#i didn't know that there apparently was a huge demand for this

[endlessfuckup]

we are getting so fuckin spoiled this year

[evilminji]

Okay, but... now I'm wondering >.>

@the-witchhunter We talked about Danny being Morningstar's feral, probably engineering oils and ectoplasmic goo covered, mad scientist/himbo hybrid (attack) purse dog. His special lil guy.

But!

I seek your Knowledge(TM).

From second hand accounts? He seems to HATE the hypocrisy. The blaming HIM for humanity's own choices. The rat race and endless song n dance of "Righteous Good VS. Cartoonish Evil". Because it let's humanity paint themselves the helpless victims. Because it's all surface level. Because it is not so easy to escape the ugliness of your Sins, yet they keep trying to scapegoat him.

Fuck um.

He was tired of it.

But? He still has CONSIDERABLE POWER. It's probably written down. And the Ring Of Rage? Is proooobably not the loveliest of artifacts? I imagine, like the Crown, it's NOT leaving Danny alone. One of those "we don't CARE if there is no throne left to sit upon, you WILL wear us, as King" sort of systems.

It genuinely would not and DOES NOT matter, if not a single soul in all the Zone bows to him. Did he defeat the previous holder of their Right To Rulership? Yes or No.

If No, fuck off.

If Yes, new monarch.

Is it hurting him? Not the rings problem. Nor the Crown's. Heavy is the weight, etc etc. But! DANNY would certainly care. He is... is ANGRY all the time now. Has no idea who would even MAKE this bullshit ring. Why JUST Rage? Yeah, it makes ghosts stronger, but at what COST?

He can't even get rid of it!

......by himself.

Luckily, he's still clear headed enough to know that he's NOT in this by himself. And it's amazing what "mom, dad, this ring is trying to drive me insane. Help me" in a terrified and tearful voice, can brush over. No one threatens their baby and all that.

It would honestly be hilarious, seeing the extended Fenton clan decend like LOCUSTS on Pariahs Keep, searching for clues, terrifying the local ghosts, if... if he wasn't so tired.

God he's so tired.

It's Aunt Alecia who... "politely encourages" a passing scholar to lend them the book they need. Took the poor sucker right out of the sky. Guy never stood a chance. RIP.

He learns he has to head..... over? Like... 27 that-ish way, then up. Huh. 27 WHAT?

Realities, apparently. He's in the wrong bundle. Branch? Neighborhood? Eh. Clan Fenton rolls back out, he packs his bags, and hilariously enough? Goes off to the devils night club. Hopes he likes rings. Or hates them.

Thankfully, being "king" means the Zone? Kinda... humors him? Like... it still has RULES(tm). He can... can FEEL that now. But it's willing to bend some for him, if he asks. And anything NOT against the rules? If it's in the right mood? He need only ask. It's weird. Being suddenly so powerful, yet NOT, at the same time.

Cause none of it's his.

All he has is the Zone's attention. The ability to ask pretty please. If you don't mind. And then? The highways between... ALL will just? Shift and change for him. He can see how it went to Pariah's head. The Zone is pretty agreeable. Is by nature Amoral, cause it's not a Being, it's... well, it's the Zone.

And everyone wants him to ask things. Do things. Demand this or that. Use this power.

Maybe he doesn't WANT too! Maybe he didn't WANT to be king! Doesn't he have the right to say NO? To refuse? Why do they think he OWES them service? An eternity of politics and people trying to kill him, for something he never wanted in the FIRST PLACE.

He's so tired.

The nightclub's pretty cool.

So he comes to ask, politely of course, cause the guy's probably busy, if Morningstar could... dunno, fix or destroy it? Want a ring, maybe? Also he heard you MADE the stars. Huge fan of all of that. Can I ask about the process? Or are you in the middle of something?

And? Lucifer? Turns around, from where he's Leaning Seductive Yet Elegantly(tm) to see... scrawny. Tiny corpse child. No... half? Corpse? Alive. Dying. Alive yet dying. Huh. Well, that is different. And here he didn't think he'd get see anything NEW. You, child, are NOT a zombie. What are you?

Halfa.

I have no idea what that is. What do you want?

He gets shown the ugliest, crudest, peice of shit ring imaginable. A genuine foul little curse. Really stinks up the place. He destroys it, obviously. This club has STANDARDS. Hope that wasn't important?

Kid just smiles the biggest fangy lil grin. No. No it was not.

Obvious, lie, but cute lil teeth. He'll allow it.

He gets dragged into talking about the stars. And talking. And talking. Mostly bragging and explaining. Kid hangs off his every word. Follows him around as he makes his rounds. Asks good questions. Completely focused, dispite the booze and barely dressed dancing all around him.

Lucifer can't help notice the crown.

Lovely little thing. Space ice and star dust, glittering like jewels and light catching the mist. If he remembers right... that one iiiiiis..... not Limbo, it's.... Zone! That crown is the Zone, it changes to suit the wearer. He recognizes the vibe. Awfully young, aren't you?

And.... it all burst forth. He didn't even need to press. Use persuasive words and honeyed tones. Like an inflamed, festering wound. The merest brush is enough to spill everything.

Negligence, greed, blood lust. Bigotry and xenophobia. A tyrants endless quest for power. Ah, humans. They truly don't change do they? Realities away, dead or alive. Now they're harrasing a child. He honestly looks miserable. Whereas just a moment before, listening to Lucifer talk about his work on the stars, his soul practically GLOWED with light. A tiny little star unto himself.

.......maybe it's the big ol "I'm you BIGGEST FAN" eyes. The sad wet cat aura. Perhaps the scrawny "could snap you like a twig" teenager, all elbows and knees. The fact he is, in fact, NOT human; for all that he once was. But?? The kid? Is... not terrible company.

He'd even go so far as to say? It's like having a pet intern.

He can sleep on the couch.

Tell you what, you stay here? I'll keep taking about stars and YOU can do the chores I don't feel like doing. I'll take care of you and all that.

And Danny? Honestly was sold at the word "stars" but? This sounds like a phenomenally terrible idea... and he has yet to meet one of THOSE he hasn't made out sloppy still with, so deal! But as a minor, that DOES make you his new gaurdian for the next four-ish years. He's legally obligated to finish schooling.

Ah.

.....well shit.

(Just? Local stressed 14-15 year old Ghost King does RESPONSIBILE thing and finds Adultier Adult. With more qualified Adult powers. Unfortunately for everyone, the adult is Lucifer Morningstar, night club owner. Even MORE Unfortunately, said ghost kind has pack bonded with the Nice Star Man, who saved him from the Bad Ring, and effectively offered to let him crash on his swanky couchs.

Now Morningstar has to? Somewhat VAGUELY pretend he gives a shit local schooling system, as he puts his charge INTO it. Actively giving waking terrors to the magical community. What evil plot is afoot? Where did he get this tiny minor death god? What is his end goal FOR said child?

No one knooooows~

But Lucifer is just doing this cause he's a Being of his word. He hates the tedious minor chores he'll be foisting off onto Danny. And? Most importantly? Look at that face. *shoujo sparkly eyes of Star Sempai Noticed Me!* it's like having a golden retriever puppy. Ffs he has STANDARDS.)

(It'd be hilarious to watch the hostile 5th dimensional chess DC characters have going on in the background, all while? Danny is like? Man! Isn't this universe GREAT? Everyone here is so CHILL! And nice to me! I'm so relaxed now! Finally, I can finish my education in peace.)

@hdgnj @hypewinter @lolottes @babbling-babull @nerdpoe @mutable-manifestation

[odinsblog]

“I'm observing such a huge gap between different social groups that I didn't even realize were different. I, you know, most of my friends are in the media. A lot of my journalist friends are just much better informed.

A lot of them have had experience reporting in Israel, Palestine, and are quite critical of both Israel and the antisemitism narrative. Then, like, my wife is a lawyer, and her circle is a little bit different, right? It's not dominated by media people, like people in the law or in other professions seem to be broadly much more kind of taken by the sense of profound insecurity and shift in the American Jewish experience.

I think we sort of see different things, for example, when we watch the hearings in Congress on antisemitism on campus.

The university presidents, of which there have now been two hearings, one with three presidents, one with the president of Colombia, and there will be many, many more. And what I see is a right-wing campaign against higher education that is weaponizing antisemitism as an idea, right? Not antisemitism as a practice.

And what they see is, with the possible exception of the president of Colombia, is people who represent institutions or lead institutions that they feel an affinity with, often institutions that they graduated from, who are not standing up for them. Which I find that viewing of those hearings somewhat shocking because people seem to be turning off their critical faculties. But people, intelligent, educated, politically astute people don't turn off their critical faculties unless they're scared.

So I think the underlying fear is real. But just because it's real, it doesn't mean it's justified.

I think a factual account of what we're seeing on campuses now is that this generation of Americans is far more critical of Israel than their parents' generation. And this is true of both Jews and non-Jews. I think that they look at information available to them and they see a 57-year brutal illegal occupation.

And they don't understand how it's possible that their parents and the politicians that their parents support and the politicians who come and give commencement addresses and all that other stuff that I can say about politicians, how it is possible that these people support that state? I think that is an entirely understandable view. It also reflects a huge generation gap.

I think some of those young people are assholes, and some of them are antisemites. I think it's a small minority of the protesters, and it is not actually part of the critique. The protesters' demands, the protesters' organizing beliefs are not in any way or shape antisemitic.

And then there are Jewish students who were brought up Zionist, who were brought up to identify strongly with the state of Israel, who are, I think, a little bit like my cousin in the settlements again. They see these protests, and even probably the participation of their fellow Jewish students in these protests, as threatening their core identity, as threatening their ties to their families, as threatening everything that they were taught for the first 18 years of their lives is true. And of course they feel rattled, of course they feel unsettled, of course they feel threatened.

Like, wouldn't you, if you felt that everything you had believed in was being turned on its head, and if you, by apparently reasonable people? And so you have a couple of options. One is to look at what the protestors are saying, to engage with the facts, to engage with the critique of everything you've ever believed.

There was a terrific, George Curran's podcast a couple of weeks ago with three Columbia students, one of whom sort of narrated that kind of trajectory, getting to university and finding this stuff out and having their mind blown. That's a very difficult path, and it's a very difficult path, especially if you are, say, a first year student in 23, 24.

And then there's the easier path of staying integrated in your community, in your beliefs, and saying this is antisemitic.

Because unfortunately the things that the protestors are talking about are so horrible that you can't say, okay, let's agree to disagree, that you can't hold both of these things in your mind at the same time.

You can't continue to hold your family's uncritical, long-standing support of Israel, and an understanding of what is happening in Gaza and the occupation that has preceded the war in Gaza.

So yeah, of course they feel rattled. That doesn't mean that they're being surrounded by antisemitism.”

—Masha Gessen, the descendant of Holocaust survivors, discusses campus protests (part 3 of 3)

[cressidagrey]

You are the best thing that's ever been mine - Part 6

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Ariel Cane (Original Character)

Summary: Sao Paulo 2024. The Dutchman delivered a defining drive…but maybe there is a relationship that could also use some defining. 

Warnings: Jos Verstappen, angst, crying, mention of pregnancy, mention of sex and sexual acts, physical confrontation

Author Notes: Hi, hey, hello! Apparently I write F1 Fanfiction now?! Also this is the first time I am trying a social media au so my Canva Skills were put to the test. (Disclaimer: I kinda put legibility over authencity, so twitter doesn't look like twitter and messages looks like...something) Also huge thanks to @onebigfangirlworld and @leodette for holding my hand with this 😘)

Ariel couldn’t remember a time when she had been that content.

The bed was warm and comfortable and the duvet was fluffy and Max was holding her… Max's arms were wrapped securely around her, his body pressed against hers in a warm and comfortable tangle of limbs.

He nuzzled his face into her hair, inhaling her scent, his breath warm against her neck. He was still sleeping, but even in his sleep he was holding her. 

Ariel could spend hours like that.

Sadly her bladder had other plans.

Reluctantly, Ariel carefully extracted herself from Max, trying not to wake him. She slid out of bed slowly, trying not to wake him. 

The hardwood floor was cold under her bare feet as she padded quietly into the bathroom, her mind still slightly clouded with a bit of grogginess. By the time she was finished in the bathroom, she was wide awake.

IT was still early enough in the morning that there was no need for her to wake up Max, so she took her phone and quietly left the bedroom in favour of the living room and hopefully something to drink.That...and a call to her sister.

She curled up on the sofa, her phone in hand, dialing her sisters number. 

Emma picked up, immediately. "You totally left me hanging there!" Emma greeted her complaining. "I am so happy for you, Ari!"

Ariel couldn't help but giggle softly at her sister's teasing tone. "I know, I'm sorry," Ariel replied, a hint of sheepishness in her voice. "But I promise I'll tell you all the details later, I just..." She trailed off, her thoughts still swirling in her head.

"Is later now?!" Emma demanded. "You can't just tell me that you put the guy that has been madly in love with you for 5 years out of his misery and expect me to be normal about it!"

Ariel laughed softly, shaking her head at her sister's dramatic tone.

"Okay, okay, calm down," she said, trying to placate Emma's enthusiasm.

Ariel couldn't help but smile at her sister's excitement, knowing that Emma had always hoped for this to happen between her and Max."I just needed some time to process everything," Ariel explained, leaning back aganst the sofa.

"It's all still very..." Ariel searched for the right word, trying to describe the whirlwind of emotions she was feeling. "It's just a lot to process, you know? We finally took that step, and it's...I don't even know how to describe it," she continued, her voice quieter now.

It was a lot. 

"It's exhilarating, and terrifying, and everything in between. I just...I can't believe it's really happening, you know? That after all this time,  it's finally real," she said weakly. "I didn't think...I didn't think it would ever happen to me. And I don't think that I deserve..."

"Stop," Emma cut her off. "You do deserve this, Ariel. You deserve all the good things the world has to offer."Ariel closed her eyes for a moment, letting Emma's words sink in.

"I just... I'm afraid," she confessed quietly. "What if it all falls apart? What if it's too good to be true?"

Emma sighed. "There are never guarantees," her sister told her seriously. "We know that better than most. We lost Mom...and then 5 years later we lost Dad. And it sucked, Ariel. That we only had such a short time with our parents. But...this is Max we're talking about. He adores you, he's literally obsessed with you. I don't think you need to worry about him up and leaving anytime soon.

Emma was right, of course. Max was loyal and steadfast. He had proven that countless times over the past five years.

She let out a small sigh, feeling some of the tension in her shoulders ease.

"You're right," she admitted. "I'm just...I'm scared, I guess. Scared of getting hurt, scared of being too happy."

"It's okay to be scared, Ari," Emma said, her voice gentle and reassuring. "But you can't let it hold you back. You and Max...you're good for each other. You've danced around it for a long time, but you both knew it. And now..." Emma paused significantly. "You finally took the leap. It's time to enjoy it."

Ariel knew Emma was right. 

She took a deep breath. "You're right," she repeated. "I need to stop worrying and just...enjoy this. Enjoy him.”

"Yeah, shouldn't you still be in bed celebrating his amazing, groundbreaking win?" Ariel teased her.

Ariel let out a soft laugh, feeling heat rising in her cheeks.

"You're terrible," she teased back, a smirk playing at the corners of her lips.

But inside, her stomach fluttered just thinking about Max.

"He's still sleeping," she admitted, her voice a whisper. "Last night...last night was a lot."She shifted a little, feeling her heart skip at the memories of Max's touch, the way his body had felt pressed against her, the taste of his kisses.

Emma harrumphed. "I still want to kill his father," her sister said drily. "How are you? Really, Ariel."

"Nausea is gone. I got a bruise on my cheek but that's it," Ariel reported honestly. "I'm doing okay," she assured her sister. "Yesterday was just... intense."

Probably the understatement of the century.

Ariel reached up, gently tracing the small bruise on her cheekbone. It ached a bit, swollen and hot to the touch. 

"But Max..." Ariel paused, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Max...was there. He makes everything better.”

Emma harrumphed. "Let him take care of you," her sister told her pointedly. "I need to get ready for work right about now, but we'll talk more soon."

"We'll be in Milton Keynes next week," Ariel promised her. There were three weeks between Brazil and Las Vegas. They would fly back to Monaco later that day and would be to Milton Keynes at least once during the next 3 weeks. 

"BRING HIM TO DINNER!" her sister said as farewell, making her laugh.

Ariel knew that this wasn’t a simple inner invitation, but more an invitation to be the one cooking said dinner.

"Love you," she told Emma softly in response.

"Love you too, Sis!" Emma sing-songed, as she hung up on her. 

Talking to her sister had done her good. It always did. She felt a bit lighter, more grounded.

And still, her thoughts were swirling. 

Of course, they were. 

They were right in the middle of a complete and utter mess. 

Between the media and betting pools about their romantic relationship…and the fact that the two of them han’t even had a proper talk with just the two of them…it was a lot. 

But underneath it all, she felt safe. Safe knowing that Max would be by her side.

And then her stomach growled and Ariel decided that room service was definitely in her future.

"Breakfast it is," she said to herself. 

What she hadn't expected was for the hotel room to end up looking like a flower shop after breakfast had arrived. Hotel Staff had not only brought breakfast...but also not one, not two, but four bouquets of flowers. With her name on them.

Ariel couldn't help but stare at them with no small amount of trepidation.

Ariel could deal with the bouquet of pink carnation, which were from Christian in the name of Red Bull...she also could deal with a wildly colourful bouquet from Franco Colapinto of all people...another bouquet of Amaryllis from some of the mechanics from Max's garage, which was adorable...but she couldn't deal with a massive bouquet of blood red roses.

They were beautiful. Of course, they were.

And they also made her want to throw up. Again. 

Red roses would always remind her of one thing. And one thing only.

Her mother's funeral.

Ariel let out a shaky breath. Memories flooded her mind, each image more vivid than the last.

It was deeply engrained into her brain. Even 15 years later. She still remembered all of it.  The sharp, sweet fragrance of the roses, the deep crimson of the petals, the stark white of the casket...

She remembered. The mournful sobs of the guests. The tears streaming down Ariel's own face...the tears streaming down Emma's face...Percy, who had disappeared off to university as soon as he could afterwards...Their father who had never been the same...

Their father had died 5 years later. Also Cancer. Granted, a different kind...not the breast cancer that had killed her mother...but...but Ariel still thought that it hadn't been the cancer that had killed him. It had been his broken heart.

He hadn’t put up a fight anymore. Not after her death. He had never been quite the same after. 

Ariel closed her eyes, trying to push the memories back into the dark corners of her mind. She had gotten quite good at that. But sometimes they would catch her unaware, like now.

Slowly, she took the card from the bouquet. 

Max knew. Max knew about her hatred for red roses. She had told him once how every time she even smelled them, she wanted to throw up. Why would he...Why would he...

Her fingers trembled slightly as she unfolded the card, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. 

Why woul he do that?

 Why would Max send her red roses? He knew what they meant to her. He knew how much she despised them.

He knew her better than that. 

Or at least she had though that he did. 

She couldn’t help the hurt that welled up inside her.

Ariel took a deep, shaky breath before opening the card. The card wasn't handwritten but printed. 

And there was a poem in there.

A poem. 

In all the years that she had known Max, poetry was not his forte. Actually there wasn’t many things that probably interested him less than poetry. 

The fact that the card wasn't handwritten only added to her frustration. She'd much rather have Max's messy cursive, full of his familiar little quirks, than this impersonal thing.

She began reading the poem, the words printed in stark black letters, stark against the white cardstock. She tried to find something, anything in the words that screamed 'Max'. But found nothing.

"Ariel?" His voice was suddenly behind her. "Why does our hotel room look like a flower shop?" She whirled around, meeting his gaze with a mixture of irritation and confusion.

"Did you buy these for me?" Ariel asked him, demanded from Max.

Max stared at her, blonde hair messy, blue eyes still clouded with sleep. 

“What?” he asked her, but then he saw the red roses and his face cleared immediately coming awake.

"No. Ariel, I would never." The clarity in his voice was a balm to the very heart of her. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe that he wouldn't do this to her.

But the roses were there. Right in front of them. They were undeniable proof.

"You wouldn't write me terrible poetry either, right?" she asked with a shaky voice.

"Schatje, you know me. I am not a guy for poetry," Max assured her, already reaching out for her and as he enveloped her in his arms.

He was warm and he was safe, and he smelled like Max. 

"Then who would do this?" Ariel choked out. 

"I don't know," Max admitted softly, as he pressed a kiss to her forehead.  "But I promise you, I didn't do this. I know how much you hate them." His voice was earnest as he said that. 

Ariel looked at him, searching his face for any sign of deceit. But there was nothing but honesty. The way his eyes held her gaze, the gentle firmness in his voice. It all convinced her.

She leaned into his embrace, her shoulders slumping. 

"Then who did?" she asked, her voice soft, almost resigned. Max held her closer, his arms around her. His expression was a mix of anger and concern.

He looked over at the flowers again, his jaw clenching slightly.

"I don't know," he admitted, his voice low. "But I will find out."

He gently moved his hands to frame her face, tilting her chin up so she was looking at him. "But right now, I'd rather focus on you. Are you okay?" he asked her. 

Ariel let herself lean into his touch. She took a moment to collect her thoughts. 

"I...yes," she finally mumbled. "I'm okay. Just..." She trailed off, looking at the roses once more. The sight of them still made her skin crawl.

She swallowed, her eyes burning with tears. "I hate them," Ariel said softly, her voice almost a whisper.

"I know," Max murmured, one broad hand gently rubbing over her back. He pulled her even closer, if that was even possible. 

"We'll get rid of them," Max promised, his voice a soft rumble against her ear. "We'll get rid of them, and we'll find out who sent them."

“They were her favourite you know,” she said weakly. “My mom’s,” Ariel clarified. “Dad said they matched her hair…so he bought them for her on their first date.”

Max ran a hand gently through her hair, caressing the soft strands. "Your mother must have had beautiful hair," he said softly, a small smile playing on his lips. "Just like you."

They had all inherited her mother’s bright ginger hair…all three of them. Percy, Ariel and Emma. 

Max pause for a moment, his eyes still on the roses, a frown forming on his brow."Schatje," he said softly, "We'll figure this out. We'll find out who sent these. And we'll make sure it never happens again."

“But who would pretend to be you to send me two dozen red roses? And a horrible poem,“ Ariel asked. This didn’t…

“Oh I have some ideas," Max said darkly. He reached out to take the card from her, snorting as he read the poem.

Ariel watched as Max read the card, her heart in her throat.

His reaction was not what she expected. He wasn't enraged or disgusted like she had been. He snorted in derision at the cheesy words on the card.

"This is definitely not me," he said, a hint of wry humour lighting up his eyes."Roses are red, violets are blue, I hate poetry, but I am into you?" he read aloud. “I mean it’s true, but I would hope I would come up with something better to say than that…”

Ariel couldn't help it. Despite everything, she let out a soft snort of laughter.

The poetry was so bad, so cringe-worthy, that it was almost funny.

"Seriously?" she said, her lips curling up in a reluctant smile. "Who could come up with something so...so..."

"Terrible?" Max supplied, his own lips twitching in amusement."I think I know the person that would be idiotic enough to do something like that. The same person that decided that having a whole betting pool on us was also absolutely alright," Max said drily. "Also there is a spelling mistakes in violets, so how high do you think are the chances that this was Lando?"

Ariel's eyes widened as the realisation set in.

Of course. It was so obvious.

"He's never going to get Christmas cookies ever again," she seethed. 

Lando. It had to be Lando.

He had been involved in the whole 'betting pool' fiasco. And now he had the gall to send her roses, and attempt a very bad, very cringey poem. 

He was getting more than just a 'stern talking to', she thought. He was getting an earful.

"No more cookies for Lando," she hissed, her anger beginning to build. 

Max chuckled as he watched her, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"You think this is alright?" she snapped at him, staring at him.

"No," Max said drily. "To be honest, I am pretty pissed off about the fact that all of them thought that betting on our private life was a fun past time." 

He was right. The betting pool had been utterly disrespectful and intrusive.

"They had no right," she said quietly. "It's our lives, not some spectator sport." She looked at the flowers again, her annoyance returning momentarily. But then she shook her head and sighed.

"I can't believe Lando would do something like this," she muttered. "I mean, the guy is a menace on track, but off track he's usually just a big teddy bear."

"He definitely knows better," Max pointed out, a slight grimace on his face. "This crosses a line."

"Yeah," Ariel agreed, the anger slowly ebbing away again.

She glanced at Max, her expression a mix of frustration and resignation.

"I know it's just Lando being his usual chaotic self, but..." she paused, struggling to find the words. "But it still hurts. These flowers, this poem. I don't like to be...manipulated like that," she said weakly.

"I get it," Max said softly, pulling her into a comforting embrace. He held her close, his hand rubbing gentle circles on her back. "I promise, I'll have a word with Lando," he said, a note of steel in his voice. 

He would. She knew he would. 

She trusted Max to handle Lando.  

A part of her, though, wanted to give Lando a piece of her mind. But right now, in the safety of Max's arms, she felt exhausted.

She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. Her voice was quieter as she spoke.

"Don't go too hard on him," she murmured, a hint of reluctance in her voice. 

"Don't worry," he reassured her. "I won't go too hard on him. But he needs to understand that this is not okay. We are not some side show for his entertainment. Or for anybody’s else’s for that matter."

He let out a sigh and pulled her closer against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat calming her. "We're together because we want to be. Not because people think they can place bets on our relationship like it's a race."

"I know," she said quietly, her eyes slowly drifting shut as exhaustion started to take over.

She snuggled closer against him, her head coming to rest against his chest. The steady thump of his heart was soothing, the rhythm like a lullaby designed to soothe her frayed nerves."We should actually eat the breakfast I ordered," she muttered.

Max chuckled as Ariel's stomach made an impatient noise.

"Yeah," he said, a hint of amusement on his face. "I forgot we were supposed to eat breakfast and instead we're discussing the latest antics of Lando Norris."

He gave her a light squeeze before reluctantly letting her go."Why don't you sit down. I'll get our food?"

[dovabunny]

GhostSoap AU - Replaced

Cw: angst

They'd been a (secret) thing for almost a year now. Soap was smitten, but respected Ghost's boundaries to keep it private.

But over all these months, Ghost never said he loved him too. He never makes future plans with Soap either.

He keeps turning down invites to go on leave together or meet his family,l. When they're out on missions will always elect share a room with Price over him.

Soap starts to feel like less of a secret lover and more like... Ghost's dirty little secret.

Like he's just being used.

(Read rest below)

It all blows up one night.

The gang had been at a local bar. Some flooze had apparently been making eyes at Ghost and Gaz noticed. Thinking he's being a good friend and wingman, he introduced the two.

Soap had to sit and watch Ghost talk to her at the bar for 20minutes.

Everytime she touched his arm or bought him a drink he wanted to rip her off him.

But what hurt more was that Ghost didn't immediately turn her down, instead entertaining her attention for a drink or two. He didn't tell Gaz he wasn't interested.

Soap was just a spectator.

"So? Get her number?" Gaz eagerly asked when Ghost returned.

"Nah. Not my type. Too chatty."

Gaz rolled his eyes. "Picky bitch. She was pretty. And if you're not into chatty why do you keep him around?" He playfully winked at Soap.

It was a joke. Didn't mean it didn't hurt.

Not when Ghost didn't even reply.

Soap announced he's leaving early. Ghost followed and caught up to him. The cold air did nothing to ease the burning hurt.

"You coming over to mine tonight, Johnny? I doubt they'll be back till after midnight."

Soap grit his teeth and kept walking. "Dunno. Maybe you should go ask your redhead slag."

Ghost glared, voice cold. "That's uncalled for, Johnny. She was just being friendly."

"Friendly, huh? Too bad she's chatty. Apparently that's huge turn off for you."

Ghost grabbed his arm and stopped him. His eyes and tone incredulous. "That's what this hissy fit is about? You're jealous and touchy over that comment? I thought you'd be happy I didn't take her number."

"I would've been happy if you didn't entertain her flirting at all!"

Ghost's eyes turned hard. "And what gives you the right to dictate who I talk to?"

Soap stared for a moment. It hurt. It fucking hurts but he needed to know.

"What am I to you, Simon?"

Ghost was quiet.

"A fling? A partner? A lover? A fucking sex toy? What am I to you!?"

Months of insecurities were bubbling up. The alcohol that loosened his tongue didn't help either as he yelled.

"Don't raise your voice to me, Sargent. I'm still your commanding officer." Ghost said in a tone reserved for intimidating interrogations and reckless recruits.

"...that's it? You're my CO and I'm your Sargent? That's- that's all it is for you?" Soap hated how his voice trembled.

"I didn't make any promises, Soap." (Soap. Not Johnny.) "You have no right to make demands of what I may and may not do, and I won't be chained down!"

"I don't want to chain you down! I just wa-"

"Sounds like you do. Bloody hell, if you didn't want to fuck anymore - fine. There's no need for the tears and the drama, Sargent."

It was only then that Soap realized he was crying.

Ghost cursed and kept walking without him.

Soap feels like he's been punched in the chest, a gaping void left where his heart and lungs should be.

Apparently all the secret kisses Ghost stole, how he held his hand when no one was looking, the way he held him when they were alone were all just what? Drama? In his head?

Soap spends the night sobbing his heart out off base in an empty parking lot with a bottle of whiskey in his hand.

By morning he told himself there's no use crying over spilled milk.

But it wasn't that simple. For either of them. It was the start of the end.

[misanthropiccatboy]

"this website hates AI so much it's moved on to glorifying one of the tasks it hates the most in the world and arguably one of the most banal and irritating things about modern life. writing paint by numbers emails so human beings can spend their limited time in life doing something meaningful seems like something robots SHOULD be doing!"

I saw this coming like two years ago when there was a long post going around about how chatGPT has academics no longer putting their hearts, soul and passion into grant proposals. You know, that famously non-bullshit thing that academics definitely didn't consider a huge waste of time before, nothing they used to be more passionate about than begging for funding! (I reblogged the post at the time to complain about it but it's funny/frustrating that apparently the spirit of it has gone mainstream). Do people know they don't have to go bat for the deep meaning of bullshit tasks when pointing out drawbacks of AI?

yeah like... I actually think that using AI for the banal nonsense people are forced to waste their time on is reasonable! people ask "CAN you write a professional email on your own" without asking "SHOULD you waste your time on professional emails"

and given that a lot of busywork in the modern age is companies demanding needless time and labor, using chatGPT for it makes sense

[fanficwriterlover]

My Choice Our Consequence

Chapter 1: The Consequence...

Summary: You're a sniper/medic, part of the team 141. Everyone considers you their light, however, your light has diminished and has started taking a toll on the rest of the team because of a choice you made...now you have to face the consequences of your actions and live with that reminder forever..

Expectations: Slow burn, Breakup, Depression, Panic Attacks, Yelling, Mentions of Abuse, Mentions of SA, Romance, Slow Romance, Fighting, Violence, Blood, Killing, Shooting,Stabbing, Smut, Fluff, Flirting, Teasing, etc...

Call Sign: Hera or Lil Light

Word Count: 7.4k

A03 Version

Did you predict this would happen to you ? No...not to your full extent of your brain capacity. Were you regretting that night because you were emotional that night and took a huge risk ? Absolutely ! You wanted to kick yourself so hard for how stupid you were for not being rational, and God for bid even allowing him to keep it in. Yet, there you were, trembling in your bathroom holding a mere plastic with such simple symbols that held so much weight...

"Fuck..." you mumble to yourself. To be honest, you were horrified by this revelation, because you had broken up with your ex over a month ago, and neither of you had sex in well ages... yet during your time of solitude, you took the liberty to drown your pain with another man. Now in some cases this shouldn't be a big deal right ? I mean...just tell the man you laid with, that apparently your birth control didn't really prevent the bastards bloody seeds from entering your womb and creating a growing child. Oh yeah, with that, your ex decided to walk back into your life wanting a second chance, and he's been awfully persistent in stalking and threatening via text messages and more. Oh and to top it off...the possible father to be, had been avoiding you like the plague. So yes...everything is just lovely. You groan out in a choked sob yet you grumbled with anger. Of all people and of all times...why you ?

Over a month ago~

You had to get yourself together though, because unfortunately you weren't some mere woman who just happened to be knocked up...oh to make it worse you just so happened to be a Sargent who is part of the task force 141 as their designated sniper/medic and to make it WORSE. You were supposed to be leaving for a mission in the next hour. You dropped the plastic into your sink as you slouched down onto the cold tile flooring pressing your back to the wall and cradling your head "Oh fuck...what am I going to do" you nearly sobbed trying to hold back your tears from gushing down your cheeks.

God forbid they notice the tear stains on your cheek, or puffy eyes that are blood shot and red nose, your team will definitely be on your arse about what's got you so moody. Honestly when you noticed your mood being more...well gruff you simply thought it was due to stress. Especially what happened a month ago....all you wanted was to be left alone to eat your breakfast especially with how horrible your morning has started, the one solitude moment of peace and enjoyment. Mind you, you loved the company of Soap and Gaz (your teammates) but for some reason, their obnoxious banter and rowdiness was only making you irritable. Honestly you thought it was from lack of sleep considering a week prior your ex has been unrelenting on getting a hold of you, asking for forgiveness and wanting to try again.

He was a civilian, you knew him since highschool before you enlisted. However, this job demanded a lot and your time became few and few. Which caused a tear in your relationship, even though your ex knew of the reality of your job you always did your best to reach out to him and spend any waking hour to contact him. Sure, there was signs of distancing but you didn't know better....then after one mission, you came back early, and as eager as you were to surprise your once boyfriend, you found him on your couch with another woman. It was an earth shattering moment. In that moment of weakness you did something stupid...

I don't know how long I was standing outside in the rain...shaking and crying. An hour ? Two ? Three ? Did it honestly matter ? The image of your boyfriend in between the legs of a woman you've never seen on your couch shattered you into pieces. You were standing before the gates at your base, debating on whether to return to your bunk, but everyone knew you would be going home to your flat to be with your boyfriend. Yet the idea of confrontation by your team wasn't something you wanted to deal with at the moment. Let alone for them to see you in such a state. So you decided to do your best to sneak past everyone. Slowly dragging your feet, you made your way into the building where all the bunkers were, you could hear members laughing loudly and celebrating as you passed the lounge area. You tried to remain unnoticed and silent, sneaking by, which in the moment you thought you were successful. Drawing near as you kept walking down the halls to your door, however, what you didn't realize was a looming shadow who was watching your every move. Just as you were about to open your door-

"Why are you drenched ?" A deep Manchester voice spoke, that all so familiar voice sent a rush up your spin and it wasn't even from the cold of your soaked clothes. His voice always made you tremble and flustered. Hesitantly you made eye contact with the owner of the voice, seeing the balaclava of the skull man standing dauntingly 6'4" with his blonde lashes partially slitting his almond eyes that took in your features. Even with his eyes on you, you wanted to shrink. Mind you, Ghost and you had no qualms with one another but you always found him intimidating yet together you worked well as a team. "I- went for a walk and ended up getting rained on" you fumbled up a lie avoiding eye contact squeezing your hand on the door knob silently praying he wouldn't notice.

"That so?" He says lowly. It makes you gaze back up at him once more not fully looking in his direction as he had his arms crossed still looking down at you, you heavily gulped "Y-Yeah ?" You could see a partial shift over his eyes, it meant he raised a brow at you before approaching you more as he stood directly behind you now, his chest nearly pressing up behind you, this made you hesitantly turn to face your Lieutenant who was looking down at you more seriously. His head tilting down at your short figure his arms coming down to his sides. You had to put a hand up onto his chest to stop him from drawing any closer as your heart began to race and you immediately averted your gaze from his towering figure.

You didn't even realize he had you pinned into your door with his hand over you gripping the ledge of the doorframe as you could feel the rise in your cheeks. "You 're lying. What did he do ?'" his eyes scanned over your features. Obviously the rain did very little to hide your tear stained cheeks and the redness in your eyes. Yet you still refused to meet his gaze. For what felt like an internity his gloved hands reached up and lifted your chin slowly. The sensation of his rough leather skeleton gloves made your eyes widen as he tipped your chin up to meet his looming gaze. How could you look away now. Your eyes latched on to his menacing gaze. You can see his eyes slightly flickered with some kind of emotion...now you wouldn't consider yourself an expert on reading his expressions but you'd like to think you could a little....yet it was impossible that Ghost...the Lieutenant Ghost was sympathetic for you ?

Don't even think you realized what was happening or that he had slightly lifted his balaclava up just over the bridge of his perfectly shaped nose, that showed the hint of a scar that peeked under his mask across his strong high bone cheeks and perfect lips that has a scar slicing the right corner. You didn't even realize then, he leaned near your ear and whispered "Y/n...snap out of it" ....wait no thats not what he said.

"Oi ! Earth to y/n ! You get any shut eye ? I miss your sexy voice Bonnie" Soap snickered as you were brought back into the moment having been in position, as it seemed your mind was seamlessly going to recall that moment between you and the Lieutenant yet, your body already knew what it was doing. You had your sniper rifle in front of you with the scope brushing at your long eyelashes. You were stationed not that many klicks from where the boys were moving into action. You could see Soap stealthily moving around another building trying to move closer to the targets building without alerting the guards until they've breached their walls. Of course, the living myth and legend was leading them closer to the building, he camouflaged impressively well into the shadows for such a big guy.

Again your mind was drifting and the static in your comms rang through your ear as your Lieutenant spoke "Hera. Take the two on the west building." This snapped you to attention as you shifted your scope as he had directed, your finger moving to the trigger as you took a deep breath to stop your queasy stomach. Pulling the trigger you took down one man, who crumbled down quickly the other becoming aware of his partner down but before he could so much as spread the word you had pulled the trigger already and he was down as well. You radio into your comms "Clear. Proceed with caution Bravo 0-7, there's 4 at the back entry." You locked your rifle as you moved your eyes from the scope "Copy that Hera." He says through the comms. You had to shift positions now, lingering in one spot was dangerous, as you slid back from your spot out of sight hitting your comms "Alpha 2-8 moving positions" you swiftly made your way to another spot that gave you a different angle to where the boys were going to be entering as you got into your knees setting down your rifle.

Yet something felt very wrong. You were frozen to the spot, listening intently, your nose, due to your pregnancy, it was heightened and you could smell someone's sweat from where you were. Over the comms you could hear that Soap and Ghost had already breached the walls making their way to find the enemy hiding within the walls. Behind you, there was nothing but high grass, and you were wearing beige clothing to blend to the tall dying grass.

You pull out your knife and pistol, clicking off the safety and check it's loaded. Even now the scent was more potent, you wanted to throw up, the unwanted man was wearing heavy cologne of sorts and for anyone in the SAS that's a stupid move. Even now you could hear the ringing in the comms as Ghost and Soap updated on their movement and such.

Yet even when you heard them ask "Soap, to Alpha 2-8, what's ya status lass ? " you could hear the slight panic in Soap's voice yet right now you were remaining still observing your surroundings. Even now you can hear how frantic Soap was becoming and the deep booming voice of your Lieutenant sounded through your earpiece "Hera. What's your status." He sounded gruff and annoyed probably not to you but you did catch between the two over the comms that the enemy was not in the building and that it was a setup.

That much you already knew. You reached for the comms pressing the button and speaking softly "This is Alpha 2-8....my post has been compromised" and yet that is when you saw your stalker lunge out from the tall grass, immediately you pulled the trigger, but not before he tumbled into you having a knife in hand slicing your shoulder deeply, you yelped upon impact, tumbling to the ground, hitting the back of your head, but not hesitating to wrap your legs around the man who was trying to stab you hovering over you with him trying to push it down to your throat. You grunted trying to hold his grip as he straddled you down, you can hear Soap frantically calling through the comms "Oi! Hera ! Answer us Bonnie !" You couldn't as you grunted pushing with legs to knee him in the groin which caused him to roll off you. Quickly you reached for your dagger and rolled to where he was stabbing down hitting him then the chest, as you didn't hesitate to grab your pistol that was tossed to the side and shoot him in the head.

Panting hard you held your stomach immediately feeling sick, the blood all over your hands and face, the scent...oh God that potent iron scent. You had to move away to empty your stomach all the whole Ghost and Soap were making their way back to your last known location hearing you hurl your stomach. Ghosts loud booming voice could be heard from a distance while he hit the comms "Hera !" You began to cough more as you tried to take deep breaths. Reaching painful to the comms with your wounded shoulder "I'm good. Just had a tussle."

You were shaking looking away from the dead man, not aware that Ghost and Soap reached you. They took in the scene then you. Soap quickly approaching you seeing you look sick and bleeding "Jesus Bonnie... thought we lost you, you sure ki-" he paused mid saying "Aye...you good ?" You were going to respond but it felt like your stomach was acidic. You didn't even know. But your vision began to blur and you fainted. You could only feel strong arms quickly catch you before the fall but it was numb everywhere throughout your body. You could see the skull mask hovering and the slight glimpse of the Mohawk figure looking over you trying to get your attention. But your eyes closed.

White, a color you probably absolutely hated seeing that blinded you in every corner. Sitting in the chair your legs dangling as you fiddled with your fingers. You had recovered after you've fainted when they loaded you on the chopper, you assured the team you were just dehydrated. But of course, Lieutenant gave you that knowing glare that made you relent. You knew what the doctor was going to say, he drew your blood, tended your wounds, and checked for bruising which was on your hips, wrists, and chest.

Even now your anxiety was high as you nearly jumped out of the chair at the sight of a familiar doctor who you'd often work with around the med base. Dr.Connar. Good looking man, he was slender tallish(no where close to military big like Ghost) tustled brownish black hair, deep brown eyes and genuine smile. He was holding your chart and you knew what to expect. "We have got to stop meeting like this y/n." He snickered seeing you as he pulled up a chair in front of you as you gazed up at him waiting for the inevitable. "So...your wound isn't infected. Just some mild bruising will be gone in a couple days. You hit your head I see. Slight bleeding nothing serious though...." this was when he gazes up at you seriously over the chart we he was reading resting it on the table to the side, he leaned forward his elbows resting on his knees as he looked at you seriously

"As you know... protocol. I have to check your blood to ensure you were not given anything into your bloodstream or got an unknown infection." You nodded your head slowly not averting your eyes from his serious gaze. "Then you also know...I must give this report to your Captain of your condition? " you flinched as he considered it as a condition now looking down. His eyes still boring into you as he let out a sigh "What the fuck y/n ! You should've been nowhere near the battlefield. You could've been seriously hurt or killed !" You flinched a bit more, tears forming in your eyes as you couldn't hold it any longer.

"You don't think I don't Fuckin' know that ?!" You cry out in anger yet he doesn't so much as flinch just simply gives you a sympathetic look. "I didn't ask for this ! Any of it !" You get out of the chair huffing annoyed as you began pacing the room his eyes watching your every movement. " You know since you are my patient I'd have to put in you are suspended from combat, training, or field work. Considering even maternity leave by second trimester." He says so casually but it makes you glare daggers at him, deep down logically you know he's right but...fuck you didn't want to have everyone questioning you why you're being pulled off when you are physically fine.

"Please Peter....don't do this to me." You beg him looking at him, he stands up placing a hand on your shoulders making you look at him "Y/n... believe me. I am not doing this as your doctor. I'm doing this as your friend. If something were to happen to you-" you interjected "Nothing will, I can fight-" yet he grips your shoulders more firmly "No ! You could've lost it or your life ! I will not stand by as your doctor or friend to put your life or that child in harms way !"

Child. Huh. Funny, you just found out... could barely even consider it a child as it's just a mere embryo at this point not even a human body formed yet. But deep down, without so much thought your hand slid down touching your stomach and Peter guided you to sit into the chair. "You're my dearest friend. I know this is terrifying...but you have to think outside yourself now" you glance at him as he was boring into your eyes. You knew he was right...deep down you would want to protect your growing child. However, knowing the horrors of the world and your enemies made you terrified to think the timing was just horrible. You couldn't stop. The tears rolled down your face heavily and you sobbed into your friend's shoulder as he let you, hold you.

The next day, you were asked into the office by Captain Price, everyone was expecting you to have to hand in your medical sheet, yet you begged your friend to allow you to talk it out with your captain. You were terrified. Gazing at the door in front of you that had Price's name plate on it, you tentatively rasped your knuckles onto it. As if immediately you hear the Liverpool accent gruffly acknowledge "Enter." John has always been a comforting Captain despite his ranking he valued every solider it's why you remained loyal to this taskforce especially after being handpicking from him. He glances up from the piles of papers he was signing off seeing you enter as he gave you a content smile "Good seeing you Y/n. How are you feeling?"

He motions for you to sit as you do so nervously, "Good sir...um I brought you my medical chart" you reluctantly stretch it out within hand to offer him to look at it as he takes it, even before he opened it you spoked "Permission to ask a favor sir ?" This caught his attention as he set the file down taking in your nervous features. You looked nervous, barely looking like you've slept and definitely have been crying. He tips his head to tell you to go on "Go on..." you let out a shakey breath. "I'd like to request that...my medical condition not be shared outside this room please ?" You almost whispered the please, your eyes begging him to understand and this was a request he was taken back from. Setting the file down rather to hear it from you then read it himself . Honestly John's heart was beating so hard, it was going loudly in his ears "I'll agree...that is if you tell me what it is you have ?"

Honestly his eyes raked over your form, despite being small, you weren't exactly weak, infact he wouldn't even consider you the type to have an illness so imagine his surprise to your request yet nonetheless he was patient and understanding.

You bite your lower lip gripping at the knees of your cargo pants shamefully looking down starting to shake, John placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. You didn't realize he was sitting in front of you at the edge of his desk leaning forward. He was willing to wait until you were ready to tell, and looking into his ocean eyes you gave in "I- I'm pregnant sir..." his eyes were wide for a moment reeling from the news.

Sure he knew you had a boyfriend but you hadn't interacted with him in months that much he was aware of. He would console you some nights when you'd cry about being distant and how he doesn't treat you or touch you the same. Of course he wanted to support you, you were like a daughter to him, so he spoke softly yet with authority "I can see this is a big deal...then I am to presume..." glancing at your figure he didn't know much about pregnant women but he could tell you were no where near showing. "I will not reprimand you y/n...but I need to know." He looks at you seriously waiting.

You knew what he was asking for and it made you even more scared. Having to tell your friend was already a huge step but to tell your captain? "L-Lieutenant G-Ghost sir..." you looked down with shame.

However Price was more shocked than anything. Their Simon Riley? He wanted to gawk at this news but knew that's not what you needed right now, quite frankly he had to contain to his rank. Sitting back "You are aware of the consequences to such inappropriate conduct ? You could be stripped of your rank and court martial." He frowns at you seriously which you nod your head seldomly "Y-Yes sir" he sighs out pinching the bridge of his nose "Does he know ?" This makes you flinch. You really did not want to walk up to your Lieutenant and tell him you're possibly pregnant with his child. That's a big F no. You glance up at your Captain. "No sir... I don't think I can." He gives you a look as you respond immediately "Please Captain, I don't want to cause trouble. I'm begging you. Please make an excuse to suspend me." You gave him a pleading look.

Now under most cases he would've given into your puppy dog eyes but this was serious. You were asking him not only as a Captain but as the best friend to Ghost. To go behind his back and lie to him. He crossed his arms over his chest letting out a deep sigh "Y/n...I am not keen on withholding information from my lieutenant-" you were about to interject yet he raised his hand, which made you silence blushing heavily heart racing "However...I'll grant this request on ONE condition." You seemed hopeful with this proposition. Yet John gave you a very straight look, "I don't care when you do it. But you MUST tell my Lieutenant." He looks at you daring you to object. Now deep down you wanted to. The fear in your eyes was evident. Approach Ghost ? No way...I can barely handle his intense gaze let alone confronting him about this. You bit the inside of your cheek considering it, before relenting "I-I agree sir...when I find the right time. I will. I promise." He studies you looking to see if you were lying but he found none, if anything he just saw how fearful you were from all this so he had to trust you.

Nodding his head accepting that answer he moved back around to his chair sitting down "I will work on a reason for your suspension until you've well..." he seemed flustered to say the least as he cleared his throat. "I'll have Laswell make sure to come up with a decent reason to keep the other lads off your radar." You smile gratefully nodding you head. As you salute him then take your leave. You didn't realize how much you were holding your breath as you let out a shaky breath. Great...now how do you tell a Ghost that he knocked you up ? Grumbling softly you began walking to your bunker, by now, Price was probably working up a reason for your suspension so it seemed only right to pack. Perhaps maybe you'll find the right thing to say to him...why you....such a big responsibility on your shoulders and yet you have to make a choice. Yet depending on what you choose...will it be good ? Or make it worse ?

You make your way down the hall, heading to the food court where everyone was gathered, grabbing their trays of food. Seeing faces that were unfamiliar or people you recognize but never really got to know. Everyone was chatting with another. You took in the room, it was almost overwhelming. Especially the smell, god, the smell of men was potent. Was it always this musky smelling with different colognes drifting through the air. It made you want to hurl your stomach. That was when you felt a large arm drape roughly over your shoulders causing to grunt from the impact as you look up to meet a familiar blue eyes and Mohawk figure. Soap. “There you been lass ! Save a seat for ya’ !” You sigh inwardly “Jesus Christ Soap, I just got discharged-“ he seems to immediately look at you worriedly “You broken Bonnie ?” he studies you almost inspecting to find the source of your pain “Nah, I’m good. Just bit sick to the stomach” he seems to relax at that patting you gently on the shoulder and pushing you to go up to grab some food “Glad you good, had us worried there for a ‘ec, shoot, don’t think I’ve ever seen LT so panicked.” He wiggles a brow at you which makes you shrink and blush before batting his arm away as you grab a tray to pick out food. “Oh hush Soap…any news since-?” you ask curiously as you grab fruits and a salad then take a glance in his direction.

He was stacking his plate up with everything. Jesus that man could eat. It made you start to realize now that you should probably eat more than you’re used to since now you’ll be feeding for two. You decided based on the selection of food presented that you would think your stomach would tolerate is a simple chicken sandwich. Placing it on your plate Soap mumbles lowly “No…nothing. Fuck’n sucks. Feels like we just chasing shadows.” You look up at him sympathetically and toss and apple at him which he fumbles to catch yet does looking at you “You need to even out your diet Soap. Need some form of fruit or veggies in that belly of yours.” As you look down with a smirk to his tray. Boy this Scottish man can eat, not one not two BUT three sandwiches. You snort shaking your head dismissively walking toward where Gaz was seated at a table waving the two of you over. As Soap snaps back “Oi ! I’ll have you know I gotta feed my gains ! We all can’t be tiny and slender like you” he grumbles. This makes you blush, because already you felt you were more bloated than usual. Sure the bump wasn’t as pronounced if anything looked like you gained a few pounds. However, you were always athletic and physically in shape.

Taking a seat next to Gaz you smile at him, which he returns the gesture “Glad to see you well Hera. Had us all worried.” You blush and smile at him. Oh Gaz was probably secretly your favorite he was charming and sweet and absolutely the best kind of friend you could ask for. He is the definition of blood brother. You two always looked after each other and you were the one who mentioned his name to Price so there was a mutual friendship long before the taskforce. “Sorry for making you worry…by the way where’s Ghost ?” you cock your head looking at both men. They seem to frown at the mention of his name but Soap finally answers “Honestly…’aven’t seen him much lately…LT been very weird lately. But I bet he’ll be happy to see you up and about,” he pats your shoulder playfully smirking at you. You laugh softly. Eventually you finally begin eating, guess they seem oblivious to asking why you fainted which you were glad. They knew exactly how to make you relax, between their bickering and story telling they made you relax and feel normal and forget about the looming secret growing.

Immediately your instinct is to reach to your thigh where you usually wore your strap holding your dagger but of course. You were literally butt naked. Turning fully to look at the figure, you realize it’s none other than Ghost. You breathe out a sigh “Fuckin’ hell Ghost. Why you have to be such a creep !” you hiss out in an annoyance after nearly being scared trying to soothe your heart rate down as you look at his eyes rake over you. “You need to sharpen your awareness then. Could’ve been anyone.” He says seriously, his arms crossed over his chest looking at you. Now not only were you flustered but him correcting you at the moment really triggered you as you snap, “Well I shouldn’t need to be on guard on base !” you glare at him, yet he doesn’t so much as seem bothered by your features. Instead he approaches you, moving closer as he looks down at you. Your back pressed into the edge of the sink as he leans forward-

The day went by so quickly, you went with the boys to shoot some rounds, finally approved by your friend to hold a rifle to shoot some rounds. Of course, your aim is flawless when holding your favorite rifle It made you feel normalize in your life. After that you decided be best to take a shower as there are so few women on this base, and most the building was set up for men, you’d often wait until late as possible to be able to shower in peace. Taking a change of clothes and a towel you enter the shower room setting your bag down and undressing. Immediately your eyes scan over your naked form, for now you showed no signs. In fact you still looked sleek and fit. Yet you knew the wiser. Glancing at the side of your profile, you immediately felt insecure, the idea your body will change and expand that you’ll put on weight made you shiver. Tearing your eyes from the mirror you step into a shower stall and turn on the water. The gushing of cold hits your hand as you wait for it to warm up, now normally your body could handle such, but now you felt it was too cold to tolerate. Even with your body barely been pregnant long it already seems to be shifting to accommodate this unborn form.

You step under the warmth of the water letting it glide over your body. Its almost cleansing feeling the water graze over your body, as you comb your fingers through your scalp down to the end of your hair length. You began rubbing yourself with your bar of soap and sponge taking your time to clean yourself fully. Once you finished you turn off the water and wringing out your hair before reaching for your towel. The bathroom room was now full of your shower steam as it fogged the mirrors. You stood in front of one of them with your towel wrapped around, leaning closer you use your hand, in a circular motion to clear off the fogged mirror only to see a skull mask looking directly at you.

Ghosts POV

When they heard you over the comms tell them your spot been compromised he felt horrified that they wouldn’t have been able to get back to you on time and would’ve found you dead. Yet instead, they found you losing your stomach. It was all weird. You were if anything the most toughest women he’s met aside from Laswell, and that speaks volume. You were someone he let his guard down with, without regret. He didn’t mind showing you his darkest side, his pain, his reminders, and face. You took him in. You acknowledged him. You were patient with him too which is something he respected about you. You were someone who carried them self with such maturity, purity, and selflessness. And he…stupidly took advantage of that. From that night.

The minute you began to faint, he was immediately lunging to your side and catching you before you hit the ground. Judging by your state, didn’t seem like you were wounded extremely. Maybe some bruising. However, he found it unusual that you were losing your stomach after killing a man. I mean, everyone’s done stuff that made them sick, but he’s seen you calm and collected stabbing a man in the neck when you were lunged at one time during a mission. He always found you resilient so seeing you this sensitive seemed odd. Soap disrupted his thoughts looking down at your passed out form “Oi, Bonnie !” he immediately checked your pulse yet he knew wiser “She ‘s alright Soap. Just fainted from the looks of it.”

He then reaches to his vest still cradling her in his arms as he radios in the help, “Nikolai, bring the helo to RV. Coming in hot, Hera fainted.” He immediately picks you up bridal style, despite wearing a vest and armor you were still light. He nods his head, “Keep up Soap” as he already begins running to the rendezvous. Upon seeing the chopper lower, you began to stir in his arms and mumbles hoarsely “I-Im good. You can put me down Ghost.” He doesn’t even look down at you saying deeply “Didn’t look that way Sargent.” Yet you protest more, which he relents to setting you carefully onto the ground. His hands honestly wanted to linger over you longer but Soap came in supporting you with your arm over his shoulder “Aye ! Glad to have you back Bonnie. Gave us quite a scare !” he shouts over the loud chopper blades as they both walk in sync to load in.

Ghost lingers a good distance scanning their surroundings before getting into the chopper. He sits across from you, his eyes not leaving your frame. You seem distant... Like your mind was elsewhere yet you tried to remain present in the moment. He couldn’t help but try to read you as you made your best attempt to assure everyone you’re fine. But he could see otherwise. The way your eyes fluttered, how you forced a fake smile that seemed to work on others but couldn’t fool him. He also couldn’t help but notice how your hand instinctively went to touch your stomach.

He squinted his eyes, ‘Did you get hit in the stomach ? Is she hurt ? She didn’t seem bothered when I had my hand there carrying her.’ All these thoughts ran through his mind during the whole flight back. Once they finally returned, you of course tried to brush off that you were fine, yet Ghost wasn’t having it. You were off. He could feel it. He simply gave you a stern look and a sharp tone, “No. You’re getting checked up. End of discussion Sargent.” This made you flinch with his tone, but he had no choice. You wouldn’t have listened to reason no matter how much Soap begged or even asked you. However one thing he did admire you for, as a soldier, you always obeyed orders. You made your way to the med base, his eyes never leaving you as he wanted to make sure you actually headed that direction, yet Soap pulled him from his line of sight. “Gee, LT, didn’t have to be all ‘trict on ‘er.” Ghost side glances Soap with a slight brow raise. Then huff. “I don’t care. She needed to be told. She listened. ‘nough said” Taking his leave before Soap could say anything else he needed to get his mind off you.

Now he stands in front of you, with you barely covered before him. This was different. He could see the traces of bruising form on your shoulder. One was peeking just above your cleavage. His eyes took you in as your drenched form stood in front of him shying away from his line of sight as he was so close to you. He’d give anything to feel you again like before especially as you stand here practically exposed to him. Yet, as much as he wanted to give into his temptations... “I ‘ear you been askin’ ‘round for me,” his eyes scan between yours as you seem to gulp at this, obviously indicating it was true. “But now you loss for words ?” you bite the inside of your cheek, obviously he hit a nerve. Cocking a brow as he saw the strength in your eyes that always made him honestly want to give in. You spoke-“I was….there was something I wanted to tell you,” he tilted his head to the side narrowing his eyes a bit then nods “Well what is it ?” He takes a step back from you, his broad arms crossed as he gazes down at you.

He was leaning close to your ear, you were trembling before him, your hands out pressing onto his hoodie chest. His heart rate spiked from under your touch. Your lips said one thing but your body said something else. He watched you that day talk excitedly about seeing your boyfriend. Yet, he finds you a mess with tear stains avoiding everyone. He knew. He bloody fucking knew it. Your boyfriend was everything he hated and would even compare to as his own father. You who fought everyday, gave yourself willingly, everything as an amazing women and girlfriend. Only for that selfish prick to break it. It boiled him. To see you this way, you were their light. To see you so diminished was something he'd tear the world to bring that shine out in you. He leaned close to your ear “Say the word love. I’m here.” Your eyes looked up at him, oh those doe eyes. He would surrender to that sight in a heartbeat.

You were his weakness…

...but he also learned to see you were also his strength. You mouth slowly began to parts your eyes seemed to show a since of strength ‘Fuck…even when broken she stands strong. This women…’ he didn’t waste a minute crashing his lips onto your trembling lips. They were so plump and soft. You tasted salty from your tears, which he sucked away but the lingering taste of cherry from your lips made him want to devour you more. His hand sneaked down still holding under your chin, while the other unlatched from above the doorframe to rest on your hip. Pulling you closer to him, he could feel your hand slowly slide up his bicep to his neck. The sensation feeling of your soft fingers fleeting over it made him more riled. He immediately let go of his hold on your chin and opened the door to your bunker. He guides you in his hand pushing you in at your hips as he almost guides you to your bed in the corner. You stop just in front of the bed, his hands cupping your cheeks and neck kissing you more fiercely. You’re the one to make the first move, during the intense heat, you begin tugging at his belt loop. He can feel it. Yet-

Being practically naked gripping your towel around your dripping body was definitely not how you imagined telling him about being pregnant, however, maybe you can ask something else- “What happened a month ago... do you regret it ?” perhaps getting some kind of answer will bring out the courage to tell him. You watch for any kind of shift in his eyes yet you barely see much. However his eyes does narrow in on you, you wonder if he sees you’re dodging what’s the real reason you’ve been asking around of his absence. Just when your mind was planning to handle whatever response he gives, everything hit you like a bullet into a vest-

Wrong, because less then two days later he was making his way to the Captains office, knocking on it and telling him of his arrival. With the Captain deeply grunting to come in. What he wasn’t expecting was to see the Captain, stressed ? The man looked exhausted like he was fighting a battle of some sort. He looked as if he was atlas holding the world over his shoulder, every muscle tensed and jaw clenched using every ounce of power to keep going. Then when the Captains eyes met his, and the words came out, Ghost world came shattering. “Y/n, has quit the taskforce…” his eyes went wide, he was a man to hide any emotions but this…he wasn’t expecting you to up and leave. Did you even say bye to everyone? Were you crying your eyes out when you decided it ? But the one question that bothered in the back of his mind was; Was it because of HIM ?

He grunts a bit “Was a one time thing.” His eyes unwavering and stoic as if this is such a silly subject to be bringing up as he decided it was best to burn this bridge before his feelings got worse for you. He could not allow this to become more. He promised- now swore he’ll never get attached and he stupidly did. It was obvious for Soap to see, and if that was the case, how many others would notice too ? “It meant nothing Sargent. We both needed an escape. If this is what you wanted to waste my time for than we are done.” ‘Fuckin’ ‘ell, that should do it…’ he thought to himself, yet what he didn’t expect was to see the tears daring to form in your eyes he simply just stood there, your little fists were gripping the towel so tight your knuckles were white and your jaw was clenched. Yet, he didn’t stop there. He should have. “You’re a burden to this team…we don’t need dead weight. If you can’t get better than your no use to this team.” He said it…damages done.

The words hurt him just as much as it seemed to have hurt you. But instead of lashing out, which honestly he would have preferred you do then maybe he would’ve taken back his words. You… just stood there silent. It was worse than a ticking bomb going off. Your eyes were blazing with anger and he can see your tears wanting to crash down yet you suck in a deep breath, he honestly was expecting the worse, and you just went to grab your stuff. You began changing you didn’t even care if he would be watching or not, of course he wouldn’t dare instead was looking at the sinks only daring to listen to you as you shuffle. In matter of minutes you were dressed, holding your bag about to leave, you hand on the handle yet you stop. Looking at him ,‘Fuck…now I’ve done it. Price gonna rem me for it now’ he thought but instead you look at him with that same strength in your eyes “Good night Lieutenant.” It came out sharp he could hear it the slight venom in it but he didn’t so much aa react. He stupidly just stood there side glancing you before you finally took your leave. He then gazes back at the mirror, seeing his reflection he hated what he was seeing in himself but it had to be done. Maybe when you’ve cooled your head he’ll approach you differently. Perhaps these words would encourage you to do better. Perhaps now he won’t distracted by your alluring presence. Right-?

…

[twig-tea]

Things from Wandee Goodday ep 3 I can't stop thinking about:

I love so much that we got some good friends with benefits tension around personal boundaries when Dee asked who Yei was and then backed off (but Yak told him anyway). And between the jokes about rimming, Dee demanding Yak pay more attention to his dick last episode, and starting this episode in the 69 position, I am very, very here for this show saying over and over that sex is not just one act.

[ID: Gif of the beginning of episode 3, whichi is a pan-to-shot of Dee and Yak laying in 69 position on the floor under blankets]

i loved the different responses to hearing someone you love is in a "Friends with Benefits" situation; Kao warned Dee not to catch feelings or read too much into the situation and Cher/Yei teased Yak for lying to himself about what the situation is. Both are super valid and speak to who Dee and Yak are, who Kao and Cher/Yei are, and all of their experiences with love. And it speaks to the closeness of these relationships too, that Cher noticed Yak's necklace gone immediately and Kao similarly clocked its addition on Dee instantly.

Super here for Kao being the ultimate support bestie at work, equal parts haranguing and backing Dee up. Their relationship is perfection.

I really liked Yak peace-ing out of their agreement when Dee dropped a huge request with no context, that was so valid and in the spirit of FWB (he didn't actually owe him a bigger conversation).

I've already reblogged a couple of other people (@negrowhat and @lurkingshan) talking about this so I won't belabour it, but I am judging Dee for not only ignoring Yak's boundaries by going to his workplace and forcing him to train him and then flirting with him during training sessions after Yak both made clear he's worried about being out at work and had ended their agreement. I hope we get more of an explanation for Yak's reticence about dating a man while aiming for the championship as well as his change of mind.

The conversations with Cher and Oyei have me so curious about their history! Tell me everything, show. I put these questions in tags on a gifset (but to put them on main: Where is Oyei and Yak's father (who is also a former champ but apparently uninvolved with this family business, if he's still alive)? What happened to Yak's mother that he doesn't know if he takes after her? Why can they go to Cher's family for financial help but not Yei/Yak's (to the point where they had to take out what sounds like a predatory loan during COVID)? What is Cher afraid of re: being seen being affectionate to Oyei, and where does that come from? Is this history related to why Yak is so worried about his relationship to Dee getting in the way of his championship? All of this is seeded so organically and I'm so, so curious. It also has me even more in my feelings about Cher and Yei calling Yak their son.

[ID: Gif of Yei saying to Cher: I own this place. What's there to be afraid of? From the set linked in the paragraph above]

[I have a clown theory that Cher and Oyei's relationship is why his dad is out of the picture and his gym is in financial trouble (because it prevented Yei from getting sponsorship despite being a champion), and why Yak is worried about being in a relationship with a man even though he knows his brother won't care...we'll see how much of this the show pulls together!]

The flash of trauma from Dee at the crosswalk was interesting too; where is that going? What happened in Dee's past and how is it going to affect the story in future?

[More clown speculation: Is it related to why Dee is so good with patients and passionate about ortho? Has he seen someone in his life become disabled due to physical injury?]

Speaking of, I really loved seeing Dee be good at his job and great with patients and their families. In addition to it being just nice to see and good for our understanding of his character, it sets him up to have a fighting chance in the contest too, since patients apparently get a vote.

I love love love the camaraderie and giggling between Dee and Yak around making Ter jealous and shoving their fake relationship in those gossiping nurses' faces. The way they are actually friends who like one another and enjoy spending time together is just really wonderful to watch.

My biggest question is: Will Dee get a chance in this narrative to show up for Yak the way Yak has been showing up for Dee? And how can that current imbalance be reconciled with this all leading towards Dee trying to get a placement to go abroad--and his self-stated toxic trait of always needing to win? [shoutout to @chicademartinica for laying that out succinctly in her post]

In the meantime, I'm having a blast.

[smiley-mcdoggington]

Can you give us more teen alpha Stan and Ford getting through their ruts together?

HIIII SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO ANSWER I MADE IT WAY TOO LONG I HATE THEM NOW TW ABO TW STANCEST TW SEXUAL HARASSMENT KINDA TW DUBIOUS CONSENT I GUESS???

His shoes squeaked far too loudly as he scrabbled into a bathroom stall, the flimsy lock barely sliding into place, he dragged his feet up to the toilet seat and tried to make his breath quiet down even a little.

The bathroom door slammed against the tile wall, loud cackling followed. Ford held his hand over his mouth and listened to the other kids' sneakers squeaking on the linoleum. "Come on, Fingers!" Crampelter jeered, knocking on Ford's stall and taking away any hope they didn't know where he was. "We heard you was an alpha, we just wanted to check."

"Yeah, Fingers, what's an alpha doing hiding after he challenged us?" Daniels added.

Ford knew it was a risk going to the library when he knew his rut was coming - Stan's started yesterday, he knew he wasn't far off - but midterms were only a week away and he needed study material, he was only here clinging to the fact estrous cycles weren't supposed to affect you as much after your first. He'd even worn some of his Ma's itchy, flowery scent blockers! But apparently they weren't good enough.

His hand still hurt from when he'd punched Crampelter, he was out of practice and his form was always terrible.

He wiped the blood dripping from his nose, but said nothing. He sniffed weakly.

Daniels laughed. "Man, are you crying?!" The three friends laughed. "What kind of alpha are you? Look like an omega, act like an omega, smell like a garbage can - what kind of freak are you, Fingers?"

Ford kicked the stall door, the bullies laughed harder, and his anger shriveled into shame.

The stall door rattled, Ford saw the cheap lock trembling to stay closed and his stomach sank. "Come on, Fingers, open up! You're a man, aren't you?" Crampelter demanded, and Ford's heart bruised his ribs while he listened to the door rattle harder and harder. The whole room smelled like other alphas, his own weak rut scent nearly suffocated in it.

"Come on, Fingers!" He heard someone step on a toilet lid and then looked up and saw Daniels staring down at him. "You can tell us if it's your sweaty brother that's the alpha."

Crampelter cackled. "Yeah! Bet he bit you, bet that's the closest thing you'll get to being a real alpha!"

They all laughed, Daniels still looking right at him.

Then the bathroom door slammed open again. Library security, maybe? Some other adult?

Then a snarl that had his heart dropping to his toes echoed through the room.

Crampelter's voice rumbled right back. "Whats your deal, Dumber? You looking for a fight too?!"

Ford immediately relaxed. It was Stanley, he was here to pick Ford up, he promised he would try watching Star Trek again if Ford tried Days Of Our Lives. Stan had gotten him a huge bag of cheap jellybeans for the occasion. Stanley was here.

Stanley was also snarling - voice echoing through the public bathroom. Ford looked back up at where Daniels' head was poking down at him just to see him get bodily dragged away and out of the stall. Ford listened to the boys all yelling at Stan, but Stan didn't say a word, just kept growling like a protective animal. Ford had only really heard snarling on TV, and even that set him on edge. But it was different. It was just Stanley.

Ford let his numb legs touch the floor, the sounds of bodies hitting stalls echoing endlessly. For a second he entertained the thought that this was what they were saying about him - he needed his brother, he was pathetic on his own - but he swallowed the thought. Those kids were idiots. He flicked the lock open and slowly opened the door enough to see.

Stanley was on top of Crampelter, adding some additions to the black eye Ford gave him, punching him into the floor over and over while Daniels tried to hold him back. Hayes was gone - likely going to get security. Ford needed to get his brother and him out of there before that happened.

"Stanley." Ford said firmly, and Stanley froze, looking up at Ford. He growled lowly, eyes fixed on the blood undoubtably smeared all over the bottom of his face. "We have to go. If you get caught they might call Pa." He said, his voice cracking.

Stanley growled again, ripping his arms out of Daniels' hold and going to punch him.

"Stanley!" Ford barked, storming over and putting one hand on his brother's shoulder. "We're leaving." He said more firmly, dragging Stanley to his feet. His brother let himself be pulled, eyes still zeroed on Ford's attackers. The two were looking between the twins like bystanders looking at a trainwreck, but Ford ignored them. They had to get out of the building, even if Ford wanted to rear back and punch Daniels, too.

He dragged his brother out of the bathroom and through the library, passers by eyeing them - probably because the neutral atmosphere was being interrupted by the smell of blood and adrenalin and teenage ruts. Ford glanced at his table, where the whole mess started, and saw his stack of books he really wanted to study with. He steered them both away from the door briefly to grab them, stuffing his favorite two in his jacket while Stanley practically loomed at his shoulder.

He glanced at Stanley. "Well it's your fault I can't borrow them anymore." He said defensively. Stanley had no reaction, head still darting around. One five-fingered hand caught on the bottom of his shirt. Clingy.

"Come on, Stanley, drive me home." He said, speedwalking to the door, his brother attached to his side, probably staining Ford's shirt with his bloody knuckles.

They made it to the El Diablo parked illegally out front, and Ford wondered if it would be safe for Stanley to drive the way he was, but he would take his chances. He got into the passanger seat and immediately had to grit his teeth. Stan started to drive, and Ford watched the road anxiously.

"You ran that stop sign." He chided.

"Another stop sign." He snapped.

"That was a red light."

"You're ten over the speed limit."

"There's another stop sign--" Stanley slammed on the breaks.

"You know what Ford, you can walk!" His brother snapped.

"Really, you're gonna get me practically kicked out of my favorite library and then you're gonna make me walk home?!"

"You got your books!"

"Yeah, two of them! I know you're not good at math but even you have to get that there's more than two books in a library."

"Fuck you!"

"No, fuck you! Why did I have to drag you out of there like a cranky toddler?!"

"I don't know! I wasn't done with those motherfuckers!"

"So what, you were gonna kill them?!"

"I don't know!"

"Stanley!"

"We'd figure out how to get away with it."

"Not the point!"

"They hurt you!"

"They always hurt me, Stanley! You were acting like a rabid dog!"

Stan grumbled something under his breath, and Ford grabbed him by the face, turning him to face him. "What? What do you have to say for yourself?"

Stan let his head sink into Ford's hand. "I'd do it again." He said, almost smugly, pupils blown wide.

Ford huffed in annoyance. "Of course you would. You never learn a thing, do you?" He snipped.

"Nope." Stanley said with a dopey grin like he knew where this was going, and Ford was only human.

He dragged him forward into a kiss that was more teeth than anything, a brief back and forth that had Stanley melting into him with a sigh of relief. And they'd said Ford was the docile one.

One of Stan's hands found the hem of his shirt, sneaking under the fabric. Ford grabbed his wrist. "Back seat." He muttered into Stan's ear, and Stan shivered.

The cold air hit Ford like a slap to the face, and he quickly got into the back, watching Stanley do the same just a bit too slowly. The second the door clicked shut Ford was on him, pushing him against the fake leather seats, groaning when Stanley's leg pushed between his. Stan started pulling at Ford's shirt but Ford pulled away. Stan tried to follow but in a rush of adrenalin Ford's hand came up and shoved Stan back against the seats by the neck.

For a second, Stan's hand grabbed his wrist in a hold tight enough to bruise - tight enough to break, eyes sharp and dangerous like they had been in that bathroom - but he watched his brother swallow his instincts, tilting his chin up slightly, eyes lidded and dilated on Ford, hand on his wrist nothing but a gentle hold, thumb running circles around Ford's pulse point. In fractions of seconds he became docile, cowed, submissive.

He was wrong, Stan didn't act like a feral dog. He ran his hand up Stan's stomach, taking his shirt with him. Stanley was much too domestic for that. Much too tame for Ford.

His eyes began roving over his brother's exposed stomach, and he caught a patch of bright red by his hip. A fresh bruise, probably from the fight. In the coming hour more would likely colour his skin, no one was wearing gloves for that fight, but that one stopped him in his tracks. It was stark, if Ford squinted he could see the outlines of four knuckles. He ran his thumb over the edge of it, and Stanley didn't wince but his stomach tightened.

Ford understood, now, why he had to haul his brother off Crampelter. He wanted nothing more than to go back to that library and beat him to a pulp, just seeing the redness on Stanley's soft midsection. He wondered if he sucked bruises right next to it would it look like it was from a five-knuckled hand instead.

Stan's leg pushed up between his again, and Ford's eyes snapped up to his. "No." He said firmly.

Stanley looked confused. "Isn't that what we're in the back for..?" He said, annoyance seeping in.

"Not if you act like that." Ford snapped right back, and Stan bristled.

"Whats that supposed to--" Ford's thumb dug into Stanley's bruise and he did wince this time.

"Arms and legs to yourself or I'll stop." He said firmly, before one hand palmed roughly at the front of his brother's jeans. Stan made a short whine, fingers digging into the seats at his sides. Ford rolled down his fly one-handed, six-fingered hand wrapping around Stan's erection, already feeling the beginning of a knot under his pinkie. He leaned forward, but Stan's arms stayed at his sides. He pressed a kiss against that sensitive gland on his neck, making him shutter, before kissing his whispy sideburns. "Good boy." He praised, and Stanley whined, his dick kicking in Ford's hand. Ford stroked Stan slow and dry, just enough stimulation to make him squirm - but his hands stayed down, because Ford had told him and he listened, even indesposed with clouded judgment and instincts towards aggression, he kept his hands down for Ford.

"You're my good boy, aren't you?" He said half-rhetorically, but Stanley nodded furiously anyways. "So good for me." He murmured, hand tightening on Stan, fingers running gently over the swell of a knot. "Just me."

Stanley didn't respond right away, hips rolling against Fords' hand. He let go, leaning back on his haunches while Stanley looked up at him with utter betrayal. He got over it quickly when Ford's hands started undoing his own pants.

"We goin' all the way?" Stanley asked.

Ford shouldn't. Stanley would tear again, they had no lube in the car, they were in the middle of the street in the middle of the day in the middle of the week, any old dog-walker would see the car rocking from the shitty suspension.

But he wanted nothing more. He wanted to say something suave like 'only if you're good' but his mouth went dry when Stan's pants slipped past those little dips where his hips ended and his thighs began.

Ford helped all but yank Stanley's too-small pants off of him until he could see all of him. "Turn around." He said, and Stanley rolled onto his knees like a good puppy.

Ford's hands rested on Stan's cheeks, groping at him for a second before pulling them apart. Nothing remained from the last time they had done this but a faint red nick on the edge of his hole. Ford barely registered he was leaning forward until he gave the tiny wound a gentle kiss that had Stanley yelping. Ford snorted at him, before giving Stanley four of his fingers. "I need them wet." He said, and his brother's face went red, but he took the digits into his mouth without hesitation. Ford tracked the movement of his tongue against his fingers like he was in a trance, before pulling them out, fingers dripping on the car seats and Stanley's back as Ford brought them closer.

Stanley keened as he slowly pushed a finger into him, insides pulsing, panting into the faux leather, hands trying and failing to gain purchase near his head. Ford swallowed as he started thrusting his finger in and out.

Stanley's shoulders slowly relaxed a little, and Ford took it as permission to add another. Stan grunted, turning his head to side-eye him. "Warn a guy," He said lowly. "That fucking hurts, you know."

Ford rolled his eyes. "Don't be such a baby, I know what I'm doing." He'd read a book on it, admittedly it was for omegas but really their biology wasn't that different.

Stanley muttered something in-between little huffs, and Ford paused. "Say that again."

"You didn't know what you was doing last time."

"You were the one crying for it like a bitch in heat." Ford snapped, fingers moving faster just to trip Stanley up.

"Y-you - shit - you was th-- the one that says - says you - kn-knew what you was doing!"

"A lot of complains for someone who can't get their words straight."

"Fu-uck you." Stanley whined, hips ever so slightly thrusting backwards.

Ford stopped his own movements entirely, just watching Stanley move. Stanley had never done that before.

Stan started moving quicker. "Come on Sixer, don't go soft on me now." He bitched.

Patience was a virtue Ford was learning he didn't have. He pulled his fingers out completely and Stan started complaining but he didn't even register it until he'd lined himself up.

He thrust in and Stanley let out a sharp 'Fuck!' under him. For a second Ford shut his eyes tightly and thought about that time three years ago when he'd accidentally said 'hyperthermia' instead of 'hypothermia' while speaking in front of the whole class and had to be corrected by Cathy Fucking Crenshaw. He refused to be a minute man, especially not when he had a point to prove.

He looked down at his brother, who was holding into the seats for dear life, face red and trying to roll his hips again, making small huffs. "Bitch in heat." Ford muttered.

"Fuck o-off - you tore me again, ass-h-hole." He whined, still trying to fuck himself despite it.

Ford pulled halfway out and his dick was much redder than it was going in. "You're fine, Stanley." Ford lied. "Stop complaining so much."

Stanley opened his mouth to retort but Ford thrust back in and instead it came out as a wail. Ford set a harsh pace just to hear Stan's warbling moans as Ford got closer and closer, knot bumping against him.

Stan was keeping his hands to himself, but he didn't really have a choice like this. It made Ford pause. His brother whined, turning back to him. "Stanford," He panted, voice wrecked. "What the fuck."

Ford pulled out. "Flip over."

"Again?" Stanley bitched, already rolling himself over in the tiny space. "What's with you today?" He said even as he relented, confused but still obeying Ford so easily.

Ford picked up his legs and slid back in before he could notice the blood. Stanley groaned long and low.

"I just want to see you." Ford answered. He wanted to see what Stanley would do if he tried clinging to Ford and Ford denied him. They both wanted the closeness, the contact, estrous cycles demanded it. Wanted to see Stanley wanting so badly, wanted to see if he would still obey if he was desperate.

Stanley blushed at his words, turning his head to the side to hide his smile, leaving his neck exposed without even noticing. Cute. He still had dried blood on his knuckles, but he was just so fucking cute for Stanford only.

Ford kissed his cheek, his ear, his chin, his jaw, his neck, his clavicle - fingers running down his sides, over his warm, soft middle, thrusts slow and deep. A rumble started in Stan's chest, his arms went up to wrap around Ford, hold him closer, but the second he did Ford grabbed his wrists and pressed them back into the seat by his head. "Hands to yourself." He said firmly. "Or I'll stop."

Stan groaned. "Don't make me beg, Ford."

"I won't. But you want to be good for me, don't you?"

All the colour in Stan's eyes was swallowed by his pupils. "Yeah - yeah alright..."

Ford's thrusts started picking up again, alternating between kissing Stan all over and leaning away until his back was nearly straight. He watched Stan's hands continue to scrabble uselessly at the seats, in his hair, over his mouth, but not reaching out. He stayed to himself, even if he made aborted attempts to reach out every time Ford pulled back.

Ford had to slow down again - his body finally catching up to his activity, he could hear himself wheezing and Stan's legs on his shoulders were weighing him down with their gorgeous muscle and fat. He was down to rolling his hips into Stan, his brother keening and rolling back into him. He could see the hands on the faux leather loosening at the slower pace, and he grit his teeth. He wanted his brother to beg.

So he reached up one hand and rolled a thumb over his own nipple. Stanley was immediately at attention. Stimulation there didn't really do much for either of them, but Stanley loved Ford's chest to a frankly irrational degree - he didn't have the chubby, hairy pecs that Stan had, there was nothing but a small layer of fat over his ribs, hair covering any hint of shape there was. But he pinched himself and Stanley whined like a dying man, clamping on Ford like a vice, sitting up as far as he could, legs curled tightly over his thin shoulders.

"Lemme?" He croaked, eyes wide like a kid in a candy store and focused on the miniscule movements of his fingers. Ford huffed a short laugh, still rolling his hips steadily.

"No, hands to yourself."

"Come on, Sixer, please? I won't use my hands I just wanna - wanna..." He kept swallowing, just the sight of him had Stanley drooling like Pavlov's dog.

"No, Stanley."

"Please, I just - they'll feel better in my mouth, I can make you - I just - god - please?"

"No." Ford said, continuing to fondle himself.

Stanley whined, clenching hard, rolling his hips in time with the rolls of Ford's fingers, eyes never leaving him for a second but obeying. Stanley was not someone that said 'please' often, but the word huffed out of his mouth with every breath he took, eyes on something Ford told him he couldn't have and so he didn't reach for. Ford's word had him begging for something not three feet from him, something he could reach for so easily but he held himself down because Ford said so.

Ford had never felt more powerful in his life.

He set a harsher pace, ignoring the muscle aches, the stiff peak between his fingers had Stanley hypnotized, moans and whines spilling out of his mouth in time with Ford's thrusts but unwilling to close his eyes for more than a second.

Ford's stomach hurt, he needed a release, but his rut demanded closeness and it was so cold away from Stan. He leaned forward, but Stanley's hands stayed off even with his knees almost to his chest, because he was perfect.

Ford's voice could barely drag out of him. "Puppy." He said roughly between keens, and Stanley whined at the nickname. "Hold onto me."

Stanley's legs ripped away, wrapping around his waist fast enough Ford couldn't even comprehend the movement, just the pins and needles on his shoulders afterwards. Stanley's arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him close enough the frames of his glasses dug into Stanley's cheek. Stanley didn't seem to mind, whining directly into Ford's ear, scent even more suffocating with the proximity, tiny 'thank you's falling from his mouth like Ford had given him a hard-won treat for his efforts. Ford could barely snake a hand between them to grip Stanley's knot hard before he pushed his own into his brother, making the coil in his stomach finally snap.

The come-down was soft, Stanley purring up a storm, still clinging onto Ford like he could merge them into a single entity. Ford was boneless in his hold, all the muscle strain coming back to hit him full force. The pressure was nice, the contact was nice. He felt his own chest rumbling as he held onto Stanley.

His Stanley.

[rubra-wav]

Hi! I’m autistic and a lesbian and my current hyper fixation/ comfort show is Hazbin Hotel and my favorite/comfort character is Angel Dust. I was wondering if you could write a platonic Angel x gn/fem reader that is angsty and involves the reader comforting and taking care of Angel after a really bad night with Valentino. With cuddling, and handholding and Angel dealing with addiction/ self harm and the reader just being there and supporting him or something. I totally understand if not I just thought I would ask. Also I’m a huge fan of your work!!

Safe and Sound If Only For Now (Angel Dust x Reader fic)

A/N Absolutely can, and 100% understand the vision. THE BOY NEEDS TO BE TAKEN CARE OF. 🗣

Also, thank you sm im glad my writing is being enjoyed 🙏

CW: marking it as NSFW due to the themes within but theres not any actual smut, hurt/comfort, angst, gn!reader, written as platonic but could be seen as romantic as well, Angel throws up at one point(dk if I need to tw that), themes of s/h and addiction, reference to trauma responses and mentions of physical and sexual abuse

When you were called downstairs by a very concerned Charlie at the wee hours of the morning, you knew that the night Angel Dust had was hell without having to even see him.

He'd apparently stumbled loudly through the door about 10 minutes ago, clearly not sober but still demanding a drink looking absolutely trashed. Husk had attempted to touch his shoulder, and the bartender was promptly smacked away with a yell to 'not touch him!'

Your footsteps had pattered loudly on the creaky floorboards down the hall of your hotel room as you quickly made your way to the bar where you knew he was.

And there you found him.

The hunched over, trembling figure of your friend with two of his arms folded around his head, a glass of alcohol you know tasted like utter shit clutched in another shaky hand.

Husk looked at you tiredly from behind the bar with clear relief on his features as he gestured to Angel with a look that asked you to take care of him - do what he couldn't in this moment.

It had taken a lot of verbal coaxing to get Angel to put down the drink and come with you to your room, but he eventually allowed you to gently grip his hand and tug him up the stairs and back down the hall to your room.

The second the door had shut behind the two of you, he'd completely fallen apart as you told him he was safe now.

That's how you were in this situation now, slumped on the floor next to the bed with Angel's face buried into the front of your shirt, your arms pulling his face closer and running your fingers through his messed up fur, carefully avoiding touching his neck and shoulders as you whispered to him softly to let it out.

Seconds ticked into minutes as his previously loud crying had slowly turned into broken, shaking sobs that were barely audible as you sat there with him slumped against you.

It was rather uncomfortable, your knees digging into the coarse rug on the floor of your room, but at the moment, that didn't much matter.

"'ank you. 'Ank you 'o much." He slurred out finally, voice cracking with emotion.

You hummed in response, relieved to hear his voice finally.

You removed your hands from where they were combing through his fur and instead cupped his cheeks, pulling his face away from your chest carefully.

Sympathy and anger stabbed through you painfully as you observed the darkening bruise on his puffy under-eye that had now been exposed with his tears. That asshole.

You brushed a thumb over the bruise with a furrowed brow, your frown deepening at the way he winced despite you barely even grazing it. You quickly moved your thumb away.

Angel's unfocused, bloodshot eyes watched you react to it with clear guilt. He swallowed thickly as he forced a grin onto his face. "'T's nothin' I'm not used to, toots." He mumbled. He could tell you didn't believe it for a second, and his heart sank despite all the alcohol knocking through him. Shit, he didn't want to sober up.

He could feel the pain he was trying to numb already creeping back into his body, though, and he 'tsk'd' with a hissing breath.

You shook your head slowly and got a better look at him as his eyes shut with a wince.

His jacket was a mess, a bite mark that was still bleeding soaking into his collar peaked out at you, and you grit your teeth as you looked down to see more droplets soaking into other places as well on his sides and hips.

Christ.

"I'm going to go get some things to help fix you up. Are you okay with taking a shower on your own?" You murmured softly but very seriously.

Angel forced his eyes open and nodded despite moving being the last thing he wanted to do right now, having you leave being even lower on that list.

"Yeah.. 'ut get me a change of clothes while you're out. That is unless you wanna see me in nothing more than a towel." He joked with a humour that was obviously not present, voice still very much hoarse.

You smiled at the comment half-heartedly and nodded. "I'll be right back, I swear." You gently patted his cheek before gripping his hands to help him stand up. With the tremendous height difference, it didn't do too much, but you could see he was appreciative of it nonetheless.

-

After a couple of minutes, you came back into the room with a change of clothes, a first aid kit, and a water bottle in one hand, a cup of hot chocolate in the other made just how liked it.

Angel was sitting on your bed awkwardly with a white towel draped over his lap. As he stood up and turned the other way to slip on the pair of shorts you'd bought him, you could fully see some of the multiple bite marks that were seeping into Angel's fur, matting it.

Your fists clenched and unclenched but you still didn't voice the silent fury coursing through you at what had clearly happened to him.

You placed the hot chocolate in Angel's hands as he sat back down, receiving a barely audible thanks, and then set into disinfecting the various marks and patching them up.

Each time he tensed up and hissed due to the disinfectant, you apologised profusely but didn't stop as you wanted to get it over as soon as possible for his sake.

Angel dug his teeth into the mug in his hands to avoid biting his tongue or cheek as he winced in pain, the hot drink on your part both a crutch and a grounding tool so he didn't dissociate away from everything completely.

If that happened, he knew he'd most likely pass out and that was the last thing he needed to do right now while you were making sure he didn't get some horrific infection from the wounds he'd sustained.

He was so incredibly tired of so much.

He didn't want to keep seeing the blurred images of the afternoon and night that made him want to start sobbing again.

He couldn't even remember properly, it was all a blur; hungry hands on him, faces and bodies he couldn't quite remember, and Valentino's red eyes looking down on him as his fist closed around his neck. All his memories were out of place, like a ripped up photograph rearranged wrongly.

Angel didn't even know what he'd done to get punished by him today.

He'd come to realise there was no real reason though due to you telling him as much, and that searching for it would just make spiral. It wasn't his fault that that moth-winged cunt had decided to break him today.

Or at least, that was the logical answer.

He still remembered the words that plagued him through the mess of memories and painful sensations staring at back at him like a hall of mirrors, though. 'You brought this upon yourself, Angelcakes.' Said through a cruel, patronising grin right before those same teeth dug into him again, and again, and again.

Angel grit his teeth as the memory made his head hurt before gagging as horrific nausea suddenly hit him all at once.

You cursed, having just finished up patching his wounds and pulled him towards the bathroom sink in your ensuite.

You took the hot chocolate from his hands before using the other to sweep his fur out of the way just in time as he started wretching loudly into the sink.

You patted his back awkwardly as he threw up all of what he'd been binging for the night in rapid succession, looking at a crack near the door frame of your bathroom to try give him some semblance of privacy.

After a couple of seconds, Angel panted with a horrified expression on his face at the taste in his mouth, shuddering.

"That was fuckin nasty, 'm sorry." Angel cringed, trembling with exertion as he washed out the sink and his mouth.

"If you're sick, you're sick, Angie." You continued rubbing his back gently as Angel straightened up, sighing in relief as he felt more steady now that everything had all been purged from his system.

One part of himself wanted to go bother Husk for more to drink, but he pushed it away, instead opting for the now lukewarm cup of hot chocolate that was sitting neglected on the edge of the bathroom sink.

He gripped the mug and threw it back, chugging it in the hope of washing out the horrific taste that still stuck around.

"Wait a second, I'll give you the painkillers with that." You called over you shoulder as you went to rummage through the first aid kit.

Angel slowly walked out of the bathroom after you, hunched over to be about your height as he waited for the pills. He tiredly spaced out as he looked at your hands going through the pile of stuff you'd brought.

You pressed the meds into his palm, and watched as he quickly downed it. "Do you wanna stay in my room tonight?" You asked as you cleared the stuff off of your bed.

You didn't really need the verbal confirmation as Angel flopped down onto your bed with a loud groan as he finally relaxed, exhaustion passing over every part of him.

You chuckled softly, and crawled up next to him, gently wrapping your arms loosely around his lower back as you pulled his face into your chest again.

He wrapped his arms around you in turn, another one of his hands creeping towards yours in silent request. You understood, lacing your fingers with his and gently nuzzled affectionately into the top of his head.

You could feel him start shaking softly again, once again tearing up despite everything. You tightened your embrace as you felt wet tears sink into your shirt again.

"It's okay, honey. It's okay. You're safe here with me." You repeated.

"Thank you 'o much." Angel whispered, tightening his grip on you in an attempt to bring you and your warmth to the bottomless pit of despair he constantly tried to forget.

"No problem. I love you, Angie. I really hope you know that." You gently kissed the top of his head, squeezing your hand laced with his reassuringly. "Now come on, try to get some sleep, you must be exhausted."

Angel's crying slowly stopped as the feeling of the security you provided swept over him like a warm blanket, creeping into every last crack in himself and filling it. The rhythmic beat of your heart under his cheek lulled him to complete calmness.

He didn't want it to end, but he still slipped into the warm embrace of sleep.

If only for a small while, the lock on his prison cell wasn't as cold, and the bars were not visible through your arms.

All that shit could wait until tomorrow.

I've read over it multiple times, but if there are errors y'all can see reading this one pls lmk - my brains been on wrong a bit today.

Bruh I just want Angel to be happy and cared for istg, he deserves it. 😭

[balkanradfem]

So, I've been reading 'Seeds of Hope' by Jane Goodall, because I am curious to what other people are saying about plants, and this book truly delivered. I've been introduced to some past plant drama in the world and that was incredible lore that should have been taught in history.

Apparently, when people first discovered tulips, they were so intensely valuable and popular, that people would trade huge amounts of money, diamonds, or even acres of land, for just one bulb. People were pre-paying for bulbs that didn't even exist yet, they would pre-order bulbs that are not yet even made. One servant ate a bulb thinking it was an onion and he got jail time for it. And I mean they're all correct, tulips just are that good.

There was also a lot of, much sadder drama about orchids; I didn't know this, but they originally grow very high up in the trees, and people were competing for discovering new and rare species. These rare and exotic species would then be displayed in rich people's gardens. Because they became so valuable, poachers would go trough the forests and take almost all of the orchids in there, making them near extinct in nature. This was resolved by orchid gardeners carefully growing them, multiplying and sharing to the point where they were sold commercially, which lessened their value on the black market, so there was no need to pillage them from the forests anymore. Growing rare plants is protection of them!

The book goes on to talk about botanic gardens, herbariums, and the value of collecting and archiving plant material, which is then showing us the effects of climate change, and stores valuable information about what is happening to the plants. It made me want to start a herbarium for sure, I'm always stressed about the loss of local plants, and it's happening more and more as green areas are cleared out.

The book touches upon plants that people have found harmful, such as plants that people make drugs out of; she clears it out to us that these plants are sacred to the native people who grew up with them, and creating drugs from them is in fact, abuse of these plants, and offensive to the communities who hold them sacred, and use them in appropriate doses as medicine. The book talks a lot about plant medicine! Apparently the pharmacy companies have been learning the knowledge about medicinal plants from native people who knew how to use plant medicine, and then the pharmacy would make medicine from those same plants, and profit off of it, without giving any credit or profit to the communities they got this knowledge from, which is not great. But then the demand for this medicine would go so high, they would go and gather all, or almost all medicinal plants from the areas where native people lived, devastating their medical supplies and natural habitats. Book goes on to question the ethics of acquiring medicine in this way, and never informing people where it came from, or what was sacrifices in order for the world to have it.

Similar things happened with valuable crops that are grown in native areas; once the demand for these crops grew, big monocrop fields were established, damaging the land and the local ecosystem, killing millions of animals who lived there, and sometimes forcing people or children into modern slavery, in order to grow them. Coffee, cocoa beans, vanilla beans, palm oil; they've been described as specifically devastating for the communities and the environment. But the book doesn't condemn these foods at all, instead the author goes on to describe, what has been done to improve this. Instead of monocrops, which are devastating for the environment, people are now taught to grow fruit trees in the same fields as coffee, which makes the coffee plants healthier and stronger, and creates and environment where some plants and animals can thrive. I personally don't believe you should have only 2 or 3 plants in a big area, I think you need about 3 millions, but it's a progress from monocrops.

The author describes finding and helping the local farmers who found ways to healthy, natural and non-damaging growing of these plants, and she helped them sell it! She also encourages buying organic food because it helps if the demand for non-monocrop food is growing.

Now there's a section of the book standing strongly against GMO foods, and for some reason I never heard any arguments against gmo, I didn't understand much about the harm coming from them, so I was very curious to hear this. The author explained how 47 million dollars was spent just for lobbying for GMO, which explains why all my information on gmo was positive, and I remember hearing it was 'the best way to reduce world hunger', but the world hunger is still a problem, so it obviously did not succeed. But now I have a better understanding of what it is.

GMO foods were specifically developed to have pesticides inside of them, so they'd be poisonous to pests, but not to people eating them. The research on whether they're poisonous to animals showed that the animals who ate them long term, had their inner organs irritated, enlarged, stomach infections, and had higher risk of cancer. So it was not proven to be safe, but it ended up in the stores anyway; the author says that about 70% of food in american supermarkets has unlabelled gmo, which is scary to think about. She also explains that this is the reason so many people in america are now trying to grow food at home, they don't want to be poisoned by pesticides.

GMO foods were specifically designed to support monocrops, and to protect them pests; this worked out in creating more and more bugs that are resistant to the pesticides, and farmers have reported the appearance of 'superbugs', which are resistant to any kind of pesticide. There's now also 'superweeds', which are resistant to herbicide. The industry is trying to develop new pesticides and new herbicides, in order to counter these new problems, but it is obvious that they're only sinking deeper and deeper; monocrops are unsustainable. Poisoning the earth and the plants, and even the seeds, is not going to lead to the end of world hunger. Farmers are often ending up losing their entire farms due to new bugs that are now thriving because all of their competition has been eliminated by pesticides, they're now the only bug and they can eat up the entire crop easily.

The other problem of GMO crops is that they're spreading their seeds and mixing with the natural crops, making them into GMO crops as well. According to the author the canola crops has already been lost, now all canola existing is genetically modified.

I'm dissatisfied with this knowledge, but it's better to know and be aware rather than to be in the dark. The author suggests designing living spaces that have gardens in them, and encouraging local community to garden, as well as planting city gardens, where food would grow for everyone. She goes on to describe the efforts of universities and cities who already had built their own living gardens in order to support the community, and how it worked to create a more beautiful, life-sustaining, happier place. She even explained how having local gardens makes the crime rate lower.

I loved this book, it had the environment awareness that can only be compared to Greta Thunberg's book, it described trees and plants so lovingly, and the connection people have with them. It showed me there's so many people fighting to save the forests and grasslands and native plants, and it's an effort that will make a big difference to how we get to live on this planet in the future.

[maggplays]

Bio? Something like that.

How did I start modding? Literally no one has asked this, but here's my story, don't worry it's not long... I guess that depends on what your definition of “long” is, haha! Hang on, here we go.

On a random day in January, 2024, a few days before my birthday, I might add... I woke up to stars in my right eye. A few days later, I was told I had a very rare injury and it would never heal. Those are not words an artist/gamer wants to hear! Long story short, I am now legally blind in my right eye. If you think, oh that's not a huge deal, you can still see. Humor me, get a cheap pirate eyepatch, put that on, then pour yourself a cup of coffee. Not as easy as you thought, right? Depth perception. It’s a thing. Anyway, on with the story. Suffice it to say, I was depressed. Majorly. Then, through some random conversation somewhere, I found Stardew Valley.

Perfect! 2D animation, cute pixel art, story that's not sugar-coated anime, I love it! Got to year 3, TBH I've never played past year 3 because ADHD, and realized the dialogue was quite lacking. Then I discovered mods. What the-, it's a freakin' goldmine! Downloaded a lot of things, mostly dialogue, and tossed half of them. While playing through a Sebastian run, I saw it. Oh. My. God. It's a coding error glaring at me in my dialogue box. This is NOT acceptable. I tried to ignore it, but then it happened again. Okay, time for some investigation. I opened the folder and found... json files. Interesting, I wasn't entirely clueless since I do know HTML code from back when the internet was a baby, Facebook had no ads, and dinosaurs roamed the earth. Okay, okay, the internet was more like a spoiled toddler. Yes, I'm old. Shut up. But I digress. It didn't take long to discover the misplaced punctuation and go on my merry reality-avoiding way. Until I got bored again.

I looked for more Seb mods, but there were like seven. Three were yandere, not my jam, and only 2 were updated for 1.6 and were dialogue-only. Solution? Make my own mod for myself. I spent six weeks downloading mods, learning code, Googling to very little effect, writing dialogue, learning how to make an event, discovering I knew nothing, and on and on. The perfect distraction from the whole eye thing. I finished a decent draft, loaded it up, and praise Yoba, it worked! And on we play. At some point, I saw a comment complaining about the lack of Sebastian dialogue mods. Huh, yep, they're right. Too bad. Oh. Well, I guess I could load this thing I made, it's really just my own internal story monologue while playing the game, I'm NOT a writer, and most people probably won't get it. But I did spend a lot of time on this, and maybe someone out there will like it. Heck, no skin off my nose since it's free. So I took a deep breath, made peace with my inner demons, and threw it out into the void of Nexus, expecting it to be swallowed up and ignored. That... didn't happen.

In the first few hours, several people downloaded it. Huh, Nexus must have a decent search algorithm. That was literally all I thought about it. The next day, 300 downloads. And comments! Mostly positive with the exception of one wild demand I subsequently ignored. At one week, it had 3,000 unique downloads. I was floored, 3,000 weirdos downloaded my mod. Add to that, people seemed to actually like it! I've never gotten so much positive feedback for anything in my life. Seriously. Apparently, my oddball internal monologue, thanks ADHD, is quite entertaining. Heck, might as well make another one... and here we are. Yes, I've gotten negative comments and unreasonable demands, but I do my best to ignore them and practice staying positive. Trolls be damned! It's a lot harder to do that for yourself than for other people, turns out.

So, bottom line, found something interesting? Try it! Does it make you happy? Keep doing it! Even if it's only for yourself, do the thing and let it make you smile. Share it with the world if you're so inclined. Get out there and kick ass!!

[doumadono]

Hiiiii!

Your annoying anon here! 🔥🔥🔥

sunday is approaching so I'd like to again ask for Enji Todoroki and maybe... reader wearing really short skirt! I wanna know his reaction and the things he would do with the reader.

Dear Nonnie! I had a sneaking suspicion you might drop into my askbox again, and you did! ♥ You're genuinely my preferred Sinful Anon! Whoever you are, let me send virtual kisses and hugs your way. I adore the fact that we both share a bit of a soft spot for Enji. If you're up for it, please, please, feel more than welcome to slide into my DMs so we can chat a bit more about our fiery man! 🔥

SINFUL SUNDAY

Sitting in the room just outside Endeavor's office, you were engrossed in the papers spread out in front of you, carefully reviewing each one. The door to his office stood ajar, and through that opening, you could feel his gaze, his strong presence. His watchful eyes followed your every move as you worked diligently.

His gaze moved deliberately, trailing down your form and then ascending again, lingering on your bare legs, the very short black skirt, and the crisp white button-up shirt. You might have been dressed more formally than necessary for the hero agency office, but his apparent approval made it clear that he didn't mind in the slightest.

You turned your eyes back to Todoroki, only to find he had vanished. Letting out a sigh, you returned your focus to the documents on your desk. Before you could scold yourself for being so concerned about your boss's attention, you sensed someone standing right behind you. If you could have caught your breath, you might have let out a surprised squeal. With an uncanny certainty, you knew it was Endeavor, a realization that sent shivers down your spine.

Endeavor whispered, "If you're as wet as I am hard, we'll be fucking amazing." His hot breath tickled your ear and gave you goosebumps. "4 minutes, 6th floor, government documents," he demanded and left.

You rose from your seat, a growing frustration propelling each step. Your irritation was evident as you jabbed the elevator button with more force than necessary, and your foot tapped impatiently while you waited. As the doors slid open, you entered the elevator. When the doors reopened on the sixth floor, you headed towards the government documents section. You spotted your boss at the end of one aisle, his gaze tracking your approach.

He closed the gap between you two, his fingers gripping your wrist as he growled, "Why did you choose to wear such a short skirt, hmm? Was it deliberate, an attempt to distract me? Or do you like looking like a cheap whore?"

Endeavor yanked you toward him until you collided with his huge chest. He growled and walked you backward until you felt metal shelves against your back. He leaned toward you, and his heat was intoxicating.

You nervously looked to see if anyone was around.

"I don't give a damn who's watching," Endeavor growled as his lips moved toward hers.

He forcefully pulled both your wrists above your head with one hand, his entire body pressing firmly against yours.

Your eyes widened as you felt his undeniable hardness within his pants.

Todoroki shoved your legs apart with his thick thigh so he could fit his hips better against yours. Your short skirt bunched up baring more of your legs. He just leaned in and licked your upper lip, soon kissing you fully, his tongue slipping into your mouth. He parted your shirt after every button was undone. One finger softly rubbed your bra back and forth over your left bud, and you whined quietly. "Such a needy, little doll," Endeavor mused, son sucking your lower lip into his mouth.

You lifted one leg up and wrapped it around his hip to pull him tighter against your body and rolled your hips forward. "Yeah, I'm so needy, boss," you admitted without a shame. "I need you to fuck me."

His hand fisted in your hair and yanked hard. "Look at me," Endeavor demanded.

You obeyed immediately.

"I am not fucking you here. I need a bed and about four hours for that." His hand slid beneath your short skirt as he added, "But I gotta touch you right now, I gotta check how wet you are for me." He groaned in frustration when his fingers met your cotton panties, and he pulled away slightly to yank them down. They wouldn't go very far since you still had a leg wrapped around his hip, but it was enough to slide his hand inside. Endeavor shoved a finger inside your pussy and growled. "Jesus, you're so fucking wet, doll. You can take more already."

Before you could process exactly what he meant, Todoroki added two more fingers inside you. All three stretched you painfully as he pushed a little harder. "So fucking hot. I hear how wet you are."

You flushed as you heard it too - the unmistakable sound of his fingers moving in your dripping cunt.

He let go of your hair, fingers scrambling to undo the fly his pants until he held his bare cock in his hand.

You watched Endeavor's hand as he began stroking himself at the same pace his fingers were withdrawing and thrusting inside your needy hole. You desperately wanted to touch his thick dick, wanted to help, but you were so overwhelmed all you could do was clutch his shoulders and hang on. "O-Oh, yes, yes!" You moaned for him, your lips parted, your tongue running along your lower lip as it got dry. "Oh God," you kept moaning over and over between grunts as he shoved his fingers inside you at fast pace. Your head rolled back, and you closed your eyes, surrendering to the pleasure.

Endeavor almost yelled, "Look at me when you come, bitch."

You opened your eyes and looked into his.

"I need to hear you," Todoroki demanded as he was jerking off so fast his hand was a blur.

He pumped his fingers into you harder. His thumb grazed your slick clit, and your fingernails clawed at his shoulders. He panted, "Mine, you're all fucking mine."

You screamed with your orgasm, forgetting where you were or who might hear. Your pussy clamped down on his fingers, and your leg tightened around him. "Enji, oh my God, yes!"

With a few loud grunt Todoroki came all over his hand, his semen slowly dripping down his calloused fingers. He groaned deeply in satisfaction. "Damn, you're so hot, doll," he slid his fingers out of you. He licked his forefinger. "Delicious. I need to lick you, taste you." He tucked his cock into his pants and fastened up as he turned away from you. "Come on."

You held onto the shelves behind you for balance as you stared after him.

He got halfway to the elevator before he realized you hadn't moved. You saw him turn around and head back your way. "I said, come on," he explained as he began buttoning your shirt. "I'm granting you a free afternoon. Now, we need a bed. I said I need my cock inside you."

[lfcgirlie866]

You Called ~ JB TAA

Hi! I'm so nervous to post this ahhh. It's probably awful, but hopefully you guys like it! I should also warn you that it's most likely too overdramatic and unrealistic but I guess that's why it's fanfiction, right? That, and I like writing angst apparently...

Summary: Jude is feeling down about everything that's been going on with his team lately, and there's only one person he wants to see

Pairing: jude bellingham × trent alexander-arnold (or it could just be them as platonic besties/brother vibes. It's open to your interpretation ☺️)

He shouldn't be doing this.

He really, really should not be doing this. But he is. For him.

Trent should be at home, asleep, recovering from the game last night but instead he's on a private jet heading towards Madrid at 1 in the morning. It's the one city he definitely should not be seen in right now, and he has no idea what will happen if the media spots him there. He's risking everything; his contract with Liverpool, his vice-captaincy... all of it. But he's doing it.

For him. For Jude.

Because Jude has never been the type of person to let things get to him for too long. He's too mature for that. Usually, the media's chatter about his performances is just annoying background noise that he can drown out with the help of his family or friends. He's the type of player who loves the game, loves to play no matter what. If you give him a challenge then he'll take it, and despite what people think, he's not in it for the glory. He doesn't need to be the 'golden boy' all the time. Jude just loves to play.

So when he called Trent a few hours ago, his voice shaky and devoid of anything good, Trent knew that something wasn't right. At all.

He'd watched Jude's recent games, or as much of them as he could fit in around his own demanding schedule of fixtures and training, so he'd seen the way Jude was being run into the ground every game. He'd watched one of his favourite people in this world give everything he had and more, but with nothing back in return. Trent knows better than anyone just how quick the media and 'fans' can turn on you after a bad performance, but Jude didn't deserve this.

Trents knee bounces up and down uncontrollably as he sits and watches the little plane graphic on one of the screens inch closer and closer to its destination. Each minute seems to feel like ten, and every single one of them is a minute too long. He's never wanted the ability to teleport more than he does now.

The haunting sound of Jude's hollow voice echoes around in his mind, scaring him in a way he didn't know was possible. In all of their defeats, even the huge ones, Trent has never heard Jude sound so lost. It had almost felt like even the younger man's underlying love of the game had been diminished, too.

This need Trent has to see Jude, to protect him, to soothe away the hurt... it's overwhelming. And it's not going to go anywhere until he's there with him.

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

Jude's shoulder was in agony, his ankle not faring much better either, and all he could manage to do about it was lay there on the couch, staring at the ceiling for hours on end. He couldn't sleep. Couldn't eat. Couldn't even be bothered to get up and take some painkillers.

Maybe he liked the pain a little too much. Maybe it quietened his mind just enough for him not to drown in his thoughts. Maybe it stopped him from replaying his games over and over again in his head, berating himself each time for all the mistakes he'd made.

Or maybe he's a liar. Maybe he just wanted to punish himself even more.

The large house was silent around him, shrouded in darkness now that he was here alone. He'd thought that was what he wanted. That's why he told his mum to go back to England to visit his dad and Jobe. She hadn't wanted to leave him, especially not when she knew he wasn't doing very well, but he'd ended up practically forcing her to go by booking her flight for her.

In his defence, all he'd wanted was some space to breathe. Some time alone to get himself together. So why did it feel like all the air in the house had disappeared?

His family are usually his saving graces. They keep his feet on the ground and support him through everything. They're his safe space in this world. Jobe especially can always seem to put Jude at ease and lift any weight from his shoulders. But Jobe was doing incredible at Sunderland this season and Jude didn't want to zap any of the focus away from him. His brother deserved all the glory. He was on a high, and Jude couldn't risk pulling him down from it with his own problems. So he'd called the only other person who felt like home to him.

Trent.

It was selfish, he knew that. His best friend had more than enough going on without him adding to it, but even just hearing his voice down the phone had brought some relief. That scouse accent that grates on most people's nerves was like a soothing balm to Jude. He didn't know why. Maybe because it was so familiar at this point. Maybe because it reminded him of all the good times they'd spent together over the years. Maybe it reminded him of how incredible it felt when they connected on the pitch. Or maybe he just loved the person behind the voice.

If he was being really honest with himself, Jude wanted Trent here with him. Their whole 'we ain't inseparable' spiel was mocking him right now, but that was one thing he definitely did not care about at this point. So what if they liked to be around each other? So what if they were each other's support systems? So. fucking. what.

He'd seen all the comments about them during the international breaks, saying the two of them were 'like a married couple' or that they were 'so touchy-feely'. He found them all hilarious, to be honest, and Jude finds himself wishing he was there at an England camp right now. At least then he'd have his 'emotional support scouser' by his side.

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

Open the door

Trent texts him as he stands by the gate outside Jude's house, his hood pulled up to stay as hidden as possible even though the street is seemingly empty.

What are you on about?

Comes his reply a few minutes later. Trent can't help but smile as he types out his next message.

Get off your lazy arse and come see lad

It's not long before the gate buzzes and unlocks, Trent slipping into the front yard quickly, closing the exterior gate behind him and shutting the rest of the world out with it.

And then Jude is there.

He's standing in the doorway of the house, looking more tired than Trent has ever seen him. Sadder, too. His eyes are wide, a slight frown creasing his brow as if he can't quite believe what he's seeing in front of him.

"You came?"

He questions in pure disbelief, and it rattles Trent in a way he isn't quite comfortable with.

"You called."

And it was that simple. It would always be that simple.

Of course he came. Of. Fucking. Course.

Within seconds the distance between them has disappeared. Jude's hand wraps around Trent's wrist, practically dragging him inside the house. The younger boy slams the door closed with his free hand, the other one remaining tightly gripping Trent's wrist, his fingers digging into the flesh there like he's trying to tether himself back to reality.

"Am I dreaming?" Jude whispers, his voice cracking as if he's about to fall apart any second now.

The sound steals Trent's own breath away. That, coupled with the obvious demons hiding behind Jude's eyes, is enough for Trent to feel like he's falling apart himself. He sends a prayer out to whoever is listening, asking them to take all of Jude's pain and give it to him. He'll bear it for him, do anything just to get the boy in front of him to smile again.

"Nah, 'm real." He murmurs.

And then Jude's in his arms, burying his face in Trent's neck as he clings to him desperately. The relief is instant, Trent's familiar scent and feel wrapping around him comfortingly.

Now, finally, Jude can breathe properly again.

[catty-words]

the way devi engages with her heritage is an important part of the text because anything that helps make up devi's identity - or crisis of the same - enhances the bildungsroman nature of the story. it's also hugely important for the way it establishes the tension in devi and nalini's relationship.

from the very first scene, mother and daughter are at odds over the value of being indian. devi is praying to their gods, sure, but she's asking for a more classic american teen high school experience. she wants to go to parties and have boyfriends but less body hair. she eats meat with abandon.

(sidebar, but i've always found this quiet, subtle bit of storytelling fascinating -

nalini and mohan are clearly at odds, too, about how heritage should fit into devi's upbringing. mohan feels a certain amount of pride/amusement/affection over devi being all-american, yet nalini disapproves and is even disgusted that this bit of ingrained respect for animals is being violated by her family.)

devi's textbook, then, is imbued with narrative significance where this through line is concerned by the following exchange:

nalini: devi, are you still praying? our gods have other stuff to do, you know?

devi: i was about to ask for good grades.

nalini: now, grab your textbooks. we need to go.

nalini: devi, that textbook has been blessed. if it touches the ground, i have to take it back to the priest. i don't have time to go to rancho cucamonga today!

it wouldn't be apparent to first-time viewers, necessarily, but there's a frustration at the lack of responsibility here that becomes indicative of their season one dynamic, right? nalini wants devi to take praying seriously, she wants her to take the blessed textbook seriously, and she doesn't have the capacity to patiently guide devi toward valuing that seriousness. she herself is grieving and working a demanding job that supports her family and expending more time than she really has to assert the importance of their culture's rituals on devi's life has put a strain on their relationship.

of course, on devi's side of things, she feels this pressure from her mom and the pressure to be accepted by her peers as diametrically opposed forces in her life. being indian only ever alienates devi from american normality, which is why kamala straddling both worlds with what devi perceives as effortlessness gets under her skin so easily.

the show further weaves these threads together - nalini's desire for devi to have a closeness with and respect for her culture and devi's tetchiness over letting her mom down being at odds with her need to be seen as normal - using the textbook in the following dialogue.

devi: how long is kamala gonna stay with us?

nalini: as long as it takes for her to finish her studies. why?

devi: she's just so... [with embarrassment and mild disgust] indian.

devi: like, the other day, she said she was gonna open the tv instead of turn on the tv.

nalini: devi, she is family. she's bettering her life, you could actually learn a little bit from her.

the way devi handles the blessed textbook symbolizes a disconnect with their culture for nalini, and nalini's focus on how it nearly touched the ground even though it didn't symbolizes an impossible standard she'll never be able to meet for devi.

it's obviously significant, then, that at the emotional climax of the episode, devi flings the textbook out of her window.

she's been made to feel fragile by her closest friends who, let's be real, devi was taking comfort in being cooler/more normal than up until the moment she finds out about eleanor's boyfriend. stressed about the way this sets back her misguided plan to paint over her grief with a shiny coat of popularity, devi lashes out at the symbol of these conflicting pressures on her life. she's never more at a loss about her own identity than when she smashes the window with the blessed textbook and lets it hit the ground.

but you know what? that complete lack of control motivates devi to seek out an actually healthy outlet for her emotions, i.e. a talk with her therapist. devi starts rebuilding herself immediately, and that tenacity and strength of spirit is something nalini will acknowledge as a pillar of her daughter's identity when standing up to rhyah two seasons from now.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Ok so, I love all the shorts you post on here, you are building up a background of Competent Officer but Emotionally Stunted Price and Emotionally Intelligent and Badass Nik. Cool, fabulous.

But I've got to ask; what is Nik's sore spot?

With the extra decade it does make sense that he is more sure of himself and his relationships generally but you did touch on it with the body image/food one and mentioned it in passing with the how they met bit. Does the age gap get to him sometimes? All the loud machines (and guns) is he worried about his hearing going?

Or, his English is pretty good but does he sometimes get lost with fast speakers/strong accents?

What about something more silly? Is he fine with spiders but gets freaked out by daddy long legs (like me)? Is he wildly afraid of moths? Is he fine with big injuries but if he get a papercut is it the end of the world? Does he suffer terribly from Man Flu?

On a more domestic note, what irritates Price about him? I mean, no one is perfect right?

Does he always leave the bathroom in a state? Do all the broken noses mean he snores like a bear with a head cold (admittedly that might apply to Price as well)? Is he like my Dad and has very strong opinions on adverts and regularly go on rants about how the ad has nothing to do with the product? Does he like Marmite and Price hates it (or vice versa)?

Some excellent questions. I think Nik's weaknesses or vulnerabilities are tied up with his strengths, which I know sounds weird, but hear me out:

- This man is mad intelligent. He speaks eight languages, he canonically can fly pretty much anything (from what I've seen). He was significant enough in knowledge and skills for MI6 to go for him twice. Weakness: his intelligence can sometimes make him coldly logical. Look at how he didn't even blink twice at terrifying Butcher's family; I think that feeds well into Price's ruthlessness. He cares deeply about those he loves, but if you're not "his"? He won't even blink when pulling the trigger if it will help meet his goals.

- Linked to the above, he values his physical strength and his intellect. They make him worth something and he doesn't feel he has any intrinsic worth just as Nik. (Overbearing and demanding Soviet General father made it clear Nik needed to earn his place in the world.) If he feels they are declining or lessening, this is going to throw him through a loop. Big time. (Well noted from the food ficlet.)

- I think he was hugely, perhaps even suicidally, depressed when he turned informant. That conflict of loyalty and morality would have been difficult for his mind to process. I think that explains his apparently unflinching loyalty to Price and Laswell. In his eyes, they saved his life by giving him a purpose. (Nik you stupid fuck you literally set up Chimera and you're a hugely wealthy arms dealer off your own back wtf mate.) Nik never really had time to heal from that, he papered over it and got on with the job. I think as he settles down with Price, he will need to go to therapy. A lot of it.

- He is untidy (not unclean) at home. Laundry on the floor by the basket, never puts books away, gets fixated on a project at the expense of other things. It's like he left the military and his psyche rebelled against the bits he hated the most. Price can't compute how he can be so clinical at work and yet a complete clusterfuck at home. The garage is full of vehicles and appliances he disassembled and never put back together. Man's lucky he's dynamite in bed.

Nik is a "good" man in so far as he can be in a morally grey position. I write him with Price, through Price's lens, so we see "hero protagonist Nik" because that's who he is to/with Price. However, I do have a little ficlet tucked away when a jealous Ghost confronts him in Paris, and he tells Ghost, "If you take a shot, boy, you better not miss, because it will not happen again", and Ghost realises just why Price chose this man as his life partner. He's exactly the same level of ruthless.