#not in any like troubling way or anything

[nightmaretour]

If you have to drink a gross tasting medication (like the Plenvu I just had to drink before my colonoscopy) break it up with sips of something savoury, not sweet! It'll cut through the bad taste more effectively. Stock, soup, anything savoury and a little salty!

Most "unhealthy" forms of fruits and vegetables are still nutritious! If you can't eat fresh fruit and veg, whether that's because of difficulty eating, sensory issues, low energy... any way to get those nutrients is better than not getting them at all. Smoothies, juice, chocolate coated nuts, fruit and nut bars, dried and canned fruit... all still contain nutrients! Just be aware of moderation.

Electric hot water bottles are infinitely better and safer than ones you fill with hot water yourself, especially if you have trouble with hand coordination/strength. They're also surprisingly inexpensive.

If you have hypersomnia or otherwise suffer with sleep issues that make waking up difficult, ALWAYS set multiple alarms in a row, I'd suggest every five minutes or so for at least half an hour. Do not rely on the snooze button, you'd be surprised what you can do while half asleep, and if you fall back asleep after turning it off you're screwed.

Stretch your joints often if you can, especially if you have arthritis. Being in one position all day will make stiffness and pain worse. Take a moment every now and then to have a good stretch.

I've been disabled for almost 29 years. Here's what I've learned.

Tablets sink and capsules float. Separate out your tablets and capsules when you go to take them. Tip your head down when taking capsules and up when taking tablets. Liquigels don't matter, they kinda stay in the middle of whatever liquid is in your mouth.

If your pill tastes bad, coat it with a bit of butter or margarine. I learned this from my mom, who learned it from a pharmacist.

Being in pain every day isn't normal. Average people experience pain during exceptional moments, like when they stub their toe or jam their finger in a door, not when they sit cross-legged.

Make a medical binder. Make multiple medical binders. I have a small one that comes with me to appointments and two big ones that stay at home, one with old stuff and one with more recent stuff.

Find your icons. Some of mine include Daya Betty (drag queen with diabetes), Stef Sanjati (influencer with Waardenburg syndrome and ADHD), and Hank Green (guy with ulcerative colitis who... does a bunch of stuff). They don't have to be disabled in the same way as you. They don't even have to be real people. Put their pictures up somewhere if you want; I've been meaning to decorate my medical binders with pictures of my icons.

Take a bin, box, bag, basket, whatever and fill it with items to cope with. This can be stuff for mentally coping like colouring books or play clay or stuff for physically coping like pain medicine or physio tape.

Decorate your shit! My cane for at home has a plushie backpack clip hanging from the end of the handle and my cane for going places is covered in stickers. All of my medical binders have fun scrapbooking paper on the outside. Sometimes, I put stickers and washi tape on my inhalers and pill bottles. I used my Cricut to decorate my coping bin with quotes from my icons, like "I've seen enough of Ba Sing Se" and "I need you to be angrier with that bell".

If a flare-up is making you unable to eat or keep food down, consider going to the ER. A pharmacist once told me that since my eye flares can make me so nauseous that I cannot eat, then I need to go to the hospital when that happens.

Cola works wonders for nausea. I have mini cans of Diet Pepsi in my coping bin.

Shortbread is one of the only things I can eat when nauseous. Giant Tiger sells individually-wrapped servings of shortbread around Christmas or the British import store sells them year-round. I also keep these in my coping bin.

Unless it violates a pain contract or something, don't be afraid to go behind your doctor's back to get something they are refusing you. I got my cardiologist referral by getting in with a different NP at my primary care clinic than who I usually saw. I switched from Seroquel to Abilify by visiting a walk-in.

If you have a condition affecting your abdomen in some way (GI issues, reproductive problems, y'know) then invest in track pants that are too big. I bought some for my laparoscopy over a year ago and they've been handy for pelvic pain days, too. I've also heard loose pants are good for after colonoscopies.

Do whatever works, even if it's weird. I've sat on the floor of the Eaton Centre to take my pills. I've shoved heating pads down my front waistband to reach my uterus.

High-top Converse are good for weak ankles. I almost exclusively wear them.

You can reuse your pill bottles for stuff. I use my jumbo ones to store makeup sponges and my long skinny ones to hold a travel-size amount of Q-Tips.

Just because your diagnostics come back with nothing, it doesn't mean nothing is wrong. Maybe you were checking the wrong thing, or the diagnostic tool wasn't sensitive enough. I have bradycardia episodes even though multiple cardiac tests caught nothing. I probably have endometriosis even though my gynecologist didn't see anything.

You can bring your comfort item to appointments, and it's generally a green flag when someone talks to you about it. I brought a Squishmallow turkey (named Ulana) to my laparoscopy and they had her wearing my mask when I woke up. I brought a Build-A-Bear cat (named Blinx) to another procedure and a nurse told me that everyone in the hall on the way to the procedure room saw him and were talking about how cute he was. Both of those ended up being positive experiences and every person who talked to me about my plushies was nice to me. If you don't feel comfortable having it visible to your provider during the appointment, you can hide it in your bag and just know it's there, or if you're in a video appointment, you can hold it below frame in your lap.

Get a small bucket, fill it with stuff, and stick it in your bed (if you have room for it). I filled a bucket with Ensure, juice boxes, oatmeal bars, lotion, my rescue inhaler, etc. in October 2023 in anticipation of my laparoscopy and I still have it in my bed as of January 2025.

If your disability impacts your impulse control (e.g. ADHD, bipolar disorder), you should consider setting limits around your spending -- no more than X dollars at a time, nothing online unless it's absolutely necessary, and so on. Or, run these purchases by someone you trust before committing to them; I use my BFF groupchat to help talk sense into myself when I buy stuff.

Feel free to add on what you've learned about disability!

[baronessvonglitter]

Guessing Game

stepdad!Javier Pena x fem!Reader

Word count: 2.8K

Summary: Your stepfather is a DEA agent. When he finds drugs in your room you have to find a way to keep yourself out of trouble.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit. Step-cest (if that's an ick for you please do not read - you are responsible for the content you consume 🖤). Age gap (reader is early twenties, Javi is mid-to-late forties). Reader wears makeup and a dress and has hair long enough to get in her face. Cocaine use. Sexual proposition/exploitation. Dub con. (Reader is high during the act.) Oral (m receiving). Drug use during oral. Come swallowing. Fingering. *Spanish terms at the bottom. If I've missed anything please lmk!

Author's note: Big thanks to those of you who asked about this when it was just a baby wip -- now it's fully grown and I so appreciate the support! 💜

JAVIER PENA MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

"Please tell me you're coming out tonight."

You pause a moment before answering your friend Gabi, switching your phone to your other ear as you check your reflection in the mirror. You apply dark burgundy lipstick to your bottom lip: Guessing Game by MAC, and top it with a swipe of clear gloss.

"I'll be there. You can bet your tits on that," you tell her with a smirk before you end the call.

Sure, you're technically still in trouble for staying out all night the past weekend. That's the thing that sucks about  commuting to college instead of moving out-- having to stay under your mom's roof and adhere to her rules.

Not just her rules, oh no. Your new stepfather is a hard-ass too, and a DEA agent on top of that. Javier Peña's over half your age and a stickler for rules. He's down your throat any chance he gets when you talk back to your mom or do anything that he finds disrespectful. 

It's stressful having to walk such a thin line. You deserve to go out tonight and show off the slinky, short black dress you're secretly borrowing from your mom's closet. It's not like she wears stuff like this anymore. She won't miss it for one night.

Almost ready to go, you do a last minute checklist. The only thing missing from your purse is your baggie. 

Shit! Where is it? You check your usual hiding place but find nothing. Your stomach swirls with unease.

"Looking for this?"

You turn to the sound of the deep voice coming from your doorway. There stands Javier, big bad DEA stepdad, holding your baggie of coke between thumb and forefinger.

"That's not mine," you automatically deny. 

"Bullshit," he mutters, stepping into the room. "I found it in here earlier. You want to tell me what you're doing with cocaine, chiquita?"

"Like I said, it's not mine," you insist. Deny, deny, deny. 

"How stupid do you think I am, huh? Just be damn glad I found it and not your mother. She'd kick your ass out on the streets for having this." The offending white powder in its baggie looks tiny in his large hand.

"Did I interrupt your big plans tonight?" he asks smoothly, shutting your bedroom door behind him. "Were you gonna go out and party, do a few lines, let some pendejo fuck you up the ass?"

"Javi!" You instinctively cover yourself as his eyes linger over your figure in that short, tight dress.

He comes around the bed, towering over you as you sit on the edge. Still in his suit and tie and his hair still in its neat, swept-to-the-side style, you imagine he must have just gotten off work. His dark eyes challenge you to do one more thing to piss him off. Despite the severe disdain you hold for one another, in the back of your mind you've always wanted to fuck him. Him being alone with you in your room, that dangerous, pissed-off look in his eyes only serves to make you wet. 

"You should know better," he says. "I can't have a fucking druggie for a stepdaughter."

"I'm sorry," you mumble. "But you shouldn't be going through my shit anyway."

"That's not a fucking apology, cariño," he gripes. "When you say 'sorry, but' that means you're not truly fucking sorry."

"You're giving me a fucking semantics lesson now?"

"Don't fucking talk back to me," he growls. "I'm not your mom, I'll beat your ass."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Keep it down, she's asleep in the next room."

It's late and by now your mom's taken her sleeping pill. You'd counted on her staying practically unconscious as you snuck out. Until Javi came along. You don't know what his plot is but the fact that he's here in your room with the door closed and it's half past midnight gives you a feeling that he wants something he shouldn't be asking for.

"Just.. give it back to me. I'll flush it, I promise."

A dark chuckle leaves his throat and sends a chill up your spine. He holds the baggie out and flicks it with his finger. "Who's your plug, baby? Give me that much. Possession with intent to distribute is a worse crime than just possession. You could get off with just a slap on the wrist if you just give me a name."

"I'm not telling you shit.."

"That stubborn, eh, princesita?" He smirks at even you have to admit he's a little handsome when he looks at you like that. But you still fucking hate him. You make a low sound in your throat, akin to a growl.

“You got something in your throat, chica?”

“No.. but I’d like to..”

His gaze darkens as he looks down at you, that barely-there dress leaving so little to the imagination. He recognizes it from his wife's closet, the very same dress she wore when they went on their first date. And now it fits you like a second skin. "Careful, chica. You might be an adult under the law, but you have no idea what the real fucking world is like."

"What are you gonna do, turn me in?" you challenge him.

"Maybe we can come to a compromise," he says, his gaze on your wet, glossy, darkened lips. "I'll keep quiet about the drugs if you do something for me."

"Like what?" You lean back on the bed, acting bored with the conversation though you're secretly glad he's about to let you off the hook.

"You're a smart girl. Use your imagination."

You separate your gaze from his, traveling down to the prominent bulge in his trousers.

"You're disgusting, you know that? Exploiting your own stepdaughter like that.."

He shrugs. "I have no problem bringing you in for this. It's a shame, though. You're a bright kid, you have your whole future ahead of you. You gonna let a little cocaina put an end to all that?"

"Fuck you," you mutter, sitting up. What does it matter anyway? It's just a dick. Not like you haven't sucked a few in your time. "Fine. I fucking blow you and you don't tell anyone about the coke, okay?"

A little smile curls his lips upward. "Deal, princesita."

He puts the baggie on the nightstand where you can't reach it and turns to you, hands on his hips. You realize he's waiting for you to start. 

Smart guy, having you make the first move so it's not on him later. "Nobody knows about this, either," you demand, your fingers hovering just over his belt buckle.

His breath hitches before answering, excitement hidden in his voice. "Just between us."

You feel your heartbeat in your throat as you undo his belt and pants, letting them fall to the floor. He's wearing white briefs, though you know him to typically go commando when he's not working.

"That's it, bebita linda," he coos as you free him from his underwear. His thick erection curves upward, slapping his belly as it swells and rises. Your mouth waters just feasting your eyes upon it.

"Ain't got all night," he grumbles.

"So fucking impatient," you grumble back, wrapping your hand around his hefty cock. It's bigger than any you've ever had, already weeping from the tip. Without hesitation you lick up the salty precum, delighting in the way his breath catches in his throat.

"It's not gonna suck itself," he grunts, putting his hand on the back of your head and pushing you towards him. "C'mon, baby, wanna see that pretty lipstick ruined and slopped all over my cock. The deal doesn't count if you're just gonna give it kitten licks."

Grabbing the base in one hand you slide the tip between your lips. Already it feels like too much, but you're not going to let him think he's got the best of you. 

"Open wide, baby, I know you can suck a cock better than that."

Forcing back an exasperated sigh you practically unhinge your jaw to get your whole mouth around him, his fat cockhead hitting the back of your throat, making you gag. Javi laughs as you pull away.

"You a fucking amateur, mia linda?" he chuckles. "Or am I just too big for that bratty mouth?"

"Fuck you."

He grabs you by the chin and forces you to look up at him. Your eyes are big, wide, a hint of fear there mixed with desire. "Be good for me. Or do you need something more to keep you sweet?"

He reaches for the baggie and scoops out a small amount, making a nice line on the top of his cock. 

"C'mon, do a line for me, sugar." He brings your head down and immediately you snort the white powder off his dick.

"There you go.. putting those vices to good use for once. Now maybe you'll suck my cock like the proper little slut you are."

You're still sniffling up the remnants of the coke when he shoves himself inside your mouth again, the bitter taste of the drug mixing with the salty taste of his flesh. 

"Relax your throat," he commands. "I can't believe I have to tell you how to suck a cock," he tsk-tsks.

Your eyes are brimming over with tears as you take him deep inside your throat. He stays there, guiding your movements with his hands on the back of your head. You start to breathe through your nose as your airway gets stuffed full of Javi's throbbing dick.

"Just look at that pretty mouth, pretty purple lips spread open wide around my cock," he whispers. "That's right, baby, get my cock all messy with your lipstick."

He lets you pull away from him to catch your breath before pushing back in, thrusting into your mouth. Whether you like it or not, saliva fills your mouth, making the slide in easier. If he knew your pussy was getting just as wet right now he'd take full advantage.

By now the coke is taking effect, making your heart flutter, and your pleasure receptors are buzzing off the charts. If you were only a reluctant participant before, you're voracious now. You put all your effort into blowing Javier, eager for his moans and sharp curses, even when he pulls out and taps your cheek with his dick you can't help but giggle, seeking him out with your tongue so you can drag it along his length.

Soon you're getting into a rhythm, following his lead as he thrusts into your mouth, pulling you away, only to push in again, stuffing you full and deep as he grabs your hair. Your mascara runs down your face, black streaks down your cheeks, lipstick smeared, Javi's dick now a strange purple.

He likes watching his whole member disappearing inside you, excited by the way you're learning to take him. He stops playing nice and stuffs himself down your throat, shoving himself deep and thrusting shallowly while your arms flail in a vain attempt to push away from him.

"Nuh-uh.. we agreed. I can just take you in right now, all wrecked and ruined. I can already see the mugshot. Bet your mama would be so proud," he says sarcastically.

"Fuck you," you manage to say, lips swollen, saliva running down your chin and neck.

"Hey, that's not very ladylike. Then again, you're not much of a lady, are you? Now suck."

He thrusts inside you again, even though you gag on him, tasting the bitterness of your own bile creeping up your gullet.

"If you puke on me I'll just keep going. You think I'm worried about a little vomit?"

You force down the remnants of your dinner from earlier, simultaneously bringing him deeper into your mouth.

"Lift up that dress for me, want you to play with your pussy while you're sucking me off," he says, stuffing your mouth full with more of him.

You do as he says, picking up the hem of the dress over your hips and sticking your hand under your black lace thong. You're drenched and Javier can see it, smell your arousal as it fragrances the air between you. He's never smelled a sweeter pussy. 

"That's right, circle that pretty little clit for me, mamacita," he grunts, exiting your mouth to pull back and watch you for a little, a long thick string of saliva connecting between your lips and his dick. You look totally wrecked and he's not even done yet.

You work on yourself, pressing your clit, your little gasps fueling Javier's need. "There you go, drive yourself crazy for me," he says.

You dip your fingers inside your warm cunt, closing your eyes as you seek out the relief from the heat building between your thighs. "Nu-uh, baby, eyes on me," he purrs slipping back in, thrusting deep and slow, watching you, feeling how good it is when you moan around his dick.

"Perfect, fucking perfect," he moans when you deep throat him again, your tongue peeking out to lick his balls. "Fuck," he says, tightening the grip he has on your hair. "Freaky mamacita, aren't you? Done this before, haven't you? To a lot of guys, I bet."

You whimper around his dick, pulling away to get some air. You finger yourself into a frenzy and start to come. "Not yet," Javier growls, pulling you back onto his slobber-coated cock. "You gotta earn it if you wanna come," he tells you.

You whine about it but the energetic buzz the coke has given you is still at work, putting extra effort into sucking off your stepdad, a renewed energy and vigor to your mouth sucking his cock. 

"Damn, cariño.. you really want your bad little habit kept secret, huh?" Javier pants, head thrown back as you sloppily suck him off. "Fuck, fuck, I'm gonna come.. gonna spray that sarcastic little bitchy mouth with my cum.. you ready?"

He doesn't wait for an answer, slamming into your mouth with urgency, not a care for your comfort until he bursts in your mouth and you have no choice but to taste the hot saltiness of his release.

He pulls out slowly, and when you try to spit out his release he shoves it back in with his fingers, effectively gagging you in the process. "Swallow," he commands, and you do so obediently just as his other hand finds its way to your core. 

He curls his fingers into the waistband, pulling the thong up, rubbing the material against your wanting and willing core, rubbing hard against your clit. It's pleasure bordering on pain.

"Fucking hell, look how soaked you are," he coos. He watches the way your stringy slick clings to the lace of your thong. "You got all wet sucking me off, didn't you? Dirty girl. Muy sucia." He rubs the pad of his thumb over your exposed clit and smirks when you start panting like a dog in heat, thighs open to him, head thrown back, your hair sticking to the mess of saliva and lip gloss on your mouth and chin.

"There it is.. just what you wanted, huh? What you think about every time you look at me. You dream about my cock in your mouth and my fingers in your cunt, just like this.." He delves two thick digits into your wetness while stroking your clit and it's embarrassing how quickly you come on his fingers, your core quivering around him, expelling more fluid, coating his hand.

"That's it," he says gently, staying inside you until the little aftershocks are complete and your body is utterly spent. Your mouth tastes like his cum and the lingering bitterness of the cocaine is at the back of your throat. Despite your orgasm being over your heart is still jackhammering away. The high of both the drug and the orgasm combine to leave you teetering on the edge of sanity.

"Drugged out and fucked out," Javier mutters, watching you as he removes his fingers. He lets out a small noise of approval, his thumb gently tracing along your lip and the edge of your tongue for a moment before slowly sliding it inside your mouth. “Taste yourself, princesa.”

You make a little sound of pleasure, swirling your tongue along his thumb, your gaze on him.

His free hand moves to tangle in your hair to keep your head still as he slowly pulls his thumb out of your mouth, a thin string of saliva connecting his finger to your tongue as he looks down at you with half lidded eyes. "God, you look so good down there, cariño." 

Then he pushes you back on the bed. "Such a fucking mess," he mutters, tucking his cock back in his briefs and doing up his pants again. "Go clean yourself up. And no more fucking coke, got it?" he growls as he leaves, taking the baggie with him.

"We're square now, bebita," he says, giving one last look to your prone form, your skin flushed and sweaty, legs splayed out like a true coke whore. "But if I ever catch you doing something like this again, I'll do more than fuck that sweet little mouth of yours."

*chiquita ~ little girl | pendejo ~ idiot | carino ~ dear | princesita ~ little princess | chica ~ girl | cocaina ~ cocaine | bebita linda ~ pretty baby | mamacita ~ gorgeous/hottie | muy sucia ~ very dirty

dividers by @sweetmelodygraphics 👑

taglist: @myownwholewildworld @milla-frenchy @604to647

@vichons @itwasntimethatdidit40 @probablyreadinsmut

@drewharrisonwriter @joelmillerisapunk @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

@everybodylovedcontractors @almostfoxglove @cxrsed-angel

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@friendly-neighborhood-boricua @notgoingtomalta @darling-stevie

@letsgobarbs @devineconjuring

[andy-15-07]

Hii good morning! Would you like to write anything smut for Javier Peña or any other Pedro's character you like? Thankss

The Allure of the Night

Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader

Word Count: 2334 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

The dim light of the bar cast long shadows, painting the scene in hues of amber and gold. Javier Peña nursed his drink, the ice clinking softly in the otherwise quiet space. He watched as you moved across the room, a vibrant splash of color in the muted atmosphere. Your laughter, light and unrestrained, drifted over to him, and he found himself smiling despite the weight of the day. He’d known you for… how long had it been now? Long enough to know the curve of your smile, the way your eyes crinkled at the corners when you were truly amused, long enough to know the comfort of your presence amidst the chaos that was his life.

You reached his table, a playful glint in your eyes. “Javier. You look like you’re contemplating the mysteries of the universe.”

He chuckled, gesturing to the empty chair opposite him. “Just thinking about how much trouble one woman can cause.”

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on your lips. “And what trouble have I caused, Agent Peña?”

“Oh, you know,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “The usual. Disrupting the peace, corrupting my morals…”

“Your morals were already corrupt, Javier,” you retorted, sliding into the chair. “I just helped you embrace it.”

He laughed, the sound genuine and warm. “That you did. That you did.” He signaled the bartender for another drink. “So, what brings you out tonight? Besides the irresistible allure of my company, of course.”

“You wound me, Javier,” you said, feigning hurt. “Your company is always a draw. But I actually came to hear about your latest escapades. Anything exciting happening in the world of drug cartels and international intrigue?”

Javier’s smile faded slightly. “Same old, same old. Cat and mouse. Except sometimes it’s hard to tell who’s the cat and who’s the mouse.” He swirled the ice in his glass. “It’s… complicated.”

“Complicated seems to be your specialty,” you said softly. You reached out and covered his hand with yours, the simple gesture grounding him. “You know you can talk to me about anything, Javier.”

He looked at your hand on his, the warmth of your touch a welcome contrast to the coldness of the metal. “I know,” he said, his voice rough. “And I appreciate it. More than you know.”

The conversation flowed easily between them, a comfortable mix of banter and shared confidences. They talked about the case, the frustrations, the small victories that kept him going. You listened patiently, offering insightful comments and a sympathetic ear. You understood his world, not because you were a part of it, but because you understood him.

As the night deepened, the bar emptied, leaving only a handful of patrons. Javier and you remained, lost in your own little world. The air between you crackled with an unspoken tension, a familiar dance of attraction and hesitation. You both knew where this could lead, where it usually led, but neither of you dared to break the comfortable rhythm.

Finally, Javier leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on you. “You know,” he said, his voice low and husky, “I’ve been thinking…”

“Oh, this sounds dangerous,” you teased. “Javier Peña thinking.”

He grinned, a flash of white teeth in the dim light. “Dangerous is my middle name. Or it should be. Anyway, I was thinking… about how much I enjoy your company.”

“Is that so?” you purred, meeting his gaze.

“Yeah,” he said, his eyes tracing the curve of your jawline. “I do. You’re… you’re good for me.”

“And you’re good for me,” you replied, your voice barely a whisper.

He reached across the table, his fingers brushing against yours. A spark ignited, a familiar flame that flickered to life between them. He pulled your hand towards him, his touch surprisingly gentle. You didn’t resist.

“Come here,” he murmured, his voice laced with desire.

You stood up, your chair scraping against the floor. He met you halfway, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you close. The scent of his cologne filled your senses, a heady mix of sandalwood and something distinctly Javier. You tilted your head back, offering him your lips.

His kiss was slow and deliberate, a探求 touch that ignited a fire within you. It was a kiss that spoke of unspoken desires, of a connection that ran deeper than either of you were willing to admit. He deepened the kiss, his hand moving to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair.

The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, locked in a moment of shared passion. The bar, the case, the complications of his life… all of it disappeared, replaced by the intensity of his touch, the heat of his kiss.

He broke the kiss, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He rested his forehead against yours, his eyes searching yours. “Come home with me,” he whispered.

You didn’t hesitate. “Yes,” you breathed.

The drive back to his apartment was a blur. Neither of you spoke, the silence filled with anticipation. When they arrived, Javier unlocked the door and ushered you inside. The apartment was dimly lit, the only light coming from the streetlamps outside.

He turned to you, his eyes burning with intensity. He reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured.

You blushed, the compliment warming you from the inside out. “Thank you,” you whispered.

He pulled you close again, his arms wrapping around you tightly. He kissed you again, a kiss that was filled with a desperate longing. His hands moved over your body, exploring the curves and contours you knew so well.

He led you to the bedroom, the air thick with unspoken promises. He closed the door behind him, shutting out the world. He turned to you, his eyes filled with a raw desire that made your breath catch in your throat.

He reached out and began to unbutton your shirt, his fingers fumbling slightly. You met his gaze, your own heart pounding in your chest. He undressed you slowly, savoring every moment. You did the same for him, your fingers trembling slightly as you unbuttoned his shirt.

He pulled you close, his body pressed against yours. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the hard muscles beneath his skin. He kissed you again, his tongue tracing the outline of your lips. The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more demanding.

He lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. You gasped, your hands clutching his shoulders. He carried you to the bed, his eyes never leaving yours. He laid you down gently, his body hovering over yours.

He kissed you again, his lips trailing down your neck, your chest. He explored every inch of your body, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You moaned softly, your hands tangling in his hair.

He moved lower, his lips brushing against your skin. You arched your back, your breath catching in your throat. He continued his exploration, his touch igniting a fire within you that threatened to consume you.

He finally entered you, his movements slow and deliberate. You gasped, your body tightening around him. He paused, his eyes searching yours. “Are you okay?” he whispered.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Yes.”

He began to move, his pace quickening. You met his rhythm, your bodies moving together in perfect harmony. The world dissolved, leaving only the two of you, lost in the throes of passion. You cried out his name, your voice filled with a desperate longing. He answered you with a groan, his body shuddering as he reached his climax.

He collapsed on top of you, his breath coming in ragged gasps. You held him close, your fingers stroking his hair. The silence was broken only by the sound of your breathing, the beating of your hearts.

He finally rolled over, pulling you with him. He held you close, his arm wrapped around you protectively. You snuggled against him, your head resting on his chest. You could feel the steady beat of his heart, a comforting rhythm that lulled you to sleep.

The morning light streamed through the window, waking you gently. You stretched, your body feeling pleasantly sore. You turned to find Javier sleeping soundly beside you, his face relaxed and peaceful. You smiled, a feeling of warmth spreading through you. You reached out and gently brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead.

He stirred, his eyes fluttering open. He looked at you, a soft smile gracing his lips. “Morning,” he murmured.

“Morning,” you replied.

He pulled you closer, his arm tightening around you. He kissed you softly, a lingering kiss that spoke of affection and tenderness. “I’m glad you’re here,” he whispered.

“Me too,” you replied, snuggling against him.

The dim silence of the early morning had given way to a warm glow as you slowly stirred beside Javier. The memory of last night’s fierce passion still shimmered in the quiet air of his bedroom. Your body felt pleasantly tender and alive with anticipation for what the morning might bring. As you shifted on the rumpled sheets, Javier’s eyes fluttered open, heavy with sleep but quickly brightening at the sight of you.

“Good morning,” he murmured in a husky tone, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your bare arm. His voice carried a mix of lingering desire and a promise of more.

“Good morning,” you replied, a teasing smile curving your lips. “I was hoping we’d have a few more moments like last night.”

Javier’s gaze darkened with need as he shifted closer. “I can’t get enough of you,” he whispered. “Tell me, do you want to taste me… again?”

The question, spoken with both vulnerability and raw passion, sent a shiver through you. You slid your hand to his chest, feeling the rapid thump of his heart beneath your palm. “I want every bit of you, Javier. Let’s not hold back.”

In that intimate, sunlit haze, the roles of giver and receiver blurred in a dance as old as desire itself. Javier was the first to act—his lips trailing heated kisses along your collarbone before softly biting at your skin, eliciting a quiet moan from you. You arched into his touch, your body inviting his exploration. With deliberate care, he began unfastening the delicate straps of your lingerie, his tongue occasionally flicking out to taste the warm skin revealed with each freed inch.

Moments later, you took control, shifting so that your eyes met his in a silent exchange of mutual invitation. “Now it’s my turn,” you said breathlessly. You slowly slid off the top of his loose T-shirt, your hands exploring the hard planes of his torso. Your fingertips grazed over the sensitive skin of his chest, drawing a low groan as you trailed kisses downward, savoring the subtle saltiness of his skin.

Before long, you found yourself kneeling between his thighs, his eyes never leaving yours. The raw desire in his gaze spurred you on as you began to tease him with gentle, exploratory kisses along the inside of his thigh. His hand threaded through your hair as his breath grew ragged, his murmurs mingling with the soft sounds of your ministrations. You took your time, letting each kiss and soft lick build the intensity between you. When you finally moved closer, your warm mouth enveloped him; every deliberate stroke of your tongue was a pledge of your shared passion.

“God, you feel so good,” he groaned, his hands resting on your head to guide your movements. His pleasure was as evident as the way his body responded to your every touch, and soon you both were caught in an intoxicating rhythm of mutual giving.

But the intimacy did not stop there. As the taste of desire and satisfaction mingled with the soft light of morning, Javier shifted his focus. With a gentle yet commanding look, he guided you so that you lay back, your body exposed in a vulnerable yet empowered state. “Now, let me show you how much I crave you,” he whispered.

Rising to his knees, he began his own exploration, his tongue tracing patterns along your inner thigh before finally reaching the most sensitive places. Every touch, every flicker of his tongue, brought soft gasps and the quickening of your breath. You arched your back, your hands gripping the sheets as waves of pleasure built inside you. In the quiet intimacy of that morning, you were both performers in a delicate, passionate duet, each act of oral caressing the other as much as it filled you with need.

Between whispered words and the music of soft moans, you exchanged playful, heated dialogue. “You taste even better than I remembered,” Javier murmured as you both took turns exploring each other’s most intimate parts. “I love hearing you moan, knowing that every inch of you is mine,” he said, his voice low and filled with adoration.

“You make me feel alive,” you responded, your words punctuated by another soft moan as he switched back to you, ensuring that every bit of desire was both given and received. The raw energy of your morning encounter was as wild as it was tender—a true celebration of trust, passion, and the magnetic pull that drew you both together time and again.

As your bodies reached a blissful crescendo, the lines between giving and receiving blurred until you were both lost in a haze of mutual ecstasy. In the aftermath, breathless and spent, you lay entwined in each other’s arms, the quiet of the morning punctuated only by soft, contented sighs. The passion of the night had transformed into a gentle, lingering tenderness as you both savored the afterglow.

In that sacred space of shared vulnerability, you knew without words that this was more than just a physical connection—it was an affirmation of the depth of your desire, trust, and the unspoken promise of many more mornings filled with both wild abandon and tender intimacy.

[danikamariewrites]

In Enemy Hands

Mob!Azriel x reader

Warnings: kidnapping, guns, violence, a lil murder but nothing graphic, not proof read

Azriel knew. The heavy feeling in his gut twisting and turning as he paced the driveway.

The mini convoy pulling up had him stopping, his eyes widening at the sight of the damaged Range Rover Cassian was driving. His heart clenched at the destruction.

It was rare Azriel let his men see him in this worried state. He was doing a good job of keeping his mask in place, but Azriel felt like he needed to scream. Like he was going to drop to his knees and let this feral thing inside him out.

Rhys silently stepped up next to his brother, clasping his hand on Azriel’s shoulder. As soon as the cars stopped Azriel pulled away from Rhys to inspect your car. Cassian had already given Az a full report of the damage and how you were taken. He just needed to see it with his own eyes.

Azriel frantically searched the car for any clue that you could’ve left. “Az there’s nothing in here,” Cassian says gently.

“No,” Azriel roars, whipping around to give Cassian a deadly glare. “There — she has to,” Az fumbles over his words.

For the first time since he was a child a tear slid down his cheek. For the first time since he was a child Azriel felt fear.

Anger quickly mixed itself in. Azriel quickly sees red. His breaths were bordering on pants as he cast a pained look at your car.

“I am going to kill every single one of them.”

You push your chest against the ropes keeping you to the rolling chair. All that does is slowly spin you in a circle. You pull at the duct tape binding your wrists to the arms of the chair.

Even though your whole body ached from the collision you fought. And you’d keep fighting.

The door squeaks open as Beron stands over you. He's supposed to be a myth these days. Living out his exile in a quiet town, cut off from his family.

When Eris overthrew his father to become head of the family he showed Beron mercy. Something he never showed any of his sons. The fact that Beron was in the city, and with a small army backing him, meant trouble.

“Eris might actually kill you this time,” I break his brooding silence. “Do you not want to live, or are you just itching for round two with the head of the Vanserra fam—” your words melted into a piercing scream as Beron gave your knee a hard kick.

Pain blinds you. Thanks to the crash you’re pretty sure your knee is somewhere between dislocated and broken. Focusing on breathing through it you regain your composure.

“The bastard that took my spot is weak. Your boyfriend even weaker. I know they owe each other. And the pretender has no one, you were next on the list.”

You groan, absorbing the information. Nesta was good at laying low then. And you’re not a rat.

“Finacé.”

Beron gives me a disgusted scowl. “Fiancé now. Do you not get the newsletter out in the suburbs?” You shoot him a shit eating grin. Beron’s growing rage tells you to quit it with the quips.

“The title doesn’t change anything. My plan is already in motion.” Your heart skipped a beat.

“Aahh the facade does crack.” He grins. Your glare turns murderous. “If you hurt Azriel you won’t have to be afraid of the family’s. Just me.” Beron lets out a cackle as he leaves you to your pain.

It’s already been a full 24 hours and Azriel hasn’t slept. He angrily paced the house as Eris ran point, commanding men to watch Beron’s old hideouts. To comb the city and leave no stone unturned.

Rhys and Cassian have been taking turns to try and ease their brother’s anxiety. Mostly it was to make sure Azriel didn’t run off to take Beron on alone.

Right when Azriel was about to implode Eris ran into the office to report that you’ve been found.

“I have a man on the inside with Beron. We need to move now to catch them off guard, I’ll explain on the way.” Azriel didn’t wait for Eris to finish before he was out the front door.

When the warehouse comes into sight Azriel has to restrain himself from jumping out of the car. “Remember,” Eris’s stern voice sounds down the comms. “Wait for the signal.” Azriel rolls his eyes, knowing that command was targeted at him.

They stay out for almost an hour before Eris’s informant gives the signal.

Entering the building Azriel almost threw up his heart at the sight.

Once Atlas finally gained your trust you let him cut you loose and help stabilize your knee. Thanks to the pain you had to put your weight on him.

Shuffling out of the room you were hidden away in being out in the open made your heart race. Some guards patrolled the upstairs, a few weaved between the stacked pallets.

Atlas dragged you behind a stack of boxes to send a text to Eris. “Stay here.” Atlas whispers. You make yourself as small as possible. Pressing you back against the boxes as you watch Atlas cut through the room to silently cut down those foolish enough to side with Beron.

A second person took down the men upstairs. Silently laying them down as their bodies went limp in his arms.

When Atlas returns you immediately push yourself up, leaning your weight on him again.

Halfway through the warehouse angry footsteps sound from behind. Followed by the click of a gun. Atlas whipped around, shoving you behind him.

“Beron, you don’t want to do this.” He said, raising his gun. The laugh that escaped Beron sent painful chills through your body.

“Enough games. Where’s the boy? Or is he not brave enough to face me?”

“Eris will be here soon enough.”

The two stare each other down. Neither wanted to shoot first. Atlas pushes you, silently asking you to hide and leave him.

Turning as quickly as your knee would let you hobble down the center of the room, aiming to dive behind another stack of boxes.

Two shots sound behind you. One followed by the thud of Atlas’s body. The other right next to your foot. You let yourself fall, putting your weight on your uninjured side.

Beron grabbed you by the back of your neck, hauling you to your feet.

“Any second.” He panted into your ear. Beron’s arm wrapped around your neck, his gun pressing into your temple.

The door slammed open to reveal Azriel, Eris, and the rest of their men. You let out a small sigh of relief at all the familiar faces.

Your eyes meet Azriel’s rage filled ones. “Beron,” he roars. “Let her go!”

“When I have you both where I want you?” You claw at Beron’s arm attempting to loosen his grip.

Azriel was struggling with what to do. He wants to shoot Beron but he was petrified of hitting you by accident. If he moved, Beron would likely kill you.

Eris opens his mouth to threaten his father when a gun goes off. Beron howls and Eris rushes forward to pin him. Everything plays out in slow motion for Azriel. Once he realizes you fall he runs to you.

Azriel scoops you to his chest, rocking you and running his fingers through your tangled hair. “Y/n, oh my sweet y/n. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” Azriel keeps repeating the apology. You cling to him, breathing in his comforting scent.

He pulls away from you to look you over. Tears prick at Azriel’s eyes when he sees the small gash on your forehead and hurt knee. “Oh my angel.”

“I’m ok, Az.” He shakes his head pulling you back to his chest. Picking you up bridal style Azriel briefly talks to Eris. The next time you look up Azriel is buckling you in the car, never taking his arm from around you.

Az doesn’t let you walk in the house, carrying you tight to his chest again. Bringing you to the spare room you see the family doctor is already set up. An hour later she determines your knee has a bone bruise and the cut on your forehead just requires neosporin and a bandaid.

Before the doc leaves Azriel brings you to the bedroom, helping you change and tucking you in with a heating pad.

You stare at him holding his hand. “Sit, love.” He does as you say, the tears he’s been holding back finally falling from eyes. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers again. “I’m so sorry I failed to keep you safe.” You shake your head at him.

“You brought me home. I’m with you.” Az nods. “I brought you home.” He says more to himself than you.

He stays by your side for days. You can’t even get out of bed without Azriel supporting you or carrying you where you want to go. You let him for his sanity.

Weeks later, you get up without Azriel beside you for the first time. Your knee still hurts a little but you keep moving through the pain.

As if he could sense what you’re doing, Azriel pokes his head in. You smirk at him. “Hi Azzy.” He blushes slightly at the nickname.

“What are you doing up so early?” You roll your eyes playfully. “Can’t I get up and have breakfast with my fiancé?”

“Of course,” he whispers, cupping your cheek. Azriel has been trying not to hover since you’ve fully healed. You can see the hesitation in his eyes as his other hand twitches to wrap around you.

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders you lean into Az. “Will you carry me downstairs?” You press soft kisses to his soft skin to butter him up. Azriel relaxes, scooping you to his chest.

Maybe letting Azriel hover for a little while longer won’t be such a bad thing.

[captainclickycat]

Whoops turns out I have Further Thoughts on this.

So, here's the thing. We could argue a lot about whether or not characters in horror films make stupid decisions and how it depends on the individual film and what have you all day long. And I'm sure we could come up with a few examples on either side of the argument.

But I think there's a broader point here which is that when people say "what if there was a horror movie that featured a convenient and straightforward way for the characters to get out of trouble without making any sacrifices along the way, so they did that and were fine, the end", and especially when they present this as some kind of refreshing new take on the genre...

Well, aside from the fact that this would make for a very boring and disappointing story for anyone who actually wanted to watch a horror film, it has the same energy as those people who are presented with moral dilemmas as a thought exercise and get fixated on "what if there was a way to stop the trolley and save all six people" "what if you could replace the Omelas kid with a robot" and so on. It's a copout, and it really does come off more like they're balking at the idea that suffering is sometimes unavoidable, that sometimes there are no easy answers and any decision you make comes at a cost.

It reminds me of this other post that was going round a decade or so ago, where the title was something like "horror movies for our generation" and the gist of the whole thing was essentially "if millennials were in a horror movie scenario we'd be able to fix everything and save ourselves straight away because we're so smart and progressive and have the best resources!" (Which to add a bit of extra context was clearly pushing back against a lot of the "millennials are stupid children who don't know how to do anything" think piece discourse that was floating around at the time) and a lot of people in the notes (possibly even including me, at the time) going "omg I need this!! I'd watch the shit out of this!!" which, when you think about it, is really weird when you acknowledge that the scenarios being described were essentially just "what if something that claimed to be a horror story actually just had no plot."

The idea of a horror story where the characters make sensible, realistic, understandable decisions is potentially a great premise (and again, there are plenty of existing horror stories that already meet that criteria.) Crucially, though, that can't be enough to get them out of trouble, at least not instantaneously.

If you could avoid getting lost in the scary woods just by using your trusty functioning gps tracker, there would be no story. So in an actual horror story, the gps wouldn't work, or it would be hijacked by some sinister entity and end up landing the characters right back where they started, or lead them further into danger. The characters happen to have the exact right combination of personalities and skillsets to instantly defeat the monster and go home? Well, first of all that's just dumb luck, and second of all that can't work right away either. There would be a different monster that they can't defeat so easily, or they simply don't have enough information or opportunity for most of the story to be able to actually use their collective skills against it. You managed to evade the killer and get out of the creepy log cabin unharmed? Congratulations. Your best friend is still in there, though, and they might be injured. Are you comfortable leaving them behind and hoping they can fend for themself while you get away? What if it's your child? Sometimes the "stupid" decision is the one you wouldn't be able to live with yourself if you didn't make.

I'm going to give the "cozy romance" person props because at least they're honest about the fact that they don't actually want a horror story, and at least the story they're proposing would actually have a plot, just not a horror one. I can see where their thought process was going; there is something cool about the idea of a secret secondary plot going on in the background that the protagonist managed to narrowly avoid, that we can put the pieces together about if we pay close enough attention. (It's not the best example, there are undoubtedly better ones, but it reminds me a bit of Shaun of the Dead where we get these hints that there's a doppelgänger squad running around in the background, and it seems like just a one-off joke until one of them shows up at the end with the military in tow.)

But the thing about that example and a lot of the other ones is that there's eventually a payoff. Ultimately it does affect the protagonists in some way, even if it's sometimes a subtle way. And there's something sort of weird, and just a little jarring, about the idea of reading a story where you're sort of vaguely aware that horrible things are happening to some poor bastard in the background, and your only takeaway from that is supposed to be "oh well, sucks to be them. Let's continue to enjoy watching these Sensible people kiss! Yay!" Apart from maybe being a cool sort of easter egg, what exactly is the point of this subplot, besides imparting the profoundly unsatisfying message of "you can easily avoid danger and have a wonderful life if you're just smart and sensible enough!" when that's so often and so tragically untrue in real life.

And that's why I feel like this would be a much better premise if the horror eventually caught up with the protagonist. Because sorry folks, but escaping the genre unscathed is too easy and too unsatisfying. It has to at least be a challenge, or there's no story worth reading.

You can't just replace the Omelas kid with a robot.

people are so mean about horror movie victims like. sorry but if i had gone to a cabin in the woods with my friends as a teenager you couldn't have stopped us from reading aloud from the evil tome. how were they supposed to know the ancient curse was real they're like 17

[catiroll]

A Dance for Two °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Synopsis: When your daughter wants to attend the Daddy-Daughter Ball, Sevika reluctantly agrees to take her. What begins as a simple favor turns into something far more meaningful than either of you expected.

Warning: nothin rlly

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ The tiny bow on Mira’s dress had come undone again.

You knelt in front of her, fingers carefully retying it, making sure it was straight. She stood perfectly still, her small hands gripping the soft folds of her dress, eyes locked on your movements with unusual intensity. Normally, she would have been talking—about the colors, the music, the way her shoes made soft clicks against the floor—but tonight, she was quieter than usual.

You noticed.

You always noticed.

“There,” you said, adjusting the bow one last time before pulling back. “Perfect.”

Mira didn’t respond right away. She turned slightly, lifting her dress in her little fingers and watching how the fabric shimmered under the warm glow of the lanterns. You could see the wheels in her mind turning, but she hadn’t yet found the words she wanted.

Then, finally—softly, hesitantly—she asked, “Mama… do I get to go even if I don’t got a daddy?”

Your hands stilled.

It wasn’t the first time she had asked about fathers. It wasn’t even the first time she had noticed she didn’t have one. But it was the first time she had linked it to something she might be missing out on—something other kids had and she didn’t.

Your chest tightened, and you forced a small smile as you tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “Of course you get to go, sweetheart. You don’t need a daddy to dance.”

Mira nodded slowly, but her grip on her dress remained tight. “The other girls said their daddies are taking them.”

Your throat constricted.

Before you could say anything, she looked up at you, something hopeful flickering in her wide eyes. “Could Auntie Vik take me?”

You blinked, caught off guard.

Sevika.

It wasn’t that the idea was bad—far from it. It was just… unexpected.

Sevika didn’t do things like this. She wasn’t soft, wasn’t gentle—not in the ways most people would recognize. But Mira saw her differently.

You saw it too, sometimes.

Sevika was the one who let Mira sit on her shoulders to reach the top shelf. The one who wordlessly passed her a piece of whatever she was eating, even if Mira never asked. The one who grumbled endlessly about how ‘kids were too much trouble’—only to let Mira fall asleep curled up in her lap minutes later.

Maybe… just maybe, this could work.

“You want me to do what?”

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Sevika stared at you from across the table, one brow arched, her metal fingers drumming against the worn wooden surface. You’d just finished explaining the situation, and judging by her expression, she was either irritated or amused. Maybe both.

“Take Mira to the Daddy-Daughter Ball,” you repeated, this time a little slower, as if that would somehow make it sound like less of a ridiculous request.

Sevika let out a dry, humorless laugh. “You do realize I don’t fit either of those words, right?”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “You’re not an idiot, Sev. You know that’s not what this is about.”

She leaned back, exhaling through her nose. “Kid needs a dance partner? Take her yourself.”

“She doesn’t want that.” You hesitated. “She wants you.”

That got her.

Her fingers stilled against the table. Her jaw clenched—just slightly—but enough for you to notice.

“I don’t know how to do this shit,” she muttered, looking away. “Dancing. Balls. Dressing up like some… proper person.”

You took a step closer, lowering your voice. “She doesn’t care about any of that. She just wants someone who makes her feel safe.”

Sevika scoffed, shaking her head, but you saw the tension in her shoulders, the flicker of something you couldn’t quite place in her eyes.

“You’re good with her, Sev,” you continued, softer this time. “Better than you think.”

Silence.

Then, finally, a long exhale.

“Fine,” she muttered, rubbing her temple like she was already regretting it. “But you owe me.”

A slow grin spread across your lips as you reached up, fingers lightly brushing her jaw. “Oh, I’ll make it up to you.”

She shot you a look, but there was something warmer in her expression now, something less guarded.

She was going to do it.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ When Sevika arrived at the door that evening, Mira gasped so dramatically you thought she might faint.

“Auntie Vik!” she squealed, practically vibrating with excitement. “You look so pretty!”

Sevika grimaced.

She stood stiffly, dressed in a deep navy vest over a crisp black shirt, looking like she had been physically forced into it. Her usual rough edges hadn’t disappeared—the scars on her hands, the imposing metal arm, the ever-present air of someone who had seen too much—but there was something undeniably striking about her like this.

Sevika scowled, shifting uncomfortably under your gaze. “Don’t start.”

You only smiled, stepping forward to adjust her tie, fingers lingering just a second too long. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

She held your gaze for a beat longer than necessary before clearing her throat and looking away.

Mira grabbed her much larger hand and started tugging her toward the door. “C’mon, we’re gonna be late!”

Sevika sent you a desperate, help me look.

You just waved. “Have fun!”

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ The ball was something out of a storybook—glittering chandeliers, soft melodies, rows of little girls spinning in their dresses.

Mira fit right in.

Sevika… not so much.

She was stiff at first, clearly uncomfortable under the warm glow of the ballroom. But Mira didn’t seem to notice. She grabbed Sevika’s hands, practically dragging her onto the dance floor, and demanded to be twirled.

And—surprisingly—Sevika did.

Not gracefully, not skillfully, but in a way that made Mira laugh, bright and loud and full. Sevika let her stand on her feet to waltz, rolling her eyes but not pushing her away. When the music shifted to something livelier, Mira pulled her toward the other children, insisting Sevika had to play tag.

And she did.

She let Mira sit on her shoulders to ‘catch’ the other kids, smirked when she won, and even—reluctantly—let her place a tiny, flower-shaped sticker on her metal arm as a ‘prize.’

It was a perfect night.

But then, near the end of the evening, as the last slow dance played, Mira—sleepy, warm, and utterly content—rested her head against Sevika’s shoulder and murmured, “I wish you were my daddy.”

Sevika froze.

Your breath caught.

Mira didn’t say it with sadness. There was no longing in her voice, no ache for something she felt she was missing. It was just a statement. Simple. Honest.

Sevika swallowed hard.

She could’ve brushed it off. Could’ve ignored it, changed the subject, made a joke.

But she didn’t.

Instead, after a long pause, she murmured back, “You don’t need a daddy, kid. You’ve got your mom.” A beat of hesitation. “And you’ve got me.”

Mira didn’t say anything else. Just snuggled in a little closer.

And Sevika held her a little tighter.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ When they arrived home, Mira was fast asleep in Sevika’s arms.

You expected her to pass the little girl off and leave. Instead, she carried Mira inside, walking straight to her room and tucking her in without a word.

When she turned back to you, there was something in her eyes—something raw, something hesitant.

“She called me her dad,” Sevika said, voice gruff, but there was something thick in it, something heavy. “Can you believe that?”

You smiled softly, reaching up to touch her cheek. “She loves you.”

Sevika exhaled sharply. “She’s a little brat.” But her voice cracked, just slightly.

You kissed her.

And when you whispered, “Stay?”

She hesitated.

Then—finally—she sighed and muttered, “Yeah. Okay.”

And just like that, she was home.

Masterlist

A/N: i havent made one in so long my bad sorry yall but here we go we got sevika with a duaghter cuz lowkey i can never see her with a son. have a good day wherever u aree

[doppel-doodles]

A normal post a about Kevin Barnes from Poppy Playtime.

I genuinely feel so bad for Kevin…

Like that was a kid who clearly had a lot of issues from the start, instead of getting the help he needed all that happened was him being marked off as a „problem child“.

And then he was turned into a toy:/

Read more of my full thoughts and a sorta character analysis/ramblings below cut!

Like honestly no wonder he is seething if he wasn’t troubled before he definitely is now-

Obviously he has no trust in anyone, almost every adult he ever knew screwed him over in some way, hell even the kids he shares a body with would go against what he would do.

(Great example: When Doey chases us in his monster form, it's the arms of Matthew and Jack that are trying to keep his mouth from biting us, Kevin's are trying to grab for us.)

He was hurt over and over again, clearly he wasn’t aggressive just because he wanted to be but because this was his only way of making sure he wouldn’t get hurt.

It was how he had a semblance of control, a sense of protection.

But of course the irony is: That coping mechanism brought him more pain, it was what got him killed.

Sure, maybe he could've just "calmed down", but why would he? He was hurt again, he lost everything AGAIN.

All because he listened to their judgement over his own. Kevin could've killed the player and Poppy on sight, clearly his emotions easily overpowered the other two, but he didn't.

Instead he agreed to trust them as well.

He was still willing to do that, surely if he were just a mindless monster he wouldn't be.

And you know what? I believe he blames himself just as much if not more for what happened than he blames us and Poppy and projects it tenfold.

Because maybe, JUST MAYBE-

If he didn't allow himself to trust again, then everyone would still be alive.

But he did...now see what that got him?

In his mind he's proven right.

So what's an emotionally unstable child to do? After being hurt AGAIN?

That's right.

He lashes out at the first thing he sees that had something to do with his pain:

Us.

Is he in the right? Hell nah- bro we didn't mean for that to happen! But do you seriously think this kid is thinking rationally right now??? NO! He is seeing red right now, he is in fight mode! All emotions and must I reiterate that the only way he knows how to express them is through anger and violence?

There is NO reasoning with wrath try as you might! And that hurts because yeah maybe you could've dealt with that if he was still a gradeschooler but he isn't! He is 900 pounds of living dough with a thirst for blood!

It's either our life or his now. And we already know what the outcome of that is.

Honestly I think it's better that we only hear Matthew and Jack apologise for what happened, I do not think Kevin would even if he did feel bad for what he had done.

Because why would someone who has been scorned so many times be vulnerable all of the sudden? When his main character trait is biting at those who bark at him?Why would all that rage suddenly disappear? If anything the stress of dying only causes him to lash out more.

You don't need an apology from him to feel bad for him.

He is hurting anyone with two eyes can see that and for what it's worth, I do believe deep down he knew what he was doing was wrong but it was too late for him to see any other alternatives and even if he didn't and thought he was right for doing what he did it doesn't take away from the fact that he was fucked over by life.

Kevin is not the worst part of Doey, he is just a part of him.

And that part is not just a violent hunk of playdough.

It’s a scared, confused little boy that cared just as much about every toy in safe haven as his other two components did.

Because if he didn’t why would he get so angry about their death?

Anyway thanks for coming to my ted talk-

Also feel free to agree or disagree with my take, those are just my thoughts so let me hear yours, I like discussions:}

[onceinamillionposter]

Yandere!L&D band headcannons

a/n : i literally just felt silly so I mean why not

Lead Vocalists : Rafayel

Drums: Sylus

Guitarist : Zayne

Guitarist : Xavier

Lead rapper : Caleb

With you as the manager !

Right off the bat, it was hell. You got fired from your last gig because your last managing job didn’t quite work out with a whole money laundering scheme being run behind the scenes and you having no idea, you were broke to say the least.

That was before you got that DM, the old manager of the L&D boys is retiring , and apparently you would be a good fit- although your face was all over the news. You practically jumped to the opportunity, signing your life away as you knew it.

You got situated slowly, being introduced to the members - Caleb and you hit it right off the bat , as well as Xavier and Rafayel but Zayne and Sylus were quite distant.

You learnt about them, Caleb would often pick on the others , Rafayel would be trouble just for the fun of it , Zayne was busy reading books and sketching new designs for the band and Sylus was often talking to two twins? You never pried and he never told. Xavier would always be asleep on the common room couch but would wake up when you were desperate for things done.

You had gotten used to the routine, managing accounts would have Rafayel sitting scrolling on his phone in your office often asking ,”Do your eyes not get tired looking at the screen? Why don’t we just go out!” Often you were able to get him to stop bothering you but sometimes he would drag you out regardless making it a bit too intimate.

When it was spring cleaning day , you and Zayne often bonded in silence, sometimes you asked the him about his interests, learning he’s a fan of medicine and drawing anatomy which garnered your attention so you would discuss about what you knew.

Sylus and you would work out at the gym, turning into a competition sometimes. He would help you box and you would show him pilates which he never (openly) struggled with. Sometimes you guys would go on morning runs - very early runs just so people don’t get the wrong idea.

Caleb, and you would bond over board games - monopoly, uno, hell even chess! Anything to keep the day moving. Also investing in the newest consoles (he has the bank of a billionaire he just wanted to tease) , and surprising you with them became normal. Just dance was an interesting time!

And finally Xavier, you and him watched movies and shows together and it was so fun - for you - often enough Xavier just fell asleep but when he woke up, you would cook together or at least try. He burnt more than cooked but that way okay, cause in the end the cupcakes were edible- sure they weren’t the best but they were consumable (when you look past the dark crust)!

You usually had to help them get things set up, stages, events and outfits. Everytime the tailor came in you figured that you would be sitting in a different room but for some reason or the other, everyone - minus Zayne - found a reason for you to be taking their measurements. Shirtless , might I add.

Rafayel claimed the tailor was incompetent - as if a novice like yourself would be any better , Caleb said that the tailor kept scratching at him - you took a peak at the nails and they were the dullest acrylic’s you had ever seen , Xavier said they made him uncomfortable but they had a squeaky clean record last time you checked and Sylus - ever honest - simply said “I hate them.” (you had to make them sign a non disclosure agreement after all of this)

One way or another you slowly were apart of their daily routines. But then the stranger things came, the weird lack of dating claims, back before you became manager there was tons of women that were accused of being with them but suddenly it was quiet. Too quiet, and then the first leak of you came with you and Sylus in an uncomfortably ,weirdly, intimate position. Slowly the media turned heads, it was strange it had been awhile since they had been in. any romantic spectacles and the media love drama.

Another time was Rafayel holding your hand and you holding his plushies he won at the arcade, him dragging you to the next stand. At the time it was anything but romantic but now it looked like a common date? To say the media blew up was a surprise, you had to practically beg Rafayel to make a video clarifying it was just getting him new stuff for his room.

Again a stupid photo really, Caleb holding your clip board so high you had to get on your tippy toes, it was backstage so you had to guess it was the people backstage who were working that took that awfully blurry photo- a pain it was really.

You and Zayne- to your surprise- also got a photo! Hooray! You took him out to satisfy his sweet tooth, he insisted he couldn’t work without it - (he just wanted you to himself) - maybe it was the setting? It being a kitty cafe but you know what - you still don’t know but it garnered attention , another tweet to the main profile for the boys.

But the worst, Xavier resting his head on your shoulder after a long day at the studio. He was so close, too close for you to even make an excuse at the time. But either way the criticism rolled in,

“L&D boys pass around,” “Manager managing all 5 boys”, “Common whore?” It frustrated you so deeply you wished to quit the job as much as you were payed , deciding it wasn’t worth it. But you didn’t know , they weren’t giving you up like that. Not when they slowly loved you, not yet.

[elgaladwen]

I am not trying to fight with anyone here, because I know this is coming from a place of wanting to help with the current situation, but this is so silly that I have to say something. (And thank you to the people in the comments who note that this is also a common feature of Teams itself) I don't know all the details, so maybe I am missing something, but the way this is presented is seemingly just hearsay and fear-mongering over a normal business process. It's perfectly common in government (and I imagine in the private sector too) to be able to search through Teams chats, emails, or any other records (because yes, Teams chats are records) for keywords for legal and public disclosure, disciplinary actions, or a number of other reasons. As someone else in the comments also noted, they might have installed third party software to do this in a better or different way than Teams itself. (We use a third party program at work to search emails so that we can be more thorough than what's out of the box with Outlook, for example)

I guess this sounds weird if you've never worked for the government or for a big company who issues you a computer, but this is how it works. There isn't any expectation of privacy for anything said on work devices or though work channels. Usually it's less nefarious than this sounds, like you want to make sure you got everything for a public records request, or even just something like someone needs to look up something you talked about because they forgot, but it could also be to make sure you weren't doing something that you shouldn't. And I can't speak for every employee, but in my job, we are not allowed to talk about politics during work time, because we are supposed to represent all the people of my state and that silliness, so yeah, I could get in trouble for talking about Trump and Musk on work channels, and I can't imagine my state and agency is the only one like that.

Now yes, if some random dude is doing this separately from normal processes, that is bad. But this reads as if some employees only just realized that their computers can be monitored and searched. "Some federal employees say" and "some think" is not basis for fact. I'll try to see if I can figure out what, exactly, they're talking about, but regardless, i just want people to realize that this is a very common thing. There are many insane things Musk is doing that we can worry about, without adding red herrings.

Elon Musk's teenage hackers have inserted bots into the backend of the federal system so they can spy on government workers and sniff out any disloyalty to Felon47.

This is not only highly illegal but qualifies as an act of espionage and sedition.

Remember when First Felon accused Obama of spying on him through a microwave oven? Always a projection.

[overdressedcarp]

I've been thinking for a while about the optional Magatama dialogue in The Cosmic Turnabout where you can prompt Fulbright about what's bothering him, and for both of the wrong answers, he acts like you got it right, and actively leans into the bit. For example, if you suggest that he's exhausted by life, he agrees and claims he's thinking about quitting his job and going to space. (Honestly, mood.)

(AA 5-4 and 5-5 spoilers below the cut)

It's a good line on its own: funny, and definitely relatable. With 5-5's context, though, it brushes up against a deep-seated desire to disappear, to run away and start over, something the Phantom hasn't been at liberty to do in years. He's shackled to a seven-year-old assignment, strangled by loose ends that he can't tie off. For maybe the first time in his life, he has to wake up every day and live with the effects of his actions, made blisteringly real in the form of the people he hurt.

(Do I think he's walking around harboring deep, profound remorse for UR-1? Not really, no. But the self-protective lie of "my choices don't matter because I'm not really a person" only goes so far when you're clocking into work every day to hang out with the guy who's on death row because of you, who's grieving because of you, and suddenly you're the only person he trusts to hear about the monster that ruined his life, and you planned for this but you didn't plan for this and honestly at that point I'd want to quit my job and throw myself into the vast expanse of space, too.)

Also worth noting, during this entire scene, any time Fulbright goes to answer a question or make an assertion about himself, the tinted glasses go up like a shield. Eyes hidden, hand obscuring the lower half of his face. It's something he does pretty regularly throughout the game, but it's egregious here. My man is on the defensive and he's giving absolutely zero ground.

But the big thing for me is the other "wrong" option, where if you claim that Fulbright is troubled by love, the Phantom's knee-jerk "yes, and," response is to tell a story about a carp named Love who ate a bunch of goldfish because he put them all in the same tank.

In the moment it's supposed to be absurd and comical and one more example of how hapless this guy is, but in retrospect, it's kind of telling that when the Phantom tries to conceptualize love in relation to himself, the first piece of Fulbright-flavored bullshit that comes to mind is about a creature that brings pain and death through mere proximity, not out of malice, but out of nature. As though, subconsciously, he's fixated on the notion of a foreign element that's been dropped into an otherwise peaceful space. A fish that seems like it belongs there until it devours the others.

He really could have said anything—he could have made up a story about a bad breakup, or a really sad movie, or a family member who died. He could have jumped to talking about Blackquill, and how he's concerned for his emotional state given the nature of the current case. But instead, his mind instinctively gravitates to a Love that consumes everything around it: a Love defined by its capacity for violence. There was never a world where the carp could exist alongside the goldfish without hurting them.

And idk. I feel like if he wasn't feeling some kind of way about that, then it wouldn't be bleeding into his Olympic-level improv gymnastics routine to convince Phoenix that he doesn't have any secrets and you can put the supernatural lie detector away now, thanks.

[agirlwithglam]

how to add some excitement, pizzazz and spice into your life! ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊

if you're confused, i understand. but if you're not, this post is perfect for you. this post if for the girlies who need to have something exciting in their life so that they're not so bored that they fall for some low quality man. its so that you can take back the power of how you feel and control it yourself so that nothing anybody can offer would be more appealing than what you give to yourself. also don't worry none of this is gonna be typical advice like "get a hobby!", this will be much more creative ;)

watch gossip girl!! you ALL know what i mean. literally when you feel like your life is lacking drama or something exciting, you can live vicariously through the scandals in this show

READ. "boring" no, you are. books are a great way to get lost in something thats also exciting. some book recs that i LOVED: percy jackson series, twilight, murder most unladylike, keeper of the lost cities.

do risky, scary, uncomfortable stuff on your own. a) to prove to yourself you're more than capable, and b) bc it will get you feeling groovy in no time. it can be things like talking to someone, prank calling, doing a random cartwheel in public, wearing an atrociously fabulous outfit, possibilities are endless. + plan spontaneous things you could do!

plan outfits in your head! ahhhh hahaha this is such a fav! if you know you're going out or on a trip soon, plan outfit combos and ideas of what you might wear instead of making fantasy scenarios of a loser (sorry sorry). even if you're not going anywhere, you could still decide outfits for any of the seasons or just future hypothetical scenarios

plan trips! yesss!! plan trips to countries you may want to visit, places you may want to take yourself on a date to, and not just that but actually decide when you're gonna go, are you gonna take family or friends? what you might wear, etc..

make argument/ persuasion ideas for when you hypothetically ask your parents if you can wear what you want. or, you know, something like that. if you didn't understand what i mean, basically try to think of persuading points of something that you want from your parents that they might not allow. its a good way to pass time ngl..

omgomgomg ok listen... pretend you're a spy working for/ against the government and you're here to get data... or something along those lines. wouldn't that be so cool!!

START A BLOG!! genuinely 10/10 recomend, idk i think i'd go insane without my blog lol. love it to pieces and its just something so fun to do, esp if you're a really creative person.

entertain the voices in your head. i don't mean in the troubling schizophrenia typa way, obviously. but like don't you guys entertain yourself by like mentally chatting to yourself? yeah do that! (idk if this is normal now, but i promise i don't have schiszophrenia)

if you really need some help/ are nervous, repeat affirmations. if you find yourself starting to feel anxious or scared or unloved or whatever, start repeating the opposite and do not allow those negative thoughts in. you can repeat things like "i am safe", "i am loved", "things will get better", "i am deserving of love and anything else i want."

[cinnamqnx]

plug!hawks headcanons

warnings. drug use (weed), alcohol use, swearing

♡ you meet hawks from a mutual friend, wanting to find a dealer after only getting/smoking weed from friends

♡ they recommend ‘hawks’, he goes to the same college as you but you’ve never actually spoken to him. he’s sort of like the college plug

♡ the first time he meets you, he finds you so adorable. your awkwardness when asking him what you’re after pulls a small smile on his face

♡ after that, you’ve kinda been on his radar

♡ definitely makes you pay less than what he actually charges

♡ even gives you pre rolls to save you the trouble, and this man knows how to roll

♡ over time you gradually get closer to him, seeing him at parties every weekend, regularly going to him for weed, it was inevitable

♡ i also feel like he doesn’t really fw many people, so he always had time for you

♡ lets you call him keigo, even though he usually prefers that people call him hawks and only letting close friends call him his real name

♡ sorta becomes your personal guard dog at parties 😭

♡ always grabbing you water when he thinks you’ve drank way too much and ordering you an uber home

♡ if he hasn’t really drank, he’ll drive you home after taking you to some fast food place and eating in his car (he’s lowkey panicking when he sees you whip out any sauce)

♡ refuses to give you anything stronger than weed

♡ “nah, i don’t really want you on the hard shit.”

♡ doesn’t want you ending up addicted or ruining your life for drugs and always gives you lectures about it, even if it’s unprovoked

♡ he’s just veryyyyy protective when it comes to you

♡ i also feel like dabi would also be some type of dealer, and him and keigo have this little rivalry going on

♡ warns you to stay away from him, i feel like he’d go crazy if he saw dabi speak to you or even look at you

♡ everyone around you is confused whether you’re actually together or not because of how you act together

♡ however, keigo has a reputation for sleeping around, just doing his own thing, so it’s definitely thrown you off getting involved with him in that way

♡ even though he hasn’t really been entertaining anyone since you both got closer

♡ but he’s scared to fuck things up with you so he doesn’t say anything

♡ you don’t really know what you’d refer to him as in your life either, but you’re glad to have him around at least

♡ this man is always paying for you

♡ whether you need your nails doing, hair or you just need some more clothes, keigo always is the one paying for you

♡ also always buying you food, whenever you both smoke together and you get the munchies he’s ordering food for a family of eight

♡ you always tell him he doesn’t need to, but he’s more than happy to do it, something about your grateful smile has his heart pounding

♡ you start noticing problems when keigo starts showing his jealousy towards men you’re talking to

♡ you haven’t had chance to actually date any of them, since they’re either scared off by keigo or don’t want to get involved since they can clearly sense the tension between you both

♡ now, keigo has no real reason to be jealous, you’re not his girlfriend after all

♡ but when he sees you grinding and being way too close to this one guy for his liking, he snaps

♡ in his head, it was justified, you were acting different since you got involved with him and keigo had no choice but to step back from you despite how difficult it was for him

♡ he’d had enough

♡ storming over to the two of you and throwing his drink in his face, a fight broke out immediately, the frat brothers rushing to break them apart before keigo grabs your wrist

♡ “why the fuck would you do that? you know i like him.”, you yell at him after he had dragged you outside

♡ “he isn’t good for you, y/n!”

♡ “you don’t even know that! we haven’t spoken in days, like, you’ve been distancing yourself and acting weird for weeks, and now you wanna punch the guy i’m talking to? what the fuck-”

♡ “yeah, cause i fucking like you. bro- how have you not seen how badly i’ve been wanting you for months?”

♡ after hearing that, you swear your heart stops, and suddenly the thoughts of the guy you was with crumbled

[dalishbarmitzvah]

(moving right on past the obvious and very bleak "lots of people will flat out never be persuaded to care about jews and the best you can hope for is that they are not actively happy about jewish suffering"...)

to sum up what follows (mostly, honestly, me wandering through my own work to understand), tldr:

people genuinely do not know. they do not seek out our stories, are not given them by sources they , being truly informed about current events is very complicated, and most people have poor critical reading skills, have not learned how to consume varied sources, and do not know how to synthesise from varied sources before coming to conclusions or forming strong opinions, nor do they feel that is a requirement

the 24 hour news cycle, digital news outlets, and social media have created a media news climate in which people are more likely to believe they know things than they are to actually be informed on things, and is more likely to both create and maintain echo chambers (now filled with people who believe that it would be impossible for them to be in an echo chamber)

goys are generally not incentivized to do the work to seek out or stay up to date on things involving jews, israel, or antisemitism, and are less likely to encounter them, less likely to engage with them deeply or deliberately or often, and are less likely to be able to recognize propaganda, falsehoods, stereotypes, and fearmongering present in any reporting they do encounter.

centrist news outlets are doing the world a major disservice by being largely silent about jewish issues or israel beyond the most bombastic headlines, and neither right-wing nor leftist outlets are picking up the slack in any honest way, as both peddle very narrow, very biased perspectives when and if they bother sharing them at all.

in regard to mainstream journalism at large: they are failing to do their actual jobs (thourough, nuanced, non-biased news coverage) largely because of the broken way that people get their news (see #2) and the ways in which that has deincentivized journalism from coverage of anything less likely to get clicks and views. people don't click on stuff they think is too confusing, not relevant to their lives, too boring, etc. 24 hour news becoming the norm means doing away with the kind of informed person who would read their daily or weekly paper(s) cover to cover (or at least all the actual news parts). that same person, faced with an endless barrage of articles to click on, can never finish reading, and is, therefore, less likely to start reading things that challenge them or their perspective than they might have been if they had encountered them in print. for the increasingly rare news-reading goy, this means less clicks on articles related to jewish or israeli issues, which in turn means that the sites they're clicking on are less likely to pay anyone to write those articles

many people get their news almost exclusively from their social media feeds, which are curated to show them more of what they've already engaged with, and less of anything else. video content condensing articles skimmed from sources trouble by everything i already mentioned is in no way a balanced news diet, but for a lot of people, that is all they get - alongside a chillingly common pressure to form and hold strong stances on basically every single issue you can possibly imagine, with negative social consequences for admitting you don't know or don't have an opinion on something.

in this context: people facing a constant barrage of overexposure to news and perspectives from all over the world are lead to believe that everything that is happening is something they're aware of, and, as a logical inverse, that if they haven't seen anything about something, that it may as well not exist, not be happening, and not be real. (again, see #2).

compassion fatigue. just like we can't know about everything, we also cannot care about everything. and, let's face it: not caring about jews comes very naturally to most goys. this is the part where i say that i understand your outrage, but on a very real, practical level, you must understand that we are a minority many people know next to nothing about (though they often think they know about us, which is another problem), and that goyim who do not share their lives or communities directly with jews who remind them of their jewishness fairly regularly are unlikely to be very aware of us or what we're facing.

so this is the one thing you can do something about: you can be unavoidably jewish in the lives of non-jews, and it will remind them that jews exist, that we are real and complex beings who are worthy of attention and love. you can discuss these issues, publicly or personally, and it will prompt them to learn more, and to see more in places they may not have seen it before otherwise. you can remain steadfast and informed, and you can share what you know, believe, and feel, with people who would otherwise never have a glimpse of it. you can succeed where major news outlets are failing: you can be the reason why at least a few people do know and do care. it will take patience, it will take work. it will not be easy, or painless, or short... but it will also not be thankless. be jewish. live jewishly. share your jewish perspective with people you are in community with. show them that you have it to offer, and encourage them to seek it. this, too, is tikkun olam.

aaand under the cut is the Long, Somewhat Meandering Version that i came back around and synthesized down into that still-too-long-still-didn't-read up there. in other words, that up there is the Post, and what follows is rough draft. it's worth keeping there enough for me, for my own notes, but it's a lot of words and they're not all in the best order, so.

OK. SO.

first off, it would probably help if sources that aren't israeli or jewish reported any of it. it's become very obvious to me that very few people, for reasons both more and less valid, trust israeli news sources, or seek them out. even people who read multiple american newspapers to get perspective on issues don't bother with reading outlets that are actually involved in events discussed directly. maybe if some more western journos would sprout some fucking integrity for once and source back or platform voices on the ground there, it would help a bit.

i mean, sure, plenty of people will never give a shit, either because they've got deep-seated antisemitic tendencies, or because they're just blindly apolitical (or, charitably, some perhaps because they're focused on their direct communities. i know some people really are that way, and honestly good for them). but i think, perhaps because jews are culturally raised to be critical readers who are deeply informed about the world around them, and trained from a very young age to see patterns and connections in things, that it doesn't occur to us that a lot of people are just profoundly not like that. as a result, it's easy to see antisemitism in places where it's actually genuine ignorance - and a lot of that is very difficult to combat.

it takes real, significant effort to seek out varied sources for your news, and it takes real, significant effort - not to mention learned, practiced skill! - to sift out a more holistic image of the truth by reading between the lines and seeing what is reported where and by whom and in what ways... and also what isn't. and what i keep seeing in my own critical news reading (which is far from fully comprehensive!) is that you have to go pretty far from the sources most people are most familiar with to see beyond a few very curated images of what's happening in israel, what's going on with the hostages, what's going on globally or domestically in america or in various places in europe with jews there, etc. we see the jewish story all the time, because we live it, and we look for it, and we know how to.

but the reality is that the average goy doesn't even know enough about jews, or israel, to know that not all jews are israeli or zionist, not all zionists believe the same things, not all israelis support everything the israeli government is doing all the time, and not all israelis are jewish. they frankly barely know what jews are, except that they are Other. so how could they possibly know enough to see patterns rippling throughout the entire world beyond in varied and nuanced and horrifying ways. they will never, ever see the patterns we see. they have not been trained to do so, and they are, by and large, not going to take the genuinely immense time and effort it takes to get to that point.

so, maybe they don't know because they

people only see what they see in the sources they do see (obviously) - and those sources are very, very narrow in what they report on. the only western sources that are talking about it are far right or so-"left"-we're-accidentally-reinventing-fascism-here-too type sources, and they paint the issue in the strokes that aids their preexisting perspective (which is never truly a human one for jews, nor for israelis). most people aren't going to be picking up the jerusalem post anytime soon, but they might read the new york times or the washington post or a local paper (or, more likely, watch cnn or msnbc. or fox. or whatever.). so they're only getting what those outlets report on - and they just really don't report much on the human details of things like this. so that's one thing that could be done - centrist sources could report more, could print journalism that's closer to the source more often. but people might skip those articles. i've read studies that indicate that's exactly what people do - that digital newspapers specifcally make it so much easier for people to simply never encounter or engage with stuff outside their bubble, because you choose what to click on, and you choose when to stop, and so few people read "the whole paper" anymore (or even could, considering how many things are just published scattershot, random articles dropping all throughout the day!) so it would help some if that reporting was better, but honestly, with the kind of shape that news media is in right now... that's far from straightforward.

but of course, that's only applicable to people who even consume primary news sources to begin with... and increasingly, i encounter more and more people who are willing to freely admit that they have opinions and thoughts and believe they know things about stuff they haven't even done the basic research or reading on. and frankly, i don't know how we deal with that! the news-opinions zeitgeist we're in right now is frankly weird as fuck: people are less educated, from less diverse sources, on average, while also feeling pressure to have strong opinions and thoughts that they cannot (and should not) possibly form on their own. the way so, so many people consume news increasingly from algorithmic social media streams has done immense damage - people intrinsically believe that shit they saw on tiktok is Reporting (there have been studies showing that people tend to view news/opinions coming from people they percieve as familiar to them as being more likely to be truthful, and that that translates to, y'know... people in your phone who absolutely you do not know in real life and should not be trusting that way!). carrying on from that: if they DON'T see something "reported on" within in their circle/on their feed, then that means it's not happening. not even just that they don't know about it, but literally that it's not real. because we all know everything about everything. all the time. it's right there. the algorithm feeds it to us constantly. people think that if something was happening, surely someone would have mentioned it to them by now. i don't think people are mostly aware of this, at all, either... and that makes it all the more insidious.

used to be, people knew that there was plenty they didn't know about, because they knew how hard it was to learn about things that happened far away.... but now, with anyone in the world* being able to hop on their smart phone and say 'hey i'm from the other side of the planet and here's what's happening here*' (*at least, allegedly)? i think people genuinely don't consider that things might be happening that they haven't heard about. we hear about everything, all the time. 24 hour news cycle. digital newspapers. tiktok influencers sharing bite-sized news stories distilled from articles you haven't read to know if they actually read them either, from sources you're not familiar enough with to discern how much trust to put in them. videos of people in the worst parts of war zones staring directly at you and begging you for help you cannot possibly give them. but most people don't see images of released hostages. they don't see headlines from israeli journalists - not the deep propaganda, and not the honest ones. they don't see images of israeli activists or protestors who are fighting alongside and for their palestinian neighbours. if they see anyone on the ground in the area at all, they see desperate begging, and they see hamas propaganda - and it never occurs to them that parts of this story are missing... because we all see everything all the time. if it were happening, if it were real, then we would know. surely, we would have seen it already.

it makes it all the more funny when you hear people spout off about how jews are controlling the media or israel is controlling america or whatever nonsense... like surely, if any of us, the israeli state included, actually were controlling any of that, they would make it a little bit harder for people to avoid ever knowing anything firsthand about any of it.

so what can we do?

we can help them see us, hear us, know us, and love us. not everyone, not the ones who refuse, not the ones who hate us and won't budge. but we can be present in our communities and visible to our colleages and friends.

people are not going to notice and not going to care about things they have no reason to notice or care about. they're not going to form a nuanced perspective on israeli politics or modern pogroms or whether or not ben shapiro has ever heard of pikuach nefesh or not. they're not going to understand what jews are and aren't, what we can be, what we have been, what's happening to us. they're not going to see news that isn't being reported where they get their news... unless they see YOU.

it can be maddening, to have such a tiny little impact, but also incredibly gratifying. i am one of the only visible jews in the small town where i live, and i am very visible, and i never, ever shut the fuck up about it. people who know me at all know that i am jewish, and by talking to me, i can help them understand, and learn, and pay attention, and be vigilant on our behalf. i have seen it work. i have heard people tell me that they started noticing antisemitism in news sources they used to read - and that they stopped trusting them because of it. i have had people ask me for where to look for more information on issues they had heard only whispers about and didn't trust their ability to google on their own (which i really, really appreciate). i have had people tell me how grateful they are to know me and to learn from me. without me, they would likely have either never been prompted to have those thoughts, or they would have never pursued them very far, because they would have lacked a trusted sounding board. i know, for a fact, that people on (mostly) all sides of the political spectrum around me have come closer to seeing jews, and to seeing jews as human, because of me.

i have helped leftists gain perspective on israel, showed them how to see through propaganda (israeli, hamas, and evangelical), how to notice antisemitic slogans and rhetoric, taught them about the realities of israeli mandatory service, shared about my mom's experience living on a kibbutz, taught them some of the history of zionism and of the state of israel. because of me, people i know are telling people i don't know that "from the river to the sea" derives from a sentiment of violent antisemitism, and because of me, people i know are aware that israeli activists and objectors who share their concerns about the israeli government exist and fight alongside their palestinian neighbours to make their country a better place, and they know that palestinians generally do not support hamas. and i have helped people more to the center and right learn more about all of that and more. i have taught people what judaism is, what it is to me, and what it is to people who are very different to me. i've taught them how someone can be secular, atheist, and still very much jewish. i've taught them about where those guys in funny hats fit into the continuum between the ba'al shem tov and me, how we are alike and how we are different - how we have been forced to change in different ways, to adapt. i've taught them about the history of zionist movements, about jewish anarchists and socialists, about pogroms, about talmud, about tu b'shvat. people who believed, before me, that eretz yisrael was an empty wasteland before the first zionist settlers arrived to bring it to life, and people who believed that it was a thriving arab community that faced a military invasion before the state of israel was established, both have a bit more perspective on a very complicated history, because of me. because i exist, because i will not touch money on shabbos, because i will not shut my mouth, because i wear my beard and my payos and i cover my head, because i am not ashamed of who i am, because i have taken the time to be educated and to unapologetically assist in the education of others, people in my small town in the pacific northwest know about israel as a real place, and jews as a real people - whether or not we live there, and in all our many, many complex and nuanced perspectives on it.

i don't mean to tokenize yourself or reduce yourself to being a public service. but i do mean to push back when you hear someone discussing an even they've clearly only heard on very limited perspective on. i do mean that people who know they have at least one jewish friend (or acquaintance/community member/coworker/whatever) are more likely to notice, more likely to think critically, when things involving jews, or involving israel, are brought up. and to be clear: if you do this, you have to get really good at not telling people they're wrong or stupid, because people will shut down if you do that. you have to learn how to show people that their perspective is lacking without just telling them that they're ignorant. no one wants to listen to someone who's just telling them that they're a dumber, worse version of themselves than they realised. get really comfortable with asking people where they learned something or what they've been taught in the past, and then with how to break down and reconstruct from there, if necessary. honestly, once people feel safe to not know things around you, it gets much easier for you both to simply fill in the gaps.

and i guess, what i mean is that every single day that a goy learns what tikkun olam is and what it means to jews, that that does a very real bit of the work of tikkun olam, because you have helped create a goy who knows something about jews, and what they know now is that our culture teaches us that the world is beautiful and it is broken and it is our sacred duty to help mend it.

so, to answer your question: that's what it takes. it takes remembering that the world is made up of so many little pieces, so many souls, so many fractured little shards that were once contained within spheres that once emanated from the same great oneness - and it takes reminding other individual little shards that they are also a part of the same thing as you, that you come from the same place they do... and that your paths to and from that great oneness are different, and none of them less beautiful than any other.

you can try and fail forever to mend the whole world in one day, and never make any real progress, and it will crush your soul into an even finer powder as you do.

there will always be some people do not care about us because they hate us, or at least, they believe that they do because they have been taught to, but i do not believe they will ever be the majority. most goyim do not care so much about us, simply because they haven't realised that they could love us, because they haven't gotten to know us, because they don't even know how much they would like to. if we are going to reach those goyim before the hateful ones do, we just have to keep at it.

and so long as we do not, in fact, control the media, i'd say we have a lot more chance of changing things, changing how and if people see us, by simply refusing to get out of their line of sight. it is much, much easier to hate or to hurt someone you can't see and don't know. stay where they can see us. become a welcome sight. teach them how to see what we see. the world is not illuminated by guarding of the flame, but rather by the kindling of others from it.

be light. share light. don't ever buy into the isolating darkness and its insistence that we are alone in a silent and unfeeling world, because we are not, and that only benefits those who would seek to destroy us. we are not alone, and we do not have to be alone. the universe is not doomed to a shattered eternity.

(and as for your grief and your anger? direct that at the people who benefit from all of us little people remaining ignorant of each other, remaining divided. goodness knows, there are certainly plenty of them. and i, for my own little part, do not intend to give them the satisfaction.)

Jewish hostages emerge from 16 months of underground captivity emaciated, broken and bewildered, looking for all the world like concentration camp survivors, and the world is silent.

Returned female hostages give graphic and horrifying accounts of sexual assault and torture, and the world is silent.

Antisemitic abuse and hate crime has skyrocketed, Jews are traumatised and terrified and in deep pain, that is celebrated and laughed at, and the world is silent.

THE WORLD IS SILENT.

WHAT WILL IT ACTUALLY TAKE FOR PEOPLE TO GIVE A SHIT??

I just don’t understand. I never will.

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

Bro, I really need, please, Mustaine from Woodstock, tired, to make me give him a blowjob (roughly), please

A/n: I think I peaked with this fic

Warnings: Smut, oral (m receiving), size kink, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

You loved your boyfriend, not just because he was hot but because he was genuinely the sweetest man; he'd help you make food, he'd cook when you were sick, he'd help clean the house, he loved you so purely. However, he was still really fucking hot.

You sat at the sidelines of the stage, eyeing him closely in his plain white tank and light grey sweats. You loved every inch of him, and there were a lot of inches.

Dave was taller than you by quite a bit, he'd always use you as an arm rest. If he had to squeeze past you in the kitchen he'd grab your hips and move you himself, if you had trouble reaching something he'd more often than not just lift you up instead of getting it himself.

He knew how much you loved his muscles, and he went out of his way to remind you of them.

His long hair was frizzy, having not washed it in a few days, tours were always like this. It didn't matter to you much, he still looked gorgeous in your eyes, the light glinting off his plush lips. God blessed this white man a full set, and not just referring to his lips.

The tank was tight, stretching over his chest, perky nipples making small shadows. His broad shoulders and firm muscles had your gaze for a while, but nothing compared to his sweats.

They were baggy, sure, but that didn't stop you from finding the little details. He wore them because they were comfortable, never having been one for fashion, and he was definitely comfortable.

You were at the perfect angle to see his cock swinging around in the loose fabric.Dave really didn't move about the stage much, but you caught it every time, every little shift it's where your eyes went first.

You loved watching Megadeth performing, not just for Dave, but watching Dave had your panties getting slick.

You didn't stay for the encore, rushing to his dressing room. You waited on the couch, hand moving eagerly as you waited but it wasn't enough. Thinking of Dave just made you want him more, you wanted him to fuck you so good and deep, you didn't want to walk for a month, you'd get on stage with him if it meant getting his dick faster.

All those eyes on you, watching how good he made you feel, watching you come undone while his fingers worked away on the six strings.

Finally the door opened and Dave smiled at you, letting out a heavy sigh as he sulked over and plopped down beside you. "Needy, darling?" He asked, though it was more of statement. You nodded nonetheless and leaned into him.

"Need it so bad, Davie." You mused, not hesitating to reach for his clothed cock. He let out a low groan as you palmed him, kissing your temple.

"Can you do it? The work, I mean... I'm tired." His words were mumbled but he could see how desperate you were, and who was he to deny you when you looked at him like that.

You nodded, biting your lip as you slipped off the couch onto your knees in front of him. Dave spread his legs and lifted his hips so you could get his sweats off. Of course he'd gone commando.

His half hard cock sprung free, kind of, it stood up but it was just as tired as the rest of him. Dave let out a heavy sigh as you stroked him, his head falling back onto the couch, his arms resting on the back cushions as well.

It was times like this when you felt the smallest, any time you were intimate really. You always knew you were smaller than him, but when he was hovering over you, trailing kisses down your body, when his fingers were buried deep, tickling inside you. Times when he made you see heaven and back, that's when you felt the smallest, and he was oh so big and protective. Just the thought had you clenching around nothing.

You eagerly took the girthy, blushing tip into your mouth, wrapping your lips around him. He'd worn down your gag reflex but you still usually started slow. Not tonight, you buried your nose in his ginger fluff at the hilt, inhaling deeply all the sweat that had gathered there.

You almost didn't want to move, happy to just cock warm him, but you wanted to watch his slit leaking with cum. You went fast, as fast as you could go without snapping your neck, not that you'd be apposed to going out this way. Your tongue swirling around him, tracing the veins along the underside.

God, you could do this all day just to hear his pretty little sounds. "Fuck, just-just like that." He purred, his head rolling back again when he tried to look down at you. His cheeks were flushed, pink leading down his neck.

You brought your hand up, fingers dipping under the hem of his shirt. You pushed it up, revealing his toned stomach, though he was relaxed and therefore just a little pudgy. Your fingers found his chest, cupping it just like he did with your tits, and just like he did with your tits, you started toying with his nipple, finally getting what you'd been wanting since he got on stage.

The lights weren't on him anymore, this was as real as he could be; eyes lidded, lips parted slightly as soft moans filtered past them. Dave's breathing was heavy, you did nothing to slow your pace.

Dave brought his own hand up to his chest, pinching and rolling his other nipple with his calloused fingers. It was enough to make you cum, if only. It definitely had an affect on him, his moans getting higher and his hips rolled up, pushing his cock further down your throat.

He couldn't stop, so close to cumming and everything was feeling so good, your lips wrapped around his girth, tongue moving on him, fingers on his chest. He was pulsing down your throat, so close.

Dave used his free hand to tug on your hair, forcefully pulling you away. His hand took over the role of your mouth, moving faster than you could. You heard the soft, whiny little breaths he let out, tears welling in his eyes as his hips bucked helplessly into his hand, aching for release.

His breath caught in his throat and cum shot from his pre-leaking slit, landing on your face or the floor. His eyes fluttered and his jaw dropped in ecstasy.

His hand fell from his now limp dick and he fell back onto the couch, his breathing heavy and his body spent. You stood up, crawling onto the couch and straddling his lap.

"You made a mess~" You purred, kissing him tenderly.

He moaned into the kiss, hands finding your hips and resting there. "Guess it's time for a shower, huh?" He mumbled against you, barely pulling away from the kiss.

"Finally." You teased, he gave your ass a gentle pat.

[teenidlegirl]

⠀⠀✸⠀⠀⠀𝓑eauty 𝓞f 𝓣his 𝓜ess⠀⠀┈⠀﹙⠀𝓒hapter 19⠀﹚⠀ა ︎ ﾞ .

꒰⠀⠀⟡⠀.⠀military!miguel⠀𝓍⠀fem!neighbor!reader⠀.⠀⟡⠀⠀꒱

⠀ ᰦ 󠄀 ྀ .⠀♥︎⠀summary.⠀atoning to his mistakes, miguel has been putting much dedication to you and the baby. he accompanies you to your next doctors appointment and find out the sex of your baby then head to the grocery store where you meet a friend.

⠀ ᰦ 󠄀 ྀ .⠀♥︎⠀content.⠀fluff, pregnancy, timeskip, mildly suggestive (mdni), ultrasounds, pet names, swearing, gender reveal, sweetheart miguel is back, mini jealous!miguel

❛⠀ previous chapter⠀⋅⠀masterlist⠀⋅⠀next chapter ⠀❜

everything has been different, in a good way.

in a very good way.

miguel has been working his ass off, keeping his promise to work for you and the baby, show you that he wants to be a part of this family. he has been doing everything, dedicating himself to you both. and by everything, he means everything. the man doesn’t really let you don’t much, even if you’re still in your first trimester barely beginning the second. you can still function and even told miguel that you’re fine but he heavily insisted you should not worry about anything but rest, for yourself and the baby. although, you did win somewhat of the argument about doing little things like taking luna out for walks like usual, passing him dishes since he would be washing them, doing and folding laundry.

if you’re craving something, no matter what time of the day or night, he’s getting it for you. during the middle of the night, you were craving ice cream but there wasn’t any in your fridge. miguel saw your face of disappointment as he entered the kitchen, since he heard you get out of bed. also, he’s been staying at your place, basically abandoned his own apartment. his excuse was he needed to be there for you. all of his belongings were brought over to your place, just clothes and bathroom necessities. the only time he would go back to his place was if he forgot something. miguel really didn’t have that much, not that he needed anything honestly. concern course through his body as he approached you and asked what was wrong. his heart melted at that cute pout when you said there was no ice cream. even melted more when that pout was replaced with a bright smile as he brought ice cream from the nearest convenient store. miguel would literally fight demons just to see that gorgeous smile.

every morning you always find him in the kitchen cooking breakfast. the man never let you touched the stove. even when you try sneaking to the kitchen to make yourself something, his baritone voice from behind startles you. no matter how much you plead or show off that cute pout of yours, miguel will gently tell you no and leave a kiss on your forehead then gently guide out of the kitchen so he can make whatever you wanted. he always find you grumpy utterly adorable. you can’t stay upset at him either, your heart always melt at his kindness in the end.

miguel also contributes to baby planning. remember when he fixed that crooked shelf of your bookshelf? the man decided to build a crib for the baby. no matter how many times you said he didn’t have to and suggested he should buy one so he didn’t have to go through the trouble, but miguel said it was his own apology to the baby. it was impossible for your heart to not flutter at that. although, it was super cute watching him craft and build the crib. standing by the doorway, admiring him with a soft smile. how dedicated and focus he was. especially when his muscles ripple as he maneuvered around. that tight shirt outlining his shoulders and biceps perfectly.

“enjoying the show, hermosa?”

his teasing snaps you out of trance and you just roll your eyes. “most definitely.”

that stupid cute smirk on his face kills you every time. even if he’s being a bit cocky, he still manages to make you a bashful mess.

throughout the day, you’ll offer him food and a drink during breaks which you encouraged. a grateful smile illustrated on his slightly sweaty face as he takes the late and glass from your hands. once the crib was built completely, you and miguel admire the cute little piece of furniture, handcrafted by the baby’s father. you adore it so much.

“i love it, miguel.” you smile up at him. “we love it.”

miguel’s heart leaps in his chest. he adored the ‘we’ part, he hopes the baby will love it when they get older and find out about its origins.

since he built it, you got to decorate it. although you don’t have a nursery since your apartment has one bedroom, you dedicated the small corner of your room as a tiny nursery. the theme is moon and stars with a neutral color scheme so it can accommodate either gender. everything you bought fits the theme, a soother toy for the crib, a few pillows, blankets, and a crescent moon plushie. all with the help of miguel.

a thin layer of tears of happiness swell in yours as you admire the cute tiny nursery for your baby. “i love it so much…” you let out a tiny sniffle.

miguel wraps an arm around you, gently brings you closer towards him in a loving embrace, and you lean into him like honey. “it’s beautiful.”

other baby planning is searching for necessities such as a stroller, a carseat, and diapers but you reassure him that your sister-in-law will give you all her baby stuff since her and your brother are done with kids after the third one and the kids are grown up. even some of your cousins offered to give you some of their baby stuff. at least your bank account won’t suffer. you’re grateful to have a supportive family and so is miguel. it’s truly a big help for you both.

beside baby planning, miguel has also been doing research about babies and parenting. not only the man is in the military and a basically a blue collar but also a major nerd. you would find him reading articles about babies and parenting on his phone. a big smile on his face as he tells you tips and facts. you find it adorable how invested he is. reading all that information makes him more excited about becoming a father. that smile says everything.

the man is basically your servant, expect you don’t want to think of him like that, he’s the man you still love and who’s trying his best to atone his mistakes.

because of his hard efforts and dedication, your relationship is rebuilding and becoming more secure. the trust you had for him is gradually coming back. the intense dedication impressed you undoubtedly. of course you knew miguel is a dedicated, hardworking, and committed man due to his military experience. but this was different, more heartfelt. you appreciate everything he has done for you. although forgiveness is appreciated, miguel is doing this because he wants to. becoming a part of this family and rebuilding his relationship with you are his main priorities. you and the baby are his priorities.

several weeks go by and you’re in your second trimester, which means you’re showing more. a more prominent but cute baby bump. miguel never got so emotional yet obsessed about something before. the first time he saw your slightly bigger pregnancy bump, tears swelled up in his eyes. the sight is utterly heartwarming and adorable. his baby is growing and resting peacefully in their beautiful mother’s belly, you. oh god you, you look adorable with the baby bump now that it’s more prominent. his heart flutters every time he sees you and how your bump sticks out in all your clothing, especially in dresses since you start disliking wearing anything else since dresses give you freedom. whatever you wear, even a goddamn trash bag, you’re still beautiful.

miguel is utterly mesmerized by you, he always is, but especially now with your pregnancy and also the miraculous works of the female body. he has always admired women, especially mothers because they sacrifice their bodies to create and nurture life. it was a miraculous thing. seeing you enduring the changes of pregnancy and creating life is so mesmerizing. your belly expanding to accommodate the little life growing inside you, your womb as their cocoon protecting them indefinitely. it’s just so beautiful.

the changes of pregnancy also made him a little wilder. miguel is already obsessed with you and adores you to infinity. but now you’re more rounder, plumper, and thicker, it drives him fucking crazy. the evidence of his seed is more prominent and it drives miguel wild. it’s unclear why but seeing you waddling around with that cute baby bump makes him feral. the effects of motherhood so looks fucking good on you. miguel couldn’t resist you before, now it’s been more impossible to. the man utterly down bad.

your thicker hips, swollen breasts filled with milk, gradually expanding belly. everything ignites a primal desire in him. you waddling around the apartment, doing just normal thing the like cooking, cleaning, reading, or simply just standing there, it makes him hard. you just look so fucking beautiful.

is it weird to get a boner from your pregnant girlfriend by absolutely doing nothing and just being pure innocent? maybe but that proves miguel’s utter adoration for you, how much he loves you.

since you’ve been ensuing many bodily changes, you’ve never felt so achy almost everywhere. back, boobs, belly, feet. thankfully you have a gentle giant by your side to provide you the best messages ever. miguel would relieve you of the achy feeling with gentle yet firm messages with those large, calloused hands of him that you love. rubbing out those twisted knots, making you softly sigh or moan in relief. he is the best stress reliever, in both meanings.

you know when the dads lift up the mom’s belly so she can be relieved of the baby weight?

yeah, miguel does that.

one day, you’re trying to pick out another book to read but the weight of the baby was bothering you. the groan you let out captured miguel’s attention as he was coming back from the bathroom.

“sientes mal, preciosa?” he approaches with a concern look on his face, leaving a hand on the small of your back and rubbing gently circles.

“this baby weight is driving me crazy.” you groan, leaning your forehead against the bookcase.

his heart aches at you feeling uncomfortable. he wishes he could do something, take it away. then, miguel remembers reading about lifting up the mom’s belly to relieve her of the weight.

“i… i have an idea that could help.”

“i’ll take anything.” you groan, shoulders slumped.

his hands rise up to your shoulders. “can you stand up for me?” his tone very so gentle.

letting out a sigh, you obey and stand up straight, leaning back from the bookshelf. your body jolts slightly in excitement when you feel miguel pressed up against you from behind.

“do you trust me?”

his question makes you turn to look up at him with slightly furrowed brows, as if he’s crazy to ask that because of course you trust him.

“always.”

his hands give your shoulders a gentle, loving squeeze before he guides you to turn back. your heart flutters when you feel his hands lower dow, sneak up to your swollen belly, and delicately holds it in his grasp. ever so slowly and delicately, miguel lifts up your belly. as he lifts it piece by piece, suddenly you feel the weight of it vanish.

“oh fuck—” instinctively, you close your eyes and tip your head back against his chest. a big wave of relief courses through you. it feels so amazing.

“how does it feel?” miguel asks softly, still holding your swollen belly with such delicacy.

“feels fucking amazing.” a loopy smile on your face makes him chuckle.

it truly does feeling fucking amazing. all that weight from the baby vanished. you feel very floaty and god do you want to feel like this forever.

miguel is happy to see you so relieved and content. that is all he wants to do.

“i know this is gonna sound weird as fuck but it feels like you got me pregnant again.”

your silly comment makes him laugh.

“i take it that you feel good right now.”

“fuck yeah. do this more often, please.”

he softly chuckles. “claro, mi amor.”

and miguel did do it often. if it means you’ll feel better and happy, he will do it forever.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ┈ ୨ ₊ ┈ ౨ৎ   ┈ ₊ ୧   ┈

it’s time for another visit to your OB and this time you’re not alone. miguel is accompanying you and you are so excited. he is as well, finally doing what he should’ve done beforehand. you knew he felt guilty about missing your first appointment but you reassure him that you’re happy he’s going this time and the next visits. but you both are mainly excited because you get to find out the sex of your baby. nether of you have preferences, only a healthy baby. however, it’s still something to be thrilled about.

you arrive at the clinic and check in with the receptionist, the same elderly lady who always greets you with a kind smile. her eyes widen a little due to miguel’s appearance but in a good way, greeting him the same smile which he returned one of his own. taking a seat, you and miguel wait patiently in the lobby. glancing around, there are variations of visitors. couples, some filling out paperwork, some scrolling through their phones, those alone. the women who are alone reminds you of your first visit. the loneliness and anxiety you felt that shitty day. no support by your side as you venture through that tough road. you were like them, all alone. although you don’t know their situation, you still sympathize for them. you wish them nothing but love and care.

but this time, you aren’t alone. beside you is the man you love dearly. the same man who is holding your hand, his thumb caressing the back of your hand. this time, you feel the support and love from your partner. miguel knows how much this means to you and will always be by your side. to this day, he still can’t believe he missed this and left you alone that day. the guilt still lingers, especially now, but he’s atoning to his mistake by being here with you and you can’t express enough how thankful you are. those thoughts makes you lean into him and rest your head on his arm. miguel quickly wraps his arm around your shoulders so your head rests on his chest and can embrace you properly.

“thank you for being here with me.” you whisper, resting a hand on your swollen belly.

“siempre, mi amor.” he gives your shoulder a loving squeeze and places a kiss on the top of your head.

you peek up at him, smiling. “you excited?”

“yeah, but also a bit nervous because… i never seen them before so…”

“i get it but trust me, it’s actually kinda fascinating to see them. i remember i was so fascinated seeing them for the first time, just a tiny blob inside. it was super weird but cool. now it’s a bigger blob.”

he let out a soft chuckle. “well, i can’t wait to see this blob and know if they’re a boy or a girl.”

“me too.” you rub your swollen belly, mentally letting them know how excited you are to see them.

soon, your name is called. miguel helps lifting you up with his hands and you both follow the nurse to your OB’s office. she informs you both that dr. chelsea will meet you momentarily. miguel helps you once again sit down on the examination seat and holds onto your purse as he takes a seat beside you.

a few minutes later, a knock on the door alerts you that dr. chelsea has arrived. the blonde woman enters the room, greeting you with a smile before her expression contours into a surprised one when her eyes land on the abnormally large man beside you.

“oh hello, surprised guest.” the woman approached you both, still smiling. “are you—”

“this is miguel, the baby’s father.” you reveal.

her brows rise in surprised. “oh, wonderful. nice to meet you, miguel. i’m dr. chelsea.” she approaches and reaches out a hand to shake.

“likewise, dr. chelsea.” he quickly stands up and gently shakes her hand before sitting back down.

“i see things are improving.” a little smile on her face as she takes a seat near the monitor. she recalls from your first visit about the father’s absence.

“we’re doing great, actually.” you glance at miguel with a smile, truly meaning your words.

he mirrors your smile and gives your hand a loving squeeze which you reciprocate.

“i’m very glad to hear that.” the woman spares you both a smile, pleased to hear improvement. “alright, starting off, how are you feeling?”

“sore sometimes but this man helps me out. other than that, just turning into a balloon.”

“i give her massages.” he smiles sheepishly.

she chuckles while typing away on the keyboard. “good, she’ll need those for a while.” she spares a grin at miguel then looks back at the screen. “no abnormal pain or anything?”

“no, thankfully.” you feel miguel squeeze your hand once again, a mutual feeling.

“good, good.” scooting away from the monitor and turn towards you, she clasp her hands together excitedly with a smile. “alright, you both ready to find out the sex of your baby?”

you and miguel share a glance, smiling at one another before nodding.

you turn back to the doctor. “we are!”

once you’re prepared, the ultrasound begins. yours and miguel’s eyes are trained on the screen as dr. chelsea maneuvers around to find out your baby’s sex. miguel lets out a soft gasp when the baby comes into the picture. a black and white blob on the monitor, it’s heartbeat echoing through the room. his heart raced in his chest the longer he stares, completely fascinated and enamored by seeing his baby for the first time. you were right, it is oddly satisfying. he feels your grip on his hand tightens a little as the anticipation grows stronger.

a smile crept onto the doctor’s face. “well, congratulations, you two. you’re having a baby girl.”

both your hearts skip a beat at the reveal.

a girl.

you’re having a girl.

tears swell in your eyes as you admire your baby girl in the monitor before quickly turning to look at miguel, who has tears of his own.

“we’re having a girl.” you say with teary eyes of joy.

waves of emotions hit miguel like a tsunami. happiness, shock, anxiousness. he is going to have a daughter. he is going to be a father to a girl. for some reason, he feels more emotional about this. having a daughter feels more… emotional.

a sudden wave of motivation courses through him. motivation to become the best father for his baby girl. motivation to try his best for his baby girl.

now he has two girls to take care of.

his two girls, you and his daughter.

never has miguel felt much happiness. of course you make him happy. this is another type of happiness yet you are part of the reason.

“we’re having a girl.” he repeats back to you, smiling at you through teary eyes as well.

you don’t hesitate to pull him into a tight, loving entrance as you both break into happy tears. an intimate and emotional moment while celebrating the news of your baby, a daughter.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ┈ ୨ ₊ ┈ ౨ৎ   ┈ ₊ ୧   ┈

to celebrate the big news, you decide to get ice cream. you and miguel head over to the grocery store, not only for the ice cream but groceries in general since you need milk, eggs, and other things. miguel pushes the cart while you venture through the store, keeping a hand on your swollen belly while wandering around. a gleeful smile graces your face as you arrive at the ice cream aisle and pick out your favorite flavor, which miguel finds it adorable.

“does the baby want ice cream or you?” he can’t help but ask, grinning like an idiot.

“both.” you flash him a gleeful smile and place the ice cream container in the cart.

“i gotta use the restroom, i’ll be back, amor.” he quickly leaves a kiss on the top of your head.

“okay, also get chips on your way back, please!”

miguel nods as he walks away. at first, he didn’t want to leave you alone but his bladder was telling him it was about to burst. he knows you’ll be fine and can take care of yourself, it’s just protectiveness.

while wandering around and quickly grabbing lemonade from the fridge without looking, your hip bumps with the cart making it accidentally bump into someone else. it was a light bump but it still startled you a little and caused you to panic.

“oh shit, i’m sorry!”

“it’s alright.”

you recognize that deep, rich baritone voice. your eyes widen in surprise at a familiar face.

“logan?”

a small smile graces his lips. “hey, sweetheart.”

you can’t hold back the smile forming on your lips. the same dark brown hair and those iconic sideburns. instead of a tux from last time, he wears a red flannel and dusty blue pair of jeans.

damn, he looks good as hell. undeniably so.

“hey! it’s a been long ass time.”

“sure has, that baby has gotten bigger.” he gestures at your much bigger baby bump.

instinctively, you rest a hand on your swollen belly. “yeah, she’s getting bigger.”

those thick brows rise, surprised. “she, huh?”

“yeah! just found out today.”

“well, congratulations, sweetheart. she’s gonna be beautiful just like her mother.”

that makes your cheeks warm. “still a charmer.”

logan shrugs, smirking. “just being honest.”

while conversing with logan, miguel returns with the bag of chips you requested. the smile on his face drops when he sees the man from wedding talking to you once again. the scene emits a frown on his face.

what the hell is that guy doing here?

how did he find you again?

flashbacks of the wedding reception plays in his mind. that same man talking to you and dancing with you. miguel remembers how jealous, angry and hurt he felt watching you with another man. at the time, you weren’t together and you hated his guts so you had the right to engage with whoever. but that didn’t mean his heart wouldn’t ache when you did.

but now things are different and you’re back together. not only he feels jealous, also slightly possessive since you’re together again so you are his and he’s yours, but miguel also feels a bit insecure.

he knows you love him. the way you smile at him, give him hugs, care for him are proof. however, he can’t ignore the doubts plaguing his mind.

what if he isn’t good enough for you like that guy?

what if you decide to be with that guy than him?

part of him still wants to beat the shit out of that guy for approaching you once again, don’t get him wrong. however, miguel can’t control who you talk to. you can talk to whoever you like, it’s your right and no one else’s because you’re your own person. everyone has their own right and freedom.

it’s just jealousy and insecurity.

with a sad sigh, miguel finally walks over to you. the bag of chips still in his hand. you notice him from your peripheral and immediately look at him with a smile, happy to see your man.

“hey.” you say softly.

“got your favorite.” he places the bag in the cart.

“thank you.” you reach out to grab his bicep and give it a loving squeeze, a sign of gratitude.

logan, on the other hand, is taken aback by miguel’s presence. especially when he recognizes him from the wedding who got pissed off by the waiter and believed he was a total asshole for his attitude. his eyes shifted between you and miguel, thinking.

“oh! miguel, this is logan from peter’s and mj’s wedding. logan, this is miguel, the baby’s father—”

“her boyfriend.” miguel cuts in, a slightly stern look in his eyes as he holds out his hand to shake.

logan hums, concealing his surprise that miguel is the father but doesn’t comment on that and shakes miguel’s hand, which was a firm grip. “i remember you, parker’s best man.”

“we just happened to bump into each other again.” a soft chuckle leaves your lips.

“that’s our motto, i guess.” logan said.

“hm.” is all miguel could say, crossing his arms over his chest. he tries to not let that ‘our’ bother him but it does a little. although, he is trying to be civil.

you notice miguel’s behavior, sensing the jealousy. you feel bad for him. you recall the last time he saw you with logan and how upset he was. this time is different now you’re together again and you want to reassure him that you love him and only him. on the way home, you plan on showering him with love.

to make him feel better, you wrap your arm around his so they’re linked together and lean into him. the movement makes his heart skip a beat.

you turn to logan. “how’s construction going?”

logan shrugs nonchalantly. “it’s going alright, we’re almost finished with the last part of it actually.”

“oh wow! that’s great!”

that peaks miguel’s interest. “you’re in construction?”

logan’s eyes move up to him. “yep, wolverine constructions, family owned.”

those thick eyebrows rise in surprised. “wolverine constructions, your company built alchemax.”

the shorter male nods, crossing his arms. “it was a bitch to built but it came out decent.”

“my father is the ceo. the building turned out great.”

now logan is the one surprised. “well, your old man paid us a pretty big ass load.”

before you even know it, the two men are engaging in a conversation, babbling about construction. you remember miguel’s hobby of building things so it made the conversation more interesting. it’s nice to see them bonding. part of you was worried they would get at each other’s necks but thankfully they were simply bonding over similar interests.

miguel’s perspective of logan changed. he knew he didn’t seem like a bad guy, it was just jealousy. turns out logan is a pretty decent hardworking guy. logan shares similar thoughts about miguel as well.

perhaps a new friendship.

after enough chitchatting about construction, you and miguel bid logan farewell. he offers miguel one final handshake and you a smile before walking away, leaving you and miguel alone like before.

“he’s a decent guy.” he states.

a pleases smile on your face. “he is and i’m glad you two had a cute geeking out moment.”

miguel rolls his eyes. “we weren’t geeking out.”

you scoff. “you literally looked like little kids talking about your favorite superhero.”

another eye roll but he smiles this time. “tonta.” he ruffles your hair teasingly, making you squeal. “vamos, amor. we don’t want the ice cream to melt.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ┈ ୨ ₊ ┈ ౨ৎ   ┈ ₊ ୧   ┈

you and miguel return home, your apartment since miguel is basically living with you. on the way to your apartment, you didn’t carry a single thing. miguel’s hands were filled with plastic bags. no matter how many times you protested about at least carrying one bag, miguel wouldn’t even let you touch them.

“you’re already carrying our daughter, you’re not carrying anything else.” he plants a kiss on your forehead, adoring that cute pout of yours.

while miguel puts away the groceries, you head to the bathroom to slip out of your dress and put on a nightgown to feel more comfy. entering the kitchen, your boyfriend welcomes you back with a smile.

“quieres takeout?” his smile widens when he sees your eyes sparkle in excitement.

“yes, please! we’re craving chinese, actually.”

“like mother, like daughter.” miguel walks up to you and gently place his hands on your baby bump.

“great minds think alike.”

once miguel ordered takeout and it arrives not too long afterwards, you both sit at the couch making munching on the food while watching ‘impractical jokers,’ which was your request.

miguel tries to focus on the show but his mind takes him somewhere else, right back to those doubts from earlier at the grocery store. while observing you talk with logan from afar, miguel felt a mixture of feelings. jealousy, insecurity, and sadness. you seemed so pleased to be talking with logan. how brightly you smile at him, making miguel’s heart ache with jealousy and hurt.

what did logan had that miguel didn’t?

ever since he returned, miguel felt so undeserving of you. but now seeing with another man who makes you smile like that, oh he felt really undeserving.

what if you’re better off with logan who is a good man than a broken, traumatized man like himself?

logan didn’t break your heart and abandoned you like he did. logan didn’t make you cry for endless weeks like he did. logan didn’t hurt you like he did.

you notice how deep he was in his thoughts by the frown on his face, brows furrowed and slightly hunched over. also how tightly his gripping the small box of chow mein to the point of almost bursting.

“miguel?” you place a gentle hand on his shoulder, making him snap out of those negative thoughts.

he turns and looks down at you in surprise, realizing he was too deep in those damn thoughts.

“you okay?” your voice laced with concern.

damnit, he really was overthinking too deep to the point of making your worry.

a sigh escapes his lips. “yeah… perdón, preciosa.”

your brows furrowed. “you sure?”

“yeah, don’t worry.”

he’s lying and you know it. there is something bothering him and you want to help him, encourage him to tell you so you can help him.

placing down your food on the coffee table, you turn to face him better. “miguel… something’s bothering you. you can tell me, please?…”

shit, you know him so well. now he can’t back out, not with that sweet tone of yours.

he places down his food beside yours on the coffee before tanning a hand through his hair and signing. “it’s stupid but… i remember how happy you were talking to logan and… what am i saying?…” miguel looks away, feeling frustrated with himself.

miguel relaxes when he feels your hand on his forearm, your soft touch always does. you wait patiently for him to figure out his words, a silent message that it was okay and you’re here for him.

“just seeing you so happy with him… i feel like i don’t make you feel happy the way he does…” another sigh falls from his lips. “he’s a better man than me and i feel like i don’t deserve you, i’m not good enough.”

your heart shatters at that. it’s understandable why he feels this way, you want to wish away those doubts and pull him into your arms. ever so gently, your hands come up to cup his face and miguel looks at you with puppy eyes that melts your heart.

“you are enough, miguel.” you say softly but sincerely. “i understand why you feel like this and i’m gonna tell you that i love you. there’s only one man that i love and i’m looking right at him.”

back at the grocery store, you told logan that you and miguel, the baby’s father since he didn’t know his yet, are back together so you told logan that you wanted to remain friends and he had no problem with that. ever so understanding man.

miguel can’t prevent the tears prickling in his eyes as he looks at you with utter adoration.

“everything you’ve been doing for us, for this family, i’m forever fucking grateful. that is dedication and commitment, miguel. you’re doing a fucking amazing job and we love you for it. i’ll say this and remind you everyday, you are enough and i love you.”

a single tear trials down his cheek, which you tenderly wipe with your thumb.

you’re so fucking beautiful.

how did he obtain an angel?

his hands lay on top of yours as he close his eyes and rest his forehead against yours. you stay like that until you lean closer and press your lips on his.

your first kiss in what feels like an eternity.

miguel doesn’t hesitate to reciprocate, kissing you with pure adoration. god he missed your soft lips so much. an addictive taste that leaves him wanting for more. he just wants to kiss you forever.

the kiss continues until you gasp when you feel a kick in your stomach, startling you a little.

miguel’s eyes widen in concern. “amor, qué paso? are you hurt? is it the baby?” he expects a cry of pain but instead your lips curl up into a big grin, making him confused. “amor, what hap—”

“she kicked.” you grin.

those brown eyes instinctively glance down at your swollen belly then back up to your eyes. “wait really?” now, he had a grin too.

“yeah! look!” you grab his left hand and place it on your belly. another kick, right against his palm.

“she kicked!” miguel repeats excitedly.

both of you laugh in excitement. your baby girl kicked for the first time, she is communicating with you. perhaps the kiss got her excited.

your lips collide once again and you feel another kick, making you and miguel laugh.

those doubts he had earlier vanished completely. you love him and miguel loves you, as well as your unborn daughter that he’s excited to meet. he has his family and miguel will not ever let go of you both.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ♡ @reverieblondie @nina-from-317 @kavimoo @aly29a2001 @lazyjellyfish300 @tojishugetiddies @aphinthestars @novelaaaaaaaa @imamexican @obessgurlll @deputy-videogamer @lovehadlovelost @agoddoesnotplead @saintdiior @whoopwhoppghost @tomalymme @skadiloki @asterrrrose @glossygreene @youcantseem3 @resident-clown @kutsipie @zuevcs @totorotales-08 @meowgirl1 @sukunash0e @sirendyes @leahnicole1219 @lisa-takeshi @yehet-moi-ohorat @slowlyshycomputer @wasitforrevenge @webshoootrz @f1-hoff @chaeriescola @espressopatronum454 @trocaderoisyummy @totallygyomeiswife @mcmiracles @celestialgarden23 @tatatida @whdhjfjvjvjfjdhsj @nocturne-light @xenop0p @juneonhoth @ghostsdoll @marshmallowsforever @ibelyss @imissubaee ( if you’re not tagged, age/age-range is require since this fic is 18+, context for reasons why )

© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡

[contamination-zone]

warning im a yapper

hello ummm just wanted to say!!! i really like the dynamic you give fresh and nightmare/color with the whole “cat who goes to different houses to get fed twice” thing. nightmare and his weird cat that he has probably locked in a basement a few times. color and this guy he picked off the road because he looks weird and decided he can solve this mess. fresh does not have any strong personal feelings towards either of them.

i very much so like the comic thing where nightmare and ccino were talking about fresh and ccino thought he was a kitten cat,,, no he is not but he acts like one. “he keeps crawling on my lap” that is a grown man get him away!!!! he has a dog cage i think that he is put in sometimes for naughty behavior. he doesn’t really care because he’s allowed his gameboy though. do you think nightmare ever sprays him with water when he does something bad. and this is like a grown adult. what

maybe i just like the trope of dehumanization (bonus if with someone who’s weirdly chill with it like fresh) but whatever,,, your art!!!! it gives me life!!! i very much enjoy the pixely type style and how freak you draw fresh. he’s a fucking creature he is. something is wrong with that guy. and i love him soooo much. so creature. he’s the kind of guy to do that thing where you walk on all fours up the stairs.

AND the way you characterize him is!!!! so good!!!!!!!!! he is so fucked up and weird and terrible and manipulative!!!!!!! he takes advantage of others’ empathy and feelings because he has very little of it himself and whenever he does feel it he does not like it!!!!!!! he looks at a guy with a savior complex and goes yeah i can mentally fuck him up for the next seven months to get something cool i want. he’s just actually terrible and i love him for that.

i also!!! don’t know too much about CB but i feel that fresh’s dynamic with them (him?? i forgor) is very interesting from what i have seen!!!!!! and their shimeji is very cute i still need to download it but i like it a lot :3

OKAY UHHH BYE!!!!! I LIKE UR ART A LOT…… HAVE A GOOD DAY!!!!!! 10/10 fresh posting on your blog love him a lot he is my wife (he feels nothing towards me)

THANK YOU!!! I see you mass reblog things sometimes it makes me giggle :-]

I yammer back...

Glad you like the dynamics haha X] Fresh having very little personal feelings about people is fun and interesting to me. As someone who has trouble connecting and low empathy, its nice to depict someone like me. [Guy interacting with people who are a Lot more invested than he is ghghg]

Fresh would only accept being put in the cage because he can teleport out. Anything like that is only for the Aesthetic, which I think Nightmare would still be down for. Shove that thang into some awful little crate, as a treat. [Honestly I think Fresh would like to get in some nice dog crate with a blankie. Small hide / den thing to nap in :-]]

ALSOOOO dehumanization and freak who doesn't mind is my favorite dynamic <333. Fresh doesn't mind because... he isn't a monster? or a human? And he doesn't have a human/monster centric view of the world. Being seen as a human/monster isn't in anyway important to him, because he doesn't seen it as better/worse. He is the way he is, why does it matter?

Its like, I don't think a cat has very strong opinions on the fact it isn't a man. I also think Fresh is incredibly self-centered and when he's on a high point, sees himself as above humans/monsters. Of course he's not seen as human, he's Fresh! he's a sick-nasty parasite! way cooler. [annnddd way cooler that he gets to eat dog-treats. heck yeah!!]

Also I drew up a little thing with CB and Fresh. Its ahh, I like them a lot I just get nervous speaking about them because its suuuch a oc & canon are besttties that it makes me feel a bit cringe... I also get nervous because CB and Fresh have a very, toxic?? friendship.

Fresh is very possessive and strange about it, because this is his Only friend and he has very dysregulated emotions. Not being able to feel positive emotions often makes it so when he does, he gets very odd about it. So its a lot of... trying to keep CB to himself, at the detriment to CB's goals and ambitions. [CB is trying to track his family down, and Fresh uh. knows. where they are. and is not telling him :-)]

I dunno I think Fresh being genuinely friends with someone but also an awful person about it is like, sorely missing from the fandom landscape. He's a bad person but bad people can still form meaningful relationships and!!! I think that should be explored :-]

[They do eventually get somewhere more healthy. As in, Fresh's whole Thing is revealed, a lot of shinanigans happen, CB lives with his family and Fresh and CB reconnect and become friends again, just with like. Fresh trying actively to do "good person things" to make sure CB's family doesn't shoo him off [I ADOREEE good actions for morally ambiguous reasons!!!], and CB with the understanding that his best friend is Kinda a Freak.]