like i'm sorry but we as a fandom have to stay firm on our anti-AI values. we cannot suddenly start giving AI a pass when it's something we "want to see" like destiel kisses. it's not suddenly fine. we're not going to start using AI to make fanfic scenes come to life or audio AI to make characters "say" stuff we want to hear. you have GOT to be firm on your anti-AI stance. if you start making exceptions then suddenly anything will fly. fandom is for real art and creations made by real people. no AI fanfics. no AI art. no AI rendered "bonus" scenes. no AI audio. none of it has a place here.

*sees a mutual in my dash* i love you 🥺🫶 *sees a different mutual in my dash* i love you 🥺🫶 *sees yet another mutual in my dash* i love you 🥺🫶

My headcanon about Jonah's last name:

I've been thinking about this a lot, and this is what I've landed on and what makes sense to me.

I think Gwyn named him just Jonah Morgan and didn't give him Enzo's last name. I can definitely see her wanting to share a last name with her son, particularly if she and Enzo weren't going to be in a relationship, which Gwyn was adamant about. (Also, it admittedly just makes things easier to not have to find a way to work de la Costa in there with the other last names I have to work with 😂 but still I think it logically makes sense that Gwyn would only give Jonah her name.)

Then, when TK and Carlos officially adopt him, they give him Strand-Reyes* as a last name and they both change their last names to match so they can all share a last name. When they do that, they can keep Morgan as a middle name. Presumably Gwyn already gave Jonah a middle name, but a kid can have two middle names! I'm still thinking about what it might be that would sound good with:

Jonah _____ Morgan Strand-Reyes

*I've wavered on whether I prefer Strand-Reyes or Reyes-Strand. Usually I land on Strand-Reyes, but it's not like I'm not horribly opposed to Reyes-Strand. I could really go either way on it. I think I'm partial to Strand-Reyes just because that's the one I've used most often in my head so I'm used to it.

people who dont experience it cannot comprehend how awful executive dysfunction is. I WANT to do the task, i have the resources TO do the task, i will feel better having DONE the task

but i cant fucking do the task

Thank you for the tag @whatsintheboxmh @heartstringsduet @nisbanisba @annoyingcloudearthquake

@carlossreaders @strandnreyes @bonheur-cafe @lemonlyman-dotcom

@chicgeekgirl89 @emsprovisions @rangersoup @sanjuwrites 🧡

“I’m such a mess,” TK laughs without smiling. “Must have been a real treat coming home to this.”

“Hey. No. Look at me,” Carlos commands softly, even though TK is pinned beneath him and can do nothing but. Running his fingers through his husband’s floof of hair, Carlos goes on, “You are more beautiful to me today than ever before.”

“Shut up.”

“It’s true though.”

“It’s not.”

“Yes it is.”

“I’m a mess. The house is a mess. I couldn’t get Jonah settled, so I couldn’t really unpack and start making things nicer. We have peeling wallpaper. Weeds growing in the gutter. The porch roof–”

“I’m going to fix up the porch!” Carlos declares grandly, for some reason deepening his voice. “That’s a me job, okay?”

“And I found three snails in the downstairs bathroom, so they’re getting in somehow.”

Carlos rises up from TK slightly, hovering over him. In a much smaller voice, he says, “Snails?”

The masculine connotation of a bow tie and the feminine connotation of a bow on the top of the head implies a nonbinary bow style placed directly over the nose

Hi everyone! Happy Wednesday. Here's a bit from the next chapter of I'm way too good at bad decisions, which I'm not sure yet when it'll be up! I have an interview tomorrow and I'd love some good vibes about it if you can send some my way 💕

“Hey,” Carlos says, aiming for casual as he slides up beside TK at the bar.

“Hey,” TK greets back, leaning forward to nudge his shoulder with Carlos’s. “You look good.”

“Thanks,” Carlos’s smile brightens, warmth flooding his belly. “So do you.”

TK looks away, his sultry smile turning bashful at the sign of a compliment. “Thanks,” he says softly. “Are you going to order a drink, or do you wanna dance?”

“Oh, hell no,” Marjan stops the two right there. “Y’all are not abandoning us so quickly. Get a drink Carlos, because I think we’re owed a story. I thought y’all hated each other.”

“Oh that was before the breakfast date and morning hookup,” Nancy purrs, her eyes gleaming. 

“What!” Marjan’s eyes light up as well as she looks between Nancy and then TK and Carlos. “What’s the tea??”

“There’s no tea, Marj,” Carlos groans. “TK and I ran into each other on our run this morning and decided to have breakfast together.”

“That’s not the whole story,” Marjan quirks a perfectly manicured brow.

“Oh, trust me, TK was being an annoying little bitch about the details too,” Nancy quips.

“Holy shit,” TK rolls his eyes. “It’s my business, not y’all’s.”

“No but you made it our business,” Nancy bites back. 

“Alright, alright, how about we order drinks and go somewhere more private,” Carlos says finally. “We all barely know each other, so why don’t we try getting to know each other?”

Good morning! Thank you for the tags @whatsintheboxmh @heartstringsduet @nisbanisba @annoyingcloudearthquake @carlossreaders @bonheur-cafe 💕

When Jonah’s dressed in his Bluey pajamas and ready to be tucked into bed, he crawls into Carlos’s lap and demands a reading of The Monster at the End of This Book, complete with all the goofy voices that Jonah and TK have decided Carlos does best.

He makes a game of trying to convince Jonah not to turn the pages, that the closer they get to the end, the closer they get to the monster. Jonah laughs, reaching for the pages and turning them quickly, cackling when Carlos amps up his animated reading, pretending to get more and more panicked about the monster at the end of the book.

He tickles Jonah’s tummy when they get to the final page, eliciting a happy, high-pitched squeal.

“What a brave boy,” he praises. “You weren’t afraid of the monster.”

“He’s a FRIENDLY MONSTER, Papa!”

“You’re right, mijo,” he agrees, kissing Jonah’s head. “It’s just lovable, furry old Grover. Who could be scared of him?”

He allows himself a moment to soak in this new life of his, in his cozy yet slightly impractical home, surrounded by his beautiful family.

He loves the way he feels with Jonah curled in his lap, giggling at his words and clutching at his shirt with a tiny fist. Loves the way Jonah loudly demands more books while TK crowds up next to them on the couch cushion, lightly teasing him and joining in with Jonah’s demands. And he thinks, maybe, he hasn’t fucked up this whole dad thing as much as he feared.

"What's that?"

Carlos glances at his rearview mirror to see Jonah tracing something along the air with his finger pointed towards the window. When he looks out of it, he is met with the waxing crescent moon smiling down at all of them from across the grass field.

"That's the moon."

"It's looking at me." There is a slight frown to his voice like he's not sure how he feels about that.

Carlos hums, a smile on his lips and a soft chuckle from TK in his ear. "Yeah, I guess it is."

"Why?"

"Why?" Carlos purses his lips as Jonah exclaims a 'yeah' that gets lost to the hum of the engine and the tranquility of the night. He tries to come up with an answer to something he doesn't actually know with something that he knows is true.

Instead his searching eyes lock with TK's for just a moment. His green eyes sparkling in the moonlight like stars, soft and mirthful and fond, in that way that only happens when he's looking at him and is thinking he's found his way home.

He finds his answer.

"Because it loves you, baby."

"It does?"

"Of course it does." Carlos spares a glance to Jonah again, now straining against his seatbelt, hand splayed out as if reach out to touch moon. "There's so much to love."

i believe this is my first time posting this fic on wip wednesday!

“Can I be like you when I grow up?”

TK frowns. He doesn’t want Jonah to ever be anything like him. He swallows, “how do you mean?”

Jonah twists, looking up at his older brother with wonder in his dark eyes. His mothers eyes. His palm lands against TK’s, near his camera. “You’re cool, and people like you.”

TK sighs, and even with the lack of correct pronunciation, he understands.

“Jonah, you are already cool. And Charlie likes you, I love you.” He lightly tickles his stomach, “you can be whoever you want to be. You can be Jonah Robert Strand.”

Jonah grins, “whoever I want?”

TK nods, squeezing him tightly. “Whoever you want.”

WIP Wednesday

Turns out Mateo barely remembered anything.

Nancy had gotten out pen and paper and conducted a journalist worthy interview with the ghost but unfortunately they had gotten nowhere.

“Do you remember where you lived?” 

A shake of the head.

“What your job was?” 

Another no.

“Your friends?” 

Silence.

“Do you even remember your last name?” Nancy whispered gently. Mateo just sniffled softly, tears slipping down his face as he shook his head no once again. 

She stopped asking questions after that. 

After School is Carlitos and Mamá time, where he eats a big delicious snack and tells her all about his day, about what he learned, who he played with, what he read, what interesting clouds he’d seen, and she smiles and kisses his head and tells him what a smart, good boy he is, and asks if he wants more tortillas.

On this day, though, he comes home from school tired, his head aching, and he stares at his plate and picks at a concha. It tastes wrong, and his eyes well with tears when it hurts to swallow.

“Eat, eat, mijito,” his mom calls from the stove, and he forces himself to take another bite. When the tears spill over and he sobs a little at how wrong everything feels, Mama looks at him, then swiftly turns off the stove and hurries to his side. “Ay, mijo, qué te pasa, what’s wrong, what’s wrong? Tell Mamá,” she pleads as he sobs into her sweater.

“I don’t know,” he hiccups, rubbing his face on her shoulder.

She rocks him back and forth, presses her lips to his forehead. “Ay, Carlitos, you’re so warm.”

“I’m cold,” he argues, because he is now, shaking in his t-shirt, even though he’s all wrapped up in Mamá’s warm hug.

“Ay, mi amor. Pobrecito, let’s get you to bed.”

Before he knows it he is in his pajamas, snuggled up with Kique the koala in his parents’ big bed. Mamá flits in and out, taking his temperature and making him sip tea and soup and swallow vile bitter red medicine he wants to spit right back out. “You need to take it if you want to feel better,” Mamá says.

Carlos cries but obeys. “Mami?” he rasps through his tears afterwards.

“Sí, mijo.” Mamá’s fingers are soft on his face, swiping away tears and combing his hair back.

“Can I have a story? Kique wants one about Australia.”

“Claro que sí, mi corazón.” She gets into the bed with him, and he burrows into her side as she wraps her arms around him and Kique both. That’s all he really wanted, anyway.

Officer Stevenson strokes his handlebar mustache. He looks older these days, thinner but sharper for it.  “You owe me one, Reyes.” Turning his attention to Jonah, he puts his thumbs in his belt, draws himself up taller. “And you, young man? I don’t want to see your or your friends out vandalizing this town, you hear me? Your dad can’t always bail you out.”

There used to be this reflex, this bracing each time someone mentioned Carlos being Jonah’s dad like they would surely be corrected. Carlos? God no, he’s not my dad! 

It never happened. Not even when Jonah was little and he could hold his tongue even less than he can now.

Carlos stopped bracing for it. Maybe he should have, because Stevenson turns to his car, only to turn one more time to say, “Don’t let him off too easy. You know, your pops would have never let you off with just a warning. You’d be in the back of my cop car, stewing there longer than most kids, just to teach you a lesson.”

The worst thing about this is that Carlos immediately believes Stevensn’s words. There’s no proof for it, no trouble big enough that Carlos or his sisters ever got into. For all he knows, his dad would have called in a favor too. Years passing by and he still feels confused about his childhood, about his relationship to his father.

But it pales in comparison to the old wound of what he was robbed of. He wishes he could call him up now, ask him what he would do. What he had said to Luisa when she came home drunk, because Carlos had to leave the room back then. What he would say about Carlos being a father-figure and if he thought he did a good job.

He feels Jonah move under the hand Carlos kept on his shoulder. “He’s-- he’s a real asshole.” For a moment Carlos is angry before he understands Jonah means Stevenson, not his father. “Don’t listen to h'm.”

“Don’t insult law enforcers,” Carlos chides, because he has to. He also has to kiss his kid’s head to thank him for the bit of solidarity that comes so naturally to Gwyn’s sons. “Now come on. We’ll talk in the car.”

OPEN TAG &

WIP Wednesday

happy Wednesday!

this art time lapse

arts I'm drawing now