#and the problem i keep running into is that things will fit me super well in the shoulders but be too small in the butt

[pentanguine]

Further dispatches from Socially Anxious Suit Shopping:

I tried to go shopping in person and...it didn’t really work. It ultimately didn’t matter if I was confident and knowledgeable or an anxious wreck; no size that anyone carries in store fits me or is within my budget, so I went back to shopping online and ordered a bunch of things from ASOS. Two of the three have shown up so far and they also don’t fit, in a variety of complex and inconvenient ways. My hopes are not super high for the third one.

I might just stick with the first suit I bought... It is a little too small for me in the shoulders, but it fits me well in the chest without being too small in the seat, and I’d rather have the shoulders be too small than too large. Most women’s clothes I wore were too small in the shoulders, and I lived with the mild discomfort and didn’t care that they weren’t a perfect fit. It’s just that I care about my clothes now and I want them to fit well!

[darby-rowe]

maybe could we do a sub!coryo getting pegged by dom!reader and shes going super hard on him like spanking him,grabbing his hair and pulling him back against her cock? could we add some mommy kink in there too 🤭🤭

im so sorry i keep leaving my asks in the dust akskfks i write so slow im so sorry 😩

but anon this is such a hot idea. as a society we need to acknowledge the fact that coryo more than likely has a mommy kink

18+ | nsfw | mdni

cw mommy kink

coryo has a major attitude problem due to his unresolved trauma, and a common outlet he uses to vent his frustrations and express his emotions is letting you fuck the absolute shit out of him.

you can't recall how it happened the first time, but after coryo finally let you peg him, cooing in his face and calling him a good boy, he became obsessed with your silicone dick. and now you use this newfound kink as a way to 'tame' him when he's being exceptionally bratty.

you'd go out shopping in public, and you'd have to withstand coryo's complaining on how hot/cold it is outside, or how it's too crowded, or blah blah blah, etc. and by god did it get on your last nerve. was there anything in this world that coryo didn't complain about?

the last straw came and went whenever you wanted to try on a few dresses and coryo just let out the bitchiest sigh you ever heard. he didn't even say anything, and yet it made your blood absolutely boil.

so now fast forward and you have coryo on his knees in between your legs as you fuck his throat with your strap, watching his pretty blue eyes well up with tears as he gargles and gags on your silicone cock.

"that's it, baby," you purr, tangling your fingers in his soft blonde curls and guiding him back and forth on your dick. "such a nice little cocksucker, aren't ya? i guess those pretty lips are good for something else other than being a fucking brat,"

you softly wipe his tears away before plunging your cock down his throat, groaning at how hard he grips your thighs before letting him come up for air. and those wet baby blues of his never fail to get you going.

“say you love sucking my cock, brat,” you command, gripping tightly onto his hair. the whimper that emits from his throat has your knees feeling like water.

“i love…” he pants, gulping down saliva. “i love sucking your cock, mommy,”

absolutely delicious.

and one thing about coryo is that he is loud; especially when you have your cock balls-deep inside his ass, pulling him back by the hair and thrusting with everything you have. your pelvis smacks against the flesh of his ass, and he is nearly in tears from how rough you are. but it feels so, so good.

“mommy, please,” coryo babbles incoherently how good your cock feels inside him, or how you’re being too rough. his whimpers and mewls sound so fucking good coming from his swollen, spit-covered lips. “please, slow down. you’re so big. so deep. i can’t take it, mommy,”

“no, baby, you’re gonna take this cock like a good boy,” you pant, planting a hard smack! against the pale flesh of coryo’s ass. he lets out another whimper. “if you want me to slow down and be nicer, you’re gonna have to learn to not be such a fucking pompous brat. in the meantime, you’re gonna take my cock, and you’re gonna cum as many times as i see fit,”

and so you proceed to fuck him until he’s so dumb and blissed out that you can barely understand a word he’s saying — until he’s only repeating, “mommy, i can’t stop cumming”, and “my ass feels so good”, and “thank you, mommy”.

at the end of the night, you of course bring him the absolute best aftercare you can muster. you run him a bath, give him sweet kisses all over his pretty, tear-stained face, and make sure you tell him how much you really love him.

[seat-safety-switch]

There's this super fancy steakhouse near my home, and I've always wanted to eat there. Their salad bar is beyond excellent, a friend informs me, and their grated cheese is actually from Italy. Expense aside, you'd think this would be an easy trip for me. You're wrong.

You see, this steakhouse is so fancy that they have a special employee whose job it is to park my car. As far as I can tell by watching their parking lot with high-powered binoculars, their "valet" will take your car from you at the entrance, park it for you, and retrieve it for you when you're done eating. This, presumably, saves you the dinner-ruining stress of gently turning your vehicle to place it into a parking space.

Personally, I don't mind parking. My own backyard is full of cars packed helter-skelter, with mere millimetres of space between them. I could probably park a bus in here, if I really had to, but it would take me a couple of hours to get it back out. That's not the problem. The problem is that the valet would have to drive my car, which means I'd have to explain how to drive my car to them.

In case you think that's not a problem, allow me to explain. Most carbureted cars have a single choke, which you pull out when the car is cold in order to help it breathe a little better. Mine has sixteen, which must be pulled, bagpipe-like, in a specific order as the engine is running in order to keep it from dying at the lights. Could I fix it? Not until they create a bottle of head-gasket fix that also cures giant holes in the block.

Sure, I could park a few blocks away and walk there, but the valet will smell the desperation on me. If I have a rusty, propane-spurting 1970s Chrysler product, maybe I'm an eccentric. There's fewer of those left than Ferrari 458s, which makes me a "vintage collector," at least in the eyes of the super-rich-people yacht-owning magazine I tricked into doing an interview with me last year. All that goes out the window if I show up on foot. Same goes for letting my dinner date drive me there: her Hyundai Tucson is, well, a Hyundai Tucson. Not eccentric at all. Practical. They hate that there.

Ultimately, I think I'm going to have to bite the bullet and do things the hard way. I've already applied for a job as their assistant valet. There's an employee discount, and I'm pretty sure that I'll be head valet once the bossman sees that I can fit like 700% as many cars in there as the old guy. It's just going to take a few weeks to get them back out again, which is even better for business.

[headspace-hotel]

Thinking of your post on the problems of veganism as a movement vs veganism as a lifestyle choice/one technique amongst many, that also applys super well to my issues with degrowth (And anticonsumerism as well) as a movement vs degrowth as one technique amongst many for dealing with the hydra-crisis of overproduction/resource overuse/destroying people and places for resources.

Like, in particular as an autistic person the continual recurring insistence that we need to just "change our desires" creeps me out. As someone who's difficulties were dismissed as just "having a bad attitude" and who's interests were so often dismissed as a waste of time instead of preparing for a job in the "real world" IDK if they truly understand the full horrifying implications of that line of thought.

So here's the thing with the concept of "overconsumption"

I had to do this whole project on overconsumption in my Anthropology class where I compared my consumption habits to those of someone 2 generations older, the prof clearly had in mind that we would discover a particular result that I did not end up finding.

I had to watch this documentary called "Affluenza" which was all about how Americans consume too much and they shop and buy things for fun and it's killing the planet, and it kept making these statements like "The average american does X..." and "X" would be something insane that I've never dreamed of doing.

Now I technically grew up below the poverty line, we were always financially insecure and struggling to pay bills and there was never any extra money lying around.

But my upbringing felt average, even privileged. We had a house instead of a trailer on cinder blocks, we had food and clothes. Compared to the upbringing of my mom and virtually everyone she knew growing up, we lived in fabulous luxury.

And the "overconsumption" lesson was bizarre to me because it brought up things like "going shopping for fun once a week" and "owning 20+ pairs of shoes" as if they were normal. I wear my clothes until they're unwearable and shop for clothes like once a year, and my mom has half as many clothes as I do. She feels guilty buying anything for herself and HATES shopping.

It feels like the dominant resources on living an eco friendly lifestyle presume that we have far more agency in what we buy and use than we actually do, instead of being stuck with the cheapest or closest available thing, and that our lives are full of extraneous, non-essential "consumption."

That class brought up the idea of "conspicuous consumption" a lot, or buying things to obtain social status instead of for their concrete utility. The way "conspicuous consumption" was addressed in the class was not very immediately relatable to me—I never had the option of buying clothes just to appear "with it" socially. My parents couldn't buy an extra car to fit the aesthetic of the American dream—we had enough trouble keeping the one we had running. The "conspicuous consumption" that class addressed was just not available to me.

However, I don't think conspicuous consumption is endemic to stable members of a certain socioeconomic status, because consumption is partially driven by the trauma of poverty. People who grew up poor will buy you more Christmas gifts than you can store or use, because they want to spare you the shame they experienced. Their brains are molded around the trauma of not having enough, and giving you enough is their way of keeping you safe.

Conspicuous consumption as a habit is pushed on you if your ancestors were shaped by this trauma. It is a misrepresentation to think of it as driven by pride, because your ability to perform the behaviors and mimic the appearances of a higher socioeconomic status has a concrete effect on how people treat you.

I know J.D. Vance is a nutjob now and Hillbilly Elegy was...not great (I'm more appalachian than you bitch, and I'm not even appalachian!) but the one thing that book got incredibly right was the idea of "social capital" and the way access to financial security and wealth gives you social capital. This is the main thing the current understanding of "conspicuous consumption" gets wrong—the need to escape the appearance and behaviors of poverty is seen as vain and self-indulgent, when it's a survival mechanism and it's something you're expected to engage in to gain opportunities and respect.

Poverty is humiliating. People with money never think about the fact that they have money. They think of themselves as average, if they think of themselves in terms of socioeconomic status at all. Being poor ends up embedded in the grooves and folds of your brain.

I remember when I was about 12, I gave my friend an informal tour of our house the first time she came over, showing her every room. I realized later that this wasn't exactly a normal behavior—I had done it because my mom did the same thing when she brought her friend over, and my mom had done it because it was a way of saying look, I survived. Look, I have a place to live to call my own, isn't this nice?

At its worst, anti-consumerism just reinforces the myth that your consumption is purely a matter of personal choice. And unfortunately when the conversation is ruled by the privileged, this idea will appear substantiated—because rich people can choose the aesthetics of poverty without concretely affecting the way the world treats them. A rich person can choose to live in a "tiny house" but they will never be "trailer trash."

Anti-consumerism revolves around ideas that are almost irreparably tainted by the mythology of an unequal society. Rich people possess and control the aesthetic of restraint and frugality, allowing them to playact living a Simple Life where they live in a tiny minimalist cottage and eat Healthy Vegan Oat Gruel, while McDonalds is the emblem of American excess. It is poor people's behaviors and habits that exemplify excess and greed.

Anti-consumerism isn't going to change anything until it openly confronts the fact that poverty is traumatic and consumption patterns often arise from poverty survival mechanisms.

[isthedogawolfdog]

I just saw a reel on Instagram, which I absolutely refuse to link because I don’t want to give it more views so I attached a recording of some of the more relevant parts above, but basically this woman (who I assume was a photographer due to the cameras and such) was in the middle of the Arctic doing who knows what. She starts off the video saying something “incredible” happened, and the footage then cuts to her being surrounded by roughly 13 wild wolves. Yeah, you read that right. Due to the poor quality that is my recording, I’ll try and break down what’s happening to the best of my ability.

Throughout the video you can see that the wolves seem not quite quite laid back, but aren’t scared. The wolf closest to the camera at roughly seven seconds in is regarding them with a look that kinda says “hey, what’s this?”.* All the wolves are either walking along on their path, or taking a closer look, not necessarily circling the two individuals but definitely keeping an eye on them. This is probably due to them not seeing people at all prior to this experience. Now, I know that might sound odd, but some areas in the Arctic or places super far north in general have wolves that just haven’t seen people. There was a documentary (which I forget the name of) that covered researchers interacting with a pack who hadn’t seen people. There was also a book (Never Cry Wolf by Farley Mowat) published a while ago that dealt with a pack similarly. When described, the behavior in both the book and documentary kinda reminds me of the wolves in this video.

A quick look at the animals tells me these people aren’t in any real danger, however, should the wolves get more curious and get closer things could probably get a bit tricky. Wolves being naturally neophobic, attacks on humans from healthy wild wolves are slim to none these days. Plus, you really shouldn’t interact with wild animals no matter what they’re acting like. Preferably these people would’ve tried scaring them away the second they saw them approaching (acting aggressive, maintaining eye contact, and whatever you do, don’t run!), but instead, we had to have a Disney princess moment.

In the extremely rare chance that the wolves had seen these people as food, we would be seeing more quicker movement, heads below their shoulders**, various behaviors to test and see whether the people were fit enough for a snack, etc. though this is not the case here. So why, might you be wondering, is this bad if the wolves aren’t hunting the people and the people aren’t interacting with the wolves?

Well, you should never, never, interact with wild animals like this, which if you’ve been following my blog for a while now you probably already know. These wolves, if they so happen to see people again, now associate people with something they can get close to without them getting hurt, which works great if you want a cool selfie, but isn’t good if you are a park ranger, a worried parent, or any other person in a position of authority really, let alone if you have a gun. Historically, if a wild animal (especially a wolf!) gets too close to people, they get shot. It doesn’t matter if the animal was exhibiting dangerous behavior or not, people can’t risk it. Basically, wolf getting closer to people and realizing they can do it without problems = them trying again at a time where things are different and people think “oh no, big and wolf!” and kill it.

I’m not sure how the encounter ended, but later footage shows the wolves farther away rallying as a group, so I assume everything went okayish despite the obvious errors. TL:DR, these people are endangering these animals with their need for a cool video, don’t be a Disney princess, and stay away from wild animals even if they look friendly.

*the wolf closest to the camera has its ears kinda flat and to the side, this is called airplane ears by some biologists (yes seriously) and it is a sign of uncertainty.

**fun fact: theories vary, but some have guessed that prey animals can tell whether a wolf is hunting from whether or not their heads are below their shoulders or not! This would explain why we see videos of wolves calmly walking passed a herd of elk while they stay rested, and why other times the elk will bolt as soon as they see the predator.

[ramu-ego]

Aaaah I love sm your recent post, the idea of mommy kink juste make me go feral anyways lmao

Can you do when the guys had to be away for a while and they're just needy, how will they react ?

Thanks if you write that and pass a great day ofc <3

-🌺

(nsfw) Mommy's Home! :: x femdom!Reader

cuties away from mommy for a while just to be super needy when they come back? Yes pls! ♡ - askbox open cw: fem!Reader, dom!Reader, aged up, mommy kink, sexual themes word count: sloppy headcanons character(s): Rin Itoshi, Meguru Bachi, Nagi Seishiro, Kenyu Yukimiya

moody moody MOODY

prefers to do everything in his power to have you accompany him when he has to travel for soccer

and I mean everything to have you come with him

expect a mini meltdown if you absolutely cannot come

Rin leaves in a foul mood without you and no surprise comes back in a foul mood but...not exactly the same

he wants your attention and he wants it now

keeping his hands off you from public to private is almost out of the question and you learn quickly to be alone when you come get him

face in your tits, hands snaking up your shirt

he's ready to crawl inside your shirt the second he sees you and isn't abashed by anyone who sees bc frankly he could have played better if you were there so he'll make it everyone's problem that he misses you

cannot pull him off of you, Rin is groping, grabbing and gripping you at every angle he can

big mistake if you turn your back to help him unload

poor thing is whining nonverbal idiot with your tits in his hand rubbing himself against the seam on your ass

"Make it better. Make it better. Make it better now."

mumbling between your shoulder blades, panting, tongue out drooling like a mutt trying to mount anything that moves

pent up, needy Rin makes it as far as grabbing you from behind

clothes be damned they don't matter his cock hurts and only mommy can make it feel better

rubbing and tweaking your nipples while he humps your ass can only lead to one thing

blowing his load before you even have a chance to turn him around to kiss him

Rin's cum soaked underwear aren't the only thing needing mommy's attention after a long stint apart

Bachira's so excited to see you!!

he has so many things to tell you that you're a little afraid he's not breathing as much as he's talking

it's ok bc he is an excellent multi tasker after all

good thing as he's trying to unload all the things he had to buy you bc they reminded him of you

and since he's such a good multi tasker this striker has no qualms letting his neglected needs take over him like a monster

running his mouth a million miles a minute doesn't stop him from getting you out of your clothes

all his exciting friends he got to make and play soccer with...all while his lips are sloppily around your nipples

spit everywhere poor thing shouldn't talk with his mouth full

pet his hair and let him ramble while he slobbers all over your tits eager to see them after being away for work

multi tasking doesn't stop when he gets what he wants in his mouth though

Bachira cannot comprehend anything around his cock unless it's you

meaning he's ready to blow the second he gets to see you topless again and it's a good thing he's as quick as he is barely getting your panties down before burying himself inside you

so much cum and so much pent up sexual need

it's a good thing you're a good listener and so good at wrapping your legs around him when he gets too excited

only thing soaked will be your walls after Bachira's overjoyed to finally get to cum in mommy's velvety insides

a fitting reward for a good boy who handles himself so well when he's away on business

chances are Nagi didn't go anywhere unless you came with him truthfully

it's a pain to travel and alone at that

prodigy over here throws his skill level around just to get his way with your company but not everything works out for him every time

sometimes Nagi has to suck it up and be a big boy on trips without you

the second he comes back, he hasn't even showered and gotten back into his home clothes - he's inside you

lazily dragging his hips to actually fuck you is almost exclusive to when he's been gone away on work trips

can't stand any position besides missionary either

which you've tried during a particularly heated make out session when he got home but Nagi refused

needs to see your face, needs to feel your cunt around him and needs to drag his sweaty forehead across your chest while he mumbles incoherently into your skin

closer inspection (and when he isn't drowning out his own words with slack jawed moans) you can make out what he's saying

"I missed you, I missed you, I missed you."

all Nagi can muster are those three words if you've been apart

slamming your hips into yours, feeling the weight of his cum heavy balls slap against your ass

insistent on being as close to you as humanly possible

pls knot your fingers in his hair and pull him against your chest bc jet lag is a bitch for this poor thing

Nagi suddenly can think for himself sometimes if it's been even a long weekend away from mommy

so so so stressed when he gets back

Kenyu much rather travel with you so he's not overthinking exactly every detail on his trip and can focus on his playing

work is work and he wants this but he wants this with you

he's somehow more of a mess when he gets back?

poor thing needs help unwinding and his poor tired eyes don't even know where to start when he sees you

sex and sensual go hand in hand with him it's like breathing and soccer

other words...reuniting is a special thing for the two of you

lovely meal together, talking and showing you everything he got for you as well as pictures he insists on taking and of course taking a bath together

all things that Kenyu revels in when you're together again

some reason though he's always hesitant to initiate anything...worrying he's being too needy

a day or a week apart he always thinks like that after a trip

that's why you're here to help him unwind in just the right way

Kenyu is is extremely sensitive swearing only mommy knows how to touch him right...and he's certainly not wrong

at his most vulnerable when he misses you is also when it's the most fun to ride him

swipe his hair off his forehead, be as close as you can so the details of your face are vivid to him and feel the poor thing melt as you tighten around him

remind him why he just can't seem to get the job done alone with your cunt drooling around his cock and milking him for all he's worth

Kenyu has a work trip worth of neediness and cum inside him with only you being the one he wants to draw it all out of him

[strniohoeee]

Desolation

Pairings: Nick Sturniolo X Female Reader, friendship🥰includes Chris and Matt as well😋

Synopsis: After Y/N has a messy breakup with her boyfriend. Nick and his brothers are always there for her ready to kill for her🥹

Warnings⚠️: mentions of heartbreak, slight mention of abuse, but nothing crazy. The three boys ready to kill for Y/N. It’s just so cutesyyy and a little sad nothing crazy

Song for this imagine: The Worst by Jhené Aiko

And don’t take this personal, but you’re the worst, you know what you’ve done to me

I had been dating my current boyfriend since I was 17, and I’m 21 now, but lately we’ve been rocky, and not well for one another. Last year we were constantly on and off, something that pissed Nick off so much.

Flashback

“I’m not even sure what you see in him like he’s so fucking toxic, and literally hates us because we’re your guy friends” Nick would tell me in a fit of frustration as I would run into his arms crying over him breaking up with me.

“I know Nick, but I love him so much it hurts when he keeps playing this cat mouse game of wanting me then pushing me away” I would say wiping my tears

“He’s hurting you so fucking much you’re always sad, crying, never eating and your smile doesn’t shine the same anymore” Nick would tell me hugging me as I weeped

“God you’re right. I need to leave him, or figure this out” I would say

“I vote to leave him” Matt chimed in as he walked into the kitchen. I looked up and gave him a weak smile

“Like J Cole said you’re killing yourself to find a man that’ll kill for you” Chris added trying to lighten the mood

“Ew Chris shut the fuck up that was so embarrassing” Nick said giving him a dirty look

“Yeah that was really fucking gross” Matt said laughing at him

“Even though that was cringe I appreciate you trying to make me laugh” I told him as I laughed wiping my tears

Flashback over

That never would happen though. We would break up, I’d cry and say I’m leaving him, and then two days later we were back together like nothing happened. A pattern I know was pissing the triplets off, but he was my first everything I couldn’t leave him.

We were really good for three months, and then all of a sudden our issues came back. Constantly fighting, yelling, anxiety and trust issues came rushing back in.

I was so tired of having to tiptoe around him, scared that it would cause another crazy fight. He stopped coming over to the triplets house because Nick banned him after we got into yet another screaming match and he embarrassed me in front of them. Even after that I still stood with him like an absolute idiot, but man love will make you do crazy things.

I hadn’t seen my boyfriend for a few days, and I wanted to surprise him by taking him on a cute picnic at the park. It was what we did for our first date, so I thought this might make him reminisce and change how he was treating me. When we had good moments they were really great, and when they were bad they were really fucking bad. But I really wanted this date to help us fix our issues.

I had Ubered to the park because even though he agreed to the date he said he couldn’t pick me up. Which was weird, but I figured he was still mad at me over our argument.

The whole date he was being super dry and barely laughing at my usual jokes. He was constantly checking his phone, and when he was done answering his messages he would place his phone screen side down. Which was not his usual behavior, and this was giving me major anxiety, and I was starting to worry that he might be cheating on me.

“Why do you keep looking at your phone” I asked him eating a strawberry

“Can’t I look at my phone?” He said giving me a dirty look

“I mean you can, but I did this date for you, and you haven’t looked at me once, nor laughed at my jokes” I told him still looking at him

“No one told you to do this” he said nonchalantly

“What the fuck is really going on right now? Like I’m trying to fix our problems, and you’re being such a fucking dick” I told him starting to pack the food away

“There’s nothing wrong with our relationship, you just don’t know how to act, and you piss me off, so I get upset” he said looking down at his phone again

“Wow! You start about 85% of our arguments” I said laughing, hoping he was just joking with me, but to no surprise he’s still looking down at his phone texting someone

“I wouldn’t start them if you weren’t so fucking annoying” he said looking at me with a smug face

“You’re such a dick. I'M TRYING TO BE NICE” I told him getting a little loud, and he just ignores me looking down at his phone again

“Holy shit who the fuck are you texting” I said as i grabbed his phone, and looked down at the screen

Shelly💗👩🏼‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏻

I miss you so much when are you coming back?

Soon baby I’m just waiting for my homeboy to finish, so i can bring him home

My heart dropped to my stomach, and immediately I felt like throwing up reading these messages of him cheating on me. As tears welled in my eyes I looked up at him, and he seemed annoyed??

“What the fuck is this?” I said keeping my composure as my tears fell non stop

“Can’t you just mind your fucking business” he said snatching his phone away

“Mind my fucking business? I’m here trying to fix what we’ve had for four years, and you’re texting some other girl? And not only that but you’re lying to her! At least be a man and fucking own up to it. At least fucking break up with me, so you can be with her” I told him packing my purse up so I could leave

“Yeah I was planning and breaking up with you” he said still so calmly

“Yeah? And when were you going to do this? Whenever you want? Leave me stringing onto you, and having this false hope that we could actually work out” I told him as I wiped my tears.

“I was going to do it today” he said looking down

“Yeah sure you were. You’re such a fucking asshole” I said

“See! This is why I’m over you. You’re so fucking boring the same person since we were 17. You bring nothing good to me. I prayed day in and day out that you’d just leave me alone. Can’t you see my anger towards you I don’t love you anymore, and I haven’t loved you since we were 18” he said to me

“SO THEN WHY THE FUCK WOULD YOU KEEP ME STRINGING ALONG FOR SO MANY YEARS” I yelled at him not caring if someone looked over at us

“Calm down” he said looking me dead in my eyes

“Fuck you, don’t tell me to calm down you piece of shit” I told him standing up getting ready to walk away

“Yeah well fuck you too run away just like you always do” he said also standing up

“We’re done. Don’t ever call me. Don’t ever come looking for me. I fucking hate you” I said wiping my tears

“I’m good off you. You don’t come looking for me because I know you can’t live without me” he said laughing in my face

I picked up some fruits and threw them at him, but before I could stomp away he grabbed his cup of wine and threw it at me. Splashing my face and all down my white shirt. I just looked at him as my face dropped, I threw some fruits, and I get a half of a cup of wine thrown at me completely destroying my makeup and my white shirt

“Go run away you whore” he said as he threw the cup in my direction

“Fuck you” was all I could say. I walked past him and brush past him, and as I did that he grabbed my arm harshly and shoved me away from him. Causing me to loose my balance, but not enough to throw me down

I just looked back at him. Truly trying to comprehend that he just put his hands on me. Tears just ran down my face as I stormed off

I ordered an Uber and texted Nick

-hey can I come over?

-of courseeee we’re actually so bored just watching a movie in the living room, and we miss you 😚

I hearted the message, and as I locked my phone the Uber pulled up. I gave her the address and she drove me there. Every so often taking glances at me, but seeing I didn’t want to talk as I had my eyes closed trying to control myself from having a breakdown

After a 20 minute drive I was at the triplets house. I hopped out and took my phone out of my back pocket. Nick had texted me he left the door unlocked for me, so I went to the front door, opening it, and then locking it.

I walked up the stairs and when I turned into the living room Nick practically jumped off the couch

“What the actual fuck Y/N” he said standing up. I looked at him and started sobbing

“He fucking cheated on me” I said as Nick grabbed me and took me to sit on the couch with them

“HE DID WHAT?” Chris said also sitting up

“He…he was cheating on me, and we broke up. He told me I was fucking boring and he hasn’t loved me since we were 18, and that all I do is run away from my problems, and I’m a whore” I said ugly sobbing into Nicks arms

“I got so fucking pissed at him I threw some fruits at him, and then he threw his cup of wine all over me” I said looking down at my soaked shirt

“What a fucking dick. I’ll fucking kill him I fucking swear” Matt said starting to stand up in anger

“The whole date he was on his phone and wouldn’t let me see, and he told me he’s been planning to break up with me, and that he didn’t care about the date because it wouldn’t fix anything. I should’ve known because he didn’t even pick me up for the date” I said as I started to slow down my crying

“He didn’t pick you up?, Y/N why the fuck would you even waste your time trying to go on a date” Nick said rubbing my back

“Because I loved him. I wanted us to work out so badly he was my everything” I said looking at Nick

“You shouldn’t have to beg for someone’s love” Chris said looking at me with a weak smile

“I know, but I hoped he would see why he fell in love with me” I said, wiping my eyes. Nicks eyes traveled to my arms, and suddenly he grabs my arm and looks shocked and saddened

“What the fuck is this?” He said, looking at my arm. I looked down and saw fingerprints bruising my skin from where he grabbed me harshly

“He fucking grabbed me and shoved me when I went to walk past him” I said looking down

“He fucking put his hands on you” they all said in unison, and to this I nodded my head

“Y/N I will fucking beat his ass. I’ll knock him out and send him to the fucking hospital” Nick said standing up in anger

“He’s done stuff like this before! Whenever we would argue he would grab me and shove me sometimes to the ground and other times just a small shove” I said looking up at them

“Y/N, I’m going to fucking find him. I’m going. I’m going to bash his fucking teeth in” Chris said looking for his keys

“Guys no please calm down. I’m done I really need you guys here with me” I said looking at them again

“No man should ever put his hands on a woman especially a woman he loves” Matt said

“Well he doesn’t love me” I said

“Doesn’t matter” Nick said

“I know. I appreciate you guys so much. I love you guys, and I’m so sorry I didn’t leave him sooner. I’m so fucking sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. We love you so much, and we’ll do everything to get you to forget about him and feel better” Nick said

“Thank you guys” I said giving them a smile

“Would a kiss help” Matt asked giving puppy eyes

I laughed and shook my head yes. They all came in giving me a big group hug and kissing me on the cheek

“Go shower kid, so we can watch a movie and forget about that small dick loser” Nick said giving me one last tight hug

“Small dick loser is right” I said getting up, and we all laughed at that

I showered and changed into a pair of Nick's pajama pants and shirt. We all sat on the couch and decided to watch a comedy movie while eating some snacks. Occasionally they would throw in extra commentary to make me laugh.

“I love you guys so so much. You have no idea how much yall mean to me” I said looking at them

“We fucking love you too” Nick said giving me one big hug

“You’re gonna find a man that’ll kill for you” Chris said laughing

“Chris enough with that corny joke” I said laughing

“There goes that smileeeeee” he said teasing me

We ended the night just joking and watching movies till we all eventually fell asleep in Nicks room.

I loved these kids so much<3

The End🥰

I loved writing this! Can’t wait to write some more, and if you have any recommendations on what you’d want to see next lmk in the comments🫶🏽 thankssss

-J💅🏽

[pedgito]

Enjolras grabbing you and holding you up against a wall for a quick fuck super dirty just shoving clothes aside panting into your neck

author’s note: i realize writing for enjolras can be a tricky but to anyone seeing this and not agreeing with the way i wrote it, don’t bother me, because frankly i don’t care lol. anyways, that being said, to those of you that do read this, i hope you enjoy!

cw: 18+ (minors dni), bbc!enjolras, fem!reader, canon divergence, unprotected sex, semi-public but clothed, mentions of drinking, this was literally just a reason to write for enjolras to see how people liked it/how i would enjoy writing him, so if it flops, this didn’t happen. if i missed anything lmk!

word count: 2.6k

You’d wasted nearly a month of your time infiltrating their rebellion under your father’s order—and it had been going well, not a single hendrence in your plans until a very unfortunate night, on the precipice of courageous attack being led by Enjolras himself, speaking out in a boastful manner to his people at these sacred meetings—it gave many hope that things could change, that they had a fighting chance. In your eyes, it was all lies. You came from the other side, experienced how they lived, the power they had—it was a battle he was going to lose regardless of how passionate he was for it. He was outnumbered, easy to outsmart, and despite his passion for the cause, he was blinded by it.

You felt sympathy, it was why you were able to fit yourself in so easily, so well—he never questioned your intentions for a second, swearing by the look of determination in your eye, your willingness to throw out ideas, boost the morale—but if there was one thing about him, it was that he knew just the right things to say, even to the people who didn’t believe it. He was great at convincing people to believe lies, acting like he had the answer to everything and everyone’s problems.

It would be easier if there wasn’t a war at all, but it seemed like the only way to solve issues now, fight first and solve things later.

The first night you end up alone with him isn’t intentional. It’s a late night at the bar, your tired figure nestled up in a chair in a dark corner of the room, Enjolras nursing his drink from the other end, watching as his friends parted ways. You had a bed to sleep in, a lavish home to keep you safe, but you wanted nothing more than to be away from that, if even for just a moment.

Enjolras tells you of his background, how he grew up, why he cared about the things that he did—and it made you realize that under all his anger and crazed acts, he was a lot like you. If not, he was more sure of himself than you. You were lost, fighting between right and wrong and only doing what your father had ordered, but you could feel it in your bones—this wasn’t right.

They had every reason to fight against the more fortunate; the richer, arrogant, mindless people running the show—they were all just as horrible as everyone assumed and you’d seen it firsthand.

Your backstory is simple—you came from nothing, were nothing, and you were tired of living that way. You’ve practiced it for weeks, making it all seem as believable as possible. He believes it, at least, he acts like he does.

From that point on, and the weeks follow, Enjolras turns to you every night, both of you staying later than necessary to talk about the day and complain about nonsense, sometimes sitting in the silence, listening to the other conversations in the establishment, watching as Enjolras separated the food on his plate, sharing with you.

You never went hungry, not when you were being served several course meals most nights, but you played along anyways.

Enjolras is dedicated to the cause with an obscured ambition and it feels like maybe you won’t be able to break-through to him, relying on the fact that maybe you could seduce him enough to have him slip-up, even the smallest tidbit of information.

Your father was growing angry, more and more upset that you were coming home empty-handed.

Until another night leads to several drinks, Enjolras leaning over you as he grabbed for the liquor, a sated smile pasted over his face. He didn’t smile often, not genuinely, but it was mesmerizing nonetheless.

“Darling, you’re going to clean this place out, you know?” He comments, voice thick as he swallowed the bitter alcohol.

“Must you insult me like that?” You tease, “I am a lady, after all.”

Enjolras gives you a look, one that’s calling your bluff outright.

“I am,” You squeak, shoving him away playfully, “Shall I prove it?”

Enjolras tilts his head slightly, considering it.

“I’m not being serious.” You tell him before he can answer.

“Yes, darling. I’m aware.” He tells you, “It does not make the idea any less intriguing though, I must admit.”

You snort softly, grabbing at your peacoat and shrugging it over your shoulders, “I think you’re at your limits, Enjolras.”

He peers at the bottle, holding it up to shine under the light, only enough for a small sip left in the bottle. He still seemed as sturdy as a rock, just more relaxed, less worrisome.

“I think you are right.” He agrees with a giddy laugh, pressing the bottle back against the table, the uneven weight of it causing the glass to rock, rattling to a stop. “Leaving already?”

“Yes, unfortunately.” You tell him, rising from your seat. It doesn’t take him more than a second to grab your hand, fingers pressed gently against your ring and middle, an unthought attempt to stop you. “Are you going to be alright?”

“Tomorrow.” He tells you simply, eyes unnerving as he glances toward the floor, around the room, before landing back on you.

“Where?” You inquire, knowing full well what he meant.

“Outside the wine shop, if things go south.”

It was the piece of information you so desperately needed, giving the other side even more of a fighting chance—your face fell slightly, nodding in response as you shrugged your hand away.

“Sleep well, Enjolras.” You tell him before fleeing without another word, disregarding the few goodbyes you receive, feet carrying you faster than you can manage yourself, stumbling over your feet as you round the corner outside the bar, disappearing down a dark alley.

You take a long breath, body relaxed as you feel the weight drift from your chest, removing the coat you had shrugged on as you felt hot, overheated, throwing it to the ground angrily.

“Running home to daddy, I assume?” His voice travels like an echo down the long, dark alley.

Your hand clutches over your chest, heart feeling like it’s going to burst. You muffle the scream with your other hand, staring at the dark figure as it approaches—his face was cold, eerily void of emotion.

“Enjolras, please.” You beg, knowing there was no using in lying. If he knew, he’d known for a while.

He huffs a vindicte laugh, pulling uncomfortably at the right ascot around his neck. “Is that where you go every night?”

“Enjolras, you do not understand.” You ignore his question, trying to level with him.

“I believe I do, darling.” He responds tensely, “How would he feel knowing you’ve been fraternizing so closely with the enemy? I thought it was all business with you monarchy people.”

“Wouldn’t you know?” You retort, “You are no different—only because you’re fighting against them you think that makes you better? You come from the same life that I do, do not try and belittle me.”

“So that, back there, that was only an act?”

The flirting, he means. You’d never considered he cared, giving his unwavering attention to his own cause, you didn’t think he cared that much. But clearly, you were wrong.

“Isn’t all of it?” You retort.

“You tell me, darling.” Enjolras challenges, taking a brave step forward, forcing you to stumble back against the wall. “Are you really going to allow all of these lives to be lost? Are you going to run back home and tell him everything?”

You shove him away weakly, eyes glaring harshly.

“It is no business of yours, Enjolras.” You tell him firmly, “Give this up, come fight with us—you’re on the side that has no chance, you do realize?”

“Are you trying to convince me?” He asks, “My love, you must try harder.”

“You’re infuriating.” You complain, “Your voice, your attitude—I'd rather hinder my hearing if that meant not having to listen to your voice again.”

It’s not the route he’s expecting you to take, but two can play at that game. The frustration was building, boiling over, and he could see it in the way your body canted toward him inconspicuously, despite your vile words.

His touch ghosts over your hip, pulling at the shirt tucked loosely in your britches, squeezing at the soft skin.

“Likewise.” He agrees, watching as you rested your hand against the him of his trousers, traveling up his dirtied shirt, over his vest, pulling at the ascot until it came loose. “Now, let us see if I can change your mind, yes?”

Enjolras gently yanks the red material of his ascot from your hands, taking his time as he wraps it around your head, knot settling between your teeth as you bite down, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“Not a word,” He warns, “Understood?”

You roll your eyes in annoyance, letting him shift you until your front is pressed against the brick wall, his hands sifting through the layers of clothing shared between you both until he’s free enough that he can fist his cock, the hard ridge of it pressed against the curve of your ass, his hands squeezing soft at the flesh of your thigh, traveling up enough to tap against the innermost flesh, motioning for you to spread your legs slightly.

His calloused fingers drag over your folds, finding their way to the center and covering his fingers in your slick, moan muffled around the soft fabric shoved into your mouth.

“They’re probably worried sick,” Enjolras comments, “wondering where you are, if you’re hurt—if they only knew.”

You make a noise of defiance, pressing back against his fingers, the pad of his middle nudging against your clit, eyes squeezed shut in response.

You’ve been deprived of touch for so long that this felt needed, wanted—and even the smallest touch had your eyes rolling back, keening against him. He gives no warning when he slips inside, though his movements are slow. He’s responding to your noises, the soft clenches of your walls around the tip of his cock as he moves in small thrusts, groans muffled behind his clenched teeth.

“Women like you don’t deserve to be bed properly,” He comments harshly, “are they attempting to marry you off already?”

You shake your head furiously, allowing him to grasp your hands behind your back, shoving your body gingerly against the harsh texture of the wall—it’s a stark contrast to the way he’s consuming you, but you don’t question it.

“I figured as much,” He comments lowly, lips pressed against the shell of your ear, panting harshly as he increases his speed, the ferocity of it, a startling gasp slipping from your lips, failing to be muffled by the fabric. Enjolras’s hand cups over your mouth, “Quiet,” He orders harshly, “do you not listen?”

Again, you shake your head. If you did, you would’ve never ended up in this situation. Enjolras leans back slightly, loose grip on your hands as he pulls out slowly, thrusting into you harshly, watching as his cock disappeared inside of you, squeezing at the soft globes of your ass.

“You drive me mad in the worst ways,” Enjolras admits, “but you are divine, you know?”

You make a noise, drawing his attention up. He sighs, pulling the fabric from your mouth, pressing a single finger against your lips to warn you of your volume.

“How so?” You ask quietly, teasingly, hoping it gets under his skin.

“You fit me perfectly,” He acknowledges, “such a shame you were ready to betray me so easily.”

“I had you fooled,” You chide, confidence seeping through, “for a while, at least.”

Enjolras releases your hands, his own palms spreading over the expanse of your back, forcing the shirt up higher as he grips your hips, pulling you tight against him. Your palms slapped against the wall, held there for support.

“I could teach you things,” He tells you softly, “things you haven’t even come to understand—I’d make you realize which side you should be fighting for, you’d never want to leave.”

“So, you’re not hoping for your—your cock to do the job?” You stammer out, whining softly with each movement of his hips. “I thought that was the point of all this?”

“Partly.”

“I’m not dull, Enjolras. I have higher education, I know—why do you think I agreed with my father so—so easily,” It’s redundant, he doesn’t answer, “I hate their stance just as much as you, but they are my family. I cannot abandon them.”

“A shame,” He seethes, reaching around your front to palm roughly at your breasts, pulling you back against him, other hand slipping over your cunt, circling your clit furiously, “—at least I have this to remember you by.”

You’ve never been with anyone like this—it’s usually slow, sensual, sweet. This was nothing but anger and frustration, hatred for the same cause, but fighting on two different sides. It was a battle, deep rooted in confusion.

“Knowing you may die tomorrow?” You ask tensely, stalling his movements slightly. “This is how you wanted to spend your final night? If it must be?”

“I liked you better quiet.” He spits at you.

You laugh brokenly, the harsh pass over your clit sending you over the edge, cunt clenching around him as buries himself deep inside, coming with little warning as he attempts to pull out, but held still by the hand forcing him there, buried into his shirt as you both ride out the high of your orgasms, moaning into the silence of the night, both of you barely visible at this hour from the lack of a full moon. His mouth rests against the back of your neck, nose buried into the back of your hair, most of it piled up messily atop your head.

“You’re at risk of dying, too—if not more than me. These people, they’re passionate. If they find out—“

“Will they?” You ask quietly, hearing the faint rustle of his pants as he pulls out of you.

You turn, connecting eyes with him. He seems hesitant to answer.

“Oh, darling—don’t be coy now. You come inside of me, threatening me with the burdance of bearing your child if fate has it that way, and now you can’t even look my way?”

“That’s not—“ He begins, shaking his head.

“You men are all the same.” You tell him harshly, “Just because what you think you’re doing is right, it doesn’t make you a good person.”

“My love—“ He begins.

“Calling me that doesn’t make it so,” You retort, “you hated me just a few moments ago, am I wrong?”

“I’ve never met anyone like you.” He admits, “Not before, not during the rebellion.”

You smile tightly, adjusting your clothes back to their original place, reaching down to fetch your coat.

“How sweet,” You tell him, patting his chest, “I guess we shall see how tomorrow goes, that should determine where this takes us.”

But unfortunately, you had a sneaking suspicion that none of this would end well, for either of you.

“Stay,” He tells you, “for a few more hours, that’s all I ask.”

You’re hesitant, every morsel of your being telling you otherwise. You ignore it, allowing yourself to enjoy what may be your last night.

“Another bottle and you have a deal, Enjolras.” You barter, watching the grin grow on his face—because despite how much he wanted to hate you, he wasn’t sure he could. Given the time he had gotten to know you, learn about you, he had to believe there was a part of you that would do the right thing,

Although, it was much too late for that.

“After you, darling.”

Please consider a reblog if you enjoyed this fic! It’s makes a huge difference. ♡

[i-like-turkey]

I announced on Twitter that I was taking a step back from social media and fandom to deal with a personal matter. That’s still true. I just need to barf some feelings into the universe. I’m putting them under a cut. This is NOT an easy read and I’m NOT holding back details. Don’t feel compelled or obligated to share my pain. TW: Pet death & grief.

I said goodbye to my little girl on Thursday. She’s been my world since I took her home at the end of July 2012. It was both sudden and not sudden. So I’m in shock, but I’m also not really surprised. There were signs that something bad was looming and I had this gut feeling as early as January that this wasn’t gonna be a good year for us.

This likely all started a long time ago. I took her to the vet in August of 2022 right before we moved east. The vet told me that her heart didn’t sound 100%, but it wasn’t something that needed immediate intervention. She had a little murmur that could indicate heart disease and if it got worse, then I’d need to get her to a specialist to take pictures and then we’d likely get her on some medicine to deal with whatever the problem was.

So I heeded the advice to take a wait and see approach. My baby was acting fine. She made it across the country well. She had energy and life. Not quite her puppy energy, but she was 10, so that was normal. I took her to the vet again this last August and I heard the same thing. She has a murmur. It’s not quite bad enough to get images. If it gets worse, we’ll refer you to a specialist. Ok. Great.

We keep living our life. She still has energy. Lunging at cars and barking at other dogs and trying to get endless pets from all of the strangers we’d encounter while walking in our neighborhood and riding our building’s elevators. I can’t tell y’all how many people would ask how old she was and be surprised when I told them 11.

So we get to January and she’s coughing a bit more than she usually does. Background: for the last few years of her life, she’d occasionally have coughing fits when she got super excited about something or barked too hard at a car. Worrying. But something I’d disclosed to all of the vets we’d seen and they didn’t seem perturbed by it. But now the coughing was every few days instead of a couple times a month or three days of coughing followed by months without a single damn cough.

It got really bad mid January. I took her into the vet. The same one who’d listened to her heart in August. He listened again. Nothing out of the ordinary. She didn’t have fluid in her lungs. Her energy was fine. He sent me home with antibiotics and a cough suppressant and told me to come back if she didn’t improve after a few days of treatment. She improved. Not right away. There were scary times where her breathing was all labored, but after a few days of the meds, she was doing better, and by the end she seemed fine.

And then we get to last Sunday and I hear a cough and that wasn’t good. And then Monday she’s coughing a bit more and I’m getting nervous. I talk to my parents and we agree to not do anything yet because illnesses can linger and her energy was fine. My mom came over that night and we were standing by the laundry closet doors and my pup pulled a toy out of her toy basket and was just running all over the living room with it. She was shaking her head and growling and having an absolute blast flinging that thing everywhere for the entire lengthy time my mom and I were chatting. She didn’t look sick. She looked like a puppy with lots of gray hair.

Then my mom leaves and we sit on the couch and she rolls over for belly rubs and immediately has to roll back over to cough. Then she cuddles up to me and we sit there and watch TV and I pet her and then I take her out and we go through our nighttime routine. She seemed fine.

Tuesday was a good day. She had energy. We played a bit with one of her favorite toys. We had some good cuddles. I only heard a few coughs.

Wednesday morning she seemed ok energy wise. She coughed when she rolled over for belly rubs right after I got home from my morning walk (solo cause it’s long & hilly. She also got one every morning). I didn’t notice anything abnormal during the day. Then we go out for our evening walk and she’s sluggish. That also wasn’t abnormal cause her energy had been fading for the last few years. Sometimes she’d race through our walks. Sometimes she liked to take a leisurely pace. I never worried cause if a car zoomed past she’d lunge and bark and if she saw a dog, she’d lose her mind. But we passed a couple dogs that night and nothing. That had me on edge. But then we get inside and I put on her favorite TV show, Person of Interest, and she was barking up a storm at Bear and seemed fine. I take that as a positive sign and relax a little.

I make dinner. We go to the couch for nightly cuddles. She rolls over for belly rubs. Starts coughing immediately. I pet her through it. Then she cuddles into my side and coughs a couple more times as we sit there. I put her to bed at her usual bedtime. I hear her coughing a few times as I’m struggling to fall asleep. Then I wake up Thursday and she’s in bad shape. I don’t wanna describe it cause it’s too fucking tough to type and traumatic. But I get us scheduled with the nearby vet asap* and I keep an eye on my girl and her scary symptoms. The symptoms subside a bit. Then my mom comes over to help keep me calm as we wait for our appointment time. My baby perks up when she hears my mom knock. She runs from the couch to the door. She’s wagging her tail and barking and jumping on my mom. She goes and chugs half her bowl of water. We sit there with her for over an hour petting her as we talk. She’s breathing ok. Her tail is between her legs, so that’s a sign something isn’t right. But she’s getting all the love from us and seemed happy.

Then we leave. She pees and poops on the way (I didn’t take her out first thing that morning cause part of the scary badness that I’m skipping is that she peed inside). The vet comes in and listens to her. I show a video I took of her that morning. The vet’s reaction said it all. She snapped into action. Took my baby out of the room for x-rays. As that was happening we were going over pricing options with a tech and then shit kinda really hit the fan cause the x-rays were bad. No specialty review necessary. She had fluid around her heart. So we start talking about transporting her to a specialist. They bring my girl back in. The tech just kinda drops the leash and steps away as soon as my girl is through the door. She starts racing directly to me and she collapses. My mom runs for help. They take her away again. The vet ends up doing the procedure she would have sent us elsewhere to do. Basically draining the fluid. It’s blood. They get her stable and hooked up on oxygen and give me the option of trying to get her to the animal hospital for further intervention. But the vet was clear that she’d probably die on the way and it was VERY clear at that point that she wasn’t gonna get better from this. It was a heart tumor. Something had ruptured and started bleeding. There was no fix. So I made the call to let her go. We got my dad and my brother on the line and told them to get their asses over to us. We stood there petting my baby as we waited. Then we said goodbye.

*In hindsight I maybe should have gotten her in the car and driven her to an emergency hospital. But the closest one ISN’T close. And that wouldn’t have changed the outcome. She hated the car enough that she would pant during two minute drives. 40 minutes (assuming relatively light rush hour traffic which is probably a bad assumption so more like 60 min) of that while she was already in breathing distress might have killed her. But assuming we made it, they could have intervened and maybe bought her a day or two. But this wasn’t something she was gonna get better from. That extra time would have been full of pain. So I made the right call. She got more loves from me and my mom at home and got to pass peacefully nearby while she was surrounded by everyone who loved her.

So I’m devastated and completely out of my mind at the moment. I don’t know what’s up or down. I’m keeping myself occupied between sobbing fits by going through all the pictures I’ve taken over the years. It’s a pain in the ass because my storage habits are terrible and my screenshotting habits are worse so I have hundreds of thousands of images scattered everywhere and now I have to dig through them to find my girl.

Here are some painful lessons I’ve learned from this:

Don’t store 77k images in a single folder on an external hard drive. You won’t be able to copy them all over to the iCloud at a single time unless you have a fuckton of available disk space on your Mac. And trying to scroll through the images will push your computer dangerously close to the limits (I really need a new machine 😬)

Don’t rely too heavily on Snapchat to takes pics. It’s fun in the moment, but 5-6 years later you’re gonna cringe & regret that all your cute dogs pics from that era are plastered over with weird graphics. A Happy Mother’s Day pic with my dog on the couch behind me, hearts all above us, and a damn Wookie filter plastered over my face? jfc 🤦🏼‍♀️

Do give yourself a refresher on how Snapchat works lest you go through and favorite a bunch of memories, see a pop up flash about them getting added to a story, and then have a full on panic attack in front of your parents about how you might have accidentally shared semi-naked pics of yourself with the few people that still follow you 😅 (Yes, I’ve been been known to take and share some risqué pics. Yes, I wanted to download them before deleting them. I might be grieving, but I can still see a pic of my 2018 back muscles and think “Damn!” 🫣🤣)

Don’t be so lax and sloppy about your picture storage habits that you’re forced to keyword search your text messages for pictures cause it’s a good way to find out just how many women you’ve texted dog pics to throughout the years 🥴 She was a great wing woman, but she also loved to clam jam me cause she thought she was the one who should be getting kisses when I’d sit on my couch with a woman 😂

Do find a balance between taking pictures of every damn thing and living in the moment. I stopped taking lots of pics since my east coast move cause I wanted to get away from my compulsive snapping. Now I regret not taking at least one daily shot of her sleeping on the couch.

Do have other people take pictures of you and your dog. So far I’ve only found two different occasions on which someone else took a picture of me and my baby together. All other pics of us are terrible selfies or feature just my hand/arm/legs. I have memories of all those moments that I spent with her, but it hurts to not have a father away perspective on them. Part of this is my fault for living thousands of miles from my family, being fairly closed off to human connections aside from shallow hookups and activity buddies, and viewing my home as a sacred domain accessible to people only if there wasn’t another option for where we could hang out.

Thank you anyone who has made it this far. Please go hug your pets and tell them that you love them. If you would like to leave me a note, that’s very welcome. I don’t have the energy to engage, so it’s unlikely I will respond until the day my energy returns. Idk when that will be. Right now I’m still in the sobbing hysterically as I process my new reality phase. I need to get through that before I’ll be ready to start communicating normally. I’m hopeful that I’ll only need a week or two in this phase. But who knows. Grief is hard to predict. All I can do now is stay patient and work through it.

[mintacle]

also Jason Todd for survivors of abusive systems </3. I lived in a country under dictatorship that we ended up having to flee from (self exile or refuges, you decide) after they took my father from me.

Jason is someone who acts against the system and rules ,for the people the system pretends to be about, but is actually against. He is a protector, when we were kids and used to hear about things the resistance did, and we would absolutely myth-ify those people to something super human. They sounded exactly like red hood.

That's why it annoys me when people claim that he isn't better than a cop or his fans are pro death penalty. No he is so personal, he is a revenge fantasy, he is a savior fantasy, he is so much things.

Absolutely anon. One thing I love about Jason is that you can take Bruce as a father figure, or Bruce (+ larger vigilante system) as a justice+enforcement system. Jason stands out as a resistence to the status quo, questioning the values of the powers that be and following his own sense of justice.

His focus on harms done and prevention + effective relief make him stand out. It's not just about rescuing a citizen in their moment of need, it's about taking out the persistent threats to well-being and calling out the hypocrisies of the other self-appointed protectors.

Even without Bruce he is a victim of institutional negligence and oppression, having been left on the streets to fend for himself as a child and run away from a foster system not built to serve him but to keep him from becoming a "problem". And the power fantasy of someone who has been repeatedly in life victimized by those in higher power, to come back still with the strength to help those whose positions he is familiar with, that is applicable to any kind of abusive system.

To me Jason Todd is a hero without the anti-(hero), because I see the story from his narrative viewpoint. I see the Robin Hood hero of the people in him. Him being perceived as a threat to "true justice" by other vigilante characters feels fitting to me, because that's how the resistance is treated irl. Just that maybe Batman's justice isn't as true as he likes to believe it is. And Jason is right to call him out for his inadequacy and how he failed to live up to what the Batman was supposed to be, when he started his crusade of justice.

[triscribeaucollection]

Can’t Breathe In

(SO. What if, way back during Infinity War, the group on Titan fighting Thanos managed to get the gauntlet away from him? Say, for example, Peter yoinks just a tad harder at the right moment, pulling it and the four already-retrieved Stones off. There’s still the problem of keeping them away from the purple bastard, so Strange opens up a portal back to Earth, tosses the kid, the gauntlet, and the Eye of Agamotto through for good measure, before he and Tony and the Guardians do their level best to put Thanos down for good.

One thing leads to another, all roads converge in Wakanda, and there ends up being a knock-down drag-out free-for-all fight between the present Avengers and the remaining Children of Thanos for six Infinity Stones in one room (Shuri having just enough time to cut Vision free of the Mind Stone before shit hits the fan).

Stuff is exploding, containers are breaking, half a dozen all-powerful artifacts tied to the foundations of Existence are flying through the air, and a certain Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Doofus manages to grab two at once.

Things get... interesting, after that.)

---

Peter is so screwed.

Even if he survives, even if he manages to change enough things to save the day for everybody else, he is so screwed, because he did the one thing Doctor Strange explicitly said not to and at this point it’s definitely going to kill him.

Just. Slowly. Because that’s Parker Luck for you.

Panting through the pain, Peter manages to finish scrawling out the last of his future-notes, doubled up at the very bottom of the page. Then he promptly drops the pencil and grasps at his head, whining faintly.

Some of it’s definitely a residual after-effect of accidentally grabbing two Infinity Stones at once and super accidentally activating them. The rest is a miserable combination of adjusting to no longer having his powers, adjusting to once again having asthma, and of course the bout of bronchitis his thirteen year old body happened to be dealing with when Peter’s sixteen year old mind got dropped into it.

Zero out of five stars, do not recommend.

A hand knocks on his bedroom door, and Peter barely bites back an instinctive whimper. “Y-yeah?”

“You okay in there, kiddo?”

And there’s the other thing. Ben is still alive.

Ben is alive, May isn’t a widow, and Peter really needs to make sure they both stay that way.

But he also needs to warn Mister Stark about everything that’s coming.

“I- I guess,” Peter says miserably, and it’s enough to make his uncle open the door and step inside. The kid’s heart stutters just at the sight of him: familiar concerned expression, rumpled well-worn clothes, brown hair that’s only just started to turn gray around the ears.

“Well, you must be feeling a little better, at least,” Ben mutters, glancing between Peter at his desk and the abandoned bed. “I’m ducking out to run a couple errands, kiddo, shouldn’t be gone too long. Want anything?”

He takes as deep a breath as he can manage at the moment. “Actually- yeah. Could you drop off a letter for me?”

Ben raises an eyebrow, mouth quirking up a little at one corner. “A letter?”

“Mmhm.” Peter reorganizes his papers real quick, then folds the four sheets in half before taping them closed. On top goes a post-it note, and one final scribble: for FRIDAY or Happy Hogan, please.

...after a moment’s consideration, ‘please’ gets underlined an extra time.

Ben’s second eyebrow has risen as well by the time Peter turns back, holding out the makeshift envelope. “Where am I taking this, kiddo?”

“Manhattan. Stark Tower.” He can see the startled blink, and hurries to go on, “It’s really important, Ben, please. If I could take it my- myself-” His lungs choose that moment to induce a coughing fit, and Peter practically doubles over as his whole body shakes.

One of Ben’s large hands settles between his shoulder blades, rubbing up and down until Peter can breathe again. “Okay, buddy,” his uncle murmurs, gently tugging the papers free of his grasping fingers. “Okay. Stark Tower. I can do that. Might take me an extra hour, though- are you going to be okay by yourself?”

Rather than speak and irritate his poor throat, Peter raises a thumb’s up.

Ben grins, just slightly, and ruffles his hair. “Go on back to bed, then. I’ll top off your water cup and head out.” A+ plan. Truly phenomenal. Peter drags himself out of the wobbly desk chair and shuffles over, dragging the same blanket he’d brought along with him in the first place. Toppling over onto his old mattress is easy; so is making an unintelligible noise of gratitude when Ben sets down a refilled plastic cup. And from there, Peter slowly... drifts... off.......

...only to lurch back upright in a panic, mere minutes later, because he addressed the notes to Friday.

FRIDAY, the AI who doesn’t exist yet. Instead of JARVIS, the one who does.

Several curse words drop from his mouth, as Peter scrambles to try and find his- his phone. Which he does not have yet. Because it was a Congrats On Starting High School present after he turned fourteen. Because of course.

Nothing for it, then. As miserable as he feels, Peter needs to get dressed, go after Ben, and swap out the incorrect post-it for a properly addressed one.

When asked, he will very much blame his current fever and illness to explain why he didn’t go out into the living room, and use the landline they still possess at this point in time to call his uncle and fix the error. But that’s later, and this is now, and Peter fumbles for his jeans and a mostly clean t-shirt.

---

Ben Parker would like to claim he isn’t a terribly gullible person. Nor a distrusting one, either. But this feels like a delicate balance between the two, as he takes the subway to cross from Queens over to Manhattan, and then walks a couple blocks to a particular nigh-infamous building. ‘Stark Tower’, ‘Avengers Tower’, either way, the gleaming structure easily attracts attention, even when you aren’t a rubber-necking tourist.

The sheaf of papers crinkles in his back pocket.

If Peter weren’t so sick, Ben probably wouldn’t be humoring him like this. Then again, if Peter weren’t sick, he’d more than likely have found a way to sneak off to Stark Tower himself to deliver the mysterious letter. Taking a deep breath, Ben steps through glass doors, and does his best not to hunch his shoulders or otherwise look nervous around so many people in business attire.

Even so, his thrift store outfit and old leather boots draw at least a few stares.

The young woman at the desk he goes up to at least smiles welcomingly, and Ben does his best to return the expression. “Hi there. This is going to sound weird, and I apologize in advance, but my kid’s sick and begged me to drop off a letter for him.”

“A letter for whom, sir?”

“Ah-” Ben pulls the folded papers from his pocket, miraculously managing to avoid losing the post-it note on top. “-Friday or Happy Hogan? He wrote down both their names, but I’m afraid I don’t know who either is.”

The woman’s face does something complicated when she sees the taped letter, but thankfully doesn’t laugh or scoff. “Well... Mister Hogan is Mister Stark’s head of security, but I’m afraid I haven’t heard of anyone named Friday who works here.” Something chimes on her computer screen, and she glances away to tap a quick reply.

Ben can’t help but blink. “Security? Huh. I would’ve figured a scientist or something...” Well, to be completely honest, he figured a feverish Peter would write directly to Tony Stark, considering how many Iron Man posters occupy the kid’s bedroom walls. But a security man just makes no sense at all.

“Pardon me, but what was your name, sir?”

“Parker. Ben Parker. Uh, like I said, I’m really just humoring my kid while he isn’t feeling well - I understand if you can’t actually get this to Mister Hogan-”

“On the contrary, sir,” a British voice says out of nowhere, making Ben jump. “I have already taken the liberty of summoning the appropriate individual to meet with you.”

He stares at the young woman, who looks startled but not nearly as confused. “That was Jarvis,” she quickly explains, “Mister Stark’s AI. Jarvis runs most of the building’s automatic functions, but- he doesn’t usually speak to guests without prompting.”

An uneasy feeling creeps up the back of Ben’s neck.

‘Jarvis’ doesn’t talk again, and the young woman directs him to wait by the end of the welcome desk for whoever’s coming down to meet him. It’s awkward, to be sure, especially as more people idly glance in his direction.

But then an elevator dings, and Ben turns, and shock overwrites literally everything else.

“Mister Parker?” Tony Stark asks, walking briskly towards him. Behind his glasses, the man’s eyes dart to either side of where Ben is standing, and they flicker slightly with something he would almost call disappointment. “Hi, welcome, sorry to startle you, but we’d better have this conversation in private. Jarvis said you’ve got a letter?” Wordlessly, Ben holds it up. Stark huffs, quickly plucking it from his fingers, but doesn’t bother to do anything besides tucking it into the breast pocket of his suit jacket. Then he claps a hand on Ben’s shoulder, and steers him straight into the waiting elevator. “How’s Peter?”

The shock is still going strong. That’s the only explanation for why he blurts out the single word response, “Sick.”

Stark’s head snaps around. “Sick? With what? How bad is it?”

“Bronchitis,” Ben barely manages to say, most of his brain power currently occupied trying to reconcile the fact that Tony-Iron-Man-Stark apparently knows his nephew. “Not- not too bad, this time. How do you-?”

“J, you downloaded the kid’s medical files, right?” Stark asks the open air. 

“Yes, Sir,” the same disembodied voice as early rings out. “This would be Peter Parker’s fourth bout with bronchitis in the past three years. Records indicate he is taking appropriately prescribed medication and has been home from school for the past two days.”

“Good, that’s good.” Still, Stark’s expression is twisted unpleasantly, and Ben can only stare in a sort of detached fascination. “Double check that our pharmaceuticals division doesn’t have anything better for him, J.”

“Of course, Sir. I also need to inform you that we have received confirmation from Prince T’Challa of Wakanda, and reassurance that his family is taking the necessary precautions.”

“About time Pink Panther got back to us. Anything from Fury and our super-duper wonder spies?”

“They have yet to emerge from the secondary conference room. Mister Barton’s only communication at this point has been to request another round of takeout and coffee, as it looks to be, and I quote, ‘a long-ass day on top of a long-ass night’, Sir.”

Stark snorts. “Got it. Approve whatever he and Nat want. Anyone in the lounge?”

“Negative.”

“Right, take us there, then.” Sighing, the celebrity finally turns to actually face Ben. For a long moment, he only stares. “It’s different, seeing you in person. Good different. Peter actually say anything about the letter?”

“...no,” Ben manages to answer. “No, and I don’t- no offense intended, Mister Stark, but what the hell is going on?”

“Tony, please.” A flash of genuine pain crosses Stark’s face, before he returns to the bland observing expression. “And none taken. I’ve had a lot of people ask me that question since two this morning.”

The unease returns, this time in Ben’s stomach. At 2am, he and May were woken up by Peter shouting in his room - a fever dream turned nightmare, or so they assumed.

He doesn’t particularly care for the coincidence.

“So tell me, Ben Parker: do you believe in time travel?”

---

Peter is so, so screwed.

He left the apartment without his key. Without his shoes. And the longer he attempts to keep shuffling down the city sidewalk only in his socks, overwhelmed by noises and smells and the bright sun overhead, the more it becomes abundantly clear:

He messed up.

Majorly messed up. On top of his other major screw-up, and the more he tries to squint at street signs without the glasses he also forgot at the apartment, the more his head pounds and his nose runs and his chest hurts.

Eventually it’s just- too much. Peter coughs weakly into his elbow, and scoots into the first alley he can find.

---

Once, not so long ago, Ben didn’t think aliens or superheroes existed outside of books and movies. Time travel isn’t that far a leap in comparison.

But the more Stark keeps talking, the less Ben takes in, overwhelmed by a couple of things the celebrity breezed over, which stand out all the more for his lack of emphasis. First and foremost: Tony Stark cares about Peter. Knows him. Likes him. Invites him on weekend visits to work on personal projects. Illegally hacks medical databases to double check that the boy is getting appropriate medication for his current illness. Ben might actually laugh if it weren’t for the second thing:

He’s going to die.

Stark doesn’t outright say that, of course, but he tip-toes around the fact that he knows Peter well enough to care about him, and he knows May well enough to be wary of lying to her, but today is the first time he’s ever laid eyes on a living, breathing Ben.

Peter is going to be a superhero. May is going to be a widow. Peter caused some kind of magical accident that sent the Avengers back in time three years. May is going to be a widow. Peter apparently wrote out four pages of notes about incoming disasters for nothing, because Stark and his teammates have been scrambling for the past ten hours to prevent all of it and more.

May is going to be a widow.

Eventually, Stark must realize Ben’s only absorbing every fourth sentence or so, because he abruptly finds himself pushed down into a sleek leather chair, glass tumbler in hand. He doesn’t bother to check exactly what kind of alcohol he’s been given; it burns going down, and that’s good enough to restore some clarity to his overwhelmed mind.

First thing’s first. “Peter has superpowers?”

“He will. Probably. We know when and how he gets them, at this point it’s just a matter of making sure he’s in the right place at the right time. If he still wants- I mean, I’ll be honest, I’d probably sleep a little better knowing the kid isn’t swinging around Queens stopping muggers in the middle of the night, but I also know there’s only a point oh two chance he’ll willingly avoid becoming Spider-man again.”

Ben nods, swallowing down his initial reaction to that word-vomit. “Okay. Okay- next question.”

“Shoot.”

“How do I die?”

Stark promptly winces. “...alright, poor choice of words on my part. Look, Ben- can I call you Ben?” He nods. “Thanks- look. I don’t know all the details, but Peter definitely will, and between the two of us I can guarantee you won’t this time. Hell, I’ll get you a nano-tech bulletproof vest if I have to, but we’re going to make damn sure you live to a ripe old age no matter how many burned casseroles May tries to fix for dinner. Alright?”

Something in the back of Ben’s mind whispers that it can’t possibly be that simple, but he’s willing to take the other man’s words at face value for the moment. “Alright.”

“Sir? Captains Wilson and Rogers have returned, with two guests.”

“Hot damn. Okay, Ben- just hang tight for a minute, I need to say hi to Ruby Tuesday and her delinquent brother, and then we’ll see about getting Peter up here, yeah?” Ben doesn’t have a chance to respond before Stark is up and moving, heading for the elevator just as it slides open.

Captain Rogers is apparently that Captain Rogers, and Ben’s eyes widen so much he half-wonders if they might actually fall out of his face.

Steve-Captain-America-Rogers steps out of the elevator, face tired but triumphant, dressed in civilian clothes rather than his iconic uniform. That’s definitely The Shield slung across his back, though.

Behind him comes another man, dark-skinned with short hair, rolling his eyes as he finishes saying something to the people behind him. Both young, on the thin side - the girl’s hair is long and dark, the boy’s shifting from a similar color to silvery-white in a way that doesn’t look like a dye job. He’s nervous; she’s relaxed. Stark approaches them with stiff shoulders and a careful smile.

“Tony,” the girl says warmly, and half the tension drops away from Stark’s frame.

“Wanda,” he replies, stopping short of arm’s reach. “You’re okay?”

“I will be. I have Pietro again.” She reaches out, and catches the boy’s hand where he meets her halfway. “Ultron?”

“Shut down for good. Never even got the chance to wake up and cause trouble.”

The girl lets out a low, shaky sigh, squeezing her eyes shut as she nods. “Good. That is- very good. Vision?”

“We’ve got him. Sort of- no body for him to land in like the rest of us, obviously, but Cho’s putting one together, and there’s a copy of his consciousness tucked in with Jarvis right now.”

“One moment please, Miss Maximoff,” the AI says. A moment later, what sounds like the exact same voice speaks again, but with a great deal more emotion. “Hello, Wanda.”

“Viz,” she replies, a smile slowly spreading across her face. “You are alright?”

“I am much better, now that you’re here.”

Well didn’t that sound adorably sappy. Some small sound must escape Ben’s mouth, because a moment later the girl, Wanda, is looking right at him with a frown. “Who is this?”

“Ben Parker,” Stark promptly answers, shifting in place to make a sweeping gesture. “Better known as Spider-man’s uncle. He came to drop off some notes from the kid, who apparently didn’t realize we all got swept back in time thanks to his stunt with the Mind and Time Stones. Speaking of whom- Jarvis, have we got eyes on Underoos yet?”

“Yes, Sir. But I am afraid Peter Parker is not in his Queens apartment.”

Like a storm blowing out a candle, Stark’s face turns immediately grim. “Beg pardon?”

“Facial recognition picked him up eight blocks from his home building, moving slowly. Approximately nine minutes and thirty-four seconds ago, he entered an alleyway without any available security cameras. To my knowledge he has not yet emerged.”

Ben couldn’t say when exactly he got to his feet, but he suddenly finds himself standing next to Stark, hands clenched to keep from shaking. The other man meets his panicked gaze, and a flicker of understanding passes between them. “Show us, J.”

A holographic screen pops up. Footage plays. Ben barely pays any attention to Captain America stepping closer, too focused on the little figure helpfully highlighted by Jarvis.

(Peter isn’t even wearing shoes.)

“What, did he feel the need for a Delmar sandwich?” Stark grumbles, before the image zooms in. It becomes abruptly clear that Peter isn’t feeling suddenly better - his face is tight with desperation, mouth open to breathe, and every few steps he pauses to lean against a wall, eyes screwed shut. Ben feels a vice grip squeeze his heart, especially when his nephew staggers between two buildings, disappearing with his head down, arms tucked in close.

“Yeah, he’s not doing so hot,” the other man beside Captain America states.

“Understatement of the year, Wilson. Alright, everything else is on pause, I need to go get him-”

“I am faster.”

They all turn to stare at the boy still standing halfway behind Wanda. Even she looks surprised. “Pietro?”

He shrugs, a small nonchalant twitch, belied by the concern in his eyes. “I am faster. Show me a map from here to there, and I can pick him up without attracting attention.”

Ben glances at Stark. The celebrity offers back a flat smile, face carefully blank. “I mean, he’s not wrong. Speedy Gonzales here could probably run to the other end of Long Island and back in a couple of minutes.” There’s a moment’s hesitation, and then- “Your call, Mister Parker. He’s- your kid. First and foremost.”

...after a long, painful moment, Ben turns back towards Pietro. “Please.”

---

It feels like his life is just one big mistake after another.

Arguing with his uncle, distracting him at exactly the wrong moment, and paying for it with a funeral. Ignoring Mister Stark’s orders, almost causing all those people on the ferry to die. Not pushing harder to get a message through to Happy, almost allowing the plane to be stolen.

Grabbing the first two Infinity Stones to go flying past his face, in a room full of aliens trying to steal them and Avengers trying to protect them. Peter can still feel the burning in his hands, like catching a pair of electrified cables except dialed up to eleven, and every time he tries to take a deep breath it just gets worse. Not even the spider bite had caused him to hurt this much.

Wind whistles, short and sharp. A train going by- or maybe just a single car? No, wait, that didn’t make any sense-

“You are Peter, yes?”

Slowly, agonizingly, he manages to peel one eye partly open, and squints at the guy crouching in front of him. Familiar, but- not in the way that meant Peter had seen him somewhere before. “Y-yeah?”

“I am Pietro Maximoff,” the guy says. “Tony Stark and your uncle are upset you left home.”

Ah.

Well. On the one hand, Ben clearly made it to the Tower. On the other, Peter’s probably going to be in a lot of trouble for this. On the third- on a metaphorical third hand, Peter hurts. He can’t even bring himself to say so to this guy, Pietro- Maximoff, does that mean he’s related to Wanda- and instead whines, hands pressing tighter against his head.

“I am going to take you to them,” Pietro goes on. Peter lets his eye squeeze shut again, and jerks his head in a short, shallow nod. Hands carefully drag him out from his hiding place between two dumpsters, and then he’s being picked up, cradled close like a much younger kid. Normally he’d protest, insist that he’s sixteen- or thirteen- but honestly, Peter can’t bring himself to care.

There’s a distinct lurch, and a thousand sounds bombard his ears, horns and voices and wheels turning and doors opening and it’s way WAY too much too many too soon-

-and he checks out.

---

Ben doesn’t quite stare at his watch the entire time Pietro’s gone, but it’s a near thing. Steve Rogers takes a moment to introduce himself, along with Sam Wilson and Wanda Maximoff, but thankfully none of the Avengers try to force any strained small talk. Stark barely makes a sound at all - he keeps on staring at the blue-tinted holographic screens, eyes glued to the replaying clip of Peter stumbling into that alleyway.

It’s a relief when Pietro blurs back into existence in front of them, Ben’s actual physical nephew held securely in his arms.

But only for a split second.

Because Peter looks awful.

In the time since Ben left their family’s apartment, his kid has somehow managed to slide from pale to almost ghostly white, tremors wracking his entire body. He doesn’t react to Ben or Stark calling his name, eyes screwed shut and fists pressed hard against both ears, breathes coming short and shallow.

“Jarvis, vitals,” Stark orders, gesturing for Pietro to set his burden down on the nearest sofa. Peter whines when the young man lets go, but Ben slides right in, one hand carding through his nephew’s hair while the other presses flat against his scrawny chest. He doesn’t pay attention to whatever the AI relates to Stark; there’s just Peter, and his ragged breathing, and his pounding heart.

“Okay, kiddo,” Ben murmurs, soft but hopefully loud enough for the kid to hear. “We can make it through this, and you’re going to get better, if only so I can ground you until you’re eighteen.”

Peter’s next breath comes out more like a huff than a gasp, and one corner of his mouth turns up, just slightly.

“Only eighteen?” Stark leans a little over Ben’s shoulder, not quite intruding though it’s pretty clear he’d like to. “I’d make it twenty-five, at least.”

“M- Mis’er S’ark-”

“Hey, kid. Fancy seeing you here, when you should be tucked up at home in a nice warm bed. What’s the idea, huh, giving me and your poor uncle a matching pair of heart attacks?”

Peter coughs weakly, eyes still closed. “Wrote- wrong. Fuh-friday, not- Jarvis.”

Ben sees Stark stiffen in the corner of his eye, and holds back a sigh. “Friday’s the name of another AI?”

“Back-up for Jarvis,” Stark mutters. “I would’ve switched to her in a few days, if we were still following the original timeline.”

That manages to make Peter’s face scrunch up with confusion. “-what?”

“We all came back in time, kid. Whatever the hell you did with those Stones, they picked up every Avenger plus a few bonus people and tossed our minds back to the good old days before we’d even heard of Thanos. Possibly those Guardian idiots too, but we haven’t been able to make contact with them yet.”

“Oh,” Peter croaks, finally cracking his eyes open. “Good?”

Rather than answer, Stark sucks in a startled breath, and Ben feels his stomach swoop unpleasantly. From the abrupt silence behind them, where the others had been murmuring amongst themselves, he figures everybody’s equally stunned.

Peter’s eyes are glowing.

The kid just stares upward for a moment, obviously aware something’s wrong. “...Mister Stark? I don’t- feel so good.”

To Be Continued...

[chrollohearttags]

Okay hear me out- the princess of campus is a bitch (that bitch to be fair) with very rude attitude and a mission to piss Armin off

oooh! armin’s mean ass meeting his match? sign me up!

!mean armin, who was notorious for being the campus asshole. rich kid, super intelligent playboy with a god complex has the whole world in his hands, including any girl he wants..except (y/n).

!mean armin, who first spotted you in his literature course, just knew your pretty ass would be on his roster. The nails stayed done, hair always laid and hanging to your ass..dressed in the cutest outfits and latest fashion. With a body like a stallion. Truly THEE it girl and hands down the baddest bitch at the university.

!mean armin, who was never known to press a bitch or chase her, done what he always did and sent one of his flunkies to get your attention because casual flirting was so beneath him. On your way back to your off-campus apartment, one of them approaches you.

“I’m friends with Armin and he wants to see you, says he thinks you’re kinda cute. That’s a pretty big deal..shouldn’t keep him waiting too long.”

he’s instead met with laughter and a finger in his face. “Who the fuck is he supposed to be? Better yet, who the fuck are you and why are you in my face right now?” totally not expecting that attitude but they learned who they’re messing with.

!mean armin, who is not used to being rejected, makes it his mission to get your attention now. He doesn’t like being ignored so he constantly sends people to bother you. In between classes, when you’re working out, whatever..it’s so annoying. Not to mention seeing all the other dudes try to approach you.

“If he wants me so bad, then tell his ass to come at me correct instead of all this bullshit. I don’t care if he used to these other bitches falling at his feet, I’m not them..he wouldn’t even know what do with me.”

!mean armin, hosting a party at his frat house, invites you in hopes of getting you alone is shocked to learn you have no interest in being another notch on his belt nor kicking it with him.

!mean armin, who’s surrounded by girls pushes them all to the wayside when he learns you actually showed up and didn’t even come see him. He’s pissed and comes out to try and plead his case in person. He can’t believe he’s being forced to grovel for a woman’s attention but if that’s what it takes to get his prize, so be it.

“Me and you? We just fit. You’re the most beautiful girl on campus, I’m the most popular. You could have whatever you want if you were on my team, baby. We’d run this place.”

it’s the worst and most off putting thing you’ve ever head and you want to laugh in his face so bad but you do him one better and literally flip his world upside down by doing something he’ll never forget.

“Yeah? Whatever I want?” Running a finger under his chin, only to hit him with a swerve in front of his whole little crew and all his bitches. You turn around and instead feel up on somebody else, the campus nerd, who just so happens to be his ex best friend..and your new man!

“See I would but your homeboy much cuter and that dick is way better. Honestly, you just ain’t got it like everybody keeps telling you, boo. They just kiss your ass ‘cause you rich but I wouldn’t ever fuck with a square bitch like you, Artlert. See, I’m always having my way, with or without a nigga so don’t ever think you can impress me like these little dumb ass hoes. Might as well stick to them because you wouldn’t even know what to do with me. And tell your little dogs to hop off my dick before I do something bad to one of them.”

needless to say, him and his party are left in shambles. He’s seething, mad as fuck and he makes it everyone’s problem. But you stay on his ass and put your foot on his neck every chance you get.

Whether it’s in academics, popularity, dating, sports or even fashion, he can’t ever outdo you and it’s so hilarious watching him try to compete where he doesn’t compare.

[drpeppertummy]

@ that one anon who wanted someone havin dinner after a rough week: this one fits the request way more than the one i responded with. its a little clunky but What Ever

[super super mild group stuffing, very brief mention of past drunk driving & death]

"Max, honey, would you sit down for a moment and relax?"

"I'm nervous! You know I get nervous."

"I know that, but you are gonna give yourself a heart attack if you don't take it easy! Keonda told me how tough work's been on you lately. Junie's fine, I promise." Marsha caught Max in her arms mid-pace and held him tight.

"I know," he sighed defeatedly. He draped his lanky arms around her, and she laid her head against his chest, listening to his heart anxiously fluttering away. A sudden ping from his pocket nearly sent him through the ceiling, and Marsha jumped at his sudden jolt. He quickly whipped his phone out with one hand and clumsily threw on his reading glasses with the other.

we're here. not going anywhere else tonight. promise. night dad💗

Marsha felt Max relax a little in her arms. He slowly typed out a reply, doing his best to keep it brief, and slipped his phone back into his pocket.

"Now will you sit down?"

"Yeah, I guess I can sit down." That would be a first for the week. Apart from scattered and restless sleep, Max had barely had a moment to stop and breathe all week, let alone relax. Between what felt like endless testing, juggling a lot of restless, rowdy students and irate, exhausted teachers, and cleaning up after his deranged principal's poor choices, work had been brutal. He'd been running around so much that he'd barely had time for lunch during the days, and he'd spent much of the week even hangrier than usual. He regretted ever having taken an administrative position--being the only reasonable person on the team didn't exactly pay off--but the way things seemed to be going, he wasn't sure being back in the classroom would be much better.

Outside of work, he'd had to make an emergency run to the vet after the cat had gotten into a dessert he'd been saving. Marsha had been surprised to see him turn up at her workplace, and he'd been mortified at the situation, though she would never have blamed him for it. The car had broken down and left Junie stranded an hour away, and he'd had to call up Alfie to go rescue her. Fortunately, his mouthy little mechanic had been able to fix the car up without issue, but ever since an accident with a drunk driver had halved his family, car troubles made Max terribly anxious, especially when Junie was concerned.

It had been something just about every day, an endless barrage of stress and trouble and problems, and Max, who was jittery on the best of days, was just about at his breaking point. Today was Friday, though. The end-of-the-year testing was over, the cat was fine, Junie was safely at her friend's house, and Max was limp on the couch with Marsha by his side. Alfie, who made up for his abrasive demeanor by coming to the rescue time and time again, was in the kitchen making dinner. Max would have liked to help, but Marsha wouldn't let him go, insisting that he rest for at least a few minutes.

"I'll pin you down if I have to," she teased, squeezing him gently around the waist. "You're not goin' anywhere, Stringbean." With the amount of energy he had left, Max wouldn't have been able to fight if he wanted to. He pecked her on the cheek and dropped his head back against the cushion. He trusted Alfie well enough in the kitchen by this point anyhow; he and Marsha both embraced the Kestlers' gluten-free diet as their own the moment they stepped through the door. Max had always insisted that they didn't have to as long as they were careful, but his partners were adamant on keeping him and Junie safe. As long as they were in his house, they said, they'd eat the same as them.

"Hey, you assholes better not be hoggin' up all the lovin' in here," said Alfie, leaning against the door frame.

"Don't worry, we'll save a little bit for you," giggled Marsha.

"You better. Dinner's almost ready."

"You're a saint, Alfie," said Max, lifting his head. Alfie laughed.

"You're delirious. Come on, a little chicken'll do you good."

The trio sat down together for dinner, a nice big plate of chicken, rice, asparagus, and potatoes before each of them. Max doubted he'd be able to finish his--it was more of an Alfie-sized serving, and Alfie, small as he was, had a remarkable appetite--but it was the most inviting sight he'd seen all week, and his belly rumbled at the smell of it. Marsha smiled and gave it an affectionate pinch.

Max hadn't realized just how much he needed a good, filling homemade dinner until he dug in. He'd been undereating all week, and his meals had mostly consisted of hastily thrown together ingredients which weren't very substantial at all. Most of his cooking efforts had gone to Junie--he would never leave her without three square meals a day--but he just hadn't had the time or appetite to eat much himself. Alfie's cooking was an absolute godsend tonight.

"Y'know, Alfie, you may be a royal pain, but you sure can put together a good dinner," said Marsha, sticking her fork into a big hunk of potato. She smiled playfully at him, and he threatened to flick a forkful of rice at her.

"Play nice, you two," Max warned, smiling fondly. He was already beginning to feel markedly better. Marsha was right; the food was delicious. The chicken was tender and well-seasoned, the potatoes were crispy on the outside and fluffy on the inside, the asparagus was perfectly cooked, and the rice made a hot, filling addition to the meal. It wasn't long before Max began to feel full, but, unable to resist eating a little more, he decided to push it a little. When he saw Marsha quitting, though, he supposed it was time to stop; her capacity was bigger than his, and he knew he'd give himself a tummyache before long. His belly felt comfortably stuffed now, and he leaned back in his seat with a contented sigh, resting a hand on his stomach.

"Anybody want the rest of mine? I don't think I can finish."

"Not me, I'm stuffed," said Marsha. Alfie raised his hand, and Max slid the plate over to him.

The three sat and chatted for a little while as Alfie finished off Max's leftovers, bitching and laughing and finally beginning to unwind. Marsha, tired of her snug high-waisted jeans, decided to undo the button and give her full tummy some space. Max would have liked to do the same--his belt was squeezing him just a smidge too tightly around the middle--but he felt less inclined to do so at the table.

Marsha stood up and left the table for a moment, giving Max's cheek a gentle pat as she passed him, then returned with a foil-covered plate.

"I know we're all a little stuffed, but I made some girlfriend cookies earlier," she said, setting the plate down and uncovering the dessert. "Don't worry, I only used stuff you already had, so you know they're solid."

"You two are such a pair of angels," said Max, slipping an arm around her waist and bumping his head affectionately against her side. She leaned down to kiss his forehead, then returned to her seat.

"Think you can squeeze one in?" She took a cookie from the plate, smiling slyly.

"Maybe just one," Max agreed, joining her in taking one. Alfie watched them, making no move of his own. Marsha tilted her head at him.

"You're not gonna have one?"

"I'm a little full," Alfie confessed, resting his hands on his belly. Marsha stared at him with amused surprise.

"Why, Alfie Shannon," she exclaimed, laughing. "Since when do you ever get full?"

"Oh, shut up and eat your cookies," he said, unable to hold back a sheepish grin. They gladly did, and Marsha even ate a second. Max stopped at one, his stomach teetering just on the edge of discomfort. He was worried he might topple over that edge, but he never did. His belly remained comfortably stuffed, and he supposed it would be even more comfortable once he put away his now-too-snug belt and traded in his work pants for pajamas.

They rested at the table for a moment, giving their full bellies a chance to settle before moving around, and then got to cleaning up. Alfie, as good a cook as he was, was awful at cleaning as he went and had left a tremendous mess, but between the three of them, they had the kitchen back in order in no time, and they were free to retreat to the couch. Max excused himself to ditch the belt before joining the other two and returned feeling a smidge more comfortable than before.

"Look at you, all indecent," Alfie teased, tugging at Max's belt loop as he sat between them. Marsha reached across Max to give Alfie's belly a firm pat, and he groaned in response. Her eyes moved to Max's belly, which was pressing out against the waist of his pants.

"Y'know, you'll feel a lot better if you do this," she said, unbuttoning Max's pants. The fly parted under the pressure of his uncharacteristically round tummy, and a blush crept onto his face. She smiled and patted his belly gently.

Max draped an arm over each of his partners' shoulders, and they leaned in close against his chest. It was chilly for May, and the warmth of snuggling up together was pleasant, as was the soft sound of their sleepy breathing and the gentle gurgles of their digesting tummies. As they sank into the couch and each other, the long, difficult week faded into a distant memory for Max, and, feeling full and cozy, he finally began to truly relax.

[wayfayrr]

I am LIVING for the househusband shenanigans, it gives me so many ideas (super long ask i'm sorry lol)

but i love the idea of the chain ending up in reader's world, more permanently, and after falling hard for reader to boot, so the period of adjustment for everyone is wild and what the fuck is reader supposed to do with 9 (or more, depending who you ask) lovesick heroes in their house fit for 1-2 people?? not to mention none of them have documentation or decent knowledge of modern culture

i can imagine some of the Links (time, legend, four) jumping at the opportunity to learn more about their darling's world, and their likes and dislikes, in order to better understand them and get closer to them (it's the feeling of wanting to know every possible thing about something they're obsessed with, just completely filling their brain with it)

Some (most) Links are going to be straight up hazards to themselves and their environment with their curiosity and lack of understanding for technology. it doesn't matter what precautions you take something is going to get blown up in the microwave.

wild and sage would probably attempt to cook for you, knowing how stressed you are about the whole thing, only to wildly overestimate how long it takes to cook something with a microwave (all you'd told them was that it heated things up like a cooking pot) and also fail to realize that some things cannot be put in the microwave

an alarm clock or something goes off, and one of them smashes it thinking its a threat (time... old man don't know shit about tech and he's too traumatized)

and good luck getting your clothes back because all of the boys are going to participate in the theft of them at some point. doesn't even matter if it's not something they can wear. they just want it because it's yours and it smells like you and it's like a piece of you-

speaking of clothes, if you start to voice concern for lack of clothing (bc someone keeps taking all of them) they are all jumping at the chance to lend you their own

Legend would leave a spare tunic of his for you, not even giving you the chance to decline when you simply find it folded on your bed. And he'd mend or tailor anything for you that you have complaints with, asking you so (uncharacterisitically) nicely to be with him while he does it, because, he's going through the trouble for you, the least you can do is keep him company, right?

He might even intentionally cause problems with your clothes, if he's desperate enough for attention. But how can you blame him? He knows it's not your fault, but your mind just been all over the place with everything going on and with the time you've been spending with the other he just feels left out.

All he wants is your praise, to hear you tell him thank you, and that he did a good job, and maybe run a hand through his hair, yeah? God, he'd just melt against if you did that. It makes everything beyond worth it, for you to stroke his hair and tell him how you don't know what you'd do without him. His angel, it makes him feel so blissful, so special when you give him your attention like that.

A few of them would eventually get the idea to get a job, prompting the rest to act as well. They can't just let their god(dess) take care of everything, can they? That would be asinine.

It would be difficult, considering they don't have...ID's, or anything of the like, but there are still ways for them to earn money

i could go on, but... yeah lol

Don't worry about it being long, I love getting asks like these!! I love talking about the househusband au, all the different ways it could go with the chain and the different members are really fun to explore! And all of your ideas in this one are just 😭💖 I'd always welcome any asks or dm's about the au, because it's just so much fun to hear everyone else's ideas for how it'd work as well!✨✨

The housing is certainly an issue for the chain though SOJNCAN with that many people not used to the modern world in such a small place?? They're basically begging for something bad to happen, like a fire or something breaking even worse if reader's house is being rented to them. Documentation and ID's as well? For some of the chain, they could likely get away with it, but it's really a goal for them to get ID asap because if they do they can get out of a lot of legal issues Wind and the "kids" (Wild and Cal) are the first of the rest to get ID for the sake of school. And there'd likely be a written language barrier as well! If reader wanted to buy some other place to live they better start saving, who knows maybe they could just trade in a few rupees at a time and have a new place in a matter of days?

As for the ones you've mentioned wanting to learn everything possible, it'd get to a point where they're sitting with bloodshot eyes in front of either readers laptop they've borrowed or something they managed to buy steal for themselves having gone down a cursed Wikipedia rabbit hole, Maybe even watching through some playthroughs of their own games? Or if reader was still studying, like at uni or something, suddenly they know more than even the experts in that field.

ALL of the links at some point get dangerously close to breaking something, it's more a matter of if one of the more experienced cough Sage cough or reader steps in time to stop them. I absolutely adore all the different things you've suggested though, the microwave and the alarm clock??? Time's still got trauma to do with clocks and alarms and it's so perfect✨✨

The chain stealing readers clothes is also just 🥹, it's the easier option than even washing their own clothes with their laundry not because readers worn these in the past, no never. May I raise the idea to them stealing things they can't wear to putting the clothes that don't fit for whatever reason onto pillows?? so they can hold a part of their beloved when they sleep.

Legend with fixing their clothes as well as lending them his own I'm sobbing 😭😭😭, since ofc he's one of the more sensible ones he gets left alone far more often so he's so much more desperate for their attention even though he only gets less because they trust him more alone. So for him to get those small moments of praise, even though they're so small because it's only a matter of seconds till readers torn away again by someone else shouting for their help 😭

I think I've mentioned them getting jobs if they were dumped irl, seeing as there are a few they could do without ID you couldn't pry influencer!wars out of my cold dead hands. The moment of realisation they've been using their darling would be such a moment of guilt before they follow legend's/sage's leads and start working or helping reader around the house, those links at school would be getting the top grades in their classes seeing as that's what reader wants them to focus on.

[persephoneflowerpetals]

This is kind of a dumb idea because I don’t know how this concept would work with Greek gods (Disney magic I guess? Lol), but I was thinking about that cliche “body swap” trope with Hades and Persephone the other day and I just came up with so many ideas lol.

Like, I can totally see Persephone in Hades’ body being all sweet and soft and shy (which is highly unusual to see from Hades unless he’s with Persephone lol) while Hades in Persephone’s body has a fast-talking, sleazy, and super casual personality and everyone’s shook because Persephone doesn’t act like that at all. Like, it’s so odd to others seeing them act like each other when they don’t know the context of their situation. Also their voices don’t change, so Hades sounding all sweet while Persephone sounds…like Hades lol is just so weird and off putting.

And then like, maybe they have to keep their body swap a secret so they aren’t causing a big commotion about it so until it gets fixed they have to pretend to be each other and it’s harder than they realize because (despite getting along so well as a couple and as friends) they’re total opposites in personality.

I also love the idea of them both just kinda admiring each other in general lmao, like Hades is just like…in love with himself because he looks like his wife now and then he just goes on to admire himself (or Persephone as himself since she’s now in his body) because the dude can honestly be so full of himself sometimes, so he thinks he’s gorgeous too lmaooo (it’s pretty much like that scene from Scooby Doo 2 lmao). Meanwhile, Persephone’s freaking out because she looks like her husband and (as much as she loves and admires him) she doesn’t want to be stuck as him for the rest of eternity. And Hades is just really cool about the whole thing and doesn’t even mind (however, he too doesn’t want to look like his wife for the rest of eternity, so he wants to get this whole thing fixed at some point because after all, he’s got an underworld to run).

I also like the idea of them struggling to use and control each other’s powers. Like, Persephone can’t stop accidentally setting stuff on fire and Hades either can’t stop growing stuff wherever he goes or he can’t grow anything but a tiny seedling/sapling lol

I had this stupid quote idea too lol:

Hades (as Persephone): *comes in with a bunch of shopping bags*

Persephone (as Hades): Where in the underworld have you been!? I’ve been looking all over for you!

Hades: I was busy!

Persephone: Doing what?!

Hades: Shopping!

Persephone: Hades!

Hades: C’mon, babe! You never let me spoil you, so I had to do it for you! Look, see I got ya some new chitons that fit you perfectly. I was thinkin’ maybe after everything is said and done you can personally show ‘em off to me. Huh? *winks*

Persephone: Hades…can you be serious for like, one second, please?

Anyways I kinda wanna write this as a fic, but like I said I dunno how I could logically explain it since their gods and I don’t think that kind of thing could happen to them/be a problem for them so yeah lmao, but I just thought I’d share the idea since I haven’t posted in a hot minute (I started a GREAT new job and I’ve been training, so I’ve been putting all my energy and time into learning how to do everything)

[writingjourney]

Hi, I really love your writing! :3 i hate to be a bother, but do you think you have any advice for me? I want to write some fics of my own. Short ones mostly, but I still keep running into various problems. I'm good at description and I'm decent at dialogue for the most part, but when it comes to actually moving a scene forward and making things happen, or even just moving from one scene to the next, I have absolutely no idea how to proceed. Like, everyone present at the time just ends up talking in circles without managing to say anything new or pertinent. And even when I have every major bit that I want to happen planned out, I cannot figure out how to actually get it to each point or even to A point at all. At any rate, thank you for your time, even if you don't respond to this, and I hope you have a good day/evening :)

Thank you anon ♡ Sorry I was a little busy today so I didn't have any time to properly reply until now!! You're not a bother at all, I love to talk about writing!!!! Some more in-depth thoughts below the cut :)

I definitely know what you mean. It's hard to keep scenes concise while also making sure the pacing is neither too fast nor too slow and adding the details you want in there without rambling on. Pacing depends on the scene and the story you want to tell (faster pace for action, slower pace for calmer moments, more description/longer scenes = slower pace etc etc) – you can shorten or stretch scenes as much as you want to. You definitely should be following your own style and not try to adapt to what you think a fic/story in general should look like.

That being said, I get that sometimes you want to move a scene forward and it doesn't always work out. Usually, this happens to me when I am not very excited about what's happening right now and need a change (or I don't know what happens next). You can start working on a scene that excites you more. I am a bit chaotic like that, I just write out scenes and dialogue lines and paragraphs as they come to me and then I just link them up later. You can link scenes by time-skipping, by adding some introspection, a character's observations etc. And yes, show don't tell is good advice but not every single thing always needs to be written out in detail and sometimes you just have to say that it's the next day and move on.

Or... well, you literally change the scene at hand. Have the characters get interrupted if they can't wrap up the convo, someone disturbs them, one of them realizes they have an appointment, it suddenly starts to rain – throw stuff at them that makes them become active again. Sometimes re-writing helps as well. Not editing, rewriting. Keep the OG draft but write the scene again from scratch. We get so attached to lines we've written we don't always check to see if they still fit. Push stuff around, change the order of things, just try on some changes and see if it flows nicer.

Another thing I can recommend if you want to go from BIG scene to BIG scene is to add some smaller scenes for transition. I like to do this, make the character reflect on the events while doing some menial task, have them meet someone else and have the reflection happen via conversation, have them just observe their surroundings, have them dedicate some time to their hobby – it all gives us new info about the character and it won't feel as much like BAM BAM BAM big scene after big scene. Quiet before the storm.

Now, you said you want to write short fics, so I'm not sure if you mean just drabble/ficlet type of stories or more elaborate one-shots instead of longer multi chapters like I sometimes do? The key I would say to a very short fic is to start off strong. Jump straight into the scene and don't be scared to omit the backstory and descriptions, it's hard but if you want to keep it short it's necessary to really think about which descriptions make sense. I'm not good at super short fics usually unless I'm possessed by one specific scene that doesn't need much context, so perhaps I'm not the best to ask.

For one shots with multiple shorter scenes I think you need to also just be brave and skip around. Scenes don't always need long transitions, sometimes it's a few days later when the next notable thing happens and that's where you continue. Again, I think strong scene openers really help here. Draw the reader into the next scene and they won't even notice. You can always add more description later should it feel clunky. Read the transitions aloud, that also helps to see if they flow nicely.

I hope this was any help at all. Please feel free to ask again if something is unclear, if I should go into more detail for some of it or you have any other questions :) ♡