#recycling jokes because it made me laugh

[daedrabait]

Brynjolf (about Mercer): he's the best guy aroundddd (:

Karliah (after speaking with silence): what about the people he murdered?

Brynjolf: what murduhhh?

[wlntrsldler]

poisoned mercury | long way home

a/n: poisoned mercury is officially over :( but i will be adding small blurbs in between chapters and adding post-chb five star and luke to the masterlist because i'm not ready to say bye to them just yet. enjoy pm's sophomore album cover, optimism don't come easy (unless it's with you). also no tags for this one because tumblr has been super weird and the tags haven't been working for everyone.

x. long way home by 5sos

series masterlist | previous | next

“thank you all for your participation this summer at camp half blood,” mr. d said into the microphone. he was finishing up his end-of-the-year speech and there was no dry eye in the house. all the campers were sniffling as they reminisced on all the memories they made this summer. your dad cleared his throat, “if any of you tell anyone that i cried, i will never forgive you.” 

annabeth giggled, rubbing the tears from her eyes, “your dad makes that joke every year, i swear.” 

“oh, i’m sure,” you replied, laughing along with her. “above all, he is a dad and that means he recycles the same jokes over and over again.” 

“and they’re never funny,” percy added, though he was laughing at what mr. d was saying. “but i feel like i gotta laugh or else i won’t be accepted next year.” 

“you have my permission to not laugh, perce,” you nudged him. “he gotta get some new material.” 

“hey,” clarisse said from beside you. you turned to her, letting annabeth, percy, and grover fall into their own conversation. she was no longer adorned in her camp counselor outfit, opting to wear something from her own closet now that her duties for the summer were finished. “thanks for getting me this job, y/n. kinda changed my life with this one.” 

your eyes darted between clarisse and chris, who was waiting by the wings of the stage ready for his cue to close out the farewell celebration. you placed a hand on clarisse’s knee, giving it a squeeze, “thanks for always having my back, clar.” 

“always,” she nodded, “you’re my sister.” 

you were feeling a lot of things at once. there were a lot of emotions coursing through your veins. you always knew that there were people who cared about you. your parents had a funny way of showing it sometimes, but you never doubted that they loved you. your friends, clarisse, silena, charlie, were always there for you, even during the most stressful times of your life. the poisoned mercury boys who welcomed you with open arms like you were a part of their dysfunctional family the whole time. 

and luke. 

where do you even start with luke? luke castellan was the boy you had promised yourself never to fall for again. the heartbreaker, the player, the musician, and yet, here you were, completely eating your words. everything you thought you knew about him was wrong and since you let your guard down, your world was turned on its axis. he was so much more than what people made him out to be. he was so much more than you expected him to be. 

and you were lucky enough to have him. who knew a summer in montauk would lead to this? 

“to close out our incredible summer, welcome poisoned mercury!” your dad said, clapping wildly as the boys entered the stage. he placed the mic back on the stand, giving short hugs to the band as they walked up to him. luke was the last to hug your dad and their interaction lasted longer than the rest of the boys’. when they pulled away from their embrace, luke had a slight blush on his face and a goofy grin as his eyes scanned the crowd to find you. 

he sent you a shy wave from the stage as he adjusted the mic to his level. you blew him a kiss, which he returned and that made the crowd go wild. to them, luke was blowing a kiss into the ether, a message with no recipient, but you knew it was meant for you. something about it made your heart constrict in your chest. it was still hard to believe he chose you, but luke spent every waking moment making sure you believed it. 

“camp half blood,” luke said, eyes twinkling under the lights. travis picked up his drumsticks from the floor, giving the left one a twirl, as he got situated on his stool. connor and chris played their guitars experimentally, tweaking the strings to get the right key. “man, i don’t even think we can explain just how thankful we are to have spent the summer with you all.” 

luke turned around to face the boys who all nodded in agreement.luke faced the crowd again, sighing, “i learned a lot of things here. one being, there are a lot of talented people out there in the world. getting to work with y’all was such an amazing experience. many of you guys are aspiring musicians, and i’m here to tell you to keep going. i know it seems like sometimes your dreams aren’t worth chasing, but i promise you they are.” 

“some of you kids are so talented,” luke said, shaking his head in disbelief. “little beth, i’m talking about you when i say this. you’re brilliant and i know i’m gonna be seeing your name in the charts in a few years. you got more talent in your pinky finger than we four up here have combined.” 

the rest of the boys laughed, but agreed. luke narrowed his eyes, searching for a few more faces to give a shoutout to, “oh! and our boys percy and grover! we love you guys. keep in touch. you guys have to join us in the studio one day.” 

“did luke castellan just give us a shoutout?” grover asked, turning to percy with his eyes as wide as saucers. 

you laughed, patting him on the back, “i believe he did.” 

“holy shit,” percy mumbled. 

“language.” 

“come on, counselor clarisse,” the blond boy groaned, “camp is over.” 

clarisse huffed, smiling teasingly, “fine. i’ll give you a pass this one time.” 

“not many people know this, but i went to camp half blood when i was younger,” luke continued, looking down at his feet. “it was my favorite place in the world. some of my best memories involved me sitting right where many of you are sitting right now, but then life happened and things went sideways for me for a while. it took me a while to pick up a guitar again, but man, i’m so glad i did.” 

“if it wasn’t for music, i wouldn’t be here in front of you guys today,” he smiled, locking eyes with you, “and i wouldn’t have had the best summer of my life.” 

“holy shit,” clarisse said, mimicking percy. she turned to you with a wide grin, “castellan is talking about you up there.” 

“he is not.” 

as if he read your mind, luke leaned into the mic, “thanks, five star.” 

your heart swelled as memories of this summer flooded your mind; the smoke sessions in your secret spot that soon became luke’s as much as it was yours. hours sitting on the creaky bench as you both got lost in the fog of vices and genuine conversations. the bench where you learned about luke and he learned about you, something more than just introductions and superficial answers; the countless impromptu jam sessions in your cabin that started with you playing records on your speaker and ended with the boys playing their instruments as they screamed out lyrics to their favorite songs with you and clarisse. constant noise complaints from neighboring cabins because you were being too loud so late at night with melodies and laughter escaping through your open window. luke pulling you into his lap as he whispered cheesy love songs into your ear as you giggled; the days in your room, locked away with luke, enjoying his company. his lips always finding their way back to yours like a promise that he’ll always be around. luke. luke luke. 

you were glad the lights were focused on the stage so nobody could see your red cheeks. the boys cheered from behind luke, unabashedly voicing their approval of your relationship. the crowd cheered along, even if none of them knew what the situation was. luke rolled his eyes at his friends for the commotion they started, “the song we’re playing for you today is not yet released, but we decided that it’s the perfect song to end the perfect summer. this song is called long way home, we hope you like it.” 

–

“did you know you had a dimple on your back?” you asked, letting your finger linger in the crevice on luke’s skin. goosebumps raised on his tanned flesh as you lightly grazed his exposed back. “right here.” 

“mhm,” he replied, off-handedly. he didn’t really know what you were saying. he was too dazed by the feeling of your touch on him. you two were on the grass on the hill by the lake, a reprieve, a plead for time to stop even just for a few minutes. tomorrow summer would officially be over. tomorrow the two of you would be leaving camp half blood. tomorrow you would no longer have empty hours to fill with each other. 

luke didn’t want to think about it too much. he’d gotten too used to finding you lounging in your room or in the living room where he could join you to do nothing. to do everything. he didn’t know how he’d survive the next few months without you. your coach gave you the all-clear to resume practice once you were back on campus, which meant that visits during short breaks were no longer an option. luke was happy that things worked out for you, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t disappointed that you could no longer visit him during thanksgiving break. 

droplets of water from your hair trickled down his back. he was face down with his head facing you, eyes fluttered shut as a sign of peace, while you leaned over him, tracing shapes on his back. you’d both just emerged from the water, checking off items on your “summer goodbye bucket list.” that’s what you’ve been up to this last week, revisiting memories and places that you weren’t ready to leave yet. 

you chuckled softly, pressing a light kiss on luke’s spine. he smiled at the feeling of your lips, eyes hazily opening to meet yours. you took your place beside him, propping yourself up on an elbow as you watched luke come back to his senses, “are you even listening to me?” 

“of course,” he lied, grinning at you in the boyish and charming way that always had your knees buckling. he squinted as you moved your head, the heat of the sun hitting his face, “‘m always listening to you, five star.” 

“liar.” 

he laughed then, letting the sound echo into the air, “i try my best, at least. but i’m no multitasker. i can’t concentrate when you’re sitting here all pretty in front of me and touching me like this.” 

“you’re such a flirt,” you grimaced, though the smile on your face gave away your true feelings for the boy. luke looked pretty like this. there was no tension in his shoulders, like he was finally letting himself breathe. you wondered when you’d see him like this again. just last night after the celebration, you two had stayed up talking until deep into the night about how nervous he was to come back to the spotlight. he’d found solace in camp half blood, in not having to look over his shoulder every day in fear of the world. he didn’t know how the public would react to him being back again, especially since he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep up his facade now that it’s all crumbled since he met you. 

maybe it was his lack of sleep that was making him vulnerable and a little delirious, but he shared with you that he felt like he’s changed. the luke that walked into camp half blood who was too scared to be himself in fear of rejection and failure was no longer there. a few months ago, he wouldn’t be caught dead like this, all soft and gentle for a girl. he couldn’t remember the last time he wanted to see a girl more than once. but with you, he couldn’t help it. the luke that he truly was became his default state when he was with you. all he wanted to do was hold you in his arms and be with you for as long as you’d let him. 

“you say that like it’s a bad thing, baby,” he grumbled, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. “you don’t like it when i flirt with you?” 

you rolled your eyes playfully, adjusting your head until you fully blocked the light from his face again. you laced your fingers with his, letting out a hum when he squeezed your hand. “i didn’t say that.” 

“so, let me flirt with you,” luke said. “i like flirting with you. you blush every time i do it and i think it’s fucking adorable.” 

“stop,” you whined knowing that the blush he was referring to was starting to show on your skin. maybe you could blame it on the heat, but you both knew that that would be a lie. it was because of him. it was always because of him. “you like teasing me, don’t you, castellan?” 

“a little bit,” he admitted, scrunching his face up in a way that brought out the creases between his eyebrows. his lips curved into a lopsided smile. his arms reached out to snake around your waist, pulling you on his body as he laid on his back. he placed his hands along the expanse of your bare thighs as you situated yourself on his abdomen. your fingers played with the silver chain around his neck. luke massaged your thighs, sighing out, “i like knowing i have that effect on you.” 

“me and half the female population,” you snorted, “as much as you act like you know just how amazing you are since you have a gigantic ego, i feel like you also don’t give yourself enough credit.” 

luke quirked an eyebrow, “was that a compliment, five star?” 

“don’t get used to it,” you smacked his shoulder lightly, making him let out a chuckle. his chest rumbled from under you as his hands made their way up your waist. luke’s hands were always warm. he had callouses on his fingers from playing guitar and bumps on his palms from lifting at the gym. there were characteristics about his hands that made you believe that you’d know his touch even if you were blindfolded. there was something different in the way he touched you, even in the most innocent ways, you knew when it was luke. there was a light in your brain that would go off every time he was around, like your body, mind, and heart knew when he was there. 

“i’ll take what i can get,” he conceded.

“does it bother you that i don’t compliment you as much as you compliment me?” 

“nah,” he replied, looking up at you. the sun was framing your face in a way that made his breath hitch. you looked ethereal like this. it was like you were a figment of his imagination. luke had to place his hand flat on your ribcage to feel you breathe just to convince himself that you were real. “makes these little moments even sweeter.” 

“but you know, right?” you questioned, eyes not once leaving his own. a shadow of doubt flashed across your irises. “you know what i think of you?” 

luke castellan had a way with words that left you speechless. perhaps it was because he was a songwriter, trained to string together words in a way that you could never achieve. he made a living by writing, by voicing how he felt, and turning it into art, into music. there were many moments where luke would say things so poetically that it made your head spin. he says things so casually, so easily like he didn’t just utter out the most romantic things you’ve ever heard in your life. 

you envied him for it, a little bit. you wished you could tell him how you felt about him as easily as he said it with you, but anything you tried to say felt like it would pale in comparison. luke didn’t mind. you had your own way of showing him how you felt. it was in your touch, taking your time to admire his imperfections. it was in the way you kissed him, smiling so wide like you couldn’t help it whenever he would press his lips to yours. it was in the way you paid attention to him, the little things that he didn’t even realize he did. 

“‘course, i do,” luke tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear. he took his time bringing his hand back to your waist. he liked seeing you nuzzle your face into his palm as you kissed his wrist. “but i wouldn’t be opposed to hearing you say it, either.” 

“i’m not good at saying how i feel,” you said, shoulder hunching as you spoke. it felt like you were letting him in on a secret that you’d never told anyone else. luke could feel his heartbeat in his chest. you dropped the poisoned mercury pendant back on his chest as you leaned down to bury your face in the crook of his neck. “i’m working on it, though. might just take me a while.” 

luke smiled at you. his voice was earnest as he placed a kiss on the top of your head, “we got all the time in the world, five star. there’s no rush.” 

you furrowed your eyebrows at his words, “we leave tomorrow, luke.” 

“mhm,” he repeated, thumb running across your lower back. it made you shiver, the realization of his words hitting you. “like i said, we got all the time in the world.” 

you pulled away from him, cradling his face in your hands as you placed a kiss on his lips, “yeah, we do.” 

[tpwrtrmnky]

Accidently exposed my brother in law who has neither twitter or tumblr to the idea of Lockheed-Nestle

He told me the company that made the recyclable cup that I stole also made satellites and programs used by the DoD and I said "wow, that's some real Lockheed-Nestle shit" and he broke down laughing

Just thought you should know everyone thinks that's the most hilariously over the top evil supermonopoly they've ever heard of

(Made me mad cause it's a really good cup, but also happy I stole it)

See this is good because it means the joke works to people who have no idea what the fuck I'm talking about

[waitimcomingtoo]

SLUT!

chapter six: if a man talks shit then I owe him nothing

series masterlist

You spent the weekend holed up in your dorm room and avoided going outside at all costs. Stories and rumors from the party made their way around campus, making your reputation was worse than ever before. You skipped class on Monday and thought about skipping class on Tuesday as well but you didn’t want your grades to suffer because of some stupid jocks and their hateful words.

As you walked to your chemistry class that Tuesday, you tripped over someone’s foot in the hallway and went down. You landed on the floor and looked up to see Harry smirking at you.

“Ops. Sorry. Didn’t you see there.” He snickered. You got up and dusted yourself off before trying to open the door to your classroom. That’s when you noticed the sign on the door that said class was delayed a a few minutes due to a test being taken in that room. Harry’s next door class was also delayed for a test, explaining his presence in the hallway. Gwen and a couple other girls on your soccer team who were in Harry’s class were waiting as well, adding to the long list of people you did not want to be around.

And just when things couldn’t get any worse, Peter walked up to the classroom door. You watched him look the sign and accidentally made eye contact with him once had read it. You both quickly looked away and you turned around all together to avoid looking at him. A few more boys in Harry’s class walked up and smirked when they saw you.

“Hey Y/n, when you go in for STD testing, do they give you a little punch card since you go there so often?” One of the boys asked you, making everyone else in the hallway laugh at your expense.

“Shit, I hope so. She’s probably their number one customer.” Another boy added.

“I doubt she gets tested. When you sleep with as many guys as she has, you build up immunity to STDs. There’s probably diseases brewing in her that science hasn’t even discovered yet.” Harry laughed. You ignored them, but Gwen and your teammates looked at Harry with disproval.

“Hey guys, what’s the difference between Y/n’s mouth and the boys locker room?” One of the guys asked.

“What?” Harry asked, already laughing.

“They’re both covered in the DNA of the football team, but at least the locker room closes after 6 pm. Y/n stays wide open all night. Isn’t that right?” A guy asked you and slung his arm around you. You pushed him off of you and he stumbled back into the wall. You then looked at Peter, who had been silently listening to what had been going down.

“Are you seriously not going to say anything?” You asked him. Peter stared at you and felt speechless. He knew he should stand up for you, but he was still hurt over the events at the party.

“Of course not. You’re unbelievable.” You laughed dryly and shook your head at him.

“Aw. What happened, Peter? Did you catch her with one of the basketball boys?” One of the guys asked with fake sympathy.

“No.” Peter scoffed and you thought he might actually stick up for you.

“He was on the hockey team.” Peter added, not even knowing why he did it. Everyone laughed and Peter once again had the approval of the guys he despised. He hated the way he was behaving but couldn’t stop.

“You’re just like Brad, you know that?” You said to Peter as you started to walk away from the classroom.

“Where are you going?” Peter asked you, but you didn’t answer.

“To sleep her way into a new school, I bet.” Harry mumbled.

“Oh shut up, Harry.” Gwen groaned. Harry looked at her in surprise as his friends murmured in amusement.

“Excuse me?” Harry asked her.

“If you’re going to disrespect another women so easily right in front of me, what’s stopping you from doing the same to me?” Gwen asked and folded her arms.

“Uh, what? Are you guys BFFs all the sudden? You make fun of her too. We all do.” Harry pointed out.

“I called her a slut a few times behind her back but you guys are just pigs. You never let up. You all recycle the same stupid jokes that no one even finds funny anymore. And don’t think I haven’t heard about what happened at the party. You guys have taken this way too far.”

“Yeah. And how can you claim she’s full of diseases when you made it public knowledge that you slept with her? Doesn’t that make you full of diseases too?” One of the girls on your team asked.

“No. Cause I never actually slept with her.” Harry scoffed. “None of us have. It’s just a joke.”

“Wait, what do you mean never even slept with her?” Gwen asked. “You told me she tried to hook up with you an hour after we broke up.”

“Yeah, that’s the joke. We all say shit like that. That’s what makes it funny.” Harry tried to explain but he was having a hard time being convincing. The girls were looking at each other and they came to a stark realization: what the boys did to you could have and could still be done to any of them. And that they had realized that they’d been tricked into doing some of the dirty work for Harry and the other guys, they were angry.

Meanwhile, Harry was uncharacteristically smart enough to realize that the girls had turned on him. He looked around at their disgusted faces and gulped.

“Woah.” Harry laughed nervously. “The females are angry. Chill out. It’s just a joke.”

“Well I haven’t passed the ball to her in months because of your little “joke”. We could’ve been a team this whole time but you made us think we couldn’t trust her.” Gwen said angrily.

“So?” Harry scoffed. “It’s just a stupid soccer game? And she’s just a stupid-“

“Don’t.” Gwen cut him off. Harry scoffed and was about to defend himself, but she wasn’t done.

“I don’t want a boyfriend who hates women, Harry. I put up with this for way too long. I should’ve never believed you over her. None of us should have. I can’t take back what I did to her but I can make sure it never happens again. So we’re over.” Gwen stated. Harry looked around at all the people staring at him and felt small for the first time in his life. It was the way he always made you feel, but he didn’t know that until now.

“Well thanks a lot, Gwen. Now I don’t want to go to Intro to Modern Western Art.” Harry grumbled and left the hallway with his friends following after him. Peter smiled at Gwen standing up for you but it didn’t last long.

“What are you smiling at?” She asked him.

“Me?” Peter asked and pointed to herself.

“You were her boyfriend and you didn’t defend her. You took their side.” Gwen said angrily and pointed to where the guys had just been.

“She cheated on me. Why should I defend her?” Peter asked quietly.

“Cheated on you? Wasn’t that just a stupid rumor from the party?” Gwen asked skeptically.

“No. She texted me to come get her at a party and I caught them in bed together.”

“Caught her with who?” She questioned.

“I don’t know who the guy was. He was passed out next to her in bed. You didn’t see the picture?” Peter asked her. Gwen raised an eyebrow and took out her phone. It didn’t take long for her to find the picture and when she did, she laughed dryly.

“First of all, this is the most staged photo I’ve ever seen. They’re both fully clothed and they’re not even facing each other. She literally has shoes on in this picture. And if she’s passed out, how was she texting you?” Gwen asked him. Peter opened his mouth to respond but realized he had no answers. He’d wondered the same questioned Gwen had just asked and hearing them out loud made him wonder when more. He was about to go after you when the classroom door finally opened. The professor ushered everyone in and Peter was stuck for the next hour and a half. He knew you had a game later that day and decided to go talk to you then to finally hear your side of the story.

When you walked into the girls locker room later that day, the entire team was already in there. They were all looking at you, something you were used to, but it was different this time. They looked apologetic instead of judgmental.

“Hey.” You said skeptically and put your bag down. Gwen stood up and walked towards you, making you gulp in anticipation of what she was about to do. She threw her arms around you and hugged you tightly, taking you by surprise.

“I’m sorry.” She said in your ear as the other girls walked over to you as well. They all joined in on the hug while you stood there in confused silenced. Gwen pulled away after a minute and kept her hands on your shoulders.

“I know we haven’t been the nicest to you. And you have no reason to forgive us-“

You cut her off by pulling her back into the hug. You felt your eyes well up with tears and began to cry as Gwen hugged you tighter. The girls wrapped their arms around you again and let you cry as long as you needed to.

“We’re on your team. Whatever you need. We can walk you around campus so the jocks can’t harass you anymore.” One of the girls told you.

“And we’ve been reporting the pictures online so they get taken down. It’s been working so far. You can’t find it as easily now.” Another said.

“Why are you guys being so nice to me?” You asked them as you wiped your face.

“Because we believe you.” Gwen told you.

“You do?” You smiled hopefully.

“We do.” She nodded. “And I’m sorry I didn’t believe you sooner.”

“It’s okay.” You can told them. “I’m just glad you do now.”

“Of course. We got your back from now on. We already started to try and make it up to you. You should’ve seen the way we ganged up on the guys in the hallway today.” One of the girls laughed.

“Yeah.” Another girl said. “They were all bumbling and embarrassed. None of them were safe.”

“Not even Peter.” Gwen added, taking you by surprise.

“You guys went after Peter?” You asked as a smile tugged on your lips.

“Yeah. Just because he stayed silent doesn’t mean we were gonna be.” Gwen insisted. You smiled fondly at her, and then it turned sad.

“You know, I’ve been called a slut more times than my own name at this point. But I think it hurt the most coming from him. Why is that?” You asked them.

“Because he knew you. And he still called you something he knew you weren’t.” Gwen replied. You nodded your head when you heard how you were feeling put into words.

“Come on. We can plot ways to get back at him later. We have a game to play.” Gwen said as she took your hand. You all went out onto the field and played your best game of the season.

Peter sat alone in the bleachers to watch your game. He noticed that the girls were passing to you this time, pretty often too. You scored two goals and were met with hugs from the other girls when you did. Your team won the game and walked off the field with your arms around each other. All the pain from the weekend had temporarily subsided now that you were finally welcomed by your team. You had a huge smile on you face as you walked towards the locker room until you saw Peter walking towards you. You froze until he was right in front of you.

“Hey.” He said nervously.

“What are you doing here?”

“I signed my name on your clipboard and said I’d be at all your games, didn’t I?” He smiled weakly but you stayed coldly staring at him.

“What do you want? To call me a slut some more?” You asked and folded your arms.

“No. I’m never gonna call you that again. I never should’ve said it in the first place.”

“You’re right. You shouldn’t have.” You agreed. “You told me you hated Brad and then went and acted just like him.”

“Do you think we could talk? Just the two of us?” Peter asked hopefully.

“Oh, now you want to talk? What about when I wanted to talk at the party? You didn’t seem to want to talk then. You just wanted to scream at me and call me a slut in front of everyone.”

“I’m sorry about that but-“

“Or what about in the hallway before? When those boys were making fun of me? You didn’t want to talk then. You said you loved me yet you were totally comfortable remaining silent while they ridiculed me. How does that work, Peter?”

“I’m sorry about that. About all of it. I was angry with you and I’m still trying to understand what happened. Can we please talk so we can figure this out?”

Before you could respond, one of the girls from your team came behind you and put her arm around your shoulders.

“Sorry. We have plans.” She said to Peter.

“Really? You guys are going out together?” He raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Yep. So if you wanted to publicly embarrass her again, you’ll have to do it some other time.” She said and led you away. Peter sighed and watched you walk away with your team. He could feel his chances of making things right with you slipping away with every step you took. It seemed like talking to you and getting the whole story was gonna be harder than he thought.

Tag List 💋

@breadglasses @hollandweather @cashtons-wife @scenesofobx

@trumanbluee @classygladiatortidalwave @miwagila @sarcasm-and-stiles

@hitoshislut @misspascalpunk @buckylovinglokivariant @betzabobababi

@eterjas @pleasingregulus @avatarjuno @dreamingofts18

@crxmxnzl-c0rpzes @erule @justsomebodyweird @un06 @tom-hollands-wifey

@bellajg21 @madlyinlovewmattmurd0ck @secretly-a-cold-blooded-murderer @ferrjulie

@kitykatnumber @angelayse @cleosertoriooc @iamdedsthingz @girls-and-guts

@tomshufflepuff @lovely-blackinnon @matchafrappeidm @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @kneelforloki

@xorderedkaosx @dory-98 @okayiamkassandra @chaerfull @trulygnomed

@hey-girl-hey @spilled-coffee-cup @emotionsmgcbabe @ilikestrawberriesandwomen @bubblegumholland

[an-au-blog]

In the vamp!Sanji au, Sanji still gets nosebleeds, but it's way worse because they make him hungry and he doesn't have unlimited blood. He tried "recycling" the blood and drinking from his nose bleed because it's technically a waste of food. Chopper tried to ban him from doing it, plus wasn't it technically cannibalism? But it didn't stop him from trying. He soon realized any kind of vampire blood made him horribly sick.

Often after battles the straw hats (or at least the ones he can drink from) joke about him licking their wounds. And he laughs with them, even if it's at his experience, because he can't be mad at them for joking about something he does behind their backs.

Zoro is the only one who pulled him aside to propose the same thing. Only difference was that he wasn't joking. At night, Sanji will wait outside, or in the pantry until everyone's asleep and then creep in the informatory. He would find Zoro awake and waiting for him. And Sanji, the unsuspecting fool, flocked like a moth to a flame.

Sanji would carefully remove the bandages and start licking every wound. Though with the care that it felt like he was kissing or making love to his wounds. It made him sick, it made him feel like a leach, a parasite. But then Zoro would whisper something like "Vampire saliva has healing qualities, so it's really you that's helping me." And Sanji would somehow feel worse, but at least he'd be grateful that Zoro put in an effort to make him feel better.

The first few times it happened, Sanji was clumsy with putting the bandages back on. Chopper would be so mad and worried. Zoro could excuse himself with moving in his sleep only a couple of times, then he moved to saying that he changed them himself. He was a horrible lier, but they were lucky Chopper was naive enough to believe it.

But with time, Sanji watched and learned how to put the bandages just like their doctor did. He begrudgingly realized he enjoyed taking care of the marimo.

In one particular case, while Sanji was reapplying the bandages, Zoro started coughing up blood. He tried to suppress it not to wake anyone up, but he started choking. In the heat of the moment Sanji kissed him and started taking in whatever he was coughing out. It was gross and tasted like snot, but it was something that completely changed their dynamic from then on

[angel-of-the-moons]

A Rose Under The Moon

Moon Knight System (Marc/Steven/Jake) x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: None really, chit-chat between some gal pals, some implied bi/pan reader.

A/N: Never fear, best gal Layla is here! Also the Hippo-Mama!

And I totes recommend reading the Hobby Headcanons that @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction wrote on the boys! I plan on implementing them all! (Also read all their other things, their Nathan Bateman shit is *insert Paccha meme here*) I need to read up on American football because frankly I have no clue how sports worked since I played soccer and baseball as a kid, before I write about Marc's lest I sound like some plebeian who's guessing everything lmao

Taglist: @bad4amficideas @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @shirukitsune @lokisremainingsanity

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Chapter 5:

Old Friends

You were minding your own business, cleaning up the mess of tossed books that a couple was oh so kind enough to allow their child to scatter.

You hoped you'd never see them again. While they sat at the nook, sipping coffee and eating the muffins, their child was running around, causing havoc and destroying your beautiful, well-organized shop. Oh, your poor shop…

The couple weren't happy when you charged them for the books their son had ripped up and destroyed beyond salvage, the books he colored in.

Yeah, you really hoped they would never come back.

You looked at your burned hand with a frown. It had been a few days since you hurt yourself, and while painful, the burn wasn't actually that bad. Some aloe, some ice… And it started to clear up after the first day, the blisters receding quickly. You flexed your fingers and tilted your head, curiously wondering if your soulmate could feel the burns, as well. When the thought crossed your mind, you pulled up your sleeve and looked at the mark on your wrist, checking to see which moon would be full today.

The bottom right one. It had been that one a lot, lately.

The bell to the front door dinged, and you straightened up, mentally preparing yourself for the forced smile you were going to have to put on, now.

You cleared your throat and spun around, broom in hand, looking at the woman who just walked in.

She was beautiful. Her tanned skin complimenting her dark eyes and mass of wavy curls. She smiled at you, a bit more genuine.

"Oh! Hello, welcome to Here Today Books." You say politely. "Can I help you?"

"You look like you need it more, sister." She sighed, smiling sympathetically, nodding to the pile of ruined books you now had to put into recycling. Her accent was… it wasn't American, like yours. It sounded similar, but her words had some kind of twinge to them.

"Ah, yeah… a couple and their lovely child were my most recent patrons." You joke dryly.

"Ah, a little tornado, huh?" She snorted, shaking her head.

"Yep. For sure." You sigh, giving her a new, more genuine smile. "Now, were you looking for anything in particular today?"

"Oh, actually, a friend told me about this place, and I was curious." She mused.

That… took you by surprise. People actually talk about your store? Like, as in tell other people about it? This was news, for sure.

"O-oh?" You blink.

"Yeah, he said you made good muffins and tea. I'm more of a coffee fan in the morning, myself, though. Tea is more of a night thing." She chuckled.

You tilt your head at her, gears in your brain whirling.

"Are you friends with Steven Grant, by any chance?" You ask.

She laughs. "Yes! I'm Layla. Layla el Faouly." She holds out her hand for you to shake, and you, without thinking, extend your healing hand.

She shakes it gingerly, her eyes focused on the rosy skin like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

"That… looks like it hurt." She said.

"Oh, this? I was just dumb and grabbed a hot pan without thinking." You said, examining your hand casually.

"Oh… Yeah, that's not good for you, y'know?" Layla joked softly.

"Yeah, not the worst pains I've ever had, trust me." You reply. "Now, uh… are you looking for a book? Or after some of the coffee? Or my muffins?"

"Oh! I think I'll just explore a bit, if that's all right with you." Layla said with a nod.

"Oh, I don't mind! If you need anything, just holler!" You wave at her as she disappears into the shelves.

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"You saw it?" Layla muttered softly to herself; or more accurately, to the giant hippo-woman clad in gold and jewels standing next to her, only visible to her eyes.

"Yes, yes I did. Didn't Marc mention that he had phantom pains in that same hand?" Taweret chuckled.

"Yeah. I mean… It could be coincidence, but…"

"You should talk to her. The poor dear looks dreadfully lonely." Taweret sighed, looking even more gargantuan as she peers at the contents of the shelves pressing down around her, her cute little ears flickering back and forth.

She picked up a book on psychology, finding it suddenly terribly interesting, her eyes widening as she scans the pages faster than a human ever could.

"I will. If we're right about our assumption, then, maybe we can… I don't know…"

"Play matchmaker?" Taweret giggles.

Layla softly smiles, not paying attention to the open book in her hands as she chuckles.

"Yeah. We can play matchmaker."

"Oh, let's just see how this plays out first, m'love?" The goddess giggled.

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Layla wanders to the front of the store, two hardback romance novels in her hands and you smile as you restock some old sci-fi novels into your discount rack.

They were the kind of romance novels with the covers reminiscent of oil paintings, the pretty ones. Not the stupid photoshopped ones that are being printed nowadays.

"Find something you like?" You chuckle.

She waves the books with a wide grin, "I've actually been looking for these copies for ages. At one of the places I was working, some jerk stole them from my locker."

"Oh gods, that is horrible!" You gasp. Why would anyone steal books?! At most, those particular novels, even new, only went for a few pounds!

"I know, right! They were autographed and everything!" Layla groaned.

You felt even more offended on her behalf. If those books were autographed and authentic, they would go for actually a decent sum for a collector online...

"That's even worse than just stealing a regular copy!" You clucked.

Layla wiggled the books in her hands. "But, hey! You have hardback copies, and in very good condition. Mine were old, beat up paperbacks!"

"Well, I'm more than happy that you found them!" You grinned widely.

Layla tilted her head to the left slightly, like she had heard something from behind her, and then she looked right at you, eyeing you up and down briefly, as if she were thinking.

You quirked an eyebrow at her in concern.

"Is everything all right?" You ask.

"Hm? Oh! Yes, yes I'm okay! I just have this... thing. The ringing in my ears?" She coughs, abashed.

"Oh! You have tinnitus? I have a booklet or two on medical things that might have something in it for you if you'd like." You chirp helpfully.

Layla put her hand up, chuckling as she declined politely. "Thank you, but no, I'll be okay. It's not constant or anything like that, it's just that I got off a plane the other day and my ears popped and haven't righted themselves yet.."

"Ooooh..." You nod in understanding. "Where'd you fly in from, if you don't mind my asking?"

She smiled. "Cairo."

"That's the accent!" You gasp in realization, pointing at her.

Layla laughed when you blushed and apologized for the outburst.

"It's fine, and yes! How'd you guess?"

"I used to have an exchange student, he would come in here and buy books for his college courses all the time! He was born and raised just outside Cairo." You chuckle.

"Ohh! Interesting." Layla hummed, looking at the books in her hands.

"Hm... you mentioned you had a menu of sorts?"

"Sure!" You lead her over to one of the nooks, and hand her the laminated mini menu you had available.

Her eyebrows raised, impressed at the various items you had available.

"Oh! This is actually nice..."

"Yep! Most of it is made to order by me, so some of it'll take a bit to bake." You grin proudly.

"Oh... well in that case, is it okay if I ask you to keep me some company? If you're not busy? I don't actually have too many friends other than Steven and his... er, brothers and my... uhhh... surrogate mom, so being able to have another woman to chit-chat with would be very welcome..."

To say you were surprised at the offer was an understatement.

"Oh! Uh, sure! I don't... I don't mind!"

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You and Layla clicked very well. You had similar tastes in things like reality TV, romance novels, even skincare routines.

But when she started talking about herself, is when it got interesting. It turns out she had been married to Marc at some point.

She was his ex-wife. The one he told you about.

"I imagine it's kind of awkward for you two, huh?" You remarked.

"Oh, me n Marc? Not at all! We're still good friends, it's just..." Layla set her coffee down, frowning as she tried to think of how to describe it.

"...After a while, whatever we had... like... the spark, I guess? It just... faded. Marc went through a bit of soul searching and after he did that, well..."

They weren't soulmates.

"Ah... I understand." You sighed.

"What about you?" She asked, a small sly smirk playing her lips.

"Oh! Uh... yeah. No. Nothing for me, I'm afraid." You chuckle awkwardly, rubbing the back of your neck.

"Oh? Nobody special or anything like that? Never kissed someone?"

"Well, I mean, when I was in highschool I kissed a girl on a dare." You sip your own coffee.

"A girl?" Her eyebrows raised in curiosity.

"Yeah, to be honest I'm not sure what kind of preference I have, because I've never really been attracted to anyone before, but it was... weird. Didn't feel like everyone talked it up to be."

"Ah... so... are you waiting for your soulmate, then?" Layla asked a bit tightly.

"Yeah... I know it's stupid, but..." You say, looking down at the mug in your hands.

"Not really. Who doesn't want to meet the one person that is your other half?" She said, smiling softly in sympathy.

Her finger traced the rim of her cup idly, trying to think of the best way to go about phrasing the next question without being obvious about her suspicions.

"Do you... have any ideas of who it might be?" She finally asked.

You shake your head and shrug. "D'nno. I don't know if it's a man or a woman or... well anybody, really. I don't know what it's supposed to feel like once you meet your soulmate because each bond is different so..."

Layla wanted to scream. She wanted to facepalm, she wanted to smack her head on the table. She wanted to splash her coffee into her face.

Taweret was giggling like mad.

"Not as easy as you assumed it was going to be, eh Little One?" The goddess smiled behind her hand at Layla.

Her eyebrow twitched, knowing full well she couldn't retort without looking insane or revealing her position as Taweret's avatar.

You had to be Marc's (and possibly Steven's and Jake's) soulmate. It was all just too coincidental for her liking.

"Oh! That's... well I hope they're close by!" Layla said, forcing a very strained smile.

How could you and Marc be this thick?!

That fact alone had to mean something.

"That's everyone's hope, isn't it?" You chuckled softly, a small fond smile on your face, a glimmer of sadness in your eyes.

Layla felt sympathy for you in the moment, realizing how terribly lonely you must be feeling. And how much pain.

Especially with Marc and the others doing Khonshu's will.

Taweret seemed to pick the thought out of thin air, so in tune with Layla she could tell by the flash in her eyes what she was thinking about.

"Ohhh! That bloody old bone-head!" She huffed, her nostrils flaring as she crossed her arms, her bottom lip poking out from beneath her muzzle.

"He needs to give those poor boys a break! Especially because whatever happens to them, happens to her!" She gestured to you with her big, yet gentle hands.

Layla cleared her throat.

"Well, uh.... since I've told you about me... why don't you tell me about you? Where were you born, stuff like that?" Layla asked you, still smiling.

"Oh! Me? I'm afraid it's not very interesting." You chuckled dryly.

Layla looked outside as the rain came down in sheets. Not very appealing to walk back to the boys' flat in this weather... especially not for her hair.

"It looks like I've got time, love. Go ahead! We can have some more drinks while we chat."

You smiled a bit wider.

It was nice to have a girl-friend to talk with, again.

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When Steven had woken up, Layla was gone, and Marc and Jake left Steven quite alone in the body, letting him front entirely for the day. She'd left a note on Gus and Co's tank saying she went out for a bit for some fresh air.

Which, quite frankly, Marc said was bullshit because of the weather. Layla wouldn't go out in a monsoon and risk her hair becoming an unmanageable spongy mop that would take forever to dry, unless she was going somewhere very specific.

It was one of the things she complained about the most when they were together, something he thought was amusing. He remembered one time they got caught in a rain after their wedding, and at the hotel she was fussing and muttering under her breath as her wet curls hung over her face, desperately trying to get the dripping mass of hair to dry, glaring at herself in the mirror.

Steven sighed, and made his morning cup of tea and went about his routine. He dusted some, and decided to slip on his apron and play with some recipes he'd found online.

The apron was a bit... "dinky" as Marc had called it. Jake apparently ordered it online when he saw the slightly cartoon'd Egyptian motifs on it and left it as a present for Steven, since his favorite thing to do other than read was to cook (and he was a major Egyptophile).

When he was finished, he'd placed the extra portions in a small container in the fridge for Layla when she returned, in case she was hungry.

Then, he sat down, ate, and read a book while he played some music over the cheap sound system Marc installed.

When Layla returned, she was... dry. Remarkably dry. Her hair was still perky and everything!

She apparently bought an umbrella while she was out, placing it in the holder so no excess water dripped on the floor.

"Ah! Hey Steven." She chuckled, walking up and kissing his cheek, knocking his glasses off to the side as she did, placing her bag on the little table nearby.

"How'd you know?" Steven chuckled, adjusting his glasses as he looked up at her.

"Well, aside from the fact you're hunched over like a goblin over a book... the flat smells wonderful. You've obviously been cooking. Not Marc." She grinned.

"Ha!" Steven giggled.

Layla hummed as she set her new purchases on the table, folding the little canvas bag neatly.

Steven's eyebrows shot up when he saw the books.

"Where were you..?" He asked, clearing his throat.

"Oh, y'know... exploring. Went out for a tea..." She grinned at him out of the corner of her still ridiculously beautiful eyes.

"Visited that bookstore you 'n Marc told me about."

Steven fidgeted in his seat.

"O-oh..."

"Mhmm." She tapped her nails on the books' hard covers; she then turned around and crossed her arms, still grinning as she leaned her hips on the table.

"....Why are you looking at me like that? And where did you get that umbrella..?"

"Oh, well..." She shrugged, sighing a bit dramatically, looking elsewhere in the flat for dramatic effect.

She looked back at him, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

"Your little girlfriend who owns the bookstore. She really is a sweetheart, she let me borrow it while I'm in town."

"Bloody hell! Layla! It's not like that at all--" Steven sputtered, almost dropping the book in his hand.

She started cackling madly, walking into the kitchen, and opened the refrigerator.

"Ooh! What'dja make?"

Steven made a noise, burying his face in his hands as he tried to hide the faint blush that crept up his face and set up shop in the tips of his ears, knocking his glasses up to his forehead.

"Bloody hell!" He groaned into his palms.

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Chapter 6: Link

[familyagrestefanblog]

You know what's so sad about how badly Ladynoir got nuked that it actually turns around to be funny again?

Not only did Marinette telling Chat Noir that she'll never abandon him loose all meaning in season 5 because she left after being told "no" by him once (and she already wanted to leave before Plagg initiated his plan:

I know, its almost like the show is going out of its way to nuke Ladynoir) and proceeded to not think about making sure it's at least Scarabella again who Chat Noir will be meeting after last episode to try and prevent the same "new Ladybug" disaster she said she was sorry for from happening again. And who has to tell him the bad news that this time Ladybug left for good and that it was him saying "no" that caused it.

So exactly all the problems with Hack-San again just for real and WORSE, and even the fear he was talking about at the end - that one day it wouldn't be her and he'll never see her again.

It is incredibly difficult for me to be upset with Adrien for leaving bc of all this. Even if I want to. Marinette's side is just so much worse again

But, no. That's not it!

Even the one and only tini-tiny thing she actually DID manage to remember him for while she threw the darkest red-alert situation at him in "Hack-San", it still ended up ringing pretty much hollow by the end of season 5.

I swear, not a single Ladynoir excuse for Marinette in "Hack-San" is in any way holding up. It's insane.

Cause not ONCE in all of season 4 and 5 does Marinette as Ladybug laugh at anything Chat Noir says. She straight up acknowledged it towards Alya that it makes him happy and she seriously never once does.

That is... genuinely sad. Not sad as in pathetic, just deeply saddening.

And even the few times when civilian Marinette laughs with Chat Noir, I can't remember it ever being at his jokes. It happens when other civilians are bothered by them in the cinema in "Glaciator 2" and in "Elation" when she's having fun at the date in general and later when Adrien tries to be silly while explaining something and then Marinette laughs at Chat being frustrated at himself for not being able to put what he wants to say into words.

But all of these cases are not her laughing at his jokes the way she literally said she knows makes him happy. So she's still not doing it.

Wait, no. When Marichat get the ice cream in "Elation". At least thats a moment where Marinette actively laughs at a joke Chat made. Although, she revealed in "Hack-San" that she would do so, too, even if she didn't think it's funny at all and that unfortunately does leave a very sour taste in my mouth:

Person B being the only one who genuinely laughs at person A's jokes is such a popular trope for a reason and it stings knowing that even that doesn't truly apply here.

The trope was ironically recycled into Adrien thinking Marinette's behavior is funny which he then in season 5 got shamed for by the narrative when he then found out that he was laughing at her trauma responses and he beats himself up for it (what a weird writing decision, honestly)

But Marinette as Ladybug for some reason just continued to be written to not laugh to make Chat Noir happy (even when she was oh so in love with him in the beginning of season 5) and that puts the genuineness of the rare times she does into question bc Marinette is apparently just willing to fake it every blue moon.

But I guess, credit where credit is due. She did indeed do the thing she said she knows makes Chat Noir happy ONE TIME in 52 episodes. Only as civilian, though. And mind you, she left the next episode and previously said that her laughing doesn't mean she actually thinks he's funny.

But one questionable time is better than non, right ?

[fountainpenguin]

Riddle watches New Wish - Post #4

... Angela has orange eyes. Interesting... It's a good thing that 8 years ago, I didn't set up my entire magical society to be obsessed with natural orange features like hair because it's the rarest color in the magical world, ahahaha...

Cosmo hung a picture of himself on their wall.

SHE HAS A CREATURE-HUNTER FOR A DAD? Oh no, oh no, oh no... Someone call Doombringer, Crocker, and Ed Leadly- They've got a new friend!

He didn't react to Cosmo and Wanda describing the features Crocker always names as fairy traits (wands, wings, floating crowns), so he probably doesn't know Crocker.

She's so cute...

Okay, I love that Cosmo and Wanda walk backwards while bouncing. They are still not used to being human.

CRYING, Wanda literally noped out with a farewell of "We probably won't be seeing you much." That is a woman who is not willing to get dragged out of retirement and back into creature-hunting threats. I'm very curious as to how they end up with Hazel.

Hey, Hazel's indoor rug is even cooler than the one in the hall.

POV, you usually would fly across the hall but you don't have your wings out right now.

She vaporized the door, doors are STILL for chumps!!

AND WE GET CEILING LIGHTS? They thought of everything!

... Enrichment Academy? Interesting...

Okay, I love how the building design, the hills, and Hazel's schoolmates still totally belong in FOP style:

Hey, that's the guy from the story bible preview! He's getting the skateboard noises; that's cute.

And baby, we're SO back!

Cosmo and Wanda think they slick:

Hazel introducing herself to the class as "liking french fries" is a mood.

"I have an older brother! He's my best friend. He's visiting today and it will totally make up for the fact that no one laughed at my rock joke." - Girl, you are dying inside.

(He's not gonna show and that's what'll push C and W into taking her in... isn't it?)

Oh, they have swirls on their ears like the OG style! Nice. Also, I love the thin, stretchy arms and tiny legs... This is nice.

Oh no.

Yeah, this kid looks stable. Please tell me he doesn't have orange hair. Haha, I'm in danger.

HE'S DALE'S KID??? Lemonade Dungeon Boy got himself a partner? Mr. Only Shows Up In One Episode unless he's the pixie godkid implied by Da Rules' page about pixies in the Musical but he's probably not, he's just always been my leading theory and it was in Season 2?

Ohhh, boy; writers did their homework. I support him and what I can only assume are well-adjusted social skills. And yay, that gives us a timeline.

If this kid were an animal, I don't think I'd let him eat out of my hand. He's ready for collateral damage.

Hazel has been so nice to everyone, not even outing Cosmo and Wanda to her dad, and she's already ready to yeet this kid into the trash because he's not good enough to recycle.

omg, we're getting introduced to the background characters? Yesssss...

Okay, I'm cracking up at Dev introducing the ASMR guy (Whisper) as "gives me the creeps, but I respect the hustle." I'm intrigued.

Whisper was my alt name for Whistle, so I'm glad I went with the latter!

I am saving every poster I ever see.

Love how we're getting to tour more of the building. We've got stairs! And mailboxes! ... Also, Cosmo and Wanda were not her bubble charms in disguise, but that's definitely where they're going.

I like how Hazel's parents did immediate damage control when she started reacting and made sure she was expressing a healthy response in front of Antony.

I'm obsessed with Hazel. She reminds me so much of Chloe. "Running away! Not in a bad way like on TV, but in a good way! 'cuz it's me and I know what I'm doing!" They would be friends. I wonder if we'll get to see adult Chloe.

omfg, Cosmo and Wanda saw "Child running away" and they're IMMEDIATELY gunning for this child. Sir/Ma'am, please get your minds retuned for this century. Do not steal the child.

SLDKJFSDF compilation of past episodes where Cosmo has gone to space after he says he wants to go to space. Looks like the "Spaced Out" saga AND - and I am shook -

THAT'S "TERRIBLE TWOSOME," Season 9! When he's reading jokes to Poof so he'll stop blocking the sun!

Sir/ma'am, where is your paperwork to take this child?

I'm glad I got a heads up that the writers confirmed the bus driver isn't actually Timmy; I can see how that would be confusing.

Stopping here so I can do a thing with my parents. Will return later!

[hyatoro]

Hello! Firstly, i LOVE your writing! It's so nice to read and it's very enjoyable. This is also my first ask with you. Unfortunately I am not too sure whether this counts as an outline or a headcannon (from my understanding headcannons are about the character itself and outlines are more like headcannons for the scenario but im not sure??? maybe this is a outline???). No worries if you don't to of course!

Anyway, may I have an NSFW about Hwang Minso spending his heat with reader? Especially if it's just really sweet and fluffy in a way. I think he deserves the tenderness, y'know? Bonus if the affection is like a warm blast of sunshine on a dreary day. (I imagine, Alpha reader is being sweet and fluffy and just really gentle but the unwavering attention and tenderness is overwhelming for the guy and so sweet it burns in a way. I want the guy to be overwhelmed by it. I imagine he's begging for more and more even if he's overstimulated though reader would stop in a heartbeat if he needed them to)

Again, no pressure!

Headcanons are just fast fun facts with no real timeline in mind. The scenario “outlines” are basically what I’ve been doing where it’s a scenario, but I don’t put in the full effort of making it a fic even if it may seem like one. 

The definitions are loose as hell and I tend to just write what I want. The two reasons why I have the outline distinction is because I don’t need the pressure of cranking out a fully polished work and it also shows who reads my rules. Thank you by the way for asking!

The writing below probably leans more towards full blown fic but the difference is that I would’ve gone into a lot more detail for one instead of an ‘outline’.

Onto the actual content!

Hwang Minsu

The man couldn’t believe he’d gotten this far. It all started with a chance encounter where he met you. The light of his life, and the reason why he evolved from the mindless zombie he was. 

You accepted him into your life. Even after you caught him pulling your empty can out of the recycling. Even when you were initially weirded out, you gave him another chance. 

You’d even asked him out. On a date! And then you asked if he wanted to date you too! 

Honestly he questioned it a bit, scared that it was all some sort of sick joke life was playing on him. But you showed him consistency and proved yourself reliable, not that he had any doubts in you as a person. You were perfect. 

It was amazing, having schedules that were similar. The two of you took to the nights like it was your own kingdom and every night with you was memorable. 

His favorite so far was the time you two went to karaoke. You watched him with adoration, a sight he had to familiarize himself with, as he sang his heart out badly. He knew he wasn’t a great singer and it didn’t faze you one bit. You were just happy that he felt comfortable enough to do so in front of you. 

And when you pulled him into your lap, rewarding him with kisses as you chose your next song, he knew there was no turning back for him. Not when you were all that was ahead. 

Now here he was, opening the door to you. Well, a giant pile of your clothes and blankets hiding your face. But you were behind it all. 

He shuffled out of the way and let you in, catching any garments that fell to the ground behind you. His eyes widened however when you dropped everything unceremoniously to the ground. 

“Just arrange everything how you want it, baby. Let me know if you need help.”

The ugly face he made as he held back tears made you laugh affectionately, stepping towards him to cradle his face gently and kiss his forehead. His face got even more scrunched up as he placed his hands on yours, holding them there. 

Once he got over that surge of emotions he enlisted your help in making his nest, the most elaborate he’d ever made in his life. Considering what had happened when around the time he started to get more intense heats he never really had the guidance nor the chance to go all out. 

You help him arrange everything so that it’s cozy but roomy enough to fit two people. His mattress was on the floor so it made everything easier. 

As he got comfortable you left the apartment and he sat up, panicking a little wondering where you were going. But you quickly returned with a bunch of food, drinks, and other supplies for his heat. His face scrunched again as he pouted, almost telling you that you didn’t have to, but the look on your face stops him. Instead, he opens his arms and you crawl into his nest, kissing his cheeks as you two lay down together. 

He’s content to lay in your arms as you fall asleep, awaiting for the wave to come crashing. He sleeps easily so you’re more than welcome to watch TV or scroll through your phone. All he needed at that moment was your warmth and scent. 

When he wakes up he’s burning and he’s half-expecting you to not be there. For this all to have been some sort of sick dream that his heat-addled mind concocted. But you’re there. As real as ever, and he whines loudly when he buries himself into your neck, grinding on you.

You stir awake easily enough and your mind slowly catches up with the fact that your boyfriend is in heat. When you finally realize what’s happening you get up and immediately get to work. Your hand slides under his baggy t-shirt, caressing his burning skin as he whines even more. When you help him out of it you don’t leave a spot untouched, for which he is grateful for. 

Then you palm him through his pants and he cries out, already begging you for more. To hurry up and get rid of all the clothes on both of you. Ever the kind partner, you oblige.

He’s panting and spread out on the mattress, surrounded by both of your belongings. 

His scent is the strongest it’s ever been and you pounce on him, kissing him senseless as your nose welcomes the pleasant notes of passionfruit. He’s so lovely under your touch, moaning and whining for you, hips constantly bucking up for more. 

Despite how much his body naturally prepared itself you still reach for your supplies, adding more lube to his hole. His eyes practically turn into hearts when he sees you stroking your alpha cock with even more lube. 

His hole fluttered and his cock twitched as he shifted his hips closer to you in an attempt to put you inside. 

Ever merciful, you test him with a few fingers, and he mewls at the way you spread them, feeling how you stretch his pussy like that. But he’s impatient and tells you to please stop teasing him. You’re not, but you can understand where he’s coming from. You mentally note to show him what teasing really feels like another day. 

Thanks every being in existence and every moment in history for how it led to the moment where you finally shove it in. Yeah, he’s dramatic. 

Instantly clings to you. His hands grasp at your back and you’re grateful he keeps his nails short as he scratches your back to fuck him harder. 

He needs the first one hard and fast, he explains. And you listen. Your precious little omega deserves the world during his heat. 

His cries fill the small apartment as he cums quickly, spurting out white ropes in between you. And just as fast as he came he tells you to keep going. You’re still good to go so you keep it up. 

You guys spend the next few hours fucking on every surface in the apartment until you end back up on the mattress, where his legs shake and he’s got cum dripping from both his cock and pussy. When he tries to ask for more, you chuckle and shake your head, telling him that he can barely move and that it’s time for rest. 

You use what’s left of your own energy cleaning him up and changing the heavily soiled sheets to get him comfortable, urging him to sit up to eat and drink before falling back asleep. 

Despite having asked for more, he was more than content, absolutely satisfied on all fronts. His red butt and bruised hips were neat little reminders of the mess you two made.

When you finish cleaning up from that first bout of his heat you rejoin him in the nest, peppering kisses all over his face until he sighs happily into your neck again. Because you were content and calm your scent was too, and it worked wonders in relaxing his muscles as he melted into you. 

He fell back asleep, amazed that he knew you’d be there for him when he woke up again. 

[stargazinglesbian]

Tell me your Punkflower headcanons/takes if you have any!!

OOH ok heacanons lets fucking go!!! (w transfem miles duhh)

i'm gonna do some general spiderband ones too bc i love them all so much

i like writing rlly long dot points, soo

when they first met they initally bonded by talking about their different experiences being spider-man, since that's kind of all miles was comfortable talking about when she first arrived, but eventually she started confiding in everyone about her life outside of it once she got more comfortable. she likes to talk to hobie about her lfie especially, because he's always really honest and makes her laugh by teasing/making stupid jokes

hobie helps miles design her suit when she decides she wants a new one- hobie really likes to listen to miles yap about her art stuff and she loves having someone to bounce ideas off of and they both have a blast with it

hobie is always getting miles new sketchbooks/art supplies!! i think he would definitely be the kind of person to recycle/make his own paper, and once he made miles a whole sketchbook out of it, and it's miles' absolute favourite one. for a while she was too scared to draw in it because she was afraid of ruining it, but then hobie made her two more and told her to stop stressing bc he loves making them

whenever they go on dates they tend to end up unintentionally falling into the same routine/ going to the same spots, but barely even notice until miles is texting gwen about one of their dates one afternoon and shes like 'you literally did this last week lmao'

they like to paint each others nails and surprise each other with what designs theyve done for each other. one afternoon they watched how to train your dragon and accidentally gave eachother dragon themed nails so they unintentionally matched

one afternoon miles' ended up buying a bunch of temporary tattoos and all of the spiderband (which includes margo) had a self care night where they put a bunch of them on, and they all combined forces to give hobie a whole sleeve of fake tatts, and miles and hobie had matching pokemon ones

SPEAKING OF POKEMON miles has a collection of cards, and when she found out hobie did too they both had a massive geek out session and they always talk about the latest games and pokemon together

all of the spiderband kids went to watch isttvg together. hobie and miles' both have the same favourite movie snack- m&ms, and they use that as an excuse to sit next to each other (so they can share) not that anyone would try and stop them from sitting together for no reason other than wanting to, theyre just weird like that (in a good way)

[avocado-writing]

not your fault, but mine

tangerine x single mother!reader (with tangerine being paternal, I know y’all love that)

2.1k words

cw: kidnapping, brief child endangerment, a lot of swears for the wordcount

tag list:  @honestlywtfisgoingon @white-wolf-buckaroo @felhomaly @venusthepirate @lunarpansexual @wanderedaway @georgiee-riviere @mushywutty @piechans @apieceoffabulousshit @4ng3l-0n-34rth @minjaz @starl1g4t @earth-elemental18 @luhvbot​ @underratedboogeyman @july-is-summer @vocalvixen20cp @northerngalxy​ @tangerinesgf @chaoticroaddreamerpasta @rxcently @skrrten @nightmarefeast @lost-lila​ @hardcore-flower @mrsdanieljackson

a/n: thank you to @lady-jane3​ for being my beta! if you enjoy this fic you will probably enjoy this one by @whatstruthgottodowithit​!

Tangerine has been a little bit in love with you since the two of you first met. 

Sometimes it’s pertinent for handlers to be sent on missions with their agents in the field. Insider intel and all that jazz, overseeing what’s going on. When he saw you in the hotel lobby waiting for him and his brother he was smitten with the smart black dress and look of professional interest you wore; but he was fucked when he heard you laugh at one of his jokes. 

It was enchanting. You were enchanting. 

You wriggled your way into his affections without even meaning to. You worked well with them both, and you were easy on the eyes and on the soul. Strong and capable in your own right, too. The job was easy because you were there; and when you all went out to celebrate that night it didn’t hurt that you were so receptive to Tangerine’s advances you’d ended up shagging him by the recycling bins round the back of the pub.  

The fact that you’d exchanged private numbers afterwards was a welcome surprise though. Tangerine isn’t usually the sort of bloke people are interested in having a long term relationship with, so he’d expected it to be a one-and-done sort of night. But then there you were the next week, getting coffee back in London. Like the two of you were civilised people, not involved in the business of murder for hire. 

It became a weekly thing. No more fucking, not yet anyway; just sitting there and chatting. He found himself looking forward to it each Friday. Seeing your smile, hearing your laugh again. It was a few macchiatos later you dropped the bomb. 

“If this is going to be a thing, you’d better know I have a daughter.”

He peered at you from over the ceramic rim of his coffee cup. 

“Right.”

“If it’s a problem, we call it here. She’s the most important thing to me. I like you a lot, Tangerine, but if a single parent is too much for you to handle I need to know now. So you don’t break my heart.”

You were upfront about it and he respected that. Maybe if you were anyone else he’d turn tail and run at that announcement. 

But you weren’t anyone else. You were you. Gorgeous, wonderful you. 

“That’s alright with me.”

The grin you gave him made him know he’d made the right choice. 

Then the moment he’d been bricking it over came. After a few evening dates and a couple of dalliances with you in local hotels, he was introduced to your daughter. She was a shy, quiet girl of six, who hid behind you and peeked out at him from the safety of her mum as a shield. 

“This is my friend Tangerine, love. Are you going to say hello?”

When she shook her head and hid her face in your shirt, Tangerine knew he was in for an uphill battle. But he’d fight it, for you. 

It was like trying to dig a tunnel through an iceberg with a spoon. The process was long and tiring. But he always made sure to be thankful whenever he was invited along to one of your days out with your daughter, to be given a chance to be part of the family. 

Your daughter is cautious. It sounds like you had a nasty breakup with her dad, and you never discuss it much - but your little one has trouble trusting new men because of it, it seems. But as the ice starts to melt around her he finds himself loving her as much as he loves you. 

He knows he can’t buy someone’s affections. But when he shells out an eye-watering amount for a stuffed dinosaur at the Natural History Museum and your daughter beams at him, he thinks it might be alright to cheat a bit. 

She might be quiet, but she’s concise when she speaks; pithy and never using more words than she needs to. Still she has that same intensity many young children do. She reminds him of Lemon, actually, back when they were kids: sincere to a fault, but affectionate in her own way. 

When she first held his hand in a crowd out in public, Tangerine grinned harder than when he heard West Ham got into the FA Cup final (didn’t win though, did they? Fucking Liverpool). Maybe he didn’t sign on to have a kid in his life, but he can’t help but feel incredibly lucky it ended up happening. And sitting with you cozied up on one side of him and your daughter falling asleep on his arm on the other, he’s even more surprised that he’s genuinely happy.

He heads to your house with a bouquet of flowers for you and a toy in garish packaging for your daughter. Oh, he’s going to earn points for this one - she never asked for it outright, but he’s seen the way she lights up whenever the advert comes on the telly. He’s not Lemon, but he’s still smart enough to pick up on these things.

And you’ll be pleased she’s happy, of course. And when you’re pleased it usually leads to him being pleased later that night.

But the blood in Tangerine’s veins freezes when he sees your door is ajar. You don’t leave it open, ever, and he can hear his heartbeat thunder when he nudges it and sees broken glass behind.

He drops the toy, and the flowers burst into petals on the concrete as he runs inside. 

It’s a mess. The coffee table is shattered, furniture has been overturned - and, fuck, there’s blood on the carpet. Signs of a struggle.

He shouts for you at the top of his lungs, for your daughter, sweeping the house and checking anywhere someone could be hiding. He comes up empty. Fuck. Fuck! How could he let this happen? 

Dazed, he heads into your bedroom. Sits on the bed. Fishes his phone out of his pocket, numbly taps your number to dial it. 

He doesn’t hear your phone go in the house. It rings off to voicemail. 

Right. Okay. Right. You must have it with you. That’s something.

Adrenaline surging through his body, he checks to see if your location is turned on. It is. Whatever happened, you made sure to know you could be found.

He stands up, clenches his fist so hard his knuckles turn white, and starts to call Lemon as he leaves.

You wake up to the taste of metal in your mouth. Christ, your head hurts. It’s a sharp ache that reverberates around your skull. Something sticky is running down from your forehead and has gummed your left eye shut, but you look around with your right the best that you can.

Some sort of warehouse. Of course. How original. Things begin to come back to you: the men smashing your door in, the couple you managed to deal with before you were overwhelmed. Your hand still hurts from the punch you delivered to someone’s nose, and you remember the satisfying crunch it made. Oh, god - and your daughter trying to run away but getting caught -

You call her name and you feel a shuffling against your back; you try to move before you realise you’ve been restrained. Hands bound behind you, ankles tied to chair legs. With a groan you crane your neck as far as it will go to take a look.

Your daughter comes to, groggy. You can just about make out her familiar shape in your periphery. If they’ve harmed a single hair on her head, you’re going to set this fucking building alight with every cunt who did this still inside. 

“Love?”

She lets out a little sob of terror. 

“Mum, what happened?”

“I’m not sure, sweetheart. Are you alright? Did they hurt you?”

She takes a moment to answer, her voice shaking.

“I’m… I’m okay, I think.”

You hope she’s telling the truth, and not just lying to seem brave for you. It’s not like you can turn around and check, is it?

Alright, one thing at a time. You test the restraints. No luck, shit. They’re done tight. With multiple zip ties it feels like. It’s a chore to steady your breathing but you manage to do it, and talk yourself through what you remember.

They burst in, attacked you mostly in silence, but they were talking as they choked you out - about what? Focus, focus. 

Oh, fuck. A sentence comes back to you.

‘Let’s see how he likes it when he finds out we have his bird.’

Tangerine. This is all about Tangerine.

You hold back stupid tears. Crying isn’t going to solve anything, is it? But you want to, though. You want to cry over being weak enough to get fucking kidnapped, at being enough of a vulnerability to Tangerine that they’d take you to hurt him, that you got your daughter mixed up in all of this.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The door at the end of the warehouse space swings open. A man crosses over, a balaclava obscuring his face. Despite it all you can’t help but let out a little laugh - how fucking old school, you half expect him to whip out an Anonymous mask.

“Not sure what you’re having a giggle at, love. Seems to me there’s not anything funny about the situation you’re in.”

“Oh, what do you fucking want?” you snap, squaring up the best you can under the circumstances. Keep a brave face for her. The man rolls his eyes. 

“Well, darling, a very nasty man likes to get his end away with you. So we figured you’d be a useful bargaining chip when dealing with him. See, he’s pissed off the wrong person, and they’re interested in making sure he pays dearly for it. And the fact you arrange his little missions means this is a two-for-the-price-of-one deal.”

Your daughter whimpers. You bare your teeth at him.

“I don’t give a fuck what you do for me, but let her go. She didn’t do anything, she’s a child.”

The man rolls his eyes.

“What, so she can go running straight to him to tell him where you are? Don’t think so, sweetheart. No, much better to make sure she’s here. Safe. With us.”

He grins and it makes you feel sick. You open your mouth to lay into him, but a beeping from the walkie-talkie at his belt stops you. He grabs it and turns his back to you. 

“What?”

There’s the unmistakable sound of gunfire on the other end.

“Oh, fuck, they’re -” is as far as the speaker gets, before he’s cut off with a bloody gargle. The man freezes for a moment, but he’s been distracted long enough - you’ve managed to wiggle one foot free from your restraints and you bring it up as hard as you can between his legs. The man screeches in agony and drops to the floor.

You call for your daughter and tell her to work on her bindings. You feel her struggle behind you. She’s small, maybe she’ll be nimble enough to get free…

The man gets back up all too quickly. 

“You bitch,” he spits, and pulls out a knife from around his back. You feel the blood leave you.

Please don’t kill me in front of my daughter.

Any further action he was going to take, however, is somewhat interrupted by the fact a quarter of his head explodes all over you as a bullet flies through it. He looks shocked for a moment before collapsing for the last time.

They’re here. Tangerine and Lemon are dishevelled, covered in blood, and looking worse for wear - but they’re here. Tangerine lowers his gun and runs over to you, dropping to his knees to check you over.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, get her!” you say, motioning back towards your daughter. Tangerine doesn’t need telling twice. He picks up the abandoned knife and starts working on freeing the little girl behind you, as Lemon finishes closing the distance to help you.

You hear your daughter sob in relief and see Tangerine stagger back as she launches herself into his arms.

“Dad!” she cries, burying her little face in his neck. Tangerine doesn’t have an answer to that. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him properly dumbstruck: standing there, covered in blood and holding your child with wide eyes. 

“That’s a lot to unpack,” Lemon mutters with a smile as he finishes letting you go. You stand up and give him a tight hug.

“Am I glad to see your ugly mugs,” you sigh. 

“Oi, easy! If you want to keep kissing this ugly mug,” Tangerine says, and it makes your daughter giggle even if she doesn’t loosen her grip.

A bubble of laughter escapes from your lips. Pure relief. Oh, fuck, this could have been bad. It wasn’t though.

Not when you’ve got your boys around to watch your back.

[1moreoffkeyanthem]

I finally did it yall I made a list of my favorite Cartmanisms bc I do in fact very much enjoy writing his out of pocket ass

“Oh speaking of,” Cartman added, “let’s just sacrifice the Insulin Bitch and the brain damaged hippie to the zaliens so the rest of us can make a run for it.”

Eric was scowling. “Only I’M allowed to make comments about you two gayasses. I say we wipe the floor with those homophobes.”

“I doubt they’ll have a vest in your size, Thumbulimia.”

“Please, I have better things to do than watch the Jew have a Post Traumatic Spider Disorder episode.”

Cartman rolled his eyes, but got up to drop a five in the Fuckwad Jar. “I hate you guys, seriously. Marj, you weren’t even in the room for the Nancy joke.” The lace trim of his robe fluttered as he sat back down, which made Stan laugh again. “What’s so funny, hippie?” There weren’t really words, honestly, but he’d try. “I just… I never want us to change, you know?” “Gay.”

Eric sung a few lines of ‘Jesus Loves The Little Children’ in a creepy horror movie voice and then sprung out from his hiding spot and started blasting on an unsuspecting youth who got too close, chasing him down the field with rarely shown athleticism.

Cartman looked incredibly bored as he clicked the magazine and snapped it back into place. “Well fuck me for being prepared.”

Cartman scoffed. “He’s not doing anything but staring up at you like he’s Sleeping Goddamn Beauty and you just kissed him out of a coma.”

“Awww, looook, you guys! They’re having a gay little hurt/comfort moment again! What, you gonna kiss it better, Kahl?”

Cartman just rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “What the hell ever, Jimothy. Go stutter about it to someone else.”

“Okay, fucking first of all,” Kyle shot a glare at Cartman, “no one’s getting sacrificed. Literally, that’s not goddamn happening. AND we’re keeping this discussion CIVIL. It’s five in the morning and nobody’s slept very much. There’s not a single guy here who’s actually thinking straight.” “That would be because half of you are gay as balls.”

“Once again, I’m moving that we leave the hippie behind.” “Cartman, remind me to kick your ass when we’re out of here.” “Good luck on that if you fucking faint like one of those stupid goats again.”

Cartman was out of bullets, but he’d taken out a good chunk of the extraterrestrial undead. “Holy shit, Kahl, you better not die on us. Cockroach, remember? You’re a damn cockroach.”

“Aight, so anyway, what’s JewBot up to?” “Still at work. He’ll be home later. We’re gonna go out to dinner with the Tuckers.” “I didn’t ask for your life’s story, buttplug,”

“Oh JESUS CHRIST!!” Oh, great. Cartman had emerged from his cave. “Did I just walk into a stairwell orgy?”

“Fuck you, Kahl. Your recycled dildo and his weirdo wingman pulled me out of a Klance slowburn.” “WHO the FUCK is reading Voltron fanfiction in 2023?!” “Some of us are dedicated.”

Eric paused his self imposed quest to rob every taco truck in GTA and set aside his controller. “Hellllll no. The vampires don’t get my blood without paying me for it.”

“Geez, pack it up, Fiddler On The Roof.”

“Fatass, if he dies in a car accident because YOU made him freak, I WILL kill you.” “Good luck doing that with one leg and a fever, fleshlight.” But his voice softened. “Just try to chill out until he gets home, Kahl. Then you can be a terrible patient for someone who actually likes you.”

“Yeah, hippie. I wasn’t going to deal with you if something happened to your burning bush.”

A certain abrasive fuckwad leaned casually against the wall. “Oh, the Bubonic Jew didn’t tell you yet? I said he fell on the stairs, didn’t I? He just hurt his knee again, what else is new.” Stan made a noise of surprise and Cartman pointed his beef jerky at him. “By the way, I really don’t get why you get so stoked about lugging him around. He’s difficult.”

Cartman scurried off to inspect a leaf. “Woah, you guys! I think I just, like, discovered empathy!” “You’re looking at a plant.” “Plants have feelings too, Khal! Look at your photosynthesizing dildo back there!”

“Like he needs an excuse to get on his high horse about shit.” “I’ll kick your fat ass,” Kyle warned. “Good luck, tinkerbell.”

Cartman had planted himself into the passenger seat, munching away at that bag of funyuns. He glanced back. “What’s the ‘sitch, Ken-Possible?”

“Because, you pussy,” Cartman said with a false saccharine smile, “you have the biggest TikTok following from your gayass little songs.

“Yep.” Cartman said through a mouthful of eggs. “Plus, Clyde has an affair going with the town vet, Butters is a total twink, and Stanny boy has a boner for the Jew.”

Oh dear god. Cartman was NOT about to babysit the argumentative dickhole while the housekeeper worked. As much fun as he was to fight with, Kyle was a fierce opponent, and Cartman wasn’t really in the mood. He’d had a weird night. The cats had been on edge.

Oh, of goddamn course. The OTHER buttplug. It wasn’t a secret. Well, technically it was, because no one talked about it, but anyone with eyeballs could see that Stan and Kyle had a gayass little private relationship going on behind Craig’s back. Good for them, or whatever, but if the Spider ever got proof…

Cartman just rolled his eyes. “Scott, you glucose gobbling ass bitch, I’ve literally butchered two people. I know the human body, okay?”

“The fuck.” Cartman’s eyes widened. “Every single one of you dildos had better be praying that there’s no internal bleeding.”

Cartman put his hands up. “Gahdamn, you guys. Just trying to lighten the mood in this hot air balloon to Hell.”

“Ay! Hippie! The Jew had to stay for basketball so I’m here with your buttfucking homework-“

Cartman definitely wanted to rip on him for wallowing in his own sadness, but the sooner he got this loser to be a person again, the better. “No shit, asshole. Your fucking fleshlight is even more intolerable without you to hold him back. You need to come back to school.”

“Also, I’m telling your little prince of Egypt that he can come over. It’s not like he’s gonna catch your Sad Bitch Disease.”

Cartman strolled around the corner, now wearing his frilly ‘widow whose husband died under mysterious circumstances’ robe.

[one-winged-dreams]

Birthday Habit

ship: adri x jacob corbett (my house is your house) source: original content word count: 1211

I MEANT TO FINISH THIS YESTERDAY BUT I GOT TOO DEPRESSED AAAAA happy 48th, Jacob, I love you ;_;

Anyway, I had to throw some sprinkles of personal issues in there ya know

tag list: @dearly-beeloved @adoredbyalatus @kylars-princess @dorothys-wife @the-sleeping-city

@dear-gambler @goldenworldsabound @sunstar-of-the-north @mahitosoulmate @faerie-circle-ships

Jacob wouldn't call himself a smoker, necessarily. Anita had always been the more… HEDONISTIC of the two, and it was she who had turned him onto nicotine.

He only smoked on special occasions, his birthday included.

The morning had been… eventful. So eventful that Adri was currently in the shower.

He'd all but moved all of his bath products into JACOB'S bathroom now.

Jacob mused over this fact as he took a drag, sitting out on a bench in the backyard, he took in the morning air, the balmy heat of summer fast approaching. It was pleasant, though. He'd always enjoyed the summer.

Another drag made another thought cross his mind.

Dave had asked if the U-Haul joke applied to men as well, and he hadn't really had an answer for that. The circumstances were different in so far as they had met BECAUSE Adri had needed a place to stay while he got back on his feet. All of… This. Was unexpected.

He didn't think he minded. It had all been a very pleasant turn of events. They were both still easing into it, but so far it seemed… promising.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he hadn't heard the sliding door open.

"I didn't take you as a smoker," Adri's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. The question didn't come off as judgmental, only curious.

Jacob offered a sheepish smile, gesturing with the cigarette.

"Just a guilty pleasure. Only for special occasions." He patted the bench next to him invitingly, and Adri took his cue eagerly.

"That's fair," Adri replied, making his way over, secretly grateful the smoke was blowing in the opposite direction.

"Figured I'd treat myself on my birthday, you know?" Jacob chuckled. "And yes, I send 'em off to recycling. Don't knock any points off my eco-friendly meter, now."

"Well. I can't tell you what to do, but special occasions only sounds fine to me," Adri hummed, leaning into Jacob's side. He was quickly rewarded by a strong, burly arm wrapped around his shoulders. Pausing for a minute, a shy smile found its way to his face. "And… not a little attractive, maybe?"

Jacob arched an eyebrow at this, a charming smirk crossing his features.

"Oh? Is my little habit a turn-on, then? I'll keep that in mind."

Adri giggled in response.

"Like I said, OCASSIONALLY, maybe?"

Laughing, Jacob gave Adri's shoulder a shake, pulling him into his side.

"Ahhh, I'm kidding, bunny. Just today since it's my birthday," he teased. Finished, he extinguished the cigarette into the ashtray he had brought out with him, setting it to the side and sitting back to take in the sight of all the flowers and plants lining the fence.

"So… any plans for today?" Adri broke the silence after a moment.

Jacob made a thoughtful expression before replying.

"Nothing much. Lucy and Anita are probably gonna give me a call, but… I think I'd like to do something low-key with this cutie right here," he chuckled, rubbing up and down Adri's arm. "Maybe dinner later and hopefully some more of whatever we got up to this morning."

Adri blushed, chuckling shyly.

"Uhm. Definitely some of that later, I promise," he said, flustered, but unable to keep a smile off of his face. "I had something in mind, but if you'd rather we just stay at home, that's fine too."

"Oh?" Jacob seemed intrigued. "You didn't have to go and think of anything, bunny. But if you've got something in mind, by all means."

Adri was quiet for a moment, and for a few beats, Jacob seemed concerned.

"Uhm. There's this cafe that's… really special to me. I told you I don't really… enjoy birthdays all that much, but… I want to enjoy yours with you. So…" Adri trailed off.

"Aw, sweetheart." Jacob's expression softened. "You told me. If birthdays freak you out then we can just-"

Adri shook his head, a faint blush tinging his cheeks.

"N-No! No, really. I want to. This cafe was REALLY special to me once and I…" He took a deep breath. "I want to go back. With someone special. And since it's your birthday…"

"Ahhhh, I see," Jacob chuckled good-naturedly. "Well I'm honored, sweetheart. If this place is so special to you, the fact that you want to share it with me just warms my heart."

Adri nodded, looking down at the ground and unable to realize he was being pulled into a hug until he was practically in Jacob's lap. Stammering wordlessly, he looked up at Jacob with a flushed and bewildered expression as Jacob flashed him another one of those charming grins.

"I'm proud of you for taking this step forward, bunny. We'll get you settled back into this whole socializing thing yet. But for now, your openness is the best birthday present I could ask for," Jacob hummed affectionately before smirking playfully. "On top of being your 'special someone,' that is."

The direct quote of Adri's unintentional show of how much Jacob really meant to him made his face burn. He could only imagine how darkly he was blushing based on the expression on Jacob's face.

At Adri's lack of verbal response, Jacob laughed, reaching up to ruffle his hair.

"Alright, alright. Enough embarrassing you, what do you say we get the day started?" He released Adri from his lap, standing up and offering his hand.

Taking it, Adri stood and smiled shyly.

"Well if we're going out… Did you have any other ideas?"

Jacob chuckled again, seemingly appraising Adri for a moment.

"I guess you could say that. Hey, in all my ignorance of alternative subcultures, bear with an old man for a second?"

That was a curious request. Adri's head tilted off to the side, contemplating where this was going.

"Uhm, of course."

Jacob paused, blatantly taking in Adri's appearance yet again, but to what end remained to be seen.

"Keeping the weather in mind, because I know how hard it is for you out in this heat what with your meds on top of all that black," Jacob started with a chuckle before his gaze softened. "Wear your favorite outfit for me?"

That was… a direction.

"Any… reason?" Adri asked curiously. It wasn't a PARTICULARLY odd request. "Even if it involves platforms?"

Jacob outright laughed at that.

"Yes, even if it involves platforms. Though, you're still hopelessly shorter than me, bunny," he commented playfully, making Adri blush before he continued. "But no, seriously. I want to see how you like to express yourself. Go all out for me, not just shorts and band shirts this time."

The thoughtfulness of the request wasn't surprising. But it still caught Adri off guard all the same.

"Are you sure…?" he questioned cautiously. "I can put together my favorite summer fit if you really want, but…"

"How about this," Jacob hummed, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "What if I told you… that there was a record shop I think you'd like? Might as well go do something fun on my birthday, right? Who knows, maybe I'll score a good album today."

This caught Adri's attention, making him blink a few times in consideration.

"That… sounds fun. What's it called? Maybe I've been there before."

"It's S-"

[kimbap-r0ll]

Hey! I hope you’re doing well, mentally and physically. I know classes started back up now. Don’t forget to eat and drink water.

I’m not sure how this can be set up but u can do with the idea how you like. But a First date? Scenerio or something Or like first kiss after the second/third date thing? With Feitan. If you don’t mind could u make the s/o Tall tall? Sorry for any typos💜

Hi, I'm doing better but still under some stress ;-;. Here's a scenario, thank you for the ask!

Feitan x tall!reader: First kiss

Feitan started to date you after you worked your courage to ask him. Of course, at first he blatantly said no, but this was because he was afraid you would get hurt when around him. You were from Meteor City, so while you could stay in the city's boundaries forever, the mafia could still come and attack. Feitan didn't want to lose anymore people, especially one that could be his potential love. However, you were able to prove to him that you could fend off yourself and that you really meant it when you said "I love you" to him. So, that was how the relationship started.

He was visiting one day after a major troupe mission. He was back with Phinks and Shalnark, who returned to sort out some negotiations between elders and the troupe. Chrollo wanted to come back, but he was too busy raiding a mafia building. Feitan was left out of the negotiations because the last time he was there he kicked one of the elders off of the stairs. So he decided to spend some time with you instead.

"Welcome back!" You said, hugging him. It looked a little funny in his opinion because you almost picked him up. The difference in your heights was...immense. Feitan felt as though he was almost half your height and it didn't help that you were completely ignorant to how funny it looked when you lifted him from the ground. Phinks laughed a little too hard once and almost got stabbed. Nonetheless Feitan was quite happy to be back and to see you smile. He would never tell you this in person, but his quiet nod and pat on the back was enough for you to understand.

"What did you want to do? I left the entire day free so I don't have to work at the recycling facility today," you told him, walking over to the makeshift kitchen you had in your apartment. The building was dilapidated, but one of the sturdiest ones in Meteor City with more than five stories.

"No plans, just visiting," Feitan responded. He sat down on a couch you had stolen from the junkyard and lowered his bandana, another thing he refused to do in public.

"Ah, ok, well we can visit the market. I need to buy some stuff for this week anyways, the carrot's are all rotten," you pointed out. There was no official grocery store in Meteor City, but the forest nearby along with the growing agricultural sector in the city helped keep people's stomachs full to some extent. You would barter your way for fresh produce, usually selling some valuable you found at one of the junk piles.

"Sure," Feitan shrugged.

"Is that a date?" you joked. The two of you never officially went on a date before, mainly hanging around your place or his. Feitan paused at that comment.

"Sure," once again he shrugged and lifted his bandana back up.

The marketplace wasn't as busy, likely because it was still around noon and most people came out to buy items at around 3pm. You were looking through some fruits (mainly because he once said he liked strawberries) while Feitan was struggling to reach for a high-stand item. You went to go help and of course he pouted about how it made him feel like you were making fun of his height.

"It wasn't my fault that you just happen to be shorter than me," you replied. He didn't say anything back, he just buried his face more into his bandana and huffed.

Sometimes Feitan wished he could be in a peaceful life with you. Just doing simple tasks like buying groceries or the two of you reading art books together. He was lost in his thoughts for a while until you tapped him on the head (which also got you an annoyed glance) and told him the two of you can head back.

At your home you tried your best at making something fancy with what you had. The best you could do was a fancy looking salad, with some fruits added for the flair. You two caught up on each others' lives, with you finding out about the eighth member of the troupe being killed by a Zoldyck.

"Sometimes, I worry that you might...I don't know, get hurt," you said, holding your cup of tea a little tighter.

"Why? I'm stronger than you, worry for yourself," Feitan retorted, stabbing a strawberry hard with his fork.

"I know," you laughed, you looked at him while he tried his best to avoid eye contact. He was still a bit shy, still the same as ever.

By the time you two were done with food and discussing which art book to read next, Feitan was called by Shalnark to come back for a drink with the rest of the troupe who made it to the city. He said that he would come back tomorrow, likely bringing something he stole with him this time.

"Yeah, I'll just be where I always am," you smiled. You followed him to the doorway, about to wave him goodbye until you had an idea.

"Fei, I was wondering...we've never really kissed before, right?"

He stopped, halfway out the door and slowly turning his head to you. He had a feeling of what you were planning to do next. Should he ask for a kiss? Sure, he did want to kiss you at some point, but what if he was weird for that? Is he weird?

"No, we haven't," he responded, turning his head away from you again. But you took his arm and made him face you.

"Do you want to?" you asked, your eyes connecting with his for a millisecond before he turned to look at the fading wallpaper.

"...sure," he sighed. He didn't expect you to actually kiss him but the next thing he knew he felt your soft lips on his.

"Hey, Feitan what took you so long?" Uvogin asked as Feitan entered the bar. He looked dazed, a little out of it but overall alright.

"Did something happen? With y/n?" Shalnark pointed at Feitan, and everyone now could see the slight tint of red on his cheeks. Feitan glared at them and didn't say a word.

"No, it's fine," he said, sliding into a seat next to Machi.

He wasn't going to tell them that you slightly lifted him up again, an endearing act but also a very, very embarrassing one. Feitan wanted to kiss you longer, maybe many more times. But for now, the first kiss was enough to send his heart racing.

[unofficial-book-of-quotes-tm]

Series 7 is done! My final thoughts as always under the keep reading.

Now, I'm going to level with you here. Series 7 has never been a favourite of mine, in fact, I used to dislike it a lot, so I put rewatching it for this blog off for quite some time. I actually can't recall how many times I've watched each series of Taskmaster at this point, but series 7 always kind of annoyed me, therefore I didn't particularly look forward to watching it. Now, let me tell you how surprised I was that I found it a lot of fun on this rewatch. I mean, it's still not in my top five, but I had a lot more fun with it than I expected to have and I'm not entirely sure why. For me, Rhod Gilbert and Kerry Godliman carried the show, and they were the contestants I enjoyed most when watching series 7.

I think Kerry is probably the perfect Taskmaster contestant. She's incredibly competitive and wants to win at all cost, but she also accepts Greg's ruling (with a little push back sometimes), doesn't throw a fucking tantrum whenever she feels treated unfairly, and doesn't overstep the line into annoying the shit out of me. And I have to agree with Greg here, her approach was rather simple most of the time (get the task, do the task, bosh) but I think that has a lot of charm, especially when contrasted with some of the overthinkers. Series 7 is one of those series where I don't care at all about Greg's scoring thus I don't mind Kerry winning the series by one point or what it was.

Now, Rhod. I honestly think he took the gig mainly to embarrass / annoy Greg, though his mission then seemed to change to either getting Alex to strip at every opportunity or to tying him up. There is something to be said about these two things and I don't know if it was a conscious decision of Rhod’s, but I’m absolutely here for it and refuse to analyse it closer.

Jessica Knappett is a bit of a wild card for me ‘cos there are moments when she's utterly hilarious and she made me laugh out loud a couple of times, but that was usually accidental on her part, though there are also a fair few moments when I despaired watching her. Overall, I did enjoy her.

I think similarly about Phil Wang, though I do have to say, what the fuck had he been thinking when picking his outfit?! I won’t complain about Phil repeating his haggling joke, just as I won't complain about Rhod basically recycling his prize task entry over and over again. I thought it was funny.

Now, on to my probably most controversial take yet; I don't like James Acaster. Before I get stoned to death, I'd like to say that I don't know a lot of the guy. I've seen him like once on The Big Fat Quiz Of The Year, but I haven't watched his stand-up or listened to his podcast(s), etc, though to be fair I don't do that in general for any competitor. I just found him too… bratty (if that's the word) or too confrontational. Yes, him butting heads with Rhod is entertaining, but I think he lacked what I really appreciate about older comedians; The understanding of when to move on / let others have the joke. I know there are several ways of watching Taskmaster and everyone finds other contestants funnier or other bits of the show more important and that's all totally valid. I'm just some bloke on the internet, don’t let me tell you how you should watch / enjoy something, but personally, I find contestants who constantly seek Greg's approval and praise a bit irritating. I'm certain James is a lovely guy, but his comedy persona unfortunately doesn't work for me.

However, James’ persona allowed for really entertaining clashes with Rhod, which made the boys team a bit more fun to watch than the girls team, simply because they had conflict. But it was also nice to have a team be wholesome and just get shit done.

The prerecorded tasks in series 7 were amazing, but I do think they could've done better on the studio tasks. Some could've done with a little polish. But there were so many tasks, which I think I really would've enjoyed having a go at, chief amongst them the video game task and those where they had to figure something out guided by clues.

I don’t have to say much about Greg and Alex, only that after series 6, their interactions seemed to have cooled down in this series, but fortunately Rhod delivered. Watching Rhod watch Greg and Alex interact is fucking hilarious. That man looks like he knows something we don’t (I have no evidence to support any such claim). So, yeah, overall I enjoyed series 7 more than I expected I would, but it will never be a favourite of mine. Can’t wait to get to series 8 as I barely remember anything at all about this one. Thanks for sticking around! See you in series 8!

[weather-cluddy]

The idea that Mikoto must've murdered a lot of people because he seems so calm and practiced frankly confuses me. His actual level of skill in not getting caught was around the level of Muu's, who was literally not even trying. Possibly worse, to be honest.

For starters, train station with the trains still running is a pretty terrible place to commit a crime. People have to commute home, so it's one of the few places that will draw people even late-ish at night. Not only that, but they have surveilance cameras, some of which broadcast online 24/7, which is kind of a strong demerit when you're looking for a place to kill somebody.

He also didn't do anything to hide his identity, like wearing a mask or using gloves to avoid leaving fingerprints. His hair is pretty distinctive and the beanie doesn't hide it at all. (Contrast with Kotoko hiding her face, wearing men's shoes and confronting her victim in a side alley. So these things were most likely on the writer's mind.)

Speaking of the beanie, his evidence disposal is terrible. He dumped the corpse right next to a sign saying "This is private property! Do NOT dump your trash here! We will report you!", the only thing hiding it being a flimsy plastic bag that will very likely start leaking during the several days it'll take for it be collected. It's also very likely to be opened up so the garbage collectors can know what kind of trash this unlabelled, opaque bag is supposed to have. After all, proper trash sorting and recycling is a pretty big deal in Japan.

He then threw a beanie stained with blood right next to the bag which, besides being obviously suspicious as soon as somebody notices the corpses, provides DNA samples to the police. The blood proves it's related to the blonde guy, and any hairs inside links Mikoto to it. Even without any testing, just looking at them you can narrow the search to "people living in roughly this area who have half-brown and half-bleached hair". Mikoto walked home, after all. The murder scene can't be that far.

(Speaking of which, let me repeat that Mikoto walked home. Covered in blood. Which throwing away the beanie did nothing to fix, because his other clothes and his face were also bloodstained. So not only did he not have any contingencies for dealing with blood splatter, his belated attempts at fixing it only made things worse. He didn't even wipe his face before throwing the hat away!)

And if you try to include the bathtub scenes and the repetition of the train scene as evidence of multiple murders, then you have to add:

1.He killed almost a dozen people without getting caught first. A bath takes around a hundred liters of water, an average adult has around 5 liters in them, so if we assume half of the liquid in the tub is actually water then we need 50 liters. That's ten people, but it also requires we assume that he had some sort of pump that would drain every last drop of blood from their bodies. We must also at least somewhat discount the blond guy we actually see Mikoto kill, because clearly that murder wasn't very conducive to getting all five liters into a bucket.

More importantly, every murder had to be done in a very short time frame in order to avoid the issue of blood clotting, or else he had some sort of holding facility with refrigeration and anticoagulants that would preserve the blood. All for the purpose of, uhh, living out his Elizabeth Bathory kin fantasies?

2. He did all this while attacking people in the same place, with the same weapon, with the same clothes, at the same time of the day, under weather so incredibly identical that even the cloud shapes are the same. Talk about establishing a pattern.

You could point at his dettached attitude and claim it shows he's done it before, but honestly? He's far from the only prisoner to have the "wrong" reaction to their murder. For example, Haruka laughing as he murders animals. Or Amane indifferently standing over her mother's corpse. Or Mahiru joking about her boyfriend's suicide and saying Es might be next. Should we assume they're also expert murderers?

Really, the whole sequence makes much more sense if you assume each step got maybe three seconds of thinking each, instead of hours of careful planning. I can definitely see something like:

Something happens that convinces Mikoto that this guy must die RIGHT NOW. He grabs the first weapon-ish thing he sees and rushes to where he knows/assumes the guys would be at this hour.

Alright, he's dead! ...Wait, shit, the corpse!

Um, uuh, the stuff you don't want goes in the trash, right?

After wandering for God knows how long in search of one of Japan's infamously scarce trash cans, he finally finds somewhere the body will fit. By this point he's either too panicked to consciously notice the sign, or he's deep into the sunk cost fallacy and doesn't let it dissuade him.

Agh, he's got blood on his clothes. Well, taking off his pants isn't gonna help him looks less suspicious, but he can throw away the hat, right? Less blood = better!

Alright, job done, time to go home!