#but my brain has been garbage lately

[acmelab]

stuff i doodled when i was wondering if they ever have to deal with their fur getting fluffier for the winter

[gu6chan]

99% just my autism speaking here but something ive been noticing lately that im sorta kinda 😶 about is when ppl are like "I think you'll like this" but not bc they ACTUALLY think you'll like it, rather they just got into it and want you to also get into it so "I think you'll like this" is a nice personal hook. i love chill stuff as much as any other person ofc but given i don't divulge that EVER, what makes you think my berserk reading, made in abyss watching, drakengard playing ass would like YURU CAMP????

[hickeygender]

the last remaining threads of my sanity are slipping through my fingers rn 🚬 😑

[hecksupremechips]

Girl help I keep thinking about freaking persona 4

[hotvintagepoll]

Trying to get more into old movies because of this blog (I only know about half of these people and feel like a poser) do you have good recommendations on where to start or is it just a situation where you watch stuff and find what you like as you go?

you are not a poser <3 i myself am just here for the hotties.

here is my quick and dirty list of fun films to start with if you're new to old movies. and of course if you like one of these, do try to find more stuff as you go! there's no bad way to try out old movies.

(this list is not official and is SUPER quick. i'm tagging for content warnings where I can, but if I forgot something let me know.)

"I want to watch something SILLY!"

The Court Jester (Danny Kaye, Angela Lansbury, Glynis Johns, Basil Rathbone)—everyone in this movie is hot. everyone is in fancy medieval dress, which makes them hotter. everyone here is very silly. You can stream this on Hoopla, last time i checked, so you might be able to stream it through your library!

Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang (Dick Van Dyke, Sally Ann Howes, Lionel Jeffries, Gert Frobe)—some people hate this movie and to them I say What Is Wrong With You. dick van dyke is a hot absent minded inventor who lives in a windmill with his two adorable children, his gorgeous sheepdog, and a grandfather who is categorically useless. it feels like the two films mary poppins (1964) and willy wonka (1971) had a baby and that baby was born on roller skates singing an old broadway showtune. this one has been showing up in some odd places lately—I think you can catch it on Tubi or Hoopla? It's definitely around.

Seven Brides for Seven Brothers (Jane Powell, Julie Newmar, Howard Keel, Russ Tamblyn)—my problematic fave. everytime i watch this i change my mind whether it's a sexist pile of garbage or a feminist paean, and fellas, today we're on the feminist paean bandwagon!! jane powell's millie is truly the star of the movie, she is the hero she drives the plot the narrative is on her side, and besides all that there are seven very hot men dancing next to her and six beautiful ladies making me bisexual. (on Tubi last I checked.)

The Duke Is Tops (Lena Horne, Laurence Criner)—I get a huge kick out of watching Laurence Criner and Ralph Cooper swindle everybody while also trying to put on a show; there's just something silly and sincere here, plus you get a ~musical extravaganza~ at the end when all is right as rain again. Free on YouTube I think?

"I want to watch something DRAMATIC that may make me FEEL SOMETHING."

Witness for the Prosecution (Marlene Dietrich, Tyrone Power, Elsa Lanchester)—I love a campy twisty turny mystery, don't you? :) I'm not going to talk about this one much because it's better to go in blind, but if you like Agatha Christie stories you'll probably like this.

To Be Or Not To Be (Carole Lombard, Jack Benny)—always relevant, always makes me laugh, also makes me cry. this takes place in poland during wwii so big tw for nazi imagery and mentions. (don't worry. this movie fucking hates nazis.)

Seven Samurai (Toshiro Mifune)—this one is Great Cinema™™™™™™™™™™™ for a goddamned reason

"I want to watch some stuff with the scrungles in it!"

Mr. Washington Goes to Town (Mantan Moreland)—I've been checking out more of Mantan Moreland's stuff because every time I see him in something I think he's delightful, and I really enjoyed this silly-spooky comedy. Does this story have a brain cell? No. Are the special effects and goofy slapstick fun? Yes. This is a fun example of an all-Black cast in a film that was made for Black audiences, and is a striking counterpoint to the stereotypical representation Black actors were given in white-targeted films, showing the enormous amount of talent and artistry the racist studios missed out on by excluding these actors. This is not A Great Film™ but it's still A Fun Time,™ with a goofy Laurel and Hardy type vibe. (It's free on Youtube.)

The Red Shoes (Robert Helpmann, Leonide Massine, Marius Goring)—hey kid, you wanna watch something fucked up? This movie is so fucked up. It's about ballet, it's about art, it's about technicolor, it's about dance and toxic relationships and making theatre and nightmares and ambition and death. A lot of these recs tend on the silly side (because I tend on the silly side) but this one is actually Serious Film and will definitely help you chat up Martin Scorsese should you ever meet him. Big content warning if you can't handle dark themes right now—this movie's pretty dark, not in the gore way but in the Haunting Creepy Image way. (it's also free on Tubi and Kanopy most of the time.)

The Invisible Man (Claude Rains)—my favorite of the vintage horror flicks and a great introduction to Most Dunked On Hot Vintage Man of All Time, Claude Rains. (it helps that you barely ever see him!) Very very silly but the special effects are just plain fun. (I think this is on Internet Archive in full?)

"Can I just get more hot people please?"

Flower Drum Song (James Shigeta, Nancy Kwan, Miyoshi Umeki, Jack Soo)—there are so many unbelievably hot people in this movie which is somehow very good (thanks to its cast) and also incredibly, horrifically bad (thanks to its white team of writers, directors, and producers). on the one hand, it's a mostly Asian cast in a big budget, beautifully designed MGM style musical! there's dream sequences, lots of fun dancing, crooning Rogers & Hammerstein cabaret moments, and just charm galore. it is also freighted with so. many orientalist assumptions and stereotypes, absolutely ridiculous shit that the writers ABSOLUTELY should have known better about in the 60s and nonetheless carried into this. this is a hard one to recommend because I loved this cast, and I loved seeing them in a context beyond the usual stereotypical bit parts so many of them frequently were limited to—yet the movie itself perpetuates so many stereotypes on its own it can be a hard one to watch, and I totally understand if it does not work for most people. tl;dr watch for Shigeta, Kwan, Umeki, and the others, but content warnings galore for one (really bad) case of yellowface casting, orientalist tropes, extremely stereotypical character types, etc. (On Tubi/Kanopy last I checked.)

Charade (Cary Grant, Audrey Hepburn, James Coburn)—this movie feels like a Hitchcock movie except I had a ton of fun watching it, which I can't always say for a Hitch film. (I told you my taste was bad.) This one is free on YouTube and thank god because Audrey wears a lot of Givenchy, Cary Grant wears spectacles and keeps almost dying, it's very exciting and thrilling and funny and sexy. I don't think there are any content warnings but it's been a minute since I watched it. (I should go watch it right now.)

The Big Sleep (Humphrey Bogart, Lauren Bacall)—they're so hot askjdljhjghladkghjksahkhgslkahgshskjhgsalhgsahgjh. i like this one a lot :)

[this is NOT A FULL LIST of all the hot vintage movies to start with but it might give you some starting places! i banged this out as quick as I could at 2 am, so apologies that it's sloppy and not perfect.]

[carmenized-onions]

The Other Shoe | Consultation

logline; old wounds tend not to heal, if you don't let them. but, there is hot chocolate, and love. so perhaps that's enough.

[!!!] series history, this is the seventh; First, Second, Third, Fourth, Fifth, Sixth

Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin’ added to. Finally got Hozier on here. Don't know how that took me so long.

portion; 3.1k

possible allergies; two absolutely garbage mental states of people who are NOT over Mikey or the way they've been treated. Bunch of self-loathin, the whole lot.

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (no pronouns!)

Took me a minute, new jobs goin' well though!! This one took a lot of stewing, lmao. Lot of staring and thinking. We'll talk after, but SO many alterations were made lmao.

It has been three weeks since you met Carmen in a freezer.

Six days since you were at his apartment. Ish.

Roughly forty-three weeks since the worst day of your life. Doesn’t feel like it.

In five days, you’ll have the second— Well, maybe third or fourth, worst day of your life.

But today is Monday, and you don’t know what’s coming yet.

It’s just after one in the morning, and you wake up to a phone call. Carmy. Yes, do not disturb was on. Yes, you’d set him on priority access— Which most people would find very cute and intimate, and it is— But he’s not the only one. It’s not a limited feature for people you want to kiss. There’s Syd, Richie, …Mikey…

Cause when is the right time to delete a dead friend’s contact info? It’s not right now. You know it’s not right now. And it probably won’t be tomorrow, either.

Phone call. You’re getting a phone call.

“Carm?”

“…”

You stir a little, bit, when there’s no reply, brain dehazing. “Carmy? Everything okay?”

You hear the beep of the phone call being ended. No way he butt-dialed you, right? You’re awake. You’re so awake. This feels all too familiar, and that's not a good thing. You immediately open your phone to text him, by the time you get to his contact, he’s already texted you. Actively texting you, in a rapid, manic succession.

‘fuck’

‘sorry’

‘you were supposed to be asleep’

Hm.

‘talking to a person hard right now?’

‘yes’

‘you’re so smart.’

‘easier to talk to robot you.’

‘wowwww’

It’s hard to write funny, right now. It’s hard to act like yourself, right now. You’re not sure how you’re doing it.

‘not what I meant’

‘I know. You’re you.’

‘you wanna send a voice message maybe?’

‘it’s fine. I’ll text.’

You give him time, you expect a paragraph since he’s taking so long, but instead you get,

‘can’t.’

‘carmen.’

‘I like you so much.’ Oh be still your stupid heart.

‘feeling is mutual.’

‘I can’t make my problems the only reason I talk to you’

Is that true? Fuck, that's kind of true, isn't it? But there's the puzzles! And there's been phone calls!

‘You talk to me for other reasons’

‘yeah. But it’s mostly problems’

‘with me.’

‘eh. Not really. Walk-in was you, toilet was Mikey, Nat had a baby, I’d consider the oven a shared problem of you and Syd’

‘oven was my fault’

He types for even longer this time. It’s hard not to interrupt him. When you start to type, he sends.

‘can I come over?’

‘I know it’s late’

‘I’ll come pick you up.’

‘no’

‘I’ll walk. I’ll be there in 20.’

‘it’s not a problem to pick you up.’ It's a problem if he doesn't let you pick him up.

‘I know.’

‘promise I just wanna walk. Get air.’

God, why are your fucking hands shaking he just wants to walk. He just wants to walk. Why can’t you bring yourself to believe people when they say that anymore?

Everything’s normal. It’s been a good six days for Carm, you know that it’s been a good six days. Everything's normal. You’ve kept a puzzle streak every morning, you’ve called him some nights, he’s called you some nights. He’s had a good week. He told you so. Everything's normal. You’ve vaguely flirted in that extremely sexual yet completely nonsensical way new situationships do, via text. People don’t do that when they’re on the brink of death, right? Everything's normal. Stop playing with your pendant. Relax. Put a shirt on. Stop being so fucking paranoid. Stop typing—!

‘can you do me a favour’

‘anything’

‘can you turn your location on for me’

‘not to be invasive. You can turn it off when you get here, I—’

Before you can even finish typing your explanation, let alone send it, he sends his location, trackable. He’s already walking.

‘be there in 18.’

You watch, with bated breath, his little contact photo bubble marching across Chicago to you. You make yourself mildly presentable and make hot chocolate on the stove—Gotta use milk, for Carmen— For when he comes to you, out of the cold. Because he’s going to come to you. He’s gonna be here. He’s gonna be here. You know that because you’ve been keeping your phone screen open and only look away to ensure you don’t pour milk on your stovetop and to blink.

He's here in eighteen minutes. You think if you had a stop watch going on, it’d be down to the millisecond. You open the door for him, before he can even knock. You watched his bubble walk up to your door. No point in waiting. You need to see him.

He’s breathing heavy. Held tight in his fist is a bundle of flowers— Importantly, not a bouquet, a bundle of flowers—Like, roots still on a few, visibly yanked out of the ground. Though seemingly from different gardens, since there's quite a variety. He looks at you, then down at the flowers, then back to you.

“I— I stole these.”

“Had a feeling.” You wave your hand for him to come inside, he does. “Are you okay?”

His steps falter, he seems downtrodden. You take the flowers, and then take his hand. He hesitates to speak, but he’s really trying to say fucking something. You squeeze his hand, it seems to help.

“I—” He swallows the spit caught in his throat. “I didn’t know— I— No. No, I did know— I knew the one place I had to come was, here. Had to go somewhere.”

You nod, you look over him. Silently doing a wellness check. You’re panicked. You’re so panicked. But he can’t know that. This is about him. You’re the one that takes care of people. He’s clean. He smells like Old Spice and you. He’s a little cold from the walk, he didn’t wear a jacket, but he’s warming up fast. He looks tired but not exhausted, which, for Carmy, is kind of as good as you’re going to get. He didn’t have the energy for a phone call, but he had the energy to come over and talk to your face; his social battery is wonky, but that’ll fix with time here. Is he hungry? That’s hard to tell on looks alone.

“You wanna talk about it, Bear?”

He nods, head down. Can’t look at you. You gently pull at his hand for him to follow you into the kitchen. “Made hot chocolate. You a marshmallow or whipped cream guy?”

His eyes are glassy, and his mood itself doesn’t change, but he does swiftly lift his head up to look at you with an incredulous, curious half smile. “You don’t do both?”

“I find it gets a lil’ busy. But I like the tiny marshmallows that come with the mix with whipped cream—”

“You gotta do actual cocoa.”

You roll your eyes. “I don’t like my hot chocolate to actually be rich. I want sweet.”

“You’re breaking my heart.”

“Good thing I’m a repairman, then.” You deadpan. He does actually seem to glow a little bit, at that. You repeat, hand full of flowers resting on your hip. “So both?”

“Both.”

He calms you down so easily, even when really, he was the oncoming stress— Or rather, your perceptions. He clears static for you, without effort. You nod, letting go of his hand— Slowly, withdrawing, like a silent promise that you will be back. You grab a paper towel and wrap the flowers in them, setting them down on the counter. You’ll plant them later. Honestly, kind of a better gift for you and your green thumb than a bouquet would be.

You turn to your oven to stir the pot of hot chocolate— Can’t have any fuckin’ clumps for Mr Michelin over here. Speaking of Michelin, he sidles up behind you and puts his head on your shoulder, hands hovering as if he’s going to hug your waist but simply cannot bring himself to.

He mumbles into your shoulder. “I lit my oven on fire.”

Ah. The oven was his fault. That's what he meant. When you pause and try to turn, that’s when he hugs you, holding you in place. “Please don’t look ‘t me.”

You take a deep breath, and continue to stir the pot. “Okay. I’m listening, not looking.”

“I did— I did it in my sleep. Not the first time. I think, I think they’re night terrors? But I don’t, don’t scream or nothin’— I don’t say shit actually. I don’t think.”

God, he’s insecure, even now, about how crazy you’ll think he is. Like telling your therapist everything that’s wrong with you except for the stuff that they might hospitalize you for. God, does he treat you like a fucking therapist? He’s awful. He’s awful for you. He’s awful for anyone. It doesn’t matter that you’re different— The common denominator is him. He’s a fucking piece of shit—

“I wake up screaming sometimes.” You reply, so softly. You feel his short nails dig into your sides just slightly for a second as he remembers where he is. He’s over your shoulder. No one’s over his. “Happens to the worst of us.”

You grab two mugs from the cupboard— Reaching with the arm he’s not leaning on. “Did you put it out or should I be calling my former C-F-D crew?”

“I put it out.” He notes your mugs. They’re mismatching. One is definitely handmade with messy floral patterns, the other a tourist trap Chicago mug.  They’re perfect. “I—I was cooking something, in my sleep— And then— Then the fire starts.”

You ladle the hot chocolate into the mugs— Usually you’d just pour it straight but you don’t want Carmen to watch you inevitably spill half of it on your counters. You nod, “Do you dream that you’re cooking?”

“K-Kinda? I’m not cooking, I’m the Head, the expediter— And, and my Exec is over my fucking shoulder and he’s— Just in my head.” He swallows, thinking of how to explain without explaining. “And then I wake up, and there’s a fire, and I watch it grow, and I think about what it would mean if I just let it, and how I’d want it to.”

“And then you put it out?”

“And then I put it out.”

“Do you wish you didn’t?”

“I don’t know. And it’s fucking with me. ‘Cause— ‘Cause things are really good right now.” You tense under him, and he knows it’s because you don’t believe him. “They are, they really really are. Sug bein’ away is… not easy, but, it’s, it’s okay—”

“Carm.” Your tone is so accusatory.

“It’s the same nightmare it used to be.” He doesn’t hesitate to correct as soon as you question it. He cannot lie to you. For one, you see right through him. For two, it’s you. You’d rather know he’s insane. For some reason. “It’s been hard. I— I know fuck all, about business, and, and we can’t afford to hire a fuckin’ replacement right now because we owe so much fucking money or the whole thing caves— But it’s— It’s been good.”

You grab a handful of mini marshmallows, splitting them between the two mugs. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He nods into your shoulder. “Everyone is… happy, right now. It’s not always fuckin’ breezy but— Everyone’s, everyone’s okay. And I have somethin’ I can actually be proud of, right now. And I have— I — You’re around. N’ that, that has been good. For everyone.”

You hum. Heart full, at that. You awkwardly shift to your fridge, waddling like a penguin instead of turning, as not to disturb Carmen, he chuckles against your shoulder. “You can tell me to fuck off, y’know.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want you to.” You hug his arm to you. This makes him squeeze just a little tighter. You pull out a half-empty can of Reddi-Wip, shaking it violently, as instructed. “Say when.”

You hover the can over the tourist mug, he shakes his head. “Other one.”

He wants the handmade one. Your fingerprints are grooved into the handle. You ignore how insane this makes you feel, and spray whipped cream into the handmade mug. You’re waiting for him to say when.

It’s getting to a concerningly tall pile, at this point. You feel him swallow. He finally says the quiet thought out loud.

“I think I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. Even in my sleep, I know it’s coming.”

You nod, you stop spraying. You think on it for a beat. You opt to be honest. “I am, too.” You nod. “I am, too.”

“What’d’you think it’s gonna be?”

You feel your neck flare red and hot, guilty. Horrifically guilty. Lifesaver. You spray whipped cream into your own mug. You don’t really want both whipped cream and marshmallows, but it’s a good way to disguise how shaky your hands are. You take a deep breath.

“Think you’re gonna realize I’m not as good as you think I am.”

He kind of, tugs at you, pulling you closer to him, as if to rebuke thee. “You’re very good, Tony.”

You just hum in reply, once again, the pile of whip cream grows— It sputters, and basically nothing is coming out, but you can’t bring yourself to move, so it continues to struggle. He lets you do this, for a moment, before softly, questioningly speaking your name.

You just hum, again. Everything’s fine. Everything’s normal. This isn’t even about you, this is about him. “I’m good.”

“You are.” He declares, like it’s law. He grabs the empty can from you hand and puts it on the counter, then turns you around to face him. You keep your head down, there’s every chance you throw up and die if you— “Look at me.”

“I know—” He does not give you the chance to excuse yourself, he grabs your chin, softly, but still, forces you to look at him.

“You’re very good.” Too much eye contact. Too close. Too sincere. Too much— “Too good, too good for anyone.”

Too good for him. You, of course, don’t think that. But that’s exactly why you’re too good. “I’m not gonna change my mind ‘bout that.”

“…Hope so.”

Carmen can see it, now. The way your jaw clenches, how you’re looking past him, not at him. The way you mirror how he imagines he looked in the walk-in, to you. He decides to take a page out of your book, and hugs you close. “Know so.”

Your chin hooks over his shoulder. You stare down the hall of your apartment, brain somewhere else. He stares over your shoulder at the hot chocolates, whipped cream slowly melting and overflowing onto the counters.

“You wanna talk about it?” He asks, and you can’t help but smile at the ridiculousness of it.

“I—It’s not—This about you, not me—”

“It’s both. It can be both.” The shared burden.

You sigh, putting your arms around his shoulders. “…I’ll talk about it eventually, I promise. Just not… Ready—Right now.” You’re not ready to risk him no longer liking you. You need a little more time to be selfishly avoidant. “Eventually, though.”

He nods. He gets it. He does it.

“How do you think the other shoe’s gonna drop? If it does?”

This was the exact question he didn’t want, but you answered it, kind of, and that means he has to answer it, kind of. He relaxes his hold on you. “Think you’re gonna see me when I’m— When I’m not me— When I’m— I’m like, like my fuckin’ family.”

When he’s angry. When he yells. When he’s mean. When his crises don’t take the form of hibernation. When he’s frightening.

“Think once you realize, you’ll leave, and it’ll all leave with you.”

When he said that everyone’s happy at The Bear, he knows it’s because you’re back in the atmosphere. You bring a lightness that he never could, that he always envied in his brother. He honestly needs to break something at The Bear to get you to come in soon, because it’s been two weeks since you made everyone coffee, and your presence is only finally starting to wain in power. He really needs to start paying himself so you can get on bar.

“I don’t love being yelled at, certainly.”

You know what acting like his family means. Mikey used to do it. When things got bad. And while you got better and better at being understanding, still never managed to keep yourself from tearing up. “But it’s nothing that would make me leave. Nothing that’s not worth it.”

Jesus Christ. Jesus fucking Christ. His bad side, his anger, his violence, his teeth, the parts of his functionality that he hates, you consider worth dealing with, for the sake of the rest of him.

It reminds him, of a question that’s been on his mind for a while now. His chin digs into your shoulder, a little bit. He swallows.

“Do you really not think taking care of people is a lot of work?”

You frown, thinking about it. It is a lot of work. It’s exhausting work, rotten work, to take care of people.

“It is a lot of work.” You tilt your head, kiss his clothed shoulder. “But it’s just pure instinct, to do. “I care therefore I care, or somethin’.”

“What a poet.”

“Fuck off.”

You both laugh; then comfortable silence. He’s the first to break it. “You’re good.”

“We’re both good.” You pull back to look at him. Nothing has truly been resolved, and yet he looks more at peace. Thank, God. You’re doing a good job. You’re not failing again. “You wanna go drink these barely warm hot chocolates in my bed and pass out?”

“Please.”

Carmen never turns off his location, and he never will. He doesn't ask why you want it. He takes advantage of the whipped cream on your nose and the severe lack of napkins in your bedroom when he can. He replaces the Cubs jersey wearing bear in your arms, that night. He hopes he will forever, he's pretty sure he won't.

In five days, this Friday will be the worst Friday of your lives.

But neither of you know that yet. The painting is still not finished, he hasn’t yelled at anyone around you yet, Carmen still doesn’t know about the necklace you’ve tucked under your shirt every day for the past year.

The other shoe still hangs in the air; but not in your bed.

You pray it’s fall will not wake the bear.

FUCK bro.

It was tough writing in a way that was coherently incoherent. Like, neither of these two want to talk about their problems, so they are vague, but I know what the fuck is going on-- And hopefully you kindddaaa get what's going on?? There's still a little mystery I'm holding on for myself, hehehe. I'm very curious if anyone has theories by now tbh. What's this hidden part of Tony's life!!! They're usually so open!!! So what's this shit!!!

I cut out like a WHOLE 300 words of them doin' a smooch because it just made no fuckin' sense. They're both in emotional hell, couldn't force it, even if I wanted it. But there was the cuddlin' and nose kissin' in bed. So I think that's a good caveat.

But the most insane part of this chapter for me, and you'll see later, THIS chapter and the next,,,,, 3 chapters? Were all gonna be ONE. I know. Nuts. I was essentially gonna format it like all snippets of this one week, because as we know, Fridays gonna be the worst friday! But I realized like a quarter way through writing this one, that it simply couldn't just be a snippet. It needed to breath as it's own full thing. As did the next 3 chaps. I think they'll be a lot more digestable this way and also it won't force me to hole away for a fuckin month writing it without giving you a single morsel of content.

Anyways, tell me what the fuck you THOUGHT!! I'm excited to hear thoughts, hopefully all good ones~~~

Next Part

[dullgecko]

(Amendment to ask just sent in about Riz collapsing)

Imagine if Riz got sick during that time.

(My brain is obsessed with making Riz sick - probably because it forces him to stop working)

Previous ask they're talking about (Sklonda dies in the fire freshman year scenario)

Riz is living in Seacaster manor, not paying any rent and getting all his food covered and he feels like he sort of OWES Fabian. Cathilda is in Laviathan, Gilear and Halariel go on their year long vacation and Fabian does NOT know how to do ANYTHING housework related.

Riz was more or less looking after his own 'chores'. Keeping his room and bathroom tidy, doing his own laundry, would cook on occasion because he really couldn't abide Cathilda cooking ALL his meals for him she's already doing so much. He sees Fabian straight up incapable of doing any of that himself and just... steps in and does it for him.

Fabian doesnt even notice. For starters he's mostly tuned out chores as sort of background noise his whole life so when the dirty clothes hamper in his bathroom empties itself at the end of the week and all his things are folded and neat in his cupboard again it doesnt even register straight away... and when it does he just chalks it up to a magic hamper?

His bathroom is clean when he wakes up in the morning sometimes, and if they dont order in take away using he tablet (which Riz ACTUALLY knows how to use, so they're not eating JUST fried rice all year) there's usually a sandwich and cut up fruit waiting for him in the fridge if Riz has already gone to school early for club stuff.

It also comes down to Riz just being stupidly stealthy. He gets in super late from club stuff, wanders around the house doing chores and laundry and doesn't even wake Fabian up, then gets stuck in with his study and homework.

Fabians junior year is a LOT LESS stressful and Riz's is... infinitly more so. He's getting so little sleep trying to keep up on all this shit (he NEEDS those scholarships, the insurance payout from his moms death is only going to go so far) and there's no one to really tell him to chill out and get more sleep.

Riz is loosing weight from the stress, it's triggering the stress induced vomiting reactions he used to get in freshman year, and he keeps getting nose bleeds. Kid is running on fumes.

Fabian notices that his clothes are gone from the hamper early one morning but they're not folded back in his cupboard, weird because the magic hamper hasn't malfunctioned like that before. He also doesnt have any lunch in the fridge, and some of the garbage he left in the bathroom is still there.

He goes to complain about all this shit apparently breaking at once to Riz but doesn't find him in his room, which is weird because yesterdays homework is still on his desk and his little suit is hanging up in the closet. Must be still in the house somewhere then, so Fabian goes looking. When he doesnt find him in any of the living rooms or kitchens or any of the normal places they hang out he starts looking in more obscure places.

Eventually he finds him in the laundry (honestly, Fabian has never BEEN in this room so he's surprised when he finds it). There's blood on his face and on the floor but its long dried, there's a half-folded pile of laundry on the little halfling height bench and another stack knocked onto the floor surrounding the passed out goblin. Needless to say, Kristen gets a VERY paniced call from Fabian at half-past five in the morning.

[takes1]

For a request, would you be interested in a bully Dabi x male reader (maybe in a college AU or something. You can decide if you want it to be in the LOV instead)? Reader is constantly picked on and demeaned by him, but one day maybe in a private area reader is cornered, some suggestive content goes on/maybe noncon depending what you want to do, and the reader speaks up when the situation almost goes too far (and normally he is quiet. He’s that nerdy kid afraid to disappoint his parents/and a virgin. So he is scared of what was going on in that scenario.) After, you can decide what goes on from there!

Also to add, my bad about asking make characters. I did read the rules but had no idea what afab of amab means, should of looked it up before asking lol 😂

you're okay! no worries :) i really liked writing this, it's very different from my other stuff. i'm so sorry this has taken so long! will write a part 2 soon and probably end it there!

warnings. barely sfw, slight noncon themes, creepy vibes

details. male!reader / college au / frat au / inexperienced!reader / loser!reader / corruptionkink!dabi / loser!reader / degradation / praise / power play / slight noncon / yandere!dabi / 1.2k words

🤍 scenario series. more dabi and others here.

more links. my ao3 / dabi headcanons / requests open

"No, mom--,"

You almost tripped over your untied shoelace for the third time in the past two minutes but continued to ignore it. Stopping to fix it was scarier than getting a face full of dirty cement.

"No, it's-, okay, uppercase L, did you try the uppercase L yet?"

A rush of adrenaline plumped your veins for a fleeting moment and you gripped your cracked phone like a lifeline. The sound of shoes other than your beat-up Vans scraped across the sidewalk. You turned and there was nothing but the drip of residual rain from gutters, and some trash brushing by a garbage can.

Of course, a Mcdonald's wrapper would be responsible for your fatal heart attack. Or your mother, who didn't understand how to capitalize a letter on her keyboard to enter her bank password.

There was another half mile to your dorm building. When she called you halfway through your journey back from your last late class, you were relieved to have something else on your mind other than the threat of seeing a Brother around.

Pledge Week was Hell. Actual Hell. This must've been your divine punishment for being such a giant fucking loser your entire life-- a cruel joke from God designed to say, 'Look at this dumbass! He's paying hundreds of dollars to get hazed for a week, then ostracized for the smallest hope of feeling like he's a part of something!'

"It's the left side, mom. It says shift on it," You sighed.

This was the first week you hadn't commuted home for the weekend. With no social skills to bank on, there was nothing to do on the weekends except drive two hours home. At least you could be comfortable there. Not necessarily wanted, until they had a technology issue that required a Cybersecurity major -or just any person with brain cells- to fix, but you had your own quiet room.

It didn't change the fact that the Brothers of Alpha Sigma Phi betted on you to join them as a joke. You didn't have any connections or lineage like the other Pledges, but it was funny to pick the scrawny kid and see how long he'd last.

You didn't know how you lasted this long. It was a sort of tolerance that you built up, because Alpha Sig gave you something to do, somewhere to be.

A semester as a Pledge; running errands, attending parties but not allowed to drink, getting shit on at every turn because that was just the culture here and you thought, maybe after you graduate to become a Brother in a couple of days, you would have some real friends.

Another thudding sound of footsteps much heavier than yours. This time, they didn't stop, and neither did you.

The orange glow of streetlamps every 15 feet became markers for your sanity. Only nine more to go before you were at your building.

Your stomach was in your throat. The hand in your pocket clutched your knife.

"You got it?" Your voice was uneven but your mother didn't notice. You wished she would stay on the phone longer, but there was nothing else to talk about.

Even the other seven Pledges didn't associate with you. If they did, they got screwed with more. This week had become a sick kind of lonely, fast.

It was like clockwork. As soon as your phone left your ear, a voice much closer than you anticipated shocked your muscles still.

"Hey, Pledge," It was by far the worst Brother imaginable; the one who seemed to take personal pleasure in your torment above anyone else, "The fuck do ya think you're talkin' to?"

You kept your hand in your pocket. Pulling a knife on him would erase all progress, possibly even make this whole semester's worth of work useless, but you weren't about to surrender your only line of defense when you weren't sure if it would get violent.

Dabi was deceptively glittery under the streetlamp. His piercings gave you something else to look at to avoid eye contact.

"My mom--," You could barely get your words out.

"You're not supposed to speak to anyone this week," He lowered his voice and approached slow because he knew you wouldn't move.

Narrowed eyes watched another student on the other side of the deserted street.

Two years ago, Alpha Sig had been under an investigation for hazing (rightfully so, you could imagine), so the older Brothers were careful about what they said and did in public. In private, everything was still on the table.

So far, the worst thing you were forced to do was the bottling line. This was an activity where they made you and the other Pledges stand in a line to drink an entire bottle of various combined liquors. Each of you had to drink a fair amount, or the last man had to drink whatever was left. You were the last man.

This was already after a knowledge test about the fraternity. If a Pledge got a question wrong about the history of Alpha Sig, he was forced to drink.

Eventually, they made you drink whenever somebody else got a question wrong because you were answering everything correctly.

You had never thrown up so violently at the end of one night before. You weren't sure how you made it back to your dorm, but you woke up at 3 in the afternoon the next morning and didn't bother going to the rest of your classes.

"That includes calling your mommy," Dabi mocked, close enough to be in striking distance.

Every Pledge knew to stay far away from this crazy bastard. He was joked to be so masochistic that he was the one responsible for the investigation in the first place.

But he sought you out so much you had almost seen him every day this week. Enough to count every piercing on his face, wonder what each of his tattoos meant and why he had so many.

He took a glance down to your hand.

"Whaddya got a hard-on or something?"

You shot your hand out of your pocket, knife-less, defenseless, and embarrassed, sparking a smirk across his face.

Your dick was not hard right now, but it wasn't opposed to getting off at the thought of Dabi's big hands, among other things.

It was worth wondering if they could all tell. You weren't flamboyant, but you supposed that not being straight wasn't their only reason to shun you.

You wondered if they knew about Dabi's equality tattoo, a small but mighty symbol under his arm that you managed to get a glimpse of at one party after staring at him too long. He made you his personal servant many times for that problem throughout the semester.

It gave you the chance to pick up on things that weren't so traditional about him.

In truth, it only made your staring worse because you were certain he was more similar to you than anyone would care to think.

He closed the distance between you and sized you up while you put your hands behind your back. You couldn't believe you had forgotten to until now; that was what your class was supposed to do when a Brother called on them.

Dabi's breath was warm and minty on the side of your face when he muttered, "You're gonna show me your dorm, Pledge."

A big, strong hand shoved you hard. Back into the direction you had been walking. There was not much you could do now, other than shakily guide him back to the one place you felt safe.

taglist:

none. reply to be added for part 2!

[loveyjeongie]

Momo Unnie!

word count: 1,972

who: nd!little!momo, cg!nayeon (+middle!dahyun for a sec if u squint very hard, jihyo who is also having a bad day, sana)

“Momo unnie can you help me take out the trash?” “Unnie could you help me with this assignment?” “Momo-ya can you go to the store and grab some milk? We’re all out” “Momo unnie!! can you come here?” “Momo!” “Unnie-“

All day long Momo has been tugged around, back and forth while listening to her name being called from all angles of her apartment. At this point her head was beginning to throb with the worst headache she’s had in months. She wondered how many more times she could hear anything at all before her body exploded.

It bothered her specifically because when she woke up this morning, she was in a good mood. Made her bed, showered, ate some frozen waffles that weren’t for her but she couldn’t resist anyways, and despite her jumping a little more than usual at things, she felt okay. Then her presence started to become a popular request.

“Momo unnie, can you take out the trash for me? I’m running late to drop off Chaeyoung and Tzuyu at their workshop.”

“Sure Ji, leave it to me.” She smiled and thought that it was a simple enough favor she wouldn’t actually mind much, and the garbage was stinky anyways.

Momo took the bag out and tied it into a knot, throwing it over her shoulder. As soon as she reaches the front door, she hears her name again.

“Momo unnie! are you gonna be out long?”

“Nah, i’m just taking the trash out for Jihyo. What do you need, hyun?”

“Oh thank god— I was worried you were going to be gone forever, can you help me with this assignment for my music class?”

Momo hesitated a bit. That would definitely take longer than the trash favor.

“Uh, yeah I guess I can. Let me take this out and i’ll come by your room, okay?”

Dahyun yelled back a “thanks”, already back up the stairs and halfway through her own doorway.

————————————

“Okay, I think you’re doing really well with this part. If you practice it a little more i’ll help you record it so you can send it to your teacher, if you want?”

“Really?! that would help so much unnie, thank you.”

“Of course, if you need any more help just let—“

“MOMO-YA!!” Momo covered her ears as both girls turned around to see Nayeon standing in the doorway.

“Why are you yelling?!” even though Nayeon was normally a loud person, her brain felt like it just rattled inside of her skull.

“Sorry! Can you go to the store please, we’re out of milk.”

Momo sighed. Yet 20 minutes later she appeared back in the kitchen with a gallon of milk and a chocolate bar in her hand.

She moved to the living room, where she sat down on the couch and began to munch on her candy and the cup of milk she poured herself to go with it. She didn’t really feel like she was there. The tv was off, because she was already starting to feel like things were getting too loud, and she just wanted silence. Her brain was beginning to feel incredibly off. Each time she chewed, it made her feel better.

“Is that candy?” Momo jumped and covered her ears again as Sana suddenly popped up behind her on the couch.

“It’s… a chocolate bar. Just got it from the store.”

“Oh!! Can I have a piece? Please please please please unnie~”

She felt her eyes watering, and yet she couldn’t say no. Not when Sana was looking at her with her signature pouty face that always got her everything she wanted. Even tho it was all that was grounding her at the moment.

“Uhm I guess you can…” She looked down at the wrapper and took the chocolate out. “Here, have the rest”

“Thank you unnie!!!” Momo felt herself flinch for the third time that morning.

————————————

Finally, Momo had gone back to her room. Lying in her bed had quite literally never felt better. She contemplated putting her headphones on, but it seemed quiet enough as everyone had gone back to their rooms and were keeping themselves busy so she trusted it to stay that way for a while. Her mind started to wonder, until she was just beginning to doze off and could faintly hear the front door open and close along with someones muffled speaking. There was some more banging around downstairs until it relented and Momo began to fall back into her slumber. That is, until…

The door to her bedroom flung open.

“Unnie.” She didn’t want to move at all, so she pretended she didn’t hear Jihyo from the doorway.

“Momo unnie. Get up.” Her brain started to panic a little bit due to her acting proving to be unsuccessful. But she knew something was up because Jihyo sounded aggravated. Why was she mad?

“UNNIE! GET UP!” her voice was loud, and Momo’s body was shaking— both from her own anxiety and from the sudden closeness of Jihyo who had moved the blanket and was poking her shoulder hard enough to get her to move.

“W-what is it, Ji?” she smacked her hand away and sat up on the side of the bed to face her.

“Are you the one who got milk?”

She blinked. “Yeah?”

“Well, you left it out on the counter. You also left your dirty cup on the couch. Don’t you know how to clean up after yourself?! Please go put them away, I have to cook Dahyun dinner.” With that, Jihyo turned on her heel and went downstairs.

Her head felt bad. Momos head felt really bad. She didn’t understand why the milk was on the counter or remember how the cup got on the couch. Was she processing things right? She could almost hear the blood rushing to her head, and the tears flooding her eyes begging to overflow. Momo was incredibly overwhelmed but she shouldn’t cry— it’s simple. Jihyo just wants her to clean something, thats all.

Momo stood up and left for the kitchen. Her steps were a little bit wobbly and she really did feel very bad. She almost couldn’t tell where she was.

Reaching where Jihyo had gone, she walked to the counter and put the milk that was there in the fridge. It felt heavier in her hand than normal. She also got the cup from the couch and brought it to the sink.

While the water from the faucet filled the cup, she watched until it spilled over and began running over her hand. She felt really weird, she could see the water but for some reason didn’t really register feeling it. It felt like she had stood there forever, until a hand reached over and turned the faucet off.

“Unnie! You can’t let the water run like that! God, that reminds me that the water bill is due today, did you pay it? that’s one of your bills you know.”

Momo just continued to stare at her hand holding the cup in the sink. It was cold, and she didn’t really understand what Jihyo was saying to her. She couldn’t process anything at all. All she could think about was how badly she wished it was quiet, how tired she was of hearing her name, and how small she felt.

It happened so fast she didn’t even know what was happening. A cabinet door closed a little too harshly and she dropped to her knees on the floor sobbing, shoving her fingers as far into her ears as she could— even tho it hurt.

“Unnie? Unnie— what happened?!” Jihyo mirrored her on the floor in front of Momo trying to figure out why she was crying. Momo couldn’t say a word but the closer Jihyo got to her the more she thrashed around trying to get away.

Hearing the commotion, Nayeon had left her room. “Hey guys why are you making so much noi—“ She paused as she observed the scene in the kitchen.

Jihyo turned to her, asking for help.

“Oh, unnie— I don’t know what happened! I was talking to her and trying to get stuff out of the cabinet for dinner and then all of a sudden she started freaking out! I didn’t mean to but she won’t even let me touch her.”

Looking back over at Momo, Nayeon knew immediately what was wrong, and told Jihyo that they’ll order food later and to go to her room for a little while. Carefully, she sat down next to Momo on the floor.

“Hi my sweet girl,” Nayeon tried really hard to leave her voice barely above a whisper so that she didn’t startle her. “You don’t look like you’re feeling too good right now.” Momo shook her head side to side frantically.

“That’s okay, can you tell unnie how old you are? it’s okay if you’re not sure.” Again, Momo shook her head.

“Alright darling, is it okay if i touch you?” At that, the younger girl threw herself into Nayeons arms still sobbing. She held onto her and rubbed her hand in circles gently around her back, putting a little bit of pressure to help her feel better. Nayeon looked down and saw that Momo still had her fingers in her ears, and that they were beginning to turn pretty red.

Leaning down and kissing the top of her head, she took it as a hint to what was actually wrong.

“Is it too loud baby?” This time Momo nodded her head the other direction. Nayeon picked her up and decided to bring her back to her room to avoid anyone coming out and making even more noise.

Sitting Momo on her bed, she crouched down in front of her and gently gripped her elbows. “Can you take your fingers out of your ears for me darling? I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” Momo whined and seemed to push them in even further. Nayeon panicked a little until she remembered about the headphones Momo left in her room for times like this. She didn’t know where she had left them so she began searching through the drawers in her desk and closet until she found them inside the backpack hanging off the back of her chair. Relieved, she brought them back over to Momo and tapped her just enough to get her to open her eyes.

“If you take your fingers out, we can put these on and you can feel a lot better my love.” Momo looked down and hesitated. It was her favorite pair of headphones that she had decorated with Nayeon a few months ago, and they had made sure they got the quietest ones possible. Which is exactly what she wanted right now.

Momo slowly removed her fingers from her ears, grimacing at the soreness and how loud it was again until Nayeon placed the headphones over her ears as soon as she could. Both girls sighed with relief as Momo felt better and Nayeon was glad that Momo felt better.

“Now, do you want to take a nap with me my sweet girl? I’ll even let you hold my bunny” She pulled her sleeves over her hands and wiped the tears that were still stuck on Momo’s cheeks and smiled at the nod she gave.

She tucked Momo into her bed— with her bunny— and quickly sent a text out to their group chat not to knock on any doors or come into their room until later.

Getting under the covers next to her, Momo slid over with the stuffed bunny in her arms and rested her head against Nayeons chest. “If you wake up and need anything just let me know, okay? i’ll be right here.”

Momo definitely still did not feel very good, but at least it finally felt quiet.

[spenglersweetheart]

Soooo…I don’t wanna seem like I’m taking up your time or nothing…but…hear me out..

Reader works with ghostbusters and one day while the other three are on call it’s just reader and Venkman. They are working on the mood slime doing different tests and such. Venkman comes in to do his usual annoying and flirting technique when the reader shows him a ring on their finger and grin

“Sorry toots I’m taken by Dr Egon Spengler”

Then they just continue with work while venkmans just confused like “hEs EnGaGeD”

no bc i actually don't mind you're actually helping with writing muse because lately it was dead so you're doing my brain a justice !! :)

─────────────── ✦ ───────────────

( note, i could not decide who to put for the gif so enjoy all three of them <3 )

Sorry, Venkman, I'm Taken

technically an x reader but love interest isn't in the story? lol idk what to make of this.

WARNINGS : none! just peter being annoying lol

─────────────── ✦ ───────────────

YOU WERE JUST TRYING TO WORK WITH THE MOOD SLIME. While the other three were on a call, you were stuck with Peter Venkman. Sometimes it was bearable. Other times? Well, let's just say he was a bit of a flirt. An annoying flirt. Sometimes you can handle it, sometimes you couldn't. It just depended on how you felt and how patient you were at the time.

This day. You were not so patient.

You were conducting different tests for the slime. He was supposed to be helping. But all he did was pretty much hover over you with his poor flirtatious tactics. You weren't trying to give in to that behavior, as you deemed it immature.

"You're pretty quiet today, toots. You're not your usual self," you hear him say.

Toots. It never fails to make your nose scrunch up in disgust. That nickname made you feel like absolute garbage. But you dealt with it, mainly because you had to work with him.

"That's because I'm concentrating. It's kind of hard when you're blabbering in my ear," you tell him as you look at the cassette tape that's on the pool table.

You're looking at the Farewell to Kings cassette tape that's sitting next to the Jackie Wilson one that Egon has used prior for the experiment. It makes you wonder how it would react to Prog rock instead of the rhythm and blues.

"I wonder what it'll do for this tape," you mutter to yourself, before grabbing it.

You walk over to the radio, Peter following you like the lost puppy that he acted like. You didn't like being so close. It was a thing for you. The only one who could get that close to you was Egon. And right now, you were missing that company.

"Guess we're feisty today, huh?" Peter asks.

"Only because you won't leave me alone," you mumble, "You're supposed to be helping me. You could be doing something useful."

"I am doing something useful."

You close the cassette radio. Turning the tune to Cinderella Man. You turn back around to face him. Your eyes narrow before you walk away. He still follows you around.

"And what exactly are you doing?" You question, crossing your arms, "Because the only thing you have been doing is following me around like a lost puppy."

"I'm observing the mood slime, thank you very much," Peter answered, "I'm observing its reaction to you!"

You rule your eyes. "Oh yeah? And how is it reacting?"

"Very, very positive, toots," he tells you.

He tries to get closer, but you put your hand up so that he doesn't. You happen to raise the hand that had a ring on your finger. You had enough of his flirty antics and advances, and it was about time he knew that you were taken by one of your own colleagues.

"Sorry, toots," you say, almost mockingly, "I'm taken, Venkman. By Dr. Egon Spengler."

His eyes widen in shock while a smirk of amusement crawls onto your lips. His reaction was priceless to you. You just wondered what he had to say about it.

"Wait," Peter says, "He's engaged? Before me? How did Spengs get engaged before me?"

You finally put your hand down. "I dunno. Maybe because he doesn't creepily flirt. He's just himself," you say. You give a smile before walking away. Leaving Peter to think about his life decisions.

"I can't believe this," he muttered, before walking in the opposite direction.

[nausikaaa]

Six Sentence Books Sunday

hello y'all! i've been having a busy week, trying to get all my christmas shopping done before December even begins, because otherwise i know the entire month will escape me and i'll wind up realising i've missed someone on christmas eve. despite my efforts, i still haven't got anything for my dad- usually he's the easy one to buy for, but this year i'm just stumped.

i'm also putting my billy goat Hadrian out with the girls (Juno, Daisy, Lucy and Mina) in just under a week, but Daisy was getting pushed around and picked on, so i separated her last week so she can put on a little weight and relax beforehand, because if she's stressed, she may not come into season. then it snowed. goats are herd animals, they prefer to have company, so i made sure she could see the others through the fence, but it turns out she is absolutely loving having her warm little hut to herself while the others all share the big shed, while Hadrian has a corner of the hay shed to himself, with wickets keeping him from the hay.

flattering photos of the handsome chap and damsel in distress before the snow hit:

sorry for the ramble. anyway! writing! well... i haven't been doing much lately, to be honest. when i'm in a writing slump, i like to read instead, and i view it as putting words in my brain so that it can make it's own words. it also helps me pick out things i do and don't want to emulate in my own writing. so instead of sentences, here are six books I read this year which i took something from:

We Solve Murders by Richard Osman, from which I am taking that it's okay to just use "said" instead of using a billion synonyms, as it blends in to the background and allows the story to flow more naturally. unless the way something is said is really relevant, it's better to show a character's feelings another way.

American Hippo by Sarah Gailey, which has such easy to follow yet engaging action and fight scenes, which I aspire to.

Home Fire by Kamila Shamsie, which had me sobbing inconsolably at the end. if a book prompts a physical reaction in me, that's an instant 5 stars. it's based on the ancient greek play Antigone, and though you don't need to know the play to enjoy the book, it really does deal an additional sucker punch to know how that story ends and yet hope so desperately the whole time: maybe it will turn out okay this time? a masterclass of foreshadowing and implication, somebody can literally die and it go unsaid, but you will know and it will destroy you.

Alcestis by Katherine Beutner. I hated this book. Plot? I barely know her. Consent? What's that? Resolution? Nah, pass. I learned what not to do from this garbage.

Percy Jackson: Wrath Of The Triple Goddess by Rick Riordan. I actually read both of the new pjo books that came out this year and honestly, they've shown me that sometimes a book can just be fun. There's no world ending drama, but still emotional moments and tension, and the whole story takes place over a matter of days. It doesn't have to be perfect, it can just be a good time.

The Amber Fury by Natalie Haynes. As somebody who writes a lot about grief, this book really helped with that by depicting it in such a raw and honest way, allowing the audience to connect with it even if they've never experienced the kind of loss the main character has. I do draw on my own experiences, but this helped me put it into words. It also shows how healing is always possible, no matter how severe the grief, so long as you have the right support system, something I am still muddling through.

an invitation to share some sentences or some books: @forabeatofadrum @cutestkilla @run-for-chamo-miles @roomwithanopenfire @prettygoododds @bookish-bogwitch @ic3-que3n @blackberrysummerblog @j-nipper-95 @youarenevertooold @larkral @that-disabled-princess @orange-peony @aristocratic-otter @thewholelemon @alexalexinii @confused-bi-queer @shrekgogurt @comesitintheclover @raenestee @hushed-chorus @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @noblecorgi @shemakesmeforget @ileadacharmedlife @supercutedinosaurs @artsyunderstudy @otherpeoplesheartachept-2 and @ninemagicks

[magnummagnussen]

dating lance stroll would include...

a/n: i got a request for lance fluff a while ago and it's been on my mind lately, please enjoy my brain rot <3

pairing: lance stroll x fem! reader

warnings: fluff!

first of all, he definitely has the best sweater collection so stealing some of those is priority number one it's freezing in canada pls send some

because they smell like him and not just his cologne

constantly making dumb little facial expressions and voices just to make you laugh (like the clip in his ig video where he says "they're moving, it's a start")

he just wants to be near you

like you'll be reading or doing something on your computer and he will sit/lay next to you doing something else

maybe some little glances and smiles? a head on a shoulder perhaps?

the type to always make sure you have everything you need but also treat you in everyday ways (flowers, ordering food/going out, little trips away to relax)

we know that man is rich but he doesn't want to show it off

he is absolutely the sleepiest boy and if you try to get up before him he'll just hold you tighter

when you do get time off, escaping to a cottage or something (alone or with some friends) and fully disconnecting from the world

hikes, biking (maybe not anymore), campfires

for some reason, i have the thought about just dancing in the living room while listening to music

dancing around the kitchen in the refrigerator light

if you're going to events, he is not only with you all night but he is touching you all night to keep himself (and you) grounded

that man is anxious so he needs a little extra support at social events <3

he's not super into pda but hand-holding, little pecks, and an occasional longing gaze is perfect

because in private? that man is handsy

wrapping his hands around your waist while you're getting ready, touching your legs when you're both on the couch, having casual makeout sessions on the kitchen island, etc.

little ice skating dates!!

i cannot skate for shit but i'm living for this idea

the absolutely garbage hot chocolate at free skates, slowly gliding across the ice while everyone else just laps you, picking you up if when you fall

in conclusion: i need a lance stroll

[cerastes]

How do you rate the gacha booty shooter?

NIKKE sure is a game! It's the funnest mixed bag I've played lately. As a side game, it's been pretty good, because it's good at what it does good, and not terrible at its weak points, leaving you with a pretty "Ok :)" feeling overall.

So what's up with Nikke? Yeah, let's have a talk about that so I can explain a bit by what I mean with "fun mixed bag".

Nikke's setting is the same old tired, you've seen it a million times: Once day, humanity was almost decimated by a mysterious enemy that came out of nowhere... We call it... The Enemy! They were simply too strong, so humanity had to deploy its strongest weapons: Anime Girls. And you are the lucky Authority Figure that commands the Anime Girls to defeat The Enemy! But... The Enemy and Anime Girls have more in common than it seems...!?

Replace "The Enemy" with "Rapture", "Anime Girl" with "Nikke", Authority Figure with... Technically "Commander" but more on this in a bit, and you've got Nikke. In other words, the game's setting and premise are just a few word swaps away from being Punishing Gray Raven, Snowbreak, and a bunch of other properties. But here's the thing: Whereas Punishing Gray Raven tells you its story with all the charm and pizzazz of a Wikipedia article, and Snowbreak... Uh, stands there staring at a wall Blair Witch style because nothing ever fucking happens in Snowbreak, Nikke actually has good moment to moment flow. Allow me to elaborate.

Read More break here because I wrote a lot more than I intended:

Nikke has probably the dumbest premise to open with: The Nikkes are basically superpowered cyborg girls (war machines with human brains) that look like supermodels on purpose because they were created, in the game's own words, "with the ideal form in mind". That's all a wordy way of saying they are super hot girls with very powerful guns and superhuman physical capabilities. The dumb part is that Nikkes are treated like absolute shit in-universe by humans. You're telling me humanity is making cyborgs -- not even full on robots or AI, these are straight up people getting turned into weapons -- that are hot as fuck and have tits bigger than my head and asses that could crush cars under their sheer heft and then decided to hate them and treat them like shit, and also these cyborgs are the ones actually keeping humanity alive? Well yeah we need a reason for the Main Character (you!) to be Special and bond with them, so your thing is that You Don't Treat Nikkes Like Shit. In fact, you care for them.

Now, this is all absolutely fucking stupid, but then, the game sort of... Realizes how stupid it is? And some may say "this was always the plan" but to me personally it feels like they kinda realized how god damn stupid this all was as a premise, and they started veering the car mid-trip because for a while this all feels REALLY sincere, not in a foreshadowing way, but then you have some developments such as "no yeah, Commanders are a dime a dozen, are brainwashed into seeing Nikkes as walking garbage and that they'll be heroes, risk their lives for pennies and are extremely expendable", and there's also what I consider a really good and consistent thing the game has done: Nikkes were always a desperate last minute rushed product as a concept, so the safety measures in place so that they don't rebel against humans were never perfect.

This is what I mean by the moment to moment being good: The plot is absolutely whatever, the setting is something you've seen a million times, but the actual scene by scene, beat by beat, is fun. On the micro level, the game knows how to be entertaining and interesting, and when they expand these micro nuggets of gold to a macro level of writing, it's when they end up with their best bits of narrative and world building. I want to use two examples about the whole safety measures thing: Crow and Rose.

Crow is a Nikke that hates humans and is part of a squad of known dangerous elements that Missilis, the most irresponsible of the Big Three companies, is responsible for. This squad is Exotic, and Exotic works with you (your squad is named Counters) on this one mid-game chapter. The thing is, they never really intended to work with you, and Crow wanted you dead because Crow wants to spark a Human Vs Nikke conflict in the Ark (humanity's last big home), because you might quell the hostility between both sides. But, Nikkes can't intentionally kill humans (accidents happen and a Nikke may be ordered to subdue a human, but they are hardwired to not be able to shoot at them or kill them). So, how does Crow go about it when she betrays you? She has her squadmate Jackal plant a steel plate on the ground, and then shoots the plate in a way that the bullet ricochets and hits you. NIMPH, what's used to, among many other things, make sure Nikkes can't turn on humans, was so, so easily circumvented, and this is consistent with what we've been told about the Ark and Nikke in universe development in general: It's sloppy, it's lazy, it's not good. Rose, the other example, is a Nikke from a flashback story around a hundred of years before the start of the game. Rose was a prototype Nikke that was geared for melee combat instead of ranged combat, as all Nikkes are, and she was one of ten such units. Basically, Rose realized that their human Commander was intentionally trying to get them killed until one remained, which would be deemed the success of the line in Darwinian fashion. Rose got so immensely, justifiably angry at this that she plotted to kill the Commander. How can she do this, though, with the NIMPH that prevents her from doing so? Well, Rose was an actual swordmaster, and what she did was wear a blindfold, convince herself that what she was slicing was not a human, but a Rapture, and then she easily killed the shit out of him, unimpeded by her system. The NIMPH, end of the day, is sloppily made, highly dependent on the mental state of the Nikke, and easily circumvented. This is a very important plot point throughout the story, and the way they show this in multiple ways is really good.

Another thing I like is how the game goes about the player's title. It's technically "Commander" but the truth is, most every single Nikke calls you a different way relative to your relationship with them or their impression of you. Rapi and Anis some of the few that call you Commander, because they are in fact your subordinates, but Rapi says "Shikikan" while Anis says "Shikikan-sama" in a sarcastic way initially and after a while in an affectionately playful way, Neon calls you "Master" (Shishou) because she likes the way you use firepower, Liter calls you "Greenhorn" because you are, well, that in her eyes, Moran calls you "Partner" (Ototou, "little brother" in Japanese) because she's the head of a crime syndicate and she considers you as a cool person under her protection, the sports inclined ones call you "Coach", the school themed ones "Teacher", Viper, the flirty one, "Honey" or "Darling" depending on the scene, and so on, the old timey Scarlet calls you "My Lord", the religious Rapunzel uses "Believer", and the coarse, rough around the edges Snow White just uses "You" (Omae). It's a great touch that I like when it's done.

So, basically, you have a charming combination of a setting that's been overdone infinite times with plot beats that vary between legitimately good (the NIMPH and its logistics) and legitimately bad (Whatever the fuck Chapter 18 was, to name one case), and moment to moment that's really charming and entertaining.

The gameplay is honestly extremely unbalanced, and the sheer disparity in strength between units of the same rarity makes you wonder if they have anyone in the team that actually cares about balance, but honestly, putting the issues of balance aside? It's fun to point at stuff and shoot a million bullets and rockets, and they even get pretty creative with the fights sometimes in terms of enemy types and how they use them against you, so gameplay balance is awful, gameplay itself is suprisingly good for how simple it is.

I know people are going to be like "Dreamer, You Didn't Even Rate The Asses" so okay here:

First of all, the ergonomically perfect ass of the VIXEN that lured me into the game in a moment of weakness, Scarlet:

And next up, the Clothed But Massive Ass of Snow White

In fact, I appreciate the variety, because if it was just bare cheeks and panty shots, it'd be kinda whatever to me, but bodysuit ass and clothed but noticeably huge ass? Fresh, to be honest.

Also notable is that progress in entirely gated by passive production of resources and daily stuff because there's no stamina system. Bold!

But yeah feel free to ask more specific questions, but this is pretty much how I've felt about it.

[forthereaderinserts]

here it is

the writing

sorry if this is garbage lol I have smiling friends brain rot

tw for bad mental health

~|~|~

Your first meeting with the 'Smiling Friends' didn't go exactly as planned. When you had contacted them, you had been in one of the worst mental health spots of your life. This silly-sounding company was your last hope.

When they finally showed up at your doorstep, they were greeted by the stench of depression and old takeout, as well as your ragged form dressed in dirty clothes and sporting ratty hair.

Holding back a cringe at the smell that wafted out the wide open door, Pim put on a brilliant smile and introduced himself and his companion, Charlie. He was slower to suppress his reaction, causing you to blush in embarrassment.

"Hello! My name is Pim and this is my good friend Charlie. We heard you weren't feeling to good, so we're here to put a smile on that lovely face of yours!"

There was a pause in the conversation as he waited for your response, but the sheer force of his unbridled positivity had sent you into a spiral. Charlie, noticing your subtle yet labored breathing and the slight shake you had taken on, was quick to set a new pace.

"Uhm- Hey, why don't we come inside. Talking in the doorway is a little weird, huh?"

That snapped you out of your mental funk, ushering them in with small 'sorry's'. You nudge aside some trash in a feeble attempt to clear a path to your couch. The whole time, the two critters were accessing the situation and coming up with a plan to help you get into a better place.

Once everyone was able to sit down, Pim picked up where he left off, making sure to keep his enthusiasm low.

"So, it looks like you've been a bit depressed lately. I think I know exactly how to help!"

Charlie carried the flow, "We're gonna start by picking up some of the junk. A lot of studies say that your environment plays a big part in your mental health."

Nervousness clawed at your soul, trying to get a solid grip to sink it's teeth down and send you into a full panic. The thought of cleaning was so anxiety inducing and exhausting. It's not like you hadn't tried, but it usually ended with you crying and nothing getting done. You didn't notice but tears had started pricking at your eyes, trailing down your cheeks like hot lava.

When it was clear that you weren't responding anymore, Pim turned to Charlie and tried to figure out how they could turn this disaster of a job around. They decided that Pim would start by gathering up trash and spoiled food into the bin while Charlie sat with you and got you to calm down.

Nodding firmly at each other, they got to work. Charlie moved his chair closer to you and slowly grabbed your hands, stopping you from picking at your cuticles. Your head shot up and you locked eyes with the yellow man. Looking back down at your touching hands, your eyes flickered between that and his face. This might have been the first time you've felt physical contact, let alone comfort, in months.

As soon as he could tell you weren't on the verge, Charlie started to talk softly to you. About nothing important, just some posts he'd seen on the internet, what he'd eaten today, and his opinions on whatever he could think of. His main goal was to distract you while Pim cleaned enough so that it wasn't too overwhelming. He has even piped up a couple times to joke with his friend.

By the end of the day, the living room and adjacent hallway were livable and you were in a much better mood. Technically, you had smiled far earlier into the session, but Charlie and Pim were having such a good time just chatting and tidying that they kept working. This was one of their easiest jobs so far. No guns, no heartbreak, no death. Just talking and cleaning.

When it came time for the two of them to leave, you were disappointed. This was the happiest you'd been in such a long time. They knew that too, so before they walked out the door, they turned to you and offered their numbers. When you looked confused, they explained that they felt you weren't quite ready for normal life again, no offense. They wanted to get you set up with a therapist they had contacts with and maybe even start some medication.

At their words, you teared up again, but this time there was a giant smile stretching your mouth. Surprising the critters, you pulled them into a tight hug and whispered a gentle 'thank you'. This was the best day of your life, you think.

~|~|~

sorry the ending is so rushed I just wanted to get something out lol

[dimonds456]

Howdy!

I'm Dimonds456, and welcome to my garbage pile. I'm a bat who stays up way too late and cannot decide whether or not to be productive. I draw, write, animate, play/write music, and I'm also insane so watch out for that.

I'm neurodivergent, disabled, queer, white, a singlet, fictionkin, and a proud cat papa. I am a cartoon character who is way too bouncy for their own good lol.

They / he / xe!

This is my main blog, but my ADHD ass also has a bunch more.

@dimonds456-art - my art blog! Almost all art gets rbed there!

@dimonds456-but-only-hlvrai - my HLVRAI sideblog! Because yeah why not. This is one of me current hyperfixations lol it's bad

@rubberhose-roy is my sideblog used to gush about 1920's-40's aesthetics, music, culture, ect., as well as an animation blog! All my animations specifically will be reblogged there, as well as any animation rambles or gushes I do.

I have more but those are the main three.

My fandom-specific blogs are:

@dimonds456-but-only-hlvrai (again)

@hlvrai-stuck-together - HLVRAI AU I run!

@halfnautica - Half Life / Subnautica AU!

@a-second-chance-su-au - Old SU AU that has been discontinued, but the blog is still there!

@batim-rewritten - a Bendy and the Ink Machine rewrite I'm working on

@cuphead-contract-au - A Cuphead AU where Mugman makes a deal (discontinued)

And, I have my own OC story, Follychromatic! I reblog all that stuff here, but its main blog is here!

@follychromatic

To see pictures of my cats, check the #Checkers and Chess tag! :D

Okay great. Now, DNI, trigger warnings, disabilities, special interests, and more below the cut. Make sure you read at least once, k? Thanks.

Welcome to my cave!

DNI

Do not FUCKING interact if you are:

- Someone who ships pedophilic, incestuous, or abusive ships while portraying them as positive and a good thing

- A bigot

- An LGBTphobe / transmed / ect

- Trump supporter

- Nazi / fascist / conservative

- Weird about furries or furry art

- Weird about fandom headcanons (specifically trans woman headcanons)

Trigger Warnings

I will tag as much as I can, and if you want me to tag something specific, let me know! But as a general blog cover, things that appear on this blog often are:

- Current events

- Talk of / discussion of sexuality (sometimes boardering on NSFW but not usually)

- Blood

- Guns

- Flashing

- Talk of proshippers (I try to be respectful but also I don't stand for them and I don't support them. I block and move on, and try to explain why proship is bad, but eh. I've only been listened to like once lol)

- Swearing / swear words

- All caps

- Bugs

- Suggestive content / NSFW (RARE DONT WORRY)

I will add more if anyone wants me to, or we can come up with a custom tag, like what I do for one of my friends! (#dimond don't look)

DISABILITIES

Hiiii I'm disabled! Both mentally and physically. I talk about being disabled a lot and try to generate positive talk about it. I also vent about it. I've had quite a few of these, and I also try to reblog as much about others I don't have as I can to increase awareness and understanding. So yeah! These are just the ones I have, but they are not the only ones that appear on my blog!

Hyperthyroidism

Graves Disease

Graves Eye Disease

Astigmatism

Athsma

Audio processing disorder

ADHD

Autism

Trauma / PTSD

Brain fog / disassociation / memory loss

Anxiety

Depression

Cane user

Weak / trembling limbs / trouble walking / trouble holding onto things sometimes

More to be added lol.

This is also a meds/treatment positive blog, a self-diagnosis positive blog, and my general attitude is just "if you think something is wrong you're probably right, you know yourself the best, even if you don't know what exactly is wrong." This attitude has saved my life and other people I know. You don't need a diagnosis or medication to be disabled.

THIS IS A SAFE SPACE.

If you are Jewish, black, brown, Muslim, indigenous, any religion, any race, any sexuality, any weird gender, anything at all- I love and support you. I'm still learning, and I try to learn as much as I can, but I'm not perfect. If I say something offensive or something adjacent, it was NOT on purpose. PLEASE, PLEASE tell me what I said wrong. I will make an effort to improve in the future.

I directly support:

- All races

- All religions*

- All sexualities (except pedos, y'all aren't LGBT, I'm sorry. You're actively hurting children. I've seen it again and again. Stop.)

- All genders and pronouns

- All "weird" identities outside of that as well (I'm fictionkin myself)

- Protests and protesters

- Neurodivergent people of all types (and yes, this means NPD, schizo, and all those other types that are often seen as bad or evil. I love you, I see you, and I support you.)

- DID & OSDD systems

I DO NOT support:

- Antisemitism

- Genocide

- Cults (*stuff like Jehova's Witnesses. I support the members, as they are victims, but I actively dislike the people on top who perpetuate the cycle. Not just JWs, but those are the big ones who come to mind. Hearts out to all the victims, I hope everyone gets to a better place soon)

- Racism in any way, shape, or form

- Religious discrimination of any way, shape, or form

- Israel specifically

- Trump, conservatives, Nazis, ect.

- Endo systems

If I have reblogged or said anything that aligns with the bottom list, that was a mistake. PLEASE let me know and I will fix it as fast as I can. You reading this right now, I love you. I hope my blog can help you feel welcomed and like you have somewhere to go if you need it. /gen

MY FANDOMS / INTERESTS

I HAVE ADHD AND AUTISM AND I'M MAKING THAT EVERYONE ELSE'S PROBLEM /silly

The current special interests are HLVRAI and Half Life, current hyperfixations are Half Life and Poppy Playtime.

SPECIAL INTERESTS:

- Minecraft

- HTTYD

- FNaF

- Undertale / Deltarune

- BATIM / BATDR (unfortunately)

- Subnautica

- Biology

- Steven Universe

- Cuphead

- 2D Animation

- Writing

- HLVRAI

- Half Life

HYPERFIXATIONS (interests but not the special ones):

- Little Nightmares

- Hello, Neighbor (unfortunately)

- Petscop

- Portal

- Freemanverse (HELP ME)

- The Amazing Digital Circus

- The Owl House

- Gravity Falls

- Monster High (very first from what I can remember! I remember nothing though! But it's there!)

- Poppy Playtime

- Half Life

- Wild Kratts (I didn't even know there WAS a fandom until very recently, hi guys)

theres more but my brain is an egg :/

When it comes to ✨me,✨ I have a couple of original works as well! Specifically, Follychromatic! I won't get too into it here (bc shy) but it's 2D animation, rubberhose animation, magic, character-driven, action/adventure, mystery- yeah!

Outside of fandom, though, my special interests are biology, 2D animation, and writing. I am an animator and I suffer for fun.

YOU MADE IT! Have some Checkers and Chess pictures for your time! :)

[anakinsgirlfriendreal]

Parts Of The Truth

Chapter Eight

Warnings: 18+, foul language, maybe some misspelling, infidelity, angst, family issues, discussions of pregnancy and abortion, honestly can't think of anything else lmk.

Padme, placed the phone back in her purse, nervously playing with the hem of her dress, she smiled at the couple across the table. Old friends from Anakin's college days.

"He's on his way, lost track of time with work," she excuses her husband's lateness.

"Oh, so he hasn't changed at all," Owen laughs.

His wife leans into him, "I'd hope he has, from what I remember he was quite a ladies man."

Padme laughs awkwardly, sucking in as much air as her lungs can take and breathing out again, "maybe we should order drinks." She beckons the waiter.

Fifteen minutes later Anakin finally arrives, kissing Padme's cheek and greeting his friends. She smiles when he sits next to her, his hand on her leg. Her face falls when she smells it; when she smells her, the smell of fresh roses and ocean breeze, a combination that could make anyone happy made her sick. Her mind tuned out the voices around her, the music playing in the restaurant, the laughter of their friends just background noise as her eyes zero in on his appearance, noticing every detail, the small wrinkles in his suit, the way he smelled, the way his hair was a little messy. Her breathing got heavy and she felt her heart beating in her ears. She stood up suddenly drawing attention from the trio around her. "Uh, sorry, I just- I need to use the bathroom," she excuses herself.

He looks up at her, "What's the matter love?" He asks his eyes soft. She shook her head, smiling.

"Maybe I should've stayed light on the margaritas, I'll be back." She walks away from the table and further into the bistro where the bathroom was.

Locking the door, she tried to calm herself down, gripping the sink, he felt her tears fall, she tried to compose herself, she lets out a small sob. Lately she'd been crying a lot; every time he came home smelling like roses, like the freshness of the ocean, every time he came home with his suit wrinkled or his hair disheveled claiming he was just stressed at work and got a bit comfortable, every time he'd reject her because he wasn't in the mood, every time he'd yell at her for pushing the idea of adoption or every time he didn't come home and didn't call to say where he was or if he was okay.

She dried her tears, reaching for her phone in her purse, finding your number.

You groan, reaching for your phone on the coffee table, pausing your show, you couldn't sleep so you decided to melt your brain with whatever garbage was trending, and the interruption was highly unwelcomed. Your mood lightened when you realized it was Padme.

"Padme hey" you smile as of she could see you over the phone, your mood dampens when you hear her voice, she sounded so sad.

"Hey, I just- I don't know why I called I don't know what's wrong with me I just needed to talk."

"okay, okay what's the matter"

"We're- we're at a restaurant right now, and and he was late and I just knew I just knew that he was with her and when he hugged me I could smell her and I just don't know if I can do this anymore" she cries.

You swallow the lump in your throat, if hell exists you were definitely leading the line there. "Padme I'm so sorry." It's all you could ever say.

"I feel so stupid," you can hear her sniffles "Ugh men don't you just wanna punch 'em right in their stupid perfect faces." She chuckles humorlessly.

"Well I know that feeling," you snicker.

"I'm sorry if I interrupted it's just nice to chat you know, I don't mean to burden you but you're like the only friend I have that gives a shit."

Your stomach twists into knots, "You don't burden me Padme."

You can almost hear her smile and you know it's sad, "thanks, alright well, I'm gonna splash some water on my fav and get back out there. Tell Darcy I say good night." She hangs up.

You put the phone down, running a hand over your face.

"You are so fucked up," Grace laughs.

You look at her warily, an annoyed expression on your face. "Grace."

"Relax, I got your back, secret's safe with me." She drags her fingers over her lips like a zip.

The next few weeks were nothing short of horrible, you now remembered why you and Grace never got along. She was constantly on your back about Anakin, walking around the house like she owned it, telling Darcy things she shouldn't know. You were going insane. Your mother was smart to ship her to you instead of dealing with her difficult personality on her own.

On top of all that you were sick; throwing up, constantly nauseous type of sick.

"Maybe you're pregnant" Ahsoka says, hands under her chin as she stared at you with raised brows.

You scoff, you hadn't even considered that. "Don't even joke."

She shrugs, "I'm just saying, this is exactly how you were when Darcy was cooking."

"I'm not pregnant okay, that's- actually not crazy" you shake your head, "fuck"

"is how you ended up here" Ahsoka quipped.

You chuckled, "that's pretty good."

She was about to respond when she's interrupted.

"Y/n." Padme approaches you, swiftly. Ahsoka's brows raised, you had told her of your new friendship, she thought you were stupid for that of course she was right.

"I thought I'd find you here, it's five soon, I thought we could do drinks" Padme turns to Ahsoka, "you're welcome to join."

Ahsoka smiles, "I would love to."

Padme claps, "Great, I could use the strongest...whatever they've got."

You sat at the bar with Padme and Ahsoka, shaking your head as Ahsoka took in all Padme's relationship drama. "I don't know, it's not like I've caught him right, but I know that he's cheating." Padme shakes her head, sipping her drink, "I can smell her on him as soon as he walks through the door." She turns to you, "Hey why aren't you drinking, we should get you a drink," she looks for the bartender. Her words were already slurred and you could tell she was tipsy.

"oh she can't drink" Ahsoka says.

Padme looks between you two, "well why the hell not" her eyes scan your face and then soften when she realizes, "oh, you're pregnant, honey that's amazing, congratulations."

You put your hand up, "well I'm not sure, I haven't taken a test."

Padme smiles, "oh, oh well then we're gonna buy one and do it right now!"

Ahsoka, who was also tipsy, nods along enthusiastically. "I LOVE THAT IDEA," she yells in your faces. Padme claps and calls over the bartender to pay the bill.

That's how you ended here, sitting in the stall of a drug store bathroom, peeing on a stick while Ahsoka and Padme laid on the floor peeping up at you.

"You guys are so weird"

"We love you" Padme says and you feel sick again.

You pick your cuticles waiting for the five minutes to be up, longest wait of your life. When the timer on your phone rings, Padme picks up the stick, staring at you excitedly, almost like she was the one pregnant.

"It's positive!"

You hit your head against the wall.

Padme frowns, "Oh come on this good right? Darcy will have another sibling, you'll have another baby- unless..."

You shake your head, "I can't keep it."

Ahsoka pouts, hugging you, letting your tears wet her sleeve. "Hey hey it's okay, that's your decision."

Padme sighs, in her mind she couldn't understand why someone wouldn't want to keep a baby, but that's because she struggled so much to even keep a pregnancy, she pushes her own feelings aside.

You hold your head in your hands, "I don't know what I'm doing." You confess. "I can't have another baby, what am I even thinking"

Ahsoka rubs your back, Padme looks in thought, "what about the father? He can support you, whoever he is. I don't mean to pry."

You shake your head, "he's-it's complicated." You almost out yourself. "He's travelling for work, his career is at it's peak, we just can't afford to have another baby." You cover up. Ahsoka is silent, she knew; of course she did, you always tell her everything.

Padme nods, taking your hand, "Well you have us, whatever you decide we'll be right here with you" she smiles, god you hate yourself. "Also if you decide not to keep it, at least you won't have to rip your vagina all over again, that's good right." It makes you laugh.

"Yeah that's something."