#it's a cheap one from walmart but STILL

[taleweaver-ramblings]

I have decided to become the type of person who wears hats.

[rossothelioma]

fuck your favorite burner.

^ if you are unaware of the many beautiful knife breeds here's reference

[miss-floral-thief]

Oof think my headband came off under my hat oh well

[greenglowinspooks]

Thinkin about a DCxDP where Danny’s helping ghosts find peace while he’s laying low in Gotham.

Like, he moved away from Amity for whatever reason. Maybe the reveal went badly, maybe he just couldn’t stand staying any longer. For whatever reason, he’s in Gotham, because the rent is cheap and he’s nowhere near the strangest thing there so no one looks at him twice.

However, this city is cursed. Like, cursed beyond cursed. It’s actively alive with how many curses there are, and the ghosts there are extremely unhappy about it.

(Of course, that’s not a problem for Danny. His ghost side filters out the toxic smog and the chemicals in the water, and his human side gives a resistance to the rank ecto and the hexes that are actively trying to devour him.)

He doesn’t really want to do anything about it, to be honest.

He’s sick of playing hero, considering how it went last time, and he’s busy working at Waffle House or Walmart or whatever other store doesn’t bother doing a background check (in Gotham, that’s probably all of them), and maybe trying to find a way to get highschool credits that don’t immediately disqualify him from every college in existence.

Still, the ghosts know he can hear them. They know, and they keep coming for help.

So, hey, why not? He definitely can’t put this as experience in any sort of job application, but he really doesn’t have much else to do.

So, he becomes errand boy for a bunch of ghosts.

Sometimes he’s finding objects that are important to them, sometimes he’s giving evidence they collected together of their murders to the police, sometimes he’s getting them the last meal they never had, sometimes he’s just spending time with them like they’re not dead.

The ghosts don’t always move on, but they’re always more at peace. Occasionally they pay him back in charms and blessings and the locations of valuables that he can keep or pawn for cash.

Eventually, a new ghost shows up.

She looks like a shadow, like all the ghosts of Gotham, but she seems stronger than usual. She asks him for a favor that those who came before him were never able to fulfill.

She asks him to find her engagement ring, and give it to her son.

Easy enough, he thinks. It’s a bit of a pain to buy the ring from the seedy pawn shop it’s in (he would usually just steal it, but he doesn’t want to implicate her kid in anything, which she seems grateful for), but everything’s going mostly alright.

Then, she tells him who her son is, and wow, no wonder no one’s helped her yet.

He’s Red Hood. The guy who is(/was) the crime lord in charge of crime alley. The title sounds a bit stupid to Danny, but he’s still a genuine threat to a living person.

Good thing he’s not one of those.

And so, the next time he sees Red Hood out and about, he goes right up to him. The man seems mostly unbothered, but Danny does notice how his hand slightly drifts towards one of his many weapons.

He tells Red Hood outright that he’s there on behalf of the man’s mother, then just holds out his hand with the ring inside, dropping it into Red Hood’s open palm.

Then he leaves, not waiting for a response.

—

Jason has a mystery on his hands, and he might just cash in some favors from Babs and Tim to figure it out.

He’s got to find the guy who gave him his mother’s ring, and find out everything he knows.

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

The big tree helps block it but the storm blowing in from the north instead of the south helps more

[melynnwater]

the first physical object to break the laws of thermodynamics was invented by accident. a regular lithium ion battery that would never need to be recharged.

it was made by a mindless robot in a mindless factory. inserted into a cheap and durable mp3 player on June 5th, 2004.

the unassuming device was shipped to a walmart and bought as an 8 year old girl's birthday present. she happily filled it with mp3s her dad helped her download.

she never noticed the battery's unending lifespan, because she diligently charged it every night. on October 12th, 2004, she unplugged her headphones without pausing her music: Hillary Duff's self titled album, on repeat.

on October 13th, 2004, the device fell out of her pocket while she was swinging on a swingset. It landed in the mulch her dad put under the swingset to stop her from getting hurt. He loves her so much.

she never found the mp3 player. she cried and sobbed, and her mom bought her another one the next payday, October 21st, 2004. the little girl's second mp3 player would fully drain its battery 6 times before she stopped using it, on January 7th, 2007.

Hillary is still singing silently into the dirt, not even an output for the same 17 songs repeating only to the worms. a tulip patch was unknowingly planted over it. the girl died on March 19th, 2073, her wife knew it was coming, but mourned all the same. Hillary had the same repeated lyrics to say.

the last time this woman thought about Hillary Duff was on December 25th, 2056, while reminiscing about music she listened to in her youth with her wife. Hillary Duff was still singing for her as she brought her music up, even if the woman didn't know.

[totally-sick-blogger]

5 low energy activities for when you're feeling too unwell to get up but don't want to be on your phone.

Hi lovies!

I think that the title pretty much explains it. Still, I wanted to share 5 low-energy activities today because I know it can be really hard to find something to do when you're not feeling well but you've already been scrolling on your phone for hours. All of these are things that you can do from your bed, the couch, etc. and they are all very affordable!

Tip: If you're doing these in your bed (or somewhere else that doesn't have a good flat surface) you can use a cookie sheet/baking tray. If you don't already own a cookie sheet you can find them for really cheap at the dollar store or a second-hand store

colouring - this one is probably pretty obvious but I think it's a good one because it's pretty customizable. You can buy a colouring book from the dollar store or amazon or Walmart or wherever else. you could even find free printable colouring pages online. the same thing applies to markers/crayons etc. you probably already have some and if not you can get super cheap ones or super fancy ones.

2. crossword puzzles/word searches - I know these aren't for everyone but I love them and they're another thing that you can find paper copies of or online and you can buy a book of them or print them out yourself.

3. reading - This is another one that has lots of options for different price ranges and affordability. you can buy new books, or used books, borrow from a library, or do audiobooks or Ebooks instead. I know that some libraries have apps you can download with Ebooks and audiobooks that you can borrow as long as you have a library card.

4. bead crafts - I love making things with beads (particularly bracelets) because it's, easy, and requires no brain power. I'd also like to mention that if you have poor dexterity or fine motor skills (or want avoid eye strain) I recommend using pipe cleaners instead of string and using larger beads that are easier to pick up.

5. card games - If you have a friend, family member, or caregiver around you can play card games! they're fun, easy, you can do it laying down and there's tons of different games out there.

Bonus

6. This is bonus activity because it takes a bit more energy than the others but I always recommend finding a video essay or documentary on an interesting topic and taking notes and doing a deep dive on the subject!

that's all for today lovies, as always I hope this helps at least one person!

[thedeathwitchescats]

My collection of tips for people who are just now developing a chronic illness or just now realizing they have one. ((As someone who has only been struggling with mine for a little over a year))

-dont blame yourself for not being able to do what you used to. Your body used to do its job to a better degree than it does now. You are not lazy bc your taking more breaks or bc you cant get out of bed. Your taking care of yourself. I struggle with this all the time. Especially considering my living situation. Shit doesnt get done when I dont do it but I simply cant sometimes.

-that leads me into my next point. Take advantage of your good days, but dont overwork yourself just bc your "not feeling chronically ill." When you have the energy, start the laundry, do the dishes, take out the trash, but still take breaks as needed

-keep a set of your meds literally everywhere. I have a pill box I specifically keep in my car with a weeks worth of my morning meds. I have a three sets of my most important meds in my bag at all times. I have pain meds stashed in every crevasse they could be stashed. Trust me, when your running late and you get half way to work before you realize you havent taken your meds your gonna want to be able to reach into your glove box and take them rq

-buy the mobility aid. You think you need a brace bc a specific joint hurts like hell and wont stay in place?? Get it. You cant walk for long periods of time and think a cane would help?? Get it. You think a shower chair would do you good so you dont pass out with shampoo in your eyes and naked?? Get it. Just get it. Walmart sells canes for under ten bucks and they work really well. They also have extra tips in a two back for 2.50. Dollar tree has braces and like 12 different pain creams. Five below also has some braces and quite a few pain relief options. You can also get them cheap on sites like shein or Amazon and sometimes depop. ((I know I know, dont support those sites but a bitch is broke and two bucks for compression socks is a fucking steal)) You can also sometimes find wheelchairs and canes and crutches at goodwill. It isnt a guarantee but its a good option if you need smt cheap. ((Be careful and check that their not broken before you buy))

-take the pain meds. Put on the pain cream. Ice that joint. You dont get brownie points for toughing it out and it will help your health in the long run. If someone looks at you like your weak for taking smt to help with your pain, their the problem, not you.

-create a good support system. Find the people who will drop their brand new iced coffee to stop you from slamming your head into the ground during a fainting spell. They are out there. Find them and hold onto them for dear fucking life

-try to make the best of what you can do every day. Put on cute earrings. Buy cute compression socks. Get braces that fit your vibe. Put stickers on your mobility aids. Put pins on your bag. Carry a cute weighted stuffie for when you need some extra comfort. Make the most of what you are capable of doing.

[20dollarlolita]

If anyone is wondering, this tutorial to make this skirt is still a method that works. Both those links are from wayback machine captures from a time before Photobucket betraying us all and deleting pictures.

Yes, I'm still mad about that.

Anyway, in the spirit of seeing if budget lolita was still doable in 2023, here we go with a cost breakdown:

>Main skirt fabric was a $10 walmart 4-yard precut; enough fabric to make waist ties not pictured here >Skirt is fully lined with a polyester bedsheet I got for $1 at a surplus store >The bow lace was part of a bulk purchase, ended up costing 21cents a yard. Skirt probably has 6-8 yards of lace on it. The little vertical strips were scraps from another project. Back shirring on skirt is 1/4" elastic, which covid conveniently made super cheap. >I didn't have the zipper on hand, so I had to buy one for $1 at walmart. As anyone who has been on Wawak knows, that's massively overpaying for zippers.

This skirt is 3" longer and a few sizes larger than the one in the post. I had to make a new cutting layout for the skirt, and it took a fair bit of additional fabric. In addition, to save on fabric width, the "side seams" on this are actually a little bit farther back than the side of the skirt. I cut the back of the skirt to full fabric width, and then added the adjustment for the fullness into the side front pieces. Clarice, who wrote the original tutorial, mentions that the person she made it for was very small, so I sized it up a little bit.

I make sketches like this as I go for personal reference, but maybe it'll be helpful.

In the spirit of livejournal, I "clarified" my sketch by making it more confusing in GIMP. (Your pieces you need to cut will be back: 44"x19.5", cut 1. Side Front, 22"x19.5", cut 2. Center Front, 15"x25.5", cut 1. Frills, 5.5"x44", cut 9 or 10).

So, when we get into it, yeah, if you have a good design (or can copy a good design) and you're willing to put some time into it, you can still do a budget lolita skirt for under $20 of materials, if you're careful. I'm mostly making this post to save which archive.org captures are the ones with working pictures.

(It also helps if you don't mess up on the waistband so many times that it slowly shrinks into a 1" waistband.)

Fun fact: the trim on the ends of the waist ties may or may not be because I hemmed them sloppily and the hem came up bubbly, and zigzagging some lace onto the bottom handily covered up the bubbling. One of the advantages about knowing a decent amount about lolita fashion is that you can look at things and go, "Yeah, if I added x here, it'd be fine," and knowing enough about sewing to go, "yeah, if I do x cheat here, it'll look better" and being able to put the two together and go, "hey, if I cheat here, it'll still look lolita!" It's a good feeling.

Anyway, if anyone else has ever used Clarice's tutorial to make a skirt, I'd love to see it! This is my second time using it, but the last time was almost a decade ago at this point, and I think I've improved a lot since then.

[ratlikeclown]

WIP Wolverine x femReader 18+

“God, do you ever suck on anything other than Wade’s dick and cheap cigars?”

He leaned in close to your ear and growled,

“Ya lookin to find out Princess?”

x Deadpool kinda eventually lmfaoooo

FemY/n is mid 20’s - early 30’s

Tw for depression and like drug use mentions ig

🌶️🫵

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hello 👋 This is the first fanfic that I have written in over 10 years the brain rot is so unbelievably real for wolverine and deadpool rn

its a little embarrassing tbh lmfaoo

—————————

I’m not really sure how to tag this tbh. I’ve never posted on tumblr. . It’s a little spicy and will get more interesting later. I just wanted to toss this small part out for readers to test the waters. Anyway um I’m not experienced writing y/n pov so please be nice.

Your friend, Wade Wilson, couldn’t take no for an answer. You knew that and yet you still had the audacity to tell him ‘no’ three times tonight. And about thirty minutes after you ignored his last phone call there he was, practically knocking down your door. It wasn’t like he couldn’t actually kick in your door, he was just being polite. 

The apartment buzzer went off. You sat up from your position on the couch, hoping he’d just give up and leave if you didn’t acknowledge him. Like a stray cat. Or a crackhead.

“Knock knock~” you heard his voice through the door. “I smell Hot Pockets and sadness I know you’re in there”

Gripping the arm of the sofa you waited hoping he’d have the common courtesy fuck off .You heard the door knob rattle. Dumbass.

With a click of the lock, your door swung open revealing Wade, grinning as he shoved his Baby Knife back into his coat.

“Wade, what the fuck? I told you-“

He clapped his hands loudly, interrupting you.

 “Let’s go Funshine Bear, the nights young and I’m not going anywhere without you” Wade marched past you, straight to your bedroom humming to himself.

“You look awful by the way, we’ll fix you up though.” He clicked his tongue and crooked a finger in your direction. You huffed angrily, sliding off the couch to follow him. 

You stopped in the doorway, almost refusing to step inside. He was elbows deep in your closet drawers, throwing clothes onto your bed, muttering his disapproval at every item he tossed.

You crossed your arms as you watched him. 

“Do you have anything that doesn’t look like you took it from the Walmart dumpster?” He pulled a drawer out from the dresser and dumped it on the floor. “You know the one I’m talking about, right? Where all the coke addicted bronies go to have a bone sess before band practice.”

You crossed your arms as you watched him. “Wade, I’m not in the mood to go out.”

You heard him sigh, but continued to riffle through your things. 

“That’s nonsense, the plot can’t continue with out you. Annnd we made these plans last week.”

He peeked at you from behind the open closet door. “I’m a little worried about you. You aren’t your chipper self lately”

“I’m just tired” You replied dismissively.

It wasn’t like Wade hasn’t been trying to cheer you up in his own way. For the last few weeks he’d text you obscure and quite frankly disturbing memes at 3 AM. Excitedly offer you drugs that he’s pilfered from the his blind roommate- (he knows you don’t do drugs, he just wanted to brag about stealing coke from Blind Al)

He’s also been sending you the strangest X-Men fan fiction. (His favorites were ‘old man yaoi’ including Professor Xavier and Magneto) Usually you eat that kind of stuff up, finding it funny that you knew some of the people that the fanfiction was written about, like a private joke between you and Deadpool. But worst thing he’s done has beencalling you almost every day and attempting to make plans with you, but you always seem to cancel last minute. So yeah, he has been trying. It just.. didn’t help.

Your eyes flickered to your wall of photos next to the closet door.  Pictures of your closest friends and family. Their arms around you laughing, smiling. Pictures of trips and silly outings that meant the world to you. You felt so much guilt and regret looking at them.

Depression was a bitch. It was like a rabid dog that wouldn’t let you get back on your feet. You felt it gnawing at you, causing you to lose interest in everyone and everything. You felt alone. Your eyes fell back to Wade, you watched your friend hard at work trying to match your shoes with a dress he had found. He was clueless. You couldn’t tell him any of this though, it would just make him worry more.

There was someone you did want to talk to though. To tell everything to. Someone that you had grown so close to the last few months.

You missed Logan.

This realization caused your face to heat and anxiety weld up in your chest. You balled your hands into fits thinking about that arrogant jerk. You’ve tried to be a friend to Wolverine. After all this wasn’t his reality. He was your timeline’s replacement. (Idk you should go watch the movie. I’m not explaining it.) and for a while, you thought you were friends.

Lately, if he wasn’t drunk and depressingly moody, he was angry and a massive dick. 

“Y/N? Look a little pink at the cheeks are you feeling OK?” Wade was now standing less than a foot from you, his brows furrowed. You hadn’t noticed him move.

Snapping back from your thoughts by Wades voice, you ran hands over your face as you turn towards the attached bathroom.

“Dude, I told you I’m just not feeling good-” You stepped into the bathroom and turned on the faucet “I don’t wanna hang out with-“

“Logan?”

“Your friends.” You finished. You felt your face flush deeper at his name being mentioned.

“That’s what I said” Wade followed you to the bathroom, but thankfully didn’t come in. He stood outside while you closed the door. 

“Trust me honey, I know he’s the embodiment of a sentient happiness starved cactus whose father never loved him but-“

You groaned, trying to avoid Wades ramblings you turned the water on full blast, drowning out the remainder of his sentence. You splashed water on your face and ran a comb through your hair. You heard Wade continue talking, almost to himself while also sounding like he was talking to someone else in the room  as well. Someone you couldn’t see. He did that often. It was creepy.

You swung the door open frowning.

“-sometimes he stabs me through the face to shut me up, but I know he does it because he’s not good with words.”

Wade smile faded when he saw your face. 

“It’s kinda hot”

“I don’t want to talk about it Wade.” You sat down onto your bed with a huff despite the pile of clothes and plastic hangers. You stared at your hands. You felt the overwhelming weight of your anxiety in your chest and stomach. Maybe you should go out. Maybe he won’t show up tonight. Maybe-

“You look like you wanna talk about it Friendo.”

Wade joined you by dramatically pushing all the clothes off the bed, making an even bigger mess of your room. He flopped down onto your bed stomach first, propping himself up by his elbows. He kicked his feet and smiled at you.

“I’m all ears.”

“I don’t know how to start” You admitted.

“Start with an ‘I feel’ statement” 

Another sigh escaped your mouth. How did you feel? It felt complicated. You met him a few months ago. At first he was rude and closed off. Then he slowly began to open up, sure you still bickered and fought like cats, but it had playful undertones. (‘Sexy undertones’ Wade had joked) When he was being genuine and open, it felt like you could talk to him for hours. Though he never spoke for too long, he would to listen to you earnestly. Up until a few weeks ago, that is.

“I feel like Logan hates me. I feel like he would rather huff paint thinner than have a decent conversation with me.”

Wade laughed. “Well that’s not true, I can’t get him to huff anything.”

You shot him a look.

“Listen, I invite Mr. Grumpy out every time. But he’s too busy sulking to get fucked up with us. He would rather get drunk and pass out in the floor of the apartment. He probably won’t even show up.” Wade gave you a reassuring look.

“If he does you’re gonna be there with me. We’ll leave if you feel uncomfortable at all.”

He rolled over and sat up, putting an arm around you.

“I’ve just noticed your mood lately I need you to know that I love you.” He gave your shoulder a squeeze.  “-and I miss getting fucked up with you.”

“Will you stab him for me if he’s mean?”

“Of course. I always have Baby Knife on me.”

“Fine. Let me get ready”

He jumped off the bed excitedly.

You pushed Wade out the door to get dressed, pausing in the doorway. “Wade?”

“Yes Friendo?” He turned on his heel

“I love you too bud”

He squealed as you closed the door.

~~~

You never understood why Wade wouldn’t just buy a car. He makes decent money (he doesn’t) and could probably afford a nice one. (He couldn’t) At one point you recall him having a weird hyperfixation with the Honda Odyssey (he fucked Wolverine in one) (allegedly)

Instead, you were climbing into the back of a dirty beat up taxi cab that his friend, Dopinder, drove for a living. At least you didn’t have to walk. Dopinder was a sweet guy, if not a little unhinged every once in a while. 

“You look quite beautiful tonight Miss Y/N” He complimented you as you settled in the back seat. You smiled at him, appreciating the comment. Wade had picked out your dress and you felt a little exposed and out of your element in it. It wasn’t anything crazy, just a slick black dress with a low neck line. The dress was short, ending a little above the knee. The problem was the slit up the side. You wanted to wear tights under the outfit but Wade insisted on fishnets. ‘You look like a goth baddie’  he had assured you, ‘Like a Hot Topic clearance rack version of Morticia Addams.’

Wade hopped in the front and immediately started to flip through the radio channels. Dopinder usually had on pleasant sounding Indian pop music but Wade settled on some heavily censored 90’s hip hop. 

The drive was rocky. Wade, who almost never kept his hands to himself, would grab poor  Dopinder while dancing along to the music causing the cab to swerve. A lot.

Having made it to the bar in one piece, you quickly scrambled out of the back, thanking the young man for the ride. 

Wade waited for you at the door.

~~~

The bar was loud and dark. One of those typical bars you see in movies, filled with moving bodies and cigarette smoke. Music pumped through the speakers with some people lingering near the bar while others swayed on the dance floor. Wade bounced through the crowd pulling you along towards the bar, where his group of friends took up half the bar area. You scanned the crowd nervously. No Logan. Your muscles relaxed, and you moved with a little more energy.

Wade greeted his friends with various enthusiastic greetings and crude gestures. You smiled in greeting and waved at a friend you recognized but sat down on a stool next to where Wade stood, him blocking you from most of the other bar patrons. There was a part of you that was a little disappointed that Logan wasn’t here. It made sense if he didn’t show up here, this bar was honestly more like a club, upbeat and energetic. He’s used to dark depressing dive bars, places you can drink yourself into a coma and not be bothered. But the few times he had shown up here you had thought that he enjoyed your company, for a little while at least. During times when the others were off doing dubious shit somewhere, he’d sit with you at the bar. You even managed to get him to dance with you once. That all changed recently. Something happened that caused him to be distant and often rude for seemingly no reason.

Everyone seems to be so happy to see Wade and he, them. You didn’t really know why you were here. It already felt overwhelming. You used to love coming here. Drinking and dancing, playing pool badly and belting out shitty country music karaoke with everyone. Lately, things have felt different. You’ve lost interest in a lot of the things you use to enjoy, spending your days just working and rotting in your apartment. This was too much.

Wade touched your shoulder causing you to jump.

“Hey we’re off to play some darts you in?” 

You smiled at your friend. “You really wouldn’t want me to play, you’d end up as the dart board.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time Sweetheart” Wade laughed, “we’ll be over there if you change your mind.” He made a heart with his hands and turned toward the group already making their way to the play area.

You sat quietly at the counter with a glass of something sweet and strong. You wanted to feel a buzz but you needed it to taste good. Your eyes scanned the crowd, people watching. You watched people dance and sway to the newest Kesha song blaring through the speakers. You witnessed a near fight over a pool game. You heard Wade’s laughter from across the room, his friends echoing along. You felt alone. It was your fault you told yourself. If you wanted to feel better you would’ve gotten up and joined your friends. But here you sat, being miserable on purpose. 

“Hey beautiful, mind if I joined you?” Your head snapped up meeting the face of someone you didn’t recognize. He was good looking, in a vanilla frat boy kinda way. With his backwards hat, sleeveless tank, skinny jeans and all.

But he smiled like a wolf.

“I’m sorry.” You tried to smile politely, but you had a twinge of anxiety growing in your chest. “I’m not really in the mood for company” 

The man smiled motioning to the bartender for a drink. “Can’t I just buy you a drink? “

“Really, I’m fine” You turned back to your drink, your eyes unfocused, hoping that if you just ignored him he’d leave. Your gut flipped when you heard him pull out the stool next to you. He wasn’t leaving.

“Come on babe, I can show you a good time”

“She said she ain’t looking for company bub.” A low voice growled behind you. A beer bottle came down heavily in between you and the creep. Your eyes trailed the hairy but beautifully sculpted arm to its owner, though you already knew who it belonged to. Logan. Even in this lighting you could see his rugged face. His hair was styled in its iconic cat ear shape. His beard was trimmed nicely combined with his thick muttonchops. His eyes were a little hazy but beautiful and dark. You met those eyes for a brief moment, he smirked at you before his gaze flickered to the other man.

 “Well?” He rumbled, barring his teeth.

“Naw, I was here first grandpa, you fuck off.” The frat guy stood up straight, trying to look intimidating.

“Trust me” Logan chuckled. He straightened cracking his knuckles before raising his fists and extending three razor sharp Adamantium claws from each hand.

“You don’t want none of this”

~~~

“You didn’t have to do that” you looked down at your glass avoiding Logan’s gaze. You heard him land heavily in the bar stool next to you. He tapped the counter signaling the bartender who was very clearly avoiding your side of the bar.

“I wasn’t going to have some limp dick creeping on you.”

“I was handling it” 

“You didn’t seem like you were handling anything Princess.” He scoffed.

You shot him a look. He smirked as he chugged his remaining beer, you couldn’t help watch his throat bob as he drank. He finished and loudly set the bottle down. He met your eyes and you looked away feeling your face heat violently.

“You thirsty princess?” He asked as the bartender set down two shots of something before scurrying away. He slid one glass your way.

“No thank you. I have my own drink”

You pushed the glass back his way. He eyed your almost empty cocktail and shrugged.

“Suit yourself” he took the glasses and knocked back both shots simultaneously slamming the glasses back down. After a few moments of silence, where you clearly felt Logan eyeing you the entire time, you sighed.

“I didn’t think I’d see you tonight Logan.” You admitted. Another beer had appeared in front of him, he took a swig. He eyed you, his eyes slowly trailing from your face down your body. They rested at the slit in your dress, exposing most of your fishnet covered thigh. You felt a ping in your lower belly, causing you to cross your legs uncomfortably. His eyes followed to movement. He licked his lips and met your eyes again smirking.

“Why didja miss me?”

You looked down at the growing piles of shredded napkins you had been anxiously ripping apart. 

“Yes” you said at last. There was no point in lying. You did miss him. Even seeing him now, clearly drinking away his problems, you couldn’t help but feel glad he was there with you. You were glad he scared away that creep, despite his now passive aggressive demeanor. You met his eyes again.

He snorted and tipped the beer to his lips.“You’re a fucking liar”

You felt your gut squeeze with anger. Why was he treating you this way? You didn’t ask him to step in to a play hero. You didn’t ask him for anything. You just wanted to get out of your shitty apartment for one goddamn night. You balled your fists and spun to face him fully.

“What. The. Fuck.” You clenched your teeth annunciating each word bitterly. “Is. YOUR PROBLEM”

“My PROBLEM,” he practically spat the word,

”is that I have to deal with your moody ass attracting the eye of every fucking creep in this place when you very fucking clearly don’t want to be here.” 

You threw your hands up angrily and gestured around the bar. 

“I didn’t want to deal with any of this Logan. I just wanted to go out with my FRIENDS, which I used to think you were one. I don’t fucking know what prick you had up your ass lately, but you sure as hell don’t act like you like me. WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?”

He was silent for a moment, studying your face, making it turn even redder. Then he laughed. He shook his head laughing and sloppily chugged his second beer.

You had enough. You needed to get away from him. You shoved yourself back, tipping the stool over in the process.

“Come find me when you figure out what you want.” You turned to leave. You made it a few steps before you heard Logan’s voice call mockingly.

“Nice dress by the way” 

You didn’t turn to look at him.

“Fuck you, Logan”

~~~

You ran your hands under cold water, leaning over the sink you splashed the water into your face and sighed. You looked into your mirrored face. This was a disaster.

Maybe if you just stayed in the bathroom you can avoid everyone until Wade was ready to leave. You felt bad that you ran off instead of finding him. You would’ve felt safe with Wade.

Your head was swimming, from the alcohol or the interaction with Logan you couldn’t tell.

The speaker above you crackled playing the opening notes to ‘Dirty Diana’, a favorite of yours. A banger Wade would say.

Without warning the door sung open and Logan stumbled in. 

“You’re in the wrong bathroom you drunk asshole” you snapped. His eyes met yours from a brief moment before he swayed slightly and took a step forward.

He pushed past you wordlessly and began kicking open the bathroom stalls. They were all empty. 

“Dude get out” You gripped the sink behind you, watching Logan warily. You knew deep down he wouldn’t hurt you but you obviously didn’t want him in here with you. He turned to you, taking a step forward.

”I needed to talk to you”

“Yeah, you could have waited til I got out of the ladies room??” 

“No.” he growled before in one swift movement he was in front of you, his arms on either side of the sink trapping you between them. Your breath came out in a shudder and your knees wobbled. This honestly was a thing out of a fantasy, something that you were embarrassed to admit you’ve thought about. You had been fighting your feelings for this big stupid man, stuck between thoughts of friendship and lust. God, he wasn’t helping with the latter.

“Logan”

“I’m sorry” he said looking as remorseful as he could under the circumstances.

“What did you need to talk about that couldn’t wait Lo?” You swallowed, gently lifting your hand and placing it on his chest, pushing lightly. His hands moved to your legs keeping you from pushing him further.

“Ya told me to find you when I figured out what I wanted”

“Yeah” You scoffed. “Enlighten me”

~~~

“I want you”

Logan leaned over you, his hands sliding up your thighs to rest on your hips. His fingers dug in lightly, the movement making your legs feel like jelly. You gripped his shoulders to steady yourself. He was so firm and warm under your hands.

His face was inches from yours, his expression unreadable in the low lighting. You smelled the smoke and alcohol on his breath.

“God, do you ever suck on anything other than Wade’s dick and cheap cigars?”

He leaned in close to your ear and growled, 

“Ya looking to find out princess?”

You felt a ping of desire sink into your lower belly as his hand moved from your waist.

Shivers went down your spine as his hands slid up your torso coming to a stop right below your breasts. One of his thumbs brushed upwards lightly, teasingly.

You sucked in a breath as he lowered his face to your neck and brushed a kiss to the sensitive skin. His facial hair tickling your jaw.

“Logan, you’re drunk.” You croaked out, pulling away slightly, your hands sliding from his shoulders. He moved with you.

You felt his lips brush your skin again, another kiss, before his thumb slid upward against your breast. Fuck. The wet heat between your legs was unbearable. You needed some sort of friction. You definitely noticed the pressure from his pants pressed against your stomach. So close, you just needed anything. You bucked your hips against his, almost involuntarily, causing a rumble to escape his throat. His thumb stroked again.

“That’s a good girl” His head bobbed lower dragging his tongue down as he kissed your neck. You could feel him smile as he sucked the skin of your collar bone in a way that would definitely leave a mark. Holy Hell. What was happening.

You were sick of your neck getting all the attention as you reached up to take his face in your hand. He practically melted at your touch, his breath hitching as you stroked his cheek with your thumb. You wanted him, needed his mouth on yours. You pulled his face up, a little roughly, to meet your gaze. You thought you heard him let out a little surprised chuckle from the movement. His eyes were half lidded as he met yours. He was drunk, and you realized, so were you. You leaned in, your lips feather light against his-

You jumped at Wade’s voice from the other side of the door, calling for you.

Shit. You dropped your hand away from his face.

Logan growled, low and angry. He abruptly took his hot hands from your body and leaned his head to your ear, you felt his lips against your skin.

“Some other time then, darlin’.” He pulled away from you swaying slightly, before grabbing his beer from the counter and yanking open the bathroom door.

~~~

Anyway, thanks for reading. I guess I don’t know if this is any good and I will be posting the rest on Ao3 eventually

[bellaxgiornata]

You're Safe With Me [Chapter Seven]

Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader Word Count: 6.1k [Series Masterlist]

a/n: It's been so long since this series got a much needed update, but here y'all go. Enjoy... Feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

Tag list: @lunaticgurly @allaboardthereadingrailroad @linamarr @hollandorks @sleeperthelazy @marcysbear @mattmurdocksstarlight @xxdrixx @v4leoftears @aoi-targaryen @danzer8705 @anon-cat-posts @heimtathurs @kmc1989 @thepunisherfrankcastle @agirlcandream84 @americaarse @desert-fern @youmakelovinfun @callmebrooklynbabes @jooheoniesdimples @wkndwlff @midnightramble @ingstadstarlight @pone21 @kezibear @gamingfeline

Surrounded by darkness, it took a moment for your tired eyes to adjust to the dim light of the motel room. Blinking slowly as you lay along the stiff, uncomfortable mattress, you noticed a few streaks of moonlight pouring inside from behind the thin curtains that covered the window across the room. The pale light mixed with the faint red from the motel's sign outside, the slight neon glow that seeped its way inside once more drawing forth that uneasy feeling in your gut. The one you hadn't been able to shake ever since you and Frank had finished your greasy dinner before falling asleep.

Something just felt wrong.

Judging by how quiet and dark it currently was, you knew it was either still quite late or very early considering the sun hadn't risen yet. You wished you could see the alarm clock from where you lay on the bed, curious as to what time it actually was. But Frank had gone to sleep last night insisting that he place himself on the bed between you and the door across the room in the event something happened–which you'd been more than happy to agree to when he'd phrased it like that. Though that meant his large body was currently blocking the single alarm clock on the nightstand along the opposite side of the bed, making it impossible for you to know what time it was. 

You knew he'd wanted to get an early start this morning, wanting to hit the road again and put even more distance between you both and this area as soon as the sun rose. But there was a large part of you–the part feeling that uneasiness in your stomach–that wished you could just wake him and leave right now. You were eager to go somewhere else that made you feel less on edge. Somewhere farther away from obvious Patriot Militia activity. You weren't sure if it was just in your head, but you’d felt like something was about to go wrong ever since Frank had stopped the van at that Walmart yesterday. 

Shifting a bit along the mattress and readjusting your position, you were abruptly hit with the sudden urge to relieve your bladder, the feeling causing you to quickly realize why you'd woken in the first place. Drawing your attention away from the window, your eyes fell on Frank beside you in the dark. He was laying with his back towards you on the bed looking exactly as he had when you’d first fallen asleep together. Judging by the faint rise and fall of his broad shoulder peeking out from beneath the sheets, you assumed he was still currently asleep. 

Admittedly it had taken you a while to fall asleep after you'd both eaten your dinner last night. Once you'd finally stopped focusing on that lingering feeling of dread, the feeling only calmed slightly by Frank's oddly comforting presence in the bed with you, you'd soon found it hard to ignore him . The way his body weight dipped the mattress had your own body struggling not to roll right into his solid back. For a long time you'd laid there being overly aware of where you placed your legs or your arms as you'd tried to get comfortable in the small bed. You were terrified of accidentally touching him and risking him turning around and shooting you one of his disapproving, surly looks. Or even worse–being scolded by him.

And the longer you laid beside him in the bed, unable to fall asleep, you’d noticed how he smelled like gasoline and cheap motel soap. Two scents that probably shouldn’t have mixed together but somehow felt just as oddly reassuring as the weight of him in the bed beside you. You’d laid awake staring at the back of him for far longer than you cared to admit just letting the scent fill your nose and taking further comfort in it.

But as you lay there staring at his back in the dark once more, his soft and steady exhales just loud enough for you to hear over the faint sounds of traffic on the nearby interstate, your bladder's need to be emptied grew more persistent. Biting your lip, you very slowly pulled the motel’s scratchy sheet and comforter off of yourself. You tried to move carefully as you uncovered yourself, not wanting to disturb Frank's sleeping form beside you. You figured he could use all the sleep he could get considering he was the one doing all of the driving and protecting. You knew he was exhausted, though you also feared how much grumpier he might be without a good rest.

The unforgiving chill of the motel room hit you the moment you’d removed the blankets, the loss of warmth from Frank's body heat becoming impossible to ignore. He was certainly like a furnace beneath the sheets–another thing you’d found strangely comforting about sharing the bed with him. But as you pushed yourself upright on the mattress slowly, your eyes on his back as you gnawed your bottom lip, you gradually sat upright and shoved those strange thoughts from your mind. Right now you just wanted to take a piss without incurring the wrath of accidentally waking the Punisher. 

Moving one leg at a time, you gently lowered your right foot to the floor before your left one followed after it. Silently, you slid along the mattress before rising to your feet, your eyes focused on the bathroom door situated across the room and by the sink. Taking a quiet step in that direction through the dark, your mind entirely focused on your very full bladder, you were surprised when something abruptly caught your left wrist. 

Startling in the darkness, you gasped audibly in surprise as your head darted over your shoulder. Frank was lying awake in the bed now, having somehow rolled noiselessly onto his other side towards you. In the dim light filtering past the motel curtains behind him, you could see his eyes were open and focused on where you stood beside the bed. Your own eyes soon dropped down to where his large hand was still holding onto you, the feel of his calloused and warm fingers lightly gripping your wrist causing goosebumps to raise along your bare forearms. Something strange stirred within you under his touch, especially with the look of concern written in his eyes and the slight furrow between his brows. But the deep and tired timbre of his voice breaking through the silence quickly distracted you from the strangely pleasant sensation that you’d felt at his touch. 

“What’re you doin’?” he asked.

Swallowing hard, aware of his grip still on your left wrist, you gestured over your shoulder with your right hand. “I need to use the bathroom,” you told him awkwardly. “Was trying not to bother you. Figured you'd be…upset if I did.”

Frank's gaze held yours as he silently stared at you, his eyes narrowing a little. In the seconds that followed, you found yourself becoming increasingly aware of each of his individual fingers on your skin. Trying to steady your breathing, you attempted to shoot him a small smile while you simultaneously hoped that he couldn’t somehow feel the slight uptick in your pulse beneath the pads of his fingers.

“Trust me, I wasn't about to disappear,” you assured him. A sheepish smile slipped onto your mouth as you quietly added, “I sort of need you and all. Not exactly inclined to run from you anymore.”

His expression softened at your words, his hand gradually releasing its hold on your wrist before it fell back to the bed. Frank gave you a single, wordless nod in response. For a second more you watched as he began to settle back down on the mattress, tugging the sheets up and over himself before he rolled over onto his side with his back once more facing you. The moment he’d laid down, the desperate urge to relieve your bladder once more overtook you and you hurried towards the bathroom. 

Stepping inside, you flipped on the light and shut the door softly behind yourself. You side-eyed the couple of dead moths laying on the floor beside the shower as you cautiously made your way over to the toilet. Half-awake you hurried to do your business in the bathroom, not wanting to run into any living insects–especially not after how Frank had reacted to you screaming over a spider in the previous motel.

When you left the bathroom, turning off the light and navigating your way to the nearby sink just outside, you were once more thrown into the darkness of the room. Your eyes took a minute to adjust as you felt your way to the sink, but once they did, you caught sight of Frank through the mirror. Turning on the faucet and beginning to wash your hands, you curiously eyed his reflection. He was sitting upright in the bed, his posture rigid and completely still. He looked anything but relaxed and ready to fall back asleep. A cold chill spread through you as you watched him, quickly feeling like his current alertness had nothing to do with you waking to use the bathroom. 

After drying your hands on the towel, you set it back on the counter before nervously turning towards him. He sat still alert on the bed, his gaze fixed straight ahead and focused on the wallpapered wall across from him. Hesitantly you took a step towards him, nerves twisting in your stomach.

“What is it?” you whispered. “What's–”

Frank held up a hand immediately, cutting you clear off. Biting the inside of your cheek, you watched as he tilted his head towards the motel door as if he was focused hard on listening to something outside. Eyes narrowing, you practically held your breath as you tried to pick up on whatever it was that he had.

At first you didn't hear anything besides the distant sound of cars and trucks speeding past the motel parking lot, the noise a constant since you'd both shown up earlier. But then you thought you caught the faint sound of voices. Voices that were speaking in the slightest of hushed whispers. And it sounded like it was coming from just outside, not that far from your motel room.

You felt your heart jump into your throat, that nagging feeling of unease and dread washing back over you instantly. Frank's head spun towards you moments later, his hard gaze causing your palms to sweat as fear gripped you in a firm hold. You knew what he was about to say before he even said the words.

“Get under the bed,” he ordered, his voice barely above a whisper. “Stay there.”

Without a word you nodded, already obediently hurrying over towards the side of the bed. Frank rose from the mattress before you'd even lowered your knees to the dirty motel floor, and as you steadied your hands against the side of the bed, not even remotely thinking about how disgusting and unclean the floor that you were about to get quite intimate with certainly was, you watched as Frank grabbed the handgun from the nightstand beside where he'd been sleeping. Breath coming in sharper, the last thing you saw before laying down along the floor was Frank’s back as he quietly paced his way to the motel door.

With a racing heart, you shimmied your way beneath the bed frame, grateful that it was just wide enough to actually fit you beneath it. Though it was a tight fit, one that was quite uncomfortable and only adding to your increasingly terrified state. The tight, enclosed space was threatening to push you straight into a panic attack as you lay there attempting to remain calm. When you heard the door of your motel room open, you squeezed your eyes shut and held your breath.

The memory of the last time you’d hidden under the bed not that long ago was scratching at the surface of your memory. The gunshots and tang of coppery blood hanging in the air pushed at the edges of your mind as you did your best to fend them off. Though that became less of a difficult task the moment you heard the distinct shriek of a woman coming from what sounded like the room right next door.

Eyes flying wide open at the scream, you swore your heart stopped beating entirely at the sound. It wasn’t long before you heard the neighboring motel door fly open, slamming into the wall with such force that it caused the adjoining wall to shake. You assumed that had been Frank bursting into the room, probably driven even further into that protective mode of his due to the horrified scream. 

Your mind was already racing as you lay beneath the bed, your heart now thudding so hard you could feel your pulse hammering away in your throat. Was it the Patriot Militia in the room next door? Had they just somehow gotten the wrong room and thought you had been staying in that one? Were they about to attack an innocent person? The thought of something horrible happening to someone else because of you had your stomach knotting and coiling with guilt.

But you didn’t have long to lay beneath the dusty bed frame worrying because the sound of a fight soon grew unmistakeable next door and you couldn’t focus on anything else. You heard loud crashes, the sound of glass shattering–the mirror above the sink possibly–and the occasional sharp bang of a gun firing which had you wincing every single time it went off. Every once and awhile the noises were accentuated by a feminine scream or something that sounded like Frank’s deep rumbling voice, but it was so muffled by the other sounds that you had no idea what he was saying.

Hands curling into fists at your sides, they ached from the tension of how tight you’d balled them. Your nails were digging into your palms while your teeth dug so hard into your bottom lip to keep you from violently shaking beneath the bed that you figured there’d soon be blood in your mouth. Part of you wanted to block out the sounds of the fight from next door, but another part of you was trying hard to decipher what the voices were saying above all the noise. And every time you heard Frank’s deadly tone making its way through the thin walls you felt a sense of comfort. It at least meant he was still alive.

You weren’t sure how long you’d laid on the floor beneath that bed while trying hard to keep your breath steady before the sound of the fight had finally died down. You figured that meant Frank had dealt with the neighboring intruders the only way you expected from the Punisher. Though you could hear him talking once more, his voice still too low and muffled for you to make out the words no matter how hard you strained to listen. The voice responding to him sounded male, though. Nothing at all like the initial screaming that had sounded like it had come from a woman. You found yourself hoping she was alright. 

Curiosity eventually won out as you lay there in the cramped, tight space. Raising your head a fraction from off the floor, you craned your neck and tried hard to understand what was being said in the next room. There were two male voices, one distinctly that of Frank’s, but no matter how hard you strained to listen, you couldn’t quite make out the words. And then the sound of a loud thwap startled you seconds later before a very solid thump met your ears. The next thing you picked up on was a protesting, feminine voice that was quickly growing louder as it neared your room. Brows knitting together in confusion, you lowered your head back to the floor before rolling it towards what you could see of the motel door from beneath the bed. It soon burst loudly open seconds later, startling you at the abruptness. A set of shoes you didn’t recognize practically stumbled into the room before you spotted Frank’s familiar black boots following right behind.

“I don’t know who they were!” the unknown voice protested. “I swear! They just showed up when I was asleep right before you did!”

“Not buyin’ it, kid,” Frank’s familiar tone replied.

From beneath the bed you pulled a face at his words. Kid? What did he mean by kid ? Especially after all the violent noises you'd just overheard coming from the room over. And why had he brought them with him? 

Frank called your name and you immediately stiffened under the bed, your thoughts entirely interrupted at the note of urgency in his voice. You focused back on the two sets of feet that were making their way further into the room, the motel door slamming closed a little harder than necessary.

“You can come out now,” Frank continued. “We gotta go. Grab your bag and get in the van.”

It took you a minute to uncomfortably squeeze your way out from beneath the bed frame. Gritting your teeth together, you tried to maneuver your way out but inevitably ended up hitting your shoulder on the frame as you did, grimacing slightly at the pain that shot through your arm as you finished crawling out from beneath the bed. You squinted when your eyes were hit with the light from the motel room that Frank must have turned on. Your back ached as you pulled yourself up from off of the floor, eyes adjusting to the brightness. On the opposite side of the bed you spotted Frank, one hand haphazardly swinging his bag onto his shoulder, the other roughly holding onto the back of a young woman’s sweatshirt.

“Frank, what’re you doing?” you asked, eyeing the young woman who you quickly recognized from the motel lobby when you’d arrived last night. “Why is she here?”

“Because she ain’t who she’s sayin’ she is, that’s why,” Frank snapped. “Look, we gotta go and she's gotta come with us. I can explain everything in the van when we're outta here. Alright?”

You shook your head immediately, the young girl now turning her terrified eyes on you. There was blood splattered along her face and bits of it in her blonde hair, though not remotely as much blood as what was currently covering Frank’s face. You tried to ignore the way your stomach lurched at the reason as to why they most likely had blood on themselves and why it was suddenly so quiet in the room next door.

“You–you can’t just kidnap a teenage girl from a motel, Frank,” you shot back, throwing a hand at the girl. “What about the father that she’s traveling with? You don’t think he’s going to file a police report when he sees she's missing? Have them looking for us nationwide?”

Frank rolled his eyes impatiently, his hold not letting up on the back of the girl’s pink sweatshirt. “She was lying. She isn’t here with her father. She's staying in that room alone. I'm not remotely buyin’ her innocent act and neither should you.”

“No, my–my dad just ran out for a bit,” the young blonde said, her voice wavering as her terrified eyes remained fixed on you, wide and pleading as they filled with tears. “He’s going to be back any minute and if he sees me missing he is going to freak out. Please, you have to let me go. I don’t know what’s going on! I swear!”

Your eyes darted to Frank at her side, her pleas and the tears in her eyes making you feel uneasy. Shaking your head gently at him, you said, “This isn’t what we do. We aren't going to kidnap people. They probably just had the wrong room, Frank. Mixed her up while looking for me. Just let her go and let’s get out of here.”

Frank shot you a look of disbelief, his head canting roughly to the side as his eyes narrowed at you. “Oh come on, are you really buyin’ this bullshit innocent act?” he retorted. “Only one bed was messed. There were no other bags but her backpack. No trace of anyone else in the room. And the asshole I questioned seemed pretty damn surprised when he saw me ‘cause he didn't realize you were here. The facts are in front of your face, Spunky,” he continued sharply. “Whatever the hell is goin’ on, she stepped into the same pile of shit you did. They’re after her, too. It's plain as day.”

Your eyes flew to the young woman who was still shooting you a pleading look, tears welling in her eyes as a couple slipped down her cheek. Uncertainty filled you as you studied her. She looked like she was barely even eighteen, how could the Patriot Militia have possibly been after her as well? What could they have wanted with her? The very idea of the terrorist organization targeting her seemed utterly ridiculous. It seemed more likely that she'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time, staying in a motel room that was neighboring yours and causing them to mistake her for you.

But yet, as you thought about it for a moment, you realized that her age alone should've been a complete giveaway to these people that they had the wrong person. If they'd thought she was the news reporter they were chasing down, seeing her should have made it quite obvious that she was far too young to even be a news reporter.

“Please,” the girl begged you. “ Please . I just want to go home. That’s all. I don’t know what’s going on or who those people are, I swear. I promise I won’t even tell the cops about either of you. Just let me go!”

“You either trust me or you don’t, Spunky,” Frank said, his impatience clear in his tone. “Cops are gonna be here any minute. We need to go. And I ain’t risking leaving her behind. So either you fall for her bullshit and we end up targets in a jail cell, or you grab your goddamn bag and we get the hell outta here. I need to call Madani.”

Inhaling a shuddering breath in, you couldn’t believe what you were about to do. Slowly you nodded at Frank, your stomach twisting as you headed over to the footboard of the bed and bent down to grab your bag from off of the floor. You shouldered the strap of it, your eyes meeting Frank’s as you straightened. A look of relief immediately washed over his face.

“Only because I…somehow trust you,” you told him softly. “Though, this seriously doesn’t feel right. She's just a kid.”

“I can see that,” Frank agreed, gesturing his head towards the door. “But we gotta go.”

With nerves and that sense of unease flooding your body, you walked past him, wincing as the young girl began sniffling softly behind you. It didn’t feel right dragging her along with the pair of you even if Frank seemed to believe she was somehow in danger herself. And you couldn't help but feel empathetic to her current situation, especially since only days ago Frank had practically kidnapped you, too. 

Making your way out of the motel room, you couldn't resist shooting a glance at the room to your right. The room Frank and the girl had just come from. Thankfully the door was shut, blocking your view of whatever lay behind it. The thought of what it was hiding had your blood running cold, a shiver racing down your spine. The scent of gunpowder and the coppery tang of blood from what had happened in the motel just days ago filled your nose, the memory causing you to feel sick.

Forcing your attention to the parking lot ahead of you and tearing it away from the door, you focused your eyes on Frank's van as your feet led you towards it. You weren't going to think about what had happened in either of those motel rooms. Not right now, not if you didn't want to lose your shit in the motel parking lot. Because Frank was right, you needed to get out of here before the police appeared, and truthfully, you were grateful that you were still breathing. 

As you approached the van, you could hear the young girl struggling against Frank's grip just behind you. Of course Frank remained silent despite her continued pleas, not remotely engaging with her now. That only seemed to upset her further, which in turn only increased your feeling of guilt for what you were both doing to her.

Opening the passenger door, you began to climb into the front of the van. You heard Frank leading the young woman around to the back of it before he roughly opened the doors. Cringing as you settled into the front seat, your arms hugging your little duffle bag to your chest, you heard the distinct sound of a zip tie tightening. Turning around in your seat, you frowned at the sight of one of the zip ties already secured around her right wrist.

“Please, don't,” the girl pleaded with Frank as he grabbed her other wrist. “Please don’t do this.” 

“That's not necessary, is it?” you called back to Frank.

Frank's stern gaze shifted from the blonde to you, his hand still firmly gripping her wrist as he paused. In the distance your ears picked up on the sound of police sirens, the noise immediately increasing your panic. They were most certainly on their way here and you were both quickly running out of time. No doubt Frank knew that, too.

“We don’t know her,” Frank shot back, his head gesturing to the blonde. “You really want to leave her loose back here? Hands free so she can attack us?”

Your gaze shifted uneasily to the girl beside him. “You don’t really think a teenage girl is capable of that, do you?” you questioned back.

“I don’t know who the damn hell she is, Spunky,” Frank growled. “And personally, I’d rather not risk finding out. You get me?”

Eyelids slowly lowering, you nodded in defeat. Turning back around in your seat, you felt sick to your stomach as you heard him finish securing her wrists before hefting her into the back of the van. Rather roughly he slammed the back doors shut before appearing at the driver’s side of the vehicle seconds later. He opened the door and climbed in, tossing his duffle bag down on the floor beside your feet before shoving the key into the ignition and starting the van. You shot him a questioning look, your feet shifting away from the bag.

“You want her sitting back there with the guns?” he snapped.

“No,” you admitted quietly.

Frank let out a grunt in response before he put the car in drive. As he began to peel out of the motel’s parking lot, he started shifting in the driver’s seat, one hand searching the pocket of his pants. Your head turned slightly over your shoulder, shamefully eyeing the young woman in the back. She was sitting on the floor of the van hunched over, her face buried in her hands. You’d been about to open your mouth to say something, but Frank had roughly bumped something against your arm to get your attention. Gaze returning back to him beside you, the sound of sirens growing even louder, you frowned at the phone in his hand.

“I’m gonna need you to call Madani,” he told you. “Put her on speakerphone. I need to focus on driving if you wanna get outta here.”

Wordlessly you accepted the phone from his hand and pulled up the contact list. The only other number saved in the phone that wasn’t your new burner phone was that of a Dinah Madani. Hitting the call button, you watched the phone screen change before you pressed the button to place it on speakerphone. The sound of the dial tone cut through the tension filling the van as you sat there quietly. The phone rang four times before she finally answered.

“What is it now, Castle?” Madani’s tired and irritated voice greeted from over the line. “It’s almost three in the morning.”

“We got another problem, Madani,” Frank answered, his eyes focused straight ahead. “Need you to clean up another mess for us.”

There was a curse on the other end of the line before Madani let out a sigh.

“You know,” she began, the sleep slowly leaving her voice, “just because I gave you the clearance to protect someone by any means necessary, that doesn’t mean you need to keep dropping bodies.”

“Wasn’t tryin’ to,” Frank replied, glancing in the rearview mirror as he spoke. “But they went after someone in the motel room next to ours and–”

“So help me, Castle,” Madani immediately began, “if you got an innocent bystander killed, the deal will be off.”

“No, I didin’t,” he countered. “They were actually after this girl. Barely looks to be eighteen. Apparently didn’t even know we were right there, too. Which is either coincidental or somethin’ else, I don’t know. But either way, I wasn’t just gonna sit back and let them take her.”

There was a pause before Madani answered.

“So what happened? Is she okay?” she asked. “Is she with you? Why are they after her?”

Frank glanced over his shoulder at the girl, your own eyes following his gaze. Her attention was focused on the both of you, clearly listening in to the phone call. There was a hard to read expression on her face, but something about it made her seem a little less innocent as you eyed her.

“She’s alive,” Frank replied, focusing back on the road. “Brought her with us. But she’s refusing to say why they want her.”

“Well let me know whatever you find out,” Madani told him. “But just…no torturing her, okay? She’s just a kid so treat her like one.”

You saw the way the muscle twitched in Frank’s cheek at her words, his eyes narrowing at the road. She’d touched on a nerve with that comment, it was obvious.

“Wouldn’t do that, Madani,” Frank ground out. “That’s not what I do.”

A loud sigh came from the other end of the phone before you heard the click of a pen. 

“So where is the mess I need to clean up?” Madani asked.

“Sunny Daze Motel,” Frank told her. 

Your attention shifted to the side mirror on the van as Frank repeated the motel’s address to her. Some of your nerves were eased by the fact that you couldn’t hear the police sirens anymore and you definitely couldn’t see any flashing blue and red lights. And that seemed like a good thing. It meant that you both had once more managed to get away with your lives intact. And now Madani would clean up the mess Frank left behind and keep the cops off of your back again, which was a relief even if you still felt sick at the thought of the dead bodies you knew were laying back in that motel room.

“There uh, was something else, Madani.”

The sound of unease in Frank’s tone caught your attention instantly. Head darting over your shoulder, your eyes immediately narrowed at him curiously. What else could there have been besides the dead bodies and the mysterious girl?

“What, Castle?” Madani asked carefully.

You could see the way Frank hesitated, his eyes determinedly focused on the road ahead of him. The shift in his demeanor had you studying him closely as he spoke, paying close attention to every word.

“The guy I questioned back at the motel,” Frank began slowly, “he mentioned something. Something that seemed…concerning.” 

He paused, his hands readjusting their position on the steering wheel. His grip seemed tighter than usual when he was driving, almost as if he was…uncomfortable. Or nervous. 

“Yeah?” Madani pressed.

“Not sure how much clearance you’ve got at Homeland, but have you uh,” Frank asked carefully, his eyes still straight ahead, “you ever heard of something called Project Chimera?” 

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Your eyes narrowed even further as you studied Frank, certain he was intentionally avoiding looking at you now. Whatever the hell that was didn’t sound good, that much you could gauge.

“No,” Madani answered slowly, dragging the word out. “Should I know what that is?”

“Heard it mentioned a long time ago. Back when I was still in that special forces group,” Frank continued, still very much ignoring the way your eyes were boring into the side of his face. “S’posed to be something that doesn’t exist even though it does. Top secret government shit, y’know? Something I remember being asked to join. But I said no ‘cause it seemed…not quite right.”

“You got more than that to go on?” Madani questioned.

Frank’s mouth set into a hard line, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tight you saw his knuckles whiten now. He was definitely nervous and that had you terrified. What could possibly scare the Punisher?

“All I remember hearing ‘bout it after the fact,” Frank answered, “was that they were making enhanced soldiers. Not training them– making them.”

Your blood ran cold as you stiffened in the seat. You didn’t know what that meant, but it didn’t sound like a good thing. Over the line, you heard Madani clear her throat and you waited with bated breath, hoping you’d get something more from either of them. 

“So you…you’re telling me that there might be some sort of…bigger threat after her now?” Madani hesitantly asked. “Is that what you’re saying? That it’s not just assholes with guns anymore?”

“Dunno,” Frank replied. “Dickhead mentioned his superiors weren’t a fan of mine. Managed to mention Chimera. Our girl here told me some higher up government shitbags are behind all this mess with the militia. So my guess?” he continued on. “The dickhead must’ve meant some higher ranking officials have access to these soldiers. I must be making enough trouble for them to need to call in somethin’ more…reliable.”

“Wonderful,” Madani muttered. “Alright, well, I’ll deal with your motel problem now, then I’ll do my best to dig around and see what I can find on some secret, nonexistent  government project. In the meantime, you find out what’s up with the other girl and keep your goddamn head’s down, okay? I don’t need any of you dying on me before I can get this shit dealt with.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Frank said. “That’s always the plan, ain’t it?”

The call ended abruptly and for a moment you just sat there with the phone in your hand, trying to process what you’d just overheard. Eventually you cautiously reached your hand out, giving the phone back to Frank when he briefly glanced at you. You watched as he pocketed it once more, his attention remaining focused on the road. But you couldn’t stop staring at him after what you’d just learned, fear once more enveloping you where you sat.

“Are we just…not going to talk about that?” you whispered, voice shaking.

“Talk ‘bout what?” Frank asked, eyes still on the road.

“The bigger threat?” you replied. “Enhanced soldiers? Whatever Project Chimera is?”

At the sound of your quiet, terrified voice, Frank’s gaze finally landed on you in the seat beside him. His expression softened, sympathy shining back at you in his dark eyes. At the moment, he looked far more compassionate than you’d ever seen him before. 

“Hey, ‘s’alright,” he assured you. “You don’t need to worry about it. No one is gonna hurt you, okay? I made you a promise. And I’m a stubborn asshole, remember? Nothing is gonna happen to you.”

Feeling tears prick at your eyes, your attention switched to the road. Arms hugging your duffle bag tighter to your chest, you once more felt the weight of everything crashing down on you. Frank was good– really good–at fighting. But neither of you even knew what this Project Chimera was or what an enhanced soldier was even capable of. 

“You don’t know that,” you whispered back, shaking your head lightly. “You can’t possibly know that.”

“You’re gonna be alright, you got that?” Frank stated firmly. “We’re gonna take these assholes down. And at the end of it, you’ll be just fine, Spunky.”

A tear snuck its way out of the corner of your eye, slipping its way down your cheek. You wanted to believe him, you really did. But right now you felt like the odds were quickly stacking against you both. 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you whispered back.

[azsazz]

Break Up in a Small Town

Modern!Cassian x Archeron Sister!Reader

Summary: Based off of the song Break Up in a Small Town by Sam Hunt: You and Cassian have broken up and everything in town reminds him of you. It's inevitable that he sees you around, and it's hard for him to be okay when he sees you with your new man.

Warnings: Mentions of violence, drinking.

Word Count: 4,489

Notes: Small town Cassian giving me life rn.

_________________________________________

Cassian knew he would see you around.

It’s hard not to see someone he knows every time he leaves his house—the town has less than a thousand people for fucks sake. There isn’t a day that goes by where someone doesn’t stop to talk to him while he’s putting gas in his beat-down Ford Bronco or chatting him up while he tries to pay for his food in the drive through. 

And normally, he welcomes it. He loves to shoot the shit with people he’s known since he was young. He’d run into Tarquin the other day at Walmart while he was picking up a rack of beer for tonight's party. He hadn’t seen the team captain of the high school football team since he’d heard Tarquin received a full scholarship to Ole Miss. He was the only one on their team to do so, though Cassian also had recruiters watching him at games. Thanks to a nasty red-flag tackle by Jurian which left his ACL torn during the championship game, they’d pulled their offers back quicker than a greased pig. Hybern High went all for nothing that year.

He still looked sheepish when Azriel’s mother had checked him out at the grocery store, even though he’s been of age for a few years now. Cassian’s cheeks flushed under her knowing look: she’d caught them more times than he could count when they were teenagers trying to find a way to sneak booze without her knowing.

The party is in full swing. Drinks are flowing and Kallias has taken over the speakers to play his mixtape. The bass is so heavy Cassian can hardly hear the words, but Vivianne’s vocals are grating, pitched too high and not on key with the rest of the notes. He shares a look with Azriel, who cringes, but clinks his beer against Cassian’s before throwing the whole can back.

Cassian follows suit, downing the cheap beer like it’s his job. It’s not his occupation, no, that would be working on cars down at Bryaxis’ Axles, but it’s pretty much his secondary one. He trails Azriel into the kitchen, wading through people gyrating on the makeshift dance floor. They round the counter laden with alcohol—tequila, empty fruity vodka shots that Mor has forced him to take with her, and some concoction of juices and multiple alcohols that nearly burned off his nose hairs when he smelt it—and make way for the fridge where he’d stuffed his beer. It better still be in there or there will be hell to pay.

“When’s Rhys coming down again?” Cassian asks, taking the beer from Azriel as he rises. He tries not to let his fingers brush his quiet friends. They’re marred and Azriel doesn't like when attention of any kind is brought to them, even though Cassian and Rhysand had never held it against him.

A house fire was the rumor around town. But Azriel had only set it straight with him and Rhys at a sleepover one night, when it was going on four in the morning and they were sleep deprived and drunk off their first beers. Maybe Azriel had thought they wouldn’t remember the next day, but there was no way Cassian could forget that his step brothers had taken the lighter fluid form the garage and set his hands ablaze because of their sadistic tendencies.

Azriel’s mother had taken him and moved as far as she could with the money she was saving up, but they’d only made it a few towns over, and Cassian is thankful. Azriel’s father had never shown his face in the years he’s lived here.

“No idea,” Azriel responds, stepping aside to let Thesean into the fridge. The fucker dips his hand right into Cassian’s box of beer, pulling one out before diving in for a second. Cassian grits his teeth but when the other man straightens he notices how glazed over his eyes are, and Cassian knows his threats won’t land. “You know he’s got that internship up in New York.”

Right, while Cassian could only afford to go to their local college, Rhysand’s parents sent him to the most expensive one they could buy him into. And Azriel’s had a job since he was a teenager, when hacking into cameras around town for fun turned into something that made serious money. He bought his mother a house and everything, even offered a room to Cassian, but Cassian wants to make his own way, even if he is living in a run down apartment across town. It’s his, and he worked hard for it.

“Shit, you’re right,” Cassian sighs. It turns into a full on glare when the backdoor shoves open and Balthazar stumbles through, arm wrapped around Emerie for support. The man’s eyes light up at the sight of him and Azriel, while Emerie parts with a sour look in his direction, slinking off into the living room.

“What’s up?” Balthazar slurs, leaning heavily against the counter. He looks like he might slide right off of it, but neither he nor Azriel do anything about it.

“Hey, Balth,” Az greets, popping the top of his beer so he has something to do. They’ll be trapped with the talkative man if they don’t think of an excuse to leave soon. 

Balthazar’s eyes light up at the sound of the can cracking open, but neither of the men before him offer to get him one. No matter for him, he pulls a joint from the pocket of his jeans and a bat shaped lighter from the other, flicking it to life and setting the tip ablaze.

“You guys hear Feyre might be pregnant?” He says through a deep inhale of smoke. Cassian shares a look with Azriel, who never seems affected by any of the small town gossip. He never seems affected by anything, really.

His heart skips at the thought of Feyre. Not because of her and whoever the father of this maybe child might be, but because he’s reminded of you, her sister, the girl he’d lost. Gods, did Cassian fuck up royally when it came to you. 

He takes the bait. Anything to get his mind off of you. “No fucking way.”

Balthazar smiles smug, holding the joint out their way. Cassian declines with a wave of his beer, but Azriel takes a hit, obviously uncomfortable with how crowded and rowdy the party has become.

“Yup. Apparently it was a one night stand with ‘the most beautiful man she’s ever seen,’” he bats his eyes like a simpering girl, voice pitched high in his best impression of the youngest Archeron sister.

Azriel answers through a puff of thick smoke, his voice already scratchy with it. “But isn’t she with—”

“Tam? Yeah, man, I thought so too.” 

Cassian sighs, looking at his beercan. It’s full, so there’s no excuse for him to turn away and grab another. He’s wracking his mind for anything he can use as an excuse to escape the conversation, his night gone sour now that his mind is on you. It likely will be for the rest of the night too, and he’d rather sit on his futon and wallow by himself than to stay at this party.

“Speaking of Archerons,” Balthazar says, taking the joint back from Azriel. “How are you and—”

Fuck it, Cassian thinks, because Balthazar is totally drunk enough not to notice his full beer. “I think I need another drink,” he states, and Azriel glares as he abandons him with Balthazar. That man can gossip for hours, and luckily, silent old Azriel is the perfect listener.

“Isn’t the fridge right behind you?” he hears Balthazar ask Azriel as he retreats, but he doesn’t care. He shoves his beer onto the counter as he makes his way towards the front of the house where his Bronco’s parked.

He hasn’t had that much to drink yet, not even a slight buzz has kicked in, or it’s been dulled from Balthazar's painful topic of gossip. Cassian slips through the crowd as easily as a six foot five man can, girls trying to lure him onto the dance floor and guys clapping him on the back, rallying him for the next game of beer pong. 

Cassain politely declines, reaching for the knob just as it pushes open and his heart stops. 

It’s you. 

His breath is forced from his chest by your beauty. You look amazing as always, hair done up to perfection and eyes alight with the shots you’d taken for confidence, a part of you knowing that you might see him here tonight. You’re laughing with Elain and Feyre who cling to your sides, and Nesta brings the Archeron clan to a close. Your steps falter and grin drops when you meet Cassian’s eyes.

Your mouth parts as if to say something, but Nesta’s interrupting and shoving you inside with a grumble and a curse spat Cassian’s way. His heart shatters again as he watches you walk deeper into the living room without a glance back at him.

He clenches his jaw and steps out into the cool night.

⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅

You haunt him.

It’s a week later and Cassian hasn’t stopped thinking about you. How…good you looked, glowing and laughing whole-heartedly with your sisters when he’s hardly been able to even get out of bed. You’re still burrowed too deep in his heart. Your eyes, your nose, your lips, your hands, your—

He knows you haven't left town, but it feels like you have, with the way you’re avoiding each other. And you seem to be a professional at it, since it's been almost two months since the night you left him. He was a fool to let you go, not fight for you the way you surely wanted because he had accepted failure all too easily. You had made more than one good point. Cassian can’t be what you need.

Cassian hadn’t seen you at the football game tonight. The Velaris Stars had made it to the championship game of the season and everyone in town had come out for it, as the only exciting event for all to enjoy.

He’d gone with Azriel, of course, and even Rhysand had responded to his video of the winning touchdown. The popcorn had been fresh and the air was jovial, the night ending on a high note. The team is going to state.

Fiddling with the stations on his radio at the red light, he doesn’t realize that you’ve pulled up next to him until your giggles filter through the cracked window of your car and his heart stops. He thinks he hears you sometimes, telling him to knock it off when he’s had one too many beers or makes an ill-timed joke. The height differences in your small car compared to his tall one make it difficult to look, but he sits straighter and cranes his neck to see out the passenger window, and yep. It’s definitely you.

In your white Nissan he knows better than his own car. That thing is always breaking down. His heart pinches in his chest when he’s reminded of the time you’d taken it out into the fields to go stargazing. It wouldn’t start and your phones had died. Instead of walking ten miles back to town, you’d asked him to stay up with you all night under the stars, laughing and kissing like it was your last night on Earth.

Cassian wonders who's working on your car now that you’re no longer together.

He doesn’t know why you’re laughing, but he revels in the sound of it even though he feels like shit because he’s not the one making those noises coming from your mouth. Cassian wears a soft smile, thinking about all of the good times you’ve shared, until he notices the hand on your thigh.

The smile falls right off of his face.

His knuckles turn white from how hard he grips the steering wheel. The bright red of the streetlight pours into your car but he can’t see the passengers face, all he knows is that’s a man's hand holding your leg and soothing over it with his thumb. His teeth grind. 

You refuse to look his way. Surely, you must know that you’ve pulled up beside him at this Godforsaken light that for some reason will not turn the fuck green. No, they want him to sit here and see what he’s lost, how happy you are with someone new.

And when the light finally changes he can’t seem to move. He sees your fleeting smile as you take off and he’s left reading that silly bumper sticker Nesta had slapped on the back bumper when she was the one who owned the car, the ‘honk if you like reading smut’ in thick, bold letters laughing at him in the face.

⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅

The worst part about this breakup is, everywhere he goes reminds him of you.

You used to hang out with the same group of people but since the breakup happened Cassian didn’t want any of them to be stuck in the betweens of your fucked up relationship. He couldn’t even suggest trying to be friends because the thought of that alone made him want to throw up. He could never be friends with you, he doesn’t want to, because knowing you in the way that he did and not being able to touch you and hold you and fuck you like he did was much too painful. He kept Azriel in the breakup and let you have everyone else.

When he goes to the McDonald’s for lunch he sees the booth you’d spent almost two hours in, wrappers from ice cream cone strewn about the table because you asked shyly if he would judge you if you went back for a second cone and he grinned mischievously and asked if you wanted to bet on who could down more ice cream. He won, of course, but it had been a valiant effort from you nonetheless.

When he went to the library to return the book he hadn’t even cracked the spine of. He thought reading would help take his mind off of the breakup but Cassian didn’t have the energy. Gwyn was at the front desk, glaring up at him as he slid the book across the counter for her to return. The workspace was filled with art supplies, a post-it note with Feyre and your names scrawled on it and he remembered that the both of you host a arts and crafts day for the children in town once a month. Gwyn had caught his eye and shooed him away. Nesta would have been proud of the shy girl.

When he drives down the country curves, avoiding the crossroads to your house completely. All of the places he’d haphazardly pulled over when you were searching for a place to have sex. But there’s no privacy in these small towns so the back of his Bronco would have to do. It was spacious, but never the place he really wanted to take you in. He wanted to give you a proper bed and worship you like you deserved. If you’d only given him a few more years he would have his own place, though you merit a plush, large bed instead of his paper thin futon.

Cassian stops into Alice’s cafe. It’s fairly early in the morning, but the place is still packed because it’s one of the only restaurants in town. Somethings off about him today, though, and maybe it’s because his mind hasn’t stopped working overtime, trying to figure out who was in that car with you.

Why hadn’t he been driving? Did you want to drive or was he so pretentious that he wouldn’t take you around town? Does he even have a car? He can’t stop overanalyzing the situation and he’s sleep deprived. All he wants is a fucking coffee and the town doesn’t even have a Starbucks yet, so he has to park his car in the overflow lot and go inside. He doesn’t want to be bothered, but the cafe is crawling with townies, so it’s inevitable he’ll see someone he knows.

He doesn’t expect it to be you. 

It’s not like you’re sitting in any of the booths that line his path to the ordering counter. His eyes seem to gravitate towards you no matter where you are, and your playful flirting is unmistakable. He knows, he’s been happily on the other side of that banter before.

Cassian’s gaze locks on you first. You look perfect, unfazed by anything happening in the loud cafe around you. Dishes clang together as the waitress gathers them. It’s Cerridwen, and her twin Naula is manning the espresso machine, Cassian notices when the waitress nods her direction, letting you know that your latte will only be a few more minutes.

“Take your time,” you reassure, eyes sparkling as they move back across the table. Cassian wishes that Cerridwen would move out of the way so he can see who you’re smiling at. “I’m in no rush.”

And then she steps away and his world comes screeching to a halt.

He knows who was in that car with you because he’s sitting across from you right now, a fox-like smile on his face.

Eris Vanserra.

The most pretentious of the Vanserras, if Cassian does say so himself. They’ve never gotten along, mostly due to the fact that Eris is a raging, rich, dick and he’s from the boonies. The Vanserra’s are some of the wealthiest folk in town, their father, Beron, a successful farmer. They own half of the land in this town and then some.

He knows that Eris can take care of you, money wise, but does the asshole please you in bed? He looks like he’s all take and not give. He knows that Eris has a working car, a nice one too, so he doesn’t understand why you were driving him around that night, but it doesn’t seem to matter at the moment when all of the thoughts racing through his head incinerate with his anger.

Cassian’s fingers curl into fists.

Of course it’s Eris. Of. Fucking. Course. It. Is. It couldn’t have been anyone else? Not Bron or Hart or even Lucien? The nicest of the Vanserras? Cassian knows he’s been in a steady relationship with Elain since they were in middle school, but still. Isn’t it weird to be dating the brother of your sister's boyfriend? Cassian sure as fuck thinks so.

This is utterly ridiculous and he’s raging. He needs to get out of here before he picks up your latte and brings it over to you, shoving Eris further into the booth so he can slam his hands down on that table and yell, “Why him?”

Cassian abandons the idea of getting coffee and spins on his heel, ignoring some of the people who try to greet him, leaving the cafe as quickly as he can. 

⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅

“You knew?” he asks into the phone. The bite of pizza in his mouth turns to sludge and he feels betrayed, but he’ll let Azriel explain because surely his best friend hasn’t kept the fact that you’re seeing one of the Vanserra’s a secret from him. 

Azriel shrugs, and something shuffles across the line. “I uh, I’ve been talking to Gwyn.”

Ah. So he’s finally trying to make a move on the fiery redhead from the library. He’s proud of Azriel on the inside, but it doesn’t reflect in his tone because he’s hurt by the subdued man’s actions.

“And you didn’t think to tell me?”

“You never want to talk about her!” Cassian’s dumbstruck. He’s never heard Azriel so loud, irked by his sad nature. His mouth parts even though he doesn’t know how to respond but that’s more than okay because Azriel’s not finished yet. “It’s been months, Cass. You can’t expect her to wallow in sadness for the rest of her life.” And, ouch. That one felt like a direct shot at him. “She was bound to move on at some point and Eris treats her well enough, if that’s what you’re wondering.” It wasn’t, and that just stings more. 

Cassian’s reply is quiet, throat tight. “I’ve got to go.”

Azriel sighs down the line, sensing he’s fucked up. “Cass—”

“No, it’s cool, Az. I’ve just got shit to do. I’ll talk to you later.” He hangs up on Azriel’s protest, making a face at the half eaten slice of pizza in his hand. Cassian tosses it back into the box and sits further back in his chair, running his fingers through his almost too-long hair.

Fuck. He can’t sit around and think about you and Eris together or he’ll actually go nuts. With a grunt he stands, swiping his keys from the bowl by the door. He has to work out his frustrations, and there’s only one thing that can help him with that.

He’ll go to work.

⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱

“Cass?” Helion calls, “What are you doing here?” 

“Just need to work off some frustration,” Cassian says, cringing at the hard edge to his voice. He flings his keys on the top of the tool box before slipping into his grease-stained shirt. He shoves his finger into the button to raise his car on the lift, snagging his safety-goggles from the shelf and sliding them on. 

Helion appears, sliding back into the open doorway of his office, a teasing grin on his face. “You know, when I was your age, working off frustration meant—”

“Now’s really not the best time, Helion,” Cassian responds, taking his quarter inch wrench and walking beneath his car, examining the underside. He knows exactly what needs to be done, all of the parts that he can’t afford on his meager wages means that he has to purchase them slowly, one at a time, and it’s likely that the new parts will be worn in and rusted by the time he even comes close to finishing this project.

Fucking small towns.

“Girl troubles?”

Cassian shoots him a sour look that only makes the older man laugh. “Isn’t it always?”

“When I was young,” Helion starts again and Cassian rolls his eyes. The owner of the mechanics shop always starts his stories with variations of ‘When I was your age’ or ‘when I was young.’ It’s annoyingly endearing at the best of times, but right now, it’s down right infuriating, especially since Cassian wants to be alone. “I had a girl too. She was everything to me, and I had plans to marry her.” The older man's tone goes soft, longing, and Cassian pauses his work to look over. “A pretty thing, long, amber hair and all soft smiles…”

“What happened?” Cassian asks, but is weary, already sensing how this story might end.

Helion shrugs, as if after all of this time it doesn’t bother him. Clearly, it's not the case and Cassain wonders if this is his destiny, to end up like Helion, alone and longing for the woman he’s lost. His heart aches.

“She got away,” his boss answers sadly, eyes dull. “I couldn’t be who she wanted me to be, so she left me. Found herself someone better off than me.” Cassian wonders who it could be. Helion was born in this town and never left, never wanted to, but he’s not sure if it’s because the woman he is still so clearly in love with is here and he’s waiting for his chance to be with her, or if it’s because the man has nowhere else to go. 

“Sounds similar to what I’m going through right now,” Cassian sighs, shoving his goggles up on his head. He’s clearly not going to get any work done, so he slumps into the extra chair by Helion's desk, a frown on his face. “Helion? Is there something you would do differently?”

The older man sighs, assessing him deeply. It makes Cassian shift uncomfortably in his seat. 

And when he speaks, it’s exactly what Cassian needs to hear. “I would’ve gotten the hell out of dodge, had I been smart.”

⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱

The drink he had at Rita’s hadn’t been a good idea. His stomach is in knots, and the alcohol hadn’t helped loosen them in the slightest.

Is he really going to do this? 

He had the entire night to think about his plans, his future. Had Helion been honest when he said that he should’ve left town to avoid the heartbreak that plagued him? Could skipping out actually help mend his aching heart?

It might be worth a shot.

Cassian’s backpack is light, stuffed with only the necessities. He’d called Rhys on his drive back to his apartment, and he’d offered him the second bedroom at his apartment for the summer if the Bronco could make it all the way up to New York. 

It would be a change, a big one that makes his heart pound in his chest to even consider, but if fleeing town like a coward will help him heal from the breakup, it might be worth the shot. 

He decides that he has enough money to make it to New York, and he’ll call Azriel when he gets there, or when he’s on the road and bored of seeing only the highway. He knows Az will be hurt, upset that he didn’t tell him in person, but he’s still mad at the quiet man for keeping your relationship with Eris a secret.

Azriel was being a good friend to you, that Cassian knows, but it still hurts. It hurts to think about Azriel hanging out with you and your sisters and their boyfriends, how he might even actually get along with Eris somehow. The thought of being friends with Eris Vanserra has always been foreign to Cassain.

He takes a last look around his apartment. Azriel will send down the rest of his stuff later, he knows it. His lease ends soon anyway, so if he’s going to leave town, now is the perfect time.

There isn’t anything in this apartment he’ll miss. He’d thrown away the things he kept from your relationship in a fit of rage when he found out about you and Eris. He’d regretted it immediately after.

Cassian loses a breath. A fresh start in a completely different state. This is what he needs.

He shuts off the lights and turns the knob one last time before stepping into the new chapter of his life. New York, here I come.

The streetlight spills through the open crack, illuminating the figure on the other side, hand poised to knock. 

Cassian stills, hand so tight on the knob he thinks it might warp, the sight of you in his doorway a shocking surprise.

You’re twisting your fingers together nervously, shifting on your feet like you’re not sure what you’re doing here at all.

“Hey, Cass…”

[theknightlywolfe]

Oh, look at that. Financial literacy *is* important.

Companies anticipating tariffs buy while things are still cheap because they can't afford to get or straight up can no longer get when the tariff is imposed. The workers won't get a Christmas bonus again while the tariff stands, it will all go to getting product at the higher prices.

Remember Trump's paper tariff on Canadian produced paper? The US straight up *did not produce* many of the paper goods we imported from Canada. US based paper factories could not produce enough at full output to meet the country's paper good needs. Most did not have the equipment necessary to make many products at all.

On top of that, even if the foreign producer or an importer pays the tariff, they pass that on to the buying party. Did you think they just ate the loss? Walmart doesn't eat the loss of sales tax when they sell you shit, they make you pay it. Same thing.

It is important to understand the systems you live under.

[sca-nerd]

Make A Quick and Cheap Circle Cloak

PART 1: JUST THE CLOAK

Step 1. Invite some friends to their first ever event. Make sure it's a cold weather event so that you have to make them cloaks. Then have your Scadian friends ask if you can make them one, as well, because they can't seem to find theirs or found that it wasn't warm enough last year. You have now agreed to make four cloaks.

Step 2. Go to Walmart. Get one (or four) of the $10 fleece blankets in Full/Queen size. If you want a shorter cloak (about waist length) Twin works. But these are all tall mfer's, so I went with the bigger blanket. These blanket don't fray, so there's no need to hem. The edges WILL roll, though, so if you want them to stay flat you'll need to blanket stitch or serge the edges. Or just leave it be, because this is a quick and cheap cloak.

Please note: these ARE polyester so be careful around open flames.

Step 3. Move everything out of the way in your living room, because you don't have any other space big enough to spread this thing out to mark it for cutting. You will probably upset the dogs, but they'll get over it because they're old and still have the couch to sleep on.

Step 4. Fold your blanket in quarters. This means you fold it in half one way, then in half the other way. The material is a bit stretchy, but do your best to make sure that you have your edges matching. Do better than me.

Step 5. Find your scissors and grab either a measuring tape or a long enough piece of string, and a sharpie. Tailors chalk won't mark on this stuff so I usually just use a sharpie instead.

Step 6. Measure the shortest length of the blanket. We already know that it says it is 90x90, but that is a lie. It's actually 90x94 or something like that. Anyway. Measure the shortest length to determine the widest you can make your circle. In this case, we're at 45.

Step 7. Use your tape measure or string like a compass, and mark your cloak. You do this by anchoring one end of the tape measure at the corner of the fold, stretching it out, and marking the fabric at the appropriate length every inch or so. This will create the curve of the circle.

Ignore the fact that I marked this twice. My anchor had come loose and so I had accidentally marked it wrong for a little bit. Anyway. Do this from one edge all the way to the other. Will this be a perfect circle? No. Will anyone be able to tell? Also no.

Step 8. Connect the dots, or find your scissors and just start cutting.

Step 9. Congratulations you have a circle. Now you need a place for your head to go. You do this by measuring two inches from the corner fold, and marking it the same way you did for the body of the cloak. Yes, two inches. Don't worry - your neck WILL fit. This fabric has a lot of stretch to it, and since all of the weight will be pulling from this point it will expand to fit you comfortably. Find your scissors and cut along the dots.

Step 10. Now you have a circle with a hole in the middle of it. Well done. Find your scissors and cut it open, by following the fold from the cut in the neck to the edge of the cloak. This will give you a straight(ish) opening. Try it on and see that I was right about the neck, and you are now cozy and warm.

Step 11. Wait for your housemate to come home so that they can hand-stitch the frog (clasp) closure onto it for you, because you hate hand sewing and she does embroidery as a hobby. Congrats, you have a circle cloak.

PART 2: BUT I WANT A HOOD!

Step 1. Grab that piece you cut off when you made the circle on your blanket. We're gonna turn that into a hood. You only need two matching pieces, but the good news is that you have four. So if you mess up, you still have material to work with.

Step 2. Mark a straight line of 8 inches. This will be the bottom of the hood to connect to the neck of the cloak. Find your scissors and cut it.

Step 3. Find your scissors and cut off the other tail end, making it as deep as you would like your hood to be. Or leave the tail and have a liripipe hood, you do you.

Step 4. Sew up the back and top of the hood. Leave the bottom and face open.

Step 5. Try it on to see if you need to use your back up pieces to make a new hood or not.

That'll do, pig.

Step 6. Pin your hood to the neck of the cloak, and discover that I was right when I said that 2 inches was enough for your neckline.

Step 7. Attach them together. You can do a straight stitch, but I prefer to do a zig-zig, only because there IS a lot of pull on that particular area of the cloak and I like the idea of reinforcement.

Step 8. Try it on. Be warm. Enjoy.

PART 3: GETTING BOUGIE WITH IT

Step 1. Realize that you have made four cloaks out of the same colored blankets because Walmart didn't have any other colors available, and while this isn't necessarily a problem, all four cloaks will be in the same camp and you don't want them to get mixed up or confused for each other.

Step 2. Go find some trim that you have had for years and haven't used up because there's so much of it, or run to the thrift store and see what you can find for cheap. Attach it to the front edge of the cloaks and stitch it down.

Note: you will want to attach trim BEFORE you put your frog on.

Step 3. Silently curse yourself for using wide trim that means you will have to stitch down both sides of it, rather than narrow trim that would only require a zig-zag stitch once down the center.

Step 4. Enjoy.

[l-crimson-l]

Ok so incoming gunpla post about tools:

So you’ve started building! It’s fun! It’s cathartic! And they look so cool!

But…

You kinda want them to look Even Cooler.

You also don’t have a ton of cash and you’re feeling intimidated by how deep this hobby can take you (you’ve seen those cool customs online). No worries! Here’s a couple cheapish (<$40) tools to help you get rolling on taking your kits to the next level.

1) Sanding Sponge/Glass File

These are great bc 1) they’re cheap and 2) do the job wonderfully. Specifically they’re for helping to remove Nub marks off the price you’ve cut from the runner. If you don’t know, Nubs are the leftover plastic still attached to the piece after you’ve clipped it from the runner, they’re important to remove bc of how the kit is engineered. Moving gimmicks or the sturdiness of the kit could be compromised if your pieces can’t fit flush.

The sponge is the cheapest option but it also runs out at some point and you’ll need to replace them. However, the glass file will simply just keep rolling. I bought mine from Newtype about a year and a half ago and it’s still doing great. I believe Walmart might have even cheaper options.

2) Gundam Marker

So you know those grooves on a part that’s sunken in? Those are called Panel Lines! Using this pen (it’s basically a Micron pen) you can color in these lines to help give your kit extra depth. This is especially great on kits that are primarily a single color with few variations (think Calibarn).

All you do is draw in your line and then wipe away with your finger or paper towel or what have you. These are super cheap and you’ll run through half a dozen or so HG’s or even MG’s before you need to think about getting a new one. With this you also don’t need to worry about top coating or being mindful about what you’re applying it over (unlike other panel liners where you need to keep some chemistry in mind).

3) Single Blade Nippers

So these are the most expensive item and while double blade nippers work absolutely, you’ll end up creating less work for yourself with single blade nippers as they can make cleaner cuts off the runner meaning you have less nub to clean up.

These ones I snagged from USA Gundam Store (they give a discount for snagging these) and they work great. Not the greatest durability over multiple kits as they really lose that initial sharpness over the first kit or two, but they stay sharp enough to do the job well. There’s several different options out there (some as expensive as $60 or so) but starting out a cheaper pair is great to have.

I used double sided nippers for the longest time but after switching I firmly believe they’re worth the extra $$ to invest in.

To elaborate on 2 bladed vs single bladed a bit: double blades cut from both sides (obviously) but what this means is that there is stress being applied to the piece from each side. This causes stress marks (if you’ve seen a white spot left behind after a clip that’s a stress mark) which either need cleaned up and painted over or it causes a crater in the part (especially easy to do when the nub is especially large) which either never gets fixed or you need to use tamiya cement to melt plastic and then puddy it innnnn and thennnnn sand everything againnnnn and it’s a pain.

Save yourself the headache. Singe blade nippers are the way. I especially hate those beginner nippers that look like this

I hope this helps you dig a little further down into the plastic crack rabbit hole! With just a little extra effort you can really make your kits pop. You can do it!

As always I really love seeing all the new people building gunpla and making it their own (special shout out to that person who bedazzled their guncannon). Love ya friendos

[communist-hatsunemiku]

Ok since I have a bit more substantial following. I'm going to detail my surefire method for shoplifting from walmart. I've been doing this for a couple years now, without any repercussions, with my method you can do the same. Read this whole guide, and feel free to ask me questions if need be.

So step one: do your shopping as normal, except grab a few 92 cent packages of tuna(anything small, flat and cheap will work). The amount you grab depends on how many things you're going to steal.

While shopping, place the item to be stolen on top of the tuna in your cart. it's very important that you know where the barcodes are located on both items, as this will come into play in a big way. What's also important is that the item is big enough to completely hide the tuna package under it. Otherwise this method can be risky.

Step two: once you are done with your shopping, head to self check out. Keep an eye on the walmart employee who is manning that station, you want to choose a self checkout that is as far away from them as possible (in my experience these people aren't paying THAT much attention and if they are, they dont care. Look for the younger employee, the ones on their phones, they are your best friend). You want your back facing these people as well.

Step three: Time to ring things up.

Something that is crucial is that you are not stealing literally everything.

Some of your items are going to be paid for normally, and ideally it's some high dollar items you have hid the tuna under. You're going to scan the tuna barcode but make it seem like you are scanning the other item's barcode. This is why you need to hide the tuna underneath the item, be careful not to scan the actual item's barcode because you might end up actually buying it lmao.

Proceed to scan your items, I always do the tuna items first, just to get them out of the way and bagged. I then scan the rest of my items normally, proceed to pay and then leave walmart. Those little scanners at the door only work for things with security devices on them, so dont worry about that. once you are in the parking lot you are home free baby! You just saved a fuckton of money and gave a big fuck you to walmart, good job!

Now, I make it seem very simple, and it is easy once you get the hang of it.

But there a few caveats that are very important.

1. You want everything in a bag, because the employee manning the doors are tasked with checking the receipt if you have something that is not bagged. They are lookingfor the unbagged item on the receipt, and if you have a lot of stuff and only some of them aren't paid for, then usually this isn't an issue. They'll see your huge ass tub of kitty litter on there, and ignore the rest. Still, being stopped by any employee is unwanted.

2. Some self checkout kiosks monitor the weight of items you scan and then place in self checkout, the bagging area is a scale. HOWEVER, in recent years, walmart has forgone that method of limiting shoplifting, I think because it would cause more trouble than it's worth. You need to go to your walmart and test this, which is easy to do.

Above all, it's important to act natural, and it's important to practice. Try it with just one item, you will not get in trouble for having a single item not rung up, if caught.

This post has gotten a bit longer than expected, so if you have questions let me know. HAPPY SHOPLIFTING FUCK WALMART TO THE DEPTHS OF HELL