#if you support her works in any way you support her.
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johanna-swann · 2 days ago
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I actually have sooo many issues with 911 lately that haven't even got much to do with any ships.
Like. They wrote out almost all of the side characters. Chris is gone, Linda and Sue are gone, Athena's kids are gone (even though Harry just moved in with her and Bobby again? Seriously, where is Harry?), Ravi is gone, Carla is gone. I know the GA maybe don't care that much, casual viewers might not even have noticed that this many characters have just vanished from the show, but in my opinion this is one of the things that give a show running as long as 911 life. Having a big cast is a good thing. Otherwise things are going to get very monotonous very soon.
Actually, that's my second point. They keep repeating storylines! Every season Hen and Karen have to fight a custody battle over one of their kids.
Every season Eddie ends up realising he has a lot of repressed trauma and issues which keep him from leading a healthy happy and free life.
Every season Bathena realise that they have communication issues and they fight about it, but then something traumatic happens and they forgive each other without ever really talking things out.
Every season we are reminded that Maddie's most prominent character trait is "traumatised", the writers just alternatingly bring up Doug again and sometimes the ppd arc.
Every season we see Buck being somewhat restless, looking and searching for something that will bring him true happiness and cycling through love interests that never stick around and each time when you think "oh, there it is, he's getting somewhere now" the writers go "BEEEP! WRONG!" and we start all over again. [This is not just about recent events aka Tommy, the break-up and Buck potentially going back to his 1.0 ways, this also happened in season 6 when he had his "it doesn't matter what other people see in me, I'm enough" revelation only to suddenly be like "omg, Natalia just sees me".]
And Chimney- he had his moment last season with the wedding episode, Kenneth Choi really ate that episode up, but his most prominent character trait is "Maddie's supportive husband". There's really not that much going on with him otherwise.
Another point I briefly touched upon above is consistency. Like Harry moving back in with Athena and Bobby and then just vanishing. Or Gerrard being more like a slightly unfriendly grandpa than an actual antagonist in season 8 when he was still spouting slurs in season 7.
And the timeline! We talked about this before ("last March", Mara's fostering to adoption timeline, Tommy tranferring to harbour "5 years ago"), but the newest "Tommy was actually Abby's Tommy" twist just adds to that. Tommy was with Abby for over 2 years. They were engaged. This was at a time when he was still at the 118. Tommy dated Abby presumably because he was in denial or maybe because he was hiding. In either case, wouldn't his team at least have heard about his fiancée, Abby the dispatcher? Wouldn't that have rung a bell when Buck eventually brought her around only a year or two later? Tommy did talk about his private life at least a little at work, even under Gerrard. It just doesn't make sense. (Not to mention this seems wildly out of character for Tommy who around the same time also said about himself "being single is easier".)
Then there's the pacing. This was a huge issue in season 7. They jumped from one personal soap opera drama to the next without taking any breathers, had almost no procedural in their drama the whole season, still somehow decided to spend one third of the entire season just on the opening disaster and also squeezed in a "Bobby begins for the third time now" episode. But okay, it was a shortened season, there were strikes, they switched networks, they were under a lot of pressure - I'll cut them some slack. At least they set up a bunch of interesting stuff for the following season.
But we're in season 8 now. The renewal was announced very early, they had a lot of time to plan this time. Also they have almost double the episodes they had last season, there's really no need to rush any of the major plots. I am done cutting them slack.
They wanna do a 3 part opening disaster again? Okay fine, you have the time now. I feel like they could've easily done it in 2 episodes (especially 8x02 felt a little "eh"), but okay. Better than the breakneck speed you were going at befo- Oh, what's that? 8x04 flying in with a steel chair. You resolved 70% percent of the plots you set up last season in one single episode with no build up, no emotional pay off and no lasting consequences? And you also squeezed in multiple unrelated calls at the same time? Damn, okay then. Good-bye potentially interesting storylines. Fuck me for being invested I guess. I thought there would at least maybe be some follow up in 8x05, but no.
Now that Halloween episode wasn't bad, it was actually the best episode of this season imo, but instead of following up on previously established conflicts and developments they just hit us with new Wilson family trauma and conflict that was also immediately fixed again. And now 8x06 has speedrun and dumped another storyline that had potential to go to deeper and interesting places. Not gonna talk too much about that though because this post is about the show as a whole, not ships.
And I am not yet convinced that there will be much more to come on the only thing that's left from last season: Eddie's deep dive into his trauma and repression. It's totally possible at this point that being told "you deserve nice things" by a random stranger actually solved all of his problems, it would be very in tone with 911's new style.
What are they even gonna do with the rest of this season? Revisiting the Hotshots set sounds fun, but ultimately inconsequential. You know what's great about a regular old procedural drama with ~20 episodes per season that comes on weekly? You have time. You can let the viewers sit with their emotions and thoughts for a week and keep them engaged by stretching things out a little.
But why should I bother getting emotionally invested in problems the characters are gonna solve within the same episode anyway? Or rather, even if I wanted to, how am I supposed to care if you don't give me the time to develop any feelings about anything that's happening? "Henren lost in court and are now completely forbidden from seeing Mara at all!" Damn, that must be so har- "JUST KIDDING! Ortiz is exposed and everything is perfect again now." Oh. Okay then, I guess.
Bottom line: The characters are all stuck in their own hamster wheels, they keep cutting side characters that could bring a breeze of fresh air (I'm honestly surprised they even kept Josh until now), they rush through all the storylines a such a ridiculous speed that I don't even have time to feel any sort of way about it, they don't even try to keep a consistency or sensible timeline going and they seem to strongly prioritise random funny bits that'll entertain the very casual viewers right now in this moment (tiger call, Billy Boils, Bee-nado, the 'Stache tm, "wait, it's the same Abby?", Gerrard being a fangirl at heart) instead of playing the long game and catering to people who actually pay a little attention to the show.
[On that last remark: I'm not talking about hardcore fans who analyse every single frame here, I mean casual fans who've watched the show on and off again for a while and who may not be involved in fandom but genuinely care about the show.]
I mean. What am I even still doing here? The show is treading water and I end up disappointed more often than not. I'm still holding out a little hope that they actually will do something interesting with Eddie and his sea-monkeys, but I wouldn't be surprised if they didn't.
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usedpidemo · 16 hours ago
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Getting closer (Kang Hyewon)
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“All I’m saying is—” Hyewon looks away, drink in hand, taking a little sip, calm and alluring as ever, “if you only want to see me naked, then you could have just said so.”
You widely stare back, silent, indifferent—or at least pretend to be. It’s gotten you a fair amount of awards, after all. It’s not the slightest bit of convincing whatsoever.  
She laughs, softly, as if this was the expected outcome. “So I’m taking that as an admission.” 
Setting down the near-empty wine glass on the bathroom sink, Hyewon attempts to walk away, only to be stopped by a sudden pull. Your hand appears tightly wrapped around her dainty wrist, unwilling to let go. Your eyes aimlessly wander up and down the empty void that is her black dress. There are hardly any thoughts behind that predictably empty head of yours, only the simplest of desires.
You catch the subtlest grin forming on her saccharine lips. You fucking hate how she makes you feel. How she makes your heart race with every exchange.
Despite all the time you’ve spent together, you wish you got to know her better.
—————
The last year and a half of your career has mostly centered around one thing, or in this case, one person: Kang Hyewon. There’s also this drama starring your pairing as co-leads, and you’ve been promoting together, but your names make up more of the headlines than the very show. Your names are synonymously tied together akin to an actual couple.
Unsurprisingly, Hyewon is damn gorgeous. It’s how she’s getting the calls to begin with. Another one of those former singers turned actors looking to be taken seriously within the larger entertainment industry. Most never make it past their first project and fall back on their old careers, with some completely flaming out of the spotlight altogether. She’s an exception. A minor part here, a supporting cameo there—until she’s more than pleasant eye candy. A starlet who knows how to pick what roles would showcase her talents the most. 
She’s the perfect blend of beauty goddess and hotshot young star that the internet can get behind.
So it comes as a surprise when she’s casted as second fiddle to you, the first billing—and everyone comes away talking about her more. The scene stealer. 
(This plucky rival agent, investigating a case your character has been trailing for years, barely scraping by with the thinnest of clues, only for her to uncover the mystery only days after starting the investigation. The writing screams Mary Sue, but she acts convincing and vulnerable enough to escape the scathing think pieces that’s commonly associated with such characters. Not to mention: you both look damn good together on screen and during your public appearances.
It’s a team that sailed a thousand ships—both for your characters and in the real world.)
The consummate professional you are, you don’t think much of it. Your filming experience can only be described as businesslike. Except for the scenes where you’re together on screen, you’ve been separated at arms’ length, only exchanging words between takes to keep any further relationship from developing. It’s only during the press tour where you’ve finally gotten somewhat close.
Perhaps a little too close for comfort. Enough to make video compilations by overzealous fans who think you and Hyewon are really an item. The evidence is everywhere—in interviews, behind the scenes content, and on both your Instagram pages. At least, that’s what they want to believe. Everyone else brushes it off as two hot people being hot together, and not much else.
Here’s the thing: you love Hyewon—that much is true. The question now is: does she love you back?
Thankfully, your duo doesn’t get in the way of the show being lauded, despite making up a majority of its fandom. Positive reviews from both critics and viewers, especially in regards to your chemistry. The connection between you two is one in a million, something that can’t be built over years and years of working together. It also helps your performances sell the dynamic incredibly well—well enough to create those delusional shippers that form the bedrock of your partnership. 
Your names were positioned to go far during awards season. Not the consensus top pick, but as dark horse contenders to steal one every now and then. And while you both won your fair share of accolades, neither of you ended up walking away with the top prize. The conversation during the final ceremony of the year consisted primarily of the media and viewers talking about how your appearances together these last few months—and how you’re a match made in heaven. 
Everyone’s gonna miss this pairing—and so will you.
Now you’re back at square one. Having snuck away from the afterparty currently celebrating the dozen or so awards your show won earlier tonight, you’ve brought Hyewon back to your hotel room. Neither of you cared once you both lost your respective categories. The pundits thought you each only had the slimmest of odds to win, so why bother. Hell, you were both itching to leave as soon as the red carpet concluded. 
It’s all behind you now. You’re finally free from the glitz, glamor, and chaos of these vanity ceremonies and can really focus on what really matters—the pretty girl that you most likely won’t be seeing starring tomorrow. Your careers and interests couldn’t be any further apart: your main focus is movies, while hers are dramas. Both of you remain booked and busy for the next few years with different projects, with not a single one reuniting you two for the foreseeable future.
Back to Hyewon. She’s looking down at her wrist, tightly held by your hand. She allows it. You can feel her pulse. You sense that your hearts are racing in unison, tense and anxious.
“Are you gonna do something?” she questions, daring you to pull the trigger. She knows something you don’t—or maybe you do. You’re blinded by fear to realize it. “The night is fleeting. If not now, then when?”
Her words ring through your head. 
If not now, then when?
The same five words, ordered in the exact same way—etched in tiny letters on her skin.
You still remember everything—frame by frame, down to the last details. On screen, it’s implied. In your mind, it canonically happened. She took her shirt off, exposing herself and the scars of battle, and you were gonna go there. In your characters’ supposed words, ‘Clean’’ in your own unique way.
It was ultimately never shot. Bare minimum of fanservice and completely unnecessary, the director said. 
The tattoo sticks out, not only because of how it's deeply embedded on her otherwise pristine, lithe figure, but also because it represents the last 18 months of your career.
During this period, there are a lot of things that you’ve regret—and will regret. The fact you’ve kept contact with her during filming at a minimum, keeping your interactions strictly between takes and creating a negative air around you in her eyes. The fact it took you so long to exchange numbers, only getting it done during the press tour. The fact that you never return her messages when she constantly reaches out to you, whether through text or on your Instagram. The fact you haven’t thanked her enough times during your acceptance speeches, even when you mention her name in almost every other sentence. If there’s anything you want to admit, it’s that Hyewon is everything.
Most importantly, the fact that you fucking love her, to the point where you’d yearn moments when you’re not beside her—and you still lack the will to confess to her. Even right now. When she’s right at your fingertips.
Perhaps she knows this. The signs were there all along. How she often posts your red carpet photos together and tags you in them. How she also mentions you as much during her acceptance speeches and credits you as a reason for her improvements in acting, even referencing specific advice you’ve given her. The biggest hint, however, are the dresses she’s been wearing to these galas, most evident being tonight. Simple all black, tailor made for her frame, showing off her assets for flaunting to the cameras. 
Earlier, she led you to an empty part of the theater to say something in private. “I wore this just for you,” she said—and from that point, you had to get her alone, whatever it takes.
Really, Hyewon has no intention to leave tonight. She’s just waiting for those magic words. There’s no other logical reason for her to be here, other than for you.
She might as well be holding up a huge signpost with all her requests written in capital letters. 
“If you’re not gonna do anything,” she says, tone casual, slipping one strap of her dress down her shoulder, the one half of the fabric dropping a fair amount. “Then I might as well do it myself. I was hoping you’d take this off me—”
“Stop.” 
You grab her other hand, close to touching the other strap, the dress more than ready to fall down. She raises her eyebrows in amusement. Afterward, she puts the seized hand down, convincing you to release the grip. 
Another win for Hyewon. You’ve lost count as to how many times she’s been messing with you throughout awards season. Probably in the hundreds. Thousands if you count the interviews and little jabs during her speeches. Every mention of your name is an immediate sign of trouble. You can sense she’s enjoying every single moment, relishing the remaining time you have left. Meanwhile, it’s clear on your face that you’re stressed. 
But for what?
“If it hasn’t gotten through your thick skull, then I have no choice but to explain it.” Hyewon climbs atop the bathroom sink, strong enough to lift herself off the ground. She pours the glass with new wine; it’s not meant for you. Her attitude flips instantaneously like a switch, composed and readying herself as if it were another photoshoot. 
Taking a sip of the drink, she pours the rest all over her dress. It serves no purpose anymore. it’s undeniable that she knows what she’s doing. That elegant yet cocky smile is permanently seared into your brain. Someone this haughty shouldn’t be this beautiful and seductive. “You can stand there and waste the night away, or you can do something about it. All up to you.”
You can only sigh. Whether out of wistfulness or annoyance is up for interpretation. You can add taking her back to your hotel room and taking this role in your ever growing list of regrets. When it’s all said and done, it’ll definitely be as long as the career documentary they’ll make about you in 50 years.
What more do you have to lose? 
This will all be behind you soon enough.
You finally stop giving her the cold shoulder. “God, I really wish you weren’t such a tease,” you remark, pulling on the dress strap she previously slid down. “Because otherwise, it would have been so much easier.”
Hyewon seems to have taken your words seriously, because she suddenly kisses you—as in, relentlessly smothers you. Her arms wrap around your neck, slowly pulling you close into an embrace. She smells of alcohol and perfume. An unusual concoction that you can drown yourself in.
“Only if you say the magic word,” she says, gently laughing between kisses. The lower half of your face is full of pale lipstick marks. It was foolish to think she had turned a new leaf, knowing how intentional Hyewon can be with everything.
You’ve really got no other choice.
“I love you,” you confess, but in the smallest audible voice imaginable—hiding that reluctance behind your tone. 
Hyewon pulls herself back, smiling toothily at you, borderline snorting. Her expressions convey the idea that you told her a joke, which it may as well be. 
“That’s it? Doesn’t sound like someone who loves me,” she remarks, tone evidently disparaging.
“Fuck me.” The groan comes out instinctively, as if this wasn’t your first time getting burned like this. Your head is raised to the ceiling, asking the gods for an out.
“That’s my line,” she spouts, her response almost as instantaneous. Wit comes naturally to Hyewon. The countless viewers and interviewers who’ve laughed can speak on her behalf.
“You’re gonna turn everything I say into a joke, are you?” you ask, knowing you’ve willingly fallen for the easiest bait in the entire world.
“You’re gonna turn everything I say into a joke, are you?” she repeats, mockingly imitating your voice, much to your utter chagrin. This isn’t part of some romcom or a sketch. This is real. Everything comes back around to Hyewon. She laughs—basks in your suffering.
It’s the kind of trait that would leave you second guessing whether you really love her or not. As it turns out, the public loves celebrities with a playful sense of humor. Not even you are innocent—you’ve been caught red-handed on camera a few times. Hyewon doesn’t need to reaffirm herself.
But she would love to hear it straight from the source.
“Say it. Say it.” Hyewon is urging you—demanding you—as if it were a matter of life or death. Her hands are everywhere, gripping you by the cheek and the throat like her prized possessions, threatening to choke the life out of you. 
Truthfully, this was coming the moment she stepped through those doors for the first table read. Hyewon’s gravity is inescapable.
“Love you—Hyem, please—” 
Struggling to push back against her hold, you can tell that she’s taking pleasure in every moment she has you like this: wrapped around her finger, so whipped over her that it’s alarming. There’s little use in trying to be coy or subtle. If she wanted you to go down to the afterparty in nothing but your boxers, you’d fold in a heartbeat. She’s the kind of girl you’d happily end up in a scandal with, someone you’d throw your career away in exchange for one timeless night, against the advice of everyone who knows better.
She knows this too. Look at the coy grin spreading on her face. A smile perfect for the front cover of any magazine or commercial. It’s the perfect facade for the attitude hiding beneath.
“I love you Hyem,” you repeat, showing a bit more desperation and sincerity this time. You’re breathing against her neck, the idea of pressing your lips against her skin a dire need. It’s unfortunate you can’t make it look like an accident—as is the idea of your bodies sinking down on the bathroom countertop. “For the longest time, I wanted you, but—”
Only now do you come to the simplest realization: there are no accidents.
Normally, you should feel some shame for being this oblivious. How a girl like Hyewon is giving out all these hints, to the point where she might as well be spreading her legs wide and pointing down at her cunt with a colorful sign. Hell, a thigh is peeking through her dress, pressing on your leg right now. If there’s one thing you’ve learned about working with other actors, it’s that chemistry comes naturally—it can’t be taught.
And your bodies are doing exactly that. The friction between you can’t be any more tense.
“Then show me.” She sighs against your ear, pulling on the topmost button of your suit, pushing down the matching coat. Her leg extends around your limb, goading you to pull away, even though leaving the pretty sight right in front of you is the last thing on your mind. 
You can only breathe. Slow. Hesitant. There's not a lot of hours left, and you’re wasting more by taking your sweet time—resting your gaze on her pale shoulder, admiring all the little details. In essence, you’re doing the complete opposite of what Hyewon wants. She’s showing a little frustration, proving how much better of an actress she is than you. Imagine being in her shoes, beckoning to someone astronomically unaware for months. So much energy and effort could have been saved if she chose to leave you out to dry. If you weren’t so preoccupied with thoughts of her, the many ways this little scene can go, you’d be wondering why she’s this persistent. 
Maybe you’re just as important of a character in her story too, or you’re both stubborn in your own ways. Perhaps both.
None of that is your concern right now. You’re cupping Hyewon’s face, kissing her, nibbling down on her creamy skin, reaching up to her lips by the way of her neck, pulling on the strap of her dress little by little. In response, she’s whispering sweet nothings into your ear, removing your dress shirt one button at a time. It feels like you’re going through the motions, acting under the words of an intimacy coordinator and a director. Slowly but surely, it’s all coming together, until—
“Stop.” 
You pull back, noticing your shirt is nearly undone as you look past her and at the mirror. Both dress straps are halfway down her arms, the fabric a mess, waiting to be swept away. 
You raise an eyebrow, puzzled. “What’s up?” 
Hyewon tilts her head at an angle, unsatisfied. She’s staring at you intently, taking a moment to analyze you like you’re a problem to solve—which you are—before coming to a rather alarming conclusion. “You don’t seem like you want me that bad.”
The remark doesn’t register in your brain. “What do you mean—”
She yanks you forward for a deep kiss, cutting you off. Reciprocating her passion comes naturally—and so does everything else. The movement of your hands, taking lease of her back, tearing through the fabric of her dress, coming back to her cheeks, until you stop feeling cloth and register more flesh. Feeling her skin becomes your new addiction, something you can’t get enough of. 
Watching her other movies—for research purposes—you knew she was well endowed, even when they were not on full display.  Some of her previous gala dresses truly put a spotlight on her cleavage. Part of you thought it was editing trickery, a perfectly taken photo at the right time, or a bra doing the heavy lifting. All three even. But holding them now, with nothing in between, you simply couldn’t believe how well they’ve been hidden from you. 
Her tits fold, go flush, and her nipples stiffen at your touch. They feel so right—as if they were handmade for you.
“God, Hyem—” you breathe out, savoring the sensation of her mounds in your clasp, unwilling to let go. Her taut nipples jerk with every run of your palms. If only you could rest your head between them, but your current position won’t allow you. 
“They feel so good right?” Hyewon moans in response, shedding your unbuttoned shirt off your body and tossing it to the floor, taking lease of your muscles and back. Her dress bunches up around her waist, practically collapsing when she decides to get up from the sink. Although an expected outcome, you’re both surprised that you’ve managed to get each other’s clothes off.
And you’re only getting started.
Pushing you away, Hyewon meets you at your level. Gravity does the rest. She stands before you in nothing but heels. What a mental image to remember her after tonight. She leaves you frozen and trembling, jaw agape, your eyes in a daze, unable to find a place to settle your fleeting gaze on—until she rests her hands around your shoulders. You’re caught up in your own disbelief to meet her lovely gaze and that rather sweet smile, quite the difference from her bare state.
She lifts up a leg, pushing herself onto you for another passionate kiss. Taking advantage, her legs eventually wrap around your waist, bearing all her weight on your grasp. Despite her surprise attack, she’s feathery enough to carry around. It certainly helps that she’s not the heaviest girl you’ve lifted before; you have some experience—mostly unpleasant and usually backbreaking. Still, you’ll treat her like some delicate object that crumbles at the slightest touch. Something—or someone—you can’t ruin, or else you’d be ruined too.
You both end up in the living room, deeply engrossed in a fiery passion that’s too hot for cameras. Lifting her high, your lips find their way to her chest, pressing them in the place where they rightfully belong. Hyewon is stubborn, pushing your head further up to meet your lips in a direct, frantic kiss. Back and forth, you take turns between her tits and her lips, unintentionally slamming her against a wall, eliciting a few yelps out of her. 
It doesn’t bother you both in the slightest. You hold her there, kissing down her abdomen and ribs, coming to the tiny inked part of her figure. The same tattoo that’s been ingrained in your head since you first saw them.
You mutter the very words against her skin. 
“If not now, then when.”
They’ve never been so relevant till right now. You softly kiss the ink, silently thanking her for saving you from a lifetime’s worth of regret.
Hyewon winces, throws her head back, moans up to the ceiling. Her nails brush through your hair, then claw at your nape as you remain fixated on her tattooed rib. She deserves to be adored and worshiped.
“Look at me babe,” she murmurs, gently tilting you up, faint at your touch. Against your desires, you follow. “Put me down. You know why I’m here.”
You oblige without a second thought—and you’re both on a level playing field again.
Still, you can’t help but kiss her right after. She reciprocates the favor. You’re a perfect match. Even as you’re making out, you’re thinking of ways to get messy and get the jump on her while she’s preoccupied. 
It ends up being your biggest mistake.
Both of you wrestle for control over the other, a scuffle that ends up knocking down a few appliances and tableware. The sound of glass shattering rips through the hotel room floor louder than your collective moans ever will. For someone with a lithe figure, Hyewon proves to be much stronger than you were led to believe. It shows when you try to push her onto another table; you both end up crashing to the floor seconds later. 
From there, it’s whoever is the first to get up, and you knew it was all over from there.
Hyewon leads you into the sole bedroom, shoving you onto the mattress. Unrelenting, she slams onto you right after, pinning you down with her bare hands. Surprising her with your own strength, you reach for her raven locks through her ironclad grip of your wrists. Your lips continue to crash like waves against rocks, neither of you willing to back down. There’s a clear disparity between you: she wants you more.
To further prove her point, she presses her palms down on your chest, sitting over you upright, straddled on your lap. She’s never looked better.
Making quick work of your trousers, your cock is freed from its confines, only to be immediately caught up in Hyewon’s hand. Her grip spreads through your groin, turning breathing into an absolute nightmare. The one fear that’s been haunting your mind these last few months, finally realized. 
And it’s staring you down with an innocent yet wicked smile.
“You have no idea how long I wanted this,” she remarks, her sultry voice sending shivers down your spine. Arching down, she presses her tongue forward on your throbbing tip. Combined with the pressure she’s building with her hand, holes puncture through your lungs. And right on command, you’re leaking. She’s lapping your cock in circles, slow and agonizing, taking every little drop of precum seeping. You can only tremble beneath her, utterly defenseless. “Remembering when I was tapping your foot with my heel earlier tonight?”
She leaves you in such a dizzying spiral that you can’t even look directly at her, let alone formulate a reply. Meanwhile, her eyes remain fixed on you, doe-eyed with innocence, yet her actions are cruel. Breathing proves to be a struggle, let alone returning with a response. “What about it?”
“I wanted you to follow me to the bathroom. And I wanted you to fuck me in there.”
Honest to God, that was not the first thought on your mind. If anything, the presence of many proved to be the ideal shield in keeping yourself away from Hyewon. Losing best actor was the greatest blessing in disguise, as it meant you didn’t have to look straight into her magnetic eyes during your theoretical speech and make an embarrassment of yourself in front of hundreds in attendance, and millions watching on television. 
Now that you’re in bed with no way to escape, you can only accept your fate.
“I’m not the best at reading the room,” you comment, sheepishly shaking your head.
“Not surprising, honestly,” she says, rewarding your candor with a kiss—on your tip. Then another. More heartwarming than arousing, if anything. “Anyone ever told you that you’re kind of a dork?”
“Not the first time I’ve heard it from a girl,” you say, in an attempt to show some wit, only to be met with a stiff grip on your cock. “Ah—fuck—”
A bit more force and Hyewon could break you in half with her mere hand alone. She’s cold, calculating, and cruel. Her expression seems apathetic, yet deep down, you can tell she’s having so much fun toying and teasing you, stealing what little semblance of willpower you have. And to think she’s this demure, sometimes funny celebrity with a certain image that’s universally admired by many. 
Behind that gaze, she’s thinking of more ways to further ruin you.
“I don’t think a dork like you has been with other girls,” she remarks, leaning forward to tease a kiss, only to leave you dry. “But looking at this cock—”
She stops to admire your shaft once more. Ultimately, she can’t help herself. She has to give your tip another ceremonious flick with her parched tongue in appreciation. Two, actually. If she doesn’t stop, you’ll soon be deep in her throat, and you know she’s not letting you go. Thankfully, she finally regains sight of what she wants in the first place.
Lifting herself ever so slightly, Hyewon takes a deep breath—then slowly melts into you. 
It’s a car crash you can’t look away from. It’s inevitable, but you’re completely powerless to stop her. You can only groan in agony as your bodies intertwine, creating a union that only she can break. Inch by inch, you helplessly watch as Hyewon slowly takes you into her suffocating heat. The sensation is unlike anything you’ve ever felt before: vicious, intense, and painful. 
It doesn’t help that she’s taking her sweet time, keeping you on edge for what may as well be an eternity, bracing for the certain explosion she’s going to leave in her wake. 
“Oh—fuck—it’s so perfect,” Hyewon throws her head back, her jaw dropping slow, every word delivered in a near-inaudible sigh. Eventually, she buries herself in you deep to the hilt—and she keens. “That—that’s it—that’s the fucking spot—”
Your hands cling to her waist, your maw similarly agape, breathing tensely as the pleasure slowly courses through your muscles. “God—you’re fucking tight—”
She hums in return, satisfied by your response, before losing herself in the sensation of your cock impaling her—and she begins to move.
As you fight the urge to cum right then and there, Hyewon slowly lifts herself off your lap, your cock reappearing with a fresh coat of her drenched pussy, before sinking back down. She rips the breath right from your lungs, while you’re forced to shut your eyes. Anything to keep your brain firing as the pleasure rushing throughout your body sends you into overdrive. 
You’re an outlet of ecstasy, a conduit for her to loosen all her pent-up frustration and lust. Her palms grip to your thighs, keeping you in place—as if you’re in any condition to move anywhere except for her whim. She’s crashing into you at a punishing pace as a result of keeping yourself away for so long. And she’s being open about it too: “Why did it take us so long—ugh—”
You can only moan back. Truthfully, you’re wondering the same thing too. 
As your eyes alternate between wide open and completely shut, you catch glimpses of Hyewon using every inch of you to fill her wanton pussy with cock. When she’s not cursing or screaming your name, her moans fill your ears with sweet, sultry music. It’s a sound not of her high class image. She’s riding you like it’s life or death, like her heart will stop beating if her cunt isn’t being stretched out.
With every bounce, so do her breasts. Up and down, settling into a rhythm, forming a hypnotic motion that your eyes get lost in. Your obsession reaches a point to where the movement of her tits stirs you on, reigniting your tired muscles. You can’t lie there and be a helpless viewer any longer.
And so, you meet Hyewon halfway, matching the grind of her hips with your thrust at the apex, setting her alight. This particular stroke. The hot sensation. It utterly shatters her. Her voice cracks. She trembles violently, giving you breathing room to sit upward and lean close to her chest. 
So while she staggers back, overwhelmed by your cock spearing her cunt, you go down on her succulent breasts, squishing your face between them. Despite having Hyewon’s body all to yourself, the friction between your bodies creates this wracking storm that drives you insane. It isn’t enough that you’re feasting on her tits, that her boobs are bouncing so hard it’s downright pornographic, and that she’s screaming her heart out in response to each stroke. This will be headline news tomorrow. Yet, none of that is your concern. You have to pour everything into her. It’s now or never.
“Fuck yes—oh fuck—fucking take me—fuck—” Hyewon’s riding your cock, forcing all the air out your lungs, rendering you speechless. Doesn’t matter, you’re drowning in her slick and her tits, pounding away with twice the effort. She’s swearing through her tongue like she’s a cop in a crime picture, biting down on her lip in a flimsy attempt to restrain herself, but anyone with a good ear nearby could have easily identified her voice through the four walls of this hotel room. Knowing her, it’s intentional. She’s determined to put you through a world of trouble, leaving you with no other choice but to shut her up.
And you’re going to do just that.
You end up yanking her by the waist as your bodies repeatedly collide with each other. Each impact the equivalent of a cosmic explosion, the aftermath echoing through the room. The sound of skin slapping skin fills your ears louder than what it seems in the movies. Sex with Hyewon is much, much better than in your fantasies. Here’s another thing that can’t be found on camera: her soft pleas begging you to keep going, interlaced between harsh whines and airy moans that can’t be faked.
“God, I’m gonna fucking cum, Hyewon.” There you go, your silly side showing at such a serious moment. Everyone knows you don’t proclaim your impending climax. Rookie mistake. You’re not shooting a porno, but you might as well be with how hard you’re fucking her. She can’t help but cackle even as you relentlessly pound into her cunt. What should be a moment of weakness immediately gets brushed aside as you hold her when she slams down, and you finally fall apart.
Impaling your cock hilt deep inside Hyewon, you’re digging your palms deep into her soft flesh, unwilling to let go. She rests her head beside yours as you blast her with thick, warm cum. Her prolonged, saccharine-sounding moan is nothing compared to the loaded groan that ripples through the room. The supplication she makes, demanding you to fill her with every little drop goes through deaf ears. Your dick seems to have heard it loud and clear, though. The amount you’re filling her is enough to rip through her body violently too. She follows with her own peak afterwards, hitting a previously unheard octave higher, your bodies finally melting into one. 
Just like that, she’s clinging to you like you’re her personal life support, completely drained of all her strength. 
The ecstasy lasts for a brief moment. The fall off happens too soon for your liking. Like her, you’re sapped of energy and you fall down to earth with Hyewon in your arms. The end comes—not with grandiose drama or spectacle, but by a calm, uneventful stir.
You should be done at this point. It’s been a long day. You’ve been up as early as sunrise, spent hours behind makeup and measuring tape for a suit you won’t wear more than once. Smiling comes natural, if not downright fake; in front of the cameras, on the red carpet, on screen, and even during the afterparties. Every time you step out in public, there’s an image, a reputation to uphold. You’ve done this a dozen times in the past few months alone, bearing a lifetime’s worth of and it never gets more comfortable or easier. It’s a miracle you haven’t cracked or had a public breakdown, even though your mind is calling for it.
And yet, all that labor and agony is worth it for what you have now. The awards, the recognition, the adoration—but most especially the girl. What are you now, taken out of a story. One that feels all too familiar and done to death, but it never grows old or tired. 
By all accounts, it should be a happy ending. 
Except you’re not done. You’re not satisfied, and so is Hyewon. Even though she’s settling down in your embrace, resting her head against your heartbeats, mumbling these sweet nothings about how much you’ve ruined her and fucked her to shreds, she’s quietly begging for more. It isn’t about keeping a sanctimonious image anymore; it’s about how far you’ll push her and use her. Your throbbing cock buried inside her cunt says it too.
If there’s anything you’ve learned about acting, it’s that one take isn’t enough.
Like a damsel in distress, you scoop Hyewon into your arms. Through what you might consider a second wind, you carry her into the bathroom again on wobbly legs, stepping into the shower, showing that you’re ready to take your relationship a step further. You’ll hash out the details in the morning—if she hasn’t left by then.
The sound of running water serves as background for the airy, lewd noises that quickly fill the shower. 
Hyewon feels incredibly soft to touch. Pliable in your grasp, like a doll to bend, twist, and use at your whim. You’re squeezing her flesh, fondling her mounds tightly till you’re seeing red everywhere. Her tits, her shapely ass, and everything in between. Kissing down her body, giving every little part its much needed attention. You’ve fucked her to pieces, yes, but she’s still housing a divine figure that deserves the same level of praise. 
With two fingers stroking at her cunt, she’s keening, her head tilted up to meet the relentless downpour rushing down over your bodies. Her voice is in tatters after an hour of tireless screaming, in addition to all the mindless chatter from earlier tonight. Part of you wishes to have taken up her offer. Something this good shouldn’t be kept secret, but you’re more than selfish enough to keep Hyewon all to yourself. 
Your raging impulse gets the better of you, and you slap her tits from behind. She yelps a cry of pain and pleasure. The recoil and sound activates something in your brain like a sleeper agent. You do it a second time, then a third. You stop counting after, indulging yourself in the satisfying noise of her mounds smacked over and over, every squeal, every strike equally as gratifying as your cock slamming into her pussy. She’s clinging to the walls as a respite, her body shuddering vigorously, but you don’t give her a moment to breathe. It’s what she would have wanted: to be used and taken like a ragdoll.
Hyewon screams again when you swing her around, lifting one leg around your waist, and slam your cock inside her. No pleasantries, no talking through the process—only a desire to fuck. Burying your face against her neck, growling into her skin like a ravenous beast, you hammer away without care for neither your comfort nor hers. You’re counting the hours, minutes, seconds before she disappears from your life, and you’re gonna make sure that years from now, she remembers this night in particular.
You’re too engrossed to see her expressions twist in impossible ways that average humans can make. But that’s the point: Hyewon is no ordinary person. She’s one actress, something that can be found in others who are more talented and have more resounding qualities, but more than that, to you, she’s everything. The clench of her cunt on your cock continues to invigorate you and push you further. With every thrust, she jumps and sends aftershocks coursing through your veins. God, you love how incredibly well she fucking takes it, and the slightest tilt of her lips struggling to form a grin reinforce this. You’ve got nothing else to say, really; you easily lose yourself in your own lust, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.
It doesn’t take too long before you feel it again. The end. It’s approaching faster than you can react. You knew it wasn’t going to be a drawn out affair, but you’re so desperate to reach that high, no matter how brief it may be. It was too good to pass up, and you’re beyond waiting a second more.
You’d give everything up for even a single minute longer, but the period of bargaining has long passed you by.
“Gonna cum again—fuck—” is all you can muster, your first words after a long while. Her pussy feels so good to form coherent words. Lust has utterly consumed your brain more than anything. The entire time, Hyewon’s mewling, keening in every direction, trying to find purchase on the walls or the shower door, only to fall a few inches short. She ends up coming back to you, hanging on for dear life. You’ve never let up, terrified that she’ll magically disappear into nothing at any second. 
Acting fast, as if you’ve got a ticking bomb in hand, you draw your cock out, coated in a thick sheen of your own cum and hers, pumping yourself with a few strokes of your hand until you finally explode. The shower washes down the milky white blot you’re unloading on her skin, never leaving a permanent mark. It does, however, bring you back to the place that began your undoing.
The tattoo on her rib. 
Water wipes the cum blocking the view. Despite those same five words occupying your mind for the last few hours, it still hits like a fresh revelation. You hear her voice repeating them inside your head as you come to your senses, your lust being satiated—for now. Even when Hyewon is completely broken before you, reduced to a quiet pile of flesh. One hand on the surrounding wall, the other in limbo, her leg still coiled around your waist, forcing oxygen into her tired lungs wherever she can. 
With the ‘quick’ shower done, and after hardly any cleaning was made, you carry her back to the bedroom. 
You don’t even make it past the living room before your legs finally give up. You end up crashing onto the floor together before you both finally call it a night.
—————
“This is your fault you know,” says Hyewon, drawing circles on your chest, over your calm heartbeats. “I’m supposed to be in London tomorrow for my table read. And yet I’m still here. My flight was five hours ago by the way.”
It’s already high noon when you finally regain consciousness, your head still spinning despite not taking more than one alcoholic drink the night before. Hyewon’s doing marginally better, having woken up 30 minutes earlier. No wonder it feels so hot; her body is snuggled up on you, your limbs tangled. Despite the urgency she’s speaking about, she doesn’t seem to be interested in moving any time soon.
At least you’re awake and sensible enough to fire back. “Who’s fault is that? I wasn’t the one inviting you to come over and have you fucked senseless.”
She chuckles into your skin, little ripples forming where her lips are gently pressed. “And I wasn’t the one who spent the last 18 months saying we’re just friends.”
You’re already lying flat on the floor, but the rebuttal only makes you want to get up only to fall back down. So you settle with an expressive sigh. 
Hyewon laughs. It’s what won over millions, including you. You’re taken back to that fateful day you first met. Right then and there, you knew there’d be no one else like her. If given an opportunity to go back and change a few things here and there or, you’d do it over again, mistakes included. Last night was worth all the waiting and teasing. 
“So—about that show,” you lean up, pushing her closer to your face, “What was it again? Something about you being a nymphomaniac? Delete what?”
“You mean Delete This? Let’s not.” 
Mention of the premise alone is enough to set her gummy cheeks on fire. For someone whose career has been built up on mostly more general audience friendly programming, leading a sexual soap opera is quite the jump.  
She buries her head on your neck, embarrassed, feeling guilty. “Yeah. I mean, last night was—different, you know? I’ve shown my tits and body already, but I’ve never had sex—on screen before.”
You should have known. She needed a reason to get in your pants without your working relationship only centering around your bodies. And those were clearly stand-ins based on how her face is never shown during her older scenes.
“Jesus, Hyem. If you wanted to have sex, you could have asked anytime. You have no idea how annoyed I was when they scrapped our scene last minute. It was only you taking off your shirt too.”
“On the bright side, we didn’t have an intimacy director getting in the way, right?”
She does have a point. Still, your personal cold war didn’t need to last 18 months before either of you would make the first move.
But with all that tension a thing of the past, the chains are unfettered. Now both of you have the ability to take this little secret in any direction you desire. You could simply be a workplace couple; it’s been the story of your year so far. Or you could take things a step further. The possibilities are truly endless.
Hyewon’s cheeky grin slowly reforms, her hand snaking up to cup your cheek. “Shame we only had one night. I could spend the rest of the day here, butâ€”ïżœïżœ she huffs, “I’m running late. Too bad I won’t get to have this cock for a long, long time.”
You lift an amused eyebrow, barely able to keep your new cockiness from showing. “Will you, though?”
She’s taken completely by surprise. “What do you mean?”
“Check your phone.”
After rising to her feet, Hyewon walks over to the console table where her purse is set. Fishing her phone from the handbag, she scrolls through the apps, her attention di–vided between the screen and you on the floor, finally getting up as well. 
Her stare then lingers on the phone, as if whatever headline of the day has caught her attention. 
Next thing you know, she’s grabbing you by the chest, dragging you back to the bedroom before shoving you back onto the mattress—right where you belong. Pinning you down and dead to rights, Hyewon mounts herself on your lap, your cock pressed against her aching core, ready to receive a fresh beating.
Some jokes can go a little too far.
“You fucking asshole. You mean that—”
“Yep.”
“And it’s not—”
“It’s not.”
You can feel her hips slowly grinding against yours. You’re gonna love—and hate—the next 18 months with Hyewon.
“I’m going to kill you. And I mean: kill you.”
“No better way to go out.”
—————
(A/N: Thank you for the commission! That Hyewon dress is so ripe for material, and I had to incorporate her tattoos into it somehow. She doesn't show them quite often—heck, she hasn't publicly addressed them even once, I believe. That little nod at the end is for everyone still waiting for Delete this to return. At this point, a reimagining or remake must happen first before the next actual episode because good God my writing back then versus now is night & day. Even comparing the last update from 2022(?) to today is also radically different in style. I'm still interested in reviving it; it's just a matter of when, not if. Thank you for reading!)
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whatswrongwithblue · 3 days ago
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As a queer woman in a red state, I needed to see this today. I still love my state. This is my home. Where I was raised, where I went to school, where my wife and I were married, where I work, where we bought our house, where we started our little farm, where my baby will be born, where my friends are. Where my entire communkty and safety net is. I'm so happy here. I love my life here.
Please stop saying "fuck red states."
My dad is one of the most die hard Republicans I know. He voted for Trump and yes, it breaks my heart. It makes me sick and at time makes me feel unloved. And I have to remember this is the man who basically took a bow of silence about me coming out for the first year. THAT man cried happy tears and gave the most moving speech at my wedding. He adores my wife and calls her is daughter now. THAT man's beliefs have changed in what for him is a hugely significant way. It's not enough YET but he reminds me that a lot of people who voted for Trump DO care, they just don't get it. Unfortunately we'll all learn the hard way now but it also means there are allies within the enemy, they just don't know it yet.
Please stop saying "fuck red states."
My in-laws have been so die hard Republican their entire lives and voted for Harris this year. Willing to get into loud family arguments and strain family relations over it. It's a change I had given up hoping to see and yet, it finally happened this year.
Please stop saying "fuck red states."
My tiny town is largely made up of migrant workers. Every business here is bilingual. Including the grocery stores, post office, and city hall. This town wouldn't exist without migrant workers. No one knows more about how much our farming communities NEED migrant workers more than the tiny farm towns in red states. I promise you, in my state, it's the Republicans in the cities here that are pushing for mass deportation, not the farmers.
Please stop saying "fuck red states."
I voted for one republican this year. Yep. An Asian American woman who grew up on a potato farm, married into the family of another potato farmer, ran on a campaign to halt rent inflation, allocate more state funding to education and foster care, and supported controversial decisions in the past to protect the environment. She was an incumbent and she won. She's playing the long game of knowing which party she can win running under in her home state and she's making a damn big difference in her little district.
Please stop saying "fuck red states."
There are young queer closeted kids here. I was one of them. I was voting and protesting for gay rights before there were any and I'll fucking do it again if I have to. Because over 1/4 people here DID vote for Harris and every single one of us have to stay and fight and be visible for the next generation of scared closeted queer kids because if we all left for blue states, who would be left to fight for them?
Please stop saying "fuck you" to the people I love and the home I've built. The future I see slowly building here can still happen. I still have hope. But if those fighting the good fight in red states give up now, if they say too say "fuck red states," then we really will have lost that future.
I love you everyone in red states right now.
I love you everyone who has family that is/will celebrate a Trump victory in your state.
I love you everyone surrounded by loved ones actively voting against your rights.
If you voted, you for Kamala, you did everything you could and you should be proud.
All of your frustration and anger is justified, understandable, and fair.
I’m sending you all love and peace.
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janeyseymour · 1 day ago
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A Piece Of Paper
Summary: You and Melissa have been dating for a while. Marriage isn't necessarily the plan. Who needs a silly piece of paper to solidify the relationship anyway?
WC: ~4.2k
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After dating Melissa Schemmenti, second grade teacher at Willard R. Abbott Elementary School, for about a year, the two of you decide to finally jump the gun and move in together. It took a bit of convincing on your end, but eventually, she welcomed the company and companionship that you brought with you. Living together didn’t mean you were married after all. 
You’ve been living together for two years now, dating for three. It’s a nice situation to be in. Neither of you are particularly ready to get married, each of you for your respective reasons. The topic had come up when you moved in, and you came to an agreement that you were more than satisfied just being partners
 life partners. The weekday routine of waking up together, occasionally showering together before getting on with your days, breakfast, heading to work, coming home to your person, and then relaxing before heading to bed and starting the cycle all over again is warm enough. But your weekends are always slow, steady, full of comfort and contentedness to do everything or nothing at all. This relationship that you have with Melissa is all you’ll ever need in life- married or not.
It’s a day where you have off and your girlfriend conveniently has a professional development day that, while you are still more than content with your lifestyle how it is, Melissa’s thoughts and views begin to change. 
Because Ava doesn’t have anything against you (you would even venture to say the principal of your girlfriend’s school likes you), you’re able to enter the school during lunch hours and share a meal with your girlfriend and her coworkers. They all adore you, but it does confuse them how someone like you could be dating someone like the redheaded woman. You’re calm and level-headed, and they’ve seen Melissa in her fits of rage. Regardless, they support your relationship wholeheartedly and eagerly.
“So,” Jacob hums loudly as he practically stares down his two coworkers that he’s closest to. “Does anybody have any big news to share with the group?”
You just roll your eyes in good nature at the secondary education teacher. He’s always so nosey, but he means well. You steal another bite of your girlfriend’s lunch, despite the fact that you have the exact same dish in front of you.
Janine and Gregory each share a look, before the shorter woman breaks out into a grin. “We actually do have some news
 Thank you, Jacob.”
Jacob looks quite proud of himself, and it’s immediately clear to the rest of the room that this was an orchestrated act.
“So, Janine and I were talking last night, and
” Gregory nudges his girlfriend.
Janine holds up her left hand, and there’s a sparkling ring sitting on her ring finger. “We’re engaged! We’re getting married!”
Immediately, the group of teachers erupts into cheers, shouting their congratulations. It’s all a bit hectic for a few minutes as everyone tries to get a glimpse at the rock before it dies down.
“Damn, Eddie,” Ava looks him up and down once she’s seen the ring. “If I had known this is what I could’ve gotten, I woulda flirted with you way harder than I did.”
“And I would have happily reported you to HR,” Gregory replies with a satisfied smirk. “But thank you. I did what I could.”
“As you already know,” the second grade teacher smiles and claps her hands together. “Abbott is family to us, so of course you’re all invited to the wedding. We haven’t set a date yet, but we’re thinking sometime next year?”
“We’ll all be there, sweetheart,” Barbara puts in warmly. “We’re all very happy for the both of you. What a wonderful step the two of you are taking.”
You don’t think you’ve ever seen Janine so excited, and that woman is always practically bouncing off of the walls with energy.
But then the naive and in love woman looks to you and Melissa. “When do you think the two of you will be getting married?”
“This is your day,” you tell her gently. “Let’s keep the attention on you.”
“But I’m curious!” Janine argues. “I mean
 I would love to have a double Abbott wedd-”
“Yeah, no, kid,” Melissa cuts in. “I love ya, don’t get me wrong, but I would rather die than have a double weddin’.”
“Besides,” you say as you lay a gentle hand on your girlfriend’s knee. “We don’t really see a need to get married. We live together, we’re happy together, and we don’t necessarily see the need to have a piece of paper solidify our relationship. But we are truly so happy that the two of you have decided to tie the knot.”
The rest of lunch is buzzing with questions about the engagement and talks of what Janine has already mentally planned for what she and Jacob are describing as ‘the wedding of the century’. Gregory just looks at his fiancee with a love in his eyes that you recognize as the way that Melissa looks at you. Every once in a while, he will interject his opinion though because some of Janine’s plans are a bit over the top.
“Hun, we can’t afford that,” the man says quite a few times. “Not on our teacher salaries.”
His objections don’t deter her in the slightest. She just smiles at him and nods along, claiming she’ll find a lower budget option with the same amount of pizazz. You listen, quietly amused, while your girlfriend takes in the conversation around her. For once, she doesn’t offer up any sarcastic quips. You chalk it up to her not wanting to ruin the moment for Janine and Gregory, but what you don’t know is that Melissa is deep in thought about engagements and weddings, marriage. The way that you so casually explained that you probably would never be married struck a chord in the redhead. She almost sees it as a challenge now to get married.
After about fifteen more minutes of chatter, the teachers have to find their ways back to their classrooms for the rest of the day to prepare and go through the rest of their data while you have to find your way out of the school.
“I’ll see you at home?” you ask sweetly.
When your girlfriend doesn't quite respond, you set a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Honey? I’ll see you at home?”
Only then does Melissa seem to understand that you’re speaking directly to her. “Y-yeah. I’ll see you at home, mi amore.”
She kisses you warmly, and then you grab your purse and exit, calling goodbye to your girlfriend’s coworkers as you make your way out.
You’re lounging on the couch with your book in hand when Melissa comes into the house from work. She kicks off her shoes, and she’s practically straddling your lap before she even drops her bag on the floor next to you.
You kiss her back passionately before pulling away with a giggle and a rosy tint to your cheeks. “Oh!” you giggle out as she continues to chase your lips. “My love, not that I’m not enjoying this, but what did I do to deserve this greeting?”
She doesn’t answer, instead just kissing you with desire and hunger- she’s being greedy. You can’t do anything but give in to what she wants, but air quickly becomes a necessity.
Her eyes are blown wide with lust for you, but you know you have to get her to talk to you before you can do anything else. “Baby? What’s going on?”
“I’m just so damn in love with you,” she mumbles as she starts to graze your neck with her lips and teeth. 
That’s all you need to hear before you allow her to lower you to a laying position on the couch, throw your book haphazardly, and have her way with you.
It’s a bit later that your legs are still shaking just slightly, but you’re clean and your clothes are back on. Your girlfriend just nuzzles into your hold, humming as she cards her fingers through your hair gently.
“My girl,” she whispers as she dots a few sweet kisses to your head. “Mine.”
“That I am,” you chuckle softly, still in somewhat of a haze after the mind-blowing couch sex. “What’s got you acting like this?”
“Just a day,” Melissa tells you as she kisses you again on the lips. Then she sighs. “Can we just call for delivery? I’m exhausted, an’ I don’t feel like cooking.”
You don’t quite know if she’s exhausted from the professional development day, or if she’s exhausted from the effort she just put in to satisfy you, but you hum and nod your agreement.
“Chinese?”
“Chinese,” you agree.
As you’re waiting for the food to come, your girlfriend decides that she needs to shower. You lounge in the living room, feet tucked beneath your figure, when your phone begins to ring. It’s your mother. Of course it’s your mother. With a heavy sigh, you reach for the ringing device on the coffee table. 
“Hey, Ma,” you answer.
You can hear how delighted she is that picked up. “Hey, sweet girl. Just calling in to check up on you. It’s been a while since I’ve heard from you.”
“I called you yesterday,” you deadpan.
You can practically see your mother shrug into the phone. “And a lot could’ve happened in a day!”
You can’t help the laugh that comes tumbling out of your mouth before you begin to fill her in on your day. You tell her how you were off from work so you were able to sleep in, and then you went to Abbott for lunch with your girlfriend.
“Oh, and how is Mel?” your mother asks.
“She’s good,” you promise. “Tired after today, so she’s in the shower, but I’m sure she’d tell you hello if she were here.”
“Good. The two of you need to come up for dinner sometime soon. Your dad and I aren’t getting any younger, you know.”
“I’ll talk to her,” you promise. “Oh! You know what did happen at the school today?”
“What?” It’s clear that your mother is intrigued. She’s been to Abbott as a guest reader in your girlfriend’s class, and has therefore been privy to the redhead’s coworkers. 
Melissa exits the bedroom, wet hair still clinging to her pajamas when she hears you talking to who she can only assume is your mother on the phone. Usually, she would walk right into the room, calling out a greeting as she takes her place beside you. But something in her stops herself, and she listens to your words just out of eyeliner.
“You remember Lis talkin’ about her coworkers, Janine and Gregory?” At your mother’s hum, you continue. “They got engaged. Wedding next year.”
“Oh how wonderful for them. Let them know I said congratulations,” your mother smiles into the phone. “Hey, when can I expect the two of you to finally pull your heads out of your asses and get hitched already? I want grandkids, you know.”
“Ma,” you sigh and roll your eyes. “You know Lis and I aren’t really planning on getting married.”
“And why would that be?” your mother pries, despite the fact that she’s well aware of the reasoning. 
“Because,” you chuckle. “I’m in no rush, if at all. And Lis has done marriage and divorce before. She don’t want to get married again, and that’s more than okay with me. Besides, we live together. She’s practically my wife as is. Who says we need a silly little paper to tell us that we’re together forever?”
“All I’m sayin’ is, I want grandkids. And you could use the insurance from the school- yours is shit. You can only claim it if you’re married. And, God forbid anything happen to either of you
”
“Ma, we already have all of that sorted out,” you try to reason with your mom. “We’re in a place where we’re content. I wish you could be happy with how we’ve chosen to live our lives.”
“I am!” your mother protests. “You know I adore Melissa, but I want grandkids!”
“I can give you grandkids without being married, Ma. But don’t hold your breath. I’m in no rush to have kids, if I have any at all. And Lis is practically a mother to twenty five children as it is with her job.”
Something in your mother finally gets her to relent. “I suppose I’ll just have to move onto your sister.”
“Yeah,” you snort out. “You do that, Ma. Just don’t tell her I sent you her way.”
“Oh, you know I’ll be sure to tell you you sent me to her,” your mom teases you.
You roll your eyes. “How are you and Dad?”
Melissa sees this as a good opportunity to enter the room, with your mother telling you about her day and what she and your father got up to today.
“Ma?” she whispers. You nod, and during a brief pause, the redhead calls her greeting into the phone.
“Mel!” your mother grins into the phone. “How are you dear?”
“Just fine, Nel. Tell Rick I said hey too when you get a chance.”
“I will dear,” your mom promises. And then she’s off and telling you more about her day. She chatters on for a few minutes before the doorbell rings. It’s your food.
“Ma?” you interrupt her gently as she tells you about the chronicles of her canasta game. “I hate to go, but our food just got here, and I’m starving. I’ll call you soon, yeah?”
Melissa stands to answer the door as your mother reluctantly lets you go, but only after quite a few promises of calling her again soon- coming up for a visit.
The redhead is already sorting out your food from the bag when you’re finally able to end the phone call, and she looks to you with a smirk. “Just a catch up call?”
“Just a catch up call,” you groan. “Woman acts like she hasn’t talked to me in years when I called her yesterday. She says to tell Janine and Gregory congratulations by the way.”
Melissa nods and hands you your pair of chopsticks and food before grabbing her own. You gently drape your legs over her lap with a smile, and green eyes are rolled fondly.
“So, anything else happen once I left Abbott today?” you ask.
Your girlfriend huffs. “Yeah. Loads of bullshit, that’s what happened today.”
She launches into some story about Ava and the data analysis, how the way that they retained their reports was deplorable- a school to prison pipeline really. You can’t help but chuckle at the way she explains the details, loudly and with lots of emotion. Your eyes go soft as you remember just how in love you are with the woman in front of you. The way that she cares about her students and her employment so much is
 she goes above and beyond, really.
“Oi,” Melissa nudges you. “I’m over here talking about the school to prison pipeline, an’ you’re giving me lovesick puppy dog eyes. What the hell?”
You lean up and kiss her sesame chicken stuffed cheek gently. “I just love how passionate you are about your job and your kids. It’s really admirable. I wish I cared about my job that much.”
“You know what else I’m passionate about?” your girlfriend chuckles quietly and winks at you. Then she wiggles her eyebrows.
“Jesus, Lis. Always thinking about sex,” you roll your eyes, but a smirk is evident on your face.
“You’re sitting here in booty shorts and a sports bra with your legs draped over me, and I’m not supposed to be thinking about sex?” Melissa challenges.
“We had sex before the food got here. Eat your dinner,” you roll your eyes once again as you pick up another piece of broccoli with your chopsticks. 
The two of you finish you meals in relative silence as the television plays softly in the background, your girlfriend in her head and thoughts about what had been revealed earlier that day in the staff room, and then what she had overheard while you were on the phone with your mother. 
It’s not much later that the two of you are heading to bed, and Melissa just can’t keep her hands off of you- and not in that way. You know that you were joking about sex earlier, but you’re both so exhausted you don’t even know if you could manage right now without falling asleep. Her arms are just wrapped around your frame as you brush your teeth, as you comb your hair and take off your makeup. Her chin rests gently against your shoulder blade, and you feel a soft kiss being pressed to it. She doesn’t detangle herself from you even as you make your way into the bedroom. The only time that she lets you go is when you crawl into bed. Still, almost immediately once you’ve settled under the covers does she attach herself to your side again. Her head rests gently on your chest, red hair splayed out underneath of her.
“I love you,” Melissa whispers softly.
You press a warm kiss to her temple, muttering out a soft, “Love you too, Lis,” before you allow your eyes to flutter shut and sleep to take you away.
While you’re sound asleep, your girlfriend stays up for some time thinking about everything that had taken place today. Is
 should the two of you get married? Your mother made a few good points. She knows you want kids at some point, and being on her insurance would probably beat the shitty insurance that the district offers her. And God forbid something happen to her, she would want you to be taken care of- you would get the house, her belongings
 everything. But what you had said was true- the two of you were practically married as is. You’ve been together for three years, you live together, you’ve been through good times and bad. You don’t need a paper to prove to the world that you love each other.
But
 she finds that she wants that stupid piece of paper. Melissa realizes that calling you her partner, her girlfriend, the love of her life that she isn’t married to just isn’t enough. She wants to have the privilege of introducing you to new people as her wife, as Mrs. Schemmenti. And she can’t do that if the two of you aren’t married. Silently, she decides that she might just have to fix this situation she’s found herself in.
The two of you wake up in a warm and sleepy haze. Melissa’s arms are wound tightly around your waist, her face practically in your chest from when you had turned in your sleep. Your legs are tangled with hers, and you’ve never woken up so warm and light.
“Good morning,” you whisper as you kiss her nose softly.
She just smiles. “Waking up next to you everyday, it’s always the best part of my day.”
“Stop trying to charm me,” you chuckle. “You already got the girl, and there’s no way that my bedhead and morning breath is the highlight of your day.”
Green eyes are soft and full of love as she looks into your own. “I promise you, my love.”
You lean in to kiss her.
She’s clingy the rest of the day, like how she was last night. And while it’s not unwelcome, it isn’t quite like your girlfriend. Yes, she likes to touch you- she’s usually not all that far from you while you lounge around the house on a lazy Saturday, but today you can’t seem to escape her hold. And if you do, it’s because Melissa is up and getting you a cup of coffee, grabbing the television remote from the other side of the couch, or she’s draping a blanket over you when you shiver. But as soon as the task at hand is complete, she’s right back to you- arm draped over you, kissing your head, tracing patterns on your thigh as you read, just simply enjoying your presence. 
You let her do this in silence- you don’t mind it. But it does confuse you. For the morning, you simply chalk it up to still being exhausted from the previous day, but even a time where she should be refreshed and back to her normal self, she isn’t.
Finally, around two in the afternoon, you can’t quite keep it inside of you anymore. You have to know why she’s acting like this, and without an apparent reason.
“Lis?” you crane your neck to look at her. She’s currently sitting behind you and massaging your shoulders as you watch television.
She answers by dotting a few kisses to the slope of your neck.
“Lis,” you repeat again, and you have to fight the moan that wants to come out of your mouth. Her hands and lips are almost irresistible. “Honey.”
“I love you,” she whispers against your skin.
“I love you too,” you smile softly and turn in her arms. “But babe, I gotta ask: why are you so lovey today?”
“Am I not allowed to spoil my girlfriend?” Melissa asks you.
You chuckle and kiss her softly. “You definitely are, but
 I’m not forgetting an important day for us or anything, am I?”
“You think I need a special day to show you how much I love you?” she retorts.
You shake your head. “Well, no, but-”
“I love you,” your girlfriend tells you. “That’s all.”
You chuckle and kiss her again. Although you don’t believe her, something had to have happened to have her acting like this on a random Saturday, you relent. “Okay, honey.”
You let her continue to be clingy- it’s not like you mind it. Melissa is always so hellbent on showing her tough side, and you absolutely melt at being privileged enough to see the walls come down and her heart show. She continues to shower you in words of affirmation, and the look in her eyes is a look of love, but it’s different from the usual love you see.
The two of you are cooking dinner in your loungewear when she takes hold of your left hand. She brings it up to her lips and kisses your ring finger specifically.
“Lis?”
She just hums in response before pulling you in close and continuing to tend to the pot that she’s stirring.
“Honey?” That was odd.
Melissa looks to you. “What?”
“What was that?” you ask with a raised brow.
She smirks at you before casually replying, “I think your left hand might look better with a couple rings on it, don’t you think?”
“What?” Your jaw drops at her words, spoken as if she was telling you about the most mundane things in life, not marriage.
Melissa kisses the side of your head. “I’ve been thinkin’.”
“Clearly,” you chuckle softly.
“Can I admit somethin’ to you? Without you gettin’ mad?”
Your brows furrow. “What did you do?”
Your girlfriend’s hands immediately go up in surrender. “Nothin’ bad, babe. I just
 with Janine and Gregory getting married, your words about not needing a silly little paper did something to me. And then
 yesterday when you were on the phone with your ma, I may have heard you tell her I was practically your wife anyway.”
“You are,” you confirm. “But I know you don’t want the legalities of it all, and I’m okay with that- I told you that when I moved in.”
“What if- what if I don’t want just ‘practically’ no more?” she asks hesitantly. “What if I want it officially, and to be able to introduce you as Mrs. Schemmenti, my wife?”
Your eyes widen slightly. “I mean
”
“I’ll put it to you this way,” Melissa sighs softly. She pauses to stir the contents of your meal again. “When
 when I married Joe, I knew it wasn’t the fairytale I imagined as a kid. So when it didn’t work out, yeah- it sucked. The circumstances made it suck a lot more. But
 I don’t feel that way with you. I feel like everyday is a dream when I wake up beside you. You’re the
 the miracle I’ve been waitin’ on.”
Tears begin to spring to your eyes at her vulnerable and meaningful words. “R-really?”
“Really,” she whispers as she kisses your head again. “An’ I’m not sayin’ we need to rush anything, but I
 I think we should think about next steps. Ring shopping, an engagement, maybe a small, low-key wedding?”
You nod against her. “I- I think you’re on to something.”
When Monday rolls around and Melissa, now your fiancee, walks into the staff room of Abbott Elementary with a sparkling ring on her finger
 well, she can only smirk.
“I guess I want that stupid piece of paper after all.” And then when she sees Janine’s face, she quickly adds, “And no- we will not be having a double wedding."
TAGS:  (and let me know if you want to be included!): @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @sweetcheeksschemmenti @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie @temilyrights @emilynissangtr @squinnchy @dopenightmaretyphoon @emeraldoceansstuff @shinyfaerielights  @blkmxrvel @marvelwomenrule @sarahjohannson @casualfoxwitch @babytakeittothehead
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mind-intheclouds342 · 1 day ago
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Do it for them - Co-captain reader x Curly
Previous - FINAL PART - Bonus
"Let me see"
You mentioned while laughing, sitting in front of the man who looked at you affectionately as you touched his face and observed him attentively.
"Your eye looks a bit red... Have you been using the drops the doctor recommended?"
Curly: "Maybe... I forgot them... today"
His voice was still somewhat strange to hear, it had the essence of what his voice once was, but much rougher and it was difficult for him to say long sentences, he had to pause between words to be able to say them.
You caressed his cheeks with your thumbs, seeing the scars on his face.
At first, it wasn't the same skin you knew; you were surprised at how his body returned to that familiar skin, changing its texture, gradually becoming the skin you love to touch.
You noticed the ring hanging from his neck, with the lack of hands, he wore his ring that way to keep it close.
He had to convince you to give him back his ring, but at that moment you were in crisis because you had told him that the day you took it off, you would leave him. Although you reached an agreement to annul that promise.
Five years had already passed since you returned to Earth, and too many things had happened.
On your side, you started following your dream when you were little, and today you have your own bakery.
But it was hard work getting here, because the first thing you worried about was your husband's well-being, who spent half a year resting in the hospital, and then you had to take care of him with attention at home.
Pony Express decided to give you a percentage of your salary and a bonus for the damages they suffered, so with that money, they performed the man's first surgeries.
A skin graft, hair, and facial reconstruction, among others, over the next two years.
He used prosthetics that helped him walk and pick things up on his own, although just in case, you still had his wheelchair as a backup, which he refuses to use again, and when you're not watching, he tries to get rid of it, but you've locked the room where it is.
You even adopted two dogs, the first was Jupiter, a Labrador, a service dog who helps Curly when you're not around, and he's also a very good companion.
And after insisting for so long that Jupiter needed a little sibbling, you adopted Sunset, a dog you had found outside your bakery begging for food, a golden retriever who had escaped from her home, where it seemed they only used her to have puppies and sell them because she was purebred.
Both animals got along well right away, both quite calm, they don't cause any problems.
On the other hand, you stayed in touch with the rest of the crew.
Anya was able to get into medical school a few months after returning, and she is currently in her final year to receive her diploma.
Swansea retired and stayed at home with his family and children, being welcomed by his wife and the little girl she had had a few months ago.
Daisuke tried again with the art school, giving his all and with the support of his parents, he was able to get in. He even has a blog where he talks about the experiences he had in his life to motivate other young people to follow what they love.
Jimmy on the other hand... The last thing you heard about him was that his sentence was extended further for causing conflicts during his time in prison.
As for the little baby... you found out she was adopted by a good family, and that was all you needed to know about her.
Curly: "They're already... about to arrive"
He alerted when he heard Sunset start barking upon hearing a car park nearby.
He got out of bed and went outside to open the door and let his friends into the yard.
There was something that became a tradition among you, every year you celebrated the anniversary of the day you returned alive to Earth after such an experience, having a meal at your home.
Daisuke: "Who is the cutest girl! Let me pet you, fluffball!"
The boy, every time he went, was determined to make Sunset his friend, but she always ended up hiding where he couldn't reach her.
Anya: "Today is a wonderful day... And the food smells really good, every year they surpass the previous year's food, it's incredible."
Swansea: "Not bad, huh! Did you make this grill by yourself, Curly? The meat looks incredible."
Daisuke: "Where is (Yn)?? I want to greet her!"
He had managed to catch the dog, who was resigned in his arms while Jupiter was barking at Daisuke, knowing how upset Sunset was.
Curly: "She has... a surprise for... all of you."
He said, smiling, waiting for you to come out in the summer dress he had bought for you, quite loose and comfortable, perfect for your growing belly. 
Everyone was surprised to see you, Daisuke was left speechless, dropping Sunset.
Daisuke: "But! You said-!"
"Well, not naturally—but... I was given the opportunity to do it in vitro and it was a success! I was afraid it wouldn't work because of my eggs, but... after several failed attempts... we finally got very lucky."
You caressed your belly, smiling.
Swansea: "Look at that... Congratulations, kid!"
Anya: "That's wonderful! Oh my God, how many weeks are you now? Do you already know their gender? Why didn't you tell us anything?"
She approached to touch your belly, happy that you have achieved what you wanted so much.
"I'm already in my 29th week... And we already know it's a boy! We were deciding on a name!"
Daisuke: "I have a really cool one!"
"I'm not going to call him Daisuke."
The boy let out a disappointed "aaaw" that you weren't going to consider his name for your son.
Curly: "We thought... of Charles"
"That I'm still not at all in agreement with that name."
You pointed at him, making him laugh and roll his eye.
Anya: "You still have time! When is your due date? I would like to be with you when it happens."
Daisuke: "Can I be there too? Maybe the second time I won't faint, hehe."
Swansea: "I wish you the best, boys are not difficult to entertain, they are difficult to keep alive, they love danger even after reaching adulthood."
You felt very excited about all the support you were receiving, happy to have met such wonderful people.
You didn't regret at all for having done everything possible to get them out of that situation.
The gathering continued with everyone eating and talking about the things they had been doing lately, catching up on their activities, until dessert time arrived, everyone's favorite moment.
Curly: "The best sweets... are from my wife..."
Swansea: "You don't even like sweets!"
Curly couldn't help but smile anyway when he saw everyone enthusiastically eating the ice cream cake you had made for that hot day, while he had his own special portion that you prepared for him so he could eat without too much sweetness.
You couldn't resist feeding him, and even though he wanted to seem annoyed, he adored the attention you gave him.
"Oops~ I'm sorry~ I stained your cheek"
You said with a smile to kiss his cheek, you started smearing hkd face with the dessert and left kisses on all those spots.
Swansea: "Get a room!"
Daisuke: "...Did you ever do it on the ship while working?"
"DAISUKE!"
You shouted with your cheeks red at such a true thing that had been said.
Curly: "...Two or three times..."
Swansea: "That's nothing, you managed to control themselves quite well."
Curly: "....During the week"
"Can I send it back into space?"
You didn't know how to hide your face in response to his declaration, you were extremely embarrassed.
But you had no escape, from the day you said yes, that man was going to stay with you until the end of his days.
And you knew well that he is going to be an incredible father soon as well.
In the end, everyone was able to have their well-deserved fate.
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wstviewvidal · 1 day ago
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fwb!wanda headcanons
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pairing: fwb!wanda maximoff x reader
summary: headcanons based on my two small works breakfast and birthday!
a/n: thank you all so much for your love and support on my past two works! it means the world to me that at least two people like it lol.
minors do not interact
- fwb!wanda who finds herself staring at you with a love struck smile when you get ready at her vanity wearing her sleep clothes (she may or may not have candid pictures of you on your phone in said scenario)
- fwb!wanda who had a crush on you for the longest before the two of you slept together for the first time. she often found herself wondering what you were doing, and if you were doing okay. she usually always called you with a lame excuse of wanting to talk
- fwb!wanda who gives people death stares when they look at you for too long. she hates that she can’t vocalize or act on her jealousy due to the nature of your relationship
- fwb!wanda who laughs at every joke you tell her (even when they suck) and her friends making fun of her for it
- she absolutely loves when you sit on her lap on your own without her having to pull you into her. it makes her feel like you willingly seek her out, that her feelings for you aren’t as one sided as they may seem
- at parties, she knows you don’t like crowded spaces so she makes it a point to check in on you and keep an eye on you from wherever she’s at. she’ll text you from across the room, let me know when you want to leave. we can get food
- has a list of things you’ve said you liked and wanted (she uses this list to buy you gifts every month)
-your parents love wanda (granted they think she’s just your best friend and know nothing about your agreement) and she makes it a point to get to know them personally because she hopes someday she’ll ask for their blessing
- wanda who will make reservations for dinner for the two of you and, if you’re late, will order you whatever she knows you’ll like.
- you gave her a necklace a few years ago as a gift and you’ve yet to see her without it on. she changes all of her jewelry often, always adding to her collection, but this necklace is the one thing that’s never changed
- wanda loves to compliment you because of how flustered you get, the way you roll your eyes and try to look away so she won’t see the blush on your face
- she is a flirt. she will flirt with no shame, doesn’t matter where or who you’re with. she will try to woo you at any moment
- although she’s such a sweetheart to you, she has a dirty mind and will often throw her thoughts at you while doing the most mundane tasks. (innocently, she acts like she didn’t say them after you ask her to repeat herself)
- when you two go out, she never allows you to open a door. she insists that it’s better if only one of you touches the door so it minimizes the risk of the germs getting you two getting sick (but you know better)
- when you two would study together in college, she would try to subtly ask if you were seeing anyone (you know why she was asking but never acknowledged it)
- whenever you two go out to eat, you two always give each other the first bite of whatever you’re eating
- on your way home from work, you always call wanda to ask her how her day went (not because you were dying to hear her voice all day..)
- wanda’s a few inches taller than you and loves it. she loves being able to reach things on the tall shelf for you, she loves being useful
- when you told wanda that a guy was flirting with you at work, she took it upon herself to send you a gigantic bouquet of flowers because she said it was her duty as your friend to protect you (not because she was jealous..)
- wanda who is absolutely head over heels for you and often finds it hard to not act like your girlfriend (not that you mind)
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killerblackberrypie · 2 days ago
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THIS.
My mother will never, ever, listen to me about politics. I’ve tried. It’s only gotten worse with time. To her, I am a clueless child who’s bought in to the vast liberal conspiracies. I cannot convince her about *anything*. About all I can do is mention when right-wing policies personally affect me or people close to me, which she then
well, she generally denies that the policy had anything to do with the thing I’m mentioning. But sometimes she becomes aware of real-world things that the policies she’s voting for are affecting. I did get her to call her congresscritter one time when the ACA was up for repeal and say that even though she supported the repeal, the replacement needed to keep the pre-existing condition clause. It was the best I could do. It’s gotten worse since then.
All the folks saying that you have to talk to your Trump-voting family members- yes, but also no. You can, and should, be strategic. Your older relatives don’t respect anyone younger than them? Leave them be. You don’t have to take shit from them but leave them be.
But if you’re a guy and your younger male cousin who looks up to you starts saying incel bullshit? You likely have an opportunity.
My college friends come in two flavors, mostly- wildly right wing and queer people who left the evangelical community way long ago. The folks in the B group don’t have any sway over the folks in the A group, and it would be a waste of time for them to try. But I’m also thinking of one of the few sane friends who’s maintained connections with both sides- she’s one who, if I lived closer, I would honestly try to radicalize. (Wouldn’t work well online- I know her well enough to know that.) And she’s “safe” enough to some of the crazies that a few of them might be willing to listen to her if she said things to them.
Look for the people with whom you have good relationships, who respect you, who listen to you. If your whole family doesn’t, then you’re not it. Look elsewhere. But there are very likely people you can influence safely, and should.
Activism is not cold-calling.
Activism is not cold-calling, and this is critically important to understand.
I'm seeing a lot of posts on here about 'building bridges' and 'finding community,' and then (extremely valid) response posts saying "BUT HOW??" And I'm going to explain something that can be very counter-intuitive: there is strategy involved in community.
As a longtime volunteer labour organizer, I’ve taken and taught many trainings on the strategy of talking. Something that surprises a lot of people is the very first thing you do in a union campaign. You sit down with your organizing committee, take out pen and paper, and literally map it out. You draw a physical map of the workplace: where are the entrances, exits, break rooms, supervisor offices. Essentially, ‘where is it safe to have a union conversation.’ Then you draw another physical chart of your coworkers. You sort out who is union-friendly, openly hostile to unions, or somewhere in the middle, and then you plan out very deliberately and carefully who talks to whom and in what order.
Consider: If Vocally Leftist Jane walks up to Conservative David and says "hey what do you think about unions," David is going to shut down immediately. He's not inclined to listen to Jane. But if Jane talks to Moderate Jason and brings him into the fold, then Jason is a far more effective strategic choice to talk to David, and David may actually hear him out without an instant reaction.
IMPORTANT CAVEAT: If Conservative David turns out to be Alt-Right David, and could be dangerous to follow organizers, we write him off. We are not trying to reach Alt-Right David. We are trying to reach Conservative David, who may actually be persuaded to find solidarity with other employees as fellow workers. Jason is a safe scout to find out which one he is. It does no one any good if Leftist Jane (or even Moderate Jane who is a visible minority) talks to Alt-Right David and puts herself on his radar. Not only has she done nothing to convince Alt-Right David to join a union - she's probably actively turned him against the idea - but now she's also in danger and the entire campaign is at risk. NOBODY WANTS THIS. Jane was NOT a hero for doing this. The organizing committee was foolish and enacted a terrible strategy to everyone's detriment.
Where you can make a difference is with people who will listen to you. You having a conversation with your well-meaning but clueless Centrist Democrat Auntie, and maybe gently helping her understand some things the media has been glossing over, is way more strategically useful than you marching up to MAGA Neighbour You've Met Once and trying to "build community" or "understand" them. They don't care. They're impervious, dangerous, and cruel. But maybe your beloved auntie will think about what you said, and then talk to her friend Anna who IDs as "fiscally conservative" but didn't vote because she can't bring herself to get on board with Trump. Then perhaps Anna talks to her brother Nic who has MAGA leanings but isn't all the way there yet. Proto-MAGA Nic would not have listened to you, nor would he have listened to Centrist Democrat Auntie, but he might absorb some of what his sister is saying.
This is not a cop-out or an echo chamber. This is you spending your time and energy strategically and safely. You are not a useful activist to anyone if you’re dead. Anyone who is telling you to hurl yourself directly at MAGA assholes like cannon fodder has no understanding of the strategy behind community building, and you should feel comfortable writing them off.
Last point: If you are tired, emotionally devastated, and/or in danger: take a break. This post is for people who would feel better jumping into action, not for people who are too overwhelmed to even think about it right now. You are worth so much even if you’re not actively Doing Activism, and your rest is worth more than “a break period so you can recharge and Do More Activism.” We all deserve the individual dignity of being worthy of comfort, rest & safety just on the basis of being human, outside of whatever we're doing for others' benefit. To deny ourselves that dignity is to devalue ourselves, and that’s the absolute last thing any of us should be doing right now.
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7s3ven · 2 days ago
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WHAT HAPPENS IN VAGAS STAYS IN VAGAS. simon riley
( just an idea)
I recently watched a movie set in Vegas that had the title (what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas) as its motto and I thought it’d be a really funny plot. I’ll use Ghost as a placeholder for now.
But yeah, imagine reader and Ghost (total strangers) get married in Vegas and they’re like “wtf” and they don’t officially divorce so, hey, Ghost actually has a wife on paper. And then Laswell introduces TF 141 to a transferred worker and what do you know, it’s Ghost’s Vegas wife.
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Ghost wasn’t known for drinking past his limits. In fact, he barely had any. He wasn’t a light weight in the slightest. He could drink at least twenty large pints of beer and still be fully sober. But, it seems Vegas had fucked him over. He blamed Jonny for convincing the team to take a holiday to America.
He could still taste the fruity cocktails on his tongue as he sat up, rubbing his face. His mask was discarded to the side, lying on the floor. The room was surprisingly tidy as he leaned over the body beside him to retrieve his mask- wait, that wasn’t right.
Ghost let out a grunt of surprise, staring at the person beside him. His gaze immediately landed on the wedding ring that glinted in the dim light. His heart lurched. Had he slept with a married person? His brows creased as he tried to remember what had happened. Who even was this strange woman? He had never seen her before.
Ghost racked his brain for clues until he realized that the woman beside him was the one he had been eyeing all night in a drunken state. He thought she was pretty and he hadn’t seen the ring before.
He looked down at his own hand, eyes widening even more at the sight of a matching wedding band. It didn’t take a genius to piece everything together.
Ghost hadn’t slept with an already taken person, he had fucking married a stranger instead. Well, in the grand scheme of things, that seemed a little better than ruining a marriage because he drank too much.
You stirred and Ghost froze as you opened your eyes, blinking in confusion. “Where am I?” You were just as confused as he was. “Hey, did we sleep together? You don’t have a girlfriend, do you?” Your words slurred together. You glanced at the ring on his finger, lurching back. “Oh my gosh! Are you married?! Did I fuck a married person?! I’m so sorry!”
“Look at your own finger.” Ghost grumbled. “Wasn’t married before I met you.”
At least you were a smart one. “Oh
 we married each other
 um, what’s your name?”
“Simon Riley.”
“Y/N L/N.”
The two of you shook hands, still tangled in the white bedsheets.
“So
 what happens now?” You mutter.
“I gotta get to work. Give me your number so I can call ya and we can
 figure whatever the hell this is out.”
You hand him a piece of paper with your digits written on it. It doesn’t take you long to get dressed and walk out of the hotel, already texting your friends on what you had woken up to.
Hours passed and then days and finally months. And there was no call from the handsome man you had accidentally married. And there was no chance of even divorcing if you couldn’t get in contact with him.
So you endured it. And whenever your friends asked about the ring, you told them the story of how you had managed to get drunk and marry a total stranger. They found it hilarious.
Kate Laswell was the woman who entirely changed your life, in more ways than another. When you were a teenager, she helped you out of a slump. You owed her a great deal for saving you at your worst. So when she asked you to transfer from your secretary line of work in the military to a special operations unit as their new intelligence operative, you agreed.
She had given a meaning to your life, a well-paying job that could support you, and unintentionally reunited you with the man who was bound to you on paper.
“This is Y/N. Treat her nice.” Laswell says to the four large men towering over you. But you only have eyes for the one with the Skull mask. You could recognzie those vivid eyes anywhere.
He wasn’t wearing gloves, giving you a perfect view of the wedding ring still sitting on his finger. You couldn’t blame him, you still wore yours too for some reason.
“Ey, LT, yer gon’ a burn a hole in the poor lassie if ya keep starin’ like that.” John Mactavish, aka known as Soap or Jonny, said, laughing. “You like ‘er or somethin’?”
“Yeah, I guess. She’s my wife after all.” Ghost grunts. You want to pinch the bridge of your nose. How could he say such a thing without context?
Gaz is the one who makes a fuss over Ghost’s statement. “Wait, you’re married?! And you didn’t invite us?!”
“It was in a dingy church.” You say to fill in the gaps.
“Where?” Gaz presses on.
You and Ghost exchange a look, embarrassed about your reckless actions. “Vegas.” You both say in unison.
You can practically see the cogs working in Soap’s head as he gasps. “Is that where yer disappeared off to? Ya got married to a pretty lass without tellin’ us? How long have y’all known each other?!”
You clear your throat as you hear the quiet sound of Laswell chuckling. Glad to see she finds your predicament amusing. “We don’t.”
“So you married a stranger?” Soap’s eyebrows furrow. “Ey, how come you got married before me?!”
“What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.” Ghost reminds his team members.
It’d be really funny if, even after that, you and Ghost still don’t divorce. And y’all actually start treating each other like lovers.
Like, yeah, we were strangers and got married in a church in Vegas but we won’t divorce because the married life is actually better than expected. What about it?
Ghost literally brushes off the fact that you guys were strangers. He treats you like his wife, bringing you food and wiping your makeup off when you’re too tired to do so. And eventually, you guys just accept it.
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tbiscool35 · 16 hours ago
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Legit it's like finding out that a man cannot see himself being friends with a woman unless he's trying to date her. Like that's just sexism my dude, touch some grass.
I have multiple male friends, some who have gfs, some who don't, none of which want to get in my pants. They're all decent human beings who are comfortable enough in their masculinity to hang around women and not feel emasculated if they're not the centre of attention.
One of my male best friends had literally never had a supportive friend group before us and had such an insane change in personality from the time I first met him to now, almost 2 years later. Dude has stopped putting himself down all the time and has even gone through a whole sexuality crisis (he's a bisexual king with a hot bisexual queen and they both admire the hot people together).
He is one of my best friends and I love him like an annoying little brother. I wouldn't trade him for the world.
Some men do suck, but treating all men the same as ones who do actually do despicable things just increases the seperation between the genders. It takes away the ability for mixed friendships and the ability for men to understand things from a women's perspective. And if you can't understand the perspective of a population, well that's how discrimination and dehumanisation happens.
Sexism works both ways. People are human, treat them as such regardless of race, gender, religion, or any other seggregating factor. Never dehumanise a section of humanity. No matter how justified you think it is. Because that is how the most heinous crimes of humanity were allowed to occur.
Some of y'all genuinely hate dudes and honestly, that's super cringe
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karineverse · 2 days ago
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List of Palestinians that reached out to my dms
@lamahouranii11 https://gofund.me/cd29b3ea
"I'm Lama, I live in a tent after being displaced 3 times, this tent doesn't protect us from the cold of winter and we need winter clothes for us, our children and the elderly, everything in the market is expensive and we cannot afford to buy it, with the closure of the crossings.💔😭There is also no food in the market or flour, we are on the verge of famine in the south unfortunately and no one is moving for us and everything is 20 times its price, such as milk, diapers, food, flour and clothes, we cannot afford to provide any of these supplies for us and our children, help us and donate to us, you are our last hope and lifeline for us. 💔💔😞"
@hadeelsamir https://gofund.me/fdd492ab
"My tragic story with my family began with the beginning of the ground invasion in Khan Younis city when the Israeli army surprised the citizens living in Al-Mawasi, a safe place according to the Israeli army, early in the morning by shooting and shooting at anyone who moved. No matter what they were. My family and I were trapped in our beautiful home for 24 hours until we found a way and sneaked to safety so that they could survive for the first time. We left all our belongings behind us, we were only carrying some money and important papers, we could not sleep that night. The next morning, we bought a tent trying to make it look like a shelter."
@life-111 https://gofund.me/2cf9966e
"I am Ahmed Hammad, 26 years old, married, and I have a child that I had two months ago. I have lost many members of my family, including my father, brother, and sister, as a result of the war on my country, Gaza. I used to work as a cleaner at Shuhada al-Aqsa Hospital, where I was injured by the bombing two weeks ago. I can't support my family and my little child is malnourished. I now live with my wife, mother, and son in an unlivable tent. I can't work, I can't provide treatment for my sick mother, and I fear for my child's future. I want him to live a normal life.
Any help you can give will be appreciated as a beacon of hope in our darkness. The war has destroyed our lives, turning us from a happy family into homeless refugees. We need support to provide food, drink, clothes, as well as milk, diapers, and proper nutrition for our little boy. We desperately need help so that we can continue to face these daily challenges and survive. Every bit of support and help can save our lives and give us hope for a better tomorrow. I call on you all to stand in solidarity with us during this ordeal. Every small donation, no matter how little, will change our lives for the better. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your support and help ♄♄♄"
@eslamfa2 https://gofund.me/a2ccf744
"Eslam is a teacher and a young mother of 2; Hanaa (age 5) and Ana (age 1). Since last year, she and her family have been fighting to survive the siege on Ghazzah.She and her family lost their home to the bombings, displacing them all to a tent. The unhygienic conditions have caused both of Eslam's children to develop skin diseases."
@hanangaza https://gofund.me/3c368bc9
"Hanan, her husband, and their three young children are fighting to survive the genocide in Ghazzah. They endured the bombing of their home with themselves still inside, and afterwards were displaced to tent camps by the coast. Hanan's husband's clothing store, their main source of income, was destroyed as well during the bombardments.
They are now living every day without the most basic amenities of living; their tent doesn't even protect them from the weather."
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suugarbabe · 9 hours ago
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Mattheo Riddle with a precious little cheerleader, then he sees how small the skirt is. LITTLE CHEERLEADER MIGHT AS WELL GO IN A WHEELCHAIR AFTER GETTING ABSOLUTELY FUCKED.
I made this a halloween party, hope that's okay <3 it’s not full smut but I still think it’s cute???
[this post has nsfw content, 18+, MDNI, be aware of your internet consumption]
Pansy straightens her own costume out as she looks in the mirror and inspects any need for finishing touches, "What're you supposed to be again?" You're adjusting the bow atop your head as you look in the same mirror just over her shoulder, "I'm a cheerleader. It's a muggle thing, like...a supporter of their sports." Pansy passes you her lipgloss so you can add shine to yours as well, "And are all of these cheerleaders outfits as short and slutty as yours?"
You scoff slightly, turning to the side in the mirror. The pleats of the skirt fan out and the slightest view of your lace clad ass cheeks peek out. "Okay, from what I've been told they wear little shorts underneath; so yes I may have sluttied the outfit up a bit, but Matty is going to love it." You turn to face Pansy, "You're coming for my costume but what are you supposed to be?"
She was wearing a nearly see through silk white slip, a simple red lace bustier underneath. She grabs a small white that almost looks like that of a muggle sailor except it has a red plus sign on the side. After she charms it to stay still for the night she slides her wand back into the fastener on her thigh before pointing at her hat, "I'm a healer, duh." You shake your head in faux disbelief, "But my costume is the sluttier one."
Pansy all but ignores your comment with a roll of her eyes and an insistence that you both need to make your way downstairs. The drink table is your first destination, deciding that the longer it takes you to make contact with Mattheo the more worked up he'll be when he finally sees you. Making your way to the groups usual destination you're more than aware of the amount of male attention you're garnering.
And if you weren't actually aware of the stares, the look on Mattheo's face as you approached the group would've given away how truly sinful your costume appeared. Mattheo's eyes bore into you, an intensely hardened stare, the muscles of his jaw clenching tighter with each sway of your hips as you moved closer. On purpose you 'forgot' to say hello to Theo as you walked by him, earning a protest for your attention.
You turn around to face him with probably a little more force than necessary, the pleats of your skirt fanning out and giving the person sitting in the lounge chair behind you a full show. The unmistakable crunching of plastic is like music to your ears as Theo lifts you up in a hug, slightly shining you back and forth and surely giving Mattheo another brief show. As Theo sets your feet back on the ground you turn to your boyfriend.
Setting your drink down on the table next to him, you give a slight pout. Mattheo raises a brow as he takes another sip of his own drink, hardened demeanor unchanging as you climb into his lap on the lounge chair. Setting his drink next to yours he rests his hands on either arm rest as you wrap your arms lightly around his neck, "Do you like my costume, Matty?"
The slightest twitch to his lips gives way to a smirk and he adjusts slightly in his seat, allowing your knees to slip further down on either side of his hips so your core is now flush to his waist. "I'm not too sure I liked the show that practically anyone could have seen, but I think this skirt could serve a purpose." Mattheo kissed you then, suddenly and anything but soft. A hard and hungry kiss as he gripped your hips and pushed you back and forth ever so slightly.
The friction emits a soft moan from your throat and Mattheo takes every opportunity to shove his tongue down your throat. A hands finds solace at the top of your neck, turning your head to expose your jaw and throat to allow Mattheo to nip and bite at the skin there. "Fuck, Matty, s-slow down," your breathless at the immediate attention and the shots from your pregamming are lowering your inhibitions quickly.
Immediately Mattheo ceases his actions, turning instead to the group around you guys, "Who's up for a game?" You're confused by his sudden change in interest, but when everyone agrees the chairs and tables start being rearranged closer together. As you go to find another seat Mattheo's hands grip harshly on your hips. He pulls you back down to his lap, the breeze from the action making your skirt fan out across his legs.
Enzo asks if anyone needs refills before the game begins, nearly everyone agreeing but the two of you. Mattheo immediately attaches his mouth the the underside of your jaw again, your public displays of affection nothing new to your friend group. As those around you are busy setting up the game, the other part of the group replenishing drinks Mattheo snakes an arm around your waist lifting you up slightly. The other you can feel begins to maneuver the buckle of his trousers, as well at the button and zipper.
Mattheo's voice is rough in your ear, eliciting goosebumps on your neck and a rush to your core, "Here's what's going to happen, sweetheart," you can feel him release himself from his trousers, tapping the head of his cock against your centre, the action alone causing you to clench around nothing, wetness increasing. "You're going to be a very good girl for me, baby. Gonna keep me nice and warm in this pretty pussy while we play this game with out friend, okay?"
You give a nod, not trusting your voice as Mattheo pushes his tip gently in, one hand grasping roughly on your waist as you slowly become full of him. You clench around him involuntarily, just the feeling of him stretching you out so intense your body has a natural reaction to him. "Easy, pretty girl, don't go making a mess too soon." Mattheo adjusts your skirt accordingly, making sure it's fanned out around his lap an over your thighs just so, making everyone else non-the wiser as they come back and get settled on the sofas.
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brain-damage-culture · 3 days ago
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So, this. I was homeschooled, and I will say. I did meet people who had legitimate reasons that homeschooling was better for them. Many had been in public school and were severely bullied, most due to disabilities. I myself was bullied relentlessly and my mom cites that as her reason for pulling me and my siblings out of school. (She was also enamored with the idea of downsizing into a trailer and traveling the country. Yes, with a newborn baby, two audhd kids, a dog, and her crumbling marriage) Here's how that went:
The thing is, I didn't stop being bullied when I was pulled out, I just didn't have any escape from the bullying happening in my home. I went from having a small group of friends and acquaintances and teachers to talk with to only my abusive mother, absent father, struggling little brother, and the baby I was raising in place of my mom. (She slept in the same bed as me for the first 6 years, I fed, bathed, changed, and entertained her)
Occasionally, we would fall in with homeschooling co-ops, but inevitably, drama would happen, and I learned not to get attached. I don't think I could name one single person I met during that time period if you held a gun to my head. The whole traveling the country thing didn't work out, and we went from having a house to camping or renting in small spaces. I was 12 when I started homeschooling, and I stayed at a 5th grade education level for the most part until I was 16. My mom soon stopped having any interest or ability to teach me, so I mostly just read and fucked around all day. It was boring and frustrating, I didn't have consistent access to the internet, and I fought with my family all the time.
My state doesn't require homeschoolers to submit a report card or have the children see a counselor once a year, or really anything. In 2015, my mom gave up on educating me and put me in a dual enrollment program at a community college for high schoolers, and that was what got me finally to something approaching my peers on an education level. It also finally put me in contact with adults who cared about me and wanted me to succeed, professors who checked on my progress and listened to my concerns. A library with an internet connection and nobody watching what books I was reading.
That school saved my life, and I don't say that lightly.
In 2017, a fellow homeschooler in my state was not so lucky. Matthew Tirado was a 17 year old nonverbal autistic kid who was enrolled in public school. His parents were repeatedly reported for child abuse, especially by his sister, until they took his sister out of school completely. Two months later, Matthew died. His sister didn't have any way of contacting outside help anymore, and her brother died because their parents knew that nobody could speak up for him any more.
I remember everyone else's horror, and outrage, and I remember my mom. The woman who had abused me when she knew I had nobody to go. She was scared. Because she still had my younger siblings, and she did not want to face consequences. So many homeschooling parents in my state did the same, and they fought hard to defend their right to abuse their kids. And they won.
To this day, in my state 36% of parents who pulled their child from public school in order to homeschool them did so *after* a Department of Child and Family Services (DCF) investigation revealed that they were abusing their children. That's more than one fourth. Once a child is pulled out of school in my state, there are no requirements accommodations, no therapy, no supports, and no accountability. Homeschool parents willfully practice 'unschooling' or buy curriculums from shady organizations that purport to provide an education that will turn their children into whatever parents want them to be.
Public schools aren't great. We all know this. Neither are private schools, in a different, equally fucked way. But homeschooling with no checks or balances, nobody even making sure the kids are still alive after they're out of the system? It's a level of nightmare I dearly wish nobody had to experience. And I got off so lightly.
Anyway enough lame gifted kid discourse we are in our 20s. Let's talk about how homeschooling in america should be fucking illegal it's insane lol
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passengerprincessblog · 2 days ago
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“Breaking Point” ~ Pt. 3 Lewis Hamilton x Reader
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Angst
Summary: As tensions rise between Y/N and Lewis, their unresolved conflicts spill into their separate lives. Y/N immerses herself in her new role in LA, while Lewis decides to fly to LA to surprise her and show his support for her career.
WC: 1,200
The shrill sound of my 5 a.m. alarm jolts me out of sleep, blaring through the quiet hotel room and shattering the brief peace I’d found wrapped up next to him. I fumble to turn it off, groaning as I shake off the last remnants of sleep. The room is still dim, only a hint of light peeking through the curtains, and I glance over to see Lewis still sleeping soundly, his chest rising and falling steadily, blissfully unaware of the rude awakening.
As quietly as I can, I slip out of bed and finish packing my bag. Every movement feels heavy, knowing that this is it—I’m leaving him again, back to LA, back to the whirlwind of work and responsibilities waiting for me. Last night, we’d found solace in each other, but it didn’t change anything. It was just a brief escape, and now, here I am, running out the door before sunrise.
My gaze drifts back to him, his face relaxed, his brow free from the tension that seemed to linger between us these days. I hesitate, biting my lip before walking over to his side of the bed. Gently, I reach out and brush a hand over his shoulder, softly calling his name. “Lewis
 hey, I have to go.”
He stirs, blinking a few times before his eyes finally focus on me, and I watch as the sleepiness fades, replaced by something I can’t quite place. He sits up slightly, his expression neutral, and for a moment, I feel a pang of disappointment. I’d hoped for something more—a plea to stay, maybe even a look of understanding. But instead, he looks
 indifferent.
“Right,” he murmurs, running a hand over his face. “Have a safe flight.”
I try not to let his tone affect me, but it does. I lean down, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. His arms wrap around me instinctively, pulling me closer, and just as I’m about to pull away, his lips linger, soft and desperate, as if he’s silently begging me to stay. The intensity in his kiss catches me off guard, and I feel my heart tighten, a mix of guilt and frustration swirling within me.
But I can’t stay. I pull back, offering him a small smile. “I’ll call you when I land, okay?”
He just nods, his gaze following me as I pick up my bag and head for the door. As I step out, I can feel his eyes on me, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on my shoulders, leaving me with a gnawing ache that I know won’t go away anytime soon.
Back in LA, the bustling energy of the city greets me as I arrive at my manager Jude’s office, trying to shake off the early-morning flight fatigue. Jude looks up from his desk, his expression stern as always, and gestures for me to sit down. His demeanor has always been more fatherly than anything else, a grounding force in my otherwise chaotic career. But sometimes, his seriousness grates on me, especially when I feel like he’s trying to dictate my every move.
“Welcome back,” he says, his voice clipped. “Hope you’re ready to dive right into this project. We’ve got a packed schedule, and you’re expected on set every day.”
I nod, though there’s a part of me that’s hesitant, the thought of missing Lewis’s upcoming races still weighing on me. I take a deep breath, bracing myself. “Jude, is there
 any way I could work my schedule around just one of the races? I could maybe fly out for a day or two?”
His brows knit together, and he looks at me as if I’ve just suggested the most absurd thing he’s ever heard. “Y/N, this isn’t a hobby. This is your career. You need to be here, focused, without distractions. You can’t just fly off every time your boyfriend has a race.”
“I know,” I say, feeling a surge of frustration, my voice slipping into a whine. “But it’s important to him, and—”
“Enough,” he interrupts, his tone firm. “You need to be more mature about this. You’ve worked hard to get here, and now it’s time to prioritize. Do you want to be taken seriously in this industry, or do you want to be seen as someone who’s just along for the ride?”
His words sting, and I feel like a chastised teenager, but I bite back any retort, nodding quietly. He’s right, in a way, but the guilt lingers, a constant reminder of the sacrifice I’m making.
By Thursday, the tension between Lewis and me hasn’t improved. We’ve been texting back and forth, but every conversation seems to lead to an argument, leaving me drained and frustrated. He’s in Mexico now, gearing up for the next Grand Prix, while I’m stuck in LA, bouncing from one meeting to the next. His texts are short, clipped, and filled with veiled accusations about me not being there.
Lewis: “You could have rearranged things. You know how much this race means to me.”
Me: “Lewis, you act like it’s so easy. I’m not just sitting around, you know.”
Lewis: “It’s never easy with you, is it?”
I roll my eyes, feeling a surge of annoyance. Me: “Maybe if you weren’t so dramatic, we wouldn’t keep going in circles. I can’t drop everything for you.”
Lewis: “I just want you to show that you care.”
Me: “I do care! You’re the one making this a bigger deal than it is.”
The conversation ends with him leaving me on read, and I feel a mix of anger and sadness bubbling up. Nothing seems to be enough for him, no matter how hard I try.
POV Switch: Lewis
It’s Sunday, and the Mexico Grand Prix is about to start, but my mind keeps drifting back to Y/N, and the words we exchanged over text. I’m angry, frustrated, and yet I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being unreasonable. But damn it, it’s hard not to feel like she’s slipping away, especially when she seems so focused on everything but us.
During a break in the paddock, I run into Lando, who’s his usual, cheerful self, chatting with everyone he passes. Part of me wants to brush him off, but instead, I strike up a conversation, hoping to ease my mind
 or maybe to confirm the suspicions that have been eating at me.
“So, Y/N not making it out here again?” Lando asks, looking over at me with a knowing grin.
I shrug, keeping my tone casual. “Yeah, she’s busy with this new project in LA. She’s pretty focused on it.”
“Oh, I know,” he says, nodding. “She told me she’s so excited for this role. You must be thrilled for her, right?”
I feel a pang of jealousy mixed with guilt as he says it, my jaw tightening. “Yeah
 thrilled,” I murmur, trying to keep my tone light. “She, uh
 talks to you about it?”
Lando nods, clearly oblivious to my discomfort. “Yeah, we chat here and there. She mentioned she’s hoping it’s her breakout role. I think she’s really got it in her. You must be proud.”
The weight of his words hits me harder than I expected. Here I am, stewing in jealousy, focused on how much her absence bothers me, while she’s out there doing everything she’s worked so hard for. I should be proud of her, thrilled for her. But instead, I’ve been selfish, putting my own needs above her dreams.
Lando gives me a friendly clap on the shoulder before heading off, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I take a deep breath, feeling a wave of guilt wash over me. I’ve been so wrapped up in my own feelings that I haven’t taken the time to actually support her, to let her know that I’m here for her, no matter what.
Without hesitation, I pull out my phone and send a quick message to my assistant.
Me: “Book me a flight to LA for Monday. I’m going to see Y/N.”
If I’m going to make this work, I need to show her that I care about her career as much as I care about my own.
POV Y/N
The first day of filming had gone perfectly. The nerves I felt in the morning had melted away as soon as I stepped in front of the camera, diving into the role I’d been preparing for over the past few weeks. By the time I’d wrapped up, I was buzzing with energy, flipping through the script in my trailer, trying to absorb the details for tomorrow.
I hadn’t thought about Lewis all day, not the arguments, the jealousy, or the fact that he was in a different country entirely, living his own life without me. And it was a relief—a reminder that I could be more than just “his girlfriend.” I was here, on set, doing what I loved, and for the first time in a while, it felt like it was enough.
A sudden knock at my trailer door pulls me out of my thoughts, and I look up, surprised. I’m not expecting anyone.
“Come in!” I call, glancing at the door as it swings open to reveal Lola, one of the sound managers I’d worked with before. Her blue hair, piercings, and tattoos make her stand out on any set, and her unapologetic opinions are part of why I love her so much. She’s a firecracker, always calling things as she sees them.
She gives me a wide-eyed look, an amused grin spreading across her face. “Dude, I think your boyfriend is here? That driver guy, right?”
I blink, thrown off guard. “Wait
 what?”
“Yeah, he’s out there, looking all glamorous in some fancy designer outfit,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I think the whole crew is practically drooling over him. Even the director’s talking to him.”
I get up, peering out the small window of my trailer, and sure enough, there he is—Lewis Hamilton, surrounded by a crowd of intrigued crew members, the director himself leaning in to shake his hand, a look of admiration on his face. Everyone is utterly charmed, captivated by him, and I can practically feel my blood boiling.
Seriously? He just shows up here, at my set, and pulls all the attention toward himself? It’s my project, my moment, and here he is, stepping in unannounced, drawing everyone’s focus like he’s the main attraction. Does he have to make everything about him?
As I watch, he finally manages to extract himself from the crowd, striding toward my trailer with that confident, self-assured look he always has. He’s dressed head to toe in Dior, sunglasses on even though the sun is starting to set, and there’s a part of me that feels a stab of irritation. He didn’t just show up. He came here looking like this—like he’s ready to own the entire scene.
I school my expression, putting on a happy face, reminding myself to play along. After all, it’s not like I don’t want him to be here. But the audacity of him showing up out of nowhere without even a heads-up feels
 intrusive. Like he’s stepping into my space and taking over.
He steps inside, flashing me that smile, and I force myself to smile back, pretending I’m thrilled he finally decided to show up for me for once.
“Surprise,” he says, his voice warm, like he’s expecting me to melt into his arms. He reaches out, hands settling on my waist, pulling me close.
I smile tightly, crossing my arms, refusing to give in so easily. “You didn’t tell me you were coming.”
He chuckles, running his hand up my arm, his touch gentle but insistent. “Wanted to surprise you. Thought you’d be happy to see me.”
I manage a small smile, swallowing the annoyance bubbling up inside me. “Oh, I’m thrilled,” I reply, trying to keep my tone light, though it’s laced with a hint of sarcasm. “And I’m sure the whole crew is too. They’ve all been fawning over you since you got here.”
He smirks, clearly not picking up on my irritation, as he leans in closer, his voice dropping. “Well, I’m only here for one person.” He tilts his head, pressing a soft kiss to my cheek, trailing his lips down to my jaw. “I missed you.”
I stiffen, resisting the urge to melt into him, but it’s getting harder with every touch, every soft kiss. He’s pulling out all the stops, the charm, the warmth, and it’s almost enough to make me forget how angry I was. Almost.
But then, the thought creeps back in. He didn’t come to celebrate my success, to support me in my project. No, he’s here because he’s jealous, because he wants to make sure I’m still wrapped around his finger, focused on him. He’s here for him, not for me.
He moves to kiss me, but I turn my head away, crossing my arms even tighter. “I’m not in the mood,” I say, my voice cool.
He pulls back, a look of confusion flickering across his face, quickly replaced by irritation. “What’s wrong?”
I shrug, feigning indifference. “Nothing’s wrong. I just
 wasn’t expecting you to show up here like this. I thought you’d be in Mexico, celebrating with your team.”
He frowns, his jaw clenching slightly. “I wanted to see you. I thought you’d be happy I came all this way to surprise you.”
I feel a pang of guilt, but my frustration outweighs it. “Well, maybe I would be if it felt like you were here for the right reasons.”
His expression darkens, and he steps back slightly, crossing his own arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I sigh, biting back the urge to say something harsher. “It means that every time I have something important going on, it somehow becomes about you. You’re here on my set, charming everyone, pulling all the attention to yourself. Can’t I have just one thing that’s about me?”
The hurt flickers across his face, but he quickly masks it, his tone defensive. “I’m not trying to take anything from you, Y/N. I came because I wanted to support you.”
I let out a dry laugh, shaking my head. “Support me? You’ve been fighting me about this role since I took it. You didn’t even want me to take it.”
“That’s not true,” he argues, his voice rising slightly. “I just wanted you to consider my feelings. It’s like you barely even thought about how this would affect us.”
“Oh, believe me, I’ve thought about it,” I snap back, the frustration boiling over. “But it’s always about you, isn’t it? You want everything to be on your terms. You get to chase your dreams, but the moment I try to focus on mine, it’s a problem.”
He opens his mouth, then closes it, his gaze dropping, and I can see a flicker of guilt in his eyes. He shifts uncomfortably, as if he’s realizing the truth in my words. But before he can respond, I feel a swell of something else—guilt, mixed with the nagging reminder of what Jude had said to me in that meeting.
I hear Jude’s voice in my head, his stern, almost fatherly tone telling me to focus, to stay on track, to avoid distractions. He’d warned me that this relationship would only hold me back, that I needed to be stronger, more mature, more independent.
But I love Lewis. No matter how much he frustrates me, no matter how selfish he can be, I still want him. I still want to forgive him, to wrap my arms around him and let everything else fall away. He’s here, standing right in front of me, trying, in his own flawed way, to show me he cares. And despite everything, I feel myself wanting to forgive him, to give in to the comfort of his embrace.
I look up at him, his face softening as he senses my hesitation, his hands reaching out, silently begging for me to let him in. My heart aches, torn between the voice of reason urging me to focus on myself and the overwhelming pull I feel toward him, the need to be close to him, to forget all the tension, if only for a moment.
But as I stand there, caught between my own wants and the reminder of everything I’ve worked for, I find myself frozen, unable to decide which path to take.
————————————————————
Thank you for reading!
Remember, liking and following let’s me know you want more writings! 💜
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tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang · 12 hours ago
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could you pls do some headcanons of kazutora, chifuyu and baji in their pet shop in the final timeline??
Love them having a petshop together, here are some hc's of that!
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When Baji passes his exams and becomes a vet, Kazutora and Chifuyu throw him a goodbye/ good luck on your next career party at the pet shop. This involves putting tiny paper hats on most of the pets.
They play a lot of pranks on each other in the shop
Baji studied while working often, sometimes Chifuyu and Kazutora would hear him ranting to the animals about difficult questions.
Kazutora also talks to the animals often, just telling them little bits about his day.
The pet shop has a few merch items like t shirts and keyrings for sale (Chifuyu was so proud of his name and logo choice that he couldn't resist).
Chifuyu sings sometimes when he's cleaning or working late alone. (Baji and Kazutora have seen this in the camera recordings and laughed).
Mikey visits the shop often when he's bored (Draken has to drag him back to work sometimes).
If there is any sign of someone being abusive towards animals, they get kicked out of the shop (literally)
Chifuyu says Hanma is banned from the pet shop after the great cat incident of 2016 (Hanma still finds ways to sneak in though, normally with Kazutora's help).
All three of them are really bad at not bonding with the animals too much, so they all get a little sad when one is actually bought (though also happy that the animal has found it's home).
If someone that one of them finds cute walks into the shop then the other two tease them about it the whole time
Chifuyu will say goodbye to every animal before leaving for the day
They have a tendency to share their lunches together 
Kazutora was actually a bit nervous to start working at the pet shop since he didn't have as much experience with pets. (He's a natural though and the animals seem especially drawn to him. Something which makes Chifuyu and Baji pout at times)
Izana comes in to look at the fish often
And finally, their very first customer was Takemichi. He didn't have a pet but wanted to support the shop so ended up buying a random hamster wheel. Then Hina ended up seeing it and assumed Takemichi was going to surprise her with a hamster. And that's the story of how Takemichi and Hina got a hamster. (Chifuyu, Baji and Kazutora love teasing him about this).
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bullet-prooflove · 10 hours ago
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Right Here: Leroy Jethro Gibbs x Reader
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Tagging: @kmc1989 @riley-kore @ilovemark1951 @love-affair-with-fandoms @mishkatelwarriorgoddess
Companion piece to:
The Ice Queen - Gibbs meets The Ice Queen for the first time.
Break The Ice - A act of decency helps Gibbs to break the ice.
Grave - You and Gibbs bump into each other in an unexpected place.
Safe - You and Gibbs work through your grief in different ways.
Check In - Gibbs checks in with you after the night before.
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The night Gibbs closes the Mildred Jones case is the night you come home to find him sitting on your porch.  His elbows are resting on his knees and his head is tilted back towards the stars that are twinkling above. There’s a half drunk bottle of whiskey resting on the stoop alongside of him, the amber liquid glistening in the porch light you always leave on.
“So this looks fun.” You say, nudging his boot with your foot to get his attention.
“You weren’t in so I thought I’d wait.” He says as you sit down alongside him. Your body accidently bumps against his and he leans in just a little absorbing your warmth.
“You started drinking without me.” You say gesturing towards the bottle.
He sighs and you can see the shame etched into his features because this isn’t him. This case it’s touched a raw nerve, thrown him back into a place that he doesn’t want to be. You know what it’s like to fall into that hole, you know how hard it is to climb out. If you're honest with yourself, you aren’t sure you ever did.
“You wanna come inside, see if we can’t sober you up a little?” You ask him and he nods his head in agreement as you raise to your feet. Your arm hooks under his as you try to pull him up with you.
“Christ you’re heavy.” You mutter before he forces himself to his feet, he wobbles for a moment, his hands grasping your shoulders as he tries to steady himself. You grip his hips, holding him in place as he continues to waver.
“I gave away one of my daughter’s toys today, her favourite.”  He whispers, his forehead coming to rest upon yours. “I guess that means I’m moving on right?”
“Is that what this is all about?” You ask as the tears leak down his cheeks. “You feel guilty for letting a part of her go?”
He nods and you place your palm over his heart, fingertips splaying across the fabric of his shirt. He feels warm to the touch and you realise that this right here is the most intimate you’ve been with another person since Violet died. You’ve fucked during that time, but it’s always been impersonal, about fulfilling a need.
This is different, Gibbs, he’s showing his vulnerabilities right now and you know just how hard that it is, especially after a loss.
“Jethro.” You whisper, your fingertip tapping the space where his heart resides. “We never truly lose them, even when they’re taken from us. They’re still in here, they’re still a part of us.”
“Right.” He says with a shaky breath, his eyebrows furrowing as his hand covers yours, keeping it clasped to his chest. “I still have them, I didn’t lose them because they’re right here.”
“Yea.” You whisper, tasting the salt from his tears on your lips as they brush over his cheek. “They’re right here.”
Love Gibbs? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.
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bloggerspam · 2 days ago
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And here it is, the epilogue! We skip back a little bit in this one, for some yummy deleted scenes. Thank you @phantomfen and @haleswallows for your lovely support, this couldn't have happened without ya'll! And thank you @ashrayus for the art that inspired it all. I hope I did you proud!
===
Cass observes BruceBatdad from her vantage point two rooftops away.
She hears StephSpoiler join her soon after, TimRobin following just seconds later.
BruceBatdad is not alone.
A woman and a boy stand before him, and Cass would be a fool to not remember that face, to not know who they are.
Even from so far away, it is hard to forget the woman who gave her candy once, all those years ago.
It is hard to forget her words then too.
I have a son, Talia Al-Ghul had said then, but I'm afraid he does not like sweets, will you throw them away for me?
Cass hears TimRobin and StephSpoiler bicker quietly behind her, lets BabsOracle's soothing voice demanding explanations wash over her in harmony.
JayHood's low timbre joins the cacophony, DickieWing's excited chatter echoing in the comms as he makes his way over. It is Sunday, that Sunday, brunch Sunday, so he is in Gotham tonight.
Bludhaven must be lonely.
She squints. BabsOracle starts to hiss, TimRobin and StephSpoiler tumbling over each other now.
DamianBabyBrother stands at attention, but his gaze is on them.
She waves. He does not wave back. That is okay.
DickieWing cartwheels onto their roof, gives Cass a pat on the head before wrangling the other two.
Cass observes their new baby brother, but does not get much. He is well trained. It does not matter, there will be time to learn.
"Show of hands," BabsOracle's voice is strict, commanding. They all freeze, trained in a better way, "New family member."
Immediately, all hands go up. TimRobin hesitates. It is okay. There will be time.
Cass smiles, watches DickieWing whoop, leading the race back to the Cave.
Cass waves again, but knows not to wait this time, twirling her way through her siblings.
She intends to win the race back home.
===
Alfred contemplates his newest ward as he wipes his hands.
The little one wants to know if there are any tasks assigned to him, which is new and refreshing.
This is, of course, sarcasm.
Master Jason refused to accept food without some kind of chore to exchange.
Miss Cass still shadows him occasionally, on alert for anything Alfred should need.
Even Master Duke is in the habit of asking Alfred if he can help anywhere.
Alfred had indulged them, of course, once in a while. Help them feel at ease.
The problem now is that Master Damian is not actually asking for tasks.
He is asking for information.
That is what intrigues him.
Master Damian stands quietly at attention, patiently, as Alfred considers the best way to navigate this.
"Well," Alfred lifts an eyebrow, "It isn't entirely necessary, Master Damian."
"I must earn my keep," the young master insists, "Blood son or not, I do not plan to waste away here."
Alfred hums. "Then I suppose it would depend on where your skills lie, Master Damian."
"I was trained in survival," Master Damian replies with nary a pause, "I can cook, and do basic cleaning." He tilts his head, reminding Alfred of a Young Master Bruce. "Admittedly, I am unsure of my skill level with no-one to compare to, as it was not necessary to my training."
Alfred lets that ruminate. He could have the young master help with dishes first, chat as he cooks for the family. It would be nice to have someone in residence to help with cooking again. Master Jason still avoids the Manor quiet often, after all.
"It is at least edible," Master Damian must mistake his silence as refusal, "And I learn quick."
"Yes," Alfred reassures the boy, "I am aware. Let's have you start with dishes, shall we?"
Master Damian's lip quirks to the side, small and so very familiar, and rolls up his sleeves.
Yes, this will do. Alfred smiles back, turning around to work on tonight's dinner.
Now, how much to reveal?
===
Steph watches the newest baby Wayne scrutinize Dick's somersault with the kind of concentration of a life and death threat.
It's impressive and at once entirely so sad that Damian executes a perfect somersault two tries later.
Once to get the feel. Twice to adjust.
Genius? Or training?
Steph doesn't really want to know.
It's the 16th item on the list that Damian has excelled at within the first five tries. Steph wants so badly for this little baby to let loose. He's been here for a couple months and he still thinks his stay is temporary.
As if Bruce would let his babiest bat go back to that asshole Ra's.
Talia might be cool, Steph doesn't know. Damian sure loves her, just from the scant sentences he's said about her. But sometimes love just
isn't enough.
Damian does a perfect one handed handstand, twirling around just like Dick did and stepping delicate down, and eyeing the tightrope Duke and Steph had set up for him to try. There's a unicycle somewhere in the gym, they just have to find it.
"Does this spark joy?" Damian tilts his head, from where he's perfectly balanced on the stupid unicycle and looking way too smug about it.
"It does not." He finally answers, dismounting with boring aplomb.
The next hobby is skateboarding—Tim shows Damian how to do an ollie, once the kid has the hang of standing on the board.
It is a special kind of delight to watch a trained-from-basically-birth assassin eat shit on a skateboard.
A pencil is tossed unerringly at her forehead whilst she loses breath laughing, and you know what?
It's totally worth it, especially when it devolves quickly into an office supply version of a food fight between the five of them.
They try new hobbies, and each time, Steph asks "Does it spark joy?"
And each time Damian considers, before he answers very seriously, "It does not."
Steph's gotta admit, the sincerity is what does it for her.
By the end of it, Steph loses the bet, but it doesnt matter.
Babybat'll fit in fine.
===
Duke comes down to breakfast and immediately realizes something is wrong.
Damian has been in the Manor for a while now, and it's been routine for Duke to see him making breakfast with Alfred every Tuesday and Wednesday.
Today is Friday, and Damian is at the stove, alone.
"Hey, little dude." Duke cautiously greets, "Where's Alfie?"
"Pennyworth went to fetch more eggs." Damian doesn't turn around, but he answers, and that's all Duke can really ask for. "Someone had used it up last night, without permission."
Duke whistles. "Enough of them to warrant an emergency shopping trip?" Alfie usually keeps a burden's amount of eggs in the fridge always stocked up.
"Brown and Grayson," Damian carefully says, smirking over his shoulder and obviously trying not to laugh, "decided they wanted pancakes."
"Oh my god." Duke laughs, already seeing disaster and trying to keep it all in to ask his question, "What—what did they do?"
"Apparently," Damian drags out, "They thought that eggs and flour was enough to make the batter."
Damian comes to the table, placing a perfect plate of sunny side up eggs, bacon, and hash in front of Duke.
"Needless to say, they made almost two kilos of pasta instead." He places the second plate at the head of the table. "They tried to fry some of it anyway, and ruined two pans before they realized that perhaps, maybe, pancake batter should look a little more
liquid."
By the time Damian has his own plate sitting across from Duke, he can't breathe from how hard he's laughing.
Bruce walks in, and they no doubt paint a peculiar picture: Damian, smirking and daintily eating his eggs. And Duke, curled over the table and trying to recover and succeeding at a snail's pace.
"Good morning Father." Damian primly greets.
"Good morning, sweetheart." Bruce's voice is confused, but amiable. He carefully picks his way to his spot and compliments Damian on breakfast, who nods in satisfaction.
"Duke, are you alright son?" Bruce asks, when Duke can finally straighten up take one deep breath.
"He'll be fine, Father." Damian waves his fork, "On an unrelated note, would you perhaps be opposed to pasta for lunch?"
Duke fucking loses it.
===
"Well?" Damian sits himself down delicately, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair, expectantly.
They're down in the Cave, sitting across from each other at the round table in the main area, side by side.
Tim rolls his eyes, fine. No pleasantries then. "Are you considering joining the family business?"
Damian tilts his head, puppy-like, not that he'll ever say that to his face. "Which one?"
And that's a fair point. "Either. Any."
Damian purses his lips, in the same exact way Bruce does, thinking. "I am undecided. Why?"
"I was thinking that it was time for me to start making moves to
" Tim wants to be delicate here, considering the history Damian has, "
well, move on."
"Be more clear, Drake." And wow, the way Damian furrows his brow in annoyance is identical to Jason, "Use your words."
Tim huffs. "Robin, Demon Brat." Tim enunciates his words, trying not to smile at the way Damian perks up. "I want to retire."
Damian eyes him mistrustfully, darting from Tim's coffee cup, to his tablet, even to the BatComputer where Tim has a DNA sample running. "
I highly doubt that."
"UGH," Tim groans, "I want to rebrand, so I'm giving you the Robin domino or whatever."
"The Robin mantle must be earned," Damian puffs up like an irate Pomeranian, making Tim laugh for more reasons than one.
"I already retired once." Tim informs him, "Steph was Robin for a hot minute, making her own suit from a Halloween costume."
"She what." Damian's voice is dangerous, but Tim flaps a hand. He can blow steam as much as he wants, he's the baby of the family and despite it all Tim's 87% sure Damian wouldn't hurt a fly.

Maybe a solid 66%. He'll have to run the numbers.
"She gave it up to be Spoiler real quick," Tim continues, "And then some shit happened, and though he wasn't officially a Robin, Duke was part of the We Are Robin movement."
Damian fumes in silence, which shouldn't be funny, but is.
"In other words, Demon Brat," Tim smirks, "Lots of people have been Robin. And if you don't take it now, well
who's to say someone else won't just
make their own costume?"
Tim waits out Damian's breathing exercises, patient and frankly, uncaring. He fiddles on his tablet, sips at his coffee, considers new vigilante names. With Dick now acting as Nightwing, the transition to Young Justice won't be as confusing even if he did join up as Robin, but Tim would rather not.
Just thinking about the mistaken identity issues with Dick's romantic history is already giving him nightmares. Slim as the chances are, with their builds being so different, but Tim just doesn't want to take that chance.
"Fine." Damian finally says, "I concede. When will training start?"
Tim scoffs. "You're League trained, so you'll just be shadowing for protocol. There's a manual somewhere that Bruce made, but we mostly treat it as a guideline. The Batkids have their own that they update, and you already have access to that on your tablet." Tim gives him a look. "Tell me you need access."
Damian wisely stays silent. Tim remembers that the League isn't really attuned to the intricacies of hacking and coding, but Damian has had no trouble snooping through the system from what Tim has seen. He wonders if the League just got upgraded since Cass got trained, or if Damian is self taught. It doesn't matter.
"Right. Well, Dick said he'll take you on a mission whenever your schedule is open, and you can shadow me on my current patrol, move around. You won't be able to patrol on your own for a while but—"
"What will be your new name?" Damian interrupts, eyebrow raised. Curious.
"Oh—uh. I haven't thought about it." Tim stutters. He didn't expect Damian to ask—
"Liar." Damian accuses, squinting at him.
Tim sighs. "I dunno, Red Robin?"
"That's a terrible name." Damian's nose scrunches. "A stupid name, even."
"Wha—it is not!" Tim slams his tablet down. Damian's eyes suddenly go wide, horror dripping through his tone.
"Drake—tell me you did not simply combine Red Hood and Robin."
Tim stays absolutely fucking silent, grabbing his coffee to keep his mouth occupied.
"Drake, I implore you to be better than this." Damian slaps a hand over his face, which is rude.
"Hey! That is—that is just uncalled for—" Tim pulls his cup down, almost spilling it. He swears, but Damian pays no heed to him.
"I knew you were a fan of Todd's Robin, but this cannot go on. Did you expect me to graduate and become Green Robin?"
"No! That's stupid, there's not such thing as a green robin—"
"There's no such thing as a red robin either! Unless you wish to be named after a subpar restaurant." Damian throws his hands up.
"You've never even been to a Red Robin!" Tim sputters, and tries to get a handle on the situation.
He fails.
"You have at least sixteen unique aliases with full on back stories that you successfully keep track of and disguise yourself into, and you cannot do any better than Red Robin?" Damian says, loudly, over his protests and effectively silencing him,
Tim opens his mouth, closes it. Shuts his eyes. Grumbles. "Well I'd like to see you come up with a better name
"
"Cardinal." Damian gets up, stalking towards the secret entrance, clearly done with this conversation. "I cannot fathom how little sense you have. Ridiculous."
And well. Tim hates to say it, but Cardinal is much better than Red Robin.
Gods damn it.
===
"I will name her Batcow." Dick refuses to coo. Damian is covered in blood and wielding a sword, this is not cute behavior!
How did this happen? This was their first mission. It was supposed to be easy. Tomorrow, Tim was going to take him out on patrols. The weekend after that, Jaybird was going to take him paintballing. Steph and Duke were going to teach him how to prank people harmlessly. This was supposed to be nice, easy Robin bonding!
"That's nice, baby bird." Dick tries to placate, "We can shuffle her with the other cows to their new home—"
"Nightwing," Damian's voice brokers no argument, "I have claimed her."
Dick has to wonder if he was as much of a menace when he was this age. He wasn't, surely. Sure, he got Ace in an unconventional way, but Ace was practically made for hero-ing.
Not to mention Ace was a dog.
"It's great that you want a pet," Dick tries again, "But how about we start with a dog first? Maybe a cat?"
Damian thinks on that a bit, before nodding. Dick sighs a great sigh of relief.
"I would like one of each." Wait. What? No. Nononono—
Cackling echoes in the comms, the hysterics of Steph and Jaybird loud and guffawing in his ear.
"Stop laughing and help me." Dick hisses into the comms as Damian starts flicks the blood of his sword.
"I used to put him in, in air jail." Jaybird says through gulps of air, "Y'know, pick him up wh-hen he was acting n-naughty."
"That isn't exactly applicable here, Hood!" Dick grits through his teeth, causing Steph to shriek in high pitched laughter.
"We will have to take the jet," Damian interrupts, "Batcow will not fit on our motorcycles."
"No, Robin—we, uhm. We don't have room for a cow at home—" Dick wants to tear his hair out. He's too young for this, surely.
Heedless of his words, Damian starts to gently lead the cow towards him, raising a single eyebrow.
"Okay, well. We do have room, but that doesn't mean—"
"Nightwing. Robin." Dick has never been more glad to hear Bruce's voice, "Leave the cow with the proper authorities and report back to the Cave."
"Father," Damian's voice suddenly changes, "I would like to take Batcow home."
"
Robin," Bruce starts, but is summarily interrupted.
"Father, you have missed twelve of my birthdays." Damian's voice goes wobbly, despite Dick physically seeing that his face is stone cold, "And I have not once received a gift."
There's a long silence, and Dick slumps. What the fuck do you even say to that?
"
The jet will pick you up in 3 minutes."
"And the dog and cat?" Damian's voice is smug.
Dick sighs. "I'll take you to the shelter tomorrow."
The comms peak, from the sheer volume of Jay and Steph's mocking laughter.
===
Bruce enters his study with a tablet in one hand and a glass of whiskey in the other. 
It's been a long day.
He’s tired, preoccupied with thoughts of Damian starting school soon. The rest of his children seem to be causing some kind of trouble trying to celebrate it in their own way, and it's giving Bruce a minor headache about it.
Talia's continuous demands of pictures and actual reports is both heartwarming and excessive, but Bruce can hardly blame her.
His eyes should be scanning through the documents that Lucius sent over this morning and is still awaiting approval for. 
What his eyes catch on instead is a new addition to his Gray Ghost shelf. 
It’s an action figure of the eponymous hero, one in almost pristine condition. A first edition. 
Inside the cloche with the Gray Ghost gun is a miniature version resting just beside it. The RC car also has a miniature version perched next to its front wheel. Between the trilby and the goggles lay two hands and a miniature case of the first DVD release.
He tilts his head, feeling his eyebrow raise and a smile crawl up as he picks up the action figure to inspect it. It looks old, but clean. Not quite used, but not sitting on a shelf either—there’s little knicks here or there. Perhaps found in a garage sale somewhere? It’s not even his birthday—still, the gift warms his heart as anything involving his children does.
Now, which one of his kids did this, he wonders?
No matter, he’ll find out soon enough. His children are terrible at keeping secrets, and he isn't Batman for nothing.
He places the figure gently back down in its place, and settles in for the long haul.
===
Talia sits, straight backed with her legs crossed in a highly uncomfortable chair.
Next to her, her Beloved looks lovely in his turtle neck and slacks, comfy, even.
She looks around the room, noting the whiteboard and assortment of small desks behind them,
There are motivation posters, and informational ones with equations listed upon them.
Talia refrains from scoffing, but really, what is the point of putting the answer up on the wall? How will they learn if they have such a crutch?
"Now," The portly man sitting across from them behind a large desk coughs to clear their throat, "Damian has shown high intelligence, his grades are top of the class and he has shown such high promise that the other teachers and I have discussed whether or not it would be beneficial for him to move up grades."
"I believe the principal and I already had this conversation, Mr. Porter." Bruce smiles, but it isn't the nice one, "Dami has always been a smart boy, but he was home-schooled, and we were more concerned about his socialization."
"Ah, yes. Well. The girls in the class seem to find him charming, albeit stoic. He is gentlemanly for his age, and doesn't really participate in
" Mr. Porter coughs once more.
Talia rolls her eyes. "In idle immaturity?"
"Well, yes. It's just—well," Mr. Porter tugs at his collar, "It's just boys being boys really."
"Has he made any friends? Of either gender?" Bruce asks, giving Talia a warning look. She shrugs, putting on her best innocent smile.
"Oh! Yes, one boy, Colin Wikes." Mr. Porter takes out a handkerchief to wipe his brow, "They seem to get along, in their own quiet way."
"That's lovely!" Talia's voice goes high, fake. Bruce winces, but she ignores him, "So his grades are up, he's made a friend, and overall he's popular with the ladies!"
"W-well, yes, but the other boys—"
"Now, now. Bruce is a lady-killer himself, and he managed to figure out male friendships eventually!" Talia simpers,"He had such a close friendship with Harvey Dent after all, before that whole...fiasco."
Bruce sighs, but again, Talia ignores him. "Now, I hear that my son has a talent in art? I see that none of them are hung up—"
This is very important business after all.
No-one can stop her from achieving her mission.
===
Jason opens his door carefully, quietly.
His traps have been disabled and reset, and Jason can only think of two people who would do that.
Both of them came from the League, and both of them don't take kindly to being startled.
He drops his work bag, the one for his mechanic's job, down in the entrance way. He takes of his heavy boots and treads silently through the apartment to find out which sibling came to visit.
He's greeted by Damian, asleep on his couch with an open and currently in danger of falling copy of Pride and Prejudice.
Jason quickly tiptoes over, grabs the book before it can fall to the ground, grabbing the kid's bookmark—a pressed flower that Cass made for him—and placing it to the side.
The fact that the kid hasn't woken up is testament to their time in the League.
Jason's been getting bits and pieces back, ever since he got shot and saw double vision of Damian and a younger version of the kid administering first aid to him.
Talk about shock therapy.
It's not all that pleasant, the memories.
He remembers the grueling training, the pain and anguish and fear of not remembering. Not knowing who he was, knowing Robin was important, not knowing what to do.
But not all of them are bad.
He remembers forcing Damian to brush his teeth for longer than 2 minutes, remembers tucking the tyke in with the bear, even the figure.
He remembers various missions, where he would pick up Damian and carry him to the nearest food stand to make him try an assortment of street foods with a series of flailing movements. Remembers the feeling of accomplishment and pride whenever the little guy would express it was adequate, because that was as good as a 5 star rating.
He remembers carrying him, hastily packed duffle bag and all, and thinking Gotham, Gotham is the safest place to be but not knowing why.
Mostly he remembers watching Damian sleep, peacefully, like he is now.
Because it's novel, then and now, how Damian trusts him enough to do it.
He sits himself down for a moment, always a little woozy when memories come surfacing up, breathing deep and leaning back. It's getting easier to remember, and Leslie had said it would stop eventually, so he weathers it out.
A second later, something warm thumps into his lap.
Damian has his head there, hands fisted like kitten's paws, curling up like a little ball.
Jason sees double, triple, memories and memories of watching this boy sleep and feeling honored and responsible and attached to him.
Brothers in arms, Talia had said, back when he wasn't quite himself, but wasn't Damian's Robin anymore either. You have a brother—
Jason had cut her off then, yelling that no replacement could ever be his brother.
He had eaten his words then, and he's eating them now too.
He lays a hand on Damian's back, rubs up and down his tiny shoulder blades, the way Bruce did when he was first adopted.
Brothers indeed.
He shuts his eyes, just for a moment, to breathe in the peace.
He falls asleep like that, dreaming of teddy bears and robins, and deadly, deadly assassins.
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some jasons and damians thats been piling up :]
(and tim and alfred the cat)
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