#anyway hope yous like this cause it's getting three installments

[simbury]

How I got my Sims 2 game working on my new Windows 11 laptop, step by step.

OKAY. Gadies and Lentlemen.

I have seen plenty of these around, but I wanted to share my process!

So I bought an MSI creator laptop. The specs are as follows:

CPU: 13th gen Intel i7-13700H

RAM: 16 GB DDR5

GPU: NVIDIA GeForce RTX 4050 laptop GPU

Step One: Fresh install. I used the EA App to install the UC version on my new laptop.

Step Two: Download and install RPC launcher. This will automatically apply the 4gb patch. Run as administrator, but not in any kind of compatibility which renders the 4gb patch useless.

Step Three: Download and install Graphics Rule Maker. I used all of the recommended settings, aside from texture memory which I set at 2048 mb for reasons that will become clear later.

Step Four: Memory allocation fix (empty standby list). Explanation here.

Step Five: Setting virtual memory. I used instructions from this post at MTS - My virtual memory paging file is now minimum of 25000 and maximum of 30000. You'll need to adjust to your system's own specs.

Step Six: In game settings. Shadows Off. Neighbours Off. Lighting Medium. RPC Settings. Apply 4GB patch. Automatically Clean Cache. Lot Imposters Optimized. Sim/Object Shadows Classic. I also have lot view ocean reflections ticked.

If your game works like this with no flashing and crashing, awesome. Mine did not. I firstly tried several different texture memory sizes, but they had 0 impact.

I believe the next step is only for NVIDIA cards, but may be wrong.

Step Seven: DXVK. The most recent version from, here. There are plenty of instructions on how to install out there. But make sure you install the 32bit version. I have these two following lines in my DXVK.conf file (and do make sure it is saved as a conf file, NOT a txt or similar).

d3d9.maxAvailableMemory=2048

d3d9.presentInterval=0

The first line corresponds to the texture memory mentioned earlier. DXVK installs won't recognise more than that and having it higher can cause crashes apparently. The second line... No idea what it does but it was mentioned in several guides and reddit posts.

I don't know if the newer versions of DXVK allow fullscreen mode as the older ones did not, but I play in borderless mode anyway which works.

I also delete my thumbnails folder every so often.

I hope this helps someone, this silly old game can be cantankerous but I was determined to get it running again!

[jarondont]

Chapter 1!!!

So I finally finished Ch. 1 of my book Smoke from the Fire- the first installment in The Reign of the Revolution series :DDDDD

Remember that NOTHING is final (but this is what I'm likely going to stick with), and also due to personal reasons this is the only full chapter I'll be sharing. I'll share snippets of certain scenes, certain lines of dialogue I like, or anything else like character-related stuff, but I won't be sharing any more full chapters :(

Word count: 2,056

Anyways, I hope you like it!

Let's begin, shall we?

--------------------

In my life, I’d made a lot of mistakes.

But none quite as bad as this.

All I could do now was close my eyes, clench my fists, and hope that they wouldn’t find me.

Because if they did, I was as good as dead.

---

In case you haven’t seen the overabundance of wanted posters with my name on them, let’s begin with an introduction.

My name is Silas Crow. Guilty until proven innocent; wanted dead or alive.

It’s not that I’ve led a life of crime. Quite the opposite, actually. Up until a few years ago, my parents and I had been living a simple life on the island of Cartris—a territory of Losca, just a little south of the mainland. Popí was a fisherman, although he liked to call himself a sailor. Mimá would sell the fish he caught. She was also well-educated, so she’d reserve some time every day to teach me. When I didn’t have lessons, I’d often go on fishing trips with Popí or help Mimá at the Cartris fish market. Sometimes, Popí would even take us to mainland Losca for a week. We’d sell fish there—at the larger market, so that we’d get more money.

It was a peaceful life. But that was before Endox came around.

Emperor Endox II had been a horrible ruler since about three years ago—shortly after his twenty-eighth birthday, when he killed his father to get the throne for himself, and with him, his mother, since she tried to protect him. Everyone put up with him at first, since we knew how dangerous he was. But then things started getting out of hand.

A few months ago, news spread throughout Losca that Endox’s wife, Meralina, had been brutally murdered by him after they had an argument about matters regarding their son, Prince Faelen. What matters, no one knew. In fact, rumor had it that the man who told this story in the first place was never seen nor heard from again.

Endox only grew more unfair and selfish since then. Taxes had always been high for us peasants, but Endox wasn’t satisfied. A few weeks ago, he raised them impossibly high, and for what? So that he could benefit off of the people’s hard-earned money. He raised them so high that many peasants started dying of starvation.

By then, we’d had more than enough, so we protested. A simple, bloodless protest. But since so many peasants had gathered for the protest, we had Estraham Castle surrounded, and the emperor’s troops panicked.

So they attacked.

The March on Estraham marked the beginning of the Loscan Revolution. Hundreds of lives were lost that day: the emperor’s troops—twenty-seven; the peasants—over three hundred.

My parents included.

It had been one of those weeks where Popí took us to the mainland. But this time, instead of selling fish, we were there for the protest.

If only we had realized beforehand what a mistake that had been.

I could still hear the gunshots; the screams of innocent protestors. Later, I’d find out that only about thirty of them made it out alive. I could still see the horror on my mother’s face as my father was shot square in the chest, blood spewing violently from the wound. I still felt her fingers digging into my arm as she begged me to leave, to save myself.

Then she, too, was shot. The bullet lodged itself in her leg, causing her to cry out in pain and collapse to her knees.

“Mimá!” I screamed, an agonizing mixture of fear and sorrow building up in my chest.

Mimá grasped her calf where she had been shot, but she gathered up her strength to look at me one last time. “Go, Silas, please!” She cried. “Find the Nemesis. Find Hunt. He’ll help you.”

“No!” I yelled, tears streaming down my face. “Come with me, please—I can’t lose you, too.”

“Go,” she whispered, her voice cracking from the pain.

Then she was shot again. As the second bullet struck her in the back, I heard myself screaming, crying, begging for her not to leave me.

Yet she did.

The last words Mimá said to me were, “Vei livé, Silas.”

Live free.

Those words were since etched into my mind.

I vaguely remembered running away, ignoring the pain in my shoulder as a bullet ripped through my flesh, and pushing through the crowd that was rapidly falling around me. I ran, and I didn’t look back.

After what seemed like hours, I found myself in a small alley. I touched my injured shoulder with my other hand, and it came back soaked in blood. Ripping off a strip of cloth from the bottom of my trousers, I wrapped it tight around the wound and knotted it. That took up the last of my energy and willpower. Leaning my head against the stone wall, I slid to the ground and closed my eyes.

Vei livé, Silas. Vei livé…

And it all came flooding back.

That was it. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. Tears streamed down my cheeks as great sobs shook my body. They were gone. My parents were gone, along with far too many others.

And I was alone.

I wasn’t sure how long I sat there, nor did I care. I remembered hearing voices outside the alley and the stomping of boots. The emperor's troops, no doubt searching for anyone who escaped. They never found me, but if they had, I wouldn’t have fought back. What was the point?

Then I remembered what Mimá had told me to do—to find the Nemesis. I wasn’t sure what that was, but one thing was certain: I couldn’t let any of their deaths be in vain.

So I stood and brushed away my tears, hearing my mother’s voice in my head once again.

Vei livé.

“I will, Mimá,” I whispered. “I promise.”

---

Days passed, then weeks, but it felt as if the March on Estraham had happened only yesterday. The streets were plagued with the emperor’s soldiers, or the Dekhrinn, as they had come to be known—Loscan for people of terror.

They accepted this name—in fact, causing terror was their main goal. Whenever they saw the Dekhrinn coming, people hid away in their homes, shut the curtains, and locked their doors. And yet, every day, someone would disappear, usually in the dead of night. But no one dared to fight against them. They were too terrified.

As for me … I lived off of whatever I could find. And I had come to discover just how many alleys Losca’s capital city, Cyvalos, had.

Alleys that were perfect for hiding.

As the stomping of boots drew closer, the only thing I could focus on was the racing of my heart in my ears. The voices became more and more defined until they stopped right outside the alley.

“Have you found anyone?” a deep voice asked.

“No, sir,” a second man said.

“Names.”

“What?”

“Tell me their names,” the first one demanded, irritated.

I heard the crinkling of paper, and I took that opportunity to slightly peek my head out from the shadows. Four Dekhrinn were positioned just outside the alley, their armor shining red and gold. Loscan colors. Two of the men stood off to the side, one twirling his fingers nervously and the other rocking back and forth on his heels. Another Dekhrinn stood with his back to me—the one who had fished the piece of paper out of his pocket. The last man stood in front of him, a badge on his shoulder making it clear that he was the one in charge.

“We were assigned four revolutionaries, sir,” said the man with the paper. “Fenerias Hunt, Annwyl Cadarius, Eraka Orelein, and—” he hesitated. “And Silas Crow.”

So they were looking for me.

“You still haven’t caught Crow?” growled the man in charge. A pause, then he mumbled, “The next time I ask for a report, that Silas boy should have been brought to the emperor, alive or dead. Is that clear?”

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Good.” With that, I heard his boots stomp away.

The other three Dekhrinn let out a long exhale as soon as he was out of earshot. For a few seconds, all was silent. Then the man with the list of names yelled, “Well? Don’t just stand around! Find them!” and he, too, stomped away.

The two other Dekhrinn shuffled closer to the alleyway entrance. I ducked into the shadows, my heart pounding.

“How do they expect us to find them?” one wondered aloud. “Losca is huge. They could be anywhere.” Silence, then he prompted, “Henrik?”

“What?” The other man—Henrik—asked.

“Do you ever wondered what would happen if we … you know, ran away?”

Henrik was silent for a beat. “Don’t say that. You never know who’s listening.”

“Yes, but …” There was a shuffling of feet. “Endox—”

“The emperor, Keflas,” Henrik corrected. “Show some respect if you want your head to stay attached to your neck.”

“If the emperor hears what I have to say about him, he’d behead me anyway,” the man named Keflas mumbled. “I think … well, don’t you think he’s a bit unfair?”

I had half a mind to run up to his face and yell, you think? but I forced myself to take a steadying breath.

Keflas continued, “I’m scared, Henrik. Just the other day, Sigourney’s husband disappeared.”

Henrik grunted, finally opening up to conversation although he still sounded a bit uncomfortable. “I heard about that,” he said. “Rumor has it that he was turned in by his own brother. They say you could hear his screams from the other side of the castle.”

Keflas shuddered. “Whatever he said, he probably didn’t deserve and end like that.”

“Exactly, which is why you should shut up before someone hears you!” retorted Henrik.

Keflas mumbled an apology. “Maybe we should start searching.”

Henrik muttered his agreement, and I heard their feet stomp away.

I slowly peeked my head out again, checking to make sure they were gone. Once I was sure that the alley was empty, I tiptoed out of my hiding place. This was my chance.

I ran as fast as I dared out of the alley—or tried to. Halfway out, I tripped on a root and fell on my face with a thud.

“Did you hear that?” came Henrik’s voice from the other side of the alley. 

“Dakhas,” I cursed quietly. How could I be so stupid?

“Someone’s in there,” said Keflas.

I cursed again, then stood and quickly brushed myself off. Maybe I could still make it out without them finding me.

“There he is!” Henrik yelled.

I glanced behind me. Henrik and the other Dekhrinn from earlier—the one with the list of names—were running towards me while Keflas called for more soldiers.

That settles it, I thought. Time to go.

I sprinted out the alley.

Blood rushing in my ears and the Dekhrinn only a few paces behind me, I turned a corner just as a gunshot rang out. A bullet whizzed past me, just missing my ear.

I paused only for a second. Almost there, I thought to myself.

I kept running, pushing past confused passersby whose eyes widened when they saw who were behind me. I just had to get to the docks.

To the Nemesis.

As it came into view, I paused for a second to catch my breath, resting my hands on my knees. After weeks of searching, I had finally found what Mimá had told me to find. The Nemesis was what seemed like a large trading vessel. Why she asked me to find it, I didn’t know. All I knew was that I had to get aboard, or else I was dead meat.

“Hey!”

Oh no.

I glanced behind me and saw not two, but eight Dekhrinn running after me, pistols drawn. I eyed the docks again, but it was too far of a run. They’d shoot me down before I even got close.

To my left was a bustling fish market that seemed to go on for miles. If I mixed in with that crowd, they’d never find me.

I whispered a request for the Nemesis to stay at the docks for a little longer, then raced toward the fish market with eight Dekhrinn hot on my heels.

--------------------

So, what'd you think?

Also, keep in mind the names of the three revolutionaries (excluding Silas) they're searching for. These characters are important later 😉

(So is the prince but he comes in in book 3)

[keroradio]

It's the first of the 10 audio dramas!

This one was originally one track, but the file was too big, and the script is quite long, so I picked an unobtrusive place to separate it. I hope you don't mind it being separated like this, and will look forward to part 2 tomorrow (^.^)

K66: Pekopon Invasion CD, first story: Fight! Pekopon Soldier, complete collection, yes sir!

N: Fight! Earth Soldier, the first is the "Super Natsumi Appears" volume

N: The Keron army base built in secret deep beneath the Hinata house, there and now a fearsome plot was hurriedly, and roughly progressing.

K66: Well then, the me that until now has been spaced out and making gunpla every day has deceived you!

The time to seriously return to invading Pekopon has come

TMM: Mr Sergeant is- M: Uncle is burning!

K66: Eh? Ahh! Hot hot hot!

N: That's burning too much

TMM: Setting that aside, Mr Sergeant, if we conquer Pekopon, I want to ban rice and bread! Then we'll make it all cake, and make cola flow from the taps, I think that would be good!

G66: Well I think P.E. in Pekopon's elementary schools should be made 12 hours each day. Of course, during summer it would be alright to be late or cause trouble, at long you get strong.

966: Ku ku ku, if it were me, I'd teach them evil science and eventually build an army of evil cyborgs.

D66: I, yes, would cultivate bountiful hearts-

K66: Hey, uh! I would, um! I'd add gunpla to the curriculum to teach children the joy of making them! (1)

D66: I think empathy should-

K66: Let's do it!

D66: Uh-

Kerokerokerokero

TMM: Tamatamatamatama

G66: Girogirogirogiro

966: Kurukurukurukuru

D66: Well, alright, good sir. Dorodo-

M: Surveillance system anomaly! It's an intruder! They've made it past security systems one, two, and three! You could say, deep infiltration?

K66: No way! Seriously!?

TMM: Is it an enemy alien?

G66: Geh, I'll face it!

K66: Giroro!

G66: You guys, hurry and get out of here!

If it comes, I'll- argh!

TMM: Uwaa! Mister Corporal was taken out before he could do anything!

(Sounds of Giroro being brutalised)

K66: Just what kind of thing is-

723: I see through your ambitions!

K66: Uwo~

723: Today I put a damper on the ambitions of heinous aliens! The mysterious Earth soldier, and that name is: Super Natsumi, appears!

K66: What?

TMM: Su

G66: Per Natsumi, is it?

N: The form standing before the heinous alien Keronians is that of the mysterious soldier, Super Natsumi. What is his-that's is, her true identity? If you want to hear, wait for the next part. ------

N: We're back

K66: So fast!

N: Either way, second is "Super Natsumi's Defeat" volume

723: Today I put a damper on the ambitions of heinous aliens! The mysterious Earth soldier, and that name is: Super Natsumi, appears!

N: The form the Keronians saw before them was that of the mysterious Earth soldier, Super Natsumi! Now, with her super powers she'll do what she will to evil doers!

K66: Well, that's probably Natsumi-dono, right?

723: Naive. Aren't you naive? Written as Seven, two, three, and read as Natsumi, no relation to the girl you know

TMM: It really suits you, Natchi

723: Wh-what? Anyway, I won't let you guys just do what you want!

K66: You're so arrogant, Super Natsumi!

723 (mentally): He he, it's just as I thought. As long as I have this shining faster than light power suit I got from Kururu for 3 installments of my allowance....

723: Here I go! Na. Tsu. Mi! Super Natsumi, seven hundred and twenty three special powered, inescapable "rock" punch! (2)

TMM: She's using rock instead of paper!?

966: That one's really earnest, written as earnest, read as serious (3)

723: Tera~

What? No way! I can't move!

K66: Gero, gero, gero, gero.

723: Could it be?

966: Ku ku ku. After all, I'm the top Keronian. The shining faster than light power suit, it was designed so I could freely control it from the outside with one flick of this switch.

Action, cue~!

723: I don't-....My body's somehow-....Stop it!

K66: Gero gero gero gero! How delightful!

723: Hey!...(struggling)...It's embarrassing...this is!

G66: Waugh!

K66: In addition, this month's song, come on!

(Pekopon Invasion Ondo starts playing)

723: Even though I don't want to dance, I'm dancing~!

K66: Gero gero gero gero! It's too bad you can't see this because it's a CD, her pose is ridiculous!

723: Uwo!....Iya!....I'm glad...ugh...it's a CD!

K66: Then, next we'll make you strike the most embarrassing pose in space!

966: Roger!

723: Wait- Stop it~!

G66: Wait, Keroro, that pose is....ah....

TMM: Mr Corporal is bright red, this one too

G66: It's just that pose~!

FYK: Pardon me! I came to- from a survey company!

D66: A marketing survey, good sir?

K66: Or so they say, but there's no mistaking they're really delivering the limited number HG company with missles I ordered from net tsu, yes sir!

FYK: Ah, excuse me, don't mind my intrusion!

K66: Yes?

FYK: On that note. Wait a minute~!

Aiding Super Natsumi, the peace of earth will be saved by this second great Earth soldier, Miracle Fuyuking!

K66: What!?

TMM: Miracle Fuyu

G66: King? You say

N: Coming to Super Natsumi's aid, a second great Earth soldier, it's Miracle Fuyuking! Don't give up, Fuyuking! The future of Earth depends on you!

D66: Saying that, isn't this Fuyuki-dono?

N: To be continued!

---------------

1-Like in the intro drama, Keroro uses a younger sounding form of "I" than usual here

2-The words used aren't the normal ones for stone (ishi) and paper (gami), but specifically for rock paper scissors

3-This is based on kanji & furigana, the latter being when kana are put next to a kanji to show how it's pronounced. We usually think of it being used in publications for children or teenagers to help make a word easier to read or look up, but it's also used in cases where a word borrowed from another language is used to tie the unfamiliar pronunciation to the meaning, or a word is said differently from normal, or to add further meaning.

The last is what Kururu is referring to, where you write the kanji for one word that applies, but the furigana for a more accurate word, or one with your additional meaning. This one was a bit tricky since both words can mean serious, but different degrees, so I went with a different translation.

[ohlookanothercartoontofallinto]

Renegade Winds Part 1

Hi this is the first installment of my Vigilante Wind au, if you like to read it on Ao3 (Here). Also this must be stated! When imagining Linebeck please be imagining @smilesrobotlover literally kept looking back at her art while writing this. 

Anyways! Enjoy! 

The thunder cracked as the heavy winds caused the raindrops to pierce the skin like needles, as sirens busted his eardrums, yet he still ran. Breathing deep, gargled breaths while carrying the weight of three children. Two were attached to his neck for dear life, refusing to let go. The last cradled in his arms, gasping for air. 

His precious boy, his north star. How could he ever let that happen to him for so long? The man was an adult. He should have protected them better. He promised he would protect them now. 

A glimmer of hope shined in the distance. Headlights, they had made it. 

"Linebeck!" Jolene called, rushing to his side, trying to fight the rain. Followed by a group of four. 

"Makar!" A robust and sturdy man with green hair and a mustache rushed over with two shorter Kokiri by his side. 

"Papa! Fado! Saria!" The little forest boy cried, reaching for them. 

"Medli!" A Rito man took the young bird girl in his arms. 

"Uncle Quill!" She hugged him tightly. 

"Oh, may the goddesses bless you, Linebeck, for what you have done for us today!" Deku whispered, eyes filled with tears as he held his young son. 

"Don't thank me yet, lad, not until you've gotten away safely." Linebeck declared, making his way to a van. The other adults nodded, following his example, heading to different vehicles. 

"Wait!" Medli became distressed. "We're not staying together!" She frantically looked towards Makar and Wind. 

"Oh, little one…. it's safer for all of us if we part–" Quill tried to calm his niece down. 

"WILL I EVER GET TO SEE THEM AGAIN!" The rito girl attempted to escape from her loved one's grasp. 

"Will we…." Tears began to stream down Makar's face. Joined by the rainwater. 

"We'll figure out a way for you to see each other again, I promise!" Jolene spoke up. "It might be several years, but we'll work something out. However, it will never happen if we keep standing here like sitting ducks." Heading to the driver's side, forcing this show on the road. 

The children looked at one another, faces heartbroken more than one could possibly imagine. The adults hated doing this to them, but it was the safest opinion at the moment. 

Still, in a muggy state, Wind weakly lifted his arm out to his friends, his fellow prisoners, the ones sworn to protect. Linebeck obliged, bringing the boy closer to the other children. With the others joining. 

"I–I'm," Wind gasped for air. 

Medli grasped his hand gently. "Deep breaths, ocean boy…remember. Inhale, 1, 2, 3, Exhale, 4, 5, 6, Inhale, 1, 2, 3, Exhale, 4, 5, 6.” 

Makar placed his hand on top of the older two. Compassion filled his eyes as he watched his protector. Even at a young age, Makar knew Wind was the most damaged out of all three.

"Exhale, 4, 5, 6," The rito girl smiled shyly, now worried about what her friend would do without her. 

"I'm…okay." The Hylian boy said slowly. "I'm," tears began to fill his eyes. "I'm going to miss you…I–I love you both." 

Makar was the first to fall forward and wrap his arms around Wind's neck, followed by Medli. Forcing the parents to adjust their hold on them. 

"We love you, Ocean Boy," Medli whispered. Not wanting to let go. While Makar furiously rubbed his cheek against Winds. With one final squeeze, Medli and Makar slowly let go. 

"Take care of them," Linebeck demanded, taking a step back. 

Both families nodded before rushing to their cars. They all were going in different directions. Hopefully, that will be enough to shake the Yigus off. 

Linebeck quickly made his way to the van's side door. Slamming it open, and as gently as possible, placed Wind down on a stretcher mattress. He and Jolene had planned to have it for Wind. 

The man, not wanting to waste another second, looked over Wind. 

The boy looked awful. He was drenched from head to toe in rainwater and began shivering. This wouldn't do. He did not just bust his boy out of an experimental prison just for him to get sick. Linebeck carefully pulled the simple hospital gown off of Wind. It was the only thing the children were allowed to wear in that forsaken place. Launching the evil piece of cloth into the corner of the van. They burn it later. 

Then he wrapped his child in the warmest blankets before buckling him in. "You remember the plan, right?" He flashed his eyes over to Jolene. 

"Get the kid to safety, get him checked out by a medic, take him to the safe house, leave him with Gonzo, and come and pick you up at the spot." The women nodded, fully understanding. 

"Wait–pick you up?" Wind's head buzzed at the question. In a wrong way. "Y–you're not coming with us?" The young boy reached for Linebeck's arm, gripping it tight. "No–no, please come with us p–please." He couldn't do this without his dad. The air around him started to pick up. He was going to lose control. 

When hands cupped Wind's face, slowly massaging his temple, "shhhhhhh, it's going to be okay. They don't know it was me. If I go back now, I can get lost in the chaos, and they will never find out." 

The boy's body wanted to protest, but he was so exhausted, and Linebeck had figured out how to basically incapacitate his body. All he could do was cry and whimper, "nooooo." He sounded so far away. 

Linebeck smiled at the boy, carefully adjusting him one last time. When a bit of blue caught his eye. "Here," the man whispered, pulling a long navy blue trench coat over the boy. "It's my favorite coat. Take care of it for me until I get back, okay?" 

Wind could only twitch in response. 

"Once we're together again, I'll take you sailing, okay, lad? Just like we talked about, I'll be the captain, and you'll be my first mate. We'll be Sailors together." Linebeck stated, barely holding it together. He leaned forward and kissed the boy on the top of his head. "We'll be together again soon…I promise." With that, he closed the van door. 

Missing the one word that would have changed his mind. 

Wind lifted his fingers up, wanting to reach out for Linebeck. "D–dad…." 

Everything went dark. 

"WIND!" 

"AH!" The sailor jolted awake, sweating. Surrounded by pillows and blankets. 

"Good morning, ocean light! It's 3 p.m., time to fight the day!" The woman leaned against the doorframe. 

It took a second to register what was happening when he realized he flopped back down on his bed. "Joooooolllllleeennnneeee, PLEASE don't startle me awake like that!" 

"Ha, sorry about that sailor, but you know it brings me a bit of joy!" She laughed, waiting for the sailor to throw a pillow or insult back at her. He didn't, "oh…" she walked over to his bed and sat on the edge. The boy's eyes were watery. "Have that dream again…." 

Wind clutched a pillow and nodded. "It's been two years, Joe….what if he's really gone…." 

"Hey," Jolene fell back on top of his legs. "Don't talk like that, kiddo. Linebeck is still alive out there…somewhere. Trust me, he wouldn't die knowing you're out here waiting on him. We just have to keep looking." She smiled confidently. 

Wind stayed sad. 

"Listen, Wind, I promise you if Linebeck is really dead, I'll dive down to the underworld myself and drag him back. Man's not leaving me alone in this world without paying any child support. Come on now!" Jolene winked at the boy, watching as he tried to hold back a laugh, but he failed. "There we go." She lifted herself up. Throwing a shirt at the kid's face. "Now come on then, Gallow's is waiting for you to pick her up from her awful tower, and you need to actually put on clothes. Honestly, I do not understand you. You wear shorts in the winter and a hoodie in the summer with a scarf, but when you're sleeping, you like, 'hmmm yes, shirtless' what is that all about!" Jolene placed her hands on her hips. 

Wind, not even bothering to remove the shirt, answered. "Not everyone can understand my genius! Also, who's on duty tonight anyways?" 

Jolene chuckled, "Crimson Rider, Wild Card, and for once, actually Deity." 

"Oh! Heroes that actually like me! Wonderful!" Wind laughed, pulling the shirt off his face. 

"Yes, but be careful with Rider, you two share the skies, and he's extra protective of the princesses." Jolene smiled, making her way out. 

"Will do." 

[doctorhelena]

how does graphite work as a lubricant

Hey, anon!

So, I have chosen to assume that you are asking me (a Peggy Carter blog) this because I have an engineering degree and enjoy reblogging science posts, and not for any, uh, other reason, but just in case, please do not use graphite to lubricate any human body parts. I can't say that I know what would happen (I'm an engineer, not a biologist - and despite my blog name I'm not actually a doctor!) but there are probably several very good reasons it's not sold for that purpose.

ANYWAY. I am always up for discussing graphite!

Carbon can form all sorts of neat molecules made up solely of carbon atoms - diamonds, nanotubes, buckminsterfullerene (otherwise known as bucky balls - and yes, a lot of physics and engineering terms do sound dirty, although they are usually actually not!), and several others, including graphite.

(One cool fact about carbon is that two of its three naturally occurring forms are diamond, the hardest naturally occurring substance, and graphite, one of the softest known substances! And yes, with enough temperature and pressure applied, graphite will become diamond). 

So in graphite, the carbon atoms are very strongly bonded together in flat sheets, and then a whole bunch of these sheets are "stacked" on top of each other, held together by much weaker bonds. Since the bonds between the sheets are not nearly as strong as the bonds within each individual sheet, the sheets slide over each other quite easily. This makes graphite very slippery, which is why it makes a good lubricant.

(Brief pause for definition: a lubricant is a slippery substance used to reduce friction between moving parts (a) so they move against each other more smoothly, (b) to reduce the amount of heat they produce as they move against each other (which equals energy loss and can also cause its own problems), and (c) to stop the parts from being damaged and/or wearing down as quickly. And yes, the kind of lubricant you use on human body parts also fits that definition!)

One benefit to using graphite (rather than oil) as a lubricant for mechanical parts is that it doesn't leave a sticky residue, so it's a good choice when you might get dust and dirt getting into the works (which, if mixed with oil residue, will gunk things up and eventually make them stop working). So graphite is a good choice as a lubricant in things like locks, hinges, gears, conveyor belts, etc. It also has a high temperature and pressure tolerance, which is one reason it's widely used in the aerospace industry. 

However, although you will often apply graphite lubricant by mixing it with a solvent (that will later evaporate once the graphite is in place), you would not want to use graphite as a lubricant in a situation where it might come in contact with other solvents, oils, water, etc., because they might wash the graphite away.

(Side note: the slippery property of graphite is also what makes it good in pencils - the layers of graphite easily slide off each other and onto the paper as you drag the pencil tip along!)

Anyway, anon, I hope I have answered your graphite question and you have enjoyed today's installment of Science With Doc. 

[kiruuuuu]

Kiru's Advent Calendar, Day 16🏡

It's getting more and more difficult to set aside the time to write these, but I'm hanging on! To everyone who's shown support along the way, be it with reblogs, comments, likes or anything else, thank you so so much 😊 You have no idea how much you're helping 💕

Today is about Smoke and Sledge accomplishing a vital mission, enjoy! (Rating T, pure and utter chaos, ~2.2k words)

.

Smoke eyes the large, ominous building with a vague sense of dread. They’re out in the middle of nowhere, the nearest soul several miles away (so at least they won’t have to worry about causing too much noise). The windows are dark, the façade old and dirty, the path leading up to the house largely overgrown. Next to him, Sledge shifts his weight uneasily, probably experiencing the same foreboding feeling as his colleague. They’ve been on enough missions together to assess these things in sync.

“Alright”, he tries out his voice and doesn’t like how it sounds. “Give me the brief again.”

Sledge nods without taking his eyes off the stately home. “We’re looking for a standard passport. There are three possible locations: the bedside table on the second floor, a large trunk in the basement and a cabinet in the living room. We are to disturb as little as possible – ideally, nobody would be able to tell we’ve been here.”

They both take a deep breath. “… and?”

“And… there might be precautions in place. Of what nature, we’re not sure, but we should keep our eyes peeled.”

“Let’s do it, then.”

After an exchange of nods, Smoke sets foot on the small bit of stairs leading up to the main entrance, and instantly his eardrums explode. Or at least that’s what it feels like, the air is suddenly filled with the loudest shrieking he’s ever had to witness, rendering him incapable of anything other than pressing his palms to his ears and screaming in perfect tune with the noise.

Next to him, Sledge is doing much of the same, mouthing something at him he doesn’t understand, him yelling something back and earning nothing but a confused frown, and together they shuffle around the house on the lookout for something, anything to stop this torture. Eventually, after they’ve already cut two other wires running along the outside walls, they���re once again blessed with silence. Though to be fair, it doesn’t seem like it with how his ears are still ringing.

“Bloody hell”, Sledge pants, looking just as shocked as Smoke feels right now. “Who the fuck has an alarm for their stairs?”

“Well, we both know the answer to that. I just hope we didn’t cut anything important, but I suppose we’ll find out soon enough. After you.”

The Scotsman doesn’t seem to appreciate Smoke’s reluctance to lead, but he courageously climbs the stairs to the front door anyway. So far, so good. From as far away as he can, Smoke hands him the keys with outstretched fingers and considers diving into cover, yet deems it too dramatic. For now. Sledge carefully turns the main key in the lock, slowly puts his hand on the handle and slams the door in his face full force.

Smoke badly suppresses a snort.

“Who the fuck spring loads their fucking front door?!”, Sledge complains in disbelief, rubbing his forehead.

“Someone demented. Let me check if the coast is clear.” Smoke slips past him, entering the main hallway and expecting the worst. Both of them wait several seconds, uneasy, until they decide they’re good. “I don’t even know whether I’m supposed to be on the lookout for anything. You know, like some kind of trigger or pressure plate or shite like that. Maybe he only booby trapped the outside and we’re fine now. What’s the first location?”

“Living room cabinet. Should be over there.”

Smoke starts walking to where his companion pointed, cautiously followed by the very same, and though they keep scanning the floor and walls for anything suspicious-looking, Smoke runs head first into some wire installed at eye level. Before he can scream, they’re once again surrounded by noise – this time, however, there’s something satisfying to it, almost rain-like in its pitter-pattering as innumerable glass spheres are poured onto the ground, surrounding them.

“Marbles”, Sledge summarises succinctly and Smoke almost applauds him for the observation. “That’s fine as long as we don’t move. Don’t try to step on them, we should stay -” He’s silenced by a water balloon hitting the back of his bald head, failing to explode and falling to the floor impotently.

“I don’t understand how anyone can set something like this up”, Smoke remarks right before another bursts by his feet, spattering his legs with a black, viscous liquid. Its stench nearly makes him gag and all of a sudden, they’re filled with panic once more.

“Move, move”, Sledge urges him on, “skate over the floor so you don’t -” And the large Scotsman crashes to the ground before even finishing his sentence, having stepped on marbles that rolled away immediately. With him on them.

Smoke barely dodges the next balloon aimed at him, dragging his feet in an attempt to outwit the marble sea, and secretly thanks Ash for her relentless exercises in evasion. Behind him, he hears Sledge sputter and retch as he’s hit again but it’s every man for himself now, Smoke has almost reached his sanctuary, the door leading to their first potential target, he stretches out his hand, moves to open the door and -

- and smacks himself in the face with it. Hard.

“Fucking bellend”, he curses through the pain, leaking more and more marbles into the new room and gets nailed by a paint-filled balloon to his back. At least, he thinks it’s paint.

… he hopes it’s paint.

It takes Sledge a few more seconds to come crawling in as well, looking like he went diving in a bog and panting hard, gratefully accepting the pack of tissues Smoke hands him. Right as he’s about to open it, he asks: “Did you have this on you?”

“Yeah, I -”

“Ow! Mother -”

“Uh, I meant to say, it got stuck to me when I stumbled in. Sorry.”

“He fucking booby trapped the fucking tissues!” Sledge pours out the thumbtacks hidden in the plastic packaging before inspecting each tissue individually. Once he’s mostly cleaned himself up, they regroup by patting each other on the back and improvising a small pep talk. They both needed it.

“I think that’s the cabinet there.” Smoke points at the object in question, a heavy-looking mahogany thing placed innocently next to a fireplace. “Want me to open it?”

“You have no idea how much I was hoping you’d say that.”

Smoke walks over, his colleague again following at a distance, and once he’s close, the fireplace predictably coughs out a large cloud of soot they both manage to avoid. Apart from breathing a lot of it in, of course. “We’re getting wise to these tricks now”, Smoke half-grins, half-croaks, reaches out and breaks the glass door with his forehead.

As he stands there, alternating between cursing and whimpering, Sledge drily mutters: “We should not open another door in this bloody house.” Heavy boots crunch over to where Smoke is brushing shards of glass off his clothes and they both begin rifling through the contents, making sure to lift everything and check for secret compartments.

“Looks like the only false bottom here is me”, Smoke announces, earning himself an entirely unamused glare from his companion that seems to say you wish. “So, downstairs or upstairs?”

“I’m more scared of this basement than usual. Let’s go up.” Sledge leads the way, both of them still trying to cough out the burnt ashes that are currently lining their lungs. It seems the balloon barrage has ceased and with the marbles populating the living room as well now, there’s enough space for them to tiptoe across the room without falling again. When they reach the foot of the stairs, they pause.

Look at each other.

A second later, Sledge holds out a flat hand just as Smoke offers a fist.

“Fuck”, Smoke grumbles and begins climbing the stairs in slow motion. He tests every single step before putting his weight on it, half expecting them to snap into a smooth surface so he slides all the way back down, and the next thing he knows is that he falls up the stairs – he’s able to catch himself before his poor maltreated face meets old wood, but his foot won’t lift off the stair regardless. He lets out a deep sigh. “Please tell me my boot isn’t superglued to these bloody stairs.”

“I can with a very clean conscience inform you that your boot is indeed not superglued to the stairs.” Sledge sounds sincere enough Smoke gets his hopes up until the added: “They do, however, look like they’re melting into them.”

“Holy mother Mary of god”, Smoke hisses as he unlaces his shoe in record time, slipping his foot out of it as fast as possible, only to realise that the step to which he jumped in order to escape melting himself is about as slippery as the bastard who set this all up. What follows then must probably look hilarious to Sledge who isn’t caught in a dance between life or death, with Smoke flailing all over the place, at one point probably lifting his foot higher than his head, almost falling about a hundred times as he slips and slides with an added soundtrack of similarly wobbly noises and indeed, when a strong hand grips his arm to finally put an end to his performance, it’s shaking with silent laughter. Just like the large man it belongs to.

Smoke really wants to strangle someone now, and he’s not sure it even needs to be anybody specific.

“I have an idea”, he discloses as they halt in front of the bedroom door. “Watch this.” Not fancying getting hit in the face again, he leans against the door with all his weight, pushing as hard as he can, and then presses on the handle, thinking himself a genius.

It’s a good thing Sledge’s reflexes are as trained as they are so the Scotsman manages to grab him before he flings himself full speed into the bed of nails placed strategically behind the door. The door that swings inwards.

“Fucking hell”, Sledge comments and Smoke can only agree.

They isolate the bedside table, the second possible location, with extreme prejudice, identifying a small explosive that would’ve gone off by opening it without care and disarming it while IQ coaches them on the phone, and eventually nod at each other. Sledge is brave enough to pull it open and reach in, only to yank his hand back with a yelp.

“What?”, Smoke wants to know, worried. “What happened?”

Sledge looks like he’s going to cry any second. “Paper cut”, he grits out before whining pitifully. And indeed, there’s already some blood visible on his fingers.

“Come on, that’s not so bad. Let’s just hope that we’ve… found …” Smoke trails off as more and more blood appears, pooling at the edge of Sledge’s hand, his wrist, disappearing into his sleeve.

“If it’s not in here”, Sledge hisses, waving his hand in an attempt to distract from the pain that must be immense, “I’m throwing myself out the window.”

Wordlessly, Smoke pulls the drawer out and upturns it. Nothing but a few loose sheets of paper. “Sorry, mate”, he mutters.

At least Sledge seems to forget his agony for a moment when Smoke slams the door in his own face as they exit the bedroom.

.

~*~

.

With a final-sounding smack, Smoke slaps the open passport onto the hood of Sledge’s car. Both of them stand there in companionable silence, flipping the badly-taken photograph inside the bird with such sincerity it makes him proud, continuing even as he waits for Harry to pick up the phone.

When he does, all Smoke forces out is a quiet: “We got it.”

A brief pause. “Great. I, um, trust there were no complications? He did say you might run into a few of his security features, but -”

“You need the number, right?” No time for chit-chat. Smoke just wants to walks the few miles down to the river so he can wash off the worst of the mix of paint, rancid butter and bird poo covering him head to toe, because Sledge is not driving him home like this. He reads out the passport number while Harry asks no further questions, ready to hang up without notice until something occurs to him. “You never told us: what even happened?”

“Well… Mike got himself arrested in Laos – don’t ask me how, don’t ask me why. I don’t know how he got there without his passport, but they won’t let him go until they have it so he can prove his identity. So in addition, you’ll have to mail it to him, I’ll send you the address in a moment. Thanks for getting it from his holiday home, in any case.”

“Sure”, Smoke says and means fuck off. After he’s hung up, he fills Sledge in and the two of them look at each other.

“How long will priority mail take? Two days with the express option, right?”

Smoke purses his lips. “I guess.” A pause. “But I mean… it’s pretty expensive.”

Sledge nods gravely. “And it’s not really a pressing matter, right?”

“He won’t mind waiting a few more days, I’m sure.”

Another, final nod. “Alright then. Snail mail it is.”

One last bird in the direction of Thatcher’s face and the two of them start walking towards the nearest source of water that isn’t located in a madman’s house.

[motriders]

Discover HP-Corse Exhausts Available Now in the UK

Discover HP-Corse Exhausts Available Now in the UK Hello there, motorbike sweethearts! Assuming you're hoping to crank up the excitement on your ride, you must look at HP-Corse exhausts. These bad boys are causing disturbances in the trekking scene, and trust me when you hear that snarl, you'll figure out why. Situated in Italy, HP-Corse is about execution and style, and presently you can get your hands on their executioner exhausts here in the UK. We should plunge into what makes HP-Corse an unquestionable necessity for any serious rider.

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Built Tough You need gear that can get destroyed, correct? HP-Corse has got you covered with first-rate materials like stainless steel and carbon fiber. These exhausts are made to last through all the elements—rain, mud, you name it. You won’t have to worry about wear and tear; these exhausts are built tough to handle whatever your ride throws at them.

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[lazy-cat-kohaku]

Rant 01

Murder Script: A Slip in a Hundred Schemes; Ch3 - Clock Tower Manor-02

Disclaimer: won’t make sense without context.

So i looked up baroque cyberpunk on google, got what appears to be AI keyword / prompt generated stuff, and to me it just looks like the late Victorian era influences in steampunk were replaced with baroque.

In addition, probably the most beautiful clock I know of, is the Prague Astronomical Clock. [The clock was first installed in 1410, making it the third-oldest astronomical clock in the world and the oldest clock still in operation.]—Wikipedia. And why is it still running? Maintenance. Every clock needs maintenance to keep running.

Next: manor ≠ castle, mostly because a castle is typically a fortified building.

And my most recent pet-peeve: “European-style”. It’s like “Asian-style food” or “American-style”. That’s an entire continent with millennia of history and at least hundreds of cultures. That could literally mean anything! Even “Chinese-style” is terribly vague, but at least that’s still one country. It’s a feeling like discovering a bomb in minesweeper — I explode. Mentally. Metaphorically.

Favorite examples are the three “castles” Château de Chambord, Castel del Monte, and Schloss Neuschwanstein. Extras include: Burg Eltz, Castle Burghausen, Schwerin castle…

Front wing and rear wing… cause north and south was asking too much, huh? But still using east and west wing. Great, really great, cause when you’re running around in the snowstorm murder manor you naturally remember where the front and back of the symmetrical building are, right~?

Also, for looking at a pretty cross-shaped building, look no further than the layout of the Château de Chambord in Chambord, Centre-Val de Loire, France. Fun fact: apparently Leonardo da Vinci had a hand in the creation of this beautiful build.

On that note, English castle, German Schloss, and French château are similar, but not the same, and that gets real confusing real fast. It is also really annoying.

I think that’s it?

Hm.

Well, like many of my posts, written way too late in the night, so late it’s basically already early morning and a bad idea to post, but at this time my self-control isn’t as tight and I feel more comfortable sharing my thoughts.

Before, I would just engage in mental self-interviews or imagine making a video or such to get these thoughts out, never actually sharing them. Just lying in bed and thinking. Because I had no one to share these thoughts with anyway. And repeatedly telling my parents about how much i dislike “European-style” also gets tiring and annoying for them.

So, write it down and hope it’ll get washed out of my brain that way.

Maybe it’ll bother me less afterwards.

Thanks for reading 💛

[possessedartist]

hihi this is probably a lil stupid so feel free to ignore but i saw in one of your posts about playing persona 1 and i was just wondering how you managed to play it? cause I've been wanting to play p1 (n p2) for the longest time now so i was wondering the way you did it? if its like a spefific emulator or something or if you could point me in the right direction anyways this is probably a bit silly but thank you anyways n i hope you have a good day!!

OMGG you’re so good don’t worry!! I really love getting asked about stuff esp emulating wise cause i like helping out so thank you so much, this made my day!!! You actually asked this at a pretty good time, I just got done making a guide on basically just that because I was hooking up some irl friends who aren’t too emulation savvy, which you can look click right here to look at!! It includes the emulator itself (I use ppsspp) all three games, and a install guide I typed up.

I can mention outside of that though, most of the time for looking at emulators, I personally use emulatorzone to download them from, it’s a pretty direct website that gives you a comprehensive directory for what you’re looking for, such as psp emulators. For ROMS/ISOS themselves, it can kinda depend on what you’re looking for but with psp isos in particular, I use this site! It doesn’t give me any issues and you can look around on it if you’re interested in getting any other psp games!! ^^

Lmk if you have any more questions!! My dms are always open even if u just wanna like live react to whatever’s happening in game lol

[defiant-firefly]

October Challenge Day 7

Aight so the prompt here is ‘Scream’ from the Cryptober prompt list by @tricksterdoodles and @diremirebee! It’s not an art thing I literally just used this prompt cause I had the idea and tried to match it to a prompt that wasn’t on the 31st so I could write it sooner.

Anyway, this one is probably more suited to a Whumptober entry honestly as I’ve been dubbing this the ‘I dump Labby in a blender ASMR’ for a while now. It ended up longer than expected so I’m seperating what I had planned for today into two different prompts. The next part of this at least three part idea will probably be written at the earliest possible date so lookout for that.

Today’s prompt though does require some warnings so... in summary, I essentially torture Labrys from P4A. She gets electrocuted a lot, she’s restrained at the time and will black out over it. If this isn’t your thing/this makes you uncomfortable, don’t read this.

Fic under the cut for this who do want to read...

“Alright 031. We’re gonna be doing something a little different today.” The untidy researcher spoke as 031 tilted her head from the maintenance chair. Did that mean she wouldn’t have to fight today? A hope started bubbling within her as she waited for clarification.

“You’re going to be fitted with a new upgrade that should alter your performance in the testing chamber and hopefully increase your effectiveness with self-preservative protocols.” The woman explained as she fiddled with her glasses and shifted her clipboard under her arm. “In order to issue this upgrade to you, we’ll need you to power down completely. Is that understood?”

“Understood.” She answered with a nod, a curious glimmer in her eyes. An upgrade huh? What could it be? Improved balancers or maybe a targeting system? But then they did say self preservative protocols so… hm…

Did this mean she was too reckless?

“Well the preparations are all complete so when you’re ready, you can proceed with the shutdown.” At that, 031 leaned back a bit more and started the shutdown process. Hopefully this wouldn’t take long and she could go tell 024 about her new upgrade.

As the world went dark, she couldn’t help but notice the worried tone in one of the researchers as they questioned how worth it this would be.

When her awakening was next triggered, she opened her eyes to find the researchers all at a slightly larger distance away from her. Did something happen whilst she was out?

“Good to see you’re back with us 031. Anything to report?” At the question, she ran a quick scan, finding no abnormalities. Instead she found that the new software had been integrated into every aspect of her self and had to wonder what exactly it was.

“Nothin’ to report.” She answered with a shake of the head. “No abnormalities.”

“Good, good. Now we can begin the testing aspect for today.” The researcher with the curled hair picked up his clip board and pen, holding the nib against what she could only assume was the first item on his checklist. “Now how should we do this…?” He mused as one of the other researchers glanced over his shoulder.

“Can we not just use the same methods as we did unit 014?” The woman asked with a raised eyebrow and 031 found her head tilting as she tried to figure out what they were planning. Did 014 have this new upgrade too? She briefly wondered if she could find her and ask about it later to see what testing she had to undergo but after some thought, she decided that was likely not a good idea. 024 was the only other person she found that had any semblance of a personality after all.

“I suppose we could… Its natural resistances should nullify any lasting effects and I guess given its much more advanced design…” The untidy researcher rolled his eyes at him.

“Look, it’ll be fine. Let’s just get the data already.” He walked towards 031, removing a rectangular object from a nearby box and stopping midway. “Well? Who wants to do it?” He addressed the rest of the researchers, presenting them with the weird, pronged object. There was silence for a while as they all exchanged looks.

“I’ll do it.” The woman stepped forward and dropped her notes onto the table, taking the object from the man with an uncaring expression.

“You sure?” The man let her take it and stepped aside whilst she tutted.

“Please. It’s not even human.” 031 felt herself frown at that, though she wasn’t entirely sure why.

“Fair enough. Be careful though.” At that warning, the restraints binding her arms and legs to the chair suddenly made themselves apparent to her. It must be a safety thing she supposed. The woman nodded at him, before approaching her. She stopped by her side and adjusted a dial on the device before reaching it out towards her.

“Now, this should feel a little different to anything you’ve felt before.” She explained as 031 watched her curiously. So they’d upgraded her sense of touch? Hm… “We’ll try the lowest possible setting first to see how you are and will go from there. Understood?”

“Understood.” She parroted back with a nod, wondering what this was supposed to feel like to her.

“Good. Then let’s proceed.” Without another moment, the woman held the button on the side down, a strange buzzing sound emanating from it that sounded like a low charge of electricity running through it.

The very moment those prongs were pressed against her arm, 031 jolted, eyes wide as she instinctively shifted away from it. What was that?

It was so quick, she didn’t even know how to describe it. The woman quirked an eyebrow pressing against her arm again. This time, when she jumped and shifted, the prongs were held against her.

031’s eyes were wide as she tried to discern the feeling of electricity pulsing off her arm like this. It felt… it felt bad. As if someone was continuously pushing needles into the area the prongs were and it stung. She kept, shifting, trying to get it off to stop the bad feeling, the woman watching her intently as she did so.

When the object was pulled away, she found the feeling hadn’t entirely left with it. She breathed a small sigh of relief as the sensation began to lessen until it was barely a dull throbbing in the back of her mind. Ruby eyes narrowed on the device that had caused such a feeling and tilted her head as she tried to put words to it all.

“Well? What did that feel like?” The woman asked as she began to adjust the dials again.

“Um… like…” a long hum, before inspiration struck, “It felt like the sound that you hear when metal scrapes on metal, but not as bad.” There was some mumbling between the researchers as they jotted things down on their notepads and clipboards, some examining the computer monitors and relaying that information back to them.

“Do you have a word for that feeling?” She asked and 031 shook her head. “That feeling is known as pain. It’s the physical indicator for something that has caused, or almost caused damage to you, or it lets you know when something is wrong with your body.” 031 hummed as that information processed.

So they gave her the ability to feel pain? What was the point in that? To make her more human? She hoped so.

“Upping the power level to two.” The woman announced as she finished fiddling with the device. What would it feel like this time? Would it feel better than before?

The moment the prongs hit, she got her answer. She startled, trying to move away from the object that was now pressed against her restrained leg. This… this hurt.

The electricity ran through her leg, sending signals every which way that this wasn’t good. It stung, the limb shaking as she tried to get the feeling to stop. Was this what 014 had felt when they’d tested it on her?

When they pulled away again, she felt a little relieved but the stinging didn’t seem to want to go away. It lingered longer than last time, the intensity just that little bit stronger.

“Now, was that better or worse?” The woman asked before returning to that dial, an uneasy feeling settling in her chest at not knowing just how strong this thing could go. How bad was this going to get?

“Worse.” She answered easily, leg still aching from the contact. “Is it supposed to hurt?”

“Of course. This is an important measure to take in order to both promote the development of your personality as well as improve your risk assessment and self-preservation skills.” The explanation didn’t make her feel much better. “Now how did that feel in comparison to the last one?”

“Uh… the same but worse…?” She offered, not really sure how else to say it. The researchers nodded as they scribbled more notes down and the remnants of the last contact faded away.

“I see. Increasing power to level three.” Without giving her time to prepare, the woman pressed the prongs to the back of her wrist. 031 felt herself yelp at the sensation, her arms struggling against the restraints as the pain increased tenfold. Why was this so much worse?

The moments seemed to drag on longer now, the stinging sensation becoming more akin to the sickening sound she’d heard when she burst the neck of one of the others. When the device was removed, she felt her breaths coming a little heavier, the pain hardly dying down at all, even as the researchers talked amongst themselves. She found herself eying the device warily, one question coming to mind that she had to voice.

“What is that…?” Whatever it was, she hated it. Why did something like this even exist? Who would ever think inventing that was a good-

It was at that moment, 031 realised that the same could be said about herself and decided to stop that train of thought. She had to prepare herself for the next contact.

“This is a taser, specifically designed to inflict pain upon the target but not so much that it leaves lasting damage.” The woman explained nonchalantly as the researchers continued to exchange theories in the background. She didn’t particularly care to listen to it this time. It never made much sense to her anyway.

“Increasing power to level four.” The woman spoke again, this time causing her to flinch and brace herself for what was to come, the stinging from the last contact still not having fully dissipated yet.

When the electricity hit, no amount of bracing could have prepared her for it. She jumped and jolted violently as the pain seared through her body, burning through her insides from where the taser pressed against her stomach. It hurt so bad…

It took a while to register she was making noise, vocalising her pain with yelps and yowls as she struggled. Why was this one taking so much longer?!

As the taser left, she felt her breathing suddenly become much easier, though still remaining shaky as the lingering pain continued to scream at her. Her head hung as she focused on trying to calm herself, she didn’t know how much was to come but she had a feeling it wasn’t over yet. Glancing back up, a nervous look at the woman showed she was once again fiddling with the dials. Just how much more was there?

“Upping power to level five.” She spoke, 031 already leaning away from her the best she physically could being restrained as well as she was. Her eyes scrunched shut, body tensing as she dreaded the shock to come.

Her eyes flew open as the worst pain yet, seared through her systems. She screamed at the sensation, her attempts to escape doubling since last time. Her mind went blank, the only thought being to get away from the danger at any cost. The prongs pressed harder into her chest and she felt her heart screech, the crystal shaking at the forces being pushed through her body.

The fans on either side of her head began to whirl in an effort to release some of the tension, to ease the blistering hurt relentlessly pulsing through her. Her eyes found the researcher’s, pleading for her to stop.

She didn’t even blink as she held the taser harder against her.

The moment, she finally pulled away, 031 slumped in her chair. The fans never stopped spinning as she tried to catch her breath and dull the pain any way she could. Her mind settled on trying to distract herself, trying to hold onto the image of 024 and Snowy playing fetch with each other outside, or trying to figure out what she’d meant when she said they were loved.

It was no use. She couldn’t seem to focus on anything, especially as she distantly heard the researchers fiddling with the dials again.

She hoped, no, prayed there wasn’t another level. Please let that have been it. She didn’t think she could take any more of it.

Slowly, her eyes raised to find the woman who’d been doing this to her. An incredible fear began to rise as she started registering what they were saying over the sound of whirring from her cooling fans.

“I believe now would be a good time to test her limits, don’t you?” The woman spoke to the others as if she were talking about the weather.

“Hm… Wouldn’t it be better to wait till tomorrow? The build up here might affect the results.” The untidy researcher offered thoughtfully as he eyed her with a hum.

“Maybe, but doing so today might give us insight into any faults once we get to the higher intensity levels.” The man with the curled hair tweaked his glasses and she decided she didn’t like him either.

“I believe it’s worth seeing just how far we can push her so that we know where the boundaries between too weak and too strong are.” The woman crossed her arms. “Besides, she won’t be fighting anything today. There’s no risk of it affecting her performance until the effects of the sensors wear off.” 031 felt her hands start clenching and unclenching in succession at her words. Was that a nervous quirk…? Come to think of it, was vocalising distress like she’d just done a normal human reaction?

“Hmm… I suppose you have a point. It would be more beneficial to know the limit sooner rather than later…” The untidy researcher hummed to her horror. They weren’t serious… were they?

“Then it’s decided.” The woman turned back to her and she immediately shrank into her chair. She turned the dials on her taser, hopefully for the last time today before her eyes found 031’s. Any hope of appealing to her better nature fled at the sheer lack of compassion in that steady green gaze.

“Increasing to maximum power levels.” Ruby eyes opened impossibly wide before she scrambled to at least try and prepare herself for the blast of electricity to come.

Nothing could have prepared her for this. Not a single level before this had held a candle to the sheer agony that coursed through her system like a forest on fire. She screamed, loud enough for her throat to hurt, the sound echoing back at her and ringing through her ears as the fan blades spun even faster.

She thrashed in her place, fighting against the restraints and begging them to open so it would stop. Her mind spun as her screaming turned to screeching as the pain only intensified as time went on. Why wouldn’t it stop?

Not a single other thought flew through her head. Her instincts pleading with her to try and find a way out of this, her heart trembling within its cage at the sheer torture of it all.

She wanted out. She’d never wanted out more in her life as she continued to twist and turn, attempting to force the restraints off her and let her go. As the prongs were pressed even harder against her side, something in her cut out.

The world suddenly started spinning, black spots beginning to cloud her vision and the whirring of her fans growing more and more distant. The pain never stopped until the darkness swallowed her whole.

~~~~~~

Her hearing returned to her first. Her body was numb, eyes sealed shut and mouth unable to move as sounds began reaching her sensors again.

“Is it coming around?” The distant question asked by a familiar voice didn’t seem directed at her.

“I hope so. How long’s it been now?” A man this time spoke up impatiently.

“It’s been less than a day, this could have easily been worse.” Another man answered. Less than a day…?

She managed a small noise as she tried to will herself awake. As her vision returned she found herself back in her maintenance chair, the familiar researchers standing around her, observing her as usual.

“Hey. You back with us?” The untidy researcher asked rather harshly. It took her a moment to remember how to answer, a moment that seemed to intrigue all of them.

“Yeah.” Her voice had come out like a quiet whisper, her gaze wandering over her restraints to check if they were still there. The knowledge they were made her body tense and her nerves become obvious.

“Hm, it seems to have associated the restraints with the pain inflicted on it from before.” The man with the curled hair pushed his glasses up his nose, a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. “To think it’d be so quick to make connections like that. Especially given how it’s been restrained before with no negative experiences attached.”

“I’m more amazed it managed to pass out on us for as long as it did.” The untidy man huffed a bit as he approached. “Was there a fault that could have caused that? Any abnormalities at all?” He asked as he looked over his notes again.

“A-all systems green. No abnormalities.” She responded, a slight stutter in her words that seemed to interest her spectators even more.

“Alright then 031. We’ll just run a few more tolerance tests and you can go enjoy your free time.” The man with the curled hair stepped forward, picking up the taser as he passed and as the fear began to rise, she couldn’t help but wonder whether she still preferred this to the testing chamber…

[qyllenhaal]

American Pie

Lee Bodecker x Reader

Word Count: 4.8k

Summary: The Summer heat gets to everyone, including Sheriff Lee Bodecker who is looking to stir up with his favorite girl.

Warnings: 18+ only!!! DubCon (!!!), Dark themes, age gap (reader is early 20s), infidelity, alcohol abuse, exhibitionism, unprotected sex, spanking.

A/N: I didn’t expect to finish this in one night, but I did! I may have missed a few things to include in the warnings but I believe I got all the major ones. Enjoy!

Hot weather makes people feel more rowdy, like they can do anything just because the temperature is rising and the sun is out for longer. When the number of troublemakers at the bar goes up, so does the number of visits from the police.

Someone was always anonymously calling the police because someone at Tecumseh Lounge was stirring up some shit. They rarely came and when they did they did nothing. The deputy they dispatched would just write down a few things in a notepad and leave. No one ever truly got in trouble and that's because the Sheriff is rumored to be "in'' with the owner.

The rumors are true but the nice ladies and gentlemen from the nicer parts of the county will never see it for themselves. Tecumseh is rough, and nasty. There were more vices here than just alcohol, and most of it was done under the table.

Y/n was crazy to take this job as a bartender at Tecumseh. She didn't know that a hidden prospective for the job was fucking the patrons. One of the other girls working here did it, and so did Sandy despite her brother being the sheriff. Y/n was not interested in the advances pressed on her by the men. They were either married or been fucking "ladies of the night" for years and probably have something. No one who frequented a place like Tecumseh wasn't someone Y/n wanted to go home with. Yet she let Sandy's brother talk to her in any kind of way.

For someone who was the sheriff, Lee Bodecker was here a lot and it wasn't because the drinks were good. Sometimes his sister served him while he interrogated her about her husband Carl. Y/n had seen Carl a few times and she found him to be sleazy. Poor Sandy was stuck working behind the bar while Carl flirted with a younger girl just a few feet away from her. But Sandy would also take some patrons out to the back and get fucked when her shift ended. It seems like an even deal, but the difference is Carl looks happy doing it and Sandy always comes back looking a mess, and not in a good way.

Y/n has been applying for a waitressing job closer to her house. She wants out of this place yet whenever she says Tecumseh is her current place of work, her application gets thrown out. Her aunt got her the job and she wished to god that woman never did. She should've gone and worked at someone's farm doing hard labor instead of accepting the offer to work. She was talked to like she was a whore and there was nothing to do about it because her boss did the same thing.

Friday night shifts are the hardest for her. The men drink harder because they don't work weekends. The influence of alcohol made them relentless when talking to Y/n. They made what they believed were compliments about her body and proclaimed how they wanted to fuck her. She just had to press a smile because the more they found her fuckable the more they tipped her. The low-cut top she wore was not coincidental. While she didn't fuck patrons for 20 dollars, she did put out for their attention.

Not even 30 minutes before her shift and a fight breaks out. She has to call the police because the fight between two men turned into a fight of three, four, and then five. No one looked interested in breaking up the fight, just watching with glib smiles and jovial laughs. This was the kind of entertainment they came for, but it was a pain to deal with as a barmaid.

Police sirens and the lights made some patrons, including two of the people involved in the fight, went running out through another exit. Their fears were pointless since it was rare for anyone to get arrested here.

"Alright break it up," Deputy Brooks' voice boomed.

Whenever an officer was called to come down to Tecumseh Lounge, it was only three policemen who showed up: Deputy Brooks, Deputy McConnell, and the sheriff. They must've worked out some kind of deal with her boss because they come in, don't do shit about the reason they were called for, and they never failed to ask for a drink before leaving. Tonight is no different; they just break up the fight and tell the men to leave but they never force perpetrators to leave.

The fight dissipated a few minutes after the deputies showed up and the patrons grumbled because the fun was over. The two deputies looked around the place to give off the appearance of holding authority then they made their way over to the bar.

"One of your coldest beers," Deputy Brooks didn't greet Y/n nor was he polite. He just demanded what he wanted.

"No free drinks." She tries to keep her tone of voice strong. She is not afraid of these two men who only feel powerful because they have a badge on them. Deputy McConnell was only a few years older than her and she remembers when he was a scrawny kid who got picked on even as a senior in high school.

"We just broke up a fight at your fine establishment. The least you can do is give us a beer," Brooks rebuttal.

There was no arguing so Y/n sighed and went to grab two beers for the men so they could just get out of her sight.

"I need two beers. Not just one," McConnell interjected. Y/n didn't like how they drank on the job, especially since they were going to be driving so late at night.

But Y/n obliges just to get them out of her face. She hates the smug look on Deputy Brooks face as he grabs his beer and walks out with the other deputy behind him.

The rest of the night is Jenny's problem because Y/n was clocking out immediately. She smelled like cigarettes and just wanted to wash the layer of sweat off of her body. All the money her boss accrues from shady dealings, he was too cheap to install an air conditioner. People get angry and agitated when it's so hot out. Even at night the air feels sticky and falls just to the low 80s.

She headed out the back to avoid the incoming patrons. She is fair game to some people now that she is single.

Out back she can hear three unmistakable voices. Deputy Brooks and McConnell were standing by their car that was parked right next to the nice, clean sheriff's car. Y/n is not in the mood to deal with the two dickheads and their boss sheriff dickhead, but she knows they are going to say something to her as she walks back.

"Well if it isn't my pretty, pretty Cherry."

Lee Bodecker's voice punctuated the night air, making even the humid atmosphere feel cold.

Y/n stops in her tracks, knowing that she cannot avoid this without causing trouble for herself.

"Don't call me that."

"You sure like the name last week when I had my head between those thighs. 'Lee...oh Lee!" He imitated her voice which made his deputies laugh. Lee has a beer in his hand, reminding Y/n that McConnell asked for two back at the bar. She should've known it was for Lee.

She was embarrassed by him talking about their time together in front of his subordinates. Lee is married and Y/n is turned off by men with gold bands on their ring finger who try to take her home after her shift ends. However they have fucked on multiple occasions, making him the only patron she has given into. He was mean, but authoritative. Y/n couldn't help herself and she sometimes let the sheriff rough her up in the back of his car.

"I'm only messing with you sweetheart. You don't gotta stand there lookin like you saw a ghost."

Y/n feels humiliated but Lee doesn't seem to care. Lee gets off on seeing her squirm, on seeing her be degraded. She's not a whore like the other woman who works here and his sister, but he fucks her like she is. He has something many of the men inside the dingy joint wanted. Y/n isn't easy, which rare for a female Tecumseh worker.

"I'm just wonderin if you seen my Sandy," he made an attempt to change the subject.

"She's your sister Lee."

The truth is Y/n hasn't seen Sandy in a week. She said something about her and Carl taking a trip but she didn't say for how long. Y/n is not too fond of Sandy to pry into her life. She feels bad for her though. She always comes into work with dingy hair and not to mention the amount of weight she has lost which makes her face look gaunt.

"You better address me as ‘sheriff’ girl. You have no manners. You weren't even going to say hello to the men who keep you safe."

Lee did nothing to make her feel safe. He made Y/n feel on edge when he was around but downright euphoric when she was in the throes of passing in the back of his car. He was just using her to get his rocks off and he only went after her because he wanted someone "fresh" for him. He doesn't respect her or care for her.

"Shouldn't you three be patrolling? Looking for crime?"

"Don't catch an attitude, Y/n. It's none of your business what we do. Besides, all the crime is in that building you just came out of."

"You guys never do shit. All you do sheriff is come and collect money from Leroy-"

"Watch your fucking mouth."

Y/n is not sure why she's still here trying to bump heads with him. She will never win, especially when he is the authority around here. No one challenged Lee because they were scared to death of him. He's a shady sheriff but he's feared.

"I'm leaving," Y/n sighed. She tried to walk away but Lee stood up from leaning on his car and grabbed her arm

"Uh-uh," he shook his head at her as the grip on her arm tightened. She looked up at him with fear in her arms and he felt his cock getting hard "You don't get to leave until I tell you too. I think you owe me for last week anyway, cherry."

"Please...just let me go," she tried to plead. She tried to plea to the man who she's been fucking, hoping that his attachment to her would make him be kinder to her.

"You need your ass to be put in place. I thought I did that a few weeks ago when I spanked your ass until you cried, but you're still as defiant as ever. You'll never fucking learn."

Lee dragged her back to his car and bent her over the hood. He placed her arms behind her back and cuffed her. He wasn't going to arrest her but making her believe he was sure was fun to him.

She can see both of the deputies watching her. Her face was planted against the top of his car as he held her down. Lee pulls her dress over her ass and she feels so exposed.

"Those panties look damp to me. What do y'all think?"

Y/n hears the deputies chattering lowly amongst themselves, probably afraid to say something obscene about the woman the sheriff is hooking up with.

"How many men seen you like this before? Who you let fuck you today?"

"No one sheriff."

"That's right. That pussy is mine."

His rough hand caresses her ass. He wants to spank her for talking back to him in front of the two younger officers. She was trying to embarrass him which called for a punishment.

"You better count 'em or I'll start over."

Y/n just groaned in anticipation of the first blow to her ass. She hates how Lee takes his time and she wishes he would just get it over with. Her heart is racing as Lee gets a firm grip on her hair.

"Bad little girls get their asses spanked. Don't think just because you're not peddling your cunt that you're not a whore," he threatened with anger.

Her panties were ripped off with rage and she was truly exposed. The warm, summer breeze ghosted across her cunt but it made her shiver. She can already feel the heaviness of her hand on her ass before it even comes down. The first smack was so loud that it pierced the dark night's air. Her cry was even louder.

"One," she says breathlessly. Her eyes close so she doesn't have to look at the two men staring at her with wide eyes and tents in their pants.

Lee believes pain is the best discipline for a girl like Y/n. He would never do this to his wife, but he also doesn't fuck his wife like he fucks Y/n. She was a tough thing to crack but she rides him into the night until his car is shaking and he's cumming into a condom.

"You can count louder than that, cherry."

He was mocking her only because they had an audience. The belittling and having her body exposed was humiliating. But that first slap of her ass sent all the blood in her body rushing to pussy.

Lee smacked her ass again and again and each time she pathetically sobbed out the number of hits her ass has received so far. Her skin felt hot and it wasn't because of the temperature. She wanted to cry so bad but she kept it. She has never cried in front of Lee and she isn't going to start now; no matter how painful his brutality is.

"Look how fucking wet she is from getting her ass whooped."

Y/n heard the shuffling of the deputies and there was not doubt they were looking at her glistening sex. She felt like she was dripping and she wanted to press her thighs together so bad to hide herself. That would only make things worse for her and the last thing she needs is a harsher punishment.

"Learned your lesson, cherry?"

She nods, her eyes still closed.

"Good girl."

The sound of Lee's belt coming undone makes her stick her ass higher into the air. She's been trained like a dog who wants a treat to behave this way. A sense of shame consumes her as she acts so shamelessly.

"My good little bitch," he coos. He pulls himself out and lines up the head with her wet slit. "I don't have a condom on me sweetheart. I finally get to feel that pussy of yours."

He was lying. He always kept a pack of condoms in the glove compartment of his patrol car because he couldn't bring them into his home. Plus having them in there would always leave him ready to fuck Y/n. He did not like the feeling of condoms but he can't knock her up when next year is an election year. Having a bastard child with a barmaid from Tecumseh would fuck everything up and send his efforts down the drain.

"Lee no! You have to use a condom."

"I don't have to do anything."

She's stupid to think he would listen to her. She is completely powerless and can only operate to his whims.

"Then please pull out...please," she whispers in defeat. The laugh he lets out tells her that she doesn't get a say in this at all.

Lee pushes on her back with one hand and the other is holding onto her hip. He finally sinks into her and he is in paradise.

"You expect me to pull out when your cunt is this warm and tight? No fucking chance darlin'"

He starts to fuck into her, each thrust earning him a pathetic moan. She feels so good wrapped around him and he vows to never wear condoms with her again. She's the tightest thing he's had in years and he has to go slowly to brace himself or else he is gonna cum. This position gave him so much access to her cunt and he pushed in as deep as he could. His bare head was kissing her cervix over and over again. His thighs slapped against her bare ass and the noise reverberated into the night.

The deputies just stood there; eyes wide with shock but lust filling their veins. They never took Lee as a cheater yet he fucked Y/n he knew her body so well.

Tears slip down her face, but they aren't from sadness or anger. She's overwhelmed by the pleasure Lee is giving her that she can almost forget that they have an audience.

Lee lifted her head off of the hood of the car. She could see them in the reflection. She looked a mess while Lee looked like he was in heaven in her bare cunt.

"You wanna tell them how you never had a man in your ass until I fucked you? Begged for it like a whore?"

His voice has some much grit in it and Y/n wondered where this new fire in him came from. Lee was rough with her but never has he pounded into her like she was just a toy. Most would be surprised to know that Lee can be a gentle lover that had a primal urge to be inside of Y/n. She wondered if he was like that with his wife, but according to him she was just a "wet blanket." Y/n does not know whether or not to believe him because it's not uncommon for men to disparage their wives to women they're having sex with on the side.

"Gonna cum Lee," she cried.

He felt her tighten around him and he was about to cum too. He was going to cum inside of her.

"Show 'em how you cum for me. Let 'em see that pretty face of yours."

Lee pounded into her until she was crying out. Her orgasm wrecked her body and the only thing on her mind was Lee and his cock. If she was asked to speak right now it would just be babble. He fucked her stupid and he's not going to stop until he spills inside of her.

A few more hard, rough thrusts and Y/n feels Lee spill inside of her. She sighs at the blissful sensation. His grip on her loosens, a symptom of the exhaustion that starts to set in. His cock begins to soften inside of her but the two of them are still panting from what they just did.

"Go on. Go home," he slaps her ass one last time just to tease her. His eyes are trained on the sight of his cum oozing out of her and he never wants to look at anything else. But he has a shift to get back to

Y/n reluctantly stands up, her dress falling over her ass to cover her up. She can feel his cum running down her thigh but she's too embarrassed to clean herself up in front of these mean. She accidentally catches Deputy McConnell's eyes before she scurries off to her car. She hears a laugh and then a few more joining in. She's sure Lee is bragging to them about her always being willing to fuck him. She just hopes he doesn't tell them everything they have done together.

-

Lee had been silent for more than a week now. No calls, no visits to the bar, and even his patrol car hadn't ridden down her street. Y/n felt insecure about his absence; like he thought she was an easy slut like the rest of the barmaids. He knows she isn't willing to fuck anybody, but she was not sure if he believed her when she said it.

The days moved so slowly as she watched the door hoping he would come in one late night. She even hoped for a fight but suddenly no one had the energy anymore for a melee.

Y/n was working a late shift tonight. She'd cover the bar from 12 until last call. It was her day off but she had to fill in for some girl at the last minute. If it had been the weekend she would've said no, but it's a Tuesday night which means it would be an easy night of minimal work.

Y/n was wiping down glasses not five minutes after she clocked in and she heard the shrill voice of her co-worker Sydney.

"I'm not dealing with him. Last time I tried to cut him off he threatened to arrest me! I don't know where Sandy is but she needs to be the one here to deal with her brother."

Y/n's ears perked up. She didn't notice Lee in the room when she walked in. The room was dim and it was not always easy to make out customers, especially if they were far away.

"What's going on?"

Y/n walked over to where Cindy's voice was coming from and she was talking to their boss Leroy.

"Sheriff is drunk off his ass and I'm supposed to deal with him. My shift ended five minutes ago and once I'm off the clock then anything that happens in this place is none of my concern!" She said with contempt.

"You work for me. You don't get to decide what you will and will not do at my bar!"

As much as Y/n wanted to avoid a tiff between her co-worker and boss, she wanted to talk to Lee even more.

"I'll take care of it."

Leroy didn't care either way. As long as he didn't have to deal with Lee who was pissed off at him about something. Lee often complained that her boss was a "useless fucker." Leroy walked away from the two and Cindy gave Y/n a small smile.

"Thank you."

"It's no problem. I'll see you tomorrow Cindy," Y/n called to the blonde who was already peeling out of the place. She doesn't think Cindy likes her all that much but she was at least courteous to Y/n.

The bar was dead enough for Y/n's other co-worker to cover while she went to deal with Lee.

He was at a table in one of the corners of the bar; slumped over in his chair and too intoxicated to speak in complete sentences. There was no way he could properly function or drive home. She had a choice to make whether to leave Lee like this or take him home. She had just gotten to work, but the night was nothing that her co-worker couldn't handle. If Leroy threw a fit and tried to fire her she could just get Lee to threaten him.

He was so heavy as he leaned on her to walk to her car. Y/n loathes this man yet she does so many caring things for him that it makes her stomach hurt. She gets nothing out of this exchange yet she continues to go back with him.

She placed him in the passenger seat of her car and he just mumbled to himself the entire ride to her apartment. She was thankful to be on the first floor because it would be a hazard to try to get Lee to walk up some stairs like this. She helped him sit on her raggedy couch. He looked like he was going to vomit.

"How many drinks did you have?" She began her interrogation on him, but she doubts she will get a coherent answer tonight.

"Just one."

As he spoke he reached into his pocket to show her the "one" bottle that he drank from tonight. A few candy wrappers fell out of his pocket when he pulled the bottle out. They were jolly ranchers wrappers which was the kind she bought to share with him.

"What happened? Why did you get so fucked up? I need to get you home Lee."

Y/n was in panic mode. There was no way she could take Lee home but she didn't know how to deal with him like this. He had been tipsy around her before, sure, but she has never seen him this drunk.

"No, no...don't wanna go back. Just let me sleep it off," he slurred. He haphazardly kicked his shoes off and pulled his jacket off so he could get comfortable on her couch. He's going to wake up with a sore back if he sleeps on that thing.

"You can't get drunk like this ever again. And you also can't stay the night here ever again. Your wife is going to find out one day

He just groaned and turned away from her on the couch. She just sighed in defeat. She will deal with him in the morning.

-

She feels the bed around 3 am. She could not sleep after leaving Lee in a state like that on her couch and she has been up ever since. Y/n was so tired but her body was not agreeing with sleep at the moment. Heavy arms wrapped around her as she held her breath.

"You smell so good, Florence. Just like roses."

"Lee, it's me." She waited for him to respond, afraid that he would get upset or angry with her for no good reason. Her ego was a little hurt after he mistook her for his wife.

"I'm just jokin' with you cherry." Even though he was suffering from a hangover, he still has the capacity to tease her.

Y/n turned around to face him but he had his eyes closed and a pleased smile on his face. She can't deny how handsome he looks, especially with his full cheeks.

"Why did you get that drunk last night?"

"I'm a grown man."

"You weren't acting like it last night. You were like a defiant child," her voice began to rise in volume and Lee winced.

"Don't yell, please. You can be mad at me all you want but please don't yell. I've got a headache that's going to last for days."

"It's what you deserve."

Lee finally opened his eyes just so he could see that pouty look on her face. Y/n called him a defiant child, but she was one to talk. She was always acting like a brat around him.

"You don't mean that girl. If you did, you would've left me at Tecumseh. You care about me."

"Lee-"

"Just admit it. You care."

"Lee, you are married."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

This was the uncomfortable conversation Y/n wanted to have. It was always shot down by Lee. He had no problem fucking her, but talking about where they stand or his cheating was always a problem.

"Cherry, I wish you'd just let things be as they are. Wish you would always be a good girl like you are in the back of my cruiser."

"I don't want to be your mistress Lee. If we keep doing this then we're going to get caught and your wife will leave you. Then what?"

"I'll move you in and put a ringer on your finger. Maybe give you a few kids too," he chuckled.

Y/n couldn't bring herself to find joy in his comments. She has some underlying feelings for him and he's right, she does care. But her conscience can't stop thinking about the fact that he has a wife. The only time she forgets is when his dick is inside of her.

"I'm a whore, remember?"

"Just because I fucked you like one in front of my deputies doesn't mean you are one," his hand rested on her hot cheek and he stroked it with his thumb, "you're my cherry girl. The only person I love being inside of. You act like you hate me but you're always wet for me; I bet you're wet right now. I love what we have and I don't want it to end."

She has no more to say to him. She just sighs and closes her eyes. Lee can practically see the wheels turning in her head. While he saw this as a very simple situation, she viewed it as more complex and always seemed to look for ways to make it complicated for the two to just enjoy it for what it is. Y/n is young and Lee is sure she is not ready to settle down yet. They're just having some fun. And if they do in fact get caught and his wife leaves him, then his cherry would make one hell of a wife.

[sanguineterrain]

Brooklyn Honey - Bucky Barnes x Reader

(Repost!) Hello, this is for the lovely @wkemeup​’s 9k writing challenge. I decided to go with the song prompt “Life in the City” by The Lumineers. It really reminded me of 40s Bucky.

Title: Brooklyn Honey

Summary: Life in the city ain’t always so pretty, but you’ve got Bucky and he’s got you.  

Pairing: 1940s!Bucky Barnes x female!reader

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: nah

***

“That’s so not how you do it.”

“Sorry, I must’ve missed the day you wrote the manual on how to put up curtains.”

“You sure did, and I can tell you as an expert, the nails aren’t supposed to resemble a mountain range.”

“Smartass. C’mere.”

Bucky’s palm opened and you took a nail, carefully tapping it into the wall.

“Or is it the skyline you’re going for?”

“You’re pretty mouthy for an assistant.”

“I keep it interesting, doll.”

“Is that what we’re calling it?”

“James Barnes, what on earth are you doing in there?!”

Your eyes went wide and you hurried to scramble off the chair you were standing on. Bucky put a hand on your back, shaking his head.

“Buck—”

“I got it, don’t worry. Keep hammering.”

“But—”

“Honey, don’t you trust me?”

“Absolutely not.”

More knocking, faster and louder this time.

“Coming, Mrs. Anderson!”

Bucky buttoned up his shirt, smoothing his pomade-slicked hair back, and went to answer.

You stepped down from the chair anyway, daring to peek around the corner. 

He had his arms up, trying to fill the entire door frame and hide the obnoxiously yellow curtains you probably weren’t supposed to have. Mrs. Anderson, Steve and Bucky’s busybody next door neighbor, was a small, shriveled, old woman with a perpetually pinched face that looked like it had been stored in a jar of formaldehyde for the last twenty years. She kept trying to look over Bucky’s shoulder but he wouldn’t let her, moving when she did.

“—could’ve sworn I heard hammering coming from this apartment.”

“Oh! You must’ve heard me fixing my bike.” 

“You don’t have a bike, James.”

“Did I say my bike? I meant Steve’s.”

“Steve rides a bike?”

“Absolutely. Keeps him fit.”

“I don’t recall seeing him ever—”

“Well, bye, Mrs. Anderson! Always a pleasure to see you, ma’am.”

She gave another stern look before shaking her head, walking away.

You sighed as Bucky shut the door with his foot, a too sly smile on his face.

“Didn’t I tell you to trust me?”

“I think you might be a worse liar than Steve.”

“Well, ouch, doll.”

“First of all, who’s ever heard of needing a hammer to fix a bike?”

“We can be the first.”

“Next time, I’m answering the door.”

You clambered back onto the chair, returning to knocking in the nails. 

“I still don’t understand why you wanted curtains in the first place.” 

“It adds a homely touch, doll. Aren’t you the one who’s always complaining about how drab this place is?”

“Of course, but it’s not my apartment.” 

“It could be, with how often you’re over,” Bucky said sweetly. 

“Keep dreaming, Barnes.” 

“I will,” he assured with a smile that could melt butter. 

You shook your head and returned to focus on the curtains. True, the first one was beyond help in terms of nail placement, but the least you could do was try and make the next one even. 

Bucky had offered at least ten times to do it himself but there was no way he was getting his hands on a hammer after what had happened when he’d tried to install some shelves last winter. 

Besides, you were better at decorating when it came down to it. At least, that’s what Bucky kept insisting, letting you do essentially anything you wanted to the apartment. 

The chair suddenly groaned under additional weight and you startled as you felt the side of a body press against yours. 

“How’s it goin’?”

“Bucky, this chair really isn’t meant for two people.” 

“You sure? Seems pretty sturdy to me.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

Bucky wrapped an arm around your waist and you fixed him with a look. 

“What? Don’t want you to fall.”

“How valiant of you.”

“Ain’t it?”

He hopped off before you could scold him further, grinning up at you. 

“Beer?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Bucky disappeared and returned a minute later with an open bottle for you, holding it so you could sip safely while still perched on the chair.

Then you kept hammering, eyes narrowed as you focused on not hitting anything other than the nail.

Bucky watched from the floor as you did so, leaning back on his hands.

“What’re you looking at?” you asked after a while, glancing at him from the corner of your eye.

He shrugged, a gentle smile on his face.

“The city.”

***

“Honey, I’m home!”

“What did I say about that, Barnes?”

“You said… you’ll love me for all eternity because you’re as sweet as honey?”

“I think it was more along the lines of, ‘don’t call me honey unless you mean it.’”

“I always mean it, Y/N.”

And that was a little more sincerity than you were willing to explore, so you pointed to the bag instead.

“What’s that?”

Bucky grinned, setting a giant paper sack on the counter.

“Lemons.”

“What?”

“Lemons. You know, the little yellow fruits that make you do this?”

Bucky puckered his mouth and smacked his tongue, eyes screwed shut.

“Lemon’s not a fruit.”

“It sure is! Fruit got seeds. Read that in a book about agriculture. We produce a lot of corn, did you know that?“

“Okay, Bucky, the presiding question still remains: why do you have every lemon in the city?”

“There was a good deal at the docks. Dirt cheap for produce. Some guys told me they were takin’ some home for their wives. Didn’t want you to feel left out.”

“I’m not your wife.”

Bucky just grinned. You rolled your eyes.

“I don't know who taught you this, but the way to a girl’s heart is not twenty pounds of lemons.”

“Think of all the lemonade we can make.”

“Unless you’ve also got FDR and his cabinet in those bags, we’re gonna have a lot of leftovers.”

“Look at it this way: no vitamin C deficiency. One less thing to worry ‘bout.”

“Bucky.”

“They’re not all lemons, doll. I got other stuff too. Tomatoes, cabbage, snuck some cucumbers, even bananas.”

You sighed, smiling tiredly. This ration was taking its toll on everyone. You knew Bucky was doing his best, had seen the vegetables and thought of you and how much you missed having cucumber salad and tomato sandwiches like you used to.

“Thank you, Bucky, really. I appreciate you.”

You brushed past him to begin preparing the excess vegetables you three wouldn’t eat this week to pickle. Salt and sugar was going to be hard to gather, but you’d manage. You always did.

“Welcome, doll.” 

He beamed, eyes full of warmth as he watched you. 

“You gonna stay for dinner?”

“I dunno. Seems like Steve’s gettin’ kinda tired of me,” you laughed.

“Never. ‘Sides, even if he was, doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, really?”

“Nope. ‘Cause you stay for me.”

“And where did you get that idea from?”

He shrugged.

“Seemed kinda obvious, doll. You’re smitten, admit it.”

“Oh dear, you’ve got me all figured out. However did you know?”

“I’m a bright fella.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You ain’t saying no…”

“Really, I have to say no? Can’t you tell I only stick around for the great deals you get on produce?” 

“But it’s me that gets the great deals, so really, you’re still staying for me.” 

Bucky was against the counter now, shoulder to shoulder with you. 

You sighed, hand on your hip as you stared at the table. 

“What the hell are we going to do with all these lemons?” 

“We’ll figure something out. Always do, don’t we?”

You hummed, leaning your head on his shoulder, aware he was talking about more than the lemons. 

“Yeah. We always do.” 

***

Steve had been home for a while, wordlessly letting you in when you’d shown up an hour ago. You didn’t have to explain anything to him anymore. 

The record player was on, crooning gently. Steve was in the corner, drawing, away from the window after the breeze had whipped his papers around one too many times.

“Can’t believe they’re building another skyscraper down on Lawrence.”

Steve frowned.

“Really? Won’t be able to see the sunset now.”

“Yeah. And Brooklyn’s not exactly known for its scenery to begin with. Saw a rat and a pigeon fighting over a pretzel this morning.”

Steve chuckled from the floor, shaking his head.

“Times are tough. Even for rats and pigeons.” 

“Sure are.”

“Nice curtains, by the way. I like the color.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry. Did Bucky ask—?”

“No,” he answered, smile evident in his voice. “But that’s alright. I know he’s just tryin’ to gauge what you like.”

“What?”

“Yeah, after the war’s over and all, he’s gonna try and buy a nicer place.”

“And he wants my furnishing tips?”

Steve shrugged, gaze soft and knowing.

“Guess so.”

You cleared your throat, pushing a lock of hair behind your ear.

“Want some lemonade?”

“Jesus, there’s more? I thought we’d run out of bushels.”

“You’d think, right? I put ‘em in the icebox so they won’t spoil so fast.”

“Sure, yeah. Thanks, Y/N.”

You were in the middle of stirring the pitcher when Bucky came in.

He didn’t greet you or Steve immediately, like he usually did, instead setting down his keys, then slapping the mail onto the table. 

“Well, hey there, mister. Fancy a drink? Today’s special is sour lemonade, your favorite.”

Bucky looked up, startled, and glanced at the pitcher before nodding, attempting a half smile.

“Sure, doll. Thanks.”

“Everything okay, Buck?”

He nodded, slipping away to the bathroom with a sigh.

You turned to Steve, who shrugged.

“Long day at the docks, I guess.”

***

June twelfth. That was when Bucky was being shipped out, somewhere in Europe, too far from you. This entire year you’d been holding your breath, hoping, needing the draft to leave him alone. 

Now they were taking him away from you in less than a week. 

You were in the apartment, lying on the floor, on Bucky’s second to last day. That’s how he found you upon coming home. 

“Trying to count all the cracks in the ceiling, doll? You’ll be here all night.”

You had a glass of lemonade by your head, spiked with a bit of rum. It was already warm, because it was summer and things were supposed to be warm in the summer.

The curtains danced in front of the window, yellow like sunshine and all those goddamn lemons in the freezer. The only respite from an otherwise colorless world.

“This city is so ugly.”

Bucky looked up at the sound of your voice. He walked over, crouching by your arm.

“Think so?”

“Yeah. Can’t find a single pretty thing in the city.”

“I can.”

“Can you?”

“Sure. She’s looking at me right now.”

“That was sappy.”

“Yes it was.”

Bucky lay down, rolling onto his side next to you, taking a sip from your glass.

“But I ain’t mean it any less.”

You hummed, closing your eyes.

“Well, for what it’s worth then, I think you’re handsome.”

“Oh, yeah?”

You could hear his proud smile.

“Don’t make me take it back.”

“No, I’m just surprised to hear it is all.”

“Surprised, huh? I’m certain I ain’t the first one to call you handsome.”

“You’re the only one I wanna hear it from.”

Something fluttered in your chest.

“What d’you say then? You and I, think we can take on a city as ugly as ours?”

He smiled.

“With you, doll?”

“Yeah.”

“With you, of course.”

“Good. I’m gonna hold you to that.”

Bucky propped his head up on his elbow. It was quiet again, with only your occasional sighs and his quiet breaths.

“What’re you looking at?” you breathed, opening your eyes.

“You.”

Bucky flicked a drop of lemonade from the tip of your nose.

You turned, now face to face.

And oh, Bucky’s blues. Those had been your color even before the curtains.

“I’m gonna miss you,” you blurted.

He smiled a little sadly.

“Gonna miss you too, Y/N.”

You pushed your lips together, taking a deep breath.

“You were right, you know.”

“‘Bout what?”

“That day when you brought home all those lemons. You said that I stay for you.”

Bucky’s lips quirked, gaze fond like it always was.

“All those times I stayed for dinner and pretended to know what I was doing putting up those curtains. I stayed for you.”

You wiped your nose quickly, sniffling.

“And I’m gonna keep staying.”

“Yeah? What if the bridge collapses tomorrow?”

“I’ll swim.”

“Even in the winter?”

“I’ll get myself a pair of ice skates.”

“You don’t know how to skate, doll.”

“That’s right. So you better come back safe and teach me.”

Bucky leaned in, nose brushing your cheek. He rolled over and carefully straddled you, holding his weight.

“I’ll be there, honey.”

“Now what did we say about that?”

Bucky’s eyebrows pinched in thought.

“Don’t say it if I don’t mean it?”

You hummed, pulling him closer, arms around his neck. Bucky’s lips were a millimeter from yours, breath fanning over your chin.

“Mm, I think it was something about eternity.”

Bucky was soft, tangy and sweet. His scruff scraped your cheek and your fingers curled into the baby hairs at the nape of his neck.

He slid his hands under your back and turned so you were on top, head on his chest. You lay like that for a while, listening to his heartbeat, arms strong around you. 

Yellow fluttered in the breeze, tacked unevenly onto the wall, catching your eye. 

Bucky glanced to the side, chuckling.

“Don’t let Anderson take our curtains away.”

“Of course not. I spent a weekend on those. She’ll have to fight me for ‘em.”

“Good God. Now I gotta worry about you brawling with old ladies and Steve getting into alley fights while I’m gone?”

“Nah. Steve’ll help me.”

“Oh, great.”

You reached up, brushing his jaw with your knuckles.

“Call me honey again.”

“Honey, honey, honey.”

You reached up to get just one last kiss, except it definitely wasn’t going to be the last. It couldn’t be.

“They’re not gonna take you away from me.”

Bucky shook his head, kissing you much slower this time, trying to memorize you before time ran out.

“Never. ‘M gonna think of you and I’ll be back ‘fore we know it.”

You nodded, wishing hard, hoping somebody was listening. 

“Then, when I come back,” he whispered, promise riding on the summer air.

“We’re gonna make the best damn lemonade you’ve ever had.”

And maybe this city could take away your sunsets, your tea and jams, even your summer.

But if there was anything that was yours and yours only, it was the lemon pulp on Bucky’s lips and the undissolved sugar on your own, as bitter and pretty as home.

[connordavidscamera]

A Jealous Household | Connor Brashier

A/n: listen, I know it says y/n, but we all know it’s written about me, right? Okay, just wanna put that out there lol

Summary: Shawn and Brian want to have a party, but this party causes a few problems for Connor and y/n

Warnings: angst, underage drinking (for US standards, at least), pining

Word count: 7.5k, she’s a long one

***

“You want to have a party? When?” Y/n asks, closing her book and setting it in her lap.

“This weekend,” Shawn nods. “And it won’t be a big thing, I promise. Maybe fifteen, twenty people.”

“Thirty or forty, max,” Brian interjects.

I can’t help but laugh at that, neither can she as she says. “You know we can’t even fit thirty or forty people in the condo, right?”

“I know that, but that’s why we’ll have some of them in the backyard too.”

“So what’s the party even for?” She asks, leaning into my side. On instinct, I wrap my arm around her shoulders. 

They both shrug, “A house warming party? Does that still count if we’ve lived here for almost two months?” Shawn questions. 

She shrugs, “I don’t know. I mean, I don’t see why we couldn’t have one. We just have to be considerate of our neighbors. And nobody’s allowed in my room. If there’s alcohol, I’m not chancing anyone going into my room for a sloppy fuck.”

Shawn laughs, “So your sloppy fuck is gonna be in Connor’s room then?”

I roll my eyes at the comment. Shawn and Brian love to tease me about my crush on y/n. They have since the beginning. Shawn’s taunts are light hearted, but they’re plentiful now that we all live together. Brian’s at times feel almost malicious. But Brian also isn’t aware that I still have a crush on her, he thinks the feeling has passed. It definitely hasn’t. If anything, being in such tight quarters with her at all times has made me like her even more. Watching her move so effortlessly around our home - seeing her do her nightly routine, watching her polish her nails every Sunday like clockwork. I have undeniably fallen even deeper in love with her in just these few short weeks we’ve lived together and it’s killing me.

It’s killing me because we still haven’t talked about what she said to me a couple weeks ago when we were falling asleep together. I don’t even know if she remembers saying what she did. And I could have misinterpreted her words, I mean, she was falling asleep, her words were slurring. I could have misunderstood. At least, that’s what I’ve been telling myself every time the memory pops into my head. Which is about six times a day for the past three weeks.

Y/n gasps and tosses her book at him, "Asshole!"

He laughs, picking the book up off the floor from where it ricocheted off his chest. "I'm kidding. Kidding. But it's cool?"

She shrugs, "Yeah, whatever. Go nuts."

"Yes!" Shawn pumps his fist in the air before high fiving Brian. 

"We gotta get alcohol."

"Ah, wait. Before you two go broke buying drinks for the party, remember that we have bills to pay. So save us all a headache and make it BYOB."

Brian snaps and points at her with a click of his tongue. "This is why we keep you around."

She laughs, "Oh is that why?"

"Indeed," he nods.

"Okay, well can I have my book back, please?"

"Yeah, here," Shawn leans over the coffee table to hand it to her before disappearing to his room, Brian heading to the kitchen.

"What's wrong?" I ask, not looking up from my phone. I can sense that the wheels are turning in her head and she sighs dramatically.

"I don't remember which page I was on."

I force myself not to laugh. "243."

“Hmm?” She flips to that page and looks up at my side profile. “How’d you know that?”

I shrug, “I always memorize the page you’re on before you close the book, just in case.”

She smiles sheepishly and presses a kiss to my shoulder. “You’re cute,” she whispers before turning her attention back to the page in front of her and resting her head in the crook of my neck.

I squeeze her shoulder hoping she doesn’t look up and notice the growing blush on my cheeks, “You’re cuter.”

---

“Do you have any idea who’s coming to this?” Y/n asks as we move a cooler out to the backyard.

I shake my head, “Not really. I think Matt and his girlfriend, honestly, I have no idea. It’s Shawn, so there’s bound to be more people than we’re anticipating.”

“Lots of girls then.”

“Why do you say that?” I ask, setting the cooler down, providing her with my undivided attention (which she has always had). 

“He’s making a name for himself out here. Playing a few more gigs than at home. I noticed at the last one, he’s got a few groupies.”

I chuckle, “Oh really?”

She nods, “There were like five girls there just holding onto his every word. It was actually pretty cool to watch. But he got nervous. Started fidgeting with his necklace, so I had to get him out of there, which of course resulted in death glares from his adoring fans.”

“What? What do you mean? Death glares towards you?”

Y/n laughs, fixing the collar of her shirt that’s falling off her shoulder. “Yeah. I think they thought there was more there than there is,” she shrugs, “And if looks could kill, I would be dead five times over.”

I shake my head, I don’t like that thought, and I say as much. “I don’t like that thought.”

“What? Shawn having groupies?”

“No, girls staring daggers at you because you’re friends with him.”

“It’s not a big deal.”

I know it’s not, but the thought of someone not liking her is appalling to me. “I still don’t like it.”

“Is it because if something happened to me you’d be left to live alone with Shawn and Brian? Because that would make me sad too.”

I force a laugh, “That, and I’d be bored without you.”

She nods understandingly, “I get it. I am the light of your life,” she teases.

You are, I think to myself. “Yeah, yeah,” I say instead, stepping forward, wrapping my arm around her waist. “Let’s get inside, it’s hot as hell out here.”

Shawn and Brian are sitting on the floor in front of the TV, trying to get the wifi hooked up to it. We barely got wifi installed at the beginning of the week, but we’ve all been so busy, we haven’t had the chance to get everything hooked up to it. 

“It’s not working!” Brian complains, throwing his hands up in frustration.

“Well try again! That’s what the router says.” Shawn counters back.

“Let me see that,” Brian snatches the router out of his hands. “Dumbass! You’re reading me the product number! Not the fucking password!”

Y/n and I hide our faces to keep from bursting into a fit of laughter, but we both break when Shawn pouts when Brian puts the router back in his hands after successfully connecting the TV.

“Oh, what’s with the pouty face, rockstar?” y/n asks.

“Brian’s a dick,” he mutters, which causes Brian to punch his shoulder.

“Ow!” Shawn exclaims, reaching to hold his arm. “That hurt!”

“It was supposed to. Want me to do it again?”

“Craigen,” y/n shakes her head and before I can protest, she’s out of my grasp and I suddenly feel lonely without her body next to mine. “No more fighting.”

“Just one time in the face,” he tries to reason. “Just once. Come on, it’s a long time coming. I’ve wanted to punch him in the face since we were kids.”

“No,” she squats down behind Shawn, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, leaning her head against his. I watch Shawn fall into her touch and I’m envious of him. Even though she holds onto me in the exact same way, almost daily, she isn’t right now and it makes me long for it. Especially when I watch her start to massage his scalp and he hums because her head scratches feel like you’re in heaven. “You can’t punch him in the face. That’s the money maker,” she squishes his cheeks with her free hand and speaks in a mock baby voice, “And if he’s got a black eye how will he charm girls with his pretty face tonight?”

Shawn laughs and pushes her hand away, but he reaches back and pats her calf. “Sit down,” he says and she obliges, her legs spreading and bracketing Shawn’s. He falls back into her and takes her hand that was just squeezing him and brings it to his lips to kiss her knuckles before bringing it to his hair as well. “More head scratches.”

She rolls her eyes, but continues anyway. “So fucking needy.”

He hums, “Could fall asleep like this.”

She hums too and looks up at me with a smile that melts my heart, “Connor does all the time.”

I nod, “I do. Feels good. Your hands are magic.”

“How magic? Like you could get me off in three seconds?”

“Brian!” I growl. Yep, we can always count on him to ruin the mood.

But y/n’s laughing, “I’m sure I could, I mean, if you ask your first girlfriend, you only last five so I don’t think it’ll be difficult,” she answers.

Shawn’s hysterical in y/n’s arms, as am I as I fall to the floor, clutching my stomach. But Brian? Brian is livid.

“I can’t believe she told you that! She said she wouldn’t tell anyone!”

This only makes Shawn and I laugh harder. “Wait, did that actually happen?” I ask between fits. “Craigen, come on,” I groan when he’s silent. “Five seconds?”

“It was our first time!”

“And last, apparently,” y/n comments.

“Shut up!” he groans. “Fuck, I can’t stand you.”

She nods, “I know.”

“No, but seriously, when did she tell you that?”

Y/n breaks out into a wide grin. “She didn’t. But you just did. Thanks for that.”

He’s speechless. Absolutely speechless. And his face is so red; I don’t know if it’s in anger or embarrassment, but either way, Shawn pipes up. “Hey, if it makes you feel any better, my first time I only lasted like twenty seconds.”

“I lasted fifteen,” I confirm, but I immediately regret it when y/n’s face morphs into one of confusion. 

Oh, oh fuck. I never told her that I-

“Wait, you’ve had sex?”

“You didn’t know?” Shawn questions, looking back at her.

She shakes her head, “I guess not.”

I sigh and scratch the back of my head, “Yeah. It was… during that time where we weren’t really talking,” I mumble.

She nods slowly, scoffing, and I can’t quite pin her emotion, but it’s definitely a cross between anger and… is that jealousy? “Ah, good ol’ McKenzie,” she mutters under her breath. She exhales deeply out her nose and focuses her attention back to playing with Shawn’s hair. 

“I would have told-”

“We weren’t talking. I know,” she cuts me off. “And it’s none of my business. It wasn’t then, and it’s not now either.”

“Oh, right. Okay,” I nod once. “New subject.”

---

We’re tiptoeing around each other the rest of the day. Or more so, I’m tiptoeing around her. She somehow is coming off as completely unbothered, but at the same time completely bothered. I don’t know what to make of this situation. I don’t know if I should apologize for not telling her, or if she even wants me to apologize. I don’t know and it’s killing me not knowing what I can do to make this better for us tonight.

I’m helping Brian pour more ice into the cooler we have in the kitchen when she walks out of her room. “Where’s Shawn?” she asks.

I look up at her and my heart stops for a moment. She’s wearing red, my heart never knows what to do when she wears that color. Does it stop? Does it speed up? Yes. 

“He went to his car to get the beer we got this afternoon,” Brian answers, closing the lid. 

SHe nods, “I’ll go help him.”

I watch as she leaves, not taking a full breath until the door shuts behind her. 

“She still mad at you?” 

I shake my head, “I don’t know. I don’t even know if she is mad at me.”

“Well, it’s y/n. You kept something from her for almost three years. I’m willing to bet she’s a little upset.”

I sigh, “Yeah, I know. But I mean, how was I supposed to tell her. She would barely even look at me during that time, so -”

“Yeah, because McKenzie was a bitch to her. How was she supposed to look at you when she was practically threatened or called out or god know what when you weren’t listening. I’d hate to know what she actually said when none of us were there to listen.”

I exhale deeply. I know my ex was the worst to her - she’s the entire reason y/n and I weren’t talking. She told me not to hang out with her as much, so I didn’t (also because I was trying to prove to Brian that I didn’t have feelings for y/n anymore. That was a mistake.) “So, I should apologize.”

Brian shrugs, “We all know you’re gonna apologize. You can’t stand it when she’s mad at you. Honestly, we can’t either. We have no idea what to do when you two aren’t talking. And since we all live together now, it’ll be even more awkward for you two to not talk.”

I nod, “Yeah. I know. I’ll apologize later. You should go get ready. I can finish up out here.”

Brian claps my shoulder, “Thanks, man. I’ll be quick.” He disappears at the same time Shawn and y/n walk in the front door with the drinks. I make my way over to them.

“Here, let me get that for you,” I tell her, reaching to take the cases from her hands.

“Oh, it’s okay. I got it. You want these inside or out, rockstar?”

“In the fridge, in the back. Gotta keep the good stuff for us.” Shawn hands me a pottle of vodka, “Put this in the freezer? I got it for y/n, I’m gonna make her a new drink.”

“You’re gonna risk giving her alcohol poisoning?” I question, raising one eyebrow at him.

He rolls his eyes, “I’ve gotten better at making drinks, dickhead.”

I laugh and hold my hands up in surrender, “Alright, sure.”

“I’m gonna put these in my room for now, and then I’m gonna get ready.”

“Brian’s in the shower, you can use my bathroom,” I say as y/n moves past us to the kitchen. 

“Good looking out, thanks.”

And now it’s just me and her. It’s like any normal day. So why is my heart beating so quickly?

I watch her move some things around in the fridge to make room for the drinks, and I can’t help but smile. “You look pretty tonight,” I tell her, leaning against the counter.

She looks over at me and smiles softly, “Thanks.”

I clear my throat, “Hey, y/n?”

“Hmm?” she turns her attention back to her task at hand.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” she asks, closing the fridge.

“For not telling you that I slept with her.”

“Oh,” she nods. “It’s fine. It really is not any of my business who you have and haven’t slept with.”

“Well maybe not, but you are my best friend, and we tell each other everything. I know if we were on better terms when you were dating Noah, you would have told me that you-”

“I didn’t tell you because we didn’t sleep together.”

“What?” I stare at her with wide eyes. 

“Noah and I didn’t sleep together.”

“But I thought-”

“You assumed. But no, it didn’t happen. I wasn’t ready. I mean, I barely let him kiss me, so how the hell was I gonna sleep with him?”

I nod because I don’t know what else to do or even say. She’s right, I just assumed that they had sex because he always had his hands all over her. I almost scoff at the thought. I hated watching him hold her in the hallway, his hands in her back pockets as he pulled her closer to him. Seeing them together everyday made my heart clench every time because it should have been me. I wonder if that’s how she felt when I had a girlfriend. 

“Look, it doesn’t matter, okay? So, let’s just drop it. It’s not like I’m mad you had sex, I was just surprised to find out this way, that’s all.”

“Yeah, I get it. And I would have told you sooner, but there really was never a time, you know? And it was just with her a couple times, nothing since.”

“Connor, you really don’t need to explain it to me. Actually, if we could just stop talking about her all together, that’d be great.”

“No, yeah. Of course. It’s dropped.”

She nods, “Okay, good. So, you should go get dressed.”

“What do you mean? I’m wearing this,”  I gesture to my torn t-shirt and my sweatpants with paint stains up and down the legs from when we painted the living room a few weeks ago. I’m totally joking, but I want to see her reaction anyway.

She looks me up and down and scoffs, “Yeah, no. Go change. You’re not wearing that.”

I pout dramatically, “Why not?”

“One, those pants are a mess. Two, you know you run hot when you drink, so why would you wear sweatpants? And three, that shirt is literally falling apart. You are not wearing that, go change.”

I can’t fight the smile that tugs at my lips because just like that we’re back to normal. “Okay, I’m going. Do you have something you’d like for me to wear?”

“Yes, your black pants with the white tank top and your peachy cream shirt. The one you wore for our graduation party.”

I nod, “Yes, ma’am. You wanna do my hair?”

“Come find me when you’re done, and I’ll see what I can do.”

---

I’m talking to my friend Will out in the backyard as the party becomes bigger than anticipated. Yeah, definitely called that situation. 

“Bro, I wish I would have saved up more so I could have gotten a place like you guys did. I emailed my roommate last week to see what he wanted to get for the dorm and he straight up said, ‘I don’t plan to be roommates long, so nothing.’”

I can’t help but laugh, “Hey, we’d take you in over Brian, but he’d throw a bitch fit.”

He laughs too, twisting the cap off his beer. “So what’s it like living with y/n? Everything good?”

“Yeah, everything’s great. She knows how to run a household. She made a chore chart that goes on the fridge. Shawn had to beg her to take it down for the party because he was embarrassed.”

“Sounds like y/n. But that’s not what I meant.”

I take a swig of my beer and shrug, “There’s nothing else to say really. She’s nice to live with.”

“No progression between you two.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right, right. Because you’re not in love with her, right.”

“Will, come on. Not tonight.”

“Okay, okay. I get it. We’re not in a teasing mood tonight.”

Or ever. Will is a great friend of mine, and I would take a bullet for him, but he asks me for y/n updates every time we’re together, and I never have any for him. When I told him we were moving in together, he was stoked, but less so when I told him we were moving with Shawn and Brian too. 

He - like Shawn - is an avid supporter of us getting together. Will found out about my so-called crush one night in high school, actually a couple weeks after my breakup with McKenzie. Y/n and I still weren’t talking. I was trying to mend things and  she was trying to push me further away. I don’t remember much of the night he found out because I got shit faced drunk, but I somehow admitted to him that I had feelings for her and he’s convinced himself that he knows the biggest secret in the world. He treats it like he holds the key to the universe. If anyone wants us together more than I do, it’s him.

“Just don’t want to risk her hearing anything,” I tell him. “I already made things awkward earlier.”

“What? How?”

I shake my head, “Let it slip that Kenz and I slept together.”

He blanches. “She didn’t know?!”

I shake my head, “No. I never found the right time to tell her. But she keeps saying it isn’t her business, so I don’t know if that means she’s hurt by it or if I’m imagining it because right now it seems like she doesn’t really care. But - I don’t know, I want her to, I guess.” 

He smirks, “She cares.”

“I don’t know,” I mutter, looking inside, lifting my bottle up to my lips, but halting when I see her standing near the sliding glass door with - “Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“What?” Will asks, turning toward the door. “What hap - is that? Wait, is that Noah? What is he doing here?”

My jaw clenches, just like the grip around the bottle in my hand. “Better question, why the hell is he so close to her?”

Will sucks in a breath, “Are they still friends?”

I don’t answer him because I don’t know. I’m 99% sure they aren’t, but that 1% that says yes is simply because I’m watching them right now and she’s hugging him and letting him kiss her cheek before he pulls away. “I didn’t think they were. She hasn’t brought him up since the breakup.”

I don’t take my eyes off them as I start chugging the rest of my beer. It was still pretty full, but at this moment, I need to finish it because I need something stronger. 

“I’m gonna go get a drink,” I mutter, tossing my bottle in the trashcan near the cooler. I walk inside, but neither of them notice me. I shake my head and walk to Shawn’s room where he hid most of the hard stuff. I find the bottle of tequila that he stashed because he knew if he put it out, it’d go fast. I twist the top off and take, maybe a little more than a shot. I cough into my elbow when I pull the bottle back because wow he got the strong stuff.

Shaking my head, I close the bottle back up and sneak out of Shawn’s room. When I enter the living room, they’re still standing there talking. Or, he’s talking, she’s nodding at something he’s saying. I click my tongue and walk into the kitchen to grab another beer. SHould I be mixing my alcohol? No, I should not. Is that going to stop me? No, it is not. 

My girl’s ex-boyfriend is over there talking to her and touching her like they’re best buds and I can’t stand it. I can’t stand him. 

I still remember the day she told us that she was going on a date with him. 

All four of us are sitting in our usual booth at the diner, everything seems to be going like it always has. Just us four, laughing and making our weekend plans. The difference though is that y/n and I aren’t sitting shoulder to shoulder right now. She’s pushed against the window, and I’m toward about as far left as I can get without it being noticeable, or falling. 

“So, we’re aiming for Saturday afternoon, right? Y/n, you’ll ride with me?” Shawn asks.

“Oh,” she sits up straight, “um, could we maybe do it on Sunday instead? I kind of already have plans on Saturday.”

“What?” Brian furrows his brows, “Without us?”

She nods, “Yeah,” she takes in a sharp breath beside me. “I um… I kinda, I have a date.”

At that exact moment, our heads whip in her direction - I’m pretty sure if I turned any faster I would have given myself whiplash.

“A date?” I ask as calmly as I can.

“With who?” Shawn questions.

She shrugs, “You know that guy Noah? I have him in like all of my AP classes? He asked me out after class this morning.”

I don’t think I can clench my jaw any harder. Noah. I hate him. I’ve never personally met him, but I hate him. “Cool,” I mutter, turning my head back to the table to reach for my drink. 

“Well?” Shawn prompts. “What are you gonna do? Where is he taking you?”

She clasps her hands in her lap and shrugs again. “I don’t know. He hasn’t told me. Said he wanted it to be a surprise.”

“Ooh, romantic,” Brian teases.

“You hate surprises,” I mumble into my cup.

Y/n clears her throat and shifts uncomfortably in her seat. “It’s just one date. Not a big deal.”

“Okay, sure,” Brian says. “So Sunday then?”

“And you’ll tell us all about it?”

“Sure.”

There are very few times that I wish I was deaf, but that day was one of them. I didn’t sleep that whole night. I couldn’t. And the night of her date? Forget it. I was up all night wondering what was happening. Did he hold her hand? Did he hug her? Did that bastard take her first kiss? The first kiss that was supposed to belong to me? 

And right now, as I watch him reach for her elbow again, I decide, fuck it. I don’t care if I look like a jealous asshole, I’m taking my girl away from him. I stride over to them and place my hand on her hip, “Hey, baby. Can you help me find the bottle opener? I can’t remember what drawer you put it in the other day, and I think my eyes are failing me.”

She shakes her head, “Um, yeah. It should be in the drawer closest  to the fridge.”

“I checked there, please, come help me look.”

She rolls her eyes and turns back to Noah who is staring daggers at my hand on her hip. I smirk. “Noah, it was good catching up with you. I’ll find you later. I’m gonna help him out.”

He looks back up at her and forces a smile, “Sure. Sounds good. Save me dance?”

Over my dead body. “Come on, baby,” I say, guiding her toward the kitchen.

She steps in front of me, mumbling a couple excuse me’s to the people blocking the kitchen. Then she b-line’s to the drawer closer to the fridge, which I definitely did not check because I wasn’t really looking for the bottle opener. I just needed an excuse to get her away from Noah.

“Here,” she holds it out to me. “Wait, I thought Shawn got twist tops.” She takes the bottle from my hand and laughs, “Bub, it twists off.” She says, taking the cap off the bottle. 

“Oh,” I chuckle. I knew it was a twist top, again, I just needed an excuse to get her away. “Whoopsies?” 

She puts the bottle opener back in the drawer and leans against the counter. “You having fun?”

I shrug, “I’m alright. So um… Noah’s here.”

Y/n nods slowly, “Yeah, he is.”

“Kinda weird that he showed up after we just talked about him,” I mutter.

“Yeah, I guess. He just tagged along with one of his friends.”

I nod, “Mhm. You two looked pretty cozy.”

“Excuse me?” 

“Nothing. Just, I mean, I haven’t heard you talk about him since the breakup,” I take a sip of the beer in my hand. “I didn’t realize you two were still so close.”

She tilts her head at me, “We’re not. We were just catching up. He didn’t know that I lived here too.”

“Uh-huh, so you haven’t talked to him recently?”

She scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest. “What’s with the third degree, huh?”

“You didn’t answer my question,” I mutter.

“No, Connor. I haven’t talked to him recently. In fact, I haven’t talked to him since the breakup. But what does that matter? Why does it matter who I do and do not talk to?”

“I just think it’s a little strange that he came here tonight.”

“Well, I didn’t invite him, if that’s what you’re insinuating. He came with a friend. He didn’t even know it was our party, or our house. He just showed up.”

“So he crashed it. Classy.”

“What is your deal?” She pushes herself off the counter and stands face to face with me, her forehead creasing as she glares at me. I want to smooth the crease and tell her not to do that because she’ll get a headache, but I refrain. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Please,” she scoffs, “you’re acting like a jealous boyfriend! Newsflash, Connor, you’re not my boyfriend.”

I recoil, because sure I know I’m not, but the words spew from her lips like venom. “I know that.”

“Do you? Because right now it doesn’t seem like you do. Now unless I completely missed the part where you asked me to be your girlfriend, you have no right to be upset over me talking to my ex-boyfriend.”

“He was an ass to you then.”

“How would you know?! We weren’t even talking then.”

“Because you didn’t want to! I was still trying to fix things with us but you were pushing me away.”

“No, I wasn’t pushing you away. I was protecting myself from getting hurt again.”

“But it wasn’t me, that was Kenzie, and -”

She groans in frustration, “Why are we talking about her again? Why? I can’t do this.”

“Do what?”

Y/n pinches the bridge of her nose. “Look, you’re my best friend, and I love you. But you have no right to be upset about Noah. You are not my boyfriend -”

“Why do you keep saying that?”

“Because you aren’t! You like to act like you are sometimes, but you’re not.”

“Do you want me to be?!” I exclaim, setting my bottle down.

She scoffs, shaking her head. “Not like this,” she says quietly, pushing past me.

“Y/n!” I call after her, but she ignores me. I, however, can’t ignore the eyes that are on me.

---

“He’s jealous?” Alessia asks, leaning back on her hands. We’re sitting on the grass in the backyard. It’s quieter out here, and far less crowded. “Does he even have a right to be?”

“That’s what I’m saying! He’s my best friend, but sometimes he acts like he’s my boyfriend and I just - I’m over it.”

She sighs, “You’re over him acting like your boyfriend.”

“Yes,” I say.

“Because you want him to actually be your boyfriend.”

“What? No! No,” I shake my head, “that’s not it.”

Les smiles, “Honey, it’s obvious the way you two look at each other. And you can deny it because you’re best friends, you live together. You don’t want to risk the integrity of the friendship that you have. And that is totally reasonable, but you two need to discuss what you are to each other. Because it’s clear that in his mind, you’re a little bit more than just ‘best friends.’ And well, you’ve always wanted to be more, so what’s so wrong with him being that?”

I sigh and pick at the grass beside me, “I don’t know if he feels this way genuinely or if it’s because I’m closer now. We live together, it seems almost easy or convenient for him to develop some tiny crush because of the proximity.”

At this she laughs, “Oh, honey. That is definitely not it.”

“How do you know?”

“Because that boy has been in love with you since before I even met you guys. It’s written all over his face and if you took a second to just stop and -”

“Hey, sorry to interrupt, guys,” Shawn says, breathlessly, pushing his curls out of his face. “Y/n, Connor’s drunk off his ass, and I need your help”

I sit up, “Okay, How much did he drink?”

“Like, the entire bottle of tequila I had in my room, plus however many beers he had.”

I stand up, swatting at the backs of my legs to get off any dirt, “Is he throwing up?”

“No, he’s just asking for you.”

I nod and look back to Alessia, “We’ll talk later, Les?”

“Mhm, go take care of your boy.”

“Why did he drink so much?” I ask Shawn, following him toward the sliding glass door. 

He shrugs, “I asked him. He said you were mad at him.”

I roll my eyes, “Well yeah, he was being an ass. But it still doesn’t make sense.If he drinks every time I get upset with him, he’d be an alcoholic ”

“All I know is that he was asking for you,” Shawn says just as we find Connor sitting outside my bedroom door, nursing another beer bottle. 

I shake my head, “God, he knows not to be switching between alcohol.”

“Connor, buddy?” Shawn says, squatting down next to him. “I got her. Why don’t you give me that beer, eh?” He goes to take it from his hands, but Connor’s quick to move it, spilling a bit of it on his shirt in the process.

“No, this is mine. Get your own,” he slurs

I sigh and squat down next to him, too. “I think you’ve had enough, bub. Come on, let me have it.”

He looks at me with heavy eyes and he pouts, dramatically. “Y/n… you’re so pretty.”

“Connor,” I shake my head. 

“I love you in red. God, you look so good. Could never get,” he hiccups, “tired of looking at you.”

I blush, looking over at Shawn who’s still sitting with us. “Okay, come on. Let’s get up. We need to get you to bed.”

He nods slowly, “Whatever you want, baby.”

I take the drink out of his hand and set on the floor beside us. “Shawn, help me get him up.”

Shawn nods, “You got it.” He does most of the heavy lifting, but when Connor’s on his feet, he leans into me, hugging my waist, burying his head in my neck. 

“I’m so sorry, y/n. So sorry.”

“I know, come on now. We’re going to your room.”

He groans into my skin, but helps me and Shawn take him to his room as best as he can, only stumbling once when we round the corner. We push his bedroom door open and walk further into the room, plopping him down on the bed. 

“Thanks, Shawn. I got it from here.”

“You sure?” 

I nod, moving to grab his trash can from next to his desk. “Yeah, we’re good. Thanks for coming to get me.”

He nods, “Of course. Come get me if you need anything else.”

Connor groans as Shawn slams the door shut behind him. I sigh and move around the room, turning on his bedside lamp and going to his desk chair where his outfit from earlier is laid out. “Okay, bub, I’m gonna need you to help me out, alright? I need you to get out of your clothes, I’m gonna put you in pajamas, okay?”

He shakes his head, his pout even heavier than usual, eyes struggling to stay open. “Too tired. You do it.”

I close my eyes, taking in a deep breath. Of course he’s gonna be difficult right now. I shake my head, throwing his clothes beside him, “Can you stand up?”

He mumbles something incoherent, but I’m pretty sure it’s somewhere along the lines of “The room is spinning.”

“Fuck, Connor, why did you drink so much?” I grumble, moving to the floor to take his shoes off.

“You’re mad at me,” he whines.

“Yes, I am. You know your limits. What were you gonna do if this didn’t happen at the house, hmm?”

“M’sorry.”

I roll my eyes, “Okay, sit up,” I reach for his hands to help pull him to a sitting position. 

He makes an unnecessary amount of groaning sounds as he moves around to accommodate me.

I push his shirt off his shoulders, it’s almost damp, he’s sweating so much. I throw it to the side, I’ll put it in the laundry room when I go get him some pain meds in a little bit. I take hold of the hem of his tank top, “Arms up,” I pat his side and he obliges, looking up at me with a sad smile on his lips. “What’s wrong?” I ask him, tossing his tank top off to the side too.

“I’m sorry I got mad earlier. About Noah.”

I shake my head, “It’s fine. Lay back, lift your hips for me.”

He lays back, but his pout still remains on his face as I lean forward to unbutton his pants.

“What now?” I question softly, pulling down his zipper, “Hips up.”

He’s looking at me with such sad eyes and it’s killing me. “This isn’t how I wanted you to undress me for the first time.”

My breath hitches, “What?”

“Wanna make love to you,” he slurs. 

I almost choke on his words, “Connor, you’re drunk,” I shake my head, pulling his pants off him and grabbing his sweats to pull up his legs instead. I decide to forgo the shirt because he’s already sweating a lot, I don't want to make him even hotter. “You don’t know what you’re saying. I’m gonna go get you some water and pain meds. Stay here.” I move the trash can closer to him, “The trash is right next to you if you feel like you’re gonna get sick.

I pick up his discarded clothes from the floor and walk to the door and out the room before he can say anything else he doesn’t mean. After tossing them in the hamper in the laundry room, I squeeze past the group of people still congregating in the hallway. I slip into my room and grab some of my pain meds from my book bag and quickly slip out again to head to the kitchen which is also crowded. I mumble out a general excuse me, and go to the fridge to grab Connor a bottle of water. 

On my way back, I stop and go to his bathroom which is thankfully empty, and grab a hand towel and wet it under the faucet to hopefully cool him down a bit. When I’m back in his room, he’s laying face down on his bed and I stop for a minute, admiring his smooth skin, and the way the muscles in his shoulders tense up when he moves his arm above his head. It’s not fair. No one man should look this good. 

I shake my head, focusing back on the task at hand. I close the door behind me gently. “Okay, Connor. I need you to sit up just one more time to take these pills and then you can go to bed, yeah?”

He groans, “I think I drank too much, baby,” he mumbles, pushing himself up and I'm once again in awe of how his muscles move with him. 

I scratch at my scalp and nod, holding out the pills for him. “Yeah, I think you did, too.” He takes them in his hand and I sit next to him, uncapping the water bottle before handing it to him as well.

“Thank you,” he hiccups.

“You’re welcome.” I look down at my hands as he takes the pills. He goes to hand me the water bottle back but I shake my head, “You need to drink it all. We’re trying to avoid a hangover.”

He just holds the bottle in his lap, not moving to drink anymore of it, so I look back up at him only to find him already staring at me. 

“You okay?” I ask.

He hums and reaches forward. He runs his thumb under my eye, “You got an eyelash. I got it,” he mumbles, but he keeps his hand cradling the side of my face. 

My eyes search his tired ones, they’re glossed over, but they always get that way when he drinks, making his eyes seem just a little more blue than green. 

“Have I told you tonight that you look pretty?” he asks quietly. 

“Multiple times,” I confirm. 

“Good, because you are… so, so pretty.”

I lick my lips and watch his eyes move from my eyes to my lips and back. I take in a shallow breath as he starts to lean closer. His eyes closed as his face inches toward mine. I push him back gently just before his lips have the chance to connect with mine, and I mean just before because I could feel his breath against my mouth. “What are you doing?” I question.

“I was… I was trying to kiss you. Did you, I thought you wanted to - when we were laying in bed a couple weeks ago, you said you wanted me to kiss you.”

“Well, I… Connor,” I shake my head. I didn’t think he heard me when I said that. “Not like this. Not tonight. Not when you’re drunk and not thinking clearly.” I stand up, pacing slowly in front of him. “If you’re gonna kiss me, I want you to be sober, and to actually want to do it. Not just because we got in a fight earlier. I don’t want this to be something you do now and then completely forget about or ignore, or fuck, even worse, regret in the morning. I don’t want that. I don’t deserve that. I don’t deserve to be led on by you again.”

“Again?” He asks, tilting his head at me. 

“Nevermind. I should go back out there, start cleaning up so it’s not so much tomorrow.”

“Wait, y/n, please. Stay here, please. Stay with me tonight.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I won’t try anything, I promise. Please, just stay?”

I sigh, “Just until you fall asleep.”

---

It’s nearing eleven in the morning when Shawn finally retreats from his room. He’s not nearly as hungover as I bet the other boys are going to be. If he’s even hungover at all, he doesn’t seem to be. 

He leans against the counter, watching me pull my second batch of cookies from the oven. “You’re stress baking,” he observes.

I scoff, “I made muffins too,” I nod in the direction of the counter in front of him where a plate of blueberry muffins sits. 

“Ooh,” he reaches forward and takes one, “Not that I like when you’re stressed, but this my favorite of your coping mechanisms.”

“For purely selfish, I presume.”

“Of course,” he says around a mouthful of muffin. “So,” he says after he swallows. “Does this sudden urge to bake have anything to do with what happened last night with Connor?”

I tense up at the memory of Connor leaning in to kiss me. Me pushing him away. “Maybe.”

“So what did happen after I left you two?”

“Nothing,” I shake my head.

“Well, the glorious smell of our kitchen and the spotless living room say otherwise.”

I close my eyes and rub my hands over my face. “He, god, he tried to kiss me.”

“What?” Shawn chokes. 

“Shh! You’ll wake them.”

“Oh please, Brain will be asleep until five. Nothing will wake him. He kissed you?! Well, how was it?”

“I said he tried. As in, I didn’t let him. I pushed him away before he could.”

“Why? Don’t you want him to?”

“Of course! But not like that! Not when he’s drunk and not himself. WHen he’s saying stupid things like he wants to make love to me, and that he wishes I was undressing him for the first time under different circumstances.”

“What? He said all of that?! Oh my god! Go, Connor!”

“No, not go Connor. Because he’s not going to remember any of this when he wakes up and I’m going to remember everything and have to pretend that he didn’t say anything or try to kiss me. And I’m stuck being led on once again, except this time he lives just down the hall and I have to see him everyday.”

Shawn sighs, “Okay, you’re right. So, what are you going to do?”

“Same thing I always do.”

He nods, “I’ll get my guitar.”

***

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[littleoddwriter]

Hello, can you please write me an poly!asa emory x reader x jesse cromeans with an S/O that walks with crutches because he/they broke his/ their foot?

I did that and I need some emotional support lol I am falling apart 😩😩

Asa Emory/The Collector x GenderNeutral!Reader (w/ a Broken Foot) x Jesse Cromeans/Chromeskull | Headcanons

Hi there! I'm so sorry you broke your foot. I hope it heals up all right and doesn't cause you too much pain and trouble. :/ <3 Hope Headcanons are fine with you and you like them and find some comfort in them for the time being. :) Take care! <3 [Most of these Headcanons are pulled from the time I broke my ankle and ripped & strained some ligaments there. ]

notes; GenderNeutral!Reader; Broken Foot; Crutches; Being Taken Care Of.

Reblogs > Likes. Thank you!

Asa Emory/The Collector & Jesse Cromeans/Chromeskull (Poly)

They’re both very patient with you; walking with crutches is hard and they know it, so they walk slowly alongside you, assuring you that you’re not too slow for them and doing really great, actually

In the beginning, they even help you with learning how to properly walk with crutches anyway, since it takes you some time to get used to it and not fall over (they both catch you every time you so much as lose your balance)

Sometimes, they’ll also just carry you; they’re both strong enough to do it and they’re actually very happy to just lift you up and carry you around for a bit – Jesse especially

When neither of them can be home, they make sure that food, drinks and other necessities are in hand’s reach for you, so that you only really need to get up and walk around to use the bathroom, etc. – that way you’re less likely to get hurt while they’re not around

Jesse often sends you text messages to check in with you and he always wants you to send pictures, so he can determine that you’re also not lying when you say you’re doing fine and staying mostly in place

Asa on the other hand just looks at the security footage of that camera he’s installed without telling either you or Jesse, because he doesn’t trust your words or pictures like Jesse does

Whenever they are both free, they choose activities for all three of you to do that don’t require you to walk much, if at all, so that you can have fun and not worry about your foot or get self-conscious about being too slow and clumsy-looking

They take care of washing/bathing you regularly, making sure your cast doesn't get wet as they pamper you - Jesse secretly enjoys this a lot, he just likes taking care of you in any way he can

One of them always comes with you to your doctor’s appointments – on the final one, both of them are there and celebrate with you when the cast is finally off and you’re mostly free to walk around, again (albeit more cautiously, perhaps)

[cowboy-turtle]

Revelation

Part 4 of the La Parca series

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!Reader

Words: 4.9k

Tags: ANGST! reader and Javi both being incredibly dumb; fluff; food mention; allusions to sex (in a dream) and masturbation; overall just friend things 🤪

A/N: Happy Emmys Sunday loves! I hope you enjoy this next installment and I'm sorry in advance 😬Songs that go with this part are "Do I Wanna Know" by the Arctic Monkeys and "I Don't Want to Know" by Fleetwood Mac. Category is: indecisiveness!

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You could be just friends with Javier. You had to.

At least, that’s what you told yourself a month ago.

July had slid into August without much fanfare, save for the sun getting inexplicably hotter with every passing cycle. You’d thought it’d get easier, each new day stretching the distance since you’d been with him last, the pillow next to yours slowly losing the scent of him, your floor bare from his clothes scattered about in haste. You’ve gotten over lovers in the past, so you know you have it in you to do it again. Besides, Javier had never actually been your boyfriend. There was no relationship to mourn over.

You’d like to blame that as the problem, then, for why you just can’t seem to get over him. You’d been caught in the in-between, dangling on the what if, just barely tasting the potential of it all, that you’re still trapped in the current of what could have been. Of what never was.

The dreams certainly don’t help your cause, either. There’s something to be said about a hot room affecting them, the vividly cloying realness waking you up in a panting shock, lonesome heart hammering against your clammy sheets. The red digits of your bedside clock mark an ungodly hour in the dark of your room, but you know you won’t be able to fall back asleep anytime soon.

You think your brain is tricking you into believing the sweat that trickled down your neck was his tongue instead, tracing a path it knew so well to your collarbones as his deft hands slid underneath the straps of your sleeping camisole. You groan, disgraced fingers pushing underneath the hem of your underwear to where you’re soaked from more than perspiration. You want to mould yourself back into how you’d been in your dream, sighing out the source of your nightly fantasies. You wish saying his name three times would conjure him up here, doing all the things you’re imagining him to be doing to you now. But when all is said and done, it’s still only you shaking through the last ripples of pleasure alone in your bed.

No, the dreams certainly don’t help. Not when you have to face him the next morning, putting on a friendly smile to make him none the wiser. Javier almost seems keyed into it, though, a sixth sense that you aren’t sure was always there or if you’re only noticing it now as it plagues you with his attention to detail. He waits for you across the street like always, opening the car door for you to slide into the passenger seat, a quick once-over glance to make sure you’re good before he closes it behind you. You try to ignore how his eyes scanning you cause a fevered rush through your body. His hand hovers at the small of your back as you walk together, the heat radiating from his phantom touch shivering up your spine. It makes you sit up straighter at the table, aching to get closer as you lean onto your elbows towards him.

You’re seated at the back of the bakery, tucked into a shadowy corner booth at your insistence. Your knees bump against his, his hand smoothing across your thigh to still the nervous tick of your bouncing leg while you lean towards him to whisper about the men who’ve come to visit your friends this week. You want to ensure you’re not seen, even if the small shop is vacant except for the two workers busy in the back of the store. You can tell he’s slightly entertained by your unnecessary precautions, but he humors you anyway as you slide your waxed paper confection towards him.

“Try a bite.”

He addresses you with a quick look, a small shake of his head as he takes a sip from his steaming paper cup of black coffee. You give him a teasing smile.

“How many roscones are you going to buy for me until you try one?” You nudge closer to him, hoping to entice him towards it. Today’s filling is whipped cream, a heaping mound delicately placed between the two rings of sweet bread. “C’mon, this one’s my favorite.”

He doesn’t move any nearer though, amusement glimmering in his dark eyes as the lone dimple of his right cheek threatens to emerge. You bat your eyelashes, feigning dramatics.

“Please?” you attempt again. “For me?”

Something almost undetectable flashes across his face as he removes his hand from your leg. Your heart sinks, realizing you may have gone too far. You open your mouth to apologize, for what you’re not exactly sure, but then he’s only using this free hand to pick up your baked offering. He gives you another resigned frown before he sinks his teeth down to take a bite, his eyes closing as he chews. You appreciate the look of enjoyment that softens his features for a moment before you let out a small noise you weren’t quick enough to contain. Edges of whipped cream have caught on the corner of his mustache, and you can’t help but laugh at the image before you. Such a serious man with a bit of cream on his trimmed stache looks back at you, his lower lip pouting as you try to cover your smile.

“What is it?” he asks, eyes squinted in mock indignation.

You lean to wipe off the offending blotch for him, presenting your finger to show Javi the source of your laughter. You move to clean up when Javier reaches for you instead. He catches your wrist, keeping you hovering in the half-distance as he maintains eye contact. The searing touch of his hand stills you before he slowly draws your finger back towards him. His lips part to wrap around the digit, and you quiet a gasp as you feel his tongue slide against your skin. You wonder for a brief second if he can tell where that finger was just hours ago, and the thought makes you burn in your seat. He sucks the cream off, pulling your finger out of his mouth with a small pop as his eyes smolder into yours. You watch him intently, the early morning emptiness inside of the cafe suddenly feeling suffocating. And you liked it.

The twinkle of the bell above the entrance marking a new customer reminds you to breathe in a shaky inhale.

“We should get going,” Javi finally says, dropping your hand as he casually checks the watch on his other wrist. He slides out of the booth first, waiting for you to join him on unsteady legs. Suddenly you weren’t hungry anymore, your pastry forgotten on the table with a singular bite taken out of it.

You resolve not to tell the girls about this the next time you see them, gathering at Carmen’s apartment for the season premiere of your favorite telenovela. The drama unfolds onscreen to the gasps and whispers of your friends who laugh together during the commercial breaks, but each swell of music before a new revelation does little to hold your attention. You don’t even notice you’ve been unusually quiet until Carmen comes to lie across your lap, poking your cheek for attention while Vanessa disappears into the bathroom.

“You’d tell me if you guys were fucking again, right?”

“What?” The flash of panic that startles in your eyes has her perking up with interest, but you quickly shake your head. “No, no I…” you pause for a regrouping breath, “we’re still just friends, okay?”

She pouts back down with a sigh, reaching to play absentmindedly with the hem of your shirt before looking back at you with a mischievous grin. “But how’d you know who I was asking about?”

You roll your eyes. “You only ever ask about one guy, Carmen.”

“Well yeah,” she huffs at you like it’s obvious, “because it’s clear how bad you still want to jump his bones. Whenever Vanessa brings up his name are the only times you look like you’re listening to her.”

“Yeah, well...Vanessa talks a lot,” you try to argue but Carmen’s glance tells you she’s not buying it. Your head falls against the back cushion of her couch while you let out an irritated groan, closing your eyes.

“Okay. He made a promise he’d stop going to brothels, and maybe I just want to make sure he’s even following through with it.”

“Have you considered, mmm, I don’t know, asking him?” You loll your head back down to glare at Carmen.

“Asking him what?” Vanessa returns to her spot on the couch, leaning across you both to grab a handful of popcorn.

“She thinks Javier is still going to brothels, which,” Carmen looks back up at you, “why does that matter to you anyway?”

You shift in your seat. “It’s for...the other girls, to keep them safe.”

Vanessa and Carmen exchange a look. “Right,” Carmen coughs and you bounce your leg to jostle her slightly.

“Well he hasn’t been coming to mine,” Vanessa offers, shrugging.

“Or mine,” Carmen adds. You have to look away from her, hoping she didn’t catch the flicker in your eyes at what this might mean. Sure, he was only listening to what you asked of him (which in and of itself sparked something inside you, that he would do this for you), but surely there was no harm in letting a small part of yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, he was doing it for a bigger reason.

Carmen shimmies in your lap. “So, I’ll be the first one to know when you sleep with him again, right?”

You’re saved by the familiar theme music of the show returning. “Sorry, commercial break’s over,” you murmur to her as you avert your eyes back up to the television set.

Carmen snorts. “Oh please, you haven’t been paying attention this whole time. Your favorite character came back from the dead and you didn’t even notice.”

“What?!”

Vanessa shushes you both, waving a hand in your direction with her eyes glued to the screen. You fake deeply vested interest in the program to avoid Carmen’s lingering gaze on you until she gives up, rolling off your lap to sit back up for the show.

You have to miss the release of the next episode due to a deadline, elbows digging into the corners of the textbook you’re hunched over when the trill of your telephone draws you off the page. You rise up from your seated position on the floor in front of the coffee table, joints cracking from their inactivity of the past hours as you shuffle into the kitchen.

“Hello?”

“Cariño.”

“Javi,” you want it to come out like a warning but you can’t hide the warmth that invades your voice, pressing the phone into your shoulder as you lean into the archway. “Don’t call me that.”

“Sorry,” his voice sounding anything but apologetic as he chuckles. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“No,” you try to sound casual, twirling your finger in the curlicues of the telephone cord. “What do you need?”

“I’m actually calling,” he sighs, “because I can’t pick you up tomorrow morning. I’ve got a work thing.”

Disappointment slumps into your chest, burrowing against your heart.

“I’m sorry,” he adds on quickly, “promise I’ll make it up to you.”

You snap out of it, willing nonchalance back into your voice as you distract yourself by scanning the contents of your fridge. “Yeah, no, it’s okay. I can just take the bus again.”

There’s a pause on the other end that has your hand stilling against a carton of orange juice in expectation.

“Is everything okay?” he eventually asks.

You stiffen, once again caught off guard by how perceptive this man could be. “Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know,” he shifts the phone to his other side, growing more attentive. “You just sound...different.”

Well, Javi, you close your eyes, gripping the phone, every time I see you I want to kiss you but it’s my own damn fault I can’t and I don’t know how to tell you that.

“It’s nothing,” you settle on the empty words, closing your fridge a little too hard. “I’m just...distracted. It’s been a stressful week and I’m too tired to cook and—”

You stop yourself, your throat tightening in sudden guilt. Here you were complaining from the comfort of your kitchen while Javier was still at work for however much longer, the auditory flurry of busy phones and frenetic footsteps and hushed commands an indication it wouldn’t be anytime soon.

“Sorry,” you begin, your voice thick with atonement. “I—”

“Will you be free in an hour?” he interrupts, and you can hear papers shifting and a drawer opening in the background. “I mean, if you want company right now.”

“I…” you shift your weight to one hip, lips forming into a smile of their own accord. “Yeah, I think so?”

“Good. You hungry?”

And that’s how he arrives at your door as the last of the sunlight dies behind your windowsill. He carries a large brown paper bag he deposits on your dining table, reaching in to unload cartons of takeout.

“Javi,” you laugh, “are we feeding an army?”

He stops for a moment, inspecting the spread he’s assembled. “Well, now you’ll have leftovers.” He looks at you, a smile playing in his eyes, and you hide your responding grin by going into the kitchen to retrieve plates.

The coffee table is cleared of your piles of paperwork as you settle into the couch, Javier’s leather jacket folded over one of the armrests. You turn to him as he props his feet up, plate balancing in his lap.

“Do you watch television?”

The staticky screen of your old set flickers alive to the second half of your show, the puzzle pieces of half-missing plot somewhat hard to assemble as you chew silently together. You’re invested in the payout of last week’s reveal of a long-lost sibling when you feel his eyes on you.

You turn to address him and almost regret it, the darkness of his eyes simmering into yours. They’re full of such a deep want you’re afraid you’ll fall in if you weren’t careful. You feel suspended in this moment, like your next move is going to be just as important as the character’s decision onscreen. You can barely hear their dialogue over the sound of your heart hammering in your ears.

“What?” you finally breathe out, waiting for him. Wanting him to read the way your eyes dart between his in response, begging him to end your misery. The air is heavy with unspoken words as you will him to close the distance between you, to make you flush from his usual quips whispered into your ear.

You regard each other for a moment. Then another. Then it’s like he remembers himself, head shaking before he looks away.

“It’s nothing.”

You want so badly to set your plate down, to reach for him. It’s not nothing. Instead you squeeze and flex your fingers resting at your side, like you can shake off the palpable desire beating in your veins. Your mind had tricked you into slowing down these seconds and now you push it to work at a normal pace again, grasping at straws to find a neutral subject.

“F-Freckles says hi.” You wince at the crack in your voice that stumbles on her alias. Javier lets out a chuckle of disbelief.

“Hello Freckles.”

“She hasn’t seen you around lately?”

His eyes dart back to you for a second, clearly seeing through your shammy ruse. “Why would she?”

You shrug, turning back to the television screen. “Business is business.”

“I’m sure she has more than enough clients. Besides,” he leans towards you, face tilted until you’re forced to address him again, “the same intel she would’ve told me is what you already have for me, right?”

You blink. “Right.”

“Then why would I go?”

You smooth your clammy palms against your legs in an attempt to calm yourself. “Why do people normally go to brothels, Javi?”

He heaves a silent sigh, shifting away from you to place his plate on the coffee table. “You asked me to stop going,” his voice is soft now, eyes downcast towards the table. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

“Yeah.”

“Then that’s what I’m doing.”

You wait for him to continue, to offer up some sort of explanation further than just his commitment to following your request. To jokingly guilt you for taking something away from him without offering anything in return.

But he remains silent instead. He crosses his arms, settling his back into your sofa as his foot bumps against yours while he readjusts to look at the television again. And that’s when a new thought materializes. He wasn’t expecting anything more from you. No advances, no innuendos, he was simply there just to see you. He’d chosen to be here for the sole purpose of enjoying your company, even if the circumstances have changed.

You swallow around a lump of sudden emotion. “Thank you.”

He glances over to you. “For what?”

You reach for his hand but falter, detouring at the last second to grab another napkin from the pile between you. You don’t know how to put it into words, so you shake your head.

“It’s nothing.”

You have no recollection of how the episode ends, the next program starting immediately after as conflicting thoughts stew in your brain. You’re barely paying attention to your surroundings until you hear a soft grunt next to you, Javier’s leg twitching unconsciously. You look over to find him fast asleep, arms still crossed over his chest like he’s shielding himself in this vulnerable state.

You take this chance to let yourself blatantly survey his face. The dark fringe of his lashes dusting the top of his pronounced cheekbones, lips pursed slightly in a deep exhale. You’ve never seen him so peaceful, so content, but then his eyebrow trembles slightly, caught up in a dream and you think oh, no, you would do anything to smooth the worry line that disappears after he resettles.

You slide off the couch slowly to collect your plates, tiptoeing to the kitchen sink that you lean against to contemplate your next move. He’s never slept over before, but you’d be remiss to wake him now. Surely he must be exhausted, and if you could offer him anything it’d be a good night’s rest.

You slip back into the living room, trying to keep your steps light as a feather. You pull a shabby excuse of a blanket off the back of the couch and place it gingerly across his shoulders, smoothing it down him as you kneel in front of the couch. You reach with nimble fingers to begin untying the laces of his boots propped up on your coffee table, shimmying one off when he stirs. You stop, frozen. You draw your eyes up the length of his body until you meet his drowsy, half-opened ones looking back at you.

You stare at him for what feels like an eternity, a deer caught in his headlights.

“What are you doing?” his voice is thick with sleep before he clears his throat.

You slowly retreat your hands back into your lap. “I was just...taking off your shoes.”

His brow quirks in question and you fumble over your words to continue. “You fell asleep and, and I didn’t want to disturb you. But I just...wanted to make sure you were comfortable.”

You wait for his answer, squeezing one hand into the other. But he just stares at you and you’ve never seen his eyes so...soft. So round and so dark, shining at you in the dim flicker of your television set.

“I hope that’s okay,” you tack on belatedly, anything to fill the silence between you. Gradually, Javier slides his feet off their perch, sitting up from the couch as his face comes towards yours. You suck in a breath, stilling yourself as his eyes never leave yours.

Then, he looks away. “I should get going.”

Your heart has never deflated this quickly as he stands, shifting the blanket onto the next cushion and offering a hand to help you up. You purse your lips in worry.

“It’s late, you don’t have to.”

He shakes his head, dropping your hand the second you’re upright. “I don’t want to overextend my welcome.”

“You wouldn’t be.” You reach for him but he’s already walking towards the front door.

“Well, I’ve got an early morning tomorrow.”

“Javi—”

“Please.” He turns then to look at you, eyes battling something just underneath. His hand grips the doorknob a little too tightly. “Let’s just say goodnight.”

His tone offers no room for rebuttal, so you simply nod in defeat and walk towards him. He’s quiet as he opens the door once you reach the entryway, turning back to you when he’s safely in the hallway. You feel like you’ve overstepped the boundaries of your friendship by the way his face is unreadable as he looks at you.

“I’m sorry.”

You watch him soften as he registers your words, the sadness in your eyes slowly coloring his. He reaches for you then, pulling you across the doorway as his arms wrap around you.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he murmurs into your hair as you settle into his chest. You lean into him, hugging around his torso with a squeeze.

You can’t help it, not with him being this close to you. You inhale deeply and bask in the warmth of his skin you’ve missed, the musky scent of his cologne embedded in the curve of his neck. You ache to get closer, your face rubbing into him until your lips accidentally brush against his skin.

You feel more than hear his breath hitch, his body becoming rigid underneath you. You freeze there for what feels like a minute, heart racing as you wonder what he’s going to do next.

You feel his lips on your forehead, and then you’re being drawn away from him.

“Goodnight, cariñ—” Javier stops, closing his eyes, looking as if he’s trying to compose himself.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, a half-hearted smile forming tightly on his lips to smooth over his mistake. “Old habits.”

“It’s okay.” Your voice falters in the rush to get your words out, but he still moves away from you, hands dropping off your shoulders once you’re at arm's length.

“I’ll...I’ll see you later.” Javier looks at you then, giving you a single nod. His name plays on the tip of your tongue, but you find yourself only able to nod back. He turns before you have a moment to reconsider, walking down your hallway with head hung low in deep thought. You’re not sure how long you stand there in your doorway, a dull, empty pang in your chest, until you hear the applause of a late night talk show’s audience filter out from your television to mark the hour.

You shuffle back into your empty apartment, the small room suddenly feeling too large by yourself. You go to turn off the television when you notice dark leather still strewn on your couch. Your arm extends to grab it before you’re processing your actions, fingers sliding against the leather as you pull Javier’s jacket to your chest. You look around like the ghost of him has already come back for it, ear perked in waiting for a knock at the door.

And what if he does come back? What if you still see the depth of sadness pooling in his eyes? How would you be able to see him again like that without holding his face, bringing it towards yours as you finally let go?

You sink back into the couch with his jacket cradled in your arms. It wouldn’t hurt to stay up a bit longer, just in the off chance he’ll come to retrieve it. You bring the collar up to your face, inhaling the scent of him deeply, all spice and smoke and the singular scent that is him has you melting into the cushions. If he comes back for this, who’s to say you weren’t going to softly brush your lips against his the way you’re doing now against the leather. Yes, if he came back, it’d be a sign. And you weren’t going to stop yourself if it happened.

So you wait, wondering where he might be. You consider getting up to call him but dialing him at this hour, after the way you left things off, would certainly come across a touch desperate.

And so you keep waiting. Where is he, you wonder. Hopefully sound asleep, not wondering where his jacket could be while you held onto it like a life preserver, dreary eyes struggling to stay awake a little while longer.

And so you think you’re still waiting, but you startle when you start to tip over, unaware you’d begun to doze off. You don’t have to check the clock to know how close to dawn you are now, trudging into your bedroom with his jacket in tow.

You stop in front of your mirror, contemplating for a second as the jacket unfolds in your hands before you’re sliding your arms into the sleeves. You hope to feel a shadow of his warmth as you hug it closer to yourself, but it only brings back unwelcome memories of the promises you gave the last time you wore it.

You like it on me?

You shiver and pull the jacket off, hoping the bitter taste in your mouth leaves with it. You let it crumple into a heap at the corner of your bedroom, but it’s still within eyesight later as you toss and turn in bed. You sigh, resigned, lonely fingers reaching to pull it into bed with you. You shove your hand into a pocket and take out the pack of cigarettes pressed into your side, sticking it next to the cleaned out ashtray now collecting dust on your nightstand.

You’ll give the jacket to him the next time you see him, you resolve, eyes closing as you hug it closer to you, curling into it, wishing it was occupied now with its owner. He just doesn’t need to know what happened in the interim.

When you dream that night, it’s not your regular ones about him that have you waking up in a sweat. No, this time it’s only of his eyes. His eyes looking at you before he’s turning away from your door. And no matter how many times you call his name, he doesn’t turn back.

As you wake in the early dawn of the next morning, the fleeting remnants of your dream have you stretching out your hand in search of him. When your fingers come in contact with the cool zipper of his jacket instead, realization cracks through you. That’s right. That part hadn’t been another one of your dreams. And that’s when your resolve finally breaks.

Fuck. This. You sit up, stomach twisting into itself. What were you doing? Why were you doing it? You’d been so afraid of getting in too deep, of getting hurt, that you were only making it harder on yourself in the end. You were sick of playing this fucked up game with yourself, even if you were the one who made the rules. You only allowed yourself to get close, but not too close, so you wouldn’t get hurt. But what could be worse than this intolerably empty ache that’s taken up residence in your chest? You’d kept yourself on this diving board for too long, knowing you wanted to jump but too scared to do it. It was now or never.

You don’t even register you’re pacing your room until you catch your reflection, eyes wild from this revelation. It’s then that you fully realize. You were inexplicably, unfathomably, royally fucked. Regardless of the outcome, regardless of how he was going to react, you had to tell him.

But you knew who you had to talk to first. You slip the jacket back onto your shoulders, already imagining Carmen’s face when she sees you wearing it. She always gave the best advice, though, so she’ll know what to do, what to say.

Because you know if you faced him right now, you’d just pull him into a kiss without a second thought. The idea of doing this so shamelessly has you almost laughing as you hurry down the street, imagining his reaction. You’ve never felt this light before, like you’ve shed off all the weight of your poor choices until you’re left with a singular answer. Javier.

You’re bounding up the steps to the second floor, eyes dancing with such delight that you’re not even annoyed by a public display of affection in the hallway. A couple in a passionate embrace is blocking your path to Carmen’s door, so engrossed they don’t notice you until you clear your throat with an impatient cough. They break apart, his lips still searching hers for a moment before turning to address you.

You meet the eyes of your tall, dark stranger staring back at you, his arms still wrapped around another woman’s waist.

[scandalsavagefanfic]

Hello! I am a huge fan of ur writing. I've loved everything I've read of yours. I've read alot of what you've posted, except for a couple of the tags that are squicky for me (so I'm very thankful you tag very thoroughly). No judgement for the squick, it's just not for me. & when I'm having a bad day, I usually just go thru ur ao3 and find something to reread. I think about Therapy's Bruce & Jason every damn day. While I obvs appreciate ur darker more "problematic" content (I really vibe with some of the themes you write about bc of my own trauma, & so it's very cathartic to read about in a fictional setting), I am truly a sucker for ur more happy content. The Happily Ever After verse also lives in my head rent free. Idk more wholesome stuff just seems more special when you write it. Anyways. I would die for you. But the point of this ask is cause I'm curious as to why you don't like Urban Legends? I'm sorry if you already talked about it here or on twitter and I missed it. I was just wondering because I really enjoy your take on things and would love to hear why you dislike it. I've been enjoying it so far personally, but I am always open to DC comics criticism.

Aw thank you so much! I'm so flattered by everything you just said. You're so sweet ❤❤❤❤❤

I haven't talked about Urban Legends here or twitter (I haven't been very active in either place lately. Just a lot going on and no energy 😔) but I'm happy to do it here.

Before I start though, I just want to add a standard disclaimer and make it clear that if you like it, there's nothing wrong with that and you don't have to let me ruin it for you lol. Like what you like.

That said, since you asked...

I said this when I was talking about it on discord, that there is a difference between hope and expectation. I always hope that a new story centered on Jason (or anyone really, but things have been especially egregious for Jay for 15 years) will be good or at least treat the character with a minimal level of respect (to be honest, the bar is super fucking low). But my expectations always temper my hope, to keep it from getting unrealistic. Because my expectations are based on experience.

The long history of Jason Todd, since even before his resurrection, has been one of retroactively trying to make him "a bad seed" in order to absolve Bruce of any responsibility in his death.

I don't even expect DC or their writers to start honoring the fact that Jason was not an angry, reckless Robin (and less of the later than Dick or Tim and definitely Damian). There plenty of ways that retcon can be folded into his history and be compelling and sympathetic. And if they're going to stick with that retcon, I'm only asking that they do it in one of those compelling and sympathetic ways because Jason was 15 when he died, heroically, in one of the most selfless acts in comics, to save a woman who literally handed him over to be brutally murdered. He was 12 when Bruce plucked him off the streets, he'd been homeless and fending for himself for at least two years. I personally think that Jason's story hits harder for him and Bruce if their original, canon relationship, of Jason as starry-eyed and eager to learn and absolutely devoted to Bruce and Bruce to Jason, is preserved. But Jason's origins does leave room for a meaningful interpretation of him as angry and frustrated at the lack of meaningful results of Bruce's methods.

And that's really where my irritation at stories like Batman: Urban Legends, Cheer and Batman The Adventure Continues has it's roots.

Every time one of these stories comes out, I think (or hope, rather) that this will be the one that remembers and respects the origins of the Jason and the Red Hood, that takes into account the changed sensibilities of comics readers in the 30 years since Jason's death and the subtle, 20 year, retroactive campaign to make him the "bad Robin". The "born bad" trope is played out and literally no one likes the message it implies. That some kids are just bad eggs and there's nothing parents or the adults around them can do. Especially when it's played as the kid's fault. If Jason's time as Robin is going to be characterized by anger, then it should be rooted in anger at the social injustices he witnessed as he grew up in an impoverished, crime-ridden, area and the horrors he faced raising himself when every day was a battle for survival. There are topical, meaningful, stories to tell with that backdrop.

But those are never the stories we get.

⚠⚠ Spoilers for Batman: Urban Legends, Cheer ⚠⚠

I'm particularly disappointed in Urban Legends because for the first issue, it looked like that was the kind of story we were going to get. I was put off by the first flashback of Jason being mesmerized by Bruce's guns, and I got that feeling in my gut that it was a bad sign. Jason depicted as impatient and overconfident and the scene with the guns is heavy-handed foreshadowing that got my spidey-sense tingling. I had a inkling then (in the first three pages) of how this story was going to play out, but it was early and I could still see many narrative paths that could lead to a satisfying story. My concerns were soothed somewhat and the little flame of my hope fanned, with the flashback of Alfred scolding Bruce, with Barbara's concern for Jason. A bit of worry returned with the way Jason ruthlessly pursued an addict who didn't appear to be a dealer and with the ending of the issue. The stuff with the addict sat wrong with me but the ending was tempered some by how despicable Tyler's dad was written. The scene was clearly set so that the reader could sympathize with Jason's decision and the scene with the addict could be brushed aside as a side-effect of comics over-the-top need for constant action, so I still held hope.

Issue 2 made me uncomfortable and it's where my hope starts to take a backseat to my expectations. I can dismiss Jason's self-deprecating internal monologue as unreliable narration, except that the flashback reinforces his thought process to explicitly show that it's not unreliable narration, and should be taken at face value. Jason faces physical abuse at the hands of his mother's drug dealer and when the flashback continues later, Jason kills the drug dealer. To be clear, this is a pre-Bruce Jason. His mom is still alive. He's like... 10. He kills this guy for shoving his head into a wall and implying Jason's mother paid for her drugs with sex. This is a scene that serves a single purpose. To show that Jason has always been prone to violence.

In the spirit of full disclosure, there is the small chance the drug dealer might not be dead. But the story obviously wants the reader to think he is, and it hasn't done anything to change that yet.

Starlin already did this story with The Diplomat’s Son in 1988 and he did it infinitely better. AND that’s still technically canon. So now I’m supposed to believe that Jason lost his cool bad enough to kill two douche bags before his sweet 16? Like it’s totally normal for abused kids raised in poverty, who’ve led hard and heartbreaking lives to just... haul off and kill people? That’s bullshit, and when taken with the Jason in the third issue, who is little more than an idiot thug, this story is really doubling down on some fucked up stereotypes.

Which brings us to the most recent issue. I went into this installment with very low expectations. I thought this story was going to be about Jason, through this experience with Tyler, a young boy with a similar background to Jason's, coming to the realization that Bruce's way is the best way and that Bruce did his best by Jason.

That would be annoying (in no small part because it takes increasingly absurd levels of plot armor to keep Bruce's no kill rule relevant, let alone irrefutably right). But I can probably live with that, if only because maybe if Jason officially falls back into line with the Bats crusade, maybe I'll get stories that treat him with respect, stories that don't relegate him to comic relief, dumb brute, or a background body with no lines in a story about the Joker burning Gotham (like Jason would just fucking stand there quietly for that).

And that may still be where the story is going, Jason realizing Bruce is right.

But holy shit do I not have the right words to describe how fucking insulting and gross issue three is.

From start to finish--including the flashback--Jason is written as cruel and fucking stupid. Like straight up dumb.

The entire issue is Bruce explaining the fucking basics to Jason like it's his first day. And Jason flies off the fucking handle and terrorizes a doctor he knows isn't a part of making the Cheerdrops, beats the shit out of some random addicts, and finally, when he can't accomplish anything on his own because he's a dumb brute he calls Barbara for help and rushes in with no information where he's promptly incapacitated and must now wait to be rescued by Batman.

This panel is the least of the issues sins but I can’t screenshot the entire story but it’s representative of the tone for the whole issue (and retroactively tainted the prior two issues).

This is beyond insulting. The only conclusions Jason comes to in this issue are the ones Bruce leads him to by talking to him like he can’t make the simplest connections. And like... in this story Jason can’t make the simplest connections.

This (and the Jason throughout the entirety of this issue) is a far cry from the Jason we fell in love with in Under the Red Hood, who was competent and strategic and intelligent enough to seize control of Gotham’s underworld from Black Mask (who’s no fucking slouch, he’s the first and only person to unify organized crime in Gotham) AND elude and manipulate Bruce until the time and place of his choosing.

This is a far cry from even the Red Hood and the Outlaws Jason who is competent enough to fight the League of Shadows and Ra’s al Ghul (among very dangerous and skilled others) and smart enough to create antidotes for mind control nanotech viruses.

As he should be, by the way. Jason Todd is one of the best, most comprehensively trained fighters in DC’s stable of non powered vigilantes. He’s not irrational or hot headed. He’s pragmatic, tactically minded, and patient. He’s a detective. Right now. Has been since he was 12. Bruce doesn’t have to make him one because he already is. 

Jason is not a stupid thug who uses his fists because his brain doesn’t work. And I can’t tell you how so very exhausted I am by this narrative. 

This is actually the most egregious example of Jason’s skills and intelligence being not just undermined but dismissed entirely. Even Morrison’s Jason had some degree of competency. 

The one, single redeeming factor of this story is the art. It’s beautiful. And Marcus To is a godsend he seems to be one of only a couple of artists who remember that Jason was a child when he was Robin and I’m literally only buying this book because of him. 

Anyway, I’m sorry. I didn’t want that to come out so... um... passionately lol. I’m just very very tired. My intention with this isn’t to ruin it for you, if you like it, that’s fine. 

But this issue shot this story to the top of my "Vehemently Despise” list. 1) Batman: Urban Legends (Cheer), 2) Battle for the Cowl/Morrison’s Batman and Robin, 3) Batman The Adventure Continues.

I hope the next issues somehow salvage this dumpster fire. But I’m not expecting it.

(Damnit. That sounded harsh again. To reiterate, I’m not trying to judge anyone who enjoys it, I just personally hate it and you asked me why lol 😅)