#pet: skunky

[benevolentbirdgal]

I don't want to live on a working farm, but I'd love to be in the kind of area where animals casually hang out. Not domesticated, not pets, just I Am Local Familar Wildlife To The Other Local Wildlife. A chubby groundhog napping under my porch. A skunk, completely unthreatened, meandering around my garden. Ducks strutting by my yard as the wander to the pond. Birds napping in my trees. A snake sunning itself.

[soullumii]

carnival lights | joel miller x f!reader

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

summary: you take joel to the yearly summer carnival.

warnings/tags: pure fluff, little bit of sexual humor, fake gun use! (water guns), carnival fun, no outbreak!joel, soft!joel, modern au, food, implied age gap (reader is in her 20s, joel is in his 40s), pet names (peach, darlin', sweetheart, baby), established relationship. (can be read as part of the stranded universe!), NO USE OF Y/N

word count: 3.5k

a/n: something cute while i work on stranded part 2. there's no plot, just vibes

taglist: @hecatombix @thatmemechick @sexygaypalpatine

“I can’t believe you dragged me out to this mess,” Joel grumbles. 

Warm summer air settles over the both of you as screams from excited kids and terrified people on rollercoasters echo around you in the night. Joel’s scowl is illuminated by flashing lights from various pop-up mirror mazes, haphazardly put together ferris wheels, and scandalously painted funhouses.

Seriously, though, why does the children’s funhouse have a mural of a Parisian can-can dancer plastered on the front of it, her fish-netted vagina visible from quite literally any angle within this carnival?

It’s so incredibly ridiculous, and you absolutely love it. You just love carnivals—always have. 

Even if they’re probably a safety hazard, even if the creepy clowns wandering about scared you a lot as a kid, and even if the sweet aroma of funnel cakes and fried Oreos and cotton candy mixes with the skunky smell of cheap weed. It brings back memories. And yeah, it might give you a headache after a few minutes, but it’s everything you adore, even if you’re in your late twenties now. 

“It’s fun, Joel. Have you ever heard of fun?” You tease, dragging him along the dirt path littered with cigarette butts and mystery liquids. You get a whiff of hot dog.

Joel must get it too, because his nose scrunches and he steps aside a dubious pile of something inscrutable. “My definition of fun ain’t exactly this.”

“Look! That looks fun!” You point excitedly toward a ride called “The Zipper” rising high in the sky, its metal capsules filled with adrenaline junkies swinging back and forth as the entire ride spins on an axis.

“Jesus Christ,” Joel swears under his breath.

“What? Don’t you want to ride it?” 

When you glance over at him, he’s looking particularly green, though you can’t exactly tell if that’s from the spinning cups next to you flashing green and white or if he’s truly feeling unwell.

“Are you okay?” You ask, sincerity coating your words as you turn to him. 

“I’m fine,” he shakes his head. “I just—you should’ve taken Ellie and Sarah with you. I’m not any fun at these kinds of things.”

“Joel…” you say, a teasing smile growing as your hand lands on his arm. “Are you scared?” 

He scowls, but hesitates in his answer, gaze darting away from you. “No.”

Liar. “Joel, it's okay if you’re scared,” you say. “We don’t have to ride any rides. I wanted to come with you just to spend time with you.”

His gaze softens and he sighs. “I know, peach. I wanna spend time with you, too. And for the record, I’m not scared, I’m just concerned about… my back.”

“Riiight,” you smirk. “Let’s go find something to do that won’t hurt your back then.”

You find a funnel cake stand charging $15 per cake. Joel grumbles about how ridiculous, and frankly, illegal it is that they’re charging so much for what is basically a scribble of fried dough as he pulls out his wallet.

“It's about the culture of it all, Joel,” you declare as you take a bite of doughy and powdered sugar goodness. “It’s just what carnival goers do. It’s only once a year, they can make the sacrifice.” You tear off a piece of it and give it to him. 

“I guess seein’ Sarah smile after eatin’ fried oreos was worth it," he relents as he takes the cake and plops it into his mouth, humming gratefully and yes! you’re starting to wear him down! 

“Exactly.”

After you both finish your funnel cake among a screaming swath of kids, you drag him toward the farm animals. This, he has to like. 

You enter into the tent, Joel’s hand tucked in yours, and the smell of manure and dirt immediately choke the both of you, the scent trapped in by the heat and the plastic material of the tarp. Joel somehow seems to look even worse than he did when you mentioned the Zipper.

“These poor animals,” he whispers, eyes wide as he takes in the fences sectioning off llamas and sheep and highland cattle. “They should be out wanderin’ in a field.”

“They do, Joel,” you insist, squeezing his hand. “It’s just for tonight. Come on, let’s go pet one.”

After a snot-nosed child stumbles away from the sheep pen, Joel makes his way over. He frowns down at them, reaching a hand in through the fence to pet them. The sheep inch forward, pressing their wet noses into his palm, and he strokes their soft wool lovingly. Your heart flutters at the sight.

And then you hear him whispering to them: “I’ll get you out of here.”

Before Joel can do something drastic, like wrench open the fence on pure strength alone (which you know he is absolutely capable of), you drag him out of the tent. Your spirits are extinguished, the night feeling more and more like a failure. You have to get him to have fun, somehow.

“Those poor animals,” he says again, shakes his head as you draw him toward the game booths.

“They’ll be okay, Joel,” you reassure gently, rubbing his shoulder blades. 

He just shakes his head again, and your heart fractures. You plaster on a smile and set him in front of a booth with two plastic water guns tethered to a ledge, at the far end of the booth are targets bobbing up and down, moving along a track.

“Let’s play this!” You say, handing the teenage booth manager a dollar bill. He chews his gum apathetically, and pulls the lever to start up the game. 

This piques Joel’s interest and he watches you grab the pistol-shaped water gun, aiming it at a target, your eye winking as you train your gaze on a target. 

“No, no, I can’t let you shoot like that,” he says, grabbing the pistol. He maneuvers your hands, “Left squeezes on the right, darlin’.” He then adjusts your arms and tries to grab the pistol from you, but it's sturdy in your new grasp, not going anywhere.

“There,” he says, proud, and grabs the other gun, pointing it at the first target. “Good luck, peach. You're gonna need it.”

“We’ll see about that,” you tease. You have no idea what you’re getting into.

“Start,” the booth manager monotonously drawls.

Before you can even pull the trigger, three of Joel’s targets are down, and he is cackling as he obliterates the others on his side. Your jaw drops, eyes widening.

Because, what the hell?

You scramble to catch up, pressing the trigger rapidly at your own targets, but only a few hits land. By the time the bored teenager calls ‘game’, Joel’s got his arms over his chest, watching you with a satisfied smile as you try in vain to shoot the last three targets on your side.

You turn to him in shock, but your bones feel light, your pulse beating rapidly because at least he’s finally having fun. And, admittedly, his skill is attractive.

“You should see your face right now,” he laughs.

“You won this,” the teenager drones, holding out a big fluffy teddy bear, half the size of Joel. 

“I’m keepin’ this,” Joel says, grabbing the bear and holding it close. He looks ridiculous, holding that giant teddy bear in his corded arms, peppered locks falling over his forehead. Ridiculously handsome. Ridiculously cute. You've got to keep this going.

“What? Seriously? You’re not going to give your girlfriend the bear you won?” You pout. He just smiles wider. 

“Darlin’, you’ve gotta earn this. Your shootin’ was pathetic.” He grabs another dollar from his wallet and hands it to the red-headed teen. “Another one, kid.”

Instead of grabbing his own pistol when the game starts up again, Joel comes in close around your back, warm chest pressing against your shoulder blades as his hands skim down your arms. He lays a chaste kiss on the side of your throat and your heart beats rapidly like a bird’s, warmth settling within you, a flush dusting your cheeks at his proximity. 

His broad palms land on yours, and he adjusts your hold again like he did last time. “This was good. Your aim, on the other hand…”

“I’ve never shot a fucking gun before, Joel,” you defend.

“This is a water gun, peach.” You grumble as he drags your arms up, sets them in a position that is honestly not very comfortable, but you can see how it might be easier for aiming. 

“Aim that ‘lil notch at the top of the gun in the middle of your target.” You follow his instruction dutifully. “Good, now shoot.”

It’s all in good fun, the gun light and cheap in your hand, but you treat it as if you truly are about to shoot a real gun, if only because your competitive nature likes to take over. You take a deep breath and let it out, then pull the trigger. The target goes down swiftly.

Joel pulls back, grinning down at you. “Nice job, peach.”

You preen at his praise.

“Alright, now hit the next one.” 

You do just that. He holds his hand up for a high five and you slam your palm onto his, laughing giddily. "I'm so fucking good at this!"

He hisses, shaking his stinging hand out, “Why do you always high five so hard?”

“The game’s almost done,” the teenager warns.

You turn and deflate at the sight of ten targets still standing, confidence leaving your body in one fell swoop. You have about twenty seconds to shoot the last targets, and you wilt, knowing that’s absolutely not going to happen. You gaze sadly at the stuffed whale hanging from the awning. 

Joel, noticing your disappointment, grabs his own pistol and fires off at his targets, each painted bullseye flinging back as the water hits it, the targets dropping one by one in quick succession. Even the moving ones he finds easily, spraying them with firm focus, eyebrows furrowed over his hard eyes. 

He finishes with five seconds to spare, and a smirk on his lips. He makes a show to pretend to blow smoke away from the water gun’s barrel, and you can't help but laugh. You never see him this goofy, and it makes your body tingle with happiness.

The booth manager rolls his eyes and gets the whale down, handing it to Joel. You give him the biggest puppy eyes you can manage, lips puckered in a pout, and you can see the moment it hits him right in the heart, his smile growing soft, the way he looks away from you, turning to try and hide it. But he can’t, and you tremble at the sight feeling so full, so warm. 

“Come on, Joel. I’m never going to be as good as you–which by the way, where the fuck did you learn to do that?” You say, grabbing the tail of the whale and tugging. 

"Growin' up on a farm, darlin'. Tommy was always wantin' to shoot the ducks."

"Ah, so you're a master at duck hunting, huh?"

He shrugs. "You could say that."

He tugs the whale away from your grasp, gesturing to the booth. "Alright, one more game. Come on baby, you can do it."

You groan, and he hands another dollar over. The kid looks even more bored. Maybe even annoyed at this point. You don't blame him. You grab the pistol, and get to shooting, not without spraying some water at Joel first. He doesn’t even flinch.

Five targets later (you never could get the full ten), you're whooping and hollering as the kid hands you a fluffy monkey plushie.

"There we go!" Joel praises. “Nice goin’ peach!”

You do a little happy dance, not caring if you look ridiculous, and Joel tucks you into his side, throwing another dollar bill at the apathetic teen.

“For your patience,” he says. You giggle loudly into your palm.

“I don’t get paid enough to be here,” the kid mumbles as Joel tugs you away and back through the carnival.

You look up at him, taking in his carefree expression, the content smile on his face, and the way the lights flash off his eyes, making them sparkle. His strong arm is wrapped around your waist, your cheek pressed into his shoulder.

“Finally having fun?”

He looks down at you, eyebrow quirking. “What’d’ya mean? I’ve been havin’ fun this whole time.”

You stop, pulling back to really look at him, blinking in disbelief. “What? But you’ve seemed so… upset. The rollercoasters, the funnel cake...the animals."

Joel’s smile slips, and a clear sincerity takes hold in his eyes. “Darlin’ none of that matters to me. Just bein’ with you is enough to make anythin’ fun.”

“Oh,” is all you can say, nerves thrumming, mind racing.

“I’m sorry I made you feel otherwise, I'm not very good with emotions," he says, threading his fingers with yours, and your heart stutters. You knew that. He’s always been a closed book, and even if he does decide to be more open, it can be hard to truly decipher how he feels. Though he’s always quick to assure you that you mean everything to him.

“I’ll ride a damn rollercoaster with you anytime if you really want me to.”

This is why you love him so damn much.

You beam, though it turns teasing, “Thanks, Joel, but I don’t want to hurt you.” You poke his lower back.

Joel chuckles. “My back is fine. I’m just scared.”

“Oh really? Finally admitting it, Miller?“

"You know I struggle with admitting my flaws, darlin'."

"Right, because you hardly have any."

"Exactly."

"Well, anyway, I have an idea."

"Do ya now?”

You drag him toward the giant ferris wheel stretching high into the sky, the neon lights climbing its spokes flashing excitedly, drawing the carnival goers in.

You settle in a seat with Joel next to you, though because of the long line, you're forced to be seated with another couple across the way. An older couple, with matching t-shirts and candy necklaces.

"Hey there!" The woman chirps. "What a lovely night, ain't it?"

Joel nods awkwardly, "Sure is."

"It's beautiful," you add.

It truly is, a gentle breeze stirs the warm air, driving away mosquitos and the Texan humidity. The navy sky is clear, only a few fluffy clouds sprinkled about. You’d spend the entire night out here if you could.

"I'm Sharon, my husband Burt and I have been comin' to this carnival for the past fifty years," she says, gesturing to the man in overalls beside her.

"That's amazing," you say honestly. "I’d like to have a tradition like that, too.”

You tell her your and Joel’s names, ignoring the latter’s pleading glance at you by smiling at Sharon and Burt and complimenting their matching shirts.

Burt's says: Nothing Sense We're and hers says: Makes When Apart.

You despise the shirts deeply, but you might as well be friendly to the people you'll be stuck with for the next fifteen minutes.

"Thanks darlin'! Are you two a couple?"

You take Joel's hand, "Yep! Finally reeled this slippery fish in."

"Jesus Christ," Joel grumbles under his breath. You try not to laugh.

"Older men, so evasive, am I right?" Sharon whispers, a hand coming up to shield her mouth from her husband, as if he can't hear her in this tiny space.

"I hear you, sister.”

Joel rubs his thumb and forefinger against his temple.

"Well, enjoy your ride," she beams. "Just beware, my hubby gets gassy when we get halfway up."

You choke on a shocked laugh, your palm slapping over your lips. You lean into Joel, eyes wide, who looks green once again.

"Oh my god," you hiss to him.

"Now look what you've done. We're 'bout to get chloroformed by farts."

You can’t hide your laugh this time, “Joel!"

The ferris wheel jerks, and Joel's hand tightens around yours as it begins to ascend. You notice the tick in his jaw, the way his gaze pointedly darts from the spokes of the wheel to the pole in the center of the seat and back.

"Are you scared of ferris wheels too?" You ask.

"No," he hisses. "I'm scared of state carnival ferris wheels. They set this piece of shit up in three days. How can you even trust it?"

"I just like to think about possible ways I'd survive it."

"Yeah, like what? Grabbing onto the pole and just hanging there 'til they get ya?"

"Exactly, see, it'll be fine."

"That's if the whole thing doesn't detach."

"I think it's more likely we'll die from suffocating by old man farts than this thing detaching."

That gets a laugh out of Joel, and his gaze finally finds the land stretching out beneath you as the ferris wheel rises. The moon hangs high above the clouds, bright and full, and stars dot the dark sky like jewels sewn on a blanket. The breeze ruffles his hair, and you wish to run your hands through it.

"This is nice," he says. "I'm glad I came out here with you."

"You didn't have much of a choice, but I'm glad you're enjoying it."

You hear the man across from you pass gas, and you hide a grimace.

Joel leans in to whisper in your ear, his breath ghosting over your sensitive skin making you shiver. "This would be pretty romantic if it weren't for Mr. and Mrs. Clause over there."

"Watch it, you'll be approaching that age soon."

"I've got at least twenty years, peach. Maybe you'll be sick of me by then."

"Oh no," you shake your head, looking earnestly into his eyes. "I'll gratefully smell your farts 'til the end, Joel."

"You're messed up," he grimaces.

You just smile at him, and he grins back, his arm slung over the back of the seat, his thumb massaging your neck, and you melt into him, content to watch the world shrink as you near the top.

Eventually the ferris wheel comes to a stop at the top, and you gaze out across the dark world, head resting on Joel's shoulder. He pulls you in close.

"It's time for the kiss!" Sharon exclaims, grabbing Burt's fraying overalls and tugging him in to plant a kiss right on his lips. He melts right into her, and in mere seconds, you and Joel are witness to a geriatric couple making out.

"Ain't this somethin'," Joel says.

"Oh. My. God."

Sharon pulls back after a good thirty seconds, and turns to you and Joel. "Alright! Your turn!"

"Oh no, that's okay," you say, waving your hand. Joel is private in his affections, though his little show at the target booth earlier might say otherwise. Generally, he prefers keeping you to himself.

But tonight, he's full of surprises.

"C'mon, peach. Let's do it. Let’s give these kind folks a show, like they did for us."

"Yes! He gets it!" Sharon bounces excitedly. "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"

You've been wanting to kiss him all night, so you're really not against it. Though, it's still weird, and you give Joel a pained look.

"I'll give you the whale for this," he promises.

"And the bear," you argue.

"Fine. And the bear."

You grin, and then his hand is at the back of your neck, pulling you in, his nose brushing your cheek as he slots your lips together. He tastes like funnel cake and cotton candy and you honestly don't want this night to end.

Your eyes flutter shut as he adjusts you to deepen the kiss, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip. Your hands plant on his chest, nails digging into the fabric stretching over his firm pecs.

"Woo! Yeah! Kiss her hard! Kiss her really good.”

Your lip is still caught between his teeth when Joel slowly pulls away, eyes trained angrily on Sharon and Burt. He clears his throat as leans back in his seat, and you avoid eye contact with the very strange couple across from you. Joel's hand is hot on your exposed thigh, and now you really wish you weren't fifty feet in the air stuck with some very questionable folks.

Finally, five minutes later you touch the ground again.

"Y'all have fun now!" Sharon squeaks and steers Burt toward the cowboy-themed carousel.

"Have a good night you two," Joel says, faintly as they beeline away from you, almost like you were the weird ones.

He hands you the whale but holds the bear for you as you make your way back to Joel's pickup.

"Well, that was something," you say.

"I don't think I'll get that image out of my head. Or the smell," Joel's nose scrunches.

You stop, turning toward him. "I'm sorry about this. I thought it would be fun. We'd play games and share a romantic kiss on the ferris wheel and feed the animals-"

The words fade as Joel's palm settles on your cheek, his thumb running across your bottom lip, his other hand landing on your waist. "Darlin', we did all of that."

"Yeah, but it all sucked. I can't shoot for shit. And you don't like the animals being all cooped up, and then Sharon and Burt practically eating each other in front of us, then getting turned on by our kissing? You don't think I saw Burt's hard-on?"

His eyes widen in disgusted shock. "His what?"

Your eyes well up. "I’m sorry, Joel."

He shakes his head, pulling you into his chest. "Peach, I had a great time. I love doing whatever you love. I love you, okay? So next year, you can drag me out here again and we can be Sharon and Burt's spank bank material and I'll enjoy it just as much as I did today."

Your laugh is watery against his chest, and he tilts your chin up to softly press his lips against yours again, this time shielded from the hungry gaze of strange old people. He thumbs away your tears.

"By the way," he whispers against your lips. "I liked watchin' you fail at shootin'. It's cute."

You glare half-heartedly at him, pushing him off of you and rounding to the passenger side of the truck. "I always knew you were into humiliation."

"Maybe we should try it, just to know for sure," he smirks, leaning against the door frame, towering over you.

You look him up and down, eyeing the muscles of his forearms and the way his t-shirt stretches across his broad chest. Your voice comes out lower than you expect it to.

“Get in the damn truck, Miller."

"Yes ma'am."

[angel5ofp0rn]

His newest nickname is Skunky. Not for the reason you'd think -- no, they don't go outside to tangle with a skunk.

No, Gaz here has begun dropping ass at the slightest inconvenience 🤦 doesn't wanna be held? He skunks you.

You're trying to enjoy quiet time in the living room? Parker said Gaz jumped up and crop dusted him and immediately ran away.

You wanna pet him and rub his belly? Thr whole living room smells like asscrack now.

No clue why he's so gassy all of a sudden but like wtf man 🤣

i’m cryingggg. “dropping ass” is crazy 😭😭

poor dude lmao (and poor you 💀😭)

[princesssarisa]

That recent post about sharing your pet's silly nicknames has made me want to share pictures of my two dogs again. And their many nicknames, some of which came from me, some from other people.

They're both gone now, but they'll never be forgotten <3

When they were with us, I was still living with my parents, so they belonged to all of us. Each one was most attached to one of my parents – the one whose coloring was the most like theirs, interestingly enough – but I'm pretty sure they both loved me too.

Here's sweet, gentle little Heloise, or Ellie, as we usually called her: a.k.a. "Ellie-Bellie," "Elsa-Belsa," "Eleanor," "Bunny," "Fun Bun," "Fluffles," "Flufflebunny," "Fuzzy Pie," "Little Lamb," "Furball," "The Mutt," "Love Dove," and "Pookie Pie."

She was a rescue dog, so we never knew her exact breed, but we think she was a bichon-poo. She was my mom's baby.

And here's feisty little Annie, a.k.a. "Banana," "Annie Bananie," "Ann-Fann," "Little Pickle," "Skunky," "Skunky Monkey," "Little Ferret," "Little Rat," "Ratso," "The Beast," "Pup," "The Sand Skunk" (because she loved the beach), "Teddy Bear," and "Fuzzy Bear."

She was a cockapoo, and she was my dad's special girl.

If I get a third dog, though, it will be all mine. :)

[all-that-glitters-is-goldfish]

Living in a country where our wildlife is like a fckn cow in a field, do skunkies smell that bad? On tv people who hug wild angry bears just to dry their nipples a little will take an uber to go around them skunkies. Again no wildlife here so I would def die trying to befriend something that can kill me, but they are so cute I would headbutt Captain America's balls to try to pet one.

I think skunks are adorable, but yes they are stinky bois. Their spray smells like marijuana lmao… it’s not too strong unless you get directly sprayed. My dog got sprayed once and it took weeks to get the smell out of our house.

But like I just really wanna snuggle one???

[alleywaycitizen]

all characters in Alleyway Citizen so far

Reminder this series is primarily set in the 2000s (and lots of the prologue is from the early-late 90s) so LGBTQphobia is prominent because it's just way more realistic. which means,, a lot of the queer characters are closeted/comphet/heteronormative as well

not finished!! more characters will be added over time as the series is still in heavy development

MAIN PROTAGS

(🇻🇪) Angelo García Flores (he/him cis man, heteronormative/closeted gay)

(“🇺🇦”) Marcus Trinity (he/him, cis man, asexual greyromantic)

(🇵🇱) Aleksander Dabrowski (he/they, closeted NB/GQ, bisexual)

(🇬🇧🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿) Edward Brookins (he/any, genderqueer, gay)

(🇨🇳🇰🇭) Kaden Huang (he/any, genderqueer, closeted omnisexual)

PETS/FERALS

(adopted/found in 🇺🇸) Electri (male/gender neutral electronic cat, aleksander's pet)

(adopted/found in 🇹🇷) Amir (male strawberry vampire bat, angelo's pet)

(rescued in 🇲🇽) Squid (female black cat, gabriella's pet)

SECONDARY/SUPPORT/SIDE

(🇲🇽) Gabriella (she/her, cis girl, comphet lesbian)

(🇹🇷🇲🇦) Kasca/Mehmet (he/him, cis man, heteronormative queer)

(🇧🇳) Zohra Azim (she/her, cis girl, asexual heteroromantic)

(🇧🇳) Fatima Hussain (she/her, cis woman, heterosexual)

(🇧🇳) Khalid Azim (he/him, cis man, heterosexual)

(🇺🇸) Josiah (he/him, cis "boy" (masculine supernatural being), asexual heteroromantic)

(🇮🇹) Monica Armani (she/her, closeted trans woman, heteroflexible)

(🇷🇺🇺🇸) Eddie Smirnov (he/him, trans man, demisexual biromantic)

(🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿) Mason Desmond (any, genderless masc (he can turn into anything he wants), omnisexual)

(🇪🇸) Valentin Abarca Rodriguez (he/him, cis boy, asexual heteroromantic)

(🇪🇸) Lucia Rojo (she/her, cis girl, bisexual)

(🇪🇸) Elena Rojo (she/her, cis girl, asexual aromantic)

(🇨🇦) Jacob Smith (he/him, cis boy, closeted queer)

(🇬🇧🇨🇦) Aaron Brown (he/him, cis boy, closeted queer)

(🇯🇵🇨🇳) Isamu Jiang (he/him, cis boy, closeted pansexual demiromantic)

(🇷🇺🇺🇦) Lev Kravchenko (he/him, cis man, asexual heteroflexible)

(🇷🇺🇩🇪) Kronzi (he/him, cis man, bisexual)

(🇺🇦) Boqshie (he/they, genderqueer, bisexual)

(🇬🇧) Xavier (any, genderqueer, alloromantic asexual)

(Indigenous 🇧🇷/🇸🇳) Thiago "Pykstar" Silva de Araújo (he/they, cis boy, closeted gay)

(🇨🇦) Skunky (they/he, genderqueer, gay)

(🇯🇵🇻🇳) Tenno Chi (she/they, cis girl, comphet lesbian)

(🇰🇷) Oliver (he/him, trans man, bisexual)

VILLAIN ASSOCIATES

(🇺🇾🇺🇸) Lydia (she/her, trans woman, lesbian)

(Indigenous 🇺🇸) Camilo (he/him, cis man, omnisexual)

VILLAINS

Samco "Samuel" Sinner (he/him, cis man, pansexual)

Dr. Misty (she/her, cis woman, bisexual)

Colton Buyantu (he/any, genderqueer, pansexual)

PRISONERS OF WAR

Gretel Heindrich (he/him, cis boy, asexual aromantic)

Frederick Grasshoff (he/him, cis boy, asexual heteroromantic)

MILITARY

The thing after their pronoun stuff is what military they are in + their rank if available

GR = Germany, BR = Brazil, RUS = Russia, ETC.

Im using english terms for the ranks so its less confusing

🇷🇺🇩🇪 Nikolai Petrov (he/him, cis man, hetero bicurious) (GR, Sergeant)

🇷🇺 Ivan (he/any, cis man, omnisexual) (RUS, N/A)

🇷🇺🇩🇪 Sasha Mikhailov (he/him, cis man, closeted gay except the closet is glass) (GR, Private)

🇩🇪 Ernst Flynn (they/them, genderless, asexual aromantic) (GR, Air Marshal)

🇩🇪 Ruth Schiender (she/her, cis woman, comphet lesbian) (GR, Combat Medic/Private)

🇩🇪 Hans (he/him, cis man, heterosexual) (GR, Field Marshal)

🇩🇪 Joseph Wolf (he/him, cis man, closeted bisexual, Lieutenant)

🇩🇪 Seraphina Wolf (she/her, cis woman, heteroflexible, Private)

🇬🇧 Caleb Williams (he/him, cis boy, heterosexual) (GR, Volunteer)

FAMILY & ROMANTIC RELATIONS

Joseph Wolf & Seraphina Wolf are biological siblings and grew up under the same roof. They still hold a very close bond.

Colton Buyantu & Eddie Smirnov are first cousins and went to the same primary school together when they were children. As adults, they have a distant bond due to their differing beliefs.

Lucia Rojo & Elena Rojo are biological siblings and grew up under the same roof. Unfortunately, Lucia was killed while trying to save Elena, however Elena is able to see her ghost and still talk to her.

Kasca is Zohra's non biological caretaker. He was given custody of Zohra after Khalid (zohra's biological father) went insane and physically assaulted zohra and her mother, Fatima. Khalid then went on to join a illegal terrorist organisation and was never seen again. Despite being zohra's legal mother, Fatima requested Kasca to take care of Zohra for most of the time as by now she is too physically damaged to be able to take care of her child.

Lucia Rojo & Valentin A. Rodriguez are both teenagers and dating. However, shortly after the apocalypse began Lucia was killed in a house fire caused by the terrorist workers of Samco. Corp. Valentin is the only one who can see her ghost other than her own family (Only her little sister Elena survived the fire.)

[signaturecellars]

Must have Feature for Wine Cellar: What Your Wine Cellar Builder Should Consider

A wine cellar isn't a basement with a few shelves. It's a sanctuary for your collection, a place where bottles can age gracefully, undisturbed. But achieving that serenity requires planning, not just bricks and mortar. That's where a skilled and top-rated wine cellar builder comes in. Here's the bare-bones list of features they should understand, the things that separate a cool room from a true connoisseur's haven.

Climate Control: The Heart of the Matter

Temperature is the enemy. Too hot, and your wines cook. Too cold, and they hibernate. The ideal range is narrow: 55-59 degrees Fahrenheit. Fluctuations are just as bad, stressing the wine and accelerating its aging.

A good wine cellar builder will prioritize a reliable cooling system. Don't settle for a window air conditioner. It's noisy, inefficient, and struggles to maintain consistent temperatures. Look for a dedicated wine cellar cooling unit with proper ventilation. This ensures the system removes heat and humidity efficiently, preventing mold and ensuring a clean, stable environment.

Humidity: The Silent Partner

Temperature is the star, but humidity plays a crucial supporting role. Too dry, and corks shrink, letting air in and spoiling the wine. Too humid, and mold becomes a risk. The sweet spot is 50-70% relative humidity.

Maintaining this balance is where a builder's expertise shines. They should understand vapor barriers, proper insulation, and the delicate dance between ventilation and moisture control.

Darkness: The Unsung Hero

Light damages wine. It breaks down delicate compounds and can give whites an unpleasant skunky aroma. Your wine cellar builder should prioritize darkness. Opt for opaque doors and low-voltage, filtered lighting for visibility without compromising the wine's well-being. LEDs are a good choice – they emit minimal heat and last a long time.

Vibration Damping: Peace and Quiet

Constant vibrations are stressful for wine. They can stir up sediment and accelerate aging. A good builder will minimize vibrations with proper construction techniques, isolating the cellar from external sources like busy roads or laundry rooms. Wall and floor materials matter – concrete slabs might be tempting, but they readily transmit vibrations. Look for materials that dampen sound and movement.

Storage Solutions: Fit for Function (and Form)

Wine racks are the workhorses of the cellar. Here, functionality reigns supreme. Sturdy construction is key – flimsy racks risk sagging under the weight of your collection. Adjustable options are a plus, allowing you to accommodate different bottle sizes and configurations.

Think beyond basic functionality. Consider the aesthetics too. Wood racks offer a classic look, while metal can provide a modern feel. Explore custom options that showcase your prized bottles – a well-designed rack system can be a beautiful way to display your collection.

Security: Peace of Mind

A well-stocked wine cellar is an investment. A good builder will incorporate security features to keep your collection safe. Solid doors are essential, with sturdy locks and deadbolts. Consider adding an alarm system for an extra layer of protection. Effective security system in wine cellar protects your precious collection from kids, pets and other intruders.

Final Words

The key is to find a top rated wine cellar builder who understands the delicate balance required for optimal wine storage. With the right features in place, your wine cellar won't just be a place to store bottles; it will be a haven for your collection, a place where your wines can age gracefully, waiting for the perfect moment to be uncorked. This isn't an exhaustive list. Discuss your specific needs with your builder. Do you plan to entertain in the cellar? Lighting and temperature control might need adjustments. Are you a collector of magnums? Storage solutions will need to adapt.

[badstepsmoving]

skunk's statistics.

statistics.

name. skunk thompson nickname/alias. skunkerton, skunky age. 22 date of birth. september 18th gender. trans-man pronouns. he/him/his orientation. bisexual race/ethnicity. white height. 5'4 hair. shaggy bleach blonde mullet (lightly yellow, not toned properly). two black streaks framing the side of his face, as well as a chunk near the nape of his neck. like a peek-aboo situation eyes. green piercings. both eyebrows, lip, septum, both nostrils, small gauges in his ears tattoos. patchwork sleeves, all stick and poke and doodles than anything else. covering his arms and legs. parents. andrea eikstrom and leonard thompson siblings. jonathan thompson pets. an opossum named tofu occupation. employee at a local cd/record shop. drummer for the band bathtub cigarettes hometown. naperville, illinois current residence. chicago, illinois likes. cheap beer, menthol cigarettes, pizza, candy, animals dislikes. bigots, cops, obeying the rules hobbies. crafting, skate boarding positive traits. charismatic, funny, kind neutral traits. selfless, unorganized negative traits. dishonest (about true emotions), petty alignment. chaotic neutral neurodivergencies & disorders. autism, generalized anxiety, depression ptsd personality. skunk is very outgoing and friendly. the kind of person that would give his shirt off his back. he loves making people laugh and smile.

biography.

skunk was always a loud kid, teachers labeled him a ‘class clown’, and making friends was easy for you. he grew up poor, accustomed to stealing food from grocery stores at a young age to feed himself and his family. music was always an interest, constantly listening to illegally burned cd’s from his older brother. that’s where skunk's love of music began. he began to tap along to the music as he listened, quickly memorizing drum beats to his favorite songs. music is what got him through life, fixating on punk music, agreeing with the core messages of the music. his sophomore year of high school he came out, renaming yourself skunk, finally feeling comfortable in his own skin. skunk's parents weren’t accepting, the only person in his family who really sympathized with him was his brother. skunk found a group of friends, his new family, members of a folk-punk band that they all formed and named bathtub cigarettes. skunk barely passes high school, the only thing saving his gpa was his involvement in high school concert band as a percussionist. after graduation, bathtub cigarettes friends pooled money they had been saving together to purchase a run down house on the south side. the group began community college together, but quickly skunk realized that it wasn’t for him (as well as the rest of the band). all six of them dropped out, committing to bathtub cigarettes fully. they began hosting shows in their basement, as well as opening up the basement for other local bands to perform.

bathtub cigarettes.

earl - lead vocals. earl is twenty-two years old, non-binary trans-masc, uses they/them/theirs pronouns, and is loudly and proudly queer. when they aren't singing for the band, they are working as a bartender for a small dive bar right down the street from the bathtub cigarettes house. they rock a buzz cut that is dyed in a red and black checkerboard pattern. their favorite things ?? grape flavored candies, modello, roller skating, and black and milds ( specifically wood tip wine flavored ones ). earl can seem stand offish at first due to their protectiveness of their friends. to earl, the band is their family. once you get to know them, they will begin to open up, and show you how much of a goofball they can really be. earl met skunk for the first time in high school, specifically during their freshman year math class. they've been inseparable since. mikey - guitar. mikey is twenty-one years old, a cis-man that uses he/him/his pronouns, and is so unapologetically queer. when he's not rocking out on the guitar, you can find him making lattes at a coffee shop downtown. his hair is long and dyed black, the strands that frame his face have been dyed bright purple. his favorite things ?? malboro 100's, bush apple, fireball, cats, and skateboarding. mikey is incredibly scatter brained, bubbly, and goofy. he can be really unreliable at times and has been banned from making any group plans for the band ( due to him often forgetting he made the plans in the first place ). mikey met earl his junior year of high school and they have been best friends ( and partners ) ever since. earl keeps mikey on track, trying to steer their partner in the right direction. the two have been dating for five years now. mikey is always late to band practice even though he lives in the house that they practice in. karp - bass. karp is twenty-two years old, a trans-woman, and uses she/her/hers pronouns. karp is a lesbian and will not be afraid to tell you that, often making jokes about her shortly trimmed fingernails. when she's not playing bass for the band, she works as an apprentice at a local tattoo shop. yes, she is responsible for most of the bands tattoos. her hair is styled into a shaggy and choppy mullet that has been dyed lime green. her favorite things ?? menthol cigarettes, steel reserves, pop punk, roller skating, and animals. karp is incredibly kind an thoughtful, she would give her shirt off her back if she needed to. she met skunk in high school, specifically in concert band. she played percussion with skunk, and they hit it off right away. karp is the creator of the name 'bathtub cigarettes', drawing inspiration from late nights in her childhood trailer home, smoking cigarettes that they had stolen from their father with skunk in the bathtub. martin - banjo/backup vocals. martin is twenty three years old, non-binary trans-femme, and uses they/she/he pronouns. martin is bisexual with no preferences. his hair is styled into a mohawk that is dyed navy blue. when they aren't performing with the band, they work as a freelance artist, spending most of their time spray painting the sides of buildings with skunk. their favorite things ?? malboro reds shorts, montucky cold snacks, 80's grunge/punk music, and roller derby. martin has a very warm and caring heart, she is almost like a parental figure to the band. she loves to crack jokes and make others laugh. martin met karp in an after school board game club and was quickly introduced to the rest of the group. everyone quickly took them under their wing, seeing how perfectly they fit with everyone else.

[parksaversnews]

The Hidden Secrets of Disneyland's Haunted Mansion Pet Cemetery

The Haunted Mansion at Disneyland Park is one of the most iconic and beloved dark rides ever created. Since opening in 1969, it has entertained and spooked millions of guests with its ghostly inhabitants and imaginative scenes. But hidden away outside this popular attraction is a lesser-known feature - the Haunted Mansion pet cemetery. History of the Pet Cemetery The pet cemetery first appeared in the early 1980s on the west side of the Haunted Mansion building. It was only visible to guests using the wheelchair-accessible side entrance and remained a hidden gem seen by few. According to legend, the cemetery was conceived by Disney Imagineer Kim Irvine, daughter of Madame Leota actress Leota Toombs. In 1993, an additional pet cemetery was installed along the main ride queue where more guests could enjoy it. Over time, the original cemetery became even more secluded as the newer one gained popularity. Today, the status of this secret graveyard accessible only to Disney cast members remains a mystery - some say it's been removed, while others claim it can still be found with a helpful cast member's guidance.

Memorials to Ghostly Pets The Haunted Mansion pet cemetery features whimsical headstones remembering deceased animal companions of the mansion's residents. Each statue and inscription adds humor and personality to furry residents, like: Stripey the Skunk: "You may be departed, but your presence will always linger on" Bully the Frog: "You didn't drink, you didn't smoke, I just can't figure what made you croak" Big Jake the Dog: "Chased a toad down a well, was his one mistake" Miss Kitty the Cat: "After losing eight lives you still had no fear"There's also a memorial for all pets without marked graves, and statues of a squirrel, rabbit, fish, rat, spider, and snake on the queue's brick facade. Design Details & Hidden Magic Subtle details throughout the pet cemetery reinforce its imaginative storytelling. Lily pads surround the tombstone of a frog named Old Flybait "who croaked," while a skunk's marker is edged with flowers known for their own skunky scent. And in true Disney fashion, there's hidden magic here too. Cast members report the planter in the cemetery's center mysteriously topples over at night - could playful spirits be to blame? The memorial to Miss Kitty the cat even suggests one of her nine lives remains...perhaps her ghost still lurks about! Continuing a Legacy While the ultimate fate of the original hidden pet cemetery by the Haunted Mansion is unknown, its legacy continues to delight Disney guests. The tributes to beloved animal companions in the ride's queue keep their stories alive and remain a highlight for many park visitors. It's a testament to the imaginative storytelling and attention to detail that make Disney Parks so special. Just like the mansion itself, the pet cemetery stands the test of time by blending humor, heart, and a little haunting fun. So next time you're waiting in line to hitch a ride with the Haunted Mansion's happy haunts, keep an eye out for these tributes to long-gone pets. You never know what magical surprises or ghostly activity you might encounter!

Frequently Asked Questions What is the history behind the pet cemetery? The original pet cemetery first appeared in the early 1980s on the west side of the Haunted Mansion, conceived by Imagineer Kim Irvine. In 1993, a second pet cemetery was added along the ride's main queue. The status of the original hidden cemetery today remains a mystery. What kinds of pets are featured in the cemetery? Whimsical headstones remember deceased pets like Stripey the skunk, Bully the frog, Big Jake the dog, Miss Kitty the cat, and more. Statues on the queue's facade also depict a fish, rat, spider, snake and other animals. Are there any secrets or hidden details in the cemetery? Yes! Cast members report the planter frequently topples over mysteriously at night, which could be the work of ghostly pets. Miss Kitty's epitaph also suggests she has one life remaining, and may still lurk around the Haunted Mansion! Why does the pet cemetery matter? It continues the storytelling and rich detail of the Haunted Mansion through humor and heart. The pet cemetery adds magic and personality that delights guests and keeps this classic Disney ride engaging over 50 years since its debut. Could the original pet cemetery still exist somewhere? Potentially! Some claim it remains hidden from guests and accessible only by Disney cast members. Its ultimate fate is unknown, but the cemetery's legacy lives on through the tributes added outside the ride.

The hidden secrets of Disneyland's Haunted Mansion extend beyond the ride itself to features like the whimsical pet cemetery. Though its original west side location remains elusive, the newer memorials delight riders with humor and heart. The cemetery tributes let imaginations run wild with stories of bully frogs, departed skunks, and ghosts of pets past. Its little details and legends feel quintessentially Disney - fun, playful, and forever fascinating. For over 30 years, this graveyard has kept delightful pet tales alive for Mansion fans. Even as rides evolve, it stands the test of time as a highlight for those in the know. The pets may be departed, but their magical spirit endures. Read the full article

[steele-soulmate]

Tattooed Wings, CHAPTER 478, Peter Steele & OFC, Soulmate AU

SUMMARY: Mary Claire Bradley meets her soulmate- literally- the famous Peter Steele of metal group Type O Negative. But will obstacles including trauma, stalkers, and toxic family members get in the way of their life?

WARNING: mentions of child rape (nothing graphic) PTSD, milk kink, soft smut, grinding, assault, fingering, hand jobs, blow jobs, 69, P in V sex, blood, noncon rape, violence, death, vandalism, graffiti, attempted kidnapping, break-ins, wild animal attacks, terrorist attack (sabotage) consensual impregnation, bareback, impregnation kink, creampies, terrorist attacks (shootings) neonatal death

WORDS: 1828

I began to hum a soft song as I washed the dishes in the kitchen sink. Normally, Peter would do the chore, but he was a bit busy at the moment wrangling the kids out in the backyard at my insistent.

“Go on now, my love,” I had urged him with one hand on our unborn daughter. “Go and be a daddy to our kids.”

“As my wife commands of me,” he had rumbled before corralling the family out into the backyard, Mittens and Daisy close behind as Primrose curled up in Mitten’s cat bed in the back family room.

“In this town that we call home, everyone sings to the full blood moon!” I hang out softly as I shut the water off to pick up my wedding ring. I had always loved this simple piece of jewelry with its Celtic knotwork around the otherwise undecorated rose gold band. It fit my hand quite well and was a perfect indicator of our neverending love for one another.

I blinked through a sudden sneeze, my hand going to grab onto my ring as it flew out of my hands and darted down the sink drain. Without even thinking, I plunged my hand down the drain.

I relaxed once my fingers were gripping my marital band, my smile vanishing when I tried to withdraw from around the garbage disposal.

“PETER!”

Pause

STOMP STOMP STOMP STOMP came my husband as he flew back into the house, dropping his earmuffs and scarf onto the floor as he checked in on my crying, stuck form.

“Sweetheart, oh my sweetheart,” he whimpered. “Are you alright?”

I’m stuck daddy I was unable to speak, with how much I was crying, with giant ugly sobs being ripping from my chest as he smiled at me, opening the cabinet doors to the plumbing just below the sink and crawling underneath to get to work on getting me unstuck.

“Okay sweetheart, I unplugged the garbage disposal, so you can let go and pull out now,” he coaxed him, running his thumb around my tight fist. “I’ll catch whatever’s in your hands, alright?”

Alright daddy.

I released my wedding band and yanked free, shuffling backwards as Peter scooted free of the underbowels of the sink, grinning at me as he presented me with the troublesome ring.

“I got it, sweetheart!” he told me, slipping the ring back onto my finger, taking my hand and bringing it up to it mouth to press sweet kisses to my soulmarked skin with a faint smile on his bearded face. “Are you okay now?”

I am now, I told him with my eyes, leaning into him with a soft coo as I suddenly realized how exhausted I felt.

Peter chuckled as I slumped into him, standing and heading back upstairs to tuck me in for a nap. I loved how safe and warm I would get whenever my handsome older husband would touch me, knowing that he would give his life to make sure that me, the kids and the pets were safe.

I love you.

“Yeah?” he chortled as he set me into bed and then tugged the blankets up over me. “Well, I love you.”

I cooed as he went to start up the fireplace, his handsome face heating up with the sudden rush of flames that appeared as he situated the room.

“I’ll bring the kids back inside in a little bit, alright?” he told me as Primrose bound into the room, clearly having a case of skunkie zoomies. “Hihi Primrose. Can you do me a really big favor and keep an eye on mommy and Baby Violet Marie for me?”

He scooped up the little skunk and plopped her onto the bed, watching fondly as she formed a makeshift little burrow out of the blankets and pillows before stuffing herself into her safe corner.

MISSION ACCEPTED, she practically screamed as she closed her eyes and settled in for a nap with a soft purr.

“Good skunkie,” he murmured. “Hey, do you know how little girl’s daddies are doing? They’re in France helping James’ family out right? Remind me.”

“James’ great grandmother Rosemary died at age one hundred and nine about a month and a half ago,” I told him as I rolled onto my side and got comfortable once more. “There’s a lot of estate and medical to go through and stuff, but Aaron texts me once a week with updates and with updates and little jokes and the other likes.”

“One hundred and nine years old-” Peter wheezed. “Sweetheart, I hope I don’t live to be so old.”

“Well, I don’t want to live in a world where you don’t exist,” I answered in a soft voice.

“Fuck- sweetheart, that’s not what I meant at all,” he sighed, kneeling on the bed and cupping at the side of my face with a soft coo. “I want you to grow old and gray and wrinkled and die peacefully in your sleep. What I meant was that I don’t want to the be the last of my friends, our combined families to die. Do you understand that reasoning?”

“You don’t want to die alone,” I interpreted his words with a sleepy moan. “My love, you won’t die alone- when you die, I will die right next to you. Like in The Notebook.”

“Sweetheart, our love story is absolutely nothing like The Notebook,” he chuckled, gazing at me with pure worship in his eyes. “We are not toxic and abusive towards one another, our love is true and beautiful because fate decided to mate the two of us to one another. If we die together holding each other, then so be it.”

“I love you, Peter Thomas Ratajczyk,” I told him as I shut my eyes and quickly drifted off to sleep.

“I love you too, amazing blueberry of my heart.”

TAGLISTS ARE OPEN/ ASK BOX IS OPEN/ REQUESTS ARE OPEN/ PLOT BUNNIES ARE WELCOMED

If you liked this, then please consider buying me a coffee HERE It only costs $3!!!

PETER STEELE TAGLIST

@rock-a-noodle

@ch3rry-c01a

[equinoxts2]

Previously on Kulo Seeri, Melchol gave birth to twin voidlings, revealed that the vengeful Beguiler had a mole in the village and died. His grave will be moved to the burial grounds next rotation - in KS, you don’t anger a spirit by turfing it out of its home straight away!

The rest of the rotation passed uneventfully, but here are some highlights of the last couple of days:

Immediately after Melchol’s death, ACR kicked back in with a first kiss between Zyulo and Wild Kiss. Is Sophos crying for his brother, or is it because his love interest has just got romantic with someone else?

The twins had to be adopted out, since there are only three nursing mothers in KS. Since one is Melchol’s ex and another is a Vedraloga, Lark zan-Ace was the only choice. She came by with her brother Caleb to take the babies back to her tents.

A litter of skuncoons are on the way...

...and Melchol is not taking kindly to the fact that the kitchen has become a mess in his absence.

[a-smol-gay-tree]

In light of the new butterfly soup 2 assets + brianna lei's meme edits, I offer possibly my favorite reddit post

(It's about Akarsha of course, but at 1am I didnt want to edit every he/him/his/boyfriend to she/her/hers/girlfriend)

[gothifie]

Uagh. i just asked mg mom how much we needed still. Around 900!!!!!!! so fucked so so fucked

[warweaselfiles]

I envy you so much.

[mulch-and-more]

[picture of Fran, a lemon and lavender colored skunk, sleeping on a pet bed shaped like a cupcake]

sorry ive been missing in action all week, this little lady kept be very busy. i can assure yall there will be a lot of new skunk pics in the future (along with usual content) but if thats not your thing im tagging her stuff skunkie

[muertawrites]

Of Incense and Intimacy (Eddie Munson x Reader) [18+]

Summary: Your roommate's recreational habits tend to wreak havoc on your anxious sensitivities, so you burn a little incense with him to help you both relax. Maybe choosing a scent called "love spell" wasn't the best idea....

Warnings: anxiety, panic attacks, the devil's lettuce, explicit descriptions of secks (minors i fucking see you stay behind the beaded curtain), raw dogging (wear a fuckin' raincoat y'all don't be dumb), mentions of the dirty touch, perv!eddie my beloved, my daddy kink continuing to control every aspect of my life

Word Count: 3.5k (she long and thick this time babes)

Author's Note: i just like incense a lot. ever since i got a backflow burner it's become my entire personality. my room smells amazing.

You hate doing this, ruining his fun. Especially because you know it's how he relaxes; how he deals with his own problems. Still, the tightening of your chest, the shallowness of your breathing, the fear starting to creep its way out of the corners of your mind sends you across the hall, tapping on his door.

Eddie answers in a puff of cannabis smoke, and you instinctively cover your mouth and nose with your shirt. Even in his hazy, glazed-over frame of mind, he knows exactly why you're here, and he immediately apologizes.

"Oh, shit, pumpkin, I'm sorry."

He dashes back into his room, stubbing out the joint in his hand and opening his window a crack, despite the winter chill. You stand in the doorway and sigh.

"No, I'm sorry," you say. "I'm a shit roommate."

"You have clinical anxiety." He annunciates the words as he returns to you, leaning against the door frame and giving your hair a quick, gentle pet. "It's okay."

You grimace as you flinch away, choked by the skunky smell emanating from him.

"That shit reeks," you huff. "You don't have anything better?"

Eddie chuckles, shoving the sleeve of his sweatshirt under your nose to tease you. He laughs as you smack him away.

"The high quality stuff brings in too much money," he explains. "Unless you want me to stop pitching in for takeout."

You roll your eyes and hold a finger up, telling him to wait.

"I'm not living with that stench all night."

You disappear into your bedroom, returning with a couple ceramic dishes and a stack of different sized boxes. Eddie raises an eyebrow as you set them up on his dresser, handing him a few of the boxes and directing him to choose some of the contents. He opens the topmost one, labeled "fairy dust", and removes one of the clay-coated sticks inside.

"Incense?" he realizes. He holds the stick up to his face, the scent so sweet it burns his nostrils. "Is this why your room always smells so good?"

You nod, shuffling through a few of the smaller boxes.

"It covers up the smell of weed," you explain. "I started using it like a week after we moved in together."

Eddie smirks, looking through the other scents you've brought over. Some of them are simple and self-explanatory, like basil and lily, but others are more vague, like "mystique" and "decadence". He pauses when he comes across a box marked with the words "love spell", grinning at you in that impish, borderline perverse way you know too well.

"You trying to seduce me?" he jests, waggling his eyebrows.

"I'd have to do way less than this to seduce you," you laugh. You shriek when his pillow smacks you in the back of the head.

"I'm not desperate," he defends himself. "I've been dry for over a year, y'know."

"We share a wall," you remind him. "I can hear you masturbate. Twice a day. It's like you don't even try to keep quiet."

He scoffs, attempting to play off the fierce blush that burns across his cheeks. You giggle at him; he's way too cute.

"What's weirder is that I never hear you masturbate," he deflects. "I'm starting to worry."

"I masturbate," you state matter-of-factly. "I'm just considerate enough to shut the fuck up about it."

Eddie tries to ignore the way the image of you pleasuring yourself, just feet away from him, makes his cock twitch. He clears his throat as he hands you one of the boxes, choosing at random.

"Here."

You examine it, grinning up at him.

"You picked the one called 'wizard'?" you tease. "Not surprised."

He chuckles, settling himself on the end of his mattress as he watches you place an incense stick upright in your burner and set it alight with the Zippo he keeps next to his stash. The flame flares, searing a thick, smoky path down the tip of the stick before you blow it out, leaving nothing but glowing embers and heavy, fragrant smoke curling into the air. He fixates on the purse of your lips, barely staving off the lewd thoughts that float through his mind.

As the smell of sugar and sandalwood perfumes the confined space, you pop open one of the smaller boxes and remove an incense cone from it, setting it strategically at the top of the second dish. This one is shaped like a pond, beveled with stones, complete with sculpted lily pads and painted koi. When you light the tip of the cone, sweet sage drifts upward on the wisps of smoke, waves of it cascading down the ceramic stones and into the waiting pool below.

Eddie's eyes grow wide, watching the display as if you're performing magic. You smile, curling up on his mattress so you can comfortably enjoy the view.

"That's so fucking cool," he gasps. He lays back beside you, his body fitting nicely next to yours. There isn't much room on his full bed, so you're pressed together, your head falling onto his stomach to compensate for the lack of space.

"Yeah, I knew you'd like it," you muse. "I was gonna get you one for your birthday."

You lay like that for a while, until the incense stick burns out, the silence and shared warmth far too easy between you. Eddie's arm migrates around your shoulders, hugging you close, your leg somehow finding its way between his as you fold yourself more and more into him. The scent of weed still lingers after the incense is gone, so you stand and light another, Eddie whining at the loss of your touch.

Rose petals and musk fill the air as you return to the bed, this time straddling your roommate's lap as he sits leaned against his pillows and the wall. He quirks a brow at you but doesn't protest, his hands falling without hesitation around your waist, keeping you there.

"... Maybe I am trying to seduce you. A little bit," you admit.

He smirks, eyes still glassy from his high.

"You're joking," he replies. There's no way that you - beautiful, intelligent, fiery you - want to have sex with him.

But you shake your head, arms draping over his shoulders as your chest presses to his.

"I think you're hotter than sin, Eddie Munson. And you're my best friend. I can't think of anyone I'd rather be in bed with."

Maybe it's the pot. Maybe it's how pretty you look with your hair up, greasy and messy, a day past needing a wash. Maybe it's the feel of your unconfined breasts pushed against him under your sweater. Maybe it's simply how he loves you, but can't find the words to admit it. Whatever the reason, Eddie closes the space between you with a tender, tentative kiss, his thumb grazing the naked skin just under your shirt. You smile softly against his lips, opening your mouth so they can slot together with yours, tongues finding each other with the gentlest little push.

"You taste good," he murmurs. You peck his lips as he pulls away to speak, gazing dreamily into his honey brown eyes.

"You taste like smoke," you tell him. He chuckles, returning your tiny smooch.

You take your time, savoring each other's kisses and touches in a heated round of sucking face. Eddie's movements are slow and deliberate, his tongue and his lips moving in sync with yours while his large, calloused palms rub loving circles into the skin under your sweater. When you pull away to breathe, he licks teasingly at your lips, grinning as you giggle softly. He presses lazy kisses along your jaw, your eyes falling blissfully closed as he works his way down your neck, nipping and sucking at your flesh. He's hard under his sweatpants, but he's in no rush - he loves having you close, loves having the time to worship your body the way you deserve. You knot your fingers in his hair and he lets out a breathy little moan, the sound so melodic you could listen to it on repeat for hours.

"What do you think about when you masturbate?" he wonders aloud. He thoughtfully licks his lips as he levels his face once again, brushing his nose against yours. His eyes are heavily lidded.

"It used to be Jeff Goldblum, before he gets all gross in The Fly," you divulge. "But since living with you, it's just you. The sounds you make... it's like having my own private porno."

You smirk as Eddie blushes, his hand squeezing gently at your love handle. You've masturbated... to him masturbating? All while he was none the wiser? That can't be right. He must be hearing things, mustering his own fantasies into being.

"You're so pretty..." he whispers, losing track of his thoughts.

You giggle, playfully licking at his lips the way he did yours.

"What do you think about?" you ask in return.

"You," he answers without a beat. "How you look when you walk around in just a big t-shirt. I like to imagine you riding me like that. Or when you're in the shower, I... I sometimes masturbate thinking of you in there."

Your tongue grazes over your bottom lip, teeth sinking into it as the muscle disappears into your mouth and you smile. He's shocked that you're not totally disgusted.

"I want you to bend me over," you confess.

He blinks. This can't be for real.

"What, no missionary first?" he asks.

You laugh, pressing an affectionate kiss against his lips. He returns it reflexively, grinning into you, adoring the sound of your laugh.

"Just fuck me," you whisper. "It's about time we got naked together."

Eddie obliges without further convincing. He lifts your sweater over your head, drinking in the sight of your bare tits without shame. You kiss him again as your hands run under his sweatshirt, groping at his bare skin as he guides the offending fabric up and away, tossing it somewhere to be forgotten. He takes your face in his hands and presses his chest against yours, sighing into your mouth at the feel of your bodies so close, without anything between them. He's warm, his chest broad and firm, his arms forming a protective brace around you. Something so salacious as preparing for sex with your roommate has no right feeling as loving as this does.

"Stand up," Eddie instructs.

You climb off the mattress, giggling as he takes you by the hips and positions you between his legs. He kisses the space between your breasts, his breath fanning delicately over your skin as he eases your sweatpants down your legs, fingers teasing your exposed thighs. Your first instinct is to be embarrassed - you haven't shaved in well over two weeks, and you're afraid he'll be put off by it. But he's unfazed, too enamored with you to really care. His eyes graze over your body with lovelorn grace, still very much under the influence of the drugs, but clear enough to remain totally tuned in to you.

"Undress me."

He stands so he's towering over you, snaring you in another kiss before you make your way downward, trailing your lips languidly over his torso until you're kneeling before him; you pause on your way to kitten lick his nipple, and the sharp intake of his breath at the tease thrills you.

You don't bother taking your time with his sweats, unraveling the drawstring with expert precision and letting them fall, immediately grasping at the base of his cock. It's a pretty thing, long and perfectly thick, the tip poking out handsomely from the hood of his uncut foreskin. You stroke at him gently, grinning up at him with your lip between your teeth.

"You're as perverted as I am, aren't you, sweet little thing?" Eddie chuckles. You don't miss the way he twitches in your palm.

"I learned from the best," you reply with a wink.

His grin doesn't disappear as you run your tongue up the underside of his head, tasting the salt of precum as you gently suckle at the tip. He breathes an airy moan, his hand falling to the nape of your neck.

"Just let me fuck you, baby," he pleads. "I'll use your mouth another time."

You raise yourself up, unable to stop yourself from taking him in for another kiss. He's addicting, the feel of his lips twined with yours almost, if not as good as the sex you've been aching to have with him.

Eddie's hands don't leave your waist as you crawl back on to his mattress, bending down on your elbows and knees and arching your back in a display of catlike sensuality. He's quick to fall behind you, smoothing his palm down the curve of your back before bringing it with a sharp smack down on your ass cheek. You yelp, already dripping through the petals of your pussy in anticipation of his cock.

He runs two fingers through your slick, feeling you out; in the floor length mirror beside his window, you watch him raise those fingers to his lips and suck them clean.

"So sweet," he drawls. "I can't wait to make you cum with my tongue."

"I've never been eaten out before," you mention, catching his eyes in the mirror. They've got a mischievous gleam, not leaving yours as he runs the head of his cock up and down the length of your opening.

"You'll never want anyone else between your thighs once I'm done with you," he promises.

He dips himself inside you, causing you to gasp at the sudden rush of pain that always comes with the first breach of your walls. Your face scrunches, fingers gripping at his sheets as he takes hold of your hips, gently and carefully easing you onto him.

"It hurt?" he questions. The concern in his voice is obvious, and it makes you want for him even more.

"Only for a moment," you assure him. He gives a little nod, pulling out slightly before slipping back in, his cock stroking against you and relaxing your muscles. You breathe out a sigh, the pain fading into delicious fullness.

"Fuck, Eddie," you gasp. "Why didn't you mention you have the dick of a porn star?"

He chuckles, giving you another playful spank as he bottoms out, his head just kissing your cervix.

"Same reason you never mentioned your pussy was so perfectly deep and tight, I guess."

He grips you by the waist and starts to fuck, moaning as he sets a steady pace so you can both savor the feeling of each other. You stretch your torso out on his mattress, curling your body so he's hitting you right at your deepest point, an angle that has him groaning and mewling the way you're all too familiar with.

"Fuck, sweetheart, you look so good for me," he praises. "Taking my cock into that sweet little pussy..."

He brings his hand down once again, causing you to moan with the pleasurable sting of his palm against your skin. He continues to spank, thrusting in time with each hit until your cheeks are rosy and tender with the imprint of his palm. Your tongue rolls out of your mouth as he picks up his pace, eyes closing as you smile with bliss.

"Oh, that's my good girl," he growls. "Loving the way daddy uses her as his little fuck toy."

One of his hands raises to curl around the back of your neck, holding you in place as he starts to pound ruthlessly into you, your legs shaking as the sensation of him filling you reaches high into your stomach.

"You're so good baby... so good... mmmm, fuck, shit, heck, you feel incredible on my cock... Fuuuuuuuck, baby... Fuck...!"

You giggle at his intonations, mewling sweetly as his hips snap against yours, the sound of your thighs slapping together echoing off the walls. You can hear your sticky wetness clinging to his shaft, a harmony to back the loud groans he releases every time he thrusts.

"Right there, Eddie..." you coax. "Fuck, babe, right there... Make me cum..."

He guides your body forward, laying you flush against the blankets as he positions his body prone above yours, his arm wrapping around your neck to steady you. He doesn't stop railing into you, panting heavily in your ear, the thin plastic of the ever-present guitar pick around his neck bobbing against your back. You roll your hips into his, meeting his thrusts, and he lets out sound so sweet you think he might actually be crying.

"Oh, god, sugar, yes..." he snarls. "Keep fucking yourself on my cock... fuck, fuck, yeah, just like that... oh, love, you feel so fucking good..."

His relentless pace has built up a knot in your abdomen, one that releases with an explosion throughout your entire body. You cry out in ecstasy, your limbs fizzling with the shock of your orgasm, your toes curling as you ride the wave of indescribable pleasure out for its impossible length. As soon as Eddie feels you tighten around him, he clenches the base of his cock, staving away his own release as he fucks you through to the end. Once you relax, he gingerly unsheathes himself; you roll so you're facing him, repositioning yourself with bended knees so you can curl your fingers around the handsome appendage and stroke him, savoring his enamored cries as he cums onto your stomach and breasts. His breathing is ragged as the thick, pearly strings of semen cease to erupt from his slit. He collapses onto the mattress beside you with a satisfied huff.

For a few minutes, all you do is lay beside each other, filling each other's space while your breathing regains its normal rhythm and your bodies come back to themselves. Eventually, Eddie gets up and disappears, returning with the pack of baby wipes you keep in your room. He cleans you off, removing every trace of the depravity you've shared and kissing your stomach once you're pure again. He wipes himself off as well, pitching both the used cloths and the ash left in your burner into the little trash can beside his nightstand. The incense has long since burnt out.

Eddie crawls back into bed with you, lifting the blankets over you both and slipping between them, placing a kiss on your shoulder as he presses his chest to your back. You're laying with your heads on the foot of his bed, but that hardly matters; he's actually holding you, close and tight and with his face buried in your hair. It's such a small thing, but you've never been treated with this much tenderness before.

"What's wrong?" he asks. He can read you like a book and it makes you want to cry.

"... You're just being really good to me," you whisper. "You're not... You're not done with me."

"Of course not," he murmurs. He brushes a few stray wisps away from your face, clearing a space for his lips to press a light kiss into your temple. "If I just wanted you for sex I'd have made a move a long time ago. I... I kind of feel things for you. Like... a lot of things."

You turn to face him, hugging him close and hiding your face in his chest. He kisses the top of your head, his fingers making a delicate trail down the length of your spine.

"Thank you for putting up with me," you say. "And for driving me to the hospital that time my contact high gave me a panic attack."

Eddie chuckles, giving your love handle an affectionate squeeze.

"Any time, pumpkin. That's still the best date I've ever had."

You smile, letting out a breathy laugh into his skin.

Over the next couple weeks, Eddie slowly migrates his things into your room, making a habit of sharing a bed even when you're not having sex. His old room becomes a studio, and the other members of Corroded Coffin are excited when he tells them they finally have their own recording space. They're sprawled out on the floor, sharing a joint in celebration when the new setup finally dawns on Jeff.

"Did your roommate move out?" he inquires.

"Not really," Eddie responds with a shrug. "More like I moved in."

Jeff and Gareth share a skeptical look. As if on cue, you appear in the doorway, wearing a pair of Eddie's boxers and tossing him a pack of basil-scented incense, which he catches without so much as a flinch.

"Put it out, please," you request. "I'm starting to get jitters."

"Yes, dear. Our apologies."

He flashes you a giddy, awestruck smile as he reaches for the ashtray. He then blows you an exaggerated kiss, to which you just roll your eyes and grin.

"You're a fucking dork," you tell him.

"Love you too, angel babe."

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