#wade: go take the subway

[sunsburns]

okay but logan taking an interest in neighbor who works in fashion?? he always sees her carrying stacks of magazines, dressed in her chic attire that is sometimes a bit too tight in all the right areas, glasses slipping off her nose, always making calls on that damn phone, and yet he always wishes she looked his way…

oh anon ur cooking here. i think this is what's pulling me out of my writing slump 🥴 (wade breaking the fourth wall, suggestive 16+)

the first time he noticed you, it wasn't even in your building complex, but rather the stairs to the subway station down the street. you were rushing up the steps while he, wade, laura and al were just about to enter. it was al who noticed you first, calling out your name and poking your side with her walking staff.

you shrieked, dropping one of the fabric rolls you had been carrying, a curse at the tip of your tongue before you realized who it was. "al," you sighed, a little relieved, when you saw her and wade, who was dressed in a "i love nyc" t-shirt.

logan, being the gentleman he was, picked up the roll you dropped, handing it back to you. it was then that you looked at him, or well, briefly glanced his way with a quick "thank you" before wade started fucking talking.

that son of a bitch.

he didn't even have the courtesy to introduce the two of you to each other.

it was obvious you were in a rush, lips in a tight smile as you nodded and tried to smile at wade telling you all about how they were about to "hit up" times square.

logan felt bad for you, but only a little bit. the longer you stayed to listen to wade's painful monologue, the more he could look at you. he was a little shameless about it, perhaps not the most gentlemanly thing he could've done, but god you were just a sight for sore eyes.

a pretty thing in a mini skirt despite the cool late september breeze that was starting to kick, white, lace and ruffled. delicate with tall brown leather boots. and a washed-out denim vest you wore as a top, two buttons undone, a little pink bow tied to the pocket. logan didn't know a lot about fashion, but he liked the way clothes looked on you.

and then you were gone, al kicking wade across the shin to shut him the hell up when she realized you were in a rush. she let you go, and you left, quickly trading numbers with laura and without saying much of a goodbye or another glance logan's way.

but he watched you go, watched the way your skirt moved with the wind too.

"yeah, look at it bounce. god, i am no better than any man. " wade hummed, leaning all his weight on logan's side. "i didn't peg you as a creep, honey badger. with the way you were undressing the reader with your eyes, i would've thought you were on a registered sex offender's list."

"shut the fuck up, wade."

logan could hear the way laura snorted, her and al continuing their way down the stairs.

wade held his hands up in surrender before logan could try anything (and by anything, he meant to cut him to pieces. wade can't deal with that right now, the blood would take ages to get off his white shirt). "i'm just saying, after living with us for a few months, i would've thought you'd met her by now."

logan raised his brow, "what's that supposed to mean?"

"i mean, she literally lives across the hall." wade turned his head to the side, pointing his thumb at logan, "he can't possibly be this stupid, right? it's gotta be for the plot to build up tension or something."

from that day on, logan's started to notice you more. not that he was looking for you, he's not that big of a creep. but he's spotted you out the window some days, running down the sidewalk, always in a rush. then he was able to hear the way you slam your door shut when you leave in the mornings or when you get back home.

every single day, you're usually out and about. unless it's a sunday, those are the days you stay in your apartment, sewing and hanging out with blind old al and sometimes even fucking laura. turns out, you were the one who got laura all of those new clothes, made them for her.

jesus christ, how out of the loop was he?

you stood out like a sore thumb, always carrying something. whether it be magazines, sketchbooks, fabric rolls, or bags, you're always struggling to open your door when you get home, keys sometimes slipping from your grasp as you're trying to juggle everything.

one day, logan had come back from a run and spotted you in the hallway. well, he had heard you from floors below and was able to pick up the lingering scent of your perfume by the time he entered the lobby. it took him a bit of courage to walk up the few flights of stairs knowing he'd bump into you.

what the fuck was this?

he was a grown-ass man for god's sake. you had him overthinking and blushing at the mere thought of being in the same space again.

when he saw you in the hallway, you were on the phone, the device tucked between your ear and your shoulder, cursing under your breath as you tried to pick up your keys. you were wearing a black dress that day, a black hat and a big maroon scarf around your neck, "no, emily, don't fucking buy it in that colour. it looks like fucking vomit. i don't care what amy told you, she's basically colour blind-"

you stopped mid-sentence when logan appeared in front of you, grabbing the keys for you. "oh- uh. thanks."

"yeah, no problem."

he noticed your nails and glasses were dark red to match the scarf. lipstick too.

you didn't mean to grow flustered in his presence, he could tell from the way you froze, as if you didn't know what was supposed to happen next. he had disrupted your daily pattern, everything in your life moving constantly and quickly but all of a sudden everything is slower. it left you breathless.

"you're logan, right?"

he furrowed his brows. he hadn't expected you to remember him, nevertheless, remember his name. "yeah."

"wade told me all about you," you said, and your eyes dropped from his face a little, then lower, a smirk not too different from a sly cat's. you were staring shamelessly, eyes following every part and curve of his body, the way his long-sleeve shirt clung to his skin with sweat. "you don't seem austrailan."

logan tried not to groan. the picture of wade's stupid face in his mind now that you've mentioned him. he hated that the two of you seemed close. "i'm canadian."

"aren't you full of surprises?" you laughed, a smooth, teasing sound, and finally pushed the keys into the nob, unlocking the door. you turned, lingering by the door as if you were about to invite him in, but then the voice from your phone was trying to get your attention and you nearly seemed disappointed. "i'll see you around, logan."

and you were gone again.

logan liked to see your different outfits every day, dawning a different style every time you walked out that door. it was like you could never settle for one style, but you managed to look so fucking good in everything and every colour you put on.

he could never get tired of it. never get tired of you.

you and your tiny bottoms that he swore were getting smaller and smaller every day, even though the city grew colder and the days shorter. you and your stupid phone calls that sometimes went on late at night. you and your clothes, every single one different from the last.

you and your sketches, the ones he had started to find loose pages on the floor of the small hallway between your apartments, pretty designs of lingerie on a model that looked a little bit too much like you for it to be a coincidence.

though you never made another attempt to talk to him, you knew he was watching you. but you never chased, your heels were too expensive for that. you were just trying to give him a reason to come on you.

to you**

to come to you.*

sorry. typo.

[caffeineaddictwriter]

NSFW INCORRECT QUOTES WITH WOLVERINE AND DEADPOOL

MINORS PISS OFF

Y/N: *is wearing silk pants* how does this look?

Wade: like it could slip off really easily

Y/N: …

Logan: he ain’t wrong bub

Y/N: *sucking on a popsicle*

Wade: practicing for when Logan gets here?

Y/N: *takes a big ass bite out of the popsicle*

Wade: *scared shitless*

Y/N: *gardening* can you bring me the hoe?

Logan: course one sec bub

*few minutes later*

Logan: here you go.

Y/N: …

Logan: …

Wade: why am I here?

Y/N: why do you let me win when we race up the stairs? You’re the faster one.

Wade: umm, cause you have a cute smile when you win…?

Y/N: he’s just looking at my ass isn’t he

Logan: to be honest I’d do the same bub it’s a fine ass.

Y/N: dom or sub?

Wade: I guess dominoes, don’t really go to subway. I dunno why you’d put them in the same category though.

Logan: you look good in that hoodie

Y/N: you wanna know where else I’d like good?

Logan with zero hesitation: in my bed under me as I pound you

Y/N at the same time: by your side… wait what the fuck did you just say

[some-stars]

@yellowwwcrayon asked for things to be sent to them to cheer them up. so i wrote logan getting jealous over someone flirting with wade, as requested. hope it helps <3

They stop by the diner on the next block the morning after their first night in the new place, a narrow two-bedroom about twenty percent bigger and six blocks further from the subway. By the time the waitress gets them to their table, Wade already has her laughing, surprised and genuine, and the way she locks eyes with him when she pours his coffee is--it's nothing that Logan should feel any way about, but after a thoroughly sleepless night in his own bedroom, alone in bed for the first time in three months, he's given up pretending. It makes him feel a way.

She walks off and Wade doesn't watch her go. "So how'd you sleep last night? Is the luxury of a double bed all to yourself everything you were promised it would be?"

"It was fine," Logan says. The mattress had been an improvement over the pullout couch, at least.

"I starfished so hard," Wade says. "I went full snow angel. It was incredible." He sighs, smiling blissfully. Which is fine. Of course he prefers having his own space.

Wade lists the thrift stores he wants to check for dishes and furniture. Logan nods along and scans the menu for what to suggest to Wade when he inevitably forgets to look at it and the waitress asks what he wants.

She comes back after a couple minutes. "What can I get you guys?"

"Eggs over easy with bacon and home fries," Logan says, handing over his menu.

Wade looks his own up and down, fast enough that he's definitely not actually reading it. "I want. Uh. Logan, what do I want?"

"Waffles," Logan tells him.

"Fantastic choice." Wade gives him a thumbs up. "Waffles please, Emily. Can they come with strawberries and whipped cream?"

"Well..." She smiles at him. "I mean, they don't, but we have strawberries for the fruit salad and whipped cream for sundaes, so I'm sure we can make that happen."

Wade smiles back, bright and genuine. They're both being completely genuine. She's not pretending to be charmed for a bigger tip; she just likes Wade. Logan can't exactly blame her for that. And Wade likes her. It's hard to tell exactly how much, though. He's been in a good mood since Logan woke up.

"Emily," Wade says, "you're an angel. The biblically accurate kind, which is way cooler than a dude in a robe."

Emily giggles like she's recognizing a reference to something. She's good-looking, late twenties, maybe. Black hair in a ponytail and tortoiseshell glasses and fucking besotted with Wade, who may or may not realize he's flirting with her. There's no reason for him not to flirt with her.

Logan doesn't realize he's scowling until she leaves and Wade leans across the table. "What's got your fur all puffed out, kittycat?" he says. "I haven't seen that level of bitch face from you in weeks."

He makes his face go neutral, probably. "Nothing. What were you saying about IKEA?"

"Ridiculously overpriced for the quality, ever since they became a cultural icon. You're literally just paying for the brand at this point."

The food can't take more than ten minutes to arrive, but Emily manages to stop by to refill their coffee twice. By the time she sets Logan's eggs in front of him, she's calling Wade by his name and making some kind of reference to a TV show that apparently went off the air over twenty years ago, which of course Wade understands.

The idea of Wade hitting it off with someone, dating them, finding someone to be serious about again, should make Logan glad for him. God knows the guy deserves it. And the worst part is Logan is glad, it genuinely feels good to see Wade happy and looking comfortable to be out in public without the mask, with someone who clearly really likes him.

It just also feels fucking terrible, for reasons Logan hasn't even had a full day yet to consciously process.

Emily sets Wade's plate down, revealing that the strawberry slices on the waffle have been arranged into a smiley face. Wade claps his hands in delight. Logan's spoon bends in his fist. He puts some food in his mouth without tasting it, because he's genuinely worried he might say something. 

Wade blows a kiss at Emily as she walks backwards away from the table, and Logan makes a noise around his eggs. Wade looks back at him, eyebrows raised.

"Did something go down the wrong pipe, peanut?"

"A little young for you, isn't she?" It sounds stupid coming out of his mouth. He doesn't know why he's saying anything at all. 

Wade doesn't lower his eyebrows. "Thirty-two is pretty solidly in my half-your-age-plus-seven range. Not that you have a leg to stand on. Blind Al isn't even in your range. You can pretty much only date vampires."

"Thirty-two?" Logan says, skeptical. "How do you know?"

"She told me," Wade says. "You were there, looking like she just took a dump in your pina colada. For no apparent reason, since she definitely didn't do that."

Logan's so fucking stupid. "Forget it."

Wade shakes his head. "No, sorry, I'm interested now. It was a joke before, but literally if you had cat ears they'd be flat as hell right now. Tail swishing ominously, puffed up, the whole nine yards. Why are you so pissed someone's being nice to me?"

"I'm not--" 

Wade reaches over and pulls the bent spoon out of Logan's hand. "Sure. Cool as a cucumber, that's you. Seriously, did she do something bad?"

He's frowning, a little, like he's genuinely open to the possibility of the woman he's into having some secret evil tell that only Logan noticed. He always takes Logan so fucking seriously. Nobody's done that since--he can't remember. Since before everything went wrong. 

"She's fine," Logan says. He thinks he sounds mostly normal. "It's fine. Fuck off."

Wade's eyes go cartoonishly wide, and Logan's stomach turns over. "Holy fucking shit are you jealous?"

"Shut the fuck up," Logan says, low and dangerous. Wade's grin practically splits his face in half.

"You're jealous, oh my god. You like me. You have a crush on me, oh my god, this is so fucking cool."

He can't do this. "Go fuck yourself," he snarls, and slides out of the booth and stands up. His face feels hot. He wants to punch Wade, but he wants to get out of here more; he's three long steps away when Wade calls after him.

"Logan, wait!" He sounds urgent. Almost scared, which doesn't make any sense. "It's okay, I'm not--I'm sorry, I'm being a huge asshole. Please don't storm out of our first brunch in the new neighborhood, I'll be too sad to put the receipt in my scrapbook. There'll just be a blank space. It'll be heartbreaking."

Logan's so fucking tired. From not sleeping, but even more from Wade sounding genuinely apologetic, like he thinks he's done something wrong. Logan sighs and turns around. The spoon is spinning back and forth in Wade's fingers. He probably doesn't even know he's fidgeting with it.

"Can you just not fucking joke about it?" he mutters, and sits heavily back down.

"No, I'm not--I mean, it's not--" Wade frowns, pressing his lips together like he wants to say something. 

Logan waits, for lack of any better option.

"I like you too," Wade says. It comes out in a rush, quiet and earnest. "I like you a lot. More than Emily. Was she really flirting with me? I don't think she was flirting with me. Can I come sit on your side, or is that too forward?" His brow furrows, and he leans back, away from Logan. "Not that you're like, required to date me now, just because you have--wow, I am making a lot of assumptions, sorry, it's just kind of nerve-wracking because you haven't said anything or even moved a single muscle in your face and I'm starting to feel like I've drastically misjudged the situation but I can't figure out how and it's making me a little manic."

"Wade," Logan says. Wade's mouth shuts. Something in Logan's chest clenches tight for a second, then flutters open.

He slides over to the inside of the booth, making room.

When Emily comes back with yet more coffee, Logan watches her face fall. She takes a breath and rolls her shoulders back. "How's everything tasting?" she says, with a smile only a little less bright. 

"Fantastic," Wade says. "Are these local strawberries?"

"It's November," she says, "so no."

"Then I must just be tasting the love you put into them," Wade says, squeezing Logan's hand. Logan nudges Wade's foot with his own and smiles down at his plate as Emily laughs. 

"Oh shit, she was flirting with me," Wade hisses once she's gone again. "What the fuck, that never fucking happens! I mean it used to happen constantly but then, you know, Extreme Makeover: Face Edition. Which makes your sudden affection all the more inexplicable, but--gift horse, mouth, et cetera. We should tip her a lot, I think."

"Yeah," Logan agrees. "She's got good taste. Ought to be rewarded."

"Now you're flirting with me?" Wade's voice comes out higher than normal. He coughs. "Tell me your feelings on PDA, I need to know right now immediately."

Wade is staring at his mouth, swaying even further into his space. Logan tries to remember how he felt five hours ago in the pre-dawn dark, alone in his cold too-wide bed, but it's already fuzzed over and distant.

"Go for it," he says, and then he's being kissed. Wade's mouth is sweet with syrup, and pleasantly bitter beneath that. Logan kisses him back, loses track of time for a minute.

When they leave, Wade puts enough cash on the table to cover their bill twice over. Logan adds another ten dollars and his silent, fervent thanks.

--

(okay i did put it on ao3 and it's very slightly tweaked over there)

[readerstories]

When You Touch Me - Wolverine x male reader x Deadpool 9/?

Hello, hello! Real life has been busy, but finally I've been able to sit down and write! *Edit: added some more details and dialogue. (AO3) (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8)

Warnings/tags: male reader, canon-typical violence, enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn

Wordcount: 3256

Summary: You’ve heard many stories about how people met their soulmates. Everyone crazier than the last, ranging from typical meet cutes, meeting with one of them at death's door, in war, meeting at your soulmate's wedding to another, and everything in between and outside of that. You had just never expected to add yours to the crazy list, meeting yours in a fight, only realizing after trying to kill each other for at least half an hour. And you certainly don’t expect to have another.

It's been three weeks since you saw Wade or Logan.

Which you are happy about.

But your body definitely isn’t.

Your joints are aching constantly. Some days it feels like you’ve been thrown into a wall multiple times, oddly not breaking or bruising nothing, but leaving you sore and hurting like a bitch. 

There are also the headaches (something that edges close to a migraine at some points) that have no apparent reason behind them, that leave you grumpy and in a foul mood.

Well, there’s no apparent reason that you want to think about.

You only throw in the towel the day after a particular bad headache that had actually turned into a full migraine.

You had spent all day curled up in bed, for once not happy about the big windows in your apartment. You had thought about curling up in the bathroom with the lights off and heated floor on, but there was no way that would have been comfortable with your aching body. The heat might have been nice, but not the hard tile.

So, you bite the bullet, and go to their apartment. No matter that you’ve only been there once, finding your way there is easy.

You are tempted to drive there, but with your aching body and head you don’t trust yourself behind the wheel or handlebars. 

So the subway and walking it is. That’s not pleasant either, but at least you are not a threat to others. And it’s not like you can teleport. You only stumble once on the way, muttering an apology to the guy you bump into. He sends you a nasty look, but it turns less harsh as he takes in your state, and he mutters a “don’t worry about it” back. 

You hadn’t looked too closely in the mirror that morning, but with the way you are feeling, there’s no way you look your best.

It takes you a good amount of time, but you finally knock at their front door, trying not to sway on your feet. They really should look into doing something with the main entrance to the building, you had managed to slip inside again even in your state. There’s some shuffling behind the door, a muffled “coming” barely reaching your ears. 

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever reaction you are about to get.

Wade, wearing black sweatpants and a pink hello kitty t-shirt, opens the door, freezing with his mouth open as if he was about to say something. His control on the bond to you slips for a moment, you feel the utter confusion before it goes back to its muted state. You snort out a laugh, trying not to wince when that of course, with your luck, pulls on something that hurts; you’re not even sure what.

“Can I come in?”

“You are not our Chinese food.” You expect some sort of joke to follow, but there’s none, just Wade looking you up and down, “You look like shit pookie.” Is what you get instead, making you roll your eyes.

“Yeah, I am fucking aware. Which is why I am here.” It should be annoying how you can fucking feel your shoulders lighten as you stand there, just looking at each other, but all you can feel is relief. 

You swallow, throat dry. “So, can I come in?”

“Um, yeah, sure.” Wade opens the door wider, stepping to the side to let you in. You slowly do so, looking around. You have already been here, but it has been about two months. 

The door clicks shut behind you. Wade doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his eyes on your back as you look over the place.

There’s a couch, a few lounge chairs, a tv. There’s also of course the dining room table that you got stitched up on, chairs surrounding it, several of them having clothes thrown over the backrest. It’s a little messy, but looks mostly clean, except for some weird stains on the floor you do your best to avoid as you step just a little closer to the lounge chairs and couch. You are tempted to sit down, but stop as Logan appears from somewhere further in the apartment. He’s wearing a grey flannel and jeans, looking down at his feet as he walks, chastising the ugly as sin dog as it runs around his legs, but as he looks up, he freezes mid-step.

“Was about to yell that we got company, peanut.” Wade says quietly, calm behind your back as you and Logan stare at each other.

“Uh, yeah, I can see that.” A beat of silence where no one says anything. 

Then the dog, Mary-something or other, (you think), barks loudly, once, before running over to you. You look down at her as she stands on her hind legs, pawing at your pants. That seems to break Wade out of whatever state he was frozen in, as he scoops her up, and starts talking. 

“Good to know we weren't the only ones hurting, for a bit there we almost thought this was some very elaborate prank, or a super shitty version of one. Like Punked, just with writing instead of TV cameras. You held out for a long time, and you didn’t even have another soulmate to lean on. Or, oh! Foursome? Or fourway if you wanna be clean about it.” You lick your lips, taking a deep breath, unsure of what to feel. You want to be annoyed, but there’s no annoyance to be found.

“No.”

“Good to know! Now I’m imagining a fourth though, fun to think about! Who though? Cable? Colossus? Buck? Well, I’ve touched all of them before and got nothing, so unlikely. Who do you think the author would throw in? Maybe Spidey? Andrew Garfield version, hopefully. His hair is almost as great as peanut’s.” You glance over at Logan, tuning out Wade for a moment. There’s a barely there frown on his face as he looks you up and down, taking in the state of you. He looks a lot better than you, normal even, and so does Wade.

“-hurting too. Well, for me more than usual. Wait, does this mean cuddle sessions on the couch?” Wade lets out an excited gasp, and for a moment your mind zeros in on the “more than usual” comment, but Wade just keeps going. “Omg, I’m already imagining it, the greatest cuddle pile to ever exist in this universe! Soft blankets, TV going, some scented candles to really set the mood.” He winks, you scowl. 

You take a few more steps so you can plop down on a lounge chair with a groan, leaning back with your legs spread, hands in your own hair, and close your eyes. There’s a spike of something through your bond that’s gone too quick for you to recognise, but you pay it no mind as you massage your scalp. You are not sure if it’s helping, or if it’s the effects of your body finally being in the same room as your soulmates. All you care about is that your persistent headache is slowly fading, your head hurting less by the second.

“You know, touching not from just yourself would also help.” You swear you hear a wink in Wade’s voice; you are sure if your eyes were open you would have seen it.

“Touch me and I will cut your fingers off.”

“Are you even armed?” Footsteps next to you, and then you get a few pokes by a single finger on the side of your thigh before it connects with a hidden knife sheath.

“What are you doing?” Logan asks from behind you.

“Checking if he’s actually armed, I didn't think putting my hand down his pants would have gone well.” You hum, you should make good on your threat, but find that you can’t be bothered right now, too relieved by the tension in your body easing by the second.

“Would have been your whole arm instead. The close proximity should be enough to make me feel and look less like shit.” You rub your temple, opening your eyes to glance up at Wade who is still standing close, while Logan makes his way over to the couch.

“And what if it isn’t?” Logan asks as he sits down, tilting his head to the side as he takes you in. You roll your shoulders, noting to yourself how they already feel looser, more relaxed, even if it’s only been minutes.

Fucking soulmates.

“We’ll jump off that bridge if we get to it.” Wade laughs, but no one gets to say anything else before they are stopped by the doorbell. This turns out to be the earlier mentioned chinese food. You close your eyes when the smell of it makes your nausea return. You dig your hands into the armrest of the lounge chair.

“Well, we weren’t planning on a dinner guest, but we always order enough food for half an army, since we gotta stay big strong boys, so if you want some there’s plenty to go around. And I’m not just talking about food.” Yet another wink you can hear. You shake your head.

“I’ll hurl, so no thanks.” 

“Hurtful pookie.”

“The food dumbass.” You bring the sleeve of your jacket up to your nose, breathing in the familiar scent of your laundry detergent to focus on something else. You get a few breaths in before there’s a weight in your lap, making you open your eyes and look down. The round eyes of Mary look up at you, her tongue hanging out of her mouth.

“Awwww, she must really like you. She’ll normally beg for food even though she knows she can’t have any. Even if she’s technically indestructible, she will get an upset stomach and shit everywhere if she eats some human foods.” You blink at Wade, who has taken a seat next to Logan and spread out a frankly ridiculous amount of food on the living room table. 

“Indestructible?” Your voice comes out a little muffled from behind your sleeve, but Wade seems to understand you just fine, grinning.

“Ohhh, is it exposition time?” Apparently answering his own question, Wade launches into the story of how they met, how they got Mary Puppins, and apparently saved the universe.

The story is told with a lot of words and gestures, mostly by Wade, though Logan fills in bits and pieces here and there, and sometimes protests when there’s part where Wade is apparently “painting a fucking rosy picture with a lot less guts”.

As Wade talks the nausea slowly dissolves, so you move from holding your sleeve in front of your nose to petting Mary. She doesn’t have much fur, and is still ugly as sin, but she is already growing on you in a weird way. You can see why Wade instantly fell in love, but also why Logan didn’t, at least according to the story Wade tells. 

“-and that’s how this hunk of a man came to live with me and Al.” Wade lets you digest all that they have told as he takes a few big bites of the now cold noodles in front of him. Logan takes a sip of his beer that he had gotten at some point, eyes flicking between you and Wade.

It’s an insane story, and you’re not sure how much of it you believe, but there’s a part that’s missing.

“When did you touch each other?”

“Oh, multiple times. Want me to tell the Honda part all over again? I assure you, it was just as juicy and could have been a lot juicer if Di-”

“No, I mean, when did you realize you were soulmates?”

“Oh! When we got back to this place, and I handed Logan some spare clothes that he could shower.” You tilt your head, then you realise why it happened that late.

“Oh, gloves.”

“Yup! All that touching and handholding, and it was all with gloves. Though his disintegrated alongside his shirt with the ripper, showing off that glorious hairy and sweaty chest and abs, I was still wearing mine. No-one wanted that freak-show.” Logan elbows Wade as your mind goes elsewhere for a moment. You can’t help it, you imagine it for a fleeting second, glancing over Wade and Logan, the latter of whom tilts his head just the teeniest bit to the side. “I didn’t take my gloves off until the safety of home, so we had a nice bonding time in the shitty bathroom. Freaked out Mr. Growly over here, he doesn’t have soulmates in his universe.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“I think I want to live in your universe.” Logan scoffs, taking a drink of his beer.

“Trust me, you don’t.”

“Wait, if you don’t have soulmates, how….?”

“We figured it must have been all that sexy hand holding, our particles getting mixed by the time ripper, and Madonna.”

“What does Mad- You know what, doesn’t matter.” Your shoulders are high, trying to tense, but being closer to your soulmates Wade and Logan are making them more relaxed. It’s an odd combo, making it feel like your shoulders are slowly rolling up and down.

“So you got the kitten claws and kitten ears in your hair, and you got super healing with a side of skin disease.”

“Hardy har, don’t bully me I’ll cum. But something like that, just with a much deeper and so, so tragic backstory. But there has been enough exposition for today, don't you think?”

“Sure, right, whatever. So the two of you saved the fucking universe and got each other in the process, fucking fabulous.” You scrub your hands over your face, before combing through your hair a few times. “Where in the fuck do I fit in in this mess.” You mostly mumble it to yourself, trying to make sense of it all.

“I don’t know, but if you let us, we could figure it out together. Like some weird sort of buddy cop movie, but in an ACAB way.” You snort behind your hands, not being able to help yourself. Wade’s humor has already grown on you.

“Come on, what you’re doing now is just making it fucking worse for yourself, even if you don’t like it.” Logan supplies.

“Yeah no shit, I feel the same way I look.”

“Hot as shit.” Wade winks at you, you roll your eyes.

“Just shit.” 

“Agree to disagree, pookie.” A few moments of silence, where you tilt your head back to stare at the ceiling, take a few deep breaths, and try to not concentrate on how your bonds are practically vibrating with excitement even in their muted states. 

“Soooooo, how are we going to do this?” Wade is, of course, the one to break the silence. 

“Do what?”

“Start of this beautiful journey of loveeee and self healing?” Wade wiggles in his seat, pushing his shoulder into Logan, who rolls his eyes at his antics, but throws an arm around his shoulders.

“Fuck if I know.” A few beats where you try to think, now that you can focus on something else other than pain and nausea. “Regular-ish meetings would probably be good. Try to keep the side-effects, but also the contact, minimal.”

“Hurtful pookie.” Wade says again, but Logan talks before you can respond to him.

“Let’s start with once a week, and if that’s not enough, we’ll try more.” He suggests.

“Feels like I’m starting a god damn drug trial or some bullshit.”

“Trial of love pookie.” You groan as Logan snorts. Wade claps his hands together. “Well, consider this the start of many wonderful nights to come! Wanna watch a movie? Al is still out who the fuck knows where doing fuck knows what (probably coke) for a while, so we got the place to ourselves” You shrug. Might as well, if you are going to be forced to spend time with your soulmates so your body doesn't start to feel like you've been run over by a truck. 

A movie will hopefully keep your mind distracted, it’s not like you need to stare deeply into each other’s eyes, or talk about feelings, for it to work and calm down your body and mind.

Wade puts on a Barbie movie of all things, and begins to yap about the Barbie movie universe, or the BMU. Logan gets up to fetch some popcorn, which you take a few handfuls off as your stomach and body has settled for now. You pet Mary Puppins as you try to pay attention to the movie.

Thirty minutes into the movie, you are out like a light, the relief of your body making you fall asleep where you sit, Mary Puppins resting in your lap with your hand on top of her barely fur-covered head.

—---

When you wake up from your unplanned nap, it’s to your neck hurting from being at an odd angle for way too long. You have no idea what time it is, but it’s dark outside the window, the only light in the room is the rays spilling in from a lamp-post somewhere outside.

Taking stock of your body as you sit up properly, the only thing that aches is your neck and upper shoulders. A blanket that wasn’t there before falls into your lap as you move, Mary Puppins no longer occuping it. You realize that somehow, at some point during your sleep, the sofa, which apparently is a pullout, had been transformed into a bed. 

Which Wade and Logan are currently sleeping on, with a dog bed next to it where Mary Puppins is curled up.

How they had managed to do that without waking you, you don’t know. 

You really must have been exhausted.

You rub both your hands over your face, moving one to your neck to knead at the sore muscle there. You bite your lip to keep in the groan that threatens to slip out, glancing at the bed to make sure neither man wakes.

And then you keep looking.

Logan is on his back, one arm around Wade, whose head rests on his chest. Their legs are intertwined, both of them snoring quietly. They are both wearing shirts, though Logan’s have ridden up to show a hairy happy trail, which disappears underneath the edge of the blanket that covers their lower halves.

They both look surprisingly soft.

You shake your head as soon as that thought appears, banishing it to the darkness of the void. Where in the world did that come from?

That’s not a question you can answer, at least not with something that you will like, so instead you focus your energy on getting up from the chair as quietly as possible.

It must fail somehow though, because as you put the blanket down in the chair and stand up fully, there’s a soft call of your name.

Looking over to the pullout, Logan’s head is raised from the pillow. He’s looking at you, in the limited light it’s hard to tell his expression, but you don’t think he’s scowling.  

You think that’s about to change though.

“See you in a week Logan.” You whisper, and take the few steps needed towards the front door, opening it, and then closing it behind you with the softest click you can manage. 

This time you don’t run, even as much as your brain is screaming for you to do so. 

In the opposite direction of where you are actually going.

[atimesfeeler]

Midnight wip

They met each other’s gaze and for a moment, neither one of them spoke, the space between them thick with tension. The implications of what they did, and the sparse distance between their faces, seemed to catch up with them both.

The subway roared by before they could break it themselves, and before Logan could do something stupid like lean in and kiss him.

The noise startled them both, and Logan realized he still had Wade pinned. He stood up, praying Wade didn’t look down, and offered his hand to him. For a moment, Wade looked up at Logan, half sitting, splayed out on the floor, and Logan almost sank back down again. It was dizzying. The pull. It felt like being drunk and realizing the floor was unstable, only to remember it wasn’t the floor tilting, it was you. Logan felt like that as Wade grabbed his hand and tugged, almost like he was trying to pull Logan down. If he used any more of his strength Logan knew he had, Logan would’ve folded.

But Wade pulled himself to stand as the subway rolled by, taking its bubble of noise with it. Wade shoved his hands into his pockets. Why were Logan’s hands sweaty? Did Wade notice?

The merc whistled, “So… do you have an hourly rate or…?”

Logan snorted and shook his head. “Told ya. Anytime you want.”

“Ah. So you’re a cheap whore. You know, I normally go for a higher standard, but I can see why you’re in such high demand,” Wade started to ramble.

Logan took it upon himself to steer them back home by gripping Wade’s elbow and leading him up the stairs.

“I’m exclusive,” Logan replied.

Wade’s eyes brightened at Logan playing along the bizarre Moulin Rouge scenario Wade was painting.

“Wait, how much am I paying for you to be my exclusive escort? Please tell me you’re not scamming? Playing the game to break this poor man’s heart?”

“Well, if we’re talking rates, my price ‘s pretty cheap,” Logan drawled, “Doing the chores that you’re already supposed to do without my ‘special services’.”

“No, anything but that!”

“Yup, it’s dishes duty, or I’m taking to the streets.”

“You dirty slut!”

“That’s the idea.”

Wade let out a laugh and they were both smiling by the time they reached the surface, the sunrise a pretty pink peach and orange smear across the sky.

“Let’s get ice cream,” Wade said.

“Okay,” said Logan.

[dyns33]

In every universes

I wrote this story after watching Deadpool 3, so spoilers to the few of you who still have to see the movie !

It would have been wonderful to be able to beat all the Deadpools like Wade had tragically lost NicePool in a totally unintentional and not at all pleasant way.

Unfortunately for him and sexy Loggy, the other variants were immortal like them, which explained why they all hide their faces instead of showing their beauty to the whole world.

And so, despite their great slow-motion fight to the music of the divine Madonna, all their enemies got up almost immediately.

"What do we do ? Do we talk to them ? Do we give them the dog ?" Wolverine growled.

"So, first of all, we don't give Mary Puppins to anyone ! Then, I guess they're not as smart and brilliant as me, so even if you show them your dreamy abs, they won't listen. They want money and power, promised by this bald crazy woman, so we have to cut them into small pieces to have time to leave before they regenerate."

"You could lie and say you have a ton of money and can give them more."

"That's hilarious, Logan, but how many times do I have to say I didn't lie ?!"

They probably could have been more concerned about the Deadpools surrounding them, ready to jump on them, or to take care of chasing Cassandra Nova who was soon to destroy this entire universe, then the others, but it was also important that his future best friend understood that he wasn't a liar.

It was very kind of Peter to want to save the day, by arriving with Wade's old costume, which almost suited him, but not really. Some variants seemed touched by his arrival, they also had a Peter. The others didn't give a damn.

On the other hand, Peter being a nice and intelligent guy, with the desire to reform the X Force, he had brought back some gossip. Or he had tried to bring some back, because Collusus and the X-men were busy, Vanessa was at work, Weasel hadn't answered his phone, and Al was still blind.

So, only Y/N had come, probably because she was bored.

Wade had hated Y/N from the moment he met her. He had begged and then threatened Weasel to fire her, but according to his fake friend, she was a great bartender, accountant, manager, and if she also bored him, it was perfect.

According to him, their constant arguments reminded him of how he was with Vanessa at the beginning, only less disgusting. Wade had broken Weasel's nose for saying that.

Because, really ? Him and Y/N ? Ugh. Never. No, sir. Eww. I'd rather die.

Okay, she was cute. Very beautiful even. Sometimes funny. Not as stupid as most people. Not throwing up when he took off his mask, not feeling sorry for him either. Accepting his old job as his desire to change his life. And sometimes offering him a drink, when she knew he was feeling down.

You couldn't really say they were friends. So it was weird to see her here, on this battlefield, when she wasn't a fighter.

"Y/N ! Get out of here, now !"

"Fuck you, Wade, you're not telling me what to do !"

"If you die, Weasel is going to piss me off for months ! Even if I don't kill you, it'll be another me, and he'll blame me, when honestly, that lazy bastard used to manage the bar all by himself before, he… AH ! Canada, why ?!"

"You don't threaten Y/N like that !" yelled the Deadpool who had just shot him in the foot.

"Yeah ! And don't yell at her either !"

"Why does he say we're going to kill her ? Will we ever hurt our Y/N ?"

Wade grimaced as he looked at his variants, not understanding the situation, nor why they had all put away their weapons to admire Y/N as if she were the sun and they were butterflies ready to throw themselves into this immense ball of fire to die in excruciating pain. As lost as he was, Logan still signaled for him to follow him into the subway, because it was an opportunity to move forward.

But it was dangerous to leave Peter and Y/N with all these Deadpools, even if they had just said they weren't going to hurt her. And, wait, their Y/N ? What ?

While he was trying to get his brain working, Kidpool approached her with a slow, almost timid step, while she was the rudest of them all. He looked at her without saying anything, waiting for her to try something.

If she wanted to kill Y/N with a cuddle, it would take time. Unless she had a weak heart for adorable things, like a psychopathic kid sobbing while hugging her.

The others dared to approach too, some patting her shoulders as if to check if she was real. The Samurai Deadpool said a sort of prayer in Japanese, crying like everyone else.

"Um… What's going on ?" Y/N asked, asking the question on everyone's mind.

"We all had our Y/N. The love of our life. And we all lost her…"

"Oh. Wait, the love of your… But, Vanessa ?"

"Who ?"

If Wade had bothered to ask Paradox for explanations, he would have told him that there were certain constants in all universes.

Unchangeable things, which made certain people who they were. For the Deadpools, there was being a mercenary, with a nice tight red suit, katanas and guns, a unique sense of humor. And Y/N.

There were Vanessas in some Deadpools's stories, who had loved her. But she wasn't the most important person. It was always Y/N, before or after. Always.

The problem was that she always died too.

And there was no Cable everywhere, with his time machine, so they had all suffered from this loss as if they were Spiderman, except that they had all tried to kill themselves or everyone else.

But Wade hadn't asked. First, because Paradox was an asshole, who couldn't be trusted. Then, because he had to take care of the Cassandra Nova problem quite urgently.

And finally, him and Y/N ? No, really, he didn't believe it at all. Maybe Vanessa didn't want him anymore, and she had found someone else, but he had done all that for her. The multiverse could send him all the variants, he was not going to change his heart at the end just to follow the canon.

"She seems nice." Logan commented after their magnificent sacrifice full of virility and love, watching Y/N bore members of the TVA with lots of questions. "Why do you hate her ?"

"I didn't say I hate her."

"The grimace and the grunts convinced me, it's true love. In any case, all the other you liked her. They cried as they left, demanding a hug to jump into the hole without resistance."

"They're stupid. I mean, yeah Y/N ​​is cool. She's even great. She may insult me ​​every time we see each other and tell me I should shut up, but she still listens to my bullshit."

"She came to help you."

"She knows my favorite songs."

"She refused to abandon you even though it was dangerous."

"She doesn't ignore my texts. Shit, I know what you're trying to do, multiverse, it's a no !" Wade growled as he got up from the bench, suggesting to Wolverine that they go get something to eat, because with his mouth full, he'd stop playing interdimensional cupid.

It could have worked if he hadn't then offered Logan to become his roommate. In addition to blinding Al. The two quickly ganged up on him on the subject of Y/N.

According to the old woman who had never heard of this barmaid, it was a sign. Because if Wade had told her about her, then she would have felt that something was up, and he had wanted to avoid that.

He tried to defend himself by saying that he wasn't talking about everyone, but Logan contradicted him almost immediately, as if he had known him forever, by showing that Wade talked about everyone, all the time, to criticize them, insult them and make sexual comments.

But if he wasn't talking about someone, then there was something wrong. Especially if he refused to make sexual comments.

"A blind person would see that he was in love. The proof is that I can see it."

"Al, shut up. Logan, stop smiling like an idiot. Now."

"Yeah, I'll smile tonight."

"Tonight ? Why tonight ?" Deadpool panicked, pulling out his gun when he didn't get an answer.

The two traitors had organized a party, to celebrate the saving of the universes and the new roommate that he already regretted, except in the morning, when he could admire Logan coming out of the bathroom shirtless.

Oddly enough, the chosen seating plan had Wade stuck between him and Y/N, who was clearly wondering what she was doing there, having never been invited before.

"We helped a lot !" Peter considered, raising his glass.

"Hmm, I still don't know how. Wade, the others were very strange, but quite nice. We could have swapped, kept them all and sent you to this Vortex thing."

"Haha, so funny, I would have missed you very quickly."

"Yeah, maybe." Y/N mumbled, rolling her eyes before drinking her beer.

Faced with this almost confession of affection, Wade was lost for words. It took Logan giving him a shoulder nudge, pushing him a little towards her, to bring him out of his torpor.

If he agreed to be honest, maybe Wade liked Y/N. No, maybe he had a crush from their first meeting. Maybe he was in love, he would have wanted more.

But after Vanessa, he didn't feel capable of it. He didn't want to suffer again, if she rejected him right away, then if she dumped him. And if she died.

If he believed in the multiverse and its variants, she might die if they were together. The only reason he had a Y/N in his world was probably because he had refused to accept these feelings.

So telling her the truth was losing her soon, condemning her to certain death.

"Your dog loves me a lot." Y/N said, bringing him back to reality, where Dogpool was staring at her with shining eyes. "I had thirty marriage proposals while you were fighting, the Ladypool kissed me, then she fought with the ones who wanted to kiss me, and the cowboy gave me his hat."

"He'll borrow the Spider Cowboy's. They'll go camping together in the mountains."

"Why were they all crying ?"

"Uh, allegies. It's a Deadpool thing, we're allergic to annoying girls, it makes us sneeze and cry."

"I see. You have to take pills then."

"All the time, as soon as I know I'm going to be in the same room as you, otherwise it would be hell. I'd have tears and snot in my mask, it would be impossible to fight. And to clean, can you imagine ?"

"That would be terrible…" she snickered before losing her sweet smile. "You know, it's okay if they were allergic and you're not. I understand. I'm totally allergic to you but I'll find some pills."

Even though the discussions continued around the table, Wade could see out of the corner of his eye the others nodding or trying to communicate with their eyes, to encourage him to answer the right thing.

They didn't realize what they were asking him.

"… Even if I was allergic, it would be very dangerous. Pills are a good idea."

"… Okay. It's too bad, but okay."

"It's better this way. To have a long life."

"What's the point if it's empty ?"

It was late, so Y/N excused herself by saying that she had to go home, not giving him time to react to what she had just said.

Sitting as Peter walked her to the door, he was kicked by Logan. The hairy idiot on his right had had relationships too, before losing everything, and in multiple universes. While he was immortal. Even if Vanessa hadn't broken his heart, she would have died one day while he would have continued to live.

No variant had said how or when they had lost their Y/N. Some had been able to spend years with theirs, happy, important years.

So, damn it, Wade had refused to listen to the TVA about the destruction of his world, he wasn't going to listen to them about his private life either.

"Finally !" Al shouted as he ran down the hall, up the stairs, then down the street, until he caught up with Y/N.

She was crying. Even though she tried to hide it by wiping herself as soon as she realized it was him.

"Allergic to dumb guys ?"

"It seems so."

"I heard that to cure an allergy, you have to spend time with the problem, to get used to it. Be super close, often, and then either it kills you or you stop peeing out your nose."

"Super close how ?"

"Oh, as close as possible. Like, cuddling, swapping saliva, groping, and even sex. Lots of sex, with feelings added, which is the worst STD, but this time it's recommended, and that's good, because I know a dumb but super cool and sexy guy who is also allergic, could you help each other out ?"

"It's Logan I hope."

"… I knew he had to cover up before you got on the subway, it's the abs, right ? You all went crazy over his abs, and I can't even blame you, I dream about it at night and think about it in the shower."

"Well, if he's not available, I'll settle for you then."

"Actually, I was talking about Colossus."

Wade was often asked what could shut him up. He wasn't called the Merc with a Mouth for nothing. Overall, the ways to stop him were in order, kill him, sew his mouth shut, cut his vocal cords, introduce him to Taylor Swift or Spiderman, and have the girl he liked kiss him.

Maybe he tried to talk every time she stopped to breathe again, which allowed him to get his brain working, but as soon as she started devouring his lips again, there was only Y/N.

It was normal that the other Deadpools were so jealous. And Wade was going to do everything not to lose her, unlike them. They would stay together, as long as possible, and maybe longer since he was lucky enough to have met Cable.

[desperatelyneedcoffee]

TW: Rape, sexual assault, scratching and vivid feelings of hands ig

Wade who started having sex a lot because of being raped (this happened several times by several different people at different times). He hasn't fully processed what happened to him and some of it is just a blur from his brain trying to protect him. Other times he remembers every little detail. Some haven't really sunk in yet that it happened. He likes to initiate intimacy with Logan. He doesn't really like initiating it anyway so it works out find. They went out earlier in the day because it wasn't I've of Wade's bad head days. They went on the train/subway or whatever. Wade was wearing black joggers, dark grey hoodie, mask and sunglasses. Logan was wearing his usual stuff. Because the carriage nearly empty they sat with a seat between them so they weren't squashed together in public. They were on their way back home from shopping for random shit. A few people were dotted about. Three woman, obviously in their early to mid twenties, were standing next to a pole. They whispered, snickered and one got thru phone out and pressed record. Another walked up to Wade, he wasn't really pushing attention, just on his phone. The woman held onto the bar above them and swung herself onto his lap. He hair fell to the right side of her face and the left ear to the camera. Wade froze up and stiffened when it happened. She just smiled at him and then the camera. Logan looked up and glared at get and then her friends. (Either Wade or Logan) shoved her off and they got off the train at the next stop. (Maybe Logan broke their phone or some shit and chucked it on the tracks.) They got a taxi home and placed their stuff on the table. Wade was still quiet. That's a bad sign. I mean fair enough he just got sexually assaulted. Wade does whatever and get comfy. Basically, all he can feel are hands and sensations all over his body. He feels like someone's choking him, rubbing their hands up his arms, thighs, waist, tits, ass and dick all at the same time. It's not nice. It won't go away. It's been happening as soon as she landed on him. He feels someone pull on hair on his head that doesn't even exist. Feels someone pinning him by the wrists, his waist, his thighs. Someone's sitting on him. No, they can't be, someone's hands are already there. But there's hands on his neck. His cheek. His ass. They're fucking everywhere. Wade goes for a shower, turns it up as hot as it will go to try and get rid of the feeling. It doesn't work. He tried scratching the feeling off but it's still not going. He's bleeding but the feeling is still there so he must keep going. Are there tears on his face? Is it just the water? Why are people still touching him? By this point he's mumbling. This turns into talking and the volume slowly goes up over a few minutes. The water going down the drain is just red. Wherever he's scratching his healing factor can't keep up which is definitely something. Logan knocks on the door and when there's no reply after several tries, he opens it and just stairs at Wade. He takes his shoes and jacket off but leaves the rest of his clothes on and gets in with Wade. He says his name until he looks up at him. Logan tells him he's going to put his hand out but not touch him. He waits to see if Wade will take his hand and he does. Slowly, he did down on the shower floor and leads Wade down with him. He grabs the bottle of soap and a sponge and asks if he can wash his arm. He does this for every body part but doesn't go near his privates. Eventually, Logan is able to dry Wade, dress him in Logan's PJ's for the scent and they go to the sofa. They cuddle until Wade feels he's ready to talk, write, type what happened. Whether it's paragraphs or just the single word, it still tells Logan what happened. Logan just asks if he can kiss him on the head. Wade nods/types/writes/says yes and Logan does it. He gently kisses him on the side of his head and says something like 'you didn't deserve any of that' or 'none of that way your fault' and they cuddle in silence. Logan holding Wade and Wade limp in his arms.

[dwritesit]

spideypool... peter who cannot stand traffic and hates driving vs wade who doesn't mind sitting in the stop-go-traffic blasting his music contently

- peter, who is so used to swinging through new york, practically scaling the city, that once he actually gets his license (4 years late), sitting in traffic is excruciating. peter "i could be in Brooklyn by now!" parker. if he had to go out as a civie, he preferred the subway even though it could take twice as long

- wade who enjoys actually taking a moment to slow down, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, singing loudly with the windows rolled down. he especially doesnt mind when hes got peter in the passenger seat - he even lets him pick the music (so generous!).

- after a long car ride with baby boy in the driver's side, on the way back from a wayward team-up, peter spewing out a long string of words wade never thought would come out of The Incredible Spiderman's mouth, they dedided wade would be the conductor on all future road trips. peter likes it. a lot.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Iowa's starvation strategy

I don’t really buy that “the cruelty is the point.” I’m a materialist. Money talks, bullshit walks. When billionaires fund unimaginably cruel policies, I think the cruelty is a tactic, a way to get the turkeys to vote for Christmas. After all, policies that grow the fortune of the 1% at the expense of the rest of us have a natural 99% disapproval rating.

If you’d like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here’s a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/19/whats-wrong-with-iowa/#replicable-cruelty

So when some monstrous new law or policy comes down the pike, it’s best understood as a way of getting frightened, angry — and often hateful — people to vote for policies that will actively harm them, by claiming that they will harm others — brown and Black people, women, queers, and the “undeserving” poor.

Pro-oligarch policies don’t win democratic support — but policies that inflict harm a ginned-up group of enemies might. Oligarchs need frightened, hateful people to vote for policies that will secure and expand the power of the rich. Cruelty is the tactic. Power is the strategy. The point isn’t cruelty, it’s power:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/25/roe-v-wade-v-abortion/#no-i-in-uterus

But that doesn’t change the fact that the policies are cruel indeed. Take Iowa, whose billionaire-backed far-right legislature is on a tear, a killing spree that includes active collaboration with rapists, through a law that denies abortion care to survivors of rape and forces them to bear and care for their rapists’ babies:

https://www.nytimes.com/2023/03/16/us/politics/iowa-kamala-harris-abortion.html

The forced birth movement is part of the wider far-right tactic of standing up for imaginary children (e.g. “the unborn,” fictional victims of Hollywood pedo cabals), and utterly abandons real children: poor kids who can’t afford school lunches, kids in cages, kids victimized by youth pastors, kids forced into child labor, etc.

So Iowa isn’t just a forced birth state, it’s a state where children are now to be starved, literally. The state legislature has just authorized an $18m project to kick people off of SNAP (aka food stamps). 270,000 people in Iowa rely on SNAP: elderly people, disabled people, and parents who can’t feed their kids.

Writing in the Washington Post, Kyle Swenson profiles some of these Iowans, like an elderly woman who visited Lisa Spitler’s food pantry for help and said that state officials had told her that she was only eligible for $23/month in assistance:

https://www.washingtonpost.com/dc-md-va/2023/04/16/iowa-snap-restrictions-food-stamps/

That’s because Iowa governor KimReynolds signed a bill cutting the additional SNAP aid — federally funded, and free to the state taxpayers of Iowa — that had been made available during the lockdown. Since then, food pantries have been left to paper over the cracks in the system, as Iowans begin to starve.

Before the pandemic, Spitler’s food pantry saw 30 new families a month. Now it’s 100 — and growing. Many of these families have been kicked off of SNAP because they failed to complete useless and confusing paperwork, or did so but missed the short deadlines now imposed by the state. For example, people with permanent disabilities and elderly people who no longer work must continuously file new paperwork confirming that their income hasn’t changed. Their income never changes.

SNAP recipients often work, borrow from relations, and visit food pantries, and still can’t make ends meet, like Amy Cunningham, a 31 year old mother of four in Charlton. She works at a Subway, has tapped her relatives for all they can afford, and relies on her $594/month in SNAP to keep her kids from going hungry. She missed her notice of an annual review and was kicked off the program. Getting kicked off took an instant. Getting reinstated took a starving eternity.

Iowa has a budget surplus of $1.91B. This doesn’t stop ghouls like Iowa House speaker Pat Grassley (a born-rich nepobaby whose grandpa is Senator Chuck Grassley) from claiming that the cuts were a necessity: “[SNAP is] growing within the budget, and are putting pressure on us being able to fund other priorities.”

Grassley’s caucus passed legislation on Jan 30 to kick people off of SNAP if their combined assets, including their work vehicle, total to more than $15,000. SNAP recipients will be subject to invasive means-testing and verification, which will raise the cost of administering SNAP from $2.2m to $18m. Anyone who gets flagged by the system has 10 days to respond or they’ll be kicked off of SNAP.

The state GOP justifies this by claiming that SNAP has an “error rate” of 11.81%. But that “error rate” includes people who were kicked off SNAP erroneously, a circumstance that is much more common than fraud, which is almost nonexistent in SNAP programs. Iowa’s error rate is in line with the national average.

Iowa’s pro-starvation law was authored by a conservative dark-money “think tank” based in Florida: the Opportunity Solutions Project, the lobbying arm of Foundation For Government Accountability, run by Tarren Bragdon, a Maine politician with a knack for getting money from the Koch Network and the DeVos family for projects that punish, humiliate and kill marginalized people. The Iowa bill mirrors provisions passed in Kentucky, Kansas, Wisconsin and elsewhere — and goes beyond them.

The law was wildly unpopular, but it passed anyway. It’s part of the GOP’s push for massive increases in government spending and bureaucracy — but only when those increases go to punishing poor people, policing poor people, jailing poor people, and spying on poor people. It’s truly amazing that the “party of small government” would increase bureaucratic spending to administer SNAP by 800% — and do it with a straight face.

In his essay “The Utopia of Rules,” David Graeber (Rest in Power) described this pathology: just a couple decades ago, the right told us that our biggest threat was Soviet expansion, which would end the “American way of life” and replace it with a dismal world where you spent endless hours filling in pointless forms, endured hunger and substandard housing, and shopped at identical stores that all carried the same goods:

https://memex.craphound.com/2015/02/02/david-graebers-the-utopia-of-rules-on-technology-stupidity-and-the-secret-joys-of-bureaucracy/

A society that can’t feed, house and educate its residents is a failed state. America’s inability to do politics without giving corporations a fat and undeserved share is immiserating an ever-larger share of its people. Federally, SNAP is under huge stress, thanks to the “public-private partnership” at the root of a badly needed “digital overhaul” of the program.

Writing for The American Prospect, Luke Goldstein describes how the USDA changed SNAP rules to let people pay with SNAP for groceries ordered online, as a way to deal with the growing problem of food deserts in poor and rural communities:

https://prospect.org/health/2023-04-19-retail-surveils-food-stamp-users/

It’s a good idea — in theory. But it was sabotaged from the start: first, the proposed rule was altered to ban paying for delivery costs with SNAP, meaning that anyone who ordered food online would have to use scarce cash reserves to pay delivery fees. Then, the USDA declined to negotiate discounts on behalf of the 40 million SNAP users. Finally, the SNAP ecommerce rules don’t include any privacy protections, which will be a bonanza for shadowy data-brokers, who’ll mine SNAP recipients’ data to create marketing lists for scammers, predatory lenders, and other bottom-feeder:

https://www.democraticmedia.org/sites/default/files/field/public-files/2020/cdd_snap_report_ff.pdf

The GOP’s best weapon in this war is statistical illiteracy. While racist, sexist and queerphobic policies mean that marginalized people are more likely than white people to be poor, America’s large population of white people — including elderly white people who are the immovable core of the GOP base — means that policies that target poor people inevitably inflict vast harms on the GOP’s most devoted followers.

Getting these turkeys to vote for Christmas is a sound investment for the ultra-rich, who claim a larger share of the American pie every year. The rich may or may not be racist, or sexist, or queerphobic — some of them surely are — but the reason they pour money into campaigns to stoke divisions among working people isn’t because they get off on hatred. The hatred is a tactic. The cruelty is a tactic. The strategic goal is wealth and power.

Tomorrow (Apr 21), I’m speaking in Chicago at the Stigler Center’s Antitrust and Competition Conference. This weekend (Apr 22/23), I’m at the LA Times Festival of Books.

[Image ID: The Iowa state-house. On the right side of the steps is an engraved drawing of Oliver Twist, holding out his porridge bowl. On the left side is the cook, denying him an extra portion. Peeking out from behind the dome is a business-man in a suit with a dollar-sign-emblazoned money-bag for a head.]

Image: Iqkotze (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Iowa_State_Capitol_April_2010.jpg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/deed.en

[mynamesaplant]

Yearning for Wood Floors

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Just a little short story about @critterbitter's hc of Elesa. This is not too long after her and her dad immigrated to Unova. Elesa is def not bitter about it, I promise 🤞

I'll probably post this to AO3 and I'll update this when I do.

Enjoy!~

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

The floor was scuffed and dry, practically ancient judging by each crunch that crackled up Elesa’s spine with each step. The varnish looked more like those potato chips that were served in brightly colored bags at lunch. Yellowish, opaque flecks that made the room feel neglected at best and abandoned at worst.

Floors back in Sinnoh never looked like this.

Elesa’s frown deepened as she toed some of the loose chips at her feet, a spray of prehistoric resin sailed across the room. She stifled a sigh. It was kind of sad really. She remembered the wood floor at her cousin’s house, their mom always kept the floors spotless, and whatever cleaner she used made the house smell fresh and clean.

Things weren’t like this back in Sinnoh.

Aunt Johanna, like every other adult in Sinnoh, had everyone take their shoes off at the door. Elesa was used to padding around in her socks or bare feet, but Aunt Johanna bought her little Pachirisu slippers to wear around her house. That had to help keep the floors nice and clean from whatever was being trekked in from outside. It made sense. Meanwhile, Elesa watched the water puddle on the floor at her dad’s feet from his brogues. The rain had soaked into his laces.

That wouldn’t have happened in Sinnoh.

…

She missed the fuzzy Pachirisu slippers at her cousins’ house.

Elesa’s face scrunched up, her mouth thinning as she tried to suppress the flash of anger she felt toward her dad. He and the woman behind the desk were still talking – not that she could hear, she turned her aids off about ten minutes ago when the adults started getting into the paperwork. Even if her aids were on, it’s not like she could understand them. She didn’t understand Galarian.

Another stupid reason to bring her to Unova.

This office – what had her dad called it? – Unovan Disability Services, it seemed like a forgotten department in the government building. Elesa had pressed close to her father as they waded through the subways, up to pavement level, and through the dense crowds to this innocuous building by the harbor. The crowds were loud and made her feel claustrophobic.

There were so many people here compared to Sinnoh.

This woman was their assigned agent, her assigned agent, and she was here to help Elesa navigate this new environment while she learned Galarian. Elesa flicked her eyes up to the metal name plate. Her blue eyes narrowed ever so slightly in her attempt to read. The strokes and dots looked too limited next to the symbols for kanji she was familiar with.

“This is the agent, Talbot-san.”

What was written had to be her name. It had to be. What else could it be? Elesa might know what the letters said Talbot, but that didn’t mean she really grasped their significance. She offered Talbot-san a smile that didn’t really make in past her eyes, which prompted a sympathetic tut from the woman. Probably because she knew Elesa didn’t understand but might have wrongly assumed she was shy or nervous.

Elesa was mad. She didn’t want to be here. She wanted to go home.

She didn’t understand why she couldn’t stay with her mother. Probably because her mother was busy with her work as a ranger. Headquarters deployed her all over the country and sometimes outside it to Fiore or Almia to help teach new rangers or to help with relief efforts after major disasters with displaced people and Pokémon. Elesa wouldn’t be allowed to stay at home alone or to go with her mother due to the nature of her work.

Aunt Johanna, Dawn, and Lucas came over to help them pack. Her dad didn’t even help at all really, Aunt Johanna did most of the work and scolded Elesa when she got frustrated with her dad. Her aunt had sighed and knelt down, lightly gripping her shoulders and giving her a sad smile.

Elesa knew what divorce was, but that wasn’t the hard part. The hard part was understanding why.

“I know you’re upset, but please be patient with your father.”

She wouldn’t understand until later that her dad was heartbroken about his Staraptor. The death of his starter and the divorce with his wife broke him. He needed to start fresh, and Elesa was dragged along for the ride.

Something nudged into her shin, her dad’s work shoes, and she looked up at him. Leaning down, her dad asked Elesa what kind of Pokémon she wanted. That was why they were here after all, to get a starter Pokémon that would be able to assist Elesa on her journey when the time came.

That time couldn’t come soon enough for Elesa.

She had plans to find her way back to Sinnoh no matter what it took.

He kept listing ones she didn’t know. As much as she tried not to let it show, her face screwed up in frustration, because her dad never listened to her. She had a favorite type. His wife knew (her mother had gotten her a novelty pin from the Sunyshore gym giftshop – she treasured that pin). His sister-in-law knew. Why didn’t he?

Why did he drag her here?

She didn’t want to be in Unova.

She missed Sinnoh.

“でんきタイプ.”

Electric.

That’s all she wanted.

Her dad must have conveyed that to Talbot-san because she clapped with delight and brought up a few options for her to pick from. She swiveled her computer monitor toward them. The computer whirred hard enough to be felt through the floorboards, evidently working hard to only show names and no images.

Blitzle

Emolga

Joltik

Tynamo

Elesa just picked the first one, pointing with her finger before returning her gaze to the ground. It didn’t really matter. She always wanted her starter to be a Pachirisu anyway. She stared down at these messy floors, cracked and brittle, and Elesa had to stop the sudden tears that were threatening to drip from the corners of her eyes.

She missed Aunt Johanna. She missed her cousins. She missed Sinnoh.

She missed when her feet didn’t crunch down on hardwood floors like they were browned leaves in the autumn.

[qcomicsy]

Old Deadpool comics are so fun because it's like having this weird close friend group where people kind of all know each other but don't really know each other. Or even like each other that much.

Like Wade has a kind-of-who-knows-at-this-point "Best" friend tech guy who kind of tolerates him and he tolerates that used to be Peter's college classmate. He almost took a gig from Osborn but actually was Bullseye fucking with him in revenge while dressed up in a Clint old suit. He got on a mission with Black Widow. He got beef with Avengers clones to a point the avengers themselves got to be involved. They don't like him he doesn't like them so they both agree to be civil to do the damn mission so everyone can go their own way. He's having a middle age crisis where he kind of wants to quit being a mercenary but he doesn't know yet who the fuck else he could be and all the reasons pointing up to be a hero are wrong and distorted in his own egoistic views.

A hit monkey want to fuckin kill him. The hit monkey doesn't know he's immortal. The hit-monkey never saw him personally but somehow set him up to get his jaw sucker punched by Spider-Man. Which results in the worst team ever for both of them. I sweat to god except from fucking Old man Logan, I've never seen Wade so stressed in working with someone. And while this whole shit storm works, Wade keeps bullshitting about Peter's life being so fucking easy and loved by the public and Peter has to stay there and listen to it. They bump into each other on the subway out of costume and Peter hates him on sight.

Wade doesn't want to be there and the first opportunity to bail on Spider-Man he takes it and Spider-Man on the other hand learns that Deadpool is immortal and kind of gets "Okay what if we let you get shot" and Wade is so offended he starts calling him names.

Wade goes to bother X-Men, X-men tells him to fuck off. Wade considers blowing up X-Men for full two panels. X-Men sends Domino who's kind of one of Wade's friend to fuck with Deadpool, we're convinced by two pages he beat the shit out of her, just to show up on the next pages that he actually made her fall over a bunch of pancakes.

It's so messy, it's so fucking funny because it's not "oh it's this BIG THING" and this "BIG TEAM UP" it's like they're on the same city, they have similar jobs of course they're going to bump on each other.

[delphi-dreamin]

The Locker Room

Delphi finds herself waiting for Beel after fangol practice

Pairing: Beelzebub x Delphi

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: afab!OC, biting, blood (accidental), cunnilingus, vaginal penetration, (lemme know if there's anything else?)

Notes: Listen. Is it 9AM on a Saturday? Yes. Are we horny on main at 9AM on a Saturday? Also yes.

Delphi had already been getting closer with Beelzebub, thanks to having to share a room with him. They shared midnight snacks, stayed up late watching movies and chatting, and a couple of times he even told her about the Celestial Realm.

She starts going to his fangol practices after they make their pact. At first, it’s just fun to learn the sport and figure out what it is that Beel spends most of his time doing when he isn’t at home or out eating. But slowly, Delphi begins to realize that she’s not just watching the game. She’s watching Beel. She’s watching the way his muscles flex under his skin, how light he is on his feet despite being one of the biggest players on the field, watching how the stadium lights catch his hair and make it glow like embers in the night.

She’s flushed by the time she reaches the locker room. Blaming it on the summer heat and the harsh lights on the field, she sticks to the cool of the shadows near the door as Beel’s teammates file out. Most of them barely acknowledge her. Some nod to her, and still others smile and wave as they pass, recognizing her from previous practices. The final player out the door she recognizes as Seir, a fairly good-natured and even-tempered demon who’d never been anything but kind to her.

He gives her a smile as the door closes behind him. “Beelzebub is in the shower. He waited for the rest of us to leave before he went in, so he may be in there a while.”

“Oh,” Delphi sighs, hefting her bag onto her shoulder. “I guess I’ll just head home, then. Thanks, Seir.”

“Oh, you can go in,” the demon amends, a mischievous glint in his sea-green eyes. “Just make sure you’re prepared for the consequences.”

With that cryptic warning, he leaves with a wave, leaving Delphi standing bewildered at the door to the locker room. She isn’t stupid. She has an inkling of what he meant. But since when is Seir her wingman?

She waits until his vibrant red ponytail swishes out of sight and then cracks open the locker room door. As she slides inside, locking the door behind her, she’s met with a wall of steam. It makes it difficult for her to take in a breath, but Delphi continues on, dropping her bag and blazer in Beel’s locker with his as she heads toward the back. One of the showers is still running, the lights still on, and she can hear his music playing over the spray of the water.

As Delphi makes her way to the showers, she realizes she hasn’t really seen this part of the locker room before. Two tiled half-walls run the length of the room, divided into stalls with their own showerheads and curtains. Only the one at the very end is occupied, the steam she’d been wading through emanating from the stall’s entrance. She can see Beel under the spray, the vast expanse of his freckled back visible over the wall. He’s leaning against the wall, holding himself with one hand, his head hanging under the water.

Maybe she’s entranced by the way the water runs down his back in streams, or maybe she’s emboldened by the fact that he doesn’t seem to notice her presence. Maybe she’s just pent up from being alone for almost a year. Whatever the case may be, Delphi finds herself carefully unbuttoning her uniform top and hanging it on a towel hook she passes on her right. She slips off her shoes and unzips her skirt, leaving them both where her skirt falls on the subway tile floor.

Her bra goes next, being draped inelegantly over the wall to her left, then her tights, which she rolls down and steps out of like her shoes. Finally, standing at the entrance to the shower stall in nothing but a pair of white panties, she takes a deep breath and steps in.

“Beel?” she asks, hands coming up to tentatively rest on his hips.

He whips around, eyes wide and teeth bared. But Beel realizes quickly just who had joined him. Looking down at Delphi’s small frame, his jaw goes slack and his pupils blow wide. She’s standing before him in nothing but her panties, a trail of her clothes leading to the shower. Her big violet eyes stare up into his with an expression he recognizes as hunger, her breath coming in shallow pants as she shakes like a leaf.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks roughly, cupping her cheek with one large hand.

She places a hand over his, smiling and replies, “Yes, I’m sure. I’m guessing it hasn’t exactly been easy with me moving into your room.”

His deep chuckle sends a shiver down her spine and makes goosebumps bloom over her skin. He brings his other hand up to her cheek, leaning down to press his lips to hers in a soft kiss. Delphi smiles into it, her pulse quickening as he buries his fingers in her hair. He grips her curls tightly, pulling her head back and nipping at her throat.

Delphi moans as his teeth graze her skin, more goosebumps pebbling her flesh. Beel takes it as encouragement, wrapping one arm around her waist and pulling her flush against him while he continues to kiss and bite at her neck and shoulder.

“Beel,” she gasps as his hard length presses against her stomach. He only grunts in response. Delphi grips his shoulders desperately, repeating louder, “Beel!”

“Hm?”

“Beel, I want you inside me. Now.”

His eyes go wide as he pulls back. He searches her face for any sign of doubt, any hesitation or fear to tell him to stop. He finds none.

“I may not be able to stop once I start,” Beel warns, brows furrowed.

“I have the pact if I really need to stop,” Delphi reminds him, leaning back in his grasp to ghost her fingers over his mark on her belly.

He gives her a pleading look. “I don't want to hurt you.”

Delphi smiles up at him, cupping his freckled cheek in her hand. “You won’t hurt me, Beel. Just go slow.”

He nods slowly and turns to press a lingering kiss into the palm of her hand. Warmth blossoms in Delphi’s chest at the tender gesture, spreading further as he dips down once again to take her lips with his. She isn’t sure if she’s shaking or if he is as he hooks one arm under her thighs and lifts her up, turning off the water with the other before carrying her into the main locker room. Still one-handed, he takes a towel from his locker and spreads it on the bench, then gently lays Delphi down on it.

His eyes are dark as he crouches over her, one large hand on her hip, his thumb brushing the edge of his mark on her stomach. She isn’t sure if it’s the intensity of his gaze or the heat his touch, but it makes her shiver. His hands are rough but soft against her skin as he hooks his thumbs in the waistband of her panties. She bites her lip as he slowly pulls them down, trailing kisses down her stomach as he goes. He pauses at the coarse hair of her mound, smiling and brushing his nose through the curls before continuing on.

A low growl rumbles from his chest as he kisses down her inner thigh and calf, until he reaches her ankle and the white material he was removing from her falls to the floor. Beel shifts to her other leg, dropping sweet kisses and nibbling along the sensitive trail up the inside of her leg. As he reaches the junction between her legs, he lifts them both to rest on his shoulders, looking down at her once again with a question in his dark eyes.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks, rubbing a thumb over her knee. “We can stop now if you aren’t totally sure.”

Delphi smiles, reaching up to pull him to her by the back of his neck. It nearly knocks the wind out of her, the stretch in the backs of her legs as he brings them with him, but she still brings him down to rest his forehead on hers.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” she breathes. “Let me feel you.”

He lets out a strangled groan and captures her lips once more, this time in a scorching kiss that has her gripping his wet hair and rolling her hips. He reaches between them to drag his thick tip through her soaked folds, swallowing down her moans as he presses slowly, carefully into her heat.

Her breath comes in shallow pants as he sinks into her, little by little, filling her more than she thought possible. Against his lips, she moans, “F-fuck, Beel…so good…”

Beel watches, fascinated, as Delphi arches beneath him, jaw slack and flushed from her chest to the tips of her ears. She quivers, tiny whimpers escaping her throat as he finally bottoms out, his hips resting against hers while she adjusts. He thumbs a tear from her lashes, frowning.

“Are you okay?” he asks, strained.

She nods, more tears falling down her pretty cheeks. Delphi pants, “I’m f-fantastic. Gimme another minute before you move, okay?”

Beel hums his acknowledgement as he wipes her tears, dropping his head back down to place a tender kiss on her soft lips. He loves her lips, so warm and responsive against his. Even as he dips his tongue between them, they part for him willingly, her own muscle rising to meet him as he slides over her teeth and the bead of her tongue piercing.

He feels her relax around him, her breathing even out, and he slowly begins to move. It’s just small movements at first, little rolls of his hips into hers that seem to knock the air out of her, then longer, deeper strokes that make his head spin. Beel tries to be good. He tries to move slowly and let the little human beneath him adjust to his size. He tries so hard. But her warm walls squeeze him so tightly, and every thrust feels like heaven, and it takes everything in him to hold back enough to keep from breaking her.

Delphi grips the bench above her head, crying out with each slam of his hips into hers. She thinks she understands now what Seir meant. The Avatar of Gluttony can’t be stopped once he starts, not until he’s satisfied. She basks in his glow as he bites and kisses her neck and shoulders, his rough hands smoothing over her waist and hips. Everywhere he touches burns like the sun, sending ribbons of warmth to the inferno in her core until she feels as though she might explode.

“F-fuck,” she stammers. “Beel, I’m so close--!”

He can feel her walls fluttering around him, feel her tightening as he continues. The feeling of her squeezing him so completely is almost too much for Beel to bear, but he manages.

“Show me,” he grunts into her ear, nipping lightly at the lobe.

“Oh, fuck!” Delphi cries. With one more deep thrust, she comes undone, fire coursing through her veins. Stars burst across her vision and her head spins, white hot pleasure licking at the edges of her mind.

Beel watches her eyes roll back and knuckles go white with her grip on the bench above her head. The cries that fly from her lips are the most beautiful sound he's ever heard, echoing through the empty locker room like a symphony.

He continues on through her orgasm, hitting her deepest sweet spots on every thrust until he feels her clamp down around him again. Her cries increase in pitch and volume as he fucks her through it, feeling his own release approaching fast.

“’M close,” he groans, breath coming in as heavily as if he’d been doing sprints. “I’m so close…where d’you-?”

“Inside,” Delphi breathes before he can finish his question.

With a growl, Beel bites down on her shoulder and releases deep within her. He tries to be careful not to bite too hard, but she feels so good that he isn't quite careful enough. He's dimly aware of the taste of metal on his tongue and warm liquid sliding from the corners of his mouth, but her cries of ecstasy drown out all else.

As they both come back to themselves, panting and breathless, Beel slowly withdraws from her, being as careful as he was before. She lets out a soft whine at the absence when he’s fully out, gasping as she feels his finger wiping away their combined fluids from her sticky entrance. She watches with fascination as he pops the finger in his mouth, eyes rolling back and a groan forming deep in his chest.

Like a man possessed, Beel holds her by her thighs and pulls her down to the end of the bench, her legs still draped over his shoulders. He kneels on the concrete floor and spreads her open with both thumbs, watching as more milky fluid dribbles from her. Without warning, he dives in, licking a stripe from her entrance to her clit and groaning.

Delphi yelps at the sudden contact, trying to squeeze her legs together, but Beel is too strong. He holds her open with ease, continuing his onslaught as she writhes. Occasionally he dips his tongue inside her, curling it just right to hit that sweet spot that makes her see stars and her head go fuzzy.

Feeling her walls fluttering around his tongue, Beel reaches up with one thumb to rub circles around her clit, grinning to himself at her keening cries. It doesn’t take long before she’s gripping his hair tightly and gushing onto his tongue, her juices like nectar as he laps them all up.

Delphi looks down through her haze to see magenta and violet staring back up at her from between her legs. It’s almost enough to send her reeling a fourth time, but she feels well and truly spent. Hand still gripping his hair, she tugs gently, smiling when he gets the hint and finally drops her legs from his shoulders. He pulls her to sitting and wraps his strong arms around her waist, smiling up at her.

“That was incredible,” Delphi murmurs, gripping his freckled cheeks and dipping down to kiss him. She can taste herself on his lips and tongue as they slide against hers, and honestly, she could get used to this.

---

It’s well past dinner by the time they make it home, Delphi asleep on Beel’s back, his jacket draped over her. He can feel all of his brothers’ eyes on him as he carries her silently up to the room that they currently share. Mammon practically seethes from his place on the couch, but Beel just puts a finger to his lips and points to her, grinning as his brother’s face goes redder than he’s seen it in centuries.

Beel lays her down softly in his bed, brushing the hem of her shirt up just a little bit to look at his mark on her navel before covering her with the blankets. He retreats to the door and turns off the light, looking back at her sleeping face one last time before stepping out. He’ll go down and get them some snacks for when she wakes up…

Taglist: @sassykattery @bite-sized-devil @sparkbeast20 @kyungjoon-do @attic-club-sandwich

If you like my work, and would like join my taglist, fill out my form!

[msturtlerabbitk]

Incorrect Quotes from Incorrect Quote Generator

Tessa: Zeus, take out the trash

Zeus: Sure, Tessa, will you go out on a date with me?

...

Carl: I have very high standards

Sharon: I can make waffles

Carl: Oh no! You met all my standards!

...

Tanner: Ok so, apparently the "bad vibes" I've been feeling are actually severe psychological distress.

...

Torstyn: I’m gonna die alone.

Quentin: Torstyn, you’re not gonna die alone.

Torstyn: Tessa, was my safety net, okay? They got married(sure) and now I have to get a snake.

Quentin: Uh-huh. Why is that?

Torstyn: If I’m gonna be an old lonely person, I’m gonna need a thing, you know? A hook. Like that guy in the subway who eats his own face.

Torstyn cont'd: So I figured I’ll be “Crazy Man With A Snake”, you know? Crazy snake man.

Torstyn cont'd: Then I’ll get more snakes, call them my babies. Kids won’t walk past my place, they will run! RUN AWAY FROM CRAZY SNAKE MAN!

...

Wade: I want a birthday cake

Jack: But it's not your birthday?

Wade: The cake won't know!

[spiderculechronicals]

Ok so I can email myself chunks of text instead of typing with my thumbs that's good 👍 Anyway here's that caffeine scene with more to it

“HEY BITCHES… CAFFEINE IS HERE…” Peter 3 called out as he opened the door to Wade’s apartment. He held the drinks-carrier perched high in one hand. “I got a Dr Parker, Just a big black coffee with nothing… aaand… what’s this? Lil’ Petey has a pink drink with an extra shot of vanilla…”

“Oh you are lying!!” Peter 1 gasped, offended. “I said get me whatever!!”

“And this is what you get!! Drink your sugar, bitch!” Peter 3 grinned, handing him the big plastic cup dripping with condensation. “Loveyou Daddykins…”

“Noooo my street cred…” Peter 1 whined weakly, accepting the drink.

“Sorry, it was the closest thing they had to a Capri Sun.”

“Why do you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you, I love you so much!” Peter 3 beamed. “I wanted to get you a cake-pop too but they all looked demented.”

“Why are you even supporting this big conglomerate… that’s not very Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman of you…” Peter 1 snarked.

“We are broke ass bitches and Wade had a giftcard. Sue me. We tipped the balance, don’t worry, peaches.”

“Coffee…” Peter 2 came out of the bedroom and claimed his big paper cup. “Mm. Thanks. Where’s Wade?”

“Chatting with the landlord. S’fine.” Peter 3 waved a hand, unbothered. “He’ll be up soon.”

“What did you get?” Peter 1 asked.

“BabyBoy got a double shot iced latte with oat milk and cold foam… hi spiderpeeps! Just had a good chat with the property manager, he’s totes fine with you three spending as much time as you want here absolutely no conflict there, and he’s gonna send some prospects our way for bigger accommodations.”

“Oat milk and cold foam, huh?” Peter 1 smirked, taking a long swallow of his drink. “Yeah, okay.”

“… ordering oat milk keeps the demand up so they keep providing it…”

“Paying extra for something that should be a default option keeps it inacessable…!”

“How does that even make sense…”

“Alright note to self: no more coffee for Spiders, they get grumpy…” Wade shuffled around Peter 1 and 3 and went to stand by Peter 2.

Peter 2 just stood and watched, occasionally sipping his black coffee.

“Except for you! … you’d have been happy enough if we’d snuck some from a hotel lobby, though…”

“Eh…” Peter 2 shrugged. “Accurate.”

“How’s the recovery?”

“Feeling fine. Won’t make a difference, I’m on time-out anyway…” Peter 2 rolled his eyes (with just a hint of engagement in his neck and shoulders, making Wade smile).

“Ha!... yeaaah, that’s… that’s gotta be rough…”

Peter 2 shrugged. “What’s a couple days next to fifteen years, though, hm? … anyway it’s not a complete ban, I don’t really have anything to complain about.” He chuckled, then sighed and put two fingers to his lips, giving a sharp whistle that made both Peter 1 and 3 jump nearly out of their skins and turn towards him.

“Awww-uh… we weren’t really fighting…” Peter 3 kicked at the floor. “How’s that thing by the way is it bad?”

“No, I love it, shut up.”

“Bitch…” Peter 3 grinned. Peter 1 giggled.

“… How does that argument about the oat milk make sense though…?”

“I dunno, I was just trolling, I heard some high school kid say something like that on the subway last week. Like I almost see what they were getting at, but it puts the responsibility on the consumer in a dumb way, like- what exactly are you supposed to do then? Go Karen on the barista, or just, not order it at all and they stop selling it, period?”

“So you agree with me!”

“You still ordered the most stereotypically gay millennial drink you could. Did you put Splenda in it?”

“No, Splenda hurts my tummy. I was supposed to have the vanilla in mine, actually, but I ordered wrong and then… didn’t want to have them fix it… so I put some of that raw sugar in, but it didn’t dissolve all the way ‘cause of the ice, and the last sip was kinda gross and crunchy…”

Peter 1 giggled and hid his face behind his cup. “Why are you so cute when you’re pathetic?”

Peter 3 grinned, “It’s the Peter Parker charm, and it only works because I really am that awkward…” He laughed.

____

(I'm not fully satisfied with Wade's characterization in this I'll probably spice him up later lol)

(BTW that line about the cake pops makes me die laughing every time and I don't know why)

[dreampedia]

WHERE: abandoned train terminal WHEN: around late july, early august WHO: zeliha turan ( @cfmysteries )

When Mio had set out to explore the abandoned tunnel system that lay beyond the Underground Mall, she hadn't expected the whole place to be quite so wet. She had been trudging through the partly-flooded subway system, in a manner that could only be described as sloshily, for what was starting to feel like an eternity. This estimation had, of course, a great deal more to do with Mio's go-getter impatience than it did the actual length of the place. This whole ordeal had begun, of course, when she'd received a message from a stranger proclaiming to know something of her sister's whereabouts. She'd had her doubts about it, of course, and had immediately regarded this promise with great scrutiny but, because this wasn't the first time this had happened to her since she'd come to this town, she hoped that she may at very least figure out who had been screwing with her all this time. With some strained effort, Mio had deciphered the coordinates she'd been given. This time, she avoided asking anybody for help and shouldered the burden herself. Having finally figured out where to go, at least , she had come to the mall in what she believed to be her most practical outfit (the sports bra, crop-top and leggings combo she used for dance practice, paired with a sturdy hoodie) and set off towards the abandoned train tunnels. And, so, we return to our original point. Urged on only by the seemingly bottomless deposits of her own determination, Mio powered on. Sloshily.

It had not taken her long to notice the rats scurrying along, alongside her and in front of her. Some had taken to higher, dryer ground and were speeding along the raised gutters and ledges that jutted out the tunnel walls, while others splashed busily through the shallows. For the most part, they kept a reasonable distance from Mio. She had started out ignoring them but as soon as she figured she had no clue where she was going and had been overcome with the feeling she might be about to lose herself in an unending labyrinth of tunnels, Mio had reasoned with herself that the rats likely knew where they were going better than she did. They might not lead her anywhere useful but chances were they wouldn't take her to a total dead end. Under her feet, Mio could see the rippling image of the subway track stretching on, waiting for the wheels of a train to run over it and light it with sparks of electricity and grinding metal. The rust caking every steel inch of it promised that this wait would never end. A distorted green light glimmered in the water's reflection and Mio's eyes were drawn upwards to large scrawl of graffiti: EMERGENCY ENTRACE HHER E. The internal translation of these garbled words took a moment or two. Wading through waist-deep waters had a way with scrambling a person's thoughts.

Before her stood the neglected carcass of a disused subway train, its many cars still mostly intact as though frozen in time. It was only the faint coatings of rust and gatherings of moss around the edge of the windows that betrayed the train's age. Mio had believed, for a moment, that the rats had led her to a dead end after all and that she had been foolish to forget they were so much smaller than her, able to slip under the belly of the train without obstruction but, somewhat curiously, the sliding door at the side of the car had been left open. Drawing in a deep breath and pumping a cautious fist by her side in an attempt to steel her nerves and encourage herself, Mio waded through the deep waters until she reached the train. The car itself sat at a tilt, creating an artificial hill for Mio to climb once she got inside but guaranteeing that the entrance itself was close enough to the ground that she could climb up to meet it without too much difficulty. She slipped through the open door and, reunited with dry ground, grew suddenly very aware of how wet her feet were. Her shoes and socks were soaked through and every step through the series of train cars was punctuated with a quiet squelch. It might have been embarrassing had anybody else been around to see or hear her. Instead, she was alone for the very first time, her sole company until now having been the rats who had already moved on. Had the choice to go this alone really been the right one?

She had been all too prepared to slump down to the floor and mope for a while, taking what she might call a well-earned break but, at the last moment, a loose panel in the tunnel walls caught her attention through the door of the very last door. She could have reached it from the outside but she would have to squeeze through the gap between the train and the wall. The old train left a lot to be desired, that was to be sure, and the fabric coating the seats was old and moth-eaten and damp and the smell permeated the air, but she fancied herself lucky the door had been open. She'd never been a fan of cramped spaces. As to why it mattered that she could reach the panel at all, Mio hadn't paid much consideration to that. She was just glad that she could do so with ease. In a place like this, she figured everything was worthy of investigation and especially when she'd been given such vague instructions. Mio stepped through the door and reached over to slide open the panel. It came free without struggle but, as she continued to lean forward, she felt the train shift and creak beneath her feet, the gurgling sound of moving water following soon after. At first, she thought nothing of it, for nothing around her had changed, but when she looked down at her feet and the gap between the lip of the door's entryway and the wall, she could see the very water she'd just escaped shifting as though drawn to life. Mio could have sworn it wasn't quite that deep a minute ago. Stepping away from the window and turning to face the door at the other end of the car, she watched with wide-eyed horror as the water begin to lap at the threshold. The tunnels were filling with water.

Out from the panel a sharp hiss of static like a radio or walkie-talkie. An intercom? For a moment, her heart swelled with hope but it sunk to her gut just as quickly. This place was abandoned and had been for a long time. If there was anybody on the other side of this radio, the chances of which were already slim to none, they'd likely just be another aimless wanderer like her and they'd have no way to help her. But that was still better than nothing. Mio leaned in close, leaning forward on tiptoes and pressing her palms against the tunnel wall, so as to ensure the microphone, wherever it was, would catch her voice. She was unaware of the camera that was also transmitting this less than elegant pose. “Hello? Uh...what do you say into a radio? Roger? Incoming transmission? Houston, we've got a problem?” The nerves were getting to her. She was rambling. And she prone enough to doing that when she was calm. “Uh, whatever, that's not important. I just need to know if anybody else is out there. If you're hearing this, please don't ignore me 'cause, uh...this is weird to say but I think I'm gonna drown? And I think I might be trapped. Honestly, I'm really scared and I don't wanna be on my own right now.”

[bookdragonlibrary]

Elemental analysis

I finally watched this movie and when the first trailer came out, I thought I would dislike it but I was WRONG!

Anyway, some analysis like always because the movie is so cool :)

The first analysis you can make of it it's how it well portrayed racism, but I found another reading: how to make things accessible for disable people.

Follow me on this :)

First, about racism:

Based on the short history lesson we have at the beginning, water people are the first to arrive at Elemental City, making it the most accessible for them (water everywhere) and also, the most racist comments are made by water people (the guy on the train where the couple arrived, the guard at the station, Wade's uncle, etc.). So water people represent the people that "were there first". Not necessarly white people, as Asian people in Asian countries could also be racist to Black and Latinx people. Since they were there first, that also explains why water people seem to be the most welloff of the four people.

Fire people being seen as dangerous by default. What I like about the film is characters (only water people) say fire people are dangerous, but the film shows more scenes of Ember being cautious about not being light off because of water being everywhere (city made by and for water people remember?) than the contrary and she is always precautious to not light a fire (except that one scene when she explodes out of stress in the office). But water, clouds and trees could also be dangerous: floods, tsunami, storms, tornados, thunderstorm, a tree falling on you/your house, etc. And fire could also be beneficial (a fireplace, a spitfire) and create and be useful(glass). The only thing making it possible and safe is the environment and organisation. To compare to our real world, it is more plausible for a person of colour to be killed on the streets by "accident" than white people and white people could also be dangerous or criminal.

Which leads to my second point: disability and accessibility.

Fire people are the last of the four people to have come to Elemental City. The first arrival could have been around where the couple arrive. With the tree guard being unfamiliar to their names and giving them "regular names" instead easier for other people to pronounce. (A lot like when Asian people come to Western place they have to choose a Occidental name easier for the people to pronounce instead of them making this one adaptation for a person who already have their environment completely brand new and unacustomed of or when we translate Asian names because we aren't accustomed to the sounds in their language. A thing that was already done to Native Americans.)

When Ember is older, we see more fire people around in a town that have more accomodations for them (but only in their ghetto) with stone instead of wood and the pipeline being shut down. But the place isn't as well maintained than in other area with the double safe door being broken and out of the knowledge of the responsible company, like in poor areas (where POC and immigrants often live) the infrastructure are often poor maintained as well.

But the City hasn't made the other areas accessible for them (with that skyline subway and waterfall just above their heads) or the behaviour aware of their presence (the ola thing for a minus one). The station where the flower is wasn't made of and thought of to be accessible to fire people. So it was easier for authority to just forbid them to go than make accomodations for them to go in safely. Just like authority forget disable people exist and need accomodations to acess certain things like entring and circulating inside a building or take the subway. And I'm talking of both physical disable people and neurodivergent people who are often overwhelmed or seen as weird in public.

So Elemental City could also being seen as a city for able people (water people), different people who can function in this society (as clouds and trees can function with water) and disable people (fire people) for whom circulating in this city takes a lot of energy, planification (umbrella) and being aware of their environment.

Feel free to tell me your thoughts about this and English isn't my first language so sorry if I was a bit clumsy in my choice of words. Please correct me (and explain me if you have the energy) if I did so.