#i just want people to not litter just give us accessible trash cans

[majflodder]

Fuck hostile architecture, I hate that stuff so much

[thedisablednaturalist]

My parents found out about the present I bought myself for my birthday. I worked my max hours to afford it. I had it shipped to my bfs house so they wouldn't see it. Apparently I missed a receipt that was hidden in the box. Idk how they got it anyway cause I put the box out with the trash/recycling. My mom was being so cruel about it and how I keep buying myself "lavish" gifts (most stuff I buy for fun is like $10-$50 max). I always plan my purchases and have never missed a credit card payment. Most of my money goes towards doctors visits, medication, car maintenance and gas, accessibility items/ergonomic stuff, cat food and litter, and hygiene. Recently I stopped most of my subscriptions save for a cheap minecraft server. The bulk of my pay goes into savings which have really grown since I got my raise. I also give my parents $400 in rent each month. I'm trying to save up for a recliner to replace my bed but I don't want to use the money I've already put away.

Like ok, maybe I'm not mr.frugal. maybe i sometimes buy more expensive things because they're more convenient (like already cut vegetables/fruit or preprepared meals) but like my hands fucking hurt and sometimes I don't have the spoons to feed myself. Maybe I fall prey to impulse purchases once in a while. Im learning and I'm trying to learn how to budget bc now I have to also pay for insurance until I can get on medicaid.

My mom acts like I don't care. She sees amazon packages come for me and think theyre all toys or expensive skincare or junk when its actually body wipes for when I cant shower/so i dont come back from the field to the office all stinky. Its a trash can I can keep on my bedshelf so I dont throw trash onto the floor instead. Its knee braces because my knees fucking suck. Once in a while Ill see something on sale that ive been wanting for a while and will grab it. And the most expensive skincare I use is $20 for a jar that lasts me 3 months. I have to keep my skin clear or ill pick and have scabs and blood all over my face again. I spend money on drag because it MAKES me money. Last time I got paid $100 from the venue and $50 in tips. One time I got paid $300 from the venue (i dont remember how much in tips).

Im trying my best. Im working with 3 government agencies rn to get a job and get health coverage. Im working my ass off at my job when i probably shouldnt be working (my mom laughed when I mentioned this). I'm constantly doing things to earn me money or to make life a bit less painful. Even streaming is a desperate attempt to make a career/side gig out of something I enjoy and doesn't make me flare up. I only watch shows when im with my bf or when im doing chores or working. I rarely play video games. When I flare I lay in bed and scroll Tumblr or play a mindless dress up game where I only have to move my thumb. I cry almost everyday. I cry on the way to work. I cry holding my cat in so much pain i cant move.

The only big frivilous purchases I've made is the present and a new graphics card (I haven't replaced my old one in a decade). The present cost $230 and the graphics card cost $800. Both of these I saved for. I might buy a nice skirt once in a while but thats pretty much it. I also spread out big purchases over time when I can.

Am I spoiled? Maybe. Maybe my parents are right and I'm a lazy spoiled kid who just makes excuses. But my pain is real, constant, and severe.

I have friends who's birthday presents consist of trips to fucking italy or the bahamas. Who complain when their parents drag them on yet another international vacation. Some are amazing people who are grateful and work their asses off. And some of them are a bit entitled. My mom said most 26 year olds are living on their own with jobs and I fucking laughed. The only 26 year olds with their own apartments especially in my area either have 5 roommates in a 2 bedroom shithole, got lucky and have a high paying tech job, their parents pulled strings to get them hired, or their parents are paying partly or fully for their apartment.

And when i tried to find an apartment? She discouraged me and told me id never be able to afford one (correct) but now im suddenly able to when it suits her argument? Ive been heavily job hunting for over a year and got ONE interview who ghosted me after two interviews. I make $2k MAX. Rent in my area is $1700-2500 for a freaking studio. The $1700 one doesn't let you see the apartment and gets snapped up immediately. And these are all apartments within a 2 hour radius. All the "affordable housing" is for people 55 and older.

Like I literally have no options. I can't move until I get a job in that area. I can't leave the country cause Im disabled and also thats fucking expensive. My bf makes less than me and even combined we couldn't afford a place.

Literally, I've never been suicidal before. Ive never struggled with that due to my fear of death. But all of this? Ive recently had suicidal thoughts and its fucking scary. Thoughts that killing myself would make it easier for everyone else. That it would be easier to just end it, that life will always be a living hell and i should just give up. And thats fucking scary! I shouldn't have those thoughts! But that's how bad it is.

I try to do what my therapist told me. I try to set boundaries. But setting a boundary means not eating dinner bc I leave when my parents yell at me. I try to think positively and ignore the pain. I probably walk an average of 1-2 miles a day. I try and try and try and it hurts so much. They can't be proud of me? For even big victories? Guilting me about graduation cause I took too long. Keeping a job for more than a year (its not a REAL job cause its hourly and doesnt have benefits).

Like what's the point? I've been fighting and fighting and most of the world wants to see me dead and gone anyway. I'm trying to work in a field that doesn't even consider people like me. If I cant work Ill just bring my boyfriend and my family down. Every step forward I manage to take I get dragged back 10.

Im so tired and ashamed and stressed and my fucking body hurts worse now because of the stress and i just dont want to wake up tomorrow.

[sarifinasnightmare]

Nighttime Stroll

Rating: For Everyone

Pairing: Sarah X Bucky

Author's Note: It's just fluffy.

Summary: Bucky and Sarah take a late night stroll through the French Quarter.

July 22- 28: Night Out on Town

“You know I’ve always wanted to do this.” Sarah said as she walked hand in hand with Bucky down the middle of the street on a humid New Orlean’s night.

“What? Walk the French Quarter?” Bucky guessed, they had spent nearly the whole evening in the area, visiting the museums, the shops, having dinner, then hitting the bars for drinks. Bucky couldn’t get drunk, but he still enjoyed the taste. Sarah, he discovered could hold her drink very well.

“Walking the French Quarter at night….late at night, when most things are closed and some of the tourists are gone.” She clarified. “Usually it’s too dangerous to be out like this, but you make me feel safe.” She squeezed his arm, leaning into him.

He took the moment to kiss her temple. “Thanks, babydoll.”

They walked around in comfortable silence avoiding the remaining promoters who pushed customers into their neon lit bars. There were still some people inside, drinking, laughing while jazz mingled with pop music. All the shops were closed, very few restaurants remained open, trash littered the floor and there were barriers where construction was underway.

Bucky glanced over at a house now converted into a bar. “I get that these businesses bring money, but it’s a shame that a lot of nice houses aren’t just…you know, homes.”

“French Quarter has always been an expensive place to live and after Katrina and gentrification it just got more expensive.” She lamented as she looked around them. “When I was little, I would dream about being a grand lady living in one of those fancy houses. Once when we were staying in one of these hotels with the lovely balconies and I sat out there and waved like a queen to the people below.” She elegantly lifted her arm to demonstrate.

He grinned. “Is it a coincidence that your room at home has access to the balcony?”

She gave him a sly look. “What can I say? I’m a romantic at heart.”

“You want me to climb up to it one day and knock on your window with a bunch of roses?”

“Oh, Bucky don’t tease.” She said even as she blushed at the very idea.

“I’m not teasing,” he assured her, “I would do it in a heartbeat.”

“You’re such a romantic.”

“Nothing wrong with romance.” Suddenly he picked her up, spun her around and waltzed with her in the middle of the street.

She gasped, then laughed, allowing him to take the lead. “You can waltz??”

“A little, so can you.” He said as they danced around.

“I remembered a little from my cotillion days.”

“Cotillion?”

“A party where all the girls wore pretty white dresses and danced with boys in tuxes in front of our community. It was supposed to celebrate our womanhood. Frankly we were just all excited to look fancy and meet some cute boys.”

“Did you meet a cute boy?” He asked.

“Mm-hm, my husband.” She revealed. “He planned it too, that devil. He was supposed to dance with Lisa, but he asked to be switched so he could dance with me.”

He laughed. “Smart guy. He’s a man of good taste.”

“Wasn’t he though?” She agreed. “I will always remember the first song we danced to.”

“Yeah?” He sighed. “Would be nice if we had some appropriate music for us.”

Suddenly a guitar player who had been closing up for the night spotted them and began to play.

“Huh, how about that.” He smiled, nodding at the gentleman who nodded back.

“Don’t you know French Quarter is full of magic?” Sarah grinned as they slowly danced around.

“Well consider me a believer.” He replied before giving her a kiss.

They danced until the music ended, then Bucky gave him a large tip in thanks. The guitar player was collecting his earnings and was putting his instrument back in its case when someone walked past him. The player gasped.

“Hey! Give it back!” He hollered, touching his back pocket before running after the thief who quickly sprinted.

“Stay here.” Bucky told Sarah before taking off after them both, moving with a quickness that was startling.

The guitar player stopped at a corner, shocked. “Wha- How does he run like that??”

Sarah smiled innocently. “He’s…gifted.”

“No shit!”

There was the faint sound of a scuffle that ended with something, or someone, getting shoved violently into a trash receptacle. A few minutes later Bucky jogged back with only a light sheen of sweat on his face. “Here you go. Sorry about that.”

“Nah man, it’s cool. Thanks!” He replied amazed, taking his wallet. Once Bucky turned back to Sarah, the man silently mouthed out, “Is he an Avenger??”

Sarah would’ve loved to be honest but subtly shook her head. “Done playing hero?” she said before they resumed their walk.

“Hey he played for us. It’s the least I could do.” Bucky shrugged. It seemed like no one else noticed what happened. The lampposts gave out their ember glow, the bars still had their neon lights and music still played on.

“You’re very sweet you know that?” she teased, giving him a small kiss on the cheek, then she winced a little. “I loved this night walk, but I think I’m done for the night. My dogs are barking.”

“Here,” He picked her up, carrying her bridal style as he walked with greater purpose back to their temporary abode.

Sarah held onto him. “I didn’t imply that you carry me the rest of the way, you know.”

“I know, but I rather like it.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned over. “My hero.”

Bucky said nothing just smiled and walked them home, leaving the magic of the French Quarter behind.

[lestcat-de-lioncourt]

I see all these pro only indoor cat owners be like “it’s abuse to let your cat outside” but look at their cats and they literally are starved/so badly behaved as if they’ve never had much time put into teaching them anything/depressed bc they’re not getting the attention they need at the same time as having the house to themselves/they don’t know much about how cats work/how to otherwise look after cats/the cats are filthy/their beds are trashed and not replaced much/steal food of their plates when they should already know not to do this/emotionally disconnected and withdrawn (within how they feel things)/get attacked by their kids and have nowhere to go when stressed, etc. if you wish you raise a cat indoors, LOOK AFTER THEM AND KIT YOUR HOUSE OUT CORRECTLY. Don’t just keep them indoors and pick them up randomly when You Need Them For A Hug, but don’t concern yourself with much else aside from feeding a litter tray changing as there’s way more to it than that. Get a doll if you want that. Or a therapist. You must give them the ability to thrive if your place will solely be their world, because living indoors does remove some things like if when starved, yeah they can catch something if necessary and not die, or they can find water if their bowls have been left dry and no access to anything.

Most people I know with a cat have absolutely no clue that yeah they can be taught things, boundaries, skills, tricks, knowledge, more commands than their name and pshpshjpshjspss here kitty. A lot of people just get them and be like ye I can cuddle this and that’s it, and never try get down on their level and work with the pet like the individual living creature that the pet is.

It’s the ownership thing, but it’s the treatment of removing freedom but not giving anything in return except for the bare minimum, or just used for personal whims, that thing a lot of humans tend to do.

[sierraraeck]

The Better Kisser

BAU x Bi!Fem!Reader

Emily x Bi!Fem!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: After finding out that you haven’t had very many kissing experiences, the team realizes you’re the perfect candidate to judge who the best kisser on the team is.

Category: Fluff

Warnings: As you may have guessed, lots of kissing.

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: Just a little something that popped into my head that I just needed to write. This is technically an AU where the members of the team are Hotch, Rossi, Spencer, Penelope, Derek, Emily, JJ, Luke, and Tara. Everyone is single.

It was true. You hadn’t kissed very many people. You decided long ago that it wasn’t really in the cards for you, dating and kissing and relationships, that is, so yeah. You weren’t what one would call an ‘experienced kisser.’ Your friends had teased you for it, but you’d always shrugged it off. It wasn’t something to be ashamed of.

You’d never thought it’d be something to be grateful for either, until tonight.

It’d been a long, hard case, and everyone was dying to get out of the stupid office, and away from those stupid files, so that you could all finally relax, maybe even have some fun. You’d only been with the team for about three months, and it was like an entire whirlwind throwing you this way and that. You also hadn’t gotten to know the team too well either, considering how busy you all constantly were. Your first week on the job, they went out for drinks after a case, but you were so exhausted that you left after the first round.

There hadn’t been time, or energy, since then for the team to spend quality, relaxed time together. That’s why tonight was extra exciting.

“You’re telling me that throughout all of highschool, all of college, you haven’t kissed more than two people?” Derek asked incredulously. You couldn’t fully remember how you’d all gotten onto the subject, except that you had. You were sitting on Garcia’s squishy couch, littered with colorful pillows and all sorts of stuffed animals. Garcia had decided that instead of going out to a bar, you were all going to go over to her place, minus Hotch and Rossi who tapped out early.

You shrugged. “Nope. I had one boyfriend and one drunk kiss, both of which were bad experiences for me. I’ve kind of avoided all of that since then.” You explained, “Plus, when would I have time for that? Between my college studies and getting into the FBI, then BAU, I didn’t really have free time.”

“I mean, sure, I guess,” Derek continued, “but come one. There had to be guys falling at your feet!”

You laughed. “Not all of us have that kind of draw, Derek.” He nudged you, and you nudged him back with a wink.

He was right, though. You were stunning. Even when you just put your hair up and wore sweatpants, there was just something about you. You would probably look good in a trash bag. But men were not just falling at your feet. Even if they were, you wouldn’t notice, putting all of your energy into chasing your dreams instead. You thought that was a very reasonable, and responsible, thing of you to do.

Plus, you’d done the whole boyfriend thing, and weren’t really interested in trying it again. Well, not as interested as you were in trying the whole girlfriend thing. And your first day on the job, a certain badass brunette caught your eye, and was even the first one to make you really feel like part of the team. You were finding it harder and harder to resist her pull.

“Yeah Derek,” JJ chimed in, drawing your attention back to the conversation, “Not all of us can rack up eight phone numbers and five make out sessions in one night.”

“What can I say?” Derek beamed, pride shining in his eyes. “I’m a great kisser.” Emily snorted. When Derek glared at her, she pressed her lips together and looked down. “What?”

“Nothing,” Emily sang, shaking her head with an air of mischief.

“No seriously, what?”

“It’s just that if you read girls half as well as you claim to, you might wonder if that’s always the case.” Derek’s jaw hung open, and Emily smirked at him with unabashed confidence. You stared at her and her piercing eyes, and you couldn’t help but admire how sexy she was when she was confident, smug even.

“Wow, you’re gonna go there?” Derek asked, feigning hurt disbelief, “And how would you know that?”

Again, Emily shrugged and nonchalantly stated, “Because I know how women act when they kiss me. And trust me. They’re actually enjoying themselves.”

Some ‘ooh’s radiated throughout the room, and based on the look Penelope had plastered to her face, things were about to get good.

You watched in amusement as Derek sat up a little straighter, “Is that a challenge?”

“If you want it to be.” Emily’s brows shot up.

“Alright, you’re on,” Derek nodded, determination radiating off of him.

“Well, I don’t know how strong either of your games are,” Luke spoke up, glancing quickly over at Spencer who was just observing the whole encounter, “but I think I could take on both of you.”

“No you could not,” Tara sneered from beside him.

“And you could?” Luke challenged.

Setting her glass down, Tara replied, “Yes.”

You giggled at the thought of the four of them having a kiss-off, just imagining how utterly chaotic that would be due to all of their extraordinarily competitive natures.

“Oh my god, this is going to be so fun!” Penelope squealed. “Now we just have to figure out who’s going to judge!”

“We can’t really use one of us because some people might be biased or recognize the kisser,” Emily casually stated. It took a moment for you to realize what she’d just admitted to. Who on the team has kissed before? But before you could really start thinking about it, you noticed that everyone’s gaze had slowly turned to you.

“What is happening right now?” you questioned, looked between them.

The five of them exchanged excited, knowing looks before training their attention back on you. Then you got it. “Are you serious?”

“You’re the only one who hasn’t kissed one of us!” Derek explained, as if it were obvious.

“You mean…” you trailed off, but again couldn’t complete the thought before someone interrupted.

“Come on, it’ll be fun!” Penelope promised. “And you seem like you’d be a very neutral judge.”

“Not to mention,” Tara added, “You’re a pretty blank slate since you haven’t really kissed anyone.”

“Don’t worry though, we’ll show you a good time,” Derek assured with a wink.

Heads nodded. You were a bit worried that there would be some hurt feelings by the end of this, but they were all adults, and the appeal to kiss all of them, along with their eager faces, became enough to convince you to say yes.

“Yes!” Derek exclaimed. He looked pointedly at Emily, “It is so on.”

She just rolled her eyes. “Pen, do you have a blindfold?”

“A what?” you asked.

“Well we can’t have you getting biased on us. This has to be strictly about kissing.” Hearing her explain it with such reason hampered your growing nerves a bit. Like you’d said, you hadn’t kissed very many people and you were worried how much better they were going to be at it than you.

You reminded yourself that this was more about them than you, and tried to use that to calm yourself down. You were about to be kissed by some of the most attractive people you’d met. This was definitely not a bad place to be.

While Penelope rummaged through her belongings to get a makeshift blindfold, Luke convinced Spencer to join and JJ decided to participate.

Pretty soon, they had you seated in a chair, another one across from you, waiting for whoever was going to go first, while Emily explained some ground rules. “We are going to go in rounds. We will each kiss her and then after every round, Y/N will eliminate one of us based on the number in the round we kissed her so she doesn’t know who it is. No touching. You can’t use your hands in any way, this has to purely be about the kiss. And kiss however you normally would, no matter what that means for you.”

“No hands?” Spencer questioned. You were still surprised that he’d agreed to join, let alone ask a question like that. Luke gave him an odd look from behind while Emily confirmed the rule.

“Your hands might give away who you are, and again, this is just about the kiss.”

“Alright, alright, let’s just get started,” Derek complained, as Penelope tied the blindfold behind your head.

Now that you couldn’t see, you relied on your hearing to figure out what was happening. You heard some shuffling and disgruntled whispering, then you heard the chair across from you slide across the floor toward you. You waited anxiously as the person leaned in and pressed their lips to yours.

Their lips were plush and soft, but the kiss seemed a little too forced. It was a bit excited and you could feel their smile as they started pulling away. It was a pretty good kiss, definitely better than your previous two, despite the fact that it only lasted a few seconds. You couldn’t help but try and guess who it was, thinking it was either Penelope or Tara.

The next person who sat down completely blew the person before them out of the water. It was a much longer kiss and the person even swiped their tongue across your bottom lip for entry. You weren’t really thinking as you gave them access, the heat in your body starting to rise. You just hoped that your face wasn’t giving any of that heat away, so you were almost grateful that the person pulled away.

There was a bout of silence, which made you feel a little awkward, but soon enough, you heard the cushion squish down across from you. Their knee knocked yours, as you assumed they crossed their legs. Being a profiler, you were very used to picking up on body language with your eyes, making it kind of fun to try and pick up those same behavioral cues with all of your other senses. This person, you could tell, was very hesitant. You couldn’t say you were surprised when the person really only pecked you on the lips.

Number four in the line up started out pretty good, but you felt them start shaking or something halfway through. You quickly realized that they were laughing and you pulled back. You couldn’t help but smile when you asked, “Why are you laughing?”

Up until then, they had laughed pretty silently, but once you called them out, they just full out chuckled. “I’m sorry!” Tara unapologetically said through more laughs. “I couldn’t help it. I blame Luke.”

You laughed with her as you playfully shook your head. “You were doing so well up until then!”

“I know!” she agreed.

“I guess this means you’re out?” you half questioned.

Tara gave an over dramatic sigh, but you could hear the smile in her voice as she stated, “I guess so.” As she walked away, Luke gave a small ‘ow,’ and you assumed she’d hit him. You wondered what about this was Luke’s fault? Had he said something to her?

Either way, someone took her spot across from you. They wasted no time leaning in and putting their lips on yours. The kiss started out slow and gentle, like they were easing you into it. But gradually, as you both became more used to the other, it picked up pace, your mouths starting to move in sync. It felt like all of their energy was focused on you and exploring your mouth with their tongue. It was by far the most passionate kiss you’d experienced, and you tried to hide the pout from your face as they pulled back, chasing their lips for only a second before remembering there was an audience, and a competition.

Person number six was … good. You couldn’t really describe it. They used, what now seemed to you to be, a medium amount of tongue, for a medium amount of time. It was a good kiss, you weren’t saying it wasn’t, it just didn’t have any quirk or something unique that stood out. It was just … good. You knew Tara was out, so you tried to guess who that person could be. You thought maybe JJ, or possibly Luke, but you couldn’t be sure.

The final person who kissed you was intense. They had plump, captivating lips, but the way they kissed verged on overwhelming. They were also a little sloppy in their movements, and it was like you could tell they weren’t fully invested. Distracted, maybe? Again, not bad, but nothing like some of the other kissers.

The air was hot and heavy as Emily spoke up. “Okay, we’ve all gone. You know Tara is out, she was number four, so who else from this round would you eliminate?”

You pretended to think about it, even though it actually wasn’t that hard to pick. “I think it was person number three.” The person who just sort of pecked me, you thought, but didn’t say.

The players were now down to five, and they went in the same order as they had before, minus person number three, who you guessed was Spencer, and Tara.

This round made you even more confused about who was who than the round before. The excited one you guessed was either Luke or Penelope, the intimate one you thought was Derek, the passionate one you thought was either Luke or Emily, the average one you thought was JJ, and the sloppy, intense one you had no idea about.

By the end of that round, you eliminated person number one, the overly excited, verging on too hard kisser.

The next round was a no brainer. The intimate kisser, Derek you thought, upped his game. He kissed you for longer, used a bit more tongue, but was still somehow gentle. If you thought he’d upped his game, you weren’t prepared for person number two. They also upped their game, keeping your mouths molded together for longer than before, something you were more than happy about. You couldn’t quite place exactly what it was about their kiss, maybe that it seemed so perfectly balanced, incorporated the perfect amount of everything, or something else, but they were absolutely magnetic. It sent electric waves through your body, making you feel a little tingly. You felt sort of bad for the average kisser, most likely JJ, because they had to follow that up. And finally the sloppy kisser, who you still couldn’t place. They didn’t up their game at all. If anything, they felt more distracted by the minute, and pulled away earlier than the rest.

“Person number four,” you stated when Tara asked who was getting eliminated.

It was now down to three; the intimate kisser, you predicted Derek, the passionate kisser, either Luke or Emily, and the average kisser, probably JJ.

There was some shuffling, a faint whispering, a small ‘ow,’ and then Tara spoke up again. “Now that there are only three left, as long as you are okay with it, they want to use their hands.”

You tried to downplay the excitement you were feeling with this new rule, but you were sure their trained ears could hear it in the way you said, “Yes, that’s good with me.”

The seat across from you suddenly became occupied, but before anything could happen, Tara quickly jumped in. “Wait. Y/N, you can’t use your hands.” When you pouted a little, she explained, “Well if you did, you’d definitely know who is who, so…”

You sighed, but agreed, waiting in anticipation for the person across from you to touch you.

It started soft, their long fingers brushing over your cheeks as they leaned in. Soon enough, though, the entirety of their hands were firmly cupping your face and pulling you ridiculously close, close enough to feel some of their body heat. It was intimate, and again made you feel like the most important person to whoever those lips and hands belonged to. You rubbed your thumb into your palm, wanting nothing more than to reach out and touch them, but you knew you couldn’t. Your sole focus was on them, them on you, and you had to say it was one of the best kisses of the night.

That person made you feel like the most important person in the world, but the next person kissed you like you were the only person in the world. They started out by tucking your hair behind your ear, then slowly sliding their fingers back into the loose strands. As they started to kiss you, they moved their other hand behind your head, cradling the back of your neck. The person before them had captured your focus, but this person erased any thoughts your mind was capable of forming. You couldn’t think about anything other than the way their tongue moved against yours, and the shiver they sent down your spine as one of their hands traveled the length of it, coming to rest just above your hip, strong, confident fingers pulling you closer. It was a moment you never wanted to end, and one that left you in a cold shock when it eventually did.

You almost didn’t even want the last person to kiss you because of how you knew it would never come close to what you’d just experienced, but a competition was a competition. The third person kissed you similarly to how they’d done before, good but nothing special, their hands resting comfortably on your hips.

When it was all over, you asked, “Can I take off the blindfold now? I know who the winner is.”

“Sure, but announce who first,” Tara suggested.

“Okay,” you agreed. “The third person got third, the first person got second, and the second person was the winner. Can I take the blindfold off now?” you asked again. You were eager to find out who was who. When you didn’t get an immediate response warning you not to, you stood up and quickly ripped it off to quite the amusing sight. Spencer looked as bright as a cherry, Penelope looked shocked but proud, Tara was smirking, Luke’s eyes were the size of beach balls, JJ looked indifferent, Emily was smirking, and Derek looked like he’d just been shot. “So are you going to tell me who was who?”

Without answering, Emily took two large strides toward you and placed her lips back on yours. One of her hands slid back into your hair while the other rested above your waist, and you smiled into the kiss. Of course it was you, you thought. When she pulled away, you were both smiling like idiots, and she gave you a single eyebrow raise as you both turned to look at Derek.

“I got third?” he asked, still in a state of bewilderment.

“What?” you asked, just as shocked as he was. “I thought you got second.”

Emily snorted. “You thought Spencer was Derek?”

What?! You spun to face Spencer, the person you were sure got out the first round, and he was still blushing like he’d been out in the sun for far too long. “You took second?” He nodded nervously. You beamed at him, causing him to return a shy smile, then look down at his fiddling hands. “You’re a really good kisser,” you complimented.

Derek repeated, “I took third? Emily, I guess I kinda get,” she rolled her eyes at that, “but Pretty Boy?”

You shrugged, and Luke jumped in, though not nearly as harsh as Derek had been. “Yeah, I took fourth, but Spencer got second?”

You offered him a cheeky smile, remembering how distracted he felt while kissing you, and the not-so-subtle glances he constantly made at Spencer all the time. You took the opportunity to encourage whatever was going on there. “He did. Like I said, he’s a good kisser. Very intimate, like I was the only one on his mind. You should try kissing him sometime. Might help you feel less distracted.” You winked and Spencer looked like he wanted to evaporate. Luke, on the other hand, was just staring at Spencer, and you could see the gears spinning in his head. He finally mumbled a ‘what the hell’ before pulling Spencer to him by the back of his neck. Spencer seemed immediately surprised, but recovered quite quickly, no hesitation to his movements after the initial shock. They kissed each other probably exactly how they’d just kissed you, Spencer’s hands cupping Luke’s face, Luke’s hands resting on the back of Spencer’s neck and lower back. Although, you’d have to say that Luke looked a bit more focused than he’d been with you. You laughed while some of the other members hooted. This was something that’d been a long time coming.

When they pulled away, Luke nodded. “Y/N, I definitely agree with you.”

Spencer smiled, and playfully nudged Luke as he said, “Y/N, I also agree with you.”

“Hey!” Luke exclaimed, but he was smiling the brightest he had in a while.

Derek was still a mess, not enjoying the moment as much as he usually would’ve, and asked, “What did I do wrong?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you assured, “You’re a good kisser, but there’s just nothing too special about it. It’s kinda just…”

Emily and Derek looked at you expectantly before Emily got it. “Wait. Are you calling him average?”

She looked way too excited for the occasion, but she was right. He was just kinda average. You nonchalantly admitted, “I guess.”

Derek let his hands fall to his sides with a slap, his mouth still hanging open. Emily’s lips curled up into a sly smile as she placed a hand on Derek’s shoulder. “It’s okay. Not everyone can be as good as me.” He shrugged her hand off his shoulder, and she held out her hand. Derek reached into his back pocket producing his wallet, and grudgingly slapped a crumpled $20 into her open palm. You gawked at them, not realizing that they’d placed a bet on their skills.

Emily returned to your side, closer than she’d really ever stood to you before, and gave you a smile that seemed on the shyer side for her, biting her lip as she peered at you through her lashes. You mirrored her shy smile, pressing your lips together as heat quickly spread to your cheeks. You turned back to the rest of the conversation that demanded your attention, people wanting to know why you eliminated them. But you couldn’t help glancing over at Emily every now and then, and couldn’t hide your joy when you saw that she was gazing back.

Who knows? Maybe that night was going to be the start of two great relationships in the BAU.

@90spumkin

[spookybreadstick]

Hello, bby!!! How are you? Hope you’re well ❤️❤️💙

I was wondering if you could write a little bit about the jobs Slenderman tells proxies to do? - dancing parrot🐦🎶

Hello!! I’m doing the best I can at the moment, we’re getting better bit by bit! 

I already sort of answered this here, but it’s not on my masterlist for some reason? Odd because I remembered writing it and I was pretty sure I had it on there, but it’s not. I’ll have to fix that when I update my masterlist in a few days. 

Anyway, I can give you a little more insight into what jobs Slenderman has them do! 

⚠️ TW for some (mildly) graphic content at the end.... ⚠️

There are five types of jobs that the proxies do.... 

Cleaning/basic chores

This involves basic run-of-the-mill tasks that Slender doesn’t want to do, to be honest. He usually lets the boys off pretty easily, saving the hard cleaning and other household chores for any punishments that may need to be doled out (ex: really scrubbing the floors/baseboards/hallways/walls, ironing clothes, cleaning out the gutter, landscaping the enormous yard, and other various difficult chores). The everyday/more common chores would include...

Doing the dishes 

Doing the laundry (some members do their own, but some prefer to use the communal laundry service) 

Vacuuming (they are often crumbs everywhere)  

Dusting

Meal planning/prepping (when you live with so many people these are the kind of things you need to think about) 

Cooking (this only applies to Hoodie and sometimes Masky, and it’s only when Slender is too busy to cook) 

Babysitting Sally sometimes (only applies to Hoodie and Masky)

Polishing Silverware (yes, he likes the silverware to be neatly polished)

Picking up after the other (messy) members of the mansion

Errands 

Slender may be able to do many things, but he is unable to go to the grocery store himself. This isn’t a problem for him, as eirfindur don’t eat actual food, but the other members of the mansion do require actual food and you can’t get Pringles or Pop-Tarts out in the woods. So, the proxies serve to access things in town that Slender can’t, including... 

Grocery stores

Department stores (BEN might want a new game, LJ may have broken a lamp again, etc)

Meeting with human clients (see the “missions” section for more detail)

On rare occasions, they may need to visit a clothing store if there is something specific in mind, otherwise they just consult Trender. Running errands as a whole is considered a treat for the proxies, and they often make a little day out of it. 

Patrol

This is one of the main reasons why Slender has proxies in the first place: for protection. This is what the proxies spend the majority of their days doing, and its really their most important job in Slender’s mind. While “on patrol,” they.. 

Scout around the forest for anything that looks out of the ordinary, and be sure to report to Slender if something looks very wrong

Keep their eyes out for any humans that wander through and make mental notes of anyone who looks a little too suspicious

Cause distractions, redirect, or try to scare humans off the path if they get uncomfortably close to something they shouldn’t

Clean up various trash and litter as needed

Follow anyone who is overly suspicious home and investigate their intentions. 

Missions 

This is the other big reason why Slender has proxies. There are also four kinds of missions: Scheduled Missions, Contracted Missions, Scouting Missions, and Emergency Missions. 

Scheduled Missions - These are the missions that Slender has to take his time to research and plan out. They often require advance planning and strategy. Luckily these missions don’t occur too often, but it’s often enough. The purpose of these missions is to kill the person that Slender has decided poses too much of a risk to the safety of the woods. 

Contracted Missions - These missions are the results of deals that Slender has agreed to. He operates under the name “Richard Harrison” and is something of a modern day mob boss. The proxies meet up with his human clients while Slender deals with other entities/creatures personally. The proxies are the ones who have to kill whoever they have been hired to take out.  

Scouting Missions - The missions that occur most often, alongside contracted missions. These are missions that prepare for a scheduled or contracted mission. These involve stalking, stake-outs, and pre-planning a murder. It doesn’t always end like this however. If Slender decides that the person is harmless (if they were a safety concern) or if for some reason Slender has to back out of the deal (if they were a potential contracted killing), then that’s simply the end of it. It’s all about checking the scene out and seeing what they’re dealing with first before any actual action is taken. 

Emergency Missions - These are rare, but sometimes it has to happen. When a human is posing too much of a threat, they need to be dealt with. It’s up to the proxies to decide when enough is enough, and they’ll have to take it up with Slender after the fact. It’s a tough balancing act, because if they don’t act and the person gets away with doing too much damage/knowing too much information then they have to face the consequences, but if they do act when it’s not necessary then they have to face those consequences.  

“Mopping the Basement” 

This is the absolute worst part of the job, and every proxy hates it equally. Nobody likes to do this, but the fact of the matter is that it needs to get done. (TW!!!) This phrase actually refers to the aftermath of a proxy kill. To avoid saying anything really unpleasant (especially with Sally running around), they use this phrase and everyone just knows what it means. The aftermath of a kill usually involves... 

Bringing the body to a different location according to Slender’s wishes (sometimes they leave it, sometimes they bury it elsewhere, but they often have to bring it to the basement of the mansion) 

If it’s in the mansion then that means it needs to be dismantled and disposed of, through various means. 

Usually the kidneys are removed and stored for EJ. 

If Slender gives permission to do so, they might store an entire body away in a cooler for EJ (although this is often not the case, since the body is most likely tainted from a bullet or something)

Getting rid of any incriminating evidence (gloves, disposable tools, personal belongings of the victim)

Debriefing with Slender (discussing what happened, what protocol was followed, any issues, is there any security threats, was everything properly handled and disposed of, etc) 

So there you have it! The jobs of the proxies (not including training, which is sort of separate from the rest of the workload). Hopefully this answered your question and is useful for future reference on my blog :) 

[angst-fairygodmother]

Puppy Love (A Light Fingers Moment In Between)

A/N: Sometimes I say words, and other people say words, and stuff happens. Part of me wants to say AU because it would be easier, but I love making things More Difficult on Purpose.  Word Count: 2333 Rating: G(eneral Audience)

You tapped Diego on the shoulder, nodding your head in the direction of the faint clatter you’d heard. 

The pair of you had popped in to stop a home invasion, but one of the perps had taken off with a priceless family heirloom, and you’d agreed to give chase. Unfortunately, he had a head start and you had lost him in the warren of a crowded parking garage. 

Diego pressed a finger to his lips and nodded, gesturing with his free hand for you to circle around while he approached from the front to draw attention.

You met his eyes for a brief moment, lower lip worrying between your teeth. You gave his arm a brief squeeze before nodding and setting off. No matter how long you’d been doing this, you worried about him when his plans worked out like this, with him picking fights so you could have the element of surprise. As you moved, quick and quiet, something felt wrong about the situation. Hesitantly, you fingered the knife that Diego had insisted you started carrying on these jobs, not pulling it out yet, but reassuring yourself that it was there and easily accessible. 

There was another scuffling sound and a soft whine, one that didn’t sound human. You picked up your pace now, running in the direction of the noises. There, huddled in the corner of the garage, caught and tugging on the corner of a dumpster, was a small, shivering dog. 

“Hi there,” you said softly, sinking low and holding your hand out as you crept closer to the frightened creature. 

You heard pounding footsteps behind you as Diego ran up, the sound making the dog yelp and try to cower more.

“Shh, shh,” you hummed, shifting to sit cross-legged in front of it, blocking it’s view of Diego, and giving you a more steady position to hold the little creature still while you unhooked it’s collar from the sharp, bent edge of the trash.

Once freed, you expected it to squirm in your arms or try to run, but instead, it stayed, pressed lightly against your leg, shivering. It was covered in so much mud you could hardly tell it was meant to be white and stank horribly (or maybe that was the bins), but you were pretty sure someone would be missing it. 

“Think you can find our bad guy on your own?” you murmured as Diego peered over your shoulder. “I don’t want to abandon this little one to its own devices.”

He couldn’t help chuckling. “Yeah, I got it. Meet you back here?”

“I’m not waiting for you by the dumpsters. I’ll meet you by the entrance.” 

~

After returning the expensive and hideous brooch to the family, and turning the would-be-burglars over to the cops, you and Diego made your way home, the little dog wrapped in a towel in your arms. The family hadn’t ever seen it around before, and the tag had the dog’s name, “Penny,” but no name or address of an owner.

“It’s alright Penny,” you told her as you walked. “We’ll get you cleaned up, take some nice pictures and put up flyers. I’m sure someone’s missing you and will be excited to have you home again soon.”

“Why don’t we just take it to the shelter?” Diego asked gruffly, trying to hide how cute he thought Penny was.

“Shelters are overcrowded and understaffed. They have a hard time caring for the dogs that need homes, let alone the ones that just got lost and get brought to them. Besides, I...want to make sure her family gets her back, and that’s easier to do if we make the handoff.”

Diego shook his head, slightly exasperated. “Fine. But if it takes more than a few days--”

“We’ll discuss that only if we have to.” You shifted the dog so that you would have a free hand and bopped Diego’s nose teasingly. “Don’t be a grump.”

He gaped at you. “For that, I’m not helping you wash it.”

“Of course you’re not, baby. You’re going out to buy kibble and a leash.” You smiled winningly at him.

~

Penny was with you for just over a week before you got a call during dinner one night. The man on the other end of the line said that he had seen your flyers and was sure that the dog you found belonged to his elderly mother. She had been worried sick when the dog slipped out, but hadn’t been able to follow it, and because of his work, he hadn’t been able to put out ‘missing’ posters. You told him you were glad he called and asked if he had evidence the dog was his or his mother’s. He told you he’d bring a picture of the two of them together, and arranged to meet you at Griddy’s Doughnuts the next morning. 

During the time she was there, Penny settled in quite well with you and Diego, excited when either of you left and came back, quite happy to sit on your laps while you watched tv or read at night, curling up at the foot of the bed when you went to sleep. She and Diego in particular, for all his protests, seemed inseparable. For all his protests at first, he seemed to enjoy all of her antics, and slipped her food off his plate when she gave him big sad eyes and he thought you weren’t paying attention. When you told him that her owner had finally called, he hid a frown behind a cough.

“Diego,” you sighed, seeing his face fall anyway. “You knew we couldn’t keep her…”

You were just as sad as he was, if you were being honest. You had never really imagined yourself a dog person, the idea of having a pet so far off your radar as to be unfathomable. But Penny had slotted into your lives like a missing piece, and as glad as you were to return her, safe and happy, to her home and the people that loved her, you and Diego loved her too.

“I know,” he said softly. “Just. It’ll be weird once she’s gone.”

You bit your lip, considering the words that bubbled up your throat before letting them fall from your tongue, nearly as impulsive as your marriage proposal.

“Ya know...we could...get a dog of our own?” you shrugged, trying to play off the idea as a casual thought.

~

It was hard not to be overwhelmed by the smell and sound within the shelter’s kennel area, over two dozen dogs baying, barking, and bouncing on the chain-link fencing as the pair of you were led through to an open area where you could do some meet and greets. 

Nervously you sat on the bench, fingers laced with Diego’s and running your thumb back and forth over his knuckles. 

“Hey,” he said, leaning in to whisper in your ear. “Talk to me.”

You shrugged, biting your lip. “I dunno. This just feels big, suddenly. And what if we can’t find one that likes both of us, or what if we fuck it up. I’ve never...taken care of another living thing before. Not by myself.”

“You take care of me all the time,” he said, tugging you into a hug. “And you won’t be alone. We’re in this together remember?”

Your smile was watery but genuine as you returned the hug, burying your face against his neck.

“How did I ever do shit without you?” you murmured, backing away but not fully letting go.

He didn’t have a chance to respond with more than a squeeze of your joined hands as Martin returned with the first dog. 

“I thought we’d start with some one-on-one interactions with a few dogs I think would be a good fit based on what you told me, and then we’ll see who clicks and you can have some time to play with the top two or three, pick from there.”

You nodded, holding your hand, palm out, toward the black lab tugging at the leash he held. He introduced her as Sheila, and while she seemed friendly, your heart wasn’t in it. The same feeling continued through several other perfectly nice dogs, and though you were both tempted by a roly-poly border collie puppy and by a sweet but very lazy bulldog, as soon as the handler had left the room with them, you’d looked at each other and known it wasn’t right. 

“Can we...maybe, just walk through the kennels and see if something I don’t know...calls to us?” you asked hesitantly after about the eighth dog you felt no real connection with. 

“Oh!” the man looked surprised you had even suggested it and took a long moment to process the request. “Sure, we can do that.”

Wrapping his arm around your shoulder, Diego pulled you against his side as the pair of you followed Martin back into the kennels.

“You know we don’t have to find a dog today, right?” he asked softly, sensing your continued nerves. “If nothing here works out, we’ll keep looking.”

“I know,” you sighed. “I just…got really excited, and now I feel like we failed or something.”

“Well, we haven’t yet.”

Suddenly, you stopped short, jerking Diego along with you, so quickly that your guide didn’t even notice. Staring up at you, his black fur almost lost in shadow but for his white bib, the boxer gave you the biggest, saddest eyes you had ever seen. Crouching down, you tentatively reached your hand outward, pressing it against the chainlink.

“Hi…” you cooed as he edged forward, crawling on his belly until he could sniff and then attempt to lick your fingers from the other side. 

Diego mirrored your stance, kneeling in front of the kennel door, and by the time Martin realized you were no longer behind him and doubled back, the pair of you were enraptured and the dog was no longer cowering, instead bouncing and pawing at the fence to try and get to you, tongue lolling out of his mouth and slobbering on as much of you as he could reach. 

“Oh,” he said, sounding almost disappointed. “You met Duncan…trust me, you don’t want him.”

“What?” you asked, whipping your head around to look at the man. “Why not?”

“He was born here, runt of the litter so for a while no one wanted him. Now he’s almost two and he’s ended up back here from four homes already. Can’t figure out why, but he just doesn’t work out.”

“Well there must be something going on,” you argued. “Or else that wouldn’t be true right?”

Martin shrugged. “I guess. But it ain’t my place. I just know the poor bastard’s probably going to live his whole life in there.”

“No,” Diego said, turning to you and smiling when you gave him a brief nod. “Because we’ll take him.”

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea. And it seems cruel to give him false hope a fifth time.”

“It won’t be false. We won’t give up on him,” you insisted. “I understand wanting to protect him, and us, but please. Just...trust us.”

“You’re sure there’s not another dog you want instead?”

“No,” Diego said firmly. “We want Duncan.”

At the sound of his name from Diego’s mouth, his ears perked up and he sat down patiently, expectantly almost.  

We know a thing or two about loving the unloved, you wanted to say, this was fate you wanted to argue. But how could you even begin?

“Let’s go take care of the paperwork and...see what my boss says.”

~

Later that night, as you rested your head against Diego’s chest on the couch, not really watching the movie on the tv, you found yourself anxiously drumming your fingers on his knee.

“Y/N,” he said knowingly, catching and stilling your hand, rubbing his thumb soothingly over your knuckles.

“Do you think they’ll approve us?” you asked, voicing the question on both your minds.

“I don’t know. We just have to wait,” he chuckled, shaking his head as you opened your mouth to interrupt, “patiently. And see what happens. Hope it’ll work out.”

You groaned. “Why do you have to be right all the time?”

“It’s a carefully honed talent.”

~

Diego’s keys jingled in the doorknob and you held your breath, praying that your companion would stay quiet.

“Just another minute boy,” you muttered. 

As soon as you heard the door shut behind your husband, you let go of Duncan’s collar and he bounded over, his entire body wriggling along with his stubby tail. Diego swore, startled by the dog’s sudden appearance from around the corner, and you couldn’t help laughing as you followed, more sedately behind.

“Wha—” Diego said, kneeling to ruffle Duncan’s ears, leaning away as his lolling tongue tried to lick his newly accessible face. 

“You didn’t steal him did you?” he asked, teasing smile lighting his features.

“I am hurt and offended that you would even suggest such a thing,” you said dramatically, a hand pressed to your chest for effect. “This was completely legitimate, and Duncan is now our dog. Or technically my dog, until you go sign your copy of the adoption contract tomorrow morning.”

“That’s...we have a dog…” he breathed, shock settling over him. 

“Diego, are you crying?” you asked gently, concern overriding your amusement. 

He was silent and you moved to his side, sitting down, next to your husband and dog and wrapping an arm around each of them.

“They’re happy tears right?” you asked, feeling some of your own building as it suddenly struck you that this right here was a family, a happy family, and all your own. 

“The happiest,” he murmured, managing a quick kiss to your temple just before the moment was broken by Duncan licking a long stripe up his cheek and flopping over onto your laps for a belly rub, sending you both into a fit of laughter.

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

End Note: Is a studio apartment an appropriate space for a boxer? Should inexperienced owners adopt a dog that the shelter thinks is a “problem” dog? Probably not, as a rule. But individual dogs have individual needs, they’re active-lifestyle adults, we’ll assume there’s a dog park nearby, and also it’s fiction and I think it’s cute, so...

[kookicat]

The Price of Peace pt2

So I wrote a second part to this fic- 

Full thing is here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28907364/chapters/71064504

The Morning After

 He wakes slowly, swimming up from sleep like he’s climbing through slowly setting cement. It clings to him, and if he wasn’t in dire need of a piss and a drink, he’d give in, let it pull him back under because he hurts all over. He bites back a groan and focuses on his breathing, falling into the old exercises easily, until some of the pain eases. His face is the worst, the hairline fracture in his cheek throbbing like a bad tooth. In fact, it’s making the entire side of his face hurt and he lifts a shaky hand, feeling the heat and swelling and realises belatedly he should have iced it before he passed out. They have instant ice packs, somewhere, but he doesn’t feel up to hunting though three rooms to find them. 

He drops the footrest on the recliner and sets his feet on the floor, bracing his ribs with his bad arm as he levers himself upright. Moving lights up his ribs and shoulder like he’s dropped a match in a box of fireworks; all bright flashes and pain burning along his nerves. The room spins violently and he closes his eyes, hanging onto the chair with all the strength he has left, because he’d rather shoot himself in the head than pass out and have one of the team find him.  Probably in a puddle of piss too, he thinks sourly and lets out the unsteady breath he’s been holding. 

The dizzy spell passes and he shuffles towards the bathroom, feeling three times his age. His knees ache with every step. He pees and moves over to the sink, washing his hands before turning on the little light and examining his battered face critically in the mirror. He’s looked worse, he’s sure, but he damn well can’t remember when. The skin over his cheekbone is black with bruising, puffy from the swelling that covers his whole eye socket. What isn’t bruised is pale and faintly clammy until he soaks a washcloth and wipes his face. He opens his mouth, carefully, feeling the click deep inside of his jaw he didn’t have before the fight, and runs a finger over his teeth. 

Nothing seems to be wrong, but he knows he’s probably going to have to visit his dentist when he gets back home. It’s all part and parcel of the life, but sometimes- especially deep in the AM, when he’s hurting and exhausted and sleep is eluding him, he wishes he had a different job. Something that doesn’t leave him littered with bruises and other people’s blood. Something  clean,  but he knows he left any chance of that behind him a long time ago and there’s no use pining for things you can’t reclaim.

Someone has left a fresh hoodie and pair of sweatpants on the vanity and while he’s desperate for a shower, he knows he’s not quite steady enough to risk it for now.  The thought of falling on his ass in the shower makes him wince for multiple reasons; he’d probably never live it down, for a start. The small gesture touches him though, brings a fleeting smile to his lips before he turns the light off and eases the door open. 

Sophie is curled into a ball in the middle of the bed, eye mask firmly in place, blankets wrapped around her like a cocoon. She stirs as he passes the bed, shoving at the mask with one hand so she can squint at him. “Eliot?” she asks, sounding sleepy, confused, then sits up as the events come back to her, smoothing her hands over her hair to bring it to some kind of order. “How are you doing? Why are you up?”

He blinks at the rapid fire questions. “Yes, fine and needed to use the facilities,” he says dryly and hopes like hell it’s too dark for her to get a good look at him, because once she does, that lie is going to sink faster than a lead balloon. 

She reaches for the lamp and switches it on, and he knows he’s blown. He curls his injured arm around his ribs as she runs her gaze over him, frowning. “You call this fine?” she asks, but there’s no anger in her words, just a tired sort of resignation that’s somehow almost worse. “Sit back down, I'll get you an ice pack and the pills the Doc gave you. "

He retreats to the recliner, grabbing a spare pillow off the bed and taking it with him. It hurts to lower himself back down and he bites the inside of his lip, holding a heartfelt groan inside. He folds the pillow and rests his bad arm on it, taking some of the strain off his shoulder which helps, then hits the button to raise the footrest and braces himself, twisting so he’s curled on his good side. The movement whites out the room for a long couple of seconds and when he blinks back to awareness, Sophie is standing next to him, hands full of supplies, eyes full of worry.

“I’m-” - fine,  he starts to say, then closes his mouth because he’s pretty sure they both know it’s not even vaguely true. Spit pools in his mouth as the nausea from earlier comes back and he gulps, taking small breaths to settle his stomach, but it’s no good. 

Sophie gets the trash can under his chin just in time as he retches, bringing up what little he has in his stomach. It fills him with agony; jolting his ribs, his shoulder, making his head throb so badly he wishes it would just fall off and put him out of his misery. If he had the breath, he’s pretty sure he’d be groaning right now. The worst of it passes and he flops back against the seat, utterly drained. 

“Sorry,” he says hoarsely, swiping an unsteady hand over his mouth, probing his lip which is bleeding again. He presses the side of his thumb against it and lets his breathing settle. 

“You did the same for me,” she says, and takes the trash can into the bathroom, returning with a damp washcloth. “It’s about time I got to return the favour.” 

He intercepts her hand as she tries to wipe his face, taking the cloth gently, because the thought of anyone touching him right now makes his stomach clench in a knot. “The bad clams,” he says faintly and wipes his mouth. 

“You did try to warn me.” She shakes her head, holding back a laugh. “What do you need, Eliot?”

It’s stupid, after everything they’ve been through, but he feels awkward  asking for stuff. “Can you grab my bag?” he asks, because he keeps a kit in there for just this situation. 

“Of course.” She presses a bottle of Gatorade into his hands, along with the bottle of pills the doc gave him. He glances at the label; it’s a combined muscle relaxant and painkiller that he’s taken before. The full dose knocks him out, and that sounds like a blessing right about now. 

His stomach rolls at the thought of drinking anything, but he knows that he needs the fluids and cracks the top on the bottle, swallowing a single mouthful to see if it’ll stay down. It makes him feel a little queasy, but there’s no sign it’s going to come back up, so he swallows another mouthful, then closes the cap, resting his head against the chair, knowing he needs food before he can take any pills. 

“Here.” Sophie leans his bag on the arm of the chair, then reaches down to pick up the discarded blanket, shaking it out over his legs. Neither of them had bothered to change the room’s air con setting, and it’s chilly. 

“Thanks,” he murmurs, and digs into the bag, pulling out a pack of plain crackers and a box of Zofran. He lets the bag slide to the floor and jams the bottle between his hip and the chair so he can open the box of Zofran, popping out a tablet. He swallows it with a sip of Gatorade, licking his lips. He needs food and sleep and the painkillers in equal measure so he tears open the wrapper around the crackers, pulling one out.

Chewing hurts, and he spends a fleeting second wishing he was home, with access to his freezer and the homemade soups he keeps stocked there. There’s a lemon chicken broth that would hit the spot right now, but he pushes the thought away and takes another bite of cracker, convincing himself it’s just as good. Once he’s swallowed the full thing, he fumbles open the box of painkillers and pops one out, washing it down with a mouthful of Gatorade that tastes more like chemicals than the fruit punch it claims to be. 

Sophie is dozing on the sofa, hair in her face, body curled into a ball. It makes him smile, because it’s rare to see her with her guard down. They’re alike in that way, though she hides behind masks, slipping through personas with an ease that unnerves him occasionally. He hides his true self behind a carefully curated image, letting people see what they want, the hitter, the easy mark, letting them underrate him so he can get in close for the sucker punch. He’s let a lot of that go, since joining the team, but it’s so ingrained now it’s a conscious effort most of the time.

He yawns, putting an end to his mental rambling, and shifts, already feeling the drugs getting to work. There’s still a good couple of hours before morning, when he has to pick himself up, drive the mask back into place and be the Eliot they all need him to be; unflappable, untouchable. It’s a heavy mask to wear sometimes but it’s a weight that he’s well used to carrying now, and it’s one that gets lighter for every month he spends with the team. They can carry each other, fill the gaps. Together they’re whole, and that’s a damn comforting thought. It brings a smile to his lips as he closes his eyes and lets himself rest.

[robertsheehanownsmyass]

The Mists of Culloden -- Part 3

AU!Robert Sheehan x Fem!Reader Word Count: 1616 Warnings: a little spooky, a little saucy.

Welcome to my spooky little four-part story to coincide with my Sheehanoween event! I hope you stick around and check it out, and reblog if you enjoy! :)

Part Two

Part Three

After your trip to the visitor’s center, you and Rob were quite shaken up. You walked back to the house and hesitated at the end of the walkway onto the property. Rob ran his hand through his curls.  "I suppose we’d better go inside.“

"I suppose so.”  Neither of you took another step.  You looked at each other, and Rob’s face slowly broke into a grin.  "This is ridiculous.“

You had to laugh despite your unease. "Maybe so.”

You walked up together and slowly pushed the door open, pausing in the entryway.  "Everything looks alright,“ Rob said.

"Well, let’s go,” you said, and you walked inside.  Everything did indeed seem alright, but the knowledge you recently acquired had changed the house forever– you would never look at it the same way again.  "I can’t believe what happened here,“ you said quietly.  "I know that horrible things went on during times of war, but to deliberately burn people alive…”

“It’s fucking insane,” Rob agreed, nodding solemnly.  You sat on the couch and hugged your knees to your chest. Robbie sat beside you and put his arm around you.  "If this house is haunted, why would anyone want to hurt us? The people here… they’ve just been traumatized.  Perhaps they’re confused and crying out for help.“

You shuddered. ”Well sure, but what can we do about it?”

“I wish I knew,” Rob replied quietly.

“Well, first thing’s first. I suppose I should try and scrounge up some supper.”  You began to rise, but Rob laid a hand on your arm.

“How about we go into Inverness and find a nice restaurant?”

“Oh damn,” you breathed with relief. That sounds like an excellent idea.”

***************

You did precisely that, and enjoyed a delicious french dinner in town.  Neither of you were particularly fond of the idea of returning to the house, but you had imbibed quite a few glasses of wine, and were feeling a bit more fearless than normal– not to mention frisky. 

In the car on the way home, Rob leaned over and kissed your neck, softly at first, sensually, and then he grabbed the back of your head and kissed you roughly. You returned the kiss, sighing into it as you opened your mouth to him, and you made out like teenagers for a while before you felt his hand snake up under your skirt. You giggled into his kisses and slouched down a bit to give him better access, and his fingers brushed the thin fabric of your knickers, igniting the sensitive nerves on the other side. You shoved him roughly back against his side of the car and climbed into his lap, grinding against his stiffening bulge, all while kissing his neck and twining your fingers aggressively into his curls. “Ah fuck,” he gasped as you bit his neck, and he clutched your back and ass, forgetting himself in his arousal.

A loud, “AHEM” from your diver broke your wine and lust drunk spell, and you both devolved into laughter. You didn’t climb off your husband’s lap, however, just hugged him while you fizzed giggles into the side of his neck. Rob’s body shook with laughter. “Bloody Presbyterians,” he half-said half-giggled into your ear, and you laughed so hard you thought you would fall off his lap.

“Spoken,” you wheezed, “like a good little Catholic boy,” you managed to finish, before you flopped over to the side in hysterics. You practically rolled back over to your side of the car, hiccuping with drunken laughter.

Robbie had the good sense to look scandalized. “I’m a lapsed Catholic, thank you,” he said, feigning indignation. “How dare you!” This of course, sent you into a new fit of cackling.

You held hands and continued giggling like a pair of idiots for the rest of the ride, but every now and then you would meet each other's eyes and smile. It was like a lightning bolt, the love you felt for that man.

As you finally pulled into the drive of your rented house, all unpleasant thoughts about the place had temporarily been banished from your mind, and were replaced by the need to get your husband into bed, and quickly.

Robbie paid and thanked the driver with a small “sorry ‘bout all that,” and the car promptly departed, leaving you kissing in the driveway.  You were beginning to think that you weren’t going to make it inside, when Rob’s body went rigid.  "Babe, whassup?” you murmured into his neck.

He didn’t respond.  You looked up at his face, and he was staring raptly at the house.  Your blood ran cold.  "Rob, what is it?”  You tugged on his coat sleeve to get his attention.  Without taking his eyes off the house, he replied, “in the window. Look.”

You followed his gaze, and saw the silhouette of a figure standing in the lower left front window; the window to the sitting room.  You gasped and tightened your hold on your husband.  Just then, the figure darted to the left and disappeared from view. Without a word, Rob broke free of you and ran full tilt toward the house.

“Robert, NO!” you shouted, but either he didn’t hear you or had no intention of heeding you.  You followed quickly, fear squeezing your insides. Rob reached the front door and attempted to yank it open, but it was locked.  "Fuck!“ he yelled as he fumbled at his keys and attempted to unlock the door. In his hurried state, it took him a few tries before he succeeded.  

He pushed the door open and bolted inside.  You were on his heels, but he held out a hand to stop you.  "Wait,” he said breathlessly, and proceeded inside, leaving you trembling on the stoop.  "Rob what? What is it?“ You whispered. “Don’t fucking leave me standing here…”

He didn’t respond, and you poked your head inside to get a look. He was standing in the sitting room, looking around in shock.  You clamped your hands over your mouth to stifle a cry of alarm.  The room was littered with papers.  Whoever was inside had taken some of the books off the shelf, torn the pages out, and thrown them around the room.  At your muffled cry Rob ’s head snapped up and he looked at you, and for the first time you saw real fear in his wide eyes.  "Wait,” he said again, and went around the house, upstairs and down, looking for whoever could have invaded your space, while you stood frozen.  There wasn’t anyone there.

When Rob came back down the stairs after inspecting the bedroom, you ran to him and hugged him.  "Oh god. Babe! What the fuck is going on?“

"You saw him too, right? It wasn't just me?” You weren’t sure if it was the booze or the shock, but Robbie seemed a little unsteady.

“Yes.  In the sitting room window.”  You were shaking like a leaf. Rob hugged you tightly.

“Babe,” you said, at the verge of tears. “I’m fucking scared to death.”

“So am I,” he said with a humorless chuckle, which did not comfort you in the slightest.

***********************

The two of you busied yourselves by cleaning up the mess in the sitting room.  Instead of just scooping up all of the papers and tossing them away, you spent time looking them over in the hopes of discovering some clue as to why it happened in the first place.  Most of them were just pages from the books that had been left on the shelves over the years.  The rest were just blank pages that had been in journals or notebooks.

“I don’t understand.  Why would anyone want to tear all the pages out of the books?” You said, shaking your head.  You picked up another pile and sat down on the sofa to flip through them.

“I don’t know luv. I don’t fucking understand any of this.’”  He tossed a pile of papers angrily into the trash bag.

You picked up another pile.  "It doesn’t make any sense. It’s as if these books were just random. In the wrong place at the wrong time.“

You had spoken the cliche without thinking, but both of you snapped your heads up simultaneously.

"In the wrong place at the wrong time…” Rob repeated, more slowly. Then, his face lit up and he shouted, “TIME!”

“Yes!” you replied excitedly  "What if–whatever that was– was looking for something else?  Some papers that would have been here in the past!“

Rob smiled at you, eyes glittering.  "Yes!  But even if that’s the case, whatever it was looking for is long gone.  The house burned, plus, it was over 250 years ago.  Anything that survived the fire would have been removed ages ago.”

You slumped back against the cushions, dejected.  It felt good to have something to grasp on to, if only for a moment, but it all just led to another dead-end.

“No, don’t you see?”  Robbie came to sit beside you. “It knows that whatever it was looking for isn’t here.  Maybe they’ll just… go away.

You cocked an eyebrow at him.  "Do you think it was a ghost now?“

He shook his head. "Babe, I don’t know.  But if it wasn’t a ghost, the son of a bitch vanished into thin air.”

You shrugged.  "Well, you’re probably right.  If it was a ghost, and it was looking for something in those papers, it knows that it’s not here.  No point in bothering us anymore, is there?“

“Right!” Robbie laughed, and you felt the tension leave your body. Maybe it was all the wine you had with dinner, maybe it was wishful thinking. But one thing you really needed to do was drag your husband to bed. You had put it off long enough.

Part Four (Finale) Tag list. Ask me to be added! @thisisarobertsheehanblog​ @joz-stankovich​ @robert-sheehan

[shepherd-of-the-stars]

Artificial

My submission for @hetabang​ ! Hope you like it! 

Word count: 3,590

Summary: Novovol, Russia, the 36th century. The people of this new age have formed two distinct societies: those of the upper world, high in the sky in pearly cities, and those of the lower world, living on junkyard scraps and breathing polluted air. These societies, both run on fear and power, were meant to forever stay separate. But one night, an android fell from the sky and broke through the barrier that divided them. An android who has no memory, not even his own name, programmed to be a companion, but also a guard. His weapons system had been upgraded illegally, and without proper maintenance, could prove to be dangerous and unstable. Ivan, one of the best mechanics of the lower world, fixes him up and gives him a name; Alfred. Together, they go on an adventure, discovering things about their world, themselves, and their feelings.

Chapter summary: Ivan ventures into the junkyard to dig through the heaps for useful treasures, his almost nightly activity. One wild decision changes the course of his life. 

Warnings: brief mentions of death and bodies, hints at abuse(through scars)

Rating: T (to be changed)

Chapter 1: Hell’s Wasteland

The cold night air did wonders in smothering the noxious scents that blanketed the junkyard like a fog. While the sun’s heat cooked them and made them more powerful, nighttime forced them into hiding. The stench of death and rusted metal was enough to make a normal person retch, but Ivan frequented the location often enough that it was nothing but a minor nuisance. 

With his scarf pulled up to cover his nose and goggles to protect his eyes from the chemicals and dust, he weaved through the heaps of filth, looking for treasures hidden amongst the trash. His mechanical pack mule followed behind him dutifully with its heavy, steel feet making square indents in the hard dirt. The droid was bulky and large, similar to the size of its namesake, but its well oiled parts allowed it to move silently. The only noise that came from it was when the luggage it carried clashed into each other inside the bins on its back. 

This machine, that Ivan had built from scraps and named Buster, carried his maker's oddments so that Ivan could dig through the heaps freely. Every couple feet, the man stopped to poke through the collection of garbage and junk to pick out pieces that he could use for his work. There was a time when he'd jump at every eerie thing he found, but after years of coming here, those things only made his heart skip just a little. 

Spotting a human-like leg sticking out from a pile, Ivan scanned it with his device and waited. "Artificial, 20% damage," it said, allowing Ivan to release his breath and drag the limb out so he could toss it into his bins. He had learned the hard way that it was better to be safe than to drag out a corpse. 

It was one of the reasons the place was nicknamed "Hell's Wasteland." Broken androids tossed out here made it look like the place was littered with human bodies. The gangs saw that as an opportunity and began to dispose of their enemies here, hence the smell of decay. No one but vultures like Ivan went through here. No one would ever see. And even if someone did, the law would never listen to someone who only had 2 sets of clothes and ate crumbs for meals. 

What was once a scrap yard had now turned into a dumping ground. After the owners had disappeared, no one was left to take over. Local rumors said that the owners were still on the land, buried under rotten food and broken refrigerators. “If you listen closely, you can hear them crying,” they would say, “they’re waiting for someone to rescue them. But once you get close enough, they’ll snatch your body and use it as their own.”

But Ivan knew better than to listen to wild stories of ghosts and possession. He knew after many visits that it was the cries of cats. When they yowled in the night, it sounded like a child who had lost their guardian, or perhaps someone who was in pain. And since they ran away at the slightest sound, it was no surprise many people have never seen the source of the sound. 

Just then, that exact sound that people dreaded hearing pierced through the air and struck Ivan’s heart with chilling fear. He knew it was only a cat, but even the bravest of men would flinch at a shrill noise breaking silence. Head tilted towards the night sky, he listened, waiting for the sound to meet him again. 

When it came, he followed it with the stealth of an assassin. Even the slightest disturbance could send them running, and Ivan didn’t want to miss his chance of seeing a cute cat. 

With every step, he drew closer, which meant the cat had not discovered him yet. Maybe this time he would be able to catch it and bring it home. Then again, his budget could barely support his sisters and himself. To add another mouth to feed, that would leave them eating out of the dumpster. But one could dream. A small part of him hoped that the soft clanging of metal in Buster’s bins scared the cat away so he wouldn’t have false hope. 

But things never seemed to turn out his way. As he peeked out from behind an overturned car, he spotted the cat that had been yowling for attention and finally understood why it had not run. 

What he saw was an unfortunate black cat stuck in a discarded raccoon trap, its paw reaching out past the bars in an attempt to open the spring doors. Ivan approached it slowly, his large body hunched over in an attempt to make himself smaller for the cat. The mental image of himself looking like a crooked, old witch approaching their animal apprentice crossed his mind and made him smile. 

“Don’t scratch me, please,” he whispered after tugging down his scarf, “I’m just trying to help you.”

Back arched and hairs standing straight, the cat was not happy at all that such a big creature was so close while it was defenseless. It hissed and swatted at Ivan’s hands when he got too close, but eventually, the human proved to be trustworthy. 

He didn’t make any sudden movements, and for that, the small creature was thankful. Slowly, it relaxed, pressing itself against the corner of the cage instead of trying to shred Ivan’s helping hand. 

“You’re very beautiful. I will call you Novi. Do you like that?” He smiled down at the black cat that stared at him with wide, wary eyes. The cage jolted and clicked when it was finally opened and the cat took off with such speed, he could see bits of the ground scatter as her claws tore it up. 

Ivan let out a soft grunt of disappointment watching her disappear behind a pile of garbage bags. “What? No ‘thank you’? That’s a little bit rude.” He chuckled at his own silliness before walking back over to his droid. “Did you get that, Buster?” 

Those keywords made the droid open his sealed mouth with a click. Ivan reached between the spiked teeth to grab a cord to connect to his phone while Buster’s eyes flashed red to verify his identity. They turned blue when the iris scan passed the test, his tail wagging as his defense mode was disengaged. Only Ivan, his sisters, and people he approved had access to Buster’s security files. If anyone else had tried it, the jaws would clamp shut with enough force to take their hand clean off their body.  

With a few taps, he was able to see what his droid’s eyes had recorded. Crystal clear footage of Ivan interacting with the cat popped up on his screen. The quality was good enough that Ivan could pause and zoom in on it just to get a closer look. He took a screenshot and smiled.

“Send this image to Kat. Caption it, ‘rescued a cat from a raccoon cage. Named it Novi. Can I keep it?’ Message complete.” He continued to scrub through the video as he waited for the droid to do as he said. 

The droid went completely still for a few seconds then moved his head in a nodding motion once it was done. He spoke in a human-like voice with a slight mechanical buzz. “Message sent to Kat: Rescued a cat from a raccoon cage. Named it Novi. Can I keep it? Image attached.” 

“Good boy.” Ivan pat him on the head twice before disconnecting the cord and tapping his chin, making his steel jaws slam shut. Turning to the left, he began to return to his previous task but Buster stood firm. 

“Novi spotted.” 

Ivan stopped, turning back to the droid. “What?” 

“Novi spotted,” he repeated, looking straight ahead. 

He followed the eyes of his droid until he saw what his target was. There, standing on top of an old monitor, was Novi. Her tail swayed in the air playfully, as if waiting for Ivan to notice. “Are you back to thank me?” He asked the question as if he expected an answer.

Novi stared at him, completely still except her tail, then she blinked and hopped off the pile of scraps. Ivan had expected her to run a second time, but she turned back to look at him and waited. 

“Buster,” he said, his eyes not leaving the cat.

The droid chimed once. 

“Choice: Follow, or don’t follow.” 

The droid chimed twice. “Choice: Follow, or don’t follow. I choose follow.” 

Ivan hesitated. “Buster, what’s my luck today?” 

Two chimes again. “Your luck today is amazing! Who knows what will happen when you take a chance!” 

“Take a chance,” he repeated under his breath. Every fiber of his being was screaming to him that this was just like the start of a horror movie, but he took a deep breath and began walking towards the cat. “Maybe she will show me her kittens. Yes. This will be good. I have good luck today.” 

Even as he told himself this, his hands were cold and clammy from nervousness. A black cat on a full moon wanted to lead him somewhere. It didn’t seem like a good sign. Any rational person would ignore this stray animal. It could be a trap. Maybe demons. Or maybe Ivan was just being too superstitious. 

Several times, he had attempted to turn the other direction, thinking that following a cat was just too silly, but every time Ivan tried, Novi would walk back over to Ivan and stare. Waiting. Whatever it was Novi was trying to show him, it must be important. 

“Alright alright, I’m following,” he muttered after a fourth attempt to escape. 

They were nearing the center of the junkyard now. The piles here were stacked so high, even Ivan had to crane his neck to catch only a small glimpse of what was at the top. 

He tended to avoid this area. Located directly below the highway, it was a popular spot to toss things over the side. If one wasn’t careful, they could be crushed flat by someone tossing out their garbage. It was also very unstable. One misstep could cause the garbage to topple like an avalanche, and if one was alone, once they were buried, that would be the end. 

“I don’t think I can follow you further, Novi.” Ivan watched as the cat hopped gracefully on the pile, her light body barely making the objects move. But for Ivan, every step he took made garbage tumble down the sides. 

The foolish human had already come this far on his quest, and he didn't want to waste it by turning back. But one wrong step made his foot slip into the pile, a broken beer bottle cutting into his leg. It wasn't deep, but it was enough to make him hiss and stain his torn pants with blood. 

Maybe it was a sign that he should stop trying to climb this mountain of garbage. The wound on his leg was small, but if it wasn't treated, it could cause an infection. “I’m sorry but this is the end of our little adventure. My sister will be very angry if I die trying to follow a cat.” 

Of course, Novi gave no response. She only stared at him a while longer, looked at the highway above, then took off. At first, Ivan thought that perhaps she had run off because she knew Ivan would no longer follow, but the sound of a car door slamming shut told him otherwise. 

“Oh no.” He looked up at the highway, spotting two men approaching the side, working together to carry something heavy. Ivan shouted for them to stop as he scrambled to get to the bottom, but they couldn’t hear him. From the highway to the ground was a drop almost a hundred feet. His pleads would never reach them. And even if they did, they wouldn’t care. 

Ivan had only caught a glimpse of what looked like an old sofa being chucked over the edge  before the impact of it crashing down into the pile caused everything to topple over. Like a mudslide, everything on the top layer tumbled to the ground, Ivan included. 

He did what he could to protect himself as he fell; his limbs cut and bruised as he tried to shield his head. There was nothing he could hold on to. Nothing was stable. It only stopped when everything pooled on the ground, adding to the mountain’s size. 

Buster, who had stayed on the ground while Ivan chose to climb, ran over to the spot his maker was buried. He dug him out as fast as he could, then dragged Ivan to the side where he’d be able to avoid the damage of falling garbage. 

“Are you okay?” What Buster got wasn’t an answer to his question, but a smack on his metal head. “Ow.” 

“You liar. You said I have good luck!” He hissed as he stood up. His clothing was torn in several places and his body was covered in filth. 

Buster tilted his head to the side in confusion. “Luck readings are chosen randomly from choices you programmed into my system. If you are not satisfied with your reading, please ask ag-... Ow.” The droid was cut short when his maker smacked him again. 

“Maybe if I rebooted you, you won’t be so sassy.” 

“My personality is also programmed by you.” 

“Stop talking.” 

“Silent mode: On.” 

Ivan sighed when the droid went silent. He knew it was his own fault for following a cat into such dangerous territory. Now he had to go home and tell his sister that he needed to borrow money to buy a new set of clothes. At least his scarf was okay.

He wrapped the piece of cloth back to how it was when he started his hunt and tended to all the cuts with the first aid kit kept inside his droid. Then, pretending like nothing had happened, he went back to digging through the rubble. If he was going to ask Kat for money, the least he could do was sell a couple more of his projects to earn it back. And to do that, he needed the parts. 

The more he looked and the more he collected, he was beginning to believe that perhaps Buster’s reading was correct. While this area was dangerous and risky, it also held the freshest picks. He had collected so much scrap metal and spare parts that the bins grew full. 

Dozens of different projects zipped through his mind. He could make a small pet droid. Maybe a drone. Or maybe he could invent something brand new! He could be rich! 

A noise from the highway above only added to his excitement. He took a couple steps back from the pile, just to be safe, then watched to see what the people would toss over. “Come on. Give me something good.” 

All he could see were dark figures, but the mystery of it made his heart race. It all stopped when he saw the discarded object reveal itself in the moonlight as it fell. “No way…” 

Like before, the impact of the tossed object caused the pile to crumble. Anything on the surface was buried once again, but Ivan’s eyes were locked on the new addition. 

He waited until the trash had settled and the men above had left before dashing over to where the object was resting. It was buried under bags of garbage and electronic trash, but Ivan had found it. It was broken and damaged, but it was unmistakably an android. 

“What a beauty,” he said to himself as he admired the human-like machine. If it wasn’t for the broken skin revealing metal underneath, Ivan would have thought it was a human. 

The body was built to be male, a strong one too, and it had a head of long, blond hair with a firm but pretty face. The model wasn’t one Ivan has seen in the catalogs either, so it must be custom built. Which also meant it was an expensive model. The more expensive the model, the more he could sell it for. 

“Let’s see… Are you still active?” He waved a hand in front of the android’s lifeless face but gained no reaction. Snapping his fingers to try and wake it by sound did not work either. But when his hand made contact with its silicon skin, its eyes snapped open and locked on Ivan. 

Ivan jumped back quickly when blue eyes flashed red. “W-wait!” He snatched up whatever he could to protect himself. Unfortunately, his weapon of choice turned out to be a bent pole. “I’m friendly. I promise.” 

The android stared at him for a long time. Ivan could hear the whir of his engine as his system tried to determine whether or not Ivan was a threat. Several times, his eyes had gone dark only to flash back on again seconds later. 

“Battery failure,” he whispered as a mental note, “but reaction is good.” That brought a smile to his face. With a couple quick fixes, he could have this android good as new and sell him for thousands. So no matter how long it would take, he waited. 

He waited, with an eager smile, until the android relaxed his body, his eyes dimming down to a natural blue. “Identify yourself,” he spoke. His voice box was damaged, making his speech sound like he was speaking through a static tube. 

"My name is Ivan. I won't hurt you," he keeps his voice calm and quiet like he had with Novi. Now that the android had calmed, he lowered his weapon and came closer until he was within his arm’s reach. 

Ivan had opened his mouth to speak again, but the android’s arm shot forward and grabbed his scarf. He pulled the human down until Ivan was staring into flickering blue eyes. “Who… am I?” 

"I don't know. We've only just met. But I can find out." Dig through his memory files, erase them, reboot him, sell. 

"Are you ICON?" The android spoke the word as if he didn’t know the meaning. 

“ICON?” Ivan paused, his train of thought halting. "I'm Ivan, not ICON. What is ICON?"

He was silent and still for a while, making Ivan believe that it was another system malfunction. But since he had continued to blink, Ivan knew it was just his mind trying desperately to process an answer. "I... don't know. My limbs are damaged. I don't believe I can walk."

"I can take you to my home.” He took a step to the side, gesturing to Buster. “I can fix you. Would you like that?"

"I lack the currency required. At least... I believe I do..." His eyes moved sluggishly from Ivan to the droid, then back again. 

"I don’t require currency. Only your permission. Will you allow me to fix you?"

The android grew silent again, then slowly, he nodded. “Okay.” 

"I'm going to pick you up now. Is that alright?" 

"... I give you permission," he nodded again, "but become a threat and you're dead."

Ivan gave the android a nod in return before he slowly moved the junk off of him. It wasn’t until all of it was cleared that he realized the reason the android couldn’t move. 

His left arm and both of the android’s legs were marked with plasma burns. The damage of it melted through the synthetic skin, past the metal plating, and scorched the circuits underneath. The pattern of the injury looked like it was done with a rope, or perhaps a whip, wrapped several times around each damaged limb. Thoughts of fixing and reselling the android quickly began to fade. Not even a machine deserved to be treated like this. The rich were truly inhumane. 

“Does it hurt?” 

"Of course it hurts," he gave him a puzzled look, "but that doesn't matter."

"It does matter. You shouldn't suffer. Do you want me to power you down? I promise I'll turn you on again when you're safe. It’s so you won't suffer any pain when I move you."

The android frowned, his face scrunched up in distrust. "How can I trust you?"

"I guess you'll just have to. But I won't force you to agree." 

The android had no reason to trust Ivan. They had only just met. If Ivan was a dishonest person, he could shut Alfred down, take him apart, and resell every piece for a good price. Both parties knew that. But Buster had predicted that today was Ivan's lucky day, and that prediction showed to be true. The android, who couldn’t even process his own memories, had decided to trust him. 

“Fine,” he said, his voice soft. “Turn… turn me off. But I’m trusting you.” 

"You're making the right decision. I'll speak to you again soon. I’m turning you off now." He reached forward slowly, praying that the android wouldn’t activate his defenses once again. His fingers felt around the back of his neck until he grazed across a circular dent. 

For a second, his fingers rested there as he stared into the android’s eyes. He recognized the fear, the panic and uncertainty, but if Ivan was going to move him without hurting him, he would need to be shut down. 

“You can trust me,” Ivan reassured him. 

Then slowly, the android’s eyes slipped shut. 

[liamscotthnd1c]

Environmental E-zine: Practical Research

 Part 1:

Single Use Plastics:

Single use plastics are goods that are made primarily from fossil fuel-based chemicals (petrochemicals) and are intended to be disposed of right after use, often in only minutes after being purchased. Single-use plastics are most often used for packaging and service ware, such as plastic bottles, wrappers, plastic straws, and plastic bags.

Worldwide we produce roughly 300 million tonnes of plastic each year, with half of that coming from the production of single-use plastics.

Street Dumping:

Street dumping is the dumping of any waste, whether that’s litter, old furniture, appliances, trash or landscape cuttings on any public right-of-way, city property or private property without the consent of the owner.

 One of the main causes of street dumping is the growth of worldwide population. Since the overall level of waste production is positively correlated with the number of people on earth.

Food Waste:

Globally between 33-50% of all food produced is never eaten, and the value of this wasted food is worth over $1 trillion.

 Meanwhile 800 million people go to bed hungry every night. That is 1 in 9 people on planet earth who are starving or malnourished. With less than a quarter of the food wasted in the USA, UK and Europe each and everyone of them would be sufficiently fed.

 Hunger is not only an issue for developing countries. Last year over 1 million people accessed a food bank in the UK, whilst over 40 million US citizens live in food poverty.

Recycling:

Recycling is the process of collecting and processing materials that would otherwise go to waste and, and be thrown away, and then turning them into new products.

 Recycling has great benefits for the environment by reducing energy usage, reducing the consumption of raw materials, and reducing air and water pollution caused by land filling.

Fast Fashion:

Fast fashion is a term used when describing a business model based on replicating catwalk trends and high fashion designs, and mass-producing them at low cost.

 Some big names in fast fashion are GAP, Primark and TopShop. Competition amongst these fast fashion brands has led to driving the prices down and down, leading to much worse working conditions for the factories used and in some cases the use of child labour to bring costs down drastically.

 I have decided to choose the theme: Street dumping

Every time I’m out walking, I notice the large amounts of litter that is being dumped in the local area. I feel this is something we really need to focus on and start tackling head on. In 10 years time I don’t want to be walking through a plastic park looking at the plastic trees as the shadows of what once was fade into a distant memory.

Part 2:

What is Reportage Photography?

Reportage photography is a type of photography which tends to current events. The aim of this type of photography is to inform people of what is going on around the world e.g. war, protests etc

Is there a difference between Reportage and Documentary photography?

I would say that there is no difference. Both types of photography aim to capture current events and inform people of what is going on around the world. 

Why is it so important to society?

Reportage photography is important to society because it captures a moment in time and preserves it. It allows us to experience events as if we were there at the time, giving us a glimpse into history. It shows us every aspect of the world good, bad, near or far.

Is there such a thing as a photograph that ISN’T reportage?

I would say no. Reportage is capturing a moment in time, an experience to be shared. Every photo does this, just from different points of view.

Research two photographers:

Mandy Barker

Mandy Barker graduated with MA in photography from De Montfort University in Leicester. After graduating she began looking into plastic pollution in the oceans. Her goal is to help raise awareness about plastic pollution through her work with scientist. Her work highlights the affects that plastic pollution is having on marine life as well as on our own lives.

Mandy uses varying sizes of plastic to create a sense of depth in her images this makes the image have a feeling of being deep in the ocean. In this image she is using plastic she found washed up on beaches and in the ocean to resemble jelly fish, this helps to create a stark contrast between the living oceans of today and the plastic fish we can expect to see in the future if we don’t change our ways. The use of coloured plastics against the dark black background reinforces the idea of being deep in the ocean.

Eduardo Leal

Eduardo is a Portuguese photographer mainly based in south east america. He studied a masters in photojournalism and documentary photography at the  London College of Communication. He has worked on two plastic photography projects, plastic sea and plastic tree. The aim of these projects is to help raise awareness of the global problem that is plastic pollution.

Eduardo uses a contre-jour lighting technique by shooting the sun behind the plastic bag shining through. He has used the plastic bad to represent how the world will end up being if we don’t stop polluting our environment with single-use plastics, it shows how our once green and lively trees will turn to plastic trees in a plastic world. His use of harsh lighting gives an almost post-apocalyptic feeling to the image re-enforcing the fact that we need to make a change now before it’s too late. 

[theroguefeminist]

What are the things an (minor) individual can do to help against climate change?

One book that really helped me rethink how I do things to be greener is called The Story of Stuff--this book is great because it thoroughly criticizes capitalism as the source of this problem while also connecting it to how we all live our daily lives. This video is a great introduction, their website is an excellent resource on ways you can get involved, and they have lots more videos. TL;DR: our society is obsessed with working and producing for the sake of it for endless growth instead of minimizing waste and work so we can rest and value the things we produce and buy. We should shift our thinking from endless production to only working and consuming things when we actually need to.

There’s a lot we can do in lots of different aspects of our lives and I think all of us (including myself for sure) could improve. No way can each of us do all of the things I’m gonna bring up in this post, but most of us could probably do a bit more. What we can do will vary depending on life circumstances and privilege, so keep in mind that not everyone will have access to these things and this is not an indictment on people who don’t do some of them (all of us, myself included) and it’s not even a comprehensive list, but it’s a start. Some of these things may not be possible for you as a minor, but you may be able to suggest them to your parents or keep them in mind once you move out on your own.

To make it simpler I will be breaking it down into different categories.

Political Engagement

Be politically engaged and vote / put pressure on politicians to adopt measures that will minimize global warming (this includes increasing regulation of corporate carbon emissions, protecting clean water, supporting the Green New Deal, protecting habitats, and simpler policies like eliminating single use bags and straws when possible, etc). I know you said you’re a minor, but you can still sign petitions and write to politicians (esp local ones). I’d say start reading up as much as you can on climate change policies and which politicians prioritize this issue so you can be ready once you are able to vote. You can still participate in protests / demonstrations and you may be able to join certain organizations like the Sierra Club (although you may need to be 18+ for some) Local Efforts You can join local organizations and volunteer / participate in beach/wildlife litter clean-ups and other efforts to improve your local environment or town. Pay attention to local issues like your parks, beaches, nearby wildlife, water and air policies, etc. In middle school and high school you’re probably required to do community service, so you can devote your hours to something climate change related. You can also find out what efforts are being made at your school to reduce carbon footprint and even get involved with your school board/ student government to address that.

Transportation

Minimize driving as much as possible. Use public transportation or walk or bike when you can. If you have a choice to work or go to school closer to where you live or to do work remotely, take it and minimize commuting. If you are in the market for a car, try to choose a hybrid or electric car or at least one with higher mileage. If driving is unavoidable where you live or for a specific trip, carpool where possible. Help out your coworkers or classmates by driving them or vice versa. This has the added advantage of helping others.

Energy Use / Pollution 

Be mindful of energy you might be wasting. Try purchasing rechargeable batteries instead of disposable or using rechargeable appliances instead of battery-operated where possible. Avoid leaving devices on or plugged in when they don’t need to be. Use lower light settings on your devices (this is better for your eyes anyway!). Find out if alternative sources of energy are possible for your house (such as solar power instead of coal). Don’t smoke/vape or pick up smoking/vaping as a habit or quit if you have. Avoid creating sources of smoke such as bonfires or wood stoves/fireplaces unless necessary. Minimize use of heaters / air conditioning except when necessary.

Fashion

Resist fast fashion: try to shop at thrift stores or when you buy new clothes, from sustainable outlets or at the very least more durable staples (i.e. something that will stay in fashion and in good shape). You want clothes that last as long as possible instead of following short-lived trends or being cheaply made and wearing out quickly. (Example: the prom dress I wore for high school was a chic but understated black dress that has lasted me over ten years--most people wear their prom dress and then toss it in the trash). When you outgrow your clothes or become tired of them, donate them to a thrift store, someone you know, or charity--don’t throw them away unless they are stained, have holes or are otherwise worn out.

Technology / Goods Don’t ditch your phone, tablet or computer for the latest model unless necessary. Avoid brands that are designed to die quickly and be replaced. Do research and try to purchase well-made products that will last and get repairs where possible. Avoid hasty purchases for things you will only use a short time then throw away. Try to buy things with re-use value instead of disposable (for instance, a re-washable mop or sponge instead of disposable wipes). When you decide you do not want a product anymore, donate it instead of taking it to the dump. You can also research companies that are making efforts to be reduce their carbon footprint and which are the worst offenders and try to buy from greener ones.

Food

Shop with reusable cloth bags or where not possible, recycle or reuse paper bags (one option during covid-19 is keeping reusable bags in your car or getting bags that roll up small to keep in your pocket and bagging them once you leave the store). Compost, give away or donate food you don’t eat before it expires. Avoid food with excessive plastic packaging. Try to buy local at farmer’s markets, local grocery store outlets or co-ops if affordable and feasible. Use biodegradable bags when shopping for produce instead of plastic bags. Consider minimizing your meat and/or dairy intake if possible. Try to buy in bulk where possible. Try to buy sustainably / ethically sourced food where possible.

Waste

Learn how to properly dispose of special kinds of waste like electronics, batteries and medications. Dispose of these properly instead of just tossing them in the trash. Re-use and recycle where possible. Compost. As mentioned above, avoid purchases that involve high levels of waste such as disposable items or those with built in obsolescence or a short life. Avoid unnecessary use of water (i.e. leaving the sink on while you brush your teeth, long showers, frequent baths). Where possible, avoid buying items with a lot of plastic packaging or individually wrapped parts.

Again, It’s not possible for every single person to do all of these things, but probably the majority of us could do more of these things. Just listing this out made me thing of more things I could be doing. I encourage people do do their own research too on ways to minimize their carbon footprint bc there’s probably a lot more than what I listed here.

[experimentalmadness]

Visitation

More Harvey Dent and OC nonsense featuring my trash-fire of a character, Jacky Ripley. This is still set prior to any villain shenanigans on Harvey’s part, but only just. Jacky tries to sneak into the hospital to see him after the attack, but things go...wrong.

No real warnings, but a content check that an unstable character does refer to herself in less than great mental health terms.

---

It was late. It was raining—as usual. And she was making stupid choices on purpose.

The hospital looked like something out of a nightmare. Stark, backlit with a glowing fluorescent from the ER  driveway. Jacky was soaked through her jeans and sweater. Her hair was plastered to her face even with the hoodie up.

Cop cars littered the parking lot, lights flaring without sirens making it look like even more surreal.

Jacky couldn’t feel her feet, couldn’t feel her legs. Didn’t really notice as she approached the building. She couldn’t go inside. That clarity kept her grounded in only mild stupidity instead of outright suicidal idiocy. Scaling a building at 1am in the rain was not her favorite task, but she had done it countless times before for work.

She’d have to mount the ledges and sidle along the entire circumference.

She couldn’t ask which room he was in.

Miri told her she shouldn’t go. Couldn’t go.

Gilda had left ten messages on her phone since last week.

Jacky, I know I can’t ask…

Jacky, he would want….

Jacky, please answer….

Jacky rushed over to the bushes to vomit. Hands and knees, stomach cramping so hard and so sudden her back arched in pain. Her throat burned, her eyes watered. It tasted like the bottle of whiskey she had downed in earnest. Funny, she didn’t feel drunk. She felt more sober than she had in her entire life.

Climbing the hospital felt even more impossible now with her limbs shaking every which way. She could barely see through the rain. Just as she was psyching herself up to make the first jump even thought she’d probably miss, fall, and break even bone in her stupid body; she was hoisted off the ground by one leg. With a grunt that gave way to a dull scream, Jacky went flying upwards through the rain, shooting straight up to the roof. She bobbed precariously over the edge of the building, headfirst. Her first thought was this was certainly odd, the second was that if she died right now it would be quick.

“I’m surprised it took this long for Moroni to send someone to finish the job,” a grating voice growled at her in the darkness.

“I...who…?” she couldn’t see through the rain and shadow, and being held upside down certainly did not help. “I don’t work for Moroni.”

Something pushed her, causing her to spin round, facing the skylights. “Falcone then.” A shadow moved past the lights, and the voice spoke with authority. Whoever it was it knew her old boss. Age-old reflex made her anxious until Jacky remembered everyone in Gotham knew her boss now, and knew exactly who she really was. Three months out of prison was not long enough for people to forget the Ripper case.

But whoever this was, was no cop.

Jacky had an inkling. It did not comfort her.

“I’m not here to hurt anyone.”

“The string of dismemberments at Flannigan’s begs to differ.”

How did he know about that? No one should know about that for the next five hours by her own calculations. She kept her mouth shut. He had no proof. Moroni’s men deserved it. She’d killed her career and put a price on her head in the same stroke, and she’d do it again. Jacky felt wild in a way she knew wasn’t the whiskey. She kept the crazy all shut in, but tonight it just had to come out. She’d made it hurt. She’d done it special; crazy only came out when Falcone wanted a message sent. This one was the first time she’d done a message all of her own.

“I wanted to see Harvey.” Crazy went right back into its box as she heard his name out of her own mouth, desperate, raspy, pathetic.

“Why?” The Batman jerked on the line keeping her suspended.

Because if she hadn’t told Harvey to stay away from her after her release from Blackgate she’d have known how in deep he was in going after Moroni. Because if she hadn’t bought into Harvey convincing her she still had a chance, that she could be a better woman, she wouldn’t have stopped working for Falcone and she could have heard about the hit. Because if she hadn’t lied in the first place she’d be a normal woman inside the hospital taking care of her friend. Because if she just had minded her own business the first day that stupid man had come into her shop she wouldn’t be here right now….

“I just wanna know how he is.”

“That line might have worked on the nurses, it won’t on me.”

“It’s the only line I got.”

Jacky was exhausted. She swung out and back from the roof to the abyss, her head going numb from being upside down so long. That was it then. Her grand plan to sneak into Harvey’s room, no muss no fuss, and back out was a bust. Batman didn’t make a move to haul in the line. She was sure he was going to drop her off in one of the cop cars below and tell the others to arrest her on trespassing, and hell, why not add murder to the list of offenses. No sense in being coy now.

“Is he dying?” Saying the fear out loud made her stomach cramp up again.

Silence from the Batman. He still thought she worked for Falcone. He still thought this was some play for ulterior information. He wasn’t going to believe her and he was right! He shouldn’t. She’d spent so much time lying and playing innocent shop girl no one should believe her ever again. And here was a fitting punishment. For the first time Jacky struggled on the line. The drop of crazy made her dizzy. It was only to be used for Miri’s sake, for the family, for money when she could make it work for them. “If he’s dying I just wanted to see him before...you don’t have to trust me. You can arrest me. I just need to know. Tell me...TELL ME, OR I’LL…”

“Or you’ll do what, Jacqueline?”

The sound of her full name gave her pause. Batman finally lowered her to the roof, cutting the cable and letting her fall in a shivering heap. She pulled herself to her feet, balling her cold hands into fists. “I’ll make it hurt.” Now that, assuredly, was the whiskey talking.

But it was going to hurt. She hoped it did. She deserved it.

Jacky winced when, instead of a punch, a hand descended on her shoulder. The strength of the grip was frightening. It rooted her in place, but offered no violence. “He’s not dying, Jacquline.”

“Oh, that’s good,” was all she managed before she burst into tears.

The hand on her shoulder was all that prevented her from giving way and sinking to the floor. Harvey wasn’t going to die. Things could still be okay. She’d be going back to Blackgate, but that was where she belonged anyway, no point in running from it. She could write to him in prison, but she wouldn’t. Because she was a coward in her core.

“S-sorry. Thank you. You can arrest me now,” she sniffed, straightening, looking up directly into the masked eyes of the Batman.

“Come with me.”

The hand never moved from her shoulder as she was shoved along. Batman booted open the roof access hatch and forced her down into the stairwell. Everything echoed inside. The rain falling off her clothes, her skin, plinking onto the metal stairs. The thick boots the Batman was wearing in lock step with her own, softer, sneakered tred. And he never said another word, just marched her down flight after flight. Around and around.

Back to prison. Miri would be so upset. She had forgiven her once, Jacky doubted she would a second time. She had tried to be a good sister, the little double act she had between their shared bakery and her night errands for Falcone had only been for her sake. But this city beat most people down eventually and Jacky knew at some point the killing hadn’t really ever been just a paycheck had it?

At least Gotham hadn’t claimed Harvey. It had tried. He’d still show them. That was enough to live with. She hoped Gilda would be alright. Maybe she could sneak one quick phone call to at least tell her how sorry she was she had stayed away. The DA and his wife shouldn’t be seen in the company of a convicted killer. She had just been trying to help. She’d only ever just wanted to help.

The white light of the hospital blinded Jacky for a moment, but Batman kept her moving. Nurses and doctors parted in quiet shock as they made their way through. No one was going to argue with the Batman, especially not when he was holding a perp. The brand of killers he brought in were on another level far beyond her. Maybe she should feel flattered. Mostly she just felt tired.

They stopped at a door, that grip tightening to levels that made Jacky grind her teeth. “If you try to make a break for the window,” he growled. “You’ll be caught before you hit the ground.”

“What?”

He opened the door, shoving her inside, releasing her. She could feel him still in the darkened room. This was not an arrest. There were no cops in here. Just the steady beep of a heart monitor and…

“Harvey?”

For a man who always made life feel so much larger than it actually was it was so much harder to see him lying in the small hospital bed than Jacky had anticipated. She waited for some trick from the Batman, turning back to face him. He only stood in the shadows, watching. She allowed herself to move towards the bed.

Gauze and mesh covered the left half of his face, his neck, and his arm. She knew the extent of the attack from the news. There would be scars. And that was the best news ever, because scars meant he’d be alive.

She jumped when he shifted on the bed. Jacky hadn’t counted on him being awake. She didn’t want him to see her! She backed up into the dark. “Jacky?”

His voice was not his own. Maybe the acid had damaged his vocal chords.

Caught, she stood in limbo between the bedside and the door. “Hey.”

“How did...you get...in?”

“Light breaking and entering. I...I didn’t mean to disturb you. I know I shouldn’t have come, but…” If she cried again, warning or no warning, she was going to throw herself out that window.

“Shut up,” he snapped, grabbing her hand. “I’m glad to...see...you.”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “I don’t think I can stay long, my escort won’t let me,” she gestured back to the moving shadows behind her. “But you’re gonna heal up fine.” This was the part where she was supposed to say she was grateful he wasn’t dying, or dead. Where she said because he was the most important friend in her life and losing him was unfathomable. But she didn’t.

“Doctors...won’t let me see. It’s...not good...is it?”

“Think how intimidating you’re gonna look in court. You’ll win by default.”

A gurgling, raspy, laugh was her only reward. “Think you can...stay?” His hand gripped her tighter and Jacky almost wanted to tear herself in half.

“Don’t think my escort is gonna let me, Harv. I...I did something bad tonight. I’ll probably be back in Blackgate by the time you get out of here. And I’m sorry. I let you down.” She could feel him staring at her. His one good eye, searching hers, that grip pulling her closer.

“What did you do?”

The grip on her hand turned into a claw, nails digging into flesh so hard it hurt. He didn’t sound angry, and she didn’t stop him. “Got some of Moroni’s guys. It was worse than what you brought me up for. I’m sorry, Harvey, but they deserved it. I only wanted—”

“Payback.”

The pain medication was what made him sound so cold. Just the drugs making him a little confused.  Even in the dark she could see the outline of a smile that was and was not his.

“Jacky, we always knew...there was a reason...we liked you.”

[kaysreadingarchive]

Wolves in Sheep’s Clothing: Part 2

Pairing: Jacob Seed x Reader, slightly John Seed x Reader x Joseph Seed

AUs: Omegaverse, werewolves

Warnings: Cursing, mention of character death, insulting

Word Count: 3,307

A/N:  Another chapter is out. I feel very free more with this story than my others. But don't worry, another chapter of On the Front Line will be out soon. It's just fun to write this sort of stuff and I feel happier while doing it. Thank you all for your love and support while I write trash and sip tea. It means the world to me! And like always, give me some feedback on what I could do better or what I did alright, where you wanna see this whole mess go, or something you just don’t understand. I also really want to know what your theories are for the coming story. I always love reading your guys' analyses.

Masterlist      Omegaverse Rules

-----------

There wasn’t a week that went by that didn’t involve a Seed brother or the Project at Eden’s Gate. The mere mention of the word seed sent you into a whirl of emotions. It was mostly anger. All three of them never seemed to stay out of people’s business or trouble.

It made you think that Pops was wrong to say Nancy should keep her eyes on you three instead of the brothers. It would benefit him more than your snooping. All they did for months now was cause trouble for everyone who lived in Hope County. Most people would say that they weren’t bad folks. People saw them as something good. People didn’t read too much into it, they saw them as a simple church. They were compared to the Lamb of God church outside Fall’s End or even Pastor Jerome Jeffries.

None of them did anything illegal, nothing that could warrant suspicion. There was a complaint or two about John annoying various business owners or buying up possible farmland, but that was it. Pops and yourself were the only ones that knew better. You’ve spent hours after your shift was over piecing their records together.

You would sit at your little desk sifting through the three files you composed of them, including another woman named Faiths whose actual name was Lana.

Joseph’s was the thickest with arrests ranging from trespassing to disturbing the peace. None of them were murder or kidnapping, but it was something. He didn’t seem to hold a job for long according to the records from the Rome Police Department.

John’s was the thinnest. He had a clean record from what you could tell. He was a lawyer and he seemed pretty successful with a dab of luck with rich parents. It would definitely explain the charm and dollar signs. You couldn’t even hold yourself back from scoffing when you read his file. The whole point of looking over these records was whether or not they could have a permit to carry. You felt uneasiness just thinking about giving John a permit to carry a dangerous weapon, but you had to give him one.

If you and Staci showed up at a call involving him, he always had a stupid ass smirk on his face. You started to think he purposely caused a ruckus just to irate you. Staci just had a dumb expression on his face, but you really couldn’t hide your fury with him.

Jacob was a whole other story. He committed arson apparently. It would explain why his face looked like shit. He burned down a barn and then was drafted into the military. Great, fucking fantastic. Just what you needed. A war hero.

You slumped down in the office chair and let out a long, agonizing sigh. You stayed late yet again to go over the files. You wanted, no needed an excuse to not give them that piece of paper. Your eyes focused on the stack of files again, but not a paper was out of place. This was it. They won, John fucking won.

At your last visit to John, he had asked you about the status of the permit. There was another noise disturbance call in the area and of course, it was you and Staci. You both drove to a clearing near a pasture not far from Fall’s End.

It was fairly nice, only having a dirt road to access it. Piles upon piles of light-colored logs littered the ground and John was in the middle of it. His jacket was off, leaving him in only a blue button-up shirt. His black sunglasses were over his eyes and he wore a blue hard hat. You would think he wouldn’t wear one so it wouldn’t mess up his hair, but the big baby was sucking it up so he didn’t get hit in his thick skull.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite deputies. What brings you two here?” His voice sounded teasing as he walked up to the window of the patrol car. He laid his arm on the door and leaned in.

“Knock it off, John. You know why we’re here.” This insult barely shuts him up. You could practically see the cogs turning in his head as you talked back to him. But then it turned back into a smirk.

His smirks usually sent chills down your spine, not the good ones either. This time it didn’t, it felt like you were in control for once. Your brain was finally telling your anxiety to calm the fuck down. It felt great to not have this overwhelming pressure on your chest.

“Oh, you’ve got a mouth on you, Rook. It would be a tragedy if I had to teach you some manners.” There was a hint of a predatory tone in his voice. It may have sounded flirty but it definitely wasn’t. How people believed in these brothers was beyond you.

Normally, in this situation, you would feel trapped, but you felt so free. You could easily reach over the door and strangle him with his own necklace. Maybe drown him in the Henbane. That sounded like a great idea.

“Why don’t you knock it the fuck off before I show you the inside of a jail cell.” John didn’t even flinch at your threat. To him, it sounded like a kitten hissing to defend itself. This pointless fight with words, something attempting to hurt him, was shining through as wrath.

Staci was the exact opposite, instead of being cool and collected, this grown-ass man was sweating bullets. His hazel eyes were wide open, and his mouth was hung open. He had never heard you curse or act out like this before. You were usually shy and reserved, you never really voiced your opinion especially to him.

You’ve always were reserved, even as a child you never could speak your mind. But, John was someone that pushed you and pushed you until you finally broke. You didn’t see him as a person, you saw him as an object to be yelled at and punched. Like a pillow. Yeah, a handsome smug ass pillow. There was always a part of you that wanted to break out and now this fucking church finally did it.

“Now, my dear. We don’t want to say things we’ll regret, do we?” His blue eyes flicked from the guns strapped near his sides to you. Your eyes narrowed as you watched his movement. His tattooed hand settled at the base of his waist. Putting a steady hand on the cool metal.

“Are you threa…!” Before you could say anything, Staci covered your mouth with his hand. It smelt like gunpowder and donuts and was big enough to not only cover your nose but your mouth. You hastily ripped it off before he suffocated you. You gave him a glare and mumbled curses under your breath. What an asshole.

“We’re just going to go if there isn’t anything else.” You could tell he was trying to act nice. It was like a challenge for him. Staci’s entire personality was either set to asshole, or fake friendliness. There was no in-between. You could practically feel the anger boil inside of you when John’s smirk got even bigger and turned into a full smile. White teeth and all. He was mocking you and it only made you angrier.

He reached into his expensive suit pants and pulled out a yellowed piece of paper. ‘COME JOIN US!’ was written in big bold letters and the cross of Eden’s Gate was plastered right in the middle. He reached in through the driver’s side door and just held it there for you to take. You looked at the paper and back at him, waiting for him to make a surprise move.

Maybe he’ll grab your arm and cut it off. Or he could drag you through the door and make you work on his silly wooden project. The possibilities were endless when it came to this man. Who knew what he would cook up in that stupid mind of his. Some persuasive lawyer shit.

You carefully reached for the paper and snatched it away as soon as your fingers made contact. Goosebumps went up your arm when you brushed your hand with his fingers. You had no idea whether it was from disgust or… something else, but you definitely didn’t like it.

“I would love it if you would join us. Maybe we can wash out that sinful mouth of yours.” You had no idea whether he was flirting or not. He was doing an awful job at it if he was. Nevertheless, a faint blush made its way to your cheeks. You looked away and rolled the window up, just hoping his fingers would get caught. They sadly didn’t.

Instead, you did him one better. You slowly backed the car up and made sure to go over one pile of logs. The wheels went over the pump and the sickening crack of wood sounded in the car. You looked outside the window to see John screaming. He began to bang on the glass until you shifted the car into drive. Another crack was heard as you pulled forward and you could see a fairly large log split in half.

A feeling of satisfaction soon replaced the anger as you drove away and John’s face filled the entire rearview mirror. His blue eyes were narrowed as his entire face was bright red. He looked to be screaming at one of the builders. Who was no cowering in fear as John let him have it.

The ride back to the station was quiet. Awkwardly quiet considering that Staci was a motormouth. He said nothing as he watched farms and pastures pass by. His lips were pulled into a frown and his eyes held seemingly no emotion. They were just pools of hazel with nothing else. That uneasy feeling was very evident now.

It was hard knowing someone was mad at you, a critical flaw you’ve always had was wanting to be liked, it got worse at the academy when no one seemed to like you. Or when you parents died, you stopped looking for approval from them and it switched to wanting approval from everyone. You couldn’t please everyone was something Pops always said.

Just knowing Staci didn’t like you ate you up inside. “Staci, come on, whatever I did I didn’t mean it.” The beginning was very evident in your voice. The tough act slowly melted away as your voice and hands quivered on the wheel.

Staci didn’t even react to you. He just continued to gaze out the window.

“I’m not mad, I just hope you don’t go to that sermon. I have a bad feeling about those guys, but no one else seems to. John especially.” Wait, were you hearing this right? Staci Fucking Pratt cared about you. The same jackass that glued your office supplies to the ceiling and had an absolute field day with you getting them down? The same one that made a habit of tripping you when you walked into your office?

“Was that concern I hear Pratt?” Your frown turned into a small smile as you teased him. He didn’t look at you but you could clearly see him get flustered.

“Shut the fuck up, ( Y/N). Don’t tell Joey, I won’t hear the end of it.” He gave a slight chuckle and went back to looking out the window.

The atmosphere became more comforting than before. You parked the car into a space and got out, grabbing the flier. You were curious, to say the least. What was strange about it was it was at night. Apparently the project did them at odd hours. From the butt crack of dawn to midnight, there was no stopping them. Even people like Major Virgil Minkler thought they were good people. Strange but good.

You just wanted to see if your hunch was true about them. Could they be bad people or were you just crazy? John was definitely crazy in your opinion but he just seemed to have a terrible temper that went on and off like a switch.

You walked to your shared office and logged out of the computer. Staci had already dashed to his car as soon as he hit the power button. You grabbed the files from the desk and walked out with your bag. You put all three of them into the archives in the break room and walked out to Pop’s office.

You gently knocked on the wood door and opened it. “Oh, kiddo, I didn’t hear yea.” Whitehorse turned to you and put an arm through his jacket.

“Are you ready to go old man?” He chuckled and shook his head, grabbing the truck keys and walking out behind you.

“Old man? Soon enough I’ll be saying that to you, you’re gettin’ grey already from Pratt.” He had to just pull your leg. You did nothing but complain about Pratt at home. Pops had even said you were like an elementary school girl bullying a boy she liked.

As soon as you made it to the truck you threw your duffle bag into the bed. You weren’t really worried about someone stealing, everyone kept their front doors unlocked. This county was placed around trust and faith. Eden’s Gate was an extent of that. They brought faith so they could be trusted. Something definitely irked you the wrong way, they were too friendly. Too willing to help. Maybe that’s why people trusted them so easily. They would follow someone like Joseph blindly if he made the tough choices for them.

You hoped right into the passenger’s seat and Pops followed you and set the truck on the road. The radio was softly playing old 80’s rock. You turned the station and an unfamiliar song played through the speakers. You turned the volume up slightly and, ‘Keep your rifle by your side!’ played.

“What the fuck is this?” You turned the channel again and this time, ‘Jacob’s gonna come and set those sinners free!’ played. “Is there some new Christian station? This sounds so bad.” You kept the station on and made fun of it as Pops drove. He would put in a joke or two as the songs changed, each one worse than the last.

You brought out the flier and gave it another look over. You could feel Pops green eyes on you as soon as the name Project at Eden’s Gate came into view.

“Don’t tell me you're gonna go see that loon, (Y/N). They’re up to somethin’, I can smell it from a mile away.” He gave you a worried smile and turned his focus back onto the road. His comment took you back a moment and you thought about it. What if he was right? What if they really are a cult or something that? But a cult? In Hope County? No fucking way in hell. But, then again, you were very curious why everyone went. Why anyone would want to listen to a grown man in a bun preach. He must be worth listening to then. You went back and forth with yourself before Earl had enough and sighed.

“I wouldn’t be mad if you went. Just don't get caught up in a web, who knows what would happen if I lost my favorite granddaughter.” He gave another reassuring smile. You knew he would support you with whatever you did. Whether he agreed with it or not.

“I’m your only granddaughter!” You gave a slight chuckle and threw all the tension out the window. You were going to go to this sermon and see what happens, it couldn’t be that bad.

When you finally reached the house and Pops threw you the keys from the porch as you slid into the driver’s seat. You drove off towards Eden’s Covenant near the Henbane. It was very pretty this time of year. White oxeye daisies grew in bunches along the river’s shore and you remember having picnics with your parents by the banks and learning how to make daisy chains.

When you arrived you could barely find a spot to park. There was no parking lot so there were cars shoved into every place they could fit them. You even spotted Nancy’s van a few cars down from your truck.

People singing could be heard outside. It was the same song from the radio. Keep Your Rifle By Your Side. Wait, did they have their own radio station? Yet, there were the same songs from another station. This church bought two radio stations. That can’t be right, a church doesn't need a station in the first place.

You walked to the front of the church, seemingly dragging your feet to beat around the bush. You were hesitant at first but Joseph’s voice rang from inside. It was very soft but began to get louder until it sounded like he was ranting and not performing a sermon.

You pushed the door open, trying to avoid the people that practically stood in the isles. There wasn’t enough room for everyone it seemed. You squeezed your way through until you found a spot near the wall in the front. All three Seed brothers were present. Joseph up in front preaching his little heart out and Jacob and John lingering in the back along with who you presumed to be Lana. Surprising, Joseph’s shirt was off, revealing numerous tattoos. His rosary swayed with his frantic hand movements as he tried to act and give life to his words. It was almost mesmerizing how passionate he was about this.

“When I read the newspaper like everyone else, I see headlines I don’t want to see. Brother turned against brother and for what reason? Politics, greed, and pride. These politicians, these leaders are too blind by their own sin to see what they are willing to destroy in order to feed it. God cannot ignore this world any longer. The Lord has seen your sins and He has asked for my help. He whispered His righteous words into my ear and delivered a message onto the world. Come and see the change that the project will bring. Hear as Gabriel sounds his trumpet of the oncoming collapse. Our Pack must stick together to walk among the angels through Eden’s Gate!” Collapse? What was the collapse? And a pack? Did he mean like a pack of wolves? What the hell is this?

Joseph walked back and forth, staring intently at each member. He didn’t turn away as he got louder, pulling more and more people in with his intense gaze and words. You had to internally fight yourself from listening to him further.

In some instances, in some crazy way, he was right. Just ask any prepper in this county and they would tell you something similar. You turned yourself away from Joseph to see Jacob looking your way while whispering into the ear of another man. They both looked straight at you as the other bearded man walked away, his trench coat trailing behind him.

“I am your Father and you are my Children.” The congregation gave cheers as the sermon ended. Joseph hopped down from the stage and was immediately swarmed by a dozen people offering hugs. While they were distracted, you slipped out the door and back to the truck. Quietly avoiding Nancy and Danny, who were both outside speaking to John.

You opened the driver’s side door but stopped. Your clothes were thrown all over the bed and the duffle bag was ripped open. “What the fuck!?” You gave a small scream as you jumped into the bed and went through your stuff. Your picture was gone. Your mom and dad’s picture was fucking

[yesloverboy]

Neighborly (mgk!Tommy Lee x Reader) Part 1 (?)

SUMMARY:  Transfering to Los Angeles for university, you end up having to rent the cheapest place available the summer before your first semester. Lucky for you, it just so happens to be above Mötley Crüe’s apartment of debauchery and legendary parties. While moving in, you meet Tommy, who is more than eager to help you move your stuff in. The closer you become, you soon realize that Tommy is taking your welcome mat as more of an open invitation…

word count: 3,295

[Warnings: swearing, minor injuries with blood, drug and alcohol mention, lots of backstory because it’s chapter uno yadda, yadda, yadda.]

NOTE: Hey everyone! I was thirsty for more Tommy content and figured it was about time to write some myself. This is the first fic I’ve written in literal years, and I’m extremely nervous for y’all to read it, but something about this new wave of Crüe fans just really brought it out of me. 

I’d really love to make this a series, so if you have any feedback or suggestions please hit me up! 

 The Los Angeles sunshine burns bright as you pulled your old pickup truck up to your new apartment. It isn’t the most glamorous place you’d ever seen but, for Los Angeles, the price certainly won you over. Starting over in a new city at a new university wasn’t going to be easy, but knowing you’d have all summer to adjust made you hopeful for the future. Who knows? Maybe you’d make a few friends along the way. With a heavy sigh, you turn off the truck and step out into the blistering heat.

 You glance up at the building before you, trying to gauge where exactly your apartment would be situated. It was a brick, multi-level apartment complex with flights of metal stairs snaking all the way up to the top. Glancing at the bed of the truck, you take note of all the boxes and furniture you had to stuff and bungee cord down just to get across the country. Instinctively, you already feel yourself regretting that you had agreed to live on the fourth level.

 Oh well, you think, might as well go up and see the place. 

 As you jog up the second flight of stairs and approach the third level, you can’t help but notice that the apartment directly below yours looks completely trashed from the outside. The balcony is littered with so many bottles and cigarette butts that whoever living there may as well have been collecting them. 

 Slowly, you realize that wasn’t the strangest thing. The window of the apartment hung wide open, while the front door was practically nailed shut. You hoped to God that the landlord was planning on doing renovations, otherwise passing that place on the regular is seriously going to give you the creeps.

 Deciding your imagination is probably getting the best of you, you head up the next flight to see what you new home was going to look like. When you approach your doorstep, you are relieved to find that your new place seems to be in much more stable condition. You are even delighted to find that the previous tenant had left a mat outside the door that simply stated, Welcome. Turning your key in the lock, the door opens with a satisfying click.

 Upon walking inside, you notice that it’s a bit smaller than you had hoped– but otherwise fairly clean and normal. There’s a small kitchen, a living room, and a bedroom connected to the balcony. However, you probably can’t access it unless you feel like climbing through the window, or maybe going out the front door and around.

 Shrugging, you throw your keys on the kitchen counter. It’s not much, but it’s definitely good enough. Now it’s time to fetch those goddamn boxes.

 After about an hour of lugging boxes up the stairs, you had decided that unpacking might just be your least favorite activity. As you start narrowing down your things to just the heavy stuff, you begin to notice some movement coming from the grimey apartment beneath yours. As you struggle to haul your small dresser past the third floor, you are shocked to see an average-sized guy with a mop of shaggy black hair emerging from the window. 

 What the fuck? 

 You try not to gawk as he attempts to shove some semblance of the balcony’s bottle collection into a trash bag, but you can’t help yourself. His eyes snap up and meet yours with an icy stare. Unable to say anything, you opt for continuing to drag your dresser hurriedly up the steps.

 On your way back down, you try to ignore whatever was happening on the third floor, hoping the man had given up and gone back inside. Trotting hurriedly to your truck, you steal a glance back up at the third floor balcony and realize the intimidating guy collecting trash isn’t alone anymore. At his side is a tall, giraffey figure leaning against the railing and puffing on a cigarette. His hair is shaggy and dark like the other man’s, but it shines more of a chestnut brown in the sunshine. With an amused grin, the tall stranger waves at you.

 Brushing the wild hairs away from your face, you try to wave back and appear calm and collected. Unfortunately, it doesn’t stop the heat rising to your cheeks as you wonder how long they had been watching you move in for. Rubbing your dirty hands against your denim cutoffs, you decide you would have to get over it if you want to get moved in sometime today. To your chagrin, you realize all you have left is your couch and mattress. Getting them in by yourself was such a bitch that you knew getting them out could only be worse.

 Having your neighbors watching you certainly doesn’t help either.  

 Oh fuck me, you groan internally as you start tugging the edge of the couch out of the truck bed. You are just starting to break a sweat when you hear a voice calling out to you from above.

“Wait–! Let me help you with that!”

 You look up, surprised to see the gangly boy from the third floor balcony scrambling down the stairs. He approaches you, practically tripping over his own feet as his long legs strain against his tight jeans.

 You take in the sight of him, noticing his orange tee is just a little too short for the length of his torso, while his jeans clung to his legs like a second skin. You find it unusual that he has a studded belt wrapped around his waist, considering the fact that his jeans clearly fit him a little too well. That is, until you notice a pair of drumsticks nestled in between the denim and the studs. 

 Weird.

 “Uh…hey.” You greet him, stupidly. Being used to doing everything yourself, people offering their help always felt awkward. Especially when hot neighbors were involved.

 “Hey,” despite your awkwardness, he still has a dumb grin plastered across his face, “I’m Tommy!”. Immediately your neighbor starts to grab for your couch, sliding it out of the bed and towards the ground with ease.

 “I’m Y/N, thanks for offering to help, but you really don’t have to do that.”

 Tommy laughs, “Oh please, as if a tiny thing like you can get this all by yourself. Why don’t you just grab an end?”

 You raise an eyebrow, trying to hide the smile that was dancing on your lips. You certainly weren’t the tiniest person you knew, but you figure a guy as tall as him probably thought everyone was small.

 “So, you live on the third floor?” You try to make small talk as you lift the opposite end, letting Tommy take the lead.

“Yeah, dude! That’s where me and my band live. Pretty sweet, huh?”

 “Call me crazy, but I’m pretty sure I’m your new upstairs neighbor,” you laugh, trying to control your breathing as you and Tommy heave the couch up the steps.

 “That’s so sick!” You two had literally just met, and yet Tommy seemed genuinely excited by the news. “I really hope you like parties, Y/N, because we have the best ones.”

 Mentally connecting the dots, you felt silly when you realized that Tommy’s seemingly ransacked apartment was all just the aftermath of some rager.

 “Yeah, maybe I’ll come check it out sometime.”

 Before you knew it, Tommy is already pushing open your front door and sliding the couch inside. Tommy looks over at you, not the least bit out of breath.

 “So, what’s left?” he asks, eager as ever. This time you don’t hide your smile.

 “Uh, I think it’s just the mattress.”

 “Sweet, I’ll be right back, Y/N.” Tommy brushes past you, already galloping down the stairs. His energy was already a lot to keep up with, and you begin to wonder if he ever had an off switch.

 He’s not really going to get the mattress by himself, is he? You run out toward the balcony, and, just as you suspected, your brand new neighbor is already on his way over, dragging your mattress in tow. You may have come all the way to L.A. from a small town, but you never imagined anyone in the city would be this nice to you.

 There is a courtesy knock at the door as Tommy finally arrives with your mattress. He doesn’t even give you enough time to wipe the stupid smile off of your face before he’s already inside and dragging it towards your empty bedroom. You can’t help but let your gaze linger on Tommy as he drags the mattress past you, his shirt tightening around the muscle of his lean arms is enough to make your mouth run dry. 

 “Hey, Y/N is it okay if I set the mattress here?”

 Tommy’s voice snaps you back into reality. Realizing he probably caught you staring, you wander over to the mattress and give it an absent-minded kick with the toe of your boot.. “Oh, um, yeah Tommy that’s perfect there.”

 Tommy had shoved the mattress up against the window, and honestly you couldn’t see the point in moving it. Grinning triumphantly, Tommy points to you with a large hand. 

 “So I see you like to rock, too.”

 It took you a moment to realize he was pointing at your raggedy t-shirt. You glance down, nearly forgetting what you were wearing, only to realize you had put on your old Black Sabbath shirt that morning. 

 You laugh, “Oh this thing? Yeah, I guess you could say that. I actually came to L.A. to study music.”

 “Wait, you can study music?! That’s sick as fuck!”

 “Yeah man, you totally can.” You don’t want to admit it, but having your major validated by some cute guy you just met felt pretty good. “Although, I reckon you don’t need to study music considering you play it and all. What is it that you said you played?”

 With a swift flick of his wrist, Tommy pulls one of the drum sticks out from his belt loop and begins to twirl between his fingers at an impressive speed. “Drums, dude! Been playing since I was a kid.”

 Your mouth fell open, “Where on earth did you learn to do that?”

“Honestly? High school marching band– but at this point I think it’s safe to say I’m just good with my hands.” He winks directly at you, slapping your shoulder playfully with his free hand. 

 You blush bright red immediately and giggle nervously in response. Less than an hour with this guy and you were already getting the sense that he was going to be major trouble for you if he didn’t stop being so…friendly. You stop your mind before it was able to get ahead of itself. Yeah that was it, he was obviously just being friendly.

 “Well it was really great to meet you,” you attempt to draw the conversation to a friendly close, realizing you were becoming way too flustered and had way too much work left to do. “And seriously, Tommy, thanks so much for helping out. I definitely owe you one.” 

 To your relief, Tommy starts to head toward the front door. “It’s no problem, dude. Honest. I’ve been waiting to find someone to hang with besides those losers downstairs.” He’s just about to turn the doorknob to leave when, suddenly he spins around in a jolt of energy.

 “Wait, me and the boys are actually having another party tonight if you’d wanna stop by?” Tommy’s eyes are wide and full of hope as he waits for your reply. You really wish you could, but with the amount of unpacking you had to do you, there was no way you could justify going to a party on your first night. 

 “Sorry, Tommy, I really wish I could, but I still have so much shit to do.” You gesture to the piles of boxes for emphasis. Sure, you hadn’t brought much, but you still had to run to the store if the apartment was ever going to look anywhere close to home by that night.

 Tommy’s shoulders slump a little at your rejection, but he still keeps a soft smile on his lips. “Well, that’s okay. I guess I’ll just have to come up and bug you some other time. You know, be neighborly and all.” 

You find the confidence to nudge his arm, “You do that, drummer boy.”

“Will do, see ya later, Y/N!” Just like that, Tommy practically bounces out of your front door and begins bounding down the stairs to his own apartment. 

 You shake your head, smiling to yourself and wondering just what in the hell you had gotten yourself into. Reluctantly, you turn around to face the small piles of your stuff scattered about the apartment. You decide that it’s probably better to go to the store and come back to unpack later.

 It was going to be a long night, but there was nothing that a good old fashioned bottle of wine couldn’t fix.

 Later that night, you busy yourself with sprucing up the kitchen. With a glass of wine in hand, and a half empty pizza box on your newly-assembled dining room table, you find that unpacking is actually going rather well for a change. For a moment, you think that maybe you have Tommy’s unexpected helping hands and adorable smile to thank for that, but you quickly dismiss the thought as just the wine talking.

 As it turns out, Tommy wasn’t lying about the grandness of his band’s parties. All night you could hear people of nearly all ages hooping and hollering like there was no tomorrow. You could even feel the vibration of music beneath your feet, but it wasn’t anything you couldn’t put up with.  

 You are just about to go and pour another glass of wine, when a frantic knock pounds at your door. Confused, you opt to ignore it, thinking it’s probably just a drunk party-goer mistaking your apartment for Tommy’s. Still, something doesn’t feel right. You stand up, slowly setting down your glass and slowly making your way over to the door.

 “Hey, Y/N!” Someone calls to you from the other side of the door, strangely the voice is familiar. They’re still knocking. but this time it sounds more frantic. “It’s me, Tommy! Open up, I need your help!”

 You rush over to the door, swinging it open to find your neighbor looking nervous and pale. You look down and notice that he’s clutching his right hand protectively, keeping a crimson soaked towel wrapped tightly around it. Mouth hanging open, you realize quickly that he’s bleeding.  

 “Oh my god, Tommy, what did you do to your hand?”  

 You step aside, allowing Tommy to push past you and come inside. “Well, uh, it’s kind of a long story, but basically Nikki–that’s my bass player–he bet me that I wouldn’t be able to smash a bottle on my head, so obviously I had to prove him wrong…but, uh, something went wrong and when the bottle shattered, it cut my hand open…”

 Tommy trailed off, looking at the floor like a child about to be scolded by their mother. His rambling made it very clear to you that he was pretty drunk, so you would have to choose your next words carefully.

 “Um, Tommy, do you think you could come over to the sink and show me how bad it is?” You stepped into the kitchen and Tommy followed in suit, still refusing to let his eyes meet yours.

 Gently, you place a hand on his forearm and guide it over the sink. With how red the towel is from Tommy’s blood, there was no telling what it was going to be like when you unwrapped it.

 “Tommy, do you want to unwrap the towel or do I need to do it?” Your voice comes out calm and steady, but on the inside your stomach is tying itself into a million anxious knots. 

 “Could…um, could you?” Tommy’s voice is suddenly small and distant compared to how it was at the door. You can feel your heart soften at the sound.

 Gingerly, and somewhat reluctantly, you take his injured hand and begin unravelling Tommy’s makeshift bandage. Although his hand remains steady under your touch, you could feel Tommy’s upper body pull away. It almost seems like Tommy is afraid to see the damage. 

 The towel falls to the bottom the sink with a wet thud, and you can’t help but take in a sharp breath at the sight of Tommy’s hand. In the center of his palm is a deep gash with blood pooling in the center.

 “Oh god, Tommy. I think you may have to go to the hospital for this, look I could drive you–” You start to say, and immediately he pulls his hand away from yours. You look up, shocked as his eyes finally meet yours. He doesn’t look angry, but afraid, and you can feel your heart break just a little. 

 “Y/N, please, no–no doctors. I can’t go to the doctor I…” Tommy trails off, his face now paler than before and you worry he’s might be at risk of fainting.

 Gripping both of his arms firmly, you hold his distressed gaze and speak as gently as possible. “Tommy, hey, listen to me, okay? I’ll do what I can. I won’t make you go to the doctor if you don’t want to.” 

 If you were to be honest with yourself, you know it would be so much better if he would just go to the doctor, but you doubt your ability to get Tommy to a hospital safely in his drunken stupor. With a weary sigh, you beckon for Tommy to follow you to the bathroom. Luckily, you had bought a roll of bandages at the store today, but you certainly hadn’t expected to use them so soon.

 You grab the roll of bandages and a washcloth from under the sink and turn to face Tommy. “Now, listen. I’m going to rinse off your hand and then you’re going to sit down over there so I can bandage it up, okay?” You gesture over to the toilet seat, praying Tommy doesn’t notice the slight tremor of your hand.

 He doesn’t, or maybe he doesn’t care. Instead, he gives you his leaking hand once more, head hanging low in embarrassment. You turn on the tap and slowly bring his hand underneath the cool water. Tommy lets out a hiss of pain as the blood runs pink down the drain, but otherwise remains perfectly still.

 Once the water finally runs across the gash with minimal blood following with it, you decide it’s safe to wrap up again.

 “Alright, drummer boy, I’m going to need you to take a seat.” As Tommy sits down on the toilet seat, you’re shocked to find that, even sitting down, he’s still nearly as tall you are. You take his injured hand once more and begin methodically wrapping it, hoping to god that it’s tight enough to last the night.

 Just as you’re finishing up, you look up at Tommy to find him staring intently at you. You quickly avert your eyes, reminding yourself that he’s just drunk and confused right now. Clipping the bandage in place, you pat the top of it delicately for good measure.

 “Well, Tommy, it looks like you’re all set.”

 You expect him to get up and leave, but he’s still staring at you just as intently as before– like you’re the only person on the planet.

 To your surprise, Tommy’s signature grin returns to his face as if it had never left. 

 “Has anyone ever told you that you’re beautiful?”  

Part Two

Masterlist 

[ichaisme]

The ink demonth day 14- Theories

Norman always watched, far more than people gave him credit for, even those who had seen him ‘skulk about’. At the same time, he wasn’t a gossip. The knowledge he accumulated stayed within the confines of his mind, for the privacy of others and for the sake of his reputation.

Still.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t form a few… theories; just little things you couldn’t help but pick up (not that he judged).

Samuel Lawrence was the sad harborer of two ill-fated crushes. The first was on the former animator and co-founder of the studio, Henry. Considering the abrupt departure (courtesy of Mr. Drew), and the shadowy mentions of a girl named Linda, that did not pan out. Who did his feelings rebound to? The voice of Alice Angel herself, who had no interest in an office romance. At least… so she said. He questioned that resolve with every outside-of-work meeting she had with Joey Drew.

Tom was secretly a huge animal lover. He kept a photo of his dog and his wife in the breast pocket of his uniform. He’d never tell another soul, but he pampered that little ball of fur just as much as he did Allison.

Wally…

Well, he was hopelessly in love with a certain Irish toymaker.

Honestly that wasn’t too hard to decipher. When the pair were together you could barely hear yourself think anywhere near Heavenly Toys over the sound of their laughter and conversations egged on in a way only two equally loud personalities could. It irked Joey to no end, but when cleaning still happened and toys kept being made, he had little to complain about beyond volume.

However, in the rare quiet moments, Norman noticed just a bit more—lingering glanced when the two had to part, delight that was just a bit stronger around Shawn than anyone else, smiles wider and yet softer at the same time. He was certain something was there.

But nothing beats physical proof.

---

Norman made his way through the darkened halls of the studio, back to his projector booth. Frequent trips to the studio for early hours troubleshooting meant Joey was forced to give him his own set of keys. The only other person to have a set was, of course, the ever-forgetful janitor.

Even knowing this, it surprised him to catch movement out of the corner of his eye. Wally slipped out of one of the lesser-used closets, locking the door behind him. Norman raised a brow. Wally was never that careful. He doubted the young man had suddenly learned the virtue of caution. Something was in there that he didn’t want anyone else to stumble upon. Obviously, Norman had to find out what it was.

Where the old projectionist’s keyring only got him into the building, Wally’s had extras required for his duties; he’d need access to them. Not a hard thing to accomplish, thankfully. He just waited until he heard the janitor leave the studio, then looked around where the man did his rounds. Sure enough, he found the keys partially under Henry’s old desk. The poor boy really needed to hold his keys more securely… but he could confront him on that later (and perhaps he’d be more receptive to a gentler reprimand rather than Sammy’s frustrated yelling). For now, he took the keys to the door he’d locked, and opened it to find…

A mini work station.

It took him a moment to pick his jaw up off the floor. How had something like this escaped HIS notice?! Curiosity easily overwhelmed him, and he stepped in to the little room to see what exactly Wally had been doing. The table sat littered with papers.

Papers containing drawings.

Norman hadn’t pinned Wally for the artistic type. While the art was quite good, it was clearly learned elsewhere, leaning towards semi-realism rather than the cartoons that surrounded them. As he looked further, he started to notice a pattern of subjects. A few renditions of Henry were lovingly pinned to the wall just above the desk. Some contained Allison or Susie, and he even spotted one sketch of him amongst all the others (the faithful rendition honestly impressed him). One person, however, stood head and shoulders above the rest: A good majority of the pictures were of Shawn. Each and every one was lovingly rendered, and on the back, Wally had written captions, tiny notes of the date it was drawn and a signature ‘W.F.’ in the corner.

Well.

It seemed VERY obvious to him that the pair were far closer than friends, but neither seemed willing to take the first plunge. They needed a nudge in the right direction.

And Norman was more than willing to provide that push.

He scanned over the drawings, finally settling on a fairly recent sketch simply captioned ‘Shawn’s smile’. As he left, he relocked the door and tossed the keys into one of the wastebaskets, easily spotted for Wally’s return. The drawing he tucked under one of the plush dolls on Shawn’s workbench. Now, all he had to do was wait.

---

When Wally returned the next morning, he approached Norman elbow-deep in his projector with a sheepish look on his face.

“Heeeey, uh… can I… borrow your keys?” He asked carefully, trying and failing to sound nonchalant. “I—”

“Lost yours?” The projectionist barely glanced his way, totally deadpan.

“Well… sort of. I can find them, I swear! I Just want it to look like I have mine while I find them, so Sammy doesn’t yell at me.”

Oh, he couldn’t resist. “Lost mine too.” Norman took a moment to savor Wally’s gasp and the shocked expression on his face, before he began to quietly chuckle.

“Oh! That was a joke! You… you were joking.” Wally nervously chuckled with him. He jerked a thumb back towards his desk, where his keys sat.

“Have you checked the trash yet? They seem to fall in those wastebaskets quite a lot,” he asked, watching the janitor snatch up the keys and shove them into his pocket.

“I’ll check! Thank you, Mr. Polk, I owe ya one!” As he ran out, Norman called after him,

“Make that ‘one’ be you giving those back!”

---

Norman heard Shawn long before he saw the two collide. They were a two-person chorus of excited voices and uproarious laughter on any given today, but Shawn spoke just a bit faster, voice just a bit higher, enough for Wally to take notice too.

“You’re so excited!” he laughed. “You got some good news?”

Shawn beamed, holding up the drawing, “You sly bastard, I didn’t know you could draw!”

Silence answered. The smile slid off Wally’s face, eyes widening and face flushing, making it impossible to deny his shock and embarrassment. Norman briefly felt bad for him. “H-how did you get that?”

Norman could read the man like a book, could almost hear him swear up and down internally that he’d locked the door, wondering if Shawn had found the room and if he even liked what he’d seen. Shawn, on the other hand, just looked confused.

“You didn’t leave this on my bench?”

“NO!”

He glanced at the drawing again, brow furrowing in thought. “Well… who cares? I like it a lot!”

“You… you do?”

Shawn nodded enthusiastically. “I mean, you can’t help but be flattered when someone draws you, right?” he chuckled, “What made you decide to use me as a muse?”

“U-uh…” Shawn just watched the janitor expectantly. When Wally spoke again, his voice had gone up another notch, “Hey, uh… you hear that?”

“No—”

“Sammy’s REALLY not happy with me, I lost my keys again, and uh, I’m outta here!” He practically broke into a sprint, disappearing down the hall and up the stairs. The toymaker stared after him in confusion.

Norman heaved a quiet sigh. Apparently, he’d been too subtle.

“Pretty sure he likes you.”

Shawn jumped at his voice suddenly breaking the silence, turning his dumbfounded gaze to the projectionist. “Well... yeah? I mean, we’re great friends.”

…He couldn’t help but break into raucous laughter, which did nothing but further Shawn’s confusion.

“You are dense, boy.”

Realization started to dawn on him then. “Wait, he—you mean he—?” Norman laughed again and nodded. “I… should go find him, shouldn’t I?”

“Seems like it.” At last he finally seemed to get Shawn to take the hint, running the way Wally had left.

Forget shoves, apparently Norman had to tie a rock around them and shove them into the metaphorical lake to get a point to stick.