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thebigbadbatswife · 2 years

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Let Me Take Care Of You | Batman x Fem!Reader

Summary - Bruce is always the one taking care of you. Tonight, you want to be the one that takes care of him.

Warnings - Minor Injuries, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff.

Word Count - 1.2k

Bruce groaned as he stepped out of the batmobile and into the batcave. Tonight had been rough. Very rough. While he didn’t have any severe injuries, he was bruised and had more than a couple of scrapes.

He supported himself on the metal railing as he made his way up the stairs that lead to the batcomputer. He needed to finish tonight’s case files before he could even think about showering and joining you in bed.

He was stopped in his tracks when he saw you sitting in his chair, in front of the computer. At the sound of his heavy footsteps, on the metal platform, you looked up from your phone. You frowned when you saw the state of him.

“Bruce,” you said softly. You slipped your phone into the pocket of the grey hoodie you were wearing (which you had totally stolen from him). You got up from the chair and walked over to him.

“I’m fine, baby,” he replied as you pushed back his cowl and started inspecting his face. “They’re all superficial, nothing serious.”

“Still, I would feel better if you let me look them over.”

Knowing how stubborn you were, as well as how much you worried about him, he nodded. “Okay.”

While he removed his suit, so you could get a better look at his wounds, you set about getting the medical supplies. You had seen, and assisted, Alfred enough to know what you were doing.

He sat down on a stool, so that it was easier for you to look him over. A large portion of his chest and back were covered in ugly, deep purple bruising. You sighed. The only comfort he knew you had was knowing this wasn’t close to being the worst he had ever had.

Once you were satisfied, you set the medical supplies aside.

Bruce was about to get up when he felt you kiss his shoulder. You trailed your kisses across his shoulder, collarbone and up his neck, ending at his lips. Your kisses were soft and light, no hint of desire behind any of them.

You were now standing between his legs, your hands cupping his face, and his hands came to rest just above your hips. He was about to ask you what was wrong when you spoke.

“My poor, Brucie,” you said softly, “you do so much for us, for everyone really. Especially for those who will never even know your sacrifice. But you never take a moment for yourself.”

“I have to. You know I have to. I—”

“I know. I know you do and I would never try to change who you are because I love who you are. I’m just asking for you to, please, let me take care of you tonight.”

His first instinct was to refuse. He had case files and evidence he needed to look over before he could even think about rest, but something stopped him. It wasn’t just the look in your eyes. It was how he couldn’t remember a time when anyone had offered to take care of him that was more than just the injuries he collected night after night. It sent a warm feeling through his chest that he was deeply unaccustomed to. He didn’t hate it like he thought he might have. Instead, it was very much welcomed.

“Okay.”

The water in the shower was the exact temperature that Bruce enjoyed, after a long night of crime fighting; freezing. While you preferred a much warmer temperature, this was all about him. And the cold water would help with his bruises.

You grabbed the shampoo bottle and poured some of the contents into your hand. Since he towered above you, he had to lean down so that you could reach his hair. Not that he minded.

You ran your fingers through his hair, lathering his scalp and gently massaging his head. It felt so good that his eyes ended closing on their own accord.

“That feels good, huh?” you cooed, a soft smile on your lips.

He groaned softly. It really, really did. He was starting to wonder why you hadn’t suggested this sooner. Then again, usually when you two showered together, it was to get in a quickie before he disappeared again. Perhaps it wasn’t such a mystery, after all.

You directed him underneath the water stream and began to rinse the suds out of his hair. You then grabbed the shower gel. Your touch was light as you spread the gel across his pecks, sudsing him up.

He couldn’t think of a time when anyone had treated him like this. Like he was made of fine china and wasn’t a hardened vigilante, that had taken on the worst this world had to offer. No one had ever treated him like this before.

Bruce couldn’t describe what he was feeling. It was so foreign, yet so familiar at the same time. Whatever it was, it had him up on cloud nine.

The look in your eyes was filled with adoration. As were the kisses you pressed to his chest and back, as you washed and rinsed him off. It added to the warmth in his chest and his breathing hitched enough for you to take notice. This was a lot for him.

“You okay?” you asked.

He nodded. “Yeah, I’m just”—he took a deep breath —“I’m just feeling a little overwhelmed.”

It was true that Bruce was the sort of person who didn’t like to feel his emotions, let alone talk about them, to anyone. After a decade of doing so, he had gotten pretty good at it. Yet, when it came to you, he found that he couldn’t. He wanted to let you in. So he did.

“But it’s the good type of overwhelmed,” he continued.

Your hands came up and your thumbs swiped away some tears he hadn’t realised had fallen. He was usually so much better at controlling things like this. Of course, when it came to you, he found he couldn’t control much of anything, anymore.

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, baby. I’m sure.”

“Okay.”

You shut off the water and stepped out of the shower. Bruce was close behind. You grabbed a towel off of the towel rack. He leaned down so that you could dry his hair. When you were done, you gave him the towel so he could wrap it around his waist. You then grabbed your own towel.

As he watched you wrap your towel around your body, he thought about how lucky he was to have you. It had only been a year since you had entered his life and very quickly and dramatically, you had changed it.

He stepped forward, pulled you close to him and kissed you. “I don’t deserve you,” he murmured against your lips. “You’re so good to me, I really don’t deserve you.”

You shook your head. “Oh, but you do, Bruce. You deserve so much. If anything, I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you.”

Bruce wanted to tell you that you were wrong, that it had always been the other way around, but before he could you shut him up with a kiss.

“Come on, pretty boy. We should get you to bed, you need the rest.”

He didn’t argue and let you lead him to bed. His last thought, before he fell asleep with you wrapped up in his arms, was that he was definitely going to have to return the favour, for what you had done for him tonight.

#bruce wayne #batman #batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #batman x fem!reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader #my writing #1k

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kehrer24thilo · 1 year

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second chance - pedri gonzalez

warnings - fluff

A/N - first imagine, wish me luck. y/n = your name. y/r/n = your roommates name

“i was over him” you said to your roommate as you paced back and fourth in the kitchen. “i was like fuck him! fuck him, fuck him! i had pushed him out of my mind and doing my own thing making my own name.” you placed your head in your hands and sighed before looking my best friend in the eyes. “ but then we both happened to be at the same place at the same time and the minute we made eye contact that was it, just like that i wasn’t over him any more.”

EARLIER THAT DAY

you arrived at the barca store early morning in order to pick up my order for my little brothers birthday in a couple days, it was busier than normal, queues were piling up as the minutes went by. heading towards the security man who i’ve known since i moved to barcelona when i was 10 years old. “Jim what’s going on.”

“hello love, it’s been a while but Barcelona fc are putting on a work shop. do you need something.”

“whose here from the work shop and yes i do i have a parcel to pick up.”

“it’s pedri turn today and ok i’ll send you through with matt.”

my body froze at his name, pedri? the same pedri. y/n of course it’s the same pedri who else do you know who plays for barca and called pedri. being shook out of my shocked state by matt.

“come on.”

“wait i need a favour, make sure pedri doesn’t see me.”

“why, i will but is there any reason.”

“not in particular so let’s go, i need to get home.”

being guided around the floods of fans waiting to get their belongings signed hoping that you wouldn’t get noticed but come on y/n don’t be an idiot, many fans know you because of him. you got to behind the till and was ready to make a run for it and get home to relax but life isn’t that easy.

fans did notice and as much as you love them and this point all i wanted to do was good home and eat ice cream. quickly making your way to the exit smiling at a few fans but one comment from a fan made you turn around and as you did his eyes caught onto yours, his eyes that held so many memories.m, the memories that a flooding backing in. frozen in your spot not even computing what the fan said, all your brain was telling you was to run and get out of here. if your gonna stay it won’t be for the best.

arriving at home in a panic, scaring your roommate. “y/n what is going on”

“i saw him, like probably saw him, i’m taking eye contact for 1 minute saw him.”

“ok what then”

“and then i ran, and i look so ugly from behind.”

“i know you’ve blesses everyone’s eyes.”

“girl now is not the time.”

“why did you run”

“last time i stalked him for you, he was on a lads holiday for summer break.” your roommate said.

“i know that why i’m so confused on why he was here.”

“is that the only reasons why you are confused.”

“yes” your roommate give you the look of ‘bitch i know you better than yourself don’t lie. “ok i was fine without him my career is going well but as soon as i locked eyes with him the world stopped exactly like the moment i saw him first but i’m telling myself i can’t do it again.”

your phone buzzed but you ignored it. “why can’t you do it, what is stopping you.”

“work, life, myself. he broke up with us because he wanted to focus on himself which i understand but what i didn’t understand was him completely ignoring me and pretending like we haven’t been together for more than two years.”

“have you tried speaking to him.”

“nope, well not since after a month after the breakup when i just gave up on him, us.”

your phone was now blowing up wondering what the hell was going on, opening the instagram notification swiping to the bottom when one notification stood out.

PEDRI followed you

PEDRI wants to DM you —> ACCEPT

strings of curse words replay out of your mouth as once again you start pacing, your roommate asking what’s wrong over again unable to tell her you show her your phone as her eyes dance over your screen as she realises her eyes dart to your both not knowing what to do. before she takes control and starts typing on your phone, not being able to process what is happening you don’t do anything about it knowing you should.

“you’re meeting him in 20 mins at the cafe down the road. and you are not saying no, it’s been two long and you need to talk so go clean up and go.”

“yes mother.” there was no point in arguing with her she was too stubborn for her own good and nothing would get past her.

AT THE CAFE

the familiar ring of the bell that alarmed when the door opened, heading to the back booth the you both always sat in when neither of you could sleep, it was a good job it is 24 hour cafe. not many people were here apart from the usual, hoping that he wasn't sat in the corner of your booth so you could calm the nerves that were flying around in your stomach but of course your luck wasn't on your side as he was sat there not looking one bit different at all, his hair was styled the same way, the way he dressed was the same although he did need to change it up every now and then.

noticing you he stood up to greet you, looking at you before pulling you into a gentle hug before taking a seat again. “so you finally decided to meet me.” he said picking the skin on his finger a habit he knew you hated.

“wasn’t my choice y/r/n made, she’s the one who messaged you.”

“it doesn’t surprise me that it was her but kind of wish you agreed on your own accord and not hers.”

“well i am here ain’t i, if it wasn’t for her then i don’t know if i would have actually messaged you back.”

“mmh.” there was an awkward silence hanging the air before you both tried speaking at the same time causing even more awkwardness as you both agued on who spoke first eventually it was decided that it was you.

“i don’t want any interruptions ok.” you said firmly earning a nod off of him. “i wanted call you, just to see how you were doing but i couldn’t, i can’t talk to someone who held my heart then pretend it never happened.”

“i wanted to ask why it was so hard to get over you, i wanted to know if you felt the pain like knives in your side like i did. i wanted to know if you ever felt lonely when you heard a song or something reminding you of the memories we made.”

“i wanted to say that i couldn’t remember the sound of your voice when you called out my name or the fact that our last kiss wasn’t anything like in the movies that it was so brief that wind had swept it away before i’d have a chance to remember as a memory. i wanted to explain how now i’d forgotten everything apart from the way you made me feel like i could conquer everything and anything.”

taking a deep breath. “so yes i wanted to call you and miss you but instead i sat on the floor and drank shots like they were tea, to be honest in that moment i didn’t know if i still loved you but the again you have to love someone to miss them that fucking much.” by the time you had finished your side of the talk you were out of breath, tears tried to escape you eyes.

moving across the booth to sit next to you, he slid in next to you. “it’s you.” he said looking into your eyes. “you’re the one i want, you’re the one i want to come home to after a bad match, you’re the one i want to roll over to in the middle of the night and wake up next to everyday for the rest of my life. you’re the one i want to take on breakfast dates before we both go our separate way or take you out on a night because i haven’t seen you all day.”

“you’re the one i want to go out and have fun with, take a hike through the woods or by the lake, you’re the one i want to stay in with and build forts whilst watching Disney, you’re the one i want to love and hold when times get tough. All my good day, all my bad days you are the one i want to spend them with. you are it. and i swear to you i have never been so sure about someone in my entire life so please let me back in even if we take it slow.”

you were speechless, you knew he were telling the truth, you know him better than himself and he hates to admit his feeling so to see him do this for you probably makes everything worth while. “i don’t want to take it slow.” you shifted your body to be facing him. grabbing his hands to stop him from picking at his skin. “i want you know, i don’t want to wait.”

his hands found your cheeks as yours found his neck, your eyes flicker from his eyes to his lips the tension building up before both of you couldn’t take it anymore, your lips met by a gentle and passionate touch. fire spreading throughout your body. oh how much you missed his lips. coming back for breath a smile on both of your faces making this a memory you won’t forget

#kehrer24thilo #pedri gonzalez #pedri #pedri gonzalez imagine #barcelona #barcelona fc #football image

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monkayemporor · 6 months

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“I didn’t want this!”

Synopsis: fem!Lorenzo (aka possum) and her parent 😱😱😱

Cw: Talks of plastic surgery + reader doesn’t like Lorenzo (at first)

Featuring: Fem!Lorenzo and Gn!Reader

Wc: 660

NOTES: I SWEAR IM WORKING ON EVERYTHING ELSE (lie)

“I’m gonna get plastic surgery.”

“Excuse me?”

Looking up from your phone, you were faced with Donna Lorenzo. And her usual shit-eating grin. Under normal circumstances, you would’ve indulged her, but this wasn’t a normal situation. Considering how she wasn’t even supposed to be here.

A few weeks ago, your friend Snuffy had dropped off some kid at your doorstep, explaining how she wanted you to take care of her. Of course, you had vehemently refused. And could anyone blame you? This girl looked like…well something. A freak would be the proper term.

Rotten teeth, terrible hygiene, and her overall eccentric personality. You were so sure that you wouldn’t be able to deal with her. And what was Snuffy’s excuse? That her job as a pro would keep her too busy.

“Can’t you just…I don’t know…buy her an apartment or something? You have a shitload of money!”, you had pleaded, but Snuffy had explained she didn’t want to leave Lorenzo alone.

Sure, you could’ve refused. And if it had been anyone else, you would’ve. But this was Snuffy, your dearest friend. So, against your better judgment, you took Donna Lorenzo in.

Living with her though, was certainly an…experience. From following you around your place, messing with your stuff, barking like a dog, and mooning over the weirdest boys on your computer.

“Isn’t he just the best?”, she asked, an image of some gothic-looking boy open on the screen.

Sipping on your coffee, your nose wrinkled, “Ew. No. Just no.”

Just what was wrong with her?

And now you were here, with Lorenzo proclaiming that she was going to get plastic surgery.

“So, you want bigger boobs? I thought those were like bad for football or something.”, you said, clearly confused. Lorenzo shook her head and sat next to you, a bit too close for comfort though.

“Nah, I just wanna get rid of something.”

Vague. You momentarily wondered if you should push for more info. But why bother? She was old enough to get one and it wasn’t like you were the one paying for it.

But…

What would Snuffy say? She would probably want you to ask. Sighing, you placed your phone on the table and looked Lorenzo in the eye.

“Just what exactly do you want to get rid of?”

Silence suddenly filled the space and you noticed the defender avoiding your gaze. Odd.

“Well…”, you trail off, trying to find the right words to say as the teen girl perks up. “You’re not that bad looking. So I don’t see why you need to get plastic surgery.”

Lame. That was the best you could do? Screw it. You never wanted kids in the first place.

Instead of Lorenzo mocking you though, she simply laughed, showing off the golden grills you very much hated. “I’m not sayin' that it was terrible, but it was!”

In defeat, you slumped on the couch. Screw Snuffy. But just as you were about to leave the room, Lorenzo suddenly spoke up.

“Still…thanks…”

Well, now this was awkward. What were you supposed to say? No problem? Nahhh.

“You’re cute looking—like a possum!”, you suddenly blurted out. Why were you doing this?! Just why?! The younger girl tilted her head, “Possum? Ya, mean those ugly rat things?”

“They are not ugly!”

“Are too. And that means you're calling me ugly!”

“Stop putting words in my mouth!”

Arguing with Donna Lorenzo turned out to be quite tiring. And at the end, you were laying on the couch, side-eyeing her, “Look. Just, don’t do it. You’re perfectly fine. And you may be kinda gross, you’re not that gross to need plastic surgery.”

It was quiet for a couple of minutes, you staring up at Lorenzo as she stared right back. Her shit-eating grin was visible, “Dah, fine~”

“Oh.” You weren’t expecting her to listen. Now what? Do you just leave? Or…

“Am I still a possum though?”, Lorenzo asked.

“Definitely yes.”

“You’re weird.”

“Look who’s talking.”

#Don Lorenzo x reader #blue lock x reader #gender neutral reader #blue lock fluff #Don Lorenzo

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totowlff · 1 year

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extra — breaking point

➝ the hardest part of a fight is realizing you're wrong. again.

➝ word count: 3,2k

➝ warnings: none

APRIL, 2017

Toto clenched his jaw, his heart pounding in his chest. He had just sat down in his usual seat on the plane, facing Elisabeth. After what she said to him, though, he didn’t have the courage to look at her. Her voice was dense with rage as she let her true feelings be known.

Toto was fully aware that he had wronged her. He’d found out about Mercedes’ intention to enter the 300 SL into the Mille Miglia in January, when Ola had paid a visit to the factory in Brackley. Toto was enthralled with the idea and offered to drive it immediately. The car was a work of art on wheels and his thoughts became consumed with the idea of driving it in such a storied race. However, as soon as he and Ola returned to Toto’s office, Toto remembered a very important caveat.

He needed to talk to Elisabeth.

He and Elisabeth had a long-standing agreement regarding Toto being invited or volunteering to participate in a race of any kind, he would talk to her first before agreeing to participate. It was a compromise they came to after a long conversation after the first race of the season the previous year, in Australia.

Both of them were exhausted from jet lag after returning to the UK. Toto brewed himself a cup of chamomile tea and sat down to watch The Godfather — his favorite movie — to try to relax. He checked the time on his phone and realized that he hadn’t seen Elisabeth emerge from her office for a few hours after she told him that she wanted to catch up on some work. He brewed a second cup of tea, hoping he could entice her to put her work down and come relax with him for a while.

As he carried both teacups upstairs, Toto heard a strange sound coming from Elisabeth’s office. He opened the door in a hurry, causing some of the tea to slosh out of the mugs. He saw Elisabeth, her face buried in her hands, sobbing.

He set both mugs down and knelt in front of her. He caught a glance of what was on her computer monitor, finally understanding why she was crying. On the screen was video of his crash on the Nordschleife in 2009. The video was paused at the moment he stood up and got out of the car.

He didn’t actually remember unfastening his harness, unplugging his radio headset, taking off his gloves, stretching his back, and leaping over the tyre barrier on the side of the road. He’d sustained a heavy concussion, so his memories of that day were spotty, but the sole surviving in-car camera managed to record everything. The circuit’s medic found him passed out behind the barrier, still wearing his helmet and HANS device.

— Why are you watching this, Liesl? — he murmured. He took Elisabeth’s face in his hands and brushed a strand of hair away from her face.

— I kept thinking about what happened to Fernando over the weekend — Elisabeth answered — I kept looking at the video of his crash, thinking how much worse it could have been, how he could have died there, right in front of us.

Indeed, a nasty crash between Fernando Alonso and Esteban Gutierrez had happened that weekend. It was ugly, but both had emerged unscathed, and walked away from the incident uninjured. Both were fine. It still didn’t explain why she was watching the video from his own accident.

— They're fine, Liesl, you saw them in the paddock. They both got away without a scratch.

— I started thinking about how dangerous this sport is, Toto. Then I started watching videos of other accidents, seeing what happened with Senna, with Ratzenberger, and then I got to the video of my father’s accident, and then yours — she managed to say, before her voice broke and more tears ran down her face.

He pulled her into a tight hug. Toto was not proud of what had happened on the Nordschleife, quite the opposite. Looking back, he found himself having to agree with what Niki had said to him after he'd told him of his intention to try to do a lap in less than seven minutes in a GT car. Niki had said it was idiotic.

However, his fascination with the track prevented him from seeing the dangers of the endeavor. He was determined to do the ultimate Nordschleife lap, to put his name in the record books and Nurburgring history. However, watching the only record that Mike, the videographer that set up the in-car cameras had recovered of his attempt, Toto was sure what he’d done was mad.

It ended up costing him not only a few thousand Euros to replace the damaged video equipment, but his own health. He had to sleep sitting up for a while afterward, because laying down made him too dizzy. He sustained nerve damage that meant that he couldn’t taste or smell anything for six months. It took him almost a year to recover completely.

— Elisabeth, that was just one time. It was a stupid idea, and I’ll never try something like that again.

— But you like to drive, you like to race. What if something happens somewhere else? I... I can't bear to lose you...

Hearing those words broke his heart.

— You will never lose me, Elisabeth. Not even to my dumbest ideas.

After calming her down, Toto led her into the living room. They snuggled on the sofa and sipped tea, considering his adventures in racing a settled matter, having mutually agreed to have a discussion before he would participate in anything. That was the deal he'd so recklessly ignored by offering to drive in the Mille Miglia, and the catalyst for their current discussion.

Neither of them spoke to each other for the remainder of the flight, nor did they exchange so much as a glance. Toto gave her tentative glances, but the look on her face — the pursed lips, the furrowed brow — and the way she sighed deeply, made it clear that she was in no mood to talk. The silence between them persisted for the drive between the Oxford airport and their house. Elisabeth drove, and Toto didn’t dare argue about it. After they pulled into their driveway, Toto walked around to the trunk to remove their luggage. It was all fairly bulky; they’d spent two weeks away from home, and neither of them were particularly light travelers.

While he removed his suitcase from the car with ease, Elisabeth seemed to be having some difficulty. It didn't surprise Toto, as she always made a point of taking practically the entire house with her for doubleheaders.

— Need help? — he muttered, as she struggled to lift one of her suitcases over the lip of the trunk.

— No — Elisabeth replied dryly, before giving one last tug and heaving the luggage to the floor. Still frowning, she carried her suitcase and her purse into the house, her heeled footsteps echoing through the garage. With a sigh, Toto grabbed the handle of his own luggage and carried it inside.

After dropping the suitcases in their bedroom, he passed Elisabeth again, who was still struggling to pull her luggage upstairs. Toto thought about offering to help again or even picking up the bag and taking it to their room, but something told him to not engage. It would only make things worse between them.

Toto walked into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, taking a few sips. Toto's mind began to wander, remembering the fights he had with Stephanie that culminated in the end of their marriage. They were almost all about his constant absence, about how he was missing important moments in the children's lives and about how much he was missed at home.

In a way, it was like watching the same movie again, even though Toto was much more present in Elisabeth's life than he had been in Stephanie's, especially in the later years of their marriage. In his reflection, he spotted a constant factor in both relationships.

He was terrible at communication.

Toto sighed and took another sip of water before heading upstairs.

In the bedroom, he found Elisabeth dropping her bags in the closet, her head down. The sight made his chest tighten.

— Are you going to shower now? — he asked, attempting to break the ice.

— You can if you want — she replied quietly — I'm going to take a shower in the other bathroom.

Toto blinked.

— Why?

Elisabeth looked up at him, her blue eyes icy cold.

— As far as I remember, Torger, we don't owe each other satisfaction — she said. Her voice was biting as she took a pair of panties from her dresser drawer and left the room, leaving Toto frozen to his spot. He thought about going after her, admitting he was wrong and apologizing for what he had said, even though he still didn’t feel like he was completely in the wrong.

However, there was something inside him that prevented him from leaving the room. Without thought, he dropped the water bottle on his bedside table and headed into the bathroom for a shower, got dressed, and collapsed onto his cold, empty mattress.

It felt wrong for Elisabeth to be sleeping in another room, like a violation of some law of nature. Toto couldn't bear the thought of sleeping away from her, even when he was traveling alone. The knowledge that she was so close, but so distant, made him remember the days when he thought that what he felt for Elisabeth was just an earnest friendship. It was torture seeing her, hearing her voice, catching the heady scent of the sweet perfume she wore, and not being able to do anything about it. He fell asleep with a dull ache in his chest.

The next morning, Toto woke up and stretched his hand toward Elisabeth's side of the bed, seeking her warmth in the sheets. He didn’t find it. Opening his eyes slowly, his fingers closed with a fistful of fabric between them, feeling a tightness in his throat.

He was hit with a surge of determination as he jumped to his feet. Things couldn’t stay this way.

After brushing his teeth and changing into sweatpants and a T-shirt, Toto went down to the kitchen, thinking about what he could make Elisabeth for breakfast. However, he was surprised to find her already awake, dressed, and choosing a coffee capsule to put in the coffee machine.

“I guess we’re skipping breakfast”, he thought, as he approached.

— Good morning, Liesl — Toto said, trying to disguise the nerves in his voice. She looked over her shoulder, before going back to analyzing the capsules. She didn’t say a word — Did you sleep well?

She made a sound that sounded affirmative.

— Are you going to the factory this morning?

— Yes — Elisabeth said, as she selected a capsule and closed the cabinet.

— I thought you'd go this afternoon with me — he murmured, leaning against the kitchen island.

— I changed my mind — she replied, as she fetched a mug to put her coffee in. Toto raised his eyebrows.

— You never go to the factory in the morning after the races.

Elisabeth didn't say anything as she found the mug she was looking for. Her silence was enough to make Toto angry. He furrowed his brow as he felt annoyance prickle across the back of his scalp.

— You could be a little more mature and talk to me, Elisabeth — he snapped.

— And you could take your own advice, Torger — she murmured, as she abruptly closed the lid of the espresso machine, mashing the “Start” button. After making a few noises, coffee began to drip into the mug.

— Elisabeth — Toto sighed.

— As far as I know, the entire conundrum we’re in started because you decided to not talk to me.

— How many times do I have to tell you that I forgot, and it was wrong of me? — he asked.

Elisabeth turned and advanced toward him, trying to get in his face. He was leaning against the kitchen island with his arms crossed.

— You forgot to tell your partner that you’re going to Italy to race an old car? Do you really think I'm going to believe that?

— It's not an old car, Elisabeth, it's a Mercedes-Benz 300SL.

— From 1952. That’s a pretty old car, Torger

— Stop calling me Torger — he growled.

— That’s your name, isn’t it?

— But I don't like the way you're pronouncing it.

Elisabeth gave a wry laugh.

— Now is there a way to pronounce your name, Torger? — she asked, putting emphasis on each syllable — Should I put more emphasis on the O or the E?

— You should stop acting like a child and talk to me seriously, Elisabeth — he spat, emphasizing each syllable of her name. He couldn’t help but take her bait, it seemed.

— And how can you be serious when you ask me to believe that you forgot to tell me that you're going to be away for who knows how long taking part in a race?

— That’s exactly what happened, Elisabeth, and I’m being serious! — Toto exclaimed, gesturing with his hands.

Elisabeth shook her head and turned back to the counter, where the last few drops of her coffee were falling into the mug. She picked it up and sipped the hot liquid.

— Liesl — he said softly, almost pleading.

— Do whatever you want — Elisabeth murmured, without turning around again to look at him— We don't owe each other satisfaction anyway.

Toto felt a rush of feelings as he stared at her back. He felt guilty, he felt frustrated, he also felt hurt. He was trying, he wanted to patch things up with Elisabeth, he wanted to be a better partner with Elisabeth than he had been with Stephanie. He didn't want to fail again, least of all with her.

However, Toto's will alone wasn't enough, especially when Elisabeth wouldn't even look him in the face. She had to give in too, at least a little. But she didn’t — not later that day, not even for the rest of the week. “I just had to fall in love with the most headstrong woman in Austria”, he thought, staring at her empty pillow for the fifth night in a row.

Then, the door opened.

The sight of Elisabeth entering the room was like seeing the sun after weeks of rain. Her expression remained stony and serious, her eyes focused on the floor. The warmth of hope rekindled itself in Toto's chest. Perhaps she had reconsidered the silence, the anger, the disappointment. Maybe she was willing to at least talk to him. Maybe his stomach would stop dropping every time he asked her a question and was met with silence.

Elisabeth went into the bathroom and closed the door. After a few minutes, came back out into the bedroom and sat on her side of the mattress, looking at her phone for a few minutes before setting it on her bedside table. Then, she laid down and sighed, but her back was still turned to him.

— Liesl?

She did not answer.

— Liesl — Toto repeated, his voice in a sad tone — Please…

He saw her shoulders move, as if she had taken a long breath.

— I know I messed up. I know I should have talked to you. I know I said harsh things. But — he hesitated for a few seconds, searching for the right thing to say — I want to make it up to you. Let me fix things, Liesl. Please.

Elisabeth remained silent and motionless. The pain in his chest grew, as did the tightness in his throat. Toto wanted to cry with anger at himself, for having hurt the love of his life, the woman he trusted the most and with whom he wanted to spend the rest of his life.

— Good night — he whispered — I love you.

His monologue seemed to have softened Elisabeth’s heart, at least a little. The following day, she began to answer questions that were not related to work. However, there was still very little physical interaction. Usually they would kiss or hug frequently and at random, but they hadn’t touched each other since their fight started.

Until that night.

As they were going to bed, as soon as Toto turned the lights off, he heard something sliding across the sheet, and the warmth of a hand against his back. He rolled over and his lips found hers, soft and warm in the darkness, longing and desire guiding their blind exploration.

— Let me turn on the light...

— No — she whispered — Don't… Please…

He blinked, confused, before Elisabeth went back to kissing him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his T-shirt, pulling it up to remove it. Then she shed her nightgown, then his pajama bottoms. She climbed on top of Toto and he allowed her to take control, feeling her lips run over his neck gently as her hips moved against his cock, like she was teasing him.

It didn't take long for her labored breathing to turn into low, almost strangled moans, as the darkness of the room was filled with the sounds of her wetness and bodies bumping into each other. It was like having Elisabeth back again.

Almost, at least, because the reality was completely different.

After they climaxed, Toto felt her body collapse onto his. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead and remained silent, trying to absorb what had just happened, his body begging for more after days without attention. The idea of coming inside Elisabeth again made him stiffen again inside her. He felt a primitive desire to mark her, to make it clear that he was hers and no one else's, to show the world that the only woman who would ever have him, body and soul, was Elisabeth.

However, Toto felt her body stiffen suddenly. Then, she got off him and went back to lie next to him on the bed, her breathing a little strange.

— Elisabeth?

— Let me sleep, Torger — she murmured, her voice sounding a little choked.

That was the last time they exchanged any kind of caress until that Tuesday in May.

With his bags packed and waiting for him in the entrance hall, Toto went upstairs to do the most difficult part of his trip to Italy, which was to say goodbye to Elisabeth. He hesitated in front of her office door for a few seconds before knocking. After waiting a moment, he opened it silently and walked into the room.

Elisabeth's office wasn't large, but it was elegantly decorated. The table where her notebook was was decorated with a potted plant, a lamp and a framed picture of the two of them with Benedict and Rosi. Beside it was a bookcase filled with books, arranged by color.

— Is there a problem, Toto? — she asked, looking over her shoulder.

— No, Elisabeth. I just came to say goodbye.

The room was deadly silent as she turned to face him.

— Well, see you later — Elisabeth said, forcing a smile.

It was clearly not what Toto had expected to hear.

— Is that all you have to tell me?

— Have a nice trip, I hope you have fun with Aldo and your old car in Italy — she added in a monotone voice.

Toto sighed, swallowing his defeat. However, instead of leaving the office, Toto approached her in slow steps. Then, he leaned over and landed a kiss on her cheek.

— See you on Monday — he muttered, turning away and leaving the office and his heart behind.

#toto wolff #formula 1 fic #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 x oc #formula one fic #formula one fanfic #formula one x oc #wlffog #scwlff

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0perfectimperfections0 · 10 months

Note

Hi fellow doll, I hope you're doing fine. I've been quite busy lately, college and life in general have been kicking my ass, so I was forced to take a step back from social media for a while to try to contain the chaos.

Firstly, I'd like to share a fun fact with you! I don't know if you're aware but did you know that Lou's Mansion has a Pool? You can see it more clearly in the Mansion's Concept Designs/Art on this site:

•https://www.claytonstillwell.com/ugly-dolls#23

However, the real reason for this ask is to present a possible answer/theory in regards to how the doll-sized phones came to be in the world of your stories (you can tell this is still related to our chat on Wattpad).

Recently, I came across the images you're seeing on Pinterest. They're Wide/Aerial Views of the Institute of Perfection and one thing that immediately stood out to me is that Giant Eye-Catching Dome behind the TV.

I mean what's its purpose, why is it even there to begin with and what's inside of it? I've been thinking about this for a while and would like to hear your thoughts about it as well, if you're willing to share them.

By any chance, have you seen the movie Wreck-it Ralph? There was a part where the villain enters the code of the game he's in and I think the Dome's purpose could follow a similar, if not equal, vein.

Now that I think about it, Lou and Vanellope's circunstances are almost identical, trapped in the same place for years without the option to leave, simply because of who they are and the traits they were born with, but didn't choose to have.

Sorry, I let my mind run on tangent there for a while, it wanders frequently which makes it hard to keep track of my line of thought.

To circle back to the main topic of discussion, what if the Dome is a Central Station of the Institute, like a Panel or Center for Command Control (or Command Control Center)? CCC for short? Ok, I'll stop trying to be funny...

Perhaps it could be a subroutine of the factory's software, a program linked to its network and wifi that contains all guidelines and rules that govern the Institute and must be followed and executed to keep it functional - a blueprint if you will - and is in charge of all commands, protocols, activities and operations being compiled and run by its machinery, such as the doll-scanner, the robots, the washing machine, the recycling, the Gauntlet plus the mechanical baby and dog and the Portal, just to name a few.

This means that it'd also take care of overseeing the integrity and performance of said machinery as well as its maintenance. It'd even be responsible for generating clouds and the artificial weather because apparently weather is still a thing, even though the Institute is inside of a factory.

I wonder if this subroutine would be run by an AI or simply an intelligent system/computer program. This world's version of Siri? 🤣

Or maybe I'm greatly exaggerating its function/letting my imagination run wild and it literally only gives Electricity for TV and Institute. Where was I going with this? /were we again?

Morever, it could be a storage unit that contains all collected, analysed and reviewed data regarding the inhabitants of the Institute and their responses, physical or emotional, to certain pre-determined stimuli.

It could also have a list of the factory's Perfection Standards: what consists/constitutes a Perfect Doll / product, its traits...

what can go to the market and which flaws/imperfections can't be ignored/overlooked and have to go to the recycling immediately, kinda like separating fruit/food

To sum up, it's the Institute's "rulebook", but instead of being specifically made for the prototype, it's more expansive and focuses on the Institute as a whole.

After the events of the movie, dolls with engineer role job created phones with recicled parts dangerous/turned the recycling into a good thing/while recycling was turned of and parts are human sized, plenty to spare and create phone since dolls come back now, have free time to assemble the parts and construct them and connected them to the signals/frequency emitted by the dome or they hack/steal or find out the password/'hijack' the signals🤣, use it to make them connect with each other but can't enter the dome without proper authorizations/permissions

Fun fact #2: Lou animatronic, would be a hipocrite if he called the Uglydolls "Ugly" has never seen a Mirror before

•https://www.indigobluepencil.com/ugly

Scroll almost to the middle (pre-planned concepts: dome by TV and washing machine, Big baby, Lou, Mandy, Tuesday and Kitty, Victoria, Perfection Council/of Dolls=board of investors directors reference)

•https://www.scottfassett.com/uglydolls-gallery

Had to restart Two Times... I hope you found this ask both entertaining and informative. Hopefully it'll give you Inspiration for your stories...

Okay, I had to do quite a bit of research and asked someone who knows a lot more about computers than I do.

So, I do agree that the dome has an electronic purpose. It really surprises me that STX animated an entire dome within the Institute and literally spoke nothing of it or what's inside of it. Like, seriously, it's huge and can't just be empty on the inside.

My theory, after some research, is that the inside of the dome is essentially a hard drive computer tower. For you younger folk who weren't raised in a 90's home, here's what I'm talking about:

These things right here used to be what would get hooked up to older Dell/Windows computers. The ones that weighed, like, 50 pounds and took up an entire desk.

Instead of a dvd player (which I didn't get one until maybe 8 years old) I would stick my Kidz Bop cd or movie into that slot at the top and watch the movie on the computer with Video Player.

Count your blessings.

But this is what I believe is inside that dome. These things are what holds the CPU (central processing unit), GPU (graphic processing unit), and stores the memory, data, audio, and everything of the computer.

@natalie-the-writer and I have a running fanon that the company is older. The technology is older, the building is older, and everything is set in a pretty retro time period. So, this hard drive tower is connected to those bulky take-up-all-the-space-on-the-desk-computers.

The GPU in this system is also what control the day/night cycle in the Institute and the weather. It essentially simulates a troposphere and an environment that makes the dolls comfortable and prepared for the Big World.

The CPU is how the data is transferred. Info from the robots is controlled and processed, the Individualization scanners are monitored, the portal is opened and closed, the TV runs, and the holographic tutorials Moxy and her friends see in the beginning are kept on, all of it.

It basically functions as the brain of the Institute, but the sole controller and monitor of it is the CEO (Greyson Everett).

I also like to think that Lou's microchip (another fanon thought between Natalie and I) is also monitored via this hard drive tower. Any information that Lou learns and processes is sent into separate files on the computers back in the company building.

This is why in my Shell-Shock series, when Lou's emotions go south, the Institute begins to get windy when he's hyperventilating or rains when he cries. The ground trembles when he has body tremors and the lights flicker when his powers are used. He is literally connected to the whole Institute because his microchip and its data accidentally grow and manifest themselves into the files of the other Institute functions. His programming basically goes rogue and infects the Institute system like a virus.

I'm veering toward the explanation that results in Lou being the first successful form of Artificial Intelligence. But, for the moment, he is basically acting like a virus and it's not until he learns to control this new system he's connected to that it stops becoming a deadly thing.

#uglydolls #lou #writing #ask #answer #theories #fanon theories #feel free to have your own thoughts #I'm just ranting #this is so interesting thank you for asking this

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nemobeatrice · 4 months

Text

The Golden Miners - Chapter 11: The Pink Guy

If you want to reblog the GIF without the fic, reblog this.

FF.net

Quotev

Wattpad

Fugo woke up in his room and was about to get dressed when he saw a note on the floor near the door. It was from Giorno, saying that his dad found a house nearby. It had the address on it, too. Great, he thought, we can visit each other without driving. The note also said he wasn't here and he'd be helping unpack all day.

Okay, so Giorno wasn't going to be here. Fugo can survive. Good thing he's friends with Narancia. He texted him and waited for a reply. Usually, Narancia replied right away, but he was taking his sweet time. Well, he needed to change his clothes. However, he received nothing from his best friend after changing.

Something probably occupied Narancia's attention. For now, he got on his computer, having YouTube and Tumblr open on two different tabs. Then his phone rang, but the caller was Trish. What did she want now?

"Yes?" Fugo answered.

"Hey, are we that pink-haired guy?" Trish asked. "You know, Doppio?"

It all came back to him now. "Oh yeah. Unfortunately, Giorno isn't able to help. He moved into one of the houses here."

"Oh, well, at least Mista's replying to our text now."

Fugo had managed to see Mista's texts but was too tired to read them. He checked it now, and Mista left apologies for being unresponsive.

"So, about this search, why did you call me to help find—what's his name—Doppio?" he asked.

"Well, Mista said you're the smartest person. He'd figure you'd track him down. Go on, Google him."

Fugo rolled his eyes and did as she commanded. "Ugh, I keep getting places of coffee shops. Do we have any more details about this guy? I need to know if Doppio is his first or last name. Also, the exact city he resides in would be nice."

"How am I supposed to know that?"

"This is your problem."

He heard her sigh. "Okay, then let's ask Mista. He knows Prosciutto, who knows Risotto, who knows Doppio."

"Alright, then call him."

"Ugh, you're supposed to be the information gatherer. Fine, well, Narancia's angry with you."

"Uh-huh, sure."

Trish sighed. "And I'm angry too. But, unlike Narancia, I'm angry with both you and Giorno. You guys are rich enough to go to Disneyland and should've invited us."

"Why are you mad at us? We can't just ask for a bunch of money from our parents!"

"You're right! I hate your parents. Yeah, and even Giorno's dad!"

"Hold on. Can we get back on topic? If that's true, why would Narancia be mad at me?"

"I'll tell you if you give me the information I need."

"Ugh, fine! I'll call Mista." Fugo hung up on Trish and called Mista. "Hey, are you there, Mista? I need you to help me out with something."

"Oh, Fugo. It's you," Mista said, sounding depressed. "Sorry for not answering your calls and texts. I made everyone worry, didn't I?"

"Yeah." Formaggio was right. Prosciutto must've broken up with him. He wasn't sure how to approach this and was nervous. "Could you tell me about any of Prosciutto's friends?"

"Oh, sure." Mista sighed. "Formaggio seems alright. He's in a relationship with Illuso, a stuck-up prick. Pesci is Prosciutto's ugly little friend. He creeps me out. Melone's hot, but I think Ghiaccio, some guy who reminds me of you, is dating him. Then there's Prosciutto's boyfriend, Risotto. Not going to lie, he's hot as fuck. I guess I shouldn't be so upset he broke up with me. I would, too. I can't tell who's hotter, him or Giorno's dad."

Fugo almost barfed. "Um, could you tell me more about Risotto?"

"Did you and Giorno get into a fight or something? Risotto is a little too old for you."

"What? No! Oh my god! Just tell me about Doppio, the guy he was dating!"

"Sheesh, don't get your panties twisted! I met up with Doppio—oh, that's his last name, by the way—and he tried to get with me. Before I could agree, I asked him for his age, and he said he was 33. Dude looked like he had just turned 18! What the hell kind of anti-aging cream does he use? It's probably expensive. I turned him down. He seems high-end."

"What's his first name?" Fugo sounded impatient.

"Vinegar. Yeah, strange, I know. Hey, don't you find it's weird how we're named after food?"

Fugo ignored his question and searched Doppio, finding zero results. He used other search engines, and still nothing. "Does Doppio live in Italy?"

"Yeah, I assume somewhere in Sardinia. He sounds like he's from there. Why?"

"Ah, it's nothing. Where is Doppio usually? Do you have his contact information?"

"Sorry, but I don't know where you can find him, and he didn't give me his contact info."

"That's fine. Later." Fugo sighed and hung up on Mista. He dialed Trish, and she answered. "I need to confirm something. Your mother met your dad in Sardinia, right?"

"Yes, Costa Smeralda, to be exact," she answered. "Did you find him?"

"Not exactly. I can't find where he lives. His name is Vinegar Doppio, and he's 33. Mista assumed he lived in Sardinia. That's it. That's all the information I have."

"Thanks." Trish sighed. "I don't know what to do. How will I find him?"

"I would've told you if I knew that. You're going to do this by yourself."

"Except I'm not going to do this by myself. Besides, Narancia wants to help, and I think you guys need to fix what's going on between you two. This might be a great way, and Narancia isn't smart. He'll need all the help he can get. Let's—"

"Now, hold on!" an angered Fugo interrupted. "Narancia may be bad at math, but that does not mean he's a burden to the search!"

"You're right. I'm sorry. Let's meet at the beach. It's not too hot to go on a search."

Everyone except for Giorno was at the beach. Narancia didn't seem too happy with Fugo and tried to wedge Mista between them.

"Alright, everyone," Trish started, "Doppio isn't here, so we'll search all of Naples for hints or clues. Now, we'll split the group into two. I'll be with Sheila while you boys do whatever you do."

"I may not be the smartest," Narancia said. "But I won't be an issue. Do I need Fugo with me?"

Before Trish could answer, Fugo glared at him and interrupted. "If there's something you want to say, say it."

"We're going to go now," Trish said, taking Sheila by the hand and running away."

"Wait!" Mista was about to go after them but stopped, looking at his two friends arguing. "Hey, can we work together?"

"Did you enjoy the beach without us, Fugo?" Narancia questioned.

"I wished you joined us, but you just had to play Just Dance for hours!" yelled Fugo.

"You would've joined us if you weren't Giorno's little bitch!"

"Excuse me?"

"You've been spending so much time with Giorno that you've ignored us! Right, Mista?"

"Do I have to answer that? Could we please find Trish's dad?" Mista avoided.

"Ugh! Whatever. I supposed we should head to Risotto's house." Narancia took out his phone and typed away. Fugo caught a glimpse of Risotto's address in the Google results.

"How'd you know how to search for people's addresses?" Fugo asked.

"My Twitch chat told me one time. When you were off having fun at Disneyland without us, Formaggio doxxed me."

"I didn't know. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well, whatever. I know where Risotto lives. Hmm, this neighborhood isn't so friendly. Luckily, I know friends who live there."

"Oh, those questionable friends who abandoned you?"

"Shut up!" Narancia threw a punch at him, but Mista gripped his arm before it made contact with Fugo's face.

"Stop, guys!" Mista separated them. "We're making a scene here. You're going to get the cops on us. Cool it! If we're lucky, Abbacchio might show up. Do you guys want to be lectured by him?"

"No," the boys answered.

Narancia sighed. "Let's just get this over with. Don't talk to anyone in this neighborhood. I hope Trish and Sheila don't follow us. I heard a few horror stories. You guys watch the news, right? Sometimes, the newscaster would talk about how bad it's over there."

"I hardly watch the news," Mista said, "but I got it. I brought a gun with me, just in case. Prosciutto gifted me his revolver." He let them have a peek at it before putting it away.

"Mista, I never asked if you're alright after the breakup. I'm sorry. Are you broken up with him?"

"I'm a little sad, but I'll be fine." Then he blushed. "Besides, I want to look at Risotto again, hehe!"

"The neighborhood isn't far. That must be why Risotto took Doppio here." Narancia grinned at Fugo. "Wow, you took Giorno near a dangerous neighborhood and didn't know? That's not like you."

Fugo clenched his fists. "Enough! Let's go."

The walk wasn't far. Fugo had never noticed the tall, grungy apartments because cleaner and well-maintained buildings hid them. New graffiti overlapped with the faded and ugly ones. Some were almost washed away. As for the people, unsavory people watched the boys. Fugo felt like someone was watching them and got closer to Narancia, but the black-haired boy coldly shoved him away.

"Dude, hug Mista. He's the one with the gun," Narancia whispered.

"Don't worry, Fugo. We're almost there," Mista said.

He wanted to look back to see if they were following, but Mista checked for him.

"Hey, you alright?" he whispered to him.

"Yeah, I think I'm just paranoid," Fugo answered, continuing to whisper.

"Can't blame you. You may be loaded, but you dress badly."

"Now that I think about it, I think I'm safe. You guys spend your allowance on expensive clothing."

"Seriously? Shit, no wonder why I felt eyes on me!" Mista panicked, no longer whispering.

"Mista, calm down!" Narancia ordered. He pulled out his pocket knife. "Where's Risotto's apartment number? If you guys are going to be pussies about this, I'm going by myself."

"And leave you by yourself?" Fugo said. "No."

"Quit pretending you care about me."

"Shut up!" Mista demanded. "We're near his home. Quiet!"

They stopped near a door. Fugo noticed signs of a break-in and some dried blood on the door frame. He moved the welcome mat, which covered more blood.

"I'm scared," Fugo admitted.

Risotto opened the door. He was tall and looked unamused. It seemed his presence intimated Narancia, seeing as he dropped his knife and bumped into Fugo.

"Mista?" Risotto spoke, and the two boys noticed their friend blushing furiously. "Who are these two?"

"H-hi! Um, do you know where Doppio is?" Mista asked.

"He went to meet a blond guy he met this morning. I don't know who. And before you ask Mista, it's not Prosciutto. He's with me."

"He's here? Um, do you guys want company?"

"Mista!" The two boys jabbed his stomach.

"Ouch! Okay, do you know this blond guy?"

"No," Risotto answered. "But I've seen him. He's the toughest guy I've ever seen. And before you go, I think that guy might be a tourist."

Before he could close the door, Mista put his foot in the doorway. "Do you have his number, Twitter, anything?"

"Doppio's tough to contact. He'll contact you when he wants to. Can you leave?"

Mista unlocked the door and left the neighborhood with his friends.

"So, all we have is a mysterious blond guy," Narancia said.

"And he's buff," Mista added.

"Don't tell me who I think it is," Fugo said. He got his phone out and called Giorno. "Hey, GioGio, what's your dad doing currently?"

"I'm not sure," Giorno answered. "I finished unpacking, but he wasn't helping me. Instead, he enlisted an army of his friends to help. It's ridiculous! Also, I have no idea where my mother is. Should I text him?"

"Yes."

"Okay, hold on. I just texted him. I'm waiting for a reply. Is there a reason why you need him?"

"Remember that pink-haired guy we saw at the beach? We might think he's Trish's dad and might be with your dad."

"Her dad with my dad? What do you mean?"

"Dating. They're together. That's what Risotto's saying."

"No, that can't be. My dad is with my mother. They're out there somewhere doing something." Fugo heard the doorbell ring through the phone. "Hold on. I think my dad is home. Hey, Dad, your friends— Oh no. Um, where's Mother? You broke up with her? Is that why you brought home this guy?" It sounded like Giorno was moving. "Hey, babe, you need to get over here."

"Thanks. I love you!" he said before hanging up. "Ugh, now I need to call Trish."

"Hey, I think I'll head home," Narancia said. Fugo knew him well enough to hear that sad tone in his voice.

"Hey, Narancia, I'm sorry for fighting with you."

He sighed. "I just want to be alone right now."

Fugo looked at Mista, hoping he'd know what's up. He didn't. They let Narancia walk away.

The four of them arrived at Giorno's house around 1 PM. Fugo rang the doorbell. Hopefully, Giorno heard the door. It sounded like he was having a party.

"Do you think Giorno's got food?" Mista asked. "We haven't eaten lunch."

"Sorry, I guess I was so caught up trying to search for my dad," Trish apologized. "Hmm, don't you think it's strange how Giorno's dad had vacationed here for a week and already has a house here? Can he do that, Fugo?"

"Trust me. He can," Fugo replied. Someone like Dio, who lived for a long time, must have friends in high places. He wondered what he could get away with.

Giorno opened the door. "Oh, guys, you're here."

"You just moved in," Trish said. "How have you finished unpacking?"

"Well, my dad called his friends here. And no, they're not from Japan. They're from Egypt and the other parts of Europe. I think that Hol Horse guy is from America. I don't know. He has guns and kind of dresses like a cowboy, but enough about them. I saw that pink-haired guy with my dad. Follow me. Close the door."

Trish got inside first. Fugo closed the door once everyone was in.

"Dude, Narancia's room looks nicer than this," Mista commented, looking at the beer bottles on the floor. "Are you sure you've finished unpacking?"

"It wasn't like this," Giorno explained while walking to the room where Dio held the party. "It got rowdy so fast. But Trish, how do you know if Doppio is your dad?"

"Well, I had this feeling at the beach. Do you want to know what's funny? Formaggio thought Doppio was my brother. And I'm getting that feeling again. I may not trust Formaggio, but I do trust my gut."

"Hey, Trish," Sheila said. "Formaggio said Doppio is with Giorno's dad—Dio, right? Um, does that mean Giorno's kind of like a brother?"

Mista laughed. "Hehe, Giorno and Trish are step-siblings! Why do I find that strange?"

"Wouldn't my dad have to marry Dio for him to be my stepbrother?" Trish asked, looking at Fugo.

"I'm exhausted to answer this. We've had a long day and gone without lunch," Fugo replied.

"My dad ordered pizza," Giorno said. "It'll be here soon."

They reached the door. Giorno opened it, and once he did, everyone in the room looked at them. They were all adults except for one. As for Dio and Doppio, the pink-haired man sat on his lap, making out with the blond, who squeezed him tightly. They stopped, realizing the silence filling the room, and turned to face them.

"Aw, I thought the pizza was here," Doppio whined.

"Shh." Dio planted his finger on Doppio's tender lips. "That's just my son and his friends." He looked at them. "Giorno, I said this party was for grown-ups only."

They eyed the only teenager in the party. The teen had a beer bottle in his hand.

"Except him. He's an exception. He was basically a baby, haha!"

"Um," Trish spoke up, making eye contact with Doppio. She struggled to get the words out, but there were too many people. They all looked at her with piercing stares. "Never mind," she said before leaving.

"Was she talking to me?" Doppio asked.

The doorbell rang.

"Giorno, make sure the girl doesn't get the pizza. I don't want her to eat it," Dio said.

"She hates pizza," Sheila informed.

"Giorno, get the pizza. I'll take care of Trish," Fugo said.

Fugo rushed to Trish, finding her in a corner, curled up in a ball and trembling. "Are you alright?"

She jumped and turned around. "Oh my gosh! It's you! Sorry, you surprised me. Gees, there are so many adults in there. They don't need to hear my business, and seeing Dio make out with my dad was weird."

"Yeah, it's weird. Maybe you should confront him next time."

"How will we even know if there will be a next time? It seems impossible to contact him."

"You're right, and I don't think we can ask Dio. He doesn't like you, it seems."

The two heard Sheila's footsteps. "Sorry, I had a few words with Doppio. He says he finds it silly that you're his kid, but once I showed him a photo of your mother, he had a headache and went to the bathroom. I'd follow him, but Dio yelled at me. What do we do?"

Trish sighed. "Let's just go home. Turns out this was just a waste of time. Oh, and Fugo, before we go, are we streaming Minecraft tomorrow?"

"Yeah, but I feel Narancia is not on board," Fugo answered. "He's been hostile towards me."

Giorno held boxes of pizza stacked onto each other with a salad bowl on top and walked across the halls. "You guys hungry? We can't eat with the adults, but we can head to the dining room."

"Oh! A salad? Who ordered that?" Trish asked.

"Mariah did, but I don't think she'll mind if it disappeared." He smiled, handing her the bowl.

"Ah, you're the best!"

"Hey, where's Mista?" Fugo realized he disappeared again. "Don't tell me he's in the party room."

Sheila facepalmed. "He has to be. He's 18, isn't he? Giorno, get him out of there so we can eat with him."

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #giorno giovanna #pannacotta fugo #fugio #fugo x giorno #giorno x fugo #jjba fanfic #jjba fanfiction

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ihatebnha · 2 years

Note

I went to bed after encouraging you but blue lock icks would be SO good 🎤

so did i, queen! took a nap on my mom's bed like it was an olympic spork and i was winning.

anyway. i only did Gagamaru (for you), Nagi (for that one anon) and Kunigami (for me) bc I wanted to test the waters, but... hope u enjoy regardless!!!

(warning: icks)

Gin Gagamaru

Picks his nose without a tissue

He’s not even doing it to be gross, like he really does want to clean out his nose… he just… won’t use a tissue and says there’s no need to bring him one

Wears basketball shorts from middle school. They barely go down to mid thigh, holes in the ass and everything

Also has severe knife butt and complains when he’s been sitting for too long

You try to brush his hair and it’s all split ends. And he really doesn’t give a single care about it, either. Like... it’s a non-concern for him

Does that dumbass man shit where he’ll walk faster than you when you’re on dates or walks together

Hiking is also a nightmare because he will leave you behind. It’s barely intentional but you’ll stop to have a sip of water and before you know it’s he’s 50 yards ahead of you and hasn’t even noticed you’re behind him

All his socks have holes, too. All of them. You can literally catch him going to bed with one whole big toe sticking out of them

And he literally does not appreciate when you get dressed up. Thinks you’re hot, sexy, attractive, yeah, whatever… but he thinks that all the time, so any effort to look even better is just going straight over his head

“You didn’t have to do that :)” energy. BUT GAGA, I DID

And lowkey you know the joke about the most beautiful girls who walk around with men in jorts and a t-shirt… That’s y’all

Omg and his heels are constantly sticking off the back of his slides and he does that weird thing where… all his sneakers that aren’t in nice condition for soccer… are being crushed inward because he’s too lazy to tie them up regularly and just shoves him foot in😭

And if it looks even remotely like you won’t be able to finish your meal (even if it’s barely been ten minutes), he’s offering to finish it for you

Couple's yoga is a nightmare because even if you’re good at it… he’s better :(

Rensuke Kunigami

Wears the ugliest fucking slides known to man. It’s so bad, no logo or brand or anything… just straight up foam and plastic that get so dirty and make his feet look freaking awful

Incapable of like… not being nice to you. It’s great most of the time, but then he refuses to pick a restaurant, or which shirt he thinks you should wear to dinner… or when you’re going too far in an argument

It does get better with time, but even when he’s grumpy he’s just sitting there pouting all :| because he doesn’t want to cause any problems

And is definitely one of those guys who tries to handle all his own problems himself. You really gotta fight him to make him think that it’s okay to rely on you

Which is ironic given that he’s always demanding that you let him help with all your problems

But that’s what I mean… he’s NICE!!!

And he may be loyal asf also but he definitely does not badmouth any of his exes. He talks about them like they’re his friends, which is fine because they were probably lovely… but it’s like… Ren… why can’t you just say they’re ugly or SOMETHING

Refuses to delete pictures of them off his phone, too… which is actually kinda funny because they’re all old and bad quality, but still. You Do Not Need Those

He’ll also like, LMFAO, try to snatch your phone or computer away from you if he thinks you’re ignoring him. Literally take the device from you no matter what you’re in the middle of, including assignments or work

And when he try to get it back, he refuses and is like, “computers are so bad for your eyes, you know? We should go for a walk instead”

There are other ways to ask!!!

Drinks green smoothies that taste TERRIBLE though he refuses to admit it. He’s constantly trying to convince you they’re so good even though you can tell he’s forcing himself through it for the health benefits rather than the tase

And his farts are also always disgusting, too. For such a perfect guy, it almost seems like all his flaws (and rage) get channeled straight to his guts because they’re absolutely rancid every single time even if he feels so bad about it

Seishiro Nagi

iPad baby (watches his phone at the dinner table sometimes)

Forgets to clip his toenails until you remind him. It’s not even intentional it’s just like… not on his mind at all so they get really long and weird

He always seems grateful for the reminder… but it’s like, Nagi… how and why did you even let it get this bad :(

He does that thing where you’ll say goodnight to each other and then fifteen minutes later you hear his Nintendo switch booting up

And he’ll do it after sexy time too, like ???

He also always forgets you have work/obligations. He’s constantly telling you to skip your shifts as though that’s not almost impossible

“What do you mean you can’t skip work? Just say you won’t go in???”

I don’t want to say he’s a picky eater… but his palette is very childish. He’ll eat grown up stuff but it’s so funny because he just does it in such a boyish way

You guys are talking about what’s for dinner and he’s like, “hm. Can we have rice?”

NAGI? YES???

Literally cannot conceptualize why you’d ever be insecure. You confess to him you don’t like some part of your body and it’s just, “oh, but I like that part” and he genuinely thinks that fixes it

So not helpful

He’s also a great listener… but can’t provide any advice when you’re in a fight with your friends. You can tell him about it all you want because he likes hearing it, but… he’s really not gonna say anything useful about the situation LOOOL

Doesn’t say excuse me when he farts. He’ll just… ignore it completely

And this is Reo’s fault but… he’s really bad when it comes to picking up hints

You try to pull a smooth… “oh, I’d love to go to the beach!”

And he’s just, “Aw well, I hope you get to one day :)”

Really bad at watching films he didn’t pick. Either you’re bored and he’s instantly turning it off, or you’re enjoying it and he’s trying to turn it off anyway

Also… he lets you go through his phone anytime you want to, but… all his twitter likes are strange and his texts with friends are practically incomprehensible.

Has the weirdest taste in memes.

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commandermeg · 3 months

Text

Tiny House Challenge of Doom part 1

So I've been playing 'The Sims 2' and here's a little bit of what's gone down.

Be warned, it gets utterly ridiculous, because it's the Sims 2.

I have a nice, big lot and decided to do a 'Tiny House Challenge' the likes of which I'd seen youtubers do before.

In this case, my rules were simple. Build a tiny house that would suffice for *one* adult sim....

.... and cram as many sims in it as humanly possible without my tablet computer crashing.

So I made sure there were like, a couple bunk beds up in that loft thing just to prevent everyone passing out at once.

(I would later learn that four bunks aren't enough for 12 sims. Who could've guessed.)

Bonus points for whatever brave soul sleeps next to this ugly thing.

As time went on, I added a few more sims here and there. Usually just snatching up townies who walked by.

The place was well decorated, and everyone had high environment scores to start out with.

However, the Sims 2 being the Sims 2 - eventually the infamous 'Bathroom Bottle-Deck of Doom' began.

Hilariously, I hadn't realized that the Sims could see through glass and it had this result whenever someone would use the bathroom.

Every. Single. Time.

I'm laughing so hard writing this that I'm in tears

It was at this point that I realized that upon deleting the door, my Sims had no way of disposing of trash.

The can was outside the front door.

Dave began to grow concerned.

The Bathroom-bottleneck-of-Doom continued to provide annoyance

Luckily for the Tiny House Challengers, a few of the folks had higher cooking skills, enough to keep everyone fed.

At least with food in them, most of the Sims socialized and enjoyed the amenities that the tiny house had to offer.

It was at this point that they reached a small level of simbiosis (see what I did there?) and I debated adding a few more Sims.

I decided to wait.

Tensions (and the trash pile) grew, eventually resulting in a scuffle

At least their gym skills went up

Through exhaustion or sheer bravery, one Sim claimed the owl bunk

Unfortunately, with so many people sleeping in front of the refrigerator and stove, the first Sims started to drop.

At least Karl tried to save his friend...

This guy really just doesn't GAF about anything. He's surrounded by trash, complaining sims, and all he wants is his salad.

So apparently all he knew how to cook is 'Chef Salad' and it made the other sims sad.

It was around this time that the ghosts started popping up.

Now, there's a feature in the Sims 2 where ghosts of Sims will hang around their favorite object/possession in life. Or at least the place where they spent their happiest times.

At least, that's the running theory for whatever the heck led to THIS completely bizarre scene playing out.

JUST. WHY.

Sir, that's a toilet. You're cheering at a toilet.

MOVING ON

At some point, one of them managed to destroy that other red armchair, leaving one mini-sofa between the mass of them. The trash pile, dishes, and number of complaints continued to grow.

If you hit 'fast forward' while the sims are complaining, their voices get really high-pitched. It's hilarious.

I.... I don't know what's happening here.

So instead of going upstairs, Punk-Rock-Man decided that the floor was the best napping location.

The guy curled up on the sofa looks happy though.

Punk-Rock-Man got scared to death by the toilet ghost, which saddened everyone for the span of about ten minutes before they started falling asleep in their salads again.

Sims falling asleep in their food will never not be hilarious.

Things began to escalate quickly after the Repo Man took their sink.

Without somewhere to put the dishes, the environment score quickly tanked.

Whole lotta sims croaked.

Meanwhile, did you know that the Grim Reaper has a funky lil cell phone? How fun!

Some guy fused with the stairs. He ended up being (somewhat) fine, but it was pretty weird while it lasted.

So that's it for PART ONE of the Tiny House Challenge of Doom part 1 - because I managed to reach the photo limit. I'll be writing the Part 2 here in a few minutes. Stay tuned!

#NOT STAR TREK #Sims 2 #Megs Tiny House Challenge of Doom #I've been very stressed at work and needed to laugh at something #turns out Sims challenges are pretty funny #Sims 2 and the chaos they bring

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emilieautumnarchives · 10 months

Text

Stark Raving Sane: Biscuits

Posted: June 29, 2023 Archived from EAOnline

Biscuits: Mixed Media - Digital and Acrylic Paint, Audio, Scent [mod note: image cropped due to tw:ed concerns, see full version below the cut]

Dearest Inmates,

I shared Biscuits a few days ago on the old IG (did it, sharing art/music/other secret artistic projects because anything more seedy will be placed here alone, but I do have a trick: I never post from my phone, but from the very large screen computer that I use for recording, because I usually don’t know where my phone is, but really because then I don’t lose my wide vision of reality and goodness and truth and compress my focus into a tiny little screen which makes me spiritually nauseous—I highly recommend this).

I shared Biscuits, which was begun whilst we were traveling to location scout recently (this is why starting projects on an iPad before going to physical is so bloody nice), but I hadn’t been ready to say anything about her or what she might represent.

I think I might be now, or I may (probably will) delete this post in five minutes.

Biscuits has no tits and neither do I at present. I’ve lost them, along with my arse, and most of my muscle mass, because that’s what happens when you’ve got an auto-immune issue and it hurts to eat because your body is attacking itself. (I never say auto-immune “disease” because it’s an ugly brown and I don’t like the way the “s” that is really a “z” feels in my mouth, and it also sounds unnecessarily dramatic and that embarrasses me). I prefer not to talk about this. With anyone. I will fix it. I am fixing it. And I will be able to sing and dance. And that is all.

Biscuits has all the trappings of femininity, except for her actual body, which is clearly missing a few things, and that’s how I feel. A woman but not. And it doesn’t make me sad, but it makes me curious, because there is something beautiful in each layer of identity that is peeled off, or flakes away on its own without anybody’s doing, as we go down this path of life. I suppose what I’m really settling into is that I am not my tits, nor my womanhood, nor my ability to fit into my fabulous pink wardrobe, but am rather just me. I have not changed, because the “I” that is “I” can never be anything other than what it is. But I could do with a few more calories.

Biscuits needs a biscuit. Biscuits needs a few. I hope someone gives them to her.

To see more of her, tap away:

BISCUITS - FINE ART GICLEE PRINT [mod note: yes, EA has this linking to "Vampire's Daughter" instead of "Biscuits."]

I’m going to go try and digest some keto ice cream. It’s salted caramel. May you do the same, dear friends.

#stark raving sane #blog #blogs #2023 #tw:ed #tw:eating disorder #tw:autoimmune disease #emilie autumn #journals #journal entries #journal archives #musical era

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crazy56u · 7 months

Text

In a refreshing change of pace from last season, I actually have to leave after the episode airs, so, here we go:

Last time on Quantum Leap: "Surprise, bitch, it's been three years, and Addison left your ass for some other guy!"

Meanwhile, in Vegas.

"Um, okay, I hate to bail on poker, but it's turtle time. (leaves without elaborating)"

It is bad that I briefly thought Magic was working at that jewelry store?

Ah, there's the rub: The plot started back up due to Ian breaking into the Project.

"He's been out there for three years. You can tell the time skip is an important part of the plot if we keep pretending it's 2026."

"This all feels familiar." It's almost as if it's Quantum Leap.

A good sign you're at a bank: The teller abruptly talks about three years having past.

Oh, that fucking beast of a computer...

And Ben shows how much he's learned by immediately going on break.

[And one of my biggest gripes of the revival rears its ugly head: Unless they explicitly state the exact date, we get shit. Seriously, even if it doesn't matter, just flashing the date on screen isn't that much too ask, man...]

"Quitting whatever job he has for some get rich quick scheme." ...like robbing the bank?

"There, we did 3 minutes of exposition, 2 minutes of leap, one minute of bank robbery. We deserve a commercial break."

Meanwhile, in COD.

Plot twist: In 2026, we're in the middle of World War III.

[You better fucking not, Dodgeball Boy...]

"Raise your hand if you are dead." It would be a fucking brilliant plot twist if it turned out Addison was secretly in Purgatory this whole time.

"They found him. Guess you shouldn't have flushed your wedding ring."

And meanwhile, back at the bank robbery.

Ben is about to get shot due to not knowing what a dye pack looks like.

Why does your little brother look like Dexter?

"I don't understand. What do you mean it's 2026?"

"He's been alive this whole time? You mean I flushed my ring for nothing?!"

"What do you think I should do?" "I think you should listen to your heart." "... ... ...so, like, dump you, and go back to him-" "N-not what I meant..."

Ian, you had the Imaging Chamber working last time, why is it on the fritz now?

The Pentagon pulled the Sam Beckett maneuver: "Okay, so, the leaper is missing? (yanks funding)"

"Ziggy says you need to get the bad guys out of here before the cops arrive. That may or may not require you to help finish the robbery."

Surprise, the town is poor, you have all of the money.

And here comes the cops! Now it truly is a Dog Day Afternoon.

Look, maybe if you let the hyperventilating woman leave, you will have a better chance of surviving.

"Ben, if you don't pick up that phone, everything will be fine-" "Pick up the phone, got it."

That is a skinny ass fucking revolver.

Detective Reynolds, why are you trapped in the Green Dimension?

I love how you can tell how pissed he is that Ben decided for them they were gonna start releasing hostages.

I technically called it: Hyperventilating Woman is one of the two.

"Okay, we released a woman and a guard, we can leave now, right?"

Time to get nice and cozy with a little game of "Vault Code or Broken Hand".

... ... ...did that guy faint, or did he die?

Sean looks like he can be taken out like Glass Joe. Ma'am, just clock him.

"Okay, I'm the guy with the gun, so I get to deliver the exposition."

[I have a sinking suspicion that Ben was supposed to have leapt into the sister...]

"Hey, Sean, you're doing good, don't get me wrong, but if anyone's gonna threaten your sister with a gun, it's gonna be me-" "I AM BEN SONG, YOU SHOULD BE TALKING TO ME, MY GHOST CAN GET YOU THE CODE, PLEASE DON'T SHOOT!"

Okay, Ben, you got four numbers, good luck, the Project's under arrest now!

Well, Ben, you got 10 tries, good luck! "They completely lock it after three tries!" ...like I said, good luck!

Ben, gotta admit, playing the menopause card is a bold move.

...makes sense: Three tries, the last digit is three.

"Hi, my name is Tom, and this is Addison, I say you can't arrest the Project anymore. My dad works at Government, here's a phone."

Look, to be fair, Risk is a bullshit boardgame.

"Good to see you, Addison, Ben is currently in the middle of a bank robbery."

"Look, Magic, I don't know what you have planned for the Project-" "You mean, besides what we did last season?"

"You okay?" "My brother fucking pointed a gun at me, what do you think?"

Okay, is it bad that I forgot that Ben is supposed to be a grandma?

"Come on, smile, we're robbing a bank!"

Guy, no offense, but you are a fucking idiot if you think the cops are gonna let you leave with the money.

Sean, you are a fucking idiot if this surprises you.

"(shows Ben on screen) And we're back." SUUUUUUBTLE.

"You're in the middle of a hostage situation. I'm not up to speed. "Ben's in a bank robbery. (begins shoving Addison into the Imaging Chamber)"

"Ma'am, you do know we're gonna kill the robbers if they try to escape, right?"

"... why do I feel like there's a camera in this direction?"

"So, what, now eight people die?" "...not eight total..."

And you can just fucking tell the cops refused to accept any blame for blowing up the bank.

"Hey, why does this bank look bigger on the outside?" "No, you had to call off the expansion and paint over it!"

"You got any rooms with no windows?" …a broom closet?

Okay, now they are in the office, Ben can start doing The Great Escape.

"Look, I know I'm supposed to be in my 70s, but shut up, today, I'm as fit as a 30-something from the 2020s. Let's break that wall!"

[I like to think that Raymond Lee ad-libed that bit with the wall. He just wanted to break something for fun.]

"I buried Ben, Jen. I took all of his stuff out of the apartment and buried it in the park. Everyone watched in confusion, Jen."

"I keep expecting you guys to point out how bullshit the Tom subplot is." "Look, Tom stopped us from getting arrested. This week, he gets a pass."

"Okay, everyone out- why is there a hole?"

And Sean decides to kill a man. That's how you know he completed his character arc.

"Sean, it's gonna be okay." "How?" The cops are breaking in, that's how.

"Look, either I kill myself, or I go to jail, either way, I lose!"

Sean, let your sister cover your ass.

"I won't take another step without you!" Meanwhile, Ben is thinking "Gee, why isn't Addison here for this?"

"Ian, you and I both know you lied about how you found Ben." "Jenn, we stopped a bank from exploding, and Addison and Tom have their stupid subplot. Can we just not do more plot shit today?"

[I still think the season's gonna end with Ben undoing the time skip; unless proven otherwise, Tom is a ghost to me.]

"Are you gonna tell Ben about us?" "He already knows."

"Boy, I'm sure glad I saved Sean and stopped the bank from explod- did Addison fucking leave me, is that why she never showed up?"

"Ian told me it's been three years. Yes or no, did you leave me for a Tom?"

"Ben." "…oh." And there's that dramatic reveal for ya.

And Ben does the smart thing and hits the eject button.

["Look, I know we dumped all that plot shit on your this week, but, like... next week has aliens, w-will that work? We good?"]

I had to switch to WordPad 3/4ths of the way in, that's how you know we're so fucking back.

But no, seriously, $5 even that Ben undoes the time skip.

#ben and teller #spoilers #quantum leap #dexter #dog day afternoon #risk #the great escape

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paperw0rmz · 1 year

Note

wut's a trend from the 90s/early 2000s u wanna see make a comeback? :0

THANK YOU FOR ASKING

For those who don’t know Hi I’m Grave and I am obsessed with 90’s-2012 things and have archives and logs of media, specifically web, of things from those eras

1:Radio shack

As someone who is getting into ham radio and also just misses being able to get funky little add ons to computers and shit, I think we should all as a collective demand a radio shack. “Oh bUt yOu hAvE bEst bUy” I will literally slit your throat if you are dumb enough to think that that ugly wanna be ikea shit is anything remotely similar to big daddy Radio Shack

2:Chatrooms

Was I way too young to be on them back when they were popular? Yes. Did that result into trauma? Yes. But I’ve learned my lesson and now I want this shit back so bad. I LOVE chat rooms. “YeAh wE hAvE dIscOrd aNd DMS” ITS NOT THE SAME FUCKING THING AND YOU KNOW IT.

Bring back chatzy, bring back IRC (I’m active on a few), I’m even on Wireclub if anyone wants to join my chat rooms there!!! And pesterchum

3: physical copies of media

I hate streaming services. I hate it. There is nothing but zombie glossy eyed, let’s market to the brain dead, shit on there. Like yes, I love some of the shows, but we have lost so much shit from moving to streaming services. Remember on a VHS or DVD where you could watch behind the scenes, bloopers, play movie/show related games all on a tape/disk???? It’s the same with any physical music media too. I think it makes you more so focused on what entertainment you actually like. Too many people just like things because it’s popular or trending, which is fine, but when it comes down to it do you actively want to OWN something physical from the media? If not then is it something you’re willing to put time into then? Why not do something else?

4:Arcades

I’m not talking about that Dave and buster shit. I’m talking not scam (at least not as bad as it is now) arcades that was on every Main Street, in every mall, like in a mall now of days is a small as shit arcade if it’s NOT Dave and busters. I hate Dave and busters mainly bc they ruined a genre. It was marketed as a arcade for adults but then they added kid I pad games and now it’s just an awkward overpriced place to be where you can see a seven year old play cross road or angry birds on a glorified I pad and also see grown men get shit faced drunk.

5:MAGAZINES

Literally so hard to find good magazines now of days. Especially for a cost that won’t fucking kill you. I managed to get most of mine second hand, but it’s so hard to find anyplace that sells magazines especially ones that are to kids without being too babyish. I go to a grocery store and if I look for a young girls/boys magazine it’s about very YOUNG things to the point I don’t think the market audience can even read??? That or it’s just guns or gardening. Which is cool, but there isn’t anything for teenagers really anymore. Like yes there are, but you have to sign up online for it which is fine, but I miss being excited to go to the corner store to see if there is any latest addition of the magazine I loved there.

6:social interactions

You would jus stay outside or inside right next to your phone/computer waiting for someone to come by and tell you where everyone else is at. Like having to go walk to every gas station and corner store to see if your friends are there and getting excited when they are actually there. I am thankful for being able to easily like meet up with people, but like the feeling you get when you run into people and then go fuck off is so fun

7:The video games

Video game quality has gone down hill. I’m not talking about highly detailed story based games, no. I’m talking about app games, free to play games, all that shit. It is now a click bait, league clone, or clash clone. And it’s BORING. It’s all ad based and trying to suck as much money from you as possible and it’s all so ugly in that ugly 3D art style.

8:intelligence

*insert the tweet about how if you say you like waffles people will just assume it means you hate pancakes* people today do not have common sense anymore.

9: sense of community

#coquette #grassfromthegardencore #corefromcore

Like yes, back then was also elitist, but not as bad and forced as it is now. So many people today are so focused on aesthetic labels instead of just focusing on what they just like. Like yes, labels are comforting, but to the point you’re desperately asking what aesthetic this is so you can then throw out and change your aesthetic to match it and then repeat over and over? Gross.

10: early web memes

Memes arnt long lasting today as it was back then. There aren’t even memes today. Just a tiktok video that was posted on Twitter. I hate it.

#ask #anon #fun ask #autism #90s #y2k

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xxlovleybellaxx · 2 years

Text

Y/N headcannon {asking crush out}

(this is a boy version but ill make a girl version of the crush soon)

(sorry if some words are spaced out its because my computer isn’t working right)

It was you and your friends walking around the school, until, you bump into him!!!! you fall in his arms and he holds you in a romantic way and you get up and run to your next class. after class its lunch, so you and your friends go to your table and eat. you see him walking to an empty table and sitting alone and then you see him put his hood up. you wonder why. pov:*why is he sitting alone???*. You get up from your table and say you need to go to the bathroom but you go check on him. he says that his friends aren’t here today. and you say “can i sit with you? he says in a very cute voice “ yeah....sure”. you immediately get butterflies in your stomach and you quickly sit down and then you and him talk for a little bit until After lunch you realise that your friends were watching you as you and him were talking and you say “ill be back ***** i need to go get something from my locker. you take your friends to your locker and you start to yell at your friends and then he comes over and says “ hey **** i gotta go but can i get your number? “sure....why not” he gives you his phone and you give him his and then you both walk to class. A few classes later your packing up your stuff and heading back to your class to wait for you bus. then you see him running to you and asking if he can have lunch with you tomorrow. you accept the question happily. Its finally time, you thought. “is he gonna like me back?” “what if he calls me a rat or a pick me?” “or even a ugly atrocious monster?”. You finally put up the courage to ask him out tomorrow at school. Its the class right before lunch and you tell your friends your ready and they say “are you crazy or something, because our ***** wouldn’t do something like this?” you say “relax because if he doesn’t like me we can atleast still be friends. When its lunch you grab your lunch at sit at table 3, the table he texted you to sit at today and you wait for him and he comes with a card. as he walks over, you question him humorously. “Who’s the lucky girl?’ you ask. “someone for me to know and someone for you to find out”. you look at him in a irritated way. “fine...fine....ill tell you”. your friends come over and ask if they could join you and him. you agree and he does to. and then he tells you” open the card’. you open it and it asks the most heart stopping thing.....you look up to him and he asks ”will you be my girlfriend????

#y/n x crush

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andimgladaboutthat · 1 month

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How Many?

I suppose I've created numerous tumblr accounts through the years... mostly to be abandoned prematurely when things begin to go right. When things go wrong again, I try to find my way back into my blogosphere, only to discover that I've forgotten my account's password. (Fine. Not only the password. I couldn't even be sure of what email address I used or what the blog was even titled to begin with.)

How many? How many have I created? Is it five? Seven? Several, I know for sure.

And now - what's lead me here? I assure you, it is not despair, but apathy. I suppose that could be dramatic... a mild numbness has fallen over me like a fine mesh. The mesh is white and lightweight. This is a comfortable numbness, but not comfortable in the ways of being familiar. This is comfortable because it is unfamiliar - so unlike the stiff weighted blankets of anxiety and fear that commonly stifle my peace. This is calm.

This feels like lawful neutral.

Be specific. Why are you here?

Fine. My boyfriend (why do I hate that word? Is it because I feel like I should be married by now? Or is it because I feel others would take my plights more seriously if I were? Save that for another time, I guess.) and I were having a serious discussion about my daughter. We were discussing his potential future involvement with her as a fatherly figure (mostly in what his role should or should not be when she is in distress or misbehaving) when it got late. We went to his bedroom and I set something on his desk before turning to look at him as I was speaking. He glanced over my shoulder in mild, nearly undetectable panic. He hurried to the computer behind me to close out the things on the screen that he wouldn't have wanted me to see. But I did see them. It wasn't too bad. In fact, I'm glad it wasn't worse, but I cannot unsee the things he was searching. The woman he was searching, and the intimate state of which he was searching for of her.

I laid down in his bed immediately after. I wasn't sure how to react, because I wasn't upset. He laid beside me, feeling embarrassed and apologetic. He hid his face.

I didn't care. I didn't care so badly that I couldn't even think of anything to say. I only had feelings.

Flee.

So I fled. I told him I wanted to process things alone and in my own space. I told him I loved him, kissed him goodbye, put my phone on Do Not Disturb and I drove home.

My main feelings are how ugly and inadequate I feel compared to her. That's not his fault.

I wish I could get rid of my scars.

Her skin was flawless and smooth. I will never have skin like that again. Pregnancy was not kind to my body. Some women blossom through pregnancy beautifully; I am not one of those women.

My body is maimed.

Maybe I'll never feel worthy. Maybe this quiet numbness is eternal.

I don't want to face him about this. He asked me to stay for a moment to work through it and talk about it but I didn't want to. There's really nothing to talk about.

It's not abnormal for a man to want to see women that way. I can't be upset about that. I simply would rather I didn't see it. There's nothing to discuss.

I just feel blank. I don't know when I'll be ready to talk. I feel like I could go quiet for days in the still numbness. This mesh veil is buzzing over me.

#relationship #apathy #blog

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nickgerlich · 2 months

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Striking Up The Ban

I have many fond memories from the Summer of 2019. It was pre-COVID, and we were all blissfully unaware of how much our lives were about to change. It was when my employer, the Engler College of Business, was starting an MBA program in Beijing, and my Dean wanted me to go there to be the face of the program, and teach an introductory class session.

And since my daughters are both adopted from China, he encouraged me to take them along too. No arm twisting was needed on that one! So off we went to Beijing for 10 days, to teach, shake hands, wine and dine, and soak up a ton of culture.

But China is known for its “Chinese Firewall,” a government-imposed crackdown on western media. Turns out it is much more than that, as it also includes western social media, weather, sports…basically, anything American that we take for granted on our phones and computers.

Of course, when I read about this, I took it as a challenge, thinking that in the interests of international diplomacy and all that, the Chinese surely wouldn’t throw a friendly old professor in the slammer. So I downloaded a VPN service, shared it with my daughters, enabling us to post photos all day and night while we were there.

In retrospect, I bet the Chinese government actually wants western tourists to do just that, because we unwittingly became their marketing department, showcasing the Great Wall, Tiananmen Square, and many other cultural attractions. They were good with us doing the things their own people can’t.

Which, unfortunately, may very well become a reality for us here in the States. Just this last week a House panel voted unanimously to enforce a nationwide ban on TikTok, an unprecedented action for a nation that prides itself on the First Amendment. The American Firewall may be coming soon to a phone near you.

Now I understand the concerns, which prompted 34 states already to ban it on state-owned devices. TikTok is owned by ByteDance, a Chinese company some fear is in cahoots with the Chinese government, and therefore the app presents a security threat. It’s the same kind of thinking that concerns some lawmakers about Chinese-made cars being similarly risky for our security. Maybe that’s why BYD is exploring potential sites in Mexico to build cars, because we have no problem allowing Mexican-made vehicles into the US.

But I digress.

The House panel’s recommendation, were it to be passed as national law, would give ByteDance 165 days to completely divest itself of TikTok. If it did not comply, then it would become illegal for app stores to list it.

This is a very late and reflexive response after 170 million people have already downloaded it here. As long as there are not updates to the app, the old one will work just fine. Oh, and never mind the fact that if our government would go so far as to completely block TikTok on the internet and not just app stores, we could just use a VPN to sidestep that thorny matter. Point it at Canada or any other country where TikTok is allowed to be used freely.

I am not sure what kind of information these lawmakers fear that TikTok might be extracting from us at the individual level. It would be no different from what Facebook, CNN, YouTube, et all., might be extracting from Chinese citizens, were they allowed to use our services. I know. The Chinese government more than likely simply does not want its citizens consuming western news, entertainment, and general information, lest it paint an ugly picture of their homeland. But if TikTok could be spying on us, it means we could just as easily be spying on them.

Remember this point. It always pays to put the shoe on the other foot to see if your conclusion fits.

I have grave concerns over the panel’s recommendations. I am not worried in the least what China might learn about me. Heck, the phone I am using—an old iPhone 12—was made in China. My Alexa devices were made in China. Heck, I am surrounded by Chinese made electronic devices, and so are you, and any one of them could be spying on us.

But I doubt it. They would have better luck eavesdropping on our country by sending over weather balloons.

I understand the political expedience of doing something that has bipartisan support. Imagine that…both parties actually agreeing on something. I also understand that tensions are high between the US and China, and fear runneth rampant. Any measure aimed at these fears is seen as a good thing, even if it necessarily limits our rights.

It’s a slippery slope at bare minimum, and I am not in favor of it.

Dr “Think Long And Hard On This” Gerlich

Audio Blog

#marketing #TikTok #China

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primofate · 3 years

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Genshin Modern AU - Stress and Comfort

Summary: Woke up late. Missed a class. Forgot that assignment due. Another one due in two days. People are downplaying the things that you do. It’s raining and you don’t have an umbrella. Sometimes the little things pile up all in one day and it feels like all you want to do is to get it over with... and your boyfriend to make everything better.

Warnings: crying, stress, mood swings, other than that it’s fluff

Characters: Kaeya, Zhongli x gn!reader

Notes: Also a commission <3 Thank you for the love. Once again if you want something written for you I have cheap rates XD and I’ll always accommodate to your wants! Just leave me a message!

Kaeya

“Hey, Y/N, do you know how to write this part of the essay?” It wasn’t as if you were a particularly good student. But somehow, the people in your class liked asking you because you were accommodating. Ready to help with a smile on your face. Always there to turn to and rely on. “Yeah, it’s just like this…” and you spend nearly an hour explaining it.

“Oh gosh, I don’t think I can finish this part of the presentation tonight, something came up at home,” Group projects were sometimes difficult too. You understood. Things happened, but when they happened, you’d be the first one to say, “It’s okay, I’ll take care of it,” Even though the presentation is tomorrow, even though you barely get enough sleep for the next day. A part of you just wants to quickly get it over with.

“You said this would come out on the test… It wasn’t even there…” The worst part of it is not even receiving any thanks. It’s the way that they look at you when you make a mistake, despite all of the good things you’ve done for them, one mistake, and they make you out and guilt you to be a bad person.

“Your analysis is all wrong, Y/N. This part over here…” Sometimes the price of that was paying with your own grade. You try to listen as the lecturer explains a part of your essay. You’re listening, but it just doesn’t register in your mind. Something about misunderstanding the concept. Those concepts that you’ve tried so hard to remember and to understand. In the end they were all mixed up and confused.

Perhaps the lecturer sees the deflated look in your eyes, and ends quite happily. “Just do better in the next one!” pats your back and lets you leave, handing you your essay graded with a C.

Do better in the next one. Easier said than done.

You shove the paper in your bag without giving it a second glance.

The cafeteria. It was slightly late for lunch but you like it that way. There weren’t a lot of people at this time, which meant you didn’t have to fight for seats. Still, as you put in your order and bring your tray of food to the nearest seat that you see, you somehow bump into someone who topples over your chosen lunch, the tray completely doing a flip and landing on your chest, then on the ground with a plop and rattle.

There’s an ugly stain on your shirt. Forget about hiding it, it had to be washed. “Oh my gosh I’m so sorry,” and yet they can only stare at the stain. What else could they do? Dabbing it with wet tissue would just make it worse. “It’s…fine,” you wave them away, but you leave the mess on the floor in a hurry and in an embarrassed state.

You sigh once outside again. Deciding that today was enough, you make your way home.

Even then, as you sit at your study table, all washed up and changed, sketching a little something on your tablet, your mother stands at the door, observing.

“…What does that do for you?”

You jump a little in surprise and turn, looking at her blank expression. “What does what do for me?”

“That, your drawing. You’re always on the computer or tablet Y/N. If not that, then your sketchbook. That’s all you ever do,”

You turn around because you don’t want to argue. You don’t want to hear her complaining about how you do nothing but stay in all day after lessons and play games and draw. It was one of the biggest forms of comfort you had for yourself and yet she--

“Maybe try a part time job or join a club or some—”

“Mom, I’m still trying to adjust to uni,”

Why does no one understand how difficult it is to juggle the classes and do all the readings required? Why do I have to do so many things all at the same time? Can’t I do it when I choose to and when I’m ready? Can’t I do things that I enjoy?

“The degree you chose won’t even pay the bills…” You hear her mutter as she walks away. Footsteps receding into the hallways.

You push your tablet away and lay your head face down on the table. You’re trying not to lose it and finally, whatever higher being up there hears your plea to give you a break.

A phone call from Kaeya comes through.

“…Hey,” you answer.

“Hey, hun. You haven’t been replying to my messages,” there’s a lilt of playfulness in his voice. He just thinks you’ve fallen asleep or taken a nap at home or something.

“…Yeah, I—” You try to explain. You try to say that you weren’t feeling well. That you didn’t feel like talking. But would he understand? Everyone today seemed to be against you. “I just, fell asleep,” You lie and there’s a few seconds of silence on the other side.

“…You sure?” Now there’s a hint of unease in his voice. The playfulness is gone. “You ok? Do you want me to come over?” Somehow he senses that it isn’t just “falling asleep”. His simple worry and caring attitude towards you breaks whatever composure you had left. You accidentally let out a sniffle as tears start to pool in your eyes.

“Hey… You don’t have to talk to me, but I’ll come over right now, okay?” The sniffle was enough to tell him that perhaps something had went wrong. You couldn’t help but let out a few more sniffles as tears slowly trickles down your face.

“O-okay,”

Minutes later your blue-haired boyfriend shows up at your doorstep. Despite your mom being a little hard on you earlier, when she opens the door to see him, she smiles and says. “I think they were having a bad day, I might have been a little harsh on them too,” Kaeya only grins and points a thumb to his chest. “No problem, that’s what I’m here for,” He’s still wearing his volleyball jersey.

He knocks softly on the door, “Y/N?” there’s a plastic bag in his other hand.

When you open the door your eyes were already a little red around the edges, but seeing him made your lips tremble and fresh tears fall out. “Shh… You’re okay.” He wraps you in his arms, plastic bag rustling, his hand smooths your hair down and the other rubs your back as you cry out your frustrations for the day.

The two of you stay there for what seems like a long time. You hiccupping into his chest and trying to calm down. At some point he moves the both of you on the bed and lets you curl up against him. When you finally ease up, he pulls away slightly to look at your face, then brushes away the wetness still lingering on your cheeks. “Feel better?” He whispers, as if being too loud will break you again.

You smile a little and nod at how gentle he was being. He smiles back and leans in to press a kiss on your forehead. “You’re doing great, Y/N. Whatever it is, just talk to me when you’re ready,” and it hits you so hard how much he’s willing to just be there with you, even though he doesn’t know what’s happening. How he wasn’t going to judge you for what you say or what you do and your face crumples and grimaces into a face that tells him you’re trying not to cry. “D-Did I say something wrong?” He’s a little startled, but you laugh a little through small droplets of tears that you wipe away by yourself. “No, you idiot. I’m just happy you’re here,”

He sighs and relaxes, taking his own hand and pinching your cheek, pulling at it a little. “Who’s the idiot? Crying and laughing at the same time?” He was joking, of course. He’d only do so when he knew you could take it. You swat his hand away with a slight glare, and he knows that he’s got a little bit of the normal you back. “Alright, come on, here,” He suddenly sits up and presents the plastic bag that he’s been holding all that time.

“Ice-cream, your favourite flavour,” rummages into it and takes out a tub the size of two fists, a little damp from the melted moisture. He’s got spoons in there too. Slowly, as you eat the tub together, you tell him about what’s been going on in uni. How people just expected you to help when you could. How you got nothing in return. How you try really hard and they somehow still end up piling on negativity into your life.

“…It’s okay to help, Y/N,” he thoughtfully says, mouth muffled cause his spoon was still in his mouth. “But don’t forget to take care of yourself too,” then he scoops another bite. “…But even if you don’t…it’s okay,” he looks up at the ceiling. “If you don’t take care of yourself…Then I’ll do it. That’ll be my job. Forever,”

You lay your head on his shoulder as he says this, still eating from your spoon “I love you,”. He smiles and presses a soft kiss atop your head. “Love you too. I’m always just a phone call away, babe,”

Zhongli

“Is there something on your mind? You’ve been quiet for the past hour,” Nothing slips by Zhongli. He’s observant. He knows you don’t feel like eating by the way you’re picking at your food. Knows that you don’t want to talk because you don’t even meet his eyes.

“…Nothing, really,” You just didn’t have the energy to talk about it.

He feels as if this date has gone awry, and he didn’t even know where he went wrong. Though, if he had to guess, it wasn’t his fault. You were just in a particularly bad mood. Not that the two of you were anywhere fancy, it was just your usual sit-down restaurant at a mall across the university.

To him, the right thing to do was give you the space you needed. So, after walking you to your room that night, he’d wait till the morning to contact you. Imagine his surprise when none of his calls go through. None of his texts were returned. He was beside himself with worry when suddenly, near the afternoon, he finally gets word from you.

“Sorry Li, I feel a little sick today. Don’t worry though, I’ll be fine in no time,”

You’re bad at lying. Or was he just good at reading you? You tend to have the habit of withdrawing when you’re out of energy. To give too much without any regards to your own state, your own feelings. Sometimes you don’t realize that you had to watch over yourself too.

It’s nearly 8 at night when he knocks at your dorm room. Zhongli went through a few steps to make sure your roommate would be out tonight. It was from them that he found out you hadn’t left the room at all today, but that you weren’t sick.

“Oh… Zhongli,” You’re surprised at the amount of things he’s holding. There’s a plastic bag that seems to nearly be popping and in his other hand was a mysterious paper bag. Under his arm he’s tucked his laptop with him. He lived in the dorms too, and if someone saw him now, it would look as if he was moving into your room. “You could’ve just asked me to come over to yours,” his eyes trail away, a certain brown-headed roommate pops up in his mind.

“No, Tartaglia’s in tonight,” You make a sound of understanding. His roommate was rather…special. Too energetic for your tastes, and sometimes nosy. “What do you have there?” You ask and invite him in. He chucks the plastic bag on your bed, lays down the laptop on your table along with the mystery paper bag. He notes that you’re already in your sleepwear, which was perfect. He starts to take out a throw blanket from the plastic bag and a hoodie.

“…This..is?” You’re a little baffled by what he’s trying to convey. “…My throw blanket that you like so much…and you said you like wearing my hoodie,” then he points at the laptop. “Do you want to watch a movie in bed? I have popcorn too,”

Then you realize that he’s trying to make you feel better. He’s figured out that you weren’t really sick, possibly just mentally drained. You smile at him and lean in for a hug, to which he responds to by wrapping his arms around your back and whispering. “…I’m not…really good at these things… Tartaglia said it might make you feel better…” You chuckle in his embrace and could imagine the kind of conversation they had.

“You’re the best Zhongli,” he secretly smiles while rubbing your back up and down. He doesn’t ask questions as to why you’ve been acting the way you do, but you’re the one who offers him the answer. “It’s just school… Too many things have been piling up… My class they… They’re really nice people you know? But just… there are times where I wish they would stop asking me for help, but it feels so selfish of me… I have my own things too, but they never think about that…”

It’s always about them, you want to say, but keep your mouth shut. He runs his hand through your hair gently, internalizing the things that you’ve said. “…I see… Would you like to hear what I think?” He’d ask first, because he knew sometimes that you didn’t really want an answer. You just wanted to be listened to. You nod against his chest, you could feel his heart beating from the closeness. “I think, you’re a very selfless person, Y/N,” he places a kiss on your head. “There’s nothing wrong in wanting to take a break from time to time, you deserve it,” and he guides you over to your bed, wrapping the two of you up in his throw blanket. Laptop on, popcorn in the mystery paper bag as you put his hoodie on. It smells just like him.

His back leans against the wall and you’re in the safety of his arms. You’re practically in his lap, encased in his scent and warmth. He’d managed to prop his laptop up on a pile of books and the two of you watch a random movie on the screen. You were paying attention to it, but you couldn’t help but be more interested in the way his chest rises and falls. You can feel him against you, and the comfort it brings is like no other.

You turn away from the screen and rest your head at the nape of his neck. He looks down, movie still playing and asks “Tired?” You shake your head, eyes closed. “No, I’m just enjoying this…” There’s a small rumble from his chest as he lets out a small “Mm,” his eyes are glued to your face. Movie forgotten.

“…Y/N, I’ll always… be next to you,” Your eyes flutter open a little to look up at him, curious. “…Always?” He nods his head firmly to confirm, and you lean up a little to press a sweet and quick kiss on his lips. “Even when I’m not my best and I’m moody?” He chuckles at that and responds with a remark that might have slightly brought tears to your eyes.

“Especially when you’re not at your best, I’ll be there. Just call,”

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#genshin impact #genshin fluff #zhongli x reader #kaeya x reader #zhongli fluff #kaeya fluff

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