#twitch clips daily

[highshelfcollective]

🦊 Remember when we played #Wanderhome last year? Thanks to @jdragsky, we can have adorable moments like this, and you too can play as a little writer Fox who is just trying to catch his big break!

#ttrpg #tabletop #livestream #twitch #ttrpg community #high shelf collective #actual play #ttrpg family #gaming #ttrpg stuff #indie ttrpg #wanderhome #cute animals #cute #twitch clips daily #twitchtv #twitch clips

[royalarchivist]

If you're wondering why I haven't posted many clips from today's events it's because I'm salty that Twitch wiped the 50+ clips I made.

#mod talk #''Maybe the problem is you made 50 clips within a very short span of time'' shhhhhhhhhhh #I usually use my own downloader when watching VODs but when I'm doing it live I usually just do short clips #but I was looking back through and Twitch was like ''Nope! All gone!'' #Real Cool Of You Twitch #anyways I'm queueing a billion clips I've meant to post for the past few months #until my head cools and I try and re-clip at least a few things #maybe #I also exceeded my daily video upload limit which is stupid because I only posted like 5 videos today #Homophobia never sleeps

[hasanabivideos]

#hasanabi #hasan piker #politics #news #twitch #highlights #hasanabi highlights #hasanabi clips #hasan #hasan reacts #hasan react #candace owens #hasan candace owens #hasanabi candace owens #hasan piker candace owens #CANDACE OWENS FIRED FROM DAILY WIRE #candace owens fired #the daily wire #daily wire #hasan daily wire #hasanabi daily wire #dailywire #ben shapiro #hasan ben shapiro #hasanabi ben shapiro #Youtube

[slutforsilverfoxes]

Agents DiNozzo

[A/N #1 TLDR version: Got busy with an externship, got hospitalized for a cat bite, I missed u all v v much

A/N #2 for realsies: Would Tony and his wife be allowed to work together on a team? Probs not. Would Gibbs be crazy enough to voluntarily work with both of them? Even more probs not. But it makes my lil heart happy so here you go :)]

Pairing: Tony DiNozzo x wife!agent!reader

__________

There are two things in your career that satisfy you to no end: 1) Getting justice for the victims whose case files come across your desk and 2) Working with your husband every day. The latter presents complications, of course- the occasional conflict of interest, quibbles over theories following you home from the office, an added level of anxiety during contentious takedowns- but it also allows you the distinct privilege of spoiling and, arguably more importantly, embarrassing the hell out of one Anthony DiNozzo, Junior, on a daily basis.

Your head lifts on its own volition, guided by your nose tuning in to the sweet smell of hazelnut creamer and woodsy cologne permeating the air of the NCIS bullpen. Your partner, both in and out of the field, has evidently returned from a midday coffee run looking as delicious as the pastries you’ve spotted by the to-go cups on his desk. Checking to make sure your boss is still nestled securely in the Director’s office, you cross over into Tony’s space just as he lays his suit jacket across the back of his chair. Slipping your hands into the back pockets of his tight-fitting slacks, you can’t help but serenade him with the ten-second clip of brain rot that plagued your social media for a ridiculous number of weeks. “Can I get to the yams?” you whisper-sing through a giggle, pinching his favorite cheeks of yours, maintaining your grip even as you attempt to dodge the hand nearing the back of your head. “Sweet ya-am- ow!” Darting out of his reach, you drop into Tony’s seat with a pout, arms crossed petulantly. “You have hereby been demoted from Very Special Agent to just Special Agent for that.”

“You-” Tony sneaks a glance at McGee and Ziva who are trying- and failing- to hide their smiles before crouching to meet you at eye level and lowering his voice to carry on, “You are the reason we had to sit through that inappropriate conduct seminar for three hours last week.” He maintains an even tone, but you can see his lips twitching with amusement.

“I’m sorry everyone in this office is jealous I can touch your butt and they can’t,” you huff with an eye roll.

“Literally no one is jealous of you for that,” McGee calls from his desk across the aisle.

“Well, you guys are missing out,” you respond with an exaggerated sigh.

Shaking his head, Tony fixes you with as stern a look as he can muster. “Save it for later, Bee,” you intone in an imitation of your husband’s voice, “I know.”

“You would think,” he begins, offering you a hand to help you up and walking you back over to your desk by Ziva’s, “that you’d have moved past the infatuation stage at this point in our relationship.”

“And you would think you’d have stopped calling me ‘Probie’ by now, Anthony.”

“I have! ‘Bee’ is different than ‘Probie’. It’s a nickname and it’s cute.”

“Says who?” you challenge, eyes narrowed.

“Says the-”

“If you say ‘Senior Field Agent,’ I swear to God, Tony, you’re sleeping on the-”

“DiNozzos!” Gibbs’ gruff voice puts an immediate stop to your squabble as he descends the steps two at a time. “Ziva, McGee, all of you, front and center. Whaddya got? Besides too much time on your hands.”

“Coffee and a suspect,” you supply with a smile, turning on the plasma display as Tony presents Gibbs with a cardboard cup. “For once, Agent DiNozzo’s go-to theory seems to hold water.” Raising an eyebrow at your husband, you playfully mock, “It was the wife.”

Tim picks up the next leg of your shared insight. “Credit card history has the Lieutenant Commander’s wife meeting with our hit man at a hotel in Anacostia two weeks before the murder, Boss.”

“We also traced these calls from the burner found on our victim’s body,” Ziva indicates for Tim to highlight the outgoing calls on the phone logs before continuing, “…to his sister in law, Anna.”

The redhead’s photo pops up on the TV, and your husband lets out a low whistle that has your hand instantly connecting with the back of his head. “You are my light, my sunshine, and the very air I breathe, my dear,” he speaks through a grimace, trying to gauge your reaction through his peripheral vision.

“Go pick our hitman up,” Gibbs instructs, cutting off your bickering before it can begin by dangling the sedan’s keys on his index finger in front of you.

You snatch them up, sharing a catlike grin with Ziva. “My pleasure, Boss. I might be needing his services soon, anyway.”

“Uh uh,” your boss calls as the two of you start collecting your things. “Take Tony.”

Your husband flashes you a sheepish smile while you grumble at him over the lip of your coffee cup. “Let’s go, Dick-Nozzo.”

“It’s your last name, too,” he points out astutely, holding out his hand for the keys.

“Shut up. I’m driving.”

As the elevator begins its descent, Tony slips two fingers under your chin and turns your face towards him, concern muting the typical sparkle in his olive green eyes. “Are you really upset with me, babe?”

You count the seconds ticking away in your head, relishing in the way he squirms under your stern gaze, before relenting at second fourteen. “No, you big dummy,” you say with a nudge to his side. “She’s hot.”

Tony lifts your hand to his mouth and presses his lips against your wedding band before asserting, “You’re hotter.”

Curling your free hand around his tie, you tug him closer and land a sound kiss on his lips. The elevator dings to indicate you’ve reached the parking garage, and you reluctantly release your husband from your grip with a satisfied smile and a murmured, “I’ve taught you so well.”

__________

ADJ Tags 🖤 @bakugouswh0r3

#anthony dinozzo x you #anthony dinozzo x y/n #anthony dinozzo imagine #anthony dinozzo x reader #anthony dinozzo fanfiction #anthony dinozzo #tony dinozzo x y/n #tony dinozzo x you #tony dinozzo x reader #tony dinozzo imagine #tony dinozzo fanfiction #tony dinozzo #ncis reader insert #ncis x reader #ncis imagine #ncis fanfiction #ncis

[greyeyedmonster-18]

i can see you (up against the wall with me)

(i haven't slammed repeat on a song in awhile, I Can See You from Speak Now (Taylors Version) is a certified banger and this...slipped out.

please enjoy a slytherin! sirius, wolfstar au)

-

Remus had initially approached this Herbology assignment as a business arrangement, nothing more, nothing left, completely annoyed and frustrated at being paired with Sirius Black. But in a NEWT class so small, many of his classmates dropping out after sixth year and realizing the work required and that Herbology wasn't, in fact, an easy O as they had anticipated, leaving the class nearly empty.

Just Remus

A few Hufflepuffs, a Ravenclaw by the name of Turpin.

and Sirius Black.

With his stupid handsome face and dark curly hair and casually cool, effortlessly aloof expression. Sirius looked as if he had never worried about a damn thing in his life and Remus pulled at the threads of his uniform every opportunity he got. Though, it was much harder to do so with his arms elbow deep in a potted plant, Sirius beside him writing up the report due within the next few days.

"How does the soil feel?" Sirius asked.

"Like soil, bloody disgusting..."

The corners of Sirius's mouth turned up slightly, not even enough to make a crease in his face. Barely there. But Remus saw it, and oh.

"Clay, sandy, loam..."

"That's a made up word," Remus said, trying to focus on kneading the bottom of the plant gently to check for any stray moving roots or insects, cursing himself for taking Herbology in the first place. Even if the years of gardening with his Mum had paid off finally.

"We've been learning about loam for two weeks."

"I said the word sounded made up, not the concept," Remus countered and the corners of Sirius's mouth twitched again. He shook his head and Remus's heart flipped, watching a stray dark curl fall out of the ponytail Sirius was wearing and fall in front of his eyes.

Oh.

"So conceptually, is it loam or...?"

"Clay loam," Remus told him, gently setting the plant back in the pot, and wiping his hands on a nearby towel. He watched as Sirius's eyebrows drew together softly, as he concentrated on the questions in front of him, writing out each word carefully in neat cursive. Despite wanting it to be a business arrangement--Remus assuming the worst from a boy in Slytherin with the last name Black who scarcely spoke to anyone in school and hadn't given anyone a reason to trust him, half of his peers walking around with marks on their arms--the plan had failed miserably. Not only did Remus realize Black was exceptionally adept at Herbology, but he was pleasant. He was easy to work with. He was exceptionally good looking and Remus found himself staring every moment he could, desperate for more. Imagining what it would be like to have Sirius's clipped fingernails and broad hands palming the back of his neck and touching his hipbones.

I’ve been watching you for ages and I spend my time trying not to feel it

Remus was beside himself, and delusional, trying to find excuses to talk to Sirius once the business arrangement was over, and feeling foolish as he did so.

Except.

Sirius would brush past him in the hallway, a broad shoulder skimming against his during passing periods and Remus wanted to taste the aftershave on Sirius's neck.

Sirius would send him whisper smiles in Herbology.

In Potions.

Every opportunity for a glance in each others direction became an opportunity for a secret smile, or a wink, grey eyes twinkling with nothing but trouble. Thats all Sirius Black was. Trouble. Not someone Remus wanted to mix himself up with in his final year, in the beginnings of a war. There was already talk of secret societies being orchestrated by Dumbledore; already reports in the Daily Prophet and resources for people who wanted to help. Remus knew he already had a target on his back as a werewolf, people unsure whether to trust him and getting involved with Sirius Black wouldn't help the cause any.

But then Remus would look up from his textbook in the library, and see Sirius Black at a table alone, looking straight back. A quick tilt of a dark eyebrow, asking--no daring-- Remus to move. Remus tapped his fingers on the desk, not breaking eye contact, the two engaged in the staring contest of the century, both determined not to break. He was just about to swallow his pride, his ego, and surrender to bravery when Sirius stood up from his table, casually walking over to Remus, silver and green tie loose around his neck, somehow still managing to look refined and not disheveled like the rest of the population.

Remus opened his mouth when Sirius got within earshot, to attempt a greeting. A hey. A I'm losing the ability to control myself. A stop looking at me like that, please.

A what would you do if they never found us out?

Sirius put his hand flat on the table, looking down at Remus, tilting his head to the side, "Hey."

"Hello."

"We make a good team."

"What?"

"We got an O on our Mimulus aurantiacus."

"Oh. Yeah," Remus said lamely, scooting back in his chair to avoid having to strain his neck to look up at Sirius. It was too close, it was too much. Remus could see every dark eyelash and the beauty mark below Sirius's left eye; his crooked eyetooth and the planes of his face and the warmth of his skin. Remus would put money on Sirius's expanses skin being able to keep him warm, thaw every chill in Remus's body, imagining what it would be like to be pressed into a mattress underneath Sirius.

What would you do if I went to touch you now?

And then Sirius gave him that smile, the corner raising higher than it ever had and Remus's breathing hitched at the sight. This boy was beyond intoxicating, more potent than any shot of firewhiskey had had ever taken.

"Don't want to talk to me anymore, Lupin?" Sirius asked, as teasing tone in his voice, "Project over and you can't be seen with me?"

"I..what...do you want to talk about?"

"I don't. Not really."

"...So I should...mind my own business?"

"Not that either," Sirius said, and bent down lower, leaning all the way across the table and Remus could feel his face flush. It was late enough that the library was nearly empty, close to curfew and students had mostly cleared out. Madame Pince was likely in the back and closing for the evening. And then there was Sirius, with his lips skimming the shell of Remus's ear as he spoke. "Can you be quiet, Lupin?" he whispered.

"I think so."

What would you do if we never made a sound?

"Good, because Merlin knows I have not stopped thinking about you," Sirius said, standing up once more. "I'll see you outside."

I can see you, waiting down the hall for me.

The next day, Remus turned the corner out Ancient Runes, instantly spotting Sirius leaning one shoulder against the wall, his expensive leather bag over the other. The whisper smile that first caught Remus's attention flickering, as if the other boy was unable to stop it at the sight of Remus, both of them remembering the night before.

An abandoned hallway, just shy of the library, hidden behind tapestries and staircases, the two of them ignoring both bells of warning for curfew.

One of Remus's hands above his head, plastered to the wall with the rest of of his body as Sirius kissed him roughly. Endlessly. Wanting to steal every attempt at conversation and word Remus could possibly offer and Remus let him. Sirius Black did not kiss nice and Remus wouldn't have had it any other way.

I can see you, up against the wall with me.

It was bold.

Exhilarating.

Remus finally answering Sirius's eyebrow of a dare and pushing robes off the other boys shoulders, throwing them to the ground, their feet caught in a heap of dark fabric. Stepping on toes and unable to get enough of each other.

"How quiet can you be, Lupin?" Sirius asked, his voice low. His hands on the buckle of Remus's belt.

"Very."

"Let's see about that..."

They keep watchful eyes on us

It's best that we move fast and keep quiet

Remus inhaled as he walked by Sirius with his friends, shoulders brushing, fingers touching for the tiniest of moments, the two of them lost in a fantasy together. Sirius cocked his head to the side, just enough for Remus to see the deep red bruise on his neck poking out of the top of his shirt collar.

What would you do, baby, if you knew? That I can see you.

#sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar #oh look #i can see you is a certified banger #and i couldn't help myself.

[chestcongestion]

Demon-to-Demon Ch.4/5: Ha//zbin Ho/tel

Warnings: Contagion, Mess (a lot of mess this time), Plot thread might be too close to current events for comfort even if it has nothing to do with current events

Word count: 7,312

This one managed to get away from me, I got a little too excited but this is definitely going to be 4/5 I think, and 5 might be even longer than this one. Thanks again for all of the support, this has been incredibly fun to write. Hope you enjoy ^^!

“G’Mbordi’g Pentagramb City… Ih’pshiEWWW… I’b Katie Killjoy,” the usually well-put-together anchorwoman for 666 News delivered her introductory line without an ounce of energy, her voice hoarse and her consonants butchered by her clogged sinuses. 

Instead of filming the daily news from the 666 News station desk, Katie was tucked up in bed, wearing a lilac nightgown with her hair clipped to keep it out of her face, and was recording herself delivering the day’s news by using a slightly out-of-focus camcorder and a VoxTech Television Network intern’s laptop. 

“I’b live frob mby… Yihh-hihh’TschiEwW!...Ih’TSHiEWWW…mby house to update you all on day number 24 of ‘The Red Spread’,” Katie said, her fingertips twitching as she fought back the urge to pull her blankets up to her chest, “Statistics are sayi’g that… SnFF!... arou’d 93% of the Pentagramb is currently infected. So far there have been no recorded complicatio’ds or deaths… and activity across the city has come to a halt …Ih’TschiEWW! ‘Tshhiew! ‘TSHIEWW!”  

“93% of the Pentagram…” Vaggie muttered to herself as she peeked at the television from behind the sofa, “It’s been almost a month now… how are so many people getting sick?” 

“I think a better question would be why we ain’t gettin’ any better,” Angel croaked, dabbing at his drippy nostrils with a tissue, blowing his ‘nose’ into the tissue with a quiet honk, shivering slightly under his blanket. 

“Iih’pzZshIEW! Ih’pshuue! Ih’pshew!” Niffty sneezed from her bundle of blankets on the floor, drowsily running the back of her wrist across her face to swipe at the dense mucus leaking from her sinuses, “That’s disgusti’g… IH’PSHHIEW!”  

“Bless you!” Charlie said enthusiastically, nervously handing Niffty a package of wipes so she could clean off her face, “It could be worse… at least nobody’s in any serious danger.” 

“Yeah- snrK!- worst thing we’d ndeed ta’ worry about is runnin’ outta tissues,” Angel scoffed, tossing a soggy tissue into the trash can near the sofa, looking in front of him and smiling at Husk, who was sleeping peacefully while draped across his body. 

“It’s still concerning, this has never happened before, and then out of nowhere something incredibly contagious manages to tag almost the entire city and clings to them for weeks?!” Vaggie pondered, “I dunno, it just feels like trouble.” 

“You oughtta go out and investigate, since you’re immune,” Angel proposed- almost sarcastically- while stroking Husk between his ears, “A-ah… Ah’kshieww! Ah’kzxhhtt! Ah’kzZsChew!...’Shhew! ‘SHIIEW!” 

“Bless you,” Charlie said, brandishing the thermometer and holding it out for Angel to take, watching him slide it under his tongue, “It is kind of worrying, but maybe everyone’s finally turning a corner!”  

The thermometer beeped, and Angel squinted his eyes at the reading before sighing and handing it to Niffty, “Sti-i-ihh…Sti-IiH’Kshew!...snff! Still got a fever… 102,” he said, swallowing harshly against his throbbing, achy throat, the sudden pain making him cough. 

Niffty pulled the thermometer out of her mouth and sighed, “Still 101,” she said, emptying her packed sinuses with a gurgling blow into a handful of tissues. 

Angel quietly grabbed the thermometer off of the coffee table, shooting a glance at Husk, “Kitty Cat… wakey-wakey, we gotta take your temperature, and if you don’t get up we gotta do it vet style,” he whispered playfully, scratching behind Husk’s left ear. 

Husk let out a hoarse cough, “You are not stickin’ that thing up my ass,” he grumbled, opening his mouth and letting Angel slide the thermometer under his tongue, removing it thirty seconds later once it beeped. 

“102,” Angel announced, leaning forward to kiss Husk’s forehead. 

“Okay… only one left,” Charlie said, turning and brandishing the ear thermometer, looking at Alastor’s curled up, unconscious form on the loveseat. Alastor’s breathing was noisy, the phlegm sitting in his chest rumbled on every inhale and crackled on every exhale. 

Carefully, Charlie slipped the ear thermometer into Alastor’s right ear and pulled it out without disturbing him from his slumber, “104,” she sighed, pressing her cool palm against Alastor’s burning forehead, “I don’t know why his fever keeps getting so high… we’re all out of medicine.” 

After a brief silence, Alastor’s breath audibly caught in his chest, a bubble of sputum popping at the top of his windpipe and tickling his throat. 

Still asleep, Alastor began to cough- a wet, chesty cough muffled by his clenched teeth that were still forced into his trademark grin. The crackle of mucus in his chest grew noisier and noisier as congestion got trapped at the bottom of his trachea, strangling him and rousing him slowly from his sleep. 

Angel held back a gag, “Oh that is nasty,” he whispered, shuddering at the sound. 

Husk’s ears twitched, and he held a hand over his mouth, his lungs aching out of the sliver of sympathy he felt for his boss.

“I don’t know how to help him… it sounds like he’s choking,” Charlie muttered, biting her fingernails. 

“I got it,” Angel said with a dense sniffle, getting up from the sofa and swaying on his feet, feeling deeply lightheaded but determined to help. Kneeling down next to the loveseat, Angel shook Alastor until he was completely awake. 

Alastor stared at Angel with vacant red eyes, the rumbling in his lungs quieting down as he channeled all of his focus into breathing through his nose.

“Smiles, up here, can you see me?” Angel asked, waving his hand in front of Alastor’s face, noticing that Alastor’s pupils followed his hand on a slight delay. 

Alastor nodded, a rough inhale through his nose making his clogged sinuses squeak in a way that sounded painful. 

“I’m gonna help you get that crap outta your chest so you can breathe, okay?” Angel asked, pinching Alastor’s face and turning his head upwards until their eyes met. 

Alastor nodded, still noticeably drowsy, blinking rapidly as his eyes watered and a weak cough echoed from deep in his lungs. His eyelids drooped slightly and his pupils wandered, desperate but exhausted as his body went slack to conserve energy… and oxygen.  

Angel pulled Alastor upright by the collar of his pajamas, and sat behind him, one hand firmly cradling the radio demon’s quivering chest, one wound back with a splayed hand, and the other two holding onto his thighs for stability. “Okay, open your mouth- snff!- breathe in, as deep as you can,” he instructed. 

Alastor choked back another coughing fit, taking a deep, wheezy, desperate inhale upon Angel’s request. 

“Good,” Angel said, roughly clearing his throat, “I’m gonna pat your back, all you gotta do is focus on coughing that shit up, got it?”  

Alastor nodded, held up his handkerchief to his mouth, and began to cough, the fit sounding infinitely more productive with the help of Angel patting his back. His eyes watered and his throat felt raw, and he was taking short pauses in between coughs to gasp for air, but Alastor could feel it working, the burdensome weight on his lungs was leaving. 

After six long minutes, Alastor let out a final wet cough and spat into his handkerchief, his airways feeling a million times clearer and his handkerchief damp with sputum. 

“There we go,” Angel sighed, wiping sweat from his brow and staggering over to the sofa, getting comfortable again, “Fuck, that was a workout…Ah-Hah-Hahh’ksheww! Hah’kshieww! ‘Ksheww! Ha-aah’Kshiewww!” 

“Thank you,” Alastor croaked in a hushed voice, wiping off his mouth and reclining on his loveseat, his breathing still slightly heavy and his face still flushed. 

Charlie stared at Angel, admiration shimmering in her eyes, not only at the lanky spider’s selflessness, but at the impressive skill she had never seen anyone perform in her 200 years of living, “How did you do that? That was amazing!” she cheered.

“Don’t mention it,” Angel replied, “Somethin’ I learned back on Earth that I never thought would come in handy.”

“Could you show me? I wanna be able to help,” Charlie requested, bouncing on her heels. 

“Sure,” Angel said with a shrug, “I just cleared Fancy Pants out for a while-” Angel paused, pressing a hand to Husk’s back and feeling the low rumble of congestion trapped in his lungs, “-but Husk’ll do fine.” 

Husk sighed, too drowsy to resist whatever Angel was plotting, letting the spider adjust him until he was sitting upright in Angel’s lap. 

“It works just fine if they’re on their stomach or lyin’ down, but I do better when they’re sittin’ up,” Angel explained, “You hold ‘em up by their chest with one hand like this, and either get ‘em to take a deep breath, or just start whackin’ until you knock somethin’ loose.” 

Angel stuck out his tongue, narrowing his eyelids to focus, and began patting Husk’s upper back softly, one pat after the other in rapid succession, as though he was attempting to speed through burping a baby. 

Suddenly, Husk’s eyes widened and he held a hand up to his mouth, letting loose a productive-sounding cough that snowballed into a coughing fit as Angel’s gentle thumping slowed down. 

“You just keep goin, not too fast that you tire yourself out-” Angel paused, swallowing against his sore throat, “- but not too slow, until-” 

Husk let out a particularly nasty cough and plucked three tissues out of the box on the sofa, spitting out whatever Angel had managed to unearth and tossing the soiled tissues in the trash, “Didn’t even know that was in there,” he muttered, “HhD’TschHUHH! HrR’SCHUHHH!” 

“There we go, it’s pretty easy,” Angel said with a triumphant smirk, nestling back underneath his blanket and repositioning Husk so the bartender was reclined along the length of Angel’s body and tucked under a second blanket. 

“You make it look so easy… but I think I’ve got it… where did you learn to do this, anyways?” Charlie asked. 

“Eh, my Pops burned through a value carton of smokes a day, if ya didn’t whack the crud outta him he’d choke on it,” Angel said with a yawn, fighting back a violent shiver as he curled up against Husk for warmth, “Ah’T-SshhiewW! H-hah’TSHHHIEW!... fuck…snff!”

“Bless you! Okay, on that note, I’m gonna go out and get you guys some more medicine… Vaggie, d’you think you’ll be okay keeping an eye on them while I’m gone?” Charlie asked.  

“I’ll be fine, just be careful, Sweetie,” Vaggie replied, kissing Charlie on the cheek. 

“I will,” Charlie said with a reassuring smile, “Anyone need anything specific?” 

Angel reached into his chest fluff and pulled out a wad of folded-up bills, handing Charlie $100 in $20 bills, “Popsicles, please… snff!... my throat’s killin’ me,” he requested, running his soft fingertips along the length of his neck and swallowing harshly. 

Charlie hesitantly took the money and stashed it in her pocket, “Gotcha, I’ll be back soon, see you guys later!” she said with a smile, waving the group goodbye and rushing out of the hotel’s front door. 

Vaggie sighed, “I need to check on something, behave yourselves while I’m gone,” she said, turning on her heel and leaving the parlor. 

“Can we watch Cannibal Cooking with Jeffrey Dahmer?” Niffty asked, kicking her feet, “I’m bored- snff!- I’d clean but my legs hurt every time I try to stand up.”  

“You always-” Angel paused as his hoarse voice fizzled out, forcing him to roughly clear his throat, “- always wanna watch weird shit. I didn’t thig’k anybody watched that show.” 

“I like it,” Alastor piped up from the loveseat, wrapped tightly in his blankets and attempting to suppress a shiver, “it’s one of the thi’gs on televisio’d I can tolerate…snff! Snff-snff!” 

Angel rolled his eyes, changing the channel and leaning back against the arm of the sofa, massaging Husk’s ears with his slender fingertips, “Blow your nose,” he said to Alastor, tucking Husk underneath his blanket and stifling a yawn. 

Alastor noisily blew his nose into his handkerchief, the release of air triggering a dense, congested-sounding cough, “Uch… H-heh-Ep-shiewww! Hehh’Tshhiew! Heh’ktshiew! Hehp’TshHieWW!” 

“Y’know… snff!...this is the longest I’ve been off work,” Angel paused, swallowing harshly against his sore, scratchy throat, “Which completely sucks… I can’t do anythin’ cause I can barely stand up without fallin’ over.” 

“Could be worse,” Husk commented from underneath the blankets, his face buried in Angel’s torso, “HrR’SHUHHH! Hnn’KTSHHOO! Huh’kTSshEWW!” 

“That’s true,” Angel said, nestling into the blankets and cuddling Husk tighter, his eyelids drooping, “You two enjoy the show… I’b gonna take a nap…” 

Angel quickly fell asleep, his and Husk’s heavy snoring creating peaceful background noise for Niffty and Alastor as they watched Cannibal Cooking together. 

“Iih’pshuu! Ih’pshew! ‘Scuse be… SnFF!...Look, he’s scoring the flesh on the leg before he massages in his dry rub, that’s amazihh…ihh…IH’PSHEW!” Niffty whispered, staring at the screen in complete awe while blindly grasping around for a tissue to wipe her face. 

“It is amazi’g isn’t it?” Alastor replied, rolling onto his stomach and kicking his legs, ignoring the deep rumble of congestion in his chest that was jostled by his sudden movement, “It’s such a big leg… I wonder where he gets themb.”

‘Rosie loves this program… I wonder how she’s fairing, I haven’t had the chance to speak with her… I miss her,’ Alastor thought, letting loose a wistful sigh that quickly became a heavy cough. 

On the Southeastern side of the Pentagram, Charlie strolled cautiously through the empty streets, a reusable bag of medicine and groceries slung over her shoulder. 

“I think I took a wrong turn on the way back to the hotel… I’m too far south… in fact, this place seems familiar,” Charlie pondered, looking at the red mist that filled the air, the particles tickling her nose, “Snff!... this stuff smells like flowers! Wonder what it is…” 

Continuing on her walk, Charlie smiled upon finding a familiar sign, “Ohhh! I’m in Cannibal Town, I almost didn’t recognize it with this red fog… weird,” she said to herself, listening to the harsh whistle of the wind echoing through the empty roads, “Since I’m here… I kind of wanna see Rosie.” 

Tucking her shopping bag away behind a bush, Charlie began the short walk to Rosie’s Emporium. 

“The streets are so empty… nobody’s gonna take it… it’s kind of creepy how there’s no one outside, actually,” Charlie whispered to herself as she knocked on the emporium’s door, jumping slightly when a short robot answered, “H-hello!” 

“Rosie’s Emporium is on temporary hiatus from any business inquiries, can I help redirect you to other resources?” The robot asked, blinking at Charlie with a sweet expression.

“I’m actually here to visit Rosie… not on business, just as a friend,” Charlie said, leaning down to get on the robot’s level, “Can I see her?” 

The robot paused, before nodding, “Follow me,” it said, letting Charlie inside and leading her up two flights of stairs and down a long hallway, eventually leading to two ornate double doors that were decorated with roses- the door handles were even designed to look like thorny rose stems. 

“i-Ih…IH’PSHEWWWW! Ih’pshhhiew! Ih’PssHEW!” squeaky sneezing could be heard behind the door, followed by a long, damp sniffle. 

Charlie frowned, she knew from the news that it was more likely than not that Rosie caught the Red Spread virus like everyone else, but hearing her suffering- no matter how mild- still hurt. 

“Miss Rosie, you have a visitor,” the robot announced, knocking on the double doors. 

“Cobe idd- SnFFF!- Euch… Ih…I-ihh…IH’P-shiewww! Ih’psheww! Ih’psSHIEW!” Rosie croaked, her voice noticeably hoarse and her consonants garbled. 

Charlie pushed open the double doors to Rosie’s bedroom and found the overlord in question tucked into bed with her duvet up to her lower ribcage. Rosie’s gorgeous satin bedspread was littered with used tissues, and the trash can next to her bed was absolutely overflowing with them. 

Rosie sat up in bed, the robot rushing to her side to prop her up using some of her pillows, “Thag’k you Roland- SnFF!- such a ndice boy…IHH’PSHHIEW!” she croaked, patting the robot’s hair with her slender fingers before she noticed her visitor, “Charlie! Oh isn’t this a pleasadt surprise- snrkk!- you’re a sight for sore eye sockets, girl- snFF!- I’d idvite you to cobe sit but the last thi’g you want is to catch this… IHH’KSHHIEW! Ih’pshhuhh! Ih’psheww! ‘Tshhhieew!” 

Charlie blinked, “Oh no, it’s fine, I’d love to… I think I’m immune somehow, if I’ve managed to beat out almost the entire city, I think I’ve got good odds,” she laughed. 

Rosie’s feverishly jovial expression drooped, and she raised a curious eyebrow, “I’b sorry… wha?” she asked. 

“Yeah, only 7% of Pentagram City is still healthy, everyone else is sick… they’re calling it ‘The Red Spread’ on the news,” Charlie explained calmly, “Did you not know that?” 

“Wh- Uhb… No?!” Rosie replied, gesturing to the wall opposite her bed, where a beautiful replica of  ‘A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte’ was hung in place of a television, “I’b ndot exactly the kinda gal to keep up with the ndews-snff!-” Rosie pinched a tissue to her face, blowing her ‘nose’ and tossing the tissue on top of the pile surrounding her trash can, “It mbust spread fast… it’s ondly been a few days.” 

Charlie let out a nervous laugh, suddenly realizing that Rosie’s bedroom had no windows, “About that…” she began. 

Rosie’s grey skin practically turned white, leaving nothing but the vibrant unnatural flush on her cheeks, her ‘nose’, and the undersides of her puffy eyelids, “Charlie… doll… what day is it?” she asked.  

“It’s… the 27th,” Charlie said, reading the calendar on her phone. 

Rosie tugged at her slightly-messy hair with her manicured fingers, giggling nervously until her laughter devolved into a hoarse cough, “I started feeli’g sick on the 3rd…” she muttered to herself, “The overlord mbeeti’g was on the 1st.” 

Charlie cautiously inched closer to Rosie, wrapping the cannibal overlord in a hug, wincing internally at the heat radiating from Rosie’s body- especially her face- and the feeling of her exposed skin, which was clammy and damp with sweat, “I know this has to be frightening… are you okay?” she asked, rubbing Rosie’s back with a splayed hand. 

“Everythi’g started getti’g fuzzy,” Rosie whispered, her voice still noticeably hoarse, “I’ve just been sleepi’g and talkin’ to that damn robot… for almost a month.” 

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Charlie asked.  

Rosie quietly wiped a few stray tears away with her thumb, inching away from the hug and composing herself, “Help mbe get outta this bed,” she chuckled, swinging her slender legs out from beneath her duvet and sheets, “I’b starvin’ and I ndeed to be somewhere with a window.” 

Charlie grabbed hold of Rosie’s hand, gently pulling her onto her feet as she staggered upon leaving her bed, nearly falling to her knees before bracing herself against Charlie for support, “There we go, careful,” she said with a reassuring smile, helping Rosie walk out of her bedroom one step at a time. 

Eventually, Charlie got Rosie all the way downstairs into her kitchen, sitting her down at the counter, “There we go, now you can see outside,” she said. 

“I didn’t realize that red shit made it all the way over here- snff!- wonder if it’s gotten a’dywhere else,” Rosie pondered, scrubbing at her face to stave off a building itch, “Iih’pshhhIHH! Ih’PSHHEW! Ih’SsHhiEWWW!...Shit, I forgot to bri’g tissues.” 

Charlie opened her mouth, about to offer to get them for Rosie, only to pause as Rosie whistled, summoning the little robot that greeted Charlie at the door. 

“Can I help you, Miss Rosie?” 

“Such a polite little thi’g- snff!- so helpful,” Rosie crooned, petting him on his head, “I ndeed a box of tiihh…IH’TshhIHH! IH’TShhiEww!...tissues, Roland.” 

Roland zipped out of the room, returning promptly with a box of tissues, setting them down on the counter next to Rosie and waiting patiently at her side while she blew her ‘nose’, soiling three tissues in the process. 

“Do you need anything else?” Roland asked, a dutiful look in his glowing eyes. 

Rosie shook her head, waving Roland off with a smile and slowly pushing herself onto her feet once he left the room, her knees trembling underneath her black satin nightgown, “Huh… this bug took more outta me than I thought… I can barely stand on my own two feet,” she croaked, letting go of the counter and taking a deep breath as she slowly inched towards her sink, filling up a tea kettle with water and putting it on the stove. 

“You probably just didn’t notice because you’ve been in bed resting for so long,” Charlie proposed, wincing when Rosie let out a hoarse cough, “While we’re waiting for your water to boil… maybe we should take your temperature.” 

“Probably… but if I sit down I’m nervous I won’t be able to get back up,” Rosie chuckled, her nervous laughter quickly devolving into a coughing fit that left her winded, “Phew… sorry.” 

“We can take it while you’re standing,” Charlie said, nearly jumping out of her skin when she noticed Roland had silently appeared next to her, holding a mercury thermometer with a kind smile, “Thanks, Roland.” 

Roland nodded in silence before disappearing into the other room. 

Rosie gently removed the thermometer from Charlie’s hands, giving it a good shake before placing it under her tongue, swaying on her heels and sniffling occasionally, desperate to squash a furious tickle in her sinuses that was threatening to turn into a sneeze. 

By the time the thermometer was ready to be removed, Rosie was desperately scrubbing at her face to keep from sneezing and launching the thermometer across the room, quickly turning away when Charlie pulled it out of her mouth, “I-iih-IHH’PSHHHIEW! Hih’TSsCHHIEWWW! Ih’psSHiIEWW! Ih’pshhiew! ‘TssHIEW! I-IH’pSHHHEW!” she sneezed rapidly, unable to cover the germy spray with her hands paralyzed by the fit. 

Charlie squinted to locate the stopping point of the mercury while Rosie noisily emptied her sinuses and groaned at the friction hurting her raw nostrils, the sensitive skin becoming red, chapped, and shiny with moisture from the slow trickle of mucus. 

“Well, dond’t keep mbe id suspense- snff, snFF!- what’s it say?” Rosie asked, “SnfF- ih… I-IHH’KSHHEWW!...’Scuse be.” 

“Almost 103,” Charlie announced, pressing the back of her hand against the side of Rosie’s neck, and then resting it against each of the overlord’s slightly bony cheeks, feeling the searing heat radiating from her skin, “You definitely feel hot… and that would explain why you’re so weak and dizzy.” 

Rosie shrugged as she moved her whistling kettle away from the heat, “Can’t argue with that,” she croaked, bracing herself against the counter and grabbing a mug from her cabinet, setting it down next to the kettle and pawing around until she located a box of tea bags, placing two at the bottom of the mug. 

“So… when did you hire Roland? He seems sweet,” Charlie piped up randomly, attempting to make conversation as Rosie sniffled and prepared her drink- adding a generous squirt of honey, a bit of lemon juice, and a refrigerated vial of blood into her mug before filling it up with hot water. 

“Oh I didn’t hire him, he was a gift… I let a few of these little incubi come to Cannibal Town to do a few polls for a month, and when they left I got a big package in the mail from their boss… apparently these robots are popular for-” Rosie paused, letting out a guttural barking cough and rubbing her throat, “-sorry… popular for other purposes, but I’m not that kinda girl, so he mostly did little errands up until I caught this bug. He’s been very helpful.” 

“Oh! I thought he looked a little familiar! He’s one of the robots a friend of my dad makes! You took off his little hat,” Charlie giggled. 

“Thought he looked nicer without it,” Rosie replied, taking a few big swigs of her drink and sighing with relief, turning away to cough, the cough still sounding dry and deep, scraping against her raw throat, “Sorry-” another cough, “-think all this talkin’ is wearin’ my throat out.” 

Charlie frowned, watching Rosie’s legs begin to wobble, and approaching Rosie to offer a supportive arm when it looked like she was going to collapse, “I think you should get back in bed,” she proposed, “You look tired.” 

Rosie opened her mouth to object, but vibrated from an intense shiver that seemed to come from her core, her sharp teeth chattering and the flush on her cheeks practically glowing, “I am tired… a-and I’m cold,” she replied, her voice almost a hoarse whimper as she leaned against Charlie for support, her legs shaking harder than the rest of her, “I don’t w-wanna go back to bed… don’t wanna lose track of time again.” 

Charlie nodded, “Let’s get you set up on your sofa,” she offered, walking Rosie out of her kitchen and into her den- the room in her residential space attached to the emporium that actually had a television instead of a giant painting. 

Rosie collapsed onto the large velvet sofa, still vibrating with chills as Charlie helped move her into a more comfortable reclined position, propping her up with a few pillows and draping a heavy throw blanket over her shaking form, “Th-thank you,” Rosie sighed, relaxing slightly as the soft blanket brushed against her sensitive skin.

“Of course, I’m happy to help,” Charlie replied with a smile, finger-combing Rosie’s sweat-dampened locks away from her face, “I’m sorry you’re so sick… do you have any medicine?” 

Rosie sniffled, “I think I have some fever reducer from when one of my teeth got infected,” she said with a yawn, whistling for Roland, who whizzed into the den holding a bottle of colorful pills. 

Roland gently shook the pill bottle after popping off the top, sliding two pills out into his hand and letting Rosie pop them into her mouth, swallowing them without water, which made her cough. 

“Thank you, Roland, you’re very helpful!” Charlie said, gently petting Roland on the head before he rushed away, leaving the room and coming back with a freshly-filled hot water bottle, setting it down in Rosie’s lap underneath her blanket, the warmth making Rosie relax. 

“Mmm… that feels good,” Rosie yawned, her eyes beginning to droop as she hid a hoarse cough behind her wrist, “I think I’m gonna take a nap- ihh-Ih’PssSHIEW!- I’m exhausted, but I appreciate you visiting, Charlie.” 

“It was my pleasure, I’m glad I was able to help, I hope you feel better!” Charlie cheered, giving Rosie a reassuring pat before she fell asleep, turning on her heel and leaving Rosie’s Emporium with a spring in her step. 

Grabbing her shopping bag from its hiding place, Charlie began the trek back to the hotel- this time in the right direction- while taking deep breaths to enjoy the pleasant scent of the red mist hanging in the air in Cannibal Town. 

“I’ve never smelled something this nice before… it’s like perfume,” Charlie said to herself, “Snff!- it’s such a pretty color, too.” 

Absent-minded and focused on getting back to the hotel before the popsicles she’d purchased melted, Charlie swiped the back of her hand underneath her nose, sniffling infrequently as a slight tickle began to build in her sinuses. 

Thirty minutes had passed by the time Charlie arrived at the hotel, opening the front door with one hand and scrubbing at her nose with the other, “I’m back!” she announced, setting down her reusable shopping bag on a nearby table. 

“Welcome back, Sweetie,” Vaggie greeted in a hushed voice, hopping on her tip-toes until her face was at level with Charlie’s neck so she could pepper the area with affectionate kisses, “You were gone for a while, was the store busy?” 

“Nah, I just got lost and realized I was in Cannibal Town, decided to pay the leader of the cannibals a visit- snf!- she’s sick too,” Charlie sighed, “Have any trouble holding down the fort while I was gone?” 

“Nope, they’ve all been sleeping like rocks since you left, Niffty even tired herself out, look,” Vaggie snickered, gesturing over to the parlor, where Niffty was sprawled out on her back in her nest of blankets, snoring softly and holding a purring KeeKee as though she were a stuffed animal. 

Angel was curled up on the sofa, snoring quietly, occasionally letting out a hoarse, throat-scraping cough or two before settling back into his comfortable slumber. Husk could be heard snoring like a busted lawnmower from his comfortable hiding place underneath the blankets and nestled between Angel’s legs, his clogged sinuses vibrating with every inhale. 

Alastor, from his position on the loveseat, was fast asleep, his usual grin diminished to a slight smile, and his lungs rumbling from congestion once again. 

“Oh- snff!- I got this,” Charlie whispered, leaning over the back of the loveseat and bracing one hand against Alastor’s chest before using the other to quietly pat his upper back. 

Two minutes later, Alastor- still asleep- opened his mouth to unleash a crackling wet cough, swallowing the sputum that he’d managed to bring up…much to Charlie’s chagrin and Vaggie’s violent disgust. 

“Euch,” Charlie muttered, fingers twitching near Alastor’s head, wanting to give the Radio Demon a reassuring rub between his fluffy ears, but ultimately deciding to respect the fact that if he wasn’t subdued by fever, Alastor would hate being touched, “At least you coughed it up… snff!” 

Vaggie turned to face her girlfriend, “Charlie… you okay?” she asked.

“Mhm! Why do you ask?” Charlie asked, her pale cheeks flushing pink. 

Vaggie glanced at Charlie, looking at the stream of moisture trickling down her girlfriend’s face, “Your nose is running…” she said, handing Charlie a couple of folded-up tissues. 

“Oh! Thanks for telling me- snff!- it’s a little itchy,” Charlie rambled, wiping off her nose and wrinkling it to fight off the building itch. 

Vaggie focused her eye on Charlie’s nose, watching her wrinkle and wiggle it like a rabbit in between wetter and lengthier sniffles. Charlie swiped and scrubbed at the trickle of cloudy fluid leaving her nose until she gave up and pinched a few tissues over her nostrils instead.

“I-snFF!- I think I’m gonna take a shower, I’ll be back,” Charlie said, vanishing upstairs, leaving Vaggie to her own devices once again. 

“Well, I don’t feel like waking them up to give them the medicine yet… or staring at them while they sleep,” Vaggie pondered to herself, pulling out her phone and scrolling through some of her text messages, opening a link to a recipe and smiling, “I know something I can do to help… if I hurry I can be done before Charlie’s out of the shower.” 

An hour later, Charlie- freshly showered and in her pajamas- entered the parlor to find that Angel and Husk were awake, and that a heavenly smell was wafting into the parlor from the kitchen. 

“Eyy, look-” Angel paused to cough, “-look who it is, welcome back…Hah’TssHIEW! A-ah’TsSHHEW!” he said, his voice noticeably rougher-sounding. 

“I’ve been- snff!- back for a bit, you guys were asleep, though,” Charlie chuckled, leaning over the back of the sofa and sneakily grabbing two tissues, wiping the underside of her nose, “H-hihh- how are you guys feeling?” 

“Like shit,” Angel replied, stroking the back of Husk’s head from underneath the blankets, raising a fist to his mouth and letting out a heavy barking cough. 

“Oh! I a-ahh… almost forgot about the medicine,” Charlie cheered, rummaging through her shopping bag and handing Angel a bag of cough drops, “These should help.” 

Angel nodded, “Thanks,” he said, unwrapping a purple cough drop and sliding it into his mouth, sucking on it and smiling as the soothing solution coated his throat. 

“Hh’kzzht! Hh’Tshhh! Hih’ptshh! Hnk’tsh!” 

Husk popped his head out from underneath the blankets Angel had draped over them both, “Gesundheit,” he said, still a bit groggy. 

“I didn’t sneeze, Pretty Kitty,” Angel laughed. 

“Hhnk’Tshh! Hh’Ddtsh! Hnk’zZt! Hhnk’tchew!” 

“You didn’t, but somebody is,” Husk muttered, his sensitive ears twitching, “You alright over there, Princess?” 

Charlie sheepishly moved her hands away from her runny nose, clasping them behind her back, “Me? Yeah, I’m fine! I didn’t sneeze, I’m okay!” she said, bouncing on her heels and struggling to ignore the moisture leaking from her nostrils, “Hh’Ktshh! ‘Tshh! ‘Kzxhtt!” 

Husk’s ears twitched again, “You sure you didn’t?” he asked, staring at Charlie with a knowing expression, noticing that the princess’s hands were clasped over her face to cover her nose, “Why’re you coverin’ your face?” 

“Uhb… just… felt sombethi’g id mby teeth, that’s all… ndothi’g e-ehh… Eh’pchiew! Eh’pshhiew! Eh’KSsHIEW! ‘Kshhew! ‘KshHiEWW!” Charlie said, doubling over from the fit of damp sneezes, dragging the back of her wrist under her nostrils when she finished, “Euch… snRKK!” 

Husk smirked, “There we go,” he said, pleased with himself as he repositioned his head against Angel’s chest, “Gesundheit again.” 

Angel raised an eyebrow, quietly offering Charlie his box of tissues, “You alright?” he asked, his throat feeling considerably better after his cough drop finished dissolving. 

“Oh y-yeah, I’b fide!” Charlie lied, biting her lip and rubbing her upper arms, “Just…just a little chilly- Snff, snff!- satin isd’t the warbest fabric for PJs a’dyway.” 

“You sure? Cause it sounds like you got a serious traffic jam up here,” Angel said, his tone teasing and jovial to avoid stressing Charlie out, tracing a circle around his ‘nose’ with a slim finger. 

Charlie held up a finger to indicate pause, pinching a few tissues around her nostrils and letting loose a heavy, gurgling blow that soaked the tissues almost instantly, “Euch… I dunno how I got so stuffed up so fast,” she groaned, scrubbing at her nose with the heel of her palm, “E-Eh’DdTshhHEW! Eh’KSHHEW! Eh’KkzZshhiew!” 

Angel stared at Charlie’s friction-reddened nose, her papery flushed cheeks, her watery eyes, and her streaming nostrils, “Maybe you should sit down, Dollface… you’re not lookin’ too hot,” he suggested. 

Charlie nodded, walking over to the armchair and sitting down- fitting in it comfortably due to it being made for someone closer to Alastor’s height, “I don’t feel well,” she mumbled, her eyes welling up with tears and her sinuses clogging, “I thig’k I’b getti’g sick…” 

“The words ‘think’ and ‘gettin’ are both doin’ a lot of legwork in that statement,” Husk said, “Sounds like you’re plenty sick already…” 

Charlie sniffled, hugging her knees in her seat as she attempted to suppress a shiver, “Where’s Vaggie? I ndeed a hug,” she whined, dabbing at her watery eyes with a tissue before blowing her nose. 

“She’s in the kitchen around the corner I think… whatever she’s doin’ in there smells amazing,” Angel said with a sigh, “I’d get up and give ya a hug but last time I stood up I was so dizzy I nearly split my skull open on the coffee table.”  

“If I can walk over to you, will you hug mbe?” Charlie asked, her eyes pleading and a smile spreading across her face when Angel responded with a nod. Quickly, Charlie sprung to her feet, struggling to ignore the fact that she felt slightly disoriented. 

After a few careful and deliberate steps, Charlie collapsed onto her knees next to the sofa, wrapping her arms around Angel and melting into the hug, “Angel… I really don’t feel good,” she complained, “Is this how you guys have beed feeli’g- snff!- for almost a month?”  

“Pretty much,” Husk replied with a yawn. 

“It’s hittin’ you like a ton ‘a bricks,” Angel remarked, slipping one of his arms out of the hug and pressing his palm against Charlie’s forehead, lowering his eyelids upon realizing why he felt no noticeable difference, “Forgot I won’t be able to tell cause I’ve got a fever.”

“If I don’t have one now- snff!- I probably will later,” Charlie groaned, slowly pulling away from the hug and walking back over to the armchair, collapsing into her seat and hugging her knees again. 

“Alright, everyone sit up, it’s been too long since any of you had something other than drugs in your stomach so before you take any medicine, you’re gonna eat,” Vaggie instructed, walking into the parlor with five ceramic bowls in hand, setting them down one by one onto the coffee table. 

Angel and Husk slowly removed themselves from their comfortably warm tangle of feverish bodies and blankets, sliding onto the floor in front of the sofa and sitting in front of the two bowls they’d claimed so they could sit together. 

Angel reached over into the nest of blankets on the carpet and shook Niffty, who quickly woke up and began frantically looking around, sweat trickling from her hairline, “Relax, Niff, come sit… we’re eatin’,” he said, smoothing out Niffty’s bangs with his fingertips. 

Niffty quickly dusted off her nightgown and joined Angel and Husk on their side of the coffee table, briefly turning away to cover a hoarse cough with her wrist. 

Charlie- whose energy was quickly losing the battle to febrile fatigue- stood up from her curled position in the armchair and walked over to the opposite end of the coffee table. 

“Alastor, get up,” Husk muttered, his adorable feline nose twitching, “hH’RRSCHHUH! HrR’SCHUHHH! H-huhh…HNK’TCHOO!” 

Alastor stirred, peeling his head off of his arms and slowly leaving his reclined position on the loveseat, fever rouging his cheeks and exhaustion leaving dark rings under his eyes, “Mmm? What timbe is it?” he croaked, sliding off of the loveseat and joining the group on the floor, “I feel hot…” 

“Mbe too,” Charlie remarked, leaning against Alastor and sniffling. 

“Good, everyone’s awake,” Vaggie said, Razzle walking behind her and holding a large pot as she brandished a ladle, spooning a portion of something hot, fragrant, and red into each of the five bowls, “Dinner time… I’m using a soup recipe that a friend texted me once, hopefully I didn’t fuck it up.” 

“EhH’KSHHEW! Eh’TsShHIEW!- Thanks Vaggie…SnFF!” Charlie said in a far more drowsy version of her typical cheerful voice before turning away to blow her nose. 

“Of course, happy to help,” Vaggie replied, leaning down and kissing Charlie’s warm forehead before gently brushing her blonde hair out of her face, “pobrecita… I’m sorry you got sick.” 

“It’s okay- SnFF!- I’ll be fine,” Charlie replied, rubbing at her left eye before picking up her spoon and taking a cautious bite of her soup, humming with a smile on her face. Warm broth washed down Charlie’s throat and the complex spice mixture made her sinuses leak, moisture trickling down from her nostrils that she had to swipe at with a folded-up tissue. 

Alastor- a bit too loopy and out of sorts to feel comfortable using a spoon for fear of biting the metal- grabbed hold of his bowl and tilted it upwards, taking careful gulps of broth and pausing to chew on the spice-laden vegetables and shrimp without spilling a drop. Setting his half-empty bowl down onto the coffee table, he licked his lips.

“Mmm,” Alastor hummed, rocking back and forth as his mind wandered away from the present moment. 

Savoring the spices on his tongue and the comfortable warmth filling his stomach, Alastor felt himself drift away until he was surrounded by the familiar smells of his childhood home. Sitting in a squeaky chair at a wooden kitchen table and massaging his sopping wet nest of curls with a towel, Alastor silently cursed himself for the visible flecks of blood and dirt on the ankles of his drenched slacks. 

“Hh-Hih’KsSHEWW! Hih’TshHHuh!” Alastor pawed around on his person for his handkerchief- still lost in his own memories, he scoffed and attempted to fold the cloth over, wiping his runny nose on the side that wasn’t stained with someone else’s blood. Suddenly, a cool hand on his cheek made the scene feel so much more tangible, Alastor leaned into the touch and stared at a familiar figure with fever-lacquered eyes. 

‘Silly boy, I don’t know for the life of me how you’ve grown so big and so tall and so smart without a lick of good sense… be lucky all you got from rootin’ around the forest in the rain was a cold. Alastor, it’s huntin’ season… I don’t want one of them hunters to hear you step on a twig and mistake you for somethin’ they can mount as a trophy,’ 

“Mm… sorry,” Alastor mumbled, a half-whimpering apology to the blurry visage of his mother that faded away in an instant, leaving his hellbound comrades in its place. Gathering himself and blowing his nose into his handkerchief, Alastor finished eating, “This is delicious,” he said to Vaggie. 

“It’s amazin’,” Angel said after swallowing the spoonful that was in his mouth, the warm almost-too-spicy broth bringing him back to shivering in his childhood home on Long Island, his puffy winter coat hung over the radiator and a blood-soaked baseball bat leaned against the wall.

“Mmhm,” Husk muttered in agreement, savoring his last spoonful as he drifted into the comfortable memory of relaxing at his dining room table after a day of shooting loaded dice, the soothing feeling of warm broth coating his sore throat making him smile as the mirage of a familiar hand adorned with faux-jade bangles reached up to press a palm to his forehead. 

“I’ve never had someone else make something like this for me,” Niffty sniffled tearfully, not nearly feverish enough for a familiar flavor to pull her head-first into her memories, but feeling sentimental enough to swallow a spoonful of broth and remember sneakily polishing off a bowl of soup in her old kitchen to clear her sinuses and soothe her throat before erasing any evidence of illness away with makeup and traipsing into the living room to do her due diligence as a wife. 

“I’m glad you guys liked it,” Vaggie said, collecting the empty bowls and handing them to Razzle, who hurriedly took them to the kitchen and set to work washing them, “Alright, medicine and then I’m leaving you to your devices while I head to bed.” 

Thirty minutes later, all five patients were back in their respective lounging areas of the parlor, dosed up with apple-flavored fever reducer- except for Niffty- and ready to doze off. 

“Alright, see you guys in the morning, crossing my fingers that things finally turn a corner, G’night guys!” Vaggie said with a friendly wave before vanishing up the stairs. 

“‘Night,” Angel remarked, his voice drowsy as he shut his eyes, still unconsciously massaging Husk’s head from under the blankets even as he fell asleep himself. 

“Goodnight,” Alastor yawned, tugging his blanket up to his shoulders and curling up tighter on the loveseat, feeling more comfortable without febrile chills threatening to rouse him from his slumber. 

“Nighty-night!” Niffty cheered, burrowing into her nest of blankets and shutting her eye. 

“G’night Vaggie…Ehh’TsHHIEW!... I love you,” Charlie whispered, sprawling out in the armchair until she found a comfortable position, quickly falling asleep once she shut her eyes, snoring softly. 

“I love you too,” Vaggie whispered from her spot leaning over the second floor balcony before turning away to tug at her face in frustration, “If things don’t get better soon I’m gonna have to get to the bottom of this, aren’t I?” she asked no one in particular. 

“Yes, yes you are,” a familiar voice teased as it leaked out of a decorative radio that sat on a table in the hallway. 

“Go to sleep, Alastor,” Vaggie scoffed, tapping the radio with her spear on her way down the hall. 

“Way ahead of you,” the voice responded, the radio shutting off with an audible click as Alastor stirred in his sleep with a mischievous smile. 

Vaggie rolled her eyes, walking into her and Charlie’s bedroom and shutting the door behind her, leaving the hotel dark, still, and quiet save for congested snoring and the occasional hoarse cough from downstairs. 

Things weren’t exactly improving, but they were at least under control. 

#snz #snz kink #snz fic #illness kink #ha/zb/in ho/tel #gingey.rtf

[updatingranboo]

welcome to updating ranboo!

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[thebibutterflyao3]

Day 6 Prompt: Heat @rosekiller-microfic

March Daily Series - 995 words

<<<Previous Part OR Start Here

Barty shook his head clear and refocused on the mostly empty road ahead of him. Luckily, it wasn’t busy in the off-season. Not many were foolish enough to travel to the coast in the winter, especially in a car without heat.

The sun mocked him through a cloudless sky, bouncing absurdly cheerful light off of the hood and directly into his eyes. He fumbled for the sunglasses tucked into his visor and shoved them on his face. Relaxing a bit, he leaned back and grabbed his phone. Barty rolled the scratched-up silver case on its edge over and over on his thigh. When the screen woke up mid-spin, he glanced at it hopefully.

No notifications. Of course.

By the time he reached the signs for the Prince of Wales bridge, Barty was seriously considering a detour into the river. If he wasn’t already regretting his life choices, and there weren’t a massive green metal barrier, the decision would be so easy.

Best not to start trusting myself now.

Barty inhaled deeply as he stared at the cables rising to the outline of an enormous letter “h” that straddled M4’s six lanes. Bridges fucked with his head, especially long ones running over water like this. Movie scenes of bridges cracking open like a fresh, crisp baguette toyed with his mind.

Breathe. Just breathe.

The moment his front tires passed the shoreline to England’s soil, Barty deflated. He was one hour in and already drained physically, mentally, and emotionally. Any clarity this road trip brought him earlier was lost to him now. He just wanted to crash onto his crappy sofa and stay there. Not moving for a week sounded so bloody good, but he was expected at work tomorrow.

When the opening bars of Never Let You Go drifted through his speakers, Barty tensed again. The chorus of this one hit a little too close to home.

Suddenly, his screen lit up as his mobile buzzed against his denim-covered thigh. Evan’s face appeared on his screen and Barty jerked the wheel as he screeched to a halt on the shoulder and narrowly avoided scraping the barrier. He fumbled with his phone as his stomach lurched violently.

“Rosie?”

The other end was silent except for the steady tap tap tap of Evan’s rings against the phone he was holding. Barty knew that sound intimately, but not the tempo. Evan was agitated.

His heart beat doubled and his chest clenched in panic. This wasn’t good. He didn’t know how it could get worse, but it was about to and the dread was overwhelming.

Shite shite shite!

“Before you hang up…I’m sor-sorry I didn’t tell you about Regulus. When I realised that you were friends, I shou-should have.”

Barty’s ears thrummed with his own rapid heart beat as he strained to listen for a response. After another long silence, he released a ragged breath and added, “And I’m sorry for going after your sister yesterday. I was….that doesn’t matter. I’m sober now and I hate myself for acting like that.”

“That makes two of us.”

His heart plummeted to the floorboards. “Please don’t say that, Rosie. I swear—”

“Don’t call me that,” Evan said. His voice was flat and clipped.

“Oh, right.” A chill ran down Barty’s spine and he struggled to find the words he’d practised in case Evan actually answered one of his calls. “Evan, I—”

“Not that either.”

Barty closed his eyes and repressed the urge to beg for forgiveness. There was no hope of that in Evan’s tone. This was going to hurt, he could sense it. The hammer was already pulled back and the trigger was twitching.

“Okay. I understand.”

“Good, because we are nothing to each other,” Evan snapped cruelly. “I don’t want anything to do with you, Crouch, and if you come near my sister again—”

“I won’t!” Barty cried out, shaking with the effort to hold himself together. “Please, please don’t—”

The line went dead.

“No! No no no nonono!” He quickly tapped on Evan’s picture to call back. “Please pick up! Please, please, please.”

A robotic voice informed him that his call could not be completed as dialed. His hands trembled as he texted Evan, pleading with him. The text didn’t go through. Barty stared at his screen in disbelief.

“He-He’s…I can’t…oh fuck.”

His body crumpled against the steering wheel as a shudder rushed through him. He was numb from head to toe. The hole carved out of his chest deepened until it hit curled his vertebrae. No thoughts, no emotions.

Moving on instinct alone, Barty opened his car door, stumbled out of the road, and collapsed before he emptied his stomach. His limbs quivered beneath his weight until he flopped onto his back. He swiped at his mouth and groaned at the sharp burn that raced up his throat.

He rolled away from the open car door and forced himself to push upright. The endless expanse of the river where it joined the sea spread out before him. Barty stared unblinkingly at the waves as they lapped the shore, rhythmic and repetitive.

This is it. Rock-fucking-bottom.

A hollow laugh burst from his chest, but quickly died out. It hurt to laugh. Hell, it hurt to breathe!

He hauled himself to his feet, then stepped unsteadily toward the edge where the tall barrier ended. With slow, measured steps, he climbed the short rail and headed down the slope toward the shore. Barty studied the muddy, frigid water as his boots sank with every step into the soft soil. The height of the bridge created a terrifying vantage of the water, but from here it looked tame.

Water was cleansing, that was a common belief. A refreshing drink for a parched throat, moisture for dry skin, and the perfect conduit for soap. Standing here before a river wide enough to swallow an entire city whole was humbling.

I would only make short-lived splash.

With a short burst of adrenaline, Barty ran forward, threw his arm back, and flung his mobile into the river. It disappeared beneath the waves without a sound. No splash, no interruption.

Inconsequential.

Next Part>>>

#evan x barty #barty x evan #rosekiller #rosekiller microfic #barty crouch junior #barty crouch jr #barty jr #evan rosier #slytherin skittles #marauders era

[liquidstar]

april fools is over so now im going to be slash srs instead of slash j. im going to post a little excerpt from one of the oc writing practices ive been doing :) again im not super experienced for a variety of reasons but im doing my best here.

but im going to try and put my self conciousness to the side (thats probably an important part of the practice too, right?) since this isnt final version either way, i can just say im sharing a WIP! so for now it will go the way of most of my other oc stuff..... under the cut

the only context you need is that this would be the opening scene for the story. if i post others i'll have to give more context bc most of them are taken from the middle of something. anyway here goes:

-----

“I love you

I've loved you since the beginning

From when you were only stardust

To when you will rejoin the stars

When everyone will be together again

Understand, you don’t simply live in the universe

You are part of it, taking on a form uniquely alive

You are the universe giving love back to itself

I love you so much”

“Wait!!!”

A lone girl jolts awake, crying a plea into the empty air. Tears stream down her cheeks, as she calls for someone she doesn't know. Her heart aches with a nameless yearning that fades with the memory of her dream. Still, against her will, the emotions linger. A profound sense of love consumes her, an agonizing, grieving love, meant for her. She sighs and wipes away her tears. It was an absurd dream, a ridiculous notion.

As her conscious mind clears, she takes in her surroundings; a forest drowned in the pale blue light of dawn. Her sleeping bag, now encased in dew, was laid on the cold grass. She sits for a while, gazing at the faint sliver of the rising sun’s glow with an indistinct expression, and eventually stands up.

The lone girl begins her daily routine by braiding her hair. With a wave of her hand, she freezes dew on a rock, creating herself a mirror. Her fingers carefully weave her brown locks into a braid, now adorned with a snowflake clip and a scarlet ribbon. She throws on a long blue half-skirt over her shorts, matching her shirt. She forces on a pair of black boots and cuffs on her arm. Lastly, she grabs a moon-themed spear, and she's ready for the day.

Before setting off, she made sure to pack all her belongings, including her numerous hand-drawn maps and a compass. However, she also stops to look into the bag deeper, foolishly expecting to find something new. Instead, she only sighs, "Still no food."

She puts on the backpack and trudges forward anyway, ignoring the hunger pains as best she can. She hums to keep herself distracted.

As she walks, the trees tower above her, shrouding the horizon and taunting her. Birds occasionally fly into view, but seem to disappear in an instant. She wonders if her eyes are playing tricks on her.

The lone girl scribbles on her maps, trying to record a labyrinth of identical tree trunks and twisted paths. This proves useless, as this elliptical forest has her going in circles. Exasperated, she fidgets with her compass, only to see the needle is frantically twitching around. She presses it gently to her forehead and quietly complains, “Don't tell me you're broken…”

Her train of thought was cut short by the sudden sound of running water, so loud she can’t fathom how she’s only now begun to hear it. She decided to put off one problem for another. Following the sound through some shrubs, she quickly finds the source.

Her spear at the ready, she approaches the stream. Scanning its depths for signs of fish, she walks cautiously. Her posture was awkward, her expression was uncertain, betraying her lack of experience. She held her spear to her chest with both arms as she encroached the water’s edge.

She inhales in preparation, removes her skirt and boots, and enters the water with slow, careful steps. The very surface of the stream begins to freeze as it makes contact with her skin. Tiny, thin crystals of ice form as she steps further in. Breathing deeper, as she tries to control the frost, she makes her way to the center of the stream. She stands waiting for fish.

Rather than throwing her spear to hunt, like the intended purpose, she stabs at the water. She’s not good at this, however, and only ends up scaring other potential prey away. She makes several attempts at this but is unsuccessful each time. Refusing to quit, her repeated strikes become more desperate and uncoordinated with each failure. Her growing frustration only makes the water freeze deeper, eventually solidifying around her legs. She yelps, now in a panic, and begins to frantically stab at the ice to free herself.

A mess.

Escaping this ordeal, the lone girl abandons any further attempt at fishing. It probably isn't her calling anyway. She trudges on, lost, wet, cold, and hungry.

She looks at her compass again, her face reflecting in its glass. “You're broken,” she tiredly states, as she feels her eyes begin to well with tears.

“No! No no no! Don't cry! Don't cry Polaris,” The lone girl, Polaris, reassures herself, “Last time you cried you froze your eyelids shut, and that really hurt,” She whines aloud.

Polaris takes a deep breath, slaps her cheeks, and swallows her tears. She elects to follow the river, her only hope of escape, pursuing the promise of a village just beyond this enigmatic forest. She daydreams of a warm meal in a cozy restaurant, and maybe a cold desert too. A glimmer of determination returns to her stride, as she continues her hum from before.

#hi #finn's ocs #i dont know if ill make a writing tag of any kind im still wavering on it #and again its a wip its a draft of a draft and all that #but i did my best for what it is! even if itll be changed later #i tried to avoid exposition abt the powers in this part. thatll come up later in a convo w saiph so its more clear Why #but hopefully the fact that shes just freezing stuff just establishes that there is somekinda power/magic system even w/o details yet idk! #i wont be posting that any time soon tho. its from the same sort of chunk of writing but not as polished as the Polaris Forest Failure Comp #(spoilers for if i post more ig?) this idiot doesnt know shes in the forest that makes you lost lol #but yeah i tried. ok bye

[radiowallet]

Glasses

Main Masterlist II Tied Masterlist

Summary: Dr. Djarin is slightly in denial about his eyesight. Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader (First Assist) WC: 1.6K Warnings: Mature 18+ MDNI This is an over 18 blog and all content is considered mature. Established relationship, unprotected P in V sex, light choking, vaginal fingering, oral (female receiving), medical/surgical discussions, descriptions of surgical complications, fluff, talk of family.

I do not use a tag list. You can follow @radiowallet-writes and turn on notifications to get fic updates.

“You’re staring.”

He’s not wrong.

You are staring. 

You are staring and Din is squinting. His brown eyes are fixed on one single point on the computer screen, moving in and out of focus, the wrinkles at the edges beautifully (and needlessly) pronounced. You watch as his brow furrows in, the dip between his eyes set deep as he tries to make out the words in front of him, every inch of him steadfast and stubborn. 

“First.”

His tone is biting, but the warning is dulled, a smile teasing at the corner of his lips, the surgical mask pulled down below his chin moving with the small twitch. 

“I never took you for a vain man, Dr. Djarin.” 

His chair swivels, metal wheels giving a whining groan in protest of the sudden movement. Sharp eyes meet yours and you don’t bother hiding your grin, dragging the toe of your dirty sneaker up and down his calf, a silent cue from you to him – with love.

“You need glasses.” 

For a second he doesn’t say anything, his scowl pursing deeper into his bottom lip, his mustache following not far behind. And then, just before he turns back to the computer screen, “I don’t.” 

“You asked for loupes today.”

“Not an uncommon occurrence.” His voice is even, but his back is steel, his fists are flexed. 

“You only ask for loupes in vascular cases. Today was just a valve replacement.” 

Din doesn’t respond, instead leaning his face closer to the computer screen; a move that only helps to further prove your point. You lean back in your own chair and breathe in deep, the smell of burnt coffee and cold pizza invading your senses. You had meant what you said; you didn’t take Din for a vain man. Confident, of course. A bit of an ego, sure. The best surgeons had both, practically parting gifts on the way out of residency. 

But vain? 

He had shouldered every grey hair he found beneath the bright synthetic lights of the hospital with cool indifference. He had barely paid lip service to his changing body, hard edges earned from daily runs and vending machine sandwiches switched out for a soft belly gifted over two years of a warm bed and home cooked meals. He had even given in to your plea for a new mattress with zero fight, going as far to agree that yes, his back did feel better, the admission grunted in your ear as he fucked deep inside you, the plastic half-torn away, the delivery men barely out the front door.

Through all of it he smiled, that same cocky tilt to his features he’s been giving you since the day you met. And you loved him all the more for it. Loved that he was embracing this next stage of life, with all of its many gifts and numerous changes, with grace and a touch of humor. 

But this? Glasses? That’s his tipping point?

“You pointed at the menu last night. Didn’t even try to read it.”

He clicks the mouse once. 

“I read it.”

Twice. 

“They brought you salmon. You hate salmon”

Three times and the chart finally closes. 

“A man can change.” 

His hand gently touches to your knee, a warm grip that draws your eyes up to his own. His features are set, his mouth drawn thin, and when he speaks, his clipped tone speaks volumes. 

“Next cut time is in ten.”

“I think you would look sexy with glasses.”

“I’m just a piece of meat to you, aren’t I?”

“If the scrubs fit.”

You try again two days later with a different tactic. 

“How about contacts?”

Din only hums, his lips preoccupied, sucking a bruise into the curve of your hip, his thick fingers digging at the flesh of your thighs. His destination is clear, but he’s taking his time tonight, no piece of skin left untouched, lips and teeth and tongue mapping a twisting pattern across your body. You’re pleasantly warm, arousal simmering sweetly beneath the surface of the evening and you’re hoping it’s enough for him to finally agree. 

“Din?”

He switches to your other hip bone, barely pulling away from the heat of your skin, to give you a gruff reply. 

“Contacts would dry out in the O.R.”

You bite your lip, a moan threatening to break the seal of your lips, the tip of one of Din’s fingers dragging through the folds of your pussy. Your silence only spurs him on, and he sucks harder, a bite of pain flaring beneath his kiss. 

“H-how about… shit– lasik?”

He pulls always from you then, the suction of his mouth breaking off with a slick pop, his incredulous gaze piercing you from below. The tip of his finger is still inside you, his finger curling forward to meet his answer, your own gasp of pleasure not far behind. 

“You want me to let some hack put a laser near my eyes?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, instead slipping a second finger inside you to join the first, pumping them in out of you in time with his words.

“Do you know that 0.3% of patients come away with some form of infection after any type of eye surgery? Or that dry eyes are the number one side effect?” 

His voice is steady, belying the way he’s stretching you open, slick arousal dripping out around his fingers and soaking the sheets below. Your legs are trembling where his shoulders push them wide, and he only seems to delight in the break in your composure.

“What about the increase in glares? Halos?”  

He dips his head and licks gently at your clit, his chest rumbling in delight as you twist beneath him, hips canting up to meet the thrust of his fingers. 

“How about that 1% chance of a dislocation of the corneal flap?”

“Oh my god! Din!” You groan, your pussy clenching around his fingers even as you arch off the bed and shoot him an exasperated look. “Just shut u–”

Your words are cut off, head falling back to the mattress, his mouth fusing to your clit, bursts of white blinding your vision as he sucks the bundle of nerves between his teeth. He groans into you, the vibrations sending liquid heat up your spine, his fingers pushing deep inside, his tongue curling through the folds of your pussy to collect every drop of you he can. Your fingers find the curls at the crown of his head and you tug, desperate to keep his mouth occupied with anything but the statistical risk of lasik eye surgery.

And still, you can’t help yourself.

“Can you…can you even s—ee what you’re doing?”

Your laughter can barely catch up to your joke before Din is on you, the fingers just buried inside your cunt wrapped around your throat, his lips still shiny with the taste of you, hovering just out of reach of your own. His cock sits heavy between your legs, and he thrusts up, dragging the hard length against your core, precum smearing into your skin as he steals your breath in the process. 

“I don’t need to see to take you apart. Trust me.”

“It’s not about vanity.”  

You don’t look up from the computer screen, but you stop typing, ignoring Din’s long list of chart deficiencies in lieu of waiting patiently for him to keep talking. Fortunately, he doesn’t keep you waiting long.

“I don’t want to stop cutting. Not yet. I’m…It’s…a part of me.”

This time you do look up, trying and failing to keep your face neutral as you set your eyes as him, embarrassed frustration barely stewing beneath the grimace on his lips. 

“Dr. Djarin?”

“Yeah?”

“I know.” And then, “You won’t.”

The last thing you expect is for Din to bring the topic up on his own. 

You’re stretched out on opposite ends of the couch one cold November night, Grogu sitting on the floor between you, breaking in a new set of crayons as he covers sheet after sheet of construction paper in green scribbles. It’s a far cry from nights spent in on-call rooms waiting for an inevitable page that would pull Din and you apart, a warm mug of tea replacing cold coffee, Din’s clever hands rubbing soft circles into the ball of your foot instead of wrapped around surgical tools. 

The mood is near-perfect, so much so that you have no intention of pointing out the way Din is squinting at the picture his son just handed him, struggling to name the creature Grogu is so proud to share.

“It’s great, buddy. I love…”

“Frog, Dada,” Grogu offers with a stomp of his foot before snatching the paper away and bringing it over to you, chubby fingers pulling at your sweatshirt in frustration. 

“It’s such a good frog, baby! Definitely going up on the fridge,” you coo sweetly down at your son, pushing his hair back and out of his eyes. 

Without prompting Grogu goes back to his coloring, his attention stolen back by the rainbow of colors scattered across the living room floor and you can’t help but watch a little longer. Across from you, Din shifts, and when you sneak a glance his way he’s frowning, the brown of his eyes focused on some invisible threat hovering just out of sight. You call his name softly, drawing his attention back to you, raising your eyebrow in a silent invitation to explain.

When he does finally speak, his throat bobbing with the weight of his words, the answer almost too simple for your liking.

“I don’t want to miss any of this.”

You don’t ask what he means by this. You don’t have to. 

And you were right.

Din does look sexy with glasses.

A/N: I know it's been almost a year since I've posted anything for Dr. Djarin and First, and I have no good reason other than I hit an emotional wall with this story that had many contributing factors. I hope this little drabble means I'll be able to finish this story properly.

Bonus Medical Jargon

Loupes: Loupes are a simple optical devices used for viewing details of objects with some magnification.

Valve Replacement: An aortic valve replacement involves removing a faulty or damaged valve and replacing it with a new valve made from synthetic materials or animal tissue

Vascular Surgery: Vascular surgery is a surgical subspecialty in which diseases of the vascular system, or arteries, veins and lymphatic circulation.

Lasik: Commonly referred to as laser eye surgery or laser vision correction.

Dislocation of the corneal flap: A flap dislocation would cause notable pain, discomfort, excessive watering in the eye, and/or blurred vision

#Din Djarin #Din Djarin AU #Doctor!Din #din djarin x f!reader #The Mandalorian #The Mandalorian AU

[highshelfcollective]

🏢 We're now in Book 3 of our #Ascension anthology story in the #CyberpunkRED setting . . . 

But it's always interesting to look back on where things started. Relive those #worldbuilding moments with @potay-tayto & @highshelfdavid discussing how roles might function differently in this #megabuilding.

Don’t forget to catch Ascension in Paradise every Wednesday, 8:30pm EST on Twitch: https://www.twitch.tv/highshelfcollective

#cyberpunk #ttrpg #tabletop #tabletopgames #worldbuildingtok #worldbuildingwednesday #twitch #twitch clips #twitch clips daily #edgerunners #night city #ttrpg family #ttrpg stuff #ttrpg community #high shelf collective #Ascension in Paradise

[skylarmoon71]

Miguel O' Hara (Across the Spider-Verse) AU- Extra

If he thought you were intolerable before, you’re insufferable now.

Now that you were aware of his feelings, you spent every free moment teasing him.

“Good morning Mr. O’Hara.”

You were smiling way too big at eight in the morning.

“Good morning,” 

His gruff tone replied.

You got to work shortly after the greeting, and he’d just glimpse at you ever now and then. At one point he caught your eyes and he scolded himself for getting distracted so easily.

“It must be hard working so closely with me when you’re head over heels in love sir.”

There it was

“I mean I know my beauty might be distracting, but try to hold yourself back. Unless you want to take me right here and now.”

You flipped off the little suit jacket on your shoulder dramatically, striking a pose with the back of your hand on the top of your forehead.

“Please be gentle sir.”

He snapped the pen he held in half.

“GET OUT!!”

You were giggling the whole way out and he dropped his head on the desk. Somehow you’d gotten the upper hand.

~

More often you found yourself watching little clips people have taken of Miguel fighting crime. This particular one he’d stopped four robbers. Successfully tying them against a pole with the cash for the police to take in. The video seems to zoom into him from behind and your eyes run over the comments. All of which seemed to be centered around his very nice booty. An idea sparked in your head and you grinned wickedly.

Later that afternoon most of the employees had already left. You’d completed most of your errands and you came back into Miguel's office. You weren’t surprised to see him browsing through his computer.

“Mr. O’ Hara, I think there was a mix up with the Truman project, would you mind grabbing it for me.”

He nods, heading over to the shelf to get it. When he gets there, his brows raise at the small speaker on his shelf that he had no recollection of putting there. He turns back to you in question, but you already have your phone out.

Hot in...

So hot in herre...

So hot in...

I was like, good gracious ass bodacious

Flirtatcious, tryin to show faces

Lookin for the right time to shoot my steam (you know)

You were bobbing your head to the song and he could feel his eyebrow twitch, clearly agitated. He wasn’t sure what was worse, the fact that it’s clear you have no shame, or you seem to know all the lyrics to the song.

Lookin for the right time to flash them keys

Then um I'm leavin, please believin

Me and the rest of my heathens

Check it, got it locked at the top of the four seasons

Penthouse, roof top, birds I feedin

No deceivin, nothin up my sleeve, no teas-

He crushed the electronic in his palm and you stared.

“H-Hey that cost money you know!!”

“Maybe next time you’ll be more careful with your items. He dropped the shattered pieces on the floor, moving back to his seat.

That was the end of that.

It’s fun to mess with Miguel. It’s just so easy and his expressions are the cutest. Another part of you does it because you know the serious cases he deals with on a daily basis. If you could do just a little to lessen the load he carried, you would.

Much like your day, sometimes your nights would collide.

It’s not really that strange for him to drop by your place in his spider suit anymore.

The first few times it's like he was checking to make sure you were okay. So when you see his familiar silhouette on your balcony, you’re not that surprised. You keep flicking through the channels on your television set.

“How was your little night patrol? Did you catch any bad guys?”

No reply.

So you turn.

His head is hung low and when he finally removes his mask. He won’t really meet your eyes, and you drop the remote, rushing out of your bed. In seconds you're at his side.

“What’s wrong!?”

He looks physically fine, which is a relief. But his eyes hold so much sorrow.

“I was.. too late..”

He sounds so defeated. You can only imagine what he’s gone through. Miguel is not one to show his vulnerabilities or ask for help. So the fact that he’s standing here right now says a lot. If you could take away all that pain, you would in an instant. Your hands reach up and you wrap them around his torso, hugging him. This is all you can offer. It takes a moment, but he hugs back. You can feel how tense his muscles are. How they all seem to relax as he lets out a shaky breath.

He’s hurting.

This isn’t something your usual quick witted jokes can fix.

You pull away slowly to look up at him. You can feel the reluctance in his hold to fully part from you.

“Why don’t you stay over tonight. I bought a couple things the last time you came crash landing here. I’ll heat up the bath for you, how does that sound?”

He nods slowly.

“It sounds good, thank you.”

“Of course.”

You brush your hand along his cheek, smiling at him.

“I don’t know how, but it’ll be okay.”

He’d believe just about anything you say. He never thought you would become someone he’d bring his troubles to. It’s hard doing this everyday and pushing his pain to the side. He always lectured himself to be strong. Not to depend on anyone other than his late brother. People always did what was beneficial for themselves.

Yet here you are, offering him comfort. A place to lay his head. A shoulder to lean on. He feels like he’d robbed himself of this for so long.

You move to take a step to get the items he needs, but he grabs your hand. You can see that he hadn’t meant to do that. He looks as though he’s about to apologize, but you shake your head. Pushing unto your toes, you leave a kiss on his cheek. When you part, your smile has his heart hammering,

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Somehow that’s exactly what he needed to hear.

So he steps into your bathroom and cleans up. You’d taken his suit and threw it into the wash. He steps out maybe fifteen minutes later wearing a t-shirt and sweats. The towel is placed on the top of his head that’s still partially damp. You slide to the bottom of your bed, gesturing him over. He drops right next to your feet and you giggle as you take the towel and begin drying his hair. He’s so obedient and it’s endearing.

“He’s like a domesticated cat now.”

There’s a bit of a soft side that comes out when he’s around you. You’re grateful that he doesn’t always hide it. More than that, you like that he hadn’t gone home to be alone with his thoughts. Just the idea of him in the dark beating himself up for something that was obviously out of his control brings an uncomfortable feeling to your chest. Your motions stop and he turns his head. Your hands take his cheeks, and the towel slides to the floor. He means to question you, but you lean forward and the second he feels the warmth of your lips, his brain shuts down. He’s just sitting there a bit wide eyed. You hold him for one, two..three seconds. Then you pull back.

“Whenever you need someone, I’ll be here. No matter what happens, I have your back. Please don’t ever forget that.”

He’s not sure he can give a response that would truly express how he feels. He leans up, and you smile when his lips meet yours. He seems very eager. Your fingers get lost in his hair. It takes a moment for you to realize that he’s rising. You only register it when his body is hovering over you.

Your breathing is no longer steady, and he places you down against the pillows.

“M-Miguel..”

You sound a bit uncertain. It’s the first time he’s ever seen you like this. It's a welcomed change from your usual teasing tone.

“Sí, cariño.”

You’re not one for promiscuous relationships. This step is something you take very seriously. He can see it from your expression. He’s quite the same. It’s not that much of a shock. Trust issues tended to do that. The last girlfriend he recalls having was back in high school. Way before his abilities manifested.

“It’s okay, we don’t have to go any further if you’re not ready.”

You shake your head.

“I’m ready.”

You look so sure, so willing and he has to bite his bottom lip to hold himself back.

“You don’t have to force yourself because of me.” He turns his head, and you grab his cheeks before he can get lost in his own thoughts.

“I’m not forcing myself. I do want this.”

“Te deseo.”

He thinks.

His eyes move back to your waist. It’s then that he realized that you weren’t wearing any pants. He can see your panties that peek from under your oversized shirt. His nose catches a hint of an aroma and he licks his lips.

“What does she taste like..”

He can’t help but imagine it. Your scent is starting to filter through. He can just taste your desire in the air. You catch the subtle change of his irises and you gulp.

“I-Is everything okay.”

“Que maravilla.”

“A-Are you sure? Because you’re looking at me like a piece of steak.”

He just grins and it really doesn’t help. Your mouth is claimed by his soft ones, and your brows knit in satisfaction. His hand slides easily under your shirt and you barely hold back a moan when he goes straight for your underwear. His finger runs over your folds and you pull back with a gasp.

“M-Miguel!!”

Your back arches, because the slickness offers him a chance to guide his finger in.

“You’re all wet cariño,”

He tsked, and you sent him your best glare.

“W-What the hell do you expe-ah!”

You jolt when he adds another finger. You're gripping at his shoulders, and he welcomes the needy hold.

“Too much?” He questions softly.

You shake your head, and the second he moves his fingers inside you, your body reacts. He pushes them at an angle, and you’re honestly surprised that you haven’t cum yet. Miguel slides them out, only to force them back in. You cry out, and he leaves a light kiss on the base of your neck. Your thighs are squeezing tightly against his hand. He can’t help but imagine how they would feel around his neck.

“Spread your legs.”

You’re surprised at the demand, and you mean to call him out on the very arousing statement, but when he begins to move south, his intentions are clear. He slips your underwear off in record time.

“W-Wait Miguel!”

He’s already between your thighs and you fight back a moan when he slides your legs forward. They are basically on his shoulders and he dives in. His tongue slips between your folds and you sob at how incredible it all feels. His tongue is probing and so very hot. He’s licking and sucking as if he’s been starved. He was quite literally devouring you in the best way possible.

“Delicious..”

He mumbles out.

“D-Don’t talk while you’re down there!” You protest. It was as if he was trying to drive you crazy.

His tongue strokes you in a particular spot and you can’t stop your release. It rips through your body like a storm. You’re spasming for what feels like a full minute, and Miguel laps it up greedily. When you finally come down from your high, he’s drawing back, licking the edge of his fang. His eyes are almost glowing in the dull lit room.

He pulls his shirt over his head, and you watch from your spot, enjoying the show. You take in every ridge, each tight muscle. You’re a bit surprised that his shirt is able to cover so much. His sweats are next to follow and you take in the size of him.

“Shit..”

He lowers back to the bed and you sit up slowly, lifting your own shirt over your head. You’re a bit bashful. You can’t help but cover your chest. It’s not so much that you’re self conscious. You’re just not used to this. It’s been such a long time since you’ve been with anyone. You hadn’t realized until now just how much you’ve wanted this.

“I want to see you.” He urges.

Your hands slowly lower, and that hungry look returns to his eyes at the sight of you.

“Hermosa.”

You shiver at the drop in his voice.

“I should tie you up and make you scream for all the times you’ve driven me crazy..”

That excites you, and he presses you into the bed as begins leaving kisses at every spot of your body that he can.

He pulls back for a moment, just to admire you. When his eyes meet your own, he takes in the bashful look on your face. His body easily covers your own. He can see the blush on your cheeks, the anticipation in your eyes as you lay there so helpless to his touch. His fingers dance along your thighs as he parts your legs.

Breathing staggered, eyes glazed, you anticipate it all.

Your body trembles when you feel his member brush your thighs.

You can’t help but glance down.

“Oh my…”

You’re pretty much soaked. Just from the sight of him.

“Having second thoughts.” He teases.

“N-No!”

Miguel smirks, thumb massaging your skin.

When he finally enters, you let out a shaky moan. Miguel groans himself.

You’ve always assumed that Miguel is a pretty big guy. But seeing really is believing. You’re somewhat impressed that he actually fits.

For a second you weren’t sure.

When he finally settles, you both seem to pause, an attempt to catch your breath. His eyes reflect that ruby glow. His hand moves your face and he brushes your hair back.

There’s something much softer in his gaze. You’re not used to this. Seeing such a tender side to him.

He kisses you, and you lean into it happily. Miguel smiles against your lips and his hips thrust forward. You part, crying out. Miguel brows knits as his breathing increases.

“Couldn’t help myself..” He says softly.

Another thrust and you’re fighting to grab onto something. To anchor yourself as he drives you mad.

“Se siente tan bien..”

He mumbles into your ear.

You whimper, hands laying on his shoulders as he picks up the pace. Every time your hips meet a moan follows.

“M-Miguel!!”

He knows.

Your body has become so sensitive, so he’s not very surprised at your cries.

His attention is to elect more of those screams.

All night long.

~

Miguel is a man who delivers.

Because you wake at some time later the next afternoon.

The light is peaking through the curtains. You turn, the faint soreness of your body registers, and you take notice of the hulk of the man lying beside you. His hair is adorable ruffled against the pillow, face relaxed. There’s no sight of that permanent frown. Just the beautiful auburn color of his skin. You can’t stop yourself from sliding your fingers into his thick hair. It’s so soft. His brows furrow for a second, and he lets out a soft breath.

“(Y/N)...”

His little whisper of your name makes your cheeks red. You leave a kiss on his shoulder, then another on his forehead, the side of his jaw. He lulls awake, that ruby stare catching you by surprise.

“Cariño..?”

His head turns and you kiss him happily. He groaned in the back of his throat. Clearly not expecting you to attack him as soon as he woke up. You climb on top, and he finds his hands settling on the curve of your waist. 

Your body pressed this closely, it’s hard for him not to get excited. You finally part, and you can see his fangs peeking out. You grin at his lapse in control.Your lips drift to his neck, and his eyes close. When you sink your teeth into his skin lightly he lets out a startled little moan. You brush your tongue against the mark.

“You’re not the only one who gets to be possessive.”

You coo, nibbling on his ear. Miguel shivers at the pleasured sparks that rush through his body.

He can’t deny he likes being marked by you. 

#miguel o'hara #boss #fluff #care #love #humor #feelings #spiderman #across the spiderverse #crimefighter #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 #boss/employee #friends to lovers

[pothosrays]

redo of the pinned thing lol <3

🌿🌱🌿🌱🌿🌱 Links: 🌿🌱🌿🌱🌿🌱🌿🌱🌿🌱

Prints

Commission info

my custom brushes for csp :)

my twitch channel

Ko-fi

Linktree

side blog

🌿🌱🌿🌱🌿🌱🌿🌱🌿🌱🌿🌱🌿🌱🌿🌱🌿🌱

FAQ pin post:

Commissions?:

- yeah sometimes. go to my comm page

what devices do I use?:

- Note 20 ultra , Huion Kamvas Pro 22 2019

what programs do I use the most?:

- Clip Studio Paint Pro, mspaint, Infinite Painter, Samsung Notes

Is it okay to use your art as icons/banners or whatever?:

- Yes!! as long as I'm credited somewhere when in use of icon/banner it's all good :) you can use my art for phone wallpapers/desktop backgrounds too, I don't mind, and obviously those don't need credit.

Can I draw/write about your crows/ocs?:

- Yes and Please show me too, I'd love to see <3 please tag with #pothoscrows !!

Are the crows gay?:

- yes lol <3

Are you really 4'11:

- yeah (vineboom)

What the FUCK are the crows names:

orange eyes: _

blue eyes: greg

green eyes: Cap

🌿🌱🌿🌱🌿🌱🌿🌱 tags 🌿🌱🌿🌱🌿🌱🌿🌱

"#not crow" for all art other than daily crow

"#ray art" for all art

"#not daily" for extra crow/bird content

Please use "#pothoscrows" if you'd like to post any fan art of my bird characters!

🌿🌱🌿🌱🌿🌱🌿🌱🌿🌱🌿🌱🌿🌱🌿🌱🌿🌱

#not crow #pinned #faq post #ray art

[bedtimestoriesforbrokengirls]

The Daily Dad — Feb 1, 2024

Things you might want to know:

•Norman Jewison, Oscar-nominated director of ‘In the Heat of the Night,’ dead at 97 💭 To me, he was the “director of Jesus Christ Superstar and Moonstruck”. Fare thee well, old man.

DC's new Supergirl is House of the Dragon's Milly Alcock ❝ Milly Alcock will play Supergirl in the new DC Universe, alongside David Corenswet's Man of Steel and other heroes.

Syphilis cases soar to highest level in 70 years — staggering 207,000 syphilis cases reported in US in 2022 — 80% increase since 2018 💭 What the flippin’ furry fuck are you horny weirdos doing out there? What bubbling cauldrons of genital-shriveling disease are you embracing? And what’s next? Macramé vests, AMC Gremlins, and 8-tracks? I mean, clearly, you desperate little shits are aiming to bring back all the worst aspects of the ‘70s…

Even princesses of Hell fail sometimes, as shown in this exclusive clip from Prime Video and A24's Hazbin Hotel ❝ The princess of Hell has a breakdown in this exclusive clip from A24's Hazbin Hotel

Disney aims to revamp Buffy the Vampire Slayer (with help from Dolly Parton) 💭 It’s a nothingburger of a story, and amounts to glorified Dolly Parton clickbait. But just to be clear: where there is no Joss Whedon, there should be no Buffy. If we’ve decided we no longer wish to hear from Joss —and “I” among “we” have not— then we should no longer have Buffy. I don’t want to see Jay & Silent Bob written by Tina Fey, either. Or Legally Blonde directed by Wes Anderson. (Okay, technically, I’d love to see those things. But only in trailer form.)

Arc Search Review: My New Default iPhone Browser ❝ Every once in a while, I come across a new app whose design, feature set, or combination of the two redefines my expectations for a particular category of software. The new Arc Search app for iPhone, which is launching today on the App Store as a separate app from The Browser Company’s previous Arc Companion

Pokimane's main reason for leaving Twitch: 'So much manosphere, red pill bullshit' 💭 I’m wondering if this was the inevitable result of the internet creating thousands upon thousands of micro-celebrities? I mean, what if the only reason this “manosphere” bullshit caught on is that thousands of men were suddenly vying against thousands of women for views, and the women had boobs on their side? Brazen macro-misogyny probably looks like a viable weapon when all you’re packing otherwise is a micro-penis and a backward baseball cap.

Florence Pugh: Camera Broke During 'Oppenheimer' Sex Scene ❝ The actress joked that the malfunction was “bad news for whoever had to give [Christopher Nolan] the news.”

Amy Hart reveals trolls dubbed her the 'fat one' on Love Island as she shares throwback bikini snaps 💭 Amy darling, first, I’m glad your life is going so well. Good for you. Second, you were never, ever “the fat one”. That was Anna. You were “the crazy-eyed desperate one”. But dysmorphia gonna morph, I suppose.

Meet the sexy Egyptology scholars who dress like Indiana Jones characters 💭 I’ve only read the first few paragraphs. But I looked at the pictures. Good grief.

Apple Introduces Transcripts for Podcasts ❝ I switch to Apple system apps every summer to test the latest versions of the company’s OSes. I usually return to my favorite third-party apps over time, but Apple Podcasts has been an outlier since last summer for various reasons. The app has come a long way in recent years…

Award-winning lesbian realtor, 50, is jailed for tricking 90 year-old man with dementia into thinking they were lovers 💭 Congratulations to whomever wrote that title. I don’t think you could make it more sensational without including a reference to “Satanic terrorist strap-ons” or something.

#news

[thejaymo]

I’m sure you have all seen this clip of David Bowie talking about the Internet back in 1999 “I think we're actually on the cusp of something exhilarating and terrifying”. 

One of the things that is always missing whenever that clip goes viral is the context from which he was speaking. 

David Bowie was in the Metaverse before most people were even on the web. Here’s an overview

At the time of the recording ALL of the following was already happening and going on in his life:

BOWIE WORLD (1999)

Created by World’s Inc. in 1999, Bowie World was the first 3D virtual world created by a creative artist on Bowienet. Bowie World allowed users to experience the immersive world of David Bowie, interact with fans from around the world, purchase merchandise and meet with David in avatar form.

The 3D environment was powered by worlds.com technology and featured integrated chat room etc.

See this paper from 1996 ACM interactions, Sept-Oct 1996 journal for more details.

"He would never announce it in advance, but he would get on to the chat board and talk to us. The handle he always called himself by was Sailor," says Mr Carrington.

In 2016 daily dot went to visit Bowie World and documented their experience. there were people in the world chatting! Still! 17 years later! 

// If you’re so included you can read my experience of doing something similar. I toured Active Worlds (launched 1995) in the book Lost Zone. Hiking the Dawn of Metaverse //

Cyber Song (1999)

The same year 1999, Bowie recorded the worlds first ‘Cyber Song’.

Fans were invited to send in lyrics to help co-write a track, and 80,000 people responded. The song Bowie chose was by a 20-year-old American, about the idea of having a virtual life on the internet. 

You can find the song on the album Hours...

"What's Really Happening?"

Grown inside a plastic box Micro thoughts and safety locks Hearts become outdated clocks Tickin' in your mind

Fans were invited to watch the track being recorded live via a 360-degree interactive webcast!! back in 1999! 

The chat logs from that session are still online and archived at bowiewonderworld.com

The chat reads like literally any twitch livestream you’d read today:

*** Now talking in #BowieNetChat

Eileen: hmph - pFuRs: looking glass studios Bonster1: I like the hair especially ;) Eileen: (duh) Mechnic: his hair! *sigh* Eileen: I LOVE his hair.. Bonster1: it's getting really long Bonster1: my husband is jealous Eileen: first time in my LIFE I have actually LIKED the way he wears it LdyofDarkness: if I could be anyone's hair in the world, it would be his William: silly old man

Bowie also showed up

TotalBlamBlam: Is that Davis Bowie? Bonster: (David Bowie) yes I smell great

A potion of that chat in addition to the recording session is taken up with discussion about the (then upcoming) adventure game: The Nomad Soul developed by Quantic Dream and published by Eidos Interactive. 

The Nomad Soul (1999)

David Bowie is not only *in* the game and also wrote the soundtrack with Reeves Gabrels from The Cure!

I’ve never played the game but here’s a two line review:

In an alternate reality, all hell is breaking loose. And only one person can stop it - YOU.... sitting at your computer. That's not a witty commentary on video gaming, it's the plot of the game. And that's just the start of this bonkers bonanza. 

Lastly, for completeness I should also mention BowieNet

BowieNet (1998)

From 1998 - 2006, BowieNet wasn’t just David Bowies website with its virtual world, chat rooms, live-streamed concerts etc 

It was also the name of his ISP

Thats right, for 8 years Bowie ran an Internet Service Provider offering high speed and “uncensored” access to the Internet. 

The ISP provided every user with 5MB of web space, encouraging them to create and share their own websites. Newcomers were told they’d need at least a 28k, but preferably 56k modem connection – this was demanding at a time when the commercial WWW infrastructure was still in its infancy.

Through his Ultrastar company he negotiated deals to give users access to music services like the Rolling Stone Network, which livestreamed concerts, and Music Boulevard, one of the first companies to offer paid-for downloadable music tracks. 

For Bowie, this ISP wasn’t just a new means of marketing his material to the masses, it was the realisation of something he’d always understood about music: that the fan response completes the art. 

Anyways, hope his ‘Alien Life Form’ have a little more context. 

Bowie was in the Metaverse way before many of us were even on the web!

#David Bowie #bowie world #metaverse #cyberspace #bowie #cyber song #cyberpunk #online world #online worlds #ISP #the nomad soul #hours #internet #history #worldrunning

[andivmg]

(big paragraph rant ahead thanks to madison beer’s memoir)

okay so i finished reading The Half of It today and i have a lot of thoughts. but i’m gonna post just the pages that spoke to me the most in regard to online stuff and rant

i remember 2021 as being literally one of the worst years of my life this far because of twitter (obviously a bunch of personal stuff too but yk). to this day i’m mildly afraid of the internet which is very silly but very real. because of the part of the internet i was “famous” in i was forced to see every single thing people wrote about me and at first it was super fun super cool but it very quickly shifted into people picking me apart for everything i did or said. then i started associating myself with my ex and his circle of people and it only got worse. their audience was welcoming at first but after a week i would see people call me annoying and a pick me on a daily basis. and this was before i got “called out” for some stuff i don’t wanna get into now because i feel like it has been discussed enough but iykyk. so when that happened people latched onto that and to this day i still get the one off rude message about it. and when people tried to stick up for me i was reduced to sex. which was so demeaning in so many different ways. like the only reason i would ever be worth defending was because of my “pussy”. like that was the only thing about me that mattered. and as a woman on TWITCH of all places i was already hearing that enough. it was even more infuriating knowing that my male counterparts had done so much worse than me and faced maybe half the backlash. and even then had their mistakes and behaviors excused to the point of them not having to own up to them at all. as a woman of color i was held to a much higher standard than a lot of my peers. i was expected to know everything and to never make a mistake. so yeah, i wish i had been kinder to myself at the time. because no matter how mean the internet was to me, i was meaner. at the time it literally felt like my life was over. i would go online and only read bad things about myself. it was such a small group of people though, but i was so chronically online that it felt like the whole world was against me. and it sounds dumb and self centered but it’s how it felt as a teenage girl whose whole life was centered around twitter, tiktok, and twitch. once a big group of us went to universal and i tried to stay out of as many pictures as possible. whenever a fan would approach us as a group i would always offer to take the picture for them because i didn’t want to be in any of them. my friends told me i was being dramatic but i was trying to avoid what ended up happening anyway. people quote tweeting the pictures and making comments about me. i expected every fan that came up to either not know who i was (ideally), or worse, to know and hate me.

madison also talked a lot about being paranoid about her personal life being leaked online and talked about and i felt that deeply as well. once on stream i accidentally showed my lock screen (a picture of me and my ex) for like half a second. then immediately after, i ended stream and deleted the vod along with most of the clips but people had already had seen it and a week later my ex called me up mad as hell because people were posting screenshots of it on twitter and he was not happy about it. people were speculating on our relationship and making fun etc. and i just felt so powerless. like nothing i could do or say would change their mind. now i realize it literally does not matter what people say.

anyway yeah clearly madison’s book brought back a lot of memories for me. it was honestly oddly comforting to read. i know so many people that have gone through similar things and it’s never handled well by anyone involved. i feel a lot more comfortable talking about it now and especially here because i know it won’t become a huge thing since i’m irrelevant now and this is old drama. it’s just nice to write to the void sometimes (you guys aren’t a void i promise but yk what i mean). but yeah i’m over most of the stuff that happened that year. my therapist is amazing and helped me through it all. and now i can talk about it without feeling any type of way. it is something that happened. and i am okay now.

in conclusion, i love madison beer

#rant #the half of it #madison beer