#but I just got lazy and ended it where I did

[lostinlovingrevery]

Cute SMUTTY moments I like to imagine with Logan ~

CAUTION: smut. Lol. Like straight smut and nsfw ideas

-Logan having a bad day, sitting in a chair while he complains about Scott, or Wade, or just some aashole pissing him off. Hes so absorbed in his complaints he didnt notice you pulling all your clothes off, and standing in front of him butt ass naked. His mouth hangs open when he realizes as his eyes take you in.

"Better?"

"Yeah." He nods simply, leaning back in his chair, taking a sip of the whiskey you had handed him too. Spreading his legs and still eyeing you.

-dont worry, he still gets to vent and you listen to him. He just gets to do it with you naked and on his lap.

-Logans thrusting into you and its passionate and clumsy and youre both panting and accidentally bonk your heads, leaving you both giggling, your arms wrapped around each other in a romantic embrace, taking a moment to just kiss and enjoy being together

-lazy sundays (sorry god) where youre both just being naked together in bed, holding each other. His hands explore every part of you as if he hasnt have your whole body mapped out in his head already. Its not so much sexual but more intimate

-messing with his dick. Hes sprawl on the bed and youre between his thighs, playfully jerking him off, and tapping his tip against your lips, giving him teasing kitten licks ams grinning when he groans. Part of him wants you to make him cum already, another part doesnt want you to stop playing with him.

-him coming up to you, his fingers pushing into your jeans, hooking into your panties and lifting, then snapping them against your skin- making you yelp while he grins devilishly.

"Just wanted to see what pair you got on today."

-wearing a dress (esp for plus ladies!) That accentuate your curves and belly. Yknow that cute belly pouch us ladies got? That shit would drive logan insane if youre wearing the right clothes to show that off.

-he sees you in the dress, the lighting just makes you look so damn good, hes pushing you somewhere private to get you both off (the dress stays ON)

-logan would kneed on your tittes or ass when fucking you like deadass.

-surprising him for the first time with lingerie. Omg hes so excited. The way his face lights up like a kid on christmas morning.

-hed probably torture you for an hour because he cant stop looking over how good you look. Hes tracing his fingers over the lace and shape of your body. Hes literally obsessed.

-hes praising you and everything. Calling you pretty girl, how sweet you are to put this on for him. Hes gonna treat you real good for this.

-for girlies with love handles, logan definitely makes good use of those. (Theyre called love handles for a reason 🤭)

-sucking him off and after he cums, you just rest your head on his thigh, your hand running soothingly up and down his other thigh. Its soft and intimate and makes logan feel like you really love him. (You do)

-i made a fic about this but fucking in the shower and then washing each other afterwards. So intimate!!

-the first time you and logan do it, youre so giggly and swooning over him. It ends up being more playful and romantic, which somehow makes it 10 times better. Youre comfortable with each other. Theres a lot of praising here. Logan is smiling like a fool in love over how giggly you are (plot twist he is)

-old man logan. Making him cum, praising his body and soul, giving him sweet kisses over his chest and face while he recovers post-coitus. His eyes shut and hes panting, because he hadnt felt that good in awhile. I want him to feel relief in his body, and know thay i love him ❤️

-dofp (70s and future) logan, yall I want this man to fuck me so hard i black out, he finishes, rolls to the side and lights a cigar while his cum leaks out of me and im shaking violently, and he turns back with his cigar, soothingly rubbing my back and telling me what a good job i did. (Snuggles and praises the rest of the night)

-origins logan, i wanna ride him on the floor of his cabin, while he holds my hips and looks up at me with that lovesick puppy face he makes. Him to whisper how he loves me, and wants us to spend our lives together UGH

-trilogy logan. This man is a mix of desperate sub and mean dom. I want him to fuck me hard into the mattress, hand on my neck- all the while begging me to let him come inside. Telling me im so pretty and he cant hold on much longer. Hes biting your lip, demanding that you cum bc he needs you to so desperately bc he cant finish unless he knows youre taken care of.

-worst logan. I want him to be so rough and mean because he hasnt known a soft touch in ages, only to be so gentle with him and he suddenly melts. Hes slamming into you bc he just has so much anger built in him and then your cradle his face and kiss him softly and he realizes that you really do care, and he slows down, melting into your body as he fucks you hard still, but more lovingly.

-youre wearing a skirt sitting next to logan at a table. He begins to put his hand on your thigh, going on your skirt till he gets to your panties and starts teasing you.

-logan doesnt take baths but then you surprise him with one (youre in it) and suddnely hes asking you everyday if you want to take a bath with him.

-you and logan just fucked and youre getting out of bed to do whatever, and he smacks your ass, a cheeky grin on his face as you yelp and give him a playful scowl

-two can play this game

-next time he gets up, you wind yourself out to smack his butt next, and you do it so hard he actually jumps forward, his hand coming over his cheek where your handprint very quickly faded.

-lets just say youre bent over his lap after that getting punished.

-i said in the fluffy logan scenarios thatll he lay om your titties and ass. Yes.

-hell bite em too

-youre naked on your belly in bed, he comes in and you feel him crawling onto the mattress and then you shout bc you felt his canines sink into your ass cheek, when he then runs his tongue over to soothe it. You glare at him but he doesnt notice bc now hes snuggling his face against your cheek. Does that little head shake to get comfy and content sigh too. What a dork.

-he'll bite your titties too. Its cuteness aggression.

-logan just bites a lot.

-sucking him dry. Like so dry his regenerative factor hasnt kicked in and hes just sprawled out on the bed nearly comatose and you climb up and kiss the tip of his nose and snuggle into his chest.

-once again im imploring you to think about giggly sex with logan. Hes thrusting into you against the wall, and you both cant stay serious, just laughing and moaning into each others mouths. Youre happy. Hes happy.

-awkward things happen in sex sometimes. But you and logan can laugh it off. A quick kiss, and back to it.

-nearly getting caught in the broom closet at the mansion. One of logans moments of grabbing you and yanking you into the most private place nearby. The close call makes you call it off, but he still takes your panties and keep its in his pocket.

-you visting old man logan during his work. You surprise him by requesting his ride. You have very sweet and soft sex in the back, where he praises you being such a sweet girl to him

-logan with his superhero suit i think we all agree drives us insane. The first time you see it on him you practically jump his bones. Hes loves that it drives you so crazy.

-also we talk about him praising us (and believe me as a girly w a praise kink i get it)

-praising HIM. The first time you do it, he becomes so flustered. He gets red in the face, starts stammering on his dirty talk and pretty much cums right then. He gets even more flustered by that but you praise and reassure him that it was SO hot

-youre riding him, the evening sun shining in the window over your figure, and hes looking at you, holding your hips, leading up and down. He looks so lovesick and he tells you how in love with you he is.

-logan has those big puppy eyes. Trilogy logan is super guilty of this. Old man logan is too. It doesnt matter the variant though, they all break out the puppy eyes when they want to fuck you.

-i mean, he definitely got that devilish seductive smile and bedroom eyes that he'll use to seduce you

-but if youre busy or dont seem to pay him enough attention or notice the bedroom eyes, hell break out the puppy eyes and borderline whine for you. (Sometimes you just like to hear him beg. Its all in good fun bc he does it with you too)

-no matter your size, logan definitely loves to pick you up, thrusting into you, hands supporting your ass and hips. Hes like displaying his strength on you. (Esp if youre a bigger girl. He doesnt want you to think he cant fuck you just as hard )

-if youre out in public, in meetings, etc, and logan wants you to know hes feeling mighty attracted to you, his hand will find its way somewhere on yoh (hand, waist, knee) and he'll just rub that spot over and over. Its discreet, but you learn it.

-youre in bed, and he comes home from work/mission/being out and about, he doesnt hesitate, just immediately shedding his clothes as he makes his way to the bed and plants himself firmly between your thighs before he even utters hello. Eating you out is his stress relief.

-having hardcore rough sex, before collapsing on either side of each other, sweating, covered in each others cum, and you both look at each other, and start to smile and laugh. (Yall are so nasty)

-logan getting so giddy when you want to suck his dick like he gets SO excited. Hell def have the dom moments where yknow hes like "cmon baby get working" but then you have those nice moments where hes just a man happy to get a blow

-you convince him to swap underwear. You wear his boxers and he your panties. Hes unsure at first bc it seems embarrassing but then he gets super turned on at wearing your essence around. Sure hes a little uncomfortable bc he cant exactly FIT...but youre happy so.

-(he bends over and you spot the red thong on him and you pull his shirt down before scott notices)

-getting on his knees and pressing kisses to your belly.

-waking up in the morning, having sleepy sex. He sleepily thrusts into you,muttering how good you feel. Eventually you both cum and fall asleep with him still inside.

-he loves fucking you with one of his tshirts on. Loves how it covers your body, just barely hiding the way his dick is burying itself into you over and over

-logan deciding to be super romantic for you one night. He lights candles, rose petals, your favorite wine(or sparkling juice if you dont like alcohol)

-its soft and sensual, his hands touching you, how he thrusts into you. Its almost too much.

-interconnecting hands while fucking, you kiss his knuckles, the space where his claws come out, and he has to regain his composure over it, because youre just so soft and sweet to him. He realizes just how you arent scared of him, how you really accept and love him

"You really do love me... dont ya bub?" He asks, a soft genuine, almost childlike fascination as he looks down at you, and you smile and nod at him, and he moans, before going to work to conpletely wreck you while making plans in the back of his head on how hes gonna keep you happy the rest of your lives...

Thats all for now! Im sure ill come up with more though...😏😏😏

Thank you for reading lovelies!!

[luvfae]

Maybe it sounds weird but I've been thinking about this for a while. Thanos definitely didn't get into drugs by himself. Someone influenced him. So, reader was the one that got him into it. Met her, blud feel inlove with her, man has problems with his dad, so, probably he found comfort on her, until.. she offers him drugs. and then it all goes downhil

JUNKIE

parings: thanos/choi su-bong x f!reader

warnings: swearing, alcohol and drug use, violence, thanos slaps reader (but she likes it), drug addiction, angst

a/n: i hope i did your request justice!

The first time Thanos saw you, he thought you were untouchable.

The kind of girl that could burn him alive. The kind of girl he wanted anyway.

You had your legs kicked up on a dirty motel couch, cigarette between your fingers, eyes red-rimmed but sharp as a blade. Someone’s music played from a busted speaker, the bass rattling against the thin walls. The room reeked of sweat, liquor, and something heavier. Something dangerous.

Nam-Gyu had brought him here, saying, “Relax, bro. You work too hard. You need to fucking live a little.”

Thanos didn’t feel like living. Not really. His father had made sure of that.

And then you turned your head, looked at him like you already knew everything about him—like you knew he’d crumble for you if you asked him to. And fuck, you were right.

“Come here,” you had murmured.

And he did. He sat beside you, close enough to breathe in the smoke curling from your lips.

“You look stressed.”

He scoffed, running a hand through his hair. “Something like that.”

You smiled. A lazy, knowing smile. You reached into your pocket, pulling out a small plastic bag. White powder.

“Wanna forget for a little while?”

He hesitated. Not because he was scared, but because he wanted to. Because he was already leaning in. Because his father’s voice was an echo in his head—You’ll never be anything. You’ll never be enough.

Fuck him. Fuck everything.

You dipped your pinky into the bag, held it up to his lips. “Just a taste.”

Thanos closed his eyes and parted his lips.

That was the first time.

The beginning of the end.

The first time was just a taste.

The second time, you kissed him after.

And after that, he stopped counting.

Thanos didn’t realize how deep he’d fallen until it was too late. He told himself it was just for fun. Just a way to take the edge off. Just a way to feel something other than his father’s disappointment pressing down on his chest.

But then he started needing it.

Needing you.

You were everywhere. His nights, his mornings. Wrapped around him, pulling him into that haze where nothing fucking mattered. His music was still selling, his career still rising, but behind every hit song, every stadium filled with screaming fans, there was you.

Dragging him into the bathroom at parties.

Slipping something under his tongue when the weight of the world got too heavy.

Straddling him in the backseat of his car, your mouth sweet with vodka and destruction, whispering, “I love it when you’re like this, baby. So fucking gone for me.”

And God help him—he loved it too.

Loved you.

That was the worst part.

It wasn’t the drugs that ruined him.

It was you.

Or maybe it was the way he thought you loved him when you never really did.

Because love wouldn’t have left him shaking in some shitty apartment, trying to claw his way out of his own body. Love wouldn’t have handed him a fresh bag when he was already drowning.

“I can’t do this anymore,” he rasped one night, his voice wrecked from hours of dry heaving. His whole body ached. His hands trembled.

You sat beside him on the bed, rolling a blunt between your fingers. “Then don’t.”

He turned to you, eyes hollow. “Come with me.”

You didn’t even look up. “Where?”

“Rehab. Getting clean.”

The silence between you was louder than anything.

Then, finally, you scoffed. “Come on, Thanos.”

His stomach lurched. Not from the withdrawal. From you.

“I love you,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

You took a slow drag, exhaled smoke towards the ceiling.

And then you laughed.

Not cruelly. Not kindly. Just… indifferently.

Thanos clenched his jaw, pushing himself up even though his limbs felt like lead.

“I can’t fucking do this,” he said again, more to himself than to you.

You didn’t stop him when he left.

Didn’t call.

Didn’t check in.

He should have known you wouldn’t.

But one night, after another brutal dinner with his father—where he was called a disappointment, told his music was garbage, that he’d never amount to anything—Thanos showed up at your door.

He was wrecked. Eyes red, hands trembling, desperation bleeding from every inch of him.

“Please.” His voice was raw, broken. “Let me in.”

He didn’t have to say the rest. You already knew.

So, you opened the door, let him fall into your arms.

Because getting high with Thanos was better than getting high alone.

Thanos was a mess.

A beautiful, fucking disastrous mess.

And you loved it.

At first, he fought it. Said he didn’t want to turn out like his father, that he didn’t need it, that he just wanted you.

But you knew better.

Because the first time you pressed a pill to his lips and whispered, “Just try it, baby. For me,” he hesitated—just for a second—before giving in.

And once he started, he never stopped.

Thanos was violent when he was high.

Reckless.

Unhinged.

And fuck, it was the hottest thing you’d ever seen.

Somewhere along the way, the sweet, lovesick boy who wanted to save you had died. In his place was something raw, something vicious. He was angry all the time, eyes dark and mean, fists twitching like he was seconds away from snapping.

And you?

You only egged him on.

“You think you’re some big, scary thug now?” you taunted, fingers curling around the collar of his shirt, yanking him closer. Your breath was hot against his cheek. “You gonna hit me next, baby?”

His jaw ticked, his nostrils flared, and you fucking smiled. You always smiled. Even when he was breaking. Especially when he was breaking.

He’d just gotten into a fight—some club scene bullshit that ended with blood on his knuckles and his nose still bleeding.

Thanos exhaled sharply, jaw clenched. His pupils were blown wide, hands shaking from adrenaline and whatever cocktail of drugs he’d taken.

You crawled onto his lap, straddling him, pressing your lips against his bruised ones.

His breath hitched. His grip on your waist tightened, his fingers digging into your flesh like he was holding himself back.

But you didn’t want him to.

You wanted the rage. The destruction.

Because when Thanos was fucked up, when he was spiraling, when he was so far gone he couldn’t even see straight—

That was when he needed you the most.

And there was no bigger high than that.

“Shut the fuck up,” he growled.

You tilted your head, studying him, pressing your lips to his ear. “Make me.”

Thanos was too far gone to stop himself.

And he snapped.

His palm cracked across your face, sharp and brutal, the force of it knocking your head to the side. A sharp metallic taste flooded your mouth, copper and salt pooling on your tongue.

Silence.

For a moment, he just stared. Breathing hard. Eyes wild. Regret flickered in them—just for a second. Just a fucking second.

And then you turned back to him, blood smeared across your lip, smiling.

Grinning.

You grabbed his face with both hands, yanked him forward, and kissed him so hard it hurt. Teeth clashing, lips bleeding, tongues tangling in a way that was anything but soft.

When you pulled back, breathless, your thumb ran over his jaw, his pulse hammering beneath your touch.

“You’re just like me now,” you whispered, eyes gleaming. “Drug-fucked junkie. No one will ever care about you the way I do.”

His hands balled into fists at his sides.

“You don’t care about me, you bitch,” he spat, his voice raw. “You just wanna see me ruined.”

Your smirk widened.

“Maybe I do.”

And just like that, it was over.

Whatever was left of the boy he used to be—gone.

Thanos was ruined. Addicted to the drugs. Addicted to you.

And there was no coming back.

[realhotgirlshitah]

Baking up Trouble (Preview)

Brother’s best friend Luigi x fem reader

This is a preview because I’m too lazy to write a summary LMAO. (Yes this will be smut. Probably the smuttiest smut I’ve ever written so stay tuned idk).

Also lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist for when I actually finish and post 🧍🏾‍♀️🫶🏾

It was rare for you to have the house to yourself.

Whether it was your mom bustling around the kitchen, your dad bellowing on the phone with some poor soul on the other end, or your older brother Caleb shouting over his headset at his friends while playing whatever dumbass game he was obsessed with that week, your home was never quiet.

So, when you finally got the chance to experience true, undisturbed silence, you weren’t about to let it go to waste.

Your parents were out of town on some business trip, dragging Caleb along under the guise of “preparing him for the family empire” or whatever grand plan they had for him. You had to admit you were grateful he was their golden child and not you because the idea of taking over the family business bored you to death. You respected it, sure, but you knew from a young age that it wasn’t for you. So when they extended the invitation—well, demand—to come along, you’d firmly declined, claiming you needed the downtime.

And oh, what a glorious decision that had been.

The house was finally quiet. Peaceful. Blissful. No one was yelling. No one was stomping around. It was just you, your favorite playlist blasting through the speakers, and a baking project you hadn’t been able to tackle since midterms swallowed your life.

You’d opted for comfort, slipping into your comfiest pajama set—a tiny pair of soft cotton shorts (the ones your best friend had gifted you as a joke, with the words “Best Ass on Instagram” emblazoned across the back) and a matching cami. You figured no one would see you, so what did it matter? With Megan Thee Stallion’s music fueling your every move, you danced around the kitchen as you whisked, measured, and kneaded your way into what you were sure would be the best cookies and cakes you’d ever made.

Life was good.

Until it wasn’t.

“CALEBBBBBB! DUDE, WHERE ARE YOU?”

The loud, grating voice shattered the peaceful bubble you’d created, making you jump so violently that the whisk you were holding clattered onto the counter. You froze, your heart sinking as recognition dawned.

There was only one person on Earth capable of being that loud and that irritating at the same time.

Luigi. Fucking. Mangione.

You groaned, your fingers gripping the edge of the counter as you prepared yourself for the chaos about to descend. Luigi had been Caleb’s best friend since they were kids, practically living at your house during summer breaks and any weekend they didn’t have plans elsewhere. He was obnoxious, smug, and always seemed to derive way too much joy from making your life difficult.

Before you could even think of hiding, he sauntered into the kitchen like he owned the place, his trademark smirk plastered across his face. He looked the same as always—big brown puppy-dog eyes that didn’t match his sharp tongue, short brown curls that were in DESPERATE need of some hair oils and curl cream, and, of course, that fuckass shirt.

“The Bali shirt… again?” you glared, gesturing at the faded blue tee he wore. “What is this, Day 527 of you refusing to buy new clothes?”

His grin widened, unbothered as ever. “What can I say? It’s comfortable.”

“Your family owns like half the town, Luigi. Maybe splurge on a shirt that doesn’t look like it’s been run over by a truck.”

“Why would I? This one drives you crazy. Can’t put a price on that.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t fall out of your head. “What are you even doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Shortcake.”

You bristled at the nickname he’d been calling you since you were kids. You hated it then, and you hated it now, mostly because it only made you feel shorter.

“Don’t call me that,” you snapped.

“What, you don’t like my nickname for you?” he teased, leaning casually against the counter like he didn’t notice (or care) that you were glaring daggers at him.

“No. I don’t, it’s inaccurate, i’m above average height,” you deadpanned.

“Well, too bad. It’s cute. You’re cute. Deal with it.”

You let out a sharp exhale, trying to ignore the way his words made your stomach do something infuriatingly close to flipping.

“Luigi,” you started, crossing your arms, “Why. Are. You. Here?”

He blinked innocently. “Looking for Caleb.”

“Well, Caleb isn’t here, genius. He’s in D.C. with my parents.”

Luigi frowned, his expression briefly falling into confusion before that damn smirk returned. “Huh. Guess I missed the memo, I really thought he’d be here,”

“Well, he’s not,” you said, your tone sharp. “So you can leave.”

He didn’t move. Instead, his gaze flicked over you, taking in your outfit with a slow, deliberate once-over that made your skin heat.

“Cute shorts,” he said, his voice dipping just enough to send an annoying tingle down your spine.

Your face burned. “Excuse me?”

“They’re… festive,” he continued, clearly amused. “What’s it say? ‘Best Ass on—’”

“Don’t.”

“Instagram?” he finished anyway, grinning as your glare deepened. “Fitting.”

“Get out.”

“Why? I’m complimenting you.”

“Luigi.”

“Yes, Shortcake?”

“Get. Out.”

He sighed dramatically, but instead of leaving, he pulled out a chair at the kitchen island and plopped himself down. “Nah, I think I’ll stick around. You look like you could use the company.”

Your jaw dropped. “Are you serious right now?”

“Very.”

“Caleb isn’t here. You have no reason to be here.”

“You’re here,” he said simply, propping his chin in his hand as he stared at you.

You scowled. “That’s not a reason.”

“It is for me.”

You groaned, turning back to your dough in an attempt to ignore him. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re adorable when you’re mad,” he shot back without missing a beat.

Your hands stilled, the words catching you off guard. You hated how smooth he could be, how effortlessly he could make you flustered with just a few words. And worse, he knew it.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” you asked, not bothering to look at him.

“Not really.”

“Go find something. Or someone. Literally anyone but me.”

“Why would I do that when I’ve got the best view in town right here?”

You froze, your stomach flipping as the weight of his gaze settled on you. Slowly, you turned to face him, narrowing your eyes.

“You’re disgusting.”

“And you’re a terrible liar,” he countered, leaning back in his chair with that infuriating grin still firmly in place.

“Why are you like this?” you muttered, more to yourself than to him.

“Like what? Charming? Handsome? Irresistible?”

“Annoying. Obnoxious. Full of yourself.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Admit it, Shortcake. You’d miss me if I wasn’t around.”

You scoffed. “In what universe?”

“This one,” he said easily, his eyes locked onto yours.

The tension in the air thickened, the playful banter giving way to something heavier, more charged. For a moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to look away. His gaze was intense, almost searching, and it made your chest tighten in a way you didn’t want to examine too closely.

Finally, you broke the silence, turning back to your dough with a sharp exhale. “You’re delusional.”

“Maybe,” he said, his voice softer now. “But I’m not wrong.”

You didn’t respond, focusing instead on kneading the dough with more force than necessary. The sound of the music filled the space between you, but it did little to drown out the weight of his presence.

[beef-brisket]

((Ohmygod- he left his yard!

And eat double shit Alastor!))

Lucifer snuggled up in his blankets. He couldn't believe he did that. He's never even thought of going over there before.

And if he ignored how quickly his heart was beating and how much his hands were shaking, it wasn't too bad. He didn't see Alastor, and the walk... was okay. Nothing happened.

He hoped Adam didn't mind him dailing before he got to the door, but Lucifer had a feeling he'd understand.

-

Lucifer stood at his door, the morning light streamed into his house. It looked gorgeous outside. There was a light mist, and the grass had dew on it. Lucifer loved mornings like this.

Tightening the band of his dressing gown, he opened the door and made his way to the letter box.

He almost jumped when he saw Adam standing eith his back facing him.

What was he doing?

Lucifer cleared his throat, and worked up the courage to say something: N-Nice morning, huh?

Jumping, Adam turned and smiled brightly at Lucifer. He swore the guy was made out of literal sunlight or something.

Adam: Hey, Lu! Yeah, it's great, huh?

Lucifer nods: You uh... you okay?

Adam: Oh, yeah. Just... stressed out, you know? Between the move, my job and... this mess.

Lucifer: Y-yeah, the previous owner- d-didn't really care...

Adam: That's an understatement... did you know that along our fence line are sunflowers?

Lucifer scanned the fence line and eyed the uncomfortable, dead looking stalks.

Lucifer: Oh- no, I didn't.

Adam: Yeah, neither did I. Look at these poor things! They look ready to turn to dust as soon as a strong breeze blows past... but I shouldn't judge. Some people don't have the time, or their sick...

Adam sighed and ran his hand through his hair: I'll get there... I like your garden, it's low maintenance, but also neat, you know? It's nice.

Lucifer smiled, and his daughter put a lot of work in maintaining his yard. And even though it's mostly just bushes and some small ground coverings, it does look good.

Lucifer: I'm sure Charlie would love to hear that.

Adam: Oh yeah? She offered to help with mine... if she's not too busy in the future, I might have to take her up on it. It's driving me crazy looking at it- and don't get me started on the backyard.

Lucifer laughed at how annoyed Adam looked. He had a pout of his face that made him look like a child about to have a tantrum.

Adam: Hey, uh... I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable last night. Coming to your door, I mean. Your daughter and... Al, have told me a little bit about what's going with you- and I'd hate it if I did anything to make you... worry or panic- I swear, that's not what I wa t to do- fuck, now I'm panicking.

Lucifer chuckled: I-I'm okay, Adam. It was a little... jarring. But, when I saw it was you- I calmed down a little.

Adam: Oh. Oh! That's great! Holy shit, I was so worried... okay- uh, I won't do that too often, I swear! Speaking of, I should stop holding you up- I've got to go to work anyway... God.

Adam ran his hands down his face. He needed a job like Lucifer, where he never had to go anywhere. But then, Lucifer's is for medical reasons, Adam's just lazy and hates dressing up like a catholic boy going to church.

Lucifer: I... don't mind talking to you. It's... relaxing, almost. You're funny.

Adam: Oh, I know. I did a talent show when I was in primary.

Lucifer: You did?

Adam: Yeah, man. I made everyone piss themselves! I was great. Or I would have been if my talent wasn't playing one of the hardest metal guitar rifts in fucking history. Word of advice: Don't play the music of the Devil in front of nearly two hundred Christians.

Lucifer laughed: O-Okay, I'll heed that advice.

Adam: Good! And I won't charge you. Shit- I better go. Have a good day, Lu!

Lucifer: You to, Adam!

Lucifer followed Adam out- but only to the letter box.

They gave wachother a quick wave, and Lucifer watched as Adam drove off.

He chuckled when he could still hear Adam's music at the end of the street. That man's going to go deaf surely.

Charlie: Hey dad!

Lucifer smiled widely and opened the gate for his daughter. He instantly eyes the plastic container in her hands.

Lucifer: Ooh! You've been baking!

Charlie chuckled: Of course! I couldn't come empty handed.

They gave each other a hug and a quick kiss before walking inside.

Charlie: You doing okay?

Lucifer: Yes! Good- would you like a tea ot coffee?

Charlie smiled: Coffee, please dad.

Trapped Heart

@beef-brisket

⚠️This deals with Agoraphobia, anxiety, depression, and mentions of domestic abuse ⚠️

-

Adam: Well that's the last of them.

He looked around his new home and smiled, this place was so much better than his last home and a third of the price too.

They were practically giving it away.

There was his lawn mower that was on the truck still.

Adam went out to put it in the garage when he noticed his neighbor, a short blonde man getting his mail from his box. He was better looking than his last neighbor.

Adam waved: Hey!

Lucifer jumped as he grasped his mail, he looked over and saw a handsome brunette standing in the driveway across the road smiling and waving.

Lucifer: O-Oh, hi!

Adam: Names Adam, I just moved in.

Lucifer: N-nice to meet you! I'm Lucifer, I hope you like it here.

He wanted to be polite and welcome his new neighbor right, but he could already feel the cold tendrils of anxiety start to slowly crawl through his skin trying to wrap around him like a vice grip.

How long has he been outside? His heart started to beat a little hard with each moment he's not back in his home. He could die! He's not safe he needs to get back!

Adam: Yeah me too.

By the looks of it he already likes what he sees.

Lucifer nodded, he could feel the tremors starting in his hands the palms getting sweaty.

He needs to go.

Lucifer: I-It was nice to meet you Adam! B-But I need to get going.

Adam: Oh okay, maybe we can hang out sometime?

Lucifer gave a tight smile: Y-yeah.

He waved again to be polite and tried not to run back to his house, his therapist said it was good for him to be out as long as he could stand it.

Pushing himself a little each day. Today him reached his limit.

Once his front door was closed and locked behind relief washed over him, he's safe now nothing can hurt him. He hugged his mail to his chest, he needed to sit down.

Lucifer went over and placed everything on the coffee table. He tried to remember his breathing exercises.

Adam seemed very nice, maybe he'll send Charlie over when she comes to give him a proper greeting.

-

Adam tilted his head as he watched his new neighbor go into his home, if he didn't know any better he would say the man was panicked. Did he do something? He knows his personality can be a little brash at times but he thought he was being polite.

A man that lived beside him came out for his mail as well.

Adam: Hi! Umm, I'm new here.

Alastor: Oh hello! I'm Alastor, I guess that makes us neighbors.

Adam chuckled: Guess so. Umm, if I may ask, is the man that lives there okay? I didn't intend to upset him.

Alastor looked over at Lucifer's home and rolled his eyes.

Alastor: Getting the mail was he? Don't worry about it that man's afraid of his own shadow. I wouldn't waste my time, he never leaves his house.

Well that sounded a little dramatic.

Adam: What?

Alastor leaned on the fence: Oh yeah, Mr. Morgenstern over there never leaves his house. Rumor has it that his wife used to beat the fuck out of him in the home but it was worse when they were in public. Apparently she'd just humiliate him and others would join in making things worse. He was never free of her but at least in the home he could be alone.

Adam was horrified to hear that: Dude, the fuck, is that true?

Alastor shrugged: Not sure. All I know that is true is she left him nearly 8 years ago and he's become some kind of hermit that never leaves the damn house. His daughter Charlie, sweet girl you'll likely meet her, comes over from time to time.

Adam looked over at Lucifer's house, that couldn't all be true right? Maybe some was and the rest is telephone gossip extras?

Him and Alastor parted ways, he had to put everything away in his house. All the while his mind kept going back to the handsome neighbor across the way.

[downtherabbitholewithlucy]

👻LIMP BIZKIT'S HOUSE OF HORRORS👻

(a terrible, poor excuse for a Halloween campy-"horror" fic that was never intended to be a fic... but yet here we are. Warning: Foul language, "jumpscares"... sure, if you wanna call it that.)

(no seriously, this is not good. turn back now and spare yourselves)

You'd heard the rumors for so long. An old house at the edge of town supposedly haunted by the trapped souls of a band where nu metal went to die. Why did nu metal die in this house? Well no one really knows. But you were here to find out.

You walked into the decrepit house. A chill traveled down your spine. You weren't sure if it is the rain in cool October night or something else.

The wind outside howled, causing the door you stepped through to slam shut.

You immediately turned around and tried to turn the doorknob with no luck.

You stood there as reality set in.

You were stuck here. You shook the flashlight in your hands and turned it on.

A voice stirred you from your thoughts.

"Welcome to my haunted crib punk."

Your eyebrows shot up at the sound. You turned around, trying to find the source of the voice, but there was no one there. "...umm, h- hello?"

"Didn't you read the fuckin' sign outside? What'd ya got a death wish?"

"Who's there?" You raised the flashlight and aimed the beam in front of you.

"WHOA! Easy with that thing. You're gonna blind somebody."

You raised the beam to your face. "I'm not gonna ask again. WHO'S THERE?"

"You do know I can see you right? Even without the flashlight. But since you can't see me, let me introduce myself. Name's Fred Durst. I'll be your host. You're ghost host."

"Isn't that from the Haunted Mans-"

"Do you ever stop talking?"

"Look, can you just help me find out what happened here so I can get out of here?"

"Bossy much. Okay, okay, look... all the answers you're looking for are right up those stairs."

You scoffed. "You've gotta be kidding?"

"Nope."

"Can't I just like, you know, ask you what I want to know?"

"Nuh uh. I don't do interviews. Media twists words for print."

"The media? You do know I'm not a journalist and that you're a ghost, right?"

"Up the stairs. That's how this works."

"Geez, now who's the bossy one." You rolled your eyes before making your way up the steps, each one creaked louder and louder.

When you made your way up you found a long hallway adorned with eerie portraits.

You looked at the inscription below each, 'Sir Wesley Louden Borland. Lead guitarist known for his eccentric looks'.

The hallway continued on forever. Strange artifacts lining the walls.

"Huh, that's an odd take of an armored knight."

You kept walking.

"Wait... did it just, move?" You took in a deep breath. "No you're just imagining things. Don't be silly."

"Yeah, it does that sometimes."

"WHA-?"

"Handsome, right?"

"Wait... FRED?"

"Don't look so shocked."

"I thought I couldn't see you since you're a ghost."

"Nah. I just like to fuck with people. I choose when I want people to see me."

The exasperated look on your face said it all. "What the hell man? Just help me get outta here."

"Sure thing. Just pick a door."

"Huh?" You turned and faced the direction phantom Fred was pointing in.

A short hallway with five doors.

You blinked.

"AHHH! SHIT. HOW did you get there? And why do you look different?"

"I'm a ghost. Remember? I'm everywhere. And I look how I wanna look. You don't like it, that's your problem."

"Look, whatever. How are those doors gonna help me?"

"One of them holds your exit. And who knows maybe you'll find the answers you're looking for.

"Fine. Let's just get this over with."

You marched to the first door on your left. Before you could open the door, you heard banging and clashing over and over again. It just got louder the more your hand reached out for the knob. With a twist and push, you opened the door and were hit with the sight of blinding lights, swinging chains from the ceiling and a figure seated at a drumkit. His back turned to you.

The figure banged on the drums like a madman with a chaotic beat. The lights flicked like a strobe flickering around his form. You got closer, hand reached out to tap his shoulder, but before you could even make contact, his head twisted all the way around to face you whilst his torso remained still.

"TAKE 'EM TO THE MATHEWS BRIDGE!"

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!"

You ran out the room and slammed the door shut.

Fred's mocking laugh echoed from the distance as you braced your hands against your knees and caught your breath.

"No luck with that door I guess?"

"WHAT'S THE DEAL WITH THIS FREAKING HOUSE FRED?"

"Check out the other rooms and you'll see."

You huffed under your breath and marched forward to the next room but not before muttering, "I'm so over this nu metal rendition of Five Nights at Freddy's".

"I heard that."

"Good." You pushed the next door open and stepped inside.

It was pitch black. Not even a window off in the distance to illuminate the floor. Your flashlight had stopped working and wouldn't turn back on. Great.

You heard a sound, grating, like nails on a chalkboard.

You stood there, frozen like a statue, but the sound kept becoming more piercing.

Suddenly the sound reversed backwards, then repeated back to it's original tone before reverting back again. It kept on going like that over and over until the scratching sound got repeatedly faster until the sound changed.

"Are those... horns?"

The sound switched to an upbeat hip hop tempo and a light shone in front of you... and it wasn't from your flashlight.

A pair of floating hands hovered over a turntable as the ghostly fingertips spined the records.

The light grew wider, illuminating a face with a black weed ball cap shielding his eyes.

"DJ LETHAL FROM HOUSE OF PAIN IN THE BUILDING!!!"

The DJ's hands lifted off from the records as the song continued to mysteriously play. The records started to levitate above the turntables. They rotated, thin side facing right at you before sharp knives protruded from the edges charging at you like Chinese stars.

"WHAT THE FU-"

You turned back around and bolted out the door, shutting it before you could finish your expletive statement as the razor sharp records pierced through the wood of the door on either side of your head.

"FRED I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DON'T GET ME OUT OF HERE IN THE NEXT-"

woof, woof.

"-huh?"

You looked down, only to be greeted with a wide set of jet black eyes attached to a yellow face. The figure crouched at your feet. It looked human, well not really, more like an alien... but it acted like a... puppy... maybe.

You bent down to get a closer look. "Hi little fella." You slowly reached out to pet it's head.

Fred's voice echoed along the halls, "I'd watch out for him. He-"

"OWWW."

"-bites."

You stood up to nurse your bitten hand. "You little fucker."

The creature growled and stood up on two feet, sharp canines ready to bite again.

"NOT THIS SHIT AGAIN!" You backed off and ran away, heading for the next door, entering it and slamming it shut.

The creature's growls died off in the distance.

A low, treble rumbled around your ears like surround sound.

In front of you, several feet away, a shadowy figure with red glowing eyes stood still. Suddenly, his glowing red eyes appeared to have multiplied down the length of his body.

The low sound seemed to be mirroring the rapid beating of your heart.

You gulped. Loud.

Spotlights illuminated from the ground and you were surrounded by mirrors.

Suddenly the shadowy figure was everywhere. His reflection beaming off every mirror as the spotlights on the floor casted enough light on his sinister face and the long bass guitar he was holding.

Before you knew it the strings detached from the bass' bridge and snapped out like wild whips ready to make contact with your flesh.

You cried out in horror not knowing which direction they were actually coming from and worse, not knowing where the door was through all the mirrors.

You swore the strings were coming right at you in dozens of different directions, but when you never felt anything after each whip, you grew more afraid.

This was psychological warfare.

Without a second thought, you chucked your flashlight out in front of you and the image of the bass wielding madman shattered to the ground revealing the door once again. You ran to it and exited the room as quickly as you possibly could.

When you made it out into the hallway again, you were met with "the alien puppy" once again waiting for you in front of the door across from you, only this time it had transformed into a demonic mutt.

"I take it that's his doghouse- er- um, room?"

The haunting voice of Fred chuckled. "Yeah, a little of both."

You looked back at the demon pup.

It barked at you before scurrying around and moving into the room that was already slightly opened, waiting for you to follow.

"Do I even wanna know what's waiting inside?"

"Don't think I could describe it to you even if I wanted to."

You sighed. "Jesus Christ."

When you made your way through the door you were stopped by a ghostly figure wielding a sharp sword.

"HALT!"

"Wha-"

"What brings you into my lair?"

"Your lair? What are you talking ab- Who are you?"

"The name is Sir Wesley Louden Borland." The phantom stated in a terrible British accent.

"Ohhh, like in those creepy photos in the hallway."

"Creepy pho-" The phantom's accent quickly faded into a nasally American accent that was clearly offended, before he cleared his throat and doubled down on the Brit tone. This time it echoed in a cheesy villainous way that vibrated past your ear drums. "You haven't answered my question. What brings you into my lair?"

You rolled your eyes. "I don't even know anymore. I was searching for some philosophical answer to nu metal, but honestly, now I just wanna go home man."

"Very well then. To escape my lair you must complete one task."

"What's that?"

"Figure out which Wes is real."

"Huh?"

Before you knew it the sword-holding-phantom had vanished and two figures had emerged on the other side of the room.

"REALLY?"

The two figures stood still.

The one, piercing through your soul with an eerie set of double eyes, none of them blinking.

The other, perched high up on a wicker chair, glaring down at you like a sleep paralysis demon haunting your slumber.

"What the hell am I supposed to do now?"

The phantom's voice echoed through the room again. "Figure out which Wes is real."

"Yeah, you said that already Mr. Ghost-Phantom-Man."

Silence.

You shook your head in annoyance and started to tip-toe your way further into the room, closely analyzing the two figures' features as you made your decision on which you were going to interact with first.

Yep, not the sleep paralysis demon.

"Okay mister four eyes, let's check if you're real."

You tickled his mustache.

Nothing.

Grabbed him by the suspenders and sent it snapping back.

Nothing. Didn't even move one bit.

"Guess this is just a really good statue. Alright then, Mr. Sleep-Paralysis-Demon it is."

You marched over to the tall figure and tugged at it's long silk robe it wore.

Nothing.

You reached up for it's hand and was surprised to be met with such hardness. Like stone.

"What the heck! Hey Mr. Ghost-Phantom-Man? I think you sent me some defective Wes dudes over h-"

And that's when you heard it.

The sound of two down tunned guitar riffs going off in the distance.

Your eyes widened.

The guitar went off again.

Suddenly the whispered voice of Sir Wesley Louden Borland was right there in your ear. "You seemed to have forgotten the one standing behind you..."

Your teeth chattered as your body involuntarily turned around, slowly. There was nothing but darkness there.

"...I present to you, Bloody Butcher Borland."

The guitar riff sounded off again and from the shadows emerged bold red figure with fresh blood smeared all over it's body.

He flashed a wicked grin before twisting the neck of the guitar off it's body and it transformed into a sword. He held it up to the light.

"...wait a minute... that's Sir Phantom-Dude's sword!"

Before you knew it the bloodied figure was chasing you, sharp weapon in hand.

"OHMYGOD!!!" You exclaimed as you ran for your life, trying your best to run around him and reach for the door again, but the room was somehow getting larger and larger. The distance between you and the door growing further apart.

You looked back and that's when you really felt like you were going to shit yourself.

You were being chased by Bloody Butcher Borland, as he was joined by every single form of Wes that you'd encountered. Sir Wesley Louden Borland, Four-Eyes, Sleep Paralysis Demon, Demon-Mutt, and Alien-Puppy.

"FRED I COULD REALLY USE YOUR HELP HERE! HOW DO I GET OUT OF THIS ROOM? IT JUST KEEPS ON STRETCHING!" You yelled out as your legs continued to bolt for the door with no luck.

The ghost voice of Fred grunted around you, "Ugh, do I have to do everything around here?"

"GET ME OUT OF HERE!"

"Fine. Here. Catch."

"WHA-"

You heard a whooshing sound above you as you saw brown object dropping in mid-air. You reached your hands out and caught the hard object.

A ceramic rabbit.

And that's when you heard it. The charging footsteps behind you went still and a choir of monotone voices erupted behind you.

"LUCY."

You looked down at the rabbit in your hands, then looked back up at the hoard of Wes figures standing still in front of you, in a trance.

"Is this what you want?" You shook the rabbit figurine out like a teddy bear in front of a baby.

The hoard shook their heads 'yes' in unison.

You gently placed the figurine on the hard floor beneath you and slowly walked backwards, watching as the room began to shrink back to regular size as the hoard of Wes' made their way to the rabbit like travelling zombies.

"MUST PROTECT LUCY. MUST PROTECT FRIEND."

You looked on at the odd ritual in front of you as you continued to make your way backwards until your back had hit the door.

With a sigh of relief you grabbed the doorknob, twisting it open, but you stopped, looking back at the figures in the middle of the room as they took turns clutching onto their ceramic friend like a bunch of Neanderthals'. You had to admit, it was a heartwarming sight, well if you set aside the near-death experience of it all.

You made your way out the door and closed it tight.

You looked ahead at the last door. That had it be it. The exit.

You walked over to the door but quickly stopped. Standing there in contemplative thought. You whispered to yourself in revelation, "Wes lost his friend, Lucy, so then he lost his spirit. When the band lost their friend, Wes, they lost their spirits. When nu metal lost the band, nu metal was no more..."

"So it looks like you did find what you were looking for after all, huh?" Fred's ghost appeared in front of you once more.

You looked up at his ghostly figure, "It all makes sense now."

"I guess you're finally ready to walk through that last door."

"Yeah... I guess so."

"Alright, partner. Keep on rollin', baby. You know what time it is." Fred said softly with a wink.

You shared a knowing smirk with his ghost and opened the door but stopped before going through it, turning back to look at Fred's ghost inquisitively.

"Wait, so why did y'all haunt this house specifically. Was this like where y'all held band practice when starting out?"

Fred rolled his eyes. "Did anyone ever tell you that you ask too many damn questions? Jesus. Yeah sure, that's the reason. Why not? Now get lost. The haunted house tour is over." He shoved you out. "Don't forget to pick-up your souvenir photo at the exit giftshop."

"Souvenir pho-?"

SNAP.

A bright light flashed from the porch awning... or maybe it was lightning. Either way you were too distracted by the blinding light and missed a step on your way out of the porch, tumbling down to the ground.

Thunk.

You were knocked out cold.

When you finally came back to your senses, a figure in white stood above you.

You blinked a couple of times to unblur the image.

"TRICK OR TREAT PUNK. TAKE SOME CANDY FOR THE ROAD."

HAPPY HALLOWEEN 👻🎃🦇💀🐈‍⬛

[kit-screams-into-the-future]

jesus christ, doc, i thought you were a goner! warn a guy next time, will ya? jesus christ, doc. jesus christ

bonus doodle post-extra-long-hug:

(listen im a sucker for the forehead kisses alright. whenever it happens in a fic i eat that shit UP. it's the cutest thing ever idc)

[charaunderwood]

i think he's innocent

[impossible-rat-babies]

gamers it might be so jover for me w the peets on eyrie

[gio-cosmo]

Yippie !

[wereh0gz]

Y'know I think I'm starting to truly understand the kids who just didn't do anything in class during middle and high school. As someone who used to be a gifted kid and never really got it. Fucking hell

[meetthesoldier]

im the number one mickbell fan

[poisonouspastels]

actually im kind of thinking abt how all the main players in the AU are probably way more mentally Not Great than it may appear at first

[playingonedchess]

shoutout to m&s for making you pay extra for the price of the coffee beans on top of the price of the coffee

[foldingfittedsheets]

There was this park near where I grew up. I remember we’d just moved to the area so I was around six and we drove past and saw this waterfront area. My parents decided to check it out so we went for a walk. It was a lovely park, there’s a lazy slough, lots of trees, extremely picturesque. My parents ambled along the trail enjoying the nature while my siblings and I ranged around in their orbit like excitable moons.

Then I saw something odd. Something vibrantly alive down by the water that was entirely the wrong color. I called back my vital scouting info and my family gathered around me. We looked down the steep verge toward the slough, screened by underbrush. We couldn’t quite make out what it was. The only thing we could agree was that it certainly wasn’t a duck. However it was about duck sized and roughly duck shaped. It just wasn’t a duck.

This led to some heated debate amongst my siblings and I but we were forbidden to scramble down the muddy hill to harass the mystery animal. Reluctantly we continued down the trail, speculating wildly when a chicken popped out of a bush in front of us with a train of several chicks.

We froze. The chicken did not. She placidly herded her little puffs across the trail, pecking happily for seeds, unbothered by our proximity. My family had not yet delved into farming and this was the first time any of us kids had seen a chicken up close. It was like a fairytale thing, a creature we had seen over and over in books was suddenly here in the wilderness of the park. We all realized the mystery creature had likewise been a chicken.

Another couple came up the trail and saw us staring.

“Is this your first time at the park?” They asked?

We nodded.

They informed us that this park had become a dumping ground for unwanted chickens. Once the chickens were dumped they were park property and the locals didn’t mind the eccentric additions at all. No one looked after the chickens, but they got on surprisingly well.

As the years went by we visited the park regularly. Signs were added to warn people not to dump off chickens or they’d be fined. They were also excluded from snatching the existing chickens. The hope was that the chickens would eventually run their course and the park would go back to normal.

It did not.

Instead the menagerie grew. Peacocks cropped up occasionally, turkeys; and one visit we saw guinea fowl. But there were always chickens. Eventually feed dispenser were installed so park goers could pay a quarter to enjoy the motley flocks.

Because we’d moved into a house with land my mom started up a chicken coop and we got our very own chickens at the feed store like proper folks. The first rooster we had was a gentleman, politely clucking at us when came into the coop, but the second proved troublesome a year later. He either adored or hated me. Every time I entered the coop he’d dance and flounce and brandish his spurs.

My mom didn’t want to off him frankly she didn’t know how at that point but his fascination ended with him flying at me and the rooster was sentenced to banishment.

We drove to the park.

We saw him there for years afterward, clucking dutifully around a small flock of hens. He did pretty well in exile.

Anyone who’s kept chickens knows that eventually there’s always a tragedy. Ours happened when a neighbors dog broke into our coop and slaughtered the flock. I was absolutely distraught, my lovingly hand reared chicks all decimated in a flurry of senseless bloodlust. I have not loved a chicken since. They are too fragile to bear it.

After a few days of mourning my mom offered that she knew where to find some more chickens. To make up for the massacre she planned a night raid with us. We stayed up past our bedtime and drove to the park with tarp covered kennels in the back of the truck.

We crept down along the gravel parking lot, looking up into the trees, spotting the telltale lumps of shadows that meant chickens. We quickly developed a strategy. We picked a chicken branch, creeping close underneath. Then we reached the end of the branch and gave it a good shake until the roosting chicken glided down to the ground in confusion. It was easy to scoop them up and we went home the proud new owner of a handsome flock of chickens.

The Take a Chicken Leave a Chicken park is still a beloved feature of its neighborhood to this day.

[handbellanon]

Anyone know how to professionally say to the client “we messed up rather large part of your service request bc I mistakenly assumed my coworker was capable of doing a fundamental part of her job and thus didn’t catch that issue during the QC process”?

[babybluebanshee]

So I finally got my water heater replaced after more than half a year of it leaking and nearly destroying my floor, but that's not the story. The story is of the handyman that installed it.

Dude's name is Chris, and he's your typically midwestern schlub - friendly, apologizes too much, really likes the Cardinals, maybe a little younger than my parents. Hella nice tho, gets the heater installed quickly, and even offers to fix the floorboards it warped (after nearly tripping over the hump it made in the floor twice). Overall, a stress-free experience.

Then, as he's gathering up his tools - "So, I noticed your, uh, banner. Over your bed."*

*(The closet where my water heater is is located in my bedroom because I live in a mobile home, dude wasn't just wandering creepily into my bedroom)

He's referring to a giant pride flag that's hanging over my bed, with the words "Sounds gay, I'm in"

My anxiety spikes instantaneously, thinking oh christ I'm about to get hatecrimed or at least microaggressioned.

But then he says "Yeah, my daughter is gay, and I was wondering, like...where do you guys, ya know, meet up?"

What.

"Because she met her most recent girlfriend when she was in jail, and I keep asking why she doesn't just find a nice lesbian librarian or something and she said 'dad I know they're out there, I just don't know where'. So...like...where do you?"

So I ended up confessing to this nice man who installed my water heater that I don't know of any real gay culture in our mostly Baptist Missouri town of about 18,000 that routinely freaks out over pride displays in the library (I'm sure it exists but I'm lazy and haven't gone looking for it). My girlfriend lives in an area with a rather bustling gay community (we just did a face painting booth for their pride festival a few weeks ago), so maybe have her go out there with some friends, and also a lot of queers I know play dnd so maybe find a nice group of them and network. I then apologized that I wasn't more helpful in getting his daughter settled with a nice, wholesome dyke.

On the plus side, he was not deterred at all, and seemed to be very interested in the fact dnd was so popular amongst the el gee bee tees. I told him the names of some dms I know and told him to go to town. I do not know if the names will be given to his daughter or hoarded for himself so he can join a group and play like he did when he was a teenager and not be called satanic for it.

He's coming to fix my floor next week.