#we’re doing 2000+ cases a day

[bellewintersroe]

Jenson Button x FamousReader!2009

this is like a second part (can be read individually) to THIS. Here’s just some more headcannons of what it would be like when Jenson is in a relationship with a famous British celeb who’s extremely popular, especially amongst the party scene. warnings: mentions of sex, oral sex, nothing too graphic but I just knowww Jenson gets down and dirty. mentions of alcohol and some drug use? not to glamorise it we all know celebs ain’t innocent ok. for this case 18+ 😇

Jenson is a cutie ok, the more he falls in love with his SO the more he finds himself looking out for her in the garage. Whether this be before or after his race, just imagine his head poking out of his car, or he’s fully suited, helmet still on, glimpsing around trying to find her.

lots of cuddles, he’d keep an arm slung around her, especially if they’re in public where there’s paparazzi- in that case he’s keeping an extra tight grip on her.

despises the paparazzi ok- he’s a polite man, pretty tame, but British press in the 2000s were VILE and for his girlfriend, he can’t stand the idea of them even looking at her.

helps shields her eyes when the flashes are too bright.

Taxis home together at questionable hours of the morning, limbs sprawled over each other and getting caught snogging in the backseats.

drunk sex- especially when he wins the championship, he’s so smug and proud, fucking into her with all his energy, cos he’s world champion baby 😏. lovesss seeing her legs pinned up over his shoulders.

thanks his girl publicly after he wins his championship.

as I mentioned in the part prior to this, Jenson LOVES going on holiday with her, like he’s a bit of a perv when it comes to seeing y/n in a bikini, especially after he’d already seen to many shoots of her before even meeting each other.

never admits to being a fanboy of her but the smirk would say otherwise.

getting down and dirty on a yacht, hidden by a beach towel whilst he fingers her, he has his sunnies on and he’s smirking, pressing kisses to her temple and whispering sweet nothings.

“you’re doing so good aren’t you?” “all these people taking pictures of you and nobody has a clue what we’re doing.” “should put on a show for them, shouldn’t we?”

so mf dirty, his British accent makes it 10x sexier too.

sex in the pool of a yacht, and every single room in there, wants to try everything with her, but he isn’t pushy in the slightest- Jenson wouldn’t ever come close to making her feel uncomfortable.

They’d deffo see pictures released of them both the next day and giggle because nobody would have a clue what was happening under that towel.

can be really soft in sex, like stroking her face, talking her thru it -omfg I need him.

Deffo wants to try like anal, and certain kinks- I feel like she would too, idk when they’re both drunk they’d decide they wanna try something and sometimes it’s an utter fail.

other times it’s just giggly, exciting sex where they’re both eating fucking whipped cream off one another or something.

soft, gentle moans from him, especially when the sex is more passionate, when it’s rougher I feel like he’d be quiet but let out some grunts whenever he’s out of breath or gets really into it.

He’s a sucker when she goes down on him, like he’s a mess omg- if there’s one way to elicit moans from him that’s exactly how and she’s soooo good at it- he makes plenty of public innuendos about this.

I feel like y/n would wear the smallest little mini skirts, like she’s a Y2K queen and befriends lots of other wags at this stage- constantly pictures walking around the paddock looking cool asf.

Deffo a trend setter, but they’re the type of couple in 15 years that the younger generation look at and go ‘they’re together?!?’

as they get older they deffo become more private, but not secretive.

can spot each other in a crowd instantly, when he wins a race you best expect him to practically JUMP onto her, sometimes he forgets he’s bigger than her lmao.

The cameras go CRAZY for this and their faces are printed all over the newspapers.

Quiet, lazy mornings in England, especially when it’s cold out and Jenson finally has time off- the two of them can really appreciate the quiet side of life at home.

makes him want to settle down- but I think he’d be worried at first about bringing a child into the world- they’re having too much fun with each other, but I think they would calm down after a few years.

occasional bickers, maybe they both walk out of a nightclub and she’s storming ahead of him with a face like a slapped arse. Jenson would make a comment and y/n would be pissed that all the onlookers heard.

Y/n and Jenson’s relationship on the rocks?!

bitch the next morning he’s on top of her having the best make up sex ever.

Seriously their stamina is insane so they fuck like rabbits.

I feel like because y/n maybe has grown up in the public eye? Or fame came in her teens, her behaviour can be fairly erratic at times- like especially before Jenson the partying and boozing was out of control, but being a few years older he really settles her down in life.

like not that she’s troubled (I’m not gonna glamorise it but it’s real life) but it can’t be easy dealing with everything and fame at a young age, I feel like Jenson would take care of her at times, like if she gets wayyyy to drunk he wouldn’t lecture her, but he’d deffo have this sad look on his face, clearly he’s worried.

she’s ok tho, especially with him and like I said she settles down and matures a lot with Jenson.

She’d probs smoke weed every now and then and idk if Jenson would like it, especially when he’s so focused on racing, but he tries it once or twice and would probs just fall asleep immediately.

I feel like he’s so cuddly at times, like in the middle of the night he’d just snuggle up to her. So cute. On holiday on sunbeds he’d be so cuddly, grabbing at her and it causes for some really cute paparazzi pictures.

not to glamorise droogz and drinking but them two probably party a lot in the first year together.

Jenson is the type to eye his gf up from the other side of the room, nods her over or something sexy.

hand would start on your shoulder and end up on her ass- so many headlines the next day…

But yeah they’re such a popular, attractive couple, you either want to be with them or want to be them.

#jenson button x reader smut #jenson button smut #f1 smut #f1 x reader smut #f1 x reader #Jenson button x reader

[yjhariani]

Bad Ideas

Simon 'Ghost' Riley X GN!Reader Word count: 2000± Warning: Profanity, ankle injury Summary: Now, you're the one taking him out on a date.

A/N: So, I don't think I would ever write smut and that seems to be what people were expecting by the end of the last one (which is open to your own interpretation), but what I can provide is hopefully some cute shits happening some time after that.

“No,” you sighed. “Now that I’m here, I realise that this is a bad idea, Simon.”

“You took me here, Y/N,” Simon recalled.

“I know, but our opponents are likely teenagers or some weird, gamer guys with noodle arms and you’re a one man army who’s trained to shoot,” you reasoned.

“They have their practice in PUBG, we’re very much even,” Simon said.

It was a good idea at first. Maybe instead of him taking you on another date, you suggested that you should be the one taking him on the date.

For some reason, indoor paintball sounded like another good idea at that time. Which was why you both were here. For paintball.

It had been another few months since your latest, very lovely encounter with Simon. Last time, he spent a night in your flat and you delivered him back to his the next morning. Well, noon. There was a lot of delay.

Later that same day, Simon knocked on your door again and informed you that he was leaving for work, again. That was when you told him that you wanted to be the one taking him on a date instead of him taking you on another date in spite of him insisting that he was the one owing you a date.

Of course, upon his arrival home last night, Simon knocked on your door and you woke up on the same bed by the morning like last time. 

Today, being another Saturday, a few days after his arrival home, you finally executed your plan. It was a good idea after all. At the time. Up until this point. Until you changed your mind a few seconds ago.

“When we’re in the field, you do everything I say, alright? As long as you do that, I’ll keep you alive and I have your back,” Simon said.

“You can literally obliterate them in five seconds,” you pointed out.

“No,” Simon denied. “I’ll only need three seconds.”

Simon made sure that your goggles were secured whilst you looked at him in disbelief.

“This is a bad idea,” you said again.

“This is your idea,” Simon said. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

“I don’t know, like… everything goes awry and you’ll hate me to a point that you’d rather move out of your flat and we’ll never see each other again,” you said.

Simon let out a light chuckle, something you did not remember ever hearing before. There was something serene and satisfying about his laugh and who knew someone’s breathy, hitched, somewhat low voice could be like that.

“No,” Simon said, putting a hand on the side of your face. “The worst that could happen is you spraining your ankle or face planting on the ground. Maybe getting a few bruises. Of course, there are cases where—”

“Okay,” you cut off. “I get it.”

“Good,” Simon nodded.

Fast forward approximately twenty minutes later, you were in the field full of people screaming and yelling and a referee who was laughing their ass off.

Earlier, when Simon heard the other team—that happened to be a team of three and you were stuck going two against three for some reason—being very tactical, he decided that he should do the same though not as loud. He did that on purpose, saying everything in military terms and watched you struggle to understand half the things he was saying.

Simon, being very capable of obliterating your opponent in three seconds, decided that he wanted you to celebrate this… not so bad of an idea for a date. Most of the time, he was fishing the enemies out and had you take the killing shot. Well, until they took you out and Simon literally took out the remaining opponents in three seconds.

As you were about to get out of the field when it happened. The worst. Somehow, in a brief second, you tripped. Simon was ready to catch you, but alas he was too far behind you by inches.

As a result, you fell face forward on the ground.

In any instance, should any fall happen in any place where there was at least another person around, the damage would be more on the mental side than the physical. However, in spite of the embarrassment, the pain you felt on your ankle was felt impeccably.

“You alright, love?” Simon casually asked once he was kneeling next to you, helping you get up to sit at least.

Looking at him, though, you could see his eyes lighting up.

“I—my… Simon, the fucking worst just happened to me,” you replied. “And you think it's funny.”

“I don't," Simon said, but not really convincing you of his denial. "Where does it hurt?”

“My ankle,” you answered.

Simon scooted over to your feet level. Carefully, he put his hand on your ankle, but accidentally pressed too hard on it and triggered a yelp from you.

By then, a few people had passed along and you tried to serve them an awkward smile.

“Alright, you’re not walking on that,” Simon stated.

“What am I—”

“I’ll find something to wrap it up with, you wait here,” Simon proceeded before walking off.

Simon returned fairly soon after that with a roll of bandage. He sat on the level of your foot and looked at you in a questioning manner.

“What am I supposed to do?” you asked.

“Let me take your shoe and sock off and patch you up,” Simon said.

“Okay,” you nodded. “Are you sure?”

“I got my training, love,” Simon said as he started getting to work.

Even in a dire time, the way he addressed you like that still got your stomach churning.

As Simon wrapped your ankle with a bandage, you removed your gear and collected your shoe. Once he was done, Simon looked at you and you could feel his smile teasing you from behind that mask.

“It’ll get better,” Simon said. “Let’s get you home and get lazy."

“Sure,” you sighed, "Nurse Ghost."

Simon helped you to your feet. However, as soon as that happened, he swept you off your feet and carried you up.

“This is unnecessary,” you chuckled. “This is a bad idea.”

“This is you getting nursed,” Simon insisted.

Initially, you planned to take him somewhere else after this, but now that disaster happened, the two of you ended up getting on a cab to get back to your flat.

In the middle of the way, Simon put an arm around your shoulders. There was something about the way he held you that made you feel somewhat secured.

“I’m sorry this turned out disastrous,” you said, still somewhat embarrassed, but also felt quite alright now that Simon was still here.

“You did pretty well, actually,” Simon said. “If you pursue it, you could participate in a sniper competition with Soap in a few years.”

“Soap’s a sniper?” you questioned.

“He didn’t say?” Simon replied.

You shook your head. Simon only looked at you and patted you on the shoulder.

“I was gonna take you for ice cream,” you continued.

“You see the sky’s cloudy, right?” Simon replied.

“Even if it’s raining, I would’ve taken you there. They have hot chocolate,” you smiled. “With marshmallows.”

Simon said nothing, but you felt his smile again. Who knew if he was actually smiling, but it felt like he was. Maybe it was simply the tenderness in his eyes.

“We could have those at home,” Simon said. “Maybe watch something with ice on your ankle.”

“Am I reading this wrong or are you inviting me to cuddle?” you asked.

Not saying anything, Simon looked out the window.

When you both arrived, Simon helped you get out of the car and walked you both into the building. It took sometime, but soon enough you reached your floor.

Once you got off the lift, Simon picked you up and put you on his back like a backpack.

“What are you doing? I walked fine earlier,” you chuckled.

“Putting too much pressure on your injury is not a good idea,” Simon put out an open palm. “Key.”

“No,” you said.

Simon proceeded to walk towards his flat.

“Wow,” you said in disbelief.

Once inside, Simon sat you down on the sofa. He stretched your injured leg and made sure it was comfortable with a stack of cushions underneath it. After that, he hunched down on the backrest to level with your face, sort of peeping on it. He put his chin on his knuckles.

“What flavour ice cream do you want?” Simon asked.

“No,” you chuckled. “It should’ve been me asking you that.”

“I’ll guess, then,” Simon stood up.

Simon only looked at you. It seemed that there were a few thoughts going in his mind.

“What do you need?” Simon asked.

“I mean, you said ice for my ankle,” you answered. “But, I can get that myself, just a few doors away.”

“No,” Simon said. “I’ll get it. What else do you need?”

“The rest of the weekend with you?” you answered.

“Copy,” Simon said. “Give me ten minutes.”

Before he left your flat, he kissed you on the forehead through his mask.

If you were allowed to scream without getting any consequences, it would be really nice. It was probably either screaming or squealing. Maybe both.

He was so lovely and cute. Maybe Simon was too tough to actually admit that he was inviting you to cuddle, but the way he went around it was as admirable.

When Simon returned, he had a bag of ice and quite a number of snacks that he laid on the coffee table. He took the ice and moved next to your leg.

“You might want to get the ice cream first before they melt,” Simon said as he unwrapped the bandage from your foot.

“Simon—”

Simon cut you off by shushing you. He was not even looking at you.

So, you reached to get the ice cream. It was surprising that he got two tubs of your favourite ice cream flavour. 

“You might want to put one of these in your freezer,” you suggested.

“That’s where I put my heart,” Simon said as he was putting the ice on your foot, but before you could comment on his latest statement he said, “It’s not swelling too bad. Should be improving in a few days. Don’t walk on it.”

You handed him one of the two ice cream tubs.

“Thank you,” you said.

“I've done nothing yet,” Simon sighed before walking off for a moment.

Simon returned with two spoons and a mug. He joined you on the sofa, setting up his telly. You scooped half of the ice cream into the mug before presenting the two options to Simon. He took the mug.

By then, you were snuggled against him and whatever film Simon put on was starting.

“Nice way to end the day, don’t you think?” Simon asked.

“It’s 2 pm, Simon,” you said.

Simon lifted his mask to his nose. You looked at him and he delivered a kiss to your lips right away.

“What are we watching?” you asked, resting your temple on his chest.

“Something Soap recommended. He said it’s from a book,” Simon said. “Said something about Nicholas Sparks.”

“Oh, Simon,” you hummed, lightly chuckling. “Do I need to get worried that I might be ruining your relationship with him?”

“Let’s see how this goes and I’ll answer that by the end of this film,” Simon sighed.

Your light chuckle made Simon look at you.

“Maybe this is a bad idea,” Simon stated.

“The paintball was a bad idea, but this is not,” you stated.

“Just so you know, it was not a bad idea,” Simon said. “If the worst didn’t happen, I would’ve proposed for another game.”

A smile bloomed on your face.

Before actually investing in the film while eating ice cream, Simon kissed you on the temple.

Would it be a good idea to spend the rest of the weekend like this? Simon definitely did think so. Besides, it was his birthday weekend, he should treat himself a little.

However, of course, you had no idea that today was his birthday. Simon was tempted on telling you, but he did not care if you knew or not. He felt celebrated and that was enough for him.

@pasta-m1lk @cutiecusp

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

#simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost #ghost x reader #mind dump

[cockdestroyer32]

all mine

tangerine x fem!reader

word count: 2304

summary: after the events in the bullet train in tokyo, you and ladybug have a new job in a new place, unfortunately, you're not alone.

a/n: okay so in this reader's codename is sarin. and you're besties w ladybug bc I lov him. title is from brent faiyaz's 'all mine' which has nothing to do with this fic but I didn't know what to name this and I rlly love that song so. also no smut in this.

When I grow up, I wanna be famous I wanna be a star, I wanna be in movies, when I grow up I wanna see the world, drive nice cars, I wanna have groupies.

The song blew out of the car’s speakers, and both you and Ladybug sang each word perfectly (and very obnoxiously, you were practically yelling out the lyrics.) He drove and you sat in the passenger seat, you both swinging your arms around dancing tirelessly as the citizens of Greece who were able to spy inside the moving car judged your shameless partying. You hadn’t seen Ladybug in months, so when you found out you were finally going to be assigned to a mission together again, you both beamed, and got together to plan your entire trip from the cities of New York to the city of Larissa. You went from cackling a little too loudly at comedy movies on the plane, to endless chatter at the airport, to listening to your iconic super duper awesome 2000s hits playlist on a rented Jeep (the playlist title was Ladybug’s decision.) There’s no one you’d rather work with. Except…you weren’t working alone tonight. 

This hit wasn’t just any hit, it was a stakeout. So, Lemon and Tangerine were called. 

You had walked into Tangerine a few times before; New Zealand, Cuba, Romania, and Tokyo, of course. You’d been the longest with him while in Tokyo, when you had to team up because of a lost briefcase. He was incredibly irritating and the different ways you both did your job clashed immensely, but by the end of the night you two had worked frustratingly well together. 

You’d never met Lemon before though, you hoped to God he wasn’t just a Tangerine 2. 

“Oh, boo!” Ladybug starts and you join him when you look up.

“Booo!” You yell out at the warehouse as if it’s just told some awful joke at a stand-up show.

The building has the same architectural creativity as a cardboard box. Except that instead of brown, it’s grey and dirty, and instead of holding a gift you just spent the last days waiting anxiously to arrive at your home, it just holds the next gruesome hours you’ll spend planning your hit.

You and Ladybug allow The Pussycat Dolls to finish the last few seconds of their song and turn off BlueTooth before you can be sad about not singing Britney.

You sigh and say, “It’s gonna be a long night.”

“Yep, but the sooner we do it sooner we’re done. Come on, let’s meet the fruit duet.” You chuckle.

The warehouse acted as a lighthouse, the nighttime a sea of nothingness. You can spot the remnants of the trucks that passed by in this area marked in the muddy ground. Tonight smells of wet grass and fancy dinner parties, the ones you should be in right now.

You enter the warehouse, the night’s cold air vanishes and it shifts to a warm, still atmosphere. You take off your coat. Tangerine and two other men are already in the room. Even at such a dead spot in town, Tangerine is still dressed elegantly, sporting a blue striped suit that fitted him perfectly, and smelling of rich men’s perfume. You often wondered if he could fight in those suits. Although you loved a good luxurious suit—God knows your blood money could buy one, your closet was full of Versace, Vivienne Westwood, Dolce & Gabbana and Burberry—you preferred to wear more tactical outfits for the job, you know, in case someone fucked something up and everything went to shit.

“That’s Lemon, by the way.” Ladybug whispers to you, while pointing his head to the man standing in front of Tangerine.

“What? I thought they were supposed to be twins,” Ladybug shrugs.

“Um, I hope we’re not late…you’re Lemon I suppose?” You pretend like Ladybug didn’t just tell you and offer a handshake. He takes it.

“That’s right, and you’re...”

“Sarin.”

You look over to his brother.

“Tangerine.” A nod, no handshake.

“Sarin.”

“You’ve met Ladybug.” You say to the two brothers.

“Yes, we had the pleasure.” The taller man doesn’t hide the sarcasm.

“Accommodating as always, Tangerine.”

“So, shall we?” Says the other man in the room, the one who was managing this whole thing, and you all follow him.

He takes you to a desk where there lie multiple files on different workers and a big map layout of the warehouse. The man shows all of you the place, discussing what approach the team should take for the mission, at what time each one should arrive at the building, the shift times of each warehouse worker, the spots each one should be in…and so on and so forth. Time passes relatively quickly, demanding you and Ladybug a secret high-five, and you all turn to look at the man who’d organized this.

“Yeah. That’s it.” The man repeats.

“Yeah.” You agree, still looking at him.

“You can go home now.” He practically demands.

“Uhh, I’m pretty sure we’re supposed to get paid now,” Lemon adds.

“You’ll get paid after you get the job done.”

“Did you not get the memo lad? We get first half now and second half after the job is done.” Tangerine said.

“Yeah, we’re supposed to get paid now, didn’t our handler message you?” You asked honestly.

“Well I didn’t bring the money, so what do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know, but we’re getting paid.” Tangerine insisted.

“There are lots of ATMs in Larissa…” Ladybug spoke. The man mutters some curse word under his breath,

“Fine. I’ll get you your fucking money, but you’re gonna have to wait.” He disappears from sight, making his way up the stairs in the corner of the building.

“Damn, what a Gordon.” Lemon remarks.

“Thomas the Tank Engine?” You ask.

“Yeah.”

“Nah, I think he’s more of a James, just super cocky.”

“Oh my God, there’s two of them.” Tangerine sighs.

“I’m gonna go get some air.” You say.

With your coat in hand, you make your way to a backdoor on the side of the warehouse. Slipping the garment on as soon as you open it, the chilly air cutting through your skin. You slide your hand into one of the coat pockets, finding a small rectangular box and a smooth metallic item. You fish one of the cigarettes out of the box and light it, inhaling the nicotine, warming your body while letting yourself freeze in the moment. You were so far out of town that you couldn’t hear any of the cars, any of the people in Larissa, your team also seemed to be particularly quiet inside the building. Here, it was silent, save for crickets chirping in the vast nothingness that was the field at nighttime. Tomorrow it’d be full of people, receiving and delivering new packages, trucks coming and going and workers arguing amongst each other, all their chatter overlapping, sounds of life, until you all arrive and the sounds of an active workplace morph into that of an action movie, slashing and yelling (no guns, this was supposed to be a somewhat subtle and more practical job) and then, nothing. The building once again ghost quiet, but this time painted red. 

It didn’t bother you. You’d been in this business for way too long to be perturbed by the sounds of the dead now. You knew what you were getting yourself into from the beginning, this is no bombshell. Although the still of a city that’s beginning to fall asleep is much better than one that had its commotion ripped away from it. So you took these quiet moments you had to yourself and held them tightly in your hand, like some old trinket gifted to you by someone special. And for a few moments, as you exhaled the smoke out of your body, you felt outside of space and time, frozen in the moment, your feet planted on the ground, scared that if you move even an inch, you’ll fall off the face of the earth. You melt off the moment when you feel a pair of eyes on you.

Tangerine stands by the back door on your right, looking at you. You’re not sure how long he’s been there, but he has a calm look on his face, a smile on his eyes but not on his lips, by far much different than all of the ticked-off facial expressions you’d seen on him before.

“The fuck are you looking at?” You tease.

“Geez. I’ve just come to get some air.” He walks in your direction. You offer him your cigarette, he takes it. You two breathe together for a while before you ask,

“Do you like this?”

“What? Jobs in the middle of nowhere handled by some fucking dickhead who can’t even pay us right?”

“No. This.” You look around, motioning slightly to your surroundings, “The quiet. We don’t get a lot of it in our job.”

“I suppose we don’t,” He passes the cigarette back to you. “It is kinda nice, I can hear my thoughts for once, don’t have to listen to Lemon yapping about.”

You snort. “He’s nice. I was scared he was gonna be like you.”

“What? I’m nice.”

You stare at him.

“How am I not nice?” He continues.

“How are you not nice? Okay let’s see, you’re impatient, you’re always irritated, you look like you’re constantly on the edge of throwing a fit, you’re always cursing people out and you always got that look on your face of a teen girl who just got her phone taken away by her parents.”

He takes this in for a second, surprised at the speed of your answer, as if you’d been waiting for this moment for a while, and maybe you were.

“Hm…still think I’m nice.” He adds, you smile to yourself, nodding your head in fake disbelief.

You can feel his eyes on you, even as you take another puff on your cigarette and stare at the darkness. You don’t look back, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

“S, Fruit, guy’s back.” Ladybug pops out of the door, and you follow him back into the building, followed then by Tangerine. 

The man now holds bags of money, one for you and Ladybug, and one for Lemon and Tangerine. You finally leave the warehouse, each of you making your way to your hotel rooms. And you would’ve been able to wash the night off your body and rest on the hotel’s comfy bed, if it wasn’t for the misplaced amounts of money. See, your bag and Ladybug’s held only his share, not yours. Thankfully, it wasn’t some scam, your money was placed along with Lemon and Tangerine’s. So, now you’re going up an elevator to Tangerine’s room to get your share. You knock on 215 and he opens the door.

“Hey.”

“Hey, come in.” You walk into the room, but only close the door slightly, not shutting it, and you stand next to it, ready to just get your money and leave, not expecting to stay here any longer than you have to. He goes to the back of the room and brings back a bag, “Here.”

“Thanks,” You spy inside the room, the place is quiet, most of the lights are off and it holds only one bed. “Is Lemon not here?”

“No, different hotel, leave no trail and such.”

“Oh.” You’re genuinely surprised. Shit, that’s smart, perhaps you and Ladybug aren’t as great professionals as you thought you were—even if the bar when you two worked together was already pretty low.

“What? Is me delivering your money instead that bad?”

You snort. “No, no, that I don’t mind.”

You look at each other for a second, perhaps you should be on your way-

“Are you staying in Greece after the job?”

“Uh, no. Me and Ladybug are going back to New York right after.”

“Oh.” He looks down, the expression on his face something you can’t quite read. “Are you and Ladybug…”

“No! God, no!” You almost yell. “No, he’s my best friend.”

“Oh, right.”

“Why?”

“Just…curious.”

Hm. Curious. 

You stare at each other again, a smile on your eyes but not on your lips.

“Okay, I should get going.” You start opening the door to leave.

“Wait,” He says, grabbing your arm. “I think…you should stay here the night.” 

The smile reaches your lips, amused. “Why?”

“You know, you could just stay here the night, if you want…”

“Okay but, why?” You tease. He furrows his brows. “I’m sorry Tangerine, I just don’t know what you’re telling me.” Your words are of someone genuinely confused, but your face and tone tell a different story. He catches on and sighs.

“I’m just saying…you could spend the night here, with me.”

You click your tongue, “Tangerine…you have to speak clearly.”

He squeezes your arm, and approaches his face to yours, changing his tone, “Sarin. I want you to stay. I want you.”

You let your lips fully curve up this time, pleased.

You put both your hands on his face, and close the space between you, only placing a light kiss on his lips, then pulling away to see his reaction. He keeps his eyes shut for a moment, as if still in the moment. Then, he opens his eyes, staring at you for a second, and pulls you in for a stronger kiss. His hands at first cupping your face, then one makes his way towards you back, pulling you in closer, even though you were already as close as you could possibly be right now. You shut the door with your foot behind you, not letting each other go for even one second. Tonight your own bed’s gonna have to wait for you.

#bullet train fanfic #tangerine bullet train #bullet train tangerine #tangerine #tangerine fanfic #tangerine fic #tangerine fanfiction #tangerine x you #tangerine x fem!reader #aaron taylor johnson #bullet train #tangerine x reader

[feyhunter78]

Fey's 2000 Follower Celebration!!!!

Description: It's Gabi's first day of first grade, and it gets Miguel thinking about when he first arrived in this universe. Pink Pastels Masterlist

“Papá, come on we’re going to be late.” Gabi pouts, tugging on the sleeve of his lab coat, her bright pink backpack sitting snuggly on her shoulders, her dark hair pulled up into a ponytail with a blue hair tie.

“I just want to make sure you have everything Mija.” Miguel says, going over his mental checklist. Lunch? Check. Pencil bag? Check. Name tag on her shirt with her name and classroom number? Check. Colorful tag shaped like a car that indicates she’s drop off and pick up only? Attached securely to her backpack. He knows she has everything; he packed her bag the night before, but he can’t stop himself from worrying.

“Come on, I want to get to school, I want to meet my new friends!” Gabi tugs harder, heading towards the door.

He chuckles. She’s so unlike him in this aspect, she isn’t afraid to put herself out there or go up to kids she doesn’t know and try to make friends. She relishes the challenge, and he almost envies her confidence.

“Okay, okay, we’ll go.” He says, ruffling her hair affectionately.

She smiles up at him, grabbing his hand and pulling him out the door.

He lets he chose the music on the drive there, sings along softly to the Spanish songs she’s chosen, glancing up at the rearview mirror every so often to look at her.

Gabi is staring out the window, memorizing the route—just in case I make new friends, and we want to walk to school together—she told him in a very matter of fact tone.

He can’t imagine ever letting her walk to school. Of course, the streets are safe, he’s made sure of that, and she’d be walking with other kids, and most likely a parent, but his stomach churns at the idea of anything ever happening to her.

“Gabi?” Miguel asks, struck by a sudden need to confirm that she knows just how loved she is.

“Yeah?” Gabi replies, looking away from the window and towards him.

“You know I love you, right?” He asks, a smile tugging at his lips when he sees her smile.

“Yep, more than the sun loves the sky.” She says cheerily, easily, without a single moment of hesitation.

He bites the inside of his cheek to keep the tears from welling in his eyes. He spent so long searching for her, so long trying his best to be a father worthy of her. To never doubt that he loves her, to never wonder and fear as he did growing up.

“And guess what, Papá?” She says in a singsong voice.

“What?”

“I love you more than the moon loves the sea.” She says, beaming at him, her tone filled with that pure honesty that you can only find in children.

And here comes the waterworks.

Miguel manages to stop himself from crying by the time they pull into her school’s parking lot, and Gabi is already unbuckling her seatbelt.

“We’re here! We’re here!” She’s jiggling the door handle, which he would usually ask her not to do, but she’s so excited he can’t bring himself to correct her.

He turns off the car and slides out, opening the door for her and helping her out.

Gabi hits the ground running, already seeing her friends from kindergarten. She bolts forward, the sound of his name being called by another parent taking his attention away for a split second.

It all happens so fast, he looks away then hears the sound of brakes squealing, and someone shouting. His heart races, all his senses going into overdrive. Gabi is wrapped in the arms of a woman in a pink dress, Gabi’s cries filling his ears.

Miguel is there by her side in a second, pulling her from the woman. “What happened?”

“I didn’t see the car, I forgot to look, Papá I’m sorry.” She clings to him, burying her face in his lab coat.

“My goodness, I’m so glad I grabbed her in time.” The woman says, one hand pressed to her heart.

Miguel looks up, for a moment. She’s shorter than him, most people are, with a lovely figure wrapped in soft-looking fabric, her hair styled in a way that frames her face but still keeps it from getting in her eyes.

“Thank you, Ms?” He realizes he doesn’t know her name, he meant to go to Meet the Teacher Night, but he was called away.

“Y/N, Ms. Y/N Y/L/N, I’m Gabi’s teacher.” You say, giving him a bright smile.

“Ms. Y/N, thank you, I’m glad Gabi has a teacher with quick reflexes.”

“Oh yeah, I’m like a cat.” You joke.

He smiles, and he feels Gabi giggle against his coat.

“Like a cat, that’s silly.” She says, pulling herself away from him to face you.

“Oh really? Well, I have a lot more silly sayings ready for the school year if you’d like to hear them?” You tell her, bending slightly at your knees to look her in the eyes.

“Yes, please.” Gabi says, sniffling.

“Okay, but have to hold my hand, and no more running in the street.” You warn playfully, holding your hand out to her.

“Okay!” Gabi says, grabbing your hand, her fear vanishing as she wipes away her tears, her smile back in full force.

But Miguel can’t brush off his fear that easily, and his fingers catch on Gabi’s backpack.

She turns to look at him. “Oh, Papá, I almost forgot.” She lunges at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Bye, I’ll see you later!”

He crushes her to his chest, burying his face in her hair. “Bye Mija, be good.”

She wriggles out of his grasp and grabs your hand again, before waving goodbye and letting you lead her inside the school.

Miguel remains on his knees for a second, watching as you both disappear inside the building, before he stands and brushes himself off, heading towards his car.

He drives to Alchemax in silence, pulls into the parking lot in silence, and walks to his office in silence. He sits at his desk, boots up his computer, and tries to force himself to concentrate. His desk saver is a picture of him and Gabi on her fourth birthday. She’s got icing all over her face and hands, and she’s reaching for him, one tiny hand covered in frosting finding its mark on his cheek. He’s smiling, she’s laughing, and he remembers how when that picture was taken, he was so afraid everything would disappear, and he’d be left with only photos, and videos once again.

 “Hey Miggy, just wanted to check on you.” Monica’s voice floats through the crack in the door she’s made by opening it without knocking, a terrible habit she has, but he finds it less annoying on days like this.

He gives her a weary smile. “It’s easier than last time, but still hard.”

She gives him a sympathetic grimace. “I’m here if you need to talk.”

He thanks her, and she closes his office door, her heels clicking on the tile of the hallway as she walks away.

Miguel smiles as the screen changes to a picture he took. Gabi is three, curled in his lap, head resting on his arm, Oso tucked underneath her arm.

He remembers the adrenaline that rushed through him when he got the alert. How he activated the program that transferred all commands to Jessica and Peter, and left them with a quick goodbye.

This universe’s Miguel was dead, Gabi would be placed in his mother’s care, unless Monica fought hard enough for custody, which he now had no doubt she would’ve done, no matter how chill she tried to portray herself as.

It was the perfect opportunity; one he would not waste. So, he left, took Lyla and his meager possessions, studied all he could about the old Miguel and became him—to an extent.

It was dark in his apartment, quiet, Gabi was asleep, Margo from next door asleep on the couch, some random telenovela playing at a low volume.

Miguel switched it off as he turned on one of the lamps, gently shaking her awake.

She jolted awake then relaxed, giving him a sleepy smile as she patted him on the shoulder and made her way down the hall.

He stood in Gabi’s doorway, almost afraid to go in. Would she recognize him, would she reject him? Somehow be able to tell he was not the father she knew, or would she love him as much as he loved her? They were blood, she was his daughter, and he was her father no matter what universes or canon events separated them.

Miguel gathered up his courage and stepped inside. Her room was different, a forest green instead of pink, with white accents, and glow in the dark stars on the ceiling. She’s still in a crib, she’s three now, soon he’ll need to transition her to a toddler bed, but when he leans against the railing, gazing down at her, he finds he wishes she would stay this little forever.

Her eyes slowly open, and she smiles at him, ever observant his daughter is.

“Hola Mija, lo siento, ¿te desperté?” He whispered, reaching into her crib and gently brushing her cheek with one bent finger. Trsl: Hello daughter, I’m sorry, did I wake you/wake you up?

She grabs it, then grabs more of his hand with surprising strength, pulling herself up into a sitting position.

That’s new.

“Papá’s back.” She said sleepily, cuddling Oso closer.

“Yes, I’m back.” He said softly. “And I’m never leaving you again.”

“Can I sleep with you?” She asked, letting go of his hand to reach out to him, silently asking to be picked up.

“Of course, Mija,” Miguel said, scooping her up and supporting her back with his hand.

“Yay, night Papá.” Gabi whispered, already falling back asleep.

He didn’t sleep that night, just stayed up watching her, marveling over the fact that he got another chance to be with his daughter. He wouldn’t mess it up this time, no matter what happened, he would not lose her.

Gabi is having a great first day at school. She got to pick the music on the way to school, survived running in the street, and her teacher is the nicest person ever.

Ms. Y/N is so beautiful, like a princess, Gabi thinks, and you answer everyone’s questions about yourself, even the silly ones like who your favorite Wild Kratt is and if you have a boyfriend.

She notices that you look a little sad when you answer that one, and it piques her interest. Gabi likes to think of herself as an amateur detective, her and Oso have solved many cases already. Like the case of the missing sock—the dryer ate it, or the case of the monster in the couch—her papa snores when he falls asleep watching TV.

She is also an expert in emotions and drama, Tia Margo says so herself when Gabi figures out the plot to their favorite shows before she does.

So once the school day is almost over, and you come around to her desk to collect her first day worksheet—really, it’s a few questions about her and some really fun things to color, not work at all, which she likes—she asks why you looked sad.

“Sad? Did I look sad? Oh, don't worry, I’m not.” You reassure her, taking her worksheet and adding it to the pile in your arms.

“My papá is single, if your boyfriend makes you sad again, you can marry him instead.” She says confidently, packing up her colored pencils and pens.

“Oh—that’s very nice of you to offer, sweetheart, but I think I’ll stick with my boyfriend.” You tell her, seeming a little bit embarrassed.

She likes when you call her sweetheart, and when you smile at her, and tell her how pretty her drawings are. She wishes you were her mom, not just her teacher.

“Okay…but if you change your mind! Let me know first because Ryan’s mom is single too, and I don’t want her to try and take my papá from you.”

You laugh at that and shake your head affectionately. “You have quite the mind, don’t you?”

“My papa says I’m very smart.” She says proudly.

“And he’s right.” You squeeze her shoulder then move onto her tablemates.

Maybe she’ll ask Lyla to help her come up with a way to get your boyfriend out of the picture? There are plenty of ways, she’s seen them on the telenovelas, but she doesn’t actually know how to find someone’s evil twin. She’ll definitely have to ask Lyla about that.

Gabi isn’t worried, though, the year has just started and there’s plenty of time for you and her papá to fall in love.

Tag list: @miggyoharaswife, @badbishsblog, @imisshim2much, @wanderlustingcastaway, @lynn-9703, @sleepyamaya, @erensbbg, @sweetea85, @ilovemiguelohara, @natthernandez, @stxrrielle, @ihateuguys, @jenniferdixon05207, @blep-23, @luvisaaxoxo, @minimari415, @emerald-09, @violet-19999, @kenchosaikuo, @groovycass, @youcantseem3, @lovefks, @nightshxdex, @dusstory, @aesniri, @munsonssecretblog, @kirke-is-my-name, @starbearieee, @chatoicboy, @act1839, @needsleep3000, @totally-not-georgia, @witchy-lizard, @cxmeiloorun7, @justrandomlolidk, @chimpkinnuggies, @alicefallsintotherabbithole, @loser-alert, @wwwellacom, @ryantryan6969, @lollipopin, @blakeaha, @youcantseem3, @a-cult-leader, @verexi, @purpleskiesandroses, @they2luv1naia, @sophiaj650, @idolautism, @rheannajrs, @merakiq, @rexs-wife, @sukaretto-n, @twilight-loveer, @f1shb0nez, @callsign-blue, @marcelineormars, @sxnasbitch, @111gltzpzy, @lucilavenxoxo, @ray-rook, @elizamelody, @soapbar99, @trashieboii, @erissco, @gardenof-venus, @vlads-dracula3

TL 2: @yaoisenpaiii, @the-occasional-artist1125, @polireader, @mvchmp, @shadowxfheaven, @hxlytrin, @melomichuwu, @weirdothatwritess, @ash-aragami, @deguzu, @angelarcheangel, @nekotaetae, @milohatesspit, @lollipop974, @miggyyyyohara, @itzsab, @namjooningera, @hana-1235, @amberpanda99, @joceymoo, @tfamidoingwithmylife, @itsashree, @battinsonwhore05, @namjooningera, @tortilla-chips-and-allioli, @fluffy-koalala, @fandom-ash, @angelarcheangel, @yuuotosaka3, @latersgaters-steven, @ariparri, @wanda-maximoff-enthusiast, @lycaninelizard, @angelarcheangel, @yuuotosaka3, @allysunny, @lollipopin, @allysunny, @loves0phelia, @caslistener

#meg's writing #I just want to say thank you to all of y'all who have been with me from the beginning and all my newbies #I'm so grateful y'all give me such a supportive and loving place for all my ideas #miguel’s pastels #miguel o'hara x reader #I'm actually at 2014 but I needed time to write this XD #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n

[sellawrites]

MEET ME IN THE POURING RAIN

word count: 2k

pairing: caitlin clark x reader

⚠️warnings⚠️

swearing, angst (somehow)

prompts:

the fame and pressure hitting caitlin a bit differently one day that she leaves practice early which she never does. her worried teammates all text you about it when you’re in the library and you quickly leave and you eventually find her shooting shots alone in an outside court off campus

best friends to lovers (i had to)

you and caitlin’s first kiss being outside in the rain

You woke up to your phone ringing, realizing with a start that you’d fallen asleep studying in the library. Seeing who it was, you immediately answered. “Hey Mon, what’s up?” you asked groggily.

“Did you not get any of my texts?” Monika practically screamed into the phone. “We’re really worried about Caitlin! Do you know where she is?”

“What happened?” you asked worriedly. Frantically, you opened your messages to see 16 different texts from Monika, Kate, and some more of Caitlin’s teammates that you barely knew.

Monika sighed. “I don’t know. She seemed fine most of practice, but near the end she missed a 3 and just ran out. That’s never happened before, and it was a really tough shot anyway. Please tell me you found her!” Monika’s voice broke and a pit settled in your stomach.

“I’m so sorry, Mon, I was studying and fell asleep. I’m just seeing all this now, but I promise I’ll go find her,” you attempted to reassure her.

“Thank you so much! I’ll let you know if she comes back, but I have to get back to practice,” Monika said regretfully.

“It’s alright, you’ve done what you can. I’m sure she’s fine,” you said brightly, hoping Monika couldn’t see through the fake positivity.

You packed up your books in record time and sprinted to the dorm you shared with Caitlin. You knocked before entering in case she needed privacy, but you knew that it didn’t matter the second you stepped inside. Everything was exactly how you’d left it. She hadn’t even come here and definitely wasn’t here now.

Dumping your books on the table, you tried to call Caitlin again and again, but everything went to voicemail. You started to panic. This wasn’t like her at all.

You rushed around campus looking everywhere that you’d ever gone with Caitlin, but had no luck. It was getting dark and the tears that you’d been fighting back were starting to spill down your cheeks. You realized that it had started raining at some point, but you were so focused on finding Caitlin that you hadn’t noticed.

Resolving to call the police if she wasn’t in your dorm when you got back, you turned to go home, crying openly now. Suddenly, you remembered the hidden basketball court in a park 5 minutes away from campus.

It didn’t make a lot of sense, but you decided that it was worth a shot. When you and Caitlin had passed it months ago, it hadn’t seemed like anything special to you, but Caitlin had been ecstatic. “It’s purple! Have you ever seen a purple basketball court? And the bushes on all the sides? It’s so awesome!” she’d gushed as you’d rolled your eyes. Nevertheless, you’d stayed with her for another half hour as she ran around and shot imaginary baskets before you’d both collapsed onto the ground and laughed hysterically.

You were so lost in the memory that you were surprised to already see the four tall hedges that surrounded the court looming in front of you. You took a deep breath and brushed the wet hair out of your face. You knew you needed to go in, but you hesitated at the gate. If she wasn’t there, what would you do with yourself?

Concern for Caitlin outweighed your worst-case scenario thoughts, and you opened the gate and stepped onto familiar purple court. The gate was close to the bleachers, so you couldn’t see if anyone was there in the fading light. You took a few tentative steps forward before hearing the clang of a ball bouncing off the rim followed by cursing in a voice that you immediately recognized as Caitlin’s.

You wanted to run over to her, but realized that she maybe still needed some space if she had gone to all this trouble not to let anyone know where she was. You were already drenched, so you sat down on the bleachers with a sigh. You watched Caitlin shoot over and over and over again, making perfect shot after perfect shot. She shot from everywhere, and when you thought to start counting, she made 37 shots in a row. Finally, the ball rolled around the rim and out, and Caitlin sank to the ground with her head in her hands.

You cautiously walked over to her. “Linnie, it’s me. Everyone is so worried about you. Mon, Kate, your whole team. What’s wrong?” you asked, keeping your voice calm. You hoped that using your childhood nickname for her would be comforting somehow.

Caitlin looked up at you in confusion and you could see the tear tracks on her face even in the rain. “How did you find me? And Linnie? Really? It’s been years. Please just leave me alone… I have to fix my shot and I can’t deal with other people watching. I’m fine.” Her words were firm but her voice caught on the last declaration.

You didn’t know exactly why, but you were suddenly angry. “No, you’re clearly not fine! And don’t lie to me, I don’t deserve that! We all called and texted, you should’ve answered someone. Do you know how scary that was for all of us? For me? You’re the most important person in my life and I couldn’t get to you! Caitlin, I was just about to call the police for fuck’s sake!”

Caitlin took a shaky breath before blurting out an explanation. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think anyone would mind. I just needed to get away and I couldn’t bring myself to go back. You’re making this so much harder, please just go,” she whispered, looking up at you with glistening eyes. “I’ll come back tonight, I promise.”

“Caitlin Elizabeth Clark, I’ve never left you before and I’m not leaving you now,” you declared. “If you want to stay here and shoot for some reason, I’ll stay with you. But I don’t think that’s going to fix whatever is up with you. You and I both know that your shot is perfect, so it has to be something else. Please, just talk to me.” Caitlin opened her mouth like she was going to speak, but closed it again. Shrinking under your determined gaze, she sat down and stared at the ground.

“No matter what I do, I know that it’s never going to be good enough. I’m never going to be good enough! How can I be what they say I should be if I can’t even hit 50 shots in a row? All those times my dad yelled at me to try harder, and it didn’t even matter!” Caitlin shook as sobs wracked her body and you swore that you felt your heart shatter. “I just- I just don’t want to let anyone down! There’s so many peoples’ hopes riding on me and I don’t want to disappoint them,” she sniffled, still refusing to look at you. You sat down beside her and tentatively placed your hand on her back.

“It’s okay… it’s not your fault if people care that much about what you do, and you’re amazing already. This is proof that you care so much, which will make you fantastic,” you praised her. “You’ve won so many awards already, and through it all you’re the same wonderful person that you’ve been since I met you.” You realized you were crying now, too. Caitlin buried her head in your shoulder, clearly crying again. You gently tilted her chin up so you could look at her.

“Listen to me, okay Linnie? If it’s too much, you can always stop or take a break and no one will fault you for it or if they do I’ll punch them. No one wants to see you work so hard that you stop having fun! 50 shots in a row is insane, and somehow you still almost made it on a non-regulation outdoor court that you’ve never played on, in the pouring rain, in a terrible mental state, while crying your eyes out! Do you understand how actually crazy that is?” You couldn’t help but be a bit in awe of her, even given the circumstances.

“I only made 44 in a row, that’s not even that close,” Caitlin pouted. “And I don’t want to take a break, I think today was just weird or something because I promise I’m not usually like this,” she rambled as you moved her hair away from her face. “And how is this crazy? I know it’s not the easiest solution, but it’s not my fault that it started raining, and-” You cut her off with a kiss, not knowing how else to express all of your emotions that had just surfaced.

“Shit Caitlin, I’m sorry! That was so wrong, I should’ve asked first, or just not done it… I’m so sorry please forget about that,” you apologized instantly. To your surprise, Caitlin was smiling for the first time since you’d found her.

“Don’t worry, it’s okay,” she said quietly, looking into your eyes. You watched her gaze shift briefly to your lips and were sure that you had to be imagining it. There was no way that your best friend could possibly feel the same way, was there?

Still smiling, Caitlin laid down on her back and pulled you on top of her. You barely had time to notice how beautiful she looked with her wet hair fanned out around her head before she was grabbing your face and pressing your lips together.

Caitlin pulled away just enough to speak, keeping your foreheads pressed together. “Do you know how many years I’ve been waiting for you to do that?” she said almost reverently.

“Years?” you exclaimed in shock. “I literally realized I was in love with you like a minute ago!”

“You’re in love with me?” Caitlin asked, a hopeful look in her eyes.

You thought back to all your years of friendship. You’d done everything for her. You weren’t sure if best friends followed each other to university, but you were sure that they didn’t look at each other the way you’d been looking at Caitlin since you were 15.

“I think I always have been,” you smiled. “I think there’s just always been so much going on that I didn’t notice until now somehow.”

“Oh. my. god. You love me!” Caitlin was grinning like a maniac. “I love you too, by the way,” she smirked, kissing your forehead. Her joy was contagious. Soon, you couldn’t stop smiling either.

“I don’t really want to ask you this while I’m sitting on top of you, but would you, Caitlin Clark, the greatest basketball player ever, who is allowed to take breaks, like to be my girlfriend?” you asked, throwing a pointed look in her direction when you mentioned taking breaks.

“I would love to… as long as the breaks are time to hang out with you,” Caitlin agreed enthusiastically. You smiled down at her. Tangling your hands in her hair, you leaned in for a passionate kiss. You made out on the court until the crack of lightning made you both jump away from each other.

“I think we should get home,” you said, offering Caitlin your hand. She accepted it, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug once she was on her feet.

“Thank you for finding me,” she mumbled into your neck. You felt her say something else as she pulled away, but didn’t know what it was.

“You’re welcome, I’d do it every time,” you replied. “What did you say after that, though?”

Caitlin smiled evilly. “I suggested that we have a hot shower together when we get home,” she said casually as she went to pick up her basketball.

“What the fuck, Caitlin? We haven’t even been dating for an hour!” you yelled after her, trying to keep the smile out of your voice.

“I guess that’s something I have to look forward to, then,” she tossed over her shoulder. You ran to catch up with her, rolling your eyes.

You left the park hand in hand, warmed by the sun that had miraculously broken through the storm clouds.

#cait my love #meet me in the pouring rain #caitlin clark #caitlin clark x reader

[whencartoonsruletheworld]

i feel like we’re finally at the age of information transparency on the internet that studio head execs are showing their own asses in an unprecendented way. like we all knew they were bigoted old farts who hate minorities and animation as a medium BUT now we have the entire hbo max tobacle, and that’s only the most obvious.

recently two tv shows for wings of fire and phoebe and her unicorn were cancelled– the first because of netflix budget cuts and the second because “nobody wants to watch a female-led show.” as for the latter, that’s so obviously not true that it’s laughable, what with basically every disney animated show being female-led and extremely popular incl. owl house and amphibia, legend of korra being revered rightfully for its badass queer woc main, the female-led infinity train seasons being just as popular as the male-led, my little pony getting a terrifying number of fans... i don’t even have to explain this to y’all i don’t know why i am, it’s just obvious that isn’t the case. the reason i lumped it in with wings of fire though is it shows that these execs literally have their heads so far up their own asses they don’t realize that they’re literally throwing away money. both wings of fire and phoebe are EXTREMELY popular with their target demographic– i work at a library and go to bookstores like, once a week, and wings of fire is THE kids’ series right now– every library and bookstore has a dedicated shelf just for it, every kid in the us and canada reads these gay lil dragon books. i don’t know much about phoebe but i do know that i have to shelf her graphic novels every goddamn day so they’re getting checked out constantly. making these shows would give these studios an immediate HUGE audience but they don’t want it because.......... ???? honestly the only thing i can think of is bias against animation, but also i do know that while WoF is very cishet in the first few books, later books add quite a few queer dragons and that could def be a reason. 

netflix also recently told craig mccracken, creator of some of the most beloved kids shows of the 2000s, that “original content doesn’t sell anymore” and they need to do reboots and remakes instead. which is funny coming from the company that made stranger things which, while nostalgia-bait for the 80s, is an original fucking story. also the owl house and amphibia are disney’s top shows rn. the most popular kids movie right now is encanto, a completely original story. and that’s just in KIDS MEDIA, do i need to bring up the popularity around everything everywhere all at once, squid game, the knives out franchise, etc? we’re in an age of remakes and reboots yeah but original stories can still make money and gain fans if you make a good fucking product. but netflix doesn’t care about that, as evidenced by how fast they cancelled first kill and also every other show that was good.

and idk what it is but something about the state of the internet right now means that we’re all seeing this in a way we hadn’t before. we’re all seeing how fucking dumb these execs are– well, dumb or actively malicious. or even trying to commit corporate suicide for some reason. it’s just interesting to me that all this is happening now when in the past we were just kinda like. stuck with whatever we got

#mine

[dancingtotuyo]

If my Hands Could Fix It (Joel Miller)

Part 4 of Build You the World Joel X Reader Rating: PG-13 (Language and some sexual references) Warnings: fluffy, angst, talk of pregnancy related things, trying to conceive, struggling to conceive. Tags: pre outbreak/no outbreak, fluff, craftsman!Joel, we're in the 90s folks... but wait... also the year 2000! Words: 4260

Series Master List | Author Master list

You and Joel got married in April in the backyard. Joel built a pergola that you covered in wildflowers and baby’s breath. It was a small ceremony, only about 35 people, but you preferred it that way.

You went to Mexico for your honeymoon. A week on a beach full of sand, sun, and sex. A lot of sex with no children to interrupt you or for you to accidentally wake up. Panic hit on day 3  when you realized you hadn’t taken your birth control pills and only ensued when you realized the pills were still sitting on the bathroom counter at home. You rifled through your bags for a fourth time just to be certain. 

“Darlin, what's wrong?”

You looked up. Joel already had his swim trunks on and a towel over his shoulder. His farmer’s tan was fading from just a couple days on the beach. “I think I left something at home.”

“Can’t be that important-”

“My birth control.”

“Oh.” 

You looked at him. He seemed to recall the events of the past few days but said nothing else. 

“Just “oh”? That’s all you have to say?” You stared at him.

He smiled at you, taking your hand. He pressed them to his mouth. Your shoulders dropped. “I can go buy condoms.” His thumbs worked slow circles into your palms. “Or… we could just see what happens.” 

“What about our plan?” The five-year one. Baby-making wasn’t a part of that for another year. 

He laughed. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re really bad at planning shit, baby.”

You couldn’t help it as your lips ticked upward. It was true. You and Joel didn’t plan things. They just happened. The five-year plan the two of you started was your biggest attempt thus far and here you were, less than 2 months later talking about deviating, or maybe you’d already ruined it. 

You let the thoughts of another kid wash over your mind. Pregnancy hadn’t been this wonderful, carefree experience for you, but it hadn’t been all that bad either. You decided not to dwell on the 36 hour labor experience. Sweet baby snuggles, late night feedings, smiles, first steps, temper tantrums, and I love yous all drifted through your mind. You weren’t sure if you were ready for it all right now, but you could be if you had to. Lord knows you weren’t ready the first time. 

Releasing a deep breath, you nodded. “Okay, let’s just see what happens.”

Joel grinned. He kissed you, hands wandering over the skin your bathing suit didn’t cover. “Now let’s get you onto the beach.”

~

You didn’t get pregnant on your honeymoon. The relief you thought you’d feel upon seeing the negative test was replaced with disappointment. You tossed the test into the trash can.

Walking out of the bathroom, your eyes landed on Joel, reading in bed. You cocked your head to the side. He wasn’t a reader like you, but it wasn’t uncommon for him to read about woodworking techniques or the history of construction. Boring topics to you, but he could and had gone on for hours about both. You enjoyed watching the way his eyes lit up when he started on the topic, but the book he currently held was one of yours. 

“Watcha got there?” You smiled but you felt its lack. It pulled at your face awkwardly. 

Joel’s eyes darted up over the book, an eyebrow raised. “This is pure filth, darling.” 

You laughed, straddling his abdomen. “Where do you think I learned all my tricks?” You took the book from him, checking the cover. “This is nothing, baby.”

“And here I took you for an academic, readin all the time. Is our whole relationship a lie?” He grinned, hands settling on your bare thighs. 

“Yes, I’ve just been scamming you so I have a place to store my many filthy books.” You winked. 

He chuckled, pulling your palm to his lips. He always did that to soothe you. Were you that readable?  

“Whatcha thinking about?” 

Guess the answer was yes. “Nothing, it’s nothing.” You shook your head. 

His brow furrowed. “Baby…”

You shrugged, splaying your palms on his chest. His fingers trailed over your knee and up your thigh. You showed tremendous interest in the logo on his shirt, biting your lip. You felt the pressure behind your eyes. “It’s just…” You sighed. “The pregnancy test was negative and it’s stupid.” Moisture pressed to surface level. You wiped it away. “I mean, I thought I would be relieved, and now I’m crying.” You wiped more tears away with a small laugh. 

Joel continued to rub your thighs. His brown eyes met yours. “I think I’m a little disappointed too.” 

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled in your chest. The skin around Joel’s eyes crinkled, his dimple popping out. You leaned down, touching your forehead to his. “So that means…” 

“Fuck the five-year plan.” Joel grinned. 

You repeated it back and pressed your lips to his. 

You threw out your birth control the next morning. 

~

You’d heard about women tracking their cycles and taking ovulation tests and postponing sex until ovulation, but all of that sounded a bit overwhelming. You’d conceived Asher while taking birth control religiously. You thought it would just happen. 

But three months and 4 negative pregnancy tests later, you found yourself staring at the ovulation kits. Did you go with the cheapest option? How many did you buy? Before going on birth control, you’d been very aware of when you were ovulating and since coming off it, you were fairly certain of when you were as your sex drive kicked up roughly every four weeks. 

“Go with the brand in the blue box.” 

You turned around. Marcia Crawly, a mom from Sarah’s soccer team, smiled at you. You were pretty sure she was on the PTO as well.  

“Oh, thanks,” You forced a smile.

You grabbed the recommended box, cheeks heating up. This shouldn’t be embarrassing. You were a grown married woman with children. 

“No problem. You and Joel are trying?” 

Oh lord, not grocery store small talk in the family planning aisle. “Uh… yeah.” You tossed the box into your cart. Marcia didn’t seem like the kind to spread the word, but you didn’t know her that well. 

“If you want any tips, just reach out. I know all the things to do.” She smiled. 

You thought of Marcia's 4 children all born within 24-28 months of one another. She’d mentioned that fact several times in passing as if it was some kind of accomplishment. It never occurred to you until now that perhaps she’d meticulously planned it that way. 

“Um… yeah, sure. I will.” You wouldn’t. 

“See you at the soccer game this weekend.” She waved. “And good luck.” Marcia winked at you before continuing on her own.

Joel was working in the garage when you got home. Sarah had asked for a bookshelf “all for herself” for her birthday. In the summer boom of work, Joel hadn’t been able to start on it until tonight. Sarah’s birthday was a week ago. You knew he felt bad, but there were other gifts to unwrap, and Sarah got to stay up late that night helping Joel design it. You were pretty sure it was twice the undertaking Joel originally planned. 

With the groceries put away, you went to investigate the lamplight from Sarah’s room. You noticed it when you got home. Her door was cracked. You tapped on it before entering. Sarah peeked up over the cover of her book. You smiled. “It’s past your bedtime, Sarah Joy.”

“Dad said I could read.”

You glanced down at your watch, soft laughter contained. “It’s 10:30.” You laid down next to her pulling her into your side. “Watcha reading?” 

Sarah cuddled into you. “Box car children- Haunted Cabin Mystery.” 

“Is it any good?”

Sarah nodded. “Not as good as the original series.”

“Well, nothing can beat the original series.

You took an extra minute to hold her. She was getting so big. You didn’t know how long she would continue to let you hold her like this. 

Sarah nodded, pressing her back into you as she continued to read. “15 more minutes. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“Goodnight, kiddo. I love you.” You kissed her cheek and tickled her sides.

Sarah’s laughing squeal filled the room. “Mama!” 

You laughed. “Sarah!”

“Okay, okay!” She struggled to catch her breath and you relented. Sarah kissed your cheek. “Goodnight. I love you.” 

You crawled out of the bed laughter still in your movements. “15 minutes.” You reminded

“I know.”

You took a mental picture of Sarah, freshly 10 years old snuggled in bed with a book, and filed it away. 

You peeked into Asher’s room. He slept curled up over a pillow, just like Joel did when he fell asleep before you made it to bed. You tiptoed in, pushing back his sweat-damp curls. He ran hot when he slept. Something he also got from his daddy. Pressing your lips to his forehead, you pulled the covers down to keep him cool. 

Opening the fridge, you grabbed a drink before joining Joel in the garage. He shot a smile your way as he marked measurements onto the boards, but said nothing. You returned his smile. You forwent the stool, opting to sit directly on the workbench. The condensation from the bottle was slick in your hands from the late July heat. 

You swung your feet back and forth noticing the absence of the radio tonight. The cicadas and crickets chirped in harmony. The quick buzz of the table saw joined them as Joel made a single precise cut. He looked hot with the pencil behind his ear.

“You’re gonna get sawdust all over your shorts.”

 He walked over leaning against the workbench. He smelled like pine and dirt. Your favorite. You couldn’t help it as you leaned toward him. 

“Guess you’ll have to clean me off then.” You winked sipping on your drink.

Joel eyed the bottle in your hand. You’d pretty much stopped drinking since the two of you decided to have another baby. 

“Somethin happen at the grocery store?” Joel reached behind you, grabbing his drink. He rested his other hand on your thigh. 

“I ran into Marcia Crawly as I was getting ovulation tests. She offered to give me all the tips and tricks if I needed them.” 

Joel paused, bottle mid-air. His face read somewhere between amusement and concern as he swallowed his beer. “The whole PTO gonna know now?”

“Doesn’t seem the type, but I guess we’ll find out.” You shrugged. 

“So what’s buggin you?” His hand crawling up your thigh. 

You rested your forehead against his running a hand through his curls. He leaned into your touch further. “I’m neglecting my wifely duties. Your hair is getting long.”

His eyebrows raised expectantly. You couldn’t deflect with him. 

“I just don’t like other people up in our business,” you said. He tilted his head, kissing the palm on his cheek. “Especially people we’re not really friends with.”

“Me either.” Joel moved between your legs. Easing his hands on either side of your thighs. 

You rested your chin on top of his head as the two of you enjoyed the summer night noises. It wasn’t silent by any means, but it felt peaceful. 

“Sarah is still up reading. I told her 15 minutes.”

Joel smiled. “Think she’ll remember?” 

“Fuck no,” You said. Joel laughed. “But if Sarah staying up late to read is our biggest issue, I’m not worried.”

“Until she starts stealing filthy books from your shelf.” 

You laughed, head tossing back. Joel kissed your neck. “Get back to work. I came out here to watch my hot carpenter husband do carpenter things.”

Joel smiled, giving you a solid kiss before moving back to his project. You picked up his journal. You’d given him a new one, much like the original, for his birthday after he filled all the pages in the first one. 

“This is quite the bookshelf.”

“She wants fairies on it. Not sure how I’m going to do that yet, but I’ll figure it out.” 

“They don’t cover that in your books?”

“They cover it in yours?” Joel grinned. 

You flipped him off. 

~

You laid out across your bed still in your work clothes. Your abdomen cramped as you waited for the ibuprofen to kick in. Tears streamed into your ears, and for once it wasn’t your period that brought on the tears. 

Work was shit. The company you worked for switched hands last year. Ever since, you hadn’t enjoyed work. The co-workers you were close to slowly quit one by one and your boss was an overbearing, asshole. 

You heard the click of the bedroom door. The bed dipped beside you. His warm, calloused hand covered yours. His lips touched your forehead. You hummed softly. 

“Rough day?”

“Carl’s an ass.”

His finger traced over your face and then he noticed the tears running between your eyes and ears. “Shit, baby.”

“Sorry.” You wiped at your tears, finally opening your eyes.

“Don’t apologize…”

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep working there.” 

“Then don’t.” 

“What?”

“You’re already keepin the books. Tommy and I were talking about hiring a couple more people. Business is good. We’re filling up through the winter. That’s never happened before.”

It was all a part of the five-year plan. Miller Construction, LLC was growing. What used to be just Joel and Tommy had grown to a crew of 5. You’d been doing the books for a couple of years now. The longer-term plan was for you to quit your job and run the admin side of things full-time. You would be able to stay home with the kids so daycare wouldn’t be needed. There were plans for office space, two crews, all a part of the 5-year plan. You quitting your job was still 2 ½ years away. 

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

“You’re thinking about that damn timeline.”

“So? We made that plan for a reason.”

“And we said fuck it, did we not?”

“Joel this isn’t deciding to have a baby a year earlier.” 

“Darlin, you’re miserable.”

“Even if it all worked out, what about health insurance? We’re trying to have a baby. I don’t think we want to get the uninsured medical bill for childbirth.” Health insurance was the main reason you stayed at this job. Your 30 hours a week, enough to qualify for benefits, turned into 40 more often than not. 

“You don’t have to work to get insurance.”

“Joel.”

“Miller Construction can offer you great benefits.” He kissed your neck.

“Oh? Like what?” You smiled. He was distracting you and you let him.

“Flexible schedule, bring your kids to work.” His lips trailed lower. “Private meetings with the boss.” His breath was hot in your ear. 

You hummed soaking in the feeling of the idea until reality crashed back down. “I can’t quit my job so we can have a midday rendezvous.”  

“I want you to quit so you’ll be okay.” He took your hands in his, kissing them. “We need you to be okay, baby.”

You stared up at him, relishing the warmth of his hands. “You’re sure?”

“I’ll call Carl up myself right now. Tell him you’re done. You can sleep in tomorrow.”

You thought about it, making the decision quicker than you wanted to admit. “Fuck the five-year plan I guess.” You laughed, feeling like a weight was lifted off your chest. 

Joel chuckled, pressing his lips to yours.

~

On the first day of November, you woke up feeling nauseous. Your heart lept at the thought that this was it. You managed to wait until the kids were asleep that night, your anticipation growing with the mild heartburn you felt throughout the day. 

No second line. In fact, the test strip was so fucking white you couldn’t imagine a faint line. You threw it in the trash can, fighting the urge to scream. 

You turned on the shower and let the hot water wash it away. 

Joel had just turned out his lamp as you crawled into bed without a word. The sheets felt cool against your skin. He kissed your head before turning on his back.

You faced Joel, laying on your side. He pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“What’s wrong?” You laid a hand on his chest. The only time Joel slept on his back was when he fell asleep on the couch, you insisted on cuddling a certain way, or he was stressed. 

He covered your hand with his. “Nothing babe, just work stuff.” 

“Something that’s gonna affect the books?”

He looked at you with the one eye that faced you. “What happened to no work talk in the bedroom?”

“Well, you’re clearly stressed in our bedroom.” 

Joel rolled over kissing you softly. “Better now.”

“You cheeseball.”

Joel chuckled. He kissed your forehead. “Now it’s your turn.”

You furrowed your brow.

“I can hear your thoughts, Darlin.” 

“You cannot.”

He touched his head to yours, the moonlight reflecting in his big brown eyes. “They’re racing faster than NASCAR.”

You sighed. “I thought I was pregnant. I’m not. Must’ve eaten too much damn Halloween candy last night.”

Joel managed a soft smile. His hand threaded through your hair. “I’d tell you not to overthink it, but we both know that’s not possible.” 

“Do you think there’s something wrong?” You bit your lip. 

“It hasn’t been that long, baby.” You leaned into his touch. 

“I thought it would just happen, you know.” You wanted to swear as the tears started. 

Joel pulled you into his arms. “I think I did too. I mean… I’m kinda 2 for 2 in that department.”

You managed a laugh and he kissed your head. 

“I love you,” He said. 

“I love you too.”

~

The holidays came and went in a blur. Thanksgiving with Tommy and your mom. Your mother had warmed up to Joel over the years. So much so, she’d let him handle the turkey. He’d been so excited. Christmas morning was just the four of you. A new bike for Sarah and a train set for Asher. New Year's Eve at some big fancy house hosted by Joel’s biggest client just the two of you. In the rush of the holidays, the two of you realized it was your first date night in two months. Joel had fucked you in one of the many bathrooms, the idea of baby making the farthest thing from either of your minds for the first time in a long time. 

It was the third week of January before you realized your period was late. You reeled your mind for the last time you’d had it. Did you miss December too? Your heart picked up. You had. 

You glanced in the living room. Sarah was reading and Asher playing with his trains on the floor. You took the steps two at a time quickly locking the door. This had to be it. There was no way it wasn’t.  

You watched the test process, confused when the second line never appeared. The test must have been bad. You grabbed two more from your drawer. The second came up negative as did the third. You just stared at them lined up on the bathroom counter. The acceptance hit you like a semi-truck, the wind knocked from your lungs.

You swiped the tests into the trash can. Angry hot tears streamed from your eyes. Your bedroom door slammed behind you and you fell into the comforter as you let the sobs wrack your body. 

You didn’t know how long you’d been in bed when the door creaked open. You glanced up, eyes heavy expecting to see Sarah or Asher. Joel’s frame filled the door making you realize how long you’d actually been in bed. “Sarah said she heard the door slam a couple hours ago.”

“Shit.” You groaned. There was an ache at the base of your skull. You buried your head into the comforter. 

Joel sat on the bed, his hand on your back. “Everything okay?”

“Peachy.”

“Darlin…”

You sighed, rubbing your head as you rolled to your back. You knew if you opened your eyes, the headache would get worse. “What else, Joel? I thought for sure I was pregnant. New flash, I’m not.”

Silence ensued. You were too preoccupied trying to rub your headache away. The bed beside you lifted. Joel huffed shuffling out of the room. You sat up. Your brain felt like it was going to implode. Your sinuses were stuffy from crying. You couldn’t think straight. 

Joel barged back in, garbage bag in hand. He yanked open the top dresser drawer where you kept the pregnancy and ovulation tests. “What are you doing?”

“Throwing this shit out. We’re done.”

“Done? What are you talking about?” You were worried you might be getting a migraine as you rubbed your temples. 

“This whole cycle tracking and taking tests every month. We need a break.” He shoved the tests into the garbage bag. 

“Joel.”

“It’s tearing you apart!” He turned around. Your vision tunneled to his eyes. Tears pooled in them. “It’s tearing me apart.” 

He dropped the garbage bag and climbed into the bed. His hands felt cool against your hot skin. “We need a break… please.” His voice broke. 

“Okay.” You whispered. 

You climbed into his lap. He kissed your head and you nuzzled into his neck. A few of his tears dropped onto your cheek as yours slid down his neck. He held you like that until you fell asleep.  

~

You didn’t tell Joel you bought the pregnancy test. A part of you felt bad not telling him, but if it was negative, he’d see it in your face. He’d know what was going on without a word. 

You’d only taken one other pregnancy test since you and Joel hit pause on trying last year, and that was at your annual physical. You’d expected the negative result and when the doctor told you, you felt okay. 

You two still talked about having another child. Both of you wanted it, but the active trying was paused. You agreed your family felt incomplete. You discussed going to see a doctor just to make sure everything was okay, but that still felt overwhelming. 

For the most part, you’d been able to unweave the constant baby think from your brain. Life felt like it was flying by at breakneck speed. You celebrated Asher’s 5th birthday in March. Sarah’s spring soccer season was well underway. There was talk that they could make it to states this year, and Sarah had been named captain. Asher started t-ball. Between the two kids’ sports, most of your weekends were full. Business was booming for Miller Construction. So much so that you were in the market for an assistant, and You and Joel celebrated your 2nd wedding anniversary earlier this month. 

Your period was almost 2 weeks late. You tried not to overthink it. It wouldn’t be the first time, but the nausea had hit three days in a row now. The first day you could write it off. The kids had caught a stomach bug last week. The second day you tried to let it go, and then this morning you actually threw up, twice, and then recovered. It brought you back to when you were pregnant with Asher. 

You paced the bathroom wringing your hands as you watched the second hand on your watch tick in two slow circles. You refused to look before it was time. Your mind raced. You flipped between sure and doubt. 

Two minutes. You steadied your breath as you prepared to look. No matter what it said, you would be okay… you hoped. 

The test lay on the bathroom counter. Two lines, clear as day, stared back at you. There was no doubting it. Shock settled in your bones. “Joel…” He was downstairs with the kids. “Joel!” Your voice steadily rose. 

About the third time, his heavy footsteps rang through the house as he took the steps two at a time. He burst into the bathroom. “What’s wrong?” Panic raged wild in his eyes. His chest heaved

You looked up at him, tears brewing in your eyes, hand over your mouth. 

“Darlin, what is it?” He walked over to you. You pointed to the counter. 

He looked over, brow furrowing. Then he saw it. The test sitting there. He didn’t even have to look at the results to know what it said. His head whipped around. “You’re?”

You nodded still suspended in disbelief. He laughed, picking you up and spinning you around in the already tight space. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, laughter mingling with his.  

~

Emma Grace entered the world on December 13th at 12:03 am with much more urgency than her older brother. Joel narrowly avoided catching her as the doctor arrived no more than 30 seconds before she was born. 

Joel settled next to you, his arm around your shoulders. Emma stared up at the two of you. He brushed his finger against her cheek. She felt so small in your arms, and compared to her older brother, she was, weighing in at 2 pounds lighter. 

“She was born after midnight?” 

Joel nodded and the tears welled in your eyes. “She has my dad’s birthday.”

Joel kissed your head and then hers. You leaned into him. Staring down at your baby girl, you felt it in your souls. Your family was complete.

#joel miller #pedro pascal #the last of us #tlou #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #build you the world

[mishydraws]

Very... very unfortunate life update

Hi, everyone.

Ok, I don’t want to waste your time but I wanted to be upfront about what’s going on in my life just so you all know.

Last night I got what is probably one of the worst emails that could have ever appeared in my inbox? Our landlord has given us a 60-day notice to get out. For context, my mom and I have been living here since the year 2000. We have never been late on rent or missed a payment despite every difficulty life has thrown at us in that time and this has completely blindsided us.

We haven’t spoken to any of the neighbors yet but some of the wording on the notice makes me think that they may be kicking out the entire building. Or maybe they’re just targeting those of us in the non-renovated units because we’ve been here so long and they could charge a new tenant much more with a quick kitchen and bathroom upgrade. Renoviction is a new word I just learned. I don’t know. That’s what happened to my brother at his last apartment. They kicked out everyone in his building, renovated, raised the rent, then let new people move in.

They suddenly started increasing our rent every year like clockwork a few years ago so I’ve had a feeling they’ve been trying to price us out for a while but I didn’t know they could just… tell us to leave just because they can. Rent consistently paid up and everything for 24 years.

The notice we received really doesn’t say much so it’s all speculation I guess. It doesn’t state a reason why it just says we need to be gone by March 31st.

But basically, I’m really not doing well right now in all honesty. I slept for maybe an hour last night and it’s like a switch flipped in me as soon as I read the email. My stomach has had this weird knotted feeling ever since and I can’t stand up for more than a few minutes before needing to lie down again in case I either faint or vomit… I’m not sure which but it’s been this way since last night. I had to stand up at the sink to wash one singular dish from dinner and I could barely do it. At least I didn’t see the email until after I ate last night because I still have no appetite now.

However bad I’m feeling I know my mom is probably feeling worse. She has been for a while. She’s getting older and my dad is no longer alive. Aside from my brother and one irl friend I still see in person regularly, we have no family or other support system in this country and are well and truly on our own, staring down the barrel of homelessness if we can’t quickly secure a place and move decades worth of our life there before the end of March.

All of this to say, I don’t know what our usual art shenanigans here are going to look like during this time. I am incredibly stressed to the point where I am physically ill but I also can’t pause and step away because I do need the income that I receive from your support of me/my art here. It’s just the reality. I’ve never been particularly Big And Successful with what I do so your support means all the much more and makes a real impact on my life.

I am so sorry if this dampens your mood at all today or if you notice a decrease in the quality of art I’m able to deliver over the next few months but I will try my best to keep things rolling and let you know if there’s any particular delays to expect.

To top it off, I requested a tour of a nearby apartment last night (more expensive than our current) and the name of the person who just texted me back has the same name as our current landlord. Who wants to start taking bets? I know for a fact they own a lot of property in the area so this isn’t looking promising.

Anyways. Sorry for this downer of a post. If we’re not homeless in 2 months then… I dunno. I’ll have somewhere indoors to do art? Yay? You can imagine the housing market we’re dealing with being in California. The prospect of moving at this point has always been one of my biggest fears but we’ll see if we get lucky real fast 😢

If you've ever thought about supporting my Patreon or anything else, now and over the next few months might be a good time if you can swing it. Maybe it'll help us secure a place to move if I can point to it and be like 'Look! A whole income!' 🥲 Idk man.

There's an art update in the (public) post I made if you want to see what we're at least trying to work on for sticker club through all of this.

Mishy

#mishy talks

[sunonyoreface]

Routine Examinations Pt7 - Jimmy Keene - Black Bird Imagine

Hi there, this story is loosely based off the Black Bird series starring Taron Egerton as James Keene. Although the series is based off real events, this story is not and deviates from the show’s plot.

Summary: You’re a doctor working with the FBI, your new patient: Jimmy Keene.  

Word count: 2000

Pairing: Reader x Jimmy Keene

TW: angst, prison environment, mention of insulin injection.

Jimmy doesn’t hide his surprise when I show up outside his cell. His tired expression is replaced with one of recognition and worry. My patients weren’t alerted about the morning routine change. It’s only for a couple of days. Just until enough people are discharged upstairs and my office is my own again.

“Dr. Green,” concern laces his tone as he stands up from his bed to greet me. He approaches the bars, looking me up and down, searching for evidence to support his wariness. 

“Morning Keene, how are you this morning?” I smile at him through the doors. I’m careful not to be too overtly friendly. Jimmy is not the only one watching. As I’ve made my rounds, the male attention has only grown. At least a dozen depraved eyes are on me as we speak, peering from all angles of the floor. 

Nelson steps around me to unlock his cell door. Jimmy’s eyes flicker to the officer only briefly before landing back on mine. His brows are furrowed, clearly questioning my unannounced visit. He isn’t the only one who reacted this way. several others were upset I’d altered their routine, but thankfully none put up a fight. Once it slides open, Nelson takes a stand near my medical cart, ensuring nothing will get stolen. He stands with his back to us as I requested at the start of our route so it didn’t look suspicious if I were to ask at Jimmy’s cell. 

“Is something wrong?” He asks. 

“Not at the moment. I’m doing medication on the ground today to avoid extra traffic in the infirmary,” I step up to the entrance of his cell. The door is unlocked but his broad frame guards the opening. He’s hesitant to let me in.

“May I come in?” I step up to the entrance. Intense eyes stare down at me as I wait for him to decide. I don’t think he wants his injection out in the open. 

Jimmy takes a small step back, just far enough to allow me in, but not far enough back so that I have space to move past him. We’re standing almost chest to chest. 

It feels strange being in an inmate's cell, especially Jimmy’s. It’s a small glimpse into who they are. What few possessions they have are often incredibly important to them. Yet Jimmy hasn’t been here long enough to add to his cell. I’m not sure he would anyway. He doesn’t come off as that type of person. But maybe I don’t know him that well. 

Nevertheless, you’re stepping into what little space they can call their own. It’s not a home but it’s as close as many of them get for years. It's where they sleep, where they dream, where they think about friends and loved ones on the outside, where they reflect on their past actions, where they determine if it was all worth it. It’s the closest thing they have to a safe space. So just the act of being in his cell, in his space, feels oddly intimate. 

Part of me feels like an intruder after that first step. As though I need to tread lightly because no one should know I’m here. But that’s not really the case, is it?

I fidget with the packaged vile. Jimmy’s name is nearly labelled on it. They’re all meticulously labelled. Every vial for every patient. So, even if I’m not the one doing his shot, Jimmy will receive the crystalloid solution instead of insulin. The wrong vial could kill him. 

He watches me intently. I briefly saw him yesterday for less than five minutes at the crack of dawn, but we couldn’t talk. My office was and still is being shared by two doctors with only a curtain as a divider. Nothing we’d say would be confidential. Today is the first real day since the riot that we’ll be able to talk. Even if it’s for a limited amount of time. 

“How are you?” Jimmy whispers as he towers over me. Looking up into his eyes is mesmerizing. Yet the nagging in my head reminds me of those watching. I grab his arm to pull him deeper into his cell. Here we’re sheltered from everyone but Nelson, who isn’t looking anyway. 

“Tired,” I respond. “Overwhelmed. I haven’t really had time to think about it,” I anxiously rub a hand along the back of my neck. I don’t know how much I can tell him anymore. After Hall’s trip to the infirmary yesterday, part of me wonders what Jimmy all shares with him.  Or if it’s possible he shares details about me in exchange for details about Hall’s life. The logical part of my brain says that would never happen, that Jimmy wouldn’t do that. Yet, I’d be stupid if I didn’t at least consider those possibilities. Because after all, Jimmy is a desperate man. And desperate men are dangerous men. “You?” I ask. 

“Tired. I’m always tired,” Jimmy lowers his voice. “I can’t stop thinking about you” he raises a hand to brush over my bandaged collarbone. Underneath my clothes, the scar is red and still several days away from being fully healed. Part of me wants to disappear into his arms, to be held and comforted again, but I know we can’t. I long to melt into him. I can tell he wants to touch me more because his hands linger above my shirt, but I know he won’t. “These last few nights, all I could think about was if you were okay,”

“I’ll be fine,” I whisper. “Can you take a seat on the bed please?”

Jimmy obeys my request, taking a seat on the neatly folded mattress. He sits with his legs spread and I take the opportunity to stand between his thighs. Our legs brush and I can feel the warmth from his skin pass through our clothes and embrace my outer thighs. 

“Did they catch those fuckers?” Jimmy’s voice is raspy and I can hear the underlying anger in his tone. 

“Sort of,” I hesitate before continuing. “Ralf was charged for stealing the supplies and put into solitary, but Moe wasn’t caught,”

“But you know who they are? Why didn’t you identify them?” I didn’t want to talk about this today but now it’s too late to stop. 

“Because if this goes to court, it doesn’t just draw attention to them, you’ll be brought into it too,” realization dawns on Jimmy’s face. “What you did was technically assault, even if it was to protect me. I don’t know if you’d be charged, but you would definitely be mentioned in the hearing. What happened would be talked about by other convicts, if it hasn’t already. I’m fine. I’ll be fine. But I need you to focus on Hall, okay?” As the words leave my mouth, he breaks eye contact. I don’t think it’s guilt he feels. It’s something else. Something harder to describe. His brows furrow and his eyes search his cell for a nonexistent answer. Jimmy’s hand starts to reach for mine but then he stops and pulls back. My heart clenches. 

“I’m not sorry for what I did,” he says seriously. 

“I’d hope not,” I joke. He looks up at my change of tone to see me smiling down at him. “Now, lift your shirt.”

I’m starting to think Jimmy will never get used to needles. His entire body remains stiff throughout the thirty seconds it takes for me to finish. His breathing is shallow and he refuses to look at my hands. It’s almost cute. 

“Done,” I cap the syringe. “Jimmy, there’s something we have to talk about before I leave,” he looks up. I have his full attention. “Hall came to visit me yesterday,” I watch his reaction carefully. 

“Hall did? Why?” His brows furrowed in confusion and he shifts away from me slightly. 

“He faked an injury because he wanted to see who’s been treating you every morning,” a flash of anger crosses Jimmy’s face but doesn’t stay. He remains quiet, allowing me to continue. “He said you mentioned that I was nice and pretty and he had to see for himself,” I finish with a sigh. 

“I didn’t say those things to him,” Jimmy’s whispering now. Maybe he fears Hall will hear us from his nearby cell. “Well not like you implied. He was asking me what you were like because he hasn’t gone to the doctor since coming here. So I said you were nice, but that’s it.” 

“Has he said anything else about our appointments? Anything at all?” I lower my voice to match his. Jimmy looks to the corner of his cell and I know immediately there’s more. 

“Every once in a while he’ll ask, never in much detail. But he’s asked about what it’s like having diabetes. How often you do my shots. That kind of thing. Once or twice he’s tried to talk about you in more detail but I don’t say much,” he forces a swallow. 

“What did he say?” My tone is more serious than ever, I need to know if Hall’s curiosity is just that or if it’s more.

“He wanted to know if you had kids, you know, stuff like that. If you were married, to which I said I didn’t know and he told me to check for a ring next time,” he pauses to consider his words before continuing. “The day before the riot he started getting more personal. He asked what you smelled like. What shoes you wore. What colour your bra straps are because apparently women send secret messages to men based on the colour of their bra,” Jimmy finally finishes. “But I went into the least amount of detail without it being suspicious. It’d be weird if I outright refused to talk about you with him.”

My stomach drops at the amount of information he just mentioned. Weeks worth of information. Stuff that should’ve been written down and recorded. I can’t believe he didn’t mention this before. 

Despite this, Jimmy’s right. It’d be weird if he refused to talk about me to Hall. Not only that, it would be suspicious. But the fact that Hall has taken a special interest in me, not out of suspicion, but for a more sinister reason, is almost as concerning. 

I sigh. “Okay. Jimmy, in the future you have to tell me this information. Even if you think it’s going to creep me out or that you’re protecting me by not saying anything, I have to know. Okay? Have to.” 

He grabs my empty hand and gently squeezes. “I will. I shouldn’t have kept that from you,”

Any tension I had towards him slips away as the warmth of his hand wraps around my own. His calloused hands are large and gentle. I break eye contact with him to stare at the embrace. I brush my thumb along the top of his fingers as they apply a reassuring pressure to my hand. 

As I stand between Jimmy’s legs, I subconsciously lean forward. He shifts, allowing us to be closer than before. Part of me wishes we were still locked in my office together where there were no prying eyes. I want to relish in the feeling of his arms around me. To linger so close his breath becomes my own.

I allow myself one last moment to memorize the feel of his strong hand.

“We have a lot to talk about once my office is back together,” I murmur.

“Okay,” he whispers. 

I squeeze his hand one last time before pulling away without a look back. My shoes echo along the cement floor as I step out of the cell. Nelson hears my footsteps and takes his cue. Jimmy’s door slides shut and closes with a loud clank. 

As I gather my cart I feel a set of eyes on me. I look back at Jimmy’s cell to find him watching with care. We share a small, risky smile before I quickly look away. However, as I turn away, I notice another set of eyes intently watching our exchange. 

My body stiffens as I lock eyes with Hall. He leans against his cell door, diagonal to Jimmy, twirling his beard between his fingers. My breath catches in my throat as I’m caught off guard. I quickly cover my tracks with a polite smile as I head for the exit. My pace is faster than before and Nelson struggles to keep up. 

Keene and Hall aren’t the only ones watching me leave.

#taron egerton #jimmy keene #Jimmy Keen x reader #Jimmy Keene imagine #Jim Keene x reader #jim keene #james keene #James Keen x reader #James Keene imagine #black bird #black bird imagine #Black Bird Apple TV #black bird show

[vintageandroid]

I wrote this as a comment somewhere, and I wanted to share it here. The discussion was about door-holding etiquette and "chivalry" and stuff, and it reminded me of college...

So, from 2006-2010 I went to an extremely conservative Christian university (if you know me now, feel free to laugh for a while) and I…didn’t fit in especially well even before I left that religion, being a budding feminist, gay ally (…and closeted gay person but never mind), and so on. Even once I realized it wasn’t the place for me, I’d invested a lot of non-transferable credits and wound up sticking it out.

So, because of the super Christian environment, the expectation that everyone was looking for a future spouse, and several other super weird factors, there was a definite culture of Men Always Open Doors For Women. 20-year-old guys would very nearly shove a woman out of the way rather than allow her to so much as touch a doorknob with her delicate feminine hands. I was perceived as a woman at the time, and so if there were men around, doors would be opened upon my approach, and for the most part I just rolled with it because they were usually there first anyway.

One time, probably junior year when I was well and thoroughly sick of everything, I reached the door first, and opened it, because it turns out that people assigned female at birth can actually grasp a door handle and pull open a door without suffering spontaneous uterine prolapse. And since it was a cold day and there were a few people behind me, I held the door.

However, these people behind me…were men. And they couldn’t just let a woman hold the door for them! It’s one thing if they sort of failed and this woman-shaped individual went through by herself, but they couldn’t go through a door that was being actively held open by a fragile female limb, could they? Their marriage prospects would be in shambles! Jesus would seek them out specifically to give them disapproving looks! They’d be emasculated! They might as well start voting Democrat at that point! But they also couldn’t reach past me and grab the door, because then their arm might brush against mine through our coats and in early 2000s purity culture, that’s basically third base and you can’t do that unless you’re married, or at least have gone to Bible Study together.

So…we stand there. I hold the door. They stare at me. Minnesotan winter breathes through the foyer to the academic building we’re all trying to enter. My roommate, who has already gone through the door without mishap and is waiting for me, is trying very hard not to laugh. This is an actual stand-off.

“Go ahead,” I say, in case they just don’t realize, somehow, that the door is open and they may walk through it at any point.

They just stand there. Time ticks by. Empires rise and fall. I’m freezing. The door is actually getting heavy by now, which is probably less because of my helpless “feminine” anatomy and more because I’m a 20-year-old LiveJournal-obsessed nerd who doesn’t exercise, and also because this building is from the 1920s and the doors are solid as hell and I’ve been holding it anywhere between five seconds and seven years.

Finally, I cave. Sort of. “Fine,” I say, and walk through the door. And I let the heavy door fall closed behind me, in their faces.

The world lets out the breath it’s been holding. I catch up to my roommate, and we continue with our day.

#my posts #storytime #ollie stories

[cinebration]

Come Back To Me (Jack Russell x Reader) [Part 7]

You have dinner with Jack.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Epilogue

Tagged: @lucy-sky​, @faeoftheapocalypse​, @theconsultingdoctor10​, @starfirette​, @bitchyglitterfox​, @thefandomqueenuno​, @scarlettsoldier​, @russell-ed​, @xasement​, @stand-with-cap​, @marvelenthusiast10​, @supermarvelgirl15​, @mobiusismyfav​, @killeromanoff​, @hawkins-2000​, @fangurldayandnight​, @liv-victoriano​, @randomchick546​, @g1m2g3, @gingermous​, @howlingco​, @vynsvision​, @jwjeepers, @rellasnowheenim​, @yelenas-lova​, @nyrovia​, @littlenosoul​, @allthingsvicf, @emiemiemiii, @lilyevans1, @n3rdybirdee, @kl0k​​​​​

Warnings: none

Gif Source: pedropcl

You wavered in front of Jack’s door, apprehension tying knots in your guts. You hadn’t been still the whole day, your anxiety mounting with each passing hour. You had never been on any dates, didn’t know how you were supposed to behave or what the norms were. The idea of making a fool of yourself made your neck burn unpleasantly.

Get it together!

Squaring your shoulders and ignoring the accompanying twinge, you exhaled slowly, centering yourself. You could do this, would do this. Jack was cute, and more importantly, he was kind, considerate. He had saved you! No one had ever done that before.

Stomach fluttering again, you knocked hastily, depriving yourself of the opportunity to flee. Footsteps approached the door.

Smoothing the T-shirt dress you had bought for the occasion—it embarrassed you to admit that you had purchased it exclusively for this date, for Jack—you tried not to fidget as the door opened. Jack greeted you with a wide grin and bright eyes that swept over you, his grin faltering into awe.

“You look amazing!”

You barely choked out a sheepish “Thanks,” overwhelmed by his sincerity.

“Come in, come in!” Herding you inside like before, he shut the door and murmured, “Wow!”

Fighting the urge to run from the compliments, you focused on the smells wafting from the kitchen. Despite the persistent flutters, your stomach growled in anticipation, your mouth salivating in response.

“It smells amazing in here!”

Jack beamed, flashing that toothy smile. “I hope you like it. It’s mostly family recipes.”

“I’m jealous.”

Chuckling, he shook his head but didn’t take your coat. Instead, he hopped back into the kitchen and reemerged a second later with his hands filled with special carry cases heaped with dishes. Reading the confused glance on your face, he explained, “We’re not eating here. Follow me.”

Eyebrows arching, you trailed after him. Kicking the door shut behind you, he strode four feet to the stairwell and held the door open with his shoulder. As you squeezed past him, you brushed up against his chest.

The back of your neck burned.

Suppressing a nervous chuckle, you stepped onto the stair landing. Jack ascended the final flight of stairs stretching above you and shouldered open the door leading to the roof.

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach.

The chill autumn air prickled your skin as you strode out beneath the night sky. Shredded clouds scuttled across the moon, only the brightest of stars visible through the layer of light pollution. The moon, steadily waxing, hung stubbornly in the sky.

A fire crackled off to your left, embers flinging out as wood popped in the fire-pit table. Beside it stood a dining table draped in a beige tablecloth and loaded with plates and silverware. A folding outdoor screen divider stood positioned around the table to minimize the crosscutting wind.

“Do you like it?” Jack asked, his voice cautious but hopeful.

You turned toward him, feeling wooden, frozen by the thoughtfulness and how unreal the setting felt. “It’s absolutely beautiful.”

His soft smile made your chest constrict. Herding you forward, he pulled out your chair for you to sit on before setting down the containers of food and unloading them onto the table.

“This is pollo pozole,” he declared, opening a ceramic container. “It’s like a stew.”

The smells wafting from the container made your mouth water again. With deft hands, Jack ladled a bowlful for you, then for himself, before setting aside the container and retrieving an assortment of toppings and side dishes: shredded cabbage, radishes, chopped onions, avocado, lime, oregano, salsa, sour cream, and a plate of tostadas.

“You’re spoiling me,” you laughed, loading up the pozole with all the toppings. On a smaller plate, you stacked a few tostadas and heaped more toppings on them.

“What do you mean?”

“I never get home-cooked food, really. I’m more an order-in or microwave kind of cooker.”

“Que pena. Did your family not cook a lot?”

You shrugged. “It wasn’t that big an issue. And my job doesn’t really let me cook. I’m away from home a lot.”

“Does that bother you?”

You met his curious gaze. “You ask a lot of interesting questions.”

“I like to know the interesting things about people. We all have something, no?”

“You already know my interesting things.”

Spooning up some pozole, Jack shrugged. “I know one interesting thing.”

“Yeah, I’m sure hunting is a big draw.”

“No, I mean that you don’t like it, yet you still do it.” For a moment, you were worried he would press the issue. Instead, he shook his head and said, “I’d like to know more interesting things.”

“I’m really boring, actually.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“It’s true!”

“No, I refuse to believe it. You may think you’re boring, but other people probably don’t. I don’t think you’re boring.”

You pursed your lips, eyes sparkling. “You met me under unusual circumstances. Nothing that exciting happens to me.”

“Exciting? You thought that was exciting?”

“Did you expect me to say traumatic?”

“No, but it makes sense that it would be.” He chuffed an incredulous laugh. “Exciting.”

“Hey, it’s not every day I get impaled and survive.”

“Well, now I know you haven’t been impaled before. That’s interesting.”

You laughed with disbelief, unable to understand how this man was so genuine and sincere, open and palpably caring. He met your gaze with a smile, eyes alight with something akin to joy. The expression made you want to run for the hills and yet kept you rooted to the spot.

No one had ever looked at you with joy before.

~~

Dinner took almost two hours, you both taking your time to eat both the main course and the dessert as you got to know each other. Jack told you a little about his family but spent more time talking about the friends and found family he had cultivated for himself over the years. The way he spoke about those he cared about imbued you with a warmth that was addicting. You shared things begrudgingly, but only because you were reluctant to stop him from talking. His voice was warm and soft, lulling in a comfortable way such that you could listen for hours on end.

The heat of the fire played over your skin in pleasing waves, the alternating warmth and night chill surprisingly not unpleasant. As the night drew on, the moon rose higher, spilling soft light over you both.

“This dinner has been…” You searched for an appropriate word without being a cliché. You failed. “Amazing.”

“I agree. You’re wonderful company.”

You snorted.

“I’m serious,” he said emphatically, leaning forward. “I enjoy your company.”

“Um…thanks.”

“You don’t like compliments.”

“It’s not that I don’t like them…I just don’t know what to do with them.”

“Ah, I can understand that.”

“But…thank you. I do mean that. For everything.”

He smiled half-heartedly. “You sound like you’re saying good-bye.”

“No, nothing like that. Or…or maybe.” You pulled your cloth napkin off the table and into your lap, twisted it between your hands. “In our line of work, we never know when good-bye is, you know, permanent.”

Jack stood, moved his chair around to the side of the table, reseated himself. Before you could react, he reached out and grabbed both your hands in his, stilling your anxious movements. Fingers lacing through yours, he met and held your gaze.

You could have sworn it felt like he was lending you strength.

“If you’re worried about the werewolf, you’ll be safe,” he said. “I promise.”

You frowned. “How can you promise that?”

“I just know you’ll be safe. I feel it in my bones.”

You couldn’t argue with the conviction in his voice. Nodding, you glanced away. “If not that one, then another one.”

Jack released one of your hands, brushed his fingers along your jaw. Shivering, you glanced back at him. His thumb swept over your cheek as his fingers hooked behind your head, gentle.

Leaning forward, he hesitated a fraction of a second, his eyes searching yours, before kissing you. The press of his lips sent thrills through you, your skin alight with pleasurable fire as you gently kissed him back. His scent and taste filled you, senses buzzing with everything Jack.

He pulled back first, the loss immediate and deep. You kept your eyes shut, afraid to see what he looked like.

His thumb rubbed circles on your cheek. You forced yourself to look at him.

Pupils blown wide, he smiled softly, sheepishly. You found yourself matching it, fighting embarrassment even as the urge to kiss him again overwhelmed you.

Pressing his forehead against yours, he murmured, “I’m glad you came back to me.”

His words fluttered in your stomach.  | Part 9

#Jack Russell x Reader #Jack Russell #Jack Russell imagine #Gael Garcia Bernal x Reader #Gael Garcia Bernal #Gael Garcia Bernal imagine #Gael Garcia-Bernal x Reader #Gael Garcia-Bernal #Gael Garcia-Bernal imagine #Werewolf By Night #Marvel #MCU

[starsailor-kinthepast]

i am (not) human

Author: Uru F. Starsailor Length: 770 words Topic: Neanderthals and otherkin

Reddit user u/Susitar states in a comment from 2019: “The question is, how would you notice that you are, say, a Neanderthal spiritually/psychologically? The behaviour of extinct species are always hard to get reliable information about, and any extinct hominid would likely be very similar to modern-day humans in most regards.” In the same thread of comments, Susitar adds: “I often wonder how people are able to "feel" the difference between say, humans and elves too, assuming no past life memories.”

---------------

In 1856, human remains were found in the Neander Valley, Germany. They were identified as a different species than the modern human; the name of this species, homo neanderthalensis (or homo sapiens neanderthalensis), was proposed in 1863. For about a century, up until the mid 1900’s, Neanderthals were portrayed as beast-like and primitive without much humanity. It’s only in recent years, particularly after 2000, that Neanderthal reconstructions are humanlike and humanized.

We’re not sure of the exact years Neanderthals lived, but it could have been as much as 800 000 years ago, or as little as 300 000. About 30-40 000 years ago, they went extinct. They lived in small groups of 10-30 individuals which moved between settlements, often caves but also open-air, as the seasons shifted.

You see humans arguing that Neanderthals also were human; I’m not here to dispute that, but I do want to raise the theory that the reason this is so commonly argued is that humans don’t want to be alone. Many see humanity as the pinnacle of intelligence, of kindness, of rationality and morality; one of the things stated in the 1800’s that served to separate Neanderthals from Sapiens was that they were “incapable of moral and theistic conceptions”.

Going by this way of thinking, this way of assuming humanity, Neanderthals were human. They buried their dead, they cared for their sick, they made art and music and jewelry – they hunted, they crafted tools, they cooked and prepared their food. They had medicine and language, they taught their young, they bred with other hominids.

Now, I understand this isn’t arguing the case of a Neanderthal identity being otherkin, other-than-human-kind. But there are countless other ‘kin that fit the above bill of humanity: elves, gnolls, dwarrow, fae, vampires, werewolves, etc. The difference, I suppose, is that we have tangible proof Neanderthals once walked this very Earth.

Of course, there are differences between humans and the species listed above – some minor, some great. But there are differences between humans and Neanderthals, too. Neanderthals were shorter, bulkier, stockier. They were stronger, with shorter arms and legs, thicker builds and large barrel-chests. Their lungs were larger, as were their noses and their eyes. They needed more calories on the daily.

Sadly, we don’t know much at all about how Neanderthals functioned socially beyond the earlier statements. We can’t say much about what their instincts were, how they behaved, so I won’t say here whether or not they differed socially from the Sapiens at the time.

So, yes. Neanderthals were humans, in the way that all creatures with intelligence and benevolence are humans: in the way that they are people.

This is where I will propose the idea of otherkin, the experience of being otherkin, is not simply being an other-than-human-kind. It’s the experience of being other-than-modern-human-kind. It’s about seeing yourself in something removed from the world we live in, the lives we’re supposed to lead. At its core, the experience of being otherkin is about experiencing a disconnect between yourself and the world/your body. The ‘true self’, or at the very least a different version of the self, is different from the body you inhabit. If the self you imagine yourself as, the self you should be, the self you are, is different from the form you currently inhabit: that’s otherkin.

Neanderthals were human. The experience of being a Neanderthal is not.

I long for a different time. I long for a different body. I long for a society so far removed from this it might as well be alien. I don’t belong among modern humans; my home is in caves and on steppes, between trees and valleys, in crevices and tents and in the arms of another.

When I see myself as a Neanderthal, it makes me feel better. It’s not reincarnation.* It’s just who I am.

I’m a Neanderthal. I’m otherkin. I’m alterhuman; I’m otherhuman.

I am (not) human.

---------------

*This is not to say that reincarnated Neanderthals are not welcome under the otherkin umbrella: the experience of having lived a previous life as a Neanderthal is just as removed from modern day humans as my psychological experience.

#otherhuman #alterhuman #otherkin #neanderthal kin #otherkin writing #star speaks #star writes

[catgirlforeskin]

gonna be real I actually don’t enjoy when media is flippantly like “yeah everyone in this is bi/pan or whatever 😊” since in the case of shows, like with wwdits, it just means “we make some gay jokes with the men in this that aren’t all that different from gay jokes sitcoms 20 years ago had, and all the women only ever express heterosexuality even if in interviews we say they’re like, so gay”

and in the case of games it’s just “you play as some loser dude and every character is written to want to fuck you for some reason, or you can play as the secondary afterthought female protagonist and do (some) of the romances we wrote for the men and if we’re feeling generous we’ll change a few words”

or in some ensemble cast/party management games they’ll just make every character “bi” by just having no parameters for relationships and one set of generic actions/dialogue and try to present lazy development as progressivism

Like nothing is substantively different from the days when we would dreg through shows/movies for any time women talked about something besides men, or having to mod a game to hell and back to allow gay romances

the only difference now is that writers/developers/whoever expect a big pat on the back for doing next to nothing. If “progressive” media is still gonna be lesbophobic and misogynist then let’s just go back to early 2000s homophobia who gives a shit anymore

[dailycass-cain]

How do you take a minority character in Cassandra Cain, who had an ongoing series that lasted over seventy issues, was part of the core cast at the time, downgrade them from an "A-list" (to me she was) hero to D level, and her importance gone? DC Comics found a way. Tonight let's talk about it.

(2022 me: I wrote these series of tweets back in 2020. Originally, I posted my original essay of this in five parts waaaay back in 2015. Here’s part 1). 

Like many things, it wasn't just a singular major cut but several ones, and lots of smaller ones that ousted the character from said position, and probably ran the fandom for the character to other places.

The first big cut is THE story of Batman in the early 2000s, Hush. Many people's "go to" or favorite story for Batman universe. Why? because it features almost every single Bat-Family and major rogues at the time appeared in it. Save for Bane and-- Batgirl.

For Bane it's quite understandable, he was in a story at Gotham Knights at the time. So his story was "being played" out elsewhere. Cass however, the story is notorious for excluding her. I believe even to this day because of the lack of appearance is a key reason why we're here.

Everything "birthed" from Hush has ruled the Batman comics roost for years since it's publication. You might say even to this day, Batman comics cannot escape the shadow of the story or some of the bad characterization within it (2022 note: Oh how right I was back in 2020 when I wrote all of this. We’ve gotten yet another addition of this story, a new omnibus, published this year with a new five page story from the same creative team). 

Key among them is this mythical level that the story puts Babs' time as Batgirl. It along with the Tommy and Jason portions are given Bruce's justification for wanting to kill the Joker in it.

There is this thing. This myth that Barbara was the greatest Batgirl ever because simply, she was the one who was in  live-action. The one in Batman: The Animated Series. That she should still be Batgirl was played out by writers during this period.

As I said earlier today she was given this chance. Where as Cassandra never really has ever been given a chance save for cameos and some really bad video games. But even then, Tim was in those too? Yet how did he get a pass but Cass did not?

There also lies a rather confession from now former publisher at DC for his distain for legacy characters. How they "age" characters up. I believe this also pertains why Barbara is always Batgirl as well. Since it ages her and Bruce up.

.The irony is, we always get the Robins (save poor Stephanie) in media too. So it's rather-- hypocritical and kind of sexist really that all the boys get their time in the spotlight but the gals do not? Why is that? This myth for Babs as Batgirl and viewpoint on legacies already puts a great hinder on Cassandra as a character.  You already have factors going against the character. But wait there's more.

There-in lies the second big cut. A great famous comic writer once told me on a forum, if he didn't like a character he'd just ignore them. Better ignore than write them badly. This sort of thing does make sense but-- in Cassandra's case for one writer it was taken to an extreme.

After War Games event in 2004 does anyone want to play a guess how many times Cassandra appeared in the mainline Batman comics to the end of her ongoing in 2009?

The answer isn't much, just a handful. Not to mention the love affair over returning Jason as well was all over the place. Jason this and Jason that. A fact that this was so metaly pointed out in Batgirl Vol. 2 #1.

There-in lies a revelation tonight I had. I always wondered why the writer of Batgirl Vol. 2 wrote Nightwing so awful in it. Then it hit me across the face tonight: the book's writer at the time. The thing from 2006 to even now there's been an editor/writer who kind of obviously doesn't like the character of Cassandra. In fact his own contribution to this happened in Nightwing as Batgirl Vol. 2 was ending. The whole "family" subplot throughout his entire Batman run.

There in lies the second major cut, the ending of Cassandra's ongoing. Why was it canceled? Not due to sales. Other comics that survived/relaunched into OYL were selling worse than Batgirl. No it was canceled to make room for a Batwoman ongoing.

A Batwoman ongoing (by Devin Grayson) that would never see the light of day. The inker of #73 confirmed this because I guess one female Bat comic was one too many for that day and age. Oh, the sexism was high at DC.

Of course, the third major cut came not too long after. Turning Cassandra into a "dragon lady" villain.

So you take everything fans loved and adored the character. And take it into the trash to give us the worst stereotypical character ever. Worse, is the aftermath following in Robin #152.

Why is it worse? Because it downplays Cassandra's importance in the family to now being a "sad troubled" girl. .....

Fans didn't take well to this all at all during the time period. Cue this article from Wizard #182 (which came out October 2006) when fans were ticked and higher ups threw the Robin writer under the bus at conventions.

And that would come in Titans East over in Teen Titans in early 2007 where we get this crazy retcon to explain it all.

With some extra padding in some oneshots of 52 to show, "Hey Cass did good things in the missing year. Things we'll never see." Aka devaluing her story unlike say Tim who we got to see the complete tale of him at the time.

Back to Titans East, throughout the story neither Tim/Dick help Cass in her problems they instead hinder her more after learning the truth. Thankfully for Tim that characterization would later be course corrected. Dick-- not so much.

So DC said they had "plans" for Cassandra. After East we were teased things in Black Canary mini in the summer of 2007 that Cass had feld from her sect of the League of Assasins.

And as I let you all know here. Well, we all know where Cassandra ended up, as a supporting character in Batman & the Outsiders.

But this in line also ties into DC Nation blurbs where we were teased in Batman & the Outsiders #3 we would be getting a new mini for Cass.

So interesting to note during this period as you know Chuck Dixon was writing Batman & the Outsiders. He really laid out his plans for both this and Robin on podcasts (and one issue of Robin slipped into solicitations). 

When I personally attended the Wizardworld Chicago 2009, Dan DiDio said at the DC panel when the subject of why  eventual writer for Batgirl Vol. 2, Adam Beechen was person writing this comic. DiDio answered by saying Beechen was the only creative at DC giving him pitches on Cass. 

Turns out, DiDio lied as prior to that year in December 2008, Dixon went on the Word Balloon podcast and talked about a “filler” issue of Detective Comics that could include Cassandra Cain.

Of course, as we got said mini with one hand, on the other hand several Bat Family comics were winding down. Those included Robin, Nightwing, and Birds of Prey. And as #6 was closing things out so this was being teased in the final issue of Nightwing.

That is so not Cass, but Barbara as Batgirl kissing Dick in his current Nightwing costume. The heck? Well, at it turns out (as we later learn). Higher ups already were planning Cassandra's ousting from Batgirl even though they gave us a mini. So DC giveth and DC taketh away.

However, prelim hype around the book teased Cass would be Batgirl going in. Note the bulletin board on who was listed as Batgirl (courtesy of IGN, but here’s the Multiversity article on it). 

Of course, DC didn’t know WHO was going to Batgirl even at the time this article was posted as they were debating all over the place at this point. Much so in fact it made it to another DC Nation (after Stephanie was chosen):

"2010 will have big plans for our favorite non-lethal assassin".

Yes, we did get Cass in 2010 but just in Red Robin #17. Such a "big plan" that was. A single appearance.  Well, okay we did get the retcon on why Cass wasn't Batgirl any longer too. But there wasn't much at all.

So you have DC downplaying the character. And then you get Black Bat.

But as I said before a few days ago, any importance of Cassandra that was coming from the new Batman writer was short-lived as the New 52 rolled out fully on Babs back as Batgirl.  Many got their wish (higher ups included) Babs was back as Batgirl.  The "myth" was a reality again.

At the very least, Stephanie got one final adventure as Batgirl even if, plans were in place to make her Spoiler just in case her as Batgirl wasn't allowed.

What followed was an agonizing three years of DC downplaying the two characters completely. Why you ask? The easiest answer: jealousy and sexism. Look at how loyal we fans of the two characters are.  What if that love was directed at them instead of Babs.

I guess you could say now "two" female Bats were okay, but FOUR?! FOUR iS SIMPLY OUTRAGOUS!!!!

Course the controversy would be a embargo of the two characters by DC. Embargo that hit Stephanie more with the online Smallville comic and Lil Gotham.

I'm also reminded the mindset of DC higher ups at the time period post Battle for the Cowl as we recently learned from the SDCC: Batgirls panel (2020): Higher Ups: "Cassandra leaves." Writer: "WHY?!" Higher Ups: "Cause she just does-- so your book can exist."

Suddenly this begins to explain Lady Shiva and the lack of Cassandra Cain in Batman: Hush now.

That's the cruel mindset DC higher ups had with Cassandra and eventually Stephanie. So when you say, not to give either character a chance. This is what people you're defending.

So you add ALL OF THAT, four years is quite a long time. A long time for fans to move on or just forget DC Comics. But we Cass/Steph fans persisted. Better we did get them in 2014 even if it was an alternate reality (and Gail's final issue).

BUT... Cass in the main universe?  Yeah, Stephanie can be slotted in because she has the Spoiler identity to fall onto. But Cass? She was Batgirl. So what do you do when you have a Batgirl, but can't use Cass?

Simply you just create a new identity, Orphan. But by not making her Batgirl you take away three key things away from the character. #1 Who she's truly loyal toward.

#2 Who mentors her.

#3 Where she is in the Family order. By including Babs as the new "daughter" figure in Bruce's life. You take away Cassandra's. Why do you think a certain DC Direct statue with the family earns my ire anytime I see it? For that.

Babs is no daughter figure to Bruce, she's an equal. That's a downgrade to her role in the family. But it is rather curious two ongoings with Barbara and not a single appearance of Cass in them (so far). Makes you wonder?

So you take away Cassandra's importance in the family, you downgrade her identity, don't give her a bat symbol, take away her mentors. What does that leave you?

You wonder why. Why do I'd stick around? I mean honestly, there are probably really vocal Cass fans out there in this world still. One of whom did a retrospective multipart video earlier this year of Cass (and he comes to the EXACT same conclusions).

Because as I said quite recently, "What is the greatest lesson for Cass fans in Batman media given all the mess DC and Warner Bros. does in treating this character?

It took almost TEN YEARS to finally see Cass in her OG Batgirl suit earlier this year. Almost TEN YEARS to see a solo story which-- dammit was like the greatest gift to us. Like seriously to all those involved going thru all of this.

I really hope the creative team realizes just how special that graphic novel is to the fans. Like literally, it showed all the greatest things we love about the character. The fighting is just the added bonus. I bow and try not to cry at being so grateful to this creative team.

But this is the road we fans and the character of Cassandra Cain have to endure. So if you're wondering why we're ticked at the Gotham Knights video game (2022) not including her outright? This is our reason.

This is why I am still grateful for BoP movie. It may not have been the role I wanted to see of Cass as the damsel in distress, but goddammit we got so much Cass comic content this year because of it.  JUST FOR THAT ALONE-- I'm grateful.

That's why if any person in media can hear me. Just give Cass a chance. A short. A main role in the video game. Heck, an episode.  JUST GIVE CASSANDRA A CHANCE PLEASE! You might be surprised at what you get.

Just know that Cassandra will NEVER be a placeholder. She is Batgirl, and dammit she deserves that role and that role so BADLY.  I know Stephanie is too.

Gods I love Stephanie too. But I just always hate that DC did that to both characters. Pitting their fans against one another. It guts me. Like the lowest thing for DC to do is pit these two close friends against one another.

That's why it kills me. Part of me YEARNS for a new Cass ongoing, but goddammit Stephanie got screwed too in this. So if both get ongoing with Babs I am okay with this. Because dammit these characters need love, not freaking hatred.

DC really does owe it to both characters and their fans this. THEY REALLY OWE THEM for the hell these characters had to endure because of idiotic higher-ups who had horrible agendas and wanted to push a fast buck.

So now you know how DC did it. How they took this character who was a major fixture in the Batman comics and downplayed her SOOOOOOO much with bad storytelling and shuffling her off to be a side character.

I'm mentally exhausted worn now. I just hope you take these lessons to heart. To learn this shady stuff that DC Comics did and turned an amazing character-- to something less. How fans want more from that character again.

Update July 2021: Gail Simone’s tweet (that she deleted soon after) on this nugget of how the character of Cass was changed due to studio higher ups. 

Update September 2021:

.... 

Here I go again with an UPDATE. After all these years. Confirmation at last (even if they aren't mentioned).  We all know WHICH characters by now Dan DiDio is talking about here.

(You can read the whole interview here.)

#cassandra cain #dc comics #the tragedy of cassandra cain

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Jurassic Park Daily: Introduction - The InGen Incident

Oh wow, this is a blast from the past!

Jurassic Park was published in 1990, and I remember in the 1990s and early 2000s genuinely thinking that, as the introduction says, biotechnology was going to be the next frontier of science to revolutionize society. When the intro speculates “By the end of the decade [biotechnology] will have outdistanced atomic power and computers in its effect on our everyday lives”, by computers it means the start of personal computers - the centrality of the internet to modern life, the development of social media, smartphones, and tablets were all in the future.

So the prediction was way off. Advances in communications have remained the major technological advance affecting daily life for the three decades since Jurassic Park was published, and while biotch has made advances and remains regularly in the news, any changes it has brought in daily life pale in comparison to those. Additionally, other people did see the same things Crichton did, and the field of bioethics took off in consequence.

The emphasis on the commercialization of molecular biology as opposed to other scientific fields in the introduction is particularly striking, given the absolute centrality of business to the ‘tech sector’ - computing and the internet having become so big that ‘tech’ has come to be understood as referring specifically to them. That STEM means mainly private enterprise, not academic research, is something we’ve come to almost take for granted now.

That’s not to say biotech has had no impact on life - it’s widened our ability to modify crops beyond what we could do with hybridization, it’s improved medicine, and people use it to get geneological imformation - but it has proved far more complex than people expected, and the real technological revolution was elsewhere.

(Realized that the way this post is written could give the impression that the intro is a sort of topical preface by Crichton rather than part of the story, so to clarify: that is not the case. The intro is part of the story. And I like the way that we’re told the broad strokes of how things will end - the main events will involve a small number of people on an island in Central America over a couple days, many of those people will die, and InGen will go bankrupt - at the beginning, with the suspense in the book coming from the details.)

#jurassic park #jurassic park daily

[sugdenlovesdingle]

This was supposed to be a short little thing for @tarlosweeklyprompts word of the day Apology... but then it suddenly became more than 2000 words. Oops?

Clark Kent (AO3)

Carlos in those glasses in 4x09 was giving me major Clark Kent vibes, but they were different from the ones he wore last season. This is why. (And if the show ever says something else - no they don't)

---

“How about these?” TK took a pair of glasses from the display and put them on Carlos’ face. “They suit you.”

Carlos looked in the mirror and frowned at his reflection.

“I don’t know…”

He put the frames back on the display.

“I think I’ll just see if they can fix the ones I’ve got.”

“Why? It’s the perfect opportunity for an upgrade. You’ve had these for as long as I’ve known you. And knowing you, you’ve had them even longer.”

“Yeah, well… They do what they’re supposed to!” Carlos protested, not wanting to admit defeat.

TK rolled his eyes at him and turned his attention back to the display.

“How about these? They’re fun!”

Carlos looked at the brightly coloured monstrosity TK had picked out and put his hand up to stop him from putting them on his face.

“No. Just no. Do I look like Elton John to you?”

“No… but I have to look at you wearing them. And I think something fun like this would suit you.”

“Do you think bad taste in eyewear would be considered irreconcilable differences as grounds for divorce?”

“Funny.” TK muttered under his breath as he followed Carlos to the counter.

“Good afternoon, can I help you?” the store clerk greeted them.

Carlos took his glasses case out of his pocket and opened it.

“I was hoping you’d be able to fix these?”

The woman winced when she saw the state of Carlos’ glasses.

“What happened?”

“Occupational hazard.” Carlos said, keeping it vague.

Next to him TK had to bite his lip so he wouldn’t say anything, or worse, laugh.

“What do you do?”

“I’m a cop.”

“Oh. Did they break when you were chasing a bad guy? Or had to fight someone?”

“Yeah… something like that.”

The woman nodded and carefully lifted up Carlos’ glasses.

“Well I can send them to our specialists and see what they can do… I’m afraid the damage is too severe for me to try and fix in store.”

“Ok. How long would that take?”

“Hard to say. We’re short staffed at the moment so everything takes longer than we’d like.”

“How about an estimate?”

“A few weeks probably. Maybe longer.” The woman replied and put the glasses back in the case. “I’m sorry. Do you have a spare pair?”

“Uh yeah… old ones. The prescription has changed since I got those…”

“When was the last time you got your prescription checked? It’s recommended you get your eyes tested at least every two years.”

“I can see fine.” Carlos said, sensing where the conversation would be going and shutting it down right away. “If you send these to the specialists today, do you think they’ll be ready by the 15th?”

“I can ask them to try… but I can’t make any promises.”

Carlos sighed.

“Alright.”

“If you would order a whole new pair they’d be ready in a week and if you get an eye test here, I can offer you a 20% discount.”

“That’s a good deal isn’t it, babe?” TK tried. “You could have a look around for an upgrade. We could even put it on my insurance. It covers spouses too.”

Carlos narrowed his eyes at him.

“Is that what you were doing on the computer this morning? Checking your policy?”

“Maybe…”

“APD insurance covers it too. And the department knows you don’t need glasses.”

“If you want to look around, we have the most popular men’s frames in the display over there, and the whole left side is our men’s department.” The woman told them. “But of course you’re welcome to look around on the women’s side too.” She added quickly. “If you need any help or advice, just let me know.”

“Right. Thank you.” Carlos said and wearily eyed the wall of frames. “Maybe we should just go home. I can wear my old ones while I wait for these to be done.” He told TK.

“Come on, we came all the way out here on our day off. Let’s just have a look around. Maybe you’ll find some you like.” TK said and dragged a reluctant Carlos over to the ‘most popular’ display.

“I just want something simple. I’ll mostly just wear them at home anyway.”

“Ok. Simple. Got it.”

“Do you? I remember what your father came up with when we wanted simple for the wedding…”

“And that turned out fine in the end, didn’t it?” TK picked a pair of frames from the display. The lenses were bigger than Carlos’ current glasses and the frame was a dark blue colour. He put them on Carlos’ face. “This would go nicely with your uniform. It’s almost the same colour.”

“I don’t need anything to go with my uniform because I won’t be wearing them at work.” Carlos argued. He looked in the mirror and had to admit they didn’t look too bad. “I don’t know about these. They’re kind of big.” He put them back and looked around for something smaller.

“These are about the same size as your old ones.” TK held up a pair of thin silver frames that made the lenses seem like they were floating.

Carlos put them on. He liked them, they were similar to the ones he currently wore and he supposed he looked good in them.

“They look kind of fragile though.” He said and he and TK shared a look before putting them back.

“Yeah… you need something more sturdy.” TK agreed and picked another pair from the display.

“No.” Carlos said right away. “Aviators? Really?”

“Just try them on! I just want to see how they look on you.” TK pleaded. “They’re Armani.”

“They’re ugly.” Carlos argued but put them on to humour his husband.

TK bit his lip to stop himself from laughing.

“Yeah… no. This… isn’t it.”

Carlos looked in the mirror and groaned before taking them off.

“They make me look like a serial killer.”

TK laughed.

“Maybe a little.”

They kept browsing the store and TK made Carlos try on just about every pair in the collection, and even trying on some himself.

“Yes. These are perfect.” He said as he put what Carlos had insisted would be the last pair on his husband’s face. “You look amazing in these baby.”

“You’re my husband, you’re supposed to say that.”

TK took his phone out of his pocket and snapped a quick picture.

“Let’s ask the gang then. Or your mom.”

“No, don’t do that.” Carlos groaned and grabbed TK’s phone from his hands. “They’ll see it eventually. Maybe.”

“Ok then we’ll ask the expert.” TK decided and walked back over to the counter. “Excuse me, could we get your professional opinion on these? I think he looks great in them, but my husband seems to think I’m biased.”

The woman gave them a friendly smile and took a good look at Carlos.

“I think they look very nice. May I?” she asked, raising her hands towards Carlos’ face. He nodded and she carefully checked the way the temples fit his face and the bridge and nose pads fit his nose. “If you want these, we’d only have to make minimal adjustments to the fit.”

“See babe? They’re made for you.” TK reasoned.

Carlos took them off and turned them over in his hands.

“I suppose I do like them…” he looked at the price tag. “And they fit my insurance budget…”

“So… you’ll take them?”

“Yeah… Yes, I’ll take them.”

“Excellent choice.” The store clerk said and took them frames from him. “I’ll go set everything up for your eye test, I’ll come get you when I’m done.” She said and left them alone.

“You really do look great in them baby. You could even wear them all the time, instead of just at home.”

“Maybe.” Carlos replied. He didn’t like wearing his glasses outside of their home, and definitely not at work. He preferred the freedom of his contact lenses.

TK smiled and stepped closer to him, slipping his arms around his waist.

“I know you don’t like wearing them around people that aren’t me… but you have absolutely nothing to feel self-conscious about.” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Carlos’ lips. “You look hot in them. You’re my Clark Kent.”

Carlos smiled.

“Don’t even go there. The superman references is what got us here in the first place.”

~ 14 hours earlier ~

“Alone at last.” TK said, sliding the loft door shut behind his dad. “I’m really going to have to teach my dad to call before coming over from now on.”

“Yeah.” Carlos agreed. “Dinner with your dad talking about police codes really wasn’t what I had in mind for tonight.”

“Same here.” TK pushed himself off the wall next to the door. “How am I supposed to focus on conversation when you’re sitting there, looking like that.” He motioned at Carlos’ outfit.

Carlos smirked.

“I wasn’t planning on you focusing on other things when I put it on.”

“Well… mission accomplished.” TK ran his hands up Carlos’ arms to his shoulders and down his chest. “You look so hot in this shirt… I’ve wanted to take it off you all night.”

“I’m not stopping you.”

TK bit his lip as he slowly undid the buttons on Carlos’ shirt and pulled it free from his jeans.

“You’re wearing too many layers.” He mumbled.

“For you. You love unwrapping presents.”

“Hmm… true.” TK pushed Carlos’ shirt off his shoulders and crowded him against the kitchen island.

Carlos’ own hands had started wandering and slipped under TK’s sweater, pushing it up and yanking it over his head, dropping it on the floor somewhere near his own shirt.

“That sweater is way too nice for dinner with your dad.”

“It was for dinner with my husband. And dessert.” TK said and let Carlos take control and turn them around so his back was against the counter instead.

Carlos hands came up to his neck and he pulled him close and finally kissed him, the way he’d wanted to ever since he’d gotten out of the shower after his shift.

“We should take this to the bedroom.” Carlos suggested when they broke the kiss but TK shook his head and made quick work of Carlos’ t-shirt before pulling him back in for another kiss.

Their kisses soon heated up and TK hooked one leg around Carlos’ to pull him even closer.

“Babe…” Carlos panted between kisses. “Bed.”

TK groaned but let Carlos hoist him up and he wrapped his legs around his waist.

“I love how strong you are. You’re like superman.” He babbled.

“If I’m superman, you’re my kryptonite.” Carlos mumbled, not really paying attention but focused on getting TK to their bed.

Only halfway there he decided the sofa was good enough and put TK down and joined him on there.

“You know kryptonite can kill superman, right?” TK said and Carlos had to resist rolling his eyes at his husband.

“You’re going to be the death of me if you don’t kiss me right now.” He said and TK was more than happy to comply.

He shifted so he was sitting sideways on the sofa and pulled Carlos down on top of him between his open legs.

Carlos kissed his way up TK’s chest to his lips and let TK pull him with him when he lay back against the armrest.

Suddenly they heard a crunching noise from underneath TK’s back and they both froze.

“What was that?” Carlos mumbled and TK reached underneath himself.

“Oh no…”

“What?”

“I am so sorry baby. I forgot that was here.”

Carlos sat back on his heels as TK sat up but kept his hand behind his back.

“Babe… what is it?”

“I’m really sorry. I should have checked. I should have gone to the bedroom with you when you asked. I’m sorry.”

“TK. Tyler. What’s in your hand?” Carlos said, using TK’s full name as a way to snap him out of his spiral.

“I’m so sorry…” he said again and slowly removed his hand from behind his back and showed Carlos exactly what had gotten crushed underneath him.

“My glasses.”

#911 lone star #tarlos #tarlos fic #twpmarchdailyword #tk strand #carlos reyes