#self-cleaning ice machine

[crazydiscostu]

Ecozy IM-BS260C Ice Maker

Today we’re getting to grips with the Ecozy Ice Maker, a product that stands out in the market for its convenience, efficiency, and thoughtful design. It is a portable countertop device that offers quick ice production, making it a valuable addition to any home, office, or recreational setting. Let’s get into it. (product supplied for review purposes) Ecozy Ecozy, the company behind the Ice…

[gotta-bail-my-quails]

i dont like taking surveys usually but if it lets me give some scathing remarks to my shitty landlords then boy give me enough space for a fucking novel i WILL tell them to get their heads out of their asses

[euthymiya]

part one ; office mate! gojo ; company heir! gojo ; female intern! reader ; fluff ; pre getting together

Satoru is good at getting things he wants. It’s not because he’s spoiled (although he’s that, too) but rather, it’s because he’s persistent. Annoyingly so. Persistent in that way where he doesn’t necessarily earn what he wants, but scores it just because the other party is tired enough to cave for the sake of some peace.

Case example: you.

You sit across from him as he happily sips on his excessively expensive coffee from all the extra syrups.

“How can you have that much sugar?” You cringe.

He raises an amused brow as he hums, “Because I don’t choose to be miserable. You should try it sometime.”

Glaring, you roll your eyes before taking a sip of your own coffee. Satoru is at least nice and chivalrous enough to pay for your coffee—although, knowing what you do now, it’s not exactly as though he can’t afford it. You’re pretty sure being the heir to the company you intern for means he’s loaded in enough money that a simple iced coffee isn’t too much of a dent in his pockets.

You give him an unimpressed frown before getting to the heart of the matter. “Why didn’t you tell me your dad owns the company?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes,” you hiss, “I’ve been passive aggressively calling you a lazy asshole for two months!”

“Do you change your mind about that?” He asks infuriatingly calmly.

“No,” you admit. You take a long look at him before nodding in confirmation as you repeat, “No, I don’t.”

He pouts a little at that, still cute and aggravating at the same time. “Hey,” he says, only a little wounded and a whole lot excessively dramatic. You can tell he didn’t get a lot of attention growing up with the way he pulls theatrics. Something about the psychology of unmet emotional needs as a child from your one semester of psych in college comes back. “You don’t have to say it so condescendingly.”

“Well, you are lazy,” you point out. He shrugs because…well, it’s a fair point. “But now I know why.”

“So what, if you knew my old man was our big boss, you’d be nicer to me? Is that it?”

You crinkle your nose and give him a look of disbelief. “No,” you say—it’s almost amused. The first ounce of humor you’ve shown around him at all. “But I wouldn’t have wasted my energy caring that you’re a deadweight in the office.”

“Ouch,” he pouts, “I bought the coffee machine on our floor!”

“It’s getting rather faulty,” you hum, “You should consider investing in another one for us.”

Satoru likes that about you. You’re interesting. Interesting not because you’re exceptionally smart or all that impressive—not that you’re bad by any means. Being accepted as an intern here must mean your resume has a degree of prestige to it, but you’re just like any other person in the building. Except, instead of shrugging off his bratty, obnoxious self, you seem to care a great deal about what he does.

It greatly amuses him enough that you’ve sparked his interest.

“You’re fun,” he chuckles, “I like you. You’re not boring.”

“Just what every woman wants to hear,” you bat your lashes, sarcastically giving him a dreamy sigh, “Not boring. How charming of you.”

He grins wider, and something in your heart does a little bit of a clench. It’s so…pretty. Everything about him is pretty. The clean, pristine button down with perfectly ironed pants. The soft, messy hair that somehow adds to his expensive look rather than take away. Those bright, piercing blue eyes that feel like you’re lost in infinity when you look into them.

He’s pretty. Pretty annoying, too—but pretty all the same.

“I’m working on it,” he murmurs.

“What? Your manners?” You snort.

“My charm,” he corrects.

“We might be here for quite some time then,” you tease. You don’t know what it is. Falling into a bantering back and forth with him is so easy—so amusing and, if you’re honest, a tiny bit exciting.

Maybe a background of wealth and fortune makes a man appealing like that. Or maybe he’s just likable. You’re not sure yet.

“You’re saying you’ll be here waiting for me to get there?” He raises a brow, winking as he adds, “So maybe you’re charmed after all.”

“That’s a stretch,” you pretend to scoff. Nevermind the hardly hidden smile on your face—that means nothing. “I just want to watch you fail, that’s all.”

“And if I succeed?” He challenges, looking at you expectantly.

You roll your eyes, deciding to indulge him in whatever petty games he has going on. “In what, being charming?”

“Yes,” he nods, “What if I succeed in being an irresistible dreamboat of an office neighbor?”

“I doubt that’ll happen,” you bite your lip in an attempt to fight back a large, dimpled grin. It’s funny, you think—just up until a few hours ago, all he ever managed to do was pull your lips into a scowl. Now, it feels like it’s impossible not to stretch them into a smile. “But, if it does, I suppose I’ll eat my own words.”

“No,” Satoru shakes his head, lips curled into a serious, unsatisfied frown, “No that simply won’t do. I need better than that.”

“Okay,” you finally laugh. It’s radiant. It comes from your belly and vibrates through your chest. He’s somehow good at it—just one coffee grab during your lunch break, and he’s already managed to earn the sound of your joy so easily. Something about that tickles a weird, unfamiliar spot under your ribcage. “Lay out your terms.”

“You have to be my girlfriend if I manage to make your eyes turn into hearts over my handsomely unbeatable appeal.”

It’s cheeky, his grin. Wide, confident, and still boyishly hopeful. You start to wonder why you ever disliked such an easy to fall for smile.

“That’s pretty bold,” you note.

“I’m bold about the things I want.” You pretend that those words don’t make your heart do a helpless flutter.

“Okay,” you nod, agreeing as you take a final sip of your coffee and hand him the empty cup, “I’ll agree to these unlikely terms. You can start by bringing me another coffee.”

“You got it, boss,” he salutes before doing a giddy little jog to the counter and ordering you another coffee. It’s cute. It has your heart in a scarily fast chokehold.

Somewhere in the heat of the moment, as you watch him fumble over his wallet and almost drop his card while he goes to pay, you think he may have already won the terms to this ridiculous agreement.

But you won’t tell him that, you think. Just to drag out the eager, hopeful look in his eyes that dart over at you and shoot you a sly wink.

———————————

here is part two as promised for @enyathedrakaina bc they sent me cat pics

[cybergoth1]

beyond the cowl | prologue | batfamily x isekaide!reader

masterlist | chapter 01.

summary: you're just a normal twenty-one-year old girl trying to navigate life with a shitty job and a useless degree. life isn't easy, and between expensive therapy sessions and the constant feeling of failure, you suddenly wake up in a body that wasn't yours, with a past that wasn't yours. now, in another dimension, you're dealing with the fact that you're a crucial part of the caped crusade that shaped bruce wayne's life. you're the second robin, the former girl wonder, and the vigilant gotham needed so much.

warnings/tags: swearing. reader being emotionally immature bc we love toxic women. no beta we die like jason todd. reader really needs her lexapro. alfred being a sweetheart in the end (pls lets pretend bane never killed him).

Sometimes you felt like they had lied to you. Straight to your face. Your friends, your family and your professors. 

They all made you believe that something important was out there, just waiting for you. They patted your back while you poured out your insecurities like the self-doubting idiot you are, and with the most convincing tone, told you that the world was your oyster. That opportunities are everywhere.

They said you shouldn't be that worried about getting a job. You still have plenty of time after graduating. Right? 

Right.

Their nice words turned out to be useless the moment you stepped out of college. Your dreams and expectations were shattered during your first month sending out resumes to every single company and agency you could find. And then, before you knew it, eight months had passed without you landing a decent job. The endless rejection emails and mounting bills started to make you lose sleep as you spent countless nights tossing and turning in your single bed.

That’s why you ended up here, one year later, in a café downtown, learning the difference between a flat white and a cappuccino for a living.

You wiped down the counter for the sixth time in the past half hour, keeping an eye out for any trace of coffee left by the last customer when he spilled it all over your hands and apron. The feeling of the cloth under your fingers was the only thing grounding you as your thoughts began to spiral for the third time that day. You couldn’t even hear the annoying hiss of the espresso machine or your manager's high-pitched voice nagging at you about some shit you didn't care about.

You only lifted your head when a customer called you by your name. It was the same high school kid who always ordered a caramel macchiato. Mia or something. Your mind wandered as you pulled a shot of espresso for the new order.

You shouldn’t be here.

You shouldn't be pretending your lifetime dreams were nothing. You shouldn’t be pretending that you feel fulfilled cleaning counters and serving people who barely looked up at your face while you handed them their orders.

You heard Mia asking for extra vanilla syrup.

Shit, that was so unfair to you. You did everything right; every single thing they told you to do. You checked all the boxes.

You got a degree, unlike half of your family, who barely finished high school. You didn’t get knocked up at sixteen, unlike your mom and older sister, and you didn’t get addicted to fucking alcohol, unlike your dad. So why are you still living like this — paycheck to paycheck, unable to afford dental care, healthcare, or even the most basic stuff like a new pair of shoes.

Deep down, you know why.

Poverty is an eternal, miserable, and unbreakable cycle — you were just naïve enough to think you could overcome it with simple actions. You kept your eyes fixed on the tall iced latte in your hand while zoning out. Yeah, time for another therapy session.

“Here you go” you tried to smile while handing her the cup. Hiding your growing anxiety and negative thoughts behind your customer service voice was a skill you were slowly, but surely, building up. But you probably looked weird as fuck since she gave you an awkward smile while muttering a "thanks".

"I still don’t know how you got this job. You look like a psychopath," you heard Nate, your coworker, from behind you, holding an empty milk pitcher.

He would be a nice, solid dude if he didn't act like a middle school bully most of the time.

"Yeah?" you rolled your eyes, finally turning your body to look at him. Damn, he really needed to shave his sideburns; he looked ridiculous. "Want me to tell you what you look like?"

His red hair and weird face made him look like a distressed orangutan. A very ugly orangutan.

He just smirked at your sarcastic tone. Fucking cunt.

"Nah, I'm good".

As the rest of the shift slowly passed, you kept checking your phone over and over, waiting for that email from the agency you applied to two weeks ago. You got nothing, as usual. Nothing besides a text from your sister asking for forty dollars; she probably ran out of baby formula again.

With a loud sigh, you decided to scroll through Instagram while Nate flirted with some customers. You quickly noticed that your college friend Christine had just been promoted again. She had been working at her father's company since her sophomore year, and her longtime boyfriend, Tom, had proposed to her in front of the Eiffel Tower.

Uh, wow, that's nice—good for her.

"Congrats, babe! Oh my god, he's so lucky to have you in his life. And good luck at your new job," you send her a quick DM, like a good friend would.

And you are, objectively, a good friend. You're even congratulating her on her promotion as if she weren't a spoiled, airheaded bitch who never accomplished anything on her own. Christine had everything handed to her on a silver platter; her parents got her an amazing job at their company, then paid for her boob job, her nose job, her new car, and her apartment—the list goes on.

You watched the couple showing off the engagement ring under the Parisian sunset and felt like the most self-absorbed cunt on Earth. At this point, you're used to feeling like that, at least twice a day. You spent the rest of your shift watching her stories over and over until it was time to close.

“I’m heading out,” you said to Nate as you finally grabbed your stuff from the break room. The city felt colder than usual that time of year; you could feel your lips getting chapped every time you stepped outside, so you quickly wrapped your old yellow scarf around your neck while zipping up your jacket. The café was already empty; the other employees had left fifteen minutes earlier, leaving just the two of you to close up.

Nate barely looked at you when you said goodbye to him.

You didn't care.

During your walk to the bus stop, you looked around the dark street pretending you’re not totally shitting yourself under the dim streetlights—holding your purse tightly against your frame, like you're about to be mugged by the thin air.

In those moments of raw vulnerability and panic, the whole idea of vigilantism seemed pretty cool. People in latex or spandex you don't actually know, jumping off buildings and beating up bad guys, defending the working class and pretty girls in distress. That's pretty neat, uh?

And very unrealistic.

Once inside the bus and comfortably seated, you let your thoughts wander again. You didn't know what you were doing with your life anymore. You never did, in fact.

The beauty of the night, the cold air coming from the bus's open windows, and the lights of the buildings dancing against the dark sky managed to soothe some of your pain for a few minutes. Your legs ached after hours of standing behind the counter, you felt burns on your hands, and your feet were uncomfortably squeezed into shoes that were a size too small.

Gradually, you fell asleep leaning against the bus seat, thinking about a nice pair of shoes you saw in the mall three days ago.

The first thing you noticed while slowly waking up was how comfortable you felt. The fabric beneath your body was as soft as silk, and the scent of fresh lavender emanating from it indicated that it had been recently washed—fuck, what is this? Heaven? You whined, shoving your whole face against it and breathing in.

Yeah, that’s definitely lavender—

Wait.

Public transportation didn’t smell like lavender, last time you checked. Your whole body went rigid as a cold shiver ran down your spine.

You immediately opened your eyes.

Fuck, fuck. What the fuck is happening?

You weren't on a bus anymore, that's for sure. Jesus, where's your purse?

“Fuck!” you almost screamed in pure panic as a painful sensation spread between your ribs and stomach, burning so much it seemed to take your breath away as you tried to sit up.

You were on a bed. A king-size bed. Sitting on silk sheets.

“Oh my god, someone kidnapped me—”

You looked around the bedroom as tears immediately filled your wide eyes. Your heart raced, and your hands trembled as you tried to make sense of the unfamiliar place you had woken up in.

The growing panic and fear for your life were so overwhelming that you couldn’t even notice the beautiful, very personal decor around the room or the several photos on the walls and desk, showing your face next to people you had never seen in your entire life.

"Oh, miss, thank God you're awake" a gentle voice said — is that a british accent? — close to the bedroom's door.

That's it, you're going to be killed by a weird, rich old man, and he's going to sell your organs on the black market.

Oh God, you quietly sobbed, you've always slept on the bus on your way back home, and you've never had any problems before—

Through the tears that blurred your vision, you could finally make out the figure of a tall man slowly approaching your bed. He was holding a cup of tea and a plate with what looked like a sandwich.

A cucumber sandwich.

"It seems like you may have hit your head quite hard. And your ribs," he said, handing you the cup and placing the plate on the bedside table. The man sighed loudly. "Master Damian really needs to contain his enthusiasm during sparring sessions."

The cup shook in your left hand as you looked at him with tearful eyes. He politely pretended not to notice your desperate state or the tears in the corners of your eyes as he walked back to the door.

"Hey, Alfie, have you seen my white socks?" another voice called out, this time from the hall.

"They're still on your bedroom drawers, Master Dick."

"Oh, right, sorry."

Wait, that was Batman's butler or—

Your vision faded to black as you collapsed back onto the silk sheets.

tag-list: @rosescarlettx, @btsloveer07-blog, @rainbowstar, @xingyunny, @mikyapixie, @sheep-from-rad, @fandomly-obsessed, @migilore, @natsukicookies, @candlewitch-cryptic, @socialmess-jery, @mona1704, @dieforcoffee26, @stupouid, @astrelz, @dind1n, @cxcilla, @mimi-sanisanidiot, @ceridwyn3, @sunako50

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

All In 14

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power imbalance, low self esteem, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: you meet a mysterious man on a night out with your sister. (petite!reader)

based on the winning option for this poll

Characters: casino owner!Bucky Barnes

Note: The week is almost done.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

“You alright, doll?” Bucky has his arm hooked through yours as you make another round of the black and white room.  

The evening has seen you through parts of the casino you couldn’t even imagine. Private rooms along a hall on the upper floor, past the double wide entries to the grand halls meant for shows and concerts, several sprawling rooms set with tables and machines for the task of gambling, drinking, and general fervour. All splendid and sparkling, but each entirely overwhelming. 

“Yes,” you look at your glass, the same you’ve been nursing for a while. Maybe only the second after that confrontation. The night’s swept by you like shadow. “Erm,” you don’t want for him to think you’re disappointed. You’re not, you just don’t belong. “My feet... the shoes... I’m not used to them.” 

He looks down, his eyes scaling your body slowly as he brings you to face him. He stops at the heels and tilts his head. 

“Mm, I don’t know how you girls do it,” he chuckles and his eyes flick back up, burning into yours, “you done with that, doll?” 

He taps the glass and you nod. You don’t think you’ll finish; it’s all water from the melted ice. He takes it swiftly and searches around, gesturing until one of the bottle girls in their sleek leather pants appears to claim it. You wait sheepishly, embarrassed to have her cleaning up after you. 

“Well,” Bucky faces you with a devilish smirk, “let’s get you off your feet then.” 

Before you can react, he scoops you up. You let out a whoop of surprise and cling to him as the world disappears from under your feet. He holds you firmly against his chest, your legs bent over one of his arms as you hook your arm over his shoulder and place your other hand against his chest. 

“Bucky,” you squeal. 

“I got you, doll,” he struts forward without pause, “you trust me, don’t ya?” 

You look up at him and gulp. What can you say? 

“Yes,” you murmur and hide your face, aware of those around you and their attention. How could they not gawk at this man, especially as he carries you away. 

“Good, doll,” he purrs and strides on, set on his path, unwavering as he leaves the ringing and buzzing of the casino. 

He doesn’t stop until he reaches the elevator, even then, the doors seem to open at his very presence. As he bids you to push the button, the doors slide apart, and he steps on. You fold your arms in and lean into him as it starts to rise. You’re even more uneasy with its building height as he has you off the ground. 

“Doll?” He intones as you shiver. You stare at the transparent walls with wide eyes. He hums and puts a kiss on the top of your head. “Told you, I got you.” 

You close your eyes. The ascent makes you dizzy. Instinctively you wrap your hand around the lapel of his jacket. You feel him take a deep breath. Finally, the doors ding and release you into the hotel hallway. 

He once more advances and your chest begins to knot. Oh. Oh. He’s taking you back to the room. You pop your head up and open your eyes. What... what does he expect? Can you give it to him? 

He stops in front of the same door you’d hidden behind earlier. He asks you to unlock it and you untangle the thin strap of your purse to find the card. He moves with you so you can reach and you slide the plastic in the slot. You’re shaking uncontrollably but you’re not brave enough to ask any of the questions rushing through your head. 

He enters and you lock up. Your whole body goes rigid. He kicks the door shut as he swiftly passes through and he’s unstopping as he breezes by the sofa and the plush armchairs. He enters the bedroom of the suite and your vision turns to a tunnel. 

“Doll,” he goes to the bed and lays you down. You’re jittering as if you’re on ice, “what’sa matter?” 

He lifts your legs and sits beneath them, his feet on the floor as he perches sideways on the edge. You watch him, paralysed with uncertainty. He wiggles the shoes from your feet and your gaze holds onto his hands. He covers your foot with one and his warmth seeps into your skin. The curl of his fingertips into your sole make you moan unwittingly. 

You cover your mouth and giggle as he tickles your arch. 

“You said your feet hurt,” he pushes his thumb against the ball of your foot. 

“I... did,” you utter breathlessly as you rest against the fluffy pillows, “but you...” 

“I’ll take any damn excuse to touch you, doll,” he grins as he works his knuckle into your foot and forces another mewl from you. No one’s ever rubbed your feet before. You never would ask for it. Any sort of touch is scary, even only in your mind. “And to get ya alone.” 

His dark hair falls forward as he focuses on your foot, rubbing, kneading, squeezing, working it expertly. You dig your elbows into the mattress to keep from melting entirely. You can feel the tension retreating. It’s a release you never realised you needed. 

“You keep making all that noise,” he lets one hand crawl up your leg, “and I might not be able to control myself.” 

You squeak and he snickers, glancing over from behind his brown locks. He grins as he looks your over. He bites his lower lips and his chest rises and falls. 

“You are absolutely gorgeous, you know that?” He switches feet and you babble. “You have a good night?” 

You teethe your lip as you weigh your answer. You can’t help the way your cheeks tug and your brow wrinkles as you think of the evening behind you. The faces, the noises, that man, the way Bucky turned fiery and angry. 

“You didn’t?” He prompts thinly. 

“No, it was... nice. A lot. I... so much going on, I’m not used to it.” You try to sit up and he gently tugs so you fall back onto the pillow. “I...” you lift your head to look at him, “that... when you... I don’t like anger.” 

He’s quiet and puts his head straight. He dips his chin, massaging your arch silently. He huffs. 

“I know, doll, but I can’t help myself. The way that man knocked into you. I thought... I thought he hit you at first and it doesn’t matter if it was an accident, he shouldn’t be bumping into pretty ladies like that. He shouldn’t be drinking to the point of idiocy,” he snarls, his grip growing heavier around your foot, “if he’d hurt you, I’d have ripped his goddamn throat out. I won’t apologise for protecting you, doll.” 

“I-- know, Bucky, I know. I appreciate you sticking up for me,” you make yourself sit up and he hangs onto your foot. You wiggle it until he lets go and you push yourself closer as you drop a leg over the edge, “Bucky, no one’s ever defended me like that.” 

He looks at you and tilts his head, “how’s that? Girl like you, you’re a real prize. You deserve to be protected. To be... Spoiled,” he smirks and reaches to touch your hand, “to be admired,” he lifts your hand and admires it, playing with your fingers before he places a kiss on your knuckles, “adored...” he continues to brush his lips against your skin, sending goosebumps up your back, “pampered... tasted...” 

His eyes flit up to meet yours and, in an instant, he has you. His hand snakes around the back of your neck as he forces you onto your back, pushing you down as he brings himself over you. He crushes his lips against yours as you wriggle, your hands trapped against his chest. 

He suffocates you. His beard scratches around your lips as he growls into you, his tongue delving into your mouth without permission. You’re powerless against him. His need is enthralling and overwhelming. His desire is corded into his body and into his grip. His hand moves to cradle the back of your head as he drags his lips down your cheek. 

You puff out, heart racing, as he continues his path along your jaw. You giggle at the ticklishness in your neck as his lips graze your skin. It’s more than just the sensation of his touch, it’s fear, bubbling in your stomach like acid. There’s a truth blaring in your mind; you can’t stop him. 

He nips at your throat and snarls. His fingers trail along your neck and shoulder and hook under the strap of your chest. Your panic surges beneath the delight of his tending. You wiggle your arm free of his weight and put your hand over his as he inches the strap down. His mouth continues its quick advance down to your cleavage. 

You arch your back, not as much in want as in terror. Your writhe and squeeze his hand tighter. You feel his strength and your lack of. You whimper and shove of on his head desperately. 

“Slow... slow down,” you gasp, “please...” 

He doesn’t listen or he doesn’t hear you. He nuzzles just above the swell in your chest, his breath puffing into your cleavage. You latch onto a hank of his hair and yank. You cry out as you bounce helplessly beneath him. 

“Bucky! Stop! Stop!” You beg, “please--” 

He winces and you let go of his hair as he retracts his hand, planting it on the mattress as he pushes himself up. He holds himself over you, his blue eyes blazing hotly down at you. Your lashes flutter and you pout. 

“I’m sorry,” you wilt beneath him, “I was just... scared. It’s... too fast.” 

He stares at you. He doesn’t say a word. That’s it. You’ve blown it. It’s over. You should be thankful that it’s happening so early. You’d hate to waste any more of his time or efforts. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologise once more, “I understand if--” you look away as your eyes tinge, “I’m not that girl, Bucky. I’m not what you want. I can’t...” 

“Don’t tell me what I want,” he snips as he grabs your chin and forces your head straight. He lowers himself until his forehead meets yours. You whine as you flatten yourself to the bed, “I want you...” he growls, “I can wait...” he lifts his head slightly and brushes his nose against yours, “can I kiss you? Just kissing,” he fixes the strap of your chest, “promise I’ll be a good boy, doll.” 

Your lip trembles. You can’t say no. Something inside you tells you that if you did, it wouldn’t be good. Yet why should you think that? He stopped when you told him to slow down. He’s compromising in that very moment. It’s your own stupid self-doubt getting in the way. 

“Okay,” you gently touch his cheek, feeling the texture of his thick beard. He winces but not in a fearful way. He hums and leans into your palm. 

“You like my beard?” He smirks as you feel his weight ease into you.  

“Um, yeah, I guess,” you murmur. 

“You guess?” He challenges. 

“Well, I never... never thought of it,” you give an antsy smile, afraid of saying the wrong thing. You pet the short hair as his gaze sears back at you, “it’s soft.” 

“Soft?” He muses and leans in. You ready yourself but he doesn’t kiss you. Instead, he brushes his beard along your cheek and sends a ripple through you. “Like that?” He purrs and nuzzles along your neck, his beard grazing the crook of it. You giggle, “that tickle?” 

“Yes,” you squeal as the sensation intensifies, “ooh, it tickles!” 

He chuckles and keeps on, his hand creeping up your side to tickle you through the dress. You spasm and nearly choke. You can’t handle it. You push on his shoulders and quake with laughter. He buries his face deeper and his fingers move more methodically. 

“Bucky!” You cry out. 

He hums and snickers again, “mm, I love it when you say my name.” 

“Eeek,” you squirm as he keeps on, trapped under him but so frightened as before.  

You reach around him, trying to find him under the thick jacket. You push your hands underneath and feel along the pressed shirt. You flutter up his sides and feel his muscle clench. You get under his arms and he snorts and crushes your hands under his biceps to stop you. He rips his head up and gives a strained look. 

“Now you really want to torture me,” he accuses with a snarl in his lip, “it’s on, doll.” 

[celaenaeiln]

Is Dick's tendency for self-destructive habits really as bad as some fics make it out to be?

oh interesting!! In some way, yes actually.

Batman (2016) Issue #689

Dick and Alfred!! The duo make me so happy <33

But anyway, it's weird that someone who's so effusive with his affection so often and readily "deflects a moment of genuine emotion." Which is also one of the reasons why Dick Grayson as a character is so fascinating because he's never what people expect him to be. He's like a puzzle box where every time you think you solved, you just opened yourself up to a hard, even more complex one wherein the process repeats on an endless cycle.

He's incredibly self-destructive in the way he drive a burning car off a bridge and he'll know it's on fire, he knows where he's going, but he'll do it anyway because the car has a bomb and it's safer with him than the civilians behind him.

You know what? I just realized he deflects intimate conversations because he wants to keep the focus on the other person. Since he was Robin, Dick has been purposefully neglecting his feelings in order to take care of Bruce's. Right after his parents died, he bottled up his sadness and sorrow because he was worried that Bruce would blame himself and he didn't want Bruce to do that.

It's always been "Tell me what's wrong, Bruce." He's been so busy raising his guardian, his friends, his siblings, his teammates, that Dick has sunk into the role of a performer - the spotlight's on him but the audience is the focus.

I didn't realize until writing this ask but self-destruction is just such a normal thing with him that it's become a part of his personality. In fics it's very obvious when he's being self-destructive or neglecting himself or etc because he's very aware of it but Dick in canon has just made it his thing. It's actually the Titans that realize this and yank him out of it because Dick has no idea what he does to himself.

The New Teen Titans (1980) Issue #28

The New Teen Titans (1980) Issue #28

He's not self-destructive in a way that he's conscious of it but his habits and his lifestyle don't really give him a choice. He literally works himself sick.

The Titans (1999) Issue #9

"Maybe it's too much. Dick --have you considered that? You're working Bludhaven, even joining their force, you still clearly intend to come here to Gotham every time he calls you -- working so hard you're making yourself sick,"

"No. It's not the newness that's the problem."

People are literally telling him to calm down and he's like 'No! I'm perfectly okay. This is fine, let's continue.'

And this isn't even going into when Blockbuster blew up his life and Dick kinda lost himself to hunt him down and make him pay. People understand that Desmond burnt down the circus but Dick was still connected to the people in that circus, like he used his contacts there to sometimes inquire about things going on Bludhaven. The people at the circus raised him along with his parents so killing them was like killing Dick's aunts and uncles and friends and childhood. What happened then and after the SA was catastrophic. To Dick self-destruction has just become a part of him because he aims for perfection in every aspect of his life.

Like Donna said, "He works with the Titans, on his own, goes to school, and then he works alongside Batman..." and so on. Usually people struggle to maintain even one area of their life like just school or family but Dick's juggling, his work, his family, his friends, his relationship, his teams, and is still on call for Justice League incidents.

Titans (2003) Issue #6

He literally dropped everything to come over and break up the Titans (OF WHICH HE IS NOT EVEN A PART OF RIGHT NOW BECAUSE HE'S IN THE MIDDLE OF DEALING WITH THE OUTSIDERS) and the Justice League full on fighting.

He's not self-destructive in the way he doesn't want to get out of bed or that he isn't clean, it's just that Dick Grayson is a machine. He's got ice in his veins and he just powers through everything. Everything he does has to be top notch, so sleep and social life and happiness can say goodbye because he's too busy for that. This is why the Titans are so important to him and for him because they realize this toxic trait of his and do their absolute best to yank him out of this bad habit because Dick certainly can't stop.

So self-destruction has become part of his personality but unlike in fics, it's conducive self-destruction. It comes from his refusal to feel any emotion that isn't for others because Big Brother Dick Grayson and Best Friend Dick Grayson are always there for everyone but the second he's asked to help himself or someone tries to help him, he flakes. He's the best at helping others and being there for them but he's allergic to getting help or talking about himself.

[tsukimefuku]

CHAPTER ONE: PUTATIVE SELF DEFENSE ❀ HIGURUMA SENSEI SERIES

masterlist link | mdni!

❀ putative self-defense.

when a person believes they are in imminent danger and acts in what they believe would be self-defense, when, in reality, the threat does not exist or is not as severe as perceived. 

wc: 5.9K ❀ pairing for the series: professor!higuruma x student!reader

❀ summary.

after your roommate fails to replenish the coffee in your dorm room, you drag your insomniac ass towards the cafeteria before heading to your first criminal law class. unfortunately, things don't go as expected — it's so, so much worse than you could have anticipated. at least, your personal torturer is very good-looking, and has the most beautiful hooked nose you have ever seen.

❀ Tags and c/w.

non-curse au. college au. silly slow-burn rom-com between professor and college student (this is purely a work of fiction, okay guys?) reader is kind of a mess (like, literally). this is cliché with some twists. nobara is the best and worst roomie ever. nobamaki is a thing here. nobody likes cafeteria coffee. higuruma has a best friend, i'm so happy about that. second hand embarrassment. misunderstandings are talked through and resolved. higuruma is a little unhinged, and we love him for that.

thank you so much @redlikerozez for betaing this 🥺

Your morning was a clusterfuck.

Diving your face in ice cold water did absolutely nothing to wake you from your anxiety ridden all-nighter. The world felt like a half dazed hallucination by this point.

Your energy was running so low this morning that you wound up putting your jeans on top of your pajamas pants, throwing a coat over the rest of the mess, and twirling your hair into something that could barely be considered a bun, topping it all off with the ugliest scarf you had — a red polka-dot scarf.

It seemed to be a taunting from the Gods — this was, for some supernatural reason, the only scarf you ever found when you were running late, and you hated the thing, but feared that if you threw it away, some higher power would punish you, and you'd never find another scarf to wear.

You were also scared that if you tried taking a shower, you might end up sleeping under it.

"What are you doing?" your roommate asked, as you pulled your face from the bowl filled with water and ice cubes. "Jesus, you look like hell."

"Trying to crawl my way back to the world of the living. It's not working."

Nobara walked behind you and opened the mini-fridge, grabbing a single slice of cheese and rolling it up to eat it.

"Oh, a breakfast fit for the champions" you mocked, while patting your face with a tea towel.

She scoffed. "Get off my ass, I didn't have the time for groceries."

"Oh, you totally had the time, you just spent it all with your girlfriend in her room!"

Nobara grabbed a crumpled tissue that she found over the counter and threw it in your direction.

You dodged it because you weren’t sure what the fuck that tissue had been used for cleaning.

"Leave me the hell alone! I deserved it before classes started," she complained, pouting.

You laughed as you walked towards the coffee machine, to see if some liquid energy would be enough to pump you through the day.

"Aren't you supposed to be out there already? Weren't you going to head into criminal law today or whatever?" she asked.

And you were, actually.

"So, how is he?" you inquired, tapping around the coffee machine and behind it, looking for the coffee powder.

"Professor Higuruma, you mean?" Nobara got up and walked towards her bed, throwing herself over it like a rag doll. "I still haven't had class with him, but according to Maki, he's kinda weird."

"Your girlfriend's definition of weird for the male faculty members is too broad, Nobara. She said the same thing about at least four or five professors."

She shrugged. "According to gossip, professor Higuruma had to take some time off academia after his PhD because of a mental breakdown."

"Well, he is the guy that got two masters degrees simultaneously and one PhD right after. I guess that does things to a person" you mocked, opening the cabinet drawer. Where is the coffee?

"Oh, that's why he's the head of two chairs?!"

"Yup, Criminal Law and Criminal Procedure Law."

"Well, from what Maki has told me, he likes to quiz his students on the spot randomly," Nobara stated as she pulled her phone from her night stand and began texting.

After looking all around and not finding the coffee powder, you were very much annoyed. 

"Nobara, where is the coffee?"

"We don't have any," she answered nonchalantly, still with her eyes glued to her phone.

You whipped your head towards her so fast, you nearly hurt your neck.

"Nobara, I need coffee. This is not a drill! It's my first criminal law class!"

"Oh, future criminal defense attorney, you definitely need some coffee, no one in their good mind would be wearing whatever the hell that is," she noted, pointing at you. "Especially that ugly red thing around your neck. Why do you still have that?"

"Ugh, now I'll have to go into the cafeteria before class to drink their awful coffee, and it's entirely your fault. Wardrobe editing rights are officially revoked!"

You stepped towards the door grabbing your bag as you heard her ask, "Hhey, is that your pajamas top?"

"No!" you replied, pulling your coat over your hello kitty pajamas top, before going out.

***

I can't fucking believe this.

You got in line to buy an overpriced $2 coffee — overpriced because it basically tasted like dirty water flavored with the souls of the damned — as you looked at your watch nearly every twenty seconds or so.

This coffee was so bad you usually tried to cover it up with milk, syrup and whatever else they had at their clients' disposal, but the aftertaste was always — always — completely cursed.

While in line, you noticed the guy who stood in front of you, and got distracted from your hurry by his back, as silly as that might sound.

He was tall — not the tallest, but at least a head above you — and his black hair was neatly cut by the tail end where his neck met his black suit collar. His posture was a little crooked to the side, one shoulder hanging a little lower than the other, and it felt kind of… charming?

Realizing you were nearly burning a hole in the man's back with your eyes, you averted your gaze elsewhere.

This is pathetic. I'm pathetic.

You figured that you had to be really sleep-deprived — and, honestly, kinda lonely — to be simping over some random guy's back.

Not only that, but while waiting in line at the campus cafeteria, the less sexy place to ever exist.

Class. I need coffee. I need to get to class. I'm pathetic. I’m also almost late.

And almost late you were. Somehow, you managed to wait just until you'd be a little too fumbled on the clock in order to get your ass out of your dorm room's bed to do something about it, and never even bothered to check if there would be any coffee to be made.

Just one of the many minor self-sabotaging shit you pulled against yourself from time to time.

After grabbing the damned drink and tainting it with further things to mask its terrible taste, your sleepless and nearly-late ass, when running across the cafeteria, body slammed by accident the same guy that was in line right in front of you. He was then covered in your coffee — an unholy concoction of said beverage, cold water, milk, and pancake syrup for sweetening. 

Not only that, but to top it all off, you chuckled right after you began apologizing, actually laughing at the poor man.

It wasn't because the situation was even remotely funny, or that you were cackling at his humiliation. You just had the laughter response to stressful or embarrassing situations.

At church, during the national anthem, at an accident, or in the middle of a very hard test — whenever you were really stressed, you found yourself having to hold your urge to cackle.

Unfortunately, even after twenty-seven years, this was something you hadn’t quite mastered yet.

As you tried to grab some napkins from the counter behind him, you slipped, ceasing the laughter immediately.

Instant karma. Seems fair.

Before you hit the ground, though, he held you by your waist and with a hand on your arm. You felt the taut muscles under the suit enveloping you and pulling you back on your feet in one dexterous, swift motion. His shoulders were not slouched anymore.

"Shit, shit, I'm so sorry!" you exclaimed, trying to shuffle yourself away from him. His grip was tight, clearly from someone that had just been startled, and his body felt warm — especially considering you had just covered the poor guy in hot liquid.

As you parted yourself from him, you finally took a good look at the man. 

The best words to describe him right now were disheveled mess. His tie was crumpled, his white button shirt had a massive brown stain from the coffee spilled, his short black hair was messily pulled back leaving a few strands out to frame his forehead, and his ashy black eyes were clearly surprised as he tried to check if you were alright. 

And that beautiful hooked nose.

He was definitely brooding and good-looking — the tired, overworked, insomniac, bags under his eyes and two steps away from sleeping on his feet kind of good-looking.

The front certainly matches the back.

Then, realizing your mind was doing whirls about his appearance, you shook your head for a moment, dispersing the thoughts away.

"It's fine, just let me-" he answered, taping his hands around his suit, seemingly looking for something. 

You had nearly forgotten you were tight on time until you heard the bell ringing. He turned around startled when it rang, cussing something under his breath, which gave you the perfect opportunity to dash away.

"I'm very sorry! I'm really late for my next class, I need to run, but I'm so, so sorry!" you blurted as you took off running, feeling a tinge of guilt knowing full well you had left him alone to fend off for himself with that abominable coffee stain.

So, why clusterfuck?

When you arrived in class, having lost yourself on campus twice when running around like a dizzy duck in a fatigued haze trying to find the right classroom, you saw who was sitting at the professor's desk in front of the entire classroom.

That huge coffee spill was pretty visible, even if he had now closed his suit jacket on top of it.

Shit.

The man was fumbling around with some papers over his desk with one hand while he adjusted his glasses — that he wasn't wearing earlier — with the other.

You sat in the back of the classroom, which had an amphitheater architecture to it. If you were lucky enough, though, maybe he wouldn't notice you.

However, upon further inspection, you noticed that the back of the class was especially empty, and realized at that moment you were standing out like a sore thumb. 

This couldn't get any worse, could it?

You wished for a hole to appear right under your feet and drag you down.

"So, good morning to you all. I apologize for my late arrival. As you can all tell, I had to face some unforeseen circumstances," he began, pulling on the edge of his jacket suit to reveal the brown-colored Rorschach of shame plastered over his white shirt.

Some students laughed, and you recoiled in your seat, praying this was all just a first-day-in-class-embarrassment type of dream.

It wasn't.

"Welcome to Criminal Law I. My name is Higuruma Hiromi, and I'll be your professor. I hope you all can learn a thing or two from me," he said, before stepping in front of his desk and sitting over it.

"So, I'd like to begin this class with the following question: what is fairness?"

Some hands jumped up, and you slid yourself under your seat even further, surely to hit the ground if you sunk any deeper. 

Higuruma's eyes began darting around the classroom.

Something you'd learn in a second about him was that he liked to poke at the students who didn't seem keen in participating, just to create some stormy engagement and get truly unexpected answers.

The ones who lifted their hands, the classic know-it-alls, were the students he considered to be remarkably boring and utterly predictable.

"You," he stated, and it took you a few seconds — and multiple blinks — to realize his finger was pointing in your direction. "Girl with the red scarf, tell me what you think fairness is."

You were at a complete loss for words.

"I… I… Fairness…"

Then silence.

You couldn't muster up anything to say to save your life.

You really should have slept better.

He sighed, and tilted his head to the side.

"Guess I'll have to demonstrate it."

Nobody understood what the professor meant, and much to everyone's surprise, he began walking up towards you, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he did so.

Then, looking straight at you, he stood beside the exit door, and gestured towards it. 

"Girl with the red scarf, please, leave this classroom."

Before you could actually be offended that he didn't even ask your name, you felt your stomach drop, and your face glow a warm, deeply uncomfortable red.

Out of everything you thought could happen, getting kicked out of the classroom within the first five minutes into a lecture wasn’t even listed as one of the top 10 alternatives.

What the fuck? Isn't that a little excessive?

Speechless, you grabbed your backpack from the ground, and lifted yourself up, standing there for a few seconds, completely dumbfounded. The classroom was silent enough that a needle falling on the ground could be heard.

And then, suddenly, the urge came upon you, raining down like a hailstorm.

Laughter bubbled up your throat, and you coughed a little, pursing your lips shut, scrunching your face all around, trying to avoid any sound from leaking out.

He looked at you a little puzzled, and seemed to be wondering if you were about to have a stroke.

You began walking towards the door, but as you were about to cross it, he extended his arm in front of you, blocking your passageway.

"Stay there for a second."

"What?" you asked, coughing a little to shy the laughter away, and his face was once again briefly puzzled when he heard your voice.

A few seconds later, he softly shook off whatever thought that was, and resumed speaking.

"Is this fair? Asking a student to leave a classroom because they failed to answer an open-ended question?" he inquired the other students, waiting for someone to answer.

"N-no, it's not," some guy answered from the front.

Higuruma gestured for you to seat back where you were, and you clumsily stepped your way back, face flustered in utter and absolute embarrassment. This was definitely how bad it all could get. Is he dunking on me for spilling coffee on him and running? That's petty.

 The man was certifiably insane. He was lucky to be so good-looking.

"And why it is not?" he proceeded with the questioning, slowly walking back towards the front of the class again.

"It would be excessive to do so," another student answered.

"Correct. Precisely that, it would be excessive," Higuruma chimed, sitting back over his desk, legs mildly spread as he opened his suit jacket and mindlessly smoothed out his tie with one of his hands. "Criminal Law isn't just about subsuming a person's actions to something the law has described as a crime, and then mechanically submitting said person to some randomly prescribed penalty. Fairness is the most vital and important theoretical foundation when studying criminal law. Not answering a question could be considered some type of in-class offense, sure, and expulsion from the classroom is one possible way to punish the deviant student, but it would be disproportionate and unreasonable to do so."

His gravely voice filled that classroom with no effort whatsoever, and it was an actually pretty good exposition.

It was one thing to describe what a sunset looks like, and another, very different, was to actually show one happening in real time. Words paled in comparison to the crimson, purplish sky engulfing the end of a day.

Most of your teachers, up until this point, had simply begun writing something on the white board at the start of each class, and made less than memorable remarks while spitting out the theory written in the recommended books list in the syllabus. So distant, so abstract, so… Detached from real life.

This was thought-provoking. This was enthralling. Well, this was the reason you enrolled in law school in the first place. 

For a moment, you forgot this professor had just exercised his petty revenge on you, propping yourself up with trepidation. Your tiredness was completely forgotten as his monologue ensued.

He was the real deal.

"Fairness. It will be your guide to assess if a given penalty after a verdict is adequate or not, if someone who acted in self-defense should be found innocent or exceeded their rights in doing so… If the law itself is good enough as it is or should be subject to change, because a penalty might be too high for a seemingly innocuous offense that shouldn't even be a crime in the first place." 

Higuruma paused for a moment to let his students simmer on his words.

"Fairness is the be-all and end-all of Criminal Law. I need everyone to understand this before we proceed, because fairness will be our primary lens in this classroom when studying the subject. So, can I trust that all of you understood what fairness looks like, rather than what it can be conceptualized as?"

He darted his eyes in your direction, and you saw yourself unconsciously nodding in acquiescence. 

You were sure you caught a whiff of a smile on his face right before he resumed his introductory class of principles in criminal law.

***

“We are the only nerds that do this in the teacher’s lounge,” Higuruma stated, as he made his next move on the checkers board.

“You’re probably right,” Higuruma’s best friend replied in his pristine striped gray suit vest, as he thought for a second before making his own move and taking three consecutive pieces of Higuruma’s checkers as he did.

Higuruma groaned in response. Why does he always win on checkers? Goddammit.

“How are you so good at this, Kento? Let’s play chess, just so then I get to win” he complained, leaning back against his chair. “ I can see you winning this one in three moves.”

Nanami huffed. “Checkers was your idea. Besides, we both have our classes soon, there wouldn’t be enough time for a proper chess game.”

Higuruma removed his glasses and slid them inside one of his suit jacket’s inner pockets, brushing the tips of his fingers against his closed eyelids. He couldn’t catch a wink of rest the previous night, anxious to be back in a classroom after such a long time.

It all became very blurry, so he put his glasses back on.

Higuruma didn’t know if he was eager, nervous, happy or dreading this day.

Perhaps a mix of everything and then some.

“I needed something to wake me up. I’ve barely slept, and I’m in dire need of some coffee.” 

“You could try drinking the coffee from the teacher’s lounge,” Nanami pointed out, gesturing his head in the direction of a creepy looking and unkempt thermal bottle. “I wouldn’t advise you on it, though. Only professor Ieiri has been brave enough to drink it so far.”

“I guess I’ll take my chances with the foul cafeteria coffee, I might survive that.”

Nanami smiled as he looked at his friend.

“You’re too overly dramatic.”

At that, Higuruma scoffed.

“And you’re too underly dramatic. That’s why I teach the passionate, great chair of Criminal Law, and you’re responsible for the boring, sleep-inducing chair of Commercial Law.”

“It pays the bills pretty well at my firm,” the other professor retorted. 

Higuruma lifted an eyebrow, as if offended that Nanami thought that argument would dissuade him from his stance.

They were both silent for a moment before Nanami spoke again, noticing the deep eye bags on Higuruma's face.

“Are you having trouble sleeping?”

“No more than the usual,” Higuruma replied, shuffling on his chair, still focused on the checkers board.

Nanami lifted an inquisitive eyebrow, silent for a while, and Higuruma sighed.

“I mean it. I’m fine.”

Still a little unsure, Nanami nodded.

“Okay. Just reach out and come to my office if you need anything,” he offered, slight concern masked under the monotone of his voice. 

“Aw, he likes me,” Higuruma playfully chanted. “So thoughtful of you, my dear.”

“Tsk, shut up,” Nanami scoffed as he got up, taking his neatly folded blazer on his bent arm, “and it’d take me two moves instead of three to have this victory over you.”

“Seriously?!” Higuruma exclaimed, glancing at the board. Upon further inspection, he realized his friend was right. “Shit.”

“Hiromi, go drink your coffee at once. You’re barely functional right now, there is absolutely no way you could teach a class in the state you’re in.”

“Kento, I could teach criminal law in my sleep,” Higuruma mused before lifting himself up. Nanami sighed as Higuruma exited the room.

***

This might be the worst coffee I’ve ever drank, Higuruma thought to himself as he put his cup over the counter and removed his glasses to pinch on his nose. It was all but a failed attempt to air out the foul taste of that watered down, sad excuse for a coffee.

He tried drinking it with nothing — no sugar, no milk, no sweetener, but this atrocity begged for anything to mask the old powder aftertaste.

After folding his glasses and throwing them in one of his suit’s inner pockets, Higuruma let out a heartfelt sigh, just hoping for things to go smoothly that day.

He'd have his hopes torn to shreds in seconds.

Some loud, hasty steps coming in his direction caught his attention, but as soon as he turned to face whoever that was, Higuruma was met with a hot splash all over his shirt and tie.

You have to be kidding me.

“Shit! I’m so sorry!”

He heard a female voice coming from the blurred face right in front of him. Her voice was what he’d call an unusually sweet — if worried — voice. It had a genuinely kind melodic quality to it.

Even if hasty, her words sounded like a heartfelt apology.

Then, she… chuckled? 

Hm… What?

She seemed to lean over dramatically and grab something from behind his back. 

However, on the way back with her arm, her body brushed against his in a worrying fashion, and Higuruma quickly realized she was about to fall. Even though he was over 24 hours sleepless, adrenaline and his reflexes kicked in, as he held her before she could hit the ground, pulling her against him to stand on her feet.

He was still somewhat disoriented from lack of sleep, and failed to realize his hand was still holding her arm intently before the woman squiggled away from his grip.

There was a red blurry thing under her also blurred face.

Only then did he realize he should probably see her face and talk to her properly about the debacle.

The professor said it was fine and began tapping around his suit, not remembering in which pocket exactly he threw his glasses in. However, before he found it, the bell that indicated the time for the first class rang, and Higuruma realized he had completely lost track of time. 

"Fuck," first class and already running late. 

The woman seemed to apologize and ran away, leaving him dumbfounded.

The professor finally managed to find his glasses, fishing them out of his pocket and putting them on, glad that his next class was at the building just around the corner. 

He walked hastily towards it, and got there in less than a couple of minutes, seizing the opportunity to check on his state on the mirror as he entered the elevator.

The coffee stain was humongous and very evident on his white shirt, but he was glad that at least his black tie seemed to fend off fine from the beverage. As Higuruma passed his fingers over the fabric of both pieces, however, it was somewhat sticky. 

He let out a disheartened sigh, stepping out on the corridor and into the classroom, placing his briefcase on the side of his desk.

Now, what will I teach these people today?

Hiromi began ruffling around his papers trying to find the course syllabus, and realized he hadn't brought it with him. These papers were nothing but useless administrative shenanigans, so he decided to wing it in any way he could to illustrate criminal law for the students.

The thing is, how can you effectively grab someone's attention when it's 7 o'clock in the morning, and most people are completely hungover?

With adrenaline, of course.

***

The rest of the class went on without a hiccup, and you had made much more notes than you anticipated you would. His voice had a weird calming and focusing effect on you, as much as you hated admitting it — also, it wasn't so hard accompanying him walking around making his exposition when his face looked like that.

However, you decided you'd talk to him, first off because it would be incredibly uncomfortable to keep going to both of his classes for six months without ever addressing the coffee faux pas, and second because you had just been victimized by the pettiest revenge known to mankind by a college professor. 

You kind of deserved it, but still. It was pretty immature, even if he was Dr. Genius who just taught the best class you had ever seen in your life.

"So, students, we'll have a quick test this week," Higuruma stated, "the Dean has requested that all professors use these to assess your knowledge every month, and I'd like to get this over with as soon as possible."

Many sighs and displeased grunts could be heard around the classroom. He leaned over his desk as he sat, putting his papers away in his briefcase.

"I know, I don't like it either, but at least you'll only need to study a week's worth of content, not a month."

Some hm, fine, ugh, were uttered by the students as they left the classroom. You walked hesitantly behind them all, waiting for everyone to leave before you could speak to him alone. 

You were already going to be remembered as the girl mock expelled from the classroom. No one needed to know you also had assaulted their professor with a desecrated cup of coffee before that.

As you stepped in front of his desk, he lifted his gaze to meet yours.

"Yes?"

Something you hadn't anticipated was that looking at him — and his hooked nose — up close like this would jumble your thoughts around.

Oh, shit. He's handsome.

Dumbified, you spat out the first thing you could think of.

"So, professor, I'm the student you fake expelled earlier," you stated, realizing he obviously already knew that.

Brilliant. Off to a great start.

Higuruma nodded, feeling something prickling at the back of his brain as he heard your voice for a second time.

"What did you think? Was it a good way to convey this class motif?" he asked, finally closing his briefcase and putting it on the ground, completely ignoring the fact that it was probably an uncomfortable experience for all of the people involved, especially you.

You were a little incredulous at how oblivious he seemed to be, and it annoyed you. Was this out of good heart, or was he playing dumb?

"It was a good exposition, professor, but I wanted to talk about something else," you answered.

“5000 yen.”

“... What?”

“That’s my law firm’s hourly fee.”

You stood silent. He chuckled a little, shrugging back.

“I’m joking. I don’t even have a practice. Tell me what you need.”

Is this guy for real?

You cleared your throat before continuing.

“It felt horrible to be on the spot like that out of nowhere, without any knowledge as to what was going on.”

After blurting it out, you braced yourself, knowing full well by now that professors were usually pretty big ego'd kind of people. Nonetheless, this had to be said, at least for the sake of the next student he decided to torture with one of his experiments.

He looked at you with wide eyes, and seemed to ponder for a moment.

“Oh, I see. My apologies,” Higuruma offered in earnest, while his face softened.

You were very surprised.

“Oh, okay," you mumbled as you scratched the back of your neck, "I accept your apology. But maybe you should really give the student a heads-up next time you intend to do that.”

“That would presume I consider that students are people, and not minions to torture.”

Uh?

“Also a joke.”

“You’re not very good with those.”

Did I say that out loud? 

He simply stared surprised at you, seemingly a little shocked.

I did say it out loud.

"Fuck."

And that too. 

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Higuruma suddenly chuckled, much to your surprise. Your eyes widened, and you stared at him, extremely confused as to what was up with this guy.

“You're a sincere person," he noted, and you shrugged hesitantly.

Higuruma was definitely amused at this exchange.

He then proceeded.

"Being sincere is good, but my best friend always warns me to try keeping it to myself most of the time. I don’t listen, of course, but maybe you should for now. People get offended easily.” 

His exposition made you feel a little less out of place — and less alone, for what it was worth. You instantly remembered your parents used to chide you for blurting out things like that out of nowhere, instead of keeping them in your head like other people do, according to them.

You didn't realize you were smiling as you mindlessly opened your coat.

He took notice of your shirt, and began slowly realizing there was something off about it.

"Is that usual?" you asked, out of the blue.

He shook his head, being pulled out of his head. "What?"

"The mock expulsion?"

"Heavens, no."

"Then, why?" you inquired.

He rubbed his face with his hands.

"Because I needed something to wake mine and everybody else's brain up. Classes shouldn't be this early, and I didn't get a wink of sleep last night."

Higuruma was still out of sorts, spilling the tea of his insomniac state to one of his random students whom he had just met.

"Oh, me neither!" you told him, also absentmindedly, on a stream of consciousness rant towards a professor you were talking to for the first time. "Classes should start after noon, at the very least…"

"I know, right? Some things shouldn't be a crime, but making people wake up this early for class definitely ought to be."

You laughed softly, and you both kept silent for a moment, before you remembered what you thought was the reason for the mock punishment.

"Oh, professor… I'm sorry about the coffee."

He was confused for a few moments before broadening his eyes as he finally realized it.

No wonder Higuruma felt like he recognized your voice from somewhere, and now he took a good look at the red smudge he had seen earlier under what he figured was your face.

It was the ugliest scarf he had ever seen.

"I came here wanting to ask if you had done the fake expulsion thing as some sort of…" you sighed, a little ashamed. "Well, I'd like to apologize for staining your clothes, and offer to get you new ones, or at least pay for your laundry fee if needed."

He lifted one eyebrow at you before he resumed speaking.

"I didn't catch your face then. I mean, I didn't recognize you at all," Higuruma answered, "so no. But I'd never… Well, you barely know me, so you wouldn't know, but my opinion on the matter is that professors that exert selfish vendettas against students, for whatever reason, are absolute fools."

"You didn't recognize me? Say what now?"

He pointed at his glasses, and you finally understood completely how all of this petty revenge narrative was entirely in your head.

"I-I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"It's okay."

"But still…"

He sighed.

"It was a possibility, given how things in a college setting usually go, but that is why we investigate things further before prosecuting, right? A narrative might make a lot of sense, up until you confront it with the gathered evidence."

You joined your hands in front of you, embarrassed.

"Yes, I guess so," you answered, "but please, let me at least pay to get your clothes cleaned."

The professor shook his head.

"Absolutely not. You're an undergraduate student. I've been one, I'm quite aware of the financial hardships most of you endure as I've struggled with them myself not so long ago."

Even though you felt somewhat uncomfortable about not evening things out, he was right. This money would be fairly missed — you were already missing the $2 worth of coffee you didn't manage to drink.

"It was an accident, you didn't cover me with your beverage intentionally. Also, you had to leave because you were late for my class," he paused, "and I'm actually flattered you'd leave someone to fend off for themselves against that foul cafeteria coffee just to run to one of my classes."

You chuckled a little, and he proceeded.

"So, it's okay. You don't have to pay me for anything. This is fine."

You sighed, truly relieved, and he was glad you came to talk to him and properly apologize for the blunder.

"Thank you for your time and kindness, professor. I hope you have a good day."

He bowed his head slightly.

"Same to you."

However, something was still scratching at the back of his mind.

"Hm, hey… since we are on the topic of clothing and I just let you off the hook on paying for my dry cleaning…" Higuruma said, and you stopped midway towards the door, turning to face him.

"This might be an odd question, but I'm very curious."

"Hm… what is it?"

He pointed at your sleeping shirt, now evident under the open coat.

"Are those pajamas?"

You immediately pulled your coat over your hello kitty top, lifting one eyebrow in pathetic defiance.

"Of course… not?"

Higuruma thought to himself that you were turning into one of the most unique students he ever had.

"Do you intend to be an attorney?"

"... yes?" You answered, with some suspicion.

He huffed.

"Then improve your lying game for Court. You can do your crazy, but defend it as if it was the utmost truth in the universe, okay?"

Higuruma couldn't quite explain it, but this conversation with you was strangely amusing.

Maybe going back to the classroom wouldn't be so difficult after all, if even half of his students were a little out of sorts like this.

"... Okay," you replied, removing your hand and letting your pathetic sanrio pajamas shirt show once again.

"So, are those pajamas?" he inquired again, more incisively.

You straightened yourself and made a fake serious expression.

"Of course not."

"Much better," Higuruma answered with an actual smile.

The way his cheek creased around his mouth was weirdly charming, just as most things about him, it seemed.

Trying not to stare, you smiled back at Higuruma and turned around, leaving for your next class with heat prickling against your cheeks.

Tag list:

@arusearu @yammy-yammy-yama @markleeisdabestdrug @redlikerozez @delirious-donna

@alwaysfreakingout @murderofravens @senseifupa @higurumapet @cindyneko-strider 

@ohhheymessa @actuallysaiyan @bigbaddulce

[moodymisty]

So I'm suffering from life threatening levels of Perturabo brainrot and got a lil scenario idea stuck in my head while I was taking a shower: One of the serfs that does mundane housekeeping tasks throws all self-preservation aside when a curious little contraption Perty made catches her attention while she's tidying his quarters. It's a harmless trinket he made in his spare time, a clever little puzzle box, and she can't resist the urge to get a closer look.. Cue Perturabo catching her touching things she shouldn't be touching. He feels a flash of anger, but its quickly doused by the look of genuine wonder and awe at something he made simply as a mundane time-waster between campaigns. When she notices him in the doorway staring(glaring) at her, it's like being doused in ice water and she hurriedly sets the trinket down and apologizes profusely as she scurries away. Over the next few weeks, Serf quietly fears for her life due to her impropriety.. While Perty decides he wants to see that look again and sets about making a little courting gift - a music box that plays a lullaby/tune that is popular on Olympia.

Sorry if this is way too specific, you can change whatever you'd like about it to fit your tastes!

PS: I love your writing style so, so, much. Thank you for all you've created and shared with us 💕

Author's note: I like the idea! I changed it a teeeny tiny bit, but only because I didn't want it to run on into a massive block of text. Enjoy, here's some Perty meetcute.

Relationships: Perturabo/Fem!reader

Warnings: Not really any other than Perturabo's attitude

Returning to his private workshop Perturabo can tell by the door being slightly ajar that someone is inside cleaning it, and opens it fully to let himself in. Out of his armor he's wrapped up in clothing more suitable for the cool evening, walking underneath the dimmed lights.

He's always hated bright rooms; The few windows in this room provide enough sunlight during the day to work, and at night to keep it bright enough to work but dim enough to avoid a headache.

Not long after entering he notices your form in the corner, picking something up off the floor. He pays no mind and walks past, completely ignoring your presence other than that momentary glance. He's seen you before; You're usually the one cleaning the innermost parts of his chambers like this workshop. Perhaps you're the only one brave enough, and the only one that hasn't gotten thrown out for being in his way.

Sitting down the chair creaks in complaint but he ignores it, leaning forward over his desk. For awhile he simply glosses over his designs, old and new blueprints with a lack of interest, before his eyes wander away from it all. They're all just improvements for already existing war machines, nothing that keeps his attention for long.

He sees you now working on cleaning an area close to where some of his smaller projects are sitting, collecting dust, but he can tell as you clean one in particular has caught your eye.

It's the old puzzle box he had made when he was far younger; It's simplicity makes him scoff now in shame of his less experienced hands so long ago. Though even then, it far exceeded what anyone on Olympia could dream of making. Perhaps that's why it caught your eye, a stand out among little automatas, music boxes and miniatures.

He sees you looking at it, curiously gazing over the pieces that interlock together. It seems like you're trying to figure it out in your head rather than picking it up and risk his anger. You don't notice his gaze on you, his brow still furrowed but not in anger- deep set eyes hooded in lazy curiosity.

Once you either give up trying to figure it out or realize you need to return to your work you turn away from the box, but your sleeve accidentally catches on the sharp edge of the metal. It shifts and falls off the table, thinking that you're moving it as if attempting to solve it. You uncharacteristically swear, and snatch the box out of the air before it hits the ground.

You look at Perturabo momentarily and see him watching you, and he can see you swallow the knot in your throat. Your back straightens as you look away and towards the puzzle box in your hands, fingers brushing over it as you make sure it's unharmed.

With a grunt of effort Perturabo gets up out of his chair, and he sees you noticeably freeze up at the fear of his approach.

"You're supposed to turn it."

You look up at him surprised for a moment, before looking down at the box again. It's large in your hands, he'd scaled it for his own, but you're still able to fiddle with the mechanisms with little issue. He watches your eyebrows raise as you gain understanding.

"Oh, I see."

He hears the soft clink of one of the mechanisms inside unlocking- he knows there's four left. Your eyes are locked on it trying to figure out the system, and he can see you're making progress, faster than he might've expected you to. He doesn't stop you because of it; He's curious how far you can get.

You stop about halfway to figuring out the next part, and slowly go to place it back onto the shelf where it had been collecting dust.

"I think this would take me quite awhile to s-" Perturabo jerks his chin slightly towards you.

"Keep it."

You look at him wide eyed, and pull back from the shelf to continue holding it in your hands.

"It stopped amusing me long ago."

You thanked him for it, with a soft and sweet smile that made his nose wrinkle, and you got little more than a grunt in response before you finished your duties and left him in silence.

You returned the finished box to him three days later, opened. Perturabo, amused by it, had plucked another puzzle box he'd made in one of his moments of particularly sour moue off a high shelf, and handed that one to you. You'd returned it six days later, solved.

You had detoured from your assigned tasks to return it to him, and left shortly there after. Your hands had barely closed the door behind him before he pulled out a fresh piece of parchment and started to draft a new one, the first he'd be making in many years, something finally keeping his mind busy as he glossed over his old and forgotten creation to make this new one.

He had noticed your tiny fingerprints on the metal one time he'd looked up, pen stopping for a moment as he stared at them before returning to his work.

He's not here today, you notice.

The workshop is empty, though you aren't entirely surprised. The Iron Blood left port this last week, and you assume Perturabo went along with it.

What is surprising is that quite quickly you notice that there's something set out on his desk, in clear view. There's parchment being weighed down by it and you can't help but take a look, having to near climb from how high the tabletop is.

It's yet another puzzle box, you quickly realize. You pull the parchment with it and read the few words at the center of it.

This one should keep you entertained for awhile.

That's all it says, sitting the parchment back down and turning your full attention to the box instead.

It's significantly more ornate than any of the previous ones he'd given you, and still smells of oils and greases presumably from it's recent creation. The puzzle itself seems far more in-depth than the previous ones as well, and you can't help but smile at the realization that he's trying to stump you on purpose. Your fingertips brush over the etchings of symbols and the decorative grooves; He clearly spent a lot of time on this one.

You hold it close before sitting it down, and get to work cleaning. You keep a consistent schedule in this room so there isn't much to be done, and once you finish you're able to take the puzzle box back to your personal quarters and begin figuring it out.

Perturabo seemed to spare no expense in figuring out how to make this one more difficult, having to do puzzles to figure out parts of another puzzle. It takes you well over three weeks to figure out, slowly working at it between your work.

Once you crack it open, you're so excited you barely even realize there's something inside, pulling out the folded parchment. When you unfold it, you notice something that falls into your lap. A necklace.

You weren't exactly allowed to wear jewelry, it got in the way, but you suppose if it came from Lord Perturabo, none of your superiors could complain.

Putting the necklace around your neck you read the words on the parchment, pursing your lips. Your cheeks feel slightly warmer as well, realizing that you're holding something the primarch crafted specifically for you, and now you have not one, but two handwritten letters from him.

Perhaps they're quite short letters, but you count them anyways. Lord Perturabo has never been the wordy sort.

Meet me in my workshop the day the Iron Blood returns to port.

You wonder if Perturabo has always been this roundabout and obtuse. Or if he's for some reason toying with your odd knack for puzzles. You suppose he's bored, he seems to have plans for abandoned ideas all around his workshop. Bathhouses and ornate buildings, unfinished and pushed aside for efficient weapons of war.

You're glad you managed to open it before the Iron Blood returned, but just barely; Two days later is when it- he, returns, and you meet him in his workshop.

He turns to you, wearing lighter clothing given the warm weather. The sun is just starting to set however, the sky turning orange and purple. You notice he's grown a slight bit of stubble on his jawline since returning, and that his expression is surprisingly relaxed.

"How long did it take you?"

He says with not even a hello. Though you suppose you don't really need one.

"I finished it two nights ago. Just barely made it, it seems." He chuckles, much to your surprise. It's a deep rumble you can feel in your chest, and makes you swallow at the feeling of your heartbeat up in your collarbone.

"It seems they'll need to be even more complicated in order to slow you."

You notice his eyes look away from your face and down to your collarbone. The necklace is what caught his eye, you can only guess. you've been wearing it nonstop since you got it. His hand reaches down to grasp the pendant that hangs from it between his two fingers, before he lets it go moments later.

You wonder if perhaps it meant something a bit deeper than what you'd thought at first glance. He wouldn't just give out such ornately made things for no reason. Your face grows a bit warm at the sudden realization that you'd completely overlooked the implication of a man, a primarch, giving such a gift to a woman, but Perturabo either doesn't notice, or doesn't care.

"Sit with me. And tell me your name."

There's a chair beside his own that is similar in size to his own, though vastly oversized for you. You sit down in it and pull your legs up onto the chair and curl them to your side. Then you put your hands on your lap and look towards him and start talking, beginning into a conversation that leads well into the night.

[ginnysgraffiti]

reader as kathy from the bikeriders, very very random.

DANNY x yn.

"no danny, i told you already, benny isn't my boyfriend. and cut this part in your interview or he'll shoot me." you complained, handing him a cup of iced americano you had just prepared on your kitchen counter. danny was on the other side, smiling as he was holding the microphone towards you to get a better sound of your voice.

"ok, ok, promised. what about johnny? do you know something about his wife?"

you took a sip of your black coffee, savouring the sour taste down your throat before answering.

you had known danny for a month now.

you met him at a self-service laundrette in your small village, while you were doing the laundry with your friends. the washing machines were cream-colored, and the clothes smelled like clean sheets after just the first wash.

danny always walked around with his microphone or camera, a small radio attached to his leather belt and his canvas bag where he kept packs of cigarettes or notepads. at first, he had another shoulder bag, but that one bore the emblem of the prestigious college he went to, and he knew the vandals wouldn't like it.

since the beginning of the interview, danny used the guise of a normal confidential interview about johnny and his biker club, even if your daily-laundrette-friends stubbornly argued about the fact that he was just doing it on purpose to flirt with you. he would do a little interview almost every day, otherwise he would take photos of you and the members of johnny's club.

he said it was for a book he intended to write, where he would write down everything he had collected from numerous interviews and decorate it with pictures as well.

as months passed, you got happily used to the clanking sound of what must be a spoon heard in the background of the recording anytime you prepared him coffee, or the soft smile that would play on his lips whenever you made jokes during the interview, or how he would remove his leather jacket to place it on your living room chair and let his biceps be in wonderful display.

you couldn't deny it anyway, you were physically attracted to danny. shamefully attracted.

he was like fresh air to you. he was kind, gentleman, always well dressed and cleaned. he smelled like post-shaving and cologne, nothing to do with the alcohol and cigarette odor that motorcyclists emanatedfrom sunrise to sunset.

even your laundry girls insisted on you declaring your feelings for him, but you kept thinking he had better things to do and you were just someone destined to stay in his future book pages as the girl best friend of johnny's club's members.

"i thought you had interviewed me enough." you told him one day as he entered your house, carefully leaving his boots near the door rug.

"and so i thought." he said, strangely serious and absolutely not caring about the fact that you were only wearing your underwear and a pajama oversized t-shirt.

your pulse quickened dizzily when you noticed he wasn't carrying any microphone or camera with him, but definitely not because he wouldn't have been able to picture you half-naked and make you look bad.

"so...why are you here?" you asked, your voice suddenly little and cracking.

danny reached you with long strides, crossing the room with ease.

"danny- what are you-?!"

he bent down slightly to grab you so as to pick you up, placing you with the usual delicacy on the kitchen counter where you used to serve him coffees.

"i've been wanting this since the first day." his husky groaned and he removed his leather jacket with a smooth singular gesture, leaving him with his black tanktop you always found yourself staring at.

"danny..."

he couldn't listen to you, because he immediately settled himself between your legs, spreading them and hiding his face under your big t-shirts.

his hands did the same and they immediately found your bra, untying it to permit his wet and hot tongue to drown your nipples.

"mmmh-" a guttural moan escaped your mouth involuntarily as you threw your head back. your muscles tensed at the same time and your jelly legs squished his waist.

"i always thought you preferred benny or other members...i wanted to make a move so bad." he whispered, reaching your lips and kissing you softly.

you cupped his face and pulled him off a little bit just to have a better look at his face.

"you're crazy, you know that, right?"

a low chuckle left his mouth, and his throat throbbed a bit.

"how could i even think of choosing them over you!?"

danny smiled softly, and before you could notice, he had already taken off your bra and t-shirt.

[starsandaces24]

DBDA Coffee order headcanons

Based off a Discord conversation

Edwin: He loves sugar. He would pull a Crowley and have six expressos and fill the rest with sugar. Everyone makes fun of him

Charles: Something fancy when he can remember to make it. Energy drink when he can't. He's ADHD, so caffeine calms him down and he self medicates with it.

Crystal: She says black coffee, she actually likes some ridiculous concoction that's half syrups

Niko: She proudly enjoys her ridiculous concoctions

Jenny: Black coffee out of the coffee machine she hasn't cleaned in multiple years. She's convinced herself to like it.

Monty: Iced coffee

The Cat King: 5% coffee, 15% sugar, 80% cream

The Night Nurse: Cocaine off her desk during her fifteen minute lunch break.

[niefics]

Coffe shop — PSH & FEM!Y/N

Warnings : Cursing, fluff, smut, Reader is 22, sunghoon is 25, public sex, unprotected sex

Synopsis : F/N L/N started a summer job for extra money during their break at a coffee shop, and falls for their boss Sunghoon.

Word count : 2872, I’m so sorry this took me so long idk

— A tired groan leaves your body as you hear the noise of your alarm going off. Sitting up and turning it off to see what time it was. You fought going back to sleep, but you knew you had work that day.

You got up, walking into your bathroom and got into the shower trying to wake your tired self up. After getting out the shower you got ready for the day, getting ready in just enough time to get there on time.

“Good morning Y/N.” A deep calm voice said as you opened the door. “Morning, sunghoon.” You spoke to your boss. You were on the hunt for a job for a while especially for summer to save up for things that financial aid wouldn’t be paying for, you walked into the break room and put your stuff away grabbing a clean apron and wrapping it sound your figure. “So what year of collage are you in ?” He asked, trying to make casual conversation. “I’m going into my 3rd year sir.” You spoke. You normally keep your conversations very casual and work related, there’s really not a reason but you just chose to.

“Y/n, can you please set out those baked goods out on the display before the shop opens ? I made a new batch this morning.” He spoke you nodded, walking to the the case taking anything old out and throwing it away, cleaning it and everything. You added the new foods and and started working on making sure the floor was good before opening for the day. “Everything should be ready for the day to start, I’ll go open the door.” You spoke unlocking it, and going to the back of the counter setting up the register, and relaxing for a moment till costumers showed up.

After about 20 minutes, you hear a door open making you look up, you see a mom and her child walk in. “Hi, what can I get you this morning ?” You spoke giving them both a calm smile. “Uhm yes, can I get a hot chocolate, and a ice latte please ?” She spoke, she looked at her child one more time before saying that’s all with her order. “Can I get a cake pop ?” Her child asked. She nodded, and asked for one pink cake pop. You nodded, putting her order in and giving her the total, the price seemed bigger then what it normally was before you told her so you checked everything before realizing that the machine put 2 of everything down when you only did one. “Uhm one second please?” You spoke going to get your boss Sunghoon.

He was in the back on the computer ordering things the shop needed. “Sunghoon sir, the machine is glitching, do you think you could fix it please ?” He looked up at you lifting a brow, “What ? Why would the machine be down.” He spoke getting up and attending to the problem.

“Good morning!” He spoke to the customers before going to help you with the issue you had. “Ahh, I see the problem, Y/n you forgot to clear the amount on the cash register it’s glitching.” He spoke. “Just move to this one and I’ll redo your order okay? And we’ll make that cake pop free, since you had to wait on something we did wrong.” He spoke giving the child a smile. You pressed your lips together in frustration cleaning the cash register, and fixing the glitch.

You went and made their order swiftly and called it. “I’m so sorry for the wait!” You spoke giving them a smile. “No problem.” She gave a reassuring smile and left. Today was a pretty calm and slow day. It was break time, and so you decided to try and make yourself latte, since that’s one of the harder drinks for you. Sunghoon noticed and came over to help you. “I’ve noticed how hard it is for you to make lattes, can I give you some pointers?” He asked you, you nodded, since it was best to learn from your boss.

“Give my your hand, I’ll show you.” He spoke, it was 20 minutes before he had enough of watching you struggle realizing just telling you how wasn’t gonna work. He placed his chest firmly behind you, his calm scent engulfing you, “Watch and listen for me okay ?” He asked looking at you. You nodded shyly as he grabbed your hand and told you how to do things in such a calm tone. “Look at you, you’re doing so much better already y/n.” He spoke, the tone doing something to you. You tried to keep calm but the fact that he was so close made you week in the knees just thinking about it. “Okay, we’re finished.” He moved from behind you, the cool air of the coffee shop hitting you, making you kinda sad he moved. “Now with my help that way you did really well.” He spoke, you smiled about to speak before you heard the door open. “I’ll take these orders.” He spoke standing at the register.

— Closing shift has finally came, it was just you and him there, getting ready to close. You were counting the registers, making sure everything was all good whilst sunghoon mopped the floors and put the chairs up. To let the floor dry.

“So, how was your 2nd year in collage ?” He asked you breaking the silence. “Uhm, it stressful. I’m supposed to not have a roommate this year so I’m excited for the most part.” You spoke. “That’s good, I always wanted to go to collage.” He spoke, I looked up at him. “You’ve never went ?” You asked, and he nodded. “After high school, I started taking care of my friend coffee shop when she got sick, so there was no time for collage for me.” He spoke. You looked up at him, putting your hands down that were full of money onto the counter looking at him. “So.. if you don’t mind me-“ he cut me off quickly and in a calm dry tone spoke. “She passed last year.” His lips were pressed together as he mopped, the dimly litted coffee shop beaming on his face. The room felt a bit sadder now then before I asked. “Oh .. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have..” you spoke feeling extremely sorry for his lost. He stopped mopping putting the mop back in the bucket. “No.. no it’s fine, you can go home early if you like okay?” He spoke giving you a small smile. “You sure .. I mean the back is still a little messy, I don’t mind staying a little-“ he quickly shook his head. “Trust me it’s fine, I can handle it myself. Enjoy your off day tomorrow. I’ll have some new people working soon so please enjoy your day off.” He spoke, you sighed biting you lip finishing counting the money in the register, going back into the break room and changing out of the apron.

You got into you car driving off into the dark night, feeling bad about asking about his friend no knowing she was dead .. or sick enough to die.

Walking into your current living situation with your friend in their spare bedroom in your hometown till you moved back into your dorms. You went to bed tired from the day.

— As your off day went by it felt off, thinking about how close you and your boss where that day. The way he held your hands to guide you stirred something into you. You couldn’t deny how good looking he was, he was always so calm and understanding even when there were quite rude costumers. He had such a charming smile to you, and customers could definitely agree. Teenage girls making their rounds to the coffee shop during early mornings just to hope that he’d be able to make their coffee or give them their breakfast sandwiches.

You couldn’t deny how funny it was either, the way their expressions changed when they saw that he wasn’t there at that moment made you laugh. Snickering every time a disappointed look grew on their face when you popped up from the back to take their orders which was most of the time, you couldn’t deny those things made you day a little bit better.

There were even times where older women hit on him as he took their order, but somehow they always end up surprised that he’s just 26 it never to make you snicker once more.

You spent the majority of your off day sleeping in, and hanging with your friend on her off day too. Having casual conversations but random thoughts about your boss invaded your brain. Wondering how he made himself look so nice and presentable even when he spilt something. Or how soft his hands felt as he helped you with learning how to make lattes, it and much more thoughts .. but before you knew it. It was time to get ready to go to work the next day.

— The sight of new recruits didn’t fail to surprise you. “Oh I totally forgot we were getting recruits.” You spoke walking into the break room. “Yeah, and I need to ask you something too.” He spoke walking over to you giving you two enough space, for it to not be too close. Especially after the other day .. even though you wouldn’t mind it happening again, you softly hummed to him having a question, crossing your arms and resting your back on the entry way of the door. He moved a little he closer not too though, his hands in his apron pockets before speaking. “Can you help train the second trainee, he’s coming later today and I have something really important later.” He spoke, you looked at him your eyes big and dough like .. it was unintentional, but somehow stirred something in Sunghoon. “I’ll make it up to you later okay ? I’ll help you clean up during the closing shift so don’t worry.” He spoke at you in a way that made you feel some way, yes you found him extremely attractive but could this mean something more ? You shook your head yes kind of eager to find out what he would do to make it up later.

“Thank you, I’m sorry this came so sudden but trust me .. I will make this up to you okay?” He spoke moving a bit closer looking you deeply in your eyes making a promise. “Okay.” You spoke looking at him, watching him as he swiftly leaves to the front to help with the first new worker of the day.

You watched as he left, soon after he left the new recruit came as the other left as well. You help the new recruit with things teaching them how to make simple things and the basic training stuff that you learned. Soon the sun had set and as the coffee shop began to get read to close you got a text from Sunghoon. Your phone vibrating in your pocket.

“Send them home early, I’ll help you clean up.” He texted me, you liked the message shortly after telling the recruit to head home early. Watching them leave made you very anxious in a way, especially when you saw a car pull up in front of the door to see Sunghoon getting out. The door opened and closes soon after him locking in since it was well over closing. “Sorry traffic was busy.” He spoke, walking behind the counter stopping just in front of you. “Mm, how was the new recruit?” He asked, you looked at him still a bit nervous. “They were fine, was a fast learner so it wasn’t too stressful.” You spoke, “I already counted all the cash registers so we can just spend most of the closing time mopping and taking care of the back.” You said walking away from him to the back.

He followed for some reason wanting to talk more then usual. “Listen Y/n thank you for the help really.” He spoke, you turned around looking at him, his nice eyes looking at you, a small smile showed from you. “No problem, it’s the most I could do.” You spoke. He sighed glancing at the door leading to the front of the coffee shop before going in for a soft kiss, it was gentle yet passionate, your hands slowly grabbing his face as you kissed back. He pulled back looking down at you, noticing how cute you looked with your sudden surprised looked. Your look didn’t last long, grabbing his face pulling him in for more. His hands moved to your waist but not for long, he soon moved higher almost too your breast as it became deeper, but self control took over for him pulling back from the kiss, nothing but swollen lips and a string of saliva is left.

“I- I’m sorry .. I don’t want to do things like this, let me take you to dinner or something okay ?” You looked at him, your eyebrows scrunched. “Dinner ?” You repeated, hearing a soft hun from him, his eyes on you. “Mhm, we can clean up quickly and..” His sentence ended sooner then expected by another kiss by you. “I don’t think I can wait till after dinner.” You spoke after kissing him, taking his hand and following him to the break room. The change is demeanor definitely shocked sunghoon, you couldn’t deny you were surprised by yourself too.

— Your hands sat on the table as he kissed you deeply. You were sitting on one of the tables in the break room, legs parted due to Sunghoon taking up the space with his body. His hands shifted from the side of your to gently rubbing the inside of your thigh, inching his way closer to your clothes core. Gently rubbing it before quickly unbuttoning your pants. Finally breaking the longing kiss, breath heavy and lips swollen. “Can I ?” He asked looking at you with the purest eyes. You nodded as you tried to catch your breath.

He smirks attractively as he goes in kissing your neck softly, as his hand slid into your jeans rubbing your folds with his cold hands, you tilted your head back softly moaning until his hands moved causing you to softly whine unintentionally. You lifted your head as you looked down to see him pull down your pants and underwear leaving them on your ankles.

The sudden shift of positions surprised you, his slight manhandling of you, mad your arousal more prominent. You were now bent over the table him right behind you. He rubbed your core slowly with his tip causing you to gasp, the feeling of him slowly pushing into you made you want to cry from the pain. Missionary would’ve been the best position at this moment in time but the way he pestered you with soft kisses on you neck and cheek made you hold your pain back and finally he was in. “Are you okay ..?” He ask softly, you nodded giving him the green light to thrust.

The paste quickens at the same time as his hands squeezing your waist causing you to let out pornographic moans. Your pants surprisingly slipped off your ankles and foot causing sunghoon to noticing giving him the opportunity to make the pleasure so much better and his change to go deeper in you. He grabbed your thigh, roughly thrusting into you making his once quiet groans louder and the squelching noises sound more messy as his paste quickens again. “Fuck! Fuck .. you’re clenching like a fucking virgin.” He spoke, the first time you’ve ever heard him curse, you wanted to say something but but nothing came out but moans and pleads to slow down. “Wait- fuck .. slow down s-sung.. hoon.”

“Mm why? You were practically begging to be fucked, ditching my dinner dates to take my dick.” He spoke in a raspy tone, the change in act made you clench harder. “You’re so- so big..” you whined out causing sunghoon to smirk. “Can’t take my dick can you ? Wipe those pretty little tears and take it okay ?” Your vision became blurry as you felt him bully into you, you felt like you were seeing stars and the room was spinning and it felt like it all came to fast, you cried as you tiredly tried to get him to slow down.

Your hand hitting his abdomen, “I’m gonna cum- fuck!” His hand snaked around your waist as he rubbed your clit causing you to squint tightly as you came messily on him. You rode out your high feeling him get sloppy with his thrust soon pulling out, turning you over pulling you back on the table as he thrust back into you again. The fucked out look prominent as he kissed you one last time before quickly pulling out onto your stomach. You rested on your elbows as you tiredly tried to catch your breath, him leaving to grab a random clean towel cleaning you off.

“Let me take you to dinner, especially after all of this.” Dinner still on your mind. “What about cleaning the-“ “let’s worry about it tomorrow.”

[thosewickedlovelies]

it's where I belong

Summary: Rancher Boy!Javier Peña’s queer awakening

Tags: bisexual Javier Peña (although his identity is not explicitly stated); the bartender ships it; javier peña x OMC

Words: 1,937

Note: Title (and general inspo for this installment) is taken from the song Pink Pony Club by Chappell Roan. You don't have to read the rest of Rancher Boys for this to make sense, but you should bc it's great 😌 Happy pride :)

Masterlist

Once, Javier Peña walked into a bar in June.

It wasn’t that kind of bar. Or at least, he hadn’t thought it was. But looking around, he noticed a lot of people who seemed…sparkly, somehow. And affectionate. And there, on the back wall by the pool tables, hung a large, rainbow-striped flag, fluttering over the bricks.

“Can I get you anything?” A bartender appeared in his line of sight.

Javier tore his gaze from the flag.

“Whiskey, on the rocks.”

The bartender adjusted her cutoff flannel while the card machine booted up. It was tied beneath her chest, and the edges of a tattoo snaked along her ribs, the finer details blending into skin darker than Javi’s.

As Javi took out his card, he started, “Is this a…a bar for…”

Lord only knew what he thought he was trying to say. Thankfully, the bartender took pity on him. “A gay bar?”

“…Yeah.”

“Not explicitly. ‘We’re friendly to all’,” the woman quoted pointedly. She pushed a coaster toward him with that very declaration stamped beneath a depiction of a familiar sign. Friendly’s, read the green neon loops- the same as the ones above the door he’d entered through.

Ah.

“We just like to make sure everyone knows.” Her head tilted. “Is that a problem?”

“No,” Javier said.

After a beat, the bartender relaxed. “There’s not usually this much rainbow stuff in here. But we always go big for pride month.”

“Pride month?” Belatedly, Javi recalled the rainbow logos and merchandise that he’d noticed appearing over the past few days. Because it was…June? “Oh.”

The bartender had stepped back to dry some clean glasses. Now she smiled slightly, turning to face him. “You new in town?”

From a booth near the pool table, several voices rose in chorus with a soulful pop song playing from the speakers. Five sets of masculine shoulders swayed; they exhibited not a shred of self-consciousness. The bartender sent them a fond look.

“Temporarily. I’m here for a few weeks on business, with my pa.” Javi sipped his whiskey, the burn a warm, familiar comfort.

“Workin’ hard, then,” she deadpanned.

Before Javier could reply, her face softened, all her attention diverted to a second woman that had appeared beside him, leaning over the bar. Her black sequined top let out a spill of cleavage that Javi quickly averted his gaze from.

“Hola, mi amor,” the second woman cooed.

“Hola, nena.” The bartender set down her work and met the woman over the bar top with a lingering kiss.

“Puedo tomar una bebida? Tengo mucho sed,” the woman purred. Can I have a drink? I’m so thirsty. But it wasn’t any of the bottles behind the bar that claimed her attention. Her eyes danced up and down the bartender’s body, gleaming.  

She angled Javi a sharp, appraising glance. Javi met her gaze, then deliberately looked away, sipping his drink. Satisfied, she sat back on her stool.

The bartender, after extracting another kiss from the woman, brought her a glass of something clear and full of ice, and Javier listened to them talk. About their days, about their friend’s new cat, about what to have for dinner tomorrow. They sounded like every other couple Javier had ever known. They could have been Steve and Connie, if Steve and Connie knew anyone who would adopt a hairless cat or complained about gringos clogging up their favorite taco place.

Two of the men in the booth embraced when the song they’d been singing ended. One of their friends threw a fry at them, dramatically lamenting his own singlehood. Javi looked down and swirled the ice cube remaining in his glass, feeling simultaneously alone and strangely reluctant to leave.

The bartender reappeared in front of him. “Another whiskey?”

Clearing his throat, Javier straightened. “No, I shouldn’t. Thank you.” He made to stand and don his sunglasses

“Come back anytime. A lot of nice people come in this time of year.”

Javi gave a nod to her and then to her partner. The woman smiled in return, and Javier left the rainbow flags rippling behind him.

—

Twice, Javier Peña walked into a bar in June.

It wasn’t that kind of bar, but you wouldn’t know it looking around. The place was full of bubbly, happy people of every appearance on the gender spectrum, and some off the spectrum besides. Rainbow was too limited of a word to describe the variety of colors on flags.

All the same, it felt…relaxed. Homey. Pool balls cracked from a trio of tables. Too-big groups squashed into booths, giggling over knocked elbows and pressed-together thighs. Dancing broke out sporadically, the odd couple swaying alone or groups unable to resist the combination of the music playing and the contents of their glasses.

“Oye, whiskey boy!” The bartender Javi had met before popped up behind the counter in front of him. “Nice to see you again. The same on the rocks?”

Tonight she could have been mistaken for a college bartender, in a t-shirt snipped and tied to within an inch of its life. Glitter streaked her long black braids. Javier couldn’t help but wonder if her more feminine partner had had a hand in either statement. Tonight the bartender’s eyes were wide and bright, as if absorbing the energy in the bar and reflecting it back.

“Just a beer, thanks.”

Javi found a stool near the end of the bar, bottle in hand. He didn’t really have a plan of any kind. He could, technically, take someone back to his hotel room, but he didn’t relish the thought of his [pops] potentially seeing them leave tomorrow morning. He wasn’t in the market to make friends. His usual play was to nurse a few drinks while people-watching alone, but somehow that felt…wrong, here.

Or maybe it was Javier who was wrong. This place sure felt like a gay bar tonight, and he didn’t really have a place in one of those. Everyone else seemed to have friends and lovers and grins on their faces. What was he doing here, besides bringing the mood down with his brooding?

“You’re looking at that bottle like it’s about to break your heart.”

Javier looked up (and up, and up) at a man with desert-blond hair sticking out from under a Texas A&M ballcap. He was good-looking, Javi supposed, and dressed pretty normally if you didn’t count the sinfully tight fit of his shirt. He might have been one of few people in the bar besides Javi himself who didn’t have rhinestones somewhere on their person. Fine lines were just visible at the corners of his eyes, so it might have been his rangy build- or maybe the openness of his smile- that made him look young.

All of Javi's dependable wittiness seemed to have fled. His mouth quirked by muscle memory. “Nah, beer’s about the only thing that hasn’t broken my heart,” Javi tried.

The younger man laughed. “Can I get you another one, then?”

And so Javi allowed himself to be drawn into conversation with the man. Jason, his name was. The bartender gave him a friendly nod as she deposited their drinks- he must have been a regular here. It was nice, talking to someone- about himself, about Jason, about nothing at all. This kind of…companionship, however brief it would end up being, was something Javier hadn’t realized he’d been missing.

He relaxed into it. Into the comfortable, friendly atmosphere of the bar. Javi wasn’t blind. He saw the admiration in the younger (for he was indeed slightly younger) man’s eyes, heard the comments that tiptoed just this side of flirtatious. He didn’t discourage it. Why would he? It felt like it’d been a damn long time since Javier had been so enjoyed.

And he found himself enjoying Jason in return. There was a warmth, an awareness prickling in Javi’s chest that he recognized. It spread the longer they sat and talked, sparked in his fingers, the ends of his hair. It felt like…something loosening in him. Some knot unraveling that he hadn’t ever acknowledged was there.

As the night wound down, though- as their knees bumped and their laughter came warmer- Javier felt the knot drawing tighter again. He came to a decision. Quickly, gruffly, he confessed: he’d never done this before. He hadn’t set out find someone like this, didn’t want Jason to feel used- but Javi did want him. Had he mentioned that part?

As Javi half-stood from his stool, breathing hard, mouth dry, Jason’s look of surprise melted into something else. He placed his hand on Javi’s knee. Jason’s warm smile set fire to Javier, and the knot in his chest turned to ash and flaked away.  

—

There was more than one knot to his fears, Javier would discover. There was a whole web, intricately tangled and connected to subjects he would have never imagined. Some of the knots he picked at thoroughly, taking the time to smooth every kink (ahem) in their connecting cords. Some, he would realize, during the course of his research, were actually stupid, and these he excised without a second thought. Others, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to undo completely.

But that was for future-Javi to worry about. Present-Javi was tangled in much more pleasant things, like bedsheets and Jason’s unexpectedly strong arms. They spent many long, long nights together over the next few weeks. A few mornings, too, making Chucho raise his eyebrows upon seeing his son dash back through the hotel to shower, shirt buttoned askew and sweat still gleaming on his neck. 

It was a dizzying fling. But Jason was a good teacher, and Javi had never been one to shy from a challenge. By the end he’d have Jason flush-faced and gasping, making jokes like “my best student” and “Remind me to bring you a gold star next time”.

Javi didn’t remind him, of course, and Jason didn’t bring any gold stars.

He brought something else.

“I got you a present,” he said, and Javi did a double take.

“What?”

“I mean, it’s just a little thing, they sell them everywhere during pride month, and I just thought…” Jason shrugged, fidgeting bashfully, and held out his hand.

In it sat a small pin in the shape of a waving flag. Its rainbow stripes were unmistakable. Javi stared at it, his throat constricting. Slowly, he took it from Jason’s palm, the metal cool against his fingertips.

“You got me a pride pin.”

“You don’t have to wear it, or put it anywhere visible, obviously. I just thought…to remember me by. To remember yourself by.” Jason looked up from under his lashes then. Whatever else Javier took from their time together, Jason wanted him to remember the significant conversations they’d had.

Emotion swelled unexpectedly in Javier’s chest. He reached out, wrapped his fingers in Jason’s hair, and tugged him closer. Jason accepted his kiss with a sigh of pleasure, and they spent the next several minutes memorizing each other’s taste, the feel of their bodies pressed together, warm and firm.

Finally they parted, lips swollen, breath mingling. “Thank you,” Javier said, voice rough. “I’ll remember.”

He didn’t wear the pin. But he put it in his pocket, and it gave him a little jolt every time the edges poked him.

–

Their paths didn't cross again. But Javi takes the rainbow pin with him everywhere he travels, and on a ranch in Tennessee, he takes it out and studies it. He thinks of a man, and a woman, and another flag striped in red, blue, and black.

Thanks for reading :) ♥️♥️

Dividers by strangergraphics

[bestworstcase]

What do you think happens to the souls of Ozma's hosts? Like it it gone gone forever, or is Light Bro just keeping them on ice in his afterlife?

my pet theory

on the grounds that ozma always has someone else in his head and that person is always the host, or a facsimile of the host who is also a facsimile of himself because the curse blends them into one, and there has not been a single hint or implication that there is ever anyone else but two—meaning that he isn’t an amalgam, he’s one person who doesn’t feel like a person because he’s been forced into this parasitic existence and has no sense of self anymore—

is that ozma’s soul got split into two when the brothers were playing tug of war with his soul, and one half reincarnates tabula rasa and the other half remembers, and the god of light intervened to take advantage of/“fix” this situation by forcing them to recombine into one. but the problem is,

as penny demonstrates,

if you break someone’s soul into pieces you don’t end up with two defective half-people. you end up with two people. it doesn’t matter that penny’s soul used to be part of pietro’s soul, smashing them back together to erase her and make him ‘whole’ would be horrifying and painful for both of them. because they’re separate people now, existing independent of each other.

and if this is indeed what’s going on with ozma, then his experience suggests that merging penny and pietro back into one person by recombining their souls wouldn’t even be possible—they might become indistinguishable from each other, but there would still be two people in there.

and then the two halves separate again at the moment of death and are put back together.

NOW! you may be thinking that oscar being fourteen when ozpin died and ozpin reincarnating into him within a few months contradicts this theory. which yes it does. but i have a theory about THAT also

because

ozpin doesn’t seem to have anyone in his head (which might simply be for the sake of not tipping the hand, but there aren’t any moments that feel like switching or “ohhh, he’s conferring with his host” either),

there is a heavy implication that ozpin thinks the aura transfer machines will essentially inflict his curse on pyrrha and amber, thus implicitly associating the ATMs with the merge, and

reason dictates that the ATMs had to have been tested, and we know that they were more or less developed under ozpin’s auspices, despite his misgivings. the only ethical way to test these machines is on a willing volunteer.

willing volunteers like pietro. and also, i propose, like ozpin.

”you will never be alone.” this is a curse. he has not been alone even in his thoughts for thousands of years. ironwood broached the subject of a machine that can separate aura—separate the soul—from the body. ozpin has two souls fused into one. partial transfers are possible. how long were those machines in development? pietro looks quite a bit younger in the photograph. might it perhaps, possibly, have been fourteen or fifteen years ago when the first prototype was tested?

and well. ozma’s soul and the reincarnating soul know how to split apart. they do it all the time! they’re old hat at this! (pattern theory.) so it’s very easy and it’s a nice clean split and the reincarnating soul flies away to reincarnate like it always does, and oz gets about fourteen years of quiet for the first time in millennia. which he mostly uses to dissociate in peace.

[omegaremix]

Finds For 2018.

XXYYXX B-Sides

Odd Nosdam Trish

Goth-Trad “Air Breaker”

William S. Burroughs “Summer Will”

Girl Pusher “Better Off Alone” (live)

Liars “Staring At Zero”

Prayers “Edge Of The Blade”

Gary War “Don’t Go Out Tonight”

Pond “Colder Than Ice”

Contrepoison “Heartbeat”

Bad Zu “Motherfuckers”

Silent Servant “The Strange Attractor”

Peaches “Convincing People”

Deerhoof “Singalong Junk”

Ron Morelli “Radar Version”

Zola Jesus “Siphon”

Goth-Trad “Disorder”

Bad Zu “Queen”

Believer/Law “Foxhole Prayers”

Tame Impala Currents B-sides

Lust For Youth “Display”

Grizzly Bear “Mourning Sound”

Adult. “Dance Avoid”

Molly Nilsson “I Hope You Die”

Blvck Ceiling “Hello, Miracala”

Silent Servant “Self-Hypnosis”

Princess Century “Crummy Bones”

Uniform “The Lost”

Pharmakon “Transmission”

Grimes “Genesis” (Blvck Ceiling RMX)

Russell Haswell “Hardwax Flashback” (Powell RMX)

Ninos Du Brasil “A Magia Do Rei II”

Cults “I Took your Picture With My Eyes Closed”

Machine Girl “Freewill (Phase β)”

Silent Servant “Disassociation”

KVB, The “White Walls”

Moon Diagrams “Magic Killer”

Men, The “( )”

Sunn O))) “It Took The Night To Believe”

Ninos Du Brasil “Vagalumes Pirilampos”

Rezzett “Zootie”

Horrorist, The “Programmed” (Silent Servant RMX)

Silent Servant “Cut Unconscious”

Drvg Cvltvre “Waging A War Against God”

Believer/Law “Ashes”

Rainforest Spiritual Enslavement “Watery Grave”

Boy Harsher “Pain”

Brainbombs “Drive Around”

I Hate Models “Cyanure Dance”

Vatican Shadow “Weapons Inspection”

Stars Are Insane “I Stayed Up All Night Thinking Of You” (demo)

Kajun SS “Know Your Place”

James Clarke “Silent Summer”

Leon Gardner “Who Are You”

Frumpies, The “I Just Wanna’ Puke On The Stereo”

Raveonettes, The “I Wanna’ Be Adored”

Black Dice “Cowboy Soundcheck”

War On Women “Lone Wolves”

Sun Ra Nuits De La Fondation Maeght Vol. 1

Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass “Spanish Flea”

Buddy Rich The Bus Tapes

Ghost Spell self-titled

Digital Leather “Ruining Everything”

Black Boot 2013 demo

Plugz, The “Touch For Cash”

Deformity Shards

Ajax 2015 demo

Vinnie Paz “Cheesesteaks”

Robert Viger “Limpidite”

Stiv Bators “It’s Cold Outside”

Frigs “Solid State”

MF Doom & RZA “Books Of War”

Les Savvy Fav “Hold On To Your Genre”

Ros Sereysothea “Kon Komsot”

Blueblack “Branches Broke”

Pat Metheny “San Lorenzo”

Can “Vitamin C”

Versus The Stars Are Insane

Jedi Mind Tricks “Design In Malice”

Wolf Alice “Sad Boy”

World / Inferno Friendship Society The True Story Of The Bridgewater Astral League

Rezzett “Gremlinz”

Boy Harsher “Modulations”

Nick Cave “I’m Your Man”

Boards Of Canada “Orange Romeda”

Cabaret Voltaire Extended Play e.p.

Letlive “Day 54”

Kedr Livanskiy Ariadna

Jan Jelinek “Them, Their”

Thomas Leer “Saving Grace”

Killing Joke “Penny Drops”

Nails Abandon All Hope

Public Image Ltd. “Poptones”

Chris Norwood “The Norwood’s Prayer”

Puccio Roelens “A Silness Song”

Aby Ngana Diop Liital

Curses “Pedal To The Metal And Don’t Look Back”

Keiji Haino “See That My Grave Is Kept Clean” (acoustic)

Azymuth “Jazz Carnival”

Joanna Brouk “The Space Between”

Thomas Leer “All About You”

Viet Cong / Preoccupations “Disarray”

Lower Dens “Ondine”

Black Marble “A Great Design”

Hot Flash Heat Wave “Glo Ride”

Still Corners “The Photograph”

Odd Couple “What Kings Do”

Oldbills “Tablecloth”

System, The (UK) “Find It In Your Eyes”

Holydrug Couple, The “I’ll Only Say This”

Negative Gemini “Bad Baby”

Refreshers “How Bout U?”

Sam Smith “I’m Not The Only One”

Secret Circle “Tube Socks”

6lack “Prblms”

Spizzenergi “Soldier Soldier”

Basic Nature “Love Won’t Always Be There”

Camp Cope “Anna”

Dilly Dally “I Feel Free”

Eyedress f. Pyramid Vritra “1990”

Oldbills “Salsa Verde”

LaMont Jackson Aces

Uniform & The Body “In My Skin”

Water From Your Eyes “We’re Set Up”

Beat Detectives “Call It What You Want (Segment One)”

End Of A Year / Self Defense Family “Self-Immolation Family”

Lanark Artefax “Glasz”

No Age “You’re A Target”

Ice Age “Under The Sun”

Daughters “Satan In The Wait”

Nothing “Blue Line Baby”

Sean Price “STFU Pt. 2”

Tislatin Onzar 3=2+1

clipping. “Ends” (Xanopticon RMX)

Nothing “Zero Day”

Prison Religion “007”

Big Boss, The motion picture soundtrack “The Killing Fight”

Oldbills “Black Ice”

Cults “Gilded Lily”

Eyedress “High Street Drive”

Tanya Tagaq f. Shad “Centre”

Fall, The “Australians In Europe”

Pond “Sweep Me Off My Feet”

Uniform “The Walk”

BreakBeatBuddha “New Delhi Dank”

Ta-Ra “L’il Bit”

Xiu Xiu & Mitski “Between The Breaths”

Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever “Time In Common”

Sweet Valley “Sentimental Trash”

Wati Heru X Kashaka “BKWYA”

All These Fingers “Puerta Vallarta”

Body Without Organs “Osiris Rises”

Cults “Talk In Circles”

Miss Red “One Shot Killer”

Underworld & Iggy Pop “Bells And Circles”

Alt-J “Story 4 Sleeplessly Embracing” (clipping. RMX)

Moor Mother “Washington Park”

Erick Arc Elliott “Breaking”

Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever “An Air Conditioned Man”

Cansei De Ser Sexy “Girlfriend”

Choir Boy “Blood Moon”

Flastbush Zombies “The Results Are In”

Miss Red “Come Again”

Cold Cave New Moral Leadership

Prison Religion “Glass”

Diseno Corbusier “Ritmo 21”

Happy Meals / Free Love “Pushing Too Hard”

Jessica Rylan “Wishing Well”

Erick Arc Elliott “Fifteen Minutes”

Palm “Dog Milk”

Body, The “Sickly Heart Of Sand”

Oldbills “Weekendluv”

Ariana Grande “Into You”

Imagine Dragons “Thunder”

Moor Mother “Creation Myth”

Cellars “Real Good Day”

Addison Groove “Footcrab” (DJ Rashad & DJ Spinn RMX)

Charles Manson Lie

Water From Your Eyes “That’s The Girl”

Anti-Nowhere League “Snowman”

Bug, The f. Liz Harris “Black Wasp”

Eyedress f. Prefuse73 “Living Room”

Miss Red “Dagga”

Malcomb McLaren “Zulu’s On A Time Bomb”

Idles “Danny Nedelko”

Aube “Parametalizest Pt. II”

Menace Beach “Black Rainbow Sound”

Chvrches “Never Say Die”

Nine Inch Nails “The Background World”

Oh No “Banger”

Oneida “Whitey Fortress”

Ariana Grande “Moonlight”

Happy Meals / Free Love “July”

Curren$y f. The Game & Prodigy “The Type”

Casisdead “Leon Best”

Diseno Corbusier “Meta Metalic”

Malcomb McLaren “Soweto”

Nine Inch Nails Bad Witch

Jessica Rylan “Way Home”

Max G. Morton The Devil’s Music

Beat Detectives“(Undiscernable) Repetition Heavy Traffic: New NYC Vibe 2”

Origami Girl “After All These Years”

Killing Joke “Follow The Leaders”

Philippe Hallais “Hero / Fall / Angela”

wosX “Armageddon”

Ramadanman “Blimey”

Caroline K “Chearth”

Eomac “Don’t Fear Your Own Heart”

Rapid Tan “Dumbo”

End Of A Year / Self Defense Family “Indoor Wind Chimes”

Errors “Early Nights”

JK Flesh “External Transmission Stage”

Beths, The “Great No One”

Impalers “High Wired”

Glowing Palms “I Don’t Wanna Come Daaan”

Mean Girls “Summer Bodies”

Vatican Shadow “Tonight Saddam Walks Amidst Ruins”

Pasteur Lappe “Mbale (Face To Face With The Truth)”

Ash Pool “Cremation Is Irreversible”

Reptaliens “If You Want”

Rixe “Infatigables”

Teyas “Jamauba”

Serge Gainsbourg “Je T’aime Moi Non Plus”

Vatican Shadow “Jet Fumes Above The Reflecting Pool”

Powerflo “Less Than A Human”

Death In June “Little Black Angel”

Pop Group, The “(Amnesty Report II)

Erica Eso “Vaccination Free”

Fire Engines “(We Don’t Need This) Fascist Groove Thang” (Peel Session)

Heem Stogied X EyeDee X Tha God Fahim ”Drive By”

Young Fathers “Lord”

Kegcharge “Medal Of Honor”

Boy Harsher “Motion”

Badlands “Heavy Sighs”

La Secte Du Futur “Hundred Songs Of Love”

Jitwam “I Ain’t Scared Of No Devil”

Russell Haswell “Special Long Version” (demo)

Frankie Cosmos “Outside With The Cuties”

Illuminati Hotties “Pressed 2 Death”

Iceage “Catch It”

clipping. “Something They Don’t Know” (Bad Zu RMX)

Poison Idea “Right”

Sky Ferreira “Voices Carry” (demo)

Gnarcissists “We All Just Wanna’

Morbid Angel “Maze Of Torment” (RMX)

Subhumans “Mickey Mouse Is Dead” (live)

Plexi “Roller Rock Cam”

Joan Jett “Shout”

Jesu & Nothing & Prurient “Silver” (rehearsal)

Purling Hiss “My Dreams”

Brian Eno & Kevin Shields “Only Once Away My Son”

Bikini Cops “Midnight”

Council Estate Electronics “Type LK-60YA”

War On Drugs, The “Up All Night”

Council Estate Electronics “Urals”

Fellony “Whisper Song”

Death In June “13 Years Of Carrion”

Council Estate Electronics “60 Megawatts”

Holy Wave “Spooky Fuckin’ Blues”

Paris “The Days Of Old”

Intelligent Hoodlum / Tragedi Khadafi “Grand Groove”

Blackbyrds, The “Mysterious Vibes”

[gettingfrilly]

Can't get you out of my Ed

Chapter one of... 39 chapters lmao. This fic will kill me and I'll be damned if I don't take some of you down with me. Read it here or on ao3. Super mega thanks to @fish-bowl-2 for betaing and also for giving feedback on my massive outline.

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“Ppbbbbbbththtbbbhththtthhhhh.”

“Dude.”

“Dude yourself.” Eddy mutters, not caring if Kevin objects to his bored mouth noises. What else is he supposed to do? It’s Wednesday, five pm, and raining. No one's been in the candy store for hours, and ain’t no one gonna show up before they close at six. So he stands here bored out of his skull, full weight propped against the counter with his face squished in his hands, elbows velcroed to the permanently sticky wooden surface. He keeps his eyes where they’ve been glued for the last hour, which is directly on the nostalgic kitsch wall clock with plastic lollipops for hands and pounded sheet metal with a scene from some 50’s style soda shop superimposed on it for a face. It goes well with the completely non-functional jukebox in the corner, the rows of dusty, empty, retro soda bottles lining the shelves on the wall opposite the front door, and the 40 year old ice cream machine behind the counter that’s been out of order since last summer. Eddy had felt giddy when Kevin first got him a job here his freshman year, tickled by his younger self’s hypothetical jealousy over how easily he could pocket a jawbreaker here and there. The garish clashing of the puke green tiles and pastel pink walls had filled him with bittersweet memories of childhood, familiar and welcoming for a first time job.

Now he just finds the whole store ugly. 

“You could, ya know. Work.” Kevin suggests. “Clean something. Stock something. Anything other than standing there with your thumb up your ass.”

“Oh? And you can’t?” He asks while side eyeing Kevin, who is also currently standing around with his thumb up his ass. More specifically, he’s leaning backwards against the displays behind the counter, wide shoulders slouched as his arms dangle at his sides. The clean hairline of his crew cut frames his wide, blocky face with sharp angles. He’s been made up of solid, sturdy shapes since he started playing for the varsity team in his junior year, and his workout regimen has further defined his muscles in the years since. Eddy wouldn’t exactly describe him as beefy, but his build is athletic for sure. He’s also classically handsome, Eddy begrudgingly admits to himself, though he’s not really his type. Too much of a normie for his tastes, with his basic sense of style and outfit compiled of store brand athletic wear. Guy shops at Old Navy for sure. Well, more like his mom shops for him there.

“I’m the boss. I’ve got underlings to do that kind of stuff for me.” An annoyingly smug smile graces his shovel shaped chin, and Eddy can’t help but grind his teeth.

“For your information, bossman, ” he hisses the title, “shelves: dusted. Floors: mopped. Inventory: stocked. Windows: windexed. Hell, I even ordered the lollipops by color out of fucking boredom. There is truly not a single thing left to do.”

Kevin hums and scratches his ten acre chin. “Oh. Well. Pbth.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

‘ Come now, with your cleaning skills, surely you left something amiss. Did you wipe down the floor trim? Deep clean the register? I see plenty of snack crumbs wedged between those sticky keys. And you didn’t even mention the employee bathroom, for heaven’s sake. ’

“Shut up.” He mumbles under his breath. “Huh?”

“Nothing. Hey, how’s Nazz doing?” Kevin’s and Nazz’s shaky relationship isn’t exactly his favorite can of worms to open, but he’s starting to get bored enough to peel his eyelids off of his face, so he better strike up some kind of conversation. 

“ Man- ” Yup, here we go, “I don’t get what’s up with her. Ever since she moved to Buffalo she’s been acting all different and weird. Dunno what happened to the Nazz we used to know.”

‘ She grew up. Which is something you may want to look into yourself, Kevin. 19 years old and no interest in pursuing a higher education or a greater calling like our dear Nazz has. Tut tut.’

“Yeah, it’s almost like she cares about shit now or something.”

“Exactly,” Kevin bemoans, completely missing Eddy’s sardonic tone. “I don’t get all the polisci stuff she talks about. I’m just not a political guy, ya know? Why can’t things just go back to being simple between us? College wrecks people, man.”

On one hand, even Eddy can tell Kevin’s being pig-headed about this. On the other hand, he can relate on a very painful, squishy, sore, and tender level.

‘Well you are quite pig-headed yourself.’

“She just outgrew this small town shit. We all should. I know I’m getting out of here as soon as I graduate.”

“Speak for yourself. I like it here.” Kevin mutters while crossing his arms petulantly.

“Of course you do, mister former high school quarterback nepo baby. You already got shit made here. Doesn’t your dad own the candy factory now?”

“Vice president. But yeah, he’ll own it soon. And he’s thinking of expanding. But what are you complaining about? Aren’t you all set up to inherit your old man’s dealership? That place makes decent dosh.”

“I’d rather eat nails.” The words come grinding out of his mouth as if it were already full of sharp, pointy metal.

“What? No way, man, you used to brag about that place all the time. Said it was your legacy and that you were gonna make it the hottest place in the county to get a used car.”

“Times change.” That’s the only explanation he’s willing to offer.

Kevin just shrugs, much to Eddy’s gratitude. That’s probably the best thing about being friends with Kevin; guy doesn’t ask questions. Makes him a solid person to vent to.

‘Especially if you’re allergic to discussing your feelings.’

With a long suffering groan, Eddy literally peels himself off of the old counter to do another useless perimeter search of the shop. He knows he still won’t find anything to do, but at least it’ll get his body moving. His sneakers squeak against the freshly mopped floors (so bored he even got out the mop, for chrissake…) as he eyes the displays, watching his reflection warp and transform from one glass container to the next, an endless hall of funhouse mirrors mocking him with his own boredom, irritation, and overall misery. His fault for scrubbing them all until they were spotless. The hole punched cardboard pallet that holds a variety of different brands of lollipops is just as hue spectrum oriented as he left it, so this time he goes for ordering them by size and shape instead. Well, that killed two minutes. Walk by the freezers, rearrange  some mismatched soda bottles he missed before. 30 seconds. Scrape a fleck of taffy off of one of the sliding door handles. 20 seconds. Stare at the wall for five seconds. Bang his head against it. Another second. Bang. Another second. Bang. Another second. Bang.

“I’m taking a smoke break!” He calls loudly over the shelves in the direction of the front counter, not waiting for Kevin to respond before frantically scrambling towards the backroom. He nearly trips over a broom as he bursts into the cramped space, swearing at it uselessly as he stumbles over to his locker. It gets jammed as usual, the damn thing, Eddy jiggling the handle with a growl before he finally tears it open. The hood of his windbreaker catches on one of the locker’s internal hooks, causing Eddy to shout obscenities until he finally shakes it loose and shoves his arms into the sleeves. He stomps towards the back door and bumps it open with his hip as he wrestles with the zipper, getting himself encased once he steps outside into the muggy July evening air.

The door slams shut behind him as he huddles under the small overhang of the dirty green awning adorned above the back door, fishing his pack of camel menthols out of the pocket of his windbreaker. The hush of rain against the pavement and rhythmic pounding of droplets plunking against the rusty metal of the awning harmonize well together, creating a nice soundscape to back up the click click click of his lighter. He mutters swears under his breath like a prayer, internally praising glory hallelujah once the cig balanced between his lips lights and he can breath in deep and slow, the mint flavoring tickling his nose hairs and soothing the burn of hot smoke in his windpipe. Smoke billows from his mouth and nose after he’s held in his lungful for as long as he can, his exhale audible and pointed heavenward, smoke catching and lingering on the underside of the sheet metal above. 

‘Those will kill you.’

“The sooner the better.” Eddy mumbles, letting gravity pull his loosening body down against the wooden door behind him, desperate for a paint job. He takes another grateful drag as he watches the rain bounce and slide off of trashbags, forming muddied puddles in the potholes below. The hit of nicotine puts a fuzzy blanket over the constantly firing nerve endings in his brain, making his eyes droop as he fights back a yawn. Double D doesn’t know what he’s talking about, calling nicotine a stimulant. Smokes practically put him to sleep. 

He sneers down at the ground. What’s he got to even do these days other than work, smoke, sleep, repeat? The only thing he has to look forward to are the occasional phone calls he makes to Ed at the military school his shithead mom shipped him off to last summer before they all started their junior year. Double D and Ed were inconsolable that day, clinging to each other and sobbing as Ed’s dad silently packed his red commodore with sparse necessities, the rest of Ed’s belongings in boxes marked for the salvation army. The memory still makes Eddy’s eyes burn, the same way they did that day as he blinked to hold back his tears, repeating to the other two that they’d call, they’d write, they’d visit, and once senior year was done in two years, the three of them would be out of here. Double D would definitely get accepted to some fancy shmancy school on a fancy shmancy scholarship, and the two of them would follow along, working whatever jobs available so that their combined income with Double D’s scholarship funds could net them a nice apartment in whatever fancy shmancy city Double D went to for school. They’d be free of this pimple on the map of America called Peach Creek, free from their families, free from public school, free to be themselves. There’d be a queer scene, he told Double D. They’d be accepted there, he told him. It wouldn’t be like it is out here in the boonies. They wouldn’t have to hide.

Well, his plan may have less people in it now, but he’s sticking to it. He can’t stand the boredom anymore, can’t stand the confinement. If he spends one more summer afternoon staring at his bedroom ceiling, has one more shift during the dead hours of the candy store, has to give his dad one more excuse as to why he’s not dating anyone now that he’s got a paycheck, he’s going to burst out of his own skin like some kind of insectoid, brain sucking monster from one of Ed’s B-rated black and white horror flicks and suck the noggins of everyone in a five mile radius. He’ll get out of this shithole come hell or high water. He has to get out.

‘And go where, exactly?’

‘Anywhere but here.’

‘To do what?’

‘Live. Breathe. Stretch out and run around and scream and cry and shout and kick and hit and go and go and go.’

‘With who?’

‘Ed. Or no one. Who cares.’

‘You’d be alone.’

‘I’ve always been alone.’

‘That’s not true. You know that’s not true.’

Water streams from the corners of the awning, creating a puddle dangerously close to his Air Force 1s. An errant raindrop lands right on top of the toe of his left sneaker, and he grumbles as he bends over to swipe it away, cursing himself for not looking at the weather report before putting these on. He curses louder when a chunk of ash falls from his cig and takes up residence where the water droplet just vacated, grabbing it from his mouth to hold it out to the side as he frantically brushes off his shoe.

‘Please, Eddy, be careful! Think of how much money your mother spent on such a frivolous purchase.’

Eddy snarls, sick to death of this incessant nagging. “Just shut uuUGHH!”

The smack of the wooden door against his ass throws him completely off balance, staring down at his shoes one second then catching himself on his hands and gazing at a puddle inches from his face the next. Adrenaline rushes through his body, making his lungs seize up and his eyes go wide, the rain falling on the back of his head feeling far colder than it should be on a warm July evening. He keeps himself propped up on one hand as he swivels around to identify his attacker, blinking owlishly when he sees Kevin standing in the lit doorway, giving Eddy the same, wide eyed look.

“Dude. You okay?”

Anger quickly intermingles with his gut-dropping fear, gritting his teeth as he pushes himself back onto his feet. “Watch where you’re going, shovel chin!”

Kevin places one hand on his hip while he holds the door open with the other, expression blasé. “Doors are for opening, man. Anyway, we’re closing up. Just wasting money at this point.”

He finally catches his breath, raising his cigarette to take another calming drag, only to feel something unpleasantly cold and soggy touching his lips. Damn it. His hand must have landed in a puddle. He groans and pushes his now wet hair out of his face.

“These ain’t fucking cheap.” He grumbles, flicking the unlit stub to the ground.

“Did you even hear me, man?”

“Huh? Oh.” Calmer and less distracted now, his brain finally catches up with what Kevin said. “Yeah, great idea, bossman!” The title is used in a much more jolly manner than before, giving Kevin a pat on the back and leaving a stubby, wet handprint behind as he pushes past him and back into the backroom to grab the rest of his stuff. He kicks off his nice sneakers to trade them for the ratty back ups he keeps in his locker, stepping into the worn pair as he puts his multi-colored Nikes into his water proof backpack for safe keeping.

Kevin sneers and murmurs something Eddy is sure was insulting as he looks behind himself and at the back of his shirt. “I’ve got to count money and lock up if you wanna stick around to help-”

Eddy’s locker slams abruptly, echoing loudly in the small space as he slings his drawstring bag over his shoulders and puts his hood up in quick, jerky motions. “Bye, seeya later, hasta la vista, sayonara, annyeong.” He half-jogs out of the back room before finishing his goodbyes, ignoring Kevin’s jeering as he slips through the door to the front room. He continues his half jog past the candy displays, snagging a jawbreaker and shoving it into his pocket next to his smokes before heading out the door and back out into the rain.

He breathes in a deep breath of freedom as he stretches his arms out to his sides and then over his head, making his way back to the cul de sac with a skip in his step. The world is his oyster now that he’s off of work. Now he can… he can… well.

The skip turns into a slow trudge as Eddy remembers he doesn’t actually have anything post work to look forward to, mood sinking further and further with each dark and empty store he passes by. Looks like Kevin wasn’t the only one who decided to close up early; all of downtown is dead. And it’s just not the cafe, the butcher shop, and the shoe store that are dark. It’s too early for the street lights to come on, but the sky is thick with heavy rain clouds, keeping the sunlight prisoner behind the bubbling veil of black and gray. His eyes turn down to the wet cement of the sidewalk with its divots and potholes, floating cigarette butts in the puddles that formed within them, scowling at his feet as they pointlessly move beneath him. What’s he even going home to? Another evening zoning out in front of the TV? Maybe lying upside down on his bed and listening to saccharine sweet slow dance songs? Then whatever he does will just be followed by chain smoking in the backyard until he’s tired enough to pass out as soon as his head hits the pillow, welcoming oblivion as an alternative to being left alone with his thoughts. It’s the same damn thing every day. And it’ll keep being the same damn thing every day until he gets out of here or dies. Dying may be the more convenient option at this point. It’d be a lot easier than having to finish high school before he beats it. All he has to do is wait for a car to come by and then jump out in front of it.

But no cars come. No one coming, no one leaving, a town stuck in stasis, the white noise enough to deafen him. His shoes are getting soaked. He’s gonna get cold feet.

Christ, he needs to quiet his fucking mind before he ends up as roadkill. He reaches into his pocket, fingertips brushing against the cool metal of his lighter before he finds his pack of camels, grasping onto it like a lifeline. He takes out the light with it, shaking a cig loose from the pack and into his waiting hand. He balances it between his pointer and middle finger, bringing it up to press it between his lips and under his hood so he can attempt to light it-

Only to immediately pull his hand away when he tastes blood on his tongue.

“The fuck?” He squeaks out, high pitched and startled. He looks at the cig and finds fresh red blood smeared on the paper and filter, but that’s not what’s most alarming; what has him wince and hiss under his breath is the sight of his hand, dark, slimy globules clotted together in the center with dried and flaky trails of blood running down between his fingers, some of it gathered under his nails, in his nail beds, and around the gold band on his ring finger. Rain splashes down into his open palm, the droplets saturating themselves with blood before they roll down the sides of Eddy’s hand and down his wrist, leaving trails of pink behind. He swipes his thumb gingerly over his palm and squints, scowl deepening when he discovers the cut beneath, small but deep. 

Damn it. Must have happened when he fell. Probably glass from a broken bottle. How did he not feel it? Stupid Kevin. Stupid door. He clicks his tongue and keeps walking, placing the cig back between his lips; he’s not gonna waste another one of these. It brings him minimal relief once it’s lit, his frayed nerves further agitated by the site, smell, and taste of his own blood. He’s had e-fucking-nough of that for one life time. Thankfully the shops start to become far and few between, with residential houses looming on the horizon. He’ll walk in through the back door to his room before his mom gets a chance to see his hand and starts freaking out. He’ll clean his hand, dry off his feet, and get out of this fucking rain. That’s something to sort of look forward to. Isn’t it?

When he turns the corner of rethink avenue several minutes later, all thoughts of the creature comforts of home disperse like a warren of rabbits intruded on by a fox. His cig, burned down to a stub at this point, dangles from his parted lips, eyes frozen on the looming portend of the past come to haunt him currently parked in his own fucking driveway. He’s freezing suddenly, all heat sapped out of him like someone pulled the plug, lungs becoming a vacuum as cosmic background radiation burns within them, singed by his only source of heat. It’s like he’s falling again, shoved from behind and just barely managing to protect his face from scraping the pavement. An unknown attacker from behind, the familiar sound of him breathing through his teeth.

He tastes blood on his tongue.

The cigarette butt falls from his lips as he turns away from the sight of the whale shaped trailer in front of his house, breaking out into a jog to the only other house he can think to go to, nestled right on the corner he just turned. His bedroom lights are on. His parents, as usual, aren’t home. He misses him with an ache deeper than anything else he’s felt in a long time.

He hopes Double D actually lets him in.

[cataclyisms]

In between the empty spaces, she sees him.

It’s not nearly as sentimental as it seems. He is, after all, the only figure at the bar, the seats parallel to him vacant on purpose. The way his back is arched reminds her of a wounded animal, spine bent with the weight of survival.  It’s a reminder of him at the wake; all that bark and that bite and that break. She remembers thinking that there is nothing romantic about that particular grief. The type that’s self-inflicted, a two-way knife.

And now he’s here alone. He’d kill her if she said it, but she feels fucking bad. Where they come from, they gut feelings out of you like the insides of fruit and polish the empty until it gleams. Then they look at you funny when you bleed anyway. Making machines out of men: an imperfect process. She would know; her dad had never managed it with her.

Back to the boy:

There’s probably a wealth of literature out there about how you’re not supposed to confront ticking time bombs, but to be honest she’s not big on the whole reading thing. So she goes off pure instinct: open hands, open face as she slides onto the seat on his right with ease, the ice in her glass tinkling from the maneuver. Let the change in atmosphere settle into the silence. Half of her feels whatever is just before regret — and the friends she’d left behind at their private table would swiftly agree — but she’s not in the mood for second guessing. Never been the type. So, okay, think: here she is next to a crouching tiger, and all she’s got for armor is her mom’s old Gaultier.

Light work.

“Let me guess — whiskey neat?” Airy tone to match a similarly carefree expression; from her point of view the glass is drunk clean, so really it’s a shot in the dark. “You kind of seem like the type. That or like, a martini. Bond style.” And then a big old smile, to set the mood. “Whatever it is, want another one? My treat.”

RED LIGHT — @silenthowls