so, this guy keeps going to my parents’ house in the middle of the night. he lives nearby and is mute, so he stays with his family, but he keeps sneaking out. he has a habit of finding the house and ringing the doorbell nonstop for like half an hour in the middle of the night. the last time this happened, i wasn’t home, but he came by around one o’clock this morning. the cops picked him up, his family says thank you for not hurting him, and i’ve now lived through two ahs events (i’m counting this as home invasion and politics are cult). someone please fax me tate, and thank you @bohnerrific69 @kittyflanders for checking on me!!! :)
the fact i even dreamed about that, in my dream i didn't have the 100% certain it was doomsday, it can be secret wars (and marvel might split the movies into part 1 and part 2) 👀
(this is from one of trustful insiders of marvel apparently)
there's a lot of rumours that marvel will be focusing on the young avengers (including wanda's sons), and that older characters would be mentors for these younger avengers!!! SO. quicksilver teaching his velocist ways for tommy (speed)!? and doing a homage scene for evan's quicksilver?! 😭🙏🤍⚡️
i went to the library and was checking out some old favorites and new obsessions. the librarian took one look at my books, glanced at my eyeliner, and immediately knew we’re both on here ;p
Guinness was a sleek black cat who lived high above the city, in an apartment on the 30th floor of a London skyscraper. He was an indoor cat, a quiet watcher of the world, who had never felt the ground beneath his paws. But he was never truly alone. He had a best friend. That friend was a window washer named Stephen. Every Tuesday, Stephen’s platform would glide down the face of the building. When it reached the 30th floor, Guinness would already be there, waiting like clockwork. Guinness would dart after the squeegee as it moved across the glass. He would tap the window with his paws, leap into the air, twist and spin with excitement. His eyes sparkled with joy. Stephen always played along. He pulled silly faces. He traced smiley faces in the soap suds just for the cat. For ten minutes every week, they shared laughter through the glass. It became the brightest moment of both their lives. Then one Tuesday, Stephen didn’t come. Guinness sat by the window. He cried out softly. He walked back and forth, restless and confused. Another window washer appeared instead. Guinness rushed to the glass, hopeful—but the man didn’t notice him. He simply cleaned the window and moved on. Guinness slowly turned away, his tail drooping low. Stephen didn’t return for six long months. He had become seriously ill and was in the hospital, fighting a dangerous infection. When he finally recovered, he went back to work. His body was still weak, but his heart was strong with one wish—to see his friend again. As he lowered the platform, his hands trembled. Would the cat remember me? What if they moved away? The platform stopped at the 30th floor. Guinness was sleeping on the sofa. Stephen gently tapped on the glass. Guinness’s head jerked up. His eyes locked onto Stephen. In an instant, the cat sprang toward the window. He cried out with all his strength, so loudly Stephen could hear him through the thick glass. He pressed his face to the pane, purring with pure happiness. Thirty floors above the ground, Stephen broke down in tears. He placed his hand on the glass. Guinness lifted his paw and pressed it against Stephen’s hand. The cat’s owner captured the moment in a photo. It spread across the world, touching millions of hearts. It showed that true friendship knows no limits—not distance, not time, not even a sheet of glass hundreds of feet in the air. Stephen and Guinness’ emotional reunion is a reminder that real bonds never fade, and love always finds its way back.
complimented a cashier on her turtle pin this morning and she said "oh thanks, I am a little bit of a Turtle Person" with the carefully contained energy of Cookie Monster telling you he's mildly fond of chocolate chips
I hope she and the multiple tons of turtle merch she definitely has at home are having a wonderful day
𝐓𝐑𝐘 𝐁𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐄 else for the night. explore darker fantasies, or just have fun embodying a new personality. the best way to spice up your sex life is to abandon the norm.
colin zabel x wife!reader | nsfw 18+ | manual sex, cheesy roleplay
yayyy i've been here one year
these are posted out of order. || event masterlist || colin zabel masterlist
“wow, mister zabel, you’ve got a significant number of knots back here,” you say, digging the flat of your palm into the area right under his shoulder blade. “you seem to be carrying quite a bit of stress back here.”
colin huffs out a laugh, shifting slightly under your touch. you don’t have an actual massage table, so his head is turned to the side, cheek smushed against the mattress. “i’m a homicide detective, ba—uh, shit, ma’am. that sort of comes with the description.”
you hum, moving your hands in a rhythmic pattern down the length of his back, alongside his spine, doing your best to apply even pressure. “very impressive, mister. you must be a very smart guy.”
“i’d hope so,” he murmurs.
“you know, mister zabel, i’ve got a special treatment for stress,” you say, bending low, whispering in his ear, letting your lips skim the shell. your hands drift lower from his back, resting over the curve of his ass. “if you have a little bit of time to spare, of course.”
his eyes close and he nods enthusiastically. his stubble makes a skritching noise against your sheets. “anything to…to help, you know? i’m very…tense, doctor.” in the low light of your bedroom, his eyes look dark and heavy-lidded, shining with equal parts lust and affection.
“mm…then i’ve got just the thing,” you say, rolling your hips down. you’re straddling him; the dip of his spine curving under and between your thighs. “guaranteed tension relief.”
something almost like a giggle escapes colin, and he wiggles his hips. his lips curl at the corners, and the sight kind of makes your heart twist. who knew all it took was two beers and an amateur massage to relax him so much? “sounds like just the thing, then.”
“turn over for me, sweetheart,” you murmur, patting his thigh. “this is a…real special technique. needs…lotsa special positioning.”
his cheeks flush a little and he turns, settling onto his back. you adjust in congruence, shimmying down to rest on his legs. “is this right, doctor?”
“yeah. perfect,” you coo. “okay, sir. close your eyes; i’ll get to work.”
obediently, his lashes flutter shut.
with one hand, you push his loose t-shirt up, revealing the toned muscles beneath. while he doesn’t look particularly beefy, he does look strong. with the other, you push his boxers down, curling your fingers around the base of his dick. “you’ll feel some pressure,” you murmur, using your free hand to pet his stomach.
“ah, fuck,” he breathes, his hips jerking slightly. his fingers skim the intersection of your torso and thighs, blunt fingernails leaving behind undetectable scratches. “fuck.”
you stroke up, thumbing at the flare of the head. one of his arms moves to cover his eyes, lips parting. the massage did its job in working him up, and already he’s painfully hard. “how is that, mister zabel?”
“good,” falls from his open mouth. “good—ah…more—”
when you reach the base of his dick again, you twist your index finger in the hedge of colin’s short-cropped pubic hair, tugging once before you repeat the path upwards. his skin is hot, the thrum of arousal threading through his whole body. you’re wet too, your rolling hips leaving shiny patches on his thighs. this, though, as previously agreed upon, is about him. you get saturday.
it doesn’t take long for his balls to pull up close to his body, for his hands to turn grabby and for his fingers to dig into your flesh as his chest heaves. “oh my god—baby, sweetheart—”
you want to lean down and kiss him, but you don’t. unfortunately, you’re fucking dedicated to the dynamic you’ve spent thirty minutes setting up. instead, you pet circles on his hip and speed up your hand. you hope he gets the message.
after a few more quick motions, he spills over your fist, keening forward. “ah…”
silence fills the room, interspersed with soft breaths as colin regains his footing. you move from atop him to beside him in just a few motions. his lips connect with the crown of your hair and his arm loops around you, ghosting over your shoulder.
“massage therapists aren’t doctors,” you say after a moment, fracturing the calm.
his chest shudders with laughter and he pulls you even closer.
“and,” you add, eyebrows furrowing. “you, like, totally broke character.”
“i was a little preoccupied, baby,” colin says into your hair. he blows out a long breath and you feel some of the tension leak out of his body. “missus zabel did just the trick, though. like always.”
you smile into his side. “yeah, whatever,” you murmur. “still. no wonder you aren’t in the arts.”
“oh, so that wasn’t art?” he quips.
you bite down gently on his pec, trying to hold back your laughter. upon seeing the look on his face, though, a giggle bubbles up in your chest and your expression breaks.
“wow, okay. i see how it is. laughing at your husband while his dick is still out,” colin says, playing hurt.
you grin, rolling on top of him again, propping yourself up by bracing your hands on his chest. “who says i don’t have more tension-relieving tricks up my sleeve, mister zabel?”
his eyebrows shoot up, but his face quickly settles back into honey-dark arousal. “mm…i mean, if it’s…you know, doct—uh, massage-therapist-reccomended…”
lmk if you'd like to be added, removed, or if i've messed up somehow!!
pls reblog or comment if you enjoyed! lmk what you thought! i will kiss you on the mouth
a/n: is this dumb???? maybe!!! but who cares!!!!! who cares!!!! this was like SO FUCKING HARD to write lmao i kinda feel like that's Not colin...who is he...who is that guy...also! this is very not-proofread (i have a migraine LMAO) so apologies for any mistakes
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