#apparently its 'talking about food sunday'

[we-the-witch]

To distract herself from the abomination that is alcoholic soup, she decided to make some food herself. "Sarmale with sour cream and mămăligă. Yes, those are grape vine leaves and yes they can be eaten with the rest of the meal. Didn't have any meat left, so I made it with just rice and a few vegetables. Mămăliga is made out of corn."

[enviedear]

jackie and wilson — billy bonney

⤷ modern!billy au

tw— somehow this is 4.6k words. mentions of food and eating, talk of religion and bible verses, (i'm southern and was forced to go to church every sunday it reflects in the writing) smutty themes so, minors dni, 18+ only, kissing, fondling, skinny dipping, (they're in their undies) so horrifically fluffy

i can already tell this is going to become an ongoing series, so be sure to comment and lmk if you want more. also, this is influenced by my daily mantra

request

the summer heat feels like it's baking you as you traverse through the long grass of your farmland. birds call and screech in the trees lining the woods beside you. if you weren't so scared of walking the shortcut in the woods alone, your risk of sun poisoning may seem less apparent.

you grip the wicker basket in your hands tighter, eyes squinting to look for the lean farmhand-for-hire. in years past, you've been keen to take his place whenever your grandparents needed someone for an oddball job. working long hours with the older couple up until you graduated from the county high school. as the seasons changed, and you got older and busier, so did your grandparents. their work on their farm proved in dire need of help.

a simple fix—you. this summer, free from university and your internship, your parents elected you to spend the free time of your summer working on your loving grandparents' farm.

in the early days of the warm season, you managed pretty well on your own. you tended the vegetables and the fruits, took care of the chickens and sheep, and sowed the large fields with grain until sunset.

everything changed after an unfortunate incident with your grandpa's gargantuan baler. luckily, you were fine, but your pa's expensive baler was wrecked all to hell.

so here you were, now relegated to some pseudo farmer's daughter role, hand-delivering water and a full lunch to none other than billy bonney.

your grandparents say billy's nice enough, mannerly yet hushed. but you know there's more to it. at least if small town gossip is anything to believe, and here, it usually is.

everyone knows the crowd billy runs around with. he's also got a vile gang of friends. angry men with sly smirks who spend most of their free time loitering the town's local bar or gambling away their lives at lawrence murphy's corral. the type of men to carry a weapon at all times without any license, and quick to threaten to shoot with even the most minor infraction.

the knowledge was enough to have you hiding away from him every time your grandparents hired him for a job.

everytime that is, until now.

you knew with the way your pa sternly stared into your eyes that a complaint wouldn't be warranted. as your grandma instructed you to bring the farmhand some, "hearty lunch for his hard work," you came to terms with the fact that you had no right to argue.

not when you owe the old man a baler.

you finally reach the young man, covered in grime and leaning against his parked pickup, out of breath and sweltering. you try not to stare at the baler attached to the tractor, about twenty feet from his parked vehicle, your embarrassment over wrecking the last one still ever present.

his truck has its' doors wide open, blaring music through blown speakers. you try to avoid making direct eye contact with him, voice raised slightly to be heard over the folk song playing, "here. figure you're hungry."

lifting the tea towel from the top of the basket, you set it on his open truck bed. despite not looking up, you can see him hurry to turn his music down before sauntering over to you from the side of your gaze.

"thank you," his voice surprises you. it's gruff but gentle. "you kin to the old couple?"

you're not sure why, but you take offense to his question. sure you've ignored him, but you know that he knows who you are. you meet his stare, your tone dry in response, "i am."

he inclines his head toward the basket, ignoring your reply with a hum, "what'd ya' bring me, hon?"

your eyes roll unabashed at his endearment, "my grandma threw a bit of everything in there. i know there's some jambalaya— the last bit of our mud cake too."

"you're spoiling me, you tell her i said thank you," he pauses, peering down at you, "are you going to be bringin' me my lunch everyday?"

his question is innocuous but something in the way he says it makes your stomach drop. you shrug, "sure, i guess."

"i'd like that." he slips the words out before his hands dive into the basket, fishing out one of the water bottles.

you nod, confused by him, "yeah well, be careful. i guess i'll see you tomorrow."

at that you turn from him, walking your trail again to get back to the house. you fight the urge to look over your shoulder and catch a glimpse of him. some proof he's really there, that the interaction actually happened.

because despite the second-hand opinion you've held on him, billy bonney was unexpected. annoyingly so.

as you finish up your day, you can't help but think about the encounter with the dark-haired farmhand. you've known of him for years, sure, but you never expected much of him.

just another one of jesse evans’ rowdy boys.

shocking, that billy would be so different. or maybe, just better at hiding his depravity. you think back to his voice, rough around the edges, yet littered with tenderness. it’s not until you think back to his gentle smile that you realize, there’s a kindness that exudes from him, and it’s got you hook, line, and sinker.

you wonder if he's always been this way? you like to think he has. even if it is only a platitude for your undeniable crush.

in the following days, you continue to bring the farmhand his lunch, stopping to talk to him longer each noon. he's easy to talk to, apt to ask you about your day, or if you need anything. you can't exactly explain why, but you're drawn to him.

it's extra muggy as you pack up his lunch and make your way to him, breaking from his time on the baler to lay in the bed of his truck.

he doesn't take notice of you until your basket finds home right beside him, blasted speakers blaring yet another folk tune.

"hey there," he greets you with a grin, his white work shirt wrought with soil, the short sleeves haphazardly rolled, "you know i'm starting t'get used to this."

you smile back, feeling a warm sensation spreading through your body, "i'm sure you are."

billy takes a look in the lunch basket, grabbing out some water first to clear the dirt on his hands, "you wanna hang around for a bit?"

you hesitate for a moment, not sure if you should. not only do you have a long list of chores, you also still find a bit of nervousness around the young man.

but billy's been nice enough, and if he's anything like his friends you assume he would have shown it by now, "i guess i have some time."

billy nods, handing you a water and patting the free space beside him. you hop up, close enough that his side brushes yours.

the sensation sends shivers down your spine as you try to focus on conversation, pulling for anything you can say. for a moment, neither of you speaks, the only sound is coming from the music blasting from his speakers. an old rock song today, different. your eyes try to look anywhere but at him, taking in the vast expanse of farmland around you.

"must be nice to have all this land to yourself," billy says, breaking the silence.

you nod, grateful for his compliment, "it is. my grandparents have worked hard to keep it running."

"i can tell," billy says, taking a swig from his water bottle, "they got a good thing goin' here."

you agree, taking a sip from your own bottle. the sun beats down on your skin, making you feel sweaty and sticky. billy, on the other hand, seems used to it. he looks up at the sky, squinting against the sunlight.

"you know, i was thinking," billy says, steady voice breaking the silence again, "what would you say if i took you out sometime?"

your heart skips a beat, your mind going into overdrive. you never expected billy to ask you out, even more so that you’d be so willing to entertain the idea.

you hesitate for a moment before answering, "i don't know. i mean, i barely know you."

this is a half truth, you know him. only this version though, the sweet billy bonney who works on your family farm and takes his lunch breaks with you. you don't have any idea who he is outside of these moments.

at least not first hand. just second hand gossip. you wouldn’t even know which stories are real or fake. you’re not sure if he’s a convincing actor or genuine soul. there are rumors he shot a man back in his hometown. that he launders money with jesse evans’ gang. that he’s a cheat from a rodeo front, taking ignorant peoples’ bet money.

billy hums, breaking your anxious thoughts, "what'd you wanna know, hon? i'm an open book."

you chew on your lip, thinking about it. it could be a smart move, you're curious about him and need to know more. you need to know what about him is fact or fiction. but at the same time, you're afraid of what the truth may be, "i don't know," you say finally. "i mean, work, for example. is this all you do?"

billy cracks a smile, "no, hon’. this s’more of a side job.” he sighs, “i was a pickup for jesse evans' rodeo for a while, but that new fella' that just came to town—mr. tunstill, he's got me a better gig."

you furrow your brows, already on edge by the mention of his previous employer, "and what exactly is that?"

he chuckles a bit, "he's got me as a producer, but i do show on the weekends."

"so what? you're a full-fledged rodeo man? with bulls and all?" you'd always know of jesse's grimy ‘rodeo’, really just used as a gambling den and club, but you're intrigued by the idea of billy actually doing it. especially working with tunstill, a sincerely kind wealthy man from overseas. it must be a stark contrast to jesse’s.

"i guess. it's a good time and you can make honest money dependin' on the event," he pauses, "it's not like jesse's, if that's what you're wondering."

you look away from him, "my pa never let me go. when i turned twenty-one i tried to go with a bunch of my girlfriends. he about had a stroke keeping me out the door."

"he's smart, you shouldn't go. those guys are bad news." he's talking quieter now, less sugary and more solemn.

you fight your previous embarrassment, opting to stare straight into his pale blues, "you hang around those guys."

your sentiment is clear and billy goes hush for a long few seconds before speaking, eyes closed, "do not carouse with drunkards or feast with gluttons, for they are on their way to poverty, and too much sleep clothes them in rags."

you know those words, heard primarily while crammed in a pew, "you're a religious man?" you don't mean to, but your question comes out a bit unconvinced.

he opens his eyes back up, a spark of something you can't place within them, "no, not really. jus' something mr. tunstill keeps repeating to me. i didn't really pay it any mind till i met you."

you try to ignore the way his hand inches closer to your own, "why's that?"

"not sure. just seems easier to abide by now. i'd hate to end up like them. i know you don't like 'em." his voice is soft, but the hand that takes hold of yours isn't.

you look down at your feebly interlocked hands, hesitating, and then taking his hand with the same conviction, "no, i don't," a breath, "but i like you."

billy's face lights up at your words, and he leans in closer to you. you can feel his breath on your face, and your heart races with excitement and anticipation. you’ve never felt to entrapped in a man before, so ready to dive in head first.

without thinking, you reach out to touch his sun kissed cheek, and he leans into your hand. your fingers trace a path down his cheek, and then down to his lips. you have an overwhelming urge to kiss him, and you're surprised when he pulls back.

"i'm sorry, i shouldn't have done that." you say, feeling embarrassed.

"no, it's not that. it's just… i want to take you out on a real date. something proper." his cheeks have grown far more pink, only this time it's not the sun's doing.

you consider his words for a moment, before nodding, "that sounds real nice, billy."

he grins, and you feel a flutter in your chest. how he managed to make you feel this way so soon, you're not sure.

"you free this friday?" he asks, amusement in his tone.

you release his hand, grabbing for your phone, "should be, my boss loves me," a stupid joke, but you hand the touchscreen to him, "put your number in, so we can plan a time."

you climb down from the bed of the truck, peering up at the farmhand as he adds his number to your phone. when he's done he hands you back the phone, the sun casting an auburn glow to his hair.

you look up at him, and he smiles down at you, "don't be a stranger." he jokes.

you give him a laugh, "wouldn’t dream of it," you add, "i'll see you friday— i'm going into town with my grandma tomorrow. i'm sure it'll last all day."

billy hums, "till' friday, honey."

you turn and head back to the house, smiling to yourself, feeling happy and alive in a way that you haven't felt in a long time.

the next day, thursday, you wake up early to accompany your grandma into town. the older woman drags you up and down shopping centre's, moaning on and on about how cheaply things are made now.

you make it through the first ten stores without your smile cracking, you think it must be a finely tuned talent.

it's not until well after lunch the woman decides to slow down, stopping at a local diner to eat. she does most of the talking, gossiping about everyone she's run into today.

you love your grandma and you enjoy your time with her, but you're too focused on tomorrow to really be good company.

if she notices your change in behavior though, she doesn't comment. highly unlike her.

by the time the sky is more dark than light, you two head home. she plays old country music the whole ride, teeny-bopper songs that remind you how young she used to be.

and when you finally lay your head down to rest, you don't try to fight off the supercut in your mind of your sweet farmhand.

the next day, fateful friday, arrives with a mix of nerves and excitement. you find yourself checking the clock more often than usual, the anticipation building as the day progresses. your mind drifts to the possible plans for the evening, wondering where billy might take you on this 'proper date.'

a bit after the sun hits noon, you finish up your chores on the farm, your thoughts consumed by your impending evening. you decide to freshen up and put on something nice, an easy way to get your mind together.

your closet here is less thorough than the one at home, but the innocent tops and bottoms of your late teens still fit. you look less severe than you'd normally for a date. forgone are the dark, tight, and sultry clothes of your college town, leaving you looking ever so sweet.

the early afternoon arrives, and you hear the distant rumble of his pickup as it approaches. you feel alight with a muddled mess of nerves as you make your way out of the house to meet him.

you look over your shoulder when you crack the door open. making sure you haven't awoken your sleeping grandparents, who rarely miss their three o'clock naps.

the summer sun is high in the sky, casting a bright glow over the landscape. billy's leaned up against his truck, staring expectantly at your front porch— staring at you, you realize.

as you walk to him, you can't help but notice the effort he put into dressing up. his filthy work shirt is replaced with a clean, green linen button-down, and there's a hint of ambery cologne in the air. he offers you a genuine smile, eyes lighting up as he takes in your appearance.

"hey there, beautiful." he greets you, a hand coming to rest on your shoulder blade, comforting.

"hi," you reply, returning his saccharine smile. "you clean up nice."

he chuckles, a bit bashful, "well, i figured it's a special occasion."

you let him lead you to the passenger side, where he opens the rusty pickup's door for you, you fight back your grin when he follows in after.

as you drive into town, the atmosphere is a blend of excitement and a tinge of nervousness. billy takes you to a quaint little restaurant a bit outside of town. it's casual but with dim lights and a cozy ambiance. certainly it's the most romantic restaurant around without heading an hour out into the city. the two of you share stories and laughs, finding little to no lull in conversation.

"you want any dessert?" you ask, fiddling a loose thread at the hem of your blouse.

billy shrugs, "i've never said no to some banana puddin'. what'd you say?"

you giggle, nodding in agreement. you feel high off of his company. you're giddy and doing a horrible job at hiding it, but he doesn't seem to mind. instead, he relegates to matching your optimism, only validating every enamored thought of him that rings in your mind.

the warm evening air swirls around you as the two of you exit the restaurant. billy offers his hand, and you gladly intertwine your fingers as you stroll down the sidewalk. the town square is alive with the soft glow of streetlights.

as you walk, the conversation continues, easy and simple. billy talks animatedly about his past few weekends at the rodeo and shares some amusing anecdotes about the other rider’s on the circuit. you, in turn, finally divulge your baler incident, much to his chagrin.

the final hours of afternoon are slowly rolling in, and soon you find yourselves back at his pickup truck. you assume he'll drive you home, but to your surprise, he takes a different route, heading towards the backroads right beside your land. you raise an eyebrow, curious about this unexpected detour.

"where are we going?" you inquire, a playful smile dancing on your lips.

billy smirks but doesn't say anything, keeping the destination a secret. the road is winding and narrow— made of dirt and full of large potholes. you know your little front-wheel drive could never make it. eventually, he slows the car off the path, onto the side of the road.

there's an apparent trail just to the right of you, and when billy opens the door for you, he immediately ushers you toward it, "don't worry, we won't go too far in."

you'd be lying if you said the setting sun wasn't adding a level of unease to the idea of entering the woods, but when you look at billy, eyes bright and smile true, you throw aside your worries.

the young man is true to his word. the trek into the woods only lasts a few minutes before you see it. an azure expanse of water— a secluded lake surrounded by towering oak trees and a backdrop of rolling hills.

you turn back to look at him, shocked, "how did you find this?"

"jus’ by chance a few years ago. i figured you'd been out here before, living so close," he remarks, "but i like that i got to show it to you." billy admits, a devoted glint in his eyes.

as you stand there, gazing at the serene lake, you feel a sense of wonder and gratitude for this unexpected and beautiful surprise. you can't remember the last time the familiar landscape of home felt so awing. billy seems to be taking in your reaction, a quiet satisfaction evident on his face.

"it's breathtaking." you finally say, your voice hushed in appreciation.

billy grins, seemingly pleased with your reaction, "so are you."

you turn back to the water to hide your flustered expression.

you watch him find a comfortable spot by the water's edge, sitting on a large flat rock. you follow suit, letting your head nestle into his chest. the sounds of nature surround you—the rustling leaves, the gentle lapping of the water, and the distant calls of birds. it's a stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of the town and the farm.

you look up at him as inconspicuously as possible, eager to commit his image to memory. his umber hair curls at the nape of his neck, slender nose burnt from the sun, his freckles apparent, and his ever-inspired blue eyes reflecting the water ahead.

you look away as your heartbeat quickens, afraid that if you peer up any longer he'll be able to hear the rhythm.

"can you swim?" you ask, toes dipping into the waters below.

billy's gaze softens, the radiant hues of his eyes flickering with warmth as he looks down at you. his calloused hand idly tracing circles on your back, comforting, "yeah, i can swim. why? you wanna go for a dip?" he replies, a playful glint dancing across his face.

enthusiastically, you nod, "i'd love to. it's been ages since i've been swimming in a place like this."

with a charismatic grin, billy stands up, extending a hand to help you rise. he doesn't hesitate to unbutton his shirt and free himself from his pants— clothed only in his black boxers.

you try to be as carefree as him, but you're slower to shed your attire. by the time you do, he's already shoulder deep in the water.

you make your way to the water's edge, stepping in. the cool embrace of the lake greets your skin as you wade in. the sun now casts a dim golden glow on the rippling surface.

as you move deeper into the water, you feel a sense of liberty wash over you. you let out a contented sigh, feeling weightless and unburdened. billy is a few feet away from you, beckoning you to come closer with a smile on his face. you oblige, splashing water playfully in your wake.

as you approach him, he wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close. you can feel the heat emanating from his body, warming you up in the cool water. your bare skin presses against his, and you can feel a hint of longing course through your veins.

"you're s'beautiful," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "prettiest girl i've ever seen."

you chuckle slightly, looking beside him to the water, "you're just blowing smoke up my ass."

his hand finds your cheek, gently beckoning you to face him fully, "why would i ever do that?" he hums, "i only say things i mean, honey."

you blink at him, too far gone to stop your gaping, "you're a charmer, billy bonney. do you hear that a lot?"

he laughs, both hands now coming to rest at your hips, forcing you to wrap your legs around his, "i only need to hear it from you."

he says it so carelessly, without a thought. he's telling the truth, you surmise.

"why? you like me or something?" the words come out genuine, despite your teasing intent.

billy's eyes trail down to your lips, "i like you a whole lot, honey," you feel his grip grow steadier, holding you closer to him. he looks back up at you, gaze tempting, "i like you s'much i worked an extra four days on your farm jus’ to see you."

the revelation hangs in the air, and you find yourself caught in a suspended moment, the water lapping gently around you. billy's admission resonates, sinking deep into the newfound connection you've shared over these past days. his stare, earnest and reserved, locks with yours, and you can't help but feel a swirl of emotions.

a smile plays on your lips, a mixture of surprise and awe, "that's dedication." you reply, a playful sparkle in your eyes.

billy grins, his hands still securely holding you. "only for you, honey. i'm nothin' if not devoted."

you gleam at his words, intrinsically leaning closer to him. you're so close to letting your lips brush his before you stop, eager to see the weight of his affection once more, "you can kiss me now, if that's what you're waiting for."

with that, he presses his lips to yours, kissing you with a hunger that leaves you breathless. you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer to you, savoring the taste of him on your tongue.

billy breaks the kiss, his lips trailing down your neck and collarbone, leaving a trail of kisses and nips along the way. you tilt your head back, giving him better access to your skin, letting out a soft sigh as he finds the sensitive spot on your neck.

"you're gonna be the death o'me." he whispers against your skin, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine.

your fingers tangle in his hair as he continues his assault on your neck, alternating between gentle kisses and nibbles. you can feel the heat building between your bodies, the water around you providing a cooling effect to your heated embrace.

billy's hands slip down to cup your ass, pulling you closer to him so that there's barely any space between you. he grinds his hips against yours, earning a moan from deep in your throat. you can feel his hardness pressing against you through the thin fabric of his boxers.

your eyes flutter open and you lock gazes with him, the intensity of his gaze mesmerizing. you tilt your head back down, allowing him to steal another kiss. his tongue teases yours. his hands roam up and down your body, exploring every inch of you he can with a passionate fervor.

you can feel yourself being taken into the depths of him until you can barely think or breathe. it's only when he finally pulls away, that you realize the afternoon has fully evolved into the beginnings of nighttime. the sky above you is almost entirely dark, littered with stars.

somehow, you still don’t think the kiss was long enough.

billy smiles at you, brushing his hair away from his eyes. you can't help but smile back, feeling content and happy.

"i think i like you too much." he murmurs, his warm breath caressing your skin. you laugh softly, feeling the same way.

a hum of agreement, "me too." you whisper back, pulling him into a tight hug. you stay like that for a while, enjoying the warmth and comfort of each other's embrace.

as the night deepens, you and billy finally decide to make your way back to the truck. billy helps you out of the water, his touch lingering as you both reluctantly part from the tranquil lake. the air is filled with the sounds of nocturnal creatures, their symphony accompanying your footsteps as you follow the narrow trail back to the pickup truck.

the woods, now cloaked in darkness, take longer to exit. the moonlight filters through the dense canopy of leaves, casting shadows on the forest floor.

once back at the truck, you find yourself wrapped in a cozy blanket billy had thoughtfully brought along. the drive home is filled with a comfortable silence, the events of the evening settling into a cherished memory. the road is dimly lit by the truck's headlights, and the night sky is a canvas of stars above.

as you approach the farmhouse, the thrill of the night lingers between you and billy. he parks the truck, and the engine falls silent. the two of you sit in the quiet for a moment, savoring the experience.

"thank you for tonight, you were real sweet." you say, breaking the silence.

billy turns to you, a peaceful smile playing on his lips. "i should be thanking you, for goin’ out with me. so thank you, darling. i think you're real sweet too."

"i'm real glad we met." you add.

he reaches over, his hand finding yours, fingers intertwining in a comfortable gesture. "me too," he replies, his gaze holding yours.

with a reluctant smile, you open the truck door, preparing to step out. billy, however, stops you with a gentle tug on your hand.

"before you go," he starts, a hint of uncertainty in his eyes, "i was wonderin' if you'd like to do this again sometime. maybe i could take you down to the rodeo?"

the question catches you off guard, but the sincerity in his expression is undeniable. you feel a warmth spread through your chest, and you nod, "i'd like that, billy."

he grins, the moonlight casting a soft glow on his features. "good. it's a date then." you agree, leaning up and placing a peck on his pink lips before stepping out of the truck.

it's not until you're safely inside that he drives away into the night, the sound of the engine fading into the distance.

even as you slip into bed, the memories of the night play in your mind like a vivid dream. you drift into sleep with thoughts of the lake, the evening kisses, and the now waivered apprehension of the farmhand.

you've found yourself ensnared with billy bonney.

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[ki-yomii]

phases of a daydream | myg

➥ pairing | min yoongi x f!reader

➥ word count | 2.8k

➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, oral (f receiving), squirting, soft dom!yoongi, pet names, mild degradation kink, mild praise kink, begging, teasing, implied established relationship, brief threesome fantasy feat JK

➥ summary | you get up early to surprise yoongi with breakfast in bed, only he ends up surprising you instead.

➥ notes | this man has made my oral fixation 10x worse. for all the sleepy girlies out there 🫡

💚 masterlist | inbox | AO3 💚

The early Sunday morning sun hovers low on the horizon, its golden light peeking through gaps between downtown Seoul’s high risers.

The cacophony of city life sounds muted, far away, foggy with sleep. Slow to rise as vibrant brushstrokes of color chase away the velvet nighttime sky.

Some of the only ones awake are food stand owners with tteokbokki and eomuk in hand, Hongdae club go-ers, and you, apparently. It’s peaceful - certainly different from your usual routine.

But it’s also an experience you don’t see yourself repeating soon.

As nice as watching the sunrise is, you’d rather be dead than awake at this hour, especially on a weekend. You’ll never understand how some people like getting up while the world’s still cold and dark.

It’s criminal.

Couldn’t be me, you think while swirling oil around the pan, and ignoring the fact you did that just this morning.

It’s a minor miracle when you’re fully awake before 11 AM, and that’s after you guzzle down so much caffeine you vibrate in place.

Woe to whoever expects more than dispassionate glares and unintelligible grunts as you migrate from the bed to the couch.

What can you say, you’re not a morning girlie: you hate the half-drunk awareness, the sour taste clinging to the back of your tongue, the sticky sweat, and how overwhelmingly bright everything is.

Instead, you’d much rather nestle into bed, groggy and warm.

So Min Yoongi better count his blessings because he’s the only reason you’re in the kitchen at 7 AM, wearing nothing but a shirt that barely covers your ass while trying - and failing - to flip nurungji.

Quiet Spotify tunes and Min Holly’s rumbling snores are the only background noise amid your bitten off curses.

Before you met him, you used to make fun of girls so far gone for a guy they lost touch with reality. And now, you’re one of them, fighting for your life in the trenches.

He’s got you so whipped, it should be illegal.

Furthermore, it’s downright unfair how endearing you find it. It should infuriate you. Instead, you’re kitten soft.

And Yoongi knows how to use it to his advantage - knows it’s that stupid smirk paired with a face that makes smart girls dumb.

It never fails to win you over; the pretty eyes, the plush lips, the sharp jawline - you’re an absolute goner. If only smug didn’t look so good on him…

Karma’s a bitch, isn’t it?

The only thing that somewhat mollifies your bruised pride is the fact that should everything go to plan, your less than innocent intentions will come to fruition.

After all, your stolen shirt leaves so little to the imagination, you needn’t have bothered. And when Yoongi sees you practically naked, with breakfast in bed?

Fire meets gasoline.

While he might never say it outright, there’s no denying the way Yoongi’s eyes go soft and hungry whenever he catches you prancing around in his shirt.

He swears he’s going to throw it out, threadbare and worn, yet there it sits. Waiting in the back of his closet for the next time you stay over.

But that’s how it’s always been; a game of cat and mouse. You tease, he reacts - a constant push and pull, flirting with the boundaries of his restraint.

Though admittedly, you’ve never been this brazen before; ass out and nipples hard.

Although it’s not like he lives with the rest of the members anymore, so why not up the ante?

Even if imagining someone walking in on you (no matter how improbable) gets your blood pumping, and your pussy aching.

No one has to know about the dirty little fantasy you indulge in more often than you care to admit.

No one has to know how wet you get at the thought of getting caught bent over, stuffed full of Yoongi’s cock and unable to do anything but moan as he makes you take it.

Certainly, he’d play along.

The smooth thrust of his hips wouldn’t falter, wouldn’t stop. He’d fuck sweet whines out of you, make you cum so hard you gush.

Would keep you pinned in place with his hands, and tease you about how much you liked getting wrecked in front of his friend like a perfect little bitch.

Especially if it was Jungkook.

Yoongi thinks it’s cute how frazzled you get around the maknae; a silly, schoolgirl crush. In fact, he’d probably use it to his advantage. After all, he loves to taunt, tease.

Oh, he definitely would, you think, biting your lip as your stomach clenches and your thighs twitch.

His fingers would dig into your jaw, force you to look if you tried to hide; make you stare deep into those wide Bambi eyes with his chin hooked over your shoulder and his voice rough in your ear.

Grinding his cock head over your g-spot with every flex of his hips as your pussy tries to milk him dry, “You just gonna stand there, huh? C’mere, let’s have some fun. She doesn’t mind.”

...

"Ow, shit," you hiss, jerking back from the stove as angry heat blooms through your fingertips, "fuck, that hurts!"

Dropping the spatula, you scramble to the sink and run cold water over your hand while glaring at the sizzling pan. It might have been your fault for getting distracted, but rude.

Even if the pain helps calm down some of your raging hormones.

Okay, down girl, you think, chill out.

So despite your fingers feeling tight and swollen like a bad sunburn, and as hot a fantasy as that is, you take your sign from the universe and recollect yourself.

For now, you need to focus on the task at hand which comes at the expense of no more daydreaming.

Resolutely ignoring the sticky cling of your inner thighs, you slip the spatula under the rice patty and quickly flip it over.

It sizzles as it drops back into the pan, little splashes of oil kicking up.

Thankfully, the bottom isn’t too badly scorched. A little darker than you’d like but beggars can’t be choosers when they burn themselves because they’re too distracted by the thought of dick.

Giving the other side a few minutes to crisp up, you frown down at the forming blister. You poke it with a wince.

It’s not too big, and the sting isn’t terrible. You were able to sap the heat from the wound quick enough.

Honestly, what hurts worse is your pride - a total rookie move.

When its ready, you dump it onto a plate without ceremony before turning to grab the sugar. Only to gasp as you run into a solid chest instead of open air.

Forearms snake around your waist as Yoongi tugs you into the curve of his body. Pressed together from chest to hip, he feels the hitch of your breath when his thigh wedges itself between yours.

“Oh, y-you’re up!”

Fingertips flirt with the hem of your (his) shirt, inching higher to caress the slope of your rib cage. Goosebumps break out across your skin, your nipples pulling taut as a shiver judders down your spine.

Low-slung sweats cling to Yoongi’s trim hips, his erection tenting the cotton.

“Mm, morning,” he says, the greeting slurred out in a voice raspy with sleep. “Smells good.”

You swallow. “Good morning, baby.” You lean forward, and kiss the tip of his nose. “How’d you sleep?” Your hand scrapes over the nape of his neck, playing with the soft baby hairs.

It wasn’t until sometime after 3 AM that he’d wiggled into bed, most of the night spent in front of his MIDI, fiddling with chords and arrangements.

He rests his chin on the top of your head with a sigh, his breath ruffling the hair of your crown, “Hnng, slept alright.”

Arms tighten around you in a light squeeze while cheeky fingers inch up your torso to trace along the underside of your breast.

“Had the best dream though.”

Your breath catches in your chest, your heart stuttering against your ribs when he grinds forward, languid and loose. Your gut clenches hotly in interest as his cock rests heavy against your hip.

A temptation, a promise of what’s to come. Your palms sneak around his sides, resting on sleep-warm skin.

When you speak, its more of a breathless whisper than actual words, “Yeah, I can see that.”

“C’mon, baby, don’t you want to help me out?” Yoongi hums, peppering kisses along the length of your neck. A rough thumb drags over the peak of your nipple. “Promise it’ll be good for you.”

“Yoongi!”

“Fuck,” a kneecap grinds up against your tender pussy, spreading your slick, swollen folds open, “can feel you through my pants. Let me, I know you want to.”

Your hips stutter, and you swallow your whine. “I do…”

Pleasure sings in your blood as you soak the fabric covering his thigh, a needy desperation rearing its head from deep within.

Flames lick along your skin, liquid fire pooling low behind your navel like a shot of whiskey.

“But,” you long for the bite of his teeth, the snap of his hips, the roughness of his grip, “I just finished making breakfast.”

Pouting, you stare up at him.

A tender expression softens the lines of his face. But the desire simmering beneath the gentle veneer remains, rough and rude.

There’s a raging tempest in his gaze, twin rings of rich coffee consumed by the black holes of his pupils.

Utterly ravenous, greedy as he traces your features.

It’s a look that’ll leave you weak-kneed and pumped full of cum.

“I know, and I appreciate the effort.”

He’s earnest, aflame with craven desire even as he presses a tender kiss to the side of your face. 

“But I’d rather eat you out. You’ll let me, won’t you, pretty girl?”

You nearly choke on your tongue, and say, “Well, how am I supposed to say no to a face like that?”

You’ve barely got the words out before you find yourself flat on your back, the unyielding marble of Yoongi’s counter top cold against your heated skin.

Calloused palms pry your thighs apart, grip so firm it dimples the fat as Yoongi holds you open and exposed.

He runs his nose along your sensitive inner thigh, his lips warm and ready as his breath pants over your soaked core.

When your clit throbs, he groans low and wrecked, “Just look at this pretty pussy.”

Almost reverently, he strokes his thumbs over the length of your folds, dips his fingers into your entrance to spread the gathering slick.

Whimpering, your head smacks back against the granite and your hips jerk up towards his face

“Can’t wait til I get my mouth on you.”

“Shit, Yoongi, you can’t - you can’t just say stuff like that.”

He flicks your clit, relishing in how your whole body jumps as he demands, “Why not?”

“B-Because you just can’t, okay?” Your heart feels like it’s about to burst out of your chest. There’s no doubt, he’s going to be the death of you one day. “It’s not-”

Fair.

“I think you don’t want me talking like that because you like it. Don’t you, baby?”

“I-”

The words turn to ash on your tongue. A loud, sloppy lick up the length of your slit shuts you up while a harsh suck to your swollen clit makes you whine. Your back bows hard, your hands flying down to sink into the dark mane of his hair.

“Ohh g- ah!”

“That’s it,” Yoongi smacks his lips, humming low in his throat, “Let me hear you.”

Forearms anchor themselves over your thighs. Using his body weight to keep you pinned, he tugs you close and strokes his fingers over your sticky folds, humming in approval at the obscene squelch.

Slick oozes out of you with every talented caress, dripping down your ass to puddle on the countertop.

“Always get so wet for me, don’t you?” Yoongi buries his smirk in the crease of your thigh, his tongue darting out to tease the very edge of your cunt. “You’re such a messy little slut, just how I like it.”

Before you can properly respond, he’s spreading you open and bowing his head. You squirm as his plush lips glide over the top of your mound, butterfly kisses tracing the beginning of your needy slit.

His bangs brush the soft underside of your belly. “Ready?”

He doesn’t wait before diving in, sucking the hard nub of your clit into his mouth. Stars burst behind your clenched eyelids. Soft, warm suction sends pleasure ricocheting through your limbs, your stomach caving in with every tender pulse of his mouth.

Your mouth drops open on a silent gasp

“That’s so - fuck,” you pant, hand scrambling for something to hold onto, hips jerking beneath his firm grip. “Yoongi!”

The wild movements nearly dislodge him, and he grunts in displeasure before readjusting to keep you better pinned.

His tongue retreats from your clit, and he sets his teeth against your pussy in warning, a gentle bite that doesn’t break skin but carries the slightest sting.

“‘m sorry, please - haahhh - please don’t stop,” you slur, fingers digging into his scalp. “I’ll be good, just please don’t stop, I can’t-”

He grunts at the rake of your nails, tongue lashes out in retaliation. He dips the tip into the tight clench of your entrance, teasing your sensitive walls.

Meanwhile, his nose grinds against your clit. The sensation’s almost too much, your body alight like a live-wire. You feel like you’re about to rocket off of the countertop, one of your hands de-tangling from his hair to yank at your own.

“S’too much - s’too good. Please, baby, I can’t!”

Yoongi ignores your cries, knows you’d sooner stab him with a knife if he stopped.

Anyway, you can take it.

You’re his good girl, after all.

You both like it wet and messy; love when the honey of your cunt soaks his face, sticks to his lips and drips from his chin.

All you can do is cry out, your chest pointed towards the ceiling as his tongue fucks deep, never stops chasing every drop of pleasure. Your toes curl from the alteration between flat, firm licks and gentle sucks.

Sweat gathers in your hairline, behind your knees as a heady rush sends you spinning, mind a haze of sensation.

You can’t stop rolling your hips, chasing after his talented mouth. In no time at all, Yoongi’s going to have you violently, explosively cumming on his tongue - just like he always does.

“Give it to me,” he growls, “Wanna feel this pretty pussy gush.”

You moan,” Yoongi, I’m - please, don’t stop. R-Right there!”

Your thighs clench around his head, biting down on your lip to hold in the scream threatening to break free.

“Fuck, please, ‘m almost there.”

Your pathetic cries spur him on.

With renewed enthusiasm, Yoongi twirls his tongue across the top of your slit, the tip playing with the hood of your clit. You clench down hard. It’s almost too much, like he’s reached deep inside and plucked at your nerves.

Then, the leaden ball of heat behind your navel contracts. Expands into a blazing inferno that threatens to swallow you whole, spreading out along your limbs like bolts of lightening until you shake.

“That’s it, come on,” Yoongi says, coaxing every ounce of pleasure he can. “I’ve got you, pretty girl. Now, cum for me.”

All it takes is one last talented pulse of his tongue. Your orgasm rips through you with a loud, keening cry. Your back arches so high your spine feels like it’s about to snap, and slick gushes from you in a warm flood.

The ball of heat snaps, races down through your body from the crown of your head to your toes. Your thighs tremble from where they’re clenched around Yoongi’s head, soaked. Your heart slams against your ribs.

“F-Fuck…”

Collapsing against the cool stone, and panting hard, you push away stray hairs sticking to your face.

Glancing down the length of your twitching body, you see Yoongi still kneeling between your splayed thighs.

The lower half of his face is soaked with cum and drool. His sweatpants were kicked off at some point, you’re not sure when but it doesn’t really matter when his cock throbs against his belly, hard and wanting as the tip weeps pre-cum.

But it’s his eyes that really do you in; hot, hungry, and awe-filled.

“Can’t believe I’ve never made you squirt before.”

Those sinful lips part, red and swollen as his tongue swipes out to gather any leftover slick clinging to his mouth. A rough moan rumbles from his throat.

“Think you can do it again for me, baby?”

A weak laugh escapes you, and you think - not for the first time - that Min Yoongi is going to be the reason you die.

[antimonyandthyme]

carcar the last of us au snippet

warnings: past character death, descriptions of the infected, descriptions of use of weapons and violence

What Carlos wants to say, in a way fashioned entirely after his father: That grave is about as deep as it needs to be. No one has the luxury to mourn. Stop fucking around and move on or die standing still.

What he actually says: “Do you need help?”

“No,” Oscar says, curt. “I should be the one to lay him to rest.”

“Okay,” Carlos says.

Maybe it’ll help Oscar, and Carlos shouldn’t begrudge him that. Help him avoid the scenario in which every infected thereafter shared facial characteristics with Charles. Max. A pretty mouth, a strong jaw. It’s his fault, after all. Carlos should have taken the time to bury all of that under the dirt. But all he could do was run.

There’s an almost relaxing rhythmic sound to the ground being hacked up, and a different kind of tanginess to the smell of fresh earth that lets him forget about blood for a moment.

He could be kind, sit at the foot of the grave and listen to Oscar talk about Logan. Why he thought coming back to where they grew up was a good idea. All these good ideas crumbling to dust, at every town they've witnessed that has eaten itself from the inside out.

Carlos closes his eyes. He doesn’t quite know what to do with another faceless loss, can’t add another number to his collection.

And anyway, Oscar's seen his fair share. He’s too good with the shovel for this to be his first.

Carlos clears his throat, when Oscar's finally done placing some leafy branch at the head of the grave. Flowers. On a grave. That’s some doe-eyed rose-tinted bullshit. There’s a strangled bird, caged somewhere to the left of Carlos’ chest. He doesn’t allow that bird any food or warmth or hope, for fear of softness. Can’t be soft if you want to survive.  

“We should move,” he says.

“We?” Oscar reels his head up. The loss carving its way down his cheeks haven’t fully dried, but he looks hopeful, almost like a lost dog. With how Carlos acts, he probably hadn't expected an offer like this. It should've been cut and dry. Getting you to your city, in exchange for a car battery.

“It’s a simple question,” Carlos says. “Are you coming?”

If he wasn’t already fucked all ways to Sunday, making his way along this forsaken earth with two rounds of ammunition and less than a quart tank of gas left, he’s definitely fucked now, adding a bleeding heart to their journey. But Carlos imagines Charles’ face if he were to leave a kid behind and—damn him for that. For being a ghost and still demanding good of him.

“Yes,” Oscar says.

Arguments and energy spent on arguments should be saved for the important things. Carlos throws what’s left of their shit into the back of the trunk, and wordlessly, gets into the driver’s seat.

--

“I’m just saying.” Oscar’s insistent. He’s spent the first half an hour of the journey staring vacantly out the window, but apparently, country music’s where he draws the line. “If for some reason this car caught on fire—”

“Don’t you even dare,” Carlos says. The thought of losing the Sienna makes him want to shrivel up and die. With luck, they managed to jack a vehicle with a working CD player. Tunes are a necessity in what is essentially a never-ending road trip. “I don’t want to think about it.”

“If it did,” Oscar says, “and I only had time to save one album—”

“Zach Bryan,” Carlos says.

“No,” Oscar says flatly.

“Dios mio. I should have left you back there.”

“You nearly did,” Oscar points out, but it doesn’t sound accusing. At Carlos’ furtive glance, he shrugs. “No hard feelings. I know what you’re doing.”

“Yeah?” Carlos doesn’t like the sound of that, gets his back all up. Ten and two on the wheel, lest he reaches for Oscar’s shirt to shake him until his teeth rattle. “What am I doing?”

“Self-defense,” Oscar says.

“I really should have left you.”

“I didn’t mean that in a bad way.” Seemingly chastised, Oscar digs his teeth into his lower lip. Charles used to do that too, before he acquired the ability to unhinge his jaw and take larger bites. “You look out for your own, right?”

Carlos wonders if Oscar can see his trauma for what it is. The way Carlos has been tuned toward Oscar in the passenger seat, as if an infected would crash through the windscreen at any second. The way he’d swerve right, driver’s seat to the road, without a second thought, if it meant his neck would be exposed instead of Oscar’s.

He’s got nothing to offer but his own body.

“I’m doing such a great job of it.”

“Mate,” Oscar says warily. If he could hedgehog his way any further into the car’s upholstery, he would be so far back he’d be invisible by now. Zach croons in the staticky background, There ain’t no world in which I am good for you. Ain’t no world, now or ever. “I wasn’t saying you weren’t.”

“No, really,” Carlos says, a little hysterically, “I’m doing such a great job—”

--

There were things in the world that should not have applied to Charles. Spend upwards of two months to four years with him and you’d start to imagine that his fingernails never got dirty, or that his smile never got ugly, or that his face never got bloodied.

But he turned like everyone else.

His skin bleached itself until every single vein was visible, and his eyes lost all recognition. He could still speak, for the first bit. Said their names in what was almost a parody. Cahlos. Cahhhlos.

“We have to,” Max couldn’t finish his sentence, though he kept trying. “We have to—”

Charles lunged for them like a rabid animal. They cringed, but the tire chains wound around Charles hold fast, and he shrunk back. Before lunging again, and again. If Carlos were a better man, he’d put Charles out of his misery. Too bad he was a big fucking coward.

“Don’t,” Carlos hissed, absolutely feral, when Max squared his shoulders and took a step forward. “Don’t touch him.”

Max’s chest rose and fall in rapid succession. His eyes were glassy and hollow. Max, who Carlos had never seen shed a tear once, who they all joked would survive them all. He looked a gentle tap away from breaking. “This isn’t about our stupid feelings, it’s about what Charles would have wanted.”

“Fuck you,” Carlos said, to nobody in particular. To maybe himself. Charles was his responsibility when they went on the raid for food, and Charles was still his responsibility now. Till the end. He’d shown Carlos the bite on his calf, almost guiltily, and remained docile and quiet when Carlos wrapped him in chains, while Carlos breathed through what was most definitely a panic attack.

Easy, Carlos. You’ve got to care of Max now. Easy, come on, breathe Carlos. It doesn’t hurt much, not now anyway. Just. Do me a favour. Make it quick, alright?

Cahhhhlos.

“I’ll take care of it,” Carlos said, because all of this was his fault. In the chaos at the grocery store, he got separated from Charles for a harrowing two and half minutes. That was all it took. “Just. Just give me a moment. Just give me a second, alright?”

Charles snarled, snapping his teeth against the metal biting into his skin. This couldn’t be how Carlos remembered him.

“I’ll do it in the morning,”Carlos promised. I’ll do it after sunrise, so he gets to see it one last time.

In the morning, this is what he found:

Charles, chest cavity open, lying still like he was peacefully asleep.

And Max, bleeding out from a bite wound in his forearm, the gun used to lay Charles to rest tucked at his feet. His skin was paper white, but his eyes were still bright.

“I fucked up,” Max said. It was the way he said it. Completely accepting and calm. It made Carlos drop to his knees and hack out the nothing he had left in his stomach. Bile burned his throat raw. “I thought I could do it, so you wouldn’t have to. Sorry.”

Carlos trembled, pushed his forehead into the ground. The entire world was bearing down on him like a magnifying glass on an ant. He didn’t want to look up. If he didn’t look up, then this didn’t have to be real.

“Carlos,” Max said, more gently than Carlos had ever heard him. By some magnetic, supernatural force, it lifted Carlos’ head from the dirt. Max had enough in him to kick the gun over to Carlos, and life in him yet for the corner of his mouth to twitch up. “You can do it.”

Carlos shook his head mutely.

The expression on Max’s face morphed into something unfamiliar. Pleading. It would carry itself into Carlos’ nightmares and every single infected running after him after. “You can. Just don’t fuck it up this time.”

--

“I’m,” Oscar says. He sounds heartbroken for people he doesn’t even know. “I’m sorry about your friends.”

“You didn’t know,” Carlos says. He never should have said anything. Maybe it’s the kid, snapping, I should be the one to do it. Mirrors are a relic of the past, but Carlos looks at Oscar and sees the same jagged stubbornness lining all his edges. “I’m sorry about Logan.”

They pass the rest of the drive in silence.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for taking everything I can from a former friend?

I 20 met this guy J 24M last year through a mutual friend, and since we happened to live in the same neighborhood we hung out more. For context, during this entire time I am/was also supporting an unrelated person financially, so I need every penny and have way less than J.

J has borderline personality disorder and does not go to therapy. I don't want to vilify anyone in the same situation, I'm just bringing it up because J's bps deeply impacts every aspect of his life.

He'd been going through some tough times, with his love life going to shit, cutting off his toxic family and having to find his own apartment etc, so I helped him often.

Since neither of us have much, we shared stuff regularly, e.g. he'd buy me food sometimes and I gave J my skateboard, among other things. I painted his walls & decorated, because I have the skill necessary and he doesn't. I went out to look at furniture with him. I asked my parents to give him furniture they were selling (he got it free). I frequently went to his place in the middle of the night, whether he had splitting migraines or thought someone had tried to break in. I helped him organize a Christmas party, even though he cancelled it because he got angry at someone or something. I cooked for him a few times (he doesn't cook). I let him use my washing machine after he moved into his new apartment without one, even though he owned a cat so all his clothes were covered in cat hair and I have a severe cat allergy, meaning I couldn't do my laundry normally & sometimes it came out with cat hair no matter how hard I tried (this lasted 8 months and would have gone on indefinitely if not for following events). Btw I did all of this without asking for anything in return.

Earlier this year, because of his ridiculously high expectations, he dumped his best friend at the time (the mutual friend), and assigned me his new best friend. After a few months, they became friends again anyway but I kept the "best friend" title.

In July, he hurt his dominant hand during an angry outburst. I was there when it happened but he seemed fine at the time. When he came to do his laundry the next day, Sunday, he told me that his hand was sprained and we talked about how he'd need to see the doctor the next day. He agreed to go. He promised to go to the doctor.

I know he's not good with going to doctors, especially on his own. So I texted him the next day and asked if he'd already gone. He responded "Nope, don't feel like", and upon asking why, he said that "it'll heal on its own anyway". Which to me read as 'I don't care.'

This pissed me off. I blocked him. I planned to unblock him once I'd calmed down, probably in a few days. I was really upset about this because it happens regularly. Him not going to the doctor when he should is a pattern, a bad pattern. He's gotten me sick that way.

The next day he texted my partner, asking if I was okay. They explained that i was upset at him for telling me he'd go to the doctor but then not going. He blew up at them that it was none of my business anyway whether or not he went to the doctor. Whined about his medical anxiety (which is valid but wasn't the point). Said that the sprain was healing so he didn't have to go. They argued for a while until my partner got tired and stopped responding.

Apparently I am now no longer his friend. He asked our mutual friend to tell me to pick up my stuff. I'm busy these days, so I haven't done it yet.

When I pick up my stuff, it's gonna be a whole list of things: a seat/cushion, a stovetop, 75€ worth of comics, a measuring tape, the skateboard, a box. I'll also bring him laundry detergents that are laying around at my place still.

Now WIBTA if I ask him to also give me pain medication to replace all the meds I gave him and money for the furniture I got him for free at the time (I'll ask 40€ even though they're worth more)?

What are these acronyms?

[superpixie42]

Saw my mom today for what is likely the last time in a while

it sucked the whole time. Last time should have been Saturday -- except that I had put our plans (family symphony event downtown) in my phone for Sunday so when i got a "???" text from her Saturday at 1145 I was PISSED because

Why didnt she text me that morning to help me remember? I have two kids and am in the middle of moving wtf.

Why did she wait until i was 45 minutes late and then send a message with NO helpful information?

Anyway the kids were ok with the symphony but since (for me) it was so last minute I forgot to bring with her spare car key (which I still had) and more importantly the Jury Summons which was sent to our address instead of her new one. So made plans to see her today so I could give her those things.

Decided to go to the park with the kids because I just dont have the energy today to try and carry a conversation all the way through dinner. She parked at the house but stayed in her car the whole time I got the kids ready because she didnt tell me she was there. Fine, I get it, you hate my husband SO MUCH you wont even come to the door. Then we get to the park and she is almost actively refusing to talk to me. ZERO questions about the move, zero questions when I told her *my car got hit by a deer this week*, and just generally avoidant. Then when I finally decided enough was enough (at 85* and 90% humidity) and we needed to go home my daughter started begging her to come with to our house. I told my mom I would keep her up to date on our progress west and that I love her. She said she loved me too and then immediately turned to go back to her car. No Be Safe. No hug. No Hope It Goes Well. No Call If You Need Anything.

Thankfully Rosie was hungry so I was able to distract her with food quickly so she didn't spend too long begging for Nana to come with - after the symphony Saturday it took almost 30 minutes for her to drop it.

This whole thing has made the last six months just so incredibly tiring and sucky. I spent four months in therapy to figure out how to move this relationship forward and she has never once acknowledged any wrongdoing or missteps or even that she hurt me in any way. I suddenly feel like I have some weird insight into divorce: how do you keep a relationship going when it feels like the person you were IN a relationship with isn't there anymore? How do you balance wanting to respect what that relationship was while also moving forward knowing it will never be like that again and honestly not being sure you WANT it to be like that since it wasn't that fucking great, apparently. And it's not just me, but my kids are trying to deal with it too, and its not fair to them at all.

Two more sleeps and then it's off to Nebraska and putting all of this behind me for as long as I can.

[sheikahwarriork]

I am sorry you had a bad day my dude, would some Byleth cheer you up?

I think, we all as society should recognize Byleth!~

Byleth does not fight fair. In a support conversation with Felix, Felix mentions that Byleth will randomly throw out punches and kicks along with sword attacks. Byleth's probably a biter. She is going to Mike Tyson her way through entire military campaigns, and I have no idea what happens when you punch a giant lizard creature, but the campaigns give Byleth the opportunity to find out before the time skip ever happens.

I mean one of the main skills of Enlightened One is brawling.

So yeah. She's a bruiser who punches her way through problems and eats more than anyone else.

And people still say she has no personality...

TY ANON YES!!! YOU SPOKE THE TRUTH

i mean, in a crit's animation byleth throws a punch before slashing the sword:

and as you said, she got brawling as a skill of her unique class.

i think being raised as a mercenary by mercenaries taught byleth to survive by all means. when she fights, there's no such a thing as a "fair fight", there is just "win = survive".

on a side note, i like to think that when she first teached the blue lions, with all the faerghus "knight honour" mentality etc, she was taken aback. when ingrid did her first lance tournament, byleth was screaming "PUNCH HIM IN THE GUTS, INGRID!!" and dimitri politely said "professor, i'm sorry but this is a lance tournament, not a brawling one. she's not allowed to use her bare hands". byleth looked at him with a "error 404 not found" face and then goes, "do you really think an enemy on the battlefield will care if she's using a lance or her hands? they'll try to kill her anyway, so she- no, you all must learn to fight and survive". and this is why byleth doesnt let her students focus on only one weapon and by the end of the war even the mages have proficiency in brawling. byleth is not going to let her babies die! (okay i love this headcanon i HAVE TO write something about this)

omg i love byleth so much im crying ok. i HATE when people say byleth doesnt have a personality!! just a few days ago i was thinking about the animated cutscene at the beginning of the game, the one when you see all the students. that cutscene begins with byleth reading a book, then the clock bells ring, yk? well, i LOVE that little detail of byleth reading. bc think about it: a 20-something yo mercenary is hired as a professor at the great official academy of garreg mach. byleth knows well she is not competent. but its a job, its her job now, so she must do her best. and so she starts reading all kind of books about magic and history and weapons and tactics. she knows shes not a good professor (yet), but she wants to be one!! so she does everything in her power to be one!!!!

or the fact that the first time we can see byleth smiling is when they give food to a cat/dog? its waaaay before the flayn's rescue, which is the canon "first time" the house leaders see byleth smile.

people often complain about byleth being a silent protagonist. in my opinion, OF COURSE BYLETH is not very talkative. they grow up in a mercenary company, they probably never interacted with someone with their age before the academy! (remember byleth doesnt meet leonie when jeralt goes to her village.) they never had a friend. and now byleth is supposed to be a perfect professor?

but byleth tries. byleth gets better with people. in fact, i think byleth actually gets more lines in the second part of the game (i should check but im pretty sure).

byleth also is more expressive post-timeskip. i'll never forget the "... :( " face byleth does when dimitri says its better to go rescue lady rhea before taking fhirdiad (his feral phase, i dont remember the exact moment but its during a war council in the first part of the post-timeskip). or the fact byleth has an angry face when talking to feral-dimitri during the exploration days (i mean the sundays).

also, apparently byleth has a very bad sense of humor. after the fhirdiad map in azure moon, when byleth and dimitri talks, he says "you taught me something very important" and byleth can say "humor?" and dimitri responds something like "you never let up, do you?", which means its not the first time byleth says a silly (but loved!!) comment.

do i think byleth should have got dubbed lines in three houses? of course i do. but even with the little lines they have we can see their personality.

IN THIS HOUSE WE LOVE AND RESPECT BYLETH!!!!!!!

thank u anon i love talking about my beloved!!

[orlissa]

Timeline of my last week or so

Saturday: I couldn't find my good plastic food container. I had the lid, but the bottom part was nowhere to be found. Asked Roomie #2 if they have seen it. "Yeah, my heater is dripping, so I took it to collect the water." Yep, my good food container to collecter heater liquid. Also, who knows when they would have told me that there was an issue if I didn't ask after my food container?

Sunday: Nothing, because you cannot find a repairman on Sunday. At this point the heater was leaking so much that Roomie had to wake up the middle of the night to empty the bowl (Not my good food container at this point).

Monday: I messaged the guy who fixed our oven in May. He called me back, and even without actually seeing the stuff, started talking about, in a rather high-handed fashion, having the heater replaced. Now, these stuff are paid for by the owner, who was still asleep in her bed in California at this point, and I'm Not Authorized To Make Such Decision. Also, I didn't like the guy's tone. In the evening I knocked on our neighbor's door - the gentleman next door, who must be closer to eighty than seventy and barely reaches my chin, does some odd jobs around the building - and asked him to check the heater. He couldn't do anything about it, but told us to notify the tenants' association and loaned us a bigger bowl.

Tuesday: Nothing, because the office of the tenants' association is only open on Mondays and Tuesdays. Heater is still leaking like crazy.

Wednesday: Took Roomie #2 down to the offices, told the lady there our problem, she promised to inform their guys and that they'd be around in a few hours. They did come in the afternoon, speaking their very own handyman language, spiked with a lot of damns and fuck its and head shaking. Not a good sign. Eventually they did something with the leak as a temporary measure, something that would hopefully hold out until spring, because replacing the heater now (which, on the long run, is inevitable) would mean having to notify the utility company and have them turn off the heating in the whole building (which also costs a pretty penny).

Thursday: Around noon, Roomie #2 left for class, and on their way out messaged me on discord that the heater is dripping again, and would I pretty please keep an eye on it? I did. I dripped over a liter in 40 minutes. Called the guys from yesterday again. They came again. There was a lot of fuck it and damns again. It turned out that the immediate replacement of the heater is a must. We called the owner. The replacement was scheduled for tomorrow morning (thankfully these guys have some connections at the utility company, so it's all done under the table for cheaper now). The guys asked who should be handling this all. The owner said me, because apparently I'm so responsible and trustworthy and capable.

Friday (tomorrow): The handymen are coming at around 8:30 am to replace the leaking heater. I'll be have to be there to manage the whole deal.

Is the issue in my room? No. Have I ever volunteered to be apartment manager? No. Has the third person living in the apartment do anything? No. Am I sick of this issue? Yes.

[mxpseudonym]

This Person Who Understands Me

Pairing: Luca Changretta x Blossom OC

Summary: Blossom is in a terrible accident and Luca can’t hold himself together.

Length: 1680

Warnings: Angsty! Whumpy! Vague details of a car crash.

Ask : Hi! I was wondering if you are taking requests, if you are I would love it if you could do a luca changretta x Blossom Oc in which Blossom gets really hurt physically, it doesn't have to be his fault. Would love angst, hurt/comfort. Anyway, hope you are having a good day :) (Also Im in love with your imagjnes) slayyyyy💅💗

A/N: I missed my favorite couple 🥹 . And this story just made me want to write another one that’s all fluff. I hope this fits the bill nonnie!

—

Luca’s faith was habitual in nature. He went to mass to please his mother. He crossed his chest before meals and kissed the crucifix around his neck without a second thought because that’s how the Changrettas did it. And when they needed something to believe in or wanted God’s wrath to take care of a situation, it was nice to say a quick prayer. It had always been, and he’d lived an okay life because of it.

It was one of the last Saturdays of the summer, and Luca drove home with his windows down. He was just outside the city, coming home from talking to their upstate suppliers. He had his weekend planned. Go to the office and wrap up quick, get flowers for Blossom, then tease her to high heaven until she threatens to break off their movie date. Luca was rubbing his chin, smiling behind his hand at the thought of her pulling his ear when his body reacted on its own. The hair on his arms stood up as his heart rate picked up. He looked around, not seeing anything sinister around him, yet he sighed with a shaky breath. His was the only car on the road, but he picked up speed like someone was chasing him. Or rather, like he was racing against time.

Luca had never seen his brother so green in the face, his family so quiet when he burst into his mother’s kitchen, panting.

“What happened? What’s going on?” He asked, words jumbled but the sentiment there.

“How did you,” Angel began, but his mother stopped him.

“Luca, she’s hurt.”

“What?” He stumbled back, still panting but prepared to reach for his gun and find who he needed. His mother sighed. She may not have liked Blossom, but maternal instinct was in her bones.

“There was an accident, a freak accident the officers said. A trolley hit her ambulance. Luca, calm down,” she said, raising her hands to grasp her son’s face. “It was very bad, and she’s in surgery at the hospital.”

“Which one?”

“Luca,”

“Ma! Which one?!”

“St. Mark’s.”

.

Seeing her was impossible, but leaving the hospital was out of the question. It was a car accident that sent equipment and the people inside banging into each other. They said she was bleeding internally and that her chest and legs were in bad shape. He couldn’t imagine it. She was just perfect when he’d left the night before with her warning to come back safe.

Luca moved from his chair in the waiting area and walked through the halls, not straying too far. He couldn’t catch his breath or stop his watering eyes.

“Not like this,” he murmured, loosening his tie. He walked into an empty stairwell. In the quiet, his forehead pressed against the gray wall as tears flowed. “Not like this.”

.

Saturday turned to Sunday, and his mother bit her tongue about him not attending mass. She settled for bringing him to the shoddy hospital chapel instead. Luca held the basket of food she brought, staring into the fabric of the cloth that kept everything warm.

“They said she has another operation, Luca. You won’t see her today. Why don’t you try getting some sleep?” She asked. He huffed and rubbed his eyes with one hand.

“Sometimes I say something, and Blossom can just finish my sentence. When I buy her flowers, I already know the vase she’s gonna put them in. She knows what kind of day I’m having by how I sigh, apparently, and if I need a stiff drink or a movie. We don’t even have to talk to say something, we just look at each other, and it’s known. As long as I’m here, she knows it. She knows she’s not alone, Ma.”

He could feel his mother’s stare, but he’d said his piece, and that was all. He’d spent 5 years with Blossom, and there was no telling him anything about her. This person understood him so completely, and the thought of her not being there for anything else in his life? He wouldn’t accept it.

He didn’t know when his aunts joined him or when they started to pray. But their mumbled prayers filled his ears. He attempted but found himself cursing his body for wanting food, sleep, or water in a situation like this. When he began threatening the divine himself - she better make it through this. I’m not asking - he gave it up entirely.

He sighed and looked to the ceiling again. The tears were welling, and he didn’t try to stop them.

.

“Mom was up half the night crying because you said there’s no one after Blossom for you. She really hates her.”

“Lonnie,”

“Stop interrupting me and eat.” Luca’s sister sat beside him on the outdoor bench in her school uniform. She was there from the beginning, quietly studying in the waiting room and only leaving the hospital for school because she knew Blossom would scold her if she didn’t. Lonnie sighed, leaning back.“I guess I can’t blame her. She’s caused us hell. I’ve never seen my brother cry so much and look like complete shit. First time for everything.”

Luca scoffed at her while taking a bite of the meal she’d brought. Yolanda, Lonnie, Changretta was only 16, but she was already different than him. When he was her age, he couldn’t wait to be a little older. On the other hand, Lonnie knew how young she was and used it to her advantage. She could say just about anything and get away with it.

“You really want to talk about how much everyone hates her right now?” He asked, laughing with no humor. There was a long silence, and the sound of rustling before the scent of burning tobacco wafted around them.

“What kind of woman names her child Blossom?” She asked before taking a pull from her cigarette.“That’s what I thought for nearly two years. It wasn’t just because I was 11 when I met her. A real kid. It’s because you call her that like it’s written on her birth certificate, like the big idiot you are.” She exhaled. “I remember thinking, how did you manage to find a woman who hated you and fall in love with her. And then I thought, how did you manage to get a woman who hates you to love you?”

“And now?” He asked, wondering if this was going somewhere.

“And now, I’m mad at God too.” Luca whipped his head toward her. He’d never mentioned that, not even to Ronnie. “She’s actually really amazing. I was only young when I met her, so of course, I sided with mom. But she’s always gotten me gifts and is kinder than some of those church ladies. If she yells at me for not wearing layers in the cold, she’s probably going to make me a scarf for the next time she sees me. That sort of thing. And she’s the one who told me I should try doing piano classes even if I ended up not liking them. And I don’t like it. But it was like a joke between us. She was going to come to my last recital on Thursday. But,”

Luca watched as tears dripped down his sister’s face to the white collar of her Saint Mary’s uniform. “Now she’s gotta worry about staying alive. How stupid. So yeah, me too. I’m mad at Him. But in your case, don’t be so angry you can’t care for her. Say your prayers and get some rest so that when the time comes, you won’t collapse at her bedside. She’d kill you for that.”

“When did you get so wise?” Luca chuckled a real laugh for the first time in ages.

“I’ve always been. You’re just now catching on.”

.

The sprinkling of rain that wet the concrete wasn’t enough to make the hospital close the windows on such a humid Monday. Luca stared out at the trees thick with leaves and flowers and the people who walked along the busy path below. She would like this view, he thought when he approved the room. The nurses watched her in a separate room all night, and now he’d get to see her with his own eyes. The doors opened, and he heard wheels on the tiles before he turned to take her in.

Blossom was bruised all over, black eye and busted lip included. Her chest was a spattering of purple and blue. But the worst of it was her legs. One was in a cast up to her knee, and the other was in a full leg splint with rods keeping it in place. But she was awake. The doctors spoke to Ronnie, Angel, and his mothers as the nurses helped her onto the bed. Luca couldn’t move as he watched. Blossom blinked slowly in a daze and winced through the worst of it. But soon, she was propped up by blankets, and her legs were elevated.

When their eyes finally met, he was by her side in a second, just as her tears began welling. He could only hear his heartbeat and feel a tear leak down his face as he cupped her face.

“You’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” she agreed, nodding. “A little worse for wear, but I knew you were here.”

Luca breathed a sigh of relief.

“Good. Good.” As gently as he could, he wrapped his arms around her. He moved closer and flattened his palm against her upper back to stop himself from pulling her. He just needed to hold her.

“This hurts,” she whimpered as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and buried her face in his neck.

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, not loosening his grip in the slightest.

“I was so scared,” she whispered into his skin. She trembled in his arms, and Lonnie’s words rang clear in his head.

“You made it. You were always going to make it, and I’m here now to go the rest of the way with you.”

[iateyourfav]

Beastification - Chapter 5

Mr Beasts first mission with the bad batch goes as weirdly as you would expect.

The Bad Batch x Mr Beast

Tags: sfw, Crack fic, slow burn, Mr Beast AU, crack taken seriously

CW: the y/nification of Mr Beast, mentions of child abduction, braindead Mr Beast, Mr Beast talks to an invisible camera, lore breaking content, Eric Cartman, Mr Beast getting punched in the nuts

Words: 2179

Will update on Wednesdays and Sundays

... | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Read on ao3

After a little argument about Echo requesting to leave Mr Beast somewhere on an uninhabited planet and Wrecker, in response, almost knocking his soul out of his body, before being stopped by Hunter stepping between the two of them, the batch plus Mr Beast gathered on the Marauder to leave for their job.

While Echo, Tech and Hunter stayed in the cockpit of the ship, Wrecker, Omega and Mr Beast stayed in the back, talking about how he apparently shot 500,000 credits with multiple tanks, for whatever reason. The fact that Omega and Wrecker actually believed that story drove Echo further into insanity.

They were headed towards Kessel, where Mr Beast had apparently brought the child that they were supposed to rescue. Everyone seemed surprised Mr Beast even remembered the coordinates, considering his constant state of delusion. He explained on their way to the ship that he had left the kid in a cave with enough rations and water to survive a couple of days. He had left it there about two weeks ago.

He told them not to worry about the kid's condition, as he had taught the child how to hunt its own food before he left and challenged it to stay near the cave, promising a ton of money for surviving the challenge. Money he obviously didn’t have. 

„Let’s hope he didn‘t actually leave the kid to die.“ Echo commented. He uttered this same sentiment for about the seventh time now since the start of their journey. „Don‘t worry, Echo. If he sabotages the mission even in the slightest, we‘re leaving him on Kessel.“ Hunter tried to calm the former ARC trooper down.

“I don‘t think that would be a wise decision.“ Tech spoke up, while getting the Marauder ready to leave hyperspace. „He may be valuable. I have yet to analyze it in detail, but his altered thought process could proof useful to us, if not only as blackmail material against Cid.“ Hunter let his gaze wander towards the back of the ship, where Mr Beast was, once again, talking to an invisible camera about his affiliate link below, while Wrecker and Omega watched him, almost hypnotized.

“Mr Beast,“ Hunter called out, trying to move Mr‘s focus from his imaginary ad read onto him. „How easy is it to reach the kid.“

“I WOULD have normally hidden him way better, but he said he was SCARED OF THE DARK! So, I left him more towards the entrance of the cave. Additionally, THE CLOSER HE GETS TO BEING KILLED BY WILD ANIMALS, THE MORE MONEY HE GETS!!“

Nobody commented, either from not knowing how to respond, or from hoping that ignoring Mr Beast would shut him up (Echo). And it stayed this quiet, until they reached the surface of the planet. They landed not far away from the cave, which was hidden sufficiently by the trees and bushes growing near it.

They entered the cave, cautious. They didn‘t want to scare the target away, but they, of course, also considered the possibility that someone or something may have gotten to the kid faster than they did. The cave looked empty, but someone definitely had set up camp here, considering the leftover ashes from a campfire at the entrance of the cave. Hunter knelt down to the ashes, grabbing some of them, hoping to get a trace leading to the kid, while the others either looked around the entrance for clues or were on the lookout just outside the cave.

“The kid went further into the cave, probably because of a storm that happened. Wrecker, Omega, Mr Beast, you stay here. Watch out for anyone coming this way. I don‘t think we‘re the only ones looking for this kid, considering how Mr explained his ‚job‘. Tech, Echo, come with me.“ 

Wrecker didn‘t protest against spending more time with Mr Beast, even if they didn‘t really speak to each other, just being in his presence made Wrecker feel at ease.

Mr Beast sat down with Omega at the abandoned campfire while Wrecker stood a little outside the cage, facing the forest, looking for potential intruders.

“And then I LOCKED TWO STRANGERS inside a room for 100 DAYS!!! Of course, I tempted them with different things to LEAVE THE ROOM EARLY, to make them LOSE THEIR MONEY!! But they didn’t, so I had to give the money to them anyways.“ Omega looked up at Mr Beast, with sparkling eyes. „I loved that video. When are you gonna release your next one? Will I be in it?“ „I‘M CONSTANTLY RECORDING! Can‘t you tell? But I can‘t seem to reach my editor.“ His voice was laced with disappointment. Wrecker wanted to comfort him, make him feel less lonely and more accepted in the group. He was part of the squad, too, now.

Then, something ripped Wrecker away from his thoughts. A bush rustled, not too far away from them. Wrecker aimed his gun towards the origin of the noise.  „Who’s there?“ he asked, in a warning tone. Another rustle, from the opposite direction now. Omega stood up, running to Wrecker. „What was that?“ Her voice gave away the fact that she was obviously scared. She hid behind him, her head peeking out just enough to be able to still look into the forest. Another rustle, the source of the noise being the bush closest to them, this time around. With shaky hands, Omega pulled out her bow. She was so focused on Mr Beast's story just a moment ago, that she didn‘t feel ready to fight all of a sudden.

A figure stepped out behind the bush. Fully hidden behind layers of robes and a helmet, with his arms up to not get shot immediately. The robed person walked towards them, confidently, with slow steps „How‘d you get here?“ it asked. The tone of its voice suggesting a male figure beneath the layers of metal and fabric. „Could ask you the same question.“ Wrecker spit back, gun still pointed at the intruder. „What do you want here?“ he questioned. 

„I‘m here for the kid.“ the stranger replied. Wrecker pushed Omega a little more behind himself, shielding her, as if out of instinct.

“Not that kid, idiot. The one in the cave.” The stranger mocked, nodding towards the cave entrance. That’s when his tone in voice changed, from condescending to enraged. “You.”

Omega tried to follow the man’s gaze. It was clear that he was looking at something further behind her. Mr Beast. „What are you doing here.“ the stranger spit towards him.

While Wrecker and Omega looked puzzled, Mr Beast looked like someone just asked him where the milk aisle was, instead of a Bounty Hunter recognizing him in the middle of the woods.

“Are YOU one of my FANS?“ Mr Beast responded, casually. „Have YOU heard of my NEW FLAVORS for my CANDYBARS yet???? NOW FOR SALE!!“ The bounty hunters' stance got more defensive. „I thought I‘d have more time before I‘d have to deal with you.“ 

Wrecker and Omega looked at each other. What was this stranger's business with Mr Beast? „I guess I have to kill you earlier than I planned to.“ With this sentence, he reached for the gun in his holster. This enraged Wrecker. „Don‘t even try it.“ Omega aimed her bow at the stranger as well now, ready to defend Mr Beast at any cost. 

Luckily, at this moment, Hunter, Echo and Tech reappeared beside them, with the kid they were looking for, not far behind them. Now, there were five weapons pointed at the stranger.

“I know when a situation‘s not looking good for me.“ the stranger commented, before slowly stepping back and disappearing back into the woods.

“What happened here? Who was that?“ Hunter asked after lowering his gun, the question mostly directed at Mr Beast. Wrecker replied: „We don‘t know, he just suddenly appeared from the bushes. He said he was looking for the kid, too. Then he got aggressive towards Mr. Seemed to know him.“ 

Hunter turned fully towards Mr Beast now, singling him out with his question. „Who was that?“

Mr Beast stood up with the smoothest of movements, hips swaying in the process. His voice boomed through the cave. „I DON‘T know.“ he said with the brightest smile on his face, his eyes resting on Hunter, who was not sure if Mr Beast was actually looking at him or through him, with his big, empty pupils.

“Let’s just hope he won’t come back.” Omega spoke, ripping Hunter’s attention away from Mr Beast’s big blue eyes. “Right. We should get back to the ship and leave. We got the kid.” Everyone turned around to look at the child they just rescued from somewhere deep in the cave. Omega made her way towards the kid with a friendly gesture, holding out her hand to him. “What’s your name?“

“Eric Cartman.“ The very round kid answered. „He hid in the cage for approximately five days, though he seems far from showing any symptoms of malnutrition.“ Tech   stated. Cartman replied, obviously aggravated: „I‘m not fat, I‘m festively plump.“

 Beast saw an opportunity in this statement. „IF you eat THAT TREE OVER THERE, right now I WILL GIVE YOU 50,000 CREDITS !“ he offered, demanding the attention back to himself. Wrecker looked at him in adoration. He was so motivated and giving. Echo was looking into nothingness, with a thousand yard stare on his face.

Cartman now took a closer look at Mr Beast, stepping towards him. „Hey, I know you! You‘re the fucking idiot that put me in this cage!“ With his eyebrows furrowed, he leaned in closer to him „How dare you even come back here, I ate nothing but dirt for days!“

“I THOUGHT, a more PLANT BASED NUTRITION would be GOOD FOR YOU!“ Mr Beast argued, seemingly not worried about the circular kid before him wanting to hurt  him.

 „Take that back, asshole. I‘ll shove that invisible camera you’re always talking to right up your ass.“ Omega stepped in between them, trying to defuse the impending argument. „Stop it, you guys! No need to fight.“ Cartman stopped himself for a minute, putting a hand on Omega's shoulder. „The only way to fight hate, is with more hate.“ He stated, before swiftly moving Omega to the side and punching Mr Beast where the light doesn‘t reach. „YOU BETTER GET ME THAT FUCKING MONEY YOU PROMISED.“

Mr Beast fell to the floor, cowering into the fetus position. A collective groan could be heard echoing throughout the cave as the batch empathized with Mr Beast's injury.

“I don’t think he‘s gonna be able to get up any time soon.“ Hunter observed, being the first one to regain his composure. „Wrecker, carry him back.“

Wrecker froze for a moment. The thought of throwing Mr Beast over his shoulder and carrying him back all the way to the Marauder made him blush „O-Okay.“ was all he managed to respond. He tried to ban the scenarios of Mr Beast thanking him for carrying him back to ship from his head, failing miserably. He shook his head, trying to gain back a clear mind.

He picked up Mr Beast from the cave ground. He was even lighter than he expected, so frail and fragile. His face looked beautiful, the expression of pain he gained from getting punched in the balls, now exchanged for a neutral, sleeping one. He passed out from the pain, though he looked so at peace. Eyes closed, his long lashes resting on his cheeks, with his eyebrows in a neutral position and his lips slightly agape. It took Wrecker more mental strength, to take his eyes off Mr Beast's face, than he wanted to admit.

With Cartman, who was now handcuffed, to avoid him punching any more testicles, they made their way through the jungle, back to the ship.

Mr Beast was asleep the entire way back to Ord Mantell, meaning the journey back was relatively quiet. He was laying with his head on Wreckers lap, who was sitting on one of the bunks. Cartman sat in the back of the ship, still handcuffed, silent for most of the time, except when he tried to persuade Omega to free him.

Mr woke up with the ship reaching the planet's surface. His eyes fluttered open, Wrecker being the first thing in his field of vision. „What happened?“ he asked, voice much quieter than usual. „Cartman may have castrated you.“ Tech answered, who was on his way to leave the ship, eyes fixed on his datapad.

Mr Beast blushed. He was embarrassed about everyone witnessing him getting punched, so he tried to change the subject. „Did you carry me all the way back? Thank you.“ he gave Wrecker a small smile, melting his heart just a little bit more. „I-It was no problem. It‘s not like you were that heavy or anything.“ Wrecker said, trying to avoid Mr Beast's inviting gaze.

“Unlike this guy.“ Echo complained, desperately trying to shove Cartman out of the ship. „Come on, let‘s get this kid back to Cid.“

[pico-digital-studios]

Into, Across and Beyond!: Shared Universe Mentions

So just yesterday, I got praise from @robovoidfrog for the inclusion of their character in IAB!, and I'm honestly chuffed to get this feedback! So through this post, I just wanted to talk about the prospect of the shared universe idea between this project, Funkinverse and the original Spider-Verse trilogy.

NOTE: None of the mentioned points are canon to either of the projects outside of IAB! unless stated otherwise.

So first off, as you saw through the aforementioned post, The X not only had a run-in with this project's Quill Society, but he also seems to be the most remotely aware of the nature of film fics based around Spider-Verse. A lot of these indeed kick off with that world's iconic hero dying and someone else having to take their mantle for them, which leads them into quite the whacky crossover situation.

In this continuity, some things are different for the Funkinverse storyline due to what goes on with the base FNF universe here. For instance:

Boyfriend died long before through the events of Mario's Madness, and a universal reboot is what gave way to Benjamin.

Though, like in canon, BF's WI and Twinsomnia incarnations are generation counterparts in the base FNF universe, they're also separate counterparts in Funkinverse (Twinsomnia's BF being Brooke's little son).

Softie/Benjamin Fairest's counterpart in Funkinverse is separate to the one who's linked to IAB!'s FNF universe.

As Benjamin had befriended several of the other BFs and GFs (those from B-Sides, D-Sides, Neo, Minus, B3 and Arrow Funk specifically), any of those that are linked to the Funkin' Society are quick to understand after Cam's hostilities that Salty's in the right for aiming to save his legal guardians from The X and quickly switch sides against Agent Blueballs' ideals for canon events.

The Sky counterpart encountered by the Funkin' Gang is a more hostile variant compared to ErrorSky, who changed her ways after enough time.

As mentioned above, The X was successfully detained and neutralised by the Quill Society post-Funkinverse, but the fact that it took FOUR of its members to detain him, compared to just two (Pana and SS!Amy) detaining Speedy in his Chaos Emerl guise, speaks volumes of how he is indeed a threat on par with The Spot and Crimtake.

As Beyond the Spider-Verse isn't out yet, we still don't know whether or not The Spot was successfully beaten.

Sunday ending up with protanopia after their encounter with The X didn't sail well with Carol, Benjamin OR Grace, hence why Benjamin calls him out on it. To think it was all because of a little disagreement about breakfast foods.

The Childhood Memories universe canonically NEVER encountered the Corruption (which is apparently a canon thing, according to Agent Blueballs), and even if it did show up, it'd never effect any of the children's shows. Yeah, get lost, Pibby kids.

In the IAB! continuity, Lexi Robin ended up defecting from the Funkin' Society after seeing just how wrong everything is, and she was rooting for the Funkin' Gang and Benjamin's crew from the sidelines.

After Cam's clash with Benjamin, Soft Pico and Neo GF (their original counterparts) sided with Benjamin in a bid to get their boyfriends back out of the Funkin' Society and back to doing the right thing in general.

Identically to Funkinverse, there's a lone repeat customer that the therapist of the bunch dislikes. For Funkinverse, it's the Boyfriend/Keith from Earth-666 (I Can't Sleep) who Softie dislikes, whereas in IAB!, CD Alt Ending Sonic's disliked repeat customer is Charlie (the Sonic from the god-awful "Sonic 2 Lost Prototype" fangame). That said, he does try to bear with the guy's emotional turmoil, though the other major therapist of the Quill Society, Sara, seems to have caught on as well.

In terms of the Gangs' members having possible canon interactions:

Miles, Salty and OMT!Tails would definitely help learn from each other on how to better protect their respective worlds, and also find solace in the fact that they were all treated as anomalies at different points.

Peter B., Brooke and CR!Sonic would be the doting dads after their first outings and talk quite a bit about their sons/daughters.

Gwen, SNS GF and OMT!Mina would be a sort of comfort group to each other, considering their rough pasts and how broken each one is deep down. Gwen, having been most successful thus far, would definitely be the beacon of light girl the other two clearly need.

Noir, Toon BF and Mini Sonic would interact quite a bit about the Rubik's Cubes that they were given as souvenirs, and their different reasons for admiring the cubes.

Spider-Ham, Mobian BF and Mr. Needlemouse are definitely the kind to goof around with their cartoon antics. That said, with the lattermost being the biggest prick, he is prone to being called out for it by the other two, though barely giving a care about it.

Peni, Aloe and EX!Alice are the tech geeks of their respective dimensions and would love sharing their robot-building (maintaining, in Aloe's case) knowledge with each other.

Hobie and the D-Sides versions of BF and Mighty would find common ground in their ideals of screwing over intended consistencies and going their own way in life.

Pavitr, Golden BF and Black Knight Amy would have a way with each other being the naïve newcomers of their respective teams, and BK!Amy, harbouring the most experience, can share some tips for her companions.

The Sonias and CR!Manik would be happy to look after Mayday and Twinsomnia BF, due to them both being toddlers. Them being children sporting superpowers makes it click more.

Margo, Boom, Nicole and Nine could bond from their computer-based knowledge, and the majority could also aim to lift Nine's spirits if he's feeling a bit down.

So that's pretty much the basic gist of things. Another few tidbits:

Of those instigating the canon events, between four candidates: - Melanie / MP (the kid pictured below), despite having tried this himself, didn't do it willingly, and was forced into it by so-called "superiors" who got the short end of the stick big time from Nitro, even after their passing made it look like they could get away with it. - Miguel and Agent Blueballs, despite their cruel methods, at least have good intentions in mind for their approach, but go about it the wrong ways that alienate those around them. - Lost Memory Sonic is the only one of these four to stoop lower than the others would've done, and actually tries DESTROYING universes to maintain the status quo.

(Art will be updated when @mcgamejolter finishes it)

Of the major protagonists between the three universes, OMT!Tails is the only one that's rarely had to use his nanomachine gear to disguise his identity with. That said, he has used it when he visited the dimension of the Hues of Metal (Dimension HoM-2023), and the suit's robotic sheen actually FOOLED the robots. At least, until LM!Sonic was driven away from their base (apparently for, as Rocket Metal put it, being a stereotypical Australian tourist).

In the above point's case, Metallix is the one to catch out OMT!Tails when they're alone, though is ultimately overpowered... from OMT!Tails mentioning that a certain web series isn't officially canon, causing Metallix to go poof from existence. Again.

Despite being a supposed "canon event", Sonic.EXEs are surprisingly quite rare to see in universes that aren't meant to have them, like with the Corruption, Darkness and Venom Symbiotes. That said, the first documented case of one showing up in a Sonic universe in the Quill Society logs is in the Sonic Robo Blast 2 dimension (Dimension SRB-1998), a universe that doesn't even have a canon appearance of the demonic entity.

After "Rivals' Madness" (my unofficial expansion/sequel to Mario's Madness/Vs. Sonic.exe (RERUN)), several of the worlds encountered are their own universes, so the characters within are not solely bound as digital slaves to Ultra M, Xenophanes OR 2011!X.

Related to the above, pretty much all the major cast of FNF ended up dealing with the mess of Ultra M and Xeno in that one adventure, most of which put up with one enemy each; Sophie from Left Behind for Tankman, Mr. L, X.nes and Requital for Pico (the lattermost he fights again later), Stranger for Skid and Pump, OMT for Mommy/Martha Mearest, Awe's Chromophobiac for Senpai, and NMI (No More Innocence) for Daddy/Daniel Dearest.

There are alternate versions of Heaven AND Hell in the IAB! multiverse that aren't solely bound by the Christian bible's depictions. For instance, there's a genuinely friendly community in my version of Hell, which an alternate version of Benjamin dubbed "Keith" discovers after his passing.

Akin to @thestrongestjewel's Eepytale, the Frisk, Chara and Asriel of the IAB! continuity have been living together for some time, albeit independently from adoptive parents like Toriel. Kris also spends some time with them as the biggest sibling of the group, akin to their role in @akanemnon's Twin Runes series.

The full list of those lives lost to the "canon event" theory are as follows:

OMT!Sonic, OMT!Vanilla and OMT!Sally (OMT!Tails)

Uncle Chuck (Crossover Realm Sonic and Extraterrestrial Encounter Sonic)

Sonic and Tails (OMT!Mina)

Caffrin (EX!Alice)

Marc Smith (Nitro; he couldn't even avert this in the Rewritten universe)

Sonic (Antho and Mobiverse Tails)

Amy (ChaosIIUniverse Sonic and Sonia)

ALL of his friends (Hog)

Silver (Lost Memory Sonic)

Tails and Amy (CD Alt Ending Sonic)

The original Boyfriend and Girlfriend (via the original FNF universe's events that led to its rewrite)

Cassandra (both from a tactic Pico pulled to end his school's terrorism early in the new timeline, and for good following the Corruption's events)

Proto Man/Blues (alongside Wily, Bass and Treble) (Mega Man/Rock; these four lost their lives to a rogue Zero build who remains shut down to this day)

For now, that's all I can really discuss. Took me some time to think about all the stuff I could mention here. Until the next post, have a great day/night!

[monaisme]

Sicktember: Day 17

#17- Brain Fog/Spaced Out

Peter Parker was that kid, the type who always smiled, got amazing grades, played video games not to an excess and visited museums with his best friends, tutored his classmates in need, had lab days with one of the smartest people on the planet, loved his Aunt May more than just about anything, and volunteered at the animal shelter. Peter even walked little, old ladies across the street- with their consent, of course—both in and out of the Spider-Man uniform.

The time in uniform was another level entirely—All of New York knew about Spider-Man, but Queens held a special place for him in its heart. After all, he was always the first to arrive on the scene to help anyone—between the hours of 5pm and 11pm on weeknights, 5pm to midnight on Fridays, and 11am to 4pm then 6pm to midnight on Saturday and Sunday, unless it was a school break or around exams, not that anyone would say they’d definitely noticed the pattern—and the best superhero have around to help when the situation involved anyone under the age of twenty-one. That didn’t mean the bodegas and food cart owners didn’t love him. No, it was universal. Spider-Man was like a light in the darkness. He was a one of them—and Queens took care of their own. Crime had gone down in the borough, community engagement had gone up, and people were sitting on their stoops into the evening, visiting with friends while kids played on the sidewalks. Spider-Man was a blessing to anyone who knew him.

As an Avenger, Peter was the great unifier. The battle at the airport had been rough, Siberia had been worst, not that Peter was supposed to know about that, but the snaps—yes, all of them—had changed all of them. Losing to Thanos and being dusted for five years had been devastating to everyone. Dr. Banner getting injured and then almost losing Vision, Natasha, and Mr. Stark had been an unsurprisingly difficult time for everyone. With the compound destroyed in the final battle, Mrs. Stark had invited everyone who had gathered to recover and heal back at the tower—which had been gratefully sold back to the Starks shortly after the first snap all that time ago. Peter suddenly had unfettered access to all of his heroes, and they all loved him—for his chattiness, and humour, and kindness, and optimism—and because they all loved him, an effort like none before was made to ensure that everyone was kind to everyone. The Avengers called it the ‘Peter Effect.’ 

But Peter, in his apparent perfection, chose to never speak of his other half—

Because Peter knew—he knew that the perceptions other people had of him were so positive and wonderful and so, so wrong, that Peter could only pray to whatever god would listen to him that no one would around to see his imperfections when he inevitably fell from grace.

/-/-/

The funny thing was that it had started even before the world had gone to shit.

Peter knew there was a family history. Yes, his parents had been killed in the plane crash when Peter was four years old, but he could still recall his father sitting in his armchair, looking out at absolutely nothing.

Peter sometimes wondered if he was still breathing.

His mother would flutter around the house, doing whatever it was that super secret scientists do, but upon seeing her Richard there, she’d scuttle Peter off to his room telling him only that, “Daddy’s just having a bad brain day,” and, “Give him some privacy, love.”

And Peter had wondered.

Then, one day, Peter felt the inklings of a bad brain day himself, but only after he was old enough to know that people didn’t talk about stuff like that if they wanted to have friends to hang out with once they hit middle school... and especially high school. It was better to put on a mask, hope it didn’t crack—

Just like Uncle Ben. He had recognized the signs as he shifted into his new reality after... with Ben growing quiet, disappearing into himself, and then into his own room. Peter was never scuttled away to his room. No, Peter just had to pretend that it was important to be quiet while his uncle took a days long nap...

He was familiar with it all.

But sometimes it wasn’t about bad brain days.

No.

Sometimes, the world sucked ‘just because’ and it was too easy to explain away the darkness when the world was still in chaos after Thanos, or Flash was still a dick at school, or Spider-Man had failed to save someone even though he’d never tried harder to save someone in his entire life.

/-/-/

Peter looked down at his useless hands.

He’d failed.

/-/-/

“Peter?” Ned gave Peter a gentle poke in the shoulder, bringing him back into focus. “Are you gonna pass those back for the rest of us?”

Peter blinked as he turned to Ned and tried to figure out what he’d missed, but Ned was the greatest and, with a subtle nod over Peter’s shoulder, he realized. “Sorry, man.” Peter mumbled, and turned back to take the stack of new papers from Abe sitting in front of him. “Here you go.” He passed the stack back.

Ned grabbed two sheets and passed the rest back behind him then smiled kindly at Peter. “You forgot to grab one, too, Pete.” Ned whispered and handed the extra back to his best friend. “Don’t worry, I got you.”

Peter smiled softly, and almost thanked him, but was interrupted by Mr. Harrington. “Alright, everyone, please pay attention. I want eyes forward and pens and pencils out. I know how excited you are for your first pop quiz of the semester! You have twenty minutes. Let’s see how much you’ve retained since the start of term, people. You can start—” Mr. Harrington glanced at his watch, then announced, “NOW.”

Peter blinked again, this time Mr. Harrington pressed a firm hand on Peter’s forearm. “Are you doing okay there, Peter?” His eyes looked a little sad.

Peter nodded. “I’m good,” he answered like it was a promise.

“Perfect,” Mr. Harrington replied. “How would you feel about heading over to the nurse’s office, Peter? I’d like to speak with your guardian while you’re there. Is that alright with you?”   

Peter didn’t answer. He simply stood, gathered his bag and pen, and wondered where his paper had gone. It couldn’t have been important because the thought was gone before he could turn around to follow behind his favourite teacher.

He wasn’t surprised to hear the whispers as he made his way to the door, though. People had treated him differently since... well, he couldn’t bring himself to complain. He knew exactly how bad it had been since this all started. If this was a consequence of his mental instability, then Peter was going to suck it up and deal.

/-/-/

“I do not want to hear you tell me how difficult it is to find a way to formulate the physicochemical properties of an antidepressant suitable for a fucking Avenger. I do not pay what I do for you to complain about how hard it is to do your job!” Mr. Stark hollered at his phone. “You’ve managed harder shit, Gary! Get this done now!” He promptly disconnected the call and dropped his shout-reddened face into this empty hand.

Peter remembered a time when a phone call with Aunt May meant her sitting at the kitchen table, keeping half an eye on a giggling Peter as he zigged and zagged around their tiny apartment while she tried to avoid garrotting the boy. Every so often, May would be on a call with someone—her own Aunt Selma, if Peter remembered correctly—and there’d inevitably come a point in their conversation where Aunt May would start sounding a little like Mr. Stark right now. She’d tell her aunt that she was staying in Queens—that she didn’t mind working doubles—and that she didn’t mind being guardian to one Peter Benjamin Parker at all. Peter was a blessing, and nothing Aunt Selma could say would convince her otherwise.

And when that didn’t stop her Aunt Selma from pushing?

SLAM! Even knowing it was coming, Peter had always flinched.

It seemed strange to Peter that the ending of Mr. Stark’s phone call, without that slam, left him unsatisfied.

And then Peter wondered if Aunt Selma had been at the—

“Hey,” Mr. Stark’s form swam into view. He sat himself on the edge of the coffee table, close enough to Peter to reach out and ruffle his lifeless curls. “I’m sorry about that, Roo. They’re still trying—but for now, how’s about we talk to Dr. Cho about weaning you off of this particular med so you’re ready for the next one, okay?”

Peter smiled small and nodded. There really was no point in complaining. He knew exactly how bad it had been since this all started. If this was a consequence of his mental instability, then Peter was going to suck it up and deal.

/-/-/

“Peter?” Mr. Stark whispered close to his ear. “If you think you’re done, I’m going to carry you back to your bed now, okay?”

Peter blinked awake and tried to figure out what had happened. Why was he on the— And then Peter remembered the sudden rush of nausea, the panic to get to the bathroom before he ended up making a mess no one should have to deal with, and then vomiting—vomiting—vomiting. His stomach and chest still ached from all of the spasms and the heaving.

“No.” He pushed Mr. Stark’s hands away. “I can do it,” he slurred in his exhaustion, only to stumble into the vanity as he tried to stand, Mr. Stark’s strong arms around his waist being the only thing between him and a concussion.

“I know you can, buddy. Just let me help, okay?”

 Eyes filled with tears, Peter could only beg for respite, “I’m so tired of this, Mr. Stark. Please. My head... I can’t do this anymore... I can’t...” Peter was on the verge of hyperventilating.

Those strong arms tightened around him, lifting him up. “Yes, you can, Peter. You’re so strong, and you’re so brave, and you’ve come so far. Please, let us try one more time. We’re so close, sweetheart. I can feel it!”

Peter felt a wetness falling against his neck.

He wouldn’t allow himself to complain. He knew exactly how bad it had been since this all started. If this was a consequence of his mental instability, then Peter was going to suck it up and deal.

/-/-/

“Hi, Peter. I’m glad you decided to be here today.” Ms. Rosa said, just like every other Monday, Thursday, and sometimes Saturday if the week had been particularly rough. “Tony was telling me that the latest attempt at a medication was a wash. I’m sorry to hear that. Did you want to talk about it?”

Peter sat silent.

“Those side effects can be a real pain,” she offered. “How is the weaning off going?”

Ms. Rosa waited, just like every other Monday, Thursday, and sometimes Saturday if the week had been particularly rough.

“Tony told me that you’ve also decided to take a step back from in-person schooling for a bit. That’s got to be hard. How do you feel about that?”

Peter picked at the cuticles of his chewed down fingernails.

“Have you made plans for Ned to keep coming by? My niece was just showing me a Lord of the Rings Lego set she’s saving for. I’ve heard rumours you’re a Star Wars guy. Have you seen any of the new sets from the new movies?”

Ms. Rosa waited, just like every other Monday, Thursday, and sometimes Saturday if the week had been particularly rough.

But then, Ms. Rosa cleared her throat—sat up straighter.

“And Tony mentioned that today is your Aunt May’s birthday.”

What?

Peter’s mind blanked.

Not really, but it was so close—on the cusp of it.

No.

He would not—could not—

Peter closed his eyes.

For the first time in a long time, since all of this began, Peter felt a hint of... something.

He knew exactly what she was doing. Ms. Rosa had mentioned once that she thought Peter needed to push himself more. Yes, there’d been no success with the medications so far, but talk therapy, cognitive behavioural therapy—hell, even art therapy was on the table and yet, Peter chose to do nothing—at least for her.

Bad brain days and all that...

Peter wondered briefly, if she’d just seen something in him to try this now because, for the first time since Mr. Stark had arrived at her door when this all started with a non-disclosure agreement in one hand and a catatonic teenager in the other, she tried again.

“Peter? You must be having a lot of feelings around today. Do you have plans to do anything special to commemorate the day? You’re guardian mentioned something about ordering Thai for dinner?”

Peter had unintentionally heard that plan already today as Tony’d had his customary pre-session conversation with Mr. Rosa. They both knew that he’d hear it, Peter’s spidey-hearing made having even the most secret conversations difficult. It was simply a courtesy that they not discuss him in front of him.

But suddenly, a memory of the recent past popped into his head, his eyes opened, and Peter spoke. “Larb.”

Ms. Rosa crooked a brow. “I’m hoping that’s a dish and not you having a medical emergency?”

The tiniest huff of a laugh escaped from Peter’s mouth.

Then he slapped a hand over it to keep more from escaping.

He would not—could not—

Ms. Rosa leaned forward in her seat, clasped her hands together, and heaved a sigh.

And Peter braced himself. There was no point to complaining. He knew exactly how bad it had been since—

“Peter, I need you to stay with me, okay? I’m about to drop some serious wisdom here and I need you to be present, okay?”

Peter furrowed his brow in confusion.

This wasn’t how the session was supposed to go.

“I think what we have here is a cataclysmic collision of awful events happening here and we’ve been trying to manage everything all at once instead of just eating the elephant.”

Peter blinked rapidly as he tried to translate what she’d said.

“Oh, come on. Tell me you’ve heard that before. ‘How do you eat an elephant?’ ‘One bite at a time?’”

Nothing.

She sighed again, “Okay, not the time. Got it.” She adjusted in her seat, leaning back and crossing her legs. “So—you are aware that Tony and I have been having conversations outside of our normal session time. Yes?” She paused, “Of course. Well, I have been given permission by Tony to share some of the things we’ve discussed, but only with relation to your treatment and treatment plan—just the same as for you... unless I fear for your safety and all.”

Peter waited.

“It seems, that while going through some of your Aunt’s paperwork yesterday, the Starks have come across some information that suggests we may also be dealing with a previously unknown family medical history and not only the grief disorder and CPTSD.”

His stomach sank. His secret was out.

“Peter? Did you know about your uncle’s depression?”

Peter shrugged, “Bad brain days,” he spoke softly.

Ms. Rosa stayed relaxed. “Is that what your aunt called his episodes?”

A head shake, ‘no.’ “My mom.”

“You’re mom called your uncle’s episodes bad brain days?”

Once more, a head shake, ‘no.’ “My dad’s.”

She stared at him a moment, then exhaled slowly. “And they were brothers?”

Cheeks pinked in shame, Peter nodded a ‘yes.’

He wanted to curl up into a ball and die. He should have been better- stronger! He had the spider bite and it had fixed everything that was wrong with him—the asthma! The eyesight! The weakness!

Why couldn’t it have fixed this, too?

He’d been quiet long enough that Ms. Rosa spoke up again. “Alright, then. I need you to listen to me, Peter-- actually hear my words.” She paused, assessing his current state.

Peter tried not to squirm.

Despite his discomfort, she must have been satisfied with what she saw, so she continued. “This is not your fault... just like all of the other horrible things that have happened in your life. And again, so you know that I’m serious. Your aunt’s death was not your fault.”

“But—”

She knew where he was going. “There is a police report that details the events of the accident, Peter—and that’s exactly what it was—a terrible, meaningless accident. The report also details the efforts you made to save your aunt once you arrived at the scene. There was nothing more you could have done to prevent this outcome. This was not your fault.”

They both sat with her words, then, “Do you believe me when I tell you that, Peter? Can you tell me that the accident wasn’t your fault and mean it?”   

His throat tightened.

“You’re alright, Peter. Just breathe,” she coached.

Peter nodded but couldn’t speak.

“And the depression? – not your fault either. Can you allow yourself believe that?”

His chin quivered.

“Peter? What do you need, my friend?” Ms. Rosa was leaned forward again, his hands suddenly grasped firmly in hers.

And Peter knew, as clear as anything, exactly what he wanted, but he couldn’t have her so he would take what he could... “Mr. Stark? Please?”

The tears were falling before she could reach the door, not that he bothered to brush them away. How had he not wept for her? How had he let himself disappear into—

“Pete? Hey, bud,” He was there. Mr. Stark was there, knelt in front of him, solid and present and brushing his curls away from his wet face. “What do you need, sweetheart? What can I do?”

[And Peter didn’t deserve to complain.] “Oh, god, she’s gone, Mr. Stark! I tried to get to her, I swear, and I wasn’t good enough. I’m never good enough! But I swear I tried so hard!” His words were barely comprehensible through the sobs. [He knew exactly how bad it had been since this all started.] “I miss her. Every single day,” he moaned as he clutched at his stomach, trying to pull closed the giant hole she’d left. “I don’t know what to do. Please tell me what to do?”

Mr. Stark pulled Peter to his chest, fast and firm and holding on like both their lives depended on it. “We’re going to get you through this, is what we’re going to do, kid. Whatever it takes, you hear me? Me and Pepper and everyone who loves you—we are all here. You have all of us. We’ll get you through it, I swear.” [And if this was a consequence of his mental instability, then Peter was going to suck it up and deal...]

[etherealspacejelly]

Advice for living in uni accommodation!

hi there, its your friendly internet big sibling here to give you some top tips for surviving living in university accommodation. This post is aimed at UK residents, because that's where im from, but some of this stuff may apply to students in other countries too!

laundry is probably one of the worst parts of uni accom because you have to use the laundromats run by circuit laundry and they Suck. to save money, dont use the dryers get yourself a clothes airer from b&m bargains or somewhere similar and hang your clothes up to dry in your room. also, the laundromat will be quietest on saturday and sunday mornings because half of the people in your building will be hungover as shit and the other half are too lazy to get up before 11 on a weekend, so exploit that!

make a groupchat with your flatmates. use something like whatsapp ideally, not snapchat or instagram. its a lifesaver if you accidentally lock yourself out or need to borrow something, or if you just need to complain about the state of the kitchen.

speaking of the kitchen, please for the love of god clean up after yourself. if you spill something or make a mess while cooking, just give it a wipe down. dont be that guy.

take your bins out once they start to get full, not once they are overflowing. especially in the summer. fruit flies are so annoying. my boyfriend went home for a week a while ago and his flatmates didnt empty the bins at all while he was gone and he came back to Actual Fucking Maggots everywhere.

also this should go without saying but i know from experience it does need to be said. dont take your flatmates shit without asking. we had a food thief last year and with how expensive food is at the moment they probably stole hundreds of pounds worth of shit. i only noticed because my bread kept going missing and i put a message on the groupchat about it and apparently lots of other people had noticed things going down much faster than they should as well. if you want to use something just ask, and if you are struggling to afford food there are systems in place for that. talk to the uni about it, dont steal from other people who are also struggling.

[system-of-a-feather]

AHEM. FEATHER'S CHILL THE FUCK OUT AND ROOST GAMEPLAN

Have starbucks literally fuck it its a comfort drink

Focus on the story we are writing and our best bud writing partner cause damn we haven't been talking as much as we should due to mental health shit

Stop thinking about the PID and shit for a minute

Eat some nice food today

Hang out with our fiance and watch a shit ton of House MD while drawing our story

Play a PS5 game if we can easily get ourselves to, not gonna push it if executive dysfunction says no

TRAVEL 1.5 HOURS TO A REALLY NICE BUDDHIST TEMPLE THAT OUR THERAPIST STRONGLY RECOMMENDED AND IS APPARENTLY ONE OF THE LARGEST TEMPLES IN THE AMERICAN WEST

Enjoy National Movie Day or whatever on Sunday

See if we can go to an escape room or whale watching with our sister before she is no longer in town

Chill

Sit with Lin and vibrate about art

Send XIV to the gym and make him play the guitar

C H I L L

kiss and cuddle my birds

maybe - maybe on the way back from the buddhist temple stop by a specific pet shop that has a specific disabled cockatoo that we are on first name bases with

did i say fucking chill

eat chips

significantly lessen PC time

did i say buddhist temple

DID

I

SAY

BUDDHIST

TEMPLE

dude that was straight up lin's idea within like 30 minutes of being front this morning and I was like

holy shit

you genius

maybe ill take a bath if our bath tub isnt how it usually is /hj

OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD

ITS GONNA BE DURING A DAY WHERE WE CAN GIVE OFFERINGS AND SHIT AND AKLSJFAKLSDJFLKSAJLDFA

HYPE HYPE HYPE HYPE

BUDDHIST TEMPLE HYPE

BUDDHIST TEMPLE HYPE

[spock-pewds-louise]

Wow, uh okay so there's a thing going on with Pewds...

He got an urine infection, and that's just an annoying thing for humans to have but its apparently deadly for cats if not treated fast. Like I'm talking 3-6 days of having it untreated can be fatal😖

I texted the vet on saturday night and told them what was going on and if it was normal or what I should do, they answered at 6am on saturday (cuz who sleeps anyways? Clearly not me)

They told me to call the emergency vet and tell them, I did and he called the only open vet in the area, AND then we had an appointment asap.

I called mom and she basically ran out the door (and told me she didnt even take time to put on a bra xD)

She came and picked me and Pewds up, let me just say that shes like almost 15mins away, but she got here f a s t

We arrive and I tell the vet that hes been struggling to pee for almost 2 days, hes hissing and growling (not to me or the other cats), hes drinking water and have been kinda meh on the food.

I changed the food cuz they all started to throw up by the food theyve had for 10years...

And I told him I havent been the best at changing the litterboxes, or emptying them...

And the cats are fucking champs, they will only go in the box, even if. But it's not a "wow my cats adapted to my depression, awesome" its fucking serious, if fucked up BAD.

Because, the food I started giving them gave Pewds more crystals, cuz cat food have that for some reason, and if you dont change out sand and poop scoop often, that can ALSO give them urine infection.

AND its "common" for elderly and sterile male cats to get the infection, so that's a thing to remember.

Is it my fault? Dont know, could I've prevented it? Possibly.

Am I gonna be fucking better? Absolutely!

Back to the status of Pewds

After he stopped being all drugged up, he just looked genuinely pissed, which I get.

Drinking water, trying to pee, sleeping A LOT and only when I pick him up and put him on my lap, he starts to seem like Pewds again🥺

Headbuts, washing my face (trying not to remember hes constantly washing himself), purring and holding onto me in his sleep.

I've been inside the bathroom with him for hours, towel, a pillow and a blanket, and I've been up against a wall and Pewds on my lap or close to me as I've slept (and my neck and ass hurts like hell) hes peed on me, and I've let him cuz poor boi.

His wet food, given by the vet, that smells worse than any other I've smelled:

Come sunday night, 3am.

I've googled and learned all I wrote on top, and I'm sobbing, having a full on panic attack, just holding him and breaks and try not to cry on him.

I call the emergency vet dude again, tell him it's me from Saturday morning, update him and let him know about Pewds current behaviour and if it's ok, is it normal?

I tried not to cry on the phone, but I basically thought he was declining cuz of me.

But!

Everything is as it should be, all hes doing is normal, sleeping more is fine, didnt eat ALL the wet food? As long as hes eating, hes fine.

Randoming peeing with a tiny but of red colouring? Normal and fine.

So I calmed down, and sat with Pewds until I went back out to sleep. Woke up 3 hours later, put him in the cage and sat it in the hallway and I cleaned the bathroom, since it stank of piss, now hes just sleeping and relaxing, he seems fine, and nothing is screaming danger.

Google have helped, I talked to a dude I have on xbox cuz hes had a cat that *died* cuz they didnt catch it in time. So I'm lucky, Pewds is lucky.

Now we're just waiting for tomorrow, Tuesday, to see what the vet says.

Updates this post then.

Here is a fresh pic of him now:

Jk

[arcplaysgames]

You're not my dad, bro

I think Nanako is maybe everyone's dad though, lmao. "Are you causing trouble under my roof, father? Are you starting shit? 'Cause I'll end it."

Thanks for the assist, Nanako. She is singlehandedly going to keep this investigation going just by providing cover for me and my dipshit crew who bring fucking full sized katana to the food court.

uh.

holy shit

It is after dark. I just went up to my room to sleep. and my homeroom teacher is calling me and asking me to meet him at a gas station.

right sure okay i'll just go do that, that seems normal and not likely to end in a third fucking murder, yep sure, just gimme a sec to run up to my room and jot down my final will and testament, i'm sure nanako knows where the nearest notary public is in inaba and is willing to get it signed for me, mmhm

BRUH WHY ARE YOU CALLING ME AFTER DARK AND MAKING ME COME OUT TO GIVE ME THIS, IT IS A SUNDAY NIGHT, SCHOOL IS TOMORROW, YOU WOULD HAVE SEEN ME

breathe

its fine. okay.

anyway. after that brush with death, yosuke and chie talk about their shadow selves and note that Reverie didn't have one before attaining his Persona. Now, Yosuke thinks Reverie got his persona outside the TV!Saki Liquorstore, but we know from being the player that Reverie had Izanagi in a dream the first night after arriving in Inaba.

Which. Yep. Pretty weird. Metatextually, we could be Shadow Reverie, but that doesn't seem MegaTen's style. I hasn't known one to tap on the fourth wall in that specific way yet.

Whatever, I'm not going to guess this from the start. As long as it's not Ryoji again, I'm fine with it. We can literally only go up from Ryoji.

Chie's the Chariot. That tracks. Forward momentum at all costs. The Chariot is meant to learn to wield the reins, unifying conscious and subconscious to gain more control. I'm cool with this.

Velvet Room. The spoiler-free walkthru I'm using (I heard a suggestion to use it for the first month just to learn about various mechanics bc P4G has a LOT) had me leave and re-enter, and Marie seems just thrilled to bits to see me. At this point, I am becoming inured to the fact that literally no one is nice ever in this town. SIGH.

Marie is... not of man. Okay. /blinks

What is the Velvet Room... Margaret says everything that occurs in here is tied to our destiny and specifically the contract we have to fulfill. In P3P, no one but FeMC could see the Velvet Room, and in P4G, same case.

Nngh this is the kind of thing I wanna crack like an egg but the answer genuinely might be "this place is a vehicle of the story (pun intended) and exists to facilitate it."

So the Velvet Room is Atlus. There, I solved it. Quod erat demonstratum.

Because Marie is "not of man" (a term Margaret pointedly refuses to elaborate on) I should take her out to explore the world outside, apparently. Like my dates with Elizabeth in P3P.

Please don't blush, you're a bit too tsuntsun for me right now.

Margaret also calls me the next morning to talk about quenching my heart's yearnings, so I think she wants me to go find Akihiko and cry into his ample pecs until he hugs me because I am SO ALONE in this town.

But first I have to join a sports club. And culture club? I have zero recollection of these. I think I may have even skipped a sports club in my initial PS2 playthru bc I'm petulant and hate sports. Buuuut I need S-Links.

So:

do you know akihiko gives good hugs? i mean that's why he spent three years in boxing club, right? to give better hugs?

you know who i know gives good hugs? Mitsuru. she'd pull a whole jennifer lopez "come into my coat" thing, i bet you