#( fuck this laptop for making me take 100 years to finally get this out )

[jesse-cromeans-sugarbaby]

Hi love how are you? Hope you are doing well and taking care of yourself❤️

I was wondering if you would write about jesse cromeans x reader were the reader found out about Jesse's hobbies,after years of relationship and she decided to break up with him (in one condition she wouldn't rat him out).

And Jesse had been keeping a close eye on her (stalking her ect), till he noticed how she started forming a bump (lol she's pregnant) so he decides to start sending her baby things yk

(a crib, toys, high chair ect.ect) at her door step (like it's he's kind of way to tell her that hey yk ik you don't want me no more and shit but I still wanna make sure u have everything you need lol)

And you take it from there feel free to delete this if you don't like it or just don't wanna write about ❤️I do still enjoy all of your work your blog is amazing and so is your writing 🥰and congratulations on hitting 100 followers.

I do really hope more people would notice your blog YOU DESERVE IT AFTER ALL ❤️❤️

A/n: (WHEWWWWWW I’ve been gone for a hot minute I apologize everyone. Anyway as you requested my darling I’m sorry it took me so long to write.)

JESSE CROMEANS X PREGNANT!READER

WARNINGS: talks of murder, Jesse is obsessed with you (lucky), kissing,kidnapping, sexual themes.

A WEEK AGO

I’m….pregnant? Looking down at the positive pregnancy test. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! What do I do? I can’t tell him can I? Shit. I look at myself in the mirror. I smile and throw away the pregnancy test hiding it under more trash.

Your boyfriend loves you of course you know that but you guys never discussed pregnancy. He never discussed kids and neither did you…sighing I brush my teeth to get rid of the throw up taste in my mouth. How was I gonna tell him. Maybe I should surprise him?

I walk out of the bathroom and into our bedroom I look at him and I smile. He looks up at me smirking patting the spot next to him. I giggle hoping into bed with him. “How was your day princess?” He signs before kissing down the front of my neck to my cleavage. Running my fingers along his back. “It was good….really..really busy” yeah and I’m pregnant.

He nods before pulling you into a kiss, smiling I wrap my arms around his neck. He pulls me on top of him he slides his hands up your nightgown before flipping me onto my back, I start giggling. The next morning I jolt awake. I look beside me seeing him gone. Ah he must’ve already left. I see a note confirming my thoughts

It says “had to leave for work, love you I’ll call you later” I smile before seeing his laptop open…smiling to myself can’t help but snoop. I grab it and open it. Oh it’s his email, must’ve forgotten to close it. I see a email that catches my eye. I click on it.

Horrified, no…..it was a video of Jesse murdering a woman…he threw her onto the ground before raising his knife in the air and plunging it into her head. Gagging I close the video and slam the laptop closed.

I run to the bathroom to throw up.

——————————————————

Sitting across from him at dinner i held the pregnancy test in your pocket. I stared at him as he typed away on his phone before finally turning to look at you. “We should discuss something” Jesse stared for a minute before typing away on his phone before playing it “we can discuss it later princess” no now Jesse” he sighed before nodding

“I know…..” that’s all I said…it’s all I could really say in the moment. He stared at me before pulling out his phone typing “and?” “And? Really Jesse?” He stared before cracking his neck. “I don’t think I can be involved with you…anymore”

“And I promise I won’t tell”….he stood walking over to me before nodding “as long as you keep your mouth shut princess…it won’t be a problem”

Little did you know Jesse was fuming.

————————

I was working to jobs right now to afford this shit hole of an apartment. That I shared with my shitty roommate. With the baby on the way I’m wasn’t sure if I could pull off being a single mom. Jolting awake rushing to the bathroom I feel dizzy and nauseated. I hunch over the toilet before throwing up. I sit on the floor of the bathroom…my belly is slightly bigger now.

Standing up I look at myself in the mirror frowning before brushing my teeth and getting dressed for work. Grabbing my brush I put my hair into a low pony tail. As I struggle to tie my sneakers I hear my door bell ring. Sighing I drop my shoes before walking over to the door looking through the peep hole seeing nothing.

“Hm.”

Opening the door I see a box, tilting my head I bring the box inside opening it. It’s…filled with bath bombs, robe, tea, and looking at the card it says “relax you deserve it” smiling assuming it’s from your mom. Grabbing your phone your shove it into your purse before putting on flats giving up in sneakers.

Walking out of the house the waddling down towards the bus stop. Where I sat down and waited for my bus to arrive.

*In the distance there the soft hun the an engine, Jesse watches you from a black Bentley. He takes a puff from the cigarette he was smoking to watch as you get onto the bus he starts his car following after the bus. Once the bus stops and you hop out he parks the car watching you walk past shops to get to your work.

He notices you looking at a summer dress in the stores window. Smiling he watches you sigh before walking away.*

—————————————————

I sighed as I scrubbed the tables in the diner I work for. Humming as I wipe down the tables grabbing the menus, I walk over to the kitchen the head chef barb stops me “hey hun how ya feeling” I smile rubbing my back I laugh “oh you know the same old stuff” she smiles and hands me a iced tea and a plate of cookies “go take a break hun and eat”

Smiling I nod taking them from her, I sit she smiles they brought a chair back here so I could sit whenever needed. I munch on the cookies happily taking a sip as I stuff the cookies into my mouth. Barb laughs before continuing to work.

Suddenly our boss is in kitchen “get back to work all of ya!?”

———————————————

I sighed softly as I unpackaged the 15th box to arrive this week…I didn’t buy any of this baby stuff and when I asked my mother who was sending it she just said no. I scratched my head trying to figure out how to put this crib together. To be fair I wasn’t doing to well on my own. I was worried about how I’d be able to afford all this. You’d think with two jobs I’d be able to support myself. Suddenly my phone rings I sigh standing walking over to it answering the phone.

“Hello?”

I hear nothing…I’ve been hoping Jesse would reach out I looked at all the baby stuff before breaking out into tears shake as I ball into my hands. I thought I could do this. I caress my bump humming as I try to gather myself. “We’re gonna be okay”

Jesses fist is clenched tightly as he watches through the camera. Jesse was not gonna just sit by anymore you are his. He look over to span and Preston before standing. He grabbed Preston by the collars and ordered him to get the car ready.

———————————————

Hearing a crash I jolted up holding my stomach I look around confused before standing up the night gown I’m wearing is stretched over my belly. “Hello?” I wa all into the hallway seeing a trail of blood. My eyes widen in shock following the blood. I walk into the kitchen to see Jesse hunched over my dead roommate. He notices me and we just sit there staring at one another. He inhales the smell of you filling his nostrils. God hes missed you.

Staring down at him you don’t know what to say…horrified but happy? Like horrified he murdered your roommate but happy to see him? He stands slowly as if you’ll run away. “Hey princess” he signs I feel tears in my eyes…he approaches before he pulls you into a hug. I lay my head on his chest sighing suddenly trying to pull away when I feel a prick in my neck.

“Ouch…what the hell was that!”

“Just a light sedative…I’m bringing you home.” He types quickly before he grab you and carries you bridal style out of the apartment and to the car he sets you in slowly before buckling you in. He smiles his hand touches your stomach. He takes off his mask placing a kiss on your forehead. I placed his mask back on walking over to the drivers side opening the door he sits down looking over at you closing the door.

He starts driving back home…

He contacted spann typing out “I have her…prepare for her arrival.”

[gloomyluvr]

EMBARAZADO

in which miles just wants to talk to his gf 🤷🏻‍♀️

fem!plussize!latina reader x miles morales

(anyone can read tho)

fluff guys. just fluff.

warnings!: i know jackshit about the comics so if like nothing is lore accurate or wtv im sorry. 100% Self indulgent. ik miles is a bit of a no sabo (😣) but we’re gonna pretend hes a bit more fluent 🥰

a/n: hey bitchess im back. you alr know i had to write for my bae miles. first miles fic and first fic in a year so sorry if this is bad.

masterlist

“ughh im so tired bro. apenas ‘stoy terminando the english homework.” y/n yawned into her phone. miles had called her as he finished his rounds swinging around the city making sure it was as safe as it could possibly be. 

“ugh, i have to do it when i get back to my dorm.” miles grunted as he swung from building to building. 

“i’ll send you a copy of mine if you need a reference.” miles only hummed in response. y/n had noticed the sound of the strong wind had calmed down. the phone on her desk suddenly buzzing. it was miles requesting a facetime call. 

“contesta! you have to see this view!” miles exclaimed. y/n answered with her camera turned off. 

“hmm. that looks amazing.”

“un dia, im taking you to all my favorite spots.” miles promised. he turned his camera to face him and that’s when he noticed y/ns camera was turned off. “heyy! turn on your camera. i wanna see your face!”

“ughh noooo! i look so fugly rn. i look like that weird dog filter on snapchat!” y/n turned her camera. she propped her phone up against her laptop.

“wait... that was a filter?” miles raised his eyebrow. 

“hey!!!! que malo!” she turned her camera off which miles responded to in protest. 

“nooo! im kidding y/nnn. pleaseee i wanna see your beautiful facee!” y/n complied smiling as she finally let miles clearly see her face. 

“hermosa!!!” miles jokingly blew kissed towards his phone. 

“ughhh stop it! that’s so embarrassing.” 

“how is me calling my novia ‘hermosa’ embarrassing? are you embarrassed of me” miles jokingly gasped as if he were offended. 

“YES!!” 

“WHATT?”

“miles, when i first heard about you it was cuz you pulled someones hair out!! that’s so embarrassing!” y/n laughed while miles cringed at the memory. 

“it was a total accident! i can’t believe you’re using this against me!” miles once again grunted as he resumed swinging. 

“are you embarazado?” y/n burst out in laughter at her own joke. miles tried not to laugh but hearing y/n’s laugh, he couldn’t keep it in.

“yes, estoy very embarazado.” he said as serious as he could. y/n only laughed more. “that’s so stupid bro. i can’t believe you’re dying at that.” he chuckled. once y/n calmed down miles spoke again, “is your roommate there?”

y/n looked behind her where her bunkbed was. “nope, i think she went to stay with her parents for the weekend. why?”

“so i could come over. no vas ir con tus papas?”

“nah, they’re outta town, remember?” miles hummed in response.

“amor, open your window please.” y/n did as miles asked. once he was fully inside, y/n engulfed him in a hug.

“hi love.” she sleepily said. 

“hi mi amor.” he kissed her forehead. 

“‘m so tiredd. changeee i wanna go mimis already.” y/n let go and went to lay down on the bottom bunk. she went and got comfy under her covers while waiting for miles to change into the pj’s she kept for him. once he was changed he turned the lights off. miles was back in front of y/n, putting some random netlifx show on y/n’s laptop.

finally he got on the bed and under the covers. y/n sighed as she cuddled up against miles.

“imagine if your mom saw us. god, poor mrs. morales would have a heart attack.”

“nah my mom adores you. imagine if YOUR dad saw us. he’d kill us!” 

“no he wouldn’t. he loves you! i think he loves you more than he loves me.”

“hmmm you’re right. im just better than you” miles shrugged.

“ok. fuck you.” y/n jokingly tried pushing miles away but he wouldn’t let go.

“nope. you’re staying here.” 

“hmm, im fine with that.”

[thessalian]

Thess vs Performance Review 2024

Well, performance review finally happened. Not that I was particularly stressed about it - honestly, I don't have the energy for that shit. I know damn well they can't afford to lose me, and that must translate to a good performance review, right? I mean, surely they know as well as I do how much they can't afford to have me not doing even the hours I currently do.

...I had no idea quite how much they understood that. Not even last year's apparent triumph.

Before the review even got underway, it was, "Oh, hey, did you ever hear back about that monitor you asked about?" When my response was, "Nooooooo and I did ask again back in July, and I also noticed it's been giving me headaches that sometimes spark migraines", Scruffman was very much on it. As an aside - just to have it on record, as we were talking about equipment - I mentioned that I'd figured out why I kept having the electronic patient record system crash on me. It's not the server that's lacking memory - it's this very old i5-running POS laptop. I checked out Task Manager earlier, and it turns out that that fucking machine is quite often hitting 100% CPU and RAM capacity. Like, regularly. I mean, it's hardly a surprise, when you think about it - Windows is now rolling out some of its AI features onto Win10 machines, which is a resource hog right there on top of Win10's usual bloat, plus the various security features that have to be running on a machine handling patient data. But that old Dell just can't handle that shit without horking occasionally, in the same way you shouldn't feed very small children whole grapes - you have to cut them in half first.

Anyway, Scruffman was very much, "Oh, okay, we should be proactive about this because we want you to have all the tools you need." I was ... a little stunned, but said I'd email him a summary of our conversation about my current equipment so he could escalate it to Head Honcho. He was, again, very jazzed about this. I swallowed my surprised blink as best I could, and on we went.

Honestly, I wasn't surprised for long, because we got right into the "core values" section, which ranks a bunch of workplace stuff from Needs Improvement to Exceeds Expectations. I actually put "Exceeds Expectations" on a few more things this year than I did last year, and Scruffman told me it still wasn't enough. We had the same conversation where I explained that I just have very high expectations of myself. But he said something different this year. This year, he said, "Yeah, just I really want to make sure you get the maximum possible money because we really love having you and would really hate to lose you".

So ... I ... can apparently expect a raise?!? For some reason, this blows me entirely away. There's not a lot of that about these days. But ... I mean, hey, if he thinks I've earned ALL THE RAISE, I'm not going to argue with him.

Anyway, upshot was that I am apparently magnificent. Which ... I guess. I do my job to the best of my abilities and this is somehow some kind of miracle. Then again, given...

Yeah, there was a conversation about the others too. My dedication to prioritising workload properly (urgent cases, then chronologically) was lauded, and I did point out the cherry-picking going on. (Seriously, it only takes a look at the archives to see it. We're still on yesterday's long-ass bullshit and New Girl was grabbing the short-and-easys from today before yesterday's typing was finished. I can't blame Temp for this one because she wasn't in today, but I figure she does similar.) Let's just say that Scruffman was not pleased. He very seldom gets grim and determined-looking, but I guess given today's performance review, there was a feel of, "Okay, we're going to have to actually do something about this shit because this is the one thing that my star secretary complains about and it probably needs to stop". I can't expect him to stop it completely, mind - he'd have to be hovering over their shoulder at all times - but the fact that he's going to have a word at all is saying something.

Not that that helped at the end of today, or anything. By the time my performance review meeting was finished, my forms signed off by both parties, and my overworked ass was sitting back down ... well. There was almost nothing in the queue that didn't top five minutes. The first three on the list were 9, 6, and 20 minutes respectively. (Yeah, you read right - twenty fucking minutes. Of course it was Breast Guy.) Now, my meeting was in the afternoon, I still had some mid-length but persnickety stuff in my queue, there was a five-minute urgent case that no one wanted to touch, and I hoped that someone would pick up at least one or two of the longer ones by the time I was done. Just so that it wouldn't all be sitting there for the duration. Nope. New Girl picked up a thirty-second one from this morning at about 4pm and was gone after that. (I still don't know what hours she works, but I have a feeling it's not as many as her contract states...). Goblin tried, but ... nope. I did the nine and six minute ones, which took a half-hour between them because they were from one of our worst word salad individuals. I could obviously make it make sense - that's my job - but it takes time. So ... well, that twenty minute long Breast Guy monstrosity is someone else's problem.

Thing is ... there's a reason I try not to do long dictations at the end of the day. It's because by then, I'm tired and usually having pain flares. Today's no different, but I had to vent a bit. And maybe brag a tiny bit.

Anyway, happy Halloween / Veilguard day! I'm pondering treating myself to takeaway. I did good. (And also I hurt a lot and not-cooking feels like a thing.)

[serendertothesquad]

Seren's Studies: Odd Squad UK -- "Miss Information" Episode Followup, Part 1

Not sure if I ever told anyone, but on the off chance someone is keeping up with the news...remember when Sinking Ship announced a media literacy program aimed at kids with Nicole Stamp (who plays Phyllis on Odd Squad) as the host? That may or may not have aired already because I didn't bother to check?

That's exactly what this episode reminds me of from the title alone. The only problem is that media literacy isn't really a STEM topic.

Either way, I'm not exactly setting my bar high for this one after the bombs that were the last two episodes. Here's hoping this batch can go out with a bang that sounds like "yay, party!" instead of "oh God, pure obliteration".

Below the break.

I'm sorry, I could only understand "tofu" in this sentence, but...did they seriously give my girl fucking euphemisms to utter? It sounds so PBS-Kids-core to me in a way I can't explain that it's almost sickening.

Least she doesn't do it all the time, hehe...heh...h- right? Right?

...Right?

Interestingly, this episode doesn't have a writing credit. Either the American version left it out, it's a mistake across the international board (or perhaps not), or this episode had the entire damn team diving in and it's too much for opening credits.

Having bad writers is one thing. Not crediting your writers is another. Hate on them I do, but I at least respect people taking jobs to earn a living regardless of experience.

"You two are my next contestants on The Exposition Price is Right!"

"Is she being serious?"

Yes! And if neither Orli nor Ozzie appear in this entire episode I'll be dead shocked.

"Not everything has to be about them" indeed.

Laptops have been around for decades, long before Odd Squad premiered.

They decide to make a Director use one in the year 2024, 10 years after I had the idea spinning in my head like a rotisserie chicken.

And no, they don't need a laptop with the big screen they have...but I figured, if Investigation agents have computers, Directors should have them too for their own personal use.

And this concludes my presentation of why they should've hired me.

Hey, we finally found Macklemore's buddy, Ryan Lewis! Covered in slime! Er, syrup!

So he hates the workplace but wants Captain O to do a favor for him...as a friend and not as a Director?

I mean setting aside the fact that he's an idiot for taking the words of criminals at face value, this isn't logic that will get you a "yes" answer.

VILLAIN NEWS AND IT'S JUST A PARODY OF BBC WORLD NEWS AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

Oh God...what bumfuck network would even allow this regularly-airing newscast for criminals and by criminals? Actual news networks interviewing people in prison are more sane!

As arbitrary as Family Feud's "we asked 100 people the following question and here are the answers we are given".

Normally, though, if this were actual news and not fake news, it'd include the name of the town and actual sta- oh. Oh wait this episode does have actual stats doesn't it. Mmmmm okay never mind that.

Your bar graph's also backwards, honey. Bar graphs have ascending axis numbers, not descending. By your logic then no people dislike Odd Squad and those who like it, a mere 20, would win by majority.

This could be pinned on bad editing, but I could also pin it on this woman being a fuck-all idiot, and that's funner so I'll do that instead.

Yeah...yeah, you leave. Remind us that with your political status, you can't do much against a branch of a worldwide pseudo-government organization.

POUT-FACE LEVELS OF DISAPPOINTMENT. POUT-FACE LEVELS!!!

"Build me a fully functional professional TV studio."

"Uh...yeah...about that...we don't need to do anything, do we, Ono-"

"You're sitting in one."

"...What."

"You're currently sitting in one."

"Again I'll repeat: what."

Technically this would be copyright infringement, but putting aside that...if these children don't take off their uniforms and get into civilian clothes, the logo for the newscast might as well be Odd-Squad-branded. It's like criminals doing the news in orange jumpsuits. That's how you know they're criminals. With people dressed professionally...maybe they have a record, maybe they don't. You don't know.

Oh, this man scatting to the tune of the newscast's opening theme...bless him. It's so pure.

Good way to start a newscast! Completely deadpan and with a deadpan anchorman next to you.

By contrast, Miss Information was at least more animated.

(Also, if Miss Information is running evil BBC World News...does that mean Odd Squad's running good BBC World News? What's the difference? Who competes against BBC World News?)

Orwell. Child. You are supposed to be deadpan and stoic. What are you doing.

Clearly the writers did not need to stoop much lower to encapsulate the stupidity of adults, because any smart person would not be fooled by such an obvious mistake.

But Britain is, like Canada and America, full of idiots.

This goofy man.

That's it. That's the comment.

"Thank you for watching. Odd Squad is officially back in business!"

Given how much of "Bad Lemonade" this is copying...no. On so many levels, no. We got 7 minutes.

THIS GUY GOT A WHOLE-ASS STRAWBERRY BERET.

ALSO HI WHO ARE YOU?????????

...Ohhhhhh. So this is Sir Rup.

Honestly, that's a clever punny name. I can't fault them for that.

But also, he's the little brother of someone who pushes fake news? That's...I mean those are wildly different niches. But y'know, one woke up and chose violence and the other one woke up and chose food.

HOLD UP HER OFFICE IS ON THE FIRST FLOOR???????????????

Ohhhh rest in pieces to the days when it was on the second floor.

(Oprah's office was on a lower floor as the Big O too, and same goes for Orpita as the Little O. But this just looks like she shacked up in a closet with a window leading to nowhere.)

Okay, but see, the newscast contains no interviews. That would help in this situation instead of throwing out arbitrary numbers and "oh, we asked people". Citation needed, source?, call it what you like.

It's not as gut-busting hilarious as Oswald's girly scream, but Onom's similarly girly yelp got a laugh out of me all the same.

Y'know, Mayor Mackelmore was an idiot, but at least he somewhat knew his shit.

This guy sees one unsourced bar graph from a criminal and takes it at face value AND OH MY GOD THIS IS SOME THINLY-VEILED JAB AT SOME COUNTRY'S GOVERNMENT ISN'T IT. NOT EVEN JUST THE GOVERNMENT BUT EVERYONE IN THE DAMN COUNTRY. YOU SONS OF BITCHES. HALFWAY IN AND I'M JUST REALIZING THAT.

Orwell, no wink can save you from your dead personality on TV.

This is literally fucking Fake News: The Odd Squad Episode, and that's already a better title than making it an antagonist title.

Pure motherfucking social commentary. And while this is Britain, it very much applies for the whole of America.

A branch of a worldwide pseudo-government organization cannot just pack up and leave town like they bought a new house. Hope this helps!

(On to Part 2!)

[francesminos-tt]

Our actions, our regrets.

“What changed?” Daeron asked.

“Not your business, Uncle.” Joffrey snapped. Where did this boldness come suddenly? He had no idea. “What I want from you is obvious. The question is, what do you want from me?”

“Slow down, Dragon,” Daeron said. “I want to know. You looked like you wanted to punch me, and now you are here.”

Joffrey thought about telling Daeron everything, but why would he care? Daeron's family was one of the reasons for the disgrace of Joffrey's family. He never cared in all these years. “I decided my pride did not worth 300.000 dollars.”

“Get to the point. What can I do for you? Be mine, what does that mean? Do you wanna marry me?” Joffrey said. Daeron laughed humorlessly. He stopped and considered for a while.

“I want to fuck you. I want to have you.” Daeron said in a quiet voice.

“Fine. For how long?” Joffrey says through clenched teeth.

“A year.” “Half blood valerian, brown eyes, beautiful curls, nice body... Yes, a prostitute in your calibre would cost a thousand dollars a night. So, yes, roughly a year.”

Joffrey turned his gaze to the ground. He felt so humiliated and disgusted with himself.

"Look at me, nephew," said Daeron. Daeron dropped his hand to Joffrey's chest as their eyes met.

Daeron smiled. "I have two rules. Number one. Professional life and private life must be kept separate. Don't expect me to favor you because you're my nephew or my whore." He removed his hand from Joffrey's grip. "Rule number two: you don't disobey me."

Hi, anon! Following is my vision of their first time. Hope you enjoy it. It’s not betaed so I apologize for any mistakes!

When Joffrey stepped out of the bathroom in nothing but a nightgown, he shivered from the cold. The air-conditioner in the penthouse was in full force, making the temperature so low that goosebumps began to creep up Joffrey’s arms.

Daeron was nowhere to be seen. Joffrey bit his lower lip, his fingers tightening around the metal collar in his hand. Daeron had instructed him to take a shower and put the collar on after Joffrey showed up in the penthouse. Joffrey looked over his shoulder, taking a final look at the pile of clothes he left in the bathroom, shabby sweatshirt and a pair of baggy jeans. Joffrey knew there would be no turning back if he put the collar on. His identity, his dignity, his pride, would all be taken from him. He would truly become Daeron’s whore.

Joffrey shivered again. He closed his eyes for a moment before walking towards the study, where he could hear some faint keyboard sound from.

Compared to Joffrey’s near nakedness, Daeron was dressed handsomely. He was in his usual business attire, crisply ironed button-down shirt, light purple tie that matched his eyes and a pair of dragon cufflinks. He looked up from his laptop and frowned at Joffrey’s appearance.

“I told you to put the collar on.” Daeron said coldly.

Joffrey clenched the collar, the pointed metal heads embedding in his palm.

“What’s the No.2 rule we’ve agreed on?” Daeron leaned back in his chair, “If you are not willing to cooperate, I will have to deduct your payment today. Say, 100 dollars off.”

“It’s not fair!” Joffrey spoke for the first time tonight.

“200.” Daeron sneered, “One more word and it’s 300. Now put the collar on and get to work, Joffrey. The money won’t come by itself.”

Joffrey had no choice but to obey. He put the black leather around his neck clumsily, the sharp metal cutting open his finger, leaving a small red stain on the collar.

“Come.” Daeron let Joffrey settle between his legs as he cupped the brunette’s face in his palm, “Now, tell me, have you sucked cock before?”

Joffrey shook his head.

“Well, you will tonight.” Daeron pushed Joffrey’s face to his crotch, “Be good and warm my cock with your mouth when I am attending a conference call.”

A musky scent invaded Joffrey’s nostril. He was not lying; he had never sucked another man’s cock. Why would he? He was no whore. With trembling hands, Joffrey unzipped Daeron’s pants, taking out the blonde’s soft cock.

Daeron’s cock showed no sign of arousal, as if a naked Joffrey between his legs was not enough to arouse Daeron’s interest. Joffrey swallowed as he gently stroked Daeron’s cock a few times before taking it into his mouth.

Joffrey didn’t dare to suck immediately. He took some time to get used to the feeling of cock in his mouth, the softness of its tip brushing against the back of his throat. Daeron’s cock tasted like fresh shower gel and salty sweat. Joffrey had no idea what to do, so he just took a wild guess and ran his tongue over the tip of Daeron’s cock. That was what he would have liked if he was the one being blown.

Daeron said something to the headphone, something about a mis-calculated number in the cash flow statement. His voice was so calm that no one would have guessed that Daeron was having his cock sucked. Daeron kept one his hand on the back of Joffrey’s head, threading his fingers in the thick curls, scratching, tugging and rubbing, playing with Joffrey’s hair as if he was playing with a puppy.

Joffrey had no idea how much time had passed. He forced himself to concentrate on sucking, the only way to keep his mind present. He kept telling himself that he was no longer Joffrey, just a warm hole for Daeron’s cock.

“Enough.” Daeron ended the conference call and pushed Joffrey away, “You are a shit cock sucker, Joff. I am disappointed.”

Joffrey landed on his butt. He kept his head down, too ashamed to look up. He had made a fool of himself. His jaw was covered in drool and pre-cum, his lips swollen and his cheeks sore from all the sucking. Daeron’s cock dangled between his legs, half-hard and covered in Joffrey’s saliva.

“Speak.” Daeron demanded as he pulled Joffrey’s collar, forcing the brunette to look at him in the eye, “I didn’t hire a mute, did I?”

“I thought you didn’t want to hear me.” Joffrey replied, shameful tears threatening to slide down his cheek, “You said you would deduct 300 dollars from my payment if I said one more word.”

Daeron’s eyes narrowed, but he remained silent for a moment.

“Playing smart, are you?” Daeron pulled Joffrey up by his collar, before pinning the brunette on the pristine working desk, “Your mouth is hopeless. Let’s see if your other hole would be better.”

Joffrey let out a surprised squeal as Daeron flipped him over, spread his legs and pushed one finger in without warning. Joffrey’s breath caught from the sudden intrusion. Even though he had prepared himself as best as he could, the pain and the humiliation made him tremble miserably.

“You are loose.” Daeron observed, “Did you prepare yourself?”

“Y-yes.” Joffrey chocked, his legs shaking, the tears finally breaking free.

“How? Tell me.” Daeron pushed in another finger and began to scissor, his other hand pulling Joffrey’s collar, suffocating the poor brunette.

“I-in the shower, with my fingers,” Joffrey struggled to voice his words because the collar had become too tight around his neck, “a-and lube.”

Daeon laughed as he nibbled Joffrey’s pink ear. He soon replaced his fingers with his cock, finally in full arousal. Joffrey’s tears excited him, filling him with the satisfaction that he had conquered a strong-willed warrior.

“This hole is not too bad.” Daeron said before beginning to thrust.

Joffrey screamed in pain as his hole was stretched to its limit, Daeron’s cock invading him mercilessly, opening him up like an explorer discovering a new land. No matter how well he had prepared himself, it was still not enough. Daeron was too cruel, too demanding, too merciless that Joffrey wished he had never agreed to such arrangements.

Daeron kept fucking him with passion. Joffrey could do nothing but whine, submitting himself to Daeron completely. Joffrey heard some rustling sound before feeling something thin pressed on his back.

Joffrey tried to look back, but Daeron wouldn’t allow him. Fortunately, the pressure was gone as quickly as it had appeared. A piece of paper was pushed into Joffrey’s blurred vision.

“Here. Your check, Joffrey. Take it.”

Take it? How? Joffrey’s arms were twisted back, so he couldn’t use his hands. The only thing he could now was his mouth, still wet and swollen from the blow session. Joffrey realized soon enough that Daeron meant for him to take the check with his mouth.

Joffrey obeyed. He took the check between his teeth, careful not to stain it with the overflowing saliva.

“Good boy.” Daeron whispered in his ear.

[omegaremix]

Pandemic Blues (Spring).

When Dad passed away, I knew it was a new era. No more of his presence meant things would change on the inside and out, for better or worse. He almost had hit the U.S. average of male life expectancy by a pinch (78.54 years to his 78.19) so he’s had about his money’s worth. God couldn’t have cashed him out at a better time.

To start 2020, I took two weeks off from work for the first time in the six-plus years I’ve been with the company. I’ve met friends I haven’t seen in ages. I’ve abandoned non-successful projects in the name of self-care. I’ve re-wrote my diet for the better now that Dad wasn’t pumping me with free food ‘round the clock. I’ve also become the store champion in revenue for the year once again, and learned how not to get stress get the best of me. I had only one sunny day out of the twelve off in February which was extremely disappointing. As all you devils know, heading to New York City never leaves my mind. I promised myself that I’d make a visit to both Modern Pinball and Sunshine Laundromat, visits I’ve been waiting three years for. I came close. I did visit the city in early March for a check-up and visited Central Park as I called up my Godmother Laura to make Easter plans, leaving only after a half-an-hour when it started to get dark. By then I’d started to receive inklings of pending changes. The coronavirus was only in the back of my mind, and you normally don’t think of these things unless it pertains to you. I dialed up my aunt Theresa and she told me that the city schools and offices were contemplating closing down. I brushed it off like it was nothing, until…

It was a weekend at work like any other. A regular Sunday. Then it started. A customer asked me for nine mid-range laptops for himself and his co-workers to work from home. I sold them all to him. That’s a $3,100+ ticket. Another older man came in looking for five printers and ten monitors for his business. I could’ve hit the jackpot if only we had enough but we didn’t, but we piece-mealed whatever we could from other stores and that was another $1,500+. More customers and business owners came in to buy buy buy whatever they could to work at home with no limit and we now had a weekend clearance sale we never planned for. Every man and woman for themselves rushed in to save their jobs and tried grabbing whatever they can. When the weekend was over, they wiped us out of all our essential stock. Webcams, budget laptops, and monitors went clean off the shelves. We were fucking bewildered.

One outstanding memory I had of last year’s outbreak was seeing someone eye-ing over all-in-ones. After twenty minutes of no one asking him for assistance, I finally got him. He already had as much time under his belt deciding which way to go: Windows or Mac? He had lots of questions for me, and took me on a world tour of my own department to see which of three units he wanted to take home with him. Fine by me, because being in the presence of his brown-eyed peanut-butter haired daughter was all that mattered. Imagine Jessica Chastain in her late twenties and neck-length hair wearing a green St. Patrick’s Day shirt with a beige clover on it and blue jeans. Somewhat conservative and reserved but she was nice 100% all throughout. That’s more I could say than most people on the island or in my life I’ve met. An hour later, her dad finally decided on a high-end unit. “Wrap it up” he said. “Thank you for your time and purchase” I say, and it’d be the only time I would ever see her. Eventually, I noticed more customers coming in wearing masks. A different father-and-daughter pairing didn’t get it right wearing theirs under their chins, a half-assed way to at least fend themselves from the poison going on. Later on, two young female best-friends asked me for a Nintendo Switch. When they saw I had the Animal Crossing version, they suddenly asked for two more. Done. Knock yourselves out.

Within one week our store changed operations on a near-daily basis. We shortened our hours, then limited our total number of occupants to appointments only. By mid-week our store was closed to the public and it was all phone-orders and curbside pick-ups. Salespeople became impromptu warehouse and back-end runners. We couldn’t believe what we were experiencing. We were literally witnessing the slow gradual death of our traditional operating model. Corona- finally arrived and everyone was on edge not knowing what was coming next. Then we got the call from corporate: “all New York stores to be shut down indefinitely until further notice. Pack it up and go home. Expect a call from us in a few weeks”.

This was unreal! Our positions were in limbo. It felt like we were let go yet still employed otherwise. Meaning: furlough. We’d be fortunate enough to hold our titles and be kept on the payroll while we were mandated to stay home. Later as I learned, the ‘essentials’ as deemed, still had to work on through as a necessity to others; pegged to deal with the public who had no foresight as to how serious it would be. Before heading home indefinitely, I walked next door to the market. Never had I seen meat and paper shortages. Bare shelves of canned goods, frozen vegetables, pasta, and rice like the world was ending. There was no timetable for lockdown or how it’d last. I was now in competition with everyone else to stay alive. Count my high cards that an long-term food shortage was not the case.

27, 47, 81.

If only Dad would’ve lived long enough to see this unfold. He’d be forceful enough for me to stay home with him like some early exits from my location did. I can imagine that even if my bro- didn’t yell at him to stay home, Dad would say “hey, fuck you!” and drive out to see his friends. He literally fell of heart failure, and if that didn’t get him, would the -virus? Could he survive it with his expiring health and the spectre of death on impatient delay? Since Dad fed me almost daily, he’d feel very sad and broken if he couldn’t bring food home for me. He’s not here on this Earth anymore to do that, so it was time to change it up. The haunt of immuno-compromization had me thinking to cut the crap and go healthy.

245, 332, 417.

My ex- Yenny, the most cautious person in the world, sent me directions on how to make my own mask which I did out of old worn-out tees. Welcome to the new real dystopia. The first aesthetic of the pandemic was in the form of this makeshift cloth mask dampened with my own carbon-monoxide emanating the smell of damp stale cotton. Back to the neighborhood Chop N’ Drop I go. I stockpiled on fruits, vegetables, broth, anti-oxidants, juices, dark chocolates, nuts, and seltzer water. The moment of spending money on real food was the moment I started making real meals; the mixture of Idaho and sweet potatoes, celery, carrots, and vegetable broth aerated a distinct spring of fumes forever tied to these months in isolation. A daily carousel of apricots, oranges, cauliflower, tomatoes, and green peppers were a wonderful much-needed addition I had to have from now on. Visits to Bullseye had plenty of food, albeit the shelves were disorganized and the essential workers were overwhelmed. Idolatry was only steps away and to stock up on whatever non-perishables I could find, then threw them on the belt where the young silent Spanish girl who didn’t feel like being there was waiting for me at the register.

I noticed all around me that things were a little…different. Most of us were given things we never imagined. You’d never think of being home for months to have the opportunity to catch up on a life they once had no time for. People finally caught up on cleaning, pursing through personal belongings, old photos and memorabilia, reading lists and vinyl records that piled up. Imagine all the things said about not having to travel to work, or staying home to work, or not working at all. They were right. No such thing as stress. No managers shoving daily quotas or finding faults down your throat. No awkward moments, lack of courtesy, rudeness, or interruptions. No immature adults turning into bus-ride children competing for your attention or older women stamping their feet when being reminded of how out of line they were. It was total bliss.

486, 548, 753, 819. 

Most of us had all the time in the world to shit ourselves in our front-row seats for what we were seeing. It’s all happening next door in New York City, fatally crowned the epicenter of the worst pandemic of our lifetimes. We were The Death Nation. The deaths came at such an expedient rate that literal dead bodies were lined up outside the city’s funeral parlors. By then, restaurants closed. Businesses closed. Stadiums, theaters, arcades, bars closed. Schools and universities were canceled. Even Easter, the next social holiday in line…closed. The nation’s unemployment rate spiked high as 15% as people pounded on the doors on a broken system to have their unemployment benefits or loans in hand as soon as possible. No meta-game suffered distinctly than the music and venue industry. Artists, operators, and promoters had their livelihoods taken away from them in an instant; forced to make a living improvising on live-streaming. They just lost their selves overnight. Now, they held on tight for their own stability and sanity; hoping to reach for that brass ring while riding on a lagging carousel engulfed in flames. 

Over at WUSB, the show still had to go on. Our general manager disallowed any further staff to enter the studios. As most planned to live-stream from their homes, I opted to send my shows in. For the entirety of spring (and summer) I’d hand my shows in our engineer’s at-home automation for broadcast. Saturday 10:00PM Eastern Standard Time on the dot, no error. I had all the time in the world to post on Ω+, my portfolio VMFX, and get Our Lady Omega finally up to speed without worry of deadlines, distraction, or needless interruption. It was when I rifled through many auditions burning on the hard drive. Cleaners From Venus’ “The Jangling Man” couldn’t have come at a better time, signifying a cancelled Easter intended to be spent with my Godmother now at home. I never heard it ever but it yet it sounded familiar before. The cassette fidelities and a certain ‘89-’90 recorded feeling that took me back to my Nintendo youth becomes a new forever memory. Shoegaze and post-punk cuts such as Ing’s “Closet”, Milly’s “Talking Secret”, Es’ “Hidden Track”, and Miserable’s “Loverboy”, to name a few, have indisputably defined the pandemic era’s soul.

But enough of that for today. Down comes Mario, my five year-old nephew who’s yearning to play. Dad / Pop is no longer here, so it’s me he’s looking forward to seeing every day to try and win me on Uno or Candy Land while ginger-superior Madelaine Petsch / Cherry Blossom or Hayley Orrantia were on the flat-screen. We had nights where he’d chose a deck from my collection and we’d make separate piles out of suits. He’d play some good ones, too: the “Junior” of Hearts, the “Mom” of Diamonds, and the “Dad” of Spades he calls them. Aces were “sooper!” and the jokers had their own narrative: a clown on the unicycle was riding to 7-11 to get some Slurpees for us. (Once in a while, a horse-head or the word “MAVERICK” in cowboy caps- for those wild ones.) What kind of an imagination is this? And he loved Monopoly, too. We played so much that it inspired another aesthetic forever tied to the pandemic. Solid oranges and sky blues against the CRT’s, and Monopoly symbols of trains and utilities helped create sets of icons for a series of graphics templates I’ve made.

800, 814, 1036.

Red bottles with blue and red labels of now-discontinued blue liquid soap. Blocks of green and white cleanser cubes cased in plastic. Bulbs of blue and purple diffusing liquid. Cucumber sanitizer. They’re all symbols of cleanliness. All the time in the world posting, sound-editing, and layouts prove exhaustive at times. It’s 1AM Eastern Standard Time in New York City / Long Island and an open window allows the smoky cold chill of a 50°April breeze to vacate downstairs. It’s an invitation to step outside and admire the clear moonless skies. No clouds, only the stars above. I sit in my backyard to hear near-total silence emanating from the expressway. The asphalt rushes were a bare minimum because no one had a reason to travel. The utmost quiet was enough for the nostalgia to vacate right in. The cold, clear, quiet spring Saturday and Sunday nights spent with my Plainview circle of friends. We’d talk shit about everyone we knew, what our favorite Green Day, The Offspring, Collective Soul, or Nine Inch Nails songs were, and matching up with the alternative girls I never met before. The post-dinner April starlights spent shivering with Cath- off the busy Sunrise Highway admitting how much I missed her and how it felt when she succumbed to the heroin demon, the drives down random gas stations to save her ass, or the rare night rides from campus to take her home after my Wednesday radio stint. The temperatures also matched the experience of visiting Central Park for the very first time while an essential contact was in the back of my mind, her text asking how my day in New York City waited for me when I arrived home. It kills me that these are rare moments I’ll never have back. To this day that I’m still paying emotional interest on them.

142, 103, 101.

Rinse, repeat. For two months there was no place to go. No work shifts, classes, ballgames, weekend traffic, or Sunday dinners demarcating the days of the week. Saturdays were Tuesdays. Sundays were Mondays. No one ever humanly experienced a blur of time where every day was literally the same. Then a phone call. “Operations are re-opening. Be here Sunday and ready to start packing.” What my manager should’ve said to me: “be ready to be crucified”. I told myself it’s the last week of May. Three days to get back into it. The spoils of staying home from work once again with financial security and benefits intact will end. Slowly but surely things will pick up again. The floodgates will soon open and here come the entitled Karens, ugly kniving fishwives, dumbshit Tony’s From Brooklyn, and whatever unkempt messes who somehow still manage to breathe will tug my shirt for attention or see me as a whipping boy for their insignificant grievances I never asked for. 

If the quarantine made many lives a nerve-wracking unbearable hell for some people, then what happened next would be the breaking point: footage posted of Minneapolis police murdering George Floyd sent people into the streets in an outrage, and rightfully so. Short-Term Memory America didn’t learn and repeated their mistakes once again. No surprise there. The unnecessary needless precursory murders of Breonna Taylor and Armaud Arbury led up to the state’s latest nationwide collapse of unrest.

It took the latest event of racism and murder for everyone to finally come outside since the start of the pandemic and show what they were hiding for the longest time. Frustrated adult-male mouth-breathers acting out like total jerkoffs throwing their childish ignorance and building blocks in more reasonable mature people’s faces, and unattractive vanilla pig females turned into cartoon versions of themselves as they yapped multitudes of n-bombs and were damn proud of it. Cutting noses and spiting their own faces; doing whatever it takes at all costs to preserve their personal right and false constructs in treating people-of-color like garbage. Bulletin-board bruisers and ultimate keyboard warriors finally brought it out for all of the world to see. Others, however, had enough of their friends, family, co-workers, and fellow human beings being shot, beaten, or killed based on the color of their skin. They came to protest, picket, fight in the streets, and set it all in flames because enough was enough…enough of a corrupt racist celebrity president who’s done absolutely nothing except write off white supremacists and dismissed the coronavirus as a hoax. It all came down to this after living in an irrational anything-goes backwards presidency, all because the Fascist-in-chief cared for no one but himself, his family, and those who pledged their allegiance to him.

If the last four years provided us some out-of-this-world ridiculousness, what else would’ve been possible? We’ve experienced a hell like no other. We genuinely lived in fear that we could reach the point of no return. No one had any idea what was in store for us or how bad it could’ve been; during an election year, nonetheless. 

Where I’m heading is another story. I drive home down Rt. 25 and there are clusters picketing on the side of the road. One supporting Black Lives Matter, one for Tr*mp 2020. Summer’s on her way and the new heat was here; the allegory of pent-up frustration and emotion which everyone was feeling exacerbated by the pandemic. The possibilities were spring-loaded in the back of my mind and made me on edge, not knowing what could happen. 

All I, and us, could think about was when this would all end, and when we could go back to life as we knew it. We were holding out on all hope that something had to give. When will we be open for business again? When would be all go back to what it used to be, or what would ‘the new normal’ be? Will we change course and advert a national crisis, or will be dig ourselves a totalitarian grave so deep we won’t crawl out of? Will we have reason, rationality, science, humanity, and common sense back again, or will we have hatred, nastiness, cruelty, and contempt kept in place for tradition’s sake and have it rammed down our throats until we die sick of it?

It was the three most surreal months of my life. True uncharted territory; no map, no compass. And Spring wasn’t even over. Not just yet. As everything was unfolding and unraveling, something else was headed my way. A season that was anything but normal was going to end on an even more bizarre and curious note. Not in the form of more shutdowns, sickness, emptiness, or despair; but of someone who reached out to me.

(To be continued.)

Cleaners From Venus “The Jangling Man”

Damp “Death, Sex & Arby’s”

Ing “Dust”

Crumb “Ghostride”

Future Islands “Day Glow Fire”

Lisel “Digital Light Field”

Milly “Talking Secret”

Stardeath & White Dwarfs “What Keeps You At Night”

Miserable “Loverboy”

Districts “Cheap Regrets”

Snarls “Walk In The Woods”

Es “Hidden Track”

Strobobean “Keep It Together”

Katie Tempest “People’s Faces”

Penelope Isles “Round”

Shopping “All Or Nothing”

[kurumeki]

Boris 5/23 @Proxima, Warsaw

Last time I saw Boris live was in December 2019 and that was also the first Japanese band I had the chance too see since pandemic started. Needless to say – I was very excited about the gig. I didn’t plan on it, but for some reason I entered the venue first (I’ve never had a ticket number that would be A1 in Japan), and despite running to merch stand first, I still managed to secure a spot in first row, right in front of mic stand. Which is exactly where I wanted to be, knowing that for this tour Atsuo is not playing drums, but being strictly band’s frontman and doing vocals.

Merch wise – I was pretty upset when their staff told me that caps didn’t make it on time for the gig. I really wanted to buy one with Amplifier Worship Service, guess I will have to order it online from their EU store. But I got other items I really wanted – the tour t-shirt with the leopard (love love love the design), I got a patch for my battle vest, pins, stickers (because I also need my laptop to look sick with those) and then I decided to buy a polaroid with the whole band and their autographs; I recall this is pretty rare stuff to buy (price wasn’t that bad? It was 100 PLN per polaroid, I think that’s fair).

Boris is known for bringing less known Japanese bands on tours with them, so support for this part of their European tour was 明日の叙景 (Asunojokei) – fairly new band playing post black metal. I’m not that much into this type of music, but their show was good; I was especially impressed with the vocalist and his general vibe. At the end of their set I snatched the setlist, so I can listen to the exact set later.

Pic from 明日の叙景; it was so easy to spot myself but of course they picked one where my eyes are closed. Oh well.

When time came for Boris, I was so ready. In 2020 they released album NO and that was like my favourite record from that year, it’s so heavy and energetic, I was hoping they would go on tour with this stuff and guess what – it was happening! They played mostly songs from the mentioned NO but also from Heavy Rocks released in 2022 (on my birthday, to be exact! August 12th). I think that’s a perfect super heavy mix. Knowing what to expect, I was preparing myself mentally for their show, but jesus fucking christ – it was so much better than in my imagination.

First of all, being in front row, it wasn’t difficult to get Atsuo’s attention. Guess me willing to give the band my all, to headbang until my neck cracks, to scream their lyrics didn’t go unnoticed. With Atsuo stepping onto the podium in front of the barriers, I didn’t expect anything less than him taking my hand a couple of times; during another song he was having an emotional moment and he fucking cradled my face with his hand, that caught me so off guard but I mean – no complaints. For Fundamental Error I really did my best with singing along and Atsuo fucking held the mic to my lips during chorus. That was well. Also unexpected, but if he wants you to do shit, you just do it. Do I fall for this type of interactions with audience? Absolutely! At the end my efforts were rewarded – for the last song Muchio, the support drummer, left the stage and Atsuo finally sat behind drums. He used the gong behind him (as usual) and poured his heart out on drums when they played Farewell; and as the song and the show finished, he got both of his Pearl gong mallets and gave one to me and the second one to a woman next to me that really was competing for attention.

Some other highlights from the set – I loved their black outfits, I was really fascinated with Wata’s heels, her shoes looked so cool. And while I love watching her absolutely kill it with her vintage Les Pauls, my eyes were drifting to Takeshi (when I was not looking at Atsuo, which was 90% of the time). The double neck bass/electric guitar just looks so fucking cool when he’s playing it and he has got some amazing moves. I was so so sooo happy I got to hear (and sing!) Kikinoue live, that was my dream ever since I heard this song for the first time. Nosferatou was also amazing live, I love how their slow drone tracks feel like being wrapped in a warm blanket of sound. I sure am glad I wore earplugs to the gig, I think I would have not survived in the first row if not that.

Below's the setlist. Encore was Farewell, as mentioned.

After the show I did something that I’ve not done before – decided to wait outside the club for band to come out, because I really needed to talk to Atsuo. I have hinted it a few times already in my posts, but basically on the fanclub platform I’ve asked Morrie if he’d like to go on tour with Boris as their support, to which Morrie very enthustically said that he would love to and he is simply waiting for invitation. Knowing that I could get a chance to talk to Boris about it, how could I not at least try? Also – I’ve made a connection recently, befriending a guy that knows both Morrie and Atsuo privately; the guy and myself really get along and upon hearing that I’m going to Boris show in Warsaw, he decided to text Atsuo and let him know I’d be there.

The wait outside of venue was almost an hour and I almost gave up (not because it was cold; I was just tired after two shows), but then they came out! I nearly ran to them, not risking I miss a chance to speak to them. One good thing about me is that I’m stupid brave, which means that if I get a chance to talk to a musician, then no matter how anxious and silly I feel, I will fucking do it. So I just came over to Atsuo, being full on „hey, do you have a minute? Our mutual friend K-san was telling you about me, I think”. It was so worth to wait for an hour on the back of the club to see Atsuo’s face light up with „oh right! You’re Cherry, nice to meet you”. (DEAD ON THE SPOT!) I passed him the message from Morrie, he laughed about that enthusiasm. We chatted just for a minute or two more and when I was already bowing and wishing them a safe travels for the rest of the tour, Atsuo was like „don’t you want a picture? Come on!” and suddenly we were taking the group shot. That was not on my bingo card for the night. Did I crop the pic from my own instagram? Hell yes, I am a lazy goblin.

It’s safe to say it was easily the best Boris show I’ve been to and I am just already impatiently waiting for them to come back for a show (but this time with Morrie! Come on…).

[blakbonnet]

I was tagged by Jams @not-nervous-jester to share my writing process so here you go, I'm sorry but this will get a bit long and it'll not be proofread cause life's too short (and my laptop has 4% battery left) 🙃

Do you write in order?

Yes and No. I start off any writing project (whether it be fanfic or work) with a detailed outline of the major plot points. I do the endings first more often than not when I'm planning a fic, then the middle, and finally, once those are out of the way, then I'll tackle the beginning kinda.

Because I write like a person possessed, the beginnings sort of just happen on their own but I need a guideline for hitting the major points or it will be all out of whack.

How fully formed does your writing come out the first try?

About 100%. Because I am so incredibly stupid and anal about this stuff, my first try is essentially a weighty tome of garbage. You can only throw out the garbage once I'm done, you can't add more to it. I guess this analogy doesn't work but it works in terms of the ✨ vibe ✨ I'm trying to create, stay with me people!

How many drafts do you go through?

Just one actually. If there is stuff in the first draft that I am not okay with, I will stop writing and simply leave it for a week or a month until I feel like picking it up again later 😐 The only time I actually create a new draft is when parts of the original are unreadable. Actually I'm lying, I just add stuff to the first draft while whistling and being inconspicuous.

Tell me about your process.

First comes the playlist. It HAS to start with a playlist. Every project has a separate playlist. Songs can be repeated, playlists cannot be the same though. It's a thing, and if I don't do it, it'll be a whole separate thing tbh.

The playlist has to be instrumental, it has to be mainly cellos and violins for the meatier scenes, piano is okay for the fluffy non-plot filler bits that I'm writing for my own entertainment. There can be no words or bits of the fic will turn into a Metallica song, I'll be sued, I'll lose everything and most importantly, the fic would never be finished.

Next comes the poetry, stuff that is actually inspiring the work and pushing it forward. That usually goes in tumblr drafts so it's easier for me to access from my phone. This is usually screenshots from e-books or actual pictures from physical books.

Because I do a fairly detailed outline beforehand, I usually start writing the beginning because that's what I haven't planned out yet and am most excited by. This takes me the longest amount of time and I also do a LOT of rewriting at this stage because personally, as a reader, I do abandon a lot of fics if the beginning isn't doing it for me.

I use google sheets cause I'll sometimes reread my stuff over the phone but I only ever write on the laptop, my phone is mainly for rereading and obsessing.

I also edit as I go along based on feel and make notes where I need to add stuff. If I edit later once I'm done, it usually doesn't come out like I want it to.

Once chapters are done, I copy paste them into Google Translate so I can hear them being read back to me. I catch a record number of missed typos and errors this way. I'm very conscious of the way I write dialogues because I'm so nitpicky when I'm reading other people's dialogues and this also allows me to correct issues with those (the "he would never fucking say it like that" errors)

After the first couple chapters, I'll share the google doc with mutuals and friends (mostly Ara @stedebonnets ) and I don't have a beta reader. Plot points I'll discuss with Josh and Joy 😭 and I don't publish fics on ao3 until the entire thing is written cause I'm a big stinking fic abandoner lmao (smauglock fic from 5 years ago rip 🪦 sorry readers)

This is the writing process that went into Need for Stede ✌️which was incredibly fun to write!

I'd like to tag @wearfinethingsalltoowell @abigailpents @talkstoself @red-sky-in-mourning @ratchet @stedebonnit and anyone else who wants to do this!

[sarasa-cat]

Today: one win, one lose. A lot of hours wasted. Oh well.

(What was I expecting ordering a bargain basement posh product from Amazon Basics?)

The win was actually a trip win: My body feels almost back to normal. I woke up before my alarm at a pleasant hour — not too early, not whoooa oh too late. Banged out 4400 words of text at record speed (loving this clickity clackity mechanical keyboard lololol) that helps orient/reorient a major writing project. Well, technically, TWO (2) writing projects.

The lose that wasted so many hours of time? So, I have this Cintiq pro that is small — only a 16” one — which is extremely light weight. Like, 4 lbs 4 oz, maybe? Something like that, it’s been a week since I looked at its specs.

It is really really really REALLY REALLY difficult to find a vesa-plate monitor arm thinger with the specs and positional flexibility I need that is capable of holding something lighter than 7 or 8 lbs. THE PROBLEM.

Eventually someone on reddit claimed that they had luck with an amazon basics product that is essentially a reworked Ergotron arm. And it is only US$100. So, fine. Ordered. Waited for it to arrive. Set it up. AND despite the thousands of reviews with a 4.5 star rating, THE FUCKING THING DID NOT WORK.

Well, so I searched 1 star reviews and it seems there is a quality control issue with this product and lots of people end up with an arm that is all locked up (stuck and not fixable) for all of the joints that move in various directions near the vesa plate. after hours of fucking with it — bc the screws it came with didn’t fit so I needed to get different (shorter) screws for my cintiq — I confirmed that I indeed had one of these zero quality control fuckers. You cannot tilt the monitor (cintiq in this case) left or right or up or down. The mechanism the vesa plate is attached to points up to the ceiling 5evah. Which makes it useless for a normal monitor. For a cintiq I can get the lever arm to drop the whole thing into my lap but that is NOT ergonomic. BAD FOR THE NECK! And hard to draw from the shoulder.

Back in the box, processed a return. Risking a replacement but if that one is also a bust I’m giving up on this and back to the drawing board.

Honestly, I am this close to saying ARRRRGGG and purchasing a big fucker cintiq with cintiq’s mounting system and either selling my 16 or using it for travel because it is really very laptop sized and portable and can be used in one’s lap (which is what most people used it for, at least prior to the pandemic). But for ergonomic reasons I need something on a mount that I can swivel around and tilt and move based on how my body feels.

I just don’t spend enough hours per week in digital land to make me feel justified purchasing the big fucker from cintiq but I cannot afford to be taking off 2, 3, or even 6 to 12 months at a time to let shoulder RSI (yes, my fucking shoulder. The final year at daygig destroyed it. When it was at its worst I really did need 9 months of time off to get it workable.)

But also, I don’t spend much time in digital land for my art process BECAUSE I cannot do it comfortably and ergonomically given my set up and/or equipment.

So fuck.

All that said, once I get a highly ergonomic situation going for digital art, I suspect I will switch a lot more of my process to digital. Tbd. I just don’t know.

I need a new shoulder. Honestly, it hurts right now from all of the fucking around with nonsense that did not solve my problem and it did not hurt this morning or all of the past month.

Who needs a bank account with savings in it. (Yes, I am self employed so I cannot ask boss for ok and expense this to some corporation but instead must fuck around every spring with annual taxes to sort the nonsense out)

[splintered-emotions]

I posted 10,596 times in 2022

That's 8,343 more posts than 2021!

51 posts created (0%)

10,545 posts reblogged (100%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@/dingdongyouarewrong

@beenovel

@shurisneakers

@merisscatteredbooknook

@blueberryrock

I tagged 3,883 of my posts in 2022

#star wars - 447 posts

#that fanart tho - 395 posts

#marvel - 365 posts

#dsmp - 336 posts

#words - 236 posts

#lotr - 219 posts

#tiktok - 185 posts

#stranger things - 183 posts

#amazing art - 143 posts

#fic rec - 115 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#and the admin wouldn’t fucking switch them out of that class despite the toll it was taking on their mental health free time and other class

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

French Onion, Broccoli Cheddar, and Pho soup :)

French Onion - Who is your favorite author(s)?

there's honestly so many so i'm just gonna name a few:

@jackdaw-kraai with his wonderful Guides

@irndad and the tasm!peter fics

@yellow-feathered-faerie who i really must work on that Mandis fic with eventually

chancecraz on ao3 and their time travel star wars fics

and of course, you

Broccoli Cheddar - What was your inspiration for this wip

this is honestly an odd inspiration but i had an absolutely terrible math teacher last year who used to give the most difficult tests and during winter break, while i was cramming for the 3 tests we had in the three weeks after it, i convinced my mom to rewatch the hobbit with me, and a few days later, at like 1 in the morning, i just started typing up Transported and here we are

Pho - Describe your ideal writing set up

i think i'd have to say like music (probably The Amazing Devil because it makes my brain go brr) playing in the background, my laptop charged and not trying to burst into flames, discord open on the side to share snippets and just talk, and me actually having the time to sit down and write without any interruptions

13 notes - Posted January 5, 2022

#4

Hello! If Lotr/The Hobbit requests are open, I hope it's alright that I request one ;-;

Could you please do something about a Reader who was Merry and Pippin's best friend when they were really little kids but they left Middle Earth somehow. But now that they're adults, she gets back to the Shire and now she's a kickass blacksmith who is still really witty and comforting with them and it's a really sweet and wholesome reunion? You can either do Polyamory or Merry x Reader if that's not your thing. I think Merry would be the most likely to get a crush on a human blacksmith reader with big muscles because he strikes me as the kinda guy who'd like Tomboys

I also have this hilarious idea of, since the Reader is human, Pippin finds out that she became an adult at 18 and he's so jealous because she's officially an adult and he's not lmao. Thanks so so much, I hope you're doing well hun! Keep being awesome!!

okay i finally finished it! this may have taken a slightly different route than you were expecting but i hope you like it regardless!

As I looked upon them for the first time in what seemed like a decade, our time spent together in my childhood and their tweens came rushing back, almost flashing before my eyes. The summers spent stealing from Old Farmer Maggot and hanging out at various hobbit parties that I clearly wasn’t invited to were reminiscent of a much different time.

It had been prior to I had been apprenticed to the only blacksmith near Hobbiton and Merry was forced off to visit some relatives or another for months on end, leaving us with no time to see each other, let alone act upon the last things that we said to each other. Although it sometimes seemed like it had been just yesterday when our relationship began to split from the almost something that it had become, but given the new signs of maturity on his face and the burn scars on my hands, it was clear it had been far longer than either of us expected.

Pippin stood next to his cousin, looking between the two of us as we refused to say anything while we took in the differences in each other’s appearance. I had certainly changed far more than Merry, given the fact that blacksmithing required a lot of strength, far more than I had had last time I had seen either of them. The buff female blacksmith had very little similarities to the teenage girl that had never worked a day in her life.

I suppose if I had known how much muscle I would have to build up to truly become good at making even the simple things that hobbits nearby required, I would have thought twice before deciding on this. But now wasn’t the time to rethink the decisions that I had made for my life. Now, I needed to figure out how to begin a conversation with a figure from my not too distant past.

“So,” I said, not entirely thinking through the rest of my sentence just yet. “Have fun with the Tooks?” Oh fuck that was terrible. I was a fool and I would never speak again.

“Yes.” Thank the Valar, he was just as awkward as I was. “And how is your apprenticeship going?”

I could almost see the wince as he finished speaking. We had to break this ridiculous tension somehow. There had to be some way to talk beyond just standing here awkwardly as Pippin looked on. “I kinda finished that a couple summers ago. My master passed on the shop to me once I was done and left to apparently go adventuring. Imagine a 60 year old man going across Arda in search of adventure. Although I suppose with Bilbo, you don’t really have to.”

He seemed more at ease with this topic, immediately replying, “I’m not convinced he truly went. The Mad Baggins was apparently quite tame before he left the Shire.”

“I don’t believe that. That pipeweed smoking hobbit would have jumped at the chance to do it. Although his stories did speak of some hesitation.”

“A Took could never pass up the chance,” interjected Pippin. “I guarantee that any one of our cousins would enjoy it.”

“But Bilbo isn’t a Took. He���s a Baggins. Baggins never do things like that,” stated Merry.

“I thought he was half Took. So there would have been an equal chance of doing it.” I took a breath before saying, “Either way, I assume you didn’t come here to discuss whether or not BIlbo actually bested Smaug, chiefest and greatest of calamities. What did you need?”

The sudden change in topic seemed to lower the energy in the room, but I could see Lobelia Sackville Baggins coming closer so I needed it to look like I was running a “proper establishment” before she decided to enter. This decision wasn’t driven by a sense of urgency, but rather an urge to escape a lecture before she hands me her frying pan to be fixed again after banging on Bilbo’s door again for an hour.

Pippin started, “Oh! I believe that—”

“Frodo asked us to stop by to inquire after a frying pan that was sent to be mended a few days ago. Would you perhaps have it currently ready?” That was oddly stiff in its phrasing. Did he think I was trying to get him out of the shop? Or did he know that Lobelia, the bane of my existence, was approaching?

“I think it’s back here somewhere. Although I think I need another day to fully work on it.” Okay, this was my chance. I could ask. After years of not seeing him, we could finally have a chance at what we had both wanted. “I needed to take a couple days off for my birthday a week ago and the new responsibilities that have been dumped on me have been ridiculous. They don’t tell you that when you legally become an adult, but anyways, I could meet up with you sometime tomorrow to drop it off. If you wanted to do so of course.”

“Sure, but—”

“You’re an adult?” Pippin asked. “But I’m older than you and I’m still a tween.”

“You’d hate being an adult. You have to do taxes and stuff and you can’t just spend the entire day hanging out with friends.”

“Yes, but it’s about the principle of the matter. I am 5 years older than you and yet I’m not even of age.”

“That’s your loss for being born a hobbit. I however can do adult things and buy a pint without my cousin chaperoning me.”

“Regardless,” Merry interjected. “I believe that I shall be free at around noon tomorrow, so would you like to meet under the party tree?”

“Uh, yes of course. I’ll have it done by tomorrow. As long as Lobelia doesn’t have anything new to bring me.”

“Good then. Well I suppose we shall continue this fruitful discussion tomorrow.” At Pippin’s newly open mouth, he continued, “Alone.”

“Yes. Now shoo. She’s coming in and I don’t want to have to pretend like I’m just a blacksmith in front of you too.”

“We will be back!”

See the full post

21 notes - Posted January 31, 2022

#3

i fucking watched the new doctor strange movie and i'm so close to just rambling about the bits of marvel that i hate and the reasons why

24 notes - Posted May 17, 2022

#2

Can I get “that dance, that they did today? it kinda reminded me of when we…” with a pairing of you choice 🥺?

Also makes sure to eat and drink water 🔫

okay so this ended up being a tasm!peter parker x gn!reader fic because i had an Idea so here. also it's kinda implied desi!reader, but it can really be read any way.

also you better do the same 🔫

the link to the dance which i mention is here

Finals were over. My bed was calling my name as I walked back from the horrid chem exam that had caused far too many all-nighteres in an attempt to memorize all of the ions and their charges as well as the formulas that we had learnt only a couple weeks ago.

But now, I could sleep for as long as I wanted until I had to start packing everything. Which was not until tomorrow because the dorms were supposed to be cleared out by next Friday. That left at least 18 hours that I could use to conk out if I wanted to wake up by about 9am tomorrow.

Unfortunately, or perhaps very fortunately, my plan was thrown away as soon as I saw Peter sitting on the stairs in front of the building, playing on his phone. “Did your ethics final finish up early? I thought you were supposed to be out by 4 at the earliest.”

“Kenobi cancelled it. Something about his nephew getting sick.”

“Well that leaves plenty of time for our must watch movie marathon we had planned a couple weeks ago.”

“Wasn’t that supposed to be during packing? So then if it gets far too cheesy, we could distract ourselves with loading up some of the boxes?”

“Yes, but I found out one of the ones I used to watch with my friends recently came back onto Netflix. And because I couldn’t find it literally anywhere else without having to pay an extravagant amount of money for one movie, we’re going to enjoy the experience of this movie without the need for literally anything else. Other than snacks.”

“Of course we would have snacks. Why was that ever in question?”

“With your appetite, it never should be.”

“Hey, you know that’s because of the spider bite.”

“Like you didn’t come over to my house and eat half of my snacks alongside your own when we were in middle school.”

“Well, sixth period P.E. for all three years causes a person to get a bit hungry after school.”

“And that doesn’t explain the time that we went to Build-A-Bear and you told me you wanted to eat a bear.”

“That was something I told you in confidence and something that I didn’t expect you to almost yell in front of your dorm.”

“Everyone deserves to know that you looked at a Gollum plushie and went, ‘That looks like it would be a good snack.’” “Were you like this before your chem final?” he asked. “Because I could have sworn the person I fell asleep next to was not out to kill me.”

“I was a different person then,” I stated while leading him into the building. “I cannot be expected to treat someone who decided to sit out here in 90 degree heat for 3 hours while I took my final nicely.”

He gasped dramatically, playing it up despite the fact that some of my neighbors were coming out to see what havoc we were causing today. “I have helped you study for countless tests and quizzes and even stayed up with you until 4am last night and this is how I am thanked? I shudder to call myself your boyfriend with such poor treatment.”

The Bridgerton marathon shortly before finals kicked into full swing seemed to have done something to him. But honestly, as long as we didn’t get another complaint regarding our arguments prior to the time that we made it upstairs, it would be fine. “And what do you say to the hours that I spent reviewing vocabulary with you for a final you didn’t even take?”

“I thought I had the final until I went to Kenobi’s room and saw the note posted on his door. And when I went to text you, I saw that your final had already started and decided against trying to distract you.”

“Well you should have distracted me anyways. Why wouldn’t I have wanted a text from you? After all, it wasn’t like that final was particularly important, I would have passed the class either way. Plus, you’re far more important than some stupid chem final that is only vaguely relevant to my degree.”

“I’m sure Windu would agree with that assessment.”

“Windu has a stick up his ass. Which I can finally say in front of other people because I’m finally out of that fucking class.” It still hadn’t entirely hit me that the school year was finally over, but the fact that I could hang out with Peter without needing to study or work on a project was beginning to cement it.

“True. I’m not looking forward to when I have to take him next year for organic.” He took a second before continuing, “Are we ever going to unlock your door or are you planning on watching it out here?”

“Right, that. I barely even noticed that we were here.” Which was surprising, however, this could easily be blamed on the sleep deprivation and the Peter’s distracting presence.

See the full post

27 notes - Posted June 1, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

so why is my heart broke?

tasm!peter parker x reader

warnings: angst, cursing (as always), and i think that's it

summary: you almost got hurt because of a fight between Spider-Man and the villain of the week. now Peter's trying to stop it from happening again

“I’m breaking up with you.”

“What?”

“I can’t keep putting you in danger like this,” Peter said.

“That doesn’t mean you break up with me, you dumbass.” You took a look at his face before continuing. “Oh, you’re serious.”

“Of course, I’m serious. I can’t see you get hurt again and again because I’m Spider-Man.”

“I get hurt once because I was somewhere the fight got to, and somehow this is what it results in? No, Peter, I refuse.”

“You can’t refuse,” he states, albeit with some confusion. “I’m breaking up with you.”

“Peter Motherfucker Parker, I refuse to let you break up with me.”

“I refuse to let you refuse to let me break up with you.”

“I wasn’t even involved in the fight before the villain of the week fucking crashed into the cafe I was picking up coffee from. How could this have resulted from you being Spider-Man? If anyone else was fighting them, the same thing would have happened.”

“Everyone who I have loved while being Spider-Man has been hurt by this, and I refuse to let you be a victim of the Parker curse.”

“I will stay right here beside you to show you that there is no such thing. There is simply the fact that I love you Peter Parker, and I will not leave your side.”

“And it is because of that that I can’t let you stay. I can’t see you get hurt.”

“Well this is hurting me. I’m in love with you and you just want me to leave? I can’t Peter. I can’t see you getting banged up on TV and know that I can’t do anything to help. I can’t leave you.”

“But you should.”

“When has that ever decided what I was going to do? What we were going to do? Fuck what I should do,” I exclaimed.

“I can’t lose you. No matter how much this would hurt both of us, it would never compare to the pain of losing you.”

“And the same applies to you. Do you think I would be okay knowing that you had, that you had died out there, fighting an alien or some shit? I can barely handle the idea of breaking up with you and yet you want me to live knowing that you are out there risking your life every day without anyone on your side? No one there to patch you up when you get hurt? No one who knows what you’re going through every time you show up with bruises and cuts?”

“And what would happen to me if you weren’t there because of me? Because I can’t live without knowing that you were safe. No matter how difficult it is to leave you, there’s no option here where you’re safe. There’s never been one as soon as you chose me.”

“And I’m going to keep choosing you. I am always going to choose you, Peter. Despite all the dangers and slightly insane ideas, I love you.”

That seemed to cause the last remaining bits of fight left in him to dissipate. “I love you too. Despite your stubbornness.”

“Hey, I think that it’s warranted right now. You were about to lose the best thing in your life because you got scared of something that wasn’t your fault. Someone had to do something about it,” You retorted.

“I’m glad someone did.”

108 notes - Posted April 9, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[oh-a-very-toxic-octopus]

Seeing a few people blitzing the answers like this and decided to have a go too!

1. What was the first piece of furniture you bought?

A leather sofa and armchair we bought from a charity shop for £25. We thought they were black leather, but as we walked the sofa outside and into the sunshine, it became undeniably green. For £25, though, who can complain?

2. What proportion of your meals do you cook?

Probably 90% at the moment. Jim likes cooking more than I do, but he's in his final year at uni and has been flat-out on his project. I have a decent rotation of doable meals going now, and he volunteers to chop veg/roll fajitas/make gravy, which keeps me p calm in the kitchen. (I have not always been calm in the kitchen.)

3. Foaming hand soap or normal hand soap?

Normal. Bar soap is the way.

4. Favorite chore?

In summer, laundry. There are a few factors here:

I am deeply invested in the well-being of the fancy Samsung washing machine I splurged on when we first moved here and enjoy keeping it clean and efficient.

I hate clothes shopping and waste, so I want to look after my kit and make it last forever. FOREVER.

I am very finicky about the texture of my clothes, towels and bedding and want to get them Just Right.

I am just as finicky about smells, with added backstory: when I worked retail, I only had one uniform and had to wash it too regularly to line-dry it, so for ages I relied on a tumble-dryer and smelled depressingly of rubber, while one of my colleagues was always wafting about smelling clean and lovely. For a long time, smelling good was my one goal in life. And now it has been achieved. I am a successful adult and I smell of line-dried Persil.

I enjoy the excuse to go outside and stand in the sunshine patting my line-drying clothes, eyy.

In winter I want to die, obviously, but cooking (from my limited set menu) is probably top. Prepping a good dinner sometimes breaks the SAD fog.

5. Least favorite chore?

Cleaning the fucking toilet.

6. Most precious thing one of your pets has destroyed?

I have blanked this from my memory for my own good. One time I woke up and my late cat, Spider, was humping the absolute shit out of my cello, though.

7. Any groceries you've been getting into lately?

Sweet potato fries. Also this fancy salmon en croute that cooks in half an hour and bubbles up immaculately.

8. What cleaning product do you swear by?

Ehhh. I was a vinegar stan for a while. Now it's basically antibacterial spray for general grime, washing up liquid for grease, bleach for nasties, vinegar for mould and mildew. I have an emotional support bottle of Cillit Bang that I occasionally use on the bathroom.

9. What's your emotional support craft?

I don't really craft. I doodle a fair bit and write sometimes.

10. Youtube, cable TV, or streaming?

Streaming. Netflix and Prime, plus sneaky access to Jim's parents' Sky subscription.

11. What's something you saved up for and then regretted buying?

Oh fuck me, so many things. I hate buying anything. Buying things sucks.

Off the top of my head: a wool trenchcoat, leather boots, clothes in general. I have a Gtech Multi hoover that cost way more than my little Makita stick and is infinitely less useful, too. I'm not 100% sold on my current laptop, either. Should've fixed my desktop instead.

12. How many cups can you see from where you're sitting?

None, but only because I tidied up three before sitting down.

13. Which filter are you most likely to go "eh, it's probably fine" when you find out you need to change it?

My shop vac is currently filterless. I just stuck some old t-shirts in there. Basically the same thing.

I hand-wash most foam filters for as long as I possibly can tbh.

14. How often do you take baths?

Never. I do not own a bath and I'm grossed out by the idea of using one in a hotel.

15. Do you go down each aisle when you grocery shop, or only the ones you know you need stuff from?

I do my grocery shopping online with home delivery. This means that when I have to shop in person I am perpetually lost and must wander the labyrinth for several hours.

16. Where do you go when you need to get out of the house but it's raining?

If it's raining and I don't have a pressing reason to go outside, I will not go out.

17. What's a movie you saw recently that you liked?

The Children of Men.

18. Pro or anti tchotchkes?

Had to Google this word (it is an incredible word, btw) but it was worth it to know I am anti, so anti, in every single case save for my growing army of dried bug skins. These alone may clutter my shelves. These and a few pottery dragons. And a wooden dragon. And some tiny porcelain cats. And a lot of books I will never reread. A few framed art prints. Uhh.

19. What's your go-to tape?

Electrical. I make the case: nice block colours, good stretch, snaps off the roll easily, holds together your indicator relay when you crash.

20. What's in your freezer right now?

It's rammed, honestly. I've got batches of roast potatoes, mashed potatoes and Dauphinoise potato; some stuffing balls I batch-rolled; curry sauces; bread sauce; Moroccan lamb meatballs; Swedish meatballs and gravy; minced beef; minced lamb; fish fingers; four tempura battered fish fillets; Jim's stash of Higgidy Pies; sweetcorn; peas; two pepperoni pizzas; three garlic flatbreads; sweet potato fries; hash browns; two apple strudels; onion rings; breaded mushrooms; and battered chicken nuggets. I'm sure there's more but I CBA to get up and check.

21. Last concert you attended?

Uhhhh, the Taste of Chaos tour — Disturbed, Halestorm and Papa Roach — in 2011. 💀 We almost went to Download this year, but given the mudfest it became, I'm okay with having missed it.

22. Favorite grocery store?

I'm a Tesco native but I heckin love M&S, just walking around looking at their fancy food.

23. Paper bags, plastic bags, or reusable bags?

I like Hessian reusable bags the most. In reality, I have a stash of plastic Bags for Life that's so huge they're probably more damaging than the OG one-use plastic bag.

24. Do you get your government mandated 8 hours every night?

No. We go to bed some time between 22.00 and midnight, depending on what we're up to that evening, and inevitably hang out in bed for so long we don't go to sleep until past one. It's my favourite thing, so I'm not complaining, but I am sleepy.

25. Favorite old person activity?

Does reading count? I like walking as well.

26. Would you rather sit on the porch drinking sweet tea or sit by the lake drinking beers?

Lake lake lake.

Beer beer beer.

27. Do you prefer Boardgame Night, Build-Your-Own-Pizza Night, or Movie Night with your friends?

Movie night.

28. Be honest, do you like all of the pictures of their babies that your friends send you?

My friends don't have babies, but I do not enjoy the pictures from my colleagues and acquaintances either. The human child is grim and sticky and I fundamentally don't understand the mindset that leads people to have them. Jim and I have been discussing it pretty intensely as we're 35 this year and our decision will soon be permanent, but my stance never really wavers.

29. Go-to holiday card format?

Unsure what this means. Jim's mum is hugely into sending cards, which I find quite daunting. Daunted, however, I rose to the challenge of sending cards back, and now I quite enjoy keeping an eye out for nice cards to add to my stash so I've always got a few ready to send — to her or to my own parents, who seem to appreciate my shift toward sending them.

30. How many pairs of scissors do you own?

So many scissors. We have a drawer of scissors. I want to say 15–20 pairs of scissors.

31. Do you still own your first car?

I do not. It was a 2003 Ford Ranger that was scrapped (not by me) for rust-related issues. Its engine went to Poland, I believe.

I note my first vehicle was a Yamaha YBR125 Custom, which I didn't keep very long at all. Just checked its history and apparently it's been off the road since 2021. :(

32. How do you take your morning coffee/tea?

It's tea, and I like milk and no sugar.

33. What's something you collect?

Bug skins. Specifically dragonfly sheds, but I have some cicadas from when I was a kid.

I also have my childhood spoon collection.

34. What's your commute like?

I leave the house, turn left down our alleyway, mount the bridge, and arrive at my home office in the garden.

Sometimes I *do* get called into the office, and that's a three-hour drive each way, with *people* at the end, eugh.

35. Aisle at the grocery store you never bother walking down?

The fizzy drink aisle. I like having teeth and shunning the betes.

I do however drink enough beer that I may fail on both those points anyway.

36. Do you keep a daily journal or agenda?

Sometimes. I'm insufficiently organised to keep at it. Instead I have a series of spreadsheets to log my chores and batch cooking, and I use my Google calendar to mark important events.

37. Do you still listen to the same music you listened to in high school?

Aw yeah. Favourites include Muse, Fiona Apple, System of a Down, Pink, Nine Inch Nails, Linkin Park, Alanis Morissette, Snow Patrol, Vanessa Carlton, A Perfect Circle, Pendulum and The Prodigy.

38. What's the last filter you changed?

Errr, I washed the filters on my Makita stick hoover. Replaced...? Probably the air filter for my Vauxhall Combo.

39. What little treat do you always get when you run errands?

I am not a little treat person; I want the money to stay in my bank account pls.

I do sometimes buy Jim some Marvelous Creations or a Terry's Chocolate Orange. I get the warm fuzzies from giving him stuff.

40. Grocery list or no grocery list?

List. Colour-coded by section, if I can. How does anyone survive without a list? Do you hold it all in your heads?? Like madmen???

41. What's the oldest thing you own?

My house, built in the 1800s. Whenever I get pissed at how badly built it is, I have to stop and consider that when my childhood home was being built (early enough to be damaged by shrapnel in the Coventry Blitz) my house was already over 100 years old.

42. What's an unjustifiably expensive appliance that you really want?

The ✨Bissell Spinwave✨

Look at that stunning thing. Give me those clean floors, Bissell. Please. Mopping just doesn't cut it.

43. Favorite book you've read recently?

Toss-up between The Priory of the Orange Tree, Slaughterhouse Five and Penance.

Probably Orange Tree.

44. Honest feelings on Settlers of Catan?

Never played it, not really a boardgame person.

45. What's something you wish you had more time for?

Writing, art, motorcycling, bicycling. At the moment, all my time is devoted to work, housekeeping, DIY and mechanical maintenance stuff. I'll get some time back when Jim's done with his uni degree, but I dunno that I'll ever finish writing a book again.

46. What kind of stuff do you keep on the door of your refrigerator?

A bin day calendar, a list of meals for the week with their eat-by dates and a shopping list.

47. Lamps or overhead lighting?

Overhead lighting. I get very angry very quickly if I have to put up with dimly lit rooms. We have some overhead spotlights that drive me a bit insane too, though; they cast intense shadows.

I fitted my office with my ideal lighting: 120 degree beam angle, 3200 lumens, warm temperature light bars. Everything is warmly and evenly lit.

48. If you could build your home from scratch, what outrageous feature would you want to build into it?

I'd move the house to the top of our hill, dig in a huge basement garage and lift the overall roof height by a couple metres to gain high ceilings on both above-ground floors. Skylights, exposed beams, cavity walls, underfloor heating, big windows with electric blinds, American-style HVAC ducting, central vac, some sort of built -in dehumidifier, triple glazing, water filtration and some kind of water pressure booster, giant log-drying facility, sauna.

49. Do you bring a bag with you everywhere you go?

No. On hikes and bike rides I take my Osprey Raven 14, but in urban areas I just stick my keys, wallet and phone in my pockets.

50. Pro or anti throw pillows?

None on the bed, a few on the sofa and armchair. Gotta have washable covers. Gotta get that Persil-fresh scent.

51. How many blankets do you keep in your living room?

Two: a fancy Melin Tregwynt lambswool blanket bought for us by Jim's mum that covers the cracked leather on our armchair, and a thin red washable fleece drape (also bought for us by Jim's mum) that I use as a barrier between me and the sofa if I'm at all dirty when I want to sit down.

We have a few more woollen blankets that go on the bed and on my sofa out in my office. They were all bought by my mum or by Jim's.

52. Did your relationship with your parents get better when you stopped living with them?

MIXED REVIEWS. Stopped living with my dad at eleven and that did not go well. Moved fully out of my mum's home at 25 and that helped a lot, although I think General Adulthood was doing most of the heavy lifting — we weren't at loggerheads even before I left.

I have a distant but amicable relationship with both of them now, where I have to initiate all contact but it usually goes well when I do, although my mum keeps freaking out over my potential ND status and my sibling's ongoing transition.

53. What's worse, the DMV or the Social Security Office?

Not American so I'm not sure. I guess our equivalents are the DVLA and the DWP.

I hate both but the DWP are worse. I worked for them for a little while (unpaid, in exchange only for my jobseeker benefits 🫠) and it was hell in there. My internship allowed me to be a relatively beneficial figure in the Jobcentre and offer (completely unfunded) tech training and digital support to some of our vulnerable jobseekers, but the permanent staff had to hit targets, targets that centred disqualifying people from benefits. Awful shit.

The DVLA can't type and regularly fuck up my forms, but most of my interactions with them are automated these days and they don't peddle human suffering. Go go DVLA, winning when the bar is in hell.

54. Do you decorate your house for holidays? Which ones?

We dress our trees and the chapel with fairy lights for Christmas. I'm not really a Christmas person — fairly anti-theist — but we've been slowly returning to some of these practices and finding them pleasant. I hate the gift-receiving but enjoy the lights and food.

55. Favorite high-effort meal that you make?

My Beef and Guinness Stew. This one:

56. Favorite low-effort meal that you make?

Asparapasta. Don't think I've bothered adding it to my site, so:

Chop up bacon, an onion and a pack of asparagus.

Put pasta on to boil and start frying the bacon.

When the bacon reaches your desired level of crispiness, add the onion to the pan and cook. Give the onion a slight head start, then add the asparagus too. Fry, stirring regularly, until the asparagus softens and turns a brighter green.

Reduce the heat to low and add the juice of one lemon and a huge dollop of Thai sweet chilli sauce. Stir and simmer while you drain the pasta.

Put the pasta in bowls and top with the other ingredients. Add parmesan and black pepper. Consume.

57. Do you tend to bring an appetizer, entree, dessert, or drinks to a potluck?

Too unsociable for potlucks.

58. What kind of bag do you use for your bag full of bags?

It used to be one of those waxy flat-woven structured rectangular LIDL bags, but now I have a box for them instead. The box is a locking plastic box used by the NHS for human flesh samples. It's clean now.

59. If you died and your ghost was stuck in the outfit you're wearing right now for the rest of time, would you be happy with it?

Jeans - "For the Horde" t-shirt - oversized red jumper - ill-fitting socks.

It's okay. Representative.

60. Do you have an opinion on your local weather reporter?

I do not know who they are as I do not pay my TV licence and thus have no terrestrial television.

61. Do you have a favorite brunch spot?

I do not deviate from the standard three-meal pattern. Get out of here, brunch.

62. Where are you on the minimalism-maximalism kinsey scale?

Standard bi woman. I want patterned wallpaper but bare shelves. I never achieve the bare shelves.

63. Opinion on Bath and Body Works?

I've never been. I hate Lush and The Body Shop, which I suppose are similar. Generally I feel the current self-care trend is just more consumerist bullshit.

(This totally unbiased political opinion sponsored by my scent-induced migraines.)

64. Last time you visited a farmer's market?

A month or so ago, when I discovered one in the field opposite the MOT centre where I was dropping off some motorbikes. I bought some vegetables and a pair of tomato plants.

65. Anything you're procrastinating on right now?

I should be doing some work-work (editing a blog article written by my colleague). I'm pretty on top of things otherwise. As a long-term disorganised mess, I feel weird about this degree of hard work and expect it will not last.

66. Do you get your taxes in as soon as possible, at the last minute, or late?

I'm on PAYE (pay as you earn) so it goes out automatically in real time. Rest assured I'd be a last-minute fuckwit who occasionally submits late because I put a form in a "safe place" if I had to do it myself.

67. Do you keep any stuffed animals on your bed?

Sometimes Max puts his stuffed stegosaurus in there and I discover it with my feet. Thanks, buddy.

68. Are your garbage bags scented or unscented?

Unscented. Scented is beyond grim. I feel I am consistent on this point.

69. What are you looking forward to next week?

A few things!

Get those Tories out of office.

It's Max's birthday! New dog toy time.

Hoping a new bearing arrives for my ebike engine and I can start riding again.

My project YBR is booked in for its MOT on Monday. Fingers crossed it's deemed roadworthy and I can move on to other projects.

Ask meme for people in their 30s

What was the first piece of furniture you bought?

What proportion of your meals do you cook?

Foaming hand soap or normal hand soap?

Favorite chore?

Least favorite chore?

Most precious thing one of your pets has destroyed?

Any groceries you've been getting into lately?

What cleaning product do you swear by?

What's your emotional support craft?

Youtube, cable TV, or streaming?

What's something you saved up for and then regretted buying?

How many cups can you see from where you're sitting?

Which filter are you most likely to go "eh, it's probably fine" when you find out you need to change it?

How often do you take baths?

Do you go down each aisle when you grocery shop, or only the ones you know you need stuff from?

Where do you go when you need to get out of the house but it's raining?

What's a movie you saw recently that you liked?

Pro or anti tchotchkes?

What's your go-to tape?

What's in your freezer right now?

Last concert you attended?

Favorite grocery store?

Paper bags, plastic bags, or reusable bags?

Do you get your government mandated 8 hours every night?

Favorite old person activity?

Would you rather sit on the porch drinking sweet tea or sit by the lake drinking beers?

Do you prefer Boardgame Night, Build-Your-Own-Pizza Night, or Movie Night with your friends?

Be honest, do you like all of the pictures of their babies that your friends send you?

Go-to holiday card format?

How many pairs of scissors do you own?

Do you still own your first car?

How do you take your morning coffee/tea?

What's something you collect?

What's your commute like?

Aisle at the grocery store you never bother walking down?

Do you keep a daily journal or agenda?

Do you still listen to the same music you listened to in high school?

What's the last filter you changed?

What little treat do you always get when you run errands?

Grocery list or no grocery list?

What's the oldest thing you own?

What's an unjustifiably expensive appliance that you really want?

Favorite book you've read recently?

Honest feelings on Settlers of Catan?

What's something you wish you had more time for?

What kind of stuff do you keep on the door of your refrigerator?

Lamps or overhead lighting?

If you could build your home from scratch, what outrageous feature would you want to build into it?

Do you bring a bag with you everywhere you go?

Pro or anti throw pillows?

How many blankets do you keep in your living room?

Did your relationship with your parents get better when you stopped living with them?

What's worse, the DMV or the Social Security Office?

Do you decorate your house for holidays? Which ones?

Favorite high-effort meal that you make?

Favorite low-effort meal that you make?

Do you tend to bring an appetizer, entree, dessert, or drinks to a potluck?

What kind of bag do you use for your bag full of bags?

If you died and your ghost was stuck in the outfit you're wearing right now for the rest of time, would you be happy with it?

Do you have an opinion on your local weather reporter?

Do you have a favorite brunch spot?

Where are you on the minimalism-maximalism kinsey scale?

Opinion on Bath and Body Works?

Last time you visited a farmer's market?

Anything you're procrastinating on right now?

Do you get your taxes in as soon as possible, at the last minute, or late?

Do you keep any stuffed animals on your bed?

Are your garbage bags scented or unscented?

What are you looking forward to next week?

[marky-iplier]

Make a fic about the plumber, PLEASE. I am CRAVING it.

Here u go :D Enjoy!

Plumber Friend (Plumber!Mark x reader)

Just another Saturday, it was supposed to be a day off but since last night the kitchen sink had been clogged, probably because I forgot to put the strainer back, causing the pipe to be clogged. Luckily, Mark was a plumber. His job was surrounded by pipe and sewage systems. I told him about it and he laughed at my face, well, not hysterically because he knew it'd be too mean of him if he did that. 

He was a friend of mine, I remembered when he asked me out on a date with his working outfit on, making that pickup line relating to his job. It wasn't a good idea to ask your friend on a date but either way, it was a funny pick-up line.

I looked at my watch while standing patiently at my front door. Knock knock. 

There we go. I reached for the door handle and opened it, getting greeted by the plumber himself, his mustache as always stood out the most in my eyes, "Your pipe is clogged?" I was getting flashbacks when he asked me out on a date, good God.

"Yep, god, hearing those words is still haunting me to this day," I said as I let him into my apartment. He just chuckled, "Getting a flashback to our first date?" He opened up the cabinet under the sink, revealing the pipe under the sink.

"Don't ever bring that up," I threatened while taking a sip of my coffee. He just rolled his eyes playfully and inspected the pipe, "It shouldn't be long for me to unclog it, probably a few minutes or so."

"I see. I'll be in my living room, continuing my thesis," I said. I went to my living room where all the scattered paper, books, and my laptop were. I was so close to finishing my master's degree, but after a few years, finally.

A few minutes later, I was looking through the books I had picked out from the library for my thesis, "Hey, your pipe is fixed. Is there anything else that you need help with?"

"No, I think that's all? How much for all?" I got up from my sitting position, "I'll give you a discount if you want to go on another date with me." I looked at him in disgust. He just laughed, "No, no I'm joking. It'll be $100 dollars."

"Wow, your jokes are so funny," I sarcastically said after grabbing my wallet from the drawer on the end table beside my couch.

"Awe, come on, Y/n. You know you like my jokes." He leaned on the wall while crossing his arms against his chest, "You also like my sarcasm so that makes us equal then." I lent him a hundred-dollar bill and he gracefully accepted it, 

"Fair enough. I always enjoy seeing you all pissed off, I'm not sure why but it's just funny to see your face and reaction," he teased. I got up and led him to the front door, "Yeah, sure." Sure, he looked handsome and all. His body was my type but there was no way in hell I was going to date him again after the first one,

"In all seriousness, we should hang out often, as friends, of course. I can ask my other friends and you can bring yours too if you don't want to make it awkward. I can tell the work for your thesis must've been tiring for you," he said softly. He stepped out of the door. I thought for a moment, he was right. I was so busy with my thesis to the point I rejected many social gatherings, that it made me want to rip my hair out.

"Yeah, you're right. I just want to get my degree faster, that's all." He smiled, "I understand. Just text me if you want to hang out or need someone to talk with. I'm always here for you, okay?" Fuck it. I wrapped my arms around him. He didn't seem to expect that at all. 

He seemed hesitant at first but his hands slowly reached my back, hugging me.

"Thank you. I appreciate that a lot,"

"Of course. I'm still your friend. That's what friends are supposed to do."

[mircalla]

Meet Blorbo From My Game

Maybe you have been wondering what happened with all that sims in the polls stuff. Maybe you haven’t thought about it a single time since you voted. Maybe this is the first time you hear about it. Maybe you would like a link to the masterpost even though there’s not much there yet. I don’t know, but I do have an update. I finally got my laptop back, so I really wanted to just start playing without waiting for more polls. I could always change stuff later. It turns out the screenshots the game takes fucking suck, so there’s gonna be some pretty bad pics :(

So we have our sim, who I named “Blorbo From My Game”. You voted for the “other” gender option. Finding non binary mods was harder than I thought it would be, but I did get an androgynous body shape and a handful of clothes for it. I want to see if I’ll be able to alter clothes to fit the body shape, but my only experience with sims 2 cc is making shitty recolours when I was younger and simPE does scare me a little.

Your personality votes added up to a very grouchy and very playful taurus.

Blorbo’s aspiration is romance, and their lifetime want is to have 20 simultanious lovers. Although you get to pick your LTW in sims 3 and 4, it is random in the sims 2. It gets rerolled if you change your aspiration or complete the LTW, but that’s pretty much all you can do to control it without cheats or mods. I hope you like cheating (the romantic kind, not the motherlode kind), cause it looks like this is gonna be Blorbo:

Speaking of pride flags, I was too impatient to wait for a gender preference poll. I’m sorry about the lack of democracy. I kinda went with the assumption that you would probably vote for both.

Blorbo lives in a starter house in strangetown, which got one percent more votes than some of the other options. Based on the amount of votes it seems mathematically impossible, and might just be the result of how tumblr rounds the percentages to get 100? Either way, strangetown is iconic.

They must like animals, because they wanted to get a pet. They adopted an adorable black kitten called Bonkers. That’s the name the shelter gave him, and i absolutely did not feel the need to change it.

Blorbo really wanted to flirt with Ryan Wheeler even though they have terrible chemistry. That obviously didn’t go well. He looks so disgusted.

Afterwards he left the birdcage open. Was it just carelessness, or something more sinister?

Nothing bad happened though. Maybe because Bonkers is a teeny tiny kitten, or because he is well behaved, or maybe cats can’t even attack birds in ts2. *looks it up* yeah, they can’t. They also can’t escape. Where’s the drama in that? Ryan’s inability to hurt Polly doesn’t change the fact that he is the worst.

Blorbo went out and had some dinner, which was served quickly and without glitches even though sims 2 nightlife came out so many years before sims 4 dine out. Then they met some guy I forgot the name of, and had a date that was too mediocre to screenshot. Idk why they only roll wants to flirt with men. They are supposed to be attracted to women too.

Bonkers grew up into an adult, and shortly after he got taken away because of starvation. This happened while the bowl was full, so this is fucking bullshit. Polly also got taken away. Ryan must be to blame somehow, even though that doesn’t make any sense and isn’t something that can happen in the game. He trained Bonkers to starve himself. Fuck you, Ryan.

[agentstein]

                     general verse

tl;dr:

Sam was saved by Frank and David on the rooftop where he should have died. he spends about a year and a half recovering in the “dungeon”, as he so calls it, and re-enters society after many months on his own simply sitting and watching security cameras. he does not come out unscathed, however --

a few raised scars make his flexibility, especially in the abdominal region, limited. there are a couple raised scars on his throat and damage to his vocal cords caused him to go mute for many months -- he worked on his speech every day, though, without proper physical therapy and medicine, and he managed to walk away with a soft-spoken, gravel-toned harsh stage whisper. he suffers from nightmares and c-ptsd, and has resorted to alcoholism once again after having been sober in the few months leading up to his “death”.

it was too easy to reintegrate into society and this overwhelms him in a way. it reinstills the idea in his insecure mind that he’s insignificant and he may as well have remained “dead”. currently, he works as your run of the mill security guard, though tends more often than not to fall asleep at his desk -- he’s used to watching security cameras now, since having bunked with David and Frank, and it’s boring security work in a boring warehouse.

alternatively:

for those Frank Castle’s or David Lieberman’s (should i find one) that would rather stay out of Sam’s general verse (as i understand, those who play canon characters are not always keen on being featured in another’s backstory unless it’s 100% canon), then Sam was rescued by a nomad group. he still recovered in secret, rehabilitated himself, and works as a security guard in a boring warehouse now -- but Frank and David were not the ones to save him and help him recover. if you play either one of these characters, expect me to come into your IM’s before an interaction to be certain of how you feel on the situation. i don’t want to force anything!

for those interested in a more elaborate verse description, please feel free to read more below.

the events on the rooftop should have killed him, and in many ways it did. the blood that poured from his throat and stomach was nothing compared to the heart-breaking screams for help from Madani above him as he stared up at her frightened face. the blood on her features causes him panic in what he figures are his last moments on earth with the woman, but he soon realizes the blood is his own, and it eases his mind-- she was relatively safe at this moment, but she was not safe as a general rule. he’s desperate as he tries to choke out the words: “It’s Russo.”  he pleads in his head. “It’s Russo and he’s killed me and he’s going to kill you too.”  he hasn’t the energy to fight any longer . . . it’s wearing thin and eerie calm washes over him as Madani holds him against her. “I love you!”  he shouts in his head, reaching up with weak hands to cradle her face. “I love you so much.”

when he wakes, he’s in a damp and musty . . . warehouse? garage? dungeon? there’s pain shooting through every goddamned fibre of his being, and Sam tries to make a noise -- his throat is dry, pained, and only a cracked wheeze escapes. the last thing he remembers seeing is Dinah, and he can’t help the panic that startles him upward. the pain in his stomach and neck promptly throws him back down with tears in his eyes and nausea flushing him cold. he’s never felt such pain in his entire life. he’d been injured during missions, but nothing like this. he’d never come back from the dead before.                                                                                      “  whoa there, big guy. ”

the voice is familiar, but he can’t place a name or face to the tone -- it isn’t until his eyes focus properly and his brain registers the man towering above him that recognition finally comes flooding back. the punisher. this was it -- he must be deceased. and if he wasn’t, he was certainly about to be. a whimper stutters out of him, voice lost before it can even try to crawl up and on to his tongue. the beast of a man reaches out to steady him, large paws on either shoulder to keep him down. the fear in Sam’s eyes must be readable, because Frank merely puffs a heavy sigh, nodding his head toward another before finally stepping away.

David is a little more kind to the injured man than Frank is, though they’re both very patient with him and they both take special care to ensure that Sam knows they haven’t brought him here to kill him or keep him captive. they want to help him. they want to help him through his rehabilitation -- because Sam can’t do this alone. but he’s part of the Funeral Club now. the Walking Dead, as Sam liked to joke, but Frank and David didn’t find it as funny as he did. nobody else was capable of helping Sam, when Sam wasn’t among the living.

the injuries Sam sustained on the rooftop were not easy to overcome -- it took some time before Sam was able to move and twist much without shooting pains in his abdomen . . . but it took far longer for his voice to recover. and even when he was able to finally speak again, his vocal cords had sustained such damage that his voice was strained. gravel. soft-spoken and more like a stage whisper than anything. various raised scars adorn his stomach, as well as two gnarly scars raised on his throat.

as time went on, life went on as well -- David had gone home to his family, and Frank was on the run again. stay here as long as you need, David had told him, and Sam took him up on the offer. after all, David had taught him more than enough to get by on his own if needed -- how to work the equipment and cameras. the security and how to remain unseen and unidentified. Frank was good at that too -- helping him create personas . . . and even though Sam appreciated it more than he could express, there was no sense in wasting a name to a face that others already knew. so after a year on his own, in the musty dungeon he had called his home, Sam left. reintroduced himself into society.

it was easier than he had originally anticipated.

he wasn’t one of those faces -- one of those people that others remembered. it was easy enough to simply wear a scarf and let people believe he was simply a soft-spoken man. it was almost overwhelming, how easy it was for him to walk the streets without anyone knowing who he was, or what had happened to him, or where he had been for over a year. it was even pathetically easy enough for him to land a lazy job. working security for an even lazier organization. it wasn’t Homeland . . . but it was something to sustain him. something that paid for his tiny bachelor apartment with just enough left over for beers and ramen noodles.

[jkstompers]

just to study | jjk

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader

summary: your seat partner asks if you’re free after class, just to study.

genre: fluff, college!au, established friendship, flirtationship, mutual pining, they go to a ‘frat’ party together, also yugyeom! a sweetheart<3 we love him.

warnings: mature!!, mentions of alcohol + alcohol consumption, mentions of sex, strong language, SEXUAL TENSION, mentions of dick sucking??, hints of a wet dream on oc’s end, very strong urges to kiss each other but no kisses today </3, that’s pretty much it!

word count: 7.4k (i...kinda went overboard)

authors’ note: hello!! this is a pt. 2 to sleepyhead! it’s based a few weeks after so yeah <3 also the pacing is kind of weird but… i don’t really know how being drunk is so............(＞人＜) i’m sorry about that! one scene was inspired by this post haha it was just so cute to think about i had to do it. ALSO i literally haven’t taken anatomy since high school so i just used random terms from quizlet T_T pls excuse that as well! but otherwise, enjoy!!!!!!!!! (っ^_^)っ

(if u see any typos...ignore them pls T_T)

side note: imagine jk looking like this when he goes to the party lmao classic fboy look with the camo bomber and his piercings ugh <3

banner pic creds here ! <3

you made it to class on time today, woke to your alarm and even had enough time to eat breakfast before you came. in a particularly good mood, you made your way up the stairs to the row jungkook was sitting in, hoping that the seat next to him was empty (you didn’t have to hope, jungkook always saved the seat next to him for you, no matter what.)

“good morning, ___!” jungkook’s voice greets you the same as always as soon as you appear next to him. he moves his bag out of the way for you to sit down.

he looks especially cute today. his long floppy hair framing his face, his sweet smile beaming up to you. you wonder how dumb you looked drooling over him for a minute before you replied, “hi jungkook, how are you?” with the same smile on your face that you show him every time he sees you. it never changes, but it never fails to make jungkook’s heart skip a beat.

“i’m doing okay, you?” he answers while you pull out your laptop.

you didn’t have a chance to reply before your professor starts talking. informing the class about the test that’s planned at the end of the month, finals in two months, and then dropping the bomb that there’s a quiz tomorrow about the things you’ve learned in the past week. a slight panic takes over you, although you didn’t know why, you understood what he was teaching and you were retaining all of the information well. but when the professor pulls up all the information on the screen to review it all, all of the words and pictures overwhelm you.

to make things worse, jungkook is to your left, not paying attention to a word your professor is saying. instead, playing some game where he has to click his touchpad an obnoxious amount of times. your attention is split between jungkook’s erratic tapping and the notes that the professor projects onto the screen, even though his computer barely made any noise, his incessant movement was distracting you.

“jungkook, you’re taking notes and playing a game?” your voice comes out as a rushed whisper. there’s a snort that comes from him before he nods. you couldn’t be mad at him. “there’s a quiz on all of this tomorrow, you know?”

“i know,” he continues to tap and click, the motion growing incredibly annoying. you didn’t know why you couldn’t have just tried to block it out, but he was just so close to you and admittedly, you looked at his hands, a lot. the way that his fingers tapped against his keyboard and his veins that accentuate his already beautiful hands, it was free art you could look at, how could you not? at this point, you’re contemplating holding his hand to make him stop tapping.

you were in the middle of typing when he finally stops, leaning back and stretching his arms up into the air. you let out a sigh of relief, until he starts again. apparently he reached the next level on his game, tapping even faster, if that was even fucking possible.

quietly, you groan. turning your attention solely on him. you place your hand on top of his, the tapping ceasing almost immediately. “please, jungkook, you’re distracting me.”

he looks at your hand before he looks at you, his chocolate doe eyes wide to the action. he gulps, “sorry.”

you remove your hand, focusing back to the presentation. jungkook feels the heat from his cheeks travel to his hand. the feeling of your hand on his wasn’t something he was expecting to experience today, but he wants nothing more than for you to do it again. he exits the game tab and changes his focus to the lecture.

or moreso, you focusing on the lecture.

you look so cute. your cheek pressed up against your fist. he stares at the way that your forehead creases in concentration. he taps on your arm that’s resting on the table, “hey, you look like you’re stressed out.”

you turn your head slightly to look over to him. “that’s because i am,” you send him a quick smile before you go back to looking at the projection.

he furrows his eyebrows, “why? you’re smart, there’s no need to worry about what you get on this.” you were an a+ student, never anything less than that. jungkook knows that you ace every test that you take, so he doesn’t quite understand why you’re so stressed.

“because jungkook,” you groan. you expected a lot from yourself, sure b’s were okay, but a’s and a+’s were what you wanted and what you thought would make you feel satisfied. there was no way you could explain this without sounding like an overachiever. so you just sigh, “i’m just not really prepared.”

jungkook thinks of the perfect way to spend more time with you, snapping his fingers before suggesting, “we should study together after class, studies show that studying with someone else will give you an a+, guaranteed.” the confidence in his voice makes you smile, and helps you ease up a little bit.

you raise an eyebrow, a laugh creeping up from your lungs. “source for that statistic, sir?”

he taps his right temple, the gesture making you snort. “no but seriously, i’ll help you out,” he assures. his laptop turns towards you to show you all the notes he took, different words highlighted and colored differently.

you act like you think about it, staying quiet for a minute or so. but you know the answer was yes no matter what. “just to study?” you tease. jungkook raises his eyebrows in surprise, an amused smile on his face, “just kidding, we can go to mine? i owe you for the ride you gave me like two weeks ago.” you tap your fingers against your laptop nervously, your teeth taking in your bottom lip as you ask. you haven’t had a guy over to your apartment, not since you’ve moved in. there’s a certain anxiousness that comes with the suggestion.

jungkook nods, “sounds good.”

“okay, again.” you brush your hair behind your ears, preparing yourself once more for another pass of the flashcards. the two of you have been at it with these cards for the past hour or so, you were determined to get these right no matter how long it took. jungkook knew you were gonna get it down, you only had three more cards, these ones specifically stumping you.

“aponeuroses,” he looks at the card and then to you.

“connective tissue that forms a broad sheet which attach muscle to bone or muscle to other muscles,” you speak confidently. jungkook nods, moving onto the next card of the set of three.

“endomysium,” he reads the card. you hesitate on this one for a second, he plays with the corner of the card until you snap your fingers.

“that’s the connective tissue surrounding the… the— uh, oh! muscle fiber?” your brain works extra hard. jungkook rewards you with another nod, flipping to the last card.

“fascia.”

“dense connective tissue,” you begin, pausing to think of the rest of the answer. you start biting your thumb nail, knowing there’s more to it but it’s not coming to your brain quick enough.

jungkook just stares, watching your facial expressions as you search for the answer in your brain. this could be the worst crush he’s ever had, he thinks you’re cute when you’re just sitting there, thinking. he doesn’t remember ever liking someone this much, most of the time his crushes went away after a few weeks or so. but it’s almost been an entire year since he’s started crushing on you, and it still hasn’t stopped. you still manage to find a way to make his thoughts surround you.

“separates and holds individual tissues? it’s the one that extends into the tendons, right?” you perk up after a minute or so. your brain finally coming up with the answer. you blame jungkook’s presence for slowing you down. maybe you shouldn’t have accepted this offer to study together, because how could you focus when jeon jungkook is sitting right in front of you?

“you’re amazing,” he praises, setting the flashcards down onto the table. you blush at the compliment, jungkook takes notice, but he doesn’t mind, he thinks pink is pretty on you. he’s never wanted to kiss your cheeks as much as he did now, and trust, he’s thought about it many, many times. “all done?” he asks after staring at you for the longest time.

you nod, “just gonna highlight these terms to review them later so i can get it down 100%.”

jungkook watches as you diligently reread your notes and highlight them. an apple on the table taking his attention away for a second when he realizes he hasn’t eaten at all today. he takes a bite, the loud crunch noise seemingly startling the both of you. it makes you turn your head and raise an eyebrow towards him.

“sorry,” he chews, “hungry.”

your stare lingers a little longer than you wanted it to. his cheeks are full of apple, you can’t help but laugh a little. “there’s still the sticker on it,” you point out.

he turns the apple around to see the blue sticker. peeling it off, he holds it on his fingertip, an idea sprouting in his mind to see that sweet smile of yours again. so he places the sticker on your cheek, your gaze moving from your screen to him and then to the fruit sticker now stuck onto your cheek. “get it? ‘cause you’re sweet like this apple is,” he smiles.

oh my god. you blush embarrassingly, your entire face flushed pink as you hide your cheeks behind your hands. he laughs at your reaction. jungkook was feeling bold today, so he moves forward, gently taking your hands away from your face to see the cute pink tint he caused. he sits back, admiring your pretty face.

you feel yourself burning hotter and hotter the longer he stares, looking everywhere but his face, too scared to make eye contact. you look back to your computer screen, “um— there’s pasta in the fridge— if you’re hungry, i made it last night.” you offer, but he declines politely, telling you that he has to leave pretty soon because his friends are expecting him to join them today.

begrudgingly, you watch as jungkook packs his things up. he thinks about how content he felt hanging out with you today, and how he wanted to do it again, as soon as possible. a thought pops into his head before he opens the door to leave. he turns on his heel.

you weren’t expecting the sudden turn, accidentally bumping into his chest. “oof! sorry.”

“it’s alright,” he laughs, helping you steady yourself by holding your shoulders. “i just wanted to ask— uh, my friends are throwing a party tomorrow night, do you— do you wanna come?” his words come out jumbled, jungkook never fails to trip on his words whenever he’s near you.

tomorrow night...it’s a friday tomorrow, the quiz is tomorrow, why the fuck not? a stress reliever from all the studying you’ve done. “sure,” you answer after a minute or so of deliberation. you look up at him with a smile, suddenly realizing how close the two of you are.

your eyes flicker between his eyes and his lips, the close proximity makes you hold your breath. “great! i can pick you up? be your DD?” he quirks his head, a smile that matches yours on his face.

you nod, “yeah, i’d like that.” with that, jungkook takes a step back, widening the space between you both as his right hand goes to hold the strap of his bag.

“okay, i’ll text you the details.” before he turns around, turning the knob of your front door and letting himself out. before the door closes, he sends you a wave, one which you reflect as he pulls the door closed. you move up and lock the door, your forehead resting against the cold metal slab.

you wonder if this crush will ever advance into something more. neither of you really push the agenda, most of the time just cutely flirting with each other and only talking to each other during class. maybe this party will be a chance to further the bond the two of you have. you could only wish that you could drop this nervous shield that pops up everytime you’re around him, but jungkook is just so cool. the campus heartthrob, everyone wants to be him or be with him.

for the rest of the day, jungkook seems to occupy your mind, as he always does. when you get to sleep, the fantasies of jungkook’s lips on yours drift you into a deep sleep, one that eventually leads to a dream that has you rubbing your thighs together. his hands were all over your body, his cologne that you were so familiar with tormenting your nose, it all felt too real. so when you woke up to the sound of your alarm, sweat beaded at your hairline. you took deep breaths, cementing the fact that he isn’t here, and he certainly isn’t doing those things with you right now.

it was not helping that you dreamt of him sexually on the day of your quiz, the one that you were immensely stressing over. now, you’re gonna have to walk into class, act normal around jungkook even though your brain produced pornographic images of him, (it’s not the first time, but it’s the first time you’ve had to face him right after it happened) and ace this quiz.

you tried almost everything you could to have cleared your brain of your dream sequence. taking a shower, eating breakfast, studying once more, etc. but when you’re walking into the lecture hall, flashes of the dream and the sound of his imagined moan echo in your mind.

you walk up the stairs with your eyes down, not sure if you could make eye contact with jungkook without turning red. “hey, ___, good morning!” the familiar voice greets you.

“morning,” you reply, dryly. taking the seat next to him and silently taking your laptop out, waiting for the professor to start the quiz. jungkook seemed a bit taken aback by your cold answer, but he took into account that you’re probably just super nervous and stressed out because of the quiz, so he doesn’t take it too personally. instead, just sitting back in his chair and waiting patiently to take the quiz as well.

at this point, you were psyching yourself out, swearing that you already forgot all of the terms. if you were quizzed on the parts of male anatomy, specifically jungkook’s, then maybe you could ace it, but the terms that you were working oh so hard to memorize yesterday slip from your mind. when the professor tells you to separate and start the quiz, you start to bite your thumb nail again.

jungkook takes a look over at you, noticing the bad habit of yours. he gently takes a hold of your arm, pulling your thumb away from your teeth. the action causing you to make eye contact with him and his big doe eyes that hold so much love and light. you find yourself a bit speechless then, too many thoughts running around in your mind.

he whispers, “you’ll do great, okay?” the statement soothing your nerves. his voice somehow makes your body relax, even though you thought you would freak out if you made any sort of contact with him.

“you— you too, good luck,” you mutter. a half smile on your face. you were grateful that jungkook broke you out of your trance, his words of encouragement suddenly placing you in the testing state of mind. the images from last night's dream seem to put themselves away for now.

the next twenty minutes are complete silence. everyone focused on the questions before them. of course, you zoomed through the quiz, prepared for the trick questions and the harder ones that come up. jungkook finishes after you. it wasn’t a surprise, jungkook didn’t even have to try, you swear you’ve never seen him stress out before. nobody was perfect, you believed that, but jeon jungkook was the closest to it.

“okay, class! the quiz will be graded by tonight hopefully, you’re free to leave,” your professor alerts the class. jungkook waits patiently until you’re standing, following you down the stairs and out the door.

you decide to speak first, since you greeted him with such a dry response this morning. it wasn’t his fault that you dreamed of him on top of you, so why were you punishing him for it? “how’d you think you did?” you asked, turning to look at him.

he shrugs, “good i guess, i think i fucked up on one or two questions.”

“was it the striation part? i think i messed up on that one too.”

he shakes his head, “you know you aced that, don’t lie.”

you stay silent, the two of you walking to the campus parking lot. neither of you engage in conversation as you usually do. the images of last night’s dream slipping into your consciousness once again. you try to shake your head, to rid yourself of the thoughts. nothing else to distract you from them because jungkook was oddly silent the entire walk. you fear that he can actually read your mind and see all of your thoughts. if he could, he doesn’t mention it. not saying one word to you until he walks you to your car, greeting you with a ‘see you next class!’ before leaving to go to his car. not even mentioning the party to you, you start to wonder if he regrets inviting you. up until you heard your phone ring when you parked in the lot of your apartment complex.

[10:24 am] jungkook: hey! forgot to remind u about the party 😫

[10:24 am] jungkook: ur still down to come, right?

[10:28 am] you: hi! yeah :)

[10:28 am] you: is there a dress code or smth? haha

[10:29 am] jungkook: not that i know of 😂

[10:30 am] jungkook: u can wear anything u want

[10:30 am] jungkook: ur cute whatever u wear

[10:31 am] you: oh stop it jeon ur making me blush

[10:32 am] you: but tell me :( should i wear something casual? pants? a dress?

[10:34 am] jungkook: 😂

[10:34 am] jungkook: it’s kind of like a frat party…

[10:35 am] jungkook: so anything is okay

[10:37 am] you: ah okay

[10:37 am] you: i’ll surprise u then ;)

[10:40 am] jungkook: alright :)

[10:41 am] jungkook: i’ll come by around 9 to pick u up? sound good?

[10:42 am] you: yeah! gives me enough time to nap and get ready lol

[10:44 am] jungkook: great :) see u then cutie

you wake up from your nap around one, you had more than enough time for you to get ready for a party. so you decide to clean your apartment first, little chores to waste time before you get yourself dolled up. when you finished, it was around seven thirty. you washed your face, brushed your teeth, all that good stuff before sliding on a simple black bodycon that you got last summer. styling your hair and spraying on your favorite perfume before looking at yourself in the mirror. this wasn’t too much, right? lots of people wear stuff like this to frat parties, so you didn’t find it too fancy. the notification sound from your phone goes off, you move to check and see if it was who you were expecting.

[8:54 pm] jungkook: i’m here :)

[8:54 pm] you: ahh gimme a sec i need to pee haha

[8:55 pm] jungkook: take ur time cutie

[8:56 pm] jungkook: i’m right in front

jungkook only really had to wait about five minutes. the visual of you walking out of your apartment doors, looking the way you did, was breathtaking. his jaw drops, mouth slightly agape as he watches you walk up to his car through the passenger window. you are so gorgeous. it’s probably the first time jungkook’s seen you in clothes that really compliment your figure, most of the time you show up to class in hoodies and sweaters. so greedily, he takes in the way the dress hugs your curves deliciously. he shakes the thoughts from his head to get out of the car and open the door for you.

“what a gentleman,” you tease, getting into the car.

he joins you soon after, “you look...gorgeous.” jungkook doesn’t seem so shy now, his eyes taking in your beautiful self.

“thank you,” you blush under his stare. “is it too much?”

“no! no— not at all, all eyes will be on you tonight.” he smiles, turning the car on. now you were able to gawk over him. a simple outfit, all black with a black and white camo bomber. his side profile is perfect, his long hair draping over his face so gracefully and his piercings somehow sparkling in the dark of the car.

he doesn’t drive too far, somewhere in the suburbs where the big houses are. a huge iron gate in the front, seemingly too fancy for a frat party setting. jungkook rolls his window down to greet someone waiting in front of the gate with a couple of other guys.

“jeon! you’re late dude,” one of the guys gives him a handshake through the window.

“sorry man, i’m here now though,” jungkook laughs. the guy giving him the greenlight and opening the gate for him, jungkook parks inside on their stone driveway, decorated with a fountain and a beautiful garden.

“your friend lives here?” you inquire, impressed by the look of the place.

he nods, “fancy right? his parents are ceo’s.” makes sense, and it would also make sense as to why they were throwing a frat party here, rich sons always seem to stir up trouble whenever they’re bored.

he steps out of the car to open the door for you, always a gentleman. he takes your hand and helps you out, the two of you walking to the huge open double doors. as soon as you walk in, the smell of alcohol hits your nose, you try your best not to cringe. the blare of the speakers is the second thing you notice, along with the shouting of jungkook’s friends greeting him. “who’s this?” one of them asks, referring to you.

jungkook seems to hesitate at first, not really knowing how to introduce you. he settles by saying, “this is ___!” not attaching any ‘friend’, ‘classmate’, or anything to the introduction. his friend holds his hand out to shake yours.

you take it with a smile on your face, “i’m yugyeom, it’s nice to meet you!” a smile that reflects yours is on his face, it made you feel welcome. you were never really the type to go to parties, your time is spent working and/or going to school, but this interaction helps you ease up a little more.

“hello, yugyeom!” you reply, shouting over the music.

“do you wanna take a shot?” he asks. pointing to the enormous kitchen where they’re housing all the alcohol, you look to jungkook first who’s paying more attention to his phone rather than the conversation you were just having.

you shrug, “why not?”

yugyeom leads the two of you to the kitchen, jungkook following behind you blindly. he looks up from his phone, done with whatever business he was dealing with to ask, “where are we going?”

“taking a shot,” you answer, pointing to yugyeom who’s already pouring three shots.

“dude, i’m not drinking, don’t pour three.” jungkook tries to stop him before he fills up the third shot glass but his arm knocks yugyeom’s in the process, the bottle spilling the clear liquid into the third shot glass.

“i’ll take two,” you suggest, feeling a bit wild and down to venture out of your comfort zone.

yugyeom smiles at this, “i like her, jeon.” he hands you the two shot glasses full of vodka, jungkook stands next to you and watches as you down the first shot. your face cringing as soon as the alcohol touches your tongue.

“you didn’t even give her a chaser,” jungkook notices, scolding yugyeom who's already downed his shot and is sucking on a lime. “here, suck,” holding a slice of lime up to your lips. his choice of words disorienting you, especially since he was holding the lime up to your mouth instead of just handing it to you. your eyes flicker between the lime and his face, but nevertheless, you suck. sinking your teeth into the sour fruit. jungkook’s eyes zeroed in on how your lips wrap around the slice, slightly grazing his fingers. it’s not long before you’re making a cute scrunched up face from the sourness. “good,” he praises. you don’t deny the slight burn your lower belly felt when he said that to you. you swear he was making sex eyes to you, but you couldn’t tell. he broke eye contact with you soon after, throwing the fruit into the trash below the table that the alcohol was perched on.

yugyeom hands you another lime for your second shot, this time no jungkook to hold the fruit for you. the second shot burning down your throat with the lime chasing after, both yugyeom and jungkook cheer, congratulating you for being a trooper (even though two shots were their warmups).

the next hour or so, jungkook brings you around. he introduces you to his friends and making conversation with them. one certain group, you didn’t really enjoy. a group of five girls, clearly swarming jungkook as soon as he turned around from talking to another one of his friends. the girls ask how he’s been doing, all of the basic conversation starters. when jungkook tries to introduce you, they all turn to you and give you a little head nod before turning their attention back to jungkook. he stands there, conversing with them longer than he had with any of his other friends, and you found yourself getting, hm, jealous.

so you search around the room crowded room, looking for some way out. your eyes spot yugyeom in the backyard through the huge sliding doors, sitting on one of those lawn chairs with the one next to him empty. you decide to leave the group you were currently getting pushed out of and join yugyeom. he notices you when you step onto the grass, trying your best not to sink into the dirt with your heels. “you doing alright? where’s jungkookie?” he asks, sitting up.

you plop down onto the lawn chair next to him. “he’s in there,” you point to the house, “with five girls.”

the last bit of the sentence makes him laugh, a cackle where he holds his stomach because he was laughing so hard. “do you want a shot?” he offers after he recovers from his fit, pulling a tequila bottle out from nowhere.

but you agree, “two, please.” he fills the two shot glasses, but not completely like he did with the vodka earlier. there were no limes, or any type of chaser for you to take around, so you take the two shots like ripping off a band-aid, quick.

“you’re a funny girl,” yugyeom compliments when you’ve downed the shots.

“thanks?” you cough, the feeling of the alcohol still burning your nose and throat, “what did i say that was funny?”

“i think it’s because i’m tipsy, but that joke you made about jungkook being with five girls was hilarious.” he slaps his knee, almost making himself laugh up a storm again, but you weren’t laughing.

you raised an eyebrow, speaking with a serious tone. “it wasn’t a joke, he’s in there with five girls.”

yugyeom tries to collect himself, sitting properly on the lawn chair when he asks you to clarify, “you mean he’s fucking them? or he’s talking to them?”

you’re silent for a second before replying, why did you say it like he was in there fucking them? maybe it’s because he might as well be, so engrossed in whatever the hell they were saying to even notice that you were gone. “just talking to them,” you reply.

“that’s what i thought, jungkook isn’t like that anymore,” yugyeom nods his head, pouring another shot out for you.

“anymore?” you ask. he hands you the shot, you hesitate this time, starting to feel the effects of the first four shots you took. he doesn’t push you to take it. he just leans back onto the lawn chair as he sighs.

“you could say he’s retired,” he shrugs.

the term makes you laugh, “...a retired fuckboy?” you sit back into the lawn chair as well, looking up to the night sky. the shot glass forgotten on the table next to you. your body feels like it’s floating.

“yeah, he hasn’t really been doing stuff like that recently,” yugyeom spills. you stay quiet after he feeds you this information. yugyeom offhandedly telling you that you shouldn’t be jealous makes you feel guilty. why were you even jealous? jungkook was technically still just a friend to you. just because the two of you flirt every now and then doesn’t mean you’re together. of course he would be surrounded by girls, just look at him!

“there you are! i was looking all over for you,” jungkook interrupts your inner monologue. his voice comes from across the lawn, you look up to see him walking over to you and yugyeom.

“hi, jungkookie,” you smile up at him. the alcohol having more of an effect on you the longer you let it sit in your stomach.

he almost freezes up at the nickname, looking over to yugyeom and asking, “did you tell her to call me that?”

yugyeom holds his hands up in innocence, “i didn’t tell her to do anything, she’s like five or six shots deep though.”

you take the shot that was forgotten on the table and down it. “six,” you clarify.

“alright, slow down, iron liver,” jungkook jokes. yugyeom stands from the lawn chair, receiving jungkook’s telepathic signals to get the fuck up to he could talk and hang out with you.

“play beer pong with me later, ___! i’m gonna go look for eunwoo,” yugyeom points to you, giving you a thumbs up before leaving the backyard and moving into the house.

“feeling okay? think you might throw up soon?” jungkook asks, replacing yugyeom in the chair next to you.

“feel like i’m surfing, you know? like wavy,” you answer. the feeling was hard to explain, you weren’t dizzy but at the same time your brain was telling you to stop moving, even though you were completely still.

“ah, you’re getting there,” jungkook snorts. you didn’t have much willpower to answer, so the two of you sit there in a comfortable silence before a group of people coming towards, all greeting jungkook and you. they offer you a red cup, despite your current predicament. leaning against the chair and your droopy eyes, telling them that you’ve taken too many shots. a lightweight at her peak.

jungkook tries to deny it for you, but with a smile, you accept the cup. it was filled with the fancy mixed alcohol juice they had. “thank you,” you place the cup onto the table, “i’ll drink it.... later..” your words begin to draw themselves out. jungkook somehow finding a way to make the entire group leave, making it just the two of you again.

“give it to me, you’re starting to slur your words.” his hand is open, laying on the table and waiting for you to surrender the cup.

your eyes flicker from the red cup, to his face, then to his hand. a smirk on your face when you hold the cup up to your lips, tilting it back and drinking the cursed juice. you weren’t able to down it all, it was too much, you drank maybe ⅔ of it. you cough, taking in a deep breath as you try to steady yourself.

you weren’t sure if it was because you were drunk, but the way that his face looks in the moonlight was so pretty. so you just had to tell him. leaning forward, you speak, almost a whisper, “you’re so handsome.” you drag your finger across the expanse of jungkook’s hand. “did you know i have no gag reflex?” you smile, not your typical sweet smile that he’s used to, but a devilish grin.

jungkook’s eyes widen, his cheeks flushing immediately at your remark. “alright, you drank way too much.” he takes the red cup from your hands, dumping it out onto the grass in front of you both.

“hey, i wasn’t done,” you pout, but jungkook didn’t give you much time to mourn your spilled drink before he was holding your arm, lifting you from the lawn chair you were sitting on. “where are we going?” you ask, trailing behind him with your hand in his.

“gonna get you some water and something to eat,” he answers. the two of you move through the house, jungkook pushes through groups of people and makes sure you’re safe behind him.

“i have to pee.” you tip toe to tell him your emergency in his ear. he stops at the stairs, knowing a bathroom where no one else goes. his friend specifically telling him to use that bathroom when they have parties because the other ones get way too gross.

he brings you up the stairs to the guest bedroom, opening the door to reveal one of the biggest rooms you’ve seen. “the bathroom is there,” jungkook points to the door on the left. you nod, your wobbly legs making their way to the toilet.

jungkook sits on the bed patiently, waiting for you to finish. he hears the flush and the sound of the sink running, the door opens and you’re coming out of the bathroom, pulling your dress down. “are we gonna have sex?” you utter, slurring the end of your sentence. your alcohol poisoned mind taking over your ability to speak.

his eyes widen at the question. “no! no— oh my god, this is just the room with the cleanest bathroom, we’re not—“

you’re next to him now, “you don’t want to?” you pout. glassy eyes looking into his.

“no! i mean, yes, i want to but— fuck, just— just not now, yeah?” jungkook stumbles over his words, his face blushing a blood red. your pretty face peering up at him makes him even more flustered, his hands start to sweat.

“okay,” you nodded. your drunken brain deciding to stop the interrogation of jungkook’s desire for you. to which jungkook lets out a sigh of relief, taking your hand and bringing you out of the room, down the stairs, and out into the driveway. he brings you to his car, opening the passenger door for you. “wait, are we leaving already? yugyeomie wants me to play beer pong with him,” you complain, wiggling your hand from his grasp.

goosebumps appear on your arm when you make it outside of the house. jungkook notices when he turns around to look at you. without a second thought, he takes his jacket off and places it over your shoulders. the newfound warmth shielding you from the cold night. he didn’t mind the breeze, especially since he was still recovering from the stunt you pulled in the guest room.

“we can come back later if you want, let’s just go grab something to eat first so you won’t regret this tomorrow morning.” his explanation is pretty solid according to your drunken brain, so you oblige, moving to sit in his passenger seat.

he joins you in the driver’s seat not long after. “can we get mcdonald’s?” you ask as soon as he sits down.

a smile appears on his face as he starts the car, “sure.”

the drive made you feel a little dizzy, it makes you laugh. “you okay?” jungkook asks, but you nod your head. he’s so sweet, always asking if you’re okay, making sure you weren’t feeling too awful, etc. it only makes sense that you were falling head over heels for him.

“totally fine,” you look over to him with a smile on your face. he’s so fucking pretty, his side profile is something you could rave about for days. as he’s pulling into the mcdonald’s drive through, he’s talking into the intercom, ordering the two of you something to eat when you’re suddenly mumbling, “mcflurry, kookie, oreo mcflurry.”

he looks back to you, an amused smile on his face, “oreo mcflurry?” he repeats. you nod, “okay, anything for you.”

he reiterates the request into the intercom and the server gives him the greenlight. he drives forward and waits until the next car moves up, in the time being, he looks to you. your head laying up against the door and your eyes slowly blinking, warning him that you might fall asleep. so he reaches into his backseat, his arm looking for the water bottles that he usually keeps in his car.

“hey,” he taps your arm gently, “drink some of this first.” he hands you the water bottle, you blink slowly, trying to figure out what he was handing you. once you realize it was a water bottle, you take it, opening it and gulping some of the water down. jungkook is grabbing the food when you’re screwing the cap back on. he parks somewhere in the parking lot and tells you to start eating.

you grab your mcflurry first, the feeling of the cold ice cream on your tongue soothing your dizzy brain. “yum,” you think out loud.

jungkook laughs, taking out his hamburger while he takes out your chicken nuggets. “make sure to eat some of this, yeah? don’t want you throwing up and hating me.”

the thought makes you smile. jungkook was taking such great care of you. sure, he let you down the alcohol like it was nothing, but you never opposed to it, always taking the shot because you wanted to. now jungkook is here, taking care of you, because he wanted to. you knew that if it were anybody else, they probably would have left you at the party, letting you fend for yourself. the sudden warmth in your chest makes you want to tell jungkook everything.

with his jacket wrapped around you instead of him, you can see the bulge of his arm muscles peek out from the short sleeved shirt he was wearing. even drunk, your brain seems to travel back to the images from your dream. “you know, i had a dream about you, a reeaaaallllllyyyyy dirty dream, jeon jungkook.” you blurt out the confession before your thoughts catch up with you, the alcohol still very much blocking off the common sense part of your brain.

he tries his best not to overreact, but you had a dream about him? a dirty dream at that? it awakens something in jungkook, but he pushes it down, ignoring the feeling as he asks, “you did? what was it about?” he curious as to what you meant and what your dream entailed, but he didn’t want to push too far. especially since you were drunk and most likely just spilling everything because your brain doesn’t have the willpower to hold it back.

you stick your hand into the bag to steal some fries, stuffing them in your mouth. “oh, you don’t wanna know,” you chew.

jungkook quirks a brow, “well, was i good at least?” he jokes.

you scrunch your nose, nodding nevertheless. “too good, couldn’t even focus during the quiz because of it.”

jungkook is silent for a second. the conversation making him hot even though he wasn’t wearing his jacket anymore. so he clears his throat, trying to change the subject in a subtle manner. “is that why you were so mean to me this morning?” he pouts, connecting the dots.

you laugh at the question, “sorry, i didn’t mean to, i swear.”

with that, the rest of the time is spent eating. jungkook makes sure that you ate enough and drank enough water, the empty water bottle in his cupholder as proof. “do you want me to take you home now?” he asks, the two of you finished eating and now a silence takes over the car.

“are you going back?” you ask, fiddling with your fingers. he thinks you’ve started to sober up, or maybe have gotten to the point where you just want to sleep.

he shakes his head to your question, “honestly, i’m kind of tired, but if you want to go back, we can go.”

“no, i’m okay,” you decline the offer. jungkook laughs, starting the car again and driving back to your apartment complex.

you take this time to try to get yourself together. you know you’ll regret confessing to jungkook that you had a wet dream about him in the morning. but in the moment, it felt right to confess, (to your drunken brain of course). you tilt your head back, pushing your head against the headrest, and suddenly, you’re reminded of the stars jungkook has on his ceiling. you were silent as you admired the lights, jungkook takes a look at you when he’s stopped at a red light.

so cute, he thinks, staring up at his ceiling like it’s the real night sky. when he pulls up to your apartment complex, he wishes the night could be longer, that he could spend more time with you. he parks the car in the front, exactly where he picked you up. you’re looking to him now, your hands in your lap and your heart seemingly beating three times as fast as it usually does. it wasn’t the alcohol.

“did you have fun tonight?” he asks. his voice never fails to make you melt.

you nod, “i did.”

“i’m glad,” he smiles. there’s a small silence before he speaks once more, “also, y’know, you don’t have to stress yourself out so much, i know you might have expectations for yourself and stuff, but you should give yourself a break from time to time.”

the alcohol’s effects fading slowly from your brain when you start to realize that the entire reason jungkook invited you out was to help you destress. it makes you fall even harder, he was so thoughtful. even though a party wasn’t your scene, he invited you to give you a glimpse into how he has fun and hoped that it would help you loosen up a bit. you were grateful for the mental break he provided you.

you didn’t reply, purely because you were thinking about how much you want to kiss him right now, but it wouldn’t be right. when he speaks up again, there’s a nervous lilt in his voice, scared that he’s overstepped. “if you need anyone to help you— i don’t know, let loose? you can— you can always call me.” he scratches the back of his neck.

but you try your best to reassure him, smiling at the offer. “i will, thank you for tonight, jungkook, i really enjoyed it, despite being a lightweight.”

he laughs, staring at the way your face cutely scrunches when you giggle. he too, is fighting the urge to kiss you, because right now isn’t a good time. he wants to do it right. he doesn’t want to fuck it up with you. so instead, he hops out of the car and moves to open the door for you. helping you out of the car and walking you to your door, your hand in his.

“i’ll see you in class?” you turn to face him, squeezing his hand.

he nods, “yeah.” his signature bunny smile coming out to greet you a goodnight. “text me before you sleep?” he requests. you give him a thumbs up before he’s letting go of your hand and you’re sticking the key into your door, it’s then that you realize that you’re still wearing his jacket.

“oh!” you exclaim, taking the jacket off and handing it to him. but he holds his hand out to stop you.

“keep it, you can give it to me the next time we hang out, or something,” he suggests. you try to hide the growing smile behind a nod.

you hold onto his jacket, “goodnight, jungkook.”

he sticks his hands in his pockets, sending you another grin, “goodnight, ___.”

jungkook drives home, his empty apartment welcoming him. he plops down onto his bed, not even bothering to change out of the clothes he was in because he was that tired. the events of today running through his mind.

he hopes you don’t think he was doing anything with those five girls. he saw you walk away when you did, he tried his best to escape the conversation, but they kept pulling him back. he gave up after ten tries of trying to get away, standing there for a good fifteen minutes listening to them babble about how much they missed him. jungkook had never rolled his eyes so many times in a conversation.

the talk the two of you had after was another thing taking over his mind. your dirty flirting and your dream you mentioned in the car had his imagination running all over the place. he didn’t want to push you when you explained, but he was very curious as to what he did in your dream, and how good it was for you to have it run through your mind all day.

his phone rings next to him. he turns and opens it, a smile on his face when he reads your message.

[12:32 am] you: hi jungkookieeeeeeeee

[12:33 am] you: im sleeping noww

[12:33 am] jungkook: alright cutie

[12:33 am] jungkook: goodnight! again 😂

[12:34 am] you: goodnight <3

he turns his phone off after that. looking up to his ceiling with a dumb smile on his face. his mind thinking of you and only you.

[iwishicanbeagoodpianist]

the Wifilcon and the Winter Router

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC/Reader Summary: When Bucky learns that his neighbor has been stealing his wifi for months. Warnings: None A/N: I'm not a fanfic writer at all, this, like all my stories, are adaptations to fanfics. My original stories are not written in english, so this is also a translation. please do not repost my work

For an instant, Bucky thought that the knocking he was hearing was coming directly from his head, I mean, it wouldn't be the first time his mind played tricks on him, but he realized that the sound was actually coming, unluckily for him, from his apartment door. Oh no no no no no no no, I just got back from putting up with Sam for almost 6 full weeks, I don't need interaction with more people for now.

Bucky thought for a minute to ignore the sound, to wait for the person to give up and leave, anyway he didn't spend many days on this apartment, almost no one had seen him leave or enter the building and he had no contact with the neighbors, only with the lady on the 7th floor who once lost one of her cats, which ended up in Bucky's apartment, accidentally. Not that I found the cat in the alley and actually brought him to my apartment, it doesn't mean that I stole the cat, he was in the street by himself, I rescued him.

When the banging on the door stopped and Bucky thought he could breathe calmly again, a voice between altered and annoyed was heard all the way to the living room where he was sitting trying to overcome his third panic attack and fourth existential crisis of the day .

-"I know you're in there! I saw you coming in a few hours ago! I've been waiting for days for you to come back!"-

More out of instinct than anything else, Bucky pulled out the knife hidden in his right boot as he slowly backed away from the door. Do I really have a spy as a neighbor? Should I call Sam? Is he in danger too? Never mind now, you need an escape route Bucky, concentrate, third floor, window to the alley, 2 minutes max, the bike is parked far away, I'll have to run, but to where, rendezvous point, safe place, think....

- "for God's sake, open the door, I need you to pay for your fucking internet plan, I'm in the last season of my series and I need to know if Carolina died or not!"-

- "The internet?"- Between the andrenaline from escaping and the shock of not understanding what was happening Bucky spoke louder than an assassin, with over 60 years of experience, should have spoken. Oh, shoot.

-"Yes! Your wifi, I need it to finish watching my series"-

Whispering "wifi" to himself, Bucky tries to remember where he has heard that word before, this is what I get for never listening to Sam when he talks to me. But before he can continue his mental analysis of all the conversations with Sam about such stupid things as his favorite American Football team, the New Orleans Saints, that I remember, to how Antonio could possibly leave María on the last episode of the 6 o'clock telenovela of which Sam is a fan, his apparent "neighbor" spoke up again:

-"Jesus Christ, can you open the door? So we can resolve this like adults"-

Bucky resigned to the fact that he has given his position to the "enemy", walks to the door and opens it waiting for his death. Well at least if I die I won't have to listen to Sam again talking about Antonio and María. But on the other side of the door, there was a woman, who in her pajamas, very unthreatening but cute, was watching him as if he were a ghost but still with defiance in her eyes, in one breath she introduced herself and continued her speech about her complaint to Bucky:

-"As I was saying, I need you to pay for your internet"-

-"I'm sorry, but I'm not sure I understand what you mean"- mumbled Bucky.

- "Good Lord"- To Bucky's surprise his neighbor, pushes him and enters his home, well not so much a home home, more like the headquarters of his secret club, of which he is the president, vice president and only member, the point is that it is his place, where he can (and wants to be alone), as she lives here. This must be a dream, maybe I hit my head too hard in the last mission and I am unconscious in the hospital.

Crossing the room, Bucky's unwanted visitor looks around searching for something while whispering the words "I see you are quite minimalist, but maybe this is too much, someone urgently needs to look for some inspiration on Pinterest". She stops abruptly in front of the shelf where, in theory, a TV should go, while shouting: "EUREKA", she bends down and picks up a white device which has two antennas and like a million little blinking lights, damn, that looks like something out of a spaceship, I'm being watched by aliens? I'm being spied on by Kree?

-"This is your router, this is where the internet signal comes from, which I need you to pay for so I can finish watching my series"-.

Bucky, still in shock for the third time in less than 15 minutes, as he processes the idea that perhaps Thanos' unknowing twin is spying on him for a second invasion of earth and revenge for his brother's death. He can only nod to his now more relaxed and happy neighbor.

-"Perfect, thanks! I need to check the food I left in the oven, I'll talk to you later"- and as quickly as she came she left through the same door, leaving Bucky with more doubts than answers, peeking down the hallway, he realizes that she is the neighbor who lives next door, to his right. When Bucky comes out of his initial stupor, still not fully understanding what is going on, he decides to take his cell phone out of his pocket and call his own personal Google to solve his doubts about this century: Sam Wilson.

-"Hey Buck! What's up?"-how does he always manage to sound so happy? focus Buck.

-"What the hell is a router and why do I have one in my house?"- somehow Bucky manages to formulate, although maybe his voice cracked a little on the last words.

-"That thing's been there for at least two months and you didn't even notice it? Have you even paid the bill?"-

-"You put this in here? Without telling me????"- maybe Sam is also a Kree? Who can I trust now? It's all a trap?

Listening to Bucky's accelerated breathing, Sam tries to explain to him slowly, that in this century life without internet is not life, but obviously as Bucky does not even know how to set the alarm on his own cell phone, he was in charge of buying the router and creating the contract with the company so that, the 106 year old man could have his personal network at home. He had given it the name but he had not given it a password so that Bucky himself could set it up later. "I am an excellent friend, I mean co-worker, if I may say so"

-"Sorry man, after all that happened, we got called for a mission and I forgot to tell you, do you have your laptop over there? I'll help you set up a password, so your neighbors won't steal your internet anymore"- and with that comment everything started to make sense in Bucky's slightly screwed up but functional mind about the events with his seemingly non-spy and harmless neighbor.

Meanwhile Bucky was trying to remember his own password to unlock the laptop in front of him, also courtesy of Sam. "Bucky, when you learn about online banking and that you can pay your rent, electricity, phone and everything with a click of your computer, you will thank me". It should be noted that Bucky hasn't used that laptop once, like a good 100 year old grandpa he goes to the bank to make his deposits and pay his debts, which obviously consisted only of electricity, water, gas and phone because the man had no idea that there was a device in his house that spit out internet, apparently only his next door neighbor knew this. Buck tells Sam how he thought his router was an alien device and how he thought his neighbor was a KGB agent coming to kill him. "Relax Buck we all have undesirable neighbors that steal our internet signal sometimes", well undesirable is not the word I would use to describe her but ok.

When Sam finally explains to him how to connect his computer to the internet, Bucky can finally see the name that his wonderful co-worker, not friend, because he could never be friends with someone so stupid as to think that the name "THE WIFILCON AND THE WINTER ROUTER" was a good name.

- "my god Sam, you're such an asshole!"-

-"HEY! That's a great name!"- Sam responds with as much indignation as possible, he's the best at naming everything from dogs to wifis.

- "I can't believe you're Captain America, I can't believe we're even friends"- Bucky really can't understand his luck to have friends, well, co-workers whatever.

- "Well excuse me but we're co-workers..."-

- "Well, take this call as my formal resignation, bye"-

-"Wait a minute Buck..."- Bucky ended the call, to finish -his self-imposed- punishment of listening to Sam Wilson talk for over an hour. At least I asked him how to use the bank's website to pay for the internet. Suddenly, without warning and without explanation, the memory of his neighbor is lodged in his head, her hair in a ponytail, her reading glasses, pink shorts, her sweater from some university of which he can't even remember the name because he was watching out for other things... that she wouldn't kill me obviously, he was watching out that she wouldn't pull a knife out of her back and kill me right there. The message on his laptop indicating that he can now set a new name and password to his wifi distracts him enough to stop thinking about his sweet and cute non-spy neighbor and how she would look with her hair down and her glasses off.

Still with the sweet feeling in his chest and the desire to see her again he writes as the new name of the wifi, while laughing:

"If you want free internet, you owe me at least one free dinner"

After paying the internet debt and closing the laptop, Bucky gets up hoping to find something edible in the kitchen, while leaning over to look inside his fridge and analyzing how bad it would be to eat a fried egg with pasta and sriracha, he hears again a knock on the door, but this time it does not cause Bucky the anguish and anxiety that caused him the first time, but quite the opposite.

-"Open the door Winter Router! I prepared chicken pot pie for dinner"-.