#i've had enough with my pea brain!!!!

[queenlypirate]

Nighttime routine with a girl and her contracted demon

more about the au in this tag here: https://queenlypirate.tumblr.com/tagged/demon%20chat%20au

also my friend @fragileizywriting has a fic series on ao3!!

[thrumbolt]

So, I cancelled Nyxlin Week and deleted the event blog. Edit to clarify: I DELETED THE BLOG MYSELF! IT WAS NOT TAKEN DOWN BY TUMBLR BECAUSE OBVIOUSLY THERE WAS NOTHING ON THERE THAT WENT AGAINST TOS.

I originally wanted to do this event mainly because me and Copy have a bunch of Nyxlin art planned anyway and that way we could also encourage some more content out of a few other peers.

I expected SOME people to get miffed, maybe some angry anons, some hate posts, because we all know this fandom has lost all its hinges somewhere long ago (if it ever had them) and people are absolutely incapable to just ignore something they don't like. At first we thought a super silly banner might help against that, but clearly that was a big lapse of judgment on my part lol Either way, I wasn't too worried because there's nothing people can really do that bothers me and once the event would roll around everyone would realize there's nothing actually sinister about it, so I figured it would be fine.

What I did not expect, however, was the absolute insane behavior that ended up taking place, where people got targeted and their posts mass reported to take advantage of tumblrs shitty report system over absolutely fucking nothing. People who were not even involved in the event, just happened to write for the same pairing. So let me ask this very plainly: What the fuck is wrong with you? Because something definitely is and I hope you all are getting it checked out.

So I decided to call it quits because people getting hurt over it is obviously not worth it. And again, no wonder this fandom lacks a nice variety of artists who participate in events. What's the point? You canon obsessed pea-brained pearl-clutchers don't understand fan spaces or creativity. All you seem to be here for is virtual signalling, hate, bullying and demonstrating a severe lack of reading comprehension. I've had months of this high school bullshit now and I've really had enough.

I'm still gonna post my art (oh and all that Nyxlin stuff is not going anywhere, don't worry), but I am taking a step back from participating in fandom weeks and fandom discourse and whatnot. You guys can rip each other apart on your own.

[sunshine-sunni]

I've been thinking about pirate!Ghost for the past couple weeks. I needed to get this out now.

-🌤! Tags: Afab, Uncontrollable Horniness, nsfw, age-gap. (early to mid 20s.)

The Sea Dogs were an entire ship full of ragtag men, each with his own story and reasons for joining the crusade across countless seas. Captain John Price, the leader of this crew, was a renowned figure known for his leadership and countless achievements. He had led his crew through years of wear and tear on the unforgiving waves, making their name heard far and wide.

None were as infamous as Ghost, his trusted gunner, known for his quick dagger throws and even quicker shots. A hulking man with a standoffish demeanor and unwavering cautiousness, Ghost never fully showed his face. He wore a black bandana tied around the lower half of his face, with black paint smudged around his eyes, revealing nothing yet leaving his harsh brown orbs to pierce the soul of anyone who stared too long.

To those who did not know him, Ghost was intimidating, deadly, and most of all, someone to avoid. He was fine with this. He relished the benefits his appearance gave him, how people shrank away at the mere sight of him, even from a distance. It made sense–who in their right mind would want to be near a man who had put a bullet through so many men that he couldn't count them all on his fingers?

Ghost was ruthless.

A silent marauder who took what he wanted without a second thought, plundering from men and women alike. Wherever he walked, the bodies and blood of the lives he took at sea seemed to follow. The culprit, his calloused hands bore the weight of his trusted flintlock, a companion who would even accompany him to his very grave.

A dirty bastard indeed.

Too dirty for the likes of you.

You.

You, who he sees, enter the blacksmith's forge. You, who wore a simple white dress with a black corset tied tightly around your waist. You, who smiled so innocently to the islanders as you carried out your chores. Running errands for your father all around the quaint island, carrying a simple woven basket filled with bread and biscuits in your delicate arms.

His mouth runs dry.

Ghost can't take his eyes off you as you walk past him, saying, “hello.” to a nearby merchant. Your sweet voice renders him speechless, drowning out everything else around him. He can’t hear Price bartering anymore. He can’t hear Gaz and Soap ribbing on who can pull in the most lasses. All he can hear is the sound of his heart beating and your brief yet lovely hello. He watches the sway of your hips beneath the fabric of your dress, how your stays lifts your delectable bosom with each breath.

He wants—needs to sink his teeth in you.

Ghost is desperate to touch you, to possess you completely. He craves the feeling of his hands on your skin, his lips ravishing yours as he listens to the sweet moans in his head. He wants nothing more than to thrust himself inside you and claim you as his own, burying his thick cock deep within your weeping pussy.

You’re a real peach. All smiles and fluttering lashes. A young thing, he assumes, based on the way the people dote on you so as you pass by shops, making your way back to your father’s bakery.

He’s an older man, one weathered by storms and battles, which do nothing to deter him from his new conquest. After all, the older the berry, the sweeter the juice.

And Ghost believes himself sweet enough.

Ghost discreetly adjusts the growing bulge in his pants and conceals any weapons he may be carrying.

He couldn't afford to scare off his darling pet.

And with that, Ghost followed after you, a maiden worth more than any treasure.

🌤 I had really bad writers blocked and was unable to write for a while, but this has been floating around in my pea brain for so long, so please enjoy.

P.S. This wasn't proofread.

[muddyorbsblr]

feels like mine pt2

See my full list of works here!

Summary: On the worst day of his life, Tom receives an offer impossible to refuse: getting you back. Well, almost…

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: major character death; possibly a wonky timeline (the math wasn't and still isn't mathing in my pea brain); probably a wonky depiction of soulmates [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: sad meow meow hours

Three days ago…

After a good dozen takes on the same sequence from a variety of angles, Tom finally had a moment to himself, giving his assistant a signal to retrieve his phone so that he could give you a call. You'd been apart for nearly a month at this point and he missed you terribly.

The only remote relief he'd get was hearing your voice as often as he possibly could. You'd tell him all about the plot of the book you were reviewing, or what details you could divulge on the shows you were working on. Considering that you often had ironclad NDAs for them these days, you'd usually tell him of the former as it was less of a minefield.

Once his assistant handed over his phone, however, his heart caught in his throat at the screen that greeted him. Over a dozen missed calls from an unknown number in the last few hours, preceded by a text message from you.

Tom, sweetie, I'm in the hospital. It's no big deal, just a little road accident, don't worry about me. I might not be able to answer your calls for a while, since they're taking me in for surgery in a few minutes. I love you. Always.

With trembling hands, Tom returned the call from the unknown number, his heart so heavy in his chest it was a struggle to even breathe right. The next words felt as if they passed through him in a blur; he could only pick up on bits and pieces from the other end.

Drunk driver. T-bone. Internal bleeding.

And the worst words of all. I'm deeply sorry for your loss.

He took the soonest possible flight back to London, everything around him seemed a blur until he finally got to the home you two shared, his and your mothers waiting for him inside. That was the moment he finally broke, dropping to his knees and breaking out into sobs, the horrible reality cruelly sinking in once he saw their completely distraught faces.

They took your body to be cremated that day, allowing him a few minutes to say goodbye before they began the process. Your mother advised him against looking into the body bag, insisting that he wouldn't want that as his last memory of you, that he should at least get to live on with his final memory of your face being that of the loving, beaming wife he knew and loved.

The next time that you came out, it was in an urn, weighing just about the same as a baby, and he cradled you as such. For the entire car ride back to your home until he settled you in his study.

"We didn't have enough time," he said through his tears, stroking the golden urn as if he was stroking your hair. "We should have had more time."

At that moment, a voice pierced the solemn silence of your home. "I'm sorry for your loss, Thomas."

When Tom turned to see who the unwelcome visitor was, he couldn't find any words to say except one. "Impossible."

"Quite possible, really," Loki shot back, stepping into the study with palms open in a sign to tell your husband that the god meant no harm. "Anything's possible in this multiverse, I'm slowly coming to find. And in that realm of possibility, I have something to offer you."

"All due respect, I want nothing that you can give," Tom declared sullenly. "You can't give me my wife back."

"And what if I said that I can? Well, in a way."

That suddenly got Tom's full attention, placing an arm in front of your urn as if he was still trying to protect you. As if that could really do anything against a god. "I'm listening," he said cautiously.

"I've recently learnt that in every universe, there is an iteration or an echo of me, and a corresponding iteration of Y/N. In this universe, Thomas, you are my echo. In every universe, Y/N's echo is destined to fall in love with mine, and in almost every universe, that love is reciprocated," the god began to explain, creating an illusion with a wave of his hand of your wedding day.

It was nearly enough to mesmerize Tom completely, almost losing himself in the memory. In happier times. "Hang on, what do you mean almost every universe?"

"Ah, yes. That part. Well, you see, Thomas…in the universes where my echo takes on your form, world-famous actor, hordes of adoring men and women and everyone in between at his feet, getting an entire crowd to fall silent with a finger to his lips--"

"I get it, I get it, can we keep it moving, please?"

"Right then. In the universes where my echo is…Tom Hiddleston, while it is a guarantee that Y/N will love Tom, it is not a guarantee that Tom will love Y/N. There are universes where Tom barely even knows of her existence. She's in the hordes, a part of her soul knowing that she's doing exactly what she was designed to do, but confused as to why she feels as if a part of her is missing somehow."

"That's--" Tom's words choked off in a sob at the back of his throat, a new type of sadness overcoming him as he imagined a world where he never even knew you. Never loved you. "That's miserable."

"It is," the god agreed. "My offer to you is that I can reach into one of these universes where her love for you is unreturned, and I can bring her to you. Fulfill what her heart yearns for, and in return, you have an echo of your wife. Have the time that was stolen from you so harshly. So unfairly."

Tom considered the offer carefully, only moments passing before he had his first question. "What of her universe? Her family?"

"In these worlds she doesn't have much of one. For the most part she's alone, and has learnt to fend for herself in lieu of a support system." Both their hearts broke for those iterations of you, the thought of you taking on the world without anyone by your side was nearly enough to bring both men to their knees. "If you were to accept, then it would be a simple enough spell with barely any ripple effect to nullify her existence and memories of her from the minds of those still around to remember her."

Every part of him wanted to jump at the offer. To accept it without thinking. Getting another chance to spend a life with you? There should have been no hesitation at all. Except…

"If she's anything like my Y/N, she'll be smart enough to ask questions. Why her life's different from what she knew before. Whose remains are in the urn in my study. What do I tell her then?"

"That is entirely up to you." Loki's answer was not in the least bit comforting. "You can conjure up a story that she will be inclined to believe, or you can tell her the truth. Alternatively, I can offer you an easier way out of this as well. Surrender your late wife's remains to me and I can keep her somewhere safe. That way you can live on with creating your new life with this echo of your Y/N without being as tethered to your past; after all, if you wish to start this life with her, then she deserves to have you love her to the fullest extent you can afford. She deserves not to be loved half-heartedly by someone still clinging to the ghosts of his past."

Much as he agreed completely with the sentiment, Tom found himself hesitating at the thought of simply surrendering your ashes to the god. He knew what the trade would mean, and that he in turn would have more time with a version of you; however, a part of him still protested.

For would this not be a dishonor to your memory? To simply let go of you and the time he'd gotten to know you and fall in love with you in exchange for something that might not even live up to his memory of you?

And on the other hand, he thought about the version of you that was doomed to live your life with an unrequited love. The knowledge that your souls were only partly intertwined in that world had him hurt for that iteration of you. You did deserve to be loved with the same magnitude that you gave love. And if he could give that to you, then the only way that he could do so was to accept that this wouldn't be a life wherein he picked up where you and he left off. He would be building something new entirely.

It was a near impossible choice. But ultimately he knew which way he would go.

Loki's offer meant more time with you. It meant having you again. Even if it was an echo of you. At its core, it was still you.

Right?

"What would you do?" he asked the god.

"If I lost my Y/N? I'd turn the multiverse inside out to have her again. Rearrange the Realms itself until she was by my side." He paced the room as he continued his answer. "Any version of her." A smirk tugged at the onyx-haired man's mouth before tilting up his chin, assuming an all-knowing stance. "But seeing as you are an echo of me, you already knew that this was the answer, didn't you? You simply needed to hear it outside of your own thoughts. Solidify your decision."

Tom could only nod, the depth of the situation still tremendously lost on him. All he knew was that if he did this, he would have you back.

He placed your urn on the desk, pushing it towards Loki. "What do I do now?"

The god held out his hand. "Firstly, your wife's ring. I'll need it when I find an echo of her that leads her life all alone. It will be her first tie to this universe. Your universe." Tom placed your wedding ring into his hand. "Secondly, you grieve. You've suffered a great loss, and what I am to do is not a replacement of your late wife, and should not be treated as such. Mourn your loss for the next day. Then after tomorrow night, go about your morning routinely, as if she were alive."

Tom nodded again. "How will I know that it worked?"

Loki only shrugged at the actor. "Have faith. Faith that you'll see your wife again the morning after next."

With that, the god disappeared, taking both your remains and your wedding ring with him. And Tom heeded the advice, crawling into the bed you shared with him, all the memories of the life you built together and the possibilities of the life you were yet to build overwhelming him. The weight of your lost future all but crushing his heart into a million pieces.

And he wept himself to sleep.

Today…

On the second morning after Loki's offer, Tom rose from your shared bed and listened to the god's instructions from days before. He laced his shoes up, went on his usual morning run, changed into business casual attire as if he was scheduled for a Zoom call in a short while, and proceeded to start preparing a breakfast for two.

Once he had coffee brewing, he started preparing a lavish breakfast for you two to share, starting with a fruit platter. "Have faith," he whispered to himself, making the last second decision to make it a touch more decadent with a small bowl of Nutella to dip the fruit into.

If this truly was going to work, he would spoil you at every turn moving forward. Never another minute squandered, nor another craving denied.

"Have faith," he whispered again, putting on an apron to prevent any spills from ruining his white dress shirt and proceeding to slice up the fruit.

Then he heard the bedroom door open. And for the first time in days he felt the tiniest glimmer of hope.

He waited until you made your way down the stairs, fighting every urge to meet you halfway and take you into his arms. He knew you needed to acclimate into this life you'd been suddenly thrust into; Loki had done his part, now it was his turn to ease you into your new reality.

Your footsteps got closer and closer until finally they stopped just outside the kitchen area. That was the only time Tom allowed himself to turn around and look at you, relief flooding his system once he laid his eyes on you. In the silk navy blue nightgown, wearing your wedding ring.

He finally felt like he could breathe again.

"Good morning, sweetheart."

A/N: *peeks from the corner* I promised I'd have a sequel for 'feels like mine' up, and here it issssss 🫡 This isn't 'sworn fealty' after all 🤣 (in all seriousness though I will be working on a sequel to that I just have 0 idea when)

And technically this isn't a sequel but more of a prequel to part 1…all I can promise you is that there is a part 3 and it's spicy 😳👀 Dunno when that'll be out tho because I'll be returning to the requests pile but we'll see where the vibe takes me

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemis @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified

[glittter-skeleton]

Reading the Ninth doctor comics and having a blast. The art style is rough for the first few issues but it gets better))

It’s just everything I want for them!!!!

Sorry it’s in Russian I was reading it that way and am way too lazy to go back now. I translated it tho!

*cough cough* I think I should thank you Doctor

You could. I had nothing to do with it tho

R: I though I'd never see you again. J: Wow! I'm happy to see you too, love! D: "Oh hi, Doctor. Long time no see, Doctor”

Doctor and Jack flirting cuz I said so

D: You were in the vortex with no TARDIS. No one's supposed to do that. But You're fine. J: Exempt for your wrist

And this pose is so cute they care for her SOOO MUCH!!!!

J: The TARDIS is not for sale! J: You peas in a pot. Doctor, enough! D: Enough? Rose, I'm just getting started

Get their asses, Rose, please

Just loved the silly Rose pose

J: Oh what a cutie. We haven't been introduced. D: Allow me. Captain Jack Harkness. Superpowers: flirting and... that's it, I suppose.

Arnora, mother supreme tried to get into my brain but gave up on that. Her best choice so far. Here, I've introduced you, I'll go get Rose

And I’m definitely reaching but the doctor getting jealous of Jack anyone?

And just…. Them BOTH being there!!!,

[0junemeatcleaver0]

june you gifted us with meta on marius's virginity, can you also expound on ancient roman perceptions of penis size and what effects what he's packing would have on his Issues™ and perceptions of self?

I am SO glad you asked.

Between having my ass whooped by allergies and dealing with other household irl stuff, I can't dedicate the time to source gathering that I would typically like. And so my citations for this one are gonna have to look something like:

[1] trust me, bro [2] google will show you many fluff pieces like this so that you know this idea has been floating around in the ether for quite some time [3] i've seen even the people who hate my guts for being pretentious and too academic site this same idea so either we're both wrong or both right and they're just gonna have to try to live with that fact 🤷‍

Like most other things to do with sex and the human body, the Romans had some odd ideas about penis size. Specifically the idea that the size of one's member was a reflection of one's intellect and civility.

If a man was blessed with a small penis, he was thought to be intelligent and in control of himself and his desires. If, on the other hand, he was cursed with a large penis, he was thought to be slow-witted and barbaric.

In terms of Marius and his virginity and his sense of self re: his place in society, we have three options, really:

One: He has an average sized dick for the time and so he'd feel much the same as most men of his time. Two: He had a small dick and was quite proud of it. Three: He had a large dick and was ashamed of it.

Option One This option is beyond boring and we will now disregard it wholesale. This option is dead to me.

Option Two I think it would be a bittersweet tragedy for Marius if he had a small dick and it just did not matter. Just like his mother dying in childbirth before she could be freed (thus freeing him, too), or being born to a wealthy father while not being able to rise through the social ranks of Rome, or knowing, doing, and saying all the right things but never getting the same respect as a Full Roman Man™️...there is something so perfect about Marius having a tiny, perfect penis that no one will let him use on them because he's just such an off-putting weirdo.

Just imagine him strutting proudly through the bathhouse, head held high, ready and waiting for congratulations on his itty-bitty pretty cock and it just never comes because no one wants to bother with the guy who constantly corrects the historical record at dinner parties or spends most of his time at the function scribbling down what you and your buddies are doing and saying instead of getting drunk and joining in on the fun.

Who cares that it's the most glorious micropenis you've ever seen?? Complimenting it means you'd have to speak to it's owner and you'd rather eat ever terracotta chamber pot for sale in the market.

Option Three This is my favorite one. Because by modern values, it reads as an embarrassment of riches. The idea of the most 'rational' and 'controlled' of Anne's characters being seen in his own time as being a pea-brained moron incapable of subduing his carnal desires because he's forced to slang horse cock through the bathhouse is just fucking perfect to me.

Marius' family would have been wealthy enough to have their own bath at home, but going to the bathhouse was an important social event. This probably became a dilemma for a young Marius.

As outlined in my character study, I believe the text supports the idea that Marius was the youngest of the sons. It doesn't take much for me to be able to imagine his older brothers giving him shit for having such a large penis. I also imagine Marius at first being very wounded by this teasing. Then furious. Then being smart enough to know he can't afford to have an outburst and risk proving the rumors of those with his affliction correct. And then rationalizing it as his brothers are liars--they're giving him a hard time. They probably were blessed with tiny penises because they're all full blooded Roman men. And Marius, well. His penis is probably more on the average side. It would have been tiny like his brothers' if it weren't for the blood of his wild Keltoi mother, you see. And that's not ideal, obviously. He'd rather have a tiny cock--the tiniest!--but average isn't as bad as the alternative.

And then the potential mortification of going the the public bathhouse for the first time and realizing that his brothers were not exaggerating. And the men all having a good laugh about it because he's still young and growing. "My son Sextus had the feet of a Gígas when he was your age. Now, they look like the feet of any man. You shall grow into it." "Certainly. With my son, it was his hands." "And mine, his nose."

And so it went. Each year deeper into puberty, his body growing longer and leaner. Marius growing taller than the boys and indeed most of the men around him. And the whole time, his dick growing right along with the rest of him. Slowly, as the years go on, the reassurances dry up. No more talk of feet and hands and noses. No more laughter and friendly slaps on the shoulder. Just averted eyes and hushed whispers as soon as his back is turned.

Yet another reason he feels such a desperate need to constantly prove himself.

[in-ghost-we-trust]

No dew on the morning grass

Chapter 2

Dewdrop x reader

Rain x reader???

A rewrite of twilight new moon

When dew left you crumbled into pieces, you've blocked out everyone

Rain = jacob???

Swiss = mike???

Also so very sorry this is so bad I'm on my phone not my computer, I haven't used my phone to post somthing on tumblr in years and I've completely forgot how to find bold and italics so pleaseeee don't judge I'm working with what I got

You haven't left your room in days, why should you? He's left and there's nothing else for you out of this room. When you do let yourself think, you realize that it sounds mean seeing how you have the rest of your friends, rain primaril. He was your best friend since he was summoned, you"ve been to peas in a pod ever since.

The first couple of days you didn't leave your room, he'd tried and tried to get in or you to come out, just anything, somthing. After you never did he would sit outside your door and tell you about his day, any stunts swiss pulled, mountains new flower beds for spring. He'd never get a reply but he could hear you shuffle out of bed to sit on the other side of the door, head pressed to the cool wood. You listened to him, took everything in. Anything he told you, you'd think about it when your mind wasnt on dew. As much as you wanted to open up that door and see rain, as much as you wanted his embrace, his familiar face, his safety, you couldn't bring yourself to open it. Your room was your salvation, no questions, no looks, you could just sleep, forget or dive into your grief, make yourself feel all the pain again and again. The pain was the only reminder that he was real, when mountain brought you back the pictures you had hanging from a line of fairy lights were gone, the blanket he got you for Christmas? Gone. All the shells he had dived into the lake by the abbey for you? Gone. It was as if wherever he had gone he had tied strings to anything that would directly remind you of him and tied them to himself and walked away.

You were in your bed when you heard it, the lock of your door being wiggled and a soft click, you weren't facing the door, you couldn't see who was comming in. Did you even want to look? You shut your eyes praying whoever this was would think you were asleep. A soft creak at the end of your bed sent a shiver down your spine, it didn't cross your mind it might be a creep or a werido until then. Staying still you heard soft foot steps and some rustling next to you. Your bed was about four feet from the window, you and dew had picked out a rocking chair when you both decided which one of your rooms to stay in when you became a couple. You hear it quietly creak like someone was sitting in it and rocking back and forth. A hand brushed stray pieces of hair away from your forehead, you fought the instinct to shoot your eyes open. The hand was cool and remind you of the smoothness of a rock. The hand left your skin and footsteps lead to the bathroom, the sound of water and more creaks towards you sounded in your ears. Your arm is lifted and a cold rag ran over it, you haven't even noticed you were burning hot, the rag moved to your other arm and the sheets you had covering you were moved away and you could feel the coolness of water run over your legs and stop just above your knee, at least whoever this is, is respectful. You heard a little drip drop of water and felt wetness on your face, gentle and safe, like you would wash a small child after they fell off their bike in the mud. It leaves your face and you don't feel anything else until a small part of your hair is moved, like someone trying to play with it. The rocking chair creeks and sounds like it is being pulled closer to the bed more than the window. You buck up enough to open your eye enough to look asleep and to see whoever it was.

Rain sat there looking at you, fingers fidgeting with the tips of your hair. You shut your one eye again. You relax a little bit but your brain starts to wonder. How long has he been doing this? How did you never notice? You decide to flip on your stomach to face him more, you feel his hands snatch away and a sharp intake of breath. You pretend to mumble somthing. You hear a shaky exhale and him starting to talk "I couldn't sleep again, swiss thinks it's werid for me to be here but I have to know your okay, I miss you so much ______ I mean everyone does but everyone has someone else" your stomach drops "cumulus and cirrus and sunshine, aether and swiss, mountains always been more to himself but me? I don't have you anymore" you feel like crying, you've been so caught up with your own heartache you've caused one "whenever you're okay and come back, I'll be there, as much as you need me" thank satan you had your eyes closed because if not tears would have been running down your face. You don't know what to do, you feel you have to do somthing. You "mumble" in your "sleep" again and stretch a arm out from under your head and let it flop on the arm of the rocking chair. You feel his hand take yours, it was a awkward angle but it was nice to feel his skin on your own. "I miss you so much _____" he whispers and traces your hand with his index finger. You actually do start to fall asleep with his voice as a lullaby. When you wake he's not there, your door is locked and there's no rag by your bed, no water, the rocking chair back in its spot. No evidence of him, just like dew.

Thanks to @the-fem1n1ne-urge for commenting, it really gave me motivation to write

Also sorry for no word count I'm writing this in tumblr and not my normal word docs

[bite-sized-devil]

hi sweet pea!! For the headcanon meme I’m thinking Asmo? (Yes he’s all I’ve thought about this week I can’t help it anymore 💀)

∇ - old age/aging headcanon

☠ - angry/violent headcanon

✿ - Sex headcanon

I hope you enjoy your days off!! 💛

Max my darling, I'm so sorry this took me so long. I have no excuses besides the obvious, I suck! 😭😭 I hope you like it! 🌻🌻

Warning: 18+ content below MDNI. I did try to keep the sex headcanon gender neutral for both Asmo and MC. Also consensual recording obviously. (I heard you the other day random anon with your clit and pussy Asmo so hopefully you can enjoy this too 💕)

Character Headcanons

Asmodeus:

Old age/aging headcanon:

Watching you grow old has been a privilege. He's loved every second of it. You are just as beautiful to him now as the day you met all those years ago.

He loves running his fingers through the streaks of grey in your hair. Kissing the wrinkles around your eyes, proof to him that he's made you laugh and kept you smiling your long life together.

If he could have had you for an eternity he would have, but he wouldn't trade the life he had with you for anything. Your soul will return to his in your next life, of that he is sure. He's been alive for a millenia, he can wait for you again.

Angry/violent headcanon:

"Holy shit, holy SHIT!" Mammon cries as he rushes into your room, slamming and locking the door behind him. "I've never seen him this mad before! MC please, ya gotta hide me!"

Mammon is frantically opening up your cupboard doors and throwing your clothes onto floor. Yes like that's not an obvious enough hiding spot.

"Mams what is-!" you're about to ask him what is going on, trying to pull him back out of the closet when you're cut off by the sound of your bedroom door getting blown off its hinges and smashing to floor.

It's Asmo standing in your doorway, looking deadly in his demon form. Gorgeous as always but the air around him is thick with fury. The look he's giving mammon would kill you out right if he was directing it at you. Speaking of Mammon, he's currently trying to shield himself with your body. Typical.

"MAMMON! THAT WAS LIMITED EDITION YOU IDIOT... Oh hi MC darling, you look absolutely radiant today... DOES YOUR PEA SIZED BRAIN EVEN COMPREHEND THE MEANING OF THOSE WORDS? THERE ARE ONLY THREE IN EXISTENCE!!" He pauses in the middle of his yelling to acknowledgement your presence in the room before continuing his tirade of abuse.

Mammon is quaking behind you, the fact that he isn't trying to speak up for himself, even at the dig at his intelligence, tells you everything you need to know.

"Asmo, STOP!" You command, you hate using your pact on Asmo this way but you have too protect Mammon, and your room!

Sex headcanon:

A delicate hand has a firm hold on your chin making it impossible to look anywhere but forward. The big lens in front of you recording every little squirm and wiggle you make while trapped in your partner's arms.

"Look at the camera baby, don't be scared." Asmo's soft voice caresses the shell of your ear causing a shiver to run up your spine.

"I-I'm not." You stutter in response, a fresh blush blooming on your cheeks. You're not scared, you're just nervous about the camera. It's the first time you've been filmed like this; fully naked while being pleasured by your lover.

You feel the answering chuckle against your shoulder in between kisses so sweet you feel like melting into a puddle.

The hand not gripping your chin has been slipping down your shirtless torso so slow it's like torture. You can't stop a high-pitched whine escaping your lips as asmo's fingers slide down your hip and caress your inner thigh.

"P-pleeease Asmo-aahhhh." Your plea turns to a moan of pleasure. Those pretty, expert fingers have finally made their way to your sex. One of your hands fists those rose gold locks as you try and ground yourself, those soft fingers making you feel like your floating away.

"Be a dear and cum for the camera baby, need to show you how beautiful you look when you come undone under my touch."

Hope you liked reading this as much as I did writing it! I haven't written for Asmo in a while besides script fics so this was nice. I love my pretty baby <3 <3

[dollivication]

To 🦈 and 🌀: <33 thank you both, I'll be sure to treat your brains with care, only the best for them.

To Dollie ❤️: I've had sea shanties stuck in my head for the past week, do you have any pirate AUs in that lovely mind of yours?

ALSO I saw a Wesker mention from 🌀 and I'd have to say, despite not playing re5 (the ps3 controls are so tanky 😞) or re1, I'd gnaw on that man like a dog with a bone

SEA SHANTIES… i love drunken sailor (IT JUST GOES HARD I HAVE NO EXPLANATION LMFAO) and my jolly sailor bold so badly….

cw: violence, obsessive behaviors, mentioned non-con but nothing actually explicit

pirate aus…. fawk… headscratchh…. well i always liked the thought of laik.. childhood friends with leon; ur royalty, he’s a boy from a poor background. you guys were laik 2 peas in a pod! but ur parents (king and queen) strong advised that you stop talking to him! he’s a commoner after all. and you can’t rlly go against ur mom or dad :( so yu switch up and tell leon that you didn’t want him around you anymore, that he’s a peasant and you could never be friends with someone as dirty as him!

leon ofc is fucking HURTING. he doesn’t wanna believe that his bsf just suddenly started hating him?? he was literally so whipped by you, and now you’re just being a dick? that just wasn’t like you… but he did as you told him to and he stopped coming by. as the years passed, your head was filled more with royal concerns and you damn well near forgot about leon!

leon never forgot about you though. while you two spent those years apart, getting older, he became meaner. your words really got to him, because now? there was a threat to your people. a pirate captain and his crew, targeting the already small population of your kingdom. the king and queen were doing their best to ward them off, but what could rlly be done at that point?

your mom and dad, as mentioned before, weren’t all that kind to those with a lower status :/… leon had used this to his advantage and got together with all of those who had been wronged by the royal family. and that number was enough to hold off against literal soldiers like jfc…

of course, leon and his crew arrive and start fucking everything up. burning down houses, robberies, literal manslaughter. you could only watch as your mom and dad panic abt wtf to do. your dad’s men are dropping like flies, because pirates play dirty whilst knights play with honor. it’s a fucking bloody mess (◞‸◟)

it doesn’t take long before the pirates get to the actual castle. king and queen are quickly taken care of, now the only one left is you. but you aren’t hurt yet—held still by other pirates, yes, but you haven’t gotten stabbed like some unlucky people. and then u have the (not so) great pleasure of meeting the captain himself :3

leon’s mocking ur confused expression, jeering at how scared you look. considering you’ve completely fuckin forgot this guy you demand to know who he is—to which leon haaaappily reminds u abt the friendship you two used to have before you just poured it down the drain.

“you didn’t love then me because i was no one, but now, you’ll love me because i’m someone” is basically what he tells u. he was no longer poor, considering all the shit he’s robbed, and now that he actually has a reputation compared to his past self. and now that the people who told you to stay away from him are now gone, he was happily going to make up for lost time with you, whether you liked it or not.

JSJSJFGTHIS IS PROBABLY REALLY UHMM CLICHE, sososoery if u were hoping for something different jsjskdf..</3 i guess a summary would just be yan!childhood friend!pirate!leawn…. and i’d also like 2 add he’d probably non-con u… saur..

[cherrygorilla]

Ethan's Basic Info

Name: Ethan Dombrowski

Ok, I both did and didn't struggle with coming up with potential faceclaims for Ethan. I had no idea where to even start with looking for faceclaims for him for specific decades - I just don't think that I have that broad of a knowledge of actors lol. So, instead, I've split it into actors who I think capture more of how I imagine his physical appearance to be (Heath Ledger & Johnny Depp - both mostly for the hair, let's be real haha), and actors who I think could really capture the lovably chaotic vibe he brings to the table (Matthew Lillard & Milo Manheim). Unconventional - but then again, so is he, so I think it works lmao.

Nicknames: As much as he loves to dish nicknames out to other people, he's never really been given one himself. I mean, his parents didn't even think to give him a middle name - expecting them to be creative enough to come up with a nickname was a bit of a stretch. He would get called his surname in school quite a bit (mostly if he was getting in trouble), but other than that he usually just gets 'Ethan'. If anything, I think his abundance of nicknames for others is just making up for the lack of his own. I like to think he's just waiting for the right person to come along and drop one on him though hehe.

Age: 20

Date of Birth: 4th of April (which is very helpful for him, because 4.4.44 is a ridiculously easy birthday for his pea-sized brain to remember)

Zodiac: Aries

Birthstone: Diamond

Nationality: American and Polish

Sexuality: He doesn't care about labels - he'll sleep with anyone that breathes in his direction...within reason lmao

Birthplace: A rusty trailer home in Tallahassee, Florida

Current Residence: A slightly less rusty trailer home in St Petersburg, Florida

Occupation: Production Assistant and Sound Engineer in the TV & film industry, and the entertainment coordinator for a local bar. He's also (according to Mick) a professional idiot.

Talents/Skills: Playing the guitar, flipping beer mats, putting together flat-pack furniture (because he's the monkey they apparently wrote the instructions for - Miles' words, not mine), doing god-awful impressions, giving inanimate objects personalities, and, despite his deep-rooted clumsiness, he's pretty good on a skateboard.

Birth Order: Youngest of two

Siblings: His older sister, Billie (27)

Parents: Dominik Alfred Dombrowski (deceased) & Nadia Ruth Dombrowski

New Family: Hendrix, his rescue dog, and the closest thing he thinks he'll ever get to a stable family unit. He says he's a black lab for ease, but he only looks like a black lab if you squint and tilt your head; in reality, he's a mutt that the rescue shelter couldn't even pin down to any particular breed - that's part of what made Ethan so drawn to him though: they're both as misunderstood in the world as each other. In terms of human family though, his aunt (Janis) and uncle (Ford) took him in after everything went to shit with his parents - and although he doesn't see much of them anymore, it's comforting to know that he does have some sort of a real support system to count on if he were to need it.

Signature:

Height: 5' 7'' (so many of the actors I picked as his faceclaims are tall, so I tried to make it work for a while, but I just couldn't - he's just got such chaotic little-shit/confident short-king energy in my mind lmao)

Eye Colour: Brown

Hair Colour: Brown

Glasses or contact lenses: He probably needs glasses, but he doesn't care enough to go get an eye test

Distinguishing features: Dimples, a burn scar on his right thumb from messing around with a lighter, a scar on his left wrist he usually hides with a bunch of bracelets/wrist bands, and a lot of really dumb tattoos.

Mannerisms: He's always fidgeting - like always. It doesn't matter if it's with a paper straw wrapper, the end of one of his many wristbands, or the piece of skin next to his nail - he'll even bounce his leg if it comes down to it; he just always needs to be moving in some capacity. He's pretty intense with holding eye contact in conversations too (despite them being half-closed 90% of the time) - and the concept of personal space is totally lost on him.

Health: Mild insomnia and depression. His drug habits also aren't the healthiest, but it's not like he's gonna go to get himself checked out; what he doesn't know can't hurt him.

Hobbies: Playing the guitar (what he spends the majority of his free time doing), walking Hendrix, making terrible decisions, dragging Miles into those terrible decisions (either to join in, or get him out of trouble), napping anywhere and everywhere, collecting cool lighters, smoking weed, getting spontaneous tattoos, thrifting bizarre items of clothing, eating Mexican food, and losing himself in an album for 45 minutes. and annoying the shit out of Mick

Greatest flaw (in their opinion): Probably his lack of drive. Whilst how laidback and carefree he is about life can be a great thing most of the time, it does make him feel kind of empty sometimes not having a goal to reach, or some kind of direction he wants to take his life in. Yeah, it makes life a lot less stressful just living it day to day - not having any responsibilities, or commitments to obsess over - but without any sense of ambition it can start to feel a little…pointless, I guess. 

Best quality (in their opinion): His ability to find the fun in any situation. He was dealt a pretty shitty hand in life, but he's never let it get him down. Sure, he may not always cope with it in the healthiest way, but he is coping - thriving, in fact. He floats through life without a care in the world, and will happily toss a pool noodle to anyone that needs one so they can join him. He's optimistic, and authentic, and downright stupid sometimes, but it's those qualities that help people see the bright side in hopeless situations; he draws the fun to the surface, and helps you focus on the simple joys life has to offer, without letting the weight of your troubles drag you down.

Biggest fear: Clowns are his big one - and always the answer if anyone asks. But if he's being totally honest (which is almost never when it comes to serious stuff like this), then it's ending up like his parents. He has a handful of fond memories of his family growing up - his older sister probably has more since she was around for more of the good years - but his unplanned arrival stretched the family's already tight budget razor thin, and it didn't take long for things to go to shit as a result. His dad never had a particularly strong resolve (something he's paranoid about having inherited), and so when things got hard, his already established relationship with drugs became less casual, and more heavily reliant. When the tamer stuff didn't cut it anymore, he turned to the harder stuff, and when the harder stuff stopped helping him feel better - he stopped feeling anything at all. Ethan's mom took her husband's accidental overdose hard, but she found being a single mother even harder. And whilst Ethan knew she was struggling, he's still struggling to forgive her for shutting down on her kids in the way she did. Yeah, fine, lose your job and sleep on the couch all day, ignore your children for days on end - whatever you needed to do to get by - but go out to get your latest fix and go down for 15 years for manslaughter? …That's asking a lot. Like it was mentioned earlier, with his parents out of the picture, his aunt and uncle took him and his sister in, and whilst they might not be the greatest role models themselves in terms of addictive vices, they at least showed him how to open his mind in a safe, supervised environment. Yes, numbing his brain to keep out the bad thoughts is an unhealthy coping mechanism, but it's also beautifully freeing - and there's a lot of fun to be had if you know what's safe and what kind of high you're looking for (which, thanks to his aunt's guidance, he always does). He has a great set of friends keeping him on the straight and narrow now, and his lawyer sister clearly turned her equally shitty hand in life around, but that nagging paranoia about screwing his life up like his old folks did still haunts his thoughts in the wee hours of the morning when he can't get his brain to fall asleep… But that's way too deep and depressing, so he'll stick with clowns - or Miles telling him he's found a new best friend 😢

Hogwarts House: Gryffindor (it was between that or Hufflepuff, but I think he's too recklesss and overbearing to be a Hufflepuff haha)

Favourite Ice Cream Flavour: Cookies 'n Cream

Favourite Colour: Green - but he can be very easily swayed; he thinks they're all fun

Favourite Number: 420 babyyyyy 😎🍃🔥💨🤪💯

Favourite Movie: Wayne's World or the live action Scooby Doo - but his Wet Side Story universe pick would be A Bucket of Blood

Favourite Songs: Ok, this is a really tough category for him, because he has a very deep appreciation for a very broad spectrum of music genres. But, a (slightly) narrowed down list would probably look something like: Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen, Creep by Radiohead, Enter Sandman by Metallica, Hotel California by the Eagles, Vienna by Billy Joel, Does Your Mother Know by ABBA, Happy Together by The Turtles, Life Is A Highway by Rascal Flatts, Fight For Your Right by the Beastie Boys, The Muppet Show theme song & Hurricane by Bridgit Mendler

A place they want to visit: Niagara Falls - purely because he wants a souvenir t-shirt

[tomorrowsgardennc]

market update // september 21st

thought i would do a fun comparison photo today. front versus back. mostly because i finally remembered to cut the stool i've had since college shorter so it fits in the car and my knees are at the same height as the table. folding chairs have become difficult for me to get in and out of, and this stool keeps me at a decent height so i don't have to attempt to get up and hide a struggling face from a customer. long sentence, but if you deal with chronic pain then you know the struggle. there are just some pains you can't mask from, and getting up and down from a sitting position is mine. anywho.

i both adore and am sad with soap vendors. i love buying soap, but i feel like they take forever to use so i only buy from them like every other monBUT WHO CARES IF I ALREADY HAVE ENOUGH SOAP LOOK AT THIS GUYYYYYY HE'S SOOOO CUTE!!! i saw and immediately bought it, didn't even say good morning first lmao

the tropical depression that blew thru early in the week didn't *seem* bad, was a nice steady rain for a few days. but it was bad enough to destroy the flowers so i only had one arrangement for today. my vendor neighbor bought it. sale is a sale!

almost sold out of all the plants today! not too many seed sales, but plant sales means less i gotta tetris in the car on the trip home. so works for me! and glad to see people understanding that fall gardening is totes a thing. in past years at other markets even regular customers would go "ughs no i dont need to garden any more this year plz no" so glad there's a change of attitude here.

the market manager, i love her. she bought a pint of ground cherries and just walked around the market for an hour with them and made customers she knew try them. sold all but one because of that. (pro tip for any market: last one never sells, so always bring 1 more than what you want to sell).

the ground cherries are about to produce double the volume, probably by next saturday. i had 3 people ask if i'll have more next week. not bad for my first time selling produce at this market! although these are a pain to harvest, but that's on me not the plant.

best customer question today was a nice lady asking "so... if my orange cat decides to be extra orange one day and eat this pea plant, will the cat die????" LMAO!! good news is peas are actually in a lot of cat food, so pea plants and peas are completely safe for cats. and while i had legit no idea about tortitood before adopting a tortie, i legit don't think i could handle an orange cat since i already know about the one shared brain cell between them. i need the cat to have more brain cells than me, not less!!

(i love my tortie to absolute pieces and so happy to find her, but never. adopting. a tortitood. again. i ask myself if i would have adopted her if i knew about the tortitood beforehand and i legit dunno.)

also psa: seeds do need watering. just. wanted to randomly... let y'all know. because it turns out some people don't. realize it. that is all.

[izayoizuki]

Mine To Keep Ch. 3

Pairing: Hangman x F!Mitchell!Reader

Because there is no uneventful night at the hard deck.

Warnings: small physical altercation, OC Villain is mean to reader, no specified race/physical descriptors for Reader, Reader can be read as 1/2 white because she is Mav's kid

Wordcount: ~3.7K

Previous Chapter || Masterlist || AO3 || The Receipts Universe

Mine To Keep Chapter 3: Homecoming

"Who was that?" Goose asked, a study in feigned nonchalance, as you slid into the front seat.

"An acquaintance? Honestly I'm not too sure, I just bumped into him, his callsign's Hangman." You fastened your seatbelt as the truck started up. "Anyway, what's got your knickers in a twist?" Thankfully the change in topic worked as his face twisted into a grimace. 

"It's about your Godmother..."

"What's wrong? Is everything ok?"

"It's fine it's fine, it's just, our anniversary is coming up, and you know...." You did know, your godfather was a romantic guy to begin with, absolutely crazy about his wife, and he felt extremely guilty about what his career choice had put her through - his words- that he went all out for every occasion that concerned her even remotely.

"Oh yeah... So what are you thinking?"

"Well, that's just it. I've been wracking my brain, but nothing is good enough. Well, that, or I've already done it. So I thought you could help me shop for a gift?" There was indecision in his voice that you rarely heard, and your heart went out to him. You laid a hand on his arm as he swung the truck into a parking lot.

"Of course we can do that! Did you have something particular in mind?" You asked as you both scanned for an empty parking space. It was then that a window display caught your eye. It had an around-the-world trip tableau set up, from the pyramids of egypt to the palaces of Japan and the hanging gardens of Babylon. It was tastefully, painstakingly done, likely by a fresh hire who still hadn't been crushed under the pressure of work, and it caused you to let out an involuntary, dreamy sigh.

"You say something?" Goose asked, still concentrating on circling for a space.

"Nah, it's nothing, just this window display of an around the world trip. I've always wanted to do that."

"You and Carole are two peas in a pod, you know that? She's spoken about those trips as well. In fact, I proposed to her in Florence, and we went to Grenoble for our honeymoon. Of course in those days the force was footing the bill..." he trailed off, reminiscing.

You let out another dreamy sigh. And then the most perfect idea struck you, and you grabbed his arm excitedly "Oh! Why don't you and Roro do the around the world trip?"

"Don't think we haven't considered it, kid," he chuckled light-heartedly, "but there's too many hoops to jump, with the whole work-leave thing and your Godmother's volunteering and-"

"Then what about just for a couple of weeks?" You countered, cutting him off in your excitement, "You could re-create your proposal and honeymoon! THAT could be your anniversary gift- I mean you should take her out to a nice dinner anyway- maybe a beach picnic? Me and rooster and dad could help arrange it of course!- but then the actual present could be the trip! And it'll be the off-season so you'll probably not face the huge crowds! Not to mention you'd save a bundle!"

Goose screeched to a stop in the middle of his nth circle, his eyes trained wide on you. A car honked behind him and it jolted him into response, but now he coasted without looking for a space, his gaze on you. "Could we? Do you think? But what about the dates? The time off work? Should I park in front of the travel agency?"

You shook your head decisively. "No. I can plan the trip better than the travel agent. About the dates..." You grabbed his little agenda book in the cupholder and thumbed through. Dutiful husband that he was, he had his wife's activities pencilled in too. "Roro has a couple of breather weeks, could you get your leave then?" You recited the dates to him and watched his face light up.

"Yeah, that's definitely doable!" He shot out of the parking lot from hell and onto the freeway, pulling the top down on his truck and putting his aviators on. "What do you say we have a pizza night?"

"I'd say it sounds perfect!" You grinned right back, and he pinched your cheek.

"What would I do without you punkin'? I know you won't believe me, but I'll tell you again, you're my kid. We just have you to Mav because he looked all lonely and miserable. And boy do I regret it."

"Oh, I do believe you Unca." you looked him dead in the eye. 

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah! You're where I get my moustache from." You joked, waggling your eyebrows and crossing your eyes, and delighted in hearing his yowl of a laugh.

*****

As you loaded up the pizzas in the car, he spoke up. "How're you gonna book the trip? Should we hit an ATM?" He reached for his wallet.

“No,” You said as you hopped into shotgun. “I’ll put it on your Visa.”

Goose blinked. “Can you do that?”

You smiled at him serenely and focused on fastening your seatbelt.

“Hey, Punkin',” Goose shot you a glance. “If you ever turn to a life of crime, remember I was good to you. Punkin'?” But you just turned the dial up on the radio.

*****

"BULLSHIT!" Rooster cried out. The table had been cleared up and the slosh-click of the dishwasher could be heard throughout as you all sat, cards in one hand and coffee in the other, a half-eaten plate of cannolis sharing the centre with a stack of cards.

"Oh yeah?" Maverick asked, the picture of wounded indignation, as he upturned a pair of hearts on the table, "That's the tone you're gonna take with your Godfather? The one who fed you with his own two hands? The one who changed your diapers? The one who- no no, you gotta pick up 4, c'mon-" Rooster glared daggers as he picked the discarded cards up.

"Speaking of bullshit, Pumpkin over here- five diamonds- has been hanging out with Hangman." Goose informed helpfully, as he laid out his cards face down in the pile.

"I am not "hanging out"- five of- no Roo, it's not your turn! Caro look, Roo is bullying me! Five hearts!- I bumped into him."

"You were sharing a dessert." Goose replied, as he slapped Bradley upside the head.

"I was being nice!" Rooster snorted violently in response, rubbing his smarting skull, even as you indignantly continued, "I was! For heaven's sake, I don't even know the man's name!"

"And yet you were sharing a dessert with him." 

"It's Jake, sweetheart," Carole supplied helpfully, "Jake Seresin, I believe." She was met with an en masse stare. "What, you think I don't know all of my son's friends?" 

"He's not my friend." Bradley grumbled.

"He saved your life, sweetie," Carole petted Bradley's smarting head.

"He saved our lives." Rooster nudged his head into his mom's hand, amending his statement.

"Don't bring me into this." your dad replied, smartly slapping a couple of cards down.

"It's not your turn, old man! It's mom's!" Roo stuffed Mav's cards back at him. "And you say that as if you're not concerned."

"Listen, I am beyond concerned. But nothing I can say will do any good at this point. I'm just going to be ready with the Kleenex and Ben & Jerry's. You liked the one with that smug comedian's face, right?"

"Wow, your faith in me is astounding on so many levels." you rolled your eyes, kicking Rooster as he tried to peek at the ever-growing stack.

"It might be jubilant tears."

"It might be patricidal tears."

"Is that any way to talk to your father? The man who fruited you from his loins-" you gagged, "The man who put a roof over your head? Besides, why don't you get angry at Carole and Goose, they've been cheating this whole time!" Mav finished plaintively.

This time it was Carole's turn to slap someone upside the head, "Just play your cards, old man."

******

Rooster picked up his phone, hmming and ahhing as he ambled over to you, sticking the phone to your ear.

"Hi?"

"Hey, oh my god! I'm so glad I caught you in time!"

"Hey Natasha, I'm glad too! What's up?"

"Well we were having our girls' night tonight and we were hoping you could join us." Pleasure suffused you as you scrunched the phone between your cheek and shoulder, shooing Bradley away. They'd thought of you. You exercised admirable restraint in not climbing onto the kitchen counters and can-canning.

"Oh, are you sure?" Old reservations reared their head but you tamped them down.

"Of course we are! It'll be fun too! And Penny runs a tight ship at the hard deck so you can actually cut loose. Listen, I have to go, we'll meet up with you at seven?"

"Sounds good!" You said your goodbyes and let her go, mentally squealing with pure joy, even as you picked out what sundress you were going to wear.

"You going out with Phoenix and Halo?" Asked Rooster, who it turns out hadn't been shooed away far enough.

"Yeah, why?"

"Well, I know the way they order, so you may wanna go easy on the wrap." He grabbed a knife. "Here, I'll help you with that, I'll take half."

*****

Phoenix and Halo were even better company than you'd hoped. Phoenix turned out to be a big reader, and Halo and your music tastes aligned wonderfully, so the conversation came smooth and easy, and above all, it was fun. Bradley had also been right about the way the aviatrixes had ordered; you surveyed the very filled up table, and the massive dent in the portions, with no small amount of awe.

You'd been there a fair while when Bob, Fanboy, Coyote, Rooster and Hangman converged on your group. Hangman casually came to stand behind you as Rooster grabbed a stool and slid in between you and Halo, Bob doing the same on your other side, so that he was between you and Phoenix. Fanboy and Coyote had scooted in between Halo and Phoenix. The manoeuvre was so smooth it was like watching poetry in motion, but even more than that, it was the familiarity of it. As if they had been your friends all your life, as if this was routine, normal, casual, as if all these years, it wasn't just Bradley by your side with no time lost in the middle, but Hangman at your back just as he was now, close enough for his cologne to envelope you, his breath to fan ever so slightly at the top of your head, for his body heat to warm up the skin on your arms. It was homecoming. And you could have almost wept from the sheer comfort of it.

Even as you basked in the sudden wave of emotions, Halo groaned, bringing your zoning out to an end, "Why? One night guys, c'mon." 

"Not you Bob, you're fine." Phoenix said, pushing a plate towards him.

"Wow, favouritism much?" Hangman muttered, grabbing a fry over your shoulder, even as Rooster grumbled, and his arm outstretched by your face made your stomach drop, your skin overheat. You could feel downy arm hair- his downy arm hair- against your cheek, and you had tamp down a shiver from going through you- even as you wondered what the everloving hell was wrong with you, to go nuts over arm hair. This night was playing havoc with your emotions.

"Hey, I'd rather be over there myself." 

"Not like any of you to be shut out of a poker game this early." Natasha observed. Hangman shifted closer to your back to allow folks to pass by behind him and then stayed there. You could smell the starch in his shirt- lavender and laundry soap- and that pesky shiver was rearing its head again.

"The cards are a fickle mistress." Hangman's quip was directed at Phoenix, but he was looking straight down into your eyes, snake, meet charmer.

Bob snorted. "The cards have nothing to do with it. You have a tell, Bagman." 

"Oh yeah-" Jake's hand came to rest on your shoulder as he attempted to reach over with the other, a friendly feint, but Bob had dug into the proffered plate, cheeks chipmunking, and now spoke with his mouth half-full, cutting Jake off as he casually twisted out of his reach.

"So what were ya'll talking about?" he asked, directing the conversation back to you, and it struck you how gentlemanly Bob was. You wanted to adopt him. You compromised by giving him a big grin.

"We were just starting to tell her how we got our callsigns." Phoenix answered her backseater. 

"It was probably all lies," Fanboy ribbed.

"So what's your version of the story?" you asked.

"Well, Phoenix here managed to crash and burn every single time she went up during her first week-" Phoenix threw her napkin at him, "And Halo over here manages to be teacher's pet no matter what. That what they tell you?"

You subtly caught eyes with both women before turning back to Fanboy. "Well, they told it better, but yeah." you grinned, and you knew from the way Phoenix squeezed your hand that you'd answered right. "What about the rest of you all?"

Coyote started to answer, but was drowned out by an unwelcome voice.

"What do flying and my dick have in common?" Yeller called from across the far side of the tables, making his way to your group, and you stiffened under Jake's hand. Hangman clocked the change and moved even closer to you, a feat, giving your shoulder a squeeze. You breathed in the altered scent thanks to the fact that he was almost bent over you- now there was expensive perfume mixing in with the starch and soap- and sat ramrod straight.

"They're both hard for you." Yeller made eye-contact with Phoenix as he completed his both crude and demeaning punchline, trying to muscle his way into the circle of the group and failing. "What, no laughter? C'mon, I'm the funniest person I know."

"You must not know very many people then." The words flew out of your mouth before you could even think, a reflex, and the whole group cracked up at the unexpected comeback.

"Thought you weren't taking up the bet, Hangman." Yeller had venom in his voice as the laughter died down, "Didn't know you were into ugly bitches." You knew Hangman was going to move before he knew himself, somehow, though you shelved the thought to the back of your mind to examine later, and subtly pushed your shoulder back into him, grounding him, reminding him. Yeller wanted the reaction, and even though your time with him had been miniscule, you never ever wanted to give Yeller anything he wanted.

"Hey Yeller, what does it say about you that you can't even get those?" You called out instead. Once again, the words were out before you could really think, and you were faintly proud of being able to take care of yourself. Your pride came before a fall though, because that's when everything started to moved in slow motion. You saw Yeller go purple with rage, Yeller's friends push through the crowd, Penny reach for her bell, everyone at the table start to move, Yeller reach for an almost filled stein on a nearby table, Yeller arch out the liquid so that it drenched you from head to toe, Coyote and Fanboy forming a wall in front of Halo, Rooster and Hangman both reaching out to Yeller too late, far too late while Bob tried to push you and Phoenix behind him and you realised with a start that Bob wasn't as much of a puppy that he appeared at first glance, that he was built like a 6'1 stealth missile, even as Bob didn't realise you had caught hold of Rooster and Hangman's sleeves instinctively to hold them back because you knew the ramifications of infighting so that you were all a tangle of arms and heads, all of this like a collage of snapshots someone was searing onto your retinas. Your reaction was even slower. You sputtered, gasping from the cold of the stinking beer, the sticky, terrible feeling of your skin and clothes sticking, the public humiliation in the now-silent bar as your whole body heated up in embarrassment, and you looked up wild-eyed. You were going to cry very soon, but you held it in. You instead scanned till you found Yeller, who was bent over with an arm behind his back, courtesy of Hangman, and walked up to him, your steps measured, steady. You walked right up to him, and squaring your shoulders, knowing that this was probably not the best idea, but also knowing that if you didn't do this, you would regret it your whole life, you socked him on the jaw.

Apparently this had been the right move, because Yeller had a glass jaw and went down like a tonne of bricks, taking the stein in his hand with him. 

It was as if the shatter of the beer mug was a cue in a play, and everyone unfroze. Coyote, and Fanboy picked Yeller up and threw him out, Halo went up to Penny to settle group's tab, Phoenix came to you and draped her jacket over your shoulders and Rooster informed you he was bringing his bronco to the front, as Bob gathered your stuff and walked with Rooster, presumably to cool him off. You were glad for it, because you didn't know what exactly you should be doing now. So it was a mercy when Hangman's arm came around you, his hand gripping your farside arm, shepherding you out into the parking lot. You walked out the door and let it shut behind you, the noise cutting away instantaneously, now a muffled faraway made-up-for-tv seeming sound, and it was only you and Hangman and the night sky and the million stars and the still still cars.

It was Hangman who broke the silence.

"Sorry," he said, his arm leaving yours to scratch at the base of his skull, and you missed his heat immediately. You could tell that he was, oddly enough, taking responsibility for the whole scene, battling guilt.

"What for?" You asked, puzzled.

"Huh?" He seemed startled, as if he had expected you to blame him as well. "Well, for that-" he jerked his head in the direction of the bar, and you shook your head, trying to make sense.

"What part of that was your doing?" You asked him gently, and now it was his turn to shake his head. "I should thank you," you laughed softly, and his head jerked up, his eyes trained on your face, "For holding him so still."

"Wha- oh. Yeah." He hung his head, scratching the back of his head again, "Yeah, you pack quite a punch huh?" He laughed a small laugh, but you could tell his heart wasn't in it.

"Oh come onnnn, what's with the aw-shucks-i'm-just-a-humble-farmer routine? Where's my Hangman? I want him back!" You demanded, and that seemed to be the key, because his eyes caught yours and stayed caught, drilling into you, some kind of dark heat in them that had warmth blooming in your chest despite your physical state and you didn't know when the both of you had moved this close to each other but-

A large honk sounded from the Bronco and you both jumped, landing further apart than you initially were as headlights highlighted you in the pitch night.

"C'mon, I'm dropping you home, I've got all your stuff!" Rooster called out, dangling your purse from his fingertips like he was showing off a hostage.

"In a minute!" You called back, already starting to turn towards the truck.

"Hey, listen-" Hangman started to reach out, his fingertips to your arm, before jamming his hands into his pockets like he'd been singed. You had no time to read into the gesture because he started speaking again. "Listen, I know the evening didn't go the way-"

"You thought the evening was going to go a way?" You accidentally cut him off in your amusement, and he just shrugged good-naturedly, and you realised what you'd done and spoke up again. "I had a fun time," you assured him.

"Oh come off it," he scoffed.

"No, I'm serious, the whole evening was really nice and even the end it was kinda...", You were picking and choosing your words very carefully, "cool." You finished.

"Cool, huh?" His mouth tipped up in one corner and you felt yourself heat up.

"Listen, how about this," he said earnestly, "Come to beach tomorrow."

"The beach?"

"Yeah, we have this thing..." 

"Thing?"

"It's complicated, I'll explain the rules as we go. Just wear something you don't mind burning up."

"I don't like the sound of this."

"Just... Trust me, ok?" And the utter contriteness in his voice, his obvious need to make this better that he couldn't keep out, even though he'd done nothing to warrant it, had you nodding.

"Ok. But I better have fun."

"Bet on it." He grinned.

*****

The ride to the house had been silent, and you'd both trooped over to your house, or rather, Rooster had fun doing his frog-marchy bit with you. Sometimes you thought he'd rather like to put you in a duvet cover and fling you about again, but you weren't going to test your theory. Instead, you let yourself be shoved into the bathroom with a "You stink," as if Rooster hadn't made this amply clear with the way he'd spread out towels on the shotgun seat. When you came out though, warmed and lotioned and smelling exponentially better than when you'd gone in, and wearing your softest sleeping t-shirt, you were willing to forgive him, because on your bedside sat a big bowl of ice cream and the TV switched on and frozen on the opening shot of "You've Got Mail". You grinned to yourself as you slid between your sheets. You'd always had a special spot for the movie. You didn't know why.

***

tagging: @therebeccaw @imjess-themess @blue-aconite @dempy @bluboop

[msbarrows]

Yeah Anno 1800 is still controlling my brain and eating most of my free time (and some time I should be using for other things, like sleeping). Which means I've once again been skipping out on doing my daily posts, so grrrr at myself since I find having them personally useful (such as for double-checking when I last served something so I don't produce chili out of the freezer twice in one week sort of thing; I'd be fine with that but the brother prefers more variety).

And now I've once again gone a full week since I last posted, and apart from "played Anno 1800, crocheted a little" most days are a blank. At least it's the same save I was working on a week ago so I'm well past any danger of needing to restart from scratch? I'm in a weird mode with it where my income is almost always in the red, but I'm regularly selling excess stuff (some of it pretty valuable) to the NPC traders, and since those are blink-and-you-miss-it spikes of positive income, my actual money on hand has been climbing steadily despite being 'in the red'. I'm now up to almost 30 million in game, and seem to finally be turning the corner to actually earning positive revenue occasionally.

Let's see how much of the last week I can reconstruct:

Aug 20 - Chili and tortilla chips. There may have been a side salad.

Aug 21 - Pretty sure I did potato salad, corn on the cob, and hamburgers. Unless this and yesterday were reversed.

Aug 22 - Divided up a little under 10 lbs of mixed ground beef & pork my brother had bought, into 1 and 1.5 pound amounts in (flattened) freezer bags to freeze. Since there was still leftover tortilla chips, I made a taco salad for supper as a way to also use up the less-than-a-pound of ground meat left.

Aug 23 - Dug out some of the leftover lamb and lamb stock from the freezer and made a barley pottage with it, with carrots and peas mixed in for a veg. Barley and lamb is an awesome combination.

Aug 24 - Pizza for supper.

Aug 25 - Partially cleaned the upstairs bathroom. Did pasta and meat sauce and a Greek style salad for supper.

Aug 25 - Ran and put away three loads of laundry. Baked a loaf of oatmeal bread, except substituting Bob's Red Mill 5-Grain Hot Cereal for the oatmeal; it's also rolled grain, and I wanted to see how it would come out (delicious - had some a bit ago with my evening pills).

Supper was beef curry, barberry rice, and some mixed veggies sauteed in toasted sesame and olive oils.

-

Oh, and some time during the week I hit the 1/3 point with the green acrylic scarf, took a look at how much yarn remained in the ball, and decided it was unlikely to result in a long enough scarf for its excessive width. Frogged it and started over, doing the same pattern but based on sets of three stitches instead of four. It's working out as a much more scarf-suitable width now.

[boxingcleverrr]

one thing I've tried to do the last few years is REALLY pick apart WHY certain, mainly harmless fun things don't jive with me, or even downright annoy me. Like, just shutting my mouth and not being a hater is good, no reason to yuck other people's yum and all.

But often times when you actually dig in and figure out the root of shit, it tends to annoy you a bit less. And in my case with many things they just become background static I ignore, as opposed to a glaring annoyance that stabs my brain every time I encounter it.

Lately both the Abbies on my dash reminded me how oh, so many harmless things that annoy me can be boiled down to infantilization.

Like, "No Talk Me I Angy" was super cute the first time I saw it, like yeah! A grumpy lil kitten the size of a pea would say it like that, how correct!

Then a few months later I saw it on a sticker on someone's travel mug, marking it as a thing that resonated with their personality, and internally I eye-rolled so hard I saw the back of my skull. Which is my same reaction to "choccy milk" and adults unironically saying "my tummy hurts D:" and yeah, SQUIDGE.

These are harmless fun things people enjoy and say. And I am an adult woman whose desk is covered in pre-FIM My Little Ponies.

But I was also infantilized a LOT growing up. I was bright for my age (now I know, also undiagnosed), buuuuut my intelligence and fact-retaining were kinda seen as a party trick, esp as I was the only person my age at family gatherings (big age gap between my nearest youngest and oldest siblings). My ideas and solutions were rarely taken seriously, and oh boy that lasted in my family uh, until I came back to Vermont as a 30 year old woman, lol.

My mother STILL has times of catching herself going "that can't be ri-..." before remembering hi, it's me, AND I'm almost 40 now. I'm not always right, but I usually am. Cause I got that brain that drives her crazy cause it remembers EVERYTHING.

My first serious conversation about boundaries with a coworker was with a woman in her 60s who baby-talked at EVERYONE (customers loved her, go figure). And while 90% of my coworkers were annoyed by it too, they just shrugged it off. But it seriously affected my mood, and ability to work really, as her desk was right next to mine.

So one day during lunch when she said something along the lines of "Awwww you're still a kid! You have lots of time to worry about ---!"

And I politely but firmly said, "I know you mean it kindly, but when you say things like 'I'm a kid' and so on, it kind of gives the impression that you don't see me as a peer, or mature enough for this job." And it was fine, she apologized, and shared HER point of view which was basically, she WISHES she were still a kid, cause she associated that time of her life with being carefree, and oh man.

Lots of annoyances in life can also be traced to a touch of envy: I envy people that find solace in not just childhood things (again, see: ponies and barbies all over my desk rn), but a childhood mindset. That going there is a way a lot of us are processing a world that is so, so impossibly tiring and expensive and yeah good god it'd feel nice to get tucked in and read Laura Ingalls before sleeps.

Buuuuut a childhood mindset for me was full of anxiety, lol. It was not being taken seriously, and wishing for challenges, or a portal to open up and swallow me and take me to my home planet where I'm a scholar-princess. So yeah naw, no thanks, there was lots of great fun stuff in my childhood, I had a loving home and all, but the anxiety and 'tism have been there too, making me the weird kid who knew stuff.

So yeah anyway. Knowing it and typing it out really DOES make me have less of an asshole reaction in the day to day. I might have a little envy for choccy milk people, but I do prefer being the 10 Obnoxious Facts About Chocolate You Didn't Ask For person.

[dollyyun]

Hey there! I just accidentally stumbled upon your blog 2 days before and I've never been so satisfied with reading an enha fic before yours. I've never commented or spoken (always been a silent reader for a good 6 years) to any of the writers/authors that I've read good fics of before but i felt the need to let you know how amazingly mind-blowing your work is!

Trust me when i say that i've read A LOT of fics and really can pick up on if someone knows how to get the audience interested and you've really nailed the art. I'm immensely hooked onto your dkp series and I personally am a total sucker for dark themes which is honestly a difficult genre to write, but girl you are absolutely killing it with this one (no cap)

I've seen so many dark theme authors/writers leave their hobby/passion for writing coz this reaches the wrong audience and people talk trash abt it elsewhere or misuse it, and it really hurts me to see such good talent wash away just because some don't know to appreciate good work and take things personally. I just hope you continue pursing your commendable skills and don't be too hard on yourself and don't exert yourself too much!! Although I'm going to be in a bit of a daze until I read the remaining parts of the series don't push yourself just to satisfy our needs girlie, take time to fulfill your target and feel content with your work before you post em!

Your current skills are impeccable and can't wait to see what you have in store for us in the future <33

P.S apologies for the long message! And idek if this is the right place to send this but I hope this reaches you!

hello dear! i'm ngl, when i read your message, i was speechless and had to take some time to digest your kind yet impactful words into my pea-sized brain.

first of all, it is truly an honour to know that you've interacted with me because my recent work of dkp series hooked you. tbh to me personally, i don't think dkp series is that dark unlike other great dark fics i've came across, which disappoints me because i had the intention to execute dark dark theme in the series but i guess i have to sharpen my skills in dark genre </3

aaaahhh but srsly anonie, you've managed to make me feel deeply touched by your compliments, and i am not in any way fishing for compliments or attention when i say that despite your kind, sincere words (even from the others), i still don't feel that i'm deserving enough (it's the pessimism in me i swear) but maybe i'll learn to accept all of your compliments wholeheartedly once i stop doubting myself and my writing (my inner demons that are responsible of these lingering doubts, gtfo)

also! i can assure you dear anonie that there are other amazing enha fics by other writers and especially by my dearest moots (which you probably must've read their works before, considering that they're what-i-regard-as famous writers across enhablr!) trust me, there are much better fics which you may possibly feel that it's amazing than dkp! (for me, it's The Doll House by the legendary user ja3yun🤭🫶🏻my most favourite hyung line series fr, plus i'm heezlebub's wife🧚🏻)

nevertheless, thank you so so much! i truly appreciate you and for taking your precious time to send me this heartfelt message🥹and please don't ever apologise for the long messages because i genuinely love reading them. thank you as well for the reminders! i hope both sides of your pillow will always stay cold every night and may good things will always come your way💟

[tookishcombeferre]

So, I need to rant about something.

I am a parent. I need parents to parent their damn kids. I do not have time to parent teenagers in the comments section of my fanfictions nor do I want to. I've had to get real firm with someone in my comments section twice now, and I think this time it finally landed.

However, if things persist, I may have to turn off anon comments on my AO3 permanently. I will be doing this with all future fics.

(If you want to comment on my AO3 fics, but do not have an account, I usually post the links here. Feel free to comment/ message on tumblr. I love engagement. I just have to keep myself and this kid safe, and I'm out of ideas to do both.)

But, like, seriously, I have my hands full enough with my own kid! I do not need to, nor do I want to, deal with more kids. I feel bad, but like, someone has to teach safe online behavior. Thankfully, like I said, I think my message finally stuck because I haven't gotten another weird comment from them (or a comment at all) in a few weeks. But, fuck it! It shouldn't have to come to this!!

PLEASE, for the love of all that is holy, parent your damn children! Have relationships with your kids! Learn their interests! Like, I get not all parents do it. I had parents that didn't. I'm trying not to be a parent like mine. I'm trying to figure out my Bean's interests and teach them how to communicate their interests to me ASAP - we do sign and pointing, as well as verbal speech. And, my LORD, is it taxing. But, my GOD, IT'S what I signed up for! And, like, it's so DAMN worth it! When, Bean finally gets something and the lights finally come on and things click it's so worth it. AND ... AND ... even if they NEVER did? It would still be worth it! Like, as squish gets older, I expect to have conversations about things that I don't fully understand but I mean I have Google. Google's trillions of dollars have gotta be good for something? (God help me if Bean likes math. My pea brain can't conceive of a number larger than 5, but I'll still try. Can't promise much, but I'll try!)

TL;DR: I'm frustrated on behalf of, not at, a commenter, but I'm trying to do my due diligence for myself/ as a responsible adult online and parents these days are not helping my cause (I say as a parent these days).