#hot dogs and kiwis | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

copperbadge · 7 months ago

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This is not to sniff at packaged food in any way, because cheap, uniform, nutritious, premade food is important and necessary. And despite what your local tiktok orthorexic may tell you, packaged food is still capable of providing solid nutrition.

That said, I've been making my own bread for about twenty years, and for the last ten or so it has often been easier to make bread than buy it, solely because I don't need to leave the house to do so, and I live alone so a decent loaf can last me a good ten days. Being able to make ones own bread in this modern era is a product of privilege -- the resources to buy the ingredients (especially high quality flour, not cheap), the time and space to bake, the stamina to knead or equipment to make kneading easier -- my breads improved a lot when I got a good stand mixer, and those aren't cheap. But also, to make a decent edible boule you can get by with flour, water, yeast, salt, and time. Throw in a little oil and you can make pizza crust; add in kneading and a bit of sugar and you have bagels.

It did somewhat change how I eat, because homemade bread is often a little difficult to make a sandwich with, but I was never a huge fan of sandos anyway. These days I often don't even make loaves -- I make rolls or bagels, or flatbreads.

But all of this is to say that because I'm now accustomed to eating my own bread, which is necessarily small-batch and produced without stabilizers that make commercial bread so soft and uniform, I am starting to struggle when I do buy bread because the flavor and texture often feel off. It's not that it's objectively bad food, but it's very different from what I'm used to, which is unpleasant. I've been aware of the issue for a while but previously even if the bread wasn't as good to me as my own, it was edible and convenient, so it was fine. Making your own hot dog buns is a pain in the ass.

I just bought a loaf of Italian bread, reasonably fresh, a brand I used to eat regularly, because I wasn't feeling up to baking anything. I've been making toast with it mostly. But yesterday morning -- admittedly while dealing with some nausea -- I bit into a sandwich I'd made with it (cashew butter and strawberry jam) and thought, "this feels like eating upholstery fabric."

I haven't been able to eat any more of it since. The soft, dense texture, the specific preservative flavor, the mouthfeel. I tried to eat some toast just now and had to spit it out because it felt like buttered brocade and I started to gag. I'm kind of mad about it, honestly.

The bread won't go to waste -- if I can't eat the rest of the bag I'll dry it out and crush it for breadcrumbs for fried chicken or a panade -- but it's both sad and funny that I have functionally baked myself into a corner where packaged bread is no longer even an option.

It feels like I'm becoming one of the middle-aged eccentrics I used to know when I was a kid -- older people or couples in my church, sometimes parents of my school friends, who were just kind of oddballs, hippie leftovers, what I still think of as Berkeley Weirdos (affectionate) even though Berkeley has long since gentrified. The lady who didn't have a functional oven or stove because she ate raw vegan or the family that converted their old station wagon to biofuel but kept the rear-facing back seats with no seatbelts and would give us death-defying rides to the community pool in them. I'm already growing my own basil because I eat an unlikely amount of pesto for one person. My signature potluck dishes are kiwi dip or egg-free meringues.

I don't mind, exactly. I loved the Berkeley Weirdos and the community they built for us kids. But it's definitely not a place I imagined ending up.

#food #weirdos #i should break out my copy of the Happy Mutant Handbook and see how well it's aged

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luveline · 1 year ago

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Hii

Whenever you have time could you please do more single dad!Spencer. It’s just too cute and it really warms my heart how you write it.

tysm ♡ dad!spencer and his daughter amanda find their reunion unexpectedly interrupted when you need a place to stay the night. fem!reader, 3.4k

Spencer doesn't mind how tactile Amanda is. If anything, he loves it, content to have her sitting in his lap or on his hip, anywhere he goes and anywhere she wants to be. He tries to get in as much affectionate time with her as he can when he's home to make up for his days away.

He doesn't like missing her, but he loves coming home. Amy sits on his stomach while Spencer lays on the couch, using his thighs as a backboard while they both fail to pay attention to the kids cartoons on their TV.

"Were you good for Mrs. Gomorrah?" he asks, though he knows she was. He had to live through the agony that was teaching Mrs. Gomorrah how to text on a cell phone he bought for her years ago, but it was worth it to get those incremental updates that he relies on every day to get to the next without catching a flight home.

Amy had pizza

Amy misses you. She said she is kissing you through my phone

Wants a new dress for school party tonight, emergency money OK to use? said she loves you

Aaskkk k k o

Sorry, accidentally texted you, Amanda made dinner tonight [photo]

The text messages help being far away feel less like torture. Spencer loves his job but he wonders if he should love it less, sometimes, when Mrs. Gomorrah remembers how to send photos, or when he can make it back to the hotel before bed time and call Amy.

But here she is in the flesh. Spencer doesn't worry about work when she's holding his hand.

"I was good," she confirms, wiping hair from her face with a blue sleeve. She's in her pyjamas at three thirty. Spencer's in his matching set, blue long sleeve t-shirts with two dogs —a grown up and a puppy, seemingly a dad dog and his daughter— on the shirt and miniature dogs on the pants. "Promise. We did fruit kebabs last night."

Spencer saw photos, but he still says, "Yeah? What fruits did you have? You know, strawberries will be extra yummy again soon because they're back in season."

"We had strawberries, and bananas, and the green one, kiwi." She puts one of her feet up on his chest. He makes wide eyes at it to hear her giggle. "And with chocolate and maple syrup, it was really yummy."

"We should make Tanghulu."

This is a new word for Amy. "Tanghulu?"

"It started with a berry called Chinese hawthorn, but now people use lots of different fruits. You make a fruit kebab, but instead of chocolate, you dip the fruit into hot sugar and it goes hard as it cools like rock candy, and you have good strong teeth, so you could eat it no problem."

"It turns the fruit into candy?" she asks, wiggling her toes.

"Kind of." Spencer covers her foot with his hand unthinkingly. She looks tired already though it's only the afternoon. She gets very tired when Spencer comes home, like she'd been waiting. "Do you want to have a nap with me, sweetpea?"

"No, I don't think so."

Spencer made a mistake when she was younger. He thought leaving while she was sleeping would make it easier to say goodbye. It was for him, but Amy didn't sleep or eat right for days, and Spencer had to come home before the case was over to stop her from making herself sick. They've worked on it, Spencer never ever leaves without saying goodbye, but she still gets scared to sleep when they're together sometimes.

He ushers her forward. "Come here," he says, "quick, give me a hug." She flops forward and Spencer arranges her into a cuddle, hand against her hair, his nose pressed to her forehead. "I missed you."

"Missed you more," she says.

"Not true. I missed you so much."

"Don't go away again for a day," she says.

"I'm staying home for a whole week. Maybe longer, okay? But I promise you, seven whole days no matter what." And he means it. The only thing that could change his mind is a mass murder situation, but otherwise, they'll have to make it work without him. He hates to say that kind of thing, but he has to say it, because Amy is his first priority.

She relaxes into his arms. "Okay."

His phone rings, because of course it does. Amy frowns her displeasure with tears shining silver in her eyes. Spencer shakes his head at her, "I'm not going, Ames. I promised. I won't answer anybody, this week is just going to be me and you."

She glares at the phone and rests her chubby cheek on his chest. Spencer wonders if it's uncomfortable considering his lack of padding and sits up with an arm behind her seatbelting her to his front. "Let's go watch TV in bed."

Her hands grab at the back of his shirt. "Bring your phone, dad," she says.

Spencer kisses the side of her head. "No, I told you already, I'm not going."

"What if Mrs. Gomorrah wants to come for dinner?" she asks, her voice smaller, sleepy. She rubs her face into his front.

It's a good point. Spencer picks up his phone to check if it was her and frowns at the missed call. It's you. You've texted him too.

"It's Y/N," he says.

Amy knows you because whenever he's had to bring her with him (not often, but occasionally on regular work days when there's school reset days), you're very, very kind to her. You're not sure of yourself around kids but it doesn't matter, you let Amy sit with you if she wants to and you always talk to her with care, offer her snacks, anything that you can share.

It's why he calls you back. That, and you're a nice friend.

—

You're feeling about as ashamed and sheepish as a girl can be as you take the elevator up to Spencer's floor. You don't want to impose on anybody, but you'd rather have died than ask Hotch, JJ's taking a vacation in Santa Monica, Penelope's on a conference with Kevin, Emily chose to use her week on an undisclosed trip, and Morgan was similarly off the radar.

And you know Spencer has Amanda, you know they've been apart for longer than they've been together this month, and you hate interrupting their time together, but… you couldn't stay home no matter how badly you wanted to. Stupid landlord. Stupid cockroaches and stupid fumigation tents.

You carry your go bag with nothing but a week's worth of dirty clothes and your wallet. Your phone is about to die and you'd really wanted, more than anything, to crawl into bed and sleep the daytime away.

You've never been to Spencer's apartment despite knowing him well, and liking him more. You knock on the door, apartment 305B. You're dead on your feet at this point, exhausted by the jet ride home, the commute to your apartment, the subsequent ten minutes spent crying on the sidewalk, and the next half hour debating if you could bother Spencer. Maybe you should've got a hotel, but it was already getting late and you just needed something familiar. Selfishly, you needed someone you knew after such a shitty case.

"Hello," Spencer says, opening the door with a familiar girl held in his arms, "don't mind my jacket."

Amy's clearly sleeping, tiny snores echoing from near his neck. It's cute, but it makes you feel much worse. "I'm sorry–"

He doesn't let you apologise, "Are you kidding? What were you gonna do? We're excited to have you." He's kind of talking to you like Amy's still awake, enthusiastic whisper-shouting as he pulls you inside.

"It's just for tonight, I promise. They said I'll be able to back in by evening tomorrow," you say, holding your bag to your chest. You blink at him as you follow him to the kitchen. "Are you wearing matching pyjamas?"

"You came over last minute!" he defends with a laugh.

Spencer opens his hand for your bag and puts it behind a steaming bowl of soup. "Oh, were you guys eating dinner?" you ask.

"No, that's for you. I'm gonna put Amy in bed and then I can do your laundry. Did you need a hug?"

"What?"

Spencer smiles at you. "I thought maybe you're having a bad day." He offers his empty arm and you don't know how to say no, don't want to, careful not to bump into Amy as you curl your arm behind his back. "We're happy to have you. You could stay all week and that would be fine. Did they really give you no warning?"

"I called my landlord and he laughed and then kind of got quiet. I think he forgets that I live there."

Spencer pulls away and puts a hand on Amy's back. She's very slight like Spencer but if she were any older he'd struggle to carry her for as long as he has. You can see the fatigue trembling in his left arm. "It's not legal for him to leave you with nowhere to stay, and without any notice. You could ask Hotch–"

"It's okay." You gesture to Amy's face. "She's getting so big."

"And heavy. Be back in a few. Eat on the couch if you want to."

You wouldn't. Spencer takes Amy into one room off of the main room, and then comes back to grab your laundry before disappearing into another. His apartment is a fun but odd layout, the door leading into a living room slash kitchen with a dining table, then opening out left and right, bedrooms toward the back of the apartment and a bathroom behind. It reminds you of a flower, that central hub of life and the petals curling outward.

You pick up your spoon cautiously. He definitely said the food was for you, but it's so strange to be greeted with a meal, you can't remember the last time someone made sure you had something to eat.

Spencer doesn't attract your attention until he's pulling up a chair next to you with two glasses set on the table. "I put your pyjamas on quick wash. And your, uh, your grey bag."

Your grey bag is a little net bag full of delicates. You try to be adult about it, but it's so super awkward that you end up laughing aloud, "Oh, shit, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It doesn't bother me if it doesn't bother you. I just put the entire bag in, like, intact."

You believe that, but you infer from the tightness of his voice that he's worried you'll think he's weird. Honestly, he's just nice, even if it's awkward. Everybody wears underwear. "That's what it's for," you say.

"Do you think they make those in a bigger size? Amy's vests get tangled sometimes because the straps are skinny, that would be useful."

"I'm sure they do," you say, toying with your spoon. "I… really don't know how to say thank you. I know we're friends, but it's different. To let me stay."

"When I was a kid I didn't have many friends. By high school I didn't have one. So I never got to have sleepovers until Amanda. And she's my best friend, but she's six, so…"

You both laugh suddenly, beaming at one another in your wrinkled, mismatched clothes.

You finish your meal through lighthearted conversation. Spencer takes your dish for the sink and you both move to the couch to watch TV.

Clifford the Big Red Dog plays on mute. "I know you're thrilled to watch something this intellectually tantalising, but maybe we should watch a movie. There's a guide under the cushion," Spencer says.

You dig for the guide but wherever he thinks it is, it isn't.

"Doesn't matter. Mrs. Gomorrah will have one, I'll take her some dinner at the same time. Would you keep your ear on Amy? She might wake up."

He makes a tray for Mrs. Gomorrah, a neighbour and good friend of his. You've met her once when she brought Amy into the office, an Italian-American woman who's black and silver hair bounced when she talked. Beside his mother living in a sanitarium in Nevada, and his small daughter, Mrs. Gomorrah is Spencer's only family. He treats her accordingly.

The washing machine starts to beep a few minutes after he's left. You spring from the couch and track down his washer and dryer, transferring your damp wash into the dryer and frowning at the machine's strange settings.

"Daddy?" a small voice calls. Sharper, unhappy, "Daddy?"

"Amy!" you say, moving from your crouch to stand in the doorway. "Hi, honey! Your dad just went to give Mrs. Gomorrah some dinner."

Amy squints at you. "Miss Y/N?"

"Hi," you say tentatively. "My house is kind of broken for a bit and I asked your dad if I can stay the night." You bend to meet her eyes properly. "Would that be okay with you?"

"Yeah," she says, smiling. "Yeah, please stay. Daddy's friends never come over."

"Did you need something, honey? I can help."

"No… You're sure he's at Mrs. Gomorrah's?"

"Definitely one hundred percent positive. He can't go to work without me, can he?"

Amy shrugs little shoulders. "I guess not."

You can't help laughing at her. With the sound of the dryer bumping behind you, you meet Amy near the dining table and touch her shoulder gently to prompt her toward the couch. She jumps up onto the seat with the most cushions and you sit beside her. You and Spencer never managed to pick a movie, so the kids channel still plays on mute.

"How do you turn it up?" you ask, offering her the remote hopelessly.

Amy sidles against your side and points. You click the small white speaker button, greeted by the barks of another episode of Clifford.

"Is this one okay?" you ask.

"I love Clifford."

It can't be two minutes before she rests her head against your arm, her hand locking over the crook of your elbow.

You're not sure what to do. She's Spencer's kid, so she probably does. "Do you want a cuddle?" you ask her. You'd be happy to give her one, but you don't know what's okay with her.

"Please."

You hang your arm across her shoulders and behind her back, stroking a tentative and short line into her arm, just once. "These are nice pyjamas, Amy. I saw your dad has the same ones." They're soft under your arm. Her hair brushes your wrist as she turns her head to crinkle her nose at you.

"Thank you. Me and dad have all matching pyjamas," she says proudly.

"All?"

"Well, maybe not all. But lots."

She hums and shuffles closer to your chest. It felt odd at first —although Amy has sat in your lap at your desk at work, and even given you a hug on her birthday to say thank you for the books and candies, you're not used to children or the things that they want. But it feels less foreign the longer she sits there, and you find yourself relaxing for the first time that day.

Spencer comes back with a shiny TV Guide Magazine and a bundle of Amy's clothes under his arm. His eyes light up as her head peeks over the back of the couch.

"Sorry, I was just at Mrs. Gomorrah's," he says, quickly putting everything down to take her into his arms.

"I know," Amy says into his shirt.

He kisses her head. You almost miss it, the affection quiet and swift. "Was your nap okay? Or do you need another one?"

"Dad! Y/N's here."

"Y/N doesn't care that you take naps, she takes naps too." Snoozing up against his shoulder with drool running down your chin.

"No, I can't sleep because we're having a slumber party!"

"We are?" he asks.

"But she needs matching jammies."

"Well, I don't have anything matching, but it won't be long for all my clothes to dry. I can wear jammies, then, at least," you assure her, sending Spencer a squinting smile that says, She's the cutest thing on planet Earth.

He smiles back, as if to say, She really is. "Maybe Y/N wants a nap."

Amy's concern lands on you. She climbs out of Spencer's arms, pressing her hand to your shoulder. "Please don't nap, I want to play games."

"I'll play games, babe," you say. "Any game you want."

"Yes! And, and maybe we can make, um–" Puzzled, Amy quirks her mouth into a frown and bounds back to Spencer. He rounds the couch and leans down at her gesturing. "What's it called, the fruit candy?" she whispers.

"From earlier?" he whispers back. "It's tanghulu. Tang-who-loo."

She whispers a sweet thank you, spinning on the spot with her hands held behind her back. "We can make tanghulu, it's fruit kebabs turned to candy! Do you want to?"

Spencer smooths her hair back from her face. "You don't have to," he mouths, already squeezing her arm like he's prepared to talk her down.

"Well, if it's okay with your dad I'd love to."

She gasps happily, jumping down off the sofa to race into the bathroom. "I'll wash my hands!"

Spencer snorts and sits on the couch arm. "Notice how she didn't even ask me?"

"You know that's a good thing." Spencer's probably read every parenting book there is. "She's so smart, Spencer. So smart, it's incredible. You're amazing."

He scratches the collar of his sleep shirt, his curls moving as though woken by a gentle breeze as he nods to one side, "She shows some signs of an eidetic memory. Not like mine, but most children who have eidetic memories don't have them like I do. I can't take the credit for that, you know, beyond genetics."

"Of course you can, someone had to teach her these things for her to remember them. You're never as nice to yourself as you should be, Spence. Everybody knows you're a great dad." You slouch back into the couch. "And I'm not just saying that because you're letting me stay for free."

"There's no version of this situation where I would ever charge you. Thank you, Y/N. Having her by myself has been hard– it's hard. She's easy and I love her and she's better for me than she probably should be." He winces, his talking rushed, like he's listing statistics. "I haven't really been by myself. Mrs. Gomorrah. The team. We've known each other for a year but you act like Amy's family whenever you see her, and that means a lot to me. That's why I'm glad you called. You can always call me if you need help."

"You can always call me," you murmur back.

Spencer bumps your thigh with his knuckles. "I'm glad we're friends. Are you sure you're not too tired? Tanghulu isn't easy if you've never made it."

"Says who?"

"East Asian Eating, issue 78. We have to find the sugar, water, glucose syrup sweet spot or the candy doesn't harden."

"We can do it. You're the smartest guy I know, and I've been known to be resourceful. Plus, we have a world class assistant."

Spencer stands up and offers you his hand to help you come with him, his fingers brushing yours for a moment that seems to stretch for minutes. "Just curious," he says softly, to your heart's clear delight, "when was your last check up at the dentist?"

Right. He isn't about to tell you something you want to hear. This is Spencer —you should've guessed an odd question was on the horizon.

"I'll have to think about it," you say.

Amy bounds out of the bathroom and paints a trail of water droplets from the table to the kitchen. "He thinks you have weak teeth!" she explains.

"That is not what I think."

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #dad!spencer reid

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mapiforpresident · 11 months ago

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Pregnancy Cravings

Our Little Family blurb (Part 1) (Part 2)

~~~

You woke up at 2 am for the third night in a row, needing to pee. You were wedged between your wives, both of whom had a protective arm around you. Somehow, both their maternal instincts had already kicked in, and even unconsciously, they were very protective of their son.

"Mis amores, wake up," you whispered.

"What... what is it? What happened?" Mapi said as she shot up, looking you up and down. Alexia also immediately woke up and helped you sit up.

"Nothing, your son is just sitting on my bladder again," you said as Alexia helped you out of bed.

As you made your way to the bathroom, you started to think about how hungry you were. You really wanted a hot dog, ice cream, and kiwi, none of which you had in the house. As you flushed the toilet and washed your hands, you started crying, realizing you had none of these foods at home. You walked out of the bathroom sobbing, and both of your wives immediately jumped out of bed, questioning what was wrong or if something happened to the baby.

"I really want a hot dog with caramel ice cream and kiwis, but we don’t have any," you sobbed.

Mapi and Alexia scrunched their noses at the combination of food and shared a look, silently communicating about how to handle the situation.

"Oh amor, I will run to the store around the corner. They are still open. Alexia will stay here with you until I get back, ok?" Mapi said as she led you to sit back down on the bed. Your tears immediately vanished.

"Really? You would do that for me?" you asked, sounding excited at the prospect of getting the foods you wanted.

"Of course, amor. I would do anything for you," Mapi replied as she kissed your forehead and went to pull a shirt and sweatshirt on. "I’ll be back in ten minutes, ok?"

"Amor, let's lay back down while we wait. Do you want to watch Beauty and the Beast again?" Alexia said, helping prop you up against the headboard but still pulling you into her side. You eagerly nodded your head after hearing the name of your favorite movie.

Mapi was back exactly ten minutes later with the food. She got started on cooking the hot dog after she brought you the other things she bought. Alexia noticed a frown on your face as you started eating your ice cream, looking like you were about to cry again.

"What’s wrong, amor? Is it not the right flavor?" She asked, knowing how tired Mapi was she might have made a mistake.

"No, no, it’s right... it’s just that now I am craving waffle fries," you replied.

"Well then, I will go get you waffle fries, amor. I can’t have my baby mama and son be hungry," she said as she got up to also get dressed. "Mapi, can you please preheat the oven?"

While waiting for your other food, you contently ate your ice cream and fruit while watching the movie.

#woso #woso x reader #fcb femení #mapi leon #fcb femení x reader #alexia putellas one shot #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #mapi leon imagine #mapi leon x reader #alexia putellas

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ever-so-slightly-monstrous · 7 months ago

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#the locked tomb #gideon the ninth #harrow the ninth #nona the ninth #tumblr polls

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caniscorvidae · 6 months ago

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rolling time!

#he really really loves grass okay #it is hot today ugh #i love his eevee tail tip in the first photo #kiwi dog #one year #shetland sheepdog #sheltie #dogblr #op #2024

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carlos-in-glasses · 1 month ago

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2024 Fic Round Up

I have posted 12 fics on Ao3 this year! I’m amazed. I truly thought I would post maybe half of what I did in 2023, which was 13! I’m going to go ahead and assume I won’t post as much as this next year as my work life continues to go hoo-ha bananas busy, but writing Tarlos fic is still my favourite thing. I’m super excited with the AU I’m working on currently, so that’s definitely one for 2025!

Something I’ve really enjoyed this year is writing fic because of gifts, organized exchanges, prompts and sparking ideas with friends. Fics that wouldn’t exist without others. It’s reinforced for me how this is a creative community and it’s wonderful to be part of it. Art begets art!

In order of most recent postings:

September – October- November - December

Fall On Your Knees (15k, E), my Secret Santa fic for @heartstringsduet

Read if you’re in the mood for: Tarlos breakup era angst, fun smut and family feels.

Rhythms (107k so far, still posting, E)

Read if you’re in the mood for: Carlos reflecting on his poet-jock closeted high school life and working on his vows for TK years later after fighting through writer’s block.

Tell Me How I’m Supposed to Breathe With No Heir (11k, E)

Read if you’re in the mood for: A 4x12 coda in which TK tries to figure out why he wants to be a dad.

Deeper than Breath, Closer than Air (5k, E)

Read if you’re in the mood for: The aftermath of TK saving the world with his little fan.

His Husband's Voice (1k, M)

Read if you’re in the mood for: Carlos crying with TK behind a bush.

June- July - August

Let Me Be The One Who Shines With You (13k) – a birthday fic for @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut

Read if you’re in the mood for: An origin story/love note for TK’s yellow hoodie.

Keep the Lights On (13k, E)

Read if you’re in the mood for: A chaotic 1x05 coda. One of my faves from this year. There's something about season 1 Tarlos.

The Wonder of It (30k words, E) – A birthday fic for @thisbuildinghasfeelings, written with @ladytessa74 and @lemonlyman-dotcom

Read if you’re in the mood for: Tarlos becoming dads and a mystery solved!

April-May

I Was Thinking About Your Mouth (31k words, E) – for @welcometololaland because a conversation with her inspired it!

Read if you’re in the mood for: Particularly stupid sex pertaining to TK accidentally proposing to Carlos during very good blow jobs.

January-February (nothing in March)

Search and Rescue (15k, E) – A Tarlos Secret Cupid fic for @honeybee-taskforce

Read if you’re in the mood for: Tarlos attempting to adopt a wise, retired service dog and ending up with a goofy golden retriever who turns their lives upside down.

Where All This Love Comes From (107k words, E)

Read if you're in the mood for: A journey through Carlos trying to figure out his relationship with his father, as well as who killed him, and TK opening up to Carlos about his addiction. Probably my personal favourite.

You Can Leave Your Hat On (6K, E)

Read if you’re in the mood for: Shivering, bickering guys who are super hot for each other and also the most absurd paragraph about ~self pleasure~ I could ever have dreamed of writing. Not that I dreamed of it ever really. But here we are. I was very proud to begin 2024 with this fic.

Big love for the tags: @heartstringsduet @whatsintheboxmh @bonheur-cafe

@ladytessa74 @everlastingday @thisbuildinghasfeelings @futures-tense

@henrygrass @strandnreyes @alrightbuckaroo @lemonlyman-dotcom

@alrightbuckaroo

Open tag and tags below!:

@nisbanisba @sapphic--kiwi @emsprovisions @ironheartwriter

@hereghostslive @nancys-braids @captain-gillian

@butchreyes @literateowl @laelipoo @pimento-playing-hopscotch

@eclectic-sassycoweyes @tellmegoodbye @orchidscript

@herefortarlos @sugdenlovesdingle @theghostofashton @freneticfloetry

@chicgeekgirl89 @liminalmemories21 @carlossreaders

@freneticfloetry @welcometololaland @rmd-writes