#things that send me include the following:

[plutoslastwords]

lost and found!

lando norris x daughter!reader

summary: baby norris goes missing in a crowded paddock, her father? not happy.

warnings: none!

w/c: 1.8k

a/n: first post here.. eek! i hope you guys like my little character of baby norris, i'm hoping to write more for her, so if you have any requests, please send them in!!

~~~

A Formula 1 paddock was a busy place. Mechanics were working hard to get the cars in tip-top shape for the day, reporters were rushing around to the latest ‘big story’ with dozens of cameras following and fans were scrambling around to get a glimpse of their idols. All in all, the paddock was chaotic for even the most oriented of us.

The paddock was not the place for a three year old. 

However, in the Melbourne paddock, tiny baby Norris was giggling like mad, toddling around the zoo of the paddock, elated to be back at daddy’s work after a long, boring winter break.

Though he hates to admit it, Lando had not planned your appearance in his life. You were the result of a drunken one night stand, and nine months later you appeared to him after your mother signed away any parental rights. Despite that, you were the light of his life, he couldn’t imagine a world without his gorgeous baby daughter who managed to bring so much joy into any situation, you were his everything.

Unfortunately, at present he was preoccupied with some media duties before the upcoming free practice session, so the responsibility of you had been placed on some Mclaren assistant, Henry, who had looked away for a second too long and the little girl had been lost in the crowd. The assistant was shitting himself, how had he managed to screw up this bad, it was his first day on the job and he had already lost the boss’ kid!! He was so gonna be fired.

Therefore, he felt it wise to not mention to Lando that his three year old was currently waddling around the crazy busy paddock, filled with heavy machinery and people 5 times her size. Instead, Henry grabbed some other intern and began frantically searching. 

It was not an easy task, looking for a pocket sized three year old in a rampacked motorsports paddock. Henry and intern no.2 checked the obvious places first: Lando’s drivers room? No. Oscar’s side of the garage? No. The Williams garage? (You were very fond of Carlos) No. 

You were nowhere, somehow Lando Norris’ three year old daughter had been gifted the power of invisibility and disappeared off of the face of the Earth. Henry was stressing. To make matters worse, he then got a text he had been dreading.

Lando Norris

hey man, just finished the interview, thank you for watching the baby, you think you could drop her back to me?

Henry cursed aloud, kissing goodbye to his job as he knew that he’d have to show up to Lando empty handed. Him and the other intern he’d coerced into coming trudged slowly back to the Mclaren garage, preparing to face the wrath of a very angry dad. 

As soon as Lando saw Henry enter, his face lit up, finally getting to see his precious girl after a few grueling hours of media commitments. However, his smile dropped immediately when he saw Henry’s guilty look, and the lack of a toddler in his tow. He marched forward.

“Where the fuck is she?” He demanded, no kindness in his voice.

“I- uhm- she- I’m sorry! She’s so small, and so quick! And one minute she was right next to me and the next she was gone!” Henry cried, accepting that this was the last time he’d be working in an F1 paddock.

“You lost my daughter?!?” Lando seethed, completely outraged, his darling girl was missing! “You had one job and you lost my daughter?? How immensely careless can one person be!” He shouted, the only thing holding him back from suckerpunching Henry being the fact that he was the last person to see you, and therefore would be most helpful in finding you.

The commotion, however, alerted the attention of some other people including Zak Brown, Mclaren’s CEO, who was making his rounds of the garage, greeting some high profile guests. He walked over, patting Lando on the shoulder in a very Zak-Brown-manner.

“Ah, Lando! Been looking for you! What’s going on here?”

“The dickhead lost my kid!” Lando exclaimed, more than furiously, whilst Harry just stood there silently, having gone deathly pale. Zak’s normally upbeat mood dropped, seeing the distress his driver was in, he couldn’t be having this! Free practice was only a couple hours away!

“Oh goodness, that’s not… optimal… Have you searched for her at all, boy?” he questioned Henry, who nodded and let out a noise that could’ve been interpreted as a whimper of fear.

“W-we went to look for her, we searched everywhere! B-but she wasn’t there…” he stammered, this was just great now both of his bosses were here to fire him. Not even his bosses! They were like his boss’ boss’ boss’ bosses!

“Of course you couldn’t find her! She’s like 2 feet tall, no one would be able to find her in a crowd like that!” Lando scoffed, he didn’t want to let his worry show in front of the whole garage, so instead his emotions were being projected as anger towards a very scared looking Henry. 

“Well, why don’t we all calm down..” Zak intervened, he did not need one of his drivers having a meltdown at T-Minus 2 hours before the first free practice session of the season. “I’m sure she’ll turn up, the kid can barely go 30 minutes without her daddy, she’ll be running back soon enough.”

“Oh god, she’s probably so scared…” moaned Lando, Zak’s words doing nothing to soothe him, only heightening the growing sense of dread in the pit of his stomach.

Noticing Lando’s growing anguish, Zak knew he had to act, quickly sending orders to whoever was in shouting distance to go and search the paddock from the bottom up, and not to return until they had a little curly haired girl in their grasp. 

As well as this, he told Henry to go somewhere else and help the search party, he did not think it smart to have Henry and Lando in close proximity, worried about the British driver’s anger getting the best of him. He did not need a fight breaking out only 2 hours before FP1

The next 45 minutes were possibly the worst of Lando’s life, Sochi 2021 was nothing compared to this. His precious, angel, darling girl was missing and there was nothing he could do about as Zak had forbidden him from leaving the garage, claiming he’d draw too much attention if he went out to join the search. What, like 50 Mclaren staff all searching the paddock wasn’t going to draw enough attention itself?

He sat in his driver's room with his face in his hands, distraught at the idea that his baby girl might be hurt, or worse… He couldn’t let himself think about it, his trainer, Jon, was in the room as well trying to soothe his nerves, but nothing was working, all he wanted was his little girl back in his arms.

Suddenly, the door to his driver’s room swung open, revealing Henry, looking extremely tired out, holding a tiny girl who was looking way too proud of herself.

“Daddy!!” You screeched, grinning widely, thrashing around in Henry’s arms to get to him.

“Oh my baby..” About 50 tonnes of weight lifted from Lando’s shoulders as he rushed over to take you from Henry. “My baby, my baby, my baby..” He chanted, rocking you in his arms, holding you close to his chest, never wanting to let go. “You gave daddy such a fright, angel!” He reprimanded, but there was no malice to his tone whatsoever, he was just glad his baby was back. “Where did you run off to, hm?”

“Lollipop, daddy!” You squealed, and then it clicked for Lando, of course that’s where she went. When the two of you arrived in the paddock this morning there was a man selling large lollipops, almost the size of you, near the entrance. You had immediately been struck by this, begging your daddy to pretty please! buy one for you, but Lando had media duties he had to get to, but promised to get one later (he could never say no to you), but of course that wasn’t acceptable to your little head, so you’d had to run away to go get one. 

Surprisingly, you had managed to get her hands on one, though Lando wasn’t sure how, it wasn’t like you had your own money. It was probably because you were just too cute to resist, with your beaming smile, little curly hair and green eyes just like him, you could woo just about anybody. Even the ever serious Oscar Piastri manages to crack some grins whenever you’re around.

“You can’t be running away though my angel… what if you got hurt, hm? And daddy wasn’t there to kiss it better. That was very naughty of you baby.” He tried to be strict with you, he really did, but one look at your little pouting face was enough to make him melt all over again.

“‘M sorry daddy…” You mumbled, you didn’t like it when your daddy tells you off, your daddy never tells you off! “Just wan’ed lollipop…”

“Oh baby, I know… don’t worry, Daddy isn’t angry anymore, he was just scared, okay? And you gotta promise you’re never gonna do that again, otherwise no more lollipops..”

“I pwomise daddy!!” you were fully capable of speaking normally, but even at age 3, you knew exactly the type of voice to use to get your daddy to forgive you. 

“Good girl, angel..” he cooed, still rocking you in his arms. His moment with his daughter was broken, however, when he realised that Henry was still in the room, looking slightly uncomfortable.

“You found her?” He questions Henry, his tone slightly guarded.

“Y-yeah, she was by the entrance.. Didn’t seem very fazed about the chaos she caused…” Henry tries to joke, to lighten the tension, but Lando’s expression was unreadable.

After a moment, Lando spoke up. “I’m not going to fire you.” an audible sigh of relief could be heard coming from Henry. “But you’re never looking after her again, you hear me?” Henry just nods quickly, too thankful that he hasn’t lost his job to care. “Good. you can go now.” The intern scrambles out the room.

“Daddy loves you so much, darling. Always remember that, okay? So so much..” He whispers to the small girl in his arms, who was now starting to doze off, after the excitement of the lollipop saga. 

He just smiled, pressing a loving kiss to the top of your head, before he laid you down on the sofa in his driver’s room, covering you with a blanket so you could sleep peacefully.

~~~

a/n: hope you enjoyed, send in any requests you have!

[side-by-side-sideblog]

As a butch individual I will not like you, fuck you, talk to you, make friends with you, or entertain you if you hate men, neither will my partner and other butches I know. It is not progressive, man hating isn't queer culture, because men are queer culture. Men are why I am masc, they accepted my masculinity first, lesbians were butch and masculine phobic to me for 8 years till I figured my shit out. I know that isn't the norm, but it isn't rare either.

These people put me back in the closet over and over. They don't support gender or sex being a spectrum, if they do they're showing no signs of it. They think saying men dni will stop guys who harass people but they don't stop because they don't care about consent and a dni doesn't change that. There are plenty of girl bloggers who also don't respect consent and send people gore and threats over minor disagreements. We don't go after them hardly at all in comparison considering we have people who've been doing that since 2016 and earlier that people still reblog and uplift because they're women. Men doing that on here don't get that treatment, because it's rightfully wrong. Most other sites white non queer men do getaway with that more while women don't, the Tumblr user base reversing that isn't progressive, because cis white women here get more slack then anyone else because trans fems, trans mascs, intersex people, and non white people get the "evil" tag over small shit, let alone actual bad things.

We teach in current society that men are incapable of consent, as if it's in their nature. This isn't true, but it sure does create a lot of guys who lack boundaries. That doesn’t mean Man = Bad it means society saying Man = Wild Beast is bad. A man is just whoever identifies as one, and identifying as a man has nothing to do with lack of consent, or toxic masculinity. I sometimes wonder if I identify as butch in a man way, idk, and I don't care, I am who I am, and women are who I spend time with in a queer way. My closeness to masculinity isn't traitor behavior. Femininity isn't Divinity, I do not worship women. Masculinity isn't an Ignominity, I do not criminalize men. Masculinity is also not Divinity, and Femininity isn't an Ignominity. Both can be fallible at times when the conditions are right, but they are neutral markers.

To make man = good we do that by just changing ourselves and our ideas of masculinity being bad, then we teach it to everyone else, including kids, friends, partners, and parents. When people stop the "boys will be boys" then more men will be taught consent.

I have an actual irrational hatred for a character that makes me burst into anger and hour long rants (not joking) because I see him as the epitome of toxic masculinity. Seeing him in a profile picture can ruin my day, but I do not put him in a dni list because I am not going to blame fans of him for my distaste in how the media itself supports his bad actions as good. Just like if I get harassed by men who lack consent, I will not blame all men and put men dni.

Saying "I block ＿" is better anyway.

Plus, how can you know someone's a woman? Not everyone has pronouns listed, gender listed, or just a big neon sign saying "I'm a woman." you will have no idea if people are respecting your frankly outrageous ask of who can follow or reblog your posts.

Men on this site who respect women and reblog posts do exist, and there are a lot of them. Also trans eggs who are on this site are not going to figure themselves out through media like mlp, she-ra, and whatever you post by saying men dni. My trans sister cracked her egg six months ago, so for her blog she would have steered clear of men dni disclaimers and probably blocked them out of respect. Now how does she undo that, go through her entire block list? That would be crazy work for people who wouldn't have respected her pre transition (which they didn't, not even other trans girls or queer gurls in highschool did, only now would they support her. That's what man hating does to people.)

There is no simple solution to keeping people away, oh wait... It's called blocking.

tldr; Having a dni for an entire demographic of people just for the flaws of a few inside doesn't work. It never will. People who don't care about consent will breach it to hurt you.

if you have "cishet men dni" in your bio i, a trans man, will not touch you with a 10 foot pole. i should not be forced to out myself as a trans man just to interact with you. on top of that, cishet men are not inherently evil. stop trying to reinvent bioessentialism with your "girl good, boy bad!" mentality.

[sunnysidesevenup]

Hello and welcome to my second event! Moonlight Song is still ongoing, so don’t worry if you still wanted to join that event as well <3 I just enjoy working on multiple things at once.

I’ve been pretty excited for this event, as many people know. I love coming up with events and making all the little assets for it, it really is so much fun and I adore seeing people’s entries!!! So, without further ado, here’s the Mad Tea Party Event!!!

Rose Court: Mad Tea Party

Every year, the high society of The Queendom of Roses hosts a party, in traditional tea party fashion. The host and organizer changes every year, and this year specifically is a special event: the reclusive and world famous author William Archibald James Alexander the Fifth is hosting it, a man who has not been seen in public for nearly fifty years!

Although, apparently, the man has given his grandson the task of organizing the party, and will not be attending. Never mind that his grandson is a bit young, and has never been heard of before now, and no one even knew William had a partner… But he’s surely capable, right?

As part of famous arcane academies, both RSA and NRC, as well as a few other academies around the globe, have been invited to send some of their best and brightest! This is considered a wonderful debut environment for promising members of society, after all!

NRC, of course, hosts a lottery for the students to win the lucky privilege of attending (…and the privilege of sharing transportation with RSA students).

Dress Code:

The invitations, written by the host and organizer, are VERY clear about the dress code. One must wear a colorful and eye catching outfit, and a hat. No hat, no entry. You may, upon entrance, attempt to convince said host of the validity of your chosen hat.

Here are some moodboards, and a reference. “Circus Lolita” is a good starting point to search for, but feel free to mix and match whatever styles you want!

Rules:

it’s not at all necessary to be following me to participate in this event! ANYONE is welcome to join!

Any type of entry is welcome: cards, general art, edits, fics, anything!

It’s not required to use the backgrounds I made, I simply thought it would be fun to draw one ^^

If you don’t want to link your character to my oc, don’t worry about it! It’s not necessary to follow the event story, you can still have fun with the outfits and aesthetic if you want, I don’t mind at all!

If you WOULD like your oc to interact with Ali or Tilly, feel free! You have my permission.

ANY Character is welcome to this event! NRC, RSA, some other school or place… Feel free to come up with some random reason your oc could be attending!

I will be writing my own ships in the event story, but don't hesitate to include characters in this event who may be shipped with the same character! Like I said, it's not necessary to follow the event story at all. This is all for fun.

You can draw/write for your own character OR a canon character, whatever you want <3 there are “official” participants, but this is all for fun, so it’s not necessary to stick to those.

Please tag me and use #Mad Tea Time! with your entry so I can properly gush about it ^^

There is NO DEADLINE on this event! Go crazy!

Backgrounds for the SR Cards:

Featured Characters:

[Limited Character] SSR Tilly

SSR Ali

SSR Ruggie

SSR Che’nya

SR Riddle

SR Idia

SR Jade

SR Silver

SR Azul

R Kalim

R Epel

R Trey

-

[artsninspo]

006 | Richmond Inc.

「 ✦ full library & archive ✦ 」

「 ✦ aaron pierre & characters library ✦ 」

⇚ 005

♠ summary: Thrust into leadership, Lorence battles pressure, secrecy, and an enigmatic boss—until his unexpected attentiveness causes things to heat up more than expected ☕.

♠ pairing: Terry Richmond (Aaron Pierre - Rebel Ridge) X Lorence Cole (Black Fem OC)

♠ word-count: ~2.6K

⌖ - Richmond Inc. HQ

The new demands of my position are both a gift and a curse as I’m required to expand my knowledge base and think as a leader. There’s an element of freedom that I've been robbed of in this new position. There’s no time for fresh ideas and innovation in the same way there's no freedom to make mistakes. There’s no one to ask to review the work I have - I'm the final step in the pecking order before the other’s at my level look and ultimately Richmond’s eyes scan over it. I’d be lying if I said the thought doesn’t unnerve me. Dissatisfaction on his face and the scolding that will undoubtedly follow is a nagging inevitability. I’ve sat through so many briefings that I miss doing the work. This week has been an overwhelming barrage of discourse, planning and preparation. We’ve gone over logistics and transportation which is my specialty. Monaco is a logistical and transportation nightmare but I’ve taken all the necessary notes to make sure everything goes off without a hitch. Which includes sending one of my best agents there in person to scope out the scene and get the necessary measurements and blueprints. It’s my first major assignment and with my budget sky’s the limit. Consulting for the organization responsible for the formula one race's security is not something I ever considered in the realm of possibility; so I make the most of it. I add to my list of tasks and lock the documents before going over my new operating budgets. I still have money to spend but until my best guy is back I can’t be sure where the resources will be best allocated. I’m researching local charities in the area when Richmond appears in the doorway. It’s his first time stopping by all week and I can’t say I’ve missed the light eyed giant. 

“Sir” I stand.

“Cole, I’ve received preliminary drafts from all the other teams. Is there something you require assistance with?” He asks, leaning in the doorway. He’s in a white knitted sweater today looking too casual for a man like him. 

“I thought we had another week” I respond, disregarding how his arms fill out the otherwise cuddly, cozy ensemble, transforming it into something different altogether.

“I like to look over things by the project’s midpoint,” he explains, folding his arms.

“Well, I’m new and I didn’t know that” I swallow daring to meet his eyes.

“We can go over what you have for now,” Richmond says entering my office. I straighten, hating his presence and proximity. With Richmond it isn't walking on eggshells, it's like walking on glass barefoot. I stand walking over to the table and pressing the projector button. I unencrypted my files and show him what I’ve been working on. He watches attentively, his eyes scanning through the details projected in front of him.

“They’re color coded by threat level” he says perceptively interpreting the markings I have on the 3D map model of the area the races will take place in. 

“Yeah, it determines what will work in terms of an emergency exits.” I state, explaining my process.

“So you don’t only look at routes?” He asks.

“No, when I develop my plans I consider routes, danger, closures, alternate routes and transportation that is as discreet as possible while being resilient and agile” I explain and he nods zooming in on my tablet.

“You’re looking for places to land helicopters? Possible counter sniper positions.” He says interpreting my work in seconds. Impressive isn’t the word. Nothing is explicitly stated there’s just circles, dots, x’s and stars in a variety of colours.

“Yeah” I nod and he looks from the tablet back to me, with a ghost of a smirk on his lips, only for it to be gone as soon as it appears.

“You’re doing Jameson work for him.” He comments.

“I understand why our teams are separate but I think all aspects should inform each other” I swallow and his expression hardens.

“That’s not your job. It’s to take direction. No one should be fully informed of the other's actions in case of leaks. Your team needs to be agile. Keep your work to yourself” he orders going back to his military facade.

“With all the testing you still don’t trust us?” I ask and he scowls. His jaw sets before clicking as he clenches  it. 

“It’s not about trust. It’s about what a person gives away during torture. How can I protect my team from that? The rules are in place for a reason. Adhere to them” he orders again but his eyes are more sensitive. If I were a psychiatrist I could diagnose his paranoia and mood swings but as a civilian I table my judgement.

“The non patronizing way to say that is;  follow protocol Cole” I quip before he gets carried away and it ends poorly.

“I don’t care if you don’t like my delivery. At least you’ll be alive not to like it” he comments standing. I can't help the sharp look I send his way. If he were anyone else I wouldn’t put up with it. “Good work” he says finally but somehow the praise falls flat.

“Have you lost a lot of people?” I ask and the tension in his shoulders answers the question in an instant. His expression sobers. 

“I’ve seen a lot of death,” he nods. I look him over before nodding. It at least explains his incessant over preparation and commitment to structure, secrecy and preventative measures.

“I’m sorry,” seems the only appropriate response.

“You won’t have to be if you follow protocol. Your safety equipment needs to be fitted before we go wheels up, go see Cassandra. I’m scheduling you for some extra hand to hand” he says adding more to my plate.

“I don’t have time for extra hand to hand, I’m behind” I tell him pointing to the projections.

“No you’re not” he swallows. “You’ll fry your brain if you continue staring at blueprints. Movement will serve you more than sitting at your desk” he says parroting what I’ve heard from Jameson. I wonder if it's advice Jameson has commandeered from the Boss.

“Okay” I concede. RIchmond seems surprised by my concession but he nods, slipping his hands into the pockets of his trousers. Cassandra appears in the doorway and I let out a relieved breath.

“I hope you’re being nice.” she says, looking him over. Richmond doesn’t dignify her with a response. “Are you finished or can I steal Cole - her safety second skins are in” Cassandra says.

“We’re done and I have ten minutes” he says looking at his watch. I go along with them walking to his office suite instead of asking questions. Two suits wait in a box in his conference room. One is my perfect nude shade, it nearly looks like mesh but it's made of something stronger. It’s fully opaque and when I hold it up I frown wondering what in the T’Challa Black Panther, Richmond has paid for me to wear.

I raise a brow. “What’s this for?” 

“Protection, no burns, cuts or bullets can pierce it. A safety precaution” Cassandra responds.

“Try it on,” Richmond says, stepping out of the room.

“Please!” Cassandra scowls at him as she closes the door. I hold it up again and wonder what else money can buy. I head into the ensuite and I undress quickly. I step into the unitard that fits almost like a second skin. I manage the nearly invisible zipper at my side and look in the mirror. I look remarkably naked and tense up when I see shaded contouring that could pass for real hips and ass.

“Need help?” I hear Cassandra ask from outside.

“Uhh?” I respond and she giggles.

“That’s exactly how I felt - can we come in?” she asks.

“I guess” I responded, not quite sure. I remind myself I’m not naked as I leave the bathroom and re-enter the conference room as they come in. Cassandra’s eyes scan me.

“Toes are wonky” she says to Richmond whose eyes are glued to my body. 

“The suit is wonky” he comments with eyes on my breasts. “May I touch you?” he asks without making eye contact.

“Ok” I respond unsure if no is even an option and he stands behind me pulling the material taut until I can feel it on my chest and stomach like a corset. When I look behind he hes standing with a handful of the suit.

“That’s how it should fit” he tells Cassandra, sparing a look her way. The suit feels completely different with this kind of tension. He grapes lower, gathering the same amount of fabric in the small of my back. I feel like a doll in his care as he manhandles the suit. It’s oddly erotic, or maybe it’s been too long since a man has had his hands on me. He goes to do the same around my hips but there’s no stretch left. 

“Can you see if there’s any give?” he asks as if he hasn't already probably made at least five HR violations. I oblige finding some give.

“Hold it like that” Richmond demands and I wonder if he’s this bossy in bed. Girl, get your head out of the gutter!

“Cassandra test its resistance” he says and Cassandra comes over with some sort of scanner gun reading all over my body noting weak points with a red marker as well as what needs to be removed. 

“The suit has to fit like a glove, it’s most effective when the fibres are extended to their limit they interlock creating … well armour.” she explains.

“What if I have to pee?” I ask being practical.

“You’ll get a zipper once everything else fits seamlessly” Cassandra explains. It’s another level of overkill.

“Does everyone wear these?” I ask.

“They aren't required for smaller scale events, I always wear mine for the big ones” she explains. Richmond is still staring at me and it makes me feel naked, the proximity, the physical toughness, the attention. My body hums like a starving stomach craving sustenance. I’m gonna need to see a therapist for sure, I think looking away from him and back to Cassandra who clears her throat.

“Mr. Richmond, you have a call in two” she says to him and he nods, peeling his eyes from my ass. 

“Ensure it fits perfectly...Please” He says, taking one last look at me. He looks at Cassandra who nods with a smirk on her lips before leaving.

“I’m gonna go change” I announce heading into the restroom. When I get out I hand her the suit.

“Is he always so hands on?” I ask, a little unnerved.

“Hands on… he was with me but he was a lot less attentive and there was a lot more back and forth bickering until he pulled it so tight I couldn't breathe comfortably.” she discloses amused.

“I’m pretty sure that’s wrong of him” I remark.

“Terry’s like family - he’d never actually hurt me and lord knows he could” she huffs sitting on the conference table. Her disposition makes me think of them like siblings opposed to coworkers. The most toxic workplaces have the ‘family titles’ it's definitely a red flag.

“So how was your first week?’ she beams crossing her legs but my mind is on how it felt to be constricted in his hold and hugged by the suit.

“I’ve only considered quitting right now” I smile and she laughs.

“I came to your office because I was sure there was going to be fireworks. Terry was too but with how at ease he was I'd say you’re doing amazing on your first assignment. What was his feedback? I can help you decode its meaning to stay on his good side.” she smiles and I’m excited until I realize there was none.

“He just told me to stick to the protocol and that I did a good job. Oh and he prescribed extra hand to hand” I explain and her eyes light. Her smile widens like a Cheshire cat and she shakes her head.

“He’s setting me up to fail isn't he?” I ask, afraid of some humiliation ritual test.

Cassandra shakes her head. “No Lorence, it means you're keeping him up at night. He must think you're one of the best”

“I don’t copy.” I confess.

“The best agents are all the same Lorence and they never leave their people behind when shit hits the fan. He doesn't think you’ll be tripped up by the plans so he’s preparing you for the people.” she explains.

“Do I have anyone but him to fear?” I ask.

“No, that’s how I know you’re keeping him up. The guys that we’d need to fear see us as menu options - they don't know we’re trained to kick their ass and so they never have security with them. They’re easy to outsmart before things get ‘hand to hand’” Cassandra explains and it’s consistent with training. I get a reverie of the intensity in Richmonds eyes as he held the extra fabric of my suit taut, again. I never put much stock in her words before.

“I think you're wrong. Richmond doesnt look like he needs help attracting women. I’m sure you’ve had to shoo away your fare share.” I respond.

“Are you kidding?! He’s a work-a-holic. I've only seen him flirt for better access. His indiscretions are kept from me if they exist” she comments. “Come on, let's go shopping for after hours  in Monaco - I have a few party invites with an open plus one slot.” she winks and it sounds like a good way to relax and enjoy the rest of the day. Retail therapy is still therapy after all.

Cassandra and I end up in the heart of the city in stores with names that English speakers need tutorials to pronounce. Cassandra can sell salt to a snail because she convinces me to indulge in whims that are unfamiliar and then she swipes the company card stating outfits while on vacation are somehow a business expense. Paranoia makes me set aside the amounts in case it’s some test or something the Boss intends to scream at me for later. But for the rest of the night from shopping all the way to my night routine I’m a little uneasy. Terry Richmond’s ability to rattle me is unmatched. Whether in anger or cloaked kindness. The intensity of his expression is imprinted in my mind. 

I lay awake in bed slightly amused by the irony of Cassandra’s words. At least if they’re true I’m keeping him from sleeping too. It feels like some consolation for all he’s put me through. Maybe my haywire feelings are the result of something akin to Stockholm syndrome. The result of that stupid test. His gaze comes back to me again and the attention held within them. My body heats as recognition clicks into place, its reaction starts to make sense. After years of feeling unnerved and unsure I’ve read the first real emotions from him. There was real sincerity in his eyes. No resentment or animosity. Maybe hints of more complicated emotions but at its core it seemed to be pure preoccupation with my safety.

My body seems to settle at my brain's recognition of the day's events. The anxious energy leaves my body and I settle when it becomes clear to me that before all else my boss wants me to be okay. Before I take my last conscious thought, I promise to move forward with Richmond with that at the forefront of my brain.

authors note: what are you doing if you're Lorence and the boss gets all close and touchy feely? Fight, freeze, call HR - I have to know! Let me know what you think in a comment or reblog 🖤 if you enjoyed things heating up dont forget to comment, reblog and like!

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[daresplaining]

do you think matt murdock finds catharsis in violence? in the context of comics btwi'm of the opinion that he isnt a sadist and doesnt necessarily enjoy violence but i also cant think of any comic pages that would support my interpretation, was wondering if u could help w that?

I certainly think he does, at times. One thing that tends to happen when Matt reaches his lowest points, generally in darker runs (I'm about to post a whole bunch of Brubaker/Lark...), is that he will lash out physically. The Daredevil identity serves as an escape for him in a variety of ways: it frees him, it empowers him, and when his mental health is suffering, yes, it gives him an excuse to hit people. He doesn't always give in to that urge, of course, but it is there. This internal rant he goes on during a moment of frustration in Bendis's run comes immediately to mind:

"There is this overwhelming desire I’m filled with to punch someone in the face!!! Anyone will do at this point. But I know that isn’t right. And it certainly isn’t what my sensei taught me, but I can’t help it. I want to punch someone really, really badly." 

Grief can make Matt impulsive and careless. He starts a bar fight while in civvies immediately following Milla's hospitalization.

Dakota: "This is just what we need...a blind man who half the city knows is really Daredevil...getting in a bar fight. I manage to extricate him without too much injury...and get us out of there before anyone takes his picture. He tells me with his special senses he overheard those two guys planning a robbery. So he decided to scare them out of it. After hearing that, I know Matt's judgment is impaired. And not just because of a few drinks." Daredevil vol. 2 #106 by Ed Brubaker, Paul Azaceta, Matt Hollingsworth, and Chris Eliopoulos

In the very next issue, he loses his temper and punches Luke Cage (and hurts his hand, because he's Luke Cage).

Daredevil vol. 2 #107 by Ed Brubaker, Greg Rucka, Michael Lark, Stefano Gaudiano, Matt Hollingsworth, and Chris Eliopoulos

In "The Devil in Cell Block D", Matt becomes so violent in prison following Foggy's apparent death that Frank Castle decides he needs to swoop in and rescue him from doing something he might regret. Here's Ben Urich in court after Matt has been denied special protection in prison, noticing the same thing (like the Dakota scene above, it's neat to see this side of Matt from the perspective of outside observers):

Ben: "As they're carting him away, though, I see something that chills me to the bone. Matt smiles. Just a little. Just enough so that I know my worst fears have come to pass...that they're sending him exactly where he WANTS to be..." Daredevil vol. 2 #83 by Ed Brubaker, Michael Lark, Stefano Gaudiano, Frank D'Armata, and Cory Petit

(As I said: lots of Brubaker/Lark.) Nocenti, too, was deeply interested in exploring the violence inherent in superhero stories, and approached Matt's relationship to it in a variety of ways in her run, including in this memorable scene where he shares some of his darkest urges:

Daredevil vol. 1 #267 by Ann Nocenti, John Romita Jr., Gregory Wright, Al Williamson, and Joe Rosen

And heck, we can also look at Matt's various murder attempts: his near-murder of Bullseye following Elektra's death, and then actual murder of Bullseye that kicked off the "Shadowland" story arc:

Shadowland #1 by Andy Diggle, Billy Tan, Christina Strain, Joe Caramagna, et al.

And of course, his various attempts to kill the Kingpin, most recently following Mike's death in Devil's Reign:

Devil's Reign #6 by Chip Zdarsky, Marco Checchetto, Marcio Menyz, and Clayton Cowles

On the subject of Mike: I would argue (and did, at length, in this post) that Matt's dream of his brother shooting Bullseye in the "Death of Daredevil" story arc was its own form of violent catharsis.

A key early issue that delved into this side of Matt's character for what I'd say was the first time is Daredevil volume 1 #140, written by Bill Mantlo. In this issue, what begins as a seemingly standard fight between Matt, Gladiator, and the Beetle becomes a violent, brutal beatdown as civilian lives are put on the line and Matt becomes increasingly angry.

Daredevil vol. 1 #140 by Bill Mantlo, Sal Buscema, Klaus Janson, and Karen Mantlo

I don't like to overemphasize this aspect of Matt's character-- not because I don't find it interesting (I do!) but because a lot of modern takes on Daredevil (notably, the live action adaptations) have leaned into this idea of him as a violent, brooding, bone-breaking bruiser, which is an oversimplification and also plainly not true about a lot of his stories. However, this is a side of Matt that does undeniably exist. He gets unpleasant when his life falls apart, and this can be a part of that deterioration.

I will also say that it's not just Matt. Here is my dear friend Danny Rand, who (at least in his modern comics) is waaay more well-adjusted and emotionally controlled than Matt, succumbing to this very same urge:

Power Man and Iron Fist vol. 2 #4 by Fred Van Lente, Wellinton Alves, Bruno Hang, Nelson Pereira, and Joe Caramagna

(He goes and beats up some white supremacists, as you do.)

All I'm saying is that it happens to the best of them.

[addicted-to-dc]

Jekyll/Hyde Part 4 - Taskforce 141 x Reader

< Prev Chapter

(A/N): After battling Word (and myself) I finally present the new chapter! I promise I've been planning out the story, it just became more complex than originally intended (as all my writing tends to be). Shit's going to get juicy.

Tags for those who encouraged me to write this (: @greeniegreengreen @aeilani  @poetslastdeath

Content Warnings: PTSD, Violence, descriptions of wounds, previous taskforce betrayal, angst. As always, if I'm missing tags do not hesitate to message me or post a comment.

//////////////////////////////////////

The ringing is back. High-pitched and sharp, it slices through the synapses of your mind. Pressure builds and builds until it’s all you can think about. Your eyes remain closed until a firm grasp on your hair brings you back to the present.

Urszula’s fist tightens, threatening to take another large chunk of hair. Blood seeps from unseen wounds, obscuring your vision in your right eye. Everything’s tinted red, including Maryna. Your head pounds in the same rhythm as her laughter. Cackling more like.

Your weapons and armor were stripped long after you sent the dogs to scout the area. It's a stupid, predictable mistake that’ll cost you your life. It already cost you your trust, security, and faith. What else are you going to lose?

“The Huntress is speechless? I thought I’d never see the day, Captain!” Maryna teases, kneeling beside your shaking figure. “All that planning and effort, only for the rug to be pulled from beneath you.”

She tears off your mask, chuckling as she drops it onto the ground and shatters the lower jaw with her boot. Rage blooms heat across your body, snarling at her before you can even stop it. You fight against Urszula’s hold, screaming when the struggle costs you a fist of hair. Your nails scrape against her single hand holding them back. Then you feel something along her belt, dangling precariously from its activator. You always told her to reorganize her equipment. Good thing she never listened to you.

Maryna spits at your feet, her hand squeezing your jaw so bone grinds against bone, “Just as feral as the mutts you take in, Little Huntress. Your ferality won’t save you now, nothing will.”

Your hand grips the grenade, squeezing tightly as you lean forward. 

The grenade explodes, sending smoke everywhere. You launch your head forward, losing a handful of hair but gaining a satisfying scream curdling the air when you rip her nose off. The grip on your hands slackens enough to roll away and activate your panic button. The dogs will get here soon enough. 

Holding in your coughs, your lungs burn as rage and determination urge you forward. Once you break free from the smokey shroud, your eyes immediately catch your rifle lying with the rest of your equipment. It’s dismantled. Fuck. You snatch your knife and a Semtex. 

Using the snow for cover, you distance yourself from the sisters and try to think. Your head wound feels like it’s rattling, your brain’s knocked loose and bouncing against your skull. Taking some snow, you wipe your face down and move on. The cold melts against your hand, numbing your mind to what you’re about to do. You’re washing your hands of this. It’s you versus the world right now, and you’re going to WIN.

Your eyes snap back to the smoke, watching as Urszula stumbles out coughing. Maryna follows, clutching her nose. Your pistol is in her hand. Bitch. 

Whenever a soldier breaks, they usually describe it as a snap. Something pulling taut and breaking. Other times it meant losing a piece of yourself, something digging in and tearing a vital section out. So why does it feel freeing? Why does it feel like you were missing something until now? A release rather than a fracture.

Readjusting your grip, the knife hits its mark in Maryna’s hand. She drops the pistol. Good. Polish swears echo to the high heavens, but your brain fails to translate them as you tackle her to the ground. She raises her bad hand to block you, unwittingly presenting the handle to you.

It feels as if you’re removing an ancient sword from a stone. A godly being offering a weapon of divine salvation and promise, whispering that this isn’t over yet. Take up your arms and keep fighting. 

Her hand gives way and splits in two, blood gushing as you drive the blade into her chest repeatedly. Urszula’s hands try to wrap around you again, but your knife sinks into her throat. Wide eyes stare back as she lands next to her sister, gasping for air that’ll never fill their lungs again. You wipe the bloody knife on their clothes and sheath it. 

The Semtex feels heavy in your hand, but even the new weight doesn’t prevent you from pulling the pin. It practically feels weightless when you toss it. The fire will purge all.

The explosion jostles the world with its power, sending pieces of the sisters to rain upon you. This is the calm before the storm. You know it. The broken mask lays at your feet in the aftermath, a cruel mirror revealing what this is. What you’ve become. Kneeling, you grab the face plate. Only the jaw section is broken, following the curve of the boot that crushed it. 

It fits your face perfectly, the damage leaving your mouth and lower jaw open to the elements. Then you hear barking. Too close-

“I think the lad’s had enough, Jekyll.” Price.

Snapping into the present, you see Ruse in your hands. He’s panting with a wild smile and crazed eyes, groaning as he maneuvers to get more pets. You rustle him up before leaning back, leaving him to wander back to Sir and Bear. The pup huffs at the interruption, groaning as he collapses between the elder dogs.

“Nearly cuddled the poor pup to death,” Sunshine teases, leaning over to give Bear ear scritches. She leans in, tilting her head to the side until she finally starts kicking her leg out. “Good Bear.”

Sir huffs at the lack of attention but quickly rolls to his side when Price gives the suffering pup belly rubs. A smile creeps onto your face. Small, but still there. It’s been a while since they joined you on a mission. It was too risky without a full-time task force. You hope this one sticks. They warmed up quickly. 

Leaning back, you close your eyes and exhale loudly. You know you have hours left on the trip. A cold nose hits your hand three times, urging you to open your eyes. Sir sits once your eyes are on him, tail wagging. 

“Wha’s he waitin' fer?” 

Your eyes flick to the Scot’s, reaching into the pack next to you to pull out a knotted rope. You toss it over, watching him catch it. Sir stalks up to him, sitting. His tail wags, waiting not so patiently to play. He whines, shifting from one paw to the other before changing tactics. 

“Gaz, can ye?” 

Bear’s deep love noises capture your attention, and you turn to see her leaning on Sunshine for more cuddles. “A bit occupied, mate.”

She hasn’t done that to someone other than you since Dane. Bile threatens to curdle your stomach. Sir speaks, barely stringing along a few syllables. He stomps his paw, glaring at him while speaking again. He’s telling him off.

He bites onto the rope, moving it further onto his lap, and sits again. What a patient boy.

Mohawk finally gives in to the puppy dog's eyes, gripping fiercely onto the rope when Sir latches onto it. He shakes his head but fails to tear the rope away, tail wagging as he realizes how strong the man is. The Scot’ll keep him occupied for a while at least. 

You grab your journal out of your duffel, nearly snagging its leather binding on the teeth of the bag’s zipper. Huffing, you open the page and dig around for something of substance to read. Something familiar to distract yourself from the thought of HIM. Training tactics and notes about the dogs’ feeding schedule, but nothing works. 

“’Ow’d you get into training ‘em?”

Your eyes snap to Ghost. His gloved hand firmly holds Sir’s rope, holding it steady as the dog struggles to budge an inch. Even Sir’s usual jerky motions and feigning are in vain. An unmovable object. You wonder if the past would be different if you were able to get him before Price did.

“Training dogs in general or these furballs?” you ask. The question is too open-ended for you.

“The furballs.” 

Sir jerks again. Ghost retaliates with a tug of his own. Nails scrape against metal alongside Sir’s low growl. The noise makes your hand twitch, instinctive to gravitate towards a weapon. At least your journal covered it. 

“Sir’s my second dog,” you start, mentally unraveling stored-away memories. “He was the runt of a litter I found in Germany, kept him myself, and gave the rest to the other trainers.”

“Why the runt? Hey!” Sunshine protests as Bear crawls onto his lap, smiling up at him. He doesn’t stay mad for long, melting under her attention. You don’t even realize you’re smiling until-

“What happened to the first?” 

Price’s question sends a zing of hurt through your system. “Helen. They sold her to a mercenary group while I was away, and claimed she was the bright start of a new program. I could have followed her, hell, they tried to use her to get me to leave.”

It would have been so much easier. A fully funded program with yourself on top, and glory at your fingertips, but it all felt wrong. Too easy. Like someone was guiding you with a blindfold, saying that it was just dark.

“I had to restart everything after she left. Sir was tough, but he helped make improvements and train these two. Bear was rescued from a shelter, and legally mine to prevent another incident from happening. Ruse…”

You stare at his face. His tongue bounces back and forth alongside his rapid breaths, tail wagging as soon as he makes eye contact with you. He still hasn’t grown out of his puppy phase. You hope he doesn’t. “Ruse was found on an op, barely a month old when I found him at a dog fighting ring.”

“Enemy dog, you’re sure he won’t switch sides?” It’s a joke. You know it is, but it sends a jolt in your system. Too easy to read. Sunshine catches up on his own words, the scrunch in his brow giving it away. “Sorry, the little bugger is probably wrapped around your finger.”

All four of you look at him, which makes his tail wag even more. He whines and leans closer to Price, licking his face before stealing his hat. “Fucker. Drop it.”

That steals a laugh from you. Deep and guttural. 

Ruse sighs and drops it, migrating to you with his tail tucked between his legs. He collapses at your feet, huffing before nuzzling closer. “Don’t worry, Sunshine, he knows who his mama is. It’s just a preference for the runts; they have more room to grow.”

Ghost releases the rope. The release sends Sir back as he tugs, landing on top of Ruse. The pup nips at him before stealing his rope.

His eyes are still on you. Dark, endless voids hungry for something you can’t quite place. Maybe you’re projecting. It’s enough intensity to want to make you sink your teeth into his neck, but that’ll for sure get you shoved into the looney bin. You’d just break out. No one’s been able to hold you for long. Your finger finds the burns lining your right leg, the textured skin grounding you. Get a grip on yourself. 

“Shadow Company, that’s who has Helen.”

You nod, petting Ruse when he whines. “Yeah, they nearly had me too. If this hadn’t worked out...”

You dare not utter the words. Speak it into existence and it’ll come true. The open invitation to Shadow Company is a temptation that will lead you to your death. Whether it’s physically or morally will be a toss of a coin. Be under Sheperd’s thumb or risk torture and death for using Shadow company to get to them. You’re supposed to be dead, and yet the offer still found you. The pit in your stomach grows.

A hand on your shoulder jolts you out of your thoughts, head snaps up to see Ghost standing before you. He shakes your shoulder a bit, confusing you even more. He chuckles, quiet and raspy. His hand moves to your chin, but you snatch it before it touches the scarred flesh. “Easy there, Jekyll, just trying to shake those notions out of your head.”

You scoff, but his other hand succeeds in what the other couldn’t. Your jaw firmly grasped in his gloved hand, the knit material scratching your skin. The dogs begin to growl at Ghost, but you hold your hand up. They stop immediately and shuffle over to Price. Everyone watches in silence.

Then he just shakes your head. Confusion morphs into understanding, and when it finally clicks, he steals a laugh out of you. Then another when he continues, doubling down before giving you respite. “Anymore rattling in there?” 

“Rattled out,” you respond, jumping when he squeezes your chin. “Careful, Lieutenant, I bite.”

A low, gravelly chuckle escapes through the barrier of the mask. He doesn’t let go, only dragging his fingers until the scratch of his gloves is out of range. 

You lean back and rest your head against the cool metal of the transport. At least that will dull the ache of the pain of your memories.

[tarotbyjam24]

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[ilikekidsshows]

People really gotta stop sending tweets to TA about what happens in the show cause I swear he's usually lying, letting people do the thinking for him, or just straight up about to steal people's ideas/theories and later say that it was planned all along and the theorist were just really good at picking up what he was(n't) putting down

---

He loves when viewers who are smarter than him come up with stuff he can take the credit for. Like, there are even people who believe that the ending of season 5 wasn't originally based on the ending of ‘The Bubbler’, that that's just what he's saying now that some fan pointed out the similarities and he could swoop in and pat himself on the back for his “consistent characters”. Marinette didn't know Gabriel was an abusive dirtbag in ‘The Bubbler’, and she let Adrien believe a misunderstanding he first voiced. In the season 5 finale, she looked at the sensory deprivation chamber Adrien was put into and went: “Oh, I’m gonna gaslight this boy so hard people won't recognize me as the same character afterwards!” Very different situations even if the result was the same.

Like, it's obvious SentiAdrien was stolen from the fandom because, when you look at the show in isolation, it serves no purpose. But, if you also look at the fandom, you can see how the theory stans were following that “story” very keenly despite it amounting to nothing. An idea stolen from the fandom included only for the fandom. Same thing with the “reverse love square”. People complained it was too short, not that it was clearly an unsustainable story idea and how that's clearly the reason it shouldn't have been used. But Astruc had something popular to plagiarise, so he did what he does best.

Astruc’s favorite Twitter line is “all the information is in the episodes”, when everyone knows the episodes are inconsistent and full of retcons. The episodes are useless as a source of information, because they are unreliable and no one can know what parts are still considered canon by the writers. But, when Astruc uses that line, he can wait for the smarter than him fans to create an explanation that he can then point at like he came up with it and like that was the intended reading all along.

[beldamtarot]

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[dandylion240]

The following month was spent with Robert and Patricia screening prospective nannies. They provided Casey with the ones they felt would be the best candidates for the job. Lynn a young woman with a flair for the dramatics and a gift for music. Eleanor a graduate student from business law looking to pay off her student loans. The final candidate was Pamela who had a winning smile and happy disposition. Patricia liked her best feeling she would be a good fit for Casey and Eddie. Robert on the other hand had reservations about her sincerity. She was a little too smooth and nice, he had the impression she was hiding something.

Casey reviewed the candidate qualifications and read the comments that Robert included from their interviews. He decided that the only way he was going to be able to decide which nanny would be the best fit for him and Eddie was to give each of them a trial run. Each would have one week, living in his house so that he could observe how they interacted with his son and for him to see if he could tolerate them living in his house.

The first one was Pamela, she arrived Monday morning with a brilliant smile and ready laugh that sounded like music. Casey couldn’t help but be drawn to her upbeat personality. She had been there for four days and Casey thought about cancelling the other two candidates. He enjoyed coming home evenings to the sound of his son laughing as Pamela lavished Eddie with attention. Smiling Casey went to change clothes.

Upon entering his bedroom, Casey had the uneasy feeling that someone had been through his things. He couldn’t place his finger on why, nothing looked out-of-place, just a little rumpled. Opening his dresser drawer his normally meticulously folded clothes were wrinkled as if they had been moved and put back. He didn’t have much and what little he had was in the bank, except for his rainy day fund. He had been saving, setting a little aside from every paycheck for Eddie’s birthday. Kneeling he pulled out the bottom drawer, it too looked rumpled and out-of-place. Taking out the small tin, pulling off the lid. Empty! Just the other day he had over five hundred dollars in it.

“Pam we need to talk,” he said upon entering Eddies room.

Looking up Pamela smiled nodding, she picked up Eddie placing him in his playpen. She followed Casey out into the living room “what’s up?” she asked sweetly.

Grimly Casey held out the empty tin “did you take it?”

Staring at the tin then back at Casey she shook her head.

“Don’t lie to me,” Casey said through clenched teeth “I know someone’s been through my things. You’re the only person I know whose had the opportunity to do it.”

“It wasn’t me,” Pamela crossed her arms daring him to contradict her.

“If not you, then who did you let into my house?” Casey asked refusing to back down. “I’m not stupid so don’t treat me like I am.”

With a smirk she came up to him “no you’re just an easy mark. If I had wanted to, I could have emptied this entire house. Instead I took your measly five hundred dollars.”

“I want it back,” Casey insisted.

“You’re dreaming,” she replied.

Balling his hand into fists Casey knew he’d never see his money again. “You’re done,” Casey told her. “I want you out of my house tonight.”

“But …. but I don’t have anyplace to go,” she sputtered her beautiful blue eyes misting up.

“You should have thought of that before you stole from me,” Casey said unmoved by her tears.

“You can’t just throw me out,” she protested.

“Again how is that my problem,” he shot back at her.

“What about Eddie? Who’ll watch him if you send me packing,” she smiled thinking she had him over a barrel.

Wanting nothing more than to wipe that irritating smile from her face he pulled his phone out. “Hey Rob, how’s it going?…. Good ….. Hey I need a favor. The nanny isn’t working out and I’m in need of a babysitter for the rest of the week ….. That’s great, thank you …. The next nanny starts on Monday … I’ll talk to you later …. ok good night.”

Smiling back at her “as you probably already heard Eddie’s taken care of. Now get out!”

Early Monday morning the new nanny arrived, smiling at Casey as he opened the door. “Hi I’m Eleanor,” she held out her hand.

Taking her hand Casey liked what he saw so far “come in Ms….”

“Just call me Eleanor,” she suggested walking past him.

“Ok,” Casey agreed a little put off by her informal ways. Frowning as he watched her inspect the room she was in. Not one word or question about his son had Casey wondering why she was there.

Completing her circuit around the room she pointed towards the easel “do you paint?”

Shrugging Casey said “yes” to her question.

“Oh these are lovely,” she said looking at the many paintings spread throughout the room. “Did you paint them?”

“Yes,” Casey crossed his arms as his irritation grew at her many questions. “Aren’t you the tiniest bit interested in knowing anything about my son? You know the one you’ll be watching.”

“Oh we have all day to get to know each other,” waving his question away. “You’re really good, have you thought about getting a manager and setting up an exhibit?”

“No,” Casey shook he head “look you’re here to care for my son, not to be my manager. Don’t you think you should be asking me relevant questions about Eddie’s care instead of my artwork?”

“What else do I need to know? I’ve read his file, he doesn’t have allergies, disabilities or illnesses. He’s a kid, what else is there to know?”

“Spoken like someone who doesn’t have kids,” Casey mumbled. Glancing at his watch “damn I’m going to be late.” Looking at Eleanor he wasn’t sure he wanted to leave his son in her care.

Smiling sweetly at him “go don’t worry about Edwin, he’ll be just fine.”

Letting himself be pushed out his own door, Casey stood outside rubbing his neck. Sighing he went to the car and pulled out his phone “Rob would you mind checking on Eddie throughout the day? …. No I don’t like the new nanny …. She’s more concerned about my lack of a manager then Eddie’s welfare …. She didn’t even know his name, called him Edwin …. Thanks Rob I owe you one.”

Coming home that night, it was unusually quiet. He’d gotten so used to coming home and hearing his son’s laughter that worry creased his forehead as  unpleasant memories of the past came to mind.  Eleanor jumped up from the couch as he entered the room.

“Oh good you’re home,” she clapped her hands “I’ve made a few inquiries …”

“Where’s Eddie?” Casey asked cutting her off.

“Taking a nap,” she said “now as I was saying…..”

“He shouldn’t be sleeping now,” Casey walked into his son’s room. “He’ll never sleep tonight.” Turning on the light, Eddie popped up from his crib “daddy home.” He lifted his little arms up to Casey.

Cuddling his son Casey felt the unmistakable dampness in his son’s diaper.

“How long has he been in this wet diaper?”

“How should I know when he wet himself?” Eleanor shrugged. “He wasn’t wet when I put him down.”

“and when was that?” Casey asked feeling his anger rise as he changed his son’s diaper observing the unmistakable evidence of a rash beginning from a dirty diaper that had been on too long.

Shrugging “I don’t know maybe an hour or two. I was busy and he was fussy so I put him down for a nap.” Making a face as the smell from the soiled diaper reached her nose, “besides I was working for your best interests in setting up an art exhibit at the gallery. I know what I’m doing, that is what I went to school for ….”

“I don’t need an exhibit or manager,” Casey said snuggling Eddie to him. “What I need is a good nanny to take care of the best interests of my son.”

“You’ve got it all wrong. You’re an amazing artist, you just need the right person to be your manager. I can be …..”

“You don’t get it do you?” Casey said his tone low and steady, his anger bubbling under the surface. “What if I don’t want to be famous?”

“Of course you do, everybody does,” she looked at him like he had grown a second head.

Scowling at her “I already have notoriety, I don’t want or need to be famous. I like what I do. I enjoy being an art critic. Painting is my hobby not my life.”

“But it could be so much more,” she said enthusiastically only hearing what she wanted to hear. Her eyes sparkling as she continued to try to persuade him to her way of thinking “Just one exhibit that’s all I ask and you’ll see how good you really are.”

“Weren’t you listening?” Casey asked his voice harsher than he expected. Eddie looked up at him in surprise beginning to whimper “Shhh it’s ok little man, Daddy’s not upset with you,” he comforted his son hugging him close.

“I don’t understand,” she said voice quivering on the verge of crying. “I only wanted to help.”

“You could have helped by doing your job and taking care of my son,” Casey sighed “look I’ll do the exhibit but this,” waving his hand “isn’t going to work. I need someone I can rely on to look after my son. I need someone I’m confident will have his best interests first not have their own agenda. I’m sorry.”

“I could stay until the end of the week,” she offered “I promise this won’t happen again.”

“I appreciate the offer but no I’ll make other arrangements.” Casey watched as she walked dejected into her room to pack.

Tossing Eddie into the air he wondered if he’d ever find the right nanny to watch his son. “Two down one to go,” he said out loud “What do you think little man, will the next nanny be a keeper?” Eddie giggled nodding his head “I hope you’re right.”

The last Nanny was due to arrive any minute and Casey could feel his anxiety sky rocketing. Would this one be the right fit for him and Eddie? He reviewed the comments Robert had written down for him. He noticed that this one was Robert’s first choice. Maybe he should have started with her instead of wasting his time with the other two.

A soft knock on the door jolted him out of his thoughts as he went to answer it. A young woman with bright red hair stood in front of him. Looking up she smiled holding out her hand “Hi I’m Lynn Matthews and you must be Mr. Bennett.”

He smiled as he took her hand, noting she was friendly and confident. “Please come in Ms. Matthews,” he stood aside to let her pass, closing the door behind them.

Turning Lynn smiled again “you mentioned in your son’s profile that he doesn’t have any allergies but I was wondering if there are any foods he doesn’t like. You know like beets, I hate beets and won’t eat them, no matter how they’re disguised.”

Chuckling a little “my son’s not a picky eater but thank you for asking.” Casey found himself drawn to this young woman and her obvious interest in getting to know his son by asking thought out questions.

“I love children and I helped my mom run a daycare in our basement when I was growing up.” She glanced around the room and Casey braced himself for the next question to be about his artwork. “You have a lovely home Mr. Bennett. Do you mind if we sit?”

Surprised that she hadn’t mentioned his artwork and a little embarrassed that he hadn’t invited her to sit, he motioned towards the sitting area “please sit make yourself at home.”

“Thank you,” she said after settling done on the couch and waiting for Casey to sit. “You mentioned that your son doesn’t have any illnesses but if he were to become ill and I have to take him to the doctor, are there any medications he’s allergic to?”

“None that I’m aware of,” Casey replied. They spent the next several minutes discussing Eddie and what he expected from her as his nanny. “Basically Ms. Matthews I want someone who will take an interest in my son and give him the attention he needs while I’m gone. At night, when I’m home I expect to care for my son myself and you are free to pursue whatever interests you have. I understand you’re into music?”

“Yes, eventually I hope to make a name for myself in the music business.”

“I hope you reach your goal,” Casey told her getting up from the chair. “I’m sorry I have to be leaving for work now. Do you have any other questions before I go?”

Smiling as she stood “yes does your son prefer being called Edward or Eddie?”

Shrugging Casey laughed “I don’t know if he has a preference yet. He answers to both.” After walking towards the door he added “just don’t call him Edwin.”

“Why would I do that?” She laughed confused.

Shaking his head Casey sighed “the last nanny kept calling him Edwin and didn’t seem to notice there was a difference.”

Laughing harder Lynn snorted “I bet I know who that was, Eleanor right? She probably was more interested in you and managing your artwork than in watching Eddie.”

“Do you know her?” Casey asked.

“You could say that,” Lynn smiled at him “she was my room-mate. When she found out I was a musician she offered to be my manager. When I refused she took offense and moved out.”

Chuckling a little Casey said “I could see her doing that.” Glancing at his watch he knew he had to leave or he’d be late for the third Monday in a row. He enjoyed talking with Lynn and how she was able to be herself. How many girls would snort while laughing? In a way he found it endearing and totally not what he would have found attractive a couple of years ago while he was in college. He had a tendency to go for the more sophisticated ladies but his luck with that left him with a son and an ex-fiance. Shaking his head he was about to close the door when Lynn’s voice stopped him.

“Mr. Bennett?” Lynn called “how do I reach you if something comes up and I have to reach you?”

Coming back inside he wrote his contact information down for her than ran out of the house. He arrived at his desk without a minute to spare but at least he wasn’t late. Sitting down he realized that this was the first time he’d come to work without the familiar worry of leaving his son. He was confident that Eddie was in good hands.

A weight was lifted from his shoulders and he sighed in relief. He got through work with a bounce in his step and a smile on his face and a mind preoccupied with a pair of pretty green eyes. Shaking his head he tried to concentrate on appraising the artwork in front of him and not on his son’s new nanny. A smile crept across his face as his mind once again drifted off.

Coming into the house he heard the unmistakable sound of his son giggling in his room. Walking to his son’s door he watched as Lynn tickled his son sending Eddie into fits of giggles. Eddie looked up and squealed “Daddy’s home.” He lifted his little arms out towards him. Lynn seeing Casey standing in the doorway walked over to him.

Taking Eddie from her, Casey snuggled him close. “So how was your day?”

“Lynn fun. She play with me,” Eddie said with a brilliant smile on his face. “Like Lynn.”

“Do you think she should stay?” Casey asked him. Nodding his head enthusiastically Eddie squealed in delight as Casey tossed him in the air. It felt good to come home from a long day at work and be able to enjoy time with his son.

After feeding Eddie his supper and settling him in his playpen Casey joined Lynn in the living room. Lynn was softly playing a guitar, the melody soft and soothing. Something Casey hadn’t heard before, tearing his eyes away, Casey went to his easel and began to paint. Inspired by the music he was listening to and the easing of the anxiety he had been carrying around with him. He had no awareness of the passage of time until Lynn asked from behind him “would you like something to eat?”

Shaking his head he tried to bring his mind back to the present but all he could do was stare dumbly at her. “I’m sorry what did you say?” he managed.

Laughing softly “I’m not much of a cook but I made a salad. There’s enough if you’d like some.”

“Um thank you,” Casey said as he began the tedious task of cleaning his brushes and putting his paints away so they wouldn’t dry out. Sitting down Casey asked “that song you were playing earlier, did you write it?”

Nodding Lynn looked down at her plate “I wrote it after my mom passed away.”

“I’m sorry,” Casey mumbled. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s ok,” Lynn told him. “She always encouraged me to go after my dreams. Without her support I doubt I would be here today.”

“Sounds like an interesting story,” Casey said smiling to encourage her to continue talking.

“Not when it’s your story. You see when I was younger I went through a rebellious period in my teens. I felt like I was going to self destruct. You know drinking and wild parties, stuff like that. I put my parents through hell but I eventually turned my life around.”

Listening Casey couldn’t help but think of his younger brother, Gene. Maybe he should have been a little more supportive instead of brushing him off, thinking his dreams were foolish. Tuning back into Lynn’s voice he heard her say.

“When my mom got sick I told her about my dream of being a musician. I remember telling her I wasn’t sure if I was strong enough to resist the temptations of the lifestyle. That maybe I should just listen to all the doubters and give up before I even tried.” Looking up with tears in her green eyes she asked “do you know what she told me?”

Shaking his Casey wished there was something he could say to comfort her.

“She told me to never quit just because it’d be easier than facing my fears.” She smiled wiping tears from her eyes. “She told me I was stronger than I gave myself credit for.”

Reaching across the table Casey took her hand in his “your mother was right.” Squeezing her hand, Casey promised himself that he would be more understanding and supportive of Gene in the future. He wondered if it was too late to tune into Sim Idol and see how Gene was faring on the show.

Previous/Next

[butteredfrogs]

🌼sim requests open!🐸

hi!! so i recently hit 2k followers and i was going to do a sim dump but instead i have decided to open up sim requests! pls send me an ask either on or off anon to request a sim with the following info:

a brief description of the sim you want! this can be as specific or as vague as you want, just a general vibe for me to go off of! (for instance you could include things like their gender, pronouns, their style/aesthetic)

whether or not they are an occult. they can either be an in game occult (i only have vampires and werewolves in game so pls bare this in mind) or a non in game occult eg fairies, elves, ect.

if you would like all outfits pls specify otherwise i will just do thier everyday! (also if you would like me to keep them cc lite pls include that as well)

public or private download (pls not all anon requests will automatically be public dl)

i will try and do your request as quickly as possible but please bare with me! i dont have a specific amount of slots open, so i'll leave them open until i feel like i have a decent amount and i'll reblog this post when i close them again! okay i think thats everything <3

[downtherabbitholewithlucy]

They ain't STRAIGHT OUTTA COMPTON.

THEY STRAIGHT OUTTA DUUUVALLLL!!!!!

[pineapplefulfillseveryneed]

Sparks tour 2023

[spotaus]

Late Night quick thing (New Age Sillies)

Bad news: That joke post about including Reset + Orchid is definitely not canon. (I legit got sad thinking about Reset being in a universe where Orchid isn't- because their stories are so so intertwined- but Nightmare 100% would NOT risk the whole twins exploding Error's soul thing.)

Good news: This means I COULD include Kane (Reset's older brother who usually dies in timelines where Reset is born) and use it to develope his character a bit more! Also! Perhaps a Blue × Dream kiddo is finally in the stars for me to design?

[tenwhiteandalusians]

pertaining to the idea of tenax’s band of strays i do think it’s touching that the kids are the ones who saved him and waited outside the door to make sure he’s okay. for all tenax claims to be harsh and cruel it’s a fine indicator of his character that the kids won’t rest without him and are there every time he’s in danger.

[rosicheeks]

omg i’m so late but uh the why i follow you ask: gonna be honest it was definitely a thirst follow lol i think you’re super hot and the way you talk about horny stuff is cute and we share a lot of kinks, but also like you’re a cool and fun person who deserves good things, and i just really enjoy following both for horny reasons and to keep up with what you have going on bc it really is just nice to see that you’re still there? if that makes any sense lol anyway yeah 😘💖

-🌸