#shovelling with optimism

[badfluffycat]

[scopostims]

karl heisenberg (resident evil 8) stimboard for Me :•]

[ID: A 3x3 stimboard of 9 GIFs that are all dark and desatured red-orange.

GIF 1: A closeup of a shovel digging a hole.

GIF 2: A video game rendering of an industrial fan spinning behind a bloodied grate.

GIF 3: First person POV of walking into an abandoned factory and looking up at abandoned machinery.

GIF 4: A system of wheels and belts connecting them turning in tandem.

GIF 5 (center): Karl Heisenberg leaning down and talking into the player's face, gritting his teeth.

GIF 6: A closeup of a magnet being slowly lowered to a tray of ferrofluid that spikes up to reach it.

GIF 7: A panning shot taken behind a pile of tires of a car wheel spinning.

GIF 8: A gloved hand tightening a wing nut on a piece of metal.

GIF 9: A rusted metal tank being crushed in an industrial shredder.

End ID]

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

“Digging Your Own Grave” - Dean x Reader

“Digging Your Own Grave” - Dean x Reader

Rating Teen

Dean x Reader

Tags: Humor, Grumpy Dean, Adult Language, Fluff, Kissing, Reader Insert for “Optimism” Episode 14.6

Word Count: 1,000

Dean’s ego is wounded because of Jack calling him an old man. You aren’t doing anything to help Dean feel better.

I'm participating in @jacklesversebingo and this part will fill my dialogue, "Did you just kiss me to shut me up?" “Nooo?” square.

Big thanks to @zepskies for the chat and prompt that helped me rattle this little drabble out.

You’d scoped out the library for Dean and Jack a couple hours ago. Harper Sayles had a smile that took up half her face in greeting. You filled out an application for a library card with your fake Nebraska license in order to get some intel on this bad luck charm of a librarian. 

Now, you’re waiting in Dick’s Red Rooster Diner while Jack swoops into the library to “save” Harper from the big bad FBI man that is Dean Winchester. To pass the time, you sip on a raspberry iced tea and relish a cinnamon roll while flipping through a spicy Nora Robert’s novel you also checked out. You’ll pop it into the drop slot tonight. You don’t need the specter of an overdue library book haunting your 2 am thoughts for years to come.

With the book fanned out in front of your face, you don’t notice Dean sat across from you until he clears his throat.

He looks miserable.

Totally fuckable but miserable.

“What happened? You peek out the picture window. “Where’s Jack?”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Playing hero like we planned.” He grabs the cinnamon roll off your plate and stuffs half of it into his mouth and chews in deliberate, deep-in-thought, slow motion.

You frown at the sad state of affairs that is your significant other and also at the loss of your treat. “That’s good. He wanted to help on a case and he’s doing his bit.” You wait a beat. “Right?”

Dean swallows, then washes it down with some of your iced tea. “He called me an old man.”

Your hand holding the book flops to the tabletop with a thud that rattles the silverware.

You stare at him while he stares back at you with those apple green eyes.

He waits with those crow’s feet you love to trace with the tip of your finger when he sleeps. With etchings of furrowed forehead from years of contemplation and worry. With those perfect lips that aren’t quite as pouty as they used to be. With that one gray hair poking out atop his head of spiked strands.

“What’s funny about that?” Dean asks in irritation.

You realize too late that you’ve been grinning.

“Dean, he was probably just acting… you know, pointing out the obvious age…” You clamp your lips shut.

Dean’s eyes widen and he straightens in the chair.

“I mean, it’s Jack. He’s still learning the nuances of language.” You try and salvage what you can.

His brows quirk up. “He’s not the only one.”

You’re about to fire something back when Dean’s attention shoots to the window. You follow his lead. Jack and Harper are on the sidewalk outside the library. There’s another man talking to them before they part ways.

“Son of a bitch did it,” Dean mutters. “I’ll follow them.” He stands. “You,” he points at the linoleum by your feet, “Stay here.”

“Dean…”

“I don’t need a walker or a chaperone. And I don’t want to have to worry about you getting in trouble. If I need you, I’ll press my Life Alert button.”

“Be careful.”

He nods and manages a sort of smile.

~~~

You have stayed quiet since Dean called you to drive Baby to the back alley behind the library. Vance’s body was stuffed in the trunk by Dean, even though Jack offered to help. Vance’s body was pulled out of the trunk by Dean, even though Jack offered to help, and carried to the open grave by Dean.

Dean tossed Jack a proverbial bone with the shovel when Vance was safe and sound, coffin lid creaking shut. “Dig.”

Jack was downright giddy to shovel piles of graveyard dirt over what would now be Vance’s, hopefully, final resting place. The stake through the heart should ensure Harper’s zombie boyfriend stays good and buried.

You haven’t lifted a finger in the cemetery. Mainly because Dean hasn’t let you. You’ve kept careful watch over Jack and Dean and surveyed the surrounding pitch black for any danger. Harper Sayles sailed away and you don’t want any happy returns.

You should feel more at ease with Dean joining you by Baby’s trunk. But you can sense he’s still prickly. He’s breathing deeply in and out through his nose. He’s trying to hide the exhaustion and exertion of the entire ordeal. 

He stands next to you, shoulder to shoulder. He’s got your six, staring behind you as you survey Jack’s shoveling form in front of you in the lantern light. He’s chucking and tossing dirt in hyperdrive mode.

“Jack,” you whisper yell and his head whips in your direction, his bangs following a second later. “Bend at the knees.”

He nods and smiles, offering a thumbs up before taking your suggestion and getting back to work.

“Kid doesn’t need to worry about his joints. He’s not an old man.” Dean’s comment drips with sarcasm.

“Never too early to learn proper form.” You counter and look up to side-eye Dean. He stares down at you briefly, his mouth quirks up in a grin that lightens your heart.

It’s quiet except for crickets and the cyclical sounds of Jack’s shovel slicing into soft earth and the subsequent spatter atop the coffin lid.

You muster the courage to speak. “Dean, you’re not old. I mean if you’re old, then that means I’m old. And I am in no way, shape or form ready to admit that.”

Dean hums to let you know he’s listening.

“If anything you’re just older, you know. A seasoned hunter. Someone that Jack looks up to. Wants to emulate. Because of how much you know. How much good you’ve done. And, besides, you know what they say. With age comes…”

Your words are cut off by Dean’s lips, pressing with force against your open mouth. You moan at how warm he feels even with the chill in the air. He breaks off sooner than you’d like. He’s smiling, guarding your back at your side.

You feel your brows scrunch together. “Did you just kiss me to shut me up?”

He tilts his head, not looking at you, only offering his achingly beautiful profile. “Nooo?”

You chuckle. “Way to sound convincing. Then why?”

He shrugs. “You should be kissed, and often, and by someone who knows how.” He lifts a brow and glances at you. “And that, my dear, only comes from experience.”

[treedaddymcpuffpuff]

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter Map Twenty-Nine

TW: violence and harassment against women, police brutality, nsfw, pda

The week goes on, with no official news from the LAPD about your break in. Tom assures you it’s no great surprise. He’s running his own inquiries, and if you’ve lost your faith in the system, you believe in him. You clean up your apartment a little bit, and find a little optimism in the fact that this hotel room actually has bigger windows for your plants. 

Tom babies them, handling the delicate stems tenderly, watching and mimicking the soft way you arrange their leaves, carrying the pots as gently as he carries you. He catches you watching this with abject fascination and admiration, and grins as you look away, flushing, caught in the act of falling more in love with him. 

Needless to say, you are surprised when Tom asks you to go to a party on Friday. He’s laying on your tummy, using it as a pillow while you both giggle at a funny movie and mindlessly shove chocolate and popcorn into your faces. 

“It’s for my boss to meet you,” he says, “for the case.” 

“What do you mean?” you ask, not quite understanding. 

“Sometimes…we get jaded as cops. We shovel a lot of shit. But putting a face to a problem…it helps it get solved, sometimes.”

“Oh. Ok.” You understand all too well, how you start to guard yourself when you work an emotionally taxing job involving people at their worst, their most vulnerable. It does all start to run together, after a while. Maybe it shouldn’t, but it’s the human brain’s way of defending itself from the overload. 

“I think…” he goes on, playing with your hair. “It might help, if he sees what you mean to me. You’re the only girl I’ve been serious about, since…my wife.” 

You close your eyes at hearing that, as if you weren’t already head over heels enough for this man. All the love you feel for him stews with guilt for the thing you’re going to have to do on Saturday, and you can’t stop the welling of tears in the corners of your eyes. “Ok,” you agree again, somehow speaking past the lump in your throat. “We gotta put on a show or something?” 

Tom grins wickedly down at you, his light touch making its way down to trace the neckline of your shirt. It soothes you, somehow, makes the gnawing demon inside quiet down, even if just for a little while. It’s going to be ok, you tell yourself, even if deep down you know you’re lying.

“Nah, baby. All we gotta do is show up. The rest is obvious.” You take his paw of a hand, kissing his palm before holding it over your heart. 

It’s going to be ok, you tell yourself again. You’re going to get through this shitstorm, and then the two of you are going to live happily ever after…

You tell yourself this, because if you don’t, you’re going to start crying again and you’re not going to stop until they sedate you in an institution. 

***

Your first thought, when you snake up the winding mountain road to Captain Wander’s aerie of a hillside mansion looking out over the glittering lights of L.A., is ‘Goddam, do cops really make this kind of money?’ 

You know he’s management and all but Jesus Christ, you thought only movie stars and drug dealers could afford to live up here in the Hollywood Hills. 

The place is bumping, and a line of cars are parked outside, clogging the narrow road. The parking style looks amusingly familiar–you suppose Tom is not the only LEO who just puts his car wherever he wants. You wonder what Wander’s well-heeled neighbors think about all this. Maybe they know their complaints will be ignored tonight. 

He can tell you’re nervous, judging by the way he’s got his arm around your shoulders snugly and his side molded to your own. “You okay?” he whispers, leaning down to kiss the top of your ear. 

“Never been better…” There are a lot of people here, and they all seem to know each other…talking and laughing and hanging out on the back deck with the fancy string lights and the big metal tiki torches illuminating their celebration. 

You hobnob in, doing your best to mingle and shake hands and smile and let Tom lead you around to meet his coworkers and their plus ones. 

He pops you sparkling champagne and grabs himself a beer from the mini fridge, and you actually start to settle in a little bit with some liquid courage and the niceties of strangers. A nurse that works the third floor at your hospital is here, and that makes you feel ten times more welcome. Her husband is a senior detention officer in Tom’s office, and while you talk and laugh with his wife about healthcare antics, he and Tom awkwardly stare at each other and try to discuss work. 

“See?” Tom says, nudging your shoulder and handing you another tiny champagne bottle. “You’re doing just fine, pretty lady.” He leans on the back railing with you, looking absolutely long and delicious in denim and a silky button down, and once again you have to stop yourself from climbing him like a feral squirrel. 

Out for his nuts. 

The thought catches you off guard, and you choke on laughter. 

He raises his eyebrow at you. “I was right.”

“What?” You chuckle, hiccuping into the back of your hand. 

He gives your ass a covert squeeze, making you jump and gasp. “You are a little weirdo.” 

“Tom!” You slap his bicep, lightly, and he pulls you against him just a bit too close for social gathering standards, but you don’t care, because pressed against his hips with his arms around your waist, looking up at the light clogged night sky, is exactly where you ought to be. 

He grinds against you, and you stifle a moan-giggle into your arm. “Have another drink, y/n,“ he teases, mouth pressed against that thin piece of tender flesh behind your ear. 

“Shutup, meathead.” You grin up at him, twisting around to press your ass more firmly against his legs, heavily amused by the subtle flair of his nostrils and tightening of his fingers into your plush flesh. 

“I have half a mind to take you right back to my car and make you sit on my cock.” 

A delicious quiver runs through you, and like that cat in perpetual heat you’ve become, you lean back into him, giving up so easily, arching against his sturdy form. “What are you waiting for?” 

“Meet my boss, then we’ll talk about it.” 

Captain Wander is in the kitchen—if you can call it that. It’s massive, open and warm, with long polished granite counters and sleek appliances. Everything is spotless. Uncluttered. You overflow with envy for a moment, looking around at the high ceiling and neon beverage displays. 

Tom places a hand on the captain’s shoulder, grabbing his attention from the other guests at his expensive bar table. “Jack, this is my girlfriend, y/n.”

“Hi, I’m y/n,” you say, and then flush with the realization that Tom already introduced you and you’re embarrassing yourself in front of his boss of all people. 

However, Wander is gracious about it, smiling kindly at you and pressing your hand in his. You can't help but notice how soft his hands are compared to Tom’s. Manicured, well-kemp. He’s been behind a desk for a long time…

“It’s nice to meet you, y/n. You must have a high pain tolerance, if you’re into my boy Tom here.” There’s a sparkle in his eyes as he says it though, and Tom rolls his eyes with a sideways smile. You can tell by this downright deferential reaction (for Tom) that he looks up to Wander. 

“Nice to meet you too.” 

Wander grins. “Seriously though. You couldn’t be in better hands. Tom is a great guy.” He claps his subordinate on the shoulder, and fuck if Tom isn’t like a puppy rolling over to get his belly scratched. You’ve never seen anything like it–except maybe, with you. 

“Hey,” says the Captain, looking directly at you. “Can I steal my man for a second? We gotta talk some shop.”

Since that’s pretty much why Tom brought you over here, you nod agreeably. “Sure. Don’t keep him long though.” 

Wander winks at you before throwing an arm over Tom’s shoulders, leading him down a hallway where you suppose there might be an office or something. Tom looks over his shoulder at you, mouthing, You ok?

You nod, even though you hate navigating a crowd this big alone, and you miss him already. You decide to get some air, wandering out back to sit by the pool. The view is spectacular, the glittering lights of the city spread out below you. Plenty of people had the same idea as you, and you take a seat with your drink, trying not to look half as awkward as you feel without Tom’s steady presence at your side. 

Some of the other wives and girlfriends whose other halves have wandered off chat you up before drifting away. The lighted pool looks inviting, and you almost wish you’d brought your suit. 

“Oh shit, look who it is! You’re not still with that loser Ludlow, are you sweetheart? Come over here if you want a piece of a real man.” 

Your head turns as though on a swivel, disbelieving that this fucker would dare show his face here, and that he would have the guts to talk to you again. McCauley, the douchey detective from the bar on your first date with Tom, is seated on a lounger back in the shadows. You realize that everyone has pointedly been avoiding him. He’s clearly drunk, his speech slurred. When he stands he almost falls over, but somehow manages to stumble towards you. 

“Give it a rest, Kevin,” your newfound compatriot yells over, rolling her eyes at the drunken idiot.

You decide to ignore him and get closer to the other pool patrons, but his tough grip clamps your wrist before you can run, and instinctively you pull back and hit him in the face.

It’s not like you, to be physically violent, especially not with men twice your size who are stupendously drunk—after all, you know how that usually works out in the end—but over these past few weeks your inner cavewoman has been woken by Tom Ludlow, and then right after that, your inner scratching, biting, kicking, screaming, trapped child by Julian. 

You look at your hand in disbelief, then up at McCauley, his fingers delicately pressed to the blooming bright red handprint on the side of his head. His expression is surprise, then seething rage, and he yanks you forward just a little, tiny bit…but that’s all it takes to incite screams, to make you shield your face, to make you cower before him like a little bitch.

Ludlow is on him in a second, so fast you wonder, later, if he jumped off the porch deck just to get over to you, and he grabs him by the collar of his nice button up. You watch McCauley’s feet leave the ground, you hear a loud, blunt thunk, and then the drunkard is flying into the pool, splashing a chlorinated wave over you and the man now at your side with his warm hands on your face, protecting you from the outside world, from the people that otherwise would be seeing you cry. 

If they were paying attention to you, that is, and not losing their shit laughing at the groaning, bloody man surfacing from the water with his hand pressed over his nose. 

“You okay?” Tom asks, tucking your hair behind your ears and kissing your forehead, and if it wasn’t so heart warming you’d be embarrassed. 

You nod, wiping wetness from your cheeks. “He scared me, I hit him.” 

“That’s my girl,” Tom tells you, grinning wide, and you preen under his praise, smiling despite yourself.  

Tom pulls you against his side protectively, and addresses McCauley. “Either you get the fuck out of here,” he tells him, calmly, almost cordially, “or I throw you over the fence into the freeway next.” 

McCauley is all eyes, and you can tell by his expression, all rage, for you, but you stand your ground, chin raised, and you think of the chihuahua again, so brave when tucked behind its big bull mastiff guardian. You feel…good. Guilty about it, but good. Powerful, with this novel feminine energy pulsing through your blood. It’s so strange and melodramatic, to feel as if you’ve been possessed by Lilith herself for hitting some guy that touched you without your permission at a pool party. 

Your new friend loops her arm with your own. “Uh, you wanna transfer to med surge?” she teases.

Tom lets you go with her to talk and grab a drink while he makes sure McCauley gets to a taxi…safely. You’re much more relaxed, now, as if all the nervous energy transferred from your right hook into McCauley’s skull on impact, and you settle in to talk to Abby from medsurge and her cop wife friends, equipped with frosty Chardonnay bottles. 

Before long, and when the alcohol is really brushing your hackles down into soft fleece, Tom, Wander, and the cop husbands join you. You lean into your fierce protector, and he kisses your temple, like he can’t help but put his lips on you even if you’re surrounded by other people. 

It’s good here—better than you thought you’d ever get, especially in a place like LA—nestled by Tom Ludlow and laughing and drinking and talking. The stories that cops tell are wild, heart wrenching, hilarious. You’re gasping in horror as often as bursting out in laughter. 

Captain Wander—Jack—sets his beer down and commands the attention of his guests, a small wayward smile directed in Tom’s direction, and your tough detective bristles and squirms under the attention of his superior. You almost feel a little jealous of the way Wander subdues him. 

“Now Tom,” Jack says, looking directly at you. “I have some store-eees about Tom.”

Tom grumbles, and you push him playfully. “Oh yeah?” You ask, matching his grin. “Let me guess, he saved a toddler from a house fire and then went back in for their pet kitten?” 

This earns you a laugh around the table, even from embarrassed Tom. 

“Looks like she’s got your number, Luds,” one of his colleagues teases, patting his shoulder. 

Tom looks at you like you’ve got more than just that, and like when you get out of here he’s going to fuck you silly, but the problem with that is you want to be fucked stupid, so you continue, “okay, let’s hear it! I want all Tom’s stories, especially the really embarrassing ones.” 

You are in so much trouble, for egging this on, says his hand gripping your thigh firmly, sending a delicious, achy twang deep into your pussy. 

”Tom’s always the guy you call when you need to get shit done,” Jack starts, speaking directly to you. “Few years back, we had a big time dealer in holding. This guy was real scum of the earth—I’m talking famous among his kind. Every junkie from here to Sonoma had his number—“

“Sonoma?” You interrupt. “Is that far?”

A murmur of laughter ripples through Jack’s guests, and the Captain smiles at you as if he finds you endearing. 

“It’s about 400 miles away,” says Tom to you. Then, to Jack: “she’s from Kansas.” 

“Have you shown her around yet?” The Captain asks, and there is some underlying innuendo in his tone that you can’t quite decipher. 

“Yeah, a little bit.” You look up at Tom, and his jaw is clenched just a little too tight for your liking. To loosen him up, you grab just above his knee, in that sensitive alcove, and squeeze. 

This earns you a jump, and then a brutish grumble of annoyance. You want to ask him if he’s okay, because of his sudden change in demeanor, but Wander is already continuing with his tale. 

“Anyway, we had been trying to get this guy for years, and finally we had him in holding. Only problem was, without a confession, we couldn’t go forward with the conviction...and we had to let him go. That’s where Tom comes in.” 

“Like a human wrecking ball,” one of his coworkers chimes in. 

“Hey,” Wander shrugs, “that’s always been Tom. He’s the guy you call if you want shit done.“ He toasts to the ever-stiffening man beside you, and you grab two of his fingers, wrapping your palm around them in what you hope is a comforting gesture. 

“Anyway, we got that confession,” Jack says. “And then some.”

“At first I didn’t know what the hell he was gonna do with that 91 directory,” Tom’s colleague adds, patting him on the shoulder. 

“They had to screw that scumbag’s jaw back into place,” another says. 

“That’s why he’s the best of the best,” Wander tells you after a big gulp of beer. “You’ve got a good man here, y/n.”

“No doubt about it.” 

But doubt is a funny thing. It plants a seed deep inside your brain, and before you know it that seed has sprouted into wisteria vines and begun to wrap all around your squishy pink organ, binding its thoughts in chaos…

[kirstoons]

SDV Sebastian x Female Farmer (Yandere)

Author: Me (kirstoons or Pink_Femonade)

Editor and Queef: @gayrahim

TRIGGER WARNING: NSFW, 18+ content, MDNI, mature and sexual themes

Author’s note: I’ve begun posting this fanfic on my newly created AO3 account (Pink_Femonade). I’m updating my AO3 before I post here so feel free to check it out if you want the latest content. Also, thank you everyone who’s been supporting my writing and also my fan art 💕

Chapter 3:

Summary: It seems like the universe is out to get you as your plans fall apart rapidly.

It’s 6:00 AM Tuesday, Fall 9 and instead of being woken up by your usual rooster call, you’re roused by the loud buzz of power tools. Clearly Robin has already begun her work, so you might as well get up so you can complete yours as well.

You peek out the window before you get ready, just to make sure she’s alone out there with no other members of her family, specifically Sebastian. Seeing that the coast is clear, you begin your morning routine. As you hastily shovel down your slightly-under fried eggs, you begin making plans as to how to handle your night away from the farm and any possible contingency plans should they fall through.

After finishing all your chores on the farm and giving a friendly wave to Robin, you head over to Leah’s house with one of your best aged bottles of cherry wine to help sweeten the deal. Not that it’s necessary since Leah is your closest friend here in the Valley, but it’s more of a “thank you” gift for when she happily agrees to let you spend the night this coming Thursday. Plus, it’ll give you a chance to tell her all the crazy shit that’s been happening with Sebastian (omitting certain details obviously).

As you approach Leah’s little cabin, you see her round the corner of her home with a concerned look on her face and phone to her ear. You only catch a few words at the end of her conversation before she spots you and proceeds to end the conversation. She waves and embraces you with a quick hug, still maintaining a worried look on her face.

“Hey, everything okay?”, you ask with genuine concern. It’s not often you see Leah this stressed out.

“Not really,” she half-heartedly chuckles with a defeated look in her eyes. “I have a wicked bad termite infestation so I’ve been on the phone with exterminators all morning. The fastest appointment any of them have is for tomorrow but because of how bad the infestation is, they’re gonna have to fumigate my house, which means I have to stay somewhere else for the next three days.” She gives an exasperated huff before she continues. “So… I’m looking for a temporary place to stay and also trying to move all my wood sculptures out of the termites path of destruction. Thankfully, the one thing they haven’t gotten to is those so I’m trying to keep it that way. Mayor Lewis said I can store my sculptures and supplies in the community center for the time being so… it’s something.” She looks down at the ground, collecting herself before and looks back up to you. “So what’s up with you?” she asks in a joking tone trying to maintain some optimism in the situation.

“Oh, I…” You debate whether or not to tell her you also needed a place to stay since your problem seems far less dire than hers. “I just wanted to stop by and give you this.” You hand her the hand-packaged bottle of wine with a sympathetic smile.

“Fuck, this is exactly what I need.” She pulls the cork out with her teeth and takes a very VERY long swig. With wine dribbling down her chin, she asks, “think you have room in that big ole farmhouse for one more?”

It’s hard to hide the true disappointment in your voice as you remind her that you’re having work done on the house and that you were also looking for a place to stay. You also apologize for being unable to help your good friend when she really needs you.

“Oh yeah, I totally forgot you were getting some work done. That’s exciting, though. And you don’t need to apologize. I’m sure Elliot will let me crash, especially if I bring this wine with me.” She glances down at the half drunk bottle of wine. “Or maybe I’ll get him some of Gus’s crab cakes.”

You both let out a light laugh which helps ease your minds and you part ways to focus on your next steps. Plan A was a bust and it was your most solid plan, making you a bit nervous. You remind yourself that you have contingency plans for this very reason. You take a deep breath to rally yourself as you begin walking to Sam’s house.

*****

“Oh shit, that sucks,” Sam says after you explain your situation to him. You even add Leah’s predicament to your story to show how your options are running out. He listens intently but sometimes you swear it’s going in one ear and out the other.

“So anyway, that’s why I was hoping I could crash with you? I know you’d need to ask your mom and I’m totally fine sleeping on the couch.” You try to plead your case as convincingly as possible.

“I’m really sorry, Y/n, but I can’t. My little brother got some virus or something and now it’s spread to my mom, so the whole house is in quarantine.”

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!!!

“I bet Abby or Seb could help you out though,” he suggests with that sweet grin of his. He’s always so sweet and willing to help but hearing Sebastian’s name sends a cool chill down your spine. Damn, it’s impossible to be mad at Sam with his puppy dog expression and sweet sincerity. He’s always been so warm and kind to you, even when you were the new girl in town.

“Yeah, I’ll probably ask Abby next. Thanks, Sam.”

As you turn to leave, Sam calls out to you, “I bet Seb would prefer you ask him!” It’s an innocent tease, but you feel your cheeks burn bright red as you try to laugh along with him at his little “joke”. You bury your rosy cheeks in your jacket as you book it to Abigail’s place.

You’ve returned to your normal pigment by the time you reach Pierre’s store. You head to the far door near the counter, giving Pierre a brief wave as he finishes up with a customer, but before you reach the door, Pierre calls for your attention.

“If you’re going to see Abigail, I’m going to politely ask you to refrain.” He hands the customer their receipt and waits for them to gain some distance before continuing. “She’s grounded for the next two weeks.”

Uhhh isn’t she a grown woman? You keep your thoughts to yourself, as you watch your last chance at a place to stay (that’s free of Sebastian) evaporate before your eyes. You’re desperate at this point so you try one last ditch effort.

“Oh gosh, I had no idea,” you respond, really laying on the charm. “It’s especially bad timing cause I really needed a place to stay this Thursday.” You go on to explain the construction, and the following series of unfortunate events, hoping to earn sympathy points, and persuade him to make an exception. “So that’s why I’m urgently searching. I promise I won’t be a nuisance and I could stay on the couch rather than Abby’s room.” Your desperation is becoming evident and you rapidly search your thoughts for more convincing ideas. “And I’ll promise not to talk to Abby while I’m here… and…”,you trail off trying to think of a better argument, but Pierre stops you.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. I really wish I could help you but this just isn’t a good time.”

Fucking dick. If he did actually want to help you, he’d agree to let you stay.

“I understand,” you say with a tinge of bitterness. “Oh, I used that wonderful deluxe fertilizer you suggested. It worked wonders on my yams! I might stock up for the rest of my crops too…”

Pierre narrowed his eyes at you and your blatant attempt at bribery. He paused for a moment and you felt a tiny glimmer of hope that he was actually considering your offer.

“The answer is no, Y/n. I hope to see you back another day for that fertilizer.” That was definitely his way of asking you to leave. You give a polite nod in acknowledgment and leave the shop.

How? How is all this happening now?! Why does it feel like the universe is working against you?!

As these questions rage in your mind you turn the corner of the building, hoping to get some explanation. You swiftly approach Abby’s window and give it a few stern taps. You can hear shuffling from the other side and it takes a sec for Abby to come open the window.

“Hey what’s up?” Her tone is clearly irritated though you know that irritation isn’t directed at you. The fact that you came to her window leads her to conclude that you are already aware of her circumstance.

“Why’s your dad pissed? I mean I know he’s pissed a lot but this seems pretty extreme,” you ask, matching her same annoyance in solidarity.

Abby rolls her eyes and explains, “he found my weed stash. I have no idea how he even found it or why he looked through my stuff.” You did find this strange cause you knew where Abby hid her weed and you thought it was a damn good spot, too. She kept it taped to the backside of her nightstand drawer, so you’d have to pull the drawer completely out the the stand in order to get it. “Maybe he saw me pull it out or something?” She tried to rationalize before continuing, “But he obviously knew something since he knew exactly where to look.” It’s clear she’s suspicious that someone ratted her out to Pierre but only you, Sam and Sebastian knew where she kept it.

A lightbulb goes off in your head, and all the color drains from your face. Abby takes notice of your shift in demeanor.

“What? Do you know something?” She presses forward on the window pane urging you to share what you know. But you don’t have any proof, and she’s known Sebastian way longer than you, so why should she believe you? It would also make you look very suspicious, too, if you were to suggest him as the culprit.

“I’m just worried it’s… my fault because of… that time I left my lighter in your room! Like, what if he saw it and was like ‘why on earth is there a lighter in Abby’s room?!’ and then decided to search around?” You can feel your stomach in knots as you wait for Abby’s response.

At first she’s a little puzzled by your admission, but then she gives a soft, reassuring smile. “I seriously doubt that’s what tipped him off but it’s kinda cute that you feel that kind of guilt. Especially for something unintentional.”

You let out a sigh of relief and decide to explain your original intention for swinging by. You can’t help but think that this also gives you a stronger alibi of not being the one who snitched.

“Damn, that is hella unlucky,” she says. “But I’m sure Seb can help you out. He hardly leaves the house anyway so there’s no way he’s got plans or anything. Though, I can’t blame you for trying to find somewhere else instead.” Your ears perk up at this comment.

Has she seen the stuff he does? Has he done it to her? Are you finally not alone in this and someone else knows how fucking batshit crazy this all is?!

“Oh, yeah,” you say, trying to play it cool but wanting her to elaborate. “What makes you say that?”

“Oh, you know…. cause boys are so gross.” You feel your heart sink into the deepest pit of your stomach. You give an agreeing smile and nod, holding in the fact that you just want to scream. Abby continues. “I mean, can you imagine what Sam and Seb’s rooms would look like if you held up a black light. Ugh, it grosses me out just thinking about it.”

Again, you agree with her and accept your defeat. You trudge your way back to the main road and you head back to your farm with your head hung low. It’s a chilly evening and Robin is still working when you return, so you approach her and let her know that you’d like to take her up on her offer. She seems so pleased to hear you accept her invitation and begs you to join them for dinner that night, as well. Being the people-pleaser you are, you reluctantly agree and head inside. The dread of Thursday is already setting in, no matter how hard you try to push that feeling away.

You plop down on the couch, worn out from physical and emotional exhaustion. You get a text notification on your phone and as you go check it, expecting it to be Leah with a termite update, your breath catches in your throat.

Sebastian:

Glad you came to your senses and accepted the invite. Such a good girl

It feels as if your heart could pound right out your chest as you read and reread his text. You have so many questions and are completely terrified at this point.

Do I… should I… respond?

You shakily type your reply.

Y/n:

Why are you doing this? How did you do all this???

He responds mere seconds later, though it feels like an eternity of watching those three little dots appear, disappear and reappear over and over.

Sebastian:

So impatient. I’ve got to hold onto some of my secrets, you know? Be a good girl, and wait just a bit longer. I’ll be sure to reward my princess for her obedience

A second text soon follows.

Sebastian:

Also, I’m sure this goes without saying, but let’s keep this between us. No need for anyone to know our little secret, right? You’re such a good, obedient girl. However, if you do go and tell anyone else, that would make you a very bad girl, and I would be forced to punish you

You drop your phone beside you and lay there on the couch, staring at the ceiling. You’ve grown tired of trying to out maneuver Sebastian and his sick games, leaving you begrudgingly accept your fate. You lay on the couch for hours, unable to bring yourself to move, until you eventually fall into a restless sleep.

[luxe-pauvre]

Maybe it’s not a coincidence, then, that we find ourselves in a golden age of self-help and self-development, of “how I did it” podcasts and conferences and workshops. We’re encouraged to optimize ourselves at all times, and told to look upon this as fun, albeit compulsory. But although you can get a lot out of these activities, you can waste time looking for the answer, when what these stories all reveal is that great success is a combination of doing the work and getting (or perhaps starting out) really, really lucky. Lately, I’ve been thinking about how prospectors in the California Gold Rush rarely struck it rich. In 1849, the ones who did well were those who supplied prospectors with shovels, tents, and jeans—they kept the dream alive. Samuel Brannan, who sold shovels and other goods, was considered California’s first millionaire. Levi Strauss, who co-invented blue jeans, died with a fortune of $6 million, worth $175 million today. There’s nothing wrong, of course, with supplying people with what they need to pursue their dreams, but it seems that during this time of growing wealth and social inequality, the jeans and shovels have become largely symbolic, and the prospecting they facilitate, the endless panning for something, anything, ever more intangible. There is no goal, really. The panning is the goal.

Carina Chocano, What Is MasterClass Actually Selling?

[yalambda]

TF2 x Far Cry 5 ;)

when I first played tf2 and saw Solider was goin round beatin ppl up with a shovel I IMMEDIATELY thought of optimism

here's him beating some cultists ok

[seat-safety-switch]

I had a job interview at the zoo the other day. Now, don't get me wrong. I have enough animals at home, from packrats stuck in my wiring harnesses to my former neighbour's gang of feral chinchillas. In this case, doing my duty to society would involve some light landscaping, which means I would get to drive the little Kubota yard cars they had.

Ever since I was a kid, I was transfixed on visits to the zoo by these yard cars. You could tell me that we're taking a baby giraffe home, and I would not care. Hearing the utilitarian, hay-choked burble of a repurposed Club Car was enough to make me happy for the rest of the day. That and ice cream, of course. When I needed some extra spending money, this memory brought me back to the zoo. Also, their new "get paid cash under the table if you're not a snitch" employment policy, enacted since the last director got caught trying to flog excess gorillas on eBay.

I would like to say that the interview went well, but that's not really my task to judge. We talked for awhile about my basic proficiency with shovels (good,) rakes (adequate,) spades (poor,) and trowels (borderline) and about my availability (slutty, but not for free.) Then it was time for them to evaluate how I handled myself around an internal-combustion engine. Safety is paramount at the zoo: with all those kids around, accidentally backing over one of them while trying to rip a fat skid on the Gator 6x6 would look bad in the papers. Luckily for them, safety is my middle name.

You can imagine that it was a big surprise to me that I not only did not get the job, but that a nice process server arrived to give me a restraining order. In my defence, I figured that it would be a bit "out there" to jump a hedge, and thought twice about it. Ultimately, though, I had to show I was management material by demonstrating how quickly I can get the job done. Cost optimization is the only way that they would ever give me the keys to the really nice, bossman-only, ultra-luxe long-wheelbase EZGO for driving VIPs around. I hear it's got a turbo, all the better for outrunning those pesky investigative journalists and their pro-gorilla bias.

[general-kalani]

Oh she was so precious when she was worried.

"I'm fine, Panther... 'M fine... Don't worry 'bout me yet, how's my rifle? Not dented is she?" A little grin spread on his face, somehow he'd managed to lift his head up a little and open his eyes more.

Maybe he should start saying prayers to God.

If the laboured breathing is anything to go by at least. "Y'know it takes more than just some bullets to kill me." Or a shovel.

Where the fuck did the Deputy get so many shovels from? It was definitely going to be one of the things he was banning... His head was swimming after the first casual whack of that shovel.

"I uh... Ain't gon' walk much... Might have'ta carry me. Hope yer fine with that."

{ @rxdhairxdsirxns SO THAT STARTER RIGHT- }

... Was that crying? And a hand in his own? He recognised the little name at least of Jake.

Brows furrowed as he groaned. Trying to get a sense on his bearings again. Sense of at least direction. A quiet groan as he opened his eyes and saw that bright red.

Well he knew who it was now.

"Stop whimperin'... 'M fine just a few bullet holes." Fuck did it hurt though. He was surprised he hadn't straight up bled out at this point before Taryn had gotten to him.

Probably just blind luck.

"That Deputy didn't hurtcha 'gain did they?" How he wanted to get up, raise his hands to her face and kiss her all over to let her know he truly was fine.

As he was now? He could barely open his eyes, let alone let his hand close in on hers.

Why's it all gotta hurt so fucking much? He'd been in the Army and yet this was some of the worst pain he'd experienced thus far in his life.

[ryunumber]

My girlfriend doesn’t have a tumblr but she wanted me to ask you this-

The character Čeda Čedović, main character of At Least There is Čeda Čedović, could have a potential Ryu Number by connecting him to Edmund McMillund's games, but it depends on what you count as official, as ALTiCC is a non-commercial game. LONG ASK INCOMING:

1. Ceda appears as a Co-op Baby in The Binding of Isaac: Rebirth under the name Hooligan Baby along with the rest of his group, The Poor 4 (Half Spider Baby = Miroslav, Silly Baby = Djole and Master Cook Baby = Andre), but it is made unclear if this can be really considered him. Considering the creator of Čeda, LeatherIceCream, was involved with the development of the addon Repentance, and these babies in specific look a lot more like their original counterparts compared to other babies with references looking more like costumes, this could potentially count, and you could link Isaac and Shovel Knight together in Blade Strangers, then link Shovel Knight to Smash Ultimate, boom, Ryu. (There are also multiple other co-op babies that are meant to be characters from Mario, Final Fantasy and Warhammer 40K, but they resemble cosplays more than actual cameos.)

2. Bumbo, listed in-game as coming from Legend of Bumbo but also appearing in Isaac, appears as an enemy in At Least There is Čeda Čedović. This could be considered an unofficial cameo, but once again, LeatherIceCream has worked with Edmund before. If you believe this, this involves the same process listed above.

3. If that's not enough for you, Stephen from Edmund's game TIME FCUK also appears in At Least There is Čeda Čedović, as an NPC with dialogue. If we use the same logic used above, Stephen also appears in Binding of Isaac as an item, follow steps above.

This is a very interesting situation as it depends on how strict you are on the commercial rule. If a crossover is official in a non-commercial game, does it still count? Would love to hear the answer on this.

Čeda Čedović has a Ryu Number of 4.

(clarification below)

Going off the precedent I set with Owata, character appearances as links are fair game as long as the character getting linked from appears officially. Since Čeda's appearance is self-evidently official in At Least There is Čeda Čedović, all other appearances in the game are fair game for the sole purpose of linking Čeda to Ryu. This is why Steven from Time Fcuk is valid in this context, even if the sum total of Edmund McMillen's involvement with the game appears to be a Special Thanks credit under his Newgrounds handle of BlueBaby.

In contrast, even if we put aside that Pannacotta Fugo from JoJo Part 5 is just a normal, nonunique enemy in At Least There is Čeda Čedović, the game cannot be used to link from Fugo to another character, since it's not an official appearance.

(Not that it would even be the optimal path in the first place, but I digress.)

[paleopinesofficial]

The Pumpkin Patch notes!

BIG ONES

Added the Trick or Treat and Spooktacular DLCs.

Added a new ‘strength’ boost which makes it possible to dig up and replant fully grown trees on the ranch, including the pine trees

Added special content which is active during the week of Halloween:

Jack-o’-lantern decor item.

Albino and Melanistic ultra-rares are more likely to spawn.

Fixed Sarcosuchus shadow holes on Low graphics quality.

Tweaked several dino petting poses. 

Fixed being able to place paths in places you couldn’t dig them up from (e.g. the outer ranch fences). You can now dig up these paths.

Foods which provide multiple boosts are now displayed correctly in the journal and cooking UI.

Fixed being able to attempt to shovel poop with a full inventory if it was on a biome tile.

Fixed errors after adding a flourish to the cooking pot if any of the first three inventory slots were empty.

Fixed errors when inspecting Willem or Squillem with the journal.

Fixed the cutscene triggering too early in the “All the Colors of the Rainbow” quest.

Fixed an infinite money exploit involving the Small Water Bowl item.

Fixed a hang when opening the roster if notes had been entered for Lucky.

Paths can no longer be dug up and destroyed by tilling with a dino.

Various small optimizations, especially on rainy days.

Fixed particle colors when eating human food.

Optimized windmill and pine tree models.

Another possible fix for the “Why Can’t I Hold All These Dinos?” achievement (Xbox only).

Any bug reports made over the weekend will be reviewed as soon as we're back on Monday! As always, we want to say a huge thank you to all our players for their continued love and support. We released Paleo Pines one year ago today and we still can't believe what an impact it has made. If you decide to purchase our DLCS, we can'ty think you enough, but eve if you don't we are still so thankful for such an amazing community!

Now, let's get festive this spooky season!

All our love, The Paleo Pines Team.

[sterekchub]

Peeking through your blog and saw the "Stiles' ex-boyfriends thing" and hmmmm. Darker Ex-boyfriend who *very* much still has a huge control over Stiles, knowing exactly how to make the fatty balloon faster and eat more every week even after they've stopped dating. Uncaring about what he adds to the food as long as it makes Stiles eat more and become more useless. Aphrodisiacs, appetite enhancers, taste enhancers, calorie boosters, everything possible to make food as shamefully horny and irresistible and fattening for Stiles who is rapidly spiraling out of control. Stiles in such a constant haze that even while in class he can do nothing but think about eating, do nothing BUT eat. Barely mobile with a gut so huge that he can't maneuver around it, yet still forced to crave *more*. Stiles not appearing in class one day as he is too fat and full and tired to leave his bed on his own... And the ex decides that the hog should stay there, funnel fed everything possible until he's little more than a mindless blob, the thought of moving even a finger becoming more and more of a distant memory for Stiles.

YES. Give me ALL the dark feeder AUs. Gaslight and gorge. (And THANK YOU for this ask because this idea gave me SO many ideas so I'm sorry if it's long but UGH I love it so much). I have NO idea who his boyfriend would be- but Theo always seems like the good, darker choice…

Theo sits in the cafeteria just waiting for the new group of freshman. There's always one that stands out. The overconfident kid from a small town, who is very, very into new sexual experiences, convinced because he's handled all the monsters and bad guys of Beacon Hills, what's there to worry about in college?

Theo sees a human who smells faintly like pack -with no pack around. An easy target. And exactly his type. Stiles is already in the cafeteria, tray filled up with not a fruit or green in sight. Screams someone getting their first taste of freedom in college, the one who comes with so much hope and optimism, that Theo can charm and manipulate to his whim.

Comes up to Stiles, acts like he's a lost freshman too, asks to sit with him. Watches Stiles fold up his pizza to take a bite and knows he's found the perfect gluttonous target.

Step 1: Appetite Enhancers

They start dating within a month. It helps that when Theo asked- he had been refilling Stiles beer all night. Gets a hiccup, a burp, and then a yes.

Theo has never been one to start slow. Step 1 is the appetite enhancers. Acts like the perfect boyfriend, brings Stiles coffee in the morning, finds him studying later in the afternoon and comes by with a soda…any chance he gets, he's adding more in.

Grins like a predator hunting pray when he hears Stiles stomach audibly. And Theo is so supportive, tells Stiles he has the meal plan, take advantage of it!

Stiles maxes out his number of trips, from going multiple times a day, by the 3rd semester. Theo nicely hands over his card for Stiles to use. He can track how many times it's been swiped, and it's nice to see the enhancers are working….

Step 2: Aphrodisiacs' Stiles says he's too full for sex once. Theo is rough, wobbles his gut and laughs and tells him there's no such thing, says maybe all the wobbling of his fat gut will help the digestion.

And he doesn't fuck Stiles unless he's flushed and sloshing with too many beers and too many cheap, greasy pizzas, belly bloated and face pink. A few times he'll tell Stiles to keep eating, stops if he doesn't, and Stiles gets the message.

Starts adding Aphrodisiacs' to his food, nothing better then watching his growing project shoveling disgusting cafeteria slop in his mouth for an hour and then realizing he's getting hard.

Theo grabs at his love handles, paws at his gut and thighs the entire time they're making out, like he's keeping record of how much weight Stiles is gaining.

Step 3: Calorie Boosters

Stiles isn't dumb. He knows he's been getting fat, thinks it's pretty clear Theo is into it to. So he leans into it. The sex is good, the food is good, so what's the problem?

Stiles thinks it's his metabolism adjusting. The weight will come off. Or he won't gain much more.

He gets one crucial fact wrong. Stiles thinks it's an accident. That it's college, everyone gets fat! 60lbs your freshman year is a lot, but it happens.

So he happily dives deeper into kinky sex with Theo. When Theo suggests a funnel? Stiles is all for it. Theo tells him it's just some milkshakes he thinned out. It's enough Boost shakes to fill 2 days of calories.

Stiles orgasms so hard after he swears he sees stars, and enthusiastically agrees to Theo saying they should do it more often.

Step 4: Isolation

By the summer of his 2nd year, Stiles is easily up almost 200lbs from the relentless eating, Theo's boost shakes constantly (adding them now instead of cream to his coffees), Stiles is horny all the time, can't focus on class because he's too busy texting Theo how badly he needs him to come get him off in the library.

Doesn't know if he wants to eat or fuck or both, so he ends up multitasking, chugging down a shake Theo brought him while he's getting sucked off.

Stiles thinks he's living the idea college experience.

His father and concerned friends are sure what's going on. Stiles grades have dropped. He's ballooned. His belly hangs out of his sweatshirts, stretchmark ridden and looking always impossible bloated. Even without Theo there to dose him with anything, his stomach is so used to being stretched out he's HUNGRY.

Doesn't get a job. Doesn't want to do anything but stuff his face and call Theo. (Who acts so concerned, says is Stiles eating okay? He looks a little malnourished, why doesn't Theo order him some delivery?)

So Stiles comes back junior year upset, that his dad doesn't like Theo, kept trying to sit Stiles down and talk about his weight…swears he's done going back home. He'll find somewhere else to go next summer.

Theo gleefully asks Stiles to move in with him - he has a little apartment right off campus! Why not! Then he won't need to go home and instead of paying for dorming….they can find other things to spend it on.

Theo takes him to the campus store to pick out half a dozen pints of ice cream to make it better.

Step 5: Exercise

The extreme amount of weight Stiles has packed on, ending his junior year teetering close to 450lbs, the constant unhealthy diet of junk food after junk food, Stiles is an out of shape mess.

Theo is having the time of his life watching Stiles huff and puff and wheeze and sweat walking from their apartment to the campus. Red in the face, belly wobbling and swaying with each step, he feels miserable and tired and just wants to STOP walking.

Soda and some ice cream would make it better. A few of Theo's shakes. Finishes off an entire 2 liter of soda by the time he actually gets to class. And then he's so tired and exhausted from his little walk - he doesn't focus on anything that's happening.

Which is good - because Theo replaced the textbooks in his backpack with candy bars instead.

Step 6: Immobile

Theo gets what he wants in the end- when he wakes up to Stiles grabbing his stomach and groaning, he's so hungry! Doesn't have the energy to get out of bed. Can't figure out why his legs feel so heavy, why trying to roll over is even too much of task

he just needs to eat. It will clear his head. He doesn't even care what it is. Theo brings over a huge pitcher of his special shakes, a massive bowl of bacon and pancakes drowning in butter. Stiles forgets what he was worried about, forgets he has a class to get to, and his mind seems to go blank and only focus on the food in front of him…

As usual, Stiles eats and gets horny, is rutting against his gut because he hasn't been able to find his cock buried under his fatpad and belly in more than a few semesters.

Theo has a solution - but time for the funnel first.

[another-lost-mc]

gmorning Jes 💕 I wanted to let you know that ever since you shared about Tenebris, in the back of my mind I’ve been slowly incorporating him into my Diavolo selfship 🥹 mainly little scenes where he’s in attendance at our wedding, or meeting our children and letting them get to know their uncle. your OC’s are so wonderful in their own ways and just so lifelike, so I hope you don’t mind that in my head I’ve blended our obey me worlds together in this way hehe 💘

and also maybe Tenebris and I had a one night stand before I dated Diavolo but that’s still in the works ehehe

Ahhh Andy that is so cute! I love hearing about people pairing their MCs/OCs or selfships with the OCs. 🤗

When Diavolo first gets to know you, he gushes about his amazing older brother and how talented he is, and how he definitely thinks you should meet him! And when you do, Tenebris just sighs and rolls his eyes (fondly, with a hint of amusement) at Diavolo's cavity-inducing optimism (but he still finds a quiet moment to give you the very short and sweet if you hurt him... shovel talk).

Diavolo and Tenebris are actually very close, even if they have occasional periods where they don't see each other much in person since Tenebris prefers to live outside the chaotic bustle of the Devildom metropolis. Diavolo would definitely enlist your help to encourage Tenebris to move back to the castle, or if he refuses (he will), then he definitely wants your help convincing Tenebris he should at least consider teaching at RAD.

The two brothers are also perfect if you like a little bit of drama! Maybe Tenebris is a bit more intimidating and serious, but he's far less busy than his brother is so he could quickly become a reluctant shoulder for you to cry on when Diavolo can't be there for you himself.

The fact that he's part-incubus doesn't hurt if you need a little physical stimulation to take your mind off things.

Or maybe you don't want to choose, and you might not have to! Diavolo and Tenebris compliment each other so well, it wouldn't be too difficult to come to some sort of arrangement that works for all three of you.

[valos-venus-doom]

In Our Diabolikal Rapture [a VV one-shot]

POV: You're on vacation in Lapland with Ville and a particularly heavy snowstorm has you snowed into your cabin

Requested by @reneetje ❤️

NSFW

The wind was so intense it was causing the windows of the cabin to rattle. It was day 3 of a snowstorm that kept you and Ville stuck inside your Air B&B in Rovaniemi, and Ville was pissed. He had so many plans for you both on this week-long break he was taking from work and so far most of his plans had been foiled by the unexpected snow squall. It least 2 feet of snow had fallen and Ville was occasionally popping out to smoke a cigarette and shovel it away from the walkway. But you knew he was going out there to grumble and cuss his disappointment out away from you. Ville was frustrated, but he didn’t want to rub off on you. He was still trying his best to make it a fun experience, knowing full well he’d be off to the grind in just a matter of days.

The door opened up and Ville stumbled in, quickly shutting the door behind him and taking off his outdoor gear.

You smiled at his frustration, “Babe, I honestly don’t know what you expected. It’s January in the arctic circle, of course its snowing.”

He side-eyed you as he kicked off his snow covered boots, “Shut up.” he muttered playfully. “And this isn’t snow. It’s fine if it snowed, it’s allowed to snow. In fact, I’ve *love* for it to snow. This? This is 315 tons of white bullshit. Not snow.”

“That… is an oddly specific number.” you blinked at him.

“2 feet of snow out there. 20 pounds of snow per square foot. Rovaneimi is 2,927 square meters. That’s 629,890 pounds of snow, or about 315 tons. Quick mental math.”

“Remind me why you dropped out of school again?” you giggled.

Ville had stripped down to his sleek black thermal pants and undershirt, both form fitting and framing his body just right and he sauntered over to the fireplace, throwing another two logs in to keep the fire roaring for you. “So, we’re done watching Breaking Bad. What else is on Netflix that we can binge until mother nature decides to stop being a cunt?” he plopped down on the couch beside you, lifting his arm to summon you so snuggle up against him.

You did just that, pulling the fluffy blanket you had over you over his lap too. “Ohh… I dunno. Do you want to check out–”

You were cut off by the electricity going out.

“You have GOT to be fucking kidding me.” Ville closed his eyes in utter frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It’s fine.” you assured him. “It’s not going to last forever, I’m sure it’ll be back on soon.”

“I admire your optimism.” Ville grumbled. “I swear to fucking god I’m getting a partial refund.”

You laughed, “You’re going to ask Air B&B for a refund… because it snowed? Okay, Karen.”

Ville smirked, he knew he was being dramatic but he couldn’t help it. "I just want to make sure you’re having fun, that’s all. We only have four more days until we have to go back.”

“I can tell you a way we can have some fun.” you whisper, leaning in for a kiss. Your hand slowly dragging from his knee to the bulge in his tight thermal pants that left very little to the imagination.

“Mmm..” he moaned into the kiss as you lightly touched him, coaxing him into an erection. You pulled back from the kiss just to watch the look of bliss on his face, illuminated only by the firelight in front of you both.

His eyes flicked open for a moment so he could peel his shirt off and you followed suit. You had no bra underneath, you were left in just your panties. The cabin was getting chilly with the electricity being off, and you stood to throw the blanket you’d been using onto the floor between the couch and fireplace and quickly sat down. Ville smiled and slinked down off the couch to join you, placing himself on top of you between your legs.

Ville kissed you deeply as he wiggled out of his pants down to his boxers. He slowly and rhythmically rolled his hips, grinding his hard erection against your panties making you moan into his kiss. You loved when he dry humped you like this, it was flirty. It reminded you of messing around as a teen together and caused you to get even more wet.

“God you’re fucking beautiful.” he breathed against the skin of your neck, leaving little kisses under your ear. His hand traveled south, rubbing against your clothed mound. You rolled your hips against his hand, eager for him to touch you, and he quickly complied. You were soaking wet, making Ville chuckle. “Someone’s excited. I’ll bet you want me deep inside you, hm?” he purred in your ear, causing you to shiver. The baritone in his voice was practically orgasmic by itself.

“God yes, please.” you replied breathlessly.

Ville continued to kiss and nip at your neck as he got out of his boxers and began helping you remove your panties. “Lay back, let me take care of you.” he coaxed.

You laid down flat on your back, the blanket warmed from the fire closeby. “Spread your legs for me, there you go…” he continued, placing one of your legs over his shoulder as he kissed down your belly until he reached his destination. He kissed you gently, right over your clit causing it to throb with desire.

You felt his tongue drag delicately over your slit, still teasing and driving you mad. You moaned in agonizing anticipation, you wanted him to ravish you, but he was taking his time. Ville knew your ticks, he knew just how to keep you on the edge of climax the entire time so that when he finally pushed you over the finish line it would be explosive.

Deeper his tongue went, and your body was electrified. Your skin prickled with goosebumps as he licked and kissed every part of you. Quickly flicking his tongue repeatedly over your clit your legs began to tremble and stiffen.

“Ffffuck…” you groaned, your orgasm creeping up on you.

His mouth enveloped you, like he was taking a bite out of the juiciest fruit and he wanted every drop of its sweet nectar. It was like he was making out with your pussy and it drove you crazy.

“God please just give it to me.” you groaned.

“Well I do love when you call me God...” he muttered egotistically, biting his lip and placing his tip at the entrance of you, but not before rubbing it gently over your swollen clit, causing your hips to buck with painful wanting. “Look at me.” he instructed, and you immediately obeyed, willing to do anything to feel him inside you. “Good girl.” he praised before slowly entering you. “I just wanted to see those pretty eyes as I slid my cock in.” he smirked, groaning as he pushed as deep as he could. “Tell me you want it.”

“I want it.”

“How bad?”

You didn’t answer, you just whined wanting to to be fucked hard. Ville grinned, knowing he was winning whatever competition he had with himself in his head.

Throwing both your legs over his shoulders he began rhythmically thrusting, you could both hear just how wet you were, and you could feel how rock solid he’d become from all of the foreplay. He couldn’t help but stare at your face, mouth agape as he slowly fucked you. Taking care to thrust right up against your spot, the one he had memorized that would take you just to the edge of orgasm before he’d back off, building the burning desire within you both. He edged you multiple times until it became too much, you removed your legs from over his shoulders to around his waist, locking your feet behind his back. You wanted him deep and hard and you wanted to cum all over him.

Ville grunted as confirmation that the message was received. He began thrusting harder and deeper, picking up the pace. At the point, the only sounds aside from your load moans was the crackling fire and the sound of your bodies slapping against each other and echoing off the walls.

Ville’s eyes were shut tight, breathing through clenched teeth as he methodically pushed you towards your climax while trying to keep his at bay. He was never particularly vocal, but the occasional slip of a delicate, agonized moan from him suddenly propelled you over the edge. Your legs stiffened and locked around his lower back, as your pussy vice-gripped around his dick. “God yes. Please don’t– don’t stop.” wave after wave of rapture coursed over your body. “Fuck! Oh my god, Ville, yes!” you screamed as your orgasm rippled through your entire body.

“Oh… oh fuck.” Ville grunted as his hips twitched, “I’m cumming. Fuck, I’m cumming.” his eyes shut tight, mouth agape, a single strangled moan escaped him as he filled you. His chest heaved and body shivered as he came down from the high and rolled off of you to the warm blanket. Lying flat on his back he regulated his breathing and you rolled into him, head lying on his chest. You could hear his heart pounding.

“I love you.” he breathed.

“I love you too.” you replied sleepily, your voice raspy from screaming.

“Our neighbors probably heard you.” he chuckled. “It’s just as well, they should know Ville Valo knows how to fuck properly.”

You rolled your eyes, “Of course you’d say something dumb like that.”

“Shall I grab the pillows and blankets from the bed? Make up a little nest here in front of the fire for us to sleep in?” Ville suggested. You nodded happily, staring into the fire. “And then round two?” he asked with a smile, kissing the top of your head. You nod even more enthusiastically, making him laugh. “Your wish is my command.” he kissed the top of your head once more before getting up, still naked.

Before he could pull his clothes back on, the lights flickered and turned back on.

“See? I told you it wouldn’t be long.” you teased.

[starflethegreat]

Shovel Knight ships I got a few, King x Propeller would be my first suggestion (I have problems)

But if u want real crack ship here's one me and my best friend came up with awhile go: Specter Knight x King's Mother

~ @katz-cradle

the madoka magica soudtrack is not optimal music for making ship art. anyway, here you go!

[evilphrog]

How to make a show I will love:

1. Take a guy who has alienated everyone he cares about with his lies, who is afraid to even try putting things right so he just shovels more lies on top of them and acts cynical to everyone. He is convinced he can never be more than a total jerk and a failure.

2. Give him a huge falling out with his violence-loving sibling, who responds by joining a six-person team that fights against him. Both he and his sibling should blame him entirely for the falling out, but it should be obvious that some of the problem is his sibling’s refusal to accept any apologies. Oh, and give the sibling lightning powers.

3. Take another guy who was kidnapped by a shadowy government organization and brainwashed for most of his life. Make him radiate toxic optimism as a shield against the obvious guilt and trauma.

4. Force them together to solve mysteries involving time travel, much to the first guy’s annoyance and the second guy’s joy.

5. Make their best friend a woman who can kick anyone’s ass, but who is still allowed to be emotional. She starts the show wanting to be the perfect soldier, but ends up making her own path.

6. The titular character needs a narrative parallel in the form of a feral woman who has been raised entirely outside society. Her only real skillset is killing people, and she has negative social skills. Do not feminize her at all. She is going to be insane, violent, and dangerous. Her biggest dream is to find a new reality where she can just be a happy nobody.

7. Give her that dream, then make her watch it all fall to pieces. Have her blame herself for it, abandon that dream world, and return to the chaos.

8. The first season needs to be about free will vs. determinism, and taking control of your own narrative. The second guy should help the first guy find a way to atone for his past mistakes. It ends on a cliffhanger where the first guy does the hard work to be honest and vulnerable for the first time, but he ends up even worse off than before. He still chooses to commit to doing the right thing in spite of it all.

9. The second season starts with the first guy frantically searching for the second guy. When he finds him, the second guy is having a complete nervous breakdown because his toxic optimism has stopped being effective against the trauma and guilt. Now, the first guy has to turn the tables and be the one to help the second guy come to terms with his own past and take control of his own narrative.

10. Add a frat boy villain who represents the shadowy government organization. He has to be the dumbest human being alive, a total asshole, and have mental breakdowns every episode. He eventually betrays his older mentor for his own self-interest, and begrudgingly helps the protagonists defeat the shadowy government. He is still an asshole.

11. Throw in a lovable, hyperactive tech genius who is more interested in solving the puzzles than in the moral implications of his actions.

And boom! Instant classic.