work

he made sure to call pep in person for permission bcs the last thing he wants is to cause discomfort to the staffs or them thinking rúben thinks the training centre is a playground

bcs he knows the players love and adore the girls

thank god pep's ok imagine the rough waters he had to go through for weeks benched

he's not scared of the girls causing problem though, rúben and you make sure they're the best girls to have

bcs you don't want another one, for now at least

rúben's teammates are excited to have the girls around bcs they rarely see them especially on match days, for rúben doesn't want the spotlight on them too soon

they coo the girls and succumb to every of the girls' demands, it's so refreshing to see grealish being ponytailed messily by them

the girls prove to provide the boys a good EXTRA training session though

the singles kind of understand now why the fathers work out harder to keep up with the kids' ENDLESS energy

but pep likes the effect so much he wants the girls to be the mascot(s) for the game this weekend

AND CITY NEVER HAS TWO MASCOTS AT THE WEEKEND so ofc you have to be there, you'd asked your brother to take his turn immediately

rúben was fine with him not being the captain on the weekend the girls become the mascot but kevin gave the armband to him the day before

kevin says, "so you can spare me the pep talk i have to do to calm the girls down"

so you BAWL when rúben's holding each of the girls on his sides, so proudly at that too, as they walk down the tunnel with smiles all over their faces

it becomes yours and rúben's wallpaper and you had it framed too

#i'm still having a headache from all this dad!rúben thing BCS I CAN'T--- #sunnytkm23 asks #oh-saints answers #oh-saints writes #oh-saints writes request #oh-saints writes dad!rúben #ruben dias #rúben dias #ruben dias blurb #ruben dias blurbs #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias imagines #ruben dias one shot #ruben dias oneshot #ruben dias fic #ruben dias fics #ruben dias fanfic #ruben dias fanfiction #ruben dias fluff #ruben dias x you #ruben dias x reader #dad!ruben