#because I needed an oil change and the fucking tire couldn’t be repaired

[toadsrbutch]

LMAO the freezer was left just a tiny bit open while we were gone and alllll the frozen stuff spoiled. at this point the series of Unfortunate Events is just fucking funny.

[ms-demeanor]

You know what’s funny is whenever I make a tech post I get people going “this is blatantly untrue” and I get people going “this is really good information and everyone needs to know it” and the dividing line is how much time you spend with people who are tech literate.

Yep, I would tell my computer savvy friends where they could get keycaps and fix their keyboards; I don’t even have to bother telling my computer savvy friends how to run a fifteen year old laptop because we’re all pretty good at it.

But GODDAMN I just read a response to my “cheap computer season” post that claimed that it was totally reasonable to run a macbook from 2010 and

Look.

That’s not a reasonable thing to tell a student who needs a functional computer to do research and write papers. (have fun trying to find installation discs from when the OS was still named after cats and have fun trying to get a browser to get along with that OS)

You know why most people bring me laptops with missing keys? Because the key got ripped off by their two-year-old and damaged the soldering in the keyboard and I have no idea it’s going to be “oh, yeah, that’s a ten dollar fix” or “sorry, that’s going to be an hour and a half to disassemble and reassemble and we’ll have to order you a new keyboard specific to that model out of new old stock” and the thing is the second one is much, much, much more common in my experience than the first.

Do I think you need to replace a laptop when the bezel is cracked? No. I also don’t carry my laptop powered on in the bag with a flashdrive sticking out of the USB port. Customers do weird things that I don’t understand and when a customer tells me they want me to fix the bezel they think it’s a twenty-dollar snap-on repair because they have no idea how this works and then they get mad at me when I explain “no, you’ve gotta have this specific piece of plastic, these haven’t been made in five years, and you might be better off buying a used model online than trying to track down a new bezel.”

So here’s the thing: Can Macs get viruses?

There are three answers here.

“No, of course not, Macs are made to be virus-proof”

“Macs need antivirus protection because, while it is less common than infections for PCs, there are types of malware that can infect macs and it’s worthwhile to guard against that”

“tEcHnIcAlLy a virus has to be self-replicating and IOS’s file management system [or some other bullshit] prevents that so TECHNICALLY Macs can’t get viruses and what you need is anti-malware software if you need anything because you’re fairly likely to have security through obscurity”

I’m aware of the third position and voicing the second position to people who believe the first position.

YES TECHNICALLY YOU CAN KEEP A COMPUTER RUNNING INDEFINITELY AND YES IT’S TOTALLY POSSIBLE YOUR LAPTOP WILL LAST TEN YEARS.

“Well if you treat it right and run it well it’ll be in great shape for a long time”

YES THAT IS CORRECT DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MANY PEOPLE WHO DON’T WORK ON THEIR OWN CARS DRIVE AROUND WITH THE OIL CHANGE LIGHT ON FOR MONTHS?!?

Tons of people in the world today use computers. They use computers every day, they use computers at home and at school and at work.

Tons of people drive every day. They use cars for fun and for commuting and for their jobs.

That doesn’t mean that all (or even most, or even half) of the people using these things is any good at keeping them running, or even has the barest idea of how to start tracking down a problem.

Someone in the notes of that post described a green line on their screen and thought that was a symptom of hard drive problems. I don’t have the hours in the day to catch this person up to speed on why a display issue on a laptop isn’t indicative of hard drive issues.

Do you know how much people think it’s going to cost to get data off of a broken drive? Not “won’t power up” not “won’t spin” but “I dropped this and part fell off and now it won’t power up or spin and also the platter is chipped”? I’m going to have to send that shit to a clean room and the customer is *staggered* that it might cost more than a hundred dollars to get their data. “Outrageous, what kind of blackmail operation are you trying to run here, just plug it in and get my pictures.”

A year or so ago I was at Jiffy Lube (ew). I’d been shooting the shit with the mechanic when a parent and child rolled in in a panic. And they should have been panicking! They’d thrown a fucking rod because they’d been driving with no oil in the car for god knows how long because neither of them had had the oil changed in the two years they’d owned the vehicle.

*I* can keep a 30-year-old car running. I can put a belt back on an engine in a dark parking lot with a wrench and a headlamp. I can drop a gas tank and replace my fuel filter and thumb my nose at the mechanics who tried to upsell me on “replacing your old, worn-out air filter” the day after I’d popped a new one into my truck.

These folks couldn’t keep a new car running with three alarms telling them what was wrong.

*I* can power up my 2005 macbook running Leopard and use garage band to record a song or do some design work on my copy of Adobe CS3; I can kludge its FF3.5 browser into playing nice with the internet and accept that it’s going to be a slow piece of shit.

The lady who called me confused by the fact that the password to her email was different than the login information for her grocery store rewards account will not be able to function if she gets a pop-up that says she’s using an outdated browser and will think it’s a virus if her bank won’t let her log in on that browser.

And you know what, I’m kind of sick of this attitude.

I would *fucking adore it* if computers were actually easy to repair; I’d love it if you could run new OSs on old hardware (especially on macs because I think apple are kind of shitheads about planned obsolescence).

But you know what, no, most people *CAN’T* reasonably expect to use a ten-year-old computer and have pleasant experience of it. It’s going to run slow. It’s going to shut down when they don’t want it to. The battery is going to swell slightly with the heat and your touchpad is going to go nuts. Your USB ports will stop working. Standard wear and tear that most people don’t know how to protect against and don’t know how to repair is going to make it harder to use AND software requirements will outstrip the hardware capabilities of the computer.

If your old computer sucks it’s not your fault. If you can’t happily use a 10-year-old laptop to do your homework that’s okay, it wasn’t designed for you to use it that way and YOU SHOULDN’T FEEL GUILTY ABOUT IT.

Because that’s kind of what a lot of these “well anybody should realistically be able to run a laptop from 2010″ responses comes down to: if you need new hardware you’re just not doing it right. If you have to replace your computer you didn’t make good choices when you bought it. If your battery dies it’s because you didn’t take care of it.

No. No. No. No.

This shit is A) designed to fail and B) actually really hard to keep running (hey how many blown capacitors do you think someone has to have on their motherboard before you say it’s not their fault for wanting to replace the laptop)

ALSO SOMEONE IN THE RESPONSES OF THAT POST LITERALLY SAID THAT IF YOUR BATTERY DIED AT THREE YEARS IT WAS BECAUSE YOU WEREN’T DOING THE DRAIN CHARGE CYCLE RIGHT AND FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU. It’s discharge cycles and heat, motherfucker; they are going to fail at some point and people shouldn’t feel bad if their batteries stop working after a couple years.

UGH.

You shouldn’t have to be a mechanic. You shouldn’t have to be a computer technician. Yeah, your shit will last longer if you know how to take care of it but, fuck. Imagine you were still using internet speeds from 2010. Imagine all your devices still had USB 2.0. Imagine you couldn’t log onto your online bank because your hardware won’t run he software that your bank recognizes because the hardware manufacturer decided it won’t support the older hardware.

What I was trying to get across in that initial post was “computers fail, and they fail pretty frequently; your life will be better and you will save money if you plan on replacing them at a regular interval and have reasonable expectations in terms of cost and failure. So buy a cheap computer now because you’re probably going to need one at some point”

And now I’ve got to Do A Yell about how there’s no ethical consumption under capitalism and it’s unreasonable to expect tired, overworked, broke people to become experts in computer repair in order to do their homework or play the goose game.

FUCK THAT.

IT’S CHEAP COMPUTER SEASON MOTHERFUCKERS. LAPTOP FAILURE RATES INCREASE AT THREE TO FIVE YEARS AND DESKTOP FAILURE RATES INCREASE AT FIVE TO SEVEN YEARS. RIGHT NOW THERE ARE DISCOUNTS ON NEW COMPUTERS AND IT’S CHEAP TO GET AN EXTENDED WARRANTY.

LIVE LONG AND PROSPER AND WORK ON COMPUTERS IF YOU WANNA AND PLAN TO REPLACE REGULARLY IF YOU DON’T WANT TO WORK ON COMPUTERS.

ALSO CHANGE YOUR FUCKING OIL YOU’RE PROBABLY DUE.

[nuttyrabbit]

Giovanni Conti Bio

“Nutty, are you only going to show up to post about Archie Sonic and your OCs?” Yes, yes I am

Anyways, I decided to throw together a quick bio for Gambit’s dad because hey I figured his stuff out and I’m doing shit with him now.

Shoutouts to @pidgeonspen​ for doing his design for me.

Anyways, as always, everything’s under the readmore

Name: Giovanni Conti (Real name Brando Romilla)

Age: Approximately 50 years old

Height: 3'4"

Occupation: Auto mechanic/Conman

Location: Unknown, last confirmed sighting in Westopolis. Originally born in Lugaio, Spagonia.

Sexuality: Bisexual, though greatly prefers women to the point of denying any male attraction

Personality: Giovanni's personality is what one would expect from a seasoned conman: charismatic, self-serving, and conniving, the weasel finds success in his trade thanks to his natural talent in dealing with others. To his victims, Giovanni appears to be a charming, compassionate, smooth-talking individual who seems to go out of his way to help others in their time of need. But of course it's all a farce, a way to con unsuspecting victims out of their hard-earned cash. In reality, the man formerly known as Brando Romilla is the exact opposite. A selfish, grumpy, and temperamental weasel "behind the scenes", Giovanni finds himself unwilling to engage with the world around him outside of whatever con he's cooked up or to get out of whatever mess he's gotten himself into this time.

Giovanni's most defining personality trait however, isn't his sardonic attitude or his smoothtalking ways, but instead his paranoia.  Giovanni has spent the majority of his life on the run and it shows.  He often finds himself looking over his shoulder both figuratively and quite literally, hoping that his latest victim hasn't found out about him or that the law or the mafia or whoever he's crossed hasn't tracked him down to enact their revenge.  As such, Giovanni is extremely hesitant to give out his name unless absolutely necessary for the con, even going so far as to make up fake names in emergency situations, though the truth eventually comes out.  In addition, he trusts absolutely nobody and almost always looks for a way to backstab/escape any sort of partnership he's found himself on the receiving end of, willing or otherwise.

All of this being said, it isn't *all* bad for Giovanni personality-wise, for when the weasel finds something he actually likes, one can see a softer, more eager side of him come out. Despite his professed hatred of his previous job, Giovanni has a rather deep appreciation for the intricacies of vehicles and vehicle repairs, even going so far as to sneak into antique car shows to gawk at the new vehicles and reminisce about the "good old days" before it "got so complicated" in terms of technology. Oddly enough, he also loves vinyl.

Skills: Giovanni is of course, an incredibly skilled con-man, imploying a variety of cons and scams to trick people out of their money, ranging from simple "tourist trap" tricks such as "no change", "toll booth", and "free gift", to more complicated ones such as "flat tire" schemes and even reselling stolen/counterfeit items at a significantly marked up price.  His variety in terms of cons is helped by his ability to sell them thanks to his smooth-talking charismatic persona that he puts on during them.  As a result of his occupation he's also extremely adept at pointing out other cons/knowing when he's being duped.  Not only that, but he's even picked up some basic lockpicking/hotwiring and ID forging skills, though they aren't quite as honed as his other talents in the area.

Surprisingly enough, again despite his professed dislike of his childhood job, Giovanni is an incredibly skilled mechanic, being able to assess the issues with (mostly older) vehicles just from a few minutes of observation and testing alone and fixing it in record times. OF course he'll complain about how he's "too fuckin' old" for it, but he'll do a damn good job...and even enjoy himself somewhat.   He claims he would be unable to work on "new-fangled" vehicles such as Extreme Gear but if he were to get the chance, would find that he'd be a natural at it.

Likes: Antique vehicles, wine, the feeling when he pulls of a con, vinyl records, fresh pressed suits, rare steak, expensive cigars, older women, working on antique vehicles.

Dislikes: The law, organized crime outfits, his ex-wife, his kid, getting caught, prison, cheap beer, "new" technology, people who talk too much, his grandfather, working on vehicles (his relationship with auto repair is..complicated), staying in one place for too long.

Backstory: Brando Rombilla was born into anything but normalcy:  born to a pair of younger Spagonian lovers, the result of a tryst gone wrong, he was abandoned on the steps of his paternal grandfather, the widowed mechanic Angelo Rombilla, who would raise the weasel as his own.

Angelo was an old, stubborn, hardworking man who had spent his entire life toiling away as a mechanic, even coming to own his own shop...yet despite it all, he never quite had a lot to show for it, and Brando grew up in not quite poverty, but in...less than modest means

Despite this...unusual situation, Brando would, at least for a time, grow up as any other child would, going to school, making friends, and living as a normal Spagonian child would--at least until he hit the age of 12-13, where his father suddenly and inexplicably ground his childhood to a halt, pulling him out of school and telling him that he was going to be a "working man" from now on, that he'd have to help out at the shop and help put food at the table--and that is indeed what happened.

From then on, Brando found himself working at the modest repair shop, working the front desk, doing oil changes, and learning the ins and outs of auto repair--and he fucking hated it.

Not just because he'd been robbed of the experiences his peers were getting, but it served as a constant reminder of the (at least to him) pathetic conditions in which they lived and worked. In addition, it only served to exacerbate his sheer irritation at his father's stubbornness and near-perfectionist standards.

But over time, as he aged and saw his peers move on to bigger and better things, he realized something else: all this work, all this "good, honest, hard" work he'd been doing, that his grandfather had been doing, that he wanted him to inherit, it was getting them nowhere

The both of them spent years and years doing the same shit over and over, and they were no better off than when they'd started. They still lived like shit, ate like shit, and worked like dogs, and the idea of doing this his entire life revolted him.  Yet when he'd bring this up, he'd just get shouted down, beaten down, and told to get back to work. He loathed it all.

Then one day, around the time Giovanni hit 19--it all changed. In a moment of what his grandfather would call laziness and what Brando would later call ingenuity, he accidentally charged a customer for something they hadn't done--and with it, more money than he should've had.  It suddenly hit him, his way out, his way to actually do something about all of this. It started off slow, an overcharge here, a useless job done there, a job not done this way or that, even some front product sold off of lies.  Before Brando knew it, the shop was actually making money for once, and more than that, he was making money.  And the best part was, that for once, Angelo seemed like he didn't have a stick up his ass. He seemed...happy, over the moon really that things had begun to look up.  Things seemed to finally be getting better!

....until Angelo caught Brando in the act, after which the mother of all shouting matches ensued, of the grandson and grandfather screaming at each other about this and that, about everything--and saw Brando being thrown out of the shop, out of his grandfather's home--and out of his life

Out on his ass with only the money he'd pocketed and the clothes on his back to his name, Brando  by all rights should have been terrified about his future, livid about what had happened, but instead he found himself excited. Now that his grandpappy or his stupid shop wasn't a problem anymore, he could finally do something with himself, and he knew exactly what that'd be--putting to use the same bullshittery that'd gotten him here to begin with.

And so the young weasel found himself hopping all over Spagonia, honing his craft. Whether it be through  pinching wares from stores and selling them nearby at an outrageously hiked price,  snatching and selling bootleg items, or even using his mechanic skills to craft "wonder items" that were quite literally just old scrapyard junk,  Brando soon became quite adept at the art of the con.  However, with that adeptness came attention, and with that attention came the watchful eye of the law, which attempted to crack down on the weasel multiple times as he traveled about Spagonia.

Soon enough, his face and name were plastered on wanted signs, in local papers, and in time, he couldn't run any longer, finally being booked on fraud charges and placed in prison for ~ 3 years at the age of 22.   Upon getting out,  Brando realized that he couldn't exactly do his work here anymore, lest he get thrown back in for good.

But Soleanna wasn't exactly appealing either, especially since the SPD were notorious for cracking down on fraudsters.  He was at a loss at what to do, until he managed to catch a TV broadcast talking about Empire City and it hit him- EC would be the perfect place to disappear and get a fresh start.  It was big, it was far away, and it was full of suckers just waiting to be parted with their money Forging himself a new identity (quite literally) as "Giovanni Conti" , he smuggled himself on board a ship and soon found himself in Empire City, where he almost immediately got to work--and found the results to be not what he expected

While the toursts were complete suckers as expected, the residents were anything but, and he found himself on the run from the law once more--and in addition, the various criminal orgs that made their homes there and had no tolerance for being scammed.   Needless to say, the whole thing frustrated him, and with no other way to vent his frustrations, he turned to drinking, and with it, found himself at a small bar in downtown EC, drinking away his frustrations...and chatting up an equally frustrated, and rather attractive young woman. He didn't catch her last name, but certainly caught her first- Artemis

What should have just been a simple one night tryst suddenly got a lot more complicated once the young woman had tracked him down almost a week  later with some soul-crushing news: She was pregnant, and it was almost certainly by him.  To make matters worse, Artemis was an up and coming politician, someone in the running for the EC City Council, and she would be DAMNED if it came out that she got knocked up in a one night stand, that would ruin her career! Despite Giovanni's attempts at arguing otherwise, she also insisted on keeping the child, claiming that if word got out she got rid of it, it would ruin her career. Threatening to hand him over to authorities, she blackmailed him into sticking by her side for the following 9 months, appearing in front of the cameras as a pictureesque pair of parents-to-be, Artemis embracing the newfound attention and Giovanni absolutely loathing all the eyes on him, and not only that, but also moving in together to her (admittedly) lavish apartment.

This continued up on through the end of the pregnancy and into the birth of their son, who Artemis named "Tai", a (perhaps ironic) homage to an old Apotosian patron of Luck.  From then, things continued normally, well as least as normal as could be for the unwitting parents-to-be, up until the child was around a year old, when Artemis went on a sudden vacation.  Left alone with the child and feeling helplessly trapped, Giovanni contemplated making a break for it, perhaps faking his own death and figuring out the details later, when a hooded figure burst into the home and attempted to shoot both him and the child dead.  Through a near-miraculous stroke of luck though, the intruder's gun jammed, giving Giovanni the chance to brandish a knife and stab them in the jugular.  His heart pounding, his mind racing, Giovanni quickly put two and two together: someway, somehow, Artemis had tried to get the two of them whacked.  Quickly disposing of the body and without really thinking about it, Giovanni grabbed the child and made a break for it, bolting from the apartment and leaving Empire City under cover of darkness, trying to make sure he left no trace that he had left--or was even still alive.

Soon arriving in Westopolis, Giovanni and Tai found a small apartment to squat in for the time being. Quickly settling in, Giovanni quickly fell back into his old ways, and found the people of Westopolis far more vulnerable to his schemes than in EC. Still, the weasel wasn't happy. His "new start" that he'd hoped for had fallen apart before it'd even gotten the chance to get off the ground because of *her*, Artemis. Giovanni's frustration gnawed away at him--not helped by the tiny weasel at home, his little boy--the *mistake* that'd gotten him into this mess.   He often found himself verbally and physically taking out his frustrations on young Tai, even more so when it turned out the little brat wasn't even good enough to help him on cons.  He wished he could get rid of the little bastard once and for all, but for some reason, he just couldn't bring himself to kill him despite his best efforts.

Years went by, but nothing truly changed for the pair, until young Tai was 8 years old and Giovanni found himself on the bad end of a con gone wrong, having inadvertently found himself attempting to swindle an undercover cop.  Rushing back to the apartment he and Tai shared, he quickly grabbed whatever tools he could and attempted to disappear, leaving the young Tai behind for good.

Throwing himself out of the frying pan and into the proverbial fire, Giovanni had managed to disappear and evade the cops---and run right into one of his "victims": "Downtown" Ebony Hare--a "made man" in the Carnades, one of the major local outfits--and someone who he'd given a shoddy brake job.  Ebony recognized the weasel almost immediately and motioned to off him for messing up his car, but after Giovanni pleaded for his life, Ebony spared him-- on the condition that he work off his "debts" to him and the Carnades.

Faced with either paying his dues or paying with his life, Giovanni made the obvious choice and ended up doing quite a few small jobs for Ebony over the course of the next decade and change (approx  13 years) not only fixing his car but also fixing the other vehicles in the outfit--and giving a disgustingly large portio nof the proceeds from his other "work" directly to Ebony.  Once again, Giovanni was trapped doing the very thing he'd been stuck doing since childhood and not only that, but also indebted to a mobster who had no intention of letting him go.  He desperately tried to find a way out, but it was to no avail--until a near miraculous stroke of "luck".

The Black Arms invasion decimated a significant portion of Mobius, especially Northamer, and no place found itself worse off than Westopolis. For most living there, it seemed like the end times as  the city burned around them. But for Giovanni, it was an opportunity to finally disappear--and never come back.

The invasion soon ended, the repairs soon begun, and the Carnades began to operate once more--but Giovanni was nowhere to be found. Despite a thorough search of the city, the weasel had just...vanished, presumably killed by the aliens or escaping to parts unknown after.  

Giovanni's current location is unknown and those who know of him believe him to be dead, but there have been some apparent sightings of the aged con-man.  Some say they've seen him on the outskirts of Sand Blast City, others say they've seen him working his trade with another individual down in the Southern Baronies, and some even say that he's still in Westopolis, working his craft, and sticking close to the headquarters of the East Side Pack, a noted rival of the Carnades.

[thereluctantinquisitor]

27, 63 or 76 for the kiss meme!

So first of all, I apologise - this got a lot longer than I anticipated! I went with #76 - Top of head kisses, and decided to write a scene between Adiran and Riin. 

This scene takes place after the final round of the Red Fury - a Talveran tournament dedicated to the old god of war, Velos Devo. Adiran, after five years of training with Riin, managed to win his earlier matches and was finally up against the former champion. It goes... not so well.

The world returned to Adiran in flashes - shattered pieces of memory shaken loose inside his head. A roaring crowd. The smell of sweat. His skin, feverish inside his armour, brought to temperature by the blazing sun. It was the final day of the tournament. The final bout. He could remember the pull of his heart, insistent, like a hand tugging on a mother’s skirt. Remembered how he had pressed his own hand to his chest, leather gauntlet creaking, as though to still it through his plate. How many rounds had he fought? Six? Seven? He should know the number. Divider, he should live and breathe the number. But it eluded him, slipping from his grasp like an oiled vase. 

A sound broke through the images - a chair sliding over stone. Adiran dreamed it was a crow, shrieking in the cloudless sky above the arena.

Crosus waited, a mountain at the center of the sands. He was a man whose shadow stood a worthier opponent than any Adiran had already faced. Trained since youth in the barren stones of the Split, he had been named champion two times. Two times. To win once was to be favoured by Velos Devo, the old god whose name was only resurrected once every five years for contest. For glory. To win twice was a miracle - a feat for storybooks and legends. Three times would be utter madness.

Something soft brushed Adiran’s forehead. He flinched from it. In his mind, he shooed a fly from his face as he strode to meet his opponent in the red-lined ring. 

Sweat sticking to his skin, he positioned himself in the giant’s shadow. Brown eyes, shielded by a heavy brow, watched him quietly. He swore he read pity in Crosus’ gaze - a secret between only them, carefully kept from the crowd. Adiran had no time to question it, only to tighten his grip on his sword. A cry from the stands ripped the silence, sharp as an eagle’s talons. 

Begin. 

Adiran’s breath caught in his chest. He couldn’t breathe. Rasping, he tried to pull in air, the shape of Crosus freezing, turning brittle, falling apart behind his eyelids. Hands were on him, strong, frantic, levering him up, turning him to the side. Pain lanced through his chest like a thousand tiny knives, stabbing holes in his bruised lungs. The air stuck halfway down his throat. 

Nauseous, dizzy, breathless, the arena returned.

At some point during the fight, he remembered stumbling. Pivoting, his heel digging a deep gouge in the sand. The shape of Crosus’ mace filled his vision, swung with two heavy hands. Muscles bulged, brown eyes blazed, pity forgotten, lost to the Red Fury. Chosen once again. Adiran barely had time to brace, his sword arm too wide, his shield knocked aside, his stance a panicked mess.

He saw the sky - a pale, piercing blue. 

The sun. 

The crowd. 

The sand. 

Adiran’s back exploded in pain as he slammed into the ground, the wind driven from his lungs. Mindlessly, desperately, he chased the lost air, gasping, helmet knocked askew, blinding him, mouth opening and closing in the metallic dark. His chest stuttered, spasmed, tried to rise but was stopped by something impossibly hard. Impossibly tight. He couldn’t see. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.

There was a voice, deep, familiar, vibrating by his ear. Adiran strained, but the words eluded him, too low to decipher. A hand was on his forehead, holding back his sweat-soaked hair as he coughed, retched, clung to whoever kept him steady. His body felt made of hot coals - not blazing like a fire, but burning with a silent, agonising heat. Everything ached. He trembled like he was about to come apart.

Breathe, Adiran. It’s over.

He was in the arena again, lying helpless on the ground. Even in the darkness, white spots burst and swam in his vision. Adiran scrabbled at the sand, unable to turn, get up, do anything to save himself. Mindlessly, he struck his open palm to the ground once, twice, three times. Surrender. But no one came. Nothing changed. He fought to breathe, willing his chest to rise, begging for the hot summer air to pass his throat, panic rising when it would not. Death was not uncommon in the Red Fury. The contest’s very name made a grim promise to the cheering masses in the stands. Death was never the purpose - never the goal. But once the favour of Velos Devo, Lord of the Bloodied Hand, was cast, the rules of mercy and surrender all too often fell aside. As was expected. As was tradition.

Something tugged at his left side, then his right. Adiran’s vision faltered, his heart pounding an erratic, frantic rhythm against his ribs. It echoed in his skull - deafened him to the crowd. To Crosus. To a new voice, shouting, saying... something. He couldn’t understand it. Couldn’t see. Couldn’t breathe.

Just as the world began to sputter and dim, everything was suddenly drowned out by a piercing screech. The sound tore through his skull, jolted him back into his body. If he had air to give, he would have screamed.

He was dying. This had to be dying.

His back arched. His fingers went limp in the sand. Then, with an final, awful shriek, the weight on his chest was suddenly lifted. Air flooded back into Adiran’s newly freed lungs - he heaved it in with a mindless, choking gasp. The helmet was tugged from his head, sunlight flooding in, burning his eyes. Hands cupped his face, smoothed his hair, said his name over and over like a mantra. Like a prayer.

His name...

Adiran’s eyes flew open, wild and panicked until his surroundings finally began to take shape. He was in a room, a place dim and dull and far from the arena sands. He trembled, gasping, cringing against the pain as he pulled in breath after breath, unable to stop - unwilling to stop - even as his vision cleared and the agony of it threatened to turn his stomach. He was sitting up, a woolen sheet pooled at his waist. The bed beneath him was a familiar, simple affair. After a few more seconds of half-sobbed gasps, Adiran finally recognised the physicker’s ward. 

Riin’s arms were around him, holding him up, bracing him as though to protect him from a storm. “Breathe, Adiran. Just breathe.” His voice was low and familiar, but edged with something Adiran had never heard in it before. 

Fear.

“R... Riin...?”

The tall man shifted, pulling away, leaving just enough distance to take Adiran in with those amber-bright eyes. Adiran stared right into them, ragged and fraying at the edges. He was clinging to Riin’s forearm, fingertips digging into the man’s skin as the truth of the situation finally crashed over him. 

He’d nearly died. He’d nearly fucking died.

And for what?

“Adiran, stay with me.” The relief in Riin’s face, near palpable, wavered as he raised a palm to Adiran’s cheek. It was a strange gesture - strangely intimate - but in that moment Adiran simply accepted it. Needed it. He leaned against the palm, bone-tired, eyelids drooping even as Riin urged him to stay awake. The room blurred, sharpened, then blurred again, chased in and out of focus by the line of his lashes. 

“I’m okay.” Adiran’s voice felt raw as it limped from his aching throat, but he forced it out. “I’m alright, Riin.”

Riin made a sound, and if Adiran had any coin to spare, he would place a bet on disbelief. But, despite his companion’s incredulity, it was true. For the most part. He was alright. He could breathe. He was alive. Riin was there. 

Riin was there.

Something sparked at the back of Adiran’s weary mind, stirring him away from the edge of sleep. He forced his eyes open again - found his gaze flicking around the room. Ignoring Riin’s questioning glance, he struggled on; kept looking until he found what he sought, discarded on a nearby table.

His plate. 

The chest-piece, once a gleaming, princely silver, lay like a piece of mangled sheet, discarded by a blacksmith’s apprentice. The sides, fastened by a series of thick clasps, were warped and bent, crushed against each other, broken beyond repair. He remembered now. The mace striking his chest. It had flung him through the air. The blow must have caved in the front of his armour - crushed it against him. When he hit the ground, hard and heavy, it would have only made matters worse, bending and warping the already ruined metal.

But there was something else that caught his eye.

“I... how...?” The words were barely above a whisper. Adiran felt Riin’s grip on him tighten as the man followed his gaze, but he said nothing. He didn’t need to.

The center section of Adiran’s plate, where the mace must have done its worst damage, lay entirely separate to the rest of it. From the neckguard down, a wide strip was missing, the edges jagged and twisted as though it had been torn. To see it defied belief - defied possibility. That was metal. Twice-forged steel. He remembered now, the moment when he had drawn that first breath. That skull-piercing sound - the thud of something heavy being cast aside. The palms pressed to either side of his face as he coughed and choked on air and blood. A pair of blurry amber eyes.

Riin must have leapt from the stands. Rushed the field. He had ripped Adiran’s ruined armour straight from his body. Torn it with his bare hands.

Opening his mouth, Adiran tried to form words, but found them impossible, each one slipping away from him faster than he could catch the next. He must have faltered, because Riin murmured something hastily, catching him and lowering him back down to the bed. How those hands could be so gentle, Adiran didn’t understand. Every time they had sparred - every time Adiran had cursed and struck and charged at him with everything he had - Riin had never hurt him. 

It couldn’t be real. He must be mistaken. Delirious. After all, he’d nearly died. 

Or maybe he had, and this was all just some strange, impossible dream.

The pillow was soft beneath his head. His skull still ached - thrummed with a pain so deep-set Adiran feared me may have it for the rest of his life. He groaned and said as much, and was rewarded by a quiet, relieved chuckle. It was a comfort, to hear him laugh. Even if it was at his expense.

“I can only imagine. Crosus does not hold back.” There was a pause, and both of them knew how much of an understatement that was. Dark eyes, wild at the edges. 

Almost tentatively, Riin spoke again. “My mother had a cure. When I was younger. For a painful head or a wounded mind.”

Adiran squinted his eyes open. Just a crack. Just enough to see Riin watching him, his expression... strange. Fond? Anxious? On another day, Adiran might have spent hours trying to decipher it. But as it was, he was exhausted. There was only so much he had left to give. 

So instead, he just groaned, and pressed his eyes shut once more. “I’ll take just about anything right now.” 

There was a pause. A moment absent movement or sound, save for a set of muffled footsteps passing outside the physicker’s ward. Then, a soft rustle of fabric. A quiet creak from the bed as Riin moved. Leaned. Even with his eyes closed, Adiran could feel Riin hesitate, his breath warm and gentle against his hair.

Slowly, he pressed his lips to the top of Adiran’s head.

On another day, Adiran might have teased the man. Rolled his eyes. In his dreams, he grabbed that beautiful, frustrating idiot by the collar and showed him how to do it properly. But, after so long teetering on the edge of consciousness, Adiran simply sighed, swallowed, and let himself drift away into a much-needed sleep.

[sea-salted-wolverine]

Okay so last week was a shitkicker and was literally so bad I spent the better part of the week trying to delude myself into thinking it was a good day. Like, we're talking, "the sun is shining and I'm here to see it so today is a good day" and "I'm having a bad day- fuck me I am not haveing a bad day- I'm having a good day- I'm not having a bad day". Denial is a powerful tool for mental health, apply judiciously. I get that everyone on earth is kinda having a shitty year but it feels like things just kinda escalated in my little corner

The 7th had a huge snow storm that brought traffic to a stand still. No one could leave the house and university class was online anyway. Batshit customer demanded to pick up her gear anyway. I drove in because I was the only person with keys to the shop that could get to the building. It took me a solid 2 hours going 15mph on the highway. The snow in the parking lot was up past the fenders of my truck. Crazy lady gets 10 out of 18 of her survival suits back but the other 8 still have holes in them because our only repair tech is also the only one who answers the phone or runs the computer or handles customers or cleans or disinfects anything or stores gear. I'll give you one guess who that person is.

Did you guess me? Good for you. Fun fact this was not the case in October.

Crazy lady swans off through the snowed in parking lot and because she cant find the exit, blasts straight through the ditch and onto the road.

I say fuck it and leave. I've been at work for 2 hours. I have made 24 dollars for my trouble. It takes me another hour to get home.

The 8th is Saturday and I'm supposed to be at work. No one can drive. There was another 10 8nches of snow last night. I say fuck work and go to dig out the plow truck. The canopy over the plow truck collapses as I walk out to clear the snow of it.

I do not scream.

My partner and I get the truck running and go plow people out of their driveways and then go do the shop.

We come back home and the heater doesn't work. We just spent most of last week frantically trying to limp the thing along because no heat at -20°F is in a word fucking unpleasant. At least now its 40 degrees warmer because if the snowstorm. We take it apart again. The house smells like diesel. The house smells like exhaust. The house is not cold because the wood stove can keep up at 20 above zero but it won't keep us through the winter.

There is no saving the oil heater. We need a new one.

Its 730 and neither of us have eaten. I start rice in the pressure cooker so I can throw a tasty bite on top and call it dinner and that dies too. Explosively.

Dinner is half cooked rice and microwaved curry.

Sunday is spent finding a way to stretch our increasingly thin budget to buy a new heater. Between us we actually have 2275$ and we will still cover the mortgage. Somehow. All our Christmas gifts will be hand made this year. The next thing that breaks will stay broken.

Monday, power outages due to snow storm. No wifi, no zoom meetings. Another 8 inches of snow. This is now more snow than my city gets for the full year.

My boss calls sobbing. The dog died. Joey, an 11 year old, 130lb mastiff with a tumor the size of a football on his liver has been her constant companion for at least 8 years. The pandemic has confused the bejesus out of him because while he loves the lock down and going out to play every hour or so he doesnt really like the concept of strangers in masks. Hes a guard dog and doesnt understand that men in masks coming into the shop are not here to kill mom they're wearing masks so they don't kill mom.

Mondays the shop is closed anyway and I spend it installing the new heater. It doesn't quite fit in the space the old heater came out of but its warm.

Tuesday, I go to work, everyone cancels class, I once again gently explain to a regular that eugenics is bad. I would like to curse him out. I cant. He drops a grand on scuba gear and leaves, talking about how great his trip to Mexico will be.

I do not scream.

A friend calls to ask how I'm doing. Not great. Yea, her niether. She asks if I want to go out to the backcountry with her over the weekend. I explain that my leg physically does not move and I'm downing copious amounts of advil to remain upright. The doctor sent me in for an MRI but has not yet called back. Plus I'm supposed to go to Valdez for the weekend and actually go diving. That I can do with limited use of my leg.

She says yikes, take it easy, take care of yourself, I love you.

I say, yikes, I'm tired of taking it easy, I wanna play, I love you too.

Hit me up if your plans open up and we can do something gentle on your leg. She says.

God yes. The cold woods away from people sounds like paradise. I dont even care that it will cause me rending physical pain to get there. I need a break.

Its Wednesday. I go to school. I get pulled over. Miraculously I dont get a ticket. I'm white female and conventionaly attractive, maybe not so miraculous. I rolled through a stop sign but I'm pretty sure I couldn't afford a ticket.

I get a text in class. One of the instructors who works with the dive shop has tested positive for covid. I haven't seen the man in 2 months. I needed a spare instructor but he was nowhere to be found. But hey, evidently that's a good thing.

I go to work. I vacillate between doing the job a 4 people and having nothing to do.

I go to the grocery store because I misjudged my last monthly grocery run and even though I'm increasing my exposure I'm out of cheese and tea damnit.

The store is packed. Pandemic who?

My partner and I haven't had a date nite in a while and this week has been shitty. I want a nice dinner. I pick up a couple boxes of the carton sushi which isnt terrible and is about as nice as I can justify on the new budget. I grab a gallon of milk and a few other things. I forgot my wallet in the truck and the cashier is chill and sets my stuff aside while I grab it.

I pay and take my stuff home and realize I left one of my bags at the store. No cheese or tea for me.

Thursday. 10am my phone goes off with an emergency alert. The govoner has grown a spine in light of recent elections and is instituting a voluntary lock down. My state has 500 new cases a day. That might not sound like a lot but theres only 300,000 people in Alaska and we've got poor medical infrastructure.

Unfortunately Alaska is full of Alaskans and nobody can tell us what to do. Nothing changes. 7pm rolls around and I'm teaching scuba classes in the pool.

I load a few hundred pounds of scuba gear into the back of my truck. In a wet wetsuit. In the snow. In a fabric facemask. 6 feet apart. In the pool.

I dont get paid for pool time.

Over the summer we had 6 dive masters including me, all big burly dudes, much better suited to picking things up. Its November and I'm the only one.

The kids I'm teaching are going to Hawaii. They're 10 and 13 and so wildly excited about breathing underwater its beautiful to watch. And they're traveling to an island. In a pandemic.

Friday.

Unload scuba gear so it doesnt get stolen out of the back of my truck while I'm at class. Were doing a make up lab today. Hey of the five student in my class only one of us has covid so theres that.

My boss calls an let's me know that shes left for Valdez without me. If I'd like to make an 8 hour drive by myself in a snowstorm I'm welcome to follow.

I'm in class till an hour before shop closing. I'm not driving across town so I can run on the open sign for half an hour.

The shop stays closed on Friday.

Saturday.

I explained to everyone we had business with that the shop would be closed over the weekend and Friday. I planned on being in Valdez. Hell I canceled plans to be in Valdez.

I open the shop and immediately field calls about why we werent open. I start to explain about the Valdez trip and logistical difficulties and then I realize that shes not mad about that. The woman was here before I opened early this morning. We have never been open that early. The hours are on the door.

A regular comes in. Hes also confused as to why I'm here.

Sunday finds me curled up in bed, reluctant to leave. Getting out of bed has not played out well for me recently.

A friend comes over to chat with my partner about specialist rifle parts. This isnt that wierd, he works at a gun shop and they've been discussing upgrading my partners current rifle set up.

He is wearing a full Scottish kilt. Red tartan. Looks very lovely.

I make zucchini bread and my proportions are a little off because I have too much zucchini so it's a little over moist but it's good. I'm recovering from an asskicker of a week and next week will be better.

Monday morning:

Baby brother has covid

Dads getting the results of his rapid test tonight.

Mom isnt getting tested because she says she doesnt have symptoms but that's not the fucking point mom.

So, I'm not going home for thanksgiving. I'm not diving in Valdez. I'm not skiing backcountry.

I'm not sick. I'm not flat broke yet. I dont have a ticket. I have a job. I have people who care about me. Im managing my physical and mental health as best I can. Im just fucking exhausted.

[the-beskar-alchemist]

Billy’s Baby

Buckle up buttercups, because I have a lot of feelings and I can't seem to control my brain's obsessiveness with Billy and his relationship with/mentality towards his little mean machine, so here's a bit of a "Character Analysis" starring a certain Camaro and its mullet-wearing human.

(I want to include some of the other characters, besides immediate family, but I think I'll save that for a headcanon post. More specifically I want to elaborate on Billy/Neil vs Billy/Hop/Joyce in terms of how he is with the car).

Here are some somethings I've noticed:

1) Billy doesn't appear to want to put too much money into anything cosmetic. Basically he's not eager to "pimp" his ride, only maintain the upkeep.  Granted he's probably working on a budget, and that's absolutely my headcanon....but only HALF of it. Do you know what costs more money than parts? Cigarettes.  If he's buying a pack or more a day, that money adds up, he could be spending hundreds of dollars a year, maybe more depending on the brand. I get the feeling that he's not interested in making his car look like a starlet, but he does value its appearance enough to keep it clean.

2) While he's not interested in a Fast and Furious worthy look, he's not eager to do damage on any cosmetic/mechanical level.  Yes in S2 he threatens to run over the boys, but honestly that felt like a bluff to test Max's loyalty to Hawkins (and the boys by default). Repairs (on the surface or below) cost money, which Billy is struggling to get.  He'll keep the fluids check/changed, the tank as full as financially possible, and the car washed, but he's not going to bust his ass to prove a point.  The engine is running, it gets him from A to B, and that's his main goal.

3) This car is a personal thing for him, it's his safe-space, fuck how anyone else feels about it. It's a point of focus for him, or at least one of the top 5 things that gives his life meaning.  It's not THE most important thing, honestly he could live without it if necessary, but he's not eager to part with his baby.  It's something that's JUST his, and no one else's. It's something he can claim that wasn't touched by Neil and has no connection with that deadbeat WHATSOEVER. Basically it's not TAINTED, and he loves that.  While he may bear a few scars from his life with his father, the car is unscathed, and that matters to him.

4) Why yes it is a chick-magnet, why do you ask? It has a V-8 engine that'll scare anyone standing too close when he gives it a nice rev before taking off.  He's done a few burn-outs, donuts, he's street-raced a few times hoping to win so he can get some serious cash, but a wheelie? He's afraid to try, he's heard stories, but the idea of raising up off the ground and feeling the roar of the engine beneath him? Makes his heart race.  When he first got the car people started to notice him, he wasn't "just Billy" anymore, he was Bad Boy Billy with the cool car.  The girls would flock to him just before he climbed inside and gave the engine a spin, they were drawn to the power of that engine more than Billy, but he didn't mind.  It's only when Max climbs into the car that he's reminded why he got the car in the first place, less than a year before they moved.  The girls are a nice bonus, but you can't put a price on freedom.

5) He's a teenager so obviously he enjoys having the option to leave the house if he needs to.  That's always the dream right, once you get your license? The car was only ever meant to be a way to escape, but it inevitably became a moving hotel room during those dark times.  When Neil would lose his shit and put his hands on Billy, forcing him out the door because he "was getting sick of his shit", and Billy had nowhere to go......his baby was the one to give him a place to rest.  Hell if he ever made it out of this shithole he just might live in the car for a while until he got back on his feet. But leaving Max would be the hardest part, because without Billy in the house Neil had to turn to SOMEONE to vent his anger.  But those nights when he curled up in the backseat (the front seat just wasn't that comfortable to lay on), usually with only his jacket to keep him warm, Billy couldn't help but think about the open road that would lead to a place far, far away from Hawkins.

6) While Billy is capable as a self-taught (ish) mechanic, he's not AS incline as he could be. It's not that he doesn't care to learn, he truly does, enough that he's snuck books out of the local library just so he could figure out what the hell was making that racket that one time he couldn't get the car to start. His lack of a teacher is the issue, and Billy sure as HELL won't go to his dad asking for help.  The one time he did, Neil scoffed and snapped back with an "It's your fucking car, you fix it", before shoving past Billy to leave the house.  Billy didn't ask again.  What he's learned was "on the go", purely a trial-and-error situation, he doesn't stop until he figures it out. He once spent HOURS trying to fix the car (there was a blockage in the fuel-line and the car wouldn't stay cranked), by the end of it all he was very tired. But knowing he'd taken care of the problem HIMSELF only fueled his confidence, and elevated him to a kind of high no woman or drug could ascend him. He slept like a baby that night.

7) Where did he get this car anyway? If he's strapped for cash how did he afford it? Well in my personal opinion Billy "earned" the car by working for the previous owner.  When he was still living in California, he went for a walk on the beach, a little further than he usually did.  He came across a beach house, and the Camaro was parked in a shed. He only noticed it because the breeze had caused a corner of the tarp covering it to flap, kind of like it was waving, and underneath a singular headlight caught the light from the sunset and nearly blinded him.  The man that owned it said it was his son's car before, but he died in Vietnam, and he didn't have the heart to drive it.  Long story short Billy worked out a deal to pay off the car little by little.  During this time the old man told him a thing or two about how to take care of it, what oil to use, what wax worked the best, etc.  By the time Billy had the car in his possession, they had to move to Indiana.  His biggest fear was the car breaking down before he could make it there.  He'd enjoyed his time with the old man, even bonded a little, it still hurts to this day knowing he had to leave it all behind.  He had started to really like the guy.

8) Obviously Neil isn't too fond of his son's car, he's complained about it leaving oil stains in the driveway, how Billy parks it at the house, when it's blocked the other cars (it wasn't even close to being in the way, Neil just sucks at backing up).  Neil once backed into the Camaro while leaving the house, and Billy flipped his shit, but Neil wasn't having that. He threatened to have the car towed away if Billy didn't start parking where he "was supposed to". Billy didn't argue at that point, he wasn't sure if Neil would follow-through or not, but a tow was expensive so it wasn't worth the risk.  Of course Neil DOES shut up for the most part, resorting to saving his complaints for his most "unfavorable" moments, why? Because of Max. As long as Billy has a car, Max has a chauffeur, so she's out of Neil's and Susan's hair at least THAT much.  As long as Billy has a car, Max is not their problem, so he'll shut up about it enough to avoid losing that loophole.

This turned out a LOT longer than I'd originally planned, sorry for the length, but I have so many thoughts popping into my head so I'm trying to get them all out or I'll get restless lol.

[buckymcbuttfacebarnes]

Some Other Night

Pairing: biker!bucky x reader

Word Count: about 3.2k (yall i got carried away)

Warnings: lotta fluff tad bit of angst yall know the drill

a/n: long italicized portions are memories! let me know what yall think!!! if yall have any suggestions or requests just message me!!!

my other fics

The bar wasn’t far from home, and because it was summertime the sun still shone with its bright golden glow even though it was nearly seven o’clock, so Y/N decided to walk to the bar and catch a ride back home with Bucky.

The aroma of fried food, alcohol, and cigarette smoke enveloped her senses the moment she entered. Her eyes scanned the dimly lit interior for him—he wasn’t hard to miss. He stood with his back to her, his loose bun and familiar broad shoulders distinguishing him from the rest of his group of biker buddies, a fairly large group of men and like, two women. This was their hangout spot on Saturday nights, which she knew, having been with Bucky and the group for about two and a half years now. Y/N herself wasn’t a biker, she had actually met Bucky at the auto-repair shop he worked in. She went in with the intention of getting an oil change for car and ended up being sweet talked into going on a date with him. One date turned into two, two to three, and so on...until before she knew it they were a legitimate item. This prompted her, of course, to get to know his friends. He had told her that they were his family, the most family he’d ever had anyway.

Sam was the first to spot Y/N upon her entry. He flashed her a wide grin before shouting, “Wifey’s here!”

Bucky turned, beer in hand, a doting look on his face. “Hey, baby doll,” he greeted warmly, opening his arms to welcome her forthcoming embrace.

As her arms wound around his neck a mocking snort of disgust was heard, probably from Nat. “Buck, you big softy,” Steve tsked, earning a giggle from Y/N. It was still amazing to her how different Bucky could be towards his friends and towards her. There were two very different sides to him, an unbeknownst fact to outsiders looking in. He could be so warm and playful, other times so stoic and vulgar. At times like these she got to see both sides at the same time.

“I’ll still kick your ass, Rogers,” he quipped gruffly, pressing a kiss to the side of Y/N’s head. His free hand rested on the small of her back. “I thought you had to work late tonight, doll. What ya doin’ here?”

“What, am I intruding?” she replied in an amused tone, parting from their warm embrace to give the group a look that seemed to say ‘Get a load of this guy.’

“No, doll, it’s-” he began to sputter apologetically, earning teasing laughs from the group.

“Cool it, Romeo, I’m kidding,” Y/N grinned taking his beer from his hand and taking a swig.

“You have got this man whipped,” Sam sang teasingly.

“How many times are you going to say that, Wilson? No, really? How many more do you have left in you? Can we get an estimate?” Tony sarcastically asked.

“Yeah, Wilson,” Bucky chimed with a satisfied grin.

Tony turned to him and tutted, “I’m not defending you. You’re whipped. I’m just tired of hearing Wilson chirping it all the damn time like a fucking parrot.”

Sam’s brows raised before a coy look befell upon his features. “So it’s not the fact that I’m saying it, it’s the tune? Well why you ain’t say that, man? I can fix that right now, hold on, look.” He cleared his throat in preparation.

“Alright, alright,” Y/N cut in with a loud laugh, “We don’t need none of that, Sam...Anyways, what’s goin’ on gang? How’s everybody been?”

It was a simple inquiry, but it was a question that had kicked off the entire night, as it often did. They spent time dishing on their love lives, family lives, personal lives. They had been a close-knit group before Y/N came into the picture—very close...and they hadn’t collectively accepted her with open arms at first. They weren’t unpleasant, but she could tell they were guarded. Wanda was welcoming, by far the sweetest out of the bunch. She assured her that the group would warm up to her...it would just take some time.

“Look, Bucky, I don’t know about this.”

“C’mon, what’s the big deal, doll face. We both know they’re all gonna love ya! Plus, you’ll be hangin’ with me, so you know you’ll have a good time,” the blue eyed devil winked playfully.

“You don’t think it’s too soon?”

“Too soon?” he scoffed, brows furrowing. “Never too soon to meet the gang! These are the people I spend the most time with—they’re like family!”

“Family? Buck…” She stood between  his legs. He was seated on the edge of his bed, her hands resting gently on his shoulders.

“Not my real family, but you know. Friend family.” The cool metal fingertips of his left hand gently ghosted across the bare skin of the back of her thigh.

“Still family. What if they don’t like me?”

“Then they’re bigger dumbasses than I thought.”

“I don’t think I’m hardcore enough for these people. They all have Harley’s and cool jackets,” she pointed out factually, lips pursing. “I don’t got that shit.”

“You’re hardcore enough for me,” Bucky grinned that wolfish grin of his. “You like it real hardcore, huh, doll?” he asked teasingly, bringing her down onto the bed with him in one abrupt, swift motion. He began tickling her relentlessly, “Say it, doll! Say it: ‘I’m hardcore!’” He had her in a fit of side-splitting giggles. The sound of her laugh was like a symphony in his ears. It was a beautifully contagious sound, he found himself laughing too. “I’m not gonna stop ‘til you say it!”

“I’m—” the giggles kept her from finishing the phrase.

“You’re what?” he asked mockingly. “Hurry up, dollface! My hands are gettin’ real tired.”

“I’m hardcore!” she shouted, her chest heaving as his hands left her body. Her hands flew up to wipe the tears from her eyes, her laughter slowly subsiding. “Get off of me you fucking neanderthal. I can’t breathe.”

He chuckled and climbed off of her. He pressed a sloppy, lingering kiss to her lips. “So you’ll come. They’ll love ya. You said it yourself, you’re hardcore.”

“Gang, this is Y/N,” Bucky introduced her happily. “Y/N this is...well, everybody.”

She received a collective murmur of hellos and heys as a response. She caught a pretty redhead’s eye for a moment and she smiled. The redhead scowled in response. Y/N noticed the weary look in the broad shouldered, bearded man’s eyes. What did that mean?

The group dispersed on their own after a brief, unexciting conversation amongst themselves and Y/N,  some heading to the kitchen to get drinks, others going off to mingle with other partygoers.

Buck smiled at her, “I think that went fairly well.”

“Could’ve been worse,” Y/N shrugged before she herself left to grab a drink.

At the party that evening, Y/N felt completely out of place. Bucky, being the gentleman he was, was hesitant to leave her side when she told him to go mingle with his friends. It took a little convincing, but she finally got him to leave her alone—she couldn’t look like some wimp that wasn’t capable of making her own friends. While she knew she had to go out on a limb here and approach them herself, she wasn’t striving to please anyone. She wanted them to like her, but she wasn’t willing to go out of her way to make herself especially likable tonight.

“Y/N,” someone called out to her above the thrum of the music. She turned to see one of Buck’s friends approaching her. A girl with long brown hair, a very pretty smile on her face. “Hey, you’re one of Bucky’s friends. I’m sorry I didn’t get your name.”

“I’m Wanda,” she introduced herself, a toothy grin on her face.

“Wanda,” Y/N repeated. “Buck talks about you a lot.”

“All good things I hope.”

Y/N smiled, “Oh, always. He speaks very highly of you,”

“He speaks highly of you too, y’know? You’re all we hear about. It’s always Y/N this, Y/N that...That man...he’s gone. You’ve got him.”

A betraying heat rushed to her cheeks as she tried to hide her sheepish little grin. Bucky talked about her to his friends? That was a normal thing to do...why did it make her so tingly and warm inside?

“Oh, I hope I’m not freaking you out...he just...he really likes you, that’s all. Bucky doesn’t tend to like women enough to want to keep them around for too long, you know?”

“I didn’t, but now I do I guess,” she laughed.

“Yeah, uh, don’t tell him I told you that...it’s just the few times he has invested in a girl...girls are mean,” she concluded. It was enough for Y/N to understand what she meant. They were weary of him getting hurt again, which made sense. No one ever wants to see their friends get hurt, especially at the hands of another. “Anyways, I just wanted to tell you that I’m happy he has you...and...don’t mind everyone else, okay? Mostly Steve, he’s protective over him. Nat too.” Wanda shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly and offered another one of those warm smiles. “They’ll warm up to you, just give it some time. They’re real nice people.”

“No, no, no,” Nat objected quickly, waving her hands dismissively. “How many times do I have to tell you this? You guys don’t get to talk about sex. You’re fucking each other,” she exclaimed.

It was nearing eleven o’clock now. The gang had been there for hours, talking about absolutely everything and nothing all at the same time. The found themselves squished in the same booth, those who couldn’t fit pulled up chairs near the booth. Y/N was wedged between Bucky, who had his arm wrapped around her protectively, and Steve.

“What does that have to do with anything? I’ve heard eighty million of your guys’ sex stories,” Y/N responded.

“But, we know both of y’all. Not just one,” Sam explained factually as if it were a science. “It’s just different.”

“She likes it rough,” Bucky stated, wiggling his eyebrows as he looked amongst his group of friends.

“Yes, we’ve heard,” Sam sneered, his nose wrinkling in disgust. A similar look graced Steve’s face, who, despite his facial hair and longer locks, had a very boyish manner about him. Y/N sunk in her seat, her face flushing with an embarrassed glow. “Oh, no—don’t act all shy now. You wasn’t shy when you was doin’ all that yellin’ and moanin’ at Tony’s New Year’s party.”

Thor laughed, his broad shoulders shaking with every eb of laughter. “Oh, Bucky—Oh my God, Buck—ow!” His eyes averted to Bucky, who had kicked him beneath the table. “Not necessary.”

“So, since you two are so open to airing out your dirty laundry, let me ask you this,” began Tony, “when are you two gonna tie the knot?”

“Tie what knot?” Y/N glanced up at Bucky with a playful glint in her eye before she took a few fries from the plate in the middle of the table. They were eating in attempt to sober up enough to make their short rides home.

“The marriage knot.”

“We don’t call her wifey for nothin’,” Sam chirped. There was a pause. Y/N had an inexplicably coy little smile on her lips. She and Buck had only barely discussed the prospect of marriage, though she was very enamored with the idea of being his wife. She stuffed a couple more fries into her mouth, as her friends looked at her expectantly. She turned her gaze to Bucky, she mirrored their expectant gazes.

“Yeah, Buck. When you plan on tying me down for good, huh?”

“Who’s to say I didn’t plan on doing it tonight, hm?” he asked, his eyes narrowing as he peered down at her.

She rolled her eyes playfully. “Shut up, James.”

“If I asked you to marry me right now, what would you say?”

“I’d say...no, probably,” she teased.

Bucky nodded slowly, began digging in the pocket of his jeans. “In that case,” he began, a cheeky grin coming to his lips as the entire table was silenced. “Y/N Y/L/N,” he was still digging in his pocket. “Will you do me the honor of putting my phone in your purse?” From his pocket he pulled his cellphone and placed it on the table in front of them. There was a mischievous grin on his face. “Please?”

“You damn bastard.”

He got a lot of shit for that one. Steve was convinced he was going to see a proposal and was extremely let down. Tony was just pissed. Sam thought it truly was a “dick move”. Wanda and Nat both said they would kill him, if Y/N desired. Thor thought it was funny.

The conversation changed topic shortly afterwards, returning to raunchy stories of the sexual escapades of the group. And though Y/N loved nothing more than laughing it up at the expense of her friends past sexual ventures, the idea of marrying Bucky was awfully prominent in her mind. She knew it wouldn’t change anything for them. They already lived together, they shared everything. She adored him, she loved him. He loved her too. She didn’t need a ring to prove that love to herself or to him or to anyone else...but still...it was such a magical idea. Was it cliche to think that?

“I think I’ll marry you someday,” Bucky slurred as he walked clumsily into the house, using Y/N as support.

“You’re super drunk, Buck.”

“I mean it. No really, I do,” he insisted with a crooked smile. His eyes were barely open. She led him into the kitchen and handed him a cup of water.

“Drink that.”

“Y/N, doll face, I’m serious.”

She leaned her back against the sink, arms crossed over her chest while she watched the drunken man take tentative sips of his water, his tall figure swaying just slightly. It had been about six months since the couple had began dating. Never in her life had she seen him drunk like this. He was a man who could hold his liquor, she supposed he must’ve gotten carried away—or most likely, Thor had brought that good shit. Within the few months of their relationship it had been difficult getting him to open up, she learned that his feelings, specifically his feelings for her, poured out of him when he was drunk. She wondered if that would ever change.

“Are you listening?” he placed the glass on the counter and stumbled across the kitchen over to her, his hands resting on the edges of the counter on either side of her. He was closing her in, leaving her no room for escape.

“Mhm, I’m listening, James.”

“I love it when you call me that...when you call me by my name. It’s different when you say it.”

Y/N could not hide her grin, her hands reaching up to cup either side of his face. He leaned his head lovingly into her touch, a sigh leaving his lips, his breath tart with the heavy smell of the alcohol.

“Let’s go to bed, yeah?”

“Only...only if you’ll say you’ll marry me.”

“Not tonight I won’t.”

“Some other night then, huh doll?” he asked, his innocent tone almost making her wish that she had said yes the first time.

“Yeah, baby, some other night.”

Bucky gently squeezed Y/N’s shoulder, he brought his lips closer to her ear. It was nearing twelve thirty now. “You wanna get out of here?” She nodded in reply, her head tilting back slightly to rest against his chest.

“Alright guys, we’re gonna head out,” he announced. They slid out of the booth together, one after the other.

“I’ll see y’all later, alright?” Y/N smiled at those who remained in the booth and gave a little wave. Despite her attempts to say goodbye were missed though, the group before her shared a collective gasp, their eyes focused on something behind her. She turned to find that Bucky was no longer standing, but was down on one knee.

Her breath hitched audibly in her throat. What the hell? Her hands flew up to her mouth as she looked down at him. There was an earnest smile on his lips and his eyes shone like the most beautiful blue jewels she’d ever seen. There was a stillness in the air that made her heart race. This couldn’t be real.

Bucky reached into the pocket of his leather jacket, that earnest expression shifting into one of pure confusion as he pulled out a pack of gum. He looked to the group and then back to his girl. “What? I bent down to tie up my shoe, then I found some bubblegum in my pocket.”

From behind her, Y/N could hear Steve muttering, “You fucking punk.” Steve was not one to swear.

She dropped her hands from her mouth, they were now balled up into fists at her sides. If she was a little crazier she might have punched the shit out of him. When he stood he towered over her. Perhaps that would have been intimidating if she wasn’t so pissed. “You’ve gotta be really evil to do some shit like this, you got me excited for nothing!” she accused angrily, though there was a hint of a grin threatening to curl at her lips.

“You want a piece?” he offered, holding out the pack to her.

She did not hesitate to hit it out of his hand, “No I don’t want none of your bullshit gum! What the fuck?”

“What? You said no earlier, now I know you’d say yes,” he teased. He knew she would have said yes tonight or any other night that he might have chosen to ask her. He just enjoyed being an asshole sometimes.

“Whoop his ass, Y/N!” Sam exclaimed from behind her. His statement was met with a clamor of vocalized agreement from the others.

“I love you, baby doll,” he cooed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side. He pressed a kiss to the side of her head as he began to lead her towards the door.

“I should punch you in your face right now,” she shook her head in incredulous disbelief. She and the entire group, had fallen for the same trick twice in the same night. “So you plan on actually proposing sometime or what? I promise you will die if you do this again.”

“Is that a threat?”

“That’s exactly what it is.”

“Alright, fine. Soon, I think.”

“You think?”

“Actually, I know.”

“Alright then when?” 

“Dollface, you’ll never see it comin’. It’ll be when you least expect it.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’ll let you do that when we get home,” he winked.

[theoraclehealer]

Jung, mysticism and psychopomp signature.

Sept 28, 2017

chiron and carl jung

and the zodiac signs

taurus has to ascend. what does that even mean, right?

as i sat with this, i imagined somehow seeing a taurus - bull - rise up into the air and go up the heavens. I’m clueless.

so i sat with this some more and thought about the introvert, as she seems to be in need of the most help here.

there always comes a time when i have these breathing episodes and everything runs amok.

for example:

ok, how bad is this?

how bad will this be?

and then i have to sit with it and see if i reach a point where it will just stop or carry on for a bit longer. this morning’s episode was awful (i still blame the seroquel). there are many tricks that i will try - reasoning my way through it, sounds, rescue remedy, coffee, water, contemplation, whatever … but then ill even try talking to myself but out loud, pretending someone is there with me.

focus has been a BIG theme here … but now I’m realizing that its actually human connection.

so ill talk out loud and see if that works.

but this morning was difficult - it changed a lot but was also more stubborn until i started to realize just how bad this sheer terror is that i have around death.

i contemplated a couple of times whether or not i wanted to call 9/11 but that proved to be problematic for a few reasons - one namely, i was home alone and was stuck upstairs so i couldn’t really go all the way down stairs and then upstairs and then change my clothes, find my shoes, make sure the dogs were okay, etc.

but in my mind, it was clear to me that i just wanted someone around and sadly, other than my mom, EMS workers are my only shot. 

how difficult is it to heal from all of this … on my own?

narcissistic abuse … emotional deficits all over the place … sheer terror … profound rejection 

and yet no one to look to in the eye.

no one to “pull you out of it” when you need it the most. 

so it could be that the introvert would have gotten hurt at any time because in the end, she’s the traumatized one. and now in order to get taurus to ascend, i have to find her and tell her it’s okay … but ask me if i believe that it will be?

theres a chakra component here though and as i started to type this, i felt the shift in my lower chakras rise. i saw a red/pink light in the distance.

i have lost the passion for life and living. because my life was taken from me. all of it. blindsided and then burned. you wake up and its ALL gone because YOU understand the gravity of the disaster that you will now have to face, its a sense of knowing. 

the people around me are tired to me.

i was in love with something before. it wasn’t a man but it was … the air. the moon. the sun. and the stars. 

isn’t it great? she thought. 

and now the world around HER this time, not God … has grown dark. 

its take a great amount of effort to get out of the house.

because i generally don’t care.

whats in it for me?

so i drifted off to the left, to look around and think.

i realized the contemplative aspect of me has also severely suffered. another I in NFP.

but it was then that i realized who she was and we reconnected.

morissey’s - how soon is now? ran through my head.

then out of the corner of my eye, i could see my phone lighting up but it wasn’t a notification - it was red, orange and yellow - and i heard “its a bird” and by the flames that encompassed this image, i could tell it was the phoenix. i smiled.

my left arm said “i want my life back”

and was happy for about a few seconds but then stopped because … life.

the magic doesn’t uplift me anymore.

i want to be concrete for a time and see that life can be mine again. but i feel like i am owed something … from someone and yet all avenues are shut.

chiron told me i had a job to do.

isn’t that always the case?

even if i found $50,000 and i moved out … my health is still bad. the nebulizer is the bane of my existence.

i have gone through so many phases where i THINK I’m going to ween myself off of it and then there’s a kick back … of something i don’t understand … but last time, i blame the sleep study. and again, even as smart as i am and as intuitive as i am … with my history, someone should have stepped in and said “no way … lets talk this out instead because you matter”.

everything comes … after the fact.

even the help.

—————

things worth mentioning bc it gets so sticky throughout the day - i have been having upper back pain and have had to lay on the floor and hearing some pops around my neck but the pain is around c4. i suspect the seroquel relaxed things TOO much and through this nerve into a mess. laying down doesn’t help but sleeping in the chair is causing numbness and tingling in my hands again. I’m getting pain in my infraspinatus - both sides. this can be the only thing that i can think of that causes weird and sudden attacks, randomly.

the episodes take forever to resolve. and the pain at SI9 gets worse when i have these episodes ... very local and sharp pain.

something else to note, i don’t know the stages in which the healing happens ... with the vertebrae ... passions and love ... C4 ... insane heartbreak and emotional neglect and lack of emotional support.

and then things calm down, after i get so angry because of the physical damage/repair thats STILL happening ... and you realize just how  many layers you have to build UP and not work through ... to get to the emotional body ... and where intuition comes from as you’re doing acupuncture on a client and you see a blue/purple small round light appear on your left pointer finger and you hear “john lennon” is your intuitive guider of principles long forgotten like “love is all you need” because love makes you feel like you can overcome ANY of your demons. Victor said that when we were talking last year, that he felt more stable.

——

hindsight is 20-20 right?

Elizabeth Thorson told me that unless i get grounded, I’m not going to know what work I’ve done will stick.

That was …. about 8 months ago and THIS is how long its taking me … after her esteemed shamans all failed.

“love is all you need”

———————-

so at the end of the day, this has not been an uplifting journey. and i have a new definition of “enlightenment”.

but I just did a search online for remedies for herniated discs and came across st johns wort oil and elderberry.

i had been told by “myself” that i didn’t need the elderberry anymore.

funny enough, muscle pain and tension has been an issue ever since … and thats exactly what one website said it helps with. 

pisces sabotage. 

and where has the help from the other dimensions been for this?

and whats a firefly? and why was it getting in my way today?

this is all going to end up wrapping up and i have no say in anything. it has to happen and i don’t want to stay like this but there is no book or teacher that i have here on earth to reassure me that things are indeed winding down.

my entire life has been trauma. and many things happen suddenly. my death happened suddenly and has been MORE trauma.

I’m running into problems talking to some clients about things like … their grief bc instinctually, i pull from experience and can only be as “fake” honest as i can be, knowing they’re not going through what I’m going through. 

but when the extra energy and interference is gone, what work is left for me to do? how quiet will life be? will it be a rough transition? and how much longer will i be alone? my mouth keeps saying … as if being fed words from the left … but think of how fruitful your life is going to be! and i go … prove it.

——

and as i try to just sit with what i just wrote, i also sit with one of my other selves who seems to be championing me … trying to tell me that she’s going to help me take melatonin tomorrow … and if she’s not here, to take it at 9pm.

THIS alone triggers my biggest fear but i should be allowed to …. SIT.

my eyes go to the keyboard … “christine’s biggest fear is coming up! meows!”

and now i have that on my mind … unless i just keep typing. 

but is the electricity too much for me today?

FUCK.

spiritual awakening or spirit murder? this journey has been horrible. 

————

lets talk. 

so you’re all full of shit.

I’ve been astral traveling day in and day out to heal … myself.

taoist astral gods of healing. 

i can call on whomever i need in a pinch.

but i “step outside” of myself to try and gain a different perspective right?

but she sees things i cannot.

i just wish there was more information because then i would have been more willing … and just allowed it to happen with an understanding. 

theres other things going on that i am “feeling” out … and i suspect MY spirits are the ones swirling around, swiping shit away. 

i started to become more and more suspicious of “the spirits reside within” … until you derail in the most horrifying way possible and they have to step in and do the work.

“we want our girl back!!!”   - said to Petra who didn’t spend any time in exploring this with me. i dissociated but i didn’t black out. i heard the whole thing. she just watched …. and probably thought “ohhhh a case study … how freudian”

so who’s in my eyes?

I’ve already suspected a few things here … but i get the shen, liver, gall bladder and the bladder and the eyes. 

i get that the shen scatter with trauma but something is a-miss.

——

earlier today, twice at least, i thought of arielle and her death. she died in her sleep. and i had been talking to a client about this tonight and said that we all have these experiences, day in and day out and while its not easy (she was struggling with losing her friend recently), its better to allow yourself the time to process it. i had shared with her the complications of dealing with my own death and coma, along with dealing and processing arielle’s. she died in her sleep and i fear dying in my sleep … and its two-fold because i now have a coma to contend with. its hard to figure this one out as its a lot of imagery more so than words attached to a feeling … and this could be the curse of an empath.

she was so young. when she initially came through, whether it was her or not, i was feeling something different towards her than others … i was shut down a bit and well, on some level, feeling at one with her. 

“hey - hows it going - this shit is nuts right?”

“I’m sorry you’re dead, arielle.”

you’re DEAD.

[tinfoil-jones]

Motorcity: Join Me, Epilogue

Disclaimer: I do not own Motorcity or the listed characters Title: Join Me Rating: T+ Summary: AU, Chuck and Mike never met in Deluxe; Chuck is leader of the Burners and Mike is still Kane’s Commander. Despite being enemies, Chuck and Mike find themselves having feelings for each other, but are both too stubborn to leave their sides of Detroit. Pairings: MikexChuck, DutchxTennie, FoxyxClaire(implied) Warnings: Don’t read if you don’t like or are triggered by violence or dystopian societies Author’s Note: For the sake of the AU to work Chuck is OOC and some events have been slightly changed.

~~~ 20: Present Trauma.

‘Six months already… where has time gone?’ Mike thought as he crossed out another day on the calendar in the bay. His black and orange jacket lay haphazardly on the hood of his car, Mutt as he’s christened it six months ago, to prevent getting grease stains on it while he worked under the car for minor repairs.

It’d been six months since the incident with the Genesis Pod; after Kane had flung them off of his war pod, he and Chuck had been falling to their deaths when the Duke of Detroit saved them using Chuck’s car Blonde Thunder, after ejecting the Duke Chuck had to be and backseat driver and hacker while the Pod was blasted by the last laser blast of ‘Bessie’, however in the chaos, Blonde Thunder was destroyed and Mike and Chuck were saved by a motorcycle fail-safe the blond had installed.

The battle was over in their favor, but the war was not.

For one thing, Chuck was horrendously injured - aside from his self-treated and rapidly returned hemopneumothorax, he also had head trauma, his synthetic left eye was busted, and his ribs were unsurprisingly broken. He had to be hospitalized.

Mike stayed by his side despite the other Burner’s being wary of his presence (minus Julie), for almost two weeks; Chuck was silent and despondent the whole time, having not said a single word to anyone. On day twelve of the Burner Leaders hospital stay, Mike had left the bedside for a minute to go take a leak, and when he came back Chuck was gone. Frantically he searched around the hospital, but video evidence proved that Chuck had escaped through the fourth story window and disappeared into the darkness of the nearby alleyways. With their leader gone, the remaining Burner’s had even more reason to not trust Mike, and they’d probably would have cast him aside like garbage if it wasn’t for Julie vouching for him. So he’d been taken in as a Burner, and was made their new leader no less than two months later.

Since Chuck had handed him the keys to the green car when he was prisoner, and because Blonde Thunder was totally destroyed and had only been fully rebuilt a week ago, Mike took the green car and finally gave it a proper name. The Burners had looked for Chuck for three months before finally giving up their search; Chuck was smart, if he didn’t want to be found there was no way they would find him. They could only hope that he was doing okay. Mike, however, hadn’t quite given up the hope of finding him. He’d search during his off-hours, and had exhausted almost every lead so far, even the LARPer’s hadn’t seen him, although admittedly during his time of searching Mike had become good friends with the role-playing group, and occasionally played D&D with them. “It’s been three years you know.” The rusty voice of Jacob said from behind him, making the brunet turn to the older man.

“Three years?” Mike inquired as he put his jacket back on - it no longer had the bandana wrapped around the Burners symbol on his arm, but he always kept the bandana in his pocket anyways.

“Since Chuck became a Buner.” Jacob told him, the older mans voice had a bittersweet tone to it.

“I see…” Mike replied, looking to the ground, slightly enough that only someone as close as Jacob could notice. In response, the Sasquatch driver put a comforting hand on the younger mans shoulder.

“You know… He really loved you.” Jacob consoled.

Mike cleared his throat “Clearly not enough.” Not even his support could keep Chuck with them.

“Now, now,” Jacob chided as he put a plate of bright green muffins on the hood of Mutt “you need to understand, Chuck had demons.”

“Demons?”

“Demon’s in his head my boy,” Jacob explained “Mental illness is something either tucked away or purged in Deluxe, so you tend to not hear about it much. But I believe Chuck had PTSD…” Seeing the confused look on Mike’s face, Jacob continued to explain “It stands for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder… It’s where a person is affected by a traumatic event, and effects them to the point of growing distant from loved ones, no longer enjoying previously loved activities, and having recurring stress and panic from the event, as if it’s still happening. I could see it in Chuck’s eye… He had what was called the ‘thousand yard stare’.”

Mike thought about what Jacob was saying, and applied it to Chuck; it was true, Chuck didn’t talk, but his eye would stare out blankly into space, almost as if he was looking right through everything. Not to mention Chuck did go through a lot of trauma in one day; being double crossed by the Duke, being captured and beaten half to death by Red, almost executed, having his entire city almost destroyed, then flung off a building and would have been killed if not for the quick intervention of the Duke himself. “But… Why just him… Why not me, or Julie, or…” Mike trailed off; he and the other Burners went through similar, why was Chuck the one fated to be struck by such a condition? “Everyone’s different, Mike.” Jacob told him “It doesn’t make anyone stronger or weaker. The best we can do is understand that it’s not his fault, and accept that’s how he is, and try to help him.”

Mike sighed “I’m going for a drive…” He picked up the muffins and put them in a brown paper bag, it’d be rude to throw them away even if they did look and smell disgusting. “Remember to call if anything comes up…” Jacob told him. “Of course.”

—

Once again a search through Motorcity yielded nothing.

By the time night came, Mike was tired and hungry, because he dare not eat the muffins given to him by Jacob, and ended up stopping at a fast food place. He didn’t bother to read the name of the food place, but when he walked in he was hit with familiarity. It was the same Burger Joint that he and Chuck had met when they started their relationship, it made his heart ache for more reasons than the greasy oil smell already clogging up his arteries.

He sat down to order a burger, fries and coke, which came immediately. He stayed at the counter and mostly kept to himself while he ate, and couldn’t help but overhear the conversation of some nearby patrons because they had no idea how to control the volume of their voices.

“Yeah Tory’s always willing to trade,” One of the patrons, a tanned girl with straight black hair said “he’s got good shit. Not for free though, I’ll tell ya.”

“Can I get tech from ‘im?” A male with curly brown hair asked. “Yeah. But only for whatever part he wants. He’s that guy with the eyepatch who hangs out in Lower Woodward.”

Mike’s attention was immediately caught - eyepatch? As in, one eye? Chuck had left the hospital before Jacob had finished his replacement bionic eye… It was far fetched, because people with missing body parts aren’t exactly unheard of in Motorcity, but it was the biggest clue he’d gotten so far. — Lower Woodward was, unsurprisingly, even more slummy than most parts of Motorcity. Now, income distribution wasn’t exactly great considering that there was a very small wealthy class, small middle class, and majority poor, but it was clear that that particular part of the city was populated completely by the very poor. At first Mike doubted that Chuck would be in such a squalid and possibly hostile area, but realized that it made sense, as it would be unlikely anyone would hide in such an area by choice.

The former military officer parked his car and made sure his security system was up to prevent theft or looting, and began walking down the street with his head down. Months of fighting Kane and the Burners were well known, even Mike at this point, but even with his infamy he didn’t doubt that there were a sizable amount of Motorcitizens who did not trust him or wouldn’t mind giving him a well-deserved beating.

His suspicions were confirmed when a seedy-looking man began following him, but Mike ignored him and kept his head down as he continued to weave about the streets, but every time he got a glance behind him, there were more and more shady characters, accumulating to form a gang of sorts.

Mike stopped when he came to a wire fence that split an alley in half and made an end “What’s up?” He asked calmly as he executed an about-face, not losing his military bearing to the face of the gang. If there’s one thing Mike was, he was honest (at least now), he wasn’t going to hide who or what he was to anybody. “Mike Chilton.” One of the men spat.

“That’s me,” Mike confirmed with his iconic grin but serious eyes “and how can I help you today?”

“Everybody’s been saying you’ve reformed,” another man spoke, with a voice heavy with hatred an an obvious lifetime smoking habit “but once Kanes lapdog, always Kanes lapdog.” Oh boy, this again. While he couldn’t blame the Motorcitizens from their weariness of him, especially considering how he played a direct part in the war and battles between the two sides of Detroit in favor of Deluxe, he’d naively hoped six months was enough to win their trust. This hope just couldn’t be applied to everyone.

Mike dropped his grin and lifted his hands up passively, he could definitely fight them off without Mutt, after all he had his spark staff in his jacket at easy reach; but he didn’t want to create more distrust with the citizens of Motorcity if he could resolve this peacefully. “Look, I don’t want any trouble.”

“Then you should have just stayed in Deluxe or fucking died.” The original man growled, which did cut a little deep in Mike; he knew that people had died directly and indirectly from Kane’s attacks on the city, many of these attacks he’d been the directly overseer of. While he did believe he could redeem himself, there were just some things he knew were unforgivable.

The gang stepped closer “Please,” Mike said “that isn’t who I am now.” He wasn’t Kane Co’s commander anymore, he was Mike Chilton, just Mike Chilton. “I don’t care.” The first man said, reaching into his jacked presumably for a gun or knife, but Mike still didn’t reach for his spark staff.

“Well, I do.” Mike couldn’t help his grin returning at this new voice; new to the situation but not new to Mike. The fence was shoved slightly enough for a person to slip between the wire and the alley wall, and Mike couldn’t help but chuckle at how even after everything they’d gone through Chuck still had a flair for the ‘mysterious entrance’ he’d often pulled at his LARP club, with the cape and everything, judging by how worn the cape was now however, it was definitely part of his regular attire.

“This doesn’t have anything to do with you, Tory.” One of the men said to Chuck as the blond man stepped between Mike and the seedy gang.

“Leave.” Chuck said simply.

“Tory-”

“I said leave for fucks sake, I’ll deal with this guy.” Hesitantly, the group of men actually turned and left. There was a moment of silence as they waited for the group to be completely out of sight, as Chuck turned to face his old flame with his hands shoved into his cloak pockets. His hair was slightly longer, and wilder than it used to be but the bangs were still parted and for the most part out of his face. His missing eye hadn’t been replaced, as indicated by an black eyepatch, and from his face to what could be seen of his body shape through his hooded cloak was very gaunt even compared his original petite self. Still handsome as ever, at least in Mike’s eyes.

Silence, all Mike could hear was his heart beating all the way up to his ears. Chuck sighed heavily “Why are you here?” He demanded, f his hands were digging around his various pockets until he produced a cigarette and a lighter, throwing Mike off slightly.

“I-” He began, Chuck didn’t let him finish, he lit the cigarette and stuck it into one corner of his mouth and used one hand to physically start dragging Mike out of the alley.

“I can’t fucking believe you,” Chuck reprimanded, not bothering to look back at him as he dragged him. “I can’t believe you came here, don’t you known this is a dangerous neighborhood?”

“I wanted to find you.” Mike told him, and it seemed to make Chuck skip a step, but only slightly.

“I’m taking you to your car, where is it?” Chuck asked, and Mike stepped down and made them both stop.

“I want to talk to you.” The brunet told his former lover sternly, rolling his wrist out of Chuck’s grasp, now that they were in close proximity Mike could study Chuck’s features more clearly; his cheeks were pale and seemingly bloodless as they no longer held a rosy tint, and his good eye was dark ringed, his neck and face had a few bruises that didn’t seem to be too fresh and there were some healed scratches scattered about his jawline and forehead. Clearly he’d been in several scraps over the six months he’d been gone. “…What happened to you Chuck? Why did you leave? Why didn’t you come back?”

“I don’t have to tell you anything.” Chuck practically growled, taking a long drag of his cigarette before looking to the side to blow the smoke out. “Look, I don’t know what you were hoping to accomplish by coming here. It’s been half a year Mike, if I wanted to come back I would’ve, if I wanted you to find me you would have a long time ago. So just do us both a favor and get lost.”

“You know I can’t do that Chuck.” Mike told him gently, placing a hand on his arm that Chuck thankfully didn’t shake off.

Chuck was quiet for a solid minute, the cigarette was in his hand but he was not longer actively smoking it, instead he was just looking down at the Burner with a sad eye. “…I know you can’t, and won’t.” Chuck said with a sad sigh “I’m sorry Mike… I’m not going back.”

“Can we please just talk…” Chuck didn’t answer, he took one more drag of the cigarette before flicking it away. “I missed you…” The blond stiffened up slightly, and Mike knew it was because Chuck had a hard time dealing with emotions. “…We can talk. Just not here.”

…

Chuck’s place was an apartment in a small complex, it was… kind of nice, given the area they were in, it had a small kitchen, living room, one bathroom and two bedrooms, although by the looks of it only one bedroom was being used as a bedroom while the other one seemed to be a room dedicated to Chuck’s technological side.

“How’d you afford this place?” Mike asked Chuck as the blond draped his cloak over the back of a chair - he wore an elbow-sleeved shirt very similar to the one he used to wear, except this was mainly dark blue with black sleeves and lacked the Burners insignia.

“I work human resources at a nearby tech firm.” Chuck answered, plopping down at his couch.

“Shouldn’t you be a programmer?” Mike asked, trying to lighten the mood as he sat at the other side of the couch.

“Credentials don’t transfer very well from Deluxe.” Chuck answered dry and matter-of-fact.

Silence. They just sat there awkwardly as Chuck grabbed a remote and turned the TV on, Mike knew Chuck didn’t watch TV very much, background noise just made the blond feel less anxious.

“So…” Chuck trailed off awkwardly, looking to the floor instead of Mike “what do you want to talk about?”

“First off, why did you leave?” It was a touchy subject, Mike could tell from the apprehensive expression that immediately appeared on Chuck’s face, but it was first thing he needed to know, it was where this all began.

“B-because,” Chuck began defensively, taking in a deep breath to collect himself and his emotions but this only sent him into a coughing fit. Concerned and overwhelmed with protectiveness over the man he -still- loved, Mike scooted over next to him and put his arms around him, patting his back to attempt to alleviate his coughing “L-look it’s hard to explain, I was a shit leader okay.”

“You weren’t a bad leader Chuck.” Mike consoled.

“Don’t bullshit me!” Chuck snarled and nearly shoved him off “I got tricked by Duke! I’m a genius and I got outsmarted by a man that wears curlers to bed!”

“…” Okay, Mike wasn’t exactly sure how to respond to that.

“I knew he was up to something… maybe not what he was up to, but I knew it wasn’t good. All I had to do was agree to not help him, even if he left me in the depths all I had to do was follow him out. Hell, I could’ve agreed to help him, and then ditched. But I didn’t, Mike. I got captured by Kane, Motorcity was almost destroyed, my car was destroyed, me and you… We almost… Almost…” He started to choke up and a a distant, but distressed look appeared in his single blue eye.

The thousand-yard stare that Jacob had explained, that Chuck had the entirety of his visit at the hospital.

“I know, I know we almost died.” Mike drew his arms around Chuck again, pulling him in close, into a familiar embrace that they’d shared many times when they were together. “I know you’re hurt, I know you’ve gone through a lot, and I know you’re having a hard time with how you’re feeling.”

“Oh how would you know how I feel.” Chuck scoffed, but he didn’t pull away or push Mike off of him “You handled that situation a million times better than I did. You accepted the possibility of death so calmly, you took charge without skipping a beat, and here I am, a mess. You don’t understand Mike… You really don’t.”

Mike placed his cheek on top of Chuck’s head, normally awkward given their height difference but Chuck was practically laying on him in this position “You’re right Chuck… I don’t understand.” He murmured gently “I don’t know what it’s like to lose an eye, I don’t know what a tension pneumothorax feels like, I don’t know what it’s like to almost lose my city, until recently I didn’t know what it felt like to constantly be attacked by another government and neither did I understand what it really meant to be a leader. Those men earlier were right you know, I was Kane’s lapdog… I was the commander, but I was never truly a leader, everything I did, I did because Kane told me to, and I was too stubborn to believe it. So no Chuck, I don’t truly understand how you feel… But what I do know is that you’re still hurt, and I will always love you.”

Chuck started to sniffle, as his barriers finally started to come down, and his sniffling increased into he was full-blown sobbing into Mike’s chest, and gripping the edges of the others jacket either in a vain attempt to feel grounded or for the sake of comfort. “What I do know,” Mike continued, holding him in even closer, close enough he could feel the sobs racking the others body, close enough he could feel his heartbeat “is that I want to help you. I know that you have a lot of friends, who also want to help you, because they care about you a lot, and every single one of us just wants you back.” And for what must have been the good part of an hour, they just sat there with Chuck crying against him, and Mike holding him and occasionally rubbing his back or stroking his hair, no words spoken between them but there weren’t any words needed, Chuck needed to finally express his emotions and Mike just needed to know he was safe.

When his leg started to fall asleep Mike attempted to shift their position by sitting up straight, but this put them at an awkward angle and it put the weight distribution in Chuck’s favor, with Chuck not attempting to correct it and his death grip on Mike’s jacket made them fall on Chuck’s side of the couch with Chuck accidentally pulling Mike on top of him. Mike had to remove his arms from around Chuck and to avoid tumbling on him he planted them onto the couch on either side of Chuck but this just inadvertently put him in the straddling position. Awkwardly, and slightly blushing, Mike looked down at Chuck, who was still sniffling and the left side of his face was wet and sticky with tears. “Please…”

Mike started to pull away, but his interpretation of Chuck’s plea being to get off of him wasn’t what Chuck as intended, because the blond immediately wrapped his arms around his neck and pulled him in against him with enough force to tell Mike that despite his gaunt appearance Chuck was definitely a lot physically stronger than he used to be.

“Please don’t go.” Chuck whispered to him - lying chest-to-chest Mike wasn’t sure if the strong beating was his own or Chucks, but in hindsight it was probably both. Their faces were practically touching and Mike could see that even with the sclera being bloodshot, Chuck’s good eye wasn’t as hazy as it seemed earlier, it was the pretty maya-blue color that Mike had in the past gotten lost and almost drowned it. One of them initiated a kiss, neither was sure who.

And history repeated itself as the two men so completely lost in each other and passion that the rest of the world seemed to melt away.

—

A beeping in the distance cause Mike to open his eyes with a struggle, when he finally did get them open the room was too dark for him to make anything else except for the soft glow of the TV from the living room leaking through the slightly open door of Chuck’s bedroom. Chuck was still asleep next to him and had his head resting on Mike’s arm, which explained why his arm was asleep. Muttering to himself and shifting gently as not to wake Chuck, the Burner rolled out of the bed and wrapped a towel around his waist for the sake of modesty and gently tiptoed to the living room where his jacket was strewn on the floor, he picket the garment on, but zipped it to create the illusion he wasn’t buck naked, and turned his communicator on. The head icon of Dutch appeared and the sudden appearance of bright light in the dimly lit room made Mike have to blink repeatedly.

“Mike! Where the heck are you man? You’ve been gone all day! Don’t tell me you got yourself lost in the depths again.” Mike just tiredly nodded as he seated himself onto the couch.

“Look I’m fine and I’m not lost I just uh… I just ended up further away than I intended and it got too late to turn back, I’m in a motel.” Mike explained, of course it was a lie but he wasn’t going to betray Chuck’s trust so soon “I’ll be back tomorrow, okay?”

“Are you sure you don’t want us to get you? Our tracking device is saying you’re in Woodworth, and that place is shady even for Motorcity.”

“I’m okay, I promise.” Mike waved off the Whiptail drivers concern “I’m going back to sleep, see you tomorrow Dutch.” And before the other Burner could protest or put another word in, Mike shut off his communicator. Yawning, he gathered up the clothes strewn about and returned to Chuck’s bedroom where the hacktivist was thankfully still out like a brick.

Placing the clothes on a dresser, Mike carefully climbed back onto the bed where his partner automatically rolled back onto lying on his arm, which was pretty cute even though Mike would definitely wake up with his arm asleep again, but he didn’t mind too much.

With his free arm he rested his hand on Chuck’s cheek, gently pushing his wild bangs out of his face “I’ll always be here for you, no matter what you’re going through.” He promised, even though Chuck was asleep. As if in response the former Burner snuggled closer to him, and Mike joined him in slumber.

—

“I don’t know, Mike…” Chuck trailed off as they walked down the street. “Aren’t they going to… I don’t know, freak out if they see me again.”

“Maybe a little bit, but in a good way.” Mike told him with a grin “The Burners missed you a lot, especially Texas.”

“I’m not surprised, he just isn’t the same guy if he isn’t taunting me to my face.” Chuck joked a little, although his tone was mostly flat. It was a start though, a definite sign that he was starting to warm up.

They stopped in front of Mutt, which was untouched, the car had a top notch defense system even when idle, which was how it survived the whole night without having it’s tires or undercarriage parts stolen.

“So you use the green car now huh.”

“Mutt.”

“Excuse me?”

“I named it Mutt.”

“Oh.”

They stood awkwardly by the car, and Mike started to notice the beginnings of a thousand-yard stare returning to Chuck’s eye. “Hey, what’s wrong.”

“I-I,” Chuck took in a deep breath “I-I’m scared of driving.” That was a shock to Mike, as Chuck loved driving, and he’d loved his car, and he was the one to introduce Mike to cars in the first place. However… it sadly did make a lot of sense, as Blonde Thunders destruction had saved Motorcity but would have killed them if not for the motorcycle fail-safe. The whole even had been so traumatic of course he could barely even be near a car.

“Hey, that’s okay,” Mike assured him, grabbing his hand and giving it a gentle squeeze “you take the figurative back seat on this, and literal passenger seat. I’ll drive us back - and very carefully.” Normally Mike was a speed demon when it came to driving, but seeing just how jittery Chuck was he was definitely following the posted speed limit this time.

“I-I still don’t know… I… I tried once but…” Chuck explained, having a hard time putting into words why exactly he was having such a hard time around something he used to enjoy.

“But you went through something traumatic and now you don’t enjoy this anymore, Chuck it’s fine if driving scares you, it’s okay. I’m asking if you can trust me.” Mike told him gently, but Chuck was definitely still jittery. An idea came to him and Mike opened the passenger door and reached inside, grabbing a paper bag “You really liked these didn’t you?” He handed Chuck the bag, and although initially confused Chuck practically lit up seeing familiar bright green muffins inside the bag.

“Are these-”

“Yup, okra and mayonnaise.”

Chuck straight up ate a whole muffin in what must have been one swallow and no chewing, Mike would have been impressed if he wasn’t already so familiar with the capabilities of others throat. It took a little bit more coaxing, but eventually Mike got Chuck into the passenger seat.

He took the drivers seat and buckled in, but instead of starting Mutt up right away, Mike looked over to the hacker, who was breathing heavily with anxiety. “Just tell me when you’re ready,” Mike consoled, reaching over to grab his hand again.

“Do y-you care if I can never drive again?” Chuck asked between quick, anxious breaths. The brunet used his thumb to soothingly rub the back of his shaking hand. And he waited until Chuck had calmed down a little before he answered. “I’d love it if you could drive again, but only if you’re comfortable doing it. If you never drive again, I don’t mind as long as you’re by my side; whether it be in my passenger seat, or in a comm screen.”

“Thank you Mike…” Chuck took in one last deep breath “I think I’m ready.”

“Thank you for joining me today.” Mike replied with a grin, and put the skull of his spark staff on the stick shift, bringing to Mutt to life.

THE END… Go home.

[miraculousturtle]

dealership stories

SO TODAY IS PART GOOD NEWS AND PART DEALERSHIP STORY FUCKERY. LIKE. I CANNOT. CAN. NOT. WITH TODAY.

it’s like god woke up today and went: hmmmm. ana has been a good human kinda. time to shake her day up. SHAKE HER DAY UP. I MAKE IT SO.

Where to start? Let’s just make a shit sandwhich and begin with some dealership fuckery. 

(BUT THIS STORY ENDS ON THE MOST WILDEST OF RIDES I PROMISE UNDER THE CUT)

So. This customer has this car that’s totally messed up. like on the way over for her appointment on friday, the car died and had to be towed in because the BATTERY HAD NO JUICE BECAUSE THE CAR IS THAT SHITTY AND THE OWNER DOESN’T DRIVE IT.

 well, that’s fine. we charge that sucker up, do the airbag recall, and i’m trying to sell them brakes. brakes are an awesome upsell. i like that upsell. 

THEY WANT THE BRAKES BUT THEY ARE LIKE “wait, i need to get my car smogged.” 

“omg, sir, we do smog here. let me do for it for you.” 

i shouldn’t have said anything. i knew the car was fucked up. the key barely works in the tumbler. you have wiggle it around and it’s a nightmare. 

but i did and they were like GREAT so here i go, to take it down the smog guy and the key doesn’t work right. had to get the tech wiggle it around for me because i lack the touch.

tried to roll down the front window. it rolls down but doesn’t come up unless you pull it up with your hands. several times. 

the pass side window doesn’t roll down either

did i mention that it has no rear brakes? it has 1mm for rear brakes. no one should be driving that car lmao 

find the smog guy and he’s like -_-

“give it it to the porter so he can drive it around to get everything up and running so i can do the smog”

i prepare my porter for battle. i warn him that this car is deathtrap and it might not have A/C. he dons his armor

a few hours later i call the smog guy because i haven’t had any updates

he finally picks up and is like “this car is a piece of shit, but i can’t run codes because the porter couldn’t drive it enough because it kept stalling. so we’re gonna try again.” 

MIRACULOUSLY. MIRACULOUSLY. 

the car passes smog despite it’s on its last legs

I PASSED THE FIRST EXAM FOR LA COUNTY

last week i study super hard for this test

the test is super easy

now i finally get to take the hard test and if i pass and do well on this next test, i get to go to the group interview

this job pays like min $62K min

all you need is a master’s degree

I…I have a master’s degree

like seriously, i’m perfect. pls pay me lots of money to do things i can already do and that’s like somehow applicable to my studies???

THE ULTIMATE DEALERSHIP FUCKERY HAPPENED. OVER THE STUPIDEST THING AND A LADY IS TRYING TO SAY SHE’S GOING TO CALL THE STATE ON ME BECAUSE SHE THINGS I PUT EXTRA CHARGES ON HER TICKET

backstory: my supervisor told me not to let that woman come. to not let her show up. to not schedule her an appointment. but did i listen?

no

i did not

anytime this woman comes she passes out flyers for her music classes which is super awkward 

and tries to use coupons from other dealerships that we can’t use because they literally say to be only used at THAT DEALERSHIP

she will then call everyone up and down southern california trying to price match and we’re like

dude

we’re still going to charge you this much

and she still comes back. it’s awful.

well, today i forgot it was here and everything was going well

she signed for her estimate for $69.95 for her full synthetic oil change and tire rotation. the same price we always charge and ADVERTISE SINCE FOREVER

everything is fine until i read her the total. $77.89 because of taxes and the oil disposal fee.

YOU KNOW TAXES. AND RECYCLING FEES. THE SAME THINGS SHE HAS BEEN PAYING FOR SINCE SHE’S HAD A CAR FOR MORE THAN MY LIFETIME. 

she looks at me asks why i didn’t quote her that in the first place and I was like “ma’am I can’t quote you taxes. i quote you our service. it’s 69.95″

“you’re breaking the law by misquoting me.”

“ma’am i did not misquote you. by law, i can’t quote you the taxes.” 

SHE THEN PROCEEDS TO TELL ME SHE’S GOING TO CALL THE STATE ON ME AND HER BROTHER IS AN MECHANIC FOR AUTO REPAIR SHOPS WHO INVESTIGATES THESE THINGS

(that’s a lie. B.A.R. (bureau of automotive repairs) have their own auditors who do this work���not mechanics.) 

I tell her to go ahead. please contact the state. by all means.

She glares at me and signs her paperwork. 

THEN BITCH SIGNS BY HER NAME THAT and i quote “I was told this was going to be $69) 

OH MY GOD I WAS SEETHING RED. SEETHING RED.

i felt bad because i was so mad i wasn’t as wonderful as I usually am to my next customer :( 

THE WILDEST ROLLER COASTER IS ABOUT TO START. LIKE FRIENDS. FRIENDS. FRIENDSSSSS. I kinda accepted a new job?!?!?!

so a few weeks ago, i joined ziprecruiter. 10/10. my resume has never had so many views until recently and the mobile apply is such an awesome feature. IT’S SO GOOD.

i vaguely remember selecting the option to have them send my resume out to other people and they did

enter smartrecruiters. so this company finds me and tells me they want to do an online interview

i got one of these messages last week but it was so weird that they didn’t tell me who they were so it felt like scam

THIS ONE ACTUALLY PUT THE COMPANY THEY WERE AND I WAS LIKE?? Okay. why not.

they’re global. have a lot of locations. have a wikipage. and have been around since 1859. seems legit. they’re opening up an LA office next month so this could be exciting. i want to move to LA.

So i set up the interview for my lunch hour

it’s kinda weird? the interview because it’s all chat base and I’m doing it on my phone at farmer’s boy but I’m answering the questions a bit more the direct side because i’m just typing on my phone.

the interview finishes and i’m like well–this was a great learning experience! and i learned about how I would respond. 

she says she’s impressed and that she will speak to her supervisors and will be back to me in 15-20 mins. to please wait kindly by my device were her words

so i wait. 

an hour goes by

i’m like fuck i guess i didn’t get it. the pay would have been sweet. just a little over 48K per year. damn. maybe on an industry i wanted, but doing a role a like. admin assistant.

I THEN GET A MESSAGE SAYING WOULD I LIKE TO HEAR WHAT THEY DECIDED?!

she sends a cute little emoji

I GOT THE JOB. 

 there are great benefits. training. pay???? THINGS. I GOT THE JOB????? AND IT PAYS ALMOST 50K A YEAR?!?!

i’m just waiting on my formal offer and once I have that, I will put in my two weeks notice. 

Like

wow

i’m really adulting right now. this is insane. INSANE.

BONUS: I found in my spam folder an invite to set up an phone interview with LA City of Commerce. Like did the universe decide it wants me today????

[savetheblackpaladin]

Paladins + Vehicles

Ok so I couldn’t get this out of my mind so let’s mcfreakin do this

Shiro

drives a Ford Expedition just as damaged as he is but listen, Black is a babe (high key based of a car I once drove)

Is mostly black except for some reason the hatch is khaki green and she’s missing bits of paint and has scratches and dents just everywhere

was the first car Shiro ever bought and he got her at a police car auction

he found a broken meth pipe hidden in the dash while he was replacing the heating core (nice)

she was super cheap bc she needed a lot of work but Shiro got her working like a champ!

she looks like she can breakdown at any second but shiro has driven this tank into the craziest situations

has driven over sidewalks to avoid waiting to turn at a light

said fuck it and drove over a huge ass snowback bc why not?

the one you call to move furniture or to get you when you get stuck

the official Camping Vehicle bc not only can she get into places a full size SUV shouldn’t physically be able too she’s the perfect tent/hauler!

Has phone alarms set up for all her checkups so he doesn’t miss a single oil change, brake check, tire rotation, or even spark plug replacement

he’s dedicated as fuck to his poor damaged bby

Has a ‘protection skeleton’ for good luck

his parents always had ‘protection angels’ so it’s traditional. he’s just morbid so protection skelly

Keith

has a red Honda CBR (Lance makes fun of his ‘crotch rocket’ but not so secretly gets him flustered)

Her name is officially Red but Keith always calls her ‘His Girl’

Will cry if she gets a scratch and will spend all day buffing it out

has totally made improvements to her and honestly, she can’t even be called a CBR anymore because wow he has replaced nearly all the stock parts with fancy illegal stuff

has spent the most money on his vehicle, like he spends more on Red than food. Shiro buys him groceries a lot

routinely races muscle cars and wins (of course)

but also has the most speed tickets bc this angry child doesn’t know what a speed limit is

“The day I go the speed limit will be the day my body gets driven to the morgue” Keith bby no

actually likes giving out rides so he always has two spare helmets (for small and large heads) and an extra leather jacket bc safety is important

will not let you ride if you don’t wear the jacket bc even tho he’s a speed demon Keith is super concerned with safety

once Red got bumped in a parking lot and fell over and it was honestly the worst day in Keith’s life

he stormed into the nearest store and demanded to see their camera feeds

WHAT CHUCKLEFUCK HIT MY BIKE I NEED THEIR LICENSE PLATE IM GONNA MURDER THEM

he scared the poor CS gal so bad she started crying and managers got involved and Keith just didn’t understand why he couldn’t see who hit Red bc this boy was out for blood

Police got called, Keith got escorted out, he tried to argue with the cop but things escalated and Shiro had to bail is baby brother out

after picking up Red ofc (Shiro has a portable ramp in his car. He. is. Prepared.)

Lance

has a 20 yr old Camry he affectionately calls Blue for short but her real name is essentially The Blue Babe of My Heart but he says it in spanish and I am not gonna try and translate that

he bought her super cheap from Hunk who had bought her as a turn around 

Lance was hanging around Hunk’s shop and honestly it was love at first sight

Hunk was all for it because honestly Camry’s are freaking tanks and never die and Lance is a disaster

they’re perfect for each other

has the best smelling car. He lives for those little scenty things you put in the dash

whenever Blue makes weird noises he’s just like ‘I know babe, i know. I got ya. You can make it because you are such a good girl!’

he talks the most to his car and it’s just so precious

Unironically has fuzzy dice and everyone hates them but the last time someone tried to take them down while Lance was driving he nearly flipped the car in his rage. No one touches them if they want to live.

Never locks his car bc you can’t just start it like a normal car so no one can steal it. also, no one wants a 20 yr old car

only Hunk and Lance can start her. everyone else has tried but they can’t figure out how lance and hunk do it.

Group belief is that Blue runs on magic

Has a “My child is an Honor Student” bumper sticker and he loves it. Cue group inside joke about Hunk and Lance being proud parents of their Honor Student child Pidge.

Once tried taking Keith on a romantic date out to the woods but Blue got stuck in the trail bc Lance kept forgetting to replace his bald ass tires

Hunk had to go get them and gave Lance a lecture about it

they still had a nice time though just sitting on Blue’s hood

Hunk

Ok so he’s a mechanic right? Hunk runs a small shop where he buys cheap cars people can’t fix, fixes them, and sells them for profit but he really excels at restoration

Drives a pastel yellow Ford F100 from the 50′s called Butter

She’s actually a F250 under the hood but shhhhhh

the only thing original on this babe is the body, which Hunk routinely checks for rust or damage

There’s usually car parts, wood, or other random things in the bed bc Hunk also does construction on the side but if you wanna go star gaze, Butter is the best

Hunk will make a nest and it’s routine for everyone to just fall asleep in there watching the stars

Hasn’t done anything crazy in Butter bc she’s an antique and he is Responsible™

Like Keith he will spend hours buffing out any scratches and while he won’t completely loose it over bigger damages he will cry and be morose until he repairs it

However, if you put your feet on the dash he will break-check your ass, DON’T. DO. IT.

No eating in his car either

in fact don’t even be dirty in his car ok

Hates driving in winter bc the salt they put on the roads is terrible for cars and he feels her pain so he usually goes places with Lance or waits for the Weekend Costco Trip with Shiro

Is a good one to call if you get stuck bc this babe can pullout anything

Puts the reindeer antlers on his car for christmas

Puts flower bouquets in the grill for summer

Pidge

has two vehicles: a little lime green Vespa for summer and a deep green 2005 Prius for winter

hasn’t really named her vehicles and just refers to them as the Vespa and the Prius

she does love them though, like they are always clean and shiny

Got the Prius for her 18th birthday and she saved up for the Vespa bc she wanted to be that person who goes to Famer’s Market wearing a big straw hat and nice sun dress on a scooter

she’s adorable

shows up at Shiro’s, “I’m here to pick up a fossil” “Pidge I’m 25.” “Yeah, he’s got white hair and 4 children”

shows up and Lance and Hunk’s place, “Get in nerds, we’re going shopping”

sees Keith out on the street while on her Vespa. Challenges him to a race. Keith let her win once and it was all she could talk about for weeks bc she was so proud of her Vespa

modified the horn of her Prius to a semi-truck honk and uses it only for evil

there’s always soil in the back of the Prius bc she uses it to visit the nursery and just never cleans it

smells like earth in it as a result and it’s actually super peaceful

Gives everyone shit about their gas mileage bc she gets like 40+ to the gallon

[heyhosam]

All of you, all of me

A/N: Story based on this request. Anon, if you are reading this I hope you aren’t mad at me for taking so long because yours was one of the first requests I got…. I wanted to make it good but it took me forever to come up with a plot, and then life was shit to me and I couldn’t find the motivation to write this…so I’m terribly sorry you have waited for so long. I would like to apologize as well because of the characterization, more than a bad boy jungkook is more…… an emotional mess?????? like me I’m…….sorry??????????????????? yeah…… Hope you still enjoy the story, thank you love me.

I’m gonna put interesting info here to save my ass for after you read the story (specifically the sex scene).  I found this article about safety when using coconut oil as lubricant (yeah I searched it up on the internet for the purpose of this fic so I wouldn’t get messages telling me it’s dangerous or whatever. BE SURE TO ALWAYS FIND RELIABLE SOURCES WHEN IT COMES TO MATTERS LIKE THESE, THOUGH.) I’m linking also an interesting article about preparing for anal sex here that I will have to ignore for the purpose of this fic as it’s common on other fics as well just to make it “slightly” unreal but more “fun” to read… (although in real life don’t skip this part, kids. SAFETY AND CLEANLINESS FIRST, FUN AND ORGASMS LATER ) Visual references (x)

Ok pups, after the longest author’s note ever, if you are still here with me, I hope you like and enjoy the story :D

Read it also on AFF

Jungkook should have listened to Taehyung and wait a bit to go home, but the younger was getting bored, the stuffy and too hot air of the club was too much for Jungkook to handle. Warm bodies pressing too close to him, grabby hands touching him everywhere, slick lips trying to kiss him. If there was a thing Jungkook hated, it would be crowded places; If there was a thing Jungkook hated even more, would be crowded places with rude people.

Those two were reason enough to leave the club despite his friend’s slurred and insistent words pleading to stay. But once again, Taehyung should know Jungkook wouldn’t fall for pleads. Jungkook didn’t listen to anyone except himself.

But maybe, now, as Jungkook walked under the rain at three am, soaked to the bones with only a thin tee covering his body, he was regretting not listening to his friend.

He was shivering, lips trembling and almost blue when he stepped into the only grocery shop opened this late at night -or this early in the morning. He stood by the automatic doors for a moment trying to compose himself, hugging his torso in a lame attempt to bring warmth into him.

“S-shit…” he mumbled after noticing he was failing at providing himself some warmth, his body jerking uncontrollably with force as his fingers dug into his arms.

“Hey, take this.” said a soft voice as a fluffy towel immediately appeared in front of him. Jungkook took it with shaky fingers and dried himself as best as he could considering his senses were numb and his hands trembling non stop.

Somehow, between getting dried and changing his thin tee into a dry one the worker offered, Jungkook found himself seated on a stool behind the counter with a warm mug of chamomile tea and feeling a bit more like a human being again.

“What were you doing out there with this rain and this late at night?” asked the worker, watching closely Jungkook’s every movement.

“It’s not of your business…” replied Jungkook roughly, not even sparing the other a glance. He heard the other snort, probably offended by Jungkook’s response, but it wouldn’t be new. Jungkook wasn’t really what one would call a friendly person.

“Ok, so I just helped you not die of hypothermia and this is what I get?” the worker asked, now obviously offended, with slight irritation adorning his words.

Jungkook clanked his tongue, annoyed, and lifted his head to give the other his most impassive look - the one he used to intimidate, well, everyone- but his cold eyes didn’t seem to phase the other at all, who lifted an eyebrow at him and crossed his arms across his chest.

“You look like a wet kitty, not intimidating at all…” deadpanned the worker, one corner of his mouth lifting up when he saw Jungkook’s eyebrows knit under his wet bangs. “if that was what you were trying to do, that is…”

Jungkook’s frown deepened and it took less than a second to feel rage boil within his veins. He hated it when people didn’t take him seriously, mocked him or laughed at his face. Jeon Jungkook was a creature full of pride, after all. He clenched his jaw and almost bared his teeth to the stupid worker that just smirked even more at his reaction, stood up and took two big steps to the other to easily corner him against the counter he had behind him. In moments like this, Jungkook thanked his genetics for giving him height, it was advantageous and helped him more times than he could count.

“I don’t think you should laugh at me, shortie… I’m not really in a good mood right now.” he practically growled. He watched satisfied as the other slightly gulped and his brown eyes  moved away from Jungkook’s fiery ones for a second before focusing on them again.

“I just… I helped you before-“

“So?” interrupted Jungkook, leaning forward a bit more into the worker’s personal space. “I didn’t ask for your help.”

“Maybe you didn’t ask for it but you sure needed help and I provided it.” retorted the other, now also frowning. “It’s not that difficult to say thank you, you know? It’s called manners.”

Jungkook snorted, an amused smirk making an appearance on his lips. Jeon Jungkook never, ever, needed help nor he would ask for it to anyone, hence no one would ever hear him say a ‘thank you’. It amused Jungkook the other boy was getting so riled up just for that.

“You are so stupid.” laughed Jungkook with a disbelieving shake of his head.

“Get out.” hissed the worker, now frowning and eyes full of rage.

“What?”

“Get out!” said the other loudly, his voice echoing on the empty store. Jungkook blinked surprised and jerked back. “I won’t tolerate a brat like you disrespect me, not after I’ve helped you. Now, get out.”

They stared at each other for two seconds too long. Jungkook was surprised by the other’s outburst, it caught him off guard, obviously not expecting this response from someone that looked like they could barely fight a fly. Jungkook was used at fear and submission when he found himself in situations like this, or in case the other would talk back, he would punch them and resolve things. But with this boy he couldn’t even force himself do that, his fiery eyes rooted Jungkook to the spot. He felt like a little kid being scolded and that made heat bloom on his cheeks, suddenly embarrassed he had acted this carelessly with someone.

That was a first, Jungkook never felt guilty.

“Fuck you.” he spat angrily, slammed the mug of tea on the counter -spilling its content on the surface- and stormed out the store with firm steps and making sure to direct a last furious glance at the worker, who just rolled his eyes.

Jungkook got home with a frown between his eyebrows and a blush on his cheeks, but most of all soaked again by the rain and in embarrassment.

Jungkook  knew he had quite the temper, always angry, always ready to fight, always getting offended by the minor things someone said about him, or by the way someone looked at him. Some labeled him as an asshole, his friend Taehyung the one who said it more than anyone, but Jungkook had learned to live with it. Live with the side glances, the insults, the mistrust of everyone because they never knew what would be his reaction. It was better like this, to not have anyone near him.

Jungkook was a lone wolf, he didn’t need anyone, didn’t want anyone. Why bother allowing someone into your life when they are going to leave you soon?

Jungkook had quite the experience with that. First his dad, not even staying around enough to see him come to this world; later on his mother, her slim fingers leaving marks on his tinny wrists when she dragged him to her dad’s house.

“I love you, but I need some time for myself. You will understand when you grow up.” she had said with a sweet smile that did poor job at calming down her crying son before turning her back at him and leave without a second glance.  And yes, he understood; Jungkook understood that she was kind of a free spirit and a son to take care of would hold her back, and she wasn’t ready for that. Jungkook stopped expecting to see his mother after two nights of hopeless crying on his granddad’s arms, the two of them siting on the cold concrete waiting for her to come back. He did understand, once he grew older, she would never come back to him. When his grandfather, the only source of love and comfort, died when he was fifteen, Jungkook felt truly alone and stopped allowing people into his life.

Jungkook liked to think he didn’t care about anything, that moment his mother walked away from him had broke something within him that couldn’t be repaired. He decided to not care anymore, if something was convenient for him he would go for it until it wouldn’t be anymore, or because he grew tired of it. When someone, or something, decided to leave him he would just accept it. When someone thought he was a bad guy, selfish or an asshole, he would accept it. He just did what he wanted to.

Jungkook didn’t care.

But if Jungkook didn’t care about anything nor anyone, why couldn’t he stop thinking about the worker from the previous night? His fierce eyes full of anger kept on appearing on Jungkook’s mind the whole night, like a nightmare, haunting him for everything bad he had done his entire life -the high doses of alcohol, the sleepless nights at clubs fucking around or getting into fights. The worst of it was that those eyes made him want to apology.

Unbelivable.

Jungkook took another puff of his cigarette -the third one he had lit in the half hour he had been hovering around the grocery store- and observed the worker from the previous night take his position behind the counter as he bid his companion goodbye with a gentle smile.

And Jungkook did just that for the next two hours; walk around the store, emptying his pack of cigarettes and trying to gain the courage to walk through the automatic doors and say something to the worker. If that something was something mean that would get him back for scolding Jungkook the other night, better than not.

Jungkook hovered in front of the store until he finished the lit cigarette, threw it on the concrete and made his way to the door. It was so ridiculous to feel so intimidated by someone like the other male; he was shorter, thinner and, judging by the kind smile he directed at everyone, not really a threat. Jungkook could win against him. The previous night had been just a little tumble.

But then, the doors opened and immediately attracted the worker’s attention, and consequently his eyes fell on Jungkook, who felt again the same burn of embarrassment on his cheeks.

“You again?” mumbled the worker while crossing his arms. The soft smile he was wearing on his mouth dropped that same instant and it was clear on his eyes he was not happy with Jungkook’s presence.

“Yeah, got a problem with that?” spat Jungkook,  squaring his shoulders and walking inside the establishment with decided steps. The other frowned but said nothing, his eyes followed Jungkook carefully as he approached the counter. “I need to get cigarettes.”

The worker sighed and simply pointed his finger to his right, where a bunch of smoking packs where stacked one above the other. Jungkook toke one, his favorite brand, and put it on the counter waiting for the other to charge.

“I need to see your ID.” said the worker with a serious face, the annoying lift of his eyebrow just made Jungkook hate him even more. “I can’t give this to you if you are a minor, sorry.”

“I’m not a minor.” growled Jungkook, his frown deepening. The worker just smirked, a sparkle of amusement crossed his eyes and then Jungkook knew he had given the other free reign again to make fun of him.

“By the childish way you behave I would think you are still in middle school, but I need to see your ID to confirm that.”

Jungkook’s nostrils flared, offended and clearly mad the other had come up with an unexpected retort. Jungkook was used to this, it was easy for him to reduce his opponents to a crying mess. And still, with this one, he was having a hard time.

“You are fucking rude.” he said finally, his face a bit red from embarrassment and by the lame response he had given to the latter.

“Me?” questioned the worker, eyes big in faux innocence. “You are the one who came here as if you owned the damn place, and still I’m the rude one.”

“I was being nice!” countered back Jungkook, his voice rising an octave, though he didn’t know if it was because of embarrassment or indignation. “It was you who insulted me.”

The other raised an eyebrow at him. Jungkook hated it, the gesture always felt like the other was judging him for all his bad decisions in life.

“You are right,” started the worker, uncrossing his arms. His eyes softened a bit and Jungkook caught himself thinking they were quite pretty when they weren’t judging him. “I will apologize for that if you do it first for the way you acted yesterday.”

Jungkook blinked, not expecting the other’s words; the fact that he was so eager to apology. Maybe it wasn’t that bad, to say sorry for something you clearly did wrong. But Jungkook didn’t know how to, or maybe didn’t want to, he wasn’t sure. He was tempted to say ’no, fuck off’ but then he looked up to the other that was staring expectantly at him, and probably sensing the inner struggle Jungkook was dealing with, and before he could think about it twice the words choked out of his throat hoarsely.

“I’m sorry about yesterday.”

Jungkook blinked surprised by his own words, bewildered that they didn’t make him feel any less; he felt more relieved than anything else, and that was even more strange than the soft smile that the other man was giving him.

“I’m sorry for what I said to you, then.” replied the other, snapping Jungkook’s attention back to him.

The soft look the other boy was staring at him with made Jungkook blush and decided to clear his throat to hide his embarrassment.

“It- it’s ok.” he mumbled and then tapped the pack of cigarettes waiting in the counter. “I want this.”

The worker smiled and nodded, charged Jungkook and then observed him fly to the automatic doors.

“Hope to see you again!” he said before the doors closed, and Jungkook looked back at him, at the gentle smile that seemed to be permanent on his lips, and thought that maybe he would like to see him again also.

“Don’t you have anything else to do?”

“I thought you liked my company, hyung.”

Jungkook grinned, fluttering his eyelashes charmingly and chuckled lowly when Jimin rolled his eyes and turned his back to him, jam jars in hand.

“Not when you scare off costumers.” mumbled Jimin stretching his arm out to put a jar of strawberry jam on the highest shelf. Jungkook smirked amused at the groan that Jimin released when he failed to reach, not even after lifting up to his tip toes.

“You should be thanking me-“ started Jungkook as he abandoned the bag of chips he had stolen previously from one of the aisles and stood up from where he was watching the other work to press his chest against Jimin’s back for later press with his fingers the jar into place, “-I’m guarding the place from thieves and violent criminals.”

Jimin turned back to him with a blank expression, and Jungkook smirked at him with a casual shrug of his shoulders.

“You are the thief here.” accused Jimin, using his small hands to push the younger away from him.

“What?” Jungkook put his hand on his heart, faking his hurt over Jimin’s accusation. “I always pay for my cigarettes.”

“Did you pay for those chips?” questioned Jimin, pointing with his finger the abandoned bag on the floor. Jungkook went to grab it from the floor and casually put a handful of chips on his mouth.

“I don’t worry myself with trifle things like those.” shrugged off Jungkook and sat on the floor again as Jimin went back to stacking the rest of jars.

“One of these days my boss is going to kick your ass out of here.” mumbled Jimin, turning back to him and pointing accusatory with a jar of peach jam. “I won’t be able to do anything.”

Jungkook snorted with his mouth full, consequently spiting some crumbs to the floor. “That is if he can catch me first. That old man would have to be really lucky to be able come near enough to touch me.”

“That old man gives me my salary,” countered Jimin swiftly, giving Jungkook another bored stare. “and he’s being really nice and hasn’t really complained about you basically living here.”

Jungkook opted to give another shrug as response and keep on munching on his chips, just watching Jimin do his work.

It was weird how things changed for the past three months, now that Jungkook stopped to think about it. Somehow, Jungkook had found himself frequenting the store more often than not and at some point he stopped acting defensive towards the other male. Maybe because Jimin received him with a smile every time and never seemed to be really offended by what Jungkook said, laughing most of the time at the younger’s stupidity or dorky manners instead of scolding him or call the police like others did often.

It was true he spent most of his time at the store here with Jimin, specially when the latter had the night shift, and hovered around it for hours doing nothing but bug and tease the worker until it was closing time. The reality was that he had nothing more entertaining to do, and Jimin had stopped questioning him eventually.

“Are you gonna stay until I close?” asked Jimin, folding the flaps of the cardboard box now empty of jars. Jungkook hummed his confirmation since he knew Jimin would be mad if he kept talking with his mouth full. “and walk me home?”

“Don’t I always do?”

Jimin chuckled and gave him a nod. “Yeah, my knight in shining armor.”

Jungkook snorted and stood once Jimin started to walk away cardboard boxes in hand, ignoring how those words made his heart flutter happily. The younger walked behind him, as Jimin’s shadow, munching loudly on the chips that were still left on the bag.

Jungkook had started to walk the other home a month ago. It wasn’t only because they had, incredibly, developed a firm friendship, or because Jungkook felt the weird need to be near Jimin as much as possible, but also because the streets at night were dangerous.

They didn’t live in a pretty neighborhood in which the grannies sat at the parks to knit, or the children played on the street with cheerful giggles. There were always sirens going off at the distance and criminals hovering around parks with shiny knives on their pockets waiting for a victim to scare. It was dangerous for Jimin to close the store at five in the morning and walk home. But Jungkook was known in the streets so, even if Jimin and his boss complained a lot about his presence, he knew they appreciated the company and safety.

Jimin had been at gun point before, giving the money of the register machine with shaky hands and mumbled pleas for his life and Jungkook felt horrible the next day when the worker explained it to him with fear still evident on all his body.

“I think I will close early tonight.” Jungkook stood silently near the counter, the bag of chips now empty and crumbled on his hand, and observed as Jimin went to lock the automatic doors.”It’s almost closing time and I don’t think anyone else will come this late.”

They kept quiet as the minutes ticked by, Jimin doing the daily count of the shop’s earnings and Jungkook silently observing him until a knock on the glass automatic doors made them jump in surprise.

There was three young boys at the door, signaling for them to open with wide gestures and mouthing something the two males inside couldn’t hear. Jungkook frowned as Jimin moved to the doors.

“Are you gonna open?” he asked, slightly concerned, but also standing upright in a guarded stance.

“Yeah,”answered Jimin, rotating the key so the doors could slide automatically open again. “officially, it’s not closing time yet.”

“Dude, why were you closed? skipping on working hours.” one of the boys said loudly, the other two stepping inside snickering at their friend’s joke.

“Sorry, thought no none would come this late.” replied Jimin and went to his place behind the counter.

Jungkook observed as the three boys wandered around the aisles, grabbing bags of snacks and candy, loudly chatting and laughing. He used to be as obnoxious as them when he was their age; Until not long ago, he stormed into stores at night with some of his buddies to do the same, but as he took a look at Jimin’s nervous stance Jungkook realized how wrong it was to scare off people like that, and suddenly felt apologetic for all the times he’d done it before.

He remained silent as the three boys dropped all their purchase on the counter so Jimin could start charging them, studying all their movements to prevent any unexpected event. And just when they were ready to give their money to Jimin, Jungkook noticed something poking out of one of the boys’ jacket’s pocket.

“I think you forgot something.” said Jungkook menacingly, sentencing the kids with a cold stare to show he wasn’t kidding around. The three of them looked at him, one of them seemed to panic slightly because of his words, but another one spoke before Jungkook could call him out for it.

“What the fuck are you saying?” he spat loudly before letting out a loud laugh, “Are you that old you starting to have hallucinations?”

The other two laughed along with the idiot that spoke, which just unnerved Jungkook more. Not only where they trying to steal -from Jimin- in front of his eyes, but they also had the guts to disrespect him, and Jungkook hated when kids like these didn’t take him seriously in a poor attempt at appearing more menacing.

“Do you think I’m stupid, kid?” he growled in his face, voice loud and menacing enough for the three of them to gulp in fear. Jungkook’s eyes glinted dangerously, fists curling ready to throw the first punch, but he refused to be that aggressive in front of Jimin. “Empty your pockets or I will make you do it.”

The boy took a step back, sharing a brief eye contact with his two other friends before looking back at Jungkook again. The older lifted his eyebrow, expectantly, daring him to do something else than what he ordered, but his stare was defiant and strong enough to scare off the boy.

“OK, shit- OK.” breathed out the boy before getting out two cans of beer from his pockets. The other two did the same and left the cans on the counter, giving Jimin slightly apologetic eyes.

“Now, get the fuck out of here.” spat Jungkook, giving the boy a soft push on his shoulder. The kid protested, babbling something about still wanting to pay for the snacks but Jungkook gave him another push that had the boy almost falling on his butt. “I said get out. Are you deaf?”

“OK, we are leaving, jezz” argued the boy, lifting his hands up in surrender. The other two were already out of the store, but the one that dared to talk back to Jungkook mumbled a “fucking asshole” before leaving.

Jungkook was tempted to follow them, punch their faces and teach them a lesson they would ever forget but Jimin’s soft voice erased that thought from his mind immediately.

“Thank you.” he said, voice barely audible in the empty store. Jungkook looked at him and frowned at the fear on the other’s face.

“It’s nothing.” he mumbled, walking back to Jimin, wishing to round the counter and embrace him. “Hyung, close up and let’s go home.”

“Yeah, OK.”

Luckily Jimin didn’t live that far from the store, but that night it took them more time than usual to reach his apartment. Jimin had kept quiet the whole time and Jungkook awkwardly walked at his side, hands buried deep in his pockets throwing worried glances at him.

He wasn’t good with words, specially those of comfort, but Jimin was a friend and Jungkook wanted to give him the reassurance that everything was okay. Because frowns didn’t suit Jimin’s face; he looked better with eyes bright like the sun and smiles full of sweetness.

“Thank you for accompanying me.” said Jimin once they reached his building, playing with his keys. He wasn’t even looking up at the younger, and that worried Jungkook even more. Jimin seemed to be really scared and Jungkook was at loss of words.

“You know It’s not a problem, hyung.”

“Yeah. Thank you, for real.” mumbled the older one, finally looking up at him. Jungkook showed a lopsided grin, poor attempt at being reassuring because of how unused he was at smiling, but it seemed to be enough to make Jimin smile back at him, and that eased Jungkook’s heart a little bit.

It was completely unexpected, and Jungkook almost fainted right there as Jimin enveloped his waist with his thin arms, pressed himself closer until their chest were touching and rested his forehead on Jungkook’s shoulder.

Jimin was hugging him.

Jungkook’s first thought was to push him away, afraid the other would hear his rapid beating heart because of their proximity, but then it dawned on him that Jimin was hugging him and it was a chance to touch the other he weirdly didn’t want to miss, so before Jimin would notice Jungkook was standing frozen on his embrace, the taller of the two circled Jimin’s small frame and brought him even closer to his body, burying his nose on Jimin’s hair.

“I’m really glad you were here with me tonight.” said Jimin softly, voice muffled by the fabric of Jungkook’s bomber jacket.

“I’m glad I was there too.” he said stiffly, still awkward because of the situation unfolding. Unexpectedly he didn’t want to pull away; he wished he could hold Jimin for longer and for it to not be weird.

“You are truly my knight in shinning armor.” laughed Jimin, finally pulling back to stare at Jungkook, who breathed out a laugh for lack of anything better to do. He mused that succumbing to his need to lean down to kiss Jimin would have been extremely weird.

“Are you my princess then?” teased Jungkook, lopsided smile perched on his lips. He felt Jimin’s fingers curl into his jacket and, unconsciously, he tightened his arms around his waist in response.

“Shut up,” laughed Jimin, still not letting go of the other, “You fucking idiot.”

Jungkook laughed and let Jimin press himself against him again. They stood like that for a while, hugging and enjoying each other until Jimin yawned so big his jaw almost popped out of its place.

They bid farewell to each other with shy smiles and happy hearts, Jungkook wishing for hours to run by fast so he could see Jimin again.

Jungkook had always prided in being strong, never losing his composure in unexpected situations; he was smart and observant, quick to catch on on what was going on around him so he could act the best according to the problem.

But this time it was so unexpected that he stood there, rooted to the floor with his heart beating almost painfully on his chest.

He reacted two seconds too slow, so when his brain finally told him to recoil and run she had already spotted him.

“Jungkook?” she questioned,  her eyes squinting slightly in confusion before her face contorted into one of happiness, even of relief. “Jungkook! It’s you, right?”

He shook his head, ready to fly but she was quick and before he could blink she had approached and grabbed his arm to prevent him from leaving; it was so unexpected he was still numb, not fast enough to think of an escape. The fact that he was tired from work influenced too; he had a rough morning at the repair shop when of the engines broke and covered his entire being with car oil.

“Don’t you recognize me?” she asked, hopeful eyes staring up at him. He gulped, eyes darting away from hers, wishing his body would finally react so he could get away from this situation.

Of course he recognized her; she had the same face, just with the bonus of some wrinkles at the corner of her eyes and instead of sporting a bright red her hair was black, just like his.

“Jungkook, I’m-“

“I know.” he cut her with a deep frown. He knew who she was, but it angered him she thought she could appear out of nowhere after so many years and expect him to smile like nothing. “I know who you are.”

“Ah, I’m glad.” she sighed, smile still on her lips. “I thought for a moment you had forgotten me.”

“I did.” he spat, finally musing the courage to free his arm from her grip. She frowned in confusion but before she could say anything he kept talking. “I did until you appeared-“

“Jungkook, dear-“

“Don’t.” he spat furiously through gritted teeth. “Don’t you dare call me sweet names.”

“I’m here to talk, Jungkook.” she tried to explain, her smile now gone to be replaced with a worried frown. He snorted, anger sprouting to live.

“How did you find me anyways.” he asked, eyes swelling up with unwanted tears. He sniffled loudly, furiously attempting to contain the urge to cry; they were tears of anger, he knew, of frustration, but he refused to show weakness in front of her, let her know she somehow was able to reduce him into a crying child because he missed his mom.

“I went to your grandpa’s house and asked the neighbors about you when they told me he died awhile ago.” she mumbled, eyes going down with a brief sparkle of sadness. “you should have told me he-“

“How?” he interrupted her again, voice loud enough to attract people’s attention. They were standing at the street, just outside Jungkook’s apartment building and the grannies that always fused over Jungkook with fondness and freshly-done cupcakes were now looking at the scene with worried eyes. “How was I supposed to tell you when you left with nothing much of a farewell to your only son twenty years ago.”

“Jungkook- I— I’m sorry-“

“I don’t fucking care how sorry you are.” he spat furiously, wiping away the angry tear that slipped from his eye. She took a step back, obviously taken aback by Jungkook’s display of anger, which Jungkook internally rejoiced in; she needed to know how badly she had hurt him. “I don’t need you now, I don’t want you here. You aren’t my mother.”

“Jungkook-“

“No - fuck off” he almost screamed in her face, and then, without giving her another glance, turned around, ignoring the repeated call of his name.

“I think you should tone it down boy.”

“Are you my dad?” slurred Jungkook, giving Taehyung a side glance that he hoped was charged with hatred -as much as his half closed eyes could be able to produce.

Taehyung snorted while looking at him, and Jungkook had to turn his head away because even in his drunken state he could see the worry on his friends eyes.

“You’ve been acting weird,” pouted Taehyung instead of prodding Jungkook more about his obvious inner struggle, “First you barely go out with us anymore at night and now you suddenly appear out of nowhere and drink your brains out. Is there something you wanna tell me?”

Jungkook grunted in response, gulping down another tequila shot before slamming the glass on the counter, the hot liquid burning down his throat in a rather pleasant way. He knew the hangover would be horrible the next day -tequila had terrible effects on him-, but at least it was numbing his thoughts enough to forget the pleading eyes of his mother.

“She said sorry.” mumbled Jungkook, spiting the words with disgust, “she thinks she can appear suddenly and everything will be fucking rainbows and unicorns because she says she’s sorry-“

“Who?” asked Taehyung, leaning closer to Jungkook to take away the shot glass the bartender had refilled.

“Mom.” replied Jungkook dryly as his shoulders sagged tiredly. He heard his friend suck in a breath, didn’t need to turn to look at him to see the surprise on his face. Taehyung was aware of Jungkook’s story and also knew parents’ topic wasn’t welcomed in a conversation. He had learned it the hard way when they were still teens.

“This is fucked up.” mumbled Taehyung for the lack of anything better to say. Jungkook nodded clumsily, his senses numbing even more as alcohol was consuming his whole body; but he was still able to talk and think, so he needed more.

He reached for the glass Taehyung had took from him but his friend took it away from his fingers, which made Jungkook stare at him furiously.

“What the fuck.”

“I think you’ve drank enough-“

“Aren’t you my friend?” slurred Jungkook, swaying back when he stood from the stool, fists clenched ready to punch Taehyung in the face.

“Because I’m your friend I’m not letting you drink more.”

“Fucking hate ya’.” mumbled Jungkook, feebly punching Taehyung’s shoulder. His friend tried to hold him still, but Jungkook snapped his arm away from him and turned to the door of the bar, “‘m leaving, I don’t need you acting like my dad tonight. Fuck you-“

“Dude, come on-“ tried Taehyung, standing behind, “- let’s find a pretty girl you can hook up with to destress a bit-“

“Fuck off!” he screamed, swatting away the hand Taehyung had put on his shoulder. Without another word he marched towards the door, troubled for a second when he couldn’t find the knob to open it.

The fresh air of the night helped him sober slightly. He still wobbled on his legs, though, not following a straight line and without a particular direction. He didn’t know where he was going but being honest, he didn’t care much.

He felt bad for what had happened early that afternoon. He acted on impulse and unconsciously spilled all his resentment on her; but then, even if she deserved it he had been feeling bad about it the whole afternoon. That was what had confused him even more— the guilt.

He wouldn’t have felt bad four months ago, his drunken brain reasoned, but spending so much time with Jimin had made him softer, more comfortable in feeling other things than hatred or simply not feeling anything at all. It was Jimin’s fault his mother’s visit had affected him so much.

With that in mind he decided to pay Jimin a visit, tell him it was his fault. Yeah, that sounded good.

Somehow he remembered Jimin wasn’t on the store that night, one of the few nights he had free during the week, so he automatically directed his steps towards the other’s apartment, climbing clumsily up the stairs of the building that on any other night he would have jumped two at a time.

He knocked on the door roughly with his fist, then slapped on it until Jimin opened the door, hair disheveled and eyes half closed.

“Jungkook?” he asked confused, rubbing with a fist the crumbs on his eyes. Cute, Jungkook thought, but he reminded himself he was there for a reason and Jimin needed to know how of an emotional mess he had made of Jungkook, he couldn’t allow any distractions- regardless of how cute Jimin was.

“It’s your fault.” said Jungkook, pointing an accusatory finger at Jimin’s chest, whose eyes opened wide in confusion, “She came back, and I felt bad and it’s your fault.”

“OK?” said Jimin carefully, even more confused after the other’s reasoning, “Do you wanna come in?”

“No-“ refused Jungkook loudly, jabbing another finger at Jimin’s chest, “-I’m angry at you.”

Jimin grabbed his wrist softly, tiny fingers barely enveloping fully Jungkook’s forearm. Jungkook marveled at it, watching with wide eyes how cute Jimin’s sturdy and slightly tanned fingers contrasted with the colors inked on his skin. Shit, he was getting distracted.

“That’s why you should come inside,” explained Jimin, eyebrows furrowed in slight concern and bottom lip jutted out in a pout, “I don’t want you to be angry at me.”

Jungkook wasn’t really sure how the other had managed to convince him, but five minutes later he found himself sat on Jimin’s couch with a glass of water on his hands, eyes wide observing everything around him. He reasoned it had a lot to do with Jimin’s doe and sparkly eyes and that giant pout that could melt even the coldest heart.

“Drink that up,” said Jimin coming from the kitchen with a glass of milk on his own hands, “your hangover will be horrible otherwise.”

Jungkook obeyed, some water dribbling down his chin onto his tee from how quickly he gulped the contents down, and ignoring Jimin’s giggle he whipped his face a second after.

“Now you gonna tell me why are you so angry at me?” asked Jimin, sitting cross-legged on the sofa facing Jungkook’s side, hands cupping his glass carefully as to not spill its content.

“Because you make me feel things.” confessed Jungkook blatantly, ignoring those words could have a double meaning.

“Feel… things?”

“Yeah,” he affirmed, adding a firm nod to support his statement. “I used to not care and because of you I do care a lot about things now.”

“That’s…. Is that a bad thing?” questioned Jimin then, sensing this was more serious than what he expected initially.

“It is!” exclaimed Jungkook, turning his body to the side so he was facing the other aswell. “I shouldn’t feel bad for her, you know?” he kept babbling with a sudden knot on his throat, “she abandoned me, she deserves what I said to her but now I - I now feel bad - and it’s your fault.”

There was a moment of silence, complete and deafening silence; not even a sound could be heard from the street, it seemed as if the world hit pause for a second. And the next one he had Jimin’s arms around his shoulders pressing him down until his head collided with Jimin’s chest, noticing then he had started crying.

“Jungkook, I’m sorry.” mumbled Jimin, his fingers cradling his hair softly. “I don’t know what to say—“

“It’s not really your fault,”choked out Jungkook, enveloping his arms around Jimin’s small frame. “it’s just- I didn’t expect it.”

“Wanna tell me what happened exactly?” asked Jimin, his fingers scratching softly Jungkook’s scalp. It was relaxing, but Jungkook found himself crying a bit more as memories came rushing to his mind; how hard he had cried when she left, how alone he felt the first few nights until his grandpa had helped him go through the pain and confusion, being his only source of comfort before he was forced to leave also.

“She- she left me -she simply abandoned me with grandpa when I was just a kid.” he explained clumsily, voice rough from the crying and fingers digging into Jimin’s over-sized tee. “and she came out of nowhere with an excuse of an apology thinking it will be as simple as that.”

Jimin seemed to grasp enough of the story through Jungkook’s drunken words, because he tightened his arms around the younger, pressing him more into his chest before burying his nose on Jungkook’s hair.

“When grandpa died I was alone, completely alone— I had no one and I just—” he babbled out, more tears coming out his eyes,”— she thinks she can say sorry and that I will forgive her as easily… I don’t want her in my life-“

“Then don’t accept her.” interrupted Jimin. Jungkook leaned away, surprised by his words; he knew Jimin was kind and caring, Jungkook reasoned he would be forgiving his mother were he in Jungkook’s case, so what he had just said caught Jungkook off guard.

“What?” he asked confused, sniffling harshly. Jimin gave him a fond smile before explaining himself.

“I mean, she left you behind and barely said goodbye nor why she was leaving,” he started with, his gentle fingers still on Jungkook’s hair, “That’s not how you treat your own kid, so you have the right to not forgive her.”

“I thought you would said I should— that is what you would do.”

“Not it you don’t want to.” he continued, smile still on his lips. Jungkook wasn’t sure what the other was smiling about, but the sight of it was enough to tamer down his crying. “she should have explained herself back then, you would have understood- maybe would get angry anyways, but you would have understood why she left and you wouldn’t have gotten angrier by the day for so many years. Maybe, by now, you would have forgiven her already ”

“I — Yeah….” mumbled Jungkook bewildered, blinking as Jimin’s words sunk in. He was still tipsy, so it took him a while to really comprehend that Jimin was right. He was a child when she left, but if she just have told him she wasn’t feeling capable of raising him, or whatever her reason was, he would have understood. He would have let it heal on its own instead of spending all his childhood wondering what he had done wrong and hating her to the point it forbid him of feeling anything else. Even if he had said he didn’t care anymore back then, deep inside him that wound had been still bleeding without him noticing and converted his pain into hatred to world.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, fixing his eyes on Jimin hoping it would convey how sincere he was. “I— I should have noticed I was still hurting and try to solve it instead of being so angry at everything and everyone.”

“You are a good kid, even if you don’t see it for yourself.” spoke Jimin softly, his smile never faltering. Jungkook noticed how Jimin’s smile was enough to ease his hurting heart. “On a side note, I think it would be good to talk to her, listen to her reasons but if you don’t want to forgive her for the pain she caused it’s understandable— but you don’t have to. Do it when you are ready.”

They stared at each other intently, Jimin used his thumb to wipe away Jungkook’s tears, touch tender and eyes soft. Jungkook felt overwhelmed for a second, letting himself drown on the other’s eyes that were so full of understanding and care. Jimin’s eyes were so pretty, sparkly, as if they held the whole world for only Jungkook to see, and they staring right back at him -only him; he felt rooted to the place, suddenly everything bad forgotten, there was no pain, no hate. There was nothing but peace, the tranquil beating of his own heart, his soothing breathing - maybe a bit of love.

Without thinking he leaned forward, closing the small space between his faces until their lips met. Jimin’s breath hitched against his lips, his fingers curling on Jungook’s nape.

It was a short kiss, but enough to leave Jungkook’s lips itching for more. He leaned in again to give Jimin’s lips an open-mouthed kiss this time, nipping softly the other’s bottom lip before separating again.

“Jungkook…” whispered Jimin, pushing him away slightly with a hand on his chest when Jungkook tried for another kiss, his other hand still curled around the back of his neck, “I don’t think we— you are drunk.”

“I want you, hyung,” he blurted out, fighting easily against Jimin’s weak push to press the tip of their noses together, dragging his body forward so he could be closer to him, “I want you so bad.”

Jimin breathed in shakily, half-lidded eyes fixed on Junkook’s lips into what Jungkook interpreted a silent plea for more, so he tilted his head and captured Jimin’s lips with his own again without a single bit of hesitation. Jimin seemed more eager this time aswell, opening his mouth to allow Jungkook lick into it with ease, both groaning in pleasure when their tongues met.

It was rushed, a bit sloppy, and maybe Jungkook was still too drunk to be completely aware of what he was doing, but as Jmin’s fingers fisted his hair with a rough pull and Jungkook’s hand fell on the other’s thigh there was nothing Jungkook would change about this moment.

It got heated up quickly, Jungkook leaning forward more and more until Jimin was laid down on the sofa with the younger between his legs and hovering over him, mouth devouring his complete being passionately. Jimin started releasing soft mewls of pleasure, as if he had difficulties keeping up with Jungkook’s path but not wanting to stop.

“Jungkook—“ moaned Jimin when the younger started rotating his hips down onto Jimin’s hardening bulge. Jungkook’s mouth moved down the other’s neck, nibbling softly and licking all the skin he could find, rejoicing in the little sounds of pleasure that kept falling from Jimin’s abused lips.

The younger kept the friction going for a bit despite it had started to hurt, his member too hard and sensitive, but Jimin kept clinging onto him, fingertips digging into the small of Jungkook’s back to press him closer, the other tugging at his hair; not to mention the sounds he kept releasing, awakening some groans of pleasure from Jungkook.

“Hyung— Jimin,” he groaned on the other’s neck, hot breath moisturizing Jimin’s skin as he panted against it, “tell me I can— please, let me fuck you.”

Jimin threw his head back, giving Jungkook unspoken permission to suck on his neck as his fingers dug more into Jungkook’s clothes.

“I don’t— I’ve never done it before.” confessed Jimin, voice rough and sounding undone. Jungkook groaned at the sound, pleased he had reduced Jimin into a mess so quickly.

“Shit,” moaned Jungkook, as his hips stuttered forward seeking for more, but his foggy brain reminded him of what Jimin had just said, so he slowed down and Jimin whined at the lost friction. “Then you don’t— we don’t have to-“

“I want to,” confessed Jimin, finally opening his eyes to stare back at him, eyes drowned in a mix of lust and fear. “I want to do this with you, I’ve wanted for long. I just— I don’t want this to mean nothing to you.”

Jungkook studied Jimin’s expression and the seriousness of his words, suddenly very aware of his own feelings. He didn’t want this to mean nothing either, Jimin was too precious in his life to fuck up that much. He wanted all of Jimin; his lips and their kissed, his tender smiles, his short fingers interlacing with his slender ones. He wanted everything Jimin had to offer.

“All of you—“ he slurred, pestering wet kisses all over the other’s face until he found his lips again, “I want all of you forever.”

Jimin embraced him by his shoulders, pressing him down impossibly closer. There wasn’t even a tiny bit of space between them, except for their clothes. Jungkook had never wished so hard for clothes to vanish into nothingness so quickly.

With shaky fingers and clumsy movements they got rid of their clothes and once they were utterly naked Jungkook stopped to marvel in the sight that was Park Jimin naked, sprawled under him with flushed cheeks and bitting on his bottom lip seductively, awaiting for Jungkook’s next move.

“You are— You are so hot.” mumbled Jimin shyly, his short fingers tracing delicately the ink on Jungkook’s chest, swirls and curls and vibrant colors that transformed into a beautiful rose. Jungkook let him, enjoying the feel of those sweet fingers on his skin. It was suddenly so intimate, the delicacy in which Jimin touched him made Jungkook feel safe and protected, not judged by his appearance; Jimin was showing him respect and love for how he was.

Jungkook leaned forward to capture the other’s lips in a rough kiss, his dick twitching when he prodded at Jimin’s entrance with a dry finger just to tease, making the other’s eyes flutter closed in pleasure, navel going down as he sucked in a deep breath. At this rate Jungkook wasn’t going to last long.

“Do you have lube?” asked Jungkook, running out of patience as his dick started to leak the more he played with Jimin’s ring of muscle.

“N—no but I have… coconut oil in the bathroom,” replied Jimin, flushing deeply red as the words spilled from his mouth.

“Coconut oil?” questioned Jungkook through slurry words, his mind still a bit foggy from the alcohol he had consumed previously and all the emotions swimming freely inside him, “Isn’t that for your skin or shit like that?”

“Well, yeah?” spluttered Jimin, blushing another shade darker the more he had to explain to a drunken Jungkook, “I looked it up on the internet….it can be used with care if it’s 100% natural coconut oil— shit, this is so embarrassing.” he added, covering his face with both his hands.

“You bought it with that purpose?” asked Jungkook mischievously, imagining a red-faced Jimin ordering coconut oil on the internet.

“No! It was meant for my face!” he exclaimed, uncovering his face to glare at Jungkook, who just smirked in response, “But, well, I— I kinda, yeah….” he admitted before covering his face again.

“You are so cute,” admitted Jungkook, prying Jimin’s hands away from his face so he could lean in for another kiss. Jimin groaned in a childish protest for his words, but melted against his mouth the second after as Jungkook nipped at his bottom lip to pull it open to deepen the kiss. “Wait here, gonna go for it.”

On his way to the bathroom he tripped with their discarded clothes, almost planting his face on the floor, but luckily for him the doorframe was at a reach of a hand, and that saved the little remains of ego he still had undamaged. Though he would have totally let himself fall if that meant Jimin would giggle as cutely as he did when he saw him trip.

The oil was fairly easy to find, the container was innocently resting atop the sink almost as if it was put there beforehand. He smiled to himself, arousal pooling on his lower half as he imagined Jimin trying to finger himself with this.

He found Jimin exactly how he had left him, sprawled on the coach, skin glistening with the faintest hint of sweat and flushed to the ears.

“You are so fucking beautiful.” groaned Jungkook, throwing himself forward in between Jimin’s legs for another kiss. Jimin welcomed him with an open mouth and eager hands that first just pressed him closer for later dug into his skin.

They kept kissing for awhile, panting into each other’s mouth hotly as they played with their tongues, their hips moving in synch with more delicious friction now that their leaking cocks lubricated them enough to make the slide delightful until the thud of something falling to the floor snapped Jungkook out of it.

He fished blindly for the coconut oil container as he sucked harshly on Jimin’s neck, leaving a trail of spit down to his collarbones, though Jimin didn’t seem to mind much by the way he arched himself more into the touch. He opened the lid, the sweet smell of the oil invading the room, and took a bit with two fingers. It was a bit a thick, and Jungkook doubted for a second it could really be used as lube, but then it started to melt on his fingers the more he played with it and that convinced him enough to try. He teased Jimin’s entrance with a slicked up finger, feeding off Jimin’s faint whimper that fell from his parted mouth the more he pressed the finger inside.

Jimin was nervous, Jungkook could tell, and consequently was putting restraint against Jungkook’s finger by clenching his ass at the feel of something on it.

“Relax,” mumbled Jungkook against Jimin’s collarbone, “otherwise it will hurt like hell.”

“I- I know,” said Jimin, voice restrained and rough. Jungkook had never heard such sound coming from the other’s throat; Jimin’s voice always sounded sweet despite the deepness of it, and Jungkook was enjoying the switch. “I’ve fingered myself before, it’s just— I’m nervous because it’s you.”

Jungkook looked up, taking in Jimin’s troubled face, hating the frown settled between his brows. He leaned forward, nipped at Jimin’s bottom lip and pressed his finger inside half-way, swallowing with his own lips Jimin’s little mewl.

“I will make you feel good.” promised Jungkook, pecking Jimin’s lips. The other responded with a high pitched whine as Jungkook prodded with his finger. He had to admit the oil was making the slide easy and its sweet smell made him salivate, giving him the urge to taste it. He discarded the idea, though Jimin would probably enjoy it a lot, but Jungkook was a bit too desperate to keep up with the teasing; there would be other chances for that.

It took all his willpower to be patient, his dick was hard between his legs and the little sounds Jimin kept releasing as Jungkook added more fingers and more pressure just fueled the fire. It was messy and sloppy, but he managed to loosen up Jimin’s muscles to the point the other could only gasp and cling onto him desperate for more, and Jungkook took pride in the fact he was managing to make Jimin’s first time so pleasurable.

“I think— I think I can handle it Jung—“ stuttered Jimin between little gasps of pleasure because of Jungkook’s quick pace. The younger looked up at him, studying his face, his fingers fucking into the other’s hole with fast moves that elicited loud squelching sounds.

“You think so?” he asked just to make sure because it was evident Jimin was ready for something bigger taking in consideration his ass kept clenching every time his fingers went in deeper.

“Yes, please—“

“Ok, shit.” mumbled Jungkook, finally pulling out his fingers. He admired the way Jimin’s ass clenched around nothing, the boy whimpering at the immediate emptiness so the younger quickly repositioned himself better between his parted legs, squeezing those pretty and tanned thighs to have support. “Ok, I’m going. Ready?”

“Yes, please— hurry—“ spat Jimin impatiently, grabby hands on Jungkook’s shoulders. Jungkook chuckled, amused by his evident impatience despite the nervousness that surrounded both of them.

He lubed himself quickly and pushed in slowly, delicately, just the enough pressure for the tip to get in to allow Jimin get used to the stretch. It was different from just three fingers and Jungkook didn’t want to hurt him.

Jimin threw his head back, eyes big like owl staring up at the ceiling as his fingers squeezed Jungkook’s bulging biceps to the point Jungkook felt his nails dig into the skin - surely leaving some marks that would be visible even on his inked skin and that, hopefully, wouldn’t disappear in a couple of days.

Jungkook pressed in a bit more, still slowly but with more confident as Jimin released a tiny sound that he hoped was of pleasure, and kept on going until he was balls deep inside him.

“You— are you ok hyung?” managed to ask Jungkook through gritted teeth; the pressure was too much, his dick surrounded by Jimin’s slick walls and warmth was too much. He wasn’t sure he would last for too long, he just hoped to make it good for Jimin.

“Yeah, just— just give me a second.” Jimin groaned, still clinging onto the other. Jungkook didn’t move, just stood there blinking down at the other waiting for the signal to go. He studied Jimin’s features, the delicate slope of his nose, those warm brown eyes swarmed with lust and with a little sparkle of something more as they stared right back at him. Jungkook’s heart fluttered in happiness and what he thought was love.

Yeah, it definitely it was love.

“Move.” whispered Jimin, hooking up his ankles at the small of Jungkook’s back, his thighs embracing his torso. Jungkook nodded, still in awe by that little moment they had, and rolled his hips languidly eliciting a beautiful gasp from Jimin’s mouth.

Jungkook kept it slow and fluid the first minutes, still scared he could hurt Jimin by moving too fast, but then Jimin pressed him closer with his legs and mumbled a breathy faster against his lips. And Jungkook lost it.

With deep and loud groans he moved his hips quick, kinda messily and losing his rhythm more times than not; it made him travel some years back to when he was still a teenager and tried to not come the moment he put his dick in someone, humping onto them with quick an short thrusts. Jimin managed to do that to him, reduce him to an hormonal and moaning mess. Unbelievable.

But Jimin seemed to be enjoying himself, with his head thrown back, his fingers digging painfully onto Jungkook’s arms and his legs limp at his side, making them bounce with the rhythm of Jungkook’s thrusts.  Jungkook took Jimin’s hard dick with a hand, pumping it fast and hard in tandem with his thrusts. Or so he thought, he was still drunk -not sure if from the alcohol or from Jimin- so his senses were dumb and his brain foggy, everything around him felt like a dream. Jimin on his arms, moaning of pleasure felt like a dream. Jungkook hoped we was really making it good for him.

He felt his muscles tense, his climax approaching too soon for his liking but he was also desperate for release at this point so he quickened his pace on both his hand and hips until he came with an embarrassing high pitched moan, hips stuttering forward and his body falling completely on the other.

He remained stoic for a couple of seconds, breathing hard on Jimin’s neck when the realization that Jimin hadn’t come yet hit him. He reached for the other’s lips with his own, giving Jimin a rough and open mouthed kiss as his hand clenched around his dick and started pumping again, bringing out beautiful groans from Jimin’s throat, thirstily swallowing them all with his mouth. Jimin bucked his hips up, thrusting onto his hand as his hole clenched around Jungkook’s dick, seeking for release that came quickly, splashing the younger’s chest with his come. It was beautiful, Jungkook thought, the way his swollen lips parted and his eyes clenched shut, breathy moan echoing through the silent room.

Jungkook decided this was a sight he wanted all for himself for the rest of his life.

They remained like that for a while, breathing onto each other, bodies pressed tightly and just feeling. Jungkook didn’t mind at all the stickiness between their chests, nor the dampness of their sweaty skin; everything was perfect.

He wasn’t sure how or when he stood up from the sofa to go fetch a towel to clean themselves, but he somehow managed to, taking away all the mess from Jimin’s perfect body with delicate fingers and feather-like kisses.

They tried to cuddle for a while on Jimin’s sofa bed, after the older one explained to him how to open it to get the mattress out, but Jungkook was so tired it didn’t last for long, his heavy eyelids closing on its own as his lips curled up in a satisfied smile.

Jungkook woke up with a painfully throbbing head. He immediately rested the palm of his hand against his forehead, weakly trying to convey the pain away by adding a bit of pressure. He failed, though, his sweaty palm just disgusted him more, adding discomfort to his heated body.

“Fucking shit,” he cursed childishly, eyes opening in surprise when a body pressed closer to his and hot breath hit his collarbones as response. A look to Jimin’s sleeping form served to make him remember the events of the previous night and a sudden rush of embarrassment made his chest and neck flush up to the tip of his ears.

He panicked, because not only had he cried in front of the older one, spilling his secrets and worries, but also managed to confess his feelings. And Jungkook had never cried in front of anyone except for his grandfather, and that had been ages ago.

But his fear dissipated as quickly as it came when, after pondering about the situation for another two seconds, felt less burdened; sure his head hurt like hell, but his heart felt at peace, his mind cleared. Something he didn’t recall feeling ever before, and everything thanks to the night spent with Jimin.

He took another glance to the sleeping boy beside him, curled up towards Jungkook seeking for warmth, his hands fisted, one of them on Jungkook’s tattooed chest next to his squished cheek. A fond smile creeped its way up on his lips as his heart swelled with contentment. This was really unexpected coming from him since never had he felt something like this for anyone; he felt secure and protected with Jimin, like he could let himself get loose and open up to him without being judged. It was refreshing and pleasant and sure something he wished would remain for a long time. That was the reason he had started hanging out with Jimin at first as well, because the older one gave Jungkook the sense of freedom instead of the urge to prove himself constantly.

He decided to let Jimin sleep a bit more, and despite being really comfortable in their current position, he scurried away carefully from under Jimin’s body, fishing his clothes to put on.

He was hungry, and assumed Jimin would too once he woke up, so he grabbed Jimin’s keys once he had freshened in the bathroom and pecked Jimin’s forehead, and tiptoed his way out to go seek for some baked goods.

It took him more time than expected, no bakeries were near where Jimin lived and the one most close to his apartment became not an option when the old man at the counter frowned at him when he stopped at the door to inspect the food, obviously taken aback by Jungkook’s tattooed arms and pierced ears.

On other days, he would have come inside and make an scene, call out the dude for his rude attitude and leave with hands full of free food, but he was in a good mood and Jimin wouldn’t be happy to know he had profusely scared someone just because he felt offended. So he recoiled and kept walking until he found another one that wouldn’t say anything, the lady behind the counter probably used at having people with his looks given the neighborhood they lived in.

He walked back to Jimin’s apartment with a slight bounce on his steps, whistling softly a tune he didn’t know where he had listened to before and no trace of a headache. He felt good, and the world seemed less dull than the previous day. He thought that if any of his buddies saw him they would laugh at him once they would recover from the sight of Jungkook smiling from ear to ear with a genuine smile. But then, he thought he couldn’t care less when the thought of a sleepy Jimin greeting him at his apartment came to his mind. Fuck his image.

He kept whistling happily while he searched for the right key to open the door with one hand, the other holding the bag of freshly-made sweet buns that had his mouth salivating, anticipating Jimin’s sleepy face breaking into one of his beautiful smiles at the sight of them; maybe Jungkook would be able to steal a couple of kisses from him.

He came face to face with a freshly-showered Jimin, damp hair pointing everywhere and clothes two sizes too big on him. Jungkook smiled to himself, taking in the adorable sight in front of him until he spared a look at Jimin’s face.

He seemed surprised, eyes wide fixed on Jungkook who still stood by the door, mouth slightly ajar.

“What?” asked Jungkook, suddenly feeling uneasy at the other’s face. “Is something wrong?”

“I thought— why are you here?” stuttered Jimin, blinking rapidly. Jungkook’s heart sunk to his stomach as sudden panic fell on him. Why was Jimin surprised? Was Jimin not happy to see him? Had jungkook misinterpreted everything? Maybe Jimin hadn’t expected Jungkook to stay; Despite he had said he had wanted this for long, Jimin never said he wanted to repeat.

“I can leave if you want.” answered Jungkook sounding really defensive and forcing himself to not cry. Maybe he had been too positive, too quick on thinking the world was starting to smile at him; maybe the past night with Jimin had just been a fling for him and nothing else; maybe Jungkook had imagined that spark of love and fondness on his eyes. If that was the case, he wouldn’t let Jimin see him cry again, see he had hurt him.

“Wha— no! I don’t—“ said Jimin, taking a step forward as he moved his hands quickly. He seemed troubled, not sure how to react if his awkward stance near the bathroom’s door was anything to go by. “I was just surprised, I thought you left.”

“Well, I did,” mumbled Jungkook, eyes going down to the bag on his hands when holding Jimin’s stare became too much, heart hammering quickly against his ribcage. “I was hungry and thought you would like some sweets for breakfast.”

“Break— breakfast—” stuttered Jimin, voice sounding a bit incredulous under the anxiety that graced the question, “shit— breakfast?”

“Uh…Yes?” answered unsure Jungkook, confusion leveling up at the other’s growing smile. He blinked surprised when Jimin’s laugh broke the silence, observing as Jimin lifted his hands to drag over his face and that muffled a loud groan before he dropped them at the side and stared back at him.

“Shit, Jungkook— I hate you so much,” he said still laughing. Jungkook didn’t have time to react to that because the next second his arms were full of Jimin lifting on his tiptoes to try to kiss him, the citrusy smell of his shampoo invading Jungkook’s senses. He complied, thought, he let Jimin kiss him and hug his neck with both his arms tightly as his brain still tried to process what the fuck had just happened.

“I thought you left and wouldn’t come back.” explained Jimin against his lips before releasing a shaking breath, his eyes swelling up with tears despite the smile on his lips.

“What? no, hyung I wouldn’t—“ Jungkook tried to explain clumsily. He had so much to say, he had practiced on his way back to Jimin’s apartment the words he wanted to use to confess to the other in a less drunk-like manner, but now he couldn’t find the  proper words to convey his feelings. “I would never do that to you.”

Jimin nodded, sniffling loudly before hugging the younger tighter and burying his face on Jungkook’s neck. Jungkook had to embrace him tightly as Jimin dropped all his weight on him, seemingly really relieved to have the younger on his arms again.

“I was cursing at you so bad five minutes ago,” said Jimin, mirth gracing his tone before leaving a soft peck under Jungkook’s ear, “I’ve never said such awful words in my entire life. You have changed me Jeon Jungkook.”

Jungkook laughed as well, amused at the other’s words; only if Jimin knew how much he had changed Jungkook as well.

“I’m sorry Jimin,” he apologized sincerely, breathing in Jimin’s sweet scent. “I truly am.”

“I know silly,” said Jimin, leaning away to stare at him. Jungkook smiled at Jimin’s face, lacking annoyance or hurt despite his reddened eyes; he looked happy and relieved, a look Jungkook wanted to see on his face everyday. “I’m sorry for doubting you, for thinking you would leave… I didn’t see you and I panicked. It hurt to think that what happened last night meant nothing to you after all.”

Jungkook had wanted to surprise the other with breakfast and sweet kisses but instead Jimin woke up to an empty bed and emptier apartment and nothing to warn him about the younger’s whereabouts; Jungkook couldn’t blame him for thinking the worst of the situation. Actually, were Jimin someone else, Jungkook would have left without any remorse.

“It’s ok,” reassured Jungkook leaning in for a quick kiss, not even fighting back the urge of it. Why would he? It felt too good to have Jimin at his reach whenever he desired, it would be stupid of him to refrain himself when kissing Jimin was way more pleasant. “I would have thought same to be honest. But I’m here now and I’m planing to stay for as long as you want me to.”

“That’s good to hear, because I’m not letting you go anywhere.” replied Jimin, bumping their noses together before tilting his head to the side to seal their lips with another kiss. This time it lasted longer as Jungkook pressed Jimin firmly against him when the other tried to lean away; he wanted to put into that kiss his feelings, hoping Jimin would understand how much he felt towards him. And by the way Jimin melted against him, Jungkook knew he had understood.

Junkook was planing to stay forever and Jimin was accepting him with open arms.

[benevolenterrancy]

“Breakfast, McCree?” boomed Reinhardt's voice from the vicinity of the kitchen that McCree was blearily shuffling into.

“You're a good man, Reinhardt,” he said vaguely as he slumped down against the kitchen table.  He wasn't normally this groggy in the morning, but two time changes and a midnight arrival could take the vim right out of a man.

Reinhardt chuckled good-naturedly, and under the comforting dimness of his hat McCree listened to the sounds of Reinhardt navigating the kitchen.  In enclosed, domestic spaces like this, Reinhardt always seemed like he was too big to possible be able to fit.  Bulls and china shops tended to spring to mind.  It always seemed that Reinhardt, if he was to cook, should be outside at some great bonfire as ancient gods watched on, or at the head of an enormous banquet hall – somewhere with elbow room.  It went to show how sleepy McCree was though if he was being that fancifull, after all Reinhardt was just an ordinary man, same as him. ...Well, what with standing about a foot and a half taller than even McCree's very respectable five foot eleven perhaps not quite the same, but still.  Reinhardt moved his massive body around the kitchen with familiar ease, and frankly, celestial bonfire or no, he was one of the better cooks out of the old crew, to McCree's memory.

He told Reinhardt as much; sleep deprivation had never been kind to his mental filters, and in any case it didn't hurt to keep a cook happy.

Reinhardt seemed pleased, in any case.  “It was bad enough with you lot, back in the day,” he told McCree.  There was the sound of a plate being drawn as the griddle gave off the enticing sounds of bubbling grease.  “At least Overwatch had proper cooks.  Travelling with Brigitte...”  He gave his head a dismayed shake.  “Girl would live off engine oil if she could, I reckon.  Had to keep her fed up; she wouldn't be able to tell a spatula from a flathead.  'Course, she said the same to me after she saw what my repairs looked like to the old Crusader,” he added with a laugh.

A plate was dropped into McCree's periphery.  It came with the mouthwater smell of fried meat and ketchup and a lot of things that made McCree's heart flipflop in concern.  Hopefully Angela wouldn't look unkindly on clogged arteries.

“Thanks,” McCree said, fighting his tired body into the approximation of an upright position.

“Think nothing of it!” said Reinhardt.  “It is nice to have someone else up in the mornings again!  I will join you again soon, after I've rousted Brigitte.”

McCree nodded, but his focus was already divided by the breakfast sandwich that he had been delivered.  This sort of distraction was not something Reinhardt would ever find rude – his breakfast sandwiches deserved careful consideration.  Or, rather, demanded it.  Tackling a proper Wilhem breakfast sandwich was trickier than some ops McCree had run for Blackwatch over the years.  For one, they tended to as tall as a man's face, and the man in question was Reinhardt.  Short of unhinging your jaw, eating one was a test of all your merit, but it certainly ensured you were awake by the time you were done – it was either wake up, or choke on a stray strand of bacon that had sensed your lack of focus and attacked.

Gather his courage, McCree clamped his hands around the beast and bravely marched into battle.  He bit into it, teeth fighting through bun and meat and egg.  The egg squirted back in violent retaliation.

The groan that came from his mouth was verging on vulgar.  Had he not been the only person in the room, it may have needed to be censored. This was cooking.  Oh, he'd always enjoyed breakfast, breakfast was a meal that could be eaten at any hour of the day, and any good eatery made sure this was an option, as far as McCree was concerned.  This, though, put all the roadside diners he'd stopped in over the past few years to shame. For one, since this was Reinhardt and he had Feelings about this sort of thing, it would certainly only use named meat – and not names like Spot or Trixie.  There would be no raccoon-and-leftover-roadkill mystery mix in this sandwich, oh no.  McCree could feel the snap of the slightly blackened bacon as it was crushed between thick slabs of pig.  And McCree did identify it as pig not pork, because with how thickly it was sliced all it needed was a curly tail and it could nearly be the whole animal.  The grease tap-danced across McCree tongue only to turn around and tango with the melted cheese.  Then came the gloop. Another important feature of any Wilhelm Breakfast Sandwich was the egg.  It gushed. A solid egg yolk was an offense to Reinhardt's sensibilities and he would consider any breakfast sandwich that didn't leave your hands positively yellow an abject failure.  You couldn't bring any shame to the table when you ate a Wilhelm Breakfast Sandwhich – that got checked at the door and replaced with pure, blissful appetite.

The only thing that distracted from McCree's whole-hearted concentration was the sound of light footsteps from out in the hall.  Lena, McCree identified immediately.  She was the only one with a tread that light who'd be up at this hour.  He grinned broadly at her as the door open, thrilled to see an old friend again for the first time in years.  He gave a little wave with the sandwich – partly in welcome, partly to show the breakfast that awaited her if she found Reinhardt, and partly because if you put this sort of sandwich down after you started eating it it would inevitably explode.

Lena didn't wave back.  This was largely because the person that entered the room was not, in fact, Lena.  It wasn't actually anyone that McCree knew.  He gawked.

Vaguely, he could remember Winston mentioning that another plane was due to arrive shortly after McCree's, but that introductions would have to wait until the morning.

It would appear introductions couldn't wait any longer.

The man stood in the doorway and stared at McCree.  He wasn't particularly tall, but you wouldn't be able to tell at a glance – he had the sort of stance that made him look like the tallest person in the room until he stood next to someone.  Probably had something to do with the fact you had the feeling he was looking down his nose at you, even when he was looking up.  McCree couldn't tell much else about his body, since unlike McCree or Reinhardt he wasn't in his pajamas.  Instead he was fully dressed in a heavy jacket, pants, and boots.  His face though, well, McCree could tell a lot about that face, and most of it went to the tune of hot damn.  It was a proud face. Black lashes and thick brows, an imperious nose and sharp mouth.  You could shave off this man's angles.  His hair was black and silky looking, shaved at the sides, and it all tapered into a neat beard.

McCree was also suddenly very aware of the fact that there was runny yolk dribbling down his wrist and ketchup smeared from the tip of his nose to the tip of his beard.

Well fuck.

“Mm, m'lo,” McCree attempted to say, in a valiant attempt to make this horrible moment that had slowed down to glacial speeds pass a little quicker. The fact that he spayed bread crumbs as he spoke probably didn't help.  He frantically tried to swallow what was in his mouth, but the sandwich could sense weakness and took the opportunity to try to choke him.

“...Hello,” said the man.  He was edging along the wall towards the kitchen cabinets, leaving a wide berth between himself and McCree, as if he thought slobbery gluttonous were contagious.  Or maybe he was just trying to stay out of the splash zone.

McCree figured at this point his best opportunity would be jumping headfirst out the window and testing his lucks against the rocky cliffs beyond.  It would probably be a kinder reception than this stranger's put-off, stony silence.

“Hanzo?  Oh, good, you found the kitchen.  Take whatever you– oh, hey, McCree.”

There was no god in this world.

“'Lo, Genji,” mumbled McCree, giving up.  So it must have been Genji's plane that got in last night.  And that meant... Hanzo... that Hanzo.

McCree tried to say something, but the shock and outrage got trapped up in the cheese and bacon and instead he mostly just gurgled inarticulate noises.  This was Hanzo?  THIS was Hanzo? This was the two-faced, snaky bastard that fucked Genji up?  This was that bastard? McCree had mostly hoped he'd never meet this Hanzo, mostly because he'd much prefer it if the man had had the decency to die in a ditch, like he had tried to do to Genji, but if McCree did ever meet Hanzo, he'd had every intention to try to kill him.  He'd vaguely imagined an epic showdown, telling the cowardly pile of cowshit exactly what McCree thought of him and finally put him down, avenge his friend.

In no scenario did this involve him being rendered inarticulate on breakfast meat.  He tried his best regardless.

Hanzo just cast Genji a desperate, beseeching look.  Who is this madman and how do I stop talking to him? the look said.

Pure, unadulterated fury finally conquered the breakfast sandwich and with a gag McCree was able to swallow what had been waging war in the back of his throat, and he tossed down the rest of the sandwich.  It exploded, but so did McCree.

“You!” he snarled, having nothing much better to say, as he leaped from his chair and gestured a threatening finger.  Yolk glooped off the end of it onto the floor.

“You rather missed your chance, McCree,” said Genji, dryly.  “The effect's somewhat lost.”

“That's not my fault he barged in on me!” cried McCree.  “Why is he even here?  What is going on?  Did he kidnap you?”

Given that Genji's face was hidden behind a flat, unresponsive faceplate, the look he gave McCree was a withering one.

“Yes.  He kidnapped me.  Which is why I am standing here.  Kidnapped.”

McCree mentally backpedaled and tried to reshape this entire scenario in a way that made sense.  Genji was here.  He seemed to want to be here. Hanzo was here, and he couldn't be here if someone hadn't brought him here, presumably Genji.  Genji was not actively trying to kill Hanzo, which was perhaps the bit that baffled McCree the most.  Genji's normal range of emotions, as far as he remembered, had a tendency to slide between generally pissed off at the world and furious at his brother. Actually, everything considered, this was the most mellow he thought he'd ever seen Genji which didn't make any sense since his brother was, actively, standing right next to him.

“Overwatch needs people.  Hanzo has offered his services,” said Genji finally, taking pity on McCree's baffled expression.

“But he tried to kill you?” said McCree weakly.

Hanzo shifted uncomfortable.  The bastard.

“Oh right, I'd nearly forgotten,” said Genji.

“We have... reconnected, since then,” said Hanzo, awkwardly.

McCree stared openly.  This was too much to process on the little sleep he'd had. So he took the only option that seemed reasonable at the moment: he punched Hanzo square in the face.

Genji screamed at him, but Hanzo, not expecting the misfirings of McCree's sleepy brain, collapsed with a crash to the ground.  McCree stood dazedly surrounded by Shimadas, shaking his sore fist.  His sandwich had since congealed into something indigestible, which seemed like a real shame, he thought distantly while Genji shook him angrily by the shoulder.

It was going to be a long morning.

[brianjameson]

So today was an amazing day sort of a moment of realization for me.

Lets start by saying Sunday was a shitty day.

I was driving up to Red Rock because I wanted to take my nephew to go see the mountains. He’s young and a kid so he has a tendency to play video games all day and watch television and never really gets out. I figured I’d take him to go to the mountains and just really take in the beauty that’s around him and outside of home and video games.

On the way to Red Rock there were a couple of cars in front of me and it was beyond windy so there was a ton of shit flying around everywhere. I didn’t think the weather was too bad until I got up there and it was raining and sort of snowing because of how cold it was. Something was in the road and I had seen people drive past it but I couldn’t tell if they were running over it so I run over what I think was a post that keeps the fences up and my tire just fucking POPS! immediately my low tire signal came on and I had to pull over on the side of the road. The minute I hit the pole I just knew my tire was done and my nephew was like yeah I think your tire popped.. But he said it in such a calm way where it was almost concerning that something could of possibly happened to us with all that wind and thank god I wasn’t going fast or anything.

I step out of my car to look and sure enough my tire is legit RUINED. So popped beyond belief or repair and even the wheel was dented. I wanted to cry. Only thing I could think about was how much money I was going to have to spend that I don’t have right now on things like this.. I sat there for a moment and just asked God like WHYYY, why me. Meanwhile my nephew is sitting beside me completely calm to where I was just looking like him like, are you serious? This isn’t concerning to you? lol

I know he’s a kid but as a kid I would of been so mortified and scared and my first thought would of been “how are we getting home?!” but he was just so calm and just straight up talking my ear off about random things while I couldn’t even keep my thoughts straight because of everything running through my mind lol.

I end up calling Nick and telling him what had happened so he was over in about 25 min to help change my tire to my spare. During our wait I stepped out and just figured well, there ain’t shit I can do and I’m gonna have to spend whatever I have on a new tire next week and that’s fine. I just felt like if my nephew wasn’t even worried then he probably feels like things like that get fixed anyways and that’s very much so his attitude towards things. So I took his advice on how he was feeling towards the situation and said screw it, I came up here to take photos and show him around and that’s what I’m going to do. Things like this happen to just about everyone and maybe it was just my turn.

So I took a couple of selfies and took some photos of him and of the mountain. The mountain was gorgeous, it was so overcast that the sun coming through just gave it a beautiful glow.

I ended up taking him back to the house and we just watched TV and hung out. It was good alone to just see him.

The moral of the story that day was to just be happy even in the most shitty of circumstances. It’s something I’ve never really enjoyed doing because it takes me a minute to really gather my thoughts but having my nephew with me that day actually helped me calm down and really hear myself think and to just enjoy what was around me which was the beautiful overcast weather and great big mountains.

So this week so far has been going just absolutely amazing. To start, I passed my state board exam and received my Cosmo license!!!!

HUGE accomplishment for me, truly. It’s something I’ve dreamt of since I was about 15 years old. I cried, I laughed I called my mom and it sounded like she even wanted to cry lol. It’s been a struggle but at the end of every tunnel I felt I was in, I ALWAYS saw a light. It’s the biggest joy, feeling like I did something I sought out to do years ago and managed to get this far and to be able to call myself a Cosmetologist now? Just wow. I’m proud of myself and proud of just how hard I pushed myself in school and the amount of support I received from friends and family during this time was just incredible.

It all happened so quick too! I scheduled my appointment a week before my test. I scheduled my appointment with the lady who I was renting my kit from the day before my test so I literally had no time to study for my practical so I just blew through it with Nick for 5-6 hours. I prayed to God most of the night to just not let me fail lol. I seriously would wake up revising the steps on how to remove everything from my kit when at the practical. I ran off of about 3-4 hours of sleep so I was rattled when I took it. But I made it! :)

Today I had so much to do. Since I screwed my tire up I went to Discount Tire to get a new one. I spent way less than I thought I’d have to spend so that was a delight and luckily they were able to bend my wheels rim back into place! Meaning I didn’t need to spend on anything else other than a tire. During this time I received a phone call from an agent telling me I would be getting health coverage which made me happy too! I’m 26 now so I’m no longer on my mothers insurance plan and needed to get my own. I get home and then receive an incredible text that I’ll share to come, can’t speak to soon on it. But it was a good one! I was feeling fucking good dude. So I wanted to keep the mood going so I went to go get my oil changed and a well needed car wash. My air filter was just done for and my car was so dirty and hasn’t been washed in MONTHS. After I got all of that square out of the way I decided to take my camera and go take photos at Red Rock. I really wanted to get a good picture of the sunset but it was a little too bright to really get a good picture of the sky but I got some pretty good photos. I was up there for about an hour n a half and it felt like 30 min.

I have an obsession for the outdoor and for mountains especially. I get lost just looking at them. Maybe it’s because they’re such huge structures of nature? Sometimes I feel like I can even see images on the mountains. Like this

Almost looks like an Indian face with the top of the mountain being the red paint Indians would put on.

Red Rock especially captivates me because it was land to different Indian tribes many many years ago and every time I look at it I almost see where it could of been home to Indians. If you’re interested on reading the history behind it just CLICK THIS LINK

But I just wanted to go up there and really appreciate everything great that happened today. It’s been a struggle lately and I’ve needed some real good news and joy in my life so whenever I feel good or need a pick me up I just go to the mountains.

I sat there and just felt so thankful for everything as of the past year up until now and all the accomplishments I’ve made. I know I always talk about being happy and optimistic and just to always do everything with a smile but there’s just been so much going on that I always find the light in every bad situation. To feel HAPPY because of the amount of good news I received today without having to try to be happy or trying to find the light in a bad situation, just really made my day. It’s what I’ve needed. I have more exciting news and a much longer blog about some things I want to open up about in detail.

Feel free to check out my photos from today! I’ll post some here and some on my website.

http://www.brianjamesonphotos.com

I hope you all enjoy. <3

Hidden Blessings So today was an amazing day sort of a moment of realization for me. Lets start by saying Sunday was a shitty day.

[asryakino]

I want to work. 

I like working. I have a decent job working with kids that’s fullfilling mentally and is worlds better than the soul crushing retail and food service (and the dreaded retail/service job of handing out demos) jobs I had before. 

I like my job. I like my work. I even like my coworkers and that I get to make kiddos happy by being ‘the cool adult’ who knows things like video games and social media. 

Which is why I’m so fucking gutted that I’m goddamn terrified to drive my truck in its current condition because I have NO brakes. At all. None. I can hear the grinding, stopping is almost non existent and the tires were already pretty shite to begin with but it’s a reliable truck otherwise. 

But I haven’t been able to afford maintenance. Because I can’t even afford basic bills. I’m constantly behind, trying to scrape enough by to cover gas and food. I’m trying to care for mom, and dad. Which is harder when one of them lives out in the middle of bumfucked NOWHERE literally a place that is nothing but farms and barren hills 

I drive out there on weekends so he doesn’t have to live on his own, I take care of her when I’m not at work. I drive her to doctor appointments, out shopping, all over town. I take her anywhere she wants if it gets her out of the house. 

I have a full time job in trying to take care of mom. A weekend job of trying to keep my dad sane and from ending up BACK in the hospital. But just... 

my job isn’t in one place. I get sent AAAAAALL over the city to go where I’m needed. And it’s not a tiny town. It’s a fairly big city (fifth largest in the state and quickly beginning to dwarf out the fourth)

I need my job. It’s how I keep MY sanity. I’m only allowed to get out of the house to work. Because if I go out for self-fullfillment and social reasons I get guilted for a week. Because I have friends and a social life sometimes. When the stars align and the planets power up and the moon is blue and black all at once. I get to have a social night out. 

But only if I remember to bring mom a thithe for having a night out that didn’t include her. Because otherwise it’s a week of using silence as a weapon and refusing to tell me -anything- and then getting MORE angry because I don’t read minds and can’t tell what she wants, when she wants it and how she wants it all done. 

But... fuck it. This is a rant. I was going to apologize but it’s under a readmore already. 

I just spent an hour and a half bawling my fucking eyes out because I need money. I don’t WANT money, I literally NEED it. Because if I don’t get the fucking truck fixed. I can’t go to work. If I can’t go to work, I can’t earn money to continue doing things like - eat... and go to work. I Two things on the top of my list that I would like to do. Continue eating and continue going to work. 

Work is a sanity replenishing place. Even when it’s frustrating. I need to be able to go to work. Because it means I’m not a fucking failure to the small handful of people who matter. It means I’m not everything most of my family already believes I am and going to work means they can’t just write me off as being a lazy, entitled, shitlord. 

Like the exact lazy, sleeps-until-noon, selfish, entitled, uninformed,filthy, ignorant fucknugget my mother presents me as to literally everyone else in the family.   “Well she’s a horrible maid.” - said about the house being a mess, she’s a fucking hoarder and was buying 400$ worth of shit every fucking month for a YEAR until I quit working at the store she was constantly buying from. And she goes into panic attacks and anxiety attacks if I try to clean anything, move it or throw it away. “SHE has seven cats.” - About the cats we’ve rescued BECAUSE SHE INSISTED WE TAKE THEM IN AND NOT ADOPT THEM OUT BECAUSE “No one will love them right.” The very same cats that I said ‘let’s just get this one TNR’ed and set up a shelter, he doesn’t need to come inside we have too many cats.’ and she insisted that it was too cold for them, they needed to come in. I end up with the blame for the house being ruined by cats she insisted we take on. “She locks me in my room at night.” - Said in ‘jest’ whenever anyone asks what she does. She tells this to random strangers. She tells this exact words to absolute strangers. In reality she refuses to leave her room 90% of the time. She outright wastes my whole damn day on a regular basis by saying she wants to go out, refusing to get ready to go out, then languishes in her room and claims that everyone hates her, she doesn’t want to go out because the world hates disabled people and that she’s worthless and unnecessary and I don’t need her to go do (whatever) because I only need her money. All in a tone that implies that I don’t care about her or anything that I’m only after her money.  She’s racist, rude, disabled, and narcissistic. There is a massive list of words I’m not allowed to say in her presence but I’m not allowed to know them until after I’ve made the mistake of saying them and utterly ruining her day. (One of which is ‘hoarder’ because mentioning the term around her immediately shuts her down. I am also not allowed to mention her weight, age, or looks. But I am subject to being called ‘porker’ ‘fatback’ ‘full moon’ and other phrases connected to my weight and what I look like in my preferred clothes.) I’m not allowed to be in her prescence while displaying ANY emotion except pure joy and happiness. No matter WHAT she says, does, or how my life is going. Because to do so means that I am personally attacking her, and that I hate her, wish her ill, and want her dead. So no matter what she says about ANYTHING (and she has plenty to say about everything) I am to smile, nod, and agree. And she will read off graphic, disgusting articles from dubious police reports about rape, murder, physical violence and animal abuse. And expects me at all times to never interrupt her, to simply listen, and wants me to be angry at absolutely no one with her because SHE has made herself angry and “Has a good strong angry going” and doesn’t want me to “ruin it”. All this despite my begging, pleading, and eventually yelling at her that I didn’t want to hear about shit like that. That I am fully and wholly aware of how much SHIT is in the world and how the world is utter garbage, but that I am trying very, VERY hard to remain positive, to create the change I want to see in it and to be happy, DESPITE all the bullshit.  This break only came after she had been snappy with me for daring to visit my best friend after work, TELLING her, well in advance I was going to. And when I got back home she IMMEDIATELY decided to read to me an article about SOME nameless college girl who’s roommate (also nameless) microwaved her kitten because she was angry at her. There was no solution, no justice at the end of the piece. She was reading it, in graphic detail with plenty of imagry just because it made HER angry and she wanted ME to be angry, but not to show it. I finally snapped and screamed at her for an hour about how I didn’t want to hear anything like that, that I was trying to claw my way out of depression and shit...

She has since gone back to reading that kind of fucked up bullshit to me no matter what and it has, predictably, not helped me at all. 

ON TOP OF ALL THAT FUCKED UP SHIT

I am the only child. My parents are fucked up. And I have the social expectations to take care of them.  She’s going through early onset dementia/althemiers. Not that anyone in the medical field believes me because she’s cognitive enough on tests to lie about how she feels and is doing. And they don’t live with her 24/7 to observe the shit I see on a daily basis. She has cancer, it’s making things worse. She has diabetes, and THAT isn’t helping. And it’s all through the VA, and between that, HER depression (which counts because it’s her’s and I obviously have NOTHING to be depressed about) she can’t talk on phones for appointments. She’s mostly deaf because of the tinnitus. 

I am her companion, appointment scheduler, valet, cook, support system, personal assistant, and overall caregiver. 

I don’t get paid for it.

And on top of ALL that... On top of everything else I have to handle.  I just want to go to work.

But the brakes are out on the truck. And I didn’t get paid.

Not one fucking cent becuase I work on a school schedule. We had fall break, and I got sick the week following and couln’t speak, so I couldn’t work. And THIS paycheque period was for THAT EXACT TIME so.. no cheque. At all.

No money.

I have a quarter tank of gas in a truck that has NO brakes, the oil needs changing, the battery doesn’t actually start the car every time I turn the key, and the tires are so bald they are nearly slicks for racing. I am currently TERRIFIED to drive. At all. Because if I don’t skid off the road due to the brakes suddenly giving out, I may get to my destination and the truck just.... NOT START because the battery has decided to be a fucking dick about it being one degree colder than it feels like providing power in. 

Every time I get in the truck I run the risk of not leaving for work, or not coming home. And when I’m on the road I run the risk of ‘if the car ahead of me slams on his brakes, will I actually be able to physically stop. Can I pull hard to the side if I can’t?’. 

I pray for some company vehicle to hit me, to crush the vehicle so I can get the repairs done that I need to be able to just drive... because I can’t afford them. I don’t get paid enough to survive and pay what small amount of bills I have. I can’t get a loan... my student debt has utterly and completely ensured that the most money I will EVER qualify for is 200 bucks. 

I need brakes. And I know for a fucking fact that they won’t replace my brakes without tie-rods, calipers, and bearings. Because they NEVER replace my brakes without refusing to do so unless I get tie-rods, calipers, and bearings. Because fuck me, that’s why. Becuase I’m a GIRL I don’t know about cars. 

And if they write off that my car’s not safe because I didn’t get the tie-rods, calipers, and bearings replaced. I CAN GET ARRESTED FOR DRIVING AN UNSAFE AND NON ROADWORTHY VEHICLE

Brakes are 87 a piece, but tie=rods, calipers, and bearings? Well that’s 500 at LEAST.... and that’s just the tie-rods and bearings, calipers and brakes will be another 700... 

I don’t know where to go. I don’t know what to do.

I just want to work. I want to be able to make a positive change in the world and work... and prove to the people around me that I’m not what they think I am... 

I want to be able to stop crying when I get home...

I want to feel safe on the road and be secure that if I hit the brakes, the car will stop. 

And it seems like it’s all too much to ask.

[criticalerrorka]

Sharing the Excitement

I don’t share a lot of my personal life, or really make many original posts these days. This can be mostly attributed to the fact that I am always on mobile and don’t like the limited amount of editing I can do or the time that it takes me to write out long things on a phone keyboard. 

So, I’ve been driving a piece of shit car for the last 6 years. A 1998 Chrysler Sebring JXi convertible with a salvage title and a slow-drip oil hemorrhage. Within the first year of owning this car, I began putting away savings for a different car. See, this car had always been intended as a “temporary fix.” It was bought for me (by my dad, from one of his good friends) when my 1998 Dodge Stratus took it’s fourth or fifth shit. The damn thing had over 200k miles on it and we sold it for scrap (the Dodge, not the Chrysler).

Problems my Sebring has developed over our six year relationship include but are not limited to:

Dead trunk suspension. TBH, I think it might’ve been dead when I got the car. For most of my car’s duration with me, I have had my “trunk stick”, which I wedge into the trunk of the car to hold it open. 

A steady leak at the front windows during heavy rain.

A back window dropped off the track, then Macgyvered to stay mostly closed (with about a half inch gap) and never open again. Also leaky.

A driver’s seat belt that frequently tries to merge you with the seat because it’s locking up and won’t loosen, only tighten. 

A water leak in an unknown and unidentifiable location that guaranteed every three to four days I would have to check my fluid levels before driving the car.

A gas gauge needle that won’t go above 3/4 tank, so even when I spent extra money filling the tank, I never got the satisfaction of seeing the needle on FULL. Also, couldn’t quite trust it when it got close to empty.

A dysfunctional horn that also had to be Macgyvered--my dad rewired it to a weird little button on a string that sat in one corner of my dashboard. Super-impracticable, but it passed inspection. Prior to the re-wiring, the fuse for the horn had been pulled out, because one cold morning I went outside, cranked my car to warm it up, hit lock on my key fob to keep strangers out of my cranked car while I went back in to finish getting ready... and promptly began panicking, because instead of a single “honk” to indicate the car had locked, I was greeted with “HOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK” and NOTHING WOULD STOP IT. My horn was stuck in the “on” position at fucking 6:30 in the morning and I had to barrel back inside and wake up my boyfriend because I had no fucking clue what to do. 

Illegal tint. My dad bought this car from a collision repair center owned by a friend of his. It had been the friend’s wife’s car before she upgraded. (Ironically, this woman used to drive me to school in the 7th grade because they lived in my neighborhood and her daughter was a grade below me, and at the time this car was my DREAM car, because I didn’t know anything about cars but it was purple, and this was like 2001 so it was relatively new.) So, car guy KNOWS the tint isn’t inspection-legal. But for the first few years I own the car, no one at the inspection station cares. It’s JUST BARELY out of the legal range, not super-blackout-tint or anything like that. Then one day I fail inspection, I’m told that police have been cracking down on tint more so the inspection guys likewise aren’t looking the other way, and I have to go home and peel off all of my already-failing tint with a razor blade and a hair dryer. 

Magic smoke. Like, a LOT of magic smoke. At some point, she had been cured of the magic smoke (not sure what surgery helped with that). But for a while, it was embarrassing to go through a drive thru or any place my car would be idling for a while, because I would just be smokescreening the people behind me.

Extreme seat-cushion cracks, deterioration, exposure. My driver’s seat was 2/3 exposed foam.

Never gets warm. Between the compromised windows and the overall shitshow status of the car, it would take about 20 minutes for hot air to start coming out of the vents. And even then, the car would never truly feel warm.

A stuck passenger seat. Like, something got stuck in the track so it wouldn’t slide forward or back anymore.

Oh, I almost forgot about this one! One time I was vacuuming the car and I moved my driver seat all the way up and IT GOT STUCK. I had to drive with it like that, dangerously close to my steering wheel, windshield, and airbag, for a very terrifying 15 minutes to interrupt my dad at his job so I didn’t have to worry about an airbag snapping my neck.

One of the speakers died. I don’t think I blew it out--I hate bass and I don’t listen to my music very loud. It just gave up.

Around the same time the horn got an attitude, it stopped making any sound when I locked my car. I used to just spam the lock key and listen for the beep if I was in a crowded parking lot trying to find my car, but this was taken away from me. 

Towards the end, the locking mechanisms’s relation to my key fob was very strained by cold weather. If it was below freezing in the morning, I would have to unlock the door with the key itself instead of the button.

For a while, some of the electrical stuff was funny. The CD player wouldn’t get power and I would have to pound on the dashboard or wiggle the key around the ignition. If the radio wasn’t working, I knew my turning signals also weren’t working (much more concerning).

At some point it developed the ability to release the key without the key being in the proper position, so I had to be extra careful that I didn’t wind the key back too far so that the radio was running before I took the keys out. 

These next bits weren’t the car’s fault, but were still annoying to deal with. I broke my passenger side mirror on the world’s skinniest tree and it just sort of flopped for a while. Then, I dented the shit out of my passenger front corner panel when I sunk my tire into a pothole/storm drain combo. The panel was bent so badly you couldn’t open the door enough to let a person in or out. A coworker’s mechanically-savvy friend, a little bit of money, and a trip to the junkyard afforded me a replacement mirror and a new, non-matching quarter panel. I could have cared less about the look, but now I had a giant clashing square of burgundy on my purple car, more or less telling everyone around me “I LIKE TO HIT THINGS”.

Now mind you, I haven’t even gotten into the mechanical problems that grounded her for a while; she’s needed several surgeries, including her starter, her water pump, her fuel pump...I really can’t remember everything. It’s never been a huge, expensive fix, but it’s always been something very time consuming.

Oh, here’s a fun side-note about Chryslers; well, at least this one. I will NEVER buy another one so I can’t continue my research on this, but it seems Chrysler at least at some point was a malicious company that wanted to make sure the everyman had zero ability to work on their vehicles and would have to take them to the dealer for any sort of maintenance or repair. EVERYTHING is in a weird and inconvenient location inside this car. The goddamn battery was right above one of my wheel wells--I couldn’t even get my battery replaced at an auto-parts store like Auto Zone or O’Reily’s because THE DAMN CAR HAS TO GO ON A LIFT TO GET THE BATTERY OUT.

On Wednesday, January 10th, I was driving the 2-3 miles home from work, cutting through an apartment complex’s connecting road, and my RPMs dropped to zero. My power steering went out. I pulled my car into the parking lot, shut her off, and she wouldn’t crank. It just kept turning and turning and turning and turning, but would never spark.

Thank all the gods for AAA. I got her towed home. My boyfriend tried what little he could with the limited time he’s had: check battery, change fuses, things of that nature. But he’s been working a lot, and it’s been so fucking cold, he hasn’t really had the time to fiddle with her.

So for 10 days I’ve been getting rides to the bare necessity of places: work, home, and one doctor’s appointment (s/o to my best friend for making sure I got to where I needed to be). 

Friday, January 19, I left my boyfriend parked outside my work while I did my once-over before locking the place up. My manager was out of town and I was left in charge, so I was very meticulously making sure I had shut down and locked everything. Needless to say, he had to wait on me a good 15 minutes while I got my ducks in a row.

And wouldn’t you know, that wonderful man got on craigslist (after YEARS, mind you, of leaving me to be the one to do the searches while he provided second opinions) and lined up a test-drive with a private party, and the location was a place I drove by every day on my way to and from work. 

And guys? GUYS?!

She’s a 2009 Toyota Corolla and her name is Rebecca after Lori Petty’s character in Tank Girl, and I love her so much.

tldr: I’ve been driving a shitty car for 6 years, searching for an upgrade for 5 of those years, and yesterday I FINALLY bought another car. I had a 1998 Chrysler Sebring, it died, and I found a 2009 Toyota Corolla. 

And I really just can’t put into words how much weight has been lifted off of me. I’ve been terrified of my car for years. I’ve been searching, and struggling, and I’ve met up with at least a dozen people to test drive their cars and always left disappointed. And finally, finally, I’m free.