#One of the Most DANGEROUS Places in Mexico?!

[baronessvonglitter]

Blue Hour

outlaw!Joel Miller x runaway hitchhiker!f!Reader

Word count: 2.8K

Summary: hitchhiking in the cruel Texas desert, you're picked up by a handsome stranger

WARNINGS: outlaw!Joel (not mentioned exactly what criminal activity he's involved in, but he does bear scars and looks as if he's been in a fight recently), also he's on the run, brief mentions of parental abuse and alcoholism, strangers to lovers, loss of virginity, unprotected p in v sex (birth control is briefly discussed), soft!Joel (he's respectful of boundaries)

Author's Note: I had initially wanted to do a trucker story, but thought that the criminal element fit better here. I would absolutely love to see a trucker!Joel fic if it doesn't already exist. Please do tag me if it does! Also this is lightly edited but the love is there..

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

You're both running from something; that's how you find each other.

On a lonely stretch of highway in West Texas, Joel Miller picks you up on the side of the road, his mindset one of penance. If he does a good thing by saving someone maybe he can save himself. You're just glad to get away, as far away as possible from a mom who drank all the time, berated you, beat you, and was only at her most peaceful when she was passed out cold.

It's a danger in and of itself to get into Joel's truck, and a danger to come into his motel room, but to you, any other place is safer than where you grew up. The little roadside motel is brightly lit, welcoming, the sign neon against the cerulean summer evening sky.

By the fluorescent glow of the cheap TV screen with its staticky channels you exchange your stories. Joel doesn't tell you much apart from the fact that he's headed to New Mexico, and the scar on his nose, the way he's healing from a black eye you surmise is probably from a couple weeks ago. He carries a gun and his wallet is thick with cash. You can tell he's bad news but you don't care. You're just happy to have a roof over your head for the night and a plan of some sort of future taking shape in your mind.

With only one bed he offers to take the floor, but you insist it's fine to share. He's been a gentleman so far, despite the obvious flirtatious vibes you've been giving. It's impossible to keep to yourself as you both settle down to sleep. Your new life started the day you walked away from your home. You're a different person in this bed, laying on a cheap mattress with a handsome stranger. And, though you've never gone much farther than kissing, the newness of desire tugs at you from deep within.

"Joel.." his back is turned to you and he barely catches you calling for him. You press your hands to his back, which immediately gets his attention. He looks at you with slight confusion, as if he'd forgotten you were there, and when he sees the meaningful look in your eyes he knows what it is you want, and you don't stop him when he pulls you close.

Joel's fingers tangle in your hair, his other hand roaming over your waist and hip, caressing and claiming you with a hungry and desperate fervor. You moan softly, your tongues dancing against each other, and you melt under the sweet shared pleasure. Your fingers slip beneath his shirt, feeling the broad smooth expanse of his back.

His senses are afire as your fingers trace along his bare skin, and his own hands continue to wander, skimming along your sides, gently caressing the curve of your hip. He pulls back just enough to take a breath, his forehead coming to rest against yours, breathing in short, shallow gasps.

"I like the way you taste," you tell him, your confession soft and simple in the twilight glow of the room, your words caressing his lips. Joel's eyes darken with desire as he gazes at you in the semi-darkness.

"Yeah? And how do I taste, darlin'?" There's an edge of a growl to his words, his fingers stroking softly along your cheek, a fusion of longing and restraint etched into his expression.

"Like cinnamon, and whiskey," you whisper. "You taste like pleasure.."

He pulls you closer, nudging his nose against yours as a low, possessive growl rumbles in his chest. "You taste like sunshine and sweetness, sugar.." He dips his head back down to capture your lips in another searing kiss, his tongue slipping between your lips, swallowing your moans. Every sound, every gasp you make, fuels the fire burning within him, igniting an intoxicating blend of desire and hunger.

One arm wrapped around your waist, his other hand slides down your back, trailing fire along your skin as he moves lower, gently cupping your ass and pulling you against the heated length of his body. You gasp at the intimate touch. The way he presses you to his hardness awakens and excites something in you. "Joel!" you gasp.

The sound of his name, breathed out so sweetly from your lips, sends a shiver down his spine. "That's it. darlin'.. say my name.."

You whimper at the sweet friction as he continues to deliberately press you to his hardened arousal, kneading your cheeks. "Joel.." you say obediently, whispered in innocent pleasure.

He groans softly. "That's my good girl.." He presses you against him once more, allowing you to feel the full extent of his arousal, the heat and weight of it grinding against your core. Desire floods your veins and you slowly undulate your hips, finding little comfort in merely rubbing against him. "Fuck, you drive me crazy, darlin'," his voice is husky and raw with need.

"I want you.. please don't make me wait.." you tell him.

"Yeah? You want me.. like this? Is this how you want me to fuck you?" Joel's voice drips with primal need as he grinds against you, feeling the heat and wetness, his own arousal painfully hard at this point.

You nod, your breath catching in your throat. "I can't think about anything else right now. Just you.. with me."

"Darlin', I can't hold back anymore.." he warns, but he takes time to ask about birth control, and you assure him you are covered.

You reach up to kiss him, before breaking apart a moment to take off your top and help him remove his own. The feel of his warm flesh against yours is heavenly. He bears scars and old wounds upon his flesh, evidence of a life lived in danger. But right now you only think about how warm he feels, how strong he is. "I just want to feel your skin against mine for a little bit.."

Joel's touch is almost reverent as his large, calloused hands roam your bare skin, learning the contours of your soft supple flesh, cupping each breast. "My sweet girl.." he whispers in awe.

Likewise, you trace every little scar, thinking on how each of those fights, those deadly interactions, brought him one step closer to you. "I need you," he whispers, feeling more alive, brand new under the heat of your palms on his chest. His fingers find the waistband of your panties and his eyes quickly flick to yours, seeking permission. "Is this all right?" You nod eagerly, "Lift up your hips for me," comes his quiet command, and he gently tugs at the elastic, slowly pulling your panties down your thighs. He sees you laid bare before him, your inner thighs moist with desire, the curls on your mound dewy with want. "God damn.. you're so beautiful.. I wanna taste you.." he groans, pressing a heated kiss against the sensitive skin just beneath your hipbone.

You sigh at his kiss, his beard pleasantly scratching your skin. "Yes.. please.."

Joel's tongue flicks out to taste the heated flesh between your thighs, groaning softly at the flavor of you on his tongue before he begins to lick through your slick, puffy folds. He smiles as you gasp, your eyes wide and mouth parted in an O. "Joel!" you moan, panting as his tongue explores you. When he said he wanted to taste you, you assumed he meant more kissing. You hadn't expected this, hadn't known this was possible. Your fingers fist in his hair as he continues. He groans against you, the sound vibrating deliciously against your cunt. "Taste so sweet,.. like heaven.. my sweet girl.." he whispers between long, languid licks, his arms wrapping around your trembling thighs, holding you open for him as he feasts. His tongue flicks and dances over your clit, swirling and teasing, wanting to learn every inch of you, what makes you scream and what makes you whimper, getting drunk on your taste like a thirsty man lost in the desert.

Your hips arch up to meet each lick, each worshiping swipe as his pace becomes more insistent, following the sound of your moans and sighs, feeling the shivering in your body, his tongue flicking and circling in a hungry rhythm, determined to bring you to the brink.

Your thighs start to quake but he expertly keeps them spread open, feasting on you. "God! Joel, I'm coming!" Pleasure uncoils from the very center of you, radiating outward, controlling every other sense and thought. His hands grip your shaking thighs, lapping up all your sweet nectar. "That's it, darlin', let go for me.. I got you.." he whispers. He gently eases you through your orgasm, tongue slowing, savoring every drop he can. "God damn, sweetheart.. you taste so damn good.. you doing okay?"

"Yes," you pant, a light sheen of sweat forming on your skin. "Oh, Joel," you moan, bringing him to you for a kiss and tasting your flavor on his lips and tongue. He rises, crawling up your body until his weight is draped over you, his arms caging you in as you kiss, sharing your taste with you. He gazes down at you, the way you trust him implicitly ignites a mix of feelings: a raging, possessive need, a deep sense of responsibility, and a swelling of unbridled affection and adoration. He lifts a hand to gently caress your cheek, his thumb tracing soft patterns against your skin. You can see his heart and soul bared to you in that simple touch. Your skin is flushed, hair mussed, eyes bright. You've never looked more beautiful.

Joel shifts his weight, pressing closer against you, the pressure of his hard length against your hip undeniable as your eyes meet. You take him gently into your hands, grasping and feeling him. He groans at the softness of your hands wrapping around his arousal, eyes glazing over with pleasure. "God.. I want you.. need to feel you around me, sweetheart.."

You sense now that you have the power. Slowly you run your hands over his rigid cock, swiping your thumb across the tip, wiping away a bead of moisture. "Is it going to fit?" you ask, feeling the heft of it, both length and girth.

A guttural groan rumbles from his chest and his head bows down to bury his face against your neck. "It'll fit, sugar, I promise. Just take your time."

Your heart skips a beat. This is the ultimate thing that can bring you together, and will forever change what you mean to each other. "I'm ready for you.."

Joel's hands gently grip your thighs, guiding you to move and open further as he positions himself between your legs, the head of his cock resting against your entrance. His heart pounds as he looks down at you. "You sure, darlin'? I promise I'll go slow."

"I'm sure. I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

"Okay, just tell me if you need me to stop. I don't wanna hurt you." He presses to you a little more, eager to fill you but waiting on your word.

"Kiss me," you whisper.

He pours all his love and need into the kiss, swallowing your gasp as he presses forward, his thick cockhead just barely breaching you, his groan joining with yours at the feel of your tight heat around him. You break the kiss, resting your hands on his shoulders as he enters you, a little at a time. His fingers dig into your thighs, his expression a cross between pleasure and concern as he pauses, giving you a chance to adjust to him. "How is that, sweetheart? Am I hurtin' you at all?"

"Wait." You press your hands to his chest. "Wait a little bit," you pant, forcing yourself to relax around him in order to accommodate him.

Joel nods. "Take your time, sweetheart. I ain't goin' anywhere." He stills himself, using every inch of willpower in his possession, "Just breathe, darlin', you're doin' so good," he coos. "You feel so damn good... touch yourself, darlin'," he growls.

Your breath falters as you acquiesce, fingers flitting lightly over your distended clit, adding pressure, circling the cluster of nerve endings, making yourself wetter, letting him slide in a little bit more. Joel fights to maintain his control. "Fuck, you feel so good, so tight."

Despite his willingness to take it slow, your hormones are asking for something else. "Take what's yours," you whisper. "I want you to."

A deep groan rips loose from his chest at your words, the sound thick with need and desire, his control fraying at the thought of claiming you with a hard and deep thrust. "Take a deep breath, darlin'." He takes your hand, lacing your fingers together, his grip reassuring. "I love you, my sweet girl, my sunshine.." He pulls out slightly, his body tensing as he prepares, and his eyes lock with yours as he thrusts forward, hard and deep. You cry out in surprise and pain, which is little more than a brief shock before you become acclimated, leaving you with a lingering dull throb.

"Hey, shh, it's okay, it's okay darlin', breathe for me. You did so good, you took me all, such a good girl," comes Joel's praise as he cups your cheek with one hand and stroking your belly, easing the pressure there from his length taking up room so deep inside you. When you inadvertently squeeze around him, stretching to fit him, it sends a shock of pleasure spiraling through him. "Damn.. if you keep squeezin' me like that I ain't gonna last long, darlin'," he warns. He takes a deep breath, slowly pulling out, savoring the drag of it, before slowly pushing back in, starting a gentle, deliberate rhythm. "You're perfect, sugar."

Soon the friction begins to cancel out the dull ache, more so with each thrust. "Feels good," you sigh.

Joel's eyes flutter closed, his rhythm remaining slow and gentle, the feel of you surrounding him, the feel of being buried inside your warmth as the most perfect sort of pleasure, his breath coming in short pants. "Sweetheart.. oh sweetheart.. oh god.. damn you feel so right, like you were made for me."

"You were right," you smile, "you do fit."

"Yeah darlin', I'm right where I'm meant to be, buried so deep inside my sweet girl." He keeps moving against you, spine tingling with delight as he feels you moving with him, naturally, your bodies in sync with one another. "Yes, just like that.. move with me, sweetheart."

Your brows furrow in pleasure, heart swelling at his praise. "Joel.. give me more.."

He groans, his eyes darkening as his pace quickens, hips rolling forward with a little more determination, the sounds of your flesh slapping together filling the air. "Like this, sugar?"

"Yes! Fuck!" you groan, lightning filling your veins as you move quicker together. Your words shoot straight to his soul, heat pooling and coiling in his gut. "God, Joel, I'm so close!" you whimper. His breath comes in sharp pants as he drives you closer to the edge, his rhythm growing rougher, less controlled. "Me too, sugar. I'm right there with you.. wanna feel you come around me, wanna hear you say my name. Say it, darlin', come for me and say my name."

"God!!" Eyes scrunched tight you let go, coming hard as your cunt clenches around him, fluttering hard and fast. "Oh!! Joel!!" you scream. Joel's pushed over the edge, giving a few jerky thrusts before you feel him twitching and pulsing inside you, filling you with his cum, his thighs shaking from the force of his pleasure. "Oh, fuuuucckk," he groans, burying his face in the crook of your neck, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths, heart pounding wildly.

You feel his heart racing next to yours, almost as if beating with the same cadence, both of you trembling, spent, satisfied. He raises himself on his arms to look down at you. "You're so damn gorgeous, you know that? Especially when you're all breathless and flushed, still quakin' from comin' so hard."

Despite the breathtaking passion you'd just shared, you still blush. "Came hard thanks to you," you give him a soft kiss.

Joel grins, a cocky, proud smirk tugging at his lips, feeling a warm glow in his chest. He gently brushes back a strand of your hair. "How you feelin', sugar?"

"A little sore," you admit. "But I think, considering what we're working with, a little pressure was to be expected," you smirk, still feeling him inside you.

He chuckles, the sound of it making your heart thrum, as he slowly pulls out, knowing your still sensitive. "You took me like a goddamn champ, sweetheart."

You whimper at the loss of him, feeling his cum dribble out of you, and your eyes light up at his praise. "Really?"

"Really." He gazes down at you, his eyes a mixture of speculation and resourcefulness. "You wanna come with me to New Mexico, darlin'?"

divider by @saradika-graphics 👑

[woso-dreamzzz]

Injured IX

Alexia Putellas x Child!Reader

Jenni Hermoso x Child!Reader

Summary: Things get worse before they can get better

Two days after you and Jaume are admitted into hospital, several different things happen.

One: Jenni's manager calls and tells her that she can only take a maximum of two more weeks leave and that she needs to return to Mexico within the month.

Two: Jaume gets much better, very quickly. He's practically good as new and he's allowed out of his room for short periods of time.

Three: The pottery place lets Alexia know that her mug and your train are ready so she goes to pick them up.

Four: She comes back with your ceramic train and drops it on the floor in horror when she sees you being intubated.

'She took a turn for the worse' they tell her. 'We've upped her medication and she should be fine in a few days', they say but all Alexia can think about is the shattered train on the floor and how tiny you look in your bed.

You're moved to the ICU and remain motionless and asleep for days on end. Therein lies the second problem.

The ICU nurses are stricter than the nurses in the peds wing. They say only the legal guardians can go into your room.

You have no father. You had no other mother either, not legally anyway.

You have just Alexia. Just Alexia who can sign off on treatment plans. Just Alexia who can sign you out and be given updates about your condition.

Just Alexia who can go and sit by your bedside and sob.

It was supposed to be a good day. Jaume was better. You were going to get your train.

It's all ruined now and all Alexia can do is sob.

Jenni sobs too.

She can't see you. She can't even enter the ICU. She can do nothing but loiter in the waiting room.

She had nowhere else to go.

Eli and Alba can go and see Jaume but Jenni has nothing to do with Jaume. She just has you.

You who is intubated and asleep in the ICU. You who she had pinned down and so cruelly not explained anything to. You who was still so small and scared and stuck in hospital while Jenni would have to return to Mexico very, very soon.

"How is she?"

Jenni's ex looks away. Alexia looks exhausted, worse than Jenni's ever seen her before. There are bags under her eyes. Her hair looks unbrushed. Her clothes are crumpled.

"The doctors are optimistic," Is Alexia's answer," They think she's fighting really well. They..." Alexia's throat bobs. "They think she'll be strong enough to come off it in a day or two."

"And she can have visitors again?"

"Maybe not as quickly," Alexia explains," I think we should be conservative. Maybe not even until she's fully healthy again. I think-"

"Alexia, I have to leave soon."

Alexia breaks off. "What?"

"Back to Mexico. I've delayed it as long as I can. By the end of the month, I need to be gone again."

"What are you talking about?" Alexia still can't wrap her mind around it. "Back to Mexico? Bambi's still sick."

"I know!" Jenni snaps. "I know, Alexia. And you need to make a decision."

"A decision? Jenni, what are you talking about?"

"You need to put someone else on her papers. You've seen those doctors. We don't get told anything. It's dangerous."

"Jenni-"

"What if Bambi breaks her arm? Me or Olga bring her to hospital and they can't do anything because we're not legal guardians. What would have happened if they couldn't get a hold of you after they intubated her? They can't change treatment plans without parental consent."

"I-"

Jenni sighs, long and drawn out. "I know you have a lot on your plate, Alexia. I know, I do but this is about Bambi and what she deserves and she deserves two people on that birth certificate."

Jenni doesn't say what she wants to say. She doesn't say that she desperately wants you as her own. She doesn't say that she thinks in the deepest, most malicious part of her brain that Alexia has already ruined whatever relationship you had beyond repair. She doesn't say that she thinks a new start in Mexico would be best for you.

She doesn't say that she's already looked at a ballet academy near her apartment and that her club has some of the best childcare options she's seen in a long time.

Jenni doesn't say anything more.

She just turns on her heel and walks out.

Out of Alexia's company, out of the waiting room, out of the hospital.

She doesn't say anything until she's in her car and sobbing into her steering wheel.

Her words float through Alexia's brain even as she sits in Jaume's room with him.

He looks much better than before. The rash is gone. He's moving around again.

The only evidence that he was ever sick at all is the IV still attached to his hand, feeding antibiotics into his body to make sure it's fully gone.

"Something funny, little man?" Alexia coos as he giggles uncontrollably," What so funny, huh? What so funny?" She bounces him gently at each word and Jaume giggles even more.

"The little man's happy he's getting out of here in a few days," Olga says, hooking her chin over Alexia's shoulder," Isn't that right, Jaume? Is that why you're so giggly today?"

Jaume giggle in answer, kicking his feet out.

"Look at these kicks," Alexia coos," My little footballer, huh? Are you going to captain Spain? I think you are!"

"Your Mama and sister went home," Olga says," They'll be here early tomorrow, like always."

"Jenni went as well."

Olga goes to sit in the chair next to Alexia's, frowning. "That's unlike her. I swear, I thought she was going to sneak into the ICU yesterday."

"She told me that she needs to go back to Mexico soon," Alexia says," She's delaying it for as long as possible."

"All for our Bambi?" Olga hums," She really loves her."

"Yeah," Alexia says," She does."

Alexia is in awe of Jenni sometimes. Jenni has always loved you, Alexia thinks. Jenni's always been a part of your life even when Alexia didn't have the energy to care for herself. Jenni had always been there.

Alexia doesn't think she'll ever understand just how much Jenni adores you. You make the planets spin for Jenni. You hang the stars and the moon and sometimes, like now, Alexia wonders if she'll ever be able to live up to that.

If she'll ever be able to give you the life you deserve.

She doesn't want to give you up. Selfishly, she wants a life where she can hold both you and Jaume in bed with her. She wants a life where she can go to Jaume's football matches and your ballet recitals. She wants a life where she can win a Champion's League and see you running onto the pitch to celebrate with her.

But she doesn't know if that's the life you want.

She doesn't know if that's the life you deserve, constantly being shepherded from one thing to another, constantly living in fear that you'll be left behind again.

Alexia knows a life with Jenni, where you're the centre of her world, would be good for you too. But, still, Alexia can't help but let her heart flutter at hearing Olga call you 'our Bambi'.

'Our Bambi'.

Hers and Alexia's.

If you went with Jenni then you would be just Jenni's, no matter if Alexia kept her name on your birth certificate. You would be half a world away. She would see you when Jenni returned for international duty. She would see you a few weeks every year and Alexia doesn't know how she could cope with that.

Alexia doesn't know how she would explain to Jaume about the sister he never sees.

Alexia is your mother and she needs to do what is best for you, despite how selfish she wants to be.

She needs to decide if she can still give you the best life possible or if letting Jenni raise you is truly what will give you the best chance possible.

"Ale?" Olga asks softly, shaking her," You're crying."

Alexia swipes the tears away. "I was just thinking about Bambi. I should probably get back to her. The doctors keep saying that she won't even notice but-"

"But you should still sit with her," Olga says," She deserves to have some company. Here." Olga reaches into her bag.

She pulls out your ceramic train, the one Alexia shattered on the floor after seeing you with a tube down your throat.

"It's still missing a few pieces," Olga explains," But I tried my best. I thought you could put it at her bedside."

Alexia takes it gently, cradling it in her hands. Olga's right. There's still little chips and Alexia can very clearly see where Olga has glued the broken pieces together.

It's still fractured and broken but it's perfect.

"I love you," Alexia chokes out," I love you."

"I love you too," Olga says," Just as I love our kids. Go, Ale. Sit with her. Me and the little man will be right here."

The sun glints on your ceramic train for nearly a week until you wake up.

The doctors keep you asleep until they're certain that the meningitis is gone.

Jaume gets to go home with Olga the day before you get woken up.

There's a crowd outside your room early the next day and Alexia is the only one allowed in.

"We've taken the tube out," The doctors explain," And she'll be coming out of the anaesthesia soon. She'll be a little disorientated and emotional but once she's up, give it an hour or two, we'll check her hearing and her strength and if it all goes well then she should be out of here by late afternoon."

"How likely is it that her hearing's being affected?"

"Meningitis is known to cause hearing loss but I'm optimistic. Despite what's happened, she's fought it every step of the way. There's a good chance she comes out of this without any lasting effects."

"And once she's up? I can let people in?"

The doctor glances over at the assembled crowd. "Only one or two in the room at a time. We don't want to overwhelm her."

"Thank you."

"I'll be back soon."

Alexia retakes her seat at your side, holding your hand gently in her own. Your little hands are perfect to hold in her own. You could probably hold just a finger and it would still be bigger than your whole hand.

"I love you," Alexia whispers as she presses a soft kiss to your forehead," I love you so, so much, Bambi. You're all better now. You just need to wake up."

You don't come to for another thirty minutes or so and, when you finally do, it's slowly.

"Mami," You say," My throat hurts."

Alexia can't help the worried laughter that bubbles out of her throat. It's half in relief and half in how disgruntled you look.

"Mami?"

"Here, Bambi," She says," Sit up. Let's have a little drink."

She holds the glass as you sip the water. You lean easily into the comfort Alexia's offering, your head resting on her shoulder

"Wha's goin' on, Mami?"

"You were sick," Alexia says," But you're better now and you get to leave if everything's okay."

Your brow wrinkles. "I..." Your eyes dart around and Alexia suddenly realises what the doctor meant by you being emotional. "I want Mama! Mama! Want-Want Mama!"

Tears spill down your cheeks and Alexia knows exactly who you want.

She shouldn't take it personally. She knows you're sad and overwhelmed and you're reaching out for comfort for the person that you can't see.

Alexia knows this is normal. She's been told this is normal and yet-

Alexia pushes away her feelings, tucking you into the blankets and pressing a kiss to your cheek that you clearly welcome. "I'll get you Jenni," She promises," Just give me a second."

She pokes her head out of the door.

"Jenni," Alexia says, voice emotionless," She needs you."

Jenni's looking more relieved than Alexia's ever seen her before as she rushes into the room.

"Mama," You say, brow wrinkled and looking up at her with wet, puppy dog eyes," You hurt me."

"I hurt you?" Jenni echoes as she takes Alexia's seat," When did I hurt you, Bambi?"

"When the bad man touched my back and you held my legs."

"I'm sorry, Bambi," Jenni says gently," That was wrong of me. I'm very, very sorry."

You're still confused. Your brain feels like it's full of cotton, all fuzzy and weird like that time the tv made that weird noise and went all staticky.

You lay back down. Your head bounces a little from the force you've thrown it back into your pillow with.

Everything's all jumbled and confused and you gently take Ma-Jenni's hand in your own. She's got big hands with fingers you can wrap your whole hand around and still have your hand be too small.

You know someone else like that, you think and your brain strains to think of who it is.

You get glimpses.

Big hands. A Barcelona kit. Gentle strokes down your back and kisses on your forehead when you're sad.

"Mami," You croak out even as Ma-Jenni climbs into bed with you and cradles you against her body.

Mami was with you earlier. You can remember that. You lift your head to see where she's gone but you can't see her anywhere.

"Mama," You say, tugging on Ma-Jenni's shirt as tears still drip down your cheeks," Mami's gone! Mami's gone again!"

You don't know that Alexia's crying too.

In the bathroom down the hall, staring at herself in the mirror and only seeing your own tearful face reflected back at her.

[plaguedocboi]

Bottomless Pits

We post holes here, sir.

Sinkholes, pit caves, wells and cenotes all have one thing in common; sometimes they’re bottomless. Not truly “bottomless”, of course, but in appearance, reputation, or of incredible depth. We’ve seen a few of these “bottomless pits” in prior lists such as the Lost Sea in Tennessee or the Devil’s Hole in Nevada, but today we will focus on those strange places in the earth that seem to be endless.

1. Laguna Kaan Luum, Mexico

This one threw me for a loop because I was originally only seeing pictures like the one above, so I was like ‘oh, that’s cool, so it’s kinda like Dean’s Blue Hole, where it’s an ocean sinkhole right off the shore…’

No. It’s not that. Let’s zoom out a bit.

Yeah. This is a lake with one giant sinkhole in the middle! It’s about 2,000 feet across and reaches depths of 278 feet, with the surrounding shallows a very pleasant 4 feet deep! I’m mostly including it on the list because the full image hit me like a bus.

2. Sima Humboldt, Venezuela

Tepuis are large plateau mountains found across Venezuela, often with sheer sides and inaccessible tops that inspired explorers to imagine dinosaurs still surviving on these isolated mesas. Even on their own, tepuis are incredible, beautiful and mysterious. Add a sinkhole with an even more isolated forest at the bottom, and you have all the ingredients for some crazy shit to happen. Sima Humboldt and Sima Martel are two enormous sinkholes at the top of Cerro Sarisariñama. Humboldt is the largest at over a thousand feet across and nearly the same in depth, with a jungle flourishing at the bottom. The sinkhole forests are home to many endemic species of both plant and animals, but so far, no prehistoric monsters have been found in any of them.

3. Well of Barhout, Yemen

The “well of hell” is a massive sinkhole in the desert, measuring about 100 feet in diameter and plunging down over 300 feet. Understandably, there are many myths and legends about this place, including a story about an evil djinn which lives at the bottom and takes the head of anyone foolish enough to climb in. In fact, so pervasive are these legends that the sinkhole was only formally explored in 2021! Luckily they did not find any evil spirits, but they did find stalagmites which reached 30 feet tall, cave pearls, and waterfalls which provided refuge for frogs and snakes.

4. Myakka sinkhole, Florida

This murky abyss is filled with more than just water, it is also home to over a hundred alligators. Due to the poor visibility and very high concentration of large carnivores, it is very difficult to study this pit. Only a few people have ever glimpsed the bottom of this 134-foot deep sinkhole, but apparently we aren’t missing much because the water down there is stagnant and inhospitable to most life. Exactly why this area is so popular among alligators is still unknown, but it’s likely due to a combination of food availability and ideal temperatures.

5. The Pit cenote, Mexico

Like Cenote Angelita, The Pit is a layered cenote. The first 88 feet is freshwater, then there is a “fog” of hydrogen sulfide, below which lies over 300 feet of brackish water. The Pit is a spectacular-looking cenote, with an almost otherworldly quality, which makes it very popular among divers. So far, this pit has been explored to a depth of 390 feet, but unexplored passages extend further.

6. Thor’s well, Oregon

Like a drainpipe continuously swallowing an unbroken stream of ocean water, Thor’s well is often likened to a bottomless pit. However, it is actually only about 20 feet deep, and the drain effect is due to the fact that it connects back to the ocean, not swallowing the water but simply rerouting it. This does not mean that there is no danger, though. The rocks are slippery and sharp, and this area sees a higher than average number of ‘sneaker waves’; waves that look normal as they roll in but are actually much larger than they appear, potentially sweeping people out to sea as they retreat. The true danger here is the ocean, not the well.

7. Vouliagmeni Lake, Greece

This incredibly beautiful saltwater lake has been rumored to have healing properties for thousands of years, and today continues to draw in visitors for its medicinal minerals and “doctor fish”. But this famous lake hides a secret; a labyrinth of caves whose depths have never been fully explored, and whose connection to the ocean remains undiscovered. Passages stretch over a mile into the mountains, with an average depth of 260 feet. The largest of these caverns is nearly 500 feet wide and full of warm sea water. Although a spectacular diving spot, these unknown caverns are best not underestimated.

8. Santa Rosa blue hole, New Mexico

A gorgeous natural swimming hole, this cenote is roughly 80 feet wide and 80 feet deep (in most places) and is a popular destination for tourists. It was also used for diving certification tests, until an incident in 1976. There is one spot in this picturesque cenote that goes down much further than 80 feet; the entrance to a cave. In the dark, twisting passages, two young divers got lost and died, and the cave was later sealed with a metal grate to prevent other divers from attempting to enter. The cave was mostly forgotten about until 2013, when cave divers were given permission to attempt to map the area. The blue hole is at least 200 feet deep, but the bottom of the cave still has not been found.

9. Roaring River Spring, Missouri

This turquoise river bubbles up from a ten-foot wide pool of deep water hidden within a sheer-sided canyon. But despite its peaceful appearance, this spring discharges 20 million gallons of water a day, and the exact source is still unknown. In 1979, divers attempted to map the cave, but reached a point 225 feet down where the passage constricted and had a water flow like “the force of an open fire hydrant”, preventing them from going any further. In 2020, divers waited until the water flow was lowest in the summer and descended to a depth of 472 feet with no bottom in sight, making this the deepest spring in the US!

10. Your Mom.

I jest, of course. Here’s the real one:

Hranice Abyss, Czech Republic

A tiny greenish lake in the forest is the opening to the deepest freshwater cave in the world, deeper than the Empire State Building is high and still seemingly bottomless. It is so deep that scientists think it may have been formed by a totally different process than most freshwater caves; instead of water eroding away the ground from above, it may have been created by acidic groundwater coming up from below. And this water is extremely acidic, able to burn a diver’s skin if not covered properly. This, combined with fallen trees and other debris, poor visibility, and the sheer vertical drop of the cave, creates incredibly dangerous conditions for diving. Because of this, no diver or ROV has reached the bottom yet. But with a recent study using seismic sensors, scientists have estimated that the abyss may be over a kilometer deep, twice what was previously thought.

[hemmingsleclerc]

Drive to Survive

warnings: When something is written this way it is because it is something you said, and when something is written like this it is because an interviewer is speaking and here its just the narrator of the race

"Formula 1 is a dangerous sport and always will be"

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

A Netflix original series

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

"I love that adrenaline I feel every time I'm in the car."

DRIVE TO SURVIVE

SEASON 1 EP1

2018

''Welcome to the opening of the 2018 formula 1 world championship''

Race 1: Australian Grand Prix

Melbourne Grand Prix Circuit

''It is my first year here in Formula 1, I am from Mexico and I remember watching the Italian Grand Prix when I was three years old with my father, and from that moment the world of motorsport caught my attention''

''It was difficult to get to where I am right now, but with enough effort and dedication you will always achieve what you set your mind to and here I am !"

''¿How do you feel being the first woman in the paddock?''

"It is a true honor to be the first woman competing in this league and I hope to leave my mark and be the inspiration for more girls to come and join this wonderful sport. Clearly I feel a great weight on my shoulders and I will definitely not let anyone down, I have fought a lot to give myself a place in this league and I will show you what I am made of"

Friday Practice Day

''One of the most special things is how the weekend unfolds. Friday is practice, which is when the drivers go out to test the cars on the track, Saturday is qualifying, to see where you will start in the race. And Sundays are when we compete''

''And here comes L/N, that has passed sectors one and two well. ¿What will her time be? A time of 1:23.1, a sensational lap for Mercedes, what a good performance, they will start in first and fifth tomorrow, what a great start for Y/N L/N, this season's rookie."

"If someone says they don't get nervous, they are lying, the whole atmosphere is tense, the grid remains empty and only you and the other drivers remain and then race begins"

[tallerthantale]

Neil and Amanda's Fake Therapist

I originally gathered information relating to Neil's fake therapist in a bit of a messy hyperfocus flurry that included some initial errors, followed by various erratic updates, so I wanted to put the main points together into one coherent place. Some of what I'm putting together here was found by others on the subreddit post.

I once again find myself skirting the edges of my typical rules for myself about analyzing public figures, so disclaimer: this is personal opinion, I'm not scientifically or clinically evaluating anyone based off public appearances / statements, I am commenting on what personal impression I am getting off things, and leaving most speculation about internal states out.

Man does this guy make it hard to stick to that though.

The person I'm talking about here is the supposed 'therapist' that Scarlett interacted with while Neil was (allegedly) pressuring her to say the allegations weren't true. His behavior there (with a paper trail according to Tortoise), and what I was able to gather from Amanda Palmer's podcast made it clear to me that he was not operating within the acceptable behaviour of a therapist, so I decided to see if I could prompt a review of his license. All indications at this time are that he does not have one. But it gets worse.

He claims to be a minister, but like the therapist claim cites no qualifications or organizations in his website's bio. This combination of therapist who isn't a therapist and minister who isn't a minister potentially creates a legal nightmare scenario. I am not a lawyer, this is not legal advice, but I'm going to give you my best estimate of the situation, which has involved looking up the law and reading some cases.

As long as he isn't claiming to be a mental health professional, he may be protected in calling himself a nonspecific 'therapist.' He can probably argue it as some kind of spiritual therapy. But because he isn't actually a mental health care provider, he is not subject to mandatory reporting. Generally therapists have a legal obligation to proactively report when someone is a danger to themselves or others. He does not have that requirement. He isn't bound by professional ethics, since he is not a member of any organizations and has no licenses. Moreover, it seems to be the case in New Mexico that if a person reasonably believes you to be a minister, that kicks in clergy-penitent privilege whether or not you actually are a minister.

The origin concept of clergy-penitent privilege is that the law cannot force a priest to reveal what was said to them in confession. The First Amendment means all religions get it equally and it doesn't have to be part of a specific Catholic ritual. In New Mexico, it covers anything that was not said publicly or intended to be passed on regardless of the surrounding context. That means anything said to or by this guy that is not said in public or explicitly intended to be forwarded cannot be used by the legal system for any purpose, no matter how documented or incriminating it is to the client or to him personally. There is no mechanism to remove that privilege form him for being misused because it is derived from his representation of himself as a minister, not his actual status.

According to his linkdin he received a Bachelors degree in creative writing from the University of Rochester, in New York. He then got a Masters degree in Divinity in Organizations from Harvard Divinity School, 1982-1985. These are the only points of education claimed anywhere we have seen. He lists no psychology or mental health qualification anywhere, and is most known as an author. His bookselling success might be due to a claimed promotional appearance on Oprah.

His personal webpage has a long 'client list' or list of 'collaborators' who have hosted speaking engagements. This list was last updated in 2012. The events on his calendar page have no year. I think I recall seeing a section of his website that was only accessible to those who were 'fully committed,' or something like that, but it doesn't seem to be there now. It's possible I'm misremembering, it's possible it got taken down when the reddit thread got popular, I don't have the right skillset to check. He won an award from the Institute of Noetic Sciences, which looks to be engaging in pseudo scientific spirituality in a manner similar to Scientology.

From what I can gather from the video's I've watched, the advice he 'preaches' is a mish mash of bits and pieces of metaphors and perspectives from a variety of religions and philosophies that he probably didn't fully understand. (My speculation.) There are pieces of genuine insight that are lifted from others and that can give the impression he knows what he is talking about to vulnerable people even if he doesn't really understand them himself. He doesn't seem to have any genuine religious beliefs or connections to any religious congregation or organizations. It is unclear if he is or is not technically ordained, but that is something anyone can just do online, and he doesn't even claim it.

Particularly noticeable in his talks are traces of Jungian psychoanalysis (which is the nonsense Jordan Peterson seems to have got caught up in, and it has antisemitic and fascist origins) some Buddhist resilience concepts that have been misused by westerners a lot, and Christian (I think) concepts about universal love and togetherness. They end up mashed together into a message that I believe will influence most victims who hear it to blame themselves and remain in toxic situations, while making perpetrators feel better about continuing to perpetrate. Not saying that was the goal, but if a person had that goal, this patchwork philosophy is what you would put together to achieve it. I'm not going to be specific because I don't want to be like, putting out a guide for people on how to do this.

Amanda says she met the guy before she had a child, but after she was married. That is somewhere between 2011 and 2015. Amanda says she met him at something resembling a TED conference, where all sorts of people got together to do various (rich people nonsense.) She had a mental breakdown in a horse paddock, and the fake therapist was the guy with the horse, teaching about horse whispering.

"And since then, he’s been my therapist, and he’s also become a true friend, to me, and to my family, and to many other people in my life that he’s taken on, and helped out, in some of their darkest hours of need, and he is my emergency phone call. And in a way, he sort of picked up where Anthony, my old mentor, left off, and I don’t find it a coincidence that Wayne walked into my life right around the time Anthony walked out. "

This is not what a therapist does, this is cult leader behaviour. This is pure speculation on my part, but I wonder if Neil might have known him first and orchestrated their meeting. He is an author with connections to an organization similar to Scientology. It might actually not be a coincidence. Again, pure speculation.

Amanda describes seeking advice from him whenever she was having trouble with Neil, and that talking to him would make her feel like everything was fine again. "Even just to have someone to talk to, to remind me what I’m struggling with, what’s going on, what is home, why does this feel so disorienting, what am I doing? And I can say right now, when I shifted my internal feeling within myself, within my relationship with Neil, around where I was, my feeling in my own house transformed. Because I went, oh, right, none of this fucking matters."

In June 2019 Amanda Palmer has the Portland, OR incident where she tells her fans they need to forgive their r@#ists.

In 2019 the fake therapist did a series of webcasts with The Santa Fe Center for Spiritual Healing over a few months. At times he is titled "Rvrd", and at times he is titled "Dr." there is no reason to believe he is either. In the first one, the host reads a bio she found online, that she says he asked her not to read (she appears to think he was being humble.) This version of the bio claims that he was a Senior Scholar at the Fetzer Institute. When he comes on after she read it, he makes odd comments about whoever might be watching the video online and appears very shaken. The Fetzer Institute has no mention of him on their website. That connection is not listed in his current bio.

In his last video for the Santa Fe Center he claims to be working on an upcoming project in D.C. with a co-facilitator who was famous for brokering a truce between the crips and bloods. He also comes across like he has been asked to stop working with the center and is being super passive aggressive about it. (My speculation.)

His appearance on Amanda Palmer's podcast is recorded in July 2019, about a month after the last Santa Fe Center webcast, in upstate New York. In the descriptor she says it was recorded after a week long retreat with him she set up for 60 of her Patrion supporters. There is a nearly two year gap between the recording and posting, which is not explained. She describes him as a minister, therapist, leadership mentor, and her personal therapist. In the episode itself, she also describes him as her and Neil's relationship therapist. In the description she promotes his books and his website, and says he is still readily contactable there, but to be patient right now because he is mid move. (The description was posted when the podcast was posted, in 2021. As mentioned earlier, there are features of his website that have not been updated since 2012.)

The fake therapist tweeted about Neil being a 'dear friend' in late 2020. He has under 100 followers, not really what you would expect for a best selling author / therapist / minister / community leader / mentor / horse whisper. While I make references to cult leader behaviour, a genuine cult leader would probably have a larger following. But somehow I don't think he lacks for money. I expect there is a market for pseudo-therapists you can freely talk to about the crimes you are actively committing. You can even involve him in the crime, and it still privileged.

The events of Scarlett's allegations date to 2022, about a year after Amanda posted the podcast episode. Sometime in March is when Neil manipulates Scarlett into saying the allegations are false with what is essentially a su!c!de threat, then asks her to repeat her assurances that it was consensual to the fake therapist. Amanda had recently received a scorching message from one of Scarlett's friends about what was done to her. It seems like Neil is doing this to win a fight with Amanda in their "relationship therapy." Scarlett gets a message from the fake therapist.

Tortoise describes it as him "saying he'd be happy to speak to her in complete confidence because he had heard that she found herself in his words 'in the midst of relationships, stories and narratives, not alas necessarily of your own making. Sadly, this is not a surprise. Two creative dynamic people can easily draw others into their orbit unaware of how powerfully the magnetic pull of their influences can have on others.'"

My perception of this message is that it plants the suggestion to Scarlett that her friends are brainwashing her to think she was r@ped by pulling her into 'narratives not of her own making.' I could see how people might interpret the later lines regarding magnetic pull as being about accidental power dynamics abuse, but I read it more as him saying Scarlett's friends are opportunistic manipulators looking to make a name for themselves by taking down a famous person.

Either way, there are a considerable number of things happening there that an actual therapist would not ever do, for a variety of very good reasons. Tortoise's attempt to call him to ask for comment was thwarted by the fact that his phone has been specifically programed not to accept voicemails. Not like, the voicemail box was full or something, he went out of his way to do that. Which means Tortoise can't quite claim that he didn't respond to requests to comment, because they couldn't leave a message. Other organizations probably run into similar difficulties establishing evidence that they have contacted him. It's not a smoking gun, but I don't like it.

A year later Amanda Palmer makes her post on the Russel Brand allegations, where she argues the solution to serial predatory behaviour is to try to get them to stop doing "stupid shit" by trying to heal their lacking and fear with love and compassion and forgiveness, because that the ONLY cause / motivation for abusive behavior. And some unarticulated hope for non-specific accountability vibes.

This post looks to me like the perspective of a person who has been continuously exploited, and manipulated into thinking it is their personal responsibility to heal people who have no interest in being healed. It reads to me like a person who has been justifying staying in a toxic situation to themself so long it has warped their entire worldview. It reads to me like the inevitable end result of this fake therapists preaching.

I don't think that absolves her of what ever her role has been in facilitating access to victims, or actively promoting these views to her audience, but it is something to keep in mind.

There is a broad rage of possibilities for what is going on with this guy. The spectrum runs from deeply misguided fool to deliberately exploitative criminal. Either way it looks like he is charging people money for the service of turning them into the "this is fine" dog. This is not fine. This is not ok. Unfortunately it probably is legal.

[scientia-rex]

Hallo!! I really appreciate your blog and how open and invested you are in wellbeing outside of medical fatphobia and other ways medicine as an institution can suck. It's also great to see a humanized side of working in medicine, so thank you for your openness :) You mentioned recently not prescribing bariatric surgery to patients except in rare, specific cases. If you have time and energy, would you be able to share a little more about what you think about bariatric surgery when those particular conditions aren't present? Also please feel free to ignore this ask if you're not up for it. Hope you have a great day! 🌸🌼🌺

When someone is fat to the point where they can't do daily activities of living like dressing themselves, walking, etc., then bariatric surgery probably has a place.

However, bariatric surgery has risks. Lots of them. To start with, there's the on-the-table risks. These are a lot lower than they used to be--anesthesia in this day and age is incredibly safe. Getting to bariatric surgery is challenging for most patients, as insurance in the US will typically only work with a few centers that have wrap-around teams including the surgeons but also other specialists, especially nutritionists. So lots of patients go to Mexico. I haven't had a single one of my own patients, since I started having my own patients four years ago, get from the phase of thinking about bariatic surgery to actually having it done in the US. I've had three patients go to Mexico and have it done. I will withhold judgment, because I haven't been to those centers, I don't know what those doctors and teams are like, but I do know the overall out of pocket cost for patients is about 5 grand, which is so much cheaper than it is in the US that it doesn't bear comparison.

Just-after-surgery risks include blood clots that can go to the lungs or the heart. There is always a risk of wound infection, which can be devastating. If a prolonged hospital stay is required, pneumonia is a significant risk.

Any time you have intra-abdominal surgery, your body develops scar tissue. Places where scar tissue fuses different structures together are called adhesions. Having a re-operation after that is more risky because of those adhesions. You are also at higher risk for intestinal obstruction, because your intestines can hang up on adhesion and twist so that they cut off their own blood supply. This is a surgical emergency. When bowel dies, it becomes leaky and lets dangerous intestinal bacteria into the otherwise sterile environment of the abdomen. That higher risk of intestinal obstruction never goes away.

People who have had bariatric surgery are also at risk for dumping syndrome. This is a condition where the small intestine becomes overly stimulated immediately after a meal, because the food is not moving smoothly through the stomach into the small intestine on the natural time scale. That stimulation leads to excessive insulin release in comparison to the amount of glucose absorbed, which can means hypoglycemia, which is life-threatening.

Rapid fat loss leads to significant amounts of excess skin. Many people who've had bariatric surgery go on to have skin removal surgery. This is actually a riskier surgery than the bariatric surgery itself, because you are tampering with the barrier between the inside of your body and the world outside it. And if it's done too early, you can end up needing your skin to stretch again, and having stretch marks in addition to the scars.

After bariatric surgery, you are also worse at absorbing good nutrients. You need lifetime monitoring for vitamin levels, including vitamin B12. If you don't have enough vitamin B12, your nerves start to die. This results in pain that starts in the feet, since the neurons running from the spinal cord to the big toes are the longest and therefore most susceptible in the body.

But perhaps the most upsetting aspect of bariatic surgery to me is that it is presented as a definitive solution.

Is it?

Not for 20-25% of people who have bariatic surgery, who struggle with significant weight regain.

So if the most extreme intervention we have--literally surgically altering your gut--isn't enough to make weight loss permanent, how is anything else going to do it?

You can be skinny. For a little while. But attempts to lose large amounts of weight, including surgically, have high failure rates. The 75% success rate for bariatic surgery is significantly higher than for any other method currently widely available, but the risks are also significantly higher. I don't think it's worthwhile for most patients, especially given how many patients are lied to by their doctors about how much their weight is likely contributing to their health problems. Most of my patients focus on their weight rather than activity levels, they beat themselves up about how they're not doing intense enough exercise but don't incorporate lower-impact exercises like swimming or walking, they try to eat less rather than eating a diet more rich in vegetables and fruits and lower in highly processed foods. You can do so much for yourself without ever framing it as being about weight.

And if you've done that--if you're struggling with being so fat that you can't live your life--then sure. Talk to your doctor about a referral for bariatric surgery. But don't be shocked if the results are not what you were told to expect. Don't be surprised when you find that you actively resent the people who suddenly find you tolerable, even desirable, now that you're not so fat. Don't let them sell you bariatic surgery as a no-downside cure-all, because it most emphatically is not.

[hungwy]

A small woman—or perhaps an adolescent boy—walks quickly across a landscape where giant beasts roam. The person holds a toddler on their hip, and their feet slip in the mud as they hurry along for nearly a mile, perhaps delivering the child to a safe destination before returning home alone.

Despite the fact that this journey took place more than 10,000 years ago, a new paper published in the journal Quaternary Science Reviews manages to sketch out what it might have looked and felt like in remarkable detail.

Evidence of the journey comes from fossilized footprints and other evidence discovered in New Mexico’s White Sands National Park in 2018, reports Albuquerque TV station KRQE. Toward the end of the late Pleistocene epoch—between 11,550 and 13,000 years ago—humans and animals left hundreds of thousands of tracks in the mud along the shore of what was once Lake Otero.

The new paper investigates one specific set of tracks, noting details in the footprints’ shapes that reveal how the traveler’s weight shifted as they moved the child from one hip to the other.

“We can see the evidence of the carry in the shape of the tracks,” write study co-authors Matthew Robert Bennett and Sally Christine Reynolds, both of Bournemouth University in England, for the Conversation. “They are broader due to the load, more varied in morphology often with a characteristic ‘banana shape’–something that is caused by outward rotation of the foot.”

At some points along the journey, the toddler’s footprints appear as well, most likely because the walker set the child down to rest or adjust their position. For most of the trip, the older caretaker carried the child at a speed of around 3.8 miles per hour—an impressive pace considering the muddy conditions.

“Each track tells a story: a slip here, a stretch there to avoid a puddle,” explain Bennett and Reynolds. “The ground was wet and slick with mud and they were walking at speed, which would have been exhausting.”

On the return trip, the adult or adolescent followed the same course in reverse, this time without the child. The researchers theorize that this reflects a social network in which the person knew that they were carrying the child to a safe destination.

“Was the child sick?” they ask. “Or was it being returned to its mother? Did a rainstorm quickly come in catching a mother and child off guard? We have no way of knowing and it is easy to give way to speculation for which we have little evidence.”

The fossilized footprints show that at least two large animals crossed the human tracks between the outbound and return trips. Prints left by a sloth suggest the animal was aware of the humans who had passed the same way before it. As the sloth approached the trackway, it reared up on its hind legs to sniff for danger before moving forward. A mammoth who also walked across the tracks, meanwhile, shows no sign of having noticed the humans’ presence.

Another article: https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/abs/pii/S0277379120305722

[sailor-aviator]

Jake "Hangman" Seresin Series

Hi! Here is a list of the series I'm writing for Jake "Hangman" Seresin! Each series has multiple chapters and you can find their brief summaries underneath the titles! If you would like to read more you can head on over to my Masterlist! If you enjoy my writing, consider buying me a ko-fi!

Masterlist || Top Gun Masterlist

Don't Hang'em Til Noon (Complete)

Jake "Hangman" Seresin is a notorious leader within the Dagger Gang of the old western territories of the United States. You, a recently orphaned socialite from the eastern seaboard, find yourself swept off to live with your older brother who has set down roots in said western territory. Determined to to make the best of your situation, what will you do when said outlaw sets his sights on you? (Western AU)

Hanging By a Moment (Incomplete, Ongoing)

Taking place directly after the events of "Don't Hang'em Til Noon," this series follows more of Jake and Scout as they traverse life in the New Mexico territories. A drought has hit the town of Maverick, resulting in that year's crops dying. With little food to go around, the Dagger Gang must turn to unsavory means in order to provide for their friends and family. Additionally, Pete "Maverick" Mitchell and your brother, Benjamin, have established rights to a gold mine that's now drawing in more and more unsavory characters. Will you have what it takes to survive the growing danger?

Meet Me at the Sea (Complete)

Your best friend, Bob Floyd, had insisted you join him for the summer at his family's home along the Carolina coasts. You had been hesitant at first, but ultimately agreed to his request. Now, here you were in a new town with strange locals who spoke in hushed whispers and cryptic retellings about glistening scales, glowing eyes, and haunting songs that echoed from the sea. You didn't believe them at first, but when you wake up on the beach one morning after having fallen overboard the night before, you can't help but think that maybe you hadn't imagine the strong arms and deep, green eyes of the man that had saved you. (Mermaid!Siren!AU)

Fool's Fare (Incomplete, Ongoing)

Captain Jake "Hangman" Seresin had come close to swinging from the gallows more times than he would care to admit. He's stolen, cheated, even killed. The worst thing he's ever done? Broken the heart of a woman. Having broken the heart of the woman whom Davy Jones himself had fallen for six years ago, Jake is now cursed to live as something not dead, but not alive. He's doomed to live a half-life for the rest of his existence unless he manages to obtain the treasure Davy Jones deems most valuable. The problem? He has no idea what it is, and he only had seven years to obtain it. (Pirate!AU)

Two Birds (Incomplete, Ongoing)

Growing up in the midwest meant that you weren't exposed to many of the dangers of the world, and it also meant that you missed out on some of what life had to offer. Taking a leap, you move to New York City with a few personal belongings and the little money you have left in your savings. You become good friends with your roommate and, by extension, the people at the club she works at. However, it isn't long until you catch the eye of not one, but two mafia bosses that rule the city with an iron grip. Will you stay out of their clutches, or will you give in and become another pawn in their wicked games? (Mafia!AU)

Road to Perdition (Incomplete, Ongoing)

The Great Depression wasn't called a depression for nothing. Jobs were scarce, and the price of food and other necessities were rising higher and higher with each passing day. What little money you were able to make went straight to the bank and out of reach from your booze-swilling lech of a brother. It's on one such run that you come face to face with members of the infamous Dagger Gang; a group of, admittedly handsome, men who steal from the banks to hand it back out to the poor. You want nothing to do with them, but that blond-headed devil might just have something to say to the contrary. (1930s!Mobster!AU)

By Its Cover (Incomplete, Ongoing)

The frivolity of high society has never much interested in you. You preferred to spend your time reading, something your sisters couldn't fathom as they spent their time shopping the latest dress styles. The youngest of five children and the fourth daughter, not much was expected of you. You knew you might be married one day, but you hoped beyond hope that it would be to someone that might understand your intellectual pursuits. You begin exchanging letters with a mysterious stranger, and what's more, your older brother's rakish best friend seems to find himself in your path more and more as the season goes on. What's a girl to do? (Regency!AU)

Foul is Fair (Incomplete, Ongoing)

North Island University has a reputation for being a stepping stone for the elite. Generations of families have walked the halls of the institution, going on to have successful careers upon graduation. Only in the last few decades has the school begun to allow omegas earn their degrees from these hallowed halls, and you consider yourself to be among the few lucky ones. You’re determined to prove that you’re more than your designation, but when the cocky alpha in your English class decides to put you in your place, will you fold? Or will you rise to the challenge? (College!Omegaverse!AU)

The Yawning Grave (Coming Soon)

You had always loved the stories your grandfather had told you about the "cunning folk," as he called them. You dreamed of a world beyond our own, but as you grew older, those stories faded into memory. Now, you're freshly graduated from college and on a trip to Scotland with your best friends. What you don't expect, however, is to gain the attention of a mysterious man or the wrath of the woman seemingly with him. You especially don't expect to find yourself in the middle of one of the old stories your grandfather had told you - one where you end up in a world that's not your own and with very few ways out. (Fairy!AU)

[legobiwan]

It's 2024 and I've decided to make a Gravity Falls fic rec list. Because I do what I want, even if I'm showing up to the fandom a decade or so late. All fics are Gen unless otherwise noted, warnings can be found at the end of each description.

Birthday Dinner by Fordtato

A post-series short story featuring our two favorite old men out at sea, this work is wildly in-character in terms of their bickering and sometimes-competitive-to-the-point-of-self-sabatoge sibling relationship, but in the best and most hilarious of ways. Warnings for lighthearted discussion of cannibalism.

i know exactly where my blood is by strawberrybiscuit

There are a number of works that delve into Stan's possible suicidal ideation tendencies, both in his drifter years and post-Portal Incident. I find this to be a wholly conceivable notion, given both the absolute shit hand he was dealt in life and the hints we are given throughout the series that his self-esteem was pretty much in the gutter. Of the stories that explore this theme, I find this one to be one of the most grounded - Stan's borderline dissociation/gallows humor is very in-character, as is Ford's genuine horror when he learns the truth of the situation, which is rightfully emotional without delving into melodrama or transforming into a Saturday afternoon special. Warnings for intense talk of self-harm and suicide.

By Any Other Name by Zeragii 

I, like many of us, am fascinated by the tantalizing tidbits we've been fed as to Stan's decade or so existence as a drifter. We know he's failed at somewhat more legitimate attempts at entrepreneurship (the dodginess of the actual products notwithstanding), we know he was living out of his car for a large majority of those years, we know he's been to prison three times in various countries, and we know something happened in Colombia. All this is to say, Stan's probably made a lot of enemies, and that his map of "States I'm Banned In" is more likely a summary of places in which he has outstanding warrants and/or a price on his head.

What happens when that past catches up to you?

While this isn't an uncommon theme in Gravity Falls fics, what I love about this story is the complexity of the interactions between Stan and Ford here, given this is a post-series fic. Yes, they've mended their relationship, but old patterns die hard. Neither twin ends up as the "damsel in distress" (a worrying recurrence in many GF fics), despite the fact they are thrown into multiple dangerous situations and the OCs/Pines family extension are well-crafted and three-dimensional.

The People That We Always Hoped We Would Be by SharoScylla

A Christmas Carol, but make it Gravity Falls. The section of this story that really sold me was Stan's climatic scene in a bedbug-ridden, hovel of a motel room in New Mexico. Guest appearance made by the infamous Jimmy Snakes, who I learned recently was going to be a real character (and essentially this universe's answer to Ghost Rider) until that whole bit about Stan's past biker life was cut (regrettable). Embracing both the humor and darkness present in the original show, this story sees a Research Era!Ford come face-to-face with his own proverbial demons (real demons not included) as he is visited by a familiar cast of future past. Warnings for suicide attempt.

O Brother by Obsessive_Reader

In progress. A timestuck AU with the Mystery Twins 1.0 being catapulted into the 1980s, a young Ford landing with an increasingly desperate adult Stanley as young Stan tries to navigate the thorny, icy adult his brother Stanford has become. Probably one of the most realistic timestuck AUs out there, as fences are not mended immediately between the adult twins nor with their children counterparts. Also, Fiddleford finally has a chance to shine!

Orpheus Descending by Sir_Thopas

Unfinished. Which is a damn, damn shame, as this is probably one of my favorite Gravity Falls fics of all time. Read it anyway. Yes, you'll swear vociferously at where it leaves off. ResearchEra!Ford goes to incredible lengths to bring his brother back from the dead as Stan's demise is not exactly what it seems. What exactly happens with Stan is incredibly realistic, given his circumstances, and the local color written in by this Georgian native just adds to the Gothic feel of the whole tale. To what lengths would you go to bring your family back? At what point do you cross the point of no return in order to survive? Warnings for graphic description of a decayed corpse and prostitution scene.

Journal #4 by Percival_T_Honeybee

To be honest, this story stops being a Gravity Falls fic a couple of chapters in, instead featuring characters we know and love in increasingly out-of-universe (in all ways imaginable) situations. This doesn't matter, though, as the world- and character-building of this swashbuckling, sci-fi epic are superb and will have you on the edge of your seat until the final chapter. When both Stan and Ford go through the portal, their futures become something they never could have imagined.

Turning by BrandyFromTheBottle

I've mulled over this conceit on more than occasion and truly think it's something that begs further exploration. What if Stanley Pines pulled a Saul Goodman and, after the world was saved, turned himself in, willingly going to trial, and eventually, prison as self-inflicted recompense for his past deeds?

And now for something different...

Entanglement by Haley3

Ford/Bill (to be clear, Triangle Bill. Accept no substitutions). I realize Billford is not everyone's cup of tea and I rarely, rarely post shipping stuff, but in full transparency, I find their relationship fascinating and the idea of their having interactions that may have seeped over the boundary of purely (well, not pure. Ford built a damned shrine and became a one-man cult while Bill was manipulating him the entire time) platonic is not out of the question. In other words, I'm not wholly immune to Billford, but I am rather picky about how they are portrayed.

This fic checks all my boxes. Bill remains a triangle throughout. Bill is unredeemable. Ford and Bill have a relationship whose complexity would rival the equations of the dimensional physics they debate. And, of course, Ford is lying to himself and those around him, deeply, deeply in denial as to the nature and profundity of his emotions towards his tormentor. Warnings for explicit sexual scenes, manipulation, emotional abuse. I mean, it's Bill, we all know what that means.

[cherry-holmes]

Glimpse of a life with Javier Peña

Chapter 12

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: As your relationship with Javier progresses, ghosts from the past return to avenge what was taken from them.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Previous chapter

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Word count: +2.9k

Warnings: Violence typical of the series. Author decide no to give more details to avoid spoilers.

A/N: I’m sorry for the delay! But here is chapter 12, hope to bring chapter 13 ASAP!✨

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

In less than a week, you moved to Javi's apartment. It could be quicker if you were completely able to walk and if he wasn't that busy at work. Javier felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders, he didn't want to leave your side not even for a second. After the attack, torn between worry about your injury and the possibility that you might need help at home, he did anything he could to stay at home with you even when you assured him that you would be just fine and that you understood he have to go to work. But Javi stayed, took good care of you, and the next day, after a session of sweet kisses on the bed, he reluctantly left to work, with Steve giving him a ride.

You assured him that you would be okay and promised to call him immediately if you needed anything, but he didn't feel you were safe anymore. The responsibility and guilt for what happened weighed heavily on him. He needed to take action to ensure your safety and seek justice. He swore to himself that he would make those responsible pay for what they did to you.

He helped you to moved into his place as soon as they assigned him a new truck. You talked with the the landlady of your building to ended up your contract and you sold most of your furniture. You only kept your favorites and replaced Javi's with them.

When he saw at how different his usual manly, lonely and cold apartment looked now, he felt a healing warmth on his chest, and he couldn't feel more comfortable, grateful and in love in his entire life. He knew, in that moment, that he wanted to spend the rest of his days just like that. By your side.

One day, he even seriously thought about calling his dad and ask him to send him his mother's wedding ring as soon as possible.  He didn't, though. Not because he changed his mind about share his life with you or that he had doubts about if you were the one. But because he wanted to do a formal, beautiful proposal. He wanted to do it when you both were far from that dangerous and cruel scenarios; when he take you to Laredo to meet his dad and the ranch and he also wanted to know your sisters and your so beloved grandfather in Mexico.

Javier wanted to do things right with you.

When he was engaged with Lorraine, he didn't even gave her his mother's ring. That should be a signal, he thought. His excuse was that that ring belonged only to his mother and not even his father's constant insistence could change his mind. He was sure, even if he didn't say it, of course, that what he felt for Lorraine could never compare with the bond of pure love his parents felt for each other.

But he could perfectly see you wearing that ring and he thought about how well it matched the necklace he gifted to you on your birthday and that you never took off.

But Javier knew that if he wanted to achieve that, he needed to make sure you will be safe. He felt you were his responsibility, he wanted to provide you and protect you from everything and everyone.

Whatever it took.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"You're gonna be late, Javi," you warned him between kisses and silly smiles, "...again."

"I don't care," he shrugged, seeking your soft lips once more, "as long as I can kiss you."

His mouth captured yours, and you suppressed a soft moan, aware that if he heard you, he would take you back to bed for another round of morning sex. It's not that you didn't want that, but you were mindful that it was the third day in a row he would arrive late at the office. If you had learned something during your time with him, it was that Javier Peña's cock was simply addictive.

As his hands traced the contours of your body, you gently pushed him away, a playful smile on your lips. "Javi, you really need to go."

He sighed, a mixture of reluctance and desire in his eyes. "I know, I know," he said, stealing one last lingering kiss before reluctantly pulling away. "I miss you at the office," he said, "I miss that pencil skirts you wear," he added, giving you a playful wink.

"I'll be back this Monday," you reminded him, "And you'll see me in those skirts all day."

You left another sweet peck on his lips, absorbing his scent and warmth. "I was thinking...," he started, taking the tip of your pointer finger and playing with your red nail, "maybe we could have dinner out, at that fancy sushi restaurant you like."

"Really? Are you sure?" you asked, a hint of excitement that you couldn't hide. You and Javi had been locked in your apartment since the attack. You knew he was doing everything to protect you, and even though you loved the warm nest of pure love and intimacy you had built together, you needed to confront the world sooner or later.

He nodded, gently brushing a stray lock of hair from your beautiful face, "Yeah, don't worry, we'll be fine," he assured you, kissing your forehead. "Call me if you need anything, okay?" he reminded you, his gaze filled with genuine concern.

You nodded, appreciating his caring nature. "I will, mi amor. Please, take care of yourself," you crossed him, as you always did, and planted a last kiss on his lips.

And with that, he left, leaving you with a sense of longing and a smile that lingered throughout the day.

•••••••

Messina allowed you to take your typewriter and continue working on your translator duties at home. Actually, she didn't have any other choice, as you were the only translator responsible for Javi and Steve's daily reports. It was also beneficial for you, as it provided a sense of normalcy amid the chaos of the ongoing circumstances. Working from home allowed you to maintain a routine, even though the circumstances were far from ordinary.

The day unfolded swiftly as you balanced your work, domestic tasks, and the rhythmic tunes of music on the radio. Javier called, checking on you and informing you about the delay in his return. However, he still eagerly suggested dinner, leaving the plan open for you.

In the late afternoon, after completing your tasks, you treated yourself to a refreshing shower and took extra care with your makeup and clothing, anticipating Javier's return. Remembering his preference, you adorned yourself in red, a color he often praised for accentuating your radiance.

You were ready for the hour he estimated for his return, but it didn't happen. Initially, you used his delay to double-check your papers. However, as an hour and a half passed without his arrival, worry set in. You attempted multiple calls to both the Embassy landline and his personal cellphone, but none were answered.

Sitting on the couch, you turned on the TV, but your mind couldn't shift away from concerns about Javier. It was highly unusual for him not to respond to your calls, especially without prior notice for a date delay. Attempting to calm yourself, you considered scenarios like a sudden meeting or heavy traffic, reassuring yourself that his phone might have died, leaving him temporarily unreachable.

You tried to relaxed, took an aspirin for your heard and tried to pay attention to the television.

Javi is just fine, he'll come at any moment.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

A lightning strike in the midnight sky woke you up, your heart racing, and sweat forming on the back of your neck. Glancing at the kitchen clock, you realized it was half past eleven p.m. with still no sign of Javi. You changed into your pajamas and proceeded to call Javi's desk three times in a row and his phone three times.

"Por favor, mi vida, contesta," you prayed. Nothing.

You decided to go upstairs to the Murphy's apartment and knocked until Steve finally opened. You felt a hint of guilt as you saw his sleepy face and a fresh stain of formula on his pajama.

"I'm so sorry for the hour," you said, embracing yourself, "Javi hasn't come home. I tried to call him, but he didn't answer."

Steve's expression shifted from groggy to alert as soon as he heard your words. He invited you in, so  could you explained the situation in more detail.

As you sat on the sofa, Connie emerged from their bedroom, little Olivia on her arms, and approached to you, calling your name softly.

"What happened?" She asked.

"I'm sorry; it's Javi. He hasn't come back," you explained. Connie sat beside you, and her husband asked you about what Javi told you. "He called this afternoon and said he would stay late in the office, but he assured me that he would come for our date," you told them, prompting Steve's eyes to flicker with a mix of surprise and concern. He exchanged a quick glance with Connie before turning his attention back to you.

"Are you sure?" Steve asked, a subtle hint of worry in his voice.

You hesitated, grappling with the unease that had settled in your gut. "Yeah, he sounded occupied. Why? Is something wrong?"

Connie glanced at Steve, and there was a silent exchange of concern between the couple. Steve took a deep breath before speaking. "He left the office as soon as they assigned him a new car, around 3 or 4 in the afternoon," he explained. "I thought he had come home; I called him, but he didn't answer. I thought that you both were, well, busy."

Concern etched across your face as Steve and Connie exchanged a worried glance, silently acknowledging the gravity of the situation. A sense of unease lingered in the air.

"I'll try calling him again," you said, reaching for the landline next to the sofa. Each ring seemed to intensify the tension in the room. No answer. Anxiety coiled within you as you contemplated the possibilities.

Steve broke the silence. "I should go to the office. Maybe he's still there."

Nodding, you began to stand up, Olivia's sleepy eyes watching you with a hint of concern from her mother's arms. "I'll go with you," you said.

However, Connie placed a gentle hand over your shoulder, pulling you down again. "Honey, we should stay," her voice sweet and reassuring.

"I can't, I..." your voice cracked as the emotions you had been suppressing pushed to come out, as if you were a pressure cooker about to explode. "I need to know where he is. What if they found him and...?" you stopped yourself, not wanting to even imagine if something terrible had happened to him.

"I know you're worried about Javi, but it would be safer for us to stay here," she explained, and you felt powerless. "Steve is gonna find him, right, baby?" She sought help from her husband, and he nodded.

"I'll call you immediately as soon as I find him," he assured, and after changing his pajama, he left the apartment.

Connie suggested going back to your place, in case Javi called or returned. You sat there, a mix of fear and impatience consuming you. Connie stayed by your side, offering comfort with every reassuring word. The tick-tock of the damn clock echoed through the room, each passing second intensifying your worry.

As you anxiously waited for Steve's call, Olivia shifted in her sleep, sensing the tension around her. Connie softly hummed a lullaby, a melody that seemed to soothe both the child and the anxious mother.

Minutes felt like hours, and the hours were torturous, but finally, the ringing of the phone pierced the heavy air. You grabbed it hastily, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Hello?" you answered, the desperation evident in your voice.

"It's me," Steve's voice came through the line. "I found Javi."

You let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. "Oh, thank God!" you exclaimed, relief washing through your body. Connie relaxed immediately when she heard you. "Can you hand him the phone, please?" you asked, but your heart sank again when you heard Steve let out a heavy breath. "Steve?"

"Listen, I'm at the hospital," he admitted, and you felt your legs get weak as you staggered back.

"Ho-hospital? What happened?" you urged, a lump forming in your throat.

"He was investigating leads on Diego," Steve explained, his voice reflecting the worry etched on his face. "There was an ambush. Javi took a bullet."

You felt the room spin as the gravity of the situation sank in. You almost fainted, if it weren't for Connie, who held you. She took the phone, and you didn't even protest.

Connie's voice was the lifeline you desperately clung to. She gathered details about Javier's condition from Steve, all while you fought back tears and waves of anxiety. Your mind raced with thoughts of Javier in a hospital bed, a victim of violence that felt far too close to home.

As you listened to Connie, she assured you that he was receiving medical care and in the process of recovery. However, the news of him being shot lingered in your thoughts, and a mixture of emotions flooded your senses—fear, anger, and an overwhelming desire to be by  his side.

Why do things like this have to happen to us? Can't we just be happy, like any other couple? Is this the price of dating a man with his profession? To look over my shoulder every time I go out, to pray for him to return home alive.

"I need to go to the hospital," you declared, a newfound determination replacing the initial shock.

The wait for Steve, since he refused to let you drive in the mental condition you were in, felt like an eternity, each passing moment amplifying your worry.

The knock on your door finally came, and you gathered your things and the ones you took for Javi—clean clothes and personal stuff—rushing to the door.

"I'll call later," you said to Connie, who obviously had to stay with Olivia. She wished you the best as she watched you open the door.

But it wasn't Steve who was standing outside.

A gun was pointed right at your face as a hand grabbed you by the neck to push you back inside. He looked different, years older in a matter of months since you last saw him. But those eyes, full of anger and frustration, were something you could recognize anywhere.

"I've got you, fuckin' bitch" Diego snapped, his voice filled with rage.

As he gripped you against the wall, the force making you stumble. The door slammed shut behind him, cutting off any escape.

"Why are you here?" you managed to choke out, trying to steady yourself.

He glared at you, the gun still trained on your trembling form. "You think you could just leave and forget about everything?"

"I don't want any trouble," you pleaded, your mind racing for a way out of this dangerous encounter.

Diego's laughter was bitter, devoid of any warmth. "You don't get to walk away, not after what you did."

"I didn't do anything," you insisted, your voice shaking. The air felt thick with tension, each moment stretching like an eternity.

Diego's expression twisted into a sinister sneer. "You took everything from me."

As the weight of his words sank in, realization dawned upon you. Diego was blaming you for the turmoil in his life, and his anger was palpable.

You tried to process the situation and plan your next move when suddenly, he turned his head to the living room and spotted Connie, paralyzed with fear, clinging to her daughter's delicate body.

It was evident that he had thought that you would be alone, and a witness was now a problem. He took you to his body, an arm around your neck as he pointed the gun towards Connie. Both of you gasped with surprise and fear as your friend tried to protect her daughter with her own body.

"NO, NO," you shouted, panic creeping up through your system, "Wait, don't hurt them!" Fear gripped you, but you maintained composure. "Diego, please, we can talk about this. There's no need for violence," you pleaded, the urgency in your voice belying your attempt at calmness.

His laughter echoed through the room, devoid of any warmth. "Talk? You think talking will fix this mess? You took everything from me, and now you'll pay."

The moment he unlocked the gun, you felt a heavy pang in your stomach. Connie started to cry, and you were shaking so much that your jaw hurt.

"Please," you begged, taking him by the arm, pulling him to the door, "You're here for me, let them alone, please..."

"If you call the police, I'll come back and kill your daughter, do you understand?" he said to Connie in Spanish, but she managed to comprehend and nodded.

You felt relief the moment he stopped pointing at them, but your heart raced harder as he forced you to the door.

"Walk, bitch," he muttered, this time pointing the gun at the back of your head, so you didn't have any other choice than to follow his orders.

He took you outside the building and into a car where two other men were waiting for him. He climbed into the car next to you and made you cuff yourself and wear a mask on your head as the car disappeared into the night.

NEXT CHAPTER

[infamousbrad]

For a few years now, I've taken multiple opportunities to ask groups of my fellow Americans the same question: "do you think early 21st century America is a good place to raise a child?" Answers varied from person to person, even among parents of children, from "yeah, pretty good" all the way down to "oh hell no." Rather than give my answer, and go into my reasons (for now) let's look at a report card ranking 35 major countries by several criteria, that just rated only Mexico as worse than the USA as a place to raise a family.

Safety: F. Based on homicide rate, average fear of crime, risk of dying to war or terrorism, school shootings per capita, and protection of civil rights for all. We did okay on most of the sub-ratings, but barely mediocre on civil rights and, well, obviously insanely bad compared to everybody else on school shootings.

Happiness: C+. Based on the human freedom index, world happiness index, per-capita suicide rate, household income inequality, and whether or not some families are discriminated against in adoption rights. I couldn't quickly find the sub-ratings on this one, but the USA came out pretty average.

Cost: F. Based on child care costs, per household family support spending, out-of-pocket educational costs, out-of-pocket health spending, and income-adjusted cost of living. The UK and New Zealand were even worse on child-care costs, but the US came in dead last in every other sub-category. We are the only country that expects those costs to be entirely born by parents who currently have minor children instead of spreading them out across all households.

Health: D-. Based on maternal mortality rate, child mortality rate, access to contraception, air pollution level, and average life expectancy. Because we're not in the bottom 5, I again can't easily find the US ranking on each of those sub-ratings, but I imagine we really got hit on our maternal mortality rate.

Education: C+. Based on teen enrollment rate, early-20s enrollment rate, average reading performance, average math performance, and average science performance. We weren't in the top or bottom 5 so, again, I don't know our detailed rankings but we did end up above average. And finally ...

Time: F. Based on time off per worker, weeks of paid maternity leave, weeks of paid paternity leave, weeks of mandatory paid sick leave, weeks of mandatory paid vacation leave. Only Mexico gave its workers fewer hours off work, and we are the only country in the survey to have a zero in all four other categories.

Across all countries: Only 5 of the 35 countries got an A+ overall. Starting with the highest score: Iceland, Norway, Sweden, Finland, and Luxembourg. Only two countries got an F, the US and Mexico. If you choose to have and raise a family in the United States, you will bear a higher percentage of those expenses than almost any country in the world, your children will be in more physical danger and health danger than anywhere in the industrialized world outside of an active war zone, and you will have less time with them, less time to parent them, than parents anywhere else surveyed.

So, you tell me: in your opinion, is the United States of America in the early 21st century a good place to have and raise children, or not?

Not to beg, but I'd really appreciate more eyes on this, please? Especially from my fellow Americans and doubly-so from people who have kids or who have recently raised kids?

[redfish-blu]

People asked to drop the Danger Days tl from my last post so I’ll do that.

*Disclaimer: Not canon at all this is just my personal idea and take on like. How all that happened. Based on what they said in the videos and comics sort of.

*Disclaimer 2: I have not read National Anthem and I don’t care if this doesn’t line up with that.

Zones Timeline

1947:

- Cold War begins.

1987: Dr. D is born (hey legend).

1991:

- Cold War does not end.

1996:

- 1st Helium War starts.

- NATO and the Warsaw countries exchange declarations of war.

- Most of Eastern Europe is destroyed first, followed by the Middle East. Russia remains intact, as do a few Western European countries. Not including Great Britain or Germany.

- Other countries fall into isolation in fear of being the next targets of war, and either disappear into themselves or join pacts with one another. Some disperse entirely.

1997:

- America dissolves into civil unrest after attacks on the mainland result in various important political figures’ deaths.

- A number of American states cede from the nation and become The Confederacy of California, as per their secession being definitely illegal, and they take the states of California, Nevada, Arizona, and Wyoming.

- Utah, Colorado, New Mexico, and Texas are disputed.

- The rest of the states are assimilated into The Federal Republic of The United States, however they are in constant political battles between themselves because now everyone either wants out of the nation or they want control of it.

1997-98:

- Technology stagnates, but still advances. Just nowhere near as fast as it did in our lives.

1998:

- 1st Helium War ends.

- Cherri Cola is born.

- Tensions between the COC and the FRUS are high strung but not hostile.

- This is generally considered peacetime, if peacetime can be defined as you and the person you just fist fought in the bathroom being forced to sit next to one another in the principal’s office. Alone.

- A company specializing in chemistry and weapons manufacturing under the name of “Better Tech” rises in the COC and the FRUS.

2000:

- 2nd Helium War starts.

- Jet Star is born.

- War is declared on the FRUS by the COC, and various military campaigns take place in the disputed states.

- Better Tech supplies resources to both sides in a kind of double entendre situation where neither side knows they’re actually being played.

2001:

- Party Poison is born.

2006:

- Kobra Kid is born.

- Fun Ghoul is born.

- Helium Wars end when a series of nuclear bombs are dropped around the Rocky Mountains.

- The FRUS is never heard from again, and radio/electronic communication is disrupted by damage to the earth’s electromagnetic field.

- Better Tech rebrands themselves to Better Living Industries and gain influence over the COC government with the aim of salvaging the country and fixing the physical damage done by the war as well as the mental trauma of the citizens.

2010:

- BLi attempt to take control of Latin America but are flushed out by rebellion, and Mexico’s border is closed.

- Canada follows suit soon after, and America is officially cut off. Trapping everyone who remains there within the country (legally).

2012:

- Pig Bombs drop, eliminating Texas and New Mexico, whose governments were still kind of functioning independently after Helium 2 and building resistance against the COC.

- Fires of 2012 destroy Phoenix but leave Las Vegas intact. All remaining military units are pulled to Los Angeles.

- This is where BLi’s intense propaganda machine starts working to cover up all the crap they do. Working in tandem with how technologically challenged most people are at that point.

- BLi take what’s left of the lower 48 and establish Battery City as the new capital of America. Their borders define the nation as California, Oregon, Nevada, Utah, and Arizona.

- However, BLi becomes notoriously bad at maintaining and “cleansing” their proclaimed territories; and most of the area outside of Zone 3 sees little to no substantial BLi presence at all.

- Dr. Death Defying makes his first radio broadcast as a rebel.

2013:

- Analog Wars begin.

- Battle of Utah takes place wherein Salt Lake City is destroyed in a series of Killjoy v. BLi battles.

- Destroya was used for its first and only time during this battle, and was abandoned in Zone 3 during BLi’s retreat.

2015:

- Analog Wars pause after significant damages to both sides prompt an unofficial ceasefire, giving way to a long period of relative inactivity.

- BLi uses this time to build its presence in everyday life, establish the Zones, and advance it’s scientific research and development.

2028:

- The Girl is born.

- Girl’s mom is Drac’d

2029:

- The Girl is found by Killjoys.

- Analog Wars start up again when her existence is uncovered.

2029-35:

- These years see the most one on one fighting between kj factions and BLi since the Analog Wars first started.

- Generally remembered as a sort of Zones Renaissance due to the re-popularization of art, media, and philosophy within the killjoy community.

- Who had fractured off in the years after the armistice and became very detached from one another rather than a collective movement.

2035:

- The Killjoys die.

- Analog Wars officially end.

2036-47:

- The schools of thought built up during the renaissance period fade into the background once again as their figureheads either die off or become irrelevant.

- This is the era in which the Val Velocity era of killjoys grow up in. They were all born well after the Helium and Analog wars began and ended, so they have little to no connection to the values or customs of pre-war life.

- Its very Lost Generation-y in that everyone just kind of wants to party and forget about how their lives suck underneath all the glitter.

2047:

- California Comics events.

- Cherri Cola dies.

- Dr. D dies (rip legend).

- BLi is destroyed.

[itsstrange]

Bounded

Fandom: MW2

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

A/N: Finished playing the campaign a couple days ago and my love for this man has awaken once again. I remember I used to have a crush on him as a kid and those feelings have arisen once again! So, for all you Ghost sluts, this one is for you!

Summary: After a mission gone wrong, both (Y/n) and Ghost are forced to hideout in an abandoned apartment complex, where things soon get interesting.

Word Count: 6.5K

Warnings: (Yes) Injury, Blood, Mentions of Death, Cursing, Smut, Kissing, Confessions, Fingering, Slight Rough Sex, Just Pure Smut. (+18)

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Enjoy! 🔥

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Things went to shit rather quickly. It was supposed to be a simple mission, or at least that’s what Lasswell told them. Breach. Kill. Search for any intel and Get Out. Simple right? No. Not fucking simple at all. They were misgiven information, supposedly there would be a skeleton crew of 10 hostiles guarding the broken down building, not 40, and now (Y/n) is sporting a good bullet to the torso while being carried out by none than other Simon “Ghost” Riley. In other words, the Lieutenant, and the one man that can easily clashed throats with her. Fucking great.

They walked in with six men, now only them two were making their way down the flooded streets of Mexico. Rain poured down on them as they quickly looked for a place to lay low, but every building they’d pass through was either lit on fire, completely destroyed or too exposed. Which gave them the only option to keep walking until they found something much more inviting and secured. However, they were quickly running out of time considering (Y/n) was barely able to stand on her own feet. The bullet on her side was sending white hot pain throughout her body with each step she took, it didn’t look like it because of the rain pouring on them but she really was losing a lot of blood. She was actually surprised she had survived walking two miles without collapsing, then again it was the adrenaline that gave her the strength.

Which quickly began fading off the longer she stood on her feet. Her energy was decreasing now with the adrenaline gone and it didn’t help when unbearable pain shot through her side with each step she took. Eventually, it became too much that she honestly just needed a break. Just five seconds, or ten wouldn’t kill anyone.

“Wait wait,” (Y/n) harshly whispers as she leans her hand against a ruined car, breath coming out in harsh puffs, “Just— Just gimme a minute,”

“Negative. Can’t do that soldier. We gotta keep movin,” Ghost says, voice firm and stiff, with a small hint of worry, which of course she didn’t catch,

(Y/n) let’s out an exhausted sigh through her mouth as she hangs her head. Even that was becoming difficult to keep upright. He should just leave her, save himself, she was only slowing them down and risking both—his life.

“C’mon Nova,” Ghost calls her by her call sign as he carefully pulls her off the car, “We need to find shelter so I can patch ya up,”

“Move it,” He orders as he begins walking, forcing her to do the same, causing a pained groan to leave her lips as the sudden movement causes pain to shoot from her wound,

Placing a bloodied hand on said wound, she slowly walks alongside the brute man, who kept his eyes peeled for any danger and shelter that look safe enough. Even though her heart was thundering in her ears, she would often catch his harsh breaths or grunts as he carried mostly all her weight or would reposition her around his shoulders whenever he’d feel her slipping away. Most of the time she’d do it on purpose to get him to leave her on the ground and save himself from the dead weight, but he wasn’t having it, he’d only tighten his grip on her and would continue walking through the flooded streets.

“Where do you take someone who’s had a peek-a-boo accident?” Ghost suddenly says as he scans the buildings, faint grunts leaving his mouth every once and a while,

“No,” She flatly responds, she’s honestly not in the mood for his ridiculous dad jokes,

“To the I.C.U,” Ignoring her he goes ahead and finishes his joke, which only receives him a breathless scoff along with a small shake of a head,

Dark humor just like his soul.

“You honestly have no filter Riley,” (Y/n) says through gritted teeth when he accidentally applied a little too much pressure on her wound, causing the Brit to apologize as he continues down the street,

Silence settles between them, only the sound of rain hitting the ground, fire cracking in certain buildings, their ragged breaths mixed with grunts and pained groans are heard. (Y/n) felt like they’ve had been walking for years, when in reality it had only been 30 minutes, however, if they didn’t find a place soon she knew her legs would give out sooner rather than later.

About another mile of walking through the flooded streets, hiding from shadows every so often, and tripping over her own feet more than once, they eventually found shelter. It wasn’t the best, but it was certainly better than the other buildings they’ve been passing through. It was good enough to allow them catch their breaths for an hour or so before they had to keep moving, which (Y/n) honestly didn’t care, just as long as she was able to rest for a few minutes.

The moment Ghost kicks open the door, makes sure it’s secured and begins walking through the door it was as if her body knew it was okay to relax now because she suddenly slips away from Ghosts grip, causing her to land hard on the floor with a loud exhausted groan.

“Fuckin’ hell (Y/n),” Ghost curses underneath his breath as he quickly helps her off the floor,

With quick movements he leads her towards a beaten down couch he spots in one corner and gently lays her down. Earning him pained groans as he watches her clutch to her side with eyes tightly shut. Her breathing was coming out in quick short puffs, as she laid on the couch while the lieutenant moved around the small beaten apartment looking for supplies. A minute later he comes back with a kitchen knife, a piece of cloth, and a bottle of what seemed to be tequila but she wasn’t given the chance to observe it properly considering her vision began failing her due to the amount of blood she had lost.

“Soldier, keep your eyes open,” Ghost demands as he hurriedly preps his improvised kit,

“Nova!” He shouts when he catches her drifting, but it was no use, exhaustion was quickly winning over her body,

The last thing she’s able to hear was her real name falling from his lips once again before darkness over takes her, sending her into a peaceful, quiet, dreamless sleep.

******

The sound of thunder roaring and rattling against the walls jolts (Y/n) from her sleep. Brows knitting together in confusion when her eyes stare upwards towards a dark ceiling, and even more so when she notices she’s covered with something. Slightly angling her head she realizes it’s a hoodie, not just any hoodie though, she recognizes it almost immediately. It was Ghosts navy hoodie that he was wearing under his vest, and now it’s draped over her, nearly covering her body from how big it was.

As she slowly peeled the hoodie off her frame, which smelled like cigarettes mixed with gun oil and cologne, the scent of Ghost, she noticed how her side had been bandaged up. Pain still lingered, sending jolts of it with every small movement she made, but at least she wasn’t bleeding out or better yet, dead. Glancing up from her covered wound, she immediately lands them on a figure standing in the shadows next to a window, the light from the moon giving her a clear view of his skull mask and noticing, he was staring right back at her.

They lock eyes in silence for ten seconds, until he averts his eyes outside the window for a second and then slowly making his way towards her. His rifle gripped in both hands, and noticing then, he was only in a dark long sleeved shirt.

“How you feelin?” His deep and hoarse voice matched the look in his blue eyes as he hovered over her, eyes scanning her frame head to toe,

(Y/n) thanked god for the darkness, heat crept up on her cheeks from the way he stared at her. She was even more thankful when words easily slipped from her mouth.

“Hurting. But nothing I can’t handle,” She grunts as she slowly starts sitting upright on the couch,

Right away Ghost was by her side, giving her a hand by gripping onto her shoulder and carefully helping her up.

“Didn’t want me havin’ all the fun I see,” He heartfelt jokes as he goes ahead and walks towards the window once again,

A scoff leaves her lips with a roll of her eyes. She thought quite the opposite.

“How long have I been out?”

Ghost looks down at his watch and then back out towards the window, “Two hours,”

Jesus. She thought to herself. She’s been passed out for two hours, risking both their lives and their location. “We should start moving then, we need to get the fuck outta here,”

“Negative. It’s bucketing down out there and you need rest,”

“I’m fine, Ghost. We need to move,” She argues back, hand clutching to her side while her (E/c) eyes watch him,

He doesn’t say anything, just stares at her and remains his ground by the window. (Y/n) would’ve thought he’s giving it a thought, but she thought wrong because he only turns back around with a firm ‘no’ making a scoff leave her lips as she slowly maneuvers her legs onto the ground and leans back against the couch. Eyes scanning her surroundings and thinking, how the fuck weren’t they caught yet? The building looked as if it was hanging on for dear life, maybe that’s why they’ve been in the clear, they wouldn’t dare walk into this death trap. Lucky for them right?

Averting her eyes back to the man, she observes him from her spot. The moonlight illuminating his iconic skull mask, and the small peak of those dangerous, dark, eyes of his. As she stared at his frame she began wondering how she ever got this far with the man without having to ever see his face, not that she’s been wondering what he looked like under the mask, but a speck of it would satisfy her enough. Then it got her thinking of all the times they were constantly at each other’s throats, both on mission and while resting at the base, which honestly brought a small devilish smile to her lips when deep down she enjoyed their back and forth banter of pure ridiculous things. As much as either one hated each other’s presence, they both knew deep down they enjoyed every single argument. Not that they would ever admit to it of course.

Their arguments only grew when Price would purposely team them up for missions, causing their voice to be heard in the earpiece going at it about the most smallest things. Which eventually causes Soap to mute them in annoyance every so often, he was honestly tired of their bitching but he’s only one voice, they wouldn’t listen to him.

Her mind then wonders to how either one reacts when one gets hurt. She doesn’t know if it’s just her but whenever he gets hurt on a mission, it feels as if her whole blood drains from her body whenever she sees him injured. She’s usually the first to patch him up whenever they’re clear, even if it’s just a graze on the arm, she’s there. But when she’s the one with a bullet, she’s noticed how he becomes very… protective? Firm? Quiet? She didn’t know how to explain it other than serious, more than he already is anyways. Like now, he’s quiet than usual, he’s always humming to himself as he thinks of a way out, or always throwing stupid jokes very once and a while, but now, he’s just leaning against the window in silence, blue eyes scanning for any threats.

And honestly. She’s had enough… of him standing. She knows for a fact that he’s been standing in the same spot like a goddamn reaper, and it’s honestly exhausting her.

“Ghost,” She calls out to him, no answer, so she tries again, this time by his rank, “Lieutenant,”

That got him to look over his shoulder. Eyes firm and dark as they meet hers. Definitely not sending an odd feeling down her spine from the way he glanced at her.

“I think we’re in the clear. You can sit down for now,” She tries, leaning her back to rest against the edge of the couch and closes her eyes,

Even with eyes closed, she can still feel his eyes on her. Watching her in dead silence, feeling the way his stare only burns her skin from how intense it felt. Eventually, about a minute or so, she begins hearing his heavy boots walking around the ruined floor. She didn’t want to open her eyes to see what he was doing, so she kept them shut and focused on the sound of his boots growing louder until she feels the couch dip next to her, along with a heavy exhausted sigh.

He had sat next to her.

I mean where else would he sit down? The floor?

Once again, silence surrounds them. Just the sound of rain, thunder, the low creaking of the building, and the slow steady breathing of (Y/n) can be heard. She eventually begins drifting away once again, her mind relaxing and sending her into a dreamless sleep until..

“Knock knock,” His deep baritone voice startles her, causing her eyes to snap open,

Without answering back, all she does is turn her head towards him with an annoyed look in her eyes. Ghost was fiddling with his gun, then turns towards her when he doesn’t receive a reply, the look he gives her with his piercing blues forces her to go along with his terrible, non appropriate dad jokes.

But that’s what makes him Ghost.

Rolling her eyes she replies back, “Who’s there?”

“I.O,”

“I.O who?”

“Me. When are you paying me back?” The small scoff that slipped from her lips was accompanied with a wide smile, he always found a way to crack her,

As much as she loathed it, she couldn’t stop the small chuckle that slips from her. Slightly coughing she clutches her covered wound when pain shoots towards her side.

“Get shot and I will,” She responds with a shake of her head, wide smile still plastered on her face,

A deep, amused, slightly muffled chuckle slips from the man’s mouth. Ringing beautifully in her ears, she can’t remember the last time she’s ever heard him laugh or even crack a smile, obviously, so the little gesture for sure brought a warm feeling across her chest.

Another wave of silence settles in between them for a few seconds, until he’s speaking once again. Bright blue eyes staring straight into her own (E/c) orbs.

“How you holdin up, really?” (Y/n) remains holding his gaze, feeling hypnotized by his eyes that she suddenly shares the truth about how she really felt,

Not the whole truth, but some of it.

“You should’ve left me,” She softly says, watching the way he slightly squints his eyes at her before looking away with a heavy sigh, then adds, “You should leave,”

“Don’t be daft,” Is all he says, eyes watching the window to his left, “I’m not leavin,”

(Y/n) rolls her eyes at his stubbornness. Why can’t he understand that all she wants is to save his life? Why does he have to be so fucking hard headed?

“I’m only slowing you down,” She pushes again, not noticing the way he shuts his eyes from annoyance and frustration,

“Sergeant,”

“If you leave now you’ll be able to call Soap, let him know your location and get help,”

“Nova,” He warns,

“Save yourself!”

“For fuck sakes (Y/n)! I’m not leaving you!” He finally averts his dark eyes towards her that were laced with rage, annoyance and firmness,

That familiar tension begins rising between them as they glare at one another. Neither one of them wanting to back down.

“You can nag all you want. You’re fuckin stuck with me,” He firmly points out, eyes never leaving hers,

She didn’t know what it was, but the feeling that was building in her chest was becoming too strong to push aside. It was an urge. An urge to launch at him, to grab ahold of him, shake him, slap some sense into him, to just.. touch him. She honestly didn’t know how to explain it nor she didn’t know how to understand it, but what she did understand was how much she craved this man right about now. It was the same urge she’s felt with every argument she’s had with him, she wouldn’t think much of it, until now. It was just too strong to ignore it.

Which is also the reason why her next words shock the shit out of her and causes her blood to grow cold from the sudden question that slips from her mouth after a minute of silence.

“Can I kiss you?” It was a shocking surprise for both of them, causing both their eyes to grow wide at the question,

(Y/n) because of shock and horror. Ghost because of pure utter shock, he was definitely not expecting that to come out of her mouth. He doesn’t respond, just feels the way his breath hitches in his throat the same time his body goes rigid. Hard like stone.

When she knows he won’t stand up and walk away, she slowly and hesitantly reaches a hand towards his mask. Dark eyes watch her slim fingers with caution, as if her fingers were sharpened knives itching to cut his flesh, then let’s out a shuttered sigh through his nose when he feels her small, but skillful, fingers tugging slowly at the hem of his balaclava. His eyes were on her the whole time she slowly rises the mask, then catching the small little exhale slipping out her mouth when she finally gets a view of his plumped pink lips, light scruff covering the sides of his jaw as she continues to rise the mask.

Knowing her boundaries, she leaves the mask just under his nose.

Her (E/c) eyes avert from inviting lips towards his own piercing blue orbs, silently questioning him if this was okay, if it was crossing a line, if it was okay to continue or if he wanted to stop. Little did she know he was burning on the inside for her touch. So many questions were written in her eyes, but before she can actually ask him anything, Ghost licks his lips before smoothly making the first move. Making her breath hitch when she suddenly feels his lips on her own, getting a strong taste of salted lips, dirt, and oil, although, she reacts back rather quickly to the kiss. One of her hands gently cup the side of his face while the other rests heavily against his thigh, even through his jeans, her touch burned his skin. She just had that effect on him.

After the second or third kiss, Ghost slightly pulls away to stare into her eyes, his own orbs searching for any regrets, discomfort, when he doesn’t find any he dives back towards her lips more fiercely. With much more passion, a little rough, but gentle and caring at the same time. Causing the kiss to quickly get heated the moment he slips his warm tongue into her mouth, earning a small whimper from her at the affection. Definitely igniting his arousal even more.

Next thing she knows, she’s gently being pushed down against the cushions with Ghost hovering over her, lips not once parting from each other.

A small groan that sounded more like a whimper shutters in between their lips when Ghost accidentally knocks his hips against hers, already feeling the outline of his harden member rub against her core through his jeans. He continues with his brutal teasing, thrusts becoming more firmer each time he rubs against her clothed core until she’s eventually a panting mess and begging him for more. She felt as if her body was on fire, her skin heating up like a goddamn sauna, even though it was nearly fifty degrees outside with rain pouring down on the roof, she felt too suffocated.

Not wasting another minute he lets his hands travel down her body until they land on her belt. Once unbuckled, he quickly slides her cargo jeans down her legs, lips still not leaving hers, even when a deep, choked groan slips from her bruised lips when he pushes her panties aside and slowly presses his rough fingers against her clit, gathering her wetness before diving two long, thick fingers inside of her. She’s not even sure when he removed his gloves, but she could careless at this point.

“Oh.. ffuck,” She harshly whispers, hot breath fanning over his mouth as he immediately finds his target, twisting and curling his fingers he brushes against that one spot,

A static feeling buzzes through her core all the way up to her stomach before dissolving into a cold shiver towards her shoulders as he continues to torture her g-spot. The sound of her wetness can be heard throughout the ruined apartment as he picks up his speed, her breath coming out in quick puffs with each thrust of his thick fingers. A hand was gripping onto the back of his neck, nails leaving imprints of small moon shapes against his skin as his speed only seems to increase while her other hand held onto his wide shoulder. Fingers curling onto his shirt.

“G-Ghost,” She moans his name as her peak was quickly rising, quickly tilting towards the edge,

But just before she can feel that euphoric feeling, she feels him withdrawing his fingers, earning a desperate sigh from her. Her eyes immediately snap open, confusion settling in her eyes from the sudden action, but before she can even ask she sees him shrugging off his vest before finally unbuckling his belt, awhile still being in between her legs. She then feels the way her mouth goes completely dry, as if a sudden sandstorm invaded her mouth, when she watches him shove his jeans down with one hand while the other reaches inside, pulling out his leaking member.

The head an angry shade of red, precum drooling from the tip with each slow stroke he makes. With the help of the moon light shining through the window, she can tell he was thick, feeling the way nervousness settles at the bottom of her stomach the longer she watches his hand slowly stroke his aching member, but boy did that also heightened her arousal. Quickly settling back in between her legs, Ghost hovers over her, the tip of his dick slightly rubbing against her covered mound as he makes himself comfortable, considering he left her jeans pooled at her ankles and had to maneuver himself in between her legs by lifting and crouching underneath. Taking off her boots and jeans completely seemed like a hassle, a risk he wasn’t willing to take, them doing this was already a risk, anything and anyone can ambush them at anytime, but if they were both being completely honest, that was the least of their worries. For now.

“You sure?” He asks for the first time since everything began, hot breath fanning against her lips as he achingly waits for confirmation,

Which he gets by her quickly nodding her head and reaches a hand to wrap around his member, earning a choked grunt from the man above when she strokes once, twice, before finally guiding him where she yearned him the most. With half lidded eyes he does his best to watch her reaction as he slowly sinks his girth into her heat. Letting her feel inch by inch. Her eyes tightly shut, mouth slightly open while small grunts, moans and whimpers breathlessly fall out, but with the feeling over powering him and the way she curses underneath her breath, he isn’t able to hold his gaze for long.

“F-Fucking hell,” Ghost breathlessly groans against her lips as her tight walls clamp around him,

The one hand he had holding her hips with a careful grip, suddenly lands heavily besides her head as he can no longer support his weight from the way her tightness kept sucking him inside. The air that was once in his lungs had been punched from him as the tightness only made it harder for him to hold back. They breathlessly pant against one another’s lips as he continues to push his hips, until a small yelp rips from her throat when Ghost fully sheaths himself in her heat with one full thrust. Pushing the rest of his member inside of her aching walls.

(Y/n’s) eyes were closed shut as she focused on subsiding the little pain and the feeling of being completely full after what seemed like months. Just because she’s the only woman on the crew doesn’t mean she goes around looking for any man, even if she were the type to just mess around with any guy that paid her any mind just to lose some steam, she never had the time to do so. It was always work with her, if she wasn’t working she was in a meeting, if it wasn’t a meeting, she was getting ready for the next mission, if not she was working out or at the shooting range or simply just tuning her guns. So of course it had been a while since she’s been sexually active.

After what seemed like a minute or so in getting accustomed to his length and focusing on her breathing, she slowly opens her eyes, only for them to catch the moment when Ghost pulls off the remaining of his mask, revealing his flushed, scruff face to her. Dirty blonde locks rested on top of his head, beautifully light skin with a couple small scars claiming their spots on his face, and those eyes. Those eyes that have always seemed dark underneath that mask are now written with a different emotion. Despite the black paint covering those eyes, it wasn’t the cold, brutal Ghost staring down at her, no, it was only Simon Riley staring down at her with those bright blue orbs of his. It was also the look of, uncertainty, hesitation in his eyes that brought out Simon, he was observing her reaction now that she’s seen his face, he was anxiously waiting for her to say anything, but what made another breathless shutter slip from his mouth was the feeling of her small hand cradling the side of his jaw. Her warm, slim fingers rested against his cheek as a small welcoming smile spreads on her face, causing the corner of his lips to tug into a small smirk the same time her fingers slowly make their way at the back of his neck and threading them with his short locks at the base of his neck before slowly bringing his face down until their lips are once again molding with each other.

While lavishing each other’s lips, Ghost—Simon slowly withdraws his hips before thrusting back into her heat with a rough snap, bringing a gasp from her lips. Hot breath fanning against his mouth as he continues with his slow but rough pace. Feeling the way her walls constrict around him only ignites the burning flame in his stomach, causing his pace to quicken, his thrusts becoming much more firmer. Earning breathless moans and grunts to slip from their throats with each snap of his hips.

Despite the lingering pain she felt on her side from the rough movements, she could honestly careless about it, the feeling that quickly starts to build and form into a tight knot in her core helps her push aside the aching on her side. Especially when he repositions his hips a certain angle, hitting that spot in a delicious way that has her seeing stars, and also from the way he breathlessly groans against her ear with each thrust he sends her.

“Simon,” She breathlessly moans his name, eyes tightly shut, one hand gripping onto his wide shoulders while the other held tightly on to the hairs at the base of his neck,

The way she sings his name, his real name, every so often and tugs firmly at his now damped locks, only quickens his pace. Hips thrusting faster and deeper, causing her body to move with each snap, along with the beaten couch. Knowing she’s close to the edge by her constantly moaning his name and feeling her walls clench, Ghost slips a hand underneath her right leg and let’s it slightly dangle from his arm, which not only allows him a little more space to move but also grants him to drive deeper into her womb. Earning another beautiful sound to slip from her parted lips as he doesn’t halt his movements from the new position, instead he only moves his hips with much more force.

“Oh sh-shit!” She cries out loud at the rougher pace, moving the hand that rested heavily on his shoulder to the side of his sweaty neck,

After what seemed like the tenth snap of his hips she couldn’t help the way her nails rake against his skin, leaving painful red marks on his neck, earning a deep groan from the man above who only inflicts the same small pain on her by sinking his teeth on the side of her neck.

“Si-..Sim-… oh ffuck,” Her words immediately falter as a blissful wave of electricity rushes through her, causing her eyes to shut tightly and only dig her nails deeper into his skin as her orgasm slams through her like an anchor reaching the bottom of the ocean,

Mouth agape, eyes tightly shut, fingers gripping onto his hair at the base of his neck, she rides out her orgasm. Wave after wave crashes through her. The feeling was like no other, stronger than anything she’s felt, definitely strong enough to cause her body to start shaking from the intense orgasm that rushes through her, making her feel slightly light headed and making everything around her to sound muffled in her ears. As if that wasn’t enough, he continues to thrust into her, fucking her through her orgasm, fucking her into oblivion, fucking her till she became overstimulated, yet even then, he still doesn’t stop. Only quickens his pace, slamming his hips into her, hands leaving marks on her skin from how hard he gripped her as his own peak starts to rise.

Which didn’t take long. From the way her fingers gripped tightly on his hair, nails raking against his skin, moans, whimpers leaving her lips, and her walls tightening against him had him tilting towards the edge. A couple thrusts later, his hips begin stuttering, his pace slowing down as he was nearing the end. With one final thrust he quickly pulls out just as his seed begins spurting out of him, painting the outside of her folds.

“Fuck!” He groans deeply against her neck as his own orgasm over powers him, leaving his body stiff as a rock as he rides it out,

A soft moan rumbles in her throat as she feels his warmth hitting her core, feeling the way it slides down her folds and most likely onto the beaten couch. Seconds passed as he continued to hover over her, large hands keeping him upright as he gathers his breathing, face buried on the side of her neck while warm breaths fan her sweaty skin. Once the high begins subsiding, he gently places feathery kisses against her neck, definitely feeling the way she shivers from this and only continues in moving his lips upwards; underneath her jaw, her cheek, the corner of her lips before hovering just above them. Noses rubbing together he looks into her eyes, no words, just stares into her (E/c) orbs and hopes whatever he wanted to tell her was readable through his own half-lidded eyes.

She must’ve because just as he closes the little gap between them, he catches the way the corner of her lips tilt upwards, indicating that she knew exactly what he meant through his eyes. The softly mold their lips together, pouring every emotion into it, tongues gently tangling with one another, tracing the outline of each other’s mouths. It was just untold emotions that were being expressed by their mouths, and they cherished every ounce of it.

“Have I paid you back yet?” She questions after breaking the kiss, feeling the way her lips shift upwards against his own,

Blue yes scan her face. Observing her features, the small scar on her upper left eyebrow from a mission, her (E/c) eyes that he has grown to love, another scar on her bottom lip from where an old piercing had been looped around back in her teenage days and finally her smile. Oh how he had fell for her smile, it was the one thing that let him know that she was good, happy, excited, herself. He lived for her smile, loved the way it brought warmth to his chest, loved the way it made his stomach flutter, and it was also at that moment that he knew he had fallen in love with you. Did it scare him? Absolutely. Would he admit it to you? Yes, just not right away. He was never good at confessions, but he did know how to express them towards the right people, and she was definitely one of them.

A small smirk tugs on the soldiers lips, blue eyes softening the longer her stares at her, “Believe you still have a debt to pay once we’re outta here,”

A cheeky smile spreads on her face at his words, obviously liking that idea. After a second or two, his smirk fades away as he slowly bends down to connect their lips once again. She hums into the kiss and only lets her fingers cradle the back of his neck, gently massaging the muscle as they continue to pour their love into the kiss. Eventually, about another 5 or possibly 10 minutes of lazily kissing one another, they part away. Once making sure her wound hadn’t been damaged even more, they silently fix their clothes to get ready for their extraction. Once their vests are safely clipped on their torso, gun safely tucked its holster, they stand by the window as Simon reaches for the button on his radio. Mask still off and gripped with the other hand.

“All stations this is Ghost in the blind how copy?” He gruffly says into his mic, waiting patiently for a response,

Just as (Y/n) places her earpiece in place she hears the most beautiful Scottish accent ringing in her ear, bringing a wide smile on her face, “Lt? Nice to hear you’re voice again,”

“Can’t say the same,” A small smirk tugs on his lips as he glances at (Y/n), causing a soft chuckle to escape from her as she lightly punches his shoulder,

“(Y/n) with you?” The sergeant asks, making her chest warm up from his concern,

“Affirmative,” Simon response firmly, definitely ignoring the way jealousy rises in his chest from the way Soap calls her by her first name and not by her callsign,

A relieved sigh is heard through their comms along with, “Glad to know you’re still kickin’ and breathin’ Nova,”

Still smiling she clicks the button by her shoulder, “Can’t get rid of me that easy big guy who else will keep you out of trouble?”

A deep chuckle vibrates in her ear, “Definitely would miss my partner in crime,”

“I’ve send you our location Soap, give us an estimate on your status,” Simon interrupts their conversation with a crabby tone,

Silence is heard on their line for a couple minutes before Soap is filling their ears once again, “About 15 minutes Lt,”

“Copy,”

A relieved sigh leaves (Y/n’s) mouth, she couldn’t wait to head back to base, see medical, get some grub, shower and fall face first on her bed. What would make it even better if another body accompanied her in said bed, but she knew she wouldn’t have to ask, he’d follow her without question.

“Let’s go home,” She tells him with a warm smile,

Simon looks down at her, chest fluttering and lips slightly shifting upwards as he scans her smile. Switching his mask to his left hand, he lets his right hand softly cradle the side of her cheek before closing the little distance and gently latching their lips together. He pecks her lips once, twice, thrice before moving his lips towards her forehead and letting it linger there for a good five seconds before parting away to glance into her eyes.

“Stay close,”

Her hand softly wraps around his wrist, smile tugging on her lips, “Always,”

Simons lips slightly lift, wishing he can enjoy this moment longer but they both had to get going, dropping his hand from her face he quietly slips on his mask and tucks it in his jacket. Once they were set he grabs ahold of the knob and turns towards her, he sends her a nod which she returns.

“Let’s go,” He states, opening the door and checking his surroundings with his rifle in the air,

Once cleared he motions for her to follow, which she does, right on his heels, never falling behind. Even after Soap had found them and they both safely climbed on board, they never parted away, well at least Simon didn’t. He could have sat across from her, stood next to Soap to fill him in about how fucked up the mission went, but instead, he sat right next to her. A gloved skeleton hand fitting itself with her own, fingers tangling with each other and remaining that way throughout the whole ride back to base. Neither of them caring about who can see, but definitely not being able to hide the way a smile creeps on their face— well Simon was a able to— but not (Y/n) when Soap sends them a childlike smirk when he catches their hands at some point.

They didn’t know it, but he was smirking for two reasons. 1.) He was glad they had finally worked their shit out and finally come to their goddamn senses. And 2.) He had just won 60 bucks fair and square from both Gaz and Alejandro.

Of course neither of them needed to know about the bet that was placed on them, but like always, Simon found out. After witnessing Gaz and Alejandro slide some cash towards a smirking Johnny, he waited for the child to turn around, causing him to collide with his stiff of a body before smacking him upside down on the head, causing a burst of laughter to erupt from both Gaz and Alejandro as the Lieutenant walks away, leaving a pouting Johnny as he massages the back of his head. What neither of them saw, because of the mask, neither of them saw the way a huge grin was plastered on Simons face as he walked away, obviously satisfied and for once extremely happy. The happiness in his chest only grew once his eyes landed on (Y/n) coming out of medical, who was smiling back at him.

He really was home.

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-Hopefully y’all enjoyed this rather long Fic! I’ve actually spent way too much time on this when I should be spending the same amount of time on my Research Paper that’s due this week 🥲

-Anyways, Thank You Guys for your Constant Support! Love Y’all!!

-Also, I’ve already collaborated with an amazing artist for my next Ghost Fic!! So stay tuned for that!! Make Sure to Turn On Post Notifications!! 🔔 For the Updates!!

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[bxbu-chuu]

I have very specific headcanons for how Sean's personality would be after every ending:

Redemption

I feel like after getting out of jail Sean is quiet, serious, almost shy in a very specific way. He starts traveling by himself after spending some time with Daniel, he has awkward interactions with waiters and clerks.

After so many years totally still, it feels like he can't quite catch up with the rest of the world- when a stranger stops him on the street to ask him a question he takes a second too long to answer, always slightly startled. He texts Daniel every day, his mom and Lyla frequently- short sentences, perfect grammar, dozens pictures of the places he's visiting but barely any of him.

Blood Brothers

He's angrier, grumpy, also serious. Of course there's some guilt for what they had to do to get to Mexico, specially at first, but it eventually becomes clouded by the anger that they had to do it. He's incredibly angry with the world, for taking away his dad, his youth, his innocence, Daniel's chance at a normal life and good education in a country where he speaks the language.

He has to take care of Daniel, Puerto Lobos is a beautiful place but Diego was right, back at the police station near the border- things aren't easy there. It's dangerous, and Sean does what he has to ensure they're both safe. Crime, stealing, adding a few people to the list of deaths they've caused- it's only a few more items in the list of things to weigh down his conscience.

In the end, he grows bitter. Unable to accept the guilt that comes with the things he's done, he tries to find solace in knowing that they made him do it, that he wouldn't be this person if they hadn't forced his hand. Most of the time it just angers him more.

He grows quiet, not in the awkward, endearing way that post redemption Sean is quiet. The world doesn't deserve to hear his voice, he doesn't deserve to be heard. He's sweet to Daniel, when he can, he cringes when he sees how fast he had to grow up. There's a permanent grimace on his face.

Parting Ways

This is the one where I think he stays the most similar. When he first gets to Puerto Lobos he's a complete mess- He's certain his brother hates him, he's convinced he forced him to do things he didn't want to and now he will never forgive him.

The guilt eats away at him, he's basically a ghost during his first years in Puerto Lobos. He does enough to eat and then just stays in his ran down home, letting speculation flood his overcrowded head.

When enough time finally passes for him to be able to reach out to Daniel he finds out he doesn't hate him at all. Daniel is living a semi-normal life, he will be able to leave house arrest when he turns 18, he sounds happy.

Then Finn/Cassidy shows up, maybe he deserves comfort. Maybe his life didn't end that day in Seattle. Maybe he can rebuild like Daniel did. He allows himself to be comforted, he hears the words "it wasn't your fault" and actually listens to them- agrees. He travels with Finn/Cassidy, sees the country, makes some memories that aren't haunted. Slowly gets back to life.

Being with people that knew him before makes him stay pretty similar but the ones who love him still can tell. When they're making a stop on a random town and he sees a little kid and just goes silent. When he wakes up in the middle of the night, agitated and soaked in cold sweat. When he stays quiet the rest of day after talking to Daniel on the phone. When they have to run to catch the train and he's the first one out of breath- muttering something about being a track runner under his breath. He still remembers what was taken from him.

[steampunkishfoxes]

Clara Carmine headcanons

Note: I'm new to the fan content scene on Tumblr, still figuring things out! I’m going to be making headcanons based on different fictional characters I adore, from different franchises/fandoms!

Clara Carmine is the daughter of Carmilla Carmine, one of the overlords in the series Hazbin Hotel on Amazon Prime. She’s one of my favourite characters and I wanted to dedicate my first headcanon post to her! Clara only has about 10-15 seconds of screen time, and one spoken line, but I adore her!

NSFW/SFW, Mature themes: discussion of death, discussion of cartels, discussions of weapons and violence, discussion of murder and a planned attack on a family, family themes, sexuality, pronouns, discussions of blood.

PERSONALITY HEADCANONS.

The following headcanons discuss what I think she would’ve been like on earth and what she’s like in hell.

-Clara is the younger of the two sisters, about 18 years of age physically, her soul is around 25 years old.

-She identifies as a demigirl, with she/they pronouns.

-She used to struggle a lot with her sexuality, she never really saw the fun in boys, but never paid attention to girls either. With help from her sister she found out she was lesbian around the age of 16 on earth.

-She looks a lot like her father, but her personality is more like her mother.

-Fluent in English, Spanish and French, though she’s attempted to learn Portuguese too.

-She’s fiercely protective over Odette, when the two were in school on earth Clara was always the one who stood up for her older sister when she was bullied.

-She hasn’t lost her confidence after finding herself in hell. She isn’t afraid to fight any demon that hurts her sister or mother, but doesn’t often get the chance to fight because of Carmilla’s protective and motherly nature.

-In the Carmine weapons business she takes the role of delivery girl alongside her sister Odette.

-In her free time she plays music, she has a customised guitar she uses to write and record her own song covers- this girl can SING!

-She’s very active on Sinstagram, posting music covers for any listening ear.

-Clara owns one soul, a lackey from the cartel she worked for on earth, who came to the Carmines for protection.

ROOM HEADCANONS.

Because every demon needs a safe place to call home, these are the headcanons I have for Clara’s room in the Carmine Mansion, down in hell!

-Clara’s room has slate blue walls and is covered with posters and pictures, most of them depicting her family. She has a large family picture of her, her mother and sister in front of their business on her ceiling above her bed, so she can look up at it every night.

-She has a queen sized bed with matte royal blue covers and a lot of pillows.

-She has a wolf plushie, affectionately named Wolfie, which she’s had since she was 2 years old. Wolfie has a top hat and bowtie.

!!MATURE THEMES AHEAD!!: discussion of death, discussion of cartels, discussions of weapons and violence, discussion of murder and a planned attack on a family.

The following headcanons discuss the surroundings of Clara’s death.

Family headcanon: Carmilla’s ex husband left her shortly after Clara’s birth, leaving her with two young daughters in a broken city in Mexico. Carmilla entered the weapons business, working for a well known and dangerous cartel. She started out delivering weapons but learned how to make them for a bigger payout. As her daughters grew up, she took bigger, more risky jobs to be able to protect them. One night a rival gang broke into their house and killed the family in cold blood.

-Clara was the first of Carmilla’s daughters to find out about her mother’s secret job, finding her making weapons in the garage when she was about 12 years old. Carmilla asked her to stay silent, but Clara told her older sister immediately.

-She was also the first to enter the family business, stealing a package Carmilla was supposed to deliver to the cartel. Clara delivered it instead and used the money she earned to buy her mother a birthday present. Carmilla told her not to do that, but reluctantly let Clara help with simple, risk free deliveries. Clara was 15.

-Clara befriended one of the cartel members, a bodyguard.

-Clara was the first one to die in the attack. When she was 19, her mother and sister were asleep after watching a movie. Clara was dozing off when she was startled wide awake by pounding on the door.

-Before she could even open it, the door was kicked open, hitting her in the head. She fell, her and her family were quickly grabbed and restrained.

-Clara was dizzy from the hit and confused, she vaguely heard shouting and crying.

-The last thing she saw as a human was her family, her mother’s and sister's faces as she was shot in the chest, the first death in the Carmine home invasion. Clara was 18 when she died.

-Clara’s cause of death was determined to be blunt force trauma to the head, and a fatal shot to the heart.

-She hides the shot mark under her shirt, ashamed of the moment she let her guard down.

LIKES/DISLIKES HEADCANONS.

Foods, colours, animals, and everything in between!

-Food: Anything spicy is a big hit! She hates bland and boring food and will often add peppers or some kind of hot sauce for that perfect kick with every meal! Except for breakfast, she’ll never try cereal with hot sauce again.

-Colours: Black, dark shades of green and blue. She’s not a fan of red, reminding her of the blood she saw on her hands when she died.

-Animals: Wolves, wolves, WOLVES! She loves any canine but mostly wolves! They remind her of how fiercely protective she is over her family! She doesn’t like birds, they creep her out.

-Music: Besides her own music, she loves music from her heritage! Flamenco, salsa, she’ll listen and sing along to it all! Classical music is a BORE though, it always makes her so sleepy.

-Movies: She was never huge on movies, but when she was little, she always watched the movie Balto, dreaming of snow. She hates movies with blood, it reminds her of her own weakness.

-A weird collection she has: Heart shaped stuff! If she’s out in the city and she sees a cool rock shaped vaguely like a heart, she’ll pocket it and show it to her family at home, some of her hearts are questionable, but she loves it all!

-A guilty pleasure: Watching the sunset from her balcony. It’s quiet and simple, she’s loved it since she was a kid.

-Her biggest fear: Being unable to try and protect her family, like when she died. She can’t handle the weak, pathetic feeling, she may have panic attacks when thinking about it.

CHARACTER HEADCANONS

How does Clara fall into the ensemble of hell? Who would she bond with, and who would she hate?

-Who from the entire cast would she hate the most?

The Vees, mainly Velvette, because of how she treats her mother.

-If she met the Hazbin Hotel staff and inhabitants, who would she bond with?

Vaggie, both are strong souls with a tragic past!

-Who would she most likely have a song with? About what?

With her mother and sister, a song about protecting each other no matter what, almost like an “Out for love” reprise

Thank you for reading all the way through!! I’m planning on making way more headcanons in the future! Feel free to ask for specific characters/headcanons in the comments!

A list of future projects:

-Odette Carmine

-Carmilla Carmine

-Zestial Morde

-Lute

-Adam

[maxinemeows]

The Furry Kingdom and its attack, Marshall's scar and his fall from grace

✧SO! Time for a rundown and some theories!✧

First off let's talk about the Furry Kingdom!

I am not gonna go into a ton of details here cuz there isn't much to talk about but we can say the obvious stuff: It's a monarchy reigned by King Magnus filled with anthropomorphic animals, the majority from what we've seen are females (the exceptions are: Marshall, King Magnum and the bartender that Marshall was sitting in front of,) also there seems to be a royal guard that Marshal is apart of and the princess was captured by the trolls.

Now that I mentioned the trolls, they seem to be from another kingdom in this world, (cuz Prince Britishimo has that title and also he said "the king says he's here." referring to Danny, that also makes me wonder how does the Troll King know? Was he the reason why Danny is trapped in this new world?) anyways this troll kingdom is probably near Furry Kingdom and because of it, it was easy for them to take the princess and run away with her.

They also took her to Furry Mexico, a place that doesn't sound like a place where the trolls live! So they took her to a more faraway and dangerous place than the "Troll Kingdom" (we don't know if that's the name of the troll's kingdom but it's probably that.)

Oh my that was a lot- uhm anyways-

Marshall and his backstory!

So, imma talk about everything we know about Marshall and add on it:

He lives in the Furry Kingdom, his village though was burned down lets say a couple of years back in the present by the Troll king and got a scar, he is part of the royal guard and knows how to use a sword and shurikens, he has a lot of internalized homophobia because he might be queer and maybe has a crush on the "The Hairless," he had a dad that was most likely killed by the King of the trolls (I don't think prince britishimo was the one who did it because Marshall didn't have a visceral reaction when he first saw him, but it makes sense that Prince Britishimo could've been told by his father about Marshall's dad just so he can piss him off instantly.)

Now let's first talk about his dad's death, he died when he was very young, killed by The Troll king. After this Marshall decided to train his entire life to protect his Kingdom and avenge his father, so he joined the Royal Guard, (maybe his dad was a guard too, so maybe he followed his steps) and he excelled at it and became King Magnum's number one guard and warrior...

Now that's interesting, Mary the fox, the one who told Danny and the audience about his scar story said "he used to be King Magnum's number one guard and warrior" so he isn't that anymore?

My theory is that when the Trolls attacked, Marshall failed to protect his village, also leaving the kingdom without its best warrior. He failed, and King Magnum doesn't like failure. (the only interactions between Magnum and Marshall was literally Magnum screaming at him and Marshal complaining.) So after this Marshall fell from grace, became just another guard and truly became a lone wolf...

OH yeah and his scar (that btw prince britishimo has two in both of his eyes), is very interesting, he has heterochromia (ironic cuz there is nothing hetero about this boy) a blue and a pink eye, and now yall might wonder "okay, where is this scar? His left or right eye?" good question! NO IDEA! Danny's style is inconsistent which makes sense but we can decide ourselves pfgjhgh.

From my observations, the most frequent is the left eye, usually blue, but in the flashback when he got the scar it was in the right blue eye- So yeah- pick your fave I guess.

I think this is all for today- Bye!! ^^