#don't test me i can drop any social media at any fucking time

[miserywizard]

also because i've been getting some Notes if you wandered here from my other blog because of algorithm nonsense i am clutching your face between my hands don't be fucking weird.

[buckets-and-trees]

This look is so intense, so don't-give-a-fuck. It does darker things to me... And the hair is a bit messy. It got my muse spiraling down a bit of a dirty course of thought.

Title: Parking Lot Chem Characters/Pairings: raunchy!Bucky x curvy!female reader Word Count: 6.7k Summary: In a bit of a loser era, divorced, dirty, not giving much of a damn about anything, Bucky works a bit of an unconventional night shift that leaves him with a lot of time to kill.

Content Warnings: modern AU, hook up culture, explicit and rough smut, oral (male receiving)/deep throating, vaginal fingering, squirting, multiple orgasms, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex, objectification, naked vs. clothed imbalance, coercion, use of "baby" as a term of endearment, dacryphilia, praise, mild degradation (teasing/mean but not vicious), general dirty talk, slight innocence/ruining kink, implied cockwarming, cum play/marking, sex in a semi-public place

Author Notes: I moved to a new apartment in the spring, and I noticed kind of an interesting thing that happens on weeknights across the street from my place. It got my mind spinning, and months later, I'm finally playing with the concept.

Logistical Notes: My July entry for @buckybarnesevents Build-a-Bucky-Bingo using the DEEP THROATING prompt and week 9 of Hot Bucky Summer using the WET AND MESSY prompt.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

“Fuck,” he whispers in the dark. Desire and adrenaline rev in his veins at the sight of your headlights parking just where he��d told you to, across the street from the business park complex, in front of the residential apartments.

Bucky’s been working this job for six weeks, and it’s a joke, but it’s a decent-paying joke of a job. From 10pm until 6am, all he has to do is periodically drive a pick up truck around around the large parking lot that services the two business buildings to the north and south of the lot, make sure no one from the apartments across the street to the east or west side park in the lot overnight, and ticket and boot any cars if a resident or visitor is stupid enough to roll the dice and try. Yellow-amber flashing lights affixed to the roof of the truck’s cab, it’s Bucky’s responsibility to deter and keep things clear so that the employees for the companies housed at this business complex can show up and park free of cars, at least one potential hassle eliminated from their corporate working routine.

Eight hours of paid nearly-free time, unbothered by anyone or anything, in the quiet of the night.

He won’t work this job forever, but it sure as shit beats some of the other unappealing options after getting fired from his last job.

He’s read a lot of books sitting in this truck’s cab. He’s played a lot of games on his phone. He’s started putting in a lot of applications for other jobs and even a couple of masters programs. He’s too caught up on news, memes, and social media.

A couple of weeks ago he decided to download a couple of dating apps again, fish and see what’s out there. He’s been divorced for two years now, and Steve and Sam have been dropping hints that he should try and put himself out there again.

Last week he downloaded an app he saw mentioned by a couple of people in chats on the other dating apps - this one known for being a thinly veiled “dating” app full of people who might not be looking for a date so much as a bit of unattached fun.

He started talking to you two nights ago.

There really were plenty of people who were trying to use this particular app for legitimate dating.

But there were subtle signs, particular turns of phrase, avenues of conversation that you could test the waters with to uncover someone else who just wanted to quench some thirst.

And here you were.

Bucky shifts the truck from idle, and drives down the row of parking spaces, turns left to slowly drive down the north side, looking like he’s making one of his routine twice-an-hour laps around the lot, and then takes another left when he gets to the end. He flashes his headlights, and then he smiles as he sees you push open your door and slip out of the car.

“Fuck,” he moans, taking in the first sight of you.

You hastily look both ways - confirming that no one is coming down the road at this godforsaken time of night - then cross the street and step up to the curb just as Bucky pulls up next to you.

He reaches across to push the door open for you - a friendly gesture, certainly not a gentlemanly one, as there is nothing gentlemanly about his intentions toward you tonight.

“Hi,” you say, almost a little breathless. He assumes you must be a little nervous.

That’s cute.

He’s going to ruin you.

If you took any notice of the way he leers at you as you climb up into the cab with him, you would know, and you might hesitate or rethink this poor decision.

But you don’t.

And now the wolf has his prey.

He won’t harm you, but he’s certainly going to have his way with you.

"Hey there," Bucky replies, his voice a low rumble. "Glad you could make it."

You settle into the passenger seat, your eyes darting around the cab nervously. The air feels thick with anticipation. Bucky drinks in the sight of you - flushed cheeks, slightly disheveled hair, the rapid rise and fall of your chest betraying your excitement.

He puts the truck in drive and cruises slowly through the lot, amber lights still flashing above. "So," he drawls, "first time doing something like this?"

You nod, biting your lip. "Yeah, I've never... I mean, I don't usually..."

Bucky chuckles. You might be lying, but he thinks it’s probably true that you haven’t hooked up on this app before. If you made a habit of it, this probably would’ve happened the first night you started chatting.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. You’re safe with me." His hand leaves the steering wheel, landing on your thigh. You inhale sharply at the contact, but don't pull away. And he’s not lying. You’re safe, but he plans to thoroughly ruin you before sunrise.

He feels your muscles tense under his palm, but you don't push him away. Instead, you ease into his touch ever so slightly. Bucky smirks, knowing he's got you right where he wants you. But he will play this out slowly.

"So," he says, his voice low and husky, "what you're hoping to get out of tonight."

You swallow hard, your eyes fixed on his hand on your thigh. "I… I'm not sure.” Then your eyes flicked back up to his. “I just knew I wanted to meet you."

Bucky's thumb begins to trace small circles on your leg, inching higher with each rotation. "That so? Well, I've got a few ideas of my own, if you're interested."

He feels the tiny shiver roll through your body, and he bites back a groan.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, but tell me more about you. What’s a sweet thing like you needing a dating app for?” he asks, steering you into conversational waters. He wants you to get more comfortable with him, relaxed, so he can ultimately have you completely pliant for him.

You laugh nervously, a hint of self-deprecation in your voice. "Oh, you know. Work keeps me busy. I don't really get out much."

Bucky nods, his eyes still on the road as he steers the truck around another corner of the lot. "What kind of work do you do?"

"I'm in marketing," you reply, relaxing a bit as the conversation turns to safer ground. "It's interesting, but the hours can be long. What about you? Do you... always work nights like this?"

Bucky chuckles. "Nah, this is just temporary. Needed something to pay the bills while I figure out my next move."

His hand is still on your thigh, warm and heavy. He can tell you're acutely aware of it, of how his thumb continues its lazy circles, inching higher with each pass. Your breath catches as he reaches a particularly sensitive spot, and he stops with the circles, but leaves his hand there. He loves that you wore leggings. He can feel every movement of your muscles. You’re stupid for not knowing how intimate that is - or for underestimating how it would drive him wild. He continues to drive. He only needs to circle the lot every thirty to forty-five minutes, but he knows this driving is part of easing you further into this.

"So, marketing," Bucky muses, his voice a low rumble. "That must keep you on your toes. Always chasing the next trend, right?"

You give a small nod, your gaze flickering between his hand still resting on your thigh the unchanging view - familiar to him, but unfamiliar to you - as he continues to drive. "Yeah, it can be pretty intense. But I like the challenge."

Bucky hums in agreement, his eyes alternating between you and the road. "I bet you're good at it too. Reading people, figuring out what they want."

You laugh nervously. "I try. But clearly I'm not that good at reading situations, or I wouldn't be here."

Bucky's hand tightens slightly on your thigh. "Oh, I wouldn't say that. I think you read this situation perfectly."

His words hang in the air between you, charged with promise. You swallow hard, your pulse quickening.

"Just two people wanting to spend time together - nothing more complicated than that,” he reassures you. It’s not a lie. And then he leads you down a slew of safe paths of conversation. Your family, your roommates, where you went for college, places you’d like to travel, a bit about your social life. The more he asks, the more you open up. He clocks some of your responses, but he’s far more interested in how you’re feeling with him, the verbal and non-verbal cues he reads as the minutes turn into an hour. Twenty minutes into that hour, he’d been able to park in the middle of the lot, and you hadn’t batted an eye, completely at ease.

Occasionally your fingers fidget in your lap. Both of you have turned to angle your bodies toward the other. There’s no barrier between you - it’s a full bench seat across from driver to passenger side.

He decides to push things a little further.

"So, back to your marketing expertise?" he says, his voice low and smooth.

You playfully roll your eyes. “I’m not an expert. If I were an expert, I’d be driving a much better car already,” you laugh.

"No, no,” Bucky laughs along with you. “But you said you do have a pretty good job in your firm. Must mean you're… let’s say proficient at selling things? At... persuasion?"

You giggle nervously, maybe a little surprised at the turn of tactic. "I guess you could say that. Why do you ask?"

Bucky's hand slides up your thigh, just a fraction higher. "Just wondering what it might take to persuade you to do something a little... risky tonight."

Your breath hitches audibly. "What... what did you have in mind?"

He smirks, loving how eagerly you've taken his bait. "Well, we've got this whole parking lot to ourselves. No one around for hours. Seems a shame to waste such privacy.”

Another soft nervous laugh falls from your lips, and your eyes dart around. “I don’t know how private this is. We’re in the middle of an open parking lot.”

“Trust me, I’m the expert in this area, and no one is going to even come close to the cab of this truck.”

Your eyes widen slightly at his words, a mix of excitement and apprehension flickering across your face. "I... I'm not sure," you stammer, but your body language tells a different story. You've leaned in closer, your breath quickening.

Bucky's hand slides higher up your thigh, his fingers tracing patterns on the inside of your leg. "Come on, sweet girl," he murmurs, his voice low and persuasive. "Where's your sense of adventure?"

You bite your lip, clearly torn between desire and caution.

His other hand moves to cup your face, thumb brushing across your cheek. You lean into his touch, eyes fluttering closed for a moment.

Bucky’s easy smile grows to a smirk. A few more cautious moments, and he knows you’ll be his. His hand slides even higher up your leg, fingertips just barely brushing the junction of your thighs. "How about we start with a kiss and see where things go from there?"

Your breath catches audibly, and for a moment, Bucky thinks you might refuse.

"I don't usually do this kind of thing," you murmur, even as you lean slightly into his touch.

"I know," Bucky says softly, his voice a low rumble. The wolf inside him is clawing at his chest to claim you, to ruin you, but he knows he can’t pounce yet. He needs you to ease completely into his trap.

Then you nod, almost imperceptibly. "Okay," you whisper.

Bucky's eyes darken with desire as he leans in, closing the distance between you. His lips brush against yours softly at first, giving you a final chance to pull away if you change your mind. But you don't. Instead, you press forward, deepening the kiss.

He groans low in his throat, his hand tightening on your thigh as the other slides to the back of your neck, gripping gently. The kiss quickly turns heated, all pretense of hesitation melting away as your lips move against each other hungrily.

Bucky's tongue traces the seam of your lips, seeking entrance, and you eagerly grant it. As your tongues tangle, he shifts closer, using his grip at the nape of your neck to tilt your head, allowing him better access.

You whimper softly into his mouth, your hands coming up to clutch at his shoulders. He can feel the heat radiating between you. His hand on your thigh tightens, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss. A soft whimper escapes you as his tongue slides against yours, and he can feel the last of your reservations melting away. Your hands, which had been fidgeting in your lap, now reach up to grip his shoulders.

As the kiss intensifies, Bucky's hand on your thigh inches higher, his fingers ghosting over your center through your leggings. You gasp into his mouth, your hips instinctively pushing forward to chase his touch.

He breaks the kiss, chuckling darkly. "Eager little thing, aren't you?" he teases.

"I... I'm sorry, I just..."

"Shh," Bucky soothes, his thumb brushing your bottom lip. "Don't apologize. I like it."

Like is an understatement. He’s feral for it. For you.

He leans in again, this time pressing his lips to your neck. You tilt your head, giving him better access as he trails hot kisses down to your collarbone.

"God, you smell good," he murmurs against your skin, his stubble scratching deliciously as he nips at your pulse point.

You moan softly, your hands sliding into his hair. The sinful sound sends a jolt of desire straight through him. His other hand, still resting high on your thigh, begins to move with more purpose. He traces the seam of your leggings, feeling the heat radiating from your core.

"Bucky," you breathe, shuddering under his bold touch.

"Tell me what you want, sweetheart," Bucky murmurs against your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. His fingers continue their teasing exploration, tracing light patterns over the thin fabric of your leggings.

You whimper, your hips shifting restlessly. "I... I don't know," you breathe, your voice trembling with need.

Bucky chuckles darkly, nipping at your earlobe. "I think you do know. I think you knew exactly what you wanted when you agreed to meet me here. You just need a little... encouragement."

His hand slides higher, cupping you through your leggings. You gasp, your back arching as he applies pressure. "Is this what you want?" he asks, his voice low and husky.

"Yes," you moan, apparently unable to cling to the rest of your hesitation. "Please, Bucky."

He growls low in his throat, loving that he’s got you right where he wants you.

You dart forward, desperate to kiss him again, and he’s happy to provide you that distraction. One hand petting your pussy while you pant eagerly into the eager, open-mouthed kisses, he uses his other hand to unbuckle his jeans, undo the button, and lower the zipper. You’re so drawn in by his mouth and his ministrations on your clothed pussy, that you don’t even notice as he finally frees his raging hard cock.

With your attention fully captured by his skilled fingers and demanding mouth, Bucky takes the opportunity to guide your hand to his now exposed length. You gasp against his lips, pulling back slightly in surprise.

"What's wrong, sweet girl?" he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. "Isn't this what you came here for?"

Your eyes are wide, darting between his face and where your hand now rests on his cock. "I... I didn't..."

"Shh," Bucky soothes, his free hand cupping your face. "It's okay. We don't have to do anything you don't want to do." But even as he says this, his hips shift slightly, pressing his hardness more firmly into your palm.

You swallow hard, your breath coming in quick pants. For a moment, you hesitate, but then your hand wraps around him, stroking experimentally.

Bucky groans, his hips bucking slightly into your touch. "Right there. Just like that."

He draws your face back to his, and swallows you up in a wet kiss, his tongue fucking in and out of your mouth, stroking his tongue insistently against yours. He’s coaxing, reeling you back in, and he feels the fruits of his efforts as your hand strokes him with more fervor the longer he kisses you.

You’re lonely. He picked up on that, and he’s using it to his advantage. He’ll give you some of you want to get what he wants, as well.

Bucky breaks the kiss, his breath hot against your ear. "I want to see you," he growls, his hand sliding up under your shirt. "Take this off for me."

You hesitate for just a moment before nodding, your fingers fumbling with the hem of your shirt. Bucky helps you pull it over your head, tossing it aside. His eyes darken as they roam over your newly exposed skin.

“No bra?” he chuckles.

You bite your lip and your eyes dart down, away from his face.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, leaning in to press hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone. His hand cups your breast, thumb brushing over the nipple. You arch into his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips.

Bucky's other hand continues its teasing exploration between your legs, the friction of your leggings adding to the delicious sensation. You're panting now, hips rocking against his.

"I want you to touch me," he says, his voice low and commanding.

You nod, your hand reaching for his cock again, but he catches your wrist, stopping you.

"Not like that," he growls. "I want your mouth on me."

Your eyes widen, darting between his face and his exposed cock.

“Oh, sweet girl,” he says, but the endearment drips off his tongue with cloying condescension, and he knows it, “You came out here at two am to meet up with a strange guy you only started talking to the night before last. You want to be used. Stop pretending like you’re going to resist. You’re going to let me do whatever the fuck I want with this body.”

You suck in a sharp breath, a wounded look in your eyes.

He chuckles and caresses your cheek. “Aw, you want it, too,” he coos. “You didn’t wear a bra, and I know you didn’t wear any panties either. When I peel these leggings off, your pussy is going to be bared and dripping and so eager for me.”

Your eyes flutter closed, but you don’t argue with him, and he guides you, hand on the back of your neck, to lean down into his lap. "Go on, sweet girl," he encourages. "Show me what a slut you want to be for me.”

Your breath catches. Bucky's words have struck a chord, and he can feel the mix of anticipation and nervousness in the air. It’s a heady thing, and he takes a deep breath as if he could inhale it. It makes his blood run hotter through his limbs.

With trembling hands, you lean the rest of the way in, your face hovering over his exposed cock.

"That's it," Bucky murmurs, his hand still firm on the back of your neck. "Open up for me."

You part your lips, and he feels your hot breath hovering at the head of his cock just a moment before you finally take him into your mouth. Bucky groans, his hips bucking slightly as your warm, wet mouth envelops him.

"Fuck," he hisses, his fingers tangling in your hair. "Good girl. Just like that."

You move slowly at first, getting used to the feel of him, mouthing at the head of his cock. But Bucky is impatient, using his hand, he guides you down more, urging you to take him deeper.

Bucky groans, his head falling back against the headrest as you start to work your tongue along his shaft.

"Fuck, that's good," he breathes, his fingers tangling in your hair. "Take more of me."

You comply, and Bucky's hips buck slightly, pushing himself further into your mouth. You gag a little, but quickly adjust, hollowing your cheeks, and he loves the feel of your soft, velvety mouth around his raging erection.

Bucky watches intently as you work your mouth over his cock, your lips stretched wide around his girth. The sight of you, eyes closed in concentration, cheeks hollowed as you suck, sends a jolt of pleasure through him. He can feel the wet heat of your tongue as it slides along the underside of his shaft, tracing the prominent vein there.

The wet heat of your mouth envelops Bucky, drawing a deep groan from his chest. Your tongue swirls around the head of his cock, teasing the sensitive underside before you take him deeper. The tight suction of your lips as you bob your head sends jolts of pleasure through his body.

Bucky's fingers tangle in your hair, guiding your movements. "Yes, baby," he growls. "Take me deeper."

You comply, relaxing your throat to take more of his length. Bucky feels the head of his cock hit the back of your throat and he hisses in pleasure. Your gag reflex kicks in, causing you to sputter and drool. Saliva drips down his shaft, making obscene wet sounds as you continue to work him with your mouth.

"Fuck, you're making such a mess," Bucky groans, watching as your head bobs up and down in his lap. "Such a perfect little cocksucker."

He’s watched a lot of porn since his divorce, and even more these past weeks in the middle of the night in this truck, and this is so much better, but surpassing even his own expectations. Too long since he’d been with a woman.

“Take me deeper." Bucky's grip tightens as he guides you further down his shaft. Your throat constricts around him, sending waves of pleasure coursing through his body. He can feel every swallow, every twitch of your tongue as you struggle to accommodate his girth.

"That's it, baby," he groans, his hips bucking slightly. "Swallow all of me."

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you gag around him, but you don't pull away. Instead, you double your efforts, hollowing your cheeks and sucking harder. Saliva continues to pool at the corners of your mouth, trickling down his length in glistening rivulets.

The sight of you, lips stretched wide and chin slick with spit, is almost too much for Bucky to bear. He watches, transfixed, as your head bobs up and down, your tongue swirling around his tip before diving back in. Your lips stretch wide around his girth, glistening with spit and precum.

Your nose brushes against his pelvis as you swallow around him, throat constricting deliciously. He feels the vibrations of your muffled moan around his shaft and it sends sparks of pleasure up his spine.

"Fuck," he growls. "Fuck, fuck, fuck. That, baby."

The pleasure builds, coiling tighter in Bucky's core with each bob of your head. He's close, so close, but he doesn't want to finish like this. Not when there's so much more he wants to do to you.

With a growl, he tugs your hair, pulling you off his cock. You gasp for air, lips swollen and glistening, a thin strand of saliva still connecting you to him. The sight nearly undoes him.

"Stand up," he commands, his voice rough with desire.

You comply, awkward and shaky on your feet in the confined space of the truck cab. Bucky's hands go to your hips, fingers hooking into the waistband of your leggings.

"These need to come off. Now."

You hesitate for just a moment, but the fire in Bucky's eyes brooks no argument. You shimmy them down with Bucky’s rough help, and true to what he said, you’re now fully naked and exposed to him. His smile is pleased, possessive, predatory as you sit back down on the seat of the cab.

Bucky's eyes rake over your newly exposed form, drinking in every curve and contour. He loves the sight of your pussy, bare, a thatch of curls, waiting and glistening with arousal. He licks his lips, a low growl rumbling in his chest.

"Look at you," he murmurs, voice thick with lust. "So wet and ready for me already."

His hand slides up your thigh, fingers ghosting over your slick folds. You shiver at his touch, a soft whimper escaping your lips.

"Please," you whisper, voice trembling with need.

Bucky chuckles darkly. "Please what, baby?"

You squirm under his intense gaze, cheeks flushed with a mix of arousal and embarrassment. "I... I want you to touch me."

"Oh, I'm going to do more than touch you," Bucky growls, suddenly pulling you into his lap. You gasp as you feel his hard cock pressing against your ass. "I'm going to ruin you."

His fingers find your clit, circling it with firm, deliberate strokes. You arch into his touch, a breathy moan escaping your lips. Bucky's other hand comes up to cup your breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers.

"That's it," he growls in your ear. "Let me hear how much you want this."

You whimper, grinding down against his fingers. Your head falls back against his shoulder, exposing the long line of your neck. Bucky takes advantage, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin there.

His fingers move lower, teasing your entrance. You're so wet, his digits slide in easily, and you cry out at the sudden intrusion.

"Fuck, you're tight," Bucky groans, pumping his fingers in and out of you. "Can't wait to feel you around my cock."

You're panting now, rocking your hips to meet each thrust of his fingers. The cab of the truck is filled with the obscene sounds of your wet pussy and your desperate moans.

Bucky's fingers work you relentlessly, curling and stroking inside you as his thumb circles your clit. You're writhing in his lap, gasping and moaning as pleasure builds.

"Ride my fingers, baby. Show me how bad you want it."

"Bucky," you gasp, "I'm so close..."

He increases the pressure on your clit, rubbing tight circles as his fingers curl inside you.

"Please," you whimper, your head falling back against his shoulder again. "I need more."

Bucky chuckles darkly. "Greedy little thing, aren't you?" Roughly, he pinches your nipple, making you jerk and cry out.

Bucky's skilled fingers continue their relentless assault, pumping in and out of your dripping pussy while his thumb works your clit. Your body trembles, teetering on the edge of release.

"You want more?" he taunts, his hot breath tickling your ear. "I'll give you more."

Suddenly, he adds a third finger, stretching you further. The additional fullness makes you gasp, your back arching as he drives his fingers deeper. His other hand leaves your breast, sliding down to spread your legs wider.

"Look at how wet you are," Bucky murmurs, his voice low and husky. "Your pussy's practically weeping for me."

His fingers curl inside you, finding that perfect spot that makes you see stars. You cry out, your hips bucking wildly against his hand.

"I can feel how close you are,” he growls in your ear. “Your little cunt is clenching around my fingers."

His other hand returns to roughly knead your breast, pinching and rolling your nipple. The dual sensations send sparks of pleasure coursing through your body. You're trembling in his lap, right on the edge of release.

"Bucky, please," you whimper, your hips rocking desperately against his hand.

"Please what?" he asks, his voice low and dangerous. "Tell me what you need."

"I need to come," you gasp. "Please, make me come."

Bucky chuckles darkly. "Oh, I'll make you come alright. I'll make you fucking gush for me."

He increases the pressure on your clit, rubbing tight, fast circles as his fingers curl inside you, seeking that special spot. When he finds it, you cry out, your back arching. Bucky's fingers continue to work you relentlessly, curling and stroking that spongy spot inside you as his thumb applies insistent pressure to your throbbing clit. He builds and builds his ministrations until you're a trembling, whimpering and writhing mess in his lap.

"Fucking perfect," he praises in your ear, his voice low and gravelly. Your desperate grinding is torturous to his cock, and he could explode just from rutting against you like this.

But Bucky doesn't let up. If anything, he increases the pressure, his fingers pumping in and out of you at a frantic pace.

"Don't stop," he commands, his voice rough with desire. "Keep going. I know you've got more in you."

You're gasping, your hips jerking erratically, and then suddenly the orgasm rolls over you like a tidal wave, and there’s a surge of hunger that spurs him on. Your back arches sharply, pressing your breasts into his rough palms as you cry out, your voice echoing in the confined space of the truck cab.

Bucky only intensifies his efforts, his fingers pumping faster, harder, curling to hit that spot inside you with unerring accuracy. He’s seeking even more, pushing you impossibly higher, your body trembling uncontrollably in his lap.

"Oh god, oh god," you whimper and strain.

And still he works your body.

You try and squirm away, but he’s so much stronger than you, he easily keeps you in his lap. He moves his other hand down to your pussy so his right can focus fully on fucking in and out of your hole to molest your g-spot while his left zeroes in and demands more of your clit.

And then you cry for him from both ends, a sob escaping your mouth as your pussy gushes, spilling wetness over him, soaking his jeans and the seat beneath.

You slump, slack in his arms, but try to lean and move away and off his lap.

Bucky laughs, triumphant, and wraps his arm around your waist to keep you pressed to him. He presses a hot kiss to your neck. His other hand wipes the wetness over your thigh, making more of a mess.

“You’ve never squirted before, have you, baby?” he speaks low, directly into your ear.

“No,” you sniffle.

He nips the lobe of your ear and turns your head to face him. “Aw, did I make you cry?”

You close your eyes, and more tears trickle down your cheeks.

He slowly licks a stripe up your cheek, relishing the salty taste of your tears. It makes his cock twitch.

“I wonder what other firsts we can tick off for you.”

You shiver, and he squeezes around your middle. “It was overwhelming, wasn’t it?” he asks, and you nod, eyes still closed.

He kisses your cheek, and you let out a shuddery breath.

“But it felt good, didn’t it, baby?”

You open your eyes and bite your lip, then a small nod.

“Such a pretty slut for me,” he praises, and then he’s plundering your mouth again, and you turn your torso more to him. He plays more with the wet mess of gush and slick over your thighs.

Bucky sears your lips with his mouth, his tongue delving deep as he tastes you. You whimper into the kiss, your body still trembling from the intensity of your orgasms. His hands roam your body, kneading your breasts, trailing down your sides, gripping your hips.

He breaks the kiss to trail his lips along your jaw, down your neck. You tilt your head, giving him better access as he sucks and nips at your pulse point. His stubble scratches deliciously against your sensitive skin, sending shivers down your spine.

"You taste so sweet," he murmurs against your skin. "I could devour you all night."

His words make you shudder, and his chest rumbles in approval. Bucky's hands continue their exploration, one sliding up to cup your breast, the other dipping between your thighs to tease your still-sensitive folds.

You gasp as his fingers brush your clit, oversensitive and swollen. He chuckles darkly, circling the bundle of nerves with feather-light touches that have you squirming again in his lap.

Bucky's hands grip your hips, fingers digging into your flesh as he maneuvers you in the cramped space of the truck cab. "On your knees," he growls, his voice thick with lust. "I want you on your knees for me."

You comply, your body still trembling from your intense orgasms. The leather seat is cool against your flushed skin as you position yourself on all fours, facing the passenger side door. Bucky's large hands run down your spine, making you shiver. He runs his hands over the curve of your hips, down to your thighs, spreading them wider.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. "So eager for my cock."

You whimper in response, pushing your hips back towards him. Bucky chuckles darkly, one hand coming down in a sharp smack on your ass. The sound echoes in the cab, and you gasp.

"Patience, baby," he teases, soothing the flesh he just spanked.

Bucky's hands knead your ass cheeks, spreading them apart to get a better view of your glistening folds.

"Such a pretty little thing," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. "And all mine for the night."

He positions himself behind you. His cock, hard and thick, brushes against your inner thigh. You shudder in anticipation. He groans behind you, and then he pushes the blunt head, angry head of his cock against your entrance.

"You ready?" he asks, teasing you with just the tip.

You whimper, pressing back against him. "Please," you beg, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky grips your hips, pulling you back slightly. The head of his cock teases your entrance, sliding through your slick folds. You moan, pressing back against him, silently begging for more.

"Eager little slut," he chuckles darkly. "Don't worry, baby. I'm going to give you exactly what you need."

Without further warning, he snaps his hips forward, burying himself to the hilt inside you. You cry out at the sudden fullness, your walls stretching to accommodate his size.

"Fuck," Bucky groans, his fingers digging into your flesh. "So tight.”

Bucky's hands control your hips, squeezing tightly as he begins to move, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in. The force of his thrusts rocks you forward, and you have to brace yourself against the passenger door to keep from hitting your head.

"Take my cock like the good little slut you are," he snarls.

Bucky leans over you, his chest pressing against your back as he continues to pound into you. One hand snakes around to grope your breast, pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers. The other slides down to rub circles on your clit.

"You like that, don't you?" he pants in your ear, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. "Like being used like a cheap whore in the back of a truck?"

You whimper in response, pushing back to meet his thrusts. The angle allows him to hit spots deeper inside you, drawing a groan from his chest. Has he ever been this deep in such a perfect pussy?

"Bucky," you gasp, "oh god, Bucky..."

"That's right, baby," Bucky growls, his hips snapping against yours relentlessly. "Say my name. Let me hear how much you love my cock."

He reaches around to the front of your pussy, fingers work your clit faster, matching the punishing pace of his thrusts. You're trembling beneath him, overwhelmed by the onslaught of sensations. The truck rocks with the force of his movements, the amber lights still flashing outside, casting an eerie glow over your writhing bodies.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Bucky groans, his breath hot against your ear. "So tight and wet for me. Such a perfect little fuck toy."

His words send a shiver down your spine, and he loves the way his words affect you as much as his actions do.

Bucky's other hand leaves your hip, sliding up to wrap around your throat. He doesn't squeeze, just holds you there, a silent threat that sends your heart racing, and he loves feeling how your pulse jumped at that.

"You gonna come for me again?" he asks, his voice low and dangerous. "Gonna cream on my cock?”

You nod frantically, evidently unable to form words as he keeps pouring and overwhelming you with pleasure.

"Answer me," he demands, tightening his grip ever so slightly on your throat.

"Yes!" you gasp out. "Yes, I'm gonna come for you!"

"That's it," he growls, tightening his grip on your throat just slightly. "Let go. Come apart on my fat cock."

His words push you over the edge. Your orgasm crashes over you, your inner walls clenching around him as you cry out his name. Bucky groans, his hips stuttering as your pussy milks his cock.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he chants, his thrusts becoming erratic. With a final, deep thrust, he buries himself inside you, his cock pulsing as he spills his seed.

You both stay there for a moment, panting heavily, your bodies slick with sweat. Bucky's hand releases your throat, sliding down to rest on your heaving chest. He presses a kiss to your shoulder blade, then slowly pulls out, eliciting a whimper from you at the loss.

He brings his hand down to your wet, messy folds, and you twitch at the feel of his fingers, clearly oversensitive. He hums, collecting some of the mixed spend slipping out of you, and he rubs it over your lower back. He doesn’t want you to forget what a dirty girl you’ve been for him.

Bucky helps you sit back up, pulling you onto his lap once more. You're both sticky with sweat and other fluids, the air in the truck cab heavy with the scent of sex. He brushes your hair back from your face, his touch gentle after the roughness of your encounter.

"You did so well, baby," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "Such a good girl for me."

You shiver at his praise, nestling closer to his broad chest, your naked form cocooning against him, still fully clothed, only his cock ever coming unsheathed during all of that. He’s edging on a little too warm, but the coolness of the middle of the night helps. His arms wrap around you, holding you tight against him. For a moment, there's just the sound of your breathing slowly returning to normal and the faint hum of the truck's engine.

"We should probably get cleaned up," you say after a while, your voice slightly hoarse.

Bucky chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest. "Probably," he agrees, but makes no move to let you go. Instead, his hand trails down your spine, making you arch into him. "But I'm not done with you yet, baby. The night's still young, and I've got plans for you."

You blink up at him, and he ducks in to peck at your lips.

“Let me just take another round of the lot, and then I’ll kiss you stupid, eat you out, and fuck you again.”

You open your mouth to protest, but he stops you with a quick kiss. He smiles when he pulls away and sees your eyes are falling hazy again. He strokes his hand up and down your spine, “Don’t worry, baby, you can stay right here in my lap while we drive.”

He leaves no room for protest, pulls the truck into gear, and goes for another round, looking forward to the rest of his shift.

Follow Up Piece: CAMARADERIE

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Read more stories from the Deliciously Debauched Labor Day Weekend!

Hi. Still with me? We made it!

I doubt the person who does this across the street from my window five nights a week is anything close to Bucky, but true story, someone's in this truck with the yellow flashing lights, and my mind wants it to be a dirty Bucky that I'd make the unwise decision to jump into a cab with.

[imagine-shenanigans]

sighs dramatically.

Okay but the ghost distribution system as we call it is hysterical but can we tlak about how None Of The 141 are built to date.

Like, sure, Gaz is great at flirting, and he's charming, but DATES? He's the type who asks you on a date because he thinks youre pretty/handsome/adorable/etc but by the time the two of you actually go on a date he's ready figured out like. the whole rest of your lives together. He's already imagined up 20 different scenarios of different dates, stalked your front-facing social media and found your secret or hidden accounts that theoretically don't link back to you. Sure, he's scrounged through your discord servers and your private messages and texts and a thousand other things while he was bored on leave. He knows enough to know that he's happy with what comes next. All dates are simply... ritual at this point? Something obligational, other than the fact he gets to spend time with you.

You're not going anywhere, he's just the least heavy handed of them, the one who'll let you think its your choice to keep him around until he's got his ring officially on your finger. Life won't go according to plan but he's prepared for that too. In his head, you're already married anyway, he's just working his way up to that part. He'll manufacture any scenario to keep you with him, because he wants you to be. And he'll make sure you want to be too.

Soap on the other hand is WAY less tactful about it. He's charming, and he'll take you on dates, sure, but the moment he spots you it's incredibly easy to get obsessed. He immediately drops an arm around you, purring in your ear and talking to you. Doesn't ask you on a date so much as demands it, puts his number in your phone and presses a kiss to your temple, his fingertips squeezing your chin before you leave. God forbid you let him into your home - he'll never leave if you do. Johnny's SUCH a physical guy that while, yes, personality matters, it seals the deal for him the moment he's got his tongue down your throat and his fingers in your pants. Something about the way you settle in against him makes him feel like he's home, and you will never get rid of him.

He's willing to take you on dates if you need more proof, but he won't even pretend like he doesnt already have a copy of your key. Like he's not telling the guys about the bonnie little thing he's going home to - he slips into your apartment/house/etc and into your bed without changing, barely finding time to slip his boots off. Presses one hand to your mouth and just... holds you. He'll fuck you within an inch of your life later when you're less panicked, sure, but he just wants to press his nose to your neck and breathe you in. If his hips rut against your ass, ignore it for now. (Haha... unless? No? okay in a minute then)

Price is just as manipulative as Gaz can be, just as charming as Soap and Gaz too. But he just... doesn't care, just like Simon. There's a reason so many people have Price with like... mail order bride or a "one day you look up and hes your husband" scenario and thats because he's good at what he does. And by that I mean being a husband and pumping you full of kids whether or not its physically possible. (Btw check out Ceil's mail order bride western au its good shit, or Bo's Kingpin Price drabbles, makes me lose it every time.)

He sees you walking about and the MOMENT you do anything remotely domestic - pick up a neice/nephew/babysitting kid/etc and put em on your hip? Rock hard. play peekaboo with a baby across from you at a cafe? pick up after yourself just to be polite to the waitress? he's already stalking you on multiple platforms theres no goddamn way youre getting away from him. He'll figure out where you go in your free time and insert himself there as naturally as possible. He's not particularly hiding what he's doing either - he likes to test you, to see if you notice things missing or moved. If you do, he'll be a little more cautious, use it as reason to drive you into hsi arms. If you don't he jsut views it as all the more reason to take you away - poor thing, you just can't help yourself can you? You're lucky nobody else has got their claws around you, hm?

[two-white-butterflies]

when he goes down on me

Description: A struggling accounting student meets a successful lawyer. A relationship blossoms. With a few social media excerpts.

Pairing: thranduil/reader

Warnings: age-gap

There was a saying around the school - only the accountings get the accountings. While all the students from the other majors were out partying and dancing until their heels hurt from jumping, the accountings were stuck memorizing business terms and calculating debits and credits until their fingers hurt from routinely tapping their calculators. It was a figurative hell on earth.

And you have always been fond of burning.

It was seldom to see you attend a party, but miraculously your schedule cleared up and there weren't any quizzes or lectures in the vicinity. "Are you already missing the comforts of Harvard?" your father teases and you crack a smile. "God, don't remind me of studying." You groaned while slumping on the leather couch.

You've almost forgotten about the comforts of your childhood home after being surrounded by flashing white lights and empty cans of redbull, comfort wasn't exactly in your vocabulary. "I'm just saying; you ditched school to attend the neighborhood gathering and you are cooped up in this humid living room, avoiding everyone who wants to talk to you." He emphasizes, encouraging you to come out.

"Please, those people saw me grow up. I hardly think that I'm missing out." You reasoned, returning your attention back to your cellphone. "- all they ever talk about is me getting married, or at least having a boyfriend." You added while scrolling past a TikTok video about some random guy bashing Crumbl cookies.

The people in your parent's close circle were typical upper-echelon folks whose only means of communicating with some 20+ year old is asking them about marriage. Of course, your usual reply would be that you are not seeing anyone and they'd blink at you like fucking reptiles. They can't fathom the idea that a young, intelligent and relatively good-looking (not ugly) woman still didn't have a husband.

It did make you happy that they found you interesting enough to have a husband but it was infuriating that being married was the only thing they cared about you. They belonged to a different time, you tell yourself before your mind drifts back into TikTok.

"We have a new neighbor, he's a good fellow but he's a little too young for our crowd. I don't think that he's old enough to relate to Geert's Hoover Deluxe jokes. You should talk to him, you've always had magic with your words." He encourages, and a sigh escapes your mouth. "Dad, I'm not talking to one of your golf buddies." You groaned. Maybe it was a mistake coming here.

You still needed to study for the licensure test, that test was something that you could not fail. It was the first step to your CPA to Lawyer plot-line, if you are unable to handle the pressure of the licensure exam then maybe you aren't equipped with Law School. Then, maybe you should just drop out and become a stay-at-home daughter like your other friend, Magnolia.

"He's a lawyer. He handled that case that you were fixated on, the one with the ballerina and her father. Of course, he defended the ballerina." He did his best to remember your teenage ramblings about Oonagh, the ballerina, and her treacherous ex-husband, Gilbert. "What?" You pry your attention away from your mobile phone. Johnson v Johnson was the court case that began your fascination with law, and the guy who defended Oonagh Johnson was in the same house as you! Goddamn.

Thranduil wanted to let the ground consume him whole. He's spent a lot of time with businessmen and world-leaders alike but BBQ with his neighbors was a different type of embarrassment. He couldn't relate to them in matters of American life or farming, and he honestly doesn't know enough about the outsourcing industry to make a decent connection with these folks.

Of course, he could relate to their wives about perfume, but he doesn't want to be that cunt who talks to random people's wives. He seriously wanted to go home, but then he sees a figure in his periphery. A woman with amazing hair, walking towards him and suddenly everything was happening in slow motion.

She takes a step, her hair moves along with her, the wind is her willing assistant and her lips turned upwards. A smile. Is she looking at me? He tries to hide the fact that he was looking over his shoulder. Maybe she's looking at someone behind me? He thinks, but then again, there was no one standing beside him, save the rose bush.

"Hey," you greet him and suddenly he finds himself leaning back into his true self. The confident defense attorney who charms everyone that he speaks to. "Hey?" He raises an eyebrow, as if he's teasing you. "My dad told me that you were the one who defended Oonagh Johnson back in 2012." You opened your mouth to speak.

Always straightforward. Time is gold.

"Yes, it was a terrible thing what happened to her." He breaths. The case seemingly close to his heart just like this case was to you. "I know that it sounds a little creepy but that is my favorite case in the history of the world. I was thirteen years old-" you rambled and he releases a breath that he was unaware that he was holding.

Thirteen years old in 2012. I feel so old. He muses.

"- I didn't know what I wanted to be, and then I saw you and Oonagh on the news. I knew then that I wanted to be in the same spot as you, defending women, minorities, children. I knew then that I wanted to give what was due. Justice." You finished rambling, he notices that smile on your face.

It reminded him of himself back in his rookie days, that hopeless glimmer in your eyes mirroring back to all the years before him. Some dreams remain dreams, and others turn into goals. "Well, that case is close to my heart. I don't think I've ever told anyone about this before but my mother was a victim of domestic abuse, her father was not a good man, and when I defended Oonagh, I felt some sort of retribution..." He pauses. I shouldn't tell this to a stranger.

"It is a different kind of power that you feel when you do something right. Yes, it is every citizen's right to defend themselves in the court of law whether or not they are guilty or innocent, but I think that you'll realize this when you do become a lawyer. It feels like a breath of relief when you bring true justice to the innocents." He continues. A feeling that feels so far from me now.

"Yeah, I don't know how I'll deal with choosing cases when I'm an actual lawyer but my dad says that I don't have to think about that until after I actually pass the bar." You chuckled nervously. He pries his attention away from his current woes, "Oh, are you studying law right now?" He inquired, his body leaning closer to yours.

"Oh no, I'm studying Accounting right now. It's my pre-law course." You informed, and he slowly finds himself respecting you. "I wish that I did something cool like that, my pre-law was Polsci and I wouldn't recommend it even to my worst enemy." He chuckles, his conscience floating away and instead is focused on you.

The shining starlight that has come to guide him away from this existential crisis. "I've heard a lot of things about that major. Some people say that it doesn't really equip you in law school, but the Polsci majors that I know are such cool people." You smiled, only beginning to realize that the man standing in front of you was h o t.

Hot with a capital 'H'.

He had a cleanly shaven face, and beautiful golden blonde hair that seriously rivaled those of the Targaryens that you watch on HBO. (You are still stuck in Season 5 of GOT due to being on studying jail.)

"That major did not help me in law school. It gave me an overview but law school is ultimately a different demon." He warns, staring deep into your eyes. She looks good, he thinks. "Well, hopefully if I pass next year I'll be able to apply for law school. Are there any universities that you recommend?" You ask and he ponders.

"I finished my degree in Harvard-"

"Fuck," you interrupted him. "No, I'm sorry." You gasp.

"I study in Harvard right now. It's just I found it - I don't know." You mentally cringe, accepting the fact that you've let go of your chance with dating this hot lawyer man. "It's alright, I was gonna say to not study in Harvard. Stanford is much better. I've found really formidable opponents who finished their degree in Stanford." He smiles, finding your quirks to be adorable.

It is not everyday that a woman walks into his life and talks about his best case to date, and then laugh about stupid stupid things. "The food isn't really that great to be honest," you mumbled. "Some things never change." He mused. "Oh wait, I'm sorry. I haven't introduced myself. I'm Y/N Saint." You offer your hand to shake and he takes it.

"Thranduil Greenwood." He smiles while shaking your hand. He lets go of it, and then remembers. "Daniel's your father?" He asks. "Yeah, but he's not really my biological father, he adopted me when he married my mom." You provided a bit of a background information.

He tries to make the conversation longer, in the hopes that you wouldn't walk away from him or that you'd leave at least an email or a number or a facebook profile so that he'll have some way of communicating with you. "He's a nice guy." He compliments.

"He's more than nice," you smile.

Suddenly, your phone rings. "Oh damn, sorry. I really have to catch a plane, but it was so nice talking to you attorney. Um, do you have a phone or anything. I'd love to keep in touch." You turn the alarm off, and focus your attention back to him. He unlocks his iphone and hands it to you. You glance at his wallpaper. "It's my son." he answers, not bothering to hide that fact about him.

"You have a wife?" You tired to keep your tone nonchalant, but it comes out jealous and icky. "No, his mother left when he was born. Funny enough, I couldn't blame her anyways. I was twenty, she was nineteen and she had an art degree." He jests and you try your best to find an instagram app on his phone.

How old is this man anyways? All he had on his phone was whatsapp, imessage, a few apps that were there when you buy the phone, and then two different email apps (email for apple and gmail.) Which made you want to laugh at him, as it was adorable, but you decide to open his notes app. "I don't have any social media except for instagram so I'll just write my username down and hopefully you do have an Instagram at home." Your voice turns nervous at the end.

There was a 50/50 chance that Thranduil had an instagram. "Goodbye, it was nice talking to you." You greet, handing him his phone, but before he could reply - you sprint away.

yournamesaint: mornings like these...

liked by 891 others

>comments

ingridhorstefe: the type of thing u see before going to bed - yournamesaint: chug redbull and the bed becomes a theory - ingridhorstefe: id reply something smart abt management theory but my brain is fcking fried

"Thank you for helping me set up an Instagram account, Tauriel." Thranduil thanks his intern before taking a sip of his coffee. "I don't think that you should post anything for legal reasons, but I already fixed your profile and privated your account. I also told everyone in the firm to follow you, Legolas says he'll only follow you after you get 10 followers so everyone won't think that he's following a bot." Tauriel continues, and Thranduil has no idea what those words mean.

"It is about time that I enter the realm social media. I mean, it is one thing to not have social media but Atty. Elros has an instagram and he's literally fifty something." Thranduil jokes. "I did tell you to sign up, which reminds me, you should follow Atty. Alfred." Tauriel presses the 'follow' button on his screen.

"As much as I hate Atty. Elros he has an amazing feed." He jokes again, and Tauriel nods agreeing with him. "He's actually an excellent photographer, I've heard a story about him actually. I heard that he wanted to be a photographer at first but then had a change of heart because his twin brother became a neurosurgeon..." Tauriel informs.

greenwoodlaw_ has requested to follow you

yournamesaint wants to call you.

"Hello," he greets seeing your face on the other end of the line. "Hey, I'm surprised to see you with an instagram. I mean I'm not stalking you or anything, it just says 'new' on your profile." You found yourself explaining to him, and he responds with a laugh. "Tauriel, my staff, helped me make this account. I figured that it was about time that I make one, I mean even the old lawyers in the neighboring firm have their own social medias." His big eyebrows merged together.

"I was about to give you my phone number yesterday but I remembered that I didn't have a line. I wouldn't be able to call you or reply to the text messages." You reply uneasily. Your father has pestered you about getting a line since the moment you bought your phone, but you shook him off saying that no one texts or calls people in their mobile number anymore. You were wrong.

"I didn't really bother paying for that since it's a distraction." You settle your phone on the desk in front of you, not bothering to adjust it to an angle that'll make you look better. There is no use fighting against what you really look like. "I understand. Shouldn't you be studying?" He asks and you shake your head.

"I'm free, miraculously, but I'll start on some reviewers in an hour. Better safe than sorry." You inform.

"You must always be on your feet." He says.

"You sound a lot like my professor." You teased. "- but thank you for the advise, I shall use it well." You add.

Tauriel walks inside of his office, carrying a stack of files. "Oh, it looks like you've got a lot of work to do." You smile. Tauriel raises an eyebrow but he gives her a glance telling her not to ask any questions. "I guess this is goodbye. I'll call you again tomorrow."

"Goodbye,"

"Bye."

[piermanwalter]

According to self-proclaimed experts and leading crystal glass manufacturers online, apparently the answer to "Does this glass contain lead, and if so, how dangerous is it?" is "Go fuck yourself. If you don't buy from me, you deserve to die." I swear to fuck, the *ting* test must be a conspiracy to ensure that every resale hustler grindset shithead and every pretentious blue blood snob shithead will advertise lead crystal any chance they get. "Ooh the unmistakable lasting ring of true crystal-" It's a big bowl. Of course it will fucking *ting*. If I struck a mass produced cake cloche, it will *ting*. If you melted broken beer bottles and gravel into a big bowl, it will *ting*.

I also shouldn't have expected better from professional sources because of fucking course they will mangle all information into advertisements. "Timeless beautiful luxurious lead it contains is harmless unless you misuse it in which case we are doing the world a favour by ridding it of you crystal is softer than glass so it can be cut into intricate shapes crystal is harder than glass so it can be made thinnnnnnerr crystal is softer than glass so you must never put it in the dishwasher crystal is harder than glass so it will last forever unless you destroy it with your clumsy insensate undeserving ill-bred low-class subhuman paws-" Shut the fuck up. I'm losing more brain cells trying to comprehend this fucking shit than I ever will from lead. People like these are personally responsible for half of Earth's extinctions. If I don't get a straight answer soon, I will be personally responsible for half of their extinctions. "Skill issue" you may say, but the only "skill issue" here is how you don't know shit about lead glass either, and/or can't explain a single fucking thing in a way that someone who wasn't carried out of the maternity ward on a crystal platter can understand. If you can't explain everything online, at least have the humility to admit it.

The next time one of you hacks makes another smug asshole video where you *ting ting ting* lead crystal with no comparison with a similar piece of regular glass or posts a "new" article the same as sixty thousand other articles all competing with each-other to be the most useless piece of text ever formulated by mankind like grain entrapment except each grain is a Swarovski jewel that goes *ting* each time it moves, the last *ting* you hear will be my axe bouncing off your thick fucking skull. I hope you go into debt throwing every last cent into your twee Daisy-Fay-wet-dream-ass Etsy antique shop and then you get shut down for fraud and then you get investigated by government tax authority and then you get banned from doing business forever and then 500 vintage-collecting grandmas with no prior association beyond deep justified contempt for you specifically trash your name across every media platform and in-person social agglomeration in perpetuity. I hope every crystal artisan at your company is simultaneously possessed by the spirit of Hephaestus to march into your office en masse and bodily drag you onto the factory floor where they hoist you on their shoulders like the first Olympic athletes did with sacrificial cattle to drop you into the glowing crucible, but as your shoes melt they come to their senses and pull you out so you only have a few superficial burns, but then the glass formulation reacts to your shoes so badly that every batch coming out of that crucible is ruined, but even after the crucible is replaced, the curse of Hephaestus lingers so that every piece of glass produced in that factory is fucked up in some way, and then the company fires you and fines you for all damages and repair costs forever and the curse of Hephaestus follows you until you are living in a hollow tree planting onions in holes you dig by hand. I will throw you down an oubliette and feed you overnight oat breakfast bowls and juice blend sun teas prepared and served in whatever the hell random glassware I find at thrift stores and yard sales. If your own skill in identifying lead glass does not exceed what you deemed fit to share, I will feel no guilt when you die.

[groovesnjams]

"A Psychic Wound" by Los Campesinos!

DV:

Watching Los Campesinos! on their recent US tour, I got hung up on the unique path they've taken through my affections: I loved "International TweeXcore Underground" (which apparently has a video that is a real fucking time capsule) in 2007, but I care a lot more about them as a band now then I did back then - it's like they burrowed their way into my head over the past 17 years without me ever quite noticing. And to be clear about bands I loved in 2007: I saw of Montreal recently; I'll be thrilled if Spiritualized play Chicago again. But seeing them is like catching up with an old friend who I don't have all that much in common with any more. Meanwhile there are Los Campesinos lyrics about my life, about my friends, about my partner! I'm not sure how that happened but it did.

And so Los Camp sound and feel more vital to me now than they did back when I first heard them, and I don't think there's any other artist I can say that about. (Admittedly there's very few artists who have been active since the mid-2000s that you can't describe as "nostalgia acts" at this point - if they're even trying to make new music at all.) So that's what makes LC significant: I've long since lost track of artists whose every word I hung on in 2007, but something like "A Psychic Wound" feels real even now that I can't grow long indie bangs if I wanted to. And maybe the production is a little too sleek, but a lyric like "It’s a cosmic check you never cashed/ Curse the universe for what you lack" is the kind of casually-dropped gem that few bands can manage once in their early days, let alone this far into their run. "A Psychic Wound" makes me wonder if Los Camp maybe will keep going forever, and if maybe they'll be the only band in history where that isn't a mistake. Most importantly, the song sounds like a singalong even before it's over.

MG:

DV and I have seen Los Campesinos! a handful of times over their career and most of those times I had one foot out the door only to be completely charmed by the group's all-in ecstasy. Until this last show I'd say Los Campesinos! were a band best experienced live -- mostly because aside from one brief period during lockdown, I don't listen to their records and this is what creates the little cycle of bliss to indifference in which I swirl. In fact, they are a nostalgia act to me, in that I want every concert to reproduce the same sense of fun and belonging the last concert did. I don't want to like my own sense of nostalgia but I also firmly believe we have no free will in this universe, so alas, here I was, very excited for this most recent concert and totally unaware that Los Campesinos! had gone through some sort of internet-led glow up. Things were going pretty much fine until, in the middle of the show, they acknowledged their newfound popularity and conducted a "marketing survey" where they tested whether or not you became a fan during the nascent days of social media or during its ongoing imperial phase. That's when they completely lost me. What a weirdly pro-Capitalist stance to be one of the few bands capable of maintaining your recording and touring artist career for almost two decades but to only feel successful once you can properly advertise. "A Psychic Wound" does everything a Los Campesinos! song should. It's full of witty lyrics and a chaos of instruments all delivered with a righteous enthusiasm. But now it just gets on my nerves.

[illkeepyourbrittleheartwarm]

Sometimes, I wake up with such a bitterness in my heart that I cannot help but go downstairs and eat as much sweet food as I can. I'll feel so sick, but I need something to comfort this bitter pain in my chest.

I eat and I think about every adult who failed me as a child. I think about my mother letting me down so many times that when she read my texts telling my friend how my dad had kicked me, I didn't even try to insist that it was true, because she said that she would go down to ask him. I said that he didn't kick me, because I knew that she would eventually believe him and drop it. Because I knew that if my mum sided with me for even a minute, he would be even worse to me than usual. So she made me call my friend right in front of her and apologise to her for lying. She then made me go downstairs and apologise to my father for lying about him.

I think about the teachers who read my stories and poems, who had other girls going to them saying they're worried about me, who demanded I showed them my self harm scars in a crowded corridor, scoffed, walked away, and never did anything about it. The teachers who would call in my parents after my counsellor had to report when I told her that my dad hit me, and tell them everything. Who broke safeguarding procedure, who contacted my parents, didn't call social services, and never paid any attention to what was very clearly a child in distress again.

I think about the grown men who saw a little girl desperate for love, and took advantage of that in the sickest ways.

I think about my 'friends' who I know I can't be bitter towards, because they were children and they didn't know any better. But I am bitter, because I KNEW BETTER. I knew better than to bully someone. I knew better than to be cruel and unkind and use someone. I knew better than to assume someone was stupid when their life was falling apart and they were too depressed to do school work. I knew better than to slutshame a victim. I was younger than them, yet I still knew better. So how come they didn't??? How come they didn't know better??? How come they couldn't be decent human beings? You don't have to be an adult to understand that people suffer and that just because they try to see the best in you and give you more chances without expecting an apology, doesn't mean you get to treat them like shit but still claim to be their friend.

I think about all the neighbours who heard everything, all the crashing, yelling, screaming, daily, and did nothing. Who were the first at the door when my mother got home to tell her that they heard me shout at my younger brother when I'd snap from him constantly hounding and abusing myself and my baby brother. When I was left alone to watch them as a fourteen year old. When I was left alone to watch the middle brother when I was ten, before my baby brother was born. But when it was my father screaming and yelling and threatening us, they suddenly didn't hear. That was never a problem for them, when he would be yelling at us every day into the early hours. When he would drive home drunk. When he would be outside yelling and banging stuff or beating his workers up. All of a sudden, that didn't matter. Only if I finally yelled after trying to raise children as a fucking child with more patience than most adults have, only if I was kissing a boy somewhere, only if they saw something on my social media, like the stories I'd write, to gossip about.

I think about the social workers who got mandated reports a few times and did nothing, and sexual health clinic workers who would treat me for STDs several times, hear about the older men, test me for pregnancy, and never even tried to say anything. I'm glad they didn't report it because I'd be the only one to suffer for it, but i wish they hadn't just smiled and nodded.

I think about all the family members who saw and heard what was going on at home, but didn't care, and sung my dad's praises. But when I cut my father off, suddenly it was a big deal, and "he's your father, he did everything for you, you need to forgive him, he's such a good man, you're exaggerating, you've always had a tendency to tell stories".

I think about my mother insisting that he is a good man, a decent man, who just got lost along the way.

And the chocolate I was eating suddenly feels like tar in my mouth, difficult to chew, to swallow, to digest. Suddenly, my stomach and throat burn with bile and tears.

[akuma-tenshi]

vent below

the important part you need to know is that i'm probably going to take a break from tumblr (and social media in general) for a while

i'm literally so fucking tired. i've hardly been sleeping and when i have it's been restless. i sleep with the lights on because i can literally feel eyes on me when they're off, and i hide under the covers because if i have any part of my body exposed i have this overwhelming fear that something is watching me, stalking me, waiting to grab me. the fucking mouse makes so much noise in my room, dicking around in anything on the ground, and it keeps me awake. when i do drift off it's only a matter of time until i wake up again due to a nightmare or more noise. my blinds fell off my window and there's just a gaping void beyond, and every time i look out i feel like there's going to be something staring back.

i haven't had contact with my best friend since yesterday. they've completely cut me off after saying we don't have to be friends anymore and i'm fucking terrified for them. all of my messages have gone through, so they haven't blocked me, but they haven't been online and haven't responded to anything. they haven't been active on twitter either. i'm so fucking scared that i might've lost one of the most important people in my life and i couldn't do anything to help. we live in different states and i don't know their address and i can't drive so it's not like i can just go to their house and check on them. i'm living in this constant limbo, not knowing if they're alive or not, not knowing if they need space or need me to reach out, not knowing if i did something wrong or if it's just their mental illness fucking with them again.

and i'm expected to just be fine?? the world's on fire people are being killed for the mere crime of existing in the wrong place my life is falling to pieces and i'm just expected to live my life like nothing is happening?? i have a ged test on the fourteenth and honestly if things don't get better i might have to cancel. i'm so fucking tired but i can't sleep, i'm hungry but eating makes me feel sick. i want to just vanish off the face of the earth.

there were so many things i had planned. we had planned. i wanted to publish my books. they had a whole list of art ideas they wanted to do. we had so many stories to write, and every time i go to work on one of them it feels wrong, because they're not here to work on it with me. so many stories just dropped, so many plotlines abandoned because it doesn't feel right to do something with them. we were going to read each other's favourite books. i can't even look at or write anything about like half my major oc's because they've been so heavily tied to my friend. caden's the worst one because of how closely i associate him with them. their last post on twitter included a sketch of him.

they said they had to live to february 7th so that they could get luca's once skin. and now i don't even know if they'll ever do that. i can only hope and pray that they're just taking a break for their mental health. i'm hanging on by a fucking thread here and honestly depending on the news i get i might not see 2025. the lack of sleep is feeding my anxiety and my anxiety is feeding the lack of sleep. i'm so fucking paranoid and filled with dread. i feel so disgusting and useless and pathetic and i can only hope this too will pass, but at this point i don't know if it will.

[randomprojectsbeforeidie]

Studying as much as I can (Daily Log 1/21 AGAIN)

Holy shit my pals. I had the worst morning you could have. My meds have been giving me insomnia, but this was the worst night until today. I don't think I managed 3h of sleep this night.

Got up at 6h, had to cancel presential work 'cause I had no condition to drive. Since I couldn't sleep, my grumpy self decided to research some more study tips. Here's what I got from the Instagram I cited yesterday:

1. Use an agenda for organization (done)

2. Organize your study space. This one was more aesthetic than anything, but I was in a bad mood and tried to do it to try and lift my humors. Here's my chaotic desk after some organizing:

Not pretty or "aesthetic", but it's clean, and that's what matters.

3. Plan you week (done)

4. Have some pauses in your work (I already use Pomodoro)

5. Write in a journal when you're feeling bad. Yeah, my journal heard some good swearing today, you can bet.

6. Don't study in bed. It will interfere with both your studies and your sleep (I used to be guilty of this during college, but it's been a while since I stopped. Thank God, the insomnia doesn't need any additional help)

7. Study everyday, except for Sundays

8. Decompress before studying. This is useful for when I finish work. Maybe wash my face, eat something, and THEN studying.

9. Do all the practice questions (working on it)

9. Sleep 8 hours a night (guilty. I will elaborate on this later)

10. Hydrate. This was cool. Made the calculations, and I should drink 2.800ml of water a day. That means 5 of my watter bottles. That means... roughly one third of a bottle every hour from 6h to 20h. Easy peasy, I did this today.

11. Therapy (had therapy today. Mental health is important, I gotta make sure I have time for the homework my therapist gives me)

12. Exercise. Ok. How about walking 3 times a week? 30 minute walks? Let's start there. Let's start tomorrow and hope my wonky knee doesn't protest.

13. Give yourself rewards for studying (mine are social media breaks in Pomodoro)

14. Take your vitamins. Working on it. Gotta buy more.

15. Follow Nexo Jornal. It is good for the written part of the test. I just signed their newsletter, and will try to listen to their Podcast, Durma com essa.

So. I decided I needed a sleep routine. I fucking NEED to sleep, I'm going crazy.

1. Take a warm shower, listen to calm music

2. Drop your electronics 1h before sleeping

3. Keep your room dark

4. Don't you dare look at that damn clock after you go to bed

5. Only drink coffe in the morning

6. Exercise (ugh. Again. I get it. Gotta move)

7. Have a wake up time (6h)

8. If I can't sleep, I should go to another room and read until I'm sleepy

9. Only use the bed for sleep and sex

10. This one is mine, but maybe try to sleep with some plushies? I used to do this until recently, don't know why I stopped.

And you know what? Even with this awful morning, I managed to study 4 HOURS today! On top of work! On top of Halloween tasks! I got it!

And it was great. There's a pattern I'm getting: I find it hard to start studying, but once I start, I don't wanna stop. So let's fucking GOOOO!

Sleep: 3 hours

Therapy: check

Exercise: rest day

Vitamins: check

Water: 5 full bottles baby

And now I gotta go do my sleep routine. Happy Halloween!

[barnesbabee]

𝓹𝓵𝓪𝔂 𝓭𝓪𝓽𝓮 - 𝓽𝓮𝓷

|| ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ || ⇜ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ - 10 - ɴᴇxᴛ⟿

⟿ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: No sensible person would turn down their boss if they looked good as good as Seonghwa. But maybe they would wish they had…

⟿ ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴘᴛ: CEO!Seonghwa x reader, bestfriend!Yunho x reader || Social Media!AU

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: (send me a DM or an ask to be added) @ateezappreciation @shinyddeonghwa @lilithpooped @cloudyyeonnie@yeosangmystar @wooyoung-a @sanisms @mingismoon @lovelyvitamin @anawwyd @annasbannas @im-just-trying-to-survive-man @uglychildd @oddlittlefandomist@pirateland @jin-neck-shaft @lovelyvitamin

"Seonghwa I was kidnapped."

"What the fuck."

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

There was more silence in the line. Seonghwa didn't know what to say, and the half bottle of wine he had just had was starting to kick in.

"Are you serious!? Y/N are you okay!?"

"Y-yes yes I think so, I'm not harmed. I know it's a bit much to ask but, can you come get me?"

"Yes, of course, share your location and I'll be there in a minute. Are you in danger!? How many people should I bring!? Do we need guns?"

"Just you should be fine, it's just one asshole and his friend..."

"What?"

Seonghwa was visibly confused, and rightfully so.

"I'll explain everything once you're here... I'm sorry."

"No, no don't be, I'm in my garage already, I'll be there in a second."

Once you hung up you felt a little unsafe, so you walked a little further to get away from the house, and, in a blink of an eye, Seonghwa's red SUV pulled up right beside you.

He came out of the car and held your shoulders, examining your body for any bruises, scratches, or blood. Fortunately, you had nothing but a couple bruises on your knees and hips, that he couldn't see.

"Are you okay?" He asked, looking into your eyes.

"I'm okay now."

You gave him a small smile, which he returned. He put his arm around your waist and helped you seat on the passenger seat of his car.

"So," he said, as he started the car once more "what the fuck happened?"

You sighed, there was a lot to unpack.

"I've kept some really close friends from high school, San, whom I'm sure you've heard of, Jongho, Mingi, and Yunho. We were always very close, and I was particularly close to Yunho. We grew a little apart after we graduated 'cause professionally we were looking for different things, but Yunho and I realized we couldn't be apart, so we started dating. Everything was going well but towards the end, we started having more fights, more arguments,... So I decided it would be better to break up while we could still be friends before it became more toxic and our group of friends would fall apart. But he started having some really shitty behavior... He would scare and push away anyone who tried to date me or to flirt with me, but I never mentioned anything and never made much of a fuss because I really cared about him still, after all, we had been such close friends for a long time, it was hard to let go. Once I applied to your company and learned about you I was a little... starstruck and amazed, by you."

You could see him blush slightly and smile (a smile he tried to hide) from the corner of your eye. But he kept quiet and listened.

"I talked about you to my friends, and Yunho hated it. But there was nothing he could do because unlike everybody else he didn't have direct contact with you, to try and scare you off. And once I announced I was hired, he hated it cause it meant I'd be closer to you. He straight-up called me a whore. A couple days after that he apologized in a very weird way, it was creepy, so San told me he'd pick me up after work 'cause it was dark and not very safe anyway, but today- yesterday" You reiterated, after noticing it was well past midnight "I told him not to pick me up because I'd be meeting you after work, so I'd just be riding an uber anyway. I don't know if Yunho found out about me going to your house, or if he just waited every day until San didn't pick me up, but a black van pulled up in front of me and someone pulled me inside. I had no idea what was going on, I passed out and when I woke up I was in a dark room alone. Yunho barged in some time after and came with the 'see, I'm here and Seonghwa isn't' type of conversation, and that's when I found out he had orchestrated the whole thing for me to notice how much better he supposedly is..."

Seonghwa sighed and rested his head on the car's seat.

"Shit... That's a lot to unpack."

You hummed in agreement.

"I'm sorry I know it's a lot to deal with, you can just... drop me off at home."

"No, no absolutely not. He knows where you live, doesn't he? If he's insane enough to fake kidnap you, he's crazy enough to pull up to your house and do God knows what. I'm taking you back to my house, you can take a shower and I'll lend you some clothes, I'm sure something of mine fits you."

You smiled at his kindness. You really didn't expect Seonghwa to be like that. Deep down you thought he would be the classic 'work above anything' type of CEO, one that really didn't care about others, but you were surprised.

"Seonghwa, I don't know what to say... We have known each other for no longer than a week."

"Well that's true but... How do I say this without seeming too forward, we seem like a nice match. Texting you is the most fun part of most of my days and I like the way you're able to separate personal life from professional life. I'm not going to lie after we exchanged some... texts, I was afraid you'd start sprawling on my desk naked and I really didn't want to have an awkward conversation with you about limits and boundaries."

It was hard to contain your laughter. Although he was a confident man, you could tell he was a little awkward when talking about certain issues just like that. You smiled and brushed his hair away from his eyes.

You got to his house quickly, but the engine going quiet didn't stop your conversation. He gently took a hold of your hand and guided you inside.

"I'm glad you think like that, after Yunho talked to me I was afraid you'd be using me just for sex."

Seonghwa chuckled.

"I guess that's the general idea..." He sighed before continuing his sentence "Maybe I shouldn't be telling you this, I have never told anyone, not even Wooyoung 'cause he would yell at me, but it's actually the other way around. Women come to me and I happily have sex with them, not gonna lie, and then they end up ghosting me or telling me to fuck off after I try to become closer to them. I guess it's my fault, I'm a little dense when it comes to understanding what women want."

You could tell he was a little embarrassed for admitting that. He was looking away as if the wall was the most interesting thing in the world, and his cheeks had a little pink tint to them. You grabbed his hands and looked into his eyes.

"It's okay, I'll make sure to send understandable messages."

You both smiled widely at the joke, but then everything was serious. You were staring deeply into each other's eyes and you were suddenly aware of the closeness of your bodies. You could tell Seonghwa was hesitant, and you wanted to follow through with your promise.

You got on your tiptoes and kissed the corner of his lips, signaling that you wanted the same he did.

He cupped your cheek, gently yet firmly, and brought your face closer to his. Seonghwa teased you for a second, not quite closing the gap between your lips. You groaned quietly, revealing your restlessness for him, and he finally connected your lips, in a soft, innocent, yet long kiss. It soon turned into something else, something rougher and full of meaning, His hands were stiff on your waist, gripping you tightly as if preventing themselves from roaming somewhere else.

"You know, you don't need to hold back, Sir..." You said when you broke apart.

He groaned at the little pet name you knew he loved.

"I know doll, but I promised no funny business, you need to rest, it's been a long day."

Seonghwa kissed your lips gently and rubbed his thumb on your waist. He then kissed your neck and approached his lips to your ear.

"Plus, I have plenty of time to test you out, don't I?"

[dustofthedailylife]

I saw some <a href=https://twitter.com/UniversoGenshi2/status/1547383143463882755?t=6PSndH7OBj5qRAUc3dwxxA&s=19">links with more tan npcs</a> but between Tighnari being named after a Spanish/Muslim Agronomist & Poet, and these coming out after the general outrage died down I'm starting to think they're just fucking with us, OR the visual design team has full plates & they don't have anyone dedicated to checking ethnic sensitivity

I was actually talking to an artist about the different platforms this morning and described Twitter like a busy New York street corner 😅 whereas tumblr is pretty cozy and while you can't market anything for shit over here it's great for design testing and germinating a community 🌱

But yeah you REALLY have to curate your experience on Twitter 😶

I actually have some conspiracies about the harbingers 👀 but idk who'd encourage my batshit ideas

~ 🧄

[Link] (LEAKS!)

I usually try and avoid talking about leaks but since they've kinda been everywhere I think most people have seen the Sumeru leaks already, I'll make an exception, haha! In case anyone hasn't don't click the link.

We shall see what they will do regarding the playable characters but the NPCs look more diverse for sure. Hope they'll do that for the playable characters as well. After all, all we can really do is wait for official annoucements because after all we technically aren't even supposed to know what the future characters look like already, so they can't really offcially react to it yet. At least Collei, Dori and Tighnari didn't get any changes, though, but that might be because their design was pretty much final already at the time of the leaks.

And that about sums it up with Twitter! That's why tumblr is for me personally is my favorite social media platform. I haven't used it in years before creating this blog earlier this year but I am so glad I came back.

And if you want, feel free to send in your conspiracies, I'm curios to hear them. Especially since I've been brainrotting heavily since the trailer dropped.

[chickenscratchxx]

gen Z blm movement rant 

By: chicken.scratch

Let me preface this rant first off by stating that I have no dog in this fight. I don't indulge politics. I don't indulge Donald trump. I don't indulge any government related issues. Why you ask? Getting involved in politics is highly addictive. Hunter S. Thompson is quoted saying that it is "better than sex".  My dislike for politics had humble beginings that stem from my AP gov teacher giving me C, due to a clash that happened a couple months prior to finals. I'm an asshole so when you say something boneless that offends my peers and I and that which involves our pot smoking habits, be ready to go on the defensive, because Jordan is coming at you thirty eight hot. So lets dig in. 

These days it seems that you can't get away from racial issues. Everywhere you go. Whether its social media, TV, YouTube, even three blocks from my house there is constant protesting. I just keep my shades on, headphones in, and grab my pack of cigs and leave.  Now you can look at that and say "Fuck you Jordan your white. You have no idea what its like to be oppressed ". I would agree with you. The only oppression I have ever seen is the unpopularity involving my writing.  Yet this post has nothing to do with either white black or yellow. It does however have everything to do with trends and how they can take your power without even knowing it. But for the sake of a current event we are going to use the blm movement.

The first time the blm movement took presence in my life was after the Trayvon Martin murder. At the time I was to ignorant to take a side. My parents raised my little brother and I with hardly any conditioning on race, sexuality, or political points of view. They are two true free spirits who always believed their greatest parenting lessons stem from unconditional love. So as long as I have been walking this earth, color was just strictly a color. Nothing more. Nothing less. To this day I have never looked a persons skin color and seen demographics, income levels, prejudice is non existent.

Today as I scroll through social media at least fifty percent of all the content I see involves; cop arrest gone wrong, blacked out photos, and Becky flipping birds to a row of cops trying to enjoy their food. The interesting thing about all of these post is that seventy five percent of the people posting them are white. It is one massive conglomeration of people who have no first hand experience with issues that they are talking about. 

This blm movement reminds me of the still present juul/vape movement. Millions of young Americans are now addicted to nicotine because social media made it cool. I myself am addicted to nicotine. I smoke a pack a day and vape nearly a pod a day. But I'm a fucking junkie and I tell you right now I fucking hate smoking. It will take me out of this world one day. Yet I've accepted that. That was a lie I thoroughly enjoy smoking. The packing of the freshly wrapped pack, the lighter, and the chain smoking. Use what I love about smoking as a metaphor if you will.  Gen Z loves the freshly wrapped drama, the violence, and the non stop continuum of the back and forth arguments between antagonist and protagonist. So the next time you're on YouTube, grab a bag of popcorn and get comfortable because it is nothing short of the Roman gladiator era of pleasing the people with a distraction to keep their thoughts off how shitty their actual life is. Now every time I drive through Atlanta and someone is pulled over there is an entire social justice pose just waiting for the other shoe to drop and the cop do something he shouldn't be doing. 

This concept of distraction is also at large with the covid-15. I've had session plenty of women who tested positive within a susceptible period of time. I don't have it. Now by no means am I a conspiracy theorist but the idea of distraction gives a sense of purpose to our lives. Life is boring for the heard if there is nothing to be concerned about. We live in a world of fear. So every time you post something about civic or the blm movement just know that you're feeding the beast. The beast is whatever is trending on Twitter in this moment. The beast is as fluid as water and has the appetite of Godzilla. It feeds off negative energy and pushes you, my mom, and Becky my next door neighbor all into a defensive lets retweet the negativity instead of finding a solution mode. Its a cheap purpose to some idea that is going to be stamped over by a even dumber idea in a matter of days. So if you're one of the people searching for social injustice every single place you go, FUCK YOU. But you make my job fun so more power to you. 

-yours truly

[caroline18mars]

A Man On Fire - Chapter 48

Crowded restaurant, crowded club, too many smartphones about with a lot of cameras, so you ask for a vip area but what do you do when practically everyone in the club is in that VIP-area? Val, no stay away from me, we're being recognized already, or at least I am. “Val..come on, don't” he protested as she tried to put her arm around his waist and push herself up to him, as if to say, this one is all mine, we're an item, “don't what?” she flapped her eyelashes at him all innocently. “We're not an item anymore, Val, there's too many cameras about and I don't want to get into trouble with Harper, and neither do I want to have to explain things that might upset her because she might get the wrong idea” he took a step back to put enough distance between them. “Harper? Cool name” she deviously smiled at him, sipping her cocktail, “I'm serious Val, I think Harper is the one, I don't want to risk losing her over some stupid misunderstanding, so if you're looking to cause trouble, then it isn't going to work, ok? I appreciate you as a friend, I do, but you and I..nothing's ever gonna happen between us again, I just want to make that clear”. Val just shrugged to his statement “yeah yeah fuddy duddy, can we go dance now? Besides from what I saw on your Insta, she's too busy painting to make ends meet anyway, so she's not all that selfmade woman as she claims to be, she did need a little shoutout from sugardaddy to get some kind of career started, didn't she?” her sarcastic laughter bellowed loud over the music, making heads turn. “That's not..” he protested but she just spun on her heels, “Val?!..” he tried getting her attention but she ignored his plea, grabbed his wrist and pulled him over to the dancefloor.

A light knock on the door pulled her out of her concentration, no first this one piece of shade before he will just start  babbling again, another impatient knock “hold on Sean, I'll be right there” she yelled in the direction of the door, what did he want now? Oh fuck this, she dropped the brush with a sigh and jumped off the scaffolding to open the door. God, she was getting sexier by the day, it took him every ounce of willpower to stay calm “hey, just thought I'd drop by and tell you the news” he smiled under her awkward, disturbed stare and brushed past her, not waiting for her to invite him. “Come right in” she snapped “what news?” she followed him into the kitchen where he was already raiding her fridge in search for a beer, it wasn't even noon yet, “Shannon called..” he smirked as he put the bottle to his mouth, “oh..” was all she could mutter as she started washing the paint from her hands. “Yep, apparantly they're in dire need of extra crew..so he asked me to join again” he sat down, “oh” she said again, she was a little shocked..and happy that he wouldn't be around to bother her anymore, but on the other hand she'd be alone in NY again and if and when she decided to fly back to Jared, her nemesis would be there too, she just couldn't win. “You clearly accepted, so when are you leaving?” drying her hands she avoided his stare, “tonight” he took another swig from his beer, “are you gonna say something other than just 'oh', come on, 'fess up, something is clearly bothering you”, ugh was that ugly smirk on his face really necessary?. “There's nothing bothering me, except for the fact that I was in the middle of something, so if there's nothing else..” she avoided his stare. “It's nearly noon, I'm hungry and so are you, I know because you're cranky, so why don't we go out for some lunch? We'll talk some more, and it'll give us some quality us-time before I leave again” his arm wrapped around her waist, wowww, wait a minute, don't you touch me, not after everything you've done and said. “Sorry, no can do, my muse is calling” she lied, it had stopped calling an hour ago, she just didn't want to go out with him, being forced to listen to his ranting about himself..it just threw her stomach in knots, she'd rather go out and have some lunch by herself and collect her thoughts. “Oh..” yes oh, now get out of my flat, you prick, “shame..ok, well I'll leave you to it then” he put his bottle down “am I still gonna see you before I leave tonight?” he was on the verge of pouting, “I'll call you, alright?” will you just go now?. Finally he followed her as she escorted him to the door, “Harp..” he tried again, clearly feeling uncomfortable, oh good, “why don't you come? I bet Jared is missing you already given the way he's behaving already, he's been acting like a frikking lunatic”. The mention of her lover's name made her head shoot up “huh? What do you mean?” don't listen to him, he's only trying to get under your skin with his bullshit, “uhmm..no, nothing, forget I said anything..” goddammit..no, don't fall for it, ignore him, “ok..well, have a safe flight..I'll see you when I see you” she flashed him an insecure smile, “I'll say hello to Jared” just GET OUT! “ok you do that! Bye Sean”, the slamming door nearly hit him on the ass, why was she so angry all of a sudden? Just because he told her the truth about that nitwit that was her boyfriend, pfff, whatever, I'll see you soon enough.

And there you had it, trouble caught on a couple of nosy cameras, he could already see the headlines and tweets, it was only a matter of seconds, he pulled out of her embrace that felt like a bodylock and stomped off, “Wait! Jared, come on, where are you going?” Val hopped after him, giggling and pushing herself a way through the crowd, “I'm not gonna do this here” he snarked when she grabbed his elbow and jumped in front of him, “do what? What is the problem, we were just dancing” that godawful grin of hers, she just refused to take anything seriously. “No we weren't, wait no, you weren't planning on just dancing, you had this planned all along, didn't you? You knew what you were doing and you knew there were gonna be cameras about, private club? my foot!” he hissed, no, don't give her the satisfaction, just stay calm and get out of here. Outside the club the rain was pouring down mercilessly, where was that car on stand-by when you needed it? No cab? Fine, he would just walk then, he needed to cool down anyway! Walking down the street his heart hammered, he was so sick of being around all those people who loved causing drama, this was supposed to be an innocent night out, some alcohol, some dancing moves that needed to be tested, catching up with old friends and all of a sudden she'd turned it into some kind of sleazy freakshow with groping and grinding, performing her own little porn video in front of eager cameras. Harper baby, I miss you, sure I want to be the understanding boyfriend of a multitalented artist who needs time to herself, but I don't know if I can for much longer, I don't even want to think this but I hope the inspiration dries up a bit, so you can finally come over, god now I really sound like the egotistical jerk/boyfriend. He should call her, that video is gonna be all over social media and what if she sees it..a limo splashed through the driving rain and lowered speed next to him “yo, Cinderella, why don't you get in the car?” the window lowered and the head of his drunk brother appeared. He stopped walking and tried to see who else was in the car, there was Stevie..oh fuck it, a warm and dry car sounded like music to his ears now, so he hopped in, “Val's looking for you” his brother had to suppress a giggle, “just shut up Shannon” he snapped as he pulled off his jacket, soaking the leather seat next to him. “You're the one who said it would be fun having her around” Shannon shrugged, “guess I forgot how much trouble she is, I want her off this tour” his little brother pulled his long hair up into a wet, messy bun. “I thought you loved trouble, looks like Harper's got you on a tight leash already” Shannon raised his eyebrows, he wasn't particularly fond of proverbial leashes, not on himself and not on his little brother. “Not that it's any of your business but I'm not on anyone's leash, alright? Harper's my girl and Val still thinks she is, I won't let her destroy what Harper Coco and I have, nope! So you got her on this tour, you can get her out of it as well, is that understood?”.

Should he send her an e-mail? A text maybe, that was a lot quicker in putting her and his mind at ease that everything was ok, and that she probably would never see the pics of him and Val, right a text it was. On the other side of the ocean, Harper pushed the last asparagus around the plate, she was feeling the fatigue of being cooped up all day inside the loft, and from being in the same position too long, it was good to be out and even better being without Sean, a bleep interrupted her thoughts. 'Wish you were here, I miss you so bad..<3' aw Jay, you hopeless romantic, 'I miss you too, but the question is: what are you doing up so late, I know for a fact that it's the middle of the night there right now' she put the phone down and then quickly  picked it up again to google the time difference, see? 5 AM..no time for Jay to be up yet. 'We all went to this club and I just got back, a lot of drinks and people who like to pretend they're 'with the band', but all I really want is to be with YOU!', aha parties parties parties, it was moments like these that she actually realized that the man who she was dating was famous, and it never ceased to be weird..and fun, but the drama that surrounded him she could do without, and there was drama, she could read it in the text. Sean's words hammered through her head, he was acting like a lunatic he'd said, uh enough with the texting, the only way to find out if something happened was to call him, she could always hear it if he was upset or angry. His phone rang just as he was sliding into bed, “You ok? Did something happen? I'm a bit worried” her voice danced in his ear, and his entire body instantly reacted, “oh babe, I'm so glad you called, you don't have to worry..how's things back there? I'm just trying my very best not to miss you too much, or I would get on a plane back to the States right now” he pinched the bridge of his nose, if she knew what happened back in the club. “So..did Sean arrive safely?” he could hear her swallow hard, “huh? Sean?” what? Where?, “Yeah Sean, you know, you invited him back on tour..I just don't understand  ..”, her voice was so hard all of a sudden. “I honestly don't know anything about that..maybe Shannon asked him..” he heard the fast beeps of a second call coming in, whoever it was it would just have to wait, his girl always had priority. “Oh..” was all she said, he wasn't gonna let this conversation turn in to a a flaming row, “babe, I honestly don't know anything about it, I'll talk to Shannon in the morning, ok? Let's not talk about Sean right now, let's talk about us, how about that mail you sent where you were being just a little bit horny” he tried to change the subject and gladly, phonesex was not the real thing, but right now it was better than no sex at all, missing her this much was simply unbearable. “Well played, Leto!” she giggled a little and it was music to his ears “but I'm too tired, I just want to go to bed and sleeeeeppp, been a long day, just tell me everything is ok over there and you're fighting every temptation that I'm sure is surrounding you there” her voice rolled calm and sweet in his ears. “Everything is ok” no hesitation, you have to sound convinced and put her mind at ease “I don't have to fight, because there is no temptation, and if there was, all you have to remember is that I chose you..in a hundred..a thousand lives I will always choose you, I love you Harper Coco and there's nothing you can do about that”. A tear trickled down her cheek and she let out a breath she didn't even know she was holding “I love you too, so much..I'll be with you before you know it” she smiled through her tears “Dream about me when you go to sleep, I'll do exactly the same”. Jared closed his eyes “Promise, talk to you in a couple of hours? Call me when you wake up? Goodnight gorgeous..” they both whispered their goodbyes until the inevitable dry click of a disconnected call followed. He put the phone back on the nightstand, rolled on his side and turned off the light, what he didn't hear was the door opening and someone tiptoeing into the room, he was just too tired and he was already sinking into a deep sleep when he was rudely awakened by a body sliding into bed with him, a hand snaking around his chest, a warm breath against his ear “you can't escape me now”.

[thelocalshooter]

The Local Shooter Vs. KORRUPT

(LS ) Hello thank you guys for allowing me to interview your group! If you guys can all introduce yourselves and where you guys are from? 

(K) WERE KORRUPT WE HAVE 10 MEMBERS IN OUR COLLECTIVE:

NOHOESSTEPH - GLENDALE, ARIZONA

CRISTIAN PEREZ - GLENDALE, ARIZONA

PANCHOR3VENGE- PHOENIX, ARIZONA

GAMDEVII - CHICAGO, ILLINOIS

RUDEBOYURL - HOUSTON, TEXAS

VRO4K - DOWNEY, CALIFORNIA

VINTAJ- BETHESDA, MARYLAND

SCAM - DETROIT, MICHIGAN

WHOKILLEDROI - PHOENIX, ARIZONA

ZEUS - GLENDALE, ARIZONA

(LS) How did korrupt come about? And how long have you guys been a collective? 

(K) THE IDEA OF KORRUPT CAME ABOUT LATE NOVEMBER EARLY DECEMBER. HOWEVER THE BEGINNING OF FEBRUARY WAS WHEN EVERYONE CAME TOGETHER AND THE NAME WAS INITIALLY FOR A CLOTHING BRAND THAT NOHOESSTEPH HAD BEEN PLANNING, BUT SCRAPPED IT. WHEN THE NAME WAS BEING THROWN AROUND IN THE STUDIO AND WHEN VRO WENT IN FOR HIS VERSE ON THE FIRST TRACK OF THE ALBUM HE SAID “WE KORRUPT” WE ALL KNEW RIGHT THEN THAT WAS THE NAME.

(LS) Does korrupt come with it's own sounds or do you guys think you're individual sound is what makes you guys great as a collective?

(K) KORRUPT HAS BEEN A COLLECTIVE FOR ABOUT A YEAR NOW. KORRUPT SO FAR HAS TACKLED THE RAGE RAP SOUND FOR OUR FIRST SELF TITLE PROJECT “KORRUPT VOL. 1” HOWEVER WE ALL ARE VERY DIVERSE IN TERMS OF SOUND. MOVING FORWARD THERE WILL BE NO CATEGORIES AND NO LABLES. IF WE FEEL LIKE WE CAN MAKE IT THEN WE WILL. WE WANNA BE ABLE TO MAKE ALL TYPES OF SOUND.

(LS) What's the next move for you guys as far as visuals or shows? Is there anything special planned now that the pandemic is slowing down?

(K) THE MOVE FOR NOW IS TO DROP AND PROMOTE ALOT OF OUR SINGLES THAT WE HAVE READY TO GO. WE ALSO WANNA GET SOME VIDEOS DONE FOR THE FIRST PROJECT BECAUSE THE PANDEMIC SLOWED THAT DOWN. WE ALSO PLAN ON GETTING SOME SHOWS GOING SOON AND COLLABORATING WITH LOCAL ARTISTS.

(LS) Do you guys think there's any other group or artists you guys would collaborate with in the city or outside the city?

(K) WE ARENT REALLY LOOKING TO COLLABORATE WITH BIG ARTISTS BUT WE WONT PASS UP THE OPPORTUNITY IF IT COMES. WE ARE INTERESTED IN WORKING WITH LSG. THEY ARE A LOCAL COLLECTIVE OUT HERE IN AZ AND WE FUCK WITH THEIR STYLE AND MUSIC.

(LS) Have you guys thought of making a collective tape? Like on some cozy boy vibes?

(K) AS OF RN A BIG COLLECTIVE TAPE IS NOT IN THE WORKS. WERE SAVING “KORRUPT VOL.2” FOR THE RIGHT TIME. WE ARE JUST FOCUSED MORE ON SINGLES, MIXTAPES AND DUO EPS. WE WANNA TEST WATERS WE HAVENT SWAM IN YET.

(LS) As far as the arizona music scene do you guys think you guys get the recognition yall deserve for being such an underground group you guys don't get mentioned in the lil Prado convos or the freddie kev convo why's that ?

(K) WE BELIEVE WE DESERVE ALL THE RECOGNITION WE ARE GETTING AS OF RIGHT NOW AND WE DESERVE MORE. WE BELIEVE WE ARE ENTITLED TO THAT. WE ALSO BELIEVE WE NEED TO EARN OUR RECOGNITION AND RESPECT. WE ARE STILL VERY NEW AND ARE LEARNING ALOT ABOUT OURSELVES AS A COLLECTIVE AND WE ARE GROWING ALONG SIDE THE ATTENTION WE ARE RECEIVING. PRADA AND FREDDIE ARE VERY TALENTED ARTISTS AND EARN EVERY PIECE OF RECOGNITION THAT THEY GET. WE TIP OUR HATS TO THEM. THEY WORK HARD. MOST IMPORTANTLY THEY PUT ON FOR THE CITY AND WE WOULD LOVE TO BE A PIONEER FOR THE AZ SOUND AS WELL.

(LS) How can an artist join korrupt if they'd like to? Or is the team set in stone? 

(K) AS FAR AS NOW KORRUPT IS NOT ACTIVELY SEEKING MEMBERS. KORRUPT IS ALOT OF THINGS. A BRAND, A COLLECTIVE BUT AT THE END OF THE DAY ITS A BROTHERHOOD. WE ARE ALL LINKED IN SOMEWAY. WE ALL KNOWN EACHOTHER FOR A WHILE. THRU DIFFERENT SCHOOLS AND DIFFERENT MEMBERS IN THE GROUP. WE ALL HAVE LOVE FOR EACHOTHER AND WE BELIEVE THATS WHAT MAKES US SPECIAL. HOWEVER KORRUPT ALSO DOESNT JUST HAVE RAPPERS. WE HAVE FRIENDS THAT BEAR OUR NAME AS WELL. AS FAR AS THE MUSIC ITS PRETTY SOLIDIFIED FOR NOW. BUT FOR OUR MAIN SUPPORTERS, OUR FANS AND ASSOCIATES LIKE: ENGINEERS,PHOTOGRAPHERS , VIDEOGRAPHERS ETC. THEY ALL HAVE THAT BRAND TO THEM AS WELL. IF THEY BELIEVE THEY ARE KORRUPT THEN THEY ARE. ITS AN IDEA. ITS A WAY OF LIFE.

(LS) Can we expect anything new coming from you guys very soon or do we just got to keep our eyes peeled?

(K) LOTS AND LOTS OF SINGLES ARE ON THE WAY. WE HAVE BEEN WORKING NONSTOP. “VRO$TEPH” IS ON THE WAY! A COLLABORATION EP BETWEEN OUR TWO MEMBERS VRO4K AND NOHOES$TEPH. WE ARE VERY EXCITED TO GET THE BALL ROLLING. ONCE THE MOST RECENT DROP HAPPENS WE PLAN ON ONLY TURNING IT UP FROM THERE!

(LS) Where do you guys see yourself in the future? Are you guys looking to sign a deal, stay independent maybe even start your own label some day? 

Thank you for allowing me to interview you guys as a collective is there anything else you guys would like to mention? Shout outs? Music links? Social Media? 

Please drop below and until next time ...

(K) AS FAR AS SIGNING ANY DEALS WE DONT THINK SO. WE WANNA STAY INDEPENDENT FOR NOW. A LABEL IS DEFINITELY THE GOAL IN THE FUTURE BUT FOR NOW WERE STAYING INDEPENDENT. THERES 10 OF US SO A LABEL WOULD NEED TO THROW A LARGE SUM AT US TO GET US SIGNING ANYTHING.

Twitter: https://twitter.com/wekorrupt?s=21

Instagram:

https://instagram.com/kkorruppt?igshid=ql7wb59wcw40

Soundcloud:

https://soundcloud.com/kkorruppt?ref=clipboard&p=i&c=0

Apple:

https://music.apple.com/us/artist/korrupt/1518702195

Spotify:

https://open.spotify.com/artist/0jgC6QRqAUyyG3VtxhmRGi?si=gaOXhdgDR-uoV0Ij-nPwZg

The Local Shooter Vs. KORRUPT

[cyanoscarlet]

if it ain't broke, don't fix it

(stories on (and off) ice)

Once upon a time, on a sunny afternoon in Bangkok, Phichit Chulanont broke the door of the fridge twice, then broke the fridge down completely.

The big, old, white box had been a wedding gift to his parents, at that time the latest model of its kind. Among all the appliances in their house, it had been the only one that stood the test of time, lasting even longer than the old analog TV set. His mother had been adamant about keeping it around despite the increasingly bad reception it got and the colors bleeding over all the wrong places. She'd changed her mind, however, when she'd won a new flatscreen unit from a company raffle draw.

In any case, this refrigerator was the last thing in the house that dated back to the humble beginnings of the Chulanont family -- given that his older sister was born two years after their marriage, and she's now twenty-four, the fridge must be a little over twenty-six years old.

  .

  "And you're telling us this, why again?" Leo sits across him and Guanghong on the bed, fiddling with his tablet's notifications. Definitely no social media again until after the US Nationals.

Phichit props his feet up the mess of pillows and blankets, putting down his beloved Galaxy Note 7 beside the gold medal. "Just remembered it all of a sudden."

  .

  As with the TV set, Pirawan Chulanont had been even more vocal against replacing the old fridge. "Only the door hinges are rusted. I'm not replacing it while it's completely functional," she argued from the kitchen sink while Siriwan carefully shut the door, a bottle of cold water tucked in her arm.

"Mother, you cannot make us 'support the door with both hands when you open and close it' forever," the eldest of the three siblings countered back, reading verbatim the hastily-scribbled reminder stuck to the door with a Thai Skating Federation commemorative magnet. "You know how Phichit raids this thing almost every day."

"Well, he'll have to learn to 'raid the thing' less, then," their mother said simply. "He's a competitive skater; he has to eat more real food and less sweets."

Siriwan sighed in defeat. As the future doctor of the house, she was inclined to agree.

Just then, Phichit burst into the entryway, a medium-sized package in his arms. "I'm home, everyone! Yuuri sent us some Japanese snacks."

Anchalee, the youngest, squealed from behind him, also having just arrived from high school. "Ahhhhhh yesssss! Is there Pocky?! Is there?! Brother Yuuri knows I love the strawberry-flavored ones!"

The young girl excitedly pushed her brother to the kitchen, where Siriwan opened the package to sort its contents. "I'll put these in the fridge for you guys," she offered, carefully balancing the door on a low makeshift stand, then slowly pushing both implements carefully to open the refrigerator wide enough.

  .

  "No, Brother Yuuri has not heard of that until now." Yuuri emerges from the bathroom, wiping his hands dry with a paper towel. "Is that why Anchalee has been avoiding me back when we visited your place?"

"What can I say? You broke her heart," Phichit mock-accuses his good friend. "She hates anything with matcha the most."

"Speaking of Pocky flavors," Guanghong pipes up, "which flavor does Yuuri like?" Suddenly, the room is quiet as the three young skaters wait for his answer with bated breath.

"... Chocolate, I guess," Yuuri mutters after a couple of minutes.

Phichit immediately wiggles his eyebrows with glee. "I'll make sure to tell Viktor later!"

"PHICHIT, NO."

  .

  As mentioned earlier, it happened one sunny afternoon in Bangkok.

Phichit returned home for lunch, feeling incredibly accomplished after that morning's practice run. Landing his quadruple toe loop perfectly always gave him a euphoric rush, and he was raring to go back to the rink and skate some more until dinner time. The Cup of China is fast approaching; he can't waste a single minute.

But first, food. Some dessert wouldn't hurt. And iced water - lots of it.

He hastily opened the fridge to get the water and a box of matcha Pocky -- and froze in place when he heard a metallic creak and snap. Suddenly, the door felt a lot heavier than usual.

Phichit fearfully peered over the white door. The bottom hinge had completely come off, the holes in which the lone screw was supposed to be rusted away beyond any and all recognition.

Somewhere in his jumbled thoughts, he vaguely remembered his older sister grumbling about having to install a stupid improvised harness for the top hinge because keeping the top screw in place would not be enough to support the door's weight.

He inspected said harness from the periphery of his vision. It had all but snapped upon taking the brunt of the sudden impact earlier.

Siriwan will be so pissed off, he mentally groaned. And if there's anything Phichit doesn't want to deal with at this crucial point in time, it's an angry Siriwan. With a near-exasperated sigh, he carefully sealed the fridge shut again. He had more important things to do than this.

  .

  "I'll never understand why Mother still wanted that thing around, though," Phichit complains to his audience of three. "Even if it was a wedding gift, it doesn't make sense to keep it if it's already broken."

"Sentimental value runs deep, my good man," Leo recites, now leaning onto Guanghong's shoulder. "Besides, if it ain't broke, don't fix it."

"They should still have gotten a new one," Phichit insists. "You gotta listen to reason."

The three laugh in unison. Knowing how the seemingly perpetually happy and cheerful Thai usually takes things like this in stride, they find it amusing how this single incident sticks out like a bad sore thumb, he is actually griping about it.

Still, though... "That's what I told you when you insisted on marrying your phone."

Phichit glares at Yuuri intensely, holding the bright green thing to his chest. "This is entirely different!" More laughter ensues.

  .

  Phichit ran back home halfway through his commute to the rink. How could he have forgotten his phone, of all things? He dashed to his room and unplugged the fully-charged gadget from the dock. He also packed the power bank and some extra hand towels while he was at it.

Exhausted from his run, he made his way to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator to get some water.

This time, the door completely fell off.

"What the fuck?!"

He completely forgot about the broken door -- rather, how he'd just broken it hours earlier.

What the actual fuck.

You had one job, Phichit thought to himself. One. Job.

If it weren't for his quick reflexes, he would have almost dropped the heavy thing. Once he regained his footing, he steadied the door with both hands and leaned it against the wall. Thankfully, none of the foodstuffs in it were damaged. (The eggs, especially. He wouldn't know what to do if those were broken.)

(He'd be dead, for starters. He just refused to admit it. Fortunately, no one was home to witness his blunder.)

Phichit called Celestino to inform that he was going to be late. He had a fridge door to fix.

But first, water -- since the good old box was already wide open and all. Hah.

"What the hell?!" a shrill voice screamed from behind him, causing him to do a sudden spit take and drop the bottle he was drinking from. Phichit didn't have time to be surprised at his ambusher, however, as the iced liquid splashed over the outlet to which the refrigerator was plugged, causing the thing to short-circuit and subsequently explode.

The kitchen was quiet as the machine made weird, whirring sounds before permanently dying down. Phichit found himself hanging on to his older sister, and she gripping tightly onto him, as well. They were frozen on the spot, both momentarily lost for words at what had just happened.

Well, that was underwhelming, was his first thought. Sister looks pretty in her white uniform, was the second.

Siriwan voiced the third for him. "Oh my god."

The lock turned from outside, and their mother announced her return to the house at large. Upon reaching the kitchen, she dropped the groceries onto the floor in shock.

  .

  "So you're buying a new fridge," Yuuri closes the story, using a very unusual deadpan tone that he usually reserves for when he's one-hundred percent done with everything. He even skipped the entire flailing-around-like-a-crazed-chicken part.

"Yeah, that's pretty much it," Phichit affirms, nodding away as if nothing had happened. Leo and Guanghong hold on to each other on the bed, both speechless with shock.

Yuuri saunters over to the desk, upon which several printed catalogues of refrigerator models were stacked. "So that's what these are for," he muses, pushing up his glasses as he reads the fine print. "Why are you looking these up, though?"

"I'm paying for part of it because it was me who broke the old one." Phichit flops back onto the bed, tapping away at his phone again. "At least I have a good story to tell the children someday."

Yuuri has nothing to say against that. He wonders how his friend will begin the tale when he does tell it. Knowing him, though, it would be somewhere along, "Once upon a time..."