#I’ve done the same problem eight times

[a-person-who-didnt-wanna-be-here]

Pov you’re literally only a week into school crying over math

[girliemattitude]

-- Guilty as Sin?- - M.S - -

A/N (1): I saw someone on @mattscoquette account saying how Matt was so ‘Guilty as Sin’ coded so I had to do it 🫶🏼 A/N (2): This turned out a little longer than what I expected because it has some introductory stuff at the beginning but I swear you’ll get what you came here for <3 💋 A/N(3): this is my work, please don’t steal it :)

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Me and my boyfriend Langdon have been together for about eight months now. I was never the type who wanted a serious relationship, everything about love cringed me out but there was something about him that intrigued me a lot, maybe It was the fact that he’s very tall and confident or his dreamy green eyes but I don’t know.

Our relationship was very good in the beginning, my friends used to make fun of me saying that I became what I swore to destroy because I acted like those annoying girlfriends who can’t shut up about their boyfriends, so annoying right?, anyways now I realize that what I felt wasn’t real because I didn’t really know him well so I idealized him and fell for a perfect version of him who I created but only existed in my head.

Is not like he’s a terrible person but he’s definitely not a good boyfriend, at first he was very attentive and sweet but as the months passed he started to be more distant, it seems like he’s not very interested in me anymore, we barely talk, when I ask about his day he answers with a quick “it was a’ight” but never returns the question, we don’t go on dates, we don’t even cuddle, all we do is hang at his apartment but he’s always to busy on his phone to pay any attention to me so I just stare at the tv pretending I’m interested in the show or movie he put on and at night sometimes we have sex, On the weekends he usually goes MIA and I won’t hear about him until Monday just to find out he was ‘out with the boys’. The sex has change too, he used to make me feel good and wanted, like it was an enormous privilege to have me, he always make sure I got cleaned up afterwards and that I received cuddles or water or whatever I wanted but now it’s always so dull and dreary, I feel used afterwards, he doesn’t make eye contact with me, it’s like he’s only concern is himself and his pleasure so I just lay there, during he asks if I’m okay, he states how good he feels and after he’s done he asks if I came, I never do but I always lie to him, he puts his shorts back on and then goes on his phone again, so I go the bathroom,I clean myself and then I go back to bed feeling empty.

I tried to talk to Langdon about it, I told him we have a problem but he brushed it off saying that I’m nuts and that we are better than ever. I’ve gotten used to it by now, I know I could just break up with him but there’s a tiny bit of hope that thinks he’ll change so I stay.

Lately I’ve been feeling some type of way about my friend Matt, I’m very close with him and his brothers, I mean we’ve known in each for a long time now and yes I used to have a little crush on him but that was ages ago and it went away so I convinced myself that what I was feeling currently was the same silly feeling I once had and that it will go away just like last time, the problem was that this time was different it was harder to ignore, it was more intense and it filled my mind with crazy thoughts. It started one day at the warehouse, I was sitting on a large table typing the last details of an essay when all of the sudden my laptop shut down even though it was completely charged, I was freaking out when Matt entered the room, he asked what was wrong and after I answered him he position himself behind me, both of his arms were on each side of me and I could feel his scent on my nose and his warm breath on my face, he was trying to figure out what had happened to my laptop but all I could focused on was his hands, holy shit they’re veiny and his fingers looked so long pressing buttons on the keyboard, my breath hitched and I know should’ve but i didn’t look away, I tried to I swear but when I gazed to the side I saw his tattooed arm and I pictured myself tracing the lines of them, I heard him murmured an almost none audible “fuck” that sent vibrations to my whole body, specially in between my legs. I still don’t know how long I was zoned out but suddenly the laptop was back on and he said “there you go sweetheart” and give me a soft smile.

That night I was in my bed alone and I couldn’t stop thinking about those hands, my heartbeat started to race as I imagined how it would feel to have his hands squeezing my hips as he pulls me in for a kiss, I thought that I would bet millions of dollars he’s a good kisser, would he bite my lip?, how would does longs fingers feel inside of me? . I couldn’t stop wondering, my head was fuzzy, my fingers went from resting on my stomach to under my panties and before I realized what I was doing I touched my clit with my middle finger, slowly and in circles, Matt and how his warm breath felt against my skin never left my mind, a familiar sensation of pleasure overflowed my body and I let out a moan which put me out off my trance and I stoped myself from going further. I kept on telling myself that Matt’s just a nice guy who happens to be very attractive and that I was confused because I felt horny and lonely, but that didn’t stop me because the next morning while I was showering my mind went back to Matt and I pictured him in there with me, he’s wet hair and naked body, he’s dick pressed against my back, his lips on my neck leaving messy and sloppy kisses, one of his hands all over my boobs and the other inserting his fingers inside of me and I couldn’t stop, I imagined him talking me threw it until I came undone screaming the name of one of my closest friends. After that I avoided the whole crew for I couple of days, I felt so guilty, I avoided Langdon too but that wasn’t that hard, it’s not like he was eager to see me either.

Yesterday I saw my friends again we went to a scape room and I tried to avoid Matt as much as I could, after that we went to a pizza place, as we were waiting for the pizza Nick and Chris went to the bathroom and Madi was on her phone, I was pretending to be on my phone too so I wouldn’t have to speak to Matt, he was sitting in front of me and I felt him stare but I didn’t looked up. He quickly switched seats and sat beside me, I ignored him again, I thought I succeeded when I saw Nick and Chris approach us but I was wrong, Matt got even nearer to me and whispered in my ear “is it just me or a you avoiding me today?” I told him he was crazy and that we were good but I don’t think he believed me, I’m a terrible liar but even if I wasn’t I know he noticed how my body froze when he whispered to me and how my eyes didn’t locked with his even once, he didn’t talk much after that little interaction between us. I know him, I know he was overthinking about why I was acting this way towards him, and I felt terrible but how I’m suppose to tell him that I’m the worst person alive because even though I have a boyfriend I can’t get him out off my head, that I keep recalling things we never did, that I can’t look at him in the eyes without having an unbearable need to kiss him, that I want him to hold me at night, or how we’ve already done it in my head and how that was the best orgasm I’ve had in the longest time or how it’s not only a sexual thing but also the fact that I’m pretty sure I’m in love with him?

Right now it’s the next day and I’m in my boyfriends couch, he’s beside me playing some video game, I’m looking at the screen and I hear gunshots and one of his friends yelling from the headphones he has on but my mind is on Matt once again, everyday day that goes by I feel worse, I know he’s frustrated because he knows something’s wrong but I can’t tell him, and my stupid boyfriend is next to me and doesn’t know shit, which makes me feel even worse, Langdon swears we are perfectly fine and I can’t help but feel like a cheater, I hate cheaters yet I am one, I haven’t touched Matt but mentally I’m full of sin.

Last night I told everything to my friend Madi, who stayed the night at my house to keep me company ‘cause “I seemed off”, of course she noticed too, everyone did, even Chris who’s always distracted asked me what the fuck was going on with me.

After I told Madi she stated that I shouldn’t feel guilty about anything,that we can’t control our thoughts but we can control our actions and I haven’t done anything wrong, she also told me I should break up with Langdon and tell the truth because i would be surprised to know what Matt feels too, I still don’t know what Matt feels, she wouldn’t tell me but it doesn’t matter, I can’t do that, I know Langdon hasn’t been the best boyfriend but he’s not a bad person, I just don’t want to hurt anyone but I guess that’s inevitable. Maybe our relationship is just in a rough patch and If I put more effort into it we’ll work it out and possibly light up the fire again. Yes that’s probably it, In a couple of days everything will go back to normal and I’ll stop getting those crazy thoughts.

Langdon gets off his game and asks me if I’m hungry, I say we should go out to eat since we haven’t done that in a while but he doesn’t want to so I offer to cook us something instead and he agrees, I smile big at him and suggest we could make dinner together but he just says “nah” and goes back to his game, but it’s okay I’m not giving up. I make some quick mac and cheese and we eat in silence, he offers to wash the dishes and I let him, baby steps I think to myself.

I stare at him as he’s cleaning the counter and I analyze him, he’s way taller than Matt, and more muscular, he’s eyes are green, not blue, he’s hair is lighter and slightly longer, he doesn’t have any tattoos and his hands are bigger. Overall they are both completely different people, even their personalities don’t match but weirdly the two of them are my type, which doesn’t really matter because I shouldn’t be comparing them anyway.

I walked over to Langdon and I intertwined my hands over his shoulders, I gave him puppy eyes and I stand on my tiptoes to give him a kiss, a genuine kiss he laughs and says “what was that for?”

“I just felt like kissing you, is there something wrong with that?” I reply with and innocent tone before I kiss him again, this time is a longer kiss, it gets heated pretty fast, he pulls me into his hard abdomen, grabbing my ass with both of his hand and I start to feel the bulge between his legs getting bigger. I pull apart out of breath and I ask him to take me to the bedroom, he doesn’t waste any time as he lifts me up effortlessly, my legs are up in the air and I’m being carried to his room. I can’t help but to think about how Matt wouldn’t lift me up as easily as Langdon just did and how I would tease him about it, (c’mon Matt I’m not that heavy) a giggle at the thought and my boyfriends looks at me weird; “what’s so funny?”, oh fuck, I gotta stop, “nothing don’t worry about it”. He puts me down on the bed and gets rid of his all of his clothes, except his underwear, I do the same and we go back to kissing, he’s laying on top of me, he starts giving me kisses on my jaw and goes down to my neck and collarbones, I support myself on my elbows so he could take my bra off, he squeeze one of my boobs and gently tease the other one with his mouth, murmuring things I can’t understand, all I I can do is moan at the feeling. I decide to take a little bit of control and I switch our position, now he’s laying on his back and I straddle him, I give kisses on his abdomen, down to his happy trail and before I reach his boxers I lick him sensually all the way up until I meet his lips again, I kissed him and I bite his bottom lip, “you are such a tease you know that sweetheart”, sweetheart, he never calls me that, that’s what Matt calls me, why I’m a thinking about Matt again?, I shake my head trying to brush off the thoughts and I remove his underwear, he sits up so we are chest to chest, I take a look at his hard cock and I stroke him a couple of times before I put my panties to the side and I aligned myself into him, I sink into him and the both of us let out a sigh of relief once he’s all in, he kisses me and I start to move back and forth slowly, he guides my hips until we found a nice rhythm, he’s groaning and I moan, my moans gets even louder once i start bouncing up and down on him, and it feel so good, he grabs my ass and my hands are on his shoulders for support, i close my eyes and suddenly I’m in Matt’s bed instead, his brown hair is sticking to his forehead, he’s blue eyes are lock in mine and they look much darker now due to his pupils being dilated, his cheeks are tinted pink and his mouth is open, I see his horse necklace moving along with our movements, his chest moves at a rapid pace as well considering that he’s out of breath. I whine so loudly and I rolled my head back at the overwhelming feeling and his left hand goes to my neck bringing me back to him “press harder, pleeaa-ssee” I say between heavy breaths, “yeah? You want me to choke a little do ya’?” “Omg, yess” , “all you had to do was ask baby”. My only response being the sounds leaving my throat, I place one of my hands on top of his left one that’s choking me and my other one goes to his forearm arm caressing his tattoos. I swear I could stay like this forever; “fuck, you’re so pretty, so perfect, just for me, shit I’m gonna cum babe ” “nonono, wait for me, I’m close”

I feel how his dick twitches a little inside of me, my movements increase even more and I start to tremble as I hit my climax and finally that familiar knot on my stomach pops and I came harder than ever, my eyes are close as I ride off my orgasm, my breaths are still irregular and when they’re about to go back to normal I hear “That was so good baby” and my eyes go wide open in shock. Langdon has a fucked out look on his face but he’s smiling at me with a huge grin and once again I feel like absolute garbage, I get off of him and i quickly go to the bathroom, tears are filling my eyes, am i allowed to cry?, my heart is full of guilt and regret, I cannot believe I fucked my boyfriend thinking about Matt but what surprised me the most is that even though i feel terrible, the back of my mind is thinking… ‘if I just came this hard just by the thought of him, how good would it feel to actually have sex with Matt? Does that make me mad? or bad?’ I have no clue all I know is that Madi is right, I have to break things off with Langdon.

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[cutielights]

Tw: none

Rise! Boys x Spider Person! S/O

Leo

Incredibly whipped

He’s in love

You can stick to walls? That’s awesome. Bring him with you.

Brings you on patrols and such

Absolutely adores your spider suit

Spider senses? Extremely useful, but not around Leo

He’s getting into trouble so much that they constantly go off

Constantly makes spider jokes

He is genuinely thoroughly relieved that you don’t have eight legs, sticking to the average

Spiders have no bones, but humans do. The compromise? Extreme flexibility. Low-key freaked him out a bit

Raph

Likes your webs and combat style. Not so much the fact that they stick to him even if he barely touched it

Spiders can lift up to fifty times their body weight

You can lift him no problem

He found this out when you caught him after he got thrown by an unnamed villan

“Okay, I’m not freaking out. But, how are you holding me right now?”

He likes the feeling, not many people can lift him

Listen, he loves that you can take a few hits, move around NYC speedily and efficiently

But for the love of god- Stop. Scaling. Buildings.

He knows you can stick to walls. But he has a heart attack every time.

He’s found himself incredibly fond of your spider sense, taking a certain amount of stress off of him, even if it’s just a little

Donnie

Fascinated by you, every time you use your powers you can see him furiously taking notes out of the corner of your eye

You slept off a spider bite instead of going to the doctor?”

“Yes?”

“You’re incredibly lucky to be alive.”

“C’mon aren’t you over reacting?”

“IT WAS RADIOACTIVE HOW ARE YOU NOT FREAKING OUT?”

“It was like a year ago, chill.”

Runs consensual tests on you

Estimates what type of spider bit you

Tied between the need for knowledge, the fear of spiders, the love of his partner

Refuses to touch your webs, and he’s not sorry, not even if they happen to be purple

Mikey

Likes that you can stick your feet onto skateboards

Makes it ten times easier for you

Gets you to sling him into high places to do graffiti

Spider-Man kisses?

SPIDER-MAN KISSES!

Gets you to stick to the ceiling so you can jumpscare Donnie

Helps you with different suit designs, sure he’s more on the pallet side of things, but it’s still fun!

Asks if you have dietary restrictions, and therefore cannot eat pizza

You reminded him that you just have spider powers and not spider insides

Doodles spiders on your arms, in relatively the same places his own spots are, so you can match!

I wrote this in one sitting, easiest I’ve done in a while <3

[scoonsalicious]

5.4 Major*

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, explicit sexual content (hand stuff, fingering) Minors GTFO: I don't serve your kind here.

Word Count: 900

Previously On...: Lily knows Bucky's been lying to her, and she's surmised he's on a date. That's got to end.

A/N: Posting a little early today to make up for yesterday being so late!

I've decided to postpone my break by a few days, so I will give you Chapter 6 in its entirety before I take my mini-hiatus. It's only three parts long, so I will start my break on Thursday, 5/16 and resume posting on Thursday, 5/23. It's a better place in the story to leave you, a little bit more dramatic than at the end of this chapter, like I had originally planned, lol. It felt off leaving you all here.

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

You flopped your body down onto your bedsheets with a giggle. “Full marks, Sergeant,” you gasped between panting breaths. “Once again.” It was all the two of you could do to get back to your apartment without ripping each other’s clothes off.

Bucky laughed and came to lay down alongside you, propping his head up on his vibranium arm. Leaning over, he bent down to kiss you. “I couldn’t have done it without you, doll” he said with a grin, but then his face grew serious. “Seriously. It’s never been like this with other girls.”

You blushed and playfully pushed at his rock hard shoulder. “Come on, Bucky,” you said with a laugh. “You’ve already got me naked and exactly where you want me; you don’t need to sweet talk me.”

Bucky placed a hand on your sweat-slicked hip, gently turning you to your side so you were facing him. “I’m not,” he told you, searching your eyes with the utmost sincerity in his expression. He pushed back a strand of damp hair away from your face. “I’ve been with… well, a fair number of girls over the years.” At the raise of your eyebrow, he held his flesh hand up defensively. “What? I’m 105 years old, doll. I’ve been around the block.” You couldn’t hold back your laugh at that, and he kissed your nose before continuing: 

“Like I said, a fair number of girls. And none of them, not a single one, ever made me feel the way I have when I’m with you.” He cupped your cheek in his hand and you felt your cheeks flame in a blush. “Come on, sugar. Don’t tell me you don’t feel it, too. That this,” he took his hand off your cheek to motion between your two bodies, “isn’t something special.”

“It’s been a little over a day, Bucky,” you chastised him gently with a smile, afraid to admit that you, too, felt this was something unique. “Maybe thirty hours?” Thirty hours in which the two of you had somehow managed to have sex eight times, not that you were counting. You couldn’t believe how quickly he was able to get it up again after he came, but he’d assured you that was his favorite side effect of the serum that had made him a super soldier. It had quickly become your favorite, too.

Bucky’s face fell, and you realized that he wasn’t going to judge you if you told him the truth, because he felt it just the same. “The best thirty hours of my life,” you clarified, tucking your fingers under his chin so you could bring his gaze back up to yours. “And yes, I feel it, too. It’s never been like this before. Not with anyone else.”

“Not even with your ex-husband?” Bucky asked with a playful smirk.

“Especially not with Conner,” you told him with a roll of your eyes. “Took me years to teach that man where my clit was, and even on his best days, he still needed a map.”

“Oh, you mean this, right here?” Bucky deftly slid his hand between your thighs, finding your hub of nerves almost instinctively and began to lightly trace it with his finger, sending an electric tingle through your body. 

“Fuck, yes,” you exhaled, reaching up to grab Bucky’s shoulder for support as he increased the pressure. He moved his metal arm from under his head and slid it behind your shoulders as he pulled you flush with his chest.

“I got you, sweet girl,” he murmured into your hair as he moved his fingers faster against you, occasionally dipping them down to your entrance to collect some of your slick for lubrication. You hitched a leg up over his hip to allow him better access to your core. 

“Jesus, Bucky,” you moaned, feeling yourself building to the crescendo. Taking your hand off his shoulder, you grabbed his wrist, guiding his movements so you could grind your desperate cunt against his hand.

“Do you want my fingers, sugar?” Bucky panted. You looked up at him to find his gaze locked on where his hand had vanished between your thighs, his pupils completely blown from lust. “Do you want me to fuck you with my fingers until you squirt all over me?”

You couldn’t even get out a coherent word, just a pathetic whine that turned into a near scream when Bucky plunged three of his digits into you. The air was full of the frantic sounds of your combined breathing, along with the rapid squelch of his fingers driving in and out of your cunt with a speed you didn’t know was humanly possible. It felt like he was hitting every part of you, even parts you didn’t know existed until now. Every time with Bucky felt that way.

“How you doing, sugar?” Bucky asked as he continued to drive his fingers home. “You okay?”

You nodded and grunted in the affirmative, loving how he always checked in on you. You were so much more than okay. You were transcendent. 

Soon, you felt that intense, unfamiliar build up that only he had been able to pull out of you once before, on the living room floor. The pleasure was so intense, you couldn’t see straight and you were exploding all over again, clinging to Bucky for dear life as you screamed his name. 

<- Previous Part / Next Chapter ->

[kinardsevan]

Prompt: Buck finds out that Tommy is actually related to TK Strand.

(ahem. you asked for this.)

ETA: I have a serious problem with word skipping when reading if you can’t tell 🙃

He never intended to find out this kind of information. He done the 23&me on a whim after joking around with Eddie and Chim at work when Chim had randomly dropped into conversation “did you know I’m eight percent Scottish?” And of course they didn’t know, because how would that information have been freely available to him? How would he ever have known? 

And then Chimney had gifted him and Eddie each tests for Christmas, and at the time, Evan had figured ‘why the hell not?’ So he’d done the whole thing. Spit in the tube, sent it in, figured maybe he could at least find out if he had to worry about cancer in his future due to the Daniel of it all. 

“You sure you want to mess around in that,” Tommy had asked him over dinner one night. “I’ve heard about people finding out about murderers in their family.” 

But he’d been so sure. So sure there would be nothing interesting that would come back. There was nothing fun about the Buckley’s. His parents are teachers. His grandparents died of natural causes. What’s the worst that could happen? 

Turns out it was a lot. 

. . .

He’s on the stairs when Tommy comes into the loft, duffel still hitched up on his shoulder. They’re supposed to be spending the weekend together, but Evan’s not really sure what’s going to happen after the last twenty-four hours. 

“Hey,” Tommy murmurs softly, letting his bag hit the floor as he walks over to the stairs. He perches down at the base of them, resting a hand on Evan’s knee and ilfting the other to his face, brushing away the tears there. 

“Hi,” Evan rasps back, still staring at his hands folded in front of him. 

“Eddie said Bobby sent you home,” Tommy murmurs. Evan nods. 

“What’s going on,” Tommy asks softly, concern laced around his words. 

Evan’s eyebrows are knit so tightly together they could one into one another and the line his mouth is pressed into could crack peanut shells. 

“I-…My…Um, Maddie…” The words keep dying in his throat before he can get them out, and it just keeps making the knot in his chest tighter. 

“Is something wrong with Maddie?” 

Evan’s head lifts then, meeting Tommy’s eyes. There are conflicting emotions in the blonde’s sapphire eyes. Sorrow. A little bit of anger. Something else Tommy can’t place. Loss? 

“No,” he replies rapidly. “No, she’s fine. B-but she’s… she’s not-…”  Evan shakes his head at himself and reaches for his phone next to him on the stairs. He unlocks it, swipes at it a few times, and then passes it to Tommy. Tommy stares at him for a moment longer than necessary, and then looks down at the screen. 

“Family tree,” Tommy comments, moving the screen around to see the connections. It takes him a moment, but then suddenly he’s pulling the phone closer to his face, moving things around. “Where’s Maddie and Chim?” 

Evan lets out a noise somewhere between a laugh and a sob, pressing the back of a hand to his nose as he sniffles. Tommy just keeps staring at the phone. 

“This has to be wrong,” Tommy comments. He sets the phone down and looks back up at Evan, cupping his face. 

“It’s not,” Evan rasps, blinking more tears down. “I got the first set of results weeks ago. Told them the same thing. They had me send a fresh sample and retest.” 

Tommy deadpans at him, eyes widened. “Evan.” 

“They’re not my family, Tommy.” His voice is so small and broken that it breaks Tommy, and he can’t stop the tears in his own eyes. “I never fit in because I didn’t belong to them. I’ve never belonged to them.” 

Tommy slides his hands off Evan’s face then and stands, pulling the blonde up with him as he does and into a tight hug. Evan burrows his face into Tommy’s neck, crying softly into the fabric of his maroon henley.

“I’m so sorry, Evan,” he murmurs to him, hand to the back of his head and lips to his temple. For all the jokes everyone has made in recent weeks after Chimney had gifted his friends the test, nobody, not even Tommy, could’ve forseen this outcome. 

They stand in that position for a while, letting Evan process. When it seems like he’s calmed enough, Tommy pulls him over to the table and they sit down next to each other. Tommy pulls Evan’s chair right up next to his, stretching his arm across the back of it and resting his free hand in the blonde’s on the table. 

“There’s nothing that says you have to do anything with any of this information,” Tommy tells him. “Maddie is still your sister. Your family is still your family.” 

Evan sniffles, leans over and rests his head on Tommy’s shoulder. 

“I know them,” he murmurs a moment later, his voice cracking. “The-…my biological family. I know them.” 

“You do,” Tommy asks. He tries not to sound overly curious in case Evan doesn’t want to give more information. 

Evan nods, lifting his head back up. “You remember my friends who came through a few weeks ago to visit?We went to dinner with them?” 

Tommy’s brow furrows as he tries to recall what Evan is specifically referring to. When it clicks, he looks back over at him. 

“TK and Carlos?” 

Evan nods. “H-his parents-… o-or I guess….” He pauses, shakes his head. “Owen and Gwyn had a kid their first year of college. Me, apparently.” 

Tommy frowns at him. 

“They placed the baby for adoption,” Evan continues. “With the option for the baby- me… to seek them out if I decided to once I was an adult.” He pauses for a moment, scowling at his table. “I don’t know h-how, but m-my parents...they tried to have a savior sibling, for Daniel. And it didn’t work. But they knew people through the hospital, a-and when I was born…” His voice trails off, his expression shifting to one of disgust. He looks up at Tommy. “I was technically a match to Daniel. But the graft didn’t take.” 

Tommy narrows his eyes at him, the weight of what Evan’s telling him sinking in. “They adopted you so they could have your bone marrow?” 

Evan lets out disgusted laugh, shaking his head. 

“And then when I couldn’t save the son they actually wanted, they acted like I wasn’t their problem,” he mutters. “And they never told me. “ 

Tommy huffs. He lifts his arm from behind Evan and pulls him in, presses his lips to the blonde’s birthmark. 

“I know it’s not a consolation, but you can still know them,” he states softly. “You already have TK in your life.” 

Evan shakes head, pulling away and looking at Tommy again, more tears in his eyes. 

“Gwyn is dead,” he tells him. “She’s been gone for two years now.” 

Tommy’s head tilts at the information, sorrow and compassion crossing his face. TK also had mentioned when they met that his father was a cancer survivor, and the realization of both of those factors is almost gut-wrenching. 

“I don’t have the right answers for this,” he admits softly. “But I can be here with you through it, whatever you want to do.” 

Evan nods. He leans back over, resting his head on Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy presses his face into Evan’s hair, leaving quick, gentle kisses there as his fingers massage gently on his scalp. 

“You’re the only person who’s ever loved me just as I am,” Evan murmurs, snuffling back a small whimper. “The only one who’s ever decided I was enough this way.” 

Tommy gulps down past the knot in his throat as he fists a handful of Evan’s hair, holding him close a beat longer. 

“Never gonna stop,” he rasps after a moment. “This version of you is enough, no matter what anyone else thinks.” 

[solarbird]

The thing about spending eight years cheering, supporting, and encouraging political violence and welcoming people dedicated to political change through violence to your movement is that…

well…

…okay, sure, you can build up a mean little coalition of paramilitaries that way. If you’re disciplined and careful.

Or, if you lack that discipline and those organisational skills, you can instead build up a motley little coalition of people more than happy to listen to your calls for stochastic terrorism.

And the problem with that latter route is they might not always aim where you want them to.

The other problem with that is if they decide you’ve abandoned or betrayed them – and if you’re coaching them and constantly encouraging them in conspiracy theory thinking and bullshit, that gets a lot more likely, for any reason and none – they might even aim at you.

Elon Musk earlier today wanted to know why people weren’t trying to assassinate Kamala Harris and finds it very suspicious that they aren’t. (He since deleted the tweet.)

The New Hampshire Libertarian Party said anyone who did it would be an American hero. (Screenshot, also since deleted.) Whoever is in charge of that account is gonna have a looooooot to talk about with the US Secret Service tonight.

In short, the usual crew of fash are trying real hard to aim this shit. But so far, well – it’s not working out as they’d planned.

Nonetheless, they will continue to do this just as they have. They will continue to ramp up white nationalist violence against immigrants in particular but not just, and tell their base that brutality and violence will be necessary and just, just as the OG Nazis said, and the crisis will escalate through – and almost certainly after – the election.

The more they realise they’re going to lose, the more they’re going to ramp it up going into the election. Harris is at +5 points today. Polls are difficult at best in this environment, but they listen to them just the same, and their actions say it’s worse for them even than it seems.

However, the more by which they do lose, the more it’s going to ramp back down after. I’ve talked about this before. The bigger the loss, the fewer people will be willing to take action to overturn it.

This is now the latest reason we need to deliver the biggest, most absolutely crushing defeat that can be managed. They need to be deflated, depressed, and done in. It needs to be a definitive statement that this will not gain you power.

The win needs to be so clear, so obvious, that any attempt they launch will attract the fewest number of people, and so, cannot succeed. Roberts and the corrupted SCOTUS are, sure, firmly in their camp, but they’re not stupid; they want to hold onto power even in the event of a GOP loss everywhere else, and that puts hard limits on how far they’ll go to overturn an election.

They absolutely will not further endanger their own power. They want to be around to rule from the bench for decades, if they can.

So. This year has been doomed to be violent for a long time now. But we can make it the least violent it can be with an absolute electoral blowout.

There will be more of this, going forward. Expect it, but do not be discouraged by it; in fact, be heartened, because the more they lash out, the more it clearly it shows that they know they’re about to lose.

Stay on target, team.

49 days remain.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Beware, Emoji SOUP

🚨⚡️➰➰☠️🧟‍♀️🧟‍♀️⚡️⚡️🔽☠️☠️◀️🔼➰🚨▶️🚨🚨🧟‍♀️⚡️🔽🔼☠️☠️➰🚨⚡️⚡️☠️

Oh boyyyyyyyy

3 for 🚨:

---

“Have you been hurt on the job?” Phillip asks. 

Eddie was not expecting this question.

---

3 for ⚡️:

---

Eddie looks over his shoulder nervously, to make sure Chris isn’t listening. He’s not. 

“Mom, you have to know it’s so different.”

---

6 for ➰:

tagging @steadfastsaturnsrings

---

Buck rolls over in bed,  away from the bright red digital clock face, to where Eddie is still sleeping, arm slung over Buck’s waist. He shakes Eddie awake.

“Eddie.”

Eddie’s eyes flutter open. 

“Morning, handsome,” he mumbles. 

“What day is it?”

---

3 for ☠️:

---

His nerves don’t bode well for him today.

Ransone begins the interview the same way he did for everyone else.

“Did you know Captain Gerrard was allergic to shellfish?”

---

6 for 🧟‍♀️:

---

“He always talked about the two of you finding each other again,” Chim says instead. “Crazy that you actually pulled it off.”

She smiles. “I like that he’s made a life for himself here. A family. In case I didn’t.”

---

6 for ⚡️:

---

“I do,” she says. “Very different.”

“I am making this choice because it makes me very happy.” Eddie tells her. “Because I know exactly what I want my future to look like, for the first time, and not what I think it should look like. And that is being married to Buck and building a family with him.”

---

3 for 🔼:

---

Eddie smiles gratefully. “Thanks. I just need like an hour or two, then I’ll be good.”

---

6 for ☠️:

---

Tommy’s eyebrows crease. “I did not.”

“Really?” Ransone presses.

“Unless I’d forgotten?” Tommy shrugs. 

---

6 for 🔼:

---

Strange, to have an eight year-old between them, but to have never really done that before. 

Eddie nods. “See you in a bit then.”

And then he heads off to the bedroom to sleep. 

So it’s getting somewhere. Looking up. Things aren’t perfect, and they’re still really awkward a lot of the time, but for the first time in a long time, they sort of feel secure. 

---

3 for ➰:

---

Eddie’s eyes shift from sleepy to intense in a snap. Like Buck has doused him in cold water. 

“What?”

---

3 for 🚨:

---

Honestly, he’s not even sure why it’s relevant. But sure, he’ll bite.

“Not too seriously.”

---

3 for 🔼:

---

Shannon finds out exactly how she is going to ruin things literally the next day. Or at least, how she could. Because she is, at this point, still determined not to.

---

6 for 🚨:

---

“Had a bit of a close call earlier this year, but I’ve been pretty lucky. I’ve got a great team looking out for me.”

He nods at Buck and Chim.

“It still seems risky. I mean, from what I hear, Evan has spent quite a lot of time in hospitals,” Phillip retorts. 

“From what you hear?” Buck echoes.

---

3 for 🧟‍♀️:

---

“Well, we’re a tight unit,” Chim says. He waits a breath before speaking again. “And we could be that for you, too, you know.”

---

3 for ⚡️:

---

Helena inhales. She blinks, eyes tearing up. Eddie is a little caught off-guard, to be honest.

---

6 for 🔼:

---

The problem happens after an impromptu text from Maddie, inviting her over to her apartment for takeout and reality television. Not usually Shannon’s go-to, in terms of viewing genre, but it sounds fun on a Sunday evening where she’d otherwise be alone. Eddie has a family dinner at his Abuela’s, so Chris is there. Shannon has to have other things to do. That’s part of this, right? Figuring out who she actually is.

---

6 for ☠️:

---

“Are you especially forgetful?” Ransone asks. “When it comes to matters of life and death?”

“Well, no…” Tommy frowns. “But I don’t remember this.”

---

3 for ➰:

---

“What day is it, Eddie?” Buck asks again. 

Eddie swallows heavily.

---

3 for 🚨:

---

His tone is icy. Severe. It chills Eddie, a little, to hear it.

---

6 for ⚡️:

---

“I had to ask, Eddie.” She says again. “I didn’t ask last time, because I already knew the answer. I knew what I thought the right thing was… I didn’t do right by you. But if you’re happy today, then I am very, very happy for you.”

---

3 for ☠️:

---

“Do you remember mixing up the pitchers when you were making caesars?” Ransone asks. 

Tommy’s eyes bulge. 

[billdenbrough]

my uncle killed himself last night.

technically, he’s my mum’s cousin, but we’re pasifika, which means he’s my uncle. he’s one of her best friends in the whole world. she’s closer to him than she is to her actual brother.

when he told me the news, my dad gave a tiny biography. a refresher course, if you will. to some, this would indicate, i imagine, a great distance. a lack of familiarity. the thing you have to know, then, is my mother has one hundred and eight first cousins. multiple of them (who are also related to each other) have the same name.

but i’m sitting in a mall, looking at my google doc, thinking to myself, how am i going to connect a to b, and then i get a text, and i am staring at my phone for ten minutes. there is something weird and staticky and tight and panicky in my chest, but mostly everything is numb. i do not own a weighted blanket, but i imagine sometimes it might be like this. a grounding pressure coating everything. or maybe vaseline is closer to what i mean, keeping things in, keeping things out.

i call my dad. i take a list of errands. nothing to do with my uncle, or my mother, or grief, or death. they are the tasks my dad needs done, the things he was going to do today but now is not, because my mother’s heart is broken and he can’t leave her alone. so maybe they are to do with grief, kind of.

i drive through the city, and it sucks, because of course it does, but also it’s a saturday, and it’s a long weekend, and there are sales, and i am driving to the biggest mall in my area. and i get there, and i don’t really know where to go or what to do, so i try to nap in the back of my car. i lock all the doors, bunch up several of my jackets lying around, and set a timer for half an hour. after three minutes, it’s too hot, so i climb back up, figure out how to unlock the whole car, make my way to the front, turn it on, and put the back two windows down, just an inch or two. inches aren’t my favourite measurement—imprecise, unpractical, american—but it is what it is. i lay back down, and i try sleep, and i get maybe ten minutes of semi-aware rest before the noises outside stress me out too much, and then i spend the rest of the timer curled on my side, staring at my phone battery go down. my dad calls me back eventually, and gives me a direction. the first half of the great impersonator is my company for this, until my battery level stresses me out even more than the vaseline works, and i switch off bluetooth completely.

it starts raining at some point, and there is a wind tunnel, and my feet are sore because i’m not wearing my orthotics, which i am not wearing because they were making my feet ache. catch-22. i keep doing errands, and eventually, the lane i take when driving from one of the stores to a different mall leads me all the way to the house of someone i used to know, a boy who dated someone in my family for years and years and years. this is not great. i do not love this. i have spent the better part of a year adjusting to his absence, see, and reckoning with the big hurts people can deal people in ways that are small, in the greater scheme of things.

and i’m driving past his parents’ house, thinking about the last time i was there, and it’s probably less upsetting than it would be on a good day, but it is still a bad thing on a day that just managed to already be worse. and then i start thinking about my uncle, and my dad’s refresher bio, and how it did not include the fact that this man taught me how to weave, even though he did. he showed me how to weave hammocks and nets and helped me into a dinghy when i was ten and trying to bridge the gap of the ocean from the ladder to the boat and my mother loved him and relied on him and his smile is etched into my brain and now he is dead.

i finally get hungry. i woke up at 5am, my body causing me problems even after being up past midnight revisiting old stories and universes and ideas, and i’ve had one thing to eat around 9:30, and then everything has been too funny in my stomach to contend with the idea of eating. and then, suddenly, i am finally hungry, so much that it hurts. and i get food for my mother, who has not been eating all day, too full with grief, and i get food for myself, and some extra for my dad, and i drive through the rain and behind bad drivers and with songs i don’t know playing, until i get to the kitchen where my mother is, and i drop all my bags, and i hold her for a full minute while she shakes against me.

dad went for a walk, she says, and i give her the food, and i tell her i got the broth separate from the noodles so she can heat and eat it later if she isn’t ready now, and she says she will eat it.

and she is eating. and i am eating. and there she is. and here i am. and she says she wants to go back home. she wants to go this week, but she doesn’t know who can take care of the cat, because i will be in another city for three days and dad will be away for two. and she says how my uncle was such a big part of the reason she was so looking forward to going back home with all of us this christmas. they had so many big plans. and her voice shakes. and she says my aunt, her sister, is taking it badly, and i am not surprised, and then she says that my aunt is the one who found him, that it was in her house, and now i am surprised. now i am shaking too.

my dad comes home. she doesn’t bring up wanting to go back. maybe she is waiting. i wash my new sheets. the rugby game is starting in one room, and we all slowly migrate there, and we sit in separate chairs, and we watch, by which i mean we have devices in front of us that we sometimes look away from to observe the game. i’m still staring at that same google doc from this morning.

every so often, when i look up, i don’t watch the game. i watch my mother, and i watch how her face crumples, so many times that i cannot count. her whole mouth turns down, and her face shakes, and her eyes are so, so sad, and she is across the room from me, and all i can do is watch. she does not cry. she does not speak. but her face crumples, over and over.

my dad goes to shower. she goes to shower. i end up on a wikipedia deep dive of something even more horrible, even sadder, and close my laptop screen. i go to shower, because i almost had a breakdown over something that isn’t even a thing to have a reaction to on twitter, and i need to do something to douse the rising anxiety beneath my skin. so i go to shower, and i open tumblr, and i start typing. i don’t really know why i’m saying all this. i guess i’m still trying to douse the rising thing in my chest. the vaseline is wearing thin, and i don’t know if it’s all better out or in.

i guess it’s just a lot. and i don’t know where to put it down. and today is the first day. and we will do it all again tomorrow, and my mother will still be staring at the ceiling, and i will be watching her, and my dad will go for walks in the rain, and nobody will have anything big enough to say to make it better. i don’t know if anyone has told my sister.

[gallusrostromegalus]

For the fic writer ask meme, #8: Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Here's a bit from An Elephant Is Soft And Mushy, where after Kenpachi goes on a short visit to what will later be Hueco Mundo, he and Byakuya sit down to do some scheduling late at night:

Warnings: This is the result of the Angst Goblin in my brain suddenly remembering Bleach OVA content and realizing that it makes several people's backstories much, MUCH worse, and not so much kicking the door in as blowing it away with a #suffering shotgun. Discussion of a canon character death, and an additional implied death :)

(tagging @cesium-sheep because you wanted to see what I was going to do with the characters.)

***

“...Ken-chan?.”  Yachiru glared from the doorway, rubbing the dark circles forming under her eyes. “Its really late.”

“I know, I know.”  Zaraki sighed. “Can’t sleep?”

“Nm.” Yachiru mumbled, shaking her head and leaning on the doorframe.

“Hand me that pillow behind you.”  Zaraki pointed, sitting up and shifting positions so his leg was sticking out beside him. 

“Ta. C’mere.”  he nodded, taking the pillow from Byakuya and setting it in his lap. Yachiru plodded over, waved at Byakuya briefly while yawning, and curled up beside Zaraki’s leg, head on the pillow and shoulders in his lap. He returned his attention to the patrol schedule, changing which hand he was writing with to gently stroke her hair. 

“...I didn’t know you were ambidextrous.”  Byakuya blinked.  Perhaps this was the key to his success as a swordsman with no experience in kendo?

“Nah, I’m Buddhist.” he shrugged. “Right, where were we-?"

"I believe were up to May." nodded Byakuya, tabling his questions of handedness for now.

"May... That’s right before graduation and when everyone who is gonna quit or transfer does, right before summer scheduling so I’ve got a skeleton crew until the end of June-”

“Every division has the same problem, but yours does tend to suffer it more severely.” Byakuya agreed, watching Yachiru roll over and pull Zaraki’s leg closer like a stuffed toy, apparently setting quickly.  "Prob'ly a terrible idea, but what about dropping bait in a few tactical spots so we draw the hollows to places that can be managed with fewer patrols, rather than try to cover more ground.” Zaraki suggested, tapping a few open plains on the map.

“It’s been done in the middle districts with good results.” Byakuya nodded. “The difficulty is in the cities, where there is too much cover to patrol effectively, and in the more remote regions, where bait doesn’t have the range to effectively draw the hollows in.  But it may alleviate some of the staffing issues…”

Half an hour later they’d worked out a reduced patrol schedule that would still likely catch the majority of hollows approaching human settlement, when they were interrupted by Yachiru’s soft snores. Zaraki paused mid-sentence to grin apologetically, and turned his attention back to Yachiru, shaking her shoulder until she rolled over and quieted down. 

“She sleeps very soundly, but not if you’re absent?” Byakuya asked, watching the girl in the yellow lamplight.

“Yeah, but it’s not really a surprise.” Zaraki shrugged. “If anything, it’s that she’s taken to sleeping in her own bed as much as she has.”

“At her age?”  Ages were a relative thing in the soul society, but Yachiru was reading well and getting her adult teeth, as she had demonstrated her loose incisor at the last captain’s meeting- by the time he’d done so, Byakuya had been commanded to sleep in his own room for well over a decade. 

“I mean-  Sure, she’s five hundred thirty-eight now, but she spent nearly all of that homeless with me.  She was just a cabbage when I found her, and you don’t sleep without something between you and the ground, but you really don’t let a baby sleep where they’ll get cold, so for the first couple decades she slept inside my Kosode, then after it was on my chest, and then when she got to heavy for that she slept in my lap and now it’s by my back or under my arm.” He explained fondly, stroking her hair out of her face. “I’ve been her bed for half a millennium now, and I’ll probably be her bed when I’m ten thousand years old and nothing but bones and liver spots.”

Byakuya was silent for a long time.

…Had he ever slept in his father’s arms?  If he did, he had no memory of it.

“That’s a miserable mug.” Kenpachi said, nudging his arm. 

“I am rather morose this evening, it seems.”  He sighed, looking out at the moon. 

“Any hope of cheering you up?” he offered, gesturing around the small room that made his home, broadly offering whatever he had on hand.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but I do not think so.”  Byakuya shook his head.

“Ah. Monsoon mood kind of thing.” Kenpachi nodded, and frowned, turning something over in his head.  “If you’re already going to be miserable, can I ask something awful?”

Byakuya tilted his head a bit to indicate he was listening.

“Yachiru goes to your place a lot- don’t get me wrong, I’m thankful for every minute you’re willing to watch her. Was hard enough taking care of her out in the Rukongai, but now with the job- thanks.”

“It is… pleasant. To have her company.” Byakuya nodded. “Thank you for trusting me with her care.”

Kenpachi nodded in acknowledgement, chewing his lip. “...Last time, when I came to pick her up, I saw a lotta toys in the compound.  Cute stuff- dolls, the tea set she badgered you and Jushiro into playing tea ceremony with her-   But no other kids. You an’ Rukia really are the last generation, aren’t you? At least, until one of you is lucky enough to have kids.”

Byakuya looked up at Kenpachi, eyes hardening a bit in suspicion.

“...You used to be married.” Kenpachi continued.

Byakuya glared outright.

“-My condolences. Honestly. I’m not so lucky in love as you were, and losing her suddenly like that must’ve felt like getting your chest ripped open, ‘cept you don’t get the mercy of dying too.”

“What was it you wanted to ask?” Byakuya demanded, voice hard and dangerously quiet..

“I worked with a lotta women, and saw the problems they have up close. Retsu’s a damn good doctor, but even she can’t stop something if she doesn’t know it’s there to stop. Like an internal hemorrhage or septic infection, where there’s no outside problem and everyone tells women they’ll be sick and in pain during a pregnancy, so she just ignores it for a few hours but by then-”

He was interrupted by the crunch of wood as Byakuya’s fingers dug into the table.

“What was her name?” Asked Kenpachi.

“Hisana.”  Byakuya growled. “My wife’s name was Hi-”

“-Not her.” Kenpachii growled back. “Who was the little girl all those toys at the compound were intended for?”

Byakuya froze. 

“You had the baby sexed, or you wouldn’t have gotten dolls and tea sets. Surely you picked out a name.”  Kenpachi met his gaze, cool and unflinching like iron. “What was your daughter’s name?”

For a minute, there was only the horrible numbess of grief.

“...Noriko.”  Byakuya finally whispered, hands shaking as he let go of the table and hid his face. “My daughter’s name was Noriko.”

“Noriko.” Kenpachi nodded.  His face didn’t exactly change but the hardness was gone.

Byakuya choked, hands pressed to his mouth. “I never-  nobody’s ever said her name aloud-”

“Noriko.”  Kenpachi repeated, and Byakuya sobbed.  “Noriko, daughter of Hisana and Byakuya.”

Byakuya crumpled, hand clasped to his mouth to try to stifle the sobs, staring at Yachiru, still snoring in her father’s lap, tears streaming down his face and staining his scarf.  There was a weight on his shoulder.  It belonged to Kenpachi’s hot, scarred hand.

“I’m sorry.” Kenpachi’s voice was barely a whisper, eyes maybe just a bit red too. “But I needed to know, so I can ask what I actually need to ask.”

“What?” Byakuya whimpered, staring back at him.

Instead of answering, Kenpachi let go and shook Yachiru’s shoulder. “Hey, Kiddo.”

“Mgh?”  She blinked. 

“I need to get up a minute and your uncle needs a hug.” he said, pulling her up into a sitting position. 

“ -’kay.” she yawned, getting up and plodding over to Byakuya and leaning into his shoulder, eyes still closed. He held her, trying to not squeeze too hard, face in her own shoulder, gasping-

“Bya-chan?”  She mumbled, blinking at him. “You okay?”

“Just-  Just missing someone.” he stammered.  Kenpachi was rifling through the file cabinet on the other side of the room. 

“Oh.  Here-”  Yahiru said, straightening up and hugging him back properly.  

He couldn’t stop the sob this time, squeezing Yachiru to his chest for a long moment. “...Thank you, Kusajishi-san.” “ ‘s Yachiru.” she groaned, rolling her eyes at him. “Sorry, ‘m really tired…”

“-Curl up on him, I can’t find the damn thing I was looking for.” Kenpachi called from the other side of the room. 

“ -‘kay. G’night.”  Yachiru mumbled, sliding down Byakuya’s chest and immediately settling in his lap. He had to fight the urge to sob again, trying to hold still and cradle her. He watched her eyelashes flutter and she drifted off, the way she wiggled to make herself more comfortable, the slow rise and fall of her chest as she slept-

“She out?” Kenpachi asked, peering over the table. 

“Y-yes, I believe so.” Byakuya whispered, trying to not wake her. 

“Good, I don’t want her hearing and worrying.” Kenpachi grunted, sitting down again and placing a file folder on the table between them.  “Sorry to ask you such a bitch of a question but-  Well.  Needed to know the measure of man you are.”

Byakuya watched as Kenpachi pulled off his haori off his left shoulder, with a small grunt of pain, followed by the same shoulder of his kimono and kosode-  Byakuya belatedly realized the thing that had looked off about Kenpachi earlier was that his uniform was closed up properly for once, as he stared at the bandages, gauze, still-healing stitches and brace that was only barely holding the left half of his ribcage together. 

Apparently the campaign in the realm of the hollows had been harder on Kenpachi than he had let on. 

“Restu said the blade that fucking thing had got within half an inch of my heart, and that almost wouldn’t have mattered with the amount of broken bones and other damage.”  he explained, wheezing “I have the devil’s own luck somehow, but I’m not convinced that I’m actually immortal, so I needed to know-”  he pushed the file folder closer to Byakuya and opened it, revealing legal documents. 

“-If something happens to me, will you be Yachiru’s Godfather?”  He asked,head bowed and his only mobile hand up like he was begging. “You’re her favorite person in this city after me, and now I’m sure you’ll take good care of her-”

"You are spectacuarly bad at diplomacy, Zaraki." Byakuya sighed as signature was already drying on the paper.

[gallavichpreg]

🟠 E5: Pre-Pregnancy Clothes

Laundry day.

Mickey sorts through his newly washed clothes, picking them out of the hamper one by one, and folding them neatly on the bare mattress. Shirts. Pants. Socks. Boxers. Pick, fold, repeat. The sheets and covers are still in the wash, and since they always take a while to get clean, he’s got a good chunk of time to kill.

Time to get his shit together.

“Fuck.” He mutters to himself, carefully setting another warm shirt down onto the bed. “I can’t be wearing this shit too much longer.” He stares down at it contemplatively, his shoulders tensing. It’s only been a few days since he and Ian went down to the clinic, and found out that he was pregnant. Seven weeks along, the doctors said. Eight weeks now. Over halfway through the first trimester. “I’m gonna be too big.”

Mickey’s been dealing with the news well… the best way he knows how. At first, he was scared… then he was angry… but, after the dust settled, and all of the emotions passed, he just stopped thinking about it altogether. As far as he’s concerned, if he just soldiers through the morning sickness and goes on as though nothing’s changed, he won’t have to deal with it at all. He doesn’t want to talk about it… so he and Ian don’t talk about it. He refuses to pay attention to the way that he’s eating, to start getting more rest, or do any of the other things that the folks at the clinic recommended for him. He doesn’t want Ian to touch him, or be all sappy with him. There’s nothing to be sappy about. He does all of the same things that he’d been doing before… or as much of it as his body will allow… convinced that he can go on this way until he’s too pregnant to ignore it anymore.

“I’m… I’m gonna be too big.” He says again. Staring down at that shirt… a shirt that he’s only owned for less than a year, all of the thoughts and feelings that he’s been trying so hard to suppress come pouring out of him. Even standing a foot away from the bed, he can already see the curvature of his stomach jutting out just below his line of vision. It’s growing so fast. All of that worry and angst gushes from his pores like sweat, clinging to his skin… and, for the first time since the day that he and Ian found out about the baby, he speaks about it out loud. “I’m already so big! I’m… I’m not getting new clothes.” His hands trembling, he tosses the shirt back into the hamper, as if to reverse time. “Fuck this. I’ve gone this long without having to buy any new shit. Eight weeks, and my stuff still fits. Eight fucking weeks!” Turning his back to the bed, he takes a breath and stares at the wall, going back to that disconnected place that he’d been in for the last few days. “I get too big, I’ll… I’ll just wear Ian’s shit. I don’t gotta worry about that.”

That familiar numbness washing over him once again, he sits down on the exposed mattress—his bare ass against the soft fabric. He’s done with the laundry now. He’s done. Whatever’s left of it is going to be Ian’s problem.

[alexbkrieger13]

https://www.theguardian.com/football/2024/feb/22/how-to-stop-spain-and-aitana-bonmati-moving-the-goalposts-nations-league

How to stop Spain and Aitana Bonmatí. Well, how to try at least

for my first column for Moving the Goalposts I was asked: how do you beat Spain? Well, it is easier said than done. When my Sweden team faced them in Gothenburg in September I had a moment which felt like an out-of-body experience: I could see clearly which kinds of balls they wanted to play and the patterns of their passes. They like to play diagonal passes from the No 6 up to the No 8s and, from there, switch the play. The problem, though, was reacting to it as they are just so quick.

I’ve seen them close up probably more than I’d have liked in the past year – three times, in fact, as we lost a World Cup semi-final to them and then suffered late defeats in both our Nations League group games against them.

Now it is time for the Nations League semi-finals. France face Germany and the Netherlands have the unenviable task of taking on Spain. When I think about what makes them so formidable, I’d start with two things: the amount of quality players and that winning culture, which begins with their youth national teams. They’ve won four of the last five Under-19 Euros and been to the final in seven of the last eight Under-17 Euros. In other words, just reaching a tournament is not enough – their attitude is “we’re going to be there until the end”. The same goes at club level with Barcelona.

In fairness, with Sweden we were close in both Nations League group games: we interrupted their rhythm and were close to getting a draw. We like to press high and force mistakes and, at home, I scored the opening goal and we managed to disrupt them quite well. However, we didn’t have energy to do it for the whole game and lost 3-2.

In Málaga we played a new 3-5-2 formation as we wanted to get a higher press on their centre-backs and also – with our three centre-backs – to cover the inner corridors that they are so good at exploiting. We won the ball high and led 3-1 at half-time. But after an hour a little player called Aitana Bonmatí came on and changed the game, and we ended up losing 5-3.

View image in fullscreenThis is an example with Alexia Putellas this time positioning herself in the same area, making it really difficult for us to decide who should mark her. Photograph: SvFF

Another player I’d like to mention is Salma Paralluelo, who has added a new dimension to Spain’s game. She is so quick that you can’t just have a high line against them as you might get caught out behind instead. Previously, Spain had forwards coming short so you could keep the team really compact but with Paralluelo it makes that really difficult.

Spain’s opponents in Seville on Friday, the Netherlands, have resilience and some good attacking players but the challenge will be to play the perfect game for 90 minutes. When you have the energy, you can press Spain and get the ball in good areas but they’re so good at tiring teams out, as they showed in the World Cup final against England. You retreat into a mid or low block and then you are just chasing and looking at what they are doing. And that means that when you do win the ball, it is hard to have ideas and keep hold of it – they are so quick at trying to regain it, while you are still tired.

If there is one weakness in Spain, it is the fact they do concede goals – nine in six Nations League group games. At Chelsea we always had the mantra that goals win you games but defence wins you championships and, as a defender, I like to believe that is true. That said, Spain scored 23 at the other end so maybe they have cracked the code – as long as you score an extreme amount of goals then it is OK not to be so solid. However, that could be where other teams have a chance.

As for the other semi-final between France and Germany, the French had a strong group stage, dropping just two points and conceding only one goal. They are a team with a core of experience as well as individual flair and they have Marie-Antoinette Katoto looking dangerous again after her long-term injury. However, as a Bayern Munich player I hope my German friends will go through and I do think they have grown as a team. Since moving to Bayern I have noticed that German football has a similarity with Swedish culture in that everyone is expected to work for the team. An example is Klara Bühl, my Bayern colleague, who is one of their key attacking players but still works really hard for the team. With that attitude, I fancy them to reach the final.

Credit to Spain campaigners

It is not just on the pitch that I admire Spain. As a member of FifPro’s global players’ council, I have followed their story off the pitch too and before the game in September, I managed to say, very briefly, how much I respected them for the way they have stood up and demanded changes from their FA – and got them. The week leading up to that match they had had late-night meetings, little sleep and plenty of stress yet still managed to come to Gothenburg and play a really good game. I am impressed with how, between their struggles, they have managed to stay focused on their football and win a World Cup.

Nations League format should follow men’s example

On a broader note about this first Women’s Nations League, it has been a welcome addition even if, timing-wise, it was tough from a player’s perspective to regroup and go again so soon after the World Cup. However, when I look at the fact Spain and France each play their semi-final at home, I do believe it would have been better to follow the men’s example and have a ‘final four’ event in just one place. It would have been a better spectacle and would make more sense from a commercial perspective – not to mention a sporting one as it is a huge advantage for Spain and France to each have a home semi-final.

[aeoki]

Number Eight - Tripping: Chapter 7

Characters: Rinne, HiMERU, Kohaku & Niki Location: Los Angeles Townscape

TL Note:

A pure culture of an organism is a culture which is obtained from a single strain having no contamination of other strains of organisms. Basically, Niki is trying to say that Rinne was raised in a pure environment, free from other influences/culture.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ< After some time. >

HiMERU: Three hours left. It seems “Number Eight” is finally coming to an end.

Niki: Let’s hurry and find the goal while Rinne-kun’s resting in the car.

Kohaku: Where are the clues for the goal hidin’, anyway? I wish we had somethin’ more specific.

Rinne: Sorry to make ya wait, guys!

HiMERU: That voice–

Niki: Rinne-kun! You’re finally awake. Are you feeling okay?

Rinne: You betcha. Rinne-kun slept like a baby, so he’s in tip-top condition ☆

Kohaku: Thank goodness… Still, it’s rare to see you sleep for that long.

Did you feel like a fish out of water?

Rinne: Probably. The water and air was just so different here, so I guess I must’ve used up more energy than I’d thought.

But who knew we had this sorta weakness~? Man, I’ve never been more envious of Niki’s sturdy stomach.

Niki: There’s a lot of nature back in your hometown, right, Rinne-kun~? It’s kinda like pure culture[⁎].

Rinne: I don’t wanna hear that from you. There aren’t that many things that can rival your purity, Niki. Or in terms of cooking, anyway.

Well, I’m sure the only reason I got used to living in the big city was all thanks to your cooking. But now that I’m overseas…

I ended up passing out due to starvation and lack of sleep. Haven’t done that in a while.

Dunno if someone cast a spell on me or something, but I found myself at our destination when I woke up.

You guys can’t drive, right? If you guys committed a crime, then even I can’t help you then, ya know?

HiMERU: Don’t worry. We came up with a plan for that.

You should be able to understand what happened if we told you we borrowed a staff member’s phone and used all our money to call a towing car over.

In any case, we need to find the goal.

But we don’t have any clues. There hasn’t been any new information from the tablet, either.

Kohaku: “Go back the path you came and find the goal”... the mission itself sounds simple, but we’re stumped because we don’t have any clues.

Niki: We should have more luck if we had some clues~

Rinne: Oh? You guys really have no idea?

There was a huge clue on the way here.

Niki: Wha? You sound like you know where the goal is, Rinne-kun.

Rinne: You betcha. Don’t underestimate Rinne Amagi-kun the genius…☆

I know exactly what the mean “Number Eight” staff are thinking!

HiMERU: You mean on the way here? Don’t tell me, you’re talking about that?

That banner that was at the place we landed on with the parachutes…?

It had “COME HERE” on it, didn’t it? You’re saying that wasn’t a landing point, but a clue hinting towards our goal?

Rinne: Perfect answer ☆ I’d expect no less from you, Merumeru!

I can be a bit mean, ya know~? I had a lightbulb moment when I saw the tablet saying “go back the path you came”.

It’s pretty convenient for a variety TV show to have both the starting point and the finishing point at the same place, right?

Kohaku: That’s true. It makes sense when you think about all the ridiculous things we’ve been through. They were plannin’ on confusin’ us even further by givin’ us that hint.

Niki: And they wouldn’t be villains if they just gave us a hint from the very beginning. You could even say it’d be our fault if we failed to notice it.

Rinne: If we couldn’t reach the goal, then they could laugh in our faces too.

Gyahaha. That sounds pretty funny in itself, though.

“The problem children of the idol industry fail to notice the clue at the starting point and wander around in circles on the West Coast!”

But we ain’t gonna fall for their trap.

We’re currently in a clean era, where anyone can say whatever they want on social media. They want to be a villain who wants to feel satisfied after arguing with those with differing opinions.

They only care about themselves. We’re in an era where everyone wants to win – they want to argue and eliminate the foreign matter…

If a villain doesn’t exist, then they’ll find another to use for their own satisfaction.

It makes you wonder where the real evil is, huh? Let’s hit back and do a proper job of saying NO to those opinions.

We’ll reach “Number Eight’s” goal, and we’ll sing our hearts out with love and peace. And the ones who are allowed to do that are us, “Crazy:B”, right?

HiMERU: Hehe. You’ve got quite the silver tongue. You said it loud enough for the staff behind the cameras to hear as well.

If you’ve had a good rest, then all that’s left to do is to head towards the goal.

Once again, we’ll be counting on you to drive. You’ll do it, won’t you, Amagi?

Rinne: ‘Course, I will. Right now, the word “impossible” doesn’t exist in my dictionary!

If they’re tellin’ us to “COME HERE”, then we’ll have to do just that…☆

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ← Previous Chapter ᠂ ⚘ ˚⊹˚ ⚘ ᠂  Next Chapter →

[heyclickadee]

My take (that no one asked for) on every single Star Wars show and non-saga movie:

The Clone Wars (movie): It’s…okay it’s rough. This wasn’t supposed to be a movie at all, putting three episodes of the show together and releasing it theatrically was part of the distribution deal with Cartoon Network, as far as I know, and it does show. It’s grown on me, though.

Clone Wars (The Tartakovsky Series): I think I’m probably in the minority here, but I actually don’t love this one. It’s fun, slick, and stylish, like everything Tartakovsky does is, and I don’t dislike it, but it just doesn’t do much for me. It’s cool. Maybe it’s a little too cool. Great art style, though.

The Clone Wars: Very high highs, very low lows. Though to be honest, I actually love a lot of the goofier episodes. They’re fun. It doesn’t have to be all drama all the time. Sometimes you can let Jar Jar be an agent of chaos. Sometimes you can have an episode about interest rates. I don’t have the nostalgia factor going with TCW the way a lot of people do—I didn’t watch it until I was in my twenties—so I do have to admit that it is tied with one other show as my least favorite of the animated shows, but that’s not a bad thing. I still love it.

Ewoks: I’ve only seen about six episodes. It’s veeerry 80’s. I think eight year old me would have gone insane for this show had I seen it. Adult me actually has a bit of a soft spot for it. I’ll watch the rest of it eventually. (Aaaand now I have the theme song stuck in my head. It’s. It’s definitely a theme song.)

Droids: I…haven’t seen it.

Resistance: I finally had a chance to get all the way through this show (I was eyeballs deep in “okay fine we’ll try this college thing AGAIN” when it was airing and just didn’t have time to check it out) and you know what? It’s actually pretty good. It’s definitely skewed even a little younger than Star Wars typically is, but it does what it does really well. Sort of feel like this one is slept on.

The Mandalorian: It’s a fantastic adventure of the week show. I actually don’t dislike the “plot” episodes, but mostly I’m just here to watch what shenanigans Din and his small green force son get into. Season three is weaker than the first two, but I don’t even really think that season is bad. There was some great stuff in it—just uneven and mixed in with some not so great stuff. Overall, good popcorn viewing, as far as I’m concerned.

Andor: Okay, yeah, Andor is fantastic. I do think some of its popularity is that it’s one of two (maybe three) Star Wars shows made for adults more than anyone else, so some people don’t quite have the same “why isn’t this making me feel like Star Wars did when I was a kid?” dissonance watching it, but it is also genuinely amazing. Probably the best thing Star Wars has ever done even if it’s not technically my favorite.

The Book of Boba Fett: Is it a mess? Yes. Do I still enjoy it? Yeah. My main problem with BoBF is that it’s got some serious structural issues. Even besides Din coming in and taking over two whole episodes, I think that the telling the story via flashbacks was a mistake, and that we should have followed Boba through the childhood bits and slowly caught up to him in the present. Maybe revealed it was all a flashback while he was in the bacta tank from there. And I…don’t love Robert Rodriguez’s directorial style all that much, never really have. That said, I do hope we eventually get more of this, though if we do I think it will be folded into something else. Still don’t love the live action pike design. (I actually have a conspiracy theory that BoBF was originally just a few episodes or even a season of The Mandalorian, and that it was made its own thing for marketing purposes.) I want more Boba, more Fennec, and more Sand People, if nothing else.

Solo: One, killing off Val Beckett was a huge mistake. It’s not story breaking or anything like that, but doing so when she’s one of very few black women in Star Wars and half of one of, like, two interracial couples in the entire franchise means that it hits in a way it wouldn’t if she was someone else. So, yeah, don’t like that. Two, the rest of this movie is a blast and audiences just hate fun. I don’t care that no one asked for this movie, it’s fun and campy and there’s a heist and I like it. Three, Enfys Nest has the sickest armor design in the whole franchise and I need more of her.

Kenobi: So…maybe unpopular opinion here, but…I really like Kenobi. Kenobi’s a delight. It’s not perfect, it’s got some problems, but I like that it’s about a guy who’s that depressed and alone slowly regaining his sense of hope, I like that we had something focus on Leia for a while (because Anakin and Padme had two kids and Leia always gets left second string), I like that you’ve got grifters like Haja and former imperials doing what little bits they can to help even though they can’t fight the whole empire. And I know that thoughts are mixed on this, but I actually thought it made a couple bits of A New Hope make more sense where Leia is concerned; kid me could never figure out how she knew who Ben Kenobi was when that was the name he only went by in exile on Tattooine (“Ben Kenobi? Where is he!?”), and it kind of made the switch from the very formal request for aid on behalf of her father to the more personal, “Help me, Obi Wan Kenobi,” a little more poignant, for me, anyway. Reva is an amazing character, she’s a perfect parallel and eventually perfect foil for Anakin, she’s a mess and a he’s in pain and I just. I love her. I have mixed feelings on the live action Grand Inquisitor’s performance (and mixed feelings on the makeup—on the one hand it could be better and on the other hand the other main live action pau’an we’ve got—the actor’s head was just shaped like that). Nevertheless, this show for me was mostly about the big emotional beats, and it hit all of those really well.

The Bad Batch: This is a magnificent show and I adore it apart from That One Thing and the fact that everything was left completely open, even going into the epilogue, apart from Omega’s coming of age and the Hunter’s and Omega’s relationship’s arc. That was resolved very well. I am mildly insane about this show. I love it. Also, it vexes me. Tied with two other shows as my favorite Star Wars show in spite of all that. Amazing soundtrack. Sidebar: If it turns out I’m right and That One Thing is an extended fake out and we’re not quite done with these characters, I’m sorry, but I’m going to be the most insufferable person alive.

The Acolyte: Everyone is very pretty and just a little stupid. Mae is very fun. The good scenes are very, very good. The writing is pretty uneven; judging from interviews I have a completely different view of writing than Leslye Headland and had a hard time picking up why a lot of the characters did anything, but when it hit, it hit. It’s…very CW drama, which isn’t a bad thing—just not always my thing. That said, Sol is a fascinating concept for a character and Lee Jung-jae did an incredible job with what he was given. Same with Qimir and Manny Jacinto. It’s honestly not my favorite Star Wars show, but I’m still disappointed that it looks like it’s not moving forward. The leftover story might end up being folded into the high republic book series, but I still hope we get some kind of on-screen continuation. I think the public needs more of Darth Babe the Jacked.

Rogue One: It’s great. Yes, the entire main cast dies, but the central message was still about hope. Vader gets to pun. I remain somewhat dismayed that the only thing a portion of the audience took away from it was that the Vader hallway scene was cool. He’s a horror movie monster there. Still a great movie. (Also, Saw, why do you have that??)

Young Jedi Adventures: This skews very young; most Star Wars is for kids in the first place apart from Andor, the Acolyte, and mmaaaaaybe the Tales of anthology (the other live action shows are, in my opinion, solidly whole family), but this really is made for very young children. That said, I have watched it, and it’s a very well done show for very young kids. Also I would die and kill for Nubs.

The “Tales Of” anthology series: Yes, I am counting this as one, because even though there’s a shift in focus from the Jedi to the empire between seasons, it all follows the exact same format and structure. I’d argue this series is the one that’s primarily for the adults who either grew up watching Star Wars animation or got into it as adults. It’s good, lots of atmosphere, the episodes do range in quality but I generally like them, and it’s nice they get to play around with different techniques, like making miniatures and incorporating them into the animation. The Dooku and Barriss episodes are probably my favorites.

Ahsoka: I know the fandom is divided on this, like they are on most things, but I love this one, okay? It’s not perfect, but I have a good time watching it. It just happens to be this perfect blend of campy, fun, dramatic, and mystical that really feels like Star Wars for me. I like it when Star Wars gets weird, has silly little guys, and doesn’t take itself too seriously. Lucky for me that this series has extragalactic travel via whale, Ahsoka being dragged to Force Therapy by Anakin, and Ezra hanging out with the space fraggles. That, and I love some of the concepts. I like the idea that force sensitivity isn’t the be all end all, that connecting to the force is something you can learn with practice even if you weren’t blessed with the genetic lottery. Peridea and the space it occupies in folklore is neat. And the music is wonderful. It is a little uneven, it’s not Andor or anything quite that amazing, but I’m eager for more.

Visions: This anthology is fantastic and you’re missing out if you haven’t seen it. I don’t love every entry, but even the weaker ones are worth seeing once, and the stronger ones are worth seeing a whole lot more than that. It’s a great blend of styles and takes from people normally not involved in creating Star Wars. This is in a three way tie for my favorite Star Wars show.

Rebels: Again, it’s not perfect, because no show is, but I also think it’s the strongest standalone show Star Wars has besides Andor. Yes, there are weaker episodes, but on the whole it’s remarkably consistent, and the second half of season four might be some of my favorite Star Wars outside of parts of the original trilogy. Also, it has some stunning backgrounds, and while the art style doesn’t always work for every character, the character animation ends up really hitting its stride towards the end of the second season, and just gets better from there. And, as always, the music is fantastic. Rebels rounds out that three way tie for my favorite Star Wars show along with TBB and Visions.

[gaysforbyler]

Rant post because you guys are my only friends, which is kind of embarrassing but the truth. You don’t need to read it i just wanted to get it out.

I hate complaining about my parents bc they’re actually the best parents in the world, but i think I’ve been trying so hard to put them in this perfect little box that i completely ignore how much they’ve fucked me up. So many adults in my life have bullied (emotionally abused?) me because of a mental disorder I have, and I’ve always left my parents off of that list because it really wasn’t that bad with them. They might have made a few offhanded comments, but it was definitely not on the same level at all. I would never classify them as abusive in any sense, but in doing so I ignore the fact that they hurt me in general. My dad just stood there while the “trusted” adults in my life made fun of me in front of dozens of people over and over again, and he did nothing to stop them. That hurts more than anything.

When i was thirteen my worst abuser came into my life. She was my coach, like most of the others, but i was old enough to where my parents didn’t have to watch over me. I went to practice alone, and she tormented me. She pulled me aside in front of my entire team, and scolded me for being disrespectful to her. She said that my actions were not the result of any mental disorder, because she was a psychologist and she would know best. (I wasn’t diagnosed with anything at the time. I thought i was fucking insane. I’m now diagnosed with selective mutism.) She threatened to kick me off the team if i didn’t fix it. I was scared shitless that she would go through with it, because I didn’t know how my parents would react. I thought they would blame me like they had before, so i spent the next year hiding what she did (and continued to do). I was so scared to go to practice that i nearly passed out every week when the time came around. Idk, i just feel like i should have been able to trust someone

I didn’t get diagnosed until i was fourteen. I wouldn’t have gotten diagnosed at all if my cousin hadn’t been diagnosed at the age of nine. It was too late for me. I watched her get better while I made no progress myself. In the past five years, I have only spent two in therapy, because they were too busy to find me a therapist. I can’t make friends, i can’t keep friends, i can’t get a job, i have breakdowns every time i go to the store, I’m wasting my entire life being scared of every human interaction, all because no one cared enough to figure out what the hell was wrong me. I’m never getting better. This is the rest of my life.

And i know i secluded myself from the age of eight. I used to spend all of my time alone as a kid, because it’s how i felt safest. I pushed my family away. But i still feel emotionally neglected. I can’t remember the last time i went to my parents with a problem. I don’t know if i ever have. Maybe that’s because of the anxiety, but i still feel like that’s their fault. I was a child. They could have pushed more, or done literally anything to research what was going on with me. That was their job, and now I’m facing the consequences

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Catching Out: Part Two

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.8k

Summary: Spencer has his suspicions about your parents but you refuse to even listen to him. There is nothing going on with your parents... right? No, they’re normal parents that are just overprotective of you. Spencer is just being paranoid.

Warnings: canon violence, canon language, canon talk of death, methods of kill

Author’s Note: So, I know in previous episodes I had mentioned the reader's birthday is in February, but I forgot that when I wrote this episode. I have decided to change it to April since I've also based some other episodes around her birthday being in April. So, from now on, the reader's birthday is now in April.

I do not own anything from Criminal Minds. All credit goes to their respective owners. If there are any warnings that exceed the normal death/kills from the show, I will list them. If you’ve seen the show, then it’s the same level of angst unless otherwise stated

x

The nearest train tracks around the Modesto home are only a mile away, given it's close enough for the unsub to get off the train and watch the couple he killed for a few nights. There are freight haulers at the train station, and they are willing to talk to you, Derek, Emily, and Rossi when you arrive.

"The guy we're looking for is using freight trains to get around. He targets homes within a mile of the tracks," Derek says after he explained what's going on.

"Bulls and 'bos don't usually cross paths."

"Bulls and 'bos?"

"They call rail cops bulls. We call them 'bos, as in hobos."

"You're saying you rarely see hobos around here?" Rossi asks.

"I see them plenty. To tell you the truth, I'm nothing more than an armed scarecrow. When they see me coming, they get the hell away. Their biggest problem is with each other. If you get two of them in one boxcar, it usually gets ugly."

"So, if a 'bo jumps off one of these trains in a new town, is there someplace he goes first?"

"The jungle. That's what they call the camps. A local one's a couple of hundred yards that way," the man points to where it is.

"Do you happen to have a vending machine in here?"

"Yeah."

Rossi thinks if he has food for them, then they might be willing to tell them what they want to know. Your phone rings, and you step off to the side and answer your boyfriend.

"Where are you?" he asks.

"We're just off Highway 99. We just got done talking to the freight haulers. I think I'm going to drive back up to you and leave them down here. Though, I can tell this area is nothing but crops. There are neighborhoods on one side, and the other are all crops."

"They are farmlands. You can't see that from standard road maps."

"The railway track runs parallel to Highway 99 most of the way. I think I'm seeing a lot of what the unsub saw."

"Most of central California is one big valley. It's a flat basin surrounded by mountain ranges on all sides, supported by rivers, lakes, and aqueducts. It's ideal for farming."

"Well, I don't know what it gets us, but I think we should at least factor it into the conversation."

"I agree."

"I'll see you in about an hour." You hang up on him and approach Rossi who has a couple of candy bars in his hand. "I think I'm going to drive up to Sacramento. You two can handle it down here, right?"

"Yeah. We got it."

"I'm going to come with you," Emily says.

By the time you two get to the headquarters in Sacramento, they are ready to give the profile. Spencer told Hotch and JJ about the farmlands, so they have a better-sculpted profile to give.

"Let's get started," Hotch announces. "I'd just like to reiterate that this unsub is not getting around on Highway 99. His travels are linked near railway lines."

"He's targeted five homes and killed eight people in six weeks. We're looking for a male, indigent transient between the ages of twenty-five and forty-five. He's fit enough for the physical demands of train hopping, or 'catching out' as they call it," you inform.

"He'll be bruised from jumping on and off trains, and he might also be beaten up from just defending himself in any kind of turf war. He may look homeless, but he's taking clothing from his victims' homes. So, he'll be the only transient on the tracks in clean clothing."

"The trains and the rail yards are his home. When he gets tired of these, he chooses a house to make his own," Hotch says.

"He'll have a pronounced red, dry rash around his mouth and nose. It's what's commonly referred to as a 'sniffer's rash'."

"How do you know that?"

"He takes household cleaners and sniffs them," you explain. "We believe he's abusing them as psychoactive inhalants. He'll use nail polish remover, glue, paint thinner, lighter fluid, or whatever is the cheapest high available. They're referred to as 'tollyheads' because they derive a high from sniffing toluene, a chemical solvent. Once inhaled, the effects are felt instantaneously."

"We believe he's living out a fantasy in these homes. The fantasy is that it is his house for the night. He spends hours enjoying the comforts of his victims' homes. Upon leaving, he takes clothing, money, jewelry, and small electronics. If you get close to him, you won't miss him. He will smell like a combination of human filth and paint thinner."

"Please spread this around to the other departments in neighboring cities. Thank you."

The profile is disbanded, and you look at JJ who takes a seat tiredly. She places a hand on her stomach, and both you and Spencer walk over to her.

"Are you okay?" you ask and sit next to her.

"He's kicking a lot today," she chuckles.

"In the third trimester, there's an average of thirty fetal movements per hour. Babies kick to explore movement and strengthen muscle," Spencer explains.

"Have you ever actually felt a baby kick?" When he shakes his head, she grabs his hand and places it over the area where her son is moving. "Do you feel that?"

"Doesn't that freak you out?"

"No, not at all. Why? Does it freak you out?"

"Very much so."

"Okay, I see how it is," you nod.

Spencer looks at you with a weird expression, but you don't say anything more about it. You and JJ lock eyes, and she knows exactly what you're thinking. JJ's phone rings, and she answers it when she sees it's Penelope.

"Hey, Garica."

"Bad news alert."

"Hold on a second," you tell her. "Guys!" Hotch, the detective in charge, and Emily walk in when you call them. "Go ahead."

"Earlier, I had Garcia look into all unsolved burglary homicides in central California while paying particular attention to small farm towns."

"I found his DNA in three more cities."

"How did I miss this?" the detective sighs.

"Small towns don't always link their evidence up to state or national DNA databases. It can happen when unsubs cross jurisdictional lines."

"What are the cities, Pen?" you ask.

"Tehachapi, Vacaville, and Orange Cove. They're all farm towns, and all super far away from Highway 99."

"Thanks, Garcia. Could you look into the farm life surrounding those areas? The sales of the crops, maybe?"

"I'll hit you back when I have more."

JJ gets up and waddles over to the fan that is blasting. The air conditioner must either be out or not working well. Being pregnant is hard enough, so you want to make this as easy as possible for her. You grab some cold water and a damp cloth and approach her with a smile.

"Here. It looks like you need it."

"Thank you."

She takes the water and gulps half of it down before placing the cloth on her forehead. You kneel next to her chair and look at her stomach with a smile.

"May I?"

"Of course."

You place your hand on her stomach, and she moves it to the spot where her son is kicking. Your eyes light up at the feeling.

"I'm not going to lie. I kind of miss this. It was different before, of course, but when I felt my daughter kick for the first time... It didn't matter how old I was or what happened. At that moment, I felt pure joy."

"How is she doing?"

"She calls and texts me, but she has her own life. She knows I'm here if she ever needs me though. With your baby, though, I am going to be the best aunt ever. I'm going to spoil the shit out of him." You realize your mistake and smile shyly. "Sorry. I don't mean to cuss around him."

"Would you consider having babies with Spencer?"

You look behind you at Spencer and Emily, and you can't help the smile from forming on your face.

"In a heartbeat," you say truthfully. "I'd be very lucky to have his kids, and they'd be lucky to have Spencer as a dad. I can picture it now. He'd play chess with them, but our baby girl would want to play with her dolls instead. He'd read them bedtime stories and dance with them to the music on an old radio. He'd perform magic for them because they'd laugh and he'd never want to stop making them laugh."

"You're happy."

"I am. He makes me feel like I'm the only woman in the world. It's why this is so hard with my parents. My dad doesn't like him, and it hurts me. I know he'll come around eventually, but I just wish he'd get there sooner."

"It'll be alright. I know it."

Spencer looks behind him at you and JJ in thought. Emily sees the look he's giving you, so she nudges him.

"Are you considering it?"

"Considering what?"

"Having baby geniuses one day?" she smiles.

"With Y/N? In a heartbeat," he says truthfully. You two have been together for over two and a half years. He's not ready to be a dad, but he knows that one day, he'd love to have some with you. "I'd be very lucky to have kids with her one day."

Penelope calls Spencer back, and he calls in you, JJ, Hotch, and the detective.

"I've noticed in the cities, including the new ones we've discovered that there's a spike in the sales of certain crops during the time the unsub is there. In the last week of August, the apples in Tehachapi spiked. In the first week of September, the tomatoes in Bakersfield rose. In the second week of September, the fall squashes in Fresno were high."

"He's in town whenever there is a big harvest. If this unsub is riding trains from town to town during big harvests who doesn't have a car or permanent residence, then we're looking at a migrant farm worker."

There is news of another murder close to where you are, so you quickly head over there. The murder is still fresh, so the victims are still lying on the ground in their bedroom. You can't look at the victims without seeing the unsub beating them over and over again.

"He left a shirt on his male victim again," Hotch says.

"That's not all he left." Spencer holds up the newspaper that was printed a couple of days ago. The headline reads 'Modesto Couple Victims of Highway 99 Killer'. "This was printed before we released to the press he's using trains to get around."

"He's taunting us, telling us he's smarter than we are because we got his mode of transportation wrong. The more confident he gets, the more he's experimenting with his ritual."

"The first few murders were five to eight days apart. This one was just one day since Modesto. If we don't find him soon, he's killing another couple tonight."

"Okay, this couple is Hispanic. The previous couples were Caucasian. He switched his victim profile," you say.

"I don't think he knows or cares what race they were. I think this house was just an easy target."

Spencer's phone rings, and he places them on speakerphone.

"Yeah?"

"So, we got something," JJ says from the office. "The jewelry stolen from the home in Sacramento turned up at a pawn shop in Modesto. Garcia just sent you a picture from the security cam. The employee said he was about 5'8", slight build, late thirties, and has dark skin with a red rash around his mouth."

"Circulate the picture, JJ," Hotch says.

"I'm already on it."

x

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[liminalmemories21]

Fuck It Friday

tagged by @jesuisici33.

Apparently I'm just using this tag as a way to post outtakes.

This is a deleted/rewritten from Knave 2 that eventually became "Then - 7 Months Ago (August)". The two bear almost no resemblance to each other, but it was the same idea of TK's past coming back to haunt him. Also, I'm still kind of playing around with the idea of what exactly Carlos's colleagues think of him, and more specifically him and TK.

“Am I a problem for you?”  TK asks suddenly.

And it feels like such a non sequitur that he’s lost.  “What?”

“At the station, am I a problem for you?”

“What did this guy say to you?”

TK shrugs, “Nothing that wasn’t true, and that’s fine when it’s me.  My sins, my penance.”

“How very Catholic of you,” Carlos says dryly, on autopilot, trying to find the plot thread to this conversation.

TK smiles briefly, but the smile drops away again almost instantly.  "The guy who taught me how to grift, he told me once that you have to get out of the game as soon as you have something you aren’t willing to lose."

And he’s not following, and feels stupid.  TK gives him an unhappy look.  “I thought I’d done it right.  I got clean.  I got out.  But it’s always going to follow me around, I just don’t want it to follow you around too.”

He reaches out, and then stops just shy of touching TK, not sure if he’s welcome.  “I think I’m going to need an actual verb at some point.”

“I’ve heard people talking, at the station, when I drop something off, or if I meet you there.”

“Who?” he asks sharply.  “Garvey?  Because Garvey’s a dick to everyone who isn’t a middle aged white guy.”

TK frowns, “No, not Garvey, although that kind of proves my point.”

“TK seriously, can you start at the beginning and just keep going until the end so I can figure out what the hell is going on?”

TK looks up, startled.  “Shit.  I’ve never actually seen you lose your patience.”  He glances at his watch.  “That took what, eight months?  That has to be a record for me.”

He gives in to exasperation and worry and tugs TK over to the couch and pulls him down.  “TK.”

TK’s smile is brief and humorless.  “Massey - the guy on the our Board - he said he’d been talking about the program over dinner, mentioned my name.  Next day his brother-in-law stopped by his office with a bunch of stories about me - true stories as it happens, although I’m not sure he cared a lot about asking that question.  He said he’d brought it up with Tanya who was,” he makes air quotes, “‘woefully naive’, so it was his responsibility as a Board member to keep an eye on me.”  He waves a hand, “which, whatever, as long as he doesn’t try and get me fired I don’t actually care.”

“But?”

TK blows out a breath, “But then he mentioned you.  Said he’d heard that we were involved.  Said that was the kind of thing that didn’t reflect well on young detective,” he scowls, “dude seriously talked like he was an 80 year old out of Dickens’ novel.”  He flicks a glance at Carlos.  “He said, it was the kind of thing that made people think twice about coming for backup.”

Carlos takes a steadying breath.  “Okay, sweetheart, this is what’s been tying you up in knots?”  TK nods, frowning.  “I’m gay, Tejano, and a legacy hire.  People thought twice about coming for backup a long time before I started dating you.”

TK flashes him a wry smile.  “You’re saying I should get over myself?”

He snorts, “I’m saying that I know who to trust and who not to, and none of that is a calculus that’s changed in the last eight months.  And, even if it had, I still wouldn’t give you up for it.”

“I can’t be the reason you get hurt,” TK says seriously.

“Off the top of my head I can think of five people at the station you might have overheard saying shitty things about me.  They’ve been saying them since I got there.  I worked hard for my job, and I earned it whatever anyone else might think.  And, I’m not giving it up because someone who's living in a fantasy of the 1950s doesn't want me there, and I'm sure as hell not giving you up for them."

“How do you go to work every day if you think that?”

He looks at TK with a straight face, “Well it helps that I’m 99.9% sure that I’m having much better sex than they are.”

TK gapes at him for a moment, and then shoves him, hard and he topples back into the sofa cushions laughing.  “This is your idea of being comforting?”

He straightens up, and reaches for TK’s hand with less hesitation this time.  “I think I can’t change anyone’s opinion by willing it, all I can do is live up to my own expectations for myself and hope that they can respect that.  Giving up someone I love, because someone tells me to, I couldn’t respect myself if I did that, so how can I ask someone else to respect me?”

TK looks at him seriously.  “I think you’re giving other people too much credit, but it’s working in my favor so I’m not gonna argue too hard.”

tagging anyone who has outtakes they want to share, because like anyone who grew up with DVD blooper reels, I love me an extra.