#illness from eating chicke

[vocaltv]

क्या आप जानते हैं चिकन खाने से मौत हो सकती हैं!

  दोस्तों चिकन खाना कुछ लोगो को बहुत पसंद होता हैं लोग बड़े शौक से मांस-मटन खाते हैं. इन दिनों एक पोस्ट बहुत चर्चा का विषय बना हुआ हैं जिसमें यह दावा किया जा रहा हैं की चिकेन खाने से मौत हो सकती हैं. एक बट आपको बताना चाहूंगी की चिकन खाने से सीधे मौत होना अत्यधिक असंभव है। चिकन एक प्रमुख प्रोटीन स्रोत है और यह लोगों के आहार में आमतौर पर शामिल होता है। चिकन के साथ सम्बंधित खतरात आमतौर पर अन्य कारकों…

[glassrowboat]

Morning After

Authors note: This includes a variety of my own headcanons on these characters. The reader is gender neutral. This includes only the male harbingers, but I am willing to write one for the chicks too ^^

Capitano.

-The instant you stirred in your sleep, just the slightest twitch, and you were pinned to the mattress with a looming figure above you. His black hair tickled your skin, swaying back and forth from the sudden movement, but that was barely a concern when this man who had been so sweet with you last night was suddenly acting like a switch that flipped off in his brain. All you could tell was one discernable thing after the sudden surprise: there was no escape if he didn't want there to be.

-”Capitano?” You called out, voice hesitant and barely a whisper as fear choked back the ability to speak confidently.

-Immediately the tense nature that had over taken his form fell, shoulders no longer strung together as that soldier who had been pinning you down held you close and started apologizing for startling you.

-He didn't have to say it, he didn't want to, bit for a moment there the Captain had mistaken you for someone that crept into his chambers with ill intent. He's a soldier. War is what he's known for. This caution just comes with the territory.

-To make up for his own actions he makes sure you're well fed, given a hearty breakfast (one a little too big for you to fully eat but he doesn't mind giving you some Tupperware to take it home in) and tea.

-It's just he's a terrible conversationalist, barely talking as he just nods along to whatever you say, making you carry the flow the entire morning as he adds in an occasion “yes, interesting, or no.”

-At least he's handsome under that helmet.

Childe.

-Fell off the bed the moment he saw you, a shout falling from his lips from the surprise of the fall and well, this naked person in his bed.

-Why he didn't expect you to wake up and throw a pillow at his head for being so darn loud when you have a hangover? Well, only Celestia knows. Though he didn't bother to block it, simply accepted getting hit as it didn't even knock him back.. well that is if he didn't play along and dramatically fell down onto the floor.

-”Are you always such a drama queen?”

-”A guy can't play along with a joke?”

-Very sweet, but a little bit annoying as he asks about you in as many questions he can think of. What's your favorite color? What's your job?

-Admittedly Childe has never had a one night stand before so he doesn't know what to do in this position so when you give him a sweet smile and tell him to just to let you get dressed for now he goes to get a stray shirt for you.

-Definitely wants to see you again, and not just in the bedroom.

-”So where do you come from?”

-”Give me five minutes for fucks sake.”

Dottore.

-First off, what? He's aware each harbinger has their own little dedicated fan club, even him…for some reason. Yet for him to willingly bring someone, possibly one of them, to his bed? People aren't allowed in his personal quarters. Hell, he barely uses it himself, opting to sleep on that one couch in the laboratory. So why the switch in his normal behavioral patterns?

-(I personally see Dottore as a virgin so for this dweeb to lose it this way-)

-Admittedly, he's on edge from trying to remember what happened, the haze of sleep, and the shock of seeing someone he apparently trusted enough to bring to bed. It only made sense he was scowling at this sleeping body. It wouldn't be easy enough to just call it a new test subject, use the sheets as restraints to drag this stranger down to his lab and shove them in a cell but..

-Maybe not this time.

-Instead he gets up and throws on some clothes as quickly as possible, making sure to slot his mask in place despite the fact you have very obviously already seen what lies underneath. That and more.

-It has proven more useful than not to use that thing to hide his expressions.

- Depending on if he drank last night and that's what had him indulging in the warmth of another person's body, Dottore would have one of his clones stand by until you wake up. They can deal with the situation from there and take you home while he gets some caffeine in his body. An easy way to rid of a hangover and forget his newfound company.

-If it was a completely sober decision, Dottore no longer has the excuse that he simply got ahead of himself from the drink and would therefore be hostile in response. Unable to put up with this one bit, he would be telling his bed partner to get dressed and head home already so he can get back to work instead of watching over pointless little you.

-Don't try and say anything about possibly being emotionally attached, it would only anger him. Boy is not used to being open or vulnerable with anyone and you suddenly appearing and having held him so close last night would only set him off in the worst of ways.

Pantalone.

-First thing this man notices is he's just not as comfy as usual, somehow this mattress isn't right, he isn't sinking into the soft plush he spent thousands on. Not even his haze of grogginess was enough to make tossing and turning twist his body into comfort. (Goldilocks having motherfucker). So with a steady hand he reaches out to find his glasses on the nightstand, silver chains rattling on the surface as he pulls them close.

-A one night stand isn't an uncommon thing to the regrator, for him it's happened a small handful of times before but it's never something he's typically the better for in the morning. A man of his position caught slinking into a woman's bedroom as they drunkenly grope at eachother was far from a good look. Not to mention you never knew if the individual would keep their mouth shut.

-That has been a problem with one particular individual in the past that has henceforth been ‘dealt with.’

-But the person laying besides him was still conked out and wrapped in a good majority of the blankets the bedding had to offer. Well, a bit of a thief aren't they? Pantalone almost wanted to laugh but kept his mouth sealed shut, already knowing it's best not to wake you.

-Slowly he got up and out of the bed, trying to keep it from creaking too loudy, to put on last night's clothes. He'll take a shower and get changed into something clean later.

-With one last peak towards the stranger he spent the night with Pantalone slipped out of the front door.

Pierro.

-He's confused.

-Now he understands what happened, the sight of you naked and curled up into him is more than enough to make that clear; though your underwear basically on his favorite pillow definitely would have gotten the point across either way. But, like, him? You who look so much younger, livelier compared to what Pierro sees in the mirror every day after five hundred years haunting him.

-Maybe that joke the second made about people liking ‘older folks’ was based on reality.

-Would greedily allow himself to hold you in his arms for a time. It started with him first saying one minute, that's all he'd allow himself. Then that turned into five, then ten, then twenty. Eventually he would barely wish to nudge you awake even though he knows better.

-Don't go getting attached when there's so much left to do.

-When he finally did wake you up he did his best to make sure you wouldn't get startled, softly calling out the name he was given last night. It's just a shame you do, startling as your hand nearly wacked his face from sheer shock. (Though who can blame you? It's not everyday you blearliy open your eyes, vision still blurry as you take in a man with white hair and stars in his- wait is that the fucking Pierro? Oh fuck).

-The type to help you find your clothes and call for a cab so he knows you get home safely.

-Now all that's left is trying to figure out how to hide the hickey you planted on him.

Scaramouche.

-Let's be real here, you're not making it to the morning.

-He had no clue why he was allowing this, allowing a humans lips to fall to his own with such fevered need. In any other situation he'd be pushing them off, telling this person they're a useless worm that shouldn't ever have walked these lands if all they was going to do was use their life to paw at him. Oh but to worshipped was a delight.

-Kisses pressed to the wooden skin of his puppet body like small prayers to the God he will one day be. This is what humans are made for, aren't they? To give their all to a greater being. So readily Scaramouche let himself be tugged along as you pulled him to wherever you pleased, ready to lavish in the attention he so rarely got.

-A human isn't a threat after all.

-Yet when you tugged on his short, pulling them down just low enough for your mouth to eagerly await something filling it, everything took a turn for the worst.

-”Wait a minute, you don't have genitals?”

-And in a heartbeat you were struck with a bolt of lightning that had you dead on the spot.

[gamblersdoll]

yuji thought it was a good idea to invite megumi, gojo and choso to his apartment to introduce them to his new cute girlfriend.

it's a shame that after eating he receives a message from nanami saying that he needs his help with something.

but it's okay! yuji thinks this is a good opportunity for them to get to know her better! surely they would find a way to have a good time…but yuji didn't know that their fun would be in his bedroom.

he also didn't know that nanami doesn't really need his help. it's just that gojo was texting him during dinner to make yuji leave so they can spend time with his cute girl.

with the promise of sending a video of the meeting to nanami.

disclaimer: i do not do illegal ships. (gojo x yuuji for example.)

things were going good, really good.

yuuji finally landing himself a smoking hot chick, one that is everything he wants and needs. shit, probably fantasized about.

and what’s even better? he could introduce you to his friend, his old teacher, his big brother too! all in the same night, even better!

his thoughts are snapped back to reality, receiving a message from his old mentor, nanami. something about him needing help from yuuji.

“hey uh– ill be back! i promise!” he rushes, landing a kiss on your forehead and rushing out the door to be of use to kento.

he only hopes and prays that things go well without him there, knowing his older brother was skeptical of him out in the dating world.

he really hopes you have fun.

and fun did you have, wandering hands of different shapes and sizes invading your body.

“you know, yuuji really did luck up.” gojo says, keeping your arms held tight and him just kissing behind your neck. there was no doubt that, he was rock solid.

but then your attention is drawn to your lips being kissed by megumi, his hands on your hips from the side and only groaning. he palms his hardened cock, bumping it into your thigh more than once.

and oh, choso. he feels somewhat bad about touching his brothers girl, but damn was he a little too lucky. he spent most of his time trying not slip his dick into you, because a, you couldnt fit all of him in one sitting no doubt. and b, it was too soon, he wanted it just right.

this was too much, his old teacher, his brother, and his friend’s senses were all over you, only hoping that yuuji would walk in and they would all take his time with you.

but gojo couldnt forget the end of his deal. sending the best sensual touching (since kento was more attracted to sensual touches in foreplay) and said yuuji could come back. cleaning up after everyone, of course.

[afeelgoodblog]

The Best News of Last Week

⚡ - Charging Towards a More Electrifying Future

1. The Kissimmee River has been brought back to life—and wildlife is thriving

The Kissimmee River in Florida was straightened in the 1960s, causing a sharp decline in wildlife and ecological problems. But in the 1990s, a $1 billion restoration project was initiated to restore the river's natural state.

Today, nearly half of the river has been restored, wetlands have been reestablished and rehydrated, and wildlife has returned, including rare and threatened species. Already the biological impact of the project has become clear. As the wetlands have come back, so have the birds.

2. Plastic wrap made from seaweed withstands heat and is compostable

A cling film made from an invasive seaweed can withstand high temperatures yet is still easily compostable. The material could eventually become a sustainable choice for food packaging.

Scientists started with a brown seaweed called sargassum. Sargassum contains long, chain-like molecules similar to those that make up conventional plastic, which made it a good raw material. The researchers mixed it with some acids and salts to get a solution full of these molecules, then blended in chemicals that thickened it and made it more flexible and pliable.

3. An Eagle Who Adopted a Rock Becomes a Real Dad to Orphaned Eaglet

Murphy, a bald eagle that had been showing fatherly instincts, has been sharing an enclosure with an eaglet that survived a fall from a tree during a storm in Ste. Genevieve. Murphy, his rock gone by then, took his role as foster parent seriously. He soon began responding to the chick’s peeps, and protecting it.

And when, as a test, the keepers placed two plates of food in front of the birds — one containing food cut into pieces that the chick could eat by itself, and another with a whole fish that only Murphy could handle — the older bird tore up the fish and fed it to the eaglet.

4. World's largest battery maker announces major breakthrough in energy density

In one of the most significant battery breakthroughs in recent years, the world’s largest battery manufacturer CATL has announced a new “condensed” battery with 500 Wh/kg which it says will go into mass production this year.

“The launch of condensed batteries will usher in an era of universal electrification of sea, land and air transportation, open up more possibilities of the development of the industry, and promote the achieving of the global carbon neutrality goals at an earlier date,” the company said in a presentation at Auto Shanghai on Thursday.

This could be huge. Electric jets and cargo ships become very possible at this point.

5. Cat with '100% fatal' feline coronavirus saved by human Covid-19 medicine

A beloved household cat has made an “astonishing” recovery from a usually fatal illness, thanks to a drug made to treat Covid-19 in humans – and a quick-thinking vet.

Anya​, the 7-year-old birman cat, was suffering from feline infectious peritonitis (FIP), a “100% fatal” viral infection caused by feline coronavirus. That was, until Auckland vet Dr Habin Choi​ intervened, giving Anya an antiviral used to treat Covid-19 called molnupiravir.

6. Kelp forests capture nearly 5 million tonnes of CO2 annually

Kelp forests provide an estimated value of $500 billion to the world and capture 4.5 million tonnes of carbon dioxide from seawater each year. Most of kelp’s economic benefits come from creating habitat for fish and by sequestering nitrogen and phosphorus.

7. Medical Marijuana Improved Parkinson’s Disease Symptoms in 87% of Patients

Medical cannabis (MC) has recently garnered interest as a potential treatment for neurologic diseases, including Parkinson's disease (PD). 87% of patients were noted to exhibit an improvement in any PD symptom after starting medical cannabis. Symptoms with the highest incidence of improvement included cramping/dystonia, pain, spasticity, lack of appetite, dyskinesia, and tremor.

----

That's it for this week :)

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Also don’t forget to reblog

[icequeenbae]

Boy Next Door (m) Ch.3 | BBH

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader

Neighbor AU, slow burn, hurt/comfort, fluff, smut

Warnings: Baek being the neighbor we’re all dreaming of, harassment (nothing graphic), a bit of body image/ insecurity, MC sucks at relationships, explicit content, unprotected sex

Word Count: ~18.5k (total), 5.3k (pt.3)

Summary: Your neighbor Baekhyun has been a pleasant acquaintance since you moved into your current apartment almost a year ago. Could he also be… a perfect match?

© Please do not copy/ post on other platforms without permission.

Chapter Masterlist [ongoing]: Pt. 1 > Pt. 2 > Pt. 3 > Pt. 4 (fin)

Author’s note: Hiiii sweethearts!! I learned yesterday that my blog has earned 10k likes from you, so I decided that there was no better way to say thanks than to post part 3 of this story hehe Hope you like this little token of appreciation! 💕 And prepare thyselves, this is gonna be pretty intense 🔥🔥🔥

Tags: @bbh-net  @k-vanity  @ksmutsociety @lavnderluv @cupreoussyzygy @byunbaek-hyun-04

PART 3

‘I hate my life, Yu…’

‘Wow, haven’t heard that one before,’ your friend responded sarcastically.

‘I’m serious this time!’ You shrieked.

‘Stop yelling in my ear,’ she grumbled, shifting on the bed. ‘Your life sucks just ‘cause you’re too sensitive.’

You whined loudly, which couldn’t prevent her from continuing her lecture for the nth time.

‘I get that you were caught off guard. But who’s that chick to make such disgusting comments? I’m sure you looked hot as hell in his shirt, and she was jealous of you.’

‘Thanks, but you have no idea what she looked like…’

‘She probably isn’t even that pretty; you just thought she was in the spur of a moment. You get confused easily.’

‘No, I don’t! I can’t say her face is the prettiest I’ve seen, but she was dressed in expensive clothes, her hair seemed perfect, and she was skinny.’

‘Who cares? Is that why you’re not eating tteokbokki for the first time in your life??’

‘I’m not hungry,’ you groaned.

‘You’re always hungry! I’ve never seen you turn down street food! Can you at least eat the egg?’

‘Eat it yourself.’

Yuki gasped.

‘Are you sure you’re not terminally ill? Shall I call an ambulance?’ She asked and then shifted in place. ‘Or better yet… shall I call him?’

‘What? No!’ You almost pounced on your friend out of fear.

She was kidding, but you knew what she was capable of.

‘Y/N… It’s been a week. You can’t be avoiding him forever.’

‘I can. And I will.’

‘Come on! Why would you? It’s obvious from their convo that she isn’t his girlfriend, more like an annoying ex. If even that. Maybe she’s a stalker… So why are you retreating to your shell again?’

‘Because! What if she is his ex? I don’t think we’re exactly similar in any way, and if she is his type, then…’

‘Then what? Didn’t he mercilessly kick her out? So what exactly does she have on you?’

You sighed, turning away. It wasn’t that you were ugly or had low self-esteem. But people had their… preferences and beauty standards. And you imagined that guys like Baekhyun usually went for girls like her. Not the girls next door. It wasn’t as much about beauty as…

She just seemed more exciting. And you were anything but.

‘Just talk to him. Pretty sure the abundance of missed calls means that he wants to clear up the misunderstanding.’

‘Do you have soju?’

‘I’m not pouring you alcohol when you’ve been starving yourself for days! Besides, you have work tomorrow, don’t you?’

‘I thought I was the boring one,’ you grumbled, pouting at your friend.

Although you didn’t have a drop of anything, the next day at work was just as agonizing as the entire week prior. You were usually pretty happy about Fridays (with the whole weekend ahead), but you were in a sour mood this time. Going home meant getting anxious about running into your neighbor, and you hadn’t come up with what to tell him yet. So, the sooner the end of your working hours approached, the more uneasy you felt.

Baekhyun hadn’t tried calling or texting you today, and this was hardly a relief. Did he give up on you and your weird tantrums? Most likely. But then again, maybe it was for the best. This way, you wouldn’t have a chance to live in the world you’d imagined. At times, especially right before you went to sleep, you’d think back to the events of that day. And inevitably, the memories of the two of you making out on his couch would pop up in your head. Then the intruder barges in and looks down on you. Humiliating you with her comments in front of Baekhyun. Goosebumps marathoned across your body every time you recalled that. Especially your own pathetic reaction. Why didn’t you tell her off? Why did you suddenly feel so insecure?

Your desire to avoid going home was so strong that you ended up drinking with some of your colleagues at a bar. Secretly, you’d also hoped that alcohol would erase the unpleasant memories. And at least for a bit, you’d stop beating yourself up forever thinking you and Baekhyun could work. You were hurt many times when your exes left for someone, but the incident in his apartment was different. It was like a quick sneak peek into this situation, and you didn’t like how it made you feel. And it shouldn’t have affected you this way. You and Baekhyun weren’t even a thing.

But Yuki was definitely right about denying you access to alcohol. Too bad you were an adult with all the means to get as much of it as you desired.

‘Why is this button dancing around? It’s not supposed to move,’ you slurred out, unable to call the elevator. ‘Jinwoo-yah, it’s not working.’

‘Let me press it for you, Y/N-ssi.’

Your colleague leaned in, still holding you close to his side to prevent you from collapsing to the floor, and pressed the button. His ‘heroic’ action made you giggle.

‘Jinwoo-ya-ah, you’re the bestest!’

He snickered at your expressiveness and helped you inside the elevator.

‘Which floor?’

‘Thirteen.’ You giggled throughout the ride up, although you didn’t know what was funny about that number.

‘You’re in pretty bad shape, sunbae.’ He sighed, catching you when you almost tripped, walking out. ‘What’s your passcode?’

‘No-no-no!’ You shook your index finger in front of his nose. ‘I don’t tell all the pretty boys my passcode!’

Jinwoo looked at you helplessly, probably grasping that you were unable to actually press it in yourself.

And he was right. After about five minutes of you trying and failing, he suggested again.

‘Just tell me, and I’ll do it.’

‘Okay. It’s 3-2- no, 1-… 2-1-6… Wait. Was it?’ You were confused by your own thoughts now.

‘Y/N?’

You turned your head towards the voice.

‘Baekhyunie!’ You jumped on the spot and almost dropped yourself on the tile if not for your helpful colleague’s hands on your waist. ‘Do you remember my passcode? Jinwoo doesn’t know it…’

Baekhyun didn’t respond, scanning you and the man beside you.

‘What happened?’ He addressed the guy, earning a pout from you.

‘Our team was out, and she had too much soju on an empty stomach,’ he explained. ‘Tomorrow morning’s gonna be bad, so she should lie down ASAP. Do you know her passcode by any chance?’

‘No.’ Baekhyun answered. ‘But I’ll deal with her. You can go, thanks.’

Jinwoo was reluctant to let go of you.

‘Uh- wait. She’s really drunk. I don’t think I can just leave her-’

‘She’s been alone with me many times. Don’t worry about it.’ Baekhyun pierced your poor colleague with his eyes, gripping your waist.

‘Are you taking me home, oppa-yah? Can we make out on your couch again?’ You murmured, leaning into him.

‘Aish. You’re shameless.’ He chuckled, turning to Jinwoo, who was still by your side.

He was less sure that he needed to be there now.

‘I’ll… Uh- I’ll just go then. Take care!’ He blurted, nodding at Baekhyun before walking away.

‘Bye, Jin-jinwoo!’ You waved at him happily.

‘Come on in,’ Baekhyun shooed you into his apartment. ‘How did you even get this drunk…’

He crouched in front of you, helping you out of your shoes.

‘…and with a bunch of male colleagues, I’m sure. He can’t just leave you with me? Pfft!’ He kept grumbling as he almost carried you into the kitchen.

After making you drink some water, he brought you to the next destination – his bedroom.

‘Can you stand here while I change the sheets?’

‘No-ho!’ Your knees instantly grew weak, and you’d fall if not for Baekhyun’s hold.

‘Wow, your condition is worse than I thought. Let’s sit you down then.’

‘No! Don’t change them!’

He looked at you in bafflement.

‘You don’t want me to change the sheets?’

You closed your eyes, head too heavy to shake to indicate your answer.

‘I want… Baekhyunie’s sheets.’ You shoved him away, stumbling over nothing and falling onto his bed face first.

‘Y/N-ah…’ He sounded like he was about to scold you.

‘No. Baekhyunie’s sheets smell nice.’

‘The clean ones smell even nicer.’ He tried.

‘No. They don’t smell like oppa.’ You quipped, burying your nose in his pillow.

‘You like how oppa smells?’ He asked, lifting his eyebrows.

‘Yes. Comfy.’

‘Comfy?’

‘Yes. I like him. But he likes other type.’ You muttered in an injured tone.

‘Other type?’ He asked, sitting down on the bed next to you.

You ignored him at first, but he poked at your shoulder to get you to elaborate.

‘Mean skinny girls.’ You mumbled begrudgingly. ‘Not Y/N.’

‘You’re drunk. You should sleep,’ Baekhyun sighed, giving up on you.

He pulled the duvet from underneath your body to cover you with it. While he was busy tucking you in, you started sobbing.

‘Y/N? What is it, does anything hurt?’ He asked, voice growing alarmed from your sudden change of tune.

‘Why doesn’t oppa like me, though?’ You sniffled, hugging his pillow. ‘I know I’m not fun, but I like him so much…’

‘That’s just not true.’ He replied, stroking your hair gently. ‘Calm down. Sleep it off, and then we’ll talk, okay? Get comfortable, and I’ll take the couch.’

But you continued wetting his pillow with your drunken tears even more devotedly.

‘Are you gonna leave me alone? Is it because I’m not- You really don’t-’

‘Oh, Y/N…’

Baekhyun allowed you to tug him closer, basically lying down next to you. At once, you latched onto him, trading his pillow for his body without hesitation.

‘Don’t go,’ you bleated, holding onto him, head on his chest.

He sighed, arms slowly reciprocating your sudden embrace.

‘I’m not going anywhere, Y/N-ie. Oppa’s staying with you.’ He sounded reassuring, but you weren’t entirely convinced.

‘What if she comes again?’

‘No one will come.’

‘What if she does!’ You pressed.

‘Then I’ll tell her to go away. Because I like my Y/N-ie best,’ Baekhyun responded, and you could’ve only been more surprised if you were sober.

‘Me?’

‘Yes, you. Now, go to sleep, or I’ll relocate to the couch.’

‘No!’ With how sleepy you’d become, you were protesting to the latter rather than the former.

‘Shall I count to three?’

‘I’m asleep,’ you whispered, before adding in a tiny mischievous voice. ‘Oppa-yah.’

‘Tsk. Silly.’ He hummed softly, hugging you tighter.

It was warm and secure in Baekhyun’s arms. Comfy. You’d never dozed off so quickly and so peacefully.

***

The next morning was rough. No, it was brutal.

Took you several hours to simply wake up. On the first go, you couldn’t bring yourself to even open your eyes. It was still early, and your head hurt so much… Yelping like a puppy, you sank deeper into the sheets, breathing in more of the calming scent. Somehow, it lulled you right back to sleep.

The second time around though, you did fully wake. Although not for long: only long enough to notice a cup of water and a single pill that Baekhyun had already left for you on top of the nightstand. Taking a few gulps to wash it down, you dropped back and blacked out again.

By the third time you opened your eyes, the sun was so high in the sky that you could tell even though the curtains were closed. Your head was heavy, and your mouth tasted awful, but the headache was gone. Taking your time, you looked around the room, recalling how you got into, what you realized was, Baekhyun’s bed.

You sat up cautiously, rubbing your eyes to wake fully before noticing that your fingers were turning black.

‘Ah damn, my makeup!’ You cursed, nearly falling off the edge of the bed.

It was decided on the spot that you needed to move your bones to the bathroom before Baekhyun saw you in your hungover glory.

‘You just had to end up at his house,’ you gritted at yourself, walking to the bathroom door shakily.

Locking yourself in, you evaluated your appearance in the mirror.

‘Jesus Christ. My face is enormous!’

You almost cried. Did you have to look this awful? Surely, Baekhyun took notice of your extreme swelling and panda-inspired ruined mascara and left the bed as soon as possible.

‘Don’t go.’  Yesterday’s events were gradually coming back to you, brick by brick.

Did you beg him to stay in bed with you? He must have found you laughable. How could you even look him in the eye ever again?

You washed up as thoroughly as possible. As if any amount of face rubbing could decrease its puffiness to a bearable extent. Well, at least you got the remnants of your makeup off.

Unwilling to risk running into Baekhyun like this, you decided to be an audacious guest and use the shower, too. After all, you were sure you wouldn’t leave the apartment unnoticed. This way, you’d at least postpone the inevitable.

However, your oblivion only lasted long enough for you to finish up. Because as soon as you opened the door, you were met with the person you wanted to avoid at all costs.

‘God!’ You were startled and caught off guard.

‘It’s just me,’ Baekhyun shrugged, trying to ease the tension with a joke.

‘I- I’m sorry. For the inconvenience…s. I’ll be out of your hair in a second.’

You hurried to gather your things, but his hand prevented you from taking another step.

‘Why are you always fussing around?’ He asked, raising his eyebrows.

Unsure how to answer, you stayed silent. Baekhyun chuckled, thinking something to himself. Before you could ask what it was, he cleared his throat.

‘Let’s have breakfast. I made ramyeon; it’s great for hangovers.’

‘Uh- but-’

‘Do you have somewhere to be?’ He asked with an eye smile.

He was definitely amused. Probably because of your reprehensible performance yesterday.

‘Come on, you need to replenish your energy. Do you feel nauseous or dizzy?’

You muttered ‘no’ shyly, and he nodded.

‘Good. Let’s go then.’

While being dragged into the kitchen, you could only swear at yourself in your mind for your life choices.

‘I boiled a couple of eggs for you too. Do you want kimchi?’

You shook your head, frankly quite blown away by his forethought. He gave you a full bowl of noodles, placing the pot in the middle of the table.

‘Dig in.’

‘Thank you.’ Grabbing your chopsticks, you followed his suggestion.

Surprisingly, the ramyeon was spicy.

Slurping the noodles quickly, you realized how hungry you actually were. The bowl became empty in just a couple minutes.

‘Wow, I guess making four servings was the right choice,’ Baekhyun mused, removing the lid. ‘Have more.’

In the back of your mind, you still wondered why he made spicy ramyeon for you when he couldn’t eat spicy food that well himself.

Your second bowl went slower than the first, so you noticed how he observed you.

‘What?’ You asked, chewing on the egg.

‘Nothing,’ he smiled. ‘You’re eating well.’

You lowered your chopsticks, thinking about what he’d said. It was your first big and unhealthy meal this week, now that you were thinking of it. And maybe it was a good idea to slow down.

‘Why did you stop?’ Baekhyun asked, looking concerned.

Forcing out a small smile, you turned to him.

‘You’re right, I should cut down on it anyways.’

‘That’s not what I said,’ Baekhyun frowned, putting his chopsticks down. ‘But now I’ve come to think of it, that colleague of yours said something yesterday, too. That you drank on an empty stomach. Why?’

‘No reason,’ you mumbled, suddenly interested in the color of the broth.

He took his time inspecting your face, and you tried to ignore it.

‘Don’t tell me… Is it because of what she said?’

You dropped a chopstick you were still holding into your bowl with a loud clank, almost jumping out of your skin. How did he come to that conclusion? Were you that easy to figure out? Maybe you said something yesterday… What could that be?

‘I can literally read your thoughts on your face,’ Baekhyun sighed. ‘You really are silly, Y/N-ah…’

You pouted, saying nothing to this. Because you didn’t know what to say and also because you weren’t sure what he meant.

‘Hm. No one asked me, but… I like a girl with a healthy appetite,’ he said, tilting his head slightly to the side while his eyes kept watching you closely.

Meeting his gaze, you swallowed. The spicy ramyeon was making you sweat.

‘Makes me think she has a healthy appetite for everything. You know?’

Turning crimson, you bit down on your lower lip.

‘Now, you decide whose opinion resonates with you,’ Baekhyun added lightheartedly, returning to his meal as if nothing happened. ‘Wah, should’ve added cheese to it…’

Reluctantly, you picked up your chopsticks.

‘Can’t let it get soggy,’ you said unintelligibly.

Baekhyun gurgled out a laugh before slurping more of his noodles.

The day went by unfathomably fast since you had only finished your ‘breakfast’ in the late afternoon. Your neighbor’s hospitality made you feel at home (as usual), and you were already used to hanging out in his apartment for hours. And although you were too embarrassed to even think of looking Baekhyun in the eye, it had all cleared up somehow. He even managed to seduce you into staying for a few hours longer.

Most of that time you spent chilling on the couch, reducing his lemon ice-cream stock while he played video games. Which you enjoyed watching, actually. Despite having no clue about how to play them or what the goal was, you liked to be around when he played. He always seemed so focused and relaxed at the same time. You could tell that he was good at it, and he always made sure to win whenever you were watching.

However, by the time he was done, you noticed it was pretty late already.

‘Damn, I’m overstaying my welcome by far. You’re a perfect host,’ you chuckled sheepishly, scrambling off the couch to head to his bedroom to change back into your clothes and go home.

‘You can stay as long as you like. I don’t mind,’ Baekhyun murmured, following in your steps.

‘I can’t stay in your apartment forever, can I?’ You mused, turning to face him.

‘Can’t you?’ He deadpanned, approaching you steadily.

You searched his face in puzzlement, and he didn’t stop moving closer until there was less than half an arm’s length between your bodies.

‘What if you do?’ He asked softly, backing you into the wardrobe door. ‘You wanted oppa to stay with you yesterday. Aren’t you going to return the favor?’

He was referring to your drunken ravings, you were sure. Your cheeks heated up, and you swallowed to soothe your dry throat. Baekhyun was so close, and you had to hold yourself back to keep your hands off of him, his messy hair, broad shoulders, and loose sweats.

‘I wonder if you only said that because you were inebriated… Or…’ He trailed off, leaning on the door behind you.

‘Stop…’ You whispered, unable to withstand his slow seduction.

Baekhyun paused, a breath away from your face, and straightened up slightly, allowing more space between you.

‘… beating around the bush.’ You finished, firmer this time, and looked up at him.

There was no need to ask him to do anything. He pressed his lips to yours with zero hesitation, and you were ready to welcome his initiative. Sliding your palms up his arms, you squeezed and hugged his shoulders, using them for balance. Baekhyun’s hands pulled you closer until your body was flat against his, and you could feel the heat of his skin on yours through the fabric of your (actually, his) shirt.

He groaned into the kiss as you slipped one hand under his clothes to trace your fingers from his lower back. The muscles flexed under your touch, and you felt more pressure against your chest. He pushed you into his body firmly, and you couldn’t think of anything but how much you wanted this to be skin-to-skin contact.

Baekhyun, as if reading your mind, backed away just to allow you to roll his shirt up and get it off. Your eyes examined his bare waist greedily, memorizing each line and each mole. He interrupted you by occupying your mouth again, and you let him do as he pleased, trailing your palms down his chest. Happy to investigate, you allowed your fingers to wander around everywhere, exploring his beautiful body.

As your hands reached his lower abdomen, however, you were interrupted by the loud ringing of his phone in his pants pocket.

‘Damn it.’ He cursed under his breath, almost pissed off by the unnecessary pause. ‘Hold that thought.’

He looked at the screen and sighed, seeing that the number was unknown.

‘Yes, hello?’ He responded, voice mildly annoyed.

Someone spoke on the other end, and he frowned.

‘Who is this?’

Baekhyun fell silent for a couple seconds and then rolled his eyes.

‘How did you get my number?’

The caller’s voice was faint, but it seemed familiar… Was it that woman again?

Suddenly, you were straining your ears to hear what she was saying.

‘…couldn’t enter, and I brought dinner for us!’

She did what?!

You looked at Baekhyun, who stepped away and turned his back to you.

‘I’m not sure why you thought it was a good idea. But I did blacklist you in my apartment complex because you enjoy invading my privacy.’

At least your neighbor didn’t want her here; that was a relief. What bothered you was that he was still on the phone with her. In his bedroom, half-naked, and with you on hold. In your mind, this wasn’t at all an ideal scenario.

And tonight, you were in the mood to make it known.

So, you crawled into bed and took his shirt off, crumpling it into a ball of fabric and throwing it at his back. Baekhyun turned around, finding the item on the floor and staring at it momentarily. His eyes darted up to discover that you were in his bed, almost fully naked, with just the blanket held up to your chest covering you. His tense expression promptly changed into one of playful anticipation.

‘Um- I’m busy right now. Please go home and don’t bother me again. Bye.’

He said the last word with his knee on the bed, and you snatched his phone out of his hand as soon as he ended the call. Picking up exactly where you’d left off, you resumed kissing, only to be interrupted by the buzz of his phone on the pillow again. You growled in irritation.

‘Let me block her.’ Baekhyun said, kissing your neck while reaching for the device.

But you grabbed it first.

‘Are you desperate, or is your hearing impaired? Stop calling him.’

Ending it before she could say anything, you quickly blocked the number, switched the sound off, and got rid of his phone. Turning back, you noticed Baekhyun’s unyielding gaze.

‘What?’ You barked.

‘Nothing,’ he shook his head, seemingly holding back a smile. ‘I’m just surprised.’

‘By?’

‘How vicious you are when you’re jealous. In a sexy kind of way.’

You huffed, reasoning with him like a five-year-old would.

‘I’m not jealous! She can’t set foot in the area, and I freaking live next door.’

‘Right.’

His teasing tone made you even more determined, so you pushed him down to lie on his back, and got on top.

‘What do I need to be jealous of? I got you right here.’

‘Oh yeah, you got me good.’

Spurred on further, you narrowed your eyes at your mildly infuriating neighbor before finding his pants and ripping them off of him. Just to realize that he wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

Meanwhile, Baekhyun wasn’t at all fazed by your brazen actions. In fact, he was noticeably aroused by them, which you could tell from the way he watched you with half-lidded eyes.

‘Now what?’ He asked, still lying down comfortably and enjoying the show. ‘Gonna ride me raw?’

‘Yes.’ You shot out without thinking, earning an eyebrow raise from him, and settled on his thighs. ‘Gonna keep mocking me?’

‘Yes.’ He mirrored, long fingers traveling up your thighs to get a good hold of your hips and push you down slightly.

The friction between your bodies made him hiss, the thin and slightly damp fabric of your panties grazing over his bare cock.

‘Shit, Y/N.’

It was finally your turn to be smug.

‘I thought you didn’t swear in front of ladies?’

He let out a short laugh, letting you know he was onto you.

‘I actually swear a lot,’ he admitted, smirking at you as he continued. ‘When I’m angry, when I’m surprised… When I really wanna fuck Y/N.’

You dragged your hips over his in retaliation, causing him to grunt. His hands made your movements more confident and consistent, and you could feel the glide of his skin with your core as you moved back and forth. It was pleasant, but you knew it would be much better without that last layer between you.

While you were thinking it through, Baekhyun’s eyes were glued to your body. One of his hands reached for your breast to squeeze lightly, testing your sensitivity, and you put your palm on top of it to ensure he wouldn’t retract.

‘You’re so… soft,’ he stated, chest flailing. ‘Does it hurt?’

‘No. My breasts aren’t overly sensitive to that type of touch. Ow!’ You instantly reacted when he pinched you.

‘Your nipples seem sensitive to me,’ he hummed, tugging you close enough to kiss your exposed nub quickly. ‘What type of touch, though… Maybe this?’

A quick lick made you whine, startled by the explosion of warmth in your lower belly. However, Baekhyun quickly caught on to your reactions, so he opted to suck your perky nipple into his mouth to fondle it gently. You shivered, fingers diving into his hair and pulling at the roots.

‘Mm, Baekhyun-n-’ He ignored your cry, tongue still swirling around the tiny area while his eyes studied your face. ‘God- damn you.’

He released it slowly, licking his sufficiently wet lips afterward.

‘Shall I move on to the other one?’ He inquired with a ghost of a smile on his face, noting how quickly he was making you disintegrate with simple petting.

‘Wait!’ You pressed on his chest to have him lie back.

The further delay seemed impossible. Reaching down, you quickly moved your panties out of the way and pressed the tip of his fully hard cock to your leaking entrance. Your fingers were instantly slick with your own arousal, and Baekhyun could only groan as he slipped inside you effortlessly. His hips jerked voluntarily, and you yelped at the intense yet welcomed sensation.

‘Sorry… Couldn’t help it.’ Your lover’s hand patted your thigh apologetically, and you shook your head.

‘Just- give me a second,’ you muttered, clenching down on him. ‘It’s been a while…’

He stroked your thigh up and down for a bit, probably reining his desires in. You could feel the twitch of his length in a tight lock of your walls.

Seeing something in your eyes, Baekhyun moved to sit up with you still in his lap. You met him halfway, finding his lips already waiting for yours. The kiss was deep and slow, accompanied by the caress of his hands on your back and waist. You were so consumed by it that you didn’t even notice when your hips started rocking.

But your hunger grew exponentially, and just minutes later the leisured pace couldn’t keep you satisfied anymore.

‘Baekhyun,’ you whined, too overwhelmed and loved-up in your chase after pleasure.

Holding on to his firm shoulders, you threw your head back. He continued pressing kisses into the damp skin of your chest, kneading your ass with one of his hands simultaneously. The position wasn’t the most convenient, but the affection you received was worth every strain on your muscles.

‘Baekhyun, please…’ You sobbed the anticipation building and slipping out of grasp again.

Somehow, he understood what your plea implied. It was time for him to take charge, and you were ready to give him the opportunity to do so.

And it seemed like he was only waiting for the opening.

Your partner was quick to fling you onto the bed. Before you knew it, your panties were on the floor, and he was between your legs, spreading them wider. His first thrust made you whimper with its steadiness and intensity, and so did the second and the third.

‘I got you, baby.’ His voice seemed lower, void of teasing now and laced with fondness and passion.

‘Mmh-’ You arched your back, thighs quivering in pleasure around his middle.

‘Fuck,’ he swore, enduring your tightness and going hard to bring you to your release as fast as possible. ‘Fuck, Y/N-ie…’

‘B-Baekhyun…’ You hiccupped while he reached the spots inside you that made your eyes roll backward. ‘I’m close…’

Your hand slipped down his sweaty back, and the pounding became so precise that you felt tears prick your eyes.

‘Mm-baby, you need to come,’ Baekhyun growled into your ear, breathing heavily. ‘You’re too fucking tight.’

Shrieking as if in pain, you clawed at his shoulder to keep him in place, still teetering on the edge of your release.

‘Ah- yes, yes,’ You cried out as he gave you his all, bottoming out each time, sweat running down his face. ‘Baekhyun!’

His hold on you became rigid while you writhed through your high. He slowed down and kept jerking his hips forward to allow you to milk every drop of your pleasure until you couldn’t take it anymore. Both of your breathing was loud and labored, and it took you some time to be fully reinstated in reality. Slowly, the sensory feedback deciphered, and you noticed how sweaty you were. It was also still slick and swollen between your legs. In fact, you seemed to all be covered in bodily fluids, but that couldn’t detract from your level of satisfaction.

‘Wow,’ you heard Baekhyun say from beside you. ‘I really risked it all for this. Hey, was it worth it?’

You blinked at him several times, brain too slow to catch his meaning.

‘Your orgasm,’ he added, snorting at your absentmindedness. ‘I barely managed to pull out on time.’

Smiling weakly at his statement, you licked your dry lips.

‘I’m glad you have so much more willpower than me…’ You flinched as he wiped his cum off your lower belly before pulling the covers over you.

‘What willpower? I’ve never had so little.’ Baekhyun hummed, moving closer to you and invading your pillow. ‘I don’t have sex without condoms. And I generally last longer, but you almost made me bust a nut before you.’

‘Oh damn, I feel special,’ you chuckled, loving how his fingers caressed your face while brushing your hair back.

‘You are, Y/N-ie,’ he murmured, leaning in and kissing you. ‘I assume round two is for later?’

‘Later??’

‘I’ll give you till morning,’ he suggested playfully.

‘I need to shower first. And rest.’

‘Why do all that when you can just come again?’

‘Stop talking like that, or I will marry you.’ You fired at him, squirming under the influence of his affectionate touching.

‘Great thinking. Then I won’t have to pull out.’

You gasped, causing him to laugh.

‘It’s alright. We’re only a bit too young to become parents. But you know, my hyung was younger than me when he became a father. That was by accident, though.’ He paused for a second. ‘Come to think of it, I’m not a big expert on pulling out, so who knows how it’s gonna-’

‘Baekhyun?’

‘Hm?’

‘Shut up.’

Masterlist

A/N: Okay, here goes!! Just another installment left to finish this mini-series, how are we feeling?? Hehe As usual, big thanks for your messages and comments, I appreciate all of the feedback from you my darlings💜💜💜

[fandonnavyce]

Jason in Wonderland - Part 3

Who Are You?

Part 1, Part 2, AO3

“Not all who wander are lost.” Gotham smiled. It was cruel. It was uncaring. It was welcoming.

“A̵̍̑͜r̶̞̳͋e ̸͍͜͝ÿ̶̢̥́o̸u No̸̖̯̽t̴͘ Họ̸̅̅m̸̿ẻ̸̩͘?̷̅ M̴̢͙̜͇͓̂̑̉͝͝¥̶̖͙͖͇̳̃̿͑́͠ Sð̶͓͚̟̟͚͗̅̃̋̒ñ̸(Mine, mine, MINE)(My-Twice-Born)(My Red Knight)(My Beloved Bloody Butcherbird).”

“Your Son?” Jason tasted the name, the title, on the tip of his tongue.

Gotham smiled. Gleaming white teeth, straight and perfect, sparkled. ‘Dangerous’, Jason's instincts murmured.

“My Dear Robin,” she called.

Jason blanched.

“I am Not Robin.”

Gotham smirked.

“I am Not Robin,” Jason protested vehemently. Gotham gave an arched brow.

“My Son, My Robin, My Knight. Blood Red Shrike, Redbreast Bright. My Son, My Robin, My Knight.”

Gotham sang.

“O’ Robin. Wast Robin not borne from mine own very flesh? Didst thee not nurse on mine own blood and tears, teethed on mine own bones. Sleepeth and swaddled under mine own night skies blanket? Hath I not raised Robin on mine own streets?

O’ Robin. Didst Robin’s first steps not tread in milk-teeth sneakers upon mine own broken back? First words not chirped to mine own visage, in mine own ears With a chick’s cheeping?

O’ Robin.

With downy feathers of red, green, and gold didst Robin’s first flight not beginneth                      with a leap into mine own arms?

And after thee wast Lost to me on distant shores Forsaken Son, didst thee not Returneth to me? Thou art Walk Against Death as my Red Knight When you crawled out from Death’s Hold and Birthed yourself from my soil bed Wast thee not then Born Again? O’ My Darling Robin

O’ Son of Gotham Son of Catherine, Son of Sheila, Son of Willis, Son of Bruce, Scion of Alfred, Scion of Wayne. Jason Peter Todd, Gotham runs in thy veins. It’s in thy blood. I’m in the marrow of thy bones. Tis in thy DNA

If You, who left and returned to my bosom, If You, with me in your lungs, vanquishes those that prey on the humblest, are not My Robin then… Who Are You?

If ye, Who didst turn a Circus Child’s erstwhile boots and infant wings Into a Gotham Legacy, art not Robin mine then…

Ẃ̸̰h̵̞͎̓̔o̷̪͌̀ Aṛ̴̽t̷̛̖͉̾ T̴̩͍̿ḫ̴̇o̷̙̼̔ù̸̜̊?”

Jason’s mind blanked. Suddenly Red Hood, a name Jason had ripped off that blight on Gotham. That he wore second-hand. That he executed, ruled, and governed with, suddenly seemed ill-fitting, (too small) and unsuited (wretched) relative to everything else he had been. Bright, Wonderful, Magic. (I’m Robin and being Robin gives me Magic)

“I, I, I hardly know” Jason replied. “But I know I'm much changed from then, since when I was Robin.”

“What do you mean by that? Explain yourself Ṙ̵̳͊ob̵͛͝ḯ̵̙͕̍n.”

Jason shook his head. “I can't explain Myself beyond that I'm hardly Robin anymore. I don't even know how I, myself, came back from Death, you see.”

“I don't see,” said Gotham.

To Gotham, Robin was Robin was Robin was Robin was Robin.

“I'm afraid I can't put it more clearly.” Jason answered politely, “I don't understand Myself. Only that being so different is maddening.”

“It is not,” said Gotham. A Spirit born from the minds of thousands across generations; Gotham was Gotham was Gotham, no matter the skin or time the City wears.

“Surely, being like one kind of person then being like a totally different kind, whilst still being treated like they're the same. Is that not strange?”

“No.”

Jason scowled, frustrated at his failure to get his point across, and at Gotham’s refusal to see his way.

“Robin died!” Jason ground out, “Robin died with broken wings, a busted skull, choking on smoke, and with fire eating away at my flesh.” Jason gasped for air, “Robin died! And when I came back, I wasn’t Robin, I WAS MAD!!!”

Doubling over, Jason keened. His throat choked. His skin itched. His chest burned. Frustrated, desperate fingers clutched and dug for absent relief. His head SCREAMED!

Then he felt a gentle kiss upon his brow. A Mother’s Benediction. Jason gasped. Frantically, he rubbed away the welling tears of relief at the sudden calm.

“What was that?!” Jason demanded in quiet, seething, wide-eyed disbelief.

“You seemed to have developed a hypersensitive autoimmune response. Recollections of your demise seemed to have triggered an anaphylactic shock on an ectobiological scale. Your hybrid ectobiology are causing seizures that are, despite overt superficial similarities, of a state atypical of a Ghost’s Death Day because of- ”

“Speak plain english!” cried the Butcherbird to his Lady Gotham. “I don’t know the meaning of half those long words, and, what’s more, I don’t believe you do either!” Jason breathed heavily in the silence. Gotham’s eyes are hooded, as garnet hair flutters and writhes upon her bare shoulders.

“You had an allergic reaction. At the very core of you.” Then with a wave of her black gloved hand, the scene blurs.

...

Jason stands on a rooftop with a gargoyle for company and two others:

Gotham’s Dark Knight and Robin Boy Wonder.

The Dark Knight is an amorphous spiked shadow-blob from the neck down and a facsimile of a horned shadowy head with a pair of white beaming eyes from the neck up.

Boy Wonder meanwhile is a five foot nothing dark haired kid dressed in a colourful top, a bright yellow cape, and green booty shorts with matching pixie boots. His indistinct youthful features behind the domino mask place him anywhere between the ages of 8 and twice that.

“Holy macaroni, you’re in rough shape!”

“Hmm”

Jason blue-screens.

“Did we break his brain?”

“Hnn”

“Should we-”

“Who are you?” Jason interrupted. Jason already knew. But he just wanted them to say it.

Whispers rasped from the rustling wind.

  “I am Vengeance . I am The Night .”

  The Dark Knight’s shroud flared to impossible, intimidating heights.

 “ I’m Batman.” 

Jason felt his skin break out into goosebumps as he stared up into the night sky dominated by Gotham’s Dark Knight.

“AND I'M ROBIN!”

Like a bright firework bang, Robin shone high in the sky.

Fwip, fwip, fwip, fwip.

An iconic dazzling quadruple flip splashed against the sky. Robin gracefully danced with gravity to finish with a beautiful descent. The moves were Dick Grayson.

But that was a rough Gotham brogue - kenned from the mouths of street alley rats.

[je5hko]

~ Beavis and Butthead headcanons!~

okay so i decided ill will post bnbh headcanons from time to time when im not posting art. The headcanons are random btw

TW: GAY PPL(/j), ANGST, GROSS STUFF, ABUSE, HOMOPHOBIA

Beavis eats his boogers, while Butthead has his own personal booger wall (behind the couch)

When they were kids, they would try to cheer each other up/ distract each other from their mothers yelling by making funny faces! Occasionally they would tickle each other as well!

Buttheads mother was absent most of the time, but when she was around she would ignore him. Refusing to believe he was her son. She would even tell him to stop calling her mom. (sobbing afterwards) But whenever Butthead cried, he received a slap on the face. "You are not allowed to cry” or "I’ll give you a reason to cry if you don’t shut up” is all she would say after hitting him. He quickly learned that expressing emotions is wrong, so he simply stopped.

Shirley on the other hand, would look after both of the kids. She was far from being a perfect mother, but there were times she would try to take care of them apart of being drunk all day. For example she occasionally would take them out to eat junk food, give them small presents like cheap action figures, making a vague attempt at showing affection. Basically trying her best at motherhood, but besides that she would often yell at them (mostly Beavis) slap them when they did something wrong etc.

Butthead was the one to learn basic hygiene even though he wasn’t a big fan of it, while Beavis struggled with it as fuck. The blonde would often use the sink/ bathtub instead of toilet, not bothering to clean after himself.

At 17 they tried to give each other stick and pokes. They ended up getting infections with the pen ink and rusty needle.

There are moments when their faces get too close, like when they're both trying to look at something on the TV or sharing a snack. Butt-Head gets flustered and pushes Beavis away, muttering something about personal space.

Sometimes Butt-Head finds himself wanting to do something nice for Beavis, like sharing his nachos or letting him choose what to watch on TV. When this happens, Butt-Head angrily tells himself to "stop being a wuss."

Beavis sometimes finds himself doing little things for Butt-Head, like saving the last chip for him or instinctively waiting for him before going anywhere. He doesn’t know why it feels important to do these things.

Butt-Head often convinces himself that whatever he’s feeling is just a phase or a result of being around Beavis too much, so he starts suggesting they hang out with others more often, though it never actually happens.

Beavis feels a strange sense of comfort when he’s sitting next to Butt-Head, often leaning in a little closer without realizing it. Butt-Head notices and tells him to back off, but deep down he doesn’t really mind.

Butt-Head is more aggressive in trying to pick up chicks than usual, using it as a way to distract himself from his growing feelings for Beavis. He convinces himself that if he gets a girlfriend, these feelings will go away.

Neither of them ever wears matching socks, not because they’re trying to be cool, but because they’ve lost so many pairs.

Butt-Head once wore the same pair of socks for two weeks straight just to see how bad they could smell. He proudly showed them to Beavis, who gagged but couldn’t stop sniffing out of morbid curiosity.

Butt-Head refuses to wash his hair more than once a month because he believes the grease gives him “natural style.” Beavis agrees.

There’s a cup in their room that has had mold growing in it for so long that it’s practically become a pet. They named the mold “Squishy” and take turns seeing who can get closest to it without gagging

They have a secret handshake that’s a combination of a high five, fist bump, and a quick flick of the middle finger, which they think is the coolest thing ever

Beavis and Butt-Head have an odd fascination with roadkill. They’ll sometimes poke at it with sticks or laugh about how “cool” it is.

Beavis sometimes wishes he was more confident like Butt-Head, not realizing that Butt-Head is just as insecure as he is but hides it better.

Beavis suffers from recurring nightmares about losing Butt-Head, being abandoned, or his mother. He tries to mask his fear with jokes, but these dreams deeply affect him.

They both have a subtle, unspoken agreement to look out for one another. When one is sick or down, the other steps in to offer support in their own way, whether it’s through humor or practical help

Beavis has a penchant for combining disgusting food items, like mixing pickles with peanut butter or dipping hot dogs in ketchup and ice cream. He genuinely enjoys these bizarre concoctions.

[divinelolita]

Hello! I love your writing so much, you saved me with the x male reader 🙏🏻 I was wondering if you could do one where Bill is always denying his sexuality. Like, reader already has feelings for him and Bill likes reader too but tries to push it away and in an interview Bill gets asked about liking men and he's like "of course I don't, it would be a waste for all the pretty girls" and stuff, just like that one interview and reader is kinda hurt. But when they get back to the tour bus and they all fall asleep, reader wakes up late at night and walks up to Bill crying and when he asks him what's wrong Bill expresses his fears and that he just wants to be loved for who he is and don't feel ashamed about it (already crying omg 😭) and then reader gets the opportunity and tells him about how he feels about Bill. In the beginning Bill denies it like, "no you can't love me, why me?" and insecurities and stuff but at the end reader kisses him and Bill gives in and then end up sleeping in each other's arms, Bill being the small spoon you know 😩 I hope you like the idea! Thank you so much!!

BILL X READER: INTERNALIZED HOMOPHOBIA

hii love! im so glad you like my writing 🤞😻 ewwwahh it gets corny during the confession part but erm..

"Let's welcome Tokio Hotel, ladies and gentlemen!"

Bill wanted to puke as he heard those words, hearing all the fangirls and boys scream and squeal like guinea pigs. His stomach curled and he actually felt sick. Oh god, was it too late to cancel an interview? He just wanted to go back to the tour bus, to just sit and watch TV..put on one of M/N's favorite shows and eat snacks and.. -

"Bill, c'mon let's go! We'll follow you out." Tom hissed, patting his brother on the shoulder with a small push. The dreadhead paused, about to ask if Bill was feeling okay, because he looked ill and slightly more pale than usual, but Bill had already began to walk out from the curtains, praying to whatever god was out there he wouldn't trip. M/N followed shortly behind, giving Bill a smile when he looked over his shoulder with a fearful expression.

Bill sat down in the black chair on the stage, listening to the roars and claps of fans come from the space before him. He looked over at M/N, feeling his heart beat quicken. He really did like interviews sometimes, but actually sitting down infront of thousands of people was enough stress to make him go into tears. Although, as he looked at M/N, all his nervousness and anxiety slowly melted away with a small smile, accompanied with a pat to his shoulder. "We got this Bill, it's just like every other time."

He comforted, not looking away until Bill gave a soft nod and grin, thanking the boy under his breath as the applauds slowly died out. He turned his attention to the interviewer infront of them, an older man with greyish-blonde hair. Bill quite liked his tuxedo, he wondered if he could buy the same. His heart skipped a beat as the interviewer cleared his throat, folding his hands as he looked at all the band members.

"Ah..It's so nice to have you guys here!" The interviewer grinned. Oh god, the roars started up again, whistling and hoots coming from the crowd. The band could only smile and laugh, giving nods as they answered "Its great to be here." although it could barley be heard. As soon as the cheers died down again, the interviewer continued. "Hmm, there are a lot of people here. Why don't you all introduce yourself?"

Why oh why? Didn't everybody already know their names? Why did he have to introduce himself? Why why why why-

"I'm Bill Kaulitz. Singer." he smiled, looking over at the camera infront of them.

"Tom Kaulitz. Guitarist.."

"Georg Listing, I'm the bassist."

"Gustav Schäfer. Drums!"

"...M/N. Bassist aswell."

The crowd whooped inbetween everybody, which was starting to get old for Bill. Tom probably didn't mind, his twin watched as the brunette was looking off into the crowd, most likely at some hot chick. Bil resisted the urge to roll his eyes, he didn't want that on TV.

Bill sat nervously, on the edge of his seat as he saw how the interviewer glanced down at his notes before directly looking at Bill himself. "Mm.. Let's start with you Bill, yes?" God no. No thank you, anybody else start please.... "Yeah, why not?" Bill gave a small chuckle as he fixed his posture slightly. He braced himself, heart thumping as he stopped all movements as he began to ponder what the question would be. Oh no.. Please no.

His heart stopped as the interviewer leaned in with a sly smile, squinting his eyes slightly almost as if he was taunting Bill. "So, Bill," he began, taking a second to look at the crowd before continuing, "There's been some rumors squirming about your sexuality, as you might have heard due to the makeup and clothing...care to set the record straight?" Oh.

The crowd was uncomfortably quiet, looking at Bill with piercing eyes waiting for his response. Bill could feel the looks his band members were sending him, even Tom was looking directly at him with a quirked eyebrow. Bill cleared his throat, his mouth going dry as he felt his heart beat quicken. "Oh, no, no, no. I'm definitely not gay...would be a waste to all the girls don't 'cha think?" he responded, trying to ease the air. He nearly let out a relieved sigh as he heart the audience laugh a bit and clap.

He got the courage to look at his band members, but they didn't seem to care. Tom gave Bill a soft nod before returning his gaze to the audience. Georg gave a small smile and Gustav Rose his eyebrows for a second before letting them go back down, now looking at the interviewer awaiting the next question. As Bill looked at M/N, he expected him to at least give a soft grin, but no. He gave him a weird look...a look mixed with emotions Bil couldn't distinguish. He almost looked..sad? A tad bit hurt?

M/N could only clench his fists, blinking back tears threatening to fall. His heart sank deeper and deeper with each word Bill had spoken, and he felt like he was being stabbed repeatedly. He felt as if Bil was holding back- hell he knew he was lying. He knew Bill better than anyone. Okay..maybe not better than Tom. But he just knew something wasn't right.

Bil could only sigh as he leaned backinto hi seat, trying to ignore the thoughts he had about possibly angering M/N. He didn't intend to make him sad! Or hurt. Or whatever the hell he was...

Why was he so..upset?

---

Bill stammered back into the tour bus with a groan, barley making it to the couch. He plopped himself down, not bothering to take off his makeup. He heard a soft laugh from Tom as his brother put a hand to his forehead, checking if he was ill or overheated. He could make out a faint command come from his brother, yet didn't respond until the third time he said it. "Take off your jacket, you'll get too hot." he stayed motionless for a moment before removing the leather piece of clothing, taking it to the bunk beds as he threw it down next to his bunk. He pulled off his shoes and got into his bed, his hair still spikey and hard with hairspray.

M/N didn't really talk as the tour bus drove on, giving a soft smile to Georg when he had been told he was very well-spoken during the interview. He barley talked as he ate dinner, twirling the pasta on his fork as he spaced out, being reminded by Tom it would be cold if he didn't eat it. He glanced over at the unopened container of pasta, having the word 'Bill' written in chicken-scratch-like writing.

Then he glanced back at where Bill was laying down, how he could hear soft snores and shuffles come from the bunk. He felt a pang in his heart as he thought about just how beautiful Bill was today, how his makeup was more perfect than usual and how his clothes stood out. How his hair looked so gorgeous and how black his fingernails were.

How was it possible to be so amazing? He has always wondered whenever he glanced at the singer. Whenever he took a peak at Bill he couldn't pull his gaze away, mesmerized by the beauty infront of him. He just..loved Bill so much. Yet Bill didn't like boys, according to him. No, he liked girls.

M/N didn't speak for the rest of the night, going straight to bed shortly after he finished the last of his spaghetti.

--

M/N groaned as he suddenly awoke, his shoulders hurt and he couldn't move his legs for a few seconds. He turned to the other side of his bed, smiling when he became comfortable again. He muzzled into the blanket slightly as he sighed, looking forward to sleeping again. Until he heard a small sniffle. He tossed his head lazily over his shoulder, wincing as he pulled the muscle. The air was quiet, accompanied by the occasional snores coming from Gustav.

M/N ignored this, letting his head fall back down as he closed his eyes once more. He felt so good, he was so comfortable and he was so warm. He felt himself start to lose consciousness, hearing nothing but the faint beat of his heart in his pillow, and then another sniffle was heard. This time with a small sob attached to the end. He heard shaky breathes come from somebodies bunk, yet it was too high pitched to be Georg. Who would be crying right now...

"Bill?" M/N whispered hoarsly, his voice raspy and quiet due to just waking up. He listened to how the noises stopped the moment he said something, how the shuffling had instantly paused. He took a second to think if he was really gonna get out of bed. He was so damn comfortable, he was in the perfect position and...

M/N slowly got out of bed, wincing as his legs nearly gave out on him. He stood for a second, stretching, before he walked over to Bills bunk, the curtain covering his bed. He awkwardly stood there before whispering another soft "Bill.."

This time he asked, he heard another shaky breath followed by a sniffle. M/N hesitantly reached his hand out, pulling at the curtain softly. There Bill sat, knees up to his chest and his arms holding them even closer. His head was perched on his kneecaps as soft tears went down his face, down his cheeks and onto his neck and shirt. M/N took a second before he sat down next to his friend, attempting to comfort him.

Bill sat still, although soft sobs would escape his mouth. Although it was clear he was holding back, since his body was shaking and trembling. His eyes were basically red and his cheeks were flushed with pink. He could barley look at the boy next to him, only being able to glance over before he took in a shaky inhale and started crying again.

It stayed like this, completely silent apart from a few sniffles from Bill and snores from Gustav before M/N began to talk. "Bill..what's wrong?" He questioned, a hand going to rub his bestfriends back. Bill took a second before responding, leaning into the touch of his friend. "I'm..I’m scared, M/N." Bill muttered, his voice high pitched as he tried to stop his tears, soft whines coming from his mouth as he tried to breath probably.

"I'm just scared of being outed to the public..god they already think I'm gay anyways..." he hiccuped, his hands going up to harshly wipe his eyes. "I want to find someone..who likes me for me. Who actually likes me, M/N. I just wanna date and not have to worry about the gender of the person and..." Bill trailed off, covering his head with his hands.

"I'm sorry. I'm making this so awkward." he groaned, feeling uncomfortable as M/N stayed silent.

"I'm so sorry. You shouldn't have to be scared, Bill. It sucks that we're famous and everything's on TV, huh?" M/N let out a watery chuckle, taking Bills limp hand into his own. "Ive seen you for who you truly are, how you are off screen. The real you. I love every part about you Bill, I truly do. I love you so much, all the way from your spiky hair to your platform shoes. I love you so much. " Bill peaked up from his arms, looking at M/N with an expression mixed with confusion and horror.

"No...no you can't. You can't love me that's not..." Bill blabbered, eyes flickering back and forth from M/N's. His heart beat quickened and he was sure it was going to pop out of his chest and fall out infront of them. "It's not right." Bill said, although his eyes filled with tears as he inched closer to his friend, actions going against his words.

M/N stayed silent, looking at Bills beautiful face before he leaned in, going to peck Bills lips. Bill nearly pulled away, but felt himself slowly melt into the kiss, gripping M/N's hand tightly. This wants right, he knew it. Or at least he thought he knew. He couldn't think about anything else other than M/N right now as the boy held his free hand into Bills chin. Bill felt an ungodly amount of weight lifting off his shoulders as his anxiety slowly drifted, leaving him feeling content and..strangely calm.

As M/N pulled away, he watched as Bills eyebrows scrunched in concussion, still holding M/N's hands tight. M/N traced the lines in Bills hands as best he could, due to the lighting not being the best before pulling away, and pulled up the covers from Bills bed, starting to get up to go to his own bunk. "Wait!" Bill whisper-shouted, trying not to wake the others up. He gripped onto M/N's forearm tightly, which made M/N pause and look at Bill with concern.

"Stay. Please."

Bill didn't need to say anything else. M/N crawled back in, laying next to Bill as he pulled the covers over both of them. "C'mere." M/N mumbled sleepily, feeling his eyelids grow heavy once more. Bill happily shuffled over, allowing himself to be spooned by his friend. Or boyfriend. Bill truly didn't know. That didn't matter right now though. All that mattered now was M/N's hand draping over Bills waist, holding him close.

Bill could only wish M/N would still be here with him by morning.

[arixsturns]

GORGEOUS C.S

(Theres two songs bc i couldn’t choose 😭)

Summary : chris comes home after filming with his brothers and finds out his girlfriend hasn’t eaten the entire day ( its 10pm) so he makes it his mission to get her to eat

WARNINGS : rlly short . readers name is gracie .Mentions of ED ( based off req ) slight cursing . 1st pov . Kissing . Nicknames ( baby , sweetheart , love) Maybe more idk 🤷‍♀️

Authors note : my second fic ( whateva you call it ) but i deleted the first one 😭 so yea and recommendations are super appreciated!!🫶🏼

“ Gracie!” Chris yelled as he got home after filming a youtube video with his brothers . You ran down your stairs to greet your boyfriend “ Hiii” you say leaning in to kiss him . “ look what we got you” Chris says handing you a plastic elephant toy “ it reminded me of you, because your favorite animal is a elephant “ he says while taking off his shoes “ thats so sweet of you” you say gazing at the plastic toy .

“When was the last time you ate?” Chris asks looking over at you “ uhh.. earlier why?” You reply expecting him to take your answer “ are you sure?.. you didn’t eat the wrap we got you from toco bell earlier”

“ i don’t like toco bell” you lie trying to get him to stop questioning you . “ baby i swear i ate” you say sighing . “ no i don’t believe you” he says walking over to you “ you need to eat something , love “

“ ill make you something and we can eat together , you have to eat food for your body to work properly “ Chris says while sitting next to you “ fine” you say and Chris smiles .

Five minutes later you and Chris are in the kitchen together laughing like little kids as he cooks you two a meal “ i could be a five star chef” Chris says making you laugh “ sure” you say sarcastically . “ almost done sweetheart “ Chris says making you smile

When he finishes making your dinner and plates it , he brings it over to your table where you two sit next to each and Chris smiles at you “yours so gorgeous baby.. eat your food” he says as you slowly take a bite chris pats your back “ in proud of you” he says as you two continue to eat and enjoy each others company for the rest of the night .

This is really short and the ending is so trash😭 but yeahhh!😭🫶🏼 who wanna be part of my tag list?

[cowboylor]

meet cute

you need an emergency boyfriend and ross happens to fit the role.

warnings: language, creepy men? in uncomfortable situations?, implied alcohol consumption, fake dating blurb yay

wc: 1.5k

note: this was just for giggles but i'm gonna post it. cheers! :)

Your life mantra is not to wish ill will on anyone but—

“Bet you we could set up your crypto account tonight. Hell, even chicks like you need to get in on this.”

Fuck this guy. Absolutely fuck him.

You're trying to be positive; trying to look for any part of him that you think you can stomach. But you hate his hairstyle and the way the gel clings to it like a different entity. And you don't like his voice when he talks over you. Or the trickles of spit that spew out of his mouth when cutting you off.

Worst of all, the more time you spend listening and narrowing your eyes the more trapped you feel.

It wasn't exactly your friend's fault for finding someone exciting and she had to make a swift exit with them through the back door. In any other setting, you'd commend, even applaud her for getting laid but now—

Todd is here. Or Tim.

You're barely tipsy but can't recall his name for the life of you. But he doesn't seem to mind; talking your ear off about his bitcoin investments and how his independent company is finally taking off after years in practice.

You bring your glass to your lips, muttering sardonically, “Even chicks like me?”

He grins. “Certainly.”

Fighting off a snort, you set your drink on the bar top. You busy yourself with anything to avoid more small talk; checking the time on your phone, scrolling through old emails, and even jotting down a few miscellaneous items for your grocery list.

When have Friday nights become this cruel to you?

“Then, how ‘bout it?”

You perk up. “Sorry?”

He stands by your side with a toothy grin and an eyebrow raised that makes your stomach churn.

You avoid his eye again out of habit, laughing uncomfortably as he steps closer to you to press his shoulder to yours.

“Us taking this somewhere else.”

You blink.

The word 'no' threatens to spill out of your lips, along with 'eat shit' and 'not in this economy' but alas—you're silent and shifting your eyes uncomfortably again because you are not too sure any of those options would deter him anyway.

He barks a laugh and your face warms.

“I need to make a call.” You end up saying before quickly retreating to the other side of the bar.

He lets you go with a raised glass and smirk.

You wander over to the corner. You try calling your friend once before the voicemail comes and you're cursing lowly. Glancing up at the exit sign, you weigh your options quickly before looking back across the room.

You watch as Todd, or Tim, picks up his draped coat from the bar top and tops off his drink with one last swig.

Shit.

Your eyes skirt over rows of people. Past the obvious bachelorette party that you could realistically get lost in and get a shot of tequila out of it. Past the pretty bartender with a sleeve of tattoos, and past the middle-aged man who sports a green cardigan over his button-up.

The door of the bar opens and you're walking over before you can think twice.

“Babe!” You jeer loudly and then immediately close your mouth.

'Babe' is tall and looks kind, which is already enough to rival Tim (you're ninety percent sure it's Tim). He checks behind himself, craning his neck to see if anyone is behind him because you definitely couldn't be talking to him. He lets out a sound of surprise when you clash into him, wrapping your arms around his middle as you awkwardly embrace.

“Can I ask a favor?” You say in a hushed voice, peering up at him through your hug.

“Uh,” He opens and reopens his mouth before landing on a simple, “Sure?”

“Need you to be my fake boyfriend,” You say, resisting the urge to roll your shoulders in disgust at the way it sounds. You glance over to Tim. “Please?”

He follows your line of sight, before immediately wrapping an arm around you.

“Been looking for you!” You gush loudly.

“I'm here now,” He assures, letting you grip his shoulders like you're taken with him.

And partly, you are. With your face buried into the front of his coat, you can't help but notice how good he smells. Woodsy is the word you land on before he's tapping his index finger against your lower back until you whip around to face Tim's furrowed brow.

“Oh,” You breathe out.

You shift, detangling limbs from your fake boyfriend's body to lean into his side instead. Awkwardly, he rests his arm around your waist.

“This is my friend,” You say to him before your eyes flit back to Tim.

He nods before extending his hand. “Ross.”

Good to know. Really good to know.

You watch as Tim undecidedly takes his hand before roughly shaking it. Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you open your mouth to explain an early exit.

Tim interrupts, “Are you two–”

“Yes!” You both say.

Tim’s gaze hardens. “Oh.”

He looks indecisive; as if debating whether or not he wants to say something more that could possibly get him into trouble. He would if Ross wasn't here—or if Ross happened to be a foot shorter. Yet, Tim just purses his lips and nods.

“We would love to stay...” You trail off before glancing up at Ross.

He catches your look. “But we have plans.”

You nod enthusiastically.

Romantic ones, you want to quip to really drive it home. You settle for a hand on his chest to get your point across.

“Right,” Tim says, eyeing you directly. It looks like he finally gained enough courage because he takes another step closer to you. “So no–”

“Have a good one, mate.” Ross interrupts, stepping in front of you.

You're only able to exhale when he retreats to the other end of the bar. Then, you're reactively stepping away from Ross and his gaze is falling to the hand that held you by the waist.

“Thank you,” You say like you're out of breath. He looks up at you with a smile that would put any other person at ease, but for you, it has you screwing your eyes shut in embarrassment. “And I'm so sorry."

He laughs. “For what?”

“I'm sure you didn't expect to be terrorized when you were just coming here for a drink,” You explain in rush, your words running together in an effort to get them out all at once. “I got ditched and trapped and none of that was going great—”

You know you sound like a case, but Ross listens to you go on until you’re sighing and looking at him apologetically again.

“I am sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” He frowns when you say it again. He hesitates before adding, “I’m just glad I didn't get throttled by anyone.”

You blankly stare, eyes running up his stature. “You would’ve been fine.”

His eyes light up.

“Saying I could’ve taken him?” He teases.

You laugh quietly. “You’d have a fighting chance.”

There's a brief pause of silence between the two of you that has you thinking this is where it ends. Before Ross ends up bidding you a quick goodbye and making his way to his group of friends or painfully informing you that his non-fake girlfriend is waiting for him at the other end of the bar top. You're prepared to apologize again, the "s" word is on the tip of your tongue—

“What’s my girlfriend's name?”

Your mind stutters momentarily, and you look at him in surprise. He's peering down at you and you realize your assumption that he looked kind was completely accurate. His eyes fucking radiate it.

You give him your name and hand sheepishly.

“Can I walk you to your car?” He asks after, still holding your hand. Then he nods to the bar, “Or buy you a drink?”

You chuckle shyly. “Shouldn’t I buy you a drink for what I put you through?”

“If you’d like,” He shrugs. “If that gets you to stay.”

You spare a look away from Ross to survey the bar. You can't see him anywhere but your eyes still skirt over every bar seat just to make sure.

“I'll hold your hand the whole time,” He adds lightheartedly, following your eyes as you glance around the room. Then he quips a quiet, "Don't think he'd try anything anyway."

“Boyfriend of the year,” You muse at him with a smile.

You swear tints red at this but you don't linger on it too long, letting his hand brush yours as guides you back to the bar. He ducks his head down, murmuring something along the lines: “Would be a pretty shitty one if I didn't.”

[aria-ashryver]

Welcome To The Jungle | Choices MC Colony | Episode #4

Dorian: so, just to recap: a nearby settlement hired a PI to investigate whether a neighbouring faction of theirs were actually cannibals -- turns out they are, and now that PI is running for her life and needs our help? Rin: That's pretty much what I picked up over the comms, yeah Marianna: Seven pirate raiders from the Venom Chokers Daenarya: Oh, hey I know those guys! Yeeeeah, yeah they'll eat you. Brienne: Some of them also spit fire. Luca: Sorry-- they spit what, now? Anitha: We're helping her, right? Dorian: …Us versus seven angry, fire-spitting, cannibal raiders? Oliver: Yes, we are helping. Dorian: Yeah, totally! Nothing about that sentence is terrifying! Luca: snorts Rin: …chicken. Dorian: I'm not scared. Marianna: Yes, you are. Dorian: Shush.

Aaaahhhhh oh god everything is fine aaahhh

Good news! Carina is safe and (mostly) well! And since we did such an excellent job on the rescue mission (and were sooooo brave and not at all terrified) she's decided to join us for good.

Welcome to the Jungle, @stars-are-within-me's Carina 💖👋 Lovely to have you aboard

[LINK] - Episode 3.5 (ask) - a little overview of the base so far!

Okay, welcome to Episode #4, folks. Its been an exciting few weeks of raids, illnesses, and wild animal attacks, so I think our MCs are due a nice period of calm to relax, take stock, build up our base, and enjoy the bonds of friendship.

ok so we took stock, the stocks aren't great.

Turns out doubling your colony size overnight really hits you in the food department! Who knew. Fortunately, we do have some folks who know a thing or two about crops and gardening, so we've now got two thriving farms, as well as some chickens (Wilbur and Clementine) and our new cow (Tallulah) who we traded some nomads for.

omg the baby chicks are sleeping in the hay that's so cute 😭

(also, something weird happened and all of our crops were turned into strawberries for like a week before I noticed? We had to replant everything lmao. Idk who was behind that one)

Its been nice to just see folks bonding and chatting about stuff while they work too 😊 At the moment, Evie and Luca are the OG colony besties - Evie helps Luca with their building projects quite a bit, so they have lots of time for Top Notch banter. Clearly.

Luca: *ADHD-fuelled rambling* Evie: yeah, i like this one he's weird

Some of the other colonists are finding comfort in each other in this harsh and unforgiving jungle too 👀 A few situationships have started to crop up here and there?? (and I find it utterly hilarious that once again, its mostly the Blades MCs who are Blades MC-ing)

IMPORTANT NOTE: If you want to change/update any of these settings (bc I'm limiting things like lovers and marriage, etc at the moment), just let me know! [Here is a link] to current sprite stats!

Luca and Oliver have both been flirting a lot lately, so I feel like they might the next two to become a thing lol.

Luca: Great party, Oliver! Just what we needed after getting attacked by cannibals. That was crazy, right? Oliver: Yeah, that raid was a nail-biter. Ha, good thing no one else got bitten though. Luca: …You could bite me. Oliver: … Luca: If you want. You seem broad-minded. Oliver: ...what? Luca: what?

Speaking of biting people (apt segue is apt); a group of vampires have asked if they could host a coven meeting at Cedar Station! (They'll pay us with books!! Fuck yeahhhh books!)

Ricky, stop interrupting the coven meeting. Read the room. It's full of purple smoke and spooky spectral demon eyes.

One of them liked Cedar Station so much, she decided to stay! Cameron? Sergio? No, we used aliases. It's Jiahao. Yes, my cape is amazing.

Welcome to the Jungle, @choicesmc's Jia!! ✨ (I've never had a vampire colonist before, I'm hyped)

Ooh, and right on the heels of this! A roaming caravan of hunters and traders passed by the colony (and enjoyed the seaside for a little bit lol) -- and one of the guards who had been helping herd and protect their animals decided to stick around too!

Welcome to the Jungle, @dutifullynuttywitch's Autumn!! *wipes tear* our lil family keeps growing 🥹

I'm so glad this has just been a period of relaxing and making new friends. I'm really enjoying this calm. Surely nothing bad will happen, right?

Surely nothing bad will--

Surely nothing--

*grits teeth* Surely nothing bad will--

SEVENTEEN MAN-EATING MONKEYS???????

Guys please not now, do you not see us hiding from the swarm of angry monkeys??? 😭😭😭

ok no, we can always make time for humanitarian aid. We were sooo brave and fought off enough monkeys so Marianna and Oliver could sneak away and donate money to *checks notes*: Norma Rubivine the child brawler who is very good at mining despite being only 7 years old because she is a Dirtmole.

(me, crying: Norma come back and hhelp me w the monkeys. Please. Norma.)

Surely nothing bad will hap--

Surely nothing-- AGAIN with the insects???

(*through tears*) Surely nothing bad will--

Aaahhhh ow ow ow almost everyone is downed we have run out of hospital beds aahhhh

So uhhh. Let me end this episode by saying: Dorians arm got cut off by raiders and he almost bled to death and I felt really bad so I made him mayor.

🎉🎊🎉

Thank you once again for letting me borrow your darlings @dr-colossal-pita @choicesmc @rosesnink @stars-are-within-me @lover-also-fighter-also @cadybear420 @storyofmychoices @dutifullynuttywitch ✨✨✨

[nellielsss]

ᴜᴘᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ: ᴀ ʟɪꜱᴛ

𐦍༘⋆ ݁A/n: Sooo... I've been in a brainstorming mood (ever since I graduated high school and had more time to think), and I have a few upcoming fics that I'm thinking about doing. I've also REALLY been thirsting over Toji like yes that is my man!! I will indeed be standing beside him. Anyway!! Here's some of my ideas in order of which one's I'm most likely to write.

Heartbreaker songfic!: one of my personal favorite Mariah Carey songs, it's such a sweet and fun bubblegum (with a mix of R&B) song to listen to! Basically in this songfic, the reader's just playing a bunch of characters and stringing them along LMAO. I felt like turning the tables on the men & making them pine instead.

Blow songfic: basically just headcanons on how the men give head. Whether it be pussy-eating, dick-sucking or ass-eating, these men are down for anything, and this details how they get down (in my opinion).

Meeting the Zen'in Clan: a Toji-centered fic, this details meeting the Zen'in Clan and how (poorly) it turns out. Basically, Toji has a grandmother who tried to care for him during his time with the clan, and she's fallen ill, so he wants to see her one last time at a banquet. Naoya, the little shit he is, somehow gathered details about reader and outs her as a trans woman in front of everyone at the table. You can guess how it goes from there!

Marriage Eyes: headcanon + mini-fic on how the guys look at you when they know they wanna lock you in.

Touch My Body songfic: a forbidden romance featuring Toji, Satoru & Nanami!

Too Much Sex: the guys love you(r holes), but it's beginning to be a little too much for you. How would they react when you instate a sex ban on them?

Beautiful Liar songfic: you're on a date with a guy, and it all goes to shit when you run into the girl they're seeing on the side. Two-timing is not your thing, so you decide to ditch him with the most attractive man you see at the bar!

Stay The Night songfic: short little drabble where you don't wanna see your man go, so you opt to have a sleepover on the spot.

The Boy Is Mine songfic: how would the guys react when the girl they've been seeing ultimately ends up being the only girl who's not murdered?

Baddest Chick Wearing Their Chain: the guys wonder how you'd look wearing their initials/name around your neck.

Honey songfic: what's one way to show your partner some love? By dripping it all over 'em, of course! (if you catch my drift)

Fashion Week: the guys start dating a model, and they get a firsthand look at the fashion biz. He wonders if the stereotype about models being catty holds up...

Gym Pics: short and sweet, self-explanatory.

Fighting a Cat?!: cats can be a pain in the ass if they don't like you, so when they finally get invited over to their girlfriends' house, the guys are at a loss when their sweet angel's sweet angel isn't exactly a sweet angel to them in private.

Hey, Neighbor!: Wisteria Lane (Desperate Housewives ref. hehe) wasn't a place where they expected to meet fine young women, but the guys could at least hope, right? So when the answer to their prayers moves in down the street, they're more than eager to go after what they've been waiting for.

Up Out My Face songfic: they know they've messed up badly, and they also know that their girlfriends have suitors lined up just waiting to take their places. So, how are they gonna go about getting them back before it's too late?

ᡣ𐭩 If you couldn't tell, I really like listening to music. Some of these might take a while (like the Zen'in Clan fic), so bear with me (ó﹏ò｡) but trust, I'll get to each of these eventually!! I also might update 'em as time goes on, just to make sure that the writing's all cohesive and makes sense.

© ʙʀᴜɴᴇᴛᴛᴇ-ʙɪᴛᴄʜ77 on tumblr - get your own shit bitches | ca. 6/8/2024

[misericordia-writing]

Lightning Bugs

"𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙞𝙨𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙜𝙤 𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚, 𝙩𝙚𝙡𝙡 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙡𝙛 𝙩𝙤 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙢𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙜𝙤𝙙-𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙨𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙚.

𝙎𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙮, 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙮, 𝘿𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙚𝙡 𝙅𝙤𝙝𝙣𝙨𝙤𝙣 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙’𝙫𝙚 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙢𝙗𝙡𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚, 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙤𝙣 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙝𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙨."

Chapter 1 of Matchbook

Pairings: Danny Johnson/Gender-Neutral Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Angst, Fluff

Summary: A character exploration of Danny. I've noticed most fics make him super funny and sardonic, and while I love that, I imagine I'd have huge moral qualms about dating a serial killer. So I wrote this. Not particularly dark, but depressing? I don't know. I’m sorting things out. Probably super OOC. Enjoy.

TW for canon-typical violence, implications of mental illness, and unhealthy relationships/power imbalance (naturally)

Ao3: s://archiveofourown.org/works/45585013/chapters/114704077

    "I hate that you're right."

        The words come out quietly one night, while you're sitting on a muggy balcony that smells like cigarettes and acetone. The green-gray haze of Floridian night swamping you in swaths of gnats, only gently dissuaded by a mesh screen.

        A streetlamp flickers and dulls, the painted metal cart of a dollar store clinks against its siblings, and an old man sputters and coughs up into his shirt collar.

        "About what?"

        "About people. Humanity. Life. Society. That type of stuff." You say, balancing a bottle of black nail polish on your thigh while you try to paint your toes. "How it's just primal violence. You're pretty much right."

        He doesn't respond. Normally, you wouldn’t be allowed to talk about this stuff so openly, outside, where a neighbor could hear you. But everyone is busy tonight. You’re not too surprised that he’s memorized their schedules. Furtively scratching pens into notebooks almost every single second that he’s not busy playing out stories. Too enamored to eat or sleep or wash the dishes. ‘That’s one of the reasons I keep you around,’ he had said, in partial jest, as if you were his mid-century housewife.

        "Listen, I'm not just sucking up to you like some chick in a horror movie, trying to persuade the killer that she's on his side. As applicable as that may be. You're right. Genuinely."

        "I thought you were into all of that spirituality stuff. Being good. Reaching nirvana and donating to the thrift store." He mutters, methodically scraping the debris of last night out from under his nails. Jed has work tomorrow.

        Jed Olsen is who you signed up for, back when you were still a recent college graduate, finally having gotten to the 'good' part of your life. Feeling hopeful, cheery even. Watering your plants, picking up dandelions off the side of the road, smiling at strangers. Saving up to buy a nice house someday, with a garden and personal study. Somewhere you could bake in, read in, live in. Maybe even find someone to share it with.

        ‘You were just so sweet,’ He said one time, while you were in his car. He had locked the doors and told you that he just couldn’t trust you that much, yet. But soon.

        ‘Always so withdrawn, cautious. But sweet. Barely able to deal with playing nice to co-workers, but then turning your back and smiling at weeds in the cracks of a sidewalk. Surprising, considering the way you dress. All rock n’ roll, usually. Black looks good on you. That scraped-up Walkman attached to your hip. Diverse taste. I mean, the way you seamlessly went from Bauhaus to Blondie in the span of an hour was truly something.’ Sip.

        ‘All while performing an elaborate routine in your bedroom- complete with costume changes and a hairbrush microphone. You really could be a rockstar, sweetheart. Too bad though, I don’t think that’ll happen. Maybe in your next life.’

        He paused to look at his milkshake, then dipped a fry in it. ‘Different- odd and unusual, but not in the predicable early-twenty-year old way I see a lot. Talking to the spiders you would find in your room, politely asking them to leave. So observant and smart. But ultimately, I guess you just weren’t observant or smart enough, were you?’ He barked out a laugh, triumphantly.

        He was so charming, the way he would stop by your job before work. Monday through Friday. Pretending to think for a minute, before ordering the exact same coffee as he always did. Coincidentally loving the same books, talking with you about the new episode of a sitcom you had been watching the night before. Handsome, and only a few years older, with a degree from a similar program to yours under his belt. Good reputation, wonderful penmanship. Enthusiastic, kind- but with a quick wit.

        He made you feel special- which, apparently, you were. Just not in the way you’d think.

        "I am, still." You sigh, painting, the brush spreading smooth inky black across keratin. A drop of paint drips onto the skin of your foot.

        You scrape it away with the back of your fingernail and quickly dab it to a folded paper towel.

        "Danny." You say, looking at him. "Do you think I'm a bad person?"

        He tsks, as if the question offends him. "You really want me to be the judge on ethics? Are you forgetting who I am? What I do?" A gravelly punch dips the last syllable of each sentence, almost like a growl.

        "No," You say, "I'm just asking. Besides, I thought you thought you were right? Do you think that your actions are ethical? By your logic, that we are all inherently violent and terrible, then you wouldn't be evil for acting on that. My beliefs lie somewhere in the middle. Just curious."

        He pauses, dark eyes looking down into the parking lot. The man is gone, and the cart is pushed neatly back into its place.

        Sweltering heat. He smells like detergent, the good middle-of-the-road kind. Sticky notes. Cologne. Sweat. Iron.

        "No."

        You frown, looking down through the mesh as well. Lightning bugs light up the brush at the edge of the apartment complex. “Fireflies!” You say, with childish glee. You almost forget the crushing guilt for a minute, beaming down at the glowing shrubs.

        You’re eight again, bare feet padding through wet grass, trying to catch them in a jar. Somebody is having a barbeque, and you’re going to go to bed tired and happy tonight, with a dozen itchy mosquito bites down your legs.

        You wonder what eight-year-old you would think about this situation. You wish you could go back in time, tell yourself to never move to this god-forsaken red state.

        Surely, that way, Daniel Johnson would’ve never stumbled into your life, staining you with the blood on his hands.

        He still doesn’t say anything, other than a hum, so you sit back down. Finishing the last coat of paint on your smallest toe.

        The plastic weaving of the chair digs into the backs of your thighs, and you set the polish back down on the accent table. The thermometer reads 85 degrees Fahrenheit.

        “I hate myself.” You say, feeling every bitter moment and truth from your past bubble up at once. Every scrape, burn, and cut. “I don’t understand why you do what you do. It makes me feel guilty for you. Like I’m the one doing those things. Am I not just as bad? I don't try to stop you. I should.”

        You often feel that Danny’s twenty steps ahead of you. Just waiting for the right moment. Chess and checkers.

        A bead of sweat rolls down your back, the tank top you wear doing little to reduce the humidity. You stand up and walk to stand in front of him. “But yet here I am. I’m still surprised you haven’t killed me yet. You said you were going to. Why not?”

        “I probably will when the time is right." He looks up at you for a moment, pausing before looking back at the sky.

        "If it makes you feel any better, you don’t really have a choice in what I do, or a choice in being involved with me… I would find my way in, in any situation. This is probably just some type of Stockholm syndrome kicking in. So you survive. Fun, right? Your brain and body are doing the best they can to cope with the reality. Of your situation. Of how you feel about me. Really, you’re lucky. You think all of the others wouldn't have taken this opportunity? Don’t beat yourself up about it.”

        He swats a mosquito nonchalantly.

        “Yeah, I guess so.” You say, sitting down at the foot of his lawn chair. “Do you care about me?”

        “A little bit.” He says, gaze off to the side. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

        You laugh, though you aren’t sure if he was trying to be funny. Not that it was very funny in the first place.

        “For the record,” He says, “You’ve made it longer than anyone else has. Normally I lose interest. I’m not done watching you yet. I don’t know if I want to end your story. It’s my favorite.”

        “Well, if I’m nothing else, at least I’m a serial killer’s favorite 'story'.” You roll your eyes, but there isn’t too much sarcasm behind it.

        “You make me feel the way I feel when I kill, sometimes. I don’t know if I love you, because I don’t really believe in that stuff. But I like you more than most things.” He says, fingers reaching out to twirl a lock of your hair. 

        The same fingers that dig knives into people and then snap pictures of it after. That rip intestines out and turn them into party streamers. The same fingers that would’ve done the same thing to you, too. That still might.

        That fantasize about it, twitching sometimes when you turn your back. Itching to grab you by the throat and finally write a conclusion. Aching to make you a headline.

        Fingers that move down to your neck now, feeling the red pulse of your blood. Padding up to the side of your face and wiping a welling tear away from the corner of your eye.

        Fingers that have held your hair back when you puked, and gripped your hand firmly in public when you can’t find the clarity to process all the different sounds of a supermarket. Let you pick out your favorite candy at the video store, made popcorn with you on the stove.

        Pressed your favorite VHS into the player for the third time that week, not because he found it particularly groundbreaking, but because you couldn’t get out of bed to wash your hair or eat, and that stupid movie was- for whatever reason- the only thing capable of distracting you from the thought of pink-red water slotting down the drain of his porcelain white bathtub.

         “I feel that way too, sometimes.” You rasp. “Minus the whole killing people part. I don’t know if it exists. Love. At least, not as the thing people say it is. Really relates back to the animalistic nature thing, right? Do animals feel ‘love’? We are animals. I’ve felt things like love, but never what I’m supposed to. I wish I knew. Snakes like warm rocks. Do they love warm rocks?”

         “You’re probably never going to know.” He says, bluntly, nails scratching at your scalp. You wonder if he's only doing it to get the last flakes of dried blood out. You imagine little beams coming from his fingers, wiggling into your brain and picking out all of your synapses. Mapping your psyche.

       He probably would if he could, but then he might get bored and gut you for his collage.

        “Yeah,” You sigh, “I know. But… I love you. The closest to love I think I can.”

        “I know.” On anybody else, it would sound almost pitying.

        You know that even if he loved you, he would never say it. The words will not leave his mouth. But you feel loved. The way that he touches you, the way he presses against your back sometimes, in the middle of dark, foggy nights. Covers kicked off the bed, and a face pressed into your neck. Him keeping a box of special pictures under the bed, just of you, that you don’t think he knows you know about-  but maybe he knows that you know. Some of them from before you even met. Almost all of them when you weren’t looking.

        And later that night, when you’ve locked the screen door, and he’s meticulously arranged his piles of papers, looked through his hastily (passionately) scrawled designs one more time, and finished the laundry, you two lay down in the bed. As the moonlight streams down onto his face, dark hair reflecting its soft glow, you sigh. A hand reaches out to stroke his neck, and you wonder again why he does the things he does. He lets you. You can feel the heartbeat in his throat.

        Danny hates when he falls asleep before you, but you like it. So rarely do you get to see him off-guard- innocent and peaceful, brows finally unknitted. The little scar on his forehead that he keeps covered. The slow rise and fall of his stomach against you, occasionally an upper arm tensing over your shoulder. The way he rests his face in your hair, or the crook of your neck.

        Surprisingly cuddly, for a ruthless, taunting killer, who you know for a fact has slaughtered more than enough people to fill the  floor-plan of your shared apartment, probably, if you laid them down flat.

       ‘Thirty-two,’ he’d grinned, proud of himself. ‘Not many others can say the same, can they?’

        You grimaced. ‘No, I suppose not.'

        Your stomach churns again, before you drift off. You dream about fireflies and going to prison. People screaming and swimming in a pink-red bathtub. Sometimes you think it would be easier if he had just killed you the way he planned. Maybe you wouldn’t feel so guilty for being alive, then.

        If you could go back in time, you would fix him. You like to tell yourself that, sometimes. That you could change his outcome, and the fates of dozens of others as well. You would treat him right, never let the sickness twist his mind. Stop his father from planting a seed of despair and overwhelming hatred in his heart. Let him be ignorant and happy, watch the news. Not make the news.

        Maybe you would have a nice house together, if it were Jed, and you could make lemonade and watch fireworks together. Kiss him on the cheek and watch him smile. Have deep conversations that take all night, but never reach past the abstract and theoretical, into the realm of reality. Be normal. You were foolish to ever wish for anything other than normal. You would kill to have normal, now. To live without the churning in your stomach.

        You really should be more careful what you wish for.

[obsessedtomone]

Unravel Yourself Before Me ⛓️ Chapter 7 - Anomalies▸Shigaraki x femReader

Chapter Summary:

◤ So now you find yourself standing in front of the classroom door, staring holes into it. There’s around five minutes left before the bell rings, but you can’t bring yourself to go in, despite multiple students passing you by and entering themselves.

You can’t fucking do it. You can’t stomach facing him today. You know you should, but you just can’t. ◢

Setting: University AU - No quirks (unless degenerate personalities count) Tags: Slow burn, Eventual Smut, Unhealthy/Toxic Relationships, Humiliation, Mentally Ill Reader, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to ??? Warning: Dead Dove – Do Not Eat | Mind the tags TW: Implied Su/Self H, Dubcon, Reader has a super shitty past like actually, Shigaraki Tomura is his own warning.

AO3 Crosspost | Chain Divider by firefly-graphics

Chapters: One • Two • Three • Four • Five • Six • Seven • Eight

Chapter 7 - Anomalies

Two whole days have passed since your phone call with Shigaraki. Both of them were a total fucking blur. 

You ended up spending most of your time at Taylor’s, drinking yourself to sleep and watching shitty chick flicks on their couch, blocking reality out. 

Well, almost blocking reality out. The hangovers tend to ground you like nothing else really, when you realize you’ve made good friends with Taylor’s pristine ass bathroom tiles, enhancing that nausea with a lovely Fabuloso scent that you’re pretty sure won’t get out of your nose for the next couple of days.

Between the porcelain throne and your friend cooking fantastic comfort foods for you to feed back into the sewage system, you finally got a call from your university’s faculty. 

You find yourself in front of a big double-doored office, tapping your foot anxiously as you’re sitting in one of the shitty chairs they put out for regular visitors, waiting for the dean to call you in. The secretary eyes you with pure disdain as you walk by her, so you know you’re in for a great time, the circus having finally reached the faculty’s ears.

College is the last fucking place you want to be at right now. 

Virtually everyone is able to recognize you now, even after doing your absolute best to dress more inconspicuously than you usually did. Unsurprisingly, it doesn’t fucking work. Masks and dark hoods only make you look like an Assassin’s Creed cosplayer in the best case scenario, and a potential school shooter in the worst, prompting NPCs to double-check. So you gave up, pulling your hood down and tucking your black colored mask into your pockets, halfway through your way here.

It’s the harsh fucking reality, but you stand out. No matter what you do from now on, you’ll always stand out.

The dean opens one of the doors to his office and you grit your teeth as he gestures for you to enter. Old leather and gross shoe polish invade your senses as he offers you a seat and goes on to take his own. 

It’s funny how uncomfortable the huge squeaky armchair is making you feel, when you know it’s designed for anything but. Many big investors and rich asshole parents have sat where you do right now, yet here you are. 

You doubt they called you here to strike another deal with you. No, instead, you’re about to hear the lecture of a fucking lifetime.

He clears his throat, hand stroking his short white beard and he finally initiates the painful conversation. 

“You see, dear lady, I’m certainly aware times have changed, and discussions like these may seem outdated to your generation, but allow me to share with you a time where rules were different.” He pauses for effect, you assume. “Back then, any improper behavior resembling what’s become common today, would have led to an immediate and undisputable expulsion. It’s a stark contrast to what us, the older generation, has to witness now.” His chin tilts downwards. ”Nevertheless, while the times may have evolved, the core principles of decency still remain and should always apply.”

The older man fixes you a stern gaze, making you shift in your chair. His disapproval is obvious and his blatant judgment affects you in a way you feel you’d disappointed a grandparent. It takes everything in you not to roll your eyes at him, somehow still able to maintain a shred of composure.

He’s not for real, you think to yourself, inhaling deep and exhaling slowly, letting him embark on his journey about his ideal cottagecore wifey ‘stay at home and don’t bring disrespect to the family business’ views.

“I’d like you to take a moment and think about the gravity of your actions, if possible. You probably are aware as to why we called you in today. This is not just about having fun or ‘blowing off steam’ as you kids say, no matter how stressful your academic performance might be. I understand the position you’re in is a challenging one,” he says, gesturing with his hand the way a versed politician would. “But it’s imperative to realize that your actions carry consequences far beyond your immediate circumstances.”

“With smartphones and social media nowadays, news spreads like wildfire! Have you perhaps forgotten that your actions reflect not only upon yourself, but upon the entire institution?” He shakes his head. “The position we have extended to you is one of privilege, one you should be utterly grateful for.” The dean presses his hands together, looking at you very thoughtfully. “And one that is to be respected.”

There’s ants in your veins. There must be, otherwise you can’t explain these disgusting prickles running through your body.

“Allow me to get to the point and reiterate this: the typical course of action for this type of indecency, would be none other than undisputable swift expulsion. However, I am inclined to grant you an opportunity to present your side of the matter. Your past professional relationship with the faculty hasn’t been overlooked, therefore I am keen to hear your explanation before we proceed.”

A headache begins to form at the center of your brain sometime during his boring ass monologue, and you start feeling agitated. Your grip on the expensive material of the chair’s arm starts hurting from how tense you feel and your fingers begin cramping up. It’s becoming a real feat to just sit still and not claw the eyeballs out of his skull.

“Allow me to offer you a personal observation,” the dean interjects, the look in his eyes becoming unsettling. “Consider it a word of guidance, from a seasoned individual who has walked this path longer than you have.”

Never in a million years, could you have guessed what the head of the fucking faculty was going to spit at you next. 

“Think of yourself as a lock, my dear.” His voice takes on a disturbing undertone, eyes narrowing as he leans in closer over his desk. “If just anyone can gain access, what does that say about your feminine value?”

If your eyes widened any more, they would surely have popped out of your head by now.

“Excuse me?” You lean forward into your chair, voice quivering slightly as you give him the chance to reconsider his words.

The dean only clears his throat twice and adjusts his tie uncomfortably, his eyes lingering on you with an unsettling intensity as his stubby manicured fingers continue to stroke at his beard.

“You heard me well, young lady,” he says, tone dripping with condescension. “You should not be so careless with your affections. Consider the needs of your future husband! What would he think of you, knowing you’ve shared what should’ve been your purity, so carelessly, so freely?! It’s a shame, really, the lack of modesty among the youth these days. Do young women have no shame anymore?”

Oh god. You feel yourself rapidly becoming nauseous. 

Did this old creep jerk off to Shigaraki’s thread as well?! How un-fucking-believable. 

What was your life, really? What’s going on right now?

You slam your fucking fist against his desk, face flushed crimson with barely-controlled rage, eyes narrowed and teeth bared in a snarl. The old man is startled.

“Now listen here, young lady—”

“No,” you say, throwing your head back and huffing an incredulous laugh. “No, you fucking listen to me, old creep. You listen damn well, before I fucking report you to the education ministry for inappropriate conduct, alright?” Your chest is heaving, voice growing significantly louder.

He’s shut up.

“You wanna get me expelled?” You bend over his desk, an expression of crazed fury painting your features as you look down at the balding old man. The tone of your voice is deceptively calm. “Not only one of your top students, but also the only poor fucking moron in this elitist ass university, who’d let you parade around as you fucking please. Yeah?”

This isn’t the first time you’ve lashed out at teachers or professors, but it’s the first time you’d ever confronted a person of a higher position. Shigaraki is dead set on ruining your life, but you’ll be damned if you let another fucking sleazebag talk down to you right now. 

Especially not this joke of a headmaster, who spends his nights watching student porn, only to slut shame said student the next fucking day.

Your courage to ruin your relationship with the faculty doesn’t stem from meticulous planning. No, you’re not thinking straight right now. You’re reckless, about to ruin everything, and so very angry.

“I’ve been at your fucking beck and call, whenever you needed an idiot to wear your stupid tight uniforms, have I not? ‘Look, kids! Look at this orphan bitch, benefitting from our great scholarship program! Even degenerates with no future prospects will be able to thrive and have the chance to become the best at our institution!” you chirp, followed by a bark of sardonic laughter, and the dean frowns at your audacity.

“Tell me old man, how much money have I made you so far? If you expel me, who is ready to take my place and become your little puppet? You’re not giving me a chance to explain myself because of our great relationship over the years. You’re giving me a chance to say something that’ll save your neck with the board members, over why someone you personally vouched for, would sink the ship like this.”

The dean stands up, fingers trembling with shock and anger, before trying to cut you off, “You’re extremely out of line, Miss, I suggest—”

“I suggest you shut the fuck up and listen veeeeeeery closely to me, okay?” you coo, voice dripping saccharine sweet. “What you and half of this university fucking jerked it off to, is nothing more than revenge porn. You know what that is, right? It’s a crime. A serious one.”

A flash of confusion crosses the dean’s face, making him pinch his eyebrows, and for a second, you feel your gut filling with hope. Maybe he’s not a complete fucking idiot and he’ll understand, after all.

“What? But—” he takes a moment to think before opening his mouth again, old eyes becoming resolute. “That’s completely irrelevant. What matters now, is that you’re jeopardizing the image of the institution and—”

“Aaand, the videos, the contents, were all taken against my consent. Isn’t it funny? I barely turned eighteen the week before that video was taken, haha. I was high and that guy took advantage of me. Do I have to spell it out for you? What he’s done to me?” You smile angrily. “But you don’t care about that, do you? It’s alright, there’s more.” 

You grab the golden nameplate off his desk, and clean it with the sleeve of your hoodie, wiping it down as you feel sweat building up under your armpits. It’s dawning on you how close you are to losing everything. You hope it wouldn’t show.

“Wanna know who’s behind this?” Your smile turns bitter and you place the object back down, taking on a mocking tone, “‘Course you fucking don’t. You’re all imbeciles. But I’ll bet on my entire fucking scholarship that you’ve dealt with him before.”

A scowl forms on the principal’s face, and you could tell he’s at his wit’s end, about to tell you off but deciding to let you go on with your little charade.

“So humor me, okay? How famous of a character is Mr. Shigaraki fucking Tomura, among the members of the board? Must’ve reached your dainty little ears by now, having half his criminal record allegedly happen at this institution, has he not?”

Immediately, the blood drains from the dean’s face.

How… incredible. You only mentioned his fucking name. Seriously?

“Mr. S-Shigaraki.”

“Yep. Mr. fucking Shigaraki. There was a… minor altercation, between him, me and Mr. Reynolds. Then he put me on his little hit list and decided I should never be able to show my face in public anymore. Luckily for you, I don’t have angry rich parents to sue the shit out of this school, which is why you think it’s okay to speak to me like I’m some societal trash.”

And suddenly, an incredible idea comes to you.

“Say, sir. If I get expelled now… and I tell him that I tattled to you, what’s the chance he lets you keep your job, knowing what you know and his family being who it is?” 

You don’t fucking know either, but you’re eager to dig yourself out of this fucking grave.

It’s a really shitty move, one you aren’t sure if it would work, but you’ll be damned if you care anymore. None of these assholes do, anyways, so why should you? 

You’re not a saint, and if people punch down enough times, you’ll start punching back.

The dean closes his eyes and sighs, after which he gets up and turns to the window. He doesn’t kick you out or talk back right away, something that told you he’s weighing his options on which terrible outcome to avoid. Dealing with you or dealing with him.

“After everything we’ve done for you—all the opportunities and the support the faculty has provided you with,” he mutters, sighing again and you think you’re smelling that Fabuloso scent again as you’re about to really throw up. “To behave in such an entitled manner and put my reputation at risk for your own self-serving motives—truly a shame. You bear a striking resemblance to that regrettable excuse of a man.”

“Guess I’ve learned from the best. Or maybe this place is just a breeding ground for assholes like us, huh?” You smile another strained smile, hiding your shaking hand behind your back. 

Did he seriously compare you to Shigaraki of all people? Seriously?

“Do you… think it’s possible to take down the posts and erase any trace of the incident?” the dean asks, already suspecting what the answer would be.

“No, he’s not a fucking idiot. A sock puppet account will pop up somewhere else every time we’d do that. It’ll be like playing virtual fucking whack-a-mole.” You feel your gut twist and you wince, closing your eyes. “That’s what I would do at least. If I were him.” 

“What about involving law enforcement, then?” He turns to face you, hands behind his back. “We’ve handled cases of defamation in the past. The faculty possesses outstanding legal counsel who could assist you in such matters, however I’m not sure if you could…” He looks you up and down and scrunches his nose. “...afford it. But given the circumstances, I suppose we could make an exception.”

You sigh. Who the fuck died and put this clown in charge?

“What about the law enforcement? Hello? Do I have to remind you who we’re dealing with? How many cases were you able to win against him and his dad?” you ask, irritation bubbling up in your throat. Your eyes dart around the room and land on some random shiny trophy collection in his office, feeling like you wanted to go home so badly.

“Professor Reynolds didn’t actually quit,” the dean reveals, unprompted. “It is Mr. Shigaraki who has forced him to… retire. Or rather his father did.” 

Your eyes widen briefly, before going back to your bored expression.

Of course it was.

Why the fuck was he telling you though, when all it did was confirm that your childish threats could actually work. This asshole couldn’t actually be this stupid. There must be another reason.

“That so? Color me fucking impressed,” you mock, rolling your eyes. “You want me to fucking care, when you were so ready to kick me out of the program ten minutes ago? Pathetic, really.”

Images of Taylor and the dean appear in your mind, both fucking comparing you to him. Maybe they are right. Maybe you really are an asshole. 

Maybe the two of you weren’t so different after all. 

Your frown deepens.

“I’ll tell you what, old man. I don’t need your legal counsel nor do I need your help. Publicly suspend me for a week and I’ll pretend you didn’t threaten to expel me. That’s the only way you get to keep sitting on your cozy ergonomic leather throne,” you say, digging a nail into the skin around another. “Since everything is pointed at me, you can keep your hands clean. I’m sure there’s worse things you’ve had to cover up for the more privileged students.” 

You grab your bag that you previously placed next to the chair on the way in, and turn around to leave. 

“One more thing. If you fucking dare to take me off the scholarship program, I might have to handwrite a fucking letter and deliver it straight to Shigaraki’s doorstep. We go down together. Don’t forget that, sir.” 

A flicker of pathetic resignation crosses his face, but you don’t linger, heading outside of the office and feeling stressed beyond belief. 

Moving forward, you’ll have to deal with Shigaraki on your own, but that’s something you were well aware of anyway. 

So you finally let go of your breath. 

You didn’t lose everything yet. You still had some control over the situation. You’re gonna be fine. You have to be.

Closing your eyes, you walk past that bitch of a secretary and into the elevator, heading for the exit with a million thoughts racing through your head.

Did Shigaraki seriously get so butthurt over the professor that he made him quit? Over a warning? It sounds on-brand but something doesn’t add up.

Also, why do people keep mentioning the two of you are alike? He’s a crazy manipulative psychopath! 

Yes, you’ve done vile things in the past, but only when people wronged you! Mostly. The dean was about to hit you with an expulsion, after all the hard work you’ve put into this place! What were you supposed to do? Not drag him down with you? After he told you to stop whoring yourself out? It felt good to put him in his place! Why did it feel good? Why did it feel good to win? 

There’s a rush.

Did he… also feel good playing dirty with his opponents? Is that why he acts the way he does? 

Your hand is trembling on the strap of your bag, feeling yourself smile with a huff.

Of course he does. He’s Shigaraki Tomura, after all.

─────────

You should’ve gone home, but here you are, making good on your promise not to back down from his challenge. 

You’ve got no clue as to how today is going to go or whether or not you’ll be groveling at his feet the way he wants you to, by the time class is over. 

That would not be ideal, but you don’t have the funds to move cities, nor do you actually want to be scared that stalkers and rapists are waiting in front of your door. Your fist clenches at the thought. 

So now you find yourself standing in front of the classroom door, staring holes into it. There’s around five minutes left before the bell rings, but you can’t bring yourself to go in, despite multiple students passing you by and entering themselves.

You can’t fucking do it. You can’t stomach facing him today. You know you should, but you just can’t. 

It could lead to disastrous consequences, but right now, you’re just a coward. With your head dropping low, you release the strap of your bag to grab your hood and cover yourself, turning around and walking away.

Until you bump into someone.

The smell of his distinctly intoxicating and probably unnecessarily expensive cologne hits you first. And here he was, the final boss.

“Ah—aaaAchOO!” You sneeze all over him, the smell of chemicals overwhelming your sensitive nose. 

Did the motherfucker dump the whole bottle on his shirt this morning? You scowl, staring right into his chest and not daring to look up.

“Fuck! Don’t fucking sneeze on me, you idiot!” Shigaraki barks, wiping himself off but not backing away from you. You close your eyes and sigh, one eyebrow slightly twitching.

“Shut the fuck up. You’re standing in my way and you fucking reek. Not my problem.” you say, wiping your nose with the back of your sleeve and you catch a pair of offended red eyes glancing down at himself for a second, before they turn to glare at you. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”

You attempt to side-step him, but he’s crowding you, blocking your way. You look around and notice there’s not a single soul besides the two of you.

“Yeah? Well at least half the fuckin’ college isn’t waiting to see my pussy getting pounded every week, bitch. Also, class is this way.”

 Shigaraki sneers at you, pointing towards the cursed door that you wanted to get away from. You roll your eyes, feeling maybe a tinge of sadness at his remark, brows pinching downwards.

“And who’s fucking fault is that, huh?” You place your hands squarely against his chest, making him flinch before giving him a light push. 

It’s met with no resistance. He steps backwards to stabilize his footing. 

Maybe it’s your exhaustion, maybe it’s the earlier rage in the dean’s office, or maybe it’s the way he’s taking your situation lightly, but you can’t stop yourself from provoking him again. 

“Yours, obviously.” He flashes you a playful smile, one you haven’t seen since the first day you’ve properly met him. “It’s ‘kay. At least you’ve got a pretty one. Maybe you should switch career paths and become a pornstar instead. It’ll be hard with all your fucked up scars, but I’d still watch.”

Your frown deepens and he sees hurt in your eyes, making him smile wider. This prompts you to grip the fabric of his thick black hoodie and you shove at him. Hard.

“Whoa—” Shigaraki is taken aback by the sudden force, but surprisingly lets you push him.

“WhOaAa!!!” you mock his stupid fucking voice. 

And then you do it again. You keep shoving him down the hallway, as hard as you possibly can.

For all the fucking stress, the hurt and the pain. For exposing you to thousands of people online. For putting you in danger by convincing people it was okay to harass you. For threatening to do worse. For ruining everything. For ruining everything! 

You feel dizzy and foggy from overdosing on anxiety meds, just so you could barely function today. Just so you wouldn’t be afraid.

Of him. Of the fucking world!

You have no idea when it happened, but tears welled up in your eyes, and no matter how desperately you try to will them away, you’re only about to cry harder. You see flickers of softness in his eyes, as he smiles down at you smugly. 

Until you shove him one final time and he trips on his legs, grabbing your arm and dragging you to fucking hell with him.

“Shit!” You stumble forwards and he catches you, bumping heads in the process. Your eyes are screwed shut and you pull back, rubbing your forehead. It takes you a good moment to process what happened, and when you do, you start panicking.

Fuck! Is he going to be mad and accuse you of assaulting him now? Use his fancy lawyers to charge you with some shit? Is that why he let you push him around? Fuck, fuck, fuck! You don’t have money for a fucking lawyer! Especially not one matching his daddy’s big pockets! You’re so fucking screwed.

Hesitantly, you open your eyes and expect the biggest shit eating grin, one ready to bury you in this massive hole you’ve dug for yourself. 

But the sight that greets you is far from anything like that.

As if reenacted from a shitty romcom flick that you and Taylor had been watching yesterday, you somehow ended up straddling Shigaraki Tomura’s lap. 

He’s leaning back, supporting his upper weight on his elbows, shirt slightly raised and exposing his surprisingly toned pale-skinned torso. It catches your attention and your brows angle downwards.

What the fuck? 

You thought rich boys are supposed to be smooth and cared for, like expensive porcelain. Not littered with endless scars, long lines of white healed tissue competing with those of your own, dark fresh patches of purple all across the visible surface. 

How the fuck did he end up like this?

The soft exhale he lets out wakes you up from your daze, brain finally catching up with the fact that you reached out with both hands, one of them pulling at the shirt to inspect further and the other softly brushing against the skin. 

His body visibly shudders under you, and your eyes snap back to his face, noticing how flushed his cheeks are, his familiar angry crimson-colored eyes looking back at you.

For a moment, he doesn't look invincible anymore. Instead, he looks almost… 

Vulnerable.

You grimace, sobering up and wanting to pull back, to get the fuck off him, but he grabs your wrist before you can, yanking you closer to him and forcing you to feel his warmth, radiating against you. His face is now in front of your own, and you curse under your breath when you involuntarily glance at his dry, parted lips.

“What the fuck are you doing?” you whisper, but your tone holds no bite, voice coming off soft instead. Way less angry than you should’ve been with him.

“I don’t—I don’t know,” he replies, the impulsive action leaving him disorientated as well. 

You’re absolutely fucking baffled, searching his face for any hint of his usual cunningness, anything to give you a reason to snap out of it… but all you could find is confusion.

By the time you regain some of your composure, you become painfully aware of your position. You’re fucking straddling him, sitting snugly against his lap and feeling how hard his—

“Don’t you dare fucking move,” Shigaraki hisses at you, a rosy blush having spread from his cheeks, all the way to his neck when he notices you finally putting two and two together. He needs a moment to calm down, to compose himself. 

But you’re nothing if not a brat.

You glance around, checking for people, but it’s dead quiet and nobody is wandering around during active sessions. 

The two of you are partially obscured by a spare desk and a storage unit and you decide that’s good enough for you. So you smirk at him, giving him a split second to realize his predicament and watch his eyes widen as you roll your hips against him experimentally.

“Aah, f-fuck!” Shigaraki throws his head back, immediately faltering under you at the unexpected stimulation. It sends electricity through your body, and your hips buck again involuntarily, while you feel your cunt clenching around nothing.

“F-Fucking stop, I’m serious!” he uselessly warns you again, voice low and coarse, hands reaching to push you off. Your inner thighs press tightly against his sides to secure yourself, and you snort in reply.

“What’s wrong? Gonna cum in your pants from just a little friction?” you taunt him shamelessly, “Surely, our number one villain can handle a little more action than this. Don’t tell me you’re a pathetic quickshot that gets off on ugly bimbos dry humping him.” 

You watch his furious red eyes wanting—promising—to get back at you, his jaw clenching and his trembling hands hovering over your hips, before tangling his fingers with the fabric covering them, knuckles turning white. 

It does little to scare you, and you fully take advantage of the stun, going ahead and rolling your hips once more, only pressing harder this time. 

You feel the length of his erection against your clothed cunt and you wish you could feel it better, because despite talking a big game you can’t help but shiver every time your clit is pressed against his dick, regardless of the layers of clothing that separated you.

“Fuck—I said stop it!” His eyes shut tight as he tries and fails to shove you off of him. He’s breathing heavy and quick, the sight of his flustered face only spurring you on. 

You grab his shaky wrists and lean yourself in, pressing his hands flat on the ground and pinning him under you. He opens his eyes and stares at you in a daze. It makes you feel powerful like this. 

You’re on top of Shigaraki Tomura, the guy who desperately wants to completely and utterly destroy you.

You slow down, almost coming to a halt and you huff over his face, smiling angrily. “Did you fucking stop when I told you to? When I begged you to?”

It doesn’t matter, because you don’t give him time to answer, opting to pick up the pace instead, and feeling frustrated because it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough, but he’s not the only one losing control. 

You watch him pant under you, letting you take what you want and doing his fucking best to not spill himself inside his pants because of you, and that thought excites you. 

It excites you so much, you start feeling pleasure pooling up in your lower abdomen. Your back arches slightly and you fail miserably to hold back your own pathetic voice from moaning above him. It feels—feels really fucking good. You want him to get you off, and that thought leaves you as aroused as you felt disgusted, the mix of emotion quickly overwhelming you.

“Y-You—You fucking—hnngh! You fucking brat!” Shigaraki groans, digging his nails into his palms as he lets you move, struggling not to come undone but feeling painfully close every time you move your fucking hips. Every time you spoke to him. 

His head is reeling, watching you hump him like an animal, seeing you getting off on him. Because of him.

And he wants so much more.

In a moment of weakness, you feel his hands slip away from your hold, creeping up on your thighs, but before you can really catch on, he rolls you off of him and onto your back, desperately pressing—slotting himself between your legs again. 

You look up at him in a daze, gasping when he begins moving against you, quickly regaining control over the situation. He looks at you, panting, the sight of your brows pinching and your soft whimpers turning him almost feral. Shigaraki swallows hard.

Were you always this fucking cute?

“You do understand that—haah—there’s going to—there’s going to be consequences to your actions, don’t you?” he groans against your ear, pulling back and grinning slyly, stretching the scars on his lips and you feel his hands shake against your thighs before gripping them tightly and rutting against you more violently. 

It hurts. But it hurts really fucking good, and you’ll never admit how easily he’d be able to push you over with just his stupid fucking voice. You’ll never admit it, but your body is traitorous, and he can see what he’s doing to you. 

Shigaraki then fucking kisses you, a tentative rough peck on your soft lips, if only to silence your growing cries. A new feeling then arises within him, and it’s a dark realization. Nobody else should be allowed to hear you like this. Nobody but him.

You gasp when he bites your lip and he takes it as permission to slip his tongue in, rolling it over your own with little to no technique, teeth clicking while he sinfully swallows your depraved moans. Anyone could hear you but you’re too fucking dumb to care right now, the prospect filling him up with giddiness as he’s enthusiastically devouring you.

He eventually slows down, lips barely touching yours as you manage to catch your breath. A needy groan escapes you when he leans in to bite your neck so hard, you think it’ll leave a mark. Shigaraki smiles against your throat and you feel it—feel him being on top of the world. 

Just a second longer, he thinks. 

A second longer before he’ll take you to the back of his car and fuck you senseless where no one can interrupt you. 

“Hey, shh. You don’t wanna get caught while we’re in the hallway, do you? Unless you’re into that, you nasty little bi—”

Your eyes widen and in an instant, you shove him off of you.

It takes him by surprise, but it doesn’t matter to you, because what the actual fuck were you doing? 

In public. 

With him!

“Hey,” he says, voice low as to not startle you further, obvious concern on his face. You don’t pay attention because you’re busy stumbling backwards, finding your bag and standing up on shaky legs.

“No. No, no, no—” 

A panic attack sets you off and you step backwards like a wounded animal.

“Wait. Wait! Don’t fucking go—! Goddamn it, just—wait!” Shigaraki gets up and reaches for you, but you’re quick to pull away, bolting for the exit and out of his reach. Always just out of his reach. Both of his hands move to his throat to dig into that familiar itch, to scratch it until there’s nothing but blunt pain and blood under his fingernails.

Tomura feels hurt. You were so good for him a moment ago, as was he for you. 

Why are you acting this way now? Why are you rejecting him—again? 

He desperately tries to push this feeling down, to not let it surface, but he isn’t clueless as to what it is exactly that he felt. He just doesn’t want to admit it. Or rather was taught not to admit to it, to this weakness.

He has to destroy it. To own it.

Why is it that you’re so fucking different? He didn’t expect to feel or act any differently with you than he did with everyone else who pissed him off before. 

So he’d put you in a box, where you sit comfortably next to everything he’s not able to categorize, like his indescribable fear of dogs. 

That’s right, you’re a fucking anomaly. 

But unlike the other ones that he stores in this box, he doesn’t want to destroy you anymore. 

On the contrary, Tomura would like to conquer you. To own you. 

That’s the kind of anomaly you are. An anomaly he—

Tomura’s breath hitches, hands stopping the self-inflicted abuse and dropping at his sides as his eyes widen.

An anomaly he likes.

[thelampisaflashlight]

Because I'm decompressing from work, here's some random chicken information, because why not?

-Chickens can eat a variety of foods, and will, in fact, eat their own eggs from time to time.

Actually, some farmers will feed their chickens eggs AND the eggshells to give them back some calcium/protein.

-Chicken feed comes in a couple of form factors, but most birds will either eat layer pellet/crumble or starter/grower feed.

Grower feed is typically fed to young birds or chickens intended for meat purposes, and it mostly comes in crumble form.

It's also sometimes used to help sustain mixed flocks (such as those containing other birds, such as ducks) or as a non-medicated started for chicks being raised on an organic diet. (Additional note that you shouldn't feed medicated starter to ducklings, because it can be very bad for them/make them ill unless it is specifically made for them.)

Whereas layer feeds are given to adult birds who have already started laying, and usually has added calcium for their eggs.

-Chicks start eating grit at about two weeks old, grit being small stones to help aid in their digestion, sometimes supplemented with probiotics.

-Chicks need to be kept in a brooder (a tub or other container) under a heat lamp until they reach about four weeks old, because they don't have their adult feathers and can't maintain warmth very well.

-There's more than a thousand chicken breeds in the world, but you're probably only going to have, at most, a couple hundred available to you; Chickens have different temperaments, levels of "hardiness", broodiness, and egg laying amounts, so it's important to do research ahead of time before getting them.

-Chickens are social animals and need friends to thrive, while a single chicken can lead a perfectly content life, they tend to do better with a friend.

-Chickens are domestic birds, so they cannot survive out in the wild long term; Chickens, especially chicks purchased around holidays, are often released under the false belief that they're being "set free" or will be okay.

They can and will die, and I don't like to sugarcoat it or beat around the bush in regards to it, because it is legitimately a problem.

And lastly, a bonus duck note of a similar vein;

-If you get a duck as a pet, if you believe you might not be able to care for them after they get bigger, do your research ahead of time and find a sanctuary that will take them or post locally to find them a new home; DO NOT drop them off at a random feed store because your college aged daughter got bored of them and shirked her responsibilities onto you and make it the employees responsibility to take care of three extra ducks.

There are rescues and organizations that will take them for free.

That one is more specific because, whoo boy, that happened, I think 1-2yrs ago?

So my ass was stuck caring for three extra animals that were NOT happy to be there, because they were outside of their home for the first time in their entire lives... and also our ducks were bullying them.

Well, one was.

In the defense of Mrs. Quack, it was her house.

[sburbian-sage]

so i was gonna send this in last night but i decided to wait so i could proof read it and what not and now here i am basically re writing it

so first things first im gonna need you to have an open mind please, everything im about to say is gonna sound like bullshit, utter complete fucking bullshit and even if you dont believe me its still true because sburbs bullshittery seemingly knows no fucking bounds

there is currently a fucking massive void vessel above the session, like it vanishes into the ring on both sides and im sure it keeps going, brilliant white with leaf green highlights

was gathering some grist and it just fucking teleported it or some shit cause one second it wasn't there and then it was and it scared the fuck out of me

i spoke with the plant chick last night and while i learned some things it clearly wasn't enough because what the fuck is this?!

im hiding out of derse now and its just empty, there's no more of the little Carapacians, the 5 of our lands are also gone and i can see smaller ships going around frantically scanning local space so i assume they know i happened to get off land before it was taken (how do you take an entire land?!?!)

but before i get murderharvested or some shit here's what i was able to figure out

i managed to nab one of her computers and found that their language is seemingly similar to old alternian standard but it doesn't match to English at all and is more flowy? than jagged, as well as the letters seemingly having 2-5 characters stacked on one another, far beyond my translation capabilities

when i asked the difference between sessions she just said that there was less bees (what???)

didn't have enough time to see any structural changes from normal, other than more plants and things being kinda taller

when i asked culture questions she just laughed, called me a "curious cutie" (not sure i like how i feel about that) and said id learn soon which like FUCK ME was that a red flag apparently

not sure what to do anymore, im a rogue of void for fucks sake and even turning into nothing isn't enough to shake them, they find me within an hour and i have to flee, managed to pull off that teleportation trick that the other poster talked about but even that doesn't shake them, sending this out and then ill start moving again

ill keep in touch if i stay alive

I WAS JOKING. I WAS MAKING A JOKE WHEN I SUGGESTED SHE WAS TRYING TO CONTACT HOME BASE TO BOMB YOU GUYS TO OBLIVION AND DO GIGA-SPACE-COLONIALISM. I WASN'T MAKING A PREDICTION. FUCK.

And you are right, this does kinda sound like bullshit. There's mild precedent here, in that it is technically theoretically possible that before Entry happens and SBURB fucks an entire planet in half, that some of said homeworld's inhabitants might have boarded a ship, went into space, and managed to enter the Furthest Ring. I mean, that would require incredible foresight, highly advanced technology, surviving long enough despite the fact that the game is literally designed to kill non-players in the most ass-pull deus ex machina fashion possible, and that it is virtually impossible to enter the Furthest Ring without a Bargain. So it's a bit like sending Frosty the Snowman to the Sahara Desert to win a gladiator competition, and once he wins he has to do round two against a flamethrower squadron. Which is to say, I'll eat my own legs before I believe that you're being invaded by The Imperium of Man meets the fucking Vegandon from Johnny Test. Among the thousands of other severe questions this raises.

But on the off-chance that this isn't just a prank, here's my equally low-effort advice.

Running may not be able to solve your problems. You are a Rogue of Void who can teleport. This makes you THE most qualified person to break into their ship and sabotage the engines so shit explodes.

Running may be able to solve your problems. If you survive long enough, SBURB might suddenly remember that it's supposed to kill non-SBURB non-player entities, and so the flowery ground troopers might start tripping and shooting themselves in the fall, or the ship explodes anyway.

Threaten to Scratch the Session to get them to back off. It's basically the mother of all "I'm taking you all with me" threats, considering it will rewrite reality.

Actually, they might not know enough about the Scratch for that to intimidate them. Scratch anyway. Fuck these guys, they'll never suspect it and an alt-universe version of you gets the last laugh.

If they corner you, start coughing on them. If you win re-enacting the ending of War of the Worlds, that would be incredibly funny.