#Ultra Punch-Out!!

[ohshy]

CRAZY DISCOVERY MADE !!!!!! KISS YOUR MANS BELLY AT 3 AM !!!!!!! YOU WONT BELIEVE WHAT HAPPENS NEXT 😱😱😱

[pepperingsteaks]

it is almost 4am but uh oughvsd tmagp episode 31 (head in hands)

here's how

here's how colin becher can still win-

[theno1joelhater]

in episode 30 bulbasaur gets blessed by arkoos….and then he spends the majority of season 4 complaining he doesn’t have a mega……and then he gets a mega in episode 40……..hmmm

[coern]

every time I open my blog I see the title and I am hit with a nauseatingly intense wave of "I miss them"

[milimeters-morales]

Miles quietly repeating everything Miguel says when Miguel is muttering to himself while he’s working on something, and Miguel says “sorry did you say something” and Miles tells him no (Miguel knows he’s lying but is letting Miles have his fun) and this repeats 2-3 more times until Miguel gets fed up and locks him inside of the Ultra Death Chamber for a bit and bans him from his workstation (again)

[dravidious]

Just spent like 18 minutes and 30 attempts dying to V2 before realizing that I can parry its tiny little shotgun pellets that are telegraphed an hour in advance to block the damage, fully heal, AND reflect it to V2 and make it explode

[felixandresims]

Hello everyone! 🙂

Let's get physical, physical ....

As you may have seen in my work-in-progress post, this Estate release is all about fitness and wellness. I never expected to create a gym set, but after discovering the ultra-stylish brand PENT Luxury, I couldn’t resist using it as inspiration.

I focused on the functional fitness items already available in The Sims and designed my pieces around them. To complement the set, I also added a steam sauna and a Roman bath, which pair beautifully with last month’s marble items. 🙂 Items included:

Roman Bath - requires Snowy Escape

Steam Sauna - requires Spa Day

Multitrainer

Treadmill

Punch bag

Yoga Mat - requires Spa Day

Balance trainer - requires Spa Day

Fitness Wall

Gym Equipment

Kettlebell Stand

Gym Clutter

This pack includes a few items that are pack-dependent, but I really wanted to incorporate more functional pieces this time. Also, don’t be surprised by the prices—these items are meant to be luxurious, just like their real-life counterparts! 😄

This Set is on Early Access, and you will find it here

And now... let's get physical, physical! Let your Sims get physicaaaaal! 😄

Again, thank you so much for your support! Happy Simming—I can’t wait to see your gyms, especially with Business & Hobbies out now! 😊

Lots of love, Felix xxx

[nasa]

Athletes Go for the Gold with NASA Spinoffs

NASA technology tends to find its way into the sporting world more often than you’d expect. Fitness is important to the space program because astronauts must undergo the extreme g-forces of getting into space and endure the long-term effects of weightlessness on the human body. The agency’s engineering expertise also means that items like shoes and swimsuits can be improved with NASA know-how.

As the 2024 Olympics are in full swing in Paris, here are some of the many NASA-derived technologies that have helped competitive athletes train for the games and made sure they’re properly equipped to win.

The LZR Racer reduces skin friction drag by covering more skin than traditional swimsuits. Multiple pieces of the water-resistant and extremely lightweight LZR Pulse fabric connect at ultrasonically welded seams and incorporate extremely low-profile zippers to keep viscous drag to a minimum.

Swimsuits That Don’t Drag

When the swimsuit manufacturer Speedo wanted its LZR Racer suit to have as little drag as possible, the company turned to the experts at Langley Research Center to test its materials and design. The end result was that the new suit reduced drag by 24 percent compared to the prior generation of Speedo racing suit and broke 13 world records in 2008. While the original LZR Racer is no longer used in competition due to the advantage it gave wearers, its legacy lives on in derivatives still produced to this day.

Trilion Quality Systems worked with NASA’s Glenn Research Center to adapt existing stereo photogrammetry software to work with high-speed cameras. Now the company sells the package widely, and it is used to analyze stress and strain in everything from knee implants to running shoes and more.

High-Speed Cameras for High-Speed Shoes

After space shuttle Columbia, investigators needed to see how materials reacted during recreation tests with high-speed cameras, which involved working with industry to create a system that could analyze footage filmed at 30,000 frames per second. Engineers at Adidas used this system to analyze the behavior of Olympic marathoners' feet as they hit the ground and adjusted the design of the company’s high-performance footwear based on these observations.

Martial artist Barry French holds an Impax Body Shield while former European middle-weight kickboxing champion Daryl Tyler delivers an explosive jump side kick; the force of the impact is registered precisely and shown on the display panel of the electronic box French is wearing on his belt.

One-Thousandth-of-an-Inch Punch

In the 1980s, Olympic martial artists needed a way to measure the impact of their strikes to improve training for competition. Impulse Technology reached out to Glenn Research Center to create the Impax sensor, an ultra-thin film sensor which creates a small amount of voltage when struck. The more force applied, the more voltage it generates, enabling a computerized display to show how powerful a punch or kick was.

Astronaut Sunita Williams poses while using the Interim Resistive Exercise Device on the ISS. The cylinders at the base of each side house the SpiraFlex FlexPacks that inventor Paul Francis honed under NASA contracts. They would go on to power the Bowflex Revolution and other commercial exercise equipment.

Weight Training Without the Weight

Astronauts spending long periods of time in space needed a way to maintain muscle mass without the effect of gravity, but lifting free weights doesn’t work when you’re practically weightless. An exercise machine that uses elastic resistance to provide the same benefits as weightlifting went to the space station in the year 2000. That resistance technology was commercialized into the Bowflex Revolution home exercise equipment shortly afterwards.

Want to learn more about technologies made for space and used on Earth? Check out NASA Spinoff to find products and services that wouldn’t exist without space exploration.   

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[sobbingscripter]

Tags: [mlw][mdni][enemies to lovers][msub][femdom][humiliation][degrading][praise][sex with the door open][backdoor handjob][cowgirl][choking][not the kind you're thinking][whiny man][ruined orgasms][edging][gooch teasing][drooling]

You don't know why he's the most aggravating person you've ever come across. You barely even understand why he makes your skin crawl whenever he gives you that charming grin that has the corners of his eyes creasing in that boyish way that it does.

But God, do you wanna punch Wally in the throat.

You're pretty sure that it's because Wally wouldn't know a boundary if it looked him in his bare eye sockets. Frequently tossing his laundry in with yours, randomly rifling through your shit as he tries to find one of those strawberry sheet face masks that you stock up on and it's not farfetched to say that you could contemplate murder when Wally brushes past you, wearing the last ultra-rejuvenating mask with snail slime.

The mask itself is icky but the results is so not icky.

So you have to sit across from Wally at the briefing table while his skin glistens like that of a newborn baby's, invisible pores and glass skin. His hair frames his face so prettily, his T-shirt stretched tautly over his chest and he reclines in his seat, and you watch the fabric stretch even tighter.

It would be sexy.

If it wasn't one of your baggy and worn sleeping tops.

The bear on the front is a dead giveaway, the peeling image stares at you with pity as your hands clutch at the edge of the table. And you clear your throat.

"Wallace." You say his name with venom, your lips pursed so tightly because you know that with one wrong breath taken, you'll spring across this table and Wally just might not be fast enough.

"Yeah cutie?"

The nickname only makes you angrier. The way the words roll off his tongue. That exact same tongue that peeks out between his incisors when he smiles after pissing you off, the way his lips curl and furl with each syllable.

Looking at Wally is making you wanna choke him with his own chain.

"Why are you wearing my shirt?"

The others have already started to dissipate, filing out of the briefing room with wary glances towards the scene behind them because they know that there's no way Wally will speak that won't make you even madder.

"All my shirts are in the wash." He hums, rolling his broad shoulders as he relaxes even further in his seat, emerald eyes sparkling as he regards you.

"You know, you should really do your laundry. We're both running out of clothes."

And that's exactly what has you lunging across the table, scrambling like a cat scrambles towards prey and your manicured hands find purchase around his muscular neck, fingers pressing against his windpipe and you shake him violently.

"What—. Is—. Your—. Problem—. You. Cock. Sucking. Assh—..."

You're cut off when you see the way Wally looks up at you.

Like a fucking golden retriever waiting for a treat.

Staring up at you through his lashes, his glass skin even more aggravating up close because goddammit, that's supposed to be YOUR glass skin.

Muscular hands find your hips, thumbs brushing at the protruding bone through the fabric and you feel his throat bob beneath your palms.

And your heartbeat damn near goes erratic when Wally rocks his seat back, resting it on two legs and you slide further down his muscular thighs, finding purchase atop his rock hard and... Tangibly pulsing cock.

"Keep choking me, I'm almost there." He breathes out, face flushing with the lack of oxygen to his brain and you nearly screech, pulling your hands back and eagerly moving off Wally's lap.

"You're a sick, sick man, West!" You hiss, from the doorway because you needed to maximise the distance between you two, and fast. You point at him with an accusing finger, before storming off to your room, slamming the door shut behind you.

If Wally wants to play games, you'll play them right back at him.

It starts small.

You're walking around wearing T-shirts that could be mistaken for yours, but he knows.

Wally knows.

That stain at the edge of the shirt would never last so long if it was yours, you'd have either cropped the shirt or even bleached it. But you're wearing it.

You're wearing him.

And God, he just wants to wear you.

"You've gotta be fucking with me." Wally groans, eyes narrowed with the faintest hint of annoyance as he watches you trot into the shared kitchen, his T-shirt tucked into the front of band of your bra because the air conditioning is out and it's admittedly almost as hot as Jason Todd manspreading while reading a book.

But that's not what bothers him.

It's the boxers you're wearing as shorts. The waistband reading his name, because of course he labels his underwear and God, he's glad he does.

Because nothing has him harder than the sight of his name, just above the cleft of your ass and when you turn around?

Wally's jaw clenches at the sight of his name just above your mound, fabric so snug against you that if he looks hard enough, he can watch the way your pretty pussy forces the stretchy material to fit you like a glove.

The threads cling to you like a second skin and he's never been happier to know that he's the only one who'll be seeing the sight of you.

In his shirt, and his boxers, eating his Chinese takeout. Because God, he can't even be mad because watching your lips wrap around the chopsticks have his hands fisting.

"Why are you wearing my clothes?"

Wally can barely push the words past his lips, his eyes focused on the way the shirt's fabric moves, ever so often brushing against your chest and showing off the silhouettes of pretty, pebbled nipples.

"Are you seriously asking me that?" You question with a snort, gaze lowering to Wally's torso where he's wearing a cropped shirt that reads, 'OnlyFans' and has just... A bunch of ceiling fans on it.

"You're wearing my crop top, for fucks sake."

"It fits me better." Wally defends and painfully, he's right. A perfect, trim waist, a toned abdomen with sculpted abs and a V-line that runs deeper than generational trauma.

"You look like a slut." You mock, eyes narrowed as you take a step forward, staring up at Wally through your lashes, your lips curled into a distasteful frown.

"No, you do." He retorts. "Walking around with your ass out like some kind of Jezebel hussy."

"You're a slut."

"No, you're the slut."

"No you're the slut."

"Nuh uh, you are."

"I—I'm your sl—...fuck, keep doing that..."

Muscular hands fist at the sheets, and Wally's forehead moves to rest against the soft, silky pillow, his muscular thighs twitching with each stroke you gave his weepy cock.

He's had handjobs before.

But not like this.

Not on his hands and knees, thighs spread like he's ready to take something up the ass while you tease his cock, small hand wrapping so limply around his base, your grip gradually increasing as you get to the tip, only for you to repeat the cycle.

Over.

And over.

And over again.

"Please, please... Please, just let me come..."

Wally begs softly, his voice cracking and his gaze flitting between the slightly ajar door of your room, and the foggy reflection of you in the mirror-y ornament on your bedside table.

A cute little disco ball that judged him.

"Hm? What? What did you call yourself, Wally?" You hum. You're teasing Wally to the max, stroking him at your own pace, enjoying the way his hips twitch in ways that are so, so invisible but you feel whenever his cock rocks against your palm at a pace you didn't set. You occasionally trail a teasing finger down the seam of his balls, pressing soft and wet digits against his perineum just to watch him squirm.

"I— mmhf...— I said I'm your little slut...—" Wally gasps when his hips twitch, slowly and gradually fucking your hand.

Your grip isn't nearly as tight as what he'd usually feel but less is more when hands are as soft as yours.

The lines of your palm feels good against the sensitive skin of his tip, his expression so fucked out as he rests against the pillow. Back arched like a fucking slide, his cheek against the pillow and drooling the tiniest bit as he stares at you with hazy green eyes.

"I'm your dirty l— little whore..."

Wally can barely see straight, not when you're looking at him the way you are.

So proud of his obedience and he gasps, letting out a shaky breath.

"Can I...— fuck, can I come, please?"

Wally looks at you over his shoulder, eyes bleary from one too many ruined orgasms. And you hum, one of your manicured hands brushing over the plush globes of Wally's ass before nodding your head.

"Mhm." You hum sweetly, tugging him just a bit faster, veins throbbing against your palm and the wet slick sounds are so loud, bouncing off the walls of your room. "And say 'thank you'."

Wally's body shakes when he comes. Arms giving out and his face buried in your pillow as he takes those unsteady breaths, inhaling the scent of your lingering shampoo and smell, clinging to the cotton fabric of the pillowcase and the sheets. His hands claw at the sheets, hips bucking as cum spurts from his flushed tip, dripping down onto a puddle between his knees.

"You okay?" You hum softly, watching as Wally makes use of his shaky limbs, turning to rest back against the headboard, his chest heaving and his eyes hazy.

"Mff...—mhm..." Wally nods his head, parting full, spit-glistened lips to suck on your manicured fingers, green eyes lowered to where your fingers tug your panties to the side, pretty pussy glistening with wetness and his tongue swirls around your digits.

And Wally whines, his hands moving to rest on your hips, eyes locked on the sight of where his pretty, flushed tip leaks beads of pearly cum brushing against your folds before notching at your slit.

"Eyes on me."

Wally follows your command, lashes fluttering as he looks at your face.

You're so fucking pretty.

Your lashes are so dark and so long, the way your teeth presses into your bottom lip as you slowly slide down his cock, brows twitching when you feel the way he stretches your tight, gummy walls and fuck, you're snug.

"You're... So... —hah— tight..." Wally's lashes flutter, his lips wrapped around your fingers and his hands gripping your hips tightly and his eyes roll back when he feels his cock twitch.

You're so warm.

And so wet.

And so... So mean.

When your hips roll against his, so roughly and your free hand moves to rest on his chest, right above the golden lightning bolt charm of his chain.

"Fuck, you're gonna make me come..."

Wally mewls, fingers digging into the fat of your hips while he watches your squelchy cunt swallow him and spit him back out with each move of your hips.

"Only good boys get to come, Wally." You smile softly, leaning forward to brush your lips against the curve of his neck, smelling the sweaty salt of his musk, cock twitching against your walls. "Are you a good boy, Wally?"

And he pants.

"Yeah..." He huffs. "Yeah, I am. I'm your good boy..."

Taglist:

@lucky-beheaded 🌻

@jasontoddswhitestreak 🌸

@fayethefaerie 🦋

[gffa]

Hi, I'm both curious and interested in starting a fight among the Batman fandom

There's an old joke where the Batmobile is failing to start. Batman says:

"Robin, can you check the battery?"

To which Robin says:

"What's a tery?"

I was just curious which Robin this would have been. Funniest and most likely answer are both acceptable

Here's my answers: All of them made this exact joke. Dick came by it honestly, that's his sense of humor, especially because he likes needling Bruce for a reaction, he is never as proud of himself as when he can get Batman to laugh and dumb jokes are his FAVORITE way of getting a rise out of the man. Jason would make the joke, because he was trying to live up to Dick Grayson's legacy and mold himself in the same image, so he made jokes that weren't really his style sometimes and it was really cute, because Bruce would smile, but the times he would get a real laugh out of Bruce were when he made his own style of jokes. Tim would do it because he was beating Nightwing to the punch on a joke, because Tim Drake may be a Dick Grayson stan first and a human being second, but that often came out in the form of, "I must steal my favorite human being's joke So He Will Approve Of Me." This 100% works, Dick acts offended that his line was stepped on, but he laughs and noogies Tim's head because that's now his baby brother. Steph would do it because she's trying to fit in at the time, trying to live up to the mantle of Robin, because she's seen Tim step on people's jokes and how it's a good ice-breaker and she's really working hard at this. Damian would do it because Damian is The Funniest Child Alive Actually and will whip out a joke when you least expect it, but also because that child's foundation as a superhero was 100% Dick Grayson and sometimes he misses Dick so he makes Dick's stupid joke for him. Ultra Hot Take: Sometimes all five of them try for it at once and NOBODY is happy at the ensuing chaos, because someone has to Win at the joke, because if you're all reaching for it, nobody is annoyed In The Right Way when you make it. EXCEPT when Bruce makes an annoyed little "Hn." noise and then they all swivel their heads towards him at the exact same speed and light up with unholy glee and start chirping it on repeat. "What's a tery?" "What's a tery?" "What's a tery?" "What's a tery?" "What's a tery?" on repeat for a solid 30 seconds like a group of parrots in an echo chamber. It's uncanny and Bruce hates it, but, hey, it's teamwork and he wanted them to work together better, don't punish the behavior you want to see, Bruce.

[darlingdaisyfarm]

r you still open for requests? if so and if you havent done this, stan twins taking care of reader on their period? im on my period rn and i lowkey am craving for it,, /nf!!

❥ Stan & Ford taking care of you on your period headcanons <3

a/n: oh anon this one's for you and for everyone dealing with the struggle right now <333 may ur cramps be mild 🙏

STANLEY

★ “what do you mean you feel like garbage?? you were fine an hour ago! what happened?? who do I have to fight??” and when you explain, he just. OH. THAT.

★ “okay, okay, don’t freak out, but,” he digs around in some closet and pulls out a very old hot water bottle. “this thing got me through some rough winters. i hope this will, uh. . . stop the angry uterus thing.”

★ if anyone (Soos, Dipper, some poor clueless tourist) makes a dumb joke about “mood swings,” Stan will protect you. “oh, you think that’s funny? let’s see how funny it is when I lock you in the Mystery Shack bathroom for a week with no toilet paper!”

★ will not let you lift a finger. so worried about your state he physically shoves you back down if you try to do anything. “nope. nope, nuh-uh, baby, don’t even think about it.”

★ if you're dying from pain and nothing helps, he just holds you close while dramatically saying “oh sweetheart, if only nature was FAIR, it’d be me bleeding instead! why this world is so unfair????”

★ of course he buys you snacks. SO MANY SNACKS. he heard somewhere that chocolate helps, so now he’s bought four different brands of cheap chocolate bars from the gas station

“uh, i got these. one of ‘em’s gotta be the magic one, right?”

★ “old man Mcgucket says bark tea fixes everything. should we. . . should we try bark tea?”

★ once Stanley pulled out a beer and immediately regretted it. “. . . wait, no, that’s for me.”

★ ofc he cooks for you. he’s a big believer that food fixes all things, even if he doesn’t understand the science of it. makes you the heartiest, greasiest, most filling meal he can. you might not even want it but it’s the intent. it's the love. (and if you actually ask for something? he’ll make it with no hesitation)

★ you look even slightly like you’re in pain?? immediate concern. hunched over? “alright, that’s it, you’re going on the couch.” he literally herds you over with his hands on your shoulders, forces you to get comfortable. “c'mon, c'mon, up ya go. feet up. blanket on. there ya go.”

★ lovingly teases you when you cry over dumb stuff, but only a little. “you're cryin’ over a commercial? sweetie, c’mon.” wipes your tears anyway. kisses your forehead after.

★ grocery store trip. Stanley standing in the feminine hygiene aisle, he calls you from the store like, “baby, what the hell is ultra-thin? why are there WINGS on these? you gonna fly away or somethin’? :(”

★ i have a feeling he'll get the wrong ones. Stan comes home proud of himself only for you to be like Stan these are panty liners. he’s FLABBERGASTED. “they were in the same aisle!! they had the same stupid pink packaging!!”

★ eventually, he settles into his caretaking mode, ruffles your hair, makes bad jokes to make you laugh even when you feel awful. if you get emotional from the hormones he panics a little but ultimately just lets you cry on his shoulder and pats your back

★ mutters “alright, where’s it hurt, lemme at it.” then massages your lower back, rubs your stomach clumsily but gently. Stan is determined to physically get rid of your pain somehow even if that’s not how it works

★ makes you rest by putting on a movie and forcing you to stay put. he picks the weirdest mix of old action flicks, crime shows and one sappy romance he swears he doesn’t like. (he totally does.)

★ if you’re in pain he's gonna fix it. but since he can’t punch your uterus, he does the next best thing. distracts the hell outta you. "alright, sweetheart, what’s it gonna be? poker? tall tales? let's watch duck detective?”

you giggle. “Stan, just cuddle me.”

“oh, yeah, you got it, c’mere.” immediately pulls you onto his lap, wrapping his big arms around you, rocking his most precious thing in the world.

★ if you're up at 2 AM, restless from cramps, Stan notices immediately “owwh, doll, let’s getcha comfy.” guides you to the couch, sets you up with a blanket, turns on some quiet late-night TV. he stays up with you, spending sleepless night taking care of you. he sits there, rubbing your back, making sure you’re okay

in some hours more though, he falls asleep next to you, head leaning against yours

STANFORD

★ HE KNOWS BEFORE YOU DO. this man has studied interdimensional quantum phenomena. you think he hasn’t mapped out your cycle like a scientist mapping the tides???? PLEASE

“sweetheart, shouldn’t you be starting your period soon?”

“what? no?? I feel fine“ and twenty minutes later, you’re in pain

“ah. as I suspected.” Ford says

★ literally tracks it like a researcher. has a whole-ass journal with little notes. estimates symptoms, cravings, moods. he says it's because “I want to be prepared for you”.

you catch him writing in it one day. “Ford, what is that?”

he looks guilty and awkward. “a. . . documentation of your menstrual cycle?”

you take it, open it and your eyes widen. it got a whole-ass formula for predicting your moods

“wtf Ford, you made a menstrual algorithm??”

he rubs the back of his neck. “well, i wanted to ensure that i could be fully prepared for any and all symptoms—“

you’re just staring at the notes, not even listening to him. “did you seriously track that I crave sour candy more than chocolate???”

Ford pushes up his glasses. “i prefer to call it an empirical observation, yes.” next thing you do is kiss him senseless, because this nerd is the most devoted man on the planet

★ i assure you, he's already stocked up. you go to grab something and oh . . . heating pad? already plugged in. pain meds? already out on the counter. ur favorite snacks? somehow already bought. tea? brewing

★ of course! of course you'll get his lectures about periods. “did you know that menstrual cramps are caused by the uterus contracting due to prostaglandins? i read a fascinating study on ways to mitigate the pain—“ but let me tell you, he’s rambling because he’s nervous about you hurting. also because he thinks knowledge = comfort

★ his gentle hands, always. adjusting your blanket. rubbing slow circles into your back. fingertips ghosting over your forehead to check if you’re feverish

★ absolutely 100%, without a doubt, Ford takes notes on what helps you. if you ever say something like “ugh, this tea actually helps a lot” he writes that down. if you offhandedly mention “i think dark chocolate makes it better” he’s buying you ten bars of it next time.

★ he tries to keep you distracted. puts on old sci-fi movies and nerds out over them. reads aloud from a book if you want because he knows you love his voice

“did I ever tell you about the time I discovered a species that only reproduces once every ten years?” he just TALKS to you. calmly. thoughtfully. lets his voice carry you away from the pain.

★ he will stay up with you if you can’t sleep. even if he’s exhausted, even if he has research to do. if you’re in pain, he’s right there. “sleep, darling. I’ll stay up for a while. you need to rest.” strokes your hair until you do and presses a kiss to your temple when you finally drift off.

★ Ford can’t stand inefficiency. the first time he hears you complain about normal period products, he rubbed his chin, thinking. you’re uncomfortable??? with a problem that science could potentially solve???

“hmph. there must be a better way.” he disappears into his lab for hours.

★ what he makes depends on what you complain about! hate pads? “ah. they’re inefficient, bulky and uncomfortable. yes, darling, I see the flaws.”

hate tampons? “too absorbent, prone to leaking at unpredictable rates. . . fascinating, but flawed.”

cramps?? “prostaglandin-induced muscle contractions. I can work with this!”

no problem is too small. he listens to every complaint

★ “i will revolutionise menstruation, darling!” you're so proud of him. Ford is proud of himself too

★ normally, he treats you like his equal, his partner, his greatest love. but when you’re sick ohh he secretly loves having an excuse to baby you. he brings you tea and tests the temperature on his wrist before handing it over. he fluffs your pillows, tucks you in way too snug. if you groan in pain, he’s immediately alert. “what is it? what do you need? tell me, dearest, I’ll get it.”

i can't believe i wrote an entire fic from Ford's pov journaling reader's cycle, im going insane

[lightsoutmatthews]

Pipeline Punch - Sidney Crosby

summary: You love energy drinks, Sid? Not so much

pairing: Sidney Crosby x female!reader

word count: 1.4k

warnings: age gap (reader is described to be in mid-twenties), hints to sexual activity (nothing explicit on page)

authors note:

sponsored by my moster addiction that´s keeping me alive during hockey games in the middle of the night

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

The apartment was quiet. Sidney was still at practice, and you had instructed him to stop by the store after, just to have a little more quiet time.

Working on your master’s thesis had been draining you these days. There was a month left before you had to hand it in and while you were finished with all your research you still had many pages to write for the actual piece to be completed.

Sidney tried to support you in any way he could, staying longer at the rink to give you time alone, quietly reading in the bedroom while you worked in the dining room but also by making sure you took breaks.

He cooked your favorite meals for dinner, so you could enjoy half an hour eating before going back to work. When you laid in bed at night, he rubbed your back and told you how proud he was of you, or he worshiped your body actually showing you just how proud he was.

You enjoyed it and you were thankful for everything he was trying to do but sometimes you just needed him gone for a little while longer. Hence while you send him grocery shopping with a list that was probably half consisting of things you didn’t actually need.

Taking a break from writing you walked over to the kitchen to grab another energy drink. You were practically running on them at this point. Long nights and early mornings didn’t mix well with your sleep schedule, so coffee and Monsters were keeping you alive and your brain more or less alert.

Picking up the last one of your favorite flavors, pipeline punch, you were happy you put down “a case of monster” on Sidney’s shopping list. You didn’t have the motivation to go to the store yourself. You could order it but even picking up the phone and doing it seemed like too much distraction from work.

Taking a quick peek at the device when coming back to the table, you saw that Sid had texted you a few minutes prior.

Sid: I´m at the store, what kind of Monster do you want again? And don’t say ultraviolet, that can looks radioactive, I´m not bringing that into our house.

You chuckled at your boyfriends question. Being a hockey player, he was really looking after what he put into his body, especially during the season and always side eyed you when you grabbed a can out of the fridge. He would never dare to take a sip of it, as he told you a million times.

I Pipeline Punch (pink can), juiced monarch (peach can with yellow logo), ultra white (white can) and ultra peachy (peach can with silver logo).

I just grab two or three of each

I thank you, you´re the best x

You could picture his reaction to that exactly. He would roll his eyes, mumble something about how unhealthy it is and then pack exactly what you told him. He was considerate like that. Never thinking about making you live his lifestyle.

When you returned to your computer you sighed loudly. The page starred back at you, the graph you just pasted looking completely wrong.

You told yourself you would finish editing this and the rest of the theoretical background tomorrow so you could go to Sid´s game in the evening but so far it wasn’t looking good.

Initially you just wanted to put and edit the graphs showing your research before diving into completing the theoretical background for the topic. But none of your graphs looked right when you pasted them into the document, the captions didn’t look like you envisioned it either.

So, instead of to keep fighting with the computer you closed the document and opened the one for the theoretical background. Taking another sip of your monster you began typing.

-----------

You weren’t sure how long you sat there but when two large hands suddenly gripped your shoulders you looked up for the first time in what felt like forever. “Working hard?” Sid asked before placing a kiss to your cheek.

“You have no idea. I fought with my graphs for like two hours earlier,” you sighed. Sid began rubbing your shoulders and you relaxed into his touch. “I´m sorry, honey.”

You leaned your head back and he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. “How much do you have left in that chapter?”

“Not much, a few sentences maybe.” he let go of your shoulders, his movements sounding like he was ready to leave you alone again. “I´ll put the groceries away, meet me in the kitchen when you´re finished?” You just nodded before getting back to typing, trying to finish this as quickly as possible.

Ten minutes later you joined him. Your laptop put on its charger in the living room, retired until you´d have to get back to it tomorrow. Sidney was putting away the pile of groceries that had stacked up on the kitchen island.

“Did you get everything?” You asked with a chuckle as you inspected the mountain of your favorite snacks that was piled on the carton of monster. The half empty can you opened earlier still sitting on the dining room table. “Yeah. But don’t think I don’t get what you did.” A smile spread across his face.

“I didn’t do anything,” you chuckled. “Sure, your sudden hunger for…” he grabbed one of the packages on top of the pile. “… dinosaur cup cake mixes and…” he grabbed the next box. “… Oreo flavored popcorn, wasn’t suspicious at all.”

“My brain wants what it wants.” You laughed. He dropped the groceries he was holding and walked over to you. Wrapping his arms around your waist you leaned against his chest. He placed a kiss to the top of your head before softly creasing over your back. “I hope you didn’t mind.” Your quiet confession made him lift your head up to look him in the eyes.

“Sweetheart, you could ask me to buy you the most outrageous things imaginable and I would find a way to make it work. You needing some sweets and an outlet in baking dinosaur cupcakes is nothing.” A lingering kiss was placed on your lips before he turned back around to finish putting the groceries away.

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

An hour later dinner was simmering on the stove while Sidney was preparing a salad and you were setting the table. The forgotten Monster can still sitting next to your plate. When you picked the can up to take another sip Sid entered with the bowl of salad in one and the bowl of rice in the other.

He grimaces as he spotted you drinking your favorite drink. “How you drink this every day is beyond me.” You playfully rolled your eyes. “You´re too old to get it, babe.” He stopped mid movement and huffed.

“Not everyone can still be in their mid-twenties and not get heart problems from drinking a can of energy drink every day,” he chuckled. “You´re telling me you drank that when you were in your twenties?” He shook his head. “Absolutely not. But my teammates certainly did.”

The image of Kris or Geno drinking energy drinks around him, him having a similar reaction to when he saw you doing it made you laugh.

“You should try it,” you held out the can to him, waiting for his reaction. He eyed it suspiciously. “Come on, I´ll let you pick the movie later,” you offered. He sighed and wiped a hand over his mouth. Then he reluctantly grabbed the can.

A satisfied smile spread across your face when he set it at his mouth to take a sip. He grimaced again when the liquid touched his tongue, and he set the can down quicker than he shot a slapshot in a hockey net. “Christ, I don’t know how you drink that shit.”

A warm laugh bubbled out of you. Everything about this situation was so NOT Sidney Crosby. “Worth it for picking the movie?” you laughed.

He rolled his eyes. “We both know you will end up convincing me to watch your show because you couldn’t watch it all day.” You laughed, because he was right.

He vanished back into the kitchen, coming back with the salmon and sauce a second later. Before he put it on the table, he leaned down, so his mouth was lined up with your ear. “But I hope you remember you still owe me something for scoring that hat trick yesterday…”

Goosebumps immediately spread all over your arms. “… because I´m thinking about cashing it in tonight.”

[inaconstantstateofchange]

binggeyuan modern!AU based on this prompt where shen yuan and luo binghe live in the same apartment building, but have never met each other. SY is more-or-less his regular shut-in self, and keeps very odd hours, which means that he happens to be wide awake the first time LBH gets back to the apartment building at 3 a.m. after some manner of illicit activity and realizes he doesn't have his fucking entrance key. LBH hits one apartment number after another into the intercom, fully prepared to dazzle his way into getting one of them to open the door for him, but the intercom is old, and people come and go from this building often enough that most people don't bother getting it set up, and he's having no luck.

finally, just as he's about to give up and bully his way onto mobei-jun or sha hualing's couch for the night, someone picks up. he doesn't even remember which specific apartment number it was, he was just entering them mechanically. immediately, LBH pulls on his smoothest affect (sure the intercom has no video, only shitty, garbled audio, but that's no reason to let the universe catch you slipping) and prepares to give the sob story performance of his life. before he can even get a single word out, however, there's a crackly, almost indiscernible "Open!" and he hears the click of the entrance door unlocking before the intercom call is ended. he stares at the intercom for a minute, somewhat wrong-footed, but then shakes himself out of it in time to catch the door before it locks again.

SY, for his part, was broken out of a binge-reading spiral by the intercom call, and fully did not realize how late it had gotten. he assumed he had ordered something that was arriving earlier than expected, and kept an ear out for a knock on his front door from the delivery person for a few minutes, but then got sucked back into the target of his current literary criticism.

the next time LBH gets locked out, he starts in the general number range he remembers striking on the last time, and pays closer attention to the numbers this time. he's curious if his little philanthropist will be so accommodating again. SY orders a lot of packages, okay! the one time he didn't pick up the intercom he had to wait an extra three days for his ultra-rare, limited edition merch, which he will not be going through again. this time, though, when the intercom picks up, LBH is prepared. he starts talking immediately, playing up his stress at being locked out, how sorry he is to be a bother, and how much he really, really appreciates it. SY fully blue screens at this unanticipated display of emotions, blurts something out about how it's not problem and of course he's happy to help out a neighbor in need, then hangs up (after unlocking the entrance, of course). it is perhaps fortunate that the intercom has no video, and thus he can not see the look on LBH's face.

LBH gets more and more consistent pushy with his calls, curious how far this little philanthropist will go for him. he knows his apartment number, of course, he could just knock and introduce himself, but he'd rather let him come to him. LBH starts interjecting little questions here and there, trying to glean any information about his mysterious benefactor. SY, meanwhile, is lighting a daily candle for this poor little bun somewhere in his building, who has truly the worst luck in the entire world! who ever heard of a gang of pickpockets stealing someone's keys not once, but twice in the same week!

LBH gets comfortable with the state of things — as ever, too comfortable. nothing good can last forever. one night, after a long and utterly shitty day, for the first time in ages, he loses his key for real. he's tried to avoid reaching out to SY at any time when he's not 100% in control of himself, but there's nothing for it. he punches in the numbers for the unit he knows by heart at this point, and when it picks up, he sighs tiredly, and waits for SY to speak first. after a moment of silence, the call drops, and the door remains locked. LBH is almost shaken entirely out of his malaise. not even a word? he puts SY's apartment number in again, but this time it doesn't even pick up. he stares at the intercom in unpleasant shock for a few minutes, then punches the wall next to it and leaves. he spends the night on mobei-jun's uncomfortably small couch, staring unseeing at the ceiling above him. at least the other man doesn't ask him any questions.

their easy rapport broken, SY starts to worry when he hasn't heard from his unfortunate little neighbor — maybe he's moved out? hopefully to a place with a more accommodating security system... after a full week, his worry ramps up even higher. he wants to believe his neighbor just found a system to keep track of his keys that works for him, but statistically, it seems unlikely. feeling like the most awkward, overstepping idiot on the planet, he scribbles off a few short notes, and sticks one by the the intercom, one by the mailboxes, and one in the laundry room. his neighbor will have to go at least one of those places, certainly?

to my keyless neighbor - hope you're well! i was worried- if you ever need me, you know where to reach me. you weren't a bother- - XX4

the next time LBH stops by the apartment (he's been avoiding it by couch-hopping as much as possible, to the great aggravation of his friends) he carefully avoids looking at the intercom. as such, it's actually sha hualing who spots the note first. (she bullied her way into an invite to make LBH actually go home.) she crows out a harsh laugh, snatching the note off the wall and holding it up dramatically, cackling about "rom-com shit". LBH isn't really paying attention, until he catches a glimpse of the apartment number at the bottom. eyes flashing, he snatches the note out of her hand, and reads it over once, and then again. after a moment, he turns to sha hualing, and tells her to go home, that he's got plans, actually. she gapes at him for a moment, then scoffs and turns on her heel, flipping him off as she goes. whatever! she didn't want to babysit his mopey ass any longer anyway!

LBH spends a few frozen moments running over his options, torn between calling right now just to see if his philanthropist will pick up this time, and giving himself a chance to freshen up, and maybe make a good enough showing for himself that whatever it was that caused him to be ignored before will never happen again. ultimately, he decides on the latter, but rushes through all his preparations as much as he can while maintaining sufficient attention to detail. he wishes he had the materials to make something truly spectacular, but his apartment is showing his absence over the past week. he settles on a meal that just barely feels sufficient, and finds himself more anxious than he can remember being in years at this point, staring at his philanthropist's apartment door, two levels below his.

he raises his fist to knock, tentatively at first, too quiet to hear, and then once more, louder. a muffled voice comes through the door, and a few moments later, it cracks open to reveal a man just a bit shorter than him, with a rumpled shirt that looks like it has just been haphazardly thrown on and hair that might not have been brushed in days. he's... really cute.

LBH and SY just kind of stare at each other, frozen, for a bit, until LBH proffers the food he's brought, and SY's archaic etiquette subroutines kick in, and he invites LBH in before he can even think about. his immediate wince makes it clear he had not meant to do that, but LBH is not above making a situation work to his advantage, and graciously accepts, stepping into the somewhat cluttered apartment before SY can recover from his slip-up. they still have not exchanged names.

ultimately, they get themselves figured out. LBH introduces himself, and SY follows suit. there's a beat of silence as they both realize that this does not actually clear up anything about how they know each other. LBH finds the words to explain his own part in this are slow to come, so he finally just hands the note, neatly folded, to SY. SY's face colors, but he overcomes it to fussily poke at LBH about how worried he was, when the other just disappeared! LBH stops for a second, hearing that, then slowly responds that it was SY who cut him off first. SY gapes at him, then demands to know when he did a thing like that! he set his intercom call sound to caramelldansen and max volume so he'd be sure not to miss it!

LBH gives him the date, and SY flushes again, then looks away, muttering something unflattering about a "qingge". LBH feels a wash of jealousy, that he's misread the situation and SY is already spoken for, but SY goes on to explain that he had been stuck overnight at the hospital - for nothing major! pretty routine actually! - and the friend that was staying with him must have picked up, then hung up when he couldn't figure out who was calling.

LBH sits back, somewhat at a loss. so it... wasn't because SY was tired of him? SY sputters, waving his hands about. absolutely not! he might be slightly forgetful, but binghe is clearly a wonderful young man and it's not like SY has much else going on in his life!

LBH determines to himself then and there that the only way to ensure such a thing does not happen again is to make sure that he is the one staying with SY the next time he's in the hospital.

[always-just-red]

hello <3 could you do number 18 on the prompt list for rafayel or sylus? I just read no.15 that you did and i love your writing style

Hey! And aww thank you so much! I opted for Sylus for this one, hope you enjoy! 🥰💕

Snow Angels

Sylus x Reader 🩸

Prompt #018: falling into soft snow to create snow angels, flailing wildly on the ground.

Warnings/Additional tags: gn!reader, established relationship, some mutual bullying (but it comes from a place of love 😌)

| Word count: 1.3k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

Sylus doesn’t know why you would want to kill him, and he’s running out of time to figure it out.

You walk beside him solemnly, snow crunching beneath your boots while the bitter breeze plays with the upturned collar of your coat. When your lips part every so often— to release a particularly heavy breath— it looks like smoke from a fire he wouldn’t mind burning in. Cold and crystalline. Warm. The warmest thing in these white, wintery woods.

He glances around the skeletal trees, all gilded with silver. It isn’t bad, as final resting places go.

You haven’t said a word for ten minutes.

You stop, fatefully.

It’s time, then, is it? Sylus stops too, letting out his own billow of frosted breath. His hands are buried deep in his coat pockets. He’s been wondering how he got here, ever since the two of you started this morbid little march together. Was it that stunt he pulled at Association Headquarters last week? When he paid you a surprise visit, bundled in a hat and an absurdly long scarf, which was not (you lectured, as you escorted him from the building) cute, funny, or an even passable disguise.

It might have been the arcade. Two days ago. You’d asked for— what was it? — some crow that was somehow different from the two dozen others you’ve amassed between you. He’d won it, hadn’t he? Except no, it was the wrong one, you wanted that one, the one that was— oh forget it, Sylus. This one is fine, too.

Maybe it wasn’t fine. One wrong plushie too far, and you’ve finally snapped. Somewhere above where the two of you are standing, Mephisto caws, as if to add to the suspense. He’s always had a penchant for theatre.

“It’s pretty here, isn’t it?” you say, gazing out over your surroundings, and you must like theatre as well.

“Mmm,” Sylus agrees vaguely. He’s thinking about how preventable this all was.

“Is that Mephisto over there?” you ask, pointing. “Is he in trouble?”

You’re lying through near-chattering teeth, pointing at nothing, and he doesn’t need to look to know it. Mephisto is still perched overhead, betraying your bluff, and you haven’t even noticed. Oh, the irony. Sylus is going to die here because he can’t tell an ultra-rare crow plush from its common subspecies, but you? You couldn’t pick Mephisto out in a field full of gulls, let alone other crows.

You’ve made your feint, though. A distraction: the opening for that knockout punch you’ve been fantasising about throughout the course of this entirely innocent, not-at-all suspicious hike.

He turns, anyway— red eyes following the line of your finger through the white of the woods— and awaits his execution.

Waiting.

Waiting.

You shove him with all of your might, and it…

… Doesn’t move him. Not even an inch.

Your profession is death-dealing, your world is dangerous. Never once has Sylus doubted your ability to survive it, conquer it, walk from the bones of it like its rightful sovereign, but that faith collapses beneath one simple question:

Is that it?

He turns back to you in disbelief, mouth threatening to grin. “What was that?”

“Nothing!” Your eyes are wide with guilt and a similar shock. “It was… I mean, it was just…” You give up. “Ugh, you ruin everything! How the hell are you so strong?”

“Born with it, sweetie,” Sylus chuckles— what a stupid question. “How are you so weak?”

“I’m not weak!”

He lifts an eyebrow. “I thought the breeze had picked up. Perhaps a falling leaf had struck me, or a—”

“Shut up!” You stoop, collecting and launching a handful of snow at him, but most of it falls short. “Just shut up, okay?”

You’re actually disappointed? Sylus casually brushes away the little snow that had reached him and dusted the black of his coat. He’s not sure what you expected from a single shove and a half-assed snowball. If you wanted to do this properly, you’d have at least brought a gun.

Still. “Push me again,” he says with a smirk, because look at you: you’re really worked up about this, huh?

You frown at first, but then your disappointment goes like morning frost, kissed by sunlight. Your lips curve with his favourite smile. With your eyes ablaze, you push him again.

He doesn’t fall slowly; he drops.

“Ha!” you exclaim with a gleeful cackle, shockingly free from concern as he lies in the thick snow, thinking he maybe overcommitted to his descent. His body might ache if it wasn’t already going numb from the cold. His eyes are closed. New flakes of snow are settling on him, trying to bury him, but it’ll take much, much more than that.

Mephisto caws above like he’s in mourning.

“Happy, sweetie?” Sylus enquires, opening one eye. A dead man in a play, peeking to see if the curtain’s come down yet so he can finally move.

Instead of answering, you throw yourself down in the snow beside him with a shriek of delight. The snow is so high around his face that he can barely see you. He hears you moving: dragging the snow back and forth with flailing limbs. “Make a snow angel with me, Sy!” Is that what that is? You look like baby turtle, flipped on its shell. “Come on! It looks so cute when they do it in the movies!”

“Cute?” he mimics, unimpressed.

“Romantic,” you offer up instead, and sure enough— with a groan of lament— the leader of Onychinus starts to move his arms and legs. Back and forth. Back and forth.

Mephisto is cawing with more enthusiasm, and it sounds an awful lot like your cackle. Thankfully, the sound is easy to forget with all the swooshing, crunching snow. Sylus can’t feel his hands or his feet, but he’ll never hear the end of it if he gives out first.

Eventually, you go still. No more swooshing or crunching. Mephisto is silent. Sylus goes still, too.

“Sy?” you whisper.

“Hmm?”

“…I’m cold.”

He scoffs, sitting up and shaking his head to dislodge the snow that’s clinging to his hair and back. With another groan, he gets himself to his feet. Looks down at you lying there, staring up at the sky like you’re full of regret. He is also cold, and he’s had his fill of ‘romantic’, so he scoops you up and shrugs you over his shoulder as you squeak with surprise.

You’re facing the wrong way. You can’t see the snow angels, but he can.

“How do they look?” you ask.  

His head slants slightly. Snow ‘angels’ is a stretch. They look like… he doesn’t know what, actually. One is bigger than the other. In the middle, their wings almost meet where your fingers must have almost brushed. He smiles, his free hand drawing his phone from his pocket so he can snap a quick picture.

“Sylus.” You sound impatient. “Cold, remember?”

He chuckles; you are demanding. “Want me to warm you up, kitten?” His phone is away, his hand is on the back of your leg, and you slap at him half-heartedly. It just makes him chuckle more.

“Can’t get the right plushie from the stupid claw machine and now you’re mocking me,” you grumble. Sylus smiles to himself before you continue: “awful at claw machine, awful at letting me ambush you, awful at—”

This could be going on for a while, so Sylus turns, set on carrying you back.

“Awful at singing!” you’ve somehow gotten to.

He stops walking and oh— would you look at that! There's another snow drift nearby: so plain, so pristine.

It could really use a snow angel, and he has the perfect one in mind.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Now that Book 7 is over, were there any stand-out moments or specific dream sequences you particularly enjoyed?

General acknowledgement of the passage of time. This occurs with the third years talking about their internships in the beginning of the book and Silver's birthday at the end of the book. I like that Twst is willing to move forward rather than keep the characters static.

Sebek. While the other Diasomnia members had their character development clustered in certain sections of the book, Sebek's character development was very evenly distributed and continued even when we were dream hopping.

Lilia's dream. It was fascinating getting to roam an entirely new country (as opposed to spending like only an event's length of time exploring a hometown). I also like that they spaced out the historical reveals and allowed us to slowly piece the story together for ourselves.

Idia. I didn't like Idia much before book 6 and GloMasq changed my mind. Had an improved opinion of the guy already, but book 7 gave him so many cool lines + he actually contributed SO much in the fight against OB Malleus. I will NEVER shit talk your skills again, Idia unless we're talking social skills-- 😭

The book getting progressively more and more meta. Just really neat framing overall.

The ethical dilemma presented by Malleus's motives. On one hand, he claims he wants everyone to be happy. On the other hand, he's presenting this happiness to them by robbing them of their autonomy. It's a really interesting ethical debate as to whether he is in the "right" or the "wrong" for this; love thinking about it.

Kalim FINALLY punching Jamil. Making good on that promise from all the way in book 4, huh?

Bioluminescent Tweels.

Malleus and Silver's HOT MOMS.

NPC!Leona in Jack’s dream. Makes up for the lack of Jack’s character writing in book 2. I felt his emotions really coming through this time.

Silver finally formally taking on Lilia's surname.

Kifaji being the MVP in Leona's dream. Made me reevaluate his relationship irl with Leona as a caretaker and maybe even surrogate parents

Cater. Did not think he would have such strong big bro energy, but as soon as he joined up with our squad, he was seriously being so smart and useful in dream after dream after dream.

Leona being so sick and fed up with everything. I really felt like the writers were using him as a vessel to convey that they, too, are annoyed that the book is taking so long and they want to hurry things up too.

Ace getting his UM! Plus Yuu and Grim being there to talk him through it.

Phantom!Ortho being SO stinkin' cute. Acting like the "final boss" to test Idia's resolve... wishing him farewell, telling him the world is waiting for him... rising up from Tartarus to cheerily greet Malleus... telling robo!Ortho his new gear is ultra cute... PHANTOM!ORTHO MY BELOVED 🥰

Mob students being relevant and pitching in!! Shoutout to Igni Mobs A, B, and C! You're real ones.

NRC staff pitching in for the OB Malleus fight!! Especially Crowley????? Like damn, I thought he wouldn't be doing anything OTL

Baur and the Shroud parents! They play such huge support roles and I loved seeing them interacted with their family members.