#Ice Bucket Assembly

[hnkparts]

LG ACZ74170501 Refrigerator Dispenser Ice Bucket Assembly | HnKParts

The Dispenser Assy-Ice For Lge Acz74170501 is an essential component of contemporary refrigerators, particularly engineered to deliver ice effectively. This assembly is integrated inside the refrigerator unit and consists of several components, including a motor, auger, chute, and dispenser mechanism. When activated, the motor turns the auger, effectively breaking up and delivering ice from the ice producer to the dispenser chute.The chute then transports the ice to the dispenser, where it may be easily accessible by users. This assembly provides a smooth and hassle-free ice pouring experience, allowing customers to easily access ice as needed, whether for refreshing drinks or culinary purposes. 

[facts-i-just-made-up]

How do you build a atomic bomb?

Easily!

All you need are a few household items, a little bit of patience, and a Class 1 Top Security clearance for the manufacture of biological, chemical or nuclear weapons under the Fermi laws of 1954 contingent to permission from the United Nations Security Council.

You're gonna need-

A box of matches

A blender

Tape

Some wire mesh (Like a window screen, for sifting)

Cake mix (Yellow sponge cake works best)

Ziplock bags

String

Ice cubes (The cold kind, not the rapper/actor)

A toilet paper tube

A Catholic Missal

An empty kitty litter bucket

First, you're gonna need two rare substances- Weapons grade uranium and "heavy" water. For the uranium, just take your yellow cake mix and sift it with the wire mesh. Whatever stays on top of the mesh- That's weapons grade. For the heavy water, take some ice cubes, which are heavier than water but still made of water, and put them in the blender. By breaking up the ice cubes and releasing the water, you keep the weight but make it a fluid. This is a process that scientists call "Putrefaction".

To build the weapon, pack some uranium into one end of the toilet paper tube and then cover that end with the Catholic Missal. This guarantees what we call a "Critical Mass" of uranium. Then take a smaller wad of uranium and pack it into the other end of the tube, leaving plenty of space between the two.

Tape the box of matches to that end of the tube. It will act as an explosive device to send the "bullet" of uranium into the critical mass, thus resulting in a nuclear fission explosion.

You now have a nuclear fission device! This device has a yield equal to about 10 thousand tons of T.N.T. But fission is for wimps, right? So let's turn that fission bomb, into a fusion bomb!

Tape your string to the matches to act as a fuse, and then put the nuclear warhead in a ziplock bag. Be sure to seal it tight! Now place that assembly into the kitty litter bucket. Make sure it's empty of kitty litter before the next step.

Fill the rest of the bucket with the heavy water you made in step one, and seal the top of the kitty litter bucket with the string still poking out. Once the fuse is lit, it will light the matches and detonate the nuclear fission bomb. This acts as a heat source to boil the heavy water, and when heavy water boils- Nuclear Fusion!

Congratulations, your bomb is now complete. Remember that it's illegal to carry or detonate a nuclear fusion warhead in public (except in Texas), and bear in mind this will be quite a bit stronger than your usual firecrackers. We recommend only setting off your nuclear device on official U.S. testing grounds, such as the desserts of New Mexico or islands in the Pacific only populated by tribes under no country's protection, because that's seriously what the U.S. did.

So play safe and have a good time,

-facts-i-just-made-up.tumblr.com

[impale-me-radio-daddy]

Heaven Spent

℣ Pairing: Vox X angelic!reader

℣ Summary: A naïve angel descends to Hell looking for Vagina. Finds Vox instead.

℣ Content notes: Voyeurism, first time for everything, explicit sexual content, thigh riding, guided masturbation, Vox being Vox, pet names: mostly sweetheart, babydoll and baby, reader is a girl, reader has a pussy and tits, reader has a name and it's a fucking stupid one.

Now has a sequel: Hell 2 Pay!

You weren’t a real exorcist, not really. You didn’t pass the wingspan requirement for a start, or, as the Lieutenant never ceased to remind you, the strength requirements. You were never getting selected into one of the lucky squads who got to go down to Hell and do battle with demons. But you had begged to join, and everyone needed someone to sweep the floors and do laundry, and so, that was you, swooping through the exorcist barracks with a mop and bucket while everyone around you trained in combat.

Most of the exorcists didn’t even acknowledge your existence. You were invisible, inaudible, the help. The big exception to the rule was Lieutenant’s strongest soldier, Vagina. You would see her training tirelessly, on the practice grounds after all the others had left, and bring her a fresh towel and a pitcher of iced lemonade. She would smile at you. She knew your name. When you started talking about something that interested you, she didn’t tell you to go away or walk off.

In all of Heaven, Vagina was the closest thing you had to a friend.

And then, one day, the squads had come back from their battles with the forces of Hell, and she had been gone. No-one had wanted to look you in the eye, no-one even mentioned her name. Gone. Dead? No, Vagina was Heaven’s strongest soldier, you’d heard Adam say as much. There was no way she could be dead.

Had they left her behind? Every day your thoughts were plagued by thoughts of Vagina stuck behind enemy lines, Hell’s forces doing terrible things to her. And of course the Lieutenant wouldn’t send more exorcists after her; how could she risk Heaven’s forces for the wellbeing of a single soldier? But you? You were disposable. You were no asset to Adam’s forces, your wings so malformed that you could barely fly, and with Vagina gone there wasn’t anyone who would miss you on a personal level.

With your access to the exorcists’ laundry, it was easy to assemble a makeshift uniform for yourself, a spare sword strapped to your waist as you lined up with the departing squads. The masks disguised everyone’s faces, so no-one looked twice at you. You filtered out the chatter of the exorcists around you as you watched the portal to Hell open, a glowing circle with a core of deep red.

You would find Vagina, and return to Heaven with her, useful at last. Maybe the Lieutenant would be so impressed that she would make you a full exorcist.

Vox slurped his kale and spirulina smoothie as he watched the descending horde of angels through fifteen distinct drone feeds. This year’s purge was uncharacteristically quiet in the Vee tower; Valentino was doing some sort of romantic make-up dinner with one of his sluts and Velvette was organizing some sort of augmented reality event where sinners ran the length of the city taking selfies without getting killed by exorcists, which left Vox holding down the fort.

One of the systems gave a beep as it picked up an anomaly. Now that, that was interesting. It looked like the pack had a straggler this year. Vox picked a drone to fly closer, opening a channel to Velvette as he did so.

“-you better not be taking the piss, Vox. I’m sort of a tiny bit busy here, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“Hear me out, this could be big,” said Vox, and Velvette gave a snort but went quiet. “Any of your fuckheads out near the west side of the pentagram?”

One of your wings was bigger than the other. That was just how it was, just a little defect that made it difficult to fly, and almost impossible to fly long distances. When you had asked about it, Saint Peter had patted you on the shoulder and told you that everyone was special in different ways. And you had accepted that. Some people got beautiful singing voices, or brains that could do mathematics faster than anyone else’s, and you got one wing that was smaller than the other, primary feathers growing in with a slight curl that meant your flight was wobbly and exhausting.

And that was just part of God’s plan.

What was not part of God’s plan, it seemed, was for you to keep up with the squads of exorcists descending to Hell. They sped up as they passed through the portal, the pack quickly speeding up to a pace that your wings could no longer carry you at. You found yourself drifting behind, panting as you beat your wings to correct your uneven path.

Strangely, you didn’t see the forces of Hell rising to do battle, but you supposed you were inexperienced in this sort of thing. The last time you’d even swung a sword had been at the exorcist tryouts. Giving up on catching up with the pack, you hung back, your wingbeats slowing as you surveyed the city below from your wobbly vantage point. You should find somewhere to hide, you reasoned, until the battle was over and you could look for Vagina safely.

Finding Vagina in Hell was harder than you would have guessed. Even after you shed your exorcist disguise and folded your wings away, people didn’t really want to talk to you, and when you started asking about Vagina, faces turned covetous, and people started asking for money. Which, of course, you didn’t have. You didn’t need money in Heaven, why would people want it in Hell? But everywhere you asked, the answer was the same. If you wanted to know about Vagina, you needed money. And if you wanted money, well, you needed a job.

That's how you found yourself in a line of sinners three miles long, for an open audition for a spokesperson for something called Angelic Security, a subdivision of something called VoxTek. You weren’t going for the audition itself, but a sinner had offered you money to queue for them, and queuing was a pretty morally decent, angel-appropriate act. You knew how to queue. You could queue for days.

You were queuing when a fish demon with a VoxTek nametag walked past, on a video call with someone important, the other side of the conversation blaring out the speakers of his tablet as he held it up to his face.

“Listen, do you have any idea how fucking busy I am today? Whose crackpot idea was this anyway? No, don't answer that, I don't fucking care. Just pick the three at the front and, uh, that one, no, the hot one with the gray skin.”

“Whatever you say, sir.” The fish demon glanced over his shoulder at you, making a beckoning gesture as the man on the other end cut the call.

You pointed to your chest with a silent me? and the fish demon nodded, walking on without a backwards look as you trailed along after him.

“Actually, I was holding a spot in the line for someone else, they were going to pay me money, if you could let me borrow a phone, I could -” you scurried to keep up. “-you know I don't think it's really fair that someone’s paid me to keep their place and now I'm going in with you, isn't that against the rules?”

“Look, lady.” The fish demon held out a hand as he waved the other candidates over, to grumbling from the other people in the line. “I'm not paid enough to deal with your drama shit, save it for the casting director.”

“Are you really going to leave all those people out there?” you asked quietly as the assistant let you through the security gate at the front of the building. “Some of them have been waiting for days. It doesn’t seem fair.”

The man shrugged. “What can I say? Welcome to Hell.”

Out of a lingering sense of guilt, you let the three women who had been in the front of the line go into the audition first, so that when you were called up, no-one was waiting. The casting director turned out to be the tall demon in the shirtsleeves and sweater vest that the dour fish had been talking to on his tablet. He had a large, rectangular head, and was handsome, in a striking sort of way.

He was sat on a bench against the wall of the audition room, elbows on his knees, and he looked up as you came in, watching you walk, an eyebrow raised.

“H-hey.” You gave a little wave. “I think there’s been a misunderstanding. You see, I was saving a space in the line for someone else, but the assistant told me to come in here, and, you see, I was hoping that maybe I could phone the person, and, um, maybe they could do the audition?”

“You have no idea who I am, do you?” The television headed demon gave you a sidelong grin.

“I'm really sorry, but I don't.” You bit your lip, mentally preparing for a lie. “You see, I'm kind of new here.”

“Oh yeah? How long since you, y'know?” He made a vague hand gesture, getting to his feet.

Oh, darn. You had no idea what a good number would be here. You furrowed your brow. So if the universe was about ten thousand years old, and the average human lived to one hundred and twenty years old… a reasonable amount of time for a newcomer to have been in Hell was…

“Oh, not long. Only about three hundred years.” You plastered a big smile over your face, hoping Mr Television bought your deception.

“Oh, only three hundred you say? Wow, you are new, huh.” He smiled back at you, and you did a quick internal fist pump. Success! You were a natural liar! At this rate, you'd be able to find Vagina and be out of Hell in no time flat.

“My name's Vox, by the way. Like the company.” He snapped his fingers, and the tagline VOXTEK: TRUST US scrolled across the big screen on the wall of the audition room. He tilted his head. “What's yours?”

“My name?” You blinked. It had been a very long time since you'd had to introduce yourself to anyone not already aware of your name, and everybody in Hell just seemed to enjoy making up rude epithets for you, so you hadn't bothered with introductions. “My name's, uh, Areola. Like the -” you paused, unbuttoning your shirt.

Vox stared at you, frozen for a second before he raised a hand to cover yours, halting your struggling fingers. “You don't need to whip them out, dollface. I know what a boob is.”

“Y-you do?” you stammered, part of you thankful and a smaller, more sinful part disappointed, the touch of his fingertips on your hand like fire against your nerves. He was probably down here for one of the carnal sins, the sins of the flesh Chastity was always warning the younger angels about. “Of-of course you do, silly me.”

“Can I call you Ari?”

You’d always hoped the other angels would give you a nickname like that. Like Vagina was called Vaggie by her squadmates. But everyone in Heaven who called you by any name at all called you Areola, even Vagina did. To have Vox just give you a nickname like this, apropos of nothing, seemed too good to be true.

“Y-yeah! I’d like that. A lot, actually.” You swallowed. “You’re the first person who’s been nice to me here,” you admitted.

Vox shrugged. “I’m a nice guy, most of the time. I can afford to be. You want the job?”

“What?” You blinked. “B-but I didn’t audition. I w-wasn’t even in the line.”

“It’s not a hard job, if that’s what you’re worried about,” said Vox, holding out his hand. “You take a few photos, record a few infomercials, and bam, you’re done! You won’t even have to run your own social media profiles. And the money-”

“I’m really sorry, Vox, I-I can’t.” You took a step backwards, hands raised. “I-I should go. I don’t want to waste any more of your time.”

You ran.

You ran without thinking, heart in your throat, past the security doors, away. Taking something that wasn’t yours was stealing, even if someone offered it to you. You should never have gone inside. Hell was terrible and confusing, and you wished that Vagina was here. She would know what to do. She would have said something tough, and made Vox do the right thing. She wouldn’t have run away. You stopped, panting for breath, and realized you had no idea where you were. You were down an alley, a crowd of curious sinners behind you.

“Hey, it’s that bitch who cut the line.”

“Thinks she’s better than us.”

Oh, this was bad. You took a step back, reaching for your angelic sword with a trembling hand.

Velvette’s face looked down at Vox from the big screen on the wall where the tagline had scrolled, thirty feet wide. “That’s seriously who you’re gonna hire as the new Angelic Security mascot? You have to be fucking shitting me.”

Vox rolled his eyes. “Velvette, she is a real, literal fucking angel. I challenge you to think of a more appropriate pick.”

“It’s your subsidiary, so whatever.” Velvette pursed her lips. “I just hope you know that I’m not costuming her dumpy arse.”

“Your concerns are duly noted,” said Vox, redirecting his attention from the call to his nearby drones. “Now pipe down. I need to focus.”

Vox gave a small sigh as he transferred a small portion of his conscious mind to the drone that hung in the air over the dispersing line of would-be auditions, looking for your face. He flitted from security camera to security camera, searching for a telltale flash of white and grey.

Truthfully, he hadn’t expected you to be so naive. Exorcists, from what data he had on them, were hardened killers, who regarded sinners as scum to be cleaned up.

Vox hadn’t spent a lot of time with exorcists, but he had spent a lot of time with killers, and his guts told him you weren’t one. Which was weird, but he could work with that. He just needed to make sure that no-one else got to you before he did.

“Alleyway behind the old munitions factory,” said Velvette from above him, sounding bored. “There’s three pissed off old slags about to shiv your new pet; someone’s streaming it.”

Fuck. Vox grimaced, switching his attention to the feed. Sure enough, there you were, fear on your face as three taller sinners made you back up against a wall, your hands out, pleading. “I’m gonna cut the signal. Make sure nothing goes viral.”

Travel by lightning was fast, but it wasn’t instantaneous. Vox manifested in a flash of ozone to see two dead sinners, you with your sword through the guts of a third. Your eyes were glowing gold, unseeing and dangerous, a splatter of blood across your face.

“Ari?” Vox ventured, keeping his voice as low and calming as he could.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, oh-” You yanked the sword from the guts of the woman who’d been about to stab you, and oh goodness that was a lot of blood that was gushing out of her. You looked in horror at Vox. “I didn’t-” you started, then stopped. The one person in this place who had been kind to you, and he had to see you like this? These sinners weren’t even soldiers; they just looked like regular people, and granted they had tried to murder you, but that didn’t mean they deserved to die.

“Hey, babydoll. Easy, now.” Vox approached you his hands out, calming.

You were a murderer now; the police would catch you and you’d have to go to Hell jail. You didn’t want to go to Hell jail; the food was probably terrible and you’d never be able to find Vagina. The back of your throat hurt at the hopelessness of it all. You stared at Vox, your vision wobbling as tears formed.

“You’ll be okay, shit, uh, let’s get that big knife out of your hand-” Vox’s blue talons were on your fingers, prying them from the hilt of your sword as he moved in, and you resisted for a second before his coaxing moved you and you let go, surrendering the sword into Vox’s grasp as his other arm wrapped around you. “You’re gonna be okay, I got you.”

Pressing your face into the fuzzy material of Vox’s sweatervest, you gave a big, ugly sob. You clung to him as you cried, vaguely aware of his arm around you, his claws petting your hair. Oh, you’d ruined everything now. He probably thought you were pathetic.

“I’m really sorry,” you mumbled against his chest. “Y-you should probably hand me over to the police now, so you don’t get in trouble.”

“Excuse me?” Vox’s tone was incredulous.

You sniffed, blinking more tears from your eyes. “You know, the police? Since I committed three murders?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Vox breathed, looking down at you, his claws carding through your hair. “There aren’t any police in Hell. Well, there are lots of cops in Hell, sure, but no police force.”

“B-but I just, I just-” you motioned to the bodies in the alleyway behind you. “How will I be punished?”

“Oh, fuck me, you’re adorable.” Vox covered his face with a hand. “You’ve had a long day, babydoll. Let me take you home, and you can have a bath, and a change of clothes, and maybe then we can talk about your problems, yeah? I’m sure we can come to some kind of arrangement.”

No-one had ever been this nice to you, even in Heaven. Part of you wondered whether Vox was in Hell by mistake, and you nodded, slowly, face against his chest again as his hand moved to the small of your back.

“You’re bringing a fucking exorcist to our fucking living quarters?” Valentino’s eyebrow raised above the frames of his pink glasses. “Are you fucking stupid? Or just thinking with your dick?”

“Look, I’ve just gotta win her trust, okay” Vox leaned back, analyzing Valentino’s surroundings through the videofeed. He was in his studio, which was a good thing. There was also a visible lovebite on the exposed skin above Val’s second set of arms. Which was good; it meant Valentino and his on-off squeeze were on talking terms.

“So you can fuck her?” Valentino took a drag on his cigarette, pink smoke briefly clouding the lens of the camera.

“Uh, so she’ll fucking work with us.” Vox sighed heavily. “You have a one track fucking mind sometimes Val, I swear.”

“But you are gonna fuck her, aren’t you?” There was a gleam in Val’s eye now.

“First of all,” said Vox, holding up a finger, careful with his volume so that his words didn’t travel to you ensconced in your bubble bath in the next room. “I don’t recall putting you in charge of where I put my dick. And secondly, fuck you.”

Valentino laughed, good-natured. “Alright, papito.” He grinned, gold tooth flashing. “I’ll take my Angel out somewhere else tonight, you have fun with yours.”

They compared calendars before Vox closed the call, grumbling to himself. All things considered, it could have gone much worse- if Valentino hadn’t been in a good mood, he might have decided to be jealous and that would have been a pain in the ass. Valentino’s instincts weren’t wrong, either; the big moth had been around Vox for too long to not have picked up on his preferences. The combination of dangerous power and lack of worldliness just did something for him. And then there was your body.

Vox chanced a peek through the security cameras as you climbed out of the bath, a sneak preview, he told himself, growing hard in his pants as he took in the soft lines of your thighs, the crest of downy feathers that covered your pudenda, snowy white to match your hair. Fuck, but you looked soft all over, as if his hands would sink right into you. Vox cut the feed with a groan; if he kept on watching there was a good chance you’d walk in on him jacking off over the video, and that wasn’t really the impression he wanted to make. No, he needed to be trustworthy, a good guy, someone you felt you could work for. Someone you’d trust your soul to.

And Vox might be a voyeur, but he could keep it in his pants if he needed to. Business before pleasure.

Vox was right; the bath did help. Warm water cradled your body, the panic that had wracked you flowing out of you. You added bath salts, and bubbles, and stayed in there much longer than you really needed to, feeling the dirt that had accumulated on you since your descent into Hell float away. Vox’s tower was the only place you’d visited in Hell so far that had been clean, all shining chrome and expensive polished black granite. Finally, you climbed out, even your conscience feeling cleaner than it had when you had started, and grabbed a towel so fluffy that felt like it had been imported from Heaven.

The outfit that Vox had left for you was modest and well-fitting, a soft wool cardigan with a camisole and blouse to go underneath and a pleated a-line skirt that reached your mid-calf, all in eggshell colors that complemented your grey skin. Even the underwear was perfectly sized, and you tried not to think too hard about it- you were pretty sure that one of VoxTek’s subsidiaries was a fashion company of some sort, and Vox had probably guessed.

“Hey, Ari.” Vox gave you a smile as you stepped out, and you found yourself smiling back at him. “You feeling better? I ordered us Dim Sum.”

“I, uh, yeah. Thank you.” You pushed your hair behind your ear. “For everything.”

Vox’s smile only grew. Your plan had been to thank him for his help and leave, but he’d gone to the trouble of organizing you food already and leaving would be rude and the little steamed buns he was offering you smelled very good, so you found yourself sitting with him, listening to him talk about the food as he piled different items onto your plate. All of it was delicious.

“-and you need to try this one, it’s got the spicy shrimp paste, I don’t know how you are with spice, so it might come on a bit strong for you, but it’s worth it, trust me.”

You nodded, your reflexive oh no, I couldn’t dying on your lips as you smelled the bun, the delicate scent of the shrimp coupled with a dark, sweet undercurrent. You bit in, the gummy texture of the outer dumpling giving way to something coarser and more savory; perfectly cooked crustacean flesh that leaked juices when broken, in the paste that Vox had described, which imbued a richness and a sweetness both at once. It had a spice that began as an ache on the back of your tongue, and built and built upon itself, until you were salivating almost painfully and yet somehow wanting more. You closed your eyes, your jaw stopping to prolong the moment.

“So.” Vox picked his moment to lean in, face perilously close to yours. “What do you want, Ari?”

You, was your embarrassing, gut instinct response, thankfully stymied by your mouth full of dumpling. You chewed and swallowed, which gave you time to think. Vox was trustworthy. He’d been nothing but kind to you. He wanted to help. “I had- have a friend,” you said, feeling your pulse quicken. It was a risk, telling Vox. If he figured out that you were an angel, you’d be in big trouble. “She’s in Hell, somewhere. I’m looking for her.”

“I’m pretty good at finding people,” said Vox, his expression sympathetic. “Maybe I could help?”

You shook your head, the taste of the dumpling still lingering on your tongue. “I can’t ask you to do that. You’ve already done so much, and I’ve got no way to repay you. I don’t even have money.”

“I’m sure there’s a way we could help each other,” said Vox, unperturbed. “Money isn’t everything, after all. Let’s think about it, see what we come up with, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you echoed Vox, nodding slowly. “You’re really nice to me,” you added, with a small frown.

“And is that a bad thing?” Vox asked, his screen tilting. He picked up the second of the shrimp paste dumplings with his chopsticks.

“No,” you admitted, quietly.

“Then,” said Vox, holding the dumpling out to you, not to your plate this time, but to your face. “You should accept it, yeah?”

Your face flushed from grey to white as you came to the realization that Vox’s intention was to hand feed you, a warm sensation in your stomach that had nothing to do with hunger. Cupping your hands under the dumpling to ensure none spilled, you opened your mouth. Again the outer shell of the dumpling was gummy against your lips, and you held it gently between your teeth so that Vox could withdraw his chopsticks. He looked happy as you chewed, and you told yourself this was nothing untoward, simply the demon being a good host.

“We should watch a movie,” he said, chin in his hand as he watched you chew. “I’ll let you pick.”

Hell, it turned out, or at least Vox, had a much wider selection of titles than were available in Heaven, and you hesitated to pick. In the end, Vox quizzed you on what you’d seen and what your favorites were, and picked something out. His earlier demand, of accept it, let me be nice to you, stuck in your head, overriding doubts that you might have expressed. You’d been warned, in Heaven, about the dangers of fraternization. How two people, watching a movie together alone, could fall into sin. But you’d never done anything like that, and Vox seemed nice.

When Vox patted the sofa next to him, you hesitated, and so Vox grabbed the bucket of popcorn he’d made and placed it by his thigh, a barrier between you.

“Better?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.

You looked at the popcorn. “It won’t stop us kissing,” you joked, a small smile.

“You can kiss me, if you like,” Vox returned your grin. “I won’t mind.”

He wasn’t joking, you realized, a surge of warmth through your core that caught you unguarded. “Isn’t that a sin?”

“Kissing?” Vox raised an eyebrow. “I’ve read like five, six versions of the bible and I don’t think any of them said shit about kissing.”

“Oh.” You swallowed, feeling your face turn from gray to white in a blush.

Vox didn’t do more than to open the possibility for you, but that possibility remained, playing at the periphery of your mind as you watched the movie with him, his arm looped easy round your shoulders, the bucket of popcorn the only chaperone stopping your hips from touching his. You could lean over, and just kiss him.

Waiting until he was engrossed in the film, his slim side profile showing to you, you leaned in, pressing your lips to the plastic of his screen’s casing. The material was smooth, the edges angular, and strangely warm.

“Heyy. What was that?” Vox tilted his head to you, an amused cast to his lips. When you didn’t answer his grin widened. “Did you just kiss me? In the middle of the movie?”

You tore your gaze from his, embarrassed. “Y-you said I could,” you protested, adding a belated, “sorry.”

“But kissing is usually a two-way thing,” said Vox, leaning in.

“I didn’t kiss your face,” you said, very factually.

“You didn’t,” agreed Vox, pushing a strand of hair back from your ear, the sharp edge of his talon tracing over sensitive skin. “So I won’t either.”

Vox leaned in, the bucket of popcorn chaperoning you threatening to topple as he drew his lips to your ear. The close proximity of his screen was enough to make your skin tingle, and you drew in a breath and held it, an uncomfortable pulse building between your legs as he took his time, breath hot over your neck and the shell of your ear. You didn’t dare tell him to hurry up, didn’t dare tell him to stop, not with how his mere proximity had you quivering, until at last you felt his lips, ghosting over your earlobe, teasing the soft flesh between them. Was it still a kiss, if his lips were now wrapped around a part of you, and sucking. Oh, Heavens. You bit back a noise, warmth pooling in your core as Vox’s tongue teased the circumference of your ear.

“Vox!” you squeaked, and he let you go, grinning.

“Try kissing my face next time. Or not, your choice.”

You went back to the movie, trying to tamp down the sinful thoughts that were spinning through your head. He didn’t deserve to be thought of lustfully like this. He was a really good guy- he was just trying to watch a movie with you and you were thinking lewd thoughts about him. You were an angel, for crying out loud: you were meant to be better than this!

His lips had felt so good, his tongue even better, a crackling spark that licked against your nerves. What would kissing his lips feel like? What would that tongue feel like, inside your mouth? Vox’s arm was back over your shoulders, his blue claws bright against the white of your blouse. You could touch his hand. Holding hands wasn’t sinful. People in Heaven held hands all the time. Hesitantly, you reached for his hand, your fingertips stroking from his wrist and over the back of his hand to his knuckles.

“You gonna kiss my hand next, babydoll?” asked Vox, his voice low and teasing.

“N-no,” you squeaked again, voice rising in pitch as your throat constricted.

Vox exhaled, glancing over at you, his thumb catching your exploring hand and stroking along your index finger. “Something the matter?”

Oh, all you could think about were the possibilities. Oh his lips on yours, his hand skating down over your shirt to encompass your breast. “I’m having sinful thoughts about you,” you confessed.

“Ohh?” Vox raised an eyebrow. “Lustful thoughts?”

Slowly, you nodded, shamefaced. “I’m really sorry. I know you’re just being a good host, and you don’t deserve me objectifying you…” you trailed off.

Vox just smiled. “I think I deserve to know exactly what lustful thoughts you were having, don’t you?”

“I was thinking about your fingers in my mouth,” you breathed out, though that was the least of your inner debauchery.

“Like this?” Vox asked, trailing blue talons up the side of your neck, over your jaw, and over your lips. You opened your mouth reflexively, and Vox slipped two fingers inside. Oh, fudge. Your eyes fluttered closed, a noise in your throat as Vox’s fingers explored, gentle as anything against the surface of your tongue, your cheek. “Were you thinking about them anywhere else?”

Face hot, you nodded, Vox’s fingers still inside your mouth, pulling at your lower lip slightly as he rocked his wrist back and forth.

“You gonna show me?” Vox asked, his voice still teasing, and with a shaking hand, you gestured to your own breasts, cupping them through the fabric of your blouse. The heat in your core was almost unbearable now, an embarrassing wetness pooling in the gusset of your panties.

“Get in my lap, babydoll,” said Vox, his voice soft as he withdrew his fingers from your mouth, a string of spittle trailing from your lower lip as he did. “I wanna do all the things you were fantasizing about me doing.”

Oh, you wanted this, you wanted this. So badly that it was a pulsing ache, an insistent drumbeat between your thighs. “Th-this is definitely sinful,” you said, hesitating.

Vox made no move to force you, sitting back a little on the couch. “Does it matter?” he asked, his tone going from sultry to playful again. “We’re both damned, after all.”

“R-right.” You swallowed, cursing yourself for your earlier lie. He waited, quiet, the movie playing forgotten on the big screen in front of you, until you moved the popcorn bucket to the floor and climbed onto his lap, your skirt bunching up around your knees as you straddled his legs.

“Well, heyy there beautiful,” growled Vox, looking at you, a finger pushing a strand of hair from your forehead, and you felt your face break into a smile. He crossed his legs, one over the other, so that his top thigh was flush with the gusset of your panties, smirking at you when his leg made contact. “Sitting comfortably?”

“Your leg… feels nice…” you managed, lamely, struggling for words. The pressure felt exquisite, the folds of your labia squashing together in a way that made you profoundly aware of the pulsing between your legs.

“Oh yeah?” Vox didn’t tease, and you were grateful. “You wanna stay like that? You maybe wanna rock back and forth a bit?” As if to demonstrate, he pushed his thigh up between your legs, against your gusset, and moved it side to side. You found yourself giving a soft whimper at the sensation. “It’s okay, baby,” said Vox, his voice soft and coaxing. “You can rub against me.”

You shouldn’t, you knew. You knew you should climb out of Vox’s lap, leave the feeling of his thigh between your legs behind, ignore the slick pooling in your panties. You should apologize for taking advantage of his generosity as a host, for even thinking about using his body in such a sordid way. You didn’t, though. Instead you canted your hips back, grinding your sex against the tensed muscle of his leg, finding warmth and friction and pleasure.

A shameful little whimper escaped your lips, and you felt Vox’s eyes on you, intent. “You don’t mind?”

Vox looked pleased with himself. “I invited you here, didn’t I?” He reached to your chest, tracing the lines you had traced when you had cupped your own breasts, the sensation of his claws through the fabric of your shirt leaving a tingling in its wake. You rocked your hips again, finding a slow rhythm, the sensations seeming to layer one atop the other, Vox’s talons moving up again, circling first one of your nipples and then the other, bringing each one to a sensitive point. “Do you wanna get them out for me?” he asked, voice low and gentle.

He withdrew his hands and your skin seemed to ache at the lack of him. “Will you touch them, if I do?” you asked, your voice small.

“If you ask me to,” said Vox, hands smoothing over the fabric of your skirt, over your thighs. “Otherwise if you want, I can enjoy the show. You want me to touch them, Ari?”

He used your name, not an epithet, his eyes on yours, and you felt the flush that bloomed on your cheeks, the flutter in your chest joining the pulse between your thighs as you continued to pleasure yourself on Vox’s thigh, each slow movement of your hips grinding the juices that soaked your panties into Vox’s slacks. Fingers trembling, you unbuttoned your blouse to your navel, then unhooked your bra, letting the straps fall from your shoulders, leaving your breasts exposed, nipples peeking over the lacy edge of your camisole. “Please,” you answered, feeling very exposed considering how little you were showing.

Vox pulled down the edge of your camisole with one talon, admiring his handiwork with a grin before his hands cupped your breasts, thumbs tracing soft circles around your namesake, your areolae. You made a noise in your throat, grinding hard against Vox’s thigh, and Vox gave an answering growl.

“Is that a good noise, babydoll?” Vox asked, gravel in his voice now. “You like having me squeeze your tits as you rub your pussy on my leg, huh?”

Shamefaced, you nodded, and Vox leaned in, a shift in his grip on your breasts pulling a moan from you. You froze, uncertain, as Vox lowered his wide rectangular head to your chest. As he had with your ear, he paused before his lips touched the skin, already tender and puckered from his fingers.

You whimpered, heat pooling in your core as you ground yourself wantonly against his leg, wet fabric against wet fabric, and Vox groaned, his breath hot over your breast. “Good girl,” he murmured, taking your nipple between his lips and sucking.

No amount of Heavenly chastity infomercials could have prepared you for how your next moments felt; Vox’s mouth first on one breast, then the other, the gentle tug of his teeth, the electrical lash of his tongue, all of that competing with the feel of him between your legs as you rode his thigh, your rhythm ascending from steady grind to desperate canter as sensation built and built. You found yourself pleading, losing rhythm as you jerked against Vox’s thigh, answering moans from Vox vibrating through your flesh as he suckled at you, your world narrowing to that scant handful of sensations. You cried out, feeling something inside you seize, and your eyes fluttered closed, your hips stilling.

“Vox,” you squeaked, uncertain.

“Heyy. Hey hey hey.” Vox lifted his face from your breasts, pulling your torso flush with his, his arms around you, his legs uncrossing. “I’ve got you.”

As before, his embrace was a comfort, and you found yourself pressing your body against his, your eyes squeezing shut. “There’s something inside me, it just twitched, it’s still-”

You felt Vox’s body tense against yours, and he tilted his screen to look at you, an error message flashing up that he hastily dismissed. “Sweetheart,” he said. “You, uh, you mean to tell me that you don’t know what an orgasm feels like?”

Your eyes snapped open, your core still throbbing. “That was an orgasm?”

“Well, uh, your heart rate spiked, and your pupils are dilated and your blood pressure is dropping now,” said Vox. “So yeah, seems likely.”

“I’ve never-” You sank against Vox, feeling weak.

“You’re making me feel like a real piece of shit, you know that?” Vox pressed his palm against your back, rubbing circles. “Your first orgasm and I didn’t even fuckin' kiss you first.”

“You could kiss me now,” you said, peering up at him, shy.

Vox gave a bark of laughter, a grin creeping back onto his face. “That a request, babydoll?”

His tongue in your mouth felt as good as you’d feared it might.

Click here to read the sequel

[thisisperverse]

Aand that's a wrap on our summer of 69 challenge ⛱️ Some cool facts about it:

20 fanworks

1 fanart

19 fics

20 authors/artists

4 WIPs so even more fun to come

thousands of km/miles traveled

including 4 trips to Marbella (i wonder why)

countless cocktails 🍹

so much love!

and coolest fact: 100k+ words written total! If you want to know what they were all about, check the fics and their summaries below.

Want to join the fun? Find us at discord.gg/royjamie.

Play Like A Tartt by hopefulromance, jackhowad (T)

Jamie is sick and tired of homophobia in football and decides he can do something about it

sunshine warm, moonlight soft by asphodellic (E)

If asked, Roy will insist it’s the heat that drives him back into the house and not the way the sunlight is sinking into Jamie’s stupid floppy hair and glistening off his sweat slicked muscles. He’s Roy fucking Kent, and he’s never run away from a hot person in his life. If he was in his prime, he would already have Jamie bent in half in his bed upstairs, one hand over his mouth while he takes him apart, and that would be that.

Are We There Yet? by ABubblingCandle (G)

Train strikes derail Jamie's summer plans so he has to find another way to travel the length of the country. Good thing he has a coach that loves him so much and will drop everything to drive him on a 4 hour each way round trip ... what do you mean Roy said no?

swelter/shake by farewllyouth (E)

Roy approaches with a glass in each hand, slips off his slides and lowers himself to the edge of the pool. His feet dangle in the cool water as Jamie takes his drink, fingertips brushing. They don’t speak, sipping their drinks under the canopy stretched over the pool. Jamie finishes first, because Roy gave him a straw and too much ice, and his patience is in shorter supply. The sound of the distant waves off the beach reach them even through the trees surrounding the property. Roy leans back on his hands and takes a deep breath, head tilted back so he can get a good lungful of humid, salty sea air. “So you getting in, or what?”

be my summer boyfriend by BestDeadFriendsForever (E)

It’d been nine days since Roy landed in Marbella and it was somewhere around eleven when he limped out of his bedroom for a glass of water, his mouth cottony and head aching slightly, to see Jamie fucking Tartt standing in the middle of the kitchen in an unbuttoned linen shirt and one of the tiniest pair of swim shorts that Roy had ever seen. He had on a pair of sunnies despite being inside- though the floor to ceiling windows that made up the entire back wall lessened the prickishness a little- and his hair was falling across his forehead in a soft wave. “The fuck’re you doing here?” Roy demanded, feeling awkward at only being in a pair of socks and his boxer-briefs.

Questionable Summer Fashion Choices by ABubblingCandle (G)

“What the fuck are you wearing?” Roy didn’t even know what to think about what he had just walked in on. He had existed in football changing rooms are all long as he could remember and so had stumbled upon everything you could ever think of stumbling upon in a changing room. But this complete and utter affront to his sensibilities was something brand new and a full different tier of stupid. “Oh, hey Roy,” Keeley chirped up from where she was reclined in the corner on her phone. “What the fuck is he wearing?” Roy turned to Keeley to try and get an answer through the giggles of the assembled greyhounds. They were only buckets of popcorn away from this being a real show. “Um it’s called a shirt Roy,” Jamie scoffed, rolling his eyes as he spun round.

A Camping Trip with Phoebe by garlic_salt_is_superior (G)

Roy and Jamie take Phoebe on a camping trip during the off-season

Will You Be My Plus One (Now and Forever?) by Rayvynheart (T)

Five plus weddings over the course of his barely 12 weeks off? He honestly didn’t even know he knew that many single people. This does present an issue, though. There’s no way Jamie Tartt can be seen at a wedding without a plus one. He’s got a reputation to maintain, after all. Not to mention that now that he’s barely drinking, trying to get through a whole wedding and reception without someone there to help distract him sounds like torture. How’s he supposed to find dates to every single one?   Hmmmm I wonder how Jamie Tartt is going to solve this dilemma???

Family Beach Day by luvsbitca (G)

“Papa,” Georgina said. “Why is Daddy in your phone as Grandad?” “We never should have taught you to read.” Gee giggled. “You’re so silly.” Just fun, simple, sweet family day at the beach fluff.

Good Night, Sleep Tight by maskedwolves (E)

“What’re you doing?” Jamie asks as he complies with Roy’s silent command and hoists himself up onto the quartz countertop. Roy takes in Jamie’s tired, naked form - eye lids only half open, shoulders slightly slumped, soft cock as sleepy as the rest of him –and wonders how this perfect human chose him to spend his life with. “Getting my tired husband washed up for bed.” “I can get myself ready,” Jamie says with a sleepy smile, amused at Roy taking care of him like this. “Yes, but you don’t have to.”

Like Sand At The Beach by luvsbitca (E)

Jamie took his chance, why not, why shouldn’t it be him, why couldn’t it be him. Why couldn’t he be the person Roy wanted? He caught the corner of Roy’s mouth; his lips dry against Roy’s. he pressed there for a just a moment or two but then pulled away, catching Roy’s eyes when they opened again. Jamie realised a beat later that Roy had closed his eyes…Jamie had kissed him, and the other man had closed his eyes, his heart started thumping. He licked at his bottom lip and then pressed forward and leaned in again, catching Roy’s bottom lip.   Jamie and Roy have sex in Marbella...that is all. They are in love too!

wonderstruck (blushing all the way home) by bizarrebedtimestories (E)

There's a small velvet box sitting on the table where his breakfast should be. Behind it, there's a man, familiar and very beautiful, smiling shyly at him. Roy doesn't have a clue what's going on. "Yes?" "This—" The man nudges the box forward with a few of his fingers. "—is for you." Roy pulls it towards him slowly, like someone preparing to diffuse a bomb. He hesitates, glancing up at the stranger once more before he tells himself to get over it, you fucking ninny! Roy opens the box. "Is this a fucking engagement ring?" Or the selkie!Jamie fic nobody asked for.

cruel summer (what doesn't kill me makes me want you more) by valdomarx (E)

Roy's knee is fucked, he's been dumped, and he's spending an awful lot of time on the couch. So he's doing great. It's just unfortunate that he can't turn on his TV without seeing Jamie fucking Tartt and his stupid reality show. And it's even more unfortunate that Jamie has his phone number. And for some reason, he keeps messaging him.

a body at rest by mixtapestar (E)

Roy shows Jamie how to relax on holiday.

only wanna be the one that i call baby by howdyrowdypartner (T)

“There’s a lot coming up,” Roy says, instead of all that. “With the manager position, and shit. I need some time to think about,” he gestures vaguely between them, “this.” Jamie nods, slowly, lips pursed together. “Alright,” he says again. Roy really hates that fucking word. “You ought to take a trip or something, Coach,” Jamie says, flopping back down onto the pillows, making no move to leave Roy’s bed despite the whole needing space thing. “Take a holiday before the season starts. Get your head on straight.” That - isn’t the worst idea Jamie’s ever had, really. --- Or, the seven days in which Roy loses his fucking mind, thanks to Jamie.

a carcass of a man, i belong inside his skin by NineWesternStars (M)

When he arrived, kicking up dust in his dark wine Aston, Jamie’s first thought was, this is what football’s greatest left for? He was decidedly unimpressed and told Roy as much, with one foot out of his luxury sports car and poised to drop into a forgotten pile of cowshit. Roy had given him a look of such loathing when Jamie used the bottom step of the farmhouse to scrape off his trainer. (Jamie is sent to Roy's farm for the summer, in hopes of becoming a better player.) ​

the only heaven i’ll be sent to is when i’m alone with you by nightcabret (T)

“Tartt! I know you’re in there and we’re going to be fucking late-” Roy cuts off right as Jamie swings open the door. He looks pissed, but Jamie watches as he takes him in, his eyes widening and mouth gaping in a way that would be downright comical if Jamie wasn’t currently channeling most of his focus into standing up straight. “Woah. You look like shit.” “That’s fucking rude.” Jamie scoffs, right as he loses the fight against keeping his balance and sways forward.

keep a place for me by soofyahn (E)

Jamie glances at his blood-stained hoodie and frowns. At least the last time he confessed his love, he was wearing a suit. Turns out how they're dressed doesn’t matter much, in the end. The two of 'em might as well be wearing shirts that say ‘I’m with stupid’. Five accidental dates, or: four times Jamie makes an effort to dress for the occasion, and one time he doesn’t put nearly enough thought into what he wears.

[bradshawsbaby]

Happy one year anniversary!!!!! 🎉🍾🎉🍾🎉

For the Top One celebration and with summer coming, can you please write something about Hannix and the kids going on vacation? It could be Disneyland, Hawaii, or wherever else. I just need some family vacation fluff. Thank you!!

Thank you so much! We love some Seresin family fluff! 🥰

“Mommy! Mommy! Look!” Liam exclaimed, barreling over to where Phoenix was reclining on a chaise lounger with eighteen-month-old Ellie snuggled up on her chest.

Lifting her sunglasses atop her head, Phoenix smiled as her five-year-old son pressed himself against her side, holding up a sticky hand to proudly show off the treasure he’s just discovered—three large seashells, all in varying shades of orange and pink.

“Wow, look at these!” she cooed softly, not wanting to wake Ellie, who had just fallen asleep about ten minutes ago. “They’re beautiful, baby! And all perfectly intact, too. You don’t see that too often on the beach,” she said, which made Liam’s eyes widen. “That’s some treasure.”

“They’re for you, Mommy,” he said sweetly, carefully placing them down on top of the cooler that was sitting beside Phoenix’s lounger. “And Ellie,” he added quickly, beaming at his baby sister.

“Thank you so much, Liam,” Phoenix smiled, reaching out with one arm to give him an affectionate squeeze. “I love them, and I know Ellie will, too, when she wakes up.”

“I’m gonna go play with Daddy and Ben and JJ now,” Liam announced suddenly, turning and hightailing it back to where the rest of the Seresin men were currently in the process of building a very elaborate sandcastle, complete with a moat and drawbridge.

Jake had taken pains to teach the boys the assembly line method all afternoon, which had resulted in some very fanciful sand creations. Liam took one bucket and went to fetch water—when he wasn’t hunting for seashells—while Ben filled the other buckets with sand and JJ and Jake hefted them to wherever they were most needed. Then all of them coordinated their efforts to plan out the design. Any admiral worth his salt would be impressed by their efficiency.

At the moment, JJ was putting the finishing touches on the castle’s tower, while Ben was attempting to fashion a flag out of seaweed and twigs. When Liam came running back over, he and Jake started to work on filling the moat with seawater.

“Look at our boys, Ellie,” Phoenix mused softly, even though she knew her small daughter, exhausted from a full day in the sun, was out like a light. “We are two lucky girls, that’s for sure,” she sighed contentedly, stretching out on the chaise lounger and adjusting the towel that she was currently using as a blanket to cover Ellie.

Phoenix and Jake had been debating for weeks where they wanted to take the kids on a family vacation before they finally settled on Florida. They briefly considered going to Disney World, but then decided it would probably be better to wait until Ellie was a little older. So instead, they’d asked one of Phoenix’s brothers if they could use his beach property in Tampa.

It ended up being the perfect plan. All week, the kids had loved running around on the beach, swimming in the pool, and eating more ice cream than their small bellies could contain. It was a joy to see them so happy.

With the week winding down, this would probably be one of their last days at the beach, and they wanted to make the most of it. They’d packed a picnic lunch in the cooler and planned to stay until the sun went down. If the pinks, purples, and oranges scattered across the sky were any indication, that would be happening pretty soon.

At that moment, Phoenix looked up to find her husband—sporting a golden tan and looking even more devilishly handsome than usual—grinning down at her.

“How may I help you, Bagman?” she asked teasingly, brushing Ellie’s dark hair with the tips of her fingers.

“The boys and I want you to come see our castle, Minx,” Jake replied, his grin growing wider as he reached down to lift a still sleeping Ellie into his arms. “I got her,” he said, shifting her in his hold so that her cheek was pressed against his shoulder.

Smiling as well, Phoenix swung her legs over the side of her lounger and rose to her feet, slipping her hand into Jake’s as he led her over to where JJ, Ben, and Liam were standing proudly around their creation.

“Surprise, Mommy!” Ben yelled, waving his hands in the air.

“Do you like it?” JJ asked eagerly, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Oh, I love it!” Phoenix told them all, her dark eyes widening in amazement at the work they’d done. It was even more impressive up close. “You boys did an amazing job!”

“It’s a castle, Mommy! And you’re the queen!” Liam beamed, another large seashell already tucked into his palm.

“Oh, am I?” Phoenix grinned, kneeling down to more carefully inspect her castle.

“Of course, Minx. The Seresin Castle would be nothing at all without its queen,” Jake told her, winking playfully when she turned her head to look up at him.

“Mm, and don’t you forget it,” Phoenix joked, rising and grabbing each of her boys to give them a big kiss. “I love you all so much,” she told them, ruffling their hair.

“Doesn’t the king get a kiss?” Jake smirked, puckering his lips.

JJ, Ben, and Liam all giggled as Phoenix rolled her eyes and hurried to give him a kiss as well.

“Mommy! Daddy! Look at the sky!” JJ pointed out, gazing out across the expanse of the water.

The sun was indeed setting, a dazzling array of the most stunning colors nature had to offer. Standing together beside their castle, the Seresins took in the sight in quiet awe, enjoying the moment together as a family.

“This has been a pretty damn perfect day, Minx,” Jake whispered in Phoenix’s ear, wrapping his free arm around her waist.

Phoenix smiled, twisting her neck to gaze up at him. “I couldn’t agree more, Bagman.”

From my “TOP ONE” Anniversary Celebration! (Requests are now closed)

[banqanas]

Me, before: man fanta has gotten better and dont forget anything anymore. What about the fans who joined the fanclub to get free members stuffs…!!!! (Read: me)

Fanta: we gotchu bestie

Fanta: for our 2000th day anniversary, we’re giving free stuffs for 2000 lucky fanclub members!!!!! we’re gonna give away random stuffs we have on hand, for example our old musha shugyo poster and other event stuffs

Fanta: AND members personal items like keito’s bucket hat, sekaketo tshirt from fanta’s 1st sns battle. There’s also taiki’s coat, sekai’s cap, and the tshirt yusei wore just now. Thats right!!!! Right after he wore it so it still have yusei’s scent

Fanta: there’s also the sheraton cup leiya stole got from his trip to hawaii

Fanta: you might also be lucky enough to get this big ass cushion with sawanatsu’s face on it. OR his very unique ice cream door stopper

Fanta: or will you be the lucky one to finish this porsche gunpla model that horinatsu gave up assembling some years ago (pictures of him giving up included)

HAPPY 2000TH DAY ANNIVERSARY FANTASTICS🌻❤️!

[69misato69]

Never Fade in the Dark (Diluc x Childe) ✦ fluff, smut, SO MUCH LOVE

archive of our own ✦ twitter ✦ masterlist

welcome to chiluc being trans and in love and horny for 2k words straight (not) no medical transition we put on boxers and leave the rest to god

cw: trans male characters, afab genitals, vaginal fingering, kissing, mentions of alcohol

writer's note: explicit +18 content, please view at your own risk. thank you, have fun !

“Tell your husband to stop calling, what is this, the 50s?” 

Kaveh rolls his eyes as he takes another shot. The phone vibrates on the table for the second time in the past hour as a picture of Diluc flashes on and off on the screen.

“My what?” Childe gasps.

“Diluc!” 

“He’s my boyfriend!”

Kaveh scoffs as he picks up another bottle from the ice-filled bucket on the table, “Eh, husband, boyfriend, what difference does it make? The old ball and chain.”

The phone falls silent.

“I like it when he calls.”

“Ugh, of course you do. You both make me sick.”

“Hehe, lighten up Kaveh.” Childe squeezes the blonde’s cheeks affectionately. Though Kaveh tries to stand his ground, he falters with the cute expression on his best friend’s face. 

“Courtesy of the gentleman over there.” 

A glass lands in front of Kaveh. 

He turns around to where the waitress points at, finding a gray-haired man sitting on a bar stool with a book in his hand. 

“Are you seeing this shit? Who the fuck reads a book at a bar? Who are you trying to impress?” 

“Well… You, apparently.”

Kaveh leans on his elbows, rubbing his temples in circular motions, “I honestly can’t stand men anymore.” 

“You never could.” 

“I guess that’s true.” Kaveh decides to take a sip of the expensive cocktail, “Not you though, you’re my baby.” 

The bitter liquor travels down to his stomach, washing away the cheap vodka that they had been consuming for the past hours. He hands the glass to Childe and feeds him the exquisite assembly of flavors, one that they couldn’t possibly afford anytime soon. 

Childe leans back and rubs his belly in exaggerated delight, “He’s gonna think we’re together.” 

“He can go to hell. How does my hair look?”

Childe chuckles, he adjusts the red clips that bind Kaveh’s hair and tries to convince him to go talk to the mysterious man reading at the bar. 

Though, when Kaveh finally agrees, Childe realizes why he hadn’t gone out drinking without Diluc for so long. 

Kaveh’s seat is occupied by people he doesn’t know for the rest of the night, offering drinks and more no matter how many times he rejects.

I’m taken, I’m not interested, no thank you.

He utters the same sentences over and over again to at least twenty people that vulture over the table until it’s time to leave. 

When he gets the chance he glances at Kaveh to give a thumbs up of encouragement. 

Kaveh is either rolling his eyes, frowning or arguing against the stoic figure all night, so he’s obviously enjoying himself. At least one of them is. 

The whole walk home Kaveh listens to him rant and tries to drag him back to yell at each and every single one of them. 

Childe laughs it off, aside from the last few hours of it, spending the entire day with Kaveh after a long time is something he cherishes. They take every step leaning on each other so they don’t fall over, until Kaveh drops him off at Diluc's door and hugs him good night. 

“And like… Isn’t it obvious that I’m not interested?” 

“I feel like it is.” Diluc dries his hair with the towel as Childe sits in his boxers. He doesn’t talk much aside from agreeing occasionally while Childe gets the frustration off his chest. 

When they finally settle on the bed with their backs against the headboard, Diluc raises his hand to gently cup his freckled cheeks. A rosy hue still lingers below the skin from the alcohol that still circulates in his veins. 

“Come on, it’s not worth it. We’ll go together next time, I’ll invite Kaeya too.” 

“I just wanna have a—” Childe rubs his aching eyes, “Fun night with my best friend and come home to my husband. Simple. Is that so fucking hard?”

Diluc’s heart drops, his fingers freeze on Childe’s face, no longer grazing against his cheeks. 

“Your what?”

“Hm?”

“You wanna come home to your what?” 

“My boyfriend?” 

Childe stares at him in utter confusion. 

“You said—” it feels dangerous to repeat it out loud, “Husband.”

Childe turns even redder, all the way up to his ears this time as he struggles to redeem himself, “I—uh—it’s just a thing we joked about with Kaveh… I’m still drunk.”

He really isn’t, at least, not anymore after the shower. Just a bit dazed, but it’s enough to make him blurt out the word he blushed over the entire night. 

Diluc’s hand travels down to his neck, leaving soothing touches along his shoulders. 

“Say it again.” he requests against Childe’s neck. 

“S—say what again?”

“What you just called me.” 

Diluc speaks in between the kisses he presses on Childe’s skin. Embarrassment floods his limbs, he turns even more flustered with every touch, every kiss and the warmth that surrounds him. 

“My… husband?” 

Childe makes him a love-struck fool. Diluc lets out a pleased hum as he turns a bit more toward the ginger. Childe scoots closer, allowing Diluc to press against him with one hand stroking his arm and the other holding him by the waist. 

Tender touches and loving kisses pet his burning skin. 

“Will we ever… be husbands, Diluc?” he asks breathily, dissolving under the hold he is in. 

“Yeah.” his voice is hoarse and lustful, “Of course.”

“Wedding and all?”

“Yes.” Diluc pulls away to gaze into his eyes, “And a honeymoon.”

Their foreheads touch, leaning on one another as their lips yearn to connect. 

“Where?” 

“Wherever you want.”

“No, it has to be something you want—too.” Childe stops a squeak before it escapes his throat as Diluc cups his breast, lightly teasing the nipple with his thumb. 

“All I want is here.” he coos. 

Childe giggles. 

“Oh, something funny?” 

“Not at all.” Childe has no choice but to press his lips against the redhead’s soft smile, “I missed you, firefly.” 

Diluc’s strokes become rougher as he licks into Childe’s mouth, caressing his breasts and rubbing his soft tummy. His palms roam the insides of Childe’s thighs while their tongues dance along. They exchange kisses and gentle bites, occasionally coming up for air. 

Childe cups his cheeks, getting more and more revved up as Diluc moves dangerously close to the wet spot over his boxers.

He slides it off with a swift move, fingers hovering over the already glistening slit. He slowly closes in, allowing Childe to adjust before making contact. 

And when he does, Childe realizes how sensitive he is to the touch. His eyes widen with a sharp hiss as Diluc helps him settle down with soft whispers and kisses. 

"Hah… Diluc…"

Childe feels it all, every drag along the ridges of his cunt, every single circle Diluc draws over his clit and how he plays with him so gently. Patient, generous and loving, leading Childe to coat his finger more and more as the minutes pass.

Childe is left breathless, biting down on his lip at the unmatched sensation. As if Diluc touches him under the skin, the slide of his fingers shoots lightning bolts over his body, traveling up to his mind to slowly corrupt it. 

He melts away.

Childe lacks the conviction to stay silent and stay in place. 

He lets out breathy moans, a token of his gratitude, a display of lust and a plea for more. 

He doesn't fight to stay quiet. Diluc should know. He should know how he drives Childe insane even with a few touches, how butterflies flutter their wings in Childe's stomach even when Diluc's thigh press between his legs. Childe would never deprive him of the sight, and the noises he knows Diluc to cherish deeply. 

He doesn't muffle the moans, he doesn't rush Diluc either. If his dear husband wants to play with him for hours, then all he'll do is spread his legs and cum for him, over and over again until he decides to stop.

Even if it was the opposite and Childe wasn't allowed to release to his heart's desire, he would still take it gracefully, even if Diluc would go to sleep after edging him for hours, which he would never do, but Childe wouldn't mind. 

But if that were to happen, he would spend the entire night grinding against the pillow next to Diluc and creaming his boxers until the morning. 

He would have to be as quiet as a mouse so Diluc doesn't wake up and see him wallowing in desperation. 

Childe's hand, moving inside his underwear as he tries to imagine that it's Diluc touching him. But it would be no use. 

He can't ever touch himself the way Diluc does. It gets him where he needs to be, but the fireworks that Diluc crackles within him are unrivaled. His presence can’t be fabricated or mimicked. 

Childe doesn't want anything more or less, he wants whatever it is that Diluc wants to give him. 

He moves in front to face him, standing on his knees as he spreads the redhead’s legs. His hand slips inside Diluc’s underwear, almost involuntarily, like a moth drawn to the flame. 

He places his other hand on the headboard to the side of Diluc’s head to steady himself as the other laps over his clit. 

Diluc falters momentarily, struggling to continue with the sudden intrusion. Only then, he realizes how wet he is, inner thighs sticky, drenched with desire. Childe seems as surprised as he is, he traces his fingers over Diluc’s lips, soon spreading them to slide in slowly. 

Childe is always more forward than he is, always eager to feel Diluc up, to dip inside the warmth so he can watch his one and only writhe and squirm. 

His head hangs right next to Diluc’s face as the redhead leans on his arm, eyes closed and hips trembling while he reciprocates Childe’s movements by pushing two fingers inside as well. 

Childe moans and grunts in his ear, sinking lower the more they work each other out. He rubs his cheek on Diluc’s.

“My husband.” he sighs, “Mine, forever.” 

Tears pool around Diluc’s eyes, he can’t help but whimper, aimlessly kissing at wherever he could get his lips on.

His husband. 

How it would be to have Childe finger him with a ring that had his name engraved on the inside, how he could lay his beautiful husband down every night and press him on the sheets, kissing at every corner of his soft, warm body. Lapping his tongue over Childe’s soaking wet cunt until the morning as it aches and yearns for Diluc’s touch. 

The way Childe would desperately cry out for his husband, moaning his name, screaming it at the walls while Diluc would run him dry lovingly. 

Though it already is, more or less their life currently, seeing it in a new perspective flips a switch in Diluc’s brain. It creates a different, more intimate sense of belonging in his mind. He truly wants to belong to Childe, and for Childe to belong to him, forever. His firefly. His Diluc only. 

His husband. 

His eyes, the windows of Diluc’s soul, his soul that has done nothing but wander around aimlessly until finding the safe haven that now stands before him. 

His eyes that are so delicate to Childe and so cruel and unforgiving at the face of anything else. They scour the land to find everything wrong, disgusting and filthy about it. His brows furrow, pupils emit hatred and dissatisfaction as words that sting drip off his lips. 

Until his ray of sunlight parts the murk. He paints over everything with warm, saffron radiance. 

Everytime it happens, Diluc realizes his sheer folly.

The disgrace of gravely mistaking his purpose for something else. 

Because, everything Diluc has, everything he owns and gives away is for Childe.

His heart to love Childe, his soul to be intertwined with his, his time to be spent with him, his fingers so he can please his beloved and his lips to fulfill the paramount duty to kiss him. 

To speak to him, to whisper in his ear how beautiful and enchanting he is. 

Diluc, who only has eyes to feast on the beauty Childe wears on the outside and gaze into the one he carries inside his pure, loving heart. 

Only then, he realizes how futile his hatred is. Because how can a world that bears Childe in it, possibly be ugly? 

Not when he blooms entrancing, dainty flowers in the backyard of Diluc’s mind, or when he gleams sunlight over his deprived body. 

How can something be ugly when it contains so much beauty within? 

He looks up at Childe, panting and moaning with fingers curling up inside Diluc.

He makes everything okay. 

It’s inevitable, because a shadow isn’t enough to dim the day, but even a thin fissure of moonlight can brighten up the darkness of the night.

And Diluc, will forever be grateful to whatever power that blessed him with an undying light. 

[alexhasalotofthoughts]

Discovered today in assembly that the year group that my tutor group shares assembly with are too young to know what the ice bucket challenge is.... feeling ancient.

[exclusivenyc]

                                COOKOUT ON CONEY

Happy Heat Wave, New York! Turn on your AC, go swimming, or just lay in front of a fan and a bowl of ice because you’re gonna want to beat the heat this week!

In an unanticipated turn of the season, June has rolled into NYC with a heat wave! Scorching temperatures of 90-98 F means you won’t want to leave the house without sunscreen, if you leave at all. Lucky for you, the city of New York has organized a week-long cookout in partnership with Nathan’s Famous Hotdogs so if you’re brave enough to get some sun, you’ll have a full beach party to go to!

IN CHARACTER INFORMATION

Timeline: 1st week of June Weather: Heat Wave (90-98 F)

NATHAN’S HOT DOGS: ‘Nuff said. Come get your hot dogs! They’re half off and grilled to perfection. Are you gonna eat that?

BRING YOUR OWN BARBEQUE: The cook-off is on! This is a friendly competition where participants can showcase their grilling skills. At noon every day of the cookout, there will be different stations for grilling various types of meat, vegetables, and other barbecue favorites.  Your judges are the citizens of New York, and everyone is probably cranky from the heat, so don’t disappoint!

GAMES, GAMES, GAMES: Set up a variety of outdoor games to keep everyone entertained. Some popular options include horseshoes, cornhole, ladder toss, badminton, or a friendly game of soccer or volleyball. These games promote friendly competition and provide opportunities for guests to interact and have fun.

DIY S’MORES STATION: A do-it-yourself s'mores station where beach goers can assemble their own delicious graham cracker treats. There’s a bonfire nearby in the sand to roast the marshmallows. Graham crackers, chocolate bars, and different types of marshmallows are provided for everyone to customize their s'mores to their liking.

MOVIES ON THE OCEAN: Drive-in movie theaters might have been a nostalgic thing of the past, but every night of the cookout there will be a projector up in the sand, where anyone who wants to can watch a movie from the comfort of their beach chair. Every night it’s something different, so be sure to wander around at 8pm to see what’s up next.

WATER BALLOONS AND SQUIRTGUN TAG:  It’s hot but that doesn’t mean you can’t have fun! There are buckets filled with water balloons scattered around the beach and boardwalk, and if you really want to beat the heat, join in on the game of Squirtgun Tag happening in the amusement park. Hide amongst the patrons, or behind the hot dog guy, but no matter what—don’t get sprayed or you’re out!

LIVE MUSIC & KARAOKE: Relax in the sand while listening to live music from a local, underground band (maybe you’ve heard of them before!) or join in on the other side of the beach to sing your heart out in karaoke!

OUT-OF-CHARACTER INFORMATION

Timeline: 6/2 - 6/13 Location: Tumblr Dashboard + Discord Category

This event is not mandatory.  Completely  optional! You can choose whether your muse wants to attend for just one day, a few or the entire week or not at all.

If your muse does attend the cookout, please tag your threads with enyc.event02 and make sure to drop all starters in the event category in the discord.

If you’d like to post what your muse will be wearing to the cookout, feel free to drop it in the “muse attire” channel.

Thank you all and have fun!!

[saintsofwarding]

SAINTS OF WARDING; HUNGRY DEMONS

Chapter 8: In Which Mommy and Daddy Come Out to Play

The barn doors burst open in a spray of dust and shattered wood. Heisenberg stared at what waited for him inside, a slow grin spreading over his face.

"Oh, yeah, baby," he said. "It's my lucky goddamn day."

The dilapidated barn was a treasure-trove of rusty machinery. A pickup truck sloughed into rusty fragments in a corner. A collection of old tools hung on the walls, and mechanic gear for the truck was shoved into buckets and crates. Tangles of barbed wire were strung in deadly loops across a far wall.

The crowning jewel of the whole glorious mess was the tractor. It stood in a shaft of light, crusted in ice, grease still glistening on axle and piston and underbelly. Heisenberg ran his hands over one enormous fender, caressed a headlamp, sent his awareness to tenderly enclose its engine.

"Shall I leave you two alone?" Teodora asked, her arms crossed.

"Mmm. Maybe should, here in a second." His power pulsed outward; tools rattled and clanged on the walls. He sensed the engine's intricacies, the cobwebs that choked it, the rust that broke its connections, its wiring fused together from years of disuse.

"Poor baby," he purred to the tractor. "What d'you say we go back to my workshop and I'll plug you in-?"

"Get to the point, Heisenberg," Teodora said. "Can you use it or not?"

"Of course I can use it. Metal is metal. Real question is- can you take what I'm about to do with it?"

A muscle fluttered in her jaw. "If it'll get us out of here," she said, "past that...thing...then yes. Yes, I can take it."

"Then stand back."

He stepped from under the barn doorway, Teodora warily edging to the treeline. Heisenberg took a deep breath, cracked his knuckles, then swept his arms to the sides. The power came almost before he called it, a deep thrum in his guts, a crackle in every sense. Electricity arced from his outstretched arms, finding metal, jumping from tractor to tool to scrap-heaps in corners, filling the air with its eerie, blue-white glow.

Heisenberg set his teeth and lifted his arms, muscles straining, an effort like bringing some great weight aloft. With a rumble, a blast of expelled force, the entire contents of the barn heaved into the air, drifting upward like some madcap reversal of watching objects sink in water. Teodora gasped, her hair lifting around her shoulders as static snapped from strand to strand.

Heat pulsed just behind Heisenberg's sternum, radiating outward to the electric organs that fueled his power. Yeah, that should get you going, you little bastard, he thought to his Cadou.

He brought his hands together, then, hard, apart. There was a sound like thunderclap, a boom that shook the trees and sent Teodora stumbling. The tractor shattered; each piece of it, each tiny component of its mechanism, separated from each other, raining to the ground with a sound like a grenade going off in a junkyard. This place was a junkyard, now, a miniaturized version of the scrap heap of war detritus that ringed his factory. Pure candy. Even sexier than the tractor in its fully-assembled state, if he was being honest with himself.

He lowered his hands. Pieces of smaller scrap hovered and orbited, drifting through midair in the remnants of his control. He pushed his glasses back up his nose, smirked at a wide-eyed Teodora, and sauntered into the junkyard, looking for a good place to start.

"...What now?" Teodora asked, her face flushed.

"Now?" He pulled a wrench from midair and spun it into his hand. "Now we get to work."

***

Their precious hours of daylight passed in a red haze. Without a forge, Heisenberg sank into the rhythm of his power, delving as deep as he dared into the structure of the metal, welding scrap to scrap at the very bones of its matter. He rarely spoke as he worked, just barked orders to Teodora, to Rose, who woke after some time and came to perch like some small strange silver bird on the half-assembled hulk of the rebuilt engine. The two girls were no engineers, but they were pairs of hands, bringing him tools and scrap, holding pieces together so he could join them with the screech of metal-against-metal.

The monstrosity grew, and grew, a great hunched animal birthed piece by piece in the shadow of the old barn. For Heisenberg, the rhythm of work was painful relief, another kind of lost consciousness, a descent back into the guts of his decades of toil. At least this anger was familiar; at least this mania he could trust.

He tried to keep thought away, juicing up the power of a battered old radio he unearthed in the scrap, expanding its signal until it picked up some scratchy radio station drifting by on the alpine breeze. Music yowled through the clearing, something industrial and sung in a language he didn't understand, though maybe what he was mistaking for part of the song was feedback from the rusty speaker grille.

Despite his efforts, memories intruded.

He kept thinking of Lady Dimitrescu. His so-called sister. Alcina. Alcina. He hated her name, hated the taste of it in his mouth, fine as porcelain. He hated the way she moved, like the world belonged to her. Like everyone she spoke to was another of her stolen girls, spirited away to her castle's halls, red and dark as the throat of some great, devouring creature.

Pretty child, she'd cooed, stroking young Donna's hair. You're certain you need this one, Mother Miranda? She would make a beautiful addition to my household...

How had she survived? How, when so much else lay dead and buried? Winters had shot her down, sure, but if Alcina was one good thing she was a survivor. Whatever Ethan thought he'd killed must have held some scrap of life, had regenerated, had resurrected herself. A creature of rage. Of grief. Waking with her life intact, thinking, for a pure moment, that maybe- maybe- her daughters had survived, too.

Heisenberg remembered the silence of the Beneviento house, the seconds after Claudia went still. The way he'd watched the little girl's face, the moment he realized he'd missed it. That moment when her life was gone. That moment when the light had left her eyes, and he was left holding nothing but an empty body.

Elbow-deep in an engine, Heisenberg's control slipped. Something crunched around his wrist and blood spurted.

"Agh! Fuck-" He ripped his arm out, teeth clenched at the sight of the gash in his palm. "Teodora, toss me a rag or something, I'm leaking."

She didn't answer. He peered round the engine and saw she'd fallen asleep, slumped against the great rusty fender of their growing creation. Little wonder. She must be just as exhausted as he was, and she didn't have the benefit of a Cadou keeping his blood pumping and adrenaline up. Heisenberg scrubbed his bloodied hand off on his trousers, but he must have cut it pretty damn good; it kept spraying all over the place.

"You need to be more careful."

He turned. Rose sat cross-legged on the snow at his elbow. He hadn't heard her approach. Silently she held out a torn strip of fabric.

"Thanks, kid." He wound it around his hand, stanching the efforts of his blood to evacuate his body. He flexed the hand. It ached, a brittle, familiar pain that had nothing to do with the cut. He'd need some WD-40 after this.

"You were thinking about her."

"Dimitrescu? Yeah, sure was. Kind of an elephant in the room." He chuckled. "Dragon. Whatever."

"No, not Lady Dimitrescu. Claudia. You think about her a lot. Deep in your dreams she's always there." She tugged at a strand of her hair. "Who is she?"

Heisenberg lowered his hand.

"She was..." he began. "Ah, kid, it doesn't fuckin' matter anymore. Scram and let me work."

Rose didn't go away. She stared at him with brows raised and head cocked, like some annoying little animal Heisenberg wished he could punt across the clearing.

Who was he kidding. Of course he didn't wish that.

It took him a long moment to find the right words.

"She was Donna Beneviento's little sister," he said. "My...niece, I guess. Miranda detected her affinity for the Cadou nearly since she was born. At first, her parents kept her well enough away, but once they were gone, and all she had was Donna...well. Donna was tougher than most gave her credit for, but she was still a kid, too. She went to Miranda eventually. Everyone did."

He pulled off his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose. "Same old story. Miranda gave Claudia the Cadou. Her gift. That sweet little girl, that potential for power...she was Miranda's perfect vessel for little lost Eva. Up until the Cadou rejected her. Now she's sleeping under a slab."

"You loved her," Rose said, simply.

Heisenberg jerked his head up, every part of him tense as a garrote. He drew breath to blow her off, but the retort didn't come. What the hell was the point. Rose would see through whatever excuse he made. She was inside his head, after all.

"Yeah, I guess I did," he muttered. "Dimitrescu made her daughters so she'd have something to love. But with Claudia and Donna, I thought- for a moment, I thought..."

He couldn't go on. What he felt was, perhaps, anger, but maybe that was all he had, the only emotion he'd experienced with a strength that could compare. A black pit, opening inside him. The Black God's caves. A despair so profound he thought it might drive him mad. For a while it had. For a while he'd let it, and reveled in it. Anything but this.

Rose's hand crept to his and held one of his fingers.

"You wanted a family," she said. Her voice was small.

Heisenberg nodded.

"You lost the one you had. It was stolen from you. The woman singing. The baby." She looked at her boot toes, scuffed and muddy. "You remember them, even if you don't want to."

"Do you remember your family?" Heisenberg said.

There it was. It felt like two lines, nearly intersecting for a long time, that had at last reached a point. The air chilled between him and Rose. In the lengthening shadows of afternoon, snow began to fall.

"I remember my dad," Rose said. "He kissed me right here." She touched her forehead. "He told me he loved me. He was cold. I remember my mom. She...changed. She sang to me about hungry things in the night."

Well, that was a can of worms best left on the back shelf. How long had little Rosemary known her real mother, and not Miranda's carnival-mask mockery of Mia Winters? The kid would need some serious therapy to untangle that one.

"Your dad's dead, Rose," Heisenberg told her. "He died so you could live."

"Does it always have to be that way?" Rose muttered. "I hate it. I hate this stupid place." She kicked the engine; black veins spread up her arms, wicking into the whites of her eyes and turning them the color of used motor oil. "I hate this, I hate him-"

"Kid. Kid!" He grabbed her by the arm before she could slam her fist into something and hurt herself. She stared up at him, shoulders heaving, black tears welling in her eyes. One broke down her cheek.

Heisenberg scrubbed it away with his thumb.

"I'm gonna get you out of here," he said, all in a rush. "I'm gonna help you. I'm not gonna die on you. Get it? Get that through your thick, freaky little skull?"

Her breathing slowed down to small hiccuping gasps. "He left me all alone," she whispered.

Heisenberg thought of Teodora, catatonic with shame and guilt. They way he'd destroyed himself after Claudia had died. Everyone was carrying around a corpse, hunched gravediggers shambling through the dark. He could be the mad-dog messiah Miranda had made him, could tell Rose she should be thankful Ethan hadn't left her in the megamycete, tell her she'd been made to be a weapon and nothing more. He could set his own hounds on her and let them tear her apart, turn her into the monster the world seemed dead-set on making her. He should. Burn it all down. Let nothing grow from the ashes.

What had mercy ever done for him?

Rose was a monster. And so was he. But the world needed monsters. Sometimes they were the teeth in the dark, and sometimes they led you through the darkness.

"He didn't sacrifice himself out of some sense of obligation," he told her. "He died for you because he loves you. Because he wanted to save you."

She looked up at him, sniffling.

"You're a way bigger freak than I am," she said, between sniffles.

Heisenberg snorted. "You need a fuckin' hug or something?"

"No."

"Good." He handed her a pair of pliers. "My hand's shot to shit, so you're gonna have to help me finish this."

"If you were more careful..."

"Spoilsport. Hold that- yeah, right there."

"What does that do?"

"Makes the sawblades spin. Better hurry, though." He cast a glance around the darkening forest. "Someone's gonna start getting hungry."

***

Teodora jolted awake as Heisenberg shook her shoulder, one hand springing to the knife in her boot.

"Cool your jets," he said. "It's me."

She blinked up at him. "What's going on?"

"This!" He stood back and spread his arms. "Ta-dah!"

In the middle of the snowy clearing, before the broken remains of the old barn, awaited the means of their salvation. It was a tank looked at through a kaleidoscope, the two huge tractor tires rearing above a caged cab reinforced with clusters of barbed wire, smaller tires providing support, so the whole thing had the appearance of a crouched, snarling beast. Massive fenders bristled with welded-on spikes of scrap, and twin headlamps gave off beams of buttery light through the thickening snowfall, illuminating the toothy plow that jutted from the front of the machine. Underneath the plow waited a nightmarish tangle of saw-blades, like nothing more than the business end of a combine harvester.

Heisenberg flicked his hand and the machine snarled to life, twin exhaust pipes coughing gouts of black smoke.

"I call it the Lycan-Grinder Mark One," Heisenberg announced. He strolled around it, giving various parts a smack. "We sit up here- barbed wire should prove tough stuff for their teeth to gnaw through. Nice big treads for the snow, down here. And this is the piece de resistance."

He made TV-presenter hands around the long harpoon mounted above the cab, protected by a half-circle of barbed wire and rusty grille. Two handles allowed control, and a swivel shaft gave the thing a three-sixty firing radius.

"Got three more refills on this baby," he said. "I'd love a nice machine gun to really give the bitches a tickle, but beggars can't be choosers."

"You made this?" Teodora followed Heisenberg around the Lycan-Grinder as he showed off its features. There was a note of admiration in her voice Heisenberg had never heard before.

"Sure did," he said. "I'm an engineer. It's kind of my thing. Back in the village, I was working on this project. Called it my metal army. When I got sick of the head honcho's shenanigans, I was gonna launch it on her. Overwhelm her long enough to get behind her and rip her head off."

"And did you?"

"Yes. And no."

"How so?"

He paused, glancing at Rose as she perched with legs swinging on the Lycan-Grinder's fender. "Long story. I'll tell you the whole thing later if we survive."

"We should if we can reach the ravine I told you about. It's too deep for the lycans to easily cross, and too much effort for them to follow if we ford it."

"Good. You got your shit done, right? Before you passed out on me?"

Teodora nodded. She turned, staring out into the trees, the shadows deep-blue and so dense with snow Heisenberg could no longer make out much past a few yards.

"I never thought I'd see this place again," Teodora said quietly. "Never thought...never thought I'd hear my mother's voice again, even in that form."

"That wasn't your mother." Heisenberg pushed away from the Lycan-Grinder and joined her. "That thing isn't your parents anymore. You know that, right?"

"I know." She did. She faced him, and this time the fire in her eyes made his heart lurch. "That monster murdered my parents. And by all the saints of heaven and earth and abyss, I'm gonna see it torn apart. Tonight."

Heisenberg threw back his head and laughed for way too long. "That's the spirit!"

That made her smile a little. "You are totally getting off on this, you sicko."

"Hey, I take what I can get, sweetheart."

A howl lit the night, a single lonely voice quickly joined in chorus by a second howl, then a third.

They were coming.

"And that's our cue," Heisenberg added. "Now. You and Rose get in the Lycan-Grinder."

"What about you?"

"Don't you worry about me. I'm gonna go light this place up."

Teodora gave a short nod, then hurried to the 'Grinder and swung up the rungs welded onto its side, settling herself in the creaky old tractor seat inside its cab. The sound of the engines keyed up as she took the controls, and with the squeal of metal and an animalistic rumble, she swung the machine upslope.

"Be careful," Rose called from beside Teodora in the cab, her voice nearly drowned out by the engines.

"Spoilsport!" Heisenberg yelled back.

He was already running.

The woods shook and shivered, furtive movement flickering in the limits of Heisenberg's vision. The first of the lycans, the scouting-party. Beyond the treeline stretched the first of the ditches- a series of long trenches dug, courtesy of Teodora, into the frozen soil. They were connected with shallow furrows and filled with as much gasoline as Heisenberg could spare from the Lycan-Grinder. Green glimmered- lycan eyes. From the sound of their snarls, they'd had enough of holding back.

Perfect timing.

Heisenberg struck a match and flicked it into the ditch. The sound was a shrieking detonation, a muffled shoom as the gasoline caught fire. It roared toward the sky, a wave of yellow-white flames so hot Heisenberg jerked back before they seared his nose right off. Liquid fire snaked and raced between the ditches, and with matching firebursts they caught, too, one after the next, the entire clearing soon encircled by a ring of crackling flames.

It illuminated the lycans. More than a scouting-party. The forest seethed with them. Waves of lycans, perching on rock shelves, hanging onto trees, pacing and swiping at the flames. Where was their alpha? There was no sign of the big one, no tell-tale twin-throated bellow.

Not yet, anyway.

Heisenberg lit a cigar off the gasoline flames, then backed away, unable to suppress a grin. Fire. Blood. Machines. Impending violence. What was this, his birthday?

He whirled, coat flying, and raced back toward the sound of the engines. Already Teodora had kicked it into high gear; Heisenberg thrust out both his hands, caught metal, and slingshotted himself toward the retreating Lycan-Grinder. His boots slammed into a fender; Teodora screamed, grabbing for her revolver.

"Still me!" Heisenberg said, giving her a wave before he swung into the gunner's post. Trees flashed by, the ground churned under the Lycan-Grinder's front prow. It left a swathe of destruction in their wake.

Heisenberg slammed his fist into a switch and a floodlamp burst to life, swiveling to illuminate their tail.

Behind them:

A tide of lycans, heedless of the flames that were meant to ward them off, tearing through the forest after them.

A hand clenched at Heisenberg's sleeve. "I can help," Rose called. "Let me at them."

"No, kid! I know you're hot stuff, but I don't want you aging out before we can get more medicine!" He swiveled the harpoon back and forth, but there was no good target to aim for- just more lycans, a thickening horde lit from behind by gasoline flames like the armies of hell.

"I'm strong enough. I know I am. I'll be fine." "Shut the fuck up and get back in the-" Heisenberg began.

The roar cut over his words, echoing from everywhere, directionless and overwhelming. Ah. That was the big one.

"Keep it steady," he yelled to Teodora. The floodlamp swept the sea of lycans as he swung back and forth, searching for the first sign of thrashing tentacles or four sets of eyes. "How far are we from the ravine?"

"Not far- another minute, maybe a more-"

Impact thudded the snow, deeper even than the rumble of the Lycan-Grinder's engines. A five-count impact; great, lolling footsteps. Where the fuck was it? Heisenberg couldn't focus in this chaos. The 'Grinder juddered as a lycan made a wild leap for the cab, bounced off, and was flung straight under the plow. There was a sound like breaking celery as it vanished in a plume of ground-up viscera. Blood splattered Heisenberg's glasses; with a yell of frustration he snatched them off-

Ah.

Fuck.

It lunged from the trees, both sets of jaws agape. Huge cuspids flashed the color of bleached bone in the floodlight; one massive claw was already on the downswing. It sheared past, screeching off the gunner's cage. A miss, but with a shake of its shoulders it was after them, nearly keeping pace with the Lycan-Grinder. A mass of the smaller lycans snapped and snarled around its feet, whipped into a frenzy by their alpha.

It sprang, the jaws of its dominant head agape. Heisenberg aimed and pulled the trigger. With a scream of wind, the harpoon launched toward the back of the monster's throat. Its point burst from the monster's skull, sending fragments of brain and bone flying. The huge lycan reared back, howling, thrashing, clawing gashes in its own face in an effort to get the harpoon out.

It didn't stop coming at them.

"Shit!" Heisenberg spat out a mouthful of lycan blood. "This bitch can take a hit!" "Hang on!" Teodora yelled back. "There's the ravine!"

Heisenberg hazarded a look. The treeline had thinned, and ahead, past an expanse of clean snow, was nothing but darkness. Maybe the trace of a distant mountainside. An abyss between them. "You'd better be right about this."

"Won't matter if I'm not," she fired back. "We'll all be dead anyway."

Heisenberg's next words never came.

The world exploded. That was what it felt like, anyway; the impact slammed him to the teeth, jolted through his bones, lifted him off his feet. He realized all too late what had happened. The big lycan had crashed shoulder-first into the side of the 'Grinder, lifting it from half its wheels, catapulting him out of the gunner's post like a flicked bug.

A child's scream reached him through the chaos.

Rose.

He hit snow and tumbled to a bone-grinding heap. Vision swimming, he lifted his head. Rose stood before him, between him and the lycan horde. Her white-blonde hair lashed around her shoulders, as if caught in some unearthly wind; she seemed to glow, her arms lifted. There was a ripple through the ground-

The snow erupted into a sea of thrashing mold. Vast tentacles soared toward the sky, twisting together into a cage-like mass that arced over her and Heisenberg, keeping the lycans at bay.

"Rose!" Heisenberg bellowed.

"Don't you tell me to run," Rose yelled back at him.

"I wasn't! I was gonna say fuck 'em up!"

She grinned at him with heartwarming ferocity and thrust both hands forward. The mold-tentacles cascaded over the first line of lycans, consuming them whole, leaving nothing behind but crackling heaps of crystal. More lycans surged ahead to replace them; Rose swung around, bringing her arm slashing down; a huge mold tentacle slammed into the monsters and scattered them like toys.

Five-count footfalls.

The reek of blood and mold.

A gibbering, shrieking laugh, or maybe a sob, a mother's death-cry preserved like some grotesque recording.

"Rose!" Heisenberg yelled in warning. Too slow. He was on his feet and back-to-back with the kid as the big lycan tore its way through the trees. It ripped Rose's cage apart; the girl screamed in pain, clutching both hands to her chest as she crumpled.

The harpoon was still stuck through the monster's neck. Cadou tentacles writhed from the wound, a pulpy, tumorous mass of flesh already growing around the weapon's shaft. The monster paced forward, eyes fixed on Heisenberg, filled with fury and agony.

"Hey mommy," Heisenberg said. He lifted his hands; the harpoon began to hum and vibrate. "Hey, daddy."

He wrenched his hands backward. The harpoon tore free and smacked into his hands, a long, hook-headed spear of metal. He leveled it at the monster, the circle of smaller lycans closing in, the thing that had once been Teodora's parents rumbling a growl-

Wait. That wasn't a growl.

That was-

Engines rumbled.

Headlights blazed.

The Lycan-Grinder hit the monster with the speed and force of a freight train. Cataclysm. Glory. The thing exploded, the 'Grinder's sawblades pulling it in and under with a wet, screeching whine like the mother of all blenders. Heisenberg whirled and scooped up Rose, getting the hell out of the way before the Lycan-Grinder slammed back to earth.

"In!" Teodora yelled, somewhere in the clouds of smoke and blood and steam.

Rose under his arm, Heisenberg vaulted into the cab. Teodora slammed the 'Grinder into gear and they were off. The lycan horde tore after them, but all Heisenberg could focus on was Rose. She slumped against him, her hair falling over her face, her skin covered in dark, ropy veins.

"Kid." Heisenberg shook her. "Kid."

She didn't respond.

"Here it comes," Teodora called.

He looked up as they broke through the treeline, headed straight for the edge of the ravine. A vast axe split in the mountainside. Heisenberg pushed past Teodora, grabbing a red-painted handle under the main steering mechanism.

"Get ready," he growled, and as the Lycan-Grinder's front tires left solid ground, he pulled the handle.

For an instant-

Silence.

Then came a splitting, a detonation. Crackling blue flames forty feet long shot from the 'Grinder's exhaust pipes. Heisenberg slammed back against the cab, the back of his skull cracking against metal. Teodora was screaming; Heisenberg began to laugh, wild and deranged, as the Lycan-Grinder rocketed through midair like a ballistic missile.

The ravine yawned below, a bottomless void. The blue flames cut off, jetted once, then cut off again. Their momentum didn't slow. They sailed over the far edge and hit snow with a jarring crash. A tire wrenched from the 'Grinder's side and went bouncing off; a tree smashed the engine cover, a glancing blow that left it dangling by a few bolts. The 'Grinder ploughed and spun in huge circles, coming at last to a shuddering halt.

It went up on one of its remaining tires, like it might turn over. It hung there for a few seconds, then settled back to earth.

A pause, a ticking silence-

Then a cap popped off the engine, a spray of oil arcing from its guts.

Heisenberg blinked. Still alive? Spine intact? Yup. He kicked his way free from the wreckage, casting a glance at the far side of the ravine, where the lycan army howled and jostled, scattering snow off the cliffside.

They didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered but Rose.

Heisenberg pulled off his coat and lay Rose on top of it, keeping her off the snow. Her eyes were shut, her hands clasped over her chest.

"No," Heisenberg muttered. He touched her hand, her cheek, cleared her hair from her mouth. "No, no, kid, you survived all that and you're gonna give up now?"

"Oh- saints-" Teodora had freed herself from the dying machine and stood a few paces off, her hands pressed to her mouth.

"Dad," Rose whispered. "Help me."

She was graying as Heisenberg watched, dark veins spreading, leaching the color from her skin. She wasn't talking to him, he knew. But hell if he wasn't gonna answer.

He scooped her into his arms, coat and all. "How far away are these ruins of yours?"

Teodora pointed. Broken walls glowed in the faint starlight, built atop a mountain crag a few hundred yards up. "An hour's hike, maybe-"

"We'll make it in half that." He pushed past her, headed upslope. "Better keep up."

[acreepywholockian]

used to get them and don't (unless I have a problem with getting my T which Ive had for the last WHILE now). less than a month ago I thought I was fine until I ate some spicy food and my stomach hurts so bad and I was so nauseous AND in discomfort from the period that I almost threw up in public and had to sleep almost all day after having that lunch (which was a family event)

less recently, I was in so much pain and had asked a teacher to not go to an assembly but she said no so I just walked to the "nurse" myself (we only had a nurse on Tuesdays, and it was Thursday, so what sufficed was a Lay-Down room, two Advils when I usually took four, and a bucket in case I threw up). I was in there crying when my friend came in by coincidence and turned on the light which hurts a lot and they saw me crying. I was reprimanded for not telling a teacher (I did, they just wouldn't listen) and being out of uniform (I undid the zipper on my skirt and tried to hide it but it hurt so bad I just had to hold my stomach and imagine I was scooping out my uterus with an ice cream scooper to cope).

And then I went on birth control and it got way better, and later I got on Testosterone and that helped even more since I didn't have to get a period at all, but now the American "healthcare system" is fucking that up all the time so they can't even get that right

if you used to get periods but don't anymore please answer for when you did!

[hnkparts]

LG ACZ74170504 Refrigerator Dispenser Ice Bucket Assembly | HnKParts

The LG ACZ74170504 refrigerator ice dispenser assembly is a vital component for your refrigerator's ice-making functionality. Crafted with precision and durability, this assembly ensures smooth ice dispensing for your convenience. Engineered to fit seamlessly into compatible LG refrigerator models, it guarantees reliable performance and longevity. With its user-friendly design, replacing or installing this assembly is hassle-free, allowing you to enjoy crisp, refreshing ice whenever you need it.

[homeandkitchenparts]

General Electric WR17X23191 Refrigerator Bucket & Auger Assembly | HnKParts

Manufacturer Name: GENERAL ELECTRIC Product Number: WR17X23191 OEM Part Number: WR17X23191 Product Description: The WR17X23191 Refrigerator Bucket & Auger Assembly, which HnKParts offers, will enhance your General Electric refrigerator. This system, which includes the ice bucket, drill, and related parts, guarantees flawless ice dispensing. With this replacement part, you can work your refrigerator again and enjoy cool ice whenever needed. Rely on HnKParts for high-quality parts that will maintain the optimal operation of your appliance.

Buy Now WR17X23191 General Electric Bucket & Auger Assembly Refrigerator SKU: WR17X23191 Manufacturer: GENERAL ELECTRIC Appliance: Refrigerator

[appliances-09]

LG AKC73369908 Refrigerator Ice Bucket Assembly HnKParts

Manufacturer Name: LGEProduct Number: AKC73369908OEM Part Number: AKC73369908Product Description: Bucket Assy-IceOrder LG AKC73369908 Refrigerator Ice Bucket Assembly today! Shop home & kitchen appliance parts at HnK Parts with same-day shipping, available at the best prices.

[hnkparts-030]

LG ACZ74170502 Refrigerator Dispenser Ice Bucket Assembly HnK Parts

The LG ACZ74170502 LG Refrigerator Ice Dispenser Assembly is an essential component that improves the performance of your LG refrigerator. The ACZ74170502 is designed to connect smoothly with compatible LG refrigerator models, ensuring a dependable and smooth ice-pouring experience

[sqinsights]

Keep Your Cool: A Refreshing Look at the Antifreeze Coolant Market

Hey there, fellow readers! Ever wondered what keeps your car engine from turning into a fiery furnace or freezing solid like a popsicle? Well, wonder no more! Let’s dive into the cool world of antifreeze coolant and explore what makes this market sizzle (or rather, chill) with excitement.

Chilling Numbers:

So, you think antifreeze coolant is just a drop in the automotive bucket? Think again! This market is no small fry, with a whopping value of USD 225.06 billion in 2022. And guess what? It’s projected to reach a cool USD 8.69 billion by 2030, cruising along at a smooth 7% CAGR. Talk about keeping it frosty!

The Big Players:

Who’s running the show in this icy domain? Brace yourselves, because we’ve got heavyweights like Prestone Products Corporation, Chevron Corporation, Royal Dutch Shell plc, Total S.A., and Exxon Mobil Corporation leading the pack. These folks aren’t just chilling; they’re dominating the market with their frosty finesse and cool innovations.

Product Showdown: Ethylene vs. Propylene:

It’s the battle of the coolants: ethylene glycol vs. propylene glycol. Ethylene glycol is the OG, reigning supreme with its exceptional heat transfer capabilities and wide application across automotive, aerospace, and industrial sectors. On the other hand, propylene glycol is the eco-friendly contender, stealing hearts with its non-toxic nature and biodegradable properties. It’s like choosing between Batman and Superman — both heroes, but with different cool factors.

Tech Talk:

Let’s talk tech, baby! From traditional ethylene glycol-based coolants to environmentally friendly propylene glycol alternatives, the market is buzzing with innovation. Organic acid technology (OAT) coolants are having their moment in the spotlight, boasting extended service life and compatibility with various metals. And let’s not forget about the rise of nanotechnology-infused coolants, bringing a whole new level of frosty efficiency to the table. It’s like the Avengers assembling to save the day, but with coolant technology instead of superheroes.

For More Information: https://www.skyquestt.com/report/antifreeze-coolant-market

Regional Rundown:

From the frosty tundras of North America to the sunny shores of Asia Pacific, the antifreeze coolant market is making waves across the globe. North America holds its own with a well-established automotive industry, while Asia Pacific is heating up with its expanding automotive sector and rising disposable income. It’s a global cool-down, with each region adding its own flavor to the mix.

Market Dynamics:

What’s driving this chill ride? Look no further than the booming automotive industry, stringent environmental regulations, and the ever-growing demand for eco-friendly solutions. But it’s not all smooth sailing — volatility in raw material prices and geopolitical tensions can throw a wrench in the works. Nevertheless, with innovation as its engine and sustainability as its fuel, the antifreeze coolant market is revving up for a frosty future.

Conclusion:

So, there you have it, folks — a frosty glimpse into the world of antifreeze coolant. From ethylene glycol to propylene glycol, from traditional coolants to cutting-edge technologies, this market is as cool as ice (pun intended). So, the next time you hit the road or fire up your industrial machinery, remember the unsung hero keeping things cool behind the scenes. Stay frosty, my friends!

About Us-

SkyQuest Technology Group is a Global Market Intelligence, Innovation Management & Commercialization organization that connects innovation to new markets, networks & collaborators for achieving Sustainable Development Goals.

Contact Us-

SkyQuest Technology Consulting Pvt. Ltd.

1 Apache Way,

Westford,

Massachusetts 01886

USA (+1) 617–230–0741

Email- info@skyquestt.com

Website: https://www.skyquestt.com