#poolin

[batbusiness-schooldropout]

You know those fics where Tim goes "by the powers vested in me by spite and child neglect Jason WILL rejoin this family"

Robin! Tim: HARLEY!!! I need your help with something and you can't tell anyone!

Harley: OMG is it finally happening!? Are you finally going dark!? Let me get my camera! Mommy's so proud of you Sweetie!

Tim: Stop calling yourself Mommy, it's weird. And no, I'm not going dark! I need you to help me help someone else

Harley: A little disappointing but sure. Whacha need Jellybean?

Tim: How do I convince a vigilante-turned-dead guy-turned alive-turned crime lord to reconcile with his dad? Who is also a vigilante.

Harley: This is about that Red Helmet guy and Batsy isn't it?

Tim: Possibly

Harley: Just so we're clear, you shouldn't follow any of my advice under normal circumstances

Tim: Already don't

Harley: Ok so first of all you gotta emotionally manipulate them. Hit them below their feelings belt. Then you gotta orchestrate some situation where they both have to work towards a common goal. Like the safety of a child. Don't forget to make sure Batsy takes his emotional fiber so doesn't get all stopped up. And then-

Tim: Hold up! I need a moment to process "emotional fiber"

[lonestar-badash]

I had to wait a few days for my newest hat but at least I wasn’t standing in that long ass line at the concert.

[lovelyo]

Season 3 part 2 will be Ass. Let me Tell You Why.

Cause in the end, Penelope, Lady Whistledown, the one who has left devastation in people’s lives will get all what she wants. The man that she wants, the attention that she wants, the family she always wanted to be(so envious of them she talked shit about them ), will get her best friend back, might have the heir for that dumbass Featherington plot line, might get the Queen’s pardon and above all else, will most likely not give up LW cause they made LW such an integral part of the show.(so in that case, she’ll be even more filthy rich)

And if we go by leaked spoilers, it is said that Colin will be mad at Penelope for like 1 episode until Kanthony talks some “sense” into him. So that just tells me Kanthony will be OOC because there’s no damn way Anthony would let that beast comment about his wife slide.

There are no stakes when it comes to this season cause we all know how it’s finna go down. If Penelope gets any type of consequences, then her very undeserved HEA is doomed so everything is going to have to go her way for the already idiotic plot to make some form of sense. It’s like the love triangle in part 1, what the hell was the point of Lord Debling when everyone and their ancestors knew Colin and Penelope were end game? So we can see Colin’s cringe angst? If we already know the answer to the love triangle, there’s no point. The “find you a husband” plot line was stupid as shit anyway, but it’s whatever now.

Ugh, then we have to sit through more awkward love scenes between asshat 1 and 2

Eloise threatening Penelope with her LW identity is going to amount to nothing cause we know Penelope isn’t gonna receive any comeuppance. Matter of fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if they made Eloise apologize to Penelope for…🤷🏾‍♂️🤷(let’s apologize to the toxic friend for not dealing with their toxicity)

For Penelope to have a happy ending, she has to get away scot free and that’s what boils my blood. I hate in media and literature when a character goes around, creates chaos and receives nothing for it or just a slap on a wrist. I’ve noticed an increase in it lately too. Also, I’m tired of writers not severing their bias from their writing. I’ve been encountering many series lately where the writer(s) have favoritism towards a specific character and gives them the easy route, bends the world for them and pull punches just because they like them so much. It’s really aggravating cause you see everyone else getting put through the wringer and then you see the favored character walking through Candyland. It hurts the story, the character, and frankly makes you hate the character.

Everyone around Penelope is gonna act brain dead in order for Penelope to get what she wants and I’m not here for it. Even the general audience ain’t for it. The only people cheering this madness are the asylum patients called Polin fans with delusions that Penelope deserves the world.

I’m not even looking forward to Francesca and John’s story cause of the Poolin fecal matter I’ll have to swim through to get there. At this point, I’m might just watch spoilers of part 2 cause it’s not worth it.

P.S. Watch Cressida get the short end of the stick cause she’s the “bully” of the show and Penelope is the “victim”. Watch them break Creloise because of the “I don’t want you hanging around Eloise” subplot which will ultimately fuel Eloise and Penelope becoming friends again. Also, Penelope and Cressida competed for Lord Debling just for Penelope to go “sike” and marry Colin so she wasted Debling’s time and made Cressida feel like shit because she wasn’t chosen. P.S.S- Polins are huge ass hypocrites cause they ragged on Eloise being privileged and having “everything” but are silent about Penelope being privileged. By the end of this season, Penelope will basically have everything, even more so than Eloise, but sure, Penelope is definitely not privileged 😑. Penelope is privileged inside the world and outside by production, why are we denying this?

[fatecantstopme]

I Was Thinking Maybe, Eight?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x wife!reader

Summary: You ask Bucky for something you’ve been desperate for and you’re terrified he’ll say no. Turns out, he wants the same thing.

Warnings: so much smut. Oral (F receiving), unprotected sex (P in V), Breeding kink. Swearing. Use of pet names. Bit of angst.

You came home from work to find your husband busy cooking dinner in the kitchen. It always made you smile to see him acting all domestic, especially given his history. For him to finally have a real home after 80 years of hell, never failed to warm your heart.

“Hey babe,” you said as you entered the kitchen, dropping your purse on the counter, kicking off your heels, and pulling yourself up on the island counter behind him.

“Hey, doll. How was work?” He asked without turning around.

“Nothing exciting to report. Whatcha making?”

“Pasta.”

You hummed happily. “Did you homemake the red sauce?”

Bucky could hear the excitement in your voice and he chuckled. “Of course I did.”

He finished what he was doing at the stove and finally turned around to look at you. Not for the first time, he found himself blown away by your beauty. He’d always counted himself a lucky man since he’d met you. You were just so gentle and sweet, a soft glow always gracing your skin, a warmth to your soul that he’d never seen in anyone else.

“Buck? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re trying to memorize my face. I’m not gonna disappear.”

He came up to stand between your legs and leaned forward to gently kiss your lips. “I would hope not, but it never hurts to be able to describe every inch of your beloved wife’s body should you need to.”

You laughed. “I think that’s why they have pictures.”

“Hmm…I have heard those last longer,” he said with a grin.

You smacked his arm affectionately. “Go monitor your sauce. I don’t want red splatters all over the kitchen.” You hopped off the counter. “I’m gonna change.”

Bucky went back to cooking and you went to your bedroom to change into something more comfortable. You’d just done laundry the day before and Bucky’s clean clothes were neatly folded on top of the dresser, patiently waiting to be put away. You sighed as you looked at them and shook your head. You loved the man, but god help you, if he didn’t put his clothes away you’d knock him upside his head. It was your personal pet peeve. Laundry comes out of the dryer, is immediately folded (by you), and then put away (by the owner of said clothing). It wasn’t too much to ask.

You grabbed a pair of his sweats and a shirt off the stack and threw them on. If he wasn’t gonna bother to put them away, then you might as well wear them.

You came back into the kitchen just as Bucky was plating dinner. He looked up when you entered and his eyes widened.

“Pretty sure those are mine, doll.”

“Yup. They were just sitting out on the dresser, practically begging to be worn. I figured if you didn’t want me to wear them, you would have put them away.” You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow as you regarded him.

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. He knew it annoyed you when he didn’t put his clothes away and he felt bad for forgetting, he really did…but seeing you in his clothes? Damn, that made it completely worth it. “Sorry, sweets. Guess I forgot to put them away again.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You don’t look sorry.”

He grinned. “Can’t help it. You come walking in here all grumpy, looking cute as hell, wearing my clothes? You’re lucky I spent so much time on dinner or I’d be taking you right here on this table.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. “James!” You said indignantly, a smile pulling at the corners of your mouth.

He shrugged. “But since I slaved over this meal, we’d better eat it while it’s hot.” He sat a plate at your seat and one at his. “I’ve got a really good idea for dessert,” he said with a wink.

You blushed and took your seat at the table. You couldn’t deny the hungry way he looked at you turned you on. You felt wetness pooling in your panties and the man hadn’t done anything but look at you and speak. God, you were pathetic.

He watched you closely as you both ate. He asked questions about your day and you tried your best to focus on your answers, but he could tell you were distracted. You kept shifting back and forth in your seat, thighs squeezing together in desperate search of friction.

“Better eat up, doll. You’ll need the energy,” he teased lightly.

Your eyes shot up from your plate and met his. He saw the need in them and knew the very same look was in his own eyes.

“Or, maybe we can eat the rest later,” he said softly.

You nodded quickly.

He grinned. “Besides, I’m quite certain dessert will taste better anyway.”

You weren’t shy by any means, but god, when he spoke to you like that, you couldn’t help but blush. He was always so gentle and affectionate, his love soft and pure. When he was like this? Rough and crude and filthy? You knew you were in for a long, deliciously fun, night.

Before you could even blink, Bucky was beside you, scooping you out of your chair and carrying you off to the bedroom.

"Buck, shouldn't we clean--"

"You really wanna clean up dinner right now, sweets?"

You grinned. "Not particularly."

"Then shush."

He tossed you onto the bed and immediately crawled on top of you, lips attaching themselves to yours in a searing, passionate kiss. Every bit of air was sucked from your lungs, but you didn't care. You needed to feel him, every part of him, so much more than you needed to breathe.

Your lips parted, allowing Bucky's tongue to slip into your mouth, the passion quickly becoming an inferno. You tangled your fingers into his hair and he clung to your body, hips rutting against yours as he moaned into the kiss.

You whined as he pulled away from you, the absence of his lips making you feel empty.

He chuckled warmly. "You do have to breathe occasionally, doll."

"I would much rather be kissing you."

He smiled at you and sat up, pulling his shirt up over his head and tossing it to the ground. It didn't matter how many times you saw his body, you always found something new to love and admire about it. You knew each scar, mark, and blemish that littered his skin and you loved each and every one of them.

It had once made him uncomfortable, the way you seemed to worship his body, despite its many flaws, but he had since come to adore it, even crave it. Your eyes slowly traveled over his torso, appreciating every single inch of it. Your fingers ached to touch him, but you knew better than to do it without asking first...at least when he was in this kind of mood.

"May I?" you asked softly, one hand inches away from his chest.

"Tonight is a special night, my love. Whatever you want, you can have. All you need to do is ask me and I will give it to you."

You inhaled sharply and pressed your hand firmly against his skin, the heat of his body warming your palm. Your fingers moved slowly, tracing the scars along his shoulder, his chest, and finally down to his abdomen. When you reached the top of his jeans, you looked up at him, once again asking for permission.

He leaned forward and kissed you gently. "You don't need my permission, doll," he whispered against your lips.

"Then I think you should remove your pants before I accidentally rip them."

He laughed and stood up, jeans dropping to the floor along with his boxers.

You bit your lip as you looked at him, appreciating his perfection from head to toe. You crooked your finger and beckoned him back to you.

"I think you're wearing too much clothing, sweets. It's unfair," he chided.

"Well perhaps you could help me with that?" you teased.

He grabbed you around your waist and turned you towards him, prompting you to sit up and face him. You giggled as he manhandled you, never once feeling afraid of his strength. He was quick to remove your shirt and your pants, a groan coming from deep in his chest. "No underwear?"

You smirked. "I had plans of my own tonight, handsome."

He grinned. "As long as they were with me, I'm not complaining."

You touched his face and pulled him to you, dragging him back onto the bed with you. "Only you, James."

His body shuddered and he let out another low groan. "You did that on purpose," he mumbled into your shoulder, teeth scrapping along your flesh.

"You're damn right I did."

"God, sweets, you're gonna kill me," he moaned, lips never leaving your skin for more than a heartbeat. He trailed down your body, every inch of your beautiful form laid bare before him, and he'd be damned if he wasn't gonna take the time to fully appreciate it.

His hands felt like fire and ice, tracing lines across your body; his lips like warm velvet, leaving every inch of your skin alight with desire. Soft moans escaped your lips, your own hands clinging to any part of him you could reach, desperate to feel his skin against your fingertips.

When he finally reached your core, your need for him was overwhelming. Bucky could sense it, but he liked to do things at his own pace, in his own time. He placed soft, gentle kisses to your inner thighs, gently across your mound, and down to your soft lips.

You whimpered softly, "Bucky."

He smiled. "I know, sweets. I know. I've got you." His hands rubbed circles into your hips as he held you in place, hot breath against the place you wanted him most.

He watched your face, waiting for the exact moment he would give you want you wanted. It wasn't that he wanted to torture you or make you wait...it was simply a desperate need to watch you come undone from nothing more than his touch.

When he was satisfied by your wrecked expression, he dove into your pussy with abandon. He knew exactly how to please you, years of practice and patience paying off. Your moans echoed throughout the room, fingers tugging on his hair like you were drowning and he was a life raft.

"Bucky, please, I--I need--" you gasped as he slipped two fingers inside of you, knowing exactly what you needed without you having to say it.

Your whole body felt like it was on fire, every inch of you alive in a way only he could make you feel. You gasped and pleaded, and he never stopped, your pleasure the sole thing on his mind.

When you finally came, the pleasure was blinding, so overwhelming that you could do nothing but moan his name. Bucky helped you ride out your orgasm, but he allowed you to pull him away when it became too much for you.

You were panting, limbs trembling slightly, as you watched him lift himself up and crawl towards your face. His movements were slow, his lips planting warm kisses to your soft curves as he went. When he finally reached your lips, your breathing had calmed significantly.

"Hey, beautiful," he whispered.

You chuckled lightly. "Hey, handsome."

It was an exchange that had become almost a ritual. It was exactly what Bucky had said the first time the two of you had ever made love and he had said it every time since. Sometimes before, sometimes during, sometimes after...but he never missed it, and neither did you.

This time though, something felt different. Perhaps it was the way he looked at you, or maybe it was what you carried in your heart...what you desperately wanted to tell him. "Buck," you began softly.

"I love you," he whispered, cutting you off. "I love you so damn much it hurts."

You took a shallow breath and gently caressed his face, a warm smile spreading across your lips. "I love you just as much, Bucky. I hope you know that."

He leaned into your palm and sighed, blue eyes fluttering closed. "I know you do, doll. I know."

"There's something I want to tell you," you murmur.

He feels a stab of fear in his chest, a remnant of his past inability to trust others. But he knows you, knows you would never do or say anything to hurt him, so he pushes that fear aside and opens his eyes to look at you. "I'm listening."

"I umm--well, I've been thinking..."

He cocked his head to the side as he regarded you, waiting for you to say what was on your mind.

"Well, the thing is, we've been married for a couple years now...umm--and I think maybe it would, you know if you wanted, maybe we could..." you trailed off, gaze averting from his face.

"Doll?" he asked softly, pulling your attention back to him. "What is it?"

You shook your head. "Maybe it's stupid."

"Nothing you want is stupid."

"We've never really talked about it. I just...I don't know--it sort of hit me one day and suddenly it's all I can think about."

He brushed some of your hair out of your face, his warm eyes pleading with you to open up to him. "What is, doll?"

"Kids," you whispered so softly he might not have heard you if not for the serum.

His face paled slightly and he inhaled sharply, jaw going slack.

"Never mind, it was stupid," you rushed out. You tried to get out from under him, wanting nothing more than to run away and hide for a couple hours until maybe you either disappeared or he forgot you'd said anything.

"Hey, hey," Bucky said insistently. He kept you from getting away, his hold on you firm, but gentle. "Doll, it's not stupid."

You swallowed thickly, eyes still looking anywhere but at him.

"Look at me, sweets. Please?"

You bit your lip, obvious discomfort etched into your features.

"Please? I need you to look at me when I say this."

You could hear the desperation in Bucky's voice when he spoke and it pulled your gaze back to him, as if you had no control. When your eyes met his, your breath caught in your chest. His beautiful blue eyes were swimming with emotions, just not the ones you were expecting.

"When I met you, my life changed. You have given me everything I could ever want and need; you're my entire world. I would move mountains for you, burn worlds to the ground, whatever you want or need, I will do it." He paused, breathing ragged. "You know what I want, doll? I want to have kids with you. I want a whole little brood. I want to see you barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen, watching as I make you dinner. I want to see this beautiful body of yours so full of life, a life we created together. I want to make you a mother, and I would love to be the father of your children. So if you're asking me if I want to make a baby with you, the answer is an emphatic yes."

Tears welled in your eyes as he spoke, his words warming your soul from the outside in. You could hear the love in his voice and it meant the world to you; he meant the world to you. You took a deep breath and you smiled at him, a few stray tears making their way to your cheeks.

He smiled back at you, his expression so full of love it made you breathless. He gently wiped the tears from your eyes and lowered his lips to yours, kissing you deeply, ensuring you knew exactly how he felt.

When he pulled away, you asked softly, "So...you wanna start now?"

At first his eyes widened, but they quickly darkened, the pupils expanding with lust. "Hell yeah, sweets. I think right now would be perfect."

It didn't take him long to work you back up, his expert hands guiding you, arousal pooling between your legs. In minutes, you were begging him to take you, the need becoming unbearable.

Bucky was never one to deny you, especially when you pleaded with him like this. He slid into you in one smooth thrust, earning a deep pleasured moan from your lips to match his own.

"Shit, doll, you're so tight," he groaned. "You always feel so good wrapped around me."

His movements were quick and intense, each thrust sending a wave of pleasure through you. Your moans were his best encouragement, a song meant only for his ears.

He pictured you pregnant, belly all swollen, carrying his child. A baby the two of you had made together, something he had long ago given up hope of, and the thought made him feral. The images flashed through his mind and he couldn't stop the words that flowed from his mouth as he pounded into you.

"God, I can't wait to see you with your belly all swollen. I bet you'll look so pretty pregnant, glowing like the light of the moon. Prettiest damn thing in the world."

He could tell his words were having an effect on you, but you were completely unable to respond. Nothing but hungry moans dripping from your mouth, head thrown back in ecstasy.

"You're gonna be such a good mama, sweets, I just know it. Gonna be so good," he groaned as you clenched around him. "Fuck, doll, I'm so close."

"Me--too," you gasped, though he already knew that.

"That's right, pretty mama. I wanna feel you cum around me, so I can fill you up. You gonna let me put a baby in you?"

You cried out in pleasure as you reach your peak, nails digging into his back, body shaking beneath him.

He gasped, the pleasure of your orgasm pushed him closer to his own. "That's it, sweets. Gonna make me a daddy--fuck," he groaned as you clenched around him, this time on purpose.

He looked at you, surprised to see you looking at him so intently. "Put a baby in me, James; fill me up," you begged.

It was all he needed to push him over the edge, hot spurts of his seed shot into you as he came with a shout of your name. His body shook slightly as he pulled out of you, quickly grabbing a pillow and sliding it under your hips.

"Buck?" you questioned lightly.

"Gotta make sure all my cum stays inside," he answered breathlessly, before collapsing beside you.

You laughed lightly, a warm smile lighting up your face. "You're ridiculous."

"Maybe, but you still married me."

You laughed harder. "Touché."

"So how many kids are you thinking?" he asked curiously.

"I don't know, probably two or three." You turned your head to look at him. "You?"

"I was thinking maybe, eight?"

"Eight?!" you asked incredulously. "Only if you carry four of them."

He laughed. "I would do that for you if I could, doll. I just want a big family with you...bunch of little kids running around, maybe a couple of dogs. I mean, we already have the house with the white picket fence."

You laughed with him. "Babe, I'm pretty sure those families only had 2.5 kids," you teased. "But for you, I'm open to maybe having a couple more."

His eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Yes," you said with a laugh. "Just don't get too crazy. We're not making an entire baseball team here."

"Damn," he mumbled jokingly.

You smacked him affectionately and he grabbed your hand and placed a soft kiss to it. "I love you, sweets."

You sighed contentedly. "I love you too, Buck."

He sat up and kissed your forehead before helping you turn onto your side, hips still elevated by the pillow. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close, his warmth providing you both comfort and safety. You knew there were still dishes out in the dining room to deal with and whatever mess remained in the kitchen, but you couldn't get yourself to get out of the bed.

As if sensing where your head was at, Bucky whispered, "I'll deal with the dishes later. I'd much rather hold you until you fall asleep."

You sighed and leaned into his chest. "You won't hear me complaining. I'm exhausted."

"Get some sleep, doll." He kissed your shoulder. "Oh, one more thing."

"Hmm?" you hummed.

"I was completely right. Dessert was way better."

He joined in with your laughter, the combination of which was easily the most beautiful sound in the world. It was the sound of two people so wonderfully in love that everything around them seemed to stop and listen, hoping to catch even the slightest glimpse of true love.

[plooto]

⋆˙✧⋆｡ kinkmas day 4 — by the fire ｡⋆✧˙⋆

warnings ❆. in public , na’vi pet names ( syulang -> flower , muntxatan -> male mate ) , palming , hand job , teasing , marking , edging , aged up ! ao’nung .

now playing : mistletoe ; justin bieber

1:55 ──────|─── 1:08

volume : ▮▮▮▯▯▯▯▯▯▯

it was the prettiest night. your siblings and boyfriend’s friends were all splashing in the water, finally getting a break to spend time with each other. you sat next to ao’nung, eyes looking to the horizon while your mind wandered to the most sinful places, the gentle hue from the fire in front of you filling you with warmth.

“ what is it, syulang? what’s dancing in that pretty head of yours? ” you didn’t register what he said, not before you responded,

“ you. ”

your eyes widened as you turned to face him, your face turning a light purple as you saw a smirk splay across his cheeks. you stuttered as he gave you that look, the one that has you weak in the knees. ao’nung is so pretty..he’d be prettier if he was-

“ yeah? you can have me after, ” you fought a whine bubbling up your throat, you scoot closer to him your crisscross bumping with his as eyes flickering back to the group of laughing individuals who were barely within earshot.

“ i mean noww..muntxatan.. ” you pouted. now it was his turn to blush, he stuttered, eyes darting around to see if anyone heard you.

“ here? syulang- your brothers are right there you- shit~ ” you knew he wanted this just as much as you did when his dick jumped under your hand. you gave him a sly grin, knowing if everything else fails, his dick would sell him out.

“ ao’nung~ what they don’t know won’t hurt them.. ” you tilted your head as your thumb swiped over his clothed tip, fingers pressing flat against his shaft. ao’nung cursed, feeling heat poolin his stomach as it reflected in his face.

“ syulang- fuck. y- ah! d- don’t tease.. ” he gave you a half hearted glare, one you replied with an innocent look of confusion.

“ i would never tease you, my love.. ” you shifted your hand, slipping it under the waistband of his loincloth to spread the pre around his tip. you didn’t see it, but you knew it was angry, balls taught with anticipation as you stroked him faster. you leaned over to his ear, pressing kisses beneath it, fangs tugging on the skin on his neck.

“ yn- i- i’m close. ” he muttered, from behind gritted teeth, you smirked into his neck, tugging on the skin just how he likes it. dark bruise forming you laved over the mark with your tongue, removing your hand from under his tweng, his length throbbing with need.

“ w-what, why did you stop? ” you bit your lip, admiring the view of his flushed face.

“ do you want to ruin your loin or would. you rather ruin me? ” you watched as his face lit up with horny excitement, he struggled to stand, pulling you with him.

“ nete, lo’ak, we’re going to turn in okay? ” you yelled towards your brothers, ao’nung pulling you in front of him.

“ bye! ” they yelled in unison, and ao’nung didn’t wait another moment before pulling you away to your mauri.

( roxto turned to neteyam, “ they’re definitely not going to sleep. ” )

tags -> @luvv4j4ybe11

[willowser]

It's my birthday, & I'm not able to celebrate this year on my actual day because of work, but curious how the boys handle reader's birthday OR, what does reader for their birthday? Like, I imagine with bkg we do something small/intimate. But him and our day? He's running himself ragged. Stray cat touya trying to be aloof but also trying so hard. Gojo knowing he can do/get literally anything (for both yalls birthdays) but that's not what he actually wants. I just want to pick your brain lol

omg !! happy happy birthday dear !!! 🥺🩷✨️🦋 how sweet that we get to celebrate it together like this !! even if you are unfortunately stuck at work 😔 i hope what you do get to do for it, eventually, is so, so wonderful !! 😌🌱🔮✨️

HOW FUN LOVE PICKING MY BRAIN LET'S SEE !!

i think — bakugou is pulling out all the stops but also trying not to seem like he is, if that makes sense ?? like in the coming days before, he's saying NOTHING about it, to the point that you're sort of wondering if he forgot 💀 you casually mention it during dinner like—

"oh, and i meant to tell you that my coworkers want to go out for my birthday this weekend, so..."

and he just kind of nods, staring at you from across the table with that look you can't read, and then he asks, "y'gonna be home on thursday though, right?"

which is the crumb of confirmation you were looking for LOL though he still doesn't say anything else about it 😒 only nods again when you tell him that you will be home 😒 and the morning of, you wake up to flowers in the kitchen 🥺 and he !! still !! doesn't say anything !! 🥺 and i feel like it's like that the whole day, him doing little, meaningful things without mentioning it 🥺 you get home and he's in nice pants and buttoning up a nice shirt 🥺 ready for you to get dressed too 🥺

and he maybe looks calm and collected and flippant but HE'S ACTUALLY BEEN STRESSED THE WHOLE WEEK COMING UP TO THIS. could not get the right flowers at two different places, almost lost the reservation to dinner because the restaurant staff are idiots, has been actually looking over what to get you as a present for EVER. STILL NOT SURE HE PICKED THE RIGHT THING 🥺 he's just really good at masking it, but he's been bending over backwards to make sure it goes as smooth as it does 🥺🥺🥺

and he finally tells you happy birthday much later that night, very quietly in your ear as you're falling asleep 😌🩷✨️ what a brat 😌

OMG TOUYA HOW FUN

another one that's trying to make it seem like he's not all that aware — and maybe he's even trying not to care, but he's thinking about you in the coming days. not constantly, but in the back of his mind, he's thinking about the weight of a single gesture, for you.

maybe it would mean too much and he doesn't wanna put that out there yet, or maybe you'll think his attempt at something is laughable, and then he'll be really pissed at himself. but he'll think about the one good birthday he can remember, with his sister and his mom and all the fun he had. the taste of it all 🥺 and — fuck it, he might as well.

maybe he buys flower from the supermarket and a bottle of champagne that was on sale, or a six pack of something, but he shows up at your place almost too late, leaning against the doorframe with a cigarette in his mouth. and he's trying to be so chill, all "hope i didn't miss the party," even though the friends you saw today have long since gone home — but his heart is beating out of his chest because he's never done this for ANYONE 🥺 whether you realize it or not, this is a big thing for him 🥺

the alcohol sucks and neither of you like it and the petals of the bouquet are already falling off by the time he works up the nerve to come see you, but you sit on the rooftop of your apartment and just, enjoy the company 🥺

at one point, he grins too sharp at you and says, "glad i got the birthday brat all to myself."

and you wag a finger at him, though you can't help but to smile because it's enough of an admission to have heat pooling in your cheeks. "just for now, kid," you tell him, sticking your tongue out when he rolls his eyes. "just for now."

and he's smiling too, despite it all. watching the flower he's twirling between his fingers because he can't look at you, not right now. not when you look at him, too.

"'s'fine," he tells you, shrugging. "i'll take whatever you're giving."

AND GOJO actually. i think he's panicking LOL AKGBDKAK

because i think he could give you anything. everything that you could want, whatever he could think to give you — but that doesn't actually help him very much in the moment LOL

he wants to do everything perfect 🥺 so he does — everything. LMAOOO you wake up literally surrounded by flowers and there's a silk robe and matching slippers and an overly sweet cup of coffee on the night stand. he bought you a puppy with a ribbon. there's a bunch of framed pictures he made for the two of you. he comes into the room and your best friend is on the phone because he face timed them so you could talk as soon as you woke up aigbruqkqkq

he's got a buffet for breakfast. he hired a chef for the day. he makes a joke about carrying you everywhere.....that you realize isn't....actually a joke and you have to fight him off LOL there are several different outfits that he knows you've been eyeing and he bought them for you to wear for the day. HE DOES EVERYTHING AND HE'S SO WORRIED IT'S NOT ENOUGH 🥺

by the end of the day, you can tell that he's like. biting his nails behind your back and he's sticking close to your side like he's going to catch you sighing, defeated about something, and when he asks,

"did you have a good birthday?"

it's so genuine, his concern, that you have to hold his face between your hands and squish his cheeks together and shake him a little bit.

"yes," you tell him, for what feels like the hundredth time, before kissing his eyelids. "i did, because i got to spend it with you."

BUT HE'S SO ???? i think he's so weird about gentle affection that he's like..........but did you really though ?? almost as if he doesn't believe it 🥺

you ask him, "do you love me?"

"...well if you have to ask, then—"

and then you have to shake him again, until he smiles. "satoru, i said, do you love me?" and he doesn't say it loudly or to the world, but he just murmurs back a quiet 'yes' that you know he means. "do you love me even though i haven't bought you a puppy or designer clothing or hired someone to make you a full course meal?"

he gets it, then, even if doesn't answer, and relaxes into you a little bit. all day long he's been wide-eyed and high energy, dragging you along from one thing to the next — but now he kind of melts, stress of the day slipping off his shoulders.

you squish his cheeks again and laugh at the face he makes, before giving him a fat kiss. "yes," you tell him again. quietly, as he had told you. "i had a great birthday."

[tinkerbellsuglysister]

tide poolin

[rhinowalker]

The Simpsons Redrawn Comics: Poolin’ Out!

[airfjordans]

in the dead haha. straight up poolin it. and by it, I mean, my hugh jackman

[athousandmorningss]

Poolin & coolin

[lonestar-badash]

The perfect hat doesn’t exis…

[lovelyo]

Colin Not That Much Better Fr

Colin is the lesser evil in this Poolin relationship imo, but he’s still pretty bad. Everyone says he’s this kind sweet cinnamon roll when he has barely showed any of that shit, do we all live in a different timeline? Colin barely has a personality when he had 2 seasons to establish at least a foundation. Season 1 he’s just eating and getting suckered by Marina(granted she had hella good reasons to do so). He was just there in the background with no personality. Even Gregory and Hyacinth showed more of a personality. Same with season 2. That Featherington plotline with the fraud cousin was ridiculous and he did it more out of pity than actually wanting to help.

All they do is tell us about Colin’s character. Mama Bridgerton, what shit are you chatting, how the hell is Colin caring?

If anything, we’ve seen this douche be selfish. Why the fuck did he go to Marina’s house unannounced? To get his own closure.

How is he running off to travel? By using Anthony’s dime to go and fuck around and buy gifts on that same dime.

Why is he barely close with his siblings? Cause he’s traveling without thinking of anyone else. No wonder when he occasionally writes letters to them they barely respond cause they even know their brother is full of hot shit.

What does he do when he sees the clear beef between Eloise and Penelope? Makes it about himself and invites Penelope to their house despite knowing Eloise wants nothing to do with the wench.

Why does he do a complete 180 and pine after Penelope Hilton? Don’t worry, the showrunners don’t even know. We can only deduce from his behavior that he started wanting Penelope after her “glow up”. What does that say about him?

Why doesn’t he want Penelope to be with Lord Debling? Well, it makes him feel sad and jealous. He seemingly doesn’t care that Penelope might have found a genuine man. It makes him feel like absolute shit so hence why they shouldn’t be together.

How caring 🙃

Colin is legit a selfish prick and the show is trying to put glitter all over his bullshit to make it look like gold. But hey, they do the same with Penelope. Such a befitting couple

[fuckin-pistol-whipped]

I was fuckin out at town and there was this about 13-15 year old girl there and her and another boy were play fightin when she fell to the ground and her glasses broke along with the lense and as she got on her knees yoi could see the glass in her skin near the end of her eyebrow fuckin poolin blood outta her damn face and it was hella bad, fuckin poor kid. Hope she gets better

christ alive that do sound nasty. see, i ain't blieve in hittn kids o course, but i see sum like that & i'll b damned if i ain't at least step in th mix

hope she gets bettr 2 & that boy fucks rite off

[swiftlance]

[ Sweet Bun Trio ] - A selection of traditional Faerghus pastries, all small enough to be eaten in one delicious bite! The first bun is filled with sweet cream and topped with icing and a candied cherry. The second is a sweet roll filled with almonds, pecans, and dried cranberries and glazed with honey. The third is a bun sliced in half, filled with almond paste and whipped cream, dusted with powdered sugar on top.

"That's certainly a lovely dress," he says as he approaches her. In his hand is a plate with three little pastries atop. "The blue suits you, I have to say. It's interesting to see you outside of our ghost hunting exploits, but perhaps we can hunt for ghosts here as well?"

He's teasing, light and aloof and uncaring. Then he hands the entire plate over to Nephenee. "You should try these. The beorc chefs here are not so terrible, I think."

"Huh? Oh, um, thank ya," she replies, still feelin' a mite self-conscious 'bout standin' here like she belongs. Interestin' in a good way, she hopes. With King Kilvas, it could mean any number of things.

Horsefeathers, it shouldn't be funny, but her lips give the barest twinge at his joke. So far removed from the dark forest, it don't seem all that serious. "Dunno if'n they'd appreciate us sneakin' round the ballroom, weapons drawn."

Her eyes flick to the plate in his hands. Cautious, she takes it, starin' at the honey poolin' round one of the buns. "...thank ya, Your Majesty." She almost doesn't say anythin' else, almost abandons the hospitality bred inta her since was in swaddalin' cloths.

But it wins out in the end, like always.

"Would ya like halfa one?"

[austronautcirca1147]

🥕Two Headless Geese (Original)

1500 word count thriller challenge! Not my proudest but it's okay

There’s a dead goose on this man’s doorstep.

I’m in front of a hella loaded mansion, starin’ down at a pure white goose. It’s starin’ back at me. I suddenly realise its head is detached from the rest of its body, dried blood poolin’ ‘round it. Tapping the floor with my boot anxiously, I feel somethin’ wet creep into the leather. I shift my gaze. The slimy white of an egg oozes from a pile o’ the things - five o’ em, I think. They’re all smashed, jagged shells stickin’ up’t the sky. Only one’s still aight.

I've dealt with some great deal'a cases before. Serial killers, drug lords, the mob. Never have I seen somethin' quite like this.

The others are looking mighty confused n’ nervous, too. Benny-J’s green eyes are reflectin’ the pure white goose, dartin’ back n’ forth between the goose an’ the man. The Gun’s brow is creased, an’ I know he’s wonderin’ why the dead goose wasn’t a dead man, instead. The only one who don’t look nervous is Grapefruit - he’s our boss. And I know what you’re thinkin’. What sorta nickname is Grapefruit? Far’s I’ve heard, Grapefruit started off his criminal life by swipin’ grapefruits off some peddler, and he’s been just that ever since.

The man at the door waves his hand, silently ushering us into his mansion. With the light, I recognize who he is. Messer Yawnings’ his name, and he’s got most’a the state’s - all but New Orleans’ - infrastructure under his finger. Grapefruit n’ Yawnings go off to some side room, leavin’ us schmucks in the entryway. There’s voices bein’ raised, though I can’t tell what they’re sayin’. It all falls into deadly silence soon enough.

They then appear outta a hallway, an’ Yawnings leads us to his parlour. He pours drinks from a real nice-lookin’ bottle of brandy. I notice that his right pinky’s missing. It ain’t hard’t tell, seeing as he ain’t even tryna hide it. Benny-J leans in and whispers, “Run-in wit de Yakuza, I’m guessin’.” 

Benny-J came from the Luciano-Genovese Family, one of the Five Families over up there in New York n’ Jersey, an’ his “Noo Yawhk” accent’s stronger than any other Yankee’s I’ve ever met. “Yuh know. De Japanese mob?” I shrug. Benny-J’s gaze turns to his drink, his green eyes dartin’ back and forth. 

Yawnings explains that some gang’s left the goose n’ eggs out on his porch when he didn’ pay back some loans, and they’ve been smashin’ an egg for each day. I don’t like that, nah. There’s only one egg outside still left unsmashed, an’ it’s barely an hour to midnight - tha’s when he said the gang would strike.

It’s sudden. Benny-J stiffens, his right hand tensed. Almost immediately after, Grapefruit goes rigid, and Benny-J leans over me, catchin’ him by the shoulder. I hurry to help, and we prop Grapefruit back against his seat, but by then our boss ain't but dead weight. Both our gazes turn to Yawnings, but The Gun’s way ahead of us. A pistol’s already pointed straight at Yawnings’ head, pressed against the guy’s forehead. The Gun didn’t earn his nickname for nothin’.

“Mais sha,” The Gun mutters. He ain’t usually one to talk much. “I think it’s time fo’ Plan B.” Plan B, that means the rare ‘bullet-in-brain’ disease. Yawnings barely says a word before The Gun's pulling the trigger. Bang-n’-a-boom, now we've got two dead bodies on our hands. I'm stunned as you are, but 'pparently Benny-J's got a plan. A switchblade flashes, an’, wouldn’tcha know it, the Yankee’s slit both their throats. He pops the cork outta the brandy bottle with that dagger, sniffs the liquid still inside, and smashes it ‘gainst the table.

"Bittah awhmonds," he mutters, an' it takes a while to realise he means cyanide. "But why would Yawnin's try tuh poison us?" He's mutterin' to himself. "I wonder what else he's gawt hidin'..." Nothin' else said, he turns. Benny-J's got no shame, man, an' he announces he's gonna go search Yawnings' basement. 

The Gun an' I are left wi’ the two dead guys. Sometime later, I ain't sure, I glance to my watch: a quarter to midnight. Benny-J's been gone too long. I ain't the only sorry soul who's noticed, an' then The Gun's up n' gone. 

Soon, I'm shaken outta my thoughts by loud thumping. Something crashes 'gainst a wall. A wooden beam creaks. Finally, a ringin' gunshot finishes it all off. Mais, that can't be good, is all that goes through my head before I'm headin' for where the sounds are comin' from: the basement. 

I'm 'bout to turn a corner down the wooden stairs when a scraping sound freezes my blood. It's dark here. The light flickers, on-off. My pistol’s pulled outta its grip, held straight in front of me. I turn the corner, and there’s a limp form on the ground. A dark silhouette looms over it. The light flickers back on for nothin’ more than a second, and its dim rays reflect off eerie, wolf-like green eyes that are trained right on me. Suddenly, the figure moves.

Years of training fly by, an’ I panic. My finger slips. A bang, a crunch. I hear a sharp inhale, then panting, shallow breaths. We’re silent for what might be a few minutes o’ lifetimes. Then, the light flickers back on. 

The green eyes are gone, but tha’s because they’re facin’ the floor. Benny-J’s got one knee on the ground, left hand held up to his chest, loomin' over The Gun’s dead body. Just a bit aways, there’s some radio device strewn on the floor. Static buzzes from it.

The concrete's stained with blood, an’ I think it’s poolin’ outta The Gun’s neck, somewhere. As I follow the crimson trail, my gaze reaches the soakin’-red blade of a dagger. It’s held tight in Benny-J’s free hand. 

“Greetin’s, awhfficer,” Benny-J says weakly, accent growin' thicker, still not looking up. I freeze, even more confused - it ain’t like I’ve got my badge pinned t’ my suit o’ anythin’. “I'm assumin’ you’re the one PD's said is de friendly one here.” PD? It takes a mo’ or so to realise he means the New York Police Department. Mais, that could only mean one thing.

“Greetin’s back to ya, officer,” I reply slowly. I ain’t sure about this, not at all, but I reach out to help him up. Benny-J drops his dagger, and takes my hand with his own. As he stands, he stumbles. His green eyes are unfocused. It don’t take a genius to see this man ain’t alright. He proves that point by nearly collapsin’ against me, and he coughs, frothy blood pourin’ outta his mouth. 

As we exchange history, he drops the hand that’s pressed to his chest, an’ I see the damage. A bullet wound goes straight through a lung. The pistol at my waist grows heavier by the second. Regret seizes me like a crawfish snare. It’s when he reveals that he was supposed to assassinate us all, aside from one of us who was ‘de friendly one’, as he put it, that I notice there’s a second wound through the shoulder. I remember the bang I’d first heard, an' grimace.

There ain’t nothin’ I can do for the poor guy aside from listen n’ share. He’s from Manhattan, an’ was undercover with the Luciano-Genovese, like he said. When they allied with the New Orleans Mob, Benny-J got transferred down here. I tell him the whole truth, that Imma LSP agent here in New Orleans, an’ that I had no clue he was undercover at all. Tha’ don’t help with the guilt, tho’.

Soon enough, he’s wheezin’, an’ choking sounds escape his throat. In a panic, he reaches out and grabs the radio, mutterin’ somethin’ like “over n’ out, finally.”

“I’ve kept ya too lawhng,” he mumbles to me suddenly, urgency in his voice. “Get outta de house, fast as ya can.” Tha’s all he says before a series of coughs wrack his body, an’ Benny-J’s green gaze reflects the light no more. I’m stunned for a good while, then I scramble to my feet. The Yankee’s proven he knew far more than anyone else here, so I listen. Besides, no one wants’t stay too long in a house with three dead guys n’ a headless goose. 

One look back, an’ then I’m gone, takin’ the stairs by two. The smell of blood fading, I notice a new scent: smoke. It’s sharp, an’ getting stronger. That ain’t a good sign. When I reach the front door, I fling it open an’ step out onto the porch. 

Something cracks under my boot. Slimy wetness creeps in once more. Too familiar. I check my watch. It's five after midnight. 

[groovetrill]

(I'm a bad bitch and I'm that ni**a)

I don't think you heard me, yeah

(I'm a bad bitch and I'm that ni**a)

Just in case you're wondering, oh

I y'all nuh main uh

If you can take it, I don't

Eatin' none, makin' edge

I y'all nuh main uh (Ooh)

If you can take em, I don't (Oh)

Eenie mine and made an and (Ooh, ooh)

Ooh, yeah

If you want to (If ya want to, baby)

Ooh, if you give it, ma-oh-ooh

Oh-oh (Ooh), oh-oh

Oh, toe, on, wow-won-towel

If you take me through the night

Get juice, take me all the light

You do it, ya got to it, you're car poolin'

On bacon taco mayver

You do it, you got through it

You're beat juicin', ooh, hey

(I'm a bad bitch and I'm that ni**a)

I don't think you heard me, yeah

(I'm a bad bitch and I'm that ni**a)

Just in case you're wondering, oh