#need to revisit some of my old babies

[st-hugs]

some O'Learys to start the day. (......its 2:25pm........)

[abbyshands]

for you

🇵🇸 LINKS | before engaging !!! | m. list | join my tag list!

♡ synopsis; making a home out of catalina island for years on end had been wonderful, but for most of it, you had been derived of the last piece of the puzzle: abigail anderson. you were a skilled medic, so when abby had showed up, you had cared for her, and nursed her back to the girl she was, helping her to heal, and to find home the same way you had. now, it’s abby’s chance to return the favor.

♡ pairing; abby anderson x fem!reader

♡ warnings; lot of game references, some of which include infected, the WLF, plot of the first and second game, loss, violence, etc, general angst (ish) in the beginning, but fluffy at the end, i promise, reader loses her dad in the backstory, and there’s a heavily established backstory for the reader, abby uses nicknames (my love, babe, gorgeous), reader calls abby baby, just general angst n’ fluff tbh!

♡ a/n; sooo this idea has been sitting in my notes app for the longest time, and to be honest, i’m not sure how i feel about the finished product! i don’t think it’s my best work? i don’t know. i like the idea but i’m unsure about the way i executed it. maybe i’ll revisit it at some point, but this is what i’ve got for now ♡

♡ wc; 4.5k

divider creds !

YOUR LIPS, MY LIPS. APOCALYPSE.

If someone had told you four years prior that this is where you would be today, you would’ve checked them for a bite mark.

Because they would have been losing their mind.

2034, and all the years beforehand, were years unforgettable. The person you were couldn’t imagine a life that wasn’t the one you had. Infected roamed, and danger lurked. But love prevailed.

And you were lucky to be a part of it.

You were born in Boston, Massachusetts in the 2010’s at an unlucky hour. To an unlucky life. You had lost your mom before you could say your own name, and the only biological family you had ever gotten to know in your life was your dad, who was the reason you were where you were today in the first place.

When you were young, your dad joined a group once asked to by the leader of it, a woman named Marlene. Since then, and for as long as you could remember, this group has been your place to call home.

They called themselves the Fireflies for the very bug they took the name from: Their goal was to spread luminescence in a world full of darkness. Your dad, who was an incredibly skilled medic, was roped into it when you were younger, for that very reason. And because of the group’s dire need for medics at the time, their leader, Marlene, who was an old friend of your dad’s, asked him to join, all but begged him to, really.

Your dad wasn’t one to deny anyone in need. It was in his nature, and it was why he was such a great medic. So, of course, he agreed.

But only if there would be a place for you, too.

Your dad raised you up as a member of the Fireflies, and then later as a medic, and it was because of him that you were who you were: A resilient individual, a survivor, and yet, a person who embodied compassion, just as he did.

The years went by hazily, the older you got, anyway. You became just as immersed into your work as your dad did, bettering your medical knowledge on a daily basis, be it by old books, rusted cassettes, or your dad himself. But all the while, you managed to balance work, love, and family, and, in a world like this one, that was a lot more than most people could say.

For obvious reasons, you couldn’t remember the 2010’s. Then came the 2020’s, which sped by your eyes. But the 2030’s as a general consensus were years ingrained into your brain. Full of friendship, family, and love? At times. But they also encompassed chaos, despair, and pressure, and changed your life forever.

And forever was a long time.

In the year 2033, all that you believed was true about the world as you knew it, crumbled to the ground. In a land following an apocalypse, it wasn’t uncommon to feel as if there was no way out, as if the life you lived had hit a place of no return.

Now, if only there was a way to fix it. A cure, right?

It was late one evening while you were working on somebody in the Fireflies’ medical center, that Marlene came into the room, expression serious, and voice showing for it. Once you had the person you had been caring for under control, you followed Marlene out of the center, and into a room of a pair of people, one familiar, and one not.

Your dad, and a man who would later become a crucial figure in this tale: Surgical expert, Doctor Jerry Anderson.

You didn’t understand what Marlene, your dad, and Mr. Anderson, as you used to call him, were getting at when you were first pulled into that room. All that they were explaining to you was blurring inside of your head.

Because it was unlike anything you had heard before.

Your ears were told a tale that you had heard on numerous occasions. A girl who was only a few years younger than you, was bitten. You weren’t sure how. But it didn’t really matter, did it? Everyone who was bitten turned into an animal in a matter of days. It didn’t matter how she had gotten the bite mark. It didn’t even matter where on her body the mark was. All you knew was that in a few days, this girl that was being described to you, would no longer be human. That she would no longer have control over her body, and she would no longer know right from wrong, up from down, man from woman. All she would know, was kill. Kill. Kill.

Unless she was one in a million.

Ellie Williams was hardly a human in your mind when you originally heard, but a God given chance, to fix the world as you knew it. You never believed you would live to see the day where a bite mark was a good thing, and yet, it was here, gazing you in the eyes.

Immunity. She was immune. The auburn haired girl had been bitten three weeks prior to the date you heard about this, and zilch. As Marlene had explained to you, it was like the mark was healing, not worsening. 

And in a desolate world, where danger lurked every corner, where sorrow was normalized, and where loss was ceaseless, you were desperate. The Fireflies were desperate. Hope like this didn’t come on a daily basis, now, did it?

You jumped on the prospect as soon as you became conscious of it. All of you did.

Graciously unaware that it would blow up in your face.

In the earlier days of 2034, Ellie was smuggled to a Firefly base in Salt Lake City, a medical center, where your dad, Mr. Anderson, and several Fireflies were residing. As head medic by this point, you decided to remain in Boston caring for the members of your group back home, especially in the absence of your dad and Mr. Anderson.

It’s your life’s biggest regret.

Marlene had asked that you come to the Salt Lake City medical center as soon as you could, and to employ someone else to take over for a bit. Mr. Anderson was a good doctor, but he had decided that to perform proper surgery on Ellie, he would need a few more hands. You were honored that it was you he had chosen. To you, it was on the same level as getting an award. And so, alongside Marlene, and a few more members of the group, you made your way to Salt Lake City, your hopes in your hands, and dreams in your heart.

There was a point during the journey, however, where you ran into some trouble. Infected. And naturally, you were not just a medic: You knew how to survive in a world like this, and you knew how to hold your ground.

Splitting up wasn’t usually recommended when it came to any scenario, and for good reasons. However, it was your only choice. You and everyone beside you aside from Marlene, split up to make sure that she was the first one to make it to the medical center. You remember the last thing you said to her like a movie on loop in your head. See you soon.

And it plagues your brain like the virus that grips your world.

See you soon. You wish you had never said it. You wish you had never split up.

You wish it hadn’t happened.

You did see Marlene. But she was no longer alive when it happened. Fear grasped your bones as your body paralyzed, eyes glued to Marlene’s bloody corpse on the second floor of the medical center’s parking garage.

Tears filled your eyes, slipping down your cheeks. And then, you remembered.

Dad.

You took off running, brain not even processing that you could be putting yourself in danger by doing so. Whoever had done this to Marlene couldn’t be faraway from the building for all you knew. Hell, they could even be in it. But you didn’t care.

You booked it to the highest floor, where your dad and Mr. Anderson were supposed to be, heart racing, begging and bargaining to the universe, or whatever God there was, or somebody, to ensure that they were okay. That they were just fine.

There are some days where you wish you hadn’t opened that door.

The pair of them, alongside a third medic in the room, were found by you in a shape similar to Marlene. Naturally, you ran to dad first, small, shaky hands reaching out to flip over his face down body.

But you were too late.

Your mind goes blurry whenever it goes back to recall the memory. You don’t remember much: Tears, nausea, shaking, panic. You remember screaming, loudly, at that.

And you remember passing out, before being pulled out of the room.

The second that Jerry Anderson was announced dead, all hell broke loose, and you knew, you knew, it was over. The chance that had been driving you and your family of Fireflies for the last year, was gone, and it wasn’t coming back. Unless a brand new surgeon was going to generously drop from the sky, you were hopeless. 

And it wasn’t even just that.

Because the universe had taken from you the one person you held closest to your heart. To your soul.

Dad.

You had a chance. You all did. 

And, then, it was robbed away from you.

You and your dying group made your way back to Boston knowing just that: That you were collapsing. The days passed by in blurs, each one gloomier than the last. You just weren’t sure what to do anymore. All hope for a cure was gone. All hope for yourself was gone.

In 2036, the Fireflies were disbanded by what little members of it were around to do so, and that was it. It was over. 

Your home was paradise, and paradise was gone.

You didn’t know what to do. Most of the family you had found here in the Fireflies was leaving, searching for a life away from the one you all had known for years. You didn’t know if you wanted to do the same. Part of you wanted to follow suit and leave Boston. Renew who you were. Adapt, and move on. But Boston had always been home, and by leaving it, you were leaving a part of you behind.

But you didn’t have a choice.

It was an early morning in 2036 when you began to pack your bags, readying to go. Where? It didn’t matter. All you knew was that home or not, Boston carried way too many painful memories, way more than you could bear. Marlene was dead. Mr. Anderson was dead. Dad was gone.

You didn’t see what else Boston had to give, that it hadn’t already taken away.

But just, just, when you were about to say your goodbyes, the universe, who had screwed you over in the past, clearly had different plans.

A few members had heard word, from previous members who had left the Fireflies before you, that on the west coast of the country, there was a chance: A chance to find home again, in a place named Catalina Island, a gorgeous land in California.

Risks had failed you before, and so had second chances. But, for once, you wanted to give in. You had to.

So you did.

That’s not to say that the second you got to Catalina Island, finding home once again in your fellow Fireflies, who were just as shattered as you were, that your tale was over. God, it was really, really far from it.

Because there was one more piece to the puzzle.

Abigail Anderson.

Anderson. The last name rang a bell once it escaped her lips. A blonde woman, body bruised, bloodied, and covered from the arms down in oozing gashes. Her hair was short and poorly cut, and from the way her bones were pushing into her skin, you could tell that she was severely malnourished.

Alongside her was a boy, obviously younger than her. Tousled black hair, bruises wherever you looked, and fully unconscious. In your time at Catalina Island, and as a Firefly in Boston, for that matter, you had never seen any pair of people in worse shape.

Not unless they were dead.

You remained head medic once you arrived in Catalina Island, naturally, and you had been managing that way for the last four years. So, when this woman showed up, this young boy by her side, like this, it was you who took control. It was you who nursed them, and it was you who made their scars, in a physical and mental sense, not disappear, but easier to handle. To bear.

By looking at them, by looking at her, it was like a mirror. You saw you.

Which is why you saw her.

Now, if someone had told you four years prior that this is where you would be today, losing your dad, losing Marlene, and losing Mr. Anderson, but falling for his child, you would’ve looked for a bite mark. But now, come the year 2040, where you had made a new life, one that Abigail Anderson was a prevalent part of, happiness no longer seemed impossible.

Because it wasn’t far away anymore, slipping from your fingers, the way it had on numerous occasions. 

It was in your hands.

And you were in Abby’s.

Your eyes were being covered by Abby’s large hands as she led you to a place unknown. You had to assume it was one of the several beaches on the island, sand under your feet, sounds of waves in your ears. A smile had been plastered across your face for what seemed like hours, as Abby dragged you along.

“Come on, Abby. Are you going to tell me what this is about or what?” you asked her for the second time in the last minute. You could hear her low chuckle from behind you, and the way it always happens, comfort surges into your veins.

You had learned from Abby, once you bonded over the mutual loss of your dad and hers at the same man, that once Mr. Anderson had been killed, her and her friends, a few former members of the Fireflies, joined a group named the WLF. You had hence learned that during her time there, she was commonly known as a rugged, scary person, who a lot of people in the WLF didn’t dare insult, nor disobey.

And you couldn’t lie: It was hard to believe that for a second.

You had learned from Abby, also, that her resolve began to slip when she met the young boy who she had made it to Catalina Island alongside, who you had also taken care of: Lev. To put it simply, Lev was a member of a different group, that the WLF was never supposed to come across.

Not unless it was in war.

But he changed her. He did. Some days, you could see how guarded Abby was, how she couldn’t help going back to all she used to know, which was being all but barbaric when she was in Seattle. Closed off, wary. But most days, like today? You knew in your heart, that deep down in hers, Abby Anderson was good. Not innocent, but good.

And that was enough for you.

“Just come on!” Abby chuckled as she walked, not letting up her hold on your eyes for a second as she led you along.

You smiled, shaking your head in mock disapproval. “I have work to do back at the center, and we’re not supposed to be roaming around like this. You know that, right?”

“Babe,” Abby responded in an almost firm tone of voice as her feet quit moving, forcing you to root your body to the spot. It was silent, before she pressed a series of sweet, sloppy kisses to your neck and cheeks, managing to keep her hand over your eyes all the while. She had you crumbling just like that, making you a giggling mess as her lips met your skin.

Her kisses subsided once a million of them seeped into you, and it wasn’t the island heat that had your face warm when Abby was done. “Can you just trust me, please?” she laughed, and you didn’t need your vision to know she was giving you that puppy dog look that had you falling to your knees every time. The one that you couldn’t resist if you gave it your all.

You were too easy. “Yes.”

It wasn’t long before you and Abby reached where she wanted to bring you, and once you did, she paused. She was perched behind you now, large hands over your face, the solacing sound of her sighs coming into your ears. “Okay. Are you ready, my love?”

There wouldn't ever be a day where Abby calling you that wouldn’t make your heart pound in your chest.

“More than,” you easily respond.

As soon as you said it, Abby returned your vision to you, and your eyes can’t help but widen at what you see before you.

Because you never pegged “rugged” Abby Anderson as one for picnics.

“Oh, my God, Abby,” you said more to yourself than the blonde as you slowly approached the scene. Laid out on the sand of the beach was a picnic blanket, a folded blanket, a few pillows, a basket, a few books, and playing cards.

Accompanied by a perfect view of the beach.

“Do you not like it?” Abby asked, and there’s an air of sadness to the way she says it. You turn to look at her on cue, your face one of complete, utter disbelief.

Like it?

“Like it? Baby, I love this. More than know,” you respond, meaning every word. It’s been a long time since someone has wanted to care for you. A long, long time, since you had been the receiver, not the giver.

“Abs, it’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

You can see Abby blushing as you approach her and take her face into your hands, her freckled skin burning in heat. She leans into your touch, pressing her forehead onto yours, and holding your hands in her own.

“I just,” Abby sighed, opening her eyes once more to meet yours, solemn expression across her cheeks. “I just don’t feel like I cherish you enough, babe, show it, that is. Because believe me, I do cherish you. S’just, it’s been hard for me to show you how much. All that you did for me and Lev when we got to the island. Taking care of us. Helping us find a home here. I’ll spend the rest of my life saying thank you for it.”

You can feel your soul healing the more Abby speaks.

“I know this isn’t nearly enough to make up for what you did for us, and I wish it was. But I just figured, maybe. . .it could suffice for now.”

“Abby, baby,” you let a small laugh escape your lips as you say it. “You don’t have to make it up to me. At all. I did what I did, because I saw someone in you. I remember asking for your name, and you responded by asking me where Lev was. You didn’t even care what shape you were in. All you wanted to know was if he was okay. You reminded me of me.”

“You reminded me of dad.”

You couldn’t help but sigh, letting silence seep into the air around you as your brain battled to process what you had just said. You didn’t speak on your dad as much as you likely should: Abby knew that, and so did you. Talking about him made your chest compress, and your throat would fail you, making it feel as if you were choking. As if you were helpless. As if you were there all over again. But Abby knew as well as you did, that when your dad came into discussion, it was for a certain reason. 

And for that reason, Abby didn’t speak: She hung fire. For you. For you.

“We live in a world where people combat their own morals just to survive. There’s no good guys. No principles, no rules, no laws. Anyone you come across is just as bad as you, and if not, they’re worse. But when I saw you? I knew. I knew that wasn’t you. Not anymore.”

You know you’re rambling by now, saying whatever comes to mind as soon as it does, but you can’t find it in you to care as you go on. “You want to believe I don’t know how much you care for me. But you don’t need to show it, Abby. I know you do. Right here.”

You take one of Abby’s large hands into yours, and as cliché as it is, not that you care at all, you place it over your heart.

“You feel that, don’t you? That’s all for you, baby. And it’s there that I feel how much you care about me. It’s there that I know.”

The same silence that was here before comes back. But this time, it’s not sad, or dark, or eerie. It’s solacing. It’s warm. It’s home.

And Abby doesn’t need words in order to respond.

It’s her turn to take your face into her hands as she pulls you in close. Her lips meet yours like they have so many times before, her familiar scent hitting your nose as you settle your hands onto her hips. The kiss is slow, and sweet, but passionate, and a burning desire surges inside you to never let her go, to always hold her close. To always call her yours.

You pull back from the kiss once you tire from it, gasping, Abby’s body mimicking yours as she does the same. You gaze into her eyes, the pretty blue ones that always make your heart swell, smiling up at her as you press one last kiss to her lips for good measure. “I adore you, Abby Anderson. You know that, right?” you grin.

It’s the first time you ever hear her giggle. “Me more than you, gorgeous.”

You spend hours there alongside Abby, and it’s the best time of your life. You spend time indulging in a few snacks the blonde packed for you, playing cards, and running around and playing in the sand, smiling all the way. You even get to hear Abby read to you, one of the most endearing things in the world, accompanied by the calming sound of the ocean before you. And when it came time for sunset, you sat down beside Abby, gazing on as amber, ochre, and rose faded into night.

It was perfect.

When it was nearly time for the evening to come to an end, you used the second blanket Abby had packed for your shared night to cuddle up beside her, heads rested on the pillows she had carried along as well. The side of your face was pressed into her chest as you gazed into the sky above you, Abby’s hand rubbing your back in slow circles to console you. Small suns coat the evening sky like sweet, powdered sugar, accompanied by a full moon that looks incredible over the horizon. All you could hear was the sound of the ocean, alongside Abby sighing gingerly every once in a while, or her pressing kisses to your forehead.

Not that you needed much more than that.

Suddenly, the sound of Abby chuckling in your ears snaps you out of your head, and you turn your face upwards curiously. Abby’s smile makes you smile, and it’s no surprise you began to wonder what the blonde woman found so funny all of a sudden.

“Remember how I told you Lev and I had to cross those bridges that were really high up?” Abby asked, and you had to raise an eyebrow, wondering where this was going. “Mhm,” you mumble, which is when Abby goes on.

“Well, before that, we had to get there by foot once we got out of the aquarium I told you about, the one I used to go to all of the time. That part of Seattle is overrun in rushing rapids, so a lot of the buildings around there were a lot more demolished than they usually would be anywhere else,” she explained.

“And, well. . .”

“We walked into this building, and there was a painting of these dogs playing cards. And I asked Lev if he knew our dogs could really play cards like that. Then he asked me if anyone found me funny,” Abby laughed. “It cracks me up whenever I remember it.”

She wasn’t the only one laughing. “Sounds like Lev. And like you,” you smile, and the tale makes you recall a humorous memory of your own. “Once, I was working late at the medical center back in Boston. I was doing research on this girl who had been feeling sick, but I wasn’t sure by what. Mind you, it’s late, and silent, if you don’t count me flipping the pages in my books.”

You giggle just remembering it. “It’s the weirdest thing ever, but my dad was really good at making Clicker noises. Like, really good. Sounded so real it made your heart drop. I was reading when I heard it, and I remember wondering how the hell infected had gotten inside. ‘Course I grab what was closest to me, a scalpel, and I swivel around.”

“And it’s dad.”

That one got Abby to burst out chuckling. “Oh, my God. Of all the things you could get, gorgeous. A scalpel?”

You rolled your eyes in response, playfully so. “What can I say? I’m just a medic. I didn’t carry a gun.”

Once Abby’s done laughing, which seems to take forever, she smiles down at you, pressing one more kiss to your forehead as if to make up for poking fun at you. You cuddle closer into her, letting your body relax in her embrace as a sigh escapes your lips.

You fall back into silence soon enough, eyes glued to the sky as Abby rubs her hand over your back, holding you like you would fade away if she let you go. You run your fingers through her short hair as you press kisses to her neck, jaw, and face, giving her all the love you know she deserves. Your eyes scan her features like she was molded by some higher power, and you can’t help but want to worship her, endlessly.

Not just for what she looks like. But for who she is.

“My baby. It’s like you were made for me, you know?” you whisper in Abby’s ear as your eyes pierce into her blue ones. But Abby’s head shook quickly.

You can predict what she’s going to say in response. “No, gorgeous.”

“It’s you who was made for me.”

—

reblogs are very much welcomed! <3

—

[olomaya]

More Play! Playmat

1 Oct Update: If you're having any issues with babies moving after they are picked up from the mat, try version2 (on Box) or "noIdle" on SFS. This removes the feature where babies do idle animations on the mat. If a Sim picks them up when they are idling, they can get stuck in the animation which causes the constant movement.

This is an old-ish mod I made to satisfy my need to keep a baby in my household occupied and also prevent Sims from constantly bothering them when they're perfectly fine.

The TS3 Store playmat is yet another recycled TS2 item where EA took the mesh and little else (see More Activities Activity Table). For a "play"mat, there's absolutely no playing going on. Babies just stare into the void pondering their existence.

So I created an interaction where babies can actually play on the mat which gives them something to do and also means I can leave the baby on the mat knowing other Sims won't constantly be trying to pick them up. You have to turn the mat on in order for babies to play with it. Playtime is set to 2 hours but that's tunable.

Then TS4 Growing Together came out with a playmat that actually had some cool features like playing with babies and tummy time. So I revisited my mat and added in a couple of more features to allow other Sims to play with the baby on the mat and do tummy time.

Babies will get a positive moodlet from playing alone and playing peekaboo with others. Other Sims may get a positive moodlet if they are near the baby while the baby is playing on the mat. They will also get a positive moodlet from playing with the baby. Toddlers and up can play with the babies but only Teens+ can do tummy time.

You don't need the Store mat for this, it's its own separate download. However, I'm using a couple of sound files for toddlers (mostly the peekaboo) from the Baby Monitor or Playpen Store objects so if you don't have those, you won't hear anything.

Download HERE | alt: HERE

[weebsinstash]

hey, can I have more husband and wife family dynamics with thragg? maybe more about her pregnancy or the kids' childhood/baby time?

Sure can! It's been pretty fun writing about potential scenarios where this monstrous piece of shit can actually feel love. First and foremost I was watching a video on YouTube going over this scene again and uh Comic Readers KNOW How Fucked This Man Is. um, out of context vague spoilers but, I'm assuming people asking about Thragg have read the comics or are curious about the comics but like yall Need To Know how he treats the kids of his enemies

I feel like I need to share/remind people of this scene because like, this man can be kind of hard to pin down. He's from this loveless society that sees kindness as weakness and he's like King Dickhead but there are still times when he can be quite courteous, even apologetic, sarcastic, whatever. I think at the end of the day he's just a very selfish, explosive, emotionally impulsive man but revisiting this scene was a little surprising for me since I forgot he was even like, capable of "small kindnesses" like saying sorry or whatever. Like. Is him wiping her tears while smearing blood all over her face a well intentioned accident or is he like waging psychological warfare on this like, i think she's literally 5 years old. What is the purpose of him apologizing to a child for splashing blood of her family member on her when he intends to kill her or leave her for dead in front of her dying parents anyways. I'm still trying to get a feel on this man

THAT BEING SAID, moving on, we're talking about a yandere Thragg today and thankfully that comes with perks

- it's pretty obvious but like, you are his favorite mate and your children are his favorite children. I like to think of concepts with Reader being Ursaal and Onaan's mother or even the previously mentioned triplet idea with Mark being their sibling (otherwise I'd have to invent new characters and that doesn't, resonate the same, and I also really like Ursaal actually and I feel like there's some real story potential in Ursaal discovering more of her humanity through her mother's kindness and wanting to protect her mother from her father)

-can you imagine like. I still think about the idea where you're actually Nolan's mate but one day you mouth off to Thragg and he "puts you in your place" in front of Nolan as a punishment to you both and like a month later you find out you're pregnant and, I imagine abortions are only done on Viltrum if the fetus is too weak or defective, so you're forced to carry it and you and Nolan are lying that it's his and then one day Thragg just, passes by, sees your swelling tummy, takes one sniff of you, "it's mine" and demands a paternity test. And you'd think, "oh surely he'd just take the baby" which is what you'd prefer but, no it becomes a pretext for him to steal you from Nolan altogether

-you're fed incredibly nutrient dense, protein packed, ultimate pregnancy food because Thragg wants those babies as healthy as possible. Thragg has probably had other alien kids before but these are his first hybrid or nearly fully Viltrumite children and that makes them special. New dad Thragg holding up these little absolute mammoths of newborns with all their chunk and pudge and rolls and he's just so proud, "look at how robust these children are! Surely they have inherited my strength! Fine additions to the Viltrum Empire were born on this day" and you're like half awake in bed and he just, pets your hair

-ok just. Ok just picture it like. You're pregnant and upset and so stressed out because you didn't want to be Nolan's mate after he helped conquer Earth but at least you had known him and liked him initially. You're just constantly stressed out and angry and watching every single word you say around Thragg because you don't know him or what he's capable of, but I imagine a sort of scenario where he's taking you to the doctor and running tests and procedures and just, you know prenatal checkup stuff, but the doctors are all speaking to Thragg instead of you, you aren't even being told your own test results, and the two of you finally arrive back home and you just break down crying and kind of tear into him, "I'm sure YOU have had lots of kids before but I'VE never had a baby before and I don't know what to expect or what's going to happen or- or -" and you're just bawling because, it's not a lie you're scared. You're having a baby and you're gonna be a new mom and it's entirely against your will, out of your control, and that's incredibly stressful. And this becomes a moment where Thragg actually shows some humanity by sitting you down and discussing the doctors visit with you, and that's one of the first times the two of you actually have a civil, extended conversation

Thragg thinking he's so fucking big and tough and then he sees you this little fragile fleshy untrained civillian with the big teary boo hoo eyes with your shaking hands on your little belly as you cry about being scared about giving birth to his baby and he's just, "shit I DO have feelings" and immediately feels the overwhelming need to comfort you. He'll comfort you under the guise of "stress isn't good for the children" which is true but, it's him blanketing his own concern and masking it under an excuse

-I kind of feel like that hypothetical event would be like, a footnote in your relationship. He starts treating you differently, attentive in new ways, more... emotional ways. He'll stop by while he's working on a break or something to check on with you and the assigned caretakers he has guarding you (because the very second you're confirmed pregnant you have 24/7 security) and he'll awkwardly grunt out questions about, have you eaten yet, are you experiencing any pain today, any discomfort, any new symptoms. He'll check in with your guards/nannies privately about if there's anything you're doing that he needs to know about, give tou a nice husbandly shoulder touch and then (reluctantly) getting back to work

-to be blunt part of me questions if he even has sex to create children or if he uses something akin to IVF and I only say this because of the absolute ASSEMBLY LINE he sets up on Thraxia. Trust me though he beats the kitty up with you CONSTANTLY

-I actually think after giving birth is like the ONE time you're allowed any birth control because apparently if you have too many pregnancies in too close time frames it actually sucks the calcium out of your bones and can give you osteoarthritis and Thragg wants you healthy, "for more future children obviously" which is such a lie because let's say you have your miracle birth of giving him twins or triplets or whatever but you hemmorage and become infertile or whatever. Mf is STILL keeping you around. When you think about it he technically doesn't even need you to help raise his children, he has people for that, but he forces you to be part of the process anyways

- tbh I kind of like the idea of Thragg developing some weird fucking like complex where he discovers he feels comforted cuddling you, like man gets hit by oxytocin like a fucking freight train, and it becomes him literally being unable to sleep without you in his arms. You could be in a yelling screaming argument with this man and he suddenly like, just completely shuts you down, "ENOUGH!! I require rest and I won't tolerate anymore of your childish whining!" And you could be spitting mad at him and he's just, picking you up just physically picks you up and drags you to bed anyways. Hooks his arms around your waist as the big spoon and buries his face in your hair even as you spit insults about how you hope he kills himself

Like I think I've mentioned this idea with other characters before but imagine Thragg waking up on the middle of the night IMMEDIATELY PISSED because the bed beside him is cold and he finds you on the couch, on the couch, maybe even without blankets and visibly uncomfortable, because yeah he WILL wake you up to drag you back to bed with him.

- Thragg being this warrior who literally watched people be disembowled and tortured and conquered races but suddenly you're in labor and he's in the delivery room (he refuses to wait outside) watching you literally scream in pain and he just, takes your hand and tells you to squeeze, and that it'll be alright, and he sees you so vulnerable and scared and emotional and you're looking to him for some kind of help but he can't, even with all his strengths and feats he can't help you right now, however this pregnancy goes is up to fate and the doctors and he feels like an actual visceral HUMBLING sense of helplessness that just makes him, even more obsessively protective over you

- deadass if it becomes a "he can only save one: you or the children" life-threatening pregnancy scenario, he chooses you. Says you can always try again but even if you wind up infertile and "useless" to him, he's too attached to you at this point, it doesn't matter if you "don't serve a function" or whatever bullshit Viltrumite mindset he may have had with previous mates before. You're different to him, and you're making HIM different as a person

- You're just half alive on the couch because Giving Birth is Hard and here's Thragg doing shit like personally bringing you water, feeling your forehead for any fever, monitoring your condition, aggressively interrogating your guards for extra info, sitting beside you with your babies in his arms. He lets you rest after giving birth and nearly bends over backwards

- I feel like at some point you're forced to accept a lot of real fucked up stuff and especially if you are a hybrid Vultrimite yourself and thus will be with Thragg for, basically forever, like some real "mate, do you have any cravings today. What do the children require" "ummm... at the ceremony last month, there was that... blue, little.... crab thing?" "A Florkian. They are incredibly rare" "oh... I'm sorry, I didn't know-" " -and since I observed that you were fond of the taste when you were consuming them, I went ahead and conquered their homeworld and farms have been established. I can have the slaves prepare a dish for you right away" "oh, thank you, ive been craving it ever since i ate it but i didnt want to bother by asking 🥰" "as your mate it is my duty to provide for you. Do not keep any of your desires from me"

- your children are getting trained as soldiers the second they develop powers and that's something you'll have to get used to. If your little babies get their powers at 5, they're still learning combat, getting knocked around, near beaten, "toughened up". Thragg will conceal the full extent of how they're treated from you because the way he sees it, you weren't raised on Viltrum and you're simply ignorant of their culture. He doesn't need you to accept how things are. Your kids will come home with black eyes and bruises and bloodied noses and he'll growl at you not to make them too soft as you weep over Ursaal missing a chunk of her hair because an opponent grabbed her by it and she had to break away and some was ripped out at her scalp, like. The psychological damage of asking your small child how their day with their father went, "it was excellent mother, I made my first kill!!" And then gleefully describing to you in detail how while their father was fighting an enemy soldier, the soldiers child attacked yours, and, your baby killed another kid. Like. That's the sort of thing you have to be raised with to block out of your heart. Going to hug your child who may not even be 10 years old and they have literal blood on their hands

-personal headcanon but also semi canon but I imagine Ursaal is the most competent of your twins and is Thragg's favorite. She just has a better tactical mind on her shoulders and isn't, uh. As horribly sadistically violent as Onaan. Like say your kids become platonic yandere or whatever, or, you have your own kids with thragg and the twins are separate but still attached to you. Onaan is the kid you find killing cats because he's jealous they get more attention than him while Ursaal is like, giving her father incredibly detailed reports and her own insight into what you've been up to, how you're feelings, things you say and do when Thragg isn't around

-so I know y'all see that image I posted with Thragg and his twins. I tried to censor, The Cape last time but I realized like, even with censoring the head it's still super obvious who that is, there's only one white furred creature in this entire show. I imagine after Thragg gets his Beast Drip that, once Throkk's daughter comes for revenge, she is also slaughtered, and her pelt becomes YOUR cape. Or maybe Thragg offhandedly mentions to you that BB Jr has vowed vengeance and you're casually flipping through a book, "is she as strong as her father, like if you had to rate it 1 to 10 with her father being 10 and 1 being a human. If the daughter is at about a 7 or below, Ursaal should be able to handle her, get herself a nice coat to match her father" and Thragg feels this warmth in his chest to hear you're actually observant of his/your children and their prowess, especially to hear you praise Ursaal in such a uh violent context, just casually suggesting his daughter could turn another sentient humanoid creature into a pelt to wear. This is another example of "living the viltrum life will eventually dehumanize you and rob you of certain empathies"

- I don't think you would actually have a title but could you imagine if Thragg decides you're like, officially his true mate, like the mate above all others, like you're the Empress in his little harem of concubines and ladies in waiting. I hc that your official title is something like Grand Duchess or perhaps if this is the twin/triplet scenario something more vaguely historical sounding like The High Mother or Regent Mother or, you get the point

-I still think "Reader turns out to be an incredibly late blooming hybrid" is a neat concept but I also don't know how they would miss that since during your pregnancy and all you're receiving medical care out the ass but like. Thragg personally training both you and the children as a family. Would be kind of humiliating honestly because it's kind of vaguely implied you should learn things before the kids do and if you struggle, here's Thragg, telling his kids in private they have to protect you and keep an eye on you and report any problems back to him

- thragg would definitely be training you in hand to hand but suddenly finds he can't bear hitting you in the face or hitting you at a certain strength. Like. Absolutely 100% you're gonna have a lot of scenarios where you're brawling or wrestling and he pins you and it swiftly transitions to you getting rawdogged from your high on adrenaline husband. Tbh that sex would probably be his favorite, where he has to defeat you in combat and then rewards himself. Can probably border from hatesex to consensual to noncon, not that he has a problem doing THAT to you either

- probably has portraits done of you and him. Idk do you think Viltrum has like enough art culture for portraits to be a thing? Most fascist tyrants have portraits. He would have several done: you and him, just you, you while pregnant, him and you while pregnant, you holding your babies, you and him holding your babies, and family shots as they grow up. Say you conquer a planet together as a family and one day you're revisiting and there's some sort of museum set up amd you find like a wall length portrait of, you and your children soaked in blood tearing carnage through the fire and flames and Thragg is beside you just nodding in approval, "they captured your image rather well"

- goooooddddd imagine you're just a normal human and you progressively start showing signs of aging. You start getting more wrinkles. Your body starts working in different ways, popping, cracking, aching. Onaan, Ursaal, and Thragg all notice and they're like FREAKING OUT HONESTLY. The children don't want to accept that their mother is actually going to be a speck on the timeline of their entire lifespans. Thragg doesn't want to accept that he has to let you go and you're never coming back. They all become obsessed with finding ways to keep you young, keep you alive, fuck it they'll clone you and transfer your consciousness into a new body if they have to! This is comic book world and these are obsessed aliens and they have OPTIONS

- something something "what if Reader isn't a viltrumite hybrid but is still like super-powered or a mutant or whatever and this isn't revealed until you like are fatally injured or even DIE die and suddenly you, pop back up". Cause I feel like this "close call" would drive any yandere literally insane because, what if there's no second chance, what just happened, can you still die, they can never never never never never allow you to get hurt ever ever ever again

Thragg just walks into the kitchen and you have the stove top red hot and you've just got your palm resting on it and you look to him kind of just shocked, all, "look... nothing happens... I just feel some of the warmth" and Thragg just puts his fist through your oven anyways, "you could've gotten hurt" and immediately picking you up and carrying you to some sort of perceived "safer place"

- this is like a specific scenario but like, can you imagine as a mom you like to brush and comb Ursaal's hair and you idly suggest she could always grow it out more and you could help braid it and things, but once it starts getting longer Thragg objects and says it could get grabbed during a fight and orders her to cut it but you step in and say she shouldnt have to, it's HER hair, and you two get into it, and one day Ursaal is brought home by her father and he's all but shaved her head after she had actually grown it out to a decent length. You and Thragg are at odds over how to treat rhe children and Ursaal begins to realize that many of the restrictions her father instills on her are because of a way of life she may not fully agree with, a life filled with violence and bloodshed with no room for love or kindness or creativity. She probably helps you from going over the edge too, honestly. If anything else through this life with Thragg, in your darkest places you may still find yourself thinking you have to keep going to try and help your children

- with others, Thragg is the kind of yandere where he's standing in the same room as you and you're both doing completely different things and he suddenly says, "so I noticed during the meeting that your eyes kept lingering on my mate" and without further warning he's beating up someone on the accusation they were lusting for his wife, no discussion, just fists , and he'll do shit like this a lot to the point people don't feel comfortable being around you and you're just further socially isolated

- I feel like Thragg would have some weird like fondness slash fetish for watching you breastfeed. Like, awww here's his cute little wife with his chubby little babies and you're giving them their nice milk, what a good mom, providing for the babies he put in your belly ❤️ part of me is convinced if you're a viltrumite or hybrid or whatever that you uh. Eventually wind up with a lot of babies. A LOT of babies. Do you think he would want a specific amount or its just vibes. Like you're over 300 years old and you've already got 50 kids with him but he sees you teaching one of your youngest sons how to throw a punch and suddenly he wants another

- all I'm saying is if he ever catches you self harming or attempting to hurt yourself he's gonna have a real extreme reaction. Like he finds you cutting yourself with a broken glass and you're immediately restrained and taken to a hospital, completely stripped, inspected for other wounds, and if there are any and especially a lengthy history of them, you're in such trouble. But I also think it would be extremely difficult to hide this from him since as time goes on you two are constantly having sex or he's inviting himself into your shower to bathe with you. You accidentally bang your arm on a counter or something and get a tiny bruise, this man will know about it and wants a detailed report on where it came from

- even when you guys aren't super familiar with each other and you've "just met" he's already protective and all that. Like you've just been brought into his home and you barely even know him still and he may even act mean and angry to you and then one day he sees you have a large bruise on your arm, "what is this?" ".... it's nothing, Grand Regent" "I asked you a question and you'll answer me: where did this come from" "... I spoke out of turn with one of your advisors and turned to leave without permission, Grand Regent" "And so they grabbed you?" "Yes Grand Regent" "who" "it was my fault, I-" "WHO" and the second you give a name or description he's wordlessly leaving the room and shows up again HOURS later with visible blood on him, "it has been handled. You are not to be harmed or punished without my permission or instruction"

- in some scenario where you leave the kids behind and try to run away, like... he isn't just gonna throw up his hands, "well I already got children out of her, she has served her purpose" and leave you the fuck alone. If anything this man would track you down just to tell you off for having the fucking nerve to disobey and defy him! I can picture an actively captured wife where you are constantly kept on some kind of restraint or have a bracelet or collar or even a LEAD THAT HE HOLDS and you're IMPRISONED rather than "I'm being monitored but otherwise I have my own agency". Thragg will make himself a throne that you can be chained to if he has to. He'll have restraints made that are decorative and complimentary of your features. Imagine he's making some sort of public appearance and while he's speaking he's got an arm around your waist and you're pulled up against him and meanwhile you've got. A bar gag and cannot speak

- really, truly, in a way, you become a symbol, but one of all different kinds. There are Viltrumites who see how their mighty Grand Regent treats his mate and they are viscerally disgusted (Kregg and Lucan comes to mind), like people who really start to question the society they are living in, questioning if it really must be so selfish and devoid of empathy, questioning if they really want to keep living this way and for their children and their children's children to live like this. Then there are others who see the way the Grand Regent controls his mate and see its as a sign of strength and permission to treat their own mates the same.

Mostly, though... the only thing that will take you away from Thragg is death. Until the day one of you dies, you're stuck with him, and there's basically no one around who's stronger than he is, period. You might as well cozy up and get friendly with your new husband, since you're going to be together for a long time and spend lots, and lots, and LOTS of time together ❤️

[epicbuddieficrecs]

Weekly Recap | February 26th-March 3rd 2024

8 days!!!!! Only 8 days left!!!! Until then enjoy these fics!!

Complete

doin' something unholy by BekkaChaos/ @bekkachaos (PWP, TikTok, Getting Together | 7K | Explicit): Eddie makes a tiktok account so he can monitor Chris' activity on the app, and he stumbles across Buck’s profile. It’s a lot of silly trends, a couple with Chris (previously Eddie approved), but when he scrolls to the newest video it’s one of those transition thirst traps and oh yeah, Eddie’s been sucked in, hard.

it’s the tapping on the kitchen’s floor by gayedmundodiaz (rose_megan)/ @gayedmundodiaz (Friends to Fiances | 1K | General): Eddie takes a shortcut to 'engaged' thanks to some stress and little bit of pining.

This Is No Hallmark Movie by gayedmundodiaz (rose_megan)/ @gayedmundodiaz (Hurt Buck, Getting Together | 4K | Teen): Buck's impromptu trip to the ICU has Eddie crash-landing into the realization that he's deeply, madly in love with his best friend.

You Are The One by gayedmundodiaz (rose_megan)/ @gayedmundodiaz (Getting Together | 3K | Teen): Eddie finds a drawing of Christopher's from school that sends his feelings careening off a cliff

cause you make life easy by gayedmundodiaz (rose_megan)/ @gayedmundodiaz (PWP, First Time | 2K | Explicit): Eddie and Buck are in love, and it’s so, so easy.

got love-struck, went straight to my head by heartbeatdiaz/ @loserdiaz (Future Fic, Established Buddie, Amnesia | 17K | Teen): The morning of their wedding day, Buck wakes up with amnesia.

too many heartbeats for one ribcage by lamardeuse/ @lamardeuse (Sexuality Crisis, Getting Together | 8K | Mature): Eddie's not queer.

Baby, I'm Never Gonna Leave You by I_still_dont_understand_13 (BTHBingo: Distress Call, Post-S6 | 12K | Mature): "Um... You remember that bracelet I bought Taylor?" Buck asked. Unfortunately, Eddie did. That Christmas was memorable... for all the wrong reasons. "Yeah. Why?" "It's been set off," he said, tilting his head like a confused puppy.

🔥 Ace of Hearts by glorious_spoon/ @glorious-spoon (Post-S6, Getting Together | 9K | Teen): "I've been wondering…" Maddie pauses, watches Buck make a face like he's bracing to be smacked. "What happened with Eddie? You two were dancing around it for so long, and then… what, it just didn't work out? Was the date really that bad?" She's expecting another wince, or even for him to duck out of the conversation entirely, but instead Buck is staring at her like she's grown a second head. "Maddie. I've never been on a date with Eddie." Or: the poker game was a date. It takes Buck a while to catch on, though.

🔥 I'm comin' back, don't let me go by wikiangela/ @wikiangela (Post-S6, Angst | 7K | General): Buck's post-lightning breakdown takes him on a drive through the country, fighting not to give into his dark thoughts - a phone call from Eddie might be all he needs to lead him back home.

We Were Never Meant To Be Someone's Secret by DeadlyChildArtemis / @aroeddiediaz (Madney Wedding, Secret Relationship | 3K | Explicit): Buck and Eddie have been trying to keep their new relationship secret until after Maddie and Chimney's wedding, but strange events keep conspiring to expose them before they're ready. The final straw is when they discover their hotel room at the venue only has one bed...

he speaks the languages of love by glorious_spoon (PWP, Established Buddie, Phone Sex | 4K | Explicit): "Buck. It's been almost two weeks since I've been able to get my hands on you. I'm going out of my mind. Yeah, I want you to tell me how you thought about bending me over the weight bench when I critiqued your gym selfies, or whatever." Or: while Eddie is out of town, he and Buck revisit an old fantasy of Buck's.

you were never meant to carry it on your own by artificalsirens/ @fortheloveofbuddie (Established Buddie, Hurt Buck, Smut | 5K | Explicit): During sex, Buck has a bad chronic pain flare up but wants to continue. Eddie stops him and takes care of him.

🔥 when you know, you know by asteriasera/ @asteriasera (Post-S6, Friends To Fiances | 11K | General): “How did you know you and Karen were ready to get married?” Hen blinks, clearly taken aback by the question. “I didn’t know you and Natalia were so serious.” “We’re not,” he blurts out, face red. “I’m not– I don’t even have a ring, and we haven’t really talked about it, but I was just curious. I mean, you should know since you two got married like, twice, right?” “That’s true.” Hen hums, then huffs out a laugh just the right amount of soft for this sweet pre-dawn moment. “As cheesy as it sounds, I guess that when you know, you know.” OR: After eight months of dating, Natalia begins dropping hints for their future together and Buck begins to question if this is what he really wants. One day later, a proposal is made in a kitchen over tiramisu

i'm thinking we should cross the line by chromatophorica/ @chromatophorica (Canon Divergent, Post-S2, Not Firefighter Buck | 12K | Teen): Following the ladder truck bombing, Buck can't return to firefighting, having to find new passions while maintaining his bonds with the 118. Enter Eddie Diaz, his replacement, and May's scheming takes hold. But that's fine; two can play that game.

i found love where it wasn't supposed to be by chromatophorica/ @chromatophorica (Season 2, Buck&Bobby | 12K | Teen): It’s not until the earthquake that Eddie figures it out. He’d be the same if Chris was there; probably a little more overbearing, but Chris is only seven, so he figures that’d be why. But it makes sense, how focused on Buck that Nash is right then, the similar frantic energy that Buck’s got focusing on the Captain. He’s a little surprised that the LAFD allow a father and son pair to work together OR: Eddie makes some assumptions when he joins the 118, he'd like the record to show he's not entirely wrong.

we can find shelter and peace by chromatophorica / @chromatophorica (Post-S2, 3K | Teen): Following Eddie's graduation from probie to firefighter, the gang talk about their graduations... Until they get to Buck.

like the peel clings to the pomegranate by fallingthorns/ @fallingthorns (Post-S6E10: In A Flash, Getting Together | 3K | Teen): Or, Buck recovers and doesn't quite realize what he means to others.

hey now, hey now by fallingthorns/ @fallingthorns (Canon Divergent, Post-S5E10: Wrapped In Red | 10K | Teen): Or, after returning to the 118, Eddie becomes a full-time paramedic and Ravi becomes Buck's partner. Eddie absolutely doesn't feel anything about that, not at all.

happy at home by fallingthorns/ @fallingthorns (Post-S5, Getting Together | 6K | Teen): Or, the one where Eddie sees Buck with a small kitten, realizes he’s in love, and spontaneously combusts, but not necessarily in that order.

we made it (knew that we would be alright) by honestlydarkprincess/ @honestlydarkprincess (S7 Spec, Buck&Maddie | <1K | General): Maddie asks Buck to walk her down the aisle.

this lovesick thing by fleetinghearts/ @shitouttabuck (Post-S6, Getting Together | 4K | Teen): or, buck is buck: best friend, klutz, star of eddie’s every lovesick daydream. which is to say, things are the same, except maybe what eddie’s willing to ask for

Fractals from the Lightning Bolt by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/ @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (One Shots Collection | 52/54 | 95K | Not Rated): A collection of oneshots, some originally posted on tumblr. Each chapter is individually rated.

50. Happy Holidays to the Clown Car (Christmas | Teen) 51. Maybe We're All Sluts Here (PWP | Explicit)

My Worried Mind That You Quiet by giselleslash (Christopher POV, Getting Together | 3K | General): or, Buck and Eddie through Christopher's eyes.

send a flare up in the dark (and i'll come find you) by honestlydarkprincess/ @honestlydarkprincess (Post-S6, Getting Together | 7K | Teen): Buck and Natalia are hanging out at a bar, with Natalia watching in amusement as Buck pines. She gets distracted when Lucy shows up so Buck starts drunk texting Eddie and eventually Eddie comes to get Buck, but not before Buck accidentally confesses his feelings not realizing that Eddie is there. Did Buck just fuck up or do they both get everything they've ever wanted?

you are so gorgeous it makes me so mad by bellabrady (Post-S6, Getting Together | 5K | Not Rated): Or: Eddie is annoyed with Buck for being so very kissable but his drunk self isn't the best at phrasing things.

what to do when evan buckley breaks into your house at 3:17 in the morning by oklahoma/ @sunshinediaz (Getting Together | 3K | Teen): After a night out drinking with Maddie, Buck (kind of) breaks in to Eddie’s house.

Orange Peels & Coffee by bibuckleyforever/ @bibuckleyforever (Post-S6, Getting Together | 2K | General): Eddie finds out about the Orange Peel Theory and it leads to some important realizations.

some of it's just transcendental by fallingthorns/ @fallingthorns (Accidental Kissing, Getting Together | 2K | Teen): Buck smiles as Eddie leans in and presses a soft kiss to his lips, and Buck feels himself grinning further against his mouth and kissing back before Eddie pulls away, too soon and with that same soft smile on his lips. He eases the bags fully out of Buck’s arms and turns to head into the kitchen, and Buck watches him go with such a fond smile that he feels like he’s going to explode. And then he freezes and stares at Eddie’s retreating form, his heart constricting in his chest as his brain struggles to catch up with the events of the last twenty seconds. Because kissing? Is not something they have ever done before.

that green light, i want it by asteriasera / @asteriasera (Post-S6, One Night Stand, Getting Together | 11K | Mature): Buck and Eddie hook up after Maddie and Chim’s wedding, then spend an inordinate amount of time not talking about what it means until the universe decides to intervene.

WIP

i got a bad desire, i'm on fire by diazbegins/ @evanbegins (PWP, Pet Play | 1/2 | 8K | Explicit): Or: Eddie finds that he wants Buck to treat him like a kitty. Buck can make that work.

if i need to rearrange my particles — i will for you. by dylaesthetics (Post-S6, Identity Porn | 6/11 | 22K | Teen): OR Buck joins a support app for first responders and matches with a firefighter who has PTSD and a kid who likes giraffes, apparently.

🔥 Things We're All Too Young to Know by Daisies_and_Briar / @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon S1-S6, S7 Spec | 120/? | 362K | Mature): This is a love story. Even if it doesn’t always look like it. Even if it doesn’t always feel like it. A look back on Eddie and Buck's lives up to now, and what led them to each other, interpreted from the current 9-1-1 canon.

🔥 Any Other Way by Daisies_and_Briars/ @cal-daisies-and-briars (Canon Divergent, S2 | 4/18 | 25K | Mature): In a switcheroo alternate universe, Buck spends young adulthood in the military, while Eddie, who has no idea Christopher exists, spends his twenties messing around, finally enjoying freedom away from his family’s expectations. When they both end up in Los Angeles, at the 118, some things are different, and others will be the same in any universe.

🔥 because we'll all arrive in heaven alive by callmenewbie/ @puppyboybuckley (Post-S6, Disaster Fic | 7/9 | 51K | Explicit): During a search and rescue, Eddie disappears without a trace, leaving Buck to grapple with the sudden possibility of a life without him.

[iliketangerines]

Okay okay okay okay okay imagine! Reader to pregnant and tired is like "okay liu your fucking lao tonight."

Ofc liu fucks lao. Reader gives them some titty juice as a reward.

let me watch

a/n: ah liulao my beloved

pairing: liu kang x kung lao x reader

warnings: nsfw (MDNI), hand jobs, ruined orgasm, orgasm denial, lactation kink

you sit on the bed, face grimacing as the baby in you starts to kick again, and you sigh, irritated and tired from not having any sleep for countless days

you rub your hands over your stomach to try and sooth the baby inside of you, and you lift your weary head up at the sound of the door opening

it’s Liu Kang and Kung Lao looking at you with wide eyes and grabby hands as they crawl  into the bed and start kissing your exposed skin

you raise your hands, pushing them away lightly, and they comply easily, looking at you worriedly as you tell them that you’re too tired

immediately, they go and ask if you need anything, offering foot massages and cooked soup or whatever cravings you have, but you decline

you just need a little time to recuperate, and you notice how their pants bulge as they whine and flutter over you like a nursing hen

drumming your fingers on your chin, you tell Liu Kang to just fuck Kung Lao tonight, that they don’t have to fuck you every time and that they don’t need your permission

Liu Kang freezes at the prospect, and Kung Lao looks at you a bit surprised, a cocky smile already stretching his lips as he glances over at Liu Kang

the fire-wielder is a bit flushed at your crassness, and he looks at Kung Lao before looking back at you and asking if you’re sure

you pat his hand, reassuring him that you’ll be fine, you just really can’t tonight with how tired you are, and Liu Kang nods

Kung Lao has already moved the empty space on the bed, waiting for Liu Kang to come over, and he grabs onto the fire-wielder’s waist as soon as Liu Kang comes over

the monk gives him a cocky grin and then surges forward to press a searing kiss, making Liu Kang slightly whimper at the forwardness

the both of them had been so obsessed with you over the past few months that they hadn’t really carved any time out for themselves

and now, they seemed to crave each other carnally, missing each other’s tastes and revisiting old dips and valleys and exploring the new scars and marks

Kung Lao is more bold, squeezing Liu Kang’s ass through the thick material of his pants while Liu Kang just grips onto Kung Lao’s shoulders, melting into the kiss

you watch them lazily, eyes lidded with exhaustion as Kung Lao starts to paw at Liu Kang’s clothing, desperate to have them off as the bravado from earlier slips off

Liu Kang obliges, tearing his clothes off at full force as he starts to slip into the haze, pushing Kung Lao onto his back and reaching into his pants

Liu Kang’s hand pumps at Kung Lao’s cock slowly, and the monk pants into the air, hands scratching angry red lines into Liu Kang’s muscled back

Liu Kang doesn’t mind, instead biting and sucking hickeys and marks into Kung Lao’s neck, marring the clean flesh, and the fire-wielder grinds his hips into Kung Lao’s thigh

the monk whines, high-pitched and needy, and his hips buck up into Liu Kang’s warm hand, already close to cumming despite having only started

you see Liu Kang’s hand quick underneath Kung Lao’s pants, and you say stop, squinting your eyes at the both of them

at this rate, the both of them will still have pent-up energy by the time the both of them have come, and you want them both to be tired-out

Kung Lao looks at you with pleading eyes, and Liu Kang listens to you, hand still in the monk’s pants as he awaits for your order

you tell Kung Lao to undress first, that you want to make sure Liu Kang is doing everything perfectly, and the monk whimpers but obliges

Liu Kang peels himself off of Kung Lao and waits on his knees as Kung Lao shakily undresses himself, cock bobbing proudly and slapping against his stomach when he pulls off his pants

you tell him to get close to Liu Kang, to wrap his hand around Liu Kang’s own throbbing cock and you tell Liu Kang to do the same to Kung Lao

they do so, and they both whimper at the contact

you tell them that whoever cums first will get a punishment, and then you let them go at each other in their competition

Liu Kang is hungry, and he leans forward and kisses Kung Lao deeply as he can, thumb swiping over the tip of Kung Lao’s fat cock

Kung Lao hand jerks at Liu Kang unevenly, a little too unfocused on the way he has to win and all too preoccupied with the way Liu Kang kisses and teases him

you see the monk struggle to keep his wits about him as Liu Kang expertly keeps his cool and devours Kung Lao with his heat, sucking bruising hickeys into soft flesh

the monk’s hips jerk forward violently, a telltale sign he’s about to cum, and Liu Kang doubles his efforts, flicking his wrist to get Kung Lao to cum into his hand first

Kung Lao cries out, his free hand flying out to grip onto Liu Kang’s shoulder and dig his blunt nails into the muscle as he tries to control himself

the monk tries in vain to bring himself back to reality and pump at Liu Kang’s cock, but his hand falters much too often, grip too loose, unable to focus

it had always been his weakness, and Liu Kang was fully exploiting it, biting into Kung Lao’s neck and sending the monk over the edge

his thick cum spurts onto Liu Kang’s hand, and you raise your hand and tell Liu Kang to stop moving his hand

Kung Lao whines in vain as his orgasm sputters out all too fast, tears dripping down his cheeks at his ruined orgasm, and he begs and begs for more

you shrug your shoulders and told him the loser would have consequences before you look to Liu Kang and tell him to get Kung Lao on his hands and knees facing you

the fire-wielder obliges easily, moving the limp Kung Lao onto his hands and knees, and you can see exactly how red Kung Lao’s lips are from being bitten raw

tear tracks stream down his face, and you coo at him, leaning forward a bit to rub a thumb over his cheek

you tell Liu Kang to get the lube and the cock ring from the drawer and that he can cum as much as he wants when he wants

he excitedly gets up, moving quickly and slipping the ring over Kung Lao easily, pumping the monk’s sensitive cock to get the ring to stay

Kung Lao whines pathetically, looking up at you wet eyes, and Liu Kang kneels behind him, fingers rubbing the lube between his fingers and warming it up before spreading it on Kung Lao’s hole

the monk gasps, biting his lip and closing his eyes as Liu Kang slowly stretches him open on one finger, and you tell Liu Kang to stop

the fire-wielder lets out a small whine but obliges, stopping his movement, and Kung Lao’s eyes fly open at the loss of pleasure

you tell him that you will stop Liu Kang every time that Kung Lao takes his eyes off of you, and you signal for the fire-wielder to continue

Liu Kang nods, moving his finger in and out of Kung Lao, slowly adding in another one, and you watch Kung Lao carefully

he struggles to not close his eyes out of pleasure, and he lets out little gasps of pleasure, rocking his hips back to meet Liu Kang’s fingers

finally, the fire-wielder retracts his fingers and lines himself up with Kung Lao, tapping the head of his cock along the hole before slowly pushing in

the monk’s eyes flutter shut for just a moment before opening again, remembering your rules, and he lets out a choked groan as Liu Kang bottoms out

Liu Kang takes his time to work up a pace, his fingers digging bruises into Kung Lao’s slim waist, and his eyes are half-lidded and crazed as he stared at how his dick disappears into Kung Lao

but finally, he picks up the pace, groaning into the air as the sound of his hips slapping against Kung Lao’s ass fills the air

the monk struggles not to close his eyes, to keep them on you, but you can see them fluttering close for longer and longer periods of time

you raise your hand up and tell Liu Kang to stop, and he whines but listens hips stilling and his grip tightening on Kung Lao as punishment

he was close to his own orgasm if his loudening grunts told you anything, and Kung Lao opens his eyes and again and begs, saying that it was too hard, please

you just tell Liu Kang to start again, and he hisses as he resumes his brutal pace, needing to cum so badly

the cycle repeats over and over again, just as Liu Kang is about to cum, Kung Lao gets overwhelmed and closes his eyes, making you stop their actions entirely

Liu Kang grows tired and angry, one hand coming up to spank at the plump flesh of Kung Lao’s ass, making him cry out in pain and pleasure

you know that Kung Lao’s own cock must be flush and angry, pre-cum leaking from he tip and desparate to cum, but the ring won’t allow it

and you won’t allow him to cum until Liu Kang has had his fill

one more time, you allow Liu Kang to start moving again, and Kung Lao stares at you with watery eyes and red cheeks

Liu Kang groans, telling Kung Lao to be good, to keep watching, digging his fingers deep into the creamy flesh of Kung Lao’s waist

Kung Lao struggles, gasping and moaning and crying, and Liu Kang cums with a grunt, burying himself deep and cumming inside of Kung Lao

he stays there for a while, pumping his seed inside of Kung Lao, and you reach your hand up and forward to cradle the monk’s face as he lets wet fat tears fall

you tell Liu Kang that he can go with reckless abandon, that there are no more rules, and Liu Kang snarls, immediately moving Kung Lao to an empty space and then pushing his face into the sheets

he’s ruthless in his pace, eyes feral and crazed with how many times he had been denied because of Kung Lao’s inability to control himself

the monk lets out punched-out moans that soon dissolve into pathetic mewls as Liu Kang plows him into the bed

you can’t count how many times Liu Kang cums into Kung Lao, but you know that by the time he pulls out, that they’re both exhausted

Liu Kang crawls up next to you and collapses next to you, and you put one hand in his hair to comb through his hair

you tell him he did an amazing job, and you watch Kung Lao shakily crawl over to you, head nuzzling into your neck as he begs

your other hand removes the ring, wrapping around his heated flesh, and you slowly pump him for only a few seconds before he cums all over your hand

you make sure to let him ride it out as you slowly jerk him, and he whines out thank yous into your skin

you move your hand to rub shapes into his back and tell him that he also did a good job, that they were both so good for you

you grunt at the heaviness in your chest and look down to find stains on your shirt coming from your nipples

they both perk up in interest at your sound, and you pull up your shirt to give them their reward for being so good for you

they latch on, lapping at the sweet taste of your milk and relieving the burden in your breasts, and you sigh at the release of pressure

you were exhausted yes, but they were your boys and you wouldn’t trade the world for them

[bcolfanfic]

Mollie I’m sitting on my knees with my hands out begging for the young veteran au HC’s with Gale and John’s adopted daughter 🤲🏻

(modern) young vets au - josie cleven-egan’s version™️

they talk about it once not long after they get back to the states- but that conversation ultimately comes down to deciding to revisit it when bucky’s ptsd is more under control.

and if it just isn’t something that works out for them- or bucky doesn’t feel ready ever then that’s okay too.

but bucky wants it. which takes some work, and time and tears and gale wanting to fire every single person at the sheridan VA office.

he gets there though, and gale is so damn proud of his husband.

when they revisit the kids thing they consider going to the infant adoption route but ultimately decide to go through an agency that places waiting kids in the foster system whose parental rights have already been terminated. surrogacy isn't something either of them really bring up except to bypass it.

it’s a smidge because bucky is intimidated by literal babies. just a smidge. 

they eventually get a call about a four year old little girl named josie and the information the social worker sends over about her breaks their sweet hearts. 

they both have their own shit from the war, but they’re grown men and trying to wrap their minds around a four year old having trauma that almost rivals their own makes them sick. 

damn taking a few days to call back like her social worker offers, they call back by the end of the night to ask when they need to be ready. 

sweet little josie shows up with a hello kitty suitcase at 8pm on a tuesday. gale and bucky love her instantly in a way that they struggle to really articulate. 

it just makes sense, her little face looking up at them when she’s sitting on the floor pulling her shoes off. she’s home. 

she clicks with bucky immediately, who takes to calling her jojo which she rolls with happily. but gale freaks himself out about suddenly actually being a parent and takes a little longer to find his footing. 

which makes him a little insecure when she seems more hesitant around him than she does bucky. it doesn’t necessarily help that bucky is the one home all day- and the one time he has to leave for an evening and isn’t there for bedtime poor josie absolutely flips out. 

her and gale both end up in tears by the time she’s actually clonking out, bless their hearts. 

she tuckers herself out and falls asleep in his arms. but man does poor gale feel like he’s absolutely useless having spent the past couple hours listen to her scream for daddy to come home like he’s just some babysitter. 

it hurts bucky’s heart when he’s home and gale is venting about it. he knows that man was born to be a dad and that their baby loves him, they just maybe need a little more one on one time. and gale needs to get out of his head about becoming his own father because, as bucky puts it- he’s nothing like that sack of shit and never will be. 

they spend more one and one time together, gale bringing her to the school he substitute teaches at when he’s just going in to plan over the weekend. she’s content to color on printer paper while he works, parking herself on his knees. it’s the first time she does that, and bucky beams at the photo he texts him. 

my buddy, at last! 👍🏼

the first time she calls gale daddy as opposed to “um, mis-ter cle’n” he cries. bucky cries. everyone cries. 

then raises the issue of figuring out how to differentiate between the two of them. they land on gale being daddy and bucky being papa. 

bucky jokes that it makes him feel he’s on little house on the prairie, but it’s fine. he’d let his darling jojo call him anything she damn well pleased. 

the day they make it official at the courthouse, as many of the guys as are free fly in to be there and celebrate with them. crosby brings his herd of kids and watching them run around with the newest little cleven-egan makes him emotional. 

“you cryin’ croz?”

“thinkin’ about when we were overseas. didn’t know if we’d be alive by the end of the week. but now look at our lives,” he says, swiping at his eyes. bucky smiles and rubs his shoulder, feeling choked up for about the fifth time that day. 

“it all worked out, huh?”

[maarigolds]

Since we all know how much of a shitshow umbrella academy s4 was, let's revisit the good old days. Here's my reaction to ep1 s1, which I haven't seen in like 5 years:

We're starting off strong with the sudden pregnancy scene: this is how you get the viewer's attention

Cunty shot of Reggie walking with the seven nannies and the seven baby carriers

Viktor playing the violin while all the other characters are introduced 10/10 stunning no notes

Rehab worker saying "We'll see you soon Klaus" and him immediatly overdosing and being reanimated in the ambulance. Now we know he probably just came back to life by himself!

"You got big, Luther! What's your secret, protein shakes?"

Pogo!!! I missed you, you ape butler!

Baby Viktor leaving sandwitches for Five 🥺🥺🥺

Klaus-Allison alliance going strong since the beginning I see

"Did you see Diego?" "Yeah, with that stupid outfit" "Do you think he wears that thing in the shower?" I love siblings being siblings

Ok I had forgotten about the Allison and Luther thing. Maybe it wasn't ALL great.

"Dad, could you just stop playing tennis with Hitler for a moment and take a quick call?"

"Ok, sorry, I'm just gonna go murder mom, I'll be right back"

Klaus is seriously the best

Bank robbery flashback!!!

"Guns are for sissies! Real men throw knives!"

"That's one badass StApLeR" god I miss five's voice cracks so much

*Ben covered in blood* "Can we go home now?"

Back to the present with Klaus spilling Reggie's ashes lmao

I THINK WE'RE ALONE NOW AKA BEST DANCE SCENE IN TV SHOW HISTORY

No seriously Diego absolutely killing it, Luther doing the hand-krabs, Klaus dancing with the urne

And then boom! Five is back! Honestly iconic entrance

Also Klaus trying to stop a temporal anomaly with a fire extinguisher whyyyy lmao

Five interrupting his speech about the future to look Klaus up and down and 100% seriously say "nice dress"

Klaus responding with "ah, danke"

"That makes no sense" "well, it would if you were smarter"

Also unrelated but Viktor being such a shy wallflower in s1... he's come such a long way!!!

Luther throwing reggie's ashes on the ground "probably would have been better with some wind"

Luther and Diego beating the crap out each other. Viktor: "stop it!" Klaus: "hit him!"

Also Klaus trying to protect Five and him having none of it, too cute

"An entire square block, 42 bedrooms, 19 bathrooms, and not one single drop of coffee" "dad hated caffeine" "well he hated children too, and he had plenty of us!"

"Alright, guess I'll see you guys in another ten years, when Pogo dies" Diego please 💀💀

"You know, every time I close my eyes I see a diarrheatic hyppo about to shit on my face" this was robert sheehan improvising and honestly what the fuck how does someone even come up with that

The Istanbul was constantinople fight was honestly art. This was really the moment I knew I would love this show with all of my heart. Also masterful way to show exactly who Five is in just a couple of minutes

BEN!!! I MISS OG BEN SO MUCH!!! He was baby

Five going to Viktor when he needed help. Honestly we should have gotten more of them being besties it was so good

"The world ends in eight days, and I have no idea how to stop it" and that's how you end a first episode! I'm hooked! Except I'm not cause I know how it ends 🫠

Well this is it. This show was honestly so good in the beginning. I have no clue what happened. At least we'll always have season 1.

[doe-prince]

I love Golden Shrike! I've had my own comic idea for about a decade now, but I'm wondering, for you, how long did it take you to be confident enough with your art to start your comics? had you attempted panels and backgrounds earlier and didn't put them out because you weren't happy with them yet? I'm almost done with my characters and writing but I'm worried I'm not good enough to actually start doing panels

(these are just my views and experiences! there's as many approaches as there's artists)

I was BAD when I started comics, but then I again I was a kid who didn't care if my bunny-cat-digimon comics weren't good enough, it was just fun to do. Which is what it should still be, fun and a fulfillment to you. I think the happiest an artisit can be is when they can draw like they have no audience.

My comics stopped in my teenhood when I actually wanted to make something good. I made so much groundwork but VERY rarely got to the actual page production because I thought everything should be perfect, but we all know there's no such thing. When I noticed all my attempts were doomed, I stopped making them for like ten years until I was zapped with Fuck It We Ball-mentality. And it's the best thing that has happened to me. Childhood whimsy. Make your own toys.

Did I make test pages for Golden Shrike before starting production? Well, the first page of the comic is a test page. And the second page. And the whole first chapter. I just never stopped. Not smart but it's what works for me. Starting these 'test pages' has kickstarted two bigger comics for me, Golden Shrike and Jet and Harley.

Sure I made couple of style tests for GS even though I had a clear visual vision from the start, but Jet and Harley I just started to draw without any real practice pieces, just based on couple of CSP brushes I wanted to use. This isn't very smart as you'll likely find out later that MAN, this style takes too much effort, but if you're unlike me and don't care so much for consistency, you can always simplify it on the fly. And even I've had to change it: I stopped shading after chapter 5, briefly used 3D assets in upcoming pages, now I'm gonna shrink the font a little. They're teeny tiny things for readers, but huge for me.

There's many comic authors who like to plan every little detail before getting to work, but it doesn't work for me so I can't say much about it. I have a skeleton to follow, but I fully flesh out each chapter one by one when I reach them with pages, because I like to revisit my old visions with fresh brains. When you actually get to work, you might realize some scenes aren't needed, or they'd be better changed. Don't be scared to crack some ribs off your story skeleton. Being too loyal to your old vision can often hinder you.

Starting production is the biggest monster in comic making, but after the first step you'll mow over it leaving it in your dust and create a baby you can be so proud of. I wish you, and everyone else on the cusp of their projects GOOD LUCK, HAVE FUN, LOVE YOUR WORK.

[dancingtotuyo]

Home | Part 2

Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Reader

Rating: PG-13

Summary: You and Frankie come to a crossroads

Tags: fluff, angst, family, recovering!frankie, girl dad!Frankie

Warnings: references to past drug use (cocaine), addiction recovery, struggling to cope, let me know if I missed anything

Notes: once again- thank you to the lovely @wannab-urs for beta reading!

I don’t think this is going to turn into a full fledge series but I definitely foresee myself revisiting this little family at least once more.

Words: 2225

Series Masterlist | Author Masterlist

Life either feels like it’s rushing by in a blur or crawling at a snail's pace. Layla is growing like a weed, standing as tall and as straight as a yardstick. You celebrate her third birthday in the summer, filling this old house with smiles and laughter. You wish it could always be this way.

Frankie gets his helicopter license reinstated the year before. It helps, but you still see the struggle in his eyes. Despite his assurances that he’s not touched cocaine since he got busted, you find yourself checking his old hiding places and searching for new ones. You haven’t found anything yet. He’s given no indication of using again, but you see the stress carved out in his forehead and the weight of the world on his shoulders. It feels like a when, not an if. You don’t know how to slow down the barreling train.

Then, one night he’s not home. It’s well past midnight as you sit on the couch wrapped tightly in a blanket staring out the window. You pray for his high beams to blind you. There’s a pit forming in your stomach. He always tells you when he’s coming home. The only pictures you can conjure up are of him snorting lines. The background changes, but you always see the same blown pupils staring back at you.

The night you met, you’d done lines together off Frankie’s dealer’s coffee table. The dealer was dating your roommate at the time. It hadn’t been the first time you used or the last, but you could count the times you had on your hands. You escaped the addiction. Frankie hadn’t.

It’s after 1 am when his headlights finally shine in your eyes. You stay on the couch, not eager to greet what’s coming through your back door. Frankie’s feet are heavy on the back stoop. There’s a pattern, a routine to them. Two knocks on the side of the house, three stomps on the doormat. The rattling storm door opens and then the ever present squeak of the backdoor echoes through the quiet house.

Taking a deep breath, you pull yourself up. Frankie's eyes meet yours as you flick on the kitchen light. It stings both your eyes. You search for any signs of a fading high. He seems calm, a bit shaken but not in a coked out way. His eyes dilate as they should. He catches your careful inspection. “I’m not high.”

You bite your lip. “Then where have you been?”

Deep bags stain under his eyes. His shoulders slump. He looks exhausted. “I went to get high… sat in the alley for hours.”

“Fuckin’ christ, Frankie!” You hiss, pinching the bridge of your nose. You’re not sure you can survive another relapse.

“Baby, I didn’t. I told you.” He grabs your hand, voice breaking. He needs you to believe him. “Please.”

“Why didn’t you call me? I’ve been worried sick!”

“I’m sorry. I had a bad day and-” a sharp little cry interrupts him, and then another. It reminds you of a kitten. They seem to be coming from his duffel. “Shit.” Frankie drops your hands, rushing over to his duffel.

Carefully, he unzips the bag, catching a ball of black fluff that threatens to escape. Your jaw drops. “Francisco Morales! What the fuck is that?”

He holds the kitten to his chest, fingers scratching behind its ears. It’s tiny, probably not old enough to be weaned from its mother yet. “I saw him in the alley.” The kitten nuzzles into Frankie more. “I couldn’t find any other kittens or the mom. The little guy was all alone.”

“And probably infected with fleas.”

“So, I’ll throw my bag in the dryer.” Frankie shrugs. “and pick up some flea and tick medication tomorrow.”

“We can’t take care of a kitten. We’re not prepared.”

“Can’t say we were prepared to take care of Layla either, but she’s still alive,” A faint smile graces Frankie’s face either from the joke or the way the tiny animal is falling asleep in his solid arms.

You bite your lip. Frankie is tired and worn and barely fighting off the demons, but he’s smiling, maybe even relaxing a little. He chuckles as the kitten perks back up, swatting at Frankie’s fingers.

You sigh. “He has to stay in the bathroom tonight, and he’s going to the vet as soon as possible.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Frankie winks, stepping toward you.

You sigh, letting the night’s tension out. Frankie is here. He’s okay physically. He’s not coked up. Of all the outcomes you spent hours worrying over, this one is sunshine and rainbows. As the tension eases, you feel more inclined toward the kitten. He’s a little ball of midnight fur, not a speck of other color to be seen.

“I swear to god, Frank if he has rabies-”

“Then I’m already dead.” He teases.

You smack his shoulder. “Or any other communicable diseases, I’m going to kill you.”

“He’s just a kitten, Babe.” Frankie smiles, kissing the tuft of fur between his tiny ears.

You sigh. “I’ll grab some newspaper. You’ll have to give him milk.”

“Don’t kittens like milk?”

“He’ll probably get the runs. Cats can’t digest milk.” You shoot Frankie the side eyes, gathering the necessary supplies to get the kitten settled.

Frankie is in the bathroom with him until almost 3 am. You have to admit. You almost feel bad leaving the tiny animal alone. Almost. The last thing you need is a flea infestation.

Frankie eventually curls up next to you, sighing as he nuzzles into your neck. “Think he’ll be okay?”

“You found him in an alley. One night curled up on a towel in our bathroom won’t hurt him.”

“Layla is going to love him.”

A laugh sputters from your lips. “If she doesn’t choke him to death. We’re still working on gentle hands.”

Frankie’s laugh joins yours from deep within him. It’s the kind that brings a smile, a true one, about. It’s something that’s been rare as of late.

His arms wrap around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His hands wander haplessly. You bite your lip, soaking in the feeling of his warm hands across your body as you remember how close you came to losing this tonight.

He kisses your neck. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

You squeeze his hand. “You always worry me.”

Frankie inhales sharply, squeezing you tighter. His lips play at your ear. “I’m sorry for that too.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It kinda is.”

“Addiction is a disease, Frankie.”

He huffs, never accepting that response. He feels guilty. He feels responsible for getting hooked on coke, putting you through hell and back.

“If I never-”

“If you never- we wouldn’t be here. We wouldn’t have met. We wouldn’t have Layla.”

Frankie sighs, dropping his forehead into your shoulder. You feel the hot tears slipping down your neck. Kissing his head, you thread your fingers through his thick brown curls. Something else is waging war inside him and you think he may finally tell you.

“I think I almost died tonight.”

Your fingers still. Frankie pulls back so that he can look you right in the eyes. The moonlight flickers off of them in your favorite way. “What happened?”

Frankie shakes his head. “Nothing. I looked at that alley for so long tonight. I just had a feeling that if I went in, there was no coming back.”

Your heart clenches in your chest. You’ve felt it too, the boulder hanging over your heads, like a sixth sense. If Frankie slips again, there’s no coming back, and relapse has felt so close.

He clenches your pillow in his fist. More tears pour from his eyes. “And what’s worse is the only thing that kept me from it was that damned cat.”

You thumb away one of his tears. “I don’t think that’s true, Frank.”

“I was about-”

“And how long did you sit there before the cat showed up?”

“I don’t know. An hour, maybe two. It took me just as long to catch the cat.”

You stifle a laugh, caressing his cheek. “He might’ve given you a reason to walk away, but I don’t think that cat is the only reason you didn’t relapse tonight.”

“We need to do a better job at talking.”

You nod. “Agreed.”

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to keep checking my hiding spots.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “You know about that?”

“Yeah,” Frankie nods. “And I don’t blame you either.

You stare at him for a moment. His eyes seem clearer today than they have in months. He’s warm against you. He’s home, and he’s your Frankie.

“Will you tell me what happened in Colombia? What really happened?”

He sucks in a breath, rolling onto his back. His hand travels to the meat of your thigh. He squeezes and rubs as if he’s self-soothing. “Please don’t leave.”

It comes out just above a whisper. Your heart clenches. This is why he won’t talk about it. Not because of the trauma, but because he’s scared you’ll walk away from him after. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

He takes in a long breath, holding it, and then releasing it. Then, he recounts it all until the sun is peeking through your bedroom windows.

As predicted, Layla is obsessed with the kitten the moment Frankie brings him out. You give him a bath before you let her touch him, treating him with flea and tick medication Frankie grabbed from the grocery store that morning.

Once he’s bathed and treated, the three of you sit on the kitchen floor for hours with the newest member of your family. You’re exhausted and you see the same in Frankie from not sleeping the night before, but your daughter is enthralled by the kitten as the two of them stay occupied with an old shoelace. Nap time is a long way off.

Layla throws a fit to get the kitten to take a nap with her, but you stand firm. He needs at least 24 hours for the flea medication to do its job. You and Frankie fall into sun-soaked sheets once she’s down. Your eyes drift close immediately and Frankie pulls you flush against him.

“Kitten needs a name.” He mumbles.

“Never said it was staying.”

“Ya didn’t need to.”

“You name him. You’re the one who brought him home.”

It’s quiet for a second. Your brain slips further into darkness.

“Cocaine.”

“What?”

“His name. I went into the alley to find Cocaine and I found him.”

You sit up, eyes bleary, but sleep the furthest thing from your mind now. “Our three-year-old daughter is not going to yell out for Cocaine, Frankie.”

His chest shakes with laughter, a smile dancing on his lips. “C’mon. It’s cute. She can call him Coke.” You cross your arms across your chest. Frankie sees none of it, eyes still closed. “... or Coco. That’s cute.”

You huff. Frankie still doesn’t seem to notice but pulls you back down against him instead. “Said I could name him, babe.”

“She’s not calling him Cocaine.”

You fall asleep to Frankie’s deep chuckle.

To Layla, he’s Coco. Frankie calls him a rotation of things like Coke and Cokey, his actual name, and sometimes Little Shit. You call him Crack from the way he zooms through the house at all times of the day.

Layla is obsessed with her newest little pal, always wanting him to be in her room or bed, or to take him to the grocery store, but he spends the nights curled up in your bed – usually around Frankie’s legs.

The times that little Cocaine Morales isn’t flying through your home on a fruitless hunt, he’s curled up somewhere. If Frankie is home, you can find him on his lap, or riding his shoulder. You know he’s much more than a cat to Frankie.

You like having him too. He’s brought joy into your home. It’s a joy that had become rare- only showing up for Layla’s milestones and sparing minutes. You know it’s not just Cocaine. It’s what he represents. He’s a marker for the night things changed for the better.

You and Frankie are talking about it all, the nightmares, the demons. Something that’s been absent for too much of your relationship. You both have begun to seek out help, separately and together. You don’t check Frankie’s hiding spots anymore. The deep, swelling love you’ve always had for him once again bubbles over, filling every crack and crevice of your home. Frankie is more present, more attentive. Slowly but surely, ghosts flee one by one.

Layla’s nickname for the kitten dies the moment Uncle Ben walks into your Labor Day cookout. From the moment on, she spends her time calling out for Cocaine. Her plethora of uncles are a gaggle of hidden chuckles and mischief each time. You shoot glares their way, but you can’t help but find it just as cute.

This thing that nearly tore your family apart, is now something you laugh about bundled into a cute little ball of black fur. The catalyst for things getting better.

There are still dark days, but they’re few and far between. While the thoughts play through Frankie’s mind from time to time, he never returns to the alley.

[sitp-recs]

20 Harry-centric fics to read this month

What better way to celebrate Harry’s birthday than revisiting (or discovering) Harry-centric fics? If you feel like taking a deep dive into his character, here are my suggestions: short and long stories exploring his emotional arc, inner struggles, past trauma, sexual liberation and of course, his feelings about himself and about Draco. I couldn’t resist including some Draco POV fics because I love learning about Harry through his eyes. Pick your comfort food and enjoy Harry’s HBD week!

Still Life, orphaned (M, 3k)

Hourglass Heart by @bixgirl1 (E, 5k)

It only happened once — depending on how Harry counted.

Snug by @moonflower-rose (E, 6k)

Potter can't keep his hands off himself. Draco can't look away.

Life goes not backward by @shealwaysreads (T, 9k)

Harry still isn’t used to gifts, but this one is different. A story of coming home, finding safe ground, and the wild courage of putting down roots.

fine i'll hold my breath / til i forget it's complicated by teatrolley (NR, 11k)

Harry and Draco become friends with benefits, and Harry thinks it's more complicated than it actually is.

Let's Go Outside by cryptonym (E, 24k)

Harry's done with the sofa, the hall and the kitchen table, baby.

Famous by @fw00shy (E, 24k)

It's a couple of years after the war, and Harry's bored of models now, the same way he's bored of Ron's constant nagging, bored of his Weasley monogram knitwear, bored of the same fucking grin that greets him when he hands his fire-truck red Bugatti over to the valet every night. He wants to find—well, he isn't sure what he wants. Anything but models.

Expecto Patronum by @writcraft (E, 35k)

As Draco Malfoy negotiates his feelings for the wizarding world's brightest star, he becomes increasingly attached to Harry and unravels the secrets he keeps hidden from the rest of the world.

Unseen by @jackvbriefs (T, 47k)

Harry Potter finally has the chance to leave England and its expectations for The Chosen One behind for good. All he has to do is survive one Auror training conference overseas with Draco Sodding Malfoy.

Here's The Pencil, Make It Work by ignatiustrout (M, 49k)

Harry thinks "Why is Malfoy working in a coffee shop in muggle London?" is a much simpler question than, "Are you going to accept that auror offer and, if you don't, what will you do?"

Meet Me at Midnight by @the-starryknight (T, 57k)

Harry was beginning to wonder if he’d ever make anything again when Malfoy stormed through the door of Harry’s furniture shop. Now Harry’s got an impossible Ministry commission to finish, and even less energy than ever to deal with his elusive muse.

Modern Love by @tackytigerfic (E, 61k)

Harry Potter, of all people, knows that life isn’t always fair. And no one gets to be happy all of the time. But surely there’s something more—something better—than a rubbish Ministry job, and a lonely old house, and that feeling that everyone out there is doing a better job of living than Harry is.

Harry Potter and the elusive day off by pleasebekidding (E, 71k)

Auror Potter needs a fucking break. He is wiped. He is exhausted. He probably didn't intend to put himself into a magical coma but these things happen. And who cares, really? He is comfortable in a house where he has hidden away all the shit he can't deal with.

I Am Not Who I Became by mab_di (E, 93k)

Draco left England after the trials and has travelled the world meeting wizards and Muggles from different cultures and with vastly different relationships to magic, each other, and the natural world. Now he's a fisherman in Finland on commercial vessels. Harry has been struggling since the war and has become a recluse while trying to write his autobiography.

Little Deaths and How to Avoid Them by nerakrose and dustmouth (T, 96k)

Malfoy is way too interested in coroner reports for somebody who's definitely not looking for ways to die, Harry wants to be friends with him, and Ginny wants to break up with Harry.

Who we are in the shadows by @quicksilvermaid (E, 99k)

What happens when you’re forced to become the very thing you despise? Ex-Auror Harry Potter, tossed out of the Ministry for something he had no control over, has been looking for a way back to his former life.

By the Grace by lettered (T, 140k)

Harry is an Auror instructor. Malfoy wants to be an Auror.

where all the veins meet by eight_of_wands (E, 146k)

It's the summer of 1998. The battle is over, and Voldemort is dead, but Harry still has more questions than answers. Who is he without a piece of Voldemort's soul in his head? What is he supposed to do now?

Away Childish Things by lettered (T, 153k)

Harry gets de-aged. Malfoy has to help him.

Can't Sit Still by wilteddaisy (E, 193k)

Five years after the war, Harry finds himself drawn to Draco Malfoy by memories that aren't his own. Or, in which Harry hates his Auror partner, Draco flips houses, Pansy sleeps around, Hermione is a magical creatures’ justice warrior, Blaise is getting married, and Ron is just along for the ride.

[jezabatlovesbats]

Athena P’s birthday is on May 4th, so I wanted to do something really nice for her! You can find her here as @what-is-my-aesthetic.

My first exposure to Athena’s channel was her Lore video for Sofia the First back in June of 2023, hence why I included the makeup design of Sofia’s amulet. I used to watch Sofia the First, so I was really intrigued by her deep dive into it. After watching the entire Lore series, her book reports, the Ranking Things series (I’m looking forward to the video on Ranking Cartoon Moms), her Lore Lites and much more, I’m proud to call myself a Butt Lover!

I’d like to give a big thank you to Athena for helping me feel more comfortable being an adult who watches “kids’ shows.” I often feel really self-conscious about the things I’m interested in. Back when I was 9 to 10, I used to watch Sprout (Astroblast was my favorite show from it), a channel aimed at preschoolers. But, as a teen, I often felt like I was going to be made fun of for my obsession with Unikitty, which was outside my demographic for being aimed at 6 to 11-year-olds. Was I really too old? Was I going to get called a baby? Were people going to say I needed to grow up? Did I need to cringe at things considered childish and stupid to fit in?

Well, who cares what people say? If I enjoy shows aimed at kids as a 19-year old, then I do. If I want to revisit shows I loved as a young kid, then I can. It makes me happy, and I don’t have to feel ashamed. So, thanks to Athena and her videos for helping me feel better about what I enjoy. I still love Unikitty with all my heart and soul, and I’d love to revisit some early childhood classics like Backyardigans this summer! Who’s gonna stop me?

Check out her channel if you’d like to. It’s entertaining, chaotic in the best way, and hilarious. I’m glad that I could join her Discord server, too.

Happy, happy birthday, Athena!!!

[moonmeg]

!!TW for panel 3-5// Blood

Seeing him unharmed and alive in his crib was the greatest relief. He was crying but he was alive. With a soft shush she picked the babe from the crib and cradled him in her arms.

"It's alright, little sprout, it's all perfectly fine. Mama's here.", she tried to calm him with a small rocking motion. Her eyes were fully fixated on his little chubby face and the big round tears running down his pink cheeks. It was still a bit surreal to think this was her baby. Her baby that she had carried beneath her heart for almost nine months. Cat started walking around the room while continuing her attempt to calm him. By now she had figured out how to tell his cries apart. His current cry wasn't of hunger, nor did he have an unpleasant smell about him.

"Did you have a bad dream, my love?", she asked and gently wiped the tears off his face, "Me too...". Robyn wasn't a talker just yet, but he was a great listener. While Cat had many great advisors and comforters around her, whenever she started to speak with Robyn, she realized that sometimes all it needs is someone who simply listens. Of course, she knew he doesn't understand her and that he won't remember any of what she's telling him but the idea that he did was nice enough for her to continue talking to him. So she began fighting against Robyn's cries by retelling him her own dream.

"I dreamed about your Papa. He was here and he looked so proud and full of love as he looked at you. We were all together, just as intended. We were happy.", she smiled at the image in her head. How he was standing next to her before the self-made crib he had spent months on. His hand's firm grip on her upper arm as he pulled her closer to him. His warm brown eyes carrying the love he feels for her in just one look. His proud smile towards his son, his soft touch on her cheek and chin. It all felt so real. Cat couldn't help the tear she shed upon the repeating realization that this image will never be a reality. He was gone. No matter how much in denial she wanted to be or was about it.

Caleb was gone.

"Then he appeared.", she put emphasis on "he". Cathy didn't want to speak his name, nor did she want Robyn to ever hear that name. She would rather have that name and the person it was given to be forgotten. That was his biggest concern, wasn't it? He wanted to be remembered as great witch hunter and as savior to humanity. He wanted his name in history books and an everlasting legacy. She figured, she would not give him that.

She knows she can't shut away the story attached to that person. Sooner or later Robyn would ask what had happened to his father and she wasn't planning on lying to him. But if Robyn never hears the name, even if he retells the story of Caleb's fate to friends or perhaps even his own children some day, the name would never be mentioned and slowly be forgotten. It would be "the person" and not "Philip".

Cat paused, thinking of how to continue the telling. The images flashing her mind threw her right back to that terrible day. Right back to the horrifying sight of her beloved Caleb lying in a growing puddle of blood on the floor, clenching his side, coughing...

She had tried her best to push those memories back and instead replace them with happy memories of him. It was too painful a sight to revisit again and again but she wasn't able to push it away fully.

His blood-dyed shirt, the blood strains on his chin and his arm, the pain and sadness in his eyes, the last of his strength he put into a final kiss before he exhaled one last time and lost the life in his body... she was there. She held him through it all.

She feared those moments would now be her steady company in life. They would always return and reopen the wound and she couldn't escape it.

Catherine looked back to her little son, still very much crying, as she decided to not go into detail about what exactly her subconsciousness tortured her with. Both, because it wasn't fit to tell your month old baby and because she could hardly bear saying the required words.

"I'll spare us both of telling what he did. But he did something horrible. And then...he said something so cruel about you.", she brushed her index finger over Robyn's cheek as if he knew what cruelty was said and she wanted to comfort him.

Robyn's cries lost volume but they weren't gone. He noticed he was no longer alone in the crib but that he was held by someone and he noticed quickly it was his mother so close to him. He knew her scent and he recognized her voice. Sometimes that's all he needed to calm down again: mama.

Said mama stared at him in adoration. She loved her little sprout ever since the healers told her she was pregnant. He has grown so much in just eight months and he still was. She was in awe every time anew. That's her son. Her little boy, who surely would grow into a fine young man... much like his late father. Catherine saw the world in this little life and she was proud to call herself his mother.

"He's just so wrong about you. He said you were never supposed to exist...", her brows furrowed in confusion. If Robyn was never supposed to exist, clearly he wouldn't be here now and clearly, Caleb and her would've never been able to conceive him in the first place. If, by Philip's logic, this child was the aftermath of a so-called "sin", if not a "sin" himself, surely that almighty person Caleb and his brother believed in would've not allowed Robyn to exist. She barely understood any of that topic and yet still even regarding that human belief, everything speaks *for* her baby's existence, not against it.

Robyn made a noise, striking his fist in the air as if in protest of the statement. His cries having ceased under Cathy's rocking-while-walking.

"Yeah.", Cat chuckled and validated Robyn's reply, "He's absolutely wrong.".

She paused for a moment to take the blanket from the crib and wrap him up in it. He was calm now again and it wouldn't take long before he dozed off again. So she hoped at least. Once wrapped up, she adjusted him and placed him over her chest, his head in the crook of her neck, where she was shielding it with her hand.

"You're a gift. The most amazing, wonderful, beautiful gift. And we love you more than anything else. Your father and me.", Cat smiled and turned her head to kiss his crown. She kept her lips pressed to his forehead as the clear night sky caught her attention for a while.

"I wonder what traits of yours he picked up, sweetheart.", she pulled her head back to examine her baby's face once again. There wasn't much of Caleb in Robyn's face but that's to blame on Robyn being a baby still. Of course his facial features are to grow over the years and he wouldn't have a sharp angular jaw as infant but so far Robyn has picked up more from his mother than his father.

"Maybe his hair will stay this light? Maybe his eyes are a warm brown? Or maybe it's something completely different?"

She would welcome any resemblance to her lost love and she would lie if she denied the fact she wished he looked more like Caleb sometimes rather than her when Robyn's older. She'd have her beloved's face back. She'd have his blond locks back. She'd have his beautiful brown eyes back. She'd have him back at least somehow.

Then she noticed Robyn's pointy ears - a trait definitely from her - and further spun the thoughts.

Robyn could grow into her long face and pointy chin. His dirty blond could grow into the brown of her's over the years. He could have her piercing teal eyes. He could be the spitting image of her just as much as he could be of that of Caleb.

"Maybe he barely looks like you when he's older...", she frowned upon the conclusion.

Turning away from the window, she drew a circle in the air and the curtains closed. She got back into bed, holding her infant son tightly as she still lightly rocked him back and forth. She kissed his head again. Whichever traits he picked up from Caleb and whichever from her, in the end her baby was beautiful and perfect just the way he is. He was a gift. Caleb's most precious gift. One she will protect from harm with her life. Her little sprout. Her little Robyn.

[stargazer-sims]

In The City of Love

Belle: Excuse me!

Belle: Hello, parents! Is that necessary?

Davian: As a matter of fact, it was.

Félix: We are in the City of Love, after all.

Belle: Yeah, City of Love, not city of lust.

Davian: Hey! How do you know what lust is?

Belle: You and Félix are my parents. Do you think you really need to ask that?

Davian: No, seriously.

Belle: I'm ten years old and I know how to read at a university level. I find out stuff. Plus, you should visit the trailer park sometime. You can learn a lot, hanging out with Dylan and Nadim.

Davian: No thanks. I had enough of the Willow Creek trailer park when I was a kid. And now I'm not sure I want you visiting Junior any more when he's over there with Dylan and his boy toy.

Belle: *giggling* Boy toy.

Félix: We can discuss all of this when we're back at home.

Davian: Right. This trip is supposed to be all about fun.

Belle: And minimal embarrassing public displays of affection.

Félix: Belle, the last time Davian and I were here was when we were expecting you. We have a lot of nostalgia for this place. We'll try to restrain ourselves, but a few public displays of affection may be inevitable.

Belle: I thought you went to Tartosa while you were expecting me.

Davian: We did, at Christmas, but we came here in February. I got a contract offer that I couldn’t turn down, and Félix didn’t want me to leave him, so…

Belle: But, my birthday is in March. You must've been like, super pregnant or... whatever it's called when you have a science baby. It couldn't have been much fun to be here.

Félix: I had a few good days, although I'll admit it would've been more fun if I hadn't been so tired and uncomfortable. I'd say 'super pregnant' is an accurate description.

Davian: So much so, he actually needed a note from a doctor to say it was okay for him to travel.

Belle: Really?

Félix: We were here during the week of Valentine's Day, and you weren't supposed to be born until the eighteenth of March. We thought there'd be plenty of time between our trip and the date my surgery was scheduled for.

Davian: Except there wasn't. We were home for... what? Maybe less than a week before you started having problems?

Félix: Which were entirely my own fault, in retrospect.

Davian: You weren't going wild at the love hotel by yourself, you know, and we weren't exactly taking it easy when we got home either. I'd say it was partly my fault too.

Belle: Eww! Love hotel!

Félix: The important thing is, we got home safely and it all worked out in the end. We may have had you a little earlier than we anticipated, Belle, but I promise nobody was complaining.

Davian: The moment I saw you, I said to myself 'that is a princess'.

Félix: He did, honestly. The first words out of his mouth when he saw you were, 'our princess is here'.

Belle: I'd rather be an archaeologist than a princess.

Félix: We know, but you'll always be a princess to us. Besides, princess and archaeologist aren't mutually exclusive.

Davian: We're going to make this trip as much about you as it is about us, okay? We want you to have a fun time and learn a lot. Félix and I have some memories to revisit here, but we want to make a bunch of new ones with you, too.

Belle: I don't mind if you want to revisit old memories or whatever, but can you promise me one thing?

Davian: What is it?

Belle: No going to the love hotel, okay?

Davian: And leave you alone at our rental? I promise that's totally not going to happen. You don't have to worry.

Belle: Good.

Félix: Speaking of the rental, we should check the address and see if we can find it before dark. If it's not too far, I think it'd be nice to walk there.

Davian: Sounds good, and if it is far away, maybe we can hail one of those pink taxis.

Belle: Ooh pink taxis? Even if we can walk to the rental, we have to ride in a pink taxi at least once before we go home.

____________

BONUS: Here is their rental house!

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.134 Parenting

Once Desiree was satisfied, I placed her in the bassinet, snapped a picture to send to everyone, and called Mama. Naturally, she thought I was still at the hospital, so I told her our heroic tale of home birth. It upset her at first because anyone in their right mind would have been concerned about giving birth unassisted. But in the end, she said she was proud of me. Dad was still over there, so she told him of his new granddaughter, and he came over immediately. Sophia was supposed to be resting, but was much too excited to sleep and eager to spend time with Desi. I mean, she was probably the best baby ever born, so I didn't kick back too much when she appeared at the door when Dad arrived. She promised to go to bed as soon as he left.

"She's beautiful, son. I'm really happy for you both."

"Thanks, Dad."

Knowing Sophia couldn't sleep because she wanted to hold our daughter, I probably should have given Desi up, but I couldn't part with her. At least not yet. I asked if Dad wanted to hold her because it was the right thing to do, but I was glad he declined. He, like me, was skittish about holding her, even after having two children of his own. The more I held her, the more comfortable I became. At that rate, I'd be a professional newborn handler in no time.

"When you were a toddler," he began, "I was still afraid of you. Of course, you were bigger and less fragile then, but I had never really been around children before and didn't know what to do with you."

Looking back, I saw evidence of that all the way through our childhood. He was naturally a laid-back guy, but his parenting style was also very hands off. He basically let us do whatever we wanted, only stepping in when it was critical or we came to him. Mama was kind of passive too, but she checked in with us from time to time to see how things were going and how she could help. What kind of parent did I aspire to be? I certainly couldn't see myself as a helicopter, but I think I'd like to be less be passive. Only time would tell what I'd become.

"I learned quickly how fickle children are at that age and was deathly afraid of you having a tantrum, so I tried to talk to you nicely when it was time for a bath or whatever I needed you to do. You thought it was funny and would mock me."

"Really?? I did that?"

"Sure did."

"I bet you were so adorable," Sophia said.

"He was. They both were. And now you both have your own. I wish I had more time to see them grow up, but I'm happy just knowing they exist."

"Don't talk like that, Dad."

"I'm old, Luca. I won't be around forever."

Sad doggie whimpers saved me from that conversation. It's not that I didn't realize my parents had gotten on in age, but I didn't want to discuss it yet. I was still high from becoming a parent for the first time. He could burst my bubble after my birthday, and he better not die before then.

"What's the matter, Rosie? Did you hear the baby? You have a little sister now. Come here. Let's get you introduced."

I put down Des, picked up Rosie, and brought her to the bassinet.

"This is Desiree. She's gonna be your new playmate soon, and I'm gonna get you and Kooper some treats so you can play with her for a really long time."

She licked my face, so I guess she forgave me. I hadn't completely neglected them, but she and Kooper definitely got lost in the shuffle.

"We still love you and Koop. You were our first babies! But this baby is gonna need a lot of help, so don't think I don't love you if we don't go jogging every day, okay?"

"You're such a good daddy," Sophia said.

I think I detected a hint of flirt in there, but I kept that thought to myself. Maybe when she wasn't struggling to keep her eyes opened I'd revisit, heh. She excused herself to go to bed a few minutes later. Desiree began fussing again, but I didn't have to guess what she needed that time; I could smell it. Dad had gone downstairs, probably to see what he could do around the house to help, so it was on me to get Little Miss Lady cleaned up. It was surprisingly not that hard. At least I hope I did it right.

[basedkikuenjoyer]

Today I wanna take a break, because it is Pride Month and we lost an icon sadly far, far too quietly. Made me realize I don't think I've really heard much about Lynn Conway in queer circles for a long time. And honestly? That's fucked. If anyone deserves to be held up as a trans luminary of the past century it's her. I wish I had the knowledge of computer chips to fully explain how landmark her contributions were in her career, but truth is her story as a trans woman is what's truly fascinating.

If I have the details right, tried to transition during college in the 50s but ran into hurdles. Then got a job at IBM, fired when she sought out Harry Benjamin (another important name y'all need to quit glossing over) and was one of his patients in the late 60s. Transitioning before 30 and if I may say, being quite attractive...even when I was coming out in the 00s the general wisdom was if you could go "stealth" and just start over you should. Which Lynn did. Then went on to make some groundbreaking waves in computer chip design and really had this hellacious 30-year career as just a woman breaking barriers in tech. Keep in mind no one knew she was trans, ain't no way she'd have ended up working with Reagan's DoD on some Cold War defense tech if that was public knowledge.

Then at the end of her career, a new chapter began. Got out ahead of realizing some people were about to make the connection to her time at IBM so came out publicly through a website I remember being a pivotal find in my own journey. It was one of the best collection of resources out there and her story was one of the first ones I saw where you could transition and not be stuck in some small box forevermore because of it. You can shrug off the blowback and get on with your life. Ever heard of Blanchard & Bailey, the Autogyneophilia guys TERFs love to quote? Conway was a prominent academic speaking out against their dodgy methodology as well. Her lengthy and through takedown of that Man Who Would Be Queen book is fuckin legendary. Honestly, if you can find the old archived pages from her website it's worth a read. We don't really have many stories of like, a long life after transition without also being a mainstay of the community the whole time. There's a lot she'd get roasted for today, but generally for the wrong reasons because holy shit is my revisit showing so much honesty and stuff I've needed to hear at a similar point. We get so focused on the actual coming out and exploring and transitioning phase people miss that's just the baby steps on a lifelong journey. I miss how straightforward this old guard could be. In my experience queer youth today love it but it will absolutely enrage the late-blooming final wave of my own generation who lack so much perspective on how little the difference makes at this point.

I know it's fun to raise up queer names who were outlaws and radicals, everyone loves the (false) story of Marsha Johnson throwing the first brick at Stonewall more than her tireless decades of boring organizing. We like our fabulous and festive faces, but honestly...younger generations of trans folk should probably pay a little more attention to stories like Lynn Conway's where we actually do sometimes get to just have a "normal" and highly successful bulk of our lives after the identity struggle. So far ahead of her time it took until my own generation for us to see the whole having an experience more like hers.