#if these are the measures i have to take to avoid that?

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Writer!reader and Logan? What's he doing

Laura gave Logan a measured look and he scowled, "What?" "You want this or not?" she said holding up an appointment card between two fingers.

He reached for it and she snatched it back, "If you go, you can't be a dick."

"Listen-"

"I did NOT pretend I needed a ride to get this for you just for you to fuck it up," she said. HER Logan was an asshole. But her Logan would have cut his own throat before he'd have not raised his kid. This Logan was a variant but- she wasn't stupid. It was eating him up not being able to do more than the bare minimum. Only hearing how you were doing through the grapevine.

His scowl deepened but he nodded, taking the card when she offered it back. "Thanks," he said gruffly.

"Don't fuck this up," she warned. Vanessa was going to rat him out to Wade if he didn't do something fast.

_________________

Logan parked his bike on the street and took a deep breath. He didn't tell you he was coming. You could still throw him out- or not let him go back with you. But. He felt like he SHOULD go. Or try to go. Because he knew the truth. And it was a shitty thing to do to avoid this, even if you'd let him off the hook- told him until you were blue in the face it wasn't his baby.

He opened the door and let himself inside, you were fidgeting and filling out paperwork. And he let himself watch you for just a second. Trying to gauge what kind of state you were in. Nervous. You were nervous. Tired. On edge. Your nails were bitten to the fucking quick- he exhaled sharply and crossed the floor coughing to attract your attention, "Hey, bub."

"Logan-"

"I uh- felt like the right thing to do," he said, feeling like an idiot. He picked up your purse of the chair next to you and sat down, putting it in his lap. "Didn't want you to be alone."

You worry the non-existent thumbnail of your right hand in your teeth and Logan reaches over and takes your hand carefully. "I don't want to do this here," you mumble.

"We're not," he said, smoothing his thumb over your knuckles. "We're just going to make sure everything is okay. Okay?"

"Okay," you murmur, looking back down at your clipboard to check over everything and starting to get up, but Logan takes it for you and takes it back to the receptionist before coming to sit next to you. Holding your hand again. Stroking your knuckles, your wrist, your palm, tracing little nonsense patterns. Trying not to let his own anxieties take over.

When you're called back, he follows. Not sure what else to do, you hadn't told him not to. Or yelled at him. Or pulled away. He didn't know how to read this. But- At least your heartbeat is slowed down a little. That's good. He's not making it worse.

Laid on a table with your abdomen exposed, all he can do is stroke your hair and breathe. He knows talking is happening. That it's important but he can't focus. All he can do is watch you and the screen and hate himself. He's got two fragile lives in his hands now.

And when you needed him the most he pussed out. And worse- you KNEW he did. He should be able to kiss you right now. To take you to lunch and then to do anything you wanted. Instead, he's stuck. Frozen in place and not sure what he can do right now as you lay there with tears sliding down your face- what you'll let him do. All he could do was sit. Like a fucking idiot.

"Hungry?" He asked, on the sidewalk, wondering if your jacket was thick enough.

"I've got a pot roast in my crock pot," you mumble, tucking your arms around yourself.

"Gonna be a while til that gets done, isn't it?" he asked, stepping closer to block the wind.

You nod, "But I had some oatmeal. And a cookies and cream Hershey's."

"That's not breakfast," Logan snorted.

"It is when that's all you want to eat."

Logan rolled his eyes, "They definitely got their fucking taste buds from you," he said. But he made a mental note to bring you a fucking cookies and cream goddamn candy bar. At least every couple days.

"Stressed spelled backwards-"

"Uh-huh," he said, taking your keys out of your hand gently, "Come on, bub. Let's get some real food in you real quick."

"You don't have to-"

"I do have to," he sighed. "Because you don't trust me. Because you're knocked up with my kid and you can't look at me. And I don't know- You needed me and I left you. But." He took deep breath, "I'm not leaving you again. And I'm going to stay. And I'm going to keep trying until you believe me."

[pizzabox-box]

I feel like when Peppino realizes that constantly yelling at Peppi-no for taking his place isn't the best solution for getting him to confess, it's already gonna be too late.

Like what if eventually Peppi-no gets to a point where the constant guilt of what he did just... breaks him. He just gives up. He finally goes out and announces what he did, and when one or more of Peppino’s friends inevitably come to take revenge, he does... nothing. He doesn't try to fight it, he doesn't try to run away, he just sits there, accepting his fate...

And Peppino sees this all happening. He got what he wanted. Peppi-no finally told the truth. Everyone finally knew what he did. Peppi-no was finally facing the consequences of his actions... But he didn't feel any better. In fact, he felt worse. Staring at Peppi-no's broken face as he just sat there, waiting to die... He had been trying so hard to avoid this very thing, to avoid these consequences so that he wouldn’t get hurt, but now, Peppino had pushed him so far that he didn't even care anymore...

What has he done...?

That would certainly be an interesting turn of events! How far is Peppino willing to go to get justice? As I stated before, breaking Peppi-no is not his intention. (He's a vengeful ghost, but he still has some humanity in him.) However, if things continue as they are, he’s going to resort to increasingly more and more drastic measures.

Peppino is going to insist that the truth must come out, while Peppi-no will do everything he can to prevent it. And this will continue until one of them finally snaps—or the truth slips out! Either way, the truth will eventually come to light.

I can't really imagine Peppi-no just giving up. He's very stubborn and will do anything to keep the "Peppino train" going. He's willing to go to great lengths to keep his secret. Let's just say that if a character Peppi-no deems unimportant and easily disposable were to find out the truth, he would silence them for good. He's genuinely sorry for what he did, but he's also trying to save his own skin. (Otherwise, he would have already come forward with the truth by now.)

Also, side note: Fake Peppino—and by extension, Peppi-no—is very hard to kill. So unless they bring out a flamethrower, he would just be waiting for a beatdown.

(That's a reasonable punishment, if you ask me!)

At the end of the day Peppino just wants justice.

[s0fter-sin]

soapghost circus au

ghost’s an extreme motorcycle stunt performer - globe of death, riding on his back wheel along tightropes, that sort of thing

soap’s a fire breather/dancer. he’s a roaming performer; he just finds empty spaces or bored people and starts twirling

he pretends not to notice the way he always wanders towards a certain tent every night to watch a certain masked daredevil defy gravity. he thinks he's slick and that ghost won't notice him in the crowd, completely forgetting that he's carrying something that happens to be on fire

ghost couldn't miss him if he tried

one day off, soap's trialing fire whips; he loves the loud crack and the way the flame licks through the air and maybe he's a little too impatient to practice with non flaming whips first, even though he's never used one before

he's covered in soot and fine welts where the tip of the whip keeps flicking back up at him, cutting through his shirt and stinging his skin but he doesn't let that stop him. it starts to stick to him, damp with sweat and blood and he's quick to strip it off; throwing it to the side to keep practicing

when soap finally gets a few good cracks in a row and breaks to celebrate, he almost jumps out of his skin when he sees the masked rider leaning against a trailer watching him

of all the times he's wanted ghost to talk to him, this is not one of them

he wanted to impress him, dance for him with his flaming batons and be mesmerised by his fluidity and skill

not catch him filthy and struggling with something as basic as a whip

he's ready for ghost to ream him out for not having control over the whip - he's known throughout the circuit for expecting utter perfection in his routines - but when ghost finally does speak, it's only to ask if he's done for the day

soap falters for a moment. he wanted to get some consistency with the whip before he stopped, but he's starting to feel the hours of practice; muscles aching and skin blistered with minor burns

he says he is and ghost pushes off the trailer, nodding his head to make soap follow. he brings him back to his trailer and tells him to clean up then takes out his personal med kit to treat the grazes on soap's skin

soap's shocked; for all that he loves to watch ghost perform, they've never really talked before

part of why he joined the circus was so he wouldn't be a burden on anyone, the oldest in a family with too many mouths to feed and not even time to nurture, and here he is taking up ghost's valuable practice time bc he wasn't good enough to handle his own discipline. he tries to brush him off, downplaying the burns and tries to leave before half them can be treated but ghost just glares and orders him to sit back down

ghost does expect perfection from himself but it isn’t out of any malice or ego; it's bc he knows if he isn't perfect, he could very easily die. he’s picked a dangerous profession and he gives it the respect it deserves. there isn't any shame in being a novice or failing at something; he thinks there's a lot of beauty in having the courage to get back up again and again

so every day he watches soap practice and bullies him into his trailer to put him back together bc he knows he won't do it by himself

and every night soap wanders over to ghost's section of the fair grounds, in awe of his skill and wishing he could be worthy of the care he gives him

[dreamlogic]

got a good grade at the dentist today against all odds 😇 it's been uuuhhhh 8 years since my last check-up (i know, i know, i have a final boss-sized mental block against dental care), but i have NO new cavities, only a tiny bit of gum recession, and LESS gum inflammation than my last visit! all i need is a basic cleaning, to have a couple existing fillings touched up, and to be fitted for a night guard. the hygienist said she was "surprised and impressed" that my mouth was so healthy, which the dentist herself attributed to "very good home care." 😌😏

[thebirdandhersong]

this would be torturous if it weren't so funny :)

[safehaven3d]

i really need to move past my body recomp era, the scale not moving is killing me

[toytulini]

god im not starting shit on the post but "medical and pharmaceutical companies thank you for your long term patronage" really does not work as a thing to shame anti maskers. this is not a system i get to opt out of even by masking. unfortunately, i really dont think masking is pwning the predatorily priced healthcare system in the usa. especially considering how many of the ppl who are still doing it are unfortunately beholden to it anyway for some other fucking reason. fuck, even if i didnt have medications i take everyday anyway, the company i buy n95s from is a fucking medical /surgical supply company? its such a weird. just. no.

[rovermcfly]

I'll be honest, a pulse oximeter is not something I thought I'd ever have to purchase

[giantkillerjack]

Good afternoon! What kind of characters or tropes do you wish you could see more of?? [Ex. More Trans characters; More witches; More himbos]

AND/OR: What kind of characters or tropes would you like to see LESS of? [Ex. Less Trans characters who have to live lives of misery; Less "evil" witches; Less characters played by Mark Wahlberg]

AKA what i need in my life are anti-capitalist trans witches who live lives of joy and community and also some himbos are there! HELL YEAH!!! ....... *ahem*. You don't have to be that specific, but hopefully you get the idea!

[dan-crimes]

How advertisers think people react to ads: Oh wow! How convenient I love ads this is exactly what I needed to see today time to use money on this !!

How people actually react to ads: Fuck you fuck you fuck you *furiously tapping the screen desperately trying to get rid of the fuckin ads*

[yeleltaan]

//As is usually the case around this time of the year, I’m terribly busy with studies and it’s been hard for me to do things on the blog in the little spare time I have, I can’t focus very well.

It will pass soon, and hopefully after that I can resume the work of giving this blog a little more life. The itch to write is still there and I can’t wait to be free to scratch it.

[shattered-crystals]

vanilla's first time fronting in nearly five months and immediately he sees someone talk about how disgusting his source is. we do need one singular rule actually and it should be "don't look at your source's fandom tag!!! stop it!!!!!! you're going to be upset!!!!!!!!"

[kbwrites]

Heated Waters

synopsis: being married is hard, being married without seeing each other is even harder.

⚝ content: Hiromi Higuruma x F! Reader, nsfw, bathtub sex, fingering, Hiromi neglects his wife, but boy does he make up for it

⚝ wc: 1.9k

“Yeah we do it pretty much every day.”

Satoru said, taking a leisurely sip of his water. His pale face alight with mischief, a shit-eating grin across his lips. His three coworkers stared at him in (jealousy) disbelief.

Suguru was the first to break the silence, wanting to save face “Everyday is a bit much, isn’t it, Satoru?”

Satoru chuckled, his blue eyes glinting with amusement as he watched his friend squirm. "What about you guys? How often do our married friends get it in?" His gaze flickered to Nanami, who cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses, his eyes fixed on the steam rising from his coffee cup.

“Twice a week, I suppose…”

Satoru's smile widened, clearly entertained by the responses he was drawing out. He then turned his attention to the oldest among them, Hiromi Higuruma, who was carefully straightening his tie, a subtle attempt to avoid eye contact.

“What about you, Higuruma?”

“Your wife, (Y/N) is a little younger than you, right? C’mon Higuruma-San…She a total freak?” Satoru teased.

Hiromi's jaw tightened, a flicker of irritation crossing his features as his grip on his coffee cup tightened. He took a slow, measured breath, his voice strained but controlled when he finally spoke.

“Please don’t talk about my wife like that.”

But Satoru, ever the instigator, didn’t back down. “It’s just us guys riiggght? And I can’t lie Higuruma, you’re one lucky guy. (Y/N) is a catch.”

Nanami nodded in agreement, as did Suguru, though both seemed to sense the discomfort growing in Hiromi. The older man could only sigh, his shoulders sagging under the weight of the conversation.

It was true—you were everything he could have ever wanted in a partner. Beautiful, intelligent, kind-hearted—his perfect match. If heaven existed, Hiromi was certain you’d be the only one worthy of it.

But long nights in the office, and early mornings preparing for court would take a toll on any relationship. The truth was… Hiromi hadn’t touched you in over a month. By the time he came home—you were fast asleep, and weekends were spent running the mountain of errands you couldn’t get to during the week. You loved each other of course, but it was hard. A month without feeling the warmth of your husband's hands all over your skin was starting to weigh heavily on both of you.

“You don’t have to answer Higuruma-san..” Nanami chimed in, sensing his elder colleague’s discomfort.

“Over a month.” Hiromi exhaled, the truth slipping out before he could stop it.

The room fell silent, the weight of his words sinking in.

“WHAT?” Gojo audibly gasps. “Your wife looks like THAT and you haven’t f—”

Suguru swiftly cut him off with a well-placed elbow to the chest. “Satoru… leave Higuruma alone.” The long-haired male warns. “Still, that is surprising.”

“I know I know..” Higuruma pinches his bridge. He wanted nothing more than to have his wife under him… on top of him. But the endless stream of work kept him trapped in a cycle of exhaustion. “I’ve been so busy I can’t even remember the last time I actually spoke to her properly.”

Suguru offered an apologetic smile. “Sounds like you need a break.”

“Sounds like you need some puss—” Nanami quickly elbowed Satoru in the chest before he could finish his sentence.

Hiromi shook his head, letting out a dry chuckle as he ran a hand through his dark locks, clearly frustrated with himself. “I appreciate your concern, guys, but I don’t see how I can take a break right now. I have so much work to do, and I’m the only one who knows how to handle all of it.”

“Higuruma-San. Satoru will take care of the paperwork for you.” Nanami suggested with a deadpan expression.

“HUH?” Satoru blurted out, clearly caught off guard by the sudden assignment.

“Yeah,” Nanami continued, ignoring Satoru’s protest. “It’s not like he actually does any work around here anyway.”

Suguru smirked, nodding in agreement. “That’s true. You might as well make yourself useful, Satoru.”

Before Hiromi could protest, the trio moved in unison—Suguru grabbing Hiromi’s briefcase, Nanami steering him toward the door, and Satoru sighing dramatically as he resigned himself to the task.

“Are… are you boys sure about this? I don’t want to burden you–”

“Nonsense! Go home and take care of your wife!”

Hiromi placed his briefcase by the door, his tie feeling suddenly too tight around his neck. He loosened it with a sigh, running a hand through his hair as he glanced around. The familiar scent of home greeted him. It was comforting yet bittersweet, a reminder of all the moments he had missed. The living room was tidy, the soft hum of the dishwasher running in the kitchen. You had clearly been busy, taking care of the house as you always did, even when he wasn’t around.

“Honey?” Hiromi calls out to you, his voice echoing slightly in the stillness.

Frowning, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the back of a chair before making his way down the hall. As he approached the bathroom, he noticed a faint light seeping out from under the door, accompanied by the sound of water gently lapping against the tub.

He hesitated for a moment, then slowly opened the door.

The sight that greeted him made his breath catch in his throat. There you were, reclining in the bathtub, your eyes closed, head resting on the edge as steam rose around you. The soft glow of candles illuminated the room, casting a warm, serene light over your features.

You looked so peaceful, so beautiful—that it almost hurt to look at you. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly as he took in the sight, but the guilt and longing only deepened. How long had it been since he’d taken the time to appreciate you like this? Since he’d been able to just… be with you?

You opened your eyes, gaze meeting your husband as he leaned against the door frame.

“Hiromi?” you murmured, your voice soft, almost questioning, as if unsure whether he was really there or just a figment of your imagination.

“Hey Honey…” his voice equally soft, as he took a tentative step closer. The warmth of the room seemed to wrap around him, melting away some of the day’s stress.

“You’re home early.” You muse, looking at him as you rested your arms on the tub. He doesn’t respond, just walks towards you with purposeful steps.

Hiromi stares down at you with half-lidded eyes.“The guys decided I need a break.” He paused, his breath hitching slightly as he continued, “Can I join you?” A playful smirk tugged at the corner of your lips.

“Only if you take off your clothes this time.”

A dry chuckle escaped his lips as he unbuttons his dress shirt, letting each article of clothing fall to the tile floor. As he finally sheds his boxers before settling behind you. You exhaled softly, the tension you’d been holding onto for weeks dissipating as you sank into your husband’s embrace.

Hiromi didn’t waste a moment, his lips finding the sensitive skin of your neck, placing lazy, lingering kisses along the curve where your shoulder met your throat. His breath was warm against your skin, his kisses slow and unhurried, as if savoring every second, every inch of you.

His hands weren’t idle either, tracing gentle patterns along your stomach, moving upwards to cup your breasts with a tenderness that made your breath hitch. He nipped lightly at your earlobe, his voice a husky murmur, “I’ve missed you… more than you know.”

“Missed you too ‘Romi..” Your voice trembling as the almost foreign heat began to pool in your core.

Deft fingers teased your nipples, rolling and pinching—eliciting a soft moan from your lips as your body arched into his touch. Your hand reached back, tangling in his dark locks, pulling him closer as his lips traveled down to your shoulder, his other hand snaking under the water to your aching cunt.

“ahhhh… s-shitt..” You cry out as Hiromi’s fingers slowly circle your swollen bud. His touch light, teasing.

“Thirty-two days… I’m so sorry m’love.” He mumbles into your shoulder as he slips a slender digit into your entrance. Your walls flutter immediately around the intrusion, as he gently pumped into you.

He adds another finger, curling up to the spot he had neglected all those weeks. He extended his thumb to rub your clit. You arch your back against him, feeling his cock twitch against your ass.

“Hiro…” you moan, reaching behind for him, but he bites down lightly on your shoulder.

“Not yet, pretty girl, want you t’cum first okay?”

He whispers as he feels your gummy walls clench around him.

He speeds up his ministrations, digits stuffing your cunt as your pussy throbs and squelches. Your whimpers echo around the tiled walls, water lapping around your bodies.

You feel the pressure building as each thrust of his long fingers brush against your g-spot.

“g-gonna cum!”

“Cum f’me sweetheart please—god… need it so bad.” Hiromi mumbles as he pumps even faster.

“a-ahh!” you cry as you reach your high, walls clenching as you cum on your husband’s hand. He removes his fingers from you, moving to gently circle your clit as you come down from your orgasm.

You both stay there for a moment, your heavy breathing the only sound occupying the space, mingling with the gentle slosh of water against the porcelain tub. Hiromi’s arms wrapped securely around your waist, pulling you closer.

Slowly, he lifted you, the warm water swirling around you both as he maneuvered you to face him, settling you on his lap. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, your knees pressing against the cool sides of the tub.

You straddled Hiromi, your bodies now fully aligned, chest to chest. Your husband's dark, half-lidded eyes bore into yours, his expression a mixture of raw need and unspoken tenderness. He let his hands rest on your waist for a moment, thumbs tracing gentle circles against your damp skin as he took in the sight of you.

“I don’t know how I’ve stayed away from you for so long…” his voice breaking slightly as if the admission pained him.

Your breath hitched as you shifted slightly in his lap, feeling the tension between you intensify. Hiromi’s hands slid up your sides, his touch deliberate and slow, leaving a trail of heat in their wake as his lips finally found yours. The kiss was deep, full of hunger that had been simmering between you both for far too long.

His grip on your waist tightened as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours in a dance that left you dizzy with need.

Breaking the kiss, Hiromi leaned his forehead against yours, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

“I won’t make that mistake again.”

Without a word, he rose from the tub, lifting you effortlessly into his arms. Water cascaded down your bodies, pooling at your feet as he carried you toward the bedroom, his lips trailing wet kisses down the side of your neck.

He laid you gently onto the bed, your back sinking into the soft silken sheets, but Hiromi didn’t waste any time. His gaze darkening as he climbed over you, his body hovering just above yours, his eyes drinking you in like a man starved.

“I’m going to make up for every second I’ve missed.”

[escapistcatontheinternet]

i love the extras of dungeon meshi in how it fleshes out the world because they make it so much more evident how race affects every part of the story while avoiding the zootopia racism problem. like obv a main theme of the story is like, humanity and desire, 'to eat is to live', etc, but since the majority of it takes place in the dungeon isolated from society and thru the lens of laios, the racial aspects play out more like shadows on a wall for most of the story.

then in the extras we get comics like this

which at a glance fleshes out the racial aspects via a character explaining the racial rules of universe - humans have x amount of bones, while orcs and kobolds have more. however, if u take it less straightforwardly, it points out how the concept of 'human' is a constructed concept in the world. the fact that there are different categories of human in different parts of the world based off of what types of humanoids occur there is already a demonstration of this. in response, the bones explanation seems to kabru and the characters as an objective way of measuring humans vs nonhumans.

but obv, when the culture was deciding what humanoids were humans and nonhumans, they weren't blindly analyzing skeletons and then deciding. just visually, one can glean that orcs and kobolds look less like the ingroup of tallmen, elves, dwarves, gnomes, etc. the bones explanation appears as a justification for that immediate prejudice under a scientific guise - I'm sure that one could come up with the same number of physical differences between a gnome and an elf that they would find between a tallman and an orc. it sounds a lot better to say 'well, an orc has 230 bones while a human has 206' then 'well, an orc looks ewwww yucky yucky to me while a human looks normal'.

and what i like abt the comic is that the characters take the explanation at face value for the most part. when a contradiction is brought up in the oni, kabru can neatly slot them into the predetermined number of bones framework. bc that's kinda how it works irl - there r cultural prejudices that we can posthumously justify, and if we find something outside of it, we can twist it to fit into our predetermined binary. however, since the reader does not live in a world where there are orcs and kobolds to be prejudiced against, we can see that flaw in the cultural logic. when the party encounters the orcs, the number of bones has no bearing on their humanity. They r shown to be cliquish and distrusting of outsiders, but not any more than the elves are later in the story.

tldr dungeon meshi worldbuilding is so good

[lekhakpravin]

What is Altitude Sickness? - 5 Best Ways to Stay Fit in Mountain

Mountains are a traveler’s paradise, but every beauty comes with a cost. Mountain Sickness or Altitude Sickness or Acute Mountain Sickness (AMS) are very common among the travelers who love to travel to higher altitudes, but are careless enough to neglect their health. In this blog we are going to talk about what is altitude sickness and how to avoid Mountain Sickness or AMS. We will also learn…

[childhoodlost]

Was someone gonna tell me MPA got renamed or was I just meant to find out on a random Monday morning by opening Tapatalk?