#I don’t really know how to tag this lol

[passionartx]

Mini Health/life update!:

Just wanted to drop a lil update cause I’ve been mega mia! At the end of September/start of October I ended up being hospitalised for about a week due to getting a pretty bad case of pneumonia. Was a really scary time but I luckily got through it but am still undergoing tests to montier recovery and am dealing with knock on effects from my other chronic health issues.

Against all odds I luckily still managed to play Dorothy in the production of Wizard Of Oz I was in and since then and have been trying to catch up with university and get through other irl home and mental/physical health issues. (And a power outage and rat infestation… I’m starting to get how tails feels when we all put him through horrific events for angst).

I can’t express how much people’s support and patience has meant to me and while I’m not 100% back I really hope I can get back on tumblr a bit more soon cause I love and miss the bros and everyone on here so much! 💛💛💛

I really hope you’ve all been well and will try and get back to everyone soon! 🫂

It’s my birthday this coming Wednesday and if one more crazy life event happens to me before then I think I’m actually gonna go insane lol.

[bizarrelittlemew]

hello ida!! I love your gifs and I find the info and resources you share really helpful, especially in terms of gifmaking. I was wondering if you would mind sharing what the correct etiquette is for when we spot a stolen/uncredited gif come across our tumblr dashboard? I don’t like/reblog posts if I suspect the gif is stolen, but I wasn’t sure if there’s something more you (or gifmakers in general) wish people would do to help.

if you can’t or don’t want to answer this that’s completely fine! just if you had any tips :))). thank you for all the gifs you make for us!! x

hi anon thank you for this lovely message and great question!!

first, some tips for spotting when gifs are stolen/uncredited: (it sounds like you already know this anon but i've been asked before so i might as well include it)

if the post has several gifs and they are different sizes/dimensions - this is the easiest one perhaps. gif makers usually put effort into layout. if the gifs are weirdly cut off because they're not the same height, it's definitely suspicious

if the gifs are different quality - some grainy and/or choppy, some crisp and smooth

if the gifs use different fonts for subtitles

if the gif(s) are posted alongside unedited stills/screencaps

this is more difficult, but if the coloring styles of the gifs are different. things to look for are: saturation/vibrancy, the amount of contrast/light, the colors of the shadows, whether a particular color is very prominent/emphasized

if it's an account you don't know makes their own gifs and they suddenly post some, or if they post a lot of gifs that fit the above and from many different scenes

obviously, if the gif is watermarked with a different username that OP has never used, or if they say something like "i found this gif" or "someone posted this gif to discord"

if you actually recognize the gif(s) and know that it's made by somebody else/from a different post

these are just some things to look out for. if i see some of these signs, i usually investigate: does OP usually post gifs that you know are their own? do they have something on their blog stating they make them (like e.g. a link to their gif tag, or if it's mentioned in their bio)? of course, if it's one of the very obvious signs, like i recognize my own or a friend's gif, and it's uncredited, then it's directly to...

what to do when you spot a stolen/uncredited gif: (aka your actual question anon <3)

this is unfortunately a little more difficult since you can't control how people react to being called out for not crediting properly. luckily, most people just genuinely don't know how much work goes into giffing (i wrote a little more about this here) - they will usually be receptive and add credit to the post. but some people will be dicks no matter how kindly or even just neutrally you go about it. just remember they are the ones breaking etiquette, not you.

anyway, some things you can do if you spot a post with stolen gifs are:

don't like or reblog (as you already mentioned) - in order to not spread the uncredited version further

in a reply, ask for the source of the gif to be added to the main post. i usually mention that making gifs takes work and skill, and seeing them reposted (re-uploading to a new post, not reblogged) without credit is incredibly demotivating for the people who spend their time making them (or some variation of this)

that said, what i have sometimes done is reblog with the addition of a link to the original post(s) and asking them to not steal gifs in the future. but this is mostly when it's my own gif(s) lol

i sometimes link @saltpepperbeard's excellent post about giving proper credit

i hope this is useful/helpful and again thank you for asking <3 i'm always happy to answer questions about gifs!! 🫶

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Finally we’ve got the season two AUs!

🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️ (this one is so much fun!! First of all I was so completely entertained with Buck and Eddie misunderstanding each other. It was so funny! Also loving reading about trans-Eddie and his backstory! It works really well as an exploration of his character and I’m really enjoying it. And mermaid Buck who just was reminded of the word merman 😂 Love me some unexplained plot-developing magic and can’t wait to see this one play out!)

🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼 (okay I know this one is technically very much in season three territory but it all stems from an AU season two so I’m counting it :p So excited to meet baby Jane!! And loving that established Buddie and can’t wait to see everything play out with Shannon!)

🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟(lol it took me a bit to remember that this one is also technically an AU of season two because of just how alternate that universe is. I can’t believe this one’s almost done! I’ve absolutely adored it! Such a wonderful fire fam story that I’ve loved so much! Very excited to see it all wrapped up in the epilogue!)

I hope you have fun writing Cal! I’ll definitely be having fun reading!

- PCA <3

HI PCA!!! Thanks for sending in more <3

I am going to start with this one because I am hoping to finish zombie fic soon and this is my only request for it. So thank you!

84 for 🧜‍♂️ (Ah yay thank you!!!!! This one has been SO fun to write):

tagging @steadfastsaturnsrings

---

Eddie can tell this is sort of a sore subject for Buck, and changes topic. 

“So what are you looking for?” Eddie asks. 

“I’m not too picky,” Buck shrugs. “Just not further away from the ocean than I already am. And, uh… I don’t know. Something between the fire station and you would be nice.”

“Between the fire station and me?” Eddie asks. 

“Yeah,” Buck shrugs, cheeks heating a little. “I mean, I’m sort of here all the time, anyway. Might as well cut down the commute.”

Eddie smiles. “Okay, then. Let’s narrow down the search range.”

A bit later, Buck brings them each a coffee from the kitchen, sleeve riding up on his wrist as he hands a mug to Eddie. Eddie looks at the clear skin of his arm, curious. Fair enough. There had been a lot of bruising and scratches there yesterday. The result of trying to rescue a terrified dog from a house fire. 

“Went for a swim last night,” Buck says, shrugging. 

“And it healed you?” Eddie asks. “Just like that?”

“Yeah,” Buck shrugs. “It always erases minor stuff. Haven’t encountered anything bigger though, so I don’t know how far it goes.”

“That’s pretty sick,” Eddie admits. 

“Doesn’t work on a hangover,” Buck grumbles. 

“Maybe the ocean knew you deserved it,” Eddie laughs. 

Hell, maybe it did. 

🌊

A few weeks later, Buck is moving into a ground floor unit in a building between work and Eddie. A bit closer to Eddie, just based on pricing. There were two units available in the building. The second floor walk up was a bit cheaper - not hugely, but enough to consider it - but when Buck thinks about who really comes over, beyond his sister, it’ll be Eddie and Chris. And the ground floor would be way easier for Chris. So that’s what he chose. 

He doesn’t tell Eddie this. Just makes the decision. But the first day he’s moved in, with proper furniture that he actually owns, he has them over for pizza and video games, and he knows he’s made the right choice. 

Unfortunately, he doesn’t get to enjoy the new apartment for very long. Sooner rather than later, the world sort of ends. There’s a bank heist, which the 118 is framed for. Buck is terrified, being a suspect. Dragged down for interrogation. What if they do some sort of test on him that reveals what he is? Eddie looks sort of sick too. Probably not for dissimilar reasons. Just wildly different results. 

The 118 is cleared. But Bobby is not. Or at least, he’s cleared of the robbery, but he’s still under suspicion. The LAFD is looking into his past. Poking around at all his trauma; the loss of his family, rehab, all of it. Buck doesn’t think it’s fair. Doesn’t think it’s any of their business. 

Apparently it is.

Bobby is put on suspension pending the results of the inquest. Chimney is made acting captain. And it all sort of overlaps with a disaster. Or, rather, many repeated disasters. Serial disasters. A package bomber. The city is sort of in collective panic. 

Buck is concerned, of course. But not really about anyone he knows. Not at first. At first, the people being targeted seem to be all too wealthy for him or the people he loves to fit the pattern. A judge, an attorney, etcetera. But then a package is discovered at Athena’s house, and even though no one is hurt, Buck can’t help but feel sick about it. Her son discovered it; her child. Bobby could have been there. Bobby. The thought of Bobby being hurt makes him want to writhe. Stresses him so badly he can feel the phantom sensation of scales running up his spine. He knows Bobby is fine. That he wasn’t even there. But he still feels physically ill. 

He doesn’t have long to feel sick about it, though. He doesn’t have long to feel anything but panic and pain for very long. Because the next victim of the package bomber, as it turns out, is him. 

---

57for 🔼 (It definitely started in S2 so you're right! And yay! Thank you!!!)

---

That makes him freak out. Or at least the possibility of missing it. Not that Buck can blame him. She’s not even Buck’s kid and he sort of feels like if he wasn’t trying to keep Eddie calm, he’d be freaking out a tiny bit, too. 

It’s not all bad freaking out. Some of it is positive. He’s a bit like a yoyo. 

“We’re really going to meet her,” Eddie says, excitedly to start. “She’s really going to be here.”

“She is,” Buck grins in response. 

A few minutes later, as traffic seems to plunge into doom territory, Eddie is filled with despair. 

“I made it home from Afghanistan to be there when Chris was born,” he laments. “Afghanistan, Buck! That’s three continents of travel. I had a half day layover in Germany. I still made it home in time. But now I won’t make it across town for Jane?”

Oh boy.

“Eddie, you’ll make it in time,” Buck promises, willing himself to be right. “You’ll definitely make it. I will turn on the siren, I swear.”

“That’s technically not allowed, Buck, I-”

“I’m the one driving,” Buck shrugs, and turns it on. 

Immediately, cars start moving out of the way.

“Okay,” Eddie sighs, fitting a headset over his ears. “Alright, good idea.”

“Told you I got you,” Buck smiles.

“I feel like I’m going to puke,” Eddie admits. 

“Well, don’t do that. It’ll delay us,” Buck teases. 

Eddie just groans. 

◀️

Shannon really can’t believe Eddie is going to miss this. If she wasn’t currently experiencing active labor - a much more active labor than her previous experience - she might not be so pissed about it. She understands he was out there, on a call, saving people. Which is good. She won’t die without him, but the people out there in accidents sure might. Whatever. But he should be here. He promised he’d be here every step of the way, and this is a pretty big step. Also, he did this to her. He should at least be here to have his hand crushed and to be snapped at. 

“He’s on his way, okay?” Maddie promises. “He’s rushing over.”

Not fast enough. 

Not fast enough, because the last time she was checked out, she was told she’s almost ready to start pushing. And even though last time she was told she could start pushing, it took hours and ended in forceps, she’s been assured this is progressing fast and easy. There is nothing easy about it, thank you. But she believes the fast part. She can already just tell, compared to Chris. Their daughter is eager to make an entrance. Which is fine with Shannon. It’s the opposite of what she’d feared. 

She just needs Eddie to be here for it. 

Shannon’s worried. She’s sad at the prospect of him missing it, mostly for him. But she’s also in a lot of pain, which turns all that to frustration.

“If he’s not here,” she tells Maddie. “I’ll kill him.”

---

66 for 🧟 (THANK YOU! I am very excited to wrap it up)

---

 It wakes her, but slowly. Sunlight warms her face. The other thing warming her is Chimney. He draped over her middle. His chest against her back. She feels completely at ease, right here. 

Sometimes Maddie has a habit of gaslighting herself a little. Her brain intrusively suggests she shouldn’t trust her instincts. That they were her problem to begin with; the reason she got hurt. That if she’d been smarter, she would have avoided it. And maybe she’s not being smart now. She’d thought that when she got in the truck with Eddie. She thought that when she started getting closer to Chimney. She’s fighting off thinking about it today. It’s just not true. Every decision she has made has kept her alive. 

When the sun eventually wakes Chimney, too, she feels him take a deep breath, then lean forward to kiss the back of her head. She smiles, pleased.

“Good morning,” she says quietly. 

“Yeah,” Chim replies. “A really good one.”

Maddie’s smile widens. There’s a lot to like about Chimney. So much. But one of the things she thinks she appreciates most is how he makes her feel good without being overly complimentary. None of it feels like attempted flattery, or trying to butter her up. He’s completely just sincere with her, in whatever he says. Another reason to trust him. She can recognize now how a lifetime of her parents’ criticism left her vulnerable to Doug piling on empty compliments. How that led to a frantic need to please him again when they went away. 

Maddie is stronger than that now. She survived the outbreak. She escaped the husband who would have kept her trapped in hell, and then killed him when he would have killed her. She made it across the country, found her brother. She learned how to survive, how to fight against threats she would have never expected a year ago. She helped make bombs to defend against a home she would have never expected, either. 

So Maddie feels safe now, more often than not. Even when her brain tries to fight her on it. Even when she’s scared. She’s safe. 

She rolls over in bed and looks at Chim. He takes a deep breath.

“Hi,” he mutters.

“Hi,” she replies. “Thank you.”

He gives her a funny, confused smile.

“For what?”

She shrugs a little. “I don’t know. For being here when I showed up?”

His cheeks redden a little. “Well, uh… Thank you for showing up.” 

She laughs brightly. “Anytime.”

And when Chim kisses her again, something inside Maddie just feels entirely, perfectly settled. 

October 11th, 2018

They’d expected Shannon and Taylor to come back around this time. They’d said monthly visits for Shannon and Chris at a minimum. More if they could help it. And Shannon wasn’t going to travel alone. Not while Taylor was around. Hen still wonders if Shannon knows Taylor is in love with her. 

What they’re not expecting is for Shannon and Taylor to show up with a child. A child that wasn’t mentioned last time. A little girl. 

[pedrosgrogu]

Born Too Late - Chapter 8

pairing/au: neighbor!joel x reader // no outbreak

Chapter 7 - Chapter 9 - Masterlist

Warnings: MDNI!! female masturbation, lots of angst, loss of parents mentioned, family issues, lots of tears

Summary: You prepare for Thanksgiving with Tommy and he catches you at an emotional point. Thats what friends are for, right? (1.2k+)

a/n: ok idk how this is gonna go over with yall but be gentle because this came to me in a dream, and through validation from @smellslikenevermore. i really dont have much else to say bc this shit is about to get juicy so buckle the fuck up. leave feedback, i rely on strangers validation because im not normal. xoxox

p.s. there will be another chapter posted at some point today, i just didnt want this one to be like 4k words lol.

Your phone rings, jolting you awake. You spit out a groggy “Hello?”. “Hey pretty lady” soft and southern, it warms you like a physical embrace. “Tommy. It is so early.” you say, rolling over and looking at the clock. “I know but I’ve gotta run to the store to grab some stuff for tomorrow, and wanted to beat the crowds. I was gonna see if you wanted to tag along.” You sigh, throwing the blankets off. “Sarah’s gonna come too if that makes it any more enticing.” he says, laughing.  “Yeah why not, give me about 20 minutes and I’ll be over.” 

You open your curtains, just like you do at the begining of every day. Joel’s are still closed, and have been for weeks now. You remember the first night you moved in and how both of your windows were the focal point of the evening. You walk into your bathroom and turn the shower on, extra hot. The steam filling the room makes you sweat, reminding you of your nights with Joel. Sweaty and suffocating. You strip down and walk to your bedside table, pulling out your vibrator. The numbing vibration on your clit makes you cum almost immediately, and the only noise heard is Joel’s name. Over and over. You cant seem to stop yourself, the relief each time better than the last. Imagining the way his fingers fit perfectly inside you, how his teeth left every inch of your skin nipped with passion, how his voice talked you through every step. Time has stopped and the shower is no longer steaming into your room. Your release on the horizon, you’re seeing stars and imagining every position Joel could put you in- KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. And its gone. As quickly as it came, its gone. You throw your toy in frustration, and throw a robe on. You make your way to the door, opening it to see Tommy and Sarah. “Woah lady!” Tommy says, shielding his eyes. “You said 20 minutes 30 minutes ago, what the hell have you been doin? I tried to call!” he says, making Sarah laugh. “Just wait on the couch. Ill be out in 10.” You say, closing the door behind them and walking to your room. You dont remember hearing your phone ring but then again, you were on a different planet, and time was non-existent. 

Piled into Tommys truck, the 3 of you head to H-E-B. “Alright, I’ve gotta get some beer, some celery, and some bread for the stuffing.” You throw your head in Tommys direction, with a look of playful disgust. “Tommy Miller, how is it the day before Thanksgiving and you dont have the main ingredient for stuffing?” you retort, giving him a light slap on the arm. “Listen, I don’t do the shoppin, blame my brother.” he says. You turn around, looking at Sarah. “And what did you forget?” you say smiling. “I wanted to make chocolate covered strawberries so chocolate and strawberries!” She says excitedly. “That sounds good Sarah! Let me know if you need any help.”  You write 2 lists, handing one to Tommy and keeping one for yourself. He’s in charge of beer and non-perishables. You’re in charge of perishables and wine.

In the store you both grab carts, and go in your separate directions. You grab Sarahs strawberries, Tommys celery, and sweet potatoes for yourself. If theres on thing you can cook, its a mean sweet potato casserole. You head to the alcohol aisle and meet up with Tommy, checking off both your lists. You grab 4 bottles of wine, 2 reds and 2 whites. “Does Joel even know Im coming?” you ask Tommy, watching Sarah grab marshmallows off the endcap a few feet in front of you. “Yeah, I told him.” Tommy says, not saying anything else. You’re trying to gauge his facial expression surrounding the question. “What did he-” “I got the marshmallows!” Sarah says, throwing them into the cart. You leave your sentence unfinished, checking off the rest of the list. 

The ride back is silent, Tommy keeps looking at you like he has something to say but he doesnt. You try not to think about tomorrow, unsure of if being alone is worse than being around Joel. Tears begin to well in your eyes right as you turn onto your street. You force them to stay put, helping Tommy unload the groceries. You help carry everything in with the exception of your things for tomorrow. Walking into the house, you’re immediately paralyzed by the smell, by his  smell. Sarah runs past you, into his arms. “Hi daddy! We went to the store and we got the stuff for my strawberries!” “Thats great babygirl.” he says, kissing her forehead. The tears are back, and theres no forcing them away this time. Your brain is flooded with images of childhood holidays with your family, back when everything was seemingly normal and everyone got along. You feel a tear fall down your cheek as you set the groceries on the island. The same island that he ravaged you on. You look up at him, hoping for any hint of how hes feeling, hoping he’ll pull you into him and wipe your tears, and tell you that everything is okay. But his facial expression is stoic, and he doesn’t move. No sign of any emotion. You wipe your tears and head straight for the door. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow!” you exclaim, trying to hide the pain in your voice. Pulling the door behind you before anything else is said. 

You grab your groceries out of the back of Tommys truck and trudge home. You fucking hate the holidays, they havent been the same in years. You turn the key to open your door, and feel a hand on your shoulder. “Sweet girl, whats goin’ on?” and you lose it. 

You drop the groceries and throw yourself into Tommys arms, sobbing uncontrollably. You hear the glass of the wine bottles shatter. “Shhhhh” he says, one hand holding your head, the other rubbing your back. After a couple minutes, you gather yourself and walk inside, leaving the broken glass on your porch and the groceries on the floor inside the door. 

“The holidays are just hard Tommy.” you say, sniffling. Hes in your kitchen putting groceries away. “Trust me, I know. I aint had a mama or daddy to spend the holidays with the last 10 years. And then Connie and Sarah came along, and then Connie left.” You dont say anything, but assume Connie is Sarahs mom. This is the first time either of the men have spoke about her, at least in front of you. You elaborate on your family as well. About how your father in convinced that your ex was the second coming of Christ, and was the best thing that had ever happened to you. About how it was his way or the highway. About his patriarchal ways in the goddamn 21st century. He sits beside you and just holds you again. Your tears slowly stop, but the feeling of sadness and emptiness still resides. You look up at Tommy and hes staring through you. His eyes a deep brown like his brothers, and before you know it his lips are on yours. And you dont pull away.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

@zepskies

I’m not going to lie I can’t really remember that far back either lmao… BUT I’M SO EXCITED YOU DID TAG ME BECAUSE THIS WAS MARVELOUS 😍

Accurate depiction of me the whole time I read this:

Apparently, he couldn’t be bothered to put those meaty man muscles to good use, aside from shoveling three helpings into his mouth.

I love this line so much. And I LOVE how passive aggressive the reader is. It's so believable and I would 10000000% be so mad if I slaved away cooking a nice meal and then he didn't help me clean up. She's really saying what we're all thinking.

But... it is SOOOO Ben lol.

Ben’s voice washed over you, deep and still a little rough with sleep as he stepped into the kitchen. His old man loafers slid against the floor with every step when he approached you from behind, and his heavy hands found a familiar resting place on the curve of your waist.

"His old man loafers..." LMAO 🤣

“Hey,” he said, “since you’re already up and about in here, how about some breakf—”

“Okay, okay. It’s a little early for all this Latina temper, don’tcha think?” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Your gaze snapped up at him with a glare.

OHHH NOOO NOT THE DEMEANING/PLACATING FOREHEAD KISS! HE GONNA LEARN TODAY👏🏻!

“I love you,” you repeated, “but I don’t need a man-child.” "Excuse me?" he did snap this time, his hold loosening from around your waist. "The fuck did you just say?" You narrowed your eyes right back at him. "You heard me," you said. "I want a man. A man who's going to be my rock when I need him. Can you do that for me, like I do for you? Are you gonna be my man, or do I need to claim you as a dependent on my taxes?"

The other day I heard someone at work say that when she first started dating her boyfriend she told him outright that she didn't need him, but she wanted him and that he should know the difference. That she didn't need him in her life because she was okay the way she was and that she was a strong independent woman, but she wanted him there and he would stay as long as she wanted him there. Sorry, that's a tangent, but that is what this bit reminded me of. I love how you wrote it in, it is really good and honest, and I'm glad that the reader can come outright and say it.

Plus I was cackling at the "dependent on my taxes" thing. And then it made me think if Ben has ever done his own taxes and what it would look like lol.

Ben did you the favor of brushing the thick curls away from your eyes, tugging several strands behind your ears, even though most of them didn’t obey him. He framed your face with his big hands, and his thumbs swept along your skin, the rich complexion shining in the morning light filtering through the kitchen window. There was more care in his touch now, his strength tempered just for you. Fond amusement colored his features. For as much shit as you gave him, you still gave him more of yourself; more of your trust, your patience...and all the rest of it. You gave him more than anyone that had come before you, and deep inside, he doubted anyone that might come after you.

Oh goodness, I'm a sucker for the little softer moments with Ben. We see so few of them on the show and I think that it makes some people believe that Ben can't be gentle in his own way. But I really do believe that Ben isn't just some macho asshole who can't have emotions or feelings and who can't be gentle with the woman he loves. He has those feelings and he's not just some jerk. He can do those things, it might look a little different and it might take him a little longer to get there, but this is just so good. Especially when he untangles the shirt from her hair!

And oh my word the bit about the reader giving more to him than anyone ever has, is making me cry. NOT to mention when he says the "he doubted anyone that might come after you." Is just heart-wrenching! Because I know that we've talked in the past about giving Ben a partner that can live longer, but goodness it's still just so heartbreaking to think that Ben is going to live on longer than the reader and have to live with her memory forever.

And the spice was:

BUT. I really liked this bit:

“Didn’t think you wanted to be fucked on some cold tile,” he said, even if the sentiment behind his words warmed you. You were pretty sure he didn’t used to care about that. At least, before he met you.

Because the way the reader realizes how much he cares about her comfort, and the suggestion that he hadn't cared about that in the past is just BEAUTIFUL. I think that it has to be true for Ben! Because yeah he's gotten around... and around... like a merry go round on steroids LMAO, but I think that if he's with someone he really cares about and loves, Ben would care how comfortable his partner is. I believe that he would be checking in. I mean the guy probably hates the words "make love" but he does it in his own way.

Oh this fic was good as always my wonderful friend! I'm so happy you tagged me 🥰! And I can't wait to read more of this couple in your series "Unravel Me!" 💗

Lost in Translation

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Female POC!Reader

Summary: Living with this man isn’t easy, and you’ve absolutely had it with him. Supe or not, you’re one step shy of kicking him out. Will he try to make it up to you? 

AN: So after getting requests for a Soldier Boy x POC!Reader, I’ve had a short series in development called Unravel Me. I’m a bit stalled on the outline right now, so I thought this could be a fun way to introduce their relationship and see if you guys think I should continue with the prequel, kind of like how I did with Checkerboard and the Break Me Down-verse.

This story would take place after Unravel Me, after a fair bit of character development lol. It also fulfills a bingo square for @jacklesversebingo!

Prompt: “Whatever you’re going to ask, the answer is No!”

Song Inspo: “Damage” by H.E.R.

Word Count: 3.4K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, bit of dirty talk, fingering, edging, some angst, fluff and feels. The reader is a mixed race POC (Afro Latina), with textured hair. 

The apartment was quiet, but not peaceful.

You were in the kitchen washing the Mt. Everest of dishes piled in the sink, partly because someone hadn’t rinsed off his own plate of carne guisada.

Ben had asked for beef for dinner yesterday, and you’d graciously delivered with your grandmother’s recipe for the stew. It was filled with chunks of tender, fall-off-your-fork beef, garlic, onions, carrots, and more—all marinated to perfection, if you said so yourself. You even added in some little yellow potatoes, both for taste and texture.

Apparently, he couldn’t be bothered to put those meaty man muscles to good use, aside from shoveling three helpings into his mouth.

A bottomless pit and a freakin’ man-child, I swear to God, you inwardly groused as you scrubbed the ceramic a bit too hard with the rough side of the sponge. No matter how many times you asked, nicely, it seemed your boyfriend couldn’t manage to pull his weight around here.

Okay, you knew his job could be demanding, but so was yours.

What the hell is this, Maid in Manhattan? Newsflash: I’ve got shit to do too! 

“And I cooked!” you muttered in indignation. That reminder propelled you to scrub a bit harder. The least he could do was clean the kitchen. Or take out the trash. Or toss the laundry into the washing machine once in a while. Like you really wanted to handle his dirty boxers all the damn time.

Did he have no shame? Couldn’t he do anything for you without you having to ask him three million times?

Es que él es bruto, mija, as your Dominican grandma would say about your grandpa, often while swiping a tired hand over her long braids. Es como un animal con ropa.

Just then, you heard his heavy steps creaking on the wood floors in your bedroom. Today was his day off, so he was probably taking his sweet time rolling his ass out of bed.

Meanwhile, you were hustling to get the place at least decently clean before you got yourself together for work. The thought made you simmer as you continued to place dishes on the counter rack. Each one clacking to rest was satisfying, but it also ticked up your internal dial to a fine boil. 

You heard him bang the bathroom door open and cringed internally, your teeth grinding. You’d reminded him three times already about the neighbors and the noise.

Sabes que, supe or not, I’m about to— 

“Morning, sweetheart.”

Ben’s voice washed over you, deep and still a little rough with sleep as he stepped into the kitchen. His old man loafers slid against the floor with every step when he approached you from behind, and his heavy hands found a familiar resting place on the curve of your waist.

He swiped your slightly wild curls to the side and pressed a tantalizing kiss into your neck. His voice, his touch, the brief scrape of his beard; it all caused a small shiver of delight up your spine.

“Hmm, you smell good. Good enough to eat.” And he teased you with the graze of his teeth, biting gently enough where your neck met your shoulder. You flinched with half a huff, trying not to smile. 

Just like that, it took the edge off your irritation…a little. You opened your mouth to reply, but before you could…

“Hey,” he said, “since you’re already up and about in here, how about some breakf—”

Your spine tightened once again.

“Whatever you’re going to ask, the answer is No!” you snapped. You moved out of his arms to grab a hand towel to dry your hands with. They were all pruny from washing dishes.

“I’m already running late. Why? Because this place is a fucking mess, and the only one who seems to care is me!” you exclaimed. First, you gestured to the dishes now drying on the rack. “Hmm?”

You then opened up the lid to the full-to-bursting trashcan. “What do you call that, huh? You said you’d take this out last night. After I asked you twice. What, was I not speaking English? Did something get lost in translation, or are you already losing your hearing? Just let me know, ‘cause I can sure as hell crank up the volume for you!”

Ben raised a brow. You read his thoughts in his surly frown. You have some fucking audacity, talking to him like that, but it’s still early. He hasn’t even had his coffee, for Christ’s sake.

If he was more awake, no doubt he’d be barking back at you. Instead, he heaved a sigh, drew closer to you and shut the trashcan lid. At least there was one lid he knew how to close.

“All right, it’s just a little mess. No need to get fucking hysterical,” he said, trying to grasp your arm to placate you. You shrugged out of his hold and crossed your arms in anger.

“Ben, it’s not just a little mess. And what is this, 1945? I’m not hysterical!”

His lips twitched at a smirk, making you even angrier. But he’d caught enough smoke from you in the past to know he didn’t want it at 8:00 in the morning. He grasped your arms and rubbed them up and down, trying to sooth you.

“Okay, okay. It’s a little early for all this Latina temper, don’tcha think?” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Your gaze snapped up at him with a glare.

Oooh, this man. He knew how to get you mad fucking tight.

Not in a good way.

Instead of exploding like Mount Fuji, you kept it all under your skin. You turned away from him and aimed to continue getting ready for work, but first, you took out a Greek yogurt from the fridge and wholly ignored him taking up space in the kitchen. You wouldn’t answer him when he called your name. In fact, you were going to give him the most frigid of cold shoulders—so cold he’d get hyperthermia through that invulnerable skin.

He waylaid your plans when he grabbed your hand, swinging you back into his arms. You gasped at the suddenness of it, looking up into his cocky, charming smile. You couldn’t stare too long at his green eyes, or the rest of his handsome, bearded face. Not when he knew exactly how to use it against you.

“Don’t think that’s gonna get you out of this,” you warned him. You set your yogurt on the kitchen counter and pushed at his chest, but it was no more effective than pushing at a mountain and expecting it to move.

His hands spanned your waist, his fingers beginning to press into your soft sides. He bowed his head, brushing his lips against your neck and the shell of your ear when he said, “Out of what, baby doll? Looks to me like we can still have a good morning.”

His voice once against trilled heat and tingles through your body, but you managed to lean back, holding the pads of your fingers to his lips.

“Hey, I’m not playing around here. If we’re gonna do this,” you pointed between him and yourself, “then let me make one thing really clear. I’m not la sirvienta around here, okay? I’m not your fucking maid. I’m your girl. Your partner. And since you live here now, I’m gonna need you to do your part.”

Ben almost rolled his eyes, but you grasped his chin. He frowned at you with furrowed brows. There was a time where he would've been inclined to grab your wrist and try to intimidate you with his temper. You saw it lying in wait behind his pursed lips and irritated stare, but you weren't afraid of him. Not anymore.

“Listen to me. I get that you haven’t lived like us commoners for most of your life, but this stuff is important,” you said. You took a deep breath, and you counted to three. You met him with a calmer gaze. “Ben, I love you.”

You let go of his chin and lowered your hand, letting it splay over his chest. He softened, ever so slightly, even though his frown remained.

“I love you,” you repeated, “but I don’t need a man-child.”

"Excuse me?" he did snap this time, his hold loosening from around your waist. "The fuck did you just say?"

You narrowed your eyes right back at him.

"You heard me," you said. "I want a man. A man who's going to be my rock when I need him. Can you do that for me, like I do for you? Are you gonna be my man, or do I need to claim you as a dependent on my taxes?"

His expression sharpened again at your thinly veiled accusation…but the longer he looked into your eyes, no longer angry, but earnest and imploring, the more he actually listened to what you were saying. His jaw worked for a moment in annoyance. You subtly softened him with your hands soothing up and down his arms, a slow back and forth over solid, warm muscle.

Eventually, he was able to curb his instinct to bark a callous reply. He nodded, expelling a breath through his nose.

“Fine,” he said.

Your brows rose. “Fine?”

“Yeah,” he said flatly.

You knew it was the closest you were going to get to an agreement, as well as an apology. You were still working on that last one, but dating this man was a work in progress, for both of you. With a sigh, you patted his arms that were slowly wrapping back around you.

“Okay, I’m really running late now,” you said.

“You should probably get a move on then,” Ben said.

Still, he didn’t release you. He stared down at you with an amused smile while you struggled against his hold. You uttered a laugh.

“Babe, I need to get to work.” You leaned over and spied the oven clock. “Oh, shit! it’s almost 8:30! If I’m not there by 9:00—”

“You sure you want to go now? Tense, body all tight,” he said, his voice deep with sensuous suggestion.

His lips neared yours, but he didn’t kiss you. Not yet. His lips veered away to brush against your cheek. He inhaled deeply as he moved, taking in the floral scent of your soap, mixed with the army of products you styled your hair with, and the faint imprint of your perfume from the night before. He skimmed down your neck and along the shell of your ear.

“Wouldn’t you rather I fuck all that tension right out of you?” he offered. “Leave you nice and warm and satisfied, have that pretty pussy coming hard on my cock.”

You let out a shaky breath, closing your eyes as his filthy mouth and the timbre of his voice struck a chord through your body, tinging warm arousal between your legs. Your fingers tightened on his strong arms, digging into the fabric of his loose robe. Ben took that as a wordless confirmation. He bent at the knees and grabbed you up by your plush thighs. You wrapped your arms around his neck on instinct, with a small gasp.

But you recovered quickly. Taking his face into your hands, you met his lips roughly with yours in a devouring kiss. He set you down on the kitchen counter hard enough to make the clean dishes rattle. His hands were just as claiming as his mouth, squeezing your hips and thighs as he spread them open to make more room for himself.

While your tongue dueled with his, you shoved the robe off his shoulders, followed by his sleep shirt pooling to the floor. His hand slid under your top as well, and almost ripped it at the hem in his haste to get it up and over your head.

“Ow, ah-ow!” You giggled when the collar got caught on your hair. Ben’s breathy chuckle reached your ears. He was gentler in how he helped get the shirt off the rest of the way. Your mane of hair fell into your face, and you huffed.

Ben did you the favor of brushing the thick curls away from your eyes, tugging several strands behind your ears, even though most of them didn’t obey him. He framed your face with his big hands, and his thumbs swept along your skin, the rich complexion shining in the morning light filtering through the kitchen window.

There was more care in his touch now, his strength tempered just for you. Fond amusement colored his features. For as much shit as you gave him, you still gave him more of yourself; more of your trust, your patience...and all the rest of it. You gave him more than anyone that had come before you, and deep inside, he doubted anyone that might come after you.

You smiled up at him, a little wryly. You leaned up and met him for a gentler kiss. Your eyes fell closed at the feeling of him, and the spicy hint of his aftershave. It was a scent that often clung to his pillows. When he was gone on a mission for days on end, you wouldn’t admit to clinging to one of them to help you sleep, and make you feel safe. 

“Mmm, you smell good,” you whispered. And it was true. He smelled like mint and spicy aftershave. You plied his lips with deeper kisses, licking into his mouth with a sensuous tongue, before you stole his words. “Good enough to eat.”

He uttered a groan deep in his throat. It satisfied you, enhancing the warm flood between your legs.  

Fuck it. You were calling in sick today.

You drew him back into the pull of you, winding your arms around his neck and your fingers in his hair. It was getting long again, but you liked it. You liked something to hold onto, just as much as he did. Your nails brushed against his scalp, down the back of his neck, earning a hum of pleasure from him. You wound your legs tightly around his hips and invited the press of his hard cock against your throbbing core, even through your panties and pajama pants. A faltering groan caught in his chest.

“Needier that I thought this morning,” he remarked. His warm hands drifted down to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over dark, pebbled nipples. You sighed into his mouth in response.

You heard the cocky grin in his voice, but for once, you didn’t care. You did need him. You wanted him to fuck the stress and chaos out of you.

…Well, he’d caused most of it, but still. He was gonna damn well fix it.

And he aimed to do just that, with his hands sliding farther down your body with purpose, grabbing the waistband of your pajama pants and roughly sliding them down, along with your panties. Your bare ass felt cold against the tile counter, but you didn’t have too much time to think about it with Ben’s thick fingers probing between the wet, glistening folds of your pussy. He soon found what he was searching for, circling firmly over your clit.

Your hips raised off the counter as you whimpered against his lips and ground yourself against his hand. You broke from his kiss to bury your face in his neck. Ben’s free hand grasped your hip and pulled you right to the edge of the counter.

There he held you down, his brows furrowing in concentration. His fingers sought your entrance and slipped inside you with ease. By now, he knew what angles would have you squirming, writhing, your body arching into him, while your inner walls clenched around his hand.

“Fuck. That’s right, baby doll. I’ve gotcha,” he said roughly, continuing to fuck your pussy with his fingers. His thumb rubbed against your clit between strokes.

The coil in your lower belly began to tighten, the delicious throbbing deep inside beginning to make your thighs shake. But just as you felt yourself tipping over the edge, Ben withdrew his fingers from your sopping channel.

You struggled to catch your breath in shock. Your head raised from Ben’s shoulder to glare at him. When your mouth opened to deliver an indignant protest, he silenced you with his mouth claiming yours. Your nails bit into his shoulder in retaliation, even though you knew it wouldn’t hurt him in the slightest. In fact, it only curved his lips into a smirk against yours.

You slapped him on the shoulder, immensely frustrated, but also laughing. “You’re such an assh—”

Before you could even finish cursing him, he gathered you up again and lifted you off the counter. He walked you over to the couch in the living room. He would’ve loved nothing better than to lay you out across the two-seater table in the kitchen, but he thought the shitty old wood might just give out under the strain of him fucking you. So the living room was a close second, and in this tiny-ass apartment, it was barely a few feet more to walk.

He laid you out underneath him on couch, and it groaned and squeaked under both of your weight. You squeaked too, if for a different reason. It had Ben smirking down at you. He freed himself from the confines of his pajama pants and coated his rock-hard arousal with the leftover wetness coating his hand.

“I approve of the scene change,” you said breathlessly, once again stroking his arms. Your fingers slipped over every dip and plain of muscle.  

“Didn’t think you wanted to be fucked on some cold tile,” he said, even if the sentiment behind his words warmed you. You were pretty sure he didn’t used to care about that. At least, before he met you.

He grabbed your hips, lined himself up to your entrance, and his cock breached you smoothly, pushing into you until his hips fit snugly against yours.

“Oh, fuck,” you choked out, your thighs squeezing around his frame.

“Feel good, sweetheart? All fuckin' filled up,” Ben teased, a bit breathless himself. You were a tight fucking fit. He slid out of you experimentally, drawing a moan from your lips. You nodded.

“Yeah, baby. So good,” you freely admitted, panting all the while.

Ben’s hot gaze drew over you as he continued moving hard and fast inside you. He took in your every bare curve, the way hot breaths and sexy moans fell from your lips with every thrust, the way your hair fanned out underneath you and hung off the side of the sofa cushion, the way your hands still explored him and touched him, demanding, but still loving.

For that, it was all the more tantalizing against his skin, warming even the darkest places he tried not to show you.

And every drag of his cock inside you stretched your inner walls in the most delicious of ways. It wasn’t just that he was able to fill you to the fucking brim. He also just knew his way around a woman’s body. He knew you, and he knew exactly how to make you come undone. Even quick and dirty on your couch, he made you feel brand new. 

He was right, damn him.

The coil deep inside you snapped. Pleasure crested through you and made your inner walls squeeze him tight, fluttering and pulsing with warmth. You came hard on his cock, hard enough to milk his release shortly after for all he was worth.

His forearms fell to the cushion on either side of your head. You were basically being smothered, but for the moment you didn’t mind. You just held his sweat-slick body against yours while you both caught your breath, each of your heartbeats falling back into a steady rhythm.

He was always so damn warm. It was nice, considering how cold it was this winter, but the thought always made you a bit sad. It reminded you of the power housed in his chest, and every memory he caged there as well.

You laid a gentle kiss on his shoulder. In return, his lips found the side of your head and hesitated there.

“You’re not going to work,” he said. It was more an observation than anything else.

You laughed breathlessly and shook your head. “Nope.”

He nodded. “Let’s go out for breakfast.”

You could get behind that. Your kitchen was finally clean, which meant your kitchen was closed until further notice.

“Shower first,” you stipulated.

You felt Ben’s smile grow against your dewy skin. “All right.”

You sighed, and he guided you to your feet along with him. You had a feeling “breakfast” was going to be lunch by the time you and Ben finally escaped this apartment.      

AN: Lol hope you had fun with this one! Let me know if you'd like to see more of these two! 💚💚

Spanish Translations:

Es que él es bruto, mija. Es como un animal con ropa.

It’s that he’s stupid, my daughter. He's like an animal with clothes.

However, “bruto” can also mean brutish, crude, and/or like a beast, so it fits in more than one way. 😂

Sabes que, …

You know what, …

La sirvienta

The servant (or maid) (female)

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[7s3ven]

Guys, I’m going feral over thinking about deer hybrid! Reader x Philip Graves. Might make this into a series if I’m bothered LOL. I like the idea.

Imagine in this au, hybrids are rare. Especially you who looks entirely human save for the white and brown freckles adorning your skin and the gentle doe ears that flick occasionally.

You were a tagged hybrid, slang for a hybrid in danger of becoming nothing more than a test subject. You were prized for your unique blend of both human and animal characteristics. However, the company holding you captive forgot one thing. You were still part animal and it was in your instincts to run.

You met Graves when you collapsed on the road while sprinting away from the laboratory, your keen ears picking up the shouts coming from the guards.

You thought yourself as lucky that a car had been passing through the area when you fell. “What is it?” Someone exited the vehicle followed by another.

“It’s a hybrid… a deer one. I think. Can’t really tell.”

“It’s clearly a deer. What else would it be? A bird?”

They bickered amongst themselves before one had the initiative to pull out a walkie talkie. “Boss, we’ve encountered a hybrid on the road. Not sure how old she is, maybe late twenties? She’s a deer hybrid, has a few wounds, and she’s tagged. Your orders? Over.”

The pair waited half a beat before there was a response.

“Why would I want a hybrid?”

“She’s one of the valuable ones, sir. Maybe she can be useful. She was running quite fast before she blacked out. Doubt she’s been fed so to run at that speed on an empty stomach is impressive.”

There was a sign on the other end of the line. “Fine, bring her in.”

You didn’t officially meet Graves until a week later when he finally paid you a visit.

He watched in concealed awe at the way you gracefully moved, even when you were confined to a bed. You stared up at him, your soft doe eyes burning holes. He found you strangely captivating and it was in that moment he realized you could be useful after all.

Your aim with a gun was surprisingly good. If Graves was going to keep you, he needed you to be capable of protecting yourself. He spent at least a few hours each day just watching you fire a round of shots. His presence was no longer required but you seemed to enjoy his company.

Apart from Graves and the two Shadows who picked you up off the road, you didn’t speak to anyone else. You were shy to the point where sometimes, you didn’t even utter a word to Graves.

Within months, it became apparent as to where your loyalties lay. You answered to Graves and him alone. To you, his words was the law. If a command did not come from Graves, you did not follow it.

Some people found it annoying… but Graves adored it.

You followed Philip Graves everywhere he went, which also meant you tagged along on his shared mission with the Mexican Special Forces Operator and Task Force 141.

BONUS

You were his personal sniper, a gun gifted by Graves strapped to your back.

“Who’s the pretty lass?” A Scottish man asked as you trailed behind Graves. He gazed at you curiously, tilting his head.

Graves barely spared him a look. “My sniper.” He cockily answered, an undeniable smugness to his sharp words. “You don’t need to know her name.”

There were questioning looks exchanged between the teammates before Graves clicked his fingers, effortlessly gaining your attention. He leaned down, fully aware of the eyes following his every move.

“Doe.” He uttered the pet name you were accustomed to. Then he spoke in a foreign language, one only you could understand. Then he pointed at a tree nearby. You didn’t need any further instructions as you stepped forward, grasping your rifle. The others watched with raised brows, patiently waiting for something to happen.

There was a loud bang as you pressed the sensitive trigger of your gun. The bullet flew through the air, hitting the tree with pinpoint accuracy. You fired three more shots, hitting the exact same spot and drilling a hole into the trunk.

With practised ease, you lowered the gun. You heard Graves chuckle before he spoke. “Trained her myself.” He beckoned you back to his side and you obeyed without another thought.

He wrapped an arm around your waist as an act of dominance to the others. “She listens to my commands and mine only so don’t think for a second that her loyalties will change.”

Graves reached out to grasp your necklace, showing it to the whole group. It was a heart with his name engraved on it. “She belongs to me and if any of you muppets even look at her funny, it won’t end well for you.”

[sonthelast]

A few drawings I made about kids that travel through a dreamscape, a land in between everyone’s dreams. On their way to kill god.

[birdadayblog]

Meadow bunting!

[daeyumi]

i love it when ppl put kirby into desserts

[white-weasel]

Funniest bit of the dnd movie is Xenk clearly being an NPC the DM introduced for lore and plot purposes who’s a competent fighter because of course he is, his reputation and backstory require it. But whoopsies the DM made him too powerful, the whole party likes him, and now they want him to come with to fight the BBEG which will completely and utterly fuck up the encounter balance

So instead of there being any actual plot reason he can’t join Xenk just says “I can’t. This is something only you can do.” And then walks off, never to interact with the party again because the DM just knows those little shits will find a way to use their OP creation against them

[bananacat76]

ain’t nothin gonna break their stride….!!

[navnae]

Now I have this Hc of Steve somehow knowing how to read lips and there really isn’t a reason why he just does. Maybe it’s because he’s on the verge of losing his hearing so he might as well learn how to do it right? Eddie notices that whenever someone is mumbling, meaning that what they’re saying is barely audible, Steve always knows exactly what they’re saying. Eddie has caught on to Steve always looking at his lips when he wants to say something under his breath and it’s not the most pleasant thing he can say out loud. Steve finds it cute how flustered Eddie gets when he’s frustrated and he can make out all the faint little rants to himself. One day, Eddie is caught off guard when Steve is basically just staring at his lips even though there really wasn’t a reason to. That give Steve a chance to admit that half the time he’s looking at Eddie’s lips for a different reason leaving Eddie very confused.

[artsymeeshee]

It’s been a while since I uploaded this post and I did want to post more parts to it but lately my motivation to draw has been lacking (might be a small burnout currently). But! I did want to give a small gist of what my ideas were for the after-events of the finale.

I mainly wanted to show my 6th point of Ford going in this weird bubble that Stan’s in and help him. There might be a small chance I’ll draw out other specific thoughts I have but I mainly wanted to draw the comic of them both together. There’s also another drawing I’m dying to show after Bill finally died lol but it’s something special that needs to wait.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

I feel like, if he could, Satoru would choose to take on his spouse's last name, just like Toji did

ANON . I’M GRABBING YOUR SHOULDERS SO HARD RN CAN YOU FEEL IT .

I AGREEEEEEEEEEE . I’VE NEVER AGREED WITH ANYTHING MORE . as cocky as satoru can be i truly believe the gojo name is an INTENSE weight on his back. one that he’s grown used to. :(((( so if he met someone who made him feel like he could let go off that weight…. he absolutely would. i think satoru wants to be Yours more than he wants you to be His, you know? he wants to be let into YOUR life, not the other way around, because his own life is so bleak in comparison. i think he’d get sooo giddy at the idea of having your last name 🥺🥺

….. it’d also be a very big “fuck you <3” to his clan and the higher ups . which he’d find fun. (he corrects people VERY sternly if they ever refer to him as gojo instead of your last name …. it’s a little scary)

[thegooblet]

you know how cats will leave dead mice and birds on your doorstep as gifts? lifesteal mapicc totally does that shit

[tennessoui]

it’s like baby gorl there’s no way I, the author who wrote the fic you’re commenting on and who is the intended audience for this comment, am gonna agree with you 😿🙏 some things can just stay on your chest 🙏