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im-totally-not-an-alien-2 · 2 years

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Danny at the tender age of 23, has had a bad month. He had just lost his job as an interpreter with his company due to rejecting the advances of one of the older female bosses and his landlord was trying to screw him over on rent.

It honestly surprised him when he woke up one day with his wrists bound in front of him and trapped in a tube. He had been out of the hero game since the portals closed up years ago and Vlad lost his powers, so it had been a while since the whole "kidnapping" thing had happened to him.

He looked out through the glass of the tube as he turned intangible to let the IV needles fall out of his arms. There luckly wasn't any glowing green goo in the tube with him, but he doubts it will stay that way long as the scientists outside his containment chatted happily about "the discovery of the decade!" Ick.

He waits till they're gone before turning intangible slipping out of his tube and heading straight for the computer. He knew how to hack, but he was low on time and needed to know exactly what was going on, so some ghostly meddling with electronics were necessary. Sorry Tuck.

It was at this moment he found out several things.

1. Danny had apparently been here for several months instead of the few days he had initially assumed

2. He was found somewhere in his own thermos, asleep. Luckily they haven't been able to replicate any technology from it.

3. Superheros were a very real thing now. How long had he been asleep?

4. He had been cloned. Again. But this time he had someone else's DNA mixed in with the clones to make them more stable and intelligent. Some guy named Red Robin. Huh. Was that his real name or...?

Danny took a deep breath before locating his new clone kids. Ellie would be thrilled...if she was still around that is. He could think about that later, right now he had to grab his babies-and oh ancients- they were babies! The oldest of the three looked four years old at most and the youngest looked only a few hours. He was still all pink and alien looking.

Luckily his children didn't fight him when he picked them up and flew through the walls with them. He made a mental note to teach them stranger danger when he came across a large red button.

You won't believe what it was labeled as. Yep. A self destruct button. How cliché. Whatever. He pushed it and sirens immediately started to go off and he continued flying them through walls before exited into a dark gothic city he knew Sam would immediately love.

Somehow he managed to immediately land a job as a linguist for Wayne tech. Probably thanks to the three small kids he had and the panicked look on his face. Bruce was a really chill dude.

Batman however, was a prick. He met the guy weeks after his run in with Bruce and he kept popping up after he found out the clone babies were partially from one of his birds and trying to take custody away from him or convince him to give them up. Danny retaliated by spreading the rumor/truth that his kids where Red Robins from creepy cloning scientists that kidnapped him before immediately moving out of Gotham and into Fawcett City to work for a competitors company. This way Red couldn't legally go after him for custody without revealing his identity :)

This is how Red Robin, at the tender age of 25, learned he had kids with a man named Daniel Nightengale. Not only that, Bruce knew about them and didn't tell him.

Danny made it clear that if any of the Gotham Rouges tried to follow him and harm his kids they would come back missing a hand. Joker found out the hard way that he wasn't bluffing.

Shazams old guy mentor almost has an aneurysm when he senses the freaking GHOST KING living in Fawcett. Danny is also much more powerful then ever before and accidentally made the power go out in half the city when he got truly angry with Batman.

#fanfiction prompts #prompts #danny phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc #time drake #red robin #poor tim #the nightengale idea wasnt mine #but i love it and believe it should be the fentons go to for identity problems #tim wants to meet his kids #danny is superdad #ever listened to Mr. mom?#danny is the mom from that song and i fully support him #the batfam all lose thier minds #shazam doesnt know what to think of danny #danny is worlds best dad #long post

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russos-ventitre · 6 months

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alessia russo x reader | lezioni di italiano IV 🧸

✘ summary: it was the first national game against alessia after the two of you finally established your relationship

✘ warnings/tags: hurt/comfort, injury, head injury, brief mentions of blood, reader is mid-20s, ItalyWNT!reader, ItalyCaptain!reader, established relationship

✘ words: 2826

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎→ part i ‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎→ part ii

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎→ part iii

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎→ part iv

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎→ part v

a/n: translations provided as always! sorry for the big time jump :')

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ quattro

Months later...

It was England v Italy, the first time you and your girlfriend were going to play against each other, both of you having previous discussions about this very game. Knowing months in advance that it was coming, both of you agreeing that you wouldn’t hurt each other, no matter what. You both deeply cared about football but your love for each other outweighed that and you'd both rather end up with teammates biting your head off than a broken girlfriend. A loss of a game outweighing the fear of an injured Alessia, or worse.. a dreaded ACL..

"In bocca al lupo, amorina." [Good luck, little love.] You whispered as your two teams lined up in the tunnel together.

"Crepi il lupo, tesoro." [Thanks, darling.] She mumbled back, feeling your hand graze past hers as you both filed outside, splitting into your two teams.

It was an away game for Italy, so your team sang first, being completely overshadowed by the England team once it was their turn. You could hear the words to 'God save the King' clear as day as it echoed throughout the stadium and you couldn't help yourself but clap at the audience's commitment, even if you were shot a few dirty looks from your team.

When the crowd settled down you walked over to the referees with your banner, shaking hands with all three women before turning to face England's Captain, Millie Bright, who was in place of Leah Williamson.

"Good luck out there!" The defender shouted, shooting you a friendly smile as you took her hand in yours.

"You as well! You replied, now swapping banners and taking to your positions.

The first half of the game went pretty smoothly, a few England players slipping through your defense but it was quickly recovered. Your team's main goal for the first 45 minutes or more being purely defense and goal-scoring if the opportunity made itself available. You knew how football worked, you had been playing it for nearly two decades now to know that whatever team scored early on in the first half pretty much has the advantage the rest of the game, regardless of conceding.

Halftime...

All the players file into the tunnel at half-time, you finding a seat at your cubby as you awaited the instructions your coach was about to provide. You sat there, chugging some of your water and zoning in and out, hearing bits and pieces of whatever your coach was talking about. You swore you heard your coach mention something along the lines of ‘play dirty', 'if they get near you, fall', and 'get fouled’ ring through your ears. It wasn’t the first time your team was instructed to play like that and it definitely pissed you off every time you were told to do it. As Captain, it was your job to lead and this, this was something you just couldn’t stand by. You finally had enough, standing up and chucking your towel to the ground, everyone's attention now on you.

“Siamo migliori di così! Questo non è la squadra che ho captinato per anni! La mia squadra è migliori di così.” [We’re better than that! This is not the team I’ve captained for years. My team is better than that.] You charged out of the room, making your way to the pitch for halftime warmups, spotting Alessia on the sidelines getting some water.

“Stella..” [Star..] You muttered, bending down and pretending to retie your laces.

“Hmm?” The blonde’s head turned towards yours, looking in your general direction as she drank more water, not wanting to raise any questions to her fans.

“My team.. stanno andando a giocare sporco. Please stay safe.. tell your team, amore..” [They’re going to play dirty.]

You walked away from her before she could respond, hoping no one noticed how long you were next to the striker. Alessia tossed her bottle to the side, running over to her teammates and warning them, hoping that people in the crowds wouldn’t notice the slight worry washing over her features. Your team eventually filed out, joining your subs in some warmups.

After a bit, the referee blew the whistle signalling that halftime was over and that both teams needed to return to their positions. You took your position in midfield, adjusting your socks and shin pads, waiting for the game to start. You looked across the field, finding your blonde readjusting her ponytail before the first touch was made, the girl sending you a soft smile, you returning one back to her.

The first 15 minutes of the second half consisted of a lot of back and forth passes, England coming close to the goal but either losing possession or having their shots saved. Around the 72nd minute England made some subs, swapping Hemp for Kelly and Coombs for Zelem.

Play resumed, the ball being in your section of the field. You chased after Stanway, trying to block her through pass, but missed by a hair. You then chased after Toone, who was currently in possession, hot on her tail and ready to snatch the ball from her feet before you misstepped and accidentally clipped her heel, sending the brunette and yourself, tumbling to the floor. Barely a second after the two of you fell, the midfielder stood up, brushing herself off and stomping towards you. A familiar blonde running over and stepping between the two of you, pushing her in the opposite direction.

“Calm down, Toones.” You heard a familiar voice call, lifting your head up from the ground as you dusted yourself off.

“Spiacente..” [Sorry..] You mumbled quietly, feeling awful for taking out your girlfriend’s best mate. At least you started to feel better knowing that it was England’s free-kick and not your own. You didn’t deserve it if the referee were to give it to you and you were certainly going to argue with her if she did. The game continued after the free kick, more minutes counting down as both teams were at a standstill of nil-nil.

Finally, someone broke through, Stanway pushed passed your midfield, sprinting down the pitch as she lobbed the ball over to Toone. Toone did her best to dodge your team's defense, having to make a through pass at the last minute to Russo who was completely unmarked in the penalty box, taking the opportunity to score a goal. Winding her leg back, she strikes the ball with her dominant foot, sending the ball soaring into the top corner of the net. The fans going absolutely wild as Alessia's teammates jumped on her back, Tooney being wrapped up in her arms, kissing the blonde's head. You loved what those two had, and didn't feel at all threatened by Tooney being affectionate like that with her, you know she had Alessia's heart first, you knew your place and you were happy there. You never wanted to be the cause of any discourse between the two of them and you were more than happy to share Alessia with the brunette who practically knew her since birth. You view Ella as a sister in that respect.

Cheers died down, both teams walking back to their starting positions. You slowed down your walking so the striker could catch up with you.

"Bel colpo, amore mio." [Nice one, my love.] You patted her on the back before you swiftly walked away from her before your fans could question you on why you were secretly congratulating the enemy. The last thing you need is your home country thinking you've betrayed them, especially your teammates, and that you were now England's 12th player, although the thought did secretly intrigue you and you knew that if you mentioned it to Alessia you'd never hear the end of it. Especially after you politely refused to wear her England jerseys on multiple occasions. Claiming that you'd become 'a disgrace to your homeland', knowing full well she didn't buy it when she saw your lips curl at the ends slightly.

The game resumed, the ball hurdling in your direction, with Zelem not too far in front of you. Both of you jumped in the air, hoping to hit it off your heads and direct it towards your teammates. Unfortunately, the complete opposite happened actually. You and Zelem were mid-air and seconds before the ball reached the two of you, her elbow came crashing into the side of your skull. You immediately screamed out in pain, clutching your face as you fell to the ground with a loud thud. The referee blowing her whistle, ending the play immediately the second she saw your body collapse to the ground.

Alessia had watched the play unfold in front of her own eyes, seeing how the brunette’s elbow smacked into your temple, causing you to bleed. Her focus on the game immediately shifting to you, seeing your limp body on the pitch. Everything after that moment becoming slow-motion for the blonde. She sprinted after you, pushing past your Italian teammates that surrounded you, falling to her knees by your side.

“You alright, love?” Zelem asked, also closeby to you, making sure you were okay. She looked over to Alessia, whose hands were delicately placed on your body.

“I’ll take it from here Zel.” She smiled awkwardly, trying to hide the fact the tears that were threatening to escape her eyes. The older woman walked away, leaving Alessia at your side, alongside a few Italian players and the referee.

The blonde leaned down towards your ear. “Sono qui, amore.” [I’m here, love.] Rubbing her hand down your side, hoping to soothe you somehow.

It wasn’t long until the medics arrived, crouching down beside your girlfriend and asking what happened. “Che è successo?” [What happened?]

“È stata colpita in faccia.” [She got hit in the face.] The striker replied, her hands never leaving your side, in fact, one of her hands was now laced with yours, her thumb soothing the back of your hand.

The medics moved closer to you, trying to observe the section of your head that collided with Zelem’s arm. Alessia carefully helped you sit up, crouching behind you as her hands soothed down your back. You could barely keep your eyes open, your head throbbing, and everything around you fuzzy. Noise echoing through your ears but you couldn’t make out any of it, only barely able to recognise the sound of Alessia’s voice and her adorable Maidenstone accent, just the muffled sounds of her speaking to someone. The medic gently grabbed your face, tilting it to the side seeing blood trailing down to your cheek, pulling out a cloth to clean you up, the blonde taking liberty in holding it there on your wound afterward. After you were cleaned up the medic looked into your eyes, noticing that they were very dilated. She looked up to the referee who was stood nearby.

“She might have a concussion, she needs to be taken off to be examined.” The referee nodded, signalling the sidelines that a sub is needed.

Your girlfriend took notice of your lack of response, shifting herself so she was facing your side and carefully cradling you in her arms. Standing up slowly so your head didn’t explode, she carried you off the pitch in her arms, earning both of you applause that roared throughout the stadium. You hid your face in the blonde’s neck, trying to block out the blinding stadium lights and cringing at the noise of the fans, being hypersensitive to pretty much everything since you hit the floor.

You weren’t really sure what happened next, just feeling your limp body being carried, by who you assumed was still your girlfriend, and laid down on the examination table to rest. The room was left dark and in silence as you felt your body sink into the padding of the table.

The final whistle was blown, announcing that England had won 2-0 against Italy, the entire stadium of Wembley erupting into celebrations. But all Alessia could think of was you, absolutely booking it to the Italy locker room to find you. She ran throughout the building searching for you, finally seeing you through the small window on the door that separated the two of you. The blonde quietly entered the room, a hand coming to delicately stroke your back, as she walked around the table until she reached your face.

“Amore..” Her soft hand came to caress your face. “..amore abbiamo vinto.” [..love we won.]

You nuzzle your face against the blonde’s hand, finding comfort in her touch. “Mmm.. s’good..” You slurred, your brain feeling like jelly as you laid there miserable.

The striker quietly pulled a chair over, now able to rest her arms and chin on the examination table to be closer to you, your noses mere inches away from each other. Her hand resumed it’s original position, cupping your face delicately as you lay in pain.

“I scored a screamer for you, baby..” She whispered, seeing a faint smile curl at your lips.

“La mia ragazza stella..” [My star girl..] You hummed back, your eyes just barely open enough to look back at her, seeing her cheeks turn pink.

“Tesoro..” [Darling..] You hand reached for the blonde, finding purchase on her soft cheek, soothing your thumb over her beautiful skin.

Alessia leaned in closer, your foreheads nearly touching as she laid her head down beside you. “Hmm?”

“Don’t you want to celebrate with your team..?” You mumbled, your brain feeling worse the more you had to think proper thoughts.

"No.. I want to be here with you, amore mio." [my love.] She edged her face closer to yours, placing a delicate kiss to your nose, blush slowly filled your cheeks.

"Come on.. let's get you home." She cooed, grabbing your kitbag that was on the side, holding her hands out to help you sit up.

You sat up slowly, feeling the throbbing pain resume once you were upright, a hand coming to clutch at your face as you winced in pain. The blonde walked towards you, slotting her body between your legs, taking them in her hands and wrapping them around her torso, then finally pulling you close to her chest and wrapping your arms around her neck. She carefully slid you off the table and carried you out of the room.

"Keep your eyes closed, love." She mumbled, rubbing soothing patterns at the base of your neck as she navigated her way out of the building to her team bus.

The striker carried you all the way to her team bus, seeing Sarina waiting outside for her players, the coach's brows knitting together as she tried to figure out why one of her players was carrying an Italian player.

"Hey.." She whispered to the older woman. "..could you do me a favour and ask the girls to dial it down before I walk in there. [y/n].. my love.. she has a concussion and I don't want her to be alone in her team hotel room suffering. I'm gonna take her home." The blonde admitted, her face bright red as she had never really admitted that out loud before, only really to her closest friends.

"Sure." Sarina nodded, walking into the coach to make the announcement.

When she finished she walked back out, helping escort Alessia onto the coach without falling. The striker carried you down the aisle, you feeling sympathetic pats on your back as she walked past her teammates, one of them being Ella and the other being Zelem. She took you to the back of the bus, a place where no one was occupying carefully helping you lay down in her lap as the coach began to move.

You tucked your face away in your girlfriend's lower stomach, gently pressing your forehead against it as you hoped that the coach lights above your head would stop beaming through your eyelids that for whatever reason today seem to be as thin as paper, practically begging internally for the ache to leave you alone or knock you out. You honestly didn't care which one came first, you were just hoping to be spared soon because it was unbearable.

Her soft hand came to caress your face, your body melting into the woman's touch and instantly feeling more relaxed the longer she kept her hand there. Your hands searched for the blonde's shirt, finding the end of it and pulling it over your face to hide from the brightness of the light.

Alessia looked down at you bright-eyed, slowly becoming a bit flustered at your choice of face placement. Your nose and eyelashes accidentally brushing against her abs every now and then, causing the girl to fidget underneath you. You whined every time that she did, her movements causing more pain to your head until she eventually was able to control herself. You placed a kiss to her abs before settling yourself, everything afterward going dark.

‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎← part iii ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‎‏‏part v →

#alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagine #woso #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso community #woso imagines #engwnt x reader #england women #arsenal wfc #arsenal x reader #arsenal women #awfc x reader #awfc

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sulktrait · 1 month

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new simblr !

sul sul!

im gracie (she/her) and ive been playing sims for years! sims 3 is my favorite but it wreaks havoc on my laptop :') ive been lurking simblr for a while to just download cc until i decided to make my own recently!

i love gameplay posts and challenges (even though im horrible at them, ive abandoned the decades challenge twice now) and im really excited to just start learning how to edit nice screenies and share my pixel babies <3 im currently starting a new legacy without any strict challenge rules to get back into my love of the game :)

#new simblr #ts4 #sims 4 #maxis mix #maxis match #cc #modded #sims 4 challenge #sul sul #ts4 screenshots #ts4 gameplay #the sims community #sulking

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eyeliketoeatpoosay · 21 days

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ANYTHING ~ matt sturniolo.

summary ~ christmas eve and your mom does nothing but fight with you. you decide to leave and get stoned in some random parking lot when matt finds you.

warnings i! ~ ANGSTY ANGST, fluff, established relationship, soft!matt, use of petnames (baby), use of y/n (SUE ME), lower case intended !, mentions/details of suicide and depression. - tell me if ive missed anything !

a/n ~ hey ! haha🤣 so i was reading a fan fic and i started sobbing bc this song came on so i thought wait this is such a good song to write about💯💯‼️ so here i am💋 enjoy

not proof read !

✧༺💌༻∞

christmas eve. the last 24 hours before christmas day. the day of love and commemoration of the birth of Jesus Christ. the day of love, celebration, and hope.

christmas was the one day a year, besides birthdays, that kids looked forward to. the day that children got presents from family members they had never even heard of, it usually just being a box of chocolate and a card with ten dollars shoved in it carelessly. but, the children didn’t care. they saw ten dollars worth of candy and robux. they saw fifty new cavities for the dentists to worry about, toys for decades, and snow to lay in and create artificial angels.

however, christmas hadn’t been the same for you since your father died. the day felt dull, empty, lonely. december 19th 2016. one day after your thirteenth birthday, you walked into your parents newly organized bedroom to see your father’s limp and lifeless body with his feet floating 6 inches off the ground.

the day permanently imprinted in your closed mind. the way his skin faded white and his cheeks puffed up red. the way your father took his own precious life twenty four hours after you turned thirteen.

you were adding setting powder to your under eyes, making sure your makeup was perfect before putting your outfit on.

you, your mother, and sister always stayed indoors all day on christmas eve. playing board games, watching movies, drinking hot cocoa. it was like a tradition at this point. your father introduced it to your family when your mother was pregnant with you, now you were carrying on the legacy.

it wasn’t your favorite time of year, in fact, you dreaded the clocks striking midnight on december 1st. you wished you could stay in november forever. relive that last month of your life when your father stayed alive for every single day. when your father didn’t waste a single breath.

you shook the thought and wiped off the powder, curling your long and black lashes and swiping mascara across them. something about doing your makeup every morning was therapeutic, comforting. it wasn’t that you were ugly or insecure, no, it was just something to make your smile break out.

and something to make your boyfriend convince you that you didn’t need.

the brown fluffy hoodie that you stole from matthew sturniolo, your boyfriend, laid on your pink floral bedding. along with your red and black checkered pajama pants. it was a cozy and warming day. you weren’t going anywhere, so you didn’t bother with actual clothes.

it was now 10:07 am. matt was most definitely not awake, but you decided to message him. just to let him know you loved him. you couldn’t let anyone down ever again. you couldn’t end an interaction without an ‘i love you.’ or the guilt would eat you alive.

‘morning matt’

‘i love u’

‘merry christmas eve !’

‘tell ur mom and dad i miss them’

‘i already told nick and chris’

‘call me when u wake up baby’

‘love u so much.’

‘💌💌💌’

you sling your phone onto your mattress and tie your hair up. half up half down with a ribbon. just what your father knew and loved. what you know and love.

you stand in front of your six foot tall mirror and held your hands at your sides, looking at your reflection and not recognizing a single molecule of your body. from your toe nails to your hair follicles, you were a stranger. a complete stranger.

a deep breath escaped your lips as you switched your bright white led lights off and made your way to the living room where your mother was sat drinking a mug of black coffee, which was probably laced with vodka. her frail hands were shaking against the boiling ceramic piece, clearly already brain-dead.

your younger sister, monica, was slouching on the opposite sofa. her phone fixated in her sweaty hands which caused you to roll your eyes backwards into your brain.

you quickly glance over at the cats empty and stained food bowl, “has cookie been fed today?” you ask to a simple head shake and a mumbling of ‘no.’ you scoff and make your way into the kitchen, grabbing the cat biscuits from the cupboard and pouring a generous amount into her small bowl. you rinse away the three day old water and fill it with ice cold water for your cat.

you stroke your soft hand across her back as she wolfs down her food, storming into the living room. you snatch the mug of black coffee from your mother, holding it up to your nose and immediately being wafted by the smell of vodka.

you nod as tears gloss over your eyes, a pearly vision to them now. “you promised, mom! you fucking promised.” your voice started off as a yell until it breaks and the tears don’t even threaten to escape, they just do.

your mom furrows her brows, taking back the ‘worlds best mom.’ mug and shaking her head. her pupils were dilated and her scoff had the smell of alcohol. “i didn’t promise shit, y/n!”

“that’s bullshit mom and you know it.” you snap, monica shoving her wired headphones in and scurrying off into her bedroom up in the attic. “it was four months you were sober. now you’re off drinking vodka for breakfast. what the fuck is wrong with you?! don’t you care?”

your mom, ashley, laughs in your face like you’re a fool. like you’re just a piece of dirt she wiped off her shoe. “oh, so i’m a bad mom, is that it?”

“because i have tried so hard to suit your needs, y/n, but nothing seems to please you anymore.” she added.

you press your lips together tightly, pinching the bridge of your nose. “yeah, you are a bad mom. what happened, hm? ever since dad died you’ve been gone. it’s like you’re here but your head is in oblivion.”

your mom scowls, her fists in balls. how dare you speak to her like that? who did you think you were? your father?

“don’t speak to me that way, y/n. i am your mother.”

“are you?! are you my mother? because i don’t see you. i never see you anymore! you’re always in the clouds. you’re never here, you’re always in space.” tears flood as you speak your mind, as you bring up the same argument for the one hundredth time, hoping that she will finally listen, finally get help, finally be a mother.

your mom stands closer, her hand coming up to slap your face, ready to leave a red handprint in your pale skin, but you grab her wrist. she clenches her jaw and yanks her arm down. “i wish it was you that died.”

you immediately grab your tote bag and leave the house. making sure to slip your ugg’s on as you exit. you don’t even grab your phone, instead just sit in your car and drive off. no plan, no money, and a million thoughts.

number one priority is getting far away from your home, wether you get to australia or the local gas station, you had to leave. but, just your luck, the car ran out of gas as you pulled into a random parking lot. no clue where you were, you threw your head down onto the steering wheel, the beep continuing on for thirty seconds until you were finally cured of the sound.

the stress you received from your mother never failed to dig your grave further.

i wish it was you that died.

the longer you let the words sink into your brain, the faster your heart sank. the words stung. you knew when she’d sober up she’d apologize and cry, like she always did, but you were sick of the empty apologies. you were sick of the games. you just wanted it to be november 2016.

you rummaged through your tote bag, hands gripping onto a week old roll up that you and matt forgot to use. you took a deep breath and picked up the lighter from your glove box, holding the blunt to your cracked lips as you lit it. you wished matt was there to hold it to your lips as he lit it, blowing smoke into your mouth as you made out. you wished you were with him.

an hour had passed. a long ass hour. you were lucky for your watch. about twenty minutes in you realized your phone had been forgotten and left on your pink floral bedsheets. you had no idea if matt had texted you, you hoped he’d still be asleep.

since you were bored out of your mind, you took the nearly finished blunt with you and travelled around the entire parking lot on foot. over and over again until you spotted a bench outside of the target. you took a seat and stamped out the blunt, kicking it under the bench.

your fingers danced around on the arm of the rotted bench. you felt a coldness wash over your body and felt a human presence in front of you. matthew.

his hand pressed against your knee as he knelt down and looked at your face with worry and concern. “hey.. what’s going on, y/n?” he asked, his thumb swiping over your kneecap as a way of comforting you.

you frown, “what are you even talking about, matt? i’m fine.” you cross your arms and look away, but his free hand grabs your chin and turns your face towards him.

“you’re stoned at half eleven in the morning, baby. what happened?” he asked, soothingly, tucking a strand behind your ear. “you only ever smoke with me, and even then you’re cautious.” he sits beside you, waiting patiently for a reply.

“i don’t wanna talk about anything.” you mumble, “i don’t wanna talk about anything.” you repeat, a lot softer, glancing up at matt for a moment.

matthew sighs, rubbing his eyes, “did your mom upset you? i understand the time of year, but you’re gonna have to tell me if i’m gonna help you, baby..” matts lips twist to the side and he rests a hand on your shoulder.

“i don’t wanna talk about anyone.” you sighed, “i want to sleep.” a small chuckle escaped matts lips as you said this, looking at the store behind him.

“well, let me just quickly buy some more whipped cream and marshmallows since chris ate them all, and we can head to my house, ‘kay?” he suggested at you nodded, a small, soft kiss being planted on your temple.

it only took him ten minutes to grab what he needed. he took your hand and walked over to his car when he stopped in his tracks. “how did you get here?”

“drove ‘til i ran out of gas.” you shrugged, pointing at your car isolated across the parking lot. matt took a deep breath and look at you, shaking his head playfully.

“i’ll bring a fuel can down here later and drive it to mine for you.” matt smiled softly and opened the drivers door, climbing in and tossing his bag into the back seat.

this target was almost thirty minutes away from the sturniolo household, so you connected your phone to aux and played one particular song on repeat, ‘anything’ by adrianne lenker. you hummed the lyrics, staring out at the snow trickling down onto the sidewalks, kids building snowmen with their families.

your eyes shut as you stayed slouched in the passenger seat, your arms folded and your head resting on the inside of the car door. you took a deep breath before eventually falling asleep.

it was almost 12pm, afternoon, but you needed this nap. you needed this break. you needed matt.

4pm. you woke up in matts bed with three blankets sloped across your body. drool down your face with hair stuck to your cheeks. you took a deep breath and rubbed your eyes, sitting up slowly as you yawned and stretched your arms.

you blinked multiple times, still trying to come back to reality. your mind was foggy, cloudy, you had no idea what happened or where you were for a good few minutes.

matt suddenly walked into his bedroom and shut the door, jumping when he saw you staring directly at him. he smiled softly and walked over to kiss your forehead. he sat beside you on his bed and handed you your car keys, but you looked up with a blank expression.

“oh! i filled your car with gas, it’s out in the front.” he grinned and you nodded slowly, yawning again. he sighed, tilting his head and looking at you. “hey. what’s going on?” he kissed your cheek, “why did i find you stoned outside of a target thats no where near you?”

you finally start to wake up fully. wiping your drooled-face and shrugged, “don’t know.”

matt shook his head, “c’mon. speak up, baby.”

you sighed deeply and loudly, “i just hate this time of year, matt. my mom was literally drinking vodka at 10am. didn’t wanna fight, but she insisted.” you sob, laying your head in his lap and covering your face with your hands. “why did he have to die.” your words were muffled as you whispered into his lap.

matt felt sorry. he didn’t know what to do or say. all he knew was to be there for you. his fingers ran through your hair and he leaned down to kiss your head, “i know, i’m sorry, baby.” but he didn’t know. his father was alive and in the living room below them.

you choked on your cries, using his sweatpants as a rag. “i just don’t want to do it anymore, matt.” you say, sitting up and wiping your eyes. you look at his face, “i love you so much.”

matt nodded and kissed you tenderly, “i love you more, y/n.” he smiled softly and hugged you, “when we grow old and have grandchildren, we’ll give them a box of chocolate for christmas.” he chuckled, rubbing your back.

“with ten dollars in the christmas card.” you smiled back, holding his hand and pulling away.

matt nodded and spoke, “for now, we get to love eachother and be grateful for 8th grade science.”

@mattslolita @sturnprime

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #angst #fluff #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo angst #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo

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sergeifyodorov · 4 months

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would u do a little analysis of how each team has done so far this season … i trust ur opinions so much

EACH team okay... under the cut bc i am not subjecting the masses to 32 nasty little thots cody edition

Bruins: RIP patrice of course but the bruins are steamrolling as ever... i think that if there is any evidence of the universe simply not caring abt good things it is that the bruins slip and stumble and have some of their best players retired and still manage to put up a 50 win season every year. <- salty leafs fan but ANYHWAY the bruins are easily a Playoff Team. simply "there" 5v5, strong power play, they make their money off finishing (pastrnak you filthy animal) and goaltending (swaymark you filthy animals). they have been trending downwards of late so i'm not entirely sure of like their final standings place but with this kind of head start they're staying up.

Sabres: currently in what we the people call a "decade of darkness." might be a "two decades of darkness" if we're going to be honest. the active player with the most playoff points with the sabres is tyler myers. 7 points. yeah the tall one most famous for having a subreddit that posts the gamescore card every time he's on the bottom of the gamescore card. sabres are really hard to fix because their first real step to contention is "hoping devon levi turns out really good." not promising. bad enough that by selling a piece or two celebrini is in sight. maybe that'll help? a third 1OA?

Red Wings: presenting the mid-season Season Ruining Unforced Error Award early by saying: not that they were going to be as good as their first few games of sniping suggested, but signing patrick kane tanked any realistic hope they have of playoffs. is patrick kane good? he's actually alright. maybe this time the surgery worked. is the team made better by having him on it? it surely isn't! a few REALLY BADLY TIMED dylan larkin based misfortunes have made it go from bad to worse. they were in A2 like a month ago and now they're Out. strengths: finishing. weaknesses: everything else, including morale.

Panthers: okay you've probably clocked this by now but ive been Generally Salty so far and that is bc a) im easily tempted to haterhood and b) currently discussing each team in the atlantic which does nothing to make me less Tempted To Haterhood. that being said the panthers are Good and For Real About It. they can do everything except finish chances, which is fine when the other team has way fewer chances than you and your goalie doesn't let any of them in. fuck ALLL the way off. place your bets on these guys having a deep playoff run. cross your fingers for them not having a deep playoff run i can't stand chuckyposting again it's RAN ITS COURSE. (also: machuk is probably still injured and absolutely Not doing as well as he did the last few seasons. maybe because he's just not that kind of guy but it's probably at least mostly the broken chest thing)

Canadiens: they are bad EXCEPT when it comes to overtime + the shootout. also much like the sabres they're going nowhere fast. i expect at least one of their goalies to be gone at the deadline... furthermore i think ppl who are ragging on slaf's slow development are simply expecting all 1OAs to be like an auston or a connor type (pick your connor) where they come in and immediately adapt -- slaf rings very reminiscent of quinton byfield to me, who was picked 2OA in 2020 and is only now starting to break out. give him time he's a baby...

Senators: despite how much literally everyone talks up all their players constantly, they are not good either. like the sabres or the habs... atlantic is 4 teams in the genuine hunt, 3 teams who suck and have sucked forever and will suck forevermore, and the red wings who haven't made up their minds yet. the sens actually Do have a singular Biggest Problem though and that's goaltending, but they're not a good enough team otherwise that getting a quality goaltender is going to make them playoffs worthy, especially not in the very short (this-season) run.

Lightning: the lightning are weird to me because like i think they're still making up their mind as A People what they want to do. kucherov is the best player in the league rn, this is stamkos' ufa season and he hasn't been offered an extension, vasilevskiy is back and vasying his levskiy... i fully believe they have the capability of getting a playoff spot, maybe even A3 if they want. we've all seen them in the playoffs, we know how they can turn ~It~ on at will. as always they're a deeply mid 5v5 team powered by very strong special teams... the goaltending numbers say goaltending is shit but they've been playing in front of the genuinely unplayable jonas johansson most of the season so i think it'll be fine.

Maple Leafs: as the team ive watched the moast i can talk about these guys for evar so for all of our sanities i will be brief: Auston Matthews, Baby, Look At Him, That's Auston, Auston Motherfucking "Sexy Mustached Bitch" Matthews!!!!!!! powered by an extremely strong power play and very good offence, and defence and goaltending that is held together by Morgan Rielly and a dream. possibly the only reason they're in a playoff spot is the fact that martin jones didn't get claimed on waivers three months ago and i am being dead serious about that. for some reason they're at their best when they're down by two. they do really need both their #1 goalie to come back from injury and to make a splash for a genuine nhl-calibre defenceman, but they're stubbornly determined to win games even through nasty flu.

Hurricanes: their usual selves -- analytics darlings, can't buy a goal. this year they can't buy a save either -- Freddie is out with a medical condition, Raanta is straight up not good, and Kochetkov is... well, he's Kochetkov. they're not far out of a spot but they'll need a hot hand if they want to get comfy... which i don't expect, frankly. they're good enough to make the playoffs, but they're not really a team that goes on heaters, so they'll be bubble until the end.

Blue Jackets: genuinely not sure they know what they're doing like... okay. from an outside pov they are obviously Tanking. they're bad in every way that matters except for finishing and the standings show it. but also like... they're at the point in their development cycle where they shouldn't be tanking... or at least are on the verge of Shouldn't Be Tanking. and again, because they don't know what they're doing, they hired mike babcock for this... if they know what they're doing they'll toss kekalainen as soon as they can and, following this year's draft, start Fighting. but let's be real i doubt that. adam fantilli it's your time to shine... sorry sweetheart!

Devils: see Hurricanes. Great on paper, can't buy a save. They've obviously been stunted by Timo, J'accuse, and Nico all being injured at various points, but goaltending is their biggest and most solvable problem. Unlike the Hurricanes, though, the Devils are fully capable of going on a heater, so the gap between them and WC2 isn't as big as it looks (probably.) Luke Hughes is going to be something special.

Rangers: Looks like Lafreniere is finally getting his feet under him -- but the Rangers have always been far more about getting old, known players to get a second wind with them than they've been about prospect development, and Quick and Wheeler are both showing this pretty definitively. Another one of those teams that's run by special teams and finishing/goaltending. Easy playoff spot, likely solid run. Nothing too interesting here.

Islanders: On the other hand, the Isles are interesting because... like... how did they get There? They have a negative goal differential, for heaven's sake! Their special teams are godawful, their defence is a sieve, they blow leads like that's what actually gets you points in this league, and they're somehow second in the Metropolitan??????? Is it Horvat? Barzal? Sorokin? (It's probably Sorokin.) They'll make the playoffs but i doubt they'll succeed in them.

Flyers: This one's also weird. They have the power play and offence of a peewee team in the big leagues, but have become defensively Actually Super Competent and are somehow good because of this? I'm going to theorize -- because you've asked me to but also because I really want to -- that this is due, at least in part, to somewhat of an inverse Kane-on-the-Red-Wings effect from their offseason removal of Provorov and DeAngelo; without them, the team is now not only better defensively on paper but also better as a team in the locker room. They're [uncle voice] playing with heart now! I doubt they're a real contender, but I think they might actually make playoffs.

Penguins: ...this one's also weird. They're good on paper. Like, really good on paper? Defensively "just okay" but offensively great, goaltending is fantastic, special teams are shutdown. They just can't buy a goal and they can't buy a good sequence.

Capitals: This one's weird, too, but in the opposite way -- aside from the power-play, the Caps are actually godawful on paper, especially when it comes to finishing (because when Ovechkin takes such a high percentage of your shots but he isn't scoring, your team REALLY suffers) but somehow they've managed to pinpoint sequencing luck (win close, lose ugly) and are somehow in WC1. Do I think they'll make the playoffs? Absolutely not -- if either the Devils or Canes step up, the Caps are the odd man out -- but it might be fun to see them try. Or hell, I hope they win-close-lose-ugly their way to a goddamn Cup final. Would be funny as fuck for Ovi's second-longest ever playoff run to come at the fresh young age of thirty-eight. Dude looks ragged out there. I'm going to shut up now before I start talking about finding him sexy

Coyotes: Simple on paper: bad at running play, good goaltending and finishing. Essentially what the Canucks are doing at a smaller scale. The Leafs should never have let Kerfoot walk and I mean that unironically. Okay, anyway, the Yotes are a bubble team and won't make higher than WC1 because of the logjam at the top of the Central, but holy fuck do I want them to make WC1 (or a playoff spot in general.) People ask "how can we grow the game" a lot, and when it comes to what the NHL can do directly, the number one biggest thing is win in small markets. Arizona has already created one of the sports' biggest stars -- Auston! -- and it's an absolutely massive TV market and a potential hotbed of new fans and new, great players. Arizona making a playoff spot -- or even better, going on a run -- would be amazing for the NHL. And it would be funny. And I would like that.

Blackhawks: shoutout to dave !!! dave who works for the hawks!!! anyway the hawks are very obviously tanking and good at it. Their only real point of interest is their Sacred Child, and holy fuck is their Sacred Child going to absolutely fucking smash it when he's given a team that's not entirely made up of scrubs. i think his analytics, especially his defensive numbers, are, like, fine? but accounting for his leverage (all situations, especially the difficult ones), his teammates (his best linemate is Anthony Beauvillier, and tito... is a third liner), and the fact that he's all of eighteen, he's definitely on track to be a Real Force. i kinda love him... okay moving on.

Avalanche: All-over good: finishing their biggest obvious strength, but hockeywise they don't have any real weaknesses... although there is some serious Drama brewing in that locker room and i think it might just be getting started. with landeskog gone for at least until the end of this year (and possibly forever) and ej a sabre, there is absolutely no one in there capable of actually emotionally running a team: makar lacking in a leader's magnetism, rantanen an idiot, toews and mackinnon far too high-strung and competitive, and no one else with seniority. they're a good enough team that it's not really affecting them right now, but ... i don't know, i can kind of feel it coming. They'll make the playoffs, but when the pressure is on they'll either step up or completely fall apart.

Stars: See above: all-over good, but saving their biggest obvious weakness. I think most of this is spurred by Otter being out -- Wedgewood is a serviceable backup goaltender, but obviously not capable of being a real starter, and the team is stuttering because of it. I doubt it'll be for long or too much difficulty (they're a good defensive team, so it's not going to affect them a lot, but they might lose a game or two they might have won with Otter, especially if he's out for a while), but it's going to keep them from taking a step on top of the Central. Easy playoff team, probable contender.

Wild: They are bad! Penalty kill is their worst weakness, but they're not great in goal either and the combination is kicking their ass. As much as I respect how well they've done with that giant cap-space penalty from the Parise/Suter buyouts all those years ago, it's... kind of time to throw in the towel. Get Flower those final few wins, because by god are they devoid of much other success. Right at the tail of a competitive arc. RIP. Tank incoming.

Predators: Weirdly good, even though Saros hasn't been his usual self? O'Reilly esp has been an absolutely fantastic addition for the team over the offseason. No huge strengths, no significant weaknesses. Not an amazing offensive team, but it's Nashville so they were never going to be -- the place practically breeds defensive forwards and all-around dmen. I don't expect they'll seriously contend, but they'll make the playoffs (unless someone offers the farm for Saros).

Blues: I genuinely think so little about the Blues .... that whole thing with Jordan Kyrou has been the most I've thought about them for a bit. That and the fact that only three of their games haven't been decided by the first goal? They're not good and they're really boring. Yeehaw.

Jets: THE JETS let's get JUICY. Jets' biggest strengths by far are a) 5v5 defence and b) finishing/goaltending. Even with Kyle Connor out they're sniping and Hellebuyck and Brossoit are both absolutely on it. The Jets have always seemed to have this problem where on paper (take a shot every time I've written "on paper" in this post if you want to die of alcohol poisoning) they seem fantastic, then January onwards they absolutely plummet. And it's not January yet, so that might still happen, but that kind of thing tends to happen because of a dramatic morale shift, and now that Lowry's captain and Wheeler's left for New York... that might not happen? They've banked enough points that unless they're historically bad from here on out they're still a playoff team. If they keep up what they have going so far, they're a contender, but if it's the same Winnipeg with the same problems, then they're not.

Ducks: Taking a step in the right direction with Carlsson and Mintyukov, but still bad! I really hope Carlsson recovers well, he seems like a sweet boy. Also: what on Earth are they doing with Zegras. Is he a defenceman now? Are they making him play defence? Are he and Dixie D'Amelio still dating? I have many questions. I just hope whichever high draft pick they get is an idiot. I feel like they need another dumbass baby on the team.

Flames: The Flames also appear to have no idea what's going on. And frankly, neither do I! They're too good to be obviously tanking, but not near good enough to be a bubble team. They're definitely reluctant to sell, but their best hope to win soon absolutely should be selling. They have one of the worst contracts in the league on their payroll (wow... I hope the guy in charge of my favourite team didn't sign that!) and a bunch of really solid late-round picks and prospects cutting their teeth on the NHL. In short: they aren't going to make the playoffs and should be leaning into that, but they don't seem to have realized this yet.

Oilers: For the sake of not gloating, I'm going to sum this one up with a Marek quote: If you have a goalie, it's 70% of your team. If you don't, it's 100%. They've had finishing trouble, but considering they absolutely run the show at 5v5 AND special teams (they put nearly SIXTY SHOTS on Vasilevskiy the other day) a little finishing shouldn't be quite so dangerous if they didn't have two sieves minding the net. McDavid might hit 150 again and the Oil might still miss the playoffs. If they get in, they're going far, but at this point it'll be tough as fuck to make it in.

Kings: Average penalty kill. No other weaknesses. Kopitar 4 Selke.

Sharks: This is an absolutely glorious tankjob. No other way to put it. This is the pinnacle of tank design. This is the Wayne Gretzky of tankjobs. This is the Casablanca of tankjobs. This is the Saturn V of tankjobs. Nothing has been so beautifully engineered to suck since Sir James Dyson patented his vacuum or Nancy Reagan walked the earth. It's beautiful. It's gorgeous. I am in awe. They deserve Celebrini purely because of how flawless the tank is. I don't care if he has a warm undertone and would look pink in that fantastic teal. The boy needs San Jose.

Kraken: Good defensively at 5v5, bad pretty much everywhere else. I'm going to be honest with you all, last year was kind of a flash in the pan -- Seattle isn't great and they're neither headed upwards nor downwards. Not a bubble team, probably won't pick top ten. They haven't decided whether or not to build up or tank. Beyond the fantastic aesthetics and four-unranked-lines shtick, they don't really have a whole lot of competitive mojo: no star forwards, no goaltending. Wholeheartedly mid.

Canucks: oH BABY!!!!! The 23-24 Canucks made us all learn what PDO is. The 23-24 Canucks are first in the motherfucking league after being one spot out of being in the Bedard lottery. The 23-24 Canucks are on track to have the best shooting and saving percentage in league history. The 23-24 Canucks' leading goalscorer is Brock Boeser, the guy they've almost traded practically every year since they drafted him. The 23-24 Canucks started the season by naming the Wettest Little Man On The Planet captain and they haven't looked back since. I think they're an easy lock for a playoff spot -- but within the playoffs, do I know what they're going to do? I absolutely do not. They could PDO their way to a Cup or they could bow out in four games flat. Either is equally likely. They have thoroughly embraced Good Chaos. Quinn Hughes might win the Hart. Everything's coming up Vancouver.

Golden Knights: Not as good as they were last year. Ultimately still pretty good. Easy playoff spot. Definite contender. Jack Eichel is better than ever and I love him for it, the dickhead.

#asks #mwah anon thank u... this is so long under the cut KJHDKSFJSKDJFHSK #tldr: some teams are good and some teams are bad. sometimes this is interesting and sometimes it's not.

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