#or maybe just men are evil... many such cases

[ilovemylawyer]

i love the EVIL part of EVILIVE btw. i find fucked up, unnameable unobtainable obsessive life-ending love extremely romantic and delicious. it’s the way things are in the evilive world! things are messy! and bad! and i love it! i (at least currently!!!) do not plan on writing anything pure fluff happiness because that is not something that i wish to extract from this show.. it isn’t there! i have no interest in erasing these harsh realities of evilive in my fics. happy lalala is not fun for me to write, and i won’t do it without a heavy underlying feeling of uneasiness and uncertainty and dread and despair and inevitable death. i like pain :/ and half of this couple is one of the most greedy selfish motherfuckers i have ever come to know and he’s oh so beautiful. so i am sorry if you finished evilive and wanted some kind of fix-it happy gays but i am NOTTTTTTTT the guy for that.

[undreaming-fanfiction]

I am massively busy with work and finalizing my Big Bang, but this idea just won't leave...

Steve and Eddie are both actors. They're in their mid thirties, well established, but they never starred together in anything. Steve tends to be cast in the same type, the dumb but pretty love interest, Eddie has lots of indie and disturbing movies under his belt. But this time, they both landed something big.

They get cast in the new Batman movie.

Steve is, of course, Batman. He insists on doing his own stunts. He refuses to get dehydrated for his shirtless scenes because he knows how damaging it is to both young men and women alike, he's not going to contribute to shitty expectations. The director (Dustin, duh!) sees something in him other directors never have - a potential for depth, for internal turmoil. He gives Steve the chance to prove himself as an actor and Steve pounces on it.

He's still very hot.

Eddie is cast as the Joker. He is a fan of the comics and scoffs at how absurd and deranged the character is becoming. He gets hired because he immediately says he doesn't think the character needs to rely on cheap tricks and shock value to be terrifying. Cutting off his face? Not cool. He suggests to play the Joker according to one of the older comics he has - one where the Joker is actually absolutely sane, but hides it to never be held accountable for his actions. The only person who ever saw through his ruse was Dr. Harleen Quinzel. Joker took care of that issue very quickly.

The chemistry between Steve and Eddie on screen is insane. They go toe to toe, it's impossible to look away when they interact. Eddie utilizes his bright smile to the maximum, tweaking it just right within moments so it becomes unsettling. The first time he laughs, Steve gets goosebumps.

Steve encompasses Bruce's loneliness so well Eddie's heart breaks for him. Dustin finds him in the trailer, giving himself gentle slaps over the face and muttering "you're evil, damn it, you don't want to comfort the Bat!!".

Batgirl (Robin) and Harley Quinn (Chrissy) find their slow descent into love hilarious. They all become good friends on the set.

Hopper, an acting veteran who plays Commissioner Gordon, grasps Steve's shoulder after an intense fight scene and mutters: "Good job, Steve, but maybe don't stare at his lips so much?"

Robin doesn't give him the same courtesy and once Dustin yells "Cut!", she screeches: "NOW KISS!"

The movie is a hit. People love the cast and the story, some of the OG fans complain as they always do, but the ratings are great, there are many interviews, panels, all of that.

And of course, there's gossip about Steve and Eddie being a thing, which enrages the macho Batman fanbase. Their Batman isn't gay!

But the rumors quickly disappear after an award ceremony where Eddie is nominated for the best supporting actor. He wins, of course. And as he gets up to accept the small statue and deliver a speech with enough "fuck"s to give the censor a headache, he drags Steve up and kisses him in front of the whole world.

A week later, Steve and Eddie are together in front of a camera again, answering questions in an interview.

The host asks: "What do you say to those fans that are disappointed, who say that their Batman isn't gay?"

Steve just snorts, pulls Eddie closer and answers: "They're right. Their Batman isn't gay. But he's definitely bi."

Also the comic story I'm mentioning exits and is short but fantastic. 10/10 recommend.

Oh also. The first spark happens when Steve sees Eddie's hair and blurts out: "Please tell me they're not making you cut it shorter. It's too gorgeous for that."

Also because people were asking about the comics - it's Batman Black and White - Case Study and it can be found on Tumblr HERE

[varpusvaras]

Winnick will come this close to writing a good, rightfullly angry character with BPD/CPTSD and ruin it by making him his conception of "a dangerous psychopath" because dc's understanding of mental illness begins and ends with the joker.

I like that Jason was angry i'm not gonna lie I enjoy the "bad victim who doesn't accept that they were a necessary sacrifice, who doesn't think what happened to them is something they should be expected to tolerate, like fuck your greater good, you weren't there, it isn't worth this." I think even looking at Jason's past before getting adopted he has reason to be angry, like he is poor af and starving and he had to take care of his mom and his dad is in jail because he couldn't see another way to provide and he gets trafficked -he has so many reasons to be angry. And he's not, and I love jaybin, but I think there are so many ways and things he can be angry about without it feeling classist. And I love that he can't emotionally regulate, that he has so clearly BPD/CPTSD because why the fuck would he not, have you seen his life (and that's not even counting the csa hc, which i am because willfully and consistently implying csa and then not addressing it/denying it feels like feeding into a culture of taboo that ruins lives and getting away with covert victim-blaming at the same time). The issue is that they lack finesse or any kind of understanding of anger. The think anger is a personality trait. They think angry = evil. They think being angry means you're violent at and about everything, that you shoot indiscriminately even though you've known better since you were a kid, that you're suddenly treating women like shit (which, wtf seriously) which okay maybe THEY treat women shitty for no reason when they're angry, but that'd be more of a them problem I'd say. Their portrayal of anger is classist because their conception of emotions hasn't evolved since fucking Descartes. Think anger = bad = poor and not only doesn't it occur to them that this is classist, they so instinctively assign moral value to the concepts of poor and angry that they don't realise it and just conceptualise poor=angry and end up with incredibly classist portrayals of anger. You can write characters that are mentally ill and violent without being ableist, you can write characters that are poor and angry without being classist, but that requires a level of respect for people, introspection, humility willingness to learn about the sensitive topics you are exploring that is simply not accessible to Winnick and so many other dc writers.

And here comes my very hot take that I'm too cowardly to say off anon: the pit shouldn't have healed Jason's malnutrition. Like, outside of canon I love big jay, I love big men who are emotionally vulnerable and need comfort etc. but in canon? It just comes off as another way to adultify Jason, and make the horrible things that happen to him acceptable. Jason "sleeping with Talia because he is fucked up about Bruce" because they both look like adults until you realise this is actually just rape and you can't put any responsibility of Talia taking advantage of the kid under her care (very ooc of course) on the child himself. Jason fighting Mia looking like a 40 years old beating up a teenage girl when they're the same damn age. Fucking Ethiopia 2.0. And Jason's murders as well, for the matter. Like don't get me wrong the duffle bag of doom is an iconic villain move, but it's just that: a massive shock effect and a "psychopathic" move. We shouldn't need Jason beheading anyone to be horrified, because just one murder, if written correctly, should be enough. A child killing someone is a terrible thing. A child being put in a position where they think killing someone is the only solution to ending suffering (thinking about the Garzonas case) is a terrible thing. A kid trying to kill his murderer (because fuck his death has to matter it has to) and only begging to be allowed it should be horrifying. Jason, with his unhealed malnutrition making him look a couple of years smaller and younger than his physical age, should look his mental age. It should be impossible to look away from the reality of what he is: a traumatized teenager who wasn't allowed to grow up. And he has a gun. This is already a horror story.

Make utrh!Jason a villain if you must, but have the guts to sit with it. Don't shove the fact that he was a hero and a victim under the rug because it's uncomfortable. Sit with the unease that sometimes someone is doing something bad and is suffering a lot, and maybe they're doing the bad thing because they don't know how to survive the suffering, and suddenly it's not easy separating hero from villain from victim. Your imaginary lines in the sand will not protect you from the crude reality of the complicated and shitty situations you have chosen to depict; you open the can of worms now you can't look away and let the worms roam free just because you're squeamish.

How does it feel to be psychic and be in my head and write part of my essay on Jason for me? Fuck, I have so much to say about this but I need a good night of sleep to formulate it correctly. Look for a longer answer tomorrow, but in the meantime, everyone sit down and look at this and look at it hard. Thank you.

[mirkwoodshewolf]

Road trip; Winchester brothers x sister reader

*Author's note*

This was a request submitted to me anonymously so to the anon out there I hope this story finds you and that you like it. Took me a while but I finally came up with a cute little fic. However it maybe less of a raodtrip roadtrip fic and more of reader bonding with her brothers over a road trip but I hope you and all the readers out there like it nonetheless.

Taglist:

@queen-paladin

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@psychosupernatural

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@remussl0vers

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I was currently reading up on some books that the Men of Letters had in their library about Celtic mythology.  After that last selkie case, I wanted to read up more on Celtic lore and see what else there is out there since the personal Winchester knowledge is severely lacking in that department.

“Yo (Y/n)! Meeting room now.” I heard Dean’s voice call out as I heard a knock at the table I was sitting at.  I jumped in my seat and I said.

“Jesus Christ Dean, you know how I feel when you sneak up out of nowhere and just yell at me. Especially when I’m reading.”

“I swear you and Sammy with your books.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“Wouldn’t kill you to learn something new.” I muttered under my breath as I closed the book.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, nothing. C’mon let’s get going.” I walked out of the library with Dean following behind me and as we came to the meeting room, Sam sat at the globe table his laptop closed.  I took a seat next to him and whispered, “Any idea what he’s planning?”

“I have no idea.” He whispered back.

“What I have planned is no need for concern nor whispering now shut up you two and listen up.” Dean said as he took the seat across from us.  “Now look, we’ve been at this hunting thing for a long, long time. We’ve been everywhere across the country more times than most people take their entire lives. But when was the last time we gave ourselves a little vacation?” Sam and I looked at each other perplexed.

 “A vacation?” asked Sam.

“Yeah. A vacation Sammy. You know the thing that people do when they want to get away from it all—”

“I know what a vacation is Dean. But you know what we do isn’t a normal 9 to 5 job, right?”

“Yeah. But look at what Jody and the girls have been doing. They make time for themselves every now and then. Especially after finding Kai’s evil twin.”

“Question though Dean,” I asked slowly raising my hand. “Why bring this up now?”

“Haven’t you guys noticed that ever since we beat God at his own game, there hadn’t been as many cases to go to lately. Besides that selkie case, the last real case we fought in was like what….two, three weeks ago?” Sam and I shrugged in agreement. “So really, what’s the harm in the three of us getting out of this dusty old bunker and seeing the sights for real this time.” A bark soon came up and our newest family member Miracle came running up and Dean knelt down and gave Miracle some scritches.  “See? Even Miracle agrees with me.”

“You know it still seems weird to see you so affectionate with dogs. All these years and you finally allow us to have a dog.” I stated.

“I never hated dogs. We just couldn’t afford to keep one since you know we were always saving the world one apocalypse at a time. Now, this big guy can stay with us, ain’t that right boy?” Miracle let out a bark.

“He is right. I mean it’s been two days since the selkie incident and usually we’re out the door with another case or a new lead on our big bad of the year. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to get out for a while.” Sam said.

“(N/n), even if you say no you’re still coming with us cause we’re the oldest here.” Dean tried to out argue me but I told him.

“Did I say that it was a dumb idea? All I said was this was out of character for someone like you. But I wouldn’t mind getting out of here and seeing the open road without a constant threat breathing down our necks.”

“Then we’re agreed. Pack only the essentials and meet me outside in 10 minutes.” Dean and Miracle soon headed up the stairs and once the door to the bunker shut I said to Sam.

“He definitely has a destination planned out.”

“Oh yeah. But let’s just pretend we don’t for his sake.” Sam suggested as he gave me a gentle pat on the shoulder before heading to his room while I headed to mine.

We put out stuff in the trunk and I got in the back with Lucky at my feet while my brothers took their usual spots up front.  Once the doors closed Sam had asked Dean.

“Dean, since we’re going off the books for this particular trip. Do you think that maybe just this once you could lend the music control to someone else?” Dean gave Sam his raised brow and ‘bitch please’ face.

“What’s the number one rule in the car (Y/n)?”

“Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole and piggyback rocks out.” I said petting Miracle’s fur.

“And this is why one day she’ll be taking your seat cause she doesn’t complain about my music choices.” Dean started Baby up and her engine let out that beautiful purr before Dean drove her out from the garage and we set out on the open road.

I’ve been raised out on the open road.  Being a hunter meant never really settling down in one place for too long.  I could name every interstate and exit ramp by the time I was 10 years old.  But here and now, this was different.  Seeing the trees whiz by, the clouds that spread across the Blue sky, the sun shining off Baby’s hood and rearview mirrors, this trip felt—comforting.

Soon coming through the radio was Kansas infamous song ‘Carry on my Wayward son’.  When the acapella voices of the band came through the speakers of the car, Sam couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

“C’mon Sammy! You never go wrong with Kansas. This is practically our theme song.”

“Our theme song?” Sam asked.

“Yeah. Now suck it up and take it all in.” as Dean and I began jamming out to the song, him playing the drums on the steering wheel while I did my air guitar before the two of us began singing.  Our voices drowned out by the volume of the song but it didn’t deter the passion that Dean and I had as we would belt out the song.  Eventually Sam got in on the action as he’d play the piano part on Baby’s console.  When the guitar solo came up, Dean proclaimed.  “Take it (n/n)!” I then proceeded to copy the famous guitar solo as my brothers cheered out to me and the three of us closed out the song in a high note.

“What’s say about making a youtube cover of that song?” I suggested.

“Might not be a bad idea. Never too old to learn to play the guitar.” Dean said.

“I don’t think I’m cut out to be a youtube star.” Sam said.

“Sam, do I need to remind you of the time we went to that world where our lives was a tv show and all the fanfics my actress had both read and written for being a tumblr star as well as an actress?”

“No need to bring that up thank you (Y/n).” Sam stopped me as he held his hand out.

“You guys getting hungry?”

“Baby sis you always read my mind. There’s also a rest stop around the bend from the food exits. We can have ourselves a little picnic there and give Miracle some exercise, what’d you say boy?” Miracle let out a bark of agreement.  About a quarter mile later, Dean took the exit and we pulled into the first fast food joint we saw and ordered our meals before driving towards the rest stop about a half mile down from the restaurant.

Dean parked the car and once the engine stopped, we all came outside and stretched ourselves out after a few hours of driving.  I leashed Miracle up as we walked towards the picnic tables up ahead and sat down to eat our food.

“But in all seriousness Dean, where exactly are we going? And will we be getting a motel room to at least sleep in tonight?” I asked.

“My dead little sister, sometimes you just gotta take in the journey and not worry about the destination.” Dean responded as he bit into his double burger.  I dipped my fries into my chocolate milkshake and Sam said.

“I still can’t understand why you do that. Everytime you get a milkshake or a frosty you dip your fries into it.”

“The perfect balance of sweet and salty, as well as hot and cold Sammy boy. Don’t knock it till you try it.” I said dipping three fries into my shake and stuffing them into my mouth.  Miracle laid his head across my lap as he looked up at me with those puppy dog eyes of his.  “Oh no mister. Chocolate will kill you, but I can give you this.” I tore a portion of my chicken sandwich and fed it to him after telling him to wait and be a good boy.

“(Y/n), don’t feed him human food.” Sam reprimanded me.

“Apparently you don’t know what Dean does in the mornings after finishing his breakfast.”

“(N/n) we had a deal don’t you tell him.” Sam let out a disgusted groan.

“Seriously Dean? You let him lick your plate before putting it into the sink?”

“It gets washed in the end.” Dean tried to reason while I stood up and gathered up my trash all the while picking up Miracle’s leash to take him for a little walk around the back so that he could do his business.

“I swear I love stirring the pot to get those two arguing over the dumbest things. Guess Gabriel rubbed off on me in more ways than one.” I said to Miracle as I tossed my trash into the trashcan before we entered the trail behind the rest stop.  Miracle started off by peeing at the first thing he had sniffed which was a sing pole for the ‘please clean up after your dogs’.

I walked him through the forest trail and he practically peed at almost every tree and bush we came across.  As we walked my mind trailed back to all the people that we had lost, especially Cas, Jack and Gabriel.  Hell Gabriel was my Guardian angel, who would’ve known at the time but it did make sense.  Whenever he made an attempt to mess with my brothers, he always made sure to never have me be harmed or be involved in any insane scheme he came up with.

The day he was killed in the apocalypse world when we tried to get Jack and Mary back was the day I was most devastated.  Right until the end, he made sure that I didn’t get hurt and ultimately sacrificed himself to Michael so that I and my brothers could escape and get out alive.  I was so lost in my thoughts that I didn’t even realize that I had bumped into someone causing the two of us to fall to the ground.

Miracle had came up to us huffing and whimpering his tail wagging and I immediately got off the stranger and said.

“I am so sorry I should’ve paid attention to where I was going I didn’t mean to…”

“No, no it’s completely my fault. What I get for just standing in the middle of the trail.” He responded.  When I got a good look at him, I almost felt my heart go boom.

He was pretty cute.  Dark almost black curly hair that framed his face in both an adorable yet mysterious way.  He had hazel eyes that held both wonder yet mischief behind them.  His clothing wasn’t anything too extravagant, a Bob Dylan t-shirt and dark pants and he wore a few rings on his fingers and a metal bracelet as well as a watch.  And a jawline so sharp and strong it was unfair that someone around my age could look this handsome.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna exchange licenses or proof of insurance?” I finally spoke up trying to keep the blush I was feeling rising at my cheeks at bay.

“No, no, the fault was entirely my own.” He said with a charming smile.  Oh Christ even his smile was to die for.  Miracle then went up and gave him a sniff as he let out some happy whimpers.

“Miracle no down!”

“It’s fine I��ve got a dog at home just like this one and she’s an affectionate little girl. Although she’s not so little anymore even though she thinks she is.” He said laughing as he gave Miracle some scritches on top of his head.

You know how dogs can be trained to detect cancer or find weapons or drugs at airports.  Well my brothers and I have been training Miracle to detect whether someone was human or not and he always let us know by either growling (Werewolf, vampire, demon, wendigo, shapeshifter), lay down (djinn, vetala, reapers, witches), or to stand completely still but firm for ghosts, ghouls and everything else.

And with how he was acting, I knew I could relax since Miracle would never react this way towards a normal human being so I knew this boy could be trusted.

“What’s her name?”

“Dixie. Found her dumped at the side of the road when she was just a puppy.”

“I swear, humans can be such monsters.”

“Tell me about it. But with time, food and water, she was acting like a normal puppy should and has been for the past 10 years now. How long have you had Miracle, you said his name was?”

“Yeah, we’ve only had him for a year now but we didn’t get him as a puppy. Was left behind at a gas station.”

“Aww poor guy, well lucky for him he found a good family to take care of him.” We stared into each other’s eyes for a moment and it felt like my entire world was flipped upside down.  I awkwardly cleared my throat and said.

“Well we uhh—we better get back. My brothers will start to think we’ve been kidnapped or something.”

“Yeah, yeah I better get back on the road myself. Got a long way to Georgia.” He said in the same manner of awkwardness as he stuffed his hands into his pockets and we both stood up.

“Georgia? Funny you don’t seem to have the accent. No offense.”

“None taken, I’m just heading down that way to help out my aunt. She got injured pretty badly and I said I’d help her at her shop.”

“Such a gentleman, don’t see many of you out in the world.”

“Oh we’re out there. Just gotta know where to look. But I think it’s ungentlemanly to not introduce myself, I’m Paul.”

“(Y/n).” the second we took hands, I felt a spark of electricity surge through me and I let out a tiny gasp.  There’s no way I could be falling for this guy so fast could I? No, no, no it’s just a crush. Just like with Jack, it’s not real.  But then again I knew the term soulmates were real thanks to that one cupid who talked about the destiny of John and Mary Winchester being together.

Snap out of it (Y/n)! when I realized we were still shaking hands, I nervously took back my hand and apologized but he told me no worries and the two of us decided to walk out of the forest trail and we continued to talk to one another.

“So you went to college in New York to study law?”

“Yeah, One more semester and I’ll finally be done after seven years.” Paul told me.

“My big brother Sam tried to study at law school in California but unfortunately it didn’t work out for him.”

“Oh that’s too bad. Was it the stress cause there have been times where I’ve wanted to quit because of the immense pressure. That’s why I didn’t even try for Standford since they’re so strict.”

“I think it’s that school rivalry talking.”

“Or that.” We both laughed softly.

“So what’s the city of New York actually like?”

“Hold on, I thought you had said you’ve been to everywhere across America.”

“I have. But the only part of New York I ever went to was in upstate. I’ve never been to the actual city. Is it true you can pretty much get anywhere by walking?”

“Most part. But I take the train since my campus is in the heart of the city and I’m taking lodgings in Queens. You know if you’re ever in the area I wouldn’t mind showing you around the city sometime. I can show you all the hot spots and where to get the best pizza.”

“I’ve heard Chicago’s is better.”

“Okay that is a straight up lie! They deep dish their pizza in grease and I will proudly stand by that!” he proclaimed.  I giggled softly when I heard Dean’s voice cry out.

“Yo (Y/n)! Time to hit the road let’s go double time!” I groaned and Paul said.

“That big brother or eldest brother?”

“Eldest brother. I gotta go, it was real nice to meet you Paul. And again sorry about running into you.”

“Like I said, I was the one just parked in the middle of the trail. Take care of yourself (Y/n), you too Miracle.” Miracle let out a bark as he allowed Paul to rub the top of his head and I urged him back towards Baby.  As we came up to the impala, Dean asked.

“Who’s the boy?”

“Just get in the car.” I got Miracle into the backseat before following in after him and shut the door.

“He got a name?” asked Sam.

“Don’t you start too, I don’t need the big brother protection program on my ass.”

“Oh don’t you worry baby sis. Cause we’ll get you to talk one way or another about him.” Dean said as he got into the car before revving Baby up.

We continued the drive long throughout the night and by morning we finally reached Georgia by mid-afternoon. As we drove through the county Dean soon took the exit towards Blairsville, each time he took the exit that had that name.

“No destination huh Dean?” I mocked as I now sat in the front with him while Sam took the back to rest.

“Can’t hurt to make a couple of stops along the way.”

“Yeah well can we at least check into a motel? I feel so sticky and gross.”

“That’s good. That way no boy tries to flirt with you like the boy we met at that rest stop in Missouri.”

“Oh my god Dean not this again.”

“No, no, no. You gotta know this baby girl. Boys at that age are after one thing and one thing only. Besides in our line or work, he could’ve been a monster for all we know.”

“He wasn’t because Miracle acted the same way he does around you in the mornings. He didn’t give any of his training cues when he smelled Paul.”

“Paul? Who names their kid Paul?”

“Dean knock it off. Our sister knows how to take care of herself she could well beat Paul’s ass if he tried anything to her.” Sam groaned as he finally woke up from his nap.

“I can’t tell if you’re on my side or not there Sammy.” I bluntly said.

“Be thankful I know what you’re capable of doing on your own. You’ve been a karate master since you were 14.”

“I wouldn’t say master but I know a thing or two.”

“Still, I don’t want you talking or flirting with any boys while we’re here. You’re our sister and you’re too young for that shit.”

“I’m 18 years old Dean. I’m an adult and can make my own decisions.”

“Not when it comes to boys you’re not.” I let out a groan as I turned away from him and crossed my arms over my chest.

“You really are a stubborn ass.”

“Better to be a stubborn ass than a neglectful asshole.”

“What Dean’s trying to say is we’re this protective over you because we love you and we don’t wanna see you get hurt. Any more than you have in the past, especially now since we’ve finally managed to get our lives to normal since defeating God.” Sam piped in as I felt his hand on top of my shoulder giving it a loving shake.  I looked behind him and placed my hand on top of his.

“I know, but you guys also need to understand I’m not the same frightened little girl you found curled over her dead mother’s corpse covered in blood. You guys taught me everything I need to know in defending myself, so did Gabriel and Cas. Bobby and Jodi. So can I just try to live out whatever normal young adult life I can on my own and if I ever need you guys to bail me out or a shoulder to cry on, I’ll call you?”

“I can live by that.” I turned to Dean and said his name.  He let out a sharp breath.

“Just when I think I can out argue yah, you always tend to play the heartstrings card. And even though I hate chick flick moments, I guess I can agree to those terms. Just as long as you let me have a go at whoever pressures you into sex or drugs cause that’s where I draw the line of not getting involved.”

“Then it’s a deal.” Dean continued his drive through Blairsville and we soon saw the reason why he had wanted to come here.  All over the county there were banners, flyers and signs for the upcoming Great American Pie Festival.  Pies, parades, fireworks, food trucks, games and prizes were all promised and it all began tonight.

“Why doesn’t this surprise me?” asked Sam.

“C’mon Sammy, after all that we’ve done for the world I deserve me some damn pie! Now like (Y/n) said we’ll check into a motel, get cleaned up and then get us some pie.” He sniffled and I asked him teasingly.

“Are you crying Dean?”

“What? No I’m not crying, you’re crying.” He brushed off my statement as he kept driving down the road until we reached the closest motel.

“Dibs on the first shower!” I called out as Dean turned off Baby once we reached the parking lot and we all came out of the car.  Sam took Miracle for a walk while Dean and I got ourselves checked into a room.  Once we got into the room, I grabbed a spare set of clothes and my bath essentials and headed towards the bathroom to take a nice, hot relaxing shower.

A few hours passed and after getting ourselves comfortable and situated in our hotel room it was now time to head out to the main street where they would kick off the festival with the firework show and then by noon tomorrow they would have their big parade.

My brothers and I followed the crowd of people as we could hear everyone’s excitement for this year’s Pie festival.

“This is my destiny. I was born for this, I was made for this.” Dean muttered to himself.

“Dude are you seriously giving yourself a pep talk right now?” asked Sam incredulously.

“Shut up Sammy I need to get into my Zen pie mode.” Sam and I looked at each other and shook our heads.  The second we got to the main pie gallery where all the pie shops were set up, we stopped and Sam and I could see on Dean’s face that he had just seen the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.  “It’s….just so beautiful.”

“Just don’t OD yourself tough guy.” I said patting his gut softly.  Dean shoved me playfully and was the first to walk through the streets of pie.  “Shall we Sammy?”

“After you.” He told me and we both walked into the gallery square and took in all the sights the festival had to offer.  Balloons and banners all over the square, multiple shops and food trucks on every corner, hundreds of people all walking around already with their pie purchases and soon we found a bench to sit on.

Sam and I sat down and waited for Dean to find us with his treasure hoard.  As I looked around I said to Sam.

“Could you imagine us being in something like this during our many apocalyptic savings?”

“If it were up to Dean, we’d come to it in a heartbeat but at the time. We had bigger fish to fry. Now I think we might just end up going to every pie fest across the country.”

“I don’t think it’d be so bad. I mean we did have a good drive here. Not too much traffic, decent weather. Even Miracle seemed okay with the trip.”

“Yeah he did. And probably best that we left him at the motel, we still need to work on his approach towards people.”

“Tell me about it. Plus all this food, he’d be all over everybody.” After a few minutes of watching the crowd, Dean finally came in with a large box but he had to quickly spin around to avoid someone nearly knocking it over.  He gave the man his best death glare as he came over and sat on the opposite of Sam.  We looked down and that box held at least eight pies all ranging in various flavors.

“Didn’t I tell you not to OD? At this point all them pies will put you into a pie coma.” I said to Dean.

“You know you worry too much (n/n). Plus I can’t have a little sister whose thinks pie is a dried up heave of dough. That is sacrilege!”

“I never said that. I just said I can’t eat pie by itself. Now pie with ice cream sign me up any day of the week.”

“I’ll tell you where the ice cream truck is at if you take at least one bite of this pie, by itself.” Dean then handed me what looked like a pumpkin pie smothered in whipped cream.  He tossed me a fork and I picked it up before standing up.  I walked over to Dean and just as I was about to plunge the fork into the pie, I then shoved the pie into his face which caused Sam to bite back a laugh.

“I can’t tell you how much I’ve always wanted to do that to someone. And it’s just as funny as it is in cartoons.” Sam and I both soon started laughing as he high fived me.

“Funny.” Dean said as the pie finally fell from his face.  “Real funny there kid.”

“Hey Dean, you got a little something there on your face.” Teased Sam as Dean gave him his bitch face before Sam started bursting out laughing and I walked off shaking my head snickering under my breath.

I walked along through the crowd and soon found the ice cream food truck and as luck would have it, it lied right beside a chocolate pie shop.  Vanilla ice cream and chocolate pie, oh hell yes.  I jogged over to the food truck and ordered a small vanilla cup and paid the guy what I owed before jogging over to Aunt Mina’s Pies.  I dinged the little bell and was soon greeted by a familiar voice.

“Welcome to Aunt Mina’s how may I—(Y/n)?”

“Paul? We’ll all be damned.”

“Small world ain’t it? You and your brothers here for the pie festival?”

“Yep. Believe me, you mention the word pie and my eldest brother goes crazy over them.”

“He wouldn’t have been the one carrying the box with eight pies including one of my aunt’s apple pies, would he?”

“That’s the guy.”

“So what can I get you?”

“One of your best chocolate chip pies please.”

“Coming right up.” he gave me a wink before leaving the window and called out the order as he began prepping the pan.

“So your aunt’s a pie maker?”

“Not to toot my own horn, but my aunt makes one of the best pies down here in the south. Even her shop over at New Orleans say that she’s the best damn pie maker they’ve ever had. But since her car accident she’s been needing help run the various shops. My older sister is running the main one in New Orleans while I’m helping out with the festival. Then of course my cousins co-own the shop up in Philly.”

“Wow, proud family business. What my brother wouldn’t give to have his own pie shop. Though if it were up to him he’d eat all the merchandise rather than sell it.”

“It’s tempting. I remember the first summer I helped my aunt out in this very festival. I was so hungry by the end of it all, I had eaten about five of her coconut cream pies. It was well worth the beating I took later that night.” We both laughed before my pie was finally ready.

“How much do I owe yah?”

“Nothing, it’s on the house.”

“Paul no I-I can’t…..”

“Consider it a first time festival welcome freebie.”

“You sure you won’t get in trouble?” I whispered as I took the pie from him.

“Who knows. But if you’d really like to pay me back, would you mind joining me in watching the fireworks later tonight?” once again I felt my cheeks grow hot and I said.

“Will you provide another slice of pie for me?”

“I’ll sneak one out if I have to.” He gave me another wink as he smiled mischievously.

“Then I’d be honored Paul.”

“Great. How about meeting me back here in 20 minutes? I get off around that time.”

“It’s a date.” We both were shocked at my wording and I quickly tried to fix it but that’s when I heard Dean’s voice say.

“What’s a date?” we both looked and there stood both Sam and Dean looking at us skeptical.

“Dean, Sam. This is Paul, he’s offered to allow me to be his escort to the fireworks show later tonight.”

“Did he now?” asked Dean as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Yes sir. Just as a friendly welcome to the festival. She told me that it’s your first time here at our little pie festival. Lots to do over just a weekend and it can get overwhelming.” Paul said to my brothers.

“I’m sure it does.” Said Sam with a curt nod.  I looked at them widened eyed and annoyed desperately trying to get them to remember our conversation in the car.

“I promise I’ll be the perfect gentleman and you two are more than welcome to join us.” Oh god please no Paul why did you have to suggest that.

“That sounds like…..” Dean first started off but Sam interrupted him.

“Actually we’re good. Fireworks really aren’t our thing but you kids go and have fun.” Dean turned to Sam but Sam arched a brow at Dean and gestured with his head.  Dean glared at Sam and he said to me.

“Be home no later than 10.”

“Midnight.” I suggested.

“11.” Dean negotiated.

“11:30.”

“Fine 11:30 and not a minute later young lady. And you, Timothee Chalamet don’t you dare try any funny business. Cause I’ll know.”

“Yeah okay Dean, let’s go before you get us kicked out.” Sam escorted Dean away.

“Wow. Your brothers are pretty protective over you aren’t they?” exhaled Paul.

“You don’t know the half of it. I apologize for them, I’ll understand if you don’t want to watch the fireworks with me anymore.”

“No, no I still want you to join me. I can understand protective siblings, you should see my sister. You know how mama bears are super protective over their cubs, well they ain’t got nothing when it comes to my sister. God did she ever used to embarrass me when I was a teenager.”

“It’s tough being the youngest sibling.”

“I’d toast to that. So like I said, meet me here in 15 minutes?” he said looking down at his watch.

“Yeah, see you then Paul.” I took my pie and ice cream and walked away still feeling that blush at my cheeks.  When I went back to the bench I had seen that both my brothers were gone.  I looked around but couldn’t spot them anywhere when I felt a vibration in my pocket.  I set my food down and took out my phone to see a text from Sam.  I unlocked my phone and read the message.

Sammy-boy: Headed back to the motel, had to check up on Miracle before the fireworks started. You know how he gets. Have fun and be safe, see you at 11:30 on the dot.

“Thanks Sam.” I sat down at the table and poured my ice cream cup next to my pie and proceeded to eat my dessert.

[kazimirovich]

all i can say forever

i'm jewish. as a child i moved from a rural town where my family saw acts of rage and hate, emigrated from a country with a horrifying history with jews. you know the one, though there are many. i'm 31 now and i have seen and experienced antisemitism my whole life, in the many places i've lived, to varying degrees. not that i should need to qualify this before everything i have to say - but i know what that looks and feels like. in my life there have been times at which i have been in danger. i choose to stay out of danger in all the ways i was taught. (part of that is not moving into someone else's house uninvited (more in a sec))

(well-meaning?) people want me to have a relationship with israel. they are very invested in assuming i have some connection to this shifting space, this project. they associate my german jewishness with a place i have never been and never felt. home, for me, is the uncle i haven't seen in too long, the ailing brother of my mother, the same red nose. it's fresh sheets hung over dry summer grass, it's bavarian farmland, it's thick liptauer on pumpernickel bread warmed over the wood stove. it's my grandmother's dining room and rough fenceposts, borders we disrespected as kids. home is also here and there and where my family is, where my friends are, where i've built myself.

in a geopolitical sense, it is clear that the antisemitic position is to sequester jews into a partitioned state conceived of by non-jews after the sunset of our most recent attempted decimation. antisemitic, to tell jews "move here, be at home in this space of constant war. impose war on others. fight for a tenuous link to an ancestry you've never seen or studied." in a religious sense, sort of a key feature of judaism since the second exile is that - we're in exile. this is an orthodox argument, but i have to admit that rabbinical discourse is pretty convincing. the secular establishment of the israeli state in an attempt to accelerate any so-called redemption has left us at a point where i really don't know what hope we have for that to occur. if you believe in god, how can you believe they are looking down at us, impressed

because beyond theoretical or spiritual reasons, the bloodlust, the vengefulness, the racism, the violation of law (i know that laws are agreed upon, are broken all the time by those who grant themselves impunity), the evil of this continuance, the evil which grinds babies and text and memory, gnashes it all in its droning machinery, its cold horror and inhumane (unhuman) practice, seemingly perfected... it is obvious to anyone with a single thought that it is an ethnic cleansing. the forcible "movement" (murder) of people of one group from land people of another group want. is ethnic cleansing. we are watching it in real time, and the world stands by and in many cases, it endorses, it beats and imprisons those who are brave enough to stand up to it, it rewards cowardly men in war rooms who having read fukuyama and arendt and maybe even voegelin conveniently forget themselves, because they can afford to, and wave their hands and make calls and decimate entire families cities sovereignties. and liberalism - that fickle ideology whose sole search is for the justification of atrocity - sends its thoughts and prayers, and emphasizes how just horrible both sides are, and conveniently forgets the histories that have led each "side" to this. convenient.

and i can't do anything about it. i can perfectly articulate every well-thought-out argument, i can cry the most frustrated tears from the well of my chest and i can scream that this isn't right, because it isn't, but nobody fucking cares. those who matter have decided for those who don't.

if you align yourself with israel, or feel any sympathy toward the supposed plight of active settlers (not a neutral spot to be in, by the way - another rational argument), i hope you know how thoroughly you've been manipulated. how successful the project of those with the power to decide we don't matter has been. you and i don't matter. so-called free thinkers meme. you fucking idiot. you genocidal maniac.

not putting this under a cut. fuck you. read it all and remember my jewish name and keep it far out of your mouth the next time you tell someone why the people you've told me are my neighbors deserve a flattening.

[2demondogs]

HIIIIIII RAHHH

sorry

Im the same anon who asked you to write the latest arthur x m!reader and omgg you envisioned what i wanted so well! you're an amazing author!!

I was also wondering if you were up to write more parts to this specific prompt of the affair? it doesn't have to be smut again, just a continuation of the story ykyk?

Thank you so much, I'm so glad you liked it! <3 Sorry this took so long, I had an immediate plot come to mind bc I'm fuckin' heavy w this AU but then I got nerfed by life. Original work I'm writing rn is affair-based too... I'm on a messy gay bitches kick I guess lol. No smut in this one.

For the uninitiated, part one is here. On Ao3, I've just added this as a 2nd chapter.

Words: 3.6k Tags: pre-canon, extramarital affairs (reader's married to a gal), chalk full of messy drama, this is like a situationship but even more evil

The bruises Arthur left lasted for nearly two weeks.

You're thankful that the soreness wasn't present for quite as long, coming in hard and fast in the morningtime. It felt like you'd sat on hot coals. Riding home was nearly unbearable, and not only because — for some reason that couldn't've been worth what it did to your heart — the man spent the night with you. Maybe he thought it would feel less transactional than an evening together usually must, though you'd not know. Maybe he holds every man he lays with while he sleeps.

The fact you don't know anything substantial about Arthur, sometimes, bothers you. Your wife wanted to lose her virginity on a more special occasion than her wedding day which also, sometimes, bothers you.

Anymore, you twist the ring around your finger and quiet that blackness in your gut by reminding yourself: if she's got someone else, well— haven't I?

She doesn't, you know. Never have you been one to play those petty games of accusation based only in your own sorrows. As you ready for bed, there is no other man undoing the laces of her corset. Nor does he do them up in the mornings, having learned exactly how tight she likes them done; no other woman fixes your ties when you wear one, nor goes to undo the first button of your collar because it looks less stiff this way.

Stiff is the awfulest thing, your wife believes, a man could be. You suppose you're inclined to agree, in most cases. It certainly does not ease the tension in your shoulders to know you're becoming stiff, and for reasons she's not privy to.

She hasn't got another, no.

Have you?

Firstly, it would break her heart. Or at least, you think as much. It felt too fresh to be desired how you were, openly and hotly, by Arthur. A wife should be her man's best friend and her, his, but is she too friendly? You had rolled that one around your head until the purple on your chest began to fade and you were beginning to forget, with a great sense of regret for how fast memories discolor themselves, how Arthur had looked at you that first moment alone. By then, it was beginning to aggravate you how difficult women's clothes are to do and undo.

Secondly, you hadn't been able to shake the idea that she'd find out. Someone saw you, you fear, and felt so bad for your poor betrothed that they're about to risk their own life to out you. Any minute now, two years of marriage and many more of some sort of love will be lost.

It'd been awful enough trying to fall asleep in a place with such a target over its head. It was foolish, you know now that you are no longer aroused and careless, to not find another, safer room to board in for the evening. It was foolish to feel safe because Arthur was beside you, and even more foolish to let Arthur stroke your hair. It'd only been for a moment. Your wife hasn't thought much of your requests for it every night since then, though her slender, soft fingers kept you awake and tense.

Mostly, you feel confused. Torn, more like; ripped apart. It's unavoidable, now, the answer to whether you like men or not. The wonder is so satiated, in fact, you're starting to fear that you used Arthur for your own exploration in a moment of callous selfishness led only by your prick.

It's soothed by the longing, and then you feel the pain of her delicacy. You're beginning to question if you like women or not. The answer is coming into focus the more you look at her, though she only thinks you missed her enough to be crazy for her.

God, does staring truly count as being crazy for someone?

How distant have I been?

How little have I known myself, all this time?

And yet remains the urge to be pleasant for her. To loosen your collar and yourself and have her draped over your arm, because you do still love her, even if only as some odd sort of close friend that lives with you and dotes on you and fixes your hair when it is windblown and looks at you when you light her cigarettes, because she's forgotten her matchbook again.

You fear, despite this love, you are using her.

There is still a certain, adoring pride you take in knowing how tightly to lace her corset, that she's absentminded but always remembers the dates of things, that she'll be happy if you lay out that food for the stray cats and make sure to feed her favorite one — that calico that looks like it's ninety years old — an extra slice of salami every time she goes to her sister's house for the weekend. Salami, always, because he doesn't like ham like the others do. She can tell if you're lying, somehow, so you always make certain to do it.

You aren't sure why she doesn't bring them inside the house. Sometimes you feel more kinship with the crowd of strays than you'd like.

It's an hour past noon when you hear the approaching of hooves from the parlor. Too spacious, with little to soak up the sound as it wafts in through an open window, cracked to let the summer breeze blow through the stuffy downstairs. Perfect timing, all things considered: you'd just finished a chapter of your Wilde collection.

While you sat the hardcover volume on the coffee table before the couch, you found it odd to hear hooves on second thought. Used to it, anymore, but unless your horse got out of the pasture again — possible, and very tiresome — your wife had not left on horseback.

Her friend's husband had driven by to take your ladies into town, which you declined because you did not care for the man and your wife didn't either. The thought of him wandering the city alone while the women shopped together was amusement of a cynical variety. She didn't want you to bicker with him, anyways, so you'd given her perhaps too much of your week's pay and a kiss on the forehead. She looked like a painting, which of course you told her, in her fine afternoon dress and those earrings her friend had made for her on her last birthday.

Sometimes you consider the very fine line you walk between comfort and wealth, and find yourself a little off-put by it. The house was a wedding gift, and much of it is empty still from your meager pay.

The foyer is rugged, though it needs a wash from the dust and dirt staining it. Door creaking, you try not to walk fast down the steps, though that changes when you see her being helped down from riding side-saddle on an unfamiliar horse by a man you don't recognize— right away. Talking, and she laughs, but it is strained and thick as though she's upset. You last heard that voice out of her when her father passed away.

"Sweetheart?" The brief worry flashes in your mind that she has found someone else; it's your guilt speaking. "What's goin' on?"

Her face appears from behind the broad shoulders, and she starts to meet you where you approach them. You wish your gun were not left in the bedroom, tucked into its holster on the nightstand, because there is something about all of this that is already twisting your gut.

What it is becomes clear soon enough. With her face in your hands, its makeup run down her cheeks and tracks of skin showing through her ruined rouge and eyeliner, you look over her shoulder at the man who's turned around. That thing coils tighter in your belly, twists into something even uglier than fear or anger: excitement.

His skin is beaten freshly red by the sun and his clothes are stained in traildust, but it is Arthur all the same. You should've known by that black hat, though it was too dark to have seen the scuff marks that would've told you from behind, or maybe by the way he stands. Missing the heat but as certain as he had stood staring down at where you were pressed to the wall.

Recognition flashes across his face, too, but he handles it with more grace. You realize she's began to speak, and afix her with all the confusion and sympathy you have.

"—chasin' me! Mister— oh, I didn't even ask your name," she's saying, looking back at Arthur.

He gives her a soft expression, as though she's a wounded animal. "Kilgore," he says. "Arthur Kilgore."

Had that been his name?

Perhaps it's his middle name, or his last. You could've sworn it was Callahan, but maybe in your overwraught mind the last month and a half has morphed it the same it's done to the visions of that evening. It wasn't entirely farfetched to think he might've lied in such a place, either.

She turns back to you, brows scrunched. "Mister Kilgore got them boys off my trail. God, I never should've left them two, they'll surely be worried to death, but I— I jus' wanted to be home, 'n' I hadn't any idea where they was by then." She sighs, shuts her eyes as if she can't bear to say it with her gaze on your face. The mahagony shadow is still painted on her lids. "Oh, I wish I would'a asked you to come with us, honey. I hate bein' alone in that godforesaken town."

Burying her face into your collar, she squeezes around your ribs tighter than you've ever felt, and you stroke her hair. "It's a'right," you soothe, rocking her. "You're home, now."

With her in your arms, Arthur standing awkwardly to the side, it feels— everything feels wrong. You find again that there is something missing from the way you hold her, and this is an awful moment to notice it.

"Well," Arthur says, settling his hands on his belt only to lift them in some gesture of that's enough for me. "I best be movin' on, now. I got—"

Your wife draws back, steps away to swing her body to face him. Her fingers clutch in your shirt's back, and then loosen, though her arm stays around you.

"You must stay for dinner," she says, palm open to him as if to display the offer. "It's the least we can offer. You might'a saved my life."

She turns to you, smiles and drops her tone the way she always does when she's sweet-talking. Her lashes are black and thick with mascara as she looks up through them. "And I don't know what you'd do without me."

For better or worse, you don't know either. You realize that is precisely the problem.

You flush, anyways.

Arthur begins to speak, eyes flicking between the two of you and your house, the stables out back. His face is unreadable, artfully so. You've never been more thankful, nor more curious as to how a man keeps his composure in a situation that's got you feeling like some part of you might implode, toe of your shoe antsily bouncing on the grass.

"I s'pose a hot meal does sound nice," he sighs, humble as ever. He takes his hat off, lays it over his chest. You look at your girl's hair instead, until he speaks, seeing him gesture with the gambler to her out of your peripherals. "Thank you, miss." Arthur finds your eyes, and you think maybe you see some of the tension you feel returned in them. There's a silent pointedness in how he returns his hat to his head instead of waving it towards you. "'N' you, o'course."

Feeling as though it's the right thing to do, you bring her closer by her bicep, sliding a hand around to squeeze comfortingly at the softness that her off-shoulder dress exposes of her arm. "Thank you, mister."

You'd insisted on helping with the cooking, and she insisted you keep Arthur company. It was your expected duty as the man of the house, but what a terrible choice it had seemed, and what a terrible choice it's coming to be.

Some young men had scared her half to death chasing her through the city street. She's alright, physically speaking. You'd been worried when she described it, but she swore she was untouched, which eased your concern only a little. Arthur affirmed as much.

You didn't and don't ask what he did to the boys. A feeling that he is more than he appears comes crawling up your neck, but you disregard it. A man who would stop and whisk your wife away from danger is not a man that you fear, let alone the way he'd treated you.

All you do is wonder if he realizes, based on the blasé expression on his face, the lives he touches. The way he's touched yours, twice now— you're uncertain on how it feels but, nonetheless, he has done it.

A man less keen on disturbing peace and quiet might have spoken up and said the man's got places to be, darling, and sent him away instead of inviting him inside. Punishment must make you feel better, you think, because that seems an even more terrible choice than allowing things to complicate themselves further in the name of your own relief.

Inside, once more. It was beginning to get easier to swallow the inklings of lust and the afterimages burned into your mind, but there is little to stave them off, now. Two weeks' worth of repression is brewing beneath the pressure of the half-dignified face you've kept sealed over top.

He apologizes for tracking dirt in while slipping off his boots, and that gentle consideration strikes you as too-familiar. Your wife laughs and says what a great idea before toeing off hers; all you can think of is jeans pooled around socked feet and smooth, exposed hip-bones. You clear your throat and lead them towards the sofa by a hand on her waist and his elbow.

How many lives has Arthur touched without knowing the burn he leaves behind? It's muggy in your throat, the want and the dismay and the horrible, no-good pleasure of being near him again.

As she disappears into the kitchen, he settles a respectable distance from you on the couch. The idea that he is not interested in any more fooling around makes you want to tear the skin off your hands, forcing yourself to settle for picking at the dirt gathered beneath your nails.

He looks out of place in the tidiness. You study him openly, and Arthur doesn't appear to mind. His eyes are wandering the paintings and scattered photographs on the walls. Fresh freckles are formed along his arms, or maybe you've merely forgotten them; his stomach has lost some of its fullness, which makes you glad dinner was offered and yet leaves you with questions; his his socks are holed against clean hardwood floor.

There's an awkwardness that lays only in how stilted both of you feel, though his own is considerably more concealed. It comes through in the air, a tightness in his spine. There's a thick blanket of oxygen between your bodies that you have no idea how to approach, although you know you shouldn't approach it at all.

"Nice home," Arthur says. His voice seems fuller indoors, warm and rough.

"Nice house," you agree. It's very unlike you to say such a thing. "Cigarette?"

Something ugly inside you wants to plead with him that you are not a cheater nor attached to him, though he didn't seem to care about either possibility with the promise of your warmth, and to lie and say you are only a heartless hedonist. By all accounts, most think the latter is better for a man to be.

Well, as long as he is a hedonist for another woman. You do not contemplate that, or else you'll truly go mad.

Arthur nods, a thanks under his breath. Your fingers fumble with the lighter once you've fished the carton from your breast pocket, almost dry and tasting bitterly of scraped up fuel when you drop the lever to ignite the end of your smoke. Patiently, he accepts the flame when you light his.

You feel terrible, but you yearn. He looks at your hand and he is gorgeous beneath brown lashes.

Oh, how you yearn. There is and there isn't— of so much. Does he understand what his presence is doing to you? He must, for how he turns his eyes up at you across the flame, easy and open and unspeaking but knowing.

"Wife's a pretty gal," he says, once he's settled back into the cushion. You can't decipher his tone, only to decide it's mere polite conversation. "Real sweet. Didn't think she'd ever stop thankin' me." He shrugs. "Jus' scattered some fools for her."

How pompous. You're delighted to hear so many words from him.

"She was scared," you say, as if you were the one who was there. Nothing else comes to you, so you reach over and slide the glass ashtray across the coffee to sit between you, flicking the end of your cigarette into it.

"Dunno what's wrong with fellers these days," Arthur says. He blinks and sighs, face suggesting it isn't just these days as he leans his elbows on his knees. You're inclined to agree, twisting at your wedding band with the cigarette tucked between your lips. "Lonesome lady mindin' her own business." He gestures with his hand, smoke trailing after it. "No reason to bother her."

Silence passes with ash dropped in tray, though not internally. The conversation settles and your mind is back ablaze, with a fresh coat of guilt-paint. God, she could've been kidnapped, and you're—

"Does it bother you?" You're murmuring, eyes set on his. They are clearer in the day, shades of green shining through their blue, set above dark undereyes. "That she's in the other room?"

Understanding crosses his face immediately. You aren't sure if it's an offer, if it's a question, if it's even something you should have spoken aloud. But that strength is there, that odd and nuturing kind that you simply don't have or comprehend, and you feel better that Arthur seems to know what you mean.

"No," he whispers. His voice is gravelly. "You?"

"Yes," you reply. It's the truth.

Despite it, you move closer; so does Arthur.

His hand finds your thigh and the touch sears so strongly you might jump from your skin the moment it leaves, his palm hot, back of his hand covered in hairs bleached blond by the sun. He must be a trailblazer of some sort. Somehow, the urge to know him dies.

It's more exciting this way. How quickly you've leapt from whatever aching, heart-bursting thing that was begging him back to you and straight towards skin-shallow lust. It is hot in your gut as he kisses you, cigarette pinched between his fingers as they trace your jaw, fall to rest on your neck. He tastes so familiar despite the distance between now and then, time and miles. The parlor fades and only the bar would exist, save for the daylight that threatens your hastily shut eyelids, so you squeeze them tighter and place your nose against his throat.

She's making dinner. The sounds of it haven't stopped, idle metal clicking and the sound of fresh-lit crackling in the fireplace. The racing of your heart is enough of a reminder, the anxiety that makes your hand twitch where it clings to the coarse fabric of Arthur's flannel shirt, nails digging in and slipping against it.

You withdraw, even though you want. There are not definite words for the desire, none at all, except maybe consumption or licking him clean down to the bones.

He is everything a man ought to be and Jesus, you want a man.

In the face of him the first time, the worst parts of this new self-discovery had fled and gave way to the goodness of it. All those terrible parts simmering inside you for so long flee again now that he is here, now that his stubble has roughed your chin and his spit dries on your lips once more. You were starting to fear they'd never leave, that the rot would grow stale in you and sour for as long as you lived.

You kiss him again to lick into his mouth, haphazard, all prowess lost in the celibacy since you had sex with him. He accepts it as openly as before, shows you another thing or two. Hot breath grows too loud and you withdraw despite yourself.

What to do now lingers.

You've broken whatever remaining restraint was keeping you sat at the other end of the sofa, and his hand is feeling at the softness of your inner thigh through your jeans. If you don't decide quickly, you'll be explaining a hard-on to your wife, and that thought sobers you.

You told him it bothers you that you are not alone, so he does not question it, despite his obvious disappointment, when you slide inches back to your original seat. Not all the way, but enough that when your wife pokes her head from the kitchen and asks what the silence is about, she suspects nothing more than that stiffness she dislikes so much.

[sn0wcr0ws]

More Crowfish hcs For the Soul

Authors Note: Minors please dni! Mentions of nsfw later on thank yoooou ✨ (also not proof read at allllll lmao these are my unedited thoughts!)

Getting Together

I think it would be sylus to bring up the idea originally. Either because he couldn’t bare to not be with mc, or he’d sympathize with rafayel. After all, sylus is closed off but not evil.

The point he brings up? It must be difficult to let yourself feel the full extent of your unbridled love for someone when their soul is split with another.

Rafayel, stubborn as always and doesn’t admit at first that sylus is right. He’s actually a little pissed off at the notion. He didn’t want to share what he decided was “his”. Oh absolutely not—however, as time passes he can’t help but actually feel the physical pull that sylus held.

This whole argument went on for moooonths. Mc would invite sylus to one of raf’s art shows (they’re friends at this point; she has no idea what sylus and raf have been talking about) because she knows sylus has a love for the arts. All the poor girl wanted was for her two (again at this time) friends to bond! All the while sylus would corner rafayel to plead the “she had two hands! Why must we both suffer!” case.

Eventually after forever of arguing back and forth and pleading cases, sylus wins. Rafayel can’t really ignore the truths of the matter. So, then they finally have to tell Mc what’s been going on and she h o w l s with laughter.

The two men she’s been fond over for while both want to be with her?? Awesome! Kinda saves her ass because she herself was battling emotions on having a crush on both men and didn’t want to accident hurt either in the process. It’s a win win win.

Naturally the relationship is kind of…awkward at first. Sylus and Rafayel argue sometimes, mostly due to the power struggle.

Sylus is domineering; rafayel is a brat. It takes a couple months for those two to work through the growing pains of the relationship.

Like, those two would argue over little things—maybe bicker would be the better word. Never in bad faith! Just a “but I wanna take charge :((“ mentality

Once they finally settle into routine Mc can finally breath and enjoy her two boys to the fullest extent.

Sylus falls into a silent role, peacefully watching his lovers interact with passerby’s with a small smirk on his face. He’s still sassy as ever, but true joy stems from watching his puppy and kitten frolic about.

Raf keeps his dramatic persona. In fact, his theatrics get worse!! What do you mean we can’t hang out 24/7 and go on dates every day!! Outrage, outcry!! He simply cannot sand for this injustice!

No but in all seriousness the time Raf has with sylus and mc is his most cherished times.

About once a week, sylus, mc, and raf have at least one day set aside where all three of them either stay in or go out. If it’s a stay in week it’s usually some wacky movie chosen by mc herself, and too many (luxury) snacks to count. If it’s a going out week all three of them will spend an hour or five getting ready to hit the latest, probably expensive, cocktail lounge in town. (Which is kinda funny because raf usually gets the most drunk on accident; it’s extremely cute).

For maybe—-the first maybe 3 months pda is actually pretty tame. Little curt kisses here, hugs there.

But maaaaaan once the new relationship jitters are worked through sylus and raf both become menaces. I mean—serious menaces.

We’re talking sneaky make outs and hands on thighs, we’re talking cute but slightly suggestive pda.

In the Bedroom

WOW IS MC!! GOOD LUCK MY POOR SWEET GIRL. Sylus; unhinged. Rafayel; also unhinged but needier about it. Whatever shall she do ;;

Okay but actually sex with them also comes with its own growing pains. At first it’s just mc and one, or the other. It takes a lot of time, and a lot of communication before the three of them sharing the bed was even an option.

Sylus being sylus wanted nothing more but to be in control at first, his first time with rafayel by themselves was the biggest learning curve. Him and raf were just so—out of their own elements within each other. Sex wasn’t for pleasure but for education funnily enough. Mc definitely picks slight fun at em’ for it.

Rafayel’s biggest struggle when it came to sex with sylus was��learning what pleasured the both of them.

So, through trial and error, the two of them eventually figure out what makes them both tick; which in return paves way to many many nights spent with Mc.

Sylus always tries his best to be the last to cum. He’s made it a game lmao. How long can he last while experiencing the most intimate parts of both his partners? Who’s to say. Its funny. Really. Especially when Mc and Raf realize what’s happening and gang up on him one night.

For Sy his favorite part of being intimate it’s watching Raf eat you out like a starved man while’s deep inside the man. The way Rafayel whimpers inside mc is enough for Sylus’ mind to go blank and completely let go.

Now Rafayel—his favorite part about sex is making sweet love to Mc while making out with sylus. Something about kissing sunshine trying to focus on her is so—intimate. It’s raw, and emotional like a carefully crafted poem.

Oh, and at some point he convinces sylus to bottom for him—and that’s is a game changer.

At the end of the day, they’re both attentive and go for so long Mc isn’t sure how she’s still walking most of the time. Conclusion? Three love sick idiots.

[highslover]

Maeve’s storyline but right!

I have always though the Maeve plot line didn’t made sense and recently I read a fic (spencer reid x reader) where reader was a serial killer of serial rword and I thought how much better that could’ve been.

Maeve’s plot line was weak in many ways. My biggest pet peeve is that it was that aggressive from the start and Spencer did nothing, which I don’t find in character. That meaning her stalker (Diane).

Let’s assume his first consult with Maeve was pretty normal, how could he imagine she had a stalker? But in order to keep talking to her they went through using letters first. And maybe Spencer thought it was romantic and interesting, but pseudonyms? That’s a bit much.

Spencer knew all along about her stalker, he tells Hotch that much after she goes missing. So you are telling me Spencer found out this girl he likes isn’t leaving her house, she is not using her phone and is using letters to communicate with pseudonyms to protect herself and didn’t do something? I agree he might’ve been respecting her wishes, but by this time Spencer has been working with the FBI 9 years, he is not naive as he was, he is a social protector, it just doesn’t makes sense he let it go that far.

Again, from the beginning is crucial here because I don’t think he would’ve let it slide just like that. If it had grown progressively while they were together, yes maybe their attachment would’ve clouded his reasoning, but by the time they started talking Diane had made Maeve quit her job and broke up with her fiancé so??? It just doesn’t make sense for HIS character. I believe that at leasttt he would’ve investigated by himself.

But non of that happened so the plot just doesn’t cut it. Instead, if it would’ve been a serial killer? That’s interesting.

Point 1. A serial killer who kills men that are serial rapist is in many ways human. It’s imposible to not like as audience. And Spencer is often the one who empathizes with the criminals.

Point 2. Her story could’ve been a great episode, we could’ve seen how smart she was (something from Meave’s character) but at the same time how traumatized she was, her story, how evil are the men she kills. She could’ve been the same age as Spence, he could’ve done the interview, connect, blah, blah, blah.

Point 3. I think they could’ve find a way were they didn’t have anything to really hold the case, victims (of the men) not pressing charges and friends who offer alibis for her. So she makes a deal with Spencer because she is also tired and she knows she cannot stop. A letter once a month because she likes his big brain.

Point 4. She is arrested but gets her letter and Spencer gets his, where she is smart and interesting and whatever. Out of nowhere they are writing themselves not just once a month. And they talk every sunday. (Again part of Maeve storyline, everything was there!!!!) (Also I think she could’ve been an assistant for a geneticist and help him with his migraines)

Point 5. And everything is good and they form a bond but Spencer would never admit he likes her and maybe even feels something more, because he is a good guy. But in this time he starts to read every philosopher that has written about good and bad (also talk it with Blake!! best part of the Maeve plot).

Point 6. After this we are only missing her dying and I wish I remember the name of the fic but something similar could happen. In the fic she scapes prison with help and goes to find Spencer because she knows of a human trafficking organization and she wants to liberate them, so she kinda kidnaps Spencer and they go there. Because she wanted to do it, deep down Spencer knows this a suicidal mission for her.

Point 7. They get there, she gets kill by local police but she saves women and children and got to spend her last day or two with Spencer, the only person that made her wished everything she did never happened and maybe she could’ve have a great life.

And ta-da! we traumatized Spencer with an interesting plot that makes sense (at least for me). And far more complex I think, something that maybe even MGG would’ve like. But who knows, is this against copaganda???

[falandosozin]

many such cases. this "love" spoken of is fake and manipulative at worst and just plain pointless at best like what use do i have for love when the person that claims to love me can't bother to respect me at all? terfs will ignore trans men and our voices, infantilize us, act like we're all brainwashed by some omnipotent evil that only they can see, claim to know more about our own experience than we ourselves, and if we are ever with a cis gay man we'll be called predators and maybe even rapists. terfs will try their hardest to make hrt as unavailable as possible and conversion therapy legal and normalized again then turn around and then be like "why do trans men think we don't love them?"

[wolfertinger]

tw: a graphic depiction of a historical lynching, for context purposes, and because I need people to realize how horrifically racist it is for Wis to use that word in that manner. "Trans women are allowed to rape and abuse with impunity because they're marginalized" is not a logical proposition I would ever think to hear outside of the most insane type of right wing 'satire', yet here is Wis... Saying it out loud like it's profound, left wing, and trans friendly, when it in fact is one of the most damaging statements someone could ever make vis-à-vis trans identity.

You're unironically saying that rape doesn't matter if the perpetrator is trans fem because the victim was an "evil theyfab" That it doesn't matter that Mari tried to babytrap Sawyer because Sawyer "abused" Salem and you. (No proof of this has ever been shown except for Salem's constant suicide baiting, so, lol.)

You're proving that no one, even other trans women because you could decide they were lying too, can trust you and people who agree with you about sexual assault. How does this make the lgbt community safer? How does this keep trans women safe?

You say that Sawyer raped Mari. Why should we care if that's true or not, when you scream and insist that one rape is the worst crime against all trans people and call the other a "dumb fucking story full of holes," and the victim a "evil bitch." Wis is one of the most evil people I've come across on tumblr that wasn't an active sexual predator or rapist themselves. She has a pathological hatred of all TMEs, and is willing to lie and fabricate anything to excuse violent assault against them because she identifies more with the rapist than the victim. Maybe she should reflect on why that is.

Also, as an aside: Using the lynching of primarily black men that were falsely accused of rape against white women to defend your rapist buddies, who you have ADMITTED that you know sexually assaulted someone? Genuinely so racist I cannot even believe it, and we know Salem sees and quietly supports it because Sawyer hurt Salem's feelings. {TW and note, obviously I do not support violent threats against Wis or Salem. The graphic description below is only to reflect the historical reality of lynching, especially as was done to black people in the American South, and to contrast it with what Wis is saying is happening to her and Mari. } Until someone is being lit on fire, beaten, drug in the town square, drawn and quartered, and then hung as they slowly suffocate in front of a crowd of cheering people who keep their charred body parts as souvenirs: keep lynching out of your white fucking mouth, you racist ghoul. You are being confronted on the internet for the heinous things you have said and done, same as Mari: you could log the fuck off and all this would go away. To compare that to being murdered in one of the most horrific and dehumanizing ways possible is beyond the pale levels of self centered white woman victimization and crybully racism. You are not being lynched, you are not the victim, fuck you and your rape apologist boyfriend who stands by and watches as you slander a victim and spew bile and racism in his name. Black nationalist my ass, Salem can't even get his white girlfriend to stop implying she's being lynched over fucking anon hate.

i am just saying. the historical case of emmett till, was a young black boy being falsely accused by a white woman, then being violently killed by two adult men, said woman emotionally manipulated the court into freeing his killers, while knowing full well the boy was innocent. she admitted to it years later, long after it was too late.

"white woman tears" is used as a joke. but unironically. it is manipulation of the highest degree. it has caused MANY people of color, to be harassed, victimized, or killed, because a white person simply did not like them being there. i am sick of wis co opting terms specific to black suffering, to refer to a WHITE woman's consequences, to her own actions.

[zaundads]

my current subscription list

I thought it might be fun to share what's currently on my A03 subscription list and why. It seems like I have a fondness for fluffy AUs ;)

In no particular orders and only stuff that is unfinished right now (so inherently no oneshots), but at least has a couple of chapters.

River Water : I think this one is pretty popular and well known. It's an omegaverse with alpha Vander and omega Silco where Viktor is Vander and Silco's bio kids and they reconnect when Viktor and Jayce show up in Zaun after being banished. Lot's of angst and big drama (ie Vander didn't now of Silco's existance) and Zaundads reconnecting maybe to some extent as they watch JayVik also becoming close.

Trapped By A Singlar Fate: Young Zaundads getting togehter story, a very cool approach to Felicia (being a much younger Jinx like little sister type character) and impeccable world building.

Grading on a Curve: Eeeeeee, sexy, funny college AU with jock!Vander and standoffish!Silco.

Please Be Rude: Modern AU: I must have a soft spot for nervous wreck Silco.

The Lightkeeper: Siren!Silco targets the mysterious new lighthouse keeper. Siren!Silco x Werewolf!Vander. I really dig the hints at siren background lore and see above for my soft spot for chaotic wreck Silco. It did take me a couple of chapters to really get into it, but once things heat up between Silco and Vander, I'm definitley there.

"Inofficial Subscription List":

this isn't actually on my subscription list, but I have an eye out for them. Some of them are quite new, so I'm still not sure whether they'll be my thing.

This Devotion May Contain Side Effects: yeah, yeah, it's the comments/praise here on tumblr that convinced me to check it out. I like to pretend that fics that focus on dad-ly stuff (in this case Silco and Vander, particularly Silco, taking in and raising orphan Viktor) can't get me, but this one really is as good, though hints of Vander's dark side vis a vis Silco are starting to show up. But it's generally very good and good depiction of the darkness Zaunites have to put up with.

Pinned Under Glass: There seems to be a good season for Silco torture. AU where Silco got captured by an evil enforcer and slowly over years got turned into his pet bride. Vander stumbles across him and is shocked when Silco pretends not to recongnize him. The tags forsee dark stuff but the setup intrigued me.

Falling Downwards Into The Light: Between Lightkeeper, Pinned Under Glass, things like Hound Goes Feral I think I might an unhealthy fondness for captured Silco. Here Vander is the capturer (when an injured Silco drags himself towards the Last Drop after some... business with a chem baron). Vander is quite dark, Silco is very crafty. (it reminded me quite a lot of a similar story by Rimeko) I don't know whether it will end up being too dark for my taste, but so far I'm still reading.

Full House: This author has written some banger Vander/Jayce daddykink. I didn't feel their solo Vander/Silco prequel quite as much, but I have my eye on this. Silco and Vander reunite and imo their chemistry is so thick to me as world weary older men reuniting, even though they are just having a conversation (I might also have a secret fondness for the trope of Vander instantly dumping Jayce the second Silco shows up). I hope I will ike the foursome with JayVik that the tags promise. And I just love the mental image of how Silco has spent his time away as a letter column/agony aunt/sex advice columnist so much.

I wish somebody would write this as a full fledged fic, I feel Silco's agony aunt response letters would be hilarious.

[note that I'm personally super bad at reading things if I missed the beginning and it feels like it already has too many chapters by the time I get into it, there's highly rated, regularly updating wips that I'm scaredy cat about getting into even though it's on my todo list]

[ykscarlett]

headcanons || valeria garza || pt.1

warning: this is only my opinion about her!!, minors dni, a slight mention of smut, lesbian relationship, a little bit angst ig, grammar, if I missed something, please write to me about it.

a/n: the first post. I'm really looking forward to your opinions and reblogs.

copying, translation, and use hc without my permission is prohibited & ykscarlett only on tumblr

with love, scarlett

My headcanons about Valeria (without mentioning revealing her as ‘el sin nombre’ and meeting with Ale) + bonus "if you are finally in a relationship with Valeria."

A former officer of the Mexican Special Forces, and now the leader of a criminal cartel, can show feelings? Can she be gentle to someone? Seriously?

Or maybe to lo– no, not to love, but rather, it's very good to improvise that she feels something for her partner, because she is very good at pretending. Too good, I'd say.

Love is something unknown to her.

Something that she failed to feel both as a child and in adulthood.

Something forbidden.

Something that she is deprived of and that she will never feel.

Let's be honest, she won't be able to love someone.

But I'm not saying she doesn't need love.

She didn't read the romantic books that all her girls-classmates flowed from. (and yes, her parents forced her to get a good education first, and then go into the military)

She didn't date anyone from school, while other girls switched boyfriends.

She realized that she was attracted to girls only at sixteen, when a pretty stranger in a club kissed her.

And she always used girls only to satisfy her pleasure. Of course, there are hints of sadism in her, after all, she personally tortures all her prisoners, but sexually there is a difference.

She will never cause real pain.

It can humiliate you, it can turn you into a wet, whimpering mess, it can make you faint from the pace and overexcitation, but it will never hurt if we engage in intimacy with you.

Well. In her opinion, love is overrated. This feeling is nothing more than a facade of a person's emotional weakness. And Valeria cannot allow herself to be weak in something, and especially towards someone.

But if you ask her "What is love for you?", I think she will answer something like this: "It's hard to explain.. it can mean something different to everybody. It's a feeling, a connection between people. A desire to protect someone more than yourself, and to be there for each other, no matter what. And it can be an incredibly powerful force, one that can change the world and bring people together in unexpected ways. For some, love is simply a chemical reaction, a biological instinct driven to perpetuate and propagate our species. And for others, it's a mystical concept that transcends time, space and logic."

She was definitely not in a real healthy relationship, I guarantee you that. And there's not much time for love when your life is constantly under threat. She had many affairs with girls and women, several with men (there were only two of them, the first was a trial, the second was proof that the opposite sex had no chance with her; and no, she did not date Alejandro, if they were together, Mexico would be on fire)

She's in the drug trade, man. This is unacceptable to me, drugs are evil, but in the case of Valeria... I do not know how to justify this, it is unacceptable to me.

She's a first-class manipulator. She can achieve absolutely anything she wants, only if she really wants to. Single–mindedness is another important character trait of hers. She will use any goals and any connections, any ways and break any rules to get what she has in mind... Or who.

But Val is not as bad as you think, I'm describing her. I think she just won't let herself fall in love. She's afraid of hurting someone she loves...to whom she will get attached because of her activities. She is engaged in criminal cases and every night she falls asleep (if suddenly, thank God, she gets the opportunity) with the thought "will I survive tomorrow?".

She's being hunted. Many. She runs a huge drug cartel, makes big deals, runs criminal gangs... Another reason to be alone and sometimes ask an assistant to order a little fucktoy.

But what if you win her heart so that she practically forgets about all her principles?

Bonus.

How you got to her, decide for yourself, whether it's captivity, recruitment or your own decision. There are many options.

At first, she will deny feeling for you.

Literally.

She will try to avoid you everywhere and in everything, she will start talking even colder, but she will surreptitiously watch you and with her own hands she will take care of that bully who is part of her cartel to show him that it is better not to even talk to you, let alone touch your waist. I don't think I need to say that the next day, and in fact, he will never appear in this building.

Initially, she will be a 'secret' lover. She will show signs of attention, but as imperceptibly as possible and goddamn you will understand that this is her, this is a woman who has not been trained in anything.

You will hook her, most likely, not with beauty, but simply with yourself. Time is important for Valeria, if it does not concern one-night stands. Time to take a closer look, time to realize, time to fall in love, time to come up with a way to confess, time to try to forget you, time to realize what really is...fuck..fell in love.

She notices the little things.

She is very attentive and sometimes it's even creepy. She notices if you have eaten before she sends you to transfer the goods, if you have not eaten, then she will send one of her assigned ones along with a package of typical goodies. She notices you drawing little drawings in the margins of your notebook while she talks about upcoming deals. She notices that a patch has appeared on your index finger, apparently you accidentally cut yourself with a knife again, imagining yourself *some famous chef* and be sure that there will be a pack of patches and one flower on your bedside table.

Valeria has never liked flowers. But for your sake, she became addicted to the colors of red. Red...as blood...and even here she went crazy. In my opinion, she would always give a long red rose with uncut, sharp thorns.

Without noticing it, she becomes softer towards you than towards her other 'employees'.

Since she is a woman with money, she can pamper you with gifts that you have been dreaming about for a long time, and the cartel's personal courier will say that it is from an old relative/aunt/former classmate/fourth cousin on dad's sister's side.

Okay, let's move away from the period of easy falling in love and move on to some of the facts that await you in a relationship with her.

Her gentle nature may or may not reveal itself. She can gently kiss your lips and easily cover your entire neck with bruises, which is why you get sidelong glances from your teammates and an arrogant look from V. She can gently and slowly play with your pussy, treating it like a crystal vase, or she can spank your pussy, bite your hips until red stripes appear and fuck hard with a strap-on.

Speaking of the latter, she doesn't have many. One is standard, one that you can safely accept and enjoy it, the second is an ordinary dildo with protruding parts and the third is a long one if you've done something and she can't wait to vent her disappointment on you.

Before entering into an intimate relationship with you, she will definitely discuss what is acceptable for you, what is not and what is categorically not. This is another manifestation of love on her part.

If you return wounded after the mission, she will swear at everyone and take you to her office, where, cursing menacingly, she will begin to treat your wounds, after which she will gently kiss each one, as if taking all the pain for himself.

Another bonus.

A few days ago, she asked you to sleep with her. Of course, you agreed, and a few minutes after her proposal, you were lying on her chest in her big bed, in which she practically does not sleep, because sitting on a chair is more familiar to sleep and she stroked your hair. She can't help but wonder why she's showing such tenderness to you. Her brain tries in every possible way to reason with her, to return her to her usual cold and inaccessible lifestyle, to her comfort zone. But she moves away from these thoughts to thoughts of you, who is peacefully snuffling on her chest like a child.

Grinning at the comparison of you with a child, she pretended not to think about how just yesterday you sucked on her tits, sucking them to such an extent that your drool flowed between her large and soft breasts, continuing to stroke your head and occasionally kissing your forehead.

///

But she was gone for a long time last night. She's back in her office. You knew that for sure. Before your relationship, you often ran to her about assignments and even late at night she was always there.

So you got out of bed, wrapped yourself in a blanket, put on your slippers and went to her office. You knocked.

"Busy." Her menacing voice rang out.

She's unhappy about something, you thought, and whispered. "Valeria? May I?"

When she heard your voice, she froze in place and only after a few seconds shouted, "Come in, cariño."

You went inside and sure enough, Garza's desk was filled with papers, empty coffee cups and wrappers from her favorite candies. I'm sure she has a sweet tooth. It sounds silly, but I think it's almost the only thing that will make her smile out of pleasure, not disgust or something like that.

"Can't you sleep without me?" She replied sarcastically.

"Yes." You answered quite seriously and she understood it.

She patted her knees and said meekly, "Come here, dulzura."

When you sat down and put your arms around her neck, resting your head on her shoulder, she leaned her ear against the top of your head and put one arm around your waist, continuing to work with documents.

"Sit here for now. I'll be done soon and we'll go to bed, I'll take you to bed. Sleep well...mi pequeña princesa."

covers: https://pin.it/5K9iR3NJ7

the meanings of some words in Spanish:

cariño - darling

dulzura - sweetness

mi pequeña princesa - my little princess

[jinkieswouldyoulookatthis]

Anti-destiel Wank (sorry but I have to)

If you hardcore ship Destiel, please just scroll on by. Please.

Ok, I'm gonna get myself in trouble, I'm sure, but I gotta get this off my chest...

Destiel may be a perfectly fine ship,

but,

IT'S JUST A SHIP.

In the actual context of the show there IS NO ROMANTIC OR SEXUAL TENSION/RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN DEAN AND CAS.*

Full fucking stop.

Subtext can be interpreted in ANY WAY YOU WANT. It is subjective. You will find whatever you look for in it. Please stop waving subtext interpretations around as if they were objective facts, they aren't. Subtext, by its very definition, relies on implied meaning and understanding, this means it is a subjective interpretation of the media that varies from viewer to viewer. The inherent variations are what make it fanon/headcanon instead of canon.

If you see tension of that sort there and it makes you happy to postulate the what if, then go ahead, that is what fanon and head canon and fan fiction is all about. But if the fact that the tension you think you see isn't being addressed in actual canon makes you grumpy, maybe you need to take some of the fanatic out of your fanning. If you are beginning to think the show creators are actively trying to repress Dean's "true sexuality and feelings" because they are evil, you might need to consider that you've dug in too deep.

Because, like I ship wincest. Yeah, I said it. But I am aware that canon doesn't actually include any level of sexual or romantic (in the modern sense) relationship between Sam and Dean. Wincest is not canon.

Now, are Sam and Dean the real "love" story of the show? Yes, yes they are. That has always been 100% the entire point of Supernatural, the great love story of two brothers struggling to save the world together. It's about family and everything that means, but at its heart, it is about Sam and Dean WInchester. Not all kisses and cuddles and sex kind of love, but love nonetheless. Full stop.

Now, the fact that Destiel is such a popular ship is not surprising to me in the least. Jensen and Misha are two gorgeous guys who share a lot of chemistry on screen and off. And, it is canon that Cas loves Dean. That has been evident since Lazarus Rising (4x01) when Cas was introduced. Castiel's love of Dean Winchester has been his character's main motivation all along and culminated with Cas sacrificing himself to save Dean, after telling him that he loved him in Despair (15x18)

But Dean's main motivation has always been to watch out for his brother. And though Castiel became Dean's best friend, he still comes second to Sam. Nothing against Cas, he just isn't Sam.

So why are so many people so absolutely convinced that Destiel is so real within the context of the story?

Well, I'm pretty sure that it is the same reason that they are so opposed to the idea of wincest.

As we all know, incest is bad, mmmkay? Incest is probably one of the biggest, strongest, cultural taboos we have. So it makes perfect sense that the idea of two blood-related brothers having sexual or romantic feelings for each other is considered icky. It's so off putting that it is a complete no go for even fantasizing about for most people. And that's probably a good thing, tbh, incest should be taboo. But where does that taboo spring from? Why is it so deeply off limits? There are several reasons, but the two main ones are:

That incest can lead to inbreeding.

That incest too often involves molestation or rape of children.

Both of these are seriously bad enough that we all pretty much collectively agree to avoid incestuous relationships. But, do either of these two reasons really apply in the case of Sam and Dean?

The short answer is no. Primarily this is because they are fictional characters that are being played by unrelated actors. But to humor the objectors we'll look at it closer.

We can take the first one right off the table. As two cis men, neither of them is capable of becoming pregnant, so outside of the mpreg (male pregnancy) or gender bending subsets of fanfic tropes, this is not applicable.

The second reason only becomes an issue when talking about the characters earlier in their lives, pre-show or flashbacks. Weecest or teencest, or whatever, are things, but these typically have separate ship names for a reason, because even when dealing with fictional characters this squicks a lot of folks who are otherwise down with the wincest ship. So most content is tagged or labeled as its specific flavor, so anyone can find it or avoid it. But wincest that involves adult Sam and Dean (the specific pairing I'm referring to in this post) doesn't apply to the second reason listed above.

So there really is nothing morally wrong with Sam and Dean having sex with each other. I know that statement is going to bother a whole lot of people, but it is true. Just because something is taboo does not automatically make it morally wrong. Being gay used to be taboo in our culture, and is still taboo for way too many people, even though there is nothing morally wrong with homosexuality.

Now, I wasn't in the fandom back at the beginning of the show, but I've heard tell that the very first Sam/Dean fic was posted just a few hours after the pilot episode aired. A few hours, that's all it took for some highly motivated fan to type out a story where they were more than just brothers. The story is called Reunion. If you watch the pilot, even with your anti-incest goggles on, the chemistry between Jared and Jensen is palpable throughout. There is a reason the show lasted for 15 years, and that reason is that Sam and Dean just work on screen so well together. So if it only took one episode for that ship to be born, what did all the future destiel shippers do? Well I imagine they felt somewhat uncomfortable for the first 60 episodes.

Flash forward to season four and the introduction of Castiel. Finally there was another male character for fans squicked by the notion of sweet, sweet brother loving to focus on! Cas was clearly fixated on Dean more than Sam, which followed the plot since Cas had been instructed to rescue Dean from Hell. As it would turn out, the brothers were destined to be the meatsuits that Michael and Lucifer wore to the big prize fight to determine the fate of the world. Prepping Sam for Lucifer involved him consuming demon blood, which made most of the angelic host view him as an abomination, a factor that Cas had to learn to get past in his relationship with the younger brother. But Dean was ready to go right out of the box, no assembly required for Michael. Castiel, and many of his angelic brethren, as well as a lot of Demons, seem to be drawn to Dean in a way that they just aren't drawn to Sam. Is this fair? Hell no. But I mean, look at him! Jensen has sexual tension with literally everything he comes in contact with, people, food, his car, the man oozes sexual attraction. Don't get me wrong, Jared is a sexy fucking ball of sunshine, and our Sammy is a damned attractive man, but he tends to be more repressed and less openly sexual than his brother, so it is what it is.

Where was I going with this? That's a good question. I got a bit distracted, sorry. Oh right...

At its root, destiel is a reactive projection. There is undeniable tension between characters in the show. Since all of the main cast are male, that tension is highly homoerotic. The two main characters, who are undeniably emotionally enmeshed and co-dependent with each other (a very well established canon fact btw), happen to be blood-related brothers. Oh no! Where is all that tension coming from since we cannot admit or accept that it's coming from them? Ah ha! Here is a new male character that we like, yes, it is obviously coming from his interactions with one of the brothers, even though he wasn't in the first 60 episodes. Yes, it all makes perfect sense now, all that tension was merely foreshadowing.

I've read through all the destiel subtext posts. I've gone back and watched all the scenes they reference multiple times with the express purpose of finding destiel. I'm telling you it is just a fanon ship. Which is 100% fine and good, ship that ship, just stop declaring it more canon than canon, because it's not.

And if you don't like fictional incest, cool, cool, you don't have to. But the underlying sexual tension existed in the first 60 episodes prior to Misha being cast on the show, so it was coming from somewhere. And it'd be cooler if you learned how to scroll past people shipping wincest, like I'm sure you do for all the other weirdass, squicky shit that people post all over the internet. But if it makes your heart beat a little faster to imagine that Dean and Cas have eyesex but that Dean and Sam don't, that's fine. I think it's delusional because neither ship is actually canon and both are 100% A-Ok in fanon, and honestly Jensen doesn't seem to be able to control his eyes, which is not something anyone should feel bad about (it's fucking marvelous) but you do you.

*Castiel does love Dean. He confessed as much, but Dean did not reciprocate. What I am referencing is a mutual romance or attraction, which does not exist.

[dreamweave01]

now it seems that the spirits demand more info on this swap au (specifically foot clan and other villains)

No of course I didn't forget to answer this idk what you're talking about that doesn't sound like me at all 👀

Admittedly, I don't really have a ton thought out. I kinda didn't realize just how many villains the turtles have in 2012 until I got to working on it lol.

The foot were still wiped out by the Hamato back when Oroku Saki was too young to remember. Splinter took over the Hamato and basically made them evil for lack of a simpler explanation.

Shit went down, and Oroku Saki took in Karai/Miwa and decided to flee to the States. He received aid in his and his adopted daughter's escape from a close friend of his, Takeshi, (a.k.a. Tigerclaw UwU).

In this au, Tigerclaw is still a bounty hunter. However, he's a good man who lives by a strict code. He may be the best of the best, but he refuses to kill a single soul, him seeing the act of taking another's life as horrendous.

Once in the U.S., Tigerclaw returned to Japan, continuing with his line of work while personally keeping an eye on the Hamato as a means to protect Saki. He visits maybe once or twice a year, and is a beloved uncle figure to Karai.

Now, in the states, Oroku Saki didn't really know anyone. He was in a foreign country with a foreign culture; on top of that, he's a single father trying to care for a young girl barely a year old. It's a lot to handle alone.

Until one day, while Saki and Karai were grocery shopping in the big city, (Karai being the adventurous toddler I'm sure she was) decided to wander off when her adopted father wasn't looking.

Saki nearly had a heart attack, searching for what felt like hours before finally finding two men playing with her outside of a russian themed bakery.

They introduced themselves as Anton Zeck and Ivan Steranko (who would later be given the nicknames Bebop and Rocksteady by Raphael)

Ivan and Anton would become close friends with Saki, acting as Karai's adopted uncles.

The russian themed bakery? That's owned by Ivan, using his Babushka's old recipes to recreate what he calls an "Authentic Mother-Russia Experience"

I'm still trying to figure out what Anton does for a living. What I do know however is that he spends way too much of his time trying to sneak into Ivan's kitchen.

The two are a bit eccentric, but they're loyal to the end.

In case it isn't clear already, I swapped Rocksteady with Murakami San, and tagged Bebop along because I didn't dare separate the dynamic duo <3

Hopefully that answers your question!

[tavina-writes]

I’ve kind of had this post/a version of this post brewing for two weeks or more now, but like, last night I left a discord community I’d been a part of since the pandemic, where I was one of the first and founding members, over something that I guess could be considered “not that big a deal” and that was definitely…something that stung certainly. Typically, I’m not exactly a “pack up it’s time to hit the bricks” sort of person, and overall I think I can say that I’m fairly? okay/open to talking about things in a way that’s meant to be explanatory/educational especially as it comes to be Chinese Diaspora.

Yet I also think that at this point it was impossible for me to stay because at this point I am so sick and tired of the rampant Sinophobia that exists in fandom spaces, especially ones that demand that CMedia caters to their sense of aesthetics regarding pretty gay men while fetishizing/refusing to engage with the very real problems that Chinese Diaspora/Chinese Nationals face, especially when we try to point things out.  

In this case, this particular discussion was brought about re: a discussion about Falun Gong. which is a cult. And when I pointed out that saying “only China and Russia will be happy about a decrease in US hegemony on the global stage” was uhhh pretty Sinophobic of them (admittedly, not politely and perhaps too emotionally for people to take me seriously), they responded with “It’s my right to criticize whatever country I want actually even if it’s one you like and you can’t just accuse me of -phobia or whatever because of this” along with some other stuff that basically amounted to “I have 0 empathy about a number of very personal issues that you’re currently facing because I’m not American and your country sliding into fascism is your own fault wah wah cry harder.” 

Given that I’d known this person for going on four or more years now, this was…really a “ah, we’ve completely lost you to multiple brands of Kool Aid here” moment. And instead of staying to argue my point, or to try to explain that maybe this server that was primarily about anime with a smattering of cdrama on the side really shouldn’t be so chill with this sort of talk (After all, how often is it that someone prefaces their love of anime with: oh but don’t worry! I don’t support anything that the Imperial Japanese Government Did or anything they’re currently or have done in the past to Ainu people!) I decided to leave. 

In some sense, I feel like I’ve overstayed my welcome. I’d become this sort of killjoy, you see, because there’s only so many times you can point out a problem to a person or a group without starting to becoming that one person that’s too serious or always stomping on other people’s fun or policing them for “incorrect” expressions of their thoughts or whatever. 

And this brings me to the like “what is a killjoy?” part of this thought because so much of life is about those sorts of battles: when do I think it might be safe to express an opinion? When do I think it’s okay to say “hey that wasn’t a great statement to make, cut it out” ? How often do I think I might be supported or heard when it comes to something like that? Who am I creating pushback for — the person who said something shitty or the other people who might not realize or not know what to say in response to something shitty? 

So much of the time, I err on the side of trying to explain that Chinese people, ethnically Chinese diaspora, Chinese nationals, whatever are people who gasp! Have thoughts and feelings and possess a modicum of intelligence perhaps like you do, instead of just saying “oh fuck off” or fucking off myself. So much of the time, I debate whether it’s polite to mention that this thirst to see pretty gay Asian men combined with this blanket rage at “censorship by the evil government” (as if censorship regarding queer subjects does not exist in the English speaking west) or “government propaganda” (as if, laughably, governmental propaganda does not exist in the English speaking west) is in fact, actively alienating to those who are ethnically Chinese. 

Or if perhaps, by stretching and bending and purposefully misunderstanding the customs of Chinese characters and erasing their names and traditions and refusing to engage with our holidays and substituting your own is a form of microaggressive violence towards those in your fandom community who are Chinese. 

After all, if I do point this out, it’s a matter of “Tav, literally we just want WangXian to celebrate Christmas, it’s harmless.” (We will refuse to learn about new years traditions beyond Gong Xi Fa Cai and exaggerated bows and we will refuse to engage with Qingming or Mid Autumn or ancestor worship or filial piety if we even know what those are because those aren’t sexy and familiar as decorating a fucking Christmas tree after all.) 

As for exactly what this particular longtime acquaintance had said was my own fault re: America’s slide into fascism — my youngest maternal cousin died two weeks ago, and my mother is too terrified of leaving the country to go to his memorial service because she’s afraid that as a green card holder, she won’t be able to make it back into the country to ever see her husband or daughters again with the way this current administration is handling things. 

He was twenty four years old and his parents’ only child. 

But yes, perhaps I was impolite in my expression of what I was afraid of.

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

A New Light (Angst/Fluff)

(First Gen)TLR!Turtles x reader

A/N: I just had to. Had to show the babies some love, making them fit into my writing in some way. One family that sticks together😭🖤💚

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You’ve lost your turtle to the war, and now, many years later, you’re part of a new family, helping your friend April and her daughter Casey Marie with raising their four small turtles.

Warnings: Loss of loved ones and everything that comes with it.

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So many years had passed since you last saw him. So many years since the cruel war took him away from you. So many years since this cruel world decided to take the love of your life away from you in the most brutal way possible. Taking his last breath and taking the light straight out of his eyes. Oh, how you had spent many nights crying, screaming out in agony over your loss. Why did he had to go like that? Why did the world have to be so evil? You used to ask yourself those questions a lot as the world fell apart around you.

But even though it had been many years, you never forgot his eyes. You never forget his voice, his smile or the way his arms felt around you. And you had promised yourself that you would never let yourself forget his smell, using his old t-shirts as pillow cases on rough days. Heck, you even managed to get April to help you move his old mattress into your room, reminding you of all the nights you had spent in each other’s arms, dreaming about your future together. Oh, how bright everything had seemed back then. You were both so young back then. Young and in love with the whole world in front of you, just waiting for the two of you to take a chance. And looking back, you probably should have taken that chance sooner.

All those I loved yous, all the kisses and all those dreams of living and growing old together. Sometimes you wondered if those dreams was ever meant to be reality. Like said before, the world was cruel, and to you and the man you loved, it had decided to be extra hard.

There were times where you wondered what you would have done if you hadn't found April after the explosion. Who knew, maybe you wouldn’t even had been there to this day today. With everything that happened before and after, you weren’t exactly sure. But you were grateful for April. She had always been one of your closest friends, and in those dark times of your lives, the two of you became especially close. Both of you had lost your friends, your family and the men you loved. It was hard, but you managed it.

During those times, one of your brightest lights was Casey Marie. You and April did everything in your power to keep her safe, watching her grow up to become a strong, beautiful and independent woman. And even after the world crumbled before you a second time, she stayed strong, reminding you how there was always light after the dark. How life was a constraint circle, with new opportunities and new beginnings making themself visible after something has ended. And how well that was proven with the turtles.

When Casey Marie became a mother, you were joyous. Not just happy for the woman that you had started to view as a much younger sister, but for the children she had brought to the world through the work she had put in, in her own mother’s lab. Four bright and happy baby turtles, each with their own distinct personality, likes and dislikes. With their presence the lair grew lighter in color, as flowers and fresh water made their way in, creating a picturesque palace for you and your family to live. And oh, how these turtles reminded you of them. And most importantly, they reminded you of him.

Much like Leonardo, Uno was quick to learn from his mother’s training, proving himself to be quite talented when it came to training. And like Leo sometimes would do, Uno liked to show off. Except, Uno did not know how to keep it subtle, often doing handstands for the most mundane things, causing his siblings great frustration when he told them high and mighty, how much better he was than them. But while Leo was patient, never making any sudden decisions, Uno was the total opposite. He was impatient, quick to call his siblings names, especially Odyn, or make sudden rash decisions. If he didn’t do push ups or did rounds in the lair, he would become fidgety, nagging his siblings for attention, which usually became Moja, whenever the poor girl just wished to be left alone.

Speaking of Moja, the small music loving turtle, reminded you a lot of Raphael. She liked to keep to herself, often walking around with a pair of headphones on her head, listening to whatever cassettes she could get her small three fingered hands on. It calmed her down and kept her focused, just like Raph’s knitting used to do. It was like a hobby for her, searching her uncles’ old stuff through for something to listen to. You still clearly remembered the day she came and asked if you knew anything about Joy Division. Just like Raph, Moja was not about to let any injustice pass by, often getting mad at Uno for calling their brother a so-called fatty. And just like Leo and Raph, Uno and Moja butted heads a lot, often getting into fights over small things, such as whether or not they should train during their free time. Yet somehow they were also the bestest of friends, enjoying each other's company while playing on whatever device they had managed to sneak into the kitchen.

Yi, sweet, wonderful little Yi. You had never seen someone's eyes shine as bright as her’s at the mention of a garage. But Yi’s did, and they did so every time. At times you wondered if that was how Donatello used to have the same sparkle in his eyes, whenever Splinter brought him something to open up and pull apart. Maybe his insides tingled more at the sight of machinery than his eyes did. He had always been more reserved, where Yi was loud and spontaneous, with a constant big smile on her face. But as spontaneous as Yi could be, she still had a hard time when things were out of order. When Sensei Casey told her to do something, she did the exact thing, no more, no less. Nothing else would go against the words of her Sensei, and Yi simply could not handle that, getting anxious at the thought. But just like Donnie, she was ambitious with any ideas, all waiting to be explored in grammy April’s garage.

And then there was Odyn, the big turtle with a heart of pure gold. He reminded you of a young Michelangelo for several reasons. Other than his love for food, and his immense hunger that could cause him so much pain that he almost became immobile, Odyn had a heart too big for the world around him, just like Mikey used to have. Odyn was a peaceful turtle, often just wanting everyone to get along and become friends, just like his chess pieces had done, much to Yi’s dismay. He was like this big walking teddy bear that just begged to be hugged, and oftentimes he would do just that, reaching his arms out for a hug. He had these big round eyes that looked at you with so much innocent love and curiosity. And you swore, that sometimes that you felt like you were looking directly into the eyes of Mikey himself.

You could not help but let a tear fall as you looked through your old pictures of you and them. You, him, his brothers and his father. All of you, Casey and April, together like the happy family you were back then. Just as happy as the one you had now. How you wished they would have been here to see them. How you wished he would have been here with you, watching his nephews and nieces train just like he and his brothers did. He would have loved them. They would all have loved them.

“Aunty..?”

You looked up from your photos and towards your door, sitting up in your bed at the sound of the small voice. Yi stood in your door, her hand still holding onto the doorknob right above her head, her eyes watery.

“Hey, sweet pea”, you smiled, quickly wiping away your own tears. “What’s up?”, you asked.

“I had a nightmare”, she sniffled. “Grammy April is not home right now, and Sensei is reading Master Michelangelo’s journal”.

“That’s okay, sweetheart”, you smiled, tapping on the bed beside you. “You can stay with me if you want”.

Leaving the door open, Yi walked into the room, climbing onto the bed. She was quick to notice the pictures that were laying about, picking one of them up. “Is that our uncles?”

“Yes”, you smiled a little bittersweet, looking at the selfie Mikey had taken of you, him, Donnie, Leo and Raph, all smiling at the camera. “It’s them”.

Yi studied the picture closely, her childlike wonder making her eyes light up, before she went on to the next picture, having forgotten everything about her nightmare, as she held a third picture up to you, once again asking who was who and what you were doing.

“Yi”, Uno’s voiced sound from the open door. He yawned as he rubbed his eyes, blinking so he could get used to the light of your room. “You woke me up”.

“Then go back to sleep”, Yi said, finding yet another photo.

“I can’t”, Uno grumbled, crossing his arms. “Odyn is snoring, and Moja would let me borrow her headphones”.

“You can just get your own”, Moja’s voice sounded in the hallway, before she too came into view in the doorway. “Hey, what are you doing?”

“Just looking at pictures of our uncles”, Yi said, leaning up against you with a photo up in front of her eyes.

“Ow! Can we see them too?”, Uno asked.

“Of course you can”, you smiled, gesturing towards your big bed. “There’s space for everyone”.

Moja was quick to find a spot beside Yi, looking at whatever picture she had in her hands. Uno, the ever active turtle stood on the end of your bed, flipping through the pictures in his head, looking up just as Odyn came through the door.

“Hey”, the large turtle whimpered. “Where did you all go?”

“Into aunt (Y/N)’s room, obviously”, Uno said, not looking away from the photo in his hand.

Odyn looked over the bed, before making his way over to your other side, cuddling up against you. “Well, I don’t like being alone”, he mumbled, pulling your arm around him, making him feel safe.

“Then it’s just your luck that I always have space for you”, you smiled, hugging him against you, making the large turtle laugh.

“Aunty (Y/N)”, Yi asked, holding a photo up to you. “Why is our uncle kissing you?”

Your heart fluttered and broke a little at the sight. It was you and him, in the same lair, in the same main area. He was hugging you from behind, a large smile over your face as he kissed your cheek. You clearly remembered that day. It was Casey who had taken the picture while none of you noticed it, bringing a printed copy to you a few days later. For a long time it stood in a frame in your boyfriend’s room, just on his bedside table. But after everything that happened, it was hurting you too much to have the picture standing out in the open, so you packed it away with the other pictures, only bringing it out on bad days.

“Obviously because they were together, dummy”, Uno said, letting himself fall down on the bed in order to sit down.

“Be nice!”, Moja snarled at her brother, holding her sister tight, making Uno mumble something along the lines of “whatever”.

“Together?”, Odyn asked, his eyes big in excitement. “Like boyfriend and girlfriend?”

“Yes”, you smiled down at him. “Just like boyfriend and girlfriend”.

“I want to hear! I want to hear!”, Yi yelled, throwing herself onto your lap, with a smile so big she couldn’t keep her eyes open.

“What do you want to hear?”, you asked with a laugh.

“Everything!”, she yelled, throwing herself onto her shell, stretching her arms out like a sea star. “How you met! First kiss! I want to know! - Gasp! Did you get married?! Please tell me you did!”

“My ears”, Uno whimpered, covering his ears with both his hands, making Moja growl at him once more.

“I also want to hear”, Odyn smiled, his big eyes shining.

You smiled at the four turtles, and how they all looked at you with anticipation. Odyn with his big eyes, Yi who was already crawling onto your lap for a good seat, Uno that had started rocking himself back and furth, and Moja who calmly rested her head against the headboard, waiting for you to start your story. It was during moments like these, that you realized how lucky you was. Though the pain of losing the love of your life and his brothers still stung in your heart, you couldn’t help but feel grateful to the world for bringing these four wonderful kids into your life, shining a whole new light on your everyday life, healing your pain more and more with each passing day.

“Okay”, you smiled. “But listen up, there is a lot. It all started when me and your uncle was 15. Back then, I had never heard of such a thing, such as a teenage mutant ninja turtle…”