#nines is not allowed to drive anymore

[poorlydrawnandroids]

…

Unfortunately they did not get burgers for Hank, but Connor at least learned a valuable lesson. I guess Nines suffers from Amelia Bedelia Syndrome.

———

Hi guys, this is actually a comic I drew and basically finished 11 months ago. And it’s been just about then since I’ve last really opened my iPad and did any drawing. There’s a ton of half-completed works on there and they’re pretty cute, so I’ll try to post them as I get the motivation. My therapist says posting to this blog will probably improve my mental health and he’s right but >:3c

So yeah! Let’s see what I can toss out this year, wooo!!

[livwritesstuff]

Today was a bittersweet day – the last day of the three-month parental leave Steve had taken when their daughter Robbie was born before he headed back to his counseling job.

Eddie knows that Steve is feeling torn a few different ways about going back to work.

On the one hand, Steve loves his job, and he’d worked his ass off earning his doctorate so he could be a trauma therapist just like he’d planned. Kids had also been a part of his plan, obviously, but as more of an in addition to type of way, rather than instead of when it came to his career. Eddie knows this, and he knows that Steve is excited to go back, to reconnect with his patients after three months apart.

Eddie also knows that their kids are everything to Steve in a way his job will never be (duh), and Eddie had seen the way Steve refused to ignore the gravity of today – the last day he doesn’t have to share his time with anything other than their daughters.

Steve had been emotional about going back to work in a similar way the first time around with Moe, and he’d called home about eight or nine times during his first day back in the office, asking how things were going and if he’d missed anything. Now, Moe is two-and-a-half (and some change, if they’re being technical), and Robbie just hit the three-month mark a few days ago. This time, Steve had done his best to split his time between their two daughters, and it’s not all that different from their normal day-to-day, honestly, just…something heavier in the air, maybe.

Now, Moe’s all fresh and clean from her bath, her bangs slicked back with the rest of her damp hair (Steve had put on a whole show of planting kisses all over her forehead and saying, “is this where you’ve been hiding your brilliant brain from us?” which always sends Moe into giggling hysterics), and Steve’s got her all bundled up in a big fluffy towel, snuggling her close with one arm as he balances Robbie on his chest with the other, all of them piled into a rocking chair while Eddie sits stretched out on Robbie’s rug.

“I’m probably not gonna be home when you wake up tomorrow morning,” Steve tells Moe, and it’s not the first time he’s brought up this particular subject today, but, y’know…toddlers. Really gotta nail in the point sometimes with toddlers, “‘Cause I’m going back to work, so I have to leave early to drive into Boston.”

“Why do you hafta drive to Boston?” Moe asked.

“Because that’s where my office is. Remember a few weeks ago when we visited my office?”

“Yeah and they met Robbie.”

“That’s right,” Steve nodded, “Everyone I work with met Robbie. I got to take a break from work when Robbie was born, and now it’s time for me to go back.”

Moe’s eyebrows are furrowed.

“But…I don’t want you to go.”

“I know, bug,” he tells her, “I miss you and Robbie and Daddy like crazy when I’m not home with you.”

“So why don’t you take more break?”

“I sorta took all the break I’m allowed to, sweet pea. It’s time for me to go back to work.”

Eddie looks at Moe, sees the cogs turning in her little brain as she tries to figure out a way to convince her dad to stay home with her.

“But what if you just don’t work anymore?”

It’s a good question, Eddie knows, and she’s not the only one asking it.

Not too long after Robbie’s arrival, when Max and El had come to visit and meet the new baby, Max had privately asked Eddie if he thought Steve might throw in the towel on the whole career thing this time around. Again, it’s a fair question for anybody who really knows Steve, anybody who sees how much he loves their kids and how much he loves being a dad, even if Eddie knows the answer is no. Still, it’s a close no.

Steve hums sympathetically, “Maybe someday, but I like my job. I get to help people, and I worked hard in school to be able to do that. Someday you might decide you want to have a job where you do more school and get special degrees.”

“Like what kinds of jobs?”

“Like a doctor or a lawyer, or maybe you want to work in a lab and do research on something. It’s a big world, Moe, and you can do whatever you set your mind to."

"I want to be an astronaut," Moe tells them.

"Well, there you go."

"Or I wanna be a cookie."

"Oh-" Steve's eyebrows furrow as Eddie starts to laugh. "Alright..."

"That's my girl," Eddie says, "Astronaut or pastry. I like it."

[sommerbueckers]

another part two pillow talk PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐤²

___________________________________________________________

✰ 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐥𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

✰ 𝐰𝐜 :: 𝟐.𝟖𝐤

✰ 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢 𝐝𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐭𝐭

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THE DRAGO FAMILY LAKE house was beautiful; the outside appeared like an abnormally large log cabin while the inside had been completely modernized from corner to corner.

Mrs Drago groaned, "I've never seen this much dust in my life."

"You say that every year," Catherine laughed, looking at her mom.

"Every year is dustier than the last."

As Mr and Mrs Drago set their bags down and headed into the kitchen, Catherine looked expectantly to Paige, "C'mon."

She led her upstairs, allowing Paige to stare in awe at every new area she saw until they reached their shared bedroom. There was a large bed in the middle of the room, the mattress covered in baby pink sheets with teddy bears scattered on them. Full length windows made up an entire wall, looking out to the incredible backyard.

The walls were decorated in framed pictures of Catherine when se was younger. Pictures of her in a kiddy pool with goggles around her head, pictures of her holding ice cream with what looked to be a young Zane and Sasha. There were also some that had been taken in the last few years, in a bikini on a boat, by a fire beside Noella, holding a black '8' ball over her face at what looked to be a party.

The room was like a glimpse into Catherine's past, Paige could watch her grow up just by looking at the walls. Paige smiled at a picture of a young Catherine, curls wild and untamed, in the driver seat of a Jeep with her tongue out. She had to have been about eight or nine.

"That was my uncle's Jeep, I used to pretend to drive it when he'd come up to visit," she heard the girl explain, and Paige turned to see her lying on her stomach with her chin in her hands.

Paige set the picture down and slowly approached Catherine on the bed. "He doesn't come to visit anymore?" she asked.

"He does, just not as often. I don't have to pretend to drive it now though, he actually lets me drive it around now."

"Must be fun," Paige used her hands to push Catherine's hair out of her face, then she trailed her fingers down and pulled out the girl's bottom lip. "You like to drive?"

Catherine nodded silently, put in a trance by the way Paige was completely towering over her. The presence of Paige felt overwhelming, yet mesmerizing, as if she commanded the very air around them. Catherine's gaze was fixed upward, challengingly holding the blonde's eyes. In that moment, words seemed unnecessary; the intensity between them spoke volumes.

"What about riding, huh? You like to ride Cat?"

Paige trailed her thumb across the girl's lip once more, only this time, she let it push past them and slipped her finger in. Catherine sucked gently, swirling her finger around the tip. Paige was spellbound with the way Catherine's plump lips looked around her finger, she imagined what they would look like around something much thicker.

Catherine rose up on her knees, slowly taking Paige's hand from her mouth and dragging it down her body. She tilted her head back when Paige's fingers came in contact with her clit through her shorts, it didn't take a genius to realize that she wasn't wearing any panties. Paige's own arousal grew at the thought of how easily she had access to Catherine, how easily Catherine had given her access.

Her hands wrapped around Paige's neck and she pulled her close, moaning softly into her ear.

"Want you to fuck me."

Paige pushed her down onto the bed, drawing out a yelp from Catherine when her back hit the mattress. The blonde began to unbutton her shorts, Catherine following suit as she untied the string to hers. Before either girl could get any further, a knock sounded at the door.

Catherine rubbed her hands over her face, releasing a frustrating sigh before saying, "Come in!."

Her mother's face appeared, a large smile plastered across it as she entered the room. "Hi girls," she said before turning to Catherine, "your father and I are gonna go to the grocery store to get some things for the fridge and for dinner, if you two wanna come and pick some things out you're welcome to."

A silent conversation was held between the girls before Catherine answered for the both of them, "No, just get some snacks and stuff. Some fruit too."

"Will do," Phoebe nodded, giving Paige a friendly smile before exiting the room and closing the door behind her.

They waited until they could no longer hear the woman's footsteps nearby, the pair holding in their laughter as best as they could.

"You still turned on?" Paige finally asked.

Catherine laughed, "Shut up and get over here."

BEING WITH CATHERINE'S FAMILY wasn't awkward to Paige — at least not while the curly head was around. The young teen stood in the kitchen, helping her mother cook dinner. They were making Ravioli pasta, a dish Paige always made from a can rather than from scratch. As Paige watched Catherine move around the kitchen with her mother, there was a warmth in the air that she couldn't quite put into words. Catherine, with her curls bouncing lightly as she moved, seemed completely at ease. She smiled at her mother, laughing softly at some inside joke they shared as they chopped vegetables and tended to the simmering pot on the stove. The scene was domestic and tender, a side of Catherine that Paige hadn't seen before. It was a simple, everyday task—cooking dinner with family—but to Paige, it was something else entirely.

Catherine’s hands moved with a practiced grace, chopping, stirring, seasoning—all under the gentle guidance of her mother. There was a harmony between them that Paige found mesmerizing. It was as if they were in sync, understanding each other without the need for words. Paige could see how much Catherine respected and adored her mother, and it made her heart swell. This was Catherine in her element, surrounded by the people she loved, doing something that was second nature to her.

Paige felt a pang of longing, not just for Catherine, but for this sense of belonging, of being part of something so warm and loving. She realized then that her feelings for Catherine were deepening. It wasn’t just Catherine’s beauty or her sharp wit that drew Paige in—it was moments like these, seeing Catherine’s gentler side, her connection to her family, and the care she put into the small, everyday things.

The way Catherine laughed with her mother, the way she focused intently on getting the seasoning just right, and the way she nudged Paige playfully with her elbow when she caught her staring—all of it made Paige's chest tighten with affection. She wasn’t just falling for Catherine’s looks or charm; she was falling for the person Catherine was when no one was watching, the person who cared deeply and loved fiercely.

"Paige honey, would you like some wine?"

Paige perked up at the sound of Phoebe Drago's voice, smooth and suave. The woman was dressed in a large black sweater, jeans coating her legs even with the thickness that lingered in the summer air. She didn't seem to be bothered by it, only rolling them up when she had begun cooking.

Paige quirked an eyebrow at the question, glancing at Catherine who stood smiling with her hands on her hips.

"Sure," the blonde nodded unsurely.

Catherine retrieved three wine glasses from one of the cabinets, opening a fresh bottle of Brachetto d'Acqui and filling them slightly over what her mother considered an appropriate amount.

"Catherine!" the woman exclaimed, gently hitting her shoulder. "C'est trop pour elle." It's too much for her.

"Non, c'est bon," No, it's okay. Catherine waved her off, placing the glass in front of Paige. "Is that good for you?"

"Yeah, it's cool," she shrugged cooly.

Paige had rarely even tasted wine, let alone finished an entire glass. She imagined how her mother might react if she could see her now. Catherine swirled her wine thoughtfully, then lifted the glass to her lips. As she took a delicate sip, she closed her eyes in pleasure, letting out a contented hum.

Paige couldn't take her eyes off of her, watching how her tongue darted across her lips, and how her cheeks took on a light shade of red when their eyes met. Paige's eyes roamed over Catherine, drinking in every detail with fascination. She admired the way Catherine’s lips curled around the wine glass, how the light played off her flushed cheeks. She shifted her gaze subtly, mindful not to be too obvious, trying to blend her curiosity with a veneer of polite restraint. 

"So Paige," Phoebe asked, breaking the silence, "do you enjoy cooking?"

Paige hesitated, a sheepish smile playing on her lips. "Well, I've never really cooked much, unless you count instant ramen or something like that," she said, scratching the back of her neck with a chuckle.

Phoebe's smile was warm and encouraging. "Would you like to learn?"

Paige’s eyes brightened. "I’d love to," she replied, nodding enthusiastically. Though cooking had never been her passion, the prospect of stepping away from the stool and moving closer to Catherine made the idea irresistibly appealing.

"You can help me cut the dough," Catherine suggested, extending a pizza cutter. "Then we're gonna roll it so it gets kinda thin, and that's when you put the cheese filling in."

Paige was beaming down at her, a dazed look in her eyes. She should've been embarrassed when Catherine caught, and she would've if the shorter girl hadn't been giving her the same look. Those stunning brown eyes, framed by the longest eyelashes Paige had ever seen, were staring right back at her.

"That dough isn't going to cut itself girls."

When the cooking had finally finished, Phoebe turned off the stove, her movements deliberate as she retrieved her oven mitts from a drawer. "Catherine," the woman called, grabbing four plates out of the cabinet and setting them down in a stack on the counter. The curly head didn't answer. "Catherine," she called again, and still no answer. When she finally looked up, she noticed her daughter completely immersed in a conversation with Paige.

She noticed the not-so-subtle glances between them, the way their eyes met and held just a moment too long, the subtle smiles they shared over the simmering pots. She saw how Paige’s eyes would drift toward Catherine, lingering on her as if she were the only person in the room. Catherine, in turn, would catch those glances and respond with a shy smile or a soft blush, a quiet but unmistakable acknowledgment of something between them.

Phoebe observed all of this with the practiced eye of a mother who had seen these signs before. The gentle laughter they shared, the way their shoulders brushed as they moved around the kitchen.

With that, she looked to Catherine and said in a warm but firm tone, "Catherine, could you go help your father set the table, please?" The request was casual, but the underlying message was clear: she had noticed.

Catherine blinked, slightly caught off guard by her mother’s request. She wasn’t usually the one asked to set the table—that was something her father typically handled. She hesitated for a moment, her gaze flicking to Paige, who was still standing by the counter. There was a brief flash of surprise in her eyes, but she quickly masked it with a small smile.

"Sure," Catherine replied, her voice calm, though there was a hint of hesitation beneath her tone. She grabbed the stack of plates off the counter, reaching for the silverware in the drawer before carrying it out to the patio.

As Catherine left the kitchen, Paige felt a subtle shift in the atmosphere. The easy warmth she’d felt moments ago was replaced by a slight tension that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Her muscles tightened, and she found herself suddenly aware of the quiet hum of the room, the ticking of the clock on the wall seeming louder than before.

Phoebe moved to clean up a bit, but there was a certain stillness in her posture, a deliberate calm that only added to Paige’s unease. Paige tried to focus on something else, but the lingering tension nagged at her, making her feel slightly out of place. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something unspoken was hanging in the air, just out of reach, but she had no idea what it was or why it made her heart beat just a little faster.

"You know..." Phoebe started, her voice unnaturally calm. "The first time that Catherine told me she'd be staying after school to watch her friend's basketball game, I thought there was no way in hell." She let out a breathless laugh before she continued. "Catherine's never been interested in sports. So, me being a mother, I just assumed she had a crush on some stupid little boy. She asked a second time, and a third, and a fourth. And when the fifth time came around, I started to think, 'What about this boy is so special that he is getting Catherine to do something that her father and I have been trying to get her to do for years?' And so I came to a game to see for myself, and then I noticed, there were no boys!" the woman was still smiling, but Paige wasn't sure how genuine it was.

"I couldn't possibly think of one thing that the two of you would've had in common, not one. Your styles are different, your interests are different, your friends are different..."

As Phoebe’s words hung in the air, Paige felt her heart rate spike, a cold wave of panic washing over her. Her mind raced, scrambling for some kind of defense, some way to explain herself, but the more Phoebe spoke, the more certain Paige became that she had figured everything out. The calm tone, the way Phoebe listed their differences with almost clinical precision—it all felt like a carefully crafted interrogation. Paige could feel her palms start to sweat, her throat tightening as if the truth was stuck there, threatening to escape.

She forced a smile, but it felt weak, barely holding together the rising tide of anxiety that threatened to spill over. All she could think was how desperately she wished Catherine would walk in, flash that confident smile, and somehow smooth over the growing tension. If Catherine were here, Paige was sure she could defuse the situation with just a few words, turning the conversation in a safer direction. But Catherine wasn’t here, and Paige was left alone, trapped under Phoebe’s knowing gaze, feeling more exposed with every passing second.

"But there actually is one thing that you guys have in common, and do you know what that is Paige?"

Paige swallowed hard, her mind racing as she tried to anticipate where Phoebe was going with this. She forced herself to meet Phoebe’s gaze, even as her stomach twisted into knots.

"I—uh, I’m not sure," Paige stammered, her voice wavering slightly despite her best efforts to stay calm. She could feel the blood pounding in her ears, every muscle in her body tensed as she braced herself for whatever was coming next.

"When you look at each other, you have that same little glint in your eye that she does. It's so obvious a blind man could see it from a mile away. Like you two are the only ones in the room, like your ears only respond to each other's voices. You're not very good at hiding it."

Paige hesitated, unsure of what she could do or say to save herself, to save Catherine. In truth, there was nothing that could be done, and the blonde soon came to that defeating realization. "Are you mad?" Her eyes searched Phoebe’s face for any sign of approval or disapproval. Phoebe's expression was unwavering for a moment, the urge to cry slowly building inside of Paige. That was until the ends of Phoebe's lips curled upward, a smile breaking out onto her face.

"Not at all."

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[redroomreflections]

Sign The Papers

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Not Easily Broken Universe - Masterlist

When R asked for a divorce

It starts out as a conversation you don’t want to have. Right here in the kitchen. The very same kitchen you’ve grown together in. This kitchen has seen a lot of things. Love, sex, hate, kids, messes, family gatherings, family fights. This house has seen even more.

You approach the island, leaning against the counter for support, as Natasha mentions the kids lunch for the next morning. She talks about how she has a mission coming up soon and it’s only an hour drive away so the kids can stay with Wanda and Vision if you need. She then talks about plans for Valentine’s Day and you’re only half listening to this time. You think about how none of that sounds appealing to you. None of it sounds okay. You’re not okay.

How could Natasha just ignore everything that’s been going on? How could she just move forward as if the divide between you wasn’t much bigger than you thought? You almost feel guilty for your feelings. Almost. Then you think about the sleepless nights, the fact that you haven’t really slept here, and how much you argue. It’s not right to live like this. It’s not right.

You see Natasha look at you expectantly. Had she been saying something? Oh, right. Valentine’s Day.

“Y/n?” She questions.

“I want a divorce.” You speak lowly. Unsure of yourself. You can hear the sound of a pin drop and you’re unsure if Natasha even heard you. Her face is blank. Confused. So you say it again. “I want a divorce.” Before you lose the courage you reach beside you into your suitcase. You grab the stack of papers pushing them across the counter toward Natasha. She glances down at them quickly before looking back at you. A piece of her armor cracks as she realizes you’re serious. “I am…unhappy. I-I don’t think we’re compatible anymore, Natasha. I don’t want to drag this on any more between us. I just-“ you didn’t expect the tears to prick your eyes. You practiced this speech over and over again. How come this didn’t feel any better?

“You’re kidding ?” Natasha shakes her head. “You have to be. We-we were fine. We’re fine right ?” Natasha rounds the counter and she reaches out to touch you but you flinch away. “I don’t want that. You don’t want that. Divorce? Y/n…”

“Nat, please…” You plead with her. “At some point, we have to let each other go.”

“And if I say no?” Natasha bites. “If I refuse? Nine years of marriage, eleven years together just down the drain?”

You don’t respond this time. You swallow thickly as your tongue feels even bigger in your mouth.

“I want to do this as cleanly as possible,” you begin again. “I don’t want the house or the cars or anything. Especially not your money, um, I do, want shared custody of the kids. I hope that’s something we can agree on.”

“So just like that, we’re done? I don’t even get a say?” Natasha clenches her jaw. A move to keep from crying.

“No,” You nod. “We aren’t good for each other anymore. We aren’t making each other happy. I met with my lawyer today and-“

Natasha inhales sharply. This was really happening.

“I’m not signing.” She refuses to grab the papers before you can pick them up again. She rips them into tiny shreds allowing the papers to fall from her hands and land on the floor in a million pieces. “I’m not. I’m going to go to bed. I’m going to wake up next to you just like always. Because you’re going to come to bed too. Then we get the kids ready and I kiss you goodbye. Just like always.”

“Nat” You reach out for her and it’s her turn to pull away.

“No, we said our vows!” She cries. “We said them and you’re just going to throw them away?” She looks at you with such anger. Such disgust. Pity? “For better or for worse.”

“This is worse, Natasha.” You say with a frustrated sigh.

[kinglivv]

Leaving Her

Kate Stewart x g!n reader

Summary: When you and Kate’s relationship gets rocky, you run away with the Doctor. Four months later, your run in with the Toymaker forces you to confront each other.

Warnings: None

A/N: because not enough attention is paid to the fact that kate uses guns now ALL the time

You find her outside, smoking.

“I thought you’d quit.” You state.

“Yeah well,” she taps away the ash, “we all have our vices.”

You don’t really want to be out here on the helipad with Kate. It’s raining for one, and you’d been managing quite successfully to avoid being left alone with her. However, as the adrenaline of day wore off, you found yourself in desperate need to get out of the command room. The walls were closing in and you hadn’t breathed fresh air in 12 hours.

And there she is.

She’s a vision against the London skyline, blonde hair still somehow perfectly neat and brown eyes still longing, threatening to draw you in.

You remind yourself that you hate her.

You stand next to her for a few silent moments, leaving a healthy distance between you as you regard the view over London.

“You didn’t visit,” she says suddenly.

“Why would I?”

“I just thought…” Kate shakes her head, refusing to look and you and taking another puff. She waves a hand exasperatedly, “It was like you were there one day and gone the next.”

“There was a bit more build up to it than that and you bloody well know it,” you snort. “Late at the office every night. Cancelling our anniversary trip. Forgetting my birthday. It may as well been you who upped and disappeared.”

“You’ve seen my work here. You think I can just abandon it?” she snaps, waving to the building behind. The wind whips around you and her words are carried away.

“You have a second in command, Kate,” you snap back, “You’re allowed to delegate. Have an actual life outside your job.” You want to smack your head against a wall. Months apart and here you were, back again having the same argument you’d had a million times before.

“You knew this wasn’t a normal nine to five when you got with me.”

“Yeah but you changed, Kate,” you almost yell. “Look at you. Where’s the woman who used to take me out to dinner every Friday? Where’s the woman who used to drive me out to the countryside to stargaze? You’re a workaholic.”

“You don’t get to come in here and lecture me after running away with her for the last four months.” She spits.

And there it is. Laid bare. How nights sleeping on the sofa, endless arguments and weeks worrying she was having an affair had culminated in you taking up the Doctor’s invite to travel with her. It was her smile, her humour, her energy, her short blonde hair and brown eyes. If you squinted, the Doctor could be anyone you wanted her to be. You’d packed a bag and left not only your Kate but your planet. It felt like no where was far away enough.

And now the Doctor had regenerated, replaced by someone you didn’t quite recognise anymore, and that had only given you more time to think about all you’d left behind.

“The divorce papers arrived, by the way.” she breaks the silence, “Do you want me to sign them?”

That’s another punch to the gut. Distantly, it strikes you that you haven’t been home in so long that you hadn’t checked your mail. You opt not to answer her.

Neither of you say anything for a moment. Voices carry over from inside the command deck, presumably Ibrahim issuing clean-up orders or the Doctor catching up with his old friends. You shiver in the cold of the helipad. Horns honk in the streets below.

“Since when did you use guns?” You ask quietly, because the silence is agony.

It was something that had been bugging you the minute you got off the TARDIS. Kate Lethbridge Stewart, the woman who was supposed to be reforming UNIT, leading with science and not weapons, had been so eager to whip out a side piece the minute there had been any hint of danger. You’d flinched when she’d so breezily ordered her men to open fire, as if it were a well-rehearsed, familiar line. The woman you’d married had abhorred violence.

Her cigarette struggles in the rain, and she curses under her breath, pulling out her lighter. You watch her, really watch her for the first time that day. You notice the deeper crow lines around her eyes, the hair that isn’t as cropped as she usually preferred it.

“It’s practical,” she eventually offers as explanation.

“I seem to remember you saying you dragged UNIT kicking and screaming to get them to put down their guns.”

“UNIT is a military operation. We’ve always used guns.”

“Yeah but I mean you, Kate.” You reply, “That handgun is new.” You glance at it holstered on her hip.

She shifts self-consciously, shrugging so that her blazer falls over it, obscuring it from your view. It’s a nice blazer. New you think, and it suits her very well. You blink, trying not to get distracted by her figure or that strong hand clutching the cigarette.

“The Colonel and I thought it would be wise for me to carry one after the Cyberman siege on our old office.”

“The one you blew up?”

“Yes,” she laughs bitterly.

“Why now?” You argue, “You’ve seen off the Zygons, the Master, Sontarons. Why start carrying a weapon now?”

She twists her wedding ring. She’s still wearing it you realise, and you look down at your naked fingers in unexpected guilt.

“They tried to convert me,” she confesses. “They were this close to managing it and I only just got away. Had me tied to the chair and everything.”

Your breath catches in your throat. You stare at her, this women who you knew inside and out, who you had dedicated the last three years of your life to. This woman who had seen you cry and laugh. This woman who held you in bed at night and this woman who you had run from. You want to reach out to her, to promise her she’s safe.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You ask instead.

“Didn’t know how,” she shrugs. “Kind of worst case scenario, isn’t it? Nothing compares to a cyberman.”

You silently agree with her. Of all the monsters in the universe you’d come across, none could strike fear into you quite like the metallic, robotic Cybermen could. There was nothing more violating than the prospect of having your emotions stripped away and your body turned into fodder.

“I think I started working longer to stop thinking about it,” she adds. “I mean, there was the big clean-up operation afterwards which took a lot of time, and after that I just found it easier to not stop.”

Shame floods your body. All this time she’d been hurting and you’d abandoned her. You can’t help yourself, you slide an arm around her waist, and then another, pressing your front to her back and burying your face into her shoulder. She still fits in your embrace perfectly, and her hand - the one that isn’t clutching the fag like a rubber ring - cautiously reaches to cover yours.

“I’m sorry Kate,” you murmur. “I should’ve known. I shouldn’t have left you.”

“No,” you feel her shake her head, “God I hate you for it but leaving me forced me look at things. I haven’t been good to you. I am a workaholic. And somewhere along the line I stopped being a wife.”

You blink back tears and press a kiss to her jaw.

“Don’t sign the papers,” you whisper.

[tiredmetalenthusiast]

A Date With Joyous News! John Price x F!reader

This is for @glitterypirateduck John Price writing challenge! Wanted to try doing a longer fic. Scenarios used were 7. ‘Date Night’ and 8. A confession or secret is made, revealed, or discovered’

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, mention of pregnancy, implied NSFW.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The day had started off as a soft morning, slowly waking up to John’s arms wrapped firmly around you and softly snoring. When you both had finally woken up and gotten out of bed he brought up the plans he had for the day.

”How about a night out today, Love?” You giggled and leaned into his shoulder. “John, we're married, you don’t have to try and win me over anymore.” He kissed the top of your head and breathed in your scent, “Well I’m going to anyway. I’m taking you on a date tonight, be ready by 7pm sweetheart.” “Where are we going tonight?” “It’s a surprise.” You nodded and kissed his cheek before the two of you went off to do your daily tasks, excited for the date later on.

6:45pm:

John stood at the mirror trimming his beard to look presentable, from the corner of his eye he spots you in the bathroom. Dressed to the nines and looking just as ravishing as when you both got married. Red dress fitting you in all the right places, makeup dark and seductive, the dark red lipstick doing things to him. “Are you ready to go luv?” You peeked from behind the door and nodded, walking out of the bathroom to grab your heels and purse. He holds out his arm and you take it giggling, as he leads you to the front door of the flat and to the car, letting your arm go to open the door for you. After you had gotten in he went to his own side and the drive to the date began.

Your eyes lit up as you saw the restaurant John had pulled up to. “Really? You got a reservation?!” “I did luv. You’ve mentioned wanting to go here for some time. Let’s go.” He gets out and walks around to your side, opening the door and helping you out. The Maître D’ greets you both upon entrance.

The young man seems nervous, glancing at John before speaking, “How can I help you both today?” “Reservation for 2, Under John Price.” The young man, Sam, checks the list before motioning for the two of you to follow. “This way please. Your table is ready.” Following Sam towards the back of the restaurant, he stops at a table and allows you and John to seat yourselves before handing over two menus. John watches you as you gaze around the restaurant in amazement. 

“The decor is so beautiful! How far ahead did you have to book?” “A few months, but seeing you happy is worth it.” The waitress came, took both of your orders, and went on her way. Dinner came and went, conversation was had, but John had noticed your lack of wine, deciding not to comment.

After dinner the drive home was spent discussing the food and how amazing the service was. “The lemon chicken pasta with alfredo was so good! The sauce was so smooth and had a nice flavor to it! How was your steak? It looked juicy.” “The steak was delicious sweetheart. The meat was tender and well cooked.” John smiled as he watched you beam brightly and gush over the food again, particularly dessert.

Once home you took off your heels with a pleased sigh, groaning low in relief. As you went about your routine to get ready for bed you noticed John standing by the door, shoulder leaning against it as he watched you slip out of your dress. “How about a movie before bed?” “That sounds lovely John.” He leaves to pick out a movie and you head to take off your makeup and change into pjs. Once dressed and noticing that John was changed as well, wearing those sinful gray sweatpants you loved so much and no shirt. You sat with him under the blanket and cuddled into his side, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and you turned his head to give him a kiss, tasting the whiskey he had for dinner. “I love you so much John.” He kisses you back, hand wrapping around the back of your head to hold you there, “I love you too, so much luv.” You smile wider and watch the movie.

Halfway through he brings up the wine, it's your favorite thing to have when you guys go on dinner dates. “Didn’t feel up to the wine tonight?” You stop mid laugh and turn to face him. “Thought I wouldn’t notice? What’s wrong?” “John?” “Yes luv?” “Do you remember when you came back last month? And we had that wonderful, earth shattering sex?” “I do. Dream about it when I’m away. Did something happen? I didn’t hurt you did I?” “No! No nothing like that. Uhm…I just…” “Darling if I did something wrong please let know. I could never live with myself if-…” “John, I'm pregnant!”

He was absolutely stunned into silence. “Pardon?” “I-I mean I’m only a month along but-!” “I’m gonna be a dad? You’re really pregnant?” You nodded nervously, tears starting to well up in the corners of your eyes. “Who else knows?” “I tried calling you but Gaz had answered the phone, saying you were on the line with Kate. Told Gaz all about it.” Price thought for a moment. “Ah guess that would explain his sudden excitement that day.” He hugged you close and kissed you passionately. “So I’m gonna be an actual dad then?” “Baby you’re already an actual dad.” You snickered. “The boys don’t count.” 

You both laughed, falling back onto the cushions to celebrate the wonderful news with a night of steamy passion.

[rosella35]

Kaleb's Bad Day: Part I

*clears throat* It's been a while, G/T community!

I don't get as much time for writing anymore with my uni degree in its final years, but this is a one-shot I've been working on for an obnoxious amount of time now based on a prompt I got a while back: What if Kaleb, my borrower character, shrunk in class?

To set the scene since the last time I updated Borrowed Courage was in 2022 *sobs*, Kaleb and Brooke live in a world where the borrower race was discovered 10 years ago and unbeknownst to humankind, many borrowers use a drug called "Upsize" to temporarily grow to human size and blend into society. This one-shot is canon but probably won't be added to the main story for timing reasons. It's set roughly 2 months after Brooke first discovered Kaleb's secret identity as a borrower.

Part II will be up tomorrow - I hope you like!

Content warning: contains angst, swearing and nudity (not graphic).

****

“Alright. For the rest of today, I want you to work independently through the exercises in chapter two of your textbooks. I’ll be floating around if anyone has any burning questions.” Mr Bell instructed the class. From his seat at the back of the room, Kaleb gritted his teeth in frustration. On any other day, he would be more than happy to follow his teacher’s instructions; learning about human history was one of the things he’d enrolled in school for in the first place. From a young age, Kaleb had been fascinated with the way the giants that owned the world had came to be that way, while his kind— the borrowers— had spent their lives hidden away in the shadows. Today, though, he was only half paying attention. Kaleb ran his hands through his scruffy brown hair, finding it increasingly difficult to ignore the incessant pounding that seemed to reverberate all the way from his skull to his fingertips.  

Something was off. 

It wasn’t uncommon or him to be getting headaches from going consecutive days using Upsize, the drug that allowed him to attend human school at five feet nine instead of five inches tall. Even so, they hardly ever set in this early in the week, and were never an issue unless he was moving around too much. This one felt different. It had barely set in twenty minutes ago and was already driving him crazy. With a pained sigh, Kaleb tried to preoccupy himself with opening his textbook to the designated chapter. It felt weird to consider, since borrowers didn’t get sick nearly as often as humans did, but… maybe he was coming down with something.  

From the seat adjacent, Brooke Tucker glanced up from her own work to frown across at him. “Are you good?” She whispered, leaning forward with her hand on her chin. 

Kaleb immediately stiffened, surprised she’d even noticed his discomfort. Am I that obvious? “I don’t know.” He said uneasily. “My head is killing me.” 

The human girl’s brow creased in concern, an expression she rarely ever directed at him. If he weren’t so distracted by the pain, Kaleb probably would’ve been flattered. “Could be a migraine.” She suggested, before adding in a lower voice. “Do borrowers even get those?”

“Yes, we get migraines.” He whispered back, rolling his eyes. Since she’d discovered Kaleb’s true identity back in September, the human girl had made it her mission to find every opportunity to tease and mock him about being a borrower. Still, Kaleb couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something about this particular headache felt familiar. No way. That’s impossible. He dismissed, turning back to his textbook. “It’s probably nothing.” He assured her.

That was when he felt it.

BADUMP. 

A sudden wave of pain reverberated through his body, making him sit bolt upright in his desk like he’d just stepped on a live wire. It was a sensation Kaleb knew all-too-well, because he’d experienced it every afternoon after school for the past four years. 

His Upsize was about to wear off. 

“Shit.” He hissed, feeling the colour drain from his face. His mind reeled, struggling to make sense of why this was even happening. It was like one of his worst nightmares come to life. He should’ve had more time. He always had more time. Had Rodney messed up his dose? 

Kaleb ground his teeth together, forcing himself to focus. There was no time to dwell on the ‘why’. He had to get out of sight, and fast. 

BADUMP.

The room spun as he was hit with another rapid full-body ache, and Kaleb almost collapsed out of his chair. He felt himself start to shiver uncontrollably, the primal fear of being seen overwhelming his senses. “Kaleb, what the hell’s going on with you?” Brooke’s voice echoed somewhere beside him. “You’re making a scene.” 

Shit-shit-shit-shit-shit. Kaleb didn’t have to look up to know that the whole class was staring at him, a tingling feeling that sent his borrower instincts to flee into overdrive. He glanced across at Brooke, gazing unblinking into her judgemental grey-green eyes like they were his lifeline. In that moment, he made a decision.

“Why’re you staring at me like that, it’s creeping me—”

“Come with me.” Kaleb blurted out. 

That was all the warning Brooke got before he’d clamped his hand around her wrist and launched out of his seat, dragging her along behind him. 

“Sorry Mr Bell, we’ll be right back!” He announced in a rush of adrenalin, practically stumbling out the classroom door. Brooke, who had been too bewildered to react to their sudden exit, finally came to her senses as they entered the empty hallway. She ripped her hand out of his grasp, ears reddening in second-hand embarrassment from what had just gone down.

“What the fuck was that about?” She hissed, though her expression shifted to concern when he leaned heavily against the wall several paces in front of her, clutching his head. For the first time, Brooke noticed the raw, unsuppressed fear in his eyes.  

“I can explai—” Kaleb started, but broke off with a startled yelp when he felt the shrinking process finally kick in. He could only catch a glimpse of Brooke’s startled expression before the ground rushed towards him and he was swallowed up by his human clothes that were suddenly hundreds of sizes too big. Within the span of a few seconds, he found himself back at his original five-inch-tall height and buried beneath the course folds of his t-shirt, chest heaving from the lingering adrenalin and body frozen in terror as the reality of his situation dawned. 

Brooke, having witnessed the whole thing, did a double take. “What in the—” One second Kaleb had been standing there in front of her, and the next… Her eyes fell to his unoccupied pile of clothes, and she swore, realising what had just happened. 

“Kaleb? Brooke? Is everything okay with you two?” She froze at the sound of Mr Bell’s voice from inside the classroom, his footsteps growing closer and closer.

Panicking, Brooke scrambled to scoop up the bundle of Kaleb’s clothes, quickly locating the squirming figure buried within, and shoved them behind herself. The second he felt her fingers close around him and lift him blindly into the air, Kaleb’s heart leapt into his throat. He shivered involuntarily, the sensation of powerful human hands around his entire frame serving as a stark reminder of how little control he had over their current situation. All he could do was make himself as small as possible in her grip and trust Brooke to handle things with the teacher. 

“Y-Yep!” The human girl said, turning around just as the Mr Bell poked his head out the classroom door. Her hands tightened protectively around Kaleb’s smaller form under the clothes, feeling his tiny heartbeat flutter like a bird’s against her fingers. She cleared her throat awkwardly in attempt to compose herself. “I mean… actually, Kaleb wasn’t feeling well. He went ahead to the nurses office, but would you mind if I go too? J-Just to make sure he’s okay.” 

The teacher gave her a strange look, and Brooke held her breath, waiting for him to notice the bundle of Kaleb’s clothes behind her back and effectively blow her cover story. After a moment though, Mr Bell’s expression softened to concern. “Oh, of course you can.” He said with a nod. “I hope he feels better soon. Don’t worry about missing the rest of the lesson. I’ll email the two of you supplementary work later today.”

She managed a strained smile. “Thank you.” 

The moment he disappeared back inside, Brooke took off down the hall, her mind stalling on what she was supposed to do next. There was no way she could actually take Kaleb to the nurses office without exposing him, and it would be too suspicious if she just up and left the building in the middle of class. She cursed. There was really only one place that would give the two of them some privacy, which made her uncomfortable even thinking about, but Brooke didn’t really have a choice. 

Resigned to her fate, she made beeline for the girl’s bathroom. 

Locking herself inside a cubicle, Brooke let out a relieved sigh. She sat down heavily on the closed seat of the toilet, turning her attention to the bundle of Kaleb’s human clothes in her lap and the tiny muffled voice she could suddenly hear through the fabric. “Can’t breathe—!”

Eyes widening, Brooke loosened her hold around the clothes. It seemed silly now, but in her haste to get to somewhere private, she’d almost forgotten that Kaleb had been with her the whole time, buried underneath the layers of denim and cotton.  She was about to reach in to try and pull him out, when she realised that somewhere amongst the folded material, Kaleb was not only borrower-sized but naked. Face heating up at the thought, Brooke sat back against the toilet and cleared her throat awkwardly. “Okay, you’re safe to come out. We’re alone.” 

Sure enough, it wasn’t long after she’d spoken that Brooke noticed a miniature head of scruffy brown hair poking out through the of one of the t-shirt sleeves as Kaleb revealed himself at last. He blinked rapidly in the harsh fluorescent lighting, scrambling to cover himself with his blanket-like clothes. Without his usual shirt and tan jacket combo, he seemed almost smaller than usual, his bare shoulders slim and pale and his breaths short and fast. Fragile was the first word that came to mind. Intuitively, Brooke knew that compared to humans, borrowers really were fragile and vulnerable, but those were never words she’d associated with Kaleb. Now though, he wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that his entire body trembled like a scared animal in her hands. 

That didn’t stop her from glaring daggers at him. “What the fuck, Kaleb!” She hissed. “You almost gave me a heart attack!” 

Kaleb flinched instinctively, his hazel eyes shooting up to meet her now much larger grey ones. Brooke’s angry expression faltered. Shit. He looked terrified— even more so than the time she’d found him on the apartment roof all those weeks ago. She swallowed, turning away uncomfortably. That look in his eyes… It didn’t suit him at all. 

The two of them didn’t speak for several minutes, awkward silence permeating the cubicle. Kaleb took that time to try and compose himself, his full-body tremors slowly dissipating as he tried to calm his pounding heart. It wasn’t easy to do by any means, but he appreciated Brooke’s patience. Finally finding his voice, he tilted his head to meet her eyes. 

“S-Sorry.” He said, holding the material of his shirt around his nude frame with white knuckled hands. He licked his dry lips. “No one saw… did they?”

Brooke sighed, making a conscious effort to shift to a gentler tone of voice. Now probably wasn’t the time for their usual teasing banter. “No.” She reassured him. “Just me.” 

Kaleb visibly relaxed at that, minuscule shoulders slumping under the thick material of his shirt. “Thank god.” He breathed, almost too quiet for her to make out. So he hadn’t been seen by anyone else in the class. Just knowing that was enough to ease a significant portion of his built up anxiety. With a clearer head, Kaleb finally paused to take in his surroundings, and his jaw immediately dropped when he caught sight of a toilet roll as long as he was tall. “What the—” He exclaimed, looking up at her with an aghast expression. “Is this the girl’s bathroom—?!” 

Brooke held back a snort as his tiny face turned beet red with embarrassment. Much more like the Kaleb she knew. “You didn’t exactly give me much time to think of a better place to go.” She pointed out, sitting up straighter on the toilet seat. “And while we’re on that topic, what the hell happened to you? Isn’t your wonder drug supposed to last the whole day?” 

Kaleb flinched at that and peered down at his smaller form, pathetically dwarfed by the clothes that had fit him perfectly less than ten minutes ago. Already, without the disguise that was his human height, he was starting to feel like the fraud he was; just another borrower trying and failing to carry himself with the same level of confidence and liberty as a human. “I-I don’t know.” He mumbled. “Maybe my uncle messed up the dose.” He wrapped the the fabric of his shirt sleeve tighter around himself, feeling more exposed than ever. “This has never happened to me before.” 

“Clearly.” Brooke said. “If I hadn’t been there to cover for you, you’d’ve been screwed for sure.” 

She felt him shiver at that fact, almost making her regret her choice of words. “You’re right.” Kaleb looked up at her again, his expression earnest. “Thank you, Brooke. Really.” 

Brooke blinked. That was unexpected. She shifted in her seat and looked away, hoping he wouldn’t notice her blush. With their current size difference, that was unlikely. “I-It’s fine.” She said. “So, uh… what now, then? Do you have any more Upsize you can take?” 

Kaleb pursed his lips. “I don’t keep any spare pills at school.” He admitted quietly, shuddering again despite the course fabric around him. “With Upsize, you need to wait at least an hour after shrinking before you can take another dose. It’s supposed to give the medicine a chance to leave your system, kind of like a cool-down period.”

“Right, of course that’s a thing.” Brooke sighed. She tried racking her brain for an alternative solution. “Well then, can someone come get you? Surely Evie would. I bet she’s bored out of her mind back at the apartment without having me to spy on.” 

Instead of laughing at her poor attempt at a joke, Kaleb looked horrified. “I can’t just leave early!” He exclaimed. “I’ll miss maths next period. Mrs Crowley said she’d be giving out final exam tips today!” 

Brooke couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You’re kidding.” She started, holding back a disbelieving laugh. Looking closer at his tiny, pleading features though, her smile faded. “You’re not kidding.” She deadpanned, groaning. “Come on, Kaleb. How the fuck are you supposed to come to class like this? You don’t even have any clothes!”

Kaleb’s cheeks heated up and he pulled the shirt sleeve a little tighter around himself as he was reminded of his current nudity. “I can get clothes.” He insisted, his usual confident demeanour returning in full force. “I have a spare set in my locker. Climbing gear, too.” 

Brooke would have face palmed herself if her hands weren’t still cupped around his tiny frame. She regarded him quizzically. “Well that’s great, but isn’t your whole thing supposed to be not getting seen by the rest of the class?” 

Kaleb shook his head. “I don’t have to actually come to class. You could just, y’know, let me off into the air vent and I can listen in from there.” He suggested, giving her a clumsy shrug from amongst the bundle of clothes. 

Brooke just stared down at him, completely lost for words. “You’re crazy.” She muttered. “You’re actually fucking crazy. You literally almost shrunk in front of our whole class, and now you want me to just let you go off into the walls so you can catch some stupid exam tips?” 

“Brooke.” 

She didn’t hear him, her voice rising in annoyance as she continued. “And then what? Am I supposed to just stay back and look for you after class, like that’s totally not suspicious at all?!”

“Brooke.” 

“Ugh!” She wanted so badly to bang her head into the cubicle door. “Why do I even get myself into these situations? I swear, ever since I found out about you and your stupid little secret, my life’s been a fucking disaster—!”

“BROOKE!”

She broke off with a start at his exclamation, caught off guard by how loud he’d managed to sound despite his obvious disadvantage in size. Brooke bit her lip, breathing heavily through her nose. She almost jumped when she felt a slight pressure on her thumb. Kaleb had reached out to touch it with his much smaller hand, stroking the digit in attempt to reassure her. “You good?” He asked. 

“Y-Yeah.” Brooke replied weakly, her mouth dry. She didn’t want to say anything but the feeling of his tiny hand on her finger felt so… weird. Kaleb almost never initiated physical contact with her when he was borrower-sized.  

He nodded, meeting her eyes again. “I’m sorry.” He said with obvious embarrassment. “I got a bit ahead of myself there. I guess I just thought you’d want me out of your hair so you could get back to class. If you can help me to my locker, I’ll call Evie to come pick me up, and I’ll just email Mrs Crowley about the exam later.” 

Brooke sighed at his words, a much simpler solution coming to mind that she was probably crazy for even suggesting. “Or you could just come with me.” She pointed out, the corner of her mouth twitching in amusement when he blinked up at her. “What? Did you forget we have the same maths class?” 

“Come… with you?” Kaleb repeated, looking thoroughly unconvinced. “As in, on your person? Where would I even go—?” His broke off, eyes trailing upwards to the chest pocket of her oversized denim jacket at the same time hers did. His face lost several shades of colour, and he shook his head firmly, despite knowing deep down that he might not have any say in the matter. “No way. No way. I’m not gonna sit in your pocket all day like some house pet, Brooke! That’s just… that’s just embarrassing!” 

The human girl smirked down at him. “Well, would it be any more embarrassing than being tiny and naked in the girl’s bathroom?” Her hand inched up to ruffle his hair teasingly. “I mean, unless you’re secretly a pervert?” 

Kaleb swiped at her already retreating digit. “I’m not a pervert!” He snapped, pointing his own diminutive finger up at her accusingly. “You brought me here, not the other way around!”  

“Relax, I’m just messing with you.” She giggled. “You’re always so easy to work up like this.” 

Kaleb bristled. “Yeah, well can you blame me? When I’m like this, there’s five extra feet of you to piss me off!”

“Fair point.” Brooke smirked. “So, what’s it gonna be then?” Her hands edged closer around him, as she impatiently tapped her foot against the tiles. “I can’t just keep sitting on the toilet for the rest of the day.”

Kaleb sighed, turning his gaze downwards in defeat. He had to admit she was right about that. Stalling was only prolonging what they both knew had to come next. “Fine. I’ll come to class with you.” He hesitated. “Just… can we please get my clothes first?” 

Brooke looked at him, shock evident on her face. Did he really believe that she wouldn’t let him get changed? It was humbling to think that with Kaleb like this, without his bag or climbing gear, he was essentially putting his life and his autonomy in her hands. Just knowing that made Brooke soften her voice ever so slightly. “Um, yeah, of course. There’s no way you’re coming with me in the nude. That’s fucked up.” 

Kaleb breathed a sigh of relief at her reassurance, offering a grateful smile. “Okay… Well, in the meantime, could you grab me a piece of toilet paper? To cover up, I mean.” 

Brooke blinked, glancing across at the roll beside her. Hesitantly, she tore off a small strip of toilet paper between her thumb and index finger and handed it down to him. Kaleb took it, ducking under his sleeve for a moment to tie it around his waist like a towel. He looked down at his handiwork, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’ll do.” He muttered to himself, letting the oversized shirt sleeve fall away so that he was standing at his full five-inch height in her cupped hands.  

Despite herself, Brooke almost did a double take when she saw his bare chest for the first time. There was no denying it; Kaleb was ripped. The thought had never occurred to her, but considering his active lifestyle, she really shouldn’t have been as caught off guard as she was. A little more of a tan, and he could’ve belonged in a body building magazine. She tore her eyes away before he caught her staring, but that didn’t stop her cheeks from heating up. 

She coughed. “Right. Ready to go then?”

“That depends.” Kaleb smirked knowingly. There was really no way he could have missed a stare that size. He took a bold step forward in her cupped hands and flexed his muscles tauntingly. “Did you want a closer look?” 

“W-What?”

“Who’s the pervert now, huh?” He teased, throwing the label right back at her.

“Shut up!” In that embarrassment-riddled moment, Brooke reacted in the only way she could think of. She poked Kaleb harshly in the chest. Like always, he staggered backwards with a yelp at the impact, but this time neither of them had taken proper stock of their surroundings. As if in slow-motion, Kaleb tripped over the folded clothing behind him, simultaneously jostling free the poorly secured knot holding up his toilet paper toga. All hope of modesty gone, he fell flat on his back with his legs gracelessly splayed… within full view of the human girl holding him. 

The two of them stared at each other in silent shock for several seconds, and Brooke wished she could bleach her eyeballs. Instead, she opted for the next best course of action.

“AHHHH!”

[seethesin]

having a one night stand with shane

pairing: Shane McCutcheon x F!Reader

tags/warnings: sexual content, clubbing, fingering, cunnilingus (mdni, 18+)

a/n: don't mind me being 19 years late to this party! i recently finished the l word and goddamn, shane mccutcheon would be a fantastic lay :) hope you enjoy my stream of consciousness headcanon. gif credit

It's Alice that brings the two of you together

She's so tired of you whining over your recent breakup

She can barely get a word in anymore when the two of you hang out

You complain over coffee at the Planet

You bitch when you come over to her apartment

Your constant nagging does not stop for days on end

Finally, she breaks, calling Shane and begging her to come out to the Hit Club to meet you

Alice makes a point to stress that she has a good-looking, recently single friend who simply needs something other than this failed relationship to harp over

Shane, the loyal friend she is, obliges

It's Saturday night and Alice practically drags you out of your one-bedroom to go out with her and Tasha

You can't say no; any reason to support Kit and Helena is enough for you

Even with all your moping, you dress to the nines and go with the duo to the club

The music is good, the drinks are flowing, and finally, a genuine smile is permanently plastered across your face

Shane seems to materialize next to you as soon as you polish down your first drink

Alice is glowing—neither you nor Tasha misses it—as she pulls Shane into a hug before hurrying her over toward you

She rapid fires through introductions, extremely interested in getting you both settled before completely taking off with Tasha

You can't even take the time to appreciate Shane's fitted blazer, dark skinny jeans, long fingers—

Okay, maybe you did have enough time to appreciate her attributes before Alice abandoned you

The thought leaves your head entirely as the gravity of this situation begins to settle

Both you and Shane are left in the middle of the dance floor, stunned as other patrons bounce and bump into you

Shane's the first to recover, offering to buy you a beer which you gladly accept to break the tension

The rest of the night goes without any hiccups

You notice that Shane isn't much of a dancer unless convinced otherwise, and you find yourself taking advantage of that

You sway together and with feigned innocence, you find yourself grinding against her more obviously

Shane seems to get the message and presses you against her chest, allowing your hips to rock against her groin

Her mouth is on your neck and her hands splay across your stomach as the two of you dance

Her touch drives you crazy

From what feels like an amalgamation of all the sexual tension from tonight, the two of you reach the same conclusion at the same time:

"Wanna get out of here?"

Hell yes you do

You find Alice and Tasha on the other side of the club and say your goodbyes

You pretend not to see the couple's sneers as you and Shane leave

Eagerly, you pile into Shane's Jeep so she can take you back home

The two of you are a whirlwind of wet kisses and inquisitive fingers, taking turns stripping and fondling each other

You barely make it to your bedroom, but through sheer willpower alone, the two of you make it to the bedroom

Shane’s fingers are already working on the waistband of your underwear

They’re replaced with two of her fingers sheathed inside of you while the heel of her hand drags circles into your clit

The initial shock of realizing how wet you were for her to jam two fingers into you so easily is replaced with an intense, unwavering pleasure

It continues to build as Shane fucks you and it doesn’t take long for you to forget about your breakup

Perhaps it’s because of how responsive you are, but suddenly she bows her head down, lips ghosting your ear and husks:

“You like that, huh?” while pounding into you

The coil in your stomach snaps and you’re cumming on her hand, babbling that yes, you absolutely love it

Shane lets you ride her fingers as the aftershocks of your orgasm hit

But as soon as you collect yourself, she’s sinking lower, dragging her fingertips down your torso

Her mouth latches onto your pussy: sucking, licking, and kissing every inch of velvety skin she could access

The next wave of orgasms hit sooner than expected, but all you can focus on is canting your hips towards Shane’s mouth

Once you're coherent, you want nothing more than to return the favor

Shane's laughing as she lets you shove her into the mattress, welcoming your curious hands on top of her breasts and your mouth all over her cunt

You feel her thighs clench against your face, holding you steady as you work through her folds

Her fingers are threaded in your hair, yanking you forward as you continue to swirl tight circles on her clit

She lasts a little longer than you and is a little quieter, but she falls apart to her orgasm the same way you did earlier

You kiss once more before hitting the mattress, staring up at the ceiling as you wipe your chin clean

It doesn't take long for Shane to recoup and she wastes no time pulling her clothes on

You follow suit, straightening yourself up before gathering up your outfit pooled on the floor

Before she leaves, she throws you a smirk before saying:

"That was fun; I wouldn't mind doing it again some time"

You agree; you couldn't remember the last time someone made you feel this good

You make sure to let Alice know just how incredible she is the next day for introducing you to Shane

Alice, however, realizes the grave mistake she's made in orchestrating last night

Now, you have someone new to prattle on about: Shane McCutcheon

[not-that-syndrigast]

The Kimi Antonelli strategy

With Lewis Hamilton leaving Mercedes and the silly season being in full force all year long, one name has become big like no other; freshly eighteen year old Kimi Antonelli. After Toto Wolff, Mercedes team has practically admitted Antonelli would fill the second Mercedes seat next year, there are quite a few questions and talks around him. Why not put him in the Williams for a season? What does Mercedes see in him? And most importantly; What is their plan for the future?

Let's start out with the easiest one; Why not put him in the Williams first? 

A lot of people forget that Williams is not the junior Mercedes team, but their own independent team. While most Mercedes drivers have come from Williams, that is mere coincidence. Unlike Red Bull with Vcarb, Mercedes and Williams don’t work together besides the engine. To compare, let me explain Red Bull GmbHs strategy; both teams get funded from the same company, Red Bull GmbH, which results in the two teams being incredibly close. Oracle Red Bull racing, the ‘real’ team is supposed to bring in championships and wins, while Vcarb is supposed to be a midfield team to figure out future talents for the first team. The upside of this is, that even if Vcarb does not win and does not perform, they still get funded, as long as they work as a junior team, but that's a problem for another time. Williams does not get funded by Mercedes and does not profit by Mercedes winning, they are not one brand and Mercedes most likely does not want them as a junior team in the case of Antonelli;

First of all, the Williams car is bad. Even an experienced driver like Albon, who showed he can drive for podiums and probably even wins in a good car, has to scrape for points. This weekend in Zandvoort, the car seemed to be better. Only for him to get disqualified because it's illegal. I think my point is pretty obvious here. Currently, Williams are rumored to be thinking about replacing Sargeant and since the Williams has no open seats for Antonelli next year, with Sainz in the second seat, some people think Antonelli should get the last nine races as experience for next year in the Mercedes, but Toto Wolff has clearly stated that would not happen. 

As mentioned, the Williams car is bad, so he would not get as much experience as one would expect but even worse, his confidence would be destroyed and people would only see him place 20th because nothing else is possible in the car and fault Antonelli. Furthermore, Mercedes has a clear strategy with Antonelli which would not be allowed anymore; they try to give him experience in F1 cars, by letting him test old Mercedes cars in many testing days. It’s one of the strategies that are claimed to have helped Piastri get as good as he is right now, with not as much experience in grand prixs but many in testing. If Antonelli would compete now, though, he would not be able to test these older Mercedes cars anymore. Last but not least, he still drives in F2 and Mercedes and Toto Wolff most likely want to avoid ruining his confidence by throwing him in a car he is not used to. 

To the next question; What does Mercedes see in him?

A lot of people are confused; Antonelli is only seventh in the F2 standings and is being beaten by other drivers who are also rookies. I’ve talked about it before; F2 is not as fair as people think it to be. Antonelli has one of the most prestigious junior careers, sadly many of those categories are pretty new, so it's not comparable with F1 drivers, but if you compare him to other current F2 and F3 drivers, he has the most titles by winning a bunch of different series, like the italian F4 and ADAC F4, in the same year and also the motorsport games F4 cup and although i still do not quite understand what exactly that is, he did win with a broken wrist, which is a feat in itself. He also won the formula regional middle east championship and FRECA. The whole point is, he did all of that in two years, was a rookie in quite a few of these categories and would have most likely won F3 by a margin. He is one of the most promising young drivers and all of these things still exclude the extensive private testing Mercedes has made him do. Only considering that he has made multiple, I'm convinced his times are good. His results may not seem as bright in F2, but you need to keep in mind that Mercedes themselves are aware of the engine problems in F2 and can evaluate a good driver far better than any fan.

Last but not least; What is their plan for the future?

Some people still think Antonelli is too young and Mercedes should take another driver for a year, let Antonelli do a second season in F2 and give him more experience, but that would be most likely a waste of a seat for a full year. If you compare Sargeant and Piastri, the last two rookies that have made it to F1, you’ll see that even though Piastri has done what's now FRECA, F3 and F2 in three years, he doesn’t lack as much as experience as Sargeant does, because as mentioned multiple times, Piastri did testing in old F1 cars and got put into an F1 seat. No matter how many years drivers do in lower categories, they will need a bit of adjustment time and my guess is for Mercedes that they want to get Antonelli adjusted to the car in ‘25 so that they can focus on the championship in ‘26. 

I think the situation around Antonelli is quite interesting and I hope that by bringing him in, Mercedes will start the trend again of trusting young drivers even in good cars. In recent years, most young drivers had to go through midfield teams before even getting the chance in a good car, but with the cost cap, many midfield teams don’t want to dare getting young drivers anymore that are more expensive.

But I would really like to hear what others think of Mercedes' strategy; will they be able to get him good as quickly as it was managed with Piastri? Or will his situation turn out closer to Sargeants? As always, I'd love comments on the matter.

[mariacallous]

Even Israel’s friends overseas often have trouble understanding its conduct in the Israel-Hamas war and its ancillary conflicts with Hezbollah, Iran, and the Houthis. While some may be forgiving about the high numbers of civilian casualties as an inevitable part of urban warfare, it is harder for many to swallow Israel’s reluctance to allow enough humanitarian aid to reach Gaza or its seeming indifference to the massive collateral deaths involved in rescuing hostages and targeting Hamas leaders. Many are mystified by Israel’s willingness to risk what could be a devastating war with Lebanon’s Hezbollah or Iran. The back-to-back assassinations at the end of July of senior Hezbollah commander Fuad Shukr and Hamas political leader Ismail Haniyeh were unusual displays of state violence by the standards of any government, much less one that regards itself as a liberal democracy.

Israel has traditionally taken an aggressive military stance toward its enemies. But in the 10 months since the outbreak of the war in Gaza it has become more lethal than ever—killing some 40,000 people in Gaza alone. Israel’s harshest critics assert that its purpose is to destroy the last vestiges of Palestinian nationalism—or worse, to commit genocide against Palestinians. But the real explanation for the change is more complicated.

The aim of Israel’s ultra-nationalist right is, in fact, to make life unbearable for Palestinians in Gaza and the West Bank. However, only a small minority of Israelis hold such extreme views, and the far-right ministers who echo them have little or no say over war policy. Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has been careful to keep that under his personal control with a handful of like-minded officials.

Where the extreme right does have an impact—and mostly an indirect one—is on humanitarian issues. Far-right leaders don’t have so much a war strategy as a desire to see Palestinians suffer and for the war to go on. Anxious to ensure that the extreme right remains in the governing coalition, Netanyahu has bent to their will by taking a tough line on cease-fire negotiations and has only enabled sufficient humanitarian aid to reach Gaza when international pressure left him no choice. As Finance Minister Bezalel Smotrich, the leader of the rightist Religious Zionist Party, told a conference of rightists on Aug. 5, he would have no problem allowing the people of Gaza to starve. “We bring in aid because there is no choice,” he explained by way of an apology to his audience.

National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir has allowed inhumane conditions at the Sde Teiman detention facility for Palestinians arrested in the war to fester by refusing to move inmates to the civilian facilities under his control. He called nine soldiers suspected of sexually abusing a prisoner at Sde Teiman “our best heroes” and may have told police to back off when rightist extremists tried to block their arrest by military police last month.

To a degree, a desire for punishment and revenge is shared by the troops in Gaza, including the vast majority who have no use for the extreme right. The atrocities of Oct. 7, which remain very much alive in the Israeli consciousness, have inevitably left many soldiers at best indifferent to Palestinian suffering and at worst out for revenge. The military advocate general, Maj. Gen. Yifat Tomer-Yerushalmi, said in June that she was investigating some 70 cases of alleged wrongdoing, and that is only the tip of the iceberg.

Some observers contend that Israelis have become more violent, or at least more tolerant of violence. Certainly, among extremist settlers violence toward Palestinians has grown and is regarded as a legitimate tool to further their political ends. But even among settlers, they represent a small minority. Overall, the rate of violent crime in Israel is low by developed-country standards and until last year had been falling.

In all events, the actions of soldiers on the ground in Gaza don’t explain what is clearly a change in Israeli policy at the top. Here, the decisions made by Israel’s political and military leaders to order assassinations, bomb the Houthi-controlled port of Hodeidah at a cost of 80 Yemeni lives for one Israeli, or risk war with Iran reflect a new realpolitik.

In the wake of their momentous victory in the 1967 Arab-Israeli War, Israelis had gradually come to feel that their country’s existence was no longer imperiled. It was a gradual process that developed as one Arab country after another either reached peace agreements with Israel and acknowledged its existence (Egypt, Jordan, the United Arab Emirates, Bahrain, and Morocco) or lost the capability to mount a war (Syria). Normalization with Saudi Arabia looked to be on the horizon. The rise of the high-tech economy, growing foreign investment, and two decades of buoyant economic growth that turned Israel into a powerful and prosperous economy seemed to confirm that. The talk turned into how to “contain” the Palestinian conversation because no solution was needed.

This Weltanschauung had practical effects. From the early 1990s, defense spending as a share of gross domestic product declined. Of the three pillars of its defense strategy—victory in war, deterrence, and intelligence—Israel abandoned the first, allowed the second to erode, and therefore became overly reliant on the third. From the 1980s, Israel’s wars with unconventional forces never ended in decisive victory. With that, Israel’s ability to deter its enemies waned, as evidenced by Hamas’s willingness to repeatedly go to war with Israel from 2008 on. In place of decisive victory and effective deterrence, Israel came to rely more and more on defensive measures—walls, fences, and high-tech early-warning systems.

Israel paid a steep price for these policies on Oct. 7. Even if it quickly turned back the Hamas attack, Iran and its proxies appreciated the magnitude of the intelligence and organizational failure. Hezbollah began attacks over Israel’s northern border just a day later and the Houthis were soon firing missiles and drones at Red Sea shipping and Israel itself. In April, Iran crossed a red line in its long-running conflict with Israel by staging for the first time a direct missile and drone attack rather than using proxies.

The “total victory” that Netanyahu promises is unlikely to ever be achieved against Hamas, much less against Hezbollah or Iran. Restoring Israel’s deterrent ability is a more realistic goal, but not a painless one. Facing non-state actors with an ideological commitment to ending Israel’s existence, it is not enough to demonstrate effective defensive capabilities. It requires a willingness to strike out even in response to relatively small provocations and to go on the offensive.

For policymakers and public opinion in the United States and Europe, Israel’s recent actions seem dangerous and disproportionate, and there is no denying they risk sparking a regional war. But Israel doesn’t have very good choices. Despite its image as an always-triumphant military power, it is worthwhile remembering that Israel is a small country in terms of population, geography, and economy. It cannot afford to be taken by surprise, fight long wars, or maintain a heightened defense posture indefinitely. Israel now fully appreciates that for every new friend it has in the region, it has an implacable enemy. The Middle East remains a tough place.

The ordinary Israeli isn’t party to the calculations behind restoring deterrence. Public opinion nevertheless backs the country’s newly aggressive stance for more existential reasons.

The Hamas attack of Oct. 7 did not pose a fundamental threat to Israel, but its psychological impact was profound. For Israelis, the images of terrorists engaged in an orgy of murder, rape, and kidnapping were a tangible reminder that the threat to Israel’s existence was not idle talk by its enemies and that the consequences of even a brief moment of failure to secure the country’s borders would be severe. The months of pummeling of the country’s north by Hezbollah rockets, drones, and anti-tank missiles and the Iranian missile barrage in April have given Israelis a taste of how the end may come.

Yossi Klein Halevi captured the new national mood in a recent Wall Street Journal op-ed: “Even as we maintain the pretense of daily life, a part of us is permanently alert. We tell ourselves that we’re steady and joke about the apocalypse, because that’s the Israeli way. But during one recent sleepless night, I literally jumped when a passing motorcycle sounded like an explosion.”

Opinion surveys bear that out. An Israel Democracy Institute poll found that those expressing optimism about the future of Israel’s national security had dropped from close to 47 percent in November 2023, when the war in Gaza appeared to be going well, to 31 percent in June. Another recent survey by the Institute for National Security Studies showed that just a quarter of Israelis have a high or very high sense of personal security.

Israel faces a unique threat among nations at war or threatened with it. Russian President Vladimir Putin and Chinese President Xi Jinping would like to erase Ukraine and Taiwan, respectively, from the map, but neither wants to destroy or expel the Ukrainian or Taiwanese people. Not that life would likely be pleasant under their rule, but the Ukrainians or Taiwanese would be allowed to remain in their homes and live their lives, albeit as Russian and Chinese citizens. These are (or will be) wars of empire and conquest. Israel faces the threat of existence. For a time, Israelis thought otherwise—they no longer do.

[captainimprobable]

ok look ive been like. really good at avoiding crashing out considering. everything. but if youll allow me just a little baby crashout id appreciate it!

my life is a joke lmaooo my medication no longer works. Which means my narcolepsy has become incredibly disabling. I feel sick almost every day, I take 2-3 naps a day, I can only drive at certain times, I can't really have a social life anymore, and I had to cut down on hours at work which means im working 12 a week. 12. A week. I am making minimum wage.

Do you know how much money that is? It's a very small amount. Once I get certified as a barista, I'll make, wait for it...a whole extra dollar an hour. It can take A YEAR to get certified. And the process requires traveling to the city at least 3 times, unpaid, taking a two hour class, doing a written exam, and multiple practicals. All this. For a single extra dollar. Meanwhile, I'll be DOING ALL THE BARISTA WORK. But I can't get the extra buck until im OFFICIALLY certified.

And it just hit me today, as I was taking the ridiculously difficult written exam, how humiliating and dehumanizing this is.

I am 31 fucking years old. THIRTY ONE. And this is my life. I'm living in my childhood bedroom, in a borderline toxic environment, in the neighborhood that has made me feel like shit since I was a kid, isolated from the world bc I have a total of one friend still living here too.

I feel like I've been running on a treadmill through molasses for years. Since I'm only working two days right now, the other days of the week are now dedicated to content creation, which I've claimed as my second part time job. The payoff for this is almost nothing. Right now I'm making about the same amount in a month as I am in a day at the coffee shop. I feel like a loser. I feel like a failure. I feel like I did something wrong, I feel like there has to be a way for me to get rid of the life i have and trade it for another one, but there isn't. And I've been so good. I've been so positive. Even though I feel like shit every day I've been working my ass off for tiktok and literally anything i need to do. But my savings are almost gone because I got into a car accident and had to fix the car. I have a lot of great things in my life but I don't WANT to downplay everything, I don't WANT to be positive, I want to be allowed to admit that things suck SHIT right now and ITS NOT FUCKING FAIR. I hate myself, I hate who I am, I hate this sick person who is always STUPID from brain fog, I hate this dumb bitch who can't stay awake for long enough to go out with friends. I hate this jackass who has to seriously consider if it's ok for me to get a book I've been wanting for a YEAR because it costs money. I hate that I need to take my cat to the vet for her yearly checkup and I've been avoiding it because there goes more of my savings.

I hate working retail. I hate being treated like a robot NPC every day for nothing. I hate that I had so many plans for my future and now they're all impossible because I have the TOO SLEEPY DISEASE. I hate spending every day in bed, and not feeling good enough for anyone in my life because I don't really have one. I hate that I graduated college NINE YEARS AGO and I still don't have a full time job and I still live at home and I STILL CAN'T FUCKING SUPPORT MYSELF. WHEN AM I GOING TO BE ALLOWED TO START MY LIFE? WHEN IS IT GONNA BE MY TURN???? WHAT DID I DO WRONG???? I have to go to sleep soon to be up at 6am for my job and I don't know how I can walk in there tomorrow feeling the way I do. But what choice to I have? I need the miniscule amount of money it's going to give me. I'M SO ANGRY and I'm tired of being jealous of everyone else and I'm sick of being depressed and anxious and I don't understand what the point even is right now!!!!!! What is all this for??? I'm not making enough to save up, and my new meds won't come in for months...so what am i working towards??? ANYTHING???? Am I going to be here forever????? i want to run to the middle of the street and scream but you know what? i dont even have the fucking energy. maybe tomorrow ill pretend this isnt bothering me again. maybe ill pretend to be fine because what other choice do i have? so this is my single allotted breakdown. thank you for joining me.

[visicnsofalife]

• • ( TAYLOR RUSSELL. TWENTY-NINE. CIS FEMALE. SHE/HER. ) in texas, DARLENE WYMAN is known to most as DARLING. they have been riding with the reapers for EIGHT YEARS. they’re originally from STRATFORD and the TREASURER is known to be very ABRASIVE & ALOOF but the other club members will tell you they are SEDULOUS & RESILIENT. as the years go by, they’ve gained a lot of respect in the club and around town. they’re usually at STRATFORD ELEMENTARY working as a TEACHER. they rarely ever drive a car but when they do BURNING by YEAH YEAH YEAHS is usually heard blasting. ( the smell of the woods after it rains , face half in the shadows and half in the light , a smile that feels like she just signed off on your death )

STATS.

full name : darlene evelyn wayman

birthday : january 20th , 1996

gender + pronouns : cis female she/her

sexuality : bisexual

affiliation : reapers

BIO.

darlene was the first and only child of mrs. and mr. wyman in stratford , tx .

her father , an enforcer for the reapers whom recently stepped back due to a lupis diagnosis .

her parents kept her shadowed about the reapers growing up . in fact , they kept her in the shadows of just about everything . no electronics . one hour of tv time . one treat a night . a rigid schedule , monitored with an eagle eye by her mother . no time to play with the neighbors . but it didn't bother her . she didn't know any better .

that changed when darlene started middle school . a great game of soccer in gym class convinced by her teacher to try out for the team . on her hands and knees begging her parents . only if you're great they told her . the wymans don't do anything halfway . it was all or nothing .

so she got good . in fact , she got great . she was a starter on the varsity team by her freshman year . she went to school , got perfect grades , won her soccer matches and went home .

her life was turned upside and inside out when she met a boy - jeremiah . some guy hanging around the bleachers at a game . she couldn't explain it , but she was drawn to his dark gaze . he walked her to her car . it was innocent . completely innocent . at first .

it escalated quickly . he was her first boyfriend . darlene was a stranger to love , confusing it with control . soccer practice became dates with jeremiah . after school clubs were more time with jeremiah . study time with classmates became time with jeremiah . he consumed her vision , everything disappeared as she fell deeper and deeper into his desires . a puppet , no longer for her parents but for her proclaimed soulmate .

darlene had been perfect , her parents not catching on . not catching on to the clothes piled in a suitcase beneath her bed . the piggybanks that were suddenly emptied . darlene was going to run away with jeremiah to a golden oasis where she could be free . free from pressure and expectations . free to explore who she was .

things changed shortly before her graduation . one misstep , eyes darting to jeremiah and not the ball . on the ground , the world going black with pain . she tore her acl . her soccer career was over .

it didn't go unnoticed . her father , trained to pay attention , saw . she was grounded during her recovery . her phone monitored . the miles on her car recorded . she wasn't allowed to see him anymore . but they found ways around her parents' gag order . sneaking in and out while they were fast asleep .

after graduation . they were going to escape . she finally regained her parents trust , being the picture of perfection . they were leaving for the weekend . some kind of work trip , but darlene didn't pry . it was perfect timing .

midnight on the dot , she was on the corner . waiting and waiting and waiting . 1am . 2am . 3am . 4am . 5am . finally going home when the sun began to rise , worried sick about jeremiah .

the house was emptied . her mother's jewelry gone . her father's guns as well .

he yelled and she comforted her only daughter , head in her lap , stroking her hair and wiping away the tears . in those small acts of kindness , darlene gave up . she would do what her mother wanted without protest .

she studied at community college to get a teaching license , and slowly became privy to her father's work . eventually , she joined the reapers as the treasurer , to help keep the money straight . her parents vouched that they could trust darlene , and she has been perfect for the past eight years . she has no reason not to be . without soccer , she had to find another way to make her parents proud .

PERSONALITY.

darlene is quiet and rude and keeps to herself . the nickname darling came only out of irony . she doesn't trust anyone , can't ever let anyone in to let herself get hurt again . she listens to her parents and keeps her head down , just minding her own business and keeping a low profile . she has a big heart and she wants to help people and provide support for the growing generation , so they can succeed in the ways that she can't . but she won't let anyone except her students see that . she is all business , no nonsense . truthfully , she feels empty , a hollow shell , emptied out by parents who saw her only for her usefulness and value but not her core . her only love crushed whatever was left , so she learned to keep to herself and work hard , quietly accepting her fate . very dedicated to everything she does and loyal to a fault for the reapers .

WCS.

reapers : ones who like to tease her and try to penetrate her shell , those who hate her for her sullen nature , those here trust her , an almost friend - quiet comraderie etc

diablos : enemies <3

childhood classmates : people who knew darlene Before and saw that change in her . can't stand her , want to help her , etc

i don't have many wcs but would love to brainstorm :)

[onthepyre]

Hi June! No.1 for the prompt meme if you feel inspired? 💖

hi calli!! thanks for dropping in <3 this is kind of loosely the "dirtiest white boy in america" period but honestly. fuck if i know. it's sad though

send me a number and ill write something angsty

1 - keeping things from the other to spare their feelings

Sometimes Dad had to bail, Mickey knew. When they were little kids, not smart enough to keep their traps shut, he and Mandy got dragged along, lying in the backseat, her head in his lap. Perks of being the youngest two, Mickey guesses. Seeing Indiana before they turned six. By the time Mom was gone, they were told to keep their heads down and wait it out while Dad fucked off to who-knows-where. It sucked, but it sucked less than having him home. It was tolerable.

When the pigs started sniffing around the Alibi, Dad got itchy. They were just around to "ask questions," but the proximity was enough. He had a bag packed in ten minutes, four loaded handguns tucked under dirty underwear and ratty cutoffs. It was damn near a rampage, but Mickey didn't have the sixth sense his siblings did that told them to get the fuck out of dodge. He didn't even realize the depth of shit he was in until Dad pitched a backpack at him and asked what the fuck he was standing around with his thumb up his ass for.

Arguing was useless. If he ran now, Mickey would be dead when Dad inevitably made it back to Chicago. So he took the backpack and stuffed it with a change of clothes and a handful of knives and cash, tucking his busted flip phone into a wad of underwear. In case he needed it, Mickey told himself. So he could contact Mandy if they were gonna be gone long. Not Ian.

That's what he told himself, at least, but when they were halfway to Dad's buddy's cabin in Minnesota and it slipped out that he was wanted for eight counts of trafficking, when Mickey's throat started to burn, he knew.

A nine hour drive meant sitting next to Dad all night. When they finally, finally made it, got out to stretch their legs deep in the woods, it set in. Mickey was very firmly stuck here, at least for the coming days, nobody to keep him company but Dad and the fucking raccoons.

Just about as soon as they set foot in the cabin, Dad was snoring. Mickey wasn't about to take his chances in the same room, only four feet of space between the twin beds. He crept to the bathroom, locked the door, propped a stepstool against it for good measure. He texted Mandy first, short and to the point: sos in mn.

Then there was the problem of Ian. He had, at best, one message to make sure he'd leave him alone. There was no telling how long it would take Mandy to figure out how the fuck to get him out of this three-room shithole, assuming he wasn't cursed to die in it. Mickey couldn't say nothing. Ian would get antsy, go looking for him. Say something he shouldn't. But he couldn't tell him what was actually happening, either, because he couldn't give Ian that false hope. Couldn't let him stay attached, pine, worry, wait for something that wasn't going to come.

He had to let him get over it like a normal heartbreak. Ian could cry for a week and then find some other South Side street rat to fuck instead, a thought that had Mickey gnawing on his bottom lip to distract from the pit in his stomach. Yeah. That was what he had to do.

cant c u anymore, he wrote. dont txt.

Mickey deleted both messages as soon as they went through. He allowed himself ten seconds to let it sink in. Knuckles pressed into his eyes, sitting on the toilet lit bent double, he sniffled once. Then, after a few shuddering breaths, he opened the door, and thank fuck, Dad was still snoring.

[danikatze]

Thank you @sparkchemy for tagging me 😊

Last song: a music box playing We Wish You a Merry Christmas lol

Favourite color: green 💚

Last book: I'm re-reading Natsume Yuujinchou vol. 19. NatsuYuu is one of three manga series I've slowly been trying to collect over the last four or five years. Recently I found out they stopped producing and selling most of it, so I quickly bought the five that were still available and I didn't have yet. One of them was vol. 19

Last movie: the Muppet Christmas Carol. We watch it every year before Christmas (it feels wrong to watch it after lol)

Last tv show: re-watching Star Trek Deep Space Nine! It's the only ST series I'd seen before, so last summer I decided to (attempt to) watch everything from TOS to Voyager. I binged TOS and TNG pretty quickly, but took a break halfway DS9. I'm back on track now, though :)

Last game played: probably Baldur's Gate 3. I opened the game recently after not playing for a good while and closed it again pretty quickly lol. I'm not in a video game mood atm.

Sweet/spicy/savoury: yes.

Last thing I googled: "Lebanese movie 2018" I saw Capernaum at the film festival in Ghent when I worked there in 2018 (cleaning toilets, but it paid well and I was allowed to see all the movies for free. I ended up watching like 20 in 10 days lmao) I wanted to recommend it to someone, but I keep forgetting the title. It's one of the most beautiful and memorable movies I saw that year.

Current obsession: I have a couple micro obsessions atm. One of them is Mushishi and redrawing the comic I made. Another is my Natsume Yuujinchou collection. Like I said, most of them aren't for sale anymore, so I'm kinda obsessed with finding them second hand within the EU. No luck so far :(

Looking forward to: Friday. I'm going on vacation with my mum for a week (just a one and a half hour drive away from home, but still) and hopefully I can finally relax a little?

I'm tagging @tj-dragonblade and anyone who wants to answer these question: consider yourself tagged!

[circle--of--confusion]

Wip Wednesday!

80s Mall!AU edition again 🎶

In the snippet: Copia and Erin go mini golfing. (Feat. A Semi-retired Secondo)

-----------------

He waits in his car for Erin to finish up her shift at Becky’s so they can get to the mini golf building that’s a short drive around the side of the mall. He coordinated with Secondo so they could get some cover in case, god forbid, someone from work passes by to play.

He also hasn’t had a lot of time with her this week and Copia is itching to have his hands around her again. Erin makes him so lovesick but he’s found he doesn’t mind it.

A knock to his car door breaks Copia’s thinking and he looks to the right to find the woman of the hour. Erin quickly opens the door and she slides in, not without bringing him forward by his shirt for a bruising kiss before settling in her seat.

“What was that for?” Copia asks in a slight daze. He wraps a lock of her hair around his finger.

“Because I could.” Erin winks. “I saw you earlier when you were organizing something in the store and was hit with a sudden wave of yearning. Then I was upset that I couldn’t do anything about it until now.”

“Are you ready to leave, or do you need one more kiss?”

She smiles, leaning in. “Maybe just… one more little one.”

And little it was not. They’d began to make out in his car in the parking lot for a few minutes, moaning softly.

Erin separates, breathing heavy. “I realized that I don’t think I can go long in-between these anymore.”

“If we stopped sneaking around, you could have your way with me more often.” He winks.

“Is it odd I like the sneaking?” She tilts her head.

He smiles. “No. I like it too.”

Erin leans against the car seat. “I like our little bubble right now.”

“Me too.”

The sounds of a soft, sweet kiss being shared floats into the car before the sound of jingling keys and the engine turning on.

The mini golf building is massive. When Copia and Erin walk in, there’s a large entrance room with cubies and lockers and a check-in desk where Copia pays and they select their balls and putters. In the building is also an arcade and party room for birthdays.

Down a hallway there are entrances on the left and the right for two different courses: a nine-hole and an eighteen-hole course. They make a right to the bigger room and stop at the first part.

Copia gestures to Erin with a slight bow and says “Ladies first.”

She drops the ball onto the spot for it to go. It’s very obvious now due to the years of wear from previous players placing the ball in the same spot.

“Now, I don’t know how great you are at the game but I’ve been here over the years and I could give you a few pointers.” Copia walks up behind her.

She looks back with a smirk. “Really? I’d love a tip.”

“Allow me.” He slides a hand down Erin’s right arm to rest on hers on the putter and places his other hand on the curve of her hip. He presses up against her back and she can feel the vibrations in his chest when he speaks low by her ear. “Feel that? It’s all in the sway, side to side.”

“I’m feeling something alright.” She looks back to Copia and they each glance at the other’s lips before leaning in to share a quick kiss.

A quick spritz of water hits their faces and they’re pulling themselves apart, yelling at the intrusion.

“No, no you can’t possibly be this horny for each other during mini golf of all things,” Secondo barks. “If you’re going to act like lovesick teenagers, keep off the greens.”

“A spray bottle?” Copia asks in an exhausted voice.

Secondo scowls. “Don’t act like the I’ll show you some tips move isn’t a cliché.”

The couple sober up and decide to get the game started officially. Erin misses the first hole by a few inches and it takes two putts to finish a one putt section.

“Aw, baby, I’m sorry. You can’t always get it on the first try.” He claps pitifully at her and drops his ball to play. He swings and it goes in on the first stroke.

Erin raises an eyebrow. “Ok, mister big shot. Let’s make a bet: I win and I get to give you an ear piercing.”

Copia stands up straight at that. “If I win… you have to come with me to a double date with my brother and Omega.”

“That doesn’t sound like a punishment.”

“You’ll change your mind in due time.” Copia shudders. The love Terzo and Omega share with each other is sweet, tooth-rottingly so. They could just be holding hands and somehow Copia feels like he’s intruding

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Slowly but surely I'm chipping away at this fic. Can't wait to get it uploaded :)

[cyberllfe]

600 - Shag me - RK900

hi, anon. bet you thought I'd forgotten about you, hmm? oh, no. here's your nines. 600 words, dom!nines, rated E. want a turn? prompt me.

Air is forced from your lungs when your back hits the wall.

You don’t care. Every thought in your dazed mind is of Nines’ mouth and its hot path along your jaw, your neck, lips soft, tongue probing, and teeth—

A gasp escapes you when he nips at your skin and you tighten your legs around his waist and claw at his shoulders so he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t make a sound, but you feel the shape of his lips change against your skin; you’re sure he’s smirking at you as you lose control.

“Nines…”

When you exhale, your breath is shaky. He only nips at your neck in place of an answer.

“Please…”

Devious lips still on you, Nines’ breath brushes your skin, warm and ticklish, and you shiver a little as he slides a hand up your thigh to adjust how you sit against him. All at once you have a new reason to gasp, pressing so close to where you want him as he rocks back and forth.

“Say that again.”

“Pl—ah—”

Sharp teeth graze the sensitive slope of your neck and he presses his hips into yours, short-circuiting your effort to speak. The words you’d intended, the ones he wanted, lost in a choked gasp.

“I can’t hear you.”

“Nines,” you whine, nails digging into his scalp, “plea—”

Long fingers wrap around your neck and squeeze, cutting you off again. Nines’ face swims in front of you, eyes burning into yours, with the faintest twitch of his lips; he’s enjoying this, making you compliant and then complicating your obedience for his pleasure.

It’s infuriating to be so close and continually denied, to want and be prevented from asking. When Nines lowers his lips to yours, it’s to taunt you again, a faint kiss bestowed by a curved smile, just another way to stop you speaking. Same as ever he knows what you want, he just wants you mindless and desperate for him first.

You breathe in moans while he grinds his cock against your pulsing entrance, snatching all the oxygen he allows, faint tears in your eyes from the exertion and the time spent on the dizzying edge of pleasure. Even Nines isn’t quiet anymore: he murmurs honeyed humiliations in your ear, says your attempts to please are pathetic, but you look so pretty when you try. His laugh reverberates in his chest when you try to speak again and you feel almost suffocated by his presence, everywhere except where you need him most.

It’s when he pulls away and you lose the hard press of him against your swollen clit that you dig your fingers into his skin, creating white patches where you apply pressure, and beg him to fuck you. The words flee from your mouth in a half-coherent mess of frustration and desire, arms and legs pulling with laughable human strength to keep his naked form to you, dreading the moment he denies you again.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he presses into you fluidly, leaning close to watch you take him, murmuring soft encouragement. His thrusts send your ears buzzing, the new friction incredible after your wait. When he asks you a question you nod and he laughs again, peppering your hot skin with delicate kisses as he drives into you harder, pushing you closer until you’re pleading for permission to come.

Nines doesn’t give it until you’re screaming for him. Strong, inhuman arms hold you as you shake and spiral. He marks you from the inside, soothing you with gentle hands and words you listen for and miss—all except one.

“Mine.”