#he said they charged him for it on march out lmao

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Thinking 'bout Price and Nik getting their first married quarters after tying the knot. On march in, Nik brings a bottle of champagne and Price is worried he'll be sorely disappointed by what he finds. He isn't. In fact, Nik says it's the best place he's ever lived, 'cause it's got a John Price in it. They could have given them a six by six room with a toilet in the corner and he would've still been the happiest man on the planet.

[37sommz]

❁ : reality check . . .

✼. masterlist — taglist — request. ✼. genre: angst angst angst. ✼. wc: 6k.

any signs of an improved positioning at mclaren are dashed to the wind during the second race of the season. the bright jeddah lights only further expose the cracks in the mclaren livery.

✼. warnings: language, mclaren team orders.

✼. notes: the start of a painful arc for michaela lmao, just know it gets significantly worse for her at mclaren <3

000.⠀⠀MARCH 25, 2022    ›    Jeddah, Saudi Arabia

Michaela tightened her grip on the steering wheel as she approached the final corner of the third practice session at the 2022 Saudi Arabian Grand Prix. The sun was a fiery ball in the cloudless sky, beating down on the asphalt and making the track sizzle. Sweat beaded on her forehead, but she remained focused, her eyes darting between the tachometer and the road ahead. The roar of the engine filled her ears, a familiar sound she had grown to crave.

As the session ended, she pulled into the pit lane, the tires screeching against the concrete. Her chief engineer, Rob, greeted her with a nod as she climbed out of the cockpit. His expression was a mix of satisfaction and concern. "Good job, Mick," he said, handing her a towel. "You're looking strong out there, but we need to find some more pace. The Bulls are looking really sharp today."

Michaela took the towel and wiped her face, her heart still racing from the adrenaline. "I know," she replied. "I'll push harder in qualifying."

000.⠀⠀MARCH 26, 2022    ›    Jeddah, Saudi Arabia

Qualifying the next day was a nail-biter. The track cooled down as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the circuit. The final moments approached, and she found herself in a fierce battle lodged in the timings between Ferrari and Alpine. As the checkered flag loomed closer, she pulled out an amazing lap, one that surprised even herself. Her McLaren shot up to second on the grid, just behind Sergio Perez's Red Bull. The team erupted in cheers as she pumped her fist in the air.

At the press conference, the atmosphere was charged. Journalists threw questions at the top three qualifiers: Sergio, Michaela, and Charles. Her heart raced as she fielded questions about tire strategy and her thoughts on the upcoming race. Then, the moment came. A journalist she didn't recognize leaned into the microphone and asked, "Michaela, can you tell us about your sister Courtney's relationship with Daniel Ricciardo? How does that affect your dynamic in the paddock?"

Courtney had accompanied Daniel to Jeddah for the first time since they began their relationship last year. Her presence alone had not been enough to catch the attention of the media and their drama-seeking journalists. Instead, it was the blue Alpine cap that rested upon her head that drew their attention. The blue was unmistakably different from Michaela's orange McLaren hats.

Michaela felt the temperature in the room shift as the journalist's question hung in the air. She took a deep breath, her eyes narrowing slightly. "I'd prefer to keep my focus on the race and my own performance," she said firmly. "Courtney's personal life is exactly that—personal. It doesn't affect my driving, and it shouldn't be a topic here." The journalist looked taken aback, but she held her ground, refusing to indulge in the gossip. "Let's focus on the race, shall we?" 

The room went quiet, and she felt the tension thicken. The journalist struggled to find his words as Michaela continued to stare him down from her place on the media couch.

After the press conference, her phone buzzed with messages from Daniel and Courtney. "Thanks for that," Daniel's text read. "Could've gone sideways real quick." Courtney's message was similar, expressing her gratitude for the protection. Despite the annoyance, a small smile played on her lips. It was moments like these that reminded her of the highlights of her career.

That night, as she lay in her hotel room, she heard a soft knock on the door. To her surprise, it was Jenson, his grin as wide as when he won his first championship. They had agreed to keep their relationship under wraps to avoid unnecessary distractions, but seeing him here made her heart skip a beat. "Couldn't stay away, huh, JB?" she teased, letting him in.

"I had to wish you luck in person," he said, his eyes twinkling. He leaned in for a kiss, and she melted into his embrace, feeling his warmth and the comfort of his presence. The weight of the race weekend lifted off her shoulders for a brief moment in his arms. "I'm feeling another win in the air," he murmured conspiratorially. Michaela, ever superstitious, could only scoff shyly at his words, choosing instead to draw his lips back to hers.

"I won't be able to stay for long," Jenson hummed into her hair. "Don't want to distract you from tomorrow."

Michaela pulled away with a nod, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "As if you could," she teased, taking in his disheveled, jetlagged appearance. Despite their efforts to keep their relationship a secret, they couldn't resist the occasional stolen moment together. "But, I guess you're right. I'm going to be fighting for my life between Checo and Charles."

Jenson's eyes searched hers, a hint of worry flickering. "You've got this," he said with a firm nod. "Just remember, it's not just you out there. You've got a whole team backing you, and they want to see you on that top step more than anyone else."

"More than you?" She snicked as her fingers danced over the five-o-clock shadow dusting his jaw and spilling over onto his cheeks.

"Well, almost." His laugh was soft, a gentle rumble in his chest. "But I'll be watching from the Sky Box, cheering louder than anyone."

Michaela's eyes searched his, and she knew he meant it. His support had been unwavering, even if the world wasn't ready for their relationship to be in the spotlight. "Thank you, babe."

000.⠀⠀MARCH 27, 2022    ›    Jeddah, Saudi Arabia

The morning of the race dawned hot and dry, the air thick with anticipation. As she suited up in the garage, the smell of the city's surroundings filled her nostrils, a scent that she had come to associate with victory. The engineers made their final checks, and she took her place in the cockpit, feeling the car come alive around her.

The start of the race was clean, and she slotted into second place behind Sergio with ease. For the first stint, she held her position, her tires gripping the track like a vice. Her heart raced as the laps ticked by, the sound of the cars a harmony in her ears. But as the race progressed, the heat began to take its toll. The tire degradation was higher than expected, and she felt the car slipping away from her, especially under braking.

When Nicolas Latifi crashed and the safety car was deployed, her engineers told her to stay out on track. The pit wall was insistent, saying they were playing the long game. Her heart sank as she watched her rivals peel into the pit lane.

With a frustrated hiss, she questioned the decision of her team's strategy, "My tires are shot, and I'm losing time!"

Rob, her engineer, remained calm over the radio, "Mick, hold your position. We need to maximize your stint and we’ll pit you at the exact right time." When he was met with silence from the Australian, he added additional context. "If we play this right, you can win this race."

But as the safety car pulled away and the green lights signaled the restart, the truth of her situation hit her like a sledgehammer. The Mercedes of George Russell in front of her streaked away, the gap between them widening like a chasm with every passing corner. Her tires screamed in protest, the grip she once had now a distant memory. Each time she tried to push, the car would wobble, threatening to take her out of the race entirely.

Her engineer's voice grew more urgent in her ear. "Michaela, keep pushing! You're outside the pit window. Just a few more laps."

Michaela gritted her teeth, the car's handling deteriorating with every passing second. "I can't keep up like this," she replied through gritted teeth. "If we don't pit, I'll crash."

Her voice grew more desperate as she felt her grip on the race slipping away. "Tires are gone, Rob! I need to pit now."

The team's response was a tense silence, then, "Pit now, Mick. In and out. We're going for a fresh set of hards." Michaela nearly rolled her eyes at the defeat in Rob's voice, the weight of her pleas settling in as she rounded the last few corners before the pit entry.

In a flash of orange, she peeled into the pit lane, the crew springing into action around her. The tires were slapped onto her car with practiced accuracy, the milliseconds ticking by like hours. Her heart sank further as she saw her position drop down the order. When she re-joined the race, she had fallen to eighth. Only six laps remained, and she was nowhere near the podium she had been fighting for.

Her engineer's voice crackled over the radio. "Mick, we're issuing team orders. You're to overtake Esteban but keep behind Lando. You're the better defender. We need to protect our position."

Michaela's jaw clenched around the mouthpiece. "But I can pass Lando and chase Russell for 4th!"

"Negative," Rob responded firmly. "Prioritize passing Esteban and hold your position behind Lando."

Michaela's knuckles tightened further around the steering wheel. The injustice of the situation burned in her chest, but she knew arguing with the team was futile. With a deep breath, she begrudgingly accepted the order and focused back on the track. Esteban was in her sights, and she had to make a move. She waited for the right moment, then pounced, her car screaming as it flew past the Alpine.

Her eyes flicked to her mirrors, expecting to see Ocon falling behind. But instead, she saw his navy blue car approaching with alarming speed.

"What the hell?" she muttered under her breath. She knew the Alpines were fast in Jeddah, but she didn't anticipate Esteban to be so aggressive. "Keep it clean, Ocon," she warned, her voice tight as she muttered the words under her breath. Her warning went unheard. Esteban's car was all over hers, pushing her to the edge of the track. Her tires screeched as she fought to keep control, the heat from the asphalt rising like waves around her.

The team's voice crackled in her ear, "Michaela, hold your position." The warning came as if Rob had read her mind. If Esteban were to come even a hair closer to her under the breaking, the nose of his French car would be right under the tail of her McLaren.

Michaela's eyes flicked to her dashboard, the gap between her and Lando steadily closing. Her teeth ground together in frustration. The Englishman was making no effort to increase his pace, even if just to help her out.

"Why am I being held up?" she demanded.

"Michaela," Rob's voice came through, potentially as frustrated as she was. "We need you to hold onto your position," Rob replied, his tone straightforward but strained. "Concentrate on Esteban please."

Michaela bit back an objection, knowing the situation was already tense enough. Instead, she focused on the task at hand. Esteban was relentless, his car a constant presence in her mirrors. The tension grew palpable until she could almost feel the heat of his exhaust.

With four laps to go, she had had enough. "If Esteban lunges at me again, I'm going for it," she announced over the radio, her voice tight with determination. "Lando needs to get out of the way or we're both out of this race."

"Negative, Michaela," Rob's voice was stern. "Stay put."

Michaela's eyes flicked to the dashboard. The gap to Lando was practically nonexistent. Esteban's relentless pressure was getting to her. The Frenchman's impatience grew more apparent with each corner, his car nibbling at hers every chance he got. The tension mounted until it was almost unbearable, almost choking her with impatience.

As they approached the final corner of the 46th lap, Esteban made his move, darting to the inside. But he'd made a mistake. He'd overcooked it, and now he was too close for comfort. In a split second, her instincts took over. She jerked the wheel to the right, cutting him off, and took the corner with the precision of a fighter pilot. The crowd held their breaths as the two cars danced a dangerous dance, their paint almost touching.

"Michaela, what are you doing?" Rob's voice was sharp in her ear.

Her heart racing, she shot back, "Making sure I don't get taken out of this fucking race!" She glanced in her mirrors, expecting to see Esteban's car in a cloud of dust and gravel, but somehow he managed to stay on track. The move had been risky, but it was the only option she had.

The team was furious. "Michaela, that was unprofessional," Rob barked over the radio. "We need you to calm down and bring it home." 

At first, she could not comprehend why Rob was so angry with her. The move, though sudden, had kept her out of the barriers of the Jeddah Corniche Circuit. But as she glanced in her left mirror she realized the source of the engineer's anger. Lando's helmet stared back at her as his head whipped back and forth between the back of her car and the front of Esteban's. The three of them were now nose to tail with Michaela out in front, the podium a distant memory.

Her eyes narrowed as she focused on the straight ahead. "Tell Lando I apologize," she murmured into the microphone. But she didn't truly mean it. The fire in her belly had been lit and she wasn't about to let it die out now. "But if he can't keep up, I'm not waiting around."

Her radio crackled with Zak Brown's voice, the McLaren team principal's tone a mix of annoyance and disappointment. "Michaela, please give the position back to Lando."

Michaela clenched her jaw, the taste of a podium now replaced with the bitter taste of defeat. With gritted teeth, she responded, "But I've been faster this entire race."

"It's not about speed right now," Zak said, his voice firm. "It's about the team. We need those points. Do it, Mick." 

She gritted her teeth, trying to push aside the anger bubbling inside. The podium was lost, and now she was fighting for scraps. She carried on her race without responding to the team's CEO. She knew there would be hell to pay for her attitude during the race but as the laps remaining counted down, she couldn't help but heed the devil on her shoulder telling her to push it further.

She could hear the frustration in Rob's voice as he relayed her new position to her. "You're in sixth now, Mick. Just keep it clean please." The words stung like a slap.

The remaining laps were a blur of orange and blue. She pushed the McLaren to its limits, feeling the g-forces pressing her into the seat. The tires screeched in protest, but she was relentless. Esteban was now the one under pressure, his car visibly struggling with the wear from their intense battle. With each corner, she felt the gap between herself and Lando growing, but she knew it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough for her ego.

As they approached the straight for the final two laps, she could picture the checkered flag in the distance, taunting her. The crowd's roar grew louder, a song of engines and cheers that seemed to fuel her determination. The gap between her and Lando was now stable, but she couldn't help the burning in her chest, the desire to push ahead.

Her thoughts raced as the laps ticked down.

Michaela felt the pressure building in her chest, the taste of failure bitter on her tongue. But she couldn't let it get to her. Not now. She had to push through, had to keep her head in the game. Her eyes flicked to the pit board, the words blurring together as she took in the information. "Fuel level okay, tire degradation stable, no issues." The calmness of the team's voice was in stark contrast to the chaos in her mind.

"Michaela, we will have a conversation after the race," Andreas Seidl's voice was clear, completely devoid of the emotion held in Zak and Rob's voices. Again, she left the message hanging in the air, giving no indication she heard the promise.

Michaela could feel the tension in the air as she took the final corner and crossed the finish line in sixth place. The cheers from the crowd were muffled in her ears as she pulled into the pit lane, her thoughts racing as she killed the engine. She knew she had let her emotions get the better of her, but she couldn't help the feeling of injustice that weighed on her.

As she climbed out of the car, the heat of the day enveloped her in a sticky embrace. The cameras flashed, and the journalists clamored for her attention. She offered them a forced smile, her heart still racing from the adrenaline of the race.

Her team's debrief was short and tense. The engineers avoided eye contact, and she could feel the disapproval radiating from them. "We'll discuss this in Surrey," was all that was said before she was ushered into a quiet corner of the garage.

Zak Brown, her team principal, approached her with a look that could make a seasoned racer quake in their boots. Michaela stood tall against the American, the top of her head a handful of centimeters above his own even without the added height of her loose curls.

"Michaela, in my office, now," he said curtly, his voice cutting through the din of the garage like a knife.

Her heart sank as she followed him, the weight of her McLaren cap feeling heavier than usual. She knew she had crossed a line, but the anger still burned in her chest. They entered the small, air-conditioned space, and the door slammed shut behind them. The coolness of the room was a stark contrast to the heated tension that had built up between her and the team.

"Michaela," Zak began, his voice tight with repressed emotion. "What was that out there?"

Michaela's jaw set as she stared him down. "I was racing. What did you expect?"

Zak's eyes flashed with anger, but he took a deep breath before responding. "I expect a team player, Michaela. Someone who follows orders, not a loose cannon endangering our strategy and our drivers' positions."

Michaela's eyes narrowed. "My tires were gone. The strategy was already ruined when you kept me out under the safety car. I was fighting for what I had left."

"And in doing so, you compromised Lando's race," he fired back. "We had a plan, and you threw it out the window."

Michaela's hands flailed at her sides. "A plan that was flawed from the start!" she retorted. "My tires were shot. You knew that. And yet, you made me stay out, and for what? Sixth place?" She huffed as her arms crossed over her chest. "I was in a podium position before you threw it all away!"

Zak leaned forward, his palms flat on the desk. "You know the politics of this sport, Mick. Sometimes, you have to make sacrifices for the greater good. For the team."

Michaela felt the anger bubbling up again, refusing to understand his point. "I'm aware," she said through gritted teeth. "But you don't sacrifice your faster driver to play tag with the others."

Zak's eyes searched hers, trying to read the emotions behind her brown eyes. "You need to learn to trust us, Mick. We're all in this together."

Michaela took a deep breath, the adrenaline of the race still coursing through her veins. "I do trust you," she said, her voice strained. "But I'm not going to be the sacrificial lamb every time the strategy doesn't play out perfectly. You know what I’m capable of doing completely on my own in the car. You keep sacrificing my race knowing that I’ll pull points out of my arse every time."

"This isn't about strategy," Zak's voice was firm. "It's about following orders. You had a direct order to hold position, and you disobeyed."

Michaela felt the heat rising to her cheeks. "I was fighting for a podium," she said, her voice low. "You took that away from me and parked me behind Lando. Meanwhile, Ocon's up my arse for 10 laps." She paused, her eyes boring into Zak's. "What would you have done?"

Zak leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. "What I expect from you is to be a professional, to respect the team's decisions, and to bring home the points we need." He paused, his gaze never wavering. "If you can't do that, then maybe McLaren isn't the right place for you."

The words hung in the air, a silent bomb that exploded in her chest. The room felt smaller, the air thicker with each beat of her racing heart. "Is that a threat?" she asked, her voice steady despite the turmoil within.

Zak's gaze was unwavering. "It's a reality check," he said firmly. "We need drivers who are willing to work as part of the team. If you can't do that, then we'll have to consider other options for next season."

Michaela's eyes narrowed, her mind racing. She knew her value in the sport. Her talent had taken her to the pinnacle of motorsport, and she wasn't about to let a bad strategy call and a poorly-handled team order ruin her career. "Other options?" she repeated, her voice like a coiled spring ready to snap. "Like who? Latifi?" She scoffed with a roll of her eyes.

Zak's expression remained stoic. "Don't push me, Michaela," he warned. "You're not the only one with offers on the table."

Michaela's eyes flashed with a mix of anger and defiance. "Is that right?" she retorted. "Well, maybe it's time we had a real conversation about my ‘offers’."

The room grew tense as the unspoken words hung in the air. She knew her worth and wasn't about to let them push her around. McLaren was not Ferrari and she was two years removed from the conversation that haunted her every moment of every day. The stakes were high, but so was her pride.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket, and she glanced down to see a call from Jenson. She quickly silenced it, knowing she couldn't deal with him right now. The urge to throw something across the room was strong, but she had to keep her cool. Instead, she turned her focus back to the stern face of Zak Brown.

"Look, I know I screwed up," she admitted, her voice tight with tension. "But I had to do something. If you can't see that, then I'm not sure why you keep me here."

Zak's expression didn't soften. "You're here because you're fast, Mick. But speed alone doesn't win championships. You need to learn to work with the team. We're not at the top yet, and to get there you and Lando will need each other."

Michaela took a moment to digest his words. The truth stung, but she knew he wasn't wrong. "Fine," she said, her voice tight. "But you can't expect me to just accept being held back like that. It's not right for either of us."

"We're a team, Mick," Zak's tone had softened slightly. "We win together, we lose together. Sometimes that means making tough calls. But you have to trust that we're making them for the greater good."

Michaela took a deep breath, the fight draining from her. "I get it," she said, though her voice was filled with the weight of her disappointment. "But you have to understand how it feels when you're out there, fighting for something that you know you could have easily had."

Zak's eyes searched hers, and for a moment, she thought she saw a glimmer of understanding. "We all want the same thing," he said, his voice softer now. "We want to win. But we can't do it alone."

Michaela nodded, the anger subsiding into a dull ache. "I know," she said, her voice a whisper. "But sometimes it feels like I'm fighting Lando's battles and not my own."

Zak leaned back in his chair, his face etched with concern. "You're both important to this team, Mick. We need both of you firing on all cylinders. But you're right, we can't keep playing this game of musical chairs with you two. We'll sit down after the season, review what happened today, and make sure it doesn't happen again."

"After the season?" She whispered, eyes shining in disbelief. With a steadying breath, she chose her next words carefully. "My contract expires in Abu Dhabi. If you can't make up your mind, like I said, I have options."

Zak's gaze sharpened. "Your contract is our top concern. Focus on the races ahead, and we'll talk about priorities before the season’s over." His tone was final, but the flicker of doubt in his eyes was not lost on her.

Michaela nodded, swiping a stray curl from her forehead. "Fine," she said, her voice tight. "But if I'm going to be fighting for the team, I need the team to fight for me."

Zak nodded, his gaze still doubtful. "I understand," he said. "Now go cool off, and we'll talk more after the race weekend."

Michaela turned and left the office, her heart racing as she walked through the garage. The sounds of the team working on the cars echoed around her, but she was in her own world, lost in thought. Her relationship with McLaren had always been complicated, but she had never felt so at odds with them before. She knew her disobedience was a risk, but she couldn't just sit back and watch her chances slip away without a fight.

The paddock was a blur of sponsor banners and team personnel as she made her way back to her motorhome. She needed to be alone, to think. The door clicked shut behind her, and she leaned against it, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She felt the weight of the team's disappointment and the fear of what her future might hold.

Her phone buzzed again, this time with a message from Lando.

What the fuck was that???

His anger was palpable through the screen. She rolled her eyes, typing a quick response.

Piss off.

But she didn't hit send. Instead, she tossed the phone on the couch and stalked to the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water. The cool liquid did little to ease the heat of anger and frustration burning within her. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying to center herself. When she opened them again, she saw her reflection in the chrome of the fridge door, the fluorescent lights casting harsh shadows across her face.

Her thoughts were a tumultuous storm, swirling with the memories of the race, the team's betrayal, and the looming conversation with Jenson she hadn't had the guts to take. She knew he would understand her anger, her need to push back. But she also knew he'd be worried about her, about her being distracted.

Michaela took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. Her heart was racing, adrenaline still coursing through her veins. She had to call him back, had to explain. She couldn't ignore his messages forever. She picked up the phone and dialed his number, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly as the promise of his warm British accent eased her racing mind.

"Hey," she began, her voice softer than she had intended.

"Hey," Jenson's voice was filled with concern. "What happened out there? I watched the whole thing. That podium was right there."

Michaela sighed, leaning against the cool metal of the fridge. "You know how it goes," she said, trying to keep the anger from her voice. "Team orders. Fucked strategy."

"They're not always right, love," Jenson said gently. "But you've got to play the game."

Michaela scoffed. "I know," she said, the frustration clear in her voice. "But when you're out there, and you know you can win, it's hard to hold back."

"I get it," Jenson said, his voice soothing. "But you're smarter than that. You know you can't win them all."

Michaela took a sip of water, the cold liquid barely quenching the venom in her voice. "This one was so close," she said, the anger still raw. "Until they decided to throw it away so I could help Lando out."

"You know it's not personal, Mick," Jenson said, his voice a gentle reminder of the harsh reality of the sport. "It's just business."

Michaela nodded, though he couldn't see her. "Yeah, I know," she replied, her voice tight. "But it feels personal when I'm the one left holding all the blame."

"They're just trying to manage the situation, love," Jenson's voice was calm and rational, a learned approach to the storm of emotions swirling within her. "You know how it is. Sometimes you have to make the tough calls."

Michaela's grip on the water bottle tightened. "But why me?" she demanded, the frustration bubbling over. "Why am I always the one who has to make the sacrifice?"

"Because you're the strongest, Michaela," Jenson's voice was firm. "You can handle it. You're the one who can bring home the points they need."

Michaela let out a frustrated sigh, her grip on the water bottle loosening slightly. "It just doesn't feel fair," she murmured.

"I know," Jenson said sympathetically. "But you're in a tough position. You're fighting for yourself and for the team. Sometimes those goals don't align."

Michaela nodded, her reflection in the fridge door looking tired and defeated. "I just don't know if I can keep doing this," she whispered. "The season's barely started and I'm already fighting the team just to do the things I know I can."

Jenson's voice grew more serious. "You're not alone in this, Mick. You've got me, you've got Guido, and you've got options. Don't let them push you around."

Michaela felt a glimmer of hope in the pit of her stomach. Options. She had options. And she wasn't going to let McLaren bully her into second place behind Lando. She took a deep breath, feeling the coolness of the motorhome's air-conditioning on her flushed cheeks. "I know," she said, her voice stronger. "I'll talk to Guido, and see what he thinks."

Guido was her loyal manager, a shrewd Italian with a keen sense of Formula 1 politics. He'd been her rock since the early days, navigating her through the treacherous waters of contract negotiations and political games. If anyone could help her figure this out, it was him.

Michaela took a moment to compose herself before calling him. "Guido," she began, her voice a mix of frustration and determination. "We need to talk."

Guido's response was measured. "Hello to you too, Michaela."

"You watched the race," she stated, not bothering with pleasantries. "Where do I go from here?"

Guido's sigh was audible over the line. "You've got two choices, cara. You either suck it up and deal with it, or you start looking elsewhere."

Michaela's eyes narrowed as she paced the small space of the motorhome. "Looking elsewhere isn't exactly ideal, is it?" she asked, her voice laced with sarcasm.

"Ideal is relative in this business," Guido said, his tone unwavering. "But if you're not happy, you can't perform. And if you're not performing, the team won't be happy either. It's a delicate balance."

Michaela stopped pacing, her eyes focused on a point in the middle of the floor. "I know," she said, her voice tight. "But what do I do now?"

Guido was silent for a moment, the crackle of the line the only sound between them. "You've got a good relationship with the team," he said finally. "But you can't let them push you around like this. You need to sit down with Zak, with the team, and lay out your expectations. Make it clear that you're here to win, not just to make up the numbers."

Michaela nodded, her mind racing. "And if they don't listen?" She asked, the fire of defiance burning in her eyes.

Guido's response was swift and firm. "Then we explore those other options," he said. "But for now, focus on the next race. Show them that you're not just defiant to be defiant. Prove your worth, and the power will shift back in your favor."

Michaela nodded, the gravity of the situation settling in her bones. "Alright," she said, her voice a mix of frustration and resolve. "I'll talk to them, lay it out. But if it doesn't change, then we're looking elsewhere."

Guido's response was swift and firm. "Good," he said. "I'm tired of the dreadful UK weather, to be honest, this might be a good change for us." He chuckled with an air of mischief to his words.

Michaela managed a small smile. "Don't get ahead of yourself," she cautioned, though the thought of a change was tempting. "First, I need to have that talk with Zak. And then we'll see where it goes from there."

Guido's chuckle turned serious. "Just remember, you're the asset here, not them. Don't let them forget it."

Michaela took another deep breath, feeling a surge of determination. "I won't," she promised, ending the call. She took a moment to collect herself before walking out of the motorhome, ready to face the media and the team with a newfound sense of resolve.

The press pen was a minefield of questions about her decision to ignore team orders and the state of her relationship with Lando. She navigated them with a calmness she didn't feel, keeping her answers short and focused on the race ahead. When asked about her future with McLaren, she replied with a polished smile, "I'm committed to giving my all to the team this season. After that, we'll see what the future holds."

Once the press conference concluded, she sought refuge in the team's garage, surrounded by the familiar hum of her car being dissected by engineers. Rob, her trusted engineer, met her with a furrowed brow. "What's the damage?" she asked, referring not just to her car, but to her standing within the team.

"It's... a bit tense," Rob said, his voice tight. "But let's focus on the positives. Your driving was phenomenal, especially that move on Esteban. You really showed your grit."

Michaela nodded, acknowledging the compliment, but the conversation with Guido played in her mind like a broken record. Her future in McLaren was no longer a given. "I know," she said, her voice steady. "But I need to speak with Zak and Andreas again. I can't keep doing this."

"You're not wrong," Rob admitted, his eyes on the data screens. "But timing is everything. Give it a day or two, let the dust settle."

Michaela nodded, though she wasn't convinced. The sting of today's race was still fresh, and the thought of waiting only added to the frustration boiling in her veins. "I'm sorry for putting you in that position," she said, her voice genuine. "I got caught up in my frustration and took out on you. I'm sorry."

Rob gave her a small smile. "Don't worry about it, Mick," he said, his eyes lifting from their focus on the screens. "And just between the two of us, I would've done the same thing." The show of support was accented with a cheeky wink, a silent laugh escaping through their noses in amusement.

Michaela couldn't help but feel a little relieved by his understanding, but the weight of the day's events didn't entirely lift. She nodded, taking another deep breath. "Thanks, Rob," she said, her voice sincere. "I just need to figure out what's next."

"You've got this," Rob said, patting her on the shoulder before returning to the car. She watched him for a moment, his movements efficient and focused. Then, with a sigh, she turned and made her way out of the garage, back into the glaring lights of the paddock.

[1moreoffkeyanthem]

Calling all enjoyers of the OrangeJuiceVerse and teenage shenanigans!

That’s right, it’s time for another episode of Bedtime Stories With PCE, and this one is SO self indulgent like I know that’s the purpose of this series, just self indulgent orange flavored bonus content, but this one, mannnnn.

Essentially (PCE stfu about OJV Kyle’s bad knee), I was thinking about how i really didn’t let my annoying ass get into the gang as 15 year olds very much post A Fall In The Springtime. So I wanted to explore that dynamic a little more, featuring stupid fights, getting scolded by your parents, Kyle being an angry little fucker, and the way one person in a friend group getting sick means everyone’s getting the plague lmao. Set a couple days after AFITS, here’s

•Fuck It, We Ball•

Stan sighed as he approached the bus stop, Cartman and Kyle already engrossed in whatever they were arguing about now. And so it begins.

He planted himself at Kenny’s side, kicking at the slush that had refrozen with the temperature dropping again over the last few days. Damn March and its unpredictability. “Dude, how do they have the energy for this at seven in the morning?”

“Oh, you know how these two get when they’re bored,” Kenny said nonchalantly. “Probably why Ky suggested takin’ the bus today.”

That made sense. While Stan and the others had taken to making their own ways to school being sophomores, carpooling and the like for the most part, occasionally they’d all load up on the bus for nostalgia’s sake on days nobody had to stay late for extracurriculars. Kyle had been leading the charge in that the past couple weeks, bored being out of basketball and irritable while his knee healed. It honestly wasn’t surprising that he’d find excitement in the childhood routine of debating Cartman, and Cartman just liked to rile Kyle up in general, not that it was hard these days. Stan had laughed his ass off just the other day at his boyfriend’s claim that he was “drowning in ennui”. Dramatic, but warranted.

“IT WAS STUPID WHEN WE WERE NINE, AND IT’S MORE RIDICULOUS NOW!” Stan’s attention was drawn to his boyfriend’s shrill screeching. “BEING GINGER IS NOT LIKE BEING A VAMPIRE!”

Cartman was grinning in a very self satisfied way. “You burn in the sun, you’re creepy, you suck souls…”

“YOU’RE SO GODDAMN STUPID!!!”

Kyle, directly ensnared in their friend’s trap, moved to swing at him with a crutch, but overshot and was slipping forward, slamming into the ground with a loud “FUCK!”

Stan, Kenny, and even Cartman froze, eyes wide and speechless because Kyle was already hurt; slipping on the ice like that had no doubt made it worse. Kyle curled into the fetal position, clutching his bad knee and cursing up a storm. Stan ran to him in an instant.

“Dude, shit, okay, okay. Fuck, did you hit it?”

“What the HELL do you think,” Kyle hissed, writhing a little in the snow. He’d only recently been able to bend his knee semi-normally again, only with support, and here he was holding it to his chest in a way that definitely couldn’t be comfortable.

“S-Stan, I… GOD, FUCK YOU CARTMAN!!!”

That back and forth was always a good indicator of Kyle’s level of aggravation. He was extremely quick when he was upset enough. Less aggressive on his own, Stan jumped to his partner’s defense without hesitation.

“Why the shit would you work him up like that, huh?!?” Stan demanded, taking their obnoxious friend by the collar of his coat. He gave him a shake, not enough to actually hurt, but Cartman still whined like a pitiful little creature. “He can’t fight anyone yet! He can’t even stand!”

Kyle dragged himself a little down the ice. “I can buttfucking stand! Dramaticfuckass-“

He crumpled under the weight of his own body. Stan caught his neck before his head could whack the ice. “Dude!”

“I’m going to obliterate you,” Kyle warned.

Stan wanted to roll his eyes, but didn’t dare. Instead, he gently scooped Kyle into his arms, relieved when he felt wiry arms latch instinctually around his neck. He turned to the other two as he rose. “Grab his shit.”

Thankfully, Kyle’s house was the closest to the bus stop, and under the rapid pounding of his own heart, Stan could hear Kyle’s pissed off mumbling and sporadic whimpers of pain.

“I’m trying to be careful, dude,” he promised. “I know it’s still hurting.”

“Yeah, because some FAT ASSHOLE made me FALL!” Kyle seethed in Cartman’s direction.

“Ay! You’re the one who was trying to hit me, JewBot!”

Stan spun around to shoot Cartman a glare. “You started it and you know it, fuckknob. Give the backpack to Kenny and fuck off to school if you’re gonna keep causing problems.”

Cartman snorted. “I would, but Kahl’s bitch mom is going to pitch a fit and I happen to find that shit funny, obviously.”

“DON’T CALL MY MOM A BITCH!”

Ohhhh boy. It was definitely too early for all this. Kenny bounded up to the porch, using Kyle’s crutches to knock on the front door. “Guys, tone it down,” he advised before turning the knob. Nobody really locked their doors around here, and they all knew it.

“Yo, Mrs B!” Kenny announced their presence as the boys filed into the foyer.

Only Kyle’s mom would be home around this time, Stan knew. Ike usually rode to his early college high school program with their dad, since it was closer to Gerald’s firm. Sheila tended to fill her days with community meetings and clubs and volunteer work, but she usually stuck around the house until the rest of the family was safely at school and work, ruling the group chat with an iron fist. A veritable lioness when it came to her boys, that one.

Which was why her alarmed gasp upon seeing her eldest son glowering in Stan’s arms wasn’t surprising in the slightest.

“Kyle! Boys! What on earth happened?!”

“He slipped on the ice,” Stan explained, gingerly easing him down onto the couch. “Bashed his knee pretty good.”

Sheila let out a “WHAT?!?”, and Kyle groaned, clearly already done with his mother. “Ma, please don’t freak out. I just need to put it up a few hours or whatever, it’s fine.”

She planted her hands on her hips and stared each of the boys down like only a mother could. Cartman actually cowered a little, avoiding eye contact.

“And just how did you fall, huh, bubbeh?” She demanded of her son. “I thought I told you to be careful.”

Stan hated having to do damage control, but Sheila trusted him, so he was probably the best bet at the guys avoiding too much trouble. “He and Cartman were just arguing. You know how carried away they can get.”

“Don’t look at me, Mrs Broflovski,” Cartman said, putting his hands up in surrender. “Kahl tried to whack me! It’s not my fault his little bird bones gave out.”

“SHUT UP CARTMAN!”

“Kyle!” Sheila scolded. “Inside voices! And how many times do I have to tell you boys not to roughhouse when it’s slippery outside?”

All four of them mumbled varying apologies, even though he and Kenny hadn’t been involved. Kyle’s mom kept raving.

“And here I was about to head out the door! Oy, I’ll have to tell the book club ladies I won’t make it to brunch, and goodness! The PTA meeting will need to be rescheduled, and I suppose I’ll have to put out a grocery order for delivery and miss the deals I’d get going myself-“

“Ma,” Kyle interrupted, even more overwhelmed than he had been. “You don’t need to change your plans or anything. I know you have a full day.”

“You can’t just stay home alone! What if you’ve hurt your knee worse?!”

Stan could tell his boyfriend wanted to roll his eyes. “It really isn’t a big deal, okay? And I’m not alone. The guys can help me if I need anything.”

Kenny had already taken to removing Kyle’s hat for him and hanging it on the hook by the door. “Yeah, we got ‘im, scout’s honor.”

“The hippie would probably stay anyway,” Cartman pointed out. He had migrated to the kitchen and was rifling through the freezer, hopefully for an ice pack and not to raid the snacks.

Well, as much as Cartman was a dick, he wasn’t wrong. Stan had no intention of leaving Kyle’s side.

Kyle’s mom pursed her lips and checked her watch. Stan could practically see her internal conflict: would she deviate from her carefully curated schedule to stay home and smother her son, or would she let four teenage boys skip school and hang out in her living room? He turned on his best “charming and trustworthy” face; he usually had good luck with adults.

Sheila sighed, and Stan felt disproportionately victorious. The woman was even more expressive than Kyle was. Clearly, the gang was about to get a day off class with no grown up supervision. Yes!

“Fine,” she relented. “But only because I’m already running late. I’ll see if I can get all four of you an excused absence.”

That definitely wasn’t going to be an issue. Principal Charles would just love the idea of them practicing “wholesome male friendship and emotional support” and all that. If that wasn’t the conclusion the principal came to on his own, Cartman was a master manipulator and could talk himself, and the rest of them by extension, out of trouble.

Sheila grabbed her purse and bent down to kiss her son’s forehead, leaving a lipstick mark. “You’re a little warm, Kyle, do you feel-“

“Ma, I was wearing a hat,” Kyle groaned. “Please give the worrying a rest.”

“Fine, fine,” she clucked, shaking her head. “You boys just behave, do you hear me? And Stanley, you call me if I need to come home.”

“Yes ma’am.”

When the door shut behind her, Kyle groaned yet again, dramatically throwing his arms over his eyes. “I swear to God, she’s gonna be fussing over me like I’m a kid until the end of time.”

“Totally weak,” Cartman agreed.

“She just gets concerned about you,” Kenny reminded him. “I mean, it’s not like she doesn’t have a reason.”

Stan almost expected Kyle to fly into a rage at that, but he just sighed. “Can’t wait to be done with the goddamn crutches so she can chill the fuck out.”

Yeah, Sheila Broflovski ever chilling the fuck out was probably about as likely as Randy sobering up. Not gonna happen. And Kyle had gotten more than just the hair, nose, and height from his mother; he’d also gotten her temper, so Stan chose to let him believe she’d let up once he could walk.

“Ha! That’ll be the day,” Cartman laughed as he turned away from the freezer, ice pack in one hand and a popsicle in the other.

Stan caught the pack easily when it was tossed his way, ignoring their resident troublemaker in favor of getting his super best boyfriend’s leg elevated better. “This okay, baby?”

“Yeah, it-“ Kyle cut off with a wince. “Doesn’t hurt as bad as it did at first.”

“Still hurts, though?”

“I mean, it never really stopped hurting,” Kyle said with a shrug. “Not all the way.”

Stan had done his research after his partner first messed up his leg. What the basketball coach guessed was a sprain turned out to be a hyperextended knee and partial meniscus tear, straining the outside ligament and everything. Not an injury that required surgery, since Kyle was young and relatively healthy, but he wasn’t supposed to put any weight on it at all for a full month, was supposed to be taking anti inflammatories and painkillers. Kyle tried to downplay it, sick of being out of commission, but Stan maintained that it caused him more trouble than he admitted.

Kenny hopped up from where he’d been perched on the arm of the couch. “Where’s your drugs? I gotcha.”

“I don’t need-“

“Nightstand,” Stan interrupted. Kyle wasn’t about to weasel his way out of medication. Kenny bounded up the stairs as Kyle angrily unzipped his coat and threw it in the general direction of the jacket hooks.

“Dude, I don’t want the fucking painkillers.”

Cartman snorted from his position on the floor, where he’d claimed control of the remote and was looking for trashy reality tv. “You’ve been on crutches for weeks and you still can’t walk, you dumb bitch. Take the goddamn pills if you hurt. That’s like, common sense.”

“You wouldn’t know common sense if it bit you in the fat ass.”

As much as Stan hated to agree with Cartman, he did have a point. “Kyle, please don’t be difficult about this. We’re just trying to help.”

Kyle scowled and crossed his arms. “You can help by getting off my case. I swear, you guys are as bad as my mother.”

“No can do, firefox,” Kenny re entered the living room, holding the orange vial of painkillers aloft. “Consider us on your case like white on rice. This bottle should not still be this full.”

“Let me see that.” Stan confirmed that it was pretty obvious that Kyle had been slacking on the meds. “Dude, c’mon. Have you not been taking these?”

“I took them “as directed” or whatever the first week,” Kyle protested. “I don’t like how they make me all foggy and tired!”

Stan fought the urge to groan. “Baby, you’re literally in pain. Your leg’s gonna hurt if you don’t treat the symptoms.” He didn’t add that the fact that Kyle had been hurting and doing nothing about it had definitely played in to his irritability. He knelt down and took Kyle’s hand. “Will you just take one? For me? Your pain is my pain.”

Cartman mimed throwing up. “Jesus Christ, you fucking simp! What is this, a shitty fanfiction?!”

“SHUT UP, CARTMAN,” Kyle snapped. Then his eyes met Stan’s, and his anger dissipated some. “Damnit, Staniel. Don’t give me the face! You look like a sad puppy and- ugh, fucking fine, but if anyone draws dicks on my face while I’m taking a damn high ass nap, I’m kicking the ass of everyone in this room.”

A threat not to be taken lightly, even with Kyle’s current physical limitations. Small, injured, about to nod off from the pill he’d swallowed while he was talking, but vicious.

“No dicks, promise,” Kenny said with a hand over his heart.

“Yeah, we all know the only dick you want on your face is Stan’s-“ Cartman was cut off by a throw pillow flung in his direction. “Fine! Geez, I won’t fuck with you.”

“I’ll keep watch,” Stan offered.

Cartman rolled his eyes and went back to flipping through daytime television. “I hate your gay ass, I’m so seriously.”

———

There was only so much Real Housewives the boys could take before it got old. And Stan really didn’t give a shit what the Kardashians were up to. Even Cartman had gotten restless after a few hours, corralling Kenny out the back door to throw chunks of ice against the fence.

Kyle was still sleeping through all of it, though his sleep looked far from peaceful. Kyle didn’t usually sleep well in general, and lying in an uncomfortable position on the couch with his face tight even in sleep, he looked to be struggling. Nightmares, probably, made even weirder than normal by the drugs making him sleep harder than he usually did.

Stan didn’t have the heart to wake him up, instead just in his lookout post on the floor next to the couch. He switched the channel to National Geographic and turned the sound off, letting his head fall back next to his boyfriend’s.

He couldn’t have been asleep long, before being jolted awake by a thump and a muttered “god damnit”.

Adjusting to the dim light of the living room, Stan landed on Kyle, who had apparently walked into the doorframe in his post nap confusion. He was immediately up and darting his way.

“Dude, you’re supposed to be using your crutches! Where’re you going?”

Kyle grumbled and rubbed at his leg. “I’m running the Boston Marathon, what does it look like? I’m on a piss quest, Stanathan.”

Stan swung an arm around him for support, helping him hobble down the hall. “For fucks sake, Ky, you’re gonna hurt yourself walking around like this.”

“Didn’t think about it,” Kyle argued. “I told you the pills make me all groggy.”

They stopped at the bathroom. “Can you make it?”

Kyle hopped through and shut the door. “I’m not helpless.”

Stan leaned against the wall, trying not to laugh at the frustrated look he’d flashed. “You have a good nap, at least?”

“Had a dream I was in a wheat field.”

“A wheat field?”

“Yeah.” He heard the toilet flush and the faucet start up. “We were trying to invade a kingdom of giants with a marching band. And then I was in my car and all the tires exploded. Pedro Pascal was there.”

Steadying his boyfriend on his way back into the hall, Stan chuckled. “The Mandolorian slashed your tires?”

“Apparently.”

Heat was radiating from Kyle like a furnace. Not that he didn’t usually run warm, especially when he slept, but even Sheila had noticed earlier. Stan helped him down onto the couch and rested the back of his hand on Kyle’s face, checking for fever.

“Dude, do you feel okay? You look kinda pale, and you’re hot.”

Kyle rolled his eyes. “Jesus, not you too. I’m fine. I can’t be sick on top of everything else, you just worry too much.”

That wasn’t how it worked, but okay. Kenny and Cartman came barging in the kitchen door, shaking ice from their shoes in a haphazard way that a certain matriarch wouldn’t appreciate.

“I need some fucking hot chocolate!” Cartman declared, Kenny letting out a muffled agreement through his scarf before unwinding it.

“Guys,” Stan started, “have you been sick at all the past week? Like, fever, dizziness, anything?”

Kenny shrugged. “I had the sniffles a couple days ago, that’s it.”

“I don’t get sick,” Cartman insisted. “My immune system is superior. Oh, lame, you guys! Is Kahl infected with some disease now too? I mean, more than just his default.”

Kyle moaned dramatically. “Please cut it out. I’m tired, assholes.”

Stan ignored him, at least until he had a chance to check for certain. “Ken, will you get the thermometer? Under the kitchen sink. I think I might’ve given you guys that cold I had over the weekend.”

“You got over that in like, two days,” Kyle pointed out.

“That was me. This is you. And if you’ll recall, I almost cracked my head open in your bedroom,” Stan reminded him.

“Because you’re a dick who tried to ignore it.”

“And what are you doing right now?”

Kyle opened his mouth to make some remark, and Kenny took the opportunity to shove the thermometer under his tongue. Kyle glared but didn’t yank it out, probably hoping to prove them all wrong.

“Ha!” Cartman was at least a little amused reading the screen. “Of course you’re sick. What, can’t handle a little seasonal bug like the rest of us?”

Moving to lunge off the couch, Kyle swung, not missing this time, but falling to the floor nonetheless. Cartman wailed like he’d just been stabbed.

“Did- did you guys see that?! Kahl totally got me in the eye! Oh, god, I’m blind! I’m suing your crippled ass!”

“Knock it off, Fatboy, you’re fine,” Kenny said tiredly. “Kyley, I think we should get you up to bed and call your mom.”

Stan was inclined to agree, not just because Kyle was definitely running a temperature now, but also because he’d just fallen for the second time in the span of a few hours, and there was no way even Kyle could deny how much that had to hurt. He scooted the coffee table out of the way to help him up.

“Okay, use the good side, I’ve got you.”

Kyle had gotten pretty graceful at using the pistol squat method to get up without putting weight on his bad knee over the past few weeks. He’d always been deceptively strong, even like now when he was sick and drawn, and Stan was just kind of there just in case he faltered.

“Don’t call my mom,” he pleaded. “It’s just a little fever. I can probably sleep it off.”

Well, considering his ridiculous stubbornness, Kyle could probably argue that illness going around right out of his body. “You can try, dude, but Sheila’s gonna be pissed I didn’t tell her.”

“I’ll handle it,” Kyle mumbled, accepting his crutches and letting Kenny and Stan accompany him to the stairs. “Will you guys stay?”

Stan raised an eyebrow. “Even Cartman?”

“Pshh, like I wanna stick around for the jew to get pissed off and try to kill me again.”

The guys knew Cartman well enough to know that was just his way of saying he didn’t want to be the reason Kyle got carried away and hurt himself, but they didn’t point that out.

“Then fuck off, fatass. Go manipulate the FBI or whatever you get up to,” Kyle said with another eyeroll.

Cartman snorted. “Eh, it’s still pretty early. Maybe I’ll start a cult or something.” He grinned mischievously. “See you assholes.”

Kenny flipped on the hall light. “I wonder what it is that he actually does in his spare time.”

“Something stupid or illegal.” Kyle groaned as he was helped into bed. “Or both.”

That sounded about right. Stan settled under the blankets next to him, Kenny having procured the cold meds still in the drawer from Stan having been sick. Stan read the pack carefully before handing Kyle a few capsules. “Here, dude. It’s the daytime shit. No acetaminophen or any of the crap that’ll fuck with your other drugs.”

“Thanks.”

Kyles massive “Ass Pro Shops” tumbler, a Kenny McCormick creation that was forever stationed on Kyle’s nightstand with its blue silicone straw, washed down the medicine before Kyle lied back with a sigh. He was clearly still in pain, and now feverish to top it off. “Have I mentioned yet that I’m really fucking annoyed?”

Kenny snorted, casually shooting the mini basketball into the hoop mounted on the closet door. “Darlin’, you’ve made that pretty clear.”

Stan wrapped him up in his arms, carefully, like his boyfriend might attack like a wounded animal. And here we see an injured fox, in his burrow, directly after fighting off the raccoon. He has allowed the continued company of the bear and the opossum, who continue to aid in his recovery. The rabbit often accompanies this ragtag group, though she would likely be unwilling to leave school, fearing both the agitated fox’s anger and a potential to be grounded.

Laughing at his mental nature documentary comparison was probably not in his best interest, lest Kyle assume he was being made fun of, so Stan just kissed his boyfriend’s flushed cheek. “You gonna be able to fall asleep again?”

Kyle snuggled closer. “Mm, if you keep holding me like this.”

Stan knew both he and Kenny would have to leave his side eventually. Kenny had basketball practice and Stan had off season football conditioning. He could get out of classes today, sure, but coach wasn’t about to ease up on him, not with Stan set to play first string in the fall. If South Park had one thing (other than cattle) to be proud of, it was high school sports.

Still, he’d savor this moment, getting to take care of him with Kenny for backup, and he’d probably cave and stay if Kyle asked.

———

The alarm clock on the nightstand flashed that it was almost three when Sheila poked her head in to whisper (or her version of it, at least), “boys!”

Uncharacteristically, Stan was the first to wake, followed by Kenny, who had curled up at the foot of the bed like a pet, while Kyle only moaned and rolled over.

“Yes ma’am?” Stan mumbled, rubbing his eyes and disoriented from their nap.

The matriarch planted her hands on her hips, one auburn brow arched in concern. “Is everything alright? Eric already left?”

“Mhm. A while ago. He went because he was making Ky mad again and they were trying to fight and we all didn’t want him to hurt himself more. It was Cartman’s decision.” Stan didn’t know why he was defending the dickhole who liked to mess with his favorite person. Maybe because Cartman had recently shown a few redeeming qualities, plus Stan felt bad in general about giving the guys his cold. “Kyle, he didn’t want us to call you, but he’s running a bit of a fever. Or, he was a few hours ago. We got some medicine in him, so hopefully it’s down.”

“WHAT WHAT WHAT?!”

Kyle sat up quickly, squeaking a little in his confusion. “Ma, what’s going on? Why are you freaking out?”

She rushed over, immediately all over her son. “Oh, I knew it! I knew you were warm this morning! Call it a motha’s intuition, but I knew you’d caught what’s going around that school of yours!”

“He’s okay, Mrs. B,” Kenny cut in. “Stanny and I both got over it quick, and Cartman definitely had it but didn’t even complain, and you know how he is.”

Sheila sighed, hands still on the face of an absolutely peeved Kyle. “Oh, I suppose. I just, I worry! About all of you! And my poor baby is already hurt, I can’t imagine how miserable it must be-“

“Ma, please. I’m okay. Just let me go back to sleep.”

Turning to the other two, who had gotten up and were standing attentively like seven year olds in trouble, she offered a motherly smile. “Why don’t the two of you go down and make yourselves a snack?” She suggested. “You have to leave for your sports soon, right? Can’t go on an empty stomach!”

Kenny opened his mouth to protest, but Stan knew how Sheila’s mind operated. She wasn’t going to take no for an answer, especially while she had already blustered into full caretaking mode at the mention of her child under the weather. She’d do that for all five of them, yeah, but as much as Kyle would kick his ass if he said it, Kyle had always been more prone to physical problems than the rest.

“Will do. Ken, sandwiches real quick and we head to the school?”

“Works for me, brother. Thank you, Mrs B.”

Sheila smiled tensely, trying to force feed Kyle the lukewarm water at his bedside. Stan reached around her to squeeze his hand. “Okay, dude?”

“I’m okay. Little plague and a fucked up leg can’t take me out.”

“Kyle, language!”

Stan had to laugh. “We left the thermometer downstairs,” he offered. “If you want to check again. We’ll be outa here in a sec.” He kissed the back of Kyle’s hand, noticing how glassy his eyes were, all the brighter in their fever flush. “Can I come check on you after?” He was asking both Kyle and his mother.

They answered in unison, which made Kenny laugh. “Aight, loverboy, let’s feed us so we don’t die during suicides.”

The irony wasn’t lost on either of them when they made it down the stairs into the kitchen. “Dude, I really hate the idea of leaving him alone.”

Kenny retrieved sandwich supplies eagerly from the fridge and cabinets. They all knew where everything was kept in each other’s houses.

“He’s not alone. Got his mama, and you know she’s leaping at the chance. Where do ya think Ky gets it?”

True. Both Kyle and Sheila shared that overbearing motherly quality. They thrived on caring for people.

Problem was, Kyle was a godawful patient, and Stan liked to coddle him in spite of the protests.

“Make me a pb&j, will you?” He asked Kenny. “I’m gonna heat up some soup for Ky. He hasn’t eaten since breakfast, if he did have that.”

“He’s gonna get annoyed,” Kenny pointed out.

That was true, but still. “Dude, my boyfriend is hurt, sick, stubborn as fuck, and diabetic. I’m not letting his levels get messed up.”

Kenny laughed. “Just marry him already. You’d make a great overprotective husband.”

“Sick, man, we’re kids!”

“That has nothing to do with what I just said. I’m talkin’ future shit.”

Stan dumped a can of chicken noodle into the pot he’s grabbed. “You deadass said “already”. We’re sixteen and fifteen.”

“You’re still gonna be a good husband one day.” Kenny was building sandwiches, didn’t look up. “We call him a mom, but you’re absolutely the type of dad to be waiting on the porch with a shotgun if your daughter brings home a date. Not that your pacifistic ass would use it.”

That was true, guns were not his favorite. “Ken, knock it off.” He checked on the time. “Hey, drink some water. We should head out as soon as we eat.”

Canned soup was easy and quick enough to heat up, and Stan had it poured into a bowl with a few crackers on the side by the time Kenny had gotten sandwiches and drinks set up on the bar. “Gonna take this up to Ky, be right back.”

“Leaning into that knight in shining armor complex pretty hard today, huh?”

Stan flipped him off over his shoulder.

In Kyle’s room, Shiela was humming at a low volume, fussing with the covers and the washcloth she’d laid on his forehead. Kyle saw him first.

“Dudeeee,” he complained. “Tell Ma I’m okay and she doesn’t need to smother me.”

Laughing and setting the soup on the table, Stan leaned over to run his fingers through Kyle’s hair. “Sorry, but I’m on her side, dude.” He gave Sheila a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you, I just, he was already getting pretty good rest and I didn’t want to rile him up-“

“Oh, believe me,” she said pointedly. “I know he’d have only worked himself up.”

“I’m right here!”

“See what I mean?” Sheila put on her all business face. “Bubbeh, Stanley and Kenny have to leave soon for practice.”

Kyle looked positively betrayed. “Dude, you’re actually leaving me?”

“You need more rest, baby. I can maybe come back and visit after conditioning?” Yeah, right. More than likely, his mom would veto any more company until Kyle was over the fever. “You need to eat and keep taking it easy.”

“Yes, sir,” Kyle grumbled sarcastically.

Stan suppressed another laugh and kissed the back of his hand again before turning to Sheila. “We’ll be out the door in a few minutes. I’ll ask before coming after.”

She nodded. “I think that would be best. Thank you for helping out today, Stan.”

“Definitely, dude.” Then he froze. He called his own mother dude, but he had never called Kyle’s mom that. Thankfully, she smiled fondly.

“You boys just put your dishes in the sink when you’re done. Have a good practice.”

Stan grinned and kissed Kyle again before heading back down. Kenny was halfway through his sandwich when he plopped down and snorted.

“Man, I totally just called Ky’s mother “dude”,” he commented.

Kenny giggled. “Only you, brother. Gotta tell ya, I think this basketball team thing? This is probably a one time deal.”

“You’re not planning to play next year?”

“It’s just, well, it was only fun with Kyle, and he’s out for a hot minute. Plus I could be spending my free time workin’. Lot to think about, ya know? And it’s not like you and football. I just wanted to try it out.”

Stan understood. He’d cycled through plenty of hobbies himself. “Why not just go ahead and quit?”

Kenny shook his head. “Season’s almost over, anyway. Gotta finish it out. So, for now…” he saluted with his sandwich. “Fuck it. We ball.”

[cursed-elements-blog]

If you love Chunt so much give us all available chanter facts.

okie dokie!!! if i get any wrong, I'll delete my account (lying). im also not going to just do a full plot recap!! i will have to reference some plot points though so spoilers for Echo VN.

Chunty wunty was born in 1993 between Spring (probably March/April, i don't remember when his spring break was) and November 1st. He is a north american river otter! he was born and raised within Echo.

when he was a child, he was kind of an asshole! using carl's fear of ghosts to get access to carl's game consoles when he wanted to stay the night and frequently telling lies to get what he wants. Chase tells himself via his inner monologue that his dick is huge. on november 1st 2008, chase got caught jacking off to gay porn (fox and horse specifically) by his parents and then spent the rest of the day avoiding them. he got together with leo the day after that. Chase has arachnophobia. chase is bisexual but tells people he's gay cause he says that it is much easier to do that than to explain what bisexual is. at college he had one single edible and had a terrible intense trip lmao man CANNOT handle weed.

Chunt and Jenna thought it would be funny to pull a prank on Leo, this ended up with Chase breaking up with Leo. he suffers from sleep paralysis, hallucinations, and dissociation because sam-entity is possessing him. he has a somewhat artificial interest in journalism and photography and only really chose that field because Jenna suggested it to him when she told him to try to leave Echo. speaking of Jenna, Chaunter drove her out of Echo and to Payton to escape her abusive family.

after chase broke up with Leo and went off to college, he would still send Leo a bunch of sexually charged messages telling him how he missed Leo when drunk. he's such a messy bitch (affectionate). Chase and Carl used to be roommates in college before Carl dropped out. then Chase roomed with a rabbit and then Vincent. he was a very average student. chase used to have an anchor bracelet that he and Leo wore to symbolize their relationship* *yo i fucking cried when writing this sentence. that got me so emotional holy shit.

this is long so here is a break. more under the cut :3

he stopped wearing the bracelet during college. Chase drowned Sydney because he felt as if Sydney would eventually kill TJ. he then subconsciously suppressed this memory. he used to see a psychiatrist and take meds because he saw a body hanging in the woods shortly after Sydney's death.

Chase has a noticeable but not apparent gay accent. like that valley girl twang. stereotypical gay voice. he has said "haaii" he has said "hey, bee-otch" and he has said "hiiiiiiii~". when he and Leo first got together, they ended up sort of neglecting their other friends. Chase only was available to drive Jenna to Payton because he and Leo were fighting and thus not speaking to each other.

once TJ asked Chase how he knew he was into men, and Chase told him to go to a porn website. Chase loves to swim! he also stinks. Chase's musk actually apparently turns people off, especially on dating sites. speaking of, Chase is on Predatr, a dating app (parody of grindr)

Chase's mom calls his arachnophobia "his little spider problem". chase used to think he was strictly gay but realized that wasn't quite right sometime during his late teens/early 20s. CHase doesn't finish his school project in time in a vast majority of the routes. Chase, Jenna, and Leo used to play platformers together before Leo could really understand english, "double jump that sucker" became a in-joke between the three. the two of them helped Leo learn english.

in Flynn's route, Chase has exactly one good and successful publication before his journalism career goes downhill. he is 26 when he meets Devon and Cameron in Echo. in leo's route Chase is 22/23 when he visits with his boyfriend Kudzu. Chase's whereabouts after TJ's route is unknown! terrifying given how that route ended!

Chase has a body count of 2, killing Sydney and Flynn (only in TJ's route). In Carl's route, Chase once again rooms with Carl in college. Chase is a fucking kinkshamer. Chase tends to assume all christians are homophobic and subtly had behaved rudely to TJ and his family because of this despite their love of him.

when he was 15 he put a fucking gay dating ad seeking a "friend/mentor" while pretending his was 18 by taking a photo of him on a roller coaster and blurring out the face. this plan did not work and he was banned from the sight. probably has a small bladder cause he needs to piss a lot!

Chase went through an emo phase where he frosted his hair tips. god i wish we saw that. Chase thought his little goatee would grow into a full beard. it did not. Chase Hunter is my babygirl!! Chase and Leo went to TJ's christian party thing and spent the entire party making out in Leo's car. Chase bottomed for most of his relationship with Leo. Chase is 5'7. Chase once had Leo put his dick in a hotdog bun and was "shocked" at the result according to Leo. Chase is attending Pueblo University, can't believe i hadn't put that one down yet

Chase's legs are described as "stubby" and he isn't a great runner because of it. Chase doesn't like the idea of getting more help for his issues after having poor experiences with them as a kid. Chase used to get bullied sort of by Clint and Jeremy. Leo's family loved Chase when they were dating. Chase has a high amount of leg specific injuries across the entire vn.

Chase's original last name was going to be Cooper according to Howly. Chase is the first ECHO PROJECT PROTAGONIST!!!! BABYGIRL MADE HISTORY!!!!

im ending it there cause i have work in the morning :/

part 2 maybe ;3

[arcade-chaos]

Tongue Tied Valentine

Sun/Moon x reader (a bit sun centric, sorry sorry), they/them reader no use of Y/N.

Warnings: light self bondage, nothing overtly suggestive beyond a joke or two

Notes: late but still (technically) on time! Recycled drabble from a different idea, thank the aces for voting for fluff lmao. Enjoy!

Really they should’ve expected this hectic outcome. Valentine's day for children was nothing more than an excuse to eat as much candy as physically possible, maybe one or two trying to slip extra special spider man themed cards to their crushes only to run away screaming when that same crush came close. A time for chaos and lots of red confetti, but the attendants seemed to have gone a bit more… overboard than they had initially anticipated.

Sure, the kids had their little mailboxes set up made from tissue boxes and googly eyes, most of them had ended up dinosaur themed after one kid had an idea everyone wanted to copy. They littered the tables in little rows, surrounded by paper flowers, ribbons, confetti- it looked like they had both ignored charging in favor of stringing every inch of the place in reds and pinks.

“So so do you like it??” Sun bounced out from the chaos, spinning them around until the colors meshed together.

“It's very you Sunny-” They snorted, swaying as he held their shoulders upright.

“Good good good- Charline I said no slime in the ballpit!- I wish you had gotten to see it before they were ruined but-”

“Sunny it's okay, they look great!” His eyes darted over to one or two torn streamers about the room, before snagging on yet another rowdy child climbing into a slide.

“Timmy that’s not how we play on the slide!” He patted their arm in a soft apology before running over, not before the kid was flushed out by two more kids sliding down into him. The only one to seem particularly bothered by it was Sun, who was careful to check them all for bruises before letting them run off. They watched for a moment before wandering towards the tables, eyeing the piles of candy in each box as they passed by, more out of curiosity than anything.

They paused near one of the tables, where their box sat with the one Sun made, painted half blue and half yellow with a little divider section for each of them. There were one or two in their box, mostly from the kids whose parents seemed to enjoy chatting with them, but the attendants' boxes were nearly empty, save for a clearly recycled doll themed valentine someone had taken the candy from. It made sense, they supposed, most of the adults only counted the kids in the daycare for their purchasing, why buy candy or stickers for a robot. It still made them feel sad, they had worked so hard to decorate and make little cards for each of the children, it was clear they really loved this holiday. With a firmer step now they marched to the desk, settling down with a few sticky notes to sketch out some plans.

If I run to the drug store on my break I can probably get some stickers… Maybe one of those giant plushies or something- it would take the whole break but maybe if I get someone to cover put down for me- They shuffled the papers as Sun came back into view, carting one of the younger kids away from a particularly rowdy game of tag. He sat her down gently at the table and offered some crayons, sitting on the floor nearby to color with her as he watched the game progress. He paused while shifting, glancing down at the boxes in the center of the table with a strangely still expression. He was pulled out of that thought by the little girl waving a crayon at him, demanding his addition to her drawing. They sighed as he cooed over it, clearly he was disappointed. They both deserved something special, if only they had remembered in time.

As if sensing the momentary distraction from their caretakers the kids began to shout, two in need of help with a shelf, one climbing up the netting, and another yelling at them for doing so. Sun took off to pull the kid down while they distributed plastic food to the children, who immediately launched into playing El Chips, whining when the assistant tried to walk away to help another kid tie their shoes. There wasn’t a moment to sit let alone think, by the time the lights dimmed they had only managed to grab a small handful of glitter vials and a single pair of craft scissors, not even the pair they wanted.

“Alright little comets, gather up now.” Moon hummed, pulling them away from their games and the shadowy corners of the playground. It didn’t stop them from bouncing about, even trying to enforce the no candy until after lunch time rule had its breakers. “Settle, or you won't hear the very special story we have prepared! And to think I worked so hard on it…” The kids shouted in protest before being hushed, settling into a lump in the story area. Just when they thought they could slip away Moon’s arm was around their waist, pulling them over to a stack of puppets. “Just follow my lead.” He murmured, ignoring the oohs and awws of the children at the display. Moon was a natural at leading the show, leaving them to improv with their own puppets as his screamed in terror at the fierce dragon on display. As the moondrops kicked in and the kids got sleepy it drifted into a calmer romance, the kids clapping as the handsome knight kissed the dragon and they bowed into their happily ever after back on the pile.

“Nighty night.” He called, his fingers curling as the ones still awake echoed his words. They glanced at the clock and winced, at this rate they’d never be able to make it to any store, let alone one carrying last minute valentines. “You should eat something starlight.” Moon chided, pushing them towards the door gently. “I’ve got them.”

“Thanks Moonie. I’ll be back before lights on, okay?” They knew how lonesome he got, only allowed a few precious hours together. His grin widened, his head spinning around before swaying upside down.

“I look forward to it.”

The rest of the plex was faring no better. The area just outside the daycare pickup was flocked with parents and couples, flooding around specially themed displays of the glamrocks. The music pouring over the speakers was cute, if not a little goofy, of Freddy covering some song old enough to be cheap but not too old as to be irrelevant. After pushing past a couple hundred people they managed to get into one of the breakrooms, seldom staffed by people.

“Happy day before half off chocolate day.” Quinn joked, his jazz hands making their grin no wider.

“Why are there so many peopleeeeeeee??” They groaned, feeding a few quarters into the machine for a drink.

“Special concert, with bonus chocolates from your fav if they're willing to shill. And boy howdy are they shilling.”

“I don’t suppose they have any kind of plushie option huh?” Quinn eyed them, the corner of their mouth twitching into a smirk before being covered.

“I don’t think so but I can bother em. They’d probably be glam themed anyhow, none of your precious boys I’m afraid.” He snorted as they choked, both of them ending up coughing.

“Oh shush, it’s for them not about them!”

“Ohh? Finally making a move then-”

“NOT LIKE THAT!”

“No no, I’m sure it’s totally above board, no need to worry about little ol me.” They groaned, rifling through the snack supplies Coral usually restocked. Cheez-its are basically lunch right?... I just wont tell them. They glanced over as Quinns watch beeped, one of the Monty themed ones he always had, they were pretty sure those weren’t standard for mechanics but hey, what did they care.

“They said no generic plushies, most of them are over fivty bucks anyhow- what the FUCK”

“Christ-” They groaned, fighting the urge to recalculate their budgeting on a napkin. A hundred bucks would put them way under their needs anyways.

“You could always make em something, don’t your boys have crafts n shit there?”

“I’ve been trying but the kids are being well- kids- and I doubt they’ll get better after naptime.”

“Mm. Maybe try online? There’s probably a million broke or forgetful valentines going down the same rabbit hole.” They nodded, waving as Quinn quickly stood to walk out.

“What do you MEAN he got two??” Chica’s snickering through the watch was loud enough to hear even as he left them wallowing, scrolling through stolen pins for a glimpse of an idea. Most of the listicles had more time than they did, lots of paper crafts and yarn. Those that weren’t offering crafts had less Faz-bear approved recommendations, most of which sounded like a sensory hell and a sticky nightmare. Although…

---

“Moonie psst.”

“You don’t have to whisper.” Moon mumbled, trying his best to keep his folds straight and careful.

“Sorry sorry, but maybe there's more paper in our stash upstairs-”

“I checked upstairs sunshine, this is the last of it.” They really should’ve watched the stock before letting the kids go ham on their mailboxes, there was hardly any glitter left and most of the glue sticks had been dried out by neglect.

“Under the mattress too?”

“You used those for snowflakes, remember?” Sun whined inside their skull, Moon was sure if he was up front he’d be pulling at their face. “It’ll be alright, we just have to be careful with this paper.”

“But its already crinkled!! It needs to be perfect- did you see how upset they looked?? There was hardly anything in their box- and they worked so hard on it!!” Moon sighed, placing the paper down so he could pull his knees tighter.

“I thought I’d have more time. Maybe that play was a mistake.” Half of the kids had tried to wake up, most of them after one kid had a particularly sour nightmare about being hunted down by a hungry dragon.

“Hush, you did great!! It’s not your fault I should’ve watched the clock more- we can always take down some of the ribbons if we need more paper-”

“No no, you said it yourself, we have to make this one perfect.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They really wished their luck would’ve held out, as though stuck by Apollo himself the rest of their day was spent chasing the kids as they switched between hide and seek and trying to tag each other with ‘cooties’- in this case just some kids making kissy noises. Better than a licked palm they supposed. The attendants seemed just as tired, racing around trying to distract them with calmer activities that were pushed away in favor of more games, even a movie couldn’t settle them down. By the time it had simmered down most of the kids were gone, the last usual wave of parents sneaking closer as they both tried to get a head start on cleaning. Luckily the last few were enraptured by a game of house vs house, with a storyline too convoluted to even try to follow. Sun seemed even more anxious by the moment, glancing up at the clock as though he didn’t have an internal time sensor, waiting for the parents to pick up their kids and their pounds of candy.

“Moooom!” One of them shouted, waving through the window as a few parents made their way past the departing crowd.

“Can you get them for me Sunny? I’ll clean up the crafts area for you.”

“Okie dokie!” They both perked up, Sun skipping off to greet them as they shifted and brushed crayons into the box. A roll of white ribbon sat partially unspooled, allowing them to roll it before slipping it into the apron pocket. They could’ve sworn there was a pink one, but white would be good enough.

“I’ll be over here cleaning the house! Feel free to relax, starlight!” They swallowed their nerves, watching as he disappeared around a corner.

“Can do!” Bingo. They were careful to duck behind the desk, carefully cutting strips of ribbon with the safety scissors as their face heated up. It would be fine, the two had been begging for a sleepover for a while now, surely the metaphorical “I’m your valentines gift” gesture could be translated to a friendly sleepover right? “Hey Sunny?”

“Y- Yes star??” They swallowed down their nerves, tiptoeing towards the hidden door leading up to their room.

“I have a surprise for you- if you want! Both of you? I mean-” They struggled, palming at the knob as they crept around the corner of the frame.

“Oh!! Us too- I mean we for you- I mean-”

“Oh! Cool! Um, is it okay if we meet in your room?”

“Yeah! Just give us a second, okay?”

“Mhm!” They practically leaped up the stairs, trailing their hands along the rail as they tried to keep the wonky bow intact. A lot of the sites for looking up knots weren’t allowed by the plex’s wifi, but as long as they weren’t strained it would be just fine.

“Starlight?” Sun called from beyond the tube, shifting around the opening.

“In here!”

“Oh good good. Could you close your eyes for me reaaal quick? I want this to be perfect.”

“Sure! Sure… Actually, we could both close our eyes and do it at the same time maybe?”

“Yes! Yes, perfect.” They tried not to shiver as he snuck inside, jingling as he nearly tripped over their mess. “Okay okay… On three?”

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three-”

“Happy valentines-” They both froze up. They were practically mirror images, Sun’s own ribbon in yellow making him hold his hands out in front of him. They swayed for a moment before breaking into a grin, both of them laughing as they struggled to stay standing.

“Looks like we both had the same idea, huh?” Sun giggled, settling on the cushion on the floor.

“I suppose so! I meant to make you a really good one, honest, but the day went so fast and… Well…”

“It’s alright Sunny, I blanked too.” They settled close, their cheeks burning as they shifted. “I um. I was going to offer to sleepover tonight- if you wanted-”

“Really?!” he jumped, his arms looping over them to trap them both in the ribbon. “Oh we would love that!! We can watch movies and play games- I just got a new one, a really really good one I promise!”

“Sounds good! Uh, Sunny?”

“Mhm?”

“I uh. I’m kinda stuck.” They glanced up as he straightened, his rays twitching for a moment as he thought.

“Starlight?”

“Ya?”

“I have no clue how to untie this.” They snorted, their forehead smacking into his chestplate. “Don’t laugh! Moonie tied them all weird!”

“Lemme see, maybe I can get you untied without the scissors.” They shifted, managing to wiggle out of their bonds before trailing their fingers along his arm. The repeated transition of silk to metal was soft against their touch, Sun’s chest whirring as he watched them slowly mull over the knots. If their eyes lingered for a bit too long, or took a bit more time than needed, he wasn’t complaining. Not while he had his valentine.

[ebongawk]

WIP Whenever

tysm @justhere4thevibez for the tag!!

Okay I have way too many WIPs to do snippets from them all but the two main ones I'm working on are:

the time travel AU:

“Eddie?” Whether it was the sound of his name or the weight of his gaze that grabbed her attention, Chrissy glanced up.  Taken aback, blinking in surprise, Chrissy looked toward her boyfriend briefly before her eyes met his again.  Catching him in the act of openly staring, and Eddie knew he was being a creep.  But he couldn’t stop.  He couldn’t look away.  He couldn’t breathe. She was even wearing her fucking cheer uniform. She’s gonna die soon. But she’s alive right now. And she was looking right at him. “Eddie, man, you good?” A sudden pat to his shoulder snapped the moment clean in half, yanking his attention away from her endlessly sad eyes.  Eyes that no one else seemed to notice.  Heaving in a great breath, Eddie felt his entire body go numb, looking away from Chrissy Cunningham.  Putting her back in his periphery, where she’d lived for so many years before that fateful March day, as he caught Henderson’s concerned expression.  Sinclair and Wheeler were also staring at him like he’d lost his marbles, unapologetically staring at the basketball captain’s girlfriend. “I-I––” he started, taking a half-step back. “You good?” Dustin asked again, hesitance coloring his tone in blue worry.  “You look like you just saw a ghost.” I did. She’s gonna die.  She’s gonna die. She’s gonna die, and it’s all my fucking fault.

AND the cuckolding AU:

“You haven’t even ordered yet.” Hesitating, Chrissy let out a slow, deep breath, eyes still tracing the granules of wood beneath her fingertips.  They glanced up, washing over the mass of glass bottles lined up in neat little rows, silently picking apart the labels and trying to assuage which one would be safest.  Least caloric.  Trying to maintain appearances, or something.  Trying to pretend her lie of a relationship hadn’t just imploded, and she needed to remain pleasant and small to keep Jason interested.  As her mother told her, all through high school.  Even if all she wanted was a Sex on the Beach.  “Um.  A vodka tonic, please?” The bartender scoffed.  He scoffed. “Princess, listen,” he said, leaning so his own elbows were propped on the bar just inches from hers.  “You really want a vodka tonic?  I’ll make you the best goddamn vodka tonic you’ve ever had in your life.  But if you’re gonna keep eye-fucking my peach schnapps like it’s a four course meal, I’m gonna end up charging you for it.” “Oh, my God.”  She was laughing so hard her stomach had started to hurt. “It’s a dollar a shot, you dig?” “Listen, Mr. Barkeep––” “Eddie,” he interrupted to introduce himself. “I am not eye-fucking your peach schnapps,” she cried around the humor in her throat.  God, it tasted so good.  Almost as good as a Sex on the Beach.  “I didn’t even think bartenders could talk like that!  What happened to customer service?” “Alright, princess––” “Chrissy.” “Maybe the bartenders don’t talk like that at the royal castle in the sky that you obviously floated down from,” he grinned to show her he was still joking, “but this is my bar, and I can say eye-fucking all I want.”

(completely different vibes of stories lmao)

I'm tagging anyone who wants to participate!

[bihanspookies]

My Hero has “officially” unofficially ended (leaks) so naturally i must share one of my many ocs that I will never do anything with lmao. Once again copying and pasting with little to no editing

Name: Ririko Kayama

Villain Name: Paradox

Age: 31

Birthday: March 9th

Hair: Long, wavy and light pink, curls in at the ends.

Eyes: Champagne

Distinguishing Features: Besides her scar and eyepatch, elf like ears and a beauty mark under her right eye.

Height: 5’9

Build: Tall, BOOBS, long legs, no ass :/

Scars: Over her left eye from a gang fight

Piercings: two on her ears

Tattoos: Dragon tattoo down her spine

Makeup: Black eyeliner, black/gray eyeshadow, wine colored lipstick.

Quirk: Enchantress

Like a siren, can put her victims in a hypnosis like state through an aroma that comes from her hands. Only works for about 10 minutes and the victim isn’t aware of what’s happening. Her quirk is so powerful that she could essentially command a person to stop breathing, however the more extreme the action the more energy it takes out of her. Overhaul enhances her power enough that her spit can also hypnotize a person.

History: Growing up she was always showered with compliments and at first she was awkward about it but when she got into high school she did her best to deject and turn them away. Didn’t like confrontation so whenever boys would talk to her or girls would bother her, she would ignore or politely turn them down. Some people would fake to become her friend to try and get her to do favors for them such as getting their crush to like them, however they dropped her as soon as they realized the effect goes away after a while.

Nemuri (Midnight, her sister) did her best to protect Ririko but there was only so much she could do for her and encouraged her sister to learn how to stand up and defend herself.

She didn’t have much control over her quirk (and also didn’t know if it was just by physical touch) so she wore gloves as protection but even then people would still flaunt to her. Since the girls didn’t like her they stayed away so she didn’t have friends except for Aizawa, Nemuri, and Hizashi.

One night while she was walking home, she was ambushed by a gang of four who attempted to rob her. She panicked and used her quirk on two of them, ultimately having the two men kill each other by stabbing one another. The leader got furious and kept asking her what she did and when she didn’t answer, he slashed her eye. Before things got worse, the police showed up and arrested them. They didn’t arrest/charge her but the event messed her up.

She went back to school the next day wearing an eyepatch and Hizashi and Aizawa questioned her, but she just gave a short answer saying she was attacked but she dealt with it. But the night severely traumatized her so she was having constant nightmares and with what she was dealing with at school just pushed her, so she disappeared without a trace.

She was on her own for a couple of years before Overhaul sent his men after her when hearing about her Quirk, knowing that he could use her to his advantage. Ririko denied him at first but when he told her he could help control her quirk and give her shelter, she accepted. Immediately knew it was a mistake when she got to the base but was too afraid to leave. Chisaki also told her that if she ever left or betrayed them, he would kill her. Does not know about Eri until later on when she walked in on him experimenting on her. She threatened to leave right there but then he said she owed him a debt for taking her in and housing her. She knows she could try using her quirk on him to escape but is too afraid to try. Becomes a sort of mother figure to Eri but also doesn’t stop him because of what could happen to her.

Overhaul uses her Quirk to get people to do what he wants and turns her into a deadly seductress. They also start a physical relationship and he is quick to let her know that it’s just that and nothing more. Which she don’t got a problem with lmao, she hates the process of doing the sideways tango with him ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.

When Shie Hassaikai got invaded she did her best to get away, not wanting to get caught. When she sees Aizawa, she freezes in her tracks and so does he. They lock gazes for a moment before she runs off again. Aizawa wants to go after her but knows he can’t, that he was there to rescue Eri.

After the raid, she ends up with the LoV and gets close with Compress.

I haven’t thought about her much after bc she doesn’t necessarily want to be a villain but she doesn’t know what else to do with herself.

I also briefly thought about her and Aizawa having a one night stand but after she leaves Hassakai and she tells him “to make love to her even though she knows he doesn’t” bc ouch! And he does bc he just wants to give her any ounce of happiness he can.

I literally don’t know wtf happened from Stars and Stripes fighting Shigaraki all the way to the end BUT I kinda played around with the idea of her marrying gang orca (BC I SAID SO LMAO!!!!!) she gets her happy ending or she ends up on the run forever!!!! Who knows!!!!

[feralkwe]

I- 4; II- 5; III- 12

8D well then let's go shall we? lucky you, you get kit/elidibus. feel free to ignore any links. they're only there if anyone feels like having the context.

I - 4: did either of them try to resist their feelings?

they both did! out of a sense of obligation to their respective duties.

obviously kit went to elpis for pandaemonium with all the knowledge of the future and was understandably wary of elidibus. he was not what she expected, to say the least, even if she saw many parallels between him and the ascian she knew. his words to her before sos in shb finally made sense, as much as she did not want to believe them. but she was in a closed relationship back in the present, and knew that this affair was only ever going to end one way, so she resisted. that willpower quickly crumbled in the face of how enchanted they were with one another, and she did a lot of mental gymnastics to rationalize pursuing it.

without the context of the future, elidibus himself made... let's say a good college try of not acting on his quickly developing crush. he also knew it was only going to end in heartache. all the logic and reason at his disposal was not enough.

they were both aware of the consequences, but it did not stop them.

II - 5: what is their height difference? age difference? do either matter to them?

lmao kit is a full height female viera. elidibus is... not.

sometimes you're a gorgeous six foot two bun and you see a cute lil twink and ask "should i hit that?" and don't wait for an answer.

kit's actual age is young enough to get me canceled in some corners of the internet for her relationship with thancred and urianger, and the actual number is between me and my bun. that said, elidibus is noted to be young comparative to his peers, and i put them about the same relative age, given the near immortality of the ancients. both of them old enough to know better, but young enough to be inexperienced in love and any common sense regarding it.

i don't feel like either of these things matter to them. it sure didn't dissuade them in any part of their brief time together.

III - 12: who remembers the little things?

the thing about this ship that dug its claws into me and really keeps me in a choke hold is... neither. i'm a monster. i am absolutely feral over the fact that save that whirlwind affair between them, neither of them remembers at the same time. when he remembers, it hasn't actually happened yet in her life. When she finally knows, none of their tangled time as foes has happened to him yet. their knowledge of being in love marches off in separate directions. god i need to chew on something. get me a kong full of peanut butter, please.

however, after he returned to the aetherial sea, kit made it her duty to remember everything they had, good and bad, however short their joy was. she considers it part of the responsibility with which emet-selch charged her.

thanks so much for the ask! i know i promised you a full accounting of my shipping woes, so consider this installment the first!

ship meme here.

[glowingbadger]

So, having not played the games myself and only knowing about things from wiki and the occasional fanfic referencing in-game events I'm in the unfortunate position of adoring Tellius characters with no outlet. But scrolling down your blog has me thinking because you mentioned wondering about situations where Soren or Volke would get down and dirty. So picture if you will "I almost lost you forever" post-battle sex for Soren and stress-relief sex w/dirty talk for Volke.

oh no Friend Anon you activated my trap card

Volke came to mind first, but honestly, your idea for Soren is like one of the only ways I could even imagine him fucking because of just... how he is as a person lmao. So Soren will be coming in the future, I promise you- I keep wanting a good excuse to write him, after all.

To be clear to others btw, I'm not taking new requests right now, this one just hit me in Some Kinda Way. Which is why the impossible has happened and I'm posting writing two days in a row lmao.

Final side note, I literally can't tell you guys how shook I am that FEH has made it clear that the 'e' at the end of Volke's name ISN'T SILENT?? Like... Vol-keh?! What the entire shit.

** quick little TW for both characters being slightly buzzed

Volke (Fire Emblem PoR & RD) x AFAB Reader

NSFW drabbles 18+

"We- we should... go to a room," you say in a breathy whisper, though you're still tugging the front of Volke's cloak, opening one clasp at a time from where you shakily stand, pinned with your back against the storage room wall, "What if... the owner, or- or the barkeep..."

"The owner of this place owes me a few favors and more than a few back-payments," Volke's voice rumbles at the crook of your neck, "As for the barkeep... I frankly don't care what he happens to see," his hands slide under your tunic and up your back, sending shivers through you, "Do you?"

Instead of an answer, you tug him into a deep, messy kiss, and he groans out his approval. Your bodies are warmed by friction and the pleasant buzz of ale, the aches of weeks spent marching and fighting and surviving melting away with every new inch of skin his hands conquer. You feel the graze of his facial scruff against your skin as his tongue teases yours and his body traps you between him and the wall. You've finally managed to open the various layers of his clothing enough to run your hands up his nicely carved abdomen to his chest. Volke utters another low, masculine groan, and his hands grab your backside and pull you firmly against him. Then, his lips are traveling down the side of your neck, and your head is spinning from the heat, his body, the scent of booze and earthy pipe smoke that lingers on his clothes and hair. When at last he reaches the base of your neck, he presses his teeth to the tender skin, and you gasp out his name, your nails raking down his toned musculature.

"Keep making those cute little noises and we'll definitely attract unwanted guests."

"I- I can't help it, you-!"'

His low chuckle grazes across your skin, and before you realize, he's undone the front of your breeches with a single hand that is now pushing down into them.

"I never said I minded."

"Oh-!"

Your head tilts back and you cling to the front of his clothes as his fingers begin to pulse between your thighs. Perhaps you shouldn't be surprised that his hands are inhumanly dexterous, stroking around your clit at just the right angle, hitting just the right pace.

"So- what... is this gonna run me?" you huff the words out between weak whimpers of pleasure, attempting a confident, casual tone.

"I don't charge for these kinds of services," Volke matches your playful tone, in his own subtler way, "Business and pleasure- you understand."

"Shame, that," you gasp as his middle finger rolls a tight circle around the nub of your clit, "You'd... make a killing... Mmmhh..!"

Volke gives a short laugh.

"I'm flattered."

His pace quickens, his touch just a little firmer, and by instinct alone, your hips begin to shift in time with him. He's silent now as he drives you relentlessly closer to the edge, and with your bodies so close, you can't even look up to read his expression. You can only hold onto him in your desperation to steady yourself while his expert fingers send jolts of electrifying pleasure up your center. If he keeps this up for much longer, your knees may very well give out.

"Volke- ohh- fu-fuck, Volke, I'm-!"

"Don't."

His voice at your ear plunges through you, warming you more deeply than any liquor. Then, he pulls his hand from between your legs, and before you can question him, he turns you by your hips to face the wall.

"I want to feel it when you cum."

You brace your arms against the wall in front of you as Volke holds you with your back to him and his lips at your throat once again. Those skillful hands cup your breasts, squeezing and fondling them for just long enough to appreciate their shape in his palms before he moves on, and you arch back against him as his touch travels down your body. When he returns to your hips, he tugs you back to him so that his fully erect cock ruts against the swell of your ass, and you whimper his name. The way he manhandles you is firm and decisive, but not overly harsh, and never without that sense of control and deadly grace that he's known for. It's making your head spin. You need more. Mercifully, he doesn't plan to make you wait.

Volke pulls your clothes out of his way, then grabs a handful of your ass with one hand while his other works his stiff member out from his own clothing. Without a word or any ceremony, he presses the head of his cock to your drooling pussy, then begins to push inside, holding you in place against his thrust. The bulge of the tip and the slight curve of his shaft have him grinding into you in a thousand incredible ways, and your eyes begin to roll back before he's even bottomed out within you. You've wanted this too badly- the thrill of it all has very nearly wiped any thoughts of battle and training and strategizing from your mind. His member is slick with your release in no time, and he grunts into your ear as he begins to fuck steadily into you from behind.

"You feel good... damn good. Squeezing around me like that... Mmh..." His hips pitch forward, driving him in you to the base, filling you, stretching you, forcing a blissful sigh from your parted lips. The hand fondling your ass grips you more firmly, enjoying the erotic sensation of your plump flesh as it jiggles with every thrust. Then, you feel a quick, sharp slap across your backside that causes you to moan aloud, and Volke plants both of his hands on the wall in front of you. He's warm around you, the scent of liquor still potent on his breath, yet each sensation only heightens that of his throbbing cock plunging deep within you over and over.

"Damnit-" Volke's breath hitches, and he groans as he momentarily eases his pace and pushes his member into you slow and firm, "Can't afford to get... addicted to this."

The words seem more for him than for you, muttered in the midst of his efforts to steady himself. But before you even think to question him, his arm is around you and his hand is trailing down the front of your body. Never easing the persistent sway of his hips, his fingertips stroke across your clit once again, and you let out a desperate, blissful moan. Any concern you'd had about being discovered here has long vanished; the onslaught of pleasure is simply too much to bear. His dexterous fingers tend to your most sensitive nerves while his thick member stretches you perfectly around him.

"Fu-fuck, Volke..!"

"That's it, come on- let me feel it," his cock twitches, throbbing at your deepest point, perhaps provoked by the knowledge that you're so dearly close to release. Then, the sensation rushes through you like a crashing wave, and for a moment, you're dizzy and unsteady on your feet. Bracing yourself against the wall and Volke's sturdy frame, you shiver and whine his name as your cunt flexes around his length and your climax overtakes you. Amidst the overwhelming sensation, you barely register that Volke is panting harshly against your ear, his pace stuttering as he feels you cumming on his cock. By the time you feel yourself coming down from that incredible high, you're still shaking, barely keeping yourself upright as he chases his own satisfaction at last.

Volke doesn't say a word- only traps you in place with your back to his chest and both of his hands now gripping hard at your hips. He thrusts forcefully once, then twice, sheathing himself fully in your warmth until you feel his member pulsing with his own release. The way he's throbbing against your tender and over-stimulated inner walls is a shock to your system, but you rally your strength to stay upright while he pours volley after volley of thick cum into you. He utters an earnest and lustful groan, subtly swaying his hips to grant just a bit more of that intoxicating friction as he rides out the last of his orgasm, having filled you and then some. At last, you're both panting, sighing with the blissful aftershocks as the distant sounds of clinking mugs and rowdy tavern-goers float around you.

"Holy... holy fuck..." you gasp as he finally eases out of you. Volke takes a moment to fix his clothes, then turns you to face him, and you hold onto the front of his cloak while you regain your balance. "You... you pent up or something? You've made a real mess of me..." True enough, his load is already dripping slowly down your inner thigh.

"I'm a busy man. Not a lot of leisure time for someone in my line of work during a war. Come on, let's get you cleaned up. Then, another drink," he smirks, "If you're not spent, anyway."

"Generous of you," you reply, wearing a matching grin while you make a passing attempt at sorting your clothes and hair, "though if you're so busy, I'd hate to take up your valuable time."

Volke's shrewd eyes conspicuously scan your body once before eventually meeting yours.

"As I said- business and pleasure."

[transingthoseformers]

Jazz grabs Prowl by his elbow and cheerfully turns anyone looking in their direction off, pulling him back to his office and locking it.

"So, you want me to ruin him? You give me the word, and he's done, babe. I may like the guy, but not enough not to destroy his self-righteous aft. That kiss? Frag him. I know things, trust me. I can find more if you want me to. I'll even let you take your pick of the flavor of ruination! Nobody frags around with my favorite Prowl and gets off. Not even the Super Cop."

Prowl just kind of bluescreens because Jazz sounds furious in the chipper threatening way that always means someone is going to suffer.

He sounds furious on Prowl’s behalf.

Like he is taking Prowl’s side in this fake breakup. Prowl had been under the impression Jazz liked Orion Pax. They'd certainly joked and talked and laughed every time Orion had met Prowl in the office. Prowl doesn't like to admit it but he's perplexed.

Jazz does not make sense.

"Why?" Prowl finally asks, completely confused and showing it.

Jazz cuts himself off looks at Prowl silently a for moments before smiling brightly.

"Ah, Prowl, what kind of friend, amica to be, would I be if I let someone break your Spark and swan off? This is called friendly fire."

Prowl is feeling a lot at that. A lot he doesn't have words for. But he can address one thing.

"That is not how you use that term."

Jazz laughs.

Prowl realizes with a little surprise, he has a friend.

-

With Jazz leading the charge or at least he assume it was Jazz, his work seems to widely fall on siding with Prowl. A novel experience. Even if it was under the wrong assumption.

Prowl had forgotten to correct Jazz’s assumption due to his reveleation of their friendship and the slip of mentioning a potential Amica courtship, leaving him flustered. When he'd thought to, it was too late to confess, so he let it lay.

The only one not silently brewing with apparent righteous rage on Prowl’s behalf is Sentinel. He's been humming, practically skipping since he heard about the breakup. Prowl swore he was smiling when Prowl brought him reports, definitely humming some kind of marching song with cheer and utter glee that did not match his words when he said, "So sorry to hear things didn't work out"

Prowl was furious. At Orion as well because with Prowl's spark so thoroughly broken, there was no way anyone else would respond to his flirtations lest they face the wrath of Jazz for taking advantage of him.

Clearly, Prowl needed drastic measures, especially since Jazz had confiscated his Engex when he'd caught Prowl drinking as part of his backup plan. This only added to Jazz’s chilly regard in Prowl’s defense which was so touching he couldn't actually go through being drunk and trying to get released on dereliction of duty, a lesser charge in the grand scheme. Jaz would be disappointed and that, now, meant something.

So Prowl needed a new target.

One Jazz couldn't intimidate given how thoroughly he'd scared off Barricade.

Then, while Sentinel is smirking about how torn up Prowl must be while they are alone both fully aware that Orion, while Prowl had developed some friendly feeling, was a means to an end, it hits him.

Sentinel.

He smiles like a Sharkticon, and Sentinel cuts off, narrowing his optics at him suspiciously.

Oh course Jazz of course

Jazz is prepared to throw down with Orion for "breaking Prowl's spark" which is kinda what happened lmao

Because Jazz cares about you, darling. So so much.

Hmm interesting interesting

of course Sentinel.

Skdfjg oh jazz you're trying to help your friend but alas.

Target acquired: Sentinel

[lemonhemlock]

That being said, I'd like to add that Aegon agreed to send Rhaenyra those generous peace terms after he was crowned + the debacle with Meleys. So he may have liked how the crowd responded to him, but he wasn't so high on power that he refused to do what his mother advised.

That whole Meleys scene should be a monumental beat for all characters facing her! And for King's Landing as a backdrop (and greek chorus, one would hope?) but I doubt they will since they boldfaced stated they did that all for an epic MCU moment which is such a shame.. like that's major??? Guess just another Tuesday in King's Landing huh?

Like I really wonder do the writers understand the major implications for, at least, the main cast of characters? Background characters and settings such as the peasants aside for now. Like I believe you're absolutely right in your reading of Aegon by the end of EP10 as at least cooperative to a certain extent, but are the writers? IDK what it looks like inside a writing room and what it's like having to share a narrative with so many people but IDK Scoobs it's not looking that bright.......

I totally follow prev. Anon's line of thinking and I really hope for something nuanced that won't clock you over the head.

I actually don't think we will stay with Aegon a lot... everyone working on HOTD seem to agree that Alicent and Rhaenyra are the MCs and heart of the show which I have nothing against but by nature of it Aegon is secondary to tertiary character. And I say tertiary because they made a bigger effort to put us in, for example, Aemond's POV and I expect them to keep it up going forward. I see no reason why they wouldn't, tho, If I remember correctly, Condal did say he's very interested in the reign of Aegon II so maybe they're saving Aegon-focus for his Hysterical King Arc. Additionally, Aegon will be down post-RR while Aemond is doing fuck all as Prince Regent and Local Terror of Riverland, then Aegon disappears from the face of the earth and the narrative until Sunfyre hits him up again. OFC this is all speculation on my side and depending on the narrative they decide to shoot for, focus and POV can shift. Yet, once again, I see no reason why they would.

I fully expect to see Fight over Dragonstone focalized thru Baela's POV (tho there's much more wiggle room in visual mediums), which I don't mind; she barely gets anything to do in the war as it is.

Rhaenyra being chosen as a POV for her own death march to Dragonstone is a no-brainer.

His return to KL in F&B is already super gloomy and cursed. Hell, his reign is called The Sad Short Reign LMAO so I expect the tone to be kept as oppressive and gloomy as the coronation, if not worse. Like this man is not gonna have a "facing the white stag" fairytale moment. Maybe a dove will anoint him by shitting on him IDK!

Hope the vibes of this ask aren't too bad; I'm in fact rather cheery since I'll be entertained either way!

That whole Meleys scene should be a monumental beat for all characters facing her!

Agreed! Aegon finally has his confirmation that Mother loves him. He should be obsessed with that, instead of towering over her (IDK??) Isn't that more interesting, at least? Trailing behind her like a puppy? King Chihuahua?

Like I really wonder do the writers understand the major implications for, at least, the main cast of characters? Background characters and settings such as the peasants aside for now. Like I believe you're absolutely right in your reading of Aegon by the end of EP10 as at least cooperative to a certain extent, but are the writers? IDK what it looks like inside a writing room and what it's like having to share a narrative with so many people but IDK Scoobs it's not looking that bright.......

Yeah, I expect there are going to be inconsistencies when you have many different writers, each with their different take on the characters (that's inevitable), but there should be someone in charge to even things out and keep track of them thematically. Maybe that's why we had Alicent bitchy @ Rhaenyra in one episode and then wanting to reconcile in the next, with little context/explanation in between?

If I remember correctly, Condal did say he's very interested in the reign of Aegon II so maybe they're saving Aegon-focus for his Hysterical King Arc.

I hope you're right and I hope it means he'll get something to work with.

Aegon disappears from the face of the earth and the narrative until Sunfyre hits him up again.

They could do a lot with this actually. He has to convince some Dragonstone people to take him in and care for him, defect for Rhaenyra and fight for his cause instead. That's no easy feat and could constitute for some meaty, compelling characterization. I hope they're not going to show him in a coma for 3/5s of the show. 💀

His return to KL in F&B is already super gloomy and cursed. Hell, his reign is called The Sad Short Reign LMAO so I expect the tone to be kept as oppressive and gloomy as the coronation, if not worse. Like this man is not gonna have a "facing the white stag" fairytale moment. Maybe a dove will anoint him by shitting on him IDK!

This is the perfect time to go full-Commodus!!! But there has to be some sort of progression to get there, otherwise what's the point of his arc? If he's just a flat character.

Hope the vibes of this ask aren't too bad; I'm in fact rather cheery since I'll be entertained either way!

No worries, I also aimed to be entertained. I just hope we get the best possible story. 😭

[nerdyenby]

Blue time :D I’m watching H

Pregame

We love the confidence :))

H is hungover, this can only go well /lh

Dave 3v1!!!

Callum is MCC’s collective imaginary friend, real and true

H sounded like such an angry parent when he said Shane’s name lmao

Callum: “Hello team!!” Kara and Sausage: “Hello” Callum: “and- and others others” H and Pete: “that’s me!!” I love this pre-event practice amalgams of a group :)))

Callum telling Shane he can’t name two things Callum is better at than him and Shane just calling him handsome

This is so chaotic, I’m so happy right now you guys

Tubbo is such a menace

“I didn’t even know it was freaking March” “it’s May” “ITS MAY?!???” realest thing tubbo’s ever said lol

This call is such a mess /pos

TUBBO BANNED LMAO

Oh this team is gonna be so chill, I’m so ready

Eret being so confused about Krinios “winning” $1.5k

Ryan breaking their monitor with a controller 😭😭😭

Rocket Spleef

Them talking about how Jojo was on both the first all-women and all-spanish teams

“Who do is still need to collect?” “Collect?!? Like they’re trading cards” “They are trading cards to me” 😂😂😂

I could totally see H doing a TCG pack opening stream

“I don’t think, I just do” *immediately falls to the bottom of the map*

I agree with H saying RSR is a bad first game, it think belongs mid-event

“No one’s dead yet, I don’t like that” “I’ll be the first if you want” Ryan 😂

I actually love the compass idea so much

HOW did H die there??? Lmao

Eret movement game anti, as she should

That was a solid third round

Everyone being so happy for/proud of Ryan getting top ten :))

TGTTOSAWAF

Talking about the lack of game music “Alone with the demons in my mind” Ryan 😭

The Krinios puns are so bad /pos

“I’m gonna say it, I’m gonna say it” “Say what?” “I hate tgttos” the entire team: *surprised pikachu face*

I never wanted to hear “sexy chicken, baby” come out of Cub’s mouth, ever

Parkour Warrior

“God, I love that logo” based!!!

Philza made minecraft, real and true

Are you “I need music in my brain 24/7” adhd or “forgot music existed for two weeks once” adhd

The twitch rivals shade 😂😂😂

I too love the moving platforms but I also feel like I could cry if I was trying real hard and couldn’t get it

The absolute silence after “‘the edgy posts’ follow me on twitter” 😂

The “hi Cub… bye Cub” is sending me

“Don’t explode Ry- uh, Eret” “I’ll try not to” “I will, however, explode” Ryan 😂

“That’s my bad, guys” “What do you mean it’s your bad, it’s our bad, we both suck” Eret my beloved

Parkour Tag

Parkour tag my beloathed /aff

H did so good against lime!! He got all three in 35 seconds!!!

H’s comms are insane

I love how there’s not really a designated leader here, like H might be the default assumption but they’re really all equals in how they interact and communicate. It’s not a given that a certain person in is igl, they ask/say “ok I’m gonna take charge here” when applicable, I love them

Cub don’t know his lefts and rights /lh

17 SECONDS???? THEYRE INSANEEEEE

Cub’s jukes!!!

H getting onto Ryan for not carrying hard enough 😂

Grid Runners

I’ll say it every single time, grid runners is a freaking amazing game

Eret immediately crashing oh my lord

That was painful to watch 😬

“Sorry about that guys” “Nah, now we have fun” I love H, he’s not taking any of Eret’s apologies

Good comms :)))

Listen to Eret 😭😭😭

H misunderstanding the task and talking over everyone else, that’s my streamer /lh

Best grid runners in history lmao

NOT LAST!!! :D

Meltdown

I too would die for HBomb94, so true Ryan

Awww lime flanked

Yeah that was a solid play

Eret going through it, rip

That was such a good fight against orange

Ayyyy first place!!!!

H’s flank there was INSANE

The purple/Purpled distinction messed em up lol

One of the most fun meltdowns I’ve seen :))

Eret needs to stop beating herself up about not getting better at movement, doesn’t she have dyspraxia? They literally can’t help it

Survival Games

Ryan just wanting to sot with H :((

I was gonna say it’s impressive that they all got out of that alive and then bam

Rip

H hyping up sand keepers, as he should!!!!

Sot antis only take Ls

Sands of Time

H encouraging Walli <333

Ryan getting full on yelled at for saying they’re gonna offhand carpet 😂

I don’t like how quiet Eret’s being but I trust him

They’re all so attentive and on top of it :)))

THEYRE SO GOATED!!

“It’s the last game, Ryan, have a little fun” “okay” “Play a little risky, have fun” “okay” his freaking voice

“I trust you” “Youre good a minecraft, I believe in you boss” “really?” Ryan is peak 🥹 energy

They’re swimming in sand

RIP IT CUB!!!!

We’re having so much fun here

YOOOOOOOOOOOO

6KKKKKKKKKK

DUBFAN!!!!!!!!!!!

That felt so freaking good, I’m so happy man

Dodgebolt

They’re all so excited for red :))

People predicted blue low?? I placed them first lol

“I’ve never actually spoken to Wallibear, so I’m gonna say that I hope he’s a great guy”

The confusion over Capitan’s skin is killing me lol

“We english speakers SUCK” real

Hi Illumina :)))

H gently elbowing Cub into believing in himself lmao

Let’s all team with Illumina

They’re like kids fighting over the most popular toy

I would actually love to see a 5-player team event, it would be so fun and so scuffed if they just barely changed anything

Great vibes great times :)))

[ice-knife]

9, 10, 12, and 26 for russo ♥

OH VERY FUN QUESTIONS!! we shall build russo together this way 💕 // non-spoilery rook questions

9. What is Rook like on the battlefield?

russo is as quiet on the battlefield as he is in conversation. he definitely prefers fighting with other, more flashier combatants so they can distract the foe and russo can exploit that weakness. you don’t expect someone as tall as him to move like he does, but he’s like a shadow

10. Does Rook know their history? Do they know of the HoF, Hawke, the Inquisitor?

so this is a funny question specifically because. he’s vaguely aware of the inquisitor but house de riva wasn’t a house that worked with the inquisition, and while houses de riva and caldera did work together when trying to track down zevran in the free marches, russo was too young of a recruit to know the details about that, let alone to know much about hawke’s involvement there

but he does know about the hero of ferelden! not necessarily due to the fact that fyfa stopped the fifth blight, though. more due to the fact that russo witnessed fyfa helping zevran to decimate house arainai. he got to watch her stab somebody in the face, i think. Fun Times

12. Does Rook have any family? Do they keep in touch?

i am not being original by saying that russo and viago have a family-type bond, nor am i trying to be lmao. he really likes viago though! nobody can piss those two off quite like each other. teia simultaneously wants to study them both under a magnifying glass and knock their heads together

as for blood family, i don’t think russo has any </3 i’m hammering out his backstory still, but i doubt he has any living family. maybe a distant aunt or smth he’s vaguely aware of and occasionally, briefly wonders how life would be different if she had taken him in, but not a woman he ever met in person

26. Rook is in charge of the grocery list. What’s on it?

he’s a really good pick to handle the grocery list because he has a knack for remembering things people have said they wanted to try but haven’t yet, or things that others have specifically said they love. he remembers favourite tea blends, orlesian candy that catches the eye in a window display, the cooking wine someone swears by, such like that. and one he’s listed everything everybody else needs and wants, he adds fish for himself. motherfucker goes crazy for good salmon

[sapphire-wine]

February 2023 Fic Recap

Me when I have to do the thing I said I was going to do: 😔

Fics posted Trapped inside of your own heart (G) Oryctolagus cuniculus (E)

General

Trapped inside of your own heart

He takes a cloth from the bowl beside him and strings out the water. Leans over and presses it to Edgeworth’s head, keeping mindful of the horns. He dabs at his face, though he thinks that might only serve to wet the fur underneath. “I’d like to be friends.” He replies. Edgeworth huffs. “Friends.” “Yeah. Is that so wrong? I’m here either way.” ~~ The scene from Beauty and the Beast where he fights off the wolves and that sparks their blossoming relationship with some wound care. Very charged. Very beautiful, very powerful.

I wrote this immediately after posting the bunny fic. I won't lie there was no prep or planning involved, I just love the tension of treating someone’s injuries. Grow closer, idiots. Lore has come to my mind for this fic if I ever write more but it might be lost to the pile of motivation death with the other fics that might not see the light of day. Specifically I’m thinking of an Edgeworth POV fic taking place the morning after this fic and a Phoenix POV fic for the ‘end’ of the story, though I’ve thought of different versions of it. I’m very partial to the older versions of the fairytale where they’re just chill with each other from the beginning and the Beast just lets her leave and then just almost dies in a bush because he missed her so much lmao. Of course it would have to factor in the layers of von Karma etc but the more I think about it the more Franziska particularly is giving me a hard time to fit. However, the world is my oyster and the ideas and motivation will come in their own time. Anyway I did love this fic would love to write another one like it one day.

Explicit

Oryctolagus cuniculus

When Phoenix received an urgent message from his partner telling him to come home immediately, this wasn’t the situation he pictured waiting for him. Miles Edgeworth. Standing in the middle of the living room. Floppy ears the same color as his hair hanging behind his bangs. ~~ The bunnygirlification of Miles Edgeworth in 1.8k words but only using the synonyms for cock from that tumblr tier list post.

This is it. My February magnum opus. This one I thought a lot of people were going to be mad at me for in two directions since I bunnygirl’d him and if they liked that I then did the synonyms bit from a tumblr post I saw on tier lists. I came up with the actual fic plot in the morning and then sat on it for the entire day until going “yeah alright I can bang this out in an hour and a half or so” because that is the timer I set for myself to write now and then just add minutes onto it. Since people still thought it was upsettingly hot I’m considering this a win. If you didn’t know, the title is the binomial nomenclature for European rabbits. The endnote for this was almost ‘this fic was written in jest but the puppy play one was real.’ I could make this one real tho with the right motivation I can and will animal play him fr fr.

Overall, I keep writing a lot of words and then not finishing the fics so hopefully March will be nicer to be in finishing the entire process.

Bonus: Monthly Update to the 2023 version of the most important pie chart

[gardenerian]

OH what are some ways Mickey is powerless to his puppy hubby 🥹🥰

ian knows his own power, which drives mickey up the goddamn wall. but he still remains powerless to puppy husband....

ian eats the last muffin, mickey wants to throttle him. franny and debs made his favorite kind - chocolate chip, basically a cupcake asfkldh - and he was looking forward to it for his sunday snack. he comes into the kitchen and sees the tin sitting in the sink, crumbs still at the bottom - fucker didn't even wash it. he marches out onto the balcony, ready to push ian over the edge, when puppy husband works his magic. 🥺 i'm sorry mick 🥺 it looked so good 🥺 i am a growing boy 🥺 i'll make you more 🥺 and damn it if the idea of that stupid face covered in flour doesn't melt mickey's gay little heart lmao

mickey and his brothers go on some wacky roadtrip to see mandy. ian can't go (work thing? school thing?), and he's devastated. so ian calls and texts and facetimes all day long like 🥺 are you driving safely 🥺 can you call me 🥺 where you eating dinner tonight and can you please eat a vegetable 🥺 do you miss me 🥺 what color is mandy's hair now 🥺 i miss you 🥺 tell mandy i said hi 🥺 and iggy's like TURN YOUR PHONE OFF but mickey just makes sure it's always charged up so he can chat with his eager dumbass

and then of course when he gets back home, ian attacks mickey with hugs and slobbery kisses and bounds around the apartment all excited, following him from room to room 🥺🥺🥺 crawls into mickey's lap and stays there for hours like 😇

[ca11istee]

Bermuda Locket Pre-Fic Timeline

hey! i finally did the thing i said i was gonna do! i ended up removing most instances of valerie/the arasakas from the timeline since johnny and samurai kinda took it over when i spruced it up, but i did leave birthdays at the beginning.

for anyone wondering what the fuck this is, it’s a pre-fic timeline for my modern au silverv fic on ao3. this is not canon at all to cyberpunk or the ttrpg books (even though i borrowed heavily from them).

everything’s below the cut because its a massive post (1983-2023)

i’m sort of sure i kept all the dates/ages accurate? don’t @ me if i messed something up lol time math is hard. there’s also a fair bit of legally gray areas, especially when johnny is a teenager. don’t think too hard about it. i already did and fried my brain with google searches like “losing child custody during imprisonment in texas in 2003″ or something lmao.

triggers listed in the tags because of course there're triggers.

1980’s

July 25, 1983 – Alteria Cunningham (Alt) is born

1985 – Henry is born

1986 – Denny is born

May 8, 1987 – Nancy Hartley is born

January 3, 1988 – Kerry Eurodyne is born

November 16, 1988 – Robert John Linder (Johnny) is born

1990’s

January 1991 – Johnny’s father, a Marine, dies in the Gulf War

March 31, 1993 – Rachel Amendaries (Rogue) is born

Summer 1994 – Johnny’s first step-father makes Johnny (5) and his mother go to Catholic Church/Sunday School/Choir, where he meets Kerry (6)

September 8, 1995 – Yorinobu Arasaka is born

May 28, 1996 – Valerie Archier is born

March 2, 1999 – Hanako Arasaka is born

Summer 1999 – With the approval of his second step-father, Johnny (10) joins the Boy Scouts with Kerry (11)

2000-2004

January 2000 – Kerry (12) gets a guitar for his birthday, and he and Johnny (11) teach themselves how to play

Spring 2002 – Johnny (13) gets expelled from highschool due to fighting, getting caught smoking, and skipping classes; Johnny’s third step-father threatens to send him to military school

Fall 2002 – Kerry’s parents help enroll Johnny (13) in their son’s highschool

Winter 2003 – Kerry (15) and Johnny (14) are suspended and nearly expelled for a fight over a rumor stating the boys were a couple

Summer 2003 – Johnny’s mother and third stepfather are arrested and incarcerated for drug-related charges; Johnny (14) is placed in foster care, where he makes a habit of running away and sleeping on the streets

Winter 2004 – Kerry’s parents are denied the option to adopt Johnny (15) due to immigration status and insufficient income

2005-2009

Winter 2005 – Johnny (16) successfully removes himself from foster care several weeks after his 16th birthday

Summer 2005 – Johnny (16) drops out of high school and follows Kerry (17) when his parents move from Texas to Night City

Fall 2005 – Johnny (17) meets Nancy (18) through Kerry (17), and the two begin dating

Winter 2006 – Johnny (17), Nancy (19), and Kerry (18) make friends with Denny (20) and Henry (21); Samurai forms, the band plays local gigs in Night City and neighboring cities

Fall 2006 – Samurai puts out a self-produced EP (really bad, almost unlistenable)

Summer 2007 – Samurai puts out their first full-length album (actually quite decent, has better versions of the EP songs such as “New Noise”) on an indie record label

April 2008 – Johnny (19) secretly gets his GED so he can enlist in the US Military and fight in the Afghanistan War, which causes Samurai to break up and his relationship with Nancy (20) to end

November 2008 – Johnny (20) is deployed and sent to Afghanistan, where he meets Jonathan Nauman (Milt’s son)

Summer 2009 – Johnny (20) and Jonathan grow close/intimate and become a secret couple

September 2009 – A military convoy that Johnny (20) is part of runs over a landmine, and Jonathan Nauman dies while keeping Johnny alive; Johnny is medically discharged from the military

October 2009 –Johnny (20) returns to Night City, where he meets up with Jonathan’s father, Milt Nauman, a therapist

November 2009 – Johnny (21) adopts the name Johnny Silverhand from Henry because of external fixation devices on his left hand/wrist

2010-2014

April 2010 – Johnny (21) starts instigating riots in Night City against NCPD brutality (NC Homeless Riots)

August 2010 – Johnny (21), Kerry (22), and Henry (25) find out that Nancy (23) is being abused by her husband; Nancy pushes her husband out a window before the guys can do anything about it

September 2010 – Nancy (23) is tried and goes to jail for a year

Winter 2011 – Johnny (22) has regained full use of his left hand, and Nancy (24) gets out of jail; Samurai reforms and starts making more music

March 2011 – At a local show, Johnny (22) meets a fan, Rogue (18), and they begin steadily dating shortly after

Summer 2011 – Samurai self-produces another short EP (really good, has the first recording of Chippin’ In)

Fall 2011 – Johnny (22) starts using opiates to help deal with his PTSD; Rogue (19) and Johnny’s relationship gets rocky

Winter 2012 – Samurai is signed to MSM records with a three-record contract and releases their second studio album (very good, album charts and goes gold)

Spring 2012 – Johnny (23) meets Alt Cunningham (28) when she’s a model/extra for a Samurai music video; the pair begin dating off and on

Summer 2012 – Johnny (23) and Rogue (19) break up for good

April 16, 2013 – Alt Cunningham (29) dies when she and Johnny (24) are jumped after a Samurai show while they’re arguing/breaking up in an alley

May 2013 – Johnny (24) is involved in an incident at a riot that results in the immolation of an Arasaka corpo (Arthur Jenkins)

October 2014 – Due to indirect involvement and a great lawyer and psychotherapist, Johnny (25) is found not guilty of first-degree murder and is sentenced to four years (one year time served) in federal prison for other related charges

2015-2017

May 2015 – Kerry Eurodyne (27) fulfills the second album of the original MSM contract as a solo artist (super good/classic rock inspired, charts top 10 for several weeks, makes him famous)

September 2017 – Kerry Eurodyne (29) fulfills the third album of the original MSM contract as a collaboration with the Lazrpop group Us!Cracks (really fucking weird but still pretty good? But mostly sellouty on Kerry’s part)

October 2017 – Johnny (28) is released from federal prison and returns to Night City, declares he’s finished making music

2018-2023

February 2018 – Johnny (29) collaborates with a Pop artist named Violet (26), and they put out an album under MSM Records to fulfill her contract (controversial/copy-cat Kerry & Us!Cracks/bizarre but still pretty good, excellent production); The couple begin fake dating as a rouse to promote their music

February 2019 – After a year, Johnny (30) and Violet (27) “break up” as they finish promoting their album and end the world tour for said album

Summer 2019 – Samurai reforms a third time, and a new contract is drafted under MSM Records

Fall 2019 – Samurai puts out their third studio album (pretty good, not as great as their second album, but does well because of Kerry’s fanbase)

November 2019 – Johnny (31) relapses in his addiction to opiates

Winter 2022 – Samurai, under pressure from MSM, begins working on their fourth studio album, but with Johnny (33) in and out of rehab and disappearing, its slow progress

April 15, 2022 – Samurai releases the first song they’re able to complete to try and keep MSM off their asses, titled Black Dog

April 16, 2022 – Johnny (33) purposefully overdoses, and Kerry (34) saves his life

April 2022 – Johnny (33) goes to and stays in rehab, and all production on the new Samurai album is halted

July 2022 – Johnny (33) is officially sober from opiates, leaves rehab

March 12, 2023 – Bermuda Locket starts