#oil shark bowl

[nottodayjustin]

Some of the best hockey twitter so far: Oct-Nov 23-24 season

[peachpitfics]

Cruel Summer

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: Following your romp with Benedict Bridgerton in his art studio, he asked your brother for your hand! Now you're on your honeymoon, and you're getting a little bored, posing for him. A lady must find ways to amuse herself!

Length: 2.1k

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Content Warnings: Oral sex (male receiving), Penetrative vaginal sex, unprotected sex, light bondage, food play.

a/n: This is an anonymous request for a continuation of 'Guilty as Sin'.

Bridgerton master list (tag list)

Benedict Bridgerton escorting you to view his artwork, at his private studio, was just the beginning of your story. After sneaking around behind your family’s backs for a small while, Benedict gathered enough courage to ask your eldest brother’s permission for your hand. This seemed strange to the y/l/n family, not one of them had ever seen the two of you together, which showed how much attention was paid to the middle child. Benedict made sure to ask you in the Bridgerton drawing room, just before family tea, for everyone to see. He made such a big to-do, confessing his love to you, before every member of the Bridgerton family in attendance. It felt particularly safe there, amongst people who took interest in who you were as a person.

It was bittersweet to have siblings who offered their time, their attentions, and their hobbies freely. You learned so many new things from each of them, from pall-mall, to sewing, even horse riding.  In six months, you were married and moved into the Bridgerton house for the meantime, until after your honeymoon. You would never outright tell Benedict you did not want to move out, but he felt it, he knew.

“My love” Benedict whispered, shaking your shoulders gently. Honeymooning in Paris was something the two of you had instantly agreed upon. So far, two weeks of sleeping late, making love, and eating copious amounts of divine food was your only concern. Of course, there were a lot of other lovely things Benedict had planned for your honeymoon – river boat rides and romantic dinners, every moment between locations filled with fine bread, wine, and cheese.

“Yes, my love?” You grumbled, rolling away from him, clearly having not had enough sleep.

“You must wake up, it is midafternoon!” Benedict exclaimed with a chesty laugh, rolling you back into him and tickling your sides. You howled with laughter, pushing him away playfully, leaning up to distract him as only you knew how. His lips were warm and wet against your own, seductive, and luscious.

“You must come downstairs! The housekeeper has left us a feast and I wish to paint my gorgeous wife” Benedict slid his hands around your naked body, lifting you out of bed as you groaned.

“Again?!” “My darling, I’ll be painting you until death takes me” Benedict chuffed, sliding sideways between doorways and down the stairs to the sitting room.

“What if death takes me first?” You smirked back, figuring you had him cornered here.

“I have made God promise I am to go first. And even so, I’ll have every detail committed to memory and these paintings and sketches of you now to keep me company” Benedict squeezed you in his arms, he didn’t like to joke about parting ways, in any sense. It was his truest nightmare, his deepest fear.

Benedict set you down in the sitting room and gestured to what he and the house keeping staff had readied. Paint, canvas, a staging area - littered around the room were bowls of fresh fruit, bottles of wine, candles surrounded by plates of cheese, oil, and bread. You relaxed back against his chest, his arms wrapping around you, cupping your breasts sweetly. You giggle a little, planting a soft kiss on his cheek. He nodded to your position for the rest of the day, a chair with the back faced to a very high window, casting a streak of sunlight down upon the spot.

There you sat, for hardly an hour before your mind began to wander, circling Benedict in your mind like a shark in open water. You had learned to become comfortable being nude for long periods of time these days, however Benedict had learned nothing of your persuasion or power when your attentions were dashed. Your movements started slowly, daintily taking your hands to your knees, and spreading your legs wide upon the chair. Resting a little, relaxing your back and cupping your own breasts. Your fingers gently grazing your nipples. But nothing, no attention from your husband. He sat close to his canvas, squinting into the detail of his work, his realm of perception clearly inhibited. With a huff and a light moan, you continued to palm at your own breasts, fingers trapping your nipples in a pulling motion- you decided to pretend Benedict wasn’t here. Suddenly, taking notice, you watched as his brush left the canvas, his mouth hung open a little and he removed his glasses, almost tossing them to the floor.

“What are you doing, darling?” He mumbled, swallowing hard. Your hands ran down your mid-section, over your belly and down your thighs sensually, soft mewls slipped from between your lips. Benedict loved the sounds you made.

“I’m just amusing myself, continue on with your painting my dear” Your replying comment was nonchalant in the best way. Benedict almost looked offended that you would suggest he could go back to painting.

“How do you suppose I paint, while my wife ravages her own body before me?” He blinked at the audacity of you.

“Well, dear one, this is what you have chosen for this afternoon’s activities… Now, you must endure” You smiled, sliding your hand between your legs, dipping your finger in the wet warmth there. Benedict shuddered, wishing any part of him were exchanged with your finger.

If there was anything you had learned about Benedict in the last six or seven months, it was that his desire for you was consistent and all encompassing. Benedict watched on as your fingers circled your clitoris, you moaned and exhaled gently - his paint brush never did return to the canvas. Beads of sweat formed on his brow line, the hot, French summer finally taking its toll in the late afternoon. You reached to the small stool next to you, extracting the tiniest jar of honey. You looked into Benedict’s eyes, holding the jar above your body, dangling your head back and pouring a steady stream of honey over your chest. The sun glistened, reflecting little pools of light off your sticky, sweet skin.

Taking your finger, you swept up your belly from your navel, placing your finger on your tongue in clear view of him, and that was his very last straw. Benedict threw his paintbrush to the ground, thrusting himself up and out of his chair, to march across the room to you.

“What do you think you are doing, wife?” Benedict’s voice rasped, his eyes were so dark, the colour had all but gone.

“Playing, my love” You replied cheekily, sucking another nip of honey off your finger. He all but growled watching your finger slip between your lips, his breath quickening in sheer lust for you.

“Are you punishing me for getting you out of bed?” Benedict’s face was so close now, his nose tip to tip with yours. There was such tension in his jaw, his teeth clenched hard in his fierce need of you. You fluttered your lashes back at him, refusing to answer with your words.

“Do you have even a semblance of an understanding of what you are doing to me? This is unbelievably cruel,” He breathed heavily down on you, desperation flooding his body and adrenaline surging behind, “You can’t begin to imagine the things I want to do to you right now” His stubble gliding across your ear and cheek, making you shudder.

“Show me then,” You challenged, “You are my husband after all”.

Benedict’s hands slowly moved to his shirt, shedding it, and throwing it somewhere behind him. He acted with a sureness and a strength you hadn’t yet experienced, but it was drawing you in. Undoing his pants, Benedict took his hard member into his hands, stroking himself against your chest, lathering it in honey. His other hand wove into your hair, tangling the perfect hold, bringing you forward.

“Oh. Goodness. Seems I’ve made quite a mess of myself… Wife, help me clean it up” He smiled smugly down at you.

 Something feral, untamed, was unleashed inside you, your eyes darkening, “Certainly, my lord”. As your tongue reached out to meet his tip, his head lulled back in pleasure, his hand still wrapped around the base of him. Your lips parted slowly, encasing his first inch, and swirling your tongue around to suck the honey from him. Benedict exhaled headily, his breaths deep, but quick with the slightest grunt mixed in. The way he sounded, even now, made you wetter and wetter.

There was something maliciously keen in Benedict’s eyes as he watched from on high, your pretty mouth sucking all the honey off him and then some. His body gently rocked forward, his hand heaving your head forward, onto him in a more perverse manner. His head hung back in greedy caution, grasping to the very last straws of his gentlemanly nature as you sunk to the base of him, your tongue wriggling slyly underneath.

His fingers grew taut in your hair, reefing you backwards. His laugh was low, both impressed and challenged by your ministrations. In the next moment, Benedict had hauled you up and over his shoulder, he was charging up the stairs, mad with temerity.

Entering the bedroom, he threw you down on the bed, scrambling for any piece of material in reach, he began ripping. Four pieces of silk fabrics in his hands, he loomed over you in profound ownership. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, Benedict taking each wrist and ankle, tying them to each to their respective corner post of the bed.

“There” He stood, hands on his hips, proud of his work, “There’ll be no more of that”. Clearly touching yourself had had a dire effect on Benedict’s work ethic.

Kneeling between your thighs, his naked body unjustly out of reach, Benedict’s supercilious smile sick with goofy dominance. He thumbs over your folds, his finger descending, extorting whines of pleasure you never knew existed within you. Broad strokes of the most painful, unapologetically evil gratification. Benedict’s tongue flicked over his lips hungrily.

“I need you” The words escaped you violently, the thrill of his touch, his charming smile becoming all too much for you. He ignored you and continued another moment or two, reducing you to a begging mess beneath him.

“Shall I oblige you, my marvellous bride?” His grin was jubilant and all knowing, his hands came down on your wrists, pressing them into the bed. Benedict’s brutal, familiar kiss sown into your lips permanently, as he pushed inside of you with surprise.

“Y/n” He groaned, growled with unrepentant lust. Your eyes cast wide, the length of him stretching you mercilessly while he thrust in and out. His villainous face claiming your entire consciousness as he used your body to his pleasure, decadent facial expressions, and damnable sounds he was delivering straight to your right ear.

“You feel unimaginably perfect” Benedict groaned, your moans joining in alongside his.

Hands grasping for silk to hold onto, you longed for your own release, grinding your hips back against Benedict’s. His movements became more ferocious, keeping up with the sounds you were making. Frenetic energy began to move through your body, your ravenous thirst for him finally quenched. Every muscle in your body engaged in vivid contortion, Benedict pressing into you as deeply as he possibly could before his own body found its own powerful release.

Covered in sweat and honey, you laid tangled together for a moment before Benedict recalled your wrists and ankles were tied. He chuckled with giddiness, sitting up to admire his knots.

“You look fantastic like this, perhaps we should do this more often” He suggested sweetly. His thumb caressed the side of your face, your panting, tired body unable to give a response. Benedict littered your face and neck with loving pecks.

“We could be one person and I still would never be close enough to you. No amount of time with you will ever satisfy me. You are the centre of my world” Benedict whispered gently. Every day you were reminded of the intoxicants his poetic mind dabbled into every sweet thing he said to you.

In another instant, Benedict had sprung from the bed, running downstairs. You laughed, thinking he must be returning with some of the food the housekeeper had left strewn about his romantically planned afternoon. Instead, Benedict returned with a new canvas and his implements. Your mouth fell open all on its own, blinking furiously in his direction as he set himself up off the side of the bed.

“If you could just stay there, like that, that’d be great!” Benedict’s grin, excruciatingly exquisite, and concocting. He held himself with such pride in his agendum, cockiness seemed to fill the room in a potent manner.

“BENEDICT!?” You squealed, tugging frantically on his bindings, your laughter filled with rich resolve.

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

tagging: @cringycat24 // @blckbarbiedoll // @freyagallileaevans // @junkie05 // @rosabeetroot // @flamewriterr //

If you'd like to be added to this tag list, please let me know!

[ceilidho]

'still wakes the deep' au

prompt: You're an environmental scientist conducting research on an off-shore oil rig with only a few days left before you're slated to leave. The eldritch creature they accidentally awaken throws a wrench in the works. First Meeting masterlist

-

Choppy waters like Neptune’s eye meet your gaze when you look back at where you came from, the land on the other side but a beige striation on the horizon. 

“Afraid of heights, doctor?” your escort asks, his amusement borderline distasteful. It must stroke their ego to watch newcomers come aboard and flounder, gawking at the swells and waves crashing against the oil rig, each wave so cataclysmic that it’s a wonder the structure stays upright. A wonder of engineering, that is. 

The rig manager stands closer to the railing, staring without fear out into the ocean surrounding you. His sea legs are likelier studier than the ones that wash up ashore every fourteen days when he’s due for his OSHA mandated break. His knees don’t even buckle at the sight of the barnacles clinging nerve-wrackingly high up on the rig legs. Far too high up for comfort. 

“No, sir,” you reply, shaking your head. “Just water.”

He barks a laugh at that. “Plenny o’ that around here. Wouldn’y go leaning my head over the rail then, if I was you.”

You take another look down, balking at the frothy white streaking the latticework barrier around the jacket legs. No worries there; there isn’t a chance in hell you’ll be going anywhere near the rails. You’re too high up to know for sure, but you wonder if there are sharks plumbing the depths beneath the rig, excited by the noise and activity on board. 

You’d be shark chum if you went overboard. Beyond that, you’d be fish food; no sympathy from the sea to be found this far from land. 

“Where should I set up?” you ask instead. 

Sensing your eagerness to get started—and to get away from the edge of the rig—he gestures for you to follow him and sets off towards the door closest to you, leading you into the interior of the rig. “This way, doc—got a room already set up for ye. Cozier in there than out here.”

The first few days aren’t so bad after that. You spend the first day getting unpacked, your suitcase already waiting for you in your quarters, which doubles as your office, and then turn in early after prepping for the next day. 

As anticipated, you spend the next day hunched over the toilet bowl, stomach roiling from spending too long staring at the turbulent waters below. You’ve done this before but it never gets any easier. Despite your chosen field of research, you’re suited for dry land, not the sea. It’s the price you have to pay though. 

No coffee that first morning. Just tea to help settle your stomach. And it does for a bit—lets you get through your first day worth of tests without you upchucking while collecting water samples from the discharge point. You’ll save your indoor work for the days when the crests of the waves are high enough to spray the working deck. By dinner, your stomach is a little more settled, but still you elect to eat in your quarters instead of with the workers in the mess. 

You haven’t been on the rig long enough to have made any enemies, nor do you think that’s something that’ll happen during your brief time on board, but you definitely haven’t made any friends. It comes with the territory. The men that work on these rigs out in the middle of the ocean—even the ones on land, for that matter—tend to view your kind with distrust at the very least, if not outright hostility. 

It’s hard to blame them. The purpose of your visit isn’t to shower them with praises. You’re stationed on the rig for the next few days to collect data and samples to assess the environmental impact of the rig’s operations. It puts you somewhat at odds with them, the outcome of your work being potentially to the detriment of theirs. 

Some whisper the word like blasphemy. Government worker. They say it like you’re the Baba Yaga or a witch living in a cottage at the edge of the village, like uttering the word too loudly will summon you. There’s too much work to do around the rig for them to cluck their tongues like gossipy hens, but the men find time for it anyway. You’d roll your eyes if you were any greener. 

The truth is though, you’re used to it, and at this point in your career, you don’t have it in you to act like it’s such a shock that they wouldn’t give you the red carpet treatment. All you need is a hot cup of coffee, an office (or even just a desk) to write your reports, and some space to conduct your research without being badgered with questions.

Most of the men tend to blur together, a medley of fluorescent yellow hard hats and navy coveralls, respirators strung around their necks and goggles covering their eyes. It’s easy enough to mistake them for one another. 

Only one of them has managed to catch your eye so far, though you can’t say it’s for a particularly good reason. Of the lot of them, he’s the loudest. Which is saying something, considering that the crew tend to speak in shouts and hollers to make up for the crashing waves beneath them and the howling winds above them. He’s also among the tallest, broad shouldered and muscled—a former first responder or military, if you had to guess, though you keep your assumptions to yourself. 

You know better than to ask questions around him because you’ve learned in the short time that you’ve spent on the rig not to give him—Soap, they call him, or MacTavish when the rig manager is particularly pissed off—even an inch. 

It’s another crew member that gives you that heads up. “Din’y pay him any mind.”

“Who?” you ask, looking up from your work.

The crew member nods to the man posted on the other side of the main deck. “Soap. Bit of a showboat, that one. Always stirrin’ up the boys, gettin’ ‘em all riled up. Din’y let him distract ye too much.”

“Oh. Thanks.” You look back down at the data sheets in front of you. “I’m not worried though. He hasn’t been too much trouble.”

Famous last words. 

He isn’t too much trouble until he suddenly is; until he’s suddenly everywhere, always in your way somehow. Not so much underfoot as just always around the corner waiting with his stupid smug smirk that you’ve grown to despise and half-lidded electric blue eyes roving up and down the length of you. Aggravating you at every turn. 

Your first meeting is an accident. At least, it seems that way, and likely is—he seems too blunt for coincidences or chance meetings, happy to tell you to your face that he manipulated the situation in order to get you on your own. 

You’re wandering down one of the many circulatory hallways and slightly lost when a door suddenly opens, blocking your way. A jumpsuit-clad man twice your size walks out, his hair just brushing the top of the doorframe. Though you recognize him instantly, you’d never gotten close enough for the details to cement in your mental image of him. Up close, you get a better look.

The faint lines around his eyes and mouth betray either his age or the life he’s lived. Weathered; bronzed from days at a time spent under the sun. You’d noticed the mohawk earlier, but staring at the side of his head now, you can see the faint puckering of a healed wound splintering out from his temple into his hairline. Though the sides of his head are freshly shorn, the scar looks old—maybe a year, maybe more. 

When he notices that he’s not alone in the hall, his head turns in your direction and he stops, one foot still in the other room. Two thick brows go up at the sight of you standing there with your tablet clutched to your chest. 

“Hullo gorgeous,” Soap purrs, pupils suddenly pinpricks and your stomach drops. 

Because of course he would. You’d long figured he might be an arrogant piece of work from what little you’ve observed of him from across the rig, but you should’ve known he’d also be a flirt. He’s too good-looking not to be one. Tall and broad, with biceps the size of your head. You’re sure he rolls his shirt sleeves up just to feel them strain against the muscles of his arms. You certainly can’t help the way your eyes are drawn there. 

“Ah ken who ye are,” he says, taking a step towards you until the tips of his boots nearly touch yours. The door is still wide open behind him, swinging slowly towards the wall behind it. Soap towers over you easily, tipping his head to stare down at you. Your lips press into a tight line when his eyes drop to your chest, staring at the outline of your tits through your cardigan. 

“Okay,” you say through stiff lips.

“Yer that lass from the government. Ah thought ye'd be auld,” he jokes, shit-eating grin on his face. 

You nearly groan. It’s too early for this shit and you’re too tired from being up all night working on your report on the rig’s discharge water quality. 

“Well, I’m not,” you reply woodenly instead, altogether unimpressed with him. 

For as fit as he is, you’re not here to flirt or hookup, and you’re good at separating work and your personal life. If anyone manages to get under your skin enough to tempt you, it won’t be the man undressing you with his eyes while covered in a thin layer of grime and sweat. 

“Nae, yer no’,” he agrees, voice a low burr. His eyes flick up to meet yours. “I’m John, by the way.”

“I know.”

“…It’s polite tae give yer name when someone introduces thersel's tae ye.”

“I’d rather you just call me doctor.”

“Doctor, eh?” Soap purrs, running his tongue over his bottom lip. “Dae ye dae house calls, doc? Hae been feelin’ a wee bit feverish lately.”

You can’t help the way your cheeks heat at his comment. “Not that kind of doctor. Do you mind getting out of the way?”

“Jesus, I din’y ken ye’d be so fuckin’ prickly. Thought ye government workers were cheery a' the time.”

“Not when we have work to do,” you bite out, decidedly uncomfortable with his shameless perusal and eager just to get on with your day. “Can you move please? I have somewhere to be.”

All that does is force him to take another step closer, toe-to-toe with you now. You should’ve known he’d take that as an invitation. He reeks of grease and brine, the smell pungent and clinging to his skin and clothes. Almost like he sleeps and works in the same pair of coveralls instead of bringing his dirty clothes down to the laundry facility like everyone else at the end of the week. 

You tell yourself to stop staring at where his coveralls open to a sweat-slicked chest, dark hair poking up over the neckline, but your eyes don’t comply. A small cross dangles from a chain around his neck, nestled in the hair just above his pecs. 

“Good Catholic lass, are ye?” Soap asks, noticing the focal point of your gaze.

You scrunch up your nose at that. “No. I didn’t—it’s none of your business anyway.”

The stutter is where his eyes light up, a little gleam in the blue that lets you know you’ve caught his interest. Like seeing a storm well off in the distance and bracing for it anyway, knowing that you’re in its path no matter what you do. 

“A’right, doc, Ah'll leave ye tae it. Gotta get back myself anyway,” he says, rolling his shoulders back and standing up taller, and it’s only in that moment that you realize how low his neck had been bent in order to get closer to you. “Wait. I can’y let ye go lookin’ like that.”

You’re about to ask him what he means when he suddenly grabs you by the front of your cardigan and pulls you towards him, getting the grease on his hands all over the fabric. Your eyes nearly bug out of your skull as he pops the topmost button into its corresponding hole, the only one you’d left purposefully loose. 

The only reason you don’t snap at him to take his hands off you is because your tongue is a knot in your throat. 

“There we go,” Soap coos when the button is in, looking down at his handiwork all over the front of your shirt. “Lookin’ like part o’ the crew already.”

Your heart pounds in your chest long after he lets you go. When he steps to the side, the door flush with the wall by now, you dart around him, walking away as fast as your legs can carry you without sprinting. You ignore the way he belts out a laugh at your swift departure. Ignore the way your stomach cramps at the sound as well. 

He might end up being more trouble than you thought.

[germhammy]

“Christmas Aftermath”

Enid: I can’t believe the food last night. Everything was so delicious!

Wednesday: do you always require that much protein before wolfing out?

Enid: not really. But it helps. I was so touched that your mom had an entire roast prepared extra rare just for me! The medium rare roast would have been just fine. She didn’t have to go through the trouble

Wednesday: it wasn’t any trouble.

Enid: my favorite way of red meat cooking is medium rare. Except before wolfing out. Then extra rare is the best.

Wednesday: I look forward to taking you for Kobe beef on Friday. We will be taking the train into New York. We can do some shopping if you like.

Enid: my mom will be so jealous. She always complains about how expensive it is. Even Evan has asked. Just once?

Wednesday: I do not blame her actually. You have five brothers?

Enid: six actually.

Wednesday: nine people is quite a lot to dine on Kobe beef. Even we only go sparingly. It’s usually six of us.

Enid: we rarely go out to eat.

Wednesday: tonight we will go to the homeless shelter to provide help with the food service. I usually play my cello. My father fences with foam swords with the children

Enid: wow. Do you do that every year?

Wednesday: yes. My mother and Grandmama prepare a large cauldron of stew. When my Aunt Ophelia and Granny are here they help with arts and crafts

Enid: that’s really cool!

Wednesday: perhaps you could help out painting nails.

Enid: I could

Wednesday: tomorrow you are watching the Devils game with Lucas, correct?

Enid: excuse me? The Sharks game.

Wednesday: you are in New Jersey. This is New Jersey Devils territory

Enid: do you even watch hockey?

Wednesday: not as much as my brother. But we are Devils fans.

Enid: Will you be watching with me?

Wednesday: I will be leaving you with Pugsley. I will take advantage of the time to devote to my writing

Thing tapped to draw attention to Xavier’s phone

Thing: he is texting. He’s asking if you would like to join him in New York to watch the ball drop in Times Square

Wednesday signed and picked up the phone

-good morning gorgeous! Say, my dad and I will be in New York for New Years Eve! Care to join me in NYC to watch the ball drop?

-absolutely not. I do not even watch it on the television. Much less in person

-oh come on! It’s a once in a lifetime experience!

-not for me. I would much rather spend my New Year’s Eve in my backyard huddled around a fire with my family telling ghost stories and roasting things

-sounds boring

-truly you have not lived if you have not roasted food over a raging fire

-very funny. Don’t tell me. It’s like a cremation right? Or it’s just s’mores

-roasted apples with butter and cinnamon sugar, roasted vegetables, and our family favorite, elote

-still sounds boring. Come on! What’s better than partying all night I. times Square?

-literally anything? I would not be able to withstand the noise. The crowd. The lights. It is not for me. You enjoy your party. I will enjoy my quiet time with my family

Thing: how does he not understand?

Wednesday: I do not know, Thing. Oh. I did not put this out. I hid it from you and then forgot where I hid it until we were at breakfast.

Wednesday took out a neatly wrapped present and placed it on the floor in the middle of her room. She sat down in front of it placing Thing on the box

Wednesday: Enid. Come sit. Help Thing open his present since I imagine you will not only be helping him use it but he will allow you to use it as well.

When opened, Thing was happy. Enid squealed. It was a beautiful wooden bowl filled with essential oils, soft towels, and neroli bergamot hand lotion. Thing gave Wednesday a finger heart and lifted his pinky for Wednesday. She linked her pinky.

Thing: thank you very much, Wednesday

[gallierhouse]

I don’t think I could accrue wealth if I was a vampire. I simply wouldn’t know how. I love spending money. Realistically, I’d probably just use mind control for financial gain or wanton murder and falsified wills. But I really wouldn’t be good at it. I mean, it wouldn’t come naturally. I’d probably spend it all in the first week on something frivolous. I’d commission a fondant statue of myself. I’d attempt to replicate Damien Hirst at home and end up ruining the property with the formaldehyde. I’d get into oil painting and spill turpentine everywhere. I’d buy cars and crash them into the bushes. I’d have the grand idea to build life-sized marionettes of everyone I know and then I’d give up halfway and leave the parts strewn everywhere. I’d spend an inordinate amount of money surveilling everyone I know 24/7 and then I’d get bored after finding out too much about them and ruining the illusion of love for myself. I’d build an indoor pool that was three stories high and then abandon it because it’s too deep and therefore a little creepy. I’d buy every type of fabric and methodically set each one on fire to see how it burns. I’d definitely get really into arson. I enjoy arson. I’d break into houses to turn the gas on and watch it blow. I’d build a tank and fill it with sharks and I’d toss food in to watch them feed. I’d abandon them after I got bored. I’d collect rugs and plaster all four walls with them and make a complicated furred cave-like system inside my house. I’d kidnap famous people I was fond of and then get bored and accidentally leave them in dungeons. I’d set up shop in a UNESCO world heritage site because I’ve always really wanted to experience the ancient world firsthand. I’d pester older vampires about where they came from until they made me stop. I’d throw dishes at the wall and watch them break and then I’d throw axes and then I’d throw bowling balls. I’d drag my claws through the wallpaper and ruin everything. I’d key cars with them. I’d key people’s faces with them. I’d pour acid down the drain. I’d get really into tools, and I’d test them on all manner of surfaces. I’d get really into dehydrating things for a fortnight and it would culminate in me dehydrating things that shouldn’t be dehydrated. I’d watch blood soak through hardwood floors from the underside. I’d build water tanks a la The Prestige and put myself in them until I got bored. I’d get really into magic tricks, then get immediately frustrated when I wasn’t perfect at them, and then I’d kill the audience out of pride. I’d go to movies and tear up the projector if I didn’t like the film. I’d go to plays and I’d tie up everyone and try on all the costumes and play with the props if I liked the production. And if I didn’t like it I’d just have some breakfast. I’d go to church obsessively and then get frustrated one day and I’d eat the priest. I’d watch the pews from the rafters and and listen to confession. I’d get into ice sculpture and I’d get angry every spring. I’d get into robots and I’d build them to rip them apart. Then I’d start all over again. I’d study people and draw diagrams of their minds. I’d kidnap someone and go through their memories like a filing cabinet. I’d open up an ATM to see what it looks like inside. I’d probably feed things to escalators. Boring.

[eywaseclipse]

July is: pearl toned nail polish, papaya smoothies, gummy sharks, blueberry lemonade, collecting sea glass, gold jewelry on tan skin, wild hair, cold showers, bold colors, fun prints, shimmer lipgloss, fruit juice dripping down your arms, eucalyptus essential oil roll on, fresh lobster rolls, slasher movie nights, jellies, cute anklets, white loose blouses, surfing, honey mangoes, in season produce, watermelon with mint, gold chains, guaraná soda, outdoor showers, film cameras, friendship bracelets, karaoke night, coconut body butter, poké bowls, summer playlist, themed dinners, and flowers in hair 👙🥥🐬🥭🧃🫐 📸 🍣🍯🧉🧊🚿🩴 🤿🏄🏽‍♀️🎤🏝️

[paldean-sandwich-rater]

A sandwich.

It contains ice cream, whipped cream, sponge cake, meat balls, broccoli, pineapple, strawberries, tomatoes, lettuce, rice, noodles, mac and cheese, bacon, beef jerky, dried fish, seaweed, one of every Pokemon berry, jam, olive oil, lotus, dragon fruit, ravioli, ramen, tempura, teriyaki chicken, macaroons, escargots, mint, pepper, salt, sugar, croquettes, pickles, apples, avocados, sausages, bell peppers, grapes, pizza, a donut, cheese, more cheese, even more cheese, mushrooms, mustard, olives, a fried egg, a scrambled egg, blueberries, a poached egg, chawanmushi, a red bean bun, mochi, bbq sauce, chicken nuggets, french fries, takoyaki, pancakes, mackerel, salmon, coffee beans, spinach, a tiny bit of corn cream soup, ramensanga, fettucine alfredo, a plain bagel, pretzels, chocolate chip cookies, sweet potato, yam, potato, scallions, scallops, squid, crab stick, fish balls, fish cakes, oyster sauce, silken tofu, barley, cereal, paprika, oysters, red snapper, sea bass, plums, bean sprouts, garlic, string cheese, camembert, swiss cheese, mozzarella, parmesan cheese, yogurt, brinjal, a macdonald’s happy meal (without the toy and the packaging of course), truffles, caviar, tapioca balls, fried chicken, century eggs, cake sprinkles, dark chocolate, milk chocolate, white chocolate, milk tea (just a tinge), coffee (also a tinge), pudding, pumpkin, honey, mutton, mashed potatoes, bananas, icelandic fermented shark that they bury in the ground for months, raisins, dried mangoes, a drop of water, jelly, nata de coco, prunes, roasted pork, rosemary, bee pollen, peas, deer meat, rabbit meat, fish maw, ham, turkey, m&ms, chub, fufu, watermelon, winter melon, rock melon, coffee jelly, cacao, carrots, blueberries, black tea, dumplings, carrot cake, beetroot, purple cabbage, corn, celery, edamame, red beans, black beans, green beans, kidney beans, cashews, peanuts, pecans, sunflower seeds, walnuts, chickpeas, almonds, daikon, MSG, tamales, anchovies, tabbouleh, lions mane mushroom, chicken of the woods, kelp, octopus, durian, kimchi, crème fraîche, popcorn, cotton candy, everything bagel seasoning, capers, pears, marinara sauce, bittercress, butter cream, every single iteration of galarian curry, sushi, sashimi, kale and a very very specific ramen bowl (without the actual bowl) from a very particular shop located in Iwatodai.

And the top and bottom buns are somehow made from 50 different kinds of bread in a checker box pattern.

It comes with a picture.

Ingredients: I am not typing all of that out again. What the fuck.

Smell: You’ve taken an entire food court’s worth of food and made it into a sandwich. This isn’t even possible. Why am I considering this. 3/5

Taste: How do you eat this. 2/5

Texture: You get like 5 different foods every bite. This is not balanced. There is no harmony. This sandwich is the embodiment of disorder and chaos. 1/5

Presentation: The fact that this even looks sandwich adjacent is a fucking miracle. You don’t get full points though. Because I don’t like you. 3/5

Would Chunk Eat It?: He would eat maybe 1/50th of it. So no. 1/5

Final Score: 2/5

Critic’s Notes: Why would you waste this much food. Just host a party. Donate it. Something fucking anything I am begging at this point.

[thotsforvillainrights]

~The Shie Hassaikai Masterlist~

-”A Lovely Gift” Chisaki Birthday

-Chisaki is Clingier Than Usual

-”More” Setsuno Smut Imagine

-”Two of A Kind” Rappa vs his Daughter

-(Untitled) Setsuno Smut Imagine

-Deidoro Befriends the New Recruit

-Shie Hassaikai S/O sleeps with open eyes

-”Tender Hearts” Deidoro Smut Headcanons

-Shie Hassaikai Hobbies

-”Swallow It” Deidoro Smut

-The Hassaikai goes Paintballing

-”Dinner Time” Rappa Smut Headcanons

-”Sneaking Around” Nemoto Smut Headcanons

-Chisaki’s S/O Holiday Spoiling

-”Until the End of my Days” Hari Fluff

-Mimic’s S/O spoils him

-”Come Back Home” Deidoro Smut Headcanons

-Celebrating your Anniversary with Mimic

-Mimic’s Idea S/O

-”In Denial” Deidoro Fluff

-S/O with Pixie Quirk ft. Chisaki

-S/O likes to Leave Kiss Marks ft. Hari

-Nemoto x Trans Male Reader (Rivals to Lovers)

-Rappa’s Strong S/O

-Hassaikai S/O & Teddy Bear Prank

-2023 Holiday Prompts Chrono x 8

-Chisaki x Numb Reader

-2023 Holiday Prompts Chisaki x 17/18

-2023 Holiday Prompts Chisaki x 7/14

-Chisaki’s Quirkless S/O & The Hassaikai

-2023 Holiday Prompts Nemoto x 11

-2023 Holiday Prompts Chrono x 11

-”Practice” Tengai Hekiji Smut

-Chisaki’s S/O & the Rainy Day Accident

-Chisaki’s Metal S/O

-Assistant Baker Tabe Fluff

-Chisaki “Is it 5:00 yet?”

-Chrono “Pretty Please?”

-Setsuno “Arguments Backfire Sometimes”

-Chisaki “Tea By Midnight”

-Distracted Training with Chrono Smut

-Setsuno Becoming a Dad

-Tabe Being Sweet/Odd Around the House

-Chisaki “Picking up Strays”

-Chisaki & Some Sick Fluff

-”Not Here” Deidoro Smut Imagine

-”Burning the Midnight Oil” Setsuno Smut Imagine

-Shie Hassaikai & The Haunted House

-Chisaki holding his Baby Girl for the First Time

-”Just Like Daddy for Halloween” ft. Chisaki

-Friends with Benefits ft. Chisaki & Rappa

-”Infidelity” Shin Nemoto

-Chisaki’s S/O & The Long Trip

-”You’re My Teddy Bear” Rappa,Setsuno/Katsukame/Tabe/Nemoto

-The Morning After Taking Chisaki’s Virginity Smut

-Kink Headcanons ft.Setsuno & Rappa

-”Stressed Out Wreck” Chisaki

-”Sassy S/O ft.Chisaki

-Kissy Marks ft.Chisaki

-Hassaikai with a Tall S/O

-Chisaki’s Sick S/O

-Pumpkin Patch Date ft.Chisaki

-”Days Too Long” Setsuno Smut

-Comforting an S/O ft.Chisaki

-Lady Dimitrescu S/O & Rappa,Chisaki,Chrono

-Mute S/O ft.Chrono

-Hassaikai Idea Date Night

-Chisaki “Midnight Visitor (Alt.)

-The Hassaikai goes Bowling

-Nemoto & The P.I.

-Eloping with Chisaki

-”Immaculate” Chisaki Smut

-Hurricane Season ft.Setsuno

-Unplanned Pregnancy ft.Chisaki

-Love on an Island ft.Chisaki

-S/O with a Mist Quirk ft.Hassaikai

-”Anticipation” Setsuno Smut

-Getting a Love Letter ft.Pops

-What about little Kai & Pops

-”Say Please” Rappa Smut

-”So Busy” Nemoto Smut

-Tabe with a clingy S/O

-Spicy Time with Tabe

-”Desire” Tengai Hekiji Smut

-Hassaikai S/O with Teddy Bear Quirk

-Jungle Juice ft.Chisaki

-”Admiration” Setsuno Smut

-Setsuno, Hojo, & Tabe

-Chisaki “Sins of The Past”

-Hassaikai V-Day

-Deidoro Smut Headcanons

-Setsuno “Being an Adult is Hard”

-Hassaikai & Their Teddy Bear

-Pegging Kendo Rappa

-Rappa Cuddles

-Overstimming Chisaki Smut imagine

-Mimic’s Little Spouse/Family

-Soft Overhaul Smut

-”Oh He’s Baby” ft.Chisaki & Mimic

-Rappa’s S/O is Strong but Doesn’t Look it

-Singer S/O ft.Chisaki

-Hassaikai S/O getting badly sunburned

-Setsuno, Tabe & the De-Aging Quirk

-Hassaikai S/O Caught in Self Pleasure

-Chisaki’s Artsy S/O

-Cockwarming ft.Chisaki

-Setsuno & Rappa’s Small but Powerful S/O

-Getting Katsukame a Kitty Maid Outfit

-”Everything is Not as it Seems” ft.Chisaki

-Setsuno’s S/O looks like his Ex

-(Untitled) Stubble Chisaki Smut

-Stubble!Chisaki

-Chisaki’s Male S/O that looks like a Gal

-Hojo “To Cherish Someone Special”

-Tabe with a Bull Shark S/O

-Beach Day ft.Setsuno, Nemoto, & Deidoro

-I Love you for the First Time ft.Setsuno & Tabe

-Tabe’s S/O is Sweet & Sadistic

-Chisaki’s Daughter’s First Meeting with Pops

-”Walls” Setsuno

-Mimic’s S/O with a Daddy Kink

-”Worship” Tengai Hekiji Smut

-”Midnight Visitor” Chisaki

-S/O complimenting Muscles ft.Rappa

-Kai’s Reaction to his S/O’s new cut

-”Shower” Kai Chisaki Smut

-Complimenting their Muscle ft.Rappa

-Calling Chisaki a “good boy” as a joke

-Poly* Rappa & Muscular

-Smut Headcanons Kai & Hari ft. Muscular

-“Blanket Hog” Chisaki

-Tears During Cuddles for Setsuno ft. Tomura & Spinner

[accidentalkilljoys]

Pill-taking poll followup

#is this outrage bait #are we having a 'it never occurred to me someone would take 12 pills in one gulp because I can't do that' moment #or a 'I'm perfectly aware people take 10+ pills at once I just want attention and I don't care how I get it' moment

It’s not outrage bait, I swear! It honestly did not occur to me that, faced with a handful of small things of various sizes, shapes, and colors, tumblr users would NOT immediately sort them. (I personally take five in the morning, which I put in a little pile next to my cereal bowl, and then sneak them into my mouth between bites, largest first, like I’m tricking a dog.) 

I was not expecting over 50,000 responses to this poll. I have fewer than 100 followers, and that’s including the pornbots. But the notes are fascinating to read! 

“All at once,” or as one person called it, “the cursed jello shot,” was by far the most popular response, despite my forgetting to put it as a poll option. [The following quotes are all by different people.] 

Didn't realize there were other methods besides chaos #SHOTS SHOTS SHOTS #i slam them all back at once to take advantage of my powerful throat #i take pills with the same energy ppl in movies put their broken bone back in place #I will just shove them all in my mouth at the same time and hope I don’t die #<- YOU GOTTA SHOT GUN THEM BACK LIKE A CHEEP BEER #those mfs get gulped as a team #Genuinely I just chuck them all at once down my throat hole #i take my pills like a fucking whale shark ok!? #i gobble them up all at once like im a starving horse eating delicious gruel from the palm of a cowboy's (my own) hand. #all at once and I look like an owl eating a rat I unhinge my jaw, stuff them all in my mouth at once, then slam a big glass of water #all at once bby #all in one go baby #ALL AT ONCE BAYBE #ALL AT ONCE BABEY #Three at once baybee i am unstoppable #all at once babeeee

(There were also some people who were very judgy about people who can’t do the cursed jello shot, whose thoughts I am choosing not to reproduce here.) 

I am amazed at how many pills you all are taking at once. 

YES I usual to take 7 pills at once just to save time like a fucking animal #all at once #even if I have like 8 and they're huge #i take 9 pills at once about twice a day I take about 10 pills. I take them all at once. #i take 11 in the morning all at once including two large ones #i take 12 pills every morning and 7 at night and my family hates it but i just knock em back #i take them all at once #granted i take like 13 pills at once every night sometimes more #i take 15 pills every morning and i just swallow them all at once #i learned to take all 17 at once #i can swallow upwards of twenty pills at a time #i can easily swallow like 20-30 pills at a time

There were also a couple of notes from people who USED TO do the cursed jello shot but don’t anymore because they choked or, in one case, misfired and spent the day with a Claritin in their cleavage. 

Other things that didn’t occur to me: pills that dissolve under your tongue; people who use feeding tubes; the options of “in order from least tasty to most tasty;” random order; texture order; order in which they were prescribed; “whatever I grab first;” “all at once except the fish oil which is unreasonably large;’ order of how easy it is to swallow; in order of buoyancy because some pills float; by shape; “I only take one pill at once;” “top to bottom of my body so head pills first birth control last.” 

#i dont take any pills reglarly but secret 5th option had me think of someone fucking plinko-ing their pills

In conclusion: I’m glad we’re all doing what we need to do to survive and thrive. I’ll be over here with my cereal bowl. Thank you for participating in the poll. 

[snowlupinwoodstories]

Time To Get Your Nails Did!

Say hi to Jeremey, the red eared slider who has a date with a caimen girl. He needs his claws done because he's been neglecting them!

Jeremey tapped his claws against his shirt covered shell out of nervousness. He couldn’t believe he’d planned a first date without being sure he’d found a proper turtle claw salon! His nails were dull and he was worried he might be close to having them crack or break off since he hadn’t spent time making sure to keep up on natural filing. Sure they were long and attractive, but it wouldn’t be good if they snapped off in the middle of the date. 

He did however find a salon that accepted walk-ins. He decided it was better to take the chance and get someone to touch up his nails the right way, rather than try and undo all the neglect at home. 

It was a small place, nestled between a Starbugs and a Chinese take-out. It had faux plants in the window, and advertised itself as a premier nail spa. Jeremey entered, the door causing an electronic ‘ding’ to ring out in the small space. It was filled to the brim with chatter, several of the nail techs talking amongst themselves, or to their clients, seeming to run at least two conversations at once. He tapped his nails against his shell again. All the techs were women, and all those getting their nails attended to were also women. 

At a turtle claw salon, or a claw salon in general would at least have one or two more masculine people at any time. He felt out of place, the bright lights showing off the soft pinks and yellows, the chatter, all of it reminded him this was not a place where he belonged. 

“How can I help you?” A voice called from the back of the store as an alligator snapping turtle moved down the center of the store to the front. 

Relief settled into Jeremey’s mind. Another turtle would at least understand what he was needing. Maybe this wasn’t a lost cause. “I’ve been kinda neglectful of my claw maintenance,” he told her. “I need some help,” he splayed his claws out, careful not to wiggle them so she didn’t think he was flirting with her. That would be awkward. “I have a date tonight.”

“Ouff, honey these need work,” she grabbed his wrist and pulled him over to an open station, pressing a button to fill the bowl with warm water. “Now why don’t you tell me about this date of yours.”

“Is she a nice girl with a large shell?” she chuckled as she began to scrub Jeremy’s claws, removing the dead worn bits, buffing them to the darkier more healthy color hiding underneath.

“Well, she doesn’t really have a shell,” Jeremey told the older turtle. “She’s a caiman. We met while at a Warhammerhead 40k tournament at the local game store. She whooped my ass, but really liked the paint job on my hound shark faction. She wanted to have dinner somewhere and get some painting pointers.”

“Oh, someone likes his girls big and scaly do they,” she guaffed, wiping down each claw with a soft towel, letting her get a better look at the poor cracked and worn talons. “Hmm, I’ve got my work cut out for me,” she muttered as she grabbed a bottle of oil and began rubbing it into the claws, helping to moisturize and bring shine back to the claws. 

“W-well maybe. I mean she’s really attractive,” He choked back, watching as her claws rubbed the oil into his claws in small deliberate circles. “And she’s really smart. I didn’t expect her acrobatic katshark specialist army to route me as well as it did.”

“Is this some type of video game?” the matronly alligator snapper asked slowly working her way over the claws. Her own claws never stopped moving, rubbing in the healing oil and helping to fill in the cracks and snags. 

“Not a video game. A tabletop war game. You buy the miniatures, the game pieces and paint them. Then you play the game with them,” he explained. “Each piece has its own rules and what they do. I just didn’t expect her army, which is made out of light weight models with gimmicks, would work so synergistically well against mine!”

“But she liked how you painted your pieces?” She put the oiled towel away, pulling out a very fine file and going carefully over areas that were damaged to further smooth the area. She’d re-apply the oil as she went making sure to lock in the moisture from the water in front of them.

“Oh yeah, she was really stoked that I’d done some really cool non-metallic metal, basically making the piece look like it was made of metal without using metallic paint. And the shading. Her army was cool too-she made her army bluegrey-orange-white calico! The amount of control you need on the brush to get those spots to not look like splotches is really difficult!”

“I see,” she stared off into the distance before asking, “Would you mind if I went a bit wild with the lacquer on your nails? I think I have a fun idea for your date!”

“Uhh, really just the clear lacquer is fine. It’s not like she knows turtle culture and I don’t want her to think I’m gay or something,” Jeremey pressed.

“Listen here!” She barked roughly grabbing his foot and pulling it towards her, “If she can’t handle a turtle with painted claws then turtles are too good for her. It's important to show them off, and may encourage you to spend extra time caring for them. “

She grabbed a white bottle of lacquer, and began brushing it on, the gray polish coating and sinking into the cracks and the rest of the claw, helping to protect and draw more attention. “You will feel better for it too, don’t let other ideas make you feel less of a person for honoring your heritage.”

Jeremey went silent, knowing better than to argue with an older matron about claw lacquer. He remembered his mother painting his claws red when he was a young hatchling, saying it brought out the red around his ears. Or when his mom and dad went on date nights, they’d both spend time lacquering each other’s claws in complementary colors. 

He watched silently as she applied the gray lacquer to every other claw, making it obvious that she was planning to build some type of two tone effect. “How did you paint your pieces?” she asked as she picked over her colors.

“Oh, my army is painted in a dark blue gray with white accents. Really hard to get right, he let slip out. 

“I see, then we’ll start with a dark blue lacquer,” she grabbed the bottle and began to tint the other claws. Once they were coated she switched back to the grey ones, coating them with a thin coat of bright white, thoroughly changing the color of the claws. She coated the blue ones with a thin coat of grey before switching to a much thinner brush, and that was where the artistry began. 

Orange and blue-gray spots nestled together on the white claws, and white tips and edges further tied the look together on the blue-gray claws.  A clear coat was applied at the end before she turned on a blue light and held it over his claws. “Just sit there a few minutes while I get your bill tallied,” she left him to grab an ancient calculator with paper printing out of it, typing each number with one claw at a time. 

Ten minutes went by and Jeremey couldn’t help but admire his claws. They were shiny, bright, the cracks were well hidden and they gave a lovely clack-clack sound whenever he tapped them. He was surprised that the snapper only charged him for a fill and buff, but when he tried to ask she simply said, “Go land that gator-girl!” she all but shoved him out the door, with an excited cackle.  

@bloobluebloo @standingpillar @doveghost @asordidbarwere @stoneshrike @saphoblin

[highfire3]

1) 5:05 am

2) the break of dawn

3) door to the future

4) bridge (this is foreshadowing)

5) when all else fails, beer happy

6) waiting at the platform

7) shark on da train

8) going through the rail bridge (as foreshadowed)

9) colorful oil tanker

10) giraffes

pics from my adventure yesterday <3

Ended up making it back to downtown at around 8:40

The west coast experience is so cool and something that I have been meaning to do for a while, though i didn’t expect it to happen so spontaneously

Total cost of the day: $5 train ticket + $5 dollarama stop + $18 poke bowl (not pictured here)

[chaos-cousins]

Pelipper mail!

A sandwich.

It contains ice cream, whipped cream, sponge cake, meat balls, broccoli, pineapple, strawberries, tomatoes, lettuce, rice, noodles, mac and cheese, bacon, beef jerky, dried fish, seaweed, one of every Pokemon berry, jam, olive oil, lotus, dragon fruit, ravioli, ramen, tempura, teriyaki chicken, macaroons, escargots, mint, pepper, salt, sugar, croquettes, pickles, apples, avocados, sausages, bell peppers, grapes, pizza, a donut, cheese, more cheese, even more cheese, mushrooms, mustard, olives, a fried egg, a scrambled egg, blueberries, a poached egg, chawanmushi, a red bean bun, mochi, bbq sauce, chicken nuggets, french fries, takoyaki, pancakes, mackerel, salmon, coffee beans, spinach, a tiny bit of corn cream soup, ramensanga, fettucine alfredo, a plain bagel, pretzels, chocolate chip cookies, sweet potato, yam, potato, scallions, scallops, squid, crab stick, fish balls, fish cakes, oyster sauce, silken tofu, barley, cereal, paprika, oysters, red snapper, sea bass, plums, bean sprouts, garlic, string cheese, camembert, swiss cheese, mozzarella, parmesan cheese, yogurt, brinjal, a macdonald’s happy meal (without the toy and the packaging of course), truffles, caviar, tapioca balls, fried chicken, century eggs, cake sprinkles, dark chocolate, milk chocolate, white chocolate, milk tea (just a tinge), coffee (also a tinge), pudding, pumpkin, honey, mutton, mashed potatoes, bananas, icelandic fermented shark that they bury in the ground for months, raisins, dried mangoes, a drop of water, jelly, nata de coco, prunes, roasted pork, rosemary, bee pollen, peas, deer meat, rabbit meat, fish maw, ham, turkey, m&ms, chub, fufu, watermelon, winter melon, rock melon, coffee jelly, cacao, carrots, blueberries, black tea, dumplings, carrot cake, beetroot, purple cabbage, corn, celery, edamame, red beans, black beans, green beans, kidney beans, cashews, peanuts, pecans, sunflower seeds, walnuts, chickpeas, almonds, daikon, MSG, tamales, anchovies, tabbouleh, lions mane mushroom, chicken of the woods, kelp, octopus, durian, kimchi, crème fraîche, popcorn, cotton candy, everything bagel seasoning, capers, pears, marinara sauce, bittercress, butter cream, every single iteration of galarian curry, sushi, sashimi, kale and a very very specific ramen bowl (without the actual bowl) from a very particular shop located in Iwatodai.

And the top and bottom buns are somehow made from 50 different kinds of bread in a checker box pattern.

What the actual fuck.

It has whipped cream on it. Disgusting.

THAT'S WHY ITS DISGUSTING????

No it's just the first thing I saw that grossed me out and you know I hate whipped cream

[multi-fan-dom-madness]

Yeeeeeeess

Nav: 👗🌼💌🦸‍♀️🥘🍁

And for a little treat:

Clone Boys: 👀

I have asked so much but I need to knooowwww

Take your time, Ily 🌙🔮

ahhh yessss thank you so much, Hex, for asking all of these wonderful questions. answers below the cut because this got away from me 😂😅

Nav:

👗 Describe their style

when they worked on Coruscant before joining the GAR, they 100% rocked the thrifted light academia aesthetic, but it never fully fit their personality.

on the run from the Empire, and just in everyday life, they are much more prone to utilitarian, functional garments in neutral tones. sleeveless tunic belted over utility pants, with steel-toed boots and their trusty backpack. they steal one of Hunter's old bandanas and tie it around their bicep; Hunter loves it. and of course once they settle on Pabu, they start wearing more tank tops and shorts, soft-bottom shoes, a shark-tooth necklace that Omega crafts.

used to have long hair, but cut it really short when they joined the GAR and just never grew it out again.

they also have a single tattoo, a complementary pair to one that Arien had, on their ribs: a deadly cactus flower native to Iridonia. (Arien's was a sketch of Umate, the mountain peak on Coruscant.)

🌼 Assign them an aesthetic

alright take all of the above and now consider: space grunge

💌 How would they react to a love letter?

sorry my first thought here is the fact that Hunter would write said love letter and now I've made myself squee

anyways. on topic. I think the circumstance would be something like, Hunter writes a letter for Nav and leaves it for them to find somewhere, so it's a surprise. like, at the bottom of their pack (because we all know how often Nav cleans that out... 👀). & then reading it they'd need to sit in case they swoon, the paper held in one hand while the other is clasped over their mouth to hide their smile. definitely blushes. depending on how sappy Hunter got while writing, Nav may or may not tear up.

& then immediately tackle Hunter into a giant hug and smother him with kisses.

🦸‍♀️ What would they dress as for Halloween?

Nav would totally talk Hunter into couples' costumes--and of course that means Omega's costume is also themed, which probably means everyone else's as well. the squad as bowling pins and Omega as a bowling ball?

but for one year, Hunter and Nav make sure that their costumes match each other's and only each other's. Hunter as a werewolf and Nav as a werewolf hunter 👀

🥘 Favorite food?

this depends. if we're talking like, most nostalgic, then it's definitely the beef stew and crusty bread that the matron of the orphanage made on a regular basis. a whole big vat of the stew and the huge ovens made the entire building always smell so good.

but now as an adult, their favorite is the salad that Shep taught them to make on Pabu. starfruit and berries, nuts, crumbly cheese, and a decadent oil-based dressing. filling, sweet, and savory all in one.

that, or Hunter's meat pies. Hunter totally learns that he loves to cook once they all settle down on Pabu.

🍁 Their favorite season and why?

alright hc time: Coruscant doesn't have seasons, & Pabu basically has 2: hot and hotter. Iridonia is probably the same, though it gets chilly at night. therefore, Rintonne is the one planet that Nav has been to relatively frequently enough to experience four seasons. their favorite is by far autumn, with spring coming in second. there's something about transitory periods, life in flux, that just Hits Different for Nav. spring is in second place because allergies lmao.

Clone boys:

👀 How do they look like? Give an overall description of them

ohohoho strap in, here we go

387th Battalion, 13th Sector Army

Commander Creed. he presents a very stern, disciplined facade that intimidates shinies and civvies alike, but in reality he's very soft and compassionate. it's what makes him such a strong leader. he's unafraid to voice his opinion when he believes his Jedi General is making a foolish or wrong move, but is humble enough to admit when he's wrong. well-trimmed beard and mustache, undercut with a mop of dark curls. there's a scar from an errant blaster bolt during commando training, that streaks down the left side of his face. he has a tattoo under his left pec that reads 'for the people' in blocky Basic letting--that is his creed. he has a second tattoo on his right hip of his battalion's mascot (pls don't ask me what this is, idk yet).

Captain Static, Shatter Company. earned his name because when he was a cadet, he always pretended to talk on the radios with sound effects (*cksh* come in, command, *cksh*). he's a little bit naive, but very loyal and values intelligence. he often volunteers his company for recon missions, having trained them specially to communicate effectively. he's clean-shaven, with a stud nose piercing and regulation haircut.

Captain Flare, Phoenix Company. loves, loves, loves flare guns and will pout (mostly in jest these days) if he doesn't get the chance to pop one off at least once during a campaign. he's loud and unapologetic, a little cocky, but he does genuinely mean well and respects the hell out of anyone who can outwit his twin, Seg. with a permanent five o'clock shadow, brilliant white teeth, and that one perfect curl that always rests so nicely on his forehead, he's hot and he kriffin' knows it.

Captain Seg, Flare's twin, commanding officer of Angel Company. Seg is a little bit more withdrawn and quiet than Flare, but no less quick-witted--and quick-tempered. he often waits for an opening in his enemy's forces rather than making an opening himself (he leaves that to Shatter & Phoenix Companies). this is both in terms of battle tactics and verbal sparring. often known for silently observing conversations or debates, and drops one-line zingers that leave the entire table slack-jawed and/or in uproarious laughter. he's the most "reg" looking of the captains, but don't let that fool you.

Captain Drifter, of Hollow Company. Drifter is an old grumpy man at heart, rather pessimistic, but can be charming and suave when the occasion arises. something of a social chameleon, often chosen for diplomatic missions alongside the General. he's sarcastic but genuine, a balance he learned early on how to maintain, and it's gotten him into trouble as much as out of it. he has ear piercings, a septum ring, and a huge geometric tattoo sleeve on his right leg; and sometimes lets his hair grow out to about shoulder length.

Bonus boys! Hotshot and Screwball, ARC troopers, who featured briefly in Second Chances. Hotshot has a buzzcut and goatee, vitiligo, a rough hand-drawn star tattoo beneath his left eye, and a scar across the bridge of his nose. Screwball has long hair that he keeps tied back in a low bun, and a scar along the right side of his face. both Hotshot and Screwball are pranksters (and don't get me started on when they have shore leave with Screwball's twin, Misfit), but very, very good at their jobs. they specialize in destabilizing the enemy from behind enemy lines, often using their chaotic impulses to their advantage.

anyways thanks again so much, Hex, for letting me ramble about my blorbos 💖💖

[ziodyne-amax]

Pelipper mail! (To kotone)

A sandwich.

It contains ice cream, whipped cream, sponge cake, meat balls, broccoli, pineapple, strawberries, tomatoes, lettuce, rice, noodles, mac and cheese, bacon, beef jerky, dried fish, seaweed, one of every Pokemon berry, jam, olive oil, lotus, dragon fruit, ravioli, ramen, tempura, teriyaki chicken, macaroons, escargots, mint, pepper, salt, sugar, croquettes, pickles, apples, avocados, sausages, bell peppers, grapes, pizza, a donut, cheese, more cheese, even more cheese, mushrooms, mustard, olives, a fried egg, a scrambled egg, blueberries, a poached egg, chawanmushi, a red bean bun, mochi, bbq sauce, chicken nuggets, french fries, takoyaki, pancakes, mackerel, salmon, coffee beans, spinach, a tiny bit of corn cream soup, ramensanga, fettucine alfredo, a plain bagel, pretzels, chocolate chip cookies, sweet potato, yam, potato, scallions, scallops, squid, crab stick, fish balls, fish cakes, oyster sauce, silken tofu, barley, cereal, paprika, oysters, red snapper, sea bass, plums, bean sprouts, garlic, string cheese, camembert, swiss cheese, mozzarella, parmesan cheese, yogurt, brinjal, a macdonald’s happy meal (without the toy and the packaging of course), truffles, caviar, tapioca balls, fried chicken, century eggs, cake sprinkles, dark chocolate, milk chocolate, white chocolate, milk tea (just a tinge), coffee (also a tinge), pudding, pumpkin, honey, mutton, mashed potatoes, bananas, icelandic fermented shark that they bury in the ground for months, raisins, dried mangoes, a drop of water, jelly, nata de coco, prunes, roasted pork, rosemary, bee pollen, peas, deer meat, rabbit meat, fish maw, ham, turkey, m&ms, chub, fufu, watermelon, winter melon, rock melon, coffee jelly, cacao, carrots, blueberries, black tea, dumplings, carrot cake, beetroot, purple cabbage, corn, celery, edamame, red beans, black beans, green beans, kidney beans, cashews, peanuts, pecans, sunflower seeds, walnuts, chickpeas, almonds, daikon, MSG, tamales, anchovies, tabbouleh, lions mane mushroom, chicken of the woods, kelp, octopus, durian, kimchi, crème fraîche, popcorn, cotton candy, everything bagel seasoning, capers, pears, marinara sauce, bittercress, butter cream, every single iteration of galarian curry, sushi, sashimi, kale and a very very specific ramen bowl (without the actual bowl) from a very particular shop located in Iwatodai.

And the top and bottom buns are somehow made from 50 different kinds of bread in a checker box pattern.

I’m. I’m not even sure how you managed to fit all this. This is beautiful in its monstrosity…

[scarcelymurmuring]

One Lip to Earth & One Lip to Heaven

To a smaller than average man -- stretched out in the crease of her tongue with one heel hooked over his opposite ankle, leaning back, palms flat, idly massaging the shag of papillae with his fingers running between them -- to him, the view would be beautiful. The rusty bluffs of teeth above -- he wouldn’t see the lower row, on account of the bulk of the tongue -- would part directly before him. And being the only soul sitting right there, it’d feel -- he’d know it isn’t so, but it would feel -- like they’d parted just for him -- so that he could see what he’d see: one lip eclipsing the earth below, the other wrapped around heaven, in its trembling emerald firmanent. The vapours would sting his eyes and so he’d blink them hard and fast. They’d water a bit, which would help. Light would play on the cosmic glass and warp as the universe tilted. He’d have to shift his weight back to his palms, and clench fistfuls of taste buds to keep from slipping. But not because he’s afraid to die. He would be afraid, of course, like anyone would be, but he’d know where he is and why. He’d know what’s going to happen. He’d’ve found his steel. He’d breathe in through his nose, and out through his mouth and he might be getting a little lightheaded but his sinuses would be very clear. He’d think of the day his son had brought him to a Turkish bath in the city, and the bowl of eucalyptus oil that wobbled the light on the tiles. His thoughts would clear. He’d breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth. It wouldn’t be that he wasn’t afraid. He’d just want to meet it calm and alert, and not scurry away from the beauty of the thing like he had somewhere better to be. As the slope of heaven grew steeper he would brace himself, pause, let his muscles go slack, and allow his body to yield. Without closing his eyes he’d imagine -- or rather anticipate propioceptively -- the moulting away of his skin and the cage of his chest hatching open. When the pale river poured in at last he’d surrender without hesitation.

But there was less than a sip in there left.

He’d barely’ve gotten wet.

Shalim lobbed the Great White empty onto the heap of coats in the corner and stood. This proved overambitious. She sat back down on the air mattress, which had deflated in the night, and rested her head between her knees. Her bowels squealed and squirmed. She sprawled savasana and counted her breaths. She got back to her feet, slowly, this time, with one hand on the wall. She squinted. The sun was at its winter peak and cut through the glass at eye level. She stumbled across the living room to the heap in the opposite corner. Patches of carpet were wet. A CD case crunched underfoot. She patted down the faux fur coat on top till she found a pair of sunglasses, Mike’s. They gave him a feminine, buglike look. She put them on. They helped. The green glass bottle with the shark on the label had rolled to the side of the pile. Her throat was parched and her tongue felt thick so she took it and made her way to the kitchen.

The dishes were piled high in the sink, with an unfinished bowl of cereal wedged under the spout. She put the bottle in an empty pot on the stove and with both hands loosened a plate from the stack, just underneath the bowl. Ceramic ground on ceramic. A white-winged moth on its back in the milk flailed its miniscule legs.

This text lives at the feralmachin.es blog, where its most recent revision, some additional notes, and other writing can be found.

[dr-drckken]

Jun’s Carrot Soup:

@moon-yeongjun

Another obvious one fjdsklfdjska except when it came to me I was feeling PRETTY intelligent. Anyway, it’s basically just butternut squash soup but instead of the squash it’s carrots. I wanted Jun to have a soup because that just fits him to me, like out of everyone in your characters he is the most soup.

Ingredients:

Butter or Oil (for preppin the pan)

1 medium onion (up to you on if you want white or yellow, my ass prefers yellow tho since she’s sweet)

3-5 cloves of garlic depending on who you are as a person

1 pound of carrots (peeled, chopped)

2 cups of broth (vegetable or chicken, it’s up to you honestly)

½ teaspoon salt

Things you can add to it, depending on your mood: Cayenne pepper Curry powder Apples, Nutmeg, Ginger, Cinnamon Thyme Lemon Juice

Instructions:

Chop and peel your vegetables. You will be blending all of this up so you don’t have to be a chef about it.

Over medium heat on the stove top, heat a large pot or Dutch oven. Add butter or olive oil.

Add the onion and garlic, cook until the onions are soft, stirring occasionally, about 7-10 minutes.

Add carrots, yes all of them bad boys. (NOTE: this is also where you would add any additions for the flavor profile!!! Any spices, other vegetables, etc.) Cook for another like 3-5 minutes.

Add the broth and salt. Bring up to a boil then turn back down to the medium heat and cover the pot. Let it simmer for 20-25 minutes or until the carrots are soft when you check on them.

LET IT COOL SLIGHTLY so you’re not burning your fingers off as you do this while you get out your blender and set up another big bowl for transferring your final soup product into.

Pour as much as you dare (meaning not enough that it’s going to overflow or splash when you turn on the blender) into the blender. Cover the top and blend until smooth. Smooth smooth, like a dolphin or shark. Continue until all of the soup is blended down.

ORDER UP!