#Earth is just what it is typically called in English

[ask-thearchivists]

Have you ever seen an anomalocaris?

The Coordinator: No, never, is this one of those 'Earth' animals you saw in your visions?

Uncle Coor: The 'humans' you spoke of named their planet 'earth'? Do they name themselves Guy and Gal as well? Towns named city? Rivers named river? How funny!

[starwrighter]

Dude, get a restraining order

(Masterpost) (Ao3 link) (previous)

(Chapter #5 Ya'll)

Just like he said he would, Damian walked Danny to his earth science classroom. Guiding him through labyrinth-like hallways with a firm grip on his sleeve. It’s as if he thought Danny would slip through his fingers and be swept away by the crowd of students. Embarrassingly enough, that’s an accurate assumption of both his luck and his situational awareness. If he dared to imagine the future, prison bars, sigils, and the outline of a body immediately came to mind.

Forever he’d be thanking the ancients for Damian expert skills in navigating. Without him, he’d probably be curled up at the bottom of a staircase by now. Or in a death cult keen on taking over the world. It might seem ridiculously pessimistic, but freaky escalations like that happened to him all the time! He’d gone from searching for a gift he’d accidentally knocked into the zone to staging a massive prison break! Needless to say, he appreciated the company.

“Since your map is half a century out-of-date; I’ll pick you up around lunchtime,” Damian declared, curtly waiting for his response.

”Sounds good,” Giving the other boy a small wave and a thankful smile Danny headed into the classroom.

A ghost of a smile tugged at his lips as he read the cheesy geology jokes scrawled onto the board. The jokes were stupid in a way only teachers or dads could make them. Puns that could do psychic damage if you dare read them aloud. It’s beautiful. Leagues above a certain English teacher who butchered slang so brutally the lingo died on the spot.

The typical classroom posters lined the walls. A clear bucket full of rocks just sitting on the teacher’s desk as she started taking attendance. He sat close to the front furthest from the door. His blindside faced the wall, nobody could sneak up on him and he wouldn’t be trampled when the bell rang. Nobody could gawk pityingly at his face this way. Yeah, you could pry this spot from his cold dead hands.

It might seem extreme but people were…Weird when it came down to his disability. Some people treated him like he was utterly useless, incapable of doing anything on his own. They tried to “help” without bothering to ask about his condition or if he even needed help. It was so much worse the first few months after the accident. He was wheelchair-bound for that. -1/10 wouldn’t recommend.

He could say with certainty nobody wanted to be paralyzed. It’s jarring how differently treated him back then. They’d point out the obvious like he’s completely blind. Annoying, but understandable considering how gnarled his facial injuries were before they healed. It looked like somebody shot him in the face with a firework. The fact that he didn’t lose an eye was a medical miracle backed by new ghostly powers.

What wasn’t understandable was the complete lack of boundaries strangers had with him and his wheelchair. No amount of warning could’ve prepared him for the first time someone grabbed his wheelchair and moved him. He thought it’d been a one-time thing but it happened again and again without fail. Somebody would move him out of the way or try to “Help” him get to where he’s going. Several times without so much of a “Hello! Do you need some help,” people he’d never spoken to would grab the handles of his chair and start pushing him.

It’s infuriatingly dehumanizing and their heartbroken faces when he called them out tugged at his heartstrings. So many times he’d guiltily stewed over his responses. Jazz killed that guilt without so much as a thought when she put things into perspective. Even though Jazz had a habit of psychoanalyzing him it felt good when she said his anger warranted.

Nothing would ever feel as good as taking those first shaky steps outside his wheelchair though. The wave of overwhelming emotion when a group of baffled doctors told him his paralysis wasn’t as permanent as they previously thought was unparalleled. He cried a lot that day. Tears of joy, he’s not ashamed to admit that.

Never in his life would he have thought he’d be grateful for Dash’s bullying. But after a full two months of extensive physical therapy and multiple surgeries, he now knew were unnecessary anyone treating him like they did before was a godsend. Dash believed in a twisted kind of equality when it came to bullying, he’d pick on anyone he deemed a loser. For him, it’d been verbal harassment, but regaining the ability to walk gave him confidence. He was extremely cocky, snapping back with sarcastic venom at every dig made at him.

Slowly but surely, people stopped babying him. It was harder to argue that someone was helpless when they were actively picking fights with the star football player. After all the shit he’d involved himself in people treated him like normal. Normal in the sense he was picked on for being a loser with crazy parents.

He’d take that kind of bullying over the underhanded insults drowned in infantilism. As the months passed it felt like everyone forgot about his accident. His classmates would get angry at him when he couldn’t keep up with them and go green with envy when he got extra time for his assignments. People acted like he was getting special treatment just for the sake of it.

Like full body electrocution was something he could just walk off. They didn’t understand how walking and running were easier than standing in place. He was accused of faking it whenever he stood up from his wheelchair. People were offended that he still considered his left side blind when he could still see light in his peripherals.

Everyone he talked to said he was lucky. Lucky to survive, lucky to walk again without aid, lucky to have all the sweet powers, lucky lucky lucky. He didn’t feel all that lucky when his joints locked or when reading gave him migraines so bad he questioned if being alive was worth it.

He knows it could be worse. Dear god does he know it could be so, so, much worse. He could be fully dead. Charred to a crisp without even a blast shadow as evidence of his death. He should’ve been paralyzed from the neck down for the rest of his life. Braindead, hooked up to a machine as his family mourned their loss. The consequences of walking into that portal chamber were so much lighter than anyone could’ve imagined. So he dealt with it.

Things could be worse. At least he wasn’t in Gotham directly after his accident. Slipping through solid objects around people 100x more fearful of their surroundings was a wonderful way to speedrun getting his spine shattered by a guy in a bat suit. Or trafficked. Danny winces as he scribbles on a sheet of lined paper.

Someone is staring at him. The boy beside him was shooting daggers into his very soul. Hadn’t even bothered to hide the way his face twisted in suspicion when Danny turned to look him in the eyes.

“You need something?” Danny probed, praying this was just him misreading facial expressions.

“What the hell happened to you?” The other boy whispered, his tone harsh and accusatory.

“A shocking experience,” His half-assed response earns him a sharp glare and a sneer.

“No really, what happened?”

“Got zapped,” He shrugs, hoping his classmate would take the hint and drop it.

“That’s not what I meant,” The other seethed. “How did you get electrocuted?”

”Electricity,”

“The fact you’re dodging my question makes you look more suspicious,”

“Not trauma dumping on a stranger makes me suspicious?”

“It’s Gotham! We don’t get transfer students outside major cities and we certainly don’t get ones willing to stay for months! What are you planning?” He hisses, voice cracking as he tried and failed to make it sound lower.

“Trust me, if I had a choice to stay home I would’ve,”

“I don’t think I do trust you,”

“That's not my problem,” Danny shrugged. This guy spoke with the delusional confidence only the stubbornest flat earther could rival. He’s not a gothamite by any means but wasn’t the key unspoken rule of the city “Mind your damn business unless you’re a bat,” It’s on par with Don’t dig straight down but this guy clearly hadn’t learned of the former.

“Why do you have fangs?”

”Genetics,” What kind of question was that? Plenty of people had fangs. It’s a common trait, almost every person in amity has it!

”I don’t believe you,”

Heh? What’s the point in asking if he wasn’t going to believe him when he answered? It reminded him of a certain annoyance back home.

“Why do you-“

”Leave me alone!” He snaps. It’s like his classmates doing his best impression of a toddler! “Why?” “Why?” “Why?” Desperately trying to catch Danny in a lie and refusing to believe any response that wasn’t a confession of guilt. World's greatest detective over here, interrogating him for having the audacity to show up to Gotham with “Gasp!” Scars! Oh, the humanity! What a delinquent!

Ancients’ weren’t these prissy private schools supposed to be better than public schools? He walked to school today expecting to be murdered and or indoctrinated into a weird death cult not interrogated by Walmart Batman over here!

What was this guy expecting to drag out of him anyway? Blueprints for a deathray? A secret plot to break everyone out of Arkham? Secret rogue plans? He just got here today! What could he possibly be planning when his apartment didn’t even have toilet paper yet? They hadn’t even hit the 24-hour mark and he already had a conspiracy theorist pestering him.

“Why are you-“ Copycat Wes starts.

”Leave him alone you fucking moron!” A female voice snaps behind them.

“ You don’t understand! He-,” Sputtering to defend himself the girl glowered at him.

“Has done nothing to warrant your harassment,” She finished the sentence for him.

”No! He’s up to something I swear! Just look at him,”

The girl looked him up and down, her hazel eyes shooting daggers into his soul. “He looks like he’s a strong breeze away from a heart attack,”

Ouch.

"There is something wrong with him, you're just too dim to see it," He spits.

 

“Listen here you toe-eyed spaz, I don’t want to have to deal with Lightning Rod over here frying people to death because you wouldn’t stop tormenting him!” She seethed, jabbing her finger into Offbrand’s chest.

“How do you know he’s not going to do that regardless?”

She turns her attention back to him. “Are you going to start doing rogue shit?” She speaks calmly as if she’s asking about the weather.

He pretends to ponder for a second, checking his phone for dramatic effect. “ Nah, My sister says I’m not allowed to be a criminal outside my hometown. It’ll affect her chances of getting into a good college,” To his surprise, that’s an acceptable response for her.

”See, he’s fine.”

“Did you not hear a word he said?” Copycat sputters. “He just admitted to being a criminal,”

“And?”

“What do you mean, and?” The boy is red in the face now.

”That’s not our problem,” She replied bluntly.

“How is it not our problem?”

“It just isn’t,”

“It clearly is “ He emphasizes.

“This is why you keep getting mugged,” She snaps. “You’ve lived in Gotham your whole life, how have not learned how to mind your damn business,”

“I know how to mind my business. This is my business. You’re the one who butted in,”

“I’m a nosy bitch too. But I’m not the one who’s pretending to be Batman.” She’s smirking now, tapping her fingernails on her desk.

“I’m not pretending to be Batman,” He defends, hands clenched into fists. “I’m just doing my civic duty!”

“You’re delusional,”

“Well- at least I’m not a criminal,” Offbrand Wes sneered, whipping around to glare at him.

Oh great, he’s directly involved again.

“What a scathing remark, I’ll be sure to cry about it while I build my deathray,” Maybe he shouldn’t keep antagonizing. Offbrand looked about ready to strangle him.

“Now you’re pissing him off on purpose,” The girl behind them deadpans.

“ I am, thanks for noticing,” He’s giddy, a shit-eating grin on his face that would immediately get him shanked if he were outside right now.

Their conversation continues. The three of them whisper-yelling at each other. Offbrand Wes fumed at every one of Danny’s sarcastic responses, doubling down on his suspicions. With every absurd accusation thrown his way, the girl defended him. But if you listened in for more than a few seconds you could see she didn’t step to his defense for the sake of being nice. She just really hated this kid. Who could blame her?

The argument devolved into the two gothamites insulting each other in a way only rich kids could. Family names Danny barely recognized as important were thrown around like dodgeballs. Maybe if Danny kept up with celebrity drama he’d be able to tell who’s winning?

“Daniel Fenton? ” He almost jumps at the sudden interruption. He’d been so awestruck watching these two go at each other's throats that he hadn’t noticed anyone approaching them. The teacher is staring down at him; he smiles politely. Better to garner goodwill now rather than later.

”I’d like to see you after class today,” Oh god, already? What had he done to peeve this teacher? Did she hear them arguing? Offbrand was grinning, vindicated as Danny stumbled over himself.

“Oh- uh, will it take long? A friend said he’d help me find my classes since my map is a little off.” He offered up the map as proof. A sacrifice in hopes of leniency for whatever crimes he’s about to be accused of.

The woman looked over the paper, her relaxed expression dropping with the growing confusion.

“Can I see your schedule?” Danny hands it over without a word. Slowly, she ran her fingers against the brail of his schedule. The slow shift in her stance as her face paled felt like it’d been ripped straight from the trailer of a horror movie. He’s heard a lot of crazy things in his life but nothing would ever shock him more than what his teacher said next.

“We’re going be sued into the fucking ground,” Her words were barely audible, whispered behind a closed fist. Danny’s stunned silence was a thousand times louder. Teachers could swear here?! Isn’t that illegal? He sits speechless for an agonizing minute, unsure if he’s in trouble.

Wordlessly, she drags him to the front of the classroom. It feels like he’s being walked to the gallows.

“Do you mind if I keep this?”

”Yeah? I need to know my schedule,” Was wandering around clueless detention for Gotham schools? He hadn’t even done anything. Sure, he was a tad bit tardy this morning. That’s the plane's fault, not his!

“You don’t have a school iPad?” She sounds utterly exasperated.

“No,” He’s supposed to have a school iPad?

“Did they at least give you a proper school I.D.?”

”I hope so ” He shows her the plastic card he’d been given alongside his schedule. She scrutinized the card, glaring intently at every word. It’d taken hours to get a decent photo for that stupid card.

“There’s something wrong with it isn’t there?” Screwed over straight from the get-go. He’ll be haunting the front desk for the foreseeable future.

“No, no it’s fine,” She waves him off. “Leave the map with me and drop your schedule off at the front desk when you leave for the day okay?” He nods, that’s all he can do at the moment.

When the bell finally rang their teacher practically shooed his classmates out the door. Students clogged the doorway, a glob of tangled backpacks that slowly oozed into halls separating with miffed expressions. The tile floor couldn’t be more appealing as he waited for the bomb to drop. In a fancy school like this, the punishment for tardiness could be public execution. You never know.

The punishment for seeing the school guidance counselor had been public humiliation with a side of attempted murder. So capital punishment being carried out in schools wasn’t something he’d be surprised about. They’d better have a guillotine, he’s gotten pretty sick of the electric chair.

“Is your friend coming to get you?” The woman asks, still studying the map with a furrowed brow. She squinted at the paper holding out in front of her face like the distance would change the image.

“I think so, he dropped me off here,” Danny pauses, fiddling with the buttons on the cuffs of his sleeves. “I’m not in trouble, am I?”

She shakes her head much to his relief “Somebody’s going to be in trouble but it certainly isn’t you,”

Patterned knocking at the classroom door draws his attention from the woman. Green eyes met blue as Damian quietly entered the room.

“That’s him!” Beaming, he turns back to the teacher. “Can I go now?” She nods wordlessly. With her approval, Danny doesn't hesitate for a second. He darts over to the other boy with a relieved grin on his face.

“How was class?” He asks as they step out of the classroom.

”Unnoteworthy,” Damian hummed.

”Same,” I mean, technically he did get into a fight. But it wasn’t exactly something to write home about. Blows hadn’t been exchanged and he wasn’t gut-punched with a month's worth of detention. Yet.

The walk to the lunch room is heavily crowded. The cafeteria echoed with the chattering of a sea of teenagers. Their navy blue uniform made clusters of students indistinguishable from one another. Sam would hate it here.

“Hey, on a scale of one to ten, how would you rate lunch here?”

“Ten. I bring my food from home,” Damian responds quickly pausing afterward as if he’s contemplating a second answer.

“Fair,” He shrugs “nothing beats some home-cooked edible food,” Memories swirled through his brain like he’s a soldier fresh out of war. Reanimated turkeys, living mashed potatoes, gallons of milk that glowed bright enough to light an entire room.

“I reckon your parents’ aren’t the best chefs?” He can barely hold back a wince at the question.

”They try to be…” He sighs “Dad can make some killer fudge but everything else he cooks looks radioactive,”

“I suppose I can relate to that” Damian drawls, “Most of the family is barred from the kitchen without supervision,”

“That’s probably a good idea, learning to cook can be pretty messy,”

” I take it you’re the cook of your family?” Damian asks, eyebrows raised.

“Eh, kind of? I’m not the best but I can make edible food,”

“The bare minimum you know?” He laughs. “My parents are scientists so there wasn’t exactly time for cooking lessons while they were drilling us on safely handling their machinery,”

Damian looks him up and down, eyes locking on his face. “I don’t think those ‘drills’ did you well,”

“They did. I deliberately ignored what they taught me; fucked around and found out,” He shrugs. The past is the past and he’s learned not to change it for his own sake.

“I see…”

“Soooo…” Danny starts, the silence between the two of them awkward. “How would you rate the school-provided lunch?” He reiterated.

”I’ve only eaten the school-provided lunch once but I’d say it’s a four, maybe four point five if I’m being generous,”

”I’d settle for edible,” It’s a private school. Sure, it being in Gotham threw him off a little but what’s the worst that could happen? He dies? A bit too late for that.

“Your standards concern me,”

“Take that up with my school cafeteria; they gave me those standards,” To be fair, his parents contributed to that too. So had Nasty Burger. He had a love-hate relationship with food especially when it’s from a school cafeteria.

Call him paranoid but Casper High fed people dirt and grass plucked from the football field as a “Vegan option” Don’t even get him started on the rocks. Whole ass stones almost as big as his fist. They’d been expected to eat that?! Anyone who’d gotten nailed with one of those suckers when ‘food’ started flying, forever had his sympathy. Nobody was hospitalized but he’d seen the dents in the wall when they made him clean the cafeteria. Rocks were chucked in that food fight.

He’d gathered his lunch without much of an issue. The salad wasn’t sentient and his sandwich hadn’t screamed at him yet. He’d even managed to remember his lunch number at the end of it! Today’s a good day to be pleasantly surprised by the bare minimum. God knows he's gonna need the extra positivity.

Walking through the cafeteria, he spots Damian pretty quickly. The other somehow found himself one of the only empty tables in the whole cafeteria. When Damian waves him over it takes all his self-control to stifle a grin. For a split second, he’d thought he’d overstepped. Thought he’d missed the signs that Damian wanted him gone like Dad missed the signs that Vlad was a psycho.

“Are you really the chef of your family?” Damian questions.

“I am,” he grins, as Damian eyes him skeptically. “Does this-“ Danny gestures at himself. “Not look like the textbook example of a five-star chef to you?”

“Absolutely not,” Damian replied coldly without skipping a beat. “You look like you could burn a bowl of cereal,”

“I can cook, it just took a while to learn how,” You could only learn so fast when every ingredient is contaminated by a mystery cocktail of chemicals.

Even if he wasn’t a master chef he’s better than he was those first months after the accident. So many dishes shattered against the floor. He’d been scolded for each one. Anything he tried to hold slipped from his grasp before the ten-second mark.

“Could you give me any advice?” Damian asked.

“Try out some pasta recipes,” He comments between bites of his sandwich. “They’re hard to screw up and almost every cookbook has about a dozen you can practice,”

“Don’t go with overly complicated recipes straight off the bat. If you’re trying to make a three-course dinner when you can barely make a peanut butter jelly sandwich you’ll end up with a whole lot of wasted food and some scratched pans,” Danny warns, he’s lost count of the hours he’d spent scrubbing the charred food out of pots and pans.

“Alfred wouldn’t be happy about that,”

“Maybe you should ask ‘Alfred’ to teach you,” Danny comments, he wasn’t a tutor. That’s Jazz’s job. Sure, he’d like to be helpful but his journey in the kitchen involved resurrected coleslaw and radioactive dairy products. An experience few could relate to.

“I taught myself with YouTube tutorials, cookbooks, and spite; I’m sure you’d learn better with someone with someone there to give you feedback on what you’re doing.”

“Tch,” Damian glowered, shooting daggers down at his food.

“I’m serious!” He emphasizes, “Trying to wing it straight off the bat just isn’t a good idea,” He knew from experience. Food poisoning isn’t fun. Neither were the blisters you’d get from boiling oil.

“I’m sure many people ‘wing it’ in the kitchen,” Damian insists. “What if I’m a naturally born chef?”

”Didn’t you say you’re barred from the kitchen?” Damian’s cheeks turn a flustered red.

”I said most of my family is barred from the kitchen!” Damian defends like Danny’s ‘accusation’ is a slight against his character.

”Are you included in that ban?”

”…yes” The other boy whispers begrudgingly. He tries, he really does, but there’s no stopping the quiet giggle that erupts from his chest. Damian glares daggers at him cheeks rosy with embarrassment.

”I swear I’m not laughing at you,” He wheezes. It’s a lie and both of them know it.

”Go ahead and laugh, I’m not the one who fried myself,” Damian huffs.

Danny made jokes about his accident all the time. Much to everyone else's dismay his lab accident was his go-to event to joke about. No matter how many times he got scolded for “Making people uncomfortable” he kept it up. This wasn’t the first time someone had made a comment but there’s something about the way he said it. Something about the way he emphasized his words made Danny lose all composure. Collapsing into his folded arms, shoulder shaking with silent laughter.

”Hey…” The other boy’s voice is weaved with concern a guilty lift to his voice. Gently, he pokes Danny’s arm. Any worry drained from his features when Danny lifted his head to look at him.

”I thought I'd upset you!” Damian half shouts.

”Nah, I’ve got thicker skin than that,” He reassures.

”You're the first, Others tell me I come off rather… cold,”

“Really?” That’s a surprise. Danny couldn’t see it, then again he hasn’t known Damian for very long. After all that’s happened, he’d like to think he’s a better judge of character. The other boy didn’t give off Penelope spectra vibes. Nor did he act like a miniature Vlad. If anything, he reminded him of Sam.

“You’re a liar if you think I’m friendly,” He snaps scowling at Danny as if he’d just spat in his lunch or something.

”I’m not a liar, I just have a different definition of friendly than you do,”

“Does your definition of friendly happen to be rich?”

“Fuck no!” He snaps without thinking. Raising an eyebrow Damian stares at him green eyes scrutinizing his expression like there’s deeper meaning in his words. “Eat the rich,” He clarifies, as if that’s supposed to explain anything.

“Friendliness is compassion, a willingness to help, not sugar-sweet conversations with extroverted compassion,” It’s easy to put on a sweet voice while you screw someone over. Even easier to insult someone with a snidely worded ‘compliment’.

“You helped me without hesitation when you could have left me to fend for myself,”

“The situation was ridiculous, I had to help.” Damian defends

“ You didn’t have to,” he points out.

“Listen, I’m not trying to challenge your view of yourself; I’m just saying you’ve been nice to me so far,”

Damian relaxes, staring down at his lunch. “I pity you,”

“Pity me enough to give me a bite?” Danny asks, batting his eyes obnoxiously.

“Absolutely not,”

“Fuck.”

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

See The Road You're On

Elks Chapter 1 Version 2.0

Pairing: Jackson Joel Miller x Female Reader Chapter Rating: T. (Nothing explicit for the first few chapters.) Chapter Summary: The man you've had a crush on since he showed up to Jackson just so happens to be your favorite student's caretaker.. and he just saw you do a brutal face plant in front of his home. Chapter Warnings: soft jackson joel, outbreak and quarantine zone memories, ellie has a smart mouth, anxious reader, mentions of blood and an injury from falling, everyone lives happily ever after, joel and ellie don’t leave jackson, early 2000’s indie rock Words: 5,500 Header courtesy of @saradika-graphics

Next Chapter

Masterlist Playlist “Caring Is Creepy” - The Shins

The world ended the day after you bought your homecoming dress. You begged your mom for it–a beautiful deep forest green sequined sweetheart a-line gown–the neckline perfectly showed off your prized gold daisy pendant. You felt like a princess, life couldn’t have been better. Your alarm buzzed on the morning of September 26, 2003, the only worry floating around your teenage head was the grade you’d receive on your essay about René Magritte for AP English. While walking home after a typical boring high school day with your guitar slung across your back and headphones on, little did you know you were hearing the final lyrics before everything changed:

“Hold your glass up, hold it in Never betray the way you’ve always known it is One day, I’ll be wondering how I got so old, just wondering how”

Twenty years later, hardened by life in the Denver Quarantine Zone and gently softened by your now comfortable life in Jackson, you’re still waiting for your first dance.

Art and music have always been at the forefront of your life; you’ve never allowed anything to take away your creativity. Continuing to create no matter how much pain the reality of losing everyone you’ve loved to the plague roaming the earth brought you. You create for yourself using art as a way to soothe your thoughts and anxieties, you create for the Settlement of Jackson to give back to the town that has given you a good life for the past five years, and most importantly you create for your students at the school you’ve taught at since your arrival. 

The fifteen years spent in the Denver QZ tried to steal your colors and mute your songs, joy became more difficult to find as each year behind the giant iron gates passed. The only sources of happiness were supplied by your small group of friends and your students in the desolate school you taught at. You never graduated high school, there was no pomp and circumstance, just a teaching job assigned to you because you were young and still remembered most of your high school education. That’s how your career was decided, funny how an apocalypse job search happens.

You tried to carve out as much of a life as you could under the overbearing and always watchful eyes of FEDRA soldiers, but it never felt whole. When the opportunity to leave Denver arrived thanks to your kind neighbor’s sister, you grabbed the few items you could and ran away from the only state you ever called home. Now, five years after your escape through the wasteland of the world to a better existence in Jackson, your life is now filled with art, music and purpose. Art supplied by the jars of paints you learned to make and what the patrollers bring you back. Music from the CD player in your house and the guitar you strum. Purpose from the weekdays spent teaching your impressionable students with actual well-rounded futures no longer doomed to become FEDRA fodder, along with the Saturdays spent working at the library you run out of your classroom. It's a good and comfortable life here, even if the nights are lonely and the only company you have in your small cottage are your cats Ripley and Penny. Some extra lonely nights, when the moon sits high atop the mountains, you can’t silence the thoughts that there’s nobody in your life who creates beautiful things for you. Too many nights you find yourself thinking about the man that lives down the street from you… Joel Miller. 

He’s so intimidating, handsome and caged off, akin to an art piece you’d pay admission to be able to stand near. Your own little museum piece you keep to yourself now that museums are obsolete. You’ve never seen anybody more gorgeous… not even in the faded celebrity magazines you cut up to make collages and art out of. Soft and full lips always hidden under a frowning mustache that rests below a large hooked nose. His dark brown eyes often focused forward, always looking in thought underneath furrowed brows. Wavy hair that matches his eye hue with soft silver streaks painted throughout. His body is strong and broad, often hidden underneath a tan flannel lined jacket. He’s tall and big–so big–somebody who has always been a protector. His hands are also large to match the rest of his features with thick fingers that sit capable and dexterous… you can tell they’re efficient for any task you ask of them. His skin is golden, born that way and bronzed by years spent outdoors. The precious pages of your notebook quickly deplete when you try to sketch and master the lines of his face. Maybe you could get the minute details if only you could stop being so afraid of the feelings he stirs inside of you.  

You’ve been enamored with him since he first showed up to Jackson– your life, and all of those feelings you’ve tried to avoid for years– upended by his presence. 

It was a normal day, like any other, when you walked into the Tipsy Bison to drop off some extra shoelaces and push pins for the community swap basket. Your eyes paused at the long communal table where your friends Maria and Tommy were seated with two strangers. A small teenage girl with a tight pony tail and a tattered sweatshirt was talking animatedly with her mouth full. You know kids well after all your years of teaching, you could already spot her tenacity across the room. Sitting next to her bent over a plate of food untamely clutching a fork was a man with a mess of graying hair and a permanent scowl plastered on his handsome face. You noted his strong jaw as he chewed his food, his eyes stared straight forward void of kindness, you wondered when the last time somebody created something beautiful for him. He was the most handsome man you’d ever seen– so intimidatingly sized even in his seated and hunched stature. You quickly flitted over to the corner where the communal basket sat and deposited your items before turning around to head back to your home when you noticed the handsome stranger looking right at you. His eyes darted away right as your eyes widened at his focus before you made your hasty retreat out of the tense room. That night you wrote a song about a once warm and inviting cabin sitting in the woods now cold and desolate with tattered floor boards and a cracked window.

The girl you saw at the Bison with the handsome stranger showed up in your class the next week. Ellie quickly became your favorite student thanks to her love of art and her smart mouth. She’s always so eager to learn in the mornings before heading out with the other older kids for patrol and community training. She doesn’t shut up about your handsome stranger, he’s Joel, Texas born and raised, he’s grumpy, and he loves coffee. He’s not her father, but he’s her protector, everything she tells you makes you think about him more. 

Sometimes you’ll see him walking down the road headed right towards you, a quick tuck of your head down or dash around the nearest corner helps alleviate the panic of being near him. One night you see him with Tommy at the Tipsy Bison in the corner drinking whiskey, your eyes stared unblinking before you realized how anyone could look over and see the way you’re ogling, you quickly created a reason to your friends why you needed to head home, to overwhelmed by his presence just a couple of rows down. Seeing him stirs up so many foreign emotions inside of you, but you like the rush. You like having your little crush, as long as you can keep your distance from him.

“Jeez, what were they thinking when they named these bands? The Shins? The Strokes? The Yeah Yeah Yeahs? Did every band just pick a random word and put The in front of it?” Ellie questions as she peruses your CD collection while you grade papers. With training for the older students canceled due to the winter snow outside, Ellie decided that you needed company in your classroom after school.

“Seems like it, doesn’t it?” you answer. “I’ll have to play them for you one day, those were some of my favorite bands when I was your age.”

“Really? Wicked! I’d love that!” she looks up from your CD book with an enthusiastic smile. You return her smile, happy for the bond the two of you share. “Joel loves music too, wonder if he’d like any of these.” Your pen pauses and your heart rate increases at the mention of his name, you feel foolish for the crush you have on your student’s “father.” 

“I’m sure there’s something in there for everyone,” you say, stacking your papers and capping your pen. “I think we should get going, before the sun sets, El. I’ll lock up.” 

“Aw man, there’s nothing to do at home,” she sighs. 

“Sorry kid,” you shrug. “I’m helping Helen at the Bison tonight and I need to eat dinner beforehand.” 

“Fiiiiiine, thanks for letting me hang with you, this was really fun,” she says as she grabs her backpack and jacket. “Bye Teach!”

Watching her leave, the thought plants in your head that she’s only a couple years younger than the age you were when the outbreak happened. 

The world thaws when winter turns to spring, the sun stays up longer allowing patrollers a better chance to scavenge and bring their finds back. The wish list posted above the communal basket in the Tipsy Bison is filled with requests. Residents ask for a broom, a TV input cable, a glue gun, crayons, and other utilitarian items to help make life easier. You think about writing down the one thing you wish for the most, a new CD player. Your prized possession finally spun its last song a couple days ago making your home fall silent without your constant companion of music. The irony isn’t lost on you that your just as ancient guitar now lays silent against the wall, the crack on the neck finally broke from overuse. You don’t write down your main wish, instead choosing to note that the school needs chalk and you need a new oven mitt. 

“Thought I told you not to touch my stereo kid,” the deep timbre of a Texas accented voice shocks you. Your heart begins to thud against your chest while goosebumps spread along your body; you’re frozen on the floor while you attempt to hide your internal panic. Joel is home. Of course he’s home, this is HIS home and you’re in it breaking HIS rules listening to your favorite mixed CD on HIS stereo system that’s much grander than your pitiful broken CD player. Why did you think letting YOUR STUDENT who’s half your age convince you this was a good idea?

“I know, relax! I’m being active in the community like you asked me to,” Ellie’s response drips with her unshakeable sarcasm. 

Your head turns to find his deep brown eyes boring right into you, he gives you a half smile as you stare back at him, mouth slightly agape. Joel Miller is in Joel Miller’s house with you. 

“This is the teacher I told you about, her stereo broke and I know how important music is to her–kinda like how it is to you. I invited her over so she could play me some of her stuff,” Ellie reasons. The kid is never not convincing. 

You quickly stuff your CD case into your backpack and stand, trying to escape the anxiety of being here in the cozy Miller household with the not-so-cozy-looking Mr. Miller. 

“Mm,” Joel grunts out before turning to you and reaching his hand out. “I‘m Joel.” His big hand envelops yours when you softly grab it to say hello. 

You nervously give him your name, trying to calm your panicked heart. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep any boundaries... I-I really appreciate her offering to help me. My stereo broke a couple days ago and she knew it upset me.” You nervously stammer feeling like a thirteen year old in trouble again as you begin to fiddle with the gold daisy chain around your neck.

“Don’t worry about it,” he urges before looking at Ellie, “I can look past this if it means means you’re getting out of that damn garage.” 

Ellie rolls her eyes, you wonder if every conversation they have is Joel putting a rule down and Ellie breaking it. “She has way better music taste than you have old man. None of that twangy sad music you try to get me to listen to.”

You start to feel antsy as Joel crowds the small space around you. 

“I-I have to head out, I promised Helen I’d help her at the Tipsy Bison.” You’re not due for another hour but you can’t fathom the idea of being unwelcome in Joel’s house.

“Oh, okay. Well, you’re welcome back whenever you want… right Joel?” Ellie looks at him, angling her eyebrow, knowing she’s going to get the answer she wants from him. 

“Uh— of course. S’pose any friend of Ellie’s is welcome here,” Joel hesitates with a smile, his deep brown eyes crinkle in the corners. He’s ridiculously handsome this close, it’s staggering. 

“Thank you again Ellie, I’ll see you tomorrow, make sure you bring your notebook,” you say, turning to walk out the door. 

You rush home, hoping the distinct woodsy smell of Joel’s house on your clothes will linger for a while. You almost trip when you realize you’ve left your favorite mixed CD in Joel’s stereo.

Weeks pass, and the weather gets warmer. Spring is in the air, the trees are covered in bright green leaves, flowers bloom along the vast gardens of fruits and vegetables, everyone’s days turn longer with more tasks to accomplish. There’s always a hopeful breeze in the air for everyone, no longer bunkered down and locked away by the snowy weather. 

Your mixed CD is now a victim of your inability to be anywhere near Joel. Either Ellie decided to keep it for herself, or Joel's decided for you that you don't want it back, especially since you obviously crossed a line. In an odd way, it’s actually a nice feeling, kind of like old times when you'd forget a CD in your friend's car or in your locker over winter break.  It's not like you have anything to play it on, your house is still silent, save for the purring of your cats or whatever song you can remember to hum to yourself. 

It's a warmer day than usual, the sun shines bright and hot in the clear blue sky; all you can think about is getting home and taking a long bath after helping out at the community garden. Your hurried footsteps pitter patter against the warm asphalt in front of Joel’s house. Your heart always begins to race as it comes into view, once in a while you'll get to steal a glance of him leaving for patrol at the same time you're heading to school– those are good mornings. This sweltering afternoon you’ve certainly lucked out, he’s in his yard working on repairing a broken fence post. Your steps begin to slow as you see him set the hammer down, wipe the back of his hand across his sweaty brow, and stretch his back. Panic sets in at the realization he could look right over and see you in the state you’re currently in. You’ve been up to your knees in soil since school ended, watering and deadheading plants while letting the dirt on your skin bake in the warm sun. Your anxious steps pick up pace, failing to hop over the divot in the road you always remember to avoid. A trip and a fall ends with you landing hard on your stomach knocking the wind out of you. You can just make out the fall of heavy boot steps on the ground over the sound of your lungs gasping for air as you turn over.

“Whoa whoa whoa, you okay darlin’?” Joel asks. His broad body eclipses the bright sun when he bends over your body splayed out on the pavement. “S’alright, s’alright, breathe.” 

You lose even more breath at the sight of him. The sheen of sweat against his skin makes it glow bright. This is the first time you’ve seen him without a jacket or flannel, there’s a constellation of freckles on his neck you’ve never noticed. His biceps strain the fabric of his short sleeves when he reaches to put a comforting hand on your shoulder. You can’t tell if you’re still panicking from your fall or the stress of Joel seeing you as pathetic as you think you look. He called you darling and you feel like a fool. 

“I’m okay–I-I’m sorry…. I’m okay,” gasps out between breaths. You whimper from pain as you attempt to stand but it hurts far too much. 

“Hold on, hold on, there’s no need to rush, you took a mighty fall. Ya’ got a big cut on your knee, let me help you,” Joel’s eyes roam you under brows wrinkled with concern. 

“No, no, I’m okay really, I-I’m really okay,” you try to calmly assert, losing terribly against your rising embarrassment. 

“S’alright now, I have some peroxide and bandages in my house, Ellie’d kill me if she knew I left you injured,” he implores reaching his hand out. "I want to help you, come here."

“I– okay,” you grab his hand, his strong fingers wrap around yours, oh god he’s so warm, “I-I don’t want to bother you.”

“Now, I’ll have none ‘a that, come on,” he helps you stand steadying you with an arm around your waist, the adrenaline of being this close to him makes a bit of the pain fade, though the humiliation remains. 

He slowly leads you up his walkway, his hand lays splayed against your hip holding you tight. Your head rests against him close enough to feel the dampness of his sweaty shirt against your cheek.

He leads you into his house, the realization isn’t lost on you that this is now the second time you’ve been inside his home. Both times you’ve felt like an idiot. What is your luck?

You slowly sit down on his couch, Joel gently helps you settle against the cushions before placing a pillow behind your back for support. "You alright?” he asks, his voice drags heavily with concern. You nod, keeping your eyes focused on your bare legs, marred by dirt and gravel mixed with blood. “Just relax for a second, I’ll go grab everything." He retreats, his loud boot steps get fainter allowing you to take a deep breath and attempt to center yourself. 

The last time you were in Joel’s home you were far too anxious to focus on anything besides Ellie and the music coming out of the stereo. Solitude now allows a chance to look closely at Joel’s living room; for somebody with so many stories swirling around town about his gruffness and irritability, his home sure is warm and inviting. Wood carvings sit on shelves, a couple of tattered sports magazines lay on the coffee table, a chipped owl mug sits atop a book on the side table next to a chair. All of it presents quite domestic and comfortable for a single man and an adopted daughter in the apocalypse. Your eyes roam along the beige walls and pause when you spot a familiar painting hung near the front window. An elk stands alone, amongst a field of flowers, large antlers reach into the light blue sky. You painted it just a few months ago, using your favorite water colors. You gave it to Tommy for Christmas, as a thank you for always making sure you have first dibs of paints that patrollers bring in. Why does Joel have it?

“Don’t have any large bandages but I got a gauze roll,” Joel startles as he takes a seat atop the coffee table across from you. 

“That’s my painting? I painted that… for Tommy,” your inner thoughts escape your mouth, surprising you.

He turns and follows your eyes to the small piece of paper pinned on his wall. “You painted that? S’good. Saw it on my brother’s wall and asked him if I could have it, he was kinda reluctant but I told him how it reminds me of the painting I used to have over my bed before… everything.” The last word comes out as a huff, like he still doesn't know what word to use for these last twenty years.

“I love elks, they remind me of where I’m from… I’ve always liked painting the wildlife I grew up around the most,” your eyes remain focused on your painting. “Herds of elk used to live near my Dad’s home in the mountains, I used to hear their calls during the mating season.” 

“S’nice to remember those small moments, I guess your painting helps me,” he gently muses. 

“I’m glad,” you whisper.

Joel delicately lifts your leg up and places it on his lap, resting it against the soft strength of his thighs. Your heart feels like it’s going to burst out of your chest when you look down at this intimate moment with your dream man. Your breaths escape your mouth in rapid succession, your only hope is Joel blames your panic on the threat of the peroxide and not his close proximity. 

“S’gonna sting,” he warns before pouring the clear liquid onto your knee. Your breath catches in your throat when it hits your sensitive skin and burns. You suppress a whimper and feel slightly dizzy at the sight of him bending forward and delicately blowing on your wound. His breath cools the heat of your burning skin but lights a fire inside of your body you haven’t felt in years.  He glances up, his dark brown eyes stay focused on your face. “Doin’ alright?” 

You nervously chew on your bottom lip and nod. “Y-yes, yeah,” you mumble, “I-I’m okay it just hurts a lot to move.” Heaven forbid you tell him the truth, that you’re acting this way because he’s the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen, and now his hands are on you.

"I know, that gravel is a sucker," he gently reassures, picking up your other leg and placing it on top of his lap. “S’bouta sting again,” he warns. 

You try to focus on the burn of the peroxide and not on Joel’s fingertips resting against the back of your knee. He blows on the peroxide as it bubbles again, your heart skips a beat when his deep brown eyes meet yours again. You get the sense that he knows exactly why you’re responding the way you are. 

He lifts a faded gray wash cloth up and wipes both of your knees with the utmost tenderness. He picks up the fabric bandage, and lifts your knee higher to rest your foot against his broad chest. 

“Place a finger here so I can wrap you,” Joel directs just as gently as his touch, “let me know if it’s too stiff for you.” His hand tightens around your knee as he slowly unravels the gauze around your leg and bandages your wound. “How’s that?” 

You bend your leg back and forth and place it on the floor. “Feels good, thanks.”

“Course,” he says, lifting your other leg higher to start. He smirks when you place your finger on top of the bandage without him asking, and begins to wrap the gauze around your other leg. 

“I’d try to take it easy the next few days, give you a chance to heal,” Joel utters, tucking the bandage in and smoothing it down. 

“I will. Thanks for all your help… you really didn’t have to,” your voice cracks in embarrassment. 

“You don’t have to thank me, Ellie’d kill me if she found out I left you hurt in front of my home,” he cracks a smile at the mention of her name. “She talks about you a lot, I should be thanking you for giving her a reason to love goin’ to school.”

“She’s one of the best parts of my day,” your smile matches his when you think about her smart mouth, “I love having her around, she’s always so eager to learn and give her opinion."

“She's always showing me some new art way she learned from you or talking about a band she wants to hear that you told her about. You mean a lot to her.”

“She’s a special kid.”

“She is,” he says, his deep brown eyes look into yours. You’ve never noticed just how much his dark eyes glisten. Like the perfect color of black coffee. 

The sweet shared moment turns more awkward as you both maintain eye contact and nod over your shared adoration of Ellie. It feels like he’s looking at you under a microscope.

You cut the tension and softly clear your throat before slowly rising from the couch. “Well, I should get going, I’ve already taken up enough of your time. I really appreciate everything.”

“S’no problem at all,” he quickly stands and places a steadying hand on your back before leading you to the door and down his walkway.

You spy his tools laying abandoned and strewn across the lawn. “I hope I didn’t keep you from finishing your fence,” you apologize.

“I’ll manage… take care of yourself,” his hand retreats from your back when he opens the gate for you. 

“Thanks Joel, you too.” You really shouldn’t have looked back at him to get one last glimpse, he’s beautiful, especially now lit by the slowly setting sun. 

Walking away from him as confidently as you can, you feel his eyes follow you the whole way. You’ve never been so thankful to see your little cottage, escaping behind the protection of your front door before you grin and grab your paints and brushes. That night you paint another photo of an elk, this time with golden toned fur and deep brown eyes. 

Saturday mornings are always busy, running your library never allows you the luxury to eat pancakes at the hall like everyone else on the weekends. You’re always turning to the left rushing towards the schoolhouse while everyone takes a right heading to eggs, pancakes, and coffee. This particular Saturday you’re moving slower thanks to your injured knees and the large box of books patrol brought you from their runs. 

“Mornin’," Joel shouts, quickly striding towards you from the hall exit. “Lemme take those for you.” 

“Oh, hi,” you pause in your tracks when he stops in front of you and grabs the box out of your hands. “You really don’t have to take–"

“None ‘a that,” he shushes, effortlessly lifting the box of books higher. "Where are we going with these?"

"Just over to the school house for the library," you nod your head towards the little brick building.

“How are the knees doing?” he asks, slowing his gait to match your slower pace.

“A lot better, thanks.”

“Glad to hear.” 

You fish the key out of your pocket, unlock the door, and let Joel follow you down the hallway to your classroom. You flick the lights on, fluorescent bulbs buzz illuminating your second home. 

You sit in your chair to rest your already aching knees, you’d still be halfway to the schoolhouse if it wasn’t for Joel’s kind assistance. 

“You can put the box on my desk,” you direct, rubbing your sore knee. 

He places the box on your desk before his eyes focus on the bright mural on the wall behind your desk. “Wow, I haven’t seen something like this in a long time. S’beautiful,” he breathes out incredulously. 

A grin lifts your tired face before you swivel in your chair to look at the mural. “Goodness, thank you. I just finished it a couple of weeks ago. I really wanted to make sure the kids had something fun and colorful to focus on while in class. It was hard for me to work in this plain, white room for so long. It took a long time to save up enough paint.” 

He slowly walks over and places his hand on the cold cinder block wall. “Bluebells. The flower of Texas,” he faintly whispers.

His large fingers trace the outlines of your painted indigo petals, you feel like you shouldn’t be allowed to see this type of gentle tenderness coming out of such hard and strong hands. He delicately touched you like this when he bandaged your knees. There was once softness surrounding all of Joel, the permanent grimace and rough reputation for him brought on by the harshness of existing in this world. 

He turns to you, keeping his hand on your mural. “Where you from?” he asks, curiously gazing into your eyes.

“I was in the Denver QZ.”

“No, where were you from before everything?”

“Oh, sorry. Still Colorado, just more in the mountains,” you say, concentrating on the columbine flower next to the bluebell. “Florissant to be exact. It’s a little town famous for dinosaurs. My students, especially Ellie, love to hear all about dinosaurs. I was very lucky to be where I was when everything–happened–just far enough to escape.”

“Nice state, I went skiing there once as a teen, had plans to go again before… everything,” he turns to look back at the bluebells again.

“Big of a Texan to compliment Colorado,” you jest, standing up and grabbing the library supplies from your desk.

He chuckles with a shake of his head. “Good one. Did y’know you forgot your CD at my house?” 

“I did, sorry about that. I figured Ellie just decided to keep it for herself. I don't mind, not like I have anything to play it on right now,” your voice drops thinking about how long it’s been since you’ve heard your favorite songs.

You begin to place down your hand painted placards on the tables. 

He walks over and picks one of the cards up and admires it. “Can I help you?”

“If you want, just pick up a pile of books and put them on their respective tables. Children’s, Mystery, Romance, Non-Fiction, Sci-Fi, Miscellaneous.” 

He dutifully picks up a stack of books. “You do this by yourself?”

“Usually, I sometimes have help but I think everyone here works so hard during the week they like their slow Saturdays, I can’t ask them to give up sleeping in.” 

“Sleeping in, must be nice. Can’t do such a thing. Ellie would sleep all day if I allowed her.”

“You’re right,” you say, squeezing by him to grab a pile of books. “Must be nice.”

He holds up a thick paperback with yellow pages and a burgundy cover, a muscled, orange toned man with long blonde hair holds a wispy brunette damsel. “I take it with a title like ‘Burning Tenderness’ it goes in romance?” Joel winks. You’d never imagine you would ever see someone like him joke.  

“Well, I’d fire you on the spot if you placed it in non-fiction.”

His bellowing laugh echoes across your classroom. You like hearing him laugh. 

The library is set up a half hour before opening thanks to yours and Joel’s expeditious work.

You take a seat on the edge of your desk to rest your knees.  “I’ve never gotten done this early before. Between your help earlier this week and today I feel like I owe you something. Is there any way I could repay you for your kindness?” 

He sighs, glancing back at your mural. “Those bluebells you painted,” he inhales a large breath, “do you think you could paint some of those for me in my house?” 

“Oh my, I’d love to,” your face lights with a smile. You can’t believe he’s asking this of you. “I can start it anytime.”

“D’you want to come over Monday after you’re done at the school? I told Ellie I’d spend the day with her tomorrow.” 

“That sounds great,” you reply, not believing your luck that Joel Miller is inviting you over to his house.

“Great. Should probably head out and start my day. Taking this as payment for my work today,” he says holding up a book.

“‘As I Lay Dying?’ Didn’t pin you as a Faulkner fan,” you muse, opening your logbook to note the title down.

“Liked the horse on the cover.” 

“You’re so Texas. It’s a good book, enjoy it Joel.”

“See you Monday. Good luck today.” 

“Yes, Monday,” you respond, trying not to smile too hard. “Thanks again for all your help.”

“Course,” he nods before walking out the door. 

Today’s going to be a great day, it already started out better than you ever could have hoped.

Back home after a busy day you sit in your favorite chair with your cats on your lap and sketch bluebells until you fall asleep with your pencil in hand.

See The Road You're On (Joel's Version)

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Cod Characters General Dating Headcanons (part two)

+ Random and Some bits of Chubby Fem S/O Headcanons with mentions of different nationality S/O

+ What type of BF/GF they would be

Including Valeria Garza, Farah Karim, Kate Laswell, Alex Keller, Gary "Roach" Sanderson, Nikolai Belinski

+ Some Poly! Farah x Reader x Alex Headcanons

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Fem terms and pronouns like she/her are used for the reader

ꕥ HOPE YOU ENJOY! ꕥ

My rules for requests and characters I can write for

Please comment if you want to be added to the taglist, the next part or cod content alone. I also have content for TLOU and Resident Evil, so please specify.

Taglist: @marshmallowinamess

A/n: Hi lovelies! It's me again Lia, currently working on this one while I haven't even posted the other yet because I wanna post early and I love Valeria. Y'all don't got shit on me, I'm writing this shit while I'm in class AHAHAHA. Btw more Resident Evil content soon...

Disclaimers/warnings: Typical Cod things, OOC characters???, Unrealistic, Some suggestive themes and language, I'm so sorry but English is not my first language so please don't come after me. Most of the content I've seen are on TikTok and Tumblr I don't actually play the game but I love the characters so much, same with any other content I have for other video games.

Tiny sidenote: the reader in this has been describe to be shorter than the characters and has been mentioned to have a soft body rather than the muscular type.

Valeria Garza

ꕥ (Just saying, I'd let her step all over me)

ꕥ The El Sinombre falling in love? No shit she's... semi-normal??

ꕥ Black cat/Doberman girlfriend for sure. She's extremely protective and extremely terrifying when she wants to be. Scary dog privilege if you get it. (Occasionally it's funny to imagine her as a Chihuahua)

ꕥ Dates all kinds of women, body type and other things don't matter to her because she doesn't have a type. If you catch her attention then that's that.

ꕥ Loves spoiling you in everyway possible, just sit pretty for her and she'll take care of everything. Doesn't give a shit on the amount of money she spends on you, you want it? You got it.

ꕥ Loves it when you need her, it's one of the ways she feels loved and appreciated. Would never say it out loud but loves it whenever you show her your appreciation by doing manual labor.

ꕥ The idea of you being her pretty little housewife is sending her to heaven.

ꕥ Spanish pet names galore, culture is something of importance to her so will definitely teach you Spanish if she had the time.

ꕥ Would be interested learning about your culture as well because if you're gonna know about hers then she ought to know what to call you in your language. (Definitely not self-indulgent because I'm Filipina and I know she'd pronounce it somewhat correctly)

ꕥ Doesn't ever let you know about her cartel business. You can never know and she will never allow you to get ever get involved. You're too precious to her and god forbid anything will happen to you, she will destroy the world if she had to.

ꕥ She's more of a masc lesbian, she's the type who likes to be in charge in a "I'm the one who wears the pants in the relationship" way. She's very dominant.

ꕥ Doesn't ever even consider to be submissive, with the amount of shit she's been through. She can be vulnerable with you but in no way, shape or form could you ever top.

ꕥ You're an escape from the life she knew, it was peaceful with you. At first she wasn't used to it, definitely has reoccurring thoughts of something going wrong. You dying, getting kidnapped, falling into the hands of her enemies so constant reassurance.

ꕥ Would absolutely kill for you, no hesitation. The literally definitely of "I would burn this world for you", would absolutely deny it but you know otherwise.

Farah Karim

ꕥ Tabby cat coded girlfriend, she's down to earth and chill. She's that one neutral person everyone adores, she puts her best efforts into a relationship for sure.

ꕥ Has and will help you do your make-up all the time, doesn't matter whether you asked. She'll observe the specific way you do it and do it perfectly.

ꕥ Sweetest girlfriend ever, she has dominance tendencies but it's mainly because she's quite assertive and often makes the decisions. Can't help it, after all her field of work requires her to one up egotistic men.

ꕥ That being said, I think she's had some mild PTSD about how they treated her. Sure it made her tough and she didn't like to be bossed around (unlike angry Mexican man) but I like to think she keeps you out of it as much as possible.

ꕥ Chubby!Reader headcanon is that she literally would adore you, compliment anything and everything. Insecure? Not on her watch, she just makes you feel so loved.

ꕥ Most definitely has introduced you to Price (I feel like he's everyone's father figure except los vaqueros and characters he hasn't interacted with) and don't worry he's already looking after you as well.

ꕥ Poly! Farah x reader x Alex headcanons:

ꕥ You guys following whatever Farah says, towards relationship decisions anyway because you and Alex tend to be indecisive.

ꕥ Lot's of communication between the three of you even if it's just a small thing, consent is always key.

ꕥ Alex following his two wives around a lot, he's mostly behind you guys all the time.

ꕥ Farah is patient when it comes to a lot of things but especially you and Alex.

ꕥ You get head pats from both of them, Farah is in a more praising manner while Alex tends to be in a comforting manner.

ꕥ You cannot tell me these two won't be down to cuddle in any position because I know damn well they would be. More often it's just Alex wanting to be a little spoon.

Alex Keller

ꕥ Golden Retriever boyfriend FOR REAL. This man is the type of man to kneel down and clasp the strap of your shoe or heel when he notices it.

ꕥ You know when you pick up something near a corner of a table or underneath it? He's the type of boyfriend to subconsciously cover the edge or corner of that table so that if your head bumps into it then it wouldn't be as painful or even at all.

ꕥ Having said the first one, he also guides your head whenever getting into a vehicle because god forbid you actually hurt yourself. Not on his watch.

ꕥ Understands why you're insecure and definitely offers a lot of verbal reassurance.

ꕥ Is the type of boyfriend to say "Yes Ma'am" when you ask him to do something, doesn't matter whether it's a small thing or labor intensive. It's kinda become your guys' thing now since people take notice on it.

ꕥ Pouty kind of jealous? Not necessarily whiny but makes this sad upset face at you when jealous instead of something like Ghost or Valeria would do where they'd be glaring the person down jealous.

ꕥ Very thoughtful, he pays attention to what you want and what you need and knows the right timing.

ꕥ Forehead kiss giver, you cannot convince me this man doesn't love doing it. Especially when you're shorter than him, loves resting his chin on top of your head or burying his head in your neck.

ꕥ HATES seeing you uncomfortable, absolutely despises it. That's the last thing he wants you to feel when you're around him. Would understand if there's imminent danger around but it would literally being him back to life if you felt safe enough around him even if there was danger because you're confident in his capabilities to keep you safe.

Kate Laswell

ꕥ (LOVE THIS WOMAN, SHE'S FOR THE GIRLS BECAUSE IT'S CANON. ARGUE WITH THE WALL)

ꕥ She only ever let the TF141 and Nikolai meet you because of course she trusts them enough.

ꕥ They were like "So you're the infamous wife of Laswell huh?"

ꕥ Even before you were married, Kate called you her wife because she was ✨manifesting✨.

ꕥ She loves using it though, sometimes she'd be with coworkers and they'd invited her to go out to pub and drink but she'll refuse saying "Can't, my wife is waiting for me". She'd really rather just spend time with you anyway.

ꕥ Congrats, you made her quit smoking or at least she's trying to. She still does every once and a while when shit gets really bad but never around you because she knows that secondhand smoke is just as bad for you.

ꕥ She doesn't have a type when it comes to people so body is out of the question, if she feels a connection then she feels it.

ꕥ Anything and everything to keep you safe, if something were to happen to you, trust that she'll either get it down herself or if she can't then she'll turn to Price and Belinski for help.

ꕥ As much as possible, she keeps you away from everything. The job she has is just too dangerous and she can't risk you, not when you're one of the only good things in her life that keeps her happy.

ꕥ Definitely a workaholic, something as simple as asking her to eat or rest, maybe take a break. She'll do it, for you and because she knows you care for her.

ꕥ Doesn't half-ass anything, full effort when it comes to you especially when there's a special occasion between you two like holidays, birthdays and anniversaries.

ꕥ Also she loves making you laugh, more often with stories of her experiences with Price and also about how they met.

Gary "Roach" Sanderson

ꕥ (I CANNOT FIND A DECENT GIF OF THIS MAN FOR THE LIFE OF ME... Here's the credits to where I found the photo)

ꕥ Get this man a makeshift antenna, he would adore it. You made it for him because of his call sign.

ꕥ He sometimes wears it on missions but mostly keeps it so that it doesn't get damage because this man is definitely a horder, not in a bad way just anything you give to him is something worth keeping in his eyes.

ꕥ Gary definitely gives you handmade gifts back, when he knows you'll like something or even if it's at a random, he loves making them for you and he cried when he found out you kept those all in it's own box labeling it your treasures.

ꕥ Very shy and reluctant at first but once he's comfortable, he is tackling you for a hug when he gets the chance.

ꕥ Doesn't talk a lot, (it took me to Google when I saw that many people hc him communicating through BSL) but I like to think he does talk. It's just really selective, like a few words.

ꕥ The first time you heard his voice, you looked at him like "???". He looked at you confused at your reaction and he only realized it when you told him.

ꕥ Think that he'll try to learn sign language within your mother tongue you know, it's too cute not to think about.

ꕥ He gives off soft lover vibes, definitely far more on the gentle side compared to his comrades.

ꕥ Something in me tells me this man rambles but only and I mean only when he's already extremely comfortable around you, not used to using his voice much so expect a bit of stutter. Which by the way, he does this without knowing he's rambling and will profusely apologize with his tone of voice slowly getting more quiet. (This is your sign, comfort this man)

ꕥ Likes to crawl around and climb things for fun, another one of the reasons his call sign was formed. The first time Ghost genuinely screamed was when Roach was stuck on the side of the wall and Ghost saw him there. Kinda like when you see a roach climbing up a wall and it flies straight for you in your direction. (Happened to me by experience when I was taking a shower)

ꕥ He also likes crawling around, like this I mean. Hacker!Reader seeing this on the enemy's security camera while she tries to shut them off is just funny to me idk why.

ꕥ Chubby!Reader? Sign him the fuck up. You once sat down near him and he saw how you thought spread a bit and it was so close to his that he was just resisting the urge to touch. The voice in his head shamelessly thinking of what it would be like if you suffocated him with them.

ꕥ He loves peppering kisses, doesn't matter whether it's receiving or giving this man would straight up take your hands and use them to cup his face, his hands still being over yours and would with wait for you to kiss him or kiss you himself.

Nikolai Belinski

ꕥ (I have no clue how to write for nik but I'll try my best)

ꕥ We all know him and his jokes about his "wives" which by the way is not true and you know it.

ꕥ He's husband material however he is quite busy, not that he'd barely spend time with you but he is away a lot. There's an upside to this, he constantly calls you (Let's be real, he prefers calls over texts) just to check on how you're doing and he tells you when he's going to come home.

ꕥ Despite all his jokes, he'd never actually make fun of you. Sure he's sarcastic and talks to himself a lot but he'd never go as low as actually making an offensive joke to his lover.

ꕥ Speaking of joking, your laugh is music to this man's ears. Don't matter if you sound like a dying cat, he's still gonna make you laugh.

ꕥ Surprisingly really sweet, people are often surprised to see that man with a lover. He's very thoughtful in a sense that he's observant, sure he's quite absentminded when around you because that's the only space he's comfortable enough to do so but also because he likes listening to you.

ꕥ Does every safety measure in a helicopter possible if he knew you or Gaz would be in that helicopter, he also makes improvements to it and calls it Gaz-proofing because we all know how Garrick fell off a damn helicopter TWICE. (Idk how he does it, Gaz has some serious plot armor)

[croquis-el]

Chihiro (Mia Fey) did not try to insult or belittle Naruhodo (Phoenix Wright) in 3-1

Now that I have your attention, I'll explain

I don't know why the localization decided to make Chihiro a toxic lady, but in the original, she acts completely differently.

Yes, she still cringes at the mention of "heavenly love" from Hodō and acts very nervous, but she doesn't drip sarcasm like in the English version. For me, her words were quite cruel and unpleasant.

I think in the localization she meant the most offensive nickname for boys (honestly, I'm shocked that such a thing exists). I won't write it here, I hope you understand me. In the original, she's just disappointed that he deceived her.

こ、コラコラ! 依頼人を泣かせてどうするんぢゃ!

ko, korakora! Irai hito o naka sete dō suru n dji ~ya!

Hey, hey! What are you trying to do by making your client cry?

いいんですっ!

ī ndesu ~tsu!

It's okay!

わ……私……信じていたのに! なるほどさんのコト････

wa… … watashi… … shinjite ita no ni!Naruhodo-san no koto

I... I... believed in him! Naruhodo-san...

___________________________________________

あの････なるほどくんの、 どこにキュンっと来たのですか?

ano... naruhodo-kun no, dokoni kyun tto kita nodesu ka?

Um... What was it about Naruhodo-kun that made you fall in love with him?

“ただのカゼひきニイさん”....

個人的には、そんな感じですけど。

“tadano kazehiki Nī-san”.... Kojin-teki ni wa, son'na kanjidesukedo.

"Ordinary brother with a cold"....

That's how I personally feel.

････でも、半年前のリュウちゃんは とっても、お元気そうでしたわ。

demo, hantoshi mae no Ryū-chan wa tottemo, o genki-sō de shita wa.

...But Ryu-chan looked very healthy six months ago.

カゼひきですらなければ、 それこそ“ただのニイさん”…………

kaze hikidesu ra nakereba, sore koso ��tadano Nī-san”…

If he hadn't caught a cold, he would have been "ordinary brother"...

カゼひき (kazehiki) - catching a cold, person with a cold

ただ (tada) - ordinary, common, usual

She doesn't call him a "typical snotty-nosed college brat", implying that there's nothing good about him.

She doesn't touch rest of the planet, comparing Hodo to "a dime a dozen".

In the original, Chihiro calls him an "ordinary little brother", hinting at the younger brother figure who you want to pity, plus who also has a cold (+ to care). Yes, Chihiro doesn't see Hodo as a strong person (yet; and she doesn't need to), but at least she doesn't humiliate him. Chihiro even starts addressing him as Naruhodo-kun instead of Naruhodo-san..

___________________________________________

なるほどくん････あなたは、 考えたことがあるかしら。

naruhodo-kun anata wa, kangaeta koto ga aru kashira.

Naruhodo-kun... have you ever thought about it?

美柳ちなみが、“なぜ” あなたとつきあっているか?

Miyanagi Chinami ga, “naze” anata to tsukiatte iru ka?

"Why" is Chinami Miyanagi dating you?

そ、それは･･･モチロン、 ボクにクビったけ････

so, soreha mochiron, boku ni kubittake

That's... of course, she's madly in love with me...

(なるほどくん････おねがい! もう、目をさまして････)

(naruhodo-kun onegai! Mō,-me o samashite)

(Naruhodo-kun... please! Wake up already...)

････審理がここまで来れば、 だれでもわかることなのよ。

shinri ga koko made kureba, dare demo wakaru kotona no yo.

...If the trial has come this far, anyone can see that.

She doesn't say "a woman like her", doesn't put a negative spin on the comparison. There's no sense of a lofty "her" and a pathetic "you".

Chihiro asks the question, focusing on the reason for their union (the bottle pendant around his neck), without any hint that they are as different as heaven and earth.

It's no wonder that people have completely different impressions of characters; a few extra words are enough for someone to appear to us in a different light.

I probably ruined Chihiro's image for some people, but that's a fact.

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Anna Magnani (Rome Open City, Mamma Roma, The Rose Tattoo)—don't take my word for it, here are some of the things she was called during her career: "la lupa (the wolf) of Italian cinema," "passionate, fearless, and exciting," "the volcanic earth mother of all Italian cinema," "one of the most impressive actresses since Garbo," "Whenever Magnani laughs or cries (which is often), it's as if you've never seen anyone laugh or cry before: has laughter ever been so burstingly joyful or tears so shatteringly sad?" and maybe best of all, from Tennessee Williams, who wrote multiple roles specifically for her: "She is simply a rare being who seems to have about her a little lightning-shot cloud all her own...In a crowded room, she can sit perfectly motionless and silent and still you feel the atmospheric tension of her presence, its quiver and hum in the air like a live wire exposed, and a mood of Anna's is like the presence of royalty."

Rosemary Clooney (White Christmas)—Rosemary!!! Her singing voice is incredible, she looks stunning in everything she wears, she has this quiet gravitas on screen that I haven’t seen anywhere else!! She deserves to be known as a lot more than George Clooney’s Aunt (if anything, I think of him as Rosemary Clooney’s nephew who also went into the business). Also when she got older she had this amazing sexy raspy voice (which sadly was due to smoking a lot but doesn’t take away from the fact that it’s very very sexy)

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Anna Magnani:

An icon of post-war neorealist italian cinema - an unbelievably good actress. Also, the first non-english speaking actress to win the Oscar for Best Actress (in 1956)!

realness!! amid the typical hollywood pristine glamour anna magnani stuck out as sexy in a really real, grounded way. so much so that even shallow 40s hollywood allowed her to come over from italy to be in some high profile movies. an icon

She smoked, she drank, she didn't give a f-. Her acting was described as explosive, with a lot of emotions and drama and they called her a she-wolf. Playwright Tennessee Williams became an admirer of her acting and wrote The Rose Tattoo (1955) specifically for her to star in, a role for which she received an Academy Award for Best Actress, becoming the first Italian – and first non-English speaking woman – to win an Oscar.

Rosemary:

Rosemary Clooney made very few movies, and built her career mostly as a singer--however, anyone who has ever seen her in White Christmas understands that this was Hollywood's loss, because she exudes glamour and charm and does a wonderful job acting it as well. She's gorgeous, she has a beautiful voice, she has one of those faces that the screen just loves, and she is, frankly, hot as hell.

An absolutely amazing singer and so stunning. Her performance in that black dress in White Christmas just takes my breath away every time. She's also George Clooney's aunt.

She was a very cool woman, who had a very hard life. She had severe mental health struggles throughout her life and left the stage for quite a while, but fought hard to make her career comeback later in life with a little timely help from good friend and frequent collaborator Bing Crosby. She also duetted with Marlene Dietrich early in her career

Okay so obviously she's more a singer than an actress, but she was still one of the best musical actresses of the era! They just didn't know what to do with her. She really wasn't a dancer at all, so you'll see most of the numbers in White Christmas she's got a convenient prop to sweep around. However, this ~weakness brought about a love story for the ages! Dante Di Paulo (you may know him as the mustachioed townie rival to the Pontipees in Seven Brides for Seven Brothers) was hired to teach her to dance and they fell in love over rehearsals. Separated by filming schedules, Rosemary ended up marrying José Ferrer and breaking Dante's heart, but 20 years and two divorces from José later they met in traffic. Not about to miss her second chance, she honked her horn and yelled her phone number at him (talk about carpe diem). He moved in a couple of months later but they finally made it official in 1997 because "our grandchildren want us to get married". They were utterly devoted to each other and he was very much a Wife Guy.

when she. when she. 'love you didnt do right by me' from white christmas-

She was very funny and very civic-minded, she campaigned with RFK during his presidential run. She had a very close bond with her nephew (that George Clooney yes), he even had her songs on the playlist when he proposed to his wife! She didn't enjoy singing this song from White Christmas, as it wasn't quite in her range, but she's incredibly powerful and undoubtedly very hot in this scene (fun fact, oscar winner George Chakiris is one of her dancers here, before his big break!) -

[like-a-omen]

Best friend! Folio

@darling-millicent-aubrey @alloraiona @english-fucker @pathion @foliosgirl @livingdeceasedgirl

18+ below the cut minors DNI

Best friend folio would definitely drag you along on fishing trips to keep him company. When it's quiet between bites he's pulled you close under the blanket rubbing slow circles on your clit, you know later when he calls it a night he's going to fuck you in the tent as his way of saying thank you for coming with him. Without warning he picks up the pace catching you off guard as a loud moan escaped you causing him to smirk at your reaction, now pulling you in for a sloppy kiss as his fingers entered you to muffle your moans you feel that familiar knot building. Your close and he knows it the way your grinding your hips into his hand tells him all he needs to know, a sudden beeping of the bite alarm pulls you back to earth and folio away from you to start reeling in the fish "sorry babe got a bite!" In that moment all you could think was fuck that fish.

Best friend folio setting up a nice little smoke session for just the two of you after hearing how rough your day at work had been, ever seen your text he's been snack shopping and pre rolling preparing for your evening. You finally arrive at his and are greeted with a big bear hug before leading you to the sofa the coffee table laid out with everything you guys will need, as you both lay there cuddled up joint passing between you both you slowly felt the stress from today melt away. Folio laid there stroking your hair and you couldn't help but smile thinking how did you get so lucky to have such a caring best friend, it was always that boys mission to make you smile and he was pretty damn good at it.

Best friend folio would 100% take any opportunity to make you laugh watching you light up like that always brightens his day, plus he thinks your laugh is just adorable he'd make it your personal ringtone if you let him. Even in the bedroom he will try to make you laugh the way it makes you clench around him puts that boy on cloud nine, thrusting into you while he's making you laugh just gives your boobs that exta bounce that he just loves.

Best friend folio would love it when you ask to go out on his bike with him, you was cruising along with no real destination but that's what made it even better you'd always find the most stunning locations. You watched the world go by arms wrapped round him tight just getting lost in the scenery it was a great way to clear your head, folio had offered plenty of times to help you learn so you could ride together and as much as you loved that idea you'd miss admiring the views. Typically you'd stop by some lake he finds before heading back, but you didn't mind you loved watching him get all excited scoping out a new potential fishing spot.

Best friend folio noticed your gaze fixated on his arms as he was practicing a new drum solo, he just knew your mind was going to some very dirty places. "Hey Y/N can you chuck the towel?" No answer "Earth to Y/N?" He snapped his fingers a few times dragging you out of your fantasy, you felt a blush creep across your face realising you'd been caught but also not having a clue what he just asked you. "Umm I thought it was great.. looked really technical" he laughed before heading over to grab the towel himself wiping away the sweat, you couldn't help but bite your lip as you watched. "Bit distracted are we? Wanna tell me what we was up to or do you wanna act it out? " That's how you ended up bent over his drum stool, the grip he had on your hips was definitely going to leave bruises but you didn't care.

Best friend folio wouldn't admit it but he'd definitely get jealous if other guys were chatting you up at a party, he could tell that they only intended to use you for the night and you just didn't deserve that. He watched this guy like a hawk and just didn't like the vibes he was giving off, so once he left he decides to save you from a night of disappointment. "Hey Y/N this party is a bit lame wanna come back to mine and have a smoke?" Shortly after you both was in a uber on the way to folios the guy that was flirting with you wasn't that interesting anyway, besides he probably couldn't fuck you better than your best friend. Folio definitely made sure it wasn't a disappointing night you started to wonder if come round for a smoke was just code for sex, because here you are getting absolutely railed into next week by your best friend.

Hope you like it! I really enjoyed writing this one so expect some more best friend folio in the future 😉

[floatingcatacombs]

Anaheim Gals Being Anaheim Pals

12 Days of Aniblogging 2024, Day 2

Zeta Gundam has a real lurching, strange start by design. In the time between the One Year War and the Gryps Conflict, things have gone terribly! Not only did a good amount of Zeon’s forces escape to the asteroid belt and start rebuilding, the Earth Federation is getting taken over from within by the ruthless Titans. But wait, the Titans are still feddies at the end of the day, so why are they the ones piloting Hizacks and other Zeon-style designs at the start of the show?

The answer to this is brilliant and sadly relegated to a narrative footnote. You see, after the One Year War, Zeonic’s personnel and blueprints got absorbed into Gundam manufacturer Anaheim Electronics, as part of an Operation Paperclip-style deal. This leaves Anaheim's mobile suit aesthetics during the interwar period a total hodgepodge, iterating on both GM and Zaku style designs while also moving forward with plenty of secret prototype successors to the RX-78 Gundam. Maybe it’s just the OL in me, but this particular era and company really pique my interest! The culture shock and office politics that would follow from Anaheim folding in the engineers from the other side of the last war, the competition between rival design teams, the back-channel deals of an arms manufacturer now compelled to play both sides…

I’d been told that the Gundam OVA entitled Stardust Memory was vaguely about this, but I’d also been told that Stardust Memory was terrible and just plain not worth watching, so I steered away from it. Instead, my prayers were answered in the form of a lovely 2009 yuri doujin visual novel called Anaheim Girl’s Love Story.

I don't feel like cropping the screenshots, so peep my VM setup. it'll add to the vibe

First things first, I would like to simply acknowledge the joy of being alive, and alive at this exact moment in time. It is so wonderful that a group of dedicated fans made a complete visual novel starring lesbian office workers at the Mecha War Crime Engineering Company. And not only did they realize this dream in the first place, a separate group translated the script into English in 2013, and then another team reverse-engineered the game’s engine and released a patch in 2020 so that now the translation can be experienced in its original format. Each and every one of you is a true yuri warrior.

Anaheim Girl’s Love Story is a passion project through and through, extrapolating from all the bits and pieces of lore we get about Anaheim Electronics across various shows and crafting a believable setting, while still making it feel like a Gundam story on some level. It’s also fully voice acted? I don’t know what typical doujin VN production values were like in 2009, but still, color me impressed. We play as Rinne, a new recruit to Anaheim and a mecha otaku through and through. She loves these mobile suits, just like you and me! And she wants nothing more than to work for the company who invented the Gundam. Anaheim is a tech company through and through – most of the workers on the ground really believe in what they’re doing and put their whole heart into it, even as their leadership takes on increasingly shady and secretive contracts. But it’s also implied, in the VN and in the Gundam shows, that the company is staffed by mostly women. Great! I really do like when a setting asserts that being invested in mecha is primarily something that women do. After all, girls were the ones that kept 0079 popular in the first place according to Tomino.

All of the Anaheim girls have pale blue double-breasted suit jackets and long pencil skirts, culminating in an extremely 80’s look. AGLS also covers its blurry background photos with a dark blue filter, resulting in a fairly monochrome game where the character expressions really pop out from everything else. The mecha CGs are surprisingly well done, even if they suffer a bit from 2000’s shading syndrome, when everyone went a little too hard on the airbrush. The character portraits holds up a lot better in comparison. All of this to say that the presentation is fairly minimal, as they were clearly working with limited resources, but it gets the job done.

Rinne likes milk tea and is equal amounts excited and anxious about her job. This is the sort of milquetoast relatable protagonist traits you’d find in any dating sim, so the fun twist here is that when she’s feeling down about her work, she’ll go to the hanger where an RX-78 (the RX-78? It’s left unclear) is being stored and start talking to it. Rubber-ducking your mobile suit designs with an actual mobile suit is cute!! Things unfold as you’d expect, with Rinne befriending her hacker kouhai, starting a rivalry with the office villainess, and getting intimidated by her boss Sophie. It’s nothing revolutionary, but that’s fine, because the setting alone does a ton of the lifting. While no named characters from any official Gundam series appear, they’re namedropped ever so occasionally, and there’s plenty of cameos and lore sprinkled about for a Universal Centuryhead to lap up.

Of course, Rinne invites her boss over for dinner a bunch and discovers her soft and vulnerable side, and the two of them engage in a slowburn office situationship while trying to also trying to win the Gundam Development Project, an internal competition to develop next-generation experimental mobile suits. And wouldn’t you know it, office politics are afoot. She’s been keeping it from Rinne, but Sophie was originally an engineer from Zeonic. Trust issues ensue, as do complicated feelings about being in love with someone who designed the weapons that nearly killed you. The leadership of Anaheim has a clear bias towards Federation-style suits, and still views the Zeonic hires with scorn and suspicion, even if they bring useful perspectives in design philosophy. Sophie wants to design every part with cost and performance in mind! That’s what enabled the Zakus, after all. But if we skip ahead and look at the results, the end goal of this intra-office competition seems to have been extravagance bordering on wastefulness. Rinne and Sophie’s team produce a fairly standard but combat-versatile Gundam, while the other teams contributed a hyper-flexible Gundam, a hilariously overinflated mobile armor that you can stick a Gundam into, and a Gundam with a fucking nuke attached to it.

Most romance VNs and stories in general have some sort of last-act plot development that threatens to end things so the couple can bounce back and have a narrative climax. Sickness, family, trauma, a breakup feint, really anything is fair game. Anaheim Girl’s Love Story pulls out the most brutal one yet – “Stardust Memory happened”. It turns out that Anaheim has been playing both sides of the emerging Delaz conflict, and was planning on giving your team’s ship to a particularly unhinged Zeon commander as a gift of goodwill and temporary alliance. In doing so, they dismantle the iconic Gundam armor from the mobile suit frame, replacing it with a new and undeniably Zeonic red outer shell. It’s a genuinely fucked-up moment! To see your child ripped away from you and corrupted into being the other kind of war crimes monster, and your boss/girlfriend knew this was going to happen and was too ashamed to tell you. Rinne runs out of oxygen while trying to stop the Gebera Tetra from deploying, and falls into a coma afterwards. By the time she wakes up, the events of Stardust Memory have all played out, and things are in the process of returning to normal. Our protagonist ends up on a research vessel to Jupiter to test cutting-edge mobile suits, but promises to meet up with Sophie again when she returns. One wonders if she got recruited into joining Paptimus’ crew while on Jupiter, and was subsequently killed by Kamille. The timelines just barely overlap to make it possible!

Anyways, that’s Anaheim Girl’s Love Story. I’m not sure how fleshed out the hacker girl’s route is, or if there are different endings I could have gotten on mine. Maybe I’ll give it another shot next year. This game is by no means amazing. It is on some level just a softcore lesbian eroge with a Gundam coat of paint. But the delicacy with which it fits itself into the UC chronology without messing things up or being a fully irrelevant plot, the care put into having these ladies fall in love and do the usual OL yuri rituals, the honesty with which it carries itself… I’m so charmed by it all. I don’t know if I’d recommend it outright (you’d want to already be very invested in this slice of Gundam, and you need a VM with an older version of Windows to play it, and I think the website linking to the patch went down earlier this year), but I’m so happy that this exists in the first place and that I got to play it.

What I am less happy about is that this visual novel made me trick myself into watching Gundam 0083: Stardust Memory. This is entirely on me, mind. Most lesbians are fooled into watching Stardust Memory because they saw images of Cima Garahau online, but I was ready for that trick. No, I genuinely wanted to fill in the finer plot details of the 6.5/10 visual novel I just played. Oopsies.

[felicjana050896]

Ok, I saw more leaks, so.... link to the previous post:

and new ones below:

I won't write much about them, only:

1. In the leak about Alastor, we see him making a deal with Rosie and this deal was made before his death, so it is likely that he killed overlords for Rosie, not for himself, he already had a deal with Rosie from the very beginning of his stay in hell.

2. Rosie tells Alastor that she has to do something for her and then his soul will be hers, what could it be? I would say that killing these overlords, but that makes no sense, Rosie already had to have Alastor's soul to be able to order him, Alastor immediately agreed, so Rosie could have ordered him to do the stupidest and simplest task, just to get his soul as quickly as possible, it wasn't a fair deal, no deal with demons is fair, including Rosie.

(There was a small mistake here, but I correct it, unfortunately I wrote it yesterday at 22:00/23:00 after work, so my brain was no longer able to grasp the English language and translated it incorrectly into my native language, so I apologize, but Rosie says here: "and until you complete this task your soul will be mine", so UNTIL, not AFTER, until Alastor completes some task Rosie gave him, his soul belongs to her, so this favor he wants from Charlie it probably involves him wanting Charlie to help him fulfill some task Rosie has given him, a task he cannot do on his own, so he can free his soul from Rosie)

3. Which brings us to the third point, when Rosie clearly knew (maybe even caused it with her magic to have Alastor with her in hell) that Alastor would die the next day, shot by a hunter, he wanted fun on earth and fun in hell when he will die one day, and fate, or rather his deal, has turned against him, quite fair...

4. And four and last, Alastor will be caught by Vox..., he will be in captivity..., my one-sided Radiostatic is happy in my heart 😂

And Alastor and the mustache..., I never imagined him like that 😂 , he looks a bit like a typical sneaky but at the same time stupid cartoon villain and on the one hand he makes me laugh, but on the other hand I strangely like it, it's hard to decide which is truer 😂

Plus what I noticed at the very end is Alastor licking blood from his finger at the very beginning of the video, apparently he wasn't a cannibal in life, only after death, but in this video he clearly licks human blood, so are they going to make Alastor a cannibal from the very beginning? Is licking blood just a fetish of his and he doesn't eat meat himself?

And one more thing I saw were drawings of Al with a wound on his chest, probably caused by Adam (by the way, Alastor with his shirt unbuttoned and his sleeves rolled up ;) ), and on the left there was a shadow of Charlie and the sketch was called "CH-ALASTORSHIRTOPEN", which means that Alastor will unbutton his shirt in front of Charlie so she can see his wound, it could mean that we will actually have a plot like in fanfic where Charlie takes care of Alastor's wound 😁

[rosewind2007]

Interesting point raised during a conversation with @imitationgame77 !

RESTROOMS & BATHROOMS

(in The Murderbot Diaries)

In first, second and third books in The Murderbot Diaries, sometimes Murderbot refers to the “restroom”. It does this twice (n=2) in Artificial Condition; three times (n=3) in Rogue Protocol; and in Exit Strategy it mentions restrooms five times (n=5) —the word “bathroom” is never used

(see below, right at the bottom, for quotes and context)

Then, in Exit strategy we have the surprise mention of the “bathroom”, on page 60 of my e-copy (so slap bang in the middle, and also in the middle of the five restrooms (pages 9, 22, 22, 103, 120))

Up in the room, Pin-Lee was pacing slowly and trying not to grind her teeth and Ratthi had gone to the bathroom three times.

The person using the “bathroom” is Ratthi—and this language usage struck me at the time as I am British and “restroom” strikes me as far more American English, whilst “bathroom” is less so (I would note that British people tend to use other words like the (possibly less euphemistic) “toilet”: a word which Murderbot only uses once in Network Effect and goes “ugh” afterwards)—checking in the Oxford English Dictionary seems to confirm that restroom is typically American English

I was reminded that in All Systems Red, Ratthi uses the word “arseholes” rather than “assholes” (assholes being the spelling found throughout the rest of the books)—note that Ratthi doesn’t say the word “bathroom” in Exit Strategy, but the word is used about him (being Watsonian about it, perhaps Murderbot heard Ratthi say “I’m going to the bathroom—again…”?)

But, hey—could just be a one-off?

In Fugitive Telemetry there is one mention of the restroom (n=1), and zero bathrooms (see below)

But then in Network Effect there are eight restrooms (n=8) and five bathrooms (n=5)

The first six mentions are of restrooms, on the pages listed below (pages as in my e-copy of Network Effect)

78 restroom

85 restroom

85 restroom

86 restroom

88 restroom

145 restroom

👆six uses of “restroom” all but one of these are Murderbot’s narrative (the other is the first one of the two on page 85, spoken by Ras)

The last one of those (p.145) is when Murderbot has a “rage blackout” and locks itself in the restroom…again Murderbot narrative voice:

Then who should come to join it in the restroom to try and talk it out, but…Ratthi!

Initially he talks to it, using the word “restroom” (page 149, bringing the number of restrooms to seven)

BUT when he knows he’s successfully talked it down (out):

And Ratthi calls it, not a restroom but…a bathroom! This is on page 150.

After this there are another three bathrooms on pages

152 bathroom

154 bathroom

166 bathroom

Of these, the first is spoken by Arada (page 152) then the other two are Murderbot’s narrative voice.

Then we go back to a reference to the eighth mention of a restroom on page 173 (which is Murderbot lying grumpily to Thiago, telling him Amena is in the restroom) and then finally there’s a last bathroom—which is in a HelpMe.file…bringing the total to bathroom (n=5) and restroom (n=8)

Which, given the arsehole in All Systems Red—

This makes me think that Martha Wells imagines Ratthi (and possibly others) pronouncing or using certain words in a weirdly “British” way which may influence Murderbot, and perhaps others, around him

Rather disappointingly, for the purposes of this blog, System Collapse has just three (n=3) “restrooms” and no bathrooms (or toilets) mentioned (all are in Murderbot’s narrative voice)

How this happens in a space future with Earth itself never being mentioned is beyond the scope of this little blog—perhaps it’s like the Ninth Doctor said:

“Lots of planets have a North”

See below for context for the novellas:

Artificial Condition n=2

(Tapan had told them she was sick and was going to the shuttle’s restroom compartment. They hadn’t realized what had happened until the shuttle had cleared the port.)

I thought Tapan was getting up to go to the restroom facility, but then she settled on the pads behind me, not quite touching my back.

Rogue Protocol n=3

So I listened to them a lot and pretended to be launching major investigations into incidents like who left a cracker wrapper in the galley restroom sink.

There were no private cabins, just a couple of bunks built against the bulkheads up on the control deck next to the pilot suite, and two more in cubbies behind the cargo station, next to the emergency MedSystem and a tiny restroom cubby.

And one camera was in the central hub for the port traffic control and the other in a jury-rigged hub that was now acting as station control—the two places where if something went wrong, you needed to know right away; in other words, not the mess, restrooms, or private quarters.

Exit Strategy n=5

I’d removed the blood and fluid from my clothes back on Ship, in the cleaning unit in its passenger restroom, but there hadn’t been anything on board to fix the projectile and shrapnel holes.

I’d paid for a private cabin with an attached restroom facility and automated meal delivery.

It had a bunk with a bedding packet and a small display surface, a door leading to the tiny restroom facility, a storage cabinet for personal possessions, and a meal distribution receptacle.

It was a small ship-to-ship shuttle, with only one compartment with seating along the bulkheads, and a cubby for emergency supply storage and a restroom.

It took me a minute—and I mean a full minute, my access speed was terrible—to recognize the symbol on the closed door as an archaic sign for a restroom.

Fugitive Telemetry n=1

Hopefully Aylen was in a restroom and not dead somewhere in a corridor.

NB/PS I also checked for washroom, and there didn’t seem to be any in any of the books

The short story Home (from Mensah’s POV) has one restroom, and no bathrooms or toilets mentioned

The short story Compulsory has no restrooms, bathrooms or toilets mentioned

[veryace-ficrecs]

Danny phantom Fic Recs

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)

Ecto Upgrade Start by GothMoth - Rated G

Danny’s growing up and his bodies doing the typical adultifying things, but also doing some… not so typical adutlifying things.

Deep Sea Diver by Marsalias - Rated G

Tumblr prompt by dannyphantom-rework: Ghost zone is like the ocean, in the sense that the deeper you go into it, the scarier and darker it becomes.

Electricity by DarkNymfa - Rated G

Tucker huffed, disgruntled. “Yeah, uh huh. I’ll believe that when you stop having live electricity running down your arms.” “Technically,” Danny said, lips twitching into a smirk, “it’s dead electricity.”

when the kingdom comes calling by blueh - Rated T

The Observant hardly looks rattled at the threat. If anything, the thing seems even more determined to get Danny to go through with this absolute bullshit plan to make him, someone who is half human, king of the ghosts. “Follow me to the Infinite Realms for your coronation. You are under obligation to meet the council at Pariah’s Keep where you shall receive the Crown of Fire and the Ring of Rage. It is what the council wishes.” “No,” Danny snaps. “I have an English test next period with Mr. Lancer.” “This is no time for your silly human games—" Danny slams the locker in its eye. also known as: the Ghost Zone population assumes that Phantom took the crown with dignity. What they don’t know is fifteen year old Danny Fenton just wants to graduate high school, is constantly ready to throw hands with an army of eyeballs, and absolutely will not be crowned the Ghost King without a fight.

Drizzling by TakingOverMidnight3482 - Rated G

There was a peace to the rain, Danny had found. A sense of quiet, where no one attacked. No one ventured out to cause trouble. Where the Earth, for one second, was being healed and healing those around it.

Shift by Alexa_Piper - Rated T

It turns out that the views of Agents O and K are not held by the rest of the Guys in White… which they discover when they bring in a fourteen-year-old half-ghost kid for "painful experiments".

Smells Like Team Spirit by UnluckyAlis - Rated G

Some mascots are great at pumping up a crowd. As Casper High's mascot, Danny has only one job: strike fear into the hearts of their opponents. This is the story of how Danny becomes the famed Mascot of Fear.

Of Tweets and Twats by DarkNymfa - Rated T

Too Fine @BurgersKing @nasafan your parents don’t have a website for Fentonworks? | 🌟✨⭐ @nasafan have you met my parents? | Too Fine @BurgersKing fair point I will cease speaking

Stargazer by Mysterious_Prophetess - Rated G

Inspired by this tumblr post by floralflowerpower where Danny is a NASA astronaut, and famous too, but in order to join NASA he had to change his name to distance himself from his....less well regarded Parents and Sister. Years later, when his real name Fenton is pulled from its grave, Danny refuses to disavow his parents' line of work.

Ancient Alexandria: Not-So-Ancient Apparently by piece_of_pierce - Rated T

Danny has a new homework assignment. Specifically, he's supposed to theorize about the ectobiology of ghosts then make a presentation about it. Who needs to theorize, though? He has access to all the research in the Zone! Now, where can he actually access that research?

Bet on it by thatgirl_youknowtheone - Rated T

Danny's parents find out about Wes' theories, as Maddie and Walter talk it out in the principal's office, Danny and Wes are stuck in the hallway listening. "Your son might think it's just some funny joke, but I will not have anyone accusing my son of being that lying, manipulative, piece of ectoplasmic scum!" Danny sank lower in his chair, face tightening with every word. "You know they wouldn't say that stuff if they knew the truth." said Wes.

Make the Call by Library_of_Cronos - Rated T

The five times CPS was almost called on the Fentons and the one time Jazz called them herself.

Poor Life Choice by princessFanona - Rated G

A situation where Danny dies (not the portal accident) in a public setting and everyone freaks the heck out, but then he gets up as if nothing happened. (PR339) Danny happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time...or maybe not. Depends on how you look at it.

Ringback by kelpeigh (chitaqua) - Not Rated

“I think we’re on hold.” a soft voice hedges. Four hoods twist as the group looks to their youngest member. She continues, “This is just a ringback tone. Don’t you have one, Steph— uh, Shadowlux?” “You’re right.” The cloaked man next to her answers. “We’re totally on hold.” - A summoning au where Danny can only be summoned as Phantom, and anyone who tries when he's human has to wait until he happens to go ghost again.

Is This Just A Thing that Girls Do? by newdog14 - Rated T

“Yeah, and about that,” The Ghost King said, pinching the bridge of nose in frustration. “You found an archaic book of magic with a summoning spell for the Ghost King, who you believed to be evil, and then you used said spell to bring me here and bind me to answer questions, and you did this so you could ask me about a middle schooler’s crush?” “We also want to know what the secret of life is,” Cori said, crossing her arms defensively. “42,” he answered without hesitation.

Growing Pains by ayjayar - Rated G

Jazz has had the world's nastiest case of pink eye. The doctor is starting to suspect it's not actually pink eye. When Danny notices her eyes glowing, the Fentons seek second opinions from unlikely sources.

after school summons by blueh - Rated T

"So this is the fabled Ghost King," the man says like he expected better. Danny feels he should almost be offended if it isn't for the tiny detail that these cultists—who summoned him by using salt and goat bones—assume he is the ghost king. "…Did you seriously confuse me with Pariah Dark?" The man pauses. "Pariah Dark?" "Yes! He's like fifteen feet tall, has a huge sword, is a pain in the ass, and has, like, an entire ghost army. I have, I dunno, pre-calc homework in my bag. We are not the same." Or: Danny accidentally gets summoned. He’s not happy about it.

The Tattooed Defeat by Sergeant_Tears - Rated T

Ghosts get tattoos whenever they defeat a new enemy. Danny surprisingly never got these. Until he did... but not as Phantom.

inviso-doodles by attu - Rated T

What are friends for if not making you internet famous?

Animals by Marsalias - Rated T

Most humans of Amity Park did not appreciate what Danny did for them. (The animals were another story.)

Side Effects by redrobin1989 - Rated T

Side effects of activating a ghost portal to another dimension while inside include: fatigue, nausea, vomiting, headache, tremors, hypothermia, loss of visibility and tangibility and ectoplasmic glowing. If left untreated, these symptoms may lead to death or permanent physiologic changes.

Proof of Identity by Clari_net23 - Rated G

Detective Harris just wants to find out who the ghost boy is.

"'Doctor, I'm a ghost. There's a reason I'm doing this in a morgue and not a regular clinic.'"

'Touche.'

Detective Harris felt the beginnings of a headache in her temple. All she wanted from this was his identity. She didn’t think it would be this much of a challenge when the chief brought up this assignment. "

[enemiestoloversss]

Jealous gaviii

Warnings:Smut,unprotected sex (and there are probably some grammar mistakes idk? English is not my first language sorry!)

Y/N POV

It was 6:30pm.I was getting dressed up to attend a Barça event with my boyfriend.I finally managed to pick a right outfit to wear.It was a short strappy black dress and some black heels.I knew Pablo loved that dress, i wanted to tease him a little tonight.I applied some light eyeshadow and mascara to make my eye features stand out, and I applied some red lip gloss to my lips to make them shine.As I was getting ready my boyfriend Pablo was doing the same.Pablo could possibly be the best boyfriend on the earth ever.He was always so thoughtful and respectful even tho I have to admit we did break up a couple of times and we may had our differences in the past but we'd always run back to eachother.Pablo can be a very jealous type at some point but we'd always get over it.Forgive and forget. Jealous Pablo had always led to make up sex in wich I find incredibly hot in my opinion,it's just a big turn on.Sometimes jealous Pablo can get out of hand, but hey having Pablo is better than not Pablo am I right?;) Anyways I've always imagined a bright future with us,he's just so beautiful and pure and I know that we are going to be stuck with eachother for entirety.

"Y/N" Pablo called, "Are you ready bebé?"

I headed downstairs where he was waiting.

"Oh Y/N you look absolutely stunning baby" he smiled holding and giving you a kiss."Well you don't look so bad yourself" I winked and we chuckled. "Come on let's get going we are gonna be late" He took my hand we led me into his car.I couldn't deny how hot he looked tonight.Dont get me wrong he is always attractive but looking at him in the suit just makes me wanna do things to him.

Pablo's POV

As I was driving I took at small glance at Y/N and smiled to myself.How was she so perfect?How am I so lucky to have this women?She looks absolutely divine tonight.She's wearing that dress again, short black dress with the slit exposing her breasts.And her eyes twinkled exactly like the stars right now.I just wish at this moment I could just fuck her this instant.I won't be able to resist her.

Y/N POV

A cold breeze flew last in the air whilst the stars shine upon us as it glistens in the atmosphere Night falls is what we call it when we first met.It was just a beautiful sight to gaze at.I could be lost in this sight for hours.

20 minutes later we arrived.Most of the Barça players and their girlfriends were already there and I was thrilled.They were like a second family to me.Sira (Ferran's girlfriend) and Anna (Lewandowski's wife) were always so fan to talk to,Frankie and Ansu always Crack the best jokes and Pedri...well Pedri was like a big brother to me and that's what I loved about him.

Me and Pablo held hands as we entered the garden.It was decorated with shimmering lights surrounding us and the tables were set poshly and there in the background was relaxing music playing.

"Pablo!Y/N!You're finally here!" Sira exclaimed as she gave us a hug. "It's good to see you too Sira!" We then met up with the rest of the group and we were just telling stories and having fun.I was hanging around with the ladies whilst Pablo was with the men

"Sooo...Y/N" Sira started "How's you're sex life with Pablo?" My eyes widened and I almost chocked on my drink. Typical Sira TY-PI-CAL SIRA.... "Sira!What the hell!" She smirked as the rest of the girls laughed "Come on Y/N.The chemistry is real between you.Pablo is definitely the one you need to keep the hold of. Besides do you remember the time in the dressing room when I walked in on you and Pablo Fu-" "Alright Sira I think we have had enough from you today" I laughed. "But what about you and Pedri?" Anna said is there any tension between the pair of you.I mean I've seen Pedri has his eyes on you for a couple of months." "Wait what?Me and Pedri? I don't think so.Hes like a brother to me I'd think it'd be wrong if he had feelings for me that was more than that" "Aww this is sweet Y/N.This is one of the things I love about you"Anna said. "Aww thanks Anna" "I think dinners ready!Come on girls!" Sira said.

One hour after we ate it was slow dancing time.Pablo took my hand and led me to the dance floor.I gripped into him as he put his hand behind my back and his other hand holding mine.Being in his touch was like heaven, everything was just so right about him.His personality,his hair,his face, his scent, everything.i grabbed onto my boyfriends neck and started to pepper him with kisses to tease him from his cheek to his neck he quietly groaned "Oh Y/N do you have to do this now" he said and smiled than I took his lips and smashed them into mine."Bebe you drive me absolutely crazy" I giggled "I know." You both gazed at the sky."Night falls." You both said and looked at eachother and smiled.He gave you a peck on the head.From the other side of the garden I saw Pedri and he gave me a smile as I exchanged one back.Minutes later Pablo's phone rang "Hold on a sec bebe let me take this." He said and he kissed my cheek before he went inside.

I sat back down on the table and poured myself a drink and Pedro came up to me and held out his hand "Come on love let us have a dance." I didn't wanna be rude and reject him so I politely took his hand and took me to dance.His style of dancing may not be the same as Pablo's but it was still somewhat calming."Have I mentioned how ravishing you look tonight?"he smirked and kissed my hand."No you haven't but thank you." I blushed. "Than my apologies love,you look extremely extraordinary."I looked down at my toes for the compliments he gave me as as my cheeks changed with a tint of pink but he held up my chin "No need to be shy little one."he smiled.He held me close wich felt slightly odd for some reason but he was my friend so why would it be odd?

A few minutes later Pablo returned from his phone call and was standing there,staring at me and Pedri dancing.I caught him noticing and he stormed out. "Pablo!"I called and looked back at Pedri "I'm really sorry!" I left to catch up Pablo. "Pablo, where are you going?"

"What do you think I'm doing Y/N?going home"

"You can't!"

"Why not?"

"Pablo why are you doing this?"

"So you actually care for me?Why don't you ran back to Pedri you both seemed pretty comfortable there?"

"Oh, so this is what it's all about,me and Pedri? We were just dancing! It was nothing he was just trying to be polite!"I fired

"Polite?No Y/N he's jealous.Hes jealous that I have you.Pedri has always liked you how are you so fucking blind to see that?"

"Pablo, you have to grow up he's just a friend who wants to take care of me."

"Take care of you?That's my job!I'm your boyfriend and it's my fucking job to take care of you Y/N!" He spat.

"You know what Pablo?!You can shove your jealousy right up your Dick coz I'll just leave without you!"

This was the moment of realization.I didn't mean to say those words to him.I felt guilt rushing upon me.i could see the anger in his face.We may have had arguments before but I haven't seen him filled with this much anger and jealousy in a while.

"Get in the car now."

"Pablo I didn't mean to u jus-"

"NOW." He raged

I can tell that this wasn't going to end well.He's never raged at me like that before.Tears were starting to form and slip from my eyes but i tried to hold it.I noticed he started driving more faster than usual,was he really THAT angry?.We than arrived at the house and he practically dragged me to the bedroom and slammed my back down onto the mattress and he got on top of me.

"Why do you think I brought you back home to the bedroom Y/N?Huh?"

I stayed silent but he slapped my thigh

"I ASKED you a QUESTION!"

"B-because....because you though I was flirting with Pedri?"

"Sweetheart I didn't 'think' you were, I know you were.And how do you think it makes me feel?Seeing my girlfriend have another man flirt with her?"

"Angry and upset?" I almost whispered.

"You were a bad girl today.You know what bad girls get?Punishments."he whispered in my ear and send chills down my spine.

He started to undress me by taking off my dress exposing my naked body and my red lace panties I was wearing.

"Red lace panties huh?You know they are one of my favorites....You know I'd be jealous so I could just come here and fuck you. Or did you wear these for Pedri to fuck you?You fucking bitch!"

"No it's not like that-" SMACK. Another harsh slap to my thigh

"Did I say you could speak?I heard all about your talk with the ladies, about your and mine sex life.About the time Sira accidentally walked in on us having sex?You're such a whore Y/N. I bet you want me to fuck you in from of everyone to show who you belong to hm?If you're gonna act like a whore...I'm gonna fuck you like one"

I gulped.he started to undress himself by undoing his pants exposing his member.

"Look at you sweetheart.Gazing and craving for my dick to be inside of you, how pathetic"

Without hesitation he slid into your cunt and already started to thurst into you hard and rough. I screamed. His dick was pushing in and out of my throbbing pussy. It feels so good yet it hurts so bad.I moaned at the pain and pleasure and the noises filled the room."MM PABLO" I cried,he started going even more faster."yeah, that's it scream my name,scream the name you belong to" I felt my orgasm built up intense heat in my stomach, I need to cum. "PABLO PLEASE LET ME CUM!" "Hold on a few seconds bebe, I'm so close!" He pushed even harder as both of your moans and groans got louder. "Cum for me" he says rubbing my clit. I reached my orgasm and let it go. White,slimy liquid existing my cunt as Pablo did the same.We were both a panting mess.

He than pulled up and laid down next to me, i put my head on his chest.We were laying in the bed cussing another whilst he was fiddling with strands of my hair. "I bet Pedro couldn't fuck you like that" he chuckled. "Hmm, I don't know, we'll have to see..." I fought back jokingly to see his reaction and next thing I know he was pinning me down whilst being on top. "Ready for round two princess?" He smirked.

A/n: Feel free to send me more requests but please try to be specific ty🙏🏼

And before ya'll come for me bc of writing smut js know that I'm younger than Pablo😭

[sluttyhollow]

Hobie x alt black reader (gn)

Canon divergent (let’s just act like universes are all on the same timeline and the spiders can time travel without consequence,) reader is Miles older cousin, hobie doesn’t exist on earth 1610, black reader with locs (can be read as faux locs or even braids/twist tho) colored hair (color not specified) and piercings (nose, smiley, bridge), reader works with kids (unspecified jobs), your writer is from USA and wrote British English the best they could without it sounding ridiculous 😭

smut warnings: dub-con for sex under the influence of weed, mutual maturation turned into sex, gender and anatomy neutral reader

This got a big out of hand I fear, enjoy

18+ No Minors

Summers spent in the streets of Brooklyn as kid were always fun. The nature of being in a big city, there was always something for you and your little cousin Miles to do. As you grew up, the summers became summers and winters spent in the city with them. Then it became attending college nearby, then grad school, and now freshly graduated with a new job, you were staying with your Uncle Jeff and Aunt Rio while Miles lived in the dorms for school. Still your favorite little cousin, and you basically being his older sibling, he was home every weekend so you two could hang out. Miles told you everything, including his not so part time job as the neighborhood vigilante. Much to your displeasure and through his consistent insistence that he was safe, even reassured you that there were OTHER spider people in case he needed them. Which didn’t really make you feel better considering they were probably also young teenagers, later confirmed when he introduced you too his “friend” Gwen (the two teens obvious infatuation with each other causing your eyebrows to raise into your hairline). But they both seemed well enough that your worries disappeared for the time being.

With both your aunt and uncle working overnight shifts now that miles was older, you typically spent most nights and weekends in the home alone or with Miles and Gwen. That being said it was Friday night and miles should’ve been here a few hours ago. At your thoughts, you heard a thump echo from the living room. Assuming miles had finally made his way home you got up from your bed to greet him. Mouth fixed to call his name out in greeting as you walked into the front room all the words got stuck in your throat. Three different versions of spider man stood in the living room of your house. The one you recognized to be miles stood slumped up against a tall spider man covered in spikes, patches and buttons, holding his midsection as another spider man, this one whom you assumed to be Gwen, fussed about a wound on Miles stomach that you were finally taking notice of.

“What the fuck!? Miles!!” Jumping down the rest of the stairs you approached the three spiders, taking care to help them lie him down on the coffee table, you really couldn’t explain blood stains on the couch tomorrow.

“What the fuck happened” the one spider you didn’t know spoke, British accent filling the space around you as he finally pulled off his mask “hit a bit of a snag on a mission, but they got a good hit on Peter Pan before Gwendy and I grabbed him and legged it” if your cousin wasn’t bleeding on the living room table you’d take more time to appreciate the beauty of the man in front of you. Silver piercings across his perfect dark skin, teeth perfectly aligned in his mouth and a healthy set of wicks atop his head. All of which matched his spider persona perfectly.

Drawing your attention back to miles you hummed out a reply before reaching up to snatch the black mask off miles face so you could glare at him properly. Turning your head to see the other young teen in the room had also removed her mask you spoke to her “Gwen, I’m going to take his suit off to look at his wounds” at the mention of clothing being removed she turned bright red, excusing herself to find towels and first aid supplies you kept for miles specifically. With the help of the other man you helped sit miles back up and pulled the zipper on his suit down and rolled it so it sat on his hips before laying him back down to examine the damage.

The wounds were superficial enough, with the exception of one big gash in the center of his stomach, nothing a few stitches wouldn’t fix. After assessing the damage you re aligned your glare at Miles, who was staring at the other spider to avoid your wrath.

“Miles” a short hmm and the quickest side eye glance were sent your way. pinching his side with a decent amount of force you started your speech on scolding the teen, well teens now that Gwen was back with the supplies, on how they can’t just show up battered and bruised without warning, and their lack of safety, how dangerous being spider man was and how you’d just pass away if anything happened to them. Somewhere in the middle of your ranting, and finishing sewing Miles up, you were just ranting to be ranting. Turning your ire on the only person in the room who had felt it

“AND WHO ARE YOU ANYWAYS, YOU JUST LET THE KIDS AROUND YOU GET HURT LIKE THIS” you we’re cute. Colored locs framing your face while the rest sat tied up top of your head, metal pierced through your nose, directly between the prettiest pair of brown eyes and one more that showed itself whenever you talked. Plus you were protective of the two teenagers, which was also cute. A smirk, and air of nonchalance sat across his features as you yelled at him. Folding your arms across your chest you waited for him to answer you.

“Names Hobie luv, and those two blokes ran off to another demension on their own without me, I saved their arses from dying” at that both of you turned to look pointedly at the two teens who BOTH were now ignoring the two adults in the room. Turning back around to finally look at the man in front of you, letting out a deep breath that you weren’t really sure when you took in, as your hands slid down your face.

“Sorry bout that” it was mumbled and forced but Hobie understood your frustration. he too cared for the teens, but their recklessness knew no bounds when they were revved up.

“Ehh you gave em a proper scolding, yeah, can’t take it too personally” he chuckled and you followed suit, plopping on the floor next to him and introducing yourself. The two of you sat watching the young teens in front of you talk on the couch, both awkwardly fumbling over there words, Miles state of half undress still causing Gwen to be a red faced mess.

“Guess I should get Gwendy back to where she belongs luv, maybe we’ll meet under better circumstances next time yeah” standing up to his full height, before stopping a long arm down to your level to pull you up. the smile playing at his lips signified next time would likely be sooner than you thought, not that you minded too much. Bottom lip grazing your top row of teeth before your tongue followed its path, you hid the smile you felt creeping on your face nodding your head in ascent to his statement.

Nodding one last time as he and Gwen stepped foot through the portal that had appeared within your living room. Watching the place it was for a few more seconds before turning to face Miles, who was wearing a shit eating grin.

“You feelin ma boy huh cuz” you couldn’t stand teenagers really. They talked too damn much… he wasn’t wrong but damn.

“Still ain’t got enough fizz to bag Gwen I see” the smile on his face dropping to be replaced by a mean mug “still doing that tired move my dad tried to teach ya, ain’t got no better game” where his smile fell, yours was steady rising.

“But yeah I might be feelin ya boy just a little bit” with that, you turned on your heels and headed back up the stairs. You threw a goodnight over your shoulder towards miles before closing the door.

Though you knew you’d see him again, what you didn’t expect was to unlock the front door exactly a week later to find him pounding across the couch while, wait a minute is that another teenager on the floor. You were collecting new spider teens like Pokémon. The sound of the door opening and bags hitting the floor caused everyone to pause to look at you.

“Yoooo cuz! You know Gwen, and I’m sure you remember Hob” you caught the look he sent you after that “and this is my friend Pav, he works with us too” the kid in question was in front of you, arms encasing you in a hug before you could register that he even moved. And he was back on the floor waving and smiling at you before you could wrap yours back around him to reciprocate the action. Flashing a full smile at the kid, you went to pick up the groceries but saw a pair of black boot stalking off with your bags being toted by a pair and spike cuffed hands. Following them up the body they were attached to before setting your eyes on the pretty face you met the other day. He winked at you before walking into the kitchen, leaving you to follow behind him with the last remaining bag.

“Nice fit” Simple enough, without his spider man suit under his clothes he still looked every bit of attractive. Black jeans, held low on his waist by a couple belts, tattered band tee and his signature battle vest. Random jewelry littered across his hands and neck to match the ones across his face. Continuing your trek into the kitchen you started placing the groceries in their respective locations. Hobie’s brain fried for a second, not understanding what you meant, until the differences in British versus US slang registered. You meant his outfit, though your lingering gaze let him know you’d probably agree with British meaning of the word too.

“You look proper s’well” brown eyes taking in the Demonia boots, black cargo joggers, and black baggy cropped T-shirt you had worn to the store. Jewelry adorned in similar places as his, the lack of extra color in your black outfit making them stand out even more. The word cute flittered through his head again. Just As it had the first time he saw you. Leaning back against the counter, crossing one heavy boot clad foot over the other, he folded his arms across his chest and watched as you began putting the groceries up.

While you weren’t necessarily a shy person, his intense stare fixated on you moving about paired with the lack of conversation had you feeling nervous. Pulling yourself up to full height, which was still shorter than his overly tall frame, you fixed him with a smirk before saying

“I know I’m fine sweetheart, how bout you put those long arms to use and put these up for me” a chuckle slipped through his lips before he pushed himself up, moving far more silent than his boots should’ve allowed him to as he approached you. Hunching his lanky body over yours to grab the items you were holding in your hands, he turned his mouth toward your ear before whispering

“How’s about ya let me take a photo then luv” warm breath fanning across the side of your face as he pulled away standing back to his full height to put the items in the place you had previously mentioned.

The push and pull and subtle flirtling, barely there touching turned into makeout sessions and heavy petting when the teenagers weren’t around. For months you both let this little game continue until it came to a head one night in hobies flat.

“I’m just saying that people benefit from these systems Hob, the kids I work with, these systems prevented them from dying, they still suck and they need to be eridicated and reformed but the people can’t govern themselves cooperatively, we keep proving that we can’t handle it, not yet”

“Do more harm then good innit?”

“Somebody has to be willing to change it then yeah?”

Staring at you, Hobie’s chest filled with desire and then some. You weren’t a punk, not like him at least. But hearing you talk, knowing that while you may not be willing to set the establishment ablaze, you were willing to be the one to rip it apart and start something new and he loved that about you.

The two of you were having a smoke session, you providing the weed cause apparently Earth 1610’s was better. Somewhere between your second and third pre-roll the tension in the air became charged and somewhere after the third began its rotation you and hobie were stripped down to your underwear, both of you too high to deal with the feeling of clothes on your bodies, or so you said. Once the third was done you both were beyond faded and the tension was palpable, hidden barely by the sound of his tv playing something until Hobies voice cut through sending jolts through your already on edge body.

“I wan you to do somethin for me luv” two pairs of low brown eyes meet, both filled with something too good to be spoken

“Yeah, what’s that” it was barely above a whisper, eyes still connected as his next words sent arousal through your body “wan you to touch yourself for me” pulling your bottom lip between your teeth nodding your head as you rolled your legs from under your body to sit with your legs spread. Reaching between them to start toying with yourself slowly. Putting on a show for him to enjoy, and by the looks of it, he was enjoying. Picking up your hands motions, throwing your head back just slightly so you could let a moan of his name slip through. Hobie was a calm man, patience came to him naturally, but you were breaking his resolve and quickly. He’d been palming himself through his underwear since you started but he needed to feel skin on skin. Lifting his hips up just enough to pull his underwear just beneath his balls. Wrapping his large hand around the base and giving himself a squeeze to try and ease the ache he was feeling, he readjusted his attention back on you and began slowly stroking the length of his shaft.

Your head had dropped back down allowing your lidded gaze to meet his for a moment before it dropped down to watch his movements. Perfect, he was so god damned perfect, another moan falling out of your mouth at his actions. The movements of your hand speeding up pushing you closer to falling over the edge before a hand wrapped around yours effectively halting your movements and causing your eyes, that you hadn’t realized had fallen closed, to pop back open and stare at Hobie’s smirking face. Deep breaths racking through your body as a whine slipped out with your fading attempt at an orgasm. Without any words Hobie grabbed your body, placing you in his lap. Legs hooked over his longer spread ones exposing you so he can finish what you started.

Longs arms wrapped around your body, hands reaching down to graze across you. Every simple movement of his feeling like ice on your hot body, everything was just a little extra sensitive. Hands dexterous from years of playing guitar, rough and strong from his years spent defending the world. Easily toying with you until he was using his other arm to keep you firmly placed in his lap. Writhing around to combat the pleasure he was filling you with, your peak creeping back up up the length of his spine and finally pushing its way out as he worked you through your previously denied orgasm.

“S’good for me” voice deep, close to your ear, lips leaving kisses across the expanse of your neck as you came back down. Hobie WAS patient but you made every semblance of patient fr leave his body. Made he want to consume every bit of you to make you a part of him. Give you everything he’s got and then make more to give you and that exactly what he was going to do. Rolling you over to lay flat on your back, his body caged you to the bed as he guided your ankles to rest atop his shoulders. Using your previous mess, he rubbed himself across you, smearing it around your hole to aid in his intrusion, a rather sturdy looking one at that. Dark pink tip rested atop a brown shaft, glistening with your cum around it. Sitting even prettier nestled against you. Holding your legs down, he slid himself in to the hilt in one motion, making you both cry out loud. Hobie WAS patient and calm but you have seemingly erased any semblance of that. The feeling of you around him reduced it further below zero. It was all rough strokes, wandering calloused hands, teeth and tongues gnashing in perfectly fulfilling kisses.

Nothing could’ve made this feel any better. Bodies sliding against each other in the best of ways until both of you worked yourselves over the edge. Warmth filling you from his release as he held himself there to come down. Unlatching your ankles from where they’d come to circle around his neck, he placed your legs back on his mattress before pulling himself out of you to watch how his release leaked from you, perfectly contrasting against the brown of your skin. Not bothering to clean either one of you up, he fixed you both to lay correctly in the bed pulling the sheet up to cover your bodies.

“May not be one for labels but if ya let anybody touch ya like that I might kill them luv” labels may not be bad, he thinks. In this instance at least but unnecessary none the less. Hobie could hop through dimensions, and has had partners in the multitude of places he’s managed to visit when it was convient and staying in those universes for longer than what was necessary never crossed his mind. His universe needed a spider man sure, but he could also simply travel back and forth too. He’s sure he’s not the only spider person on his universe either. The thoughts were spiraling through his mind, he could make this work, he would make this work somehow.

“Hmmm” your voice cut through bringing him back to reality. You’d wrapped yourself around his midsection, sleep filling the tone of your voice. “I think we’re on the same page then yeah?”

He could think about it later he supposes.

[infiniteglitterfall]

Me, looking through books on Palestine: "Ilan Pappé wrote one called 'The Biggest Prison On Earth?!' People in Gaza hate it being called a prison. There's an entire hashtag for it. There's been an account dedicated to collecting pics and videos of #TheGazaYouDontSee for 6 years.

"Is Pappé even Palestinian? oh god wait I can tell already. this is gonna be an 'Israeli apologist' isn't it." Internet: "Yeah, Pappé's Israeli."

Me: "For fuck's--- so people will believe Israelis unquestioningly if they're shit-talking Israel, but in all other situations, Israelis are all liars?"

Internet: "Pretty much. Also, at best, Ilan Pappé must be one of the world’s sloppiest historians."

Me, admittedly in full schadenfreude now: "What?!?!"

Internet: "Benny Morris. That historian who's extremely hard-core about primary source documentation, who wrote that detailed book about how and why each group of Palestinian refugees left in 1947-9. He reviewed three books about Palestine."

Me: "Holy shit. And the book by Pappé is about the Husaynis. The family that Nazi war criminal Amin al-Husseini came from, the guy who fucked absolutely everything up for both Israel and Palestine."

Internet: "That's the one. Morris wrote, 'At best, Ilan Pappe must be one of the world’s sloppiest historians; at worst, one of the most dishonest. In truth, he probably merits a place somewhere between the two.'"

Me: "Why??"

Internet: "He says, 'Here is a clear and typical example—in detail, which is where the devil resides—of Pappe’s handiwork. I take this example from The Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine'....

"Blah blah blah, basically in 1947 the UN voted to partition the land into Palestine and Israel, and extremist militias started shooting at Jewish towns and people. David Ben-Gurion was the leader of the Jewish community there, and his journal describes a visit from a scientist named Aharon Katzir, telling him about an experiment codenamed "Shimshon." Morris gives us the journal entry:

...An experiment was conducted on animals. The researchers were clothed in gas masks and suit. The suit costs 20 grush, the mask about 20 grush (all must be bought immediately). The operation [or experiment] went well. No animal died, the [animals] remained dazzled [as when a car’s headlights dazzle an oncoming driver] for 24 hours. There are some 50 kilos [of the gas]. [They] were moved to Tel Aviv. The [production] equipment is being moved here. On the laboratory level, some 20 kilos can be produced per day.

"Morris says, 'This is the only accessible source that exists, to the best of my knowledge, about the meeting and the gas experiment, and it is the sole source cited by Pappe for his description of the meeting and the "Shimshon" project. But this is how Pappe gives the passage in English:

Katzir reported to Ben-Gurion: 'We are experimenting with animals. Our researchers were wearing gas masks and adequate outfit. Good results. The animals did not die (they were just blinded). We can produce 20 kilos a day of this stuff.'

"'The translation is flecked with inaccuracies, but the outrage is in Pappe’s perversion of "dazzled," or sunveru, to "blinded"—in Hebrew "blinded" would be uvru, the verb not used by Ben-Gurion—coupled with the willful omission of the qualifier '"for 24 hours."'

"'Pappe’s version of this text is driven by something other than linguistic and historiographical accuracy. Published in English for the English-speaking world, where animal-lovers are legion and deliberately blinding animals would be regarded as a barbaric act, the passage, as published by Pappe, cannot fail to provoke a strong aversion to Ben-Gurion and to Israel.

"'Such distortions, large and small, characterize almost every page of The Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine. So I should add, to make the historical context perfectly clear, that no gas was ever used in the war of 1948 by any of the participants. [Or, he later notes, by either Israel or Palestine ever.] Pappe never tells the reader this.

"'Raising the subject of gas is historical irrelevance. But the paragraph will dangle in the reader’s imagination as a dark possibility, or worse, a dark reality: the Jews, gassed by the Nazis three years before, were about to gas, or were gassing, Arabs.'"

Me: "Uuuuggghhhhhhhhh. Yeah, it will."

Internet: "He does say, 'Palestinian Dynasty was a good idea.' Then he does some really detailed historian-dragging about the lack of primary sources and reliance on people's interpretations of what they say instead.

"'Almost all of Pappe’s references direct the reader to books and articles in English, Hebrew, and Arabic by other scholars, or to the memoirs of various Arab politicians, which are not the most reliable of sources. Occasionally there is a reference to an Arab or Western travelogue or genealogy, or to a diplomat’s memoir; but there is barely an allusion to documents in the relevant British, American, and Zionist/Israeli archives.

"'When referring to the content of American consular reports about Arab riots in the 1920s, for example, Pappe invariably directs the reader to an article in Hebrew by Gideon Biger—“The American Consulate in Jerusalem and the Events of 1920-1921,” in Cathedra, September 1988—and not to the documents themselves, which are easily accessible in the United States National Archive.

"'Those who falsify history routinely take the path of omission. They ignore crucial facts and important pieces of evidence while cherry-picking from the documentation to prove a case. 

"'Those who falsify history routinely take the path of omission. They ignore crucial facts and important pieces of evidence while cherry-picking from the documentation to prove a case. 

"'But Pappe is more brazen. He, too, often omits and ignores significant evidence, and he, too, alleges that a source tells us the opposite of what it in fact says, but he will also simply and straightforwardly falsify evidence.

"'Consider his handling of the Arab anti-Jewish riots of the 1920s.

"'Pappe writes of the “Nabi Musa” riots in April 1920: “The [British] Palin Commission... reported that the Jewish presence in the country was provoking the Arab population and was the cause of the riots.” He also quotes at length Musa Kazim al-Husayni, the clan’s leading notable at the time, to the effect that “it was not the [Arab] Hebronites who had started the riots but the Jews.”

"'But the (never published) [Palin Commission Report], while forthrightly anti-Zionist, thereby accurately reflecting the prevailing views in the British military government that ruled Palestine until mid-1920, flatly and strikingly charged the Arabs with responsibility for the bloodshed.

"'The team chaired by Major-General P.C. Palin wrote that “it is perfectly clear that with... few exceptions the Jews were the sufferers, and were, moreover, the victims of a peculiarly brutal and cowardly attack, the majority of the casualties being old men, women and children.” The inquiry pointed out that whereas 216 Jews were killed or injured, the British security forces and the Jews, in defending themselves or in retaliatory attacks, caused only twenty-five Arab casualties.'"

Me: "Yeah. I'm looking at that report right now and it says there had been an explosion, and then people were looting Jewish stores and beating Jews with stones, and in one case stabbing someone. Some people said that some Jews got up on the roof of a hotel and retaliated by throwing stones themselves.

"And then it literally says, 'The point as to the retaliation by Jews is of importance because it seems to have impressed the Military and led them to imagine that the Jews were to some extent responsible for provoking the rising.' That's the only thing it really says about anyone blaming the Jews.

"Except.... the very beginning gives some historical context. And it does say that when the Balfour Declaration came out, Muslims and Christians 'considered that they were to be handed over to an oppression which they hated far more than the Turk's and were aghast at the thought of this domination....

"'If this intensity of feeling proceeded merely from wounded pride of race and disappointment in political aspirations, it would be easier to criticise and rebuke: but it must be borne in mind that at the bottom of all is a deepseated fear of the Jew, both as a possible ruler and as an economic competitor. Rightly or wrongly they fear the Jew as a ruler, regarding his race as one of the most intolerant known to history....

"'The prospect of extensive Jewish immigration fills him with a panic fear, which may be exaggerated, but is none the less genuine. He sees the ablest race intellectually in the world, past-masters in all the arts of ousting competitors whether on the market, in the farm or the bureaucratic offices, backed by apparently inexhaustible funds given by their compatriots in all lands and possessed of powerful influence in the councils of the nations, prepared to enter the lists against him in every one of his normal occupations, backed by the one thing wanted to make them irresistible, the physical force of a great Imperial Power, and he feels himself overmastered and defeated before the contest is begun.'

"Wow! What a great fucking example of how 'positive' stereotypes are actually used to fuck people over! We're not antisemitic, we actually think Jews are the smartest, most powerful, richest group with tremendous global power! So positive!! Not at all being used here to justify antisemitic violence!

"Also, immigration from all over the world actually meant that different agricultural and manufacturing techniques were brought into the region, and yes, financial investments to start businesses sometimes, which meant that Arab Palestinians there had the highest per capita income in the Middle East, the highest daily wages, and started a lot of businesses of their own. But go off, I guess."

"Anyfuckingway.... it basically says that the Muslims and Christians were angry and scared, the Jews were too quick to set up the functioning government that the Brits were supposed to be there to help both sides create -- and which the Arab leaders completely refused to create for Palestine, because (1) fascists and (2) didn't want Jews nearby -- and that they were "ready prey for any form of agitation hostile to the British Government and the Jews." Then it says the movement for a United Syria was agitating them real hard, and so were the Sherifians.

"Is that what Ilan Passe, I mean Pappe, meant by the Palin Report blaming the Jews?! That when it says it's understandable the Arabs were freaking out, because antisemitism, Pappe thinks it's saying the Jews were provoking them?!"

Internet: "I don't know. I kinda tuned out after the first hour you were talking."

Me: "OGH MY GOD"

Internet: "So anyway, then Morris ALSO says, 'About the 1929 “Temple Mount” riots, which included two large-scale massacres of Jews, in Hebron and in Safed, Pappe writes: “The opposite camp, Zionist and British, was no less ruthless [than the Arabs]. In Jaffa a Jewish mob murdered seven Palestinians.”

Me: "What the ENTIRE FUCK? There was no united 'Zionist and British' camp! The Brits would barely let any Holocaust refugees in, ffs!"

Internet: "Morris says, 'Actually, there were no massacres of Arabs by Jews, though a number of Arabs were killed when Jews defended themselves or retaliated after Arab violence.

"'Pappe adds that the British “Shaw Commission,” so-called because it was chaired by Sir Walter Shaw (a former chief justice of the Straits Settlements), which investigated the riots, “upheld the basic Arab claim that Jewish provocations had caused the violent outbreak. ‘The principal cause... was twelve years of pro-Zionist [British] policy.’”

"'It is unclear what Pappe is quoting from. I did not find this sentence in the commission’s report. Pappe’s bibliography refers, under “Primary Sources,” simply to “The Shaw Commission.” The report? The deliberations? Memoranda by or about? Who can tell?

"'The footnote attached to the quote, presumably to give its source, says, simply, “Ibid.”

"'The one before it says, “Ibid., p. 103.”

"'The one before that says, “The Shaw Commission, session 46, p. 92.”

"'But the quoted passage does not appear on page 103 of the report.

"In the text of Palestinian Dynasty, Pappe states that “Shaw wrote [this] after leaving the country [Palestine].” But if it is not in the report, where did Shaw “write” it?'"

Me: "I'M ON IT. [rapid-fire googling] OMG. This is.... Not the first time. In 'The Ethnic Cleansing of Palestine,' he reported that in a 1937 letter to his son, David Ben-Gurion declared: 'The Arabs will have to go, but one needs an opportune moment for making it happen, such as war.'

"It's not in the source he gave. It's not in any of the three different sources he's given for it.

"He apparently has never responded to any requests for an explanation, either from the journal he published in, or from other historians. But it says he did "obliquely [acknowledge] the controversy in an article in Electronic Intifada, in which he portrayed himself as the victim of intimidation at the hands of “Zionist hooligans.”'

"This is absolutely fucking wild. THEN it says the chair of the Ethics Committee where he was teaching eventually said that the second part of the quote ('but one needs,' etc) was a (combined?) paraphrase of a diary entry and a speech Ben-Gurion gave, and that the first half is 'based on' a letter to his son.

"And it's so convincing! The chair says, 'Shabtai Teveth[,] Ben Gurion’s biographer, Benny Morris and the historian Nur Maslaha have all quoted this letter. In fact their translation was stronger than the quotation from Professor Pappé: ‘We must expel the Arabs and take their place.’ Professor Pappé has documentary evidence of these quotations and the source will ensure that this is correctly cited in any future editions of the publication or related studies.'

"And IT'S NOT EVEN TRUE?!

"Ben-Gurion's actual diary entry (not a letter) says the opposite.

“'We do not want and do not need to expel Arabs and take their places.... All our aspiration is built on the assumption – proven throughout all our activity – that there is enough room in the country for ourselves and the Arabs.'

"Benny Morris misquoted it as "We must expel the Arabs and take their places" in the English version of his 1987 book The Birth of the Palestinian Refugee Problem, although it was correct in the Hebrew version. He corrected himself in the 2001 book Righteous Victims.

"Teveth also misquoted it in the English version of his 1985 book Ben-Gurion and the Palestinian Arabs, but again, had it correct in the Hebrew edition.

"And both Morris and Teveth explicitly point out the rest of the entry. The part about all their aspiration being built on the assumption and experience that there was enough room in the country for everyone.

"Historian Efraim Karsh’s 1997 book Fabricating Israeli History pointed out and corrected their mistakes.

"This is apparently a very well-known issue among historians of Israel and Palestine. It was a big deal in 2003, when an evangelist Christian publisher put out a book FULL of disinformation, which not only used the same quote as Pappe does, but also could not give a real source for it.

"But Pappe STILL USED THE MISQUOTE AND DOUBLED DOWN ON IT EVERY SINGLE TIME."

Internet: "Are you done? I know all this already."

Me: "Also, there are literally only two places where the phrase 'twelve years of pro-Zionist policy' shows up online, and they're both about Pappe making quotes up.

"NOW I'm done."

Benny Morris wasn't, though. The review continues at the link below. And the next part starts, "To the deliberate slanting of history Pappe adds a profound ignorance of basic facts. Together these sins and deficiencies render his “histories” worthless as representations of the past, though they are important as documents in the current political and historiographic disputations about the Arab-Israeli conflict. Pappe’s grasp of the facts of World War I, for example, is weak in the extreme."

[assortedseaglass]

Come Back To Me

Billy Washington x OFC

[Masterlist]

Warnings: Trigger Point (TV) Spoilers, Language

18+. This series will eventually contain violence, specifically related to terrorism; it will be depictions of what happens in the TV series, so those who have seen it will know what to expect. This series will also contain smut.

Author’s Note: Recently rewatched Trigger Point with my family, and I know I’m not the only one here with Billy Washington thirst. First chapter is just setting the scene, in a chapter or two the plot will link up the TV series.

Word Count: 2K

“Mean machine’s seen better days.” Ida slumped into the passenger seat of her best friend’s car, kicking aside an empty crisp packet to make way for her bag. Billy simply hummed in acknowledgment, reaching to turn the radio dial down and turn the ignition.

London, late June. The typically gentle English summer was transforming into a more formidable beast; on the radio a news reader announced that by mid-week the temperature would reach into the 30os. All the windows of Billy’s battered Vauxhall were down, his sandy hair already plastered to his forehead with sweat. Heat bounded off the high rises and bore down onto the street. Curtains flapped through open windows, people trudged wearily along the scorching pavement and the car rumbled towards a red light.

“How’d it go then?” Billy rasped, eyes focused on the traffic. “Fucking tosser,” he added in an undertone as a driver cut across the lane.

“Yeah, ok,” replied Ida. “First years are keen to learn, but they won’t say boo to a goose.”

“To be fair, I’d be terrified of you too,” Billy said with a smirk. “Wouldn’t cross you in a month of Sundays.”

Ida tutted at him but smiled nonetheless. “What’s the plan then, Wash?”

“Park and a pint? Got dinner at Becky’s parents’ tonight so I’ll drop you home around 6?”

“You and Becky back on then?”

Billy winked in response, and Ida tutted again.

“Ah, tune!” Billy ignored Ida’s chiding and turned up the radio.

*

Cranstead Fields at mid-afternoon was full of the typical fare. Young men playing football, dog walkers and a few of what Ida’s grandma called “shifty types”: druggies lurking under the shade of the trees. Billy and Ida sat with their backs against a tree trunk, watching the men kick around the football. Occasionally, it was kicked their way and Billy made a show of kicking it back.

“Go join them if you want, I don’t mind.” Ida’s bag was full of reading she had fallen behind on.

“Nah, you’re alright. Don’t wanna show them up.” He plonked himself back on the grass and lay next to her.

They had been coming to Cranstead Fields since they were kids. When Ida’s grandma grew tired, she offloaded her onto the Washington’s next door. Not that they minded, Billy had too much energy and Ida seemed to anchor him back on earth. Each Saturday, she watched from the side lines with Val or Jeff while Billy was at football club. If they were lucky, they’d get ice creams on the way home. Back at the house they’d bounce on the trampoline, waving to Ida’s grandma over the fence as she sat with a cup of tea and the cat in the sun. Inevitably, when Billy’s rough and tumble got too much for little Ida, she’d wander indoors and hover in Lana’s doorway. Billy’s older sister by ten years, Ida would watch as Lana put on make-up, or listen to whatever she had in her CD player.

Since the day she moved next door with her Grandma, Ida and Billy were inseparable and Cranstead was their playground. It was where their guardians sent them for a run around in a last-ditch attempt to rid them of energy before dinner. It was where Ida followed Billy as he screamed and shouted about Lana being their dad’s favourite after a particularly explosive argument. Where they sat on the swings, downing tinnies as Ida cried about a boy that Billy, quite frankly, didn’t think was worth it. Today, Cranstead served as common ground, somewhere to catch up as adulthood pulled them in different directions. Ida, a PhD student, teaching and researching to make her way. Billy, well, who knows?

Ida’s eyes were distracted from the football by the sound of tearing. Billy was pulling up clumps of grass. She reached out and put her hand on top of his. “Stop that.” He threw the last clump over her, which she wiped from her hair before asking what was wrong.

“This dinner thing tonight. Becky’s parents don’t hide the fact they hate me-“

“That’s not true!”

“Don’t interrupt. They’ve never liked me, Ida. And let’s be honest, who’d want their daughter with someone on the dole?” Billy sat up and put his elbows on his knees, eyeing the flats on the horizon.

Ida sat up and patted his back a moment. “Everyone’s struggling to get a job these days, something’ll come up. And if they say anything about it tonight, send em my way.” She nudged his shoulder, he huffed a non-committal laugh and they both looked at the horizon.

“Why don’t you talk to Becky about it?” Ida said. “Surely she can have a word with her parents? Mustn’t be nice for her to have them slag off her boyfriend!” The ball flew back towards them, and Billy stood to kick it back. He didn’t sit down again.

“Think she agrees with them to be honest.” He rubbed the back of his neck and Ida tutted. When Billy smirked down at her, she felt her cheeks burn.

“What?”

“I love that sound,” he said.

THWUMP

A wayward kick sent the football soaring into the back of Billy’s head.

“Watch it!” Ida shouted at the men, standing up. Billy grabbed the football from the ground, and instead of kicking it back, ran towards the car, laughing wildly.

“Wash! Billy Washington! Christ!” Ida grabbed her bag, heavy and full to bursting with books, and sprinted after him. The sound of the men shouting at them was muffled as her breath roared in her ears. Ahead of her, Billy dropped the ball, got in the car and started the engine. Ida flung herself into the passenger seat once more and they sped out of the car park and towards home.

*

Billy kept the engine running when they arrived outside Ida’s flat above the florist. The lights were already on. Sofia was home then. “Come in for a cuppa?”

“Nah, best be off to beat the traffic.” Billy leant his arm on the open car window and looked at her. Bright, deep and blue, his eyes gave the impression of one trying to hide that they had been crying. Above them were eyebrows set in one of two states; a frown or perplexment. A man with his heart on his sleeve. A flush of red always adorned his nose and the high points of his cheeks, even when he wasn’t embarrassed. When he was, he’d look down and freeze.

They had always been opposites. Where Billy was tall and lithe, Ida was short and soft. He sun-smattered and rosy, she pale and freckled. Ida was uptight, Billy was relaxed. She enjoyed being alone, he craved other people. Her smiles were broad and her laughter small, his were the other way around. Where Ida’s hair was dark and curly, his was like flaxen straw and in desperate need of cutting. A few tendrils were sticking to the nape of his neck, and Ida was just close enough to reach out and curl one around her finger…

“Ida?” Billy was grinning lopsidedly at her, the early evening light catching in his messy hair and bestowing him a halo. Ida laughed at that observation. Billy raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“Well, good luck,” she said awkwardly, fumbling with her bag and keys. Recovering herself she added, “And if they say anything, tell em to do one. Text me later, yeah?” Billy saluted in response and without another word, pulled away.

Ida waited until he’d turned the corner, waving as he did, before turning the key and dragging her sun-weary body up the stairs of the flat. She was right, Sofia was home - muffled giggles could be heard from her room.

A few minutes later, Sofia appeared in the doorway of the kitchen as Ida rooted around the fridge. “You been with Billy?”

“Yeah,”

“He got a job yet?”

“Nah.” Ida retrieved a squash from the back of the fridge and waved it at her friend. “Gonna make dinner, you want some?” Sofia nodded. “Does Faisal want feeding too?” Ida continued.

Sofia blushed. “How do you know!?”

“It’s that post-coital glow,” Ida winked and Sofia laughed.

“You could have it too, if only you invited a fella round once in a while.”

“Hush, you, do you want feeding?” Ida waggled her finger. Sofia gave her a knowing look and left to fetch Faisal from the bedroom. What Sofia didn’t know was that Ida couldn’t invite any old “fella” round. Not when one was already stuck in her head.

*

Billy wanted a beer. Why did he drive instead of getting the train? Becky’s parents had opened a bottle of Merlot to lubricate that evening’s interrogation, and he was feeling horrifically sober. When they asked him for the hundredth time whether he regretted not going to university, he looked to Becky but she avoided his eye and became very interested in her empty plate.

“I didn’t get the grades.” He said. Don’t lie to make them feel better. Ida’s voice echoed around his head. For a moment, no said a word.

“Your friend Ida is doing well, isn’t she.” Mrs Walters said, though it was a statement more than a question. “Funny that, really. How different two children with almost identical upbringings can be?” Did they really think him so stupid that he couldn’t pick up that thinly veiled insult? At least they’d presented him with a change of subject.

“Yeah, I picked her up from the uni today actually. She’s been teaching some of the first years.” Both of Becky’s parents looked to her instead of Billy, gauging her reaction. She looked at her father pointedly and continued to ignore Billy.

“Teaching undergraduates is a lot easier than teaching primary school though.” Becky’s dad chimed in. “Becky’s got the responsibility of early years progression on her shoulders. Not to mention all those bloody colds she gets from the little rascals!”

What could he say? Billy downed his water and putting on his bravest smile said, “I’d better be off. Up early tomorrow.”

“For what?”

Billy didn’t reply, only kissed Mrs Walters on the cheek, shook Mr Walters’ hand and followed Becky to the door. Her blonde hair was tied tightly in a ponytail, her arms folded over her crisply ironed blouse.

“Coming back to the flat?” Billy asked, snaking an arm around her waist and kissing her deeply.

“Not tonight,” she said between kisses. “Going to stay at mum and dad’s.”

Billy nuzzled and nibbled at her neck. “What’s the point of paying the rent if you’re always here? Come on, come back tonight,”

“Billy.” She put her arms on his chest and lightly pushed him away.

“Ok. Ok.” He said it more to himself than anyone else. He span around before he left, and kissed her quickly on the cheek. She giggled, then shut the door on him.

His phone was out in a flash. Without thinking, the same way your feet carry you home before you have even realised it, he sent a text to the last person in his messages.

Middle class wankers.

Seconds later, his phone pinged.

Went well then. Meet at the Swan tomorrow? 3ish? x

Starting the engine of his battered car, Billy Washington smiled for what felt like the first time in hours.

[thefisherqueen]

I'm reading Letters from Watson's The three Garridebs as a bedtime story tonight. First things first - what even is this title?? *some research later* Oh, Garridebs is a last name, apparently. Wouldn't have guessed that. Yet another story title I will never be able to remember

It may have been a comedy, or it may have been a tragedy. It cost one man his reason, it cost me a blood-letting, and it cost yet another man the penalties of the law. I'm intrigued. They surely didn't still do blood-letting in the early 20th century? Or does this mean that Watson gets wounded in this case

I remember the date very well, for it was in the same month that Holmes refused a knighthood for services which may perhaps some day be described. I'm having a bit of trouble telling apart when Holmes wants attention and when he does not. He seems to thrive upon Watson's attention, and to immensely enjoy the attention he receives by acting Dramatic(TM), yet public praise or fame is to be avoided?

I only refer to the matter in passing, for in my position of partner and confidant I am obliged to be particularly careful to avoid any indiscretion. Partner, confidant, collegue, companion, intimate friend. In other words, 'you are so important to me'

Holmes had spent several days in bed, as was his habit from time to time It's been years since I spent an entire day in bed. I wonder if that means that I'm doing better, or if I'm just not allowing myself enough time to rest and recover from Life

"Have you ever heard the name of Garrideb?" I admitted that I had not. Same, Watson, same

"Why do you say that, Mr. Holmes?" I seemed to read sudden suspicion in those expressive eyes. "Your whole outfit is English." Mr. Garrideb forced a laugh. "I've read of your tricks, Mr. Holmes, but I never thought I would be the subject of them." Oh my. This man does not like to be deduced. I have a feeling he's going to be difficult

"Why did he ever drag you into it at all?" asked our visitor, with a sudden outflame of anger. "What in thunder had you to do with it? Here was a bit of professional business between two gentlemen, and one of them must needs call in a detective! Ah, here we have our trouble. I hope Holmes politely yet ruthlessly will tell him to shut it and keep his calm

"And now, sir, since you are here, we had best have a clear account from your own lips. My friend here knows nothing of the details." Mr. Garrideb surveyed me with not too friendly a gaze. "Need he know?" he asked. Not even an actual king could pry these two apart, sir, you better not even try. They come Together

He made his money in real estate, and afterwards in the wheat pit at Chicago wheat pit: a market or exchange where wheat stocks are bought and sold (merriam-webster dictionairy)

one day I had a visit from the old man, and he was tickled to death to meet another man with his own name 'tickled to death' is one of the many amazing expressions I'm going to incorportate into my vocabulairy

I told him I was a busy man and could not spend my life hiking round the world in search of Garridebs. 'None the less,' said he, 'that is just what you will do if things pan out as I planned them.' I thought he was joking, but there was a powerful lot of meaning in the words, as I was soon to discover. "For he died within a year of saying them, and he left a will behind him. It was the queerest will that has ever been filed in the State of Kansas. His property was divided into three parts, and I was to have one on condition that I found two Garridebs who would share the remainder. I... wow. That is some typical rich guy bullshit. I wonder if a third one exists at all?

"I am wondering, Watson—just wondering!" "At what?" Holmes took his pipe from his lips. "I was wondering, Watson, what on earth could be the object of this man in telling us such a rigmarole of lies. I nearly asked him so—for there are times when a brutal frontal attack is the best policy—but I judged it better to let him think he had fooled us. Well. That does changes things. I'm joining Holmes now in wondering what that unpleasant american is up to

It was twilight of a lovely spring evening, and even Little Ryder Street, one of the smaller offshoots from the Edgware Road, within a stone-cast of old Tyburn Tree of evil memory, looked golden and wonderful in the slanting rays of the setting sun. I think I read about this place. An execution site, if I remember it correctly. *googles* Yes, it was a gallows. From marble-arch.londen:

It is impossible to know exactly what form the original took as there are so few written reports. In fact, during their first hundred years from 1177 to 1273, only eight single executions were deemed interesting enough to make note of.

But we do know that in 1571 a permanent triangular frame was erected – a mammoth structure that could, and sometimes did, hang up to 24 people at a time. The Tyburn Tree was of such renown it is even mentioned in Shakespeare’s Love’s Labour’s Lost: “Thou mak’st the triumviry, the corner-cap of society, The shape of Love’s Tyburn, that hangs up simplicity.”

Many met their end here. Records from the 1570s alone report that 704 felons were sentenced to be hanged there throughout the decade, for crimes ranging from murder to stealing cattle. Finally taken down in 1759 (presumably due to wear and tear), the structure was eventually replaced by a gallows that could be easily erected and dismantled each time. A gruesome early iteration of the London ‘pop-up’.

The last execution upon the tree was that of robber John Austin in 1783. The new place of execution became Newgate Prison. Today, a circular plaque embedded into the pavement on a traffic island at the entry to Edgware Road marks the spot of the Tyburn Tree

The house had a common stair, and there were a number of names painted in the hall some indicating offices and some private chambers. It was not a collection of residential flats, but rather the abode of Bohemian bachelors. Didn't bohemian bachelors have some queer connotations? Sometimes I read so much I get it all confused. Damn, if I'm distracted by research all the time I'm not going to finish this letter before bedtime. Still going to do that *10 minutes later* I can't find much at the moment, save the definition in the Urban dictionairy, which I'm def not going to type here. Anyone who knows more?

The room was as curious as its occupant. It looked like a small museum. It was both broad and deep, with cupboards and cabinets all round, crowded with specimens, geological and anatomical. Cases of butterflies and moths flanked each side of the entrance. A large table in the centre was littered with all sorts of debris, while the tall brass tube of a powerful microscope bristled up amongst them. As I glanced round I was surprised at the universality of the man's interests. Holmes will love this place

But you are a Britisher with solid references, and he is bound to take notice of what you say. I would go with you if you wished, but I have a very busy day to-morrow, and I could always follow you if you are in any trouble." The American fellow is unavailable for the very thing he claims to have come to England for? Sounds like an elaborate ploy to get this mr. Nathan out of the way for a while. Little clue as to why yet. I assume he wants something that the man has?

“I wish I could look over your collection, Mr. Garrideb,” said he. “In my profession all sorts of odd knowledge comes useful, and this room of yours is a storehouse of it.” Our client shone with pleasure and his eyes gleamed from behind his big glasses. “I had always heard, sir, that you were a very intelligent man,” said he. “I could take you round now if you have the time.” “Unfortunately, I have not. But these specimens are so well labelled and classified that they hardly need your personal explanation. If I should be able to look in to-morrow, I presume that there would be no objection to my glancing over them?” Holmes def has his suspicions and is not leaving the collection unguarded. Excited to learn how this will turn out

By the way, who is your house-agent?” Our client was amazed at the sudden question. “Holloway and Steele, in the Edgware Road. But why?” I should go to sleep. I was convinced this was the adress of the American, but instead Watson just mentioned that street as he and Holmes walked past

“This is a more serious matter than I had expected, Watson,” said he. “It is fair to tell you so, though I know it will only be an additional reason to you for running your head into danger. I should know my Watson by now. Holmes has finally accepted that Watson would never let him go into danger alone. This is so cute

I have identified Mr. John Garrideb, Counsellor at Law. He is none other than ‘Killer’ Evans, of sinister and murderous reputation.” “I fear I am none the wiser.” “Ah, it is not part of your profession to carry about a portable Newgate Calendar in your memory. Plot twist! Also, how funny it is of Holmes to acknowledge that it is not really Normal to memorize entire lists of prisoners

I'll give you an hour for a siesta, Watson, and then I think it will be time for our Ryder Street adventure.” Since when does Watson get to have siesta's? I'm jealous

So these two are stuck behind a cupboard instead of a curtain this time. Fun times!

Then my friend's wiry arms were round me, and he was leading me to a chair. “You're not hurt, Watson? For God's sake, say that you are not hurt!” It was worth a wound—it was worth many wounds—to know the depth of loyalty and love which lay behind that cold mask. The clear, hard eyes were dimmed for a moment, and the firm lips were shaking. For the one and only time I caught a glimpse of a great heart as well as of a great brain. All my years of humble but single-minded service culminated in that moment of revelation. “It's nothing, Holmes. It's a mere scratch.” He had ripped up my trousers with his pocket-knife. “You are right,” he cried with an immense sigh of relief. “It is quite superficial.” His face set like flint as he glared at our prisoner, who was sitting up with a dazed face. “By the Lord, it is as well for you. If you had killed Watson, you would not have got out of this room alive. Ok not so fun times. Although Watson seems 100% fine with it. I've seen this scene quoted several times already, but didn't know it was from this case. This is some quality hurt/comfort. It has blood, desperation, removed clothing, and an excellent threat as the cherry on top. Brilliant

those bundles on the table are two thousand of Prescott's notes worth a hundred each and fit to pass anywhere. Help yourselves, gentlemen. Call it a deal and let me beat it.” Holmes laughed. “We don't do things like that, Mr. Evans. There is no bolt-hole for you in this country. Loving the implication that US is lawless territory

Well this was a fun case. Such a complicated ploy to get one old man out of his house, and some great Holmes/Watson interaction. I really need some sleep now