#I have gotten hate comments before and while I cringe at what I made too. there was no reason for them to give me that hate.

[privaterecording1clips]

I have been away since the MCC, and I haven't been really posting things or keeping up with the group activity. Imagine my fucking reaction when I wake up on a Sunday morning to Discord exploding over night.

I have some conflicting emotions towards CCs talking so openly about fanfics. Part of me is glad that they acknowledge our existence, like I know a few of them are here, and even seen my own posts, like OMG MY STREAMERS KNOW I EXIST. And fanfics, it's huge! It's a step up from liveblogging and headcanon posts, it's a fanart in its spirit, but painted with words, and similarly poured the author's soul into.

But there's like that thing with...prejudice? I've seen people mention fanfiction in Chilled's streams before, and in yt as well, and there were not exactly positive opinions. I know they were talking about there being very few smut works, but it feels like they were bringing them up the most, and it's just frustrating to not be understood in the right way. After all, everything we do here, and everything we write on Ao3 is us expressing our love and support in the ways we can, none of us have any malicious thought or want to be hurtful and spread hatred or smth.

Do you think there's a world where they could speak of Tumblr/Ao3 part of their community from a bit of a different angle? Do you think that fanfiction should be acknowledged and spoken about more?

(Also, I know it's stupid, but I feel just the tiniest bit salty. I wrote good stuff, why won't they talk about me too?!)

Yeah, I have very conflicting emotions about it too. (Mostly I feel betrayed by whoever was linking Platy fics LMAO)

Tumblr and Ao3 get a bad rap for being “cringe” I guess. Personally I think that they are the only places left on the internet that are well-known and not too corrupted by capitalism and algorithms (especially Ao3 my beloved). But I really don’t give a shit - I hate cringe culture with a passion.

But yeah. It’s the whole thing of like. You can’t post works on the internet and expect people (especially the streamers themselves) to just not see it? Because it’s out in the public. They have every right to view it.

But, I’d personally rather my fics NOT be spoken about on a livestream, in front of thousands of people. That’s just my preference, because honestly the reason I post fics at all is this is a very small fandom, and they won’t blow up or be noticed and judged by multitudes of people. I’m far more comfortable with a small audience, and I would not want my fics to be mentioned on stream where lots of people (far too many for my liking) may go looking for them. (This is why I post more about PR1 than mcyt, even tho I love both equally).

But i think if the streamers are fine with fanfic being posted, I see no reason for people to hate on fanfic??? In fact, I see no reason for people to hate it at all? You can inform someone that a creator is uncomfortable with fanfic/certain types of fanworks and ask them to take it down without being a hater. Decency is not difficult, and when you’re in a fandom that is not against fanfic and stuff I don’t see why you’d ever waste your energy hating on something that literally doesn’t effect you?

It’s the same thing with any type of hate comment. If there’s no reason to be upset by something other than the fact that You Don’t Like It, take some preschool advice and walk away. It doesn’t concern you. (Btw Tasha, I don’t mean you specifically, I mean the Royal You!!! Sorry if this was confusing I just realised lmao)

Sorry for getting pretty serious, but I am just quite upset by people who discourage artists when they haven’t done anything wrong.

That said, if a creator has expressed a desire to not have fanworks made of them, then I implore you to respect their boundaries. It’s just the kind thing to do.

[iluvloganhowlett]

I HATE YOU PT. 2 .𖥔 ݁ ˖

in which logan runs into you once more and works things out

part 1

warnings: mostly angst, some fluff at the end, happy ending woohoo, mutant!reader

so the x-men timeline is actually fucked so i def altered it a little so ignore that😝 this is placed around x-men (2000) and X2

“y/n?” this was the last person you expected to see when trying to teach a simple class. yet here he was, right in front of your 2 eyes.

you looked as the kids began to rile up, a chorus of “hi mr. howlett!”s erupting from the group.

logan flashed them a small smile before returning his attention back to you.

he begins to step closer to you, but you stop him with a simple glare. “class you work on the takedowns we practiced last class, i need to step out for minute. no powers, okay? we need to work on that.”

once the class had gotten started, you slipped out the door and made your way down the hall to talk privately with logan.

“y/-“ “what the hell are you doing here?”

suddenly it felt like you were back at your apartment years ago; logan and some red thing at your doorstep.

“no, doll. the better question is what are you doing here?”

you pace back and forth, cracking your knuckles anxiously as you try to come up with the words to say.

“i-i’ve worked here for years? since you went missing,” you stated, your words dripping in venom as you looked logan in the eyes with a hateful look.

“logan i thought i made it clear back then that you were the last one i wanted to talk to- for a while.”

logan only shrugged and smirked, still leaning on the hallway wall, “forced proximity?”

you lunge, pressing your arm into his neck with full force, pinning him to the wall. “you’re funny,” you retort with a sarcastic smile.

“i get that a lot.”

your left hand stabs your claws into his abdomen; just like the good old days. “i get that a lot too.”

“god, logan! why the fuck are you here?!”

“i work here, sugar.”

you pull a face, as if that’s no excuse for him to show up here. “cut the bullshit, lo. what- are you stalking me?”

logan scoffs, “well, we both know i would if i wanted to.”

“what the hell?”

he only sighs, “y/n can we just work this out? please? i’m tired of following you around like a lost puppy for years.”

“so you have been following me,” you smirk.

he stutters, “alright- now y’know that’s not what i meant.”

“sure sugar,” you mock, releasing him from under your arm.

logan rolls his eyes, “do you ever drop it or…?”

“do you ever stick around?”

you watched as logan tensed at your words, looking down at the floor, and you immediately regretted it.

“look- i’m sorry for how i acted the last time you tried to come back into my life,” you sighed.

“y/n…”

“it’s just hard thinking everyday, for 9 months, that the person you love the most is dead.”

logan groaned, moving closer to you and taking your arms in his hands, “you don’t think i know that?! do you know how many times in my life that someone has taken the person i love to get through to me? i spent those 9 months wondering if you handled yourself and were still gonna be in that damn apartment when i came back,” his voice broke and you watched his eyes shift from frustrated to almost pleading.

you scoff, “yeah because i can’t handle myself.”

“you don’t know that!”

your lips curled. as much as you wanted to shoot a snarky comment about not knowing that he would come home, you could see it wasn’t a good time.

his grip loosened, “please. please y/n just give me another chance and i will tell you everything. i’ll be honest, and ill tell you where im going before i go, yeah?”

your eyes flicker between his eyes and his lips, “ya promise?”

“i promise, doll, i’ll do anything you ask just plea-“

logan was cut off by your lips on his, which he gladly accepted, lifting a hand to your face and one down to your waist.

“y’know,” you began, ghosting just over his lips, “this was probably the only part of you i missed,” you joked.

“shut ya mouth,” and he did just that.

im cringing😮 i hope this is good bc i hate it🥳

taglist!!

@velvrei @spazwayy @oatmilkriver @sseleniaa @mei-simp @wittyjasontodd @wolverinesangel @realsimpbitchshit @pickuptruck01 @keigohawks @thereallchristine @zeeader @pink-jello-fish @twinky-wink @malfoys-demigod

[f1goat]

his teammate + lando norris x part three

In which you find yourself getting closer to your brothers new teammate who's a dick.

lando norris x fem!verstappen (sister) + cursewords + eventually smutty i wrote this before, but i'm rewriting it because i missed somethings. you can comment if you want to be added to a taglist :) thanks for reading!

masterlist x playlist

Lando has always been impulsive. When he was younger, he tried to control his impulses. Just like his parents told him to do. Since his successes in the racing world, he doesn’t try to control them anymore. His impulses make him stronger on the race track. He likes to say and do anything he wants without thinking about the possible consequences like hurting someones feelings. As if he cares about something like that. He’s aware that he turned a bit arrogant, but he blames his succes for that. Who wouldn’t be arrogant if they were him? Every girl wants to be with him and every guy wants to be him. He likes that. He knows he’s good looking and that the girls want him for his looks, money and fame. But he doesn’t care about that. He likes it most of the time to be himself. When he takes the time to overthink everything, he doesn’t know what to think about it. 

Sometimes he wondered how it would be if he was still in contact with his parents. Other times his friend Max tells him that he’s getting too arrogant and needs to think a bit more. He knows he has an attitude, but doesn’t that make him himself? Who would he be without his rude behavior? Lando doesn’t even know anymore. He does know that he doesn’t want to think about that. He likes himself. End of discussion. 

Lando knows that he’s one of the most hated guys in the motorsports right now. It’s hard to miss. Although he tells everyone that he doesn’t care about that, he sometimes finds himself thinking and caring about it. Sometimes he even thinks about bettering himself, but most of the time he doesn’t act any different. Until tonight. 

You have made an impact on him. It was an impulse to text you. After you saved his ass - by offering yourself, he felt the sudden urge to thank you. When he came home, he texted Christian for your number. When he didn’t respond quick enough, Lando called him awake. The short text conversation that he had with you, made him feel good. Of course Lando is well aware about that being a bad sign. He can’t even remember the last time he felt good after texting with someone. He keeps telling himself that he only likes it because you talk back to him. It’s been a while that a girl was actually honest with him. 

He can tell himself that, but deep down he knows it can be more. He just hopes that it’s not.

Lando can’t sleep. He decides to search for your Instagram. It’s not hard to find. Lando barely uses Instagram anymore. His notifications are making him crazy, just like his DMs. In the end he handed over his login to some mediaperson from McLaren, who passed it on to someone at RedBull. He cringes if he sees his own posts. Lando takes his time to look at the photos you have posted. He notices you post a lot. He reads your captions, cringes a bit at the sponsored posts but he secretly love the real captions you post. Before he knows it he’s many years into your Instagram feed. 

Lando smiles when he reads the caption you once posted after your brother won his first formula one championship. Now he thinks about his new teammate, he regrets how he acted towards him. Maybe Max and him could have gotten along if he tried a bit harder in the beginning. It often surprises Lando how much he has in common with his teammate. He discards the thoughts and scrolls further. 

He notices all your highlights on your profile as well. There are many of them. Without even thinking about it, Lando watches all of them. Because of those highlights he finds out that you’re having a free year after graduating from your study. Apparently you’re spending the whole year visiting races with Max. Lando likes that idea. It means he will see a lot of you this year. After watching all of your highlights he decided to follow you. 

He scrolls a bit on his Instagram feed. It’s full with photos of you now. It doesn’t take long for him to be distracted. He sees your name popping up on his screen with a new text notification. 

Y/N: should I feel honored to be one of the twenty people you follow on Instagram?

Lando can’t help himself and laughs at your text. It seems like he isn’t the only one with an attitude. 

Lando: I think you should

Y/N: I think you want to fight with my brother again

Y/N: he’ll notice this soon enough and will question you about it

Lando: so?

Y/N: don’t make him mad on purpose by using me pls

Lando: i just wanted to follow you princess

Lando: no secret agenda 

Y/N: okay, but Max will still question you about this

Lando: I’ll just tell him that I like to follow hot girls ;)

Y/N: that’s even more stupid

Y/N: but thanks x

Lando smiles at his phone. 

Y/N: how did you get my number Lando?

Lando: goodnight princess

Y/N: ur annoying

Lando: goodnight princess xx

Y/N: fy

Lando: gladly ;)

Lando keeps smiling at his phone. He feels stupid because of it. You don’t react anymore. He gets it, his last message might have been a bit bold. It was the truth however. He would gladly fuck you. Maybe then you would get out of his system. He knows it isn’t a solution. And to be fair, now that he thinks about it. You would probably never get out of his system when he can fuck you. Lando imagines you standing in that short white dress. Why did you wear white? The innocent color makes him feel all kind of things. He tries to shake off his thoughts, but can’t succeed. Mindlessly he scrolls on his Instagram feed again. He refreshes it. 

A new photo of you pops up on his feed. Oh for fucks sake. It’s a picture of you in that godsaken white dress. He takes his time to look at the picture. Since when has a simple picture this much influence on him? Lando decides to leave a comment on your post. He comments a simple heart eyed emoji. After that he puts his phone away and tries to fall asleep. 

+++

When Lando wakes up the following morning, he first looks at his phone. Why does he have this many texts? He also notices a lot of Instagram notifications. Didn’t he put them out? He sighs. Firstly he looks at the different texts he has gotten. 

Max Verstappen: Don’t use Y/N to annoy me. Leave her out of this.

Christian Horner: Online meeting with Max & me at 13:00. I’ll send you the Zoom link.

Social media manager: This is why you don’t do your socials yourself!

Social media manager: Please don’t let the internet think that you’re dating Y/N

Dating Y/N? Is this because of his simple comment? Lando sighs. He actually doesn’t get social media anymore. It was just a comment. Not some love declaration. He notices that you have also text him, the only text he’s actually excited for.

Y/N: you’re such an idiot that it’s actually funny

He’s quick to respond to you. 

Lando: What did I cause? 

While waiting on your reaction, he checks his Instagram. He sees over a thousand notifications and the most of them are all from his reaction under your post. Was his comment so weird? He reads some of the comments underneath his own. 

User1: ariana whatcha doing here?

User2: ooeeh what if they’re dating and that’s why Max doesn’t like him???

↳ User3: ur delulu 

User4: she’s too ugly for Lando

User5: why is everyone so obsessed over this???

↳ user6: because Lando never uses his insta

↳ user7: he never leaves a comment 

↳ user8: so this must mean something :))

User9: jealous

User10: first he pushes his new teammate off track and now he flirts with his sister, poor Max

↳ user11: this season of DTS is going to be insane!

Since when is Instagram like this? Lando has no clue what is happening. About what are all those comments talking? He just wanted to get a bit of your attention with his comment. Not the attention of the whole world. Lando closes the app and opens his messages again. He’s right on time to see your text pop up. Before answering you, he sends a thumbs up to Christian his message. He ignores Max and his social media manager. 

Y/N: i already thought you didn’t understand instagram anymore lol

Y/N: your fangirls are monitoring everything you do on your socials

Y/N: so the fact that you’re commenting for the first time in months (?) means something to them

Lando: oh fuck

Y/N: ur an idiot

Y/N: succes with my brother and christian

Lando: thanks princess x

+++

Lando is glad that his meeting with Christian and Max is online this time. Max looks like he’s ready to fight with him again. He’s surprised Christian doesn’t ask any questions about his nose, which is a bit bruised up since yesterday night. Maybe Max already informed him. He wouldn’t be surprised, Max and Christian are like a father and son. Christian spend his time by lecturing Lando about how to use Instagram and what impact a comment can make. Lando bites back his tongue sometimes. He nods like a schoolboy at everything Christian says. Later Christian informs him over the online harassment girls have to deal with when they’re linked to a formula one driver. This time Lando is actually paying attention. He never knew about all this hate on those innocent girls. He wonders what this will mean for you. Is your inbox already full with all kind of terrible messages? Hateful messages about his comment? Lando starts to feel guilty of his impulse action. Without asking it, Max already answers his question. 

“Y/N her phone is blowing up because of this,” Max states annoyed, “I told her to ignore the messages, but I don’t know if she listens. This is all because of you Lando!”

Without thinking about it, Lando responds truthfully to Max. “Fuck,” he sighs, “I didn’t know about any of this. I’m sorry. I just wanted to leave a comment.”

“Why did you even want to leave a comment?” Christian asks, “I thought you didn’t like her.”

“Yeah, is this to annoy me? Because you really need to leave her out of that,” Max adds angrily. 

Lando sighs. He thinks about a good reason to justify his comment, but he can’t make one up. He just thought you looked hot in the picture. He still thinks so. He just wanted a bit of your attention. Is that so bad?

“I thought it was a nice photo,” Lando eventually says.

“Since when do you even follow her?” Max questions, “And why do you follow her?”

“Yeah, you don’t even follow me,” Christian adds. 

Lando feels himself getting annoyed. “I like to follow hot girls,” he states annoyed, “and you’re not a hot girl Christian. Be glad I follow the RedBull teampage.” 

Max starts to look even more angrily. Christian just sighs defeated. Before Max can say anything, Christian speaks up again. 

“Listen boys, if you both keep behaving like this things won’t work,” he explains, “We need to fix this tension between the two of you.” Neither of them say anything back to Christian. Max is still sending angry glances through his webcam. Lando is pretty sure they’re meant for him. “I chose you Lando because you can challenge Max, but this isn’t what I meant with challenging. I don’t even know how everything went this wrong. You two have a lot in common, just act friendly with each other and you will notice soon enough.” 

Max sighs defeated. “I’ll try,” he says, “but you need to leave my sister alone. I don’t want her to be dragged into this mess and I certainly don’t want you to hurt her. I know your reputation Norris.”

Lando almost confesses that Y/N is different from any other girl. This isn’t some meaningless flirt with even more meaningless sex. He’s actually interested in the sister of his teammate, but now doesn’t seem the right moment to confess something like that. So he keeps his mouth shut. 

“She’s always with you, it’s hard not to speak to her you know,” Lando states eventually, “and if I need to get closer to her, I’ll probably get closer to her as well.”

“That’s right Max,” Christian agrees with Lando.

“Just don’t see her as another one night stand girl,” Max mutters, “and please don’t try to date her.”

“I don’t see her like that,” Lando confesses, “and I promise you I won’t use her and won’t hurt her. But I can’t make any promises about dating.”

Max lets out a big sigh, but nods defeated. 

“I’ll find you when you do hurt her,” Max threatens. 

“I think I’ll find myself first,” Lando mutters. He doesn’t even know why he said something like that, but he feels the truth in his own words. Where is this feeling coming from? Max seems interested in his answer as well. Before he can question anything, Christian talks again and ends the meeting. 

part four

[impishjesters]

Jax-in-a-box Part 2

warning(s): suggestive/implied sexual content/language, potential out-of-character Jax (look you're just so big and it's distracting okay... let him be distracted and have thoughts), bratty(?) Jax note(s): I swear this wasn't intending to go down this route of horny rabbit man, but I was feeling some dom/sub vibe and it just happened I'm so sorry, I don't know why I'm like this. A/N: I wanted Jax to feel teeny so the reader is at least 9 ft/274 cm minimum. Man, Pomni must look like a step stool next to the reader... Also, this would take place at some point in the dating stage. Also, this is the same original requester of the Jack in the box reader, thank you for requesting more this was really fun to write~ request: I’m just requesting a little story if your up to continuing that request. So what l’m thinking is just a little scenario of the reader completely coming out of their box for the first time (well the first time they were caught) Mabye the scenario has Jax coming into reader’s room unexpectedly and seeing reader chilling outside their box? Though of course you can do/write anything you’d like for this. I’d like it if you made the reader even taller, since they are actually standing this time instead of being in their box.

While being inside your box brought a level of comfort your bedroom couldn’t provide, that didn’t mean you didn’t use it. No, the privacy of your bedroom was used to stretch your legs—something the others, specifically Jax, hadn’t known about. Not that it was a secret, you just loved seeing it wrack his brain as to what lay beneath.

The box sat abandoned, lid wide open as you lay in the provided bed just a few feet too small for you. It’s not like Caine had expected someone as tall as you after all, you aren’t even sure if Caine is aware you can even exit the box, but you made do and got yourself nice and comfy to relax.

You plucked up an interesting-looking book earlier from Caine’s weird collection of provided reading material. Nothing risque sadly, but you can’t help but feel like Caine has never even read any of these and merely plucked them from whatever and just willed them into existence.

The next hour easily passed, nose buried into the book, so much so that you didn’t even hear the jingling of your locked door being forced open. Hell, you didn’t even notice until he said something.

The first thing Jax saw was your box, empty, his eyes shifting to the bed to see long legs dangling off the bed before he realized who it was. Well, of course, it was you, it was your room and it was locked.

“You have fucking legs?!”

You snorted and finally looked up from the book, Jax looked completely flabbergasted, and fuck, if only you had a camera. “Just normal legs, but they could do that too.”

Jax didn’t even have it in him to retort to that little comment, no he was far too focused on the fact you had fucking legs. He’d been entirely convinced that you didn’t have anything below the waist, it’s like that box had this weird black fog that looked like a void you were just coming out of. There are so many questions he wants to ask…

How the fuck do you fit in the box with legs that long? Do you sit with your legs crossed or on your knees? Do they just vanish into that weird black void? Have you been just weirdly seat-jumping around this whole time?

He’s so caught up in his thoughts he doesn’t even process that you moved to sit at the edge of the bed, legs crossed at the ankles. It’s not until you clear your throat that he realizes how close he’s gotten and wow, you’re just sitting and you’re able to look him straight in the eye. Is this awakening something in him? God, he hopes not.

“What can I do for you, my little cotton tail?”

You loved the dumb little pet name, he claimed to hate it and it stuck. If he was gonna call you all sorts of dumb pet names he was going to get at least one of his own.

Jax cringed at the name and rubbed his face as if that would get rid of the growing blush. “Stop it with the name would ya?”

“Then stop calling me Jack.”

He waved his hand before snorting out a “Nah”.

“Fine, at least stop calling me Boxxie.”

“Oh c’mon, it’s cute.”

It was your turn to cringe, he only called you that because he was convinced you were a box when you first showed up. A sentient box, how fun. “Was there a reason you came lock-picking into my room?”

“Tsk tsk tsk, I’m not a heathen to stoop so low as to lock pick.” he held up one of the many keys in his possession. “I used a key.”

A chuckle left you, accompanied by an eye roll. “Yeah okay, that I didn’t say you could have but it’s you so I’ll let it slip. Now spill cotton tail.”

Jax’s face scrunched up at the name again before moving closer, forcing your ankles to unlock so he could stand between your legs. “I wanted to see if you’d give me the honors of helping in a little mischief. But after seeing your legs I’m not sure if I wanna go cause mischief or stay and admire them in their spread-out glory.”

“The only legs getting spread are yours, cotton tail.” Reaching out you placed a hand on his hip, your fingers easily wrapping around him, your thumb meeting your middle finger on his other hip. “Who do you want to bully now? It better not be Pomni again, that poor girl doesn’t need another scare so soon.”

He swallowed hard, eyes glued to his waist and the way your hand just completely wrapped around him. You’ve done it before but in a setting like this, it just hit differently. “It’s not bullying, she’ll be fiiine.”

Jax cleared his throat and used the arm closest to him as his own armrest, you easily supported his weight as he crossed one foot over the other. He was trying hard to play this whole situation off, he was supposed to be in charge and you’ve gone and taken the upper hand without even trying. “So uh, h-how tall are you now? Ya know, without the box.”

That was a good question.

You gestured for Jax to step back and he did so hesitantly before you pulled yourself up, grumbling at the way your knees hurt from getting off the already low-ass bed. Truly a downside to being taller than the furniture here, something you didn’t experience until you started taking breaks outside the box.

Jax let out a string of unintelligible words as you stood to your full height. He knew you were big before but you were a lot taller than he thought you’d be, god his neck already hurt. Is this how Pomni felt standing next to him? God, you could just, break him…

“Penny for your thoughts?”

You tried not to look so smug, but god damn if it wasn’t satisfying to see such a thirsty yet bewildered expression on the usually smug rabbit’s face. Truthfully you weren’t too sure just how tiny Jax would be at your full height, he’d already seemed small before but now you could just toss him like a Javelin spear.

“I take that back, sit your ass down.”

“Make me.” You crossed your arms with a grin and simply watched him curiously.

“Don’t think I won’t climb your raggedy ass and—”

“And what cotton tail?” He flinched when you bent down to get in his face. “Can’t knock me down if you climb me, not that you could on the ground either.”

Jax chuckled nervously but didn’t back down. “Oh yeah? Wanna try?”

Looks like causing mischief would be put on hold for an hour or two.

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Twice Seals The Fate***

Title: Twice Seals The Fate ***

Pablo Schreiber x GF Reader

Warning: NSFW, SMUUT, Cursing, Male & Female Receiving, Mild Crude Language, Fluff, 18+ Mature Content, Unprotected Lovin, Implied Preggo Talk

Words: 4.2k

Summary:  While Pablo is on location filming the latest season of HALO, you pay him a visit after a nice chunk of time frees up on your calendar. One morning you wake to see him mid workout and laying eyes on this sight, there is only one possible outcome.

Note: I couldn’t resist this one. You’re welcome!

Thank you all for reading. I appreciate it. I hope you enjoy this.

If you enjoyed it, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!!

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

~~~~~~~~

 Chirp-Chirp, Chirp-Chirp.

 The sound was so soft you almost missed it. However, the bevy of animal sounds continued.

 Chirp-Chirp, Chirp-Chirp.

Squawk- Squawk, Squawk - Squawk.

Neeeeeeigh.

Moooooo.

 “Mmm.”

 You groaned feeling as if you’d put yourself through a rigorous two-hour workout. You rolled to your right and your arm flopped onto a pillow—an empty pillow. It took a few moments but when your brain registered that and the sounds you were hearing your head flew up. The brightness around you felt unnatural as if it was artificial. Squinting, you looked around and immediately didn’t recognize your surroundings.

 “What the--.”

 It took nearly a minute for you to remember the last 24 hours. Your head was heavy and everything hazy. You got bits and pieces of your travels. You on the plane after agreeing to make a long-awaited visit to none other than the love of your life. It was a trip you’d both been unable to make but also reluctant to make.

 Your schedule was insane as was Pablo’s thanks to him being on location filming the second season of Halo. To make things worse you hated flying after the two scares you’d had. Flying was the bane of your existence, and you could never do it unless you drank your way through it. Not even Valium fully worked on you, so you incorporated some self-medication—liquor.

 You groaned again as it all came back. 4 valiums, 4 bottles of wine and an eight-hour flight took you all the way out. When you’d gotten off the plane you were more than tipsy. You cringed thinking you may have embarrassed yourself or Pablo when he and his assistant picked you up.

 “Oh god, Y/N,” you croaked as you flipped onto your back.

 You knew you’d gotten into the wrong career for the level of shambles you found yourself in whenever you had to fly. Nothing worked. Pablo knew this and had always been so supportive of you with working around it and it only made you love him even more. You replayed a memory from last night of Pablo putting you in the bathtub and giving you a bath like an actual toddler then tucking you in forehead kiss and all.

 “Oh god.”

 Guilt filled you. He’d probably had a long day on set and needed to be taken care of and loved on too, but you were so out of it he’d ended up taking care of you. Knowing him he was probably feeling guilty making you come all the way out. At the thought of him, you looked beside you and found his side empty. You sat up with the intention to go looking for him but the view out the sliding doors held you captivated.

 “Wow.”

 Thankfully your legs were in full working order now. You walked over to the doors and marveled at the view before you. As far as the eye could see it was white with peeks of greenery. The expansive field was so wide and free of clutter, litter, and people that you could not help but step outside onto the veranda. The crisp, fresh air hit you and it was clear you weren’t in LA anymore.

 Despite the strong chill in the air thanks to the freshly fallen snow, you couldn’t find one fault. This may actually be heaven, you thought to yourself. Off to the left you saw the responsible parties for the farmland orchestra. There were actual cows grazing in the pasture like they had not one care in the world and free roaming horses.

 “Must be nice.”

 A flock of birds passing overhead caught your eye and you watched them flit merrily in the air as their song echoed around. This view and atmosphere made up for the eight-hour nightmare. You took a few more moments to enjoy the view but when the cold got too much to bear in your state of undress, you then went back inside to brush your teeth before finding Pablo.

 When you made your way through the quiet house you wondered if he’d left to set already. Peeking into rooms you found them Pablo free. You thought to go back to the bedroom for your phone to call him but decided to look everywhere first. Turning the corner, you expected to be the only one there, but you stopped in your tracks as the most delicious sight laid before you that cleared any residual haze in your brain.

 Pablo was in the center of the large and minimalistic living room with his back braced on a rolling sit up wheel with his arms behind his head. His feet were firmly planted on the hardwood floors with a pair of brown sweats sitting dangerously low. From the angle you stood you could count each and every ab muscle that popped from his perfect form.

 Slowly, you raked your eyes over every inch of skin that was on display. Have mercy you thought. The pictures he’d been sending you over the last three months had not done an ounce of justice to what you were looking at now. From the pictures he looked good yes, and you’d wanted to run your hand along every inch of him, but in front of you now, you wanted so much more.

 You watched him use the contraption underneath him, no doubt a new torture device from Eddie. He rocked forward and brought himself into a crunch and if it was possible those abs popped even more. He held the position and the longer he did the more parched you became. Thanks to those low sitting sweats you could see those brain numbing indentations at his sides that disappeared inside those now annoying sweats. Your eyes lowered and caught sight of a half-asleep monster skimming the surface.

 Without thought you licked your lips. Pablo rolled backward releasing the position he’d been holding and arched himself back. Your eyes roamed up his sweat glistened body to see he wore headphones. He probably had no idea you were up much less ogling him like this. You slowly and carefully walked into the room taking care to not make a sound. Once you came around him and stood just between his legs you took the time to admire him some more.

 His usual fit and build were always impressive to you because he always kept himself in good shape no matter what. However, his Halo level of fit was insane, and you thanked the producers every day that they’d chosen him for the role and that he was so dedicated to portraying an authentic master chief. Needless to say, your sex life since had been at a whole new level of explosive. It was a level you didn’t think was possible since you were already at wildfire levels.

 Before he could move you dropped down onto your knees and hooked your fingers into the waistband of his sweats and pulled them down. As soon as they moved, Pablo flinched swinging his head up to land on you. Your attention was taken by the half soft meal you’d revealed.

 “Jesus! Y/N, you scared the shit out of me!”

 “Did I?”

 You looked at him without moving your head, so it was only your eyes that bored into him. You always knew this made him weak. Sure enough, Pablo groaned.

 “God, don’t look at me like that.”

 Smirking, you wrapped your hand around his length that was much firmer than seconds ago.

 “Mmm. Looks like you like being scared and the way I’m looking at you.”

 Pablo scoffed and made a move to get off the wheel, but you gently squeezed him.

 Groaning, he met your eyes again. “What’re you doing? You know that’s not a toy, right?”

 “No? I thought it was my toy?”

 His clear hazel eyes darkened as the tip of his tongue dipped out to wet his bottom lip.

 “No worries, I’m not looking for a toy right now…just a snack.”

 You tipped your tongue and licked from the base of his cock to the smooth tip. A deep moan that sounded like a big cat’s purr rumbled in Pablo’s chest and filled the room. You loved hearing him moan.

 “I’m—I’m sweaty. Let me--.”

 His words were cut off by another moan when you sucked his head into your mouth and moaned on it hoping that was answer enough for him.

 “Uuugh!”

 Pablo’s head dropped back to hang down as you swirled your tongue around him quite enjoying the slight saltiness to his skin. A wave of hunger hit you so hard that you couldn’t control yourself. Dipping your head lower, you took him into your mouth until he touched the back of your throat.

 Pablo hissed as his head flung back up to watch you. Using his hands, he bracketed your head holding you gently. His mouth fell open as if he’d planned to say something, but no sound came. Rotating your head from left to right you rolled your tongue along the underside of his shaft.

 “Fuuuuck!”

 “Mmmm.”

 Pablo’s grip tightened. It wasn’t enough to hurt you but just enough to let you know he was quickly losing control.

 “God baby,” he breathed keeping a close eye on your mouth.

 You slowly bobbed on him bringing your mouth all the way down so your top lip brushed against the spray of dark neatly trimmed hair there then up just until his swollen tip slipped out of your mouth. When it did, he grunted and thrusted upward showing his eagerness to be back inside your mouth.

 “Shit Y/N,” he muttered through trembling lips.

 That wasn’t the only thing that was trembling. From the way his body shook, you could tell he was quickly getting to the point where his muscles would give way. Increasing the power of your suck, you clamped onto his need and moaned. Suddenly Pablo jerked up sending his arousal down your throat tempting your gag. Suppressing it, you pulled back lifting your mouth off of him leaving a trail of thick saliva.

 “For fuck’s sake,” Pablo rasped before he yanked you to him. Your body crashed to his and it was at the last moment that you worried the wheel underneath him would break that Pablo smoothly held you to him, rolled to the right while cocooning you so you didn’t feel the impact of the wooden floors.

 “I’ve missed you so much, dollface.”

 You smiled and smoothed the back of your hand against his bristled cheek.

 “I missed you too. I’m sorry about--.”

 That was all you got out before Pablo’s lips pressed to yours for your first kiss in months. You both moaned against each other as your lips sweetly danced together reacquainting themselves with the feel of the other. When you felt Pablo readjust himself so he was perfectly nestled between your legs, you moaned at the heaviness of his length pressed against your core. His lips sped and the kiss turned desperate, urgent, and so much more sinful. He kissed you like a hungry man. A man who’d had to go months without sustenance and couldn’t get enough now with his first taste.

 Soon you both were wildly making out on the floor pawing at each other wherever you could. The t-shirt that you’d found yourself in when you awoke was now pushed to your hips exposing your lower half where you only wore one of Pablo’s boxers. His large hand snaked underneath the shirt to cup your bare breast. You arched thrusting it further out to him like a sacrificial offering. Pablo groaned then buried his head into your neck where he nipped, licked and sucked your skin.

 “Oh Pablo.”

 His roughened thumb swiped across your nipple once, then twice before he flicked the now hardened peak.

 “Yes,” you breathed.

 As one hand cupped your breast, the other dipped inside those boxers and found where you wanted him the most. A high-pitched gasp left your lips when Pablo’s fingers dipped between your folds.

 “Mmmmm,” Pablo rumbled finding you already wet for him.

 Pablo then pressed his forehead to yours as his fingers explored the slickness between your thighs.

 “Fuck dollface, you’re already wet for me?”

 You nodded unable to find your voice. He scissored your clit between his fingers and slid them up and down sending such powerful sparks of pleasure through you, you nearly came right then.

 “Aaah!”

 Pablo must have sensed it because his body stiffened, then he slid one finger home into your core. You both groaned in unison. It wasn’t nearly enough but it was still so fucking good and so much more than you’d had all these months. When you opened your eyes, you found Pablo’s hazel ones locked on you. His mouth was slightly ajar as he continued dipping into your cavernous heat one centimeter at a time. When he’d finally sent that one digit as far as it could go, he curled it up making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

 “You’re so tight. It’s like I’ve never claimed this sweet little pussy as mine.”

 You whimpered when he hooked his finger deeper.

 “Fuck, I’m going to have to teach her again how to take me, huh?”

 You nodded.

 “I can’t hear you dollface.”

 Pablo added another finger rotating his wrist, so his fingers spiraled inside of you.

 “Ye—ye—yes, yes, yes!”

 As if on their own, his fingers pulled out of you only to slam back in again and again before Pablo pulled them out completely. You watched as he licked them clean like a man with his favorite flavored cone.

 “You taste as good as I remember. I want more.”

 Before you knew it, Pablo had flipped you so you were straddling him with his thick, hard cock pressing against your sex. The feel of him nestled between your legs but not inside of you was so tempting that you couldn’t resist ricking against him using your slickness to ease your glide.

 “Aah,” Pablo growled gripping your hips but not stopping you.

 You began slow but that didn’t last. After the second or third rock you were quickly rubbing yourself against his need half using him for your own pleasure and half teasing him. The only sounds in the living room were your combined panting and moaning. Pablo’s grip on your hips tightened and soon he was pulling you toward his face.

 When his mouth latched onto your clit you instinctively bucked against him swiping your pussy across his mouth and nose. Pablo moaned then locked his arms around your waist holding you right where he wanted. His tongue set the pace telling you that he planned on devouring you until you were breathless and trying to run away and even then, he wouldn’t let you.

 Before even three minutes had passed you were so close, and he knew it from the way your moans turned to mewls and mewls turned to pants then finally whines.

 “Ah, ah, ah, Pa—oh my god!”

 You tried to pull away, but his arms held you tighter and deciding to just lose yourself to the pleasure you rocked on him, riding his face. Your wail of pleasure echoed throughout the house as your orgasm crept up on you taking you by surprise. Pablo moaned as he lapped at your flesh taking every drop you gave him. Even then he didn’t releasee you, he kept on coaxing another.

 Trying to pry yourself from him was futile so you gave yourself to the wild, consuming feeling bubbling within you. A feeling that threatened complete destruction and rebirth, a feeling that wanted as much as it would give, a feeling that was almost terrifying in the way that it made you feel so utterly out of control, but you didn’t run from it. You found Pablo’s eyes on you, and you lost your shit. You came so hard you nearly fell back on him. If it weren’t for his strong arms holding you, you were sure you would have.

 The next thing you knew you were cocooned in Pablo’s arms with your head resting in the crook of his beauty mark speckled neck while straddling him. Your eyes met and your hearth thundered even more.

 “Hi,” Pablo whispered before kissing the tip of your nose.

 “Hi.”

 “I’m sorry, I took too much too soon,” Pablo said.

 Your brow crinkled. “Too much?”

 “After flying, now with jet lag, I should have--.”

 You cut him off with a kiss. When you felt his hardness lurch underneath you, you realized then you’d blacked out and he hadn’t come yet. This man was too good to you. Kissing him with renewed need, you shifted just a little so his cock was between your bodies throbbing against your belly. Then you shifted onto your knees and hovered just above his length. Every time your wet entrance grazed the tip of his need he flinched and stiffened.  He was barely hanging on.

 “You haven’t taken enough.”

 You then slid down taking him inside of you inch by slow inch. Pablo threw his head back and clenched his jaw. His Adam’s apple bobbed uncontrollably tempting you to nip him which you did. Biting down on his skin you marked him not caring who saw it. Pablo groaned, wrapped his arms around you and pulled you down onto him filling and stretching you to capacity.

 “Fuck!”

 Pablo shook as he held you still. Every muscle in his back and chest jerked, then clenched and unclenched. He was right, he would have to teach you how to take him again. You were so impossibly full of him you were tethering on that fine line of pleasure and pain, and it drove you mad.

 “So tight, so fucking tight,” Pablo muttered allowing his vulnerability to shine through his voice.

 You slowly raised off of him allowing a few inches to slip from you before lowering yourself again. When you did, Pablo whimpered. Doing it again and again his reaction to you only intensified. By the time you’d picked up your speed both of your pleasure had synced. It felt as if you could feel his pleasure and he could feel yours. You were on the same seesaw ebbing back and forth, up and down on the way to the most powerful shared orgasm.

 “You’re so beautiful,” Pablo whispered into your ear before he bit your lobe.

 “Mmm. You feel incredible baby,” you countered.

 “Did you miss my cock dollface?”

 You nodded before you bit onto his bottom lip then sucked it into your mouth. Pablo squeezed your hips then began moving you on him. First, he rocked you back and forth then lifted you up and down slamming you down every time. By the time you were seeing stars behind your eyes, you pushed him back, so he laid down onto the floor, then lifted his t-shirt off of your body. Pablo’s eyes immediately dropped to your breasts and seconds later his hands cupped them.

 Using him as an anchor you planted your hands on this ripped torso then bounced on him. With every crash down onto him the goosebumps on your flesh beaded tighter and tighter, your telltale sign you were close.

 “I’m so close baby.”

 “Come for me dollface. Come all over this cock.”

 The man was an expert dirty talker. You didn’t stand a chance. As if on command, you did just that. As the sensation wrapped you up and took over you sat on top of him allowing yourself to fully let go after so many months apart. Pablo gripped your hips then jackhammered up into you inching your closer and closer to another release.

 “Ah, ah aahhaa, Pablo!”

 he grunted once, twice then you felt him filling you like a twinkie.

 “Ah, uh, uh, ah, uuuugh!”

 He held you so tightly against him ensuring that not even a drop escaped you and with every spurt he released inside of you, your body trembled. After several long moments, you both were a panting mess as you clung to one another.

 “Mmm, I love you, Y/N.”

 Your eyes met. “Yeah?”

 He looked so open, so vulnerable, so free for the taking.

 “I do. I love you so fucking much. Shit after today you just may be stuck with me for the rest of your life.”

 He kissed your collar then brought sloppy open-mouthed kisses to your breasts before wrapping his mouth around your nipple.

 “Mmm. What’s that supposed to mean?”

 He took his time licking and sucking your nipple reawakening that hungry, desperate need within you. Pulling his mouth from your flesh, he bit his bottom lip then brought one hand to your stomach.

 “I think I may have just planted Pablo Jr and Pabuela right here.”

 Your eyes bugged as you took in his words. Both of you snorted then laughed heartily.

 “Pablo!”

 You playfully slapped his chest.

 “Is that what your goal was? Let’s trap her so she’ll stay?”

 You playfully pinched and poked him until he rolled onto you pinning your arms above your head.

 “Trap? That’s such an ugly word. I prefer locked down, wifed up.”

 Both of you stopped moving as your eyes lingered. This was not the first time ether of you had heard the W word in reference to your relationship. It was however the first time Pablo had used the W word in reference to your relationship. This was also the first time he’d joked about having kids with you. He hovered over you, searching your eyes. You didn’t know what to say so you remained silent as your heart raced uncontrollably.

 “What do you think?”

 “Pabuela is a hideous name. There is no way my—our daughter will be named that.”

 You knew what you’d said, and you’d said it on purpose. His eyes remained on yours, but they sparked with intensity.

 “But Pablo Jr?”

 “PJ, sounds good,” you whispered.

 It was as if you were having two conversations in one. This lighthearted hypothetical one with the real and much deeper one hidden between the words, a serious one, one that was heavy with promise and intent. Pablo bit his bottom lip as he readjusted himself between your legs.

 “It does. Maybe Y/N Jr for—our daughter?”

 Hearing how heartbreakingly soft his voice got when he said “our” made your heart skipped a beat. It was a horrible idea, no way would you want to make your daughter a Jr, but hearing those words from him took your breath away. Shit you were so gone--hook, line and sinker for this man.

 You widened your legs then wrapped them around his waist. “There’s room for improvement but—I think we should be sure they are planted properly. Once may be all it takes but twice—seals the fate.”

 Pablo slowly smiled until he was full on just teeth and gums. With one thrust of his hips, he connected you again, stealing your breath all over again. The whole time he thrust into you his eyes never left yours. You were having a full-on conversation with your eyes and the beating of your hearts. The intensity of the exchange made you overly sensitive. You could feel everything ten times more. Every rub of his skin against yours felt like sparks from fireworks landed on your flesh. Every collision of his hip bone into yours was the rake of nails along your skin. Every tap of his thighs against the backs of yours sent a frisson of fire through you. It all felt so incredible, so completely perfect.

 When you felt his movements lag becoming even less controlled, you knew the intensity of the moment, of your lovemaking was also making him more sensitive as well. He was close and neither of you wanted to stop it or slow down. Pablo quickly thrusted into you racing for his release and you held on to him never taking your eyes off of his. Suddenly he stopped moving leaving your body in heightened suspension. Your first thought was he’d changed his mind and was pulling away from you both physically and emotionally. The thought made your heart clench and eyes prick with tears.

 “I love you, Y/N. Forever and always.”

 His brow crinkled and just like that he’d made the conscious decision and deliberate choice to seal your fate and lives together. A tear rolled out the corner of your eye as you joined him in the sweetest orgasm you’d ever had together. When you felt Pablo’s thick digit swipe at the tear you saw the question, worry and fear in his eyes. Smiling, you cupped his bearded jaw and erased any doubt in him with three words.

 “Forever and always.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[ofliterarynature]

JUNE 2024 WRAP UP

[loved liked ok nope dnf bookclub*]

The Language of Thorns • Transitions: A Mother's Journey* • Sipsworth • The Watchmaker of Filigree Street • Sunbringer • Someone You Can Build a Nest In • The Curse of Chalion • The Adventures of Amina Al-Sirafi • Heartstopper Vol 5 • Knit One, Kill Two • A Letter to the Luminous Deep

Slim numbers this month! But we had a few days off of work, and a couple of these were long -

The Language of Thorns (4 stars) - I don't really enjoy Bardugo's work anymore, but this survived my very first TBR poll by my interference because I love fairy tales and retellings! I think Bardugo had some cool stories, made some cool twists, the illustrations were nice to look at - I think she definitly has the structure of fairy tales down, but I don't think she quite has the language. I don't love her writing style, but it really doesn’t fit here all of the time. I'm still trying to decide if I want to keep it, but I think I'm leaning towards not. I don’t own it, but I also plan to read the Hinterland collection by Melissa Albert.

Transitions (3 stars) a graphic novel based on the real-life experiences of a mother coming to terms with her child’s transition. I could maybe see this being a helpful book for someone whose parent is also struggling, but it was a bit too short and occasionally abstract for me to really understand the mother’s behavior - we definitely struggled to find anything to talk about at the bookclub meeting.

The Watchmaker of Filigree Street (3.5 stars) - I wanted to like this more. I definitely liked parts of it, most of it even! I just really hated the entire Grace subplot and it dragged the rest of the book down for me. Also, major deja vu at the ending? I don't know why, I can't remember reading this before. Will probably read the sequel and more of the author’s work, but I'd love to read KJ Charles’ version of this.

Sipsworth (4 stars) - it was fine? But I was also bored enough on occasion that this really should only be 3 stars, and I only finished it because it was short. Overly sentimental.

Sunbringer (5 stars) - fun! Really wish I could have picked this up right after book 1, it gets right into things and I’d forgotten a bit more than I liked. I didn’t realize that this series was set up to be more than just a duology, so news on book 3 soon I hope!!!

Someone You Can Build a Nest In (4.5 stars) - also very fun, would recommend to fans of fairy tales if you don’t mind some gore and body horror.

The Curse of Chalion (4 stars) - did I love this to the bottom of my heart? No. Did it hold my attention and keep me entirely engaged! Yes! So overall I’d call it a great read, and I really need to get the next book(s) on my reading schedule.

The Adventures of Amina al-Sirafi (5 stars) - WHAT a delight!!! Sailing ships, a reluctant hero, non-romantic relationships at the forefront, what’s not to love? I wish some of Amina’s friends had gotten a bit more development, but I also dearly love her and her terrible cringe-fail husband. While we wait for the next book I should go back and actually finish the author’s earlier series.

Heartstopper Vol 5 (5 stars) - also fun, and if I had more time I would have absolutely launched myself into a full Oseman read/reread (I wish her later novels had been released in the US when they first came out, but I’m glad we have them now!)

DNF

Knit One, Kill Two (4%) - the problem with cozy mysteries, especially with the slightly older ones, is that they tend to give strong vibes of having been written by women of a certain social class with certain views, and the writing just does not age well. Within 4% we got a conversation about dieting and calories and a tasteless comment about a homeless individual, and I was out.

A Letter to the Luminous Deep (31%) - this one’s been getting a lot of buzz, which, honestly, means it could have gone either way for me. It did not go, alas. The story was dragging, the back and fourth between timelines was frustrating, and the letters were not really convincing - if the siblings had set out to solve their siblings disappearance, maybe it would have had more pull, but it really felt like a lot of spilling your guts to a stranger and not much else. Too bad, because I do enjoy an unusual story structure if it works.

[stormblessed95]

Hi Storm! It might seem a shady question, but it's just curiosity: have you ever disapproved of something the boys did or said, or felt that something wasn't exactly your cup of tea?

I'm thinking about the fact that even between the closest and most affectionate friends disagreements can happen, and that it can happen also with idols, actors etc; I'm thinking about the recent declarations of Jackson Wang, and on a more personal note of a disagreement I had with one of my best friends. It never happens, and then it happens, and I was wondering if you ever felt like this towards BTS, since I think you have a cool and rational perspective on things and you aren't one of those fans that follow blindly their myths.

Personally, I don't have any issues with BTS, and even if I think about some wrong stuff like the misogynistic lyrics Namjoon wrote when he was very young, I also think about his mature and responsible reaction, and how he addressed clearly the issue for what it was without trying to sweep it under the rug. He held himself accountable, a thing that can be hard, so it was worthy of respect in my opinion.

About what is or isn't my cup of tea, I think I feel less of a connection with Taehyung, but this doesn't mean I don't find him quite funny, or adorable or smart, at times. It just means I feel less drawn to him and more towards other members. I think it means he's not my bias? I still don't really use the terminology 😅

I made these two examples in hope you see this question as sincere and not as a provocative one: I adore BTS, I just think they're humans and deserving to be treated as such.

Hi, BTS are humans and they are not infallible. Of course that's okay to talk about, as long as the conversation is respectful, which you have been and I appreciate. Yes, there have definitely been things they've done that I haven't liked. Most honestly that I think they've grown and learned from though honestly too. Because they are geniunely good people.

In their early years, they did have some issues with cultural appropriation with their use of black culture in, probably an effort to be more hip hop, but just ended up being inappropriate. As well as some issues with cultural appropriation for Native American Cultures as well. Some hairstyles they (all) did, using AAVE a few times in an earlier interview in not a great way, some not great comments about not wanting to be "too tan." And honestly, mostly after 2015, they grew up a lot and things got better and they seemed to learn. There haven't really been any similar type issues that I know of and they are in general, much more sensitive and culturally aware. Especially considering the world wide stage they now stand on. And while I fully appreciate their growth and respect it, doesn't make me not cringe and some old photos of theirs at times too. (Although there also isn't as many instances as antis like to pretend there are) But it's not an issue for them currently. And Namjoon even apologized for his past actions in cultural appropriation during an interview before too and made a log video with an apology later as well too. A very sincere one. Similar to his apology for any participation he had in misogyny with his lyrics. Fully owning up to it and growing.

I also, and this is the only one that is still something that is hard for me sometimes, hate how entrenched they are in diet culture. And I know a lot of that has to do with how they were raised and probably lowkey traumatized in the kpop industry where that is a HUGE deal. But while they are professionals, and they do have staff and med staff and trainers with them to help make these sometimes unhealthy choices to be healthier. They do have a lot of people who look up to them and I sometimes wish they would be able to help preach a healthier relationship/mindset with food and with body positivity towards themselves. I do think they have gotten BETTER about this, but it's still prevalent. I don't necessarily fault them for it at all either. Because it's an industry thing and self love is a continuous and constant journey. I actually have an ask about this topic too that I've been sitting on and trying to figure out how to best answer that and I'll get into it more then, or maybe I won't and I'll keep my answer more general. It depends on how much I think I actually have to say about it all. Lol I'm not REALLY wanting to open these topics up for debate or discussion really as I don't think there is anything that can be added here and be a productive conversation.

The misogyny issues brought up were never ones I personally found offensive, but that's just me and I know other people can feel differently about that as well. And that's okay.

Overall though, they are geniunely good people, tend to make good decisions, and geniunely care about people, the world, their fans, each other, etc. I trust them, I also trust them to make good decisions for themselves and those around them and as examples to the world. I trust them to learn and grow from any mistakes. And I trust them to do what's right for them and trust in them as good hearted people, because they really are. Hopefully that all makes sense and this is taken and received well, as I mean it to be. Love them all so dearly. And love yall. Thanks for the ask 💜

[writebackatya]

🍲🍢🥮

Sorry for the delay, Shy! Let’s do this

🍲 When did you start writing and why?

Pretty sure they made us write in school and if I didn’t I would fail.

But honestly, I feel like before I got where I am today I was off-and-on when it came to writing. I think the first fanfic I ever wrote was some Sonic crossover fic that I wrote on Deviantart when I was going through a bit of a Sonic phase. (Not so much a Sonic fan these days, but that series will always have a weird spot on my heart). It has a few chapters and then I just stopped and gave up on it

A couple or so years later when I was going through my Brony phase (yeah, looking back there were definitely a lot of bad people in that fandom but I met a friend in that fandom that I still talk to to this day so I don’t regret that. The show was also pretty good and has some cool people in the fandom these days) I remember writing a couple of fanfics during I think when the show was on its third season. Mainly one shots. I think the last thing I wrote was going to be a multi-chapter I wanted to do, I wrote one chapter and that was it for that writing phase

Flash forward to 2021. I finally watched DuckTales and wanted more stories featuring these characters. Especially Della Duck. I start looking into fanfiction. I find there are plenty of writers in the fandom that write her really well. That inspired me to want to write my own DuckTales fanfiction because I realized I too had a lot of ideas of what happens next for this family. Still not motivated to write because I just don’t know where to begin

Then one day. Me and my bro were high. We do what usually do ever since we both watched DuckTales; we started making up different DuckTales jokes/scenarios. One of which was what if Della Duck was caught by the boys while smoking weed. I remember I was like “The boys would all be cool about because Dewey and Louie would be all ‘Cool! That means we can smoke now!’ and Huey would be like ‘Oh so you found out that marijuana is legal now’ and then Della would be like ‘Weed’s legal now? That’s cool.’”

But then immediately my mind was like “No she wouldn’t! She’d take the situation about more serious because this is her boys we’re talking about here!” And then from that moment I guess I just knew I had to write that story

Moral of the story. Any time is a good time to start writing. Even if you have a past that kinda makes you cringe when you think about those works. It’s all part of the growth you’ll make as you write on

🍢 Have you ever gotten hate on a fic?

Oh yeah. I got that one Della Duck hater who made a comment on a couple of my fics. Clearly commented to try to grind my gears. It didn’t work, I found it funny. They did leave one comment on Indi-Quack! that I deleted because it was a joke made in poor taste that had nothing to do with the fic or any of the characters in it

And one time I got a comment accusing me of using one of those AI writing programs. I swear I’ve never used any of those AI writing programs for any of my fanfics. And strangely enough the comment itself felt like it wasn’t written by an actual human

🥮 Do you have any writing milestones you’re working toward?

I guess finish one of my multi-chapter/story stories: Indi-Quack!, The Three Caballeros (and Della)!, or The Iron Duck of Steel: The Gizmoduck Movie, Part I! someday.

None are close to being finished but I do have a general idea on how I will end them

[darklydeliciousdesires]

From Blood, Love and Courage - Chapter Eleven.

So, besties, the chapter I’ve been alluding to in my warnings is here. If rape is a sensitive topic for you, this is your trigger warning. I’m sorry it’s going to be sad for a while now, you’ll probably hate me a bit for breaking them, too, but it all serves a purpose. Thank you very much for your continued efforts with the chapter unlocking, I’ve decided because of the sensitive nature of this chapter, I’m abandoning the unlock feature just for the next chapter, as I doubt people will be as into this as the rest of the story. Hell, it was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to write, in juggling the sensitivity of the topic, while remaining realistic to the narrative. 

Previous chapters - One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight  Nine  Ten

Words - 6,372

Tag list - In the comments, please message to be added/removed

Warnings - As above. 18+ content throughout, minors DNI!

“Who’s gonna die first, yours, yours, or mine?”

“I think we’re at evens, so far.”

“Nah, it’ll be mine. Angel is nothing if not predictable in the amount he throws caution to the wind. He thinks just because Charlie doesn’t bite him any longer, he’s the damned animal whisperer.”

Sitting in a row upon the clubhouse steps, Lily, Maggie and Jodie all watched as their respective men made attempts to thwart the intelligence of the opossum who had decided to take up residence in a car in line to be crushed, the small yet feisty beast letting them know in no uncertain – and very shrilly screeched – terms that it was not about to be moved from the back of the silver Lincoln, not by them, the persuasion of food, or the large blanket they attempted to throw over it.  

“Why don’t you just leave the food by the side of the door, then walk away? Let it come out in its own time, leave a trail of snacks leading away?” Maggie called in suggestion, Bishop turning to her.  

“It isn’t like Cady; it doesn’t seem to be food motivated. It just wants to fight.”

“Oh, so somewhat like our youngest, then?” Maggie’s joke spurred laughter all around.

“Yeah, especially since it’s hissing,” Bishop confirmed, Angel moving in with the blanket again, only to back off when it screeched, looking perturbed.  

“Ohhhhh, fuck! It’s gonna bite me, nope, no! I can’t do it, man! They got rabies or something, don’t they? It sounds like we need to fetch a damned priest!” he cringed, moving in again only to retreat, laughing nervously as the opossum further showed its fury.  

“And that, my friends, is what I like to refer to as the Hispanic panic,” Lily spoke, Jodie and Maggie both snorting with laughter before falling into hysterics.  

“I’m remembering that, next time there’s a lizard!” Jodie cried, flapping her hands as she laughed loudly.  

“Why, doesn’t EZ like them?” Maggie inquired, watching her eyes widen.

“Oh my god, no. I was woken up the other morning by him flying out of the bed because a western fence lizard had gotten in. I had to trap it under a bowl and take it outside before he’d come out of the bathroom. I swear, he nearly ran a hole through the side of the trailer!” They continued to watch the three men dancing around it, Angel deciding he’d definitely had enough.

“Nah, I’m out!” he announced, stepping back and lighting a cigarette, the women turning to see Taza walk out of the clubhouse.  

“What the hell are they doing?” he asked, frowning at the scene.  

“Trying to get an opossum out of that car,” Lily confirmed. He watched the dancing around of his president and the former prospect for a short while longer, sighing before descending the steps and marching over.  

“Move.” EZ stepped back, Taza reaching in, grasping the disgruntled animal by the scruff and tail at once, pulling it from the vehicle. “Gate.” He nodded in the direction, Angel jogging over to open it up, carrying it over and placing it down upon the other side before walking back.  

“What do you have that we don’t, that you could just pick it up like that?” Bishop asked, Taza shaking his head.  

“A set of balls, apparently.” The simplicity of his statement had the women in fits, Angel, EZ and Bishop all viewing their ladies with a certain amount of mild odium. “Dancing around it like three fucking ballerinas.” Taza continued, Lily reaching to squeeze his forearm with affection as he ascended the steps again. He returned after a few moments, handing a beer to both Jodie and Maggie, a bottle of vodka coming into her line of vision as he sat down behind her, his long legs flanking her as he topped up her drink.  

“There, feeling a little more numbed?”

“I am nicely sedated from my pain, thank you,” she confirmed, leaning back against his chest. She’d had a local bout the night before, one which had ended in her getting knocked out by a decimating elbow to her head, Lily utterly incensed at her loss, especially since it was the first time a lot of the guys in the club had been to see her fight.  

“Losing is a learning curve, Lilypad. It’s how you get back up again and continue that counts. To be fair, you got some really mean strikes in, prior to taking that elbow at about a hundred miles an hour,” he advised sagely.

“He’s right, Lils,” Maggie began, squeezing her knee. “And for your last two fights prior to that, you were a beast! Just keep that in mind, don’t dwell upon your losses so much. It isn’t conducive in your moving forward and bettering yourself as a fighter.”

Jodie leaned over, kissing her shoulder. “Yeah, what Taza and the good doctor said. I’d try and add something here of profound elegance, but I’m fucking hammered, so nope.” Her statement caused a lot of laughter, even more so when she called out to her boyfriend. “EZ?”

“Yes, carina?”

“Will you take me to your trailer and do me so hard, I can’t feel my legs any longer?” It was the way she asked so sweetly that cracked everyone up, Jodie and her cute little voice, coupled with a huge smile. EZ didn’t even respond with words. He merely walked over, ducked, threw her over his shoulder with ease and carried right on over to his trailer.  

“Don’t disturb me for the foreseeable,” he spoke, pointing between his brother and Bishop.

“For how long, what, five minutes, brother?” Bishop couldn’t help but tease, Angel joining in.  

“Or are you gonna spoil her and get to a whole ten minutes?” They were met by a middle finger, entertained by his response as they moved over to the clubhouse, everyone relocated to the couches to make room, Lily finding herself pulled onto Angel’s lap as he hugged her gently. Gently, because of her suspected cracked rib from the previous night, the bruising already purple and very angry looking.  

“Still damned proud of you, you know, even if you did take a beating,” he told her, hand stroking her thigh through her jeans before reaching for the beer Maggie passed to him, having gone in and grabbed a whole armful of bottles from the new prospect, EZ having been patched in for three weeks now.  

“I know, and that does help the huge fucking sting right in my pride!” she rolled her eyes, resting her head to his. They’d been together for seven months at that point, the troubles and wobbles in their relationship long in the past, everything going along beautifully. Well, some turbulence still shook them at times, but that was normal for any couple. It couldn’t always be smooth sailing.

It was definitely going well enough for them to begin discussing a significant change in their living arrangements, though.

“Nah, no apartment. If I’m moving out of a house, then it’s to another house,” he staunchly spoke a few hours later, sitting on one of the couches inside the clubhouse. “Besides, the whole reason you said you weren’t down for moving into my place was because we could find someplace else with more space, so we could do the outdoor gym thing too. Apartment living means no backyard.”  

She moved back to the listing page, pursing her lips lopsidedly, making noises of concentration. “Oooooh!”  

“Nope! Too far.”  

Her eyes narrowed. “What? It’ll take us a good forty-five minutes to get back to our respective areas for work!” She supposed he had a point. Onto the next. “Nope!”

“Angel, what the hell is wrong with that one! You haven’t even seen the pictures of the inside!”

“It’s too white! We live in a fucking desert; it’ll look grubby and need hosing down too often.” And on they continued. “Hell no!”

Lily was incandescent. “What now?”

“The number, it’s 1408.”

She turned to him, attempting to hold onto her laughter. “Seriously? It’s been three months since we watched that movie, and you’re still spooked out?”

“Can’t do it.”

“Angel! I swear, your superstitious nature is next level.” Shaking her head, she snorted with laughter, her boyfriend widening his eyes, looking anxious.

“He never left the room, Lily!”

“Baby, John Cusack is completely fine, has made plenty more movies since, and isn’t stuck in a continuously nefarious supernatural loop within a room at the Dolphin Hotel.”

He shuddered, making a motion with his hand that she should continue to scroll. She did, laughing to herself softly. His dramatic tendencies never ceased to amuse her. “Okay, what are you going to freak out over with this one?”

He raised his eyebrows, Lily relieved when he made his usual noise whenever he was interested in something, clicking the rental listing. “It looks a bit plain.”

“We can decorate,” she advised, swiping through the pictures.

“Woah, the size of the lounge!”

“And the kitchen!”

“Backyard is good, too.”

“I’m emailing them right now.”

“Do it!” he yelled, excited, Lily turning to kiss him. She loved it when they were on the same page about things, and that house was incredible. True, it was in a slightly less savoury neighbourhood than she would have liked, but to be fair, living with a Mayan had its advantages. They tended not to be fucked with by petty criminals.  

They saw a few other houses they liked the look of, also emailing those agents about booking a viewing too before heading back to her place, Angel being summoned as soon as he was through the door.

“Bro time! Bro time!” Charlie chorused, dancing around on his perch, his friend straight over to let him out.  

“He isn’t even my bird any longer. Look at that, how much he loves you!” Lily cried, pointing as Angel grabbed a handful of his trail mix sitting down on the couch while Charlie made himself comfortable, lying down on his chest. He rarely snuggled with anyone, not even Lily unless she was upset about something, but he’d taken to Angel so much, he loved to cuddle up to him while he was fed. Lily’s favourite photograph of them was Angel asleep in bed, and Charlie curled up on his neck, using his cheek as a pillow. It melted her heart entirely.  

“He’s my boy, aren’t you, Charlie?”  

“Angel’s boy,” the bird confirmed, clicking his beak happily and taking another piece of banana offered to him. Lily didn’t even need to take him to the vet for a claw trim any longer, since he’d happily sit and let Angel do it. “TV, TV. Upside down.”

“I think someone wants to watch Stranger Things.” Angel commented, except whenever they did, they had to keep pausing, waiting for Charlie’s squawking and shouting to pass whenever something dramatic happened, the bird a huge fan of the show. True to form, as soon as the opening credits rolled, he was on form, dancing around, wings flapping, comb up, hopping across Angel’s chest, over his stomach and onto his legs before whistling, head banging and shouting excited nonsense. He finally settled again, Lily moving to lie with her head on Angel’s chest, his arm around her, stroking her shoulder.  

There he was, content, happy, curled up with the love of his life, and her amazing, crazy parrot, watching one of his favourite TV shows. His life was far from perfect, the cartel issues causing him and the rest of the club a huge headache, but as he sat there, he realised this was probably the first time he’d ever been truly happy and settled. Lily and Charlie, they were his little family, who loved and accepted him completely. He wasn’t used to that, but now that he had it, he wouldn’t part with it for anything.  

He couldn’t wait until he’d be with her all the time, moving in together, smiling to himself as he kissed her head, realising that he virtually was already. There’d perhaps only be two days a week at that point in their relationship where they weren’t together, and usually he’d call in at her workplace on those days for a quick visit to see how she was. If they ever had to go longer, they missed each other hugely, just like later in that week, his club endeavours and her extra shifts she’d picked up to cover Carlos being off sick meaning they went four days without seeing one another.  

“I’m just leaving training now, but I’m walking over, so I’ll be just over an hour, maybe longer as one of those houses we saw is just off my normal walking route, and I could swing by and take a little peep,” Lily told him on the phone, Bishop calling to everyone that templo was about to begin.  

“Alright, mamacita. Listen, I gotta go, we’ve got templo, but I’ll see you soon, alright?  Love you.”  

She smiled, butterflies fluttering through her stomach. She’d missed him so much, and couldn’t wait to see him. “Love you too, baby.” Ending the call, she packed up her things, pushing her kit into her locker, figuring she’d pick it up the following day when she had her car with her, so she could throw it all in the back and take it home to wash then, hugging Ernesto goodbye and thanking him for her session before leaving, the evening still hot even though the sun was low in the sky.  

The walk was beautiful, the road leading out of Holtville between there and Santo Padre becoming less dense with buildings, giving way to the natural beauty of the hills, the sun sinking further into the horizon, deep orange and pink. By the time she reached Santo Padre, it was dark, the stars glittering through the acres of sky as she reached the built-up area, deciding against taking a detour to go and view the rental accommodation, her need to see Angel overriding it. They could swing by the following day.  

The streets became quieter the further she walked, the part of town the scrapyard was located within not particularly well occupied, especially at night. There was a very specific reason why the clubhouse was located in the area it was, after all. She made her final turn, now thirteen blocks away, her feet aching, glad to be edging ever closer to being able to sit down, have a drink and kick off her Vans. She stopped to send Angel a message, hearing a car pulling up behind her, not able to press send before it was suddenly snatched from her hand.  

Her fight sense kicked in, striking out behind her, throwing an elbow, before more than one set of hands was upon her. Someone slapped a hand over her mouth, another grabbing her arms, a third hauling her legs from the floor as they carried her quickly, ducking between two buildings and carrying on down the alley, darkness swathing them as she thrashed and struggled, trying to scream, biting the hand over her mouth before she was thrown to the ground and kicked several times in the stomach.  

“Fucking shut up, bitch!” a male voice spoke, taking something made of cloth and shoving it into her mouth. “Imma enjoy this, beating the shit out of you.” He clutched at her throat, his fist making hard contact with her cheek, punching her repeatedly, then her eye, then her forehead as she kicked out wildly and screamed through her gag, her legs then held by one of the others, the remaining man grabbing her arms. “Shut the fuck up! If you’re not quiet, I’ll fucking kill you, understand?”  

A sharp blade made her eyes widen in terror, fighting against the hold on her limbs, that knife suddenly pressing to her neck, her skin slicing. He held the blade against her, punching her repeatedly in the stomach, standing to kick blows against her ribs and her legs, terror flooding her. They were strong guys, all masked, and maybe one at a time, she might have had a chance to defend herself, but three at once and she was powerless to prevent the brutal beating she received.  

As the panic flooded her, her mind questioned why, when if they wanted to rob her, they could have done so by now. No. Whoever was doing this to her, their goal was to hurt her, not steal, this made even more abundantly clear when the man assailing her dropped down, unfastening and yanking her denim shorts down, using the knife he’d previously held to her throat to cut her underwear off. 

No. No, no. This couldn’t happen. He couldn’t do this to her, and as she fought and struggled, she knew she wouldn’t escape it, sheer terror gripping her as he unzipped his pants and forced himself upon her. “Fucking be quiet and take it.” His fist met her face again, the knife pressed against her neck once more, scared tears falling down her face, the pain indescribable, the fear horrendous. “Not so fucking tough now, are you?”  

She closed her eyes tightly, trying to think of something else, anything else than what was happening to her. If she could set her mind to another place, a different time, maybe it wouldn’t be so frightening, but the pain... Thinking it was finished, that her ordeal was over, she tried to fight for freedom again, reasoning they’d now want to get out of there quickly, only for the man who’d held her legs to have his turn, laughing as he did. “She likes it really, dirty fucking slut.”  

She felt light headed as the gag started to work its way to the back of her throat, her lungs burning, her face tingling. “Hey dude, I think she’s choking.”

“Don’t fucking take it out, she’ll scream!”

“She’ll fucking die if I don’t!” He pulled it from her, Lily crying out immediately.  

“Please stop, please! Don’t do this to me anymore! Take anything you want, just don’t hurt me!”  

“Shut your goddamned noise up!” the first man who’d violated her warned, slapping a hand over her mouth, clutching her neck hard, fingertips like vices tightening upon her throat, punching the side of her head a few times until she subdued, her vision clouding. She wasn’t sure if it was the fact she’d been punched into delirium, but the third man took his turn did so with what she sensed to be a little reluctance, not as into what the first two had inflicted upon her, but because she was drifting, it was but a guess, wishing, praying they’d knock her out to end her suffering.

The fear that she might not survive it then jolted through her. What if they killed her? She closed her eyes, seeing herself in Angel’s arms, his hands stroking her fondly, nothing but love and adoration, no pain, no fear, no having pieces of herself torn away, flesh ripped, breath strangled.

That mental picture was shattered by the forceful unload of the last man within her, more kicks and punches delivered before the three of them absconded, leaving her there, barely conscious, bleeding, and in more pain than she’d ever felt in her entire life, with no phone to call for help. Angel. She had to get to Angel...  

“Anything?” EZ asked, Angel coming back in after checking outside of the gates once more, seeing if he could spot Lily approaching from further up the street.  

“No, and she still ain’t picking up,” he muttered. That wasn’t like her at all. She always answered her phone when she was walking.  

“Maybe she did go by that house to take a look? Who knows, there might have been an agent there and she managed to talk them into showing her around inside?”  

“Doesn’t explain why she isn’t answering my calls, though,” Angel frowned, EZ seeing the flaw in his logic. “I’m going to look for her. She’s never this late.”  

EZ stood up, nodding. “I’ll come too, you take her usual route and I’ll head up where she’d come from if she’d been to see that house. Maybe she just didn’t want to be rude and answer if she did get a viewing. We’ll find her, though, bro. It’ll be fine.” Angel nodded, telling Taza to call him if she showed up before heading out towards his bike, looking up the name of the street the house was on and relaying it to EZ before they rode out, Coco hauling the gates open for them...  

Lily had no idea how long she’d been lying there when her ears picked up the sound of a motorcycle roaring past the alleyway, pushing herself up, the pain shooting through her entire body indescribable. She felt broken completely, assessing her damage, looking down to see her shorts cast aside, her legs covered in welts and scuffs, her top partially torn, blood running from between her legs, from her throat, from her nose. Her wrists felt like they were made of rubber as she tried to stand, only managing to get to her knees, the pain inside her sharp like a blade, sobbing, taking her weight on her elbows as she fought for breath.  

She wasn’t safe out there. She needed to get to safety.  

Shouting for help was useless, the area now dead with all the industrial businesses shut, the small strip mall opposite closed. No one came down there at night. Dragging herself across the ground, she reached for her shorts, screaming in pain as she reached to put them on. Closing her eyes, she pictured Angel in her mind, knowing that was her motivation, gritting her teeth against the burning pain as she pulled them on, managing to stand, locating her bag. If only she still had her phone.  

Limping along, she managed to get free of the alley, the sudden wide space scary, her eyes darting around, terrified they might still be close by, but reasoning they’d likely be long gone from the scene of their heinous crime. She staggered, falling against the bricks of the building, her head swimming, taking deep breaths.  

She wasn’t safe out there. She needed to get to safety.  

Thirteen blocks, she could do it, yet the road kept changing in angles, veering diagonally, her head pounding, knowing she had a concussion, her vision blurring more as she reached for a street lamp to steady herself. The bike that had passed the alley... could it have been Angel? If she waited there for long enough, he’d come back that way and see her... unless he went in a circle and drove up to the scrapyard again from the other end of the street...

She wasn’t safe out there. She needed to get to safety.  

She had no idea how she managed to put one foot in front of the other, but she did, limping, her left ankle not wanting to take her weight. Not broken, sprained, she wagered, or badly bruised, Lily hugging each building for safety so she didn’t fall. It took everything she had, the blocks passing, nine... eight... seven... six... five... almost there. Almost safe. But really, would she be? In herself, everything had been shattered, the damage extended to beyond what they’d done to her physically. Her mind didn’t feel like hers, she hadn’t been able to defend herself, her very identity stripped from her in the worst, most brutal way.  

She hadn’t been able to stop what had happened to her. She’d been defenceless. And she could be at any time again.  

This could happen again.  

Her vision swam, falling down the curb, hitting the road with a thud. The pain barely registered through what she already felt. Four blocks. Her body burned with pain and determination, the gates finally coming into view as she gasped hard, her ribs screaming in pain, likely broken, she thought. Stumbling at the last curb, she tripped up it and fell again, resting on the ground for a moment, the sidewalk cool against her burning face, tears sliding down her cheeks.  

What had she done to deserve this? Why her?  

Crawling along the floor, she felt like she’d been dragged over barbed wire, reaching up and with the last of her strength, pounding her hand against the metal gate. Please, let someone hear her...

Coco had just stepped outside to get the fire pits lit, squirting lighter fluid over the wood, a nearby Gilly dubiously telling him he was using way too much when he heard a tapping noise.  

“Yo, be quiet!” he hissed, listening. “You hear that?”  

Tap, tap, tap.  

“Gate.” Gilly confirmed with a nod, both of them heading over there. They were naturally suspicious, looking through the gap between where they met, not seeing anything there. Coco unlocking and swinging it open, looking around, and then down.  

“Holy fucking shit, bro!” he gasped, seeing a bloodied, barely conscious Lily lying there, rushing to her. “Lily? Lily, girl, what the fuck happened?” He reached for her, not knowing where on earth to grasp her in order to pick her up, she was so badly beaten. Had someone beaten her? She easily looked as if a car could have hit her, mangled as she was. She looked up, her vision blurring again, knowing there was a man next to her, but not quite sure who. She heard someone shouting ‘it’s Lily, she’s hurt’, but was she even at the scrapyard? What if she wasn’t? What if...  

Pulling herself up, disorientated, she tried to get away, confused, the pain shooting through her again. Coco wrapped his arms around her, trying to steady her as she shot through the gate, the sudden presence of a male body against hers sending a rip of fear through her. She screamed, terror finding her voice, thrashing, scratching his face until he released her, crashing back down.  

“Lily, it’s me, it’s Coco,” he spoke, standing over her. “You’re alright, it’s okay, chiquita, you’re safe. Calm down, let me help you.”  

Gilly shut the gate again, about to go and assist, Taza approaching. He took in the scene, his eyes quickly assessing everything as she lay there, screaming over and over, her injuries, the blood running down her legs, the panic. Grabbing hold of Coco by his belt, he hauled him back, pushing him, putting space between them and her.  

“Back up, give her room,” he spoke quietly, Coco a little exasperated.  

“Shit, Taza, she don’t need room, she needs help! Look at her!”  

Taza widened his eyes a little. “Yeah. Look at her. Look at her legs.”

Coco glanced back, his head spinning back. “She’s bleeding, homes! We gotta help her.”

“We need to give her room. Think about why a woman specifically would have blood running down her legs, and why – even well meaning – a man looming over her is making her scream uncontrollably. Think about it.”  

Her watched the cogs turn in Coco’s brain, before the penny dropped. “She’s been... someone... oh fuck.”  

“Yes. Oh fuck.” Taza looked back at her, her entire body trembling, wracked with panicked breaths, trying to curl into herself more. “Go and get me a blanket.” He nodded, running back to the clubhouse, Gilly looking on helplessly, telling him he was going to tell Bishop. “Keep everyone back, brother. She doesn’t need an audience right now.”

He knew trauma when he saw it, and right then, Lily was deeply, deeply traumatised from her ordeal. He had to treat her like a baby fawn, keep steady, speak quietly, ever mindful not to spook her. If she tried to bolt again, she’d inadvertently end up hurting herself even more than whoever had done this to her already had.  

Coco arrived back with the blanket, handing it over. “Thank you, now, step back. I know what to do.” He nodded again, trusting that Taza had it handled, watching him approach her very slowly.  

“Lilypad, it’s me, Taza. I know you’re scared and hurt, and I know why, too, I can see what happened to you,” he began, crouching before he lay down flat on his side upon the ground, making himself low and small, so he was on her same level, not above her. He lay out with a good six foot gap between them, slowly reaching with the blanket, pushing it out towards her. “Here, something tells me you might want this, so it’s there if you do, okay, darling?”

Her eyes were like saucers, her body still shaking, her face beginning to swell in places. She reached for the woven cloth, pulling it over, wincing, shaking it, unfolding it as best she could and pulling it over herself. Something to cover her, something she could curl into, hide in. He knew she needed a little piece of security.

“Okay, is that better?” he asked softly. She didn’t reply, merely shook. “Alright, you don’t need to speak, it’s fine. All in your own time, sweetheart. When you’re ready, though, we’re going to need to get you up and away from the gate, because Angel and EZ are out there right now looking for you, and we need to move you so they can get back in. That only happens on your timeframe, though, only when you feel you can. Do you understand, Lily?”

Again, she remained wide eyed, no reaction. He didn’t even know if she was registering anything he was saying. He kept going regardless, knowing he had to bring her back from wherever she was, because that place, it wasn’t good. He needed her to at least comprehend that she was safe. This was his first priority. “Lily, I want you to do one thing for me, just one. Listen to the sound of my voice. Just listen, and know that while you likely don’t feel it, you’re one hundred percent safe. You’re home, you’re with your family, nothing bad can get to you. I know you’re in a bad place in your mind, though, so just keep listening to my voice, okay? Just keep listening, so your mind comes back home, too.”

Finally, something registered with her, Taza watching her nod, yet still she trembled, the wounds on her neck concerning him, oozing blood all down her chest and onto the blanket. Raped at knifepoint. His stomach burned, angry flames licking against his insides. This was not the time to pay a drop of thought to his own feelings, though. “I’m here, Lilypad. Whenever you’re ready, just reach out to me, okay? All in your own time.”  

He shuffled a little closer, very, very slowly, reaching his arm out. “I love you, tough girl. Come back when you think you can. I think you’re so brave.” He let his hand fall open, upturned, watching her, trembling hard, gulping. Eventually, after what felt like many, many minutes had passed, she slowly moved her hand from beneath the blanket, her fingers touching his, grasping. He smiled, his own curling steadily until they closed in a soft hold.  

Coco watched it all unfolding, turning back to see the rest of the club all out on the deck, viewing it too, how amazing Taza was with her. He’d have never thought to do that, show such gentleness and patience, realising he likely would have made the situation a thousand times worse in merely attempting to help.  

With a layer of trauma peeled back enough to be able to reach her, Taza kept talking softly to her, his thumb gently stroking her fingers. “Is this okay?” she nodded. “Alright. Do you feel any closer to letting me help you up? I know it’s a big ask, I know, darling, so only when you’re ready, okay? It means I’ll have to lift you, and I don’t want to be in your space if that’s still scary. If it is, we can just stay here. Do you trust me enough to let me pick you up?”

Something in him breathed a small sigh of relief when she nodded, slowly gathering himself up, nothing rushed as he stepped towards her, reaching down to her. “Okay, one arm will go around your back and the other under your legs. Is that okay?” she nodded. “Alright. Up we go.” He gently lifted her, Lily allowing him to, but her entire body stiffening with rigidity, her trembles worsening. His heart went out to her, her bravery, how frightened he could only imagine she was in that moment. The poor girl was completely terrified. “Shhhh, it’s alright. You’re safe, you're with your family. It’s okay, Lilypad.”  

“Alright, everyone move out, go,” Bishop ordered quietly, knowing that even though every single one of them would be well meaning, the last thing Lily needed was a room full of people gawping at her, Taza taking the steps as he swung the door open for him, just the two of them taking her inside. Taza sat her down on one of the couches, Lily curling into a ball, her trembles still violent.  

“Baby, do you need anything?” Bishop asked her softly, keeping back. She pressed her lips together, her eyelids fluttering, staring at a fixed point somewhere past his legs.  

In the quietest of voices, she spoke. “Angel.”

“He’s on his way, sweetheart. He rode all the way over to Holtville, looking for you. He won’t be long now.” He made a move to approach her, wanting to comfort her in some way, Lily pressing her body back against the couch cushions, Taza splaying his hand out across his chest to halt him, shaking his head and jerking it back in the direction of the bar. Bishop nodded, walking over with him.  

“She’s completely traumatised,” his VP began, sighing, pulling a bottle of the strongest bourbon they had from its place and pouring two measures they both sank in one.  

“What happened to her, Taza? Has she spoken? All I got was Gilly shouting about her being hurt.”  

Taza took a deep breath. “Raped.” he croaked, shaking his head, Bishop’s mouth falling open, his eyes closing tightly. The poor kid. “Done at knifepoint. Beneath that blanket, she’s all cut up. She didn’t tell me, but the amount of blood running down her legs and how she completely freaked out, I put the pieces together, wishing the puzzle would have given me something, anything different to what it did.”

“Jesus fuck...” Bishop trailed off, pouring another shot and sinking it. “We need to get her to Maggie.” A hand on his arm halted his reaching for his phone, Taza shaking his head.  

“We need to wait for Angel to get back, and for everything to be done when she’s ready for it to. She’s fucking traumatised. Deeply traumatised. Everything has to be on Lily’s timeframe.”  

Bishop sighed, turning to view her, her eyes glazed, still trembling. “Yeah,” he breathed, scratching his stubbly jaw, “I see that. Angel is gonna go ballistic.”  

“I don’t know what was said to him, but you need to wait outside and explain it all to him, let him know he has to tread lightly with her, although with him, I’m unsure she’ll have the fear there, but I don’t know. I don’t want to second guess the emotions of a woman who’s just had the worst thing anyone can inflict upon her happen to her.”  

“I just told him she’d turned up and he needed to get back here. He yelled at me, Angel being Angel and demanding an answer, but truth was, I didn’t have anything more to tell him other than she was hurt.” His attention was taken then by the sound of a bike pulling up outside, pouring another measure and sinking it before he got up, heading out.  

“Where is she? What the fuck happened, Bish?” Angel demanded, throwing his helmet and gloves down as he ran for the steps, Bishop halting him.  

“Woah, easy,” he began, sighing. How on earth was he meant to word it, tell his brother what had just happened to his girlfriend, when the thing to happen was so horrific, he didn’t even want to speak it? “She’s inside, but I need you to stay calm.”

“Stay calm? You told me she was hurt, how am I meant to stay calm? Who the fuck hurt her?”  

“Steady, come on, Angel.” he shoved his chest, grasping his arm. “She’s in there, but she’s... she’s in a state of shock, traumatised. She was badly beaten, and raped.”  

At hearing those words, rage surged like wildfire through Angel, simultaneously meeting something that felt like an icicle plunging into his chest. “She was... she... what... what the fuck...” he babbled, his voice pinched, clasping his head in his hands as he spun around, taking big breaths, feeling light all over as the unpleasantness took root within him, like a poisonous vine. “Who?”

“We don’t know, brother. She isn’t speaking, it took Taza twenty minutes or so just to even get her up off the floor, she’s so badly shaken. That’s why you gotta go in there quiet, no storming, no shouting, and by god, mano, I can’t imagine how much you wanna let your anger win right now, but you have to hold it back, for her.”

Angel nodded, grasping Bishop’s arm, taking a deep breath before walking for the door, letting himself in. Looking around, he missed her at first, before her sudden emerging from within the blanket caught his vision, walking to her, speeding up when he witnessed her scrambling over the couch, yelping in pain, throwing herself into his arms as he sat.  

The noise she made, a long, shrill, wounded cry leaving her torn up body... he’d never forget that sound as long as he lived. It made his blood run cold, his heart breaking into a thousand pieces.  

“I got you, I got you, I got you, sweet pea. Shhhhh, it’s alright, I’m here, I’m here now.” She just howled, screaming against his neck as she clung to him, her emotions a swirling vortex that collided within her.  

Everything still hurt, nothing was okay, but finally, in the arms of her love, she at least felt safe.  

[guardiandae]

Tagged by the wonderful @rayadraws!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 70

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

710,529

3. What fandoms do you write for?

One Punch Man, Marvel. Formerly BTVS.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

" - 2,391 kudos "Natural" - 2,448 kudos "5+7" - 3,341 kudos "Milkyway" - 4,601 kudos "Salvaged" - 6,567

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Oh yes! But i have a habit that tends to backfire on me... I'll respond to all comments for a while and then after a couple weeks I'll stop responding because I want to finish a chapter first.... this is fine except sometimes by the time I let myself respond to all those old comments it's been like.... 5 years. LOL. But I really do like to reply to every single one.

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

The Distance Between Us

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Sugar & Spice

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Lmfao. Surprisingly rarely! I've maybe gotten two actual hate comments on my more spicy account. I've gotten more hate comments for making Saitama transmasc, but not by much. But like... I didn't make him transmasc anyway, it just happened. But yeah if people are whiny little bitches and I just roast them and then delete their comment because that doesn't fly for me, especially the transphobic weirdos.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Hell yeah. Ummm I like it when the weiners touch 👉👈

Actually lemme see. On my main account, my top tags are kind of all over the place. Mainly fluffy stuff, dirty talk. On my secret second account we'll get better results.... Watersports/Urination - obviously. Anal sex - duh, but boring. Dubious consent - spicy. Felching - MM. 🙏 Male lactation - MILK. HIM. 💦

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Only "Now Recruiting", which still gets a lot of love tbh. It's about the Avengers trying to recruit Saitama, which isn't too crazy. Fun though!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

WOOF. I hope not. The sites that scrape fics are scary.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Oh yeah 💜 I love my international fans, and I always say yes when someone asks to translate. I just ask that they remember to link up with mine!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

My memory is bad but I really don't think so. I don't play well with others >.< Also why I have turned down RP requests every time.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Wade/Nate. It might have hibernated for years, but it came back with a vengeance when it came back. But any ship I've written for, it's gotta be a hyperfixation for me, so I promise I love them all.

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

[Redacted]. But I'm not sure it's that I never will - it's that I think I overshot my ending and I actually need to hack it back a little and just end the fic. The way I kept going, it would've added another small arc to the fic that made it end on a sad note. And That, I'd probably never finish. The fic is old enough though that even thinking about opening it up to do that makes me cringe.

Secondary: Salvaged. But don't panic! It's not that I'll never finish it, it's that I will but still not any time soon. ;; It'll be a lot of work to open it up again and finish it. I wanna finish some other projects first, including new ones (oops). But I don't feel 'cringe' about opening it again. Just a loooottt of files to sift through.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I'm told my dialogue is amazing. I think it's because I enjoy practicing the lines, over and over again, and pacing everything out to make sure it sounds like something the character would actually say, and somewhat flow in real time.

I'm also quite lucky at being able to have details fall into place in really interesting ways. So that thing that seems elaborately planned out, who knows, lol. It's sort of half elaborately planned and half happy coincidence.

People also tell me that I manage to capture their imagination and especially their emotions. 🫶

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Finishing. Haha. I'll either catch stage fright if something gets really popular (especially if there's a sex scene, oop) or I'll get bogged down with things needing to be perfect, or a secret third thing - I get really attached and don't want to end the AU because then I worry I'll forget it exists.

Memory problems. Returning to a fic is harder because even after a month I don't remember what happened. And if I'm going without writing for any period of time I feel like I forget who I am as a writer completely. Sometimes I really can't understand who wrote a fic of mine, because it doesn't feel like it was me.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Ummmmm I do this very sparingly because I know that google translate is very flawed and I'm not fluent in any other language. Sometimes a little bit of french or spanish has been appropriate for a Deadpool fic, but not full dialogue.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Buffy The Vampire Slayer <3 I didn't include that in my fic count tho.... I don't dare go back to That Place, even just to look (FF.net)

20. Favorite fic you've written?

I'm gonna have to break it up by ship otherwise this ain't even fair--

"Hello, Handsome" - Cablepool - it's just soooo creative and fun! and COMPLETE! "5+7" - Genosai - another really fun one, emotional ups and downs but ultimately soooo fluffy and nice and one of those fics that changed my life. Almost done! "Yours" - Skirth/Agony - a rare f/f pairing but I really enjoyed writing them <333 COMPLETE "Milkyway" - Eddie/Symbiote - can something be a fluffy family fic AND really dirty filthy kinky at the same time? Apparently, somehow. COMPLETE.

Tagging @aeriamamaduck @pohjanneito and @theomnicode!

[truly-morgan]

[Reigen has a sensitive nose and Mob smells nice (18+)]

MobRei | Mob Psycho 100 05-06-2023

[#mobrei, Olfactophilia, 1933]

Reigen had realised pretty early on that his sense of smell was better than most people. It had made life annoying truly, with how sensitive it was.

Why did so many things need to smell so strongly? Was there truly a need for it?

Even some people smell really heavy, be it from their natural odour or because they were using perfume and cologne. It was one of the first thing he noticed about people, how they smelled.

And some people were just downright not smelling attractive at all, nor goof either.

it had been a bit hard finding lovers over the years, seeing how picky he'd get. But what should he do otherwise? Stick with someone he could barely stand the smell of?

And as much as he hated to admit it, some smells would turn him on more than others, it was the same for his partner's overall scent. He had met people that smell pretty attractive and got him going, while others would likely not have gotten him very far.

All this was probably part of why he had liked Mob so quickly. Children didn't smell too strongly in general, but Mob's scent was pretty soft and tamed for even his age, it made hanging out with him enjoyable on that front.

But then Mob was getting holder and hormones made smell more, although thankfully it wasn't necessarily in a bad way (or not all the time).

Mob's scent was changing and evolving with years, but Reigen found himself surprised to always like it, now very used to it.

Reigen would not acknowledge that he was actually growing to have a smell he rather liked. ("it will likely change later on anyway, don't focus on weird thing, you creep")

He was pretty certain Mob had to be aware of his ability, he had complained more than once about smells around him and hinted at it vaguely. Maybe that was a thing that had made the poor teenager feel self-conscious about his own scent around him, despite how Reigen had never complained about it and didn't hate it either (far from it).

He could still remember the time Mob had come to the office smelling completely different. If he had not looked up he would have thought it was a client who had bathed in perfume or something like that.

It was pretty strong and clearly didn't mix very well with the person's essence and scent.

He had been surprised to find Mob standing in the middle of the office, looking a bit nervous. "Did someone spilled perfume on you when you came here" Reigen had teased him, only to see the teenager blush suddenly, looking down at his feet, looking embarrassed.

"I-I wanted to try something new... is it that bad?" he then answer.

Reigen had felt a bit guilty for teasing him like this when he already looked nervous enough about it.

"Well... let's say it doesn't suit you very well" Reigen replied honestly, although he did his best not to sound harsh. It was really not suiting him at all. "I actually prefer your natural scent" he commented, before cringing at how weird it sounded, bordering on creepy even.

But it seemed to have been a good comment to make at the end of the day, seeing how reassured Mob looked when he heard him say that.

"But hey, how about I help you pick something more suited for you next time?" Reigen offered with a smile, "we'll find something that will make you stand out and smell great" he suggested.

And he sure had followed on his promise, helping Mob find something that made him smell very good. After that he hadn't been able to keep himself from being happy to smell the familiar cologne when Mob decided to wear it.

The more Mob grew into a fine young adult, the more Reigen found his thoughts wandering into dangerous territories, especially when the young man had just finished doing some physical effort (like when he came to work after club training).

He had thought Mob's scent would drift away from what Reigen found attractive?

How fucking wrong was he.

He hit bullseyes on what Reigen loved (even though the kid had no control over that).

There had been time where all Reigen wanted to do was bury his face against Mob and breath in the smell of his body, not letting him go until he drowned from it and would only remember that.

But he couldn't do that. Would never do that.

Mob was off-limit.

Until the college student came to live with him for a little while. Mob's parents were away on a trip and Ritsu stayed in his dorms for the break, so instead of being alone at home he had suggested Mob stayed with him while he was in town.

Mob would sometime lets his clothes on the corner of his bed instead of the basket. They always smelled so strongly of Mob.

His whole place was slowly starting to have hints of Mob attached to it and really, he wished it could just stay like this forever. He had somewhat accepted that he loved Mob more deeply than a mentor would a disciple (although by now they were more friends than simply mentor-mentee). Yet he knew Mob likely wasn't feeling the same and was better off with someone who wasn't as weird about his smell.

But his already shaky resolve was getting even shakier as days went by, having many opportunities to do once what he had always wanted to.

Mob was out to meet with old high-school friends, he wouldn't be back for a couple hours, he would be safe, right?

he had decided to go through Mob's used clothing, he had yet to do some laundry before going back. He found dragged a handful of clothes back to his bed, the smell already strong just from carrying them with him.

He hadn't done anything yet and he could feel himself twitch at the thought alone, feeling a bit stiff in his sweatpants already.

He palmed himself through the fabric, bringing one of Mob's gym tanktop to his face, taking in a deep breath.

It smelled of Mob, of his usual scent and sweat, making Reigen grow hard embarrassingly fast.

He kept breathing it the smell, burying his face into it as he pushing his hand down his pants, pushing them down enough to get his cock out.

Reigen had never done this before and he fell rather shameful for doing it, especially with Mob's things.

But it was just too tempting.

It went on for a while, switching clothes to find which one had the strongest scent on it.

OF course, the one which did was Mob's underwear.

He felt even more like a pervert for basically sniffing his underwear while jerking off, but it was just too good.

He could die now and he'd be pretty happy actually.

He was so focused on what he was doing, nose buried in the article of clothing, that he didn't register the door opening and closing.

"Shisho?" was suddenly called out.

Reigen nearly shrieks as he throws away the piece of clothing, as if it had burned him.  He has half the mind to try and his erection, unsure what to do with himself.

He thought he could die happy earlier, but right now he really wanted to die and for the floor to swallow him and never let his body and soul be found ever again.

He looks away, mouth opening and closing as he tries to find excuses. But what excuses is there to this? 'Sorry Mob, I was examining your underwear to make sure everything seemed fine and my dick just happened to slip out of my sweatpants'?

He might have managed to lie his way through a lot in his life, but at the moment he was at a lost of idea for one.

"Shisho" was suddenly called, so, so much closer than before.

"W-welcome back, didn't know you'd be back so early" Reigen said, trying to look natural even though there was no way Mob hadn't seen everything and wouldn't ask anything (who wouldn't?)

Surely, the young man was going to think he was a creep, worse maybe assume he had done this in the past.

"two of them started feeling sick so we decided to meet up another day" Mob replied calmly, leaning in close, too close even. "So this is what Shisho's does when am not here" he commented.

"I don't!!" Reigen nearly yelled, looking away when Mob arched a brow, "... this was the first and last time" he simply said.

"But what if I don't want it to be the last time?" Mob asked.

Reigen looked back at his shocked and confused. what was he talking abotut? his reaction only made the young man look a bit exasperated.

"I like shisho, and I've noticed the way you seemed to enjoy my smell and decided that maybe I could get you to like me too if I used that" Mob explained, "But shisho was oblivious to the many hints and opportunities I had left behind".

Reigen couldn't believe that Mob had done such a thing. So all the instances were Mob had left behind his gym clothes were on purpose? All the time Mob tried to get him to sniff him to make sure he didn't stink had also been meant like that?

His train of thoughts was halted when he felt a large hand cup his erection, groaning a bit at the contact. He had to force himself not to buck up into the touch. Next he felt himself being pulled closer to Mob, nose buried in the crook of his neck.

Oh, he was wearing that cologne he had gifted him.

"I know Arataka also likes me" Mob stated, speaking so close to his ear. "I don't need you to hold back for me, I want you all" he assured him.

Reigen sighed at his words, wondering if it was really alright to do so. But something in him also didn't want to fight against it either.

"Alright, alright" Reigen nodded, still hiding against his neck, "but let's talk a bit more serious about it once I've taken care of... this" he said, hand grabbing at Mob's wrist in an attempt to make him move his hand away.

"Then why don't I help you" Mob offered, "Maybe I could let you get it from the source itself" he added, clearly making references to what Reigen had been sniffing up until mere moments ago.

The idea sent a shiver down Reigen's back, holding in a shameful sound at the excitement he had at the idea alone.

"Please" Reigen ended up asking, feeling himself being pulled away, now facing a smiling Mob, looking happy and satisfied with how things were going.

The older man soon found himself kneeling on the floor between Mob legs, looking up at him as if he was trying to see if the young man was really okay with all this (despite being the one to suggest it).

He had never done this before with anyone, too embarrassed to ask really and to look even weirder than a lot of people probably thought he did.

He decided not to think too much about it, burying his face against Mob still clothed crotch, hand working lazily on himself once again.

The smell was even heavier than before, coming straight from the source. He was getting dizzy from how much he liked it, burying himself as close as possible, trying to get as much as he could.

He couldn't help the little chuckle that left him when he felt Mob growing hard at how he was nosing him, rubbing all over him like this.

"Let me help you too" he offered.

He quickly pulled down Mob's underwear, freeing his erection. With that, he started licking him a little, from the tip to the base, staying there a moment to get as much of his musk, making him drunk on it alone.

He hadn't given someone a blowjob in... quite some times, but he would say he was doing pretty good, from the look of it.

Mob wasn't small, but Reigen felt some pride in being able to take him down his throat with ease (thanks to his lack of gag reflex).

This allowed him to both pleasure Mob while being as close to what he had sought out.

He honestly felt like he couldn't last too long, already on the edge. He wanted to also do the same for Mob, and form the look of it he was pretty damn close too.

Reigen moaned when he finally came, throat constricting around Mob cock as he kept him as far as he could, nose buried in Mob's pube.

It had to be one of his best orgasms in a while, doing so while buried so close into someone's musk he liked so much.

Mob had to pull him back before he'd choke to death, whining a bit when he was taken away from the source of the smell, although he allowed it, surprised instead when he was pulled into a kiss by Mob.

"Did shisho enjoy it?" Mob asked, breath still uneven.

"The best thing I did months" Reigen grinned.

If Mob was going to accept that part of him and go along with him, he might as well be more honest about it too.

====

turned out more fun to write than I thought. ngl wasn't sure how to end it kmsdbnfkbasvl hope everyone who voted for this are happy

Original

[ghostbustersreborn]

Chapter 9

a short while later, they were all let out of the institution.

while, getting their flights suit on louis told them about how oscar was taken away.

"what did dana do? where did she go?" asked peter.

"she said she was going to the museum to get the baby back." louis replied. he then continued to ramble on.

tara was off in the back, feeling bad for how she treated the boys earlier.

when they went through another door. tara felt it was right to apologize.

"uh, guys?"

they all turned to her.

"i'm sorry."

"oh, hunny don't be. we were under a lot of pressure when in there." ray forgave her.

"yeah. there's no need to be sorry." peter agreed.

she looked over to egon. "i'm sorry for pushing you away, egon."

"it's okay." he ruffled her hair.

"okay, we good?" winston made sure.

she smiled. "yeah."

"well, what are we waiting for? let's go!"

*

pink slimed covered the entirety of the museum. there was an entire crowd surrounding it, voicing their confusion on the slime covered building.

people got out of the way as soon as they saw the ecto 1A drive through.

everyone began to cheer.

they pulled up in front of the museum. they got out ready to face the slimified monstrosity.

"it's so ugly." tara cringed.

"it looks like a giant jell-o mold." ray commented.

"i hate jell-o." winston said.

"i do too." tara said.

"oh, come on, there's always room for jell-o." peter defended the strange food.

egon stared at the slime, he narrowed his eyes at it. he saw it pulsate and gurgle.

they stepped forward towards the slime.

"this better be an easy one." she hoped.

"pull 'em." ray said as he got out his netruona wand.

more cheers sounded from the crowd.

"full netruons."

they each turned them on.

the devices hummed as it loaded up with energy.

"let's cook!" ray declared.

they aimed their wands at the building and started to fire.

alas no luck, not even a single proton stream put a dent in the pink mood slime.

"what's the deal?" tara questioned, when putting a stop to her proton stream.

"save 'em." ray said.

the crowd booed.

steam came off from the slime.

"that slime wall is pulsating with evil." said egon. "it would take a tremendous amount of positive energy to crack that shell and i seriously doubt that there's enough good will left in this town to do it."

"what do you want us to do then? sing?" tara sarcastically suggested.

ray leaned on the front of the car, trying to think of a plan.

"you know, i just can't believe things have gotten so bad in the city that there's no way back!" he vented.

tara nodded. "yeah. i don't remember the last time i saw someone being nice to another person."

"i mean, sure it's dirty, it's crowded, it's polluted, it's noisy, and there's people all around who'd just as soon step on your face as look at you." ray listed off. "but, come on, there've gotta be a few sparks of sweet humanity left in this burned-out burg! we've just gotta figure out a way to mobilize it."

"he's right." egon agreed. "we need something that everyone in this town can get behind, we need..."

he glanced down at the license plate. on it was the statue of liberty.

the one that held new york together. the one that made new york, new york.

they all followed his gaze.

"a symbol." he started.

ray got it.

"something that appeals to the best in each and every one of us."

egon kneeled down, staring at the license plate.

"something good." he claimed.

"something decent." winston chimed in.

"something pure." peter added.

tara closed her eyes, with a smile. "food." she hummed.

"no." all four of the boys said in unison.

*

"she's big." tara commented when they were standing before the statue of liberty.

"kind of makes you wonder doesn't it?" peter inquired.

tara turned to him.

"wonder what?" winston questioned.

"wonder if she's naked under that toga." peter clarified.

tara scoffed. "you perv!" she smacked him.

"she's french, you know that." he added on.

"and you're a pervert." she stated.

he smirked.

they soon started prepping to bring the statue to life with the mood slime.

one small thing could make this go wrong, so they had to make sure they got every little thing in order.

"got it!" egon said, grabbing the rope. "ready with the speakers, ray. slime blowers ready?" he asked as he fixed one of the speakers.

"okay! audio's set, electric's set." ray got back to him.

"slimed blower, primed and set." winston said, having it on.

"oh god, this is heavier than the proton pack." tara complained.

"you better not be complaining into 1990." peter advised her.

"i'll try not to." she cracked a smile.

"winston, is our slime in a good mood tonight?" he asked, stroking the slime blower.

"i hope so. she's a lot bigger than a toaster." he expressed.

"all yours, venkman. let's go." egon said, handing him the microphone.

peter started testing it out, by saying a bunch of random shit into it.

tara couldn't help but laugh at her father.

"here with me tonight, is my beautiful daughter. want to give the audience a "hello"?" peter said pulling her over to him.

tara grabbed the mic.

"yeah. i'll say more than a hello." she told him. "mental institutions? overrated. get them out of here. we don't want them in the year 1990."

she handed the microphone back to peter.

"okay." he chuckled. "weird but interesting."

"it's slime time." ray declared. "here, tara. help us will ya?" he requested.

"yeah, i guess i'll help." she shrugged.

winston and ray clanked their slime blowers together before going off to the side to go and slime the shit out of the statue of liberty.

they turned on their slime blowers and started coating the statue with the pastel pink slime.

"beautiful!" ray expressed.

"very." tara nodded.

after they were finished, they went up to the inside of the statue.

egon took a controller which looked a lot like a game boy controller out.

"pilots controls are ready."

"all right. it's getting late, it's almost midnight. let's go, venkman." he said.

peter brought the microphone back up to his mouth. "here's something off the request line from liberty island!" he announced. "we gotta squeeze some new year's juice from you, big apple!"

tara switched on the walkman. higher and higher started to play.

the mood slime's favorite song.

they waited with bated breath for the statue to start moving.

tara held egon's hand, a little bit nervous about being so high up in the air.

egon gave her hand a small squeeze.

the slime pulsated with bright pink electricity as it brought the iconic statue to life.

electricity crackled as the slime pulsated.

the torch exploded into flames, the group looked over seeing the flames coming from the now lit torch.

metal squeaked as the statue of liberty got off from her stand. she stepped into the water, heading for the city.

"man, i can't wait to see people's faces when we come onshore!" ray gushed. "this should really get the city's positive energy flowing, huh venky?"

"keep kickin' libby!" peter told the statue.

"this is a story to tell the grandchildren someday." tara said to herself.

"what a story this would be." ray agreed.

"you make this work, we'll pop for a weekend in vegas with the jolly green giant." venkman said.

*

the statue made its way through the city, with people all over cheering.

"it's a love fest, new york!" peter exclaimed.

"sing it out!" ray cried.

the boys all shouted.

tara was silent. she was trying hard not to look down.

god, why did she want to look down?

'your love keeps lifting me, lifting me higher!' peter sang off key.

"oh god, ew." she cringed.

"come on, you sing!" winston encouraged the crowd.

"we're running out of time, ray." egon said to him.

"can't she go any faster?" asked peter.

"i'm afraid the vibrations will shake her to pieces!" claimed ray.

"yeah and we'll get mighty sued for that." tara chimed in.

"we should have padded her feet." stantz stated.

"i don't think they make nikes in her size, ray." egon sassed him.

"oh, don't worry. she's tough, she's a harbor chick!" peter assured them.

accidentally, the statue of liberty stepped on a police car.

tara opened her eyes right as it happened. she furrowed her brows.

"yikes." was all she could say to that.

"oh sorry, my fault!" ray quickly apologized.

"are we going to get sued for that?" she questioned.

"oh, god i hope not." winston prayed.

*

when they got to the museum..

"come on, baby, i love you when you roughhouse." peter encouraged it.

"hit it, mama!" egon yelled.

"drop the hammer on her!" ray cried out.

"don't be scared to break some glass, okay?" tara called out.

with a swift move of her torch, the glass roof shattered to pieces. the ropes fell down and in came the ghostbusters to save the day.

"happy new year!" peter cried.

"he's vigo! you are like the buzzing of flies to him." mocked janosz.

he looked over to the painting, his smile disappearing when noticing that vigo was no longer there.

"oh, johnny, did you back the wrong house." peter chuckled. "will you hose him, please?"

doing as they were told. they hosed him down.

"one down."

"on the ground." they said once he was unconscious.

dana smiled, coming over to them.

"boy, am i glad to see you!" dana expressed, before planting a kiss on venkman's lips.

tara smiled. she was happy to see them back together again.

"oh, oscar, oscar." peter said.

dana handed oscar over to him.

she looked over to janosz and asked "is he dead?"

ray shook his head. "this slime is positively charged." he confirmed. "he'll wake up feeling like a million bucks."

"whoa, this little gentleman is a little bit ripe." peter commented. "that's all right, my friend. i think i had a little accident too."

"TMI dad." tara laughed.

egon's PKE meter started to buzz.

tara looked over to him, a frown now on her face.

"that doesn't sound good." she shook her head.

peter stepped forward, holding oscar closer to him.

from behind dana, a black piece of metal of some sort slowly reached out towards her.

metal from behind egon crashed, causing him and winston to jump.

then, the black metal tied dana up. preventing her from moving.

she let out a surprised yell.

the boys and tara ran over to her, trying to free her. but it was no use. nothing could free her from her restraints.

"get him away!" dana pleaded, obviously referring to oscar.

peter went off to the side, looking for somewhere safe to put him.

"get a knife or something, we've gotta cut her out of this!" ray yelled.

peter grabbed a spare blanket from off of the table. he kneeled down, resting the blanket on the floor.

"all right, now listen. you've gotta stay right here, don't move!" peter instructed the infant. "uncle pete's gotta go help your mom for a second. you stay right here and don't say anything, okay?"

peter sighed.

they were still trying to free dana from her restraints.

"god, nothing's working!" tara huffed.

they then looked up just as a figure appeared.

it was vigo.

"uh-oh."

uh-oh was right.

"he's uglier in person." tara looked him up and down.

as he walked, he looked translucent. like he wasn't entirely there.

"hold it right there, deadhead!" ray stopped him. "you want a baby? go ahead and knock up some willing hellhound!" he threatened. "otherwise, i'm giving you three to get back in that painting where you belong!"

they aimed their wands, ready to fire.

"one." he counted.

"two!" peter jumped up.

vigo grinned.

"three!" they all yelled, firing at him.

vigo screamed in pain, as his body was being thrown towards the empty canvas.

"you've got him, you've got him!" stantz declared.

vigo let out a roar, pink electricity hit the group making them drop to the floor.

they all groaned in pain.

"that was really stupid." winston stated.

vigo growled as he made his way to the baby.

"ray, can you move?" he asked him.

"no." ray replied. "no. are you okay?"

"no. venkmans, how are you?" egon then asked.

"not any better." tara groaned.

"i'm fine." peter lied.

vigo was just mere feet away from oscar. the only thing separating them was the pieces of furniture that were in the way.

he held his hands out, having the pieces of furniture telekinetically pushed out of the way revealing the baby hiding behind it.

vigo made his way towards the baby with a sickening grin plastered on his face.

oscar looked scared.

"no!" dana cried, trying to free herself from her restraints. "no! oscar!"

vigo picked up oscar.

"please, do something!" she turned to the group.

"uh, we would if we could move!" tara said in a "duh" like tone.

vigo started to take the baby over to the painting.

"not so fast, vigo!" peter spoke up. "hey, vigo! yeah, you! the bimbo with the baby."

vigo snarled.

"didn't anybody tell you the big shoulder look is out?" he asked. "you know, i have met some dumb blondes in my life and before you ask, tara i do not mean you."

tara sighed of relief. she really thought she had to go and throw hands. well, if she wasn't paralyzed from the waist down she would.

"but you take the taco, pal."

vigo growled making the baby whimper.

"only a carpathian would come back to life now and choose new york." peter criticized. "tasty pick, bonehead. if you had a brain in that huge melon on top of your neck, you would be livin' the sweet life out in southern california's beautiful san fernando valley."

and guess what that got them?

being electrocuted by pink streams.

thanks a lot, peter!

tara screamed.

blood dripped down her nose.

"oh, darn. darn it." was all peter could say.

it was like he didn't feel anything at all.

vigo lifted up the baby. "now, we become one!" he declared.

the baby screamed and cried, thrashing about.

just as vigo was about to take his soul, the sound of singing coming from outside interrupted him. which caused him to keel over in pain.

"where's that singing coming from?" ray wondered.

"people outside." winston answered.

the singing was vigo's weakness.

"he's weakening." spengler pointed out. "the singing is neutralizing the slime!"

vigo thrashed in pain.

the pink hue disappeared from around the group. they could finally move.

"i can move!" ray cried.

"oscar!" dana yelled.

finally, being free from her restraints.

vigo dropped the baby, to which peter quickly caught him in time.

dana grabbed oscar from peter.

"oh, sweetie." she cooed to the baby.

ray got up. as well as the others.

vigo was back in the painting.

"he's back in the painting!"

vigo roared. his face turned distorted.

it was kind of funny.

"all right, go find a shady spot." peter told dana.

dana quickly ran off to go hide with oscar.

ray turned back over to the painting, he saw the red eyes.

those red eyes that put him in a trance before.

"viggy, viggy, viggy." peter played with him. "you have been a bad monkey!"

ray stepped towards the painting, fully entranced with it.

"ray, we'd like to shoot the monster now." tara said to him.

she tried getting his attention.

"uh, guys, ray is in a trance of some sort."

"ray!"

"ray!"

"no, i, ray, am vigo shall rule the earth!" demonic vigo declared.

"no, the fuck you not." she objected.

"now!" peter nodded.

they all shot at vigo with their proton streams.

winston and egon slimed the crap out of ray.

while, outside louis tully shot at the building with his proton blast.

vigo was nothing but a head now.

he screamed as the streams attacked him.

little by little, vigo's head shrunk turning into nothingness.

the painting exploded.

everyone shielded themselves from the said explosion.

the slime from the building disappeared along with the vigo painting.

everyone outside cheered.

"i did it! i did it!" louis cheered. "i'm a ghostbuster!"

inside.

"you alright?" winston asked ray as him and egon helped him up. "let's get this off you, there here we go." they wiped a good chunk of the slime off.

"how do you feel?" winston then asked him.

"groovy." ray said back to him.

"you alright?" peter asked dana.

tara stood off to the side watching them.

peter turned to her.

"come here!" he motioned.

she went over. peter wrapped his arm around her.

"you did great." he praised her.

"thank you." she smiled.

"yes, thank you peter." dana told him.

"spread out, shorty." peter handed oscar over to tara and pushed them out of the way.

peter and dana leaned in close, kissing on the lips.

tara covered oscar's eyes. "don't watch. too young." she said to him.

"i love you guys." ray said to egon and winston.

he looked over to tara.

"i love you tara, so much." he gushed.

"i-i love you too. just don't come over here, please." she requested.

"i love all you guys." he expressed.

"that's great, ray." egon nodded.

"and i love venkman." he listed off.

"we gotta live with this?" winston asked egon.

"real friendship."

janosz was still on the floor, but now he was singing.

"hey." winston nudged him.

"sir, are you alright?" egon asked, helping him up.

janosz groaned. "why am i drippings with goo?" (my favorite line out of the whole movie.)

"you had a violent, prolonged transformative psychic episode." spengler explained.

"huh?"

"sorry, we had to hose you there, but you were kind of out of control." ray apologized. "hey, man, let me tell you somethin'. i love you."

he barely even knew him. what?

tara stepped over to egon.

"how long is this going to last?" tara asked him.

[kfh-fiction]

The Fan - Chapter 1

November 8, 2016 - Lea

I turned on the TV in my bedroom, feeling cautiously optimistic about what was to come.  It was Election Night of 2016 and I’d spent the past year working for Hilary Rodman, a candidate who I’d really liked from her time as First Lady, then as a Senator and finally as Secretary of State.  She fought for things I believed in, like abortion rights, better education, affordable health care, strong international relations, marriage equality, gun control and building more jobs.  So I was thrilled when she decided to run for president and got involved in her campaign right away.  

My wall was decked out with a Hilary for president sign and a “Love Trumps Hate” sign, along with posters from other campaigns I’d been involved with. The newest addition to my wall, though not political, was from last week, when my favorite baseball team, the Brooklyn Chargers, won the World Series. Hopefully, I’d soon have Hilary Rodman victory posters to put on the wall.

Before Barack Obana was elected president eight years ago, the country was in the midst of two wars and the worst economic crisis in a century.  Over the past eight years, unemployment had dropped, the Affordable Care Act had passed and marriage equality had become a reality.  But there was still more to be done and I was sure Hilary Rodman would continue that progress. The warmer-than-usual-for-November weather felt like a good omen for things to come.

As an individual, my life had been full of ups and downs over the past eight years.  The first campaign I’d really been actively involved with was Obana’s, when I was a high school senior, too young to vote by one year.  So I spent my weekends at the Obana office making phone calls, stuffing envelopes and entering data. I did this again for his re-election campaign four years ago.

Then college started. It was a disaster. My whole life, I’d struggled with anxiety and depression, and the large college campus with lots of people and lots of noise didn’t mesh well with my anxiety. I’d never done well on exams, and since exams were such a big part of college, my grades were consistently low. At least in high school, even though I hadn’t been close to very many people, there were a lot of people who I liked who I also thought liked me. I struggled to make friends and I’d struggled with exams my whole life. After three and a half years, I decided to take a break and got a retail job. After two and a half years at the retail job, I’d gone back to college. While I was doing better this time around, it was hard balancing school and work and the exams were still giving me trouble. I was doing homework on the bus between school and work so that I had more free time during my limited time at home. I didn’t even get to do as much volunteering for Hilary’s campaign as I would have liked.

There had been one bright spot during my first college stint: I started watching the TV show Glee as a freshman, and as a sophomore, I began writing fanfiction about the Finn/Rachel pairing, or Finchel, as it was known.  I’d made friends online through my fanfiction writing and gotten all sorts of positive comments.  Finchel had gotten me through my early college struggles, my trouble with finding a job before I got the retail job I had now, through anxiety and depression spells... then the actor who played Finn died, and the writers killed Finn rather than hiring a new actor or giving Finchel an offscreen happy ending.  That had been devastating for me, but the Hilary Rodman campaign and the Chargers World Series win helped me feel better about the loss of Finchel.  I looked at my wall, where I still had a Finchel poster, right next to the Chargers World Series Champions poster.

The first thing I saw when I turned on the TV was the Republican presidential nominee, Donald Drumpf. Just the sight of the obese man, with the overdone spray tan and the blonde hair that looked fake, made me cringe. Drumpf was a bully, narcissistic, immature, ignorant, racist, homophobic, sexist, anti-Islamic, anti-immigrant and anti-disabled.  He constantly threatened and mocked people. He had no experience. 

I remembered the day I’d been at the gym and seen Drumpf mock a disabled reporter and asked the person on the bike next to mine how anyone could support someone like that. I remembered watching TV the day after the Democratic National Convention and Drumpf had attacked a Gold Star Family who’d spoken on Hilary’s behalf.  I remembered leaving class one day and a classmate told me that a recording had surfaced of Drumpf talking about how he could just “grab (women) by the pussy.”  

Yet, the horrible things Drumpf said were garnering more and more attention, and no matter how horrible the thing he said was, it couldn’t lose him supporters.

But Hilary was up in the polls.  She did better in the debates.  She had more endorsements.  Even a few Republicans were backing her, or at least refusing to back their own nominee.  And although I was worried, all the prediction markets were predicting that she would win.

I scrolled through my social media feeds.  Most of the people I followed were posting pro-Hilary statuses.  One thing stood out - a post from my favorite player on the Chargers, Colton Krenshaw, encouraging people to get out and vote.  I felt a connection to all the Chargers because they made up the team I loved watching, but he was definitely my favorite. He was one of the best players in the league, a great catcher and a great hitter, yet he was very humble. He did a lot of great work in the community. I’d wanted the World Series title for all of them, but especially for him. I’d met him a few times and he’d always made me feel special and so appreciated.

My thoughts were interrupted when CNN announced their first calls.  They were calling Indiana and Kentucky for Drumpf and Vermont for Hilary. Drumpf had 19 electoral votes and Hilary had 3. Oh well, the states Hilary was expected to do well in weren’t closing until later. She would win this election, right?  After all, in 2008 and 2012, Obana was behind at first because of the states that closed early and won by a huge margin.

My computer beeped. I had a new email. Another failed exam. I’d never been very good at school. I wasn’t sure what it was, but no matter how hard I tried, I never managed to pass exams.  Every time I took an exam, it went the same way. I’d go into the test-taking room in Iowa University’s disability service office with those stupid sight blockers surrounding the desk. My mind would go blank when I was handed the exam, and no matter how hard I studied, all the information would be forgotten when it was handed to me. The time seemed to pass slowly, but in reality, it would go by quickly. I wasn’t even sure how I’d gotten into IU, which was supposed to be the best university in the state, after three and a half years of doing poorly at another state school. Maybe because of my essay about my history with anxiety and depression and how I was able to live with them.

The 8 p.m. polls closed. Hilary won New Jersey, Massachusetts, Delaware and Maryland and had 44 electoral votes now. She was up by 10 points in Ohio, up by 7 in North Carolina, up by 7 in New Hampshire and up by 1 in Florida. This was amazing! Maybe all those panic attacks and sleepless nights had been for nothing. Hilary was winning. Drumpf had picked up West Virginia and Oklahoma, but Hilary wouldn’t have won those states anyway.

The deep south polls were starting to close. Now Drumpf had picked up Alabama, Mississippi, Tennessee and South Carolina. He had 66 electoral votes to Hilary’s 48, as she’d only just picked up Rhode Island.  But she was still up in Ohio, Pennsylvania, Michigan, North Carolina and New Hampshire... couldn’t the networks just call these states for her? My heart was starting to beat fast.

I remembered when I went to go see Hilary speak about a month ago. I’d barely slept the night before because I was so excited and went pacing around my apartment in hopes of wearing myself out to get some sleep, but that didn’t work. I got to the rally’s location, IU’s football stadium, early so I could get a good place in line. It had been a long wait.  There had been lots of people and they’d played loud music. I didn’t like crowds, noise or music at all, so that hadn’t been pleasant. I wanted to go to a quiet place to wait, but I knew if I did, I’d lose my place in line and not get a good glimpse of Hilary. 

More than once, I found myself wondering if it would be worth it. What if I couldn’t even see her from where I was standing, and if people were standing too close to me, and the music got too loud?

Once Hilary came out, it was all worth it. I had an amazing seat in the 100,000-seat stadium and didn’t need to look at the projector to see her at the podium. She was even more impressive in person than she was on television and online. I didn’t think it was possible for someone in such a stressful position to have so much energy and be so happy, but there Hilary was, in her signature pantsuits, talking about all her ideas for the country. It made all the difficult times I had gone through worth it.

Wait. What was happening now?  Why were Hilary’s leads in the swing states shrinking?  Now Drumpf was up in Wisconsin, Michigan, New Hampshire, Virginia, North Carolina, Georgia, Florida, Ohio - and Iowa. Iowa. My home state.  The state I’d done so much work in. Yes, Hilary had just won a few states and had 104 electoral votes now. She’d picked up Illinois and Connecticut, and to my surprise, she had won New York, Trump’s home state. But he had 129 thanks to Arkansas, Texas, North and South Dakota, Nebraska and Kansas and was halfway to 270. That didn’t even take into account all the swing states he was up in. This was bad.

I was strongly reminded of Election Night 2004. I’d been a thirteen-year-old at my parents’ house. My family was optimistic that John Carey would become president and my parents had a party snack tray for me and my brother, who was six at the time. My parents had also gotten us each a map to color in as the states were called - blue for the Democratic states, red for the Republican ones. There were times when John Carey had a lead, like Hilary Rodman had less than an hour ago. But the clock ticked on that night, and I’d colored more states in red than in blue. 

Eventually, I felt  like I could fall asleep on the couch in the living room, but I’d wanted to stay up so I could be there when the news anchors announced my idol had been elected president. At around midnight, my parents sent me to bed. I had school in the morning. That morning, it was revealed that the incumbent president had won the election. I couldn’t remember that morning well, but I did remember breaking down crying at school and losing motivation to do anything. I remembered stabbing myself with my mother’s knitting needles with plans to kill myself because I didn’t want to continue to live in a world with George Walker as president. I remembered the trip to the ER after I’d been caught and being lectured by a psychiatrist about how self-harming and suicide weren’t the answer, that he wouldn’t be president forever and that things would get better.

The night before that election, I had gone to see John Carey speak, and it had been absolutely incredible.  Back in 2004, my struggles with school were beginning and I basically had no friends, had just been diagnosed with anxiety and was even having trouble with figure skating. But one thing made me smile - the Carey campaign.  I’d gone to his website every day to watch videos of his campaign events and his ads and had been convinced he’d defeat the incumbent president and put a stop to the Iraq war that I thought was pointless.

That hadn’t happened.  But certainly the United States had learned something, right?  They wouldn’t elect someone even worse than George Walker, would they?

My phone went off.  It was a text from my dad.  “This is bad.”

My parents had a feeling this wasn’t good either. They’d reassured me a lot when I talked to them about my fears about the election. If they thought it was bad, it must be bad. I replied to the text.  “I’m scared.”

My dad texted back. “Germany survived Hitler.  Russia survived Stalin.”

I didn’t even know how to respond to that. Millions of Jews died under Hitler. The people who survived were the people who didn’t have to be afraid in the first place. I knew I probably wouldn’t be alive without my antidepressants and anti-anxiety meds, which were covered by Obana’s healthcare plan. If Drumpf won, he’d certainly repeal that plan, and my anxiety and depression would probably kill me.

I felt like I was going to throw up. I ran to the bathroom and tried to throw up, but nothing came out. I wanted to cry. It wasn’t over yet. But these leads weren’t going away. Drumpf had picked up Montana, Wyoming and Louisiana and was more than halfway there now at 140, and had added leads in Georgia and Nevada. Hilary had leads in Minnesota, Colorado and New Mexico, but that wouldn’t be enough.

My phone went off with another text from my dad. “We have each other. That’s what matters most.”

I considered calling my parents, but often they got annoyed when I had one of my freakouts. I hated my freakouts, too. I always hated them. But I needed support during them.  Still, it wasn’t fair to burden my parents. I was an adult now. I couldn’t force myself on them. I started crying now, not even bothering trying to stop myself. 

My roommate had gone to a bar with friends to watch the results, so I was at the apartment alone and didn’t have to worry about my roommate hearing me. I was sure there were green boogers on my face. My stomach hurt and I could barely see clearly. This was one of the extreme ones, ones that regularly happened after the 2004 election and the loss of Finchel, ones I didn’t even bother trying to stop because they came anyway. This was a mixture of the physical and emotional extremes, not just the extreme thoughts, fast heartbeats, soreness, chest pain, saying bizarre things, and inability to stay still that usually led to pacing around wherever I was at the time when I had my more mild freakouts.  All I could do now was hope that things got better - and cry. I was lucky the people in the apartment upstairs didn’t hear me. It was dark and rainy outside, as if that was an omen for bad things to come. My phone went off with a text from my mom. “Do you want to come home for a few days?”

My parents seemed to think this was over.  Whenever I talked to them about my fears about the election, they talked about how they were sure Hilary would win. Did they really believe that? I replied to the text.  “I can’t put my life on hold.”

I logged on to her computer again. The people I followed were getting nervous, too. There were lots of “I’m nervous” and “why is this happening” type posts rather than the earlier posts of anticipation and optimism. 

These posts made things even more confusing. Practically everyone I knew was voting for Hilary. From the town I’d grown up in, to college, to my various jobs, I’d spent most of my life in liberal settings. But posts didn’t get people elected, signs didn’t get people elected, endorsements didn’t get people elected. All that mattered was who got out to vote. Drumpf’s supporters called themselves the “silent majority.” Maybe that was what they really were. They didn’t talk about it or put up signs or put posts on social media, but they did go to the ballot box and vote. I’d done whatever work I could fit into my busy schedule, as had so many people in other swing states, but that hadn’t been enough, clearly. I wished I could have done more.

Now I got another text, from my brother, Johnny.  “Love you!”

Iowa was called for Trump. I collapsed to the floor, feeling like I was having a heart attack now and sure I’d have a carpet burn soon. Iowa, the state I’d worked so hard in for the past three presidential elections. I got out my phone and texted my parents and brother: “I’m just so sad.”  What else was there to say? I was more than sad. I was terrified. I was angry. I was hurt. I was sick.

The 11 p.m. polls closed, and Hilary added Washington, Oregon, California and Hawaii to her column. But this all likely wouldn’t be enough. The leads in the swing states weren’t going away, and the red Iowa stood out like a blister. Why? Why was this happening? How had all those polls been so off?

I saw that I had new text messages from my parents and brother. I wasn’t going to burden them right now. If I talked to anyone, I’d likely start hyperventilating and crying. I couldn’t believe I was watching someone I looked up to being beaten by who I thought was the worst person I’d even seen.

In a way, I could believe this was happening.  The people and things I was a fan of ALWAYS went up in smoke. The one exception was the Chargers winning the World Series last week. Of course there was what happened with John Carey twelve years ago. Three years ago, Finchel had been destroyed. After both the 2004 election and the loss of Finchel, I had been furious and depressed, not wanting to do much of anything and spending much of my time crying in my room. My family and friends hadn’t understood why I was so upset. I was attached to the people and things I was a fan of because I had so much trouble forming close relationships, but people didn’t get that. It only made sense that Hilary Rodman would meet the same fate as other things I loved.

Florida was called for Drumpf. Colorado and Nevada were called for Hilary, but Drumpf was still up in electoral votes. Even worse, the gaps in the swing states were shrinking. Now Georgia and Ohio were called for Trump. Would any of the swing states come through? Hilary was up in New Hampshire, but that was only four electoral votes.

Time passed. The news anchors were supposed to be bipartisan, but I could tell they were confused too, and scared. The country was at risk. My feeds on Facebook, Instagram and Twitter were full of posts of panic, posts about how Hilary didn’t deserve this and how it was unfair that all of Obana’s progress would be undone.

Then Pennsylvania was called for Drumpf. He had 264 electoral votes now. Only six more were needed. This was over. He would definitely win Alaska, which was three, meaning Hilary had to win all the states that hadn’t been called yet, and Drumpf had leads in Arizona, Michigan and Wisconsin.

It was clear to me now.  The universe didn’t want me to be happy.  Every time I was happy, a huge blow came and destroyed it.  Sure, there were periods of my life where I’d managed myself well enough, but I was tired of this. I was tired of anxiety. I was tired of depression. I was tired of Colton being with Helen. I was tired of the things I liked getting ruined. I was tired of failed exam after failed exam. I was tired of being on my feet all day at my retail job and still being criticized there for every little thing. I was tired of Drumpf.

But I wouldn’t be getting rid of Drumpf. Alaska was called for him and so was Arizona.  He’d won.

The internet was appalled - well, the people I followed on the internet were appalled.  But clearly, there were people out there who weren’t appalled.  People thought all the horrible things he said and did were okay.  Hilary wasn’t perfect, but who was?  This was so disgusting, so sickening, so upsetting.  I didn’t want to deal with it.  It hadn’t even happened yet and I was tired of it.  I was tired of Drumpf.

And maybe it would all be better if it was just all over.  I was going to die if Drumpf repealed Obana’s health care act, which he certainly would.  Maybe I should just get it over with and not have to suffer through the Drumpf presidency. I scribbled a note to leave on my dresser that I couldn’t live in a world where Drumpf was president. I headed to my car. The night felt endless. I wanted to drive and didn't care where I ended up, only for there to be an end.

[koushirouizumi]

Just Adv-02 Standom Things

You know what I hate most about this situation right now?

How the person who stole my {Meiko} gif in question is now weaponizing the "old days" of FDD {Fictional Digidestined} as a means of ignoring the current situation in which they're blatantly lying about using my Meiko gif for a hatepost they made on 0801.

WHILE I WAS TRYING TO ACTUALLY CELEBRATE 0801 TOO.

And how they're a ~fellow Adventure{s} fan~ from ~the old days~---

Before "D.N.I."s ever existed on this Site, we used banners like these.

ALL OF US HAD THEM. ALMOST EVERY SINGLE ONE OF US. BECAUSE PEOPLE KEPT STEALING OUR SHIT FOR THEIR OWN WEB SHRINES AND NEVER OWNED UP TO IT WHEN CAUGHT.

I literally had one of the first 02 O.C. shrines on the web. If people like that visited my site, they were confronted with this banner on the very first page. It looked similar to the page of the Neo-cities revival I've been working on for over a month now.

This is what I have to emphasize now.

People still will blatantly ignore it, talk over you, try to convince you in their own damn terms "actually, this is the IMAGE STEALING website, so of COURSE I'm allowed to steal your images, creations, fan things and every single one of your O.C.s with their exact palettes too, you didn't create this O.C. you only ~re-colored~ it and those pixels {by hand}!!1!!!!" and "you should be grateful, it means free publicity!!!" and "YOU DONT OWN *COPY-RIGHT* TO OTHERS *ORIGINAL I.P.s*""

They'll wax poetic about the "old O.C. days" on D.A., when I was on D.A. too, I STILL HAVE AN ACCOUNT THERE, and I would have confronted them their about stealing my shit too, and I *might* have gotten a slightly better response from D.A. back then.

They'll post about their O.C.s while blatantly ignoring me DEMANDING them multiple times to remove my gif.

They'll talk about the "~old Adventure fan base~" "~before all these CRINGE AUTISTS ruined it~" all without knowing I WAS AN ~AUTIST~ EVEN BACK THEN, AND I HID THIS FACT BECAUSE OF PEOPLE LIKE THIS.

They'll claim they have ~nostalgia~.

Nostalgia{/c goggles} in DigiAdvs standom shouldn't be a term used to refer to an Adventure fan, or an 02 fan, or a TAICHI FAN OR FAN OF THE ADVENTURE CHOSEN who is showing appreciation towards that and those characters too, until people trash them, people like this making positive works for the Chosen, leave anti-semitic hate comments on their work once they know about your family and the holidays you're trying to recognize.....

They should be used to refer to people like THIS, like these "02 stans" or "Adventure-02-Kizuna" only stans {all while trashing on Meiko and Tri in the meantime} who will blatantly steal your work and reproduce it for their ~anti Tri~ HATE POSTS and mock you and call you "cringe" for confronting them.

But oh it's not just the 02 standom who's been pulling this shit.

It's Adventure stans. It's TAMERS STANS. It's even Frontier stans, even Savers stans, even Xros Wars & Young Hunters stans, even SURVIVE STANS, even stans of all the other entries in the series who have pulled the same kind of shit. FREQUENTLY.

This person actually DID the right thing and removed it, even when I confronted them, even when they BLATANTLY may have even pretended to not even KNOW WHO THE HELL MEIKO WAS (when she's mentioned right there IN THE POST.)

You (general) people who never even fully finished Tri don't know who Meiko is, and yet you'll rb a post bashing a girl called Meiko and not put two and two together...

If this person could remove the gif, the person who stole it can remove it too.

Instead of waxing poetic about ~nostalgia~ for ~the good old days of O.C.s on D.A.~ where they probably believe with their whole chest ~no one would confront you over stealing their things without Permission~ (when WE ALL DID THAT THERE.)

BECAUSE YOU SHOULDN'T STEAL PEOPLE'S WORKS WITHOUT PERMISSION FOR HATE-POSTS EVEN IF WE'RE ON A DIFFERENT SITE.

And then everyone constantly complains about how

"Adventure{s}/02 fan base is dYING" and how they're SO SAD ABOUT IT

all while repeatedly pulling the kind of shit above.

It's sickening. It's sickening, it's gross, this kind of attitude in 02 standom NEEDS TO DIE.

PEOPLE LIKE THAT NEVER RESPECTED OUR WORKS AND FAN CREATIONS TO BEGIN WITH.

[iwadori]

Hiiii!!!! can you do like when you guys are supposed to meet up and they waited for about an hour or so and kept texting you you but you haven't replied so they thought you ditched them and got mad at you and stuff then they decided to go home and while on their way home not too far from their school they found you unconscious body with a large wound on you back and your head bleeding?.

can you pleaseease do tsukishima, yamaguchi, ushijima, bokuto (I'm sorry if that's a lot)

Haikyu Boys when you get hurt Pt 2 (Ushijima,Bokuto

Part One Part Two Part Three

Word count: 2.6K

Genre: angst, fluff

masterlist

Ushijima

You were having the worst week this week,  from battling a cold and your boss making you do all sorts of extra jobs (that were definitely not under your job description.) As easter was swiftly approaching you and Ushijima had your annual plans of going to the local kids community center and helping them with an easter egg hunt. But you don’t think you can manage it this year.

Ushijima gets home from practice with 4 bags just filled with easter eggs ranging from all different sizes, “woah there Toshi, you’ve got enough there too feed all of england” you laugh  

“I don’t think these eggs will be able to sustain England Y/N” he says seriously making you laugh even harder. As you were laughing, you felt another migraine come along making your cringe in pain. “Toshi, I don’t think I can do the easter egg hunt this year?”  

He sits down next to you alarmed that something is wrong, “why what happened Y/N” he asks

“I’ve been feeling terrible all week, and I even have a migraine right now” you say to him thinking he would understand.

“That’s it?” he questions thinking what you said was a joke “I think you can handle a migraine, remember we’re doing this for the kids”

His words were making you feel slightly guilty since maybe you were being over dramatic. “Y/N if it’s really ‘that bad’, i’ll make you some tea so you can feel better,” he says going into the kitchen to start on your tea. You murmur a quiet “thank you” and you end up falling asleep, hoping that by the time you wake up your head stops pounding.

As you wake up, you realise you slept all the way through the night and over to the next day as when you look at your clock it says 12:32 pm. You look at your nightstand and saw that Ushijima wrote you a note saying:  

Y/N I've left out early to set out the easter egg hunt, I’ve made you breakfast so eat up and get prepared for the event which starts at 4pm. Please don’t forget.

Sincerely – Ushijima Wakatoshi.

You chuckle at the fondness of the note, before realising your pain. Your brain felt like it was having a live concert inside that definitely was not going to end soon but you still got up prepared for the day. You didn’t want to let Ushijima or the kids down.  

When you go to the kitchen , you see the cute breakfast that Ushijima made you consisting of all of your favourite foods and with another simple note of him saying ‘ I love you. ‘ Ushijima has always been a lovely boyfriend, treating you like the queen you are always making sure that you were okay. Of course, his bluntness and his lack of social cues was something to get used to but when you did get accustomed to it, it only made you fall in love with him more.

You got ready, feeling even more sick as the piping hot shower that you usual have, did not help as when you were showering you felt heavily faint. However, you persevered since you did not want to let Ushijima down.

You finally were prepared to leave the house, with the community center being on 15 minutes walk away you were leaving out at 3:50pm since you were planning to take your car anyways. When you leave your home, you realise that you forgot your car keys so you dash up the stairs (a bit too quickly) to go and find them. Scrambling through your draws, your head is pounding harder and harder and the more it pounds the quicker your moving making you even more faint. You eventually find your keys and you’re ready to zoom to the community center but your body gave out and you pass out tumbling down the stairs landing at your front door.

Ushijima was waiting outside of the community center waiting for you to arrive it was 4:05pm and he was wondering where you were (knowing that your place was only a 10 minute drive away) he sent you a few texts asking where you were but when you don’t respond Ushijima becomes slightly annoyed, plastering a fake smile on his face and entering the community center, starting the easter egg hunt.

The easter egg hunt came to a close at 8pm and Ushijima assumed that you would’ve showed up some time in the middle of the event, but you obviously didn’t show. After making sure that all the kids left safely Ushijima decided to call and text you more and when you continuously don’t respond and your calls go to voicemail he says ‘Y/N, im really disappointed with you right now. How could you do this to me? You said you would show up, the kids were really upset, how could you be so selfish?’

He walks to your house knocking on the door, but when you don’t immediately answer he knew something must be up now, since you haven’t responded to any of his texts and calls and didn’t show up he figured there was something deeper then you just ditching the event.

He used his key to open the door, surprised when the door hit something. He tried again hitting the ‘object’ that was laying at the door again. He carefully pushes the door to make enough room for him to fit through the gap. When he entered, he was startled at the sight of you, there you lay completely knocked out with a blood stain next to your head. He knelt down next to you and touched your cheek you were extremely cold, he had to get you to a hospital stat. He called an ambulance, panicked. Worrying about how long you’ve been out for since it would have to be atleast more than 4 hours he assumed.

You woke up in a foreign room, with your head slightly stinging. You place your hand on the back of your head and wince, then you remember you need to be at the easter egg hunt so you bolt up ready to move.  

“I don’t think that’s wise for you to do that Y/N” Ushijima says to you  

“Toshi, what happened?” you ask still in pain

“It seems you fell down the stairs and hit your head” after he said that all your memories come flooding back, and you remember rushing to the community centre, looking for your keys, and then falling down the stairs and everything going black.

“I’m sorry Ushi for missing the easter egg hunt, I really tried to get there,” you say with an apologetic look on your face  

“It’s fine Y/N of course you wouldn’t of been able to get there after falling down the stairs” he says “Also, this is proof of why you shouldn’t run down the stairs”

You eventually get discharged with the doctor telling you all you need to do is rest and stay off your feet. Ushijima took the doctor's orders very seriously, becoming your loyal servant and waiting on you hand and foot, tending to your every need. He did also make you were eating healthy and taking all your medicine so you could have the best recovery possible.  

Also, after realising that this could’ve all been avoided if Ushijima didn’t guilt trip you in the first place for having a migraine, he made sure to never ignore or dismiss when you say you are ill or have anything wrong with you even if it’s a migraine, a lost limb or a simple paper cut.

Bokuto  

The Olympics were coming up and Bokuto couldn’t be any more excited than he already was. Everything he’s talked about for the past month he manages to find a way to relate to the Olympics, and as annoying as it got sometimes you were just as excited for it as much as Bokuto was.  

Bokuto was heavily busy with extra practices so you were bored and lonely, since your boyfriend was at practice all the time so you chose to take up a new hobby. You decided to paint, although you weren’t an award-winning painter you still found joy in it. Being Bokuto’s girlfriend you had some slight unwanted attention on you: the usual fans of Bokuto that just followed you to have an extra aspect of him in their life's, or his fangirls that adored him.  

You didn’t mind the fangirls for the most part since majority of them were pretty tamed and did fawn over your relationship. However, there was the minority of fans that did make it known to you that they DID NOT like you at all. When you started posting your paintings, it seems their hate for you amplified since they always found the need to leave an astray of mean comments on your post. But that didn’t mainly bother you since you thought that they only had that energy behind the screen.

The days went by getting closer to the Olympics, with Bokuto always asking you every day “Y/N you are coming to my games, right?” to which you always replied “Of course Kou, I’m coming” which always made him smile.

When the Olympics came, you’ve went to all the games cheering Bokuto and the team on as they were winning round after round. Whilst this was going on, the group of girls that were sending you horrible messages and making mean posts about you weren’t stopping. At first, you didn’t care for them but it seems their posts only gotten worse making comments about your artwork, your face, your body type ect.  

You didn’t want to tell Bokuto as you felt that it would ruin his Olympic momentum and you thought you could handle it all on your own.  

It was nearing to the final game of the Olympics, and Bokuto was ecstatic he made sure that you promised you’d be there claiming that you was his ‘good luck’ charm.’ You were excited to go too, the feeling of watching Bokuto play was exhilarating seeing him fully in his element was great for you to see.

On the last game day, Boktuo was already at the stadium since him and the team had to be there earlier to practice and you planned to meet him there just before the game started at 4:30. You went to a florist before the match getting Bokuto the biggest boquet that you could buy.  

On your way to the stadium you here somebody whistle from behind you, you turn around and see a group of girls waiting behind you smirking. “Hi?” you say more like a question then a statement “do you want something from me?”

Some of them laugh, but the one standing at the front who you mentally lable the ‘main one’ steps closer to you and says “We want you to stay away from Bokuto” you realise that these were the girls sending you hate online for these past weeks.

Before you can even blink, the girls jump you, hitting, kicking and clawing at you. You are in pain, screaming and crying for them to stop and leave you alone. You lay there, letting them beat you up thinking that you’ll probably end up dead out of this. All you can think about is Bokuto, you didn’t get to wish him good luck, or give him your flowers (that you spent a fortune on) or even tell him that you loved him one last time.

You think the girls eventually stopped but you couldn’t tell because your body was throbbing and you hurt all over. You tried to get up still wanting to go to the match but you collapse going out cold.

Bokuto was scanning the crowd over and over for you, hoping to spot you there. But he couldn’t, he was wondering where you were getting sadder and sadder by the second since he really believed you were his good luck charm and he probably wouldn’t be able to win without at least seeing your face once.

They didn’t win. Bokuto knew he wasn’t playing at his best, since all his mind was on was thinking about where you were. You’ve never missed one of his games, so he was incredibly worried. After he accepted his second-place medal, he rushed out the stadium to go to your house but he was stopped by some fangirls ‘I guess signing autographs is the least I can do’ he thinks, the fans were being a bit odd today but he didn’t have time to focus on that as his mind was racing thinking about you and your whereabouts.  

One of his fans did give him an alarmingly big boquet of roses which he appreciated ‘these must of cost a fortune’ he thinks. Although it was a probably a long shot, he decided to ask the fan if he saw someone who looked like *whatever you look like* to maybe see if someone else saw you. Which the fan replied “yeah I saw them with some guy at this restaurant whilst we were going to see you!” they exclaimed.

‘A guy’ he thought ‘that most likely wasn’t you.’ Seeing Bokuto’s confusion, the fan followed up with “I'm pretty sure it was her I mean we all know who Bokuto Koutaro’s girlfriend was.” Bokuto didn’t reply just walking away making sure to thank them for the flowers.  

He was rushing towards your house on foot (since all the taxi’s and ubers were fully booked because of the Olympics) whilst running he stumbles across your passed out body all black and bruised with scratch marks and bleeding all over you. “what happened” he whispered, knowing you obviously weren’t going to respond.  

He picked up your near-dead body, and cradled you in his arms taking you back to the stadium (since he knew that getting an ambulance to come here or running to the hospital would basically be impossible.) When he got back to the stadium, he did get odd looks from strangers but he didn’t care, his only agenda was making sure you were okay.

You woke up, and saw Bokuto pacing the room repeatedly you tried to get his attention by saying his name but your throat was damaged. He eventually notices you and runs to your side, stroking your face softly and giving you a gentle hug making sure not to hurt you.  

“Who did this Y/N?” he asks with worry in his eyes  

You ignore his question and look at the silver medal wrapped around his neck making you sad “I’m sorry I didn’t make it to the match, I tried I really did try” you said with your voice sounding even worse after you said every word.  

“Don’t be silly, I’m just glad that you’re okay babe, I was really worried about you.” he said

The Medic came in and said that you had multiple broken ribs, but beside that you were fine you just needed to rest your throat and let your bruises heal. You eventually told Bokuto that it was some of his fans, he was upset that you hid this from him for so long but he was just glad that he got to you as soon as he did. He managed to play at the next Olympics and you were there fully present, with your even bigger boquet of flowers watching win gold.

Authors Note: I tried to make it as close to your request as possible, but I hope you enjoy as I really do think this is my favourite work so far.... :3 Comments and feedback appreciated.

[princessozera]

MC hates their birthday

Lucifer-Mammon-Levi-Satan. GN MC as always

A/N: I hate to break it up, but I was reaching 10 pages while still needing to write 6 characters- kind wordy for my usual posts.

Not angst, but not really comfort either. Kind of a base level "taking care of MC when they're sick" and it happens to be their birthday??

Warnings: mentions of vomit/illness

"Watch it you stepped on my foot!"

"Beel, stop eating the fruit off the plate."

"Would all of you shut up! You'll wake MC up!" Asmo shushes his brothers as loudly as he dares to, there was no way he was going to let them ruin his surprise breakfast for MC. He'd missed their first birthday in the Devildom, and now he had to make this one extra special to make up for it! It was a miracle he'd found out in time to plan anything at all.

Asmo had been relaxing in MC's room one night when he'd seen someone retweet last year's birthday photos on devitwitter. Asmo had been gushing to MC over how great he looked and recounting stories from that night when it occurred to Asmo that he didn't know MC's birthday. He'd tried asking them, but MC managed to distract him, and then later managed to evade the question at every turn. Asmo asked around and realized none of his brother knew- even Lucifer had thrown away MC's information sheet after choosing them for the exchange program and he couldn't remember what their birthday was. Thankfully, Lord Diavolo had a copy of the student records and they all found out MC birthday was near- within days in fact! They were all surprised that MC never cared to mention it before, but decided to throw together a surprise party for MC at the House of Lamentation, and they'd all give them small personal tokens of appreciation throughout the day to make up for missing last year too- starting with this amazing breakfast in bed!

The brothers had woken up earlier than they usually do (with the exception of Lucifer) to make MC their favorite breakfast, and were now 'sneaking' into MC's room.

"Okay, so on the count of 3 we're going to wake them up by singing happy birthday-" Asmo's instructions were cut off the second he opened the door, the sound of muffled vomiting coming from the bathroom in the corner. Everyone rushes in as one, Mammon and Asmo first to the door, knocking softly.

"MC, hey MC are you okay?" They try the door handle but it's bolted shut, and they didn't want to cause a bigger scene by over reacting and breaking down the door. "C'mon MC, open the door." They all look to their phones as 7 small dings ring out, a new message in the group chat.

"Sick. Can't go to school today."

Lucifer

When MC comes out of the restroom looking worse for wear, Lucifer immediately walks over to MC to check their temperature and he doesn't doubt they're sick. MC's face was paler than normal and they looked seconds away from passing out. He agrees to let them stay home from school, but when he wishes them a happy birthday as he pushes his brothers out, he doesn't miss how MC cringes into their blankets.

On his walk to RAD, Lucifer couldn't help but feel that this was awfully familiar. He made it all the way into the council room before realizing that around this time last year. MC had gotten sick for the very first time in the school year and had to stay home back then too.

This entire situation didn't sit right with him. At this time last year, MC was a welcome part of the house of lamentation, they very well could have had a large birthday party if they'd wanted it. MC had never given hints about their upcoming birthday or seemed upset about it being passed over without celebration. Weren't humans obsessed with keeping track of their age?

Lucifer just couldn't get the image out of his head- the way MC had tried not to grimace and seemed to shut out the brothers' calls for well wishes and a speedy recovery. He decided to use his lunch break to call MC, hoping that they wouldn't be asleep.

He asked how they were, and made a passing comment about how everyone had planned a party for them in the evening, if they were still up for it. MC paused for too long, their voice clearly reluctant when they responded back "Yeah, I'll probably be fine by then. Thanks." Then they hung up without another word.

Whatever was bothering MC, he knew that this would only make it worse, but MC would struggle through it with a smile, if it's what would make everyone else happy.

Just this once, as his gift, he called everyone together in the council room after school and cancelled the party. Lucifer didn't say much more than "a sick person needs time to rest", but by then everyone had come to similar conclusions.

Whatever it was about their birthday, MC didn't like it and didn't want to make a big deal out of it- to the point they get themselves physically ill over it.

Lucifer made sure to stop by MC's room when he got back to the house and told them that the party had been postponed- indefinitely. He made sure their brothers didn't bring up MC's birthday or bothered them too much throughout the rest of the day, and when it was nearing midnight and MC still hadn't gone to bed, he invited them to his room.

For just a second he was tempted to ask, but the tired look in MC's eyes were enough to hurt him too. Instead of talking, Lucifer just gives an off handed comment about wanting company while he worked.

He let MC watch videos on their phone on his bed, and went about his paperwork. At one point, he notices how unfocused MC's stare is, more lost in dark thoughts than the tutorial on their phone. After a moment, Lucifer turns into his demon form and begins preening his wing, acting as if MC wasn't there. He shakes his wings out a little, making a show of the way his feathers shone in the candle light before continuing to stroke and rearrange them, pretending not to hear MC come up behind him.

"Do- do you need some help?"

Lucifer agreed and showed them how he does it, stoking, tugging a little bit here and there to pull out loose feathers. Small repetitive actions, that were perfect to distract, and soon MC was lost in the inky shine of his feathers, mimicking the motions they'd seen him do. Lucifer felt as MC's motions became softer, as if this was as relaxing to them as it was for him, and even when MC seemed to tense again and would pull on a feather or two, Lucifer made no complaint.

MC followed Lucifer back to his desk and continued to play with his feathers as he returned to his work, not even pretending to be helping him preen at this point.

Lucifer didn't feel MC's movement slow until they stop, and something pressed into his back. He catches a look in the mirror- MC had fallen asleep on him. He makes an exception for tonight, picking them up and tucking them into his bed, looking mostly back to normal. Even as he tries to walk away, MC grabs onto Lucifer's hand for a moment, holding it close. Lucifer stays there until MC lets go on their own, before pushing their hair back and giving them a chaste kiss on the forehead.

"Goodnight love, I hope your next year will be better. Please remember I'm here for you."

Mammon

"MC is so smart; this is such a great plan to skip school! I just gotta convince Lucifer to let me stay back to 'take care of them' and we can spend the day together. There's probably a few day bars we could go to for lunch and wow, MC is a really good actor! I didn't know you could sweat like that on command-"

*MC starts hacking out a lung*

"Oh they're actually sick."

Mammon's bummed out that his favorite human is feeling so shitty, and on a day when he had so much cool stuff planned too!

He still tries, and fails, to convince Lucifer to stay home, so he resorts to texting MC a thousand times instead. Maybe if he could get MC hyped enough about the stuff he had planned, they'd get better faster!

He's sent MC 50 texts before the first class is over, and 20 more before he starts to notice how much longer its taking MC to respond, especially when he specifically mentions it being their birthday. Between texts, he starts remembering the few times he tried asking MC about their birthday, and how quickly they'd managed to change the subject every single time.

He decides to let MC rest, and by the time he gets to the emergency meeting in the council room, he knows what Lucifer is going to say.

As bummed as he was, Mammon was more worried about MC still being sick. If it really was their own birthday that got them this upset, he'd do everything in his power to distract them.

He brought over MC's favorite movies and some popcorn, whining about how he'd gotten his phone taken away during class even though he was a demon lord. He focused more on MC than the movie, starting up conversation again when he noticed their attention stray or mood dip.

He'd carry the entire conversation if he needed to, but did push back a little if MC said they wanted to be alone, promising to be quiet as long as he can stay in their room.

Mammon would have to fight the urge to ask MC why they were sad, but when MC would hold out their hand, he never hesitated to grab it and give it a reassuring squeeze. No matter how much it hurt his heart, he pretended not to hear when they started quietly crying, knowing that it might end with him getting kicked out. There would be a day to talk about it, but for now there was no way this best man was going to leave his human alone.

When MC finally dozed off, Mammon pulled his gift out of his back pocket. A sleek black box that held 2 silver rings, part of a set that now they each had one half of, Mammon's engraved with MC's initials and vice versa. He tucks the box underneath MC's pillow before pulling their blanket up, relieved to see the smallest smile on MC's face as he gave their hand one more squeeze before he left.

Leviathan

Even with seeing MC sick in the morning, and hearing Lucifer cancel the party in the afternoon, he couldn't help but wonder if this was an elaborate set up by MC to avoid spending their birthday with him everyone.

It wouldn't be until Mammon came to his room, asking for help to distract MC that he would understand the true cause behind MC's illness.

Distractions? Leviathan is the KING of distractions. Before even inviting MC over, he tidied up his room a bit, even upping the temperature a bit so they wouldn't get chills.

While Mammon was out getting snacks, they played immersive videogames- no better way to be distracted than being on a different plane of reality, right? But Levi realizes his mistake an hour later, when MC is clearly starting to lag behind and he finally notices how exhausted they look. A fantasy RPG boss raid was a great distraction, but maybe not for someone who was hurling up their guts less than 3 hours ago.

They take a breather outside of the game and although MC looks significantly better than the morning, Levi notices just how weary they were. Like they could be carrying the weight of the world.

"You know, even Henry relies on his companions from time to time. That's how you get great plot and character development. I'm your companion, right MC? So you can count on me for anything, and you'd better not forget it!" Levi isn't sure how well his message came across, but when MC takes his arm and rubs their thumb over the back of his hand, he knows that they're comforted. He takes the moment to show them his gift, concert tickets for a band they've been listening to for the past few months.

"You'd better get better soon normie! Or else I'll take someone else to the concert!"

"Yes, I'm sure Asmo would have a great time at the concert with you. He'd get you invited to so many after parties and clubs-"

"Take your time getting better MC, I'll be your loyal nurse until you're in perfect condition again."

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

Satan

For just a second, Satan wondered if MC was trying to get out of school, but quickly realized how stupid he sounded. There was no way MC found out about this surprise before hand, so they couldn't have just been waiting for the brothers to come in. Any lingering doubt disappeared after quickly running his hand across their forehead to wipe off the sweat.

They were badly ill, and on their birthday no less. What a pity. Well, the party could always be rescheduled if they weren't feeling better by night and Satan decided to give them his present later.

He hadn't thought too much about the timing of everything, but when Lucifer disappeared at lunch and Mammon was more subdued than normal, he started to pick up that something was amiss.

Unlike his brothers, Satan decided to give MC all the space they needed, no matter how badly he wanted to visit them. Instead, he had his own way of checking in. He sent Beel and Belphie in with water and light snacks when he found out MC hadn't eaten all day. He'd made sure all of the beauty treatment supplies Asmo went in with had almost no scent, as to avoid giving MC a headache and would shoot Mammon messages when he was starting to get too noisy- MC would probably let him annoy them until their breaking point otherwise. Satan placed cat treats on MC's windowsill so they could still see the garden cats as they hopped up for the food.

For the briefest, wildest moment, he considered reciting poetry outside of their window, but decided against it when he heard Mammon's rambunctious laughter in MC's room. Instead, he tried his hand at origami again, a craft he'd learned with MC one afternoon spent in the cat cafe. Cranes, stars, pigs; every animal he had learned that day, and whichever ones he managed to make from a quick internet search, a small zoo now sitting next to MC's window.

It was finally night when Mammon left MC's room and Satan tried to check in on them, only to find them soundly asleep. They looked well again, much to Satan's relief, and he felt the tip of his ears burn just a bit to see MC holding one of the origami animals he'd left on their windowsill.

He sets down his gift, the exact stationary and wax set he'd seen MC eye for almost a year- always just too expensive to justify buying on a whim.

Satan adds the newest addition to his gift on top; all of the homework for the next week, in an almost perfect match of their handwriting. He knew there wasn't much he could do for MC if they didn't want to talk about it, but he could do this much for someone who came to mean so much to him.