#but I got shapey with it and this is what happened

[turtlemurmurs]

oh my! who distorted that archivist?

#y'know I didn't really set out to do this to poor jonathan #but I got shapey with it and this is what happened #sorry jon ;; it looks cool though kajldhjd #art #my art #fanart #tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #jarchivist #tma archivist #tma jon #magpod #tma fanart #rusty quill #digital art #2024 #turtlemurmurs #I attempted an image id

[goosewriting]

ok so i revisited my spidersona design and gave it a bit of a redo (first iteration here)

more info under the cut!

i felt like in the first version they looked too much like a child because of the style, so i decided to try a more ✨ shapey ✨ one

here’s the gist of the backstory:

spidergoose was bitten by a goose that was bitten by a radioactive spider. so they have all the spidey powers as well as the ability to communicate with geese and essentially command them to attack someone lol imagine going to central park and you see a horde of geese suddenly taking off and you're like "ah yes, spidergoose is calling" xD (i had to google if there are geese in central park for this one and yes there are! and there’s also resident canada geese there? that’s marvellous, my fave kind)

spidergoose is low-key obsessed with the spot, following him around and encouraging him in his monologuing

they're a bit of an anti-hero, being selective with what kinda vigilante work they do and when. the police don’t see them as an ally at all, even less so than the real spiderman (spidergoose is from miles’ universe btw, so e-1610)

teaming up with (miles’) spiderman is rare but it has happened; mainly because spidergoose was nearby when the fight took place and had nothing better to do anyways. they have pretty fun banter.

age and real identity are unknown. they use a voice modifier under the mask which makes them sound a little distorted (think storm trooper helmet voice, but not quite as deep)

they’re unaware of the whole canon event and spider society stuff. spidergoose lies somewhere between chaotic neutral and chaotic evil, so miguel definitely doesn’t want them around; he’s already got too much on his plate lol he does keep tabs on spidergoose tho, sending in some of his spiderpeeps to check in on them from time to time

i’m gonna go ahead and establish that star wars exists in this universe, just so i can say that spidergoose likes appearing behind people and go “hello there”, and is very disappointed when someone doesn’t get the reference

but ofc their tagline still is "noot noot motherfluffer" before round-house kicking someone in the head c:

often spidergoose can be found chilling on some building talking to geese and birds, having a preference for the aquatic ones though. if they find you feeding bread to the birds, they will scold you and give you seeds and peas instead, as bread isn’t healthy for the birds and water

(i’ll keep adding stuff to this as i come up with it lol)

#as always let me know what you think and feel free to draw them! #goose honks #goose scribbles #spidergoose #spidersona

[paperboy-pb]

Now that the prologue is done, I can't thank the fans of this series enough.

No, we haven't hit any particular follower milestone. The story has just begun. And most of you haven't given me any sort of financial support to help me out, either. (And that's alright! I haven't asked, lol.)

I'm thanking you for just being apart of the audience.

I started PB in a little blue notebook during the summer of 2015. It was originally meant for my eyes only. And a big part of the reason why was that, when I googled things like "Special Ed makes me feel bad," there wouldn't be much of anything coming up. There were Quora forums! A couple of YouTube videos. Articles here and there.

But it wasn't a lot. Not enough to help me out for long. And it only hammered the idea further into my head that I was alone in what I endured. As I got older, grew up, and away from the program and people who took my disabled youth, I constantly felt this urge to talk about it. What SpEd had put me through. What I'd lost. What I'd seen & heard. The things I did and didn't learn. Even though I was never a very open kid, let alone teenager.

I hated that no one was talking about it. And how nobody knew what happened to kids like me behind closed doors. At 13 and 14, almost none of the new friends I made had ever heard a life story like mine. And I've always found that wild: I had a LOT of friends! (Still do!)

So I kept drawing it out. Kept working on the story in notebooks, sketchbooks, my friends' DMs, and anywhere else words could go. Sometimes, my family would catch glimpses of the concept art. Sad sketches of Matthew crying, freaky drafts of Monster, or tense moments between what would become Class 7-C.

And one of my parents would be like, "Why is your art so depressing?" They'd roll their eyes. And they'd add on, "People's parents aren't gonna like it!"

No, I never told them what the story was about. I never even told them it was a children's media (because it kinda isn't! I'd personally put PB as 13+?) These were judgments made with just one glance at computer papers covered in pencil strokes; sketchy and shapey little kids who didn't look like they were having fun.

I knew they were wrong. But the audacity still pissed me off. There aren't many times where it's appropriate to boss somebody else around in how to tell their story, you know? Not only that, but I also worried about not having an audience back then. Sure, all my friends loved my work. But at the time, I was the only one who'd really experienced anything "Special Education" in life. Thus, these were General Ed kids watching it unfold. Able-bodied eyes and (as far as I knew back then) neurotypical minds, watching and learning from whatever I made.

And I liked that. But that wasn't the only group I wanted to be seen by. I wanted disabled people, especially youth in their teens and twenties, to see it. That's my primary audience. And shit like that made me wonder if I'd ever find it. Had me second-guessing myself a little, you know?

But I shook it off. It's like that thing teachers always say in class. "If you're confused or have a question, ask: whatever it is, you probably aren't the only one thinking it!"

And I searched for stuff like PAPERBOY, hadn't I? Yeah. I had. So by that logic, other people definitely would be, too.

So I stuck to my guns, and... check it! Y'all showed up!

One thing I've noticed ever since publishing part 1 is that the PB Nation is pretty damn devoted. You guys have been patient, passionate, silly, and unapologetically yourselves since the get-go. And the response to every old promotional comic or post I've made has been OVERWHELMINGLY positive and curious. I've gotten fucking fanart, man! More than once! I've had the honor of meeting a few of you in person already! And for the ones who haven't caught me out with my friends in New York, believe me, I REMEMBER who comments what.

By the way, you guys should spam my comments more. Fuckin' love that shit. SPEAK TO ME, lmao. Even if it's like, the most irrelevant PB question ever. Keyboard smash in my comment sections. Send me disability reels you like. Tell me what you wanna see from the story. Whatever, as long as it doesn't bleed into parasocial territory!

I've gotta have one of the best audiences out there. So thank you! For just... being around. Here's to hoping y'all enjoy the journey we're aboutta go on.

#paperboy pb #paperboy #author's note #disability #disabled artist #disabled writer #webtoon canvas creator

[thebekashow]

I JUST FINISHED WATCHING ALL OF MORAL OREL-

!!major spoilers!! so I had only ever watched little snippets of Moral Orel, and I thought: "huh! can't be that bad.. why does nobody ever show the ending?" I know why now. and oh. my. god. on one hand: woohoo! Orel got his happy ending! on the other.. it feels very.. bland :/ I'm happy Orels happy! but at the same time, it made me wonder "what happened to everyone else?" we know Mrs. Censordoll planned on doing stuff to the town, but the sad thing is, because the Adult Swim executives pulled the plug, we never got to know what said plan is. and I know, before you say: "But Beka! they didn't have enough time!". I am fully aware of it! which is why I wish they hadn't called it off. it makes me mad that Adult Swim lets weird unnecessary shows go on forever and ever, but its too much if they get serious in it. I am glad Orel got his happily ever after, and I just hope everyone else did too. we know Reverend and his daughter reconnected, Nurse Bendy got her son back, Shapey and Block are firefighter and police. oh, and Orel broke the cycle of abuse :) thats all I gotta say- thanks for coming to ma ted talk!

(i will be making fanart of the show soon! :D)

#thebekashow #small ramble #moral orel #moral orel ramble

[themoralgoats]

got any MO headcanons you'd want to share? :)

(this is @shessolovely-ao3 btw. cannot figure out how to change my primary blog status. oh well)

Hi sorry for answering this one so late! I have a lot of headcanons these days and finally collected some more general ones (rather than ones specific to the far past or future) of varying spots on the angst/fluff spectrum and other ppl’s headcanons that I adore.

Stephanie goes out of Moralton (sometimes even Statesota) fairly often, so she has decent knowledge of what the normal world looks like. She’s shown/told Orel some things but advises him to not shout it from the rooftops.

Due to a combination of mediocre genetics in this department and the amount of unhealthy-to-downright-dangerous chemicals and materials they use generously, when the Puppingtons catch something generally relatively harmless going around (ie: a cold) they get very sick and have to care for one another quite a lot. Belwilderingly, they tend to get along the best when this happens, so Orel had tried to deliberately catch something multiple times before.

This one is from someone I forget but I love the idea that Nurse Bendy likes Disney movies! That is, unless Censordoll keeps them out of the theater because they have heavily fantastical themes and she’s a bitch. Can’t decide which to go with.

Roger probably befriended Shapey and Block around the equivalent to late season 4. That’s my reasoning behind Shapey supposedly becoming a cop in the official ending even if I don’t like that particular career for him and have hc’d it out of existence.

Bloberta might’ve learned to sing a bit better over time. Maybe I’m misjudging bc of the context but she did sound kind of off-key in Help but sounds very nice in most of the series.

Orel burned Ol’ Gunny in a fit of emotion when he was in his late teens. Expect me to elaborate on this one sometime maybe.

The majority of the scrapped plotlines (excluding the ones I don’t consider canon; Narcissism and “Please”) did happen in between Nesting and Honor. This one has some canon basis; in terms of the writing it’s much easier to imagine all that stuff happening in between those ~8 months than after, especially since it’s hard to imagine Censordoll knocking down the farmer voodoo figure in April just to finally kill him over a year and a half later (this one is less solid considering that the figurine more closely resembles Phoneycrops).

#moral orel #my hcs

[theunstablejester]

Honestly, I could make a whole bible about the last episode of Moral Orel and might as well do it someday and that means right now.

So, something that I have always liked about the ending is that we get to see the people that stopped their fucked up lives. Moralton is kinda like purgatory but for the cycle of abuse uphold by christian values so this puts us on a very: "The only way to escape is to deny what you were taught." with Orel's father being the literal embodiment of it by being the mayor of Moralton. Also, quick thing is that we see the characters that broke out of this cycle having a nice time with the families they made through the show, Nurse Bendy and Joe are seen skating together, Stephanie is seen spending Christmas with Reverend Putty and of course we get to see Christina make a family with Orel at the epilogue which is important to show what Orel and specially Coach Stopframe did.

So, Stopframe was as much of a cunt as everyone is on the show, if not just slightly less just by the fact that he is focused just on ruining a marriage which otherwise he is apathetic and self centered about others, but he very much spent eight years fucking over Clay's marriage just to have an affair with him so when Clay "cheats" on him? Of course he would have that reaction, he spent eight years fucking a marriage just for him to end up just like Bloberta... basically, he got what the deserved.

But then after his slump he sees Orel and he gets him out via one single question: "What is honorable about Clay?" which... yeah, it puts on doubt the verity of any connection found on the hell that Moralton is which has Stopframe at first trying to avoid the question via spending time with Orel, they start hanging out and he basically becomes a pseudo parental figure, just like Stephanie had fulfilled a sisterly role for Orel, but this angers Clay.

And in obvious Moralton fashion Clay is only bothered by Orel "stealing" Stopframe from him, just like how Clay's father was grown to resent him for the same when Clay was born and all the attention went to him. Literally the same situation happens once again, not even subtle about the cycle of abuse between families.

Then we see it, Orel realizes that Stopframe is having an affair with his father but in it he truly only falls more into not being capable to see something good in Clay, but after being pulled out from his apathy by Orel Stopframe realizes that there is something honorable about Clay, the fact that he made Orel is in itself honorable.

So when Clay storms in claiming that Stopframe's kindness corrupted Orel he then spouts his entire view of it all in two things, claiming that Stopframe did everything with Orel just to get close to Clay which truly shows how kindness and connection are considered fake things in his view and then the harshest out, when he finally confesses his love for Stopframe it truly shows how pathetic and selfish he is, only being capable to tell the man he loves in a desperate attempt to get him back as an act of jealously from his own son... but Stopframe rejects him, he says that it is too late, that he has already realized how lowly Clay, and therefore the fucked up place Moralton, truly is... and he says to Orel that he had fun with him.

Stopframe, being as fucked and twisted, showed Orel that people can put a stop to whatever fucked up life they lead, that there is hope and change to be found even if you grow and live in Moralton... and Orel does learn from it, he learns from all the people that actually try to do good and in turn when he is an adult he does not uphold the cycle of abuse he lived in, he is seen loving his wife, a catholic which he was taught to fear and hate, and treating his children with the kindness that he was denied.

And it shows that Orel was probably a good influence in return, seeing how both Shapey and Block end up on public service jobs, as pictured in their grown up photos, in opposition of Clay's job as mayor.

[immoralorel]

I just realized: What happened to Bloberta in Killing Two Birds With One Son? Cuz idk if it’s a good idea to molest your son in front of your wife lol XD

Did she do anything about it? Like call the police or a pastor like Rev. Putty?

2 birds with 1 son WAS going to be longer to resolve that, the ending just got scrapped because I wanted to focus on Clay and Orel only! But, a few people have asked for Bloberta's reaction, so here's my rough idea of how that'd play out.

The reason Clay wanted Bloberta to notice was to make her feel guilty. Because of their lack of intimacy, and her outright suggestion he go fuck someone else, Clay uses Orel to shame her for being a bad wife. (Not that Clay actually desires Bloberta, but he does feel entitled to her.)

And this does work. Not necessarily because she feels like a bad wife, but because she feels like a bad mother. She feels that she could have prevented it, but didn't, and if this gets out, the entire town will know she failed Orel. Image is the only thing the Puppingtons have at this point in time, so that will be her main priority. She'll wash the cum out of Orel's clothes and try to kid herself that Clay is only beating Orel. As long as Orel is clean and behaved, everything is okay.

iirc, Bloberta was meant to have an affair with Officer Papermouth later in the series. I think that if their relationship went well, Bloberta would open up to him about it. But, this would be much later than when 2 birds with 1 son takes place. At this time, Orel would've been more resentful of his dad, and likely wouldn't be having sexual encounters with him nearly as often. Whether or not Clay would face consequences, I'm unsure.

As for Clay, he's confident that Bloberta won't do anything about it, and he'll passively shame her to make sure the guilt stays. She may turn to being more protective over Shapey and Block, as it's too late for Orel. Truthfully, though, Clay would never touch Shapey or Block. He knows they aren't his, and this is a special kind of love Clay can only feel for his own blood.

#i think that covers everything! #my subtle subtle clay/arthur agenda in that last part there btw #people asking questions about 2 birds with 1 son makes me feel like I have a little fandom #wheres the k2b1s fanart you guys! #(joking... unless) #clayorel #ask

[saltedbeans]

Hello Moral Orel community, are there any roleplayers in the chat? I'm looking to try and play Clay here 👀

I've been thinking a little,, ahem;

I'm totally down for an Orel and Clay roleplay. Nothing suspect,, of course. I'm talking one of those strange roleplay ideas where Orel suddenly wakes up and everyone's nice to him. Like it's an opposite dimention, yknow? And THIS version of Clay actually acts like a father.

I'm also looking for a Coach Stopframe. Y'know, maybe we can lean into if their relationship actually worked out. Or maybe what happens if Clay finds out that Stopframe is Shapey's Dad? Or maybe Bloberta and Clay finally got that divorce and they naturally come closer after that

Or maybe just a classic Bloberta and Clay plot??

I'm a romance roleplayer, but I also dabble in angst! Though for this fandom I don't think it can be avoided 😭

I don't really have any plots, but I'm A-Okay brain storming!

I'm semi-literate to literate, so please make sure you are too. I can't respond if I have nothing to respond to!

But PLEASE keep in mind that this is my first time roleplaying this fandom and as Clay, so don't be too hard on me!!

#moral orel #clay puppington #danielle stopframe #orel puppington #Roleplay #clay x danielle #bloberta puppington

[bumblingbabooshka]

hey what are your posabule headcanons

like poppit and art??

bloc and his sister

Art Posabule: Had a similar upbringing to Clay's only his father died instead of his mother. His mother has the same personality as Clay's did only her husband's death intensified her already frantic nature and caused her to become extremely overprotective of Art. He is still very close to her (contrasts Clay's estrangement from his father) and has developed an uncomfortable codependence with her - viewing her as perfect and holding other women in his life to these unhealthy standards.

Similarly dislikes taking the lord's name in vain and the suffix '-ded'. Has a superiority complex and is not good with confrontation because he doesn't expect people to disobey him.

Is not at all close with his family but likes seeming as if he is. Greatly favors Christina (though he isn't close with her as he feels he has nothing to teach a girl) and often forgot about Block's existence even before he got left behind at the Puppington's. When Christina does bring up that Block is gone he's unconcerned, saying it's better to be an only sibling anyway. That way there's no one else grubbing up the attention! (Ironically he does not pay Christina any attention either way).

Is having an affair with another man similar to Daniel.

Did not want another child after Christina.

His job is an actual dead end job but instead of bemoaning it he pretends it's much more important than it is which leads to a twist reveal that it's a boring dead end job.

Poppit Posabule: Had an upbringing similar to Bloberta's only she was included in her family's choir. (My idea is that they seem in the Puppington's eyes to be the 'better' versions of them which would cause conflict.) She's very proud of her singing voice and is disappointed that neither of her children are up to her standards and was thus unable to create a new family choir. She is estranged from her younger sister but still speaks to the rest of her family.

She had Block similarly to the way Bloberta had Shapey only Poppit uses her brother's red hair (a recessive gene) to cover up his parentage, which Art believes.

Instead of 'helping' her thing is 'fixing'.

In "Christly Christina" Poppit would be the stand-in for Clay and the show would focus on Poppit's affect on Christina's life with Art as the stand-in for Bloberta, a mostly side character.

Poppit dislikes Block due to his reluctance to listen and carry through with things. She does notice that he's gone - deciding to try to 'fix' Shapey instead, and when that doesn't work she'd happy to be rid of them both.

Likes to lord things over people and brag but is secretly miserable in her life. She has no real sense of identity and has defined herself as 'A Mother' and 'A Wife'.

Christina Posabule: More focused on the home and the duty of women within religion rather than religion itself.

Was as naive and prone to accidental trouble-making as Orel in the beginning.

Wants to be a teacher when she grows up, though she's sure to put this after 'wife' EX: "I want to be a wife and teacher"

Because of her mischief and zealous attitude she's sometimes labeled as a tomboy by others and shunned or told to be quieter.

She makes lunches for her dad which her mom checks and throws out, making a new one for him herself. Christina also made lunches for Block, which Poppit didn't care to check.

Was often put in a caretaker role with Block.

Something happens with her arm rather than her leg.

Block Posabule: He's calmer than Shapey when alone but quick to get caught up in other people's mischief or outrage. Less angry and more of a follower.

When playing with Christina he was prone to tantrums and screaming the same as Shapey but he never physically hurt her as it was the only thing his parents would punish him for (as she's a girl).

Was not dependent on Poppit the way Shapey is on Bloberta as Poppit often paid a lot of negative attention to him in her efforts to 'fix'.

#moral orel #the posabules #block posabule #christina posabule #art posabule #poppit posabule #thanks for the ask!

[123lemon]

I really like stopframe’s character, but I sometimes get taken aback whenever I remember all the shit he did:

He went to a satanist cult and brought Orel alongside him thinking he was going to sacrifice him

He is a cheater who was with both Bloberta and Clay

He fathered Shapey and never took responsibility of him

He set on fire Figureli’s house

And that’s what I can remember from top of my head and is super insane, yet once he realized what Clay did to Orel he went: lnah” and dumped Clay’s ass

Which good for him, but still whenever I see fanart of him and Clay I feel extremely sad about the “what could have been”, because who knows, maybe they could have been happy together?

But I also got the feeling that for that to happen Clay really needs to address and sort out his issues f not only for a relationship to happen but also because I believe that any relationship Clay enters is doomed to failure if he doesn’t address his issues first

[REMINDER THAT MY INBOX IS OPEN FOR ANY QUESTIONS/ REQUESTS!!! ]Wow this is seriously I really good point! Yeah I like Daniels character too but it’s important to remember that characters have flaws as well. Even the best characters have flaws too, which is the whole point of character development 😁 I honestly feel like had the show not been cancelled, we would have gotten to see a lot of these characters have proper redemption arcs. And I cannot express ENOUGH how much I constantly think about clay and Daniels relationship. It honestly is sad bc it seemed like Daniel was one of the few people that clay actually loved. And tbh, no matter how shitty Clay was, I still have a place in my heart that feels for heavily flawed or cruel characters because I know that deep down, they only wanted happiness like the rest of us 😔

#moral orel #clay puppington #but yeah it’s sad thinking about the what could have been in clay and Daniels relationship #also don’t get me wrong I get mad at the thought that Daniel deliberately got blobs pregnant only for his own benefit

[monster-noises]

RaaAAaAAuGh

I'm all Art Frustrated, not like Big frustrated when i tty and draw and it doesn't work and i get all Big Sad but just like.. Art Gumpy and i need to grumble about it

I've run into just.. A Number of challenges working on Lazarus's main portrait that are things i run into routinely every time i paint, they aren't like.. insurmountable problems but they're places where my knowledge and skill fall short and every time i have to throw up my hands and say

"welp guess this will just have to be what it currently is cause idk how to make this work how i want and i still got Several miles to go on this thing before it's done"

It's all fiddly weird stuff like.. figuring out how to make the monotone shading layer+overlay technique work the way i want it to, incorporating the linework into the painting to get a more shapey semi-lineless vibe to match my full lineless painting style but like.. Easier, making Meaty and/or wet things look the appropriate amount of shiny and wet, getting the right feel on a loose and messy lineless background(and hinestly just in my painting in general) where it isn't just muddy shapes but it's also not distracting harsh chunks of colour, and really pushing my poses and anatomy to keep things grounded but also feeling fluid elastic and animated(which sometimes comes naturally and sometimes just Won't Happen which is always bizarre and frustrating)..

They all come back to like 2 root causes :

1) learning is hard; from knowing how to find the Right resources, to being able to execute on what those resources are telling you, to being able to then apply that to different scenerios, and have the info stick and stay Understood it's....mmmmMM... the whole process is a nightmare that never works for me. (I go through this cycle all the time of trying to push myself to find teaching resources and try and Learn about what i want to do. often I'll ask around how other people learn/do things in case y'know i have been interpreting the method wrong or there's a better way for someone with my bad brain to do these things... But every Single time all the advice is stuff i already do or is stuff I know Of but can't use because i can't make that lateral leap from Theory -> Application and there's really no one out there tutorializing That step of the process, so I just... Put it away again until I forget what happens every time I do this and inevitably stumble into the same results...)

And 2) way waaaaaay back in highschool i trained myself/was trained in a method that like.. took "know your fundamentals" in a very literal way and was kinda pushed into focusing on making everything ""right"" but rules of realism rather that "right" by how i learned and what i wanted to achieve.

It did and continues to Righteously Fuck Me Up. (Knowing your fundamentals is true and important but there are different Ways to learn and understand the fundamentals that can be very specific to what you want to do and how you learn. Trying to elbow someone into a learning format that takes their art Away from what they want it to be is setting them up for long term issues and potentially loosing their passion, but that is perhaps its whole own other post. I see big proffesionals talk about this on twitter a lot and i get so ffffffrustrated because of my own experiences but i don't say anything because i don't want to Invite twitter users to casr their eyes upon me like that.)

And i'm just UGH so frustrated.. it's all these bitty little things that I know would make my art better but all I can seem to do about it is trundle around in the dark hitting my head against the walls until i either stick the landing through brute force and luck or sit down and give up where i stand.

Cjkdso idk i don't really have a point or concise ending statement to make here it's just really tough seeing so many little ways your art could actively be so much better and closer to what you want but those ideals remain juuuuuust out of reach because you have Brain Don't Work Disease and a rather controlling friend in highschool (_=<=)_ =3*sighs*

#monster noises #i'm a Notorious over-renderer #my instinct is to keep detailing and tightening and detailing and tightening #and it can really derail things to get stuck in that loop #which is when my art that is supposed to be fluid and full of motion #made of strong defined shapes and colours that flow and blend into like.. harmonious movement #always turns out more.. detailed and often perhaps challenging to read #the Ghosts of those strong basic shapes and looks are there but they're clouded by this pervasive semi-realism that sticks it's landing #just a liiiiiittle too far on the side of realism #Harumph Harumph #my severe time and energy restrictions sure don't help none either #but if i start thinking about that i will Genuinely get sad so lets Nooooot go there

[goldgalaxytea-fanfics]

Expedition Yeti Dick

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M, M/M, Multi, Other

Fandom: Walt Disney World

Relationship: Expedition Everest Yeti x Reader

Characters: Expedition Everest Yeti, Reader, You

Additional Tags: Smut, Lemon, Porn, NSFW, Sex, Reader Insert, x Reader, gender neutral reader, Female Reader, male reader, no specific pronouns used for reader, no specific genitals described for reader, Expedition Everest Yeti has a big pp, Massive Cock, Yeti's dick is 3ft long and 1ft wide, Crack, Crack Fic, Disney World, Animal Kingdom, Expedition Everest ride, Creampie, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Fingering, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, reader is 18+, Reader is Yeti's Cum Sock, Jokes, Bad Jokes, Dirty Jokes, do not take this seriously, Bad Writing, Purposely bad writing, Disney is into some kinky shit, Reader wants Disney to fix the yeti, They really should he deserves more then disco mode :(

Words: 809

Summary:

Feeling bluer than Stitch's alien ballsacks, you left your friends behind and went to ride the greatest ride ever-

*cue an over the top dramatic drum roll*

Expedition Everest!

Notes:

🎉HAPPY BIRTHDAY SAMI🎉

As promised, your Yeti fic!!!!😂💕 I hope you enjoy this dude🥺💖

You were on vacation at Disney World with your super duper looper amazing friends. Sounds like a pretty awesome time, right?

Wrong.

No one wanted to listen to your presentation on why Disney should fix the amazing yeti from Expedition Everest. The big furry cutie deserved to move and not just be stuck in disco mode for literally ever!

You had the PowerPoint up and ready on your phone every time you were all waiting in line for a ride, but everyone was stinky and told you to stop simping over an animatronic and so you shit on their shoes. 

Feeling bluer than Stitch's alien ballsacks, you left your friends behind and went to ride the greatest ride ever-

*cue an over the top dramatic drum roll*

Expedition Everest!

So for the entire day you rode the coaster over and over again, forcing everyone in line to listen to your PowerPoint and making them sign your petition to get the yeti fixed back to tip toppy shapey.

Before you knew it it was dark as fuck outside. That meant the park would be closing soon *sad face*

Sadly you got into the coaster cars for your final ride. If only the night didn't have to end…

You were so fucking sad you didn't even notice that you were the only one boarding the ride.

Fuck yeah! You screamed internally once you realized you had an entire train to yourself. I get to have the front seat!

Mood bibbidi bobbidi lifted you happily strapped yourself in and with a borderline orgasmic scream the ride began!

Zipping and zooming along the tracks you were in a state of pure bliss! It was so fucking fun you felt like cumming right then and there.

It was all shits and giggles till you got to the part with the yeti and the train suddenly stopped yo what the fuck-

But (hehehe but) before you could freak out about being trapped in heaven, an ever awesome miracle happened! The yeti was moving!!! Maybe they finally fixed it-!

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH THE YETI PICKED YOU UP!!!!!!!

The big brown boi held you in his massive hairy hands, his sexy lifeless eyes staring at you like you are an all you can eat buffet. You shook violently from his lusty stare, heat quickly filling your crouch. You couldn't control yourself, the yeti was just too god damn sexy.

Despite your horny state you wanted to cry, you couldn't fuck the yeti. He was a family theme park animatronic so he didn't have a GIANT MEAT STICK THAT WAS BEING RUBBY DUB RUBBED AGAINST YOUR HOLE WHAT-

If you were to metaphorically take a measuring tape and measure the yeti's peen, it would be 3ft long and 1ft wide! Which makes sense he's 25 feet tall. Big people have big pps!

Speaking of… wtf was Walt Disney into? Not that you were complaining cuz it meant that the yeti could fuck you into tomorrow(land).

With a start you noticed the yeti's robo fingys had ripped your clothes off while you were busy kink shaming Walt and were now forcing them into your privy parts. Somehow his hand sausages were magically lubed. Okay seriously what the hell Disney-

Loud ass moans and groans spilled from your mouth as he fondled your juicy insides. Before you knew it your hole was gaping wider than the entirety of Disney World and the yeti was preparing to penetrate you with his ding dong.

With a mighty yeti roar he rammed his hairy pp inside of you with one mighty yeti thrust. A scream tore your vocal cords as his cock tore open your insides. His big ole yeti sausage was wayyyyy too big for your tiny human meat hole. You were too lost in the dick sauce though to feel your organs being rearranged like a home makeover show. All you felt was 100% all natural pure pleasure.

The yeti pounded away at your insides, pace super fast and hard and rough and s p i c y. Your orgasm was approaching faster than Test Trek. With a yeehaw you nutted, body spasming as it was overtaken by how fucking awesome you felt.

Soon after the yeti bust a nut in your tight heat, roaring loudly as he kept pumping his thick gooey jizz deeper into you. Once again wtf Disney. Why the heckle do your animatronics cum? Holy shit do they all do that? What if-

Your train of thought broke off as you passed out, literally fucked unconscious by robo yeti dick. The yeti disposed of it's used cum sock, aka you dear reader, back where it found it.

As soon as he placed you back in the train it started up and zoomed back to the station.

This wasn't going to be easy to explain to the cast members…

#x reader #reader insert #expedition everest #disney world #animal kingdom #expedition everest yeti #yeti x reader #yeti #disney world x reader #disney x reader #expedition everest yeti x reader #expedition everest x reader #lemon #smut

[namjoonchronicles]

rkive | nj

↳ namjoon, you

↳ 5k words

↳ 1/3 ‘take your wife to work’ fic

↳ husband!namjoon, domestic au, fluff

A soft caress on the side of his face as he lay asleep in the middle of your bed, invading the side that you assigned to yourself. You glide your hand down the length of his shoulder down his forearms before leaning down for a trail of kisses all over his cheeks.

“Wakey, wakey, baby…” you brushed your lips and spoke in gentle hushes, “you told me to wake you up at 8.30am, it’s now 8:35.”

He moans sleepily in return, eyes shut while his hand wildly search for the ends of the duvet, attempting to pull them up to cover his shoulders again. Of course. You passed the opposing wall a blank stare, the I-knew-this-was-gonna-happen face. You climbed on the bed, over his sleeping body, and to the curtains before yanking it open. Namjoon did nothing more but whine, rocking his body side to side--just like a child throwing morning tantrum. “Come on,” you knelt next to his lanky legs, his toes peeping out the ends of the duvets that didn’t manage to cover his whole being. He sat up after a while and leaned his forehead on your back. “I’m so sleepy…” he murmured.

“I can see that, so I brought coffee…” you reached the back of his head with your right hand, fluffing his bed hair. You feel him smiling against your back and how his lips moved to the back of your neck. “This is honestly why I married you…” he added a low deep chuckle that wasn’t intentionally sexual.

“Glad to be your honorary coffee maker…” you retorted and switched to face him, sitting on the bed still, to cup his face, “I am extremely underpaid.”

He began thumbing your side with a drowsy smile, almost drunken, chuckling. “With added benefits, I believe…” he pursed his lips, with his heavy-lidded eyes, fishing for a kiss. You clicked your tongue after a quick peck and pushed his face away before he could deepen them, giving him a lopsided smile, “In this economy? Sounds too good to be true if you ask me…”

“Am I asking, though?”

You took in a steady inhale, and your eyes turned into thin slits, peering at your husband and his snarky reply so early in the day.

“You will treat me with respect. You will treat me as a wife,” you prodded his chest with your index finger, “Or you will no longer have one.” You cocked an eyebrow and moved away from the bed despite him holding on loosely, “Hurry the fuck up, the pancake is getting cold…” you disappeared outside. Namjoon pushed both the heel of his palm on the mattress with a smile playing on his lips. His wife is feisty and he loves it. He won that conversation and he knows it. As soon as he stepped outside with the mug you coaxed him awake with, your phone camera was on him. He is being followed very closely.

“May I know what these footages are for?” He said, looking down the water washing down his mug. You zoomed into his fluffy arms. He wore tanks to sleep and his BCG Vaccine scar showing up pretty nicely from the distance you were filming him at.

“For days that I terribly miss you,” you passed, “Because even though you’re always on your phone, you never have time to send me a cute self-portrait, so I’m making a video for myself…”

He fills his mug with plain water now, leaning against the counter, his black tank showing his ribs from this angle, he took a mouthful sip before talking through the mug, “For days you missed me? Am I hearing this correctly?”

You nodded from behind the camera, and Namjoon lifts his face and placed his mug aside, “Come here,” he ordered.

“Why.” “Just get here.” “No.” “If we’re saving that for our times away, shouldn’t there be a memorable scene.”

Intriguing, you thought.

“What do you have in mind--” “--you know what I have in mind.”

You had to stop recording because he was getting rather bold with his words and facial expressions. Sitting on one chair, you sat on his lap while sharing a plate of pancake, drenched with honey. You grimaced at the first bite he fed you. “How are you eating this much sweetness…” you commented.

“To chase away the bitterness of the coffee…” he shoved another bite-sized into his own mouth. You set your phone to lean against the vase, to shoot horizontally. “We’re back filming?” he asked, his palm gliding up and down your lower back, glancing once in a while at the camera.

“Is this camera going to follow me when we arrive at the studio building later?” he asked, looking at the food and then at you for confirmation. “Yes… you have a problem with that? You want to sue me for it?” you challenged him a smile, biting your lips and he broke eye contact immediately, scoffing. “Can you afford the legal fees going against me?” Namjoon licks the residue honey on the corner of his lips. “Now you’re just showing off your big dick energy, big boy…” you circled your arm around his neck and retorted, “Isn’t that what got you interested in the first place?” “Wow, almost six years of marriage and you still don’t know that I’m only after your money,” you nuzzled the tip of your nose on his.

Namjoon closes in, whispering hotly against your mouth, “I don’t care if you’re only using me for my money, I only want to earn for you...honey.” He embraces your lips with his own, kneading the flesh together in a rhythmic motion, with literal honey still lingering on his tongue, fully aware that your phone is filming his every move. He made sure that his tongue made a glimpse as it enters yours, him passing a glance at the lens from the corner of his eyes as if to remind himself that he was being recorded.

“I want a copy of this footage later,” he spoke in hushes, against your ear as you give the camera your clothed back. His dark brown eyes darting at the camera as he sinks his teeth onto your shoulder, playing the staring game with it.

“Who cares about what you want,” you darkly chuckled.

Brushing your teeth next to each other become a routine, now that he’s home more than he leaves the country. He pokes your side and pinched your cheek at any chance he gets, so that’s something. Something about being home with him felt natural but extraordinary because he rarely gets to do so in the early years of your marriage. “You know, when you rap, there’s this vein on the right side of your neck protruding out, and I think it’s so sexy…” you traced the length of the vein with your index finger, tiptoeing next to him, by memory.

“You think everything I do is sexy,” he shot back, and spit out foams into the sink before rinsing off with little thought. “But am I wrong though,” you pushed his entire body as he bends over with little strength, and he stumbles to the side a bit.

He leaves the bathroom with a playful kiss on your clothed butt cheek, hollering, “Of course you’re right. You’re always right…” on his way out. “You’re choosing my outfit today!” You reminded him.

“Got it!” He yelled from the walk-in wardrobe.

“I’m thinking of something sophisticated yet modest...something shapey but not too tight, maybe a little loose,” his index finger on his chin as he trudges forward then back repeatedly, “I’m thinking Versace?” He took out a printed silk blouse with blue pants.

You walked out with a black purse, commenting, “I look like a rich man’s mistress on a Mallorca getaway, spending his hard-earned money while he fucks another 19-year-old blonde, and I get to purchase a very handsome male companion with an Italian name like, Emanuele, whom I bore a child with; so I can get a run for the rich dude’s money when I file for divorce.”

Namjoon let out a delicious moan, “Very scandalous. I like it too.” He lifts his butt from the couch and followed you out the door.

“But if you were my mistress, I wouldn’t be fucking anyone else and Emanuele shall never exist. It’s just you, me and Mallorca,” he shut the door behind him and it automatically clicked locked.

He fastens his seatbelt while you fixed the rearview mirror because it’s been tilted in a weird angle after a sudden roll in the car the other day. You just can’t stop touching each other whenever you guys were left unsupervised. This is why you both have no friends apart from his members. “If you liked the veins in my neck, then I love the sexy mole on the apex of your left thigh…” the belt clicks while the car engine hurls on.

“How on earth did you remember I have a mole there? What’s with the sudden compliment about my body?” you eyed him with suspicions read all over your face. “It’s super sexy. When I think of it, I get super horny? Also, you have like three very prominent moles, from my memory… the thigh, the pinky toe and one behind your right ear,” he clicked his tongue while the car moves out the parking lot.

“The details of that description is honestly disturbing,” you shot, steering the wheel with both your hands, “We’re not going to be long in the studio building right? I don’t trust you being there with me without getting handsy, knowing your touchy ass.” You eyed him up and down, giving him a side glance with a slight warning. “Whenever I see you, I don’t want to behave…” Namjoon leans over to your side, grinning.

“See, this is what I’m talking about…” you darted emotionlessly.

You have never been inside of Namjoon’s office. Not since they moved. Namjoon said he renovated his studio again, changing the soundproof walls--or as you call it, sponge walls that offers a great cushion for any rough acts. Both of you are terribly explicit and have too many inside jokes for anyone to keep up with. Most of your friends can’t tell if you both were fighting or basically roasting each other to no end. The sarcasm gets too raw and merciless at times, coming from two very sensitive people the world had ever seen. Namjoon and you are like lovers who secretly hate each other when you’re around people and strangers, but can be very lovey-dovey when it’s least expected. That’s why when you took yourself inside the building after waiting for about twenty minutes in the car, you declared an insult to Namjoon who was on the phone at the time.

You immediately retracted silently and blinked repeatedly. Even as he extended his arm at you, you were cautious at the receptionist who was there waiting on her work station, standing up at Namjoon’s wave--that indicates he needed a paper and pen. You stood next to him as he listens attentively to the caller. When he hangs up, he scribbled a few more words that made no sense to you. “Babe, I think our trip is going to drag a bit longer since someone will be expecting to meet me in an hour,” he underlines a name twice and the receptionist bowed to you while Namjoon used his keycard to gain access inside the staff-only area. You saw that the place had large lounges.

“Can I expect an exclusive building tour with my husband?” you gave a pair of hopeful eyes and he was honestly so whipped for you, that it took very little for him to abide by your request. He had always wanted to offer you a tour of his new studio. Since he had been actively requesting several rooms and units in this new building to be made under his orders.

Staff lounges. Game room. Pantry. Everything is sleekly designed, with modern vibes. High ceiling and good lighting.

“This is where Taehyung sometimes lives, the game room,” Namjoon used his keycard to gain access to the exclusive room. “Where the recording studios at?” you wondered and Namjoon’s face switches into a goofy smile. He pointed his thumb to the hallway behind him, “This way, ma’am…” he walked sideways in order to continue looking at you.

The studio was everything you imagined and more. The intricated equipment on display, the recording booth. Your lips parted slightly in a wide smile, at awe of the place your husband spent most of his time in. This is where Namjoon regularly works in. He’d be sitting in one of these chairs, monitoring the recording session with high fidelity headphones around his head. You imagine him being all serious with his music and your heart flutter like a schoolgirl having a crush on a bad boy down the alley she wasn’t supposed to fall in love with. Namjoon pulls a chair out and sat at the same time you did. You couldn’t stop scanning the whole room with sparkling eyes. You never thought you would see it in real life. You’ve heard many songs recorded in this very room and you couldn’t help being absolutely awestruck.

“Where do you sit?” you asked him. “Right in that seat, you’re sitting in, recording engineer. BangPD sits here and Pdogg hyung, on that chair, usually,” he pointed to the long couch in the room.

You rested your elbow on the armrest, your chin on the heel of your palm, spinning softly in the chair that belonged to him. “Look how far you’ve come… this is. This is amazing, you’re amazing, you know that baby?” you gave him a glance, pursing your lips and returned your attention to the setting of the studio. Namjoon appeared bashful and you didn’t have to look at him to know that he’s turning red. “I’ve always wondered about your early days...how you began. How you bravely chose a path none of the people in your shoes would. You go against the wishes of your folks, and take the storm head first,” you paused, speaking with a little shake of your head, and, “Why are you so goddamn brave? What triggered you? Who was Namjoon before he is Namjoon? Do you know how much hazards there is for boys your age to embark on a hiphop journey? Drugs? Prostitution?... missing classes? The horror your parents must have faced, you naughty boy.”

Namjoon covered the upper part of his face, hiding his laugh right after, giggling. “I wasn’t a naughty boy…” he said.

“Sure you are.” “Am not, I promise…” he rested both of his elbows on his knees, thigh widespread as he sat facing you. The view of the studio as the background from your side, “I just remember wanting something so much that my inside feels like it’s ripping if I ever abandon it. I knew, I just knew that I want to be a musician, no matter how difficult it was going to be, or whom I may lost on the way...even if it means, myself. It’s not just hiphop to me, I found family, a brotherhood, a pact, a passion I couldn’t find anywhere else…”

You mirrored his actions, and touched the tips of his fingers with yours, lacing and unlacing them, “You’re capable of everything. That’s what your teacher told you.”

“Yes, I was capable of a lot of things… but none of it appealed to me. I could bow under the demands of conventional educational system, do what I do without an ounce of soul in my power--forever wondering if this was the life I truly wanted, knowing that I’m good at something else…it was very difficult to tell my father, especially,” Namjoon reminisce, his eyes dropped to the floor as the pain clearly never left his mind.

“You were starved for days, and stood at a corner within a circle as a punishment,” you spoke in place of him. He drops his head and then nodding. His pocket money was taken away. He had curfew. His family did everything they can to prevent Namjoon from seeing his brothers from the hiphop scene. He skipped classes while simultaneously doing well in his studies despite pouring his entire passion into music instead of his school books. The boy who sleeps in the back of the class from attending rap battle almost never failed any of his quizzes and exams. His treaty with his parents was as follow: if I manage to maintain a good score in classes, you’ll let me do music.

You cupped his chin in response to his silence, and made him stare into your eyes, “I, am proud of what you were, what you are and what you’ll become… and my love may not be enough to fill the holes you have in you, all the flaws you thought you have, and shortcomings that you’re afraid of showing… but I will always have your back, through thick and thin,” you granted him a chaste kiss on his lips, making a squeaking sound, “Even if we ever end up divorcing.” You smiled against his ear lobe. “If I ever made you think about divorcing me, you can rightfully pull me by the dick and I’ll make you want me again,” he commented.

“Can I go in there?” you pointed to the booth. “Absolutely,” Namjoon shot.

He watched you skipped towards the entrance of the recording booth with a fond smile. The speaker buzzed on, and the green light above turns on while the white tile outside the studio indicating, “In Session” lights up, simultaneously.

He lowers his mouth to the microphone, and pressed the intercom button before he speaks. “There’s a headphone on the neck of the tall stool if you put it on you’ll hear my voice better… without the echo,” he watched you put on the very headphone and you gave him a gleeful thumbs up like a kid putting on a fire suit at the fire station tour. Such an excited little baby, Namjoon thought.

He increases the receiving volume and told you that the microphone in the recording booth is up and ready to receive any sound and that you could say anything you want.

“Nice tits,” you bit your smile and pointed to him while drawing a heart shape with your index fingers. Namjoon gave you a fool in love grin, with a dumbfounded chuckle. Of all the things you could have said, you settled on that. This is what he loved about you. The fact that you could be tastefully affectionate, riddled with deep conversations he truly enjoys--at one point, and be an idiot, the next. It’s true what they say, that the union ripens with time like a fine wine. The longer you were together, the more you’re helplessly in love with one another. The secrets to the everlasting marriage? Consistently hitting on each other to no end.

Namjoon had to leave for the meeting. He is monitoring a recording session in the studio next door and at first, you were there to watch him work. But after a while, you felt like you haven’t finished exploring the entire building. As he stood by the chair of the sound engineer-in-charge, you tugged on his sleeve to have him leaning down so you could whisper in his ear. He nodded in return, crossing his arm, putting on his work mode as he straightens up. You grabbed your purse from the black long couch to leave the studio in a hurry and grinning excitedly all the while. Before you leave, Namjoon reminded you to, “Be careful. Keep your phone on at all times…”

Not long after you stepped out the studio, Namjoon tutted his tongue, shoving his hand to the back pocket of his jeans for his keycard, before rushing out the same door. His keycard at the end of the lanyard dangling meters away from the floor. You spun around at the call of your pet name and sped back to him. He had his lower half of the body inside the studio still, wanting to make sure you get access to all the rooms in this buildings. You kissed his chin and put the lanyard around your neck, turning away. Namjoon watched you enter the lift and you waved back at him enthusiastically. He is very much enamored by his wife. 

You’ve always wanted to know what it’s like to be in their wardrobe area. Most of the attires are owned by the company, and the stylist sometimes designs clothes that would suit them.

“No, I want my Gucci’s here today!” You heard a fairly familiar voice, coming from the hidden halls of the large space intended for clothes’ only. “Taehyung?” you guessed. The pretty boy came out from the dividers as if he walked out of a magazine shoot. Pink tinted glasses, flowery printed dress shirt with striking yellow trousers. Wrist decorated with multiple bangles and rings on fingers. Once he locked his eyes with you, he puts away his phone immediately. The person on them was still talking. He taps the ‘end call’ button and you blinked at him.

“Mrs. Kim Namjoon…” he recalled, letting on some sleazy drawl at the end of it. His expression was nothing at all polite. “Who’s day did you ruin with that abrupt end call, Taehyung…” it wasn’t a question, just a mild reality-check for the fantasy-stricken boy who sometimes needs to be called out.

Taehyung visibly shrinks twice in size as he plopped on the couch next to you. “...what’s bothering you sweetie?” you rubbed his back, joining him.

Taehyung took some time to reveal what’s on the inside, but that’s just typical Taehyung. He’s a little-guarded soul with glittering fences. Let’s so few in, but entranced all others. How could he not, with his handsome good looks and honey-dripped voice. He wanted to become a good lyricist, just like Namjoon is. You could tell their work apart because even though Namjoon’s work is poetic, Taehyung prefers to fall into the beauty of imagery as well as metaphors. Taehyung has a vivid imaginations a fellow artist and writers share, but he describes it differently.

“Retail therapy isn’t a thing, is it, noona?” he added an awkward chuckle at the end of it, laced with the bitterness of a lonely soul. “It is only a thing when you do have money,” you replied honestly, and from the sparkles, in his eyes, as he beamed at you, you knew he appreciated the sincerity.

“I’m trying to write a love song, but it had been sitting on my desk for about a week now… I kept trying to imagine a situation of being in love, but I’ve never been in it, so how will I write something I know nothing about…” his shoulders dropped as he sighed out the words, “I kept getting dissatisfied with the imagery I come up with, feeling that it’s not enough or too much… Namjoon hyung won’t have these problems, would he?”

You propped your elbow to rest on your knee, chin on the heel of your palm. Your wedding ring sparkling under the light of the hall. Nose scrunch as you showed disagreement on Taehyung’s accusations. Your eyes shot to the corner of the room along with a click of the tongue.

“Namjoon has a different approach on solving writer’s block. Yours happen to be retail therapy, and Namjoon, well Namjoon, sometimes he reads a comic book.” “Namjoon hyung has you. I have no one…” “That’s not true! Sometimes when we both deal with something difficult, we don’t talk about it to each other from the get-go, and that’s one of the flaws in our marriage that we’re still working on,” you paused and inhaled, “Being in love and staying in love are two different things… love is flawed. It’s nothing perfect. Listen, about your songwriting… Have you consulted anyone about it?”

“I’m consulting you…” Taehyung goofs, “But literally I’ve spoken to everyone including Yoongi hyung about it, but nothing helps.” “Your efforts will pay off, buddy,” you patted his forearms twice, “...maybe you’re too focused on it and it has stopped you from viewing in another perspective.”

“You guys talk back each other a lot, even in front of us, is it really like that back at home when no one sees?” Taehyung asked, and you could see from his face that he was a little amused. “Sometimes, I mean… Namjoon and I, we don’t hide anything from anyone. What you see is what you get. If I don’t like something he’s doing, I’ll call him out on it. Vice versa. We tease each other to no end, if that’s what you’re asking…” you shrugged. “Do you guys ever fight, like really fight…” he mirrored your movements, clawing his chin, as he scratches the stubbles under his jaw. “Definitely...Definitely,” you stressed on the second time you said it.

He’s stubborn, you’re stubborn. You want things to go your way, he wants things to go his. You’re all about managing finance, and he’s all about spending it. He wants a house outside the country and you want one close to home. You talk about priorities and often questions his. Emotional, spiritually, physically.

“Things will change when we have children, I promise you,” Namjoon once said. The way he laid it out so frankly, didn’t convince you one bit. This conversation has occurred once too many time and you’re starting to feel that the marriage you built on this foundation is beginning to brittle underneath the weight of his fame and responsibility. “I hope so…” you said in a whisper, barely believing what you said.

“I guess in marriage there is a lot of tolerance and understanding? Because when we think about the things that we did in order to build this relationship as strong as it is, makes you want to keep it that way, even through the occasional ‘earthquake’ and ‘mudslides’... He got options, I got options, but we’re here now, and that’s all that matter isn’t it?”

His lower lip protruded out, as he was thrown deep in thoughts. The common understanding is that love and marriage co-exists, but the longer a couple stays together, the more their friendship is put to the test. That’s why it’s important to befriend your partner before falling in love with them. At least, when the love ends, the friendship remains.

You excused yourself for wanting to see the rest of the building before Namjoon comes back and wanted to go home. It’s not every day you could roam around the most famous building in the country, home to many famous producers and their studios. This is basically your version of Disney World. This is where the magic happens. Seokjin once took a picture of the building rooftop garden and ever since you saw it, you’ve always wanted to take a look at the views from up there. It was as breathtaking as you expected.

The blue cloudless sky is turning to orange zest, floating in the air as the sun descends to indicate the day is almost ending. You’ve been here all day.

“It will take two minutes, he says,” you spoke to yourself, “It won’t be long, he says.” You carefully leaned your elbows on the wooden rails to watch the busy streets downstairs. All the red light and the white light decorating the traffic underneath you. Busy people everywhere. All rushing to go home to their loved ones, finding food and winding down after a hectic day. Namjoon never gets to spend that. He never was the one for a 9 to 5 job, because to him, inspiration can strike him anytime. There was this one that he stopped in the middle of eating because he had an idea on how to change the beat after the chorus belonging to a track. Or this one time he sat in bed, stripped down after a steamy lovemaking session because he knows what verse to write. You’re still salty about that.

Not because he started working right away. But because he doesn’t give himself a time to be just Kim Namjoon, the Kim Namjoon that has a wife and a normal life. Is this what he’s going to be when he has a kid, later?

We’ve spoken about kids before. We spoke about that a lot.

“I guess in marriage there’s a lot of tolerance and understanding…” your own voice piqued your thoughts as you rode the waves of reminiscing.

From Namjoon’s point of view, he understood that you too had given up so much for his work. You were patiently waiting at home, dutifully understood your responsibility as a wife, the homemaker, and he knows what troubling thoughts you might had had whenever he’s away. Just the same as he is.

As he works, as he tries to tirelessly be present in this studio where he stands, you are always in the back of his mind. And things don’t change even if he’s out of the country, performing, lecturing, educating, analyzing, designing. He ensured that you get calls from him, texts from him, pictures of what he’s doing and where he was. Always making sure you feel safe despite the distance. Because he saw how little you thought of yourself because he saw how your smile faltered when he spoke to his stylist, because he caught the hesitance in your voice when you feel slightly inferiored. He understood all the thing you didn’t have to say out loud. Because it’s hard to be in love when you’re two continents away.

“Because hey, you’re the famous one between us two,” Yeonjun spoke through the microphone. He got the pronunciations clear and in pitch. Namjoon slammed the stop button and tapped the pad of his index finger on his chin. “Alright, go home. We got it,” Donghyuk--also known as Supreme Boi; managed the recording with little hiccups. Yeonjun skips outside, beaming because it had been a long day for him as well. Namjoon gave him a shoulder squeeze and acknowledged his skills. Donghyuk carefully wraps up while noticing that Namjoon had plunged into exhaustion onto the black couch. “You gotta go thank your wife for that line, bro,” he gushed. Namjoon shuts his eyes and laid the back of his head on his wrist. “I’ll tell her that…” he drifts. Donghyuk spins his chair to face Namjoon, and tilted his head to one side, “I thought you said you came here with your wife?”

Namjoon rolls off the couch and dashed out the door at once. He tried to call her but she was on the phone with someone else. He walked past the pantry, past the lounge, past the wardrobe hall--but she was nowhere to be found. She’s not in the cafeteria too.

Namjoon headed back to his studio and there you were.

Sleeping on your side, on his black couch, curled in a ball. Koya the koala plushie in your arms, you don’t even use the armrest as your pillow. Namjoon slowly shut the door, making as little sound as possible, and knelt next to you. Wonders in his eyes, his dimples shallow and his lips curved into a small gentle smile. Softly, he tucked your baby hair behind your ear and thumbed your cheek. He ghosted his lips over the skin just above your eyebrow and shut his eyes as he stamped a kiss on them. You didn’t even stir, you must be really tired. He hooks his finger on a drawer underneath his work desk and took out the blanket you knitted for him to use on his nights away from home and spread them on you so you could stay warm.

With the lights dimmed to perfection, Namjoon manages to move you on top of him. “We have to head home…” he whispered. And it your dazed state, you said, “I am home.” Your nails scratching the thin fabric of his shirt, as you nuzzled your face into his chest where your ears are pressed against the soft thuds of his heartbeat.

“Home is wherever Namjoon is.”

And whenever he isn’t around, you’re homesick. He placed his palm over the back of your head, and slide it down your spine and then up again. With a soft exhale, he shuts his eyes and held you tighter--in the comfort of his studio, Rkive.

“So…” he begins, flickering eyes towards the on-going streets and then to you, who was driving beside him, “There’s no chance I’m going to get the footage you had been earnestly recording, right?”

“Correct,” you shot. The car radio plays rather dimly, in the background, just as preferred. You had a feeling that Namjoon will exercise his rights as a husband or as he’d like to call it, your non-negotiable life partner to gain his portions of the videos you made for his own selfish pleasure, so you attempt to hide the smile that was itching to get out, because right here, is where he lay out his arguments.

“You know, I’m the one that came up with Jungkook’s nickname ‘the golden maknae’...right?” he slowly shifts in his seat, covering his philtrum with his index finger, panning the view outside the moving car. “Known fact for someone who had been supporting you for a while, yes…” you quirked, in an elegant tone of someone who has the upper hand of the situation.

“Don’t you ever wonder if I were to give you a nickname, what it will be?” “...no, not really.” “A dictator.” “You’re just picking fights with me because you know you won’t get your hands on the videos. Are you seriously going to call me a dictator because I didn’t give you what you want? Did it ever occur to you that you don’t deserve the footage?”

Namjoon lands his palm over the expanse of your clothed thigh, a very possessive gesture that you’ve grown numb to. “Let’s negotiate…”

“Negotiate what…? All the negotiation is not up for discussion.” “I can make your footages a lot spicier.” ‘I like them sweet and bland; unlike your corrupted mind.”

He smirked, “Do you? Do you…?” “Siri, play Do You by RM.” And just like that, his smirk is gone. There’s no changing your mind, is there? Namjoon has to be a tad more creative. But he liked the challenge.

That’s why the moment he stepped into the apartment, his eyes darkens and his lips turned into a Cheshire grin.

Read the rest of ‘take your wife to work’ fics!

#rkive #bangtan bys #bts #bts fnafic #bts fics #kim namjoon #namjoon #namjoon scenarios #knj #nj #bts x reader #bts fanfictions #namjoon smut #rm #kpop #namjoon x reader #angst #husband #husband bts #bts sma 2019 #namjoon x y/n #reader insert #fluff #namjoon imagines #namjoon x you #namjoon x oc #marriage au #domestic fluff #husband fics #domestic au

[the-shipping-machine]

MTF Mr. Brass AU Part 2

After what seemed like hours, our helicopter reached a small village that was close to our target. Ironically, the village was also close to the site that Joe nuked. I wonder why the foundation only found him now.

They lived in a caravan on the hill at the far side of the village, next to a forest.

“Shall I send a dragonsnail to scan the area?” Money asked, pulling out his case full of these tiny creatures.

“Send the tracker,” I answered. “It’ll be easy for us to catch Mad, but Joe’s gonna be a bit more difficult. Send it after him.”

“Got it, cap!” Money said as he ordered a tiny grey dragonsnail to fly.

“It’ll send me a sign when it lands on Joe.” Money explained.

“Good.” I said. “Jeffrey, prepare your molasses-magic-thing. It’ll help us in case of a chase.”

“Already working on it, B!” Jeffrey giggled.

“Sweetie, I’ll need you to distract Mad.” I said.

“Why, because I’m a woman?” she asked.

“No, Sweetie. He’s gay and ace. And also, he’s YOUR BROTHER.” I sighed. “You should do it because you’re the one with the best relationship with him.”

“I was kidding, mate.” she said. “Fine.”

“Don’t do this again, please.” I said.

“I’ll wait in the helicopter and be in charge of the communication, right?” Soap asked.

“Correct,” I said. “You’ve gotten used to that job, aren’t you?”

He giggled.

“It landed successfully!” Money suddenly said. “I got their location now!”

“Okay, everyone.” I said. “It’s showtime.”

Jeffrey and I hid behind a bush and watched as Sweetie lured Mad outside of his trailer. Joe seemed suspicious of this, yet said nothing.

Neither of them seemed to notice the grey dragonsnail on Joe’s back.

“Now!” I told Sweetie on the communication device, and without waiting, she pushed Mad on the floor and tied him up.

Joe noticed us and seemed to understand what’s happening. 

“They work for the SCP!” Mad yelled. “Run!”

And so Joe did.

“Money, Soap, we got a chase,” I said. “ Sweetie, bring Mad to the helicopter. Jeffrey, come with me. Money, update us on his location.”

Sweetie carried the struggling tied man to the helicopter, and Jeffrey and I started to run after the other.

“He’s running to the forest!” Money said on the radio. 

“Of course he would,” I said. “Pretty expected.”

The forest was filled with eucalyptus trees, and seemed to be used as one of the village’s parks. There were roads, camping sites, benches and signs everywhere.

Joe was fast, but we could hear him breathing. He wouldn’t be able to run for so long without wasting energy. He’s a human, after all.

“2428 has been successfully brought to the helicopter, cap!” Sweetie said. “Although he’s a bit shocked.”

“Good job, girl!” I said.

“Brass, he’s running towards the parking ground number B3. Turn left on the camping site and keep running.” Money said.

“Jeffrey, is the molasses ready yet?” I asked as we followed Money’s instructions.

“It’s been ready for a few minutes, man!” Jeffrey answered, showing off some tricks on the run.

“When I tell you, use it as a barrier,” I told him.

We saw Joe. He mannaged to break a car’s window and got in. He’s got the engine running and...

“Now!” I yelled.

With one movement of his hand, Jeffrey delivered a wave of the slimy goo and turned it into a flying circle around the car. Joe wouldn’t be able to drive out of it.

As soon as he got out of the car, I charged at him and pressed him against it. We tied him up and brought him to the helicopter, where the rest of the team was waiting.

“Brass, what’s the mission status?” Dr. [REDACTED] asked on the radio.

“2428 and 1504 have been successfully captured,” I said. “We’re on our way back.”

“Good.” he answered.

“What the fuck, Brass?” Mad asked. “Were you all working for this bullshit?”

“Yup.” I answered.

“Since when?!” Mad asked.

“Three months after you escaped, there was a mass containment breach.” I began to tell. “The church of the broken god took part in this. Some of the misters took this opportunity to escape. We did the smart thing and helped to end this mess. The broken god is now terminated.”

“You terminated a fucking GOD?!” Joe asked.

“Yeah. It felt good.” I said. 

“Are any of the other misters still in there?” Mad asked. “Are they also in the MTF?”

“Well, Shapey, Chameleon, Forgetful and LD stayed,” I answered. “Neither of them is in the MTF, but Shapey and Chameleon are researchers now.”

“Wow, y’all really are morons.” Mad answered.

“Excuse me?” Soap asked.

“You guys rather be in a fucking prison instead of living a normal life.” Mad said.

“Mad, we’re SCPs,” I answered. “Neither of us would ever have a normal life, no matter how hard we try. We weren’t born to be normal.”

“Plus, you’re the one who fell into my trap. Not us.” Sweetie added.

The dragonsnail jumped off of Joe’s back and flew over to Money, who gave it a treat.

“What the fuck?” Joe yelled. “Is that how you guys found me?”

“Kinda?” Money said. “We knew about the village, just didn’t know where to look.”

“Are we going to be re-contained?” Mad asked.

“Unless you guys would like to join us, then yes.” I said.

Mad and Joe remained silent.

“Take your time to think about it, okay?” I suggested.

Shapey waited for us on the landing site, along with some security staff members. He wore a lab coat that somehow mannaged to fit onto his amorphic body shape, and had his famous poker face. 

“Were you worried about us, Shapey?” I asked as the guards took Joe and Mad to their cells.

“Prehaps.” Shapey said. “Even if I were, I wouldn’t admit it.”

“Chicken.” I laughed.

“You’ve done a good job today.” Shapey said. “Congrats on your first, actual mission, guys.”

“Thanks.” I said.

Jeffrey walked over to Shapey.

“Are there any news about the Miss’s whereabouts?” he asked.

“Since you’re unable to give us any details about her appearance and stuff, we’re currently stuck.” Shapey said. 

“Jeffrey, when you’re ready, I can gain access to your memories in order to help.” I suggested. 

“Yeah but... how can you guys figure out anything?” Jeffrey said. “Everything is black and white.”

“I’ll try my best to decode the memories,” Shapey said. “Whenever you’re ready, kiddo.”

“Okay, Dr. Shapey!” Jeffrey said and skipped over to the entrance.

“He’s a good man.” I said as I watched him. “I can’t imagine what it’ll do to him.”

“What are you talking about?” Mad asked.

“He doesn’t realize he’s been abandoned, Shapey.” I said. “I just... I know the feeling, but I don’t know how to help him.”

“I can see that you care for him, Brass.” Shapey said. “Right now, you can be there for him.”

“I know.” I said.

“Now you should get some rest, kiddo.” Shapey said. “You’ve worked hard today. Maybe get some coffee or something.”

“Someone should fix the machine, then.” I said.

Shapey rolled his eyes as I walked over to my room, taking off the uniform and went to bed.

That was one hell of a mission, eh?

---

First part

Next part- Coming soon

#little misters by dr. wondertainment #little misters #scp little misters #scp #task force!misters au

[panikpanikpanik]

It's a weird place to be in rn. Paper is sold in the price of gold, so now I'm kinda glad for my hoarding tendencies coz they allowed me to gather so many sketchbooks and blocks for multiple use notebooks. Like, I know about extreme consumption, but now it's really handy.

I got my first tooth (actually, 8 on right side of upper jaw) removed a couple of days ago and still have visceral flashbacks to that feeling and sound. I paid for more then I earn per week. At least less then two weeks worth of payment.

And also I'm listening to "Cat's Cradle" by Kurt Vonnegut. I have a lot of books on my shelves, but... I feel like this one is something that I need to hear. It's actually the second time I read it, first one was when I was a teenager, just vibing in my parent's newly bought dacha, little country patch of land with a wooden house and place to plant whatever, from vegetables to flowers. Nearest town with trail way was about one hour of walking, but I usually got there by bycicle, once per day. Got some ice cream and bought cheapest books I've ever seen on local market. That were moderately old books, most of them were one-time-read, like ironical detectives and bad action literature, but there also was a lot of classic literature, from classic-classic to genre classic. And there I met Vonnegut's book. The same one. I've heard something about his "Slaughterhouse #5", but not about this one so I gave it a shot, in my room, sitting on bed with chip sleaking sheets, with stripped pattern on green walls, with big never fully closed shelf and white door that didn't have any way to close it but only to shut it with fear of never being able to open it again, with sounds and sun from the window. There was a bar in this room, but I never saw it filled. My parents and our neighbors drinked alcohol before it could end up there. Plus, father preferred beer at that point in life, and nobody (at least from what I know, I have never been a heavy drinker myself and now I'm drinking only on family reunions so I have no idea about this side of drinking culture) put beer in a bar. But I liked it anyway, idea of hidden stash. Food thing is that my parents weren't stereotypical drinkers, they were closer to intelligencia who was just so happened to be into it.

So, I sit there, and after finishing the book I just stay frozen for a while. Because I'm filled with fear. Not that nice safe kind of fear, but more of existential nature. End of the world. So simple. Just a bit of ice, and everything is over, frozen. Only that cult built on lies to make people's life a little bit more bareble... No, it didn't survive. Of course it couldn't. They simply died quickly. Because of all things that led it to that exact moment. It was... Something. It was easy to read, but it broke me a little, I think. Not sure if it was a good way or not, I was broken long before reading it.

And now I'm just tangle cat's tail just to write a little bit more, before I'll go back to listening to it again, now in original, not in translation. I don't remember reading something as dimensional and shapey as that.

Probably should finish his other books after that. I have "Mechanical Piano" on my bookshelf, simply because for a short time I was into distopias and it was the first one and it was from the author I knew.

It's... A weird place. Listening about the day world ended when it could end soon. No. It won't. Only humans will.

There is no such thing as "ice 9".

[the-shipping-machine]

Big brother

summary: You’ve heard of big brother Redd and little brother Smiles, now get ready for Big brother Hot and little brother Money.

A/N: In this AU they can age.

The nine-year-old Mr. Money sat in a locked tiny room in one of the world’s biggest office buildings. He was about the be traded again. He was scared. He never wanted to live a life of a property, especially at the young age of nine. He sat there, facing the wall, hugging his knees and crying. These rich people are bad, and he was forced to be with them.

He expected the door to be opened at any minute. He expected one of those rich scumbags to pull him aggressively and yelling at him, or humiliating him in much worse ways. It was always like that.

What he didn’t expect were gunshots and screams. 

“Where is he?” he heard a familiar voice of a young child with a soft Italian accent, yelling angrily at one of the people.

“Why should we tell you?!” one of the rich people yelled with a shaking voice.

Money didn’t want to listen. He covered his ears, continuing to sob as the yellings kept going. Then finally, a few gunshots were heard before the door was busted open, and Money felt someone touching his shoulder.

Terrified of who that might be, he began to scream and fight the hands holding him, before realizing who that was.

“Money, it’s okay.” his 13 years old brother, Mr. Hot, told him in a soft voice as he was pulling him into a tight hug. “It’s me.”

“H-Hot... I...” the nine years old said before bursting into tears. He cried onto his brother’s shoulder as the older one picked him up from the ground.

“I know, little guy.” Hot said, holding his brother in one hand and the gun in the other. “Let’s get you out of here.”

Hot ran all the way to the first floor as his little brother closed his eyes so he won’t have to look at the dead bodies. They got out of the building, where two of their older siblings, Mr. Shapey and Mr. Moon, were waiting for them in a silver fiat.

The two of them got into the back seat and Shapey drove the car away.

“Money, you alright?” Shapey asked.

“I... I don’t know...” Money said in a broken voice, shaking in his seat.

It was hard for Hot to see his little brother being this terrified and shaken. He pulled out a green dragonsnail out of his backpack and handed it to the child, who stared at it with shining eyes.

“You always told me you want a dragonsnail.” Mr. Hot told him, giving him a warm smile. “Got you one in green. I know you like that color, so... yeah.”

“T-thanks.” Money smiled a little bit as he held the winged snail.

“Hot, don’t tell me you shot people.” Mr. Moon said. “And if you did, please tell me there are at least a few bullets left.”

“Ah...” Hot said as he checked his gun. “No. No bullets left.”

“WHAT?!” Moon yelled as Shapey tried to hold his laughter and failed.

“It’s not my fault they were more than one guy!” Hot said. “Plus, I said I’d do what it takes to rescue Money and bring him home.”

“Home?” Money asked. fear was felt in his voice. “T-to dad? He’d put me on the market again and-”

“Relax!” Shapey said, cutting him off. “I got a big house for all of us. Far from Wondertainment.”

“How did you guys pay for it?” Mr. Money asked.

“There are some things you’ll never know the answer to.” Mr. Moon giggled.

“We used Wondertainment’s credit card.” Mr. Hot said. “He’s gonna pay our bills.”

“What if he’ll find us?” Money asked, allowing his new pet to climb onto his shoulder. “He’d get us separated again!”

“It’s gonna take a while for him to figure it out, Mon.” Hot said. “Right now you don’t have to worry about it. Okay?”

“Hey, Hot?” Mr. Money asked. It was the middle of the night.

“You’re still having nightmares about being put back into the market again?” Mr. Hot asked his 14 years old brother. 

Mr. Money nodded.

“It’s been four years since you rescued me.” Money said. “But... I don’t know if we’re still safe.”

“Mon, if something happens, I promise I’d protect you.” Hot yawned.

“Can I sleep in your bed tonight?” Mr. Money said. “I’d feel safer. And Rodney has grown so we don’t have much space for the two of us on that bed.”

Mr. Hot looked at the sleeping green Dragonsnail. He was a lot bigger than he was on the day he gave him to Money. Rodney was almost as big as a male Boxer dog. 

“Sure.” Hot said, moving a bit to the side so Money can have his space.

The smaller one got under the cover, still shaking from that dream.

“It was that bad?” Hot asked. “Want to talk about it?”

“H-he killed you...” Money said. “And it was my fault... I couldn’t do anything...”

Hot hugged him, assuring him it was just a nightmare.

“I’m still here.” Hot whispered, looking into his sobbing brother’s eyes. “I’m not done with his world yet.”

He hugged his brother until the small one finally fell asleep in his arms. His dark brown hair laid softly on his forehead and his tiny movements in his sleep didn’t bother Hot at all. He felt like a mother bear, looking over her sleeping cub. 

And with the calm of her cub’s safety, the momther bear fell asleep.

Four years later, Brass came home with bad news. The news Money was scared to hear.

“Wondertainment...” Brass said in panic, quickly closing the door behind him. “He found us! Dad just fucking found us!”

“We gotta leave.” Mr. Shapey said.

“He’s gonna take me back to the market...” 18 years old Money said, shivering with tears in his eyes.

“He won’t.” Hot said, coking his gun. “Mad, Shapey, Sweetie and I will fight him off. Go with the rest.”

“But-” Money said, looking at his brother in terror.

“I said go, Money,” Hot said, as Wondertainment began to bang on the other side of the door. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Money was quiet for a few seconds, before pulling his older brother into a hug.

“Just...be careful, okay?” Money asked.

“I’ll try.” Hot answered. “Be careful as well.”

They were already at their hideout. Money walked back and fourth, waiting for Hot to return in one piece, as Rodney was crawling beside him. He was worried more than ever, and his heart was beating faster with each minute pass.

Two hourse later, Sweetie and Shapey entered.

“Where’s Hot?” Money asked as soon as the went through the door.

“With Mad.” Sweetie said.

Money looked behind them and saw one of his biggest fears coming true. Mad carried the unconscious and bleeding man.

“Hot has been shot.” Shapey said. “He’s not dead, but he got injured pretty ba-”

“Hot!” Money cut him off and ran over to the other two siblings. Mad looked at him with a sad expression.

“He’s gonna be okay. Didn’t lose too much blood.” Mad said. “He passed out from the pain.”

“How did it happen?” Money asked, looking at the bullet hole that was a centimeter close to Mr. Hot’s mechanical heart.

“Let’s just say, Wondertainment mannaged to trigger him.” Mad said. “He said something about sending you back to the market, and Hot just charged at him.”

“So...it’s my fault...” Money said, staring at the ground with tears in his eyes.

“No, it’s not-” Mad tried to calm him down, but Money ran crying to his new room before he could finish the sentence.

Mr. Hot opened his eyes, no longer feeling the pain in his chest.

The first thing he saw was Mr. Brass giving him a water bottle.

“G’morning, princess.” Brass said. “You finally woke up.”

“How long have I been like this?” Hot asked.

“Three months.” Brass answered as he assisted the man to get out of the bed. “Now Sweetie owes me money. She thought you were a goner.”

“How’s Money doing?” Hot asked.

Brass fell silent.

“Brass, how’s Money doing?” Hot asked again, this time in an annoyed tone.

“Not great,” Brass asked. “He... he blames himself for your injuries. He barely gets out of his room...barely sleeping or eating anything... One time even caught him trying to set himself on fire.”

“Where is he now?” Hot asked, worried as hell.

“Guess.” Brass answered.

Hot walked as quick as he could across the building until he finally found Mr. Money’s room, and that was thanks to the green Dragonasnail looking at Hot with a sad look. Even Rodney was worried about Money, huh?

He entered the dark room, where he saw his sobbing brother sitting on the bed and covered with a blanket. His hair was a mess, and the dark bags under his eyes grew bigger. He truly wasn’t doing well.

Hot sat on the bed. Money didn’t even bother to look.

“Go away, Shapey.” Money mumbled. “Just leave.”

“Who said it was Shapey?” Hot said, giving him a soft smile.

Money quickly turned to look at his older brother, eyes wide open and tears beginning to form.

“H-Hot... You’re okay!” Money said, surprised and relieved at the same time. “S-Sweetie said you’re a goner! I...”

Hot quickly pulled him into a hug, allowing the small one to sob onto his shoulder.

“I’m so sorry.” Money sobbed. “I-I didn’t want you to get hurt because of my nightmares... I-”

“It’s not your fault, Mon.” Hot said. “He might have said that thing about you, but I was the one who charged at him. Not you.”

“But...” Money said.

“No ‘but’, Money.” Hot said. “You don’t have to destroy yourself over something I did. I know I was hurt and I made you worried, but I want to help you.”

“I know.” Money said. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re apologizing too much.” Hot giggled.

“Sorry-” Money began to say, but realized he’s just apologizing again. “Frick.”

The two of them burst into laughter, and it was just like the good old days.

Momma bear is back in town.

#money is legally isn't allowed to slur #little misters #scp #don't tag as ship/kin