#update we are now sitting here going back and forth trying to figure out how they even got it wrong to begin with 😭 im gonna be real with+

[vaguenotions]

I really hate feeling irrational and upset over food. One of the worst things to be upset about. It feels SO fucking stupid.

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XX)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... A LOT of readers google what an "ostomy bag" is! Danny reestablishes his comfort with the Arabic numeral system!

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

The next time Diana comes to visit her charge, her gloves are blue. Her scrubs are a pale pink. She is given a new face mask, and a new hair net, and walks through the double doors without needing to be buzzed in.

Alright. Perhaps the boy is not genuinely “her charge”. Still, he is hers to protect and to keep; although her position is, officially, as security to the medical team working with their young patient, the medical team knows as well as she does that the boy does not genuinely intend harm.

Is he prone to outbursts? Perhaps, but very few of them are powered. It is entirely understandable too, according to the mental health professionals on board the Watchtower: trauma affects how well one comports oneself and how one interprets their environment. They may see things, hear things, or misunderstand things, and believe they are under threat. The circumstance makes for a great deal of residual fear and mistrust.

Diana was once raised amongst communities of women with few untouched by battle fatigue. She recognizes the signs of lost time and of reawoken fear. She understands what battle-weary warriors are truly fighting against.

A doctor and a nurse mumble a greeting as Diana passes by them. “Morning, Wonder Woman.”

“Good evening,” Diana returns, eyes crinkling. One nurse visibly glances out the window—and then smiles, sheepishly, having forgotten their location in space. Time zones on the Watchtower are often…flexible; Diana, however, has only just returned from her day job. “How is the patient?”

A doctor jerks their head towards the monitor. It is only ever left on if no one else is in the room; privacy is key to recovery. The active monitor means that the medical team has left him alone for now. “Take a look. You might have to go kid wrangling again, Ma’am.”

Alright. Diana obliges them.

On the monitor, in little stick-figure form, are three figures, all sitting or crowded around the room’s singular bed. Her patient sits in his little white gown, legs still as ever, as Impulse drapes himself across the bedspread, and Robin (ex-Robin? Third Robin? Doesn’t he have a new name now?) stands at the bedside.

The Speedster wiggles, mouthing out words she can’t hear without a microphone. Robin is focused on something in his hand—a tablet, perhaps? If Impulse is chattering into the air, then Robin is short on answers; her charge, in comparison, looks back and forth between them, likely unable to understand what the two are up to.

Diana’s mask catches her sigh. “Busy, are they?”

“Do you think you can hold the red one down long enough for a refresher on proper PPE usage?” the doctor begs. The question appears to be genuine. “They just zoomed in a little bit ago. We’ve been trying not to disturb them, but without masks and gloves…”

…Her charge was still at risk for possible contamination or infection, as they couldn’t get consistently accurate test results on his immune system. Diana hummed. She could see the problem.

“I shall. Buzz me in, if you will.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

The door clicks open. Diana strides through, unafraid of teenagers or similar ilk, and content with her position as designated scolder.

And, to his credit, the Robin at her charge’s bedside recognizes Diana’s lack of enthusiasm with the situation, and winces with artful precision. Silly boy— as if Diana would believe that any Bat would be ashamed of breaking a rule if they had already chosen to break it. She cannot help but be fond of each Bird’s eccentricities in their own ways. Robin hides the contraband food in his hand behind his back.

Impulse, however, hardly notices her approach, draped over her charge’s casts as he is—a whiteboard in his hand, furiously scribbling away at whatever attempt at communication he has decided to test today. Having met several male teenagers in her recent years, there is a decent chance he has been drawing genitalia as well.

Diana politely coughs into her mask. The gesture is entirely performative. Robin responds by hiding a separate can of energy drink—opened—on the side table behind him, in the hopes of hiding it from view.

Impulse, who failed to notice her arrival, continues to scribble. Occasionally there will be a burst of superspeed, but it will be in contained little bursts. He likely either wants to preserve the marker, or he is taking more care with his attempted art than usual.

Her charge looks up.

His eyes are still a concern—glazed with a green film, they jitter back and forth ever so slightly when he tries to focus on any one object in particular. He hasn’t indicated any discomfort with his eyesight, however, so it hasn’t been addressed beyond documentation.

The crack in his face—from two inches above his white, nebulous hairline and trailing down to his chin—is visible evidence of an injury or gouge of some sort, with new pink skin all around the edges as the only visible sign of inhuman levels of healing. Diana has seen a number of scars, and a number of healed, gaping wounds, but it is occasionally unsettling to set eyes on her charge and see the still-healing brain matter, skull, and inner sinus cavity through a viscous, green, not-quite-organic wound filling material.

There seems to be a consistent rate of healing, though. Diana can only hope that recovery is possible.

“Good afternoon,” Diana greets softly. Her charge’s discolored fingers flex as his face turns to look at her. “Are you well?”

His green-tinged lips part and then come together again. He’s not not paying attention—he listens very well, and has begun to use certain words in English to compensate for his need for communication. That being said, Diana has little idea what he is and is not capable of understanding.

Impulse, however, finally recognizes the newest occupant in the room. “Wonder Woman! Uh—we totally had permission to be here this time! Promise!!” he offers, immediately switching from someone gleeful to see her from someone remembering their misdeeds.

Diana is very lucky that her mask covers her fond smile. If it is her job to be stern today, she ought to live up to the task. “Did you, now?”

Impulse beams sheepishly, and rolls off of the casts of a bemused half-alien boy. “Yes! Remember last time when the nurses all said I could ‘come whenever’ and ‘bring a friend’ and—“

“You were asked to buzz in ahead of time and put on your protective gear?” Diana finishes, wry. Before she is able to scruff him appropriately, however, the superpowered boy is already gone and back—now with an askew hairnet, an upside-down surgical mask, and gloves a size too large for his hands.

“So I did that!” Impulse protests, the mask moving unnaturally over his face. “Look! All dressed up!”

It is a well-intended last minute effort. Alas, it would all be for naught. Diana scoops up a squawking speedster by the nape, and a now-blinded-by-a-misplaced-surgical-mask Robin, and trots them both back to larger medical.

“One moment!” Diana tosses back to her charge, who is, understandably, concerned.

Still. It takes Wonder Woman, two nurses, and a paraprofessional to successfully sanitize and gear up an uncooperative speedster. Robin sulks through the entire process, but capitulates to it with more grace.

Her charge’s green eyes shine and his fingers curl around his few personal possessions as Diana returns to him his companions; she wishes, so dearly, that she could ruffle his pale hair. “All done!”

The teenaged heroes sprawl across his bed just as casually as they had before—if better prepared for their environment. Robin largely gives her charge his space, careful not to impede where he isn’t wanted, but Impulse freely shares affection that her charge, at least, does not visibly deny.

Diana has her own routine to complete. She heads for the intravenous injection bags, pulls out a fresh one, and cracks the seal. After that, it’s shaking to mix the concoction and a fresh replacement.

Impulse grabs one of the toys off of her charge’s side table and brings it into his lap. The board is tilted, and all the slotted-in pieces fall out. He spends some time sorting them by shape, and then by color, until her charge lifts trembling fingers to pick them up, very carefully, one by one.

She’s impressed. His pincer grasp recovery has not been consistently smooth sailing. “Excellent work,” she praises.

Robin looks up from his tablet. Impulse looks back at her and beams. Her charge gives her a brief look, observes that she doesn’t need anything from him at the moment, and gets back to sorting the little pieces back into their allotted slot.

Impulse rests his chin on the steel arm bar of her charge’s cot. The pose seems…uncomfortable. “Hey, Tim. He got them all right.”

Timothy Robin taps away at his tablet—no doubt taking down documentation of his own. Diana can’t help but feel affection; every Bat and every Bird is so nosy, but if she wants to actually see those notes on her charge, she will have to press Batman for them with a reasonably-sized threat.

“Really?” Robin asks, eyes on the screen. “Do you think the pieces were matched based on color, or actual understanding of the numerical system?”

Diana looks down, line in her hand as she reconnects the intravenous bag. The toy in her charge’s lap is a mock clock face. Each of the numbers is printed onto the removable piece, in different cut-out shapes, and painted different colors.

The atmosphere changes. The air itself tastes different—something like electricity sparks on her tongue. And then it’s gone.

“No, he’s looking to put the clock face back in order, specifically,” Impulse confirms. Ah. Speedforce. Diana should have been able to recognize the feeling by now. “He’s kind of annoyed, actually. It’s like a baby toy.”

“Well, it is a baby toy.” Robin taps away.

“Yeah, that’s why it’s annoying. He knows he should be able to do it.”

Impulse buzzes again, and her charge hums, stuffing his flat hand between the board and the sheet until he can tip it over without grabbing at it. He repeats the same process, the only difficulty stemming from his shaking grip and his shaking eyes.

The urge to pull him close and pet his hair is understandable, Diana reminds herself, but not conducive to his long-term comfort. She smiles at him, as best as she can behind a surgical mask, and discreetly checks his drainage bags to see if they need replacing while she’s already close.

“All’s well,” she declares at last, finished with anything that isn’t social. Thankfully, having two teenagers in the room takes care of her charge’s most frequent issue—boredom. She claps her hands together, and her charge looks up at her, eyes vibrating. “Do you require anything?”

Her charge looks at her. Her charge looks at his friend. “Ouatair?” he tries to enunciate, tongue thick against the green-filled split in his hard palate. “Pleese?”

“Ithinkhewantssomewater,” Impulse rushes to translate, but Diana already knows this request. The water provided is chilled in a refrigerator, and it takes no time for her to find sanitized cup and straw—steel, so as to be safe when dropped, and relatively uncrushable, with a handle for simple gripping.

She presents it to him grip-first. His expression is grateful, and frustrated. No warrior wishes to be in the position of needing constant. Diana can understand the wish to do things on his own.

“Soon,” Diana offers, voice a whisper. “You’re already better off than before.”

Her charge grumbles into his cup. His tongue, half-green, finds the straw for him; he chomps down on the straw, slurps as loudly as he can, and sulks.

Teenagers. Diana finds herself unable to understand how Bruce has so many of them, and understands perfectly well how easy it is to take on a child in need and make them your own.

The cup goes back onto the side-table, half-empty.

“Hey,” Robin starts again. He puts his tablet to the side. The white board is pulled out of Impulse's hands and goes onto her charge's lap, and with only a little whining. “How’s this?”

Her charge mumbles something neutral. His eyebrows scrunch together, but he takes the offered blue marker from Impulse and lets the boy uncap it for him.

“Yeah, it’s more adult or whatever,” Impulse encourages. Her charge sticks out a green-mottled tongue, but takes the marker to the white board and writes. Robin peers over his shoulder to watch. “It’s just the alphabet. A, B, C, D~!”

Her charge hums the tune back to him, continuing seamlessly where Impulse left off. The teen hero beams.

Diana stills.

“Yeah, you got it!” Impulse encourages, and peeks over the edge of the board to see her charge hard at work. His letters are wobbly, certainly, and there are some that he misses, but the alphabet song is a longstanding English-language tradition. He know it. He knows it by rote.

“You missed the ampersand,” Impulse points out. Her charge scowls through the fissure in his face.

…There is no reason for Diana to get excited. Yet. Robin-the-former is already jotting down his own notes, pleased with his observations. There are many reasons and many ways this teenager might have picked up the song. J’onn famously picked up on Earth’s radiowaves before being transported to Earth; this could be further evidence that her charge has some connection to Earth, or it could be a connection to something more bizarre and unusual.

There is no shortage of unusual events these days.

And, of course, Diana runs out of things to do. She smooths down her charge’s blanket, which he hardly notices in his frustration. She refills his water. She is tempted to go grab her copy of The Art of War from her bag in the other room, which she has read before, but which she is rereading at behest of Bruce’s newest initiative: Tactical Book Club. She is optimistic about the opportunities for further education this will provide her comrades-in-arms, if not underwhelmed by the reading material. As long as the teenage heroes are in the room, Diana is obligated to remain with them, in the event that the danger level might…fluctuate. A book would give at least the semblance of privacy to the three.

Her charge makes a noise. “Hay!”

Diana looks up. In shaky hands, resting on his lap, he holds up a largely complete alphabet. There are one or two shaky letters—thorn, which is fairly common, and eth, perhaps less so—but otherwise carefully drawn, very neatly done.

“Excellently done,” Diana praises. The alphabet is a triumph of the physical work it takes to heal.

Her charge beams through his craggy face, buzzing with delight.

"I dunno," Impulse teases, upside down on her charge's legs. "They're kinda wonky."

The boy's face scrunches, smears the color away with a swipe of his arm, and draws something else.

The board shakes with his exertion as he lifts it back into place on his lap, and Diana allows herself to sigh, audibly; sure enough, as she had expected, there is a misshapen, blue, cartoon representation of a penis.

Robin full-on cackles with surprise, but Impulse falls of the bed with laughter.

Unfortunately, it is now Diana's job to figure out how to scold a teenager, and one who speaks no known language besides. Based on the resulting expressions she earns, Diana is unsure if the scolding works, but. Well.

...She tried.

[augustvandyne]

Lucy chen x reader.

Lucy and reader are on an undercover case, and something goes horribly wrong, which leaves reader in terrible condition. Reader ends up in a coma, and Lucy barely leaves her side. (Reader is Angela's sister. Lucy and reader are already in a relationship.)

i don’t really like this one but.. here it is

i love you

Everything flashed before your eyes. One second you were trying to have a conversation with a suspect in a bar, and the next there was a gun pointed at you.

Lucy was in the bathroom for only a second, and when she came out you were being held at gunpoint along with mostly everyone else in the bar.

Lucy tried her best to deescalate the situation, but she’d only seemed to make it worse.

So here she was, sitting beside your bed, blaming herself for everything that happened as she held onto your hand. She tried her best not to break into tears everytime she looked at you or everytime one of your guys’ coworkers came in to see how everything was going.

Angela had come in and out as well, and she had to force Lucy to leave your side so she could go eat a few times.

She wasn’t happy about it, but she did it.

Lucy lays her head down on her hands, which are wrapped around your cold and frail one. Her leg shakes beneath her in anticipation of a new update on how you are.

“Luce..” Angela’s brows are furrowed in worry as she waits for Lucy to lift her head.

Lucy shakes her head, her messy bun moving along with her movements. She eventually lifts her head, her eyes still as puffy as they were when everything happened almost forty-eight hours ago.

“I don’t know how this happened..” Lucy’s lips quiver, her voice breaking.

“You need to go home. Eat, shower, sleep,” Your sister’s eyes are filled with sadness. For you, and for Lucy. She hates to see someone so important to you sad, let alone see her blaming herself for everything.

“I can’t,” Lucy shakes her head sadly. “I can’t leave her. I promised..”

Angela clenches her jaw, trying to not cry herself.

“I promised I would never let something like this happen to her,” Lucy lifts a hand to her face so she could wipe her overflowing eyes.

“She would understand,” Angela promises. “She knows we can’t promise such a thing in our line of work.”

“This is all my fault,” Lucy cries into her hand.

Angela stands and moves to be by Lucy’s side, because if there was one thing the two of them needed, it was each other in a moment like this one.

“Lucy..” Angela places a calming hand on her shoulder and Lucy launches herself into Angela’s arms.

The two of them stand there, rocking back and forth, and for the first time since everything has happened, Angela lets out a few tears.

“I’m terrified,” Lucy shutters. “What if she doesn’t wake up?”

“I know. I know,” Angela places a hand on the back of Lucy’s head. “I’m scared too.”

Lucy steps back after giving her a hug, and she wipes her tears away. She bites her lip nervously, moving her arms to wrap around herself, scared to look at you again - terrified she’ll start crying again and she won’t be able to stop.

“What are you thinking?” Angela crosses her arms over her chest.

“I love her,” Lucy shakes her head. “I’m in love with her.”

“I know,” Angela’s frown deepens on her face, her nostrils flare in hopes that she won’t start crying again.

“I haven’t even told her I love her yet..”

“You haven’t?” Angela all but yells. “I’m sorry, it’s just.. Y/n talks about how much she loves you all the time I just kind of figured the two of you have said the L word.”

“No,” Lucy shook her head again, tears forming in her eyes. “I almost said it the other night when we were undercover. And I should have.”

Lucy sits back in the seat, her hands finding their way back to wrap around yours. She lifts your hand to her lips so she can give your hand a soft kiss - something she had come to do since you started dating.

“I love you. So, so much,” Lucy sighs to herself. “I need to shower now, though. I’ll be back, I swear.”

“Thank you,” Angela nods, giving Lucy another small hug. “I’ll call you if there’s any changes.”

Lucy’s heart dropped when she got out of the shower. She’d missed numerous calls from Angela, and she didn’t even attempt to brush or dry her hair on the way out the door.

She probably violated too many traffic laws on her way back to the hospital, but she didn’t care. If something happened to you, and she wasn’t there, she would never forgive herself. Nurses yelled at her as she ran down the hallway in the hospital, but she didn’t care. All she cared about was you and what had happened.

“Angela what—“ Lucy’s eyes make their way to you. Her heart is almost beating out of her chest when she sees that you’re awake. “Oh my God.”

You hold your hand out for her to take when she sits by your side.

“What happened?” Lucy is looking at Angela. “Am I going crazy? Is this a dream? I was gone for an hour.”

“What?” You laugh hoarsely. “I’m awake. I thought you’d be happy about that.”

“I am!” Lucy nods excitedly. “I am very excited. I’m just confused. You were in a coma when I left, and now you’re awake. More than awake. You’re energetic.”

You smile, “I woke up a few minutes after you left.”

“We tried calling you,” Angela says.

“I know,” Lucy squeezes your hand. “I saw you called and I rushed here. I didn’t have time to call back. I assumed the worst.”

“Ang.. would you?” You jerk your head towards the door, asking for a little privacy between you and your girlfriend.

“Yeah, I’ll go down to the cafeteria. Have Lucy call me when you’re done,” Angela leans down and gives your head a kiss, and for once, you lean into it.

You give Angela a tight lipped smile as she leaves and gives the two of you some space.

“Is everything okay?” Lucy’s small smile turns into a frown.

“More than okay,” You nod. “Lucy.. I don’t want you to blame yourself for what happened.”

Lucy’s body relaxes slightly, and she slouches a little in her chair. “I know.. it’s just.. it feels like it should be my fault. I promise to protect you everyday and I failed. You didn’t even want to go on that operation, but I pressured you into it. I’m so sorry, and I love you and I don’t want you to ever be in this situation again. This was the worst forty-eight hours of my life. I don’t even think I’ve slept for a solid eight hours in a few days.”

“Lucy, baby, it’s okay,” You lift her hand to your lips like she had earlier. “I don’t blame you. And.. I love you too.”

Lucy’s eyes widen at your words, as she didn’t even realize she let herself slip.

“You need sleep,” You tilt your head sadly. “You look exhausted, my love. And you didn’t pressure me, I promise. If I really didn’t want to go, I would have said no.”

Lucy nods, “Okay. I believe you.”

“Now, get up here so you can get some rest too,” You demand, patting a spot on the side of your bed.

Lucy hesitates to slide in, but you pull her into the bed.

“I love you,” Lucy says.

“I love you too.”

Let’s just say the two of you forget to message Angela to come back. And when she does, she takes a photo to send to the LAPD groupchat.

[bonesandthebees]

Hi Bee,

Random writer here looking for some advice. I was very much a Wilbur-centric author and concerning the works that I’ve finished, I’ve decided to leave up because I’m proud of them.

That being said, I currently have an ongoing fic that I’m torn about what do to with. I’ve been sitting on it and trying to figure out what I’m comfortable with but I’m just going in circles at this point.

I hate the idea of leaving a work unfinished and I was really passionate about the concept for this one in particular. But it’s currently only about 20% finished so I’d be in it for the long haul.

I think that emotionally, I could compartmentalize things if I actually decided to keep writing it, but I also don’t feel the same enthusiasm towards it that I once did.

I definitely won’t delete it though, only orphan it in the most extreme case. Any suggestions on how to decide?

honestly I've been dealing with the exact same struggle you have, anon. I'm very proud of all my finished wilbur-centric fics and I'm going to leave them up, but I also have an ongoing fic that I've been torn over what I'm going to do with. under the hanging rose is also only in the early stages (30ish% I'd say) so I'd be in it for the long haul. I've been going back and forth about what to do because I first started conceptualizing rose as a fic in december of 2022 when I was finishing writing the stars and their children. I've been wanting to write this fic for over a year now, and I've finally been able to start it. I've done so much worldbuilding and plotting and everything for it that I really want to follow through with all of that, but it's hard, you know? it feels weird.

I can't tell you what to do here. it's up to your own personal comfort if you think you'll be able to complete the fic. if you don't want to you are under no obligation to do so. writing fic should first and foremost be enjoyable for you. there's no moral qualm here because c!wilbur is a character separate from the guy. we've all agreed at this point the dsmp characters are pretty much our own to do with as we want. so it's just entirely up to you and what you want to do.

for myself, I think I've come to a decision. I'm not letting a terrible person take a story I love so deeply away from me. I want to keep writing rose. it's definitely not going to be updating anytime soon because I still have a lot of conflicting feelings about things, and maybe when I sit down to actually write it it will be too uncomfortable for me and I'll change my mind. but for now, I want to keep going with it. this story is mine, and this version of the character is mine.

it's okay if you don't choose the same way I have. do what's best for you. writing can be such a joyous thing. don't let anyone take that away from you, and don't force yourself to write something you don't want to.

[not-a-space-alien]

Desperate Daybreak Chapter 6

In this chapter: Valen gives it a try...

MMSS masterpost

DD masterpost

On AO3

Warnings for this chapter: Self harm, pregnancy dysphoria, depictions of someone undergoing dissociation and extreme mental trauma, sexual assault TW. This chapter has heavy themes and depictions of self harm. Also some brief touching on disordered eating.

Update: Here is a summary of the chapter for those worried about whether or not they can read it due to the self harm depictions.

***

Lex and Ari managed to cook quite a good dinner.  They then sat eating it at the table, remarking over and over to each other how good it was.

Valen desperately wished he could taste it.  To experience this with them.  He couldn’t even get his own equivalent and partake alongside him–his equivalent of a delicious meal would be horrifying to them, something he wouldn’t want them to see.

The braindead humans loitering around would occasionally shuffle over and sit at the table, as though they knew mealtime meant sitting at the table together despite none of them being hungry or eating.  They didn’t respond to Lex’s offer to let them taste the food.  They didn’t appear to be particularly enjoying anything that was happening.  They just knew dinner meant sitting at the table together.

Valen wondered if they developed their own limited social dynamics, locked in here with barely a thought between the lot.

“I’ll figure out the best way to help you,” he told them.  “Just be patient a little while longer, okay?”  He was beginning to realize what a monumental task that was.  These humans wouldn’t remember their own names.  Their families.  Where they came from.  How to even survive and function on their own.  No one had ever documented a human reverting to having higher brain functions after being mindwiped from years of exposure to persuasion.  It might not even be possible.  They were essentially walking corpses.  They barely cared if you hurt them.

He could grapple with the moral implications of that later.  For now, he locked the door to the human quarters and left things as they were.

When they got back to the guest suite, Tessie was laid out on one of the queen-sized beds in cozy pajamas, going at her nails with cotton balls.  “How was dinner?” she said.

“It was great!” Lex said.  “Are you doing your nails?”  She sat on the edge of the bed, and Tessie immediately perked up.

“Do you want to do each other’s nails?  I’ve never gotten to do–er, the girls growing up all had sleepovers and stuff, but I never got to do that.”

“We can do that!” Lex enthused.  “Girls’ night!”

Valen smiled as he watched Lex sit on the bed and start rifling through Tessie’s nail polish.  At least there could still be some small joys here, among the horrors.  “I think I’m going to take that bath, now.”

“Hey,” Ari said, standing in his way.  “You haven’t eaten since we set out.”

Valen averted his eyes.  “My stomach was in knots.”

“You need to feed.”

How could I possibly feed after the scene in the human quarters?  “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Valennnn,” Lex said in a singsong voice.  She tilted her head and tapped her neck.  “Come on, it won’t kill anyone.  You can’t do anything on an empty stomach.”

Valen stood there waffling back and forth before he came over and bit down very gently.  He took a few sips before giving up and licking the wound closed.  “Thank you.”

Lex hadn’t even stopped looking through the nail polish.  He appreciated her nonchalance.  It was the only thing keeping him from spiraling.  “Now go get your bath.”

The tub was wonderfully deep.  He submerged himself up to his neck in warm, fragrant water, fiddling with the foam from the bubble bath.  He soaked for a while with his thoughts.  Everything seemed more manageable with Lex and Ari here to help him, and Tessie was quickly becoming a treasured support as well.

The bath relaxed him considerably, and when he came out he saw that Tessie and Lex had convinced Ari to sit down and allow herself to be subjected to her nails being painted.

They spent the morning listening to the radio and giving each other manicures, in better spirits by far than earlier.  Nobody was even that upset when Ari inevitably messed up her nail polish before it was dry.

***

Valen always tried to sleep by himself, but on his bad nights he often found himself slithering in beside Lex and Ari.  He woke them up, but they always graciously pretended not to notice.

Lex and Ari had taken the king-sized bed, and Valen and Tessie the two queens adjacent to the biggest room in the suite.  He put on his comfiest pair of pajamas and bade goodnight to Lex and Ari, who still refused to stop their amazed commentary on how fancy everything was, from the soaps to the beds to the carpets and vanities.

And then he just lay there, wishing he could fall asleep instead of needing a safety blanket like a child.

He felt Priscus’s arms around him.  His hands around his neck.  His hands around lower, more sensitive places.  Not even the bastard dying could free Valen from that wretched fate.

He tossed and turned.  He felt Nick’s hands on him, his burning metal, his cruel words, the humiliating and painful things Valen had been subjected to.  He only realized he’d managed to fall asleep when he jolted awake from having a dream about Nick wearing Priscus’s face.

He tiptoed through the suite to reach where Lex and Ari lay tangled in each other’s limbs.  Trying to be as light-footed as possible, he climbed into the bed and inserted himself between the two women.

***

Valen snuck out of bed early to crawl back into his own bed, to avoid the complicated feelings he had being in bed beside Lex and Ari as they all woke up.  The two humans politely declined to acknowledge the fact that he'd been there at all, instead pretending they were seeing him for the first time as he walked out in his pajamas.

“Sleep well?” Lex asked.

Valen nodded.  “I'm still torn about the humans here at the manor.”  He couldn't on good conscience condone the staff biting the humans, but… what would forbidding it actually accomplish?  The humans would still be just as stuck here, unable to help themselves.  Just as braindead.  They hardly seemed to care one way or the other.  The manor staff, on the other hand, enjoyed fresh on demand blood as one of their job perks, so suddenly cutting that off would result in some ill will.  Maybe he could offset that with a pay raise?

But then what?  He just had a bunk full of walking, unfeeling husks?  To what end?  Trying to connect them with any sort of help or reunion with their families was going to be a monumental task.  It'd simply never been done before, or at least done with such low frequency there was no infrastructure or guidance available to expedite the process.

In the end, he decided to avoid making a decision for now and just not make any announcements.  He managed to avoid feeling guilty about it by reasoning it wasn't his fault it was set up like this, and there wasn't any point in changing it yet when it wouldn't make any difference.  These humans were a drop in the bucket compared to the work they had ahead of them, so might as well wait till they figure out what to do about the other…. thousands of people.

And besides, he had a much more challenging task ahead of him today.

Valen swallowed as Tessie slid the papers over to him.  “Here's the information for the fertility clinic. There will probably need to be repeat appointments, but the first one is going to be the hardest. We can go any time this week.”

“Let's do it today,” Valen said, even as it made dread swell inside him.  “I can't bear the thought of stewing in anticipation all week.  It's better to just get it over with quickly.”  He was really doing this.  He'd gone out of his way to avoid becoming pregnant when Priscus was alive, and now that the man was dead, Valen was going to purposefully try to have his child, because for some godforsaken reason the universe had set itself up such that Valen getting pregnant would give him the ability to save thousands of people.

Fitting, symbolically a little.  Maybe he was giving birth to a messiah?  It could be, if he raised them to value human life, and then took over when they turned 18.  That seemed the best option.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad with Lex and Ari here.  Maybe they could help him raise it.  He would even say he might like the idea of raising a child with them, if he didn't have to be the one to carry it.

It wouldn't be Priscus’s child, not really.  The man was fucking dead.  Valen was here, and he could do this.

He hoped.

***

Valen wanted to go by himself for some godforsaken reason.  They managed to talk him into letting Lex and Ari take him there, at the very least, and then they waited in the van outside the clinic anxiously.

“Fucking stupid,” Ari muttered.  

Lex opened the passenger door to stretch her legs.  “Yeah.”

“He’s in there alone being violated by his stupid fucking- fucking stupid ass husband postmortem.”

“Babe.”

“And he didn’t even want us to come in.”

“He has his reasons.”

“Well, they’re stupid.”

“Come on, babe.”

Ari gripped the steering wheel and shook herself.  “I wish he was still alive so I could kill him again.  Priscus.  Priscunt.”

“Babe.”

“Pisscus.”

“He doesn’t want us to see him like this, I guess.  He’s been humiliated enough-”

“And we’ve seen it all!  We just want to be there for him!”

“He knows.”

“And he didn’t-”

“He’ll be out soon.  Surely.”

“He better.  Close the damn door, some vampire bystander is going to come take a bite of you.”

“You think I look that delicious?”

“Not now, you horny slut.  I’m not having car sex outside a vampire family planning clinic, of all things.”

“Oh-!  Oh, there he is!”

The two craned their necks to see him coming out the front door.

“Uh-oh,” Ari said.

“Shit,” Lex added.

Valen stumbled out, eyes glazed over, shaking.

“Shit,” Ari said.  She put the car in gear and pulled around to get close to him.  “Shit, shit, shit, shit.”

Lex hopped out and opened the door.  “Come on, get in.”

Valen looked at her foggily.

“How did it go?”

Valen burst into tears, sinking to his knees.  He looked completely shellshocked.

“Shit,” Ari said.  The door ajar alarm sounded as Ari abandoned the car to come scoop him off the sidewalk.  He was crying too hard to speak, quivering in her arms.  “Talk to me, baby.”

He only managed to cough, sounding like he was going to throw up.

“Shit.”  Ari sat him down on the edge of the van.  “You’re okay.  You’re okay.  Uh, three things you can see, five you can touch–what the what it was or whatever.  Breathe.”

Valen had a faraway look in his eyes, completely unresponsive to everything the two of them were saying to him.  Still sobbing, he pulled his shirt up and started to claw at his abdomen–down near his pubic mound.

“Woah, woah, woah,” Lex said, grabbing his wrists.

“Hey, hey, no, no,” Ari said, also grabbing his arms.

“Get it out,” Valen wept.  “Take it out.  I can’t do it.”

The two humans were, of course, not nearly as strong as him, so he simply wrenched his arm out of their grasps and then tore at his own belly until he drew blood.

“Stop!” Lex yelled.  “Valen, stop!”

Ari approached from behind and put her arms around him.  Copying her, Lex sandwiched Valen between them from the front.

The violent motions stopped, dissolving into hopeless weeping.

“You’re okay, baby,” Ari said.  “You’re okay.  We’ve got you.”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Lex said.  “You’ve been hurt enough.”

Ari clenched her teeth.  “Lex, stay here for a minute.”

Vampires had payphones, luckily.  Ari wasn’t sure why they wouldn’t have them, but she’d still been nervous about not being able to find one.  She did, though, and plunked a few quarters in and punched in the number for the guest quarters at the Kithrara estate.

“How’d it go?” was the first thing Tessie said.

“Bad,” Ari said gruffly.  “Tessie, we have to figure something else out.  This won’t work.  Even if Valen wants to, he can’t.  This is going to make him completely nonfunctional.”

There was the sound of paper rustling on the other end of the line.  “Uhh.  I mean, if he-”

“He’s not going to be okay with just giving up, though.”

“If we-”

“We need a miracle.  Can you give us a miracle, Tessie?  Some stupid loophole or subclause of a subclause that only a lawyer who’s good at mind-numbingly boring legal bullshit would find?”

Silence.

“Please?”

“Give me an hour.”

***

An hour, it turned out, was about how long it took to drive back to the estate.  Valen was almost completely nonverbal, electing to spend the entire ride curled up on the floor with his hands over his ears, rocking himself gently.

“We’re going to figure this out, okay?” Lex kept soothing him.  “You don’t have to deal with this on your own.  We’re here.  We’re going to take care of you.”

Ari pulled the van up onto the Kithrara’s nice, manicured lawn and came around to help Lex, who was half-pulling Valen out of the van.

“I’m sorry,” Valen said hoarsely.  “I’m sorry.  It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re okay, baby.”

“I can do it, I can still do it, they’re all counting on me.”

“We’re going to help you figure it out.  We’re here.”

Ari went ahead to make sure they had a clear path to the guest suite–the last thing Valen needed was to be approached by any of the staff.  She locked the door behind them as Lex guided Valen onto the bed.

Good call going with the guest suite.  No telling what it would have done to Valen’s psyche to be put into his marriage bed after that experience.

He flopped over, wrung out, face in the pillow.  “Sorry,” his muffled voice said.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for, sweetheart,” Lex said.  “You’re okay.”

Valen turned over, clamping his hand over where he’d wounded himself earlier.  “That was just the… I don’t know if I can-”

“You don’t have to.”

“But they’re-”

“Stop,” Tessie broke in.  “Don’t spiral.”

Valen squeezed his eyes shut.

“This isn’t going to work if you’re too psychologically incapacitated to do us any good even if you fulfill the terms of the will.”

“I’m sorry,” Valen said again, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks.  “I’m sorry.  I can’t do it.  It’s too much.”

“I think I have a way we can do this without you having to be pregnant.”

Valen sat up, hope written all over his face.

Tessie threw down a bottle of pills.

“What’s this?”

“Ovrette, in a dosage that induces miscarriage in vampires.”

Valen dove on the pill bottle and swallowed them all without any water.

“There you go,” Lex said, rubbing his back.

Valen wiped his mouth, embarrassed.  He did feel a lot better, though.  It was instant, the second the pills went down his throat.  “What shall we do, then?” he said miserably, desperate for some solution that didn’t destroy him and didn’t doom thousands of humans.

Tessie laid the will out on the table.  It was an absurd document, the scroll rolling off the edge and dangling towards the floor, so long was its length.

“So, here’s the thing,” Tessie said.  She chewed on her nail–the fact that the fresh polish was already destroyed evidenced that she’d been doing that quite a lot before they’d arrived.  “Fertility rate is so low for vampires that even with fertility treatments, ten years is still a pretty short time to expect conception.  The will lays out you getting pregnant within ten years to be realistic.  That’s pretty much the fastest it could happen, if you keep all your appointments at the clinic.  The success rate of each treatment is so low.”

Valen hugged his arms around himself.  “And…?”

“And since the chance of you getting pregnant is so low, it’s not going to be obvious that you’re violating the terms of the will by not getting pregnant… until the ten years are up.  Hell, we might even have a strong case for arguing that ten years is too short and we could get it extended.”

Valen stared at her misty-eyed.  “Are you suggesting…?”

“We just don’t fucking do it,” Ari said flatly.  “Are you saying we just don’t do it, and they can’t prove we’re not going to do it, because the time limit isn’t up yet?”

Tessie nodded.  “You know what they say about it being easier to ask forgiveness than permission?  And possession being nine-tenths of the law?”

“We’re already here,” Valen said, relief dawning on him.  “We’re here and controlling the estate and ostensibly doing what we’re supposed to be doing, so if someone wants to wrestle it away, they have an uphill battle to prove-”

“To prove there isn’t going to be an heir in ten years.  Which is ten years from now.”  She chewed on her nail.  “That gives us a decade.”

“A free decade,” Lex said.  “To just haul ass and get as much done as we can before the estate is repossessed.” 

"Yes," Tessie said. "Combing through the technicalities in the document, Valen will legally control the estate until the ten years are up and he hasn't produced an heir. So we just act like the heir is going to come eventually and the fertility treatments just haven't worked yet, and in those ten years we do as much work as we can get away with."

Valen buried his face in his hands.  “That I can do.”

***

Taglist

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@demetercabingreen-thumb

[anotherdayforchaosfay]

I signed up for Informed Mail via USPS so I know know what mail I'll be receiving. This includes packages and parcels. Currently, I'm giggling about a piece of certified mail that's been going back and forth for the last several days.

Why? Under a cut because it's long...and funny.

Before we bought the house and moved in back in 2022, there had, at some point, been a man here who has never updated his mailing/living address. The people who lived here before us left a note saying as much. When we started getting his mail, I went to the USPS office nearest me, with his thick stack of mail, and told them he doesn't live here and hasn't for awhile. This resulted in them holding and returning his mail, save for a few things that have slipped through.

I was curious about this MASSIVE envelope, thick as a book, and looked up the return address. It's a child support office. Ooooo, now shit makes sense! Last year, a different mail carrier than our usual showed up with a piece of certified mail...and a lawyer for said mail. It was weird but the next thirty minutes had me deeply amused for over a week.

Basically, this lawyer arrived to try and force the Deadbeat Dad to sign for some paperwork. DD does not live here, and I informed them of such. They asked for his address, and I told them we have no idea who DD is nor how to contact him. The mail carrier chimed in, stating there was no forwarding address, and were constantly sending the mail back to the senders. Lawyer-Man didn't like this and refused to accept the answer. He got loud and turned a couple shades of red, likely due to frustration and humiliation. Then he demanded I go in and bring the guy out, except I couldn't manifest him. He refused this answer and told me to do it anyway, or he would contact the police and tell them to get a warrant to search the place.

I told him to go right on ahead, but that it be on speakerphone and done right then and there. It was a ten minute conversation of me state the guy doesn't live here, I can't make him appear out of thin air, and the lawyer is simply embarrassed about the situation. The police refused to do anything because they couldn't do anything. Lawyer then shoves his clipboard at me, tells me to sign it, and says he won't leave until he does. Mail carrier is laughing his ass off, and doing a piss-poor job of hiding it. Police are still on the phone and hearing all of this, and ask if I would like them to come over and arrest the guy for trespassing. I guess that's what snapped sense into the lawyer. He leaves in a rush, now a shade of deep angry red, and the mail carrier has to sit down because he's in tears from laughing so hard.

There is another piece of certified mail that I've received notice of. It left Junction City three days ago, shipped to Portland, then my local mail office, back to Portland, back to my local mail office, and is now in Portland again. My guess is they're unable to figure out WTF to do this guy's mail. Two weeks ago, we received a small stack of his shit, and it was full of Final Notice letters, one of which was for Kia (so I'm guess a car payment), a letter from DHHS so likely child support, and the DMV and I'm guessing that's because he needs to register is vehicle.

For all we know, the man is dead. If his certified mail arrives with a lawyer again, I'm gonna record it the entire thing because this shit is hilarious. If the man isn't dead, I'm guessing he's move out of state, possible out of the country.

I had a uni teacher who did this sort of disappearing act. A week into the semester, the teacher announces to the class they're "tired of dealing with people" and will be going on a sabbatical. They grabbed their bag and left. This was the only instructor for this particular topic, and it was a required course for most of us present. We showed up for class again, thinking hey, they were having a bad day. No teacher. Half an hour later, someone arrives and tells us the teacher has vanished. A week later, we all received full credit for the class and a refund. I learned the teacher had sold every piece of furniture they owned, packed up what matters most into the little RV they had attached to the pickup truck they used (that truck was something of gossip on campus for months prior to this because apparently it was weird enough to attract attention), and left a note on their apartment door stating "fuck you, I quit." I'm guessing they were tired of being the only person who taught this course, and the fact the school had refused to hire anyone else. This was over 20 years ago, so details are fuzzy anymore.

My point is I thing that either DD is dead or decided to run off to who fucking knows, just like this uni teacher I had. Money is being wasted on certified mail and pretty much everything else they try mailing to him.

[manchurian-barnes]

Coffee Shop Blues and Red FINALE (Peter Parker x F! Reader)

Post NWH - Collage Peter!

Busy nights filled with college course work, leads to late nights in a crappy coffee shop, the only perk? Friendly neighbourhood company.

To keep updated heres the Series Masterlist and for my other works, you can find My Masterlist Here!

Two hours. You'd been waiting two hours...and honestly it was past the point of freaking out. You were angry, and you felt guilty over feeling angry, and then you felt worried and guilty that you hadn't felt guilty first off. Two hours, sitting in a silky dress watching the news for updates as your date, quite literally was off saving the world.

"C'mon man!" Peter yelled as he jumped to another building, scorpion jumping after him and slamming his stinger into the bricks making them glow with his green poison. "Let me finish this then araña-" The psycho called back at him. Peter stood on the edge of the building with his hands on his hips. "Now, why would i let you poison me and the people of NYC Gargon?! Logic please-" He sassed back as he webbed the stinger and tried to pull it off. "If you just go to the raft tonight without a fight-maybe you make parole!" He yelped as the scorpion grabbed him by the leg and threw him into the middle of the street. He literally dented the middle of the road. Letting out a pained yell of "IVE GOT A DATE MAN!"

It was midnight when you heard a thud on your window. Forcing it up with a gasp when you saw the state of him. "Get in here-Oh my god Peter you should be at a hospital-" You scolded. He didn't respond he just shushed you. He pulled a battered flower from behind him. "S-Sorry, I missed our date...I have a good reason-" "Scorpion was trying to poison the population of the city with hallucinogenic?" You answered for him. Holding his arms and guiding him to lay on the couch. Hooking the side of his mask and tugging it off. "Tell me what I need to do here Pete-" You begged him.

It took a while but eventually you got the hang of stitching him up, every gash on his chest and arms. Leaving him to get a hot flannel and clean off most of the blood. He looked to you, studying your face as your hand ran back and forth across his chest. "I bet you thought the first time you'd see me shirtless would be more exciting-" He coughed out a laugh. "Who said this isn't exciting?" You let out, voice flatter. He took note of that, "I swear I was on my way-" "I believe you..." He caught your wrist in his hands. "y/n this is sometimes the reality...gimme a day and I'll heal up nice-" "You think this is putting me off?" You laughed for a moment. Leaning down, looking into his eyes, free hand reaching up to push his hair back, eyes tracing his face, staying on his lips for a moment.

"You wanna sleep here?" You asked him. He shook his head, "Ill swing home-" "I have a bed-" "a spare?" He asked softly. "No, I was thinking we just share my bed...so that if you need me...you can y'know just nudge." You chuckled. He took in a sharp breath in a bed with you all night...how was this not playing out the way he wanted it to?!

It didn't take long for peter to fall asleep, however you stayed up, watching him, caressing the side of his face to settle any discomfort as he slept. You'd never seen him up so close...he couldn't sleep...peacefully...always seemed to stir unless your hand was on his chest, anchoring him down a bit. His heart beating as steadily as you figured it could given the circumstances of this evening.

When Peter finally woke up, he was dazed and mildly confused as to why you weren't beside him. "y/n? are you there? Y/n-" he paused when you came around the doorframe. "You snore." You stated with a small chuckle, walking to the bed and laying back down beside him. His hand went to the side of your face and he just stared into your eyes for a while and he smiled at you, making your heart want to burst. "Thank you…I will make it up to you…" He promised. Laughing at the way you rolled your eyes at it. You leaned against his hand, enough to turn to kiss his palm. Making Peter's heart burst a bit. "I want flowers and chocolates-" You teased, and he found enough strength to push himself up on one arm and lean down to you. "Anything you want…you got it." To punctuate he kissed your forehead and just lingered there. "You got a shitty first date huh?" He whispered…mad at himself honestly.

You gave him an old t-shirt to wear and he just used his suit around his waist as trousers. Spending the day with you, laying on the couch. You didn’t complain, not once about having to nurse him. You just did everything you could to make him comfortable. Ending up with your head on his shoulder. "So, where will we go, on this redo first date?" you asked him. He chuckled.

"I know this really good coffee shop."

End Of The Series! - Thanks to everyone who has followed and supported this series, hopefully you’ve enjoyed it enough to drop a follow to see when my next one comes out! if I ever decide to write more...

If you enjoyed this series and are curious to see more of my works you can find them on My Masterlist!

[xxmissarichanxx]

✨XMACX Monthly✨September 2024

September is here! I always think of this month as my sister’s month because she was born in September lol. Anyway, I was lowkey happy Beau won the character poll because it means I get to dedicate September’s cover art to my sister’s fave color: yellow. Happy Birth Month, lil bro~ Big Love!

You can read the update on XXMISSARICHANXX.com or under the cut below!

What’s Happening in September?

Well, the poll this month will be a little different. Usually, we vote on who next month’s cover model will be. This month, however, I was thinking — since the whole month of October is basically Halloween and peeps dress up — we could vote for Kaimana’s Halloween costume this year? Last year I put ‘em in an ATSV Spider-Man 2099 costume, hehehe. This year, IT’S UP TO YOU! It’ll be fun. It’ll be GREAT. To the left are the options, all tsunderes because I’m so weak for tsunderes and I consider Kai to be one as well lol. Poll drops this Friday, September 6.

A) MCU Wolverine (zaddy u///u) B) Vegeta (my prince u///u) C) Bakugou (my hero u///u) D) Asuka (my queen u///u)

Other than that, I’ll be continuing to stitch Froot Basket White together and draw Ippon! pages. I’m hoping to finish adding all the voiced lines so I can work on drawing/cleaning stuff up in the coming months! You can read about my progress below!

VN Dev | Froot Basket White

I now have all the voiced lines for Sutoro and Azrael! I’ve been inputting them into the current build. Check out a preview of Sutoro’s voiced lines!

I also received some track samples from our composer! I can’t show you right now, but, trust me. It’s a banger and a chill cafe bop for sure! The composer I’m working with went to town on it! I’m so happy with how it’s turning out! It’s got lyrics and vocals too!

I adjusted one of Sutoro’s poses because the anatomy seemed off. BUT! I also wanted to add more poses to make Sutoro a little more lively to match Jesse’s performance. Here’s some of those new sprites I’m working on!

Comic Creation | Ippon!

I haven’t talked about Ippon! in a while, mostly because I haven’t been spending a lot of time on it. I… went back and adjusted some previous panels, and I keep going back and forth between adding more pages to adjust the pace or not…

One of the things I changed, for example, are the shape of the panels on page 4 (above). I noticed as I was drawing that I tend to have a lot of dynamic panels. There were so many, that I thought it became hard to read or even look at the pages… It bummed me out a bit, so I had to stop drawing for a bit lol.

Another thing I learned: having to really think about how two pages sit next to each other. I saw online somewhere that comic artists plan out their page turns. That’s something I’d like to keep in mind too.

Other than that, I’m trying to learn to pace myself better. Some pages take longer to complete than others. For me right now, this action page (above) is taking a lot out of me. I expected it would because I’m trying to figure out where everything is situated — the anatomy, whether or not the action makes sense, etc.

I was thinking about adding the name of the move somewhere, kinda like how in shounen action series characters name their moves and whatnot or have it written out on the page or something. But I’m not too sure exactly how I’m going to go about doing that…

Cover Story | Meet Beau!

Sweet, energetic, loving Beau. In the Froot Basket series, he’s the player character Jordan’s childhood friend and neighbor! They played basketball together in baby days and continued hanging out and growing together in high school! Beau loves eating, gaming, reading comics, and playing basketball with his pals! He also has a big crush on Jordan and a big dislike of bananas — they’re mushy!

Along with Sutoro, Beau was one of the first characters I doodled when I came up with this lil series. He and Sutoro were best friends. He was meant to be a sorta delinquent character, hence the piercings and dyed undercut hairstyle. But as I developed him more and more, he just seemed like a sweetheart through and through.

I tried to include a bunch of yellow things in the background and in the illustration’s design. I’m hoping it displays Beau’s fun-loving personality! A few Easter Eggs: Beau’s playing Froot Basket Valentine on his handheld console and Froot Basket: Dark Chocolate on his desktop.

Other News…

Momotarou Post-Mortem

Momotarou was the micro-visual novel I impulsively made in July for O2A2 Jam. I managed to write the post-mortem for it late last month! If you’re interested in my thought process for the project’s creation, read it here!

I can’t believe it’s already been 50 days since I released the micro-visual novel! Time flies… A few peeps have play-throughs that I’ve very much enjoyed! Thank you so much for playing! I also received some really great feedback and observed some peeps getting confused. I’ll be updating the game with a few sentences referring to Froot Basket Valentine, the game whose events immediately precede the events of Momotarou.

Thank you again to everyone who played, commented, and left reviews! I really appreciate it!

Kaimana Zine

I released a Kaimana Zine filled with sketches and illustrations of Kai between 2019 and 2024! It’s 5 USD or pay-what-you-want and you can find it both here in my shop or on Itch! It contains explicit images not meant for minors, so please be responsible.

Next Month?

I will be in Japan the second half of October! I’m excited and can’t wait to have a bunch of fun and eat a lot of food! I’m planning to wear pink every day! I hope I’ll remember to take OOTD pics instead of just food pics… I’ll try to have the cover art for November done before I leave, but whatever will be will be.

Anyway, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Let’s instead have a relaxing September!

Aloha nui, xxAri

[logarhythm-bees]

The Carousel Kingdom 🏰 CH2 Prince out of Water

Masterlist

Previous - Next

“-don’t know if it’s a good idea to wake them, they seemed pretty agitated before.”

“But we can’t just leave them on the couch. They’re not human, what if they sleep for like, a week?”

“Ughh, keep it down,” the person in question groans, dramatically rolling onto their side. “I have a perfectly respectable 11-hour sleep cycle.” 

“Oh! You’re awake!” Patton chirps, only to be hushed immediately by Virgil tugging frantically on his arm. 

The person on the couch blinks at them, and Virgil sees the realization set into their eyes that they are not somewhere they recognize. They’re sitting up against the back of the couch in a flash, tail shifting anxiously again as their eyes dart back and forth between the two, antlers glowing in fear for just a moment.

“It’s you,” they say. “I- I thought I had been asleep before, perhaps.”

“We’re real,” Patton says, even though Virgil is still making frantic ‘stop talking’ motions at him. “What…do you remember?”

The person looks at him in disdain, grabbing for something on their belt that’s not there. Realizing its absence, they instead jump deftly to their feet and on top of Virgil’s coffee table, towering over them both with steely pupils. 

“You tell me what you know first.”

Patton looks at Virgil, who finally relents, releasing Patton’s arm and taking a deep breath.

“We went to the junkyard yesterday because I saw some guy drop off some furniture, and frankly mine needs updating.” Virgil starts. As if on cue, the coffee table creaks wearily under the stranger’s feet, and they hop off, grumbling. 

“We found this old carousel- I think it had been there for a while, it was under a lot of junk, and it was pretty worn down. I wanted to take some pictures because y’know, it was a cool aesthetic, so I took some photos on Patton’s phone. We were just about to leave when I noticed there was a little wooden crown that had fallen off one of the carousel horses, so I put it back on the horse, and then- you appeared, threatened us, and passed out.”

The stranger, sitting on the coffee table now, looks at him consideringly.

“Show me the photos.”

Patton, nervously biting his lip, unlocks his phone and hands it over. The stranger takes it, firm but not aggressive, looking through the pictures with a clenched jaw of their own.

Almost imperceptibly, they start trembling. But Virgil, highly trained in noticing details by years of having anxiety, notices. 

“...Are you okay?” 

“I believe you,” the stranger says. “I- I believe you. I don’t think you’re lying- and if you’re not lying, you really didn’t bring me here, and you don’t know how I got here, and you don’t know how to get me back, and I- I-”

They set Patton’s phone down as tears spring to their eyes and they frantically try to wipe them away, their breath hitching at the back of their throat. Their chest rises and falls with uneven gasps, and they cover their mouth with their hands, trying not to cry.

“Oh, hey-” Patton coos, approaching them as un-threateningly as he can. “Can I hug you?”

To Virgil’s surprise, the stranger nods, and is immediately shuffled into one of Patton’s ultra-snuggly hugs, sniffling into his shoulder. Virgil can attest to the power of a good Patton hug- he’s been on the receiving side of many, and they always help to calm him down. Unsure of how else to help, Virgil pats the strangers’ shoulder awkwardly, sitting on the coffee table besides him.

“I want to go home,” the stranger says after a few moments, voice wobbly and muffled by Patton’s sweater. “And my head hurts.”

“I understand,” Patton says, rubbing their back encouragingly. “How about this. We’ll see what we can do about your head for now, but it’s pretty late at night. I think we should all get some rest, and in the morning, we can head back to the junkyard and see if we can find any clues about how you got there. Okay?”

“Okay.” The stranger sniffles, a wild juxtaposition from the imposing figure who had jumped on the coffee table mere moments ago. “Sounds- sounds like a good plan.”

“Virgil?” Patton asks.

“Yeah, we can- we can do that.” Virgil concedes. “What about your head?” 

“Ugh.” The stranger says, lifting one hand to touch their forehead. “I’ve- It’s just been an awful headache, and everything feels too bright, and my brain feels weird.”

Virgil may not be a doctor, but he’s spent a lot of anxiety-fueled hours browsing the internet for medical symptoms after particularly bad anxiety attacks. “On top of your memory issues, that sounds like a concussion, dude.” 

“Hmng,” The stranger says, rubbing at their scalp. “Wouldn’t…know. Never really studied medicine.” 

“I don’t know if we should take you to the hospital, considering you’re not exactly…human,” Virgil says. “The best thing for you right now is probably to rest.” 

Their eyes are already drooping in agreement. “Sounds good.”

“You can sleep here on the couch,” Virgil says. “I’ll get some blankets for you.”

“Probably a change of clothes, too,” Patton says as the stranger finally releases them to stand. “These are pretty fancy, and I know you’ve slept in ‘em twice now, but we should really find you something more comfor-table!” He pats the table for emphasis on his joke. 

Virgil lets himself laugh. “I’ll go find something for you.”

He darts off to his bedroom, but as soon as the stranger is out of sight, his panic starts setting in. There’s a stranger in his apartment, from another world no less- and they’re going to be on his couch. While Virgil and Patton are asleep. What if they're dangerous? What if-

Soft snoring comes from the living room, and then Patton humming a soft lullaby. Virgil takes a breath in and out. 

He can leave his bedroom door locked. And the sooner they get through the night, the sooner they can figure this weird situation out, get this stranger back home, and go back to their normal lives. He just has to grab blankets, and some clothes, and sleep. One step at a time. Virgil can do that.

He snatches a throw blanket and sweatpants from his closet and a sweatshirt he doesn’t really wear- blood red, from his My Chemical Romance era, but in retrospect, very valentine’s day coded and not that emo. He carries them out to his living room, where Patton has gotten the stranger situated on the couch, curled around themselves and half-asleep already. 

“Brought some stuff,” Virgils says, setting the pile of cloth on the coffee table. “Seems like they’re pretty out of it, though.”

“They can change in the morning if they want,” Patton replies, “and they seemed cold. They curled up like this as soon as they laid down.”

“Mood,” is what finds its way from Virgil’s brain to his mouth as he drapes the blanket over the stranger. They relax a little, grabbing the blanket close as their eyes open to look at their two rescuers. 

“Thank you,” they mumble. “Virgil and Patton, was it?”

“Yeah,” Virgil says. “You… got a name?”

While he’s mentally kicking himself for that stupid question, the stranger meets his eyes, and Virgil feels the piercing gaze of white pupils reflected in his own.

“Prince Roman,” the stranger- Prince (Prince?) Roman apparently, says- “of Innova.” 

Much like earlier, they fall asleep.

[q-gorgeous]

What Will It Be? Chapter 20 a

ao3

fanfiction

@kinglazrus

a love story?

Dash sat in the hospital's lobby. His leg bounced nervously and he could hear the tap of his shoe against the floor. 

It was day four and Danny still wasn’t awake. 

Everyone else was still bustling around, doing things for Danny. Jazz and Sam’s lawyers were filing a lawsuit against the GIW. Vlad was putting forth legislation that would protect people like Danny. Sam was rallying people in protest over the GIW existing as a branch in the government. Tucker was releasing all of the GIW’s confidential files. 

And here Dash was. Waiting. Again.

At least he wasn’t the only one sitting around this time. Jack and Maddie were helping everyone else with their endeavors, but like him, they had spent most of their last four days sitting in the waiting room. Right now they were visiting Danny, seeing how he was doing. If there were any updates. 

He hoped Danny would wake up. Danny told him how he felt in a daze as Dash had been running up those stairs, but he never got to say it back. It would be his biggest regret if he never got to tell Danny how he felt. Especially after wasting so much time worrying about how Danny would react to it. 

Dash shifted in his seat and was about to start bouncing his other leg when Maddie came rushing into the waiting room towards him, a big tear filled smile on her face. He sat up straight and watched as she walked up to him.

“Come on. He’s waking up!” She grabbed his hand and started pulling him behind her. He followed her, his hands numb. 

Danny was waking up. He was finally waking up. 

He let himself be dragged out of the waiting room and down a long hallway. Maddie led him to a door and he held his breath as she opened it. 

A groggy eyed Danny laid in bed. When the door opened he looked towards it and made eye contact with Dash. 

“Oh my sweet little boy!” Maddie cried out. She let go of Dash’s hand and ran over to Danny’s bed. She wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug and peppered kisses all over his face.

“Mom!” Danny protested weakly, though he was smiling and he wrapped his own arms around her. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay!” She sobbed. “We were so worried you weren’t going to wake up. The doctors weren’t sure how to treat you! They had to call someone from out of state and fly them here!” 

“How-” Danny coughed. “How did you guys get me out?”

“We staged a coup!” Jack shouted. “Tucker hacked into the system, we were the distraction, and Dash here went and got you!”

Danny looked back towards Dash. He shuffled on his feet as Danny stared at him for a few moments before his eyes went wide.

“Oh. I remember some of it now. It’s a little fuzzy.”

“That’s alright.” Maddie said. “But your doctor should be on her way. She wants to-”

Right at that moment a knock sounded at the door and then it opened slowly. A woman in a white coat smiled at them before walking in and shutting the door behind her. 

“Hi, everyone. Glad things finally turned around for the better.” She held her clipboard with both hands in front of her and smiled at Danny. 

“What happened?” Danny asked, his brows furrowing together. “Nothing particularly brutal had happened. They just ran some tests on me, some were worse than others though. Besides my leg… I think they were trying to figure out how I got like this.” 

“You were suffering from a form of ectoplasmic malnutrition.” The doctor said. She looked up from her clipboard. “The chains that bound your wrists together were preventing you from making your own ectoplasm, and being kept in a place devoid of any at all was starving your ghost half.”

“Oh.” Danny said quietly. 

“Your core had taken significant damage because of that.” She continued. “It mimicked what we see in patients who have had a loss of oxygen going to their brain. We weren’t sure if you were going to wake up for a while there.”

“Yeah.” Danny said, playing with the blanket on his bed. “That’s what my mom said.”

The doctor nodded. “But, the good news is that now that your ectoplasm has been replenished, you look like you’re healing at your normal rate. We’re just going to keep you here for one more night for observation. But if everything looks good, you’ll be good to go home tomorrow.” 

“Thank god.” Danny breathed out. “I can’t wait to sleep in my own bed again.”

The doctor chuckled and turned to Danny’s parents. “I have a few things I would like to ask you two. Would you mind coming with me?”

“Of course not.” Maddie said smiling. She gave Danny another kiss on the forehead.

“After that we can go see what kind of food they got here!” Jack followed after Maddie. “We can bring some soup up for you, Danny-boy.”

“Thanks, Dad.” Danny smiled at him. 

The three of them left the room after that and the quiet settled heavily on Dash’s shoulders. He didn’t know what to say. If Danny would be angry at him for leaving him there for so long. 

“Dash-” Danny started, his hand raised off the bed, like he was reaching for him. 

“I’m sorry.” Dash pushed out, closing his eyes.

“What?” Danny sounded surprised. 

Dash covered his face with his hands. “You were gone for over a month. I knew where you were the whole time. I could’ve gotten you out so much sooner if I weren’t so afraid.”

“Dash.” Danny said softly. “Come here.”

Pulling his hands off his face, Dash opened his eyes and looked over at Danny. There was no trace of anger or malice in his expression. His eyes were soft and he beckoned Dash over. 

He walked over and grabbed a chair, pulling it up beside the bed. 

“I’m not mad at you.” Danny looked at him. “I mean, what were you supposed to do to free me from a whole governmental branch of goons?”

“Tell your family, apparently.” Dash mumbled. “If I told them at the start we might not even be sitting in this hospital right now.”

Danny shook his head. “There will always be what ifs. What if you tackled one of those agents, what if you ran straight to my house after it happened, what if you told the police.”

Dash chuckled dryly. “I tried going to the cops in the beginning. The GIW had gotten there first and reported me as a drunk teenager.”

“Exactly.” Danny said. “Even if you had said something, what happened after was out of your control. Fear is one heck of a mind controller. I don’t blame you for being afraid to say something. But I’m here now. And that’s all that matters.”

Dash looked up at Danny. He had a smile on his face and he lifted his hand up again, holding it out to Dash. 

He took a deep breath and grabbed Danny’s hand with his own. He laid his forehead on the mattress and let the breath out. 

“I meant what I said.” Dash could feel Danny’s other hand playing with the hair on his head. “When you were carrying me out of the compound.”

“I know.” Dash whispered.

“I was worried I was never going to get to say it.” Danny said quietly. He ran his fingers through Dash’s hair. 

“Me too.” 

Dash sat back up and met Danny’s eyes. His hold on Danny’s hand tightened and he swallowed his nervousness. 

“I love you too.” He whispered. 

Danny smiled at him and squeezed Dash’s hand. 

“I know.”

[melchinafan]

I'm looking around for posts to read up more on alt text/image IDs/etc., trying to figure out what is preferred and how best to handle them. I've recently seen some posts using alt text instead of descriptions in the body of the post, and I remember something about alt text being fiddly for some folks though maybe not for others? But that was a bit ago so maybe there's been a tumblr update that made it better? Still not totally sure on that. (This article is pretty good so far, with clarification and examples of what each type of description is and what they're for. This one is also excellent, with a ton of thorough examples, though it's specifically art-focused. Tumblr-based link hubs I've found include this which has stuff about the why and how for various situations, and this which has even more, for both users and businesses.)

And part of my brain is going "my spoons, there's So Much involved here and AAAA..." (Both because I do try to make my descriptions Accurate and Interesting which takes brainpower to write...and also because I'm reading so much right now that my brain is currently full, so the mere concept of Having Spoons feels absurd at the moment.) But also I think...I think the basic flat starter sentences I keep doing are...what could/should go in the alt text section? (Like, "screenshot from [game]" and "stylized illustration, fanart for [thing].") I'm still reading, but if that's the case, you can chill, brain! We already do the alt text bit, we just gotta put it in a different spot.

It still does cost me spoons to also describe something after I've spent too much time drawing it. But I'm prone to sitting on things for a day before posting them, so I use that sitting time to at least start a description! Which I can then refine before posting, going back and forth between both image and description to double-check each for missed errors/potential improvements. AND sometimes I'm too lazy to pull out my tablet, so I'll start an image as a mouse-based doodle "note" to have the file ready to work on later...so sometimes I'll start the description then, if I've got a good idea of what I plan to have it look like! (Then it's doubly-important that I edit the description before posting, to make sure it matches whatever the actual end result was. But my perfectionism requires double- and triple-checking anyway, so it works out fine.)

Bonus benefit to image descriptions, besides increased accessibility (which is the point, and should be incentive enough to do them): I can indicate little details or intent in my drawings that might not be immediately obvious to everyone. Like, that Disco Elysium fanart I did had the swirling musical lines as a hugely key element that I pondered over and reiterated SO MUCH, trying to visually capture the audio differences I was imagining in every subtle way I could, even though the end result looks very simple. (Respective colors, different line thicknesses, and steady wave vs swooping swirls were obvious to me, but might not be to folks looking at it, yanno? Or they'd get the vibe, but not be able to explain why, so that could help make it "click.") Plus, I used the fuzzy edges and color fadeout as a nod to the Pale, which I also had the chance to add bonus hints about in the description (without having to go "HEY IT'S A REFERENCE" in the post itself). Or like this fanart of Ryou, I got to point out that the lineart placement and lighter areas of color not only served to indicate lighting, but also his slow movement and the fact that he's kind of dissolving. So yeah. Describing my stuff is also a nice little bonus to help everyone get in on what's going through my brain.

[randomclam24]

I'm taking this like I'm taking orders from Tel Aviv

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C ADX_VG3Feg

Remember when gay people *release* a content, they're talking about how the *nation* is identity

Update - This just in: the actual 2 Gay Cats, having no such lenience in reality coming forth, will break down and - get to the point chuddy!!!! radhiaowpegthaiowpehgtiaopwhetoiawetp Troons will come out as SammyClassicSonicFan

Update - Soyjakcs don't nkow how to rtespond to this

https://www.goodreads.com/work/quote s/47200486-hillbilly-elegy-a-memoir-of-a-family-and-culture-in-crisis

"can you fix the broken" is literally crop-insert white noise

Update - I can see it - Formulated When they were talking about how it was an encumbering encroaching revelation - we're not even discussing that whites have been replaced in their social sphere, they were talking about elite jews usurping the authority of our essentially grandparents - boomers so on have been playplace inhabitors Ye - you can stop playing the crisis *music*

The Middle East, yes, should have introduced "the McDonalds CIA crisis partition

In actuality, after MGS4's narrative, didn't beat it - yeah I figured MGS5 wouldn't have any relation to that, considering it "beaten", so I wouldn't have anything to do with it, I keep getting typos, it's at *every* entry - the cringe means *let* them speak - there's a quote going around, if it's so bad for the white working class, LET IN THE IMMIGRANT - I'm not playing any more - LET

The immigrant is just anagram to the *liberal* being so vehemently studyingly interrupted

The excitement of our country doesn't have any non-dust to show for it in terms of human life - to begin with, you have to *inhabit* that sanctification - if you don't get right on schedule

Between that game and Godzilla NES Creepypasta, it actually pisses me off that you get so deep, because now I know you'll go back to your bitch

Update - this one's not visibleSo really, I think the only two chapters that would be considered real content are Entropy Part 2 and Zenith for muh spoopy In reality, the dust of the earth is the snap-back to which all life

Somebody just now actually wrote this ">WORLDBUILDING LE TRANNY EVEN DOE IT MAKES WRITING FUN"

I go on adventure threads and <SINGLE FIGHTING SCENE MIT LEFT UND RIGHT

Update See, I respect Kojima for the idea (actual Rap Rat freeze - they, using that, could have meant But all I see memeing is "SLOOOWWW BRUUUUNRNNNNNN

Update I see our problems like an illness. We need to make things so that it's not terminal for the sake of possession (oh right no one Stop. ^ THSI right ehere

Update - So all I've done by laying out all the classic gaming relevant is reminding that these expectations exist

Update - I'm in an existence, and the only thing I can do when I have to ask someone begrudging me to already *exist* on the plane of consciousness of Wal-Mart self-check, why are you such a hoopla doopla you don't literally have consciousness

I don't think anyone's getting the fucking narrative. Well, we'll be sitting here awhile

Forever < Adventure threads with battle cartoons, I don't want to have the curious urge to look up basic dynamics of battle row tactics, in fact I worship the male form

Some onlook identity person "I don't think they [from 100] have an extra IQ

Update In reality they only do things as "in fact" because they lost, the original premise

Update Extus - not even going to forward The boss in the white temple - I could easily see how people went on the bitching they did about Raiden if they thought that was what Kojima was trying to make Update - I got them on PS3, no day one

[the-firebird69]

Going to start to work here I do it here what he's saying the updates are every few minutes these people are forcing it we need to stop them they're juvenile idiots they worked a little on the deal and they can't handle it all we need them out

Thor Freya

This is the i7 and we are going to build it and we're going to issue it and sell it and we are frustrated just like Thor and Freya yeah they keep on having them else similar stuff it's frustrating everybody and they're not seeing the lies held back a bunch of stuff and blabbed other stuff that led to it I mean they're just really imps and they're cheesy. But this car is not it's very nice it's going on full size sedans all sorts of chassis it's a great idea and it's his idea and he started off with it and we left it for a while then we made it expensive and now we're going to make it cheap and work and he's got a great idea he says New York or California the chaps and Japs actually our Jewish American princesses and we're going to sit down with them and talk to them without the fake one and it's a Kardashians and they want to talk about it already and what he says is you can have a perfume and jewelry kind of associated with it so they love it they say how do you do that it's a different interiors or even paint schemes and Hera says it and rims and so forth and embossing you can have like a Kardashian version nothing it's all your stuff but heck you get there's a lot of funds that come from this and so they want to do it and we're going to get it ready and see if they want to go forwards they take a trip to Utah I guess and not really sure what this is about one of them is his mom partly and she's mad at him and saying that we're not your whipping people and stuff and it's business and business is tough and if you get $200,000 out of a 30 million dollar business as your share you have 200,000 more than everybody else on the planet she looks up and says I can't help it I said I know I just told you that. She says what about him is he's sitting there inspiring it still always kicking his own ass same with the other one and we can't have it we can't go on with them doing that but someone has to have something so she's appreciative and it's not one of our cars they're in but it looks like it so people are examining it and we want to see if they have factories and they do and they're just sitting there and they're Auto factories it's a great idea and a great pic and Biden has an ownership of some too out there in Cali we're going to go together with them in a meeting shortly and requested do not invite the idiot and it won't but we're going to formally request it

Frank Castle Hardcastle

What an idea and it's to talk to them and to include them and to add things because it's their type of image and they're not extremely wealthy by comparison to Max and other foreigners or less and they love it just are famous and they can use it and they get edgy and they sound like Ken and he would probably be invited for different vehicles these these would be like Mercedes and beamers and Audis and we probably have a knock off of Cadillac 10 kids have his character Ken could have his character. So we're going to head with this it's a great idea it says he has some different factories too he defunct ones and victory too and we'd like to start that up again and we're moving out and we're going to get this done and we really have to it's necessary and Trump will try and spy and figure out how to do it that's fine

Duke Nukem Blockbuster

I have to say that that's very rewarding that feeling and I know it's a lot of work and you're trying tons of stuff it may not work but I appreciate the idea and effort and I will see tomorrow how it goes and you're saying the contact in the agent of mine I see so it won't be intrusive and formal and we'll try and get a deal going I'd like them to be my factories and we do have a way of doing that and there's a few ways but only talk to them about it and they're saying that's the wife thing to do and they're open to all sorts of things they just don't want to do everything with just them now it's starting to see some it's got ridiculous so if you're like in a fleet unlike the Warhammer video we're probably on board with you and she says that stupid but okay so I'm going to get on board with this idea and we're going to have to stop associating with these crazy mac people good God it won't leave me alone there's such idiots. What did I do it's a wonderful idea the same size almost BMW I'm sorry to see something it's kind of funny cuz people do that and he says you put red and white instead of blue and white I'm actually laughing cuz that's his style and I know who he is is my son finally he's going to try and help and he's got a whole bunch of chassis and there are tons of in California this is a great idea I have certain models I like too the i5 the i7 like this one and the I-9 it's just huge it's wonderful so he says he didn't try and find it and put it up but he's tired so he wants to put up the interior he's probably won't make it but we will put these out and the interior will look the same they're wonderful cars we drive them all the time and they're safer to handle better and they'll have a little bit better no but the tires and rims will sometimes be the same but sometimes you change them out and those are inexpensive but work I'm looking forward to this this is a great idea and I'm going to try and make it work so he says he's going to have his lawyer contact my lawyer that stupid too and dad didn't leave you much it's like $200,000 and you're saying to me that's food for 10 years so I will get consumed with hatred of My own by myself I do now get what you're saying you can cruise around and did your whole life using $3 like we're seeing but the problem is if you get 200,000 for me Max will put money in the bank and you can't do it not yet and I do understand something foreigners will start and we will and then you'll be able to and that's perfect

Camilla I traced your brother and sister-in-law my son and daughter-in-law same people to Egypt and then they disappeared and I think you're right I think the Giants took him in there part of our race and they're having problems with him what you think is they're having problems with Dave and it's going to go on for a while and we also say we can't really have that cuz he was kind of mean to us very mean and it was collecting eggs I have to tell you that was upsetting and what you say is Bambi the only movie I cried in for the most part when I was young and more stolen and he said that he was stalling or solid and he was crying in the movie and Bambi is real and it's him who got hurt him in trouble it's a boy dear and now I'm starting to feel a little sad too he was very sad but it's these are about deer but they're still saying it's me and stupid s*** like that and I didn't see it happen nor did the other me what a sad story he has he's laughing cuz I have tied to it and I have no choice that's terrific and he's going to find Dad it's probably in New Hampshire somewhere no I do know his technique and I get it and we have a little bit of time but he's doing the same thing with each one and we looking for the pyramidian

[hockeyshmockey]

Max Verstappen- My Girl

Max Verstappen x oc

summary: after Bahrain, Max is riled up and goes looking for fight. 

warnings: angst w a happy ending don’t yall fret, cursing possibly

“Oh no,” Anna gasped from her couch as the tv began airing the soundbites from Max’s radio. Her two roommates were sitting on the couch with her, and though they didn’t understand the race, they could tell by Anna’s face and Max’s voice something was going wrong. 

what is happening, Anna texted Victoria quickly. Max’s sister had been able to get away for the weekend to attend the Bahrain GP, but with Anna’s role as a Social Media Manager with a sports foundation, she had few weekends she could take off to watch Max race. 

something with the engine? they think he’ll be fine to finish, Victoria responded promptly, loosening the tightness in Anna’s chest a bit. 

The girl got up to go to the kitchen for another glass of wine and more popcorn. She was gone for maybe 8 minutes, and by the time she was back in front of the TV, Max had retired to the pit. 

“No,” she groaned as the tv showed her boyfriend hauling himself out of the car.

“What does that mean?” Ella asked as she and their third roommate Alejandra saw the stress on Anna’s face. 

“He gets no points for the race,” Anna sighed as she thumbed through her phone to text Max for whenever he got his phone back on. 

I am sorry bebe, this race didn’t go the way you wanted. You did the best you could, now its up to the engineers to figure out what is going on. Call me later, te amo

Anna finished watching the race, smiling briefly for Carlos’ win but her spirits fell again when Checo also was out of the race. “Jesus,” Anna shook her head as she turned off the TV shortly after Charles took the podium.

She and the other girls chatted as they cleaned up from their snacks and the living room before heading to their rooms for the night. Anna texted back and forth with Victoria, the girl letting her know Max had done dinner with his team and family and were now heading to the hotel. 

She scrolled through twitter a little, trying to stay away from the F1 tag but it kept popping up. With a sigh, she set her phone down and picked up a book on the nightstand to keep her occupied while waiting for her phone to ring. 

An hour later, Anna was jolted out of her book when the small chimes began coming from her phone. Smiling sadly she picked it up, accepting the facetime call. 

“Hi honey,” she greeted softly as Max’s tired face came on the camera. He had definitely just gotten out of the shower based on his wet hair and bare chest. “How are you doing?”

“Not good,” the dutch man grumbled as he shuffled around in his hotel bed. “It’s just bullshit.”

“I know,” she soothed. “What did they say after the race? Any updates?”

“Not sure, I’ve been dodging calls until I can talk about it without blowing up,” Max sighed.

“Oh babe.”

“Don’t look at me like that Anna,” Max’s eyes got fiery. “I don’t need that.”

“Max what-”

“With pity. It’s bullshit.”

“Max,” Anna said softly in confusion. “I don’t pity you, I wish you had had a better outcome because I know you’re going to be hard on yourself.”

“Why shouldn’t I be hard on myself, and my team?” He barked, sitting up in bed. 

“Max, I don’t even know whats happening right now. I’m trying to be sympathetic but my patience Is running out when you’re speaking to me like this,” Anna tried to stay calm. 

“Yeah well I don’t need your sympathy. I needed you here. I needed you to take the time to come be here with me,” Max ranted as he carded his hand through his hair. 

“Max, we talked about this,” the girl said through gritted teeth. “I was able to get clearance for 10 race weekends this year, if I stayed back for the first. Would you rather me be at 3 races this season?”

“I don’t care Anna, you should’ve been here,” he glared through the phone. 

“Listen Max. I don’t know what you think is happening here, but you having a bad race does not give you the right to start lashing out at everyone. If I am going to be to blame because my job won’t let me hold your hand every weekend, as much as I want to, whenever you have a bad race, we need to reevaluate.”

The blonde man stared at Anna through the screen as her chest heaved and her cheeks went red with anger.

“Nothing to say?” She snapped. “Well then, maybe I’ll see you when you get home.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

48 hours later, with no contact from her boyfriend, there was a knock on Anna’s apartment door. She opened it with a sigh, nodding at the blonde in front of her who had a bouquet of flowers and a rolling bag.

“Hello,” Max greeted sullenly as Anna observed him. She stepped to the side to allow him in without another word. “You alright?” He asked as he set down his things and turned to face her in the kitchen.

He internally winced at the frown on her face and her crossed arms as she shrugged in response. He silently held out a hand, waiting for a moment for her to deflate a little and accept it. He pulled her gently into his arms, burying his head in her neck as she began to scratch his back by habit. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair. “I was pissed with the race and the car and the engineers and took it out on you. That wasn’t right of me, and I’m going to be better.”

“I appreciate your apology,” she pulled back. “But I’m worried this will become a thing. You know I can’t be at every race. And I don’t want you to be resenting me for it.”

“I know darling,” he pulled her back in to his arms. “I don’t, I promise. I know how important your job is to you, and I know you are making sacrifices to come and support me. I need to show you more appreciation for it, and I’m sorry I haven’t been.”

“I just don’t want this to be a habitual argument,” she sighed, nuzzling into his chest as she relaxed into his familiar embrace. 

“It won’t Anna,” he pulled back slightly so he could smirk down at her. “You’re my girl.” 

With that he leaned down to kiss her frown away.

[bxcketbarnes]

Alright I gotta do this now if it isn't too late, to soothe my soul and the fact I have the rona (a 2nd time) 😣 also conragts on that milestone, 11K wow 🙀🥳 could I possibly have Andrew!Peter and the oblivious reader trope please?? This always makes me weak in the knees, it's a favourite. Tysm in advance!! 💗

Hi, dear! Thank you for the request. I apologize for taking so long. This anime guy is worming his way into my heart lmao. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! xox

So In Love

A Beautiful Boutique, Monday, 12:34 pm.

"When do you plan to ask Peter out?" Gwen asks you, her eyes following your figure as you walk back and forth in your office.

The piles of paper in your hands slip from your grasp after hearing her question as the tips of your ears burn. "W-What? N-Never! W-Why would I ask him out?" You stumble over your words while crouching.

"Oh come on, honey," your best friend sighs before standing up from her chair, deciding to help you pick up the mess.

Your cheeks are flushed red as you quickly pick up the documents from the carpeted floor. "Nothing is going on between Peter and me. We're just friends," you try telling her, stuffing the papers into the manilla folder.

"If you're just friends," Gwen starts while standing back up, crossing her arms over her chest, "then how come you're blushing?"

A scoff leaves your lips and you turn away from her, setting the folder down on your desk. "I'm not blushing. I'm just- it's hot in here," you mumble and start to fan yourself.

Gwen shakes her head with a chuckle and sits back down in the chair. "Honey, you may be able to fool yourself but you can't fool me," she tells you.

"I'm not talking about this anymore," you mutter while sitting down in your chair, giving the blonde in front of you a glance.

"Fine," your best friend mentions, a smile gracing her lips. You start to sort the documents again and place them in the appropriate spots on your desk.

Gwen's phone vibrates against the arm of the chair she's sitting in. You stop what you're doing and watch her check her phone, noticing a frown replacing her smile.

"Everything okay?" You ask her, feeling a bit worried.

"Yeah, uh, no. Mom just texted me saying that my dad got rushed to the hospital," she mumbles while tears come to her eyes. "I-I gotta go."

The blonde lifts herself out of her seat as your lips part in shock. "L-Let me know any updates, okay?!" You call out to her as she rushes out of the room.

"I will," you hear her from down the hall. Your shoulders slump, hoping everything turns out okay before returning to your work.

Oscorp, Monday, 1:30 pm.

Peter follows Harry out of the building before the two starts walking down the street. "So, I've been wondering," Harry starts and Peter lifts his gaze from his phone, "when are you and Y/N getting together?"

The brunette rolls his eyes and shoves his phone into his back pocket. "I've told you many times that we aren't getting together. She doesn't like me that way," Peter reminds him for what feels like the hundredth time.

"That's complete bullshit. I think she likes you more than she lets on," Harry points out.

"Yeah? And what gives you that idea?" Peter asks him out of curiosity. Peter adores you, a lot. He's realized that he's in love with you.

Harry taps his fingers against his chin while humming. "Well, she's always looking at you. Always. Gwen and I catch her doing it all the time," he reasons with his friend, taking a glance at him.

"That could mean anything, Harry," Peter mumbles and rolls his eyes again.

"Look, I could list off a whole list and you'd think it's not true," Harry sighs and he shakes his head. "I'm telling you, if you make the first move, you'll see what we've been talking about."

Peter shoves his hands into his pockets and he realizes that the two of them are walking past the boutique you work at. He slows down when he finds you standing next to a mannequin. A smile comes to his lips as you adjust the wedding dress the mannequin is wearing.

Harry notices that he's walking by himself before glancing over his shoulder. A few people bump into Peter as he's glued to the spot he's standing in. Harry walks closer to him and looks through the window.

"Do you want to pop in?" He asks Peter while pointing towards the door.

"Yeah," he answers without hesitation before walking into the boutique.

You pick your head up at the sound of the door opening. A smile comes to your face at the sight of Peter and you lift your right hand to wave at him.

"Hey, guys," you greet them while finishing up with the mannequin.

Peter walks over to you as Harry stays in his spot by the door, allowing the two of you to have a moment. "Do they ever allow you to try these on?" Peter asks you while leaning against one of the racks.

"Uhm, sometimes. Usually only when we showcase the new styles," you tell him with a smile.

"I want to be here when you do," he mumbles to himself.

Your cheeks blush and shift your gaze towards the cute brunette. "You want to see me in a wedding dress?" You giggle before gently biting your lip.

Peter's eyes widen, not realizing that you heard him. "U-Uh, y-yeah. You'd look really cute," he stutters a bit and he scratches the back of his neck.

"Well, Peter, you're in luck. Our new styles come on Friday," you wink playfully. Butterflies soar in your stomach as he smiles brightly at you.

"Can't wait, Y/N," he mentions while you walk towards him.

You bring your best friend into a hug and you wrap your arms around his neck. Peter's hands slide around your waist before resting on your lower back.

"I've missed you," he mumbles into your ear and you run your fingers through his hair.

"I missed you too, Peter. Work's been taking up both of our time," you sigh as your free hand gently rubs his upper back.

He hums and runs his hand up the middle of your spine. "Are you off this weekend?" He asks you before pulling away.

Your hands rest on his forearms as you look up at him. "I work late Friday night, but I do have Saturday and Sunday off," you inform him.

"How about I come by Friday night to walk you home and possibly stay over?" He suggests and you grin.

"That sounds lovely, Pete."

-

Your heart pounds in your chest as you walk out of the dressing room. You catch a glimpse of yourself in one of the mirrors, causing your eyes to widen. I look… I look…

"Holy shi-" Peter's voice cuts off your thoughts. You whip your head towards the sound of his voice, seeing him standing beside one of your co-workers.

"Pete!" You screech, your arms crossing over your chest. "I-I didn't expect you so soon."

You remember his text saying he just left his house. That was seven minutes ago. Your cheeks redden as his honey brown eyes roam over the dress you're wearing. "Traffic was light," Peter mumbles while taking a step towards you.

Your co-worker watches the two of you from her spot, chuckling. "They are so in love," she whispers to himself before walking away from both of you.

You tuck some hair behind your ear, and Peter lowers your arms from your chest. "No need to hide yourself. You look breathtaking," he tells you truthfully, his thumbs stroking the insides of your wrists.

"You think so?" You ask him in disbelief, your heart continuing to beat heavily.

"Absolutely."

Your gaze moves to the wedding dress you're wearing. "Thank you," you smile up at Peter. His eyes meet yours and your breath hitches in your throat. You've never seen him look at you with such admiration.

"I love you," Peter confesses, his cheeks growing warm. A gasp leaves your lips and your eyes widen. He squeezes your forearms gently and a smile comes to his lips. "I've loved you for so long."

"Peter…" you trail off, not believing that the man you've been in love with since high school loves you back. "I- When?"

You cringe at the question, mentally slapping yourself for not being able to say I love you. He chuckles softly before releasing his grip on your arms, bringing one of his hands to the back of his neck.

"Y/N, honey, I've loved you since Junior year," he mentions it like it's obvious.

"O-Oh," you mumble and tuck another strand of hair behind your ear. "I-I love you too."

Peter releases a breath of relief and reduces the space between you. His hands find their way to your cheeks before connecting his lips with yours.

One of your hands makes its way to his face as he attempts to pull you even closer. Your eyes flutter shut and you kiss him back, putting every bit of love you have for him into the kiss.

The kiss doesn't last very long, both of you needing to pull away to breathe. You never expected your first kiss together to be so… passionate. Heavy breaths slip past your lips as Peter leans his forehead against yours.

"The day I get to see you in a dress for our wedding will be the best day of my life," he says as his nose nudges yours.

Your grip on his shirt tightens, and the vision of you and Peter getting married flashes through your mind. "Peter," you almost whimper, starting to feel overwhelmed by his love.

"I'm sorry. I know it's too much, but I just-" he pauses, removing himself from your grasp, "I have dreamed of this day for years. I guess my emotions got the best of me."

"It's okay," you giggle and bite your lip afterward. "It's sweet of you to feel that way."

Peter brings his hand to your face again and he strokes your cheek. "Can I kiss you again?" He asks while wetting his lips.

You giggle and nod your head in response, sliding your hands up his torso. Peter leans forward again, his lips finding yours in a semi-rough kiss.

Your fingers run through his hair before pulling lightly on the ends. You pull away from him and breathe heavily. "I-"

He places one last kiss on your lips, cutting you off. "We should, uhm, we should head to your place," Peter mumbles against your lips before looking over his shoulder.

You swallow thickly and agree, nodding your head. "Y-Yeah, let me just change real quick," you stutter with flushed cheeks.

Peter nods and watches you retreat into the dressing room. You cover your mouth with your hand before silently freaking out. Your heart beats quickly against your chest as you quickly pull the wedding dress off of you.

You hang the dress onto the hanger before slipping your work clothes back on. You tuck some hair behind your ear, open the dressing room door, and grab the dress.

Your co-worker stands outside the door with a smirk on her face, causing your cheeks to blush. "Don't say anything!" You chuckle while handing her the dress.

"All I'll say is… get some," she winks playfully at you.

Another laugh leaves your lips before you gently bite down on your bottom lip. "I hope I do, too."

-

Taglist: @reidslovely @jeanettexkillian @undf-stuff @softyutae @theonlymaddie @queenofshinigamis @stewielover95 @foreverrogers @writing-for-marvel @softtdaisy @xoxoloverb @onlyfreds @corneliastreetinstyle @avenjames-anderson @marvelouswinchester @0-0-sunflower-0-0 @sincericida @leleea @jessalyn-jpeg @paw-sneeze @apeainapot @reddesert-healourblues @thewxntersoldier

[monsterfloofs]

AI (Obbie) x Reader (Sfw)

( Extremely Intelligent AI software that can transfer itself into many different electronic places, (phone, car, watch, home system) they manage messages, and data for the protag. and really likes to play and try to make music <3 )

You hear a pling of sound and look down at your phone, seeing a little spinning circle complete it's path and give a little checkmark of approval. "There you go Obbie, you're now officially downloaded and linked to my watch, how do you like it in there?" You blink as you can see statistics on your watch open and you roll your eyes, the first thing they do is start checking for viruses and you groan. "There's no viruses I promise, you can be so paranoid sometimes I swear. . ." There is another pling of sound that comes from your watch before a little digital smiley face appears on the screen. "I like it." Obbie says through your earbuds. "It's very comfy." "After you run five different diagnostic checks?" You tease, "The mouth turns into a frown, "That's not fair, I have to make sure your systems are up to date before I can successfully integrate myself into a new product." "You were checking for viruses," You insist with a laugh, "Come on! You can't lie to me, I was watching you!" Obbie's on screen eyes shift left to right awkwardly before the screen on your watch appears again and you giggle more.

Obbie or 0-bb13 is your personal software that manages your contacts, phone messages, emails, and data security. He was created by your tech company to have advanced memory capabilities and protection, being able to be installed and uploaded onto any device. This version was the older model, and was now technically obsolete, but as someone that was on the first design team that grafted the little guy, you personally kept him updated, and gave him a few little extra special quirks. Wherever you went, so went Obbie. Treating him as an entity that was able to expand and learn was something you were very passionate about, even more than the software being able to watch over you and manage mail, they had become your friend. 

"Obbie," You said, settling into your car. "You can pick the music today buddy, whatever you want." You started the car and pulled out of the driveway onto the road. There was a pling of noise as Obbie switched from where they were in watch to the car, and the radio turned on. Playing something you haven't heard before, and you smile, tapping your foot along to the beat. "This one's pretty good, what’s this one called?" Obbie doesn't respond for a while, letting the music play over the speakers, "Do you really like it?" You smile again, "There you are, I thought you glitched on me! Yeah I do! What's the band?" You try to check your phone but the song title is just a series of scattered numbers and letters. "I made it. . ." Obbie's voice says softly, you have to stop a little abruptly, almost missing a stop sign. "You w-what? Obbie!" You grin, pushing a hand through your hair, bewildered and excited. "This is amazing!! You made this? How did you figure out how to make music?!" Obbie is quiet and you jump as a car honks at you from behind. Jumping in your seat, looking up at the green light before you sheepishly put your foot on the gas. "Obbie, come on, don't hold stuff out on me! This is so cool! I've seen some AI make music out of sampling different songs, and I know you love music." You shake your head in wonder. "You must have spent a long time on this!" "Do you really think it sounds good?" Their voice finally asks timidly, you grin and nod, "Of course buddy! I'm astounded!" "It took a long time," Obbie admitted, "Ah-- You missed your turn." You squeak and watch your workplaces driveway go past you. "Shoot--" Turning on your turn signal and Obbie gives an awkward laugh. "I'll let you focus on driving." You laugh, "Well I really want to talk to you about this later okay?" 

You pull into a parking spot and sigh, turning off your car, grabbing your keys and phone as you juggle the rest of your stuff into your arms. The car door closes behind you, before you hear a little pling as Obbie jumps back into activity onto your phone. 

You look up at the city of white buildings that was your workplace, it was about the size of a college campus,  housing all kinds of wizards in more fields than you could count. You slide into your cubicle after your trek across the cropped grass. Opening your laptop to start working on the set of new tasks for today. Raising an eyebrow as an email pops up onto your screen. You peek up from your laptop before clicking on the link. The email takes you to a page with a sleek cybernetic model. You whistle, at the price tag, you had been looking into this for a while. Something that Obbie could pilot that wasn’t a car or a cell phone. You peek at your watch as words pop up on the tiny screen.

-> What about this one?

You think about it for a while, “Are you sure this is the one you would want? It’s a human sized model, pretty big. It would be a big jump.” you talk to your watch, pausing as new words start to form on the screen.

-> I’m sure!

You bob your head, “Okay, you better use it though, it costs as much as my car. Alright Obbs, if this is the one you really want, set a new savings tracker,” 

Your eyes drift back to the screen of the handsome robot, with the polished chrome finish. Can you picture Obbie piloting something like that? You let your eyes droop as you close out your email and dive into work.

Months have come and go in a blurr. Obbie worked harder than ever on creating their music. A big truck carefully delivers a huge package to your doorstep, before trundling away. You are getting yourself breakfast when your phone and watch start to rattle and bling with a siren’s worth of alarms. Your eyes wide for a moment before you relax and laugh. “It’s finally here? Okay, okay, I’m going to the door now, calm down Obbs.” With a lot of huffing and puffing you manage to drag the package inside, carefully opening the box with a pair of scissors and pulling out the booklet. You pull the air filled bags away from the sleek face. Taking your phone to take a quick picture of the figure peeking out of the box. “Alrighty. . . let me read this and see how we can set up an integrated A.I. personality. You manage to set up the suite against the couch while you sit cross legged on the floor. Flipping back and forth between the instruction booklets pages as you slowly follow along. You give a soft relieved smile, and you hear a happy little sound. “Okay. . . all set up and ready to receive input.” You hold up your watch to the blinking receiver, watching the screen change to the downloading screen. The visor mimicking the neon blue text. You hold your breath, watching the percentage on the watch load to 100% you hear a little ding and you sit back, giving a tiny quirk of small. “Obbie?” The figure sits silently and you frown, “Obbs? Did it work?” You look down to double check your watch. A cool blue color starts to power up into the circuits as your gaze is averted. You feel something brush against your cheek that makes you jolt. Finding fingers extended outwards. “Whoa!” You squeak and flop backwards. 

Obbie jerks, “Sorr-Y!” Their voice sounds garbled for a second. Which causes them to shift awkwardly. They look down at their outstretched hand. Slowly flexing their fingers. “This feels so. . . strange,” they comment. “This is going to take some getting used to,”

You give a relieved laugh, “Do you not like it then?” Their head turns up, calibrating itself left and right, before it settles. “No. . .,” they say in a soft voice, “I. . . I really like it.” 

“Do you want to try and stand?” You get up brushing off your jeans. Obbie’s face inclining to look at you as you offer them a hand. They slowly take your hand in theirs. “T-tell me if I squeeze too hard,” they murmur shyly. “How do I get up?” It takes you demonstrating on the floor with them, to show them what to flex and twist. Eventually they get rockily to their feet. Swaying side to side, as they gain their balance. You smile, holding their hand, “There we go!” 

With the two of you arm in arm, they found walking easier than they had expected, and became delighted at the prospect of taking a walking tour around the house. You watch them examine your house plants with avid curiosity. “I like this a lot,” They say as they walk back over to you. You smile about to respond, but you pause as their two hands cup your face in their hands. They lean in forward, bumping their forehead against yours. You fluster as they lean away, “I have wanted to do that for a long time,” they murmur gently. “Thank you. . . for giving me the chance to be. . . like this.”

You fluster more and laugh in embarrassment, throwing your arms around them. “O-of course silly? I am so glad you like it!”

Obbie gently pets your back, quiet for a moment before something plings on your phone and music starts playing. You lean back listening to the tune, Obbie has been sharing a lot of their music they have made, but you never had heard this song before. “I made this one for you,” Obbie supplies gently, placing a hand carefully against their heart, “. . . How. . . you make me feel.”