#our cat walter

[n3ongold3n]

When you know your brother Is Near somewhere

[n3ongold3n]

[foone]

A world of friends

In the late 2030s, a research lab discovers how to travel to alternate earths. And what's even better, they've figured out how to best monetize it too: tourism.

See it turns out there's not a lot of variation. There's a nearly infinite number of earths, but it's not like you're traveling to an alien planet or Narnia. They're all pretty... Earthy.

And they turn that into a positive: all earths are similar, but the small differences are what counts. And they're always searching for worlds with interesting divergences from our own, as potential destinations.

Spend a weekend with Netflix on the world where Walter Disney became a little-known architect, and the face of children's media is completely different. Visit the world where the US Revolution failed, and most of the Americas remains part of the commonwealth.

Safari through the world where humans died out or never evolved, see the megafauna we weren't around to extinct.

The world where the planet's population is 97% Christian but they're also nudists because they associate nudity with the innocence of the Garden of Eden.

And if you're looking for a challenge, visit the world's where climate change has already melted the ice caps, the world's where the cold war went hot, the world where the first world war is also the last one, and it's still ongoing.

There's just one minor problem with their plan of setting up an industry to portal people to other worlds:

Someone else is already using it.

Their interdimensional tech relies on creating wormholes using a complex arrangement of superconducting magnets and there's a characteristic burst of neutrinos when the event horizon forms.

They have to monitor them to properly "aim" the wormhole, but their early work is thrown off by seeing spurious emissions coming from outside their facility, which they later realize are exactly matching their technology.

They're just seeing the wormholes from the other end.

They partner with a government agency, explaining their discovery, and express worry that the country (and the world!) may be getting infiltrated by an off world power.

They build sensors in major cities, and triangulate where the off-worlders are appearing, and follow them.

They seem harmless enough. Often skittish, taking lots of pictures, asking odd questions... These aren't security agents or an invading force.

They're just tourists. They're from another world's interdimensional tourism business. One that set up before ours.

But why are they here? What's so odd about our world among the trillions they have access to that makes them come here with cameras fully loaded with film and memory cards?

The security agents pour over surveillance tapes of them wandering around random cities, and finally spot (no pun intended) why they're here.

It's dogs.

The tourists are skittish around seeing people walking their dogs, they're taking pictures of corgis and greyhounds, they're visiting petstores and ignoring the cats and iguanas and tropical fish to go look at the most boring mutts, eyes full of wonder and fear and excitement...

One of the tourists is picked up by the security services, but hits their panic button and vanishes before they can be questioned. They leave behind a Daguerre Inc 2090 DSLR camera full of slightly blurry photos of dogs, and a pamphlet that fell out of their bag in the scuffle

The pamphlet is for this interdimensional vacation, and describes the weirdness of our world: The strange universe where humans somehow befriended wild wolves and let them into their homes and lives.

The pamphlet plays up the scariness of canines, showing Tibetan mastiffs and angry pitbulls biting into meat. Police dogs with titanium teeth replacements. There's very few pictures of chihuahuas and corgis and poodles.

So the next time you're at an animal rescue or a petting zoo, and you see someone looking on in fear and wonder at the amazing sight of a golden retriever puppy, their camera shutter clicking away...

Maybe ask them who the president is. And what year we landed on the moon.

And don't be too surprised if they answer "You mean the Prime Minister? It's still Thiers, right? I haven't been reading the papers much recently. And 1956, unless you're one of those pedantics who say it only counts if it was successful, in which case 1958"

(reposted from a twitter thread from 2022)

[eobe]

Captain Rex 💙

The one and only 🙌 I'm getting more and more into focussing on eyes and emotions in my art and I'm not gonna do something against that 👀 I love to stare in eyes, I love the feeling of it, I want to do more and I want to share. 🎶 Follow me down 🎶 🫠

This wasn't planned like so many of my current artworks. And actions. And thoughts. I’m feeling like out of the world at the moment – maybe because of all the portals the life gives me to decide if I should dare to go through 🚪💫

Haha 😂 From television to conscience ramble in under one parsec! 🪐 But this is legit, because what is it, letting us stay and drown in tales? Our own growth, the desire to process and progress is natural, so our nature attracts what our mind and soul needs to do so. Finding pictures, comparisons and related feelings to carry on in life. That’s the magic in a nutshell, isn’t it 😌 

Marni said „DO IT DO IT“ (in exactement those capital letters, thank you so much for the dopamine 🤩) and so here’s Captain Rex 🤷‍♀️ Somehow out of my wrist into Procreate before I could even gasp and again I have to see, there are moments where I’m only a pen on a surface bifrœsting art into this world 🖊️🌈

Is the Captain embarrassed? He is. Here (<-) you can see why. Not my fault, I was just staring, enjoying the show 😁🙌 But it's more. There is also some weight in here. He's on duty, he doesn't know if he's allowed to let go even for one second. Ah, my heart 💔

So, Rex came out of the beautiful art and inspiration CHAOS (I love chaos, it’s creativity soil) started by @ghostymarni, @lonewolflupe and @jetii and I saw it, felt it and I surrendered blissfully and hands up the incoming ORM ✨ (do you know what orm is? It’s basically a link to the ultimate creativity force from Walter Moers’ Zamonia universe, especially ‚The City of Dreaming Books‘) and I didn’t had any choice I just had to do this. golden. glance. in a slightly blushing face full of contradictory emotions and drowned in my own art the second time yesterday 😱 

Enjoy a closer look into golden embarrassment Oh Captain my Captain 👀:

Before Rex invited himself I was actually already done from another unplanned uninvited clone 🙈 What is the whole brainrot doing to me and I love it

My little drawing Padawan self already owling (flying, fluting, screeching, being artist crazy inspiration orm drunken 100% getting on my husband's and my cats' nerves) 🦉 in the woods because of him (<-) ignoring my yesterday's initial drawing plans with his whole intimidating attitude!

And this was so much more intense, because I accidentally listened to this song and now I set it on continuous loop to savor and drown in the energy surrounding me in these days ✨ For me and my current cinematic mood quite fitting for both artworks.

My personal ALT text mission (1 additional ALT-Text for a previous artwork with each new art posting!): 

Another clone Captain. Absolutely not insecure 😏

Taglist: @eclec-tech @bixlasagna @returnofthepineapple @sunshinesdaydream @covert1ntrovert @general-ida-raven @vrycurious @dystopicjumpsuit @chaicilatte

[ellesthots]

Fateful Beginnings

XII. “exceptionally qualified, equally eager”

parts: previous / next

plot: you receive both celebratory and sobering news which leaves you reeling; back in Gotham, Bruce Wayne solidifies his entrance into society.

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+, bad health news, cancer, chemo, grief, doctor’s office, shock

words: 2.5k

You woke up the next morning remembering the conversation with your friends, replaying in your mind. You kept thinking about how you told them you'd fucked Bruce. You wished you hadn't. It was wrong. But you were never gonna see him again, and they were never going to tell. It would be too embarrassing for them that they weren't the ones to fuck him, and would never let themselves be outdone. They'd let the world continue to believe he was a virgin before admitting you'd managed to sleep with a billionaire. Outshining them wasn't a possibility.

You swung your legs off the bed and rubbed your eyes before walking out into the hallway. It was suspiciously quiet, with the usual hum of the TV absent. You started when you turned into the kitchen to your parents holding a gift. It was a thick envelope with your name in sloping cursive, and your parents had hardly looked happier... besides when the anonymous benefactor, likely Bruce (you cringed hard at his name) has somehow managed to pay off the family's medical debt. "Here honey," your mother hurried toward you and you took the envelope. Walter ran in between your dad's legs and hopped up on the bed. You laughed and started opening it. "Even he seems excited."

Your fingers nearly cut on the thick cardstock. You pulled out a card in the shape of a graduation hat, and out fell a small slip. It twirled down and made Walter pounce, and you had a game of cat and mouse for a minute before you read the stub. Delta Airlines: SEA—GCA. You looked up but they just urged you to read the card. "Congratulations Y/N! Excited to see you walk at graduation. Love, Mom and Dad." What?? I get to walk? But how?

The next fifteen minutes indulged them explaining that they'd bought tickets last night and went to the store on the way home from their friend's barbecue. "After all the money we saved we could finally afford it. And your father picked out a beautiful hotel for us right next to the airport." The rush of positive feelings left as quickly as they came, lasting not a second longer than your parents shutting the door on their way out. A murkiness settled in your stomach. You didn't plan on ever returning to Gotham. Your parents had never been there either. You hoped you'd never have to deal with its hustle and bustle again. But you were their only child, and you were at least happy that they were happy.

Bruce sat in his wool overcoat in a small, stuffy office on a hard, narrow chair. His thighs were threatening to burst it, and the arms were cutting into his abdomen. He forced a smile to the school secretary as he waited for the university president to arrive. His eyes trailed to the cobwebs in the corner, the dusty books by the window, and eventually the stained carpeting. Our tax dollars pay for this? Alfred needs to know about this so he can get in touch with—no. He stopped himself. Those were his duties now, gone were the days of offloading all public contact to his butler while he kept to his sanctuary. Thankfully, GU's president burst through the doors at that very moment.

"Mr. Wayne! My God! Never in a million years did I think to see you in these halls." The woman was beaming, and Bruce stood up to shake her hand. Even her vigor didn't help the smile he plastered on be any less forced. "Pleasure is all mine, Ms...?"

"Janay Vry, former journalism department head." Her gray bob brushed along the tips of her shoulders. A thought sprinted across his mind. Journalism. Y/N. To bring it up or to not? "I heard you met with one of my students, Ms. Y/L/N."

She beat him to it. "Yes, I apologize. I was unreasonably busy that day. I hope she found another suitor." Y/L/N. Y/L/N. Didn’t quite fit you. It repeated in his mind like a mantra, and reminded him of combing through the commencement… She opened her mouth to speak, and his eyes snagged on an owl pin on her lapel. He'd never seen that before, and it stalled his train of thought.

"So, Mr. Wayne." Ms. Vry sat in the secretary's chair as she shuffled out, looking a bit nervous. He forced his face to remain pleasant as his mind began to investigate. Why was he drawn to that? What energy was it bringing? Did it symbolize anything? "What brings you here today?"

He sat up a bit in his chair, feeling the early stages of bruising as the wood tore at his sides. The right arm was snagging on a particularly thick scar. "Well," He never thought he would say these words, but he needed a platform. An entrance. "I know how late minute this is, so I understand if this is no possibility. I was wondering if I could be a commencement speaker for this year's ceremony." The shaky grin he mustered made him want to slam into a wall. This is so forced. Can she tell?

Ms. Vry had a visible, startled reaction to his question. "Mr. Wayne, wow," she shook her head in disbelief. "Of course, of course." Her smile could've reached her ears, and she started listing off the date, time, and gathering space for the speakers to arrive at prior to the event. "And of course we will amp up security. Yes, I'll get started on that this evening."

Bruce left the halls of GCU with a few pamphlets and a worn jaw. Smiling shouldn't hurt that much. He wondered how long he could keep this act up, and if this was all one big mistake he'd have to forever run away from. It felt like it, as his disheveled self jogged down the concrete steps to a fishbowl of citizens shouting and taking photos. Of course they found me. Christ.

He stared forward at the car, pretending no one was there. He needed this event as a more natural entrance into society. Announcing the Wayne's direct involvement in the city once again. He could imagine the headlines now and imagined how proud his parents might be of him. That was all that mattered. Continuing the Wayne legacy. Doing what my parents never could. He was doing the right thing, and he was utilizing the tools at his disposal. There were areas of society Bruce Wayne could reach that Batman could never, and vice versa. Why didn't I consider this sooner? As he sidled into the driver's seat and relaxed into the tinted windows, he remembered why. He loathed being on display.

The next few days you spent spending time with your family and journaling about losing your entire friend group. It hurt you, more than you even wanted to admit to yourself. Sure, they weren't very good friends, but it was scary staring down the barrel at your only social contacts being your parents. You scrolled around on Bumble for a few hours every day until you ended up hitting a week of being home and days of the most boring conversations you'd ever endured. Your dad had ordered another celebratory pizza, but it felt less fun to not have anyone to text about it.

You still didn't have many answers about your mother's cancer. Later that day was her second chemo appointment since you'd come back, and you offered to drive your mother and take her in yourself. Your dad declined, and said the three of you could all go as a family. It was nice he wanted to stay with her, but it also meant this was more serious. He likely wanted to spend as much time with her as possible. You tried not to think about why.

Pulling up to the clinic, you told your dad to head into the room with your mom. "I'm gonna talk to the doctor for a minute." You went to the receptionist and requested Dr. Righan. The receptionist directed you to a room just down the hall. "He'll meet you in consultation."

You waited anxiously to hear how bad it was while simultaneously indulging your last moments of ignorance. Her weight loss is unrelated. Her walker and wheelchair use is unrelated. Just aging stuff. Maybe she has a bad back like grandma. Yeah, that's it. She's just doing another round of chemo for good measure.

You blinked and it was over. As you came back into your body you saw the door swinging shut behind the doctor who had just come in and delivered the news: it was worse than you thought. Your mother was starting chemo to try and buy her some time before seeing if she got accepted into this clinical trial. "Your mother is exceptionally qualified, and equally eager," the graying man in the white coat had said. "Unfortunately, everyone else is too."

The drive home had you in a haze. Your parents were in the front seats still gushing over how they didn't have to pay at the end of the session, but you couldn't pay attention. The clinical trial roulette was a month from today; in the world's most desperate game of Bingo, random names would be drawn. Half would be assigned a control, half would be assigned the medicine. You couldn't bear the thought of her getting a placebo, but you couldn't bear the thought of her not getting in at all. The doctor had tried to taper her excitement, letting her know most people were not going to be picked. It stung, and left you in a haze for the rest of the night.

At about nine in the evening your dad went for a quick stop at the grocery store. He peeked his head in your room where you sat at your desk, furiously journaling, and asked if you wanted anything. Saying no, he left with an announcement he wouldn't be more than 15 minutes. Finally alone in the house with your mother practically since her initial diagnosis, you wandered to the living room where she sat in a large rocking chair, tucked into an enormous throw blanket. She smiled when you sunk into the couch beside her. "Are you excited to go to graduation?"

No. I'm not excited about anything. I want you to not be sick. "Yeah! It's really exciting, it'll be fun to be back." Your smile was fake as plastic. What if this was the last family trip? The last time on an airplane together? You wanted to go to Fiji, with the white sand and warm water for her to sink into. Paradise, not Gotham. She was genuinely excited however. "Oh I can't wait for you to walk across that stage. Your father is going to cry buckets. Buckets!"

That night you sat at your desk and scribbled more in your journal, now on your twentieth page. Why does she have to be sick. Why does it have to be so bad? Why do I have to go back to Gotham? Gotham. Bruce. I hope he doesn't find me. Maybe he will. He seems to get out more now, more likelihood to see him... ugh. Not the time. And the money thing. How do I bring that up? I don't even know if it was him. Maybe it was Alfred. I don't know. Ugh. How am I even gonna walk in my heels? I don't really want to wear sneakers. Maybe I should? Maybe I should just be myself, and stop trying to fit in? Who cares what I wear to my own graduation? Shouldn't I only care about my own opinion? My head is swirling. Graduation is so soon. You decided to stop writing, since it was getting nowhere. Just jotting down the myriad of thoughts clanking around your skull, and it was keeping you up. The next few days were job hunting, and you needed to look adequately rested... even if it was the last thing you were truly feeling.

No. No. And more no. Every business within a thirty mile radius hadn't even accepted a resume. It hadn't been this way before you left for Gotham a few years back. Your parents were all happy little birds back at home, basking in the glory of having their medical debt paid. "You don't have to worry about getting a job right now hun," your dad had said a few days prior. "Let yourself relax." But you couldn't. Having the money burden gone was a massive relief, sure, but it was a material thing, and you were grappling with potentially having to lose someone. A parent. A mother. There was hardly space for rejoicing.

The morning of graduation you'd forgotten all about it, being woken at four in the morning to head to the airport. The time difference, shit. Your mother's friend from church was dropping you all off, babbling on and on about the local gossip. "And oh my stars, you just wouldn't believe the old Scott girl. Baby number two. With TWO fathers!" You attempted to drown her out via some self-soothing humming, which only drew the attention to you. "And you missy! Why, you're not twenty-six without a ring on your finger! Meet anyone in..." she paused and visibly shuddered, spitting out the word Gotham to finish her pestering. You suppressed an eyeroll. Gotham would eat her alive.

You successfully dodged succeeding questions and found yourself at arrivals. Your parents had a fast-pass through TSA, making boarding surprisingly pleasant. You sat between your mom and dad, trying not to think about landing in a city you thought you'd left far behind.

"Good afternoon passengers, this is your pilot speaking. We are pulling into the terminal in approximately three minutes, so please prepare for landing. Weather is partly-cloudy, with a high of sixty degrees. It is 3pm local time. Thank you for flying with Delta Airlines." Your dad awoke with a strong snore, your mom rustling in her light sleep. "Oh my, already?" She yawned, rolling up her knit blanket into her carry on. "Honey, do they have the wheelchair ready?"

Wheelchair? You still weren't used to it. Wheelchairs aren't bad, you reminded. They're accessible. They help. It doesn't mean she's gonna drop dead tomorrow. Soon enough your dad was helping her into a cab while you wrestled with her chair and the luggage in the backseat of the accessible Uber. The smell stung your nostrils, the familiar taste of copper. The streets were mostly dry, as dry as they could ever get in the city. As you climbed into the passenger seat you briefly thought of the taut leather binding trimming Bruce's car's interior. Stop it. He doesn't exist.

[n3ongold3n]

Walter adds his holiday greetings

However you spend your day today (and tomorrow), kawi wishes you a good one 🐾♥️

[sissylittlefeather]

Introducing...

A Very Quiet Life

A/N: this is an AU in which Elvis is your next door neighbor in the suburbs in the mid-late '60s. I have three parts completed and more in the works, so hang on for some chapters!

I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: The reader is a widow. That's about it. It's pretty fluffy, but don't worry. The smut is coming 😈

Song inspo:

Gif inspo (this is how I picture him in this one)

The little house is perfect for your family of 3. You stand and look at it from where you've just gotten out of your car. The white siding and blue shutters are exactly what you wanted. You'll have to get a lawnmower, though, because the yard is already a little wild.

"Mama, can we get out and see?" Your 7-year-old daughter, Jane, calls from her place on the backseat. Your 5-year-old son, Michael, is knocking on the window. The sound of the kids pulls you out of your daydream about how many wonderful memories you'll make there together. You turn around and let them both out of the car. They run up to the front door and you decide to unload the car later. The movers have already gotten all the furniture and big boxes into the house. When you open the front door, you have a soft pang in your heart as you think of how your husband had carried you across the threshold at your old apartment. Now that he's gone, you'll have to carry yourself. You walk in and go to the kitchen to start unpacking. You're excited to make this into a home. This little house is your pride and joy. Between your husband's army death benefits and your part time job typing in an office, you were finally able to save up for the house. Now it's yours and you can't wait to live here and have a real future. Since your husband died, you feel like you've been in a holding pattern. However, it's been almost 4 years, and you're ready to live again.

As you unpack glasses into the cabinet, something catches your eye out the window over the sink. The window looks into your neighbor's front yard. It's beautifully manicured and you can see why. There's a man out there cutting the grass. A very attractive man, you think to yourself. His dark hair is wet with sweat and his white t-shirt sticks to his broad chest, revealing a manly and strong physique. When he pushes the mower, his muscles flex and the veins in his forearm are visible. His skin is tanned from working outside, probably on the lawn. You don't even notice you're biting your lower lip until he looks up in the direction of your window. You gasp and drop the glass you were holding in the sink.

Can he see you?

Thankfully, the glass doesn't break and you're able to pick it up quickly and go back to what you were doing. When you take a chance and look back out the window, you see that he's shaking his head and smiling, looking down at the mower. His smile almost takes your breath away. You wonder if he's smiling because he saw you or because of something else. Deciding it must be something else, you turn and go back to unpacking boxes in the kitchen. Your neighbor is a lucky woman.

******

You smooth Michael's hair and brush some crumbs off of his front. Then, you straighten Jane's hair ribbon.

"Now, remember to smile. We want our neighbors to like us." You coo to the children just before you knock on the front door of your neighbor's house. You've been in your new home for three days, so it seems like the right time to get to know the people around you. On your right is Mrs. Pottsboro, an older lady with several cats. She was very kind and appreciative of the cookies you brought. She also volunteered to watch the children if you need her to, which is an offer you won't forget. Directly across the street are the Walters, a family of five with kids around the same ages as yours. You enjoyed a nice conversation with them while the kids munched on cookies and ran around the yard. Now, you are at the house to your left. As you knock, you briefly remember the man you saw mowing the lawn. You've seen him a couple of times since then, getting the paper and watering the grass. You really need to meet his wife and put a stop to the things you've been thinking about him.

The door opens and it feels like a ton of bricks has landed in your stomach. It's him. After a few seconds of standing there smiling like an idiot, him trying to suppress a smirk, you clear your throat and speak.

"Hi! I'm y/f/n y/l/n and this is Jane and Michael." You touch the kids on their heads as you say their names. "We just moved in next door, so we wanted to stop by and say hello and give you these." You hold out a plate of chocolate chip cookies.

"Thank you. Why don't you all come on in?" His voice is warm and the southern accent makes it sound honey-smooth. You start to sweat a little, standing on the porch. He takes the plate of cookies and gestures for you all to come in. When you pass him, you catch a wave of his scent and it's warm and masculine, like his body seems to be. A part of you longs to smell it closer, but then reality slams into you like a freight train when his wife rounds the corner.

"Oh, hello!" She's petite and blonde, with her hair twisted into a tight bun.

"Beth, our new neighbors are here. They brought us cookies." He smiles warmly at you and holds the cookies up for her to see.

"That's so sweet! Unfortunately, we don't eat sugar." She grabs the plate and tries to hand it back to you. He intercepts it.

"She doesn't eat sugar. I do." She makes a tight-lipped smile, her eyes overly bright.

"Right. Well, thank you." She walks out of the room, leaving you and your kids with him. He bends down to be face-level with your kids.

"You guys want to help me eat these?" They both smile and nod their heads, taking a cookie from the plate that he holds out to them. He seems to be enlivened by their presence, asking them questions about the new house and their new school. They respond to him easily, comfortable with him instantly.

"Does your daddy like the new house?" He asks innocently, looking up at you.

"Oh--" you try to cut in, but Jane beats you to it.

"--our daddy is gone. He died a while back. It's just us now." His face changes to a look of deep sympathy.

"I'm so sorry to hear that, Jane." He looks up at you but keeps talking like he's talking to her. "If you or your mama ever need a man to do anything around the house, you just let me know. I'm right next door." Michael jumps in.

"Mister, I'm the man of the house now. I can take care of mama and Jane."

"Of course!" He smiles. "I bet you do a great job, too. If you ever need a bigger man, you come get me, okay?" He does a little fake punch on Michael's chin. Michael nods in agreement.

"Yes sir, Mr...?"

"Presley. Elvis Presley. Pleased to meet you." He shakes Michael's hand and kisses Jane's lightly. You have to shake yourself a bit to remember that you should leave.

"Alright, kiddos, we've bothered Mr. Presley long enough. Let's go back home." You try to usher the kids toward the door. As you walk out, he turns to you.

"It's really no problem at all, ma'am. I like kids. And I'm serious, if you need anything, let me know." He winks and you almost melt into a puddle on his front porch.

"Thank you, Mr. Presley."

"Elvis, please."

"Thank you, Elvis." It feels strange to call him by his first name, but since he insists, you oblige. He closes the door behind you and you take the hands of both kids and walk back to your own house.

******

You're doing dishes a few days later, looking out at your crazy yard compared to your neighbors' perfect one. For a second, you consider asking Mr. Presley to come mow it for you. But you don't want to inconvenience him. He was so kind to you and the children when you were there. His wife wasn't much to smile at, being almost cold in her refusal to talk to them. To be honest, you've thought of inviting him over several times. You've even considered breaking something just to have him come fix it, but you also know how bizarre and wrong that would be. You finish the dishes, get the kids ready for school and head to your job at the office.

******

After work, you drive up to the house, excited for the hour of free time you have before you have to pick up the kids. To your surprise, most of the yard is mowed. You're trying to figure out how that happened when you spot him. It's Elvis. He's out there mowing your yard without even being asked. As you walk up to the door, he turns and waves to you. You mouth "thank you" and walk inside the front door. You need to do something to show him that you're thankful for what he's doing. In the kitchen, you whip up some sweet tea and pour two glasses. By the time you get them on a tray and to the front porch, he's finished mowing the lawn. He's sweating again, T-shirt tight on his shoulders.

"Would you like some tea?" You ask shyly.

"I would, ma'am, thank you." He walks up on the porch and takes the glass from the tray.

"You don't have to call me ma'am. You can call me y/n."

"Oh, well, thank you y/n." He smiles and you feel yourself tense up. He's standing close enough to you that you catch the earthy smell of his sweat mixed with deodorant or aftershave or something manly. It's intoxicating. He's intoxicating. He takes a deep swig of his tea and then looks at you.

"Do you mind if I use your bathroom?" It seems like a strange request, since his house is so close, but you don't seem to be capable of telling him no. You lead him into the house to the small guest bath. When he comes out, he walks over to where you're standing in the kitchen, trying not to be too obvious about waiting for him.

"You didn't have to do that." You gesture to the yard.

"I know. But I wanted to. I was serious about you letting me know if you need any help." He smiles warmly.

"Kids still at school?" He looks around the house, seeming almost disappointed that they aren't there.

"Yes. I'll pick them up soon. I just come home a bit early to have an hour of quiet before I go get them." He nods and you suddenly realize that you're alone with him in your house. Your mind goes wild with daydreams of him laying you down on the couch and having his way with you.

"Well, thank you for the tea. I should be getting back." You nod and head for the door.

Before you can get there though, you feel a hand on your wrist. You look up into his face for half a second before he presses his lips against yours. You should pull away. You should stop him. But you don't. Instead you go limp and let him wrap his arms around your waist. The kiss is a sweet one, with no tongue or anything. He just holds you there with his mouth pushed into yours. When he finally pulls back, you feel like a rag doll in his arms. You desperately want him to keep kissing you, but he doesn't. Instead, he unravels his arms from around you and heads for the door. He mumbles a quick apology and disappears before you can say anything else.

You haven't felt this alive in years.

******

Chapter 2 coming soon!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Taglist: @itlover8000 @deniseinmn @elvisalltheway101

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[graciebrams]

𓇢𓆸 get to know me

hi I'm ema you can call me em or ems <3 my pronouns are she/her, desi 𐙚˙⋆.˚ 🎐🌟💌

✧ i ١٥٧٤ : rose gold, silver jewellery, coffee, books, ribbons, hoop earrings, lipgloss, handwritten letters, choclate, colours pink, brown and sage green, bracelets, cats, ballet flats, sundresses, rings, sunsets, dried out flower petals, collecting old movie tickets, etc ᱖　⠀˙⠀　｡

ꪆৎ fav artists : gracie abrams, taylor swift, sabrina carpenter, lexi jayde, eileen alister, alessi rose, alix page, maise peters, birdy, the nbhd, chase atlantics, the weeknd, johnny orlando, harry styles, lizzy mcalpine, beabadoobee, girl in red, olivia rodrigo, evanescance, ROLEMODLE, phoebe bridgers, 1D, billie eilish, finneas, lexi caroll, clairo, conan gray, cate, CAS, gracen reign, madison beer, mazzy stars, MARINA, lyn lapid ᱖　⠀˙⠀　｡

✧ fav shows: gilmore girls, anne with an e, lockwood and co., two broke girls, derry girls, b99, my mad fat diary, opposite sex, YOU, insatiable, the office, the good doctor, dash and lily, the irregulars, my life with the walter boys, the summer i turned pretty, friends, breaking bad, girl meets world, my lady jane, maxton hall, ted lasso, supernatural, gossip girl, the oc, bridgerton, OBX. ᱖　⠀˙⠀　｡

ꪆৎ fav youtubers: carys rachel, ceri jones, heather wotherspoon, ur internet mom ash, luna montana, audrey mika, basicgorl, just sharon, naomi victoria, anna lenks, niki and gabi, layze, sarah betts, emma chamberlain, ahaspoofy, tia gabriella, caitlyn marie, nailea, sadie aldis, grace's room, sturniolo triplets, tara yummy, benoftheweek, larray, madeline argy, sab quesada, cam and fam, kalogera sisters, quen blackwell, alana lintao, sam and colby, melieya, kailpeery, nick wilkins. ᱖　⠀˙⠀　｡

✧ other favs: sophia birlem, sadie sink, cailey spainey, lola tung, chris briney, daisy edgar jones, amybeth mcnulty, lily collins, rowan blanchard, nicola coughlan, emma stone, sarah carpenter, cory foeglmanis, diana silvers, nicholas hoult, caitlyn dever, lauren graham, sarosie ronan, anne hathway, tom holland, zendaya, andrew garfield, laura marano, florence pugh, jenna ortega, cooper koch, harrison osterfield, harry holland, sam holland, paddy holland, tuwaine barett. ᱖　⠀˙⠀　｡

ꪆৎ fav movies: little women (1994 and 2019), the princess diaries (1 and 2), anne of green gables, carrie 1976, roman holiday, sabrina (1954), qala, freaky friday, legally blonde, 13 going on 30, to all the boys, kissing booth, adventures in babysitting, 16 wishes, 16 candles, how to build a better boy, priscilla 2023, the fault in our stars, dirty dancing, love rosie, stuck in love, tolkien, the devil all the time, all spiderman and marvel movies, uncharted,

prev urls : sparksssflytv -> graciebrams

• divider by @issysh3ll

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Walter Einenkel at Daily Kos:

Anti-immigrant lies and rhetoric spewed by Donald Trump and his party have caused real and terrifying results. On Thursday, several city, county, and school buildings in Springfield, Ohio, were targeted by a bomb threat. On Friday, a Springfield middle school was closed and two elementary schools were evacuated. ABC News originally reported that there was no direct connection made between the threats and the GOP's repeated racist lies about Haitian immigrants abducting and eating pets. Additionally, ABC reported it was not “immediately clear if Friday's evacuations were from a new threat or linked to bomb threats sent via email Thursday morning.” But in an interview with The Washington Post, Springfield Mayor Rob Rue said that Thursday’s bomb threat “used hateful language towards immigrants and Haitians in our community.”

During Tuesday night’s presidential debate, Trump erroneously claimed, “In Springfield, they're eating the dogs. The people that came in. They're eating the cats. They're eating—they're eating the pets of the people that live there.” This lie has also been pushed by his running mate Sen. JD Vance a number of times. And Trump continued to perpetuate the lie, adding geese this time, in a campaign rally Thursday in Arizona.

The Haitian Times reported that some of Springfield’s Haitian community has felt so threatened during this barrage of right-wing hate-propaganda that they chose to keep their children home from school following the debate. “We’re all victims this morning,” one woman, who asked to remain anonymous for fear of reprisals, told the outlet. “They’re attacking us in every way.”  The same kind of racist rhetoric has also besieged Venezuelan immigrants in Colorado. Trump has repeatedly pushed bullshit crime numbers (which he did once again during the debate), targeting Venezuelan communities in the Centennial State as filled with “gangs,” and saying they were “taking over” Colorado cities. 

[...] This is sadly par for the course during a time of fascistic and hateful rhetoric. We saw it with Asian hate crimes rising during COVID-19 pandemic, when Trump and others would frequently use derogatory terms for the coronavirus such as “Kung Flu,” and the “Chinese Virus.” We've seen it in the rise of antisemitism connected to the rise of MAGA extremist rhetoric and conspiracy theory as well as the Palestinian/Israeli conflict. The consequences of the Republican Party’s need to target, isolate, and divide various groups of people, are that innocent, hardworking people suffer. At the same time, without any meaningful policies, the fear and economic uncertainty that the GOP repeats remains the same.  Trump said Tuesday during the debate that the Haitian immigrants in Springfield were “destroying” the residents’ “entire way of life.” That divisiveness, despite the fact that these Haitian Americans are part of that community, is the Trump way. And in a country made up almost entirely of immigrants, there’s always someone to blame.

Aurora, CO and Springfield, OH are two communities in the news recently as a result of right-wing hate mobs targeting the cities to push their anti-immigrant BS.

[oculusxcaro]

Khare never buys sugar since she has no need of it at home. When Rorschach started dropping by, she brought back a box of sugar cubes from the diner and left them in the kitchen for him to help himself to whenever he visited. Since then a box of Froot Loops and various other foodstuffs in packets and boxes has appeared for him to try. She's desperate for you to eat more than just beans and sugar cubes, Rorschach. You're like a malnourished raccoon that's stubbornly fixated on eating just one type of food for fuck's sake.

One night when Khare was out at work, you just KNOW Rorschach was absolutely in the apartment when the landlord came snooping around. Instead of finding stuff to steal, the landlord got the absolute SHIT beaten out of him. To this day, the landlord doesn't remember what happened - only that he woke up from a medically-induced coma after 'taking a nasty tumble' down his own poorly-constructed stairs. What's that? Foul play? No, Rorschach totally wasn't waiting for him to show up. Accidents happen. 😇

When Khare gets a little more comfortable about his antihero life, you can bet she's helping Rorschach out however best she can. Feeding back information she's overheard from the GCPD? Writing down interesting information she's picked up from suspicious customers? Walter may stand out but hardly anybody pays attention to waitresses meaning Rorschach has more than one pair of ears around the city. Very handy finding who's in who's pockets and deducing facts about crimes he's investigating.

Sometimes Rorschach likes to send Khare cryptic messages (or jokes) to make sure she's alert and paying attention. No, he's not being a bully but it is a little funny seeing her reactions. It's also a good way for him to test her cognitive functions to, you know, make sure they're not deteriorating.

👫?

Send a 👫 and I’ll write four headcanons I have about our muse’s relationship

Contrary to Walter, it's Rorschach that took Khare some getting used to? She met him before without the mask but his brusque manner of speech soon made her more at ease around him just like she does around Walter. She also finds his mask fascinating, how the patterns shift and morph in tones of perfect black and white. She soon picks up on Rorschach's mood, not by asking him what's wrong but by observing his mask, how rapidly it changes and which patterns make themselves present.

Absolutely does little things for each other! Whenever Walter trudges into the diner with nasty cuts or broken fingers, Khare will offer antiseptic and bandages if only to keep infection at bay. In return, Walter checks out the routes she uses going to and from home to ensure nobody's waiting to pounce on unsuspecting passerbys. He's gotten rid of at least one serial attacker whose body was later found floating in the sewers by Killer Croc. Khare doesn't know about this and Walter is perfectly content to keep it that way.

Knows each others secrets yet keeps their lips sealed. Walter found out about Khare's condition at precisely the same time Khare found out he was Rorschach, the hero jumping in to prevent her getting bundled into a car by a group of thugs. Rorschach fought them off but sustained a head injury during the incident while Khare received minimal injuries during the struggle. She hid his hat, mask and coat from the GCPD, claiming it was Walter who had stopped her from getting kidnapped by the group. He noticed the eyes glinting in the darkness, his suspicions confirmed upon noticing her injuries were long gone when he came to retrieve his belongings later that day.

Do these two talk shit about the government? You better believe they do. I bet these two could talk about conspiracies all day long, a sentiment which is not helped when Khare tells Walter what she knows about Prometheus and her experiences at their hands. Rorschach somehow becomes even more violent towards kidnappers. Khare might even help him out, holding them down with a smile while he brutally extracts important information.

[abcd-adventures]

One of my clients has been in a pretty deep depression. He's not been leaving his apartment. I check in on him everyday and make sure he's at least had a meal and bring him one if he hasn't, and every night on my walk, I send him a picture to bring the outside to him and let him know that I care and am thinking of him. These are the ones from the past couple days. (I always look for lizards on my walk.) The most recent one is my dog, Walter, and the ONLY cat in the entire neighborhood that runs up to greet him instead of wanting to hiss at him or claw his face off. Lol

It's been a couple weeks, and sometimes I've wondered if I'm doing the right thing because whenever I call or knock to check in, this client answers like he wants to murder me and sometimes can't wait to shut the door in my face. Tonight, I mentioned that I know that I get on his nerves, but that it's just so important to me that he knows that I care and will continue to. He texted back, "You have never gotten on my nerves." (He's not a man of many words. Lol) And, it probably seems crazy, but that text means SO MUCH TO ME and totally almost made me cry.

Today, I also bribed a coworker with lunch to help me build a bedframe and move a mattress in for a client...which is obviously not in our job description, but it was PERFECT, and I think people sometimes underestimate the power of those kinds of things for mental health.

[n3ongold3n]

Ah brothers.

[grandhotelabyss]

I checked out the red scare pod out of curiosity from reading your blog, but man I can’t help but find the hosts really… stupid

They have a limited range of reference, and the closer they get to practical political matters the less they know about anything, but their charismatic personalities are enough for a podcast. We don't yet have a canonical theory of the form, but I'd suggest you're not supposed to listen closely; you're supposed to do something else while it plays in the background. It's not discourse, it's an affective environment. I was going to say that it's more like art than like politics, but politics is of course also and primarily a matter of affective environments, no matter how many times we quote Walter Benjamin at his most commie-addled saying that this is the definition of fascism. The only time they really lose me affectively is when the meanness and cruelty, which usually has a redeeming air of the sportive, becomes too much, slips into outright evil, a genuinely alienating coldness of which one feels one may be the next target: the cat has stopped playing with the mouse and has begun to tear its throat out. (In defiance of the way the hosts are caricatured, Dasha tends to be the culprit here.) I'm not sure the art of the podcast has advanced far enough to accommodate this turn, though we accept it in other art forms, as in cinema. Consider, for instance, the chilling and parodic aesthetic remove, derived from Polanski and Kubrick, at which The Scary of Sixty-First holds its subject matter. (Dasha strikes again.) The cinema screen, even if it's a phone or a laptop screen, is at arm's length or further away than that, however; what happens on that screen is happening over there. Whereas the podcast is very literally in the porches of our ears, has (if I may) penetrated us: too close for comfort when the claws come out.

[hearts4hughes]

congrats on 500! could you please do an insta edit with quinn about becoming dog parents? ty!!

dog parents | quinn hughes

quinn hughes x fem! reader

nora’s 500 celly !!

-

y/n.official

liked by _quinnhughes, jackhughes, and others

y/n.official meet walter!

view all comments

_quinnhughes we’re dog parents 😟

y/n.official i’m his favorite parent

_quinnhughes that was mean. he loves me just as much

y/nofficial he might like you, but you’ll never be me🫶

_quinnhughes rude.

lhughes_06 he kinda looks like the cuter version of quinn

y/n.official i think quinn resembles a wet cat, but to each their own!

lhughes_06 ouch

_quinnhughes y/n.official i thought you loved me😔

y/n.official _quinnhughes ofc i do stinky😚

jackhughes i can babysit him whenever

y/n.official i do not trust you with my baby

jackhughes a lot of people consider me a fantastic dogsitter, so your loss🤷‍♂️

trevorzegras y/n.official i can watch him instead 😁

y/n.official trevorzegras id rather let an infant watch walter over you…

trevorzegras y/n.official ☹️

user129 so adorable!

fan15 even their dog is perfect😭😭

user43 y/n and quinn arguing like a married couple is killing me

_quinnhughes

liked by y/n.official, canucks, and others

_quinnhughes my son👨‍👦

view all comments

y/n.official our son*

_quinn hughes no, he’s just mine.

y/n.official 😨

canucks newest member! brb ordering him a canucks jersey

liked by _quinnhughes

jackhughes he’s going to grow up an amazing devils fan

_quinnhughes over my dead body.

y/n.official _quinnhughes idk he does look good in red…

_eliaspettersson our top d-man

_quinnhughes just like his father😎

lhughes_06 someone’s got a big ego…

fan792 perfect dog for the perfect player<3

user07 if you need another dog i can bark!!!!

-

[marinette2005]

Alya: I think my guardian angel drinks.

—————————————————————

Alya, shooing Marinette away: Can you go be depressed over there? You’re bumming out my whole area.

—————————————————————

Lila: You seem familiar... have I threatened you before?

—————————————————————

Alix: If karma doesn't hit you, I fucking will.

—————————————————————

Luka: Anything else?

Julika: Yeah. Stay away from me!

Luka: Alright. See you in the room we share.

—————————————————————

Marinette: Hey, what’s the name of the guy who lives down the hall?

Adrien: His cats' names are Walter and Rose.

Marinette: That's not what I asked.

Adrien: That is all the information I have.

—————————————————————

Marinette: Why is there blood everywhere?

Kagami: I may have aggressively poked someone with a knife.

Marinette: You stabbed someone?!

Kagami: No, no. I aggressively poked someone with a knife.

—————————————————————

Kagami: The ‘how the fucks’ and 'why are you so dumbs’ don’t matter. All that matters is that I have a new sword.

—————————————————————

Marinette: *tapping fingers on table*

Adrien : *taps fingers back furiously*

Nino: …What’s going on?

Alya: Morse code. They’re talking.

Marinette: -.-- ..- .-. / - …. . / -.-. ..- - . … -

Adrien : *slams hands on table* YOU TAKE THAT BACK!

—————————————————————

Nino: Don't quote me on this, but I believe murder is illegal!

—————————————————————

Marinette: N... No!

Adrien: A fair rebuttal. However, consider this counterpoint: Y... Yes???

—————————————————————

Adrien : Your smile? It makes my day.

Marinette: Your happiness? I live for that.

Alya: A room? Get one.

Nino: Hotel? Trivago.

—————————————————————

Nino/adrien : If history repeats itself, I’m so getting a dinosaur!

—————————————————————

Nino: Are you the big spoon or the little spoon?

Felix: I'm a knife.

Kagami, from across the room: They're the little spoon.

—————————————————————

Adrien : Helpful grammar tip: “farther” is for physical distance, “further” is for methaphorical distance, and “father” is for emotional distance!

(Literally got this in the generator 1st try)

—————————————————————

Marinette: Damn, the power went out.

Adrien : Don’t worry, I got this.

Adrien : *shakes rapidly and starts to light up*

Marinette: What-?

Adrien: I swallowed a glow stick!

Marinette, on the verge of tears: WHY WOULD YOU-

—————————————————————

Nino: Which is correct, seven and five IS thirteen, or seven and five ARE thirteen?

Adrien : Neither.

Adrien : Because it's twelve.

—————————————————————

Alya: What do we think of Alix?

*pause*

Marinette: *sighs* Nice pal.

nino: I think they're gay.

—————————————————————

Marinette, talking about Adrien: Is this a friend of yours, Felix?

Felix: Kind of? Not really. They're in my life and there's nothing I can do about it.

—————————————————————

nino: Have I ever told you that I love you with my whole heart?

Alya: For the love of all that is holy, I am not taking you to McDonalds. It’s 2am!

nino: Mean.

—————————————————————

Adrien : A decision had to be made.

Marinette: And you fucked it up!

—————————————————————

Alix: So, what are we doing?

nino: Wasting our lives.

Alix: I meant for lunch...

—————————————————————

*Everyone is playing a board game together*

Adrien: I will put 'A' down to make 'A'.

Marinette: I will add onto your 'A' to make 'AT'.

Alya: I will add onto your 'AT' to make 'RAT'.

Kagami: I will add onto your 'RAT' to make 'BIOSTRATAGRAPHIC'.

Alya: *flips the board*

—————————————————————

Marinette : Adrien kissed me!

Alya: Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!

Marinette: It was unbelievable!

Rose: Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!

Alya: Okay, we wanna hear everything. Alix, get the wine and unplug the phone. Marinette , does this end well or do we need tissues?

Marinette: Oh, it ended very well.

Rose: Do not start without me! Do not start without me!

Alya: Okay, alright, let’s hear about the kiss. Was it a soft brush against your lips or was it like a, you know, “I gotta have you now” kind of thing?

Marinette: Well, at first it was really intense, you know? And then, oh God, and then we just sort of sunk into it.

Mylene: Ohh... So, okay, were they holding you? Or were their hands on your back?

Marinette: First they started out on my waist and then they slid up and then they were in my hair.

The girls: Ohhh.

*meanwhile*

Adrien eating pizza in their house: And, uh, and then I kissed her.

Nino: Tongue?

Adrien: Yeah.

nino: Cool.

—————————————————————

Adrien: What goes up but never comes down?

nino: The amount of stress you're bringing this friend group.

—————————————————————

Nino, at an awards show: Well, first of all, I’d like to thank alya, the love of my life, for telling me Marinette was going to win so don’t bother to prepare a speech.

—————————————————————

Adrien: Cool, any other secrets?

Felix: I still sleep with the blanket I had as a baby.

Adrien : Awww-

Felix , stern: I use it as a gag when taking people’s pets hostage.

Adrien :

Adrien : There’s no punch line ‘cause it’s not a joke isn’t it?

—————————————————————

*talking about Alya*

Marinette: They are beauty.

Nino: They are grace.

Adrien, runnning into the room: THEY CAN DESTROY THE HUMAN RACE!

—————————————————————

Adrien: I think I just figured something out. I got to go.

Marinette : Aren't you forgetting something?

Adrien : Uuh...*hesitantly kisses Alya's forehead before running out.*

Marinette : No, pay your bill! Damn, who raised you?

—————————————————————

Marinette : We’ll get back into there or die trying.

Adrien: No one’s dying.

Marinette: Not with that attitude.

—————————————————————

Alix: Can you keep a secret?

nino: Well, I'm good until I meet the next person.

—————————————————————

Adrien: Can I bother you for a second?

Felix: You're always bothering me, but go ahead.

[hashiruchan]

Walter & Sebastian (Sir Kitty)

Sir Kitty or Sebastian, is a small black kitten with a white spot in his eye :3 he is a very elegant cat since he even has a monocle like Walter! hehe he arrived being rescued by Hashi (my oc) and then adopted by Walter when he arrived at the organization (?) xD

No context, I just wanted to draw Walter in one of our many "character.ai" situations, I hope you like it :3