#Live Clean USA

[hb-writes]

Go Play in Traffic - Part 2

Summary: Charlie comes to her brother intending to talk some things through, realizing too late that perhaps it’s not the best time. 

Characters: Harvey Specter, Charlie Specter, Donna Paulson

Content Warnings: Angst, Mental Health.

Part One

Charlie shivered as the rain pelted her clothes, every inch of her soaked through to the bones. She had walked nearly four blocks before realizing she was cold, before realizing she had left her jacket and umbrella on the couch in Harvey’s office in the wave of her anger. It was all stupid—Charlie felt so, so stupid—but she shook it off. 

Told herself it didn’t matter.

None of it did. 

She focused on nothing but moving forward, one foot in front of the other. In just a few more blocks, she would hit FDR drive. 

Just as she’d told Harvey she would. 

Just as her brother had suggested. 

Charlie didn’t care if he had only said it in anger. Annoyance. 

It didn’t matter.

None of it did. 

Midtown East was a blur that Charlie was only half aware of as she passed through it. After bursting from the building lobby, her decision to head towards the river hadn’t been a conscious one, not really, but despite having a whole five boroughs available to her, the river was the only thing on Charlie’s mind, the only place she could think to go. 

Hoping on a subway train would’ve probably angered Harvey more, but Charlie wasn’t worried about her brother any more. She just needed to see the water of the river, all of it staging a desperate attempt at flowing South to meet the ocean. She needed to see that…and she needed to see the cars on the FDR, all of them racing by her on the highway. 

All of it going somewhere, on their way towards something. 

Charlie needed to know it was possible to move forward. To know it was possible to achieve something, and more than that, Charlie ached to feel something bigger and more powerful than whatever was raging within her now. 

She hadn’t sorted out exactly what she was feeling. She didn’t really want to, but she could feel the weight of it, the power of it swelling within her. She had settled into something close to neutrality in recent weeks, a certain numbness that was both comforting and terrifying at the same time. It was scary enough that Charlie had worked up the nerve to say something…to ask for help. 

It was exhausting, holding it all so tightly and trying to keep herself from bursting. She felt suddenly tired from the exertion, from all the tension and from the way she had covered the last few blocks in what felt like no time at all. 

She was grateful for the brief reprieve provided by a red light, the first she’d encountered since leaving her brother’s office. Charlie backtracked a few steps from the street corner to wait under a section of metal scaffolding that was somehow foreign…clearly wrong and intrusive, and yet an accepted part of the landscape of the city and glanced over her shoulder. Charlie felt like whatever she was feeling was like that scaffold. Whatever had settled inside of her in recent weeks was foreign, too. It wasn’t part of her and yet, it felt like it had nestled its way in and made a home. No one seemed to question it, no one except her. 

Charlie glanced down the sidewalk behind her. It was mostly clear, the realization a simultaneous relief and injury. She turned back around, watching the traffic and suddenly impatient for movement once again as the wind ran through her damp clothes. The water had gotten through her shoes, soaking through her clothes and her hair, and now it seemed to soak into her skin, into her bones. All of her felt cold and weary, but Charlie’s feet tugged her forward when the walking signal flashed even though her heart wasn’t in it anymore, not really.

Charlie started as someone passing in the other direction bumped her shoulder, the contents of his umbrella spilling over her head. The man moved on without even acknowledging Charlie, without seeing or hearing her though a muted apology had slipped from her lips. It was silly of her to expect his forgiveness or even an acknowledgement. This was New York afterall. No one seemed to have time for that sort of thing. And anyway, she had been the one walking aimlessly in the middle of the sidewalk, all purpose forgotten. 

She should’ve just been grateful that he hadn’t shouted at her. Maybe she would have deserved it if he had, with her being in the way like that. But even from this man she didn’t know, Charlie felt herself longing for a little kindness. A little connection. 

She walked another avenue in a blur, oblivious as she moved over the curb and the sidewalk transitioned into the street. She was just an avenue from the river. An avenue from the highway. Just an avenue stood between her and—

Charlie flinched, the strong push of air crashed against her as a car passed by, just inches from her before a hand on her elbow tugged her back. 

Charlie’s heart thumped in her chest as she twisted to watch after the same car moved through the next set of lights, passing under another red without even tapping on the brakes. She heaved a breath, realizing the hand that had pulled her back was still on her arm, the knuckles white with the strength of the grip. 

“Thank y—” she started, pausing when she finally pulled her eyes to find it wasn’t a diligent stranger who’d pulled her back from harm’s way.

Harvey stood there before her, out of breath and just as wet as she was, his hair plastered flat against his head. 

Harvey’s chest heaved beneath his ruined suit jacket, his eyes wide with some emotion Charlie couldn’t quite place. An emotion she couldn’t quite bear to withstand.

She looked away from him, glancing to see the light had changed to green once again, the zooming cars trapping her there in the bike lane with her brother. Charlie tugged her arm free, drenching her foot in an ever growing puddle as she stepped away, pulling her arms around her body as she watched the passing traffic for a few seconds. 

Harvey finally opened his mouth as Charlie stepped once again into the street, her eyes spotting a narrow opportunity to cross before his words could grasp her and hold her there… Harvey hesitated to follow for only a second, long enough that by the time he went after her, a car was honking after slamming on their brakes to avoid hitting him.

Charlie didn’t turn back. She didn’t even flinch as she kept walking, the purpose in her newly flared by her brother’s proximity. 

It was stupid. Charlie knew it was, but she needed to reach FDR Drive. She needed to see the East River. She needed the control that came with following through on something she’d said she was going to do, even if it was something as dumb as this, something that meant nothing, fueled only by her misplaced anger at her brother. Fueled by a bit of childishness. 

And lord, did Charlie feel childish. Her brother was right. At the core of it, Harvey had seen through her outburst, at least part of the way. 

Charlie had been looking for his attention. A little connection. A small measure of confirmation. Charlie had wanted—no, needed—to know that Harvey still saw her. That he recognized that something wasn’t right.

She needed to know that he would help her fix it. She needed to know that all of this was still worth it to him. That whatever pay off he got out of raising her was still worth the trouble, even now. Even when she wasn’t the little kid who had been easy to deal with. Even with her as thoroughly messed up as she felt. 

Even with her arguing with him in the office and giving chase in the middle of a rainstorm… 

Because the older Charlie got, the more she realized how big of a sacrifice her brother had made. She understood what he’d given up—what he was still actively giving up—on her behalf. And maybe that was an answer in itself. 

Maybe Charlie should have been able to read enough into that, but some part of her needed to hear him say it. She knew she was a burden. Charlie knew she was a pain in his ass, a drain on his resources, a drain on his life. 

Those were things she didn’t need him to say. And it seemed that Charlie was always adding to that list, creating more problems. Asking him to give more of himself. More of his life.  More of his freedom. More of his time. More of his patience. More of his money. More of his help. 

Help. Charlie supposed that was what she had truly been after, what she had spent days and weeks working herself to ask after. It shouldn’t have been difficult. Charlie knew her brother wouldn’t say no. He wouldn’t ignore her needs. He wouldn’t make her feel poorly about it either, but it had still been difficult to find the words, difficult to find the nerve to say something wasn’t right. 

Because it seemed that nobody else needed help. Paying someone to talk felt extravagant. Childish. As though Charlie should have been able to sort through things on her own. As if she should have been able to push through, but she couldn’t. 

She was stuck and she was tired and confused and hurt. Hurt by the fact that no one had seemed to notice that she was each of those things. Hurt that no one had noticed she was struggling. Hurt that Harvey hadn’t seen it. 

Charlie finally reached the highway and she was so tired of walking, so tired of running. The water was right there. Just a flight of stairs and a pedestrian bridge stood between Charlie and the small riverside park that occupied the space between the East River and the highway. 

She was so close, just there, but with a little protection from the rain as she stood beneath the bridge, she couldn’t bring herself to move. All drive had left her and deep down, some part of Charlie feared that it wouldn’t soothe her. It wouldn’t help anything. Some part of her feared she would see the raging waters and realize none of it compared to what she felt inside. 

She lowered herself to the steps. The wind was something fierce so close to the water, barely blocked out by the buildings surrounding the bridge, but Charlie barely felt the cold, all of it somehow blocked out of her consciousness. 

She wished she could do the same to the sensations in her mind, her heart, but they continued to swirl and pummel her, even as Harvey slid down onto the step beside her. 

There had been a hundred things on Harvey’s mind to say as he trailed after her, but now that Charlie was in front of him, now that he saw her hunched over with her head down over her knees, Harvey could only remember one of them. 

He was sorry, so goddamn sorry for saying what he did. For letting this go on as long as he had. For letting his bad day get to him. 

Her jacket was soaked, but Harvey still slid it over Charlie’s shoulders and pulled her against him. Charlie didn’t push him away, didn’t so much as flinch at the contact, and Harvey set his hand on her back, rubbing small circles as she remained folded over, closed in on herself, the fact that she was crying only knowable to Harvey because he knew her so well, could read her well-enough. 

Even if he had fucked up. Even if he had read her wrong. He had thought to give her space, to let her come to him when she was ready, but it had been a mistake. 

Charlie heard her brother apologize, heard him say that he shouldn’t have said what he did, heard him say that he should’ve listened better, and for some reason, the words didn’t help. For some reason, the words hurt, a bit of guilt coursing through her as they landed. 

She lifted her head just enough to see him, just enough to meet his eye. 

“It’s my fault,” she mumbled, shaking her head. 

Harvey frowned and heaved a sigh as he looked away for a moment, to the rain that had started falling suddenly harder. Charlie was still looking at him when he turned back. “How about I let you take 10% for ruining my favorite suit?” 

“It’s wrecked.” 

“Better a ruined suit than…” Harvey’s breath caught on the words and he swallowed hard. “The suit’s replaceable,” he offered. “How about we head home?” 

“What about—?”

“I’m done for the day.” Harvey didn’t bother to say that he knew she needed him more just now. He didn’t bother to say that he needed to be with her just now, either. “And as you so eloquently pointed out, my suit’s wrecked. If I look half as bad as you, they probably won’t even let me in the lobby.” 

Charlie let out a soft snort, something resembling a smile almost gracing her face as she assessed him, drenched suit and messy hair. 

“What do you say?” 

Charlie nodded and Harvey fished his phone from his pocket to call for a car. Charlie seemed to zone out, staring ahead, and Harvey reached out to rub her back again as he ordered their car, rattling off the closest cross streets. 

“Come on,” Harvey said, guiding her up from the step a few moments after hanging up. Charlie slid her arms into the coat as they stepped out from under the bridge, walking towards the street. Harvey stepped to the right—the car would pick them up on First Avenue, but Charlie stepped the other way, towards the brick barricade at the other end of the street. 

Harvey followed after her, settling beside her as they both leaned on the ledge, looking out over the highway below, towards the park on the far side and the water just beyond that. 

Charlie felt Harvey’s hand fall on her shoulder and she turned toward him, blinking at the burning tears in her eyes. 

“Thank you for coming after me. For…” 

Everything.

The word didn’t quite make it out and Charlie tried to swallow at the stubborn lump in her throat. 

Harvey pulled her in, hugging her against his chest. He didn’t need her to say it to know. 

“That’s what I’m here for.” 

Charlie hugged him back, letting the relief wash over her, some part of her convinced it would be okay. There was a breadth of words left unsaid between them, a conversation that needed to take place, plans that would need to be made, but that would come later. When they were back home, dry and warm. 

Charlie needed that conversation to take place. She needed to tell her brother all she had been holding in. She needed his help to sort it all, but for now, this was enough. The few words they’d shared and the comfort of their closeness was enough to soothe them both, enough to get them through a long car ride home in rush hour traffic on a rainy Friday.

And if it was enough to get them through that, it was enough to get them through anything…

–

Suits (Lines to Live By) Masterlist

[clown-machine]

only in TFA? and some of the movies I think? most of the time they run on Energon, which changes forms in different continuities and media.

Most of the other tf fans in the notes are just saying 'no they run on energon, duh', but I think that only answers one of the questions here. Would Captain Planet think they're friends just because the fuel they use isn't a fossil fuel from earth? Sometimes energon is just a magical/scifi physical manifestation of electrical power and can be harvested from renewable resources(like g1 where they got it from dams and power plants and such). Other times it is a finite resource of magical crystals or glowing liquid that needs to be mined (series in the Aligned continuity and a lot of assorted media use energon as a source of the Autobot/Decepticon war in the first place, it's finite and Cybertron is DYING from energon harvesting). Also there might be some continuities where energon itself is a renewable resource or has sustainable alternatives? (synth en in TFP and some post-war comics touch on this, as well as Earthspark's Terrans running from a new fuel that seems to be generated by Earth through magic.)

Energon is usually shown to be clean-burning or at least have less exhaust than is typical of gasoline irl (That is probably mainly due to animation simplification, but optimus will usually have one or two moments spitting smoke from his exhaust pipes per series, as if he runs diesel like a real semi truck.) Energon seems to usually work as a combustible fuel (it explodes), but then again its not really clear how much of transformer physiology is electronic and how much is mechanical, but I don't think any series have stated transformers have a separate battery like cars do so I think it all is supposed to be powered by energon? Sure a transformer can scan and change vehicle mode to an electric model, but they would still be taking in energon and utilizing that resource the same as someone with a diesel or even coal-burning alt mode! (I dont know all that much about cars and i dont know every tf series feel free to correct me.)

Captain Planet would probably have a different opinion series to series, but for the most part he would have to contend with the fact that the Transformers are sentient alien lifeforms without the ability to change fuel source; their carbon emissions are a necessity of life like animal methane production. So unless energon in that context is clean and sustainable/has clean and sustainable alternatives, they could very well be enemies that Captain Planet feels the need to destroy.

[tereatv]

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[isabelpsaroslunnen]

Trump has some opinions on the PNW's water

[An Oregon Live headline says "Trump calls for opening 'very large faucet' in PNW to send water to California. Then Terez on Bluesky added a transcript of the relevant section of his speech:

So you have millions of gallons of water pouring down from the north, with the snowcaps in Canada and all pouring down, and they have a ... essentially a very large faucet, and you turn the faucet, and it takes one day to turn it—it's massive; it's as big as the wall of the building right there behind you—and you turn that, and all of that water goes into the ... aimlessly into the Pacific. And if they turned it back, all of that water would come right down here, and right into Los Angeles; they wouldn't have to have people not use more than 30 gallons, 32 gallons—they want to do that, you know; they're trying to do that—and you have so much water, and all those fields that are right now barren, and the farmers would have all the water they needed. And you could revert water up into the hills. We have all the dead forests, where the forests are so brittle, cause no place is like California. I go to Austria ..... the head of Austria [he could not remember what the head of Austria was called] tells me, you know, we have trees that are much more flammable than what you have in California; we never have forest fires. Because they maintain their forests. And you have all that water that could be used to ... as water ... what they call water flow where the war - wa - you know, war ... the land would be damp. And you'd stop many of these horrible fires that are costing billions and billions of dollars by the federal government et cetera.]

[ievamorta]

"don't vote democrat because they give money to israel" mfs when republicans win and send money to israel while also making sure you're imprisoned and unofficially killed for being queer.

Hear me, an eastern european, tell you what power hungry traditions-above-everything men do, they fuck everyone up for their own fantasy, and if you are eligible to vote in the US, vote for fucking Biden. Stop acting like not voting is the better thing, because it's not, voting neither is the same as voting Trump. Voting neither is the same as saying you give 0 fucks about the people dying for Ukraine and it's sovereignty.

If you care for human life, you don't let Trump win. Period. Just because Biden will most likely let Israel continue the genocide, it is not better to stay out of voting and let the guy WHO WILL DEFINITELY ENCOURAGE THE GENOCIDE win.

Don't hide behind the dead people at Gaza to conceal your inability to act. Death happens, it will always happen, this is a very bloody fight and sacrifices will be made, innocent people will die without reason in a cruel unjust way.

Vote blue, get blood on your hands, but for the love of all that's fucking holy, understand that having blood on your hands is still better than having blood all over yourself. Because by not voting, you're helping a man kill more than Palestinians.

Some of yall needed to hear this

Credits to @/mattxiv on Instagram

[decorationinside]

Uniting Old and New Styles in Modern Interior Design

[silver-la-pixels]

So my family is supposed to be moving to the literal desert later this year. Idk if I'll have all my college credits by then, idk what I'm gonna do for a job, idk if we'll be able to keep my cat (everyone but me is allergic to him) and I'm just supposed to move to hot, rainless, densely populated, dirt land. I dont have friends here, but I was planning in my college life, moving out and stuff in 1-2 years and now wtf just bc my dad liked the idea of being a cowboy so he looked for jobs there.

[theastrohub]

what city you should live in based on your moon sign ⏾

astrology can help you make an informed decision for something as significant as where one will live. and especially if you are a more hedonistic person like myself, choosing a place to live with a focus on personal satisfaction is a guaranteed upgrade in quality of life. it also helps you narrow down what your true emotional needs are and live a life more in alignment with your truest self.

choosing what city to live in based on your moon sign helps an individual with emotional fulfillment, being able to create a sense of belonging, stress reduction, enhanced creativity and productivity, better romantic and platonic relationships, and so much more.

here are my thoughts on your ideal city based on your moon sign:

一

⏾ virgo moon 一

kobe, japan + washington, D.C. (USA) + zurich, switzerland

you likely prefer a clean, walkable city that is health-conscious. ideal cities have paved roads, a lack of industrial machines or well-regulated factories, and a structured, straightforward urban planning model. a city safe enough to raise babies and young children is your benchmark. you value a city that emphasizes logical aspects of life. air pollution and trash management are crucial, so you'd thrive in cities with high air quality indexes, like those mentioned above.

一

⏾ libra moon 一

florence, italy + brooklyn, new york + capetown, south africa + amsterdam, netherlands + paris, france

as one of my favorite moon signs, you truly appreciate beauty, harmony, and aesthetics in where and how you live. you love cultured cities with plenty of artistic experiences. perhaps you're an artist yourself, seeking communities where you can express that creativity. a city that offers a balance of cityscape, mountainscape, and access to bodies of water appeals to your sense of harmony. you’re drawn to colorful, multicultural environments where you can accumulate luxury goods.

一

⏾ scorpio moon 一

new orleans, louisiana + mumbai, india + providence, rhode island

this one is tricky because scorpio Moons are known for being extremely intense and private, which doesn't always translate to a livable city (think Bermuda Triangle). however, you likely value transformative experiences and a form of social power. you want to be in a city that matches your intensity—a place that might be politically involved, spiritually inclined, or even part of some controversy. communities where you can explore taboo subjects or rise within social hierarchies are ideal for you.

一

⏾ sagittarius moon 一

toronto, canada + prage, czech republic + krabi, thailand + dubai, UAE

as one of the more hedonistic moon signs, you crave freedom—to be, to do, to have, etc. you prefer cities with a lot of versatility for living, offering options like big homes, sprawling lofts, small cozy one-bedrooms, and everything in between. cultured and religious cities appeal to your belief system, which is crucial to you. You need a place where you can live your philosophies freely and have fun. a city with many opportunities for adventure and easy access to other exciting places is essential. think road trips, bungee jumping, scuba diving.

一

⏾ capricorn moon 一

london, england + manhattan, new york + melbourne, australia

one word: old-fashioned. capricorns are often seen as traditional, and there's a reason for that. as a capricorn moon, you value cities that operate like institutions—places that have stood the test of time without much change to their foundation. ambition and hard work are of utmost importance, so cities with a professional or hustle culture appeal to you. you are drawn to cities in countries with a strong identity or culture that gratify your sense of tradition. cities where you can network, accumulate wealth, and indulge in luxuries are your ideal.

一

⏾ aquarius moon 一

san francisco, california + rome, italy + new orleans, louisiana + portland, oregon

with pluto in aquarius, I anticipate more moves for aquarius moons, which is great because this is the most community-centered sign in my opinion. aquarius moons value living in cities where they can positively contribute, socialize, and build relationships based on shared interests. you are drawn to innovative, creative cities that are always ahead of trends. you also appreciate cities that are civically mindful and contribute to humanitarian efforts on both local and grand scales.

一

⏾ pisces moon 一

bali, indonesia + bora bora, french polynesia + rome, italy + paris, france

pisces moons are one of the moon signs that truly need to feel "drawn" to a place before visiting or residing there. emotional fulfillment, romance, and creativity are non-negotiable for pisces moons. because of this, beautiful, artistic cities with many opportunities to be near bodies of water are ideal. beach cities and honeymoon destinations are perfect for pisces Moons' empathic and sensitive nature. A city with a calm undercurrent is essential to satisfy your need for rest and peace.

一

⏾ aries moon 一

rome, italy + los angeles, california + tokyo, japan + cairo, egypt + mumbai, india

similar to capricorn moon, its cardinal sibling, aries moons need the opportunity to keep on the go wherever they live. For this reason, you're best suited to "cities that never sleep"—places where you can stay active, compete in major global industries, and reach newer heights. you're drawn to cities with fiery traditions and those that excel in national rankings. you also appreciate cities that are vocal about their value systems and embrace trends.

一

⏾ taurus moon 一

honolulu, hawaii + havana, cuba + las vegas, nevada + ibiza, spain + tokyo, japan

much like libra moons, venus-ruled moons love venus-ruled cities. taurus moons enjoy cities that are comfortable in every sense—materially, socially, politically, and aesthetically. you appreciate cities that are openly hedonistic—notorious vacation spots are actually great places for you to establish yourself. cities with strong tourism markets are good for your desire for material success as they are epicenters of culture and attract people from all walks of life.

一

⏾ gemini moon 一

chicago, illinois + boston, massachusetts + cairo, egypt + lisbon, portugal

as a gemini moon, cities that are versatile, education-centered, and logical are appealing to you. you thrive in places where "everyone knows everyone" and socializing is a priority. cities known for their educational institutions and vibrant social life satisfy your need for variety and communication. cities with a strong tourist presence are also appealing, as you enjoy the ability to feel like a tourist in your own city at any time.

一

⏾ cancer moon 一

sydney, australia + niagara falls , new york + instanbul, turkey + berne, switzerland + mogadishu, somalia

cancer moons love domestic cities that are more feminine in nature. Like their sister sign capricorn, they strongly value traditions, both cultural and social, but in a softer manner. they prefer cities with a strong influence by women and things traditionally associated with women, like fashion, beauty, and the arts. cities with beaches and a strong luminary presence are essential, as they are the water-bearers of the zodiac. cities with a balance between domesticity and capitalism appeal to their need for material security and a good home. a city with a strong real estate market and that is ideal for newlyweds and families is also preferred.

一

⏾ leo moon 一

los angeles, california + miami, florida + mexico city, mexico + marrakesh, morocco + ibiza, spain

much like aquarius moons, the need to be around people is prominent with leo moons. leo moons value being in cities that honor appearance and aesthetics. being seen, being talked about, romance, and play are priority for a leo moon when moving. a city where they can explore artistic pursuits and new cultures. cities that promote health and wellness and image. cities with social hierarchies and strong social networks. cities that are "popular" with the whole world. also cities that are known for night-life and social life. cities where you can regularly rub elbows with important people and indulge in the grandiosities of life.

⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎

the moon in astrology is a gateway to a deeper understanding of one's desires, needs, and motivations which can help in making better-informed decisions on where to move or establish a life. I highly suggest you take this into consideration on your next trip or relocation.

thank you for reading 💋

@astrobaeza

for more: [ paidservices ₊ masterlist ₊ tips ]

[hb-writes]

The Thick of It

Summary: Charlie Specter is in the midst of an absolutely terrific new fantasy series and she won't let anything get in the way of devouring it...well, with some minor exceptions such as the minimally required amount of sleep to stay functioning and revenge against her cold-handed brother.

Prompt (from anon): "Your hands are cold" with Charlie and Harvey <3

Characters: Harvey Specter & Charlie Specter

Warnings: some allusion to cursing, but nothing really. Pretty in love with this one, actually.

Suits (Lines to Live By) Masterlist

With a little more than two hundred pages left to the third book in her new favorite series, Charlie hadn���t found much reason to stop reading the night before. She was exhausted from a long week at school and she had a paper due on Monday that probably should have taken at least slight precedence, but it was a weekend. Time to let loose. Time for a little self care. 

That’s what she had told Harvey anyway when he returned from his date to find Charlie there on the couch in her robe and three blankets. He had scoffed at her excuse and her excessive blankets—it was a little cold out, the temperatures in the city plummeting a bit prematurely considering it was only October—but he had shifted the thermostat by a few degrees anyhow. Better to do that than to listen to her complain all weekend. 

Because Charlie had made it clear that she had no interest in leaving the house, not with the temperature where it was and the rain that was forecasted, and not considering she was in the grip of those books he had barely seen her without over the last few weeks. 

He’d amassed nothing from the titles. If someone had asked, he’d have told them his sister was reading something called The Royal House of Stone & Fire & Snowfall…or something like that. He didn’t have a clue what it was, but Charlie had told him they were fantasy novels, leaving it at that.

Falling asleep when she did, sprawled on the couch at 4:37 am, with the apartment dim and just one little lamp left on to illuminate the words on the page…well, that had been an accident. Charlie hadn’t meant to fall asleep, especially seeing as she’d made it so far—only two chapters left in the book. 

She wasn’t sure how she had even left things off where she did. She’d always had the distinct feeling that by setting down a book in the thick of it, she was just leaving the characters she had come to love steeped in crisis, leaving them suspended there in whatever terrible bit of plot the author had written them into. And Charlie had left her new favorite characters in something akin to hell since falling asleep nearly two hours before. 

She fell asleep with the sounds of a fictional battle echoing in her mind, but the apartment had been still and silent when she awoke. Still and silent and…empty? Some part of her was disappointed for giving in to her mortal needs not finishing the book already, but another distinct part of her thought maybe falling asleep had been a blessed thing seeing as Harvey was already gone, a note left on the kitchen counter explaining that he’d gone out for a run. A run that he no doubt would have dragged Charlie out on if she was awake when he’d come through. It sounded like a particularly unsavory type of hell to her—running in the freezing cold, gray skies threatening rain and preventing the sun from making any sort of noticeable rise.

Truth be told, Charlie was a little surprised Harvey hadn’t tried to wake her, hadn’t tried to convince her to join, but considering how out of it she felt now, barely functioning as she went about starting the coffee maker, Charlie thought it possible that her brother did try to wake her before giving up and determining her to be a lost cause. 

The coffee maker began brewing and Charlie shuffled back across the room, to the couch and her book, burrowing back beneath the covers and reclaiming the warmth she’d left there. She’d be done with this book within the hour and she was glad that she had the next one beside her on the coffee table…glad she’d thought ahead to get it out of the library before the weekend, but for now…Charlie dove back into battle, rejoining her friends in the thick of it.

“Do I need to get your damned ears checked?” 

Charlie didn’t even remember hearing her brother come in though Harvey’s tone suggested there’d been at least a few other questions preceding that one. Charlie thought she might have even heard a whisper of those questions, but it was hard to tell. If anything, Harvey’s voice had been on the distant periphery of Charlie’s awareness almost like the ghost of an echo or a calling from another world entirely because as far as she could tell, she wasn’t really here. Not in New York. Not in their penthouse. Not on the couch in her pajamas. Certainly not in the same space and time as her brother.

“Huh?” she asked, not bothering to pull her eyes away from the book. She didn’t need her eyes to hear him. Or her focus. And if she did those things, whatever Harvey had to say was going to have to wait because Charlie was busy, and about 97% elsewhere, with only a handful of pages left to go.

She jumped as Harvey’s hand, the one that was indeed located in the very real, very cold world that was New York, clasped down on the exposed skin at the back of her neck. Reconciling very quickly with the concepts of time and space and temperature, Charlie scrambled to push him away, still holding the book open with one hand as she grabbed at his arm.

“Stop it, Harvey. Your hands are cold!” 

Harvey chuckled as Charlie struggled, part of his savoring the warmth because his fingers were, in fact, frozen. “Are they?” he asked, releasing his grip only to settle the back of his chilled hand against her cheek. 

“Yes!” She hissed, lifting the book and using it to smack his arm. “Do it again and I’ll break your fingers.”

Harvey pulled his hand away, but Charlie still hit him again for good measure, finding she rather enjoyed the resounding thump the paperback made upon contact even if the deviation was keeping her from finishing the story.

Harvey raised an eyebrow and Charlie stilled, arm mid-swing. “You hit me with that book again and I’m chucking the goddamned thing off the balcony.”

“I’m almost done with it so whatever,” Charlie lowered her arm, finding her page once again as she settled back into the couch. “Give me three minutes to finish reading and maybe I’ll take a whack at your head next time.” 

She was about to start reading again, but Charlie turned to Harvey instead, the sickly-sweet, smug smile she’d intended on giving him falling from her face as Harvey held up the next book in the series after he snatched it from the coffee table.

“Yeah, and what about this one?” 

Charlie set her current book down, readying herself to stand. “You wouldn’t dare. Give it back or—” Harvey shrugged, fitting the book under his arm and Charlie growled.

“Harvey, give it back!”  

She reached out for the book, leaning over the back of the couch even as Harvey took a step back.

“How about you tone down the grumpy and take a nap, and I’ll think about it?”

Charlie huffed, turning away from him to resettle amongst her blankets and her book. “You’re a real jerk, you know that? A real ass—” 

Charlie shouted, quickly ducking down under the covers after the book slammed against the back of her head, the thump no longer quite as satisfying when it was her body it was making contact with. She had half a mind to go after him again, to start an all out war if that’s what he wanted, but it was a fleeting thought as she weighed her options. 

As she weighed the book in her hands and recalled that not only did Harvey have a fair bit of weight and height and strength up on her, but he also held the fourth book in the series in his hands, the longest and thickest book of the series so far. 

“Alright, alright. Truce, please,” she called out from beneath the blankets, already deciding that although she would let it go for now, Charlie would get her brother back later, whenever she finally got to the sixth book and it’s impressive 1067 pages…a verifiable tome that she had already confirmed was only available in hardcover format at the local library.

Suits (Lines to Live By) Masterlist

[ms-demeanor]

"I'm sorry my evil empire killed your friends but I'm going to keep working to make sure myself and all the other imperials get clean sidewalks and fluffy socks and sandwiches :)"

Let's be honest the only good ending here is the collapse of the USA. I hope for your sake it's relatively quick and bloodless but I hope more that it happens.

What can I say? I am sorry that the evil empire I live in killed your friends. I don't think it should do that. I've been protesting wars since 2003 because I don't think it should do that.

I'm sorry you have it worse than me, and I'm sorry if the things that I'm doing to help people in an area where I can help people don't make your life better. That's rough buddy, but I'm not sure why you're talking to me about it because the things you're doing aren't going to make much of an impact on my day either.

I'm not sure if you're familiar with how US anarchists work, but generally when we talk about handing out hygiene kits and food, it is to unhoused people. If you think that unhoused Americans deserve to be hungry, or don't deserve clean socks or wipes to help prevent debilitating infections because they live in an imperialist nation that bombs people and installs dictators, well, you kind of sound like a piece of shit and it doesn't make me particularly sympathetic to your position.

[elodieunderglass]

Different tools for different purposes. Induction electric stoves, for example, are the simple best choice for homes with safety needs. Gas stoves are the simple best choice when camping, off-grid, living in a vehicle. A skilled cook can handle either and produce the exact same material; therefore your consideration should be your other needs.

[oimitocat]

YOU TELL ME | OS

༘۠ hyunjin x artist! m!reader

༘۠ falling in love + nsfw + one night stand + fan (hyunjin) x artist (reader) + masturbation + teasing + getting together

༘۠ a/n; nothing else to add, just that the nsfw is more like a flashback than full blown smut

“this week’s biggest news! artist y/n is doing a world tour! the rising artist had caught a lot of attention not only from his new album that has reached top fifty on the billboard charts but also prying eyes from his recent attendance at a fashion event in seoul, korea! the artist has spoken about his—”

hyunjin zones out after half of the video. the video of y/n smiling catching his full attention. you have a beautiful smile, one he had fallen in love with even more the moment he saw you in person at the fashion event. up until now he’s only been seeing you through his phone, hoping for a chance in his schedule to visit your concerts and get an autograph.

“how about i sign you instead of this picture?” you ask with a mischievous grin.

“—the artist is dropping his tour list today at eight pm. comment down where you live and if you’re excited to hear his newest album in person!”

hyunjin look at the time at the top of his phone screen. it’s 6:30 am right now. which means the tour list already dropped. he quickly goes to your instagram and squeals at the sight of the post. his eyes rack the list but his smile falters after a while. you’re going to the usa, italy, portugal, germany and spain. not korea. of course, no one really comes to korea. he sighs, turning his phone off and staring out into the darkness of his room.

“i’m sorry?” he asked, confused at what you had said. “sign me?”

immediately, a paper is held up to hyunjin by a man standing next to y/n. hyunjin recognizes the paper, he doesn’t even have to read what’s on it. he knows. he looks up at you, startled and bewildered. is this… for real?

he had managed to get you on the way to the restroom. the event was still going, everyone is still sitting and socializing. he turns to his own escort. he’s never been in this situation, he himself has never asked a fan to sign the nda contract. as exhilarating as this is, it’s also very… embarrassing.

“hyunjin, right?” you ask, snapping him out of his mental turmoil. “don’t you want to get to know me?”

hyunjin swallows, “pen?”

the sight of your grin growing makes him want to combust in the spot.

he turns over, groaning out of embarrassment. did he have to sound so stupidly nervous? he can’t complain though, at the end of the day he got to experience something even better with you. the memory itself makes him a hot mess. all he had asked was when your new album would drop. he made conversation for once because it was literally a once in a lifetime opportunity.

and well…

the hotel. you were escorted to the hotel thirty minutes away from the event. the whole event you kept glancing at him. eye fucking him. not just him though, he was aware of everyone else eyeing him — yet, your eyes were what mattered most to him. he’s smiling to himself, biting his thumb until the time arrives.

he even texted felix, letting him know he’s on the verge of throwing up from nerves. all he received was a ‘liar, stop being delusional’. to which he replies with a picture of you serving him a glass of wine.

he pulls up that exact picture, eyeing your side profile. your hands— “oomf,” he groans, shoving his face into the pillow. those same hands that roamed his body.

he doesn’t exactly know what to say, he just listens to you talk. yet, his eyes are on you hand. the rings that decorate your fingers. you have one on each finger except the thumb.

he asked about it after you finish talking about how the event security did another artist dirty. you pause, looking at him intensely before smiling.

“it’s more aesthetically pleasing that way. don’t worry though, i’ll have my hands clean for you.” he stares at you with wide eyes as you lean in, after all, i want to feel you under them.”

and he leans in to kiss you.

hyunjin turns his phone off again, screaming into his pillow. the nerve he had! to kiss you! what if you thought he was desperate. well, regardless, what’s done is done. you had him and he had you. the desperation was both sided…

“you know you’re beautiful, right? why say it?” you say as you slide your hands up his inner thighs, feeling the firmness of his muscles. “you’re already a work of art,” he whines when your hand grazes his hardened member. “let me add some final touches though.”

you kiss his jaw, slowly going further down his neck. there’s a spot that get a gasp out of him. you kiss and lick, humming and moaning at his noises. he sounds so beautiful. you kiss down his collabone, his chest. as you reach his nipple, you bring your other hand up to his neck. the weight of your hand— ringless, because you had taken them off before bringing him to the bed— making him whimper. you suck and nibble on his hardened bud. he jolts and writhes under you, you have to add some pressure on his neck to get him to behave.

it’s hot. really hot. hyunjin almost cums from your attention alone. you kiss further down, your hand leaving his neck and coming down to his thighs. he gasps and buckles his hips when you kiss his leaking tip.

“don’t worry pretty,” you breathe out, smiling at how undone he’s becoming in your hands, “you’ll get what you want.” and you take him in your mouth.

hyunjin moans as he cums in his hand. he goes limp on his bed, airy breaths leaving his mouth. he closes his eyes, the last smile you threw at him before leaving the hotel replaying in his head. he remembers how weak his legs were after hours of you pounding him into the sheets. after coming four times and the aftercare that came with it.

it was so much.

yet so little.

——

weeks pass by. months. hyunjin is stuck reminiscing on the past, at some point he doesn’t. his schedule gets hectic again. there is hope though. hope that one day you two could do something again or maybe just text. it’s not possible though, his management wouldn’t allow it unless the two of you undergo some sort of process. which sucks.

he’s being delusional, especially now with how he was told two months ago that they will be attending an award ceremony. the billboard awards.

the practice is crazy. the schedule is hectic. he wants to barf at some point because you’re going to be somewhere near his seat and the thought alone makes him nervous. will you treat him indifferently? will you act like nothing happened?

“you good?” felix asks, snapping him out of his thoughts.

they’re backstage now, ready to perform.

“i wanna throw up,” he confesses, giving felix a look.

the younger catches on fast. almost everyone in the group already knows now, his anxiety as the day of the awards drew near was too worrying. they all assured him they’ll have his back, yet he still doesn’t know what he’ll do if he really does become another person on your list that was a one time thing. obviously, it’s better for both of you for it to not repeat.

yet, he can’t help but be hopeful. as much as he knows it’s for the best… as much as he knows that the contract strictly says this will not be repeated… why is his heart so yearning?

he doesn’t mean to. he looks across the stage and glides over the countless faces before them when they finish their stage.

“wonderful work out there!” their managers yell out as they all file backstage. “if anyone needs to use the bathroom go now.”

“i’m good,” seungmin shrugs.

“come with me?” felix asks hyunjin, who nods.

hyunjin and felix are the only ones that go. felix happily praises him for “not spilling your guts out! see? all good!”

hyunjin rolls his eyes and shoves felix into the stall. he waits outside by the sinks, looking at himself in the mirror. he’s damp with sweat, his hair is still a little messy, they’ll do touch ups once they return.

the door opens, he’s not a social person, so he shies away and doesn’t dare look at the person.

“hey hyunjin,” you say loud enough for him to hear. he turns around, almost getting whiplash. you were standing before him, smiling warmly. “you look great,” you grin, “i’ve always wanted to see you perform…”

“ah, th-thank you, you perform in a bit, r-right?” hyunjin can’t believe it.

“yeah but…” you look around, “we could perform something else together later…”

hyunjin blinks. he wants to be swallowed up whole right now. felix is here. “i- uh…”

“hey, sorry, i don’t want us to just be hooking up… it’s hard to get past your management,” you hum, “let’s stay in contact. i liked talking to you, yeah we had fun but i like hearing your stories.”

hyunjin swallows, “ah yeah… me too, um, i could fight something out for us.”

“i’ll give you my personal number,” you offer, “just for you.”

you’re a lot closer now. he looks down at your lips, “okay, i’d like that.”

“awesome, good to know we’re on the same page.” you chuckle. “wanna wish me good luck on the stage?”

hyunjin can’t help but give you a look, “you don’t need luck, y/n.” he leans in and pecks your lips, “a kiss yes, but luck?”

you’re quite taken aback, really. yet, you grin, “yeah, i need you more.”

“ah, my teammate is here,” he ushers, panicked.

“ah,” you laugh. “okay then, one more kiss will do just fine.”

hyunjin’s heart could practically leap out of his chest.

and he kisses you, arms around your neck. he doesn’t want to let go, but with how sweet you’re being, he knows he’ll see you a lot sooner again. the hug you give him feels so good, he wishes you two had more time.

later, when you win an award. the words that come out of your mouth makes him want to die then and there.

“-and i also want to thank that person that gave me a good luck charm before coming here. i was good with just that but now having this award it feels like i have it all, thank you all for supporting me until now! i hope you continue to support me!”

felix’s side eye is something hyunjin might never live down.

[little-annie]

It's in the kitchen of their shitty little 1.5 bedroom apartment that Eddie Munson continues to bemoan his roommates request for him to watch the 2024 Olympic Games with her this evening.

“Christine Henrietta Cunningham,” he starts with a sigh, wiping the reminentes of yet another YooHoo from his upper lip, leaning a narrow hip against the countertop's edge, “there is no way in hell you are getting me to watch the Olympics.”

Already wearing her team USA sweater, Chrissy tries to protest. Just as she did last night and the night before. For some reason thinking it's such a dire thing that Eddie watches the Olympics this year.

“First of all, not my middle name. Second-”

“You would literally have to glue my eyeballs open.”

“Second-” she tries again, voice stern, pointing a yellowed spoon in Eddie's direction as she dishes up a bowl of Kraft Dinner for them both.

“There is not now, nor will there ever be, any reason for me to watch juiced up jocks prance around and play any form of sportsball.”

There's so many reasons. Christ. Fuck. So many. But he's not telling Chrissy that. He'll watch the reruns when she's not home. He couldn't possibly be caught dead after last time.

“What about the swim-”

“Not even Gandalf himself,” Eddie interrupts, “-could convince me to waste my precious campaign planning time on such a thing.”

Following Chrissy to the living room, bowl of macaroni in hand, Eddie refuses to sit down next to her on the couch. He's not going to watch. Nope. Maybe sneak a peak in passing? Sure. But not watch. Are you kidding me?

“What a about To-”

The metal spoon that was once in Eddie's hand chatters to the floor as he mock gasps. Neon yellow noodles on the tile that the cat comes running over to clean up, Eddie stands in abject horror. She wouldn't dare.

“Don't you dare say what I think you're about to say, Christine. My 2020 not obsession with Tom Daley shan't be spoken of. It was merely a blip in the system. A glitch in the matrix.”

He still thinks Tom Daley can get it. But that's neither here nor there. And what is there, is simply between Eddie and the well used bottle of lotion next to his bed.

Chrissy rolls her eyes, now sitting with her legs crossed on their ugly ass thrifted couch, patting the cushion next to her as if Eddie's a dog. “Eddie you literally watched every one of his ra-”

Races?

“I did not.”

Okay maybe we wanted to. Who wouldn't? But it's not like he obsessively watched every one of the man's races.

“... I missed two.” He admits Inna whisper.

And what a sheer travesty that'd had been

“Oh yeah. You missed two. Oh Edward, how could I forget?” After patting the cushion mindlessly next to her again and eating a spoonful of macaroni she faux whines, “‘Oh Chrissy, would you record the race for me? I don't want to miss it.’”

He doesn't sound like that.

“I do not sound lik-”

All pathetic and whiney? Eddie Munson doesn't sound like that.

“As if I would believe you actually gave two shits about the races you giant homo.” Chrissy rolls her eyes so hard Eddie's surprised she doesn't hurt her neck, “You just liked seeing those boys in spandex.”

Well…. She's not wrong. Sports are dumb. People playing sports for money is dumb. What the Olympics does to those cities in the aftermath of the event is dumb.

But she's not wrong.

Spandex

“…. I hate you”

“No you don't.” She smiles, blowing Eddie a kiss.

“Um. Yes I do.”

As if he could ever hate Chrissy.

Avoiding making eye contact with her as she continues to pat the cushion next to her and turning heel towards the hall, Eddie decides maybe it's just best to eat his supper in his room. Away from jockey spandex and its temptations, “Anyways. As I was saying. Fuck you and your jocky hobbies Chrissy.” Eddie yells from the hall, “My time is far too valuable to be wasted mindlessly drooling over arrogant jocks and their-”

In a sing-songy voice Eddie hears Chrissy call from behind him, “You're gonna want to watch this!”

He groans, turning back around from the journey he'd just started in the direction of his room, “I would rather di-” only to be caught short when a familiar mole dotted, spandex covered ass makes its way across his TV screen.

He'd recognize that ass anywhere.

Went to every goddamn swim meet at the stupid community pool to see that beautiful ass in motion for years.

He fawned over it in the halls of Hawkins High.

Drooled over it on the odd days he actually attended gym class. Tried to solely avoid eye contact with it when he found it bare and within reach in the change rooms only an hour later.

Fuck.

Eddie's knees feel weak and before he knows it he's climbing over the back of the couch, bowl of macaroni in his lap and mirroring Chrissy's position. Legs crossed. Eyes glued to the TV. Mindlessly eating chemicals that some big corporation somehow manages to pass off as macaroni and cheese.

“Is that Steve Harrington?”

Oh look at those moles.

Beautiful.

Those pecs?

Fucking hell.

“Christine!?” Eddie screeches from his position on the couch when Chrissy doesn't answer, just simply shrugs and smirks at him. The little devil. “Did I just see Harrington?”

“Told you, you'd want to see this.”

[sansaorgana]

I’ve never understood why we shoot off fireworks in the USA for the 4th, I just feel like it could trigger some of our veterans and it makes me feel awful! Could you write something like this with Buck?

hello! 💖 in my country we only shoot them on new year's eve but since I own two cats, I hate them 😡 one of my cats is so terrified each time that he literally has spasms 😥 the older he gets, the more worried I am each new year's eve tbh 😐 anyway, thank you for your request! 🎆 I was actually thinking of something like this with Buck!

I had to close my requests for now because I got so many 🙏🏻

It was the first Independence Day after the war and you were excited that you would celebrate it with your husband for the first time in two years. Especially now, after the victory, it felt more special than ever.

You decided to throw a barbecue for your befriended neighbours and you had been preparing the house and the garden for the whole week – putting up decorations with Buck’s help and cleaning everything. In the last two days you had also been busy with cooking meals and preparing salads while Buck had been supplying your fridge with everything needed for the barbecue – all sorts of meat, vegetables and sodas.

The only thing you hadn’t bought were the fireworks. You wanted to save some money, especially after hearing that different neighbours down the street were preparing a real show anyway. Surprisingly, Buck had agreed to that pretty quickly although you had expected him to try to convince you to get your own fireworks. Not because he had ever been a big fan of them but he never liked it when you were using the “saving money” argument. Whenever you would use it in different situations – like deciding whether to buy a dress or not – he would say “if it makes you happy, we can afford that”. And he knew very well that this barbecue party was making you happy.

However, you didn’t ask about it because it didn’t seem to be significant enough and you completely forgot about it anyway, too busy with all the preparations.

The barbecue started in the afternoon and the weather was beautiful on that day – clear, blue skies above you, giving you a perfect view of the fireworks here and there in the distance. You were handing the bottles of beer and coke to the guests while Buck was in charge of the barbecue when one of the neighbours asked a question that made you freeze.

“Damn, it’s like back there again, is it not?” He chuckled at Buck.

His name was Frank and he had been to Europe as well but not as a pilot. He was obviously referring to the fireworks in the background as he tried to turn it into a joke but his wife Helen hissed at him.

You suddenly realised that the sound of fireworks was not the same to everyone and you looked at your husband, worried. He might have seemed to be pretty alright after the horrors he had endured but you knew him better than everyone else and you knew. You knew about his nightmares and panic attacks. They were rare but they still were happening, sometimes triggered by the things you had never thought of before as threatening. Like with the fireworks.

“I don’t pay attention to them,” Buck gave Frank a kind smile. “My brain just shuts the sound off at this point,” he explained and he seemed to be genuine in his answer, which made you sigh in relief.

You went back to handing out the sodas and glanced at the watch on your hand. It was half an hour until the fireworks show promised by the neighbours living down the street.

When everyone had a bottle of their chosen beverage already, you joined your husband’s side to help him with the meat and vegetables. Rubbing his arm softly and laughing at the jokes being told by the others, you felt happy and satisfied with your life. Finally, after such a long time, it was back to normal, you thought. Well, nearly.

Everyone was sitting by the table in your garden and talking when you realised you had forgotten to bring mustard and ketchup.

“I’ll get it,” Buck smiled at you and stood up.

“Grab me a can of coke from the fridge, too, darling,” you told him and he nodded before disappearing inside the house.

A short moment later, the fireworks show started. Your neighbours living down the street had to spend a real fortune on it because the fireworks were many and very, very loud. You gasped and watched in awe as others stood up and cheered.

You, Helen and Frank were the only ones left sitting by the table. From the corner of your eye, you spotted that Frank’s face changed. He was no longer smiling and his skin lost some of its colour. Helen was squeezing his shaky hands and whispering something to him.

A very loud firework made you flinch while others screamed out of joy and Frank jumped on his seat. You stood up rapidly, realising that Buck hadn’t come back from the house yet.

“Helen, listen,” you leaned in to talk to her despite the noise. “You can go inside with Frank, it’s okay,” you assured her.

“Thank you,” she mouthed out with gratitude in her eyes before urging him to stand up and follow her inside.

You, however, weren’t waiting for them because you were rushing to the house yourself. You froze at the sight of your husband sitting by the kitchen table and hiding his face in his shaky hands. In fact, his whole body trembled and there was a broken bottle of mustard in the middle of the floor. He had to drop it when the fireworks show started.

Your heart broke at the sight. Your Buck was the strongest and the bravest man you knew. You would always go to him when you needed comfort or help because he was so capable of making everything – everything – better. He was good at fixing things in the physical sense but he was also always comforting you with his kindness and calm nature. He would never panic about anything and you had always admired him for that.

In moments like this, you felt helpless because you couldn’t take his pain away. And if you could, you would. He had already suffered so much that from now on, you’d rather suffer for him. But you were also angry – angry at the war for taking place and breaking him so much.

“Darling…” You started slowly and crouched down in front of him, carefully, trying not to startle him. He didn’t seem to acknowledge your presence, though. “Darling…” You repeated and put your hands on his trembling thighs.

He flinched and you shushed him while tears streamed down your cheeks. 

“Shh, shh, baby, it’s me, it’s okay, you’re home,” you tried to soothe him. “You’re with me now, you’re safe,” you assured but it was not working.

You took a deep breath in and moved up now, to stand above him. You put your hands on Buck’s ears, trying to shield him away from the noise coming from the outside. And then, gently, you pulled his face closer to you and pressed it to your tummy. You leaned in to kiss the top of his head and whisper sweet nothings that were supposed to calm him down and after a while it seemed to be working. You could feel his muscles relaxing and eventually he stopped hiding his face in his hands and wrapped his arms around your waist instead, clinging to you like a little boy.

When the fireworks show stopped and it was quiet again, you moved your hands away from Buck’s ears and began to rub his back soothingly instead.

“It’s alright now, baby, you’re home with me. I won’t let anything bad happen to you,” you promised in a whisper, sniffing back your own tears.

Buck looked up at you with teary eyes and you cupped his face to wipe his tears off of his cheeks with your thumbs. You let your fingers trace his scars and your lower lip trembled. Not that you minded those scars – not at all – but they were yet another reminder of what horrors he had been through. And he was just a man – as weak and scared as everyone else; only forced to be brave.

You understood now why he was scared of having a son with you one day. He was scared of another war coming sooner or later and he was scared of his own child going through what he had gone through.

You feared that, too. And you didn’t even fully know what had happened in Europe. Only the men who had been there knew. Women – especially those who had stayed back home – they would never understand.

“Are you back with me now, my love?” You asked, gently. Buck nodded after a while of hesitation.

“Sorry ‘bout the mustard,” he mumbled out and you chuckled as you shook your head.

“It doesn’t matter, darling,” you assured him.

But you were grateful that Buck’s panic attacks were like that. Perhaps it was wrong to be grateful for such things but you had heard enough stories of triggered men who would do much worse things while having panic attacks.

“I’m sorry…” He breathed out as fresh tears pricked his eyes.

“Don’t,” you interrupted him as you crouched down again and held his hands now to squeeze them tight. “Don’t, Gale, please, don’t ever apologise for that,” you pleaded and he looked down.

“I didn’t expect them to be so loud and so… Close. I… I suddenly wasn’t in our kitchen anymore but back in the air, up in the fort and the Germans were shooting at us and I was trying to focus on flying but deep down I was just… I was just praying to get back home to you and all I could see was your face when they tell you I’m dead and…” He started and you pursed your lips to stop your own tears from falling.

“I know, baby, I know. But it’s over now, yes? You’re back home with me, safe and sound,” you reminded him and leaned in to place a kiss upon one of his hands.

You heard footsteps behind you. It was Helen peeking inside shyly. You turned around to shake your head at her and she gave you an understanding look before walking out without a word.

“Let’s clean up now, yes?” You let go of Buck’s hands and fixed your hair before standing up clumsily.

You occupied yourself with cleaning the mess from the broken mustard bottle and Buck washed his face with cold water in the kitchen sink. You handed him some of the paper towels you were using so he could dry his face.

“You’ve missed the fireworks show because of me,” he pointed out.

“God damn those fireworks shows, Buck!” You exclaimed. “God damn them. I don’t want to see any ever again. I’m sorry that I didn't think that it would… That it would scare you like that,” you apologised.

“Well, it takes time to come to terms with the fact that your husband is a coward now,” Buck sighed and so did you, while throwing the used paper towels into the trash bin aggressively.

“My husband is not a coward and has never been. However, that self-pity attitude is new to me,” you told him and he turned his head around to look at you. “My husband is the bravest man I know,” you added. “He is my hero. And I don’t allow you to talk about him this way, you hear me? I have defended him from all the women in town telling me that men in the captive camps were no real heroes and I will defend him from you, too, when you’re so mean to him, Buck, I mean it.”

“Stop, or I’ll cry again,” he shook his head and sniffled.

There was a hint of a smile on his face and it made you grin as well before you approached him and wrapped your arms around him to hug him tight.

“I love my wife, too. The most in the whole wide world,” he assured you and hugged you back while pressing his lips to the top of your head but you could still understand his words. “I wasn’t brave, really, I wasn’t. I just did everything it took to come back to you.”

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

Podcast Elections: ACAB Edition

The introduction to this poll has been moved to the Voter's Guide (under the cut) due to length. Please ensure you are registered to vote in your local elections, should you be eligible.

*There is no lesser evil when the institution itself exists to exploit, oppress, and enact violence. I refuse to vote in this race, but I will vote in other races on the ballot.

Elections are coming up in the USA. I'm used to voting about twice a year, and understand how few measures and candidates are truly exciting to vote for. There's a lot of maintenance (renewing bonds and levies, voting against limitations to abortions, etc). Most candidates have significant flaws and even the ones who seem promising will probably fail to meet their campaign promises. It's boring but important. To me it seems that the dramatic races and measures are usually more threatening (so we vote against it) then promising (so we vote for it). City Council, County Chair, School Board, Water District, Library Board, and so on are all highly important, but candidates' platforms can be opaque, or there can genuinely be no good options. But if we want clean water, good education, freedom to read, an attempt at affordable housing, etc., then we need to care about these positions.

But then there's the elections that never feel good. The elections for who gets to lead the people we allow to murder with little consequence. The people in charge of institutions that I would rather be destroyed. Obviously there's the big one, but frankly due to the electoral college, the state I live in, and partisan races usually coming down to Party over Policy, voting in that election feels incredibly ineffective (but I do it anyways).

Another institution I don't like voting for is the County Sheriff, but at least my vote feels more influential here. As this is a nonpartisan position, this will be a runoff election. That means if no candidate gets greater than 50% of the vote we will hold another race between the top two candidates the following week.

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 100)

The sound of light snoring filled a 16 year old boys bedroom in the wee hours of the dusk, the wall adorned with guitars on racks and band posters displaying men with long hair.

His blankets were a charcoal black, his sheets a dark grey. On his desk lie a machine glowing with RGB, and whirring softly, and his seating options consisted of haphazardly arranged bean bags.

“Nico! ¡Levántate! ¡tienes tu turno en la puerta del búnker hoy!” Came harshly from the living room, and a drone with a mop of black hair grumbled, emerging from his nest of blankets like a member of the undead.

His purple eyeslights flickered on just to display his groggniess- another night of fitful sleep.

“Comin abuela!” He calls out in return, throwing the blankets off him and stumbling into the bathroom where he brushed his shoulder length hair and cleaned his teeth.

The only thing he was wearing was a pair of long black shorts, his hair was a mess, and when he looked at himself in the mirror he looked like a disheveled shelter dog.

“Ugh. Fuck me…”

He sighed as he gathered up clothes to wear for his shift guarding the front door, with everything going on, older students had the choice to volunteer to help with different projects instead.

And he'd take security work over a stuffy classroom any day.

He slid on a grey shirt and green cargo pants before fumbling around in his room to find his brown aviator jacket and matching goggles, then dug in his nightstand to find his service weapon- a 9mm pistol that would do nothing against a threat that wasn't a normal drone.

He strapped it to his hip and opened the the door to the living room where his grandmother was watching some kind of reality TV show, her legs covered in a knitted blanket.

“Morning.” He gave a half grin to her slightly yellowed frame, she smiled back, faded blue eyelights blinking at him.

“Buenos días mijo. Casi pensé que no te levantarías” She hummed, gently taking his hand as she couldn't quite see him even in his close proximity.

“Nada…No me iría de casa indefenso.” He replied before sighing. “Por favor, usa tus gafas abuela…”

She shook her head. “Ah, no. Not like it will help anyway.” She switched to english, probably not even realizing she'd switched at all. “You be safe mijo! Don't be a idiota!”

He chuckled softly. “Done enough of being stupid… no worries. See you when I get back.”

He shut the door behind him, stopping to stand just in front of his door to watch several people walk by- a deadpan expression seeping onto his face.

“Let's get this over with…”

He traipsed down the hall towards the bunker doors. Getting shoulder checked and ignored all the way through; he was decently tall for a worker drone but that didn't stop people from not caring enough to get out of his way.

It was kind of his luck. Hell, his whole families luck it seemed. He should've been named Murphy, because every single bad thing that could happen; did.

His father was murdered outside the bunker before he was even born, and his mother only took care of him for the first four years of his life before dumping him on her mother and bailing. He couldn't parse her out from the crowd even if she was still around.

So it was just him and his dear Abuela, and it had been for most of his life, which he was fine with, she was a lovely woman and had raised him well. Though recently her opticals had begun to fail…

Just another thing added to the list of mundane and shitty aspects of his life.

Why couldn't his problems be more fantastical? At least then he could be miserable and interesting instead of miserable and bored to fucking death.

He reached the front of the bunker on complete autopilot, settling into his post next to the open door, snow blistering around him while he leaned against the frozen concrete.

Despite how lonely it often got, he did find himself enjoying his time out here, one earbud in his audials while he watched the ship that would take them all away from here be built.

He'd actually begun as a welder, and was pretty good at it too- the only problem being that he was too impatient for it, he would get into a flow and then burn his hands because he wasn't paying attention… so now he was put on simple security.

“Hey Nico. Just get here?” His watch partner and now, one of his close friends patting his shoulder as she walked by with a piping hot cup of gasoline for the both of them.

“Hey Nellie. Yeah. Kinda slept in…” He replied, looking into the girls green eyelights and near silvery hair that hung down to the small of her back.

“Boss should be back from the expedition today with the ‘cords. All that's left after that is preparing that monstrosity to go.” She pointed to the ship, now being coated in heat shielding for its cone and underbelly.

“You think it'll actually work? Some of that shits starting to get in our pipes now… it's gonna get impossible to clean out soon.”

She shrugged. “If it don't, I say let's have one last hurrah until we all munched, if the planets gonna take everything; let's not let it take our joy too…”

“And if it does?”

She laughed. “Then I'll kiss you. How about that?”

He blushed at that, looking away sheepishly. “I think I'd take you up on that.”

The air cracked with supersonic pressure, alerting both drones to a yellow blur quickly decending, preparing to land just in front of them and they both braced themselves, snow getting flung everywhere as something big and mechanical landed with a loud thud.

After everything settled, what remined standing before them was tall, formidable, and had a long tail with a stinger. A Murder Drone…

Carrying a small, feisty, visibly pregnant little worker, and both were smiling like idiots.

“You said slow.”

“That was slow!”

“You broke the sound barrier!”

Nico felt his features soften. Good, they were both back in one piece, and it seems to have went well If their playful bickering was anything to go by.

…

There was one more reason he really enjoyed being out here, instead of in there.

“Mama! Papa!” Little Tera was calling from the arms of a drone with blonde hair and white eyelights, reaching out for her parents as N nearly ran to take her out of the workers arms.

“Oh hello my baby bat! Papi missed you yes he did!” He spun her, making a cascade of happy giggles escape her mouth.

Nico smiled at the sight, feeling his heart swell before a pang of deep regret hit him like a truck.

It wasn't supposed to be this way…

That night with Chloe was supposed to be fun, no consequence. She'd told him she was sixteen too, acted like she'd never done anything before right up until she absolutely blew his mind- but he'd chalked it up to it being his first time.

Then; nothing. Radio silence, he didn't see her in his classes, didn't see her in the halls or any other party he'd went to, like she'd been a ghost.

Until she called him five months later to meet her at the nursery.

He thought the meeting place was odd, but at the time didn't seem to care, he was just excited to see her again, being unable to wipe the night from his memory- he'd wanted something more substantial ever since then…

What he arrived to, was her holding a pillbaby put with one hand- which she dropped unceremoniously into his arms before just walking away without explaining a damn thing.

He didn't need one though. He knew the moment the babies eyes opened and he was staring into his own eyelights, when her mouth opened to let out a coo and she weakly rolled into into him.

He held her close, alone aside from Mrs.Rayn in the nursery, having to sit down because his legs threatened to give out underneath him.

At first… he just admired her, she was mostly inert now having been just transferred and having no life experience other then him in that moment. But she was perfect in every way.

Then he… thought about how he'd have to adjust, he'd have to drop out of school, move out- but… he couldn't move out, abuela couldn't see very well and without him she could hurt herself…

Okay… so he couldn't move out, that's fine. So it was drop out, keep taking care of his grandmother and the new addition, and get a job so he could make sure she'd have toys and extra bottles and all the oil she needed.

But… taking care of the both of them would be a full time job- he couldn't be out all day and expect his grandmother to help raise yet another baby.

He started to tremble when he made that revelation. How absolutely upset his grandmother was going to be at him, how utterly impossible it would be to try and juggle everything this little baby would need at the age of 16.

And he started to cry uncontrollably, hugging her tightly as his heart unraveled out onto the floor. Ugly sobs wracking through his body as he went through the last… and most viable option. To leave her here.

Yet he still stayed for another hour, basking in his daughter's presence, memorizing it to the best of his ability.

He'd given her a name- even knowing it would never be used.

Mariposa, his little butterfly.

And then, he went to the front desk, legs feeling like lead and with shaky breaths, and handed her to Mrs. Rayn.

She didn't even have time to ask a question before he was gone, not being able to bear being there a second longer without breaking down into more tears.

When he got back to his room, he collapsed in a heap of despair. Sitting on the edge of his bed just staring into space, the weight of what he'd done threatening to crush him.

After an hour of that. He called Chloe, she didn't pick up but he didn't exactly need her to. He just needed to fucking scream.

So he did.

He left a thirty minute long expletive filled rant as a message before throwing his phone in fit of absolute rage and then collapsing as tears ran down the inside of his visor again.

He had a daughter, a pillbaby with his code and the circumstances of her birth and his life had made it impossible for him to be there for her in the way he wanted to be.

He knew, realistically, this was the best choice for both of them, he wouldn't have to uproot everything and she would have a much higher quality of life, she'd have two parents who'd love her instead of just him, a 16 year old boy who barely knew how to take care of himself.

The next morning, and the day after that, and the day after that he went to visit her secretly, giving her tickles or admiring her before he went to school. His heart hurting knowing that there was going to be a day soon where she'd be gone.

And then the day came.

And she was gone.

He was brought back to the moment by a happy laugh, Tera pulling her mother's beanie off as she climbed her head, looking overjoyed to be with her parents.

She was so happy now, so energetic, so wild and carefree, he felt cemented in his choice, that it was the right one. But sometimes he was simply just jealous of her new parents; despite the fact they seemed wonderful.

They got to experience her first words, first steps, spoil her rotten. All the things he wanted to do, to be the dad he never got to have.

“Papi! Happy! Mama!” She yelped out a short string of words, beaming happily as the family went inside. Resting on her mother's shoulder- they made eye contact.

She recognized him, not as her dad but… as someone she knew. Her mouth tilted upwards and she gave him a happy wave, kicking her feet.

He gave a small, bittersweet wave in return.

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