#maybe i can fix this guy up and sell it to get a new one

[cherry-leclerc]

can’t you see ☆ mv1

genre: redbull!driver, enemies to lovers, smut, lando and danny playing cupid lol, protective!max (although he won’t admit it), mean!max, sub!max, dom!reader

word count: 3.2k

In between your mutual dislike with your teammate, Lando and Daniel try their best to make you and Max uncover some hidden feelings.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...penetrative sex, riding, sucking on fingers

req!...quick one, but ahh first maxie drabble. eekk :)

“What a fucking asshole.”

Daniel’s eyes bulge out as he hands you a cup of coffee. It had been an extremely long day. Perhaps not the best idea to keep it going, but it seemed like the FIA didn’t give a shit about that. You were past being upset. You were seething. 

“Uh…Yeah. I mean I get it. I’m tired, too. This red flag came at the worst time-”

Briskly, you take the cup from him, cutting him off. “It’s not the red flag, it’s Max.” Ever since you joined Formula 1 as the first female to drive for Red Bull, you had felt welcomed by everyone. Everyone but your actual teammate. You had thought maybe it was because he had small balls and couldn’t handle the fact that you were driving alongside him, but when you confronted him about it, he only growled. 

As if you would ever cross my fucking mind.

Squinting, you point accusingly at the Australian. “You ought to stop being his friend.” He loudly laughs as he throws his head back. 

“You say that every time.”

Making a face, you shoot back. “And you never choose!”

“You’re both my friends. No one is winning custody.” 

“You’re older than both of us combined.”

“Hey!”

Hey, a low voice replies. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up. A shiver runs down your spine. Max leans up against the nearest wall as he ignores you and keeps his eyes on his friend. You wave your hand up in front of him a couple of times for good measure before your mouth drops open when he acts as if you were Casper the Friendly Ghost. 

“We were just talking abou- Ouch!” Daniel shrieks in pain when you pinch him. Faking a smile, you turn to the Dutchman. We were actually in the middle of something here. Nothing. He just keeps looking past you. Running a hand through his hair, he starts talking about how this all ‘ruined my flow’ and how he was going to have to ‘try to fix the FIA’s mistakes’. You have to laugh.

“Is something funny to you?”

You look around the room as you theatrically shudder. Sipping on the hot beverage, you hum and close your eyes. Max clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he crosses his arms in frustration. Cold weather, Danny. Do you think there’s a place nearby that sells homemade chicken soup?

“What the fuck is your problem?”

“If we find one, then maybe we can invite Lando and-” Suddenly, he reaches out for your cup and hot drops hit your hand. You hiss in pain. “What’s your problem, dickhead?”

Now, a normal reaction would be to be a decent human being and apologize. Offer up their own cup of coffee, perhaps. Not Max. Throwing it into the nearest trash bin, he turns to you. And he actually has the audacity to look upset.

“Why didn’t you let me overtake you? I don’t know if you don’t know this because you’re new or something like that, but here, when we are instructed to do something - we do it.”

Narrowing your eyes, you step closer. “So what? I don’t let you by one time and suddenly I’m the bad guy? Let me remind you that that’s all I’ve done for you this season.”

“Maybe when you’re someone’s number one driver then you won’t have to do shit like this, but until then,” he angles himself lower to you, “...It kinda looks like you have to.”

“Oh. No.” Daniel winces as he sips quietly on his hot drink. He can physically see your wheels turning as you glare back at the Dutchman. Your cheeks have turned light pink as you refrain yourself from yelling in front of all the Alpha Tauri engineers. Max scrunches his nose.

“Cute.”

You’re about to explode and let all hell loose, but just then, the red flag is over. Huffing, you grab your helmet as you walk away without sparing a single goodbye. Daniel frowns. “You need to stop treating her like that.” Max scoffs. Treating her how? The Australian inches closer as he lays a large hand on his friend's shoulder. “Like you don’t care.”

As soon as the race picks back up, you’re in the zone. You have to work twice as hard to overtake anyone in your way, considering most drivers were on new tires, but eventually you worked your way through. Drops of rain hit your visor as you slow down in sector 2. 

“Should I be worried about the rain?”

“Nothing to be worried about, just keep it up.”

You nod, even though Christian can’t see you. As you get closer, you can see Max’s rear wing. He’s fast - zooming, almost - but that only made you want it even more. Defend. I repeat, defend for a 1-2 finish. “Yeah. No.” Entering the DRS zone, you press down on the throttle as you try all tactics to catch up with the 3x World Champion. Fat drops of water hit the Red Bull as you squint in order to not get lost with the commotion. What are you doing? Defend. “I am defending.” You press harder. “Except I’m defending my spot. Not his.”

It’s almost as if he knows what you’re about to do. Quickly, he scans his sideview mirror as he curses when he sees  that you weren’t slowing down. It looks like the two Red Bulls are going head-to-head! Probably not the best idea at the moment considering the tough weather, Crofty announces. Passing Max by, you can’t help but cheer as you try to imagine his reaction. 

“Not what we were picturing, but very well executed. He will be defending now.”

It wasn’t planned to get stung by a boiling hot coffee, of course it wasn’t, despite the bickering between you two. It wasn’t planned to take time to scratch your burnt hand. And it most definitely was not planned to crash.

Plunging into the wall, you groan, curses flowing past your lips. Are you okay? “Yes. I’m okay.” Lifting your visor, you shyly wave at the grandstands. Would you mind going over to check on Max? He’s currently not responding. Your heart stops. Jumping off your seat, you climb out of your car as you turn and sure enough, Max’s Red Bull is ruined. 

“Are you alright?”

Throwing a thumbs up, he lifts himself out of his car to wave at the fans. He turns to you, dark blue helmet still over his head. “What the fuck was that all about?” You narrow your eyes.

“What do you mean? I got an itch.” And though he wears his helmet, you can’t help but notice the crinkles by his eyes. Your stomach flips. It's because of the crash. That’s all it is. You clear your throat. “What happened to you? You were driving well.” Professionally, he slides his gloves off as he waves over at the safety car.

“I had to check on you one way or another, right?”

Dumbfounded, you're faced with his back as he walks away.

-

“He’s into you, can’t you see it!”

“No. Jesus, don’t even say that.” Lando raises his brows as he throws his legs on top of your bed. Daniel hums from underneath the covers. He’s right, though. Pulling the sheets off, you scowl. “Don’t give me reasons to kick you both out.” Throwing yourself onto the mattress, you smile widely. “Soooo, what’s new?”

It’s all you three are ever good for. Pure gossip. Chewing hard on a piece of pizza, you gag. Daniel cackles as he reaches for the last slice. Hey! What if I wanted that? He cocks his head. Fine, you mumble.

“All I wanted was a warm soup.”

A gentle knock echoes through the room as you all turn to face it. Go and open it, Daniel hisses. Wha- No! You go open it, Lando whispers back. Bunch of babies, you murmur as you untangle yourself from your blanket. Swinging the door open, you freeze. Standing tall is Max with a paper bag at  hand.

“Hey.”

Peeking out into the hallway, you stare back confused. “Hey?”

Almost timidly, he kicks his feet up against the wall with a small smile. He extends his arm out, signaling for you to take the mysterious bag. I don’t want any problems, you choke out, feeling skeptical. His blue eyes grow wide.

“Oh. No, don’t worry!” He opens the bag and takes out a small container. Leaning forward, you feel blood rising up to your cheeks. “It’s just soup.”

After an awkward exchange, he leaves. Inhaling the delicious scent, you let out a dreamy sigh.

“He so likes her.”

-

“We might have been wrong.”

Lando tilts his head, curly strands bouncing at the motion. Daniel hurriedly takes a seat next to the Brit as he smacks his large hands on the table. “What do you mean, mate?”

Daniel scans the room quickly before shaking his head. “I mean, that I just heard them two. They were going at it.” Lando blushes as he lets out an awkward laugh. I don’t even want to know. The Australian bites back a smile as he continues. “Not like that. Yet. What I mean is that they’re back to square one. He’s being a complete dick.”

“Alright. Looks like we have to knock some sense into him.”

-

Go, Daniel mouths once Max enters the debrief room, eyes entertained on his phone screen. Pushing past the Dutch, Charles jogs over to where you sit next to George. “Hey!” Greeting him back with a warm smile, you pat to the open seat. “I was wondering if you wanted to grab a bite after this. Maybe some chicken soup?” You beam.

“I love a good soup!”

Rapidly, Max’s ears perk up as he hears your conversation with the Monegasque. He was well over the rivalry, but with this? He would not second guess bringing it back. He clenches his jaw as he notices you nodding along with Charles. Strolling over to the small group, he shoots a bitter grin.

“Did you see Christian’s message about our last minute meeting?”

“Hello to you, too.” Checking your phone, you look back confused with a pout. “No. I haven't received anything.”

“Yeah, well, there’s one-”

“No, there's not.” Flickering your eyes behind your teammate, you’re even more lost. With hands on his hips, Christian taps his shoe as his eyes flicker between his two Red Bull drivers. “Don’t mind him, sweetheart. There’s no meeting.” He sends a small wink at Charles before walking off to the rest of the team principles. Max slumps.

“Ha. Guess it got canceled or something like that…”

Rushing over Lando and Daniel, Charles hunches over as he starts blabbering. “Did it work? Please tell me it worked - God - I think I almost shit myself. Tell me it fucking wo-”

The Brit points discreetly to where Max paces the room, orbs trained on you like a guard dog.

“It’s definitely working.”

He smacks a one hundred dollar bill onto a large hand. 

“And thank you for the help, too, Mr. Horner.”

-

Despite the attempts to get you and Max together, nothing seemed to work. The blue eyed boy would appear to start registering his feelings, and at the last minute, would completely chicken out. It would be an outright lie to say that this didn’t entertain the Alpha Tauri and McLaren boys, but they also knew that they had to continue their fairy godparent duties.

“Watch it!”

Crashing onto the couch inside of the Red Bull Hospitality, Max’s face bounces against it. He groans in pain before throwing a harsh stare at his friends. Lando stiffles a giggle as Daniel raises his arms up in defense. Getting seated, the Dutch looks back with a sour expression. 

“What’s this hostile situation about?”

Lando panics as he turns to his mate. The Aussie licks his lips, patting his lap. “Look, we’ve noticed a few things-” What things? He huffs. “Maybe if you would just let me finish-” That’s what she said! He glares at Lando who slaps a hand over his mouth, tears from unreleased laughter painting his blue eyes. “As I was saying…We’ve noticed your behavior towards a special little someone…”

“Towards Heidi? Shit. I didn’t think it’d be that noticeable.”

Lando clicks his fingers rapidly before pointing at the Red Bull driver. “He’s trying to not talk about it because he knows where this is going!” No, I’m not, Max shrieks as his voice cracks. Blushing, he pushes his hat lower to his face.

“You like her!”

“You know I like Heidi! She’s good for you-”

“You know that’s not who we’re talking about.”

It’s silent for a while. Standing up, Daniel goes to sit next to the 26 year old. Running a hand over his face, Max’s sighs as he looks up. “I’m not…used to feeling this way, okay?” 

“That’s totally fine, but that doesn’t give you the right to treat her like a piece of gum stuck at the bottom of your shoe. She’s amazing. Could have anyone - and I mean anyone - but she likes you. I don’t know why or how, but she likes you.” Daniel scoots away when Max narrows his eyes.

“She doesn’t like me.”

Jumping over the coffee table, Lando plops down. “Yes! She does. Ask me how I know.” A bored expression slashes Max’s face as he asks anyway. How, Lando? How do you know? “Because she’s always fighting with you.”

Daniel clicks his tongue as he slowly squints his brown eyes. “I don’t think you’re making the point you think you’re making, mate.” The Brit waves him off.

“I’m dead serious. When she gets upset, she always walks away because she claims to not want to waste her time on stupid arguments. But with you,” he pushes his index finger against the Red Bull polo, “With you she never - ever - walks away. Sure, you’re both at each others throats, but that only means one thing.” He leans against the sofa as he takes a sip of the open energy drink. 

“She doesn’t mind wasting time on you.”

-

After some more convincing, the duo had managed to raise the 26 year olds confidence. They could be wrong. Embarrassingly wrong, but how would he ever know if he never tried? Taking in a deep breath, he finds himself knocking on your door.

“More soup?”

Sheepishly, he shakes his head. His heart skips a beat as he notices how laid back you seem. How relaxed you were. He was going to ruin all that. He was going to say something that would change everything and things might never be the sa-

“Wanna come in?”

Handing him a plate of cut up watermelon, you take a seat in front of him, legs tucked beneath your butt. What are you doing out so late at night, Mr. Max Verstappen? He sets the plate down as he forces himself to mold into his chair. 

“I’ve never hated you.”

You blink. Clearing his throat, he looks down to his lap as he fiddles his fingers. “I know I’ve been such a bad teammate - I know - but I promise that it never had to do with you.”

“Okay. So…then what did it have to do with?”

He lets out a croaky laugh as he shuts his eyes. “That’s the tough part…” Opening his blue eyes, he finds you staring back, waiting for an answer. “I feel the opposite of hate…towards you.” He hates the way your face doesn’t change and you remain still. He hates when you shrink back and chew on your lip.

But he could never find himself hating the moment you climb onto his lap.

“T-that’s not what I came here for-”

“I know.” You slide your hands against his stubble. “Your confession was…adorable. Had trouble saying those words out loud, right? Because you,” you strum your finger against his chest, “...You don’t have feelings. You don’t have a heart.”

Now he’s frowning as he tries to unravel your words. A giggle bubbles up your throat, eyes crinkling shut. His breath hitches. “I feel things…” Your heart twirls with the way his voice sounds. Sure you do, Maxie- 

Grabbing your face with his left hand, he kisses you. It’s hot, feverish, and impatient.

It’s him.

Whimpering, you grind against him as he groans underneath you. Forcing himself to pull away from your warm lips, he cocks his head to the side. “Was that enough proof?”

“I might need more.”

It’s such a moment of pure adrenaline, that you can’t even pinpoint the moment your hatred towards him had turned into lust. All you know is that it felt so good to be riding him. Squeezing your hips, he lifts you up as he lets out a strained moan. The sound itself makes you drip even more. 

You had always loved his voice. How croaky it was. But you never imagined that it would turn your entire world upside down to hear him moaning your name like a prayer. Oh, fuck. Holy shit. Pushing his hands down, he opens his eyes as he looks back, weak and concerned. He worries you might have suddenly regretted all of this. That you would walk away and never want to talk to him ever again. But he’s already kissed you. He’s already been inside of you. 

He would beg you to stay in order to make you keep it that way.

“B-baby.” He whimpers with the way you dig yourself against him before circling your hips. Slow. “It’s okay if you want to stop-” You slide his fingers into your mouth. He swears he could finish with such a pretty sight.

“I don’t want to. I just want you to say sorry for everything you’ve ever done to me.”

“I already said I never meant any of it! You’re absolutely everything to me.”

Your core grows tighter with his affirmations. Holding onto his broad shoulders, you continue your sinister rhythm. “Maybe. But I still want one.”

“I’m so-”

Rubbing your bare tits against his chest, he shudders as he harshly pinches your thigh. Try again. “I said I’m so-” Pulling all the way out, you slide back down onto his cock. “Oh - don’t fucking do that.”

“Try again.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m so fucking sorry.”

A satisfied smile slides onto your plump lips as you nod before kissing him and riding him the way you know he deserves. With one last hop, you both finish as he moans into your neck. Your fingers push his sweaty, blondish strands away before pressing your lips against his cheek. He smiles weakly.

“I like you, too.” You look down before returning your attention. “But I can’t be with you.”

“Wh-”

“Max. Let’s be realistic here. I’m a girl in Formula 1. You don’t know how hard I’ve worked to get here. I’ve had to do twice the work simply because I’m not a man.” You roll your eyes. “People are going to hate me. Call me names - God, I can already hear them.”

He never thought his heart could actually hurt for someone. You were really messing him up. He gingerly rubs small circles against your cheek.

“I’ll ruin whoever says anything bad about you, but please give this a chance. I’ve never wanted someone as bad as I do you. Please.”

And yes, there will be nasty comments. Hateful interpretations about your relationship. But that never really mattered as long as you had him. 

[ckret2]

So y'all know the Gravity Falls production bible that leaked three weeks ago. Someone in one of my discord servers pointed this out:

And, naturally, that spawned an entire AU.

AU Concept: Ford was kicked out instead of Stan and takes a job as a trucker to makes ends meet since he couldn't go to college, while still studying the weird and anomalous however he can.

Ford driving around from quirky small town to quirky small town, drifting through the liminal spaces of truck stops, meeting odd people in isolated diners, seeing strange things out on the road—a deer with too many eyes bounding across a two-lane highway, a flirty woman at a rest stop who doesn't blink or breathe, mysterious lights in the sky at night, inhuman growls on the CB or 50-year-old broadcasts on the radio—and taking notes when he stops for gas or food.

Aside from having gotten kicked out before graduating high school, Ford's the same person he is in canon.

He's still an ambitious guy, and here "ambitious" means working hard and saving as much money as he can—so, a long haul owner-operator who spends weeks at a time on the road. (He goes through a LOT of educational audiobooks.) Plus, this is the easiest way for him to get to travel the country; and since it looks like his "travel the world" dreams with Stan are dead, he'll take what he can get.

Since he's never in the same spot long and carries his life in a truck, almost all of Ford's research is in his journal. His bag of investigation supplies has an instant camera, a portable tape recorder, a thermometer, a flashlight, rubber gloves, and a few zip lock bags—and that's about it. It has to share space with all his clothes, toiletries, and nonperishable food when he's on the road. He doesn't have much opportunity to closely examine anything odd he finds, unless he's lucky enough to run into something when he can stop for the night. He has to cram his paranormal research around the side of his full-time job.

He doesn't live in Gravity Falls, but he knows it exists. Every time he moves—to Chicago, to Nebraska, to California—he seems to inch closer. He currently lives in Portland and usually hauls loads between the Pacific Northwest and Chicago or New York. He stops at the truck stop outside Gravity Falls when he can and has gone fishing in town a few times. He doesn't have the benefit of extensive research to know that this is the weirdest town in the world; but it seems pretty weird to him, there are local rumors about the town, and he's had some weird experiences in the area.

Plus, he can't explain it, but it's like the town's calling to him. He wants to move there, but it'd put him over an hour outside of Portland where the nearest jobs are. Maybe if somebody chucked him like $100k to build a cabin in the woods; but what are the odds of that?

He does know Fiddleford. Truck broke down somewhere and Fiddleford kindly pulled over to fix it on the fly. They looked at each other, had mutual knee-jerk "dumb trucker/hillbilly" reactions, and within ten minutes both went "oh wait you're the most brilliant genius i've ever met." Fiddleford's living the same life he was in canon before Ford called him to Gravity Falls—with his family in California, trying to start a computer company out of his garage—but they make friends and keep in contact.

One time Ford stops at a kitschy roadside knickknack store that also sells new agey magic things—crystals, tarot cards, incense, etc. He bought a "lucky" rearview mirror ornament that looks like an Eye of Providence in a top hat and hung it from his cab fan, and ever since then he's had weird dreams whenever he sleeps in his truck.

Things I don't know yet: what Stan's up to; or why Ford's the one who got kicked out. I tend to believe that in canon Stan wasn't just kicked out because he ruined Ford's college prospects, but rather because the family thought he deliberately sabotaged Ford; so in this AU, Ford would've been kicked out over a proportionate crime.

[technically-a-kiwi]

The cosmic cast in color ! ✨

Finaly ! They're all here !

First we have

Peppino Spaghetti THE CHEF

From his pizza oven, he cooks and gives shape to all the multiverse, a very unstable being, destoying things aroud him on a MASSIVE scale when angered. Even if his work is worthy of a god, he claims he's nothing more then a little pizza chef making simple pizzas.

The Noise THE HOST

(yes, I didn't do another art for cosmic Noise c'cause he doesn't need one FOR HE WAS PERFECT FROM DAY ONE ! and because I'm... tired 😵)

If you see a mysterious program playing on your TV, one that you've never seen before, it might be because of this gremlin ! TV host and little chaos bringer, this being of pure mischef will make you wish you were never born as soon as you interact with him. Better pray he get's disinterested from you 'cause once your his target, he will NEVER give you a break, unless he decides to cut his program for a smoke...

Noisette THE MESSENGER

What appears to be a shooting star up high in the sky has a very little chance to actually be this being, from her magic umbrella she travels around the multiverse to briefly open a little café and sell her cosmic pastries. The reason she’s referred as the messenger is because she’s the one who serves as a messenger when cosmic entities don’t want to talk to each other.

The constellations CHILDREN OF THE STARS

Libra, Orion, Cassiopea, Cancer and Gemini, those are the five constellations names, they sometimes visit universes but are not allowed to go alone. They enjoy learning about new places and conceps, even scary ones .

Pepperman THE ARTIST

In a far away dimension, this entity paints and sculps the many art pieces you can find in his galery. He's the master of his atelier, sometimes allowing his students to work on tiny parts of his work. After completing a collection, he sets off to some universes and opens his museum. Are you curious enough to witness those otherworldly works of art ?

The Vigilante VIGIL OF REALITY

When the laws of physics are broken, he'll be there and make those outlaws pay the price... he also is a little farmer who lives in the middle of nowhere, growing cropes and other veggies, he's quite a nice guy.

The Ticket stand ...

in the darkest of corners of an abandoned street, your might meet with this entity. You can buy a ticket, what happens after that solely depends on you.

Pizzahead THE WANDERER ( feat. Pizzaface [design made by @chaotichyperfixations])

A very jolly and silly entity, wandering across the multiverse sharing his performences to whoever wants to see, alongside him is a conscious universe, who wants to get to the rank of cosmic entity, he's not the friendliest of companions but seeing his attemps fall flate is very funny.

Mr Stick THE BANKER

A very nasty entity, he sees high value in money, specificaly money that isn't his. He goes to people in instable economical state, writting their names in his book and claims he has the ability as a cosmic entity to fix their problems, only this is a trick to slowly get every dollar out of their pocket. He sees himself as the boss of every cosmic entity, only nobody ever gave him that title or the respect that comes with it.

Here's how they look like withous the light:

I forgot the sparkles for almost all of them... Maybe I should have given a little more time into this...

[kafka-ish]

I think if Art wasn’t as serious about tennis he’d be such a coworker. Maybe it’d be in between summers at Stanford and it’s your first week there. He’s scheduled to train you, show you the ropes but when you first walk in he thinks you’re just another customer, a really pretty customer that’s got him changing up the script. Hey! How’s it going? What can I do for you? Find everything alright? He’s already thinking of ways he can slip you his number, maybe he’ll write it on your receipt. And he’s typing in his ID to give you his discount, anything until you say, “Actually, I work here.”

Art stops typing. Looks up, completely dumbstruck because you’re too pretty to be selling yourself out for some minimum wage corporation, to be doing any sort of labor. You need to be taken care of; any reason you should step foot in here would be to pick out a new tennis racket for a match you have. But you’re here. You work here. So he cancels out the order and says something about how he’ll get you a t-shirt, stay there.

He’ll take you to the back where the employee bathrooms are. You watch his fingers when he punches the numbers. “It’s like a six,” he says, and you think about that every time you use the code to get in. He waits for you outside the door while you’re changing, wishing he could get a glimpse, wishing he could be on the other side. He gets hard just thinking about it. He thinks about the kind of bra you’re wearing, if you’re wearing one, what you look like underneath the fabric. And he thinks you look so cute in that work-issued uniform even if the collar of your shirt isn’t folded over correctly - it only gives him the urge to reach over and fix it. Sorry, he says when he retracts his hand and sees the look you give him. He doesn’t mean it, not entirely, by the way a smile starts working its way on his face.

Art would give you a tour before you get started. He wants to show you around and he loves that he gets to be the first one to make an impression. Fucking revels in it. But he’s also weighted with the worry of making a good impression so some of his delivery is awkward: this is the stockroom it’s where we get stuff to… stock / we separate brands in sections so if someone asks where adidas is you can point to the three lines back there / managements making us ask everyone if they wanna round up their change but you don’t have to. I just ask anyone who’s paying cash. Or if they’re cute. The system makes you put their email in. He flushes a little because he doesn’t know why he says that last part.

I think Art would be so patient when he’s training you. He would take his time to over-explain everything and he doesn’t realize he comes off sounding like a douche. Telling you what all the buttons mean and asking if you want to come with him when he’s about to stock something just so you can see where it is for next time, obviously. But it’s just an excuse to talk to you!! He doesn’t know how and he figures since you both work there it’s an easy in and you think it’s so adorable that because it’s a slow day he’s pretending to be your first customer, gathering random items, having you scan them, and reminding you to ask if he wants to round up his change for charity.

“Not today”

“Okay, your total will be—”

“Hold on. You don’t want my email?”

“Well, you said no so…”

“No. Convince me. Really try and convince me.”He wants to know what lengths you’d go for him if this is how you’d happen to meet. So you say, okay it’s for this charity you guys are having.

“Say it’s for homeless animals. They eat that shit up,” Art lets you in on this piece of information like the manipulator he is.

“Is that what you do?”

And Art would make sure to stay near you just in case you need something, always bags the customers’ items so you can focus on the transaction. He loves the way you say his name, how timid you are when you whisper Art when you need help. He imagines that’s how you say it when he’s eating you out.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

I’m loving so much the new disowned verse omg, it is so good, you are a genius.

But I’m curious, how did reader and jason met?

The apartment was in a cracker box of a building with thin walls. His neighbors were a young couple that fought about money 25/8 and an elderly 'Nam Vet who liked his porno but- he could cope.

It was different than Gotham. There weren't constant gunshots. And that was weird. But. He knew better than to think his PI license wouldn't make him some money. Even out in the sticks. There was always a contentious divorce. There was always something not quite right. Cops in over their heads.

And he'd have down time. He could read. Work on his bike. Fuck. Maybe even actually go see a movie... Sure. He knew eventually he'd get bored but. For now, he was looking forward to it.

He shut the door and locked it behind him, frowning just slightly and making a note to get a better lock while he was out. He doubted he could find anything super great in town- he'd probably have to order something but. He'd passed a hardware store in town so... it might be worth checking out. If he made friends with the old guy that probably ran it he could probably get some special orders if he needed it.

So he set off that direction, wandering on foot down the sidewalks and taking note of the other houses. It was the middle of the afternoon. And the lunch whistles at the old factory still sounded at nood and then 30 minutes later. Tucked away from the tree-lined main drag, the houses back here varied from run down to better homes and gardens.

That tracked.

They got better closer to the front. The older show homes outweighed the eyesores. American primitive lawn decor. A surprising number of pineapples- and he snorted, wondering if it had come from a big box store or if it was a signal. Or both.

Still.

By the time he made it to the hardware store, he was reasonably certain he could stay busy. All was not as Leave it to Beaver as the Town Council would have you believe. And the first place he was gonna leave a flyer was in the beauty shop. Those old biddies HAD to have some shit to stir up.

He shouldered the door open and a bell, an actual bell, chimed. And he smiled a little taking a deep breath. The smell of dust, tools, and old well-maintained wood hit his nose and he exhaled. Definitely not going to find any high tech locks here. But, he had a soft spot for independent shops.

"Be with you in a minute!"

The voice made him jump. Not the gruff voice of a grumpy old fuck he expected. And it made him search of the source. Curious. "No worries," he said, walking a little farther towards where he'd heard it. Finding a young woman on a ladder stocking some boxes of bolts on a shelf. A pink canvas gardening apron tied around her hips to hold more boxes. "You got door locks?" he asked.

"Aisle 5 next to the paver catalogs," you tell him, steadying yourself so you can turn and glance down at him.

"Perfect," he said, "Thanks."

"Mhm, let me know if you need anything else," you tell him.

Jason paused and looked around, "Think you can put a tool box together for me I just moved and-"

"Ah, yeah. One Bachelor special," you tell him," Jumping down from the ladder, "I think I can get you fixed up. At least enough to get you started. You'll be smashing your thumbs in no time."

"Got a first aid kit too?"

"Right up at the counter," you snort. "But if you want anything special, you gotta see Adam at the Pharmacy. Mine are pretty basic."

"I can deal with basic- at least until you sell me a band saw-"

"Oh lord."

[so-i-did-this-thing]

from a trans guy stuck in florida, do you have any advice on getting out of here? I saw that you moved to new england which is, coincidentally, the place I'm trying to go too. i feel like I either oversimplify or overcomplicate moving away until it's just not possible in my mind. how did you manage to do it?

I played a long game wrt my exit strategy. I left my toxic industry (advertising) of 20+ years behind in 2018 and built up experience over the next 4 years in a new field (civic tech) where remote work was the norm. Once I landed a fully remote job, I kicked off the moving plan.

Once I had a new, remote job secure, my partner and I started looking for homes and eventually were referred to a Realtor who specialized in remote sales. I had to trust her and the inspector to give us an honest assessment of a house I wouldn't see in person until the day we moved in. It was stressful, ngl.

I was very, very lucky in that I could move in with my mother in Orlando for several months, which let me sell my old place, first, and be flexible on move-in dates. The actual move was done via a few container services.

So, my advice for initial prep:

Start downsizing, both in terms of stuff and places where you may be overspending.

Get job prospects in sight

Save for a down payment / deposit

Get your credit to "excellent," if possible. (I learned my name change fucked up my score, so had to spend a lot of time fixing that)

Research multiple towns based on your needs

Find someone in that area to house hunt for you and figure out a budget

Downsize your stuff again. More. No, more than that.

Prep for moving costs

Start packing the stuff you won't need for a while. Keep packing until it's time to move.

Hire a container service that isn't PODS. (U-pack was good to me.)

Get your pet logistics in order (if you have any)

Get your vehicle in order

I had a lot of spreadsheets and checklists t9 get me through the sale of my old place and everything I needed to do to buy and move into a new one. Maybe similar is a good place to start, because there are little things (like downsizing) you can do, now. Good luck.

[xhoneygirlxx]

Fade Me

Older!Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

summary: your night is ruined when your date is a no show. maybe the handsome stranger at the end of the bar can fix it.

warnings: slight angst. reader is 30, Eddie is early 40s. Modern au! Reader's date sucks. Eddie is a sweetheart. Fluff. Swearing. Shitty writing and grammar mistakes!!! Not proofread!!!! Also Minors go away, I'm an 18+ blog.

*if I missed anything lmk

a/n: WELCOME TO MY BIRTHDAY BASH EVERYONE!!!!!!! I'm so excited to be celebrating with all of you guys!! This isn't my best work but I think its cute and that's all that matters. Love you all and hope you guys like this <3

Oh, maybe, you could devastate me.

Little lady, come and fade me.

Everything at the moment was pissing you off, setting spark to the last small fuse that sat within you. The pain from sitting on the hard bar stool was shooting pain right to your tailbone, not going away no matter how many times you switch your position. The unforgiving squeeze of the uncomfortable heels radiated pain all over your feet and you knew they would be swollen in the morning. The group of rowdy girls at the back of the bar were shrieking with joy over something you have no idea about, but you did know that you wanted to drag all of them by their scalp and remove them from the bar. 

This was stupid, so fucking stupid, and you knew from the very start that it wasn’t going to work. It never does and the next time you see your friends, they aren't going to hear the end of it. Dating sites and dating in general were things you didn’t like to partake in and for good reason. 

Out of all your friends, you happened to be the only single one and you were fine with that, but they weren’t. They begged you, since the moment you broke up with your college sweetheart, to get back out into the dating world. It was actually irritating that they cared so much about your relationship status so much, if you were hooking up with anyone, all under the guise of wanting you to be happy. Truthfully they did want you to be happy and they knew you craved having a relationship, but you were pissed and wanted to stew in your own anger.

Well, right now you were everything but happy. In fact you were furious. Furious with yourself, with them, and most importantly your stupid ass date, Luke. After your thirtieth birthday, your friends all but tackled your phone out of your grasp, making you a stupid tinder profile. 

“Thirty is the new twenty one, babe,” Dahlia said as she and the two other girls scrolled through pictures to post. 

Twenty one your ass, you think, especially with the way you’re fighting a yawn at only nine thirty on a Friday night. 

So you gave in, swiped on a few different people who snatched your attention, one of them being Luke. He was handsome, smiling brightly with a bottle of Corona in his hand and a pair of Raybans perched on the bridge of his nose. His bio was simple, straight to the point, and it was the least douchey thing you’ve read while on the app. 

After making short conversation, you learned that he was an investment banker, working in the Citibank building downtown. His interests were the same as yours, very shy yet loved to have a good time with friends. The best selling point was his dog, Cali, that could be seen in a few of the other pictures he had. 

You were sold, with his witty banter and the fact that he had his life together at thirty two didn’t make the decision hard, especially when all the other people you know that are your age don’t have a solid plan. Which in argument's sake is fine, however you weren’t getting any younger and the want to get married and start a life with someone was getting strong, even though you’d never admit it to your friends. 

So that’s why you’re sitting in a swanky bar in downtown Indy, waiting patiently for your date, who happens to be an hour late, in a dress you spent sixty dollars on. It was a pathetic feeling really, putting this much faith into a stranger in the hopes of finding the one. It’s actually why you didn’t want to do it in the first place and why your friends would have to face your wrath when you get home. 

The buzzing of your phone on the wooden bar jolts you awake, the wave of adrenaline coursing through your veins making your heart pump erratically. 

IMessage 

Luke: Sorry for the last minute text but I’m not going to be able to make it tonight. Had to stay late at the office today, I hope you understand. 

With a defeated sigh you turn your phone face down, not having the energy to cuss the asshole out for making you wait so long. Pulling your focus on the bartender, you flag him over and order a martini. Dry martini. Very dry. 

When the man places the glass in front of you, he gives you a weak smile as if he knows what’s happening. He probably does know what’s happening, he’s probably seen this happen more times than he’d like to admit and it only adds to your frustration. 

Muttering a small thanks, you take a big swig from the crystal glass, letting the liquor burn down your esophagus. It hits your stomach causing an instant burn, more fuel to the fire that’s been shimmering below the surface. The pity you started to feel has now turned into a new found rage. 

Quickly picking up your phone, you ignore the burn from the sting of the bright light, and tap on Luke’s text. 

Staring at it, you can feel the fire ripping through your body, all the anger and embarrassment you’ve let build up while sitting here coming out as you read his last message. 

Luke: Sorry for the last minute text but I’m not going to be able to make it tonight. Had to stay late at the office today, I hope you understand.  

You: That would’ve been awesome to know about an hour ago. Thank you for wasting my Friday night asshole. 

Before you can text more insults, a gruff voice interrupts the quick tapping of your acrylic nails on the screen.  

“Trust me sweetheart, he’s not worth it.” Pulling your gaze from your phone, you try to find the owner of the voice. 

Turning to your right you see him, two seats away from you, tucked away into the corner at the end of the bar. You’re not sure when he got there or if he’s been there the whole time but his presence alone is pissing you off. You’re ready to aim your dagger like tongue at him and tell him to go fuck himself when you take in his appearance. 

A plain black tee shirt pulled taunt across his broad chest, tattooed arms squeezed by the material just right. On his hands sits more black ink and nice silver rings, gleaming in the low light of the bar. His hair is brown with a streak or two of salt and pepper mixed in, wisps of hair framing his face from where it fell out of the low bun it’s been pulled into. The crows feet by his eyes are fitting, especially when his dimpled smile is peaking through from where it sits behind his glass of whiskey. 

He seems older, at least from the discolored hair and stubble on his chin, but he’s very handsome. Actually he’s hot and if you weren’t so mad right now, you’d be flirting with him. That’s not the case though, not when he has a smug ass smile on his face like he’s all knowing. 

“What d’you know?” You bite back, waiting for the handsome stranger to answer. When he takes more than a second to answer, you cock an eyebrow at him like it’s taking him too long. 

“I shouldn’t have assumed,” He replies cooly, putting his glass down on the coaster, “Don’t text her, it’s not worth it.” When his eyes meet yours, you can’t help but stop breathing. 

Big brown eyes looking right at you, so soft and gentle. You sink into the warmth of his eyes on you, almost letting yourself drift away. But you’re mad and this stranger is the perfect person to let it all out on. 

“No they’re not a she, and even if it was you don’t know anything.” You look back down at your phone, tapping away at your keyboard finishing what you had started. When you hear him huff out a laugh, the frown that was on your face before quickly deepens. 

“You’re right, sweetheart, I don’t know anything. What I do know is when a pretty girl like yourself has been sitting alone at a bar for longer than an hour and suddenly starts tapping away on that thing, like you are right now, I know she’s been stood up.” 

His statement brings you right back out of your phone, willing yourself not to wipe that ‘know it all’ look right off of his pretty face. Your scowl is piercing right through him, hating the way that he could see right through you and yet not having a clue who you were. 

“Hey, I’m not judging,” He throws his hands up in surrender, “But I promise, whatever douche made someone as stunning as you, wait in a bar this long for ‘em, doesn’t deserve you. Plus, you’re too pretty to be lookin’ that angry.” He picks his glass up, finishing off the rest before nodding to the bartender for another. 

In any other situation you’d be telling them off, yelling at them to get lost, but something about this stranger feels different. You could write it off and say it’s because he’s attractive but in all actuality, it’s because he’s gentle when he says it. His eyes aren’t roaming your body like some pig, hoping to get into your panties by sweet talking to you. It’s like he actually cares about you, the stranger in her pretty dress who has been stood up by her date, like he’s known you his whole life. 

Slowly you set your phone down, relaxing the sour look on your face, and you take a deep breath. The last thing you want to do is cry, especially in a bar, and especially in front of the caring hot stranger. 

“Is it that obvious?” You ask shyly, picking up your martini glass for another sip. The man shakes his head, moving his posture so that he’s leaning towards you. 

“Don’t do that,” he says, “Don’t start thinking down on yourself. Yes it was a little obvious but my suspicion grew more when you didn’t order a drink after sitting at a bar for five minutes.” 

The statement makes you laugh wetly when he says it, a single tear escaping your eye causing you to wipe it hoping it’s not noticeable. If he sees it, he doesn’t say anything, instead moving over to the seat next to you. 

“Listen, don’t let whatever dickhead person ruin your night. From what I’ve witnessed you’re a pretty badass chick, so whatever frat bro did this to you should be scared.” An inked hand places a white napkin in front of you, a peace offering that you’re quick to take. 

“That’s the worst part, he’s not even a frat bro. He’s a finance bro.” When you chance a look up at him, he’s looking right back at you, pearly white teeth staring at you. 

In a split second he’s laughing, a deep belly kind of laugh with his head thrown back. As much as you want to defend yourself, tell him that Luke wasn’t your first choice, you can’t. Following suit, you start giggling as well, placing the white napkin to the corner of your eye to collect any unushered tears. 

“I gotta tell you sugar, that’s even worse.” The pet name doesn’t get lost on you, heart stuttering the minute it falls from his lips. Trying to pull yourself together, hoping he didn’t see the way you stiffened at the name, you clear your throat. 

“Tell me about it,” You playfully roll your eyes, taking a sip of what’s left of your drink. 

When you move your sight back over to him, he’s leaning back, dimples showing off, almost like he knows something you don’t. He does know something however, he knows that he has some sort of effect on you, watching you with pink flushing your cheeks and it’s not from the alcohol. 

“So,” You break the silence, “Sugar, huh?” You furrow your brows questioningly and it only makes him smile bigger than before. 

When he leans forward you catch a whiff of his scent, pine and cedar, musky and smoky. He’s even prettier up close and your eyes are trying to map out every detail of him so that you can remember it when you go to sleep tonight, dreaming of the good looking stranger who made your night better. 

“Well, between the softness of your laugh and your scowl that could kill,” his voice is low and husky, saying a secret for only you to hear, “You have a little bit of sugar and spice. Kind of like that cartoon with the badass power wielding girls.” 

“Do you mean the PowerPuff Girls?” Cocking your head to the side you laugh, his true age showing in the way that he described the Cartoon Network show. 

“I’m showing my true age, huh? Well, in my defense I was fifteen and you probably weren’t born yet.” His crows feet become more defined. Shaking your head, you wave to the bartender for another martini. 

“Actually, I was five but you were close enough.” His eyes go wide in shock with your admission. When another glass is placed in front of you, you send a smile to the bartender and he gives you one back. 

Looking back at the man next to you, you raise an eyebrow, questioning why he’s so surprised at your age. Blowing out a big breath it seems he’s been holding the whole time, he takes a swig of his own drink. 

“Sorry, I just,” he sighs, looking back up at you quizzingly, “wow, you’re really thirty?” Although there’s no malice behind his question, you can’t help but frown at him. He notices and immediately back tracks. 

“Fuck, no not like that I just meant,” You wait for him to dig himself a deeper hole. When he finally gets his thoughts together, he looks at you, really looks at you and it makes you want to melt. “Listen, I really didn’t mean it like that, I promise. Honestly, I felt like a perv when I first started talkin’ to you, thinkin’ you were like twenty one. When you said you were thirty, I was just surprised, that’s all. Maybe a little excited knowing I might have a chance.” 

You take in what he says to you, how sincere his voice is, and you know he isn’t lying. You don’t want to give in so fast though, you want him to sweat it out a bit. So you take a sip of your drink, your eyebrow still arched in fake annoyance. With an extra shot of courage, you look over at him, fake pout on your red stained lip. 

“How can you have a chance when I don’t even know your name?” Your voice is like silk, smooth and soft. The older man clearly likes it, the way a smirk is formed on his pink kissable lips is a clear indicator. 

“M’Eddie, Eddie Munson,” He offers you his ringed hand for a handshake, “And you are?” You give him your name and he hums with delight. “A pretty name for a pretty girl.” 

You snort loudly at his comment, covering your mouth to stop from any further laughter from falling from your lips. Eddie arches an eyebrow at you, questioning what you found so funny. 

“I’m sorry, that was just so corny.” Another giggle slips from you and the cool facade he had crumples, laughing along with you. 

“S’pretty bad, huh?’ He scrunches his nose and you think it might be the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. 

“Yeah it was bad, who told you that would work?” You take a sip of your martini and look at him from over the rim of your glass. 

Chuckling and shaking his head, Eddie rubs his forehead as if he’s stressed. Now he’s the one fumbling and nervous, you got him in the palm of your hand. 

“Goodness, it was going so well too.” You continue to tease, the playfulness dripping from your voice. Looking over at you Eddie can’t help but smile, those damn dimples back on display. 

“You’re trouble, sugar.” It’s said with the utmost confidence and it has you blushing.

“Oh you haven’t seen anything yet, babe.” It’s an invitation for him to find out and you hope he catches it. 

“How about I find out on Sunday over dinner and some drinks? What do you say?” Eddie leans into you when he says it, getting the closest he’s been to you, letting his husky voice fill your ears. 

Trying to hide the chill that runs up your back and the excitement that settles in your belly, you lean in just as close. “I’d say you have a date, pretty boy.” 

The two of you stay like that for a minute, smiling like giddy teens. Breaking away from the small moment, he pulls his phone out from his pocket, unlocking it and opening up the phone app to type in a new contact. 

Handing you the phone, his face seems boyish and giddy, you’re sure if he wasn’t sitting he’d be bouncing on the ball of his feet. Typing in your number, you shyly smile up at him handing back his phone. 

“I better hear from you Eddie Munson or finance bro won’t be the only one gettin’ his ass kicked.” Pointing a finger at him, you try your best to look as mean as possible but your plan quickly fails when you see his eyes shining at you. 

“Yes ma’am.” Throwing a wink at you, he reaches into his wallet and pulls a crisp hundred out and places it on the bar top. “I’ll be seein’ you soon, sugar.” Wrapping his fingers around yours, he places a kiss to the back of your hand. 

The feeling of his lips on your skin makes you ache for more, and the moment it’s gone you wish you can make him do it again. Pulling your lip in between your teeth, you look up at him like he’s hung the stars. 

The moment is cut short when the bartender asks Eddie if he wants change. Surprisingly he doesn’t look at the older man with anger for ruining it, instead he gives him a nice smile. 

“No Paul, the change is all yours. Also, this beautiful young lady’s drinks are on my tab.” Nodding his head, the bartender thanks Eddie for the generous tip. 

Pulling his attention back to you, he cuts you off before you can chastise him for paying. “Let me pay for the pretty girl who made my whole night, it’s the least I can do.” 

Rolling your eyes, you try hard to not let him see how flustered you are. When he bids you a goodnight, you can’t help but feel the ache of his absence. The whole time you’re in the Lyft home you think of him, staring out the window and replaying everything in your head. 

Once you get home, you sit in silence on the end of your bed, not worrying about the shower you need to take. You can’t believe the luck you had in meeting Eddie and a part of you wants to thank Luke for not showing up. 

The ding of your phone pulls you out of your thoughts, your heartbeat picking up when you read your screen. 

Maybe Eddie: Hey it’s Eddie, just wanted to make sure you got home safe. I wanted to ask if you could thank that loser for not showin up, he really did both of us a favor tonight. 

When you read it, you can’t help but giggle a little. Although corny and maybe a little dorky, Eddie had thought the same thing as you and for some reason it sent the butterflies in your tummy on a rampage. 

Maybe Eddie: You’re totally laughing at me right now, aren’t you?

Bursting into laughter, your tummy flips in excitement, imagining him blushing on the other side of the phone. Tapping away on your screen, you send him a reply. 

You: Oh you know it 😉

You: Thank you for making sure I got home by the way, I appreciate it. 

Eddie: I should’ve known. Glad you got home in one piece. 

Eddie: Night, sugar. See you Sunday 🖤

Fuck a text, you were going to send Luke a thank you card and maybe some chocolate.

I hope you guys liked this! I can't wait to continue this week with all of you! See you all tomorrow with the next fic :)

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[awriterinthenight]

"I'll be less reckless, I promise"-Anthony Lockwood

requested: almost-gabrielle

words: 1240

warnings: mentions of blood, torture, Lockwood being an idiot and super reckless, reader being mad at Lockwood, cute little fluff at the end, this is a bit shorter than usual I don't know why I guess it just turned out to be shorter

summary: When Lockwood's recklessness gets him in trouble you have to save him, then bring him home and patch him up from his injuries

Stupid stupid Lockwood.

He was always too reckless, which led to many issues that we always had to fix. But this was a new type of recklessness. We had been offered a job that seemed a bit odd, but we took it since we needed the business. Me and George had wanted to do more research since we weren't exactly sure what we would be walking into. But, Lockwood being his reckless yet genius self, he decided to go on the job even though me and George advised him to wait till we discovered more.

We were sifting through papers when something caught my eye. There seemed to be a slip up in one of the documents, which showed the building wasn't owned by an old man like originally thought, but rather an angry relic hunter who's name I recognized from a few stories among agents. This man was known for luring agents onto a job, then using them to get a source to sell, or to try and find one he was already looking for.

Immediately I ran out and grabbed my rapier and some flairs tucked into my jacket, as I made my way to where Lockwood was. Luckily the building wasn't too far away from where we were, so I made it there in record time.

I slowly crept my way into the building, sneaking in through a window and down to the main area. I saw signs of struggle leading to a room in a corner. Making my way over there I noticed a small bit of dried blood, making me nervous.

When I made it over there it wasn't so much a room, but more of an area closed off by tarps. I peeked through an exposed part, looking into the spot where I saw Lockwood tied up to a chair. The man was in front of a table, his back to me, as he seemed to be preparing something.

"Just tell me where it is, and I'll let you go," the man said maliciously.

Lockwood's head seemed to lull a bit to the side, "For the third time I don't know what you're talking about," he lied, his breath a bit shaky.

The man chuckled evilly, "Oh, you know what I'm talking about. The little bracelet who recovered a few days ago. I'd been scouting it out and had buyers lined up, but you had to come in and ruin everything, didn't you," he said through gritted teeth, "But, if you can remember, then maybe I'll just have to jog your memory a bit," he said, smirking as he turned around a knife now in his hand.

At this moment I froze scared at what was about to happen. I tried to think quickly which led to me pulling out a flare and lighting it quickly, then running in to throw it at the guy. I just barely missed, only scraping his ear, as I aimed for his head. Fortunately though it was just enough to startle him and make him drop the knife.

"Don't move," I commanded, pointing my rapier straight at him. He stayed there unmoving before unsettlingly smirking.

"Come here to save your boyfriend, what's a kid like you gonna do," he said, underestimating me. I looked around for a moment before seeing a bottle of rubbing alcohol. I grabbed it without a second thought and dumped it all over him, keeping my rapier pointed straight at him.

I pulled out my lighter, flicking it on, "Move, and I'll light you on fire," I threaten. His confident facade seems to fade, as I move to untie Lockwood. I successfully free him, and the moment I do, we run like a bat out of hell. I could hear the man's footsteps as he followed after us, but we were faster, and able to get out through a broken window before he caught up to us.

Once we were a safe distance away, I found a pay phone and called for a night cap, since we were too worn down to walk home. Lockwood was resting on a bench seeming to try and stay conscious.

"Alright, thanks," I said, hanging up the phone as our cab was on the way. I moved to stand in front of Lockwood, "How could you be so reckless. Me and George warned you something was off, and to not go, but you just had to prove us wrong, and go on the bloody job. You should be happy that you're lucky to be alive. If I wasn't there you would've-" I don't get to finish my lecture before he cuts me off.

"I know, I'm sorry love," he says, reaching out a hand and placing it on my waist, "I was reckless, and I should've listened to you, but can this please wait till we get home, please," he says, his head hung low.

I let out a sigh, "Alright, but once we get home you are in for the lecture of a lifetime," I tell him.

Lockwood smiles softly, "I'd expect nothing less," he says, his voice low and tired. We wait a few minutes as our cab arrives. The driver questions Lockwood's state, to which I just lie, saying how we got back from a particularly rough case. He buys the excuse luckily and our cab ride back home is silent.

When we get out I have to hold Lockwood up as we enter the house. I put away my rapier and kick off my boots, as Lockwood does the same, but leaning against the front door. I help him up the stairs and to our room, where the moment we sit down on the bed he collapses into my arms. I hold him tight, placing a small kiss on his forehead.

"What's wrong?" I ask, even though I know that's a dumb question.

He lets out a shaky breath, "Everything. I messed up, and I didn't listen to you. I'm sorry. And everything hurts and my head is pounding," he admits.

I sigh, running my hand through his hair, "Wait here, I'll be right back," I whisper to him softly. I go to the bathroom where I grab the first aid kit and some pain meds. I return and start to patch up his wounds.

He settles me between his legs, his hands holding onto the back of my legs. I disinfect the cuts on his face, trying to soothe him every time he tries to hide a small whimper from the pain. Eventually I finish disinfecting and I bandage him up, running my hands delicately across his face, as he relaxes to my touch. I give him the pain meds which he takes gladly.

We both get ready for bed as he asks, "Aren't you going to lecture me like you said you would?" while getting comfortable in our bed.

I sigh, running my hands through his hair, "No, you're in enough pain. I'm sorry for yelling at you," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

"It's okay, you shouldn't be apologizing. I'll be less reckless from now on," he says, leaning over to place a kiss on my forehead, "I promise."

I lay my head on his chest, as his arms move to wrap around my waist. We stay like that till we fall asleep. Pleased to be in each other's company knowing that we're both safe in each other's arms.

[mochinomnoms]

This is a very specific thing I said to my friends so if they follow your blog then they would know who I am but the whole thing of buy one get two free deal came from something that is common in my country where in local bazaars they sell these showering kits that came with shampoo, conditioner and a bottle of liquid soap my mind clearly infected with twst could only think about the octotrio being one of these packages Azul is the soap, and the twins are the shampoo and conditioner and the three of the products are wrapped with tape so you are forced to get the three which is oddly cute to me but onto the main thing!

Came up with another octotrio polycule idea since yuu represents a shrimp in Floyd's weird lenses of seeing the world sometimes if done intentionally or not you tend to clean up the twins or patch them up even fixing up their (poorly put on) uniform Jade got dirt in his face when he was in a mountain trip? Come here you careless eel and wipe out the dirt then you can talk about your new findings BUT WASH YOUR HANDS FIRST

Floyd decided to do parkour or maybe he just dumped a whole smoothie on himself because he was hot and used the drink to cool off and there you go, disinfect the wounds or scratches and putting silly cute band-aids (one time he got mad that his favorite design was out and you placed a mushroom design band aid since he still needed one, remind yourself to go stack up with the band-aids before Jade goes and sniffles about his dear brother using his favorite band-aids)

I am thinking that since the twins are a bit much more affectionate or aren't as busy as Azul is, you are doing one of your "Nurse/cleaner shirmp" (Floyd gave them the name) on one of the tweels and you guys were in Azul's office so he sighs trying to get attention he wishes that he also got his own nurse/cleaner shirmp affections if he doesn't say it out loud he can and will break his pen/ink flask and oh no! His gloves are completely ruined!! Clearly coaxing you into helping him with the mess or when he does voice his wishes about it when you two/three are present the tweels are quick to tease him about it "I thought that octopuses didn't go to cleaner shrimp stations?" or "Would you be able to provide protection in exchange? I thought that octopuses weren't predators" Okay that was rude, it is on. Of course that he can protect the shrimpy and if octopuses didn't go to cleaner shirmp stations then he would change that! Overall silliness and sweetness (They are having a discussion about planning to surprise you with a visit to the coral sea and going to visit their parents!!) they might turn almost anything into a friendly/loving competition and you are trapped in them but they are still so sweet and caring for you and each other 10/10 definitely a unique dynamic but awesome either way

(the same anon forcing their brain to fabricate more octotrio polycule ideas)

I think Floyd takes the most delight in seeing you care for them like an actual shrimp. He thinks it's endearing and will definitely make efforts to get dirty or mildly hurt so that you'll attend to him.

The other two have their own nicknames for you: Jade calls you and Azul My Pearl/Darling while Azul calls you Angelfish and the twins Dear(s).

It's Azul's way of showing affection, as he is quite reserved with his affections, at least until you're all in private. He does envy the liberal affections that the twins have with you, Floyd in particular doesn't care much about what others think, and Jade generally is more reserved than his brother, but will still give you chaste kisses when saying hello/goodbye. Azul, at most, will hold hands and maybe tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ears, something he often does during quiet moments.

It may be silly, but he gets a little jealous at seeing y'all share PDA when he's still getting used to the new dynamic. So he's coaxing you to come help him clean up! Look at his hands, they're absolutely stained with ink! Won't you please help him clean up Angelfish? 🥺

It backfires as the twins also take the opportunity to “care” for Azul. Instead of letting you fuss over him quickly, they decide that this is a sign that he's much too tired to continue working, look at the mess he made! It's time to close his office early and cuddle pile in his bedroom!! Jade's making the extra effort to run a bath in the absurdly large tub in Azul's private bathroom, while Floyd is running around collecting pillows and blankets to make a nest/fort. You do your do diligence and help Jade tend to him, causing him to get more and more flustered.

The night ends with the twins teasing the silly little octopus for wanting some tending from the shrimp. They're complaining that he never asks for affection like that from them!!! Eels can be gentle too, we promise Azul~

[mt-oe]

𝙎𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝘼𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙈𝙚—ex bandmate mizu

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Hey dears!

Back with one of my favorite tropes! I high key feel bad for being away for so long and for being too shy to actually interact with anyone so I'll try to make up for it as much as I can.

Will you be the bad guy in this one? Not sure, that's for you to decide. I hope all of you will enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it <3

Hope you enjoy! Mwa mwa ;*

warning/s: not proofread, angst, cursing, violence (mdni!), toxic, she/her for mizu, implied afab reader

note: I tried fixing some parts because I wrote this while I was drunk and I realized that some parts sucked. I'm sorry, dears!

The sound of cars whizzing past, horns beeping, and the endless conversations of people chatting on the street filled the night. The wind blew harshly, the cold biting at your flushed cheeks. Stars glimmering as bright as your narrowed eyes as you ran, footsteps heavy on the concrete.

Bright lights lit up the city, commercials everywhere of something stupid. Probably the next new hyped up skincare product that was overpriced and didn't work or the next new corny romance film they're trying to sell out. Celebrities' faces plastered on every building, some pretty, some borderline lewd, some dramatic.

God, you hated these fucking displays, always so obnoxious and overly marketed...

Especially her fucking face.

Mizu's stupid fucking face plastered all around the buildings, informing you of her concert in your home city as a way of ending her first oh-so-grand world tour. The new hit guitarist made by Abijah Fowler, the manager of the biggest fucking band in the world. A legend. Anyone he handled turns into a star by the first debut.

Oh, fuck you.

These displays were truly obnoxious, even more so with her stupid fucking face, her stupid hands holding her same old guitar, and her gorgeously blue eyes on display for every passerby to see. For you to see every time you went to work, went to get the groceries, went to...whatever.

Blue eyes reminding you of the times when you were her manager. Of when both of you were young and stupid, when playing in a band was just something you did to unwind and have something to do aside from rot. Reminding you of your promise to make her a star, that talent recognizes talent.

And indeed, she was talent.

She was the greatest fucking talent the world ever saw. Her hands played the guitar as if it was natural to her. As if whatever deity that created her wanted mankind to know what music actually sounded like. Like her hands were made for this. Like she was made for this.

Every time she went on stage, countless would scream for her, cheer for her, throw what ever expensive lingerie they had for her. It took months, maybe even a year, to be able to schedule an interview with her. Her fans would sell their soul for a chance to breathe the same air as her, yet alone be in the same room with her.

Which ever city she went, concert or no concert, paparazzi was waiting for her. Each stage she rocked, she made the floors shake with how hyped her audience got. Everyone who attended had post-concert syndrome. They were star struck. She exuded confidence. She was an icon. Not even the lead singer but she was the front man.

An eye catcher.

Talent personified.

A star.

Your fucking star.

And you hated this bitch with every fiber of your body, with every cell that passed and will pass through your veins, with every nerve, with everything you had. You made her a star, gave her to the best fucking manager known to man. For fuck's sake she even finished a world tour. And this is how she repays you?

Your hands pushed the crowds of people away, legs burning as you tried to run into the backstage. The sounds of people yelling at you, glaring at your figure as you cut through lines echoing across the waiting area.

Was this illegal? Probably.

Who cares?

You were getting this bitch even if you had to be dragged out by every armed force known to man.

Just as you were about to reach the doors, security immediately held you back. Bodyguards grabbing you as you thrashed around, trying to kick them off while pulling your arms away from them. "Let me go! Let me fucking see this bitch!" you screamed at them, nails digging into their skin as they held you back.

"Mizu you fucking bitch! I know you're there! Explain yourself!" you yelled, hissing in pain as security tried to drag you out, yelling at you to leave. Your hair out of the bun you put it in, seams at the corners of your shirt ripping slightly, legs scratched. Their hands leaving red marks on your skin, and yet you continued to try and fight them off, yelling obscenities as they held you down. "Fuck! Get off of me! You motherfucker! You ungrateful bitch!"

With a twist of your arm and an unexpected bite at their hands, you finally broke free from their grasps, only to be tackled to the ground as soon as you tried to sprint towards the door. The impact of your head on the ground making you extremely light-headed. Your vision growing blurry as the warm red liquid started dripping from your nose onto the concrete. You could feel them lifting your body; but just as you were about to drag your body out, you heard a voice. The same fucking voice you were searching for.

"Unhand her. Don't worry she's with me."

Upon her words, the guards looked at each other and security hesitantly let go of you, going back to their stations. With a groan, you sat up straight, blowing the blood out of your nostril before wiping the leftover crimson with the back of your hand as she approached you with an unreadable expression.

Just as you looked up, your breath got caught in your throat as your eyes met. Blue orbs meeting with yours. Those gorgeous blue eyes. Drowning you.

Slowly, you stood up, trying your best to balance yourself. Her eyebrows knitting at how beaten up you looked. But just as she was about to open her mouth...

SLAP

...her cheek was met with a harsh stinging pain, knocking her back slightly. Her chest rose up and down as she panted, trying to register what had just happened, hand slowly clutching her cheek.

Sharp blue eyes glared at you as soon as she composed herself. She watched as you shook the pain from your hand, glaring at her with such loathing. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?" she growled, grabbing you by the collar.

I asked you a question, I wanna know why Why'd you have to make a record 'bout me?

"What the fuck am I doing? What the fuck do you think you're doing?" you yelled at her, eyes narrowing further as you continued to glare at her, no longer caring if her hold on your collar was choking you. "Answer me, Mizu. Why'd you have to make a fucking song about me, you stupid jackass?"

Her eyes scanned your face, looking over every detail as her grip on your collar tightened. Even with a scratched up face and a bloody nose, you were still so beautiful to her. The most beautiful woman she has ever met.

"That's what you're here for? Hah..fuck...I'm with my own band. Stay out of my business," she said in low voice, pulling you closer, jaw clenching as if holding back some sort of unexplainable anger towards you as well. An exasperated yet angered expression washed over your face at her words.

"Stay out of your business?" you repeated before letting out an angry sarcastic laugh. "How can I when you fucking used my picture? Our picture? On a fucking diss album, for fuck's sake! Are you stupid?!" you yelled, hand gripping her hand around your collar tightly until your knuckles turned white, until your nails were digging into her skin.

That's right.

A whole fucking record about you. A whole motherfucking album dedicated to you. This is how this jackass repays you.

The track list started with innocent cute little love songs about how much she admired you, how much she fucking tried for you, how she constantly played her heart out just for you to realize how in love she was with you.

Then, it went on to heavier songs, talking about how you sold her. How you were a fucking traitor who threw her into the pit, making her feel as if you would be there for her no matter where the band's musical journey took off to only to leave her.

And you wouldn't have minded if it was just some kind of corny ass typical romance album with cheesy lyrics a little angst. Every band had that at some point. Maybe it wasn't even dedicated for you. You hoped it wasn't dedicated to you. However, the moment you saw the album cover, you could physically feel the color draining out of your face.

But it's alright 'Cause it was all in my mind To begin with (And you don't know why)

It was a picture of you and Mizu in the old studio. Your body turned to the side as you wrote something on your clipboard. Mizu was at the background tuning her guitar. Of course they had the decency to blur out your face, but you knew.

You fucking knew.

God, you loved this picture so much.

"Mizu...do you think we should add crushcrushcrush to our song list for the next gig," you asked, eyes trained on your clipboard. Your eyebrows furrowed in thought. Damn, this client was stingy. Only 3 songs? How were you going to fit a whole ass gig into three songs?

She looked up from her guitar before her eyes glanced at Akemi who was just beside you, giggling as she looked at her digital camera then back at her with a sly smile, showing the camera to her mischievously. Mizu immediately turned around in fear of her face being captured in the photo, fiddling with her guitar while she thought of an answer. "...Well if you want a Paramore song, I think Ignorance would be better," she said quietly but loud enough for you to hear.

"Although...I still think One Weak is better. Make Taigen sing or something," she suggested, plucking the strings of her guitar as she tuned it. A small 'I second that' could be heard from Akemi as she pointed the camera towards you. Your eyes widened in delight at the suggestion, immediately writing it down on your clipboard. "That's not a bad idea! Not bad at a—"

You were cut off by the loud click sound of a camera, followed by the bright lights of the camera flash. "Oops.." Akemi mumbled sheepishly as she watched you rub your eyes. Just as she was going to hide the camera in her bag, you waved your hand around before gesturing her to give it to you.

Mizu couldn't help but be curious, setting her guitar down to take a peek. "Woah..." you mumbled, grinning at the picture.

It was perfect.

The slight tint from how old the camera was gave it a vintage look. The way your skirt rode up slightly from how you crossed your legs gave it a slightly lewd feel. And along with your combat boots? It definitely had that edge. Y'know? Like that little irresistible charm that made you stare at album covers like Around the Fur.

Mhmm.. don't even deny it. We've all stared at that album cover before.

Even the way Mizu was standing at the background looked so badass. Her back turned from the camera, so sturdy and strong. She definitely had that natural mysterious vibe that drew everyone in.

Everything about this picture...made your heart race.

"Looks like an album cover," Mizu commented, sitting down next to you. A small blush appearing on her cheeks as her eyes traced your legs. The three of you nodded in agreement, each with your own smiles. "Hmm.. maybe if we make it big somehow. We could use this," Akemi suggested.

You nodded, smiling at the photo fondly. "Yeah, let's make it big together," you mumbled, eyes still staring at the picture. God, you loved this picture so much.

God, you hated this picture so much.

Keep the chaos 'cause you don't know why

"Oh don't be such a fucking narcissist. Just because we used a picture you loved so damn much, doesn't mean its for you," she growled, hairs on the back of her neck standing up from anger.

Slowly, her hands gripped your collar tighter, ignoring the pain your nails were inflicting on her, shoving you until your back collided with the cool metal of the trailer. Your body trapped between the vehicle and her body. The tension was so thick it was suffocating you.

You could feel the air being squeezed out from your throat as you continued to glare at her, not letting this go. "Then tell me, Mizu." A small cough escaping your throat as your breathing turned into wheezing. "Who...who is this stupid fucking album for?"

Her eyes narrowed at your question, continuing to stare at you intensely but gave no answer. Although the slight tremble and weakening of her grip told you that you definitely struck a nerve. The silence was unnerving and even with the lack of oxygen, it was pissing you off.

"Answer me, you bitch!" With the remaining energy you had, you lifted your leg before stomping it towards her, digging your foot onto her stomach.

Immediately, her hands let go of your collar as she reeled back, coughing and wheezing. Your hands rubbed at the area where the friction from your collar burned your skin, trying to soothe it as you tried your best to regain your breath.

It was a good try, but Mizu was strong. So strong and well-built. The body that used to keep you close, holding the umbrella for you, trying to hide the shiver in the cold so she could lend you her jacket, was now pinning you to the ground. Knees weighing down on your hands and her weight pushed on to you. You loved her. You hated her. You love her so much.

I heard your song but I wasn't impressed So, you got your feels hurt and now you're feeling depressed Just because we had sex and it didn't last? Now you want revenge, you wanna put me on blast?

"Give me one good reason to not kill you right now," she said in a low voice. Her long, rough, slender fingers wrapping around your neck, squeezing it lightly. You could feel the hesitance in her hold, the slight tremble of her hands and the almost invisible quivering of her lips, contrasting the harshness of her expression.

"You're such a fucking bitch," you coughed out, eyes narrowing as you tried to lift her weight off your body. "Tell me who that motherfucking album is for! Spit it the fuck out!"

Eyes narrowed further as she gritted her teeth, jaw clenching. Her hands squeezing against your throat further, other hand balling into a fist as she lifted it out. Anger emanated from her gaze, burning deeply as she looked at you. If eyes were the windows to the soul, then her soul must be either dead or burning with rage more than ever. And yours? Yours filled with a type of hatred that seemed to deep to be quenched.

No, don't look at her like that.

Fists raised and clenched tightly, mind violent and filled with rage. And yet, she could see no fear in you. Even with the threat of pain, you looked at her with no fear, as if you thought she could never hurt you. Even with the threat of pain, you felt no fear, as if you knew she could never hurt you. Mizu could never do that to you.

So please, don't look at her like that

Her breathing became heavier as she continued to glare at you, fist shaking until eventually letting go. She let out an exhale, eyes glossing over ever-so-slightly. 'What the hell am I doing?', she thought, throat tightening as a lump formed, making it hard for her to breathe. Your form under her, too beautiful, too lovely.

She couldn't do it. Not to you.

Slowly, she got off of your body, sitting on the spot next to you as the two of you looked up at the sky, except her eyes were on your figure. You took a deep breath before eventually looking at her, admiring her features. "You changed so much.." you mumbled, glare softening but still there. "Tell me. That album...was for me, wasn't it?"

A sigh escaped her lips before she gave a slow, hesitant nod. "Why?" you asked, sitting up slowly.

"Why'd you have to.."

"Because you're a fucking liar."

Your eyes widened before narrowing into the harsh glare it was before. "Liar? How am I a liar?" you almost yelled, voice a bit raspy.

Her eyes glared back at you, nails digging into her own skin of her palms. "You fucking sold my contract. To Fowler of all people!" she exclaimed. "Have you ever considered how I felt? Did you even think of me?"

"Of course I thought of you! If I didn't hand over your contract to Fowler, you wouldn't be where you fucking are!" you yelled back, turning to face her. "Look at you now! The biggest and fastest rising star! People are praising you like you're some sort of modern Kurt Cobain, Mizu! Can't you be fucking grateful?!"

Grateful?

Don't make me laugh

She stood up and grabbed you by the shoulders before pulling you up harshly, your sides almost colliding with the trailer yet again. Rage enveloping her being, radiating from her as she approached you, fingers digging into your shoulders. "You didn't think about me! Fuck, you didn't think about any of us at all!"

"How about Ringo? Taigen? Akemi? Where the fuck are they now after you disbanded us, left us all rotting, for Abijah's stupid fuckin' agenda?!" she almost croaked out, face getting closer to yours. Her jaw clenching as her hands trembled in both anger and the desire to be soft with you.

You couldn't believe what she was saying right now. You didn't even think of her? How could she say that after you gave her to the best, to make her dreams come true? Harshly, you pushed her off of you. Now it was your turn to grab her by the collar, pulling her to your height. "Abijah's 'stupid fucking agenda' is what got you where you are, Mizu,'' you growled. "Talent recognizes talent and Abijah is the most talented manager in the industry and he wanted you. The kingmaker wanted you."

A strange sense of disappointment towards you swirled into her eyes. It was stupid of her to think that if she met you again, things would go back to the way they were. An unexplainable retching in her gut welling up as she listened to you speak. Was this it? Was this why you sold her fucking contract?

"You wanted to be a star, he made you a star. I made you a—"

"I never fucking wanted to be a star!" she yelled, glare hardening. Confusion painted over your face, making the anger in your eyes falter. Her disappointment and dismay in full view as opposed to the anger she held earlier. "I don't understand, Mizu. Isn't this why you joined—"

"I fucking joined your stupid band to be with you, dumbass," she sighed, pulling your hands off of her collar. "It was never about making it big. I just...wanted to play and be with you."

Her hands held yours softly as she looked away. "You told me we'd stay together as a band. That we'd be together no matter if we made it big or not." The grip she had on your hands trembling slightly as it tightened. She took a deep breath to calm herself down before looking at you straight in the eyes. "But you're a fucking liar, aren't you?"

For the first time since you've heard of Mizu's concert in your home city, you were speechless. Thoughts empty as you tried to process her words. Hatred quelled deep in your heart. "Mizu.. I really don't understand," you replied, hands desperately trying to hold hers as she tried to pull away.

She looked down at you with a sigh. The heavy feeling weighing down both your chests. With one look at your eyes, she knew this was too difficult for both of you. And maybe, this was just how the world worked.

She loved you. She loves you. But she can't help but hate you too.

"Go. Get the fuck out of here," she said coldly, turning to head back, making you even more confused and even a bit more pissed off. An unexplainable anger gnawing at her insides, making her throat tighten. "I don't want to see you ever again."

Her feet made its way towards the backstage. Ringing echoing in her ears as you plead her to come back, to explain, to talk to you. She heard nothing because she knew nothing would get her feelings into your dense little brain. This was pointless.

Before opening the door to head into the backstage, she took one last look at you. Her eyes tracing your figure, admiring your features that she had grown to love so much. Even with your bruises, anger, and hatred, you really were the most beautiful woman she has ever seen.

Just as she was about to turn away, your hands traveled to the hem of your skirt, pulling it up to your waist, sticking your tongue out as if to mock her cowardice. A blush appeared on her cheeks as she caught a glimpse of your underwear.

'It's pink', she thought with a groan, glaring at you before storming inside and slamming the door behind her. Once she was inside, she hid her face behind her hands, breathing heavily. How fucked up did you have to be to tug at her heart at a time like this?

She really did hate you. You really did hate her.

The feeling was mutual.

[jacksprostate]

The truth is, after blowing my brains out and going to Heaven, the CIA used me to jumpstart the domestic anti-terrorism program and turn the country into an authoritarian petrostate. And as the little posterchild of their loving touch, Congress let me loose five years later, wobbling and feeble and a testament to their reformative powers. They're going worldwide now. Fixing and freedom for all.

Here, even the antichrist can be redeemed. Recycled.

I'm a dishwasher now. Everything I've aspired to be. There's an industrial sterilization between me and the public. When I get home, I'm pruned out like a geriatric population bomb.

After everything, I'm not left alone. I've got guys showing me tattoos on their hands of my lips. I've got invites to every fight club ever. I've got all these garish things. Selling out has a new explosive flavor these days.

My face was kept redacted, but not my birthmark. Men with red sharpies try to pick up girls with their own manufactured faux cancer. It's amazing, how deep this goes. They're coming up with names for me. I've had strangers tell me they've come up with something better.

Jack, like the ripper. It's in this season. I'm fashionable. Try Sebastian. It's biblical.

The many new Tyler Durdens, they've got it all. The fashion, the funding, the government approved fatalities. Terror cells born and bred to die.

It's amazing, what you think you're getting away with when you've not realized you have full cabinet support.

Reporters love me, too. They track me down. They want to make the next counter culture. Homemade soap is all the rage. The silhouette of Tyler at the murder mystery is a best selling shirt.

They're making a movie, and Brad Pitt is going to be Tyler. Attractive, dead, charismatic, useless. Hypocritical.

I was Tyler's prophet, and no one is listening. No one actually wants to know.

The most marketable aspect of my life, I've found, is my apathy and failure. It's all hopeless. We're all shit. We're all the crap and trash of the world.

I say no, you don't get it, and no one listens.

The reason I know I'm still useful, is I haven't shot myself in the head twice yet. Actually, that's the one thing they probably hope I don't try to do. Everything I say, it all helps.

Radicalizing, fragmenting, commercializing.

They're all fighting over me like wolves. I'm a t-bone steak raw and juiced with the full might of the american pharmaceutical industry. Ripe like a fig. Rotting inside.

It's a custody battle.

All my franchises have undergone imminent domain. The rare times I'm let out of the kitchen, I see children in purposefully weathered red jackets and makeup bruises. They love me. They understand me. They know me. They would hate me.

I might be the only man in America who can't buy a gun. Can't buy anything that'd let me off myself. The whole line has been told to watch me and make sure I can't use one of those soap-hidden knives to give myself a roman bath.

I've got those lipstick red Seconals. They're used to kill people. Maybe one day, that will be my exit, and everything I longed for will finally be allowed to kill me the way God intended.

Eventually, this cash cow will grow old and I will get to die, fenced in on all sides.

[gaspshichat]

pearl quotes !!

i write down a lot of pearl quotes and sometimes share them in her discord server. i've decided to put every single one i've gathered into one tumblr post. i will reblog the most recent addition every saturday with any new quotes that i have acquired. you can also send me quotes in my ask box or my dms on twitter [username is gaspshichat, like usual]. no guarantees that they'll be added though!

a lot of these quotes are sus and very out of context. that is part of the point! if pearl wants me to delete this, i absolutely will

[before it gets asked, karn is her bestie boyfriend]

~|•🌙•|~

pearl: before we do that let me restock my balls

~

pearl: ooh there's things happening on the ser- A BEACON ????

~

pearl: don't thank me because i didn't approve of it

~

pearl: i hope you guys understood what i said because i didn't

~

pearl: "you killed a frog?" yup! it was for science......let it be known that is a terrible excuse in real life

~

pearl: "do you take iron tablets?" i have them!

~

pearl to keralis: well you're a letdown but i don't talk about that

~

pearl: fix ai, make them breedable

~

pearl: i got the double p! please don't acronym that

~

pearl: "do you use slabs in terraforming?" *zooms in on a slab she used for terraforming* no

~

pearl: "don't sell yourself short" it's okay i'm tall

~

pearl: they don't bite! much..

~

pearl: doc owes me child support!

*long, stunned silence*

cleo: ....okay….

~

cleo: so keralis did the kidnapping, and you did kidnapping by proxy

pearl: ...no

~

pearl: it was a heart of mutton. it was creepy

cleo: it was a meat heart :D

~

cleo: i want to mail horrible things, like animals, to iskall

pearl: oh! that's horrid

~

pearl: "you charge your other mats rent?" yes

~

pearl: i don't know if this is lag or if my balls are just popping in really slowly

~

pearl: these balls ain't going away

~

pearl: let me move my balls aside for you

~

pearl: hello ♪

karn: is it me you're looking for ♪

pearl: no ♪

karn: oh :(

~

pearl: i don't need a big, strong man to kill me

~

pearl: turn down the thing you need to turn down...you know what it is

~

karn: i fractured the world from what i can tell

pearl: ..bruh

~

pearl: what does the button do?

karn: THE BUTTON SHUTS THE DOORS ON US AND SPAWNS A BUNCH OF MOBS

pearl: i pushed the button hehe

~

pearl: cleo made the child

false: ...the child?

pearl: yeah :D it's a bebe

~

pearl: "why are there beach umbrellas at the post office?" *long pause* maybe it's because of all the water?

~

pearl: you caught me mid construction

gem: i know >:3

~

pearl: he's letting his babies loose

~

gem: look at you up there. you're adorable *punches her*

pearl: aH-

~

pearl: i am greatly navigationally challenged right now

~

pearl: i got too comfortable with hermitcraft actually working

~

pearl: ah! moist!

~

pearl: anyway that's completely distracted me away from my really passionate rockies

~

pearl: we have pickles to do !!

~

karn: let's not sit on the balls

pearl: 🤨

karn: *holds up cat toys*

pearl: oh- *starts laughing and hides her very red face*

~

pearl: just shove it in

~

pearl: how do you know what brimstone tastes like

karn: i've lived quite the life

~

pearl: give it a suck

~

pearl: our feet are not equal

karn: why are you bringing our feet into this ??

~

pearl: i could give you the australian bestie word-

karn, oblivious: alright

pearl: -but it's not pg

karn, realizing: ahhh

~

karn: it's a mental thing, you see

pearl: oh

karn: yes, i'm mentally stuck here

pearl: i see

karn: yes, i'm in a position where i don't want to leave-

pearl: that's very intense for a friend

~

karn: it's just as sweet as you

pearl: don't butter me up

karn: too late!

~

pearl: i'm flee with extra flee

~

karn: you okay, my dear?

pearl: *sobbing*

~

pearl: did you pee in the ocean?

karn, instantly: yes

~

pearl: stop wasting your bullets!

karn: sorry ☹️

~

pearl: did you think his ass was his face ????

~

pearl: in what realm is a butthole a face ????

karn: *trying to explain*

pearl: babe :I

~

pearl: take that you stupid ass robot

~

karn: on the count of three. one-

pearl: *starts blasting*

~

pearl: stupid ass spider

~

pearl: a butt is clearly defined by two cheeks, a hole, and a tail!

~

pearl: [karn] is very special. in multiple ways

[avastrasposts]

Big Sky Country - ch. 6

Chapter 6 is here and since we left Frankie on his way back to the ranch in Montana, and Aisling still in New York, how are they going to work this out after the way they left it?

Summery: Cowboy Frankie returns to New York to work things out with his 'maybe girlfriend' Eva. But he also makes a connection with another woman, who makes this lost cowboy feel welcome in her Brooklyn bar.

Series Master List

Warnings for the whole series can be found here

“You’re the only one who makes my mind as quiet as the prairie.” 

His parting words remained with her but Aisling didn’t expect Frankie to bury himself so deep in her head. Heartbreaks, guys ghosting her, cheating on her, it had all happened before, apparently she had a knack for picking the losers. But it never took her long to get over them, a week or two of being a bit down, nothing a night out with friends couldn’t fix. 

With Frankie, it had been twelve fucking weeks. Three months of her mind drifting to him whenever there was a slow moment at work, getting annoyed when someone sat in ‘his’ spot at the bar, dreaming about him almost every night. 

Jenny noticed and tried pulling her out of it, taking her to their favorite BBQ place, sitting at long trestle tables, laughing at the ridiculous mason jars the drinks were served in. But then Jenny left for the rest room, and Aisling’s eyes drifted to the Texas flag hanging on the wall and then he was back in her head. 

“You could just call him, you know,” Jenny said, sitting down opposite Aisling and handing over another mason jar of lemonade spiked with bourbon, seeing where her friend’s mind was at. 

“Why would I do that? To get fresh material for the delusion living in my head?” Aisling snorted, shaking her head. 

“To get him out of your system, ask him to come back here, or better yet, go see him. You’ve never been out of the city. Go see Montana.” 

“Jenny, now you’re being the delusional one, how would seeing him again get him out of my system?” 

“I just think, the way you talk about him-” 

“I don’t talk about him,” Aisling interrupted, almost slamming her drink down on the table at the very notion. 

“I hate to break it to you, Ash, but you talk about him almost every day,” Jenny raised her eyebrows, daring Aisling to challenge her. “Only last night at the bar, you said Frankie would like that new beer we’re stocking.” 

“That was just an observation, I wasn’t talking about him.” 

“And when we had lunch on Thursday you told me the story about how he delivered a foal all by himself.” 

“There was a nature documentary about wild horses on the tv!” Aisling protested, “It was an interesting story!”

“You’d already told me that story twice,” Jenny said, “And I’ve known you for over twenty years, never, ever, have you talked about horses. I don’t think you’ve ever even been near a horse.” 

“I have,” Aisling objected, “Remember when Jules worked selling tickets for the horse carriages by Central Park? We used to hang out there and bug her the whole summer.” 

“Doesn’t count. And the point stands; you talk about him almost every day, he’s clearly still on your mind and you need to get him out of your system. Or move to Montana. Whichever one seems easiest to you.” 

“Maybe she just needs to get laid? I volunteer.” 

The voice of a man a few years younger came into the conversation as he sat down next to Jenny, grinning at Aisling. 

“Fuck off, Pete,” Aisling snapped, rolling her eyes at the blonde man. 

“Shut up,” Jenny said at the same time, digging her elbow into Pete’s ribs, making him wince, “This is serious, Aisling is going to be pining over this cowboy for the rest of her life if we can’t figure out how she’ll get over him.” 

“I’m not moving to Montana, and I can’t call him, I don’t have his number,” Aisling said and downed the last of her drink, scowling at Pete’s unwelcome addition to the table. 

“You can actually call him,” Jenny replied, fishing a folded piece of paper from her tote bag. “I got it from the trash after you threw it away. Just in case, you know.” 

She smoothed out the paper and pushed it over the table to Aisling, who looked down at it without touching. There, on the wrinkled page from the bar’s notepad, in Frankie’s neat handwriting, his name and number, Francisco Morales. 

Seeing his name, in his writing, suddenly made her throat close up and she blinked a few times. 

“Just call him,” Pete said, “I don’t really want to have sex with you, so calling him is clearly the only option.” 

Aisling rolled her eyes at Jenny who swatted his arm. 

“Fuck off, Pete.” 

Aisling looked down at the paper again and pushed herself to her feet. 

“I’m over him. And I’m not moving to Montana. I’ll just hang out with Ben and Jerry until this blows over, as usual.” 

Jenny sighed, took the paper and folded it up again, leaned over the table and stuffed it into the pocket of Aisling’s jacket. 

“Just in case, if there’s an emergency and you need someone to deliver a foal or something,” she said, giving Aisling another look that meant ‘Don’t you fucking dare throw that piece of paper away’. 

“Fine, whatever, see you tomorrow,” Aisling replied, giving them both a wave as she left the restaurant. 

The piece of paper burnt a hole in her pocket on the way home and she tucked it out of sight between the pages of a book as soon as she could.

Out of sight, out of mind

When the bus dumped him outside the gas station on the outskirts of Big Sky, Frankie drew a deep breath of relief. He never thought he’d feel so light just seeing the prairie in front of him as the bus pulled away. He stood several minutes just staring at the rolling plain and the sky above until the honk of a horn behind him pulled him out of his reverie. 

Herb waved at him from his truck, right on time as usual and Frankie hoisted his bag up on his shoulder and crossed the road. 

“Hey, man, admiring the view?” 

The older man greeted him with a grin as Frankie slid into the passenger side of the truck. 

“Hey, Herb, yeah, good to be back,” he replied, sinking back in the seat and rubbing a hand over his face, “Long fucking journey.”

“How was New York? You were gone a while, wasn’t sure you’d come back.” 

Herb knew most of his history with Eva, Frankie had told him things were over between them when he got back from New York last time. And he was smart enough to guess that Frankie’s sudden departure five weeks earlier had something to do with her too, even though Frankie hadn’t told him exactly why he was leaving. Frankie usually made a point of being as truthful as possible with Herb, but when Eva called, he’d chickened out

Now Frankie sighed as Herb put the truck in drive and pulled out from the gas station. 

“Yeah, I wasn’t sure either,” Frankie replied, “Eva called to tell me she was pregnant, that’s why I Ieft.” 

“Pregnant?” Frankie could see Herb’s eyebrows rise from the corner of his eye, “How did you feel about that?” 

Typical Herb question, always asking how it made him feel. Frankie almost chuckled at the older man but it just came out as a strangled snort and he rubbed a hand over his face again. 

“Scared, hopeful, nervous, petrified,” he shook his head, “fucking terrified. But it’s over, she had an abortion, I’m not gonna be a dad.” 

“That why you came back?” 

“It’s a long story, and it might need a beer or two for the details,” Frankie replied, “but yeah, things got messy, she had the abortion without telling me about it, I got involved with another woman, she found out I had a girlfriend, Eva found out I’d cheated, I stayed to make things right again, but in the end, it wasn’t going to work.” 

Frankie leaned his head against the back of the seat and closed his eyes briefly as Herb turned down the smaller road that led back to the ranch.

“That’s a lot for just five weeks, but tell me about it when you’re ready, Frank,” Herb said, glancing over at the furrow between Frankie’s eyes. 

“I don’t think there’s more to tell,” Frankie shrugged, “New York kicked my ass, and I’m more sure than ever that I can’t live in a big city.” 

“Any regrets?” Herb asked and Frankie knew what he meant, Herb was asking if he’d used any drugs while he was there.

Frankie shook his head, “No, not in that way, I was tempted but I stayed away from it, I know it would only make things worse.” 

“Not in that way?” Herb looked over at Frankie again, “What do you regret?” 

Frankie looked out through the passenger side window and sighed, the memory of Aisling filling his mind. She hadn’t been far from his thoughts much in the past two days, constantly at the forefront of his mind as he debated his decision while stuck on the endless bus ride. 

“That I fucked up, hurt someone else again,” he said, “I should’ve walked away but the need to make myself feel good first…I couldn’t resist.” 

“The other woman?” Herb asked and Frankie nodded, guilt creeping into his chest. 

“She’s…she’s great, fucking amazing…” Frankie shook his head, self-deprecation creeping into his voice, “she works in a bar, I ended up there on my first day back, and she just…fuck…It felt like she saw me but it sounds so pathetic when I say it.” 

“But that’s what it felt like?” Herb recognised the turbulent emotions on the face of the younger man, “like she saw you, and not just some stranger in a bar?” 

“Yeah, like she saw something else than everyone else sees, not the addict or the ex-soldier with a bunch of issues, or the miserable fuck who has to live away from everything to keep his shit together.” 

“Take a step back, Frankie,” Herb said, putting his hand on Frankie’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze to pull him out of the spiral, “Those things are not you, they don’t define you. They are issues you need to deal with, but they are not who you are.”  

Frankie nodded, taking a deep breath, “She made me feel like that, like that stuff doesn��t define me. She didn’t know about it all, I didn’t tell her, but…I don’t know…” Frankie trailed off, trying to figure out how to put into words how someone who didn’t know him, could make his head so peaceful. “She just…made it feel…right?” He shook his head, “I don’t know Herb, I can’t get my head around it, she made me feel peaceful, my head was quiet when I was with her and I craved it.” 

“It must’ve been hard to resist being around her if she had that effect on you, especially in the city,” Herb replied and Frankie nodded. 

“I never should’ve gone back to the bar after the first time, but shit…” Frankie trailed off again and Herb glanced over at him as the truck bounced over the last mile of dirt road up to Frankie’s cabin. He pulled up in front of it and killed the engine. 

“Are you staying in touch with her? The other woman?” he asked, and Frankie shook his head. 

“Na, I fucked up, she doesn’t want anything to do with me. I told her I was leaving though, so that’s it, I’m out of her life.” 

“Take it as a lesson Frankie,” the older man said, putting his hand on his shoulder again, “Take it as a lesson and learn from it, even though you feel like shit about it now. Maybe you’ll find your way back to her some day, or maybe you’ll find someone who makes you feel the same as she did. Either way, when that day comes, make sure you’ve learned from your mistakes and don’t repeat them. Be honest to yourself and to those around you. That's all you can do.” 

Frankie nodded and put his hand over Herb’s on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze, “Thanks man, I needed to hear that. I already know it, but I needed to hear it.”

He pushed the door to the truck open and raised his hand in a wave, “I’ll see you tomorrow, thanks for the ride.” 

“Miranda is cooking you dinner tomorrow, you can’t say no,” Herb grinned and Frankie gave him a quick thumbs up. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, I know she’s fed up with your conversation topics,” He grinned at Herb and closed the truck door. 

Out of sight, out of mind.

That's what she'd thought, but no such luck. It was like knowing that she had a way to contact him made the intrusive thoughts even louder. Not even the loud noise in the bar that evening could drown them out. She sighed loudly as she called dibs on dishwasher duty and took a stack of glasses into the back. The murmur of the guests, the low bass of the music, it was muted back here and she took a moment. Leaning her forehead against the warm metal of the industrial dishwasher hood, she closed her eyes. 

Frankie’s face drifted into her mind and she remembered what he’d said about the noise, how it grated on his ears. She’d never thought about the noise of the city like that before. To her it was just a constant buzz in the background, a comforting hum that let her know that she wasn’t ever truly alone. But Frankie hadn’t felt that, and the way he talked about the quiet of the prairie, of where he lived in Montana, made her long for that kind of silence.

“Makes my mind go quiet and it makes me calm, it’s easier for me to live with myself out there.” 

For the first time she thought she might understand what he meant, she felt like she wanted to sit in a quiet room and just sort through her thoughts, like sorting a bookshelf. What to keep, what to throw out, what should she read next? 

What should her next step be? All she knew was that living with Frankie as a constant distraction in her head wasn’t going to work. 

With a groan she pushed herself upright again and went back to the bar. A woman snapped her fingers at her as soon as she opened the door, snapping and waving for her to come over. 

“Excuse me, miss? Miss?” she called while Aisling made her way over to the table. 

“How can I-” 

Aisling didn’t even get to finish her question before the woman was talking over her. 

“I had this wine, in a bar over on India Street, it was red, from Bulgaria I think, maybe Romania. Do you have anything like that?” 

“No, sorry, we don’t have any wines on the menu. We only have beer, but we have some re-” 

“You don’t have any wine?” The woman interrupted her again and Aisling forced her customer service smile to stay put, her cheeks aching. “What kind of a bar doesn’t serve wine?” She looked over at her laughing friends, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. “You’ve got to have something? Can’t you go to the bodega, or like the bar next door and buy a bottle?” 

“The owner of the bar has decided to specialize in beer only, but we do have some very light, fruity beers that are almost wine-like, if you’d like to try one?” 

The woman pursed her lips and looked like Aisling just deeply offended her, but then she shrugged, waving her hand in Aisling’s direction as she turned back to her friends. 

“Sure, whatever, just get me something to drink.” 

Aisling gritted her teeth into a smile, “Ok then, coming right up,” and turned back to the bar. She grabbed the Belgian beer and sent the runner over to the table with it, before she got back to serving the line of patrons at the bar. 

The bar got louder and rowdier as the evening moved on, and both Jenny and Aisling had to dodge unwelcome advances from tipsy customers. Jenny slapped away the hand of a man who reached across the counter in an attempt to hook a finger into her neckline, shouting abuse at her as he spilled his drink in the process. Aisling stepped in and chewed him out, getting the bouncer to bar him, to loud protests from his equally drunk friends. 

The whole vibe was in itself not unusual, a regular Saturday night, but Aisling felt her patience running thin, impatiently snapping at any man who got too close. The table with the rude woman left and Aisling cursed under her breath when she saw that they’d left no tip, scooping up the exact change from the table. 

The final straw came when she was collecting glasses towards the end of the evening, the bar crowd thinning out as people went home or on to some club. A man stumbled from the rest room as she bent forward over a table to retrieve a glass. As he walked behind her, he grabbed her hips and grinded his groin into her ass, groaning loudly and whooping. She pushed back, making him stumble backwards into the wall, and he cursed loudly as his head made sharp impact with wooden slats. 

“Fucking bitch!” he yelled, grabbing the back of his head, “What the hell is wrong with you?” 

“Keep your fucking hands off me!” Aisling snapped back at him, getting ready to kick him in the balls if he tried advancing on her. The drunk man took one stumbling step forward, rage across his features, but was halted by Mickey, the owner, holding up his hands in front of the man in a placating gesture. 

“Sir, please, the next drink is on the house, I apologize for her behavior,” he said, attempting to usher the man away from Aisling and towards his friends at a nearby table. 

“She fucking assaulted me,” the man protested, “I want her fired.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Mickey!” Aisling spluttered, “He was dry humping my ass and you’re giving him a drink on the house?!”

“Fucking fire the bitch!” the man yelled as Mickey ushered him towards his friends who were waving at him to join them. 

“I’ll talk to her,” Mickey assured him, snapping his fingers at Jenny to bring over another beer. 

“Mickey!” Aisling protested, and he rounded on her, hissing as he got up in her face. 

“It’s part of the job, Aisling, just brush it off. Your attitude is bad enough as it is these days, making a scene isn’t exactly helping your case. Or your tips.” 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Aisling blurted, “You’re telling me you’re fine with a guest grabbing my ass and dry humping just so that we can get more tips? Why don’t you just hire a prostitute?!”

“Now, listen, Aisling-” 

“No, you fucking listen!” Aisling snapped, her temper getting the better of her as she felt the injustice of the whole fucking night fuel her rage. “Fuck that guy, and fuck you for taking his side, fuck your bar and your stupid fucking overpriced pretentious beer.”  

Aisling threw the rag she’d been holding on the floor as Jenny stared at her from across the bar, as did pretty much everyone else. But Aisling was too furious to care, and she didn’t even register Mickey yelling at her as she stormed through the back door. Cursing she wiped at the tears that welled up, she hated how she always cried when she got mad, and grabbed her bag and jacket. She was outside in the back alley before she’d even gotten out of her uniform shirt, and with an angry growl she ripped it off, buttons bouncing over the ground. She pulled her own shirt from the bag and yanked it over her head as the back door opened. It was Jenny, her eyes wide as she glanced back over her shoulder. 

“Mickey’s livid, I think he might really fire you this time,” she gasped, “Come back in and apologize, please!” 

“No fucking way, I quit, I’m fucking done,” Aisling replied, tugging her jacket over the t-shirt as she started to walk away down the alley. 

“Aisling!” Jenny called after her, nervously looking between the door to the bar and Aisling’s retreating back. “Aisling! I’ll call you tomorrow! I’ll get him to not fire you, ok?” 

The interior of the cabin smelled stale and musty as Frankie pushed open the door. Leaving it open, he dumped his duffel bag on the nearest chair and went to open the windows and let the clean air inside. The smell of the prairie drifted in on the draft and he inhaled again, it smelled like home in a way he’d never felt anywhere else. A little it reminded him of his childhood back in Texas, but mostly it just reminded him of life here. 

He sank down on the couch and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. He should shower, should heat up a can of something for dinner, but he just needed to relax for a minute. A coyote barked from somewhere outside and Frankie pushed himself off the couch and went to the front door, sinking down on the porch swing. The night in front him was dark but he could make out the shadows as his eyes got used to the faint light. 

The coyote barked again, and Frankie heard the underbrush rustle as a startled rabbit scurried away. He relaxed back against the wooden slats and kicked it into a slow swing. The sky above him was sparkling with stars and out of habit he found the North Star, a constant in the northern hemisphere, it had helped guide him many times. 

The coyote yapped again, closer this time, and Frankie scanned the darkness just out of his field of vision, straining his eyes to spot the glimmer of the animal's eyes. His ears felt unfamiliar with the silence after the weeks in the city, but after a while he could pick up the faint rustle of the wind through the dry grass. A twig snapped nearby and as Frankie looked over, he saw the coyote. It had frozen mid step as it spotted Frankie’s movement, and now the two of them stared at each other across the front yard. 

“Hey there, boy,” Frankie said in a low voice, “what you up too?” 

The coyote blinked as its ears moved forward towards the voice and Frankie chuckled. 

“Are you the welcome wagon? I appreciate you keeping an eye on the place while I was gone, but there’s no food here, boy. Better get a move on or that jackrabbit’s gonna get even further away.” 

The animal regarded Frankie with curiosity for a few more seconds, before a sound behind drew its attention and it turned its head towards the darkness. 

“Go on, boy,” Frankie said, keeping his voice low, and the coyote looked back at him once again, before it turned and disappeared into the night. Frankie watched the spot where it had been swallowed up by the shadows for a while before he got to his feet with a sigh. He felt content. There was a dull ache in him, a hole left by Aisling, shaped by the guilt and regret he felt, but he hoped it would fade over time. He would take Herb’s advice and learn the lesson, make sure he didn’t make the same mistake again. 

Aisling slammed the door to her tiny apartment, reality starting to catch up with her as the rage abated. Sinking down on the bed she dropped her head in her hands, sighing deeply. It wasn’t that she got fired, she could probably convince Mickey to take her back. If not, there were thousands of bars and cafés around Brooklyn, she’d find a new job. 

No, it was the idea of going back to another bartending job, or being a barista, smiling for tips, being polite to rude customers and dodging their advances. She was in her forties, and up until now, her life hadn’t bothered her. She made enough to pay her small bills, buy bodega sandwiches and the odd evening out with friends. It had been enough. Kicking off her shoes, she lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. 

It had been enough. Past tense. 

It irked her to admit, but at the root of it, was Frankie. The way he’d talked about his life in Montana, so different to how she lived. How he couldn’t handle the noise and the rush of New York that she just took for granted. He just wanted to go back home to the silence, the big open sky, where his mind could be quiet. And for the first time in her life, she craved the same silence. And she craved him. 

She sat up on the bed, staring at her small bookshelf. She could almost reach it from the bed, the room was that small and suddenly she couldn’t stand it. She took two steps across the floor and pulled out the book, finding his note at once. The handwriting was so neat and precise, it didn’t really say anything about the man who’d jotted it down. As she sat down on the bed again, she smoothed out the paper, ran her hand across his name before she looked around the the room again. 

What do you have to lose apart from time? 

Dignity? 

Girl, what fucking dignity? You’ve just been fired from a dead end job, you live in a derelict Greenpoint relic that’s about to be knocked down, your life fits into two bags, one if you leave the books behind, what the fuck do you have to lose? 

It was no effort to pull her phone from her pocket and look up the bus time table, just looking. Just checking to see what it would cost and how long it would take. She could afford the one way ticket, but not the return. 

Fuck it. 

They had bars in Montana. 

Before she could change her mind, she pulled the duffel bag from under the bed. Her life really did fit into it, but she had to leave almost all the books, only two for the bus fit in the bag. In a final moment of uncertainty, she pocketed the key for her apartment instead of dropping it in the mail slot. Her whole life was packed up and on her shoulder in less than an hour, the thought both made her feel free and miserable. So many years with so little to show for it. But there was nothing to hold her back. One big leap made easier by her small bag, and it made her feel free. 

The window in his bedroom was open when he went to bed a little bit later on the first night back, and he crawled under the covers, feeling his mind starting to churn the second he closed his eyes, the events of the past three days rolling inside him.

Maybe I should’ve tried a little bit harder? What if I’d stayed, got my own place? 

He shook his head even as it lay on the pillow, he knew it was a pipe dream. 

On my own, I would’ve been so fucked. Probably gone back to Eva, or worse. But maybe I should’ve asked for Aisling’s number, or given her mine, just to stay in touch. She must’ve felt the same thing, right? 

He chewed his lip in the darkness, listening to the sounds of the prairie night outside with half an ear. 

She probably didn’t feel the same way, why would she? You’re grasping at the thinnest fucking straws, Morales. She’s not fucked up like you, doesn’t need saving, she’s got her shit together. It was just like a regular hook up to her, she’ll forget you in a week or two. 

He grabbed the pillow and rolled over onto his stomach and buried his face in it as he shook his head. 

Yeah, maybe, but she was still fucking pissed at me three days ago, and it had been what? A month? Would she still be that pissed if it meant nothing to her? Maybe if I give her some time? 

Pendejo, she was pissed because you didn’t tell her you had a fucking girlfriend, any woman would be pissed about that. 

He rolled the thoughts around his head, making lists in his head, pros and cons, feeling like his old army brother Will who always counted things, bullets, kills, days, months, number of times Frankie had fucked up. 

But as his mind drifted back to his trio of close friends he could hear the advice they’d give, and in the darkness, it made him smile as their voices echoed in his head. 

Will, the oldest and definitely the wisest, would cross his arms and give Frankie a thoughtful look, thinking through the options before he answered. 

Herb’s right, Fish. Take it as a lesson for your next step in life. Maybe you’ll see her again, maybe you won’t, but don’t waste this opportunity to learn something about yourself. 

Benny, the younger brother of Will, would shrug as he furrowed his forehead with a sympathetic look that didn’t really mean much, Benny could pull new women every night if he wanted too. 

It sucks, Fish, she sounds special, but I mean…do you really want to be in a relationship now? We should go out sometime and have a bit of fun. You know I’m a great wingman.

Yeah right, Frankie thought, grinning to himself. Going out with Benny to a bar meant Frankie ended up as the wingman instead while every woman in the place made eyes at the muscular blonde guy. No one looked at Frankie when Benny was in the room. 

And then there was Pope, his real brother in everything but blood. The disappointment from him about his many relapses had always been the worst to endure and it had made Frankie withdraw. In hindsight he knew it was all on him, but a piece of him wished Pope had tried harder to stay in touch when Frankie needed him the most. By now, it had been over a year since they last spoke. But Pope would always take one look at Frankie with those sharp eyes and see straight through him. And in this, he would set him straight about what he needed to do. 

Go back, hermano. If she makes you feel like that, go do what it takes to have her in your life. Even if it’s just as a friend. What have you got to lose? Not many good things have happened to you lately, if she’s one of the few, fight for it. 

Frankie sighed, rolling onto his back again, staring at the open window, a few faint stars visible. He’d pulled away from them all, from everyone in the past, in the depth of his addiction and then during his slow road to sobriety. He’d told them he’d moved to Montana only after he’d moved, sending them a text in the group chat about his whereabouts. Benny had given him a thumbs up, Will had replied saying something about whatever he needed. Pope hadn’t even replied. 

Suddenly he missed them, more than he had in a long time, ever since they came back from the doomed mission to Colombia. A mission they had no business being on, a greedy grab for money disguised behind some sort of invented moral about going after a top narco lord. It had been a disaster, leaving them more broken than ever, their team leader dead, and their brotherhood almost torn a part. 

He reached for his phone, finding Pope’s number and quickly, before he could change his mind, he typed a message and hit send. 

Port Authority after midnight was even more of a shitshow than she’d expected, and she quickly made her way through the sparse crowd to the right bus stop. The bus wasn’t due to leave for another forty minutes and she pulled out her phone again, nervously tapping the locked screen. She hadn’t bought a ticket yet, her nerves holding her back. Butterflies, and not the good kind, fluttered in her stomach. Apart from short trips to Long Island, a few weeks living on Staten Island that she’d rather forget about, she’d never left New York. Never left the state, never had the money, or the need too. Now she was facing two days on a bus, leaving everything behind based on a shitty night and a man she hadn’t spoken to in three months. Her lip was chewed raw by the time she unlocked the phone and the bus rolled into the stop.

She stood with the phone in hand, looking at the screen, the small ‘Buy’ button taunting her, even as the driver opened the door and announced the departure. The other passengers began to load their bags into the hold, and still her thumb hovered over the button. 

A high pitched squeak pulled her attention away from the phone and she looked towards the source of the sound, further down the plattform. A fat, well fed New York city rat, was attacking a pigeon, it looked like it’s wing was broken. As Aisling watched, the rat sank its long, yellow teeth into the neck of the bird, and dragged it underneath a dumpster by the wall. She heard another pathetic squawk from the pigeon and then it went quiet. With a shudder she turned back to the phone and hit ‘Buy’. 

Fuck this city. 

Frankie blinked in confusion at the bright sunlight that streamed across his face.

“Jeez…” he muttered to himself as he rubbed a hand over the stubble on his jaw and glanced over at the clock radio on his bedside table. He hadn’t set his alarm and now he was later than he usually would be. His belly growled, reminding him that he’d forgotten to eat last night, and with a yawn, he dragged himself out of bed and into the shower to start the day. 

He ate a can of ravioli from the pan while standing at the stove and poured the black coffee in a travel mug before he headed out the door. After reconnecting the battery the old truck rumbled to life and he gave it a grateful pat. At least some things were always dependable. 

Herb greeted him back at the ranch and then sent him back into the routine of the day without nonsense, telling him to go over the tack of the horses that would be going out on the trail with a group of guests the next day. 

Frankie was met by a sharp whicker as he stepped into the stable, two large heads turned to him as he pulled the door closed. The buckskin horse whickered again, bobbing its head up and down and Frankie chuckled, stepping over to her. 

“Hey, Dolly, my girl. Did you miss me?” he muttered, scratching her forelock as she nudged his arm for treats, nuzzling close to his shoulder. Frankie rested his head against hers and inhaled the familiar smell of her coat as she affectionately nipped at his shirt. 

“Sorry I left without saying goodbye,” he said, “but I’m back now, and I think I’ll stay. Gonna take you out later today, you can make sure I can’t walk tomorrow, my butt’s gonna be so sore.” 

He chuckled at his own joke as Dolly gave a low whicker, her soft nose bumping his pocket. 

“Sorry, I forgot to bring something, I’ll make it up to you later.” 

She gave him a snort but seemed to forgive him as he continued to scratch her mane. After a few minutes he gave her a final pat and went over to the tack room, giving the other horse a pat too. His phone started ringing as he opened the door to the tack room and Pope’s name flashed across the screen. His thumb hovered over the green button for a few seconds before he drew a deep breath and hit it. 

“Hey Pope, it’s been a while,” he said in greeting, dropping his eyes to his boots without even realizing, as if Pope was standing in front of him with those sharp eyes. 

“It has, but it’s good to hear from you, Fish,” came the voice of his oldest friend on the other end, “You still in Montana?” 

“Yeah, but I just got back from New York, long story,” Frankie replied, “All good with you, hermano?” Calling Pope brother was almost a code between them, a word only used when it meant something, when it was time to listen. The word a special signal between just the two of them, brothers in all but blood. 

Frankie could hear Pope’s smile through the phone, a low chuckle almost in relief, “I’m good, hermano. Still in Florida, still with Linda.” Pope had started dating her back when Frankie had been deep in his addiction, and he’d only met her twice, neither time a very good memory. But from what he’d heard from Benny, she made Pope happy and they were good together. 

“That’s great, man, I’m happy for you, I…I know I didn’t make the best impression on her, but she seemed great for you.” 

“She is, and I’m…” Pope trailed off for a few seconds as Frankie heard the sound of someone moving on the other end, a low ‘bye, love you’ from Pope, and a door closing. “Sorry, she’s just off to work, yeah, she’s amazing, I’m really happy, found some peace, you know?” 

Frankie shuffled his boots on the rough concrete floor of the tack room and leaned against the workbench, a sudden spout of jealousy tightening his throat. 

“Yeah, I know, I’m happy for you, really, man. It’s great to hear that you found it.” 

“What about you, Fish? You still clean, doing ok out there in cowboy country?” 

Frankie could hear the smirk and the exaggerated twang in Pope’s voice and he chuckled. 

“Yeah, I’m good, still clean, still working the ranch, but…uhm...Eva and I broke up. She moved to New York a while back.” 

“Shit, sorry to hear that,” Pope replied, “But I…” 

“Listen, man,” Frankie interrupted Pope, he didn’t want to go into the whole business with Eva over the phone, and he could hear his friend gearing up for a longer conversation, “I was thinking last night. I know I’ve been shit at staying in touch, but I want to change that. I’m not coming back to Florida any time soon, but maybe you and the Millers could come out here? I wanna show you guys my life out here.” 

“Frankie,” Pope smiled down the phone, “I’d fucking love that, and you know the Miller’s won’t say no to some ranching. Let me talk to them, we’ll find some dates that work and let you know.” 

“Awesome, man, it’ll be good, I’ll make sure Herb books you into one of the nice cabins.” 

“And get me a horse that won’t buck me off,” Pope laughed at the other end and Frankie grinned. 

“I’m not promising anything, might put you on the mule.” 

“Fuck off,” came the instant reply. 

“You’ll love the mule, Pope,” Frankie laughed before he glanced over at the saddles waiting for him, “Listen, I’ve got to get back to work, we’ve got guests coming tomorrow,” 

“Alright, hermano, we’ll see you soon, ok?”

“Yeah, see you soon, hermano.” 

Frankie felt the smile stretching his face as he hung up the phone, he felt lighter already. Guilt and shame had kept him away from his old friends, and reconnecting might not be easy. But this was a small step towards it and he needed to move forward. Put Eva and New York behind him, get over Aisling, learn from his mistake and rectify those he could. With a deep exhale, he hoisted the first saddle off its perch on the wall. 

The Greyhound bus rumbled away down the pin straight highway, heading west, towards the darkening mountain range. The sun slowly sunk behind the highest peaks, soon their shadows would touch her feet. Looking back, east, towards a past she’s left on a whim, she sighed and let her eyes drift up to the indigo sky. Big sky country indeed. 

So alien to her eyes, so open to someone used to living their life surrounded by tall buildings, busy people, small trees in small parks. 

Here, the open prairie gave speed to the cold wind hurtling down from the mountain range, whipping dirt from the road, tugged at her loose hair. She briefly closed her eyes against the particles of dust, inhaled deeply, tasting it on her tongue, dry grass in the air, a hint of snow from the mountains. No way back now, the bus too far away to stop. Only her duffel bag and a phone number, hoping he’d pick up and let her in. 

Aisling turned around and crossed the road, the bright lights of the gas station at the edge of town spilling across the dusty asphalt. She pushed open the door and nodded to the clerk behind the counter, dropping her bag by one of the small tables next to the coffee machine. His number was already in her phone, but she hadn’t had the courage to call him yet. But now she was here, and he was only a short car ride away. 

She closed her eyes, sending up a silent prayer, and tapped Frankie’s name on the screen, pressing the phone to her ear as it rang. 

Chapter 7

A/N: So Aisling finally got herself out to Montana on a bit of a whim, spur of the moment decision. But how is Frankie going to react when she suddenly turns up on his doorstep?

tag list: @harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3  @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @amyispxnk @thewiigers  @lady-bess @missladym1981 @peppermintfury @typewriter83 @anoverwhelmingdin @vabeachazn

[grandlinedreams]

Hii, how you doin, hope you doin well! Saw your request is open and can I request a strawhat crew reader who collets plushie and the strawhat crews reaction to it? Like when the reader first joined the crew there's only one or two plushie but every time they get to a new island the reader always gets a minimum one plushie of that island untill the plushies are everywhere in the sunny. Its okay if you deny my request and thankyouu if you take it. Thats all bye byee ♥️

Hiya papaya, I can absolutely do that!! That's so cute 🥺 I hope I can do this justice for you!!

[Heads up!: nothing but fluff!]

Luffy ㅡ definitely doesn't see anything wrong w your growing collection and sometimes will help you pick one out if you're having trouble choosing. Definitely the reason you have plushies that resemble each member of the crew in some way or another.

"Whoa, hey! This one looks like Zoro, don't you think?" It's a green tiger plush that's been marked down because it's missing an eye, and Luffy grins as he hands the plush to you. "You should definitely get this one!"

ㅡ

Zoro ㅡ doesn't understand why you have so many, but also won't tease you about it either. Probably uses one of them as a pillow in his usual napping spots because they're scattered everywhere. Once made the mistake of damaging one while training, and you didn't know about it until he dropped the (clumsily) repaired plush into your lap.

"Here." You blink at the sudden weight in your lap, staring at the bear who's left arm looks a little worse for wear. "It was an accident but I know these mean somethin' to you, so..." He huffs when you thank him. "Whatever. Don't get used to it, okay?"

Is he blushing? Maybe, just a little.

ㅡ

Nami ㅡ threatens to sell them for beri just kidding, she understands the value behind stuff that reminds you of a childhood you might not have gotten to enjoy fully ㅡ they may not be tangerine trees, but she gets it. Might scold you a little if you're bringing back something expensive, but also not above helping you pick them out, like Luffy. Also will pick one up for a cuddle if she needs it, but also will help repair them if they get damaged.

"Here you go." She hands you the little dog and when you give her a confused look, she elaborates. "I saw the idiots tossing this little guy around yesterday, so his stuffing got pretty lumpy and I wanted to fix it for you. Little guy's good as new."

"Thanks, Nami."

She smiles. "No problem. Next repair won't be free though, okay?"

She's half teasing, half serious. Watches as you cuddle the plush to you, enjoying the soft plush of it and faint scent of tangerines.

ㅡ

Usopp ㅡ also kind of confused because you're a pirate, what do you need with so many stuffed animals? If it's a comfort thing, he leaves it at that ㅡ also makes voices for them if you're upset and he's trying to cheer you up. Could also be talked into working with Frankie and trying to design something so that some of them aren't just toys, but he won't do it if you don't want him to.

"Mr. Cat saw you were upset and he wanted to come check on you." You watch as the bell around the toy cat's neck jingles with the way Usopp walks it over to you, then up at the sniper himself. He grins nervously, then offers the plush to you. "Do you want to talk?"

"Not right now," you say, but hug the plush to yourself and offer him a weak smile. "Thanks, though."

Usopp's smile widens just a little. "No problem."

ㅡ

Sanji ㅡ definitely thinks it adds to your charm, coos about your duality ㅡ how can someone so lethal in battle have such a cute side too? Picks them up out of harm's way (ie Luffy, Zoro, occasionally Usopp) when he sees them. Also occasionally humors you by talking to them like they're people too.

"Would they care for a drink too?" You look over at the oversized rabbit that's seated next to you and then laugh.

"It's a rabbit, Sanji." His cheeks pink a littleat you laughing, but you soothe it with what you say after. "We could definitely appreciate your company, though."

Also watches where he smokes, does his best to make sure no harm comes to the plushies or that they smell like smoke.

ㅡ

Robin ㅡ finds it cute that you have a hobby like that, but also is mindful of where they're scattere. Makes sure none of them are flung overboard on accident, or torn up by the usual activity on deck. Also borrows one from time to time, either for Chopper or for herself to keep her company while she reads.

"Thank-you for letting me borrow this little one," she says as she hands the owl plush back to you. "They're very soft."

"Aren't they?" You look down at the plush, then offer it back to her. "You can keep this one, if you want. I have plenty."

She stares for a minute, then smiles. "That's very kind of you. Thank-you."

The owl plush becomes a common presence around her when she has downtime, keeping her company.

[redrandomposts]

IM SCREAMING NOT UNSHA'S WIFE DIY-ING HER OWN KPOP IDOL 😭 she's so valid for that tho i admit

unsha's wife : my little pet deserves to sing more bc hes more talented than any other pet out there but i dont want him to be killed in a singing death match bc thats just bad for business

unsha's wife : time to set up a new entertainment agency

unsha's wife accidentally causing the final downfall of alien stage the show bc aliens start to realise that it's better for business and overall entertainment to have their fave human pet idols not get killed onstage and instead are able to release new songs every few months 🧍 they learn the appeal of fanservice and fanmeets !! maybe anakt garden starts the trend of human pet idol groups by making the first survival show. 5050 on whether they kill the losers of the show however 🤷

(our levels of copium is incredible 😭)

till discovering ivan's still alive and speedruns the 5 stages of grief AGAIN. he blacks out and suddenly he has a concerning amount of illegally-acquired navi merch ? what is he DOING ?! he needs to get his shit together and find a way to get ivan out of there bc that's the least he could do ???

hyuna watching tillivan pine for each other from afar and questioning how her life has gotten to this point

— 🌦️

unsha behind his wife: so, like, how much money are we making here?

unsha's wife: what money?

*ivan raking in billions.*

unsha: ...okay, honey.

always listen to the wife, folks!

till, the #1 contributor to illegal ivan merch in the hideout. mizi is close at #2, but that's only because she's always accompanying till on his little... fibbits. I FORGOT WHAT IT WAS CALLED. till brings back so much that they have no choice to sell it... which increases their funds by, like, 270%. ivan the money totem?

for publicity, ivan wears multiple outfits and there's a poll each week to which one they make merch of... till manipulates the votes by getting hyuna to hack into the system and raise his favorite outfit's votes.

heperu sends luka to unsha's wife's company when he sees the success. ivan first meets luka on livestream, where it's like, surprise! here's your enemy from years ago! and they vibe together.

ivan will often give luka more food and then is like, "so where's the best place to disrupt the making of robots?"

guys im fixing luka too he needs to eat more (for the baby too).

the rebellion wanted to save ivan... and then luka showed up and hyuna and mizi is much more reluctant, like, ew it's the blonde twink why is he there?

sorry till your wife is being shipped with another man. what can you do.

[fast-moon]

I'm 30 years late, but...

Star Trek: Deep Space Nine originally aired when I was 10 years old. I loved Next Generation when I was a kid, so I gave DS9 a try back then... and immediately grew bored of it. They weren't going to new planets or having space battles, they were just sitting around in one place discussing space politics, and there wasn't even anyone funny like Data to hold my attention. So, I stopped watching after a couple episodes.

But, since I keep hearing it ended up being the best Trek seres, I've decided to go ahead and give it a full watch-through. Maybe now that I'm 40 and have more life experience under my belt, I can appreciate it more.

Turns out I do! I've finished the first season, so I'll give a run-down of what I thought of the S1 episodes below the cut:

1-2. Emissary: All right, I actually understand the premise this time which completely went over my head as a kid. The Bajorans were under Cardassian occupation for decades, the Federation showed up and drove them out, now the Federation is in control of the Cardassian space station DS9 to help the Bajorans rebuild and return to self-governance. But wait! Turns out there's a wormhole that goes to the other side of the galaxy here and it's suddenly become prime space real-estate! And the wormhole is inhabited by... mysterious non-temporal entities that spit out a magic orbs from time to time and the Bajorans worship them as prophets.

3. Past Prologue: Garak is queer-coded like whoa and gives Bashir a taste of his own medicine about not respecting boundaries. Is also possibly like a quadruple-agent. And tailors a fine suit. Also, Kira got a haircut. There's rats on spaceships?! Oh, that's just Odo. Okay. Still, the fact that he considered that a convincing disguise means there's rats on spaceships?!

4. A Man Alone: A guy backstabs himself and blames Odo for it.

5. Babel: Poor overworked O'Brien gets so stressed out he starts speaking in tongues. Then it turns out it's contagious. And it turns out that it's because someone sabotaged the station decades ago with a dyslexia virus and then just kind of forgot about it.

6. Captive Pursuit: This actually touches on a moral question I'd been wondering about if we ever end up with sentient AI: If something is bred/programmed to like being oppressed, is it more moral to remove it from its oppression even if that makes it miserable, or to return it to its oppression if that's what makes it happy? This episode chose the latter.

7. Q-Less: A surprisingly boring Q-centric episode whose only shenanigans involved a space stingray Vash was trying to sell off. Q really does miss Picard.

8. Dax: Oh, another philosophical thought-experiment: If you committed a crime and then get reincarnated in a traceable manner and retain all the memories of your previous incarnation, can your current incarnation be held liable for your previous incarnation's actions? This episode decides it doesn't want to answer this because she's not guilty, anyway.

9. The Passenger: Bashir becomes even more insufferable and nobody notices.

10. Move Along Home: Samurai hippies come through the wormhole and demand everyone LARP with them whether they like it or not.

11. The Nagus: Quark falls victim to one of the classic blunders, the most famous of which is "Never get involved in a land war with Asia". But only slightly less well-known is this: "Never get involved with a Ferengi when profit is on the line".

12. Vortex: So... Odo just lets a guy get away with murder because he has a sob story and claimed he knew others of his kind? Just because he was wanted unjustly on his home planet does not change the fact that he murdered a guy for hire. Also, Odo can get knocked out by a rock?

13. Battle Lines: Remember that "Great Divide" episode of Avatar: The Last Airbender that everyone hated? No reason.

14. The Storyteller: O'Brien goes down to Bajor to fix the pipes, becomes God.

15. Progress: Kira has to go convince a Boomer to leave his land because they need the resources to rebuild the planet, but he's all "I got mine, screw them." She humors his sexist behavior all episode, then burns his house down.

16. If Wishes Were Horses: Bashir wishes for his own personal side-piece Dax, and real Dax is weirdly okay with this because "boys will be boys". The conflict in this episode is literally solved by thinking happy thoughts.

17. The Forsaken: Odo gets sexually harassed so reports it to HR who just laughs him off because they think it would be good for him to get laid. Then he gets stuck in an elevator with his stalker and it's revealed just how physically strenuous it is for him to maintain his human form all day, and yet he has never been afforded any accommodations beyond a bucket to sleep in. This poor space slime, no wonder he's always so grumpy. #JusticeForOdo

18. Dramatis Personae: TNG's "The Inner Light", but stupid. Once again Odo has to save the day because he's immune to the humanoid crazypox that seems to infect the station every half-dozen episodes, and yet they still just can't find it in their effects budget to adjust station operations enough to allow him the minimal comfort of not having to contort himself into human form every day until he collapses just to do his job.

19. Duet: I am a sucker for "Did the janitors on the Death Star deserve to die?" sorts of moral discussions, and this episode delivered that very well. Also, I'm in lesbians with Kira.

20. In the Hands of the Prophets: Lady who doesn't even have kids at the school nevertheless takes issue that the children aren't being taught in accordance to her religious beliefs. It's been 30 years since this came out and nothing changes.

All in all, a decent season 1. It does show its age in places, especially in its treatment of female characters, and being written before the internet and smartphones caused seismic cultural shifts that its vision of the future failed to take into account. But still, I'm liking it now that I actually understand what's going on. On to season 2!