#like thats a lot of attempting to get my take. youd have to be p open minded and patient.

[fnlbeautifca]

its getting close to my birthday and i have brainrot soo DOL LIs when its your birthday!!

if not specified, it will assume highest love :3c for some (great hawk specifically T_T) im not 100% sure on, so im sorry if its not accurate to the character… i did my best…

alex: most likely forgets about it until they check the calendar for today while making breakfast. i think they would make pancakes with a heart shape drawn on the top :3c the day is the same as any other, except by the end of it they give you a gift that is of your imagination ^^

avery: i feel like they might take you on a date, but actually ask for preference this time. it really depends on how much they like you… miiiight get you some flowers or maybe some nice jewlery

black wolf: doesnt really understand. but happy to spend the day with you anyway ^^ theyre just a little guy dont fault them here..!! maybe theyll bring you a dead deer or something

eden: probably got your birthday info from bailey, and makes you their best attempt at a cake. im not sure how good at cooking/baking they are, i hc them as being good at making edible, necessary foods like stew (but thats off topic!) i think they would make their best attempt at a small cake, and of course youd spend the day together. MIGHT indulge a night on the town if you ask really nicely and they like you a lot

great hawk: brings you nice little trinkets as a gift and maybe somehow steals a sweet treat from a [convenient place]… maybe flies you around a little. very romantic

kylar: obviously already knows its your birthday whether you told them or not; gives you a gift tailored to your exact interest/or needs at the moment + flowers and a cute card. insists that you spend the day out with them… please go out with them. they will be sad T_T

robin: gives you a handmade gift + card… if able to, they might buy you something small (cheap stuffed toy or maybe a book you mentioned to want)… they would like to spend the day with you and would be overjoyed if you invited them out on a birthday outing :3c

sydney: (p!syd idk how c!syd acts im sorry…) depending on their love, as a friend theyd get you a card and small gift. with higher love, theyd still get you a gift and a card and maybe some flowers… they also want to spend the day with you, and if you want to go out with them on your special day, theyd be over the moon :3!!! i imagine a romantic stroll on the beach…

whitney: last but not least!!!! depending on their love they might not know or care. if they know its your birthday and theyre at low love and high dom, theyd probably make you go out and do some mischief with them. with high love, i can see them getting you a cheap gift (probably a stuffed animal tbh) and flowers IF theyre feeling especially nice today. what are you looking at them for? its no big deal. they dont even care about you. they just felt like it today. for no particular reason. :3c (still makes you go out with them for a birthday date. if its a rainy day i can see it as a romantic walk in the park with a couple of milkshakes. simple! but thats okay :3c)

[synthshenanigans]

What platform do you use to make your art?

Also any tips for very new artists who are bad at art

IbisPaint X!! Its free & im p sure its on most devices (i use my phone for like 90% of my art).

But sometimes ill plan out or make a rough draft of a piece on my tablet. Its an amazon one so its got like NO art apps...at all. But the best ive found thats free & its called ArtFlow!

As for tips about art, im like the worst at answering that since 90% of when im drawing im just fuckin around and attempting to find out. Most I can think of to say is below! [its a bit long oops]

1. Have fun with finding your style. My art style almost changes every year if not like multiple times a year. Hell if you look at how i drew HMS in like, March it looks very different than how i draw them now. But every time it changes i feel more confident in it! Also its just fun sometimes to draw in a different way :}

2. Its 100% chill if you ever feel burntout or feel like ya "lost the touch". Feel like its said a lot but you do get out of that pit (haha get it like the song) eventually and youll prolly even make something ur hella proud of! Also if its not goin great its good to take a br8k and maybe try the next day. Sometimes ya just be in a funk and its best to make sure ur all hydrated n rested. And a much as i don't listen to myself sometimes, those things rlly do help

3. Last thing i can think of is that its sometimes real difficult to find a good reference of somethin. Whether it be like a pose, an outfit or something, you can always use yourself as a ref! For things like a ref to look at or even to use as a base. And of course not everyone like taking a photo of themself (me included) but its not only very helpful and takes less time than searching through pinterest & google for like an hour, but helps you get confident in yourself! Ive never be confident in myself (specially with that gender dysphoria an all) but it helps to take a photo in a pose, outfit or even a half ass cosplay. Gettin used to yourself in a photo might take a bit but it takes you a good way.

Sorry if this didnt help im not quite good at tips and teaching things. If youd like more ideas/help with things like shading or somethin, id be happy to post a vid of like a speedpaint or something on how i color n stuff :}

Hope this helps!!! 💜

[transhoverfish]

I FOUND IT

Like I get where this person is comming from but when Ryley landed on 4546B Bart would be 29

I think that the game made it very clear that the Degasi crashed a decade before Aurora and Bart was 19 at that time.. which means (in combination of Subnautica lore and math) that IF Bart survived the 10 long years he would obviously age up

Maybe reading the PDAs is something that should be done even if you wouldn't get addicted to the game... just saying🤷🏻‍♀️

[I just remembered that I saw someone on Instagram ranting about how shipping Ryley and Bart is weird (or 'fucked up', I don't remember exactly what they said) because Ryley is like 25-30 or something like that and Bart is 19 and I was like "do your math pls" So yeah... I ended up laughing for like 5 minutes (Too bad I didn't take a screenshot)]

yeah ok i get the concern here but like yeah as you said!! this isnt like one of those "taking a 15yo and aging them up to 18 to make them legal", bart's already 19, and he's 19 a DECADE before the events of the game, including any possibility of meeting ryley.

assuming ryley is 25-30 - which his age is never mentioned either, so for all we know, ryley could be 19 himself!! - but we're gonna assume he's 22-30 based on his job, general appearance and maturity in a high stress situation. in the ten years that pass between bart and ryley EVER crossing paths, bart would be 26-31, give or take a few years for that mentioned decade to be possibly rounded.

bart could be OLDER than ryley for all we know. worse case, these guys can't have more than like, maybe a 6 year age gap. and that's entirely dependent on someone's personal reading of ryley. his age is NEVER mentioned or hinted at. the youngest he could be is 18. oldest maybe 40. but who's to say?? it's never brought up!

taking the decade jump into account though,, yeah ryley and bart are like the same age. they're probably within 5 years of each other, both in their late twenties by the events of sub1. its just the time skip between the degasi and aurora that creates this weird "Bart's 19, Ryley's 26" mentality.

like an example off the top of my head would be like, saying you cant ship nathan drake with chloe because they show nate as a kid a couple of times. kind of arbitrary.

but on the other hand, yeah, i guess this ship is founded on bart's 19 year old personality. which is weird at face value now that im thinking about it. but even then, ryley doesn't have a personality to begin with, outside survival knowledge. and bart clearly isn't some super naive child; he goes through some massive maturing character development just over the span of the months the degasi were all alive. bart can clearly take care of himself and speak up on problems, and we don't know if he had another birthday after the crash or not. we don't know exactly how long the degasi were there! or how long they had been in space prior! bart could have been 20 when he died, he was definitely an adult by that point. young, but cmon.

if anybody is shipping bart in degasi era, where he's like explicitly 19, ie shipping him with marg, then YEAH thats obviously a problem. but ryley/bart is, in my experience, almost always written in a bart lives story where he spends 10 more years maturing before being introduced to ryley.

they're,,,, they're the same age. almost always, if theres some odd story out there making it not always, expressly written where bart is nearly 30, making him typically older than ryley. the central idea with this person's take is that bart is not, and should not, be written as his Recent Post-Crash self. bart is Post Reaper Incident, and gets added several more years on top of that. i think it's a misconstruction on the lore/fandom ideas of ages, but otherwise not a horrible thing to point out ig??

(some of the bart ships DEFINITELY NEED TO BE LOOKED INTO. ryley is like, the most tame option, and thankfully why its likely the most popular!)

[foulserpent]

ok. the likes:reblogs ratio on here is never going to improve, and focusing on the likes:reblogs ratio will not help you as an artist (long post under cut)

also to be EXPLICITLY clear this is talking about broad issues applicable to every artist on the site. dont use this to shut down or ignore artists of color discussing how theyre treated compared to white artists. dont use this to shut down marginalized artists in general talking about how art addressing their identity or real world issues is ignored or tokenized. these are entirely separate issues. if youre reading this and thinking “yeah, these people should stop complaining!” fuck off and block me.

but yeah:

this is a microblogging platform that is designed around individual users curating the content of a blog and of their dashboard. what you reblog is put directly onto the dashboards of the people who follow you. the reblog function is designed as the main tool of curation, with the additional ability to be a sort of "reply" function, (though the way this is applied can be garish hence why its far more common to talk in tags)

‘likes’ on this site serve little to no algorithmic function noticeable to the average user (i dont know how they affect the search function, which is a fucking mess anyway and is barely used). the ‘like’ functionally is near-EXCLUSIVELY a method of communication, saying “i like this” “ive read this” “i agree with this”. this usage is so ubiquitous that most people will never actually look Through their likes, and may use drafts to save posts instead

with this in mind, the reason likes will always outstrip reblogs is that ‘liking’ is a very simple form of communication, while ‘reblogging’ functions as much as a tool as it does for communication. if someone likes a drawing but doesnt really want to reblog it, theyll "like" it to say "i like this". this is not someones confused attempt to provide you exposure, this is a form of communication.

additionally, reblogs on art will usually dwindle as they get farther from the source. most of your reblogs will be from followers who like Your work personally, understand Your takes on characters, etc, and unless a post "blows up" due to mass appeal reblogs will dwindle as the post spreads.

point being, the ratio will always be bad. there is no amount of demanding people change their behavior that will actually change how the site functions.

the goal of the “always reblog art you like” sentiment is usually for artists to get economic support, so im going to address it from this angle: if you arent getting reblogs on art without having to guilt trip people into it, you are not going to be getting many (if any) commissions at this time. thats just the reality. that doesnt make you a failure, or mean youll never get to that point, but it does mean you are not currently in a position where that’s going to happen.

reblogs also dont equal money, new followers, commissioners. like OF COURSE on a technical level, if every drawing you posted got lots of reblogs, youd likely net a follower or two, and that would add to potential customers. but thats just in theory. someone reblogging because they see "reblogs>likes" is substantially less likely to check you out and follow you than someone reblogging out of genuine interest. like most people on here dont have tons of money to throw around, so most commissions come from people who have followed you for a while and have a personal attachment to your art. the commissions i get that Arent from longtime followers are nigh-exclusively either niche aspects of my skillset, or p*rn lol.

if you are intending to make money off art (let alone an entire CAREER out of art) you absolutely need to find peace with this. if your self worth and ability to do art is wholly reliant on online engagement, you are going to get burned out before you ever get there. this isnt saying "pull yourself up by the bootstraps and WORK!!!!" its saying "if you dont find peace with this somehow you are going to not be able to make art". it sucks but this is not going to change anytime soon.

and like, part of this problem is just that its not peoples moral responsibility to be constantly providing ‘exposure’ to all art. like, the angle is that in this horrible capitalist system, we need to support each other. and yet youre also asking for this "support" to be purely transactional, for everyone who sees your art to be a customer or a networking opportunity. i think thats fair to ask when it comes to say, commission posts (which are literally About getting customers and networking), but not just every individual piece of art itself.

if you struggle with this and with self esteem from online engagement, id suggest reframing it- first of all understand that peoples "likes" (while being no substitute for real communication) are a compliment. liking and not reblogging isnt an insult, its saying "i like this (and dont necessarily want it on my blog)". would you really rather that people engage with you as an act of charity or pity than in earnest? will getting hollow reblogs from people only doing it because youll get mad otherwise actually help your self esteem?

and i know some people reading this rn might not want to hear all this from someone who they may perceive as a "popular artist". so please understand that i didnt come on here fully formed getting notes on my art (and also like, 'popular artist' on here usually means 'can pay a bill with art money sometimes'. im still living paycheck to paycheck). ive been posting art on the internet since ~2010 and ive only been able to get Any attention on my original stuff in the past few years. i got absolutely zero commissions the first few times i tried. even once my art started getting traction, it was only fandom content. if i based my self esteem on online engagement, i would have quit art before i left highschool.

so yeah, bottom line. there is no amount of asking people to change their behavior that will actually lead to a site not built for being an exposure vehicle to become one. ive been seeing variants of these posts pretty much my entire decade or so on this site. we need to collectively put that energy somewhere else

i really cant claim to know the solution, but i think one thing that weve lost that would help A LOT would be the return of like, curated blogs focusing on a specific topic. there used to be all these “fuck-yeah-[topic]” blogs that would just aggregate content about a topic, or a certain kind of art. like i used to follow ones that focused on ‘monster people’ art. theyd just scour tags and reblog any art related to the subject, and they were widely followed and engaged with, so they provided a lot of visibility to obscure artists. this form of curation is also fairly natural to how this site functions, hence why it Actually Worked to some degree

some of those blogs still exist, but they arent anywhere NEAR as central to the ecoystem as they used to be. i think individual communities on here producing these and working to get them noticed would be a HUGE help to a lot of artists

another behavior i think that Can be changed is just commenting more. like if you have a compliment in mind about someones art, say it! even if you dont reblog. i dont compliment everything i enjoy (bc i dont always have a specific compliment in mind and dont want to just bullshit one) but if i do have anything ill say it. what most people really want is communication and personal investment. of course, please dont turn this into that deviantart "dont fave without commenting" bs, this should be like. human interaction and not just another transaction.

the other aspect is how the tag system is fairly irrelevant and the search function is broken. in the past, browsing tags was a pretty standard thing for a lot of users. now, a lot of newer users dont even know the tag function still Exists outside of search. the tagging system was never super organized, but it used to be more of a thing that some tags functioned as loose communities. i think this could be improved through active intent to do so by the userbase, but theres little incentive to do so bc the tag and search system is broken.

and i dont know like Anything about web design, so im just gonna state what i would Like to see in theory, but some of this might be impractical. the search function needs to be fixed. every post tagged with a keyword should appear in searches for that keyword, none of the “only some of them seemingly at random” bullshit. there needs to be a clear and understandable algorithm to how searches are organized, with fully functional "sort by new" options, maybe “popular today/this month/all time” options based on both likes and reblogs. the search function needs to become a way that people can look for content in an organized capacity.

i also think that they Could introduce some degree of categorization for original posts. this would have to be very broad since this isnt just an art site, but you should at least be able to categorize your post as “art” and then be able to filter your searches to search for “art” results. this would re-incentivize use of the hypothetical improved search/tag system, and could be a great organizational tool if it was actually implemented properly.

ofc all that is something that tumblr staff would have to do and its not like theyre reading this or like they tend to Ever address user complaints, but i dont think wider demand for this sort of thing would hurt either. at this point im kind of just hoping for the near biblical level miracle of "potential art site designers see these sorts of complaints and create a new art platform that addresses these issues and it gets a huge userbase and we all have a great time" or "deviantart second coming". but i hope this is at least constructive and gives you something to think about . my final message, goodbye....

[dreamdropsystemarchive]

I've been doing some research on spells, and I'll attempt one soon if things work out..I wish you guys luck for the spell stuff too! Sending some good vibes 🪄

And of course! Not being believed and invalidated is a pretty bad feeling, so I make sure to believe everyone and take them seriously. You guys are very real, and I know I said it a lot, but y'all are valid.

I'm sorry you guys have to deal with that though.. it's tough not feeling attached to the body you live in, and it's hard being in it when it looks so much different than how you see yourself as..

And that makes sense.. I bet communication is very hard, since there's all these things at play..

I hope everything goes well with Star and Faith when that happens too! And that's okay! You guys can talk more about your experiences if you'd like..

And hmm for me.. I get really bad intrusive thoughts, and voices telling me to do things to hurt myself. Sometimes they'll tell me to cut off parts of my body (mainly legs, eyes, feet, and hands sometimes), and well.. I don't know how to deal with it in a healthy way, so I end up doing different things to cause myself pain when it's really bad and strong. Sometimes though, I'll pull my arm out of my sleeve and tuck my hand into my pocket and pretend it's not there. It's very hard to resist the voices and ignore the intrusive thoughts sometimes. Some ways I try to deal with it are writing down my thoughts and writing poems about why I want those body parts off.

Emotions are very weird and confusing, especially when there are so many you're experiencing at the same time.. intense emotions are also awful because they hurt a lot. Having to repress things sucks.. it makes you want to do them more, but you just can't cause there are people around. I get that too.. there are so many things I want to do and it's like aah, where do I begin? I hate medication too, it tastes awful among other things.

I'm not doing so well if I'm being honest, but it's okay. Currently I'm just watching my siblings and taking care of them since my parents have been gone, but I've also been just listening to music and watching some videos in the free time. How are you guys doing?

And of course! I like talking with you guys :}

:P I'm kinda awkward though since I'm not sure how to have conversations most of the time, but I try..

-🌺

hi 🌺 anon!

we have a inactive account that has a bunch of baby witch content we should look into that but maybe later cause we've been looking at so much stuff rn. some alters work on their own magic, but we need to do more research so we can have more accurate spells and magic and stuff! we wish you luck on that too!

thank you. being invalidated sucks.. but we deal with imposter syndrome already, people invalidating us hurts more. on all our mental health issues. we were told as a kid we were NOT going through what we we're going through so we shut down. we're trying to cope and open up to our mental health team. its going well.

yes its definitely hard when we dont identify with the body. a lot of us hurt the body. we're working on treated the body better but our ED is making us restrict all day and binge at night (sometimes b/p) and it sucks and we're trying to lose weight to be more comfortable in the body. we have some wigs thats similar to some alters's hair. some alters wear makeup, were starting to collect clothes alters can wear that they can find at least one thing they can wear while out and stuff like that.

communication is hard. its gotten a little better since Unn has been around jumping in headspaces. the gatekeeprs sometimes bring alters from other subsystems bring to the main system/headspace for a period of time or the gatekeepers being carers/caretakers/caregivers etc to other subsystems to help for some time.

Star and Faith got help taking the limbs off they needed off and they're very happy. they can talk about it when theyre out. Shane is cocon and they can talk about BIID if youd like. do you have any questions about it? I (Andy) was cretaed with my legs amputated below the knee but I do struggle with it when I front cause I want the body to look like how i look. so i guess i deal with it too when i front. Shane, Star, Faith (and possibly others) deal with it too. Wanting limbs to be gone, and for Shane their left eye. But they need both their eyes and our eyes are already bad... but they struggle with that. and other limbs

we get that. we deal with the same issue. vocies telling us to do bad things to others and ourselves, please he safe. Shane does that with their arms a lot. In headspace their legs are amputated below the knee and whe they daydream its the same, sometimes their arms too. Shane numbs their legs a lot by laying on them then pretend theyre not there. we also daw with phantom limbs. tails, wings, ears, etc. we get how hard it is.. stay safe please 🌺 anon.. Writing and drawing is a good way to cope.

emotions are very hard. and very confusing .we're sorry. we get that. we're here for you. medication is hard too. its hard being mentall ill. we suggest and hope you can talk to a professional like a therapist or school counselor if youre in school. maybe try talking to your gaurdian? or go to the doctor and tell them youre feeling depressed and anxious and need to talk to a therapist/professional. we hope the best. try to advocate for youself. you deserve help.

nice youre such a good big sibby watching over them.. so sorry we took so long to reply. what are you watching? we had a med meeting this morning, we missed our chiropractor appointment so we had to reschedule. were just pacing and listening to music. what are you up to? how are you doing? im not feeling the greatest but im protecting Shane and the sysem. a bit overwhelmed cause the gatekeepers are probably gonna introduce us to more alters... anyways hope your doing well cant wait for your reply - Andy and Shane (cocon)

[ursoself-satisfying]

Whole Lotta Love

P A T  M U R R A Y (Undrafted) x F!Reader, SMUT 

Warnings: smut, lots of it, language, like all the sex guys all of it guys,,, SPOILER: UNSAFE SEX THEY DISCARD THE CONDOM WRAP IT BEFORE U TAP IT BOYS N GIRLS

A/N: this is my zenic,, its 10k words n I am v tired,,,, I hope you all enjoy sorry its late lol

an accompanying playlist: https://open.spotify.com/user/criceloni/playlist/5sP9FcSsFcPjFodxN1E5RY?si=dNK4SdE2RoSRcqhN99dntg 

The engine of your car sputtered weakly as you turned the key for the third time. You pursed your lips and grunted as you screwed your whole arm around, twisting the key in the ignition again. The hot sun beat against the grimy, untinted windows of the old van and your skin boiled under the magnification of the glass. Drops of sweat limply slipped down the side of your face, sizzling when they hit the leather between the seats. The day was nice, but the interior of the vehicle was sweltering and stunk of burgers and sex. You groaned loudly and threw your head back tiredly. With your eyes closed, you tiredly and hopelessly went to turn the car on one last time, dreading the spitting sound that you expected to greet you. You were indeed greeted by the same annoying noise, burned into your eardrums by now, but it faded after a moment, the harsh metallic sounds blending into a solid purr as the engine started, radio turning on to the classic rock station. Shooting up out of your seat in shock, both at the sound and the unexpected success, your hands slammed against your steering wheel and your mouth hung open. “Oh my God,” you muttered, “Oh my God! Thank you, God!” You shouted at the roof of the car and you let out a dry sob. The wet lines down your face could have been sweat or tears, or both at this point. Loud thrums echoed through the cabin of the vehicle as you drummed your hands against the soft roof excitedly, shaking your head in a grateful spasm of relief. “YES! Oh my God, yes, thank you.” The soft whispers left your lips in the form of a laugh and you gripped the steering wheel tightly, taking a deep breath and smiling widely. The next thing you did was roll down the windows and sigh as the clear, blue sky blessed you with fresh air, letting The Who play you out. The gas pedal was pushed down and you made your way from the curb where you’d been sitting for the last half an hour. The VW bus bounced, “My Generation” fading as you turned a corner and made your way to the game.

Your sputtering horseless carriage shuttered to a stop and felt like it would cave in and collapse once in park. With a shake, you turned off on a ‘don’t text and drive’ PSA, the engine and rolled up the dirty windows. Manually locking the door behind you, you exited the rusted green car and headed towards the greener field. You rolled your eyes as you passed a large bus undoubtedly belonging to the opposing team. You doubted it was necessary and would have guessed it was more of a petty power move if anything. A small group of people, not yet a crowd, was gathered by the fences of the baseball field watching the game. It had already begun and you’d missed the first few innings. You searched the crowd for a familiar figure until you spotted a red shirt and jogged over to it. “Brian!”

The man turned to see you waving your hand happily above your head. He turned once he recognized you and laughed heartily with open arms. “[Y/N]!”

Once you reached him, he wrapped his strong arms around you and lightly picked you up. You did your best to return the embrace but he held you too tightly. His cotton button up smelled strongly of a flower-scented detergent and a gas station, comforting and familial. Your laughs mixed and you remained leaned against him when he put you down. “Mr. Murray,” you started playfully, “How are you on this fine day?” The older man patted your back and chuckled.

“Well, I could be doing a hell of a lot better.” Brian looked out at the game, Barone at-bat, and took a deep sigh. You scanned his face with concern, catching the glaze of sadness in his eyes. You softly placed a hand on his shoulder, unsure of what happened exactly, but having an idea.

You turned your head back and look around you for Brian’s almost other half, but seeing the older Mazzello nowhere. You felt safe enough to ask, “He didn’t get it, did he? John-” He shook his head quickly, not turning towards you. You wanted to ask how Pat was taking it but you could figure it out based on your past experiences. You weren’t sure Brian would know at this point anyway. For a moment, you just watched the game. Barone wouldn’t slide and Ty was clearly upset. All you could hear were the curse words carried to you by the light wind picking up. You squeezed Brian’s arm gently and gave him a sympathetic smile, before gulping and beginning to say something. “So then where’s-”

Joe walked up beside Brian and handing him a bottle of water from his trip to concessions. The shorter man glanced over and stopped when he caught sight of you. “Oh, [Y/N]-”

“Hey, Joe,” you replied softly. The man beside stepped back to allow you to give a quick embrace to the new arrival. You stepped back and smiled, biting your lip. “I’m sorry,” you spoke quickly, “He deserved it. John’s-” A stifled laugh interrupted your sentence, but you continued, “Not that I would know, but he’s the best, I hear. He should have gotten it. That’s- That’s so stupid-”

“He’s got some offers, but there’s not much we can do now that it’s over.” Leaning against the fence, the dark-haired man took a swig from the bottle he held and smiled faintly back at you though he kept his attention on the game before him. “Now we just play.”

Though you’d missed the first five innings at least, Brian filled you in on how the game had gone on with as many bumps and hitches as you could possibly imagine. The D-Backs were down (though you honestly wouldn’t have expected otherwise) and hoped for a comeback. Ty interrupts Barone’s play to demand he dirty his uniform, a call is unfairly continued and Ty (again) interrupts and demands his complaint be noted, which had been happening just as you’d arrived.

You were there just in time to see Pat’s second at-bat. “C’mon, baby, you got this! Hit it out of the fuckin’ park!” You were screaming and hollering encouragements at your boyfriend. His father chuckled and gave you a side-eyed glance, a glint of understanding gleaming on his face, seeing again why you and his son got on so well. “He’s not gonna get a hit,” you said quietly to the man beside you, not taking your eyes off the boy at bat.

Brian nodded, smiling. “Never does.” Both of watched as the third pitch was thrown and Pat unsurprising did not get a home run. He let out a long and frustrated scream and hit the bat against his helmet instead before heading to the dugout. The bat Pat had used broke against the fence pole as he hit it repeatedly and cursed the ‘loaded fucking bases’.

Pat then ran to his position in the outfield as he was told but it was clear he hadn’t cooled down yet by his continued yells. If you knew Pat Murray, you knew what he sounded like when he said ‘fuck’. By now, his curses were carved into your ears and you could hear them in your dreams. He yelled and yelled as the game continued, with some concern shown by his teammates and some confusion by the competition. Vinnie had attempted to diffuse the situation by engaging in a friendly game of catch between bats but Murray firmly stuck the ball in the scoreboard. He very nearly took Zapata’s head off.  

“Is he like this at home?” The elder Murray let a smile tweak his lips upwards for a moment, then looked away from the comment. You leaned over the fence n suppressed a laugh at what John had said.

As the game went on, you could tell things would only get worse until it all imploded, and you were right. Brian shared a tired, knowing look with you as you could both hear him yelling from the dugout. “YOU THROW LIKE A BITCH AND YOU BAT AT .250!”

Brian rocked back and look between you and his friend, shaking his head. “Patrick, relax!”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP, DAD!”

He nodded and leaned back against the fence. “That’s my boy.” Laughing, you bounced against his side. John shrugged his shoulders and gave an exaggerated frown of acceptance. The game lasted a while before another notable event occurred. This time, was an unsportsmanlike fight erupting after an unfair play and a sudden injury. It all happened so quickly it was hard to comprehend.

Garvey was slammed into the ground by an opposing player and when they hit the dirt a cloud of red dust rose around them. An audible thud echoed as the crowd went silent. Your mouth hung open and the world stood still for what felt like forever as the small catcher laid there unmoving. Then Ty erupted. He grabbed the assaulter from behind and held him down, Vinnie running to leap into a punch. That was the instigator. The rest of the team, with the exception of Fotch, raced to the scene. The riot on the field got worse and once John ran out, Joe bounced off his arms on the fence and rushed just as you had to stop his son. You could hear your boyfriend shouting and mentally cursed, knowing how this would turn out.

“Pat, fuck-” You went to lift yourself over the fence and attempt to run after your lover in an effort to keep him from hurting anyone, but his father pulled you back. He gave you a stern look and shook his head.

“I don’t need you getting in any more trouble right now.” Without anymore protest, you huffed and took your place again. Brian yelled after the boys and jogged out onto the field himself, though he was sure to look back and give you a strict but caring sign to stay back.

You had been right in your earlier assumptions, as Pat charged with a battle cry and pounced on the bobbing mass of bodies, all angrily entangled with one another. More and more athletes seemed to be absorbed into the huddle the longer it went on until it's magnitude reached the crowds of onlookers, who soon after went to join. As the fathers ripped their sons from the mess, Brian stopped a member of the other team from adding a bat to the fight, but by the time the teams had been surgically separated, enough damage had been done. Garvey was in bad, bad shape and the rest of the team was covered in scrapes and bruises, uniforms in shambles and carrying expressions that could kill.

Brian remained out on the field for a few minutes, post scuffle, and Joe went to his son at Garvey’s side. With no one left to stop you from making your way to the scene, you stepped for the first time onto the sacred ground and jogged over to the pit with a wave, “Patrick!” The man turned at his name being called and you stopped in your place when he looked at you. For a moment, you thought you saw a small smile grace his shaking lips as his eyes shone with recognition and he made his way to you. Closing the distance between the two of you, he took you into his sweaty arms and held you perfectly against him. You fit like a puzzle piece together as your own arms were slung around him. He held your head tightly to the crook of his neck and you could smell on him all the events of the day. As you inhaled the scents of dirt and a bit of blood caked onto sweat-soaked skin and leftover aftershave, maybe the hints of a citrus shampoo, you pulled handfuls of his team shirt into your balled fists. Together you swayed for a moment in the middle of the field and he muttered, “Fuck, God- Fuck, I’m so glad you’re here- So fuckin-” He stopped his profane murmurs as he bit back something directly in between happiness and anger. “I’m just so glad you’re here.”

You responded with pressed whispers against the skin of his neck ignoring the previous events and focusing on the moment you were in. “Hey,” you breathed, “I wouldn’t have missed the D-Backs’ last game for the world.”

He smiled, though you couldn’t see. His muffled response was kissed into your hair. You couldn’t quite understand what he’d said but it sounded like something along the lines of, ‘God, I fucking love you,’ which you completely reciprocated.

One hand of yours strayed from his back to his head and held the hair protruding from beneath hat. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he said again, softer this time, emphasizing how much your being there for him meant. “But I can’t fucking wait to get you alone.” He finished his statement quietly, in a voice that sent shivers down your spine, hot and dark, every vertebra quaking. His own hands mapped the back of your neck, threading his calloused, bloody fingers through your locks, holding you with a fear of losing you.

“I’m just glad you’re o-”

The quiet conversation was interrupted. “Get a room, Murray!” A voice yelled from the group of red behind him. It was most likely Barone or Polacco, the only two in a good enough mood after the previous events to pay enough attention to you to make any kind of crude comment like usual.

Pat pulled away, lips spread thin and eyes low. His hands moved to grip your upper arms tightly and he slowly turned his head back to look at the clever commentators. “Shut the FUCK UP ABOUT MY GODDAMN GIRLFRIEND!” Your eyes widen and a sheepish grin spread widely between your cheeks. When he turned back to you, you lifted your hand to hold his face. His eyes were tied to yours, but your gaze soon drifted down to the lightly bleeding scratches on his neck. You frowned and your fingertips dropped to trace over the red lines. The man holding you still, softer now, hissed at the raw contact and his pleading eyes twitched.

His hand rose to wipe at your left cheek, stained from his wound and your place in the crook of his neck. He didn’t move it though after placing it there. “You- There was some blood- Fuck, that’s so gross, I’m so fuckin’ sorry-” His head shook lightly as he stared at you, lip twitching with slight distress.

You responded with a soft laugh, breathed through your nostrils. “It’s ok- It’s ok! I’m sorry you got hurt,” you said as you wiped some of the blood from around the new wound. Pat looked pained, but your presence overcame any discomfort he had. “What a game, huh?”

You chuckled and he hummed near your ear, a pleased puff of air pushed through his nostrils. “I’m so fucking glad you’re here- It’s a better game now. I know it’s not gonna actually get better, but-” Pat moved back and looked at you with gleaming eyes. You could never resist those eyes. He seemed so hopeful since he’d learned of your arrival and you weren’t going to even think about how vain it might have been. “But you’re here, you know.”

You moved your hands swiftly to the sides of his face and pulled him down for a kiss. Though it took him a moment, he quickly pulled you against him and his plush lips pushed against yours. His arms around your waist were the only things keeping you upright as the two of you collided so passionately you arched against him. He pulled slightly back to turn his head and slip through your parted lips. He tasted of vanilla ice cream and blue raspberry Gatorade. Tongues pushing needily against each other, for just a moment, the field around you was lost and all you had was the sensation of Pat Murray buzzing through your lips.

“Ey, Murray-!” A sing-songy voice interrupted again and immediately Pat painfully yanked your face from his. With a clenched jaw and white knuckles still on your figure, he wiped the shared saliva from his mouth and looked like he was refraining from erupted in a trembling angry fit. One hand swept down the side of your face with a dazed expression of admiration and he made eye contact with you, sending you his concern through soft, hazel eyes. You felt the sudden sadness of his body leaving yours, the physical contact high of your love crashed down and you were left hot and alone. The player ran back to the benches spewing foul curses at his ogling teammates as they threw around playful jabs at his PDA. He turned to wave you off and that made you smile. You stepped backward, slowly at first, then turned to jog back to your spot at the fence.

The crowds grew but the sound shrunk. Spectators came from around the neighborhood as word of the fight had spread. It was silent now, in the aftermath. It felt like a sort of mourning period, perhaps for the final chances of the D-Backs at winning today’s game. Reverence was the word to describe what was emanating from the home team. The dugout looked morbid and the only eyes that weren't cast down were furrowed in anger, confusion, and concern. Sirens cut through the still, religious air as an ambulance and a police car drove onto the game dirt.

Two EMTs came barrelling from their vehicle with a gurney and lifted Garvey into the back of the ambulance. The teams cheered him on before the vehicle doors closed and the ambulance left the field. The last image of Garvey was that of him in a neck cast with a thumbs up and the biggest smile.

Two cops then got out of their car that had parked itself on the dirt and went over to the D-Back dugout. Vinnie and Ty sat against the fence as the policemen approached them after speaking with the umpires. “Tyler Delmonica and Vincent Maltzan?”

You watched with the fathers as you had before and smacked Brian’s arm with fever as you saw the lawmen approach the team. “What the fuck- What’s- What the fuck are they doing?” With a slightly irritated side-eyed glance, Brian observed the same scene you did with concern. The elder Mazzello on the other side of him grunted and spoke, “Nothing good.”

The two from the fence had gone over to the cops and were now in handcuffs. The entirety of the red team had come swarming from the shaded dugout to defend their friends. Curses were thrown back and forth and the policeman threatened to arrest Dells as well. “Dude, what the fuck-” you muttered.

“Finish the game!” Ty urged as he and Vinnie were dragged away. The other policeman countered Ty’s plea, announcing for an end to the gathering, at which time both teams emerged from their holes and agreed upon something for the first time. ‘We’re almost done!’ they said, ‘We’re winning!’ The crowd, which had grown exponentially since the scuffle, jeered and booed at the officer. He then complied to the masses as Maz promised they would go on with no further complications. The Bulldogs player that had put poor Garv in the hospital was expulsed and that was the end of it.

The game went on, not without some drama, of course, but it went on. It was an incredible sight. Dells was on fire, throwing out after out after out. Zapata gets a hit, Fotch walks with a dead arm (breaking Dell’s front car window in the process), then it was Pat at-bat, again.

He hit the first one and your breathing stopped, then it was announced a foul. You held tightly to his father’s arm, praying for the impossible as you did every game. The second ball went in slow motion as it headed towards him. The world stood still for you. The sudden smack of wood against hot leather shook you from your trance. Patrick ran with a fury you’d never seen before, sliding into first base in a red dust cloud of victory.

You could barely recognize your own voice in the scream you let loose as you watched your significant other accomplish such a rare feat. “YES, PATTY, YES! FUCKING GET IT!” You were jumping up and down, shaking the fence, hitting Brian when your hands weren’t waving excitedly in the air. Brian laughed at your reaction and held you with an arm when you settled down.

Patrick screamed and jumped just as you were. “I GOT A HIT!” The crowd was still roaring, the D-Backs yelling for him.

“Way to go, Pat!” Brian hugged you and wiped tears from eyes you hadn��t noticed falling before. The older man shook you affectionately against his side.

“I GUESSED! I FUCKING GUESSED!” The ginger was kept his yelling as the blue team called for time. “I’M NOT OUT!” He clapped and laughed, calling after his team as they prepped during the other team's timeout. Maybe it was just you but the air smelled sweet now, beside your considered family in an epic and cherished moment. It may have been bittersweet but it was worth savoring every second of.

“GO PALACCO! KILL HIM! MURDER HIM!” Pat was still screaming as his teammate took to the batting mound. It went Palacco, then David, then Maz. Having two strikeouts lead to your star didn’t seem like a good sign, but Maz was a miracle man. A home run, last bat, and they- They won. The D-Backs won. Maz hit home and the entire game, everything leading up to it erupted in the field and the crowds. The culmination of an entire season, all the stress of the game, the fight, the disappointment of the draft, the love of the team and the camaraderie and support they all show through all this exploded.

Red shirts were glued in a huddle at center field. “For Garvey!” You heard someone yell. Vinnie and Ty came running back on, leaping and whooping. The crowd roared and the cheers rolled over the hills beyond the field. You shook with pride, sure you must have been glowing like the sun looking out upon the victory. Brian looked on the verge of tears, but you couldn’t quite tell through wet eyes of your own. Sound seemed to escape the reality you existed in and all that mattered was the team. Time slowed and your focus went to tunnel vision on a very specific first-time hitter.

Patrick ran over to you the second you set foot on the beaten dirt of the outfield, ambushing you with the tightest embrace you may have ever been in. It took a second but you thrust your arms around him as well as he lifted you from your waist. Holding onto him around his neck, he spun you in tight circles as you both laughed heartily, buried in one another’s soft scents. As he put you down, you started to speak but he cut you off immediately by pushing his face into yours. You did not mind one bit as you resumed your position from earlier, curving against him, your front flat against his chest, hands tugging at his sweaty hair as his limbs slipped down your back. Tracing the dimples at the bottom of your spine, pulling at the hem of your shirt and letting his thumb kiss your skin. His other hand gripped your ass, wanting you impossibly closer. Your open-mouthed kiss was outlined by a smile as you groaned every time he found a new place on your body to caress. Pat was lost in your taste, like lemon cookies and cherry slushies and little league baseball games.

“C’mon, man! Your fucking dad’s here!” Zapata groaned and Palacco smacked his arm with a laugh as the team, those distracted by the couple, made faces and sounds to tease. Barone made a thrusting motion and mouthed ‘Get it!’ as his own girlfriend stood neglected behind him.

The pair of you separated to see the what antics the boys had come up with this time around. Though you thought Pat’s good mood after the win couldn’t be bent, this came awfully close. His grimace was incomparable yet that was just another reason you loved him. Somehow it was still adorable. “He’s right, you know,” you patted your lover’s dusty chest and smiled, “I’ve been hanging out with Mr. Murray the whole game and he probably saw all that.” Pat glanced back at you before looking behind you and quickly, guiltily, pulling his hands from your ass.

‘Perfect timing,’ you thought, as you could guess exactly who it was. Brian was kind enough not to mention anything as he approached his son. The father gave you a pat on the back before embracing his son. The moment was tender as you looked on at the scene of the father/son bonding, albeit a bit awkwardly. Brian held Pat by the shoulders for a moment and they both had shining streaks down their cheeks. You didn’t hear anything that had been said but you smiled softly, overcome with love for the both of them. The graying man approached you next, rubbing your shoulder and giving you a quick hug. “You kids have fun,” he said as he walked back to Joe, “and be safe!” He winked.

“God, your dad-”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Love him, though,” you joined the number 15 player as you followed the others to the snack shack, walking arm in arm, holding as much contact as you could while still being able to walk.

Maz ended up beside you when you all sat at the picnic tables with rainbow sprinkles on vanilla ice cream in a casual post celebration gathering. This gave you the opportunity to congratulate him and at the same time express your sympathies after the draft. “I mean, it’s alright,” he’d said to you, “‘cus this is really what it’s all about right here, you know? I mean these guys-” He laughed gently as David and Palacco ‘lovingly’ assaulted Ty with several scoops of ice cream to the face, “Dad was right. They’re what it’s about. Winning is awesome, don’t get me wrong, but I wouldn’t be here without them and- and it’s all just-” Without getting emotional, he could barely say anymore. “It’s not about me. It’s about family.” John sat back against the table and chuckled.

You patted his knee as you stood. “They wouldn’t be here without you either, Maz. Regardless of where you go from here, everything you’ve done has mattered to someone, to all of them, at least.” Your boyfriend approached you and you said one last thing to the star batter before moving out, “I mean, if you could hear the way Pat talked about you, you’d think you were his girlfriend.” He laughed at this and you grinned knowing he would appreciate it. “Be proud, no doubts, you’re loved, and all that shit.”

“Thanks, [YN],” John nodded happily at you and looked down for a moment at his melting cone dripping on the grass below him. Pat stood next to you now and whispered some suggestive suggestions in your ear. Shooting the younger Mazzello a sorry look he sent you off and waved you and your lover goodbye with a sly grin. “Go on, go have fun. I’ve had enough of the longing looks, get it out of your system.”

Pat laughed lightly and slipped an arm around your waist, furrowing a confused set of eyes at his friend’s comment, then at you. It made him wonder what type of conversation the two of you’d had. He led you towards the parking lot, flipping off the team he left behind as they wolf whistled, making a lot of correct assumptions of what the two of you intended to do in your early departure. You’d left your van parked around the side of the field in the nice shade of a small grove of trees. The keys clicked in the quieter, cooler, fresher air around you. Patrick leaned against the side of the vehicle, one arm up to support himself and the other placed on his hip, ankles crossed. He watched you a bit too intently as you unlocked the cabin of your old car.

“I can feel you looking at me,” you smiled, opening the passenger’s side door to manually reach around and slide open the spacious back of the bus, turning on the car battery in the process. Leaving the keys in the ignition, turning down The Damned, but leaving it loud enough to cover what sounds may come. He watched you do this every time. It came as no wonder to him why your cherished car was in such bad shape as you left the battery running to supply a soundtrack to your lovemaking. Eyes distractedly stalled on your midsection as he looked you up and down, Pat faltered as the car shuddered when the door opened and he was thrown off his balance. He caught himself, though, and shot you a slanted grin.

“You’re just-” He bit his lip, “-so fucking hot, and you’re all mine.” Settling into the cushy, creaking back part of the carriage, you grinned expectantly.

“Am I?” You cocked your head, “Maybe you should remind me again who exactly I belong to.” Dragging every word out, you purposefully teased the impatient man, unbuttoning the top of your shorts slowly.  

Like a switch, something clicked in him. His entire demeanor shifted from his almost toddler-like temper to something much more mature. Sitting spread eagle on the plush blankets you kept in the back for such occasions, you waited. He stared at you darkly, a towering shadow that filled the van’s open portal to the rest of the world. He filled in the empty space, deciding what he wanted to do first, how he would defile you in so many ways and what he would start with.

The interior smelled liked fast food, rubbing alcohol, and sweaty sex. Seeing as the main things you did in this car were eat bad food, try to clean up the stains left behind from said bad food, and, of course, fuck, the medley of scents came as no surprise. Around you were an array of cushions, blankets, and pillows all extremely soft to the touch. Not an inch of the original upholstery could be seen under the collection of plush covers. This made for the ideal landing as Pat pounced on you like a starved jungle cat as you look so very appetizing against the grey of the fur throw you laid on.

With him on top of you, you grabbed his cap and threw it to the side, kicking the door closed with your foot. Already against your lips, Pat straddled you, one hand on your waist and the other your cheek. The tops of your thighs pressed against the backs of his laying sideways in the cramped space. Holding his face to yours, his stiff, sweat dried hair curling between your fingers, you moaned. He smelled hotly of dust and fire, like a childhood summer day. The intimacy of the flood of memories he reminded you of only increased the sensation for you, heightening your attraction to him in a familiar, safe emotion.

His lips moved against yours, both of you sharing the same rhythm like singing along to an old song you never really could forget the words to. Open mouths clashed, teeth hit teeth, tongues knotted with tongues. His eyelashes brushed against your cheek as his wet kisses traveled down your face hitting your chin, your neck, your collarbone. Simultaneously, his hand pushed up your top, the other lifting you to help you pull it off. You let your arms drift above your head as he peeled the first layer off your body. It was only fair you would start unbuttoning his jersey and pulling at it, signaling him to take it off.

Before you could rip his undershirt off, he attached his lips to your neck, sucking hard to leave behind a noticeable deep purple love mark high enough it couldn’t be covered. You could feel his teeth graze your skin in a proud smile as your hot and heavy breaths turned to desperate, squirming moans. You gasped, gripping the fabric over his chest. He was glowing knowing only he could leave you in such a state.

Dragging a hot trail of saliva down your body, Pat stopped at your chest. He pulled away and stared down at your breasts with a shake of his head. “So fucking gorgeous,” he whispered. With one knee on either side of you, he sat up and pulled his red top off. Then he swept back down, suctioned back to your skin. He started behind your ear and peppered bites around your jaw, hands pulling your body to arch, allowing him the opportunity to remove your bra. You threw your head back and shimmied off the upper undergarment.

Your hands skimmed Pat’s bare chest, traveling upwards to his shoulders and past. Palms pressed against the sides of his face, you wiped your thumbs at the smeared eye black on his cheeks. His gaze was tied to your exposed chest and his breathing was heavy and hungry. Lips hanging parted, he slowly looked up at you through hooded lashes.

You smiled at the man hovering above you. Neither of you moved as you established eye contact while Jimi Hendrix played in the background. The van was hot between your bodies and the setting sun shining through the front window. Sweat beaded your forehead and your boyfriend went to push your hair back from your face, damp from the growing heat. “You’re-”

“You’re beautiful,” you finished. He laughed and it was like a Baroque painting before you. In a golden haze, his hair looked soft and he was glowing in muted tones. The tapestry pinned to the ceiling gave a dusty rose background to compliment the halo you saw around him. You pushed his hair back and pulled yourself up to kiss him. He took this chance to explore your body, mapping every inch of your warm, welcoming skin.

His fingertips were calloused and grey, dirt caked in the ridges of his prints, proof of the aftermath of the game. Rough pads walked down the center of your torso, stopping at your breasts. He took one mound in his hand, pinching your nipple between his thumb and his palm, rolling it slowly. You bit your lip and tucked your fingers under the waistband of his baseball pants and briefs, pulling them back and snapping them against his hips. Your eyes hung on the happy trail leading up his stomach. You traced it with the tip of your nail and his dark gaze settled on your face.

From his perspective, you were hidden in the shadows below him, hot and vulnerable. Buds of your breasts perky and hard, the dips of your stomach like a flowing river to your hips where your shorts sat a little too low, you were buried under filters of lust. The retiring sunlight hit the dust particles between you, floating through the air in slow motion like a love scene in an early 2000s, warm-toned, rom-com, the kind you spent Friday nights watching under three different blankets on the couch. You were dreamy, always, but especially now, a hazy, golden goddess.

“I want you, Pat,” you interrupted his daze, stroking his face and pushing his loose hair behind his ear. “Now.”

He blinked at you and grinned. “Oh, let’s go.” You smiled wickedly as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, you wrapped your arms around his back and slipped your hands on his ass. He engulfed you then gripped your shorts and panties, ripping them down all at once. A guttural groan left your throat and you wiggled out of your clothes. Pat had moved to one side of you, maintaining skin on skin contact whenever he could, and kicking off his shoes. Your body arched towards him as he retracted his touch. You shook your pants off your leg and laid baring it all for your lover in the cramped space of the vintage vehicle.

Pat was awestruck as you sat up, spread out for him, back to the driver’s seat. He paused with his pants stopped just high enough not to be truly explicit. You looked on with anticipation, one finger slinking its way between your legs. “Keep going,” you nodded at him. He complied with a lopsided grin and hot, hooded eyes. You rubbed two fingers against your clit and bit your bottom lip as he yanked his pants down, cup painfully sliding over his hard erection. He sat back and pulled off his bottoms, socks included, cock slapping against his stomach as he did so.

You snorted at him, unceremoniously slouched in the back of your small van. The sight was both pleasing and amusing, and far from being unfamiliar. Every time you’ve watched him undress in these four fabric covered walls, it felt the same. It had become something of a post-game ritual, defiling the backspace of your car while the oldies stationed tuned out the lewd sounds you made together.

‘She said, hey babe, take a walk on the wild side’, your lover crawled towards you as you spread your lower lips to welcome him, ‘I said, hey honey, take a walk on the wild side.’ Patrick took in the sight of your glistening sex and licked his lips. He sat back on a plush green throw blanket and pulled you onto his lap with a soft chuckle. He hummed contently at your lips against his ear, tightening his arms around your damp skin. You were straddling him, one arm slung over his shoulder and the other reaching for his member. The pre-cum leaking from his tip spread against your stomach as you pressed onto him, limber fingers wrapped precariously around his length. You pumped him slowly, hanging off his lobe by your teeth. This pulled a whimper from deep inside him, nuzzling against you. Thumb sliding over his head, you dragged the slickness down his shaft and sucked on his neck as he had yours. You were dripping for him and he could feel it. His knuckles went white, gripping your thighs with bruising strength. He nipped at your shoulder, leaving behind wet, fading love bites.

You were jostled as your boyfriend lifted you by your waist so he could easily access your tits, supporting you against the back of the driver’s seat. Pace quickening as your hand slid up and down his cock, his mouth latched onto your nipple, teeth brushing against it as he sucked hard. His thick fingers inside you scissored with fervor and you could feel every bend of his knuckles between your walls. Your free hand held his face against your chest and you moaned. Slowly, the cabin filled with the sweet scents of both yours and his arousal and sweat. You pulled yourself towards him and pulled gently on his hair as he replaced his lips with rolling fingers and paid his attention to your other bud.

“Fuck, Pat,” your breath hitched and you could feel him smile against your breast, “Pat, I want you-”

“I fucking need you, [Y/N],” his breathing was heavy as he detached from your chest, moving to look you in the eyes, “Soon.” It was a pleading look he gave you, far different from his on-field persona. With one last soft squeeze of his erection, you let go. He moaned at the release and you were up on your knees. He looked up at you from between your breasts as you flattened against him.

One of his hands slid between your thighs and your composure faltered, his cold fingers pressing past your nerve center and straight to your hole. He watched your face carefully, one hand on the small of your back, the other letting digit after digit push into your sex easily, slick secretion assisting in his effort to stretch you before his anticipated penetration. Blinking quickly, you twitch your hips at the knuckles deep in your pussy. Patrick grabbed your ass and began going in and out and in and out of your entrance with a quiet slap. To the rhythm of the Bowie song blowing out your damaged speakers, you hump his fingers and ride your rising pleasure ut before you can peak, you’re filled with emptiness.

“You fucking ready for me, babe?” Want was dripping from every syllable of his words as you looked down just in time to see him pull his slick fingers from his mouth, appreciating your taste every chance he could.

“Let’s drag this out, baby, today we got something to celebrate.” You caressed the side of his face and smiled softly. He couldn’t resist your whims and he knew exactly how to make this special.

He laid on his back and pulled you up by your ass, sliding your wetness along his torso. He lifted your waist and you compliantly moved your knees to either side of his head. “Then let me finish you off before we start on the good stuff, hm?” His smile was sexy as he adored you from between your legs, willing to put your sexuality before his need. His arms wrapped around your pillowy thighs, on hand holding your slit open and the other stroking your clit. A shiver ran through you as he lifted his head to break your first contact.

This was his chosen place of worship, kissing your core surrounded by the satin skin of your voluptuous legs. His religion was you on your knees and him on his back, the ecstatic expression you wore his deity. The fluid stained woven rugs and fur throws that shaped the interior of your chosen mode of transportation was the altar he so admired in the temple of you. Your skin was scripture and your acts together sacred, the hard rock you left on the hymns of your love. His metaphor was worn but as the last of the daylight threaded through the fallen waves of your hair, he couldn’t think of any words more true to describe this image of you.

He dove into you, starved of your taste. You were pulled down to his face, feeling his tongue probe the space between your lower lips, sucking at the labia and fully drinking up your nectar. You ground against his tongue, utilizing what he could to maximize your pleasure, the texture of his muscle overwhelming your senses. His nose pressed against your clit as his hands moved to go from grabbing your ass, supporting your waist, then giving his hands’ attention to your breasts. Your nipples were well loved as your pussy continued to be stimulated to the point of pushing you over.

Your whole body curved forwards, gripping his hair and supporting yourself with a fistful of the blanket. Uneven breaths drifted from your open mouth, heaving chest painted with small drops of sweat. Pat’s palm was flat against your back. Your hair flipped out of your line of sight as you threw your head back, lips forming a solid ‘o’. A wave of ecstasy rushed over you in your first orgasm of the evening, a musical moan, broken by sharp breaths. The lover beneath you lapped up every release of your spasming pussy until your curses died down to soft shudders. To avoid overstimulating you, Pat moved from your sensitive mound to drop hot kisses on your inner thighs.

The pulsing of your core subdued as you spent the next minute catching your breath. The van was filled with salty, hot air and Patrick held your midsection tightly as he sucked dark hickies on every inch of your shy skin he could reach. His face was coated in your juices, which was smeared across your legs, both sets of hands, and down your boyfriend’s chest. Letting his tongue glide over a fresh bruise just left in the crux of your crotch, his melted autumn eyes stared up at you with intense lust. He threw his head back when he was satisfied with his work and snorted, “You taste like a Goddamn fucking angel.”

His smile was goofy and gross, the juvenile delinquency of your act written all over his face. It made you feel like a teenager again, sneaking around with the angry boy your parents didn’t like. God, you loved him. You couldn’t help but laugh a bit at the situation. There you were, sitting on your boyfriend's face in the back of your musty van by the neighborhood baseball field and you weren’t even done yet.

You grinned down at him, “Shut up and fuck me, Murray.” The man smiled and sat up, catching you as you fell off him. You grabbed his face and pressed his lips to yours for a moment, tasting your own sticky, semi-sweet love on his lips before he pulled away to reach around you. Popping open the center console compartment with a click, he grabbed a condom and ripped it open with his teeth. “Care to-”

You took the contraceptive from him without letting him finish. He could understand the eagerness in your eyes and moved back expectantly. Holding up the plastic package, you frowned. “I thought we were celebrating?” You tilted your head innocently. Recognition flashed across his face and he raised his eyebrows. For the first time, the mood was broken, a Honda commercial really solidifying it for you.

“Are you- Are you serious? Are you sure?” The sweaty athlete’s eyes were wide at your implication.

You smiled slyly and nodded at him. “I’m on birth control and,” you shrugged, “I trust you not to have any weird, contagious rashes.” He laughed at you, happily, and you joined him.

“I can promise you I have no transmittable diseases, inspect me if you want.” His arms moved out to present himself to you.

You dragged a nail across the length of one of his arms and he cocked a half smile in your direction as he eyes your movements. “I’ve seen plenty.” You grinned and put your hands back on his cheeks, pushing against him in a kiss. Pat was quick to move, but you stopped him, hand flat against his chest. “You need a little prep, first, don’t you?” Slowly, he figured it out and sat back to give you more space to do your deed. Folding over yourself, thighs spread and arousal tickled by the thick woven rug beneath you, your face reached the waiting cock.

All the man could focus on was your long, batting lashes and your ass sticking out behind you. His tip was cold and wet from being untouched, but your spit dripped down it as you kissed the slit briefly. Patrick’s breath was shaky as you licked from the base up to the tip, making eye contact as you did so. His body weight was put on his locked arms behind him, leaning away from you, but he feared one more sex filled look from you would break him and he would collapse.

He nearly did when you first took him into your hot mouth. A groan vibrated through him and you felt it in your connection. Slowly at first, sparingly, you bobbed up and down on his length, soft lips sliding over every ridge and every vein. “Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck-” You picked up speed with his encouraging curses. Head thrown back, your lover focused on not cumming right then and there, doing his best to save himself for what came next, but Goddamn it, [Y/N], he thought. He’d let you know him far too well if you could break him into so many pieces so quickly. Tongue scraping at the side of the sensitive skin, balls being treated with care in your hands, and the pace leaving him a sputtering mess- You name filled the compartment like a rolling sea fog, all your senses overcome with his apparent need for you. His scent, his sounds, his taste- hot and salty. Seeing his chest rising with labored breaths, you decided he was getting too close and hilted him in your throat as best you could for a moment, teeth grazing his base and your nose buried in his happy trail, before pulling off at a painstaking pace, detaching from him with a ‘pop’, a string of saliva falling from between you.

It took a quiet moment for him to get his bearings at the disappointing cutoff. The drops of sweat sliding down the sides of his face were tinted with red from the adobe colored dirt he’d spent so much time on. Sitting back up and leaning towards him, you went to wipe the moisture away and he held your hand to his face, kissing your palm with closed eyes. He saved his high and gave you a quick, and ironically chaste, kiss before pushing aside discarded clothing articles and repositioning the two of you so he was above you once again. He took you by your middle and moved you to the side, growing increasingly impatient, seemingly recovered from his edge. Holding firmly to your ribs as he laid you down before him, he then pulled away to admire you again.

Under a young night sky, you were the only star he saw. Glowing in a post-orgasmic haze against the shadows cast by street lamps, you were a constellation of an impossible creature. Contrasting the true space you both existed in, his view of you was divine. Every beautiful thing in the heavens and the earth, he saw in you.

“Pat?” You furrowed your eyes in concern at his momentary stillness.

He blinked the clouds from his eyes. “God, sorry, fuck-” Shaking his head, he smiled slightly, “I got so fucking lucky. I may not be able to get a hit but, uh-” He chuckled before completing his favorite line, “You sure are a catch.” He winked and you gently kicked him in the shoulder. Catching your ankle, he held your leg up and held it over his shoulder as he moved to position himself at your open hips. “C’mon, it’s my best line.”

You impatiently rolled your eyes. “Are you gonna fuck me or not?” You motioned to your waiting sex, ready and slick for him. “I’m waiting-”

“-And I’m ready!” Patrick held up his free hand defensively before grabbing your hip with bruising strength. His dripping, neglected tip sat waiting at your entrance. His tone turned serious, “Are you?”

His genuine asking was comforting and you nodded quickly. His position over you turned you on even more, if possible, loving that he could see you melt in his hand and drip between his fingers. With one hand holding your leg up and the other stroking his excited cock, preparing to enter you. The sparkling space between your welcoming thighs glistened in the little bit of moonlight making its way into the vehicle. He slid his thumb through the wetness and you groaned in need. He chuckled at your response and you squirmed against the soft fabrics you’d been set on.

It was the moment of final satisfaction that you’d been building to all afternoon in the back of your sex-soaked bus. Your eyes were trained on his focused downward gaze and you could feel him press into you. It was a pleasant stretch you looked forward to but it was different this time, void of the protection you’d so cautiously used. You felt unequivocally full, natural, and satisfying like you were made to fit together like this. Scary, but exciting, this new sensation left you unable to control your breathing. Sharp inhalations were a sign to him he was doing something good. Pushing into you was easy with how much arousal dripped your sex, all the fluids of the night mixing together for a pleasurable experience. In and out, he took his time deepening the contact, holding tight to your hips, a nice pain shooting through you when he squeezed the old yellowed bruises he’d left behind from past rendezvous. Your eyes focused on him when they were closed in ecstasy, hands swiping furiously at your clit or alternating between your breast. Pat was in awe at the bolts of hot pleasure that traveled up his body at the raw feeling of you around him, tight, wet, and warm. He thought sex couldn’t get any better, especially not with you, but he was wrong. He felt every dip and fold of your tunnels against the ridges of his own skin.

You were sleeved around him as he picked up speed. Grunts fell from his pouting lips every time his hips slapped against yours. The sound could be heard over the still playing radio in the front seat. It seemed the amount of teasing the two of you subjected each other to left little resilience to the sudden relief of penetration as your boyfriend’s rate jumped from calculated, appreciative thrusts to messy, needy, heavy ones in a matter of minutes. “You feel-” He groaned as he hilted in you again, balls deep to the pleasure of both of you, “So fucking amazing-” The words barely came out. You tried to formulate a response but the heat filling your abdomen stopped you. What came out instead was a gurgled moan of agreement. Smiling at the sights and the sounds you produced, Pat was absolutely enamored by you in this new sensation. Tits bouncing as you shook with his slamming thrusts, your eyes rolling back with guttural groans from deep inside you.

Drawing from that pit of white-hot pleasure, you neared your peak and a higher pitched plead cam as a warning to your partner, “Can’t- Fuck, Pat- Almost there-” He got the message and the two of you shook together, his whispers of ‘me too, me too’ barely heard through the whimpers. No longer could sounds be differentiated from one source or the other as your bodies melted together in a moment of bliss. For the first time, the vehicle noticeably shook in your passionate lovemaking. His hands slipped down your legs, attention drifted from your clit to your navel to your hair as he doubled over to float parallel above you. Sweat from his tiring body rained on you and you pulled him closer. His face was buried between your ear and shoulder, biting away curses as he humped through his high.

“Fuck, that’s it-” The sliding stopped as his back arched first, pressing so hard into your crux, you were sure your entire lower half would be purple by the next morning. His member pulsed inside you and you could feel it swell with anticipation before your own pussy milked him for all he was worth. Streams and streams of hot, white pleasure flowed into you and you swallowed a scream. The sound that managed to escape was otherworldly and Pat loved it. You’d never felt this before, his love directly inside you, hot sloshing, liquid driving you past your point of return. You thought maybe it hadn’t been the physical sensation but the idea of how intimate the action was that had really given you your final orgasm. Either way, you had simultaneously arched against him and he held you up by your back as you squeezed with every muscle. Nails dragging down his spine, no doubt leaving red territorial marks down his sides as you rode out the ocean of intensity that washed over you. It made you curl your toes and tense your appendages around your lover like a boa constrictor and their prey.

Love came gushing from your connection and pooled beneath the small of your back, sinking into the layers of covers that cushioned the two of you from the hard vehicle floor. You didn’t think about the mess you’d made or the unfortunate task of cleaning it up and instead focused on the weight on top of you. Still, inside you, Patrick’s cock twitched as he’d nearly collapsed over you. The rhythm of your breathing synced with his and your pussy pulsed sorely, your entire body sensitive and raw. A shiver ran through your bones as you felt the hot mouth of the body blanketing your’s suction onto your neck one last time, licking over its handy work with a weak laugh. Your fingers laced through his damp hair and you turned your cheek to kiss his.

Your eyes were watering, maybe from the tense situation or the exhaustion that suddenly overwhelmed you now that the wire strings of arousal no longer hold you up. Pat felt the same way as he slowly pulled out of you and you winced. On his side next to you, you felt him pull you closer, nestling into your equally wet and disgusting hair. The entire car smelled awful and hot, the windows were grey and fogged up, blankets beneath you covered in God knows what. Closing your legs and turning towards the warmth beside you, you nestled into him, the feeling of your post-coital calmness was immortalized in the music you’d left on. ‘Goodbye stranger, it’s been nice. Hope you find your paradise.’

Maybe the lyrics weren’t a perfect fit, but somehow the melody found it’s way beneath your hot skin and soothed you. You remained this way for, you weren’t sure how long. Time seemed lost to the two of you then. Engulfed in his arms, you felt safe. The scene was grimy and explicit, your nakedness blending together, the leftover ejaculate dripping from your slit without care, the stained and discarded undergarments left unnoticed and hanging off the steering wheel. It wasn’t clean or safe, but for the two of you, it was nice. What that said about your situation, you didn’t care. This was your heaven.

“Good morning, Orange County! And what a lovely morning it is! We’d like to start the day with a little Springsteen, huh?” A hard drum intro led into a twangy guitar and the sonorous voice of Bruce Springsteen, ‘In the day we sweat it out on the streets of a runaway American dream. At night we ride through the mansions of glory in suicide machines.’

“Is it weird,” you’d said, “knowing all the boys are well aware of what we do? Including your dad?” You laughed a bit, leaning against him, still bare, under a furry quilt. The carriage of the vehicle creaked at your movements, audible now that it wasn’t masked by the heavy breathing of your fucking. The bohemian tapestry behind you shrouded the rising sun from your sensitive eyes, half open in a dream-like state.

Patrick planted a quick kiss in your hair, “I like they know you’re mine.” He took a deep breath, “And my dad can fuck off.”

After a pause, you looked at him and erupted in laughter. “He’s pretty cool, you know, for having to deal with a kid like you.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

‘Wendy let me in I wanna be your friend, I want to guard your dreams and visions. Just wrap your legs 'round these velvet rims and strap your hands 'cross my engines.’

Brian glanced at the phone as he prepared his breakfast. He was sure his son was fine, he’d gone nights without calling before, but by morning he usually had a message waiting for him. He tried not to think about what may have distracted him in order to keep down his first meal of the day. The radio played in the background.

‘Girls comb their hair in rearview mirrors and the boys try to look so hard. The amusement park rises bold and stark, kids are huddled on the beach in a mist. I wanna die with you Wendy on the street tonight in an everlasting kiss.’

The groundskeeper stared on worriedly at the shaking VW bus that had been parked behind the trees since before he’d gotten there in the small hours of the morning. “Fucking teenagers, disgusting,” he shook his head and turned away, earphones back in as he started up the lawnmower.

‘Oh honey, tramps like us, baby, we were born to run.’

[amazingviralinfo]

Beyoncs imperious sixth album sees her turn her attention to her marriage, with witheringly powerful results

Dishearteningly billed as a conceptual project based on every womans journey of self knowledge and healing a description that makes it sound like something agonisingly earnest youd go out of your way to avoid at the Edinburgh Fringe Beyoncs sixth solo album touches on a lot of potent topics. Quite aside from the presence of her much-discussed single Formation, a meditation on race that originally appeared in the middle of Black History Month, there are lyrical references to slavery, rioting and Malcolm X and a ferocious guest appearance by Kendrick Lamar that jabs at Fox News and police brutality and ends with something approaching a call to arms.

In an era when pop doesnt tend to say a great deal, theres obviously something hugely cheering about an artist of Beyonces stature doing this: she increasingly seems to view her success and celebrity as a means to an end rather than something to be maintained at all costs. Nevertheless, Lemonade is an album less about politics than something more personal. Its more preoccupied with the state of her marriage than it the state of the world, overshadowed by her husband Jay Zs alleged infidelity. If you want to compare her to an old soul legend, its more Here, My Dear than Whats Going On: for all its brilliance, Formation feels oddly tacked-on at albums end, arriving after All Night, a track that sounds remarkably like a grand finale.

Given the amount of lurid media speculation about the Knowles-Carter union, you could have reasonably expected Beyonce to step discreetly around the subject of what you might call Hovas legova, for fear of giving the gossip mags further fuel: perhaps a knowing allusion here and there, the odd bitter reference to the press intruding on her personal life. But no: in the film that accompanies the album, premiered last night on HBO, she does everything to express her displeasure at her husbands behaviour short of appearing holding aloft a pair of scissors in one hand and Jay Zs severed testicles in the other.

Shes seen tearfully committing suicide, smashing things up with a baseball bat, destroying cars by driving over them in a monster truck and throwing her wedding ring at the camera, as well as reciting the alarmingly visceral poetry of Warsan Shire best known as the author of that oft-quoted line about how no one leaves home unless home is the mouth of a shark much of which sounds less like the words you usually hear issuing from an R&B divas mouth than something the late Richey Edwards would have come up with around the time the Manic Street Preachers made The Holy Bible: till the blood spills in and out of uterus, wakes up smelling of zinc, grief sedated by orgasm.

The album itself is no less bracing in its approach than the film. Suck on my balls, Ive had enough, she sings on Sorry, shortly before threatening to leave and take their daughter with her. Big homie better grow up, she adds, a direct allusion to the title that Jay Z gave himself during his guest appearance on her 2003 single Crazy in Love. The music, too, slowly works itself up into a righteous frenzy of anger, shifting from the becalmed misery of opener Pray You Catch Me via via the sparse simmer of Hold Up which rather wittily borrows its chorus from the Yeah Yeah Yeahs paean to undying devotion, Maps, and its hook from Andy Williams Cant Get Used To Losing You before finally boiling over on the fantastic Dont Hurt Yourself: a ferocious, distorted vocal as commanding as anything shes recorded, wrapped around samples from Led Zeppelins When the Levee Breaks and a guest appearance from Jack White. Indeed, without wishing to encourage someone towards the divorce courts, shes so good at the hell-hath-no-fury stuff that its almost disappointing when the mood eventually lightens and she declares everything well in her marriage once more.

Not everything here works as well as that, or the weird, affecting mixture of defiance and vulnerability found on 6 Inch, a track on which she slurs and snarls about how rich, hard-working and desirable she is over ominous electronics, before her voice appears to crack as sings come back, come back, come back. Daddy Lessons curious blend of New Orleans jazz and country sounds uncomfortably like pastiche, while theres something of a lull at the centre of the album, ironically the moment where the mood changes from bitterness and fury to something more forgiving and redemptive. The piano ballad Sandcastles isnt a bad song as such, and it boasts a startlingly raw vocal that occasionally threatens to turn into a distraught howl, but it sounds a bit commonplace compared to whats going on around it, not least the flatly astonishing Freedom, a dense swirl of sound containing everything from old Alan Lomax field recordings to 60s psychedelia from Mexico.

On Freedom, and indeed for much of Lemonade, Beyonce sounds genuinely imperious. Shes obviously not the only major pop star willing to experiment and push at the boundaries of her sound: thats clearly what Rihanna and Kanye West were attempting to do on Anti and The Life of Pablo respectively. The difference is that those albums were at best a bold and intriguing mess: the sense that the artists behind them were having trouble marshalling their ideas was hard to escape. Lemonade, however, feels like a success, made by someone very much in control. This is your final warning, she scowls on Dont Hurt Yourself, if you try this shit again, you lose your wife. You rather get the feeling Jay Z should heed those words: on Lemonade, Beyonce sounds very much like a woman not to be messed with.

[bythepowerof4]

clea and nick and a very confusing two day argument @nickatnightwalker

[during daisy’s 420 dash shenanigans]

bythepowerof4nnnno dont encourage her this is bad

nickatnightwalkerim encouraging her to be distracted byh being queen of something clea

bythepowerof4noooooo i dont think its gonna work like that shell just try harder

or maybe not i dontt fucking know i dont know anything

nickatnightwalkersame my guy but it was a chance i was willing to take on behalf of all of us

bythepowerof4ok sure great fingers crossed whatEVER

we are all sooo super grateful

nickatnightwalkeroh this is worse

bythepowerof4that wasnnt even a goov fucking burn

bythepowerof4that was so LAME and she thinks she s so SMART and i hate her

and i dont wanna talk about it actually how are you

nickatnightwalkeri am

dying

bythepowerof4Great

nickatnightwalkeri would have gray hair by now if it were possible for me to have melanin

bythepowerof4youre not helping though!!!!! uoure engaging!!!!!

noo ok not my business

this is meant to be chill i want to be chill

nickatnightwalkerjus wait till the bowl goes around again

nickatnightwalkeri was trying to distract her you kmnow thats the only way to stop the daisymobile

bythepowerof4thats not fair you know thats not fair

nickatnightwalkerwhat waiting for the bowl or the daisymobile

bythepowerof4Both duh

nickatnightwalkeryes i know, and, also unfair that this is happening on 420 day or our lord and savior snoop

bythepowerof4its not fair that we have to deal with this whether it happens or not wee could just like walk away from the weird passive aggressive blogging ccrcle right now if we so chose

yeah????

because this isnt FUN nickolas it is not

nickatnightwalkeri personally am having a loads of fun messing with ines

you have to dea l with everything when it happens so this is just a thign

bythepowerof4oh cool great youre just as bad fantastic news

nickatnightwalkerok i did no t and have not publicly read anybody out yet to date

i only do that privatley and only when it suits me

bythepowerof4:/

://////

bythepowerof4look at u ur being a dick right niw!!!!

nickatnightwalkeroh what to ines

im screwing with her

shes trying to fight me

bythepowerof4because this is soo the best way to deal with that sort of situation

nickatnightwalkerits just funny idk why shes getting all snaked out of shape

bythepowerof4"hot" you dick????

Youre both being gross now stop it!!!

nickatnightwalkera joke

a JOKE

shes a lesiabn

also just like

no

bythepowerof4its not FUNNY nick

neither of you are funny its weird and annoying and embarrassing

nickatnightwalkershe wants ot punch me bc i sias d bite me

i dondt really feel like imobligagated to take her seriously anymore

besides shes a shit so no t only is it funny to watch her blow a gasket over the same google image snatched pic i also like pissing her off

bythepowerof4u arent obligated to fight w her either but ur doing that,, a lot

idk

Im not making sense

nickatnightwalkerthis is brely a fight

[nothing until nick sends the photo]

bythepowerof4im not mad at you and im not mad at her so can you not tag team revenge for once in your fucking life

we're having an almost genuine conversation for once without you interjecting to make fun of me and pretend play matchmaker for shits and giggles so can you please, please cut it out

nickatnightwalkerim not making fun of you

nickatnightwalkerif i was making fun of you itd be a lot meaner

you should be flattered i even considereed encourragign you to go for daisy

[next day]

bythepowerof4hey!! how are you feeling haha, is ur hair still going grey

bythepowerof4im not trying to act like nothing is bad btw i just wanted to start it off nice sorry :/

nickatnightwalkermy hair's moved past being gray and now it's black, so im inadvertently copying misha again

bythepowerof4lmao this is some goth power play shit love it

nickatnightwalkerwhite haired twink is out 2008 gerard way is in

bythepowerof4as it should be!! do you need eyeliner like i don't have any but it would really make the Look

nickatnightwalkerwhy would i need that when i have dry erase markers to just apply liberally to my face

bythepowerof4so resourceful?? pinterest diy that shit

bythepowerof4we can raid the art rooms, get some glue while we're at it and cut a big chunk out of your hair gel budget

nickatnightwalkerdanger with that is potentially overgluing and making it fragile and breakable like glass

bythepowerof4glass bones and paper skin and glass hair also. got it

i mean youre pretty protective of it already i doubt anyone would notice the difference!!

nickatnightwalkerevery morning i break my legs getting out of bed

bythepowerof4do your heart attacks put you to sleep bc i know that feeling

nickatnightwalkeryeah thats why i sleep like four separate times a day

bythepowerof4and i thought that was just a #relateableteen thing

bythepowerof4so not to be weird but is this like. Chilly lackluster banter or are you actually not mad at me

nickatnightwalkerno im pissed

bythepowerof4ok

can i ask why

nickatnightwalkeri mean well first ya came at me for fucking with you which

like i said

i do but it's obvious

then you were a shit to daisy

so

thats that

bythepowerof4iiii mean. you said you wouldnt do that anymore. and then you did. i was just upset

and im sorry about daisy, i told her that too

bythepowerof4like really sorry!!

i just think its weird that someone can say, threaten to kill her and call her a bitch all the time

and youll date him

but i cant get a little upset when we're all high and im having a super stressful few days!!

nickatnightwalkerdo what anymore

bythepowerof4fuck with me

about her

nickatnightwalkerim not

i havent been

bythepowerof4you did though

bythepowerof4like what else was that picture

nickatnightwalkeryou said she was weird and creepy and i sent a picture of her being cute and sweet

bythepowerof4i said she was ACTING weird and creepy which objectively is an accurate description for someone talking about throbbing tentacle dicks and using the word "quivering" in relation to the nether regions of the girl they beat up for fun

but like, what do i know

i dont think shes weird and creepy and thats not what that photo was about im not an idiot

nickatnightwalkerlisten i frankly think everyone needs to reserve their judgment on the moire and daisy situation because it's clearly very complex and beyond the comprehension of mortal men and none of our fucking business to judge one way or another and, yknow, imho, moire has gills and misha smells like magic and youre 4d so maybe also reserve your fucking judgment on who's weird around here anyway

bythepowerof4i know thats why i apologized

nickatnightwalkershe can say shit like that and still be cute and sweet

bythepowerof4but like i said, high and upset and still getting used to this, so u can forgive me for one slip up surely

nickatnightwalkershe contains motherfucking multitudes

bythepowerof4thats not what you were saying though!! you didnt say that

you sent me a picture trying to make me jealous or something, just like she was saying, because obviously i cant have a private conversation with either one of you

nickatnightwalkerif youre jealous thats your problem

bythepowerof4im NOT

you both keep acting like i am thats not fair!!!

nickatnightwalkeri wasnt youre the one who's fixated on it

dont believe i ever said the j word

bythepowerof4i didnt either!! she did!!!

im not fixated on anything i just want to be able to talk to you without you making it about her all the time

nickatnightwalkerweve occasionally talked about more than daisy im p sure

bythepowerof4:/ you know what i meant

nickatnightwalkerwell this IS about her whether you think im continually screwing with you in some single minded attempt to torment you or not

and im not a fan of someone who says theyre her friend telling her shit like that

bythepowerof4i said SORRY it happens ok!!! i feel really awful about it why do you think i was so upset yesterday?

nickatnightwalkeri dont know dude i was baked

bythepowerof4i didnt know that specific thing upset her so much bc no one gave me a rule book for this shit and im never gonna do it again

nickatnightwalkerok cool

im also deciding rightnow this second i dont care if you believe why i sent the picture or not because youre so dead set on me trying to fuck with you ill never change your mind

and for the record

damians never called her a bitch again

nickatnightwalkerand if he tried to kill her, id be more concerned about scraping enough of him up off the sidewalk to fill a bucket

bythepowerof4youre not even gonna try to understand why i might think that

like i could tell you if u gave enough of a shit to listen yeah

nickatnightwalkeris poor self esteem and daisys difficulty with dropping her persona not the right answer

bythepowerof4not quite but thhanks

for that

nickatnightwalkerthats usually what it is

bythepowerof4ok just. Listen for a sec without jumping in to insult me yeah

bythepowerof4the two of you like, obviously tell each other everything. like u straight up reference shit shes obviously told u n vice versa

and that makes it weird cause it feels like im never talking to just you and thats why its weird when u bring her up bc its like, why wouldnt u just tell her whatever i say!!!

bythepowerof4and u keep saying i have a shot w her and telling me how to impress her when i just wanted to brag about winning chicken it didnt have to be a THING u know???

bythepowerof4but like!!! if ur saying that then she knows and it makes it weird!!! like you do that even when you said youd stop and then she accuses me of being jealous of moire and then you immediately send that picture and u can see how i might think it was a fucking team effort

yeah?????

bythepowerof4its weird and intimidating and im not even friends with her i was obviously fooling myself about that but i thought i was friends with you

like not youtwo as a unit or whatever fake setting me up

ok im done but that was stupid so whatever

nickatnightwalkerwell like 1. i dont tell her everything

i know hard concept but just because we talk about a lot of shit which is, yknow, what one does with friends, it doesnt mean we talk about everything

nickatnightwalkerfor instance: didnt know she said you were jealous of moire

bythepowerof4ok

bythepowerof4i believe you im obviously not that big a deal for u guys to bother talking abt me fine

but u can at least see how i might think that given ur whole thing is acting like ur joined at the hip and ganging up on ppl

u know

nickatnightwalkerwait do you want us to talk about you or not clea

nickatnightwalkershe was upset so she told me, i was pissed so i gave you photographic evidence

of the contrary imean

if i know everything about her then when i say youve got a shot i really think im in the best position to be calling that

bythepowerof4thats the problem!! Bc i clearly dont have a shot we dont even talk that much bc i dont even know how to talk to her and that makes it seem like ur pulling it out of ur ass!

nickatnightwalkereither i know everything about her or i dont make up your mind truong

bythepowerof4youre missing the point ok

nickatnightwalkerif the point isnt me giving you the run around to fuck with you not sure what the point is then

bythepowerof4oh my god

nickatnightwalkeris that not literally what you just said

bythepowerof4that is youre just getting bogged down in dumb shit im saying!!

nickatnightwalkeror dyou have your planes in a knot over us telling each other things like, information, like, sharing information about our lives

bythepowerof4stop that i dont give a shit about how the two of you act i just want you to get that its scary!! and it makes it hard for me and you expect me to be so good at this that the second i fuck up youre coming at methis hard

nickatnightwalkerof course i am shes my best friend and youre her friend so it's way worse than some rando ragging on her

bythepowerof4youre MY friend youre like my best friend here because im a fucking mess and youre getting personal about this and its upsetting me it doesnt have to be this intense???

nickatnightwalkerhurting daisy is always gonna be personal clea

nickatnightwalkerand i get you apologized and thats cool and that could be that but to the best of my fucking understanding im not giving you false hope and tbqh honestly, to be honest, actually, youre a decent fucking person and i have a strong preference that daisy go on coffee dates with someone whos not gonna knock her teeth out of her fucking head

bythepowerof4youre that invested and youve never said a single thing to her about it??

do you see how i might come to doubt that

nickatnightwalkeryeah and what the fuck would i say sorry but your weird hate crush kinda gives me the heebs have you ever considered not acting on that and trying to be relatively normal and healthy instead

bythepowerof4so what i have to do everything

nickatnightwalkeridk if youve noticed this but she doesnt really know what shes doing a lot of the time when shes talking to people so you know how i was talking about effort:: reward? thats where that comes in

bythepowerof4thats not fair

you could have just told her that thing you just said instead of pinning the work on other people without even telling them

nickatnightwalkergenerally speaking i try not to reveal daisys weaknesses to new acquaintances

bythepowerof4thats still not fair

do u even like me or are you seriously just trying to set her up with the least murderous person here

nickatnightwalkerif i didnt like you i wouldnt care if you were the least murderous person here

besides i dont get how you think us talking to each other is weird but you expect me to run interference in every single one of her friendships like, hey, just a heads up, shes got trouble finding the off button on the snarky attitude

like hell wingmanning you is pretty much the limit of what i can justify

bythepowerof4i dont expect you to do anything ive told you plenty of times that that shouldnt be your job

youre the one whos apparently been trying to invent a friendship where there isnt one?? forgive me for feeling kind of skeeved

nickatnightwalkeri was under the impression that you WERE friends

not sure when you stopped being friends actually

i KNOW shes doing her best to be less

bad

around you

bythepowerof4:/

nickatnightwalkerwhat

bythepowerof4i didnt wanna say "relationship" tbh bc there definitely isnt one of those

nickatnightwalkeroh haha relatable but look

i saw something good happening there with regards to daisy makin a human connection and i was trying my motherfucking utmost to encourage it

bythepowerof4ok but. its not a genuine human connection if youre there right

thats not very organic its just uncomfortable and confusing

i appreciate your help i guess but it was clearly more for her benefit than mine and that doesnt feel great?

nickatnightwalkerim not like lurking behind coffee machines im not actually THERE

and of course it's more for her benefit i didnt even know you

bythepowerof4i mean the second it went south you were, there, actually,

oh wow

thanks

nickatnightwalkerman youre not gonna pick me over like, your brother or something i dont see how this is shocking

besides

daisys

a good person to be friends with

bythepowerof4i mean sure but im still a bit caught up in you picking me out of a lineup like oh theyll do!!

nickatnightwalkerwhat line up

she likes you

bythepowerof4ok this part for once is not about her

well a little bit but listen

i thought we were friends because you thought i was nice and wanted to be

aka nothing to do with daisy

nickatnightwalkerwell like

yeah

that kinda helped your case though i guess

bythepowerof4no im sorry but that makes it weird

bythepowerof4that you befriended me for her sake and the second i pissed her off you trashed me for it like all im good for is bringing out the good in her

thats stupid??

nickatnightwalkeroh my god you have terrible reading comprehension

step 1.  we got to be friends

bythepowerof4ok we're back at insilts great!!!

nickatnightwalkershhh just shhh for like a second im breaking itdown alright

step 1. we got to be friends

step 2. you and daisy are also sort of friendsish

step 3. i encourage this shit because shes trying and youre pretty alright

step 4.  youre yelling at me for leading you on and befriending you to like lure you to daisy or some shit because i apparently just psychically knew you were ok

dont remember if we started talking because you were already talking to daisy so i figure that says something

bythepowerof4thats not what you just said but fine

bythepowerof4if im so wrong about all of this then im sorry for misunderstanding

nickatnightwalkerno it is what i just said

being friends with me first helped your case re me backing you up since i knew you werent a dick

bythepowerof4fine!!! ok i get it i just apologized

i cant help not getting stuff sometimes i figure u would get that being friends with daisy and all

but youre just saying all thise mean shit to upset me and not even feeling bad about it apparently

nickatnightwalkerlisten i really hand to god dont know what things youre talking about right now

doing it for daisy over you?  like

i knew you enough to know youre alright but daisy is daisy

bythepowerof4ok well yesterday, for one, with the "you should be flattered" bullshit

bythepowerof4and u were fucked so i would forgive that in a second if u bothered apologizing

or maybe the picture, which like, whatever your intentions were clearly was pretty hurtful

or anything about low self esteem, treating me like a melodramatic idiot,

any of that rally

nickatnightwalkerim gonna address these in order

bythepowerof4unless ur adress contains a sorry i dont care

ive heard ur excuses and thats great but thats not how this works

nickatnightwalkerlike

nickatnightwalkerugh jesus cut me some slack im not exactly a social guru here either im sorry about the low self esteem comment that was genuinely not meant to be douchy and neither was the picture even though i sent it because i was pissed

that was more of a look youre wrong kinda thing but i get how with daisy saying you were jealous that looks way harsher than i thought it was so im sorry about that

bythepowerof4even in context of like, just our previous convos i think that seems pretty harsh but yeah

thanks

i appreciate it for real

nickatnightwalkerand like i cant in good faith apologize for the you should be flattered shit because regardless of the situation daisy is daisy and in the interest of transparency im never gonna think anyones good enough for her but like i said she was willing to make an effort for you and i knew you were ok so

bythepowerof4oh my god

nickatnightwalkerwhat i honestly dont get why youre so shocked i prioritize daisy

bythepowerof4im not but you dont,, need to, for one

u know you didnt eed to compare us at all

and no offence but if youre trying to convince me you like me as a person and not just bc im convenient

saying "youre ok" as often as possible is NOT reassuring

nickatnightwalkeroh what

well first obviously i had to since you were getting kinda messed up over me doing thing for her not you and second of all i dont mean Ah Yes, You'll Do..... i mean youre ok

like

bythepowerof4that hadnt happened yet u just brought it up out of nowhere

nickatnightwalkernot bad

bythepowerof4it was douchey

nickatnightwalkerno you

you said it

like

ill scroll back if i have to but you said me doing it all for her felt bad

bythepowerof4yeah and it does fyi but u pulled that "you dont deserve her" crap last fucking night

if youre gonna continue a fight u started high at least read the backlogs dude

its clearly on ur mind if u brought it ip for no reason

nickatnightwalkerit wasnt for no reason it was because she was upset you called her weird and crazy

i didnt pull this shit from the void

bythepowerof4" you were getting kinda messed up over me doing thing for her not you" this hadnt happened yet thats all im saying

u cant even keep your excuses straight

i didnt compare us and you decided to and that understandably made me feel like shit

nickatnightwalkerwell goddamn you pulled the receipts it's certainly not like i couldnt have misunderstood what particular thing you were referring to

bythepowerof4i only did that bc u tried to make it about something else!! i get why u were mad at me but youre trying to make me look dumb its not fair!!

nickatnightwalkerim not trying to make you look like anything believe it or not

sometimes i too am capable of misunderstandings

bythepowerof4then why dont you ever say sorry for them

ive messed up like a dozen times in this convo alone and i said "sorry i misunderstood" ur just

id unno its going in circles and its dumb bc i just want you to not be mad at me

nickatnightwalkerbecause im too busy trying to tell you im not framing you to look like a tool

bythepowerof4and i said i believed you

but youre acting like im an idiot for thinking it at all

nickatnightwalkerdude im not

like i dont know what im doing thats making you think that but im sorry?

bythepowerof4i told you!! over and over!! and you kept making it into something else!!

literally read what u just said and tell me it wouldnt make u feel like an idiot

nickatnightwalkerwhatever sorry i compared you and said you should be flattered

bythepowerof4whatever

sorry agan for being a dick to you last night, bc i admit i was, and to daisy but ill take that one to her bc its like, Our Business

whatevers dont count and im tired so, till next time i guess

nickatnightwalker i said it after you upset her but before you apologized and pretty much would feel that way if donald glover himself came to her door