#lord dryer lint

[zombpuppies]

Happy pride month!

[mollyannice]

Things I would do if I wrote comics to cause Batfans headaches

Dick Grayson: would get a police partner in Blüdhaven that calls him nicknames that mean penis like  “Pink Floyd,” “Russel the One-Eyed Wonder Weasel”, “Private Washington Monument,” “Lord Commander of the Southern Forces,” “The Fibonacci Sequence”, and more.

Alfred: favorite book is Bear by Marian Engel. (I would have Jason side eye Alfred for this before shaking it off. If you know, you know.)

Jason: Jason makes TikToks about the show Bluey in his freetime. He even has a tiktok with Guest stars from Task Force Z. He has 1 million followers to his tiktok because of it.

Tim: has two published Harlequinn novels out in their Love Inspired line and no one in his family knows that Tim wrote two published books about amish people falling in love.

Stephanie: pays for her superhero stuff, university and living costs at one point by having a Onlyfans account for her guinea pig who she dressed up in cosplays of the batfam. She makes bank. The Guinnea pigs name is Sir Pipsqueak Fluffybutt Wiggleton the Third. 

Bruce: has a onlyfans account to follow Sir Pipsqueak Fluffybutt Wiggleton the Third because one looked like a prototype of a batsuit that hasn’t seen action yet. He does not know Stephanie runs Sir Wiggleton’s account. 

Cass: have Cass confess to wanting an Armadillo fursuit

Damian: once got shown a video of the house hippo advertisement from Canada and didn’t see the end of it saying that House Hippos aren’t real (LIES) and he hunt for them because he wants one as a pet so he leaves toast with bread around and dryer lint in mouse traps.

[deez-no-relation]

Geez Lord the first episode of supernatural was freaking terrible. Y’all are spinning with dryer lint. And yes that’s an idiom I just made up. Do you like it?

*white knuckling the bathroom sink* do NOT infodump ppl about the fact that the first spn fic was a wincest one and that it was posted mere hours after the pilot and that the founder of ao3 was a wincestie and that the first fic on ao3 was wincest too and that the omegaverse as we know it was created by wincest shippers for jared/jensen fics *pointing at myself in the mirror with a shaky hand* ppl will think you're weird and off-putting you need to control yourself–

[qitwrites]

⬅ Previous || 11 || Next ➡

The hoodie incident begins with Kaminari, as most absentminded things do in the dorm.

It’s a cold Saturday morning, and Kaminari can’t find his hoodie anywhere. He briefly looks through his room, the common room, the dishwasher (because it’s happened before and no, he would not like to comment), and the courtyard before deciding he’s probably lost it. Just as he starts to make his way back, with plans to stop by Ashido’s or Kirishima’s room for a spare jacket, the jingle of a machine stops him in his tracks.

It’s the sound of a dryer that’s completed its cycle.

Kaminari doesn’t remember the last time he did his laundry but decides its worth a look anyway. He ventures into the laundry room, and when he sees the familiar shade of yellow, slightly worn out and well-loved but vibrant yellow nonetheless, he picks it up from the basket and beams.

‘How did you get here?’ he muses and puts it on with a satisfied sigh. He doesn’t question why the hoodie is so warm, or why it smells like fresh detergent, or how it’s way too big in pretty much every single way. He just decides that it’s his and leaves for his room.

Satou, for the life of him, cannot find his yellow hoodie.

It was in the laundry basket when he’d left to go grab a glass of water, and it’s gone by the time he gets back. It’s a whole ass mystery honestly.

It’s too cold to be without a hoodie, so Satou decides to borrow one from Kouda for the time being, and figure it out later. Kouda hands him a purple one with chewed up drawstrings and a front pouch pocket that sheds lint, and Satou gives him a huge grin as thanks.

This works out fine for everyone so far, but then Kouda drops some milk on his only other hoodie an hour later, and he can’t ask for the one he gave Satou back because Satou hasn’t found his either. So, Kouda just goes to Shoji and asks if he has any jackets to spare. Shoji, ever the minimalist, has a limited collection of clothes, but there is a sleeveless jacket, dark and warm, on a hanger in his closet that he happily hands over to Kouda.

Shoji is a pretty warm-blooded person, but the day is quite cold. When Tokoyami sees him shiver once, almost imperceptibly, he goes to his closet and pulls out a sleeveless moto jacket, dark as midnight and lined with faux fur. It isn’t really Shoji’s style, but he appreciates the gesture and shrugs it on. It’s warm and smells like nothing, and they go back to watching a YouTube documentary on Tokoyami’s floor, with Dark Shadow curled up nearby.

Dark shadow has the biggest soft spot for Tsuyu, so when Tokoyami is in the common room chatting with Iida and Ojiro later in the day, Dark Shadow sneaks off towards Tsuyu and tells her Tokoyami is feeling a bit cold, and happily takes the offered green jacket. He hides it away from Tokoyami the best he can.

Tsuyu, with her frog like disposition, does not do well with the cold. In fact, it’s one of her biggest vices, so the minute her jacket is gone, she feels herself seize up. Jirou walks by a few minutes later to see Tsuyu curled up on the couch, not moving and dressed too lightly.

‘Tsuyu,’ she shouts, rushing towards the green haired girl while pulling her hoodie off. She gently nudges Tsuyu into the material of her maroon hoodie, and Tsuyu finally exhales, warmth seeping into her extremities. She gives Jirou a happy smile.

‘Thank you,’ she croaks, and Jirou pats her head before plopping down on the couch next to her.

Jirou feels the cold soon enough, even as she snuggles into Tsuyu, but she doesn’t want to go to her room and pull on another jacket. She’s having fun watching a music concert on TV while others talk in the space around them. It’s homely, and she’s scared of breaking the moment by leaving, because they don’t get moments like this very often. Moments where everything is normal, or as close to normal as they can get, and the air is calm and the dust settles in random pools of sunlight streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows lining the hall. So she just sits and waits.

Bakugou shows up 45 minutes into the concert, a black and orange hoodie draped over his arm. He leaves it on the couch next to Jirou as he walks over to the kitchen to refill his bottle, and because Jirou lives to irritate the ever-loving shit out of Bakugou, she simply picks the hoodie up and pulls it on. The material is soft and cool and smells of fabric softener. The sleeves are more worn out than the rest of the hoodie, tiny holes and jagged corners littering the cloth sporadically. Tsuyu gives Jirou a nod of approval, and she returns it with a cocky smirk of her own.

Bakugou takes one look at the back of the couch, one look at the girls, one more look at the back of the couch before he snarls, exploding the bottle in his hands and spraying water everywhere.

‘I’ll KILL you.’

‘Try me,’ Jirou taunts drily, not moving her eyes from the screen. Tsuyu protectively curls into her, and the two slump lower into the couch.

Bakugou takes one step towards them when Kirishima, sunshine Kirishima, Bakugou tamer Kirishima, the lord and savior Kirishima steps into the room, takes one look at Bakugou’s expression, another at Jirou’s frame covered in black and orange before shrugging off his green hoodie and stuffing it over Bakugou’s head, wrestling him into it. The blonde yells and kicks the whole time but lets it happen because Kirishima’s hoodie is warm, slightly oversized, ridiculously comfortable and smells safe.

‘You’re going to train right?’ Kirishima asks with a wide grin. ‘Let me come with ya! I’ll let you beat me up as much as you’d like.’

Bakugou snarls in Jirou’s direction one more time but surprisingly relents, pulling Kirishima away by the collar of his shirt.

‘Clean that shit up,’ he shouts over his shoulder at Jirou, referring to the exploded water bottle in the middle of the room.

‘Ok mom,’ she shouts back, and sniggers at the yells of fuck you and shitty hair let me go I will end her. Messing with Bakugou is the best. She waits for the hour mark to pass on the concert before getting up to find a mop and a dustpan.

Kirishima and Bakugou train for upwards of 2 hours, oscillating between working their quirks till their bodies ache and sparring without their quirks to strengthen their bodies. Their fights look like they’re dancing, so attuned are they to each other’s movements, so familiar with each other’s fighting styles, it’s almost art. Bakugou is faster, more agile, and hits where it hurts, but Kirishima is an immovable, unbreakable wall, taking hit after hit and pushing back, standing strong, giving as good as he gets.

They’re drenched in sweat by the end of it, and Bakugou pulls on the green hoodie as the cold seeps in, giving Kirishima a feral smile.

‘Shouldn’t have let ears steal mine,’ he smirks, before sauntering over to the vending machine to get himself a hot drink. Kirishima just shrugs with a smile, and lays down on the ground, slowly stretching out his hamstrings. He’s always run a bit warm, so the cold isn’t anything unbearable, and he doesn’t mind Bakugou wearing his hoodie. The blonde doesn’t do well in the cold at all, so he’s a lot more manageable when he’s warmed up.

Kirishima twists to the side and something under one of the exercise mats catches his eye. He rolls over to it and picks it up and finds an off-white jacket roughly in his size. He feels like he’s seen it before, so he just shrugs and pulls it on. It’s a nice thick material, and fits just right, maybe erring on the side of tight around his shoulders. Bakugou comes back, cocks his eyebrow at the jacket but doesn’t say anything.

He throws a drink at Kirishima and starts walking back to the dorms. Kirishima smiles at the warm coffee in his hands and runs to catch up, launching into a story about a kitten, a tree, and a stupid idea.

‘Can we drop by the gym? I think I left my jacket there,’ Ojiro says to Tenya as they walk towards the main entrance. Tenya had expressed his desire to go out for a walk, and Ojiro, who’d been in earshot, had decided to tag along, having felt cooped up from sitting inside the dorm building all day. Iida agrees enthusiastically and they begin walking to the gym, passing Kirishima and Bakugou on the way.

It isn’t until Kirishima is out of earshot that Ojiro realizes the guy is wearing his jacket, and when he watches the red head walk into the dorm, he decides he doesn’t really mind. He didn’t want the jacket back cause he’s feeling cold per se, he just wanted to make sure he got it back. He can pick it up from Kirishima later he decides.

‘On second thought, I think I’ll look for it later,’ Ojiro murmurs, and Iida shoots him a confused look. They start moving away from the gym, heading down a well-worn path often traversed by the students and talk about upcoming hero movies and its easy and fun and the sun is bright not harsh. It’s a perfect day for a walk.

Iida and Ojiro get surprisingly into their conversation that they don’t even notice someone is yelling at them and when the earth just sort of vanishes beneath Ojiro’s feet, he yelps out loud.

He looks over to see Iida’s eyes widened in surprise and then there’s black tendrils wrapping around their hips as they’re yanked back. Looking down, Ojiro’s stomach whoops at the wide chasm, as if at the edge of a cliff. He might’ve been super invested in his conversation with Iida, but there’s no way they missed the edge of a cliff, right? Also, was there always a cliff here? What the hell?

‘Guys.’ They look up to see Midoriya standing there, pulling them up with his black whip. He’s like a guardian angel, but he’s still not great with it so when he yanks them up, they land pretty hard on their sides, and Ojiro lands in a mysterious puddle of water, effectively soaked to the bone.

‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ Midoriya gushes, rushing towards them. ‘Shit, I didn’t mean to put you guys down so hard, are you alright?’

Iida gets up, fortunate enough to not have landed in a puddle of water and straightens his glasses. ‘What is going on? Where did this cliff come from?’

Midoriya shrugs. ‘The land seems to be giving out weirdly. I was out here doing some strength training and the land just crumbled away. It reappears after some time. Also, it’s not a cliff.’ He points at the spot he just pulled them from. ‘Seems like a quirk, some kind of illusion one. The land had given away and the fall is steep, but it’s not a cliff. Just looks like one.’

Ojiro’s head spins with the random assortment of info, but he has more pressing problems to deal with. His soaked shirt is making him shiver, and it feels icky against his skin.

‘Oh, you must be cold,’ Midoriya notices immediately, and before Ojiro can say he’s fine, Midoriya shrugs off his All might hoodie and holds it out for Ojiro. ‘You can pull your shirt off and use this for now! It’ll suck if you get sick.’

Ojiro almost says he’s ok, but he’s getting colder and colder and the hoodie looks so warm and inviting so he decides screw it and peels his shirt off, shuddering when the cold air nips at his skin. He quickly tries to brush off any stray droplets before tugging on the hoodie, and sighs at the warmth he’s enveloped in. Midoriya is like a furnace apparently, and it’s wonderful. He gives the green-haired man a warm smile.

‘Thanks man.’

‘No problem!’ Midoriya says. ‘I think I’ll go back to the dorms and give everyone a heads up about this, maybe tell Aizawa-sensei as well. Will you guys be ok?’

‘We will be fine,’ Iida says, hands rigidly gesticulating in the space between them. ‘Ojiro and I will survey the land around and see if there’s anything we’re missing. We will be careful, so do not worry about us Midoriya.’

Midoriya flashes them an easy smile and with a wave, he makes his way back to the dorm.

Midoriya loves that hoodie, an old All Might piece that’s a tad big for him but warm, warmer than most of his clothes. He’ll ask Ojiro for it later he decides, slowly trekking back to the dorms. The whole floor giving away and light playing tricks business seemed more silly than villainous, but anyway, it made sense to bring a teacher into the loop to deal with it accordingly.

As he walks back to the dorms, the sweat on his body cools and chills him to the bone, and Midoriya misses his All Might sweater with a vengeance. Rubbing his hands along his arms, Midoriya picks up the pace and sighs in relief when the dorms come into view. He’s maybe 150 meters away when a familiar voice calls out to him.

‘Midoriya.’

Todoroki looks comfy and fashionable in a beige coat, a white shirt, and trousers paired with semi-formal shoes. Midoriya puts it together and realizes he’s coming back from one of his hospital visits, and gives him a warm, familial smile.

‘Welcome back, Todoroki. What’s up?’

Todoroki nods at him, smile small and hesitant, but there. It’s so much progress from where they started, like he’s thawing and cracking the ice around his soul.

‘Just got back. What are you up to? And why aren’t you wearing a jacket, it’s a bit cold outside, isn’t it?’

For Todoroki, the jacket is more for show than a necessity, considering his temperature quirk. He’d once told Midoriya that by using clothing to regulate his body temp it allows him to conserve energy, but overall it wasn’t too much of an effort for him to regulate himself on the daily. It’s all so fascinating, and Midoriya has like 4 pages worth of notes on this alone.

‘It’s a long story,’ Midoriya laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. He gestures for the dorm entrance. ‘Should we head in?’

Todoroki nods again, and Midoriya starts walking, trying to find things to talk about. He knows Todoroki’s hospital visits leave him feeling a little lost, a little sad, a little drained. He’s deciding between a new hero analysis he did about Sniper and a puppy rescue video he watched on Instagram when a coat is placed over his shoulder, extra warm on the left. He startles at that, turning to look at Todoroki with wide eyes.

Todoroki acts like he’s done nothing and starts the conversation instead. ‘On the way here, in the train, I saw someone wearing a tomato costume. I am confused, to say the least.’

And they don’t speak of the jacket. Midoriya slips his hands through the sleeves, pulling it around himself tightly and laughs at the imagery in his head. Todoroki’s soul thaws a little bit more and they walk to the dorm, contemplating why anyone would be in costume outside of Halloween.

They part ways when Midoriya says he wants to talk to Aizawa, and Todoroki heads to his room in a lighter mood. It seems to be a pretty common occurrence once he talks to Midoriya. Though, if he’s being honest, that seems to be the case with most people that speak to Midoriya, with the exception of Bakugou.

Todoroki settles into his room for the evening, content with just reading his manga and maybe getting some homework done when he hears a knock on his door. Bookmarking his spot in the manga, Todoroki walks to the door and opens it to find a grinning Sero.

‘Hey man, got a minute?’

Todoroki nods, and gestures for Sero to come inside.

His friendship with Sero is strange. It’s strange because it’s effortless. Sero doesn’t push him to talk or open up, he doesn’t question him, doesn’t stare at him because of his dad, doesn’t ask about his scar or his family, doesn’t really say much at all. They share comfortable silences, and Sero shows him new music, new clothes, and new stories. Todoroki, in turn, shares his mangas, advice about training, and his love for Soba.

Sero walks into his room and sits at the low table, placing a cloth bag on it. When Todoroki sits in front of him, he pushes the bag towards him.

‘For you!’

Todoroki’s eyes shoot up in surprise and he carefully opens the bag. Inside he finds a jacket, made from a cloth that is brick red, the material cotton soft and breathable. It’s cut like a short kimono, and the patterns are simple and subtle. It looks very much like the clothing Sero normally wears, kinda bohemian.

‘Mom sent me a care package, and I think I talked about you a lot on the phone, so she included this for you as well! Apparently she found it at a nice boutique or something.’

Todoroki isn’t used to friends, much less gifts from said friends. Something inside his chest shifts, and he hugs the jacket to his chest.

‘Thank you.’ His voice shakes just the slightest bit.

Sero’s laugh is warm. ‘Try it on man! I need to take a picture and send it to my mom or she’ll think I kept it for myself.’

Todoroki pulls the jacket on slowly, and Sero whistles low.

‘Damn, looks so good! The shoulders fit nicely too. Do you like it?’

Todoroki nods. ‘It’s very comfortable. Please tell your mother I said thank you.’

‘Fo sure, fo sure. Can I get a picture?’

Todoroki is awkward as all hell when it comes to pictures, but he agrees, and Sero takes one mercifully quickly. When they both stand up, Sero walks over to him, throws an arm over his shoulder and pulls him close for another picture. Todoroki throws up a peace sign, something he’s seen the others do just to have something to do with his hands.

‘This one’s real nice!’ Sero says, admiring the photo.

‘Send it to me later.’

Sero reaches out for a fistbump that Todoroki returns. ‘Sounds good yo. I’m gonna get going, I’ll catch you later yeah?’

Todoroki nods and with that, Sero leaves his room. Todoroki belatedly realizes that the jacket smells like Sero- like sandalwood and fresh tea. Perhaps his family smells like that. The thought twists that little something in his chest even more.

Tonight is act-like-bakugou-will-only-cook-for-himself-and-eat-the-“leftovers”-that-can-somehow-feed-the-entire-class night and Sero loves to stand by the kitchen isle and contribute with his stellar sense of humor. Watching Bakugou create mini-explosions and scream bloody murder is just a bonus.

When he gets there, the blonde is already working on dinner, clad in a green hoodie that looks a lot like the one Kirishima wears. Sero takes a seat by the kitchen island and pulls his phone out to scroll through some memes when he suddenly finds himself assaulted by a face-full of glitter.

Gasping, Sero leans back in his chair and falls on his ass, the glitter coming with him. He hears shouting and laughing and someone saying You have, and please excuse my French, pretty shitty taste Monsieur and Sero is so confused.

When he pulls the lump of glitter away, he realizes it’s a jacket, a sequined jacket that’s a bright, bright gold. It’s soft in his hands, and the inner lining feels like actual silk.

‘What-‘

‘It’s Aoyama’s,’ Kirishima says, pulling Sero to his feet. ‘I got here right when Bakugou yelled you fucking walking disco ball little shit and Aoyama decided throwing the jacket was the way to go. Clearly,’ Kirishima gestures at him, ‘he missed.’

Sero laughs and holds up the jacket. He turns it in his hand and takes a closer look at the fit and the material. Considering it’s Aoyama, he shouldn’t be surprised, but the jacket is actually the perfect balance between tacky and really, really nice. Sero looks over at the two blondes yelling at each other, Bakugou brandishing a spatula while Aoyama threatens him with his navel laser and Sero just shrugs and pulls the jacket on.

It fits like a dream, comfortable on his bones, the length perfect even on his tall frame. He adjusts the sleeves and is surprised by how deep the pockets on the inside are. When he looks up again, everyone is staring at him.

Sero clears his throat self-consciously. ‘What?’

‘It looks good on you Monsieur,’ Aoyama says with an actual sparkle in his eye.

‘Damn Hanta, looking like a whole-ass meal,’ Kirishima cheers, and even Bakugou has a quirked brow. He gives him a small nod and then snorts, ‘Still looks like a shiny voltorb.’

‘I’ll take the compliment,’ Sero grins, shaking his torso this way and that. The light catches in these fun and trippy ways, and Kirishima playfully shields his eyes. Aoyama bounds over to him and winks. ‘That’s not all.’

He runs his hands up Sero’s arms, and the gold glitter turns to silver, and Kirishima squeals.

‘That’s so cool!’

Sero runs his own hand up the sides and he feels like a child again, and it’s amazing.

He looks at Kirishima. ‘Want to try drawing a penis on the back?’

Kirishima howls, Bakugou throws a spatula at Sero, and Aoyama looks rightfully horrified. He lets Sero take the jacket anyway.

Iida is not happy when he finds Aoyama in a sleeveless jersey when its cold enough to see your breath, so he lectures him for a good 4 minutes before handing over his track suit jacket. Aoyama wears it with a grumble of All my twinkling has died a painful death.

Uraraka drapes her shrug over a napping Iida sprawled across the couch after a long day, belly full of Bakugou’s amazing food. She pulls his glasses off and keeps it on the table, tucks the sleeves against Iida’s body and hopes the make-shift blanket works.

Mina thinks Uraraka’s outfit is missing something and throws a denim jacket on her from her own closet, a cute cropped piece with some artfully placed rips. Uraraka beams at it, digging her hands deep into the front pockets and posing for a picture.

Momo watches this happen and shyly offers her own chunky sweater to Mina, asking her to make an outfit around it. Mina smashes the challenge, and the end result is so good that Momo insists she keep the jacket, claiming she can honestly just make her own, even though they both know she won’t, because, you know, Momo is the most conscientious person ever that actually cares about the economy.

When the night winds down and everyone finds themselves sprawled over the couches and each other, Hagakure follows Uraraka’s example and pulls her bomber jacket off before draping it over Momo and herself, a make-shift blanket. Momo huffs out an amused laugh and pulls the invisible girl closer. The night is cold, but the common space is just warm embers and crackling fires and the smell of smores.

And finally, just before bed, Shinsou decides to tackle the mountain of clothes on his chair. He hangs the jackets, folds the pants and shirts, and rolls up the socks. At the very bottom of the pile is a well-loved, slightly faded but still ridiculously bright yellow hoodie that belongs to the one and only. Shinsou huffs in amusement, and proceeds to pull it on before climbing into bed.

The hoodie incident begins with Kaminari, as most absentminded things do in the dorm.

It doesn’t really end though.

[cjsees-art]

INTEREST CHECK: BETWEEN WIND AND WATER, A HARDENSHIPPING HISTORICAL AU FANFIC

(I know the hardenshipping fandom these days is like four people and a piece of dryer lint but nevertheless)

I've had this idea for a while, and I figured I'd finally get around to doing something with it! Before I begin the actual writing process, though, I'd like to check with the community and see how interested y'all might be in coming along with me for the ride!

This work would be a long-form, slowburn Historical AU for everyone's favourite Team Magma and Aqua Leaders, updated on AO3. Chapter length and update schedule are all still up in the air, but if you feel like telling me how long and how frequently you like your fics, I'm totally willing to cater!

Finally: to let me know you're interested, even if you change your mind later, please like/reblog and say something nice in the notes! Being a pretty small fandom I don't have my hopes set super high, so let's say this: if we get ten notes, I'll get started with writing :D

See below the cut for a summary and a writing teaser!

Plot Summary:

The power-hungry and dangerous Maximilian "Maxie" Matsubusa, Captain of the Royal Guard, has one clear-cut goal: to overthrow the old and increasingly senile King Stone, seize control of the kingdom, and finally get to work expanding their territory's borders. When Stone tasks him with the nonsensical duty of hunting down an evasive fleet of pirates led by the deadly Archer "Archie" Aogiri, Maxie initially writes it off as a distraction to his plans, before realizing that finding Archie may be the key to his success. All that remains is to convince the pirate lord to side with the same man responsible for the imprisonment and death of dozens of his kindred. How hard could it be?

Teaser (subject to change):

"...Sir," Tabitha says tentatively, "do you need a hand?"

"I do not 'need a hand'," Maxie grits out viciously, both of his own gripping the pier so tightly his knuckles are stark white. "Just move aside so I have the room to board, you oaf."

Resigned, Tabitha moves as far bowward as he can. Maxie takes a deep breath and steps from the pier into the rowboat, regretting it the instant he does so. The flimsy thing rocks, Maxie chokes on his breath, and it's just sheer luck that keeps his knees from buckling and throwing him over the side right in front of both of his second-in-commands.

Nevertheless, he survives, with his dignity mostly intact. The rowboat is tremendously limited in space, and with two people already in it, Maxie barely has enough room to force himself in between them. Courtney glances at Tabitha, then at Maxie (who is irritably fixing his hair and glasses and repeatedly accidentally elbowing Tabitha in the face as he does so), then down to the oarlocks right next to her, and resignedly takes up the duty of rowing them all out towards the royal vessel in the deeper water.

Does she ever regret her life choices? No, but sometimes she hopes the people around her regret theirs.

[thunderheadfred]

Yknow, if I could trade in having dreams (like, the movies that play in your head at night, not the aspirational kind) for literally.... anything? I would. I have nightmares probably 80% of the time, to the point where it’s just a matter of how traumatizing is the nightmare this time? Oh, this one was just stressful and exhausting? What a relief. At least I don’t get sleep paralysis anymore, but sometimes I do wake up my husband with screaming! Fun!!

Fuck that. I’ll give up dreaming for the rest of my life in exchange for a fun-size bag of expired Halloween m&ms. Hell. For a pinch of cold dryer lint. Anything. Just silence my hideous monster brain, lord, I am begging you

[are-they-all-sims]

Here are some pictures of our life these last few months!!

Me with Camilla Rose <3 <3

Margot and Alessia! They're best friends!!

Lessie, Margot, and Lanie (Elena)!! <3 These three girls are inseparable!! Richard's going to be chasing off the boys, LOL!!!!

A scary fire!!! I forgot to clean the lint tray and it ignited when I started the dryer!! Thank the LORD Richard was home and ran to my rescue! I was shaken, but completely unharmed! God is so good!!

Speaking of Richard, he started a new job!! He's following in his father's footsteps and joined the business career <3. He looks sooo handsome. He had to shave his beard for the job but I think he looks “amazing” no matter what!!

I've been trying some new recipes and made spaghetti sauce from scratch!! Richard and the kids loved it <3 <3

No new blessings yet, but keep us in your prayers!! I trust the Lord and know that He knows best for us!!

Prayers,

-Molly Flanagan

[sunflowerhazzavol6]

Veto- Chapter One

To Genevieve, morning always seemed to be the cruelest part of the day.

Nighttime was easy. Any and all responsibility was just beyond her apartment door, the only thing left up to her at that point being what she was going to feed herself and what kind of alcoholic beverage she was in the mood for. Typically it was something mixed with vodka and some sort of take-out, or food brought home from work. She could just settle down into her worn couch, lint pebbling on its almost too-comfortable surface, and tune into the blue light that was her TV. The perfect evening to shut out a usually less than perfect day. If that wasn’t exactly the speed she was going for, she would let that responsibility tap it's probably clubbed foot on the outside of a club entrance, Genevieve dancing on top of a table with her best friends while they took turns taking shots. This of course added to the pain of mornings, her hangover rearing its head as soon as she opened her eyes. That was what made this one in particular so gruesome. 

She blinked her eyes open, immediately squinting at the light drifting in through her window. She had blackout curtains for this reason exactly, but last night in her drunken haze she had forgotten to close the blinds in order to protect herself from this exact occasion. She knew she was paying for it now, burying her nose back into her pillow and letting out a strong exhale. Outside she could hear the construction crew that was already bang-bang-banging on the complex that was being built next door. While the noise bothered her to no end in the beginning of her lease, she had grown used to it and knew that it was the reason her rent was so cheap in the first place. Even the catcalling had become white noise, but she still held up a middle finger most days when she walked by to do her laundry. This morning the jackhammering reminded her of the pile overflowing from the basket, and she let out an audible groan before pushing herself up and out from under the covers.

Six months ago she had dropped out of school, packed up all her shit, and moved to a place just outside of Malibu. Cecilia, her best friend from high school, had moved there immediately after graduating with her boyfriend at the time. While they ultimately ended up breaking things off, she stayed there to work and enjoy the sun and freedom that came along with the California heat. When Genevieve had called her for probably the thirtieth time, having an anxiety attack about not being happy or knowing the true direction of her life, Cece had suggested that she move down to the West Coast to figure things out. Within a week she had officially unenrolled from the business school at NYU, dyed her brown hair blonde in a Tesco bathroom, and packed her tan colored 2007 Subaru Forester to trek across the country. She camped in her car along the way, grateful for the couple before her who had tinted the windows. She didn’t tell her mom what she had done until she was pulling onto the Pacific Coast Highway, receiving an earful that ultimately ended as soon as her back tire popped and she had to pull over. She didn’t see why it mattered anyways, leaning against the dirty vehicle while she waited for the AAA guy to pull up and save her ass. Her mom couldn’t afford to help her with school, and so really the only money at stake was her own. That was a whole other tier of stress on her shoulders; the student loan debt that she still had to pay off despite her lack of degree. She was relieved to get her own place after staying with Cece for two weeks, but even after she pushed open the door to her new apartment, the discontentment that she had felt in New York lingered in her head like a fog. It was bearable now, though, and so she took that as a sign that she was taking the right step.

She stands on the cool linoleum flooring designed to look like hardwood, stretching her hands into the air and hearing her spine pop. The rush of blood circulating through her body makes her head throb, causing her to release a pathetic whine and hold her hand to her forehead. She grabs her glasses from her nightstand, putting them on and pulling open the drawer to find god’s gift to the earth. The bottle of Tylenol rolls to the edge of the drawer, it’s only occupant besides an Altoids tin with condoms in it. She grabs the bottle and pops it open, shaking out two pills before throwing her head back to toss them in. She pops her head under the sink in her bathroom to swallow them down, wiping the bit of water that escapes with the back of her hand. Genevieve then gets ready for the day, peeing and brushing the fuzzy feeling and stale alcohol from her teeth. After getting dressed in a somewhat-clean Led Zeppelin t-shirt and shorts she grabs her laundry basket, her keys, and heads out of her studio onto the walkway outside. 

Hidden Hills apartment complex was an old motel that had been converted into a low-income housing space, which had then just been converted into the complex that it was today. It was really nice for the price point and the area, and Gene was incredibly grateful that she had found it while it was still available. When she had moved in the owners had just finished remodeling and had begun work on the buildings that were going up now. Apparently they had knocked down the walls in between two motel rooms to create each space, making it a decent size for one person or a couple. The more expensive suites had become two bedroom apartments across the parking lot, so there were a few small families that lived there too. For the most part, though, it was people just like her who were calling it a rest stop on their way to something better. 

When she walks into the small laundry building attached to the main complex, she’s greeted by an older man in his early sixties hanging up colorful speedos to air dry in the corner. Victor was two doors down from her, and had lived here for at least the last two owners as far as she knew. He never really disclosed how long he had been there, though, which was very purposeful on his part. It wasn’t because he was ashamed by his living situation, being the oldest in the complex by at least thirty-five years. Victor absolutely romanticized the mystery he had created, introducing himself as a flaming homosexual from the south who had participated in the Stonewall Riots of 1969. When he found out that she had moved from New York City herself, he immediately took her under his wing and became the strange gay uncle she never had. Other than his horrible habit of sunbathing in the nude on his balcony, she really liked him and valued his insights and advice on life in general.

“Well would you look at who the cat dragged in! You look something horrible, Genevieve.” He says when he sees her, crossing his arms over his wife beater and kimono. He had on bright yellow swimming shorts too, which were inappropriately small for anyone other than him. She winces at his voice, wrinkling her nose while she puts her basket on top of a dryer.

“Don’t talk so loud. I just woke up.”

“My lord Jesus almighty, honey, it's past noon.” He turns back to his pile of wet clothing, pushing them into a dryer. He starts it and watches it spin for a second before leaning against the white metal, turning to look at her. “Have a good night?” 

“I’m not sure. Can’t exactly remember all of it.” Gene rubs her temples, putting in her laundry soap and starting the load.

“Those are the best kind.” He smiles at her. “You know, Genevieve, I’m very glad that you’re not a prude introvert who just stays in all the time. Have fun while you can, enjoy that hot, young body of yours to the fullest!” He shimmies his shoulders at her while she rolls her eyes. Despite being a very progressive LGBTQ+ man, he was old fashioned in that he didn’t call her by anything other than her full name. He was firm in his belief that a name was important and said a lot about a person, that it was their identity and was a part of them. Whether the name was given or not, he always called everyone by their name even if they introduced themselves with a preferred nickname. There was a guy that had moved out a few months ago, whose name was actually just Nick, but Victor called him Nicholas anyways. He felt it suited him better, and was more classy. He claimed he would get further in life as a Nicholas over just a Nick, but never really got the chance to find out. Which was just as well.

“Being a prude introvert is not a bad thing.” Gene points out, raising her eyebrows at him. “Isn’t the whole point of personality and sexuality that it’s your own?”

“Aha, my child, you’ve learned so well. I’m giving myself teacher points for that. I’m just merely pointing out that I saw a very good looking young man leaving your apartment at the asscrack of dawn two weeks ago-”

“A month ago.”

He ignores her. “-and I’m very proud of you for embracing this youth that you’ve been blessed with! Not everyone is so intelligent, Genevieve.”

“I hardly think sex is a factor to intelligence.” She laughs, hopping up onto the washer to sit.

“Perhaps not, but it's exercise, and a healthy body is a healthy mind.” He taps his hairline to emphasize his point.

“So are you keeping a healthy body for your healthy mind?” She teases, kicking her legs back and forth.

“Oh pish. Don’t trouble yourself with an old man’s sex life. That’s the last thing you want to hear about.”

“Then stop meddling in mine!” She laughs, reaching her foot out to tap his side affectionately. This draws out a smile, a chuckle escaping his lips wrinkled from thousands of Kent cigarettes.

“You don’t have to do what I say, sugar, but listen just to humor me, alright?” Gene can tell by his tone that this would be something she would want to hear, so she shuts her mouth and does as she’s told. “I’m very glad that you’re so confident in yourself. Even if you don’t think so, you’re more secure in your body and in your looks than the kids your age I’ve met. Definitely more so than I was. But maybe that's because you’re straight.” She cracks a smile at that, and he puts his hand on her knee. “That being said, honey, I don’t want you to shy away from love when it lands at your feet. Take it from an old man who has made many-a-mistake in his lifetime. When something falls in your lap, take it, run with it, and don’t let it go. Don’t chalk it up to a random hook-up just because that’s what you’re used to.”

She recognizes his seldom solemn face, nodding her head. He returns it with a tight-lipped smile, squeezing his hand. “I’m not saying don’t have casual sex, because that would make me a hypocrite. Just… when something comes along, and you can’t quite put your finger on what about it makes it so special… don’t let go, alright? Even if it scares you. Promise me.”

“I promise, Victor.” She puts her hand over his, smiling at him genuinely.

He seems to accept her sentiment, shaking his head with a small smile and moving to grab his laundry basket. “You know sweetheart, I’m going to be very sad when you become too good for this old shack.”

“Please. Even when I do manage to get out of here, I’m comin’ back to visit you and drink all your wine.”

“That’s a girl. Next time let me know when you’ve got back home safe, okay? I worry about you when your car’s gone, honey, it’s not safe for pretty young girls in the dark of the night. You know that.”

“I will. If you don’t sunbathe naked anymore.”

“Unfortunately, Genevieve my dear, you cannot ask an old man to make promises when he’s already set in his ways.”

[askmalal]

Lesser known Chaos Gods...

Asmeowdeus: God of Spoiled Cats, Patron of Cat Hoarders

Alucard: God of Castlevania

Bubble and Squeak: Gods of Bad British Television

Buboe: God of Reading Web MD and Self-Diagnosed Illness

Flavius: Dark Lord of People Who Really Want You to Know That They Are Atheists/Vegans/Gluten Free/“Living An Organic Lifestyle”

Konrad Furs: Dark God of Rescue Animals Who Use Their Cuteness to Manipulate Humans

Gervais: God of Unfunny Comedians

Golgemech: Fell Lord of Things You Need Not Being in Stock (Pioneered seeing a thing you want, then going in later to buy it only to be told that no such item has ever been carried by the vendor.)

Jada: God of Obscure Star Wars Characters You Should Know

Koji: God of Bad Anime That Trendy People Pass Off As Good

Jell-O: God of Horrible Cookbooks

Leonard: God of the Left Socks That Vanish In The Dryer

Xereus the Annoyed: God Of People Who Are Furious You Don’t Know All Aspects of Their Fandom

Sally: God of Belly Button and Pocket Lint

Trabbi: God of East German Automobiles. (She’s quite charming, in her defense.)

Wexitrix: God of Putting Cilantro in Everything

Xirtixew: God of Added Stuff That Doesn’t Appear on the Menu and Making Stuff Spicy for No Damned Reason

There are, of course, many more. I am sure I have forgotten some.....

[zombpuppies]

Hey I’m Mutt!

I’m a scemo dog-thing who does a lot of random shiz!

I draw, paint, sew, make prints, commit war crimes…

…wait maybe not the last one…

But still!

--WELCOME TO MY HELL HOLE--

^Linktree above^

All personal shiz bellow!

Other mes!

@puppyprintz -my reblog account! Useing it to declutter my personal.

@theweirdodog -my “freakazoid”reblogs go here! Go there for my acespec weirdness :3c

Tags!

#dogdogrambles - random thoughts that I have

#dogdogdraws - all of my art! Isn’t just strictly drawing

#dogdog - my character dogdog

#lord dryer lint - the stupidest cat ever! He’s a baby, be nice to him!

[fundielicious-simblr]

The Paulson home got a shake up when the dryer caught fire! Always remember to clean your lint tray, it’s a good thing Claire was there!! The family thank the Lord no one was hurt! 

[sweaterkittensahoy]

TELL ME OF THE MARMAN DOGS, PLEASE?

Okay, you don’t know this because you can’t see me make this post, but I promise I spent TIME figuring out doggo pics (and other pics; we’ll get there). 

Okay, so there are four dogs. The first one is this guy: 

This is what he looks like when John first finds him, except he’s very cold and wet in the back garden of the Embassy, and John has no idea how the little guy got there (he will find out later about an attache in another embassy having purchases the dog from a breeder, then decided it was not manly enough; that man will be summarily removed from every guest list on embassy row). 

John is on his way to pick up Josh for lunch when he spots the puppy. He scoops him up and tucks him in his coat and figures he can get Donna to call the Humane Society on his behalf. 

Donna is happy to do so and even gets a warm towel from the dryer brought up so she can cuddle the MOST ADORABLE PIBBLE.

“The what?” John asks, thinking he’s misheard.

“Pibble,” Donna says. “It’s a nickname on the internet for pitbulls.”

“Pibble,” John mutters and smiles. He “forgets” to ask Donna to call the Humane Society. He also does NOT have to convince Josh on adopting the little guy because Josh comes out of his office, spots the puppy, and yelps, “IS THAT A PIBBLE BIT?”

The puppy is officially named “Sir Pibble Smilemouth” a week later. John knights him with a butter knife. They were not expecting him to be the biggest boy. But now he looks like this: 

He is, of course, a lap dog. 

So, about a year after they get Pibble (and realize he is the biggest boy), John is in England to do English stuff and also visit the Queen (he is the favorite cousin, after all). She has him come along for a visit to a Corgi rescue, and John REALLY doesn’t mean to do more than look, but then he spots a a scruffy little guy in the fourth kennel down. It’s a sad story: The corgi came from a backyard breeder and was abandoned in front of the rescue because it didn’t have a naturally docked tail (the breeder had the nerve to leave a note (WITH THEIR NAMED SIGNED) explaining they didn’t want to HURT the dog--said asshole was raided a week later). 

John really, really, REALLY doesn’t mean to take the dog home, but it’s been there a YEAR, and he has ways (money) of keeping the puppy out of a long quarantine, and so he comes home with this guy:

He “forgets” to mention to Josh that he’s bringing home a dog. Josh rolls his eyes but is otherwise unfazed (he’s married to this idiot, after all), but he demands that for John to fully apologize, he has to let Josh’s staff choose the new dog’s name. 

And so, Lord Mr. Stumpybuttons becomes a regular fixture around the White House (Sir Pibble prefers the embassy because it’s closer to food and kids come through and love to pet him). He loves CJ best because she always sneaks him cheese (his cheese farts are legend; CJ does not care because he gets so fucking dorky when cheese is offered). He also becomes known for following CJ into the briefing room and sitting by her podium. When they go in one day, there is a tiny podium next to hers, and you better fucking believe Lord Mr. Stumpybuttons standing with his front paws on the thing went viral (note: I know WW happened in the late 90-early aughts, but I always picture them present day; likely because they treated the show as present day, so). 

Six months after Lord Mr. Stumpybuttons (who hogs the bed more than Sir Pibble, who is WAY LARGER AND THAT IS NOT FAIR) comes into the family, Josh is on the campaign trail with Sir Pibble (who loves a car ride), and they’re in Arkansas. Donna takes Sir Pibble out to pee (Josh called a Republican hopeful Lord VolDUHmort on a hot mike has been grounded to the bus by both Leo AND CJ), and when Donna comes back in,she has something wrapped in the cardigan she was wearing. She explains as she undoes Sir Pibble’s harness one-handed that Sir Pibble REFUSED to come back inside without it. Josh expects a pinecone (Sir Pibble has a collection) or a gross tennis ball (they’re in a parking lot of a slightly questionable Ramada Inn. 

It is, instead, a pupper about the same size Sir Pibble was when John found him, but this one is clearly all mutt. Josh doesn’t even pretend like he’s not gonna bring the little guy home. He gives the dude a bath, dries him off, lays him on Sir Pibble (who is flopped out and chewing lazily at a Kong ball), and sends a photo to John. 

“Congratulations! We’re parents!”

John responds with MANY emjois and asks where they are. 

“I dunno,” Josh texts back. “Someplace in Arkansas. Donna says it’s called Toad Suck, but I think she wants me to embarrass myself on TV again.”

Maybe Toad Suck grows into a goofy, handsome boy: 

And, just when they think, “Okay, we have enough dogs. We don’t need anymore dogs,” some upper crust type complains that he got his daughter a Chihuahua and it ANNOYS him, and so he’s getting rid of it. They’ve had it a week. It doesn’t even have a name. 

The daughter in question is fifteen and STANDING NEXT TO HER DAD when they get this information, and John and Josh have to squeeze each other’s hands REALLY HARD so they don’t yell at the guy. 

John throws on his best smile. “We’d love to have him! One in every size. Did you have a name picked out?”

The girl is OBVIOUSLY trying not to cry as she brings up a picture on her phone: 

“I was gonna name him Spruce Moose,” she says, and Josh laughs so hard he nearly falls over. A joke from his favorite Simpsons episode? Oh, hell yes. 

“You know,” John says as Josh continues to laugh, “I believe your father mentioned you were looking for summer work, and Josh and I are always on the hunt for a dog walker who understands how odd are schedules are.”

Upper crust asshole is PISSED. The daughter is BEYOND HAPPY. She becomes a fixture in the neighborhood and gets tons of work because the Marbury-Lyman dogs are sweet as can be, but still, you’re walking a pittie, a corgi, a very smart mutt, and a tiny guy all at once and not tripping? LET US HIRE YOU. 

“Okay, that’s it, no more dogs,” John and Josh agree. It’s too damn hot in the bed as it is. And spring is coming. They leave a second-story window open one night, and when they wake up in the morning, the screen is pushed in and there’s a huge fucking Siamese cat on the kitchen counter: 

He’s got a couple scars, but when Josh approaches, he immediately starts purring like a rusty chainsaw and SCREAM MEOWING for attention. He is CONSTANTLY noisey, and when Bernice meets him, she immediately dubs him, “Professor Meowbury, Purr HD.” 

He is also a shoulder cat and did NOT flinch when Josh screamed in surprise the first time he landed (from the cupboards above the stove; he’s a dick). John ADORES him because he learns that making one small, cat-like sound at Professor Meowbury will lead him to scream-meow for at least two minutes, and it becomes his very favorite way to pretend like he didn’t hear comments from people he doesn’t like who he is not allowed to kick out of his office. 

There are so many lint rollers in their house. And leashes. And treats. And toys. And sweaters. And the carrying sling for Spruce Moose (who loves people but gets scared easy but not as easy when he’s in the sling). And you have about a 60% chance of getting bowled over by the crowd when you show up because even Professor Meowbury runs to the door for pets when people show up, and always seems to know who has NEVER experienced a shoulder cat (the screams are amazing). 

[ajathings]

Unicorn, Pt. 1// An Exericse

The college experience, for me, was like having a brand new theater of experimentation. My mind was my own. My body was my own. I was free to experience life on my own terms.  It was a damaging mindset, looking back on it now, but at the time, I loved it. To go from having your parents micromanage your life to suddenly being in complete control of it after graduating highschool…it made my head spin. 

I belonged completely, and totally to me.

But it didn’t take me long to realize that my newfound autonomy came with responsibilities and hardships. One day, it was clear that college housing was beyond my means to fiscally maintain. I remember sitting in my living room one day, realizing I had maybe a month or two left before the school reaches into my pocket and finds nothing but dryer lint. They’d evict me a month after that. When my method of begging my boss for a promotion didn’t work, I returned to my time-tested method of looking for answers at the bottom of liquor bottles. Of course,drinking never solved any problems. Until the day it did.

The stress got to me and I didn’t feel much like my usual haunt, so I decided to treat myself like royalty and go party with the rich folks uptown. I ended up at some rooftop bar called Castell’s, where they spun me the meanest daiquiri, sweet and fruity, while somehow accentuating the sweet caramel of the rum. I made a mental note to come back when I could afford it. Lord knew that one drink was all I could realistically afford.

I wasn’t there for an hour before some CEO-type approached me at the bar. I was taken aback by it–being a black girl in college, I assumed that no one there would even notice my existence. But there he was, gazing at me with stars in his eyes, asking me everything about me. We talked about my dreams of curating for the High Museum, opening my own gallery, and my love for the Renaissance Era of paintings and stonework… I also let slip that I was struggling with housing…but he didn’t seem to judge me for it. In fact, he took over my tab. He invited me to drink a little more,

I didn’t need to be convinced that a ride to his place was better than the bus ride alone back to my apartment. I was already drunk, easy pickings for ne'er do wells on the subway. Getting into cars with strange men was the one thing my parents warned me about. But he could have asked to fuck me outright. I still would have given him an emphatic “yes” for listening. Just for not judging me.

Besides, he wasn’t aggressive. He was gentle. Nervous, even. Picking up chicks from bars was new to him. He gave me a tour of his luscious bachelor pad and when we happened upon his bedroom…he passed it. It was me that took the first steps in, me who left my dress in a piled heap at the foot of his bed, me who stripper crawled into his sheets. He only took me because I offered, hands clutching my hips for dear life while he fucked me like whatever pornstar he was mimicking from his early morning dick-beating sessions. His technique was second-rate, but his willingness to adjust in order to get it right was admirable. Plus he filled me…the one time where size did him a favor or two.

We were in the throes of heated sex when his wife walked in. Her hazel eyes, her auburn hair draped in lavish waves over one shoulder, the business suit that fit her just the right way…I was embarrassed two times over, once for being a homewrecker and once again for falling into a superior woman’s shadow.

My first instinct was to cover myself, to stammer out some sort of an apology. I would have made a mad dash for my clothes if they weren’t out of reach. But then she says the most peculiar thing to her husband…and I’m not sure what to make of it.

“I didn’t know we were entertaining guests tonight,” she purred.

And her husband laughed, and replied, “Neither did I. We only just met.”

My heart, after just sinking into the pit of my stomach, leapt back up into my throat while I watched her climb into bed to sample my lips with a kiss. Only then do I realize that her husband’s vigorous rhythm resumed. She watched me, confused, frightened, spitroasted on her husband's penis, and she offered my cheek a reassuring brush with her soft hands. “Hi,” she whispered in my ear, “I’m Penny.” She buried her lips into my neck, pulling her suit jacket over her shoulders.

It didn’t occur to me until I was pressed between them that I didn’t even know the man’s name. For hours, he was just “Penny’s husband” to me. Eventually the night came to an end, and the following afterglow lasted into the morning, present upon waking. I was afraid to move, selfishly not wanting it to fade. I was also afraid to move because I didn’t want to disturb the happy couple, Penny in front of me and her husband pressed against my back… I didn’t know the protocol of one-night stands with married couples. But eventually Penny woke up too, her eyes found mine and she smiled. “Good morning,” she whispered, and offered me breakfast while her husband slept in.

Penny led me to a table on the balcony outside the kitchen sitting next to me as we watched the sun rise over the Providence skyline. I was nervous throughout the whole conversation. She mentioned that while I was asleep, she had an at-length discussion with her husband, whom she lovingly referred to as her Jack, about my situation with my college housing. “We’d like to get to know you a little better,” she told me, “And if things work out, we can offer you a room here.”

In exchange for more nights like this. Something she would never say aloud.

Penny could see that I’m apprehensive and lays her featherlight hand on mine. “There’s no pressure. We really like you and we want to help…and we’d also like to see where this goes. If that’s something you’re interested in…Ms…?”

It didn't occur to me that I never introduced myself either. “Aja,” I replied. “Aja Loftin.” Speaking my name felt like signing a bad contract.

[mandoleksiak]

and the canes bc I want you to have fun :)

thanks for wanting me to have fun magn; i made sure you had all the sources you need to understand me fully! please enjoy this and be grateful i gave the tl;dr on the checkers lmao. i also only chose players i could write about sufficiently so yeah.

noah hanifin: such! a! beautiful! boy!; i honestly think about this tweet (x) when i hear his name or see him; him and jack telling bad jokes to each other is probably the best thing i’ve seen – aside from the short but Quality™ video of him w dogs 

jordan staal: certified Big Boy™;  imo he’s probably the best looking staal brother don’t @ me; he’s an ex-pen so naturally i love him and would die for him

justin williams: Old™ but understands memes so i guess he’s ok; always looks like he just rolled out of bed or like he stuck his finger in a light socket or like he’s been living under a rock for five years there’s no in between

sebastian aho: ‘you want a big boy aka jordy? you want a little boy? ♪ a little boy ♪’;  he’s my finnish son and i will kill anyone who does anything to him

brett pesce: idk i find him v pretty and i love him; i’m in love w his then & now picture; i’d sacrifice everything to keep him safe and happy

brock mcginn: i feel like this is the perfect time to bring this up; the man has got a sick Flow™; doesn’t know how to clean out a lint trap

justin faulk: a shortish, angry man; could probably be a disney villian or a serial killer; ’low key elite af‘ 

elias lindholm: ’i want to thank not only god, but jesus for creating elias lindholm’; SO! CUTE!; could have me any day and any way w his pretty eyes and pretty smile and maybe a lil bit bc he’s swedish

cam ward: my actual carolina dad; v cute w his kids like i cannot with this

scott darling: rescued from the h*wks; oh so boldly rocked american flag pads at worlds; has better reaction time than rasky and derek

victor rask: could be a model? or a bond villain? it was a funny tweet and he didn’t get it i’m; NEVER SMILES????? WHY RASKY????? WHY????

jeff skinner: ’it’s a beautiful baby boy’ ; i could literally go on for days – DAYS – about how much i love jeff skinner; will do anything to ensure that this bean is never sad 

trevor van riemsdyk: ‘a regular boy’; the better-looking brother don’t @ me on this either; also saved from the h*wks the canes are doing the lord’s work; a dog dad

jaccob slavin: ping pong champion; has a nice smile and his eye are v blue i love him; ’JACCOB SLAVIN FOR PRESIDENT’; has two goldendoodles that i would die for i’m a sucker for nhl players who have instas for their pets

teuvo teräväinen: ’hello, i’m real boy’; fuck he was saved from the h*wks too the canes really are out here doing the lord’s work; my other finnish son but somehow also the love of my life¿

warren foegele: adorable; i would die for him and that’s the tea

trevor carrick: TWIGGY ALIEN MAN™; was roommates w brock and could’ve died bc brock never cleaned out the lint trap of the dryer

the charlotte checkers in general: i would die for each and every checker and this entire video playlist is good reasoning for that

[dekored]

The Never Ending Repairs

How do u guys deal with this forever holy shit. I made the grave mistake of home ownership at 21.

Earlier this month I had to refinish my entire roof, we were in the middle of a kitchen remodel when it started leaking. The roof was apparently installed 6 years ago and was dicked up already? I think they lied about that.

Today my wife was doing laundry and said she smelt something burning from the dryer. I was at work and didn’t see the message and she did another load. Lord behold the dryer caught on fire from the belt. I clean the lint out of the ducts every week and every load for the trap.

Fire melted the washer electrical components. I had to race home to go deal with that.

Now I spent even more money to replace the two of those.

I feel like I can’t ever sit down and have a weekend to relax. I just wanted to rant. This shit can be tiring.

submitted by /u/No_Search_575 [link] [comments] from The Hivemind Improving Homes https://ift.tt/2YpiWjv

[demisexual-kingdom]

Questionnaire

1. Tumblr url: AceOfIntroversion

2. Sexual/romantic orientation: Panromantic (maybe?) Demisexual (definitely)

3. Age group: 18-25

4. How long have you identified as a-spec? Umm, I identified as ace for about three years, and after I met my current partner over a year ago I realised I was demisexual.

5. Favorite color: all shades of green and blue

6. Favorite food: oh lord, I love food. But probably any kind of pasta, so long as it’s not plain. That or seafood chowder.

7. Biggest pet peeve: people not doing what they’re supposed to *squints really hard at people who continue to leave their lint in the community dryers*

8. Hobbies: star wars! Watching movies! Art!

9. Favorite movies/TV shows: again, anything related to star wars; crime shows; superhero stuff (particularly if Bucky Barnes is present), OUaT, What Happened to Monday?, And The 100

10. Favorite genra of music? I like anything that appeals to my mood. I’m very eclectic. But I DON’T like new mainstream country unless it’s the new dark, gritty country

11. Favorite artists? Claude Monet, Van Gogh, really anyone who does nature art or– oh, you mean music. Runs the gamut from Johnny Cash to Dorothy to FOB/MCR to Imagine Dragons to TSFH/Audiomachine. Yeah. Right now though, it’s definitely Starset

12. Who do you consider your role model? Oh, gosh… I was never really one for role models. That said, I definitely look up to Carrie Fisher, Indra & Octavia from The 100, and Emma Swan

13. What is your hidden talent? I can wiggle my ears

14. Best/favorite pickup line: Are you the Black Eyed Peas? Cuz you make my heart go BOOM BOOM BOOM

15. Who would you want to be marooned on an island with? My partner, or my friends Lynn or Emily

16. Chocolate or fruit candies? I mean I’d choose Swedish fish, but if it’s ONLY fruit candies….peach rings

17. Name? (Optional): How about nicknames? Call me Aoi/Blue/or Ibby

18. Country/state/region (optional): US/Confusion/corn