#I would go on but need I? it's all on the tin

[grinchdelia]

this post is kinda funny to me cause while I'm certainly no survival expert or anything. I have built and cooked on fires. None of them followed a neat layout like this. Not sure if the game is just different for the expert fire builders but none of this is particularly helpful for people who are just out camping once in a while or unexpectedly thrown into a survival situation.

It's much easier to get a fire started with a loose little teepee of tiny twigs, don't start setting up with anything bigger than the width of a finger. Most of that pile should be the tiniest twigs you can find. It's going to look like a messy pile, not neat like above. Hopefully you have a bit of paper or torn up cardboard as tinder in the center but you can also scrounge up dry lichen or something, most dry loose fluffy plant material will do. Wood shavings work but take a lot of time to prepare.

The really critical thing to remember about fires is the airflow which is mentioned but I don't think a lot of readers will appreciate how difficult the "star" or "platform" would be to get going and keep lit. If you are inexperienced enough to take internet fire advice, you want to make it as easy as possible on yourself. There's a sweet spot where your pile is more air than wood, but not so loose that the flame has no fuel to spread.

So you have your little twig pile, ideally with some paper in the middle. Light from as close to the bottom as you can, it's always a little fiddly but if you have small enough twigs and they're not too dense it should hopefully "catch" pretty quickly. Hold off until it's really blazing then add more wood, starting with finger width, and working your way up.

The shape and structure of the fire is something you build up, not the starting configuration of logs. Some of the above like the log cabin especially, you'd be able to light pre-built. But that makes it harder than it needs to be. You end up making a lot of lean-to or log cabin shapes anyway when you're adding wood, but if you need to conserve fuel or keep the fire smaller you can add larger pieces or roll them off so they're touching the ground and getting less air. Keep in mind that raging flames = less smoke and vice versa. Once a log is charcoal all through it won't smoke any more though.

Cooking isn't that difficult, it just takes a while to build up a nice supply of embers. You can shape your cooking bed after your fire has been going for an hour or more. I haven't had issues with uneven cooking but thats usually cause I'm keeping an eye on it and turning regularly if it's too close to the main fire.

if you're just out camping and have a bunch of tin foil, you don't need to wait so long. Just do a couple layers of wrap with some moisture inside depending on what you're cooking, and you can throw the foil lumps right in the flames. I wouldn't recommend messing around with stones but if you don't have a grill or foil and you're cooking something that can't be roasted on a stick, I guess hot stones are your other option.

Oh and the Swedish torch on here is interesting but it's not easy to find logs like that. Plus outside of life and death situations it's better to leave stuff like that alone, that's animal habitat! Best to burn wood thats old and dry but not too far rotted. The concept reminds me of a "rocket stove" kit I had that is basically just a meal cylinder for efficiently burning twigs for cooking. It was a very useful item and worth carrying around when backpacking.

[reverie-starlight]

skincare with keigo bc I'm never not soft for him and want to take care of him forever. happy birthday !!!!!!!!

gn!reader, no physical descriptions, lots and lots and lots of fluff. he is my baby. also I don't have a real skincare routine, so I'm apologizing in advance for how lackluster it may seem. this is in the pre-moving in together stage of your relationship, but not too early on either, if it matters to you!

keigo watches you curiously through the doorway that leads to the master bathroom as he sits on your bed cross-legged. he doesn't want to disrupt whatever it is you're doing (you seem very focused), but he's extremely interested in what you're putting on your face.

he thinks you look stunning with the fluffy animal headband on and some shorts paired with one of his old shirts. he thinks he could look at you like this forever, actually.

he watches you smile slightly and lean over the counter to get closer to the mirror. "I can feel you staring at me, you know."

his heart flutters and he tries to ignore how hot his face feels.

you stand up straight again and turn your face towards him, beckoning him over with a wave of your hand. as if he's been waiting for you to do just that, he gets up and saunters into the bathroom.

"so... what exactly is all this?" he asks, settling behind you with his arms around your waist, inspecting the different bottles and containers.

"they're skincare products. see?" you hold up one of the tubes for him to read, going back to spreading the cream over your skin.

"hydrating... morning and night use... huh."

you pick up on the curiosity in his voice and look at him through the mirror. “do you want to try my skincare routine for yourself, keigo?”

he hesitates and you give him a moment to decide, though you have a feeling you know what he’s going to say. eventually keigo does nod and you peck him on the cheek. “I’ll get you a headband, just a second.”

moments later you're sitting on the counter, shoving a white headband with panda ears over his head. he stares at himself in the mirror, watching you adjust it so his hair is pushed back from his forehead.

"you're so cute," you murmur, smiling at him and resisting the urge to press kisses all over his face. "okay, brush your teeth before we start. I've heard doing it after messes things up."

"really?" he sound skeptical.

you shrug. "I dunno if there's any merit to it but I've seen enough people mention it, so I just do it this way now."

he nods and reaches behind you to grab the red toothbrush you keep for him whenever he sleeps over. you sneak a kiss against the corner of his mouth when he's close enough and it makes him grin.

once he's done brushing his teeth, he steps away to spit into the sink and wipe his mouth before returning between your legs. "alright, what's first?"

you grab a tall tube and present it to him the same way he's seen people online do it in those viral review videos. "face wash. it helps get all the dirt and grime out, and it's good for sensitive skin."

you wet your hands in the sink and raise them to his face to dampen it. "this one suggests using it on slightly wet skin for better results."

he lets you pat him until you're satisfied, and he watches as you put some of the gel on your hands. "close your eyes."

you don't need to tell him twice.

keigo happily lets you massage the product into his face and you giggle a bit when he leans into it. "does it feel nice?"

he nods a bit. "so nice."

"alright, it's foamy now, you can wash it off."

he blinks, returning to reality, and does what you say. once all the face wash is gone, you tap a towel against him, careful not to rub. "okay, would you say your skin feels dry, oily or a combination of both most of the time?"

he thinks about how his skin can get a bit itchy and wind burnt from all the flying he does while on patrol. "very dry."

you nod and grab the tin he was looking at earlier. "this helps with that."

you scoop a bit onto your index finger and smooth it over his cheeks, forehead and temples. "there," you smile softly and cup his face in your palms. "now you'll be even softer, which I honestly didn't think was possible, but here we are." he's certain his pupils are heart-shaped at this point. your entire aura is tinted pink and red and there's cartoon hearts bubbling up around you. he wonders if you have a secret second quirk he doesn't know about or if the mind really is as powerful as they say.

he doesn't know how exactly to filter the intense emotions running through him as you continue to dote on him, so they just well up inside of him until he can't stop the quick and sap-filled "I love you so much," from bubbling out of his mouth.

you pause a little at how... thankful he sounds. you know that he isn't used to being pampered- not that he's ever explicitly stated that, you just kind of put two and two together based on his career and what he's told you of his past- but you hadn't realized how much it would affect him.

so you smile at him and tilt his face down to kiss his head, careful not to get any product on your lips. you return the sentiment, happy to be of service to him for once, and ignore the way your insides are turning to goop at his expression.

you'll have to dote on him more often. not only because you want to see him like this more often, but because you want- no, need to make up for all those years he must have felt discarded and used and overworked... he handles it well. he's accepted his duty and thrives in his field. you know he does, otherwise he would have snapped long before he met you, but... it hurts to realize that something as simple as skincare is enough to toss him into unknown territory.

once you're done with the moisturizer, you slip the panda headband off of him and blink away the tears threatening to fall. he's still wearing that appreciative expression, heart eyes and all, so you pull him close and wrap your arms around his shoulders.

"I love you more than you will ever know, keigo," you mumble into his neck. "don't ever doubt that, okay?"

his arms find their way around your waist and you feel him nod against your head. you reveal your face to him and press your forehead against his, gently nudging noses.

comfortable silence lingers for a bit before he whispers "you smell good."

you snort and pull back. "it's the moisturizer, it's pear scented. do you want to head to bed now? the counter is cold."

he nods again and picks you up, encouraging you to wrap your legs around him despite the fact that the distance from the washroom to your bed is only less than twenty steps.

as soon as you're both under the covers and he expels one of his feathers to turn the light off, you beckon him over to lay on your chest.

you tangle your fingers in his hair, gently massaging his scalp and tailing down to scratch the nape of his neck. he lets out a content sigh and he presses soft, sleepy kisses to any bare skin he can find without moving too much. you almost laugh at how quickly you're able to get him relaxed.

you know you'll miss his weight on your body by time you wake up- he'll be long gone for an early morning patrol. even so, at least you'll be comforted with the knowledge that he was able to get a good night's sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I love him :(

[just-an-enby-lemon]

I know Wicked is not going to make Dorothy a young kid like in the books but I really like when dark versions of childrem literature do keep them as kids.

Not in "it's more fucked up" light but in this is also a metaphor for kids growing up in a weird scary world while most adults never actually explain anything and either expect them to already know or to be forever oblivious. And so the kids have to figure it out. To make themselfs the decision to remain kind, to learn to love the new world or at least the people in it.

And I do think being a kid is part of the reason Dorothy reacts to Oz so diferently than the Wizard. Yes, it is also because she is a good person. But Dorothy is a kid she is used to things that make no sense. So she goes to an insane new world and her first instinct is to learn. She is quicky to accept that animals talk and scracrows walk and tin man have life. Because she is open minded yes, but also because kids know they don't know everything in a way most adults don't.

But Dorothy also killed (she didn't but you get it) someone and was praised for it. And she is scared and she wants to go home. And everyone keeps teeling her she did the right thing and that all she needs to do to go home is meet this amazing all powerfull guy and kill the horrible mean witch. And every fairy tale has evil witches. So maybe it's okay. And she takes it. Because she is a child and she is new and they are adults.

But she is kind. She befriends all this traumatized adults with backstories and connections she does not know (just like real kids don't know the past of the adults they trust) and she just wants to help them. And she notices that the Tin Man already has a heart and the Scarecrow has a brain (Fiyero was likely lying from the start but Dorothy does not know that) and that the Lion does have courage. And she decides it also means she has to do the right thing so (and I'm going Wicked books here) when she meets Elphie all she wants is to apologize. She knows what is like to lose family and also she knows the witch protects the animals and Toto is her best friend, so anyone that protects animals cannot be that evil specially when the animals here are really just people but different shaped. She doesn't know if she will ever be forgiven but she wants Elphaba to know it was an accident, to know she is sorry, to know someone else is mourning her sister, to know that it is scary and unfair. To give her the shoes back if she can finally just take them off.

She is brave and when she discovers the Wizard is a farse she shows it to everyone. And it's not planned in any way because she is a kid. She doesn't have the maturity, the trauma nor the context Galinda has. Hell she must have noticed Glinda loves the witch and it might be the one reason she does not call Glinda out as well, not any strategy just thinking love can fix all cause she's a young kid.

[I also just think baby Dorothy would make everything funnier. And of course I have the personal fix it that Glinda and Elphie make amends post cannon as them (and Fiyero) find about Tip and raise Ozma as the polycule they should've always been (and also try to fix Oz from very different angles). Only as the Oz books go Dorothy and Toto come back (with Uncle Henry and Aunt Em this time) and she and Ozma fall in love (homoerotic best friends and co-princess wich is the same). And I think Ozma going to present Dorothy to her low key parents only to learn Dorothy has very diferent forms of history with them is golden.]

P.S: This was edited so I will add that in the original I made the point that I consider the three girls that best follow this lost child in a world of horror and wonder having to figure it out by themselfs with a but of an allegory for growing up and the expectations unfairy placed upon them as queer and neurodivergent even if unintented so (it's also accidentaly about gender in my head). The girls being of course Dorothy, Alice and Wendy.

P.S2: I know in the books they just die and in the musical they run for our world but it's my fix it and let's be honest Oz is in shambles and a very traumatized Glinda will not fix it all by herself and she deserves some support.

[deoidesign]

What’s your favorite animal?

goblin shark

[cerbreus]

baking never feels more like science to me than when i'm trying to cobble together an intricate multi step recipe together from several different recipes and tutorials online because the recipe I'm imagining doesn't exist....

[astonmartinii]

day six: not so home for christmas | oscar piastri social media au

pairing: oscar piastri x fem reader

oscar and y/n are having their first christmas in monaco because of a snow storm, unfortunately this also means they're now hosting most of the grid as well.

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 137,094 others

tagged: oscarpiastri

yourusername: thanks a lot snow storm :( i guess it's our first ever christmas here in monaco

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user1: yall global warming might just be real

user2: you're only just realising it now ?

charles_leclerc: you kids and your complaining - a white christmas in monaco, what more could you want?

yourusername: a christmas at home with our families?

charles_leclerc: families? when you're in your adopted father-in-law's home city, i'd watch your tone if i were you

oscarpiastri: if you think of your kids as often as you say then you should be worried that your aussie son is going to FREEZE to death :(

charles_leclerc: if it's the bbq you crave, you can still do that?

yourusername: it's snowing? and he is NOT bringing our bbq inside

charles_leclerc: okay jeez, not much christmas spirit here i see

oscarpiastri: we miss our families, sue us

user3: wait... if they couldn't get out of nice... who else couldn't

user4: the storm kicked in like a day ago right?

user5: based on instagram activity, my guess is that max, lando, ollie (idk why he was in monaco anyway), kimi (i think he's attached to ollie), alex (and lily) and george

user6: i know it would never happen but wouldn't it be so cute if we got a grid christmas dinner

yourusername: please don't give them any ideas

oscarpiastri: i only just got rid of them 😩

landonorris: so, just out of interest, is y/n still free to maybe wrap my presents for me?

yourusername: do i look like the christmas fairy to you?

landonorris: well i know for a fact that oscar's ass was not wrapping those presents

oscarpiastri: well y/n actually likes doing things for me soooooo

landonorris: PLEASE Y/N I'LL HAVE TO RESORT TO USING TIN FOIL

yourusername: tin foil... please you are a 25 year old man

landonorris: does it look like i'm a man who has sellotape in his house?

yourusername: no.

user7: y/n is like a full time mum to a load of men all older than her

user8: she better get ready to cook for them at christmas because none of these men can cook for themselves

oscarpiastri

liked by charles_leclerc, maxverstappen1 and 692,108 others

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oscarpiastri: i'm not sure how this went from our lonely christmas away from both of our families to babysitting half of the grid but what the hell, sure

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user10: i personally blame all of you for this

user11: and what??? i'm so excited

user12: i hope they post nothing more just to spite your ass

charles_leclerc: i’m kinda offended no one thought of coming to mine :/

maxverstappen1: you’re shit at cooking

charles_leclerc: how would you know?

maxverstappen1: i saw it in your vlog

charles_leclerc: you watch my vlogs???

maxverstappen1: NO?

yourusername: okay queens stop flirting and get back to your stations in the kitchen

charles_leclerc: can we flirt there?

yourusername: if you're still peeling - knock yourselves out

user13: y/n basically confirming lestappen? wow christmas DID come early this year

user14: the real question is why she would let those menaces in the kitchen?

yourusername: i have seen how much these people eat, i need help even from the useless

yourusername: also if they want certain dishes from home they have to help

maxverstappen1: i am CORING AS MANY APPLES AS I CAN I PROMISE THE APPLE BEIGNETS WILL BE WORTH IT

oscarpiastri: i know they will be, y/n is making them

maxverstappen1: okay buddy, i don't see you helping

oscarpiastri: i am keeping everyone else in line, that's a full time job as well

user15: who made the youngest couple in charge of these fools?

user16: a comedic genius

yourusername: they're annoying but i'll deal with them for you

oscarpiastri: you make such sacrifices for me, i love you

yourusername: i love you more

alexalbon: we're really not that bad you guys are being dramatic

yourusername: george walked up to our mantle piece, pointed at my baby picture and said "ugly. my condolences" ?

alexalbon: that's george ? he's mean to everyone

yourusername: HE'S IN THAT BABY'S HOUSE

olliebearman

liked by charles_leclerc, estebanocon and 418,934 others

tagged: yourusername, oscarpiastri & kimiantonelli

olliebearman: first christmas with my big brother :))))

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user17: yall be on oscar about him holding onto the leclerc family joke but the real enemy is ollie

olliebearman: i think it's cute

olliebearman: and it's NOT a joke

user18: you know what? yeah i'd also keep going with the joke i need to get in that leclerc family

olliebearman: the real catch here is y/n she's going to teach me to crochet :)

yourusername: we can make little bear mans !!!

user19: the grid dad stuff was cringey... but grid brother well that's hitting like crack i fear

charles_leclerc: grid dads are cringey ??? count your days

user19: sorry?

charles_leclerc: i (and my family) will NOT tolerate sebastian vettel slander. not now not EVER

fernandoalo_oficial: and me?

charles_leclerc: i couldn't give a fuck about you old man

fernandoalo_oficial: excuse me

fernandoalo_oficial: i'll have you know i am just as much oscar's father as you are

charles_leclerc: and how have you come to that OBVIOUSLY WRONG conclusion

fernandoalo_oficial: WELL i don't know maybe his REAL grid dad is actually mark webber who i have a well documented homoerotic relationship with and therefore oscar and most importantly Y/N are my children

charles_leclerc: what a load of bullshit

charles_leclerc: if grid children were based on homoerotic tension then i'd be father to all of the red bull juniors and max would have custody of the FDA

maxverstappen1: well....

pepemarti: hi !!!

dinobeganovic: hey.....

yourusername: what happened to the original plot of the movie

user20: i think the cabin fever is getting to them

lilymunhe: no they're like this all of the time it's exhausting

yourusername: tell me about it

olliebearman: but not me :(

yourusername: no we love you

oscarpiastri: you are the least annoying one

olliebearman: omg thank you :3

yourusername

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tagged: oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc & landonorris

yourusername: not so home for christmas but with family nonetheless

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user22: what was the dress code here?

landonorris: what we had left? all the dry cleaners are closed because of the storm

yourusername: you take ALL of your clothes to the dry cleaners?

landonorris: why wouldn't i do that...

yourusername: yk what, whatever !

user23: omg of course leo was there as well

yourusername: we only invited charles for him

charles_leclerc: excuse me?

landonorris: he was invited ????

oscarpiastri: well he was staying in monaco anyway and you guys all invoked your squatters rights in my house so what was one more

landonorris: i am not squatting? my ass is already big enough as it is

yourusername: i know your ass is big because YOU'RE ALWAYS SAT ON IT

oscarpiastri: god i love you

yourusername: i love you even more

oscarpiastri: nuh uh not possible

yourusername: i love you so much i'm not even that angry about half of the grid crashing our christmas

oscarpiastri: i love you so much that i personally barged a child out of the way to get you your eras tour merch

yourusername: i do love my merch.... but not as much as i love you

oscarpiastri: you're so romantic

georgerussell63: right that's it, i am SICK of you people pretending you are not enjoying our presence

yourusername: did i or did i not say family ???

oscarpiastri: george i'd appreciate if you didn't talk to y/n this way

maxverstappen1: yeah back the fuck off

georgerussell63: why is max here?

maxverstappen1: ummmm y/n busted her ass to make apple beignets for me so i had some netherlands with me at christmas so i would die for her. i am somwhat fond of oscar as well

maxverstappen1: so fuck with them, you fuck with me

maxverstappen1: and you seem to like doing that recently

yourusername: awwww thanks max!

oscarpiastri: we are fond of you too buddy

georgerussell63: how did i lose this?

user24: max out here getting wags on his side

maxverstappen1: that's my ma

maxverstappen1: wait that makes my homoerotic tension with charles incest

maxverstappen1: that's my home girl

oscarpiastri

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oscarpiastri: y/n absolutely smashed our makeshift grid christmas and she said she'll accept thanks in qualifying tows or easy passes on track 👍

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user25: oh they want me dead

user26: i would do questionable things to get a slice of that cake

user27: drop the recipe please xxx

yourusername: oh babe i be following the tiktoks like the rest of yall - i'll repost it

user28: woman of the people

yourusername: babe i don't really remember saying those exact words...

oscarpiastri: PLEASE ! they don't say no to you now you've filled their stomachs

landonorris: he's not wrong

maxverstappen1: you're in my will now

charles_leclerc: you're now my favourite daughter in law

yourusername: i'm your only daughter in law?

charles_leclerc: idk kimi and ollie are pretty attached with their weird tension

landonorris: like father like son

charles_leclerc: huh?

landonorris: huh?

oscarpiastri: ^^ see !!!! y/n please !!!

yourusername: fine.

yourusername: thank you all for coming, i hope you enjoyed dinner and your time with us. i loved spending time with you all but if you wish, i will be accepting thanks in the form of qualifying tows and easy passes for oscar or pornstar martinis from any hospitality

yourusername: happy?

oscarpiastri: yes

oscarpiastri: YOU HEARD THE WOMAN GUYS

maxverstappen1: oh i love y/n but i'd rather put you in the wall than let that ugly orange car past without a fight

georgerussell63: @fia i told yall

yourusername: are you ever gonna give that up ?

georgerussell63: no? and i KNOW IT WAS YOU WHO SAT ME NEXT TO HIM AT DINNER

yourusername: you'll never prove it :P

user29: oscar is such a sassy man

yourusername: he gets it from his momma

oscarpiastri: and you :)

yourusername: i will say your ability to watch my reality tv with you is a big factor in how much i love you

landonorris: is that why oscar once woke me up the night before a race by shouting "get her ass lisa" ???

oscarpiastri: we watch real housewives together on facetime :)

charles_leclerc

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charles_leclerc: i made the right choice in son and most importantly daughter in law

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user31: okay the cinnamon buns have thrown me over the edge now

user32: i NEED to know who asked for them

alexalbon: guilty 💅 and they slapped thanks y/m

oscarpiastri: we've been dating for years? like when i was still in f3?

charles_leclerc: semantics

oscarpiastri: no i met and charmed y/n all on my own thank you very much

charles_leclerc: because she saw the future and the potential of our prosperous family !!!

oscarpiastri: at this point, whatever you wanna hear old man

charles_leclerc: relegated below ollie

olliebearman: score !!!

user33: oh these people are never letting this joke die are they

user34: i think we're stuck with it

charles_leclerc: are you people sick of whimsy ???

charles_leclerc: i am ALLOWED to flex my son's amazing choice in women, especially a woman who will make me a swiss roll on demand

yourusername: he does have amazing taste

oscarpiastri: thank you :3

yourusername: as much as you guys were somewhat annoying, we had an amazing christmas xx

oscarpiastri: please do not bother us until march

charles_leclerc: fine. but we're still on for the double date in melbourne?

charles_leclerc: (maybe triple? idk ollie can just bring kimi)

kimiantonelli: score !!!

yourusername: we would love to !

oscarpiastri: i guess you could meet my actual family ?

charles_leclerc: not now oscar, let me enjoy chritmas with you all before you remind me of that

oscarpiastri: okay?

user35: y/n and oscar actually have the patience of saints because if these clowns crashed my christmas i'd be on the news

yourusername: any christmas is perfect with him

oscarpiastri: with y/n, i can get through even the most annoying people

user35: okay yall didn't have to flex on me that hard damn

fin.

note: here's day six! i'm not sure if you guys saw my update post but this series won't be done by christmas day but will stretch to NYE because unfortunately my cat has to be put down :( i've had him for nearly 19 years and it's really hard to think about him being gone so i'm just spending as much time as possible with him atm. anyway, i hope you enjoyed !! xx

[toksidermy]

hey so i'm sober now, and i have emotions again! they are as follows:

depressed and crying for a whole day

super happy and energetic for two days

depressed for four days!!!!! also crying some more

maybe a happy day

the nice doctor lady who did my assessment for therapy asked me if i thought i might have bipolar, and i told her i don't know! i feel like i don't know enough about it to say. so i went on wikipedia and guess what i think I have now.

self-diagnosis is a fool's game though so that's why i'm waiting for this therapist. they will tell me, hopefully, what is the matter and then help me fix it. what i'm doing in the meantime is asking myself "is there anything i can do about what is bothering me right now" and if the answer is yes i do the thing that will help and if the answer is no i try my best to let it be. sometimes letting it be means eating a whole pint of ice cream and you know what, that's okay.

[slushycoookie]

I Like Your Dress ~ Logan Howlett x Fem! Reader

✩ Word Count: 2.7k

✩ Content: Logan goes crazy over your dress, Domino shows up (I miss her so bad), cream pie is mentioned A LOT, Wade breaks the 4th wall, P in V, Logan does NOT wrap it up this time, MINORS DNI!!

✩ A/N: Reader is the same reader as the one shot I wrote. You don't have to read that one, I don't go into much detail but if you guys want to read that one, read it here

Masterlist | Commissions

The fresh smell of food made Logan awake from his slumber.

Sleepily searching for you on your side of the bed, only to discover that you weren't there. Having a sudden burst of energy, Logan got out of bed to find you. He didn’t need to go far when sees you wiggling your hips at the stove, stirring a pot.

“Hey.”

You look behind you when hearing his voice, “Hi!”

Logan pulls you close as you greet him with good morning kisses. Well, afternoon after checking the time.

“How did you sleep? I let you sleep in a little bit, you were so tired from that mission last night.”

Logan smiles, “I slept alright.”

He sees the multitude of ingredients on the counter and remembers what they're were for. Wade was throwing a potluck since Domino was coming back from a month long mission. Of course, he invited you two and you were so excited. Logan was neutral. He would've preferred to stay in bed with you all day.

You said you were making a few things, but the amount of ingredients you had made him wonder. “How many people are you planning to feed?”

“Enough.” You said, going back to your pot, which he found out was pasta. “Colossus and Peter will be there. We both know how much they like to eat.”

“Don’t push yourself.” His tone was rough but you knew it was his way of caring.

“I won't.”

Logan grabbed himself an afternoon shot of bourbon before excusing himself to get ready. Trying to prepare himself for socializing and dealing with Wade.

When he came back clean and not as rugged, you were finishing up, putting white icing on the strawberry cake. Logan swiped his finger on the cake and licked it, cream cheese on his tongue.

“That’s good.”

“Don’t lick it anymore.” You lightly threaten, smacking his hand away. “Save it for the party.”

“Fine.” Logan kisses your cheek and stands behind you to watch you finish icing the cake. In your beautiful handwriting ‘Welcome back, Domino’ in pink icing. “Would ya look at that? You should be on those baking shows.”

“Nuh uh, I'm okay with just watching videos.”

Once you were finished, he helped you place the cake in the dome, ready to go with the rest of the food. You gave him an order to not eat any of it before you ran into the bathroom to get ready. Logan gave you about five minutes before inspecting the tins. He smiled when he saw you only made a few items, a large tray of pasta salad and spinach dip. Just to make sure it wasn't poisoned, he took a swipe of each, humming at how good it tasted.

He knew you were going to be a while so he opened a window, grabbed a cigar and lounged to smoke. Logan knew you didn't like it when he smoked in the apartment, but said it was okay as long as he let in some fresh air after.

As usual, you took almost a hour getting ready, but it was well worth the wait.

When you stepped out of the room, Logan started coughing, blowing smoke out the window to make sure a lot didn't linger. His eyes trailed your outfit, a tie dye colored maxi dress with thin straps, and cute, brown sandals to match. Logan didn't care when you scolded him for obviously taking a bite of your pasta salad. His breath was stolen away.

“I like your dress.”

“You're changing the subject, but thanks.”

He steps in front of you, eyes lowered as he kept gazing at your form. The dress hugging your body while still being appropriate. Logan's hand rests on your ass cheek, giving it a firm squeeze.

“I really like your dress.”

You avoid his lustful gaze, “Don’t you start.”

“Start what?” He steals a kiss from you, careful not to mess up your lipstick. “I can't compliment my lady?”

“You can compliment me by using your words.”

“It's not as fun that way.” He dips his head between your neck to smell you. You weren't wearing any perfume this time, but the honey scent from your lotion was enough to complete the entire package. Logan growls, squeezing your ass some more and making you giggle.

“We should go, I don't wanna be late.”

“We won't. I swear.” His hand cups the nape of your neck, putting it back so he could kiss you some more. Parting your lips to dive his tongue right in. Your moans spurring him on.

It didn't last long though.

“Logan.” You gently push him away, “We will have some time later.”

He sucked his teeth before grabbing all of the food you made.

Logan remained a scowling mess when you two arrived for the potluck.

You were the more social one out of the relationship, so you immediately flocked to the crowd who welcomed you with open arms. Even Domino, despite that this was the first time you two saw each other. Logan makes his usual rounds of saying hi before picking a corner with a drink in his hand and observing.

It was his way of enjoying himself without being easily annoyed and overwhelmed by the sheer number of people in the apartment. Best of all, he could watch you socialize. Your face lighting up at the conversations while that gorgeous dress clung to your body. Logan always likes to admire you in your element, but you wearing that dress was more than enough to make him want to do things to you. His hands involuntary flexed at the idea of feeling your body through the dress.

“There’s my grumpy kitty!” Domino says to Logan, who scowled at her, but there was no malice behind it.

“Hey, Dom.”

“Wade told me that your hair was getting better and now I see why.” She motions to you talking to Peter about him getting highlights. Logan's lips curl upwards again at the sight of you. “She's cute.”

“Thanks. I heard she scheduled you an appointment?”

Domino nods, “Gonna try something new. This is getting stale.” She motions to her afro.

“Don’t you dare change it.” Wade joins in, pointing at her. “You know how I feel about change.”

“Aww.” Domino pinches his cheek, “We all gotta grow up sometime.”

“You know who you're talking to right?” Logan comments under his drink.

“Your afro was one of the reasons you were so likeable in the second movie. Now what do we have, a woman with luck powers? I still don't believe that's a thing, by the way.”

Domino shakes her head at the audacity of it all, “I missed you too.”

She excuses herself, leaving Logan and Wade together. The latter started getting a little giddy, cradling his cup, while shooting multiple glances. Logan promised you that he was going to play nice during the party and not get easily annoyed at Wade.

“What?”

“We’re having cream pie.” Wade mentions, “Do you wanna know what flavor it is?”

Logan holds back an eyeroll, “Sure.”

“It's boston cream pie. I know we have a lot of sweet things considering we also have the cake your lady made, but I really wanted some. Actually, it's been a while since you've had cream pie, right?”

“I guess.”

“Oh you'll enjoy this one. You have a bit of a sweet tooth.” There was a moment of silence between them as they watched everyone enjoy themselves. You were getting many compliments on your food, asking for the recipes to make at home. “ Vanessa and I are huge fans of cream pie. Does your lovely lady like it too?”

Logan glared at him for a second before thinking about the question, “I think so.”

“Has she had it in a while?”

“No.”

“I think she'll be very happy when she gets some-”

“Why…in the fuck do you keep talking about the damn cream pie?” He feels a slight headache coming on.

Wade shrugs before taking a sip of his drink. “I can't like pie?”

Logan growls, ready to toss him out the apartment when you inadvertently save Wade, walking over with a huge smile on your face.

“Hi.”

“Hey, sugar.”

You embrace him with arms around his neck. Your lips kissing his cheek, taking in the aftershave.

“Hi Wade.”

“Hi. Your grumpy boyfriend and I were just talking about cream pie. Do you know we're having pie later?”

Logan felt his eye twitch at the question, his hand on your hip to keep himself from punching Wade.

“No, I didn’t!” Your eyes light up, “What kind of pie?”

“Boston cream. One of the best pies in the world, I should say.”

“Ooh, you know what, I haven’t had cream pie in a long time.”

“Oh really?” Wade tilts his head a little, while you nod. “Well, obviously you gotta have some. I think you'll enjoy it. The author knows what I'm talking about.”

And just like that, he's gone.

Logan didn't want to acknowledge whatever that was so he pulls you amongst his body. The most handy you'll ever allow him to be in public.

“We should go.” He whispers in your ear.

“Hm? We've only been here for two hours.”

That was enough, he wanted to say. Everytime he focuses on you and that dress, he wants to forget behaving and take you back home to lavish on you all night. For those two hours, Logan was trying to keep his thoughts pure enough to get a raging hard on. He didn't know how long he could last.

“Just hang in there a bit longer, okay?” You give him a kiss for encouragement. Logan takes in the imprint of your lips as you go back to socialize. No, he wasn't going to make it.

He hangs on when everyone sits around the table, laughing and talking. You're beside him, hand on his thigh to stabilize him and keep him in the conversation. Logan wants you to go higher, feel the impending hard on.

He needs to get you alone, show you that he was failing at behaving. There weren't a lot of places where you two wouldn't be disturbed. And he didn't want to take you outside and fuck you in an alleyway.

But God answered him.

You excused yourself, making your way to the bathroom. Logan watches you go as everyone continues talking. He gives it a minute before getting up and pretending to grab another drink. Instead, he beelines to the bathroom, standing beside the door and waits. His heartbeat in his chest.

“Who wants some cream pie?” Wade asks, everyone roaring with excitement once you finally open the door.

Logan pushes you back into the bathroom, lips immediately on yours. Your surprised gasp eggs him on while he traps your body against the wall.

“This is all your fault.” He mutters, constantly stealing kisses.

“Huh? What?” You try to keep up with him as his hands are all over your body, feeling your soft curves through the dress.

“You know what. Wearing this dress, not letting me do something to you before we came here. Torturing me.”

As he spoke, his lips were everywhere. Your face and neck. Trying to wear you down and submit.

“Torturing you? That, that wasn't my intention-oh.” His teeth latched on to your shoulder, having some self control to mark you in a place no one could see.

“I need you.” Logan starts bunching up your dress.

You try to stop him by pushing his hands down, “L-Logan? Logan, baby you didn't lock the door.”

“It's gonna be quick.” You let him bunch up your dress, seeing a glimpse of your panties, which he now sees that it's the lacey blue ones he liked. The ones you mentioned reminded you of the accent colors of his suit.

Logan's jeans were getting tight when he removed them, stuffing them in his pocket. Without saying a word, you jumped, wrapping your legs around his waist. You whimpered under his lips as he was finally able to touch you while wearing the dress. Large hands molding your breasts through the fabric, still managing to locate the nipple and pinching it. His hips rolling against you, creating a nice friction against your cunt.

You were doing so good at keeping quiet for him, only managing the occasional whimper when he hit a perfect spot. Making sure you were stable on his arm, Logan reaches down to your core. His chest rumbles when he feels how wet you're getting. Sinking one digit inside while his thumb presses on your clit. Making circular motions while he was getting you ready.

“Didn’t need to do much, huh?” He said, watching you twist and turn. “You wanted this as much as I did.”

You didn't say anything but he smelled you. His finger coated in your delectable arousal. If you two weren't on a time limit, he'd reach down to get a taste.

Once you were ready, Logan maneuvers to unzip his pants. Even though you were dazed out of your mind, you remember something.

“I left my purse out there.” Your purse had condoms and knowing Logan, he didn't bring them as you insisted on being prepared in case something like this happens. But now both of you were unprepared.

“I'll get ya plan b at the store.” He continues to unzip his jeans.

“Don’t forget…”

Logan pulls his cock out with one motion, using some of your wetness for lubrication. “I won't.”

He then slips into you. You clutch on to him for dear life, your nails digging into his shirt. Curse his healing factor. He wanted to see the marks you'd leave on him.

He keeps you stable against the wall, sinking into you completely before starting to move. Quick and sharp thrusts in and out of you. Low, wet sounds filling his ears besides your shaky sobs.

“O-Oh god…”

Logan rolls his eyes back at your desperate tone, “God's not here, honey.”

His own voice comes out strained as he's fucking you. How he wants to pull your dress up further to see your breasts move. But having you like this was much hotter. Wanting you to remember that this was the dress that made him go crazy.

“Mmh Lo’…” He almost comes right there when your hand grips the nape of his neck, pulling the hairs.

Logan grunts, picking up speed, feeling some of his cum leaking out into you. His tip pressing against your cervix that was making you croon. Goosebumps forming on your skin as he hit that spot repeatedly. Making you whine and wince under him.

“Squeeze around me, sweetheart.” He commands and you do so. Your walls molding around his cock as you silently cried out. Even at the height of your pleasure, you still managed to be quiet, mouth agape and he wanted to shut those lips with his own. “Good girl. Good fucking girl.”

Logan wasn't far behind, pounding into you mercilessly before shooting his cum inside you. He stilled for a moment then pumped into you a few times to make sure all of his load made it inside. You capture him in another kiss, both of you sighing against each other.

Laughter nearby caused you two to come down from the high. Logan put you down, handing you your panties. He grabbed a few paper towels to make sure no cum stained his jeans. You were checking yourself out in the mirror, making sure Logan didn't mess up your makeup. He did ended up getting some on his face, which had you quickly trying to wipe it away with your thumb.

“I'm good, I'm good.” Logan reassures you before fixing his shirt. “I'll go out first.”

“Okay.” Before parting, he gave you another kiss, completely not caring if lipstick stained his lips.

The party continued as if the two of you weren't missing for the last fifteen minutes. Logan played it cool by grabbing another drink. When you came out the bathroom, you two momentarily locked eyes, before acting like nothing happened.

“Did you enjoy the cream pie?”

Logan jumps at Wade's sudden appearance, “What the fuck? How did you know that I-?”

“The pie's right there.” Wade points to the cut up pie on the kitchen counter. Logan stares at it, a bit dumbfounded. “It's good right?”

Logan's eyes land on you as you're speaking to Domino once more, “Yeah. It was good.”

Tags: @allmyn1ghts

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Android x Reader (I)

It is the future and you have been tasked to solve a mysterious murder that could jeopardize political ties. Your assigned partner is the newest android model meant to assimilate human customs. You must keep his identity a secret and teach him the ways of earthlings, although his curiosity seems to be reaching inappropriate extents.

Yes, this is based on Asimov’s “Caves of Steel” because Daneel Olivaw was my first ever robot crush. I also wanted a protagonist that embraces technology. :)

Content: female reader, AI yandere, 50's futurism

[Part 2] | [More original works]

You follow after the little assistant robot, a rudimentary machine invested with basic dialogue and spatial navigation. It had caused quite the ruckus when first introduced. One intern - well liked despite being somewhat clumsy at his job - was sadly let go as a result. Not even the Police is safe from the threat of AI, is what they chanted outside the premises.

"The Commissioner has summoned you, (Y/N)." 

That's how it greeted you earlier, clacking its appendage against the open door in an attempt to simulate a knock. 

"Do you know why my presence is needed?" You inquire and wait for the miniature AI to scan the audio message. 

"I am not allowed to mention anything right now." It finally responds after agonizing seconds.

 It's an alright performance. You might've been more impressed by it, had you not witnessed first hand the Spacer technology that could put any modern invention here on Earth to shame. Sadly the people down here are very much against artificial intelligence. There have been multiple protests recently, like the one in front of your building, condemning the latest government suggestion regarding automation. People fear for their jobs and safety and you don't necessarily blame them for having self preservation. On the other hand, you've always been a supporter of progress. As a child you devoured any science fiction book you could get your hands on, and now, as a high ranked police detective you still manage to sneak away and scan over articles and news involving the race for a most efficient computer.

You close the door behind you and the Commissioner puts his fat cigarette out, twisting the remains into the ashtray with monotonous movements as if searching for the right words.

 "There's been a murder." Is all he settles on saying, throwing a heavy folder in your direction. A hologram or tablet might've been easier to catch, but the man, like many of his coworkers, shares a deep nostalgia for the old days. 

 You flip through the pages and eventually furrow your eyebrows. 

"This would be a disaster if it made it to the news." You mumble and look up at the older man. "Shouldn't this go to someone more experienced?" 

He twiddles with his grey mustache and glances out the fake window. 

"It's a sensitive case. The Spacers are sending their own agent to collaborate with us. What stands out to you?" 

You narrow your eyes and focus on the personnel sheet. What's there to cause such controversy? Right before giving up, departing from the page, you finally notice it: next to the Spacer officer's name, printed clearly in black ink, is a little "R." which is a commonly used abbreviation to indicate something is a robot. The chief must've noticed your startled reaction and continues, satisfied: 

"You understand, yes? They're sending an android. Supposedly it replicates a human perfectly in terms of appearance, but it does not possess enough observational data. Their request is that whoever partners up with him will also house him and let him follow along for the entirety of the mission. You're the only one here openly supporting those tin boxes. I can't possibly ask one of your higher ups, men with wives and children, to...you know...bring that thing in their house."

You're still not sure whether to be offended by the fact that your comfort seems to be of less priority compared to other officers. Regardless of the semantics, you're presently standing at the border between Earth and the Spacer colony, awaiting your case partner. A man emerges from behind a security gate. He's tall, with handsome features and an elegant walk. He approaches you and you reach for a handshake. 

"Is the android with you?" You ask, a little confused. 

"Is this your first time seeing a Spacer model?" He responds, relaxed. "I am the agent in your care. There is no one else." 

You take a moment to process the information, similar to the primitive machine back at your office. Could it be? You've always known that Spacer technology is years ahead, but this surpasses your wildest dreams. There is not a single detail hinting at his mechanical fundament. The movement is fluid, the speech is natural, the design is impenetrable. He lifts the warm hand he'd used for the handshake and gently presses a finger against your chin in an upwards motion. You find yourself involuntarily blushing. 

"Your mouth was open. I assumed you'd want it discreetly corrected." He states, factually, with a faint smile on his lips. Is he amused? Is such a feeling even possible? You try your best to regain some composure, adjusting the collar of your shirt and clearing your throat. 

"Thank you and please excuse my rudeness. I was not expecting such a flawless replica. Our assistants are...easily recognizable as AI."

"So I've been told." His smile widens and he checks his watch. You follow his gesture, still mesmerized, trying to find a single indicator that the man standing before you is indeed a machine, a synthetic product.

Nothing.

"Shall we?" He eyes the exit path and you quickly lead him outside and towards public transport. 

He patiently waits for your fingerprint scan to be complete. You almost turn around and apologize for the old, lagging device. As a senior detective, you have the privilege of living in the more spacious, secured quarters of the city. And, since you don't have a family, the apartment intended for multiple people looks more like a luxury adobe. Still, compared to the advanced way of the Spacers, this must feel like poverty to the android.

At last, the scanner beeps and the door unlocks. 

"Heh...It's a finicky model." You mumble and invite him in.

"Yes, I'm familiar with these systems." He agrees with you and steps inside, unbuttoning his coat.

"Oh, you've seen this before?"

"In history books."

You scratch your cheek and laugh awkwardly, wondering how much of his knowledge about the current life on Earth is presented as a museum exhibit when compared to Spacer society. 

"I'm going to need a coffee. I guess you don't...?" Your words trail as you await confirmation. 

"I would enjoy one as well, if it is not too much to ask. I've been told it's a social custom to 'get coffee' as a way to have small talk." The synthetic straightens his shirt and looks at you expectantly. 

"Of course. I somehow assumed you can't drink, but if you're meant to blend in with humans...it does make sense you'd have all the obvious requirements built in."

He drags a chair out and sits at the small table, legs crossed.

"Indeed. I have been constructed to have all the functions of a human, down to every detail." 

You chuckle lightly. Well, not like you can verify it firsthand. The engineers back at the Spacer colony most likely didn't prepare him for matters considered unnecessary. 

"I do mean every detail." He adds, as if reading your mind. "You are free to see for yourself."

You nearly drop the cup in your flustered state. You hurry to wipe the coffee that spilled onto the counter and glance back at the android, noticing a smirk on his face. What the hell? Are they playing a prank on you and this is actually a regular guy? Some sort of social experiment? 

"I can see they included a sense of humor." You manage to blurt out, glaring at him suspiciously. 

"I apologize if I offended you in any way. I'm still adjusting to different contexts." The android concludes, a hint of mischief remaining on his face. "Aren't rowdy jokes common in your field of work?"

"Uh huh. Spot on." You hesitantly place the hot drink before him.

Robots on Earth have always been built for the purpose of efficiency. Whether or not a computer passes the Turing Test is irrelevant as long as it performs its task in the most optimal, rational way. There have been attempts, naturally, to create something indistinguishable from a human, but utility has always taken precedence. It seems that Spacers think differently. Or perhaps they have reached their desired level of performance a long time ago, and all that was left was fiddling with aesthetics. Whatever the case is, you're struggling not to gawk in amazement at the man sitting in your kitchen, stirring his coffee with a bored expression.

"I always thought - if you don't mind my honesty - that human emotions would be something to avoid when building AI. Hard to implement, even harder to control and it doesn't bring much use."

"I can understand your concerns. However, let me reassure you, I have a strict code of ethics installed in my neural networks and thus my emotions will never lead to any destructive behavior. All safety concerns have been taken into consideration.

As for why...How familiar are you with our colony?" The android takes a sip of his coffee and nods, expressing his satisfaction. "Perhaps you might be aware, Spacers have a declining population. Automated assistants have been part of our society for a long time now. What's lacking is humans. If the issue isn't fixed, artificial humans will have to do."

You scoff.

"What, us Earth men aren't good enough to fix the birth rates? They need robots?"

You suddenly remember the recipient of your complaint and mutter an apology. 

"Well, I'm sure you'd make a fine contender. Sadly I can't speak for everyone else on Earth." The man smiles in amusement upon seeing the pale red that's now dusting your cheeks, then continues: "But the issue lies somewhere else. Spacers have left Earth a long time ago and lived in isolation until now. Once an organism has lost its immune responses to otherwise common pathogens, it cannot be reintegrated."

True. Very few Earth citizens are allowed to enter the colony, and only do so after thorough disinfection stages, proving they are disease free as to not endanger the fragile health of the Spacers living in a sterile environment. You can only imagine the disastrous outcome if the two species were to abruptly mingle. In that case, equally sterile machinery might be their only hope.

Your mind wanders to the idea. Dating a robot...How's that? You sheepishly gaze at the android and study his features. His neatly combed copper hair, the washed out blue eyes, the pale skin. Probably meant to resemble the Spacers. You shake your head.

"A-anyways, I'll go and gather all the case files I have. Then we can discuss our first steps. Do feel at home."

You rush out and head for your office. Focus, you tell yourself mildly annoyed.

While you search for the required paperwork - what a funny thing to say in this day and age - he will certainly take up on your generous offer to make himself comfortable. The redhaired man enters the living room, scanning everything with curious eyes. He stops in front of a digital frame and slides through the photos. Ah, this must be your Police Academy graduation. The year matches with the data he's received on you. Data files he might've read one too many times in his unexplained enthusiasm. This should be you and the Commissioner; Doesn't match the description of your father, and he seems too old to be a spouse or boyfriend. Additionally, the android distinctly recalls the empty 'Relationship' field.

"Old photos are always a tad embarrassing. I suppose you skipped that stage."

He jolts almost imperceptibly and faces you. You have returned with a thin stack of papers and a hologram projector.

"I've digitalized most files I received, so you don't have to shuffle a bunch of paper around." You explain.

"That is very useful, thank you." He gently retrieves the small device from your hand, but takes a moment before removing his fingers from yours. "I predict this will be a successful partnership."

You flash him a friendly smile and gesture towards the seating area.

"Let's get to work, then. Unless you want to go through more boring albums." You joke as you lower yourself onto the plush sofa. 

The synthetic human joins you at an unexpectedly close proximity. You wonder if proper distance differs among Spacers or if he has received slightly erroneous information about what makes a comfortable rapport. 

"Nothing boring about it. In fact, I'd say you and I are very similar from this point of view." He tells you, placing the projector on the table.

"Oh?"

"Your interest in technology and artificial intelligence is rather easy to infer." The man continues, pointing vaguely towards the opposing library. "Aside from the briefing I've already received about you, that is."

"And that is similar to...the interest in humans you've been programmed to have?" You interject, unsure where this conversation is meant to lead. 

"Almost."

His head turns fully towards you and you stare back into his eyes. From this distance you can finally discern the first hints of his nature: the thin disks shading the iris - possibly CCD sensors - are moving in a jagged, mechanical manner. Actively analyzing and processing the environment. 

"I wouldn't go as far as to generalize it to all humans. 

Just you."

[josephquinnswhore]

Christmas Eve - joel miller x female reader

summary: Christmas Eve with your husband.

word count: 2k

content warning: fluff..slight insinuations to sex, girl dad joel, heavily pregnant reader, anxiety surrounding pregnancy, birth etc. Pre established marriage, joel is in his early 30’s. no outbreak. I think that’s it?

a/n: it’s chrissy eve in Australia… 10:15pm as I’m posting this. Merry Christmas to all my moots / fans of Joel / Pedro / whoever reads this. Love you all x

Lights draped around the window frames and along the porch were strung up, emitting a golden glow along the cleared pathway to the front door. Tinsel is tightly wrapped around the wooden frame of the steps to your front house, complete with a beautiful wreath on your front door.

Through the curtains, you could make out Joel’s figure up on the step ladder, hanging more lights in the living room.

As you step foot into your home, the harsh wind follows you as you tap the snow off your boots on the doormat, a freezing breeze curls up your neck, making you shudder.

But as the front door closes behind you, all you feel is warmth. The ugly Christmas sweater you wore has poorly stitched reindeers, snowflakes and the ugliest shade of green you’d ever seen. Alas, You’re shocked to see Joel wearing his matching sweater as you step through the threshold of the living room.

Tinsel hangs along the hallways, the smell of the pine tree fills your lungs with warmth. Never did you think it could be possible to crave a smell—until now. The fresh scent of pine tree that Joel had cut down, he and Tommy had lugged it into your living room to use as a Christmas tree upon your insistence.

He turns to face you, raising an eyebrow at your messy hair and few intact snowflakes on your sweater. In hand, you’re clutching a sacred tin of powdered hot chocolate.

His ugly Christmas sweater is the same as yours, but red. His dark hair is littered with greys, feral curls untamed and his face framed with a pair of thick specs. The rainbow lights he’s hanging up with a hammer and nail reflect in them for a moment, before he removes them. His sweet, warm brown eyes meet your own.

“House looks good baby,” you call softly, admiring how beautiful the decorations looked with his determination, not allowing you to do anything more than decorate the tree, and wrap the gifts, since it was your favourite part about Christmas, excluding the gingerbread baking.

He climbs down the ladder, hooking his glasses through the neckline of his sweater, setting the hammer and nails onto the flat surface at the top of the step ladder.

“Without your vision this never would have come to life. Sarah’s going to love it.” He preens, stepping toward you. “How was it out there?” With an all recognisable voice of concern, you smile.

It was beginning to snow outside, and Joel was anxious the entire time you’d been gone.

“Chaotic, shopping on Christmas Eve isn’t for the weak. I had to practically fight an old lady to get this tin of hot chocolate you know?”

His soft laugh breaks the tension of his anxiety, just glad to have you back. His arms snake around you, resting on your hips. “Sounds like you needed your man to come with you hm? I’ve got no problems protecting my girl from the oldies.”

“I can handle them, plus.. I’m glad you stayed. Sarah’s going to be so happy when she sees all of this. Did you remember to do Santa’s footprints with flour?”

Tsk. “So much distrust baby, course I remembered, I ain’t the one with baby brain y’know?”.

You roll your eyes at him, shoving his chest lightly. “And who’s fault is that, hm?”

Joel chuckled as you rolled your eyes, knowing how much you secretly loved his teasing. He followed your gaze to the lights before smiling, proud of his work.

"I’ll take half the blame, honey," he said,

“If you don’t recall, I’ll recite the way you begged me to get you pregnant—“

With your cheeks warming you interrupt. “Alright.. alright. I remember.”

His thumb leaves your waist, curling into your cheek to caress you softly with adoration. "I’m glad you convinced me, baby. You look so beautiful, you’re glowing.”

Your cheeks feel warm at his praise. The warmth of the fire crackling inside of the living room begin to ease the ache in your joints, particularly your knees and ankles.

“I look and feel like a whale.” It had been hard on you, anyone could see, with your stomach so round and swollen, the Christmas sweater struggled to stretch over your stomach to cover it entirely.

Joel shook his head, slipping his warm hands underneath your sweater to caress your aching stomach in a soothing notion.

"No," he protested softly. "You look like my beautiful, pregnant wife who is about to bring a little bundle of joy into the world. Half of me, and half of you.”

With a soft hum, you find yourself smiling. The thought warmed your heart, a small bundle of love, made of you and him. “Flattery will get you everywhere with me, Joel Miller.”

"Hm?" Joel hums in return, planting a kiss on your cheek, his nose nudging your own. "That's good to know, I might have to use that to my advantage."

He leaned in to whisper in your ear, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine. "Maybe... it'll get me everything I want."

With a baited breath, you breathe out a shaky response. “And what is it that you want?”

"Hmm..." Joel pretended to ponder about it for a moment, his hands sliding down to rest on your hips again, fingers curling into the curved surface.

"Since you asked," he murmured, his voice low and enticing. "All I really want for Christmas is to spend it with you. But if you're looking for a more tangible gift, I guess I could think of a thing or two."

With a roll of your eyes, you snag a candy cane off of the tree beside you, and uncurl the plastic and stick the hooked peppermint lolly into your mouth, sucking the flavour off with a pop.

“Hot chocolate first.” You insist, kissing his cheek, leaving sticky residue on his warm skin. “I didn’t drive through a snowstorm and fight an old lady for nothing.”

You shake the tin of chocolate powder as if to remind him, garnering his attention.

Joel chuckled wipes the sticky candy cane residue off his cheek. “You got it mumma. Hot chocolate first, then I'll tell you what I really want for Christmas."

Joel gestured towards the couch by the fireplace with one hand and an expectant gaze.

"Go take a seat and relax. I'll make the hot chocolate, and then you can tell me about that beautiful baby of ours and how you’re feeling."

He swats your ass softly, amusement clear in his voice.

“Thanks baby. For everything. My feet are killing me.” Minutes later you graciously accept the warm mug of hot chocolate, the white mini marshmallows are soft and starting to melt.

"Anything for you baby.” You know he means it too.

He took a seat on the couch beside you, the leather sinking under his weight. "How's everything been today? Any contractions?"

You shake your head with a small mouthful of the gooey, warm, sweet drink. “No, nothing yet. I feel like she’s never going to come at this rate..”

A soft hum vibrates within your chest as he encourages you to shift towards him, and he props your feet up onto his lap to remove your shoes and socks, promptly massaging your swollen ankles.

“Do you think she’ll come before the new year?”

Joel continued massaging your ankles, looking down at your huge baby bump as you rubbed it tentatively, he can sense some anxiety coming from you as a first time expectant mother.

Sure, you’d practically raised Sarah since she was twelve months, but this was different. A newborn, the birth.. that was all new to you.

"Hard to tell, baby," he said with a thoughtful expression, not wanting to cause you any stress. "But judging by how big you are, I wouldn't be surprised if she decided to make her debut soon."

He looked up at you, his gaze meeting yours as he decided to pry further, coaxing the truth from you. "You feeling ready for the big day yet?"

“I’m terrified,” you admit in a gentle whisper between you, a sudden sense of vulnerability curates between the two of you. It makes it all the more real.

Joel's expression softened as you admitted your fears, his fingers pausing in massaging your ankles. Watching as you set your now empty mug down onto the coffee table, having satiated your sweet tooth.. for now.

"Hey, I get it," he reassures quietly, his thumb gently rubbing circles on your foot in a comforting gesture this time, rather than a massage. "Giving birth is a big deal, baby. But you're gonna be incredible. You're strong, you're capable, and I'll be right there with you every step of the way. I promise.”

Joel smiled warmly, squeezing your shoulder gently as you slowly processed his words of encouragement, that no matter what happened through the birth, you’d soon have a family of four. “You’re right.. it’s all going to be okay.”

"You're damn right it's going to be okay," he said with conviction. "Because we've got each other, Sarah, and our precious little girl.. Sadie, right?”

He moved his hand from your feet, leaning closer to place his hands on your stomach, feeling his daughter actively kick at his affectionate touch. Seeing you nod in confirmation. “Yeah.. Sadie.”

"Just think, in a few days, you'll be holding our baby in your arms."

The thought is overwhelming, a small baby in your arms, Sarah, who had turned six earlier in the year. She was stoked to be a big sister, asking every day when the baby was coming. Constantly cradling your heavy stomach with her small hands, singing as she prompts the baby to kick.

The image of innocence, a young child that still believes in Santa, which will hopefully carry into the next few years of your lives.

The thought makes you smile, wrapping dozens of presents for everyone and sticking them under the tree for all of you, your family of four plus Tommy and Maria who annually joined you for Christmas celebrations.

Joel glances around the living room, taking in the sights of the lights and the decorations that adorned the house. The tree stood in a corner, covered in colorful, homemade decorations from Sarah, the topper at the top of the tree shaped like a snowflake coloured in with a half dozen colours being Joel's favorite of them all.

"You know," he said softly, his hand still resting on your tummy. "This is going to be our last Christmas as a a family of three..."

The thought makes your heart ache with guilt or perhaps anxiety, biting into your lower lip. “It’s all a bit much isn’t it?”

"Yeah, it is," he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. He was getting older now, creeping into his early thirties. To start over again, he felt a little out of practice.

"It's a lot to take in, baby, I know. But that doesn't mean it's a bad thing. We can do this together, Tommy and Maria will help.. we aren’t doin’ this alone. Sarah will adore our little girl. And I know you’re goin’ to be an incredible mother.”

Ever the romantic.

With a wry smile and your heart swelling inside of your chest, you offer him what he had indignantly prompted for earlier in the evening. “Want to try and get this baby out?”

Your hand trails through his hair with a suggestive smile. Joel raised an eyebrow at your suggestion, a sly grin spreading across his face.

"Hmm... Now that's a proposition I can get on board with, baby."

[pathologicalreid]

milk and cookies | s.r.

in which you and Spencer try to bake gingerbread cookies with your daughter, the operative word being "try"

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: toddler tantrums, cookies, presents, christmas, talks about having another baby, it's not explicit but this is technically jareau!reader word count: 1.02k a/n: i put off doing my own christmas baking to write this so here we all are!! i hope you enjoy it!! now, i have pie to make and gifts to wrap!

In hindsight, you should’ve called it off the moment the bag of flour fell on the floor, but Mila had asked for gingerbread men. The last thing you were going to do was disappoint your daughter this close to Christmas.

You weren’t entirely sure she was going to like the taste of the cookies, but she hadn’t stopped asking about them since she saw them in one of her cartoons. At the very least, she’d enjoy decorating them, but you’d likely have to make some regular sugar cookies after this batch was done. Spencer was a fairly impressive chef, but he didn’t show the same aptitude when it came to baking, leaving you to take the lead.

Your focus on the baking and Spencer’s focus on you had left Mila unattended for just a moment too long, which led to the all-purpose flour on the ground. You assured Mila that it was fine while Spencer got the broom and dustpan. “We’ll still have enough, honey,” you consoled her, wiping away tears as quickly as they fell.

She reached out her arms, and with tears in her eyes and a pout on her face, you couldn’t deny her comfort as you picked her up from her stool and let her wipe her eyes on your sweater. “Cookie,” she whimpered softly, looking sadly at the empty countertop while Spencer rid the dustpan of flour. “Daddy, cookie,” she said mournfully, the kind of misery that could only be depicted by an almost three-year-old imagining a world without cookies.

“I know, princess. We’ll get you your cookies,” he told her, putting the broom back in the closet and rounding the counter to kiss her cheeks. The two of you had debated whether or not it would be okay to purchase a tin of gingerbread men, but a previous agreement to give your daughter nothing but the best holiday experiences led you to this point.

It certainly didn’t help that she was now old enough to understand what Christmas meant: presents and treats.

After her first year of life, you’d needed to put the kibosh on random gift-giving, particularly from Garcia. Though you still gratefully accepted Rosemary’s hand-me-downs from Matt and Kristy, Christmas and her birthday were the only times Mila was allowed to be spoiled. Of course, you and Spencer were more than willing to spoil her year-round.

The three of you resumed working through the dough, falling a bit short on the flour, but Spencer assured you it would be just fine. “What if they don’t turn out?” You asked, letting Spencer wrap his arms around your waist from behind as the two of you watched Mila twirling in her dress in the light emanating from the Christmas tree.

“Then you’ll insist on going back to the store to get the right ingredients,” Spencer whispered, swaying gently to the sound of the holiday music, a record gifted to you by Rossi when he insisted that you needed to raise Amelia with “real” music.

You hummed, “And how do you know that?”

“Because I know you,” Spencer reminded you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “Do you think she’ll be okay knowing we didn’t get everything on her list?”

Your face warmed as you recognized the implication, “I think she was influenced into adding that to the list.” Turning around, Spencer kept his eyes on Mila while you looked up at him. Penelope had acted as the scribe for your daughter’s Christmas list. Naturally, the words ‘brother or sister’ were scrawled on the bottom of the list in glittery gel pen.

Spencer’s hands squeezed your waist gently, “Maybe next year?”

Before you had a chance to respond, a small voice rang out from the living room, “Mommy!”

You spun around, watching your toddler run to you, her two braids bounced on her shoulders as she skidded to a stop. “What is it, sweetheart?”

A shy smile spread on her face, putting her arms behind her back as she prepared herself to ask for something, “Peek?” She asked, pointing at the oven, which currently had your first batch of gingerbread women in it.

Nodding, you leaned over and turned on the oven light, letting your toddler gaze into the oven, startling you when she screamed at the sight of them.

Instinctively, Spencer reached down and scooped her off of the floor, resting her on his hip while you opened the oven to see the misshapen cookies. “Oh,” you said, the dough had spread out on the sheet, creating one slab of what was a sorry excuse for a cookie, “it’s okay, Mila.”

There must’ve been even less flour than you thought, and your daughter wasn’t standing for it, “They’re ugly!” Her exclamation took you by surprise, no more than the tears currently streaming down her face did. Gingerbread cookies were obviously not a welcome treat in your household, this is the second meltdown they’ve caused.

“I’m so sorry, honey,” you said, setting the cookie sheet on the range and setting a comforting hand on her back. You watched as she wiped her tears on Spencer’s shirt, “It’s okay, they’re just a little deformed.”

She turned back like she had an answer for you, but as soon as her eyes caught on the cookies, her face crumpled again. Somehow, your lack of flour had managed to completely devastate your two-year-old, and it was putting a pit in your chest. Spencer walked her into the living room, making sure the gingerbread blob was out of sight.

“Hey,” you whispered to her, tickling her side gently, “How about we make sugar cookies instead? Mommy’s really good at sugar cookies.”

Apprehensively, she nodded, balling up her tiny fists and rubbing at her eyes before reaching out for you. She rested her head on your chest, her eyes starting to shut as you swayed, “Ugly cookies,” she whispered.

What she couldn’t see was the smile that you and Spencer exchanged, holding in your laughter. While you understood that she was expressing her emotions the only way she knew, you couldn’t help but be amused at the phrase “ugly cookies.”

[lookninjas]

You know what I'm gonna miss? I'm gonna miss the weeks being a week long instead of like ten years long. That's what I'm gonna miss.

Anyway, pick a song from a bad description! You do not have to recognize the song you choose. Go from the vibes. Maybe you just need hopeful words from your anti-racist grandpas right now. Maybe you need some emotional support metal, or soothing piano music. Whatever works for you.

At the end of the week I will put all the songs in order, from the song with the fewest number of votes to the song with the highest number of votes. If you would like to hear the playlist, please leave a comment or put it in your reblog, and I will tag you when the playlist is up.

Also, please reblog the poll! It's not much, but it's a minor distraction, and I think we all need a little distraction.

[silverskye13]

Silver's Care Guide for the Impulsively Inclined:

Hi, did you just receive bad news? Are you one of the many many people who, upon receiving bad news, react with self destructive spirals, or lash out in a need for control? Are you just really fucking sad, or angry, and would like an alternative to hurting yourself and others? Are you just feeling a little manic or impulsive?

Welcome to my handy guide for alternative (self) destruction! These are alternatives to physical and immediate harm to your person. That does not necessarily mean they are safe, just safer, and they are all things I've done before to mixed results. With that in mind.

Remember the golden rule: if what you're doing cannot be fixed, repaired, or healed within an hour, don't fucking do it. You have one body, and one life, and regardless of what your thoughts say in the moment, that body and life is necessary for your future happiness. Prioritize yourself; harm objects instead.

Alternatives to harming yourself or others:

Kick something loud. A tin can. A plastic bag. Take it to an outdoor space and see how far you can kick it, and how loud a sound you can make. If you have multiple objects to kick, listen to the differences in sound. How one thing sounds hollow and another rattles.

Kick something soft. A pillow. A hackey-sack. Take it to an outdoor space, or kick it against a sturdy wall (I recommend brick or stone). Listen to the sound of the batting, or the beans. See what shapes you can get it to land in, and how deep a divot your foot can leave.

Tear paper. Get a cheap notebook, some old bills you don't need, note cards or old magazines. See how big of pieces you can make. Put several sheets in your hand and see how thick the paper can get before you can't tear it anymore. See how thin of strips you can tear. Experiment with folding it into shapes and trying to tear along the lines.

Do a very small controlled burn. Newspaper, a cheap notebook from the dollar store, a handful of old homework assignments you don't need, a candle, etc. The best objects are ones made to burn such as matches or candles. In lieu of that, focus specifically on paper, as it will have fewer chemicals/fumes that can damage your lungs if you inhale smoke. Take it to a well ventilated place, the floor of a concrete garage, your driveway, an empty lot or sidewalk. If you have a burn barrel or fire pit, use it. If you have no access to any of these things, make the burn very small [less than half a page at a time] and confine it to your sink. If your building has automatic sprinkler systems, don't do this. Light one edge of your paper on fire and watch it curl. See if you can burn small, individual poke-holes in the page. If you are lighting a candle, watch the wax melt. See if you can light one match using another. When a match is used, try and burn what's left of the stick. If you want some extra catharsis, write a person you hate, a source of your angst, or just general thoughts on the paper you're burning.

Throw rocks. Go outside and touch grass -- and look for rocks while you're there. All sizes are fair game, but the bigger they are, the harder they are to throw. I recommend something the size of a marble. Gather a number of rocks and throw them one at a time, trying to hit targets like trees or fence posts. If you can find a convenient body of water, throw them in there and listen to the splash.

Skip rocks. Skipping rocks across the top of the water can also be a fun challenge to use your aggression on. For skipping rocks specifically, you want a stone that is smooth and flat. Hold it between your forefinger and your thumb, and throw sideways in an arcing motion. You are trying to get the rock to spin. The combination of the spin, and the force, and the flat side hitting the water, causes the skip. I average 3 skips per stone. Beat my average. My Papa, who taught me, used to routinely get 5-7 skips. Beat him after you beat me.

Play a violent or fast paced video game. Most people have games on their mobile or console devices these days. Pick something quick, with low investment and high reward. Shoot-em-ups and arcade games. Something with a number that ticks up, and stock zombies you can kill. Try to beat your high score, or aim for an exact number. My lucky number is 13, so I will often try to score a number that's a multiple of 13.

Break glass. This one requires some investment to do legally and safely. Note: I am not telling you to throw rocks at people's windows or vandalize property. This is an alternative to those things. Find or obtain (I buy mine at Michael's for $10) some glass panes. They can be multicolored if you're feeling fun. Cover a pane in an old sheet or the plastic bag you bought it in. With a thick soled shoe or a rubber mallet, smash it. Try to make fun shapes with the pieces. Listen to the crunch. Keep a broom and dustpan ready, and make sure you have dedicated time to clean the mess. There is nothing worse than walking barefoot through a room and cutting open your foot.

Smash pumpkins, guards, watermelon, etc. Exactly what it says on the tin. Grab your murder-able vegetable of choice and a weapon (stick, hammer, sword, axe, etc) and go wild. Make as big a mess as you can. I mean absolutely destroy that fruit. If you aren't covered in the blood of your prey, have you really won? Take a long shower afterwards, and wear clothes you don't mind staining. Too depressed to clean up the mess? It's fruit. The local wildlife will thank you. Though if it's summer, you may get ants/bees.

Switch a tree. Find a switch. If your parents never made you pick your own switch, congratulations. If they did, you know exactly what you're looking for. Grab a stick, something green and flexible and long -- whip like. Go to the tree you wish to switch, and smack the shit out of it. You can also do this to bushes. Try to make the whip-crack noise, listen to the whistle of the branch through the air. See if you can take the individual leaves off a branch. Smack the shit out the tree with your switch until the switch breaks. If you're still feeling angry and impulsive, rinse and repeat.

Alternatives to moping sadly / wallowing in self pity:

Write a list of things you enjoy. This is just to remind you that you do have joy in life, actually. Focus on finding the smallest things possible, the ones that are truly niche to you and you alone. An example for me would be the strange purple-red color your veins take on when bright light is shining through them. I could stare at that color for ages. I'm talking really strange, personal joys. The way a sharpie brand pen clicks. How saying a word too much turns it into not-a-word. Make a list of those things.

Find a favorite texture and run your hands over it. Over and over. Obsessively. If this texture happens to be a pet, all the better! If not, that is also fine. My favorite texture is running my fingers through my hair when I've put hair gel in it. The feeling of detangling it with my fingers, all the sharp brittle hairs loosening into softness again, is the most cathartic in the world. Close second is my fingernails on very cheap construction paper, the pulpy stuff they give to kindergartners. Pass your hands through the texture until it loses its allure. Listen to the sounds it makes when you run your hands across/through it. Smell it, and smell your hands after you've touched it. Rub it on other parts of your body, like your arms or your neck. Try to pick it up with your feet.

Eat your favorite food. I don't give two shits about calories. This is comfort. If you don't have access to your favorite food, or it is too hard to cook with the energy levels you have, get the closest approximation you can find, or get your second favorite. Eat it slowly. Try to pick the tastes apart on your tongue. Make obnoxious noises while you eat, or eat it in a way you normally wouldn't. Eat ice cream with chopsticks. Eat soup with a butter knife. Lick pudding off the tines of a fork. Use your hands I don't care. Slurp out of the bowl like a dog. Pretend you're a caveman. Get stupid and silly. It's food. It's food. It's food. Enjoy every moment of it!

Tell a friend how awesome they are. Pop into their inbox and ask them about their day. Call them and ask for five minutes of their time. Invite them to dinner. You don't have to get super heartfelt if you're scared of being weird. Just say "Hey, have I told you you're awesome recently? Because you are." Be prepared to list at least one reason why.

Go cry about it. Seriously. In the words of my boss, "Sounds like you need to drink a bottle of wine, put on the saddest episode of your favorite TV show, and have a good sob fest." Crying is a releasing of built up chemicals in your brain, which is why people sometimes cry when they're happy or pissed -- you've got too many emotions inside and you need to literally put them outside. So if you're feeling the Miseries and need a quick release, give yourself a reason to cry and go for it. And I'm not talking like, tasteful wife mourning her husband lost to war with a single stoic tear down her face. Get ugly. Sob your eyes out. Scream, and wail, and thrash. Pretend you're an Irish widow who's just lost her child to famine and dirge. Lament. Do that thing in the Bible where people are so upset they tear at their clothes. When you're done, breathe, and breathe, and breathe again. That feels... Better. Doesn't it?

Listen to calming music, or sing/hum a song. This one might just be a me thing, but it is hard to be truly miserable when there's a soundtrack playing in your thoughts. This works best if the music you're listening to has no words, and is calming. We are not looking for sad mixes on YouTube. We are looking for lofi, and orchestra, and rainy mood. Something to dampen thought, not enhance it. I like putting on rain sounds and humming as I walk through my house. It lets me take action while still providing background noise I can rely on.

And that's about it, I think. I hope! My scattering of thoughts can help you! Or at least get you thinking about what works best for you. Feel free to add your own thoughts in the comments and I will try to reblog them!

Remember: we are prioritizing the safety of self here. This is to curb impulses for self harm, and self destruction, and the harming of others. Above all else, stay safe.

You've got this. I believe in you.

[starlightervarda]

I can't sleep so Star Trek TOS/SNW dashboard simulator

🪆 chekovsgunman Follow

to this day I can't understand why they're called the Three Musketeers if there's FOUR of them? Did Dumas just forget his own main character???

🪴 plantdad Follow

You've got to be kidding me

🪆 chekovsgunman Follow

I know right? A mistake like this would never happen in Russian literature!

5,324 notes

🩺 therealmccoy Follow

After months of taking care of everyone else on this giant tin can I really earned this shore leave. Now I get to drink, relax, flirt with some lovely ladies and sleep until noon 😎 Just what the the doctor ordered!

🩺 therealmccoy Follow

Update: A fucking purple tree ate five crewmen. Again.

955 notes

🖖 iamspock Follow

Despite being among humans for close to a decade, I still find their tendency to overcomplicate and avoid aspects of social situations to be confusing at best and infuriating at worst. So much time is wasted on tedious matters such as who gets to 'make the first move' or 'not come off too strong'.

For example, everyone aboard my vessel is keenly aware of Lt. Uhura and Engineer Scott's 'budding romance'. But their need to extend their oddly avoidant courtship ritual, rather than outright state their interest in one another, is pointless, as well as frustrating to witness.

Why do they do this? Why not 'get it over with', as they say?

I encourage answers from all cultures, human or otherwise.

💅 janicethemenace Follow

I'm sorry Scotty and Nyota are WHAT

💉 xtinechapel Follow

DELETE THIS

💖 ofmanytongues Follow

SPOCK NOOO HE DOESN'T THINK OF ME LIKE THAT 😭

🔧 scott-free Follow

But I do! I thought you knew and were just being nice about it!

💖 ofmanytongues Follow

DMing you rn 😳

🖖 iamspock Follow

You're welcome.

24,103 notes

🌟 j_tiberius_k Follow

PSA: If you visit Antares VII, stay clear of any yellow plants, their pollen can have some...inconvenient effects on the biology of humanoid peoples.

My XO and I suffered through troubling symptoms until it was almost too late. Thankfully, we figured out a cure in time.

🪴 plantdad Follow

I can only find info on the symptoms. What was the cure? 👀

🌟 j_tiberius_k Follow

Do I really have to say it?

6,322 notes

💊 mmmbenga Follow

The galaxy if Klingons didn't exist

⚔️ glorytotheempire Follow

Wow. Humans are openly advocating for our disappearance yet Klingons are the bad guys? I thought your federation stood for peace.

💊 mmmbenga Follow

Cry harder you genocidal wrinkly-faced bitch I hope your planet gets sucked into a black hole

#If you think a joke is on par with what they do then book an MRI because you might have brain damage #fuck Klingons and anyone that sympathizes with them

35,007 notes

😎 ortegaaaas Follow

So I can either skim through this asteroid belt on Warp 2 for 3 hrs or on Warp 5 for 15 mins

🚀 mitchiemitch Follow

Erica no! That's not how navigation works!

😎 ortegaaaas Follow

FLOOR IT???

🚀 mitchiemitch Follow

ERICA NO

😎 ortegaaaas Follow

HOW ABOUT WARP 7 FOR 15 SECONDS?

💖 ofmanytongues Follow

ERICA YOU'RE GOING TO CRASH THE SHIP

😎 ortegaaaas Follow

I AM GOING TO HARNESS LIGHT-SPEED TO ZIGZAG THROUGH THE VOID

🚀 mitchiemitch

ERICA P L E A S E

112,517 notes

🐴 sirsilverfox Follow

I know some species are very private, but you'd think they'd share the important stuff, esp when we should trust each other by now.

How are we supposed to enjoy my weekly dinners if you all don't tell me what to watch out for :/ This is the third time this happens to the same person and I had to get the answer why from our CMO

💫 numerouna Follow

Wait what did I miss while I was gone

🐴 sirsilverfox Follow

Spock got wasted on my chocolate fudge cake and hit his head on the counter ://///

2,904 notes

[munson-blurbs]

Eddie Munson x Best Friend!Reader

Summary: You've been crushing on Eddie since you joined Hellfire Club. Too bad he's crushing on Chrissy Cunningham...right?

Warnings: angst to fluff, idiots in love, super cheesy but it's Valentine's Day so idc WC: 1.6k A/N: My entry for @corroded-hellfire's This is Music! event!

Divider credit to @saradika

Eddie’s looking at her again.

You can’t blame him; he’d be crazy not to stare at Chrissy Cunningham, clad in her tiny cheerleading uniform with a bouncy blonde ponytail and sugar-sweet giggle. If you just ignore him, act like he isn’t imagining sweeping her off of her feet–

“Do you think I should send her one of those candy gram things?”

Almost instinctively, Dustin’s eyes flicker to you, but he turns back to Eddie before anyone can notice. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” he stammers, scrambling for an excuse. “She and Jason, like, just broke up.” 

This information doesn’t deter Eddie in the slightest. “Exactly. She’s probably heartbroken from getting dumped right before Valentine’s Day. I could be her…Freak in Shining Armor.” He grins at his spin on the unwanted nickname, pausing for a half-second before turning to you and asking, “You’re a girl. What do you think?”

The question is almost laughable. What do you think? You think he should stop pining over Chrissy and start seeing you in that same light.

With a painful swallow, you force a strained smile. “If you like her, you should go for it.”

That’s all of the motivation Eddie needs. He slams his palm on the table and proudly declares, “All right, I’m doin’ it.”

Tears bite at your lash line as he strides across the cafeteria over to where the student council has set up the candy gram booth. You feel a gentle hand on your shoulder, and you glance over to see Dustin offering you a sympathetic look.

“He’s an idiot,” he says, low enough so that his words are inaudible to other Hellfire members. “He’ll figure it out one day, but you shouldn’t sit around waiting for it to happen.”

Logic tells you that he’s right, but moving on is easier said than done. Especially when he’s one of your closest friends.

Determined to avoid any inquiring from the other guys, you do your best to assimilate into their conversation about beating this week’s campaign.

Chrissy received Eddie’s candy gram on Valentine’s Day. To his dismay, she also got one from Jason Carver. 

“Of course she went back to him,” Eddie mutters, tossing his tin lunch box on the cafeteria table with a harsh clang. He heaves a sigh and rests his head on your shoulder, gazing up at you with his big, beautiful eyes. “Am I gonna be alone forever?”

“Probably.” You muster a tense laugh and brush a tendril of his hair off of your cheek. “Maybe you can try sending out a message in a bottle and see if anyone bites.”

He harrumphs and slumps over, burying his face in his palms. “She told me she ‘appreciates my friendship.’” He shakes his head. “Fucking humiliating.”

The irony of his statement is too much to bear, and you slip away from the table with a half-hearted excuse about needing to study for the history test you have next period. 

The walk to the library feels like it takes decades, silent tears falling as soon as you find an empty table among the stacks of books. 

Chrissy wanted Jason the way Eddie wanted Chrissy, which was the same way you wanted Eddie. 

And no one wanted you. 

A few minutes pass before Jeff slides into the seat next to you. “We’re in the same history class. Figured it would make your lie more believable if I had to study, too.” He shrugs. “Plus, I wanted to check on you.”

“I’m fine.”

He doesn’t believe you, you know he doesn’t. Embarrassment is written all over your face, both at your abrupt exit from the cafeteria and your pathetic crush on Eddie. 

Jeff takes a deep breath. “Look, Eddie doesn’t know what he wants.”

“Seems pretty obvious to me that he wants Chrissy,” you say wryly, twirling a pen between your fingers. 

“No…I mean, yeah. But that’s because she’s, like, safe.”

You scoff. “Asking out the Queen of Hawkins High is safe?” 

“Sounds ridiculous, I know, but hear me out.” Jeff leans in a bit closer so he can whisper to you. “She’s not part of our group, so he doesn’t have to worry about constantly hanging out with her. Plus, she’s nice enough to not publicly destroy his ego. I’m sure she didn’t tell Jason about the candy gram, or else he would’ve announced it to the whole school by now.”

You nod in reluctant agreement. 

“And speaking of that jackass,” Jeff continues, “how many times have they broken up and gotten back together?” 

“Too many to count.” Their relationship is like one of the novelas you watch when you’re stuck at home with a fever. 

“Exactly.” Jeff exhales. “Chrissy paid a little bit of attention to Eddie because she wanted some weed for a party, and now he’s head over heels for her. Because he can be. Because her rejection stings a little, but it’s nothing compared to how being rejected by you would feel.”

Wiping at your tear-dampened cheeks, you shake your head. “I don’t think he cares about being rejected by me.”

He mumbles something under his breath but doesn’t say another word until the bell rings, and the two of you walk to class together. 

Thank God you don’t actually have a test today; you wouldn’t be able to focus long enough to answer a single question. All you think about is what Jeff had implied: that Eddie does like you but is afraid to ruin your friendship.

You brush off the idea as ridiculous. Why would Eddie choose you over the gorgeous head cheerleader?

Uneasiness builds within you until it’s impossible to ignore, and you scrawl a note in the back of your composition notebook before you can fully think it through.

Eddie–

I’m sorry that Chrissy turned you down. Trust me when I say that I know what it’s like to feel unwanted by the person you want the most. It sucks, but you’ll move on and realize that she was the one who missed out, not you.

You sign your name and add a P.S. Fuck Valentine’s Day for good measure, folding the paper in fourths and slipping it into his locker between class periods. Not quite a confession, but it’ll do.

Eddie’s waiting by your locker after the last bell rings, scraping a front tooth against his bottom lip and fiddling with something. As you get closer, you realize that something is your note.

“Who is he?” Eddie demands to know, sighing impatiently when you raise your brows in confusion. “This mystery guy who doesn’t want you. Who is he?”

“No one. It’s fine,” you say quickly, refusing to make eye contact with him as you twist open the lock. “It was just to let you know that you’re not alone in this, okay?”

He shakes his head and chuckles tersely. “Nah, not okay. I’ve gotta kick his ass.” He shuffles from foot to foot, already anticipating a fight.

“Well, you can’t.”

“And why not?” Eddie scoffs. “I know I’m scrawny, but I’m pretty damn scr–”

“Because you’d be kicking your own ass!” The words fly out of your mouth before you can stop them. Your blood runs cold and your pulse thuds in your ears when you realize what you’ve said. “I’m sorry. That was too much, especially with what happened with Chrissy today.”

You start to leave, but you’re tugged back in place by his gentle grasp on your wrist. “Follow me,” he murmurs. He makes a beeline for the Hellfire room with you right on his heels. As soon as you walk in, he closes the door. “Repeat that? Because I don’t think I heard you right.”

“You’re the guy who doesn’t want me,” you manage through the lump in your throat, “and it’s okay, because we can’t help who we like and who we don’t. I don’t want you to feel guilty or anything like that.” 

You’re rambling, and you tuck your lips into your mouth to stop yourself from talking yourself in circles.

Silence seeps into the room, the only noise is the hum from the fluorescent lights overhead. Finally, Eddie speaks again. “Do you know why I asked you to join Hellfire?”

You swivel your head back and forth in a definite no.

“Yeah, I tried to keep it that way,” he says with an awkward laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “So, um, I kinda had a massive crush on you. And I figured that we’d get to know each other here and then I’d ask you out or whatever, but I kept chickening out. So…there ya have it.” He shifts his hands as if to say ta-da.

“And now you like Chrissy.” Out with the old, in with the new.

Eddie takes a small step closer, one ring-clad hand taking yours. “Not the way I like you,” he breathes, his other thumb tracing a faint line over your jaw. “Not even close.”

You close the gap between you, tilting your head so your lips meet his. The fear that he’ll hesitate or turn his head altogether disappears as soon as he pulls you closer, deepening the kiss. His hand tucks behind your ear, and he leaves it there until you both have to break away for air.

The two of you wear matching smiles, shy but relieved. Eddie leans in to kiss you once again, only to be interrupted by the rest of the club’s musings.

“Took them long enough.”

“Seriously, I thought we were just gonna have to watch them pine over each other forever.”

“Crap, do you think they can hear us?”  

“Yeah, shit-heads, we can hear you,” Eddie calls out with a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief before turning back to you.

“Now, where were we?”

--

[flamingpudding]

Message to the past

Was one nice family dinner in the Wayne Family really possible? Jason was starting to think it wasn't. The evening started out so well, for once he did not have any sort of beef with Bruce for the moment. He got to spend time with Alfred preparing the dinner. Neither Demon Brat nor Pretender were at each other's throats because of a case yet and there was no argument about to happen with Dickie either and he didn't feel like avoiding Bruce. Did he mention he didn't feel like leaving the Manor at the first sight of his old man?

Everything felt like it was gearing up to be a nice and well deserved family dinner with all his siblings being in one space for once.

That was until a Lazarus Green portal opened and a fucking silver green tin can smack dab hit him square in the face. Causing him to fall backwards in his chair and hitting his head painfully on the floor. Why didn't they have carpet in the dinner room again? Oh right, someone -one of his siblings- got mud all over it after patrol and Alfred decided the dinner room didn't need it anymore.

Once the first shock of what had just happened passed. They got to inspect the tin can and found a letter inside it.

Dear future Dad,

Gramps Clockwork spoilered that there is a mess up in the timeline because of the speedsters and I can fix it like this, which is why I am writing this. Please pick me up in the attached location marked on the map. My current self is in need of saving and I honestly would like to spare myself at least a little of the trauma that's about to happen.

Also please bring some explosives. You always regretted not blowing up a corupted govermental facility, so here is your chance of doing so! Be proud, though. I blew up a bunch of them in the future, with supervision, of course, from my uncles and aunts, so great grandpa wouldn't worry.

Please pick me up? Thanks if you do!

Your future adopted son.

PS: please ignore any complains my current self might have. I was in server need of a real parental figure and as you like to say as stubborn as grandpa.

PSS: also please stop antagonizing grandpa about my adoption. It's bad enough that you had to fight him over it in the first place.

PSSS: please bring great grandpa's cookies, I beg you please! I swear I will do all my schoolwork and be a straight A student if you do!

The girls of the family started to pout while the boys exchanged glances. Jason narrowed his eyes at his brothers. There was a silent argument happening and Bruce was watching them all also.

But if there was one thing Jason was sure about. It was that the tin can smacked him in the face. Which meant the letter was his and the time shenanigans arson kid with sass was going to be his kid. His brothers AND Bruce can fight him over that.

Like the kid has said in his letter.