#i shouldn't cry over legos

[edgyandoverzealous]

Show Log: Ninjago Masters of Spinjitzu Pt.2

If you don't know the drill these are my thoughts opinions and reactions during my first watch through of Ninjago Masters of Spinjitzu. I made one of these a couple of days ago and I'm back with so many more thoughts. Also spoilers, duh, for up to the episode listed below, and please no spoilers! We good? Good.

Season 2 Episode 14:

• I told you I'd riot. Grab your pitchforks my boy has lost his whimsy. I'm damn near certain at this point.

• Lloyd Garmadon loves his dad and genuinely believed that he'd break through to him, and he did, for a moment, but then his dad, who Lloyd believed to be all powerful, failed to fully break through.

•The pain in Lloyd's eyes (shut up shut up shut up, I know they're Legos) as the Overlord took control again and told Lloyd his father was gone. The way the line was delivered to be saw raw and wrong as Lloyd got overwhelmed and lost consciousness.

• The way he limped over to the shoreline immediately after waking up and how serious he's gotten. I just-- why must you torture my boy, he's just a kid.

• Give him one parent but take away another I think the fuck not. (I'm conflicted more on Lloyd's mama later) Give my boy his dad back, please.

• I think the only reason they aged Lloyd up was so that much pressure and stress wasn't portrayed on a literal elementary school aged kid. But guess what, and say it with me, 14/15 year olds are still just kids and should not be put in life changing and traumatizing scenarios.

• Additionally, destiny was talked about like a deity this episode, if "destiny" has a form as the Overlord did this episode I will give a swift kick to the groin for my boy Lloyd because what the ever loving fuck? The baby, the boy, my boy.

• Also Nya. My blorbo, my babygirl, my favorite girl. They turned her evil??? They turned her evil.

• SHE WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO DIDN'T FALL OFF THE CLIFF. Not cool. Not fucking cool.

• But she called after both Jay and Kai as they fell which is very important to me. It shows that she cares about both of them when in other media the "damsel in distress" might only call after her love interest, a lame trope imo.

• She then got kidnapped and fed pure darkness. Like what the hell? Not my Nya, not my girl. The boys are fucked, truly, they lost their girl. The one that makes them tech and upgrades their shit with better combat skills shown canonically, they're so screwed.

• I'm fairly certain she could've kicked their asses but whatever invincible soldiers with their invincibleness and Nya without any super weapons or tech.

• She said goodbye forever but istg if Jay and Kai don't rescue her and find a way to bring her back I'm gonna send a strongly worded email to Ninjago productions and explain why they single handedly ruined their show.

• Because brilliant, beautiful Nya has on multiple occasions carried the entirety of the Ninjago Masters and they would collapse without her. Additionally I believe good written women in what is primarily a show written for boys is incredibly important because it portrays women as complex and strong people which they fucking are.

• Also Jay's character writing is giving me whiplash (more on that later) but I think he's back to normal now?

• Nya got kidnapped and he lost his shit as any good boyfriend would do. They kiss but haven't put a label on it and Nya means the world to him and it shows in the show consistently. Very nice, I appreciate.

• I feel like Kai's reaction should've been a little stronger after they all fell into the sea, because him screaming Nya's name and then acting calm and rational was, ngl, kinda weird kinda suspect.

• but then again no one believes in Nya more than Kai. Kai knows his sister and that she is stronger than most of the team and smarter than most of them too.

• That being said it feels likely that he felt a need to stay strong and focused so they didn't all fall apart as well which with my interpretation forgives the initial reaction.

Season 2 episode 6 - 13:

• Lloyd's mom dropped him off as a baby to the Darkley's Boarding School for Bad Boys. As a baby. I was right. His attachment style is anxious avoidant. It's plain as day when he interacts with his mom.

• At least she's back now and supportive as she appears to love her son. Hopefully she's not evil and doesn't betray him. I don't think she is so far she's pretty motherly and seems to have a thing for Wu.

• She's a homie hopper. Likes both brothers.

• It's not cool how she said she chose the wrong brother though because Lloyd wouldn't have been born is what I got from that, my own mommy issues peeking through I presume. But Lloyd is such a good boy, legitimately, so he deserves appreciation.

• Also I'm pretty sure Lloyd doesn't get what's going on between Wu and his mom because when he asked her "So how'd you meet him" she replied with "Who, Wu?" And he went "what? no. My dad.😐"

• This proves, to me, that his mind is not at a teenager level of development yet as his body is. That or he has no exposure to romantic situations and therefore doesn't know the social cues. Yet again, my boy didn't deserve this and also he's just like me fr fr?

•Zane's dad is alive!!! Woohoo!! And he's adorable an adorable inventor.

• And the sanest insane person I have ever seen. I mean mans went I'm not a fighter and then proceeded to fly the blimp into Garmadon's face. I love him.

• Also his story reminds me of the Greek myth of Icarus and Icarus' dad. Because he was locked in a tower gaurded by a monster and told to invent in order to see his son again.

• I am in love with Zane's dad. Literally like 💍🧎

• He's so, y'know smart and loving and shit. He's also ambitious, patient and slightly insane so my type.

• If there are more parallels I'll cry. *death glaring at Zane* please don't fly too close to the sun I will be annihilated on spot.

• Cole is so comfortable with his dancing now, not him moonwalking and singing over enemies after he got his weapon back he's so silly.

•Just a little guy who likes to sing, dance, and beat up bad guys.

• Why did they turn Jay's idiot meter up so high?

• Like my mans was fully just dumb dumb baby there for a bit there. "I don't pack clean undies. Like my mommy advices cause real men only wear one :P."

• Like bbg. No. Nya deserves better, you have to keep using that brain you goofy goober, you can't just lose you braincells because she likes you---- *sudden self-realization* oh no...

• Additionally his cowardice seems to be heightened. Which understandable the boys are going through the wringer in terms of stressful situations. Which once again say it with me, teenagers are still kids, and you should not chuck them into dangerous, traumatizing, experiences. You will cause psychological issues for the rest of their lives. Woo.

• Also Jay's parents are so real for telling him he's not allowed to save Ninjago unless he eats his veggies. 🫡🫡🫡

• god this is unhinged and I sound like a 27 year old dad, I'm 18 wtf?

• Nya my beloved builds so much cool surprises and shit and Jay is always so pumped for them <333 I love them.

[angel5ofp0rn]

♡ part eight ♡

ExHusband!Price x f!reader

just a short lil chapter 🤭

John didn’t sleep at all.

Still, when the morning sun started to peek through the blinds, he got up from the couch and made his way to the kitchen.

He couldn’t eat, but he knew he had to make sure you and the kids did.

After making eggs, bacon and toast, John sets the table and then heads upstairs to his your oldest child’s bedroom to wake him.

The sight of you sleeping in the twin bed with both children snuggled up to you made his heart ache.

Your tear-streaked cheeks and their blissfully unaware sleeping faces made John want to cry.

You woke slowly, rubbing your puffy eyes and lifting your head to see John in the doorway. You sigh.

“I, erm... Breakfast." John spoke softly. You nod, slowly rubbing your oldest’s back to wake him, telling him to get ready for school before he eats.

John watches for a moment as your oldest sleepily trudges to the washroom.

You scoop your sleepy youngest child up and walk past John, going downstairs to the kitchen without a word to him.

John knows there’s no point in trying to smooth things over just yet. Instead, he decides to get a shower in while you and the kids have breakfast together. Without him.

You try to smile and be happy around the kids, not wanting them to sense the tension between you and their father right now.

They seem to be oblivious to it all, thankfully.

As you playfully ruffle your oldest’s brown hair as he eats, you can't help but wonder if John's other son looks like him.

Like both of them.

Your children look just like John; surely his other child does too…

John joins the three of you in the kitchen after a while, but he doesn’t say anything to you. He doesn’t even look at you.

“Could you walk Gabe to the bus stop? It’ll be here in 5.” You ask suddenly, finally catching his eyes.

“Of course.” John nods curtly, taking the little green backpack from the back of one of the chairs. As he walks with your oldest, you send your youngest off to the playroom so you can chat with John privately.

You meet him by the front door, arms crossed, almost hugging yourself for comfort.

“What’re their names?” You ask bluntly.

John is caught a little off guard by your question, not expecting you to ask about his other family right now. He wasn’t expecting anything other than you kicking him out, really.

He studies your eyes for a moment, then nods as he responds.

"My son's name is Theo. His mother's name is Nadia."

You exhale a breath you didn't realize you were holding. The way he says “my son” so naturally makes your stomach drop.

"Show me a picture of him." Your voice is shaky.

"Of Theo?" John asks, surprised. At your nod, he takes his phone out of his pocket, finds a photo and hands his phone to you.

Your eyes study the photo of a ten year old holding up a lego creation that he presumably built himself.

He looked exactly how you pictured him to look; John’s brown hair, John’s blue eyes, John’s freckled nose.

You start to cry again.

John notices you crying, immediately wanting to be there to comfort you but he knows that he shouldn't make a move now, not when things are so tense between both of you. He stays put where he is, just watching you cry for a few moments before speaking."Is.... Is there anything else you want to know? I’ll tell you everything, love.”

"Do they know about us?” You ask, handing him his phone back with a sniffle. “About me, the kids...?”

John pauses for a moment before he responds. He feels like he needs to be honest with you about this; he's kept so much hidden for the last six years, but he doesn't want to keep anything else from you.

That being said, he knew his next few words might hurt to hear.

“They do… I show Theo photos of the kids every time I see ‘im.”

You wipe your eyes with your sleeve. "So you could tell them but not us?”

John has no words, no way to defend himself in this situation. There was no excuse for it either, he knew that. He just takes a breath in and out, then stays silent as he simply nods.

You sigh.

"What was your plan, John?" You wiped more tears. “To just keep both of your families from each other for the rest of your life?"

"No." John answers, his tone soft but clear. "I- I’ve always wanted to tell you. I just couldn't stand the thought of you hurting... I didn't want to lose you."

"And then you did lose me. And you still didn't say a fucking word."

John's expression was full of regret, but he knows that he can't change the past, no matter how much he wishes he could.

"I know that. I just- Christ, I don't want to lose you again. I couldn't have just let us get back together without solving the issue that ripped us apart on the first place, love. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself.”

You didn't speak. You couldn't.

John sighs, rubbing his face and shaking his head slightly. "I'm sorry..." That's all he says because right now he feels as though any other words would hurt more than they would help. He wanted to speak, to say more, but he just couldn't bring himself to.

'..l want to meet them." You finally look up at him, meeting his eyes.

"... You want to meet them..?" John asks back in a soft, shaky voice. He can't help but be a little shocked by your response.

Maybe it's because he expected that you would ask him to never see his family ever again, or to never see you and your children ever again…

"The kids, too. Gabriel and Linnie have a big brother; I want them to know him."

John studies your face as if he’s waiting for you to retract your request.

"Gabriel's spring break is in two months. You're taking us to the London and we're meeting them." You don't ask, you’re telling him.

"Alright... I said I’d do anything and I meant it." John nods as a small look of relief crosses his face. He thinks about speaking again, but decides against it, as he just takes a small breath in and out.

"I should probably get some work done." You glance at the clock on the wall.

He nods. "I'll… see you after work, then...?"

“I’m just gonna be upstairs in my office.” You explain. You can practically see the gears turning in his head.

You’re not kicking him out.

“Lovey, what’re you saying?”

“You’ll be sleeping on the couch until further notice.” You continue. “And… you’ll be making breakfast every morning from now on." Your lips twitch into the tiniest smirk.

"Oh?" John smiles a tiny bit as well. "I... I can do that. I’ll do anything- everything.” John pulls you into a hug.

"I’ve gotta get to work.” You gently push him off of you with a small chuckle. “Go check on Linnie.”

You wanted to keep being mad at him, but you couldn’t... He knew what he had to do in order to fix your relationship, and he's doing it.

He has you. Fuck, does he have you.

<< prev next >>

[darkbluekies]

Own you

God!yandere x y/n

Summary: you try to run away from a God, but underestimate his power

Warnings: blood, mentions of needles and knives

Word count : 0.6k

[before we start, I want to say that this god has nothing to do with any religion, it's my own creation and only for fun! It is not meant to offend anyone♡]

How could you ever think that you could escape? Don't you know that he knows everything, sees everything? Your human legs carry you the quickest they can throughout the forest. You have no idea where you are or how you got here, but you knoe he has something to do with it. You remember being in his weird palace and opening a door and ... suddenly ending up here. Wherever this is.

You're barefoot. The ground hits you like lego under your feet. The strong wind tries pulling you back to him, but you refuse to succumb. You have to keep on going.

The wind starts going two ways, capturing you in the middle. Your hair flows around your face and vocers your vision. But you can't give up. You can't submit.

Snow starts falling from the cloudy sky. It's summer, it shouldn't snow. You know it's all his work. And it's a clever one this time. Knowing your clothes are way too thin to keep you warm in a blazing snowstorm keeps you from running. You close your arms around you and continue walking. The icy snowflakes clash against your bare skin like knives and needles. It's not a friendly snowstorm he's unleashed upon you. You want to scream in pain, but if you do, you'll get the sharp snowflakes in your mouth and risk cutting your throat.

After a few minutes of walking, you sink down on your knees in the snow. Your legs can't carry you anymore. Sobbing erupts from your throat. Your tears freeze on your cheeks. You look down and notice how your skin has gotten marks after the harsh snoflakes. What were they made of? Glass shards?

"Please stop!" you shout. "It hurts!"

You lay down with your face down and arms over your head to protect your eyes. You can't move anymore. It hurts too much and your body is too cold and weak. All you can do is cry in pain.

"Learned your lesson?"

You peak up and see the godly figure standing in the middle of the storm. He looks down at you, golden eyes scanning you. He kneels down and places his warm hand on your cheek, melting the frozen tears. You lift your cold, trembling hands and place them on his chest, needing warmth. He can regulate his body temperature to whatever you need. You can no longer feel your body.

He removes your hands. You try to protest, but nothing comes out of your mouth. It's like your voice has frozen too.

"You don't deserve my warmth until you've begged for forgivness and promise to never leave me again", the god says. "Do it."

"I-I'm sorry", you stutter and reach out for him again. "I'll n-never do it a-again!"

He tilts his hands and pick off a frozen tear from your cheek. he studis it and scoffs.

"How could you ever think that you could run away from me, human?" he asks. "I know everything there is to know. You didn't think I'd know where you were? You didn't think I'd find you? You belong to me, human and no one can keep you from me. I own this world and everything in it. I own you."

You start to lose your hearing. The god hugs you and lets you look for warmth in his arms. The snowstorm arounds you start to disappear and the summer warmth seeps back.

"Darling, look", the god whispers and nods up at the sky.

You look up and see a rainbow dancing across the blue sky. You can't help but gulp in adoration.

"I made it just for you", the man continues and kisses your temple. "I can give you everything. I can give you the stars. Literally. I will give you everything as long as you stay with me and never try this again. Now, let's go home, dearest. You need to rest."

[chronicowboy]

It's a couple of months after his breakdown when Eddie comes home from therapy to a suspiciously quiet house. Luckily, he and Frank had spent the session working on his anxiety, so he takes a deep breath and begins listing all the things Buck and Christopher could be doing as he goes in search for them.

They could be asleep on the couch, it wouldn't be the first time the early birds had crashed midday from fun, but Eddie finds the couch empty as soon as the thought forms. They could be doing homework at the table, drawing more hearts or puzzling over algebra equations, but the table is empty of its usual clutter. They could be eating in the kitchen, unlikely as neither of them have ever let mouths full of food stop them from chattering away, and he's proven right at a barren kitchen.

The panic rises and crests in his chest like a wave, but he takes another deep breath, reminds himself that the safest place in the world for Christopher is Buck's side.

They could be in the yard tending to their little vegetable garden, but Eddie peeks out to lonely tomato plants swaying in the gentle summer breeze. They could be rearranging Christopher's room again, possibly side-tracked by Christopher's old drawings or Lego creations, but the room is exactly as he'd left it this morning.

Its when Eddie presses his forehead into the doorframe to ground himself that he hears it. A sniffle coming from beyond the cracked bathroom door.

"Okay, buddy," that's Buck's voice, soft and unendingly gentle in a way that makes something behind Eddie's sternum pulse and ache. Eddie drifts towards it, helpless to resist the pull.

"Are you sure we shouldn't wait for dad?" Chris asks, voice a little shaky however it is when he's just finished crying. The wave of panic crests again, but Eddie nudges the door open and the wave collapses into foam.

Christopher is perched on the closed toilet, both legs of his jeans rolled up to above his scraped knees, eyes wide and trusting despite his words. And Buck. Buck is crouched in front of him with the first aid kit open at his feet and an expression so tender it takes Eddie's breath away.

"We can, if you want," Buck concedes, trying and failing to conceal just the slightest bit of hurt. Eddie sees it as he sees the guilt lining the tense line of Buck's shoulders, as he sees the anguish swimming in Buck's own teary eyes. "But I specialise in scratches." He grins, wide and way too bright for the fluorescent lights of the bathroom to compete. He lowers his voice, winks, "its all Hen and Chim trust me with on the job."

Christopher's hiccupping giggle is the best sound Eddie has ever heard. And, judging by the way Buck looks up at Chris like the sound fell from heaven, he agrees. Eddie couldn't tear his eyes away if he wanted to. Not with the way Buck looks kneeling in front of his son, like this is some sort of worship and penance all at once, eyes softer than Eddie has ever seen them.

"Okay, superman," Buck cups the back of Christopher's shin with hands so big his fingers could meet around his leg, with hands so gentle Eddie has the fleeting desire to feel them on himself. "Doesn't look like there's anything in there, but I'm gonna pour a bit of water over them first to wash anything away. Does that sound okay?"

"Yeah," Chris nods solemnly, and Buck smiles up at him as he reaches for the cup on the sink.

Carefully, Buck pours a cup of water over both scrapes, stopping every time Chris so much as twitches, and Eddie aches. He dries them off with a clean towel, gentler still than Eddie knew a human of Buck's size could be, then reaches for the alcohol-free wipes.

"Okay, I'm gonna make sure they're super clean," Buck murmurs, side-profile illuminated by the afternoon light cutting through the bathroom window, angelic and divine. Eddie has the insane urge to pull his phone out and capture the moment forever. "It might be a little sore, so just tell me if you need to stop." Chris nods again, and Buck uses his free hand to grab Christopher's and drop it onto his curls. "Squeeze as tight as you like, and, if I'm too rough, give me a tug in revenge."

Eddie can't decide which is more beautiful: Christopher's laugh or the smile it provokes in Buck. Both of them are bright and joyful things that make Eddie want to fall to his knees in his own kind of worship. He watches as Buck starts wiping away at the scratches, slow and soft and oh so tender it hurts Eddie himself. Chris waits patiently, bravely until Buck drops one wipe and then tugs on his hair.

"Ow!" Buck yelps, pouting up at Christopher who shakes with silent laughter. "What was that for?" When the only answer is a bubbling laugh, Buck's face twitches into a grin like he just can't help it. Eddie understands, doesn't think there's anything more contagious than Buck and Christopher's joy. "Knee number two, no tugging please, sir." And Eddie thinks that some people might forget to be so gentle after that, but Buck only gets more so.

He drops the wipes into the trash before grabbing a gauze pad and pressing it to Christopher's knee. He waits for a beat or two, undoubtedly watching for blood that might soak through even though the wipes came away mostly clean. Buck tapes the edges down and then moves onto the second knee.

And, look, Eddie knows Buck is a first responder, has seen and treated worse than this on a daily basis, but the ease with which he treats Christopher makes Eddie's stomach clench. Especially, when Buck absently rubs his thumbs over the skin of Christopher's legs like its as natural as breathing.

"Almost done," Buck whispers before leaning down to leave a big, smacking kiss on each bandage. Eddie aches. "There we go, now they'll heal faster and you can go back to being superman in no time."

"Thanks, Buck." Chris leans forward for a hug, and Buck catches him effortlessly.

Eddie watches the guilt creep into Buck's expression as he squeezes his eyes shut and turns his face into Christopher's hair. When Buck takes a deep breath, Eddie copies him and tries not to get too flustered when Buck's worried eyes flutter open and land on him. A few months ago, Eddie would've shuttered, would have wiped his face clean of the dizzyingly intense array of emotions on display. But now, Eddie lets Buck see, lets him see that he's not in trouble, that Eddie is so grateful for him it hurts, lets him see the admiration and the softness, lets him see the overwhelming love Eddie feels for him right then and there, always and anywhere.

Buck lets Eddie see it all too.

[rickie-the-storyteller]

Writing Share Tag

Thank you to @kaylinalexanderbooks for tagging me!

Rules: Post some writing.

Recently added more to the childhood flashback in Untitled Teen Romcom. I'll post what I've got here:

Miss Jackson found me by the coat pegs, which only added to my embarrassment…but it turned out alright in the end. Here’s how it went down. So, after what felt like an eternity of uncontrollable sobbing, I heard her approaching footsteps. I tried to compose myself, wiping the tears and snot from my face with my sleeve. But it was too late.

“Ezekiel? What's the matter?” she asked, her warm voice laced with concern as she crouched down beside me.

I just shook my head, too embarrassed to speak. Miss Jackson pulled me into a gentle hug, letting me cry into her shoulder for a few moments before pulling back.

“Did something happen during lunchtime?” she prodded gently.

I nodded, the humiliation washing over me again. “I...I asked Hope Kamani to marry me,” I choked out between sniffles. “I just wanted to tell her that I liked her. But she just laughed at me in front of everyone! They all laughed!”

Miss Jackson's eyes widened briefly before her expression softened. “Oh Ezekiel, I'm so sorry that happened to you. She shouldn't have reacted that way, but I promise it will get better.”

“No it won't!” I cried petulantly. “She hates me! She probably thinks I'm a stupid baby.”

“You are not stupid or a baby,” Miss Jackson said firmly. “You are one of the brightest, kindest boys I know. And if others like Hope can't see that, then that's their loss.”

Hearing this made me smile. I don’t know if her words fully convinced me, but they did touch my heart. I guess I just appreciated her trying to make me feel better. To this day, this comment from Miss Jackson stuck with me for this specific reason. I think people just like knowing that they are cared for and that they aren’t alone. 

After lunch was done, and everyone in our class started to head back inside, Sebastian caught up with me. 

"Zeke!” he called, rushing towards me. I noticed that his usual smile was replaced with a look of genuine concern.

I tried to smile back, although it probably wasn’t all that convincing (my eyes were still filling up with fresh tears, after all). “Hey, Seb.”

“There you are, mate. Are you okay?”

I shook my head dismally. Seb sighed, and put his arm around my shoulders as we headed away from my little hiding place at the coat pegs. Once settled on the reading rug, he grabbed a bucket of LEGOs, pouring a ton of the colourful plastic bricks on the floor in front of us. 

“Don't worry about Hope, Zeke,” he said definitively. “We're gonna spend the rest of the day building the sickest spaceships and you’re going to forget all about her!”

I snorted. “Who needs a wife when you have a LEGO spaceship?”

“Exactly! You get it.”

As we started constructing our LEGO creations, I slowly felt the sting of rejection and embarrassment start to dull. With Miss Jackson's reassurance and my best friend by my side, the afternoon didn't seem quite so bleak anymore. Maybe one day the whole fiasco would be something we could laugh about - but for now, I was content just trying to lose myself in the uncomplicated joys of childhood alongside Sebastian. Women would forever remain a mystery, but at least I had my LEGOs. And Seb.

I tried my best to push Hope and her hurtful laughter from my mind, and focus on my building. It worked for a while, but then we got interrupted by Eshe.

“There you are!” she exclaimed, rushing over to us. “I've been looking everywhere for you two.”

Sebastian barely looked up from the impressive spaceship he was constructing. “We're right here, Eshe. As you can see.”

She rolled her eyes at his nonchalance. “Well duh, I can see that now. But I didn't know where you both ran off to after...you know.” Her eyes flickered over to me hesitantly.

My cheeks burned at the reminder of my humiliation. But then another awful thought slipped into my mind… I suddenly remembered with a sinking feeling that Eshe was one of Hope's closest friends. Of course, she was going to take her side and not mine. Of course! 

“What do you want, Eshe?” I asked, unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

She seemed to sense my hostility and raised her hands defensively. “Easy, tiger. I come in peace.” She plopped down gracefully beside us, sweeping her pigtails over her shoulder. I had to admit, despite her annoying bossy attitude, Eshe always looked impeccably put together thanks to her tireless efforts at reinventing her appearance. Today's ensemble featured our school’s summer uniform (a green and white chequered dress for the girls, if I recall correctly), a grey cardigan, pigtails adorned with bright pink bows, and her favourite shiny black mary janes. Classic Eshe.

“Look,” she began, turning her big brown eyes on me earnestly. “I just wanted to say I'm really sorry about what happened at lunch. With Hope, I mean.”

I shrugged one shoulder sulkily, keeping my eyes trained on the LEGO tower I was half-heartedly assembling (since I’m pretty sure I had given up on building a spaceship at this point. I wasn’t as good with LEGO as Seb was back then).

“Hope totally overreacted,” Eshe continued. “I prepped her all morning like you asked, making sure her hair looked perfect and everything.” 

“I never asked you to do that, Eshe,” I said, still refusing to look in her general direction. “Your job was to distract her so she didn’t find out about it. That’s all.”

“Whatever, Zeke. You have to understand, though, she's just...not great with feelings and emotional stuff,” she explained. “She handles it badly sometimes.”

“That's no excuse to be so mean!” I burst out, finally meeting Eshe's gaze fiercely. “What's so funny about what I said to her? Why did she have to laugh at me like that?”

Eshe patted my arm consolingly. “You're absolutely right, it wasn't funny at all. Hope was way out of line. I already told her off about it, and she does feel bad now. Give her a chance to apologise later, yeah?”

I highly doubted the great Hope Kamani would lower herself to apologise to a loser like me. I opened my mouth to say as much, but Sebastian cut me off.

“Just leave it, Eshe. Thanks for the apology, but Zeke doesn't need any more Hope crap today.”

He shot her a rare scathing look. I couldn't help but feel a swell of gratitude toward my best friend for sticking up for me against one of Hope's formidable girl squad.

Eshe looked mildly taken aback by Sebastian's uncharacteristic sharpness, but recovered quickly with a resigned shrug. "Suit yourselves, I guess. I'll let Hope know you both need space."

With that, she rose gracefully and flounced off to the other side of the room, where the costume cupboard was (where Hope and her other friends always liked playing together. Eshe’s favourite costume there was the yellow Beauty and the Beast dress… she was a huge Belle fan growing up). It’s, leaving an awkward silence in her wake. Seb was the first to break it.

“Can you believe that one?” he muttered, shaking his head. “She acts like Hope's the queen and we should all be grateful for her laying down the law.”

I snorted derisively. “I know, right? That whole crew has gotten way too big for their boots if you ask me.”

Hope had an extensive entourage. Here was her inner circle during primary school:

Eshe Brown (duh)

Tanaka Okada - effortlessly cool Japanese girl who always looks like she'd just stepped out of a photo shoot (she doesn't go to our secondary school, but she and Hope are still friends and they hang out to this day. So I've seen her around, and she's also active on social media. And let me tell you - she hasn't changed a bit. Make of that what you will)

Layla Abbas - wealthy Lebanese chick whose family owned this online store where you could get these really nice, spacious backpacks (other stuff, too, but I mainly go there for the backpacks. Unlike Tanaka, Layla moved to the same secondary school as us, so I see her much more often. She too has a really trendy and really pricy taste in fashion, often rocking the latest designer clothes)

Indy Sandhu - probably the most uniquely stylish of the bunch with her edgy mix of vintage and modern looks (Jacob also had a huge crush on her in Year 4. Which I totally get! She's cool. I think I like her style most. She too is in our secondary school)

They all seemed to revolve around Hope, gobbling up her undivided attention and approval like it was oxygen. It was baffling to me how a group of girls who were all so cool and stylish in their own right seemed to defer to Hope as the shining example to emulate. Not that I could pretend to understand the mind of a female at this point. Most of the boys in our class steered well clear of that crew, content to steer clear of the dramas and complexities of the girl world. Let them do their thing, while we did ours. As long as Hope's clique kept their silliness contained, we were more than happy to leave them to it. Still, I couldn't resist a derisive snort as I pictured the five of them strutting around the playground, heads held high, strutting like they were on a catwalk. The unwavering confidence, the addiction to attention and obsession with their appearances, the mind-boggling ability to make even 5-year-old boys feel small and inadequate – it was all so bewildering and, frankly, exhausting. I couldn’t stand any of them.

“I don't get what the big deal is about that whole group,” I groused to Sebastian. “They just seem like a bunch of meanies to me.”

Seb considered this for a moment before responding. “I mean, you're not wrong, mate. But you also can't deny that Hope and her girl squad have, like...I dunno...an inexplicable cool factor going on.”

I pulled a face, not enjoying the reminder that even my best friend was somewhat in awe of Hope's powerful effect. He must have noticed my scepticism, because he was quick to continue.

“Don't get me wrong, Hope was way out of line at lunch. And you're probably right that the rest of them are just as bad. But you can't deny there's just something...magnetic about them? Like a group of really attractive baby swans that you can't tear your eyes away from, even though you know they'll probably bite your head off if you get too close to them.”

I rolled my eyes at the bizarre analogy, but I had to grudgingly admit there was a hint of truth to what he was saying. For whatever reason, Hope and her crew just seemed to command a certain gravity that drew others in helplessly, even when they were nasty pieces of work.

As I mulled this over, Miss Jackson reappeared carrying a stack of our favourite books. Sebastian and I exchanged a look, a silent agreement to shake off the matter of Hope and her lackeys for now. We could ponder the mystifying forces of femininity another time. For the rest of the afternoon, I allowed myself to become immersed in the simple worlds within those book pages, surrounded by the easy camaraderie of reading with my best friend and favourite teacher (at the time). If I couldn't quite rid my mind of Hope completely, at least I was able to stuff her into a tiny box and tuck her away in the recesses of my brain for now at least.

Unfortunately, this didn’t last too long. By the time my mum had come to take me home, I was all upset again. I don’t know what it was… Maybe it was because I knew I had to face her again the next day. Maybe it was because it had been a few hours since the rejection had happened, and the realisation of what had happened was starting to sink in. Maybe it was the fact that she got out of this situation all fine and dandy while here I was in complete and utter despair (my gosh, I was so dramatic back then). I mean, she’s still popular and beloved by everyone, while I went from being an awkward but well liked guy in our class to a total laughing stock. All because of her.

I was just silently stewing on all of this during the ride home. My poor mother must have been so worried… I mean, I’m never quiet in the car. Back then, I was rarely quiet period. Like I said before, 5-year-old Zeke did everything loudly. Unless I was mad, apparently.

“Hey, sweetie,” my mum said gently, breaking the silence as she started the car and started the journey home. “How was school today?”

I sighed heavily, unsure of how to respond. Should I tell her about what happened with Hope? Would she even understand, or would she just brush it off as childish drama as she so frequently did with my problems back then? 

“It was okay, Mummy,” I muttered finally, opting for a vague answer.

My mum glanced over at me, concern etched into her features. “You seem a bit down, Zeke. Is everything alright?”

“Nothing happened. I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine, darling.”

“I don’t want to talk about it, Mummy.”

“So something did happen, then.”

Oops.

“No!”

“What’s going on, Zeke?” Mum asked. “Was somebody mean to you?”

I felt like crying again. I didn’t, though - all I said was, “I said that I don’t want to talk about it!”

“Honey, why not? You know you can tell Mummy anything.”

Not even the slightest bit true, not then or even now, but OK, Mum (look, I love my mum a lot, OK? Don’t get me wrong. But there are a vast list of things I would never even think of saying to her that I would say to other people. Parental relationships are different from friendships, and there are things I would share with my friends that I wouldn’t really want to share with family. And vice versa. But maybe that’s just me). I stayed mute for a while, chewing my trembling lip hard enough to draw blood as the cruel memory replayed on a torturous loop in my mind. For a moment, I almost wanted to say something. But at the very last second, I decided against it.

“I just want some peace and quiet right now, Mummy,” I eventually mumbled. “Can we just not talk until we get home?”

“Okay, sweetie,” my mum replied, her tone gentle but concerned. She reached over and squeezed my hand briefly before returning her focus to the road. For the rest of the drive, there was no more sound but the humming of the car as it moved through familiar roads and streets.

All the while, all I did was replay the whole thing in my mind. The sheer mortification of having my heartfelt proposal so utterly rejected by Hope in front of the entire class. Her mocking laughter slicing through me like shards of broken glass. The pain. The shame. The humiliation. All of it was stirring inside me, curdling into rage.

At that moment, with angry tears beginning to sting my eyes again, I decided that if she was going to be mean to me, then I'd be mean right back. See how she likes it. So I did the only thing a hurt 5-year-old kid could think of - I started a nasty rumour about her as payback.

Childish, I know. But in my defence, I was a child.

The next morning, I knew exactly what to do. I woke up with a sense of purpose for the first time in my entire life, probably. I was eager - nay, determined - to show Hope her place… but once I got into class, I could barely look at Hope without feeling that searing humiliation all over again. I tried my best to avoid her at first, sticking close to Sebastian and the other boys during morning drop-off.

“You alright, mate?” Seb asked, no doubt picking up on my sullen mood.

I shook my head mutely, not trusting myself to speak without my voice cracking. The hurt was still so fresh and raw. Which kind of made me mad… why are my stupid feelings getting in the way of my mission?

Jacob, ever the instigator, piped up. “What's wrong, Zeke? Still thinking about yesterday’s adventures with the wicked witch?”

A few of the other boys sniggered at his not-so-subtle nickname for Hope. I managed a small smile, grateful for Jake’s attempt at lightening the mood.

“It’s not fair that she gets to laugh at me and humiliate me like she did yesterday and get away with it,” I grumbled.

“Oh, you know what we should do?” Jacob piped up again. “Prank her! Let’s put a bucket of slime over the door for when she walks in," Jacob continued with a mischievous grin. "That'll teach her!”

We laughed at that one, too. Realistically, though, it wasn’t the best idea. I mean, what if someone else got soaked in the slime instead of her? I didn’t want to risk harming some innocent individual or getting myself in serious trouble. All I want is for Hope to be embarrassed.

“I have a better idea. You know what we’re going to do?”

“What?” Seb asked.

A devilish grin spread across my face. “We're going to spread a rumour that Hope doesn't shower!”

Silence for a second. Then, Jacob burst out laughing at me (damn, Jake. I thought we were friends, man). “Lame!” he cried out (I mean… I guess he wasn’t wrong).

Seb seemed conflicted on the matter. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, mate,” he muttered. 

“Sure it is!” I exclaimed. “She'll be stinky and gross and no one will want to play with her! It’s the perfect plan.”

“I mean, what good will that do?” Seb asked. “Hope is just a kid like us. And Eshe said that she felt bad about it, right? Seems kind of mean to me…”

I was having none of that today. “So?! She humiliated me and broke my heart! This is what she deserves.”

Seb sighed. “Well, when you put it like that…”

“Right. I’m glad you agree. So here’s the plan…”

I had mulled over this plan all of last evening. I had every detail down and I was prepared to share it with the boys. Once I was done, Sebastian still looked unsure, but the thought of retaliating against Hope's cruelty quickly won the rest of the bros over. By midday, the “Hope doesn't shower” rumour was spreading like wildfire through our reception class, thanks to me and the boys. Everything worked out perfectly.

It was perfect… at least, I thought it was. Anytime she walked by, I could hear the hushed giggles and whispers.

“Ew, you smell that?”

“It's probably just Hope again.”

“Gross! She seriously needs to start using soap…”

At first, I felt a rush of vindictive satisfaction watching her beloved popularity get torn down. This was the retribution she deserved after publicly humiliating me the way she did. 

But then I started to feel...weird about it. Like, a part of me felt kind of bad. Which was ridiculous - she had this coming, right? She broke my heart into a million pieces and laughed in my face. So why was I feeling even an ounce of regret about giving her a taste of her own medicine?

I tried to shake it off as I spotted Hope across the room, wearing a confused frown as a group of girls not-so-subtly pinched their noses and turned away from her. Instead of laughing at her misfortune like I thought I would, my stomach twisted uncomfortably.

This is what you wanted, isn't it Zeke? I scolded myself sternly. Don't go feeling sorry for the mean girl now!

But the guilt persisted, gnawing away at me. Until finally, I overheard an interaction that instantly made me feel better about the whole thing:

“Ugh, did someone like… not shower this morning?” Layla Abbas' imperious voice rang out loud and clear.

Hope's eyes widened in distress. “What?! No, I definitely showered, I’m super hygienic!”

“Are you sure?” Tanaka chimed in with a look of poorly concealed disgust. “Because no offence, but you kind of stink.”

“I don't stink! I shower every night before bed,” Hope insisted, her bottom lip trembling as a flush crept up her cheeks. “I even put on Mummy’s perfume and everything!"

The other girls all shared looks and shrugged, clearly not believing her protestations of cleanliness. With that, they got up and flounced off, leaving Hope behind looking utterly bewildered and embarrassed.

I couldn't help it - I let out a huge bark of laughter at the sight. Okay, this was definitely what she deserved! Any lingering feelings of regret instantly dissipated. Say what you want about Hope’s girl squad, but they have the most fire insults.

Take that, Hope! I thought triumphantly. See how it feels to be the one getting laughed at for once?

Of course, my loud laughter drew her attention immediately. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously as they landed on me.

“EZEKIEL COLEMAN!” She marched right over, her little hands planted firmly on her hips. “Did you have something to do with this?”

I blinked innocently up at her. “With what?”

"Don't play dumb!" She snapped. “This is your doing, isn’t it? You're the one behind this stupid rumour about me not showering!”

I smirked, not even bothering to deny it at this point. “So what if I am? You had it coming after yesterday.”

Her eyes widened, seemingly stunned that I was admitting to it so brazenly. “I...I can't believe you!” She sputtered. “That's so mean!”

“Oh, you mean like how you laughed at and humiliated me in front of everyone yesterday?” I countered, getting to my feet so I could look her square in the eye. “What you did to me was way meaner!”

“Th-That's different!” Hope protested, though the words lacked conviction. I think she could see the holes in her logic.

“Whatever, Kamani,” I said with an eyeroll, turning away from her dismissively. “Deal with it. It's just a stupid rumour anyway.”

“You’re seriously doing this because you’re mad that I laughed at your stupid proposal?!”

“It wasn’t stupid, Hope,” I replied, voice cracking a bit despite my best efforts to sound all put together (Kamani had that effect on me back then. I’ve mostly grown out of that too, thank God). “I put a lot of thought and time into it, just to be laughed at and humiliated by you and everyone else in the class.”

“I thought you were messing around!” Hope protested. “I seriously thought you were trying to be like one of those bachelor guys on TV, acting all mushy and all. I thought you were playing, I didn’t think you were being for real!”

At that point, I was like, no way! You know about the bachelor shows on the telly too?! Maybe she watches with her mum as well. That’s something we have in common!

Just to be clear, I was thinking that... I didn't say any of that out loud.

But thinking about it now, it’s all so interesting to me how much I didn’t see back then that I do now. She laughed at me because she thought I was kidding. Huh. Assuming that this is all true, maybe Eshe was right about Hope genuinely feeling bad and not being good at handling emotional stuff… Either way, I had found a connection. Something to bridge the gap. I almost began to feel bad again. Almost. 

“Well, there’s nothing I can do about it now,” I simply said.

“Really?! That’s it?”

I shrugged. What did she want me to do? Apologise? I’m not THAT sorry. Plus, she didn’t apologise to me, so…

I could practically feel the waves of anger radiating off her. Her next words were practically a snarl: “You're going to be sorry for this, Ezekiel. I’m telling on you.”

With that, she stomped off in the direction of our teacher's desk, looking every bit the disgruntled five-year-old she was at that moment. I just laughed again, feeling utterly free of the guilt and conflict that had plagued me earlier. As far as I was concerned, Hope Kamani absolutely deserved everything she was getting. I didn't care if it made me look like the bad guy… she started it.

END OF EXCERPT.

This is even longer than the last one... sorry if that's annoying lol. I just really like the flashbacks. I like writing these characters as young children. It's cool to see how much they've grown in the present tense (as well as how much they haven't really changed at all lol).

Tagging: @ibuprofen-exe, @jay-avian, @mysticstarlightduck, @jay-avian, @winterandwords,

@space-writes, @bookish-karina, @clairelsonao3, @theeccentricraven and @sam-glade

[pinkiepartypopper]

「 INTRODUCTION 」

Name's Jimmy. I'm the new Host of this Blog.

Any pronouns, I don't give a shit.

We are a diagnosed System with mixed Origins.

I'm a Factive, sorry not sorry for my existence. I am NOT the fucking real Guy. I'm myself. Don't compare me.

English/German/Dutch

On Discord we're called just like here "pinkpartypopper" hmu

I'm mean, don't cry. I warned you.

PROFICTION. Hating to refer to myself as this because I just exist, but it's just what I am according to definition.

Pro Art Freedom.

Anti-Censorship/Anti-Harrassment/Ship and Let Ship

Inform yourself about what the fuck Anti-Harassment means before you go cry about it.

If you call me a Pedophile, you're not better as the people that say "That's so Autistic of me". It's a Mental Illness. Don't throw it around like an Insult or a Vibe.

Be against the Abuse, not the Disorder.

You don't fucking know if I am diagnosed with it or not. I am not. And my diagnosis shouldn't be your fucking Business, unless I trust you and tell you.

We are a Psychology Student btw.

I repost alot, I engage in lots of fucking Discourse (If you don't wanna see it, leaveee︎︎♡)

DNI-(Do not Interact) if:

You are fucking judgemental, mean, rude or just outright an awful person. No harassment. Come at me for some bullshit and I will block.

DNF if you are under 18 !!!

If you are and I follow you, sorry. Block me!!! I made this Account recently 18+ because I am now, so Minors shouldn't be here.

I block freely

So if I don't like you, you just get blocked for no other reason. Nothing Personal or.. yeah. Personal.

I encourage you to do the same if you cannot fucking handle me.

——————————————————————

Rosi's stuff is under here. Too fucking lazy to transfer it to the other Blog.

↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓

If things are tagged on this account with #thanks man i love you , it was Rosi answering on their loved ones.

You looking for the Rosi's Selfship Blog? Click this fucking Text! She's gonna post her stuff there.

Interests of Rosi:

I am Multifandom so I only list what comes to my mind. I am in way more fandoms. Feel free to ask for informations about which/the Fandoms I am in! Some are rare/underrated/unknown and don't really have a Fanbase!

✰ current hyperfix!

English Fandoms:

✰ Fallout (Series & Games)

• Gotham

• The Batman

• Stranger Things

• Misfits

✰ Parker Lewis Can't Lose

• Malcolm in the Middle

• 8 Simple Rules

• Invader Zim

✰ Disjointed

✰ Superstore

• Eddsworld

• Ninjago

• Lego Monkey Kid

• Black Butler

• Code Geass

German Fandoms:

• School for Vampires

• Binny and The Ghost

✰ The Three Investigators

If you have recommendations for Sitcoms please hand me some over 🥺 I love Sitcoms, especially 2000s ones!

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——————————————————————

Rosi's Selfshipping:

I have no solid Self-Insert/Persona.

My "Persona" has different Names, Ages, Looks and Backstories, they are all based on the F/O's Source that I am adding them in.

The gender and pronouns are based on how I feel at the given moment or stay with specific sources.

I have an Sideblog basically for all Selfshipping based posts, there you can see my Self-Inserts!!!

——————————︎︎♡︎︎♡︎︎———————————

︎︎♡ Rosi's F/O's ︎︎♡

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

By questions, feel free to ask!

I know I made it pretty hard to understand 😅 I just love labeling things kdfmdm

type:

🧡 - platonic | 🌹- romantic | ❤️‍🔥 - sexual | ❤️‍🩹 - familiar

fambond:

🩸 - related family

(if not placed, it is found family or just familiar bond)

feels/facts:

✨ - parental | 🌟 - sibling | ⭐ - cousin | 💫 - step/half | 💛 - otherfam |

💥 - unhealthy |🫀 - yandere |💖 - comfort

side of type or feel/fact:

🌚 - f/o | 🌝 - s/i

Sharing everyone except for the Pink ones, you can still interact if you are open to share them tho... I will squint.

#Fallout (Series)

Thaddeus 🌹❤️‍🔥💥🫀💖🌚🌝

The Ghoul/Cooper ❤️‍🔥✨💥💖🌚

Bud Askins 🌹❤️‍🔥🩸✨💫💥💖🌚

Norm 🧡❤️‍🩹💖🌚🌝

Maximus 🧡🌟💖🌚🌝

#Fallout (Games)

Nick Valentine ❤️‍🩹🌹✨💖🌚🌝

#Gotham

Jerome Valeska 🌹❤️‍🔥🩸💫🌟💥🫀🌚🌝

Jervis Tetch 🌹❤️‍🔥❤️‍🩹🌟💥🫀🌚🌝

Jonathan Crane 🧡❤️‍🩹✨💖🌝

#The Batman

Edward Nashton🧡💥💖🌚

#Stranger Things

Jonathan Byers🧡💖🌚🌝

Argyle🌹🫀🌝

Billy Hargrove ❤️‍🔥💥💖🌚

Steve Harrington 🧡❤️‍🩹🩸⭐💖🌚🌝

#Parker Lewis Can't Lose

Parker Lewis 🌹❤️‍🔥❤️‍🩹🌟💖🌚🌝

Frank Lemmer 🌹❤️‍🔥🩸⭐🌚

#8 Simple Rules

C.J. Barnes ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🩹🩸🌟💥🌚🌝

Bridget Hennessy 🧡🩸⭐💖🌝

#Disjointed

Travis 🌹❤️‍🔥💫💖🌚🌝

Pete 🧡❤️‍🩹🌟💖🌝

Tord 🧡❤️‍🩹🩸💫🌚🌝

#Superstore

Bo 🌹❤️‍🔥💖🌚🌝

#Eddsworld

#Black Butler

Drocell 🌹❤️‍🩹🌟🫀💖🌚

#School for Vampires

Oskar 🧡❤️‍🩹🌟🌝

Stoker/Fletscher 🌹🫀🌚

#The Three Investigators

Jupiter/Justus - 🌹❤️‍🔥❤️‍🩹🌚🌝

Skinny Norris - 🧡🩸⭐🌚🌝

Dylan Parks - 🧡❤️‍🩹✨🌚

——————————————————————

——————————————————————

That was all.

If you reached to this point: Thank you so much for reading!

I appreciate your sacrificed Time! ︎︎♡︎︎♡︎︎♡

Stay Safe & Positive !!!

Or just fuck off. - Jimmy

[f1-disaster-bi]

Continuation of the earlier 911 inspired fic:

There was still blood on his neck when he got home.

His mother was watching him with sad eyes. It had been clear that she had been crying and normally Pierre would be the one comforting her, or he'd be warmed by the fact that his mother loved his boyfriend just as much as he did but not today.

Today he had Lando’s blood on his neck, and he felt numb as his mother approached him gently as if she was afraid one wrong step and he'd break.

"Oh mon caneton", Pascale whispered softly, cupping Pierre’s face gently for a moment, "I am so sorry, but it'll be okay. He's a fighter. Little but mighty"

Pierre just nodded because he didn't have any words left. He had screamed them all out while pressed to the gravel. He had whispered them while he clutched at Lando's cold hands. Used all his words begging him to stay.

"Let's get you cleaned up, yeah? Before Felix sees his Papa like this", Pascale kissed his forehead before guiding him to the kitchen as if he were a child again.

"Does he know?", Pierre managed to whisper as his mother grabbed a cloth and wet it before she started to rub the last of Lando’s blood off his skin.

He couldn't look at his hands. He knew there was blood probably caked under his nails that he hadn't been able to get out in the hospital bathroom so he gazed at the ceiling.

"No, I...I didn't know if you wanted him to know", Pascale admitted softly and Pierre closed his eyes.

How did you tell your five year old son that the man he looked at as a second father was possibly going to die?

Pierre knew Felix knew their job was dangerous. He knew they got hurt. He probably understood that more than any five year old should after Pierre had almost died himself over a year ago, but Lando had been there. They might have only had started dating, but Lando had been in Felix's life since he was three. He was the one that stayed, trading shifts with Charles and Pierre’s mother to look after Felix.

Felix loved Lando more than anything, more than Pierre sometimes. How could he rip that away from him?

Pierre almost didn't want to tell him as he walked to his sons bedroom. The blood gone from his skin even if it felt like it was still there. Felix was sitting on the floor, surrounded by the lego set he had been building with Lando just yesterday, and it made Pierre’s eyes tear up.

"Papa!", Felix grinned up at him when he noticed Pierre and he patted the ground beside him, "Lanno here too?"

"No, um, Lando’s not here, mon ours", Pierre cleared his throat, "I...uh, I need to talk to you about that"

"Is he late? He's gonna make 'pagetti for dinner with the cheese bread. He promised", Felix pouted a little, blinking up at him as he wrapped an arm around his on, "Papa? You look sad"

"Cause I am, mon ours", Pierre tried to reassure him but he could feel his tears started to build, "Lando isn't coming home. He....he got hurt at work. A bad man hurt him, and we...we might not be able to see him for a while"

He watched as Felix paused and frowned. Confusion filled his little face, and a little sadness before he was looking at Pierre again.

"But...he'll get better right? He's at the hospital?", Felix asked, turning a piece of lego over in his hand as Pierre nodded, "They fixed you, Papa, they'll fix Lanno"

Pierre just hugged his son close for a moment and kissed his head because if he tried to speak, he was going to break down in tears, and Felix didn't need to see that. He shouldn't be worrying about his Papa crying. He shouldn't be worrying about Lando coming home. He should be like this, innocent and playing with lego so Pierre just nodded.

He didn't tell Felix that Lando might not be coming home this time.

[kobblefort]

Rushsly: Into the Depths 3

Here is my arena again, and the stats up top are looking good - check it out, no completely miserable kobbles!!!! This episode is going to begin with an absurdly long, totally irrelevant, mildly insane and kind of depressing rant so feel free to just skip to the next image because that's when I will start talking about the game again.

I don't know if you know this, but something happened in 2020. Well, obviously something happened in 2020, but I think what I'm thinking about might not be the thing that immediately comes to mind when you think about 2020, though it is probably a knock-on effect of it. You see, in 2020 a lot of people went Online who were just not supposed to be Online. Don't get me wrong, everyone was already on their way Online, whether willingly or by a kind of zeitgeist coercion - Boomers had finished terraforming Facebook from a clunky but quirky place to find out about parties and join groups for making esoteric image macros with other drug addicts who you would eventually just sort of meet at parties into a place for 30-comment family-shattering arguments to rage over an article your uncle found on TotallyTrueNews.RealWebsite about how public schools are forcing their students to say "I'm gay" over and over instead of the Pledge of Allegiance by 2018 at the absolute latest - but this was a more immediate event. Stuck at home with no other viable avenues for social fulfillment, a lot of people who shouldn't be on Twitter downloaded Twitter, a lot of people who had previously brushed it off started viewing and eventually making TikToks, started spending more than 48 seconds a day looking at Instagram (a rookie mistake, especially before reels) and though I'm not actually too familiar with this site we're on right now, I'm sure at least one 53 year old just showed up here and acted like they belonged while completely failing to accept or assimilate into the culture - not like, a fujoshi 53 year old, that's always kosher, I mean like owns a frozen yogurt store and listens to NPR 53 year old - again these aren't inherently bad, okay, so let's say a specifically not sexy 53 year old. (There is so much more to being sexy than being attractive, I NEED to clarify this, but this paragraph is already far too scatterbrained for me to get into it.) And because of this, something really bad started to happen. The veil was cut through between "the real world" and "the internet," all the way. Sure, you could argue this happened all the way back with the first Amazon sale, or the first time someone got a PayPal Business account, but we're talking about when the merge became complete.

A very long time ago I was a sheltered child, gravitationally anchored to a two-story house in a suburb that was closer to the country than the city, shuffled around schools every two years as part of some poorly-thought-out program for "gifted" kids where we got the same exact curriculum as any other kid in the district with twice as much homework, half as much socialization, and one particular teacher so miserable and cruel that I still find myself hoping she dies in some kind of "stepping on Legos forever" incident some twenty years later. (She seemingly went out of her way to make sure every student in our cohort broke down crying in front of the entire class at least once. I think I might actually be the age she was when she taught us now, and I can not imagine being okay with making a child cry, let alone intentionally trying to make it happen.) I certainly had it better than many in a material sense, the middle class really used to exist before 2008 and I was there in it, but my home life was actually pretty awful in the non-material senses, and in so many neglected hours I was able to take solace in one place. First over dial-up, then through DSL, and finally via glorious cable connection, I was able to leave the real world. On forums, on chatrooms, in game lobbies and Flash cartoons, I was specifically somewhere else.

Digital cameras were expensive and rare. Webcams... existed, I guess, but a 144p image on a CRT screen over AOL Instant Messenger's awkward protocol hardly made for a seamless connection, and I never had one anyway, because what the fuck did I or anyone else care what I looked like in real life? My Furcadia avatar was the real main event, or even better, my Graal Online character - an obscenely obscure game now, but it seemed bigger than the whole world when I was 9 - I was not bound by the name my parents chose for me but instead liberated by the handle I dreamt up for myself. There was no image or shape of me to weigh me down, only my thoughts and the way I managed to translate them. And there was another quality of this place that would inform my later disdain for capitalism, though I didn't know it yet: that everything was free. Though they could never find their way onto the Animal Crossing Forums or Starmen.net, and especially not Hell Is A Forum (thank god) even my parents could figure out Napster and the CD burner on our beige old Gateway desktop, and would boot me off to go play with my Dreamcast or my Genesis ever so often to burn a mix for the car or their workout - though they were trolled by that one Bill Clinton MP3 more times than any of us would like to admit, and I'm sure at least two or three of the many viruses that eventually did that old machine in came from there. Still, this was not a point of controversy, did not upset anyone besides, well, Metallica and the RIAA - it was just how the internet worked. If you could digitize something, turn it into data, break it down into a series of machine-interpretable binary bits and hexadecimal bytes, then it could be shared completely freely; there was no way to stop it from being shared completely freely. Once a thing was on the internet, it belonged to the internet, and this was not some dystopian AI-corpus financial instrument, but a worldwide triumph of human connection, a bastion of culture available to anyone with a machine and a modem. Learning things, finding things, talking to people was all so free and so easy, and connections were so beautifully earnest. Forums built around mutual interests made fast friends out of people who simply wouldn't meet in the real world, would otherwise just feel alone in their hobbies and pastimes and artistic ambitions, let everyone experience the joys of sharing in mutual passions without the aches and costs of travel, the gross fleshy trappings of physical life. You were free to just download Christian ska songs and roleplay as being an evil wolf with angel wings and talk about anime for crying out loud - which was really not normal at all yet for an American in, let's say, 2003.

My heart is warmed by younger people rejoicing in digital nostalgia, but I really wish they could have been there for the whole thing. "Y2K" was so much more than an aesthetic, it was a way of seeing the world, of experiencing the present and envisioning the future. It is truly ironic to have "digital millenium," two of the most hopeful words in the world to me when I was a kid, be the first two words of "DMCA," one of the most soul-crushing. On some level, we must have known it couldn't last forever, but the decay creeped in so slowly that you almost couldn't notice it, not unless you really looked. Paywalls went up, copyright takedowns went out, messageboards went down. Little by little, even the concession of "shareware" became corrupted by the wrong kind of perverts - coin-counting suit-wearing fun-hating puritans that, trite as it is, really did want to pave paradise and put up a parking lot. Rent-seekers claim-jumped domain names by the thousands and asked exorbitant fees to let actual creators use them, the definition of "spam" grew looser and looser until it became normal for a total stranger to E-mail you a fucking advertisement, and all the SheezyArt's and VCL's were either crushed underfoot or congealed into the same all-encompassing grey goo of Social Media, a more Accessible internet not to the people who needed it, or even particularly wanted it, but who saw it as a resource to exploit.

But for a long while, the internet was still ultimately the domain of people who wanted to be there. The Facebook boomers barely ever breached containment, and anyone with any sense knew how to keep their paths from crossing. Twitter was still overwhelmingly weird, Facebook still at least had safe pockets that made it worth logging on every couple of days. But 2020 ended this completely. The trends of the last few years reveal it so plainly: a lot of people who genuinely don't belong on the internet are on it and just stuck here now. NFT guys were never even supposed to exist - people like that are supposed to just try to one-up each other at consumer-goods conventions with luxury watches or elaborate decorative rugs. The people crying out "Mister King Elon, Sir, my Blue-Check has improved my Reach, but people still aren't liking my Tweets! What's going on!?" should be harassing each other in country clubs. Televangelists should not even physically be able to access e621 but they do, and after they finish jacking off to femboy foxes with giant cocks in striped socks like everyone else does, they feel compelled to go online and tell a crowd about how "Liberals are putting litterboxes in classrooms because the teachers make kids identify as pansexual nonbinary catboys, we need to start kidnapping endocrinologists," a crowd that should not be following for-profit parishioners on Twitter, they should be in a La-Z-Boy yelling at the TV and buying the world's shittiest kitchen knives off the Home Shopping Network.

And I mean, what do we do, right? Is this just the new cycle? Something cool comes around and we get to have fun with it for a few years until the boomers come shit all over it? How long can we go on like that? I'd say quite a while longer, actually. The truth is that a new cool thing will arise, we will have a place again for the actual weirdos and outcasts who make everything of any sentimental and cultural value to coalesce together, one that the Finance Fuckers and the Status Seekers and the hate-spewing freaks can't figure out how to get on, don't even want to get on. I don't know what it will be or where or how, but this all comes in waves. In nature, the prey population rises, then the predator population does too, then the prey population falls, then the predator population falls. There is summer and there is winter. In the human world we have made things markedly more complex, but we still operate on the fundamental principles of nature, there is still a morning after every night no matter how long. Somewhere, somehow, a new world is coming. It has to be. And somewhere in this world, something is waiting for you.

I think things like the greatest simulation game of all time, Dwarf Fortress speak to what the internet and computers really are, really can be, really should be. I think the greatest simulation game of all time Dwarf Fortress is not just a relic of a more optimistic time but something that keeps the spirit of the old internet alive. Tarn once said that people who actually play the game are simply beta testers, and it is only by sharing our experiences with it to others that you get to actually "play" it. I really like that, I feel as though that concept contains the very "collaborative spirit of giving freely" from the old internet. So how about I get back to beta testing the greatest simulation game of all time Dwarf Fortress for you.

New problems are often just old problems. On the left we see that more food has been left to rot on the floor, because of course it has, at this point I think they just like doing it. On the right we see that, well, I didn't really designate anyone to throw out the forgotten beast corpse or its associated parts, so... that's kind of just stinking up the place. Right at the main stairway, too! Well, down a hole on the surface it goes.

We needed more flux stone for steel production, so I went to dig into the dolomite wall of our church/main tavern floor, but it turned out to be hiding a massive iron vein. Well, there's still enough dolemite to be worth it, and it's not like more iron is bad, it's just not particularly good.

Chief Acl himself, apparently quite a religious man lately, takes the task of throwing the ratfolk necromancer down a very deep hole, cage and all. It's a quick and merciful death, which the other ratfolk will surely come to envy in time as it's now their turn to be chucked down. Well, that plan kind of has a hitch.

Only the first ratfolk is actually successfully thrown down the pit - the next two see the pathetic fate that awaits them and immediately make a break for it. And then...

Ace Steel, the Beast Slayer, catches one, beheads them, and then...

chops the other one in fucking half. Jesus Christ

And in the background, just as a little aside, our bird towers spot three ratfolk thieves trying to break in. It's too bad they haven't been able to send any survivors back to warn them about all the traps. Well, they won't get the chance now, either. These particular ratfolk are just going straight down the garbage pit because, well, I dunno, the "arena" feels like a shit idea after all.

Hey, Nillians are here! I've never seen these folks before. Hope they aren't squeamish like elves, because they got here just in time to see ratfolk thrown down a fucking garbage chute. We'll give them a nice warm welcome, and also I feel like getting some special quarters set up for the Beast Slayer. I don't want her to feel as though her hard work isn't being appreciated. Of course, she's not the only member of the military...

Dralas Containedbanded, a fine crossbowbold in his own right, has fallen asleep right in the middle of the main tavern as a party rages around him - another member of his squad, Almda Smileurn, snoozes away in the lower one. I take it they're enjoying their leave to the fullest, as they should. It'll be right back to training soon enough.

The trading post is absolutely run at this point - we seem to be popular, despite the fact we really haven't been exporting much. And oh god they're doing that thing with the wagon don't do it don't do it don't crunch it don't smush it. Okay. I'm better now. I traded with the Nillians for their instruments; we're almost completely self-sufficient now, so nothing else they have is particularly interesting.

In political news, we're a Realm now! Which means Acl's lodgings are no longer good enough, and has also inspired Alsrta Moltenend to enact a ban on the export of iron anvils. Which... yeah, sure, whatever. They're not exactly our money-makers. In fact, I don't think we've ever sold one. So yeah, sure, who cares.

Ace Steel now has a grand bedroom to share with her husband Zolr Fatvenoms (cute name) that includes satinspar furniture (her favorite rock) and pig iron walls (her favorite metal - she's worth slowing down the steel production for...) right next to the tavern. It's also around this time that I discover the population cap was set to 50; I figured we just weren't getting a lot of migrants because we weren't creating or exporting a lot of wealth, but...

That's pretty obviously not true. So I crank it back up to 200 and set about digging out some more apartments. We've been eating through vertical space pretty quickly, but as far as horizontally, there's still tons of room, and while it's obviously more efficient to just stack them instead of spreading them out, I don't particularly want bedrooms any closer to the caverns than they are, so instead I make the aesthetically questionable decision to just smush them all onto elevation -5 with the other 3-tile bedrooms.

In between all their stairwells, we create a grand mausoleum for Acl, who is apparently no longer content with just a platinum sarcophagus in a crystal glass chamber up where the proles get buried. I'd say royalty really changed him, but it kind of didn't.

There he is, putting together some random pauper's bedroom.

We got another live one! This one's a bit more worrying than the last - I can't imagine it having fire powers will bode particularly well for us.

A floor below, the hatches are locked, and both squads are set to patrol the point where it could feasibly break through. We only got a glimpse of it before it disappeared into the fog of war, but it seemed to be climbing along the walls if not outright flying, so once again the whole "don't open up the caverns on the ground level" thing turned out to be meaningless.

God she's so badass. I shouldn't even be scared. But I am, precisely because she's so badass. Losing such a great kobble would be a death blow to the fortress' morale, much less my own. The beast appears every now and then on the map, swimming around just at the edge of our revealed look into the caverns. Just now I got up from the computer, walked over to the fridge, uncovered a pan of spaghetti I've been saving since last night, and ate two handfuls with my bare hands. I just sort of tilted my head back and lowered them into my mouth. I don't know why I'm like this, my fork is clean (I only own one) but I didn't want to eat a forkful of spaghetti, I wanted to eat a handful of spaghetti. And I did, and I liked it. I don't know. Maybe that early image-generation AI was on to something. Eat spaghetti with your hands some time, just give it a try. Why not? What are you afraid of? Anyway, as we wait with bated breath...

i just wanted to sneak the horse soap into this picture because i think it's funny, it has nothing to do with anything. The year changes. 254, the start of our fifth year in Rushsly. It's certainly cause for celebration, even if this isn't the time. For now, with the beast still far enough away to remain hidden but close enough to remain a potential threat, the best we can do is let the soldiers off patrol for a little bit to calm their nerves - weapons and armor still at the ready, of course - and try to have a few more normal days. Sure, they could be our last, but really any day could, and at least we know what's coming. And in real life I'm tired but want to try a bit of Shadows of Doubt before bed so I'm going to have to cut it here. It seems like as the complexity of the fort increases, so does the length of these posts, but yet the in-game time spent only decreases. Maybe by the time we're at 100 kobbles I'll only even get through a season or two per session. Oh and sorry about that rant back at the beginning. If you actually read it then wow lol, thanks. If you didn't, don't worry, you didn't miss anything. I just don't have anywhere else to do long-form thought organizing like that right now. This may be a Dwarf Fortress Let's Play tumblr but it is also my blog. Probably not going to go on a tangent that long again any time soon but I'll warn you and tell you where to skip again if I do. I deeply appreciate your patronage take it easy thanks

[edelorion]

can't sleep. here's some venting. it's about trauma. abuse. the works. you probably shouldn't read this unless you're, like, a mutual.

...i really, really hate having trauma. it's too much to handle. i keep thinking about it day and night. it's in my dreams. it affects my actions. it's a defining trait of mine.

i don't want it to be one. i wish i could just get over it. all of it.

i want to be able to drink water normally. i want to be able to only be mildly annoyed whenever my throat has some slime in it instead of feeling this... inexplicable hostility from the time that it felt like blood was pooling in my throat as a result of being bear-hugged into the hard side of a couch by one of my predecessors. i hate it. i hate it so much. why can't i hate him as much? he's the one that did this to me.

i want to be able to throw things away that i actually don't care about. i want to be able to give other things of mine away to people who would appreciate them more. i want to be able to lend things to friends, CLOSE friends, without needing to watch them like a hawk to make sure they don't destroy my things, like a certain other predecessor kept doing. destroying and throwing things away i care about. things that i still miss to this day. my old box of lego and other toys. i had a friend in that box, a lego robot with a cool spear, if i recall. i'll never get them back. all because of her.

i want to be able to talk to people about things. have them listen. not need to explain myself at every turn. not need to be able to sanitize everything that i say so they won't ask the wrong questions. i want the things i say to people i trust to not be abused by those who were never supposed to hear it, grandma.

i want to not worry about being judged. interrogated. i want to be able to be open. i don't want to be ashamed of everything that i do to the point that i get insanely paranoid to the point that i can't have anyone in my room. to the point that i have a password lock on everything that i can have one on.

because they took things away from me when i confided in you. when you told them what i said.

...i know you ment well.

because i've seen their messages. the pictures they took of things that were supposed to be secret. the confrontations. the mocking. because they don't understand. because they don't want to understand.

i've seen how it made me act. that defensiveness. the venom. the vitriol. i wasn't a person back then - i was an animal that thought everywhere was a corner and everyone else was a predator. i hated others for having a better life than me. i hated myself for not being like them. i was like a rosebush, without the roses, and coated in whatever makes poison ivy sting like that.

i hated being like that. i stopped being like that to others. i'm glad i did. i'm... trying to be nice now. i always wanted to be nice. i couldn't even pick a hurtful dialogue option in a game if i tried.

i'm happy that i am nice. to most.

all except my predecessors. well, one in particular. and i don't mind still being like this to her because she deserves it after all she's done and is still doing to me.

but it's tiring, that hatred. that vitriol. i don't want anger to define me. i don't want hatred to define me. i don't want my trauma to define me.

but it still does.

i don't want to dream about getting hurt and choking on my own blood. i don't want to dream about losing things close to me that i cherish beyond anything else. i don't want to dream about people finding out things about me that ridicule me. i don't want to dream about people using what they know about me against me.

i want to be able to swallow without fear. i want to be able to be lend things out to friends. i want to be able to talk to friends and be open with them. i want to be able to cry. to be honest. open. emotional. not guarded. not ready to strike back at a moment's notice.

i just want to be able to sleep at night and dream of electric sheep, for once.

[assbutt-writes]

A Heart Of Iron Chapter 14

Chapter below cut

LOKI

What Loki saw when he got down to the common area nearly made him burst into laughter. There was a small ten-year-old boy with paper, pens, and other various office supplies stuck to his arms and legs crying while Tony was frantically trying to get his hand unstuck from the boy's shoulder. Loki used his magic to free them with a wave of his hand, and Tony accidentally toppled his chair over with the force of him trying to pull his hand off of the boy.

"That should keep him from sticking to things for a while." Loki said, and Tony let out a sigh of relief, picking himself up off of the floor.

"Okay. So, Peter, until we can figure out what's going on, how would you like to stay here? It wouldn't be permanent, but-" Tony started, but Peter suddenly ran up and hugged him, knocking all of the words right out of his mouth. Tony stood there, face frozen in shock, but slowly he returned the embrace. The sight made Loki's heart skip a beat, and they all stayed there for what felt like eternity, before someone cleared their throat.

"Sorry to interrupt, but Quill wants to know if the kid wants to play Mario Kart," Steve said, and Peter immediately looked up.

"Wait, Mario Kart?" the kid said, face lighting up.

"Yeah. Him, Rocket, and Clint are playing upstairs," Steve explained, and Loki blinked in confusion.

"The raccoon plays Mario Kart?" he said bemusedly.

"Yeah, and he's really good at it. Apparently, it's not too different from flying a ship, and he can do that in his sleep," Steve said, and Peter, having left Tony and walked over to Steve, looked completely lost.

"Wait, hold on. There's a raccoon that can fly a ship and play Mario Kart?" Peter asked.

"Yeah, but you might not want to call him that to his face. He really doesn't like it," Steve said.

"Okay," Peter said, eyes wide with shock, "Surprisingly, that's not even the weirdest thing to happen to me today."

"Oh, really?" Steve said, and the two started walking up to the common area, talking about the field trip, spider bite, and subsequent weirdness.

As soon as they were gone and Loki looked over at Tony, he froze. A single tear was sliding down Tony's face, and he looked so unbelievably sad.

"He looks just like his dad," Tony said brokenly, his eyes distant, as if reliving an extremely painful memory, and Loki's heart broke a little for the sheer pain that was evident on his face.

"Tony–" Loki started, but Tony seemed to snap out of the memory, forcing his expression into one of false happiness.

"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's head up!" Tony said before rolling to the elevator.

Loki stared after him for a second, debating whether or not to press the topic, before deciding that he shouldn't pry and following Tony to the elevator.

When they got up, the scene in front of them made Loki let out a surprised laugh. Peter was wearing Tony's Jedi robe and Steve's shield on his back over the robe while racing Rocket in Mario Kart. Just as they walked in the door, Peter beat Rocket, and he reached over and grabbed the paper Burger King crown from Rocket's neck - he was wearing it as a necklace because it didn't fit on his head - and put it on his head. Rocket tried to grab it back, yelling that Peter was a cheater, and Quill and Thor grabbed Rocket's arms to hold him back. Peter stuck his tongue out at Rocket, who started trying to bite at Thor and Quill, the latter immediately dropping him.

"Hey! No biting! You're gonna give me rabies!" Quill said, jumping back as Rocket lashed out at him.

"Hey, guys, break it up!" Gamora said, moving to be between Rocket and Peter.

Rocket was still trying to bite at Quill, so, in an effort to distract them, Tony picked up the Lego Death Star box and said, "Who wants to build Legos?"

Peter immediately perked up and ran over to Tony. "Oh my God you have a Death Star? Ned has been wanting to get one for forever! This is so cool"

"Do you want to invite him over?" Tony offered, and Peter's face lit up even more.

"Really? Mr. Stark, thank you so, so much. I'm gonna– I'm gonna go call him. He's gonna be so excited!" Peter said happily, pulling out his phone and running into another room.

Tony stared off after him for a bit before setting down the box and resting his head in his hands. Loki quietly walked over to him and sat down next to him.

TONY

“What's wrong?" Loki asked quietly.

“Nothing. I'm fine," Tony said, voice cracking on the last word.

“Tony," Loki said, obviously not believing a word he was saying.

“I said I'm fine," Tony snapped, making Loki flinch slightly. Tony turned to apologize, but he stopped when he saw that Peter had come back, saying that Ned would be there in 5 minutes. They started opening the packaging, Peter insisting that they only open one bag at a time and put the loose pieces in a bowl so that they didn't lose any, and before they knew it, JARVIS was informing them that Ned was on his way up.

They started to put the Death Star together, and only took a break when Peter started looking around for something to munch on. Steve quickly brought out some crackers and cheese TIE fighters, making both of the kids' - and Tony's - faces break out in a huge grin.

They continued working on it until it got dark out and the kids started to fall asleep. Tony offered for Ned to stay overnight, to which he said that he really, really wanted to, but his Lola was probably really worried about him. Tony had JARVIS fly him home via suit, and Tony showed Peter where his room would be. The boy's eyes went huge at the sight of the Star Wars themed room with a half-rebel, half-empire wall light, a lightsaber and blaster wall display, a death star rug, and a bed shaped like the millennium falcon cockpit.

Peter slowly entered the room, looking around the room in awe before he finally looked up. There was a giant plasma screen on the ceiling that was showing the footage from Voyager, and Peter's jaw dropped.

"Oh, by the way, the screen can show other things, too. For example," Tony said, turning to look up, "JARVIS, can you play A New Hope?"

The ceiling started playing the opening credits for A New Hope, and Peter let out a quiet "Woah!"

Realizing the time, Tony said, "Hey, kid, it's getting late, so you should be getting to bed. JARVIS, set the screen back to the Voyager."

Peter yawned and then got into the bed, falling asleep almost immediately. Smiling, Tony quietly left the room and went to his room, getting into bed and falling asleep as well.

[jvstheworld]

My Ted Lasso Re-watch: S1E5 (part 2)

Tan Lines

Baz calling Ted a wanker in front of Michelle and Henry is not something he should have to deal with. It's actually vile how people think it's okay to yell abuse at people who are just trying to do their jobs, and also do it in front of their loved ones. Henry is a kid, he shouldn't have to see his dad yelled at like that.

Will say though, Ted looks awfully cosy in his jumper.

Mae coming in to help and give Henry some darts to play with. She saved the day.

Michelle is trying but it feels so half arsed. She has pretty much checked out of the relationship, despite what she tries to say or do, she just won't admit it yet. She didn't meet Ted half way at training because she doesn't feel that rush of excitement when she sees him anymore. She wants it to be over.

How much force did Henry use to get the dart in Paul's arm? Kid has a good arm if he can do that.

Two things: the first is that I love that Roy has really gotten into reading A Wrinkle In Time to the point where he carries it everywhere he goes. And the second is that he is so clearly jealous of Jamie getting to be around Keeley that he say anything just to talk to her.

Keeley isn't scared of Roy, and isn't afraid of putting him in his place when he's over stepped.

1st Field of Dreams reference, while building a lego bus. Ted wants to be apart of Henry's life, it's just difficult to do in their situation. It's a cute family moment and Michelle does join in, if only for Henry's sake.

Ted lying awake in bed with Henry and Michelle, because this is what he wants. He has missed his family and they've had a seemingly good day together. And it makes him hopeful for the future, which is heartbreaking when you know what comes next.

Okay Ted, honey, you're supposed to put jam and clotted cream on scones. The order in which you do that is up for debate, however, you're not supposed to eat them dry.

Ted and his jar of peanut butter. Is that an ADHD thing, serving as a reminder to eat food?

Ted is all smiles and as soon as he sees Michelle crying his face just drops and goes to comfort her. Except, hearing that your wife is no longer in love with you must hurt more than he can let on because Henry is around and neither of them want show that anything is amiss. Jason shows Ted going through heartbreak very well.

Nate's right, 4,438 miles is a lot of space to give someone.

Beard's opinion on marriage is funny considering his relationship with Jane. He's the one who always goes back to her. And I'm not going to talk about that ending until I get to it.

Nate's dad talking about his height as 0.001 miles tall, could be seen as a nice in joke between father and son, but really when you meet his dad it's kind of condescending.

Michelle and Dr Jacob decided that Ted needed to give her some space. Now, is that because Dr Jacob liked Michelle and wanted to persue her but needed Ted out of the way, or did they come across each other one day, after the divorce, and he just asked her out? Either way, she was a former client, and he had personal info about her from their sessions together, they should not have dated.

Damn, Higgins. That's a good truth bomb right there. In every scene we seen Leslie and Julie together, you can tell that they are still very much in love after all these years.

In the UK the emergency number is 999, but for non-emergency medical needs we also have 111, to help stop people from coming in for minor ailments that could be sorted without a trip to A&E (the ER). Doesn't always help though as I can attest to, unfortunately.

That was the first unofficial meeting of the Diamond Dogs. A chance to give men the opportunity to talk about things in a positive and healthy way. God, I fucking love it.

[yaoizowie]

Just thought of a good example of this: recess. If you asked me before I started actually working what I thought abt tsking away recess from a kid as a consequence I would be like well depriving a child of fun or releasing energy feels cruel and unnecessary and a lot of the time doesn't work to really teach the child better behaviors

But now my county is saying we can't take away recess from kids anymore and I'm realizing like. That is the only leverage I have with these children. Which shouldn't be an issue- I shouldn't need something to use as leverage against a child. But I do!

Like as a scenario, kid a throws a lego at kid b and mow refuses to move, only says 'no' in response to anything, keeps his head in his hands, etc. What I would like to do in this situation is give the kid time to breathe and think quietly without making demands, then once a certain time has passed I would calmly and politely talk to the kid about something unrelated and preferred (a show they like or a game or w/e). Then I could start conversing with them about the distraction until they're calmer, and then I can take them somewhere private and talk them through what happened

But when you're dealing with that situation AND a kid in the next class over is scream crying for some reason AND you're expected to be in a meeting in 10 mins AND another kid in the class keeps trying to find out what's happening AND you have 3 reports due that week AND the class aide is telling you their beef with another aide or how to do your job AND etc etc etc it's like. Dude. Get up or you lose recess!!!!

And this actually happened today where a lid I work with thrww a lego at another kid and then shut down in anger. I sat with him for 5 minutes of quiet to give him some time then tried talking to him, but he wouldn't talk, so I got frustrated and was like 'dude if you refuse to talk were gonna stay in here until you do and you're gonna miss recess' and it didn't work he was just like well I don't want recess anyways and I was like UGH

his aide had to step in and ease him out with a YouTube video he likes and taking time to distract him and I was like damn. I really was impatient with him there and didn't help.

But it's so hard to not just go for the easy solution when you're under stress and running out of time and not getting paid enough lol

Something I think is crazy and I think says something abt me as a person but also abt how society is working rn is that before I started working in education and behavior intervention I was like oh if a kid is trying to stab another kid with a rusty nail that obviously means there's some underlying issues or trauma going on and that student needs help processing their feelings and coming up with appropriate ways of seeking help or attention. And I do still think that is true, it's just that now I'm like. Yeah nothing I do is gonna help that so might as well just take the nail away from the kid and move on with the day

Like it's sooooo easy to become bitter and stop caring about making a difference when nothing you do shows any significant progress and people expect you to perform magic

[sunnyjae]

my roommate [part one] ♡ yjh 

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. I put my smut strictly under the smut tags on here to protect you guys so don't open anything with a warning like this one. Please.

[tag list info: let me know if you want to be added]

pairing ♡ jeonghan × fem!reader

pervert!jeonghan | roommate!jeonghan | dom!jeonghan | non-idol!au | fem!reader virgin!reader

warnings ♡ corruption kink, virgin kink, pantie fetish, descriptions of cunnilingus (giving and receiving), sort of possessiveness, depictions of cum eating, nipple sucking, nipple play and boob worship, cursing

summary ♡ in which your roommate exposes a dirty secret he's been hiding since he began living with you.

word count ♡ 2k

part one | part two

Rooming with Jeonghan after being introduced through mutual friend Joshua was initially a genius idea on your part. Splitting the rent on this cute place was great, and the fact you bagged yourself a morally decent human being as a roommate made it just that slightly more worthwhile.

Although the two of you rarely talked, when you did it was usually snarky comments and side-eyes, you definitely felt a sort of pull to your mysterious sexy roommate. He was slim and tall, blonde hair iconic and at its hottest in his after-shower, one-towel-around-the-hips look.

Jeonghan was addicting to look at. His rude and oftentimes slightly degrading comments you got off on, and he seemed to have no clue how much his snide remarks got you reeling. When he wasn't at home you practically went feral at the thought of him.

You particularly found those rarely-walked-in-on domestic moments the sexiest: Jeonghan wearing glasses made you want to vomit in the best possible essence of the word ; Jeonghan getting a glass of water in only his sweats with beads of water rolling down his torso after his daily shower ; Jeonghan vacuuming the studio apartment with wet hair. Among many other tidbits that had you mentally crying.

You'd talked to Minghao about Jeonghan for a while, and as your best friend he agreed it would be best to date someone who actually respects you rather than someone who finds every spare minute of his day to throw insult after insult at you and your objective incompetency to be a decent person. You doubted he even saw you the way you saw him.

Jeonghan, on the other hand, nearly doubled over first thing on a friday morning at the sight of you in your tiny silk nightdress, walking into the kitchen with that cute little yawn he always caught you doing, the one where you shuddered a little. He'd just finished organising the legos in his room when he started wiping down the bookcase in the living room after his shower. You'd decided to sleep a little longer so you could actually feel more awake on your day off work, while simultaneously hoping to avoid your roommate at all costs.

You nearly choked seeing him in the apartment as if he didn't live here. "Why are you here?"

"I live here." he deadpanned, opting not to look at you but continuing to furiously wipe at a spot on the shelf he'd checked three times no less than five minutes ago.

"I thought you had a thing with Josh." you sounded disappointed and he felt his chest ache a little at your tone.

"We cancelled 'cause of the snow. It's too cold." He told you, "Speaking of cold, you should put something on, there's no one to show off to in here anyway."

You instantly knew what he was getting at, sharpening your tone. "I can wear what I feel comfortable in."

"I'm not saying you shouldn't wear it," he breathed, turning to look at you finally. You nearly dropped your yoghurt spoon. His eyes fell to your chest and pebbled skin. "Put something on top of that."

Jeonghan was usually the enigmatic type, but he wasn't really ever all that confusing. Today, however, the man was a little too talkative and much less rude. Your blood rushed to your face.

"Oh." You bit your lip nervously, trying to keep your eyes from shamelessly wandering across his bare chest. "Sorry."

He nodded once and a silence overcame the both of you. Not the first silence recently anyway. Normally this kind of communication was normal and not that awkward with him around, but something was up, and you were positive he had full knowledge of it.

He was quite stoic a lot of the time and it made you anxious, nervous to ask him something you'd had on your mind since yesterday. Something a little awkward, a question you didn't really want to ask - how the hell would he know where your underwear went anyway? "Hey, um also I can't find a pair of my underwear since Wednesday's wash. You did it so i was wondering if you perhaps know if it got under the machine, or if it's in your laundry?"

He looked at you oddly and turned so his back faced you again. "Why would I know that?" He laughed nervously. "That's a really weird question to ask your roommate."

"I know." Your shoulders slumped. Those were your favourite silk undies. "Sorry again."

He had to restrain himself from stalking over to the kitchen and reprimanding you for apologising so much. He had to physically ground himself to stop his urge to bend you over the kitchen island and spank your ass raw.

This whole situation was embarrassing. Of course you'd sniff it out eventually. He could never tell you what happened, and that it wasn't the first time the odd pair went missing and then reappeared a few days later.

Jeonghan didn't really like to sleep around, the last time he'd done anything was at a party with some uni-grad chick, so at the moment he was best buddies with his fist and the bottle of lube he had stashed away in his bedroom. That didn't do it for him a lot of the time, until he walked in on you trying to remove splotches of hardening candle wax from the carpet with just a large tee on and a pair of those mouthwatering silk panties. The dark patch in the middle made Jeonghan weak in the knees, and if his physical reaction wasn't enough, he nearly spontaneously combusted at the sight of your clothed pussy on display for him to oogle with a muffled groan.

"What exactly are you looking for, then?" He sighed impatiently.

"A pair of panties. Pink. S-silk." You almost choke, your yoghurt suddenly becoming harder to swallow. Was it strawberry? You'd forgotten at this point.

He bit his lip to stop a whine escaping his throat. He definitely needed to get laid soon.

"I'll keep an eye out." He knows where they are. Of course he does.

You'd left for Starbucks just about five minutes ago and Jeonghan found himself bolting to his room like a horny teenage boy when his parents were finally out of the house.

He spread himself on his desk chair, sweats and boxers moved down just enough to expose his length. Your silk panties in hand, he brought them to his nose and inhaled deeply, feeling his cock twitch at your scent. Nothing got him more riled up than your underwear.

"Fuck, y/n." Your name escaped his lips like a curse, as if he was frustrated and angry that you could smell so good. You were a sin, and Jeonghan was the devil incarnate. He just wished he could have you wherever he wanted, bent over his desk ; in the kitchen ; pressed up against the fridge ; pressed up into the front door ; legs up in the air anywhere ; face down ass up in his bed waiting for him, all pretty, with wet panties and tears running down your face as he talks to you condescendingly, as if you were a dumb bitch in heat barely able to verbalise how much you want him.

His pretty hand was wrapped around his cock tightly as he imagined sniffing you over your panties, praising you for smelling so, so, good and being so good for him. Images of your bare pussy glistening wet for him, untouched by anyone, pure and virgin, dribbling strings of sticky slick that clung to the crotch of your underwear as he pulled it down slowly. He wished he could have you just like that, so he could eat you out furiously for hours and hours even if you begged, even if you cried and screamed for more, to stop teasing, he'd keep going. He'd make you cum at least seven times on his face. One time for each pair of underwear he'd found himself taking.

Your scent wasn't as strong as it was before, and your panties were drier than previous pairs, he noticed. Perhaps you'd not been touching yourself in them like usual.

His cock ached as he worked his fist up and down. Oh, and your tits. Those marvelous things he thought. You'd been well-endowed in the chest department from your mom's side of the family, and for all Jeonghan knew, those beauties needed their own separate day, time and hours to be worshipped just like they deserved. All plump and big. He thought how big they'd be in his hands, whether they'd be perkier when you're hornier, whether your nipples were pretty and pebbled in the cold or if he were to circle his cockhead over each one, getting his precum on them to make them all shiny, he wondered what noises you'd make if he'd use his tongue on them, suckle on them to make them harder.

Jeonghan thought about your pretty mouth, waking up with you lying in between his legs in the morning with your tongue dipping into the hole in his tip with a hungry groan. He imagined you sucking on him and intermittently begging for his cum in your mouth when you paused. He imagined you telling him how much you loved his taste and his smell, how good he was to you and how big his cock was, as your first, snug in your pussy.

He jumped at the sound of the apartment door slamming shut - had it already been twenty minutes? Fuck. He'd spent this whole time fucking his fist to his own perverted fantasies of you and he didn't even leave himself enough time to cum. He furiously stuffed his dick back into the tight confines of his boxers and went to go wash his hands.

"Did you turn the dishwasher on?" you asked.

He'd been seeming a little angry since you arrived from your coffee run into town, and even more so when you sat near him. Perhaps he was having a moment.

Your roommate grunted in affirmation. It was snowing particularly heavily this morning and you needed to get all your stuff done just in case the pipes froze in the building.

"Hey, uh, did I do something?"

"For fucks sake." he muttered, turning Netflix on. "No."

"You seem a little on edge, Hannie." you stated, matter-of-fact.

His head snapped to you so fast you thought you heard a crack. He felt his eye twitch.

She knows what she's doing, she's stirring the pot. He bit his lip, leg bouncing up and down as the crime documentary on screen rolled the opening credits. "What did you just call me?" Jeonghan felt his stomach do around four somersaults and he nearly, nearly passed out right there on the couch.

You shrugged, standing up to move to the kitchen to get something to snack on. "I just asked you if you're feeling okay. You seem tense."

You'd just found yesterday's underwear in his, Jeonghan's, laundry basket. No wonder he was acting weird when you mentioned it earlier.

He stood and began to move after you, nearly tripping in the process. Your roommate stopped on the other side of the island with a gulp. His cock was straining against his boxers for the nth time today.

"Uh yeah, whatever." he waved it off and you questioned why he followed you into the kitchen. He pressed himself to the side of the counter subconsciously. "I'm fine." Not fine. Not fine! For fuck's sake I'm suffering through a dry spell because of you and your perfect tits and your sweet puss-

You bit your lip, glancing down to your silk lounge shorts. "I found my underwear."

"You did?" he choked. "I mean- Oh. You did. Great. Well done."

You nodded. "Yeah,"

Could this situation spiral any further down? Apparently it could.

Jeonghan pressed his lips tightly together.

"Is there something going on? You're being really weird," Your brows furrowed cutely. "Is this conversation making you uncomfortable perhaps?"

"No!" He yelped, a little too quickly. "No, I'm fine. I said I'm fine."

Keep your dick on a leash Jeonghan, you asshole. 

"Can you help me with the freezer quickly? I'm gonna get an ice pop out." you pointed to the door, watching him nod affirmatively.

Ah. So this shit definitely is spiralling further down.

Did you need help? No. Was this purely to test your roommate? Yeah, you could agree with that.

It was pretty clear he kind of struggled around you, and you knew that after last week's drunk game of truth or dare when you happened to let slip that you were a virgin and he'd added that he had some 'real freaky' kinks (according to him). Jeonghan didn't specifiy any further as he'd rather keep his roommate around (and generally have a place to live).

You unnecessarily got down on your knees as he held the door and stuck your pantie clad ass out for him to see. "I think I'm going to grab a cherry one." Your voice was muffled as you searched the back of the freezer for any more flavors tucked away, and Jeonghan failed to close his eyes at the tempting sight before him. Once again there was a tiny wet patch where your hole was, and you were aready convulsing around nothing at the knowledge that it was only your roommate who could see you like this.

"Shit." He groaned, trying to withhold the urge to dig his entire face into your pussy at once.

"Huh? You want one too?" You looked back over your shoulder at him. Jeonghan was already fully hard and painfully straining against his boxers, making you gulp. You had a front row seat to his dick print which he indeed failed to conceal, and you looked up at his pained expression.

"Uh no, I'll just have some uh, what's it called....WATER!" he fumbled with his words and turned sideways in order to hide a little, but only ended up showcasing how much he was packing down there. Where's the water again? Oh, right. The sink. Water flows from the tap. Think rationally Jeonghan. Grandma. Dead kittens. Kitten- fuck. Should he leave? Excuse himself for a shower again? Or maybe should he run to piss?

You stood up and watched his tense shoulders jerk when you placed a delicate hand on his forearm. Genuinely concerned at this point, your other hand went to his forehead after you closed the freezer door.

"Don't do that," he whined, overwhelmed with the scent of your shampoo. "Please, don't make this any harder."

"Are you...sick?" you questioned.

He sucked in a harsh breath. Here it goes. He's not ready to be homeless. He can barely make toast. Jeonghan felt himself having a sort of fight or flight response, but opted to just let it out. Finally. "Y/n. I think there's something you should know."

© sunnyjae 2022

dun dun dun…. is Jeonghan finally going to own up? Find out in the next part!

[landothemuppet]

Far Longer Than Forever (p.p)

Word count: 4737

Pairing : peter parker

Request: YES! ANON I LOVE YOU SO MUCH. The Swan Princess is one of my childhood movie and this was so fun to write. I can’t stop listenning the soundtrack now ! I’m so sorry for the time i took to write this, i had so much work to do with school. But it’s over now and i hope you will like this ! 

N/A:  First, gif not mine but i don’t know who i’m gonna credit on this, i have no clue...This is my first Peter Parker x reader and i hope you all will like it! As always, I remind you that English is not my native language. Don’t hesitate to tell me what you think of the fic! Like, reblogs to support. You can Love you all! xx

Taglist: @angeliquekalampoka @harryhollandsgirlfriend @cedricdiggorysimpp​ - if you want to be notified of all my future writings you can add yourself in my taglist : here

______

As far as you can remember, you've always hated summer. Well, it was partly a lie. You loved the sweltering heat of Queens, the cherry popsicles from Delmar's, not having to worry about what time you had to get up. You liked it but hated the idea of ​​the last two weeks of August.

 This year was no exception. You looked at your half-finished suitcase, a grimace on your face. August still meant the same thing, the same routine: having to spend the last three weeks of his vacation with Peter Parker.

summer 2009

Peter Parker had lost his parents very early on, two years ago. He had lived since then with his aunt May and his uncle Ben. It was your mother's idea to introduce you to each other. Aunt May and your mom were friends from college and luckily, they lived in the same neighborhood. Your first meeting with the one who, many years later, would become Spider-Man, took place on his eighth birthday. You were invited to the party when you weren't even at the same school. Aunt May had simply shared his fears about Peter's difficulty making friends after the trauma he had experienced. Your mother, as the perfect friend that she was, had suggested that Peter and you spend time together.

 There were 3 kids in total at that birthday party, you, Peter - obviously - and a boy from his school whose mother had forced him to be there, too. It was a fact; you were the only girl and you didn't know Peter at all. Your mother walked up to you, got up to your eye level and whispered

 "Can you be nice? May told me she invited Peter's whole class and only this boy came"

 You wanted to please your mother so you nodded before approaching the two boys. Peter and his friend were in the corner of the room, their backs turned to the adults. When you tapping the young boy on the shoulder to make you notice by him, he turned to you with a guilty expression. He had buttercream all over the corner of his mouth and he was holding a cupcake in his hand that looked delicious.

 “My Aunt May tried to bake a cake, but Uncle Ben bought some cupcakes in anticipation. Do you want one?” Peter asked you in a friendly voice

“Why? Is May's cake not good?

“Uncle Ben says that she is not very good at cooking.”

 You let out a little laugh and nodded your head before grabbing the cupcake with a smile. You thanked him and began to taste the little pastry with envy. It was so good! The buttercream was lemony, the cupcake was slightly lemony too but there was a taste you couldn't recognize. You were almost sure you had tasted it before, but you couldn't tell what it was. Peter and the other boy suggested that you go to Peter's room. He wanted to show you the LEGO set his uncle Ben had given him ahead of time and you followed them even though you weren't more excited about the idea.

 And you were right. For several minutes, you were pushed aside while the two young boys spoke spiritedly. You complained several times that you wanted to do something else but Peter didn't seem to listen to you, too excited to finally be able to chat with someone who appreciated Star Wars as much as he did.

 So you were annoyed and slightly angry with Peter but what broke the camel's back is that you started to not feel so good. Your throat was itching and you felt like your tongue was taking up a lot more space in your mouth, getting drier. Peter gave you a distracted look before his eyes widened. He let go of everything he had in his hands before running to his aunt.

 "Aunt May, Aunt May! Y/N's tongue looks like a big, desiccated steak!"

"Peter, don't be rude!" she exclaimed, shocked by her nephew’s words

"No, no come see, she has a huge tongue! I think something is wrong"

 Meanwhile, you ran into the bathroom at Peter's reaction. You weren't sure why he had looked at you like that, but you felt that a few things were wrong. In addition, you were more and more thirsty, your eyes also hurt. And that's when you saw your reflection. You were puffy, your tongue had tripled in size, hence this feeling of dryness and discomfort. It was the same with your throat. You started to cry and when May called you through the bathroom door, you fervently opened it.

 May and your mother's expression of horror was instantaneous and your mother knew exactly what was causing your condition.

 "What did she eat?"

"Nothing..." he tried to escape from being grounded

"Peter, this is very important. What did you eat?"

"We just ate the cupcakes Uncle Ben brought back"

 Ben looked at May with guilty eyes. May had put so much effort into Peter's birthday cake and she felt hurt that they had bought some pastries in anticipation. Your mother was impatiently stamping her foot. It was important to know exactly what you had eaten and above all, you shouldn't waste any more time. Peter felt completely helpless. He had only given a cupcake to his guest, that’s all. What was wrong with giving someone a cupcake?

 "What were those cupcakes flavor?" your mother said impatiently ...

"With lemon and almonds." he said in a very small voice.

 You were panicked. And the eight-year-old that you were was not coping well with stress. Plus, your feeling of being sidelined by Peter and his friend made you feel even worse. So you frowned. You couldn't see a thing but you could feel the torrent of tears escaping your cheeks. You pointed at Peter with rage

 "You tried to kill me !!!" you said somehow with your tongue as big as a little tangerine.

"It's not true!"

"Yes! You are a murderer"

 And you cried even more before your mother takes you to the emergency room as quickly as possible, apologizing for the scene.

 The week later, May forced Peter to apologize for giving you a cupcake, while justifying that he didn't know about your allergy. Your mother forced you to apologize for insulting Peter "a murderer" and accept his apologies.

 But you spent the rest of the vacation arguing with the little guy. After all, you didn't want to be friends with a murderer.

 Summer 2013

Aunt May and your mom didn't let go, however, and every summer you spent three damn weeks with Peter. The summer of your twelve years, you did not thus escape this eternal masquerade but this year, the tide had turned in your favor.

 From the start, you never liked Star Wars. It really wasn't your world. You had always preferred Harry Potter and although Peter had read the books and enjoyed them - which he would never admit to you as that would amount to listing the commonalities you had - he was much more invested in the galactic universe. But on that day, Peter had particularly bothered you. He had first replaced the sugar in your hot chocolate with salt. He kept chanting silly nursery rhymes about you and the downstairs neighbor, insinuating that you were in love: which was not the case. Yes, Peter had been extremely annoying. This time Peter was getting on your nerds by bouncing a small ball against the ceiling as you tried to read your book. Uncle Ben was in the living room watching the sport - you weren't sure exactly which one since it didn't matter to you - so you couldn't go anywhere else to be quiet.

 "Peter, stop it."

"Stop what?" he asked by bouncing the ball once more off his ceiling. You could even make out the smirk on his lips.

"That. Stop it! I can't read."

"This is nothing new."

 You threw him the first thing you found on his desk, c.e, a banana, which he easily dodged. You groaned in frustration. May and your mother didn't understand when you talked about Peter's attitude towards you. He was a calm child, far too shy at school and interested in everything, especially science. He was looking forward to entering Midletown High School in two years. You hated that nerd side about him. Secretly, you were a little jealous of him for being the smartest in the room.

 “I'm gonna hit you so hard you won't know your name anymore”

“ try me, dumbass.”

  A few minutes later, he had finally stopped throwing that damn ball, but obviously Peter's boredom was driving him to find everything the most boring thing than the previous one to drive you crazy. This time, he had simply taken his favorite lightsaber - because he had several - and he was poking your shoulder to get your attention.

 "Parker, stop!"

"Don't you want to drop this book and watch a movie?"

"What do you want to watch? Star Wars? No thanks ..."

"Oh come on, Y / N! I'm sure you'll like it!"

 He patted you on the shoulder once more with his lightsaber.

 "Do you want to play this, Parker?" you said before grabbing one of his other lightsabers

"What are you going to do? I'm sure you don't know how to fight with" he mocked.

 You have lit the glowing plastic stick and you are placed in the guard position.

 "Do you want to bet, knothead?"

 He smiled at you and attacked you first. Strangely, this is what most resembled a moment of bond between Peter and you and deep down, you appreciate it. But you also appreciate that possibility of kicking his ass after he's been so irritating. You responded to his lightsaber attacks with ease and joy. It was playful, childish, but it was one of the few times you had fun with Peter. And you really appreciate it. Your two laughs mingled, echoing in the room.

 But suddenly, as you were trying to dodge an attack from the brunet, your elbow made contact with his face. Peter's muffled cry of pain echoed and you froze. He was holding his nose with a grimace and when he took his hand away you both noticed in horror that he was bleeding.

 "Fuck…"

"Pete..." you started talking

"You blew my nose!" Peter shouted

"I did not do it on purpose!" you defended yourself.

"Of course, you do! You fucking blew my nose!"

"Peter, I swear ..."

 But Peter interrupted you by rushing out of his bedroom looking for his aunt who was in the office as she tried to file the important papers, that Ben and her had received this week. You were livid. First, because you didn't mean to hurt Peter on purpose. Second, you couldn't stand the sight of blood and it was literally everywhere. Peter was leaving trails of droplets on the floor of the apartment.

 "Aunt May?!? Y/N blew my nose! Damn, I'm bleeding!"

 After a brief stint in the ER, the rest of the stay was peaceful as you and Peter avoided each other until the end of the summer.

 Summer 2017

Peter was not the Peter you had always known.

 Since the death of his uncle Ben, the young man had closed in on himself and was even further away. Always so intelligent and discreet but much more distant. He had stopped teasing you or doing things that got on your nerves. He was minding his own business. And even though you had tried to be there for him, not denying him any of the offers he made to you during your stay ... you found him really ... overwhelmed. Which was still understandable.

 But this year was worse than the last. May told your mother that last year Peter got an internship at Stark Industry and attended a seminar in Germany but came back with a black eye. He had been acting most weirdly ever more since then. And you could have witnessed it. In the afternoon, when you were busy, and when it was too hot, when you tried to rest, Peter would disappear for hours. When you caught him sneaking back several times, he made you promise not to tell Aunt May.

 And you were starting to have theories about his nighttime getaways. After all, you were 16 and you too had started dating a few boys. But it never really worked. who knows why?! And when you wondered if Peter had a girlfriend, and who she was - he had to have one in view of all his sneaking out - your stomach twisted in a strange feeling. You didn't understand why the thought of Peter having a girlfriend bothered you so much. Over time, you had learned to be friends. It still happened sometimes that you quarreled but the events of the life made you grow up. Your parents had divorced, Peter had lost his uncle. You could tell yourself that you both had grown.

 And it was one night when Peter was sneaking back in again that you discovered two secrets.

 The first one: He was Spider-Man.

 It was around midnight when you heard the sound of the window opening. Since your childhood and this Machiavellian plan of your mother and Aunt May, you had always slept in Peter's room during holiday and more recently in his bed. The noise alerted you and you got up in a sitting position. But the only thing you saw was a foot, placed on this said window, closing it gently. How the hell was that possible?

 You were ready to scream but your gut told you to look up at the ceiling. A figure hung on it and you were paralyzed. Were you having one of those weird experiences called sleep paralysis? Delicately, silently, you grabbed the first blunt object within reach. A chemistry book that Peter seemed particularly fond of. The figure stepped on the ceiling as you were paralyzed. The form turned to land on the ground and then stood up, still with its back to you. You got up gently from Peter's bed and walked over. The man in the suit whose color you couldn't see took off his mask and you hit the air in an attempt to shoot him down. Peter turned around so quickly and blocked your gesture easily, like a reflex.

 "What the ..."

"Bloody hell".

 You both said at the same time. Your big surprised eyes mirrored Peter's. The curly man let go of your hand with an apologetic expression as you walked away from your friend. You turned on the bedside lamp before you discovered his blue and red costume. A very recognizable costume since it was that of Spider-Man. You winced, a look of judgment and incomprehension on your face. Not bothering to look at his face covered with bruises and traces of blood.

 "What the ... are you sneaking out to go to a costume party?"

"What?! No…No Y/N I’m…”

“Spider-Man? Great costume by the way” you joked.

 For a moment, you completely forgot that you just saw your friend glued upside down to the ceiling. Peter looked at you a little jaded, by the tone of your voice your guess was far from a sincere question but more of a mockery. And right now, the young man needed to be honest with you. He needed you.

 "But, I am."

"Yeah that's it. And I slept with the Winter Soldier. You can't imagine what he can do with his metal arm."

 Peter cut you off by pulling a web with his web shooter, tying your hands. The feel of the canvas was unpleasant, sticky but above all resistant. You let out a little cry of surprise, not powerful enough to pass the walls of Peter's room. Your eyes looked like two big golf balls, realizing that your friend was telling the truth.

 "Omg, You're Spider-Man" you almost spoke too loud.

"Yes and don't make me web your mouth. May doesn't have to know"

"damn, peter. What happened to your face!"

“yeah about that…I need you Y/N, please…”

  And without warning, Peter squeezed the spider in the middle of his costume, at chest level. He winced at the action revealing his bruised chest. He staggered a bit from the action, unsure of his legs and the pain in his sides fierce. You might see several bruises and cuts on your friend's body. You were having difficulty swallowing before you told him you were going to the bathroom to get what you needed. Before leaving the room, he made you promise to be discreet and not tell May anything if she ran into you. When you walk back into Peter's room, he's sitting half-lying on his bed, grimacing. You sit next to him, your heart pounding. You never noticed that he was so built. After all, as a superhero, he had to keep fit. But you couldn't deny that it intimidated you. Your cheeks were burning with embarrassment and a desire you never knew before. He had his eyes closed, as if trying to make the pain go away. And there, looking at him, you found him pretty. he was so cute that you couldn't help but run your hand through his curls to signal your presence and soothe him a bit. But Peter already knew you were there. He had heard your footsteps, he had smelled your scent, a sweet scent he had grown used to in his later years. He sighed softly, more relaxed. You started to clean the few shallow wounds.

 "Does it hurt?" you asked quietly

"Mhmm no, not really."

"Did you win?"

"Ouch..No. Not tonight."

"Sorry." you said more for your gesture rather than the fact that he didn't win the fight against the bad guys.

"No, it's perfect ... it's just a little sensitive"

 You smiled but something was wrong. A feeling you've never felt before. You've finished cleaning up Peter's wounds, but your gaze has darkened. As you were about to get up, the brunette gently grabbed your wrist to hold you back. He could hear your calm breathing and yet your heart was racing. He could feel the heat on your cheeks. He too felt that the tension was at its height. Your mind was muddled, he didn't know why, he wasn't a telepath, but he could see it, feel it. Your body betrayed your mind.

 "Y/N, what is it?"

"I..I don't know." you lied.

"You can tell me everything."

"I ... Well…Seeing you like this ... makes me ... makes me realize that I ... I'm afraid of losing you."

"You won't lose me ... I promise"

 You are ashamed of your vulnerable state. How did you go from hating this boy to having an overwhelming fear of losing him? You looked at those chocolate eyes in confusion and distress. You were now fully aware that the little neighborhood spider was none other than your childhood friend. The one you once loved to hate, tease, fight with over trivia. He was also on the youtube videos, who stopped cars with his bare hands.

 “Y/N… you won’t lose me, I promise.”

 Peter dared to walk slowly towards you and in a surge of courage, one of his hands circled your burning cheek, his lips rested on yours. The brunette had always had a crush on you without actually admitting it. After all, you had known each other since you were children but... your relationship had been rather confrontational. But for two years now, everything had changed for him. He appreciated more and more your little arguments, your teasing. His thoughts would sometimes turn darker when you lick your lips or when your fingers scratched that point behind your ear, when you were a little stressed.

 Your lips moved between them in a harmonious dance and you were now clinging desperately to Peter's slightly sweaty brown curls. Your heart was pounding at a speed close to the point of no return, reluctant to stop suddenly in the face of this overstimulation. But all good things came to an end and you slowly walked away. You bit your lip to get the taste of Peter's back. Your mind wandered, lost in the haze of rushing feelings.

 "You..you should rest ..."

 You ended up pulling away, swallowing hard. That night you didn't sleep. You have studied every facial feature of Peter, thinking of every event since your friendship. The next day, you fooled that nothing had happened. Too scared of what that kiss meant to you.

 Summer 2025

It all happened so quickly. After that summer, the summer of your kiss, you promised yourself that you understood your feelings towards Peter. You weren't going to the same high school and even though you were both on social media, you never dared to contact him. You needed time.

 But you haven't had this time. Peter became full-time Spider-Man and then the aliens came to earth, again. The threat of Thanos hovered and within moments, days, hours ... you were gone under his snap.

 When you returned to your childhood apartment, you were alone. Well, alone in front of the family who lived in this place now. The man in his forties simply believed you were a drug-hunting teenager squatter. Five damn years had passed. 5 years where your mother had a new life when you had been eclipsed. You were distraught, alone and it was by happy coincidence that you found May at the F.E.A.S.T project. It was a relief for you to find a familiar face again. She had suggested that you come and live in her new temporary apartment, allowing you to finish high school without having to move to the other end of the United States, with your mother. You declined your offer. You wanted to fend for yourself. And surprisingly, you did pretty well.

 To be exact, Mr. Delmar was looking for a student to work in his store and was kind enough to greet you in the bedroom of one of his daughters who had gone to college. By the greatest of luck, you've never seen Peter. Or rather, you managed to avoid it for an entire year. You had caught a glimpse of him one day, trying to speak Italian to get a travel adapter and a dual headphone adapter. Did you feel foolish thinking that after so long - could we consider those 5 years to be 5 concrete years? - would it still focus on the kiss you shared? After all, you got away from him after that. And then, everything went in a state of madness.

 Every time you turned on the television, you learned that elemental monsters had attacked a different country. They had first started with Mexico and then moved to Europe. Italy, Prague and then London. A certain Mysterio seemed to be taking care of this matter, but you couldn't help but think of Peter. May told you he was supposed to go to Italy. In fact, every time she went to Delmar's for a sandwich, she gave you an update on her nephew's trip. But it wasn't the craziest.

 Upon his return ... Spider-man's identity was revealed. You had watched in horror the video of Mysterio, which appeared on the Daily Buggle newspaper, accusing Peter of wanting to be the new Iron-Man. You were listening to J. Jonah Jameson falsely accusing Peter of being a murderer. You knew Peter, and there was no way he had done such an act. The video was bogus, you were sure. When you tried to reconnect that summer, you noticed Peter's girlfriend. Michelle Jones and ... and that's what kept you from approaching him. He was already supported. He had his best friend, Ned. His girlfriend, MJ. And he had May. It was enough, wasn't it?

  It was the following year, after a new incredible adventure that you met again.

You worked at the store in the evening. Mr Delmar had asked you to help him out urgently because his youngest daughter had a health problem. You accepted with pleasure. You had offered to babysit his daughter but the loving father he was wanted to be with her. And it was precisely this evening that a thug decided to steal the fund from you.

 You were at gunpoint with your hands up in the air when you saw a red and black mass fall behind the thug.

 "Hey buddy, I think the bank is across the street"

 Spider-Man tapped the thief on the shoulder and dodged a punch.

 "But I think I'll arrest you anyway if you went to the bank. You don't seem like a nice guy." Peter joked.

 You were paralyzed as your friend, your best friend if you were honest, chained or avoided them with agility. You swallowed hard, unable to move or run away. A gunshot rang out and you smelled a scared little vintage. Peter squeezed the barrel of the gun in his hand, deviating from his course. It made sense now to say that he had simply defended himself against the assault. After a few seconds that seemed like an eternity, Peter stared the offender against a fridge door, immobilizing him. He then turned to you, oblivious to your identity at the time.

 "Are you okay there?"

"Peter!"

 You didn't give him the chance to realize and you rushed into his arms, hugging him so tight to feel the comfort of his body against yours.

 "Uh, yeah, you're welcome. Cuddles are nice but ..."

 He paused for a moment and his automated eyes widened. He knew his perfume. The flowery, sweet scents that he had missed so much. Is this possible?

 "Y/N?"

 You let go of him and immediately put his mask back on. Adrenaline was controlling your actions and god damn it, you needed that touch. You kissed him, bluntly. Your lips crushed against his in impatience, in ardor, but too bad. You needed to feel it against you, to regain the feeling that you had felt, years ago. After a few seconds, you felt Peter's hands encircle your waist, pulling you closer to him. Your heart was exploding, the ardor was present in your kiss. You were even frustrated that you couldn't grab her brown curls with full hands, settling for only the base of her hair. You let out a moan before pulling away abruptly. He had a girlfriend.

 "I… I'm sorry. I… Sorry, I didn't mean… MJ… and… please don't blame me."

 Peter silenced you with another kiss, shorter this time but so good.

 “There is no MJ .... Just you and me ... Far Longer Than Forever”

 You looked at him hopefully and then burst out laughing after his words.

 "I didn't know you were so romantic, Parker"

"Shut your mouth."

"Make me"

"You are impossible."

"But obviously, you like"

 He was going to say something to nag you, he was looking for it but you caught him off guard, placing your lips on his again. You could feel his smile in the kiss and you couldn't help but do the same. Anyone living in the neighborhood present in the street would have a view of Spider-Man kissing the student cashier from Delmar. But you couldn't care less. You had waited too long and the joy you were feeling now was so intense, you didn't want to stop feeling this. It is reluctantly that Peter moved away from you apologizing for the fact that he had to go on patrol again.

 "Go save the Spider-Man neighborhood"

"Only if you promise me you'll be there when I get back."

"I was thinking of going to say goodnight to May instead ... But if you want, I have a sleeping bag in the storeroom."

"You are incorrigible .... See you later ..."

"See you later."

 You smiled, in a misty state of bliss as Peter disappeared from view. This time, you weren't planning to escape, you wanted to fall into the webs of Peter Parker. You closed the store after the police visit and headed to May's flat. It was late but with her kindness she welcomed you with open arms.

 This summer ... was the best in years but the others to come were going to be even more wonderful.

[vanosslirious]

BBS Dialogue Prompts #206

BBS Dialogue Prompts & Sentence Starters: [ 9 ]

SMII7Y

Do you want me to read to you?

Shit, I can't read, can you read this?

I never had that card, I was lying about that.

I'm reading a story on the fire.

Why did I hear myself?

Yeah, I ate all the food, that's why we're starving.

You literally almost got us killed.

We're actually nuts!

We just didn't appreciate it.

This has to be it.

I think it's broken, guys, nothing's working.

That was really aggressive.

As I was saying, please cry on my face.

We don't do that here.

You've been rolling with it ever since.

I'll finish him, I guess.

What are y'all talking about, and how do I get involved?

What is this fucking riddle you're throwing at us?

Well, he should've been better with his aim.

You know what, I hope you fucking die after that noise you just made.

NOGLA

I'm hanging tight, and so are all my friends.

That's the first thing you thought of?

My UberEats got fucking robbed.

Don't forget my strawberry milkshake.

If I go, will you open up a Pokémon pack with me?

You call this catering, my friend died!

Who the hell did this?

I shouldn't be laughing so hard, I'm a Christian, this is definitely blasphemy.

I was tired when I typed this.

I was sober for one day!

H2ODELIRIOUS

I have a damn stalker.

Guys, I found a door!

Don't say that!

We cheated, guys.

Don't come in here, guys, don't do it.

What did you just break?

Ah, kiss me!

I’m gonna let it play out.

Don’t bleed all over me.

Yes, go clean.

TERRORISER

It’s always been…

Keep doing that.

I got clubbed to death.

This is not funny by the way.

Let's make this ghost our bitch.

This is where you found me.

I hate your whistling!

When in doubt, get the glow sticks out.

All we heard was screaming in the distance.

One makes me money, the other spends it.

KRYOZ

I think mine's solid, but who's going to know?

Honestly, I like the company.

I don't know if we're actually running out of time, but it feels like it.

You make it sound so easy.

I'm gonna stand right here.

I need this most…you went the wrong way.

Let's be honest, it isn't fun if it's only this thing.

I'm pure positive today.

You guys really fucked that up.

Is that what you meant?

WILDCAT

I don’t think you got me out of there.

I did more as a piece of shit than you can as a real human.

Planting explosions until you guys get here, please hurry.

We’ll save you, just press the button.

You’re lucky to even be alive, what are you talking about?

Hold me and put me in the pod.

You’re so fucking dumb.

I can barely hear myself think, fuck you!

He bled everywhere!

You broke my leg, ow!

BASICALLYIDOWRK

Just die, kid.

We’re just floating.

You didn’t make it.

Why would you bring that mask in your house?

Bro, why is the cat staring at the wall?

I have an irrational fear of bunny rabbits.

I just want you to know, I hate you all.

You better still be there, I swear to God.

What does that mean?

There’s so many things to craft, where’s the little book?

MOO

I didn’t get anything either.

Can we kill these guys?

Just throwing things against the wall.

I feel like I'm in a box of lego's right now.

Okay, we gotta go deeper.

You guys just have to open your big mouths, didn't you?

I didn't know we were starting.

We lived.

This is going to be a long session.

Does this mean you like me, cause you want me in the video?

VANOSSGAMING

Aw, damn, back to this shit.

You went flying.

This is just to get the fucking teleporter open.

Look at him, he’s meditating.

Yes, get him, get him!

That’s the joke?

Who the fuck is this?

We’ll save you!

I just want to see, I don’t have any fucking torches.

What did you find, what did you find, what did you find?

[manybcdthings]

"I almost throat punched a mother and her children over the last one, Dominic. We're showing him the lego set." Felix stated as soon as he stepped into the Sinclair's apartment. It wasn't an exaggeration either. It had been awfully close, thanks to the overwhelming senses from the Hell that was Fifth Avenue, to reaching for the box at the same time as the mother, her children crying all while he battled with a hangover. Felix followed Dominic, with every intention to take the bag back from the Sinclair. Even if Henrik seemed far more enamored with a depressing French cartoon.

Before he reached the kitchen, Felix peered slightly to see what their nephew was doing, waving for Henrik's attention. The young boy simply waved a little hand in return, the other one shoving his face with fruit. "Hey, Hen. Are you having fun with the...doomed love story?" Oui. "...Parfait." Felix nodded and then was gone, blinking at Dominic trying to orchestrate him into becoming the server. "How much apple juice has he had already? Because kids his age shouldn't have more than 6 ounces." he stated dryly to Dominic while searching for where the Sinclair kept the glasses and cups. "I know what you're doing, you don't want to say no to the apple juice and be the bad guy. You want me to give it to him so Thea can't technically blame you for overdosing her child on sugar." Felix wagged a finger, abandoning the mission to grab the lego set from the counter. He swiftly breezed around Dominic back to the living room, shaking the box ever so slightly so the pieces caught the young boy's attention. "Henrik, look. We can make a better one, and this time Dom won't be allowed anywhere near it."

dominic's apartment felix & dominic

by the time felix is buzzed into the apartment, the millennium dillennium has been averted. there's nothing but peace and quiet through dominic's home, no tears, no tantrums. pure serenity. mainly due to the fact that an almost five year old is quite easy to distract, which dominic didn't realize was as easy as putting on a french cartoon for the little witch. henrik sits on the couch, no longer with a cold shoulder to his uncle as he snacks on some fruit pieces. that's the scene dominic gestures to with a shrug, taking the bag from felix. 'not really sure what to say, but thanks though.' he chuckles. 'kind of don't want him to see this...in case it starts him up again.' dominic adds, cutting into the kitchen instead of brandishing the huge lego set in front of henrik's face. 'help yourself.' dominic instructs felix with a flurrying gesture, because he certainly isn't going to serve him like a butler. 'hen, do you want anything? any more juice?' the sinclair calls to the living room and a little voice returns with oui s'il vous plait, jus de pomme causing dominic to wave his hand again at felix. 'that means apple juice.' he says, ushering the ranstromen into action as he places the huge lego box and bag on the side of the counter. 'oh, actually, i'll have some too.' @manybcdthings