#it was true i am the milk maker

[leossmoonn]

snow day | mike schmidt

summary - abby has a snow day and spends it with you and mike

warnings / includes - not edited

————

“hey, abs,” mike whispers, shaking her away. she groans and pushes his hand away. “i don’t want to go to school.”

mike glances at you, seeing the excited smile on your face. “you don’t have to, abby.”

she opens one eye. “why?” “your school called and cancelled school. you have a snow day!” you exclaim.

abby sits up in bed, a big smile on her face. “we can build a fort and a snowman!”

“you got great ideas, babe,” you grin at her. “do you want to sleep in some more or are you hungry?”

“i’m hungry,” abby says. “can i have waffles with chocolate chips?”

“you sure can. get to work, chef,” you turn to mike. he chuckles softly. “i need my sous chef.”

“alright. you need any help getting ready?” you ask abby. “no,” she says, hopping out of bed and heading to her closet.

“okay. call us if you need anything. we’ll be in the kitchen.”

you and mike make your way to the kitchen, grabbing a box of pre-made pancake mix and putting some milk and eggs into it. mike’s hands rest on your waist, his chin sitting on your shoulder as you both wait for the batter to cook. you lean into his chest, enjoying the warmth radiating from him. it’s so cold in his house during winter time since he tries to cut down on the electric bills, but you don’t mind. you had him as a portable blanket and he doesn’t mind. it’s an excuse for him to be closer to you.

“you sure you can take work off today?” you ask. “yeah,” mike nods. “even if i couldn’t, i am not driving in that mess.”

you both look out the window. you got eight inches of snow. you didn’t even want to try and walk in it, much else drive.

“well, i’m glad we can take the day off.” you spin yourself around, leaning your back against the counter. mike smiles, “me, too. it’s well-deserved for both of us.” he leans in, pulling your lips in a slow kiss. you sigh into him, your eyes fluttering shut like you’re in a movie. his kisses always make your brain feel numb and body tingly.

little footsteps pad behind two. mike is quick to pull away, positioning himself to where he’s beside you, his hand resting on the small of your back.

“did you out chocolate chips in the waffles?” abby asks. “yes, ma’am,” you answer.

she sits down at the table, placing her crayons and blank pieces of paper in front of her. after the whole freddy’s fiasco, she’s stopped drawing those kids and now has started drawing her friends from school and her teachers. she’s been very into drawing you and mike, as well as your cat that you and mike are 99% sure she’s plotting to steal.

“you should show that drawing to cornelius, abby. he’ll probably be confused that there’s two of them,” you remark.

“or you can bring him here and we can keep him,” abby says.

you can’t help but snort at her request. “maybe if mike invites me to move in.”

mike rolls his eyes, flipping the waffle maker and taking the waffle out. “you basically already live here. your cat probably thinks you’ve abandoned him.”

“not true. i haven’t stayed a night here in a couple weeks.”

“mmm, yeah. what’s up with that?”

“been busy. you miss me or something?” you grab some plates and silverware, starting to set up the table.

“maybe,” he says. you glance at him, catching the coy smile playing on his face.

“after breakfast can we make a snowman ?” abby asks.

“sure,” you nod. “it’s cold, abby,” mike says.

“there’s nothing else to do here. and i want to build the fort after we go outside.”

“that’s not a bad idea,” you look at mike. “i’ll look if we have a carrot for the nose.

abby eyes light up and mike shoot you a glare. you pat his back gingerly, grabbing some napkins and cups.

“you have to put on a sweatshirt and coat, okay? and a hat and gloves,” mike says. abby let’s our a big sigh. “fine,” she says, knowing it’s part of the seam.

abby gobbles down a waffle and a half before she pops up out of her seat like a jack-in-the-box, running to her room and putting on all her warm clothes. she throws on a beanie and grabs a scarf, having you help her tuck it into her coat.

“hurry up, guys! the snow will melt!” abby exclaims, running to the door.

“hey, hey, hey,” mike stand up. “i’ll get my coat on so at least one of us is outside with you.” he goes into hips room and grabs his winter coat and some boots.

“here, you need this.” you slip a black beanie onto his head. “i’ll be fine.”

“you made abby bundle up, so you need to, too,” you say. “fine. don’t worry about the dishes, i’ll clean them up after this.” mike kisses you on the cheek before going outside.

you at least put the dishes in the sink before getting yourself ready to go outside. you close the door behind you, seeing the bottom hall of the snowman already standing.

“that was fast,” you say. “abby was very enthusiastic. now she’s a little tired i think,” mike says.

“it’s hard to roll snowballs, even for me. they always fall apart when i do it,” you sigh.

“ah, finally something you’re not good at,” mike grins at you. you roll your eyes and punch his shoulder, a smile breaking the straight line on your lips. “i’m pretty good at this.” you say as you bend down and pick up a handful of snow, molding it into a small hall and throwing it right at mike’s face.

“hey, i’m right next to you! that not fair!”

you give him a wink, walking over to abby to help her roll a snowball. you’re almost done when you feel snow it the back of your neck. you gasp and look up, seeing mike’s hands in his pockets.

“what?” he asks, a telling smile on his face. “abby schmidt, would you like to form an alliance with me in a snowball fight against your brother?” you turn to her as you help her put the body of the snowman on.

“yes, duh!” she giggles. “looks like you’re alone, micheal,” you look at him, putting your arm around abby.

he shrugs, making another snowball. “i’m not worried.” he hits you in the face like you did to him.

“looks like we have a war on our hands,” you remark.

you and abby end up using half of the snowman as your shield. mike is careful not to knock down the snow balls, but he has impeccable aim from playing little league, so it’s no sweat for him. abby is your snowball supplier. her little hands mold them quickly, handing them to you one after the other as you aim them at mike’s face and chest.

“you getting cold with all the snow in your clothes, schmidt?” you ask.

“nope. i’m pretty warm, which means you suck at this.” he throws a snow ball at you, hitting your shoulder. the snow fans across your neck, hitting a sliver of skin where your scarf doesn’t cover.

“we need to make a huge snowball,” you whisper to abby. “on it,” she nods excitedly. she’s already lined up 10 snowballs for you to use in the meantime.

“no conspiring secretly!” mike says. “we can do what we want!” you laugh, throwing another snowball, throwing it with too much force to where it lands behind him.

mike ends up using a tree as his shield. even with it’s small branches, you find it more difficult. you look down at abby, seeing a snowball half the size of your snowman.

“good job, babe,” you pat her back. “after this can i have some hot chocolate?” abby asks.

“of course. we can celebrate with it,” you grin. you look back at mike who aims a snowball at your head, knocking your beanie off. “oh, it is on.”

you and abby stand up, carrying the big ball of snow. it’s heavier than you thought it would be, but you’re hopefully that this will work.

“woah.” mike’s jaw drops. “this is really not fair. i don’t have a teammate to do that with!”

“sucks to suck i guess,” you laugh. you and abby count down and throw the snowball at mike, causing him to tumble over. it covers most of his body, his face covered in snow now. “we won!” you exclaim, high-fiving abby.

“alright, nice play guys. next time i’ll get you,” he says, dusting himself off.

“we’ll see about that,” you grin.

you three make the rest of the snowman, using a carrot for his nose and blueberries for his eyes and smile. you grab your scarf and wrap it around his neck, mike grabbing a baseball hat from his closet and putting it on the snowman’s head.

“very nice,” mike remarks. “let’s go inside. i’m so cold,” abby says, running to the door.

“yeah, i’m going to take a shower,” mike says as you all step inside.

“me too,” abby says.

you and mike let abby shower first. mike showers after her and you make all of you hot chocolate and bake some cookies in the shape of christmas cutters.

you take a quick shower after mike, more so to warm you up than anything. you pull on one of mike’s sweaters and some pj pants. when you exit the bedroom, you find abby and mike building a fort over the tv.

“good idea, guys,” you say, grabbing your mug and sipping some hot cocoa.

“can we watch a movie?” abby asks. “of course,” you nod.

abby puts on a christmas movie, laying on her stomach in front of you two. mike is laying against the bottom of the couch with you in his arms.

“mm, i’m so sleepy,” you yawn, snuggling up to his chest. ���that snowball fight wear you down?” mike asks.

“unfortunately, yes. i’m surprised you’re not snoring already.”

“i do not snore.”

“oh, yes you do.”

“well, you sing in your sleep.”

“you’re making that up,” you laugh. he shakes his head. “the other night you were singing ‘crazy train’ or something.”

“that is…” you breathe out, “a lie.”

“i’ll record you next time, how about that?”

“okay. prepare to be wrong.”

he chuckles and kisses your forehead, hugging you tighter. “i love you.”

you hum and smile, reaching up and kissing his lips. “i love you more.”

————

taglist

@celestbarnes

[selfcare-with-senshi]

How to care for your body - Hydration

The five fundaments of proper self care are eating enough food, drinking enough water, getting enough restful sleep, exercising, and your personal hygiene. If even one of these fundaments is out of balance for a while, you will feel unwell. That's why most times when you have a headache, feel exhausted or just unhappy, the first questions include whether you ate, drank or slept recently, when the last time you went outside was, and when you took your last shower.

It's annoying to hear, especially when you struggle with your mental health. But sadly, it's very important and very true - when you make a change in these habits, you will notice a difference in your wellbeing, even if it's small at first.

Most people struggle with consistently keeping these fundaments covered, so don't worry, you're not alone if you feel like it's a lot.

Let's take it step by step. And step one should always be hydration.

Start with drinking enough. Always, always start with drinking enough. Water is life. Without water, there is no life. Even our bodies are mostly water. So it only makes sense we need it the most out of the fundaments of self care.

The human body needs about 2 to 3 liters of water a day. The heavier the body, the more exercise you get and the more you sweat, the more water you require. If drinking water by itself is difficult for you, there are lots of ways to make it more appealing for you. I'll be listing some useful examples below:

Set an alarm every hour to remind you to drink a 250 ml glass of water. If you wake up at 8 AM for example, you'll have 2 liters by 4 PM, and 3 liters by 8 PM.

Use small drinking glasses, or cups you enjoy drinking out of in general. I personally find it easier and more appealing to fill a 80 ml glass three times in a row than to drink from a bigger glass.

Make it fun. I pretend I'm taking shots from my 80 ml glass for example. Or I pretend I'm a flower on the verge of drying out and I finally receive much needed rain. It doesn't matter if it's silly, as long as it helps you stay hydrated.

If you're like me and water makes you nauseous or gives you an icky feeling, I suggest trying healthy additions like water syrups, waterdrop microdrink cubes, making iced tea or fruit juice yourself, or if you crave the bubbles of a soda, I can only recommend purchasing a soda maker. You can regulate the amount of bubbles you want yourself - AND you can add syrup after if you want, too!

Other alternatives to get more water into your body include (but aren't limited to) sucking on ice cubes or eating crushed ice for example. Foods like watermelon, strawberries, cucumbers or milk also help with keeping you hydrated.

Keep a water diary or a log, if it helps you. Personally I feel stressed out by these things, but if it's helpful for you to write it down whenever you drank something, go ahead! I saw there are also apps designed like games that help you drink enough, like every time you drink water and type it in, a plant grows a little more... it's very cute, but like I said, stressful for me personally.

If you have any more ideas or questions, feel free to comment, reblog, or send me an ask :)

Hydration can be very difficult, especially when you're ill, busy, or dealing with sensory issues. If you can manage to hydrate well, your body will thank you. You're at a lower risk for UTIs, your body has an easier time flushing out toxins and illnesses, your skin will become clearer, maintaining your weight will be easier too... it has lots and lots of positive effects.

You can do it! ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧

[thebusylilbee]

THE JEWS OF IRAQ

by Naeim Giladi

Courtesy The Link, Volume 31, Issue 2, April-May 1998

I write this article for the same reason I wrote my book: to tell the American people, and especially American Jews, that Jews from Islamic lands did not emigrate willingly to Israel; that, to force them to leave, Jews killed Jews; and that, to buy time to confiscate ever more Arab lands, Jews on numerous occasions rejected genuine peace initiatives from their Arab neighbors. I write about what the first prime minister of Israel called "cruel Zionism." I write about it because I was part of it.

Of course I thought I knew it all back then. I was young, idealistic, and more than willing to put my life at risk for my convictions. It was 1947 and I wasn't quite 18 when the Iraqi authorities caught me for smuggling young Iraqi Jews like myself out of Iraq, into Iran, and then on to the Promised Land of the soon-to-be established Israel.

I was an Iraqi Jew in the Zionist underground. My Iraqi jailers did everything they could to extract the names of my co-conspirators. Fifty years later, pain still throbs in my right toe-a reminder of the day my captors used pliers to remove my toenails. On another occasion, they hauled me to the flat roof of the prison, stripped me bare on a frigid January day, then threw a bucket of cold water over me. I was left there, chained to the railing, for hours. But I never once considered giving them the information they wanted. I was a true believer.

My preoccupation during what I refer to as my "two years in hell" was with survival and escape. I had no interest then in the broad sweep of Jewish history in Iraq even though my family had been part of it right from the beginning. We were originally Haroons, a large and important family of the "Babylonian Diaspora." My ancestors had settled in Iraq more than 2,600 years ago-600 years before Christianity, and 1,200 years before Islam. I am descended from Jews who built the tomb of Yehezkel, a Jewish prophet of pre-biblical times. My town, where I was born in 1929, is Hillah, not far from the ancient site of Babylon.

The original Jews found Babylon, with its nourishing Tigris and Euphrates rivers, to be truly a land of milk, honey, abundance-and opportunity. Although Jews, like other minorities in what became Iraq, experienced periods of oppression and discrimination depending on the rulers of the period, their general trajectory over two and one-half millennia was upward. Under the late Ottoman rule, for example, Jewish social and religious institutions, schools, and medical facilities flourished without outside interference, and Jews were prominent in government and business.

As I sat there in my cell, unaware that a death sentence soon would be handed down against me, I could not have recounted any personal grievances that my family members would have lodged against the government or the Muslim majority. Our family had been treated well and had prospered, first as farmers with some 50,000 acres devoted to rice, dates and Arab horses. Then, with the Ottomans, we bought and purified gold that was shipped to Istanbul and turned into coinage. The Turks were responsible in fact for changing our name to reflect our occupation-we became Khalaschi, meaning "Makers of Pure."

I did not volunteer the information to my father that I had joined the Zionist underground. He found out several months before I was arrested when he saw me writing Hebrew and using words and expressions unfamiliar to him. He was even more surprised to learn that, yes, I had decided I would soon move to Israel myself. He was scornful. "You'll come back with your tail between your legs," he predicted.

About 125,000 Jews left Iraq for Israel in the late 1940s and into 1952, most because they had been lied to and put into a panic by what I came to learn were Zionist bombs. But my mother and father were among the 6,000 who did not go to Israel. Although physically I never did return to Iraq-that bridge had been burned in any event-my heart has made the journey there many, many times. My father had it right.

[...]

[irradiate-space]

Builders' Tea

for reasons, I occasionally receive updates from an Englishman who is restoring a Scottish castle:

Admonition the Fifty-first: A Cup of Tea is Essential to Keep the Team Happy

If you have self-built or self-restored or even commissioned any significant building work here in the UK, you will know the importance of builders’ tea (BT). Not only that everyone on site drinks at least a dozen cups a day, but that you have to make a good mug to ensure workforce morale.

It helps too if you smoke.

Or did.

Or at least can provide matches.

Smoking or possibly vaping (though I have no experience of the latter) has been an integral part of the tea taste experience for years and shouldn’t be discounted lightly in the building site experience of tea drinking. The cloying sweetness of a good BT can be cut through by a drag of Golden Virginia or similar. Prefabs are, in my view, too polluted with additives – like salt petre – oh – and filter. This is not to say a fag is necessary, or even desirable, its just that for historical purposes, one needs to see that a cigarette until recently has been a virtually compulsory condiment.

A big Newfoundland is helpful too – not as a condiment obviously, but to finish discarded mugs left on the floor, ensuring that next tea-break is presented with a “sparkling” set of crockery.

The builders’ tea which would achieve the equivalent of three Michelin stars for the maker takes practice and an ability to distinguish in microseconds between multiple tea shaded pantones as well as the respective mash- and sledge- hammers of sweetness.

Critical BT elements are:

One: a big mug. Preferably with a sweary joke on the outside, or for a fuller flavour, inside on the bottom as well. It needs to be a big receptacle for the purposes of ensuring adequate hydration in the squad member, but also to retain tea-heat to the bottom of the vessel – this is especially important for the self-styled raconteur of the group, who will, it is true, spend more time gassing than drinking, smoking, laughing or farting, but will still insist on a properly hot cup of char to the end of the mug and / or break. Two: boiling water. Not for the purposes of flavour as refined tea-baggers would have it, but so the tea remains hot for as long as possible, particularly after the violent pressing – (3) below – and multiple silver spoons – (4) below. Three: Violent pressing (VP). For a deep mahogany colour, despite full-fat milk and below-mentioned epic quantities of refined Tate&Lyle. VP is achieved with plenty of greased elbow and an over-large teaspoon (otherwise the already heroic number of four teaspoons of sugar becomes a teeth-crackingly legendary seven). The deep colour of a good builders’ tea will visually presage the hot, sweet assault when you drink it. Four: 1 bag of Tate&Lyle Silver Spoon a day. To sweeten and render the correct stiff tea-texture, in which teaspoon stands momentarily. The legend of the permanently upright utensil is an overstatement. What you need to see as you lift your hand from the spoon is a momentary hesitation, and then a smooth fall in an arc centred on the tip of the spoon sitting on the bottom of the mug. If either the spoon tip slips to the side of the mug or, the fall is as sudden as you’d expect in water or, if the jangle of the spoon hitting the side of the mug speaks to a jostling, and a multiple impact, and therefore a lack of meniscal tension in the liquid – well, then, I am afraid you will have failed.

Now you might ask, what of the actual ingredients? Well, bags are essential. You will not have time to muck about with loose tea, no matter how flavourful and subtle. As you will have gathered, subtlety will be entirely wasted. The jury is still out on round, square or triangles, and I think, is influenced by the fact that various brands have different technologies. For me its about the blend … And a good blend is essential. Yorkshire. Scottish. Cheap is ideal of course because the more dusting included with leaves the thicker the texture. Milk is important. Just on the turn can invoke disgust or, depending on the audience, reminiscence about growing up. Full fat is better – again thicker. Skimmed works, but its thinness mitigates against the overall effect. No, the lactal fizz behind your back teeth of a full fat or even, gold top, as lactose and sucrose interact is an essential part of the experience – although the richness of the gold top might just be too luxurious. Biscuits are the compulsory condiment. We began with variety boxes, roadtested all-comers then settled on Rich Tea, Gingernuts and Bourbons. The deciding factor was the performance of each having been dipped. All other things being equal, you are now ready to recruit your team and begin the restoration – in our case, the house, rather than the castle.

Isn't he wonderful?

[abbatoirablaze]

The Red In God's Ledger, God The Bounty Hunter

Word Count:  619

He sat there. 

His leg nervously bouncing. 

He’d hoped…no prayed that you would come to your senses and that all of his dreams would come true. That at the last second you would run out of that church and come begging him to run away with you into the sunset. 

He would use his abilities to make sure that the both of you disappeared.  That you would never have to see anyone again that you didn’t want to.

But you didn’t.

“If anyone should have a reason why these two should not join in holy matrimony, speak now or forever hold your peace!”

He could think of a few reasons. 

“GABRIEL!” she moaned in the throes of passion as the Southern gentleman bucked his hips once more, “Gabriel!  Oh god.  I love you!”

“Say it again, baby!” he begged, his lips peppering kisses along the column of her throat while his cum coated her walls.  He groaned as her core fluttered wildly around him, milking him.

“Gabriel….Gabriel Oliver Delacroix”

His hands gripped her so tenderly as he emptied his balls into her.  His lips ghosting over her skin as she wrapped her legs around his waist, her heels digging into the firm flesh of his ass.  Her hips rolled when he shifted, and she whimpered, begging him not to part from her.

“D-Don’t leave…”

“Don’t marry him!” he growled out, begging her one last time, “Don’t do this, baby…we-we can run away together.  We can start over.  No one will ever be able to find us.  We-”

“I can’t-“ she sobbed against his chest, “I-I can’t leave my family!”

His heart broke as he forced himself to remain quiet.  He stood and slid down the side of the church without so much as a word as the rest of the service continued. 

He didn’t know why he showed up to the church. 

It made his stomach twist just thinking about it.

But he still showed up every winter.

He was nearly to the doors when the first tear fell down his cheek. 

“GABRIEL WAIT!”

He turned, half-hoping that the woman he loved would be running towards him. 

But she wasn’t there. 

The church was empty aside from a few parishioners who were there for the mid-week mass.  Just as it had been every time he came back to his hometown in the bayou of Louisiana in the middle of December. 

His jaw clenched as he thought about it. 

How the memories came rushing back.

How she had married that asshole that day.

And six months later he’d put her pregnant corpse into the ground when he found out that her ex was the one that knocked her up. 

His jaw ticked as everything flooded back. 

And then he smiled, thinking about how he’d gotten his revenge. 

“FUCK OFF Gabe!” her husband screamed at him as he spat on the floor, “ain’t no one can judge me but one.  And I’m sure god was alright with me putting that lyin’, cheatin’ whore in the ground.”

“We all pay for our sins, Dave!”

“Only one man can judge me, Gabe and you ain’t him.”

“Actually I am,” he muttered, turning back to the man he’d been torturing for the past few hours.  In his hand, he held his revolver, pointing it towards the man’s head, “time to meet your maker pal…”

“You ain’t god, you piece of shit.  You-“

But the man’s words fell flat when Gabriel pulled the trigger, the last shred of his humanity dying with his beloved’s murderer.  He pulled the gun back and blew away the smoke from the old gun, before holstering it once more, “actually, Dave…I am…and you ain’t s’posed to be here no more.”

[owlwithascarf]

After a terrible dream of being laughed at and dumped by a gallon of milk, Tina woke up

...

...

...

Tina woke up and viewed her room that was blurry because she didn't put her glasses on and felt her nightstand and hair to see if she was awake or asleep in the terrifying nightmare

Tina:I guess it was a dream... If I didn't wait a bit longer for grabbing my glasses, I wouldn't get damped with milk by that *muttering a bit loudly* Oh hopefully no one heard me mutter-

She then tried to sleep but couldn't, not by her restless leg syndrome but because she kept thinking about the accident

Saturday morning 7:00 AM

Tina then changed out of her usual nightdress to her usual attire

Tina:What is this weird damp spot? It's not like it rained in here right? *Slight chuckle*

Tina then picked up her shirt that was still damp from milk and furiously flung the shirt to the other side of the room

Tina:Oh I just realized I shouldn't done that... But its- oh wait it is my fault

Linda:Tina! Breakfast sweetie!

Tina:Just a second!

After leaving her room, Louise whispered to Tina about yesterday

Louise:Tina are you still mad at-

Tina then putted her finger on Louise's lips and slightly got embarrassed then did her usual monotone groan sound

Gene:Tina?

Bob:Uhh... Tina?

Linda:Kids go check on your sister, Your father and I have to open the restaurant. Try to comfort your sister. Tina you can have mopey lopey time on the couch

Gene:Uhh ok *He said in a confused tone before helping his sister getting up*

Louise:Come on get that confused tone out of your system, I like sad Tina!

Tina continued to groan and fell but didn't say the usual "I'm ok!" And replaced it with a "I'm not ok..."

Louise:Oookay now I'm scared about this

After putting the sad ragdoll on the couch they decided to put her usual happy mood makers

Several minutes pass by

Linda:Bob what do you think about Tina

Bob:Well she's a nice daught-

Linda:Not about that part, The part where she moaned at breakfast

Bob:Well I don't know, I hope the kids are helping her and not making her situation worse

Linda:That's true but I know how Louise is, She's just a little...evil

Back at the apartment

Louise:Damn it! We already tried everything, We tried getting one of her horses and hormonal teenagery stuff!

Gene:Wait what about *whispering*

Louise:How could I forget that stuff!

Gene and Louise grabbed all the Jimmy Jr or Jimmy Jr related stuff and shoved it all at Tina's face

Tina then furiously kicked all of it before Louise tightly locked her legs and slapped her out of it

Gene: *in a scared tone* Uhhh Tina I think you should relax a bit

Louise then agreed with Gene about being scared about Tina being furious at Jimmy Jr

Gene tried comforting her while Louise tried brushing her hair to her usual bangs and short hair

Gene carefully tried to get something Jimmy Jr related and showed it to her face

Tina then punched it quickly that the it ripped that paralyzed Gene by fear for a few seconds

Louise then held Tina down by the arms and the legs...with paper

Gene:Louise I'm still scared about Tina ripping this Jimmy Jr thing

Tina:Uhh guys can you let me go now?

Louise:Uhh ok...Go with mom and dad with the slop shop, I think I can hold her down

Tina:Guys, Seriously my...arms are uncomfortable

Louise:Up bup bup bup. I'm not falling for it

Louise then grabbed something out of the Jimmy Jr pile and showed it to her

Louise then grabbed one of his gym socks while covering her nose

Tina tried not going into a furious rage at it to prove Louise that she's no longer mad at Jimmy Jr

Louise:Finally your system is under control, Come on,now help me put your hormonal teenagery weirdo obsession with Jimmy Jr

Tina: Alright...

After finishing cleaning the dirty pile they went down to the restaurant

Linda:Tina! Sweetie! Are you alright? Are you hungry?

Tina:No, but-

Louise:Why did your puberty operation crash when I whispered about yesterday

Yesterday... Yesterday...Yesterday...

*Flashback*

Jimmy Jr:Oh sorry...

*Distinct laughing*

*Flashback over*

Tina:Nooooo! *Hyperventilates*

*Tina then rapidly smacked all the white stuff in the restaurant because the color reminded her of milk*

Bob:Oh my god!

Gene:Ahhh we're under attack!

Linda then grabbed her arms and rotated her to her face

Linda:Tina! Are you ok?

Louise:I'm not cleaning these napkins. The puberty tornado did this mess!

Gene:Yeah!

*The restaurant is now closed and they all headed up for dinner*

Tina then sighed

Gene: *whispering to Louise* Sad bones at 3 o clock!

Louise: *whispering* Ok!

Tina stilled was sad and a bit embarrassed about the incident

Louise: *clears throat* Ahem brother, isn't our sister gorgeous and beautiful?

Gene:Oh umm yeah, And doesn't she have s good sense of fashion?

Tina:I'm going to bed

Linda:You blew it

Bob:Good effort right?

Louise:Ehh...

Gene:Hey! At least I noticed it!

Bob;Anyways I think we should go to bed now

Saturday was a disaster for Louise and Gene

Monday morning

Linda:Any effort kids?

Gene:Nope

*Fluttering could be heard in Tina's room*

Bob:What the?

Louise:Is there a bird in Tina's room?

Gene:Or is she a bird?

Linda:Kids go check on her

Louise:When will this Tina-strophe be over!?

Bob:Kids! Now, check on your sister

Louise:Ughh! Alright we'll go!

Gene carefully opened the door a bit to see what was happening

*Tina was throwing her erotic friend fan fictions all over the room*

Gene and Louise agreed to hold her down again for the 3rd time in a row

Tina:Uhhhh! Noooo! He deserves this!

Louise furiously grabbed Tina's shirt collar

Louise:Just let it go with this Jimmy Jr catastrophe!

Tina: *scared out of her mind* Ow my throat... But its-

Louise slapped Tina's face as hard as she could that it left a red mark on her cheek

Tina:Ow!

Gene:Look just go with Jimmy Jr and sort this out!

*At school*

Louise:Oh Tina look! Jimmy Jr is over at his locker with his butt and he's looking quite handsome for a 14 yr boy!

Louise:Go T- uhh Tina? Tina?! Tina belcher?

Gene:And the girl is long gone

Jimmy Jr:Weres your sister guys?

Louise:I don't know

Jimmy Jr:I need your help to make a apology musoem for Tina

Gene:Ok!

Louise:But it's gonna cost ya big time!

Jimmy Jr:Ughhh nevermind

Louise:You gotta get ready Romeo, You want your Juliet? Well it's gonna cost you!

Jimmy:Ughhhh fine you win! I'll give you 25 bucks if you help me

Louise:Uhh no 25 grand

Jimmy Jr:50!

Louise:Grand?

Jimmy Jr:50 bucks...

Louise:Sold, Alright we will root through our sister's room and give you the details

Gene:If we can stomach it

Jimmy Jr:Well I also gonna give you a hand, I really want Tina back

Gene:Perfect

*At the restaurant*

Bob:Hey ki-

Gene:Mom and dad you guys are doing a great job, Mind if we pop upstairs? Yes ok, bye!

Linda:What?

*At Tina's room*

Louise: *signals Jimmy Jr who was in the alley waiting for the signal*

Jimmy Jr:Alright here I am, So...

Louise:Uhh don't read these erotic friend fan fiction, if you could stomach all the gross teenage hormonal stuff

Jimmy Jr:Yeah right... *Grabs a friend fan fiction*

"Sexy unstoppable"?

"Well Tina, We stopped the train with dangerous cargo"

"Yeah we did"

"They both touched each other's lips and hips and had jumped into the future where they had dozens of dozens kids"

Jimmy Jr:Oh god...I think I might be sick from reading it...

Gene:Yeah that's a advanced skill that someone needs to achieve

Jimmy Jr:So I guess I have to show my butt to her and she'll love me again?

Louise:Oh and she loves horses and zombies that's it! Now pay the price lover boy

Jimmy Jr:Here...

Louise:I love 50 dollar bill smell...

Gene:Yay I'm rich!

Jimmy Jr:Good thing that didn't make a dent at my saved money

*Tuesday, 12:46 PM*

Jimmy Jr:Hey Tina...

Tina would try to ignore him and walk away

*Jimmy Jr puts attention to his butt*

Tina:Butts...

Jimmy Jr:Oh umm... Horses are cool and so are zombies! Zombies are cool things because their second chances are life and Horses have cool hair in their heads and tails! Ummm, It's not my best work but-

Tina rapidly locks him in a tight hug and kiss

Tina:I forgive you Jimmy Jr...

Jimmy Jr:I was trying to show Zeke a cool thing that's why I accidently spilled milk all over y-

Tina would put her finger on his lip and resumed kissing him

Gene:I knew it would work out...

Louise:There goes our girl, kissing boys, butts, zombies and horses...

Gene:What can we do with 50 bucks?

GENES THE BEST SIBLING EVER, BYEEE SCRAM GO ON GET (No this wasn't a tinimmyweek fan fiction)

Tags:Bobs burgers, Bobsburgers, Bobs_burgers (Yes there are multiple other tags than this one)

[smollobsession]

25.3.

I'm 40. damn bro.

I finished Mark's book about not giving a fuck and it was really good.

there was a part about death that i found most intriguing, saying that if death is inevitable you might as well live until it comes. which is true and something i've been struggling with since my mom died.

Idk now if I said it in the last post but I also finished Dan's book and it was so helpful, I really wish I could force my teens to read it. (lovingly)

i'm now listening to "because internet" which is a fun linguistic study of internet language.

today i finally made crepes on the crepe maker E gave me ages ago. depression had a hold on me so i couldn't try it for ages but finally i'm there! i need to buy milk and mineral water for good pancakes but the experiment was a success!

in pogo news, I did groudon and kyogre raids and ... got nothing special :D but raiding was fun :D annoying tho that it's obvious you just can't have certain pokemon on certain levels. i played with my secondary, much lower account, and it just wouldn't let me catch groudon, even tho i won 3 raids for it. boo.

This weekend was Intense.

On friday i had my korean lesson and then met up with F for Zone of Interest. It was a great movie, I was immersed in it to the point that I kinda forgot it wasn't present. I also couldn't help but draw parallels to gaza but apparently I'm not allowed to talk about that.

Satuday was raid day and then Sunday I went to the protest. This time I got a flag and I made it all the way to the end of the protest! (minus the dancing, i went home for that :D ) it was ok despite my horrific anxiety making my back hurt and some details I didn't like (a guy spilled a bag of flour to prove some point but like... why are you spilling food while pointing out people are staving pls.) it was quite interesting how I spent most of the day today trying to see myself in pics and vids of the protest and only found ONE pic. soothes my anxiety a little, knowing i'm invisible :D

i've been following exercises from here and i've been increasing the number and length, i'm pleased! My flat is currently fairly clean and things are mostly in their place. yay mental health? and on the note of mental health i'm working on my fic again slowly too.

I did end up buying all the currently published Mo Dao Zu Shi comics :D which is 5 :D oh well! I'm also going to get a in person local Korean teacher. It'll cost a bit but it's fine I hope. Meanwhile I tested spotify and i don't like it. the organization is sadly a mess. the main feature i miss is the ability to see all songs by an artist. without that, their whole app is useless to me. I watched cooking crush and it's a really good show, I recommend it to all my friends now :D even tho the asian parent thing... it's not for me. i'm too chill toward my family even for my culture.

I got tickets for a musical in april, which i'll see with a student. (and another student is in the musical!)

had some good talks with my therapist, mainly about whether or not i care about being fat. i combined this with a chapter from mark's book, and it's quite simple i think. do i care? somewhat. certainly some mobility is not as it should be and i def want to fix that part. but a lot of my feelings about my own body are from outside. and he talks about how wanting to be something isn't the same as wanting to do the work for it, and that's basically it. would i like to be skinny? sure. am i willing to do the work for it? ... not? really? at least not now.

anyway exams are approaching, the end of this career is approaching. i'm chewing on that but so far i haven't reached anything specific. i need to write an email to the company i'm gonna ask for help, so this is my reminder to do that tomorrow :D

happy skz day :D my babies are 6! <3

[cake-crumbs]

😍 Your boba dice are so cute. Can I ask how you got the milk swirl effect? I've had a similar idea for a set of latte dice but when I try making resin latte art, it always sinks to the bottom on me.

The unfun but true answer is: trial and error

How to overcome sinking issues depends entirely on the type of resin you are using, as well as the environment you're casting in. Things like pre-warming your resin and your moulds, and waiting until honey stage will help almost universally. But you should still run trials with your specific resin. Especially if you're colouring with white alcohol ink as it loves to sink.

When I was having sinking issues (with mica for me) I ran trials with cabochon moulds. I mixed the resin and poured it at 10 minute intervals. And when I still wasn't getting results I was happy with after an hour of pot time, I switched resin brands until I found one that worked for me.

Some makers will rotate their moulds at half hour intervals to combat sinking. I've honestly never done it. Once that shit is in the pressure pot I am walking away and not looking at it again until it's cured. But other makers do swear by it.

Best of luck with your pours!

[swagpaperuniversitymoney]

http://dlvr.it/SwkF7Y

[dragonscalie]

Sometimes I really really wish there was commentary videos on niche subjects only I know a lot about like dsaf and utmv for me to watch again and again while writing and playing games

[ren-therose]

Mornings Like These

Dad!Peter Parker X Mom!Reader

Summary: Peter and you are parents, raising your kids out of your home and the rebuilt Avengers Headquarters. Needless to say, your kids came with some...unique quirks.

WC: 1.3k words

Warning: Minor FATWS spoiler, Mentions sex, but mostly just cute kids and fluffy parent content

A/N: So, I am a nanny, if you can't tell by my depth of detail. The family I currently am working for has a baby and a elementary kid, and they are both SUPER CRAZY. So much energy, so much love, and a little mischief. The baby is crazy strong and a busy bee, while the brother is non-stop moving. I love my kids so much, and they were my inspiration for this.

Big, chocolate eyes were looking up as you, while you wiggle your fingers. Two small hands reached out to your index fingers, gripping on tightly as you smiled down at the baby laying below you. He was wearing a red Spider-man onesie, no doubt one of many your team had gifted you. You probably had at least 12 Spider-man related onesies, but you didn't mind. Benji held quite a resemblance to his father. His hair was a little lighter, but his curls were quite prominent on the back of his head. His eyes, so big and warm, reminded you so much of your husbands, the way his lashes would flutter when he sleeps.

But the thing that he really resembled was how strong this baby was. A lot of people don't realize how strong babies are, ultimately underestimating them. You were right not underestimate his strength, except he is no ordinary baby. As he laid on his changing table, gripping your finger, the two of you faced off before the daily struggle you would both face.

It started with poking him all over, getting him to relax. He loved it when you played with his feet, nibbling all over his toes and up to his chucky thighs. You would blow on his tummy, making him laugh and grab your hair. When you were loose from his grip, you would then carefully unsnap his onesie, trying to be discreet with your actual intention. He continued to wiggle his way out, which ultimately helped in your favor. Now was the difficult, free of his restraints, he started rolling around, not unlike an alligator, as he attempted to make his escape. When you turned to grab a new diaper, he made his move, practically launching himself off the table. Quick reflexes wasn't your superpower, in fact, you didn't even have one. Your dad thought it was funny calling himself a mechanic, but you soon inherited his title. But when you became a parent, some type of spider-sense developed in you too, and you became even more inept with catching babies and hurtling objects.

Speaking of spidey-senses, Peter suddenly appeared in the doorway, his own brown curls slightly matted to his face, as though he had just been running.

"Did you catch him?" he panted, looking frantically for the baby. You turned around, revealing that the baby was holding onto your arm like a sloth. He was smiling like he had just succeeded in a heist, which in a way, he did- he stole our hearts (cheesy but true). Peter laughed as he walked over to the dangling baby, grabbing him and the diaper from your hands. "I am so sorry, I was trying to get the spider monkey off the walls and ready for daycare." He glanced back at you to see your response. You quirked your brow up, leaning your head to the side. "Dressed?"

Peter turned back to Benji, pulling his onesie back on the happy baby and holding him out to you. "No, but I got this one changed!"

You groaned, wishing that Peter wouldn't always be so sweet on the kids, but you knew that even you weren't immune from their love and charm.

"Toni! Get your butt in here NOW!" You yelled, marching down the hall to the other room. As you were walking, you felt someone drop behind you. Turning around, you saw your oldest smiling at you with a toothless grin. "Hi mommy."

"Girl, if you don't get into your clothes now, we are going to have a problem," you say cooly, ruffling your daughters hair as she ran past into her room.

"Daddy said that I could go with him to the tech lab today!" Toni beamed, but the look you had on your face was not one of excitement. Turning around, you caught Peter trying to sneak by you with the baby, but you had already caught up to him.

"What did you tell Toni about going to the tech lab?" you hissed. Peter jokingly covered the babies ears, whispering back "I couldn't think of anything else! She wouldn't get down."

You scooped Benji from his arms, strumming your finger back and forth across his tummy, eliciting a laugh from the baby. Kissing his chubby cheeks, you sighed as you used your other hand to pull Peter in by the collar of his shirt.

"You are gonna fix this problem, because I checked our schedule and we will have about an hour of free time at work, but if you take her to the tech lab, she won't leave us alone," you defended, leaning into his lips. His hand met your back as he kissed you with a little more force than usual. Times of passion and heated kisses grew slim, but were a special task when given the chance.

"Fine. But only because office sex sounds great," he grumbles against your ear, before smacking your ass and walking away. You yelp as you turn watch him enter Toni's room, hearing her squeal as he picks her up and starts tickling her.

"That wasn't the offer!" you call out, hearing him playfully roar at Toni.

You roll your eyes, happy that he was so good with handling both of the kids. You kissed benji once more on his squishy cheeks, going into the kitchen, thinking about the rest of your day.

Baby on your hip, you started brewing coffee and making everyone's breakfast. Everyone had a pretty set breakfast when it came to their weekday routine. You would make coffee and bagels for you and Peter while the baby stayed on your hip. As the bagels toasted, you would get out the cereal and milk for Toni to pour herself. Then you would strap the baby in their high chair with a bottle of milk, while you did up the bagels. Setting the bagels down on the counter, you would go back to the coffee maker, pouring sugar and creamer in mugs with the coffee (Peter never grew out of his love for sweet coffee). By the time the coffee hit the counter where three chairs were placed, set for two adults and one kid, they were filled by you, your husband and your daughter. You on the edge with the baby, feeding him squeeze pouches, soft bars and yogurt (he was a hungry baby), while you leaned over to read Peters latest file. As your head rested on his arm, he kisses the top of your head before taking a sip of the coffee you made. When you looked over at Toni, she was coloring a Captain America picture, while eating her cereal.

"Baby, who is that for?"

"It's for Uncle Sam! Look, I made him brown!"

You almost spit out your coffee, and Peter choked on his bagel. You both turned to look at the coloring page and stifled a laugh. It was indeed Captain America, but it was of Steve, not Sam. Well, it would have been of Steve if she hadn't colored him with a brown crayon.

You went over and ruffled her again, the curls frizzing out a little more. Plopping a kiss on her forehead while you squished her face, you smiled at her art.

"You know, that might actually be Uncle Steve."

"You know, the one I defeated when I met your mom for the first time," Peter interjected. You shot him a warning look as he stuck his tongue out at you. You looked through the book, trying to find Sam as Captain America, he was towards the back of the book, probably because of his rebranding. It had only been a decade or so that he was Cap, while Steve was Cap for 80 years or something.

Pointing to the page, you said "Do you want to color this one for him too?"

Toni nodded eagerly as she began drawing again. As you walked back over to your seat, you stopped behind Peter and wrapped your arms around his chest. He rested his head against your chest as your hair fell around his face.

"We are so showing Sam when we get to work," Peter snickered.

"Bucky might pee himself," you laugh.

[leftoverenvy]

Tastes Like Sugar (ch. 8)

Summary: India Mae, or Indi, is a music major, struggling to pay bills, tuition, work, and make good grades.  Emily Prentiss is a BAU profiler, as well as a DC socialite thanks to her huge family fortune.  The two enter into a mutually beneficial arrangement: Emily will pay for Indi's school if Indi accompanies Emily to her social functions for a few months, posing as her girlfriend.  As weeks go by, the lines between their arrangement and their true feelings start to blur.  But money can't buy love, right?

Pairing: India Mae Banks x Emily Prentiss; OC x Emily Prentiss

Warnings: eventual smut; sugar baby relationships; age gap (16 years - but all over 18)

Word Count: 4k

Read on Wattpad | Ao3 | Previous Chapters

Taglist: @ssa-sapphic 🧸; @5raysofsunshine 🌮; @reidselle 🦭; @milfprotector 🐝💚; @gaelic-symphony 🎻 ; @scargarcia-magshotchner ��; @sadgirlml 🌻💌; @hotchs-bitch ; @multiverse-mxdness ; @spencersendgame

Chapter 8 - A Work of Art

I woke up with the sun shining in my eyes.  While I normally wasn't a morning person, today held a certain air of excitement.  I was here, in Emily's home.  I was really doing this.  I looked around my new room to take it all in when I noticed a huge bouquet of flowers on my nightstand, a note propped up against the vase.

I smiled softly at the size and colors.  They were so vibrant; it was absolutely stunning.  Emily sure was making this transition easy.  I reached for the note and unfolded it to reveal Emily's smushed, messy-but-somehow-elegant, looping scrawl.

"Dearest India,

I hope you slept well.  I can't express to you how excited I am that you're finally here.  I can't wait to see what these four months will hold.  See you soon.

Yours, Emily"

I didn't realize it could get better than waking up to a sweet text message every morning, but having a handwritten note was really special.  I read over the "dearest India" and the word "yours" about a hundred times.  I pressed her letter to my chest and smiled like a sap.  I couldn't wait to see what these four months would hold either.

Eager to see Emily and get our day started, I threw my hair up in a messy bun and slipped on one of my sundresses.  It was a little chilly for a dress, but I assumed Emily was taking me to some high-end stores and I didn't want to feel underdressed.  Even though I had given her a hard time about all the things she bought from Sephora, I used the face cream, and it was the best product I had ever used.  I would die before I told Emily that though because I knew she would smirk at me, all too smug to be right.

As soon as I walked in the kitchen, I swore my heart stopped beating.  Emily was sitting at the kitchen island reading the paper, coffee in hand, with reading glasses perched on her nose.  The sun streamed through the kitchen windows and made her normally raven-black hair a glowing, beautiful russet.  She looked unbelievably sexy – I couldn't stop staring.  Why was something as simple as glasses so attractive?

She finally looked up, smiled, and said, "Good morning, Indi.  Sleep well?"

"Yes," I lied.  It took me a long time to fall asleep, but she didn't need to know that.  It was so quiet out here.  The lack of normal city sounds unnerved me.  "Thank you for the flowers; they're beautiful."

I almost audibly objected when she took her glasses off to look at me properly.  "You certainly are welcome.  When would you like to head out today?"

"I require caffeine and then we can go."  She chuckled and nodded her head towards the coffee maker.  I didn't need to be told twice.  I filled a mug 3/4 of the way and rummaged in her fridge for some milk.

"It's in the side of the door, Indi," she told me, amusement lacing her voice.

"Thank you!" I sat down near her at the island.  "So what's the plan for today?  Where are you taking me?"

"I figured we'd start at Nordstrom.  If you don't find anything there, we can go to Saks or Neiman Marcus.  And depending on how quickly you shop and what you like, we can buy multiple dresses today, so we don't have to shop for every event."

"I like the way you think, Ms. Prentiss."  I quickly finished my coffee and hopped up.  I rinsed my cup out, put it in the dishwasher, and turned towards Emily.  "I'm ready!"

______________________________

It turns out, I was not ready.  Emily didn't seem like the type to love shopping, but I had clearly underestimated her.  The woman was a shopping machine.  She loaded us both down with so many dresses for me to try on.  The woman would give Penelope a run for her money.

"Emily!" I complained, coming out of the dressing room in what felt like the same silk dress I had tried on thirty times before.  "You already have six in the approved pile.  Can't we just call it a day?"

"We can if you add that one to the pile of dresses to buy."  She quirked an eyebrow at me.  I nodded reluctantly, ready for the hours of torture to be over.

But Emily's hours of torture weren't over with dresses.  We had to choose necklaces and earrings, handbags and clutches, and then we looked at shoes endlessly.  I thought I would lose my mind.  Emily insisted on buying several pairs of high heels I was certain were going to kill me.  I vowed to myself that when Emily was away on a case, I would exclusively walk around the house in heels to practice walking in them.  When Emily finally – blissfully – declared us ready to pay, we walked towards the check-out counter, passing by the perfume counter.

My eyes lingered on the perfume I had been dying to buy for two years now, but could never afford.  It was $120 for the small bottle.  It smelled so good, so sexy.  I tried not to be obvious – Emily was already spending what I calculated to be about $6,000.  On me.  It was enough to make my head spin. 

"Sweetheart?" she asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.

"Hmm?"

"If you want something, you only have to ask," she reminded.

"I don't.  Let's go," I said pushing on her arm towards the check-out.

She tugged on my arm to drag me back to the perfumes.  "Which one is it, angel?"

I bit my lip.  Was this coercing Emily into buying me more stuff?  I felt guilty, but I wanted it so badly.  "Uh," I looked towards the display, "It's this one," I said picking it up.  "But I want you to like it too.  I don't want it if you hate it."

She stepped closer to me, placing one hand on the counter behind me.  I was caged between her and the counter, but it didn't bother me somehow.  In fact, it felt nice to be this close to her.  "Let me smell it then."  I held the bottle up to her nose and she inhaled deeply.  Her eyes darkened and her lids drooped.  "Yes," she said a bit breathlessly, taking a step even closer – shrinking the space between us even further.  "I think we should buy that."

"Can I help you?" a saleswoman interrupted.  Emily immediately took two sizable steps backwards.  I missed the warmth from her body.

"Yes," Emily answered.  "Can we get this in a 3-ounce bottle?"

"It comes in 1.7, 3.4, or 5 ounces."

"The 3.4, then.  Thank you.  And can we pay for it at the other counter?  We have several things to purchase."  The woman nodded and disappeared behind the counter.

"Thank you Emily, really."  She squeezed my shoulder.  Her touch had me longing for earlier's closeness.  The magic of her touch was undeniable.  I needed more.

______________________________

I stared at the stranger looking back at me in the mirror.  She was elegant, sophisticated.  She belonged on Emily's arm.  Her long, false lashes fluttered seductively.  Her smokey makeup made her look mysterious.  Her dress draped over her curves deliciously.  If I weren't looking in the mirror, watching her copy my movements, I wouldn't believe it were me.  I had never felt as beautiful as I did tonight.  For the first time, I truly believed I was worthy to be seen with Emily.

I clumsily clomped down the stairs in my might-kill-me-before-the-night-is-over heels and called out, "Em?"

I heard a gasp from across the living room.  "My god, Indi," she whispered.  "You look stunning.  Absolutely breathtaking."  I felt insecure but somehow warm under her gaze.

"Thank you," I said shyly.  "You look beautiful too."  It sounded contrived, but I meant it.  No one looked sexier in a suit than Emily did.  After several more seconds of staring, she grabbed my hand and tugged me towards the garage.

"Let's get a move on, or we're going to be late."

"Sorry," I whispered.  "It took me longer to do my makeup than expected."  I remembered the multiple gluing disasters I had with my eye lashes.  And then applying and immediately wiping off eye liner on my left eye because I couldn't get the wings even.  It was enough to make me almost scream several times.  Penelope always made it look so easy.  Before I came downstairs, I had convinced myself it wasn't worth it to do this all again, but seeing Emily's reaction changed that.  There wasn't anything in this world I wouldn't do to hear Emily's breathless gasp at seeing me walk down the stairs. 

She paused her walking and spun me to face her.  Her hand cupped my cheek and I melted.  "It will be worth it, even if we're late.  You really do look lovely."  My cheek blazed underneath her hand.  I was hopeful she couldn't feel the new heat from my embarrassment, but I thought it unlikely.

I cast my eyes down in embarrassment – her eyes were so sincere, so hypnotizing – but grabbed her hand to hold it to my skin for just a moment longer.  "Okay," I said releasing her hand, "Let's go."

The drive to the gallery was uneventful.  Emily and I made idle chit chat until we pulled into a spot that said 'reserved.'  I smirked at her.  "You have your own spot?" 

She rolled her eyes and said, "Come on, you," and got out of the car.  I quickly followed her lead but was met with a frown.  "You should really let me get your door."

"Sorry, Em," I whispered.  She was standing so close and somehow the night air charged the electricity between us further.  I suddenly longed to feel her lips on mine.

"I want to apologize for what's about to happen."

"What do you mean?" I asked, my brows furrowed.  But as we rounded the corner to walk in the main entrance, I immediately understood.  Cameras started flashing immediately and a chorus of "Emily!" or "Ms. Prentiss!" surrounded us.  And then they noticed me.

"Ms. Prentiss!  Who's this?  Who did you bring tonight?"  The questions were endless as were the camera clicks.  Emily's arm encircled my waist, drawing me closer. 

"I'm sorry about this," she apologized again.  Her lips brushed against the shell of my ear, and I had to bite back a moan, but I couldn't stop the shiver that ran down my spine.  "Just pose with me?  And then they'll go away."  I smiled though I was a bit dazed.  What had I gotten myself into?  Emily's thumb rubbed circles into my hip, calming me down. 

When we finally made it inside, Emily grabbed two wine glasses off a passing waiter's tray and handed me one immediately.  Throughout the night, as we made polite conversation with all her socialite friends, she made sure my glass was full.  I started slowly sipping so I didn't get drunk and embarrass her.

It was interesting to see Emily in this setting.  Though she always seemed so poised and commanding, it was maxed out tonight.  The Emily I saw at home was much different from this almost aloof woman.  I could tell the strain it imposed on her to discuss meaningless things with these vapid women.  And her arm never dropped from my waist, showing everyone I was hers.  Normally such a possessive display would anger me, but I was all too willing to be hers.

After introducing me for what felt like the millionth time, Emily said, "Excuse me, ladies.  I'd like to show my girl around."  My heart fluttered in my chest like a hummingbird.  I was her girl.

As we circled the gallery, I tried my hardest to stay engaged, but art really wasn't my thing.  But this was important to Emily, so I dutifully looked at every painting we passed.  She paused in front of an abstract painting that vaguely resembled two, intertwined bodies.  Now that we were away from her friends, I couldn't help but ask, "How am I doing?  Am I embarrassing you in front of all your friends?"

She grabbed my hand and squeezed.  "You could never embarrass me."

"Even though I don't know anything about art?" I teased.

Her eyes sparkled as they penetrated mine.  "Even then," she whispered.  It seemed cruel to all the artists represented here tonight to showcase their art in the same building as Emily.  She was the most beautiful work of art I had ever seen.  Nothing would ever compare to the majesty of her smile.  No color could ever be as deep as her eyes; nothing would ever compare to getting lost in her eyes. 

"Emily!" a woman called over the noise of the crowd.  Emily's entire body stiffened noticeably.  "You are the center of the gossip tonight, did you know?  You couldn't even tell your own mother you were bringing a date?"

"Mother," Emily said in curt greeting.  Ahh that explains her sudden shift.

"A tux, really Emily?  You couldn't find a dress to wear?"  Suddenly, it didn't seem so unreasonable for Emily to speak of her mother the way she did.  Emily's mother seemed like an incredibly unpleasant woman.  "And aren't you going to introduce me?"

"Mother, this is my girlfriend" – the thrill at hearing the fake title hadn't lessened over the course of the night – "India Mae."

"I had no idea you were even dating," she said dramatically, "let alone seriously involved with someone.  Honestly, I have no idea why you tell me so little about your life."  I could venture a guess.  Emily sighed deeply, her grip on my waist tightening a touch more in frustration.  "Last I heard, you were seeing Jennifer."

Ouch.  I had no reason to be upset because I wasn't actually dating Emily, but it still stung.  Who was this woman coming in and talking to Emily about a different woman in front of the "current girlfriend?"

"Mother," Emily warned icily, anger tensing her whole body.  "Don't.  I JUST told you I was with Indi.  That was incredibly rude."  Inexplicably, it felt so good to have Emily defending me.  This feeling, unfamiliar before meeting Emily, shot through my stomach, causing it to clench deliciously.  It was reminiscent of every time our eyes locked or when she touched me.  But it was much stronger now.  I looked up at her: eyes tight and nostrils flared.  My stomach tightened again.  My lips ached to touch her jaw, her cheek, her own lips.  Could this be what true desire felt like?

"Come on, baby," Emily interrupted my reverie.  "Let's make sure we finish looking at everything and say congratulations to each artist.  Then we can go, okay?"  Every time she called me 'baby,' I tried not to read too much into it – especially now since we were in public – but it fell so sensually out of her mouth.  I wanted to hear her gasp it breathlessly as I kissed her neck. 

She grabbed my hand and started to turn away when her mother protested, "Emily!  This is YOUR gallery.  You cannot leave so early.  What would it look like?"

"I don't care.  Excuse us," she said pulling me away firmly.  I sent a tight-lipped smile over my shoulder to Emily's mom, trying to be polite.  I struggled to keep up with her walking as quickly as she was.  I still wasn't used to wearing these heels.

"You didn't tell me this was YOUR gallery!" I whispered.  "Why do you even have a gallery??  I thought you were in the FBI…"

"I am.  This was just something I was interested in.  I wanted to give young artists of color a chance to show their work.  DC is hostile to new artists, especially young adults of color.  We need more voices in the art world." 

I admired what she was doing very greatly, and it furthered my desire to stay for the remainder of the evening.  "We can't leave yet then!  Your mom's right.  It would be rude to dip out on your own gallery opening.  Why didn't you tell me?"

"I just did," she said nonchalantly with a shrug.  We walked the gallery in silence after that.  She hummed at a piece every now and then, and I dutifully followed her. 

"So, what do you think?" she asked when we arrived at the last exhibit.

I scrambled to find something, anything, to say.  I should have googled vague arty things to say in preparation for tonight.  "It's uh…"  I tried to find a compliment that wouldn't give away the fact that I didn't give a damn about paintings.  "Nice," I finished lamely.  Great job, Indi.

"Nice, huh?" she chuckled.

"Well frankly, I appreciate the arts in the form of music, but I am open to you changing that about me."

"I have yet to hear you appreciate the arts in the form of music," she teased.

"I can change that any time, Emily."  I looked up into her eyes again to express my sincerity.

"I'd like that."  Everything tunneled and narrowed until I could only see Emily, only hear her.  No one else surrounded us.  There was no party – there was only us. 

I cleared my throat to break the tension.  "Can we go home now?  Or do you need to stay longer?"

"Sure baby, lemme just congratulate all the artists and say thank you for their work."  As if we had been doing this for years, she leaned down and kissed the corner of my mouth before turning and walking away.  I stiffened, stunned by the electricity that scorched the skin under where her lips had touched me.  Involuntarily, my hand raised to my mouth, as if touching the sacred place her lips had kissed me would preserve the feeling.

I watched her slowly turn around, her eyes wide.  But all I could do was smile.  She had kissed me.  "Indi, I'm so- fuck.  I'm so sorry."

"Not here, Em," I said closing the distance between us.  "It's okay.  Don't call attention to it.  That's a normal thing for a couple to do."  I cupped her face to ease her worry.

"Promise?"  I nodded.  "Come with me?" she asked in a voice much smaller than I was used to from her.

"I'm right behind you."  Before I could stop myself, I grabbed her hand and intertwined our fingers together.  I craved that feeling again – the feeling of tingling skin from where her lips nearly kissed mine.  It wasn't quite the same holding her hand, but it was better than nothing, because I just craved her.  Each inch of space between us felt like a mile.

I thought it might be awkward at first.  I mean, what does one talk about after almost being kissed by the most beautiful woman on the planet?  What is one supposed to say when their dream almost comes true?  But I wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth.  I would take any affection she showed me.  I was worried there was something undesirable about me.  Maybe that was why nothing had worked out for me romantically so far.

But once the feel of her lips faded from my skin, and the more I heard her "Fuck, I'm so sorry" echo around my head, it started to eat at me.  How easy she could just brush it off.  It was all I could think about.  It affected me profoundly.  Emily's lips, even just on my cheek, had shifted my world.

When we finally got in the car to go home, I bit my lip and stared out the window.  I don't know how many minutes passed, but Emily's voice finally interrupted my yearning.  "Something's bothering you."  It wasn't a question.  She just knew.

"How can you tell?" I was genuinely curious.  We had only known each other a couple weeks now, and nearly all that time had been virtual.

"You're pretty easy to read, Indi.  Now tell me."

"I was just thinking about earlier…" I said honestly.  Why lie?

"I'm sorry," she apologized again.  "I crossed a line.  I wish I could take it back."  I felt like I was punched in the gut.  She wanted to take it back.

"Oh…" I couldn't keep the hurt out of my voice, though I tried my hardest.  It was ridiculous for me to be so affected by this.  This was the arrangement – this is what I had agreed to.  There was no room for me to long for her, to want her.

I quickly backtracked because clearly this meant way more to me than it did Emily.  I was embarrassed, so I lied.  "Actually, I was curious about your mother."

"Oh!" she said in shock.  "Well, we don't have the best relationship…"  Even though Emily was telling me valuable information about herself, I couldn't listen.  My heart stung like the tears in my eyes I fought to keep from falling. 

I started when I felt her hand on mine in my lap.  "Hey…"  I appreciated her gesture, and I held onto her hand like a life preserver.  I looked up, shocked to discover we were home.  "I know that isn't what you wanted to talk about."  Damn profilers.  I couldn't hide anything from her.  We walked inside in tense silence.

I moved to head upstairs when she pulled on my shoulder to stop me.  "What is it?  Do you want to call this off?"

I snapped my gaze to meet hers.  "No!"  How could she think that?  "I was just wondering…"  Jesus, I was so embarrassed.

"Yes?" she prompted.  She sighed, frustrated I wouldn't just spit it out.  "This can only work if you're honest with me.  I won't judge.  Whatever it is, you can tell me."

"Why don't you want to have sex with me?!" I blurted.

Her jaw dropped and she froze like a deer in the headlights.  "What!" she gasped.  Clearly she was expecting to hear that as much as I had been expecting to say it.

There was no turning back now.  "You were so set on no physical contact and then you said you regret kissing me."

"I never said I regretted it," she interrupted.  I looked at her puzzled, waiting for her to elaborate.  "I said I wished I could take it back."  I failed to see how that was meaningfully different.  I didn't know if that was supposed to make me feel better. 

She pulled me to the couch and sat down next to me, maintaining her grasp on my hand.  "You deserve something real, Indi.  You're so special.  I just want you to be happy."

"But am I so repulsive to you in that way?  Is it so crazy to think of me like that?"  Christ!  I must have had way too much wine.  Where had my filter gone?

"Of course not!  Honestly I was under the impression it was a dealbreaker for you.  And I don't need that; the terms of our agreement do not need to include sex."  My stomach sank again.  Don't make it awkward, India.  She's being polite; she doesn't want to hurt your feelings.  The agreement doesn't need to include sex because she doesn't feel that way for you.  And why would she?

I quickly made an excuse and headed upstairs to bed.  I slowly pulled pins out of my hair.  I wiped eyeliner off my eyelids in a daze.  When I washed my face, I watched makeup rinse down the drain.  It was like scrubbing away my hope.  It was naive to think this could turn into some fairytale romance.  Real life didn't work like that.  This was nothing more than a business arrangement.  A job.

But everyone needed to figure out a way to enjoy their job, right?  As I laid in bed, aching to feel her lips on me again, I had to come up with a plan to get her to kiss me again.  If she would only show me affection when we were out, in order to keep up appearances, then I would just have to curate several scenarios to get her to do that.  After all, if this was my job, I needed to give Emily what she was paying for.

_ _ _

Continue to next chapter

[sourwormsaresour]

What do you think are the team's go-to coffee/tea orders?

I know that Italy has a particular coffee culture, so let's see how the team follows it (or not¯\_(ツ)_/¯).

Prosciutto follows coffee culture in Italy almost to a T. Coffee after 11am must not have any milk unless you're some sort of child (looking at you, Pesci) and any additive like sugar or other flavorings should not hide the true taste of coffee. However, he himself doesn't have his coffee with milk in the morning unless offered to and uses his Keurig coffee maker to brew him a cup or two to start his morning; his flavor pod of choice varies each day and he usually buys whatever pods piqued his interest at the time or if it's on sale. His go-to, if offered a morning coffee with milk, is a basic cappuccino. He'll ask to have less milk in his order if allowed but otherwise isn't as particular about his coffee unless there is an obvious off-taste. After 11 am, he likes to get a pick-me-up with a either a simple espresso or a caffè lungo. If he's feeling really indulgent and wants to relax for the day, he would get a caffè corretto instead. He's not a tea person, surprisingly. He's tried to like tea but nothing can replace his usual coffee no matter what but would have simple black tea if there's no option for caffeine available.

Illuso can't help but enjoy a cappuccino any time of the day- even after the 11 am rule. Out of everyone on the team, he enjoys his coffee al banco in the afternoons the most- either with his friends, teammates, or by himself. The coffee bars he usually goes to often has as many mirrors as decorum as possible, so he would use that to people watch without interruption, gather possible intel, and possibly get away with not paying if he's in a pinch. Usually, Illuso's cappuccinos are basic but he especially likes caffè d’un parrinu if it's offered. Something about the spices reminds him of childhood when he used to often have hot chocolate with his siblings during the long winter nights, even though there is no hot chocolate in caffè d’un parrinu at all. His older sister often put spices like cinnamon and cloves to make it extra special, so he drinks this particular coffee when he feels homesick or in need of nostalgia. The only tea he drinks is ginger with some honey, but that's only when he's feeling sick or feels a cold coming in.

Sorbet is a fan of sparkling espresso. It all started when he was trying to make some flavored cold brew but the only water available to him was sparkling water. He tried it and can never stop drinking it. Sometimes, he plays around with the flavors by switching it up with the syrup flavoring but usually it's just a simple sugar syrup. His personal favorites are mint and orange, and he sometimes makes it a latte too. Sorbet doesn't drink it in front of his team members though. Even weirder- he likes it warm; someone should check on him. When it's a hot day though, he'll get a caffè freddo and has a specific shaker and strainer in his home to make them himself. He loves that frothy topping and would use that for his morning coffee instead of a cappuccino. If he's really feeling like letting loose, he'd take a carajillo with mezcal. He's tried caffè corretto but nothing beats the hard liquor.

Ghiaccio, on the other hand, hates coffee. In fact, he tries to avoid consuming anything that has caffeine, so energy drinks and teas are also a no-go for him. Energy that he does want comes straight from the food and drinks he consumes and nothing more. While it may seem like Ghiaccio doesn't drink anything, he prefers a protein shake for his mornings and a either a ginger shot or wheatgrass shot for his afternoon pickups. Usually, he just sticks to water, freshly made juice with no other additives, or herbal tea as his preferred beverage. He has to thank Melone into getting him into herbal tea, especially Chamomile and mint. Sometimes, if he's been anxious all day and needs to relax in the evening, he'd brew himself some tea before drinking it and going to bed. He's also a casual fan of tea cultures around the world and would frequent tea houses in Italy by himself or with his teammates if they want to tag along.

Risotto, like Prosciutto, also doesn't have his coffee with milk in the morning but he's really into cold brew. He's always in a rush to get things completed, so coffee to him is best served cooled down so he can just chug it. He always makes a batch of cold brew for the wee so he can quickly grab his coffee right from the fridge and down a mug or two without burning his mouth. Sometimes, that means ordering a Caffè americano in the afternoons. If he was really feeling for fresh coffee and he has time to relax, he would do pour-over, siphon, or drip coffee. In terms of drip coffee, he used to be acquainted with a Vietnamese mafioso who introduced him to cà phê sữa đá and cà phê trứng and he's been in love with it ever since. He's tried to get his team to love it too but no one was really interested besides Pesci, who tried to like it but wasn't into how strong the coffee still was even after the other stuff is added. Gelato thinks it's not strong enough.

Pesci doesn't like coffee at all but he drinks it to not be bullied any further by his team for not following coffee culture. While Prosciutto is fine with him drinking milk in the morning as part of his breakfast, he shames the mafioso for drinking anything that has too much milk in the afternoon because that's against "proper coffee rules". If he's trying to impress or avoid further bullying, Pesci will try to drink a Latte macchiato, since it has a "splash" of espresso, in the morning and then try to sneak in some milk into his afternoon coffee in some way to ease his stomach when he has to down some drinks. One way of doing that is by getting himself a caffè mocaccino. The chocolate flavor comes from him either using leftover hot chocolate mix or chocolate with a bit of milk inside of it that he can melt into his drink. At least he can proudly say he's drinking espresso and having a more mild tummy ache afterwards and the smell of chocolate fills his nose enough to distract him from the pain.

Gelato is also on team sweet coffee. As if Sorbet is weird with his coffee in Italian standards, Gelato is too. He likes buna; if the half-coffee half-tea combo isn't off putting to a snob like Prosciutto, the loads of sugar in it will. He's actually attended a Jebena Buna before and that was how he got himself into taking his coffee like so. Initially, he used to just brew tea and coffee. But once an acquaintance gifted him a Jebena, he started going all out with it. While other team members don't mind pre-ground or instant coffee at varying degrees, Gelato insists on grinding the beans himself (he tried roasting it once and there's a reason why he and Sorbet was now living in their current apartment) and will drink three cups of it every time. He spent years perfecting his pours and, honestly, he's pretty good at it. A former neighbor of his who was Ethiopian said his skills are adequate but promising; Gelato will take that compliment any day.

Melone, like Ghiaccio, doesn't like coffee and tries to avoid consuming caffeine unless he needs a pick me up. However, when he does need some caffeine, he would take in caffeinated tea via tea bags he was gifted or got on sale to drink. His absolute favorite thing to make when he needs a pick me up is Masala chai. His Desi friends introduced him to it and he can't stop making it for himself ever since; he prefers the more herbal and spicier variation. Melone has his own "secret" karha blend that he developed over the years but he continues to experiment with different flavors and variations from time to time. If there's one thing he's proud of, it's that he once made chai to a group of aunties while visiting a friend without them knowing and they all approved it. The downside is they now ask him to make chai every time he visits and will continue to hound him until he does. At least that means more gossip to listen into and more tasty biscuits to eat too.

Formaggio kind of doesn't give a shit with coffee beyond not drinking dairy after 11 am. He's the person who doesn't care where the coffee comes from or what the coffee tastes like; if it's coffee, it's coffee. His go-to is Ferrara, which he usually just brews every morning and slowly drinks out of as the day goes by. If someone gives him any coffee drink, he'll take it anyways. One thing he secretly likes and dreams of having again is kahve. He saw it brewed in a cezve once over sand at a mom-and-pop stand serving Turkish food and was instantly mesmerized. He certainly felt fancy drinking it out of a kahve fincani and used to visit that stand in Italy for his coffee until it was shut down due to the owners retiring. Poor Formaggio tried to recreate it at home and that resulted in a home smelling like burned coffee for a few weeks and still finding sand to clean up since. While he doesn't mind it flavored or sweetened, he prefers it unsweetened and hopes to one day find a place that can make his beloved coffee again.

[mack3030]

Just a friendly reminder...

I am not making any sort of money off of my anti-paywall comments. In fact, I'm risking my job, {I've had people try to get me fired, doxx me, and generally make absolutely horrible comments}, my mental health/sanity, my sense of security and safety, and my standing in this community. The people who are coming after me trying to "debunk" my comments and claims are either: - People who are blindly following the creators they support because they want the shiny things those creators offer and are participating in their own form of kissing up/hero worship. - People who are deceived that anyone who supposedly "makes" anything for the sims 4 should be believed above all others and that anyone who speaks out against them is jealous and envious. {Not true at all. /eyeroll} - "Paywall" creators who have everything to gain by supporting paywalls because they can financially profit from it, and from people beliving that what they do is allowed and okay to do. -One or more of the above, except they're hiding behind sock puppet and alt accounts because they know if they tried to go after me from their main, either the community or tumblr would intervene. So let me say this again:

I HAVE ZERO REASON TO LIE. I AM RISKING MY SAFETY, INCOME, JOB SECURITY, STANDING IN THIS COMMUNITY, AND MENTAL SANITY TO DO THIS. I DO NOT HAVE A PATREON, KO-FI, GO FUND ME, OR ANY SORT OF WAY TO BE FINANCIALLY COMPENSATED, NOR WOULD I EVEN OPEN ONE SUCH ACCOUNT. I DO NOT DO THIS FOR THE MONEY.

THE PEOPLE ATTACKING ME HAVE EVERY REASON IN THE WORLD TO WANT ME TO BE DISCREDITED. BECAUSE THEY CAN FINANCIALLY PROFIT OFF IT. BEING A PATREON CREATOR WHO PAYWALLS IS A VERY FINANCIALLY LUCRATIVE BUSINESS. AND SO THEY HAVE HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS OF "REA$ON$" TO LIE, HARRASS, DOXX, AND GO AFTER PEOPLE.

It's funny how people try to spin what I do and say that me calling people out is me trying to get clout or just being a drama llama. I honestly do not care if I have one follower or 1,000. I just want whoever does listen to know that this behavior and acceptance of people who are literally just out to abuse a community already treated by the game-makers like dirt {yes EA, you guys treat us just as bad as the paywallers do, and milk our wallets just as much} is NOT okay and that we shouldn't stand for it.

I hate seeing people get taken advantage of. I hate it when community is ruined by greed and the desire to make everything a profit-making venture. Then there's people saying "oh she just wants free stuff". No. No I don't. What I do want is to have the OPTION to support creators when I have the financial ability to instead of being FORCED to support someone just because they paywalled their shit. I'm more than willing to pay to thank creators who properly treat the community right and either make their own stuff or at the very least credit the real creators and don't paywall. But I do not want to support people who want to milk the community and are willing to lie about permissions for the assets they use. So before you come at me, you need to ask yourself: What does this person I'm considering defending standing for? What do they have to gain from their position? Do they stand to profit financially? What do they potentially LOSE if I choose to not support them? Just some food for thought. ;)

[mendesblurb]

Show me your phone

GIF CREDITS TO OWNER AND MAKER @dreamofwonder

Shawn Mendes x female reader

Warning: fluff, maybe grammar error and maybe some punctuation errors

Oh My God!  You thought to yourself. This was the day. Its finally here. The day you and your husband had been waiting for a while now. It was finally here.

Your nerves were absolutely racking and your heart was beating fast. the test showed you 2 lines. YOU WERE PREGNANT.

You looked at the pregnancy test again and the other two that sat on the vanity, all positive. Now it was time to tell Shawn the news.

“We’re going to have a what?” Shawn asked, his face turning up toward you. 

He was sitting on the bed with his back against the headboard, having some much needed relaxing time after being in the recording studio all day.

You’d discovered you were pregnant this morning after he’d left for work and decided to keep the news until he was home.

For the time being you kept your news a secret from the media, afraid of the possibility of things happening on the first trimester. So you started going out in baggy clothes so the paparazzi will not know and throwback photos became a thing in your Instagram feed.

However, you knew that sooner or later it would be discovered, it didn’t worry you too much, but you wanted to feel comfortable first with the idea of having a growing human inside your belly and also because Shawn and you are a pretty private couple.

————————-FOUR MONTHS LATER————

Tonight , Shawn was going to be interviewed on Jimmy Fallon’s late night show because of the recent release of his album “wonder.”

It was a routine that before one of you came on, the other would send a text message of encouragement and an occasional “I love you ” were sent along with it.

You: enjoy the talk show with Jimmy 😙

Shawn: thanks baby, love you 😘

You: love you too ❤️

Shawn: see you at home ❤️

You: send image

This time you decide to send a pic of you and Tarzan at the living room couch and the pic also displayed your growing bump.

You: see you at home Shawnie❤️, lots of love from me, Tarzan and little Mendes

As the crew began counting down the seconds before going live Jimmy sat down slowly and Shawn adjusted his jacket as he got comfortable in the chair.

“Now Shawn…” Jimmy started, leaning on his desk casually. “quite a bit has happened since the last time I saw you.”

He nodded slightly, a ghost of a smile on his lips, “Yeah it’s been a while dude.”

Jimmy laughed partially, “that’s right… the last time you were here you were single, and now you’re married.”

Shawn nodded as Jimmy continued, “now Wonder just came out a few weeks ago and it was a huge hit..”

Shawn smiled, “yup it did alright.”

The rest of the interview was great, Shawn talked about the highs and lows he experienced when creating the album and how all his songs were about you and how grateful he was to have you by his side through it all.

That night both Shawn and Jimmy were going to play ‘Show me your phone’, a game where they had to show whatever was hidden on their smart phones.

As the game was about to start, Shawn realised he wasn’t prepared at all. At this point he knew your secret is about to be exposed, I mean your whole relationship was not a secret but it was mostly private.

Both of you seem to have a habit of dropping the bombshell to your fans. Like that one time you finally made your relationship social media official, another time you secretly got married and now you’re secretly 4 months pregnant.

Now sitting across from Jimmy, Shawn could feel his heart pounding , and his hand began to feel clammy.

In front of them there was a red button, in the centre a tripod that will act as a phone holder and next to it was an electronic panel showing all the possibilities that could come up.

There was the icon for messages, Safari, photos , Instagram, Twitter, mail and call.

“Okay, you ready?” Jimmy asked and Shawn just nodded his head.

“Okay, for anyone who don’t know, here’s how game works. Shawn and I will take turns pressing the red button we have here, which will randomly select one of these icons we have on the board.”

After He explained how the game works , then he opted for Shawn to go first as he was the guest.

Laughter was heard among the audience as they saw the nervous glances that was displayed in both Shawn’s and Jimmy’s faces.

“FYI, neither of us know what’s behind each icon.” Jimmy looks at Shawn who was now laughing. “Let’s go and explore our phone.” Jimmy said

“Let the adventure begin,” Shawn said while trying to hide his face. “I think I forgot to clean my phone before the game.”

“You and me both dude,” Jimmy said laughing along with him. “Alright, here we go. Since you’re the guest you press first.”

“I am honoured ,” Shawn said sarcastically , which drew another laughter from the audience. “Here goes nothing!”

Shawn pressed the red button and quickly the icons on the panel began to light up and the light stopped specifically on the Safari browser icon, so that a text was displayed that said 'Show and tell us your last Google search’.

“Shawn if you could please show us your last Google search my friend.” Jimmy said while trying to control his laughter.

“Okay!” exclaimed Shawn grabbing his phone and heading to the app. “If I’m being honest I forgot what my last search was… Oh never mind!”

Shawn started laughing and tried to hide his phone, which only caused the audience to laugh hilariously.

"Okay, fine,” Shawn said as he put the phone down on the small platform. “I was just trying to do a kind gesture.”

The camera pointed straight at him, checking that his last search had been ‘nearest grocery store with Oat milk’.

The set erupted in laughter, Jimmy clasped his hands to his chest, laughing his head off.

“This- This is actually funny because it’s so specific but it’s actually very thoughtful,” he said between guffaws. “Did you end up buying it though?”

“I did!” Shawn said. “I found two brands and you know I was just trying to buy it because Y/N being a good wife she is wants me to start living a healthier lifestyle.”

“Awww,” Jimmy said . “Come on! Here we go. My turn.”

The panel came back on, the light moving between icons until it stopped on the photo app. Jimmy frowned, and the panel informed him that it should show the last picture he took on his phone.

“Come on, show us!” exclaimed Shawn encouragingly.

“I’m extremely scared,” said Jimmy with a serious and comical look on his face, reaching for his phone. “I am deeply embarrassed … Oh!” he began to laugh. “Okay, okay. This… is me trying to be a good Dad, don’t judge me.”

The picture showed Jimmy trying to pose with a random Snapchat filter and the caption was ‘Goodnight Frances & Winnie’ . In response the audience started laughing.

“All right, all right,” Jimmy held up his hands. “I have an explanation . The other day my wife said my kids won’t go to bed until I said goodnight to them and I was still on set.”

“That’s actually cool man!” exclaimed Shawn.

“Anything to put your kids to bed,” he laughed and picked up his phone.

“Show us your last text message” Jimmy read out eliciting cheers from the audience. “Come on!”

“Okay,” he began to laugh nervously. “It says there the last message I sent, in details too?”

“Well, just put the phone down,” Jimmy laughed.

“Okay,” Shawn started to look up. “Last text message…” he took a breath and looked at Jimmy hesitantly.“Oh here we go…”

Your last conversation appeared before everyone’s eyes, showing only the last photo you had sent him with Tarzan and your growing bump was present and the caption was the true bombshell of all.

“Wait, wait back up Mendes,” Jimmy said looking at him and questioning “little Mendes? Is this why she’s taking a break?”

The audience exclaimed a sweet 'aw’ again when they got a glimpse of the photo and Shawn was just widely smiling.

“This is really sweet!” said Jimmy looking at Shawn, “This is the best news ever.”

“I know, I know,” Shawn commented and nodding his head slowly.

“Do you know the gender?” asked Jimmy hesitantly, to which Shawn took another breath before replying.

“Yes we do,” Shawn laughed nervously. “We are going to have a baby girl.”

 “There you have it, folks! The show is about exposing secrets! Thank you for watching, let’s all patiently wait for the arrival of baby Mendes.”

Shawn was seen hugging Jimmy as the camera flickered off, the curtains closing - concealing them from the screaming audience.

Taglist: @holland-styles @itsalwaysbeen305 @nervousmendes

TAGLIST & REQUESTS ARE OPEN

[dandyxrandy]

Coming Back

Pairing: Ezra x Reader Rating: Explicit Length: 906 Warnings: BDSM (rough sex), Daddy Kink, Dom!Ezra, Sub!Reader, Oral Sex (M-Receiving), Aftercare (Because its essential in healthy BDSM relationships, folks.) Gif Credit: @uuuhshiny​

“Shh, sh. Who’s a good girl, hm?”     Ezra had you on your knees in front of him, a hand tightly fisted in your hair and tipping your head back so you had no choice but to look up at him. You didn’t dare close your eyes because you already had received one hard slap against the cheek and you didn’t want another one.     “Daddy asked you a question, sweet thing. Who is a good girl?” He flexed his hips forward, his cock brushing along your cheek, smearing a dribble of cum.     “I am.” It came out as a whimper as his fingers tightened causing tears to brim your eyes.     “That’s right, my little fawn. You are veritably my good girl. Immaculate, I dare say. “ Ezra rocked his hips against you, letting his cock push against the side of your face. The head of his cock was soft and warm and you wanted it, but Ezra was teasing you. You knew what he wanted.     “Please…” You rocked forward a little, lips parting invitingly. “Please, Daddy.”     Above you Ezra groans, his head rolling back as he lets his hand slide from your hair to cup the side of your face instead. His thumb brushes along your lower lip, teasing along the edge of your bottom teeth as he catches your eyes with his deep, dark brown ones.     “Oh, I can’t deny such a faultless requisition, now can I?” His voice drops to just a whisper as he keeps your mouth open with his hold as his jaw works side to side. You see the spittle drop from his pursed lips into your mouth, a cool hit and it was so filthy.  

    “Swallow.” You did. Ezra smiled widely, a keen look in his eye.     “Atta’ girl.” He smoothed his hand over your face, cupping your cheek and he finally let his cock head slide past your lips. “Nice and slow, just like Daddy likes.”     You squeeze your thighs together, feeling the wetness drip from your cunt. Ezra had already made you cum until you were shaking and crying for him to stop. He took pity on you once you couldn’t stand without his help and instead had you kneel for him.     He let his hips roll so he could let his cock slide in and out of your mouth and he moaned low. He wouldn’t last long like this, even with the slow grind of his hips. Your hands slip up to press against his thighs, fingers curling around the backs to stroke along the underside of his ass. Ezra stutters in his movements and swears and you try not to smile.     Both of Ezra’s hands take your face and almost as if on a cue you let your jaw fall slack and he brings your head forward for him, his cock burying to the very back of your throat and you gag a little. He doesn’t care, he holds you there for a moment and pulls back then does it again before you could grab a breath.

        He fucks you like this, slow and languid, but deep. He loves the noises you make, loves the way you gag around his cock and the way your throat tightens around him. He loves seeing the drool leak from the corners of your mouth and down your chin because he does that to you.He cums soon, though, and with another curse under his breath. He holds you tight against him, his cock deep down your throat, your nose buried in his pubic hair. He cums and you swallow it down, swallow around him, working to milk what you can.     “Such a good girl. So good to me.” Ezra cradles your face gently then, the mood shifting to something more tender. “Let’s get you righted, babydoll.”     Ezra helps you up and moves you to the makeshift bed that was at the back of the tent. You both had decided to get the bed together when you realized it was easier to sleep as one rather than separate after the first few times you found yourselves in a similar predicament as this one. Ezra very much liked to enjoy himself in many different ways and once he found that you had a particular kink that he too shared, the proverbial bull was let loose from its pen.   He always took care of you afterwards, though. Always made sure you were okay and that, after he treated you rough and took what he wanted, that you understood how cherished and loved you were and that you were ‘the greatest gift Kevva could bestow’ upon him.     Ezra helped you down onto the bed, smoothing the hair away from your face and littered kisses across your cheeks. It made you blush when he became soft afterwards and you felt the adoration he had for you. It pulled you from your headspace every time, the way he touched you gently and pressed words of praise to your skin.     “Little bird.” Ezra scooped you up in his arms as he curled you into his chest, pulling you close. “You are a true testimony that there is a Maker above.” His lips pressed to your temple, brow knitting in concern. Always so concerned for you.  “Are you doing well?”     You nodded against him, knowing the sincerity in his question. If you weren’t he would take extra time for you to come back to him. Always back to him.