#the crimson hayballer

[edsonjnovaes]

Corrida muito maluca!

Palavras Perdidas: Carros inspirados em desenhos, 80 atividades para crianças: simples, divertidas, de baixo custo e todas dentro de casa, Filmes e seus carros, Cars, planes, trucks and Teepees on Historic Route 66., What’s happening here?!? Participe de nosso grupo no WhatsApp Recomendo: Art and culture of the native peoples of our planet. ART AMBA MIRIM Share, help us lift other flights.

[bobauthorman]

This new Wacky Races reboot is trippin'.

[acmeoop]

Red Max

The Crimson Haybaler

[sig-nifier]

He takes the final step, lifts the lantern to flood the empty station with light, and sees a man laying on his stable floor.

He’s brunette, sweating, breathing unsteadily. There’s blood wiped messily on his forehead, down his neck. Half laying, half sitting up against the stack of haybales Buck keeps at the bottom of this station, he’s got one bloody hand pressed to his right thigh, which is caked with crimson. His other hand rests wearily on the Colt that’s tucked into the waistband of his pants.

Gale’s heart jumps, he wishes suddenly that he really did have a rifle, but when the man sees that Buck’s unarmed he raises the hand slowly, in a shaky surrender.

-

“You got a name?” Buck asks, in an attempt to distract.

The stranger swallows and takes a deep breath. “Bucky.”

Buck almost pauses in his work. He scoffs and shakes his head. “I’ll be damned.”

“Why’s that?”

“People call me Buck.”

Bucky huffs out a pained laugh, which quickly devolves into a groan. When he’s finished, he says, “Goddamn fate.”

-

The one where where stablehand Gale finds outlaw John “Bucky” Egan bleeding out in his stables.

the western masters of the air fic that nobody asked for. this is entirely self indulgent and i hope u all enjoy

[jesse-of-jugo]

The Knight and the Rebel Chapter 1, Part 2

                Sevante was running, running through a fiend of blood and stone. Blood like streams. Stone like skin. The sky was dark, but there were no stars. Why were there no stars? There should be stars. Nightmare obelisks, tall and thin and swallowing the light with their blackness, disappeared into the empty sky, bellowing their deep siren calls that shook the earth. Sevante stumbled and turned. For all his running, the pursuer loomed above him as if he had never moved. Draped in billowing crimson below a placid brass face, with eyes that were emptier that a skull’s, it produced a bony hand with many rings from its cloak, and touched Sevante’s chest with a fingertip. In an instant his blood boiled in his veins and his screams drowned out the trumpeting sirens and…

                Sevante’s face bounced off the floorboards. Cursing quietly, he writhed into a sitting position of the floor. The haybale he had used as a bed was only a foot or so high, so thankfully the fall was not enough to break his nose. Still, it wasn’t a terribly pleasant way to wake up from a nightmare.

                The barn echoed with the steady drumroll of rain against the shingled roof, which periodically whipped into frenzied cacophonies as the stronger gales of the storm hit. The aged wood creaked under its own weight, as if the wind reminded it of its age. As an old man’s bones crackled and popped, so did the barn’s greyed skeleton.

                Thunder crashed outside, throwing light through the open barn door and revealing the silhouette of a man in the doorway. Sevante was on his feet in an instant, reaching for the longsword leaned against the bed of hay, but stopped and settled once he recognized the build and hooded coat of the homesteader who had let him sleep here for the night. Sevante sat back on the hay. “It’s dangerous to sneak up on somebody like that.”

                The man, who Sevante had learned earlier was named Kieth Darner, stepped inside. “Didn’t want to wake ya, case you were still dozing.”

                Sevante let out an exhausted sigh. “Well, I’m not.” He was somehow more tired than before he had set down for the night.

                “I see that,” replied the farmer. “Heard it, too.” His face was a shadow. Darner had seemed personable in the daylight, friendly even. Now, in the dark of the barn, backlit by the single, dim lantern he had set outside the barn, he could have been a specter. “Your hollering, it’s frightening my kids, the missus, too. Sounds like you’re…you know…touched.”        

                Touched. That was a nasty word, these days.

                “You’ll want me gone, then?” Sevante said flatly.

                Darner may have nodded. It was impossible to tell. “Before sunup, or when the storm dies down. Whichever comes first.”

                Sevante nodded and rolled back onto his hay bale. “Consider it done. Thank you for the hospitality.”

                The shadow in the shape of Darner turned to go. “Don’t let me find you here in the morning.”

                Sure enough, when morning came, the only thing Darner found was a pair of gold coins resting where Sevante’s head had been, an extremely generous sum. He pocketed the coins, told his wife he had only found one, and never thought about the traveler again to his dying day.

[acmeoop]

Cannonball Power “The Dipsy Doodle Desert Derby” (1968)

[alexjcrowley]

Okay fine I have to do everything in this house

Referring to the 1968-69 show because I am old

No. 1: the Slag brothers in the boulder mobile

Seeing as I am doing this in 2024, I'll go with the Alpine line up Pierre Gasly and Esteban Ocon. They would probably drive faster if they had The Flinstones car you have to carry yourself and run.

No. 2: The Gruesome Twosome in the Creepy Coupe

Who gets the car of nightmares? I wanna say Haas, because as much as Alpine is failing this year and I would kiss Kevin Magnussen on the lips for what he did in Jaddah, who of us is reacting any differently than screaming in horror if we find out our favourite driver ended up in Haas? Also the dragon is definitely the spirit of Gunther Steiner still haunting the team.

No. 3: Professor Pat Pending in the Convert-A-Car

A car that can adapt to every circumstances? Now that would be a miracle. Unfortunately, I'll go with Alfa Romeo/Sauber/Stake F1 Team/Future Audi for their particularly pronounced tendency to change name every few years just to confuse everybody on the paddock (at least the ex Alpha Tauri still has Racing Bulls in it and a somewhat recognisable logo).

No 4. : Red Max in the Crimson Haybaler

Yeah, I don't care it's red, the name of the pilot should suffice, plus this literally flies, which is more or less what RedBull cars have been doing for a while. And if there were any other doubts, let me just add: it's not a coincidence it's one of the few cars without a co-pilot, he can win this game all on his own.

No. 5: Penelope Pitstop in the Compact Pussycat

You can try to convince me this ain't Ferrari and you can fail. Doesn't matter the performance, they stay the most stylish car on track. And Penelope is definitely devilishly gorgeous.

No. 6: Sergeant Blast and Private Meekly in the Army Surplus Special

I'll be honest, I'll go with Williams because Logan's surname is literally Sargeant. Williams wants YOU to represent USA at the rich european family motorsport.

 No. 7: Ant Hill Mob in the Bulletproof Bomb

Mixed bag of wayyy too many guys for just one car. I'm getting Alpha Tauri VisaCashAppRB switching seats every three months vibes. Also those guys are as tall and as angry as Yuki Tsunoda.

No. 8: Lazy Luke and Blubber Bear in the Arkansas Chuggabug

One's too anxious, the other doesn't break a sweat. These are definitely Norris edging for a win and Oscar with the Kimi Räikkönen attitude in a McLaren.

No. 9: Peter Perfect in the Turbo Terrific

No one could embody the perfect gentleman aura of Peter Perfect like the Britcedes duo. They act like British Royalty, and, like Peter always comes in aid of Penelope, Lewis is for obvious reasons quite friendly with Charles this season. Yeah, the car is shaped like a dick, but that's a subtle reference to George Russell being a meme lord.

No. 00: Dick Dastardly and Muttley in the Mean Machine

An old man ready to sabotage everyone on the race and his loyal sidekick? Fernando Alonso and Lance Stroll could not have more accurately represented.

About the Rufus Ruffcut and Sawtooth in the Buzzwagon erasure, blame Tumblr for not allowing more than 10 pictures in a post, but also F1 for turning down Andretti's offer, otherwise we could have done all of the 11 cars.

F1 x Wacky Races crossover when

[aesthetic-allie-things]

The Wacky Races

(+Bonus) 

The Mean Machine

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Bouncy, if you dont mind the request, would you consider writing something that would involve Jaskier singing "Off with his shirt" from Galavant in it?

Yeah, I’ve been putting this off for a minute...

tw: horny

---

Geralt allowed his brothers to usher him into a pair of clean, comfortable black jeans and his usual biker boots. He was confused, however, when they insisted that he wear a flowing white shirt that looked like it had been stolen from the closet of a Disney prince. “What the fuck is this?”

“It’s a themed bar,” Eskel explained, gesturing to his own vaguely-medieval getup. “You have to dress at least slightly in costume or they won’t let you in.”

“And the drinks are delicious and reasonably priced,” Lambert urged. “I don’t like going out in public, but I love this place.”

“Fine,” the middle brother grouched, slipping into the required outfit. “But if this is one of those weird gay bars you keep dragging me to I’m going to-”

---

To absolutely nobody’s surprise, it was one of those weird gay bars they kept dragging him to. Only this time they at least explained that the owner/bar manager was just his type and really flirtatious. Great. Excellent. Things he didn’t need right now: his brothers meddling and a potential romantic interlude. 

He was already too busy. 

Alas, they were insistent. And stronger than him when they teamed up. 

---

“Eskel, Lambert, good to see you boys again!” a strange brunette man practically bounced over to meet them. He was wearing tight blue silk pants and a very revealing white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The sight of his eyes, brighter blue than his pants and sparkling in the dim light of the ‘tavern’, had Geralt’s heart galloping in his chest. “Just in time, too.”

“Is it ten o’clock already?” Lambert mused, glancing down at his wrist as if a watch might suddenly sprout there and reveal the time. “Oh, why I suppose it is! We wouldn’t want our brother here to miss the show, Jaskier.”

“Did you boys plan this?” the man (Jaskier apparently) asked, turning and making his way up a short staircase. He gestured at Geralt, who blushed crimson at the attention. “Is that why you brought this cutie along?” 

“Mayyyyybe,” Eskel drawled, very suspiciously. Geralt didn’t like where this was going. Not at all. Not even a little bit. 

“Well get in position boys,” the lights suddenly dimmed and a spotlight brightened on Jaskier. “It’s time!”

A cheer rang out through the bar and Geralt was yanked back onto the dance floor by his brothers. He watched, fascinated and terrified, as a troupe of well-organized dancers in matching medieval costumes appeared around Jaskier. Music swelled from the speakers and the bar owner began to sing (rather prettily): 

“You trespassed upon my kingdom, Now you are in my sway... Which basically means as the Queen of all Queens, (this line came with a wink) I'm going to make you pay!”

A cheer rang out again and Geralt realized with growing apprehension that a second spotlight had been turned on and focused on him. He shot a glare at Lambert, who was grinning like a giddy schoolchild and another at Eskel, who was staring at the ceiling like nothing was happening at all. Two of the dancers grabbed Jaskier under the arms and brought him to stand directly in front of the blushing, white-haired ‘interloper’. 

“Well, one thing for sure, We'll settle the score, And trust me it's more than fair!

Off with his shirt!” 

Geralt’s eyes went wide when Eskel and Lambert both reached for him and ripped the shirt from his shoulders. They gave me a tearaway outfit and I didn’t even realize. These fuckers are going to pay when this is all over...

Jaskier nearly missed a line in his song, those blue eyes too busy scanning hungrily over Geralt’s chest and abdomen. The anxious horse-trainer was glad he spent so much time at the gym (and lifting haybales when no one else wanted to) because the brunette was pretty cute himself, and Geralt didn’t mind the attention he was getting at the moment.

He suffered through the rest of the musical number, pushed and pulled around the dancefloor and even once behind the bar by the dancers and Jaskier. When it all ended and the crowd resumed their drinking and dancing, Geralt found himself with a large drink in his hand and a new, far more comfortable black t-shirt.

“Sorry about that little misunderstanding,” Jaskier frowned, sitting down next to him on one of the plush barstools. “Your brothers told me you were prepared but clearly they lied. If I’d known you didn’t sign up for that yourself, I wouldn’t have used you as my volunteer at all; consent is really important around here, especially to me.”

“It’s alright,” Geralt gave a lopsided grin. “It was actually kind of fun. You have a great singing voice.”

“Oh, why thank you,” the half-stranger’s blue eyes fluttered. “Your drinks are on the house for the rest of the night, just so you know.”

“Thanks. You don’t have to do that.”

“I know. You’re hot,” the brunette smirked. “And I hear you’re great with horses. Want to hang out some time when we’re not at work or inebriated?”

“Yeah. That would be great. Maybe then we can take your shirt off this time.”

[sohannabarberaesque]

And you thought The Crimson Haybaler from Wacky Races was weird enow as it was....

[citaelcuervo]

Red Max on the crimson haybaler 161/365 #illustration #drawingoftheday #artistoninstagram #art #character #characterdesign #art #digitalart #digitalpainting #drawing #painting #fanart #wackyraces #hannabarbera #redmax #thecrimsonhaybaler #animated #race #car #autoslocos

[edsonjnovaes]

Los autos locos

Los Autos Locos es una serie animada producida por Hanna-Barbera que constó de 34 episodios con una duración de 10 minutos cada uno y fue inspirada en el film La carrera del siglo. Doblaje Wiki Nº 1 “El Rocomóvil” (Boulder Mobile) La serie hacía parodia a las carreras de autos, y a su vez estas eran de lo mas alocadas y bizarras. Tuvo algo único en su clase pues los antagonistas (Pierre…

[gameabledisneypodcast]

Episode 15: Wacky Races

If you like cool cars and funny voices (but not coherent stories), gaming Wacky Races might be for you! This week, we discuss the "plots" of this undeservedly beloved Hanna-Barbera classic, then play a Wacky Race of our own using a streamlined version of Blacktop RPG. Grab your Crimson Haybaler and enjoy! Check out the episode here!

[pulpsandcomics2]

The Crimson Haybaler

[sig-nifier]

Signifier's Fic Masterlist

A list of all the fandoms I've written for - incase u stumbled here and might be interested - with the fics and their summaries listed below.

challengers

masters of the air

our flag means death

buzzfeed unsolved/watcher

star wars: the acolyte

marvel's eternals

marvel's deadpool

arcane

challengers

the art of consumption - patrick x art (NSFW)

The one where Art reveals he's never had a blowjob before, and Patrick jumps at the chance to change that.

There’s silence. A period of mourning for what the night could have been. And then, Patrick says simply, “I’d do it.” Art frowns, not following, and turns his head to look at him. Patrick looks back, the picture of innocence, and slowly shifts his gaze from Art’s face to his hips and back again. Oh. Art chokes on air, splutters out a disbelieving laugh. “You’d suck my dick?” He asks, incredulous. Patrick shrugs. “Already had your tongue down my throat, how different could your dick be?”

masters of the air

make you feel alive - bucky x buck

The one where Bucky is temporarily MIA, and Gale loses his mind.

Through the smoke, and the noise, and the grief, there’s Bucky. There’s blood all down the right side of his face, but his eyes are bright, and when he sees Gale his smile is even brighter. There are so many things he wants to say, so many things he wants to do, but there’s a crowd, and Gale doesn’t think he can find the right words anyway. Not here, not now. What he settles on is eloquent, and he hopes it portrays all of the feeling he puts behind it: “What took you so long?” Bucky’s grin widens. He shrugs his shoulders up to his ears and gestures back towards the poor excuse of a plane. “We took a detour,” he says simply.

summer rain - bucky x buck

The one where Bucky doesn’t cope very well with being a prisoner of war, and Gale is there to keep him grounded.

“Don’t you ever, ever, do something that stupid again.” John thinks if he concentrates he can feel the sharp of Gale’s nails through his jacket. “Our time’s gonna come.” When still, Bucky says nothing, Gale loosens his grip and places his hands softly on either side of John’s head. He places a delicate kiss on his cheek, his forehead, the bridge of his nose. “You gotta stay with me,” he says, pleading. I can feel this, Bucky thinks. Let this be the only thing I feel.

obsessions, and other things - bucky x buck

The one where the war ends, and the aftermath comes with both its good, and its bad.

“They’d have to catch us first,” Gale counters. “They’d catch you.” “Ain’t no bikes around for you to cheat with, Bucky.” Bucky turns to look at him then, a wide grin slowly slinks its way onto his face. He comes close, leans down, and places a long kiss on Gale’s mouth. When he pulls back he says, “I don’t need a bike,” and then he takes off running. It takes a moment for Buck’s brain to catch up, still in the moment ten seconds ago, and then he’s tearing out of the alleyway after him.

wild things - bucky x buck western au (NSFW)

The one where stablehand Gale finds outlaw John “Bucky” Egan bleeding out in his stables.

He takes the final step, lifts the lantern to flood the empty station with light, and sees a man laying on his stable floor. He’s brunette, sweating, breathing unsteadily. There’s blood wiped messily on his forehead, down his neck. Half laying, half sitting up against the stack of haybales Buck keeps at the bottom of this station, he’s got one bloody hand pressed to his right thigh, which is caked with crimson. His other hand rests wearily on the Colt that’s tucked into the waistband of his pants. Gale’s heart jumps, he wishes suddenly that he really did have a rifle, but when the man sees that Buck’s unarmed he raises the hand slowly, in a shaky surrender. - “You got a name?” Buck asks, in an attempt to distract. The stranger swallows and takes a deep breath. “Bucky.” Buck almost pauses in his work. He scoffs and shakes his head. “I’ll be damned.” “Why’s that?” “People call me Buck.” Bucky huffs out a pained laugh, which quickly devolves into a groan. When he’s finished, he says, “Goddamn fate.”

washed clean - bucky x buck

The one where Gale obsesses over cleanliness in the Stalag camp and Bucky does his best to understand.

John watched him work for a while, watched the way the dirt fell off his boot, satisfying-like, onto the steps below. Slender fingers worked the brush back and forth, a constant rhythm. Bucky would have quite liked to shut his eyes and listened to the sound, felt the way Gale’s body shifted with each stroke. He could pretend they were somewhere else – the porch of their own house, a summer day, their dog running around the front yard. He’d tip his head onto Gale’s shoulder, and the blonde would put his arm around him, and nothing would ever haunt them again. Not the war, not the memories, not themselves.

a magic touch - bucky x buck fantasy au

The one where Witch Hunter Gale Cleven is tasked with pursuing John Egan, a dangerous Sorcerer.

The cobblestone floor was melded around his left ankle, pinning him to the ground. He reaches back, tries to peel the stone away with his fingernails, but it’s like trying to pry up the Earth itself; a futile waste of time. Footsteps approach. Gale slowly, slowly, looks up. Above him, Egan is panting. He’s sweating, curly hair starting to stick to his forehead, and there’s an infuriating, amused smile on his pretty face. Gale looks up into that enchantress grin and hates him immensely. “Stuck, are we?” The witch quips lightly, and Gale grinds his teeth. He braces his hands against his thigh, begins to push himself up to standing, but as he gets half-way an unseen power forces him back to his knees. “Let me go,” Gale says through clenched teeth, all the calm of a sandstorm. Egan preens. “Say please.” I am going to tear you apart, Gale thinks. He says: “coward.” It does nothing to wipe the smile from Egan’s face. He crouches down, balances on the balls of his feet in front of him, and tips his head, regarding. “I find you witch hunters much more agreeable on your knees.”

seven miles out of freedom town - bucky x buck western au (NSFW)

The one where Deputy John Egan doesn’t come home for a few days, and Gale sets out to find him.

It had been four years since Gale Cleven had found one “Bucky” Egan almost bleeding to death in his stables, and life had been far better for it. The town of Lemmon welcomed their new Deputy sincerely, a pleasant change to the lawman who had come before him, and Bucky had responded to their acceptance with pleasing smiles and endearing quips. Even brothers, Crosby and Bubbles, had started to fear him less, and like him more. John had slipped into Gale’s world and knocked it out of orbit, into a kinder, softer galaxy. - Rosie’s holding a letter in his hand. “Bucky home yet?” He asks carefully. “I ain’t seen him.” All Gale can do is shake his head, dread building in his lungs. In his peripheral, Curt stands up. “He okay?” Curt asks. “Course he is,” Gale snaps, and then regrets it. He says, softer, “when you known him not to be okay?”

our flag means death

a study from a lighthouse - ed x stede

The one where Stede is a lighthouse and Ed is not immune to its beacon.

They could make plans to leave the life together, Ed would so enjoy the pleasure of running away, and when they see him standing at the dock they would not be frightened but loved and welcomed and expected. In a reversing of roles it is they who would be drawn to him.

your blinding light - ed x stede

The one where Ed meets the man who owns the lighthouse, and they both find everything they've ever wanted.

“Come for a trip?” Stede’s heart is a jackrabbit in his chest and he so badly wants to say yes, god, please yes, because is this not everything he has ever wanted? A kind pirate, who likes his handkerchief and handles his books so gently, with a lovely ship and access to the entire ocean. Someone to laugh with, and speak with who will listen and appreciate. He wants so deeply he fears he may die from the ache. But he is a lighthouse. Lighthouses do not sail the seas, they command them, and Stede’s not sure if he’s ready to make that change just yet. Not while there is work to be done. Not when he knows he will never want to go back.

the day that i met you, i started dreaming - ed x stede

The one where Ed fulfils his promise.

He stumbles down the lighthouse steps, feet and soul equally as eager, and when Stede wrenches the door open he sees Ed, soaking wet with a lamp in one hand, and the other outstretched towards him.

buzzfeed unsolved/watcher

hitchhikers - shane x ryan

The one where Shane and Ryan both stumble across a strange man with strange secrets.

Hitchhiking is dangerous, from both ends of the deal. There's a chance the person who picks you up is a killer. There's a chance you get picked up by a killer. Either way, it doesn't look good. What happens if one killer picks up another? - "Do you have a name?" He asked. “It's C.C.", the man said. And then, like an afterthought, "Tinsley. What's yours?” “Goldsworth." The lie came as easy as breathing. "Ricky Goldsworth.”

the axeman of new orleans - shane x ryan (NSFW)

The one where a certain axe weilding murderer takes a special interest in Ryan Begara.

It was funny, to him, the things he could stand, and the things he couldn’t. He could slit someones throat ear to ear, but he couldn’t touch old food that had been left on a plate overnight. He was fine with the splatter of blood on his face when he’d struck an artery, but he had to hold his breath when taking the trash out. He could take an axe to someones head, deform their skull, and leave them dying, but he couldn’t stand coffee. * Ryan’s out at a bar one night, "jazzing it up", to avoid the axemans wrath. The cute guy sat next to him might know a little more about the axeman than he lets on.

star wars: the acolyte

there's something about power - osha x qimir (NSFW)

The one where Qimir returns to the cave, injured, and Osha plays caretaker.

With the lightest pressure, she hooks her finger underneath his chin, and tips his head up. He goes incredibly easily, and that does nothing to help the power that threatens to course through her veins. Qimir’s lips part, she can feel his soft breath on her wrist, and there’s a look in his eyes that she doesn’t know the shape of yet. Osha leans slightly closer, wants to ensure the cut won’t begin bleeding again, and from there her gaze travels over the rest of his face, past the curve of his cheekbones, along his skin until her look lands on the soft pink of his mouth. Morals be damned. It would be so easy.

darkness ascending - osha x qimir hades and persephone au (NSFW)

The one where Osha is Persephone and Qimir is the God of the Underworld.

There is a man in her garden. Dressed in a long, black cloak; his hair is equally as dark. Slicked back away from his face, a few strands have betrayed him, and fallen into his midnight eyes. Tanned skin, dark stubble atop his upper lip. He’d made no sound as he approached, as if he too had grown from the Earth. He is, Osha thinks, offensively pretty.

marvel's eternals

i like the way your words taste - druig x makkari

The one where Druig makes a habit of kissing the back of Makkari's hand over the years.

My beautiful, beautiful Makkari. Did you miss me? The tip of her chin had been answer enough.

marvel's deadpool

put your money where your mouth is - logan x wade (NSFW)

The one where Logan and Wade go for a little drive in a Honda Odyessy, and then maybe get it on in the driver's seat.

The merc gasps suddenly, scrambling in his seat to sit on his knees. He reaches out with a single finger to poke and pinch at Logan’s neck. “Are you blushing?” “It’s irritation,” Logan bites back, trying to twitch his neck out of Deadpool’s grasp. “There’s nothing wrong with a bit of gentle canoodling, peanut. People like when the meanie goes soft.” Wade turns, and appears to address someone Logan can’t see. “I hear it’s very popular in fanfiction.” “Who are you talking to?” Logan asks, and Deadpool whips his head back round. Gloved fingers still on Logan’s neck, Wade drags them slowly down his shoulder, down past his arm and over his hip. “You,” he says seductively, “later, in your dreams.”

i want you i need you oh god - logan x wade (NSFW)

The one where Logan doesn't cope very well with living in Wade's world, and friendly neighbourhood Deadpool is there to help.

Logan can’t fucking escape the stupid little group Wade keeps calling X-Force – except they’re not stupid at all. They’re nice. They’re nice to him and it hurts so damn bad that each day he steps closer to leaning his forehead on his fist and hole punching his brain. They won’t leave him the fuck alone. - “You’re crazy,” he laughs, and Wade just blinks at him. “Wow. Cutting words. Not sure I’ll make it.” “Fucking…lunatic.” Wilson’s gaze flicks to a spot behind Logan’s head. “This has to be the worst degrading porn you’ve ever seen.” Then he’s placing his hands on Logan’s chest and guiding him to lay down. “Nighty night, gramps, we’ll find your viagra in the morning.”

the bathroom stall blues - logan x wade (NSFW)

The one where Logan leans his forehead against Wade's gun, and Wade puts his plan to save the world on hold.

Okay. So, new plan. Find a nice romantic bathroom stall and get his head popped off by Hugh Jackman’s biceps, then save the universe. He had a pocket-sized time machine stuffed in the side of his boot. He could afford to do a little sight-seeing. Wade clicks the safety back on his pistol before holstering the gun. He says sweetly, “just kidding. Maybe I could come with you? Preferably more than once, in all kinds of positions.”

song for the sleepless - logan x wade

The one where Logan and Wade both suffer from nightmares and do their best to help the other through it.

“What was it this time?” He asks, and Wade groans softly, tipping his head back. “Can’t we just have loud sex on the kitchen counter?” He tries. “And wake Blind Al?” Logan mocks. “Do you have a death wish?” “Oh I could finish twice before she even gets her nightie on. Three times when I see her in it.”

heist heist baby - logan x wade

The one where Logan and Wade go undercover as a married couple, and do whatever it takes to avoid detection.

How they were going to find a single USB stick half the size of Logan’s nutsack he had no fucking idea, but first they had to avoid detection, and that might prove more difficult because Wade was not made for high society. He cuts into conversations, eats so many Hors d’Oeuvres Logan thinks he might be sick, actually laughs when he sees a little bowl of caviar with a little spoon to serve with. He slurps the tiny balls off the spoon before putting the spoon back, and Logan’s going to pop a fucking aneurysm. - “I saw this in a movie once,” Wade whispers, before grabbing the front of Logan’s suit and slamming their mouths together.

tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow - wade x logan (NSFW)

The one where Wade gets stuck in a time loop, and he's determined to get Logan out of it alive.

“How many times have we had this conversation?” Logan asks, rubbing a hand over his eyes. Too fucking many, Wade thinks. The table is cool against his skin, and the fork embedded in his hand throbs with a pulsing heat. He thinks he might just stay here for a while, see how the universe kills him like this. Knowing his luck, someone would walk right up and take Logan’s head off, and then he’d have to watch him die, again. Wade loves movies that fuck with time – Days of Future Past is genuinely his favourite X-Men film – but God did it fucking suck to live through one.

that one bruno mars song - logan x wade

The one where Wade asks five times for Logan to marry him, and the one time Logan says yes.

Wade ducks his head into the crook of Logan’s neck, breaths long and deep. It’s warm in the space here, and his nightmare riddled, sleep-plagued mind thinks he’d quite like to move in. “Marry me?” He murmurs, lips pressed to the skin. Logan sighs. “Ask me properly.”

team-ups, and other inconveniences - logan x wade

The one where Logan goes on missions for the X-Men, and some mutant in a red suit keeps showing up and stealing his kills.

“Unlock the chains,” Logan says slowly, barely containing his annoyance. “What’s the magic word?” The merc singsongs. “Blow me.” “That’s not even close.” “Deadpool–“ “Say my name.” Logan blinks. “What?” Deadpool shrugs, throws the key into the air, catches it. He repeats, “say my name.”

arcane

oil slick and bathwater - vi x caitlyn

The one where Caitlyn attempts to wash the darkness from Vi's hair, and from their past.

“You’re half made of oil.” “It adds character.” “It adds dirt.” “I didn’t realise you were a germaphobe.” “We're sharing a bath.” Vi’s response to that is to slide down into the water until she’s fully submerged. Caitlyn laughs. She laughs. After a moment, Vi comes up for air. The shampoo has left her hair, and whilst the black hasn’t completely washed out, scarlet peaks through the void like sunrise, and Vi seems all the brighter for it. She slicks her hair back out of her eyes, and Caitlyn hates how much the make-up smudged around the powder blue really does add character. - Vi cranes her neck to look at her once more. It’s just at the same moment that Caitlyn is pulling the cloth down her neck and over her collarbone. She watches Vi’s gaze catch on the movement, watches her lips slip open. Caitlyn’s hand stills. And then she takes a chance.

[sohannabarberaesque]

Moth Mondays with the Funtastic World of Hanna-Barbera: The Red Max (as per the #4 Crimson Haybaler) per Wacky Races

Setting aside the obnoxious German-accented voice and absurd stunts calling to mind World War I aviation epics, we find perhaps Dick Dastardly’s own worst rival in absurdity having something of a wanderlust-filled side perhaps reflecting on his own Germanic background:

It was a few years ago when I headed to The Original Oktoberfest back in Munich ... and while there are countless imitators worldwide, especially that infamous one from a certain La Crosse, Wisconsin as had to be toned down seriously when things got too obnoxious for even my fellow Wacky Racer, Dick Dastardly, to get caught up in, Munich’s (which originally started as a wedding reception for some Bavarian princess) is the genuine article; make no mistake. And to think such a gigantic beer festival as the Oktoberfest can happen so close to downtown Munich on a field known as the Theresienwiese which otherwise can be said to be fallow most of the year.

But it turned out to be a rather wet, misty early-fall afternoon on “der Wiezn,” as Munichers are fond of referring to the Oktoberfest ground ... and a little on the cool side. Enough to drive me over to the tent section and check out one of the more obscure, smaller even, tents serving the classic Bavarian schtick, as in roast half-chicken with potato pancakes--and we couldn’t forget the rather potent Oktoberfest beer endemic to Munich’s festival of festivals; “when in Rome” and all that. It was around midday, for the most part, and you could get a decent Oktoberfest tent lunch for a decent price, even with the rides area shut down on account of the rain.

Yet I keep getting amazed how it is that, even with the portable heaters brought in, the Oktoberfest tents have managed to avoid serious fires, even the tents of the six major breweries of Munich whose wares are exclusively permitted to be sold on “der Weizn”. Even if the beer gets a little strong ... yet the chicken arrives, dripping in its own roaster juices and having something of an aroma to it rivalled by my great-great-grandmother’s sauerbraten. 

It’s definitely NOT the Colonel Sanders kind, definitely requiring knife and fork to get into the dish ... whose juiciness must be something typically Oktoberfest, bless your slogan-bedecked gingerbread hearts (another Oktoberfest tradition, even if the messages tend to the kitschy and saccharine). And what could be more interesting than to have some of the drippings from the roast chicken serve as a sort of dip for the potato pancakes, rather crispy with a hint of chopped onion?

Once back in the Wiezn, the steady drizzle seemed to keep dampening things to a sort of chill that maybe some coffee could warm further. Which it did, by way of an “old school” confectionery stand legendary for serving typically Bavarian pancakes with plum sauce and whose coffee was said to be an Oktoberfest legend just before the last call for orders. Sometimes, I have to acknowledge, coffee and drizzly afternoons must have been made for each other.

Even absent the traditional lederhosen otherwise seen as Oktoberfest’s official dress, and not being seen as a fool.

“... and that’s the story from The Moth”

(The preceding is an independent fanfic feature having no official connexion or association with The Moth. For more information, please to visit their website ... and tune in to The Moth Radio Hour weekends on your local public radio station; check your local radio listings for the day and time.)