#reagan replies

[13tinysocks]

still can't believe you described Tim as having a "Hank Hill" ass is syg. every time i think of him i can't get that out of my head. literally haunts me. just had to get that off my chest.

(love your work btw)

Yeah but ticci toby seeing a pussy and saying poggers negates anything funny that happens in syg

#stright to jail 2020 reagan #reply #anon #syg hate hours!!!!!

[survibers]

"Oh jesus," Reagan groaned as she started to wake up, her eyes taking a minute to adjust as she tried to figure out where the fuck she was. It had been a blur of a night that had started with drinks at Julio's had turned into hanging out with a group of people she hadn't met before but they had some good stuff on them and there had been a cute guy giving her the attention she was craving that night. It had gone from the mall to the wastoid club where Reagan was too well known at by this point. But at some point she had parted ways with the group, black out and always a wanderer. But instead of making it home to her own bed, she had woken up on the grass outside of where people lived. She rubbed at her eyes as she finally sat up, the sun greeting her as she heard footsteps coming towards her. "Uh can someone tell me where the fuck I am and what time it is? And for the love of god does anyone have a cigarette?" @shrikestart

#shrikestart #reagan reply #feel free to assume connections #esp if someone has roommates who could've been the dude she was w all night lOl #posted w beta #also could be in someones apt instead of the grass but that seemed most logical LOL

[technicallyblakebelladonna]

Paramount is apart of amptp so sadly I also really wanna watch the lesbian werewolf movie but I gotta support the strikers so I will not

yeah when i saw the premise and the post i was like COOL!!!!! and then i clicked on the trailer and saw paramount and went Yikes. makes me wonder how it was made, if it was scabbed or something or idk what. it IS going almost directly to VOD though it looks like so i mean. idk. could just do the good skull and crossbones yarrr thing? idk. i hate the AMPTP

#ray replies #random reagan rambles #anon

[nebula-drcams]

monmuses asked: [PARTY] - our muses go to a beach/pool party (Brett @ Reagan bc BEACH PARTY LETS GOOOO)

BEACH / POOL STARTERS  || Accepting

"Brett slow down! You're going to leave everyone behind." Okay, maybe he actually wouldn't considering the other co-workers were all running for the beach just as he was, Reagan was still trailing behind slightly. Then again, she was carrying the cooler full of drinks, more like it was dragging behind her slightly.

"Will you at least come help me with this so we can get it to our spot before we all go running for the water?" By we, she means the other co-workers, because she for sure was not going in the water. Not without being difficult about it anyway. Still, they needed to get their spot set up before they did anything anyway.

#monmuses #leaves it open so you can reply to it #★ ► 𝓦𝓱𝓪𝓽'𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓸𝓲𝓷𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝓾𝓷𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓬𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓹𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓻 𝓲𝓯 𝔀𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝓷'𝓽 𝓪𝓫𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝓲𝓽? ◄⌠Reagan Ridley ⌡ #★► 𝓑𝓾𝓽 𝔀𝓮 𝓴𝓮𝓮𝓹 𝓸𝓷 𝓻𝓾𝓷𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓷𝓸 𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝔀𝓱𝓸'𝓼 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓲𝓷𝓰 ◄⌠Reagan & Brett ⌡ #★ ► 𝓥; 𝓒𝓸𝓰𝓷𝓲𝓽𝓸 𝓘𝓷𝓬 ◄ ⌠ Inside Job ⌡ #★ ► ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇꜱ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄ��ꜱᴍᴏꜱ ◄ ⌠ In Character ⌡ #★ ► ʟᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴀʀꜱ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ♥◄ ⌠ Ask Answered ⌡

[str4wberrybongw4ter]

hate seeing posts talking about all members of a generation as a monolith and explaining their behaviours away by saying shit like “reagan-era policies changed the way all young people think” most young people were not affected by reagan !! just add the word american !! you’re not talking about all of gen z you’re talking about white american people !!

#i just want to read about why gen z is so conservative and reactionary #but in the comments i see #’im not from the us but this is definitely not my experience’ #and the replies be filled with ‘well you’re clearly not looking hard enough bc we see reagan’s political era repercussions in everything’

[oqal]

the amount of muted ij accounts i have on twitter is embarrassing but

#it’s not even just people who ship ron/reagan anymore #for example the latest photo the ij twitter posted of reagan and gigi #looking through the replies is so embarrassing like people rlly act like this??? to creators???? in PUBLIC???? #couldn’t be me

[garlic-sauc3]

thinking about booster gold in a point and click game

#ive been infected by the video games #imagine a video game abt booster gold like when he first came to the 80s #and like when you click on something that you dont need atm or whatever its skeets replying with the message thing #and it follows along with the events of the comics when booster came to august 25th 1985 #with more freedoms and pathd than the og comics because its a video game #there should be an ending where you choose to kill ronald reagan instead i think

[flowercrownd]

   reagan ridley tags !

◜reagan: inbox / replies.◞ ◜reagan: in character.◞ ◜reagan: behavior.◞ ◜reagan: headcanon.◞ ◜reagan: mirror / faceclaim.◞ ◜reagan: isms.◞ ◜reagan: playlist.◞ ◜reagan: aesthetics.◞   ◜reagan: desires / shipping.◞   ◜reagan: attire.◞

◜reagan / v. main i.◞  🇮​ 🇰​🇳​🇴​🇼​ 🇮​ 🇨​🇦​🇳​ 🇲​🇦​🇰​🇪​ 🇹​🇭​🇪​ 🇼​🇴​🇷​🇱​🇩​ 🇦​ 🇧​🇪​🇹​🇹​🇪​🇷​ 🇵​🇱​🇦​🇨​🇪​.  ◜reagan / v. main ii.◞  🇮​ 🇵​🇷​🇴​🇲​🇮​🇸​🇪​🇩​ 🇲​🇾​🇸​🇪​🇱​🇫​ 🇮​ 🇼​🇴​🇺​🇱​🇩​🇳​‘🇹​ 🇩​🇮​🇪​ 🇦​🇹​ 🇼​🇴​🇷​🇰​ ﹗ ◜reagan / v. supervillain.◞  🇳​🇴​ 🇪​🇽​🇵​🇪​🇨​🇹​🇦​🇹​🇮​🇴​🇳​🇸​﹐ 🇳​🇴​ 🇩​🇮​🇸​🇦​🇵​🇵​🇴​🇮​🇳​🇹​🇲​🇪​🇳​🇹​🇸​. 

#◜reagan: in character.◞ #◜reagan: behavior.◞ #◜reagan: headcanon.◞ #◜reagan: inbox / replies.◞ #◜reagan: mirror / faceclaim.◞ #◜reagan: isms.◞ #◜reagan: playlist.◞ #◜reagan: aesthetics.◞ #◜reagan: desires / shipping.◞ #◜reagan: attire.◞ #◜reagan / v. main i.◞ 🇮 🇰🇳🇴🇼 🇮 🇨🇦🇳 🇲🇦🇰🇪 🇹🇭🇪 🇼🇴🇷🇱🇩 🇦 🇧🇪🇹🇹🇪🇷 🇵🇱🇦🇨🇪. #◜reagan / v. main ii.◞ 🇮 🇵🇷🇴🇲🇮🇸🇪🇩 🇲🇾🇸🇪🇱🇫 🇮 🇼🇴🇺🇱🇩🇳‘🇹 🇩🇮🇪 🇦🇹 🇼🇴🇷🇰 ﹗ #◜reagan / v. supervillain.◞ 🇳🇴 🇪🇽🇵🇪🇨🇹🇦🇹🇮🇴🇳🇸﹐ 🇳🇴 🇩🇮🇸🇦🇵🇵🇴🇮🇳🇹🇲🇪🇳🇹🇸.

[marlinspirkhall]

Humans sending out signal after signal, message after message, space probes, emails, photos, light shows, intergalactic fireworks, all in the hope that they're not alone: Please reply, please reply, please reply, ple–

Aliens, screeching across the universe in a brand new FTL ship: CAN YOU SHUT UP? WE GOT YOUR FIRST ONE THOUSAND MESSAGES, DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND HOW BIG SPACE IS?

Humans: oh my goooooosh, hi

Humans: Did you invent faster than light travel just for us? 🥺

Aliens: NO!!!

SETI: Radio message received.

Radio message: We are receiving you. We have decided to answer you in your own language, and–

SETI: New radio message received.

Aliens: Oh no.

Radio message: We have received your previous messages pertaining to life on Earth, and have included our own data packet about life on Big Tree in return. We named our planet before we learned it was only 30% arboreal. Thank you for the golden disc, it was extremely tasty. Haha. Just kidding.

SETI: Data packet downloaded. Decrypting...

SETI: New radio message received.

Radio message: As previously stated, we are receiving your messages and your gifts. We took a photo of our planet with our own photo-capture device, as we were unhappy with the one you provided.

SETI: Data packet update: Warning: Several terrabytes of information may be corrupted.

SETI: New radio message received.

Radio message: This is the Generation Ship Tree Hollow. My designation is Captain Root-Skygazer. Our people have instructed us to fly ahead and communicate with you when we reached the thirty-year marker, as these messages are likely to reach you faster. They request that you stop broadcasting messages with the subject line: 'Oh, how woeful it is to be alone in an uncaring universe (and other similar poems)' because it frightens the children and makes our scientists deeply existential. I, personally, am partial to episodes of M star A star S star H. It has been of great interest to learn historical facts about the longest Earth conflict of your common era. I miss my home, and I am saddened that I will never see yours. This ship has a self-sustaining ecosystem of plants native to our planet, and a crew manifest of one hundred and fifty-seven. The replacement generation currently numbers one hundred and seventeen.

Radio message: Hey, Ball Of Dirt, it's Big Tree again. Lose our number, would you? There must be some other semi-evolved space aemoba you can bother. (Several words untranslateable)

Aliens: Yeah, so your answering machine is going to be like that for a while–

Humans: What was that part about a Generation Ship?

Aliens: We were hoping you could tell us that, actually. We lost contact with them after the 200 year marker.

Radio message: This is the generation ship Tree Hollow. My designation is Captain Cradleroot. Captain Root-Skygazer was my grandfather. Inspired by the speeches of your contemporary leader, Ronald Reagan, I decided to restructure the existing system here which allowed crewmembers to eat as they required. Under this new system, we award tokens to whom we feel has done the most valuable work, and they can redistribute those to the hungry if they wish. But they do not. However, I believe that [...]

Humans:

Aliens:

Humans:

Aliens: This is all your fault, by the way.

#The Generation Ship Tree Hollow #Humans are space orcs #sci fi #writing

[imnameimswrld]

ⵌ ׄ ۪ 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐁𝐎𝐘 𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄 ¹⁶ ׄ ⑅ CL16 ‌˖ ֺ ᰮ

— DESCRIPTION ੭ alex's twin sister has had the hots for a certain blue eyed ferarri driver, and it's finally time to stake her claim on him.

— PAIRING ੭ charles x albon!reader.

— FILE ੭ social media au.

— WARNINGS ੭ language.

— FACE CLAIM ੭ tontawan tantivejakul.

━━━━━━━━━━❪ 🖤 ❫━━━━━━━━━━

alex_albon & yn_albon • 1 hr.

seen by charles_leclerc, landonorris, and 988 335 others

lilymhe replied to alex_albon story !

stop being mean to ur sister alexander.

landonorris replied to alex_albon story !

oh, so that's how it is ? golfing without me now ? okay. cool.

pierregasly relied to your story !

wooaahh, what's with the heart there girl ? trying to steal my man or something ?

get in line gasly, this boy is mine.

user replied to your story !

THE HEART MISS MA'AM !!?!?!?

THE BETTER TWIN

so golfing was fun guys !

we should totes do it again sometimes 😄

STUPID STINKY COPY & PASTE

why ?

so you can just stand there like a flag pole and flirt with charles the whole time ?

THE BETTER TWIN

exactly ! 😁

LILY MOMMY

AND SHE LOOKED DAMN HOT DOIN' IT TOO.

STUPID STINKY COPY & PASTE

i-

it's always 2 against 1 here.

LILY MOMMY

you'll get used to it hun 💋

THE BETTER TWIN

eewwww no being lovey dovey in the gc allowed.

brb guys, gonna go text my man's

STUPID STINKY COPY & PASTE

HE IS NOT UR-

oh forget it, ur hopeless.

FUTURE BF

hey y/n !

it's charles here, lily sent me ur number I hope that's cool with you ?

HIS FUTURE GF

hey charles !

yes ofc omg 😊

FUTURE BF

I think I grabbed ur golf set by accident haha 😅

HIS FUTURE GF

oh no problem !

you can give it back tonight at 8pm, at reagan's diner, and wearing ur finest suit because it is a 3 star restaurant.

FUTURE BF

I...

...uhm....

...huh ?

are u... asking me out ?

HIS FUTURE GF

did I stuttter, charles ?

no ?

so 8pm, sharp. those are my favourite golf clubs that i never use, so i'd like them back.

are we clear ?

FUTURE BF.

yes ma'am.

charles_leclerc & ynusername added to their story ! • 2hr

seen by pierregasly, alex_albon, and 1 224 353 others

alex_albon replied to charles_leclerc story !

WHAT

CHARLES

ARE. U. INSANE.

SHE'S CRAZY !?

but she's miiiinnnneeee 😁

maxverstappen1 replied to charles_leclerc story !

so, what did you do ? huh ?

because how does a total dope like urself, bag a 20 like yn ?

ahh, come on max :\

lilymhe replied to your story !

YAAASSSS QUUEEENNN

GET UR MANS

YOU KNOW IT 😝

user replied to your story !

my wife... had been stolen from me....

user replied to your story !

NO COME BACK TO ME YN 😭

charles_leclerc replied to your story !

how am I going to get people to believe that u wanted me first ?

u won't 🤭

yn_albon

liked by lilymhe, carlossainz55, and 1 332 454 others

yn_albon suck on ur zero points alexander.

View all comments

logansargeant OUCH.

▹ yn_albon not u logs u know i love ya !

[ liked by logansargeant ]

lilymhe as the girlfriend I shouldn't click a like on this post but...

▹ alex_albon but ? BUT !?

▹ yn_albon love ya too lils baby 🎀

maxverstappen1 the real mic drop is alex thinking that YN ALBON couldn't pull a kid like charles.

▹ charles_leclerc I want to take offense but I can't, because ur very much right.

▹ user HOL' ON- alex thought YN MOTHER ALBON couldn't pull any man of her choosing !? 😭

▹ yn_albon aw, thanks maxie !

alex_albon just say u all hate me and call it a day.

▹ yn_albon quit being dramatic lex and answer mum's ft before she beats ur ass with the wooden spoon again.

user so no one's gonna talk abt slide 3 ? NO ONE !? HELLO !? 😭

♡. ♡. ♡.

imnameimswrld OOHOOO BACK AGAIN ??? hiii lovelies, I hope you're all doing well ! college is trying so hard to kick my ass but i am hanging in there (just barely lol)... but I hope you enjoyed this one, I'm switching up the look of my stuff coz I hate the old look :)

#f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc ferrari #charles leclerc f1 #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #alex albon #scuderia ferrari #formula one social media au #social media #formula one smau #smau

[w0rmsmeatofme]

….. obsessed with your art so much😭

Thank you sm!!!! :DDDD

#thought this was about the Reagan art i reblogged for a sec #becus i saw you replied to that and i thought u mistook it for my art LOL #asks

[fluentmoviequoter]

Falling Slowly

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!rookie!reader

Summary: You are Tim's newest rookie, and his favorite. He treats you differently, able to see that your past affects you, and the little things build up until you can't deny your feelings.

Warnings: so much fluff, brief angst, domestic violence (Tim and reader respond to a call & allusions to past dv against reader), one scene is inspired by "The Switch" (1x4)

Word Count: 4.0k+ words

A/N: This doesn't really fit in any specific season, so I put characters in the roles I wanted them to have and just made up some names to fill in the gaps. Hopefully everything makes sense. Please let me know what you think!

Picture from Pinterest

“What are you doing here?” Angela asks, surprised to see Tim.

Furrowing his brows, Tim answers, “I’m here for the TO meeting.”

Angela tilts her head back and groans, passing Nyla a 10-dollar bill.

“She thought you’d give up your position for Metro,” Nyla explains.

“I’d like to, someday, but not today,” Tim replies.

“20 bucks this is his last one,” Angela says to Nyla. “He still has the open invite to Metro and his patience can’t take many more boots.”

Nyla reaches to shake Angela’s hand as Tim rolls his eyes and walks away.

“Let me see his rookie first, then we’ll talk,” Nyla decides. “I’ve got a feeling a lot is going to change around here.”

“Like what?” Angela asks. “Nyla! Like what?”

✯✯✯✯✯

Walking into the Mid-Wilshire station on your first day as a rookie is both nerve-wracking and exciting. You’ve heard stories about boots making it through the academy to fail once they reach this level, but you’re determined. When you were a kid, you were in bad situations more often than any child should be, but kind police officers changed your life, and you’d like to do the same.

Waving to one of your police academy friends, you sit in the bullpen, waiting impatiently to learn which officer behind you will be your training officer. Getting the perfect training officer is up to fate, based on what you’ve heard, and your TO can make or break your career.

“Good morning, boots! I am Watch Commander Wade Grey. You have made it through the police academy, but don’t expect a pat on the back, your work is just beginning. This is the time to prove yourself, to show your TO, me, and this city why you deserve to be a police officer.” He pauses, moving around the podium to add, “If you should be a police officer.”

As you listen intently, striving to remember every word Sergeant Grey says, two detectives stand at the back of the room and evaluate the rookies.

“He’s only got one shot,” Angela mutters.

“If he gets the pretty one in the front, I’m not taking the bet,” Nyla says.

Angela looks up a row, her brows raising when she sees you. “If he ends up with her, we’re starting a station-wide pool and getting rich,” she adds.

“Now, it’s time to be assigned to your judge, jury, and executioner,” Wade says with a smile. “Or, as we call them, TOs. Our former rookie turned TO, Nolan: you’ve got Edward Henderson.

 Officer Nolan nods at Henderson, and you remember his story: a late-life rookie who got a golden ticket. Part of you wants to work with him and learn why he decided on law enforcement, but you only nod at Henderson before turning back around.

“Lance Vincent, you are with our newest TO, Eliza Reagan.”

Wade says your name with a smile that seems a bit more genuine than before. “Officer Bradford, last but not least,” he says as he assigns you your new TO.

You look over your shoulder, a small smile on your face as he nods at you. He is undeniably attractive, and you hope it doesn’t cause any problems.

“Oh, he’s a goner,” Nyla whispers under her breath when you smile at Tim.

“Should we tell him?” Angela replies.

“I think we’ll have to.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Something about you bothers Tim. Not in the usual, grumpy-with-a-new-boot way, but he has a sense that you’re different. 

“Nice to meet you,” you say, walking to Tim at the back of the bullpen.

He stands, offering a calloused hand to shake.

“I’m not going to pretend this is going to be easy or fun,” he tells you. “Being a rookie is the hardest part of your career, but if you’re a good cop under the uniform, you’ll be fine.”

Nodding, you promise to do your best and express your willingness to learn everything you can from him.

“Good,” he says. “Meet me outside the war room. We’re not wasting any time, understood?”

“Yes, sir,” you answer.

Tim watches you walk away, and when you stop to let someone carrying a large box cross in front of you, Tim realizes that you’re hurting, or were hurting not long ago. The underlying need to help people is something he recognizes.

“She’s pretty,” Angela muses, walking to Tim’s side.

“Though you know that,” Nyla adds, smiling on his other side.

“She’s a boot. No different than the other rookies,” Tim argues, though his gaze is still on your back as you sign for your bags and weapons.

“Sure, she is. Why don’t you go put her through a Tim test?” Angela suggests.

Tim rolls his eyes as he leaves, wondering what hurt you bad enough to make you want to be a cop. He became a cop despite his hurt, but you’re young and bright – and too good for him – so there must be something in you that makes you worthy of this. More worthy (and more beautiful) than any rookie before you.

✯✯✯✯✯

Several officers wish you luck, with one or two warning you about so-called “Tim Tests” while you wait for Tim behind the shop.

“Don’t tell me you have a checklist,” Tim begins, drawing your attention away from the shop tires.

“No, sir,” you answer. “Just being vigilant, I suppose. I’d hate to start my first day with a flat tire.”

Tim nods, asking where the war bags are. You tell him how you checked the contents and loaded them into the trunk, and he appreciates your brief explanation.

“Good work. The easy part is over,” Tim says. He seems to weigh his options before deciding, “You drive. Show me what you’ve got.”

He follows you to the driver’s side door, opening it as he reminds you of standard shop procedures. As Tim closes the door, you wonder if he’s a gentleman or if he followed you because he doesn’t trust you to drive correctly. Either way, you know what you’re doing, and you won’t let the man in the passenger seat distract you… too much.

Driving toward Wilshire Boulevard for patrol, Tim looks out the window. 

“Blue Camaro has an expired plate,” you alert.

“Call it in.”

You do so, hitting the sirens as you engage the traffic stop. Tim raises a hand to stop you from getting out.

“Remember your training. Don’t let the situation get away from you.”

His words linger in your mind, and you complete the stop with no problem, issuing a ticket and returning to the shop.

“I’m driving,” Tim alerts you, spreading his hand across the small of your back as he directs you to the sidewalk.

“Did I do something wrong?” you ask when he starts the car.

“No,” he answers bluntly.

You lick your lips nervously, turning your attention to your surroundings. Suddenly, Tim pulls over and hits the brakes.

“I’ve been shot, boot. Where are we?” Tim demands.

Furrowing your brows in surprise at his actions, you answer, “Intersection of 12th and Meadowbrook, west of Redondo. There are several hospitals in a five-mile radius, but only one has a trauma center.”

Tim pulls out wordlessly, continuing his patrol route. Tim doesn't say much else throughout the few hours between his first test and lunch. He lets you point things out, answers your questions about the area and procedures, and glances at you out of the corner of his eye. When he pulls up to a small circle of food trucks where several police officers are waiting, he turns toward you.

“You’re doing well. I’m not neglecting to give you good feedback for any reason other than once you start riding alone, you won’t get it. My role here is to prepare you for your solo career, not hold your hand until you get there.”

“I understand, sir. Thank you for answering my questions,” you reply as you open the door.

Tim’s hand finds your upper back as he leads you to his favorite of the food trucks, a light touch that disappears nearly as quickly as it happened. You thank him quietly for the suggestion before sitting with your fellow rookies.

“Hi, Tim,” Angela says.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, his annoyance breaking through his growing fondness for you.

“Just came to get some food. Your boot seems to be in a good mood.”

“Strange, I thought Tim’s thing was ‘break their spirits in the first hour,’” Nyla adds as she joins Angela.

“You two not have work to do or something?” Tim inquires.

“Something like that. How’s she doing?” Angela tips her chin toward you as she asks.

“She’s got good instincts, knows protocols.”

“But?”

Tim shrugs, turning away before Angela can dig deeper.

“I give it a week,” Nyla announces.

“Before what?”

“He can’t take it anymore.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Domestic disturbance in your area,” dispatch alerts.

Tim grabs the radio, accepting the call as he hits the sirens and turns into a residential area. You chew the inside of your bottom lip; domestic calls are your least favorite, especially when kids are involved. Unwilling to show discomfort, you put on your best brave cop face and follow Tim to the door.

A young girl with a bloody nose and teary eyes opens it, and you glance at Tim before kneeling and asking her to come outside. She listens without question, her lower lip wobbling as you smile.

“He’s hurting my mom,” she whimpers.

Tim nods at you before tilting his head toward the shop. You direct the girl to stand at the edge of the porch and wait for you as you follow Tim inside.

“LAPD, put your hands up!” Tim yells as he steps into a bedroom.

Your eyes widen when you see the large man towering over the girl’s mother. He smiles as he reaches for something.

“Don’t move unless you want to give me a reason,” Tim says lowly. “Step away.”

The man looks toward the nightstand before taking a deep breath and giving up. 

“I got it,” Tim tells you before radioing a code 4.

You wait until Tim has the handcuffs secured to walk outside. The girl runs into your arms, and you pop the shop's trunk, setting her down as you retrieve a small first aid kit. She lets you clean her bloody nose, gripping your wrist when it stings.

“Where’s my mom?” she asks.

“She’s talking to my partner right now, she’ll be out in a few minutes,” you explain.

“Is he nice?”

“The nicest,” you answer.

“Mom!” she yells, letting you set her on the ground before she runs to her mom’s side.

“Get in the shop,” Tim commands as he walks past, his hand brushing your arm as he closes the trunk.

You obey, climbing into the passenger seat and waiting as he talks to the EMTs. When he joins you, he drives to a quiet, empty street before switching off his body cam and gesturing for you to do the same.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice softer than you’ve heard.

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t say what I want to hear. Domestic calls are tough but that wasn’t your first one, was it?”

You shake your head, looking out the windshield instead of at Tim.

“We all have reasons for becoming a cop, and some calls are harder than others. As long as your past doesn’t get in the way and put you in danger, it’s okay to be human,” he continues. “TOs are notoriously hard on you, but we’re also here for you.”

“Thank you,” you whisper.

Tim shrugs, one corner of his lips upturned. “No more sappy stuff, we have work to do.”

“Oh, if you think that was sappy, I’ve got a lot to show you before I graduate to short sleeves.”

The comment catches Tim off guard and makes him feel something he didn’t expect.

✯✯✯✯✯

By the end of the first week, you feel like you know Tim well. His hand spread across your back or shoulder when you’re in front of him, his little reminders that you’re not alone, that you can show emotion when the time allows, and every other little thing he does makes you wonder why there are so many horror stories around his teaching style.

Likewise, Tim thinks he has you down. You ask him questions, ask for his opinions, listen and apply what he says, and send him small smiles when he compliments your work.

But, it only takes a shift to realize that people are multi-faceted, and cops and rookies are no different.

“Good morning,” you greet, passing Tim a small box.

“What is this? A bribe?” he asks.

You smile as you reply, “Nope. Just something I found, and I thought you’d like.”

Tim opens the box, his eyes widening at the 2000 Super Bowl tickets, the Rams’ first win. “I can’t accept these.”

“They were under a bookshelf in my apartment, it’s not like I spent a million dollars on them, Officer Bradford.”

Tucking them into his pocket, Tim opens your door. “Thank you.”

You smile, and Tim thinks your joy is the better gift.

✯✯✯✯✯

During your first call of that day, you show Tim that you don’t just value his opinions.

“Shots fired!” you radio as you duck behind the car.

“Are you hit?” Tim asks.

Shaking your head, you move closer, trusting him to direct you and keep you safe. The men in the house you were called to have automatic weapons, and though you’re a good shot, you’re not a match for their guns alone.

“Backup is on the way, but I need you to do something for me. You trust me?” Tim adds.

“I do.”

“Reach around the back and open the trunk; just far enough to reach the latch. I’ll cover you.”

He stands above you, firing into the shattered window of the house as you slip your arm and back around the end of the shop and open the trunk.

“Good, perfect,” Tim praises as he ducks beside you. His knuckles graze yours as he leans past you. “Can you reach the shotguns?”

Glancing in the window above you, you locate them quickly. “I can.”

“Do it. I got you.”

Once the shotguns are in your hands, you pass one to Tim as you ready your own. Timing your shots, you take out two shooters just as your backup arrives.

“You’re bleeding,” Tim says, his adrenaline dropping as a tactical team takes over.

You look at your arm, just noticing your ripped sleeve and bloody skin. Tim lays his hands on your arm as he turns it toward him.

“I think it was just glass from the windshield,” you say quietly, pointing to the car behind you, riddled with bullet holes and broken glass.

“Either way, we need to get it checked out.”

“Officer Bradford?” you interject. “Thank you. For making sure I trust you.”

“Thanks for trusting me,” he mutters, so soft you can barely hear it.

He taps the Super Bowl tickets in his pocket as he rises to get a paramedic to check on you, and you smile, wondering how bad it would be if you fell in love with your TO.

✯✯✯✯✯

“You’re quieter than usual,” Tim points out. “I need to know that whatever is bothering you won’t impair your ability to work with me.”

“It won’t,” you promise. “Sorry.”

Tim considers pressing, but he trusts you. “I’m here. If you decide you want to talk about it.”

He exits the shop and opens your door before you can reach for the handle.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Did you see that?” Nyla gushes, elbowing Angela.

“Ow. See what?”

Nyla points to Tim, closing your door and laying a hand on your shoulder as he ducks his head to talk to you.

“That’s not a reprimand,” Angela deduces.

When you smile, a tiny upturning of your lips, Nyla laughs.

“Oh, that boy… The door, the touches, listening to her? He’s gone.”

“Not just him,” Angela adds. “She asks him questions, smiles at him, trusts him more than anyone… and the Super Bowl tickets? They’re adorable.”

“Should we do something?”

“Not yet. I think they’re close to realizing.”

✯✯✯✯✯

After your longest, and worst, day yet, you find yourself in a hospital waiting room beside Tim. He hasn't said anything since a speeding driver ran into your side of the shop, though you've apologized countless times (even though there's nothing you could have done).

Tim’s jaw is clenched so tight you’re worried it will snap. You’re sitting close to him, a bandage around your wrist and an ice pack pressed to your cheek.

“Sorry,” you whisper.

“Stop- stop apologizing, it’s not your fault,” Tim sighs.

His arm is on the armrest between you, and you move your hand toward his. When he doesn’t back away, you turn your arm to allow your knuckles to brush against his.

“It’s not your fault,” you tell him kindly. “He ran a red light.”

“And you could’ve been killed,” Tim replies, standing abruptly and walking away.

You slump in your seat, dejected and curious about what you could say to make him stop blaming himself for someone running into you.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Tim and his rookie sitting in a tree,” Nyla sings under her breath.

“I don’t have time for this right now,” Tim replies.

“Right, because you’re too busy being mad that she got hurt. Cops get hurt Tim,” Angela reminds him.

“Not with me,” he begins, pausing to take a deep breath. “Despite what you think, I’m upset that she got hurt, not because I’m in love with her.”

“Whatever you got to hear, buddy,” Nyla replies. “But tell me this. If it was Nolan when he was a boot, would you have felt this bad? Even if I believed you didn’t have feelings for her, which I don’t, you’re different with her and you know it.”

Tim sighs, looking out the door at you. He knows it’s true; despite his constant denial, he does treat you differently because you are different, and you’re like a magnet, incapable of being ignored or forgotten. Finally confessing it to himself, Tim knows that his feelings for you will get one or both of you in trouble unless something changes.

✯✯✯✯✯

“It is time for The Switch,” Wade says as he walks into the bullpen. “The day you ride with a new TO.”

You glance at Tim, who gives you an encouraging nod. He tells you that you’re a great rookie, but he also tells you that you’re pretty sometimes, which doesn’t seem pertinent (or always true, in your eyes). Wade says your name, and you look up.

“You’re with Nolan,” he tells you.

Smiling at Nolan, you cross your fingers under the desk that it’s a good day. 

“Henderson,” you call as he stands up, “what’s Nolan like?”

“He’s great. Really understanding and knowledgeable. A little talkative, but fairly easy going. Just stick to protocol and listen to his directions; you’ll be fine.”

“What about Bradford?” Vincent asks you. “Everyone says he’s the toughest. Anything I should be aware of?”

“I don’t think so. He’s quiet sometimes, but he’s great.”

You collect your war bag with the expectation of a good day. You will miss Tim, but learning how another TO teaches and his views can be invaluable. As you slide into the driver’s seat beside Nolan, you realize something: you like Tim as more than your TO. He means more to you than just being your teacher, your mentor, and a trustworthy officer. The thought hits you so suddenly you're not sure where it came from.

With each passing moment, you find yourself remembering something Tim said or wanting to tell him something, but he isn’t there. Nolan is kind and laughs at your muttered comments, but it is nothing like riding with Tim. As you think about all the little things Tim does, everything begins to make sense.

Someone yells your name when you step out of the shop to get lunch. Turning, you’re surprised to see Vincent storming up to you.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he demands.

“Tell you what?”

“That Bradford has ‘Tim Tests’ and nothing pleases him!”

You glance over his shoulder, finding Tim and Nolan talking. Tim glances over at you, and the tension in his shoulders seems to ease until Nolan says something else.

“His Tim Tests aren’t that bad; he’s just teaching you awareness and safety.”

“He wants to end my career,” Vincent exclaims before muttering something about you not understanding as he walks away.

✯✯✯✯✯

“How’s Vincent doing?” Nolan asks.

“That kid has no situational awareness,” Tim answers. “I stopped at a street sign, and he couldn’t figure out where we were.”

“He’s probably scared of you,” Nyla interjects. “And, no, Bradford, I don’t have anywhere else to be.”

“My rookie can tell me where I am, no matter what,” Tim adds.

“Your rookie is very good, I’ll give you that,” Nolan replies. “But Vincent has potential. Besides, your boot has people problems.”

Tim glances over at you, locking eyes with you while Vincent talks to you dramatically.

“So do I, but I’m still a good cop.”

Nyla watches as both you and Tim sigh before abandoning the conversations you’re in. She shakes her head, calculating her winnings if the betting pool goes her way.

✯✯✯✯✯

Walking out of the locker room at the end of the day, you’re surprised to be called into Sergeant Grey’s office. You sit across from him, fiddling with the hem of your shirt to spend your nervous energy.

“You are being assigned to a new TO. Officer Bradford has decided to hand you off to someone better equipped to teach you,” Grey informs. “But you’re not in trouble.”

You still your hands in your lap. “Okay. Effective when?”

“Monday morning. So, rest up.”

As you stand, Grey says your name, smiling as he repeats, “You’re not in trouble. This was Bradford’s decision, nothing to do with you. Well, nothing to do with you as a rookie.”

You purse your lips at his phrasing, and he chuckles before sending you out. Walking through the parking lot, you see Tim’s truck is still there and decide to ask him what happened. Standing by the tailgate, you chew your bottom lip as you wait, nervous that you did something, though Wade assured you differently.

Tim walks up unnoticed, saying your name to get your attention.

“What did I do wrong?” you ask, jumping straight to your questions. “I can fix it; there has to be a way to fix it.”

“You didn’t do anything,” Tim promises. “I just can’t be your TO anymore.”

“Why not?”

Tim shifts his backpack on his shoulder. “It’s not appropriate.”

Your heart drops. Tim knows you have feelings for him, and it makes him uncomfortable; that’s the only explanation. Nodding slowly, you accept your fate.

“And I can’t do this,” Tim adds.

His hands slide onto your jaw, his palms against your cheeks as his fingers settle behind your ears, pulling you into a quick kiss. You only begin to respond when he pulls back.

“You’re the best boot I’ve ever had,” he whispers, brushing his thumbs over the apples of your cheeks.

“I’m not your boot anymore,” you remind him.

“That’s your fault. Those little gifts, and soft smiles, and how well you listen… You make it impossible not to fall for you.”

You laugh, leaning against his hands as you reply, “You do too. How do you think I felt when you called me pretty or touched my back? Then you kept comforting me and inviting me to talk. It was too easy.”

“Go to dinner with me?” he asks.

You nod, smiling against his hands before he moves to touch your back again, opening the passenger door as he helps you in. Tim slips his hand into yours, kissing your knuckles as he keeps you close.

✯✯✯✯✯

When the rest of the rookies leave the station, noticing that your car is still there, they ask each other if anyone has seen you.

“Bradford’s truck is gone,” Nyla notices as she walks out.

“Looks like we won,” Angela cheers.

“Where’s Bradford?” Vincent asks.

“On a date,” Nyla answers. “With his former boot.”

The rookies’ jaws drop, wondering how you managed to pull Mid-Wilshire’s resident grump.

“Don’t expect the same to happen to you,” Angela says as she passes the rookies. “We all worked for this one.”

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford #the rookie #requests #fem!reader

[jungle-angel]

Two Birds In A Nest (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: You and Bob are just beginning to build your lives in Montana and hope that your family will grow with it

Warnings: Talks about starting a family, wanting a family, smut etc.

Your moans were tied together with Bob's even as you felt him gutter into you, an explosion of warmth blooming between your legs as your heavy breathing began to even out with each other's. You reached up, placing a hot hand against Bob's chest, feeling his fast heartbeat beneath your palm.

"Oh baby," he sighed happily, nuzzling your cheeks and your jaw. "My sweet (y/n), I can't get enough of you."

You giggled a little as you felt his baby smooth skin against yours, the both of you still sensitive to each other's kissing and caressing. Bob helped you up from your bed and into the bathroom, running a hot bath for the both of you to get you cleaned up. God it was heaven being in your brand new bathroom and not having to worry about who would be up at some ungodly hour of the morning to hog the shower. The steam carried with it the smell of Bob's Irish Spring body wash that he used on the both of you, gently washing every part of you that he could touch. Back into your shared bedroom you both went, crawling under the warm covers as the blizzard outside began to rage. Your house however, was so cozy and warm, the dogs sleeping soundly in their crates while the cats had taken to the laundry room in the finished basement.

You and Bob lay facing each other, chest to chest, tits pressing against each other and still warm from the bath. He looked like a dream with his soft cheeks, his limpid blue eyes that reminded you of the forget-me-nots that popped in your garden every spring. The lazy but loving smile on his face was almost the same as his dad's, the spitting image in all those family photos of Bob as a baby being held by Joe, his father.

Yet there was something that stirred and ached in your chest. You couldn't put your finger on what it was or why it was there, but it was.

"What's wrong sweetheart?" Bob asked, seeing the worrisome look playing with your face.

"Do you ever feel like something's missing?" you asked in reply.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know," you answered a little sadly. "I just.....I pass by one of the empty rooms and all I can see in there is you standing over a crib.....a little baby in your arms.....maybe you're sitting in the rocker singing and rocking him or her to sleep."

Bob could feel his eyes burning and a few loose tears beginning to form. Growing up the youngest in a big family, he spent endless days playing with all his nieces and nephews, sometimes watching them while his brothers and sisters either didn't have the time to do so or had to go on a SEAL team mission like his oldest sister, Reagan's husband. Picking them up from school, playing with them and taking care of them had made him feel as though there had been a hole somewhere that he could just hardly fill. Ever since the two of you had gotten married, he wanted so badly to have just that....a family of your own and a house that truly felt like home.

"Oh baby," he cooed, kissing your cheeks. "It'll happen, don't you worry."

You had hoped so. God you had hoped so. It was all you could think about, even when you were at the school trying to teach your fifth graders about ancient India and having to fill one side of the chalkboard with a drawing from The Ramayana. Now that you and Bob could finally have the time to try, you were excited, happy, nervous and scared all at once.

"Do you....do you wanna try?" you asked him a little meekly.

You felt him roll his body on top of yours, the heat intensifying a little bit from the heavy duvet you only used in the winter. "Hell yes," Bob murmured, his lips gently grazing against yours.

You felt him kiss you gently, just as he had done earlier that night, the wetness beginning to build again between your legs as his red hot, throbbing cock slipped inside you with ease. You sighed and moaned happily as his hips thrust gently in and out of you, slowly drawing your orgasm out of you. It was almost like the blizzard outside, dizzying and a wild flurry of moans, groaning and skin slapping against skin before everything calmed down and you and Bob were resting skin-to-skin against each other.

"You think this one will take?" you asked sleepily.

"I've got a feeling," Bob yawned.

Sure enough it did. After almost a week of you waking up sick, you and Bob were over the moon to find that it had taken, the tears filling his eyes when he hears the baby's heartbeat for the first time, more so when you learn that it's a little boy, your tiny little August Robert Floyd, who becomes the biggest blessing your family has ever received.

#top gun maverick #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #dagger squad

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A2 part 23

Synopsis: It’s been over a year since we were brought under Alastor’s watchful eye. We’ve unlocked our Demonic powers, discovered our own talents, and began building the Safe Haven with Charlie and co. Alastor seems increasingly interested in the power we hold as one and intends to use it properly.

Previous part

Part 23: new discoveries

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alastor wasn't having it.

Once Spring came and sprung everything in motion for the haven, I had been increasingly busy. Spencer, our resident reporter, had been pasting articles all over Hell about life inside the Hazbin Haven. They came swarming in once the surface was warm enough.

Arleen was making all kinds of new changes to the street layout and buildings. Everyone was needed to build the new homes and businesses. We were gradually becoming more self sufficient as Demons with different backgrounds and employment came through.

It was becoming a concern to the Slight Human residents that there were too many Demons and not enough Humans - well adult Humans. So I was charged with finally spreading the word about our haven. I took Spencer with me to divide and conquer some of the towns. Alastor tried to reassure me that Blackwater wouldn't make a move on our haven just yet.

Speaking of which, he still very much wasn't having it with me. I was so involved with Spencer, Vivian and the children, stopping fights, and Reagan that I failed to notice Alastor's growing impatience. I still slept in his bed with him but that was generally about it. I was exhausted by the end of the day that sleep was the only thing on my mind.

It didn't help that his shadow was being very touchy with me as of late. I felt the ghost's hand wrap lightly around mine, feeling like a small gust of wind. It also repeatedly tried to get my attention by flying around the walls until I looked at it. It would mimic Alastor's moves and bow low when I finally did acknowledge it. I could feel a laugh from Alcine, my shadow. If I was busy, she was eager to take the shadow's attention off me and onto her.

Or Alastor dispersed his rogue shadow with a thud of his cane. He wasn't exactly the most patient person. So he made sure to find a way to secure a chunk of time to spend with me.

"I'm afraid we have business to attend to, dear Charlie," he said, placing a hand on my shoulder and pulling me back against him. "I will be sure to send her your way when we are done." Then whisked us both out of sight.

"What business?" I asked when we solidified in the living room. He moved like a snake, quickly wrapping an arm around my waist and putting a hand behind my head to press a firm kiss into my lips. The movement caught me off guard but sent a bolt of something into my stomach.

"Our business," he replied when he finally broke the kiss. "You have been far too busy for my liking."

A smile pulled at my lips. "I didn't mean to make you feel lonely." I leaned into him and wrapped my arms around his back. His eyebrows perked up with surprise but he recovered and melted his mind with mine, clouding my thoughts with his excitement.

The radio turned on to a lively tune. He put an arm behind my back while the other took my hand. He moved smoothly and quickly, leaving me to catch up and try to step in time. I preferred the slower ones since I very obviously didn't have a talent for the upbeat songs. I kept stepping on his feet or not moving in the right direction. I felt like I was being dragged rather than dancing.

He wasn't bothered in the slightest, chuckling at my panic and struggle, but I was embarrassed. My face was red as I tried to follow his lead. Eventually, though, I pushed away and tried to make myself smaller.

"Looks like I need practice." I tried to laugh it off.

It took him one step to close the distance with his long legs. He touched my mind again, searching for my feelings, as he placed a gentle hand on my cheek. "Then practice we will."

After that, I was quick to ask Charlie to borrow her phone. I looked up dancing but there were so many different ones and so many that didn't match the feel of the dance he had attempted with me.

So, begrudgingly, I asked Husker if he could help. It somehow managed to get back to Charlie who cut out a section of our busy schedule for her, Vaggie, Husker, and Angel to teach me how to dance.

Husker was the only partner I was comfortable with, so the others gave pointers or recorded us so I could watch it over. I felt more at ease with Husker who didn't really react much if I stepped wrong or on his paws.

After a few days, I finally figured out the rhythm. Dancing, as I discovered, didn't have any set rules or anything. It was just a flow of mostly sporadic movements. Husker lead most of the time but if I wanted to do a move, a slight change in the way I raised my hand or moved my foot gave him the indication. I learned to recognize the same in him.

My practices somehow managed to get back to Alastor (probably from Niffty who meant no harm by it). He wanted to react immediately, pulling me away from anyone's eyes to demand an answer. But he waited. He stood just inside the front door as I walked in from a long day. I immediately knew there was something up with him.

"What?" I asked, looking him up and down as the door closed behind me.

"How was your day, my dear?" he greeted, ignoring my prompt.

"What is it, Alastor?"

He loved hearing his own name fall from my lips.

His smile stretched just a hair before he took my hand and pulled me into the living room to stand in front of the fire. "Have you been dancing with someone else, my dear?"

My ears stood straight up. "I've been...practicing with Husker. How did you know?"

He let out a short laugh. "My darling, I know everything that happens in my estate, and everything that pertains to you." He gently ran the back of his claws along my cheek, my skin soft against his leathery one. "So tell me, why have you sought him out?"

"I was..." I gently removed his hand from my face and wrapped my claws around it instead. "I wanted to know how to dance. So I could do it better with you."

"My dear," he lifted both my hands over his shoulders so he could lock his own behind my back, "I appreciate the thought and effort, but please, something like this I would prefer to be the one to teach you. You shouldn't feel afraid to learn from me."

"I'm sorry." I tried to take my hands away but he caught my elbows, pushing them back up to their position around his neck.

"Thank you darling. So please, allow me to show you." He turned the radio to something that was in the middle of lively and slow. My nerves returned as it now felt like a test. I hadn't danced to this kind of music, yet, and he knew that.

This dancing had a lot of turns in it. His hands and eyes were glued to mine the whole time. His upper buddy was very still compared to the quick, small movements of his feet. I tried to follow along and keep my eyes trained on him in an effort to show I could do it.

Halfway through the song, I fell into the rhythm. His smile grew and he tried to change the direction a few times to see if I could keep up. The challenge was invigorating and I found myself actually enjoying the dance. My smile matched his.

Another song followed. This time he added a twirl here and there, our hands reconnecting perfectly like magnets. I started to feel the way I did when I was in nature: like I belonged.

The song ended on a high note. Our hands were outstretched to the side and our chests heaved from the exercise. I felt sweaty but happy. My heart swelled when I touched his mind and felt the same feeling. Every time I touched his mind he would wrap his entirely around me. It wasn't invasive like it once was, but rather a comforting hug.

"You need only follow me, my dear," he said, breaking the silence. I chuckled and slid my hands out of his. He immediately connected his palms with my waist to hold me in place, drawing me closer to him again. My hands came up to rest on his chest and fiddle with the folds of his jacket.

"I suppose I shouldn't have doubted you." I stared at his red jacket a moment longer before finally inclining my head back to meet his eyes.

"You can still redeem yourself."

I made a look of confusion. "I already said I was sorry."

"Simply not enough," he shook his head, "I require more than that."

"What are you looking for?" I looked up at him through my eyelashes, raising a single eyebrow as he had done to me so many times.

"Perhaps a kiss would suffice?" The soft, genuine tone surprised me. He didn't sound like Alastor the Radio Demon. He sounded like Alastor.

My sarcastic remark fell silent, not daring to ruin the sweet moment he had created, and went up on my toes to meet him for a kiss. One hand came up behind my back to thread his claws in my hair and press my head further into the kiss.

The sensation sent another new feeling through my body. My back arched forward as he leaned further, my body curving perfrctly against his as if it were a puzzle piece. He tilted his head ever so slightly but it was perfect for deepening the kiss. My fingers curled his coat into fists.

Then I felt his tongue touch my lip. It shocked me and my gasp gave him the perfect opportunity to slip it past my lips. My eyes squeezed shut as my stomach flipped inside out. His sharp teeth moved against mine as his tongue ran over my own. He moved quick, like he always did, and left me helpless to his advance. My chest burned and I didn't dare pull away.

But he did. A small string of saliva fell between us as he pulled away just enough to look at my eyes. He grabbed one of my wrists, gently squeezing it to tell me to let go, and pulled it up to his shoulders. I got the message and locked my hands behind his neck, bringing us even closer.

He was eager to slid his tongue in again. I let him and moved my own in circles with his. His lips weren't still, either, as he deepened and shallowed the kiss every few seconds. One claw remained firmly in my hair just below my horns while the other splayed across my back.

I let out another gasp when a tooth nicked my tongue. He grew more aggressive, even going as far as to try to bite me again to taste my blood. I turned my head away and pushed his chin high up to stop him.

"That hurts," I said, swallowing the coppery taste. He straightened up and loosened his arms, letting out a heavy sigh that I mimicked.

"My apologies, dear. You are...irresistible." One of his hands moved from my shoulder down to my black claws. He lifted my hand and placed a gentle kiss on the back, a huge contrast to his actions only moments before.

I suddenly broke into a yawn, tears collecting on the edges of my eyes. He let out a soft chuckle as he snuffed the fire and quietly lead me upstairs. I changed in my room before walking over to his. He was already in bed but wearing a short sleeve this time.

My eyes instantly found the part where his black skin blended into his normal colored skin. There were little bright scars along the black skin and it barely reached up to his elbows like mine did.

I moved swiftly to the other side of the bed and climbed in. His eyes never left me, one arm holding up the covers to help and the other arm slightly beneath the pillow as an invitation.

I nervously moved closer and allowed him to engulf me with the warm blankets. His arm wrapped around my back and pulled me up against his chest. My one arm reached over his side as my head rested on his other one partly beneath the pillow. A mix of smoke and sweat filled my nose.

"So beautiful," he whispered, placing a soft kiss on my forehead. My cheeks warmed and his mind touched mine, somehow wrapping himself even more so around me. Yet I still never felt like I had enough of him.

I pressed my face into his chest and took a deep breath. I could smell the cedar, now, and the combination of all the different scents were registering in my mind as him.

I moved my arm to scratch my leg but froze. His body went very stiff as a response, mind unwrapping from me but still enough to read my feelings. I brought my hand back to feel for the texture that made me confused.

It was fur.

"Is that..." I shifted away so I could look him in the eyes, but he wasn't looking, eyes averted to the pillow and smile strained. His ears were pinned back, too. "Is that a tail?"

He let out a short, annoyed sigh. "Yes."

"Since when did you have a tail?" My claws gently moved with the direction of the fur, making sure to be light and gentle since he was very obviously uncomfortable.

"Since I was born." His eyes darted once to me, then again when he noticed my new stare. It turned into a smile when I saw him watching. "What is it?"

"Can...can I touch your ears?" I asked slowly, afraid that he might yell or pull away. He didn't, though. He gave a mumbled 'yes' and slowly brought his ears back up to stand straight.

I moved my hand from his tail to his face, letting the back of my claws gently run along his back. His one arm was still across my shoulders and he used it to pull me closer so I couldn't look up to see his face, but I could.

His ear twitched when my fingers finally found it. I kept my touch light as I ran them up the back and twisted the hair between my fingers. He was purposely trying to make it hard for me to reach but our connection told me he wasn't hating it. After the nervous wreck he's put me through, he deserved a little himself.

I was tired but an idea popped in my head.

I brought my hand back down and shifted away, earning a confused look from him. I propped myself up on an elbow to get a better look at his red eyes. My closest arm laid across his shoulders as my tail wrapped around his ankle.

"Are...do you...what else are you hiding from me?" My tail moved to his feet that were apparently deer clove feet.

"A deer is unthreatening." He tried to sit up but I laid my weight on his side so he couldn't. His eyebrows perked up, claws finding my shoulder and nervousness wounding its way into his head.

"But why not tell me?" I reached up to touch his ears, catching his eyes closing as my claws moved through just his hair. A lot of little secrets were revealing themselves.

For a while he didn't answer. I gently massaged the edges of his one ear, then moved down to the base where he let out a huge sigh. I moved my hand away from his ears and pressed down on the area around his antlers, earning yet another sigh. It was nice to see him like this, quiet and unthreatening.

The urge overtook me before I could stop, threading my fingers in his hair and moving it to the side to plant a kiss on his forehead. His eyes snapped open to look at me, fluttering shut again when I moved to the other ear.

My elbow was getting tired from holding myself up. I told him to move his arm from under me, feeling a strange twist in my stomach as he silently obeyed, and laid down. He rested his cheek on my stomach, wrapped a lanky arm around my waist, and moved his leg under one of mine. The tip of my tail gently wrapped around his newly discovered one that twitched from the contact.

My claws began to massage both ears now, occasionally running them through his hair or around his antlers. This was very much new and not worthy of any complaints.

We fell asleep like that, waking up in the late morning with legs tangled and hands clasped firmly together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note:

Enjoy my little devils

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@wendigonamecaller @saccharine-nectarine @thesimpybitch

#demi demon #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel #soulmate au #soulmates #reqs open #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin husk #charlie morningstar

[cartermagazine]

Today In History

Shirley Chisholm, the first African American woman elected to Congress representing Bedford-Stuyvesant 12th district, and the first African American woman to seek the nomination for president of the United States, was born in Brooklyn, NY, on this date November 30, 1924.

She graduated from Brooklyn Girls’ High in 1942 and from Brooklyn College cum laude in 1946, where she won prizes on the debate team. Although professors encouraged her to consider a political career, she replied that she faced a “double handicap” as both Black and female.

Her motto and title of her autobiography—Unbought and Unbossed—illustrates her outspoken advocacy for women and minorities during her seven terms in the U.S. House of Representatives.

Discrimination followed Chisholm’s quest for the 1972 Democratic Party presidential nomination. She was blocked from participating in televised primary debates, and after taking legal action, was permitted to make just one speech. Still, students, women, and minorities followed the “Chisholm Trail.” She entered 12 primaries and garnered 152 of the delegates’ votes (10% of the total)—despite an under-financed campaign and contentiousness from the predominantly male Congressional Black Caucus.

Of her legacy, Chisholm said, “I want to be remembered as a woman … who dared to be a catalyst of change.”

“Make you co-op-erate with the rhythm, that is what I give em, Reagan is the Pres but I voted for Shirley Chisholm.” - Biz Markie

CARTER™️ Magazine

#carter magazine #historyandhiphop365 #wherehistoryandhiphopmeet #carter #history #cartermagazine #today in history #staywoke #blackhistory #blackhistorymonth #shirley chisholm

[serialunaliver]

if you dont mind i would love to see the reagan child nutrition graphs, and the thing about ketchup

I actually have a post on this!

And the ketchup thing...

...its really something. Here is an article from the actual time it was occurring

"Ketchup in combination with other things was classified as a vegetable." What other things?" he was asked. "French fries or hamburgers," he replied.