#Do all roofs need air vents?

[srsroofingcanada]

Are Roof Ventilation Caps necessary in Vancouver 2024?

Roof vents are essential for proper ventilation, which is the movement of air through a system of intake and exhaust. This process is vital for extending roof life, reducing energy expenses, and managing indoor temperature fluctuations. But you might wonder, are roof vent caps necessary for this system to work effectively? Are roof ventilation caps necessary in Vancouver in 2024? This is a question that homeowners often ask.

Understanding Roof Vents

Roof ventilation caps are the most eye-catching part of a home in Vancouver, but they play a role as vital as the foundation beneath your walls. Subtly integrated into the roofline, these vents ensure the continuous flow of air through your attic and living spaces.

Available in various forms, each type of roof vent serves a specific function. Whether it’s the static box vent resembling a watchtower or the streamlined ridge vents running along the roof’s peak, their shared goal is to let out warm, stale air from the attic. This helps regulate temperature and control moisture, preventing issues like mold growth and wood decay.

Roof vents are just as crucial in winter, helping to balance the attic’s temperature to avoid ice dams. These ice ridges can form near gutters, causing water to back up under shingles, potentially leading to leaks and damage.

How Roof Ventilation Function

Roof ventilation caps rely on airflow to maintain a stable attic environment, preventing overheating and moisture buildup in Vancouver 2024. There are two key ways to create airflow: mechanical methods, which require power, and natural methods, which utilize the stack and wind effects.

Stack Effect: Warm air rises in the attic, creating high pressure at the top, which needs an outlet, or exhaust, to escape. At the same time, cooler air, known as the intake, must enter to balance the pressure.

Wind Effect: Wind blowing against the roof increases the movement of air, enhancing intake and exhaust. Read more...

[lavenderfilledcoffin]

quo vadis

latin

where are you going?

tags: depiction of mutilation, gore—sebastian basically kills you but in a disturbing way, all in all—dont read if you have a sensitive heart.

•*¨*•.¸¸♪✧•*¨*•.¸¸

“Do you think we��re soulmates in every universe?” You absentmindedly asked, staring at the ceiling that was adorned in paper stars.

Oh, how you loved those stars.

You enjoyed stargazing before your life went to shit, it was an everyday ritual of yours.

It was a pleasant surprise when Sebastian told you to cover your eyes and lay down on the cold floor.

“Just trust me, lay down.” You could hear a smile in his voice, so you chose to trust him.

You settled into a comfortable position, letting your body relax.

“Open your eyes now.” And you did. The ceiling was filled with all sorts of stars that were made with paper and pencil.

“You… remembered?”

“Of course I did.” He laid down next to you, rolling his tail up so that it wouldn’t be in your way.

“In every universe? Of course! I don’t see it any other way.” He interlocked his fingers with yours. No matter how many times he does it, it still makes your face heat up.

“Pinky promise?”

“Pinky promise.”

You smile at the reassurance, closing your eyes and letting yourself fall into a peaceful slumber.

Sebastian didn’t notice it until he heard soft snores next to him.

“You’re hopeless, I love you.” Sebastian whispered before reaching his free hand up to his lure, flicking it down to let the room be consumed in darkness.

When you awoke, Sebastian was nowhere to be seen. There was a mild ache in your back from sleeping on the hard floor, but your main focus was looking for Sebastian.

After sitting up, you crawled towards the vent’s opening.

You peeked your head out, the doors were closed, and it was silent.

You knew it was a bad idea, you did, but your curiosity got the better of you.

He told you to never leave his hideout without him. He was afraid of you getting hurt.

With a slight push, you were out of the vent. The air seemed thick, thicker than when you made your way through these halls the first few times.

You decided to go to the doors that were in descending order, figuring that it would be pointless for Sebastian to go through the newer doors.

It was lonely. Sebastian wasn’t here to distract you from the horrors down here, it was scary, almost.

You shook the thoughts away, continuing on.

You found data scattered throughout the levels, how did he miss them?

You shoved as many vials and usb sticks into your pockets as you could since you didn’t bring a bag.

Shit.

You had no proper protection.

Oh, well. At least the creatures down here could be easily countered.

You passed through at least seven doors, and yet, there was no sign of Sebastian.

You were starting to grow more and more paranoid, would it be too late to turn back?

No, keep pushing. You needed to see him.

You could hear your heartbeat in your ears, and cold sweat made your clothing cling to your body uncomfortably.

You heard quiet footsteps behind you, thank goodness Sebastian was here.

He didn’t have legs though.

You turned around with a relieved smile, but that was quickly wiped off of your face as you were met with what you assumed to be an Urbanshade guard.

Shit.

“Hands. Up.” He pointed his gun straight at your face.

Your anxiety was through the roof. You had no choice but to comply with his demand.

You held your hands up, the weight of your selfish actions could be described as a pressing weight on your chest.

“You little brat. The company knew something was up when your PDG was rendered destroyed.” He continued on, his grip on his gun tightening ever so slightly. “Don’t think we don’t know about Z-13 at door 50.“ Your eyes widened at the mention of your beloved’s code name.

“You will come with me.” He walked towards you, the gun never lowering.

Your body felt heavy. This was all your fault, wasn’t it?

The guard got behind you. He holstered his gun and grabbed your arms harshly enough to make you wince.

“Shut up.” He cuffed your wrists together. The cold metal felt uncomfortable, and the cuffs were adjusted a little too tight.

He grabbed his gun again, pointing it at your head. “Walk.”

So you did.

Thoughts were running rampant in your mind. Where was Sebastian? Was he okay? Were you going to die? Will you ever see him again?

You were trying your best to hold back tears. You felt so helpless, you hated it.

The numbers on the doors got smaller and smaller. Would it be so bad to let him kill you right then and there?

A loud yell was heard behind the two of you, the guard turned around, leaving you with an opportunity.

You kicked the guard’s legs with your dominant leg, causing him to fall on his back.

You ran.

“You little bitch, get back—“

His words were cut off, but you didn’t stop. You ran as far as you could, trying to stay balanced.

Adrenaline. That’s all that was keeping you going. You had passed through three doors, and you felt your muscles ache.

You knew you should have worked out more.

You tripped on your own feet, landing face first onto the cold, smooth, concrete floor.

Harsh winces escaped from your throat, you lifted your face up to see blood on the once greyish-white floor. It must be from your nose.

Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t get up as your hands were cuffed.

You felt so pathetic. You couldn’t save yourself.

Whatever had gotten the guard was about to get you, too.

It came into the room, ripping the door off of the hinges and coming near you.

It flipped you over, and you saw Sebastian.

He was covered in blood. He didn’t look anything like the Sebastian you knew.

The Sebastian who would hold you close at night.

The Sebastian who would company you on small scavenges.

Bloodlust was all that you saw in his eyes.

Before you could even speak, he began to attack you.

His claws dug into your chest, and he harshly pulled them out, leaving deep cuts in your chest. “Sebastian—!” You cried out, he couldn’t hear you, could he?

His head dipped down towards your arm, and he bit your bicep.

He bit your bicep.

His razor sharp teeth easily tore through your skin, hitting your bone.

The noises of your bones being crunched made you cringe. The pain wasn’t registering yet.

The flesh that once protected your arm was now being chewed by Sebastian.

Your beloved was about to eat you alive.

In a desperate attempt to make him stop, you screamed, loudly.

The high pitched noise snapped him out of it.

The darkness that clouded his eyes was now gone.

His sworn spouse.

The person he ‘married’.

Sebastian ate their flesh.

He felt nauseous.

How were you even conscious?

Sebastian’s eyes met your half-lidded ones.

Poor Sebastian.

It wasn’t his fault, right?

He didn’t mean to.

No, he just wanted to protect you.

Sebastian weakly called your name.

Your breathing was labored, your hand was weakly clutching at your chest where blood quickly seeped out of, and your head was lolling back due to the lack of strength in your body.

It felt like you were high. You could feel your body tingle, trying its best to keep you conscious.

Sebastian cradled your body in his arms, fat tears falling from all of his eyes. “[Name]… Nononono. This isn’t—happening?! Don’t go. Please. Please stay with me.”

It was hard to make out what he was saying, you couldn’t hear him properly, nor could you speak in the current state that you were in.

The pain was hitting you at full speed now.

You cried.

All you could do was weakly cry. Your body was messed up beyond comprehension, there was no way that you were going to survive this.

Every breath was agony. Every inhale felt like needles were being inserted into your chest.

Sebastian just watched. He couldn’t reverse what just happened.

He was powerless. He couldn’t save you. Not this time.

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Surprise | Soap x Reader

Summary: After a mission that they barely survived, Ghost leads the team to a safe place to stay, his half-sister’s apartment.

Word Count: ~ 1.6k

Warnings: mentions of death, blood, missiles, etc

A/N: first time writing for cod…hope you enjoy, lmk what to do for part 2!! (also here is what I had in mind for the apartment layout, if you’re like me and can’t picture buildings in your head)

Requests are open!

Masterlist | Next

Their mission had gone to complete shit.

It had started relatively simple compared to the other missions they’d been doing, with Russians, cartels, Mexican forces, and whatnot. They’d been shipped out to America, a suspected terrorist group that had been working for General Barkov when he’d been killed.

A group that had now gone rogue, and rumor was that they were headed to Britain, holding a missile for transport that had been stolen from a covert American base. The Americans weren’t taking it too well, but that was to be expected.

“We don’t have enough information to know who they are, you just need to get that missile transported, and get out of there.” Laswell had told them.

“Sounds easy compared to what we do every mornin’, right Lt?” Soap had said with a grin, nudging him with an elbow slightly, and he had only given a grunt in response, still processing information.

“Easy” his arse.

Sent to one of the states at first, they’d tracked down this supposed terrorist group, apparently it being a lot larger than they originally expected. A lot larger.

It was only because of the intel Gaz had gotten his hands on that they’d been able to locate the missile while it moved, it being located in a broken-down warehouse near Galveston, Texas. Right near the Gulf of Mexico, if they were planning on taking it to sea to travel with it.

And when they’d stormed the warehouse?

A total mess. Unorganized and sloppy.

Soap had blown the door, and they’d planted charges around to detonate for the men guarding the missile but had underestimated just how many there would be. It was crawling with them, more confirmation that they’d been informed somehow beforehand of Task Force 141.

Men in vents, ceiling panels, underneath desks, and hiding behind cabinets, doors, anything.

The missile had only been taken out because of air support, the same air support that had nearly been shot down and taken out, when a heli had finally come in to reprieve them while snatching that missile up and getting the hell out of there.

That didn’t solve the problem of the men everywhere, though. The charges that had been meant to blow some to pieces had been botched, and with all the gunfire, they would attract unwanted attention. Police were already investigating, conveniently turning a blind eye to Price and the rest of his force. It wasn’t a coincidence. Not when Shepherd had a history of paying people off to keep them quiet.

But that wasn’t their problem, right now, Ghost was trying to devise a way to get them the hell out of America, or at least out of goddamn Texas. Of all the places to be stuck in.

“Laswell, where the hell is our exfil?”

He radioed over, crouched down on the roof of a building, taking out whoever he could from it. Many of the men in the terrorist group weren’t a bad shot either, so he decided to keep his head relatively low.

“Negative, Ghost.” Price’s voice responded.

“The hell does that mean?”

“We aren’t leaving. Too many men still here, Kate wants us keeping eyes on ‘em.”

“Bloody fucking hell..”

They had decided to regroup at an old church down the road, Soap was a little banged up, with more than a few cuts and bruises, and Gaz dealing with a minor head injury he’d gotten when someone had tried to smash his skull in with a gun, and Price donning a decent sized cut to the arm.

“This is a covert mission. We can’t stay at a hotel or anything of the like, so where are we going?” Gaz asked, and Price paused for a moment, looking a bit unsure, which made sense considering this had been a get-in-get-out mission before it had changed. Before he could open his mouth to speak, Ghost spoke.

“I know someone, but they’re a long ways away.”

~ 3:48 A.M.~

A knock that was more like a banging on your door woke you up from your light sleep as you quietly sat up in your bed, standing and tiptoeing over to the front door of your spacey apartment.

It was large, for the price. But considering you were working for the landlord at a local restaurant, as he was the general manager there as well, it made sense.

The apartment held two spare bedrooms, and a nice living room connected to a kitchen with a table in it you liked using. Two bathrooms, one in the hallway where your room was in, another connected to a guest bedroom. A little balcony, which came in handy when one of your friends wanted a smoke break when over at your place.

Palming the closed hunting knife still connected to your pants and hanging loosely, you figured you were safe enough to answer the door, and looking through the peephole, you saw four men.

Military, and the one in the Ghost mask…

Opening the door, your face now annoyed, you stared him dead in the eye. Didn’t even glance at the others.

“We need a place to stay. A month or two at most.”

His low and rough voice, donning a British accent, said. It was louder than you remembered him being, but then again, he wasn’t the scared little Simon that you’d known anymore, scared of the abusive father you’d both shared. He wasn’t the Simon who mumbled or spoke quietly anymore.

A silent conversation passed between you two at the door, a thick silence passing over the entire group. The other men stared. Your eyes narrowed, a nonverbal question.

Are you on a mission?

He didn’t move for a moment, no doubt thinking of the information he could share with you. Another reason for your eventual fallout, the fact that he wouldn’t ever share with you anything if what he did. It was always to keep you safe.

Eventually, he gave a tiny, near imperceptible nod. On a mission. Of course, he would come to you while on a mission, dragging you into it. It wasn’t like you were helpless against attackers, not at all, but they’d had some crazy shit happen to them over the years, and that was just from what you’d overheard.

With a resigned sigh, you looked over at the other men he’d brought.

A taller man, with a beard, and a bucket hat. He looked like he had authority. A man on the shorter end, with some scruff, a mohawk, and a poorly restrained cheeky smile. The last man was darker, an almost caramel brown, with short hair, cleanly shaven, and a hat on.

Military men, clearly, but if Simon was willing to trust them around you, then you didn’t count them much as a threat right now.

“Names.”

You said flatly, and the Mohawk-one’s brows raised before replying.

“You can call me Soap-“

“I mean your name, not your shitty military nickname.”

You interrupted bluntly, clearly not in the best mood after being woken at 3 AM because of Simon Riley. “Soap” raised his hands in a mock gesture of innocence.

“Easy, lass. It’s Johnny, if you must know.”

Scottish, then. You could tell by the accent. The taller one spoke.

“John Price.”

The prettiest of the group spoke with a little smile that could’ve fooled you for not being faked.

“Kyle.”

Giving them all one last flat, surveying look, you jerked your head into the apartment, walking in.

“Two guest bedrooms down that way, bathrooms down the hall, there’s a balcony if you want a second exit. Don’t break anything.”

You said simply, and they walked in, looking tired as hell and covered in bandages. However, you weren’t going to let this go. Not right now.

You grabbed Simon by the arm, and he stiffened, stopping.

“You and I are going to have a little talk, Simon.” You said, dragging him into your room, and shutting the door behind you as he sighed, pulling his mask off. Blond hair and lashes came into view, as well as baby blue eyes.

“What the fuck were you thinking, bringing-“

You began, pissed as hell. He hadn’t contacted you in years, not since his mom had died, and with your shared father already dead, you’d been shoved into foster care.

“We’re all injured. We can’t stay anywhere we can be easily found. This area isn’t as well registered, and we’ll be gone in a month.” He spoke simply as if it wasn’t anything to get upset or emotional about.

You took a breath and breathed it out. Stay calm.

“I’m not talking about the mission, Simon.”

He seemed unused to being called his real name. At least, by the stiffening of his shoulders, you guessed so.

“There’s nothing else to talk about.”

He said gruffly, turning to open the door and leave. You stepped in his way, and he stared down at you, unamused. You were barely 5’6, and he was 6’2, so it was quite the height difference.

“You can’t run from your problems forever, Simon.”

You said, hands on your hips, and he simply picked you up, placing you beside him as he opened the door and walked out. Always running from his problems.

It was surprisingly unsurprising.

~ 4:07 A.M.~

“You want to explain who the hell that is, Simon?”

Price asked gruffly from where they were all gathered in one of the guest rooms. Simon paused his quiet pacing for a moment to reply.

“My half-sister.” He answered, and a silence fell over at that. The only sibling they knew he had was Tommy, and Tommy was long dead at that. A few seconds passed, before Soap, in the bathroom connected to this particular guest room, combing his Mohawk and going through his haircare routine, spoke up.

“She’s a real bonnie lass.” Johnny said with a grin, and Simon sighed.

“English, MacTavish.”

“She’s hot as fuck, sir.” The Scotsman said, and there was a small, disappointed sigh from Gaz, who already knew he’d have to patch up Soap from Ghost, who was fuming silently.

[mikkomacko]

Dad!Nico x Reader

A/n: For all my Devs fans that need some soft thoughts tonight 🫶

————————————————————

Thinking about Jersey Leeds Nico coming home from the game tonight all head hung low and droopy eyes.

Jersey is already asleep, the two of you having left the arena early tonight in order to keep her sleep schedule going smoothly.

Nico finds you in the bedroom, dragging his feet until he’s in the doorway and you look up from where you’re doing laundry on the bed to his sad pleading eyes watching you.

“Oh come here my darling,” you coo, immediately holding out your arms for him. Nico curls into you, lets you hold him as he just sags under the weight of the season. You coax him into the bathroom, peeling him out of his suit and shoes with tender fingers before running him a bath.

Nico pouts as he lays in the warm water, feeling pathetic with you sitting on the tile floor beside the tub. Stroking through his over grown hair, you don’t push him to speak and instead allow him to wallow and sink into that empty feeling in his tummy.

A moment passes, the baby monitor on the counter crackles and Nico glances over at it with wet eyes.

“She’s fine,” you assure him, but he knows that. Jersey’s developing the habit of babbling in her sleep and it always disturbs the monitor.

“I’m sad,” Nico finally mumbles. “Wanted a cup for the team, for her, for you . . . M’just pouting in a bathtub now.”

You don’t say anything, just let him speak. By the way his gaze has unfocused you know he’s just venting his thoughts, the things he couldn’t say to media today.

“Last year was the best year of my life. We were good, I was playing and feeling good. Jersey, god don’t get me started on Jersey. She deserves so much better-“

Frowning, you cup his jaw and make him look at you. “Jersey loves her daddy,” you insist “she’s so proud of you and loves watching you play. There’s always set backs Nico, always mistakes and failures, but you have not failed at being an amazing father to our daughter.”

Blinking softly, Nico sniffles and nods, pressing into your palm. “I want to see her,” he tells you “but I don’t want to wake her.”

Shrugging, you get up and motion for him to get out of the tub. You wrap him up in a towel, draining the water while he dries off and slips on some boxers and shorts.

Then, on careful tiptoes you sneak into the nursery where Jersey’s little snores are filling the air. The ballerina nightlight casts silhouettes of dancers and bows on the roof and walls, bathes the room in a peaceful glow.

Nico sneaks up beside her crib, grips the side of it in his hands and peers down at her. You press into his side, an arm around him to rub up and down his bare back.

Jersey is sleeping peacefully, thick eyelashes brushing her cherub cheeks and her lips quiver as she coos little noises to herself.

“That’s your fault,” you whisper fondly “all those bedtime nonsense stories when she was in my belly and now she can’t sleep without talking.”

That empty part in him shrinks, fills up with the love swelling in his heart. Everyday she gets bigger and bigger, and with that his adoration and devotion to being her father grows with it.

A year later and she’s his proudest accomplishment. And he thinks that no amount of Stanley Cups, goals, medals or playoffs appearances can ever top that.

Nico Hischier didn’t win on the ice this season, but he won at everything else.

[redflagshipwriter]

Young Lovers shot by Cupid ch 3

(Damian/Danny dpxdc fic, Damian and Stephanie buddy cop fic)

Masterpost

Brown was a somewhat agreeable partner to travel with when she was not aiming to irritate him. She made no side trips, unexpected stops, and she certainly did not feel the need to show off world-class acrobatics when they were aiming for speed.

Begrudgingly, Damian admitted to himself that she was not entirely terrible. The revelation that she felt some competitive spirit in regards to Drake was good information. That could improve their working relationship considerably. Perhaps he would allow her more grace.

They arrived at the mall in short order.

They looked up the blueprint from outside and quietly conferred on a plan. The large building was closed, dark, and quiet. There was a single security office, and it seemed that the mall did not employ anyone overnight. Damian pried open a vent on the roof and slipped inside silently. Brown was at his heels a moment later. She hit the ground with a soft tap of her boots.

Imperfect, but excusable, Damian generously allowed.

The office itself was a damp little nest of filing cabinets with a lingering and unpleasant aroma of popcorn butter and coffee. Damian wrinkled his nose through the task of sorting their security tapes.

The food court tapes from yesterday had already been removed, labeled, and put away.

Unfortunately, they were literal tapes. Damian huffed in disbelief at the bulky VHS units.

“Holy moly,” Brown muttered. “I thought the old man was the only person who still used these.”

Indeed.

Damian suppressed a sigh. “I think it unwise to linger here and watch all the footage,” he said, but he hesitated to take them. It would have been much better if they could simply make a copy. But these? Impossible. Wasn’t it?

…Batman would know. Damian crossed his arms unhappily. The oldest members of the family would hold this knowledge. “You are too young to know these devices?” he confirmed.

Brown huffed a little laugh. “Yeah, but how hard can it be?” She tapped at the likeliest tape with a gloved finger. “There has to be a way to make copies. We can look it up. But we could just watch here. You know what time the incident was, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Damian admitted begrudgingly. “But it would be optimal to watch the entire day’s footage to ensure that nothing else happened.”

Brown blew out air between her lips. “Alrighty then.” She dug out her nightphone and apparently started searching for tutorials.

Between the two of them, they managed it. They slipped away with two recorded tapes. They made a detour to deposit them in Spoiler’s bike storage before returning to their patrol. In between normal activities, they quietly debate their next challenge: watching the tapes. Obviously, Batman was the only person in the world paranoid enough to retain such ancient technology. They needed to use his equipment. But how to do it without being seen? It was kept in the entertainment room closest to Father’s bedroom, so that he could watch his childhood favorites if the nostalgic urge struck. He occasionally did so as background noise for filling out paperwork.

“The easiest time would be when he’s at work,” Brown recapped thoughtfully. “But there isn’t much of a window between when we get free from school and when he could come home from work. It would take weeks to watch it all that way even once, and by then Valentine’s Day would have passed.”

Damian made a tsk of disgust. It was true. Unfortunately, the fastest way to draw attention to their operation would be to forgo school. That would invite scrutiny from Pennyworth.

“Oh look, a carjacking.” Brown threw herself off the building and screeched like a bat as she fell. The sound rang out and echoed across the cold, dark streets.

It was a bloodcurdling sound. The guilty man looked up with amusingly wide eyes and a pale face. Damian suppressed an amused snort and came down in silence at a different angle.

After they had apprehended the fool and left him with a stern warning to follow the law or else face the pain of losing a hand, the two returned to the skies.

“That was pretty metal,” Brown said, in a tone of ardent admiration.

Damian cast a look back at the building they had been passing. He hadn't noticed anything in particular. To what was she referring? The window grates? Something inside the windows? He chose not to respond other than with a grunt.

Brown laughed again.

He ignored her harder and channeled his tenseness into an unnecessary flip before landing. He stood and put his hands on his hips as he surveyed the city. “Your Mother is frequently at work while you are imprisoned in school.”

“...Yes.” Brown cocked her head to the side.

He nodded briskly. “You will give me a disease,” Damian instructed. “Of course you may not malaise without supervision. You must come to the manor.”

“Oh, fake a sick day or two,” Brown breathed. She clasped her hands together. “You're becoming such a real boy, d’you know that?”

“Tt.” Damian turned away with disgust so that he did not have to see Spoiler bouncing on her heels.

“Alright, symptoms. Can't argue with diarrhea!”

He cringed hard.

“There's a good reason for no one else to see it,” Spoiler justified. “We can't fake a fever. We could maybe manage clamminess, red eyes, etc.” She paused. “But honestly, the two of us being sick at the same time would go a long way to convince, since we have a history of antagonism.” He could see her make a face under her mask. “Tonight could work against us for that.”

Damian nodded. “We will have to invent a conflict,” he said. He immediately started picking through their patrol for a premise.

She blew a raspberry. “Nah, adding details gives them something to unpick,” she said.

He was struck by the unwelcome realization that she was not wholly unintelligent. His mouth felt glued shut.

“I'll just go back in a bad mood, make a couple faces and sigh loudly once,” Spoiler said airily. “You put on your little thundercloud face and storm away, give crisp answers to anyone who asks if there's something wrong.”

“...And in the morning, I will sleep in,” Damian said. “Past my alarm. Pennyworth will note it as a matter of concern. I will get ready for school.”

“I'll call and ask if I can malaise at the Manor, since my mom is at work and she's worried,” Brown continued easily. “Alfred will put two and two together and tell you to stay home.”

Damian hesitated. “I think that if you had given me some low-class disease,” he started.

She cut him off with a lifted hand. “You get that illness isn't a class related thing, right?” She huffed. “Maybe you got me sick with your elementary school germs. Little kids are disgusting.”

…His peers were upsettingly unhygienic. He gritted his jaw.

Still, he had his self respect to maintain.

“I would never pass a contagious disease,” Damian vowed. He had too much self discipline for that. “The origin must be you.”

She hummed.

“Robin and Spoiler, you two are closest to Red Hood. Care to lend a hand?”

The two straightened into professional posture that Damian didn't remember leaving. “What's the situation?” Brown asked.

“He shook a bush and a lot of creepy crawlies flew out,” Oracle drawled. “Danger is minimal, but containment is impossible with one. Dropping coordinates.”

The next hour was spent dragging dregs of a gang from Bloodhaven out of dumpsters and other such crannies in order to escort them to city limits. They were aurally assaulted by Todd’s idea of a motivational speech and his puerile territorialism. “Stay out or I'll cut your hands off and sew them onto your ankles, blah blah.”

Damian tuned it out. Mother had truly wasted her time on him. He was so dramatic.

The rest of the night went as planned. He and Brown returned to the cave in a pointed silence, wrote professional reports, and stalked to their respective showers without exchanging a word.

He went to his room and picked up his alarm clock. Perhaps he ought to adjust the time?

‘No. If Pennyworth is passing and does not hear it at the usual time, he will note the irregularity.’

Damian willed himself to sleep. When the alarm did go off, it took his finely honed discipline to turn the machine off and then lie back down in bed. It was… uncomfortable. he laid there stiffly, looking at the ceiling.

He forced his eyes to shut. He matched his breathing to a pattern for sleep. And he waited to see how long it would take for someone to notice that he had slept in.

His punishment for childhood began at 8 am and released the prisoners at 3 pm. Therefore, he habitually awoke at 6:30 am. After an agonizing wait Damian peeled open an eye to see that the time was 7:12.

…It was past the time that he would normally have arrived at the breakfast table. He weighed if he wished to hurry downstairs or let Pennyworth come to check on him.

Something felt like a rock in his stomach. Damian sat up and put a hand to it, frowning at the sensation. What was this? When he had thought about his actions causing Pennyworth to abandon his post and trek up a flight of stairs the odd feeling had emerged.

There was a knock on his door. Damian's head shot up as it opened. Pennyworth peered in and his eyebrows went up slightly at the sight of Damian still abed. “Good morning, Master Damian,” he greeted.

“I apologize.” Damian took the hand off of his stomach and all but leapt to his feet. “I have- overslept. I will be but a moment.” He paused, genuinely flustered. “Good morning, Pennyworth.”

“Your breakfast is ready,” Pennyworth said mildly. “Excuse me.” He closed the door.

Damian raced through the bare minimum of his routine and pulled on a school uniform. He made it to the kitchen at 7:20. He faintly heard a phone ring in the other room. His heart gave just one undisciplined leap. Was it Brown, telling their story?

Drake was slouched halfway over the table, cradling a hard-boiled egg in his hands. An otherwise empty plate had been pushed into the center of the table. He had kicked his chair out quite far and was leaning directly forward, his entire upper body on the wood. He contemplated the depths of the egg with a wrinkled brow and eyes halfway hidden under bangs.

Damian edged around Drake to his seat, careful to avoid physical contact.

“You're late,” Drake said to the egg.

Perhaps it was his egg, Damian thought snidely. He was an oversized duck, was he not? Perhaps he had laid that egg and that was why it was so fascinating to him.

“Oy,” Drake drawled. He sniffled as he turned to look at Damian. “What's wrong with you? Forget a project?”

“Do not be foolish,” Damian forbade. He picked up his silverware and set it on his breakfast.

Drake regarded him for a long time. “Are you sick?”

…Why did he think so?

“No, I am not,” Damian snapped back, before he could think better of it. Perhaps he ought to have let Drake establish his alibi.

“I don't know, you look kinda off,” Drake said. He let the hand cradling his egg hit the table and he squinted.

“Master Timothy,” Pennyworth said.

Damian did not jump.

“Ms. Brown has just called to say that she's quite under the weather. I will be retrieving her shortly. How is your condition?”

Drake sat up. “I'm fine, Alfred,” he said formally. Then he blinked. “I think Damian is sick.”

He bristled. “You will bite your tongue,” Damian snapped back. “I am- I am no such thing.”

He could see the moment they both decided that he was, in fact, too ill for school. That was the goal: but he could not accept it calmly. They would assume he was on death’s welcome mat. Therefore he hissed and protested and derided Brown’s name with only a distant smidgeon of guilt.

But eventually, Damian was ushered to a quiet and dark room to wait while Pennyworth informed the day prison that Damian would be absent from Geology, Geometry, and all manner of vile variations on how one might ensure misery for a lone intellectual in a flood of brainless oafs.

Success.

Brown was delivered and managed to appear in the same room that Damian had been consigned to. She had managed to contrive an unusually poor condition of her normally lustrous hair. That, combined with shapeless clothes and smudged eye makeup, served to make her appear quite terrible indeed.

“You look terrible,” Damian told her, because she had done a good job.

A muscle twitched visibly under her eye.

“Is Bruce gone yet?” She asked.

Damian shook his head. “He will leave at 9:30.”

Brown sucked on her lower lip for a moment and wiggled into the crack of the sofa cushions. “I think we should go to his VHS room before he leaves, so when he notices someone was in there he doesn't see a reason to investigate.”

Damian shook his head minutely. “No. He will take the opportunity to spend the day with his ailing children and watch his favorite childhood show. We will have no opportunity to watch the security footage.”

“Not his kid,” Brown muttered. “But you're right. The chance is too high.” She let her head hit the back of the sofa. “That would be a good way to spend a real sick day, I think.”

Was she wistful?

Damian eyed her in bewilderment. Was she aching for bonding time with Father?

“I shall inform him that you want to watch his detective show at a later date,” he decided generously.

[blubushie]

10am and back on my bullshit in light of Recent News.

So I'm gonna bitch about Sniper's camper a little (such as things it realistically would and would not have), and explain some things!

...While using Tilly of course. Camper anatomy course!

For comparison, this is Sniper's camper.

Now, for my issues and corrections with this...

The biggest thing that I notice in canon camper is the extreme lack of windows. Sniper's camper, given the timeline, would be a 60s-era model. Most 60s-era campers did not have air conditioning as their roofing wasn't strong enough to support the weight of an aircon. As you can see by looking at the roof of the camper, his does not have aircon. To make up for the lack of this, you need AIRFLOW or the camper becomes a dangerously high-heat oven. This means his camper would have multiple windows with flywire, not vents, to allow for airflow, and also a greater number of windows than is on the canon model. I will note that the venting front nook window is pretty cool though, and I've never seen one.

Sniper's camper would probably not have a shower, as there's not enough room for one. See how little it hangs off the tailgate? It has a toilet though. ALL campers that hang off the tailgate like that have a toilet. Also, despite Sniper's camper defo having a bathroom, it lacks a bathroom vent for some reason.

Sniper's camper lacks jacks?? I assume this is an oversight due to modelling reasons for SFM, and not that he took the jacks off. The jacks are necessary for maintenance purposes.

The tops of campers are always flat and I don't know why his Does That. I'm deciding it's stylistic reasons cuz otherwise he wouldn't be able to get in bed.

On that note—Sniper has a queen-size bed. I know it doesn't look like one, but trust me, that's a queen-size bed. No I don't care about the internal model that they never planned for anyone to see. It might be a bit cramped in the length department because he's a tall cunt, and it might be a bit cramped in the height department (there's not even a metre of headspace off the bed), but it's not cramped in the "If I roll in any one direction I will fall out" department, I assure you.

I'm not gonna fuss about the water fill hole or the heater or nothing, or the lack of LPG signage. I assume the lack of them is the same reason as the lack of jacks.

Ok, now for some general notes for people who don't know much about campers...

Campers from this era are entirely powered off the vehicle they're attached to. There's something called a pigtail, basically a long bundle of wire, that connects the truck to the camper and provides power, lights, etc. Some modern campers have space, usually under the sink, for a car battery to attach so you can power the camper off a separate battery without the use of a vehicle, but all campers from this era are powered by car battery through the pigtail only. THIS MEANS THAT IF YOU RUN YOUR BATTERY TOO OFTEN YOU WILL BE STRANDED AS YOUR CAR WILL NOT START. Ever leave your headlights on? A lot of people would get around this by using deep-cycle batteries (which are rechargeable), and they usually kept a spare. Or two. Some vehicles, like the Ford Camper Special line, allowed room for two car batteries in the engine bay to specifically get around this. Ideally one battery would be your starter, and the other would be a deep-cycle that everything ran off of. This would prevent you from draining your car's battery, and as deep cycle batteries recharge while you're driving, this works great. Other people (like me) use deep-cycles ONLY, and recharge the batteries by cycling them out as needed.

To use your stove you have to go outside, open the LPG panel, turn the valve on your propane tanks until it's loose, then go back inside, wait a few minutes, turn on the propane ON THE STOVE, and then light your pilot light (if you have a pilot light, most campers from this era do not) or light your burners individually. When you're done cooking or wharever, you have to go back outside and turn off your propane. If you do not do this your propane will leak while you drive.

You have to turn on the water by turning on the water pump, this requires electricity. Most campers have an overhead panel somewhere near the kitchen to do this. Others have it under the sink.

Most campers can be powered without battery as long as you have an electrical source!! See the "camper city power" panel—this allows you to plug in an electrical cord directly into the camper to power it off that instead of off your truck. Downside—this requires an electrical outlet. It's really only used when a camper is home and someone is living out of it, or when someone is camped at a powered campground (like an RV park), which are extremely rare because most RV parks do not allow jack-on campers. I've only ever used this plug at home. 😅

Campers run on fuses. Given the era, Sniper's camper would probably run on old SFE glass fuses, likely 20As (mine runs on SFE-20As across the board).

There will be a part 2 to this showing the interior layout and what that's like when I get around to it later today.

[hells-wasabii]

Emm...If it's not too much trouble, can I have something((short drabble,but will be happy with headcanons too)with Rosie and Cherri please, would be grateful in advance!!!!👉👈

I also wish you luck in your endeavours and inspiration.(⁠ﾉ⁠◕⁠ヮ⁠◕⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠*⁠.⁠✧

A/N: Hey anon! no trouble at all! And thank you! I took different approaches with both characters since you didn't request anything in particular, so hopefully you'll like what i came up with!

Characters: Cherri Bomb, Rosie

Type: Drabble (Softness In Unexpected Places, Fluff)

Cherri Bomb

Cherri could be described as many things. She was boisterous and outgoing. She did what she wanted, when she wanted, taking on any repercussions head-on with a smile on her face.

She was a party girl, through and through. You had been smitten since you had first met her, and how could you not be? She was an absolute bombshell of a woman.

Clubbing was a common occurrence among your group of friends, though as of late, Angel Dust had been shacked up in the princess's new hotel or something. Cherri had often complained about it, missing her best friend.

But you had noticed that tonight was different. Partying, clubbing. They just weren't calling out to her tonight like they usually did. You recognized it for what it was. A distraction. So you grabbed her by the hand, paid your tab, and left the club with the party girl in tow. You knew exactly what to do.

You knew how she felt, of course, Angel was your friend too. You missed him just as much as she did, but what Cherri needed now was a place to think, not the numbing effects of alcohol and other intoxicants. A place to vent her woes.

And that was exactly where you took her. See, you had a spot of your own, a safe place up on the roof of your apartment overlooking Pentagram City.

The two of you didn't speak much as you sat shoulder to shoulder on the rooftop that night, you didn't have to. You knew that Cherri had been partying harder than usual lately, trying to keep her mind off of things. But you were here now together. You were here for her, something that you reminded her of with every squeeze of the hand.

"Thanks, love." She uttered softly, almost as if she was afraid that if she spoke too loudly, the peace would shatter.

You simply smiled, pressing a kiss to your girlfriend's temple. "Anytime."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Rosie

Rosie was frightening, but this went without saying. She was both an overlord and the leader of Cannibal Town, after all. The woman was a force to be reckoned with. At least, that had been what you'd heard. You had never met her before, only in passing and in the company of other demons.

When you finally officaly met the cannibal, you were lost and at a loss. As you walked the streets of Cannibal Town looking this way and that with trepidation, you could feel a pit of despair settle in your stomach. How did you even get here?

With no true destination in mind, you drew a deep breath and entered what seemed to be an empty shop. You, or at least the were promptly greeted

"Welcome to Rosie's Emporium, dear. Give me a moment and I'll be right with you." called a voice, sweet as syrup, from what you assumed to be the back room.

You were honestly surprised by the elegance of the place. Walking over to a display you marveled at the selection of items. The same voice from before called out again, clearer now. "Sorry for the wait, darling! My assistant is out for the day and- oh, I don't need to be worrying you with my problems. What can I do for you today?"

"Um, hi." You greeted. Weary still, you turned to face the demon who now stood behind the counter. Rosie was tall, and so very pretty. There was a graceful air to her, something that you had picked up on before in passing. With cautious steps, you made your way to the counter. Rosie however, skipped the greeting.

"You don't seem to be from around here darling. Oh! Are you looking to expand your palette perhaps? I have a wonderful selection to choose from for first-time foodies!"

"Ah, no.. sorry. I'm actually kinda lost-" You barely had been able to get the words out of your mouth before her sharpened grin widened. She clasped her hands together as she rounded the counter to stand before you.

"Oh, my! That's not good! I tell you what, dear. Give me a moment to wrap this delivery up and I'll help you find your way."

And help you she did. She even gave you a tour of the town. It had been an absolute delight. Conversation with the woman came easy, and any unease that you might have had before melted away. You learned about the town and those who inhabited it.

You really hadn't expected her to be as sweet as she was. As ironic as it may sound, you might have gotten a taste for Cannibal Town. Or at least the woman in charge. You would be sure to come back through, on purpose next time.

[n6ptunova]

concerts • matt sturniolo

a/n: first matt post!! idk how i feel abt this one but i’ll post another matt one soon hope y’all like ittt

summary: you and matt go to a dominic fike concert together.

warnings: nothing just a lil fluff? not proofread.

“guys guys guys!” you repeated, getting the triplets and madi’s attention.

“dominic fike is gonna be performing at camp flog gnaw, let’s go pleaseee,” you practically begged. dominic fike was one of your favourite artists and you knew the boys, especially matt, liked him too so there’s no way they’ll refuse.

“are you kidding? we have to go! when is it?” matt reciprocated your excitement.

“it’s this sunday, i know someone who can get us tickets on short notic-”

“oh, this sunday is the lil skies show we told you about.. a couple of our friends are going so we can’t cancel last minute sorry,” chris interrupted looking guilty that he let you down. you declined going to the lil skies show before since you don’t really listen to him.

“that’s okay, i’ll look for someone else to go with i guess,” you were kinda disappointed.

see, when you first befriended the triplets you instantly clicked with nick and chris, but matt was a little harder to crack…or maybe your crush on him made it difficult to say a word. but when the topic of music and dominic fike was brought up, that was the first time you two really bonded and it became your little thing.

one time you had a particularly bad day, you were stressed and going through a lot with your job, college and friends that you started to isolate yourself. matt noticed you hadn’t been answering his texts or hanging out with them for a while.

so without telling his brothers he drove all the way to your house, you were so embarrassed of him seeing you in this state. but all he cared about was your well-being. he sat down next to you and listened intently to your venting without interrupting. he held you in his arms and rubbed your back as you cried and let it all out. he made you feel safe and comfortable.

“get up,” he said as you calmed down. he took you by the hand and gestured for you to go to your room. confused, you furrowed your eyebrows and turned to give him a questioning look.

“wash your face and change into something comfortable, just trust me.” that was all you needed to hear as you went to do exactly what he said. once you were done, he took your hand again and led you outside to his car where he opened the passenger door for you and closed it gently after you were seated.

“where are we going?” you asked as he got adjusted in the driver’s seat.

“somewhere, anywhere, i didn’t really think this through ngl,” he giggled nervously, “but whenever i felt down, going for a drive and listening music always helped, so i thought it would help you too- this is goofy it probably won’t i’m sor-”

“that’s perfect, matt.” you smiled trying to hide the creeping blush on your face. seeing how caring and nervous he is right now made you feel giddy inside. he smiled back shyly and started the car.

you got takeout and listened to dominic fike the entire time, singing your hearts out and laughing at how awful you both sounded, at how silly you probably looked playing an air guitar, but you didn’t care. you’ve never felt so free and happy and without realizing it you were falling more and more for matt.

eventually he parked in a dark, deserted area and opened the roof of the car, “this is the best place for stargazing, it always calmed me down,” he said making you both look up at the stars.

you sat in silence for a few minutes listening to his playlist shuffle. until ‘why’ by dominic fike started playing and you both sat up straight singing and dancing along, you singing extra loud relating to the lyrics and matt admiring you, happy he got you out of your bad mood.

this was the beginning of your “little thing”, you regularly went cruising together listening to dom, and eventually it turned into you two hanging out alone more often. that’s why you wanted to go to the concert. it was your thing. but live this time.

“i’ll go with you,” matt blurted.

“you will?”

“yeah, i’ve already seen skies plenty. not passing up on this opportunity,” there was a sudden tension in the room between you two, you knew what he meant. the others remained clueless as you both shared a knowing smile.

the day of the concert you felt a bit anxious, maybe it was seeing dom for the first time, or going to a concert alone with matt, or both. it seemed like a couple-y thing to do. it also didn’t help that matt was acting like your boyfriend.

holding your hand, guiding you everywhere, placing his hand on your lower back or around your arm while squeezing past the crowd of people. he even told you you look pretty, which he never did before.

as dom opened with one of his songs you were already screaming and jumping in excitement causing matt to chuckle at how cute you were. you spent the entire time reenacting your cruising time but live in concert, singing, dancing, jumping around.

some lyrics you would sing to each other looking straight into the other’s eyes. it felt like you were the only two people there. the last song that played was ‘why’, you both shared a look remembering the first time you hung out alone. you wanted to sing along so badly but the way matt was looking at you made you forget where you were and what you were doing.

you were suddenly nervous again, he looked so beautiful with the light hitting his face, his hair messed up from jumping around, and his face flushed from how cramped it was. you wanted to kiss him so bad.

luckily, he was thinking the same thing as he slid one hand up your neck, cupping your jaw and the other on your waist and leaned in to kiss you. no one would believe you but fireworks actually started going off in that same moment almost representing how you both felt from the inside. you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him even closer deepening the kiss while he smiled against your lips relieved that you reciprocated his feelings.

as you both pulled away the song got to the more upbeat part, he held your hand and you started singing along again with a new rush of adreline running through your veins lasting the entirety of the show.

on the way home you got some food and talked about the night you had and your feelings for each other. safe to say you don’t relate to ‘why’ anymore but it’ll forever be a special song to you and matt.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Mise en Place 11

Warnings: noncon, coercion, manipulation. Proceed with caution.

Thanks all for reading and I hope you’re excited for this one. All feedback is more than welcome and loved and appreciated. Reblogs are most helpful.

Part of The Club AU

Despite your strange surroundings and the unexpected relocation, you sleep deeply. You’re more tired than you know. Battered and bruised after nights of uncertainty, it’s not entirely unexpected. Yet, you are entirely disoriented as you wake from the sludgy sleep that leaves your head aching. 

Time has passed without recollection. You have no phone to check the time but the light between the curtains assures you of the hours gone. You close your eyes again as your skull throbs. Your body hurts worse than before. This is why you didn’t want to rest, because then it would all catch up to you. 

You groan and shift onto your side. One thing at a time. You lay on your shoulder for a few minutes before you can sit up. You grunt as you do and fold over your lap. You hang over your knees and steel yourself for the inevitable. You turn to hang your legs over the edge of the bed. Almost there. 

You take a breath and let it out. Then another and another. Finally, you slide forward so your feet meet the floor. Your ribs rent as you stand, gripping your thighs to push yourself straight. You hug your middle and look around groggily. 

Your eyes threaten to roll back and you sway. You're worn to the bone. You could sleep all day but you can’t. You have to go home, figure everything out. You still need to get a new phone, somehow. 

You limp to the door and twist the handle. When it doesn’t turn all the way, you lean your weight into it. Still, it catches and you shake the door. You pull until your muscles burn, using your entire body as leverage. It won’t budge. 

You shake your head as the cloud dissipates entirely. You’re awake. Very much so. 

You press your shoulder to the door and hit it with your fist, “hey, let me out.” 

You wait and listen. The house is silent. You can only hear the vents blowing with the cool air of the AC and the gentle stir of nature outside the window. 

The window. You turn to face the room and shuffle, half-bent, across the space. You pull back the curtains and look out onto the neighbourhood. You try to lift the pane and when it doesn’t rise, you twist the lock, this way and that, but neither way gives. How... what? 

You go back to the door, tripping against it. You hit it with your open hand, “Thor!” You call as loudly as you can, “Thor! What’s going on?” 

No answer. Nothing. You don’t understand. You back up, once more returning to the window. You could break it but then what? The roof is too steep, you’d roll right off, and below, only tarmac. You could call for help. 

You turn and search the space for something to break the glass. You grab the lamp, knocking the piece of paper to the floor. You examine the heavy base and grip the body tightly. You can do this. One good hit and it will shatter. 

You pause. What if you’re overreacting? What if this isn’t something messed up? You’re not used to these windows or these doors, if you just wait... No, you’ve tried to wait out a man before. You’ve tried to give them the benefit of the doubt. That never works. 

You swing the lamp. It hits the glass so hard, you brace for the shatter. Instead, the impact sends you flying back as the lamp bounces back violently. You nearly fall over at the force of the reverberation. You fix your grasp on the lamp and near the window again.  

You look closer at the glass. It’s thick. You spread your hand across it and drop the lamp. You’re too weak. You couldn’t break it if you tried. 

You look down at the thunk of the lamp. The piece of paper lays just beside it. You bend and your body buckles at the strain. You take the sheet and turn to lean on the side of the bed as you read. 

‘Fawn. 

Do not trouble yourself much. There is some food on the desk. Should you need to relieve yourself, look to the corner. You must rest. 

I will return.’ 

You stare at the paper. You don’t understand. You lower it and slowly lift your chin. 

You stand and let the page slip free, the flutter deafening in the silence. You look at the narrow desk against the wall. You inch closer. There’s a tall glass of water, a protein bar, an apple, some nuts in a tin, and some naan rounds. The thought of eating turns your stomach. 

The corner? You peer around and in the opposite corner, nestled beside a stool, is a bucket. On the stool’s seat is a roll of toilet paper. You falter and catch yourself on the desk. 

No. This can’t be real. It’s a trap. You try to tell yourself he’ll let you go when he comes back but this is just too strange. Why would he lock you in this room? Why can’t you go out and use the bathroom? Why can’t you eat in the kitchen? 

What’s more terrifying is too think he was in this room while you were asleep. That you had no idea he was even in there. More questions flurry in your head. Ones that make you shiver.

What else don’t you know about Thor? What else are you about to find out? 

[kiddbegins]

You okay? - James Wilson

Requested: no

Word count: 1,081

Warnings: mention of death / loss (doctor losing a patient) but it’s nothing graphic

A/n: idk this idea just came to me?

Masterlist

Being a doctor wasn’t always easy. It wasn’t. No matter how many times people tell you how gratifying and wonderful it is to save lives, nobody ever goes on to tell you how horrible it is when you fail.

When you have been working with someone for any length of time but it just isn’t enough. You hardly consulted with House’s team. They weren’t in much need of a psychiatrist as much as the other main fields of study.

But one of the few times they did. You failed to help them. Well, it wasn’t your fault. The patient didn’t want to put up a fight anymore and there was nothing you or anybody could do to make them.

Nonetheless it ate at you the rest of your shift. No amount of clinic hours or helping out in the ED did anything. And it wasn’t unnoticed by anyone.

Cuddy could see you running circles around the reception desk clearly from her office, unsure of how to help you focus in and acknowledge that it wasn’t your fault. By the time she thought of something to say, you were gone.

Already trailing off to get away from all people for just a small amount of time. The roof had been that get away for you since you first got there. Something about being able to see out to the trees and see as people came in or out without being caught on your own. It was soothing.

Not to mention how quiet it was. Sure sometimes there was the buzz from the vents, either the heat or the air conditioning working overtime but usually, it was silent. Hardly able to hear the people on the ground level below.

There were only three people that knew where to find you if needed. Wilson, the first person you ever brought up there to decompress. Chase, him having followed you after a disagreement over a patient’s treatment. And House, because well, he’s House so why wouldn’t he know where every doctor disappeared to?

The door to the roof had a creak to it, which is how you knew one of those three people were coming to bother you. Or maybe someone else just needed a breather but the silhouette that stood over you was enough for you to know that that was in fact not the case.

Instead you looked up, Wilson standing over you before he took the spoke just to your left. It wasn’t shocking to you that he came and found you. That was what he did.

No matter what, if James Wilson thought you needed to talk, he was there. Something about how you bear the weight of all your patients, someone’s gotta take a bit of your load off.

It was endearing. And maybe that was why there was always a feeling of ‘maybe someday’ in the air when he was around. Or maybe that was all in your head.

Either way, when he sat next to you, you sighed, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

It was true, if you talked, you’d cry, and if you cried, he’d see and you hated crying around anyone. Not just him.

“That’s fine,” He said, his legs splayed out in front of him. Wilson didn’t mind the quiet. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t stolen your space of solitude once in a while. Usually to avoid House who somehow hadn’t put together that he’d use the rooftop too.

You shifted, pulling your knees to your chest, resting your chin on the top of your knee caps. “Thank you.” A usual sentence from your mouth to the other doctor. And one he usually brushed off.

“Don’t thank me. I’m only here so I have a reason to take a break,” He spoke. It was an obvious lie. He was there because he wanted to check on you. Wanted you to be okay.

The humorous part was just a cover up to try and keep the fact that he cared under wraps. It failed though, you seeing right through it. “Can I at least ask if you’re okay?”

His question surprised you, slightly turning your head to look at him. The way his brown eyes met yours made your heart clench and tears immediately sprout into your eyes.

You turned away, trying to cover the fact that that one simple sentence was the equivalent of a wrecking ball to a concrete wall. “I’m not.”

There was no point in lying. It was very clear from the beginning that you were not taking the loss of this case easily. It was so obvious that anybody that got a glimpse of you could tell.

Hesitantly, Wilson reached out, putting an arm over your shoulder. Things weren’t normally weird but with him he could never be sure what was okay and what wasn’t okay for a friend to do.

As soon as his arm touched you, a sob broke through your chest, the stone that brought the entire building down. With your eyes squeezed shut he shifted to pull you against him, the arm over your shoulder having the hand holding the back of your head.

The opposite was rubbing small circles onto your knee. All the while he was trying to soothe you. Quiet repeats of ‘It’s okay.’ And ‘I got you. Just breathe.’s from the man.

They were surprisingly helpful, the gentle and caring aura he always held was strong. Like it was single handedly creating a bubble around you and keeping the dark clouds of Poseidon's storms out.

Once you’d calmed some, he rested his chin atop of your head, his fingers still carding through your hair. “Did that help at all?” He muttered, waiting for a response which was only given through a slight nod as you let yourself lean against him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cry like that-“

“Are you really apologizing for crying?”

The tone of his voice made you look down slightly, only a tinge ashamed that you even thought about saying sorry for having the most human reaction to death that there was.

You wetly laughed, nodding, “I guess I was.” You muttered, “I won’t again.” You added before he could say anything about it.

Softly Wilson nodded, letting you just breathe, leaning against him. It did what he expected it would. Call you down while also giving him excuse to hold you in his arms.

Just like he always wanted to do.

JOIN WILSONS TAGLIST HERE!

Tags: @cuntyvicodin

(Also there were a couple forms filled out for Wilson/chase with no usernames? This and dejerw [can’t tag] were the only two I can see the users for)

[b1xi]

𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜

Glenn rhee x reader

word count:3927

Warning: nothing i Guess

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As soon as the car came to a screeching halt upon arriving at the camp, you jumped out of the seat before the engine even fully stopped. You didn’t wait another second. The need to see Alice was the only thing occupying your mind. Your feet barely touched the ground as you ran, completely ignoring Shane’s words as you passed by him. Your gaze was fixed on a single target: Carol, who was holding your little one in her arms.

“Damn it, turn that off!” Dale shouted from the roof of the RV, his face wrinkled in concern as the blaring horn continued to sound.

“I don’t know how!” Glenn responded, stepping out of the sports car, clearly confused by the dashboard controls.

But in that moment, nothing else mattered to you. Your entire world shrank down to the tiny arms that Alice was already extending towards you, an innocent smile on her little face. “Thank you,” you said to Carol, your voice heavy with relief as you took your little one into your arms, feeling her comforting warmth against you. “I missed you so much,” you murmured, kissing her forehead repeatedly, overcome with emotion. Each kiss you pressed to her soft skin was a confirmation that, despite all the chaos, she was okay.

“Look what I brought you!” you said with a smile. You threw the backpack on the ground and, with one hand, pulled out a small plush seat. “Do you like it?” you asked, eagerly waiting for her reaction, your heart pounding.

Alice looked at it with curiosity before smiling widely, her little hand gently stroking the soft plush with interest.

Then, you called out to Sophia, who was standing next to her mother. “Sophia, I brought something for you too,” you announced, pulling a Barbie doll out of the backpack. The box was a bit crumpled, but the girl didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes lit up when she saw the gift, and with a big smile, she took the doll from your hands.

“Thank you so much!” Sophia exclaimed, clutching her new toy as if it were a treasure, her small hands protectively holding it with care.

Carol, touched, looked at you with a warm smile as she placed a protective hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “You’re so sweet,” she softly remarked, her eyes shining with gratitude.

Finally, they managed to turn off the car horn, and the deafening noise that had been breaking the camp’s peace faded away. Amy quickly approached Glenn, her concern evident. “Is Andrea okay?” she asked anxiously.

“Yeah, everyone’s fine… except for Merle, of course,” Glenn replied, with the seriousness of someone who had just returned from hell.

Shane, however, wasn’t ready to let it go. “What were you thinking, driving this damn noisy car all the way here?” he snapped, his voice full of frustration as he leaned against the car’s hood. “Are you trying to attract walkers or what?”

"I think we’re fine," Dale interjected, his tone more relaxed, trying to ease the tension.

"Fine? You think being an idiot is fine?" Shane continued, not missing the chance to vent his anger. You knew what he was referring to, but calling Glenn that wasn’t helping anything.

Dale, always calm, raised a hand in a gesture of peace. "The alarm was active in several areas; it’s hard to pinpoint the source. I don’t want to argue, but maybe next time you should be a bit more careful," the older man suggested, firm but without direct confrontation. His comment was more for Glenn, who now looked like he was being scolded like a child.

"I’m sorry," Glenn replied, looking at the car with a mix of regret and resignation. "But at least I got a good car, right?"

Before anyone could respond, the sound of the truck bringing the others broke through the air. Everyone turned to see how the vehicle screeched to a stop, and Morales was the first to get out. Within seconds, the others followed, running to reunite with their loved ones. The scene was a balm for frayed nerves, an image of families reuniting amid the chaos.

The moment Carl ran into Rick’s arms stayed imprinted in your mind, a powerful image of what really mattered: surviving, yes, but also keeping the family together in the middle of the devastation. The two hugged with an almost desperate force, palpable relief in every shared sob. There was no sadness in their tears, only the weight of being reunited and the certainty that, at least for now, they were together.

After that moving scene, everyone returned to their activities, and the camp resumed its quiet routine. You headed back to your tent, trying to process everything that had happened, while Alice played peacefully next to you with the plush toy you’d gotten for her. Sitting on the ground, you could feel the cold of the earth seeping through the thin plastic floor of the tent.

You began unpacking the things you’d brought with you: light blankets to keep Alice warm during the cold nights, some clothes for both of you, bottles, diapers, the pacifier that soothed her so much, and a couple of personal items you had packed almost out of habit. You placed each thing carefully to the side, organizing with efficiency.

When you reached the bottom of the bag you’d been using since arriving at the camp, something caught your attention. There, crumpled and forgotten, was your old work uniform. You lifted it slowly, the thick, now worn fabric feeling strange in your hands. Why had you brought it? You didn’t know for sure. Maybe a part of you had clung to the hope that, at some point, things might return to the way they were. But hospitals no longer existed, not in this new world.

As you stared at that uniform, a lump formed in your throat. It was a symbol of a life you had left behind, of the endless night shifts, of the patients you had helped, and of a clear purpose that now felt blurred amid the chaos. Now, your purpose was to survive, to protect Alice, and to find meaning in a reality that seemed determined to take everything away from you.

You dropped heavily into the desk chair on the other side of the reception room counter. The exhaustion had built up in your muscles, as if the weight of the endless hours was finally catching up with you. A few patient papers, reports that needed filing, were scattered on the desk in front of you. You began stacking them methodically. The monotonous hum of the computer beside you was the only sound breaking the silence of the room.

“You look exhausted,” Ellith commented as she sat beside you. Her cotton jacket fell softly over the back of the chair, revealing her nurse’s uniform, a distinctive shade of purple that stood out in the muted atmosphere of the emergency room.

“Two shifts in a row,” you replied with a sigh, rubbing your face in an attempt to shake off the sleep that weighed down your eyelids. Your fingers slid across the computer screen, but the letters on the monitor blurred at times, demanding a focus that you simply didn’t have anymore.

Ellith watched you in silence for a moment, a small, sympathetic smile appearing on her face. “I don’t know how you’re still standing. I would have collapsed hours ago.”

You gave a tired smile. “Coffee. Lots of coffee... and probably some pure inertia.”

She laughed softly, though both of you knew there was a deeper truth behind that comment. The work in the hospital never stopped, especially in the emergency rooms. Exhaustion wasn’t optional, and the ability to keep going, to do what needed to be done, became second nature. But there was a limit, and you felt yours approaching.

“Don’t worry, once we finish this shift, I promise to take you for real coffee. None of that horrible stuff from the break room machine,” Ellith joked, trying to lift your spirits. Her voice was soft, but you could hear the same exhaustion reflected in her as well.

You looked at the screen one more time before turning away. “That sounds like an offer I can’t refuse.”

“Is Jay here, or has he already gone home?” Ellith asked as she powered up one of the computers, adjusting her sleek, thin-framed glasses.

“He’s still here,” you replied without taking your eyes off the screen, your fingers moving swiftly over the worn keyboard as you took a sip of your coffee, now cold and bitter. “He’s in neonatology with Margot, reviewing some cases.”

Your fingers paused mid-typing when the emergency alarm blared throughout the hospital, filling the air with tension. The quiet atmosphere of the reception transformed into controlled chaos as paramedics rushed in with a stretcher, moving with palpable urgency. Ellith, along with the other nurses, reacted immediately, rushing to meet the patient.

From where you stood, you watched as the man on the stretcher writhed violently, his face contorted with effort, the anguish evident in every one of his movements. The paramedics and nurses struggled to stabilize him, their efforts barely enough to contain the frantic energy that shook him.

You quickly stood and approached the scene, leaving the reception behind.

“What’s going on?” Ellith asked, her voice firm despite the confusion as she helped hold down the patient.

One of the paramedics, sweaty from the effort, responded as he adjusted the straps to immobilize the man.

“We’re not exactly sure. We found him in his apartment, thrashing like this. A neighbor called after hearing the screams and banging. His blood pressure’s through the roof, and he hasn’t stopped moving since we picked him up. He’s not responding to external stimuli, but he’s still conscious.”

"It could be poisoning," Ellith suggested, frowning. "We need blood tests and an urgent CT scan."

You nodded, mentally noting what needed to be done. The patient continued to struggle, his eyes rolled back, while his breathing grew more irregular. It was as if his body was fighting an invisible battle, and no one knew against what.

“He seems to be going into a seizure,” you said, focusing on his erratic movements. A full seizure could endanger his life.

“Prepare the sedative,” Ellith ordered firmly, turning to one of the nurses.

As you pulled the flashlight from your coat pocket, you prepared for an exam that, at the moment, felt routine. However, when you opened one of the patient's eyes and shone the light directly into his pupil, you noticed something alarming: the dilation was much greater than you'd anticipated. The man’s skin had a sickly yellow hue, and what struck you the most were the bluish veins, with a faint greenish tint, spreading like roots under the surface of his skin.

“Are you seeing this?” you murmured, not taking your eyes off the patient's face.

One of the nurses, who had already prepared the syringe with the sedative, quickly handed it to you. You took the needle and, as you inserted it into the patient's skin, you noticed something unsettling: the needle sank in with an almost unreal ease, as if you were piercing jelly rather than human muscle.

As the sedative began to take effect, the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor, which had been racing, started to slow. The patient, who had been thrashing and writhing on the stretcher, became still, his breathing becoming regular and deep. A momentary sense of relief flooded the room.

Ellith approached calmly, removing the oxygen mask from the patient’s face. With steady hands, she began unbuttoning the shirt he was wearing, exposing his torso.

“Look at this,” her voice was laced with surprise, immediately drawing your attention and that of the rest of the team.

You approached the stretcher along with the others, all of you with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. What you saw left you speechless. On the patient's side, near his abdomen, there was a clear human bite mark, surrounded by dark bruises and spots of dried blood. It was an unmistakable pattern: teeth, perfectly outlined, embedded in the flesh.

“Is... that a bite?” you managed to say, though the disbelief in your voice was evident.

Ellith nodded slowly, equally perplexed. One of the nurses leaned in closer, examining the wound with a mix of horror and fascination.

“Was it a person?” the nurse asked, as if seeking confirmation for what everyone already feared.

One of the paramedics, who had been standing by the door, cautiously stepped forward and asked a question that sounded more like a desperate guess.

“Could it be rabies?”

The question hung in the air, but no one answered immediately. Rabies was the first thing that came to mind when you saw a bite, but not a human one, and something about this scene didn’t quite add up. The greenish veins, the yellowish skin, the ease with which the flesh had given way under the needle... You had never seen anything like it.

As you tried to process what was happening, the patient, who had been completely sedated, let out a deep, savage growl that echoed through the room. His eyes shot open, bloodshot, and his body arched violently on the stretcher, fighting against the straps holding him down. The sounds he made were not those of a conscious human. They were closer to those of an animal, something primal and uncontrollable.

Fear gripped the room. No one dared to move, all of you frozen in the horror of the moment. And then, just as quickly as it had started, the patient collapsed again, his muscles relaxing, his eyes closing once more. The heart monitor returned to its steady rhythm, as if nothing had happened.

“This isn’t rabies,” whispered Ellith, her face pale as she adjusted her glasses.

After several minutes, everyone gathered in the break room. You glanced at the watch on your wrist; your shift was almost over, and soon you could head home.

"Alright, we should keep the patient under observation in case his condition worsens," you said, resting your hands on your hips as you addressed the nurses and Ellith. "Run a blood test, it could be an infection."

"Got it," Ellith replied, pulling her hair into a high ponytail. The other nurses left the room, ready to follow the instructions. "You should head home. I’ll call you if anything changes."

You nodded and quickly went to change clothes. You grabbed your backpack from your assigned cubicle and headed toward the elevator, pressing the button with a tired finger. You went up to the fourth floor, where you waited outside the men's locker room. After a few moments, a tall man with messy blond hair came out, wearing a gray hoodie.

"I need you to drive me home," you said as you slung your backpack over your shoulder, following him.

"Hello to you too," he replied, his tired voice barely concealing his exhaustion. "What about your car? I thought you'd wait for Ellith to finish her shift."

"I'm dying, dear Jay," you said, wrapping your arm around his as both of you took the elevator down to the parking lot. "I left my car at home; I walked here."

"You should start paying me for being your chauffeur," he joked, pulling the car keys from his pocket. "You owe me a favor."

You smiled as you settled into the passenger seat, closing the door gently. Jay got in and started the engine with a quick turn of his wrist. The hum of the car filled the silence as the streets, emptier than usual, stretched out before you.

Jay gave you a quick glance before speaking.

"So... how was your shift?" he asked with a mix of curiosity and fatigue, keeping his eyes on the road.

You sighed, recalling the patient who had arrived in such a disturbing condition.

"It was... strange," you began, intertwining your fingers in your lap. "There was an emergency admission, a man. We don't know all the details, but apparently, they found him in his apartment. He was in a pretty agitated state, his blood pressure through the roof, and he wouldn't stop moving frenetically."

Jay frowned, clearly intrigued by the tone of your voice.

"What did he have? Some kind of overdose?"

You shook your head, mentally reviewing the events of the past few hours.

"That's the weird part. It didn't seem like an overdose. When we stabilized him and were able to examine him, he had yellowish skin and bluish veins... But the most disturbing thing was what we found when Ellith took off his shirt." You paused, still processing what you had seen.

"What did you find?" Jay asked, now fully alert.

"A bite," you said, your voice barely a whisper, as if speaking it out loud would make the memory even more real. "A bite mark on the side of his abdomen. Surrounded by bruises and dried blood. They looked human, but there was something... off about them."

"A human bite? Do you think it could be rabies?" Jay frowned even more, his fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly.

"That's what we thought at first," you admitted. "But I'm not so sure. When we tried to stabilize him, he suddenly woke up, screaming. Then he fell unconscious again."

The silence between you stretched as Jay processed what you'd just told him. The streetlights cast fleeting shadows over his face as he turned down a deserted avenue.

"That sounds... creepy," he finally said, letting out a sigh as he turned the wheel toward your building. "Like something out of a horror movie."

The conversation faded into the quiet air as the car slowed down in front of your building. You unbuckled your seatbelt slowly, still somewhat absorbed in the day's events.

Before opening the door, you turned to look at Jay, who kept a relaxed expression, though there was a glimmer of concern in his eyes.

"Goodbye, JayJay," you said, using the nickname you'd given him years ago, your tone affectionate, softening the moment. "Thanks for the ride, as always."

Jay flashed a light smile, resting his hand on the steering wheel.

"You're welcome. You owe me dinner for being your chauffeur," he joked, though his tone was warm.

You let out a soft laugh as you opened the door and stepped out of the car.

"I owe you," you replied, leaning slightly toward him before closing the door. "Take care, Jay."

––––––––––+––

The lump in your throat tightened as you packed away your uniform, the images of Jay and Ellith resurfacing in your mind. Where were they now? Were they safe, or had they succumbed to the chaos that now ruled the world? You wondered, almost automatically, while you reorganized your backpack, trying to push aside the thoughts that only brought uncertainty and pain.

"Let's go outside," you whispered softly as you lifted her into your arms.

With Alice nestled in your arms, you headed out of the store, needing some fresh air and perhaps a distraction from the emotional weight that burdened you. As you stepped out, the first thing you noticed was Glenn, sitting by the RV. He seemed lost in his own thoughts, fanning himself with his baseball cap in an attempt to relieve the sweltering heat.

You walked slowly toward him, the crunch of gravel under your feet was enough to make him look up. Glenn gave you a tired but genuine smile, as if your mere presence brought a bit of normalcy to all the chaos.

"Hey," he greeted softly, his voice dragged down by exhaustion as he gestured to the empty chair beside him. "You look exhausted. You should rest."

You gave him a grateful but resigned look as you adjusted Alice in your arms. The little one, curious but fidgety, turned her head in all directions, her wide, alert eyes absorbing everything around her.

"I would, believe me," you sighed, taking a seat next to him, "but someone has to look after this little explorer." You smiled, though the exhaustion on your face was evident. You knew that caring for Alice wasn’t just a physical task but an emotional one. She was your anchor, but also a weight you carried with every step you took.

Glenn looked at you sympathetically, resting his elbows on his knees and dropping his cap into his hands. "It must be hard, doing it all on your own."

"It's what has to be done," you shrugged. "I don't have any other choice. She needs me, and that keeps me going."

There was a moment of silence between the two of you, broken only by the soft murmur of the camp and the crunch of gravel under the feet of some companions. In the distance, someone was arguing about food rations, and the constant presence of walkers beyond the perimeter was a shadow that never truly disappeared.

Glenn broke the silence. “You know, it’s amazing how strong you are.” His words caught you by surprise, and you glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing the genuine respect on his face. “All of this... it’s not easy for anyone, but you manage to stay strong for Alice. That’s admirable.”

You smiled, though you weren’t sure how to respond. You had heard similar words before, but coming from Glenn, they felt different. More genuine. “I’m just trying to do the best I can. But sometimes... sometimes it feels like it’s not enough.”

“It is,” he replied with certainty, looking at you again with that warmth that seemed to be one of the few constant things in his character. “Sometimes, just surviving is enough. And you’re doing a lot more than that.”

The impact of his words was immediate, and although you tried to hide it, you felt the heat rising to your cheeks. You lowered your head, pretending to focus on Alice as you adjusted her in your arms, but the truth was you wanted to hide the blush that was spreading across your face. God, you were sure of it. As much as you tried to deny it, the feeling was there: you wanted this man.

That feeling had been growing in you for a while, but now, under the dim light of the evening and the soft scent of damp earth, it seemed impossible to ignore. Glenn was more than just an ally in the midst of chaos. He was one of the few people who managed to make you feel safe, even when the world around you was falling apart.

You took a deep breath, trying to control the emotions surging in your chest. The camp continued its course, with the distant murmur of voices and the crunch of feet on the gravel, but between you and Glenn, there was a bubble of tranquility, of shared calm.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, Glenn,” you finally said, your voice soft, almost inaudible, but clear enough for him to hear. It wasn’t just a thank you; it was a disguised confession, a way of saying what you felt without fully exposing yourself.

Glenn turned his head towards you, and although you couldn’t look at him directly, you could feel his smile. “You don’t have to imagine it. I’m not planning on going anywhere,” he replied, his tone light, but with an underlying seriousness that made you feel like he meant it.

You dared to look up, meeting his eyes. There was something in his gaze, a silent understanding, a connection you both shared but neither of you had dared to name until now. Maybe there was no need to say more; you both knew what was happening Between you.

[this-is-what-makes-us-fandoms]

All’s Fair In Love and War || Part One ||

Requested: Hii can you do a "enemies to lovers" trope with max and reader imagine? :)

You’re a well-known thief, always able to steal whatever target you’re given. When you’re hired to steal a ruby from the Metroburg Museum, you come face to face with the famous ThunderTwins. Who, having been defeated for the first time in a long while, are determined to take you down. But you can’t help catching the eye of one Max Thunderman and him yours. How will things work out when you’re on opposites side of the playing field?

Pairing: Max Thunderman x Reader

Warnings: Enemies to Lovers, she/her pronouns, violence/fighting, mentions of blood/bleeding

Words: 2.3K

A/N: A while ago I made a poll for something and everyone voted for Max, this was that something. Inspired form the Spider-Man/Black Cat relationship I made this for the lovely person who requested it. This is going to be several parts, so I hope you guys enjoy.

|| GIFs not mine, Black Cat GIF is just a reflection of what your villain suit looks like not your actual self ||

It was late into the night, most of Metroburg was already sound asleep with a few exceptions of course. The few villains who were out and about, and the heroes who were trying to stop them. You, being one of them, stood on the roof of the Metroburg Museum; right by the ventilation system. You were pulling it apart, tugging the cover off the vent and throwing it to the side. You snuck in once it was off before falling through the vent and landing on your feet. You landed crouched down, leaning forward and placing your hands down in front of you before you started crawling. It was a small, narrow crawlspace, barely enough room to get through it.

There were a couple turns here and there that followed, taking each one as you had memorized it beforehand. Then coming to a stop above a vent cover and peeking through the blinds, spotting what you’d come for. You smiled to yourself, crawling back a few paces before moving to rip the cover off. Throwing it aside once you did and slipping through the vent hole. You fell, a small rush of air hitting you in the face and sending a shiver of excitement through you as you landed on your feet. The fall was rougher than through the vent, causing you to land crouched with your hands planted down for support. Lucky for you, you always landed on your feet no matter the height.

You straightened up after, rolling your neck once and relaxing your body before taking a glance around you. You were quick to catch what you were looking for, a glint of red hitting your eye. Turning full face towards it, a grin appeared on your lips, stretching wide and almost Cheshire-like. Just a few feet away from you stood a bright, red ruby encased in glass. It was called the heart of the museum since it was a literal heart shaped necklace. The ruby had been kept there for years, rarely ever shown to the public since it was worth millions. If it were to go missing, it would certainly strike disaster in all Metroburg. It only made you want it more, and in turn you could sell it for so much more than it was worth. After all, there were plenty of people willing to pay top dollar for it. More so, the person who hired you in the first place.

The hard part of it was slipping it out of the box without sounding the alarm. You didn’t need to alert whatever supes were patrolling around the museum. Approaching the case, you reached towards your tool belt and pulled out a spray can. Uncapping it, you were quick to spray all around the case, showing the censored lasers that surrounded the ruby. There was more than you imagined, making you sigh as you looked for an opening between the glass and the censors.

When you found it, you slipped your hand through, being careful not to move your wrist. You laid your fingers against the glass, outstretching them some and watching as your nails grew long and pointed. You pressed them tight against the glass, turning your wrist after you did and watching as they cut a perfect circle through the glass. Once it was done, your nails retracted back, and you laid your fingers back on the glass. Twisting your hand around slowly and turning the circle until it came off. You pulled your hand back with the glass, being careful not to touch the lasers again.  

After that, you crouched down, setting the glass on the floor and reaching for your tool belt again. You pulled out an object, one that weighed the same as the necklace. You were sure there was a pressure censor on it, knowing that if you just snatched it up, the alarm would sound. When you stood back up, you reached your hand back in and towards the necklace. You had to time it right to set the figurine where the necklace sat and pull the necklace away.

You took a breath, steadying your hand as you set it on the display plate and slowly inched it to the side. As you did, you pushed the necklace along and stuck your pinky out. You hooked it around the band, pulling the rest of it out and letting it dangle off your pinky. Once the figurine was set down, you pulled your hand out of the case, grinning once again. You’d done it, you managed to steal one of the most valuable items in the world. You slipped the necklace into one of the pockets of your utility belt, ready to go on your way.

“That’s far enough,” you heard a voice say behind you.

You scoffed at the impeccable timing, standing up straight and rolling your neck before turning around. Behind you stood Max and Phoebe, the hottest superheroes in metroburg at the moment. They had risen to the top faster than any superhero ever had, given their own task force before even becoming full-fledged heroes. Though you hardly saw them as a challenge, knowing about their numerous failed missions from before. They were messy, which meant you could escape them easily.

“Well, if it isn’t dumb and dumber,” you said.

You smirked at the looks of offense on their faces, mirroring each other in a perfect twin sense.

“Okay, that was rude,” Phoebe scoffed. “No matter, we’re still going to take you down.”

“Sure, give it your best shot,” you mused out as you reached into your belt and threw something at them.

It hit the ground a few inches in front of them, exploding and releasing smoke. It clouded their vision immediately and you took the opportunity to run away. You didn’t want to deal with the pesky telekinesis they both had. You could hear coughing as the smoke invaded their lungs, but you didn’t look back. Instead, you took a turn and ran for the exit you had planned. You were avoiding going through the front, knowing there would surely be police waiting for you.

“Not so fast,” you heard from behind you.

“Shit,” you mumbled out, feeling a force acting from behind you.

It was Max who spoke, using his telekinesis to pull you back as you fought against it. It won in the end, he managed to pull you back enough to try and capture you. You didn’t let him though, turning around in a roundhouse kick. One you managed to land, kicking him in the stomach and watching him fly back against the wall.

“Sorry, pretty boy, but I have somewhere to be,” you told him before trying to run off again.

“Think again,” Phoebe said, appearing at your side.

She threw a punch at you, but your reflexes allowed you to evade her punch. You let out a breath of air as you stepped back, irritation slowly rising inside you. You really didn’t have time for this, you had somewhere to be, and they were getting in your way.

Just as you had deflected Phoebe’s punch, Max had recovered and jumped back in. He threw a punch of his own, one he landed square on your jaw and sending you flying back. This time it was you who flew into the wall from the force, an ache growing on your jaw. You steadied yourself against the wall, looking up and sending a glare Max’s way. Now you were pissed, it was rare for a superhero to get in your way. You were an excellent thief, always able to get in and out without trouble. Except for now.

“Tch. Pesky wonder twins,” you mumbled again.

You straightened up, looking between both twins and trying to come up with a strategy. They were both in fighting stances, ready for whatever you were going to throw at them.

“Give up, you aren’t getting past us,” Phoebe told you.

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” was your response.

You went for Phoebe first, knowing you could take her down faster before focusing on Max. You threw a punch at Phoebe, watching her evade it like you expected. You didn’t let her recover before your leg lifted and made contact with her stomach. You kicked her down, watching her land roughly on the floor and holding her stomach. You knew it would take her a while to get back up, meaning you could take care of Max in the meantime.

You turned to look at him, just in time to step back before he hit you. You shot him another glare and went in for a kick at his side. He dodged it and grabbed ahold of your ankle before pushing you away. It caused you to lose your balance, falling back on your ass. You clenched your jaw, looking up at Max and the smug smile on his face. You hated it, you wanted to wipe it off his face, but there was something about it. Something that caused a stir in your stomach and sent a tingle down your spine. For the enemy, he was so damn hot.

That wasn’t the point right now, you couldn’t let your thoughts distract you from escaping. So, you stood back up, along with Phoebe who had recovered. You were back to facing the two of them. You shook yourself off, arms outstretching at your side and claws extending out. They were long and sharp, enough to leave deep wounds if you really wanted to. You didn’t wait for either of them to make the first move, stepping forward and striking with one of your hands. You went for Max first this time, claws barely scratching his suit as he leaped back.

You took a swing at Phoebe next, hand going to her face and managing to scratch her cheek. You could feel the skin split open against your nail and watched blood seep through. Phoebe’s hand flew up to her face, gloved hand rubbing at her cheek and wiping away at the blood. She looked at her hand, shock on her face as she looked between you and her palm.

“Woah, that is so not cool,” she scoffed out.

“I’m sorry, did I hurt you?” you asked, feigning remorse.

She shot you a glare, not appreciative of your sarcasm. “Don’t worry, I’ll return the favor.”

You faked a look of fear before rolling your eyes and retreating your claws back. You’d gotten what you wanted out of them, and they weren’t exactly your favorite to use. You dug a hand in your belt, pulling out a device and throwing it at Phoebe. It attached itself to her suit and distracted her as she tried to pull it off. It was too late; the device activated and shot an electric pulse over her body. It wasn’t hurtful but it was enough to knock her down and let you leave.

“Okay, that was kind of funny but dude, that’s my sister,” Max yelled out, holding back a laugh.

“Sorry, like I said, I have somewhere to be,” you said, once again feigning remorse.

He rolled his eyes this time and shot forward, swinging recklessly as if he were tired of fighting and just wanted to knock you down. You dodged each punch he threw, stepping back to create some distance so you could strike back. He wasn’t letting you, continuing to swing at you and hoping for the best. You had to give it to him though, he was persistent which sort of made him hotter.

“You know you’re pretty cute for a superhero,” you told him.

Your words caught him off guard and he stopped, looking at you like you grew an extra head. You took this as your chance, dropping to the ground and placing your hands in front of you. You used them to balance yourself before extending your leg out and sitting back on your heel. You spun around after, aiming for Max’s ankles and using your leg to swipe him under his feet. You managed to hit him clean through, knocking him off his feet and onto his back.

You smiled to yourself, standing up and looming over him, looking down at him. He groaned in pain, slightly curling himself up into a ball which only made you smile more. “But you’re not my type. Until next time, pretty boy.”

With both twins finally down, you took the opportunity to make your escape and disappeared before their eyes. Phoebe regained consciousness and sat up, hand against her temple to soothe the building headache. She looked over at Max who was lying next to her, staring up at the ceiling in defeat.

“She got away,” he mumbled out bitterly.

“You let her get away?” Phoebe shrieked.

“It’s not my fault, she got the better of me,” he answered. “But damn, she was hot.”

“Max! She stole the heart of the museum, and you called her hot?” she continued to yell.

“We’ll get it back, we can find her,” he said, sighing out heavily.

“You better be right,” Phoebe grumbled out.

She stood up after, hand outstretching towards Max and helping him up too. They were going to have report this back to the president, ashamed that they would have to admit defeat.

[someonesrealityshifting]

Doing @nyxshifts222 DR S/O Challenge!!

Name:

Miles Morales

Face Claim:

Relationship Dynamic:

I’m not exactly sure how to describe it. Miles is my world, my rock, my best friend. Our relationship started as strictly business (he tutored me in math), then more casual when I figured out he was Spider-Man (I’m a spider person too, and gods know he wasn’t gonna figure out me), then he just became my life line. He’s there when I have a nightmare, or a hard day, or I just need a hug, and I do the same for him. I think our relationship dynamic is just…. Us.

My favorite thing about him: (oh, to be forced just one)

Bro is such a dork. Everything about him is so so sweet and gentle but he’s also just a kid, ya’know? He wants to make people happy, and make them smile and laugh and he always goes out of his way to bring just a little bit of joy in the shittiest of situations. He’s my silver lining.

A funny fact about our relationship:

He forced me to move in with him when Spider-Man caught me on the roof of an abandoned building and I told him I wasn’t gonna do anything weird, I was just waiting for my friend Miles, that he should be here any minute and he didn’t have to worry about me. He stayed out of sight but within range so he could see if I jumped or bought drugs, but I hunkered down and went to sleep, pulling things out of old air vents and hidden doors. He realized I lived there and worked some kind of magic idfk and made his parents make me live with them. <3

Song that reminds me of him:

A scenario I’ve scripted with him: (red is him, blue is me)

“Why doesn’t your hair make your mask all lumpy?” “Why doesn’t yours?” “Well- mine is just a big poof. It just gets flat. You have beads and braids and things. How does your mask stay so smooth?” *gets uncomfortably close* “Hammerspace.” “Hammer what now? Alex? Alexandria get back here and answer the damn question!”

[arlemangel7]

Gambitxfem!blackreaderxrogue

Cw:arguments separation regrouping

How they recover after an arguement

I feel like rogue would go for a bike ride(as in motorcycle) getting out of the house and on the open road is a pretty good way to get perspective. She would leave a note or a text in the chat saying she would be going to clear her head and she'd be back(because we communicate in this house) and Yes I know she can fly but sometimes a good ride is what's needed to clear your head with the roar of the engine and the vibrations of the handles as she riding I feel like it will help turn her brain off for a little bit as opposed to being in the air, it would give her a sense of grounding that would help in not only regaining her composure but also finding a solution to the problem so when she does return to the house yall can have that productive regroup that would be necessary.

Gambit(remi)

I feel like remi would escape to the roof top or the balcony. So he could gripe and yell about the situation and he would want to do that in a kind of secluded area so he doesn't hurt either of your feels any further because he knows somethings don't need to be said and if he is going to vent some of these sometimes hurtful thoughts he'd do it away from earshot because even when he's mad he would always respect his girls and not saying things that can brutally hurt yall is one of the ways he does that. After the screaming faze his over he'd calm down and be able to hear the city noise and feel the wind blowing across his face this makes it easy to think and sort through what was said and gives him an opportunity to step back and see the bigger picture of what was said and what the resolution can be so when table time comes he has a well rounded view and is ready to listen and be listened to.

You

I feel like you retreat to your music. You'd pick a spot in the house that is quiet with a door so either the bathroom, bedroom or basement so you can just shut out the world for a minute and distress from what just transpired. You lay down place both headphones in, turn the music all the way up and just process through your feelings, centering your mind and taking the opportunity to just be. Being in a space that's away from where the argument took place gives you the time to think, think about what they said why they would say that and as this session continues those thoughts turn to I can understand why they said that and how my words hurt them and by the time your walking out of the space your feeling better about finding a common ground and are ready to be seen and see as well.

Aftercare for the argument/disagreement

Food, cuddles or dancing. It depends on the mood because sometimes it's all three, sometimes yall feel like going out after all the tension and just Wanna get cute go the the club or the bar and just dance the night about get some drinks and then go home order pizza and cuddle the night away. And then the following morning hangover cures and breakfast is served along side a "let's never fight again*mwah*"

[tobiasdrake]

Ranking Digimon Adventure 1's Chosen Children on the Fight Me Bruh Scale

Here we go. This will be a scale from Most Confident to Least Confident, based on how confident I am that I could take each child in a playground fistfight. In the interest of fairness, they will not have their Partner Digimon with them, and my age will be set to 10 years old; An average of the eight of them.

1 - Izumi "Izzy" Koushiro. Oh, cute little nerd boy, what's he going to do, complain online about--

NO YOU'RE WRONG. Koushiro's on the soccer team. He may be meek and unassuming but that boy is an athlete all the same. Pick on him at your peril. He may be one of the less difficult fights but that meek stature conceals enough musculature to at least get by on the field.

Koushiro may be the least threatening but only because of how scary the others can be. I still don't relish my chances, and it's all uphill from here.

2 - Kido "Joe" Joe. What Jou lacks in athleticism and gusto, he makes up for with wild intensity when he gets going.

If this fight is happening, either I'm bullying Jou or I said or did some shit to the kids under him. In the first case, I can probably sweep the win. He won't defend himself too hard. But in the case of the latter, he's going to come at me like a lanky berserker bent on my destruction.

Jou is also the child most likely to win the fight by showing up to it in the company of an escorting adult, who then proceeds to drag me away by the ear.

3 - Ishida "Matt" Yamato. Yamato seems vulnerable to psychological warfare. Maybe if I yell something at him like "Look over there, it's your self-worth!" that will distract him enough that I can get some good hits in.

I'm gonna need something because he is ready and willing to come at me in full-scale brawling mode. He doesn't have the build of an athlete which will help me, but he's also probably not above cheap shots. Obviously, neither am I. Either way, this is going to be a fight.

4 - Takaichi "T.K." Takeru. On paper, you'd think I can just punt the little shrimp. But Takeru is small, scrappy, and unyielding. He faced down an insane puppet with a revolver 1v1 and came out on top. I don't think anything I have to throw at him is going to top that.

If I pick this fight, I'm going to regret it quickly when Takeru turns his niceness off and flips over into the honey badger of my destruction.

Plus there's a strong possibility that this fight ends in Yamato emerging from the underbrush with a steel chair. The Big Brother Factor is always important to keep in mind during playground brawls.

5 - Yagami "Tai" Taichi. Oh, fuck me. Nope nope. Nope nope nope. Are you shitting me? You want me to fight one of the two ace strikers of the school's soccer team?

This boy is rabid. I'll be on that schoolyard two seconds before he's throwing a thousand punches per minutes straight into my kidney. He is a ball of energy wrapped in a shell of violence incarnate waiting for an excuse.

6 - Takenouchi Sora. Oh, fuck me. Nope nope. Nope nope nope. Are you shitting me? You want me to fight the other of the two ace strikers of the school's soccer team?

In a playground brawl, Sora is Taichi with better reach and something to prove. I have self-identified as an opportunity to vent her frustrations over her mom's dislike of her athleticism, and I'm not going to be very happy about what comes next.

7 - Yagami "Kari" Hikari. Hikari isn't much of a brawler so you'd think this would be an easy fight. But this girl is weird, y'all! I go in for the haymaker and before I can even land it, she starts glowing brighter than the surface of the sun and speaking in new voices and levitating in the air.

And before I can even say "What the actual fuck is happening right now", Taichi with the steel chair.

8 - Tachikawa Mimi. One does not fight Tachikawa Mimi. This girl's charisma score is through the roof. Her greatest power is the ability to inspire others to stand by her, even when she isn't even trying to.

There is no version of this fight where Mimi ever throws a punch. She doesn't have to. In all other fights, the crowd of kids gathers to watch me fight. Mostly to laugh at me. In this fight, they're the fight.

This is a 35-on-1 shitstomp as every child on the playground dogpiles on my face and kicks the shit out of me for even daring.

And you know what? They're right. It's me. I'm the bully. ._. I'm sorry, everyone. I'll try to be better.

[allmoshnobrain]

𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 01 of ? | masterpost

word count: 3.3k

Clearly, he was a decent guy, but it got you wondering why he ended up there, all by himself in a town he didn't know squat about. Was he on the run from something? What brought him here in the first place? You were itching to find out. Beyond mere curiosity, a peculiar fascination started to take root.

✦ warnings and tags: jason newsted x reader, age gap (23/38), no use of y/n, slow burn, grumpy/sunshine dynamics maybe?, drinking, reader has a backstory and it's kinda tragic, a bit of angst

The end of winter came with the soft, cheerful chirping of the birds returning from migration, the air crisp as the morning sun rose. Warm light seeped through the white curtains, being caught by the small crystal prism hanging from the window. The room felt like a dream as you opened your eyes, sunlight and small rainbows casting warm glows in the walls, the wardrobe, the bed, your legs.

It was such a beautiful sight to wake up to, and you couldn’t help but linger in bed just a bit longer, curling up under the covers. The morning air hinted at a warm day ahead, but the tip of your nose felt cold, and you wished you could sleep for just a few more minutes.

In theory, you could. It was a Saturday, and weekends were meant for resting, but after working hard all week, you couldn’t bear the thought of wasting your precious free time snoozing — especially with such a gorgeous day practically calling your name, begging you to get out there and soak it all in.

You could totally head down to Main Street, hit up the only bookshop in town, and grab some groceries on the way back. Then, you'd probably ring up your best friend Sophie, and the two of you would end up spending the whole afternoon in her room, chatting about everything and nothing, with you venting about having to see your ex, Ethan, at your night gig and how he just couldn't stop staring at you all night long.

Life was calm that way. Predictable, even. It’s not like you could expect more than that, living in a small town such as yours, where nothing much ever really happened, and nothing ever seemed to change. But, even as you stirred awake, you could feel in your chest a restlessness that you tried to ignore.

The longing for more than this.

Life hadn't been an easy journey for you the past couple of years. When you were younger, the idea of living in the small town where you grew up felt like a cozy certainty you'd had since you were a kid. Being an only child, you were close to your parents. The thought of leaving them behind to start a new life elsewhere just didn't sit right with you. But then, everything changed about a week after your 21st birthday, when you and your parents got into a car crash. While you managed to walk away with just a few scars, they didn't make it.

And just like that, you were on your own. All those dreams you had, all those plans for the future, just seemed to lose their meaning overnight. You didn’t have any close kin, but managed to get back on your feet thanks to your family’s friends. That's the thing about small towns, right? People looked out for each other. But, as much as you adored the place, being there was also too painful. You knew you needed more than this, living in a house that used to be bursting with love and laughter but now was only home to you and your solitude. 

You let out a sigh, blinking as you gazed at the sun's reflection on the roof. Wallowing in the past wasn't gonna do you any good; if you wanted to make the most of the day, you'd better haul yourself out of bed soon. With a grunt, you sat up, yawning and stretching your arms. A quick peek at the clock told you it was still early — eight in the morning.

A sudden racket down on the street made you furrow your brow, piquing your curiosity. You hopped out of bed, drawing back the curtains, and let out a little gasp when you spotted the moving truck parked at the neighboring house. That place had been up for sale forever, until one day it wasn't. Nobody in the neighborhood had a clue who'd snagged it, so you just figured it must have been someone from out of town. But you sure didn't expect them to move in this fast, whoever they were. You watched as a bunch of guys hopped out of the truck and started hauling boxes and furniture, an idea starting to brew in your head.

You had no clue who your new neighbors were, but you were itching to find out. The thought of meeting some fresh faces was downright thrilling, a break from the same old routine day in and day out. With a spring in your step, you headed to the bathroom, suddenly excited and humming a tune as you brainstormed the best way to make an introduction. Baking up a batch of brownies seemed like a solid plan; you were a whiz in the kitchen, and they were a breeze to whip up. Plus, it'd be the perfect excuse to get to know the new folks in the neighborhood.

You got right to it after your shower; you loved cooking, so those brownies were whipped up in a flash. The kitchen was soon filled with the heavenly aroma of chocolate baking, and you seized the chance to brew some fresh coffee too. Once everything was ready, you arranged the brownies all nice and cute in a porcelain tray and decided to throw in some coffee in a thermal bottle for good measure.

The neighbor's door was wide open, with furniture and boxes scattered everywhere in the living room and on the porch. You didn't wanna barge in uninvited, so you rang the bell instead. After a few minutes of waiting, your new neighbor finally showed up. He seemed older than you, with short, curly brown hair and sharp blue eyes that sized you up quickly. You couldn't help but wonder if he had a wife or maybe some little ones you'd end up meeting.

"Hey," he greeted, with a kind of shy smile playing on his lips. "Need a hand?"

"Hi," you replied, feeling a bit bashful all of a sudden. You adjusted the tray of brownies and the coffee bottle in your hands, and he quickly stepped in, taking the tray from you. "You're the new guy, right? I'm your next-door neighbor, brought over some welcome brownies for you and the family."

He chuckled softly. "Thanks. But no family here, just me."

"Oh, my bad. I kinda assumed..." You trailed off, your curiosity getting the better of you, which earned you a soft laugh from him.

"Yeah, long story. I'm Jason, by the way. Pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise, Jason," you grinned, then gave him your name. "I'd offer a handshake, but... yeah." You trailed off, feeling a bit embarrassed as you glanced at the tray Jason was holding. He chuckled.

"It's all good. And hey, thanks for these," he said, gesturing to the tray of brownies. Then, he hesitated for a second before asking, "Wanna...  join me for breakfast? The place is a bit of a disaster right now, but we could chill on the porch if you're up for it."

"Oh, sure!" you agreed with a grin. Meeting new folks was a rarity in your usual routine, so this was kind of a thrill. Plus, Jason seemed like a solid guy, and you were genuinely curious about his story and why he'd end up in your sleepy little town all on his own.

You and Jason kicked back on the porch steps; he managed to find a couple of mugs amidst the mess of moving boxes while you poured the fresh coffee, the scent lingering in the air as the sun beamed down, casting dancing shadows through the leaves of the tree out front.

Jason was quiet, almost like he was feeling a bit shy himself, which got you thinking about how to break the ice. Your curiosity sparked up again as you noticed some pretty pro-looking gear on the moving truck: amps and what seemed like a guitar case.

"You play guitar?" you asked, shooting him a curious look. He smiled, holding up a hand to signal for a moment as he finished chowing down on his brownie.

"Bass, actually," he replied, his eyes lighting up a bit. "Was in a band, but I bounced. Figured I'd focus on some other stuff for a while."

"Ah, gotcha. So, did Oak Ridge call your name for some musical inspiration?" you quipped, and he chuckled.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that. I’m from Battle Creek," he replied, and you nodded. You'd never actually been to the city, but you knew it was somewhere in Michigan, about an hour's drive from your neck of the woods. "Been out in California for a few years now. Figured it might be nice to come back home, but I didn't want to go back to my old stomping grounds, so... after some searching, I wound up here. It's a pretty little town," he said, his voice softening, and you couldn't help but smile. "Thought maybe it'd give me a little peace of mind."

"Yeah, it's pretty damn peaceful around here, that's for sure. Can get a bit too quiet sometimes, but hey, can't complain," you remarked, and he let out a chuckle. "If you ever need a hand with anything, I'm just a stone's throw away."

"Thanks," he grinned. "So, you're a local then?"

"Born and raised," you replied, your tone tinged with a touch more melancholy than you intended.

“Don’t you like it here?” he asked, his voice gentle. You shook your head, offering a small smile.

"It's not that. It's just... My folks passed away not too long ago, so... It's kinda tough being here without 'em," you admitted softly, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks as you noticed the sympathy in Jason's eyes. "Sorry, didn't mean to dump all that on you."

"You're not. I'm really sorry for your loss," he murmured, reaching out to take your hand in his. His touch was warm, his rough palm against your softer skin offering an unexpected source of comfort. You blushed, casting your gaze downward.

"Thanks," you whispered, and he cleared his throat lightly before releasing your hand. You almost missed the sensation of his touch, a lingering warmth ghosting over your skin as you lifted your gaze to meet his. "I should probably let you get back to your stuff... Need a hand with anything?"

"Don't sweat it, I've got some guys on the job," he grinned. "Plus, you shouldn't spend your weekend playing servant for an old man like me. You've already treated me to some free breakfast, after all."

"Yeah, you're welcome," you chuckled softly, and he joined in with a laugh of his own. As you stood up, he followed suit. "Catch you later, Mr...?"

"Newsted," he replied, "But you can just call me Jason."

"Got it. See you around, Jason," you grinned.

"See you."

The rest of your day unfolded just as you'd mapped it out; a stroll down Main Street, a pit stop at Mrs. Smith's shop for a cup of coffee, and a quick swing by the bookshop before snagging some essentials at the grocery store. Yet, amidst the routine, your mind kept circling back to Jason. You figured a simple introduction would have satisfied your curiosity, but there was an undeniable pull to learn more about him, to unravel the sadness that lingered in his voice when he’d touched on his past.

It was a weird sensation, especially when you caught yourself replaying the way he'd gently held your hand, offering a comfort that hit you deeper than you expected. Clearly, he was a decent guy, but it got you wondering why he ended up there, all by himself in a town he didn't know squat about. Was he on the run from something? What brought him here in the first place? You were itching to find out.

Beyond mere curiosity, a peculiar fascination started to take root.

Your friend Sophie didn't miss the fact that you were zoning out. As you both sprawled out on her bedroom rug, surrounded by a heap of empty beer bottles in her tiny trash can and MTV music videos blaring from her shelf-mounted TV, your thoughts kept drifting back to Jason. The slight buzz from the booze made it even tougher to concentrate on anything else.

"You're not lost in Ethan-land again, are you?" Sophie quipped, and you tore your gaze away from the ceiling fan to meet her eyes. A grin tugged at your lips as you took in the single blue streak in her short, dark hair — a rebellious touch of authenticity her folks had begrudgingly allowed while she was still living under their roof. "Don't tell me he's been lurking around your workplace again. I swear, if he is, I'll kick his fucking ass."

“It’s not that, but thanks anyway," you grinned. Sophie arched an eyebrow.

"Well, you're definitely lost in thought about something. I can tell by that look of yours."

"Did you hear? I got new neighbors moving in today," you mentioned. "Well, not neighbors, just one guy apparently."

"So, is this the mystery that's been occupying your brain?" Sophie teased, and you let out a grunt. "Is he hot?" she prodded, a playful smirk dancing on her lips.

You rolled your eyes, a smile playing on your lips, but the thought lingered in your mind nonetheless. Sure, you'd noticed Jason's looks, but what really grabbed your attention was his demeanor — he seemed so easygoing, yet here he was, uprooting his life to move to a tiny town all by himself. And he had this... way about him. Comforting, you'd call it. Maybe it was all in your head, but you couldn't shake the feeling that he carried a weight of sadness and solitude, much like you did. You wondered if he harbored the same itch for something different — for something new that even you couldn't quite put your finger on.

As for his looks... Well, you couldn't deny he was easy on the eyes, with his gorgeous hair and those piercing blue eyes. His smile felt infectious and genuine, and you couldn’t forget about those hands of his — warm, big, and sturdy, like they could tackle anything.

"He's decent," you muttered, though truth be told, thinking about him for this long had left a bit of a buzz coursing through your body. It hit you then: you wanted to dig deeper, to unravel more about him. It was a weird sensation, really. In a small town like this, meeting new faces wasn't exactly an everyday occurrence. Most folks you knew had been around forever. 

Encountering someone entirely fresh was a rarity — and you could tell you were already getting sucked into the whirlwind of it.

 ☆

It was early evening when the moving crew finally wrapped up. They had unloaded all of Jason’s stuff from the trucks, sorted it out by rooms, and even put together some of the more complicated furniture. Moving had always been a stress-fest, but this time it had been something else. Jason had never realized he had so much junk piled up until now.

He snagged the coffee bottle you'd left out earlier, pouring himself a bit of the drink and grumbling when he realized it was stone cold. Figures — it had been brewed for breakfast, hours before. It dawned on him that he hadn't eaten a thing all day, and suddenly his crankiness made a whole lot more sense. Sure, he could try warming the coffee up, but the thought of any extra effort felt like it would drain the last ounce of patience he had left. With a sigh, he gulped down the cold coffee, the memory of you lingering with the faint bitter aftertaste.

You were a curious little thing, unexpected but a welcome surprise in his morning routine. Jason found himself thinking about you more than he’d expected, a girl with kindness in her heart yet a sadness mirroring his own in her eyes. Getting to know you, even just a little, made him feel selfish. What could he possibly understand about your sorrow, someone who had endured so much loss? He remembered being your age, brimming with life, hopes, and dreams. Losing both parents at such a young age — he couldn’t imagine how hard it must have been. Even if he was trying to escape his own troubles, they paled in comparison to yours.

Yeah, maybe he had been on the run for a while. Ever since he'd reached his breaking point and found the courage to say enough's enough, to walk away from Metallica after years of disrespect and heartache. But why did it feel like he'd lost it all, when he was the one who made the call to bail? Jason couldn’t deny that the sadness he’d been feeling, along with the relentless questions, accusations, and those damn interview requests were pushing him to the brink of insanity.

He decided he’d reached his breaking point, had his fill of it all. He wanted to disappear somewhere folks hadn't even heard of James fucking Hetfield and Lars fucking Ulrich, where nobody would hassle him for ditching Metallica, wouldn't grill him about every move he wanted to make. So he looked for somewhere where he could just quit — maybe buy some land, tend to some critters, and jam out in peace. Oak Ridge seemed as good a spot as any, and before he knew it, he found himself snagging a house in the small town, at least until he figured out his next move. With more cash than he knew what to do with, being out of the spotlight for a bit wasn't gonna do him any harm. If anything, he figured it might just do the opposite.

Jason's thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the jingle of keys at his front door. He frowned, setting his mug in the sink and tiptoeing to the room. His eyebrow shot up when he heard a soft curse, instantly recognizing the voice as yours. With a few brisk steps, he swung the door open, finding you on the other side. You let out a yelp, cheeks flushed, and he realized with an amused smile you were obviously a bit drunk. Sure, he'd been more than tipsy at your age, but you didn't strike him as the type to get so plastered you'd mistake your neighbor's house for your own.

"Oh, Mr. Newsted! I-I'm really sorry," you stammered, your face now definitely turning beet red. Jason couldn't help but bite his lower lip, trying to hold back his laughter. You were clearly embarrassed — it was funny, but also endearing.

“You’re here for dinner?” he joked, and you blinked, looking surprised. He chuckled softly. "Just kidding. Are you okay?"

"I'm... I'm fine," you mumbled. "I'm really, really sorry. I forgot my porch light was off, and I'm so used to it being on that when I saw your porch lit up, I... I mean, it's always been off until today, so..."

"It's alright. You want some water?" he offered. Despite knowing you'd sober up soon enough, he couldn't help but be concerned. Hopefully all you'd have to deal with the next day was a hangover and some embarrassment.

"I'm okay," you insisted, still a bit flushed. "But thanks. I should probably head home now."

"Make sure you eat something, drink some water, and maybe take a cold shower before hitting the hay, okay?" he advised. "It might ease the hangover tomorrow."

"Thanks," she giggled, and he couldn't help but smile back. "Goodnight, Mr. Newst... Jason."

"Night," he chuckled softly. He watched you as you made your way to your house, opening the door. He let out a small, relieved sigh when he saw you step inside, flicking on the lights and locking the door behind you. It was good to know you were safe.

And just like that, Jason felt his bad mood melt away. Sure, he was still tired, and he didn't think he could ever shake off the grumpiness on an empty stomach, but having you around was definitely a pleasant surprise.

Maybe moving to this little town was gonna turn out to be a pretty nice experience after all.

✧ if you'd like to be tagged on the next parts, let me know and I'll add you to the tag list! ❤ ✧