#also I cheated and rolled up my tank top instead of actually having a crop top

[totallynotagentphilcoulson]

POV you’re in a 1980s tropical neonoir but the wisecracking baseball-loving private investigator you’ve hired is a time displaced butch Cro Magnon from the Magdalenian epoch* instead of an ex Navy Seal dude.

*don’t worry this isn’t a meanly self-deprecating joke about my body hair and current lack of socially-accepted femininity. This is a joke about my heavy brow ridge and noticeable occipital bun, and hobbyist-level ability to knap lithic tools

(They/She/He [but that last one is rly just for the worksona])