#percolator punch

[teatimeiniquity]

Spiced Percolator Punch Recipe Use a clean, well-washed coffee percolator to make this hot, spicy holiday fruit punch using pineapple and cranberry juices, brown sugar, cinnamon sticks, and cloves. 1/4 teaspoon salt, 1 cup brown sugar packed, 1 bottle cranberry juice cocktail, 1 bottle unsweetened pineapple juice, 4.5 cups water, 2 tablespoons whole cloves, 4 cinnamon sticks broken

#percolator punch #percolator #christmas tea #coffee percolator #tradition #recipes

[glorious-spoon]

If you’re still doing the prompts, could I ask for 22? in a rush of adrenaline for Buddie?

thank you, and sorry it took so long! :D

-

For one wild instant after Eddie grabs him—bruising, frantic, the world all still too loud and too fast and too suddenly bright as the building comes down behind them, scattering pulverized concrete in their wake—Buck genuinely thinks that he's about to get punched.

Eddie would never. Eddie would never. But he's holding Buck's arm tight enough to hurt, and there's blood on his face and his eyes are wild as he yanks them both across the street in a dozen stumbling steps and shoves Buck against the side of the engine, and there really aren't a lot of other explanations for what the hell is happening right now.

"Hey, listen," Buck says, breathless. His voice comes out croaking and raw; he breathed in smoke back there. They both did. Him more than Eddie, after that last stairwell came down, cutting him off from the entrance for a few disorienting, gut-churning minutes before he stumbled out a side entrance and into Eddie and Bobby's arms. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, okay."

"Shut up," Eddie snaps, loosening his grip on Buck's arm. His eyes are red. His voice is hoarse, too. Buck remembers him screaming his name through the smoke-roiled darkness, an instant before the stairs came down. "Shut up."

"Okay, okay," Buck says, and lets his hands drop. Then lifts them again, thumping his palms against Eddie's shoulders and letting them linger there. Even through his turnouts, Buck can feel him shaking. "Eddie, hey. Come on. I'm okay. Barely even bruised."

"Just—" Eddie bites off the end of the word, shakes his head, then shoves at Buck's shoulders again, moving closer. And then his hands are on Buck's cheeks, dragging him down, and his mouth is hot, and—oh. Oh.

Eddie tastes like smoke; they both do. His cheeks are rough and grimy; there's a sharp sting where Buck must have split or bitten his lower lip. It's not a good kiss, not really, except for how it might actually be the best kiss he's ever had.

It lasts just barely long enough for Buck to start kissing back, and then Eddie is retreating. His hands are still on Buck's cheeks. Buck makes a noise of protest and chases his mouth, and Eddie kisses him again, softer. Then he pulls away again. Buck stares at him, and he stares back, and for a moment the entire world feels very distant.

Then there are footsteps on the pavement behind him and a deep, deep sigh, and reality percolates back in: specifically, the reality that they still are very much at an active scene.

Eddie winces slightly, lets go of Buck, takes a step back, and turns.

"Hey, Cap," he says, scrubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

"Hi," Bobby says patiently. Behind him, the 136 has their ladder up; he can see someone—probably Stover—controlling the hose to put out the last of the burn. Beyond that, Hen and Chim are checking over the last handful of security staff that Bobby and Eddie must have escorted out while Buck was trying not to die in a ceiling collapse. None of it seems especially dire anymore.

Other than the fact that Bobby is here, and definitely saw… all of that.

"Uh, hi, Bobby," Buck says, with what is probably not nearly as winning a smile as he's trying for.

"You know, Buck, I'm pretty sure I have the section in our handbook on maintaining professionalism on scenes still bookmarked from when you were a probie," Bobby says in tones of deep exasperation. His mouth is twitching, though.

"That's on me, Cap," Eddie says solemnly.

"Hey, no, I was definitely—"

Bobby gestures sharply, and Buck shuts up.

"You have two minutes," he says, "and then I expect you both to go get yourselves checked out. And we're going to talk about this back at the station. Understood?"

Eddie straightens his shoulders like he's still in Basic. He used to do that all the time; now it's only when he thinks he might be in serious trouble. "Understood."

"So, uh, so how much trouble are we actually in?" Buck blurts.

"I said we'll discuss it at the station, Buck," Bobby repeats dryly, but he's definitely laughing at them now. "One minute. Then go let Hen check you over, or you really will be in trouble. And kid? I'm very glad you're okay."

He pointedly turns his back and walks away, so Buck doesn't protest that that was more like fifteen seconds than a whole minute. He's got Eddie to focus on instead: his smoke-stained face, soft brown eyes, the sheepish, lovely mouth that Buck was just kissing.

"Sorry," Eddie says, after a moment. "I didn't actually plan to do that."

"Yeah, well. Been a long time coming, right?"

He worries, in the instant after he's said it, that he's got this all wrong. That this—whatever it is—was just adrenaline for Eddie, just relief, just some weird, fleeting impulse and nothing more.

But Eddie laughs, ducking his head, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. When he looks back at Buck, his eyes are bright. He's blushing, visible even under the soot.

"Yeah," he says. "Yeah, it really has."

#911 #buddie #buddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #prompt fic #my fic

[gale-gentlepenguin]

“Take care Marinette.” Adrien said as he kissed his girlfriend before getting into the car

“See you later Adrien.” She said sweetly, her smile as bright as the sun.

They didn’t want to leave the other but Adrien did have fencing practice and she needed to get back and help with some bakery deliveries.

Marinette started to walk to her scooter to head home.

“Aren’t you a bit old to be playing with dolls?”

Marinette stopped when she heard the statement. She looked to see if anyone was around only to see a man in a hoodie sitting on a bench.

“I’m sorry, did you say something?” Marinette asked.

The man turned his head to look in her direction, his face still obscured by the hood.

“Oh, did I say that outloud? My apologies.” The man said with a tone that came off as condescending.

“What did you mean by that?” Marinette interrogated. Something about what he said bothered her and she wanted to be sure she wasn’t misinterpreting it.

The man smiled deviously.

“I think we BOTH know what I meant.”

Marinette knew it, it was a dig at Adrien! Just because he is a model doesn’t make him a toy.

“Just because he was a model in the past doesn’t give you the right to treat him like an object! He is just like everyone else.” Marinette defended.

The man paused, before bursting into laughter.

“Oh I’m sure his creator worked hard to make him appear just like everyone else. Some real attention to detail with that one.”

Marinette felt her anger swell but some other emotion was percolating. The way this man was talking made it sound like…

“What are you implying?.”

The man stopped laughing. Seeing the clear anger at him.

“So you want me to be the one to say it then?”

“I want you to stop mocking my boyfriend.”

The man sighed.

“So does he have a choice in that or do you have his remote?”

Marinette felt her suspicion confirm. This guy knew Adrien was a sentimonster. And his disrespect for him was nothing short of grotesque!

“So you do know. For a moment I started to think you didn’t. A magical creature made of emotion, so close to human yet lacking a soul. Like a magical robot, comes with a kill switch and obedience chip. But no worries if he gets broken a new one can Always be…”

Marinette punched the man with all her strength, the man fell off the bench, but the hood remained.

“Quite a hook, you must have some experience in a scrap.” He said as he touched his jaw. “It hurts hearing the truth.”

“You know nothing. Adrien Does have a soul! He is real! And he has control! You don’t get to act like you know him! You don’t get to talk like he’s lesser than us. He is Human. He is a person. So shut your mouth or I will shut it for you!”

The man could tell she meant her threat.

“Very well, I will be taking my leave for now. But do make sure he has a grip on his Leash. I would be a shame if someone… Got a hold of it.”

Marinette growled and prepared to pop the mysterious man again but a loud horn made her look away, only for her to turn back and the man was gone.

Marinette tightened her fist. She felt disgusted by the man’s insinuation. She would push it away, for that persons sake, she hopes to never see him again.

But as she left, the man in the hood chuckled. Removing the hood and the mask that they were wearing. For it wasn’t a man, but a girl that appeared to be Marinette’s age.

“Just you wait Marinette. When I turn your pet against you.” She said with a villainous smirk.

#miraculous ladybug #ml #ml season 6 #ml ficlet #adrien agreste #marinette dupain cheng #adrinette #ml speculation

[anthurak]

So I’d like to talk about this particularly wild theory that’s been percolating in my brain for the last couple of weeks;

That, among other things, Suletta being noticeably taller than the other girls her age at the academy is actually foreshadowing something.

One of the first things we learned about the background lore of Witch From Mercury is that the GUND Format system that is the basis for Gundams originated as medical technology. More specifically, cybernetic augmentation that would allow humans to better acclimate to the harsh environment of space, as we see with Elnora’s prosthetic arm.

Now, one notable case of the major problems of living in space is simply dealing with differing levels of gravity. You see, living for an extended period of time in zero-gravity or even just a lower-gravity environment can have serious affects on the human body. For one, you’d grow a bit taller as there would be less weight effecting your body, but as your muscles adapted more and more to the lower-gravity, you’d conversely find it all the harder to re-adapt to a HIGHER gravity environment like Earth. And that is especially the case for a person who was BORN in a lower-gravity environment and grew up there. They would be proportionately taller than someone who grew up on earth, but also have much weaker bones and would find it nearly impossible to live on Earth. Anyone who has read/watched The Expanse should be quite familiar with the effects of ‘gravity torture’ on those who are native to a low-gravity environment.

So what does this have to do with Witch from Mercury? Well, I think it should be pretty obvious that the GUND system’s cybernetic augmentation would be an ideal solution to this very problem. A low-gravity native who reinforced or even replaced their skeletal and musculature system with cybernetics could mitigate or even entirely remove their problems with higher-gravity environments.

Now let’s consider the fact that Suletta seems to have spent the first four years of her life in and out of microgravity on a space-station, and then has spent the subsequent thirteen years growing up on Mercury, a planet with a third the gravity of Earth’s. So Suletta being notably taller than a lot of her peers could be an indicator of her having grown up in a lower-gravity environment.

And when we consider how Suletta’s family was closely involved in the development of the GUND system, to the point where her Mom already has a prosthetic arm, and the fact that Suletta doesn’t seem to be bothered by what is probably Earth-like simulated gravity on the academy, I have a serious hunch that Suletta has already received a number of cybernetic implants and augmentations.

For example, we’ve seen that Suletta is very reluctant to actually get into any fights since arriving at the academy. What if part of the reason she’s been so reluctant is because Suletta knows she’s way stronger than she looks and doesn’t want to seriously hurt anyone? Like what if at some point we finally see Suletta snap and actually throw a punch at someone… and she just sends some poor bastard straight-up flying across a room and shatters their leg/arm/skull?

Plus, Suletta being augmented by the same technology that went into the Aerial Gundam would make the two being referred to as ‘sisters’ all the more fitting.

#gundam #gundam witch from mercury #g-witch #g-witch theory #Suletta Mercury #elnora samaya

[nicki0kaye]

basically after my dad's passing, I could not pick up anything I had started prior to losing him. Thankfully, I've had this lil project percolating in the back of my mind for years now. Because this kept me going through a family tragedy, I humbly request if you see this and hate it, please just keep scrolling. I'm going through a lot.

I'll do a full write up sometime, but basically my goal was to get at least one of every type of playable race in 40k onto one ship, living harmoniously and being queer as fuck. From left to right we have; Fighter-caste alien who wants to punch and kiss everyone, pilot-caste alien who is mom and tired, space-elf who is your auntie and does community theatre (murderously), pilot-caste alien first time father who has adopted all the orks, human imperial inquisitor secretly married to space-elf and is therefore your uncle, and in the back, an ex-Space Marine super soldier who has realized She is Girl

We are missing the two space deamons who kidnapped--I mean helped the space marine realize she is Girl, the horde of tiny orks who's imagination literally keeps the ship from imploding, the big ork who loves to cook, the adopted skelerobot who thinks its an ork, the giant murder machine grandpa who is very proud of you and is almost done knitting you a scarf, and the lovingly hand-raised fuckbeast named Baby

🌘  twitter | patreon | instagram  🌒

#40k #wh 40k #warhammer 40k #aeldari #tau #space marine #inquisitor #my art #Pilgrim's Barge

[monstersdownthepath]

A while ago I had a fun little discussion with a follower (@theonethatannoysintthenight) based on an ask I had got at the time which wondered which demigod would win in a Big Battle Tournament. I had initially dismissed the idea because demigods have lists of defensive tools longer than some creature's entire statblocks, so most of them couldn't use their more interesting abilities against one another, thus a big battle between them would just be "who can Full-Attack fastest," but aforementioned follower actually got my brain percolating on what a bunch of them could do against one another.

What we found, over the course of the day, is that Ragathiel can punch above his weight class, even when his weight class is the nebulous area of CR 25+ where creatures can casually ignore set rules of the game without effort or any resource expenditure. His focus on destroying devils means most Archdevils (aside from Baalzebul) either have a hard time hurting him or straight up can't, and he's got a fair swing against more or less every Demon Lord who isn't outright immune to his main damage source.

Good on you, Ragathiel! Almost makes one overlook the fact his most devoted followers are incentivized to be murderhobos.

#Pathfinder

[atonalginger]

WIP Wednesday

It's Wednesday and so a sneak peek is in order and I've got one ready for you. It's from Stowaway Savior this time! Sam and Jinx are out in the Sparta system searching for our missing duo. I have put it under a read more since it's longish

“Buenos dias Capitán Morph, The time is UT zero seven hundred. I have already taken the liberty to heat breakfast for you and coffee is percolating on the stove.”

Jinx’s voice was impressively chipper in spite of its limitations. Sam laid face down in his bed, already fed up with his robotic second. He told Jinx not to bother him and let him sleep. That meant no schedule, no early wake ups, none of it. He groaned and planted his face into his pillow, muffling his tired scream.

A prerecorded soundbite of a pathetic rooster crowing played over the ship speakers, followed by Jinx, “levántate!”

Don’t punch him? How am I not suppose to bop the bucket of bolts when he acts like that! Sam rolled over onto his side and pulled his pillow over his head.

“Your breakfast will get cold, Captain Morph,” Jinx called over the speakers, his metallic voice sing-songing his sentence as best as the modulators could manage.

“I don’t want it!” Sam yelled from under his pillow.

“Breakfast was believed to be the most important meal of the day on old Earth,” Jinx stated, “it is important to fuel a hard working body.”

“I don’t need it!” Sam shouted, ripping the pillow off his face, “fuck off and power down.”

“I cannot complete either order, as I lack the necessary parts for the first while the second goes against my original orders.” Jinx said.

Sam knew if the robot had the ability it would be smiling. He could hear the shit-eating grin in each word. He forced himself to sit up and manged to find it in him to be civil, “How long was I able to sleep, Jinx?”

“Five hours, forty-three minutes, twenty-nine seconds,” Jinx said.

“I told you to let me sleep,” Sam reminded the robot, “five hours isn’t enough, why are you waking me?”

“Five hours, forty-three minutes…Captain Morph we have a situation. Ships inbound, UC signatures, I am boosting shields and spinning up the turrets.”

“How many? Give me more than that!” Sam shouted as he shot out of bed.

“tres pendejos de tiburón,” Jinx’s heavy feet stomped back to his battle station, “I am blocking their attempts to scan.”

You taught him to swear too? Sam thought at Delgado, great! It’s like your whiny little bitch ass is right here with me. “What kind of scans?”

“Probing cargo and heat sensors. If I had to guess, captain, I’d say they are attempting to get a headcount.”

Sam was storming toward the cockpit, his battered bunny eared slippers ‘twapping’ with each step as he slammed into his seat and went over the systems, batting his robe belt out of the way as he got strapped in. Jinx had everything green and the three small fighters were circling the Bitter Angel II like there was chum in the Blackest waters.

“Open comms, Jinx,” Sam barked.

“Comms open,” Jinx chimed back, “Halt hijos de putas!”

Sam blinked, not sure whether to laugh or cry at his chaotic robotic copilot.

“Aw look Lieutenant, the xeno freak’s daddy is so worried he has a shitty robot speaking for him,” one of the pilots taunted, “wonder if mommy is that ship seen orbiting Charydis I the other day…”

“That's a lot of talking coming from a corpse,” Sam growled as he targeted the culprit’s reactor, “suppose I should commend the brass ones weighing down your ships, thinking those three rinky dinky a-class fighters could take me down but then, SysDef has never been known for their brains.”

“Where do you think you’re going?” Jinx called out as both turrets opened fire on the edge ships, one per ship, targeting their grav drives first, then engines.

Sam grinned and opened fire with both pairs of gauss guns and helion beams, ripping the shield off the center ship and popping their reactor like a balloon. He watched through the fighter’s cockpit glass as the crew scrambled to suit up like they were somehow making it out of their toasted ship. He located their docking module, one of the bulging ugly nova galactic models, and shredded it with his gauss guns, depressurizing their ship in a snap.

“Anyone else got anything funny to say before you die?” Sam shouted over the comms.

Jinx had destroyed the grav drives and crippled both ships by popping their fuel tanks.

“Only that you’re too late!” one voice yelled.

Another, from the other ship, chimed in, “Vega will drag their corpses from that wreck!”

“Jinx, you take left, I take right,” Sam ordered.

“Aye, Aye, Captain!”

Jinx focused fire on his target while Sam tapped the thrusters and cracked his target in half.

With the three ships in pieces Jinx got to work downloading their black boxes and scooping useful scrap and cargo from their husks while Sam got up and shuffled back to the living quarters to eat. As much as he wanted to go back to bed he knew he couldn’t rest with sharks in the waters. Just great.

Running into SysDef was expected but still not welcome. And their taunts hit too close to the heart. Sam was pretty sure they were bluffing but what if they weren’t? He knew the Squid had been damaged bad enough to lose an engine and a landing gear. Enough days had passed for them to have made it to Sparta if they did scatter like her message seemed to imply. Could they have wrecked out here?

“Captain, los pendejos del tiburón have located two wrecks on Sparta III and are currently picking through the wrecks. One is to the north in the frozen dunes and the other is tucked away in the mountains to the south west.”

Fuck. “Start in the dunes, take us down while I eat and get dressed. Don’t land too close I don’t need those pricks trying to cut their way inside.”

“Affirmative, Captain Morph.”

#starfield #starfield fanfiction #coemancer #the coemancer crew #sam coe #wip wednesday #atonalginger writes #Stowaway Savior #starborn!Sam

[nsewell]

happy wip wthursday everyone xox. thank you sm for tagging me @hylfystt @serenpedac and @sealriously-sealrious!! i can't share what i'm currently working on for secret santa reasons so this is just a little something that's been percolating in my docs for a while about ava and nat living in a haunted house together that i'll probably never get around to finishing

i'll tag @dekarios, @kirnet, and @absolutebearings 🫶

It begins like this: something unseen watching from the darkness. A door opening on an unoccupied floor. A whispered conversation in a pitch black room. The distorted scratching of nails over the wallpaper. A heavy tome absent from the coffee table that will only remanifest after an extended period of truancy, and then slam to the floor of the kitchen while Ava prepares their morning reserve of blood. It’d taken hours to scrub the dark red stain from the tiles.  Annoyances, buzzing like flies over a deer carcass. This corpse of a house. It unnerves Ava, a nebulous threat that she cannot punch or push or punish in some way. Nat is, of course, endlessly fascinated. There’s something very appealing about the placid curiosity and parted mouth expression she casts over the scene of the fallen book and the fallen blood, and Ava bent supine on the floor, rag in hand and gnashing her teeth. They are still tenants, after all. She wants to take the splash of red on her thumb and smear it over Nat’s bottom lip, wine dark. Even amidst it all, they are cornered animals doing a careful circling around one another, tempered in their polite exchanges and guarded avoidance of certain topics. They have not been alone in this way for quite some time, and all Ava has is visions of before, pale periwinkle nights in temporary lodgings, the contrasting press of their hip bones slotting together, chestnut tresses curling over her breast in the early break of dawn. Only once every few years, and they don’t mention it again; the afterimage of what they've shared and set aside pounding at the threshold of Ava’s mind. When the pulse beat of memory becomes too tumultuous, Ava will look away or close a door or stand suddenly and Nat will stare at her for a long time like she knows what she’s thinking, a question on the tip of her tongue (oh, to be on the tip of her tongue). 

#my writing #yay hooray they're haunting each other

[seventhstar]

percolating some wild identity porn akira/ryuji thoughts tonight. persona 5 (royal?) spoilers below the cut

ok so aged-up identity porn where akira and ryuji are part of separate and rival phantom thief groups--i'm thinking that maybe akira and ryuji never met on their first day at shujin and therefore awakened to their personas separately?

akira and futaba are one group, the remaining thieves (minus akechi) are in the other

however akira and ryuji are dating irl. however neither of them know that the other is a phantom thief

this is good for two reasons

one, bc i think it would be really funny if ryuji, like, irrationally hated joker who he had never met and only seen from afar, for the good reason of "joker might be the mental shutdown guy" and the less good reason of "joker is hot and i don't like it"

yes i do think at one point one of his teammates is like "hey doesn't joker look kinda like akira" to fuck with ryuji and yes ryuji does lose his mind. they're nothing alike! akira is nice!

meanwhile akira is prowling mementos with a knife, a gun, and 0 chill

and then he and joker actually meet, and ryuji hates him even more bc joker is even hotter!!! irl. meanwhile akira clocks skull=ryuji immediately and has to decide whether to be a good boyfriend and confess all or be a terrible boyfriend and hit on skull until he notices

alternatively, you know how the nijima palace ends with the gang enacting a complex plot to fake akira's death? okay that but since akira's operating without an entire team, it goes a lot worse.

so ryuji experiences the one two gut punch of 1. getting a call that his boyfriend is dead 2. discovering the weird government entity that informed him of this refuses to release his body or provide any information 3. waking up in the dead of night to find a very alive akira stumbling into the apartment beat to shit 4. experiencing both intense relief and intense rage at the same time as a still-drugged and bleeding akira confesses all

#persona 5 #pegoryu

[dustedmagazine]

The Serfs — Half Eaten by Dogs (Trouble in Mind)

The Serfs, from Cincinnati, put punk rock in a hypnotic trance, but as a lark, not a religion. On the surface, “Club Deuce” is all strobe-flashing hedonism, its thumping beat grounding an airy techno lattice of synths.  The softness of Andie Luman’s singing washes over rifle-shot cadences of rave.  It envelopes and embraces like a wash of endorphins.  It jitters on weightlessly, leaving no footprints. 

But elsewhere, the rhythms get rougher, harder, more insistent.  A post-punk anomie drawls through “The Diceman Will Become.” Distant voices hover like heat mirages on a highway.  But, even so, the drums punch hard and the guitars squall.  There’s blood and guts here, cushioned by layers and layers of dreamy batting. 

It is, perhaps, no coincidence that the album’s opening track bangs the loudest and most undilutely.  “Order Imposing Sentence” bangs the keyboards like its 1980 in Dunedin, howling through a vortex about “offshore oil deals” while the lo-fi pop percolates.  But use that as a north star and you’ll be lost before long.  “Cheap Chrome” pulses belligerently like mid-aughts Oneida, “Suspension Bridge Collapse” bristles with laser guns and sci-fi anxiety, “Ending of the Stream” rattles dopplering drones with explosive drum fills, letting long notes hang until they change shape.   

It’s hard to get a handle on these narcotic but varied cuts.  You imagine a mystic calling out prompts to a sleepwalking ensemble, who do their best to execute his commands, and wake up blinking with no memory of any of it.   Weirdly engaging and never what you expect. 

Jennifer Kelly

#the serfs #half eaten by dogs #trouble in mind #jennifer kelly #albumreview #dusted magazine #cincinnati #punk #garage #lo-fi #synth punk #Bandcamp

[yenforfairytales]

Terry Silver's sincere apology and more rambling

THIS. This right here. Every single time

Every time Thomas says that Terry's apology to Daniel was sincere it makes me a little more feral about these characters.

And I believe in the video that before he was cut off he was saying that "things started to percolate." As in - the rejection continued to permeate Terry's thoughts and actions, boil over, spread as he wallowed and stewed over it...

Just the thought of Terry going home, alone in bed that night, growing angrier and more upset as he plays back their interaction in his mind, and the hurt and rejection just continues to fester in his chest until he has to get up and hit a punching bag until he feels better. Until he feels nothing at all.

It's also canon that he drinks when he's upset... But he hadn't quite spiraled out of control at that point. Anyway

If I were a braver person I would love to ask Thomas what he thinks Terry would've wanted to happen had Daniel accepted the apology. How exactly does Terry view a friendship between them?

I find it FASCINATING

Because

No matter what, Terry canonically wants Daniel around. Everyone else is simple for him to discard; he even got rid of Kreese so he never had to see him again(not that he was happy to see him to begin with). But with Daniel he still purposefully kept him around, even if it was just so Daniel could watch him take over the world with Cobra Kai.

Which makes it canon that Daniel's rejection was Terry's motivation to really go all in on Cobra Kai, his fuel to spread the message, and to keep Daniel nearby - he wanted to prove to Daniel that he could run Cobra Kai

That he, Terry, could make it work this time. All by himself. He could be better than his father. Better than Kreese. He was going to prove to Daniel that Cobra Kai really could help kids around the world and that Daniel was wrong about him. That all fits with Terry teaching Kenny in a way that he probably wished he taught Daniel.

It's a shame that Terry lost control yet again and things of course escalated to an insane amount. Keep in mind that Terry was desperate. He's dying and running out of time.

I just love Terry and Daniel and their dynamic so much. I can only hope we get more of them next season.

And obviously my little shipper heart wishes they'd make up somehow and be friends like Terry wants. Like Daniel's other rivals. Honestly, Daniel's ability to turn these tough warriors into his Ride or Dies is something to admire. The soft way these old men look at him. 😭

And it haunts me what could have been. The fic potential. What if Daniel had said yes. Just imagine. You know Terry had it all laid out in his head, rehearsed his apology over the years...

I just need a soft happy ending ok. Even if it's just Terry saying goodbye to Daniel one last time in the garden, a bittersweet parallel to their first meeting.

#there's no point to this #thomas just fuels the obsession #truly amazing that Daniel is the only person to get a genuine Terry Silver apology #a genuine I'm Sorry from a man who is never sorry #where do we go from here #if anyone would like to add to this please feel free #cobra kai #silverusso #daniel larusso #terry silver #thomas ian griffith #ck meta #my post

[thebattleofstarcourt]

｡ﾟ•♡୧ percolator

eddie munson x gn!reader

warnings: 16+ smokin weed, mentions / talking about sex (no actual sex)

a/n: i attempted to unlock every bit of stoner knowledge i had from my high school days, but the weed fucked with my memory so don’t mind the weird writing. i am not dumb my brain is just the fried egg from the DARE commercial!!!! also my parents (born:1972) claim that everyone called weed pot back then so im rolling with that. u call it dated i call it historical accuracy.

you knocked on your boyfriend’s front door, giddily bouncing from foot to foot. the plastic bag held in your opposite hand brushed against your thigh as you were waiting for him to answer the door.

seconds later, you were met with the face of your mulleted boyfriend. cheeks flushed and eyes a shade redder than the usual look of acute sleep deprivation. he was probably high.

“eddie!” you exclaimed, waltzing into his uncle’s trailer before he could greet you. “i got a surprise for you, but you’ve seemed to beat me to the punch.”

his brow quirked as he leaned in to give you a peck on your cheek. “surprise for me?” he repeated.

“yep.” you affirmed. “but you’re already high so…”

“you got pot?” he asked. “why? from who? you could’ve called me, baby, i have some saved for you.”

“i didn’t get pot, eds.” you said, pulling out the contraption from the plastic bag. “i got a bong!”

he took the glass structure from you and started examining it “oh shit.” he said, dragging his fingers along the neck. “it’s nice. how much was it?”

“nothin’ i couldn’t afford.” you said, grinning as he eyed the tacky paint job around the chamber. “pretty, right?”

he laughed. “it’s beautiful. thank you, babe.” he kissed your cheek again.

in reality, it was not ‘nice’ nor ‘beautiful’ like you both pretended it was. it was a cheap $20 bong from a shady gas station a couple miles out of town, one that didn’t card as long as you diminished your pride and flirted with the 35-year-old cashier for a few minutes.

nonetheless, he planted another chaste kiss on your lips and walked down the hallway to his bedroom, you following close behind.

“wanna try this baby out?” he asked, grabbing a small tin from his nightstand. you gave him an enthusiastic nod before he started packing the bowl and grabbing his lighter.

while he was preparing the bong, you went over and started sorting through his large stack of cassette tapes, eventually settling on an old album from the doors and putting it in the stereo. it was one of the few bands you could both compromise on at the beginning of your relationship, so it quickly became both of your guilty pleasures.

“you sure you wanna smoke again?” you asked, sitting down on his bed next to him.

“yeah, my high’s wearing off anyways.” he said. “i was trying out some new stuff rick got, but it was shit.” he ellaborated, moving his hands and clinking his rings on the glass. “made me feel like i was tripping. not in a good way, though.”

“you’re not giving me that shit, right?”

“no.” he said. “i’ll probably sell it to the basketball team and watch them freak out during their after parties.”

you let out a loud laugh. “you’re fucked up.”

he met your eyes and smirked while lighting up the bowl, taking a small hit before passing it back to you. 

-

sometime during next the hour you’d washed off your makeup and stripped yourself of your pants, leaving you in an old ISU t-shirt and your underwear, spread across your boyfriend’s bed. similarly, eddie was sporting a nothing but boxers and a KISS shirt that he had stolen from his old neighbor’s clothesline couple years back.

you were both also decently high. not high enough to garner you immobile, but high enough to lower your inhibitions significantly – but that just came out in shared fits of giggles.

“chrissy cunningham? like head-cheerleader-dating-captain-of-the-basketball-team chrissy cunningham?”

“yep.”

“i don’t believe you.” you said. “there is no way that that is possible.”

“‘m not lying.” he said through a laugh. “i was supposed to meet her after school but she bailed last minute.”

you rolled your eyes. “oh, how convenient, ‘she bailed last minute.’” you mocked, earning you a pillow to the face.

“i swear on my fuckin’ life.” he said, putting his hand over his heart.

“that’s just not real.” you said. “she’s like, a go-to-church-every-sunday girl. like the virgin mary level of holy.” 

“well, she’s dating jason carver.” he said. “so she’s probably not a virgin.”

“ew.” you pretend to gag. “i don’t wanna think about jason fucking carver getting laid. That’s like the grossest most undeserved thing ever.”

“maybe that’s why she needs drugs,” he said, making you both laugh boisterously.

“honestly, yeah.” you agreed. “he’s probably the type to make her give him head and then refuse to kiss her until she downs a bottle of mouthwash.”

he laughed in agreement. “he definitely comes after, like, three strokes.”

another fit of laughter erupted from the both of you again….

you flipped over on your side to face him as you started to speak. “eds, can i ask you a question?”

“‘f course, baby.” he said, turning his body to meet your gaze. “what’s up?” he began playing with the strands of your hair that fell in your face.

“do you wish that we fucked more?”

“huh?” he asked.

“like,” you said, flipping back over on your back, trying to avoid making eye contact. “are you mad that i don’t want to have sex that much.”

“no.” he said. “i’d never get mad over shit like that. where’s this comin’ from?”

“i don't know.” you said, honestly. “i just feel bad sometimes because we only fuck when i’m in the mood, but like, when you’re in the mood and i’m not we don’t and i just feel like a shitty girlfriend-”

“you’re not shitty, babe, c’mon.” he said. “you don’t have to take care of me every time i get a hard-on.” his hands moved around to cup your cheeks. “you’re fuckin’ awesome, baby. i’d be celibate for a million years if it meant i got to have you.”

maybe it was because you were high, but you couldn’t help but tear up at his sentiment. he quickly wiped the tears away from your eyelids.

“but,” you said. “when we make out, and then we don’t do anything afterward, don’t you get ‘blue balls’ or whatever.”

“baby,” he said. “i could get blue balls just from lookin’ at you for long enough.” he smiled, making you giggle softly as you melted into his hands. “you don’t have to worry about me ever, okay? i can take care of myself just fine. i got a dozen pictures of you to keep me company if i ever need you to help.”

you started blushing and buried your face in your hands, remembering the small stack of polaroids he has of you post-coital. “don’t tell me you actually jack off to those.”

“of course i do.” he said. “i love thinking about you, in every way.”

“gross.” you said, playfully hitting his chest. “but i love thinking about you too.”

“oh, i know.” he said. “every single time you call me up at 2 am because you can’t sleep and you need me to-”

“shut up!” you interrupted, shoving your hands over his mouth to stop his crude mockings of your late-night, admittedly, desperate phone calls.

he responded to your assault by kissing your palms, eventually getting you to release your grip on his mouth. he continued littering your hands and arms with soft kisses until you lay back down and sink into his mattress. 

“i love it when you wanna share yourself with me.” he said. “but i also love it when you don’t, ‘cause i love you.”

“i love you.” you said, pulling him over you and planting a sweet kiss on his lips. 

“wanna make out and watch mad max?” he asked, pulling away from you slightly.

“fuck yeah,” you said, grinning and you both jumped up and made your way into the living room.

#thank u sza for ctrl deluxe #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things 4 #wc:1.2k

[ilgaksu]

HeiHua headcanons or snippets - who asks for physical affection by using their words and who does things that are not word-use to get the physical affection they need but won’t admit to from the other?

I have been percolating over this one. I love this question. Because, listen, I think the obvious fact is Xiao Hua never uses his words to get affection, ever. He hovers or straight up sits next to/on/etc Hei Xiazi to get it, but he would literally rather die than ask to be touched outside of sex.

HOWEVER, while I am of the opinion that, yeah, sure, Hei Xiazi is far better at using words in comparison. This, however, doesn't mean he's good at it, or even likes doing it that much, and I suspect if he was with anyone else who was better at using their words, he would suddenly become terrible. In my version of him, he is a man born in 1890 - who came of age and then predominantly dated during an era where gender roles gave him a performance to fulfill, and that took away some of the embarrassment - but is still very much a 20th century boy. He's got the equivalent of when you have anxiety but your friend has it worse so you can ask for ketchup for them at the restaurant. There's a reason, imo, he's just Going For It and waiting to be told no in their dynamic, and that's even before I position myself as a proponent of Heihua flirting along the lines of Baby, It's Cold Outside as a thing anyway.

(Honestly, this is once again a tale of a man who ended up with a beloved and highly neurotic trophy show-cat for a partner, and is just rolling with the punches.)

#asks #tinbramble #they are both Deeply Dysfunctional and just happen to be so in a way that works for the other one i swear #xiao hua is just so repressed he makes hei xiazi look entirely sans inhibitions of any kind in comparison #and i think it's very easy to then write hei xiazi as that comparative perception #as opposed to someone who is trying very hard to APPEAR like that

[hellofromthehallowoods]

Mx. Wellman, I have been patiently and anxiously awaiting your finale drop today, and I’ve gotta tell you, I haven’t been this excited about any kind of content drop in AGES. Thank you for making HftH, and also a heavy Fuck You in advance of the gut punch I know this episode is about to give me ❤️

I am excited too; mostly because I now get some creative time to percolate the next season of the Hallowoods, finish One Hundred Eyes In The Dark's next draft, and with any luck get the first draft of the second book on the table.

#hfth asks

[chouhatsumimi]

Vocab from Karneval, vol. 4

強襲 きょうしゅう assault, violent attack

激闘 げきとう fierce fighting

突如 とつじょ suddenly, all of a sudden / de repente

豹変, ひょう変 ひょうへん sudden change, complete change

著しい いちじるしい striking, remarkable, considerable / sobresaliente, notable

人懐っこい, 人なつっこい, 人懐こい, 人なつこい ひとなつっこい, ひとなつこい friendly, affable, amiable, sociable, loving company, (animals) taking kindly to men

検挙 けんきょ arrest, roundup

攻防 こうぼう offense and defense, offence and defence

迫力 はくりょく impressiveness, impact, force, intensity, appeal, strength, punch, edge, vigor / fuerza, impacto

日夜 にちや day and night, around the clock, always, constantly / día y noche, siempre

譜 ふ (sheet) music, (musical) note, (musical) score, genealogy, family tree, record of a game of go, shogi, chess, etc.

へし折る, 圧し折る へしおる to smash, to break

惨い, 酷い むごい, ムゴい cruel, merciless, pitiless, brutal, atrocious, inhuman, tragic, horrible, terrible, dreadful, miserable, ugly, horrifying / cruel, desalmado, inclemente, despiadado, inhumano, atroz

打開 ��かい break in the deadlock / irrumpir, romper

一手 いって one move (in go, shogi, etc.), only way, only means, doing alone, doing single-handed, monopoly / movimiento (en juego), método, sin ayuda, monopolio

玩具, 翫具 おもちゃ, がんぐ, オモチャ toy, plaything / juguete

充満 じゅうまん being filled with, being full of, permeation

肯定 こうてい affirmation, affirmative (logic) / afirmar, asentir, afirmación

落っこる おっこる to fall down, to drop

落っことす おっことす to drop, to lose, to let fall

落っこちる おっこちる to fall down, to drop

心置きなく, 心おきなく, 心置き無く こころおきなく freely, frankly, without reserve

脈絡 みゃくらく logical connection, chain of reasoning, coherence, context, blood vessel / conexión, coherencia

引け目を感じる ひけめをかんじる to feel inferior, to feel small / sentirse inferior, sentirse pequeño

泥濘む ぬかるむ to be muddy, to be slushy

濾過, ろ過 ろか filtration, filtering, percolation / colar, pasar por el colador, filtrar, colada, colado, filtrado

造山運動 ぞうざんうんどう mountain-making movements, mountain building, orogenesis / orogenia

浸食, 浸蝕 しんしょく erosion, corrosion / erosión, corrosión

でもって indicates means of action, cause of effect, by

掛け合わす かけあわす to multiply, to crossbreed, to cross-breed, to cross, to cross-fertilize, to hybridize

深手を負う ふかでをおう to sustain a serious wound

言い分, 言分 いいぶん one's say, one's point, complaint, grievance, objection, excuse / declaración, opinión, pretensión, queja, objeción, reclamación, excusa, pretexto

スタジャン college jacket, baseball jacket

新陳代謝 しんちんたいしゃ renewal, replacement, regeneration, rejuvenation, metabolism / metabolismo, capacidad para deshacerse de lo inútil y quedarse con lo útil, renovación, eliminación de lo viejo y adopción de lo nuevo

空洞 くうどう cave, hollow, cavity, hollow

見透かす みすかす to see through, to see the true nature of something

運気 うんき fate, fortune / destino, suerte

よぼよぼ doddering, tottering, unsteady, shaky, decrepit, infirm, frail, feeble

くすむ to be dark, to be dull, to be unassuming, to be inconspicuous, to not stand out

栽培 さいばい cultivation / cultivo, cultivar

上っ面 うわっつら surface, appearances

どっしり, ドッシリ bulky and heavy, massive, solid, weighty, substantial, dignified, imposing, composed / con aplomo

独白 どくはく monologue, soliloquy, talking to oneself

#Karneval #Japanese in manga #vocab #a bunch of these words are from the opening summary #and some from the ending bios #mugoi always reminds me of Satou from Ajin

[irl-magicalgirl]

after a few weeks of procrastinating I started catching up on Neverafter again yesterday — and episode 9 just punched me in the gut in the first 20 minutes.

(this ended up being longer than intended so slapping a readmore here as to not clog folks' dashboards)

Pinocchio has always been one of my favorite characters since I i was little, and I never agreed with the way his story is so often interpreted as "he was a bad child and all lying is bad, so he deserves the punishments he gets". I just always felt it was such an oversimplified and dishonest story in that way.

So when Lou was explaining Pinocchio's inner thoughts, about how he wants to know why everything is so hard, why it had to be this hard, why nothing ever works out. Why other children get to lie and steal and cheat and still get to live good lives, but when he does it he gets hung, or burned, or his father is hurt or killed. Why when he fails he suffers the ultimate consequences that other children don't — it really hit me because that's exactly how I've always thought about Pinnochio.

and after about 40 minutes of letting that percolate and replay in my mind, I started to vividly remember being around 12 or 13, and working up the courage to ask my mother why she yells at me and punishes me the way she does, and asking to please not scream at me. I remember even saying that I knew none of my friends' parents treated them that way. And I was met with anger and more yelling, and being told I was lying and ungrateful and that every parent treats their child like this. And this was the first time I learned that trying to have any dialogue with my mother would only lead to more yelling and threats and pain, and that my best option was to shut up and never fight back. And I had to become exceptional at telling small and big lies all of the time, to protect myself and my siblings, and to keep my thoughts and feelings to myself.

I'm nearly 27 now, and just thinking about that confrontation still makes me cry and feel helpless, even though I am out of that house and independent. And I got to have such an extreme moment of self realization and understanding last night thanks to Lou Wilson (and Guillermo del Toro) providing such beautiful interpretations of Pinnochio as a character.

#personal #tagging as personal but i don't mind if people reblog or reply — i feel like there's probably a lot of people who can relate #neverafter #d20 neverafter #dimension 20 #lou wilson #Pinnochio