#danes get what they want

[saltygilmores]

I could say so many things about this completely bonkers scene straight out of Bonkersville which I decided to watch earlier. But a couple of special things stand out to me. 1) the quickness with which TJ flips that book out of Jess' hand. Like, that book does a fucking graceful somersault in the air and 2) the way Milo's Pre-Emo hair flippy-flops when Luke grabs him :)

[holland-vosijk-antari]

massive lack of sleep-induced ramble incoming:

been thinking more about the bonds between antari (from reading the telepathy between holland and ojka while osaron is in them) which makes me think about if the antari could telepathically communicate. firstly, holland would chose to Not Do That.... i can imagine a young kell who has learnt in a book that antari are meant to be able to talk across a bond and so he tries it and gets no response, he wonders if its him doing it incorrectly or if he's not strong enough yet so he keeps trying until eventually giving up. holland is very glad when he gives up because he would be trying to close his mind to the suffering he is experiencing only to be brought back to the surface by a small eager voice in his head saying "hello :) can you hear me?" and he knows if he responds whether it be kindly or harshly he will never have peace from it

on the other hand though, during agos before kell knows that lila is antari he thinks of her so often that she hers his voie in her head, lila of course has her suspicions that she may be antari but has no idea that such a connection is possible, so she considers these thoughts that sound alarmingly like kell as just a lingering attachment to him that she's desperately tried to sever. when they do figure it out though, people question how those two pirates (ahem, privateers) seem to always know what the other is thinking or what the other is about to do...

[disasterbiwriter]

I know we've all experienced the "I want someone to write the fanfic I want to read and I don't want it to be me" phenomenon, but it feels extra pathetic when it's a fic from your VERY SPECIFIC AU/canon.

[cuteniaarts]

@katkastrofa, circa 40-ish hours ago: Hey, what if our newest bunch of OCs adopted a baby from one of the other brothel girls who knew she couldn’t afford to raise one? That would make for some fun shenanigans :D

Me, with a notoriously non existent sleep schedule, instinct of self preservation or concern for my poor wrist: Alright, bet. Watch how fast I can make you fall in love with this hypothetical baby >:)

Daneli as a gentle and loving caretaker-turned-adoptive-mother is something that can be So Personal, actually, and originally I was going to leave it at this quick sketch, but then I got carried away thinking about what this child will grow up to be like raised by this little gang of misfits, so…

Here she is!! A little older and so, so beautiful, I need more of her in my life immediately, she’s way too precious

And, because I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t also add a sapphic element to this absolute cinnamon roll, a small crack ship that I’m only half serious about for when she’s a little older still:

All in all, we may be getting impossibly far from canon, but I for one already cannot get enough of sweet darling Kumisai <3

(I fully drew three pieces from scratch in 9 hours I cannot feel my brain or my hands anymore send help)

[softquietsteadylove]

It’s mistlefoe season… we need some spicy Thenamesh holiday content

"Wow."

Sersi smiled at Gil admiring the snow falling with his nose practically pressing his nose to her window. "It's been a while since you've seen it, I suppose."

"Don't know how many years," he murmured as he admired the gentle snowfall beginning to blanket London. "And it definitely wasn't with all the lights and stuff."

Sersi laughed faintly, "it actually is quite lovely. Dane loves the holiday season."

Gil turned away from the window and nodded, slipping his hands into his pockets, "does he have family traditions and stuff?"

"Dane has," Sersi paused smiling faintly, "interesting family lineage. But he does enjoy the usual human things--making cookies, gingerbread houses, themed films."

"Have fun," Gil waved to his sister as she waved to him on her way out. She had left him and Thena her flat while they were visiting, stating that it was no trouble since she stayed with Dane most nights these days anyway.

Dane had made the mistake of asking if they would like to use his flat's guestroom, to which Thena had told him directly that she preferred her own space should they wish to 'exercise physical intimacy'. Dane had gone rather red while Sersi had admonished Thena for deliberately embarrassing for her own amusement.

But having their own space was what they were used to, after all. Gil stepped away from Sersi's window and slowly moved towards her bedroom. Thena had immediately said her goodbye to Sersi and headed right to the bedroom.

She needed to prepare something, she said.

Gil drifted to the door and knocked gently, "you okay, hon? Can I come in?"

"Indeed."

Gilgamesh opened the door, ready to jump on the nice big bed and cuddle his wife after a nice day of visiting. He stopped short at the door, his hand dropping off the handle and his jaw opening. "Holy shit."

"It is customary to give gifts," Thena declared completely seriously from her place on the bed, sitting up with her legs curled in front of her and her hair twisted over her shoulder. "But we require nothing."

"Uh," Gil swallowed dryly, eyeing the long legs on the green duvet. "Y-Yeah."

"But when Sersi was in a cosmetics store," Thena continued in her borderline scientific explanation as he practically floated over to her. "They were saying that a man would appreciate most something...physical."

Gil just nodded, eyeing his wife's naked body with a ribbon tied around it. It was a wide, red thing, long and wound around her several times.

"This was what I purchased," she concluded, gesturing to the ribbon, and where it was attempting to bind and support her breasts like a mummy wrapping.

"I love it," Gil murmured completely dumbstruck, crawling onto the bed. "I love you."

Thena finally smiled, leaning forward only slightly to kiss him, letting him clamber over her in the centre of the bed and its many, many pillows. She laughed as they landed backwards, Gilgamesh kissing her loudly and hungrily. "Does this gift satisfy you?"

He pulled away to grin at her, touching the tip of his nose to hers before reaching for the end of the bow under her ribs. "Satisfies me every time, hon."

Thena received more of his kissing, as well as his tongue seeking out hers. "Eager."

"For you?" he grinned at her again, finally undoing the fine, silky ribbon and replacing its touch on her skin with his hands. "For this?--always."

Thena purred as he ran his hands down her waist and to her hips, helping her shimmy out of the remainder of the ribbon until she was completely exposed.

Gil nearly howled as he pulled it away, catching some evidence of her own eagerness sticking to the ribbon. He brought it to his lips, "I should unwrap it properly."

Thena leaned back against their many pillows, her hair tumbling around her as he parted her knees around his shoulder and licked up her thigh. "Gil."

He listened to her sighs become moans as he latched onto her, letting his tongue explore her as if for the first time, and not one of thousands upon thousands. He always liked to explore her body like it was a gift--he was well practised for this 'gifting season'.

"Gil," Thena panted, her back arching and her hips squirming as he pushed his tongue into her. She moved her hips against him as well, but his strength helped him keep her from bucking him away. "Gil, yes!"

He always liked to have a taste of her before the main course. She thought it was ridiculous that he would apply flavour analogies to their lovemaking. But it was his nature, and it was what he loved! And surely using his perfect palette on what he loved most in the world - her - was the best way to utilise it.

"Gil!" Thena arched her back up higher, lifting her hips to meet him more aggressively. "There, right there!"

He repeated exactly what she asked. His Warrior Eternal knew what she desired, and he liked that she took exactly that. He pushed his lips harder against her clit.

"Fuck!"

He liked it when she cursed, too. They sounded sexier when she did it.

Thena purred, shimmying around on top of the cotton sheets, her thighs trembling as he helped her lie more comfortably, her knees folding passively.

Gil leaned over her, kissing her again. "You good?"

"Hm," she responded in the affirmative. He pulled her into his embrace, letting her feel the weight of his chest against hers. She went to the trouble of rolling her head forward again to look at him. "Satisfied?"

"Very," he chuckled, kissing her again. "And I can't wait for us both to have the finisher."

Thena rolled her eyes at him calling the act of physical intercourse a 'finisher' to a 'tasting menu' again.

He kissed her again instead. He had torn his clothes off while she was recovering from her orgasm, not needing much time to throw them all away and leave him as bare as her.

Thena moaned against his lips, the sound travelling through them both as he pushed into her in the same breath. Her legs made room for him, her foot dragging up the back of his leg. She dragged her hands up his back, digging into the meat of his shoulders briefly before sinking into his hair.

Gil pushed his elbows into some of the many pillows around them to change his angle. Thena whined, changing the angle of her hips as well. "How long?"

"Hm?" she blinked, having had her eyes closed in bliss (which he always considered him doing a good job).

"How long?" he repeated, thrusting into her. He grasped the ribbon that was still stuck under them, pressing it between his thumb and knuckle. "When did you buy this? Were you really carrying it around all day?"

Thena merely nodded, not feeling the need to explain herself. Especially not her plan to seduce him with her naked body using ribbon from a craft store. "Hours."

He buried his face in her neck, nipping and then licking down to the dip of her clavicle. "Maybe it's good you didn't tell me. I'd have taken you into some changing room or something."

Thena grinned like a devil, "again."

Sersi had been so mortified that she had refused to exit the mall at the same time as them lest she be associated by witnesses. Thena had stated that the door was locked, so they were technically not indecent had they not 'called the authorities'.

"It was fun, though," he also smirked as he started moving faster. "Hey, we're on vacation."

"Honeymoon number...?" Thena prompted before letting her head fall back again, her hands linked behind his neck.

"Can't remember," he chuckled, picking up speed again. He bent his legs, helping him lean up so he could grasp her hips and really thrust hard and fast. "I'm thinking of other things--fuck!"

"Yes, almost, almost," she panted and gasped, digging her nails into him again. "Fuck me."

He loved it when she said that. "You comin' with me, sweetheart?"

Thena arched her back all the way off the bad, her toes spreading out and then curling. "Gil!"

She loved it when he called her sweetheart.

Gil followed her swiftly, needing only a few more moves to fall over the edge with her. He leaned over her again, letting their bodies writhe together, all the softness, all the hardness, all parts knocking into each other beautiful and ungracefully. "Fuck!"

Thena was happy to grind their hips together as they both rode out their highs. She undulated around him lazily, her hands drifting over him as she luxuriated in the sheer warmth of him.

He panted into the side of her cheek, her hair pillowing his head. He lifted his head to kiss under her jaw, "you good?"

"Entirely."

Then he had accomplished his mission. He nuzzled her again before leaning up. Thena wasn't going to bother moving at all unless he moved her himself.

She did whine faintly as he pulled away from her, bringing her legs together as he slipped out of her. "And where are you going?"

"We're not at home, Thena," he chuckled, retrieving a towel to dab at her sheening skin.

"And?" she sighed with a smile, letting him run it over her skin the way a cat would allow itself to be petted.

"And I'll make us something to eat too," he promised as a reward for enduring the bore that was aftercare. He wrapped her up in the duvet and pulled her up into his arms. "Sersi stocked the kitchen for me. I should make use of it, shouldn't I?"

"Very well," she sighed, letting him carry her with him for sustenance. "Shall we be returning after our meal break, then?"

If she wanted to, they could go all night. He kissed her forehead, "the gift that keeps on giving, right?"

[pyrriax]

hi tumblr im pyrr pyrriax and im in my trimonthly artist arc, lord help me and all the projects that are currently sitting in my drafts while i am lured in by the siren song of drawing

[ivyithink]

i am forever thankful that in tlk religions and beliefs seriously influence actions and views of the characters, but all seemingly mystical and supernatural things have logical explanations, making the world grounded in reality and viewing experience a lot less confusing

that said, i am a complete hoe for some scary supernatural religious horror imagery, so yeah

[applciuux]

I am studying abroad in Copenhagen and if jeremy doesn’t arrive back here before i leave i will be quite solemn on my plane ride home (it’s fine 😄😄😄😄😄😄).

[thehmn]

Just read a perfectly fine fanfiction that took place in Germany but something that stood out to me was a chapter where the characters walk across a field and is approached by the farmer yelling at them to get off his land.

I’ve come across this plot point a few times and I feel like it’s worth telling writers that most of Europe has some version of Right To Roam. The laws aren’t the same in every country but generally you’re allowed to walk and rest on private property like fields and forests so long as you don’t destroy crops or leave trash, but not gardens or fenced in areas. Depending on the country you also have the right to pick mushrooms, berries, nuts and other edible things in forests but without chopping trees down or breaking branches. The owner of the land might put up a sign asking you to follow certain guidelines like no horses or keeping your dog on a leash but but there’s no real repercussions to not following the rules besides the owner eventually fencing the area off so people can’t enjoy it anymore.

I’ve personally walked around on a field while the farmer was harvesting potatoes with his big ass machine and collected the leftovers while my dog was trotting calmly besides me and he looked straight at me and didn’t care one bit because Denmark also has an old tradition of letting people collect what’s left as a form of charity (for my fellow Danes, that’s what “rev vi marken let, det er gammel ret, fuglen og den fattige skal også være mæt” means in the song Marken Er Mejet) This is just a tradition and not a law however so it depends on the farmer.

The very north of Europe like Norway and Sweden even give people the right to put up tents and camp on other people’s private land (except gardens and such). Again, the laws vary from country to country but as a rule of thumb you have more right to roam the further north you go and less the further south but if you want to write in a specific country look up the laws there.

[gay-dorito-dust]

How’d they react to you calling them bro or dude whilst in a pre-established relationship…(platonic/romantic)

Dick: he’s insulted.

Gutted.

He will try to give you the silent treatment for such a shameful thing but ultimately fails as he ends up being the one pawing at you for attention.

‘Do you still like me? Or did you just run out of cute nicknames to call me?’ He’d say one night as your both cuddling in bed together. ‘If it’s the later then I can help you find something, just please spare me and don’t call me dude or bro anymore.’

He’d rather you call him Richard-wait, no he hates that even more because to him you’re not meant to use his fully name, only cutesy nicknames that’d make a grown man sick to his stomach. Nothing else would suffice other than Dickie bird, handsome, babe, hunk, honeybun or anything that wasn’t his name.

He’s go mad or would act delusional and say that everything was fine when everyone could tell that it wasn’t. People who know him have personally came to you and begged you to stop calling him dude/bro because he kept talking their ears off about how his beloved partner is torturing him, which ends up torturing them even more upon hearing about his relationship issues.

Dick would even consult Hayley on what he did wrong, only for Hayley to look at him with those big, big eyes of hers. This was not her level of expertise unfortunately. (Head empty, no thoughts. She can’t do her abc’s guys it’s a real tragedy.)

Jason: ‘I just had my tongue down your throat just now and you had to go and ruin the mood by calling me bro. What the fuck.’ - Jason at some point.

It’s a whole mood killer for him to be honest.

He’s calling you things like chipmunk or sweetheart but here you were calling him dude and bro. He knows for a fact that he’s well and truly out of the friend zone because the shit you’ve done together isn’t platonic in any sort of way.

Thinks Roy had set you up to call him dude or bro behind his back. (He hasn’t)

Jason is petty and will get his own back by referring you as ‘just a really good friend’, ‘buddy o’ mine’ or even worse than both of those; ‘chum.’ 💀

When you go low, Jason was more then willing to go to the depths of fucking hell to the point it had become a game to see who’d call out just how stupid this all was, and at the both of you for ever thinking that this was an excellent idea in the first place.

You’ll probs get punished…I’m just going to leave it there and let your minds guess what that ��punishment’ was exactly.

Damian:

As much as Damian hates it when you call him Dami, he hates it when you call him dude or bro even more, if that’s even possible.

Damian hates it when you call him dude or bro. He’s not your dude or bro, he’s your partner and he expects no less then darling, my heart or my beloved.

So you calling him dude or bro is more than enough reason for him to give you the silent treatment.

‘Until you learn that I am your partner, I won’t want to be anywhere near you if you’re going to keep calling me your bro or dude. It is a disservice to who I actually am to you.’ He says with a huff and beckons Titus to follow, only for the Great Dane to be left confused as to why his human parents were at a disagreement over something silly.

Also Titus, Ace, Jerry, Alfred the cat, Goliath and BatCow are children of divorce because I said so.

So it’s bests that you apologise while you still can because Damian can hold a grudge unlike any other. Even if you didn’t, you’d still crack first before Damian and quickly put an end to calling him dude/bro.

He just thinks being called a dude/bro when in a pre-established relationship is an insult.

He can take a joke but not when it’s aimed at his relationship. He’s well and truly devoted to his relationship -if we’re to completely ignore the whole being Robin thing- that it might as well be an insult towards him too at this point.

[itsbenedict]

horror movie that's a completely normal horror movie for 90% of the runtime, where the entire time you're yelling at the idiot protagonists to just get out of the obviously haunted location before they get killed by the ghosts. like, yeah, you bought this historic old mansion with antique suits of armor and everything, and you'd have wasted a lot of money if you abandoned it, but you're going to get killed, you morons.

the movie continues in this vein, friends and family disappearing in miscellaneous Ghost Incidents, until finally we're seeing the final girl fleeing the monster down a dead-end hallway, screaming as it approaches her-

-and then the ultimate revenant spirit steps in a loop of rope, which tightens around its ankle and hoists it up to the ceiling. two nearby suits of armor lift their visors and reveal a scruffy hippie-looking dude and what cannot be, but must be, a Great Dane.

"like, let's find out who this ghost really is!" the hippie knight says, and pulls a rubber mask off of the ultimate revenant, revealing none other than the realtor that sold the protagonists the mansion, who staged the whole haunting/movie in hopes of forcing the protagonists to just get out of the obviously haunted location before they get killed by the ghosts.

several teenagers the final girl has never met before suddenly arrive. a rich kid, a librarian-looking nerd, and a dweeb in an ascot flash back to all the haunting scenes to explain the elaborate practical effects used to fool them. after all is said and done, you're pretty sure nothing supernatural actually happened in the entire movie, except for how that dog just said, in English, that it wanted a sandwich.

[technoturian]

Regardless of my feelings about the BoS as a whole in the Fallout series, Maximus as a character exceeded all my expectations.

Maximus, honestly, to me, was the most nuanced and best acted character in the series. His situations were fantastical and yet the way he reacted to it all was so grounded. He was like a prestige drama character in a series full of cartoons. Don't get me wrong, I like the cartoons. Fallout leans heavily into parody and it's totally on brand. But Maximus' entire emotional arc was so understated and I really appreciated it.

He isn't a very vocal OR excessively emotive character because he knows being vulnerable hurts him. He shapes himself to that idealized memory of the knight in the armor even as he doesn't seem to really understand or care for the beliefs behind the armor. He's failing his classes as an aspirant. When talking of the BoS beliefs, he throws in a "or whatever". That part of it doesn't matter to him. The armor IS his belief system.

His whole story is about the cycle of violence and toxicity. The bullies who beat him. The abuse he endures. He wants power so that he can escape it but once he gets that chance he's doomed to perpetuate it, because that power is coming from the system. It's tainted. Deep down he doesn't want revenge, he doesn't even want power for power's sake, he wants safety. And he wants to be the hero from his memory, he wants the strength to save himself from this cycle.

And yet, he just keeps making he wrong choices. Over and over and over. He can't get out of it.

And then Lucy throws him a lifeline. And it takes someone from outside of the cycle to break through. And then he makes the choice to do the right thing even though it means making himself weaker, making himself less safe. He chooses to do the right thing for the first time in the show. And it means finally letting go of his dream, the armor.

And he sees a light at the end of the tunnel. He thinks his reward is going to be Vault 33, he's going to be safe and happy with someone who cares about him and makes him feel like a real, good person.

And by the end of the series, he's trapped in the cycle again.

There is just something so delicious about someone getting everything they wanted at the start and being miserable about it. There's something so REAL about wanting to be something but every instinct makes you sabotage yourself every step of the way.

And the thing is, he had all of these little moments of genuineness, selfishness, pettiness, virtue, I genuinely didn't know what he was going to do for most of the show. I thought he might turn on Lucy at some point. I honestly, truly thought he had sabotaged Dane even though Dane was his only friend. He is so morally hard to pin down because he's so full of life's little hypocrisies. His ideals and his feelings are in conflict so much and he doesn't have to look anguished for you to understand that. You just see it in his resigned stares, in his hesitance and his ultimate actions.

I just... I really loved Maximus. Bravo to Aaron Moten.

[razrbladekiss]

MAPLE HAZEL | Joel Miller

SUMMARY: he’s grumpy, and you’ve got enough happiness for the pair of you. you visit joel’s little coffee shop every morning, and he can’t deny that he enjoys the monotony of life with you the other side of his counter.

PAIRING: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

WORD COUNT: 1.8k

WARNINGS: inspired by lorelai gilmore and luke danes, so with that info do what you will. this is full on golden retriever x black cat realness. fluffy. banter-y. dialogue-y. joel is grumpy but he’s sexy so we don’t mind. enjoy, my besties. not sure if i’ll do a part two, but i’ll let you know in due time, of course.🍁🫶🏻

SERIES MASTERLIST

It’s like he’s moving from muscle memory. Putting down a cinnamon roll and maple hazel latte—with two extra shots of espresso—in front of the third purple stool at his counter, is almost ingrained into his brain. He wonders if one day you’ll ever take him by surprise and order pancakes, or a chai tea.

And you will. Just not today.

“Cinnamon roll, please!” You call from the door as you bumble over the threshold, fighting with the belt loop on your coat that’s gotten stuck on a brassy handle for the third time this morning.

“Already one step ahead of ‘ya.” Joel gestures to the breakfast spread at the wooden bar, and you smile.

Despite being a closed-off, stupid-person-hating, placid-at-times, grumpy old man, you can’t help admitting that you enjoy Joel’s company and general presence in your life.

His shop appeared on Birch Grove one sunny Saturday morning about three years ago, and you haven’t skipped a day since. Aside from Christmas Day, you have religiously sat at Joel’s counter and shared the trials and tribulations of life in Dallas as an overzealous twenty-something every single day.

He’s a great listener. Or, at least, you think that he is. He never interrupts you, or speaks over you. Joel always lends an ear to listen, even if he doesn’t always say all that much in response to whatever it is that you’re elucidating or complaining about.

“Thank you.” Breathlessly, you say. You take a seat and dump your purse onto the counter. “Got a busy day today. I’ve got a meeting, and I’m meeting Maria for lunch, and I’ve got a date—“

Joel’s face heats up. He turns to face you, striving to stay indifferent.

“A date?” Nonchalant, he asks. He slings a dish-cloth over his shoulder, and lifts a brow. “Does this man know that he’s going on a date with you?”

You make a face while stuffing a fork-full of pastry into your mouth. He’s so smug. With his stupid flannel and stupid little hat, you just want to rip the complacency from his lips. But he’s a good man. Just likes to try and take you down a few pegs.

But he can’t. Because you’re stubborn. And a little annoying.

“No, I just thought that I’d show up at his house in the middle of the night—because I’ve followed him home from work a few times and know where he lives—and rip him right out of his bed just like the troll that Danny Devito plays in Its Always Sunny.”

Joel let’s out a little laugh, not bothering to argue that what you had just told him didn’t actually happen in that episode, but finding it funny nonetheless.

He nods his head to you. “What’s his name?”

“Marcus.” Exaggerating your heart-eyed gaze, you tell him. “I met him at Costco—“

“Ah, Costco. Where every great love story starts. First you’re bulk-buying toilet paper, the next you’re sharing a dollar fifty hot dog—“

“Ha ha, Joel, you’re soooo funny.”

“I try.” He says, flippant, pouring coffee into another customer’s cup when they appear at the counter for a refill. He lifts the carafe and gestures to your almost-empty mug. “Want another?”

Your gaze is set on your wristwatch. It’s seven twenty-nine, and you need to be at work for nine thirty. Mentally you strive to figure out how much more time you can spend at the cafe, before you’re having to leave to get there on time.

“Is it maple hazel flavored?”

Joel tilts his head, glaring at you.

You swig the dregs of latte in your mug, and then push the polka-dot ceramic across to him. “Please.” You say, shyly.

Joel busies himself with customers, and general business-owner things for a few minutes while you finish your cinnamon roll and coffee. You can’t help watching him.

Because he’s great. He’s very caring—though extremely stern at times—and you know that if you’re having a bad day, Joel is only a two minute and thirteen second walk away.

He feels the same, too. Kind of. He knows that you’ll be sauntering into his shop at some point every day, and finds himself looking forward to seeing your wide-eyed gaze and larger-than-life smile.

And though he won’t admit it in so many words, Joel has a soft spot for you. It hasn’t always been apparent—he thought that you were utterly insufferable and obsessive when he first met you—but he can’t deny the fact that his life would be very dull without you.

Even if you do have a tendency to try to get underneath his skin.

“Are you dating, Joel?”

He rolls his eyes.

“What? It’s a very normal question to ask somebody that hasn’t been in a serious relationship for an entire twelve months.”

He pulls the cloth from his shoulder and wipes at his hands. “You and I both know that I ain’t got no interest in settlin’ down with anyone. Not yet, anyway.”

“You were willing to with Tess.” Pushing things a little, you say. You lift the coffee mug to your lips when Joel opens his mouth to chastise you, but he can’t.

He can’t because you’re right. He can’t because he wanted to, once upon a time. Before Tess walked out of his life—not long after you started frequenting his shop—he wanted it all. A wife, kids, the white picket fence that his parents had back in Austin when he was a kid.

But it doesn’t always work out that way, and Joel has learned to live with the idea that if it’s too good to be true, then it most likely is.

“I can set you up with someone—“

“Not happening.” He says. “Last time you sent me on a blind date, the girl asked me if I was into pegging.”

You giggle. “Well? Are you—“

Joel says your name, glaring pointedly.

“Sorry.” Instinctively, your lips are set into a straight line. “But I can totally do better, this time. I know this girl—she works at this law firm—and—“

“Not interested.”

“Okay.” You smile, tight-lipped. You lift your mug, striving for your third cup of coffee this morning.

Joel pours the liquid gold into the cup, before he’s telling you that he’s not going to be giving you another for fear of you ricocheting off of each wall in his place.

“You’ll turn into a cup ‘a coffee one day.”

Nodding—with a completely content smile—you say; “least I’ll be happy.”

“You’re always happy.” Joel mithers to himself, turning away. It’s one thing that he admires about you, though loathes at the same time.

Endless optimism and positivity is only something that he can long for, because he’s simply not capable of it. It baffles him how you are, especially when he’s—on occasion—so rude to you. So miserable, and cold, and completely undeserving of your friendship.

He likes that you’re so forgiving. That—even after he accidentally offended you last summer when making a comment about your then boyfriend—you can never hold a grudge, especially when it comes to him.

Because you both hold one another on a pedestal so high, neither can seem to do anything to tear themselves down. And Joel really enjoys your daily routine. That’s why he’s never not in the shop.

“You got any weekend plans?”

“Never do.”

You stretch out your arms—intertwining your fingers as you do to make them click—and offer a small smile when he cringes.

“You wanna catch a movie?” Shirking the idea that you have a date tonight—with a man who you really aren’t all that interested in, you’re just being nice—you propose.

Joel’s heart starts to beat at a tempo that’s noticeably quicker than usual. Not a lot, but it’s certainly faster.

“I think that the theatre downtown is showing the original Beetlejuice, on Saturday.”

He nods, approving. “I—uh—I’ll have to get someone to cover—“

“I’m sure you can ask your brother. Or maybe Maria?”

“I ‘spose.” Reluctant, he says. “But what about Michael? What if he wants a second date?”

“Well, his name is Marcus. And if he wants a second date—which I doubt he will—then he’ll just have to live with the fact that I have plans with a friend on Saturday night.”

He hopes that you can’t see him blush.

“Won’t it be weird?”

“Why?”

“We hardly speak outside of the shop.”

“God, Joel.” You throw your head back, laughing. “We’re the same people wherever we are. And we’re going to the movies—not a lot of talking takes place there, hon.”

His nostrils flare at your sarcasm, but mainly at the little pet name. Joel knows that you’re sweet—that you often use those terms of endearment when speaking with those that you care about—but it does something to him.

Something that he does not like.

“You can either come, or stay here and be miserable because you have no social life, or no girlfriend, or no other friends aside from me, your brother, and your brother’s wife—“

“Alright, fine.” Joel stops your miniature hate-train, and puts his hands against the counter. Your eyes zone in on the veins embellished within tan skin—how prominent they are when he’s fronting irritation—and let out a small sigh.

He’d be a lot more handsome if he smiled more, you think.

“So.” You paw at your purse, pulling it off the wood. “I’ll let you know what time the showing is, and we can make plans around that.”

Joel rounds the island and follows you as you pad toward the door, veritably sweating. “Plans?” He asks. “You never said nothin’ ‘bout plans. I thought we were just gonna catch a movie?”

“We are.” You tell him. “But we need to buy snacks, and grab dinner before we go—“

“Now you’re just describing a date.”

You shake your head. “No, I’m describing hanging out with a friend, Joel.”

“A friend?”

“An acquaintance…?” Testing the waters, you ask. Your eyes squint a bit, awaiting his retort.

But he just smiles.

“A friend.”

You smile back. Bigger.

“Perfect.” Your purse is slinging over your shoulder, and you pull your jacket to close so that the darned loops don’t get stuck on the door handle. Again. “I can’t wait.”

“It’ll be…nice.”

“Jeez, Joel. At least try to sound enthused.”

His hands shoot up in defense. “I am. Just have a hard time showin’ it.”

Your head nods. “I know. I’m only kidding. It’s nobody’s fault that you’re the human equivalent of Oscar The Grouch—“

“Alright, get out.” He holds open the door for you, smiling tight-lipped as he watches you leave. “Enjoy your meeting. And your lunch. And your date.”

You chuckle, thanking him with another bright smile.

“See you in the morning, Joel.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You step onto the sidewalk—that’s festooned with red and orange leaves as the tree above starts to shed its skin—turning to wave at him. “See ‘ya, kiddo.”

[octopiys]

Lost and Found

I. roll call and rainy nights

Next

Maybe Simon doesn't have any kids. Not yet at least. Maybe he doesn't know anyone we'll enough, or maybe he's not sure if he wants them in the first place.

But I'll tell you what.

Every time he goes on leave, without fail, he has an army of critters showing up to his house in the country. He never turns anything out to the streets, or to the cold night. The bottom of his pantry is stock full of dog and cat food. He's got three bird feeders in his back yard. There's four refillable water bowls by his garage.

The raccoons show up first without fail. They're named One and Deux, and they just recently had a baby named Tres. Hes pretty sure they live on his roof. He checked his cameras one night, after a long mission, and found them holding up Tres to the camera.

He didn't cry about that, what are you talking about?

Then the dogs show up. They're all mutts of varying sizes. One looks like some sort of lab, named Dog. Another is about the size of a pomeranian, but looks like a shaggy chihuahua. That's Barrow. He found her in his garden shed. She's got a mean bite, but a sweet face. The third is a big dog, almost the size of a Dane, but... not. He's not very smart. He's named barkmulch. Get it, cus- cus he barks- the fourth has gone unnamed. It's a furry little white thing, and it yaps at him a lot, nipping at his ankles anytime he enters the room. Behave, and it'll get a name.

There are a few cats that show up too. None of them have names except for one: Scraggle.

Scraggle is the ugliest fucking thing you can imagine. Scraggle is that shade of grey that white cats get when they're dirty, except you can't wash it off. The poor cat is missing patches of fur, and it seems permanent. It only has one eye. It's nose is flat, and gives it's face the illusion of a squished tomato. There's a scar going from it's whiskers, across it's nose and up to it's missing eye. Simon doesn't actually know what gender this cat is. It is only Scraggle.

Scraggle is also... very stupid, as far as cats go. It gets squished between the couch cushions, and yowls when Simon accidentally sits on him. How could he have seen him anyways? Scraggle screams when his food bowl is empty. Scraggle screams when everyone else's food bowls are empty. Scraggle screams when it manages to find it's way on top of the kitchen cabinets, and needs Simon's help to get down. Scraggle is a full time job when he's off duty.

Scraggle is his favorite.

He finds you in the rain.

Not nearly as run down as the rest of his animals, but just as lost.

Covered in scratches, blood, and muck, he finds you on the edge of his property, being screamed at by Scraggle, because it doesn't do much else.

Your clothes are torn, and you look a bit more haggard than you should. Wet, and cold, and hungry. Like you had missed a turn off the trails, or you were running away from them. From something.

You look up at him with wide eyes, but decide to trust him, to follow him like a lost creature, because he could not be worse than what you escaped from.

He makes soup. He gives you soup.

He's not the best conversationalist. He's not used to things he finds actually talking back to him in a language he can understand.

You tell him your name. He calls you Honey. You'll earn your name. Behave, you'll get it.

Scraggle is on thin ice with you. Attention stealer. Food giver. You get the cat down from places it shouldn't be. But Simon pays more attention to you than he does Scraggle. You fool. Scraggle is all. Scraggle is life.

You don't leave, much like the other things he feeds. You make yourself useful, because you're afraid of being turned out. If you're useful, then nothing will happen. And you go to bed every night warm with a full belly.

You're just another lost thing he's taken in. You don't leave when he disappears. You know he'll come back. He always does.

And he watches the cameras, while he's on a mission. He watches you diligently fill the bowls, the bird feeders, the waters, the bath. You trot out to the fish pond, and throw handfuls of feed out in the early hours of the night. Then you make your way back through the tall grass, and into the house.

Scraggle screams. You feed it too, and then pick it up. And carry it around like it's a little baby.

Hm. Maybe....

You were a sweet like honey, a pretty little thing. You weren't lost anymore. He'd found you, you're his now.

He'll take care of you.

Scraggle agrees. Scraggle likes you too.

masterlist

[icarusredwings]

Thinking about this quote I saw where it said "You're so sweet but you have teeth that only a hunter could have. Here, Let me help you try them out. You can have a taste of me" or something and it's supposed to be a very complicated quote about helping someone find themselves knowing that they're going to bite the hand that feeds them and yet you do not mind because you know that the bite is not meant to be aggressive.

It makes me think about how willing Wade is to let Logan be animalistic around him to the point of letting him hurt him and bite him simply because Wade understands what it's like to be forced to hide your true self and how lonely it must have been for Logan to have to restrain his rough play style because he didn't want to hurt anyone.

I think this is one of the most beautiful parts of the Fox sculpture scene and the van scene. Where Logan realizes that he has a playmate now, and while he doesn't WANT to hurt Wade, but he CAN because it doesn't have any real consequences. He can be as feral as he wants with Wade, bite him, scratch him, kick him, and yet Wade comes back for more every time. Asks him to play rough, begs Logan to show him his true self, something he's not used too and is suspicious about.

And at the end of the day, even if it does hurt like a bitch, Wade forgives him and praises him for being himself (Wade saying hes a good big strong boy when he skewers Cassandra).

I think of it, like when a dog finds a dog who matches his play style despite other dogs not enjoying the pushy and tackling methods. But Wde does. He'll tackle Logan right back because these two morons are very rough at their core.

Imagine a Mastiff only living with chihuahuas and getting told off for playing too rough all the time but this mastiff meets an equally rough great dane and become perfect playmates.

THAT is Logan.

Or imagine your cat is running around with zoomies and bites your arm. That's Logan too.

THAT'S why they go from fighting to playing to fucking. It's only half the fact of it being hot and attractive, but also it emotionally validates Logan, making him feel understood, cared for and loved. What is the best way to show someone you want them to be themsleves? Idk let them stab you I guess?? But don't do that.

Also, funfact various species do this, including humans. Many people prefer playing and understanding behavior before deciding to sleep with someone, Wolverines are not any different.

[pyrriax]

for the ask game 13 <3

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy?

Okay honestly? I find writing about close interpersonal relationships to be absolutely so difficult, since I have trouble discerning what steps into the "reads as romance/romantic". So, I find it mostly difficult because I want to ensure clarity of intent, and that's just an absolute bitch sometimes.

But! On the easy end? It's a bit of an odd one, but I've always found writing about death / decay to be easy. It just comes naturally to me, and it's so interesting to write about. Choosing the words to evoke the image and display how it is. [Also I think it's interesting to figure out who is/isn't familiar with the sights, smells, and textures associated with decay & death. I didn't used to think that rot would smell sweet but it can, depending on what's rotting]

I mean, this is one of my favorite examples:

Until a figure claws its way up the stone of the drainage hole, matted and bloody brown hair and sawed off horns, nonexistent eyes and blood staining... Everything. It steps uneasily, staggering toward him one foot at a time, hunched and stinking of decay. He can hear the way its breaths whistle through the gaping hole in its sternum, how it gasps for air with lungs that can't fill. The horrible squelching of skin barely hanging onto muscle that's all but rotted away, but the expression on its soulless face rested helpless, hopeless, lifeless. 

That's just one of those things that's so easy to write and I enjoy <3 Just personal taste lol