Alright, My Account Where I Write All My Little Whatever's @baby-greatness Is Like.... Gone To The World?

Johnny "Soap" Mactavish is the kind of dad who throws your kids around for fun, tossing them into the air and catching them just to hear their infectious laughter, ignoring the worrisome protests that you call out from the kitchen when they get a little too high.

Captain John Price is the kind of dad who convinces your children to ask you for pizza for dinner, acting all surprised when you tell him to call the local pizza place, eyebrows rising with "What's the occasion?" despite the obvious grin that his plan worked. You aren't fooled.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick is the kind of dad who chases your kids around with a nerf gun, relentlessly pelting them with styrofoam bullets and ganging up on your oldest son with your youngest daughter. Waits behind the front door for your son to get home from school and immediately fires on him.

Simon "Ghost" Riley is the kind of dad who holds your toddlers like footballs, your daughter tucked sideways under his arm and dangling your son by his ankle. "Found these mice sniffin' 'round the cookie tin." He says with a deadpan expression, but you don't miss the way his mouth twitches when they giggle and shriek.

Everyone wanted to be thicc but nobody wanted to be fat. Everyone wanted the dad bod but nobody wanted to be fat. Everyone wants fat mommy milkers but nobody wants mommy to be fat. Everyone wants to be a bear but not like, an actual fat bear. You get what i’m saying

I just love him ur honor

Literal definition of spyware:

Also From Microsoft’s own FAQ: "Note that Recall does not perform content moderation. It will not hide information such as passwords or financial account numbers. 🤡

>:)

Stylized Viktor Proportions

Did a simple guide of Viktor's body proportions (in a very stylized version) for myself. Figured I'd share here.

Hey. Your brain needs to de-frag. Literally it needs you to sit there and space out.

If you want your memory or executive function to improve, stare out a window at the skyline or sidewalk or trees or birds on the electrical wires for like 20+ minutes per day. (With no other stimulation like a podcast or TV if you can manage but hey baby steps innit). If you're fortunate enough to have safe outside with any bits of nature, go stare closely at a 1 meter square of grass and trip out on the bugs and shapes of grasses and stuff.

Literally this will make you smarter. Our brains HAVE TO HAVE this zone out time to do important stuff behind the scenes. This does not happen during sleep, it's something else.

That weird pressurized feeling you get sometimes might be your brain on no defrag.

Give your brain a Daily Dose Of De-Frag.

THIS.

Me: Yeah Jayvik is a cute ship in fanon, but I don't think there's any sign of it becoming canon to any degree sadly :/

Canon:

When Jayce and Viktor meet Mel, the camera focusses on Jayce watching her leave with a fawning expression, meanwhile Viktor watches Jayce with a twinge of sadness.

The way Jayce puts him arm around Viktor and says "You should come up with me, we're partners" and Viktor begins to refuse, but he hesitates slightly after looks into Jayce's eyes like this

The way Jayce and Mel's sex scene was intercut with not just Viktor dying, but Viktor rejecting affection from a woman who clearly had interest in him. Both because his project had taken over his life, but also perhaps a sign that his romantic interests lay elsewhere. He could have what Jayce has (romantic/sexual intimacy with a woman) but he doesn't want it.

How in that very same scene as Jayce and Mel climaxed, Viktor collapsed as though wounded or hurt by their act, betrayed even. The way the camera cuts from the scenes of intimacy, to Viktor's eyes made me question whether Viktor was witnessing Jayce and Mel. It was a scene that felt like betrayal despite both events being completely unconnected.

The way we cut from Mel lying alone in her bed after Jayce left abruptly, to the perfect parallel of Viktor in his hospital bed with Jayce waiting by his side.

That it is constantly shown as a choice for Jayce. To choose between Mel or Viktor, but he can't have both. That the two are seen as equally as important to him and it is an intense struggle for him to make that choice.

When Viktor looks at Jayce like this.

When Jayce confronts Ambessa, and is forced to watch her be intimate with her boytoy that bears a resemblance to Viktor (especially with the exact same placement of a mole), and Jayce becomes agitated quickly.

The betrayed/affronted expression Viktor gives when Mel suggests military action in Zaun, and Mel outright ignores his protest and tries to convince Jayce, to which Jayce stands to speak with Mel, effectively cutting Viktor (who is sat down) out of the exchange. The sense of rivalry between Mel and Viktor, as though competing for the same man.

"There is Always a choice" Viktor says, after Mel leaves. Indirectly asking Jayce to choose his way forward, and by extension, to choose him rather than Mel.

They are each other's saviours.

Me: Oh.

being prices assistant n bein a clumsy bitch you spill coffee ALL over his jeans or sumn. n youre so nervous youll lose your job you frantically grab tissues n wipe over the stains not realising youre rubbing over his bulge until hes letting out lil grunts yk? 📏📏

please this has bimbo assistant written all over it

spewing apologies as you try your best to dry the stain, looking up at him with tears brimming your eyes “i’m so sorry sir! i didn’t mean to! please don’t be mad Captain Price!”

and his eyes are just about rolling to the back of his head at the feel of your hand rubbing directly over his cock, grinding his teeth together as he thrusts against your touch

“Ah, don’t worry about it pretty just- fuck- just keep doin that yeah? fuck yeah”

I'm going to cry

Natural - MDNI

pairing: simon riley x black!reader summary: simon wants to see your natural hair more often. cw: 2.2k+ words, fluff, sex mention, hair length & color is not mentioned

“can’t believe women use all this crap. what is this shit anyway?”

“it’s grease. don’t be a hater simon,” you tell your husband, while trying to hide your smile when he mutters something under his breath.

simon passes the jar to you, before turning his gaze back to the row of color bottles and jars on the shelf. he may not know what half of this shit is, but he does recognize some of the products he’s seen you use.

“you act as if you’ve never been to a hair store before,” you say, before laughing under your breath at the deadpan look on your husband’s face as you drop yet another hair product into the basket he’s holding. “you know you can sit in the car if you don’t wanna be in here with me.”

simon’s eyes soften when they land on you. you’re aware of his staring, but you don’t meet his gaze. you’re too busy comparing two different brands of heat protector.

“of course i want to be here,” he murmurs quietly, from where he stands beside you. “wouldn’t’ve left the house if that was the case, lovie.”

you acknowledge his words with a hum, before turning slightly to place the bottle into the basket. you’re secretly happy simon’s decided to take this little trip to the store with you. he’s barely been home for a week and you’ve missed him. simon’s always gone for work, so you try to spend as much time with him as you can. it helps to lessen the ache in your heart when you know he’ll be leaving again. whether it’s grocery shopping, trips to a home improvement store, or if you’re just going to pick up some takeout, you’re always at his side.

simon follows you from aisle to aisle with no complaint. he’s your silent but deadly shadow, who only speaks when he’s curious about something on the shelves, or if you ask for his opinion.

“you gettin’ your hair braided?” he asks with a raised brow when he recognizes the wall you keep glancing at as you walk. he doesn’t remember hearing you mention anything about braids to him.

you shake head, “no, i think i’m gonna do something different this time. i’m just browsing.”

“is that why you’ve been on youtube the last three nights, instead of sleepin’?”

you roll your eyes at the amusement you hear in his tone, because of course he knows what you’ve been doing late at night while he’s asleep. simon’s always been a light sleeper. you can’t move an inch without him knowing what you’re up to.

“i thought i was being quiet,” you laugh as you come to a stop when you find the aisle that has the last item on your list.

unfortunately for you, the oil you want is out of stock. you let out a soft noise of disappointment and resort to pouting, which doesn’t go unnoticed by your husband.

simon laughs softly at your facial expression. “stop pouting, lovie. would you be open to finding a substitute? or we can go to another store,” he suggests, even though he already knows the answer to his question.

but you shake your head stubbornly, whining, “i don’t want an alternative.” and you’re definitely not going to another store. “i’ll just make due with what i have.”

“okay,” your husband says quietly as he commits the name of your favorite oil to his memory, before closing the distance between you two and brushing his thumb across your cheek. “got everything ya need then, love?”

you can only nod and mumble out a yes, honey while you try not to swoon at the tender look in simon’s eyes. you have to refrain from chasing his hand when he withdraws his touch.

damn did i miss him that much, you think to yourself when he takes your hand and leads you to the front of the store.

when you step up to the register to pay, you take the basket from simon and exchange pleasantries with the cashier, before placing your items on the counter.

simon glares at you when you start digging in your purse for your wallet. “what do you think you’re think you’re doing?” he asks calmly, his voice low enough for your ears only.

you freeze immediately and stare up at him with a confused look. “looking for my wallet,” you answer slowly, before doing just that.

you stop rummaging when simon huffs under his mask and eases around you, so he can pay for your things. no matter how many times you’ve told this man that you can pay for your own stuff, he refuses to listen. you don’t even protest anymore whenever he pulls his wallet out in the store, like you used to at the start of your relationship. you think it’s nice to have someone take care of you.

“thank you,” you say softly when simon intertwines his fingers with yours, and leads you away from the register and out the door.

you do get an earful from him on the ride back home though. your husband cannot fathom why you insist on paying for anything when he’s told you time and time again that it’s his job to pay for everything, his job to provide. hell, simon barely even lets you lift a finger around the house when he’s home.

sometimes if you’re stubborn enough, he’ll let you get away with cooking or cleaning. you better not press your luck next time, though, because he can be just as stubborn as you.

when you get home, you let simon kiss you senseless, before you separate so he can get some work done and you can empty out your bags. when you’re done putting your purchases away and reorganizing your hair products, you get started on your hair.

you’re in the bathroom plugging your blow dryer into the socket, so you can dry your freshly washed hair, when simon makes his presence known. he doesn’t say anything at first. he’s content with watching the way you handle your coils with care as you apply some pink lotion before using a comb to loosen up some of the kinks. when you reach for the blow dryer to cut it on, simon decides to speak.

“leave it.”

his soft request makes you pause.

“leave what?” you ask, before setting the blow dryer back down onto the bathroom counter, and giving simon your undivided attention.

“your hair.” he says softly, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror. “i like it this way. natural, curly.”

“are you implying that you don’t like it when i wear braids? you got a problem with my wigs, riley?” you ask with a pout, your eyes full of mirth.

“not at all, love.” simon loves your hair in any form. “you know i don’t care about that. long hair, short hair, wigs, or braids. it doesn’t matter to me. i wouldn’t give a shit if you were bald.”

you turn to him fully, “then why—”

“you never let me see you like this,” simon blurts out, a blush high on his cheeks when you stare at him in surprise. “it’s always fleeting. and i understand that you’re always so particular about your hair. but for once, let me see it like this. let me see you.” he pulls on a soft coil for emphasis, grinning when you bat his hand away.

“didn’t know you felt that way, si. why didn’t you say anything sooner?” you shoot him an exasperated look when he just shrugs and rubs the back of his neck. “thought i would say no, huh?”

simon blows out a breath, before he chuckles and nods, “fuck yes.” sometimes you were set in your ways and he couldn’t change your mind.

he lets out a low laugh when you slap his chest lightly. “i don’t say no all the time,” you protest, as a bubble laughter spills from your lips when he snorts.

“you told me no this morning,” he points out, remembering how he almost had you bent over the railing of your balcony earlier that day until you realized what he was trying to do.

“that’s because you wanted to fuck me on our balcony. that’s a perfectly good reason for me to say no,” you argue. in your mind that does not count. “had i let you continue, someone would have seen.”

“you’d be too drunk on my cock to notice a peeping tom,” he smirks when you let out a groan.

“you’re impossible, simon riley,” you huff, before turning away from him and unplugging your blow dryer.

“so i’ve been told,” he shrugs, before pressing himself against your back and tilting your head to the side so he can press soft kisses to your jaw.

your eyes flutter shut almost immediately when simon’s teeth grazes the soft skin of your jaw, making you whimper and moan before you can stop yourself.

“s–simon,” you choke out. you’re not sure if you want him to stop, or if you want him to bend you over the sink and split you open on his cock.

“yeah?” he rasps against your jaw, making you sag slightly in his hold, when his thick fingers start tugging at the waistband of your leggings.

“need to fix my hair,” you hiss at him, though you make no move to stop him.

when simon backs away from you and takes up his previous spot in the doorway, you almost change your mind. almost. you should be applying your curling cream, not letting your husband devour you at the bathroom sink. you let out sigh when you reach up to touch your hair, glaring at simon when you notice how it’s already started to air dry. it’s definitely his fault.

“don’t even think about blaming me.”

“you’re the one who tried to distract me from doing my hair, so yes i do blame you,” you sniff, feeling indignant.

“and yet it didn’t stop you from moaning and rubbin’ your ass on my cock, now did it?” before you can retaliate, simon ducks out of the bathroom with a bark of laughter.

you’re propped up against a mountain of pillows with your bonnet on and your nose in a book when you feel the weight of simon’s gaze on you.

“stop staring at me.”

“i can’t stare at my beautiful wife?” simon replies from where he stands in the doorway of your bedroom, soft amber eyes taking you in.

“simon,” you whine, suddenly feeling a little shy because of all the attention he’s been giving you today.

simon hasn’t stopped staring at you since you exited the bathroom earlier in all of your natural glory. he’d even asked for your permission, before he sank his fingers into your soft coils. he was a bit surprised when you said yes, because you’ve always told him the one thing black women do not tolerate, is a person touching their hair. it was even worse when they touched it without permission. he didn’t seem bothered at all, when you told him not to get used to it.

your eyes follow simon as he steps further into the room and tosses his shirt onto the chair in the corner, before he climbs into bed next to you. he does his usual grumbling about the mountain of pillows you insist on torturing him with. he tosses several pillows to the bottom of the bed, then makes himself comfortable. you barely put up a fuss when simon pats around the bed and searches for your bookmark with one hand, while he gently pries the book away from you with his other hand.

“c’mere, love,” he croons while tugging you closer, then murmuring, “much better,” when you climb on top of him.

a soft sigh escapes your lips when simon starts stroking his big warm hands up and down your spine. a light squeeze to the back of your neck has you lifting your head, your eyes meeting your husband’s. you squirm a little when he presses his lips to yours, taking advantage of the way you gasp softly by slipping his tongue in your mouth. the way simon nips at your bottom lip and does his best to shove his tongue down your throat makes you a bit dizzy. but not dizzy enough to be unaware of his hand gripping the edge of your bonnet and tugging it off your head.

you pull away from the kiss to sit up and glare at his sneaky ass. “what do you think you’re doing simon?” you ask, snatching your bonnet from him.

“one day i’m gonna hide that shit,” he threatens, his lips curving up into a smirk when you clutch the bonnet to your chest with a shake of your head.

“you wouldn’t dare!”

he absolutely would. he’s tried it before.

“i will. leave the bonnet off. i wanna see your curls bounce while you ride my cock,” simon says in a tone that makes you whimper and has your eyes widening.

“don’t you mess up my hair,” you say warningly, before tugging off your shirt.

simon pretends not to hear you as his hand dives into your sleep shorts.

-

hair series masterlist

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