#the storage unit would still have been a problem

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

boy i really wish i’d sucked it up and moved to texas in the summer of 2021 when i bought a car and only owned stuff that fit in the car

[tossawary]

It's funny to think about a scenario in which Luke manages to get Yoda off Dagobah and bring him back to the Rebellion. Maybe Obi-Wan left a message with R2 as a backup plan or something, so Luke got the message much earlier. Yoda is still too old and injured to fight, but he can train Luke while moving around as the Rebellion's new grandpa (and potentially reunite with characters like Ahsoka and Kanan and Cal and so on).

This AU is important to me because how it would look from an Outsider's POV:

"Uhhh, Luke," Han said. "What's that?"

"What's what?" Luke said, turning to look across the hangar bay. "Oh. That's Master Yoda. I went to Dagobah to get him, remember?"

Han studied the small, green, vaguely amphibious creature with long pointy ears and wisps of white hair, crouched underneath Luke's X-Wing and steadily eating its way though a bucket of... what the hell were those things? Eggs?

"That's your great Master Yoda?" Han said dubiously. He couldn't have helped it, so he didn't even try not to sound skeptical. "The one who's going to train you and Her Royal Highness in this... uh... penetrating life field magic?"

Those ragged brown blankets that it seemed to be wearing looked not unlike the dusty robes that Luke's old man had been shuffling around in, before getting killed back on the Death Star. Maybe.

"He's the wisest and most powerful Jedi Master alive," Luke said, like he was determined to be upbeat about it. "He's 900 years old. He said."

Han watched the creature dig around in the bucket some more, nearly sticking the entire upper half of its body inside. Its long ears wilted when it came up empty. It sat back with a loud, high-pitched harrumph and its wrinkled face scrunched up like a fruit rotting all at once.

"Yeah," Han said. "He looks it."

Luke shot him a betrayed look and Han just shrugged. He didn't have a problem with the kid and the princess finding some comfort in some hokey old religion. The kid's family had apparently been killed by troopers the day that Han had met him and Leia had watched her entire planet be destroyed, so whatever touchy-feely nonsense helped them deal with that helped.

But that didn't mean that Han wasn't going to call it like he saw it- "Uh, kid, is that your storage unit he's searching now?"

Luke groaned and put his head in his hands. "I left some ration bars in there, I think. I bet he can smell them."

This great Jedi Master was making a real mess of it. He threw one of Luke's things over his shoulder, where the tool hit R2-D2, and the small droid immediately let out a shocked series of beeps and chirps. The outraged blare when the droid traced the missile back to Yoda was even louder.

Han watched as the droid whirred briskly up to Yoda, then reached out with an extended grabber and yanked at the old Jedi's stick. Yoda shrieked in surprise. A tug-o-war started, which looked like it was going to have one or both of them falling over.

"Oh, no," Luke said.

People around the hangar bay were starting to stare. Han couldn't look away.

The droid released the wooden stick and Yoda let out a cry of triumph. Which turned into a yelp of pain, because R2-D2 had just zapped him with another extended tool, which crackled like a threat that the droid would do it again. Yoda's response was to smack the droid with his stick, repeatedly, grunting with the effort - and the loud clanging caught the attention of everyone who hadn't already been looking.

"You gonna, uh, you gonna do something about that?" Han said to the kid.

Luke sighed heavily, which definitely meant that this wasn't the first time something like this had happened. He stood up and waded into the mess, catching the stick with one hand and physically pushing the droid back with the other, ordering the old astromech and older Jedi Master to knock it off. He sounded just like a parent about to hand out some punishments.

R2-D2 beeped petulantly at Luke.

"I don't care who started it!" Luke said, his exasperation carrying. "This time or last time-! Ow!"

The great Jedi Master had just smacked Luke in the shin with that stick. Luke hopped on one foot for a few seconds, biting down on what probably would have been some nasty Huttese cursing. Yoda harrumphed again and then lurched back over towards his empty egg bucket.

R2-D2 made a sound that Han had, whether he liked it or not, already come to recognize meant: "I told you so."

"Oh, fuck off," Luke snapped.

Han threw back his head and laughed.

[ihavetoomanyocsdealwithit]

Moments the boys fall in love with Yuu  

Romantic or platonic, mostly fluff, a little angst with comfort  

Ruggie Bucci, Jack Howl, Deuce Spade, Ace Trappola, Rook Hunt  

Ruggie Bucci

Yuu had been helping Crowley with all sorts of paperwork this year, as she had taken on the apprenticeship under him for education. She was already doing most of it anyway, might as well get paid for it right? But it gave her access to a lot of information other people don’t.  

So when she found the grant and looked at the details, she knew she at least had to offer it.  

Yuu knows better than to pull Ruggie out of class, he hides it well, but it pisses him off. He can’t afford to get anymore behind than he already is compared to these rich bastards. So, she slips a note to the teacher to give to him to arrange a meeting in the next few days.  

It ends up being over dinner at Ramshackle a few days later, after a late shift at the Monstro Lounge, that she finally gets to talk to him.  

“So, you can tell me off, but I ain’t doing it out of pity or nothing,” she starts, pulling out a stack of papers. He cocks his head, starting to skim over the complex and small text. “Long story short, it’s a grant for schools under a certain income bracket to receive additional help, including a three-meal program. If you can convince instructors to continue using the building over breaks, you can even continue with meal program during the breaks so that the food comes around all year, all shipped in and paid for on the governments dime. It lasts around 5 years.”  

Ruggie’s ears are flat against his head, flipping through the pages. She gets the impression that he would have set his plate down if she hadn’t waited until he had scraped the pot clean.  

“NRC obviously makes too much in donations alone,” especially from the royal families, no nepotism rules her ass, “but if you could give me some more details about your place, I might be able to-” 

“Set up an actual school.”  

That makes her pause. There wasn’t...no.  

“I know you said that you learned from the hard knock school of life but...there’s nothing?” she asked. 

“Naw. So, this grant would guarantee that a school could stay and that the kids might actually attend, especially with the promise of food.”  

“Well, I’ll need to find the forms for that, but I'm sure it's doable, especially if I can make a good case. It was pretty buried in there, so I don’t think I’d have to try too hard, I don’t imagine a lot of folks even know about it.”  

He squints his eyes at her, leaning back in his seat.  

“What do you get out of this?” he asks, folding his arms, “You don’t know my home. You don’t know my people.”  

“No, but I know you love them and you work hard for them every day.” She gestures to the apron folded over the chair. “And if you do, I will choose to. Besides, you and I both know these rich bastards have no problem taking our taxes and doing stupid shit with it. Might as well take it back and apply it where it needs to be.”  

He huffs, covering his mouth as it turns to a full cackle as he curls in. He might have said something in between his laughs? She can’t tell, but he’s cheeks are ruddy and glowing when he finally collects himself.  

“Alright Prefect, what details do you need?”  

Jack Howl

There were lots of places boarded off at Ramshackle that Yuu was still exploring. Finding a sunroom was the last thing she thought Ramshackle Dorm might have, but after sweeping and cleaning the place, it’s charming. Open windows, dark frames lining the three out of four walls, and the furniture actually isn’t too bad, just needing a wipe down and some wood oil to make it shine again. The fact that Ramshackle was also being used as an oversized storage unit helps since it has upholstery, furniture and fabrics for repairs for every dorm that she can really make the place shine.  

She knows that Riddle and the boys would love to decorate in Heartslabyul colors, line rose boxes and vines and lilies in the hanging baskets, but she has a better idea.  

“Hey, Jack!” She calls out after track practice. He raises a hand at her, giving his body a light shake to get rid of the soreness in his muscles. “Do you have any succulent or cactus cuttings you could spare?” 

His ears narrowed in straight on her, standing a bit straighter.  

“Ah, yea...I could have some sent from home too.”    

“Is this about the sunroom?” Deuce asked. “We could have some rose bushes sent in from Heartslabyul too. Riddle would be ecstatic to have the Queen’s roses out.”  

“No offense to Riddle or Heartslabyul,” Yuu rubbed the back of her neck, “But there are roses everywhere. Queen Heart’s Roses, Fairest Roses, Thorn Fairy Roses, you get the idea. Besides, I like plants that are heartier and don’t require alot of tending too. Just free to do their own thing.”  

The only reason Jack’s tail wasn’t wagging is because he was holding it. Deuce snickered behind his back, cackling as he avoided the swat at his head.  

“Let me bring what I have at the dorms right now. Besides, it’ll be nice for my dormmates to not be able to mess with it at least some of them.”  

Jack wasn’t able to bring anything big with him when he came to NRC, but the cuttings would grow quickly. The fact that his Mom paid for some of the bigger ones to be sent carefully through the mirrors helped fill out the space, and Leona donated some of the ferns and larger faunas when Ruggie mentioned it. It was in exchange for having a daybed in there so he could nap whenever he wanted, but it was a small sacrifice.  

By the time they finished putting the room together, including sewing together some pillows in Savannaclaw colors and tightening a few screws on the benches and chairs, it looked like a slice of his dorm. Mainly yellows and oranges, with the soft greens of the succulents and more saturated green of the cactus to accent it all. His cactuses were clearly the center point though, blooming like nothing else.  

His Mom had also taken the opportunity to send Yuu a few old clothes that his sister no longer fit in, warm sweaters and shirts that were very much in the style of home. Jack hadn’t known until they started unpacking the box, but Yuu had loved them and he couldn’t find it within himself to be too upset. Afterall, Yuu didn’t have much to begin with, and he knows that fall will be coming in soon.  

When he comes in a few days later He sees her curled up on a chair with her study materials. The tap of her pen against her lip, the smell of heat and fauna thick in the air, snuggled into an old hoodie of his, he can’t even blame his heart for skipping a beat.  

It’s only natural, he tells himself. Instinct even. He doesn’t have to think too hard about it.  

“Why’s your tail wagging?” Yuu asks, pointing to his back.  

“No reason!” he barks, ignoring the way he’s heart does it again as she cackles.  

Only natural.  

Deuce Spade

Deuce would tell you that he’s not the smartest guy in the room. He knows that academically he struggles, and even sometimes with common sense. There’s a lot of things that he never learned or forgot because he made some stupid shitty decisions in his past.  

Maybe that’s why he prefers studying with Yuu one on one instead of a group. Yuu is having to teach herself the basics too, history, spell work, math, literature, they aren’t exactly on the same page, but they are closer than he would prefer to admit.  

Riddle, bless him and his tenacious ways, kept his notes from all his grades. It’s binders and binders worth of material and even if they are slow at it, Riddle never says anything about how long the binder is gone from his bookshelf. He simply continues to offer help.  

Yuu gets the idea after she sees Riddle’s magicam and puts 2 and 2 together with Cater’s exam results.  

So, the next time they get together, she takes him to a side room where a broken radio is.  

“What’s this?” He asks, looking at the tools set off to the side.  

“I have an idea,” Yuu says, sitting on the floor. “I’m going to quiz you while you fix the radio.”  

“Huh?”  

“I have an idea, I think it’ll help, I just need you to trust me.”  

He shrugs his shoulders, rolls up his sleeves and starts answering questions as he pulls the panel off. The quiz is tomorrow and anything is better than nothing at this point.  

Professor Trein smiles at him a bit as he passes the quizzes back at the end of the period.  

“Well done Mr. Spade. Your studying is paying off well.”  

83. He had gotten an 83.  

“Dude!” Yuu jumps on his back, hugging him, “Awesome! It worked!”  

He knows the blush on his face isn’t pride or joy. Neither is the goofy grin. But if that’s what Yuu thinks when she sees it, she doesn’t need to know.  

If they dance together with that fixed radio and his hands linger a little too long on her hips or waist, he doesn’t think too hard on that either.  

He isn’t a very smart man, but he knows he is a happy one.

 

Ace Trappola

Ace will admit that he’s an asshole sometimes. He is self-aware enough and selfish enough to not care. But he isn’t a complete asshole, and really, he’s just preventing you from being stuck with another Overblot like what happened on Winter Break!  

That was the only reason he invited Yuu over. No other reasons.  

He of course does the polite thing and introduces you to this family, including his brother. He doesn’t dislike his brother, he’s actually pretty cool, but he’s aware that he is cooler than Ace. And smarter. And more handsome.  

He isn’t purposefully keeping Yuu away from him, but if it so happens that every time his brother is home that you two are out doing things, that’s just a weird coincidence.  

It’s sunset on the last day, and his family insisted on a cookout all together. They like Yuu a lot, and for the most part try and keep him out of trouble. Which meant lots of talking, family telling stories and comparing between the two of them, like they always do. It isn’t malicious, he knows that, but it hurts sometimes when his brother has a seven-year head start. It’s winding down now though, with his parents and brother going to bed already for work in the morning. They should have been, the train leaves early the next morning, but neither of them can sleep, so they are trying to wind down with cards. Ace always has a pack on him, but in his room he has multiple. He’s even nice enough to let Yuu pick the deck she wants.  

“You ready for tomorrow?” she asks, laying a card down.  

“Totally. I love my folks but being here just makes me itch to leave again.” he makes a pair, chuckling at her huff, “Besides my brother is...well he’s my brother, you know.”  

“I mean, he’s ok, but I much prefer hanging out with you.”  

It’s such a small thing that it shouldn’t matter. It shouldn’t. But damn if he’s face doesn’t twitch into a genuine smile. Prefers him. Yuu prefers him.  

“Ah, you gotta crush on me?” He teases, poking her cheek, “You got something you want to tell me?”  

“Oh, fuck off.” She snips, kicking his foot, “You got an ego that makes Vil look humble.”  

He can only laugh, muffling his delight into a pillow. He tucks the memory away with a breath, making another pair.

 

Rook Hunt

The gardens of Pomefiore aren’t as well-known as some of the other dorms, but they are beautiful, nonetheless. Carefully cultivated and trimmed, it has more of a nature tamed by man aesthetic, but it was still beautiful.  

Rook knows them better than most students, spending so much time amongst the trees, bushes and flowers to practice his hunting skills and photography. When Yuu asked him for pointers, he was more than happy to give her a hands-on lesson.  

“And that is how you achieve this effect!” He says, setting the glass off to the side.  

“Nice!” she nods, finishing the note she was writing. “That is so much easier than what I was picturing. I can’t thank you enough for this Rook, this will help so much with the commission that Crewel gave me. What got you into photography anyway?”  

“Having pictures of Roi De Poison and Monsieur Curiosity that nobody else has? Bliss! But also, I do so enjoy the thrill of the hunt. Photography gives me the means to shoot and not kill my target. Their beauty must live on until fate takes them. Or my arrow.”  

Yuu cannot help but chuckle a bit, figuring that was the case.  

“Vil told me a bit about the day you two met. It makes sense. He also said you started in SavannaClaw?”  

“I did. Transfering dorms was the best decision I have ever made!” He touches the leaves above him, the apple tree swaying a bit in the cool breeze. “Why do you think I switched dorms, Mon Trickster?”  

Yuu zips up the ghost camera into her bag, taking a moment to try and phase her words. The Rook that Vil described reminds her of herself here. Ambition with no direction. Goals of survival with no room for anything else. Of being so cautious and gentle with everything around, but the people aren’t with her. Even those that care for her bruise her, even when they don’t mean to.  

“I think...you got tired of your life feeling like a museum.” Rook cocks his head at her. “Before, you kept your hands behind your back, quietly observing, scrutinizing and praising the beauty around you but never interacting. I don’t know if you thought you didn’t deserve it or that you couldn’t have it, but I think you got tired of imagining what softness would feel like. I think you decided that you would rather be an active participant, in your life, even if it meant changing, however scary it is.”  

It is quiet behind her. Yuu secures the last of the props into the tote, still waiting.  

“Rook?”  

She doesn’t get a chance to turn around. His front thumps into her, arms wrapping around her shoulders.  

“Apologize Mon Ami. I was stunned by your wisdom un moment.” He whispers. She feels him take a deep breath into her shoulder, but he’s hat completely blocks him from her view. “You might be the closest yet.”  

“Huh?”  

“Nothing, nothing!” He jumps in front of her, grabbing the tote with a bright smile. “Let us return, Roi de Poison does hate one being late!”

“We are meeting Vil after this?” She asks, jogging to keep up his pace that’s more like a skip.  

“Of course! We have traveled much today. We must replenish with good food and drink!”  

He goes on to describe what is on the menu, but inside it is taking everything within him not to gather you up and take him home. Oh, Mon Trickster, you read him too easily. He will have to keep you close in the years to come to just keep himself safe, in whatever capacity needed. There is, after all, more than one way to be a lover.  

[oneforthemunny]

summerween |modern!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: eddie is itching to decorate for halloween. the only problem is, it's still summertime.

still on my fall shit, and still on my fluff shit. very fluffy and sweet for these two (i love them). short little fall ficlet. all fluff. language, that's really it. just fluff.

“It’s not even August.” You stare him down from your place behind the counter, arms crossed your white tank top, adding emphasis to your statement. It was hot, late July hot, too hot for Halloween decorations. 

“Getting started early this year, sweetheart.” Eddie grinned, flashing a dazzling smile that had your chest swelling, cheeks tingling with warm rushes of emotion. “Never too early to get started.” 

“This feels like too early.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes. Despite your protests and snide comments of how many weeks away October was, you still helped Eddie clean. Vacuum and mop, wipe down everything the way you always did before decorating. 

“Kids aren’t even back in school, and you want to decorate?” You lifted a brow, cringing at the thud of the totes collecting a cloud of dust in the air from the dusty storage unit they’d been homed in since last November. 

“Yeah, c’mon, it’s the most wonderful time of the year.” Eddie trilled dramatically, tearing the lid off the first box. A plethora of black and orange and purple figurines poked out, a waxy, plasticky scent following from the stored heat. 

“Besides, everyone’s started putting stuff out. I keep seeing it on Instagram, people are finding all this cool shit. I wanna get what we have out, and then I was thinking we could go shopping tonight. Or tomorrow, just dependin’ on when we get done.” Eddie rambled excitedly, pulling out the tangled garland, eyes meeting yours with a sickly sweet pleading gaze. 

You rolled your eyes, snatching the garland in dramatic irritation, sitting down on the couch to unravel it. “We’re putting all of this out today? What if I had other plans today?” You challenged, lifting a brow. You didn’t have any, of course, Eddie had already asked you that yesterday when he’d planned this.

“I’ll help you do them, baby. I promise. We don’t have to go shopping tomorrow if you don’t want to.” Eddie hummed sweetly, brown eyes rounding in the most adorable way towards you. “I just thought we’d go to Fort Wayne tomorrow. Take you shopping over there.” 

Your lips pursed, too stubborn to relent so easily, but melting under his affection the way you always did. “There will be a million fuckin’ kids there tomorrow, Ed, school starts back in a week.” 

“We can go first thing in the morning.” Eddie countered, proudly setting a plush ghost pillow next to the others. “Before it gets insane. I’ll wake up early for you.” He winked playfully. 

Your lips rolled, fighting back a grin, chin ducking towards the garland. “Yeah, right.” You muttered. “You’ll sleep ‘til noon.” 

“Nope. I’ll set twenty five alarms if I have to.” Eddie declared, unwrapping the glass figure carefully, wadding the paper back up. “You have my full consent to dump cold water on me if I don’t wake up after the third snooze. That’s what Wayne always did, and it always worked.” 

You snorted lightly, facade breaking and a grin taking over your scowl. “Cold water? Like in a Disney Channel movie?” You lifted a brow, a snarky tease still in your tone. 

Eddie grinned, dimples creasing deeply. “Yeah, I was a heavy sleeper. ‘Specially after I hit puberty, ya know? I think it was my seventh or eighth grade summer, I started playing Neverwinter Nights and would stay up all night. Then when school started, I didn’t stop, and I’d stay up the whole night and Wayne would be so pissed at me in the morning.” He shook his head lightly. 

“One morning I wouldn’t get up, and I thought he’d finally just left me, was letting me stay home, and he came back, like, five minutes later with this popcorn bowl of ice water and dumped it on me.” Eddie snorted in laughter. 

You barked out a laugh, an edge to your giggle that had Eddie blushing, his own laughter bubbling thick in his chest. “So that’s how he got you to get up?” 

“Worked like a charm.” Eddie nodded, a half grin pulling at his lips. 

“Good to know.” You lifted your brow, lips curled in a devious little grin. Eddie’s knees weakened at the sight. “I’ll keep that in mind the next time you sleep through my cousin’s gender reveal.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes lightly. “Baby, that was- c’mon, even you agreed that it was insane that they had it at ten in the morning. Who has a party that early?” 

“Parents, Eddie.” You huffed. “Adults.” 

“Alright.” Eddie shook his head, trying to diffuse a fight he could sense was looming. “Hey, look, I forgot you got this.” He pulled the bright pink ceramic ghost out of the tub. 

“Oh, I forgot about that.” Your face lit up, pulling the final knot loose of the garland’s chords. “Put her on the shelf- no, on the other side, Eddie.” You clicked your tongue in annoyance, nodding harshly towards the empty shelf on the TV stand. 

Eddie flicked on the switch, the dim bulb fluttering to life before sticking it on the shelf, proudly. Normally, he thought pink decor- especially Halloween- killed the vibe. It was supposed to be scary and dark and gloomy and moody, not pastel. Until he met you. Then pastel pinks, oranges, purples, all made their way into his dark and gorey decor. Happy, cute ghosts with his grim reapers and skulls. 

“Did you get this at Target?” Eddie pushed the ghost so it was center, spine straightening as he stood. 

“Mm, I think so.” You hummed, hooking your foot on the edge of the tote, sliding it closer to you. “Maybe Home Goods.” 

“I think they have that huge Home Goods in Fort Wayne, don’t they? We could go there tomorrow. Look for more.” Eddie slid beside you, throwing a hand over your waist, squeezing your hip gently just to feel you squirm. His lips pressed to your jaw, soft and pillowy, leaving a burning heat of excitement in their wake. 

“Fine,” You relented, melting into his affection, letting him pull you into him victoriously. “But I want to go to Anthropologie too. I want to see if they have those cute witch glasses I saw.” 

“Yeah, we can do that. We’ll hit the mall first then Home Goods.” Eddie muttered, nose nuzzling against your cheek. 

“I think they’d be so cute on the bar cart, don’t you?” You hummed, nodding towards the tiny gold bar cart in the corner of the kitchen. 

A new edition to the apartment. Eddie had searched high and low, finally found the one you wanted on Facebook Market and drove all the way to Muncie to get it. You had been so excited when he showed it to you, beaming in a way that was rare but felt exhilarating to be the reason for it. Right now, it was donning a tequila theme, one you saw on Pinterest and had to match. 

“Yeah that would be. You know, Gareth used to date this girl, Ayesha, and she always got this wine called Witches Brew. It had a cool lookin’ label on it, that would be cool to add to it too.” Eddie tucked his chin down to look at you. 

“Ooh, that would be cool.” Your eyes lit up, just enough to have Eddie’s chest swelling with pride. “Isn’t there a Total Wine near the exit? We can stop and look there.” 

“Sounds like a date to me, baby.” Eddie squeezed you closer to his chest, fingers barely brushing your sides so you squirmed. He paused for a moment. “Are you sure you’re ok with me putting this up? I-I can wait if you really don’t want me to, I just, I’m just excited ya know-” 

“-I know.” You turned, shifting in his arms to look at him. “It’s fine.” You sighed dramatically, a teasing in your tone. 

“At least if we get it up now, we can see what we need to add. Get it before it sells out.” You muttered, spinning the tiny fake spell book in your hands. Eddie grinned, eyes shining with excitement. 

“But,” You lifted a finger, face dropping back to something serious. “Not outside yet. Only inside.” You pointed your nail at him threateningly. “Don’t want the neighbors to think we’re total freaks.” Eddie snorted, arms wrapping around you, pulling you closer to his chest so you were chest to chest, nearly nose to nose. “Please, a little late for that, babe.” Eddie snorted loudly. “They already know we're total freaks, what do you mean? They’ve definitely heard us being total freaks before- oof!” You cut him off, smacking him with a bat shaped pillow.

[redsrooftopprincess]

hey so how do you think Mikey’s brothers would deal with him being the first to get a girlfriend and she’s a human one at that. Cuz they clearly never thought any of them would find someone and it’s their baby brother who did the miracle of finding someone? 😂

Hi there! I'm not sure if this is exactly what you're looking for, but you're here so I assume you want my Mikey. Hope this is okay. 😅

Turned Tables

Michaelangelo x gn!Reader

Warnings: Queerphobia

4am and it's last call in The Village.

He's moving swiftly over rooftops, his usual route, a master of speed and momentum, moving through the city like water. He loves it. The rush. The flow. Moving around obstacles like they mean nothing. He is a turtle after all. Water is kind of his jam.

But not tonight. Tonight the heartbeat pounding in his ears has nothing to do with the thrill of movement. Tonight he's wearing his hoodie with the hood up. Tonight they're with him. And if he's spotted, there will be problems.

There have been whispers about suspicious gang movement in the area, and Leo wants to make sure that certain alliances aren't being made. They usually don't come out here. They have designated areas of the city to cover every night. It's smarter to stick to the same areas so that anything out of place will be more noticable. Which means tonight his bros were on his turf, and that scared the shit out of him.

He follows his brothers over storage sheds and HVAC units, keeping an eye out for anything out of place, occasionally glancing down into the streets below, knowing you'll be heading home after the party. Even if he can't say "hi" tonight, it's worth it just to look at you, even if just for a second. You're so damn pretty.

"Hey! Back off, incel!" the shout comes from the street below and he freezes. His brothers manage to get three buildings away before they notice he's missing.

By the time they make it back to the rooftop where he left them behind, he's already put himself, openly, between a group of four drunk bros, and several sparkly queers.

You and your crew had been on your way home from a party. Ironically enough, you'd just been missing your bright-eyed boyfriend, but understood when he said his brother needed the whole team tonight. You knew the score when this whole thing started. Superheroes gotta superhero.

And damn if he doesn't look good doing it.

Hood still up he glares at them, a low growl backing his words, "Wrong neighborhood, my dudes." Mike says evenly.

The look on the drunk bros faces was enough to know they were thinking maybe they'd had too much.

"Fuck it. Not worth it anyway. Fucking queers."

The dude-bros stumble off and Mike turns to face his very relieved friends. "You guys okay?" He says.

"Yes, thank you, papí," says a Drag Queen in red sequins, she walks up and gives him a kiss, leaving red glitter lipstick on his cheek.

"You know I got you, mamí," Mike says brightly, with a wink, making no effort to wipe the lipstick away. At this point they're most likely watching everything from the rooftop, so it didn't matter anymore.

"We missed you at the party," you say with a smile.

His gaze falls on you and his showman smile morphs into something softer. "Hey, Angel."

You look back at your friends.

"Let me guess," says a man wearing gold shorts and matching cuffs/collar, "you'll catch up?"

You grin and they sigh dramatically, teasing you, as they hug Mike goodbye, thanking him and insisting he show up at the next party.

You step forward and grab his mask tails, pulling him down into a kiss. Usually it's enough to melt the tension away. Not tonight. You pull back and look at him curiously before your gaze moves past him and you see black shadows cut out against the light polluted sky. You meet his eyes again and you can see the underlying panic.

"They were gonna to find out eventually," you say, quietly.

He presses his forehead to yours, "I know. I just..." He sighs.

"I know..." You say, touching his face gently. He'd told you about his brothers, and you understand their need for secrecy, you all do. He'd told you if they ever found out, there was a chance they would refuse to let him see you. Keep him from you completely. But there is no way in hell you're letting him go. You'll fight his big bad brothers yourself if you have to. "Go talk to them. Maybe it'll help to know there are people who aren't afraid." You twist the mask's tail around your fingers and tug, pulling him out of his own head, "Do you want me to come with?"

He shakes his head, "I gotta do this alone. Explain some things. But I think you meeting them at this point is unavoidable." he smirks down at you. You've been asking to meet his family. You haven't said anything, but all the sneaking around is starting to get to you.

He's quiet for a few moments, and shifts his weight, stalling. He must be really scared. "Now or never, Sunshine," you say, tugging on his mask tail again. He gives you a nervous smile and kisses you again, sweetly, before walking across the street backwards, just to look at you a little longer.

When he makes it to the alley, he looks at the ladder to the fire escape and sighs. There's a chance this could go well... right?

When he reaches the roof, they're all standing there, staring at him. Mike swallows. "Hey... So yeah, couple things..." He hauls himself over the edge of the building and stands to look up at his eldest brother, arms crossed, waiting. "So... that's Y/N," he says, as if reciting a list, "and those are my friends..." he gestures a bit further, "and -"

"Parties?" Leo's even voice cuts through the air as sharply as the blades on his back.

Mike glances at Donnie and Raph who look at him with a full spectrum of emotion, from betrayal to hope.

"How long has this been going on?"

"Just... A few years."

"Years!?" If Leo had eyebrows, they would have disappeared into his hair... if he also had hair.

"Leo -" Mike tries.

"Years. Parties. For years."

"Leo, if you'd just -"

"People know about us, Mikey. A lot of people. Don't you think that's kind of a big deal? You're putting everyone in danger here. If just one person -"

"Leo they're queer." Mike interrupts solidly. That shut him up. Leo stares at his brother, taken entirely off guard. "If anyone is used to having to hide their and everyone else's identities for fear of literal murder it's them. We protect our people."

"... We?" Raph asks after a moment.

Mikey gives him a look, "I'm a turtle attracted to humans, what would you call it?"

That shut all of them up, and Mike gives them a moment for that paradigm shift.

"Anyway, yeah, I've been doing a quick run through The Village before coming home every night, just to keep an eye on things."

"That's why you've been coming home late? I thought you were just smoking out somewhere." Raph says.

"That's because that's what I wanted you to think," Mike replies. Duh.

"And your friend? How long has that been going on?"

"We're more than friends," Mike shoots back immediately, a fire in his eyes as they meet his eldest brother's. They could come for him, he was used to it. Not you. His brothers eyes widen and they look at each other before landing back on him, "and we've been together for six months, two weeks, and five days," he checks his watch, "Six days. You want the hours, minutes, and seconds or are we done?" He says.

He pushes past Leo, and makes it almost to the edge of the rooftop before hears Donnie speak softly behind him. "... why would you keep this from us?"

Mike sighs, coming to a stop, "Because... I don't know..." He turns around, "I guess I was afraid you'd try and take it away," He looks at Leo almost defiantly. Raph smirks, kinda proud. "Or maybe... that they'd like you more than me." He looks down at you with a sigh, having rejoined your friends. You're laughing. It's his favorite sound in the universe.

Turning around, you catch him watching over you like a guardian angel turtle. You proceed to blow several kisses his way using each hand, before making a heart with them and spinning back around. The last six months have been the best of your life.

Mike can't help but smile, his brothers look on in awe as Michaelangelo's more-than-friend skips on down the sidewalk.

"Look," Mike says, his eyes returning to his brothers, "I'm safe. You're safe. They're safe." He assures, gesturing in each direction in turn, "We're a pretty tight group, and there's a protocol," he looks at Leo pointedly again, "that we follow with new people before anyone even learns I exist. I've saved the sequined ass of just about everybody in this neighborhood. They know me here. We're safe here... ish, obviously."

They're all speechless.

"I don't like this, Mikey." Leo says after a moment.

"You don't have to like it, you just have to accept it," Mike says without any question in his voice.

Leo sighs rubbing his forehead, "Well, at this point I suppose it's too late for damage control." He looks back at Mike, proud and resolute. This Michaelangelo has only made a handful of appearances in their lives, but Leo knew what it meant. He wasn't backing down. This decision had been carefully thought out and every angle considered before it was made. Mikey may play the fool, but he's far from it. A gifted strategist and the best of them at thinking on his feet, if he says it's safe, it is.

Leo sighs again, "Okay," he says, and Mikey can finally breathe again, "but we all need to be in on these protocols, and Don should look over security."

.....

He's just gotten back from his nightly run, and came home smelling like strawberry daiquiris and you... He may have stopped for a minute.

He's just stripping off his gear to hit the shower when Raph appears in his doorway, knocking softly. "Uh hey," he starts, uncomfortable, "You got a sec?"

Mikey tosses one of his hand wraps into the basket in the corner and starts unraveling the other one, a small burst of glitter explodes into the air with the first layer of cloth. Mike snorts and swats it out of the air. "Sure, bro. Sup?"

"I just..." He struggles, looking at the floor, trying to find the words. He's embarrassed he even wants to ask, but he has to know. There's a chance now... A real chance at meeting real people... maybe... maybe even a chance at... "What's it like?" He asks, looking up at Mikey.

"Gonna have to be a bit more specific," his other hand wrap joins the first.

"Yeah. No. Stupid. Sorry," he laughs nervously, shaking his head and looking at the floor. His hands are actually shaking, he clenches them into fists.

"You okay, bro?" Mike asks, changing tone and pausing to look at his older brother, concerned.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he assures, "I, uh..." He sighs and takes a deep breath, psyching himself up. "What's it like... being with someone who isn't scared of you...? Who actually wants you there?" He can't even say the word. He feels stupid for needing to know this damn badly, but he needs to know that it's real. Possible.

A slow smile blooms on Mike's face, his biggest brother would the one to ask. When they played as kids, he's the one that used to ride off into the sunset with the girl. White (well, green) Knight was his default, and a lot of where the anger in him came from as a kid. He had no choice but to live his life watching the world get their happy ever afters, until he died, alone, at the end of a blade. Michaelangelo sees something in Raph's eyes he hasn't seen in a long time. It's faint, and swimming in doubt, but definitely there: Hope.

He takes a breath, crossing his arms over his chest, "Well... It's kinda like..." He pauses, thinking, "Do you remember that old rusted pipe we used to skate on when we were kids?"

"The one that almost killed us? Yeah."

Twelve years old and Donnie had just souped up Mike's board and Raph's skates with some "prototypes." They were supposed to stick to the tunnels near the lair to test them out, but the second they stepped out, Mike made a beeline for the pipe.

The prototypes worked well. Too well. The speed and weight were too much for the rusted metal and it crumbled beneath them, sending them careening down a series of pipes and tunnels with no idea where they were going to end up, or what state they'd be in when they got there.

They skated as best they could, trying to stay on their feet, or even their shells, but everything was moving too fast and there were too many twists and turns. They couldn't keep track of where they were or where they were going, at one point some unidentified substances were involved, and at times it felt as though they would break apart.

When they finally emerged, battered and bruised in an unfamiliar tunnel a little over a mile away, they just sat there for several long moments, stunned.

When they finally met each other's eyes... they lost it. Laughing hysterically with tears streaming down their faces, they could barely feel the sting of cuts or the ache of bruises.

It was terrifying and exhilarating, and at more than one point they thought they were for sure going to die. It had been the most incredible experience of their young lives. They promised only ever to do that once (it 100% should have killed them), but both of them remember, to this day, exactly where that pipe is, just in case they ever want another go.

"It's like that," Mike says, tossing his belt in the corner and walking past Raph to grab a shower.

...

The next evening, before patrol, he receives a visit from a rather concerned looking Donatello. He doesn't bother knocking, but walks into the bedroom and closes the door behind him.

Don spins around to look at him, and raises his hands in a placating gesture. "I'm concerned."

Michaelangelo looks up once he's finished pulling up his shorts. "Okay...?"

"Have you and Y/N had sex? Of any kind, I mean."

"Dude."

"I'm serious," and he meant it. He was wearing his serious face. "Any exchange of fluids beyond kissing?"

Mikey looks at him, Donnie is really, actually worried, and now so is he, "Yeah... why?"

"How often?"

"Dude."

"At least... tell me your wore protection."

"I'm not exactly worried about them getting pregnant, so no."

"Are you worried about them getting regular injections of your DNA?"

This made Mikey pause, why would he... Oh, Gods... He looks up at Donnie, eyes wide and terrified. "Shit, I didn't even think..." He sits down on his pillow pile, thoroughly rocked. His hands cover his face as the possibilities overwhelm him. Mike looks up at his brother with pleading eyes, "are they gonna be okay...? They're gonna be okay, right?"

"I don't know... but I'm going to need a few hair follicles for testing."

"Done," he says quickly, snatching a small baggie from his nightstand and shoving it in his pocket.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I really am a fucking idiot.

Michaelangelo throws on his gear as fast as he can, booking it out of the lair.

He's back in less that 45 minutes

The next few hours are spent with him panic pacing, while Donnie is running tests. Finally, he straightens from over the microscope, one last visual check to confirm what his readouts were saying, and Mike stops, waiting for whatever news comes next.

"Nothing, they're clean. No mutagen detected." Don turns to smile at his brother.

"Fuck, me..." He sighs heavily, breathing hard. The rush of relief makes Michaelangelo so dizzy he has to reach out and catch himself on the wall. Even so, this is definitely something the two of you need to talk about, just in case.

"I'll want to check in periodically, just to make sure it stays that way, but things should be safe enough for now." He pauses and looks uncomfortable for a moment. Emotions are tough for Donnie. They've never made much sense to him, especially when expressing them to others. He knows what they feel like inside his head, but he's never been entirely sure what to do with them. Like he was never given the manual. Even so, he knows that this is important. "Hey, so, um... the probability of something like this happening... one of us actually finding someone, is... Astronomical... Now it’s... slightly less so," he says, thoughtfully, with a soft smile, "so thanks for that."

.....

The eldest of his brothers finally shows up after almost four days. He stands in the open doorway, chagrined, and knocks on the frame.

"Hey, Mike." Leonardo says, taking a few steps into the room.

Michaelangelo looks up from what he's doing and stands, expecting another argument against all of this. He's ready.

"I'd like to apologize."

Okay, he wasn't ready for that.

"I was caught off-guard, and I reacted poorly," he says, "I was worried. I still am. This whole… thing scares the hell out of me. It means there are more pieces on the board, more people to keep safe."

Leo sighs, "It also means that maybe... there can be something more than… this. And I... I don't know if it's worth it yet, the risk, to us or them. I wish I did. This is new... territory for me. I'm used to understanding how things are supposed to work, at least when it comes to us, but this..."

"Hey," Mike says, interrupting Leo's word vomit. Leo tended to keep things pretty close to the vest, even among the five of them, so it didn't happen often, but big things. Important things. Emotional things, could send him spinning out until someone stops him, or he tornados himself into a panic attack.

Leo takes a deep breath, as Mike grins, "How 'bout you let me teach you a couple things, for once."

He smiles back at his youngest brother, chuckling nervously, "Thanks. I would actually really appreciate that." Leo steps further into the room now that things seem settled between them, and pulls a pillow from the pile to sit on, settling in. He dismissed his brothers explanations earlier, he owed it to him to listen now. "So... what are they like?'"

Michaelangelo spends a good amount of time telling him about you, his friends, and how this whole thing got started. By the end, Leo isn't exactly more comfortable about the situation, but he sees the potential, and despite himself, he's just a little excited.

.....

At this point he's pretty sure his brothers are cool with everything. Less cool in one particular case, but he's working on Leo. Michaelangelo's father, however, is an entirely different story.

Leo had told him that morning, after they'd gotten back, and for two days he remained in silent meditation. By the time he emerged on day three, Michaelangelo was afraid to even be in the same room as him.

He knows this is a big deal. He knows his dad has been meditating on his own feelings on the matter and the best way to approach them with his youngest, and this could either go really, really well, or blow up in his face, but if there's one thing he knows about the old rat... he can't be avoided. Not forever.

The fated knock comes on day five.

"Hey," Leo says, "dad wants to talk to you."

Mike takes a deep breath and heads down to his father's room.

"Have a seat, Michaelangelo," he says, gesturing to the empty cushion across from him. There is a low table before him with a chipped pot and two steaming cups of tea.

Mike walks into the room. He doesn't seem mad, but that doesn't mean anything. His dad is great at playing it cool. He sits across from Splinter, nervously.

His father asks for the whole story, and listens patiently as Mikey tells him everything. How saving a drag queen one night led to his being accepted and wanted by a whole group of people. Friends that have helped him in more ways than he can count. Definitely more ways than he could ever help them. And you. He tells his dad about you. How amazing you are, how kind and patient, and something he hasn't even told you yet: just how stupid in love with you he really is.

It takes hours.

When Mikey is finished, His father is quiet for a long time, processing everything. He'd received some of the story from Leonardo, and was fitting the new information into the appropriate places, while carefully considering the situation. Mike tries not to panic.

"I'm proud of you, Michaelangelo," he says, finally. Mike's head shoots up from staring into his tea cup to meet his father's eyes.

Okay, what?

"Not only have you done all things possible to ensure the care and safety of both your new friends and our family, but you had the courage to look for something beyond what we know to be safe. You had the courage to try. All that done on your own. And while next time," his father gives him a look, "something like this comes up, I would much rather you come to me first," he pauses to ensure the message sinks in, "I understand why you did not, and you have my deepest apologies for that." The old master bows his head, penitently, across the table.

A half-laugh escapes Mikey, tears of relief stinging his eyes. He was ready to fight for you. In fact, since this whole thing started he's basically been thinking about nothing but what the hell he's going to tell his dad. The last five nights, he's held you a little tighter, a little longer. Not to say goodbye, he'd walk away from them if he had to, if they made him choose. You're too important. But he didn't want to, and now he doesn't have to, and sweet relief pours, fizzing, through his veins

"Really?" Mike asks softly, it wasn't often he got rewarded for disobeying orders, especially when the reward was something this big. You. Holy shit they were letting him keep you. He wipes at his eyes as his father smiles, "I uh... thanks Dad." He says, unsure whether he's laughing or crying.

"I feel as though a new chapter of our lives is beginning, thanks to you," his smile crinkles at the corners of his eyes, "and I look forward to seeing where the tale will take us."

.....

The next morning, Leo, Don, and Raph are sitting around the kitchen table after patrol, when Mike storms in with a purpose.

He slaps a neon green paper down in the middle of the table for the three of them. It's a flyer for a party, happening at Mike's usual spot, tomorrow night.

They look at the flyer, and then each other, before their gazes turn to their father, standing in the doorway with a steaming cup of tea. Four adult turtles, nearly pushing 30, silently begging their dad for permission.

There is a subtle smile under his whiskers as he takes a sip of his tea, "Be back before sunrise," he says, and his smile widens as he sees his children light up with the promise of a new adventure.

They'll panic later, when the reality sets in that they are about to meet a large group of people and they have no idea what they're doing (Leo may already be screaming internally), but for now they're excited, and looking forward to tomorrow.

....

Tag list

@thelaundrybitch @the-cauldron-witch @fyreball66 @ninnosaurus @tmntngl @thegirlwiththeninjaturtletattoos @zagreustomb @ramielll @silverwatergalaxy @gornackeaterofworlds @daedric-sorceress @sophiacloud28 @iridescentflamingo @milykins

[bettyfrommars]

Might be too much in line with I'm on fire.. but what about classic a classic motorcycle riding drifter.. that is more than meets the eye... maybe more monster than man and that's why he drifts... idk if that's enough maybe he's drifted into small town USA and he meets reader at like a Truckstop/ Diner that's across from the one hotel in town and over days of her waiting on him (EDS) they strike something up... spicy.. if you will.. maybe he finds her delectable and she finds him mysterious & charming idk just spit ballin

The Drifter

missed connections

out on the highway

blurb 1 blurb 2

monster!drifter!Eddie x dinerWaitress!Reader

18+ONLY, smut, blood, oral (f receiving), mention of drug and alcohol addiction, mention of physical abuse by an ex, mention of PTSD, emotional trauma, 2 lost souls finding each other, a killing, monsterfuqqing, but it’s also a really sweet, fluffy story if that makes sense. wc: 4.2

A/N: I was so excited to get this ask! I had to really pull back on the length of this story because I could've kept writing it forever and will most likely bring back Eddie The Drifter again in some oneshots. I did a quick re-read, but sometimes I just need to post these before I obsess over them for too long.

(Also, when Eddie is thinking about how "damaged" they both are, that is his perception, not mine. I think they are both perfect.)

Eddie had been drifting for a while.  He didn’t want to know anyone, and he didn’t want anyone to know him.  He hadn't been the same since the physical and emotional trauma he’d suffered in The Upside Down.  Steve took him by the arm once and told him he understood what he was going through—that they all understood—and that he wasn’t alone.  Eddie knew Steve and the rest meant well, but they couldn’t understand, and he was convinced no one ever would. Trauma affects everyone differently and for Eddie, it started to turn him into his father, and that was what scared him more than anything.  Dark and brooding with a short fuse, there was a beast living inside of him that had not been there before the ordeal with Vecna; or perhaps, it had just been sleeping.  

He lost his temper with Dustin once, and at the time, he thought he was having a very normal reaction to the situation.  It wasn’t until he recognized the fear in his younger friend’s eyes–the way he backed away from Eddie and put his hands up as if he needed to protect himself—that Eddie knew he had to go.  After years of silent struggle and becoming a hermit more and more, he decided to hit the road.  

He started out in his van, sleeping in it, getting odd jobs wherever he went, staying in town just long enough to make some money, and then he was in the wind again.  He called Wayne from payphones and sent postcards back home to Hawkins once in a while, but not often.  In his mind, they were better off without him.

The second year he was on the road, he ended up getting involved with a biker gang and doing some jobs for them that paid well but were on the wrong side of the law.  Before the Upside Down, he’d been more of a lover than a fighter.  Sure, he had to defend himself a few times, especially from his old man, and he never took shit from people without giving it back, but ever since he almost died, he’d acquired some type of superhuman strength.  There was a transformation that happened in him now, fueled by the adrenaline of his rage, and in the past decade, he’d been paid to hurt more people than he could count. The problem was—he’d started to like it. 

Eventually, he was able to trade in his van for a Harley FXS 80, and he carried most of his early possessions with him.  He put the rest of what he owned in a storage unit in Oregon, and he’d planned to circle back there again one of these days to get it all when he decided to settle down—but years later, he was still on the road.   He’d been using his bedroll to sleep out under the stars the past couple nights, but the clouds told him it was about to rain, and he decided he could use a shower and a real bed for the night.

Red River Junction was less than a dot on a map, a truck stop town with a place to eat, a place to sleep, and a place to pump your gas, set right plop in the middle of nowhere.  You’d grown up in a town not too far down the highway, and you were still there, in the same trailer your mother left to you when she passed.  You worked at both the Sundown Motel part-time, and at Margie’s Diner, and in your free time, you dreamed about leaving town and never coming back.  

You heard the rumble of his motorcycle before you saw it; chrome pipes growling to a stop as the rider found a place for his bike in the lot.  A motorcycle, or even an entire MC, pulling into the junction was nothing new.  You were the only stop for gas and food for a good fifty miles.

You were staring for so long out the window as he dismounted and took his helmet off, that you overflowed the coffee cup you were refilling and the elderly customer scoffed at you.  He had long, curly hair tied back in a ponytail and bangs that had grown out just long enough to tuck behind his ears.  Black leather jacket, and leather chaps over his jeans. Your attention was immediately drawn to his jewelry: the small hoop piercing in his ear and the chunky rings across his knuckles.  My Boyfriend’s Back by The Angels played softly from the jukebox while you made your way to the front to greet him.  The kitchen was slammed with only Big Joe behind the grill, and Leslie was the only other waitress, but she was on a smoke break.  

You fumbled the big plastic menu in your hand when he took his sunglasses off to nail you with those star-flecked eyes.  “Just one for lunch?”

He tucked his sunglasses into the front of his shirt and looked around.  “You still serving breakfast?”

“All day long,” you assured him.  Seats at the counter were all full, so  you offered him a booth, and he slid in without another word or glance in your direction, taking the menu from you with a grunt. You tried not to stare at his scars: the angry, purple one on his neck, and the deep white slash across his chin.  His hands were also flecked with scar tissue from various fights, and punching through mirrors every time he hated his own reflection.

50 year old Leslie was tying her apron and chewing gum when you moved behind her to grab a cup and saucer for his coffee.  “Another grumpy one,” you whispered over the sound of clinking silverware and scattered conversations.  

Leslie raised her eyebrow a few times, resting her elbow on the counter.  “Hell, he can get grumpy with me any day.”

Eddie didn’t say much while you waited on him, and you didn’t think he was paying any attention to you, but he saw the way you splashed a bit of vodka into your soda can behind the counter.  He also caught the way you used that same liquid to toss back a couple pills you scooped out of your apron pocket just before you turned to grab some hot plates from the kitchen hatch.  He didn’t judge you for it or think it was odd being that he’d spent the past ten years trying to find ways to dull his pain.  

He thought you were too beautiful for this deadbeat town; too sweet, too kind.  He noticed the bruise on your forearm and the vacancy in your eyes and he felt an instant kinship with you: the damaged recognizing the damaged.  

When you came to clear his empty plate, he asked you if the Sundown Motel was a decent place to stay.  It was the only motel for miles and he didn’t care how decent it was, he just wanted a reason to keep talking to you.

“Sure, it’s great,” you shrugged.  “If you like bedbugs and carpets that look like a violent crime took place recently.”

He met your eyes, and there was a moment of levity there that lightened both of your spirits if only for that moment.  

“I’m cool with bedbugs,” he brushed his tongue between his lips.  “It gets lonely on the road, it’s nice to have some company.”

He told you his name was Eddie after he read yours off of your name tag, and when you came back from seating a table full of seniors who were on a bus tour to the casino, he was gone.

He left you a generous tip, though, and after hours of getting tipped in quarters and loose change, it felt good to have some solid cash in your pocket.  His motorcycle was gone too, and you wondered if he’d decided to hit the road or stay the night.  

You told yourself to forget about him, that he was just another drifter you’d never see again, but the evening had other plans for you.  

You were supposed to have the night off from both jobs, but Susan at the front desk of the motel begged you to come down and work the check-in desk for an hour while she went to pick her kid up.  You wished you could say you had some big plans, but that was absolutely not the case, and so you rolled your car up to the back lot behind the dumpsters and changed out of your orthopedic shoes and into something less drab.  

You thought it would be an easy hour to space off and read a book, but ten minutes after you clocked in, two guests locked themselves out of their room.  It was a two-tier motel, and as you made your way up the concrete steps with the husband and wife in question behind you, fumbling with the keys, you caught sight of Eddie a few rooms down, and your heart jumped into your throat.

He was sitting in the plastic chair in front of the door to his room, smoking a cigarette, stripped down to jeans and a wife-beater.  His hair was still wet from his shower, hanging down his shoulders, showcasing the patchwork of scars that covered his flesh.  

He didn’t make eye contact, but he saw you. In fact, he knew you were on your way a few minutes before that, because he heard your voice, and it made him stay and light another smoke.   He flicked his ash and waited for you to let the couple into their room.  

On your way back to the stairs, the soda and snack machine blocked your view, but once you rounded the corner, there he was again.  

“Is your room satisfactory, sir?” You put the keys in your pocket and stood tall, pretending to act professional.  

Eddie met your eyes then, staring up through his lashes, and one side of his mouth lifted in a smirk.  “Disappointed I haven’t found any bedbugs.”

You coughed a laugh, swaying on your feet.  “Give it time. They come out at dark.”

Eddie didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, but he’d also learned never to miss an opportunity with how transient his life was.  His attraction to you was not purely physical, which was a rare occurrence for him. 

He shifted in his seat, a silky curl of gray smoke passing from his lips.  “Are you free later tonight? Can I buy you dinner?”  

Suddenly shy and baffled as to why he’d have any interest, you lowered your chin and shuffled your foot. 

 “I-I’ve got a boyfriend,” you cringed as you said it.  Tony had cheated on you and left you more times than you could count.  He took off a couple days ago after he knocked you around, and you had no idea where he was, but you continued to hold onto this strange sense of loyalty for him.  Perhaps it was because you were convinced he was the best you could do.  

“Did the tough guy do that to your arm?” Eddie asked in a low mumble, his eyes lingering on your bruises.

You covered the marks with your other hand, reflexively.  “He’s been under a lot of stress lately,” you always felt like such an idiot when you defended that loser, but you didn’t know how to stop.  

“Well,” Eddie smashed the butt in the ashtray by his chair and stood up to full height. One nipple under his white tank was hard, but the other one seemed to be missing.  “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

You were too stupefied to move, you just stood there holding your arm, waiting for him to go back into his room.

But Eddie paused in the doorway and turned to give you one last look.  “You deserve a lot better, sweetheart. If he puts his hands on you while I’m around, I’ll fucking kill him.”

—------

You thought about Eddie’s words for the rest of your shift.  When it was over, you drove the ten miles back to your trailer, took a shower, and found yourself driving back to the motel, as if your will was no longer your own.  

“What are you even doing?” You hissed aloud to yourself as you parked behind the Sundown in your usual spot.  It was dusk now and you accepted the possibility that he’d probably invited a different woman out to dinner by then, but any amount of reasoning couldn’t stop you.  You checked the scene first, looking up from the main parking lot to catch the flicker of the tv in his room to let you know he was, indeed, still up there.  His motorcycle was safe in its place, too, and you realized you hadn’t even prepared what to say.  You were an anxious mess, but you were also hungry for him in a way that was foreign to you.  

You hadn’t known much comfort or safety in your life, but you felt those things when you were around Eddie.

After standing at his door for a good 5 minutes, you finally found the courage to knock.

Eddie opened the door while your knuckles were still on the wood.  His eyes looked you over, offering a buck of his chin in appreciation. “Well, well. You are a gorgeous bedbug.”

Your cheeks burned hot at the complement.  “I had some free time, so I thought I’d just check and see how you were doing, if you have everything you need.”

Eddie braced his shoulder against the door jam, giving you a squint. “So, you came to check on me while you’re off the clock? Damn, that is good service.”

You flexed your hands, forcing a laugh, trying your best not to just turn around and run away.

“Are you hungry?” Eddie raised an eyebrow.  “Do you want to come in? Cause we can —”

“I’m not hungry.” You answered, bolting inside of his room when he extended his arm as an invitation, before you lost your nerve.

“Neither am I,” Eddie agreed.  But, he was craving something else.  

He locked the deadbolt and made sure the curtains were closed.

—-----

There were very few words left to be spoken as your lips collided with his, meeting with equal levels of urgency.  You kept trying to kiss him deep and desperate while your hand palmed him through his jeans, but he held you off a bit with soft pressure.  He cupped your face and caressed your cheek with his thumb while he kissed you, giving individual attention to your top lip and then the bottom one.  He kissed down your neck, flicking his tongue out every so often to taste you, making you gasp—you’d never been worshiped with someone's mouth before.    

Breathing heavy, he started to unbutton your shirt.  “Is this okay?” He asked, wondering how far you wanted to take it.

“Yes,” you gulped.  “Please.”

Once you had his shirt off, you bent down to kiss and lick his scars—it was an unspoken act of acceptance that made Eddie’s cock twitch.  You weren’t used to being cared for in bed, and Eddie could tell by the way you hurried to push your jeans down and bend over so he could take you from behind.

“Not like that,” he whispered, using strong arms to lower you to the bed while he shimmied your jeans off.  He got on his knees and scooped up your hips, nudging your pussy through your underwear with his nose, and then he planted kisses across the wet spot and along your inner thigh.  The animal inside of him loved your scent; he wanted to bury himself in it, and he couldn’t help the growl that escaped him.  

You fell back on the bed and covered your face with one hand.  “Wait, I’m—not many people have done that—I’m not sure how to—”

Eddie finger pulled your underwear to one side, exposing your slippery lips for his tongue to flick.  “Do you want me to stop?”

You arched back at the sensation of his mouth on you.  “No, no, please don’t stop,” you urged, putting your hand on his head to gently cup his ear, the one with the silver hoop.  

He moved away just long enough to pull your underwear all the way down your legs and off, maintaining eye contact with you.  He didn’t rush, he took his time, and kissed his way back up your legs to the prize.  

The gentle and precise way he swirled his tongue on your clit had you stammering his name with a few curses in between.  As his attention to your bundle of nerves built your arousal and it spilled down your slit, he dove his mouth down a few times to taste it and drink you, shivering at the pleasure it gave him.  He couldn’t help it, he had to reach down to grab his cock so he could fist it while his mouth brought you closer.  The taste of your hormones in your slick had pre-cum wetting his tip already.  

Tony had only gone down on you a few times, and he never really seemed to enjoy it.  But Eddie was one of those who could eat a peach for hours, as they say.

“Right…there…” you hushed, startled as you felt the wave of an orgasm rise.  Eddie zeroed in on that spot with just the right pressure, fluttering his tongue as he sucked.  His other hand milked his cock in long strokes, taming the beast from cumming too soon, moaning warm breath against your cunt.

“Eddie!” You cried out just as the release took you and wracked your body, like a spring popping out of a tight coil, unraveling.  Eddie pressed his mouth closer to lap you up, feeling your body vibrate as he held your hip in place.

He only broke the seal made by his mouth once you were too sensitive, and your limbs dangled off the bed for a minute, unable to move. 

It didn’t take long for you to start coaxing him up on top of you, spreading your legs out, begging for him to be closer.  He met your kiss with deep, soul-searching need, and you whined at the sensation of his tip sliding up and down your slick.  But, then he hesitated, and pulled up to meet your eyes.

“Inside of me,” you begged, nodding.  “I need you inside of me.”

And yes, that was what Eddie wanted too, but now there was another problem.  

Eddie’s ears pricked at the sound of footsteps outside the door.  He sniffed the air, trying to identify the presence.  He slid off of you and stood, watching the door while he pulled his jeans up and zipped his stiff, aching cock into place behind the denim.

Shuffling up onto your elbows, you were about to speak, to ask what was wrong, but Eddie silenced you with a finger to his lips.  He tossed your jeans over and motioned over his shoulder for you to put them on in the bathroom.

There was something about the whole situation, and Eddie’s sudden silence, that unnerved you, and so you scampered off the bed as quietly as you could and did as he asked.

There were no lights on in the room, except for the infomercial on the mute TV, but the bright moon illuminated the walkway outside enough for him to catch sight of someone pacing out there.  

Finally, there came a heavy knock and a voice.  

It was Tony, and he shouted your name.  “ARE YOU IN THERE? HUH? You fucking whore!”

You buttoned your jeans and all of the blood ran from your face.  Eddie turned his head to look at you.  The adrenaline of pure fear pumped through your body as you froze in place. 

Eddie put his hand out, motioning for you to stay right where you were, behind him.  

Tony pounded on the door again.  “YOU CAN’T HIDE FROM ME! One of my guys said he saw you go in here with some fucking dude.  IF YOU’RE FUCKING SOMEONE ELSE I’LL KILL YOU, you goddamn bitch!”

By “one of his guys” Tony meant one of the other drug dealers in town, who were generally crawling all over the motel, leeching off of the clientele.  Eddie looked deceptively calm as he stood at the end of the bed, breathing slow, and you walked over to grab his arm, to warn him that Tony was a crazy motherfucker, and you’d just go with him so Eddie wouldn’t get hurt.  

But Eddie motioned for you to hide, so you did.

“Hold up, man,” Eddie was moving now, heading to undo the deadbolt and you cringed, pushing back as tight as you could between the wall and the bathroom door.  

Once the door was unlocked, Tony stood there heaving, looking Eddie up and down.  Tony was big in a stocky way, but not big like Eddie, and he enjoyed that flash of fear that lit over his adversary’s eyes at first glance.  Sure, the guy had some obvious prison ink, but that didn’t mean shit to Eddie.  

“Where is she?” Tony demanded, pushing in.

“Where’s who, man?” Eddie was being so casual about it, and you were  trying not to scream.  

Eddie shut the door and quietly locked it behind him

Tony’s eyes darted around the room, and then he spun on his heel; his eyes were pinned and doped-out.  “Don’t act dumb, man.  My fucking girl.  Someone said they saw her come up here.”

Tony walked up to Eddie and started poking him in the chest.  “Tell me where that fucking whore is before I make you my bitch.”

Nothing could have prepared you for what happened next—for the transformation and the carnage.  You witnessed it all through the crack in the bathroom door as if you were watching a horror movie. 

Eddie changed, in an instant; the muscles in his shoulders and arms bulged, the teeth in his mouth turned jagged and sharp, and his eyes went completely black.  His massive, clawed hand wrapped around Tony’s throat, lifting him up so that his feet no longer touched the ground.

You muffle a scream with your hand, watching Tony gargle and spit, his limbs flailing.  

Eddie’s lips stretched to speak around his fangs.  “She’s not your girl anymore,” he growled.

Eddie strangled Tony with one hand  until he lost consciousness, and then he threw him to the bed like a rag doll, pouncing on top of him.  He proceeded to rip his throat open with his teeth; blood squirted on the wall and across the door where you were hiding, misting you in the face.  

When he was finished, you made your way out of the bathroom.

Eddie was still a monster as he got off the bed at the sight of your approach.  His clawed hands twitched at his sides, his hair dripped with blood, and his skin from nose to chest was bathed in crimson.  His black eyes assessed you, waiting for you to scream or try to run—-but you didn’t.

You got close enough to touch him, to run your hand up his chest to feel the blood between your fingers, and then brush some bloody hair behind his ear.

Eddie frowned, wondering why you weren’t afraid of him, wondering why your desire for him didn’t seem to falter.

You parted your lips, watching the red drool drip from his teeth.  “Are you okay?"

Your mouths found each other again, tasting the tang of your own blood as one of his fangs pricked your lip.  You each did frantic work of unzipping each other’s jeans as Eddie scooped you up to lay you on the floor.

While the last few pumps of blood shot from Tony’s artery, monster Eddie spilled his seed inside of you, throwing his head back with a howl.  

Now, there really had been a crime committed in that room, and Eddie would need to be on the road again, gone by daylight.  

Maybe this time, you’d be going with him.  

[hanmaitani]

Survivor's Guilt

PAIRING - Oikawa Tooru x Reader WC - 1.5K GENRE - Angst SYNOPSIS - it never gets better just easier. what didn't kill me never made me stronger sometimes it just made me wish it would have. cause i'm not a fighter i haven't been for a long time. the mourning and missing turned into survivor's guilt when i started moving on too.

PREV PART | MASTERLIST | NEXT PART

It had been three months since Tooru left you.

You’d only seen him in person in passing. Had had less conversations with him than fingers on one hand.

You almost didn’t mind it.

There was the one time that he pretended like you weren’t even there, if he’d actually seen you or not you didn’t know but he’d made sure to call a greeting to everyone except you.

That one stung.

Three months.

It wasn’t that you didn’t care about him anymore. More like trying to convince yourself that he wasn’t you problem anymore.

You could get on without him. You could. You’d done it. Pulled yourself off the bottom of the pit he’d dropped you into and crawled your way out. Quickly, throwing yourself full swing back into you life.

This time without him.

You were currently with none other than the three best friends of the man you were trying to forget the existence of.

The three men that you’d spent so much of your time with for years now.

“So what’s been going on with you?” Makki asked as he sat easily next to you on top of your desk. The one you'd put together on your own not that long ago.

Mattsun was poking through the stack of boxes to your left, ones that you'd just pulled out of storage, trying to downsize the unit you'd had to get. Iwa stared into your empty fridge with disappointment.

Your apartment was a mess, really, the time to unpack the new boxes having never really come about. Mostly from your insistence of sleeping more than you'd needed to before.

“You any better?” Makki asked sincerely, throwing an arm around you as he tugged you closer, a familiar gesture.

You sighed, scrunching your nose up at the question. “It’s not better,” you leaned against Makki, your head falling on his shoulder as you watched Mattsun pick open a box, “but it’s easier I think.” Mattsun tilted his head at you, as Makki hummed in acknowledgement.

“We could still kick his ass?” Mattsun suggested as he came to stand in front of you. He smiled lightly but you shook your head in disagreement. “You’ve got bruises, you know.” He poked at a bruise on your thigh and you swatted his hand away.

“Slipped when I was moving my dresser.” You mumbled, fingers tracing the biggest of many bruises, another thing you'd convinced yourself that you could do on your own.

“Should have asked for help.” Iwa chastised. “And you need to buy food.”

“I don’t have time,” you mumbled. “I didn’t wanna bug you guys, I’m sure he needed you more.”

Makki tapped your head in disappointment. “You know what they say.” He chuckled, giving you another squeeze as he looked at your partially-unpacked apartment. “Time heals all wounds.”

You scoffed and shook your head. “No,” you whispered, ignoring the way they looked at you, sadness tinting their vision of you. You pulled one of your knees up to your chest, bracing your heel on the desk to keep it there as you wrapped your arms around it. “It doesn’t really heal it. It isn’t healed. Just sometimes I forget how much it hurt at first. And as time goes on I forget more often.”

Mattsun moved to sit on the other side of you, throwing an arm over your shoulders on top of Makki’s. “All the cliches kind of suck.” He hummed in acknowledgement and watched as you nodded your agreement. You stopped leaning on Makki and set your chin on top of your knee as Iwa turned his attention fully to the rest of the group. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger and all that.”

You hated that one most of all.

Mattsun was poking into a box from next to him on your desk, showing Makki some of your desk decorations that you hadn’t put out yet as he came across them.

He meant no harm bringing it up.

But what didn’t kill you, it didn’t make me stronger. It just made you wish it would have.

You’d spent days in bed, trying to cope with the loss. You hadn’t even cried at first. Just laid there.

You didn't text him. Not really, not like the first time he'd left. You'd tried to avoid it.

But you wanted to so much.

To beg more. To yell more. To cry to him. To tell him you still loved him more than anything.

You wanted the hugs that he used to give that you always went to when you felt like you needed to breathe again. You’d used to drive anywhere, 30 minutes out of your way, just to get a hug.

You wanted to fight with him, to fight for him. For the both of you.

But you seemed to have lost your fight.

You tried. Tried to find the girl that you used to be. The one that bared her teeth and bit remarks out. That got what she wanted because she could fight for it. The fighter.

You weren’t her anymore. You’d stopped being her slowly. Sinking down into the girl that let Tooru talk you into everything. That didn’t argue with him because she was afraid to lose him. You weren’t a fighter like that anymore. Not with him.

Iwa caught your attention, pulling you back from your mini zone-out and back to the three boys who were there to pick up a borrowed vacuum and to check in on you.

“Y/n?” he whispered, softly asking for your attention. You hummed and looked up at him, tilting your head just enough to lock eyes with him. You could see Makki and Mattsun watching you carefully from either side of you. “Are you alright?”

No, of course I’m not.

You wanted to scream it. To cry about how much it hurt to be mourning a relationship you thought was going to be the rest of your life. To be dropped in what was supposedly a split second decision. What it felt like to feel like you’d never meant anything to Tooru.

“I’m just tired, Haji,” you responded, pushing out a small smile. Iwa didn’t look convinced by your lie so you continued on. “Just working a lot to make sure I can afford the rent on my own. Rebuilding my savings after dropping it all on a deposit.” You knew all of them were looking at you concerned but you just smiled, squinting your eyes at them to make it cover your whole face, a trick you'd learned. “I’m alright, just tired. Honestly.” You lied straight through your teeth.

The three of them didn’t stay for long. They’d helped you unpack a box. Mostly because you would take something out of Makki and Mattsun’s nosy hands and set it in a spot you deemed appropriate.

It was nice to laugh with them again. To have a moment not alone.

But now?

You laid on your couch and stared at the ceiling of your apartment. Your phone was next to your head, abandoned from where you’d been scrolling social media just minutes prior.

You were alone again and it was like it all just came creeping back. They’d made you talk about Tooru. You had tried your best to avoid the subject. You didn’t even know if you cared anymore.

Well, you knew that you cared that he left.

But was it that Tooru was gone?

Or was it how he left?

You’d heard a little about how he’d been doing. He’d had a couple issues with his car, with money. You’d laughed out of spite to yourself when you’d heard. Served him right. You’d struggled and pulled yourself out of the hole he’d thrown you in.

You’d survived the wreckage that your relationship became.

But you couldn’t tell if you missed him or just having someone.

You’d known, the second you saw him that he would break your heart. That he would never be yours, not really.

You’d been grieving the loss of him. The loss of the constant he’d forced you to let him be.

When had you stopped thinking about him all the time?

There was a tightness that wound up into your throat. A feeling of guilt gnawing away at your bones.

Your phone lit up, a message from a a dating app you’d drunkenly downloaded and made a profile for a week prior.

You swallowed a lump in your throat.

How could you have downloaded that?

Were you really trying to move on? Without even thinking how he would feel?

The sinking feeling in your gut started to eat its way up your throat and pooled water across your lash line. The guilt of everything freezing you.

What were you doing?

Did he care?

Did you even care if he did care?

a/n a/n thanks for coming to the free therapy of fictionalizing my irl breakup experiences. yes this actually happened. partially based on "Good Grief" by Leanna Firestone

TAGLIST - OPEN

@all-in-the-fandoms @pearl-blue-musings @winniethepooh-lover

[sirfrogsworth]

Wishlist Haul

All I asked for were pants, and those are coming Saturday. But you all came through in a big way with my wishlist and helped me solve some problems that have really been bugging me lately.

One of my biggest current issues is my decision to use my M1 MacBook Air as my main computer until I can move my PC upstairs at some distant time in the future. Which means I need to ask a lot more of it. And it is capable, as these Apple Silicon devices are amazing and very zippy, but I only got 256 GB of storage because I thought this would just be a secondary computer while I was taking care of my dad.

So I need storage. And if you do photography and use Lightroom, you know you need *fast* storage. In the days of spinny disc drives, going back and forth between images was maddeningly slow. I already hate the process of culling photos and picking the best ones. And sometimes you'd need to find 5 winners out of a few hundred. And when it took 3 seconds to switch between every photo, I wanted to die. And honestly, it could still be better.

But one of the best solutions is a super fast SSD. Which I had. I bought it right before my parents got especially ill and was planning to install it in my PC. But my priorities changed and I just never found the energy.

The problem is that was an internal NVME SSD. I needed it to be external.

Which is where this little thingie comes in.

This is an NVME enclosure, and if you are looking for cheap, fast external storage, this is so much better than those external SSDs they overcharge for. For $200 they give you a 2TB drive that can read about 2000 MB per second. Or you can get a 2TB NVME and this enclosure for the same price and get 3000 MB per second. Not only that, but it is upgradeable. In a year when 4TB is $100, you can plop that in. And the Mac's Thunderbolt 4 has a max speed of around 5000 MB/s, so there is room to improve there as well. Though sometimes advertised speeds are not reality speeds.

The only thing you need to be aware of is these drives run hot. You're going to think there is something wrong with them. Like, they top out at 90C. Which is nearly 200 degrees in freedom units.

I wanted a convenient way to mount my drive, but I didn't want 200 degrees on the back of my screen, so... MAGNETS!

And I can stack a few more if that section starts feeling too hot.

So, I have that problem solved. I can now use this as my main computer and work on my photography.

Next up... fashion!

I'm going out more and I want to look a little more presentable. I thought these two tone shirts looked a little more fashionable. And they are very comfortable too. I have a red one that I think I'm going to wear on my trip. I know you can't see the two tone well in the picture, so here is the product photo of the red one.

Next problem?

Well, it's maybe not a problem so much as something cool I wanted. A black light!

My mom had all of this uranium glass and I had no idea my salt shaker was marginally radioactive all these years. I really wanted to take a proper photo of some of the glass before it all gets sold at auction. So this should be a fun experiment.

I will say, if you don't have uranium glass, don't get a black light. You will want to burn your house down. It does not matter how clean you think you got something... you didn't clean it enough. And I have all of this dry flaky skin on my feet. It doesn't hurt. It doesn't bother me. You can't even really see it unless you look really close. But when I shined the light on my feet they looked like they had some undocumented disease. I will not be sharing a photo of that.

But the depression glass, that's super neat.

Some proper photos coming soon I hope. Maybe after my trip.

Next problem!

My key fob. This thing is a piece of shit.

Even if it looks cool under a black light, it is THE WORST.

It's cheap plastic, it takes a stupid watch battery, the symbols on the buttons all wore off. And all of that I could handle, but for some reason this fob has an effective range of about 2 feet. I literally have to be standing next to the door before it will work.

I had a black fob that worked much better, only the plastic casing was falling apart. But I taped it up as best I could and hoped it would not fall apart. Then I went to get my tires changed and they needed the fob to do some special reset of the pressure sensors and the battery died before they could. I went home to try and change the battery, and the entire thing basically disintegrated on me.

The inside looks like this.

The battery retention contact is held on by a tiny dab of solder. And if you pull the battery up even a little, it snaps off. And that's what happened. And to make matters worse, the rubber buttons were falling apart and the unlock button just... fell off.

So I was either stuck with the 2 foot range green one or I needed a new fob. Thankfully, they are only 20 bucks for 2 on Amazon. Unfortunately you need a dealer or an auto locksmith to program them. The lowest quote was $100 for about 5 minutes of work. The dealer actually wanted to sell me the fob as well, which they quoted as $150 for ONE. Same cheap plastic piece of shit and everything.

So, I got all of the parts from the broken fob and I hot glued that battery contact back into place and I transplanted that into a shiny new casing.

Works just like new. The buttons feel much better, I can actually see the symbols, and it has a range of at least 100 feet. And that hot glue isn't going anywhere. Changing the battery might be an issue, but these lasted several years.

Next problem!

An intervalometer is a fancy shutter button for a camera that allows very long exposures. It is detached from the camera so you don't shake anything and it needs a backlit screen because if you are using it, you are most likely in the dark.

My intervalometer is about 12 years old and uses another dreaded watch battery. And the backlight on the screen seems to be dead. So it is pretty much useless.

But look at this!

The light even works in the... well, light! And it takes normal batteries. Seriously, watch batteries need to stay in watches.

I don't know if I will get to take a long exposure in Florida, but I want to have this with me in case I do.

Next problem!

This one I actually solved on my own. But I found these stainless iron (yes, iron!) shims and I covered them with black tape and now all of my most used kitchen items never take up counter space.

Yes, I use magnets and hot glue to solve most of my problems.

Next problem!

My garage door is not very smart. And the remote control for it is huge and does not fit in my man purse.

So I downsized the remote.

But I wanted to fix the non-smart thing as well. A while back my brother got into my garage without me knowing. He must have taken a remote of his own. And I really don't feel like figuring out how to change the frequency, so I now have a sensor that lets me know when the door is open with a phone notification. Beyond that, I can open or close the door from my smartphone from anywhere. And I can give access to anyone with a smartphone in case of an emergency.

I will say, this company is really paranoid about people being crushed by garage doors. The instructions tell you to put up this sign in your garage...

And if you use the app to close the door, you get a light show with annoying beeping...

And I know that these accidents happen in real life. But whenever I think about how that could actually happen, all I can imagine is that scene in Austin Powers...

In any case, I am really glad I have this now. And I also like that if I forget to close the garage door, I can check the app and not have to get up to do it.

OH! I almost forgot. If I want, I can have Amazon place packages inside my garage.

Next problem!

What in the heck do I need galvanized steel plates for?

In product photography you need a diffusion panel called a scrim. If you try to buy one of these already made, they are hundreds of dollars. They are mostly made for movie productions, and those items always have inflated costs.

So most product photographers make their own out of tracing paper or a special plastic called Translum. It's $80 per roll, but lasts forever. I used to hang my scrims from the ceiling. But you can't really angle or move them, so you have to move the object you are photographing instead. Which is just a backwards way to work. So I invented my own scrims with two strips of very thin wood, metal chip clips, these little plastic feet that held up plexiglass barriers during COVID. And to weigh everything down... steel plates.

This is version 1.0 where I glued the plastic rather than affixing it with the chip clips.

The clips work much better and allow me to put different weights of plastic on, or even double plastic, for more or less diffusion. And I ended up not needing that board at the bottom which allows me to curve it as well.

And these scrims let me take this photo...

It's called graduated lighting and it makes things look neat.

I also got a backpack for my trip and shorts, but I am going to forego an explanation of those.

To all that helped, thank you so much. I hope you can see I am putting everything to good use.

[jo-harrington]

Corroded Coffin Fest - Day 21 - Hate This Town

Summary: The one where Corroded Coffin learns that life sucks no matter where you live.

Word Count: 999 (YIKEEESSSS!!!)

Rating: T

Warnings/Themes: Angst, Friendship, Homesickness, Reconciliation, Open-Ended

Check Out the Main Post for @corrodedcoffinfest here! Even if you didn’t start on Day 1, you can still join!

Tagging: @the-unforgivenn at her request.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

“I hate this town.”

It was something all four of the boys had said at one point or another during their lives.

Eddie, more than anyone, had no problem announcing it to the world. He felt stuck and resigned himself to amounting to nothing, to dying in Hawkins, a failure.

Dave was next, cursing his parents for uprooting his life time and again. Never any stability as they moved him around thanks to his dad’s job. He’s muttered it under his breath often, not only hating the new homes they landed in, but to convince himself that the homes they left weren’t that great anyway.

Jeff and Gareth had both been born and raised in Hawkins. But that also led to a sort of resentment. Seemingly stuck in a loop of close-mindedness. Never any chance for growth or change.

But then they got out.

It took a little time and a lot of effort.

Even if their music didn't get them anywhere, they had to get somewhere else.

Indianapolis became the place at first, a shoebox of an apartment that they all piled into which made it feel that much smaller. They each had odd jobs--serving, retail, operator for the phone company--and rented a storage unit that doubled as their practice space. It wasn't ideal but it was something.

Until they started spending more time working or in traffic or always lost out on gigs to bigger bands.

"I hate this city."

So they uprooted once again and dreamed bigger. Chicago this time. They were smart about it; it wasn't that far of a drive to take a few days off and hit the pavement to find jobs first. The jobs were still odd--coffee shop manager and mail room clerk--but they paid a little better. They rented a whole, albeit small, house with a garage, not just a shitty apartment.

But the growing pains were still there.

"I hate this city," they said when their neighbors alternated get-togethers in their backyards every other night, loud music keeping them up.

"I hate this house," when someone brought a date over to stay the night and the walls were paper thin.

"I hate you," when someone left the fridge open in the middle of the night and the motor went out and their food went bad.

Fights, fights, fights.

They all thought bands broke up over differing opinions or egos or whatever. Not because someone liked to drink straight out of the milk carton.

So they took a break. Just a little one. Their lease was almost up and they'd lived in that little house long enough. All made enough money to have apartments of their own...or at least so all of them didn't need to live together like the Monkees.

"We'll figure it out," Eddie, ever the leader, assured them. "And then we'll get back to playing."

Only a short break turned into a longer; turns out when you lived on opposite sides of the city and work different schedules, you can't schedule time to hang out, let alone have a band together.

"I hate this," Eddie lamented over the phone late one night. "Would you believe me if I ever said I sort of missed the old days? Missed Hawkins?"

"I think you just miss your friends," Wayne offered. "But you're welcome to come back for a visit any time you want."

The next day, he called in sick, packed up the van, and drove back home.

It was strange seeing the town he hated so much through different eyes.

Hawkins seemed smaller. Older and faded, some of that so-called charm everyone said it had just seemed sad now. Houses for sale and unfamiliar shops on Main Street.

He took Wayne out for breakfast and was shocked to find that Benny's was a Denny's now.

"People change," Wayne shrugged. "And so does the world. You think Thacker Tires was always Thacker Tires? It used to be Howard and Sons filling station way back. That's where I had my first job."

Still there were some things that never changed, like the quarry, so Eddie drove up there with his guitar to get some air and clear his head.

He was shocked to find a few familiar cars parked at their old haunt.

"Took you long enough," Gareth greeted when Eddie approached their little group. They were all sitting on the ground; Jeff had his own guitar, Gareth was beating two sticks against a bucket he found, and Dave was hunched over an old paperback.

It was silent as they mostly ignored one another. Occasionally one of them would cave and ask how the others were doing.

It was strange, having gone so long without being fully apart of each others lives. Hearing "I don't work there anymore" and "we broke up" made them feel like strangers, not the close friends they had been.

Then Jeff got to strumming a familiar tune and Eddie joined in with the harmony. Gareth not too long after providing a beat. And finally Dave--self-proclaimed non-singer--with the vocals. Until they were all giggling to themselves.

"I missed you guys," Jeff admitted. "I'm sorry it didn't work out."

"Who said it didn't," Eddie rebutted. "And who said we have to give up, we can try again. We're older, smarter--"

"Debatable," Gareth snarked, earning himself three middle fingers.

"--we don't need to give up on the dream."

"Seems like the only time we can get along is when we're in Hawkins though," Dave sighed in defeat. "God, I hate this place. I don't want to come back."

"No, hey, listen," Eddie thought back to what Wayne had said. "I don't know if you guys hadn't noticed but Hawkins changed. So did we. There's nothing about this town that makes it work. And there was nothing about Indy or Chicago that made us fail. If we want it to work, we have to try. And I don't think we've been trying for a while.

"So what do you say?"

[vodika-vibes]

More than Friends

Pairing: Tup x Reader

Word Count: 1643

Warning: Tooth rotting fluff, you have been warned, also mention of a previous abusive relationship.

Prompt: "We could be more, if you want."

A/N: Once more, I'm ignoring the list of prompts I need to write, as well as the request I have, for a different clone. Sorry not sorry.

Divider by Saradika

“Thanks for helping, Tup,” You say cheerfully as your best friend places the final box on the floor of your living room, “I definitely would not have been able to afford the moving company.” You joke as you move between the stacks of boxes, making sure they’re all sorted properly.

“Well, you did promise me food and alcohol,” Tup replies as he organizes some of the boxes, “Plus, it got me out of today’s training.”

“Happy to help,” You grin at him, and step over a tightly rolled rug to join him in the kitchen. And then you lean against the counter and look at the stacks of boxes, “So. Where should we start?”

He leans against the counter next to you, “Mm. Kitchen, and then bedroom. That way if we don’t finish today, you’ll be able to eat and sleep.”

You flash a grateful smile up at him, and then lean against him comfortably, “What would I do without you, Tup?”

“Still be unloading your storage unit,” He counters with an answering grin as he reaches up and lightly tugs on the tips of your hair. “Come on, we’d better get to work.”

You sigh and allow your forehead to thump against his shoulder for a moment, and you smile when you feel his gentle touch on the top of your head. And then you pull back, “Alright. Same box or different boxes?”

“Different. It’ll go faster.” He pushes a box over to you, and then walks over to one of the taller boxes.

Several hours later, with your kitchen and bedroom unpacked, and the living room mostly unpacked, you flop onto your bean bag with a sigh. “I’m never moving again.”

The massive bean bag dips as Tup flops next to you, “Like, from the pillow or to a different house?” He jokes.

“Both,” You reply, turning your head to look at him with a fond smile, and then you laugh quietly, and roll onto your side. You reach out and lightly  tug on one of his curls, “Your hair is falling down, Tup.”

“Well, I have been moving around a lot,” He says defensively, as he sits up and pulls his hair out of his bun and combs his fingers through his hair.

“You have, and I appreciate it,” You answer soothingly, reaching for his hair tie. “Here, let me braid your hair.”

Tup pauses, and then he presses the hair tie into your hands, “You are very good at braiding.” He agrees as he moves to sit on the floor in front of you.

“I had a lot of practice braiding my doll's hair growing up,” You say brightly as you lightly comb Tup’s hair with your fingers, and split it into sections.

“Ah, so that's the trick.” Tup’s eyes close as you start gently braiding his hair, “So, I have a question,” He says after a moment.

“What’s up?”

“Is it my fault that you and your boyfriend broke up?” Tup asks, without opening his eyes.

Your fingers pause for a moment, “Of course not,” You lie, “We just grew apart, that’s all.”

“...you’re a terrible liar.” He says with a sigh, “What caused the problem?”

“Apparently I’m ‘too close’ to you.” You roll your eyes, “He was jealous, possessive, and insecure, and I’m sure the break up would have happened anyway.”

Tup tilts his head slightly, “Possessive?”

“Yeah. He didn’t want me talking to you, or anyone with a Y chromosome. Or my family.” You reply easily as you tie off the braid, “There, done.”

Tup runs his hand down the braid, and then turns to look at you, something grim in his eyes, “He was trying to isolate you?”

You smile at him fondly, “So it would appear,”

“Cyare, why didn’t you tell me?” Tup asks, a frown crossing his face.

You laugh quietly and reach out to lightly cup his face with your hands, “Because I know you, Tup. If I told you, you’d get that look on your face, the same one you have right now, and then I’d have to bail you out of prison.” You pause, “Which I would, because you’re my best friend and I love you, but it would still be annoying.”

Tup blinks at you, and then he flashes a slow smile, “You’d bail me out of jail?”

“Well, yeah. Of course.” You absently stroke his cheek, “Besides, he did a shit job at isolating me.”

“Yeah, because I came to your place and you were so happy to see me that you tackled me.” Tup jokes.

“I-”

“You knocked me over.”

“...I did do that, didn’t I?”

“It was impressive. I was impressed.” Tup continues with a growing grin as he taps your hands, and you drop them from his face, “Your ex was much less so.”

“Well…I never hugged him like that, I suppose.” You admit.

Something gleeful dances across Tup’s face for a moment, “Good.”

You laugh and flop back on the beanbag, “You’re so petty sometimes, Tup!”

He watches you with a fond smile on his face, “Well, I’m allowed.” He moves back to the beanbag, flopping next to you, “You know it wouldn’t have worked, right?”

“Hm?”

“Him trying to isolate you.” Tup clarified, “If you think, for a moment, that I wouldn’t drag an entire squad of my brothers to rescue you-”

You grin at him and shift to drop your head on his shoulder, “My own personal knight in shining armor.” 

He turns to look at you, something warm and soft in his gaze. His hand comes up to brush some of your hair out of your face. His fingers linger on your cheek for a moment, and he exhales slowly. He opens his mouth to say something, hesitates, and then flashes a rueful smile, “You owe me food, cyare.”

You grin at him, “Alright, alright. What do you want?” You ask as you sit up.

“Does that Mandalorian place deliver?”

“I think so. I’ll check.” You stand and walk over to the kitchen to grab your datapad, opening it and scrolling through the app.

Tup remains laying on the beanbag for a moment longer. He sighs quietly and presses the side of his fist against his forehead, his eyes squeezing shut. And then he gets to his feet and walks over to the kitchen.

“So, it looks like they do deliver, but we have to order a lot of food.” You say as he joins you, “So I was thinking that we could get appetizers, an entree, a dessert, and the drinks I promised you.”

“Sounds good,” Tup replies as he leans against the counter, and then he places his hand on the datapad and gently tugs it out of your hands, “So…I was wondering if we could talk?”

“Is something wrong?”

“No. Yes? Er…maybe.”

“...well, it does have to be one of those options, I suppose.” You reply, looking concerned, “What’s wrong?”

He takes your hands, slowly threading your fingers with his, “I really hated your ex.” Tup explains slowly.

“I know Tup. You weren’t exactly subtle-”

“No, I-” He sighs, and squeezes your hands, “I need you to listen to me, please?”

“Of course. You have my undivided attention.” You rub soothing circles on Tup’s hand.

“I really hated your ex even before you told me that he was trying to isolate you,” Tup explains slowly, “Because I’ve been in love with you for two years.”

“You-”

“Let me finish, please.” You close your mouth, and he inhales sharply, “I love you. I’m in love with you. I can go out and do my job as well as I can because I know that you’re here, safe, and waiting for me to come back. When I wake up every morning, you’re the first thought that crosses my mind, and you’re the last thing I think of before I go to sleep.” He speaks quickly, his grip on your hands tight, and his gaze searching your face for something, “And I know that we’re best friends, have been best friends for years. But-” He hesitates for a moment, “We could be more, if you want.”

You stare at him, your eyes wide. You slowly pull one hand out of his tight grip and you reach up and you very gently place your hand on his cheek, “You really think about me all the time?”

“How could I not?”

You smile, soft and gentle, “I would like more.”

“...you would?” Tup asks, lightly tugging you closer and slowly pressing his forehead against your own.

“Well yeah. It’s you Tup. It’s always been you.” You smile softly, “I’m just kind of blind sometimes. Will you ask me, properly I mean?”

He smiles then, wide and bright, “Will you be my girlfriend?” He asks, his voice low and breathy.

“Yes,” The rest of your sentence is stolen, as his lips press against yours in a gentle kiss. His lips are warm and soft, and his grip around you firm and comforting at the same time.

He slowly pulls back and presses his forehead lightly against yours again. Tup has a bright grin on his face, “So…did your ex break up with you because you’re in love with me.” He asks, his tone light and teasing.

“That…might have been mentioned, yes.” You admit sheepishly.

His grin grows, “You still owe me food, cyare.”

You huff, though there’s no annoyance on your face, “I suppose this will be our first date, then?”

“That sounds like a plan to me,” Tup leans in and kisses you again and again. “I’ll…go back to unpacking.” He kisses you one last time, and then releases you to return to the stacks of boxes still in the living room. You watch him for a moment, a smile on your lips, and then you finally turn back to ordering your dinner.

[racefortheironthrone]

Please innumerate for us the specialized problems of the library sciences.

Let me start with the caveat that my information is based on my experiences at the National Archives more than a decade ago, and policy has definitely changed on this front as we can see from this graph of recent digitization - apparently NARA wants to get to 85% digitization by 2026. (Even still, I'd note that the records of the WPA are <0.001% digitized.)

However, back when I was doing the research that would eventually become my first book, I remember being at the National Archives II building in College Park, Maryland (Go Terps!) and getting really frustrated that all the records of the WPA were only available in their original physical form and that all the guides and indexes were also in paper only and were all from the 1970s, and I asked the archivist why the hell the National Archives hadn't been digitized already.

This is what they told me: if it's handled correctly and stored in the right environmental circumstances, paper can last a thousand years. Carbon copies can last even longer, if they don't rip. (Seriously, the bastard things are like onion skins, they'll split if you look at them funny.) Microfilm is slightly more technologically advanced than paper, but it only lasts 500 years in the right conditions.

We've only had computers en masse since the 1980s, and already there's a huge amount of records (especially from the early years) that we don't have any more, because the hard drives got re-formatted due to higher costs of storage space back in the day, or because old computers got thrown out when they were replaced by newer models and the hard drives are all rotting in landfills somewhere, or because backwards compatibility broke down and we just can't read those file types on our modern computers, or because the actual data got corrupted on the disc, or because some legacy company is asserting copyright against a video game museum, or because some political hack and/or president of the United States decided to violate the Presidential Records Act.

While we thought that the internet would cause an explosion of written records from ordinary people on the scale of the advent of mass literacy, there are vast swathes of the early internet that simply do not exist any more because the servers got switched off when Geocities et al. folded in the dot-com bubble burst or when everyone migrated to Web 2.0, and the Internet Archive tries its best (bless its heart, affectionately) but it can't be everywhere and save everything.

As a result, the archivist told me, digitization is a fraught question: what file format do we use? How do we know that file format will still be compatible and backwards-compatible in 50 years? 100? Longer? Do we keep everything locally or store it on the cloud, and how do we ensure that the storage mechanisms won't fail if there's a blackout or a virus or whatever? Do we digitize everything now, or do we wait until optical character recognition improves enough to the point where digitized records can be searched for words and phrases? Etc.

Keep in mind, I am a public policy historian who studies the 20th century U.S - I work primarily with the official records and the central archives of the richest government in the world. From a library sciences perspectives, this is kind of an ideal scenario, and it's still kind of fucked up. (Let me tell you, the rage and grief I felt when I learned that most of the General File of the Public Works Administration was thrown away by the National fucking Archives and Records Administration in the mid-1950s because they were running out of shelf space in the D.C location and didn't think these records were important...)

Now imagine what it's like at a local historical society or a small liberal arts college, or the national museum of a developing nation for that matter, who do not have the resources for the kind of grand digitization project that NARA started doing five years ago. Think of the sheer scale of historical records that sleep, unseen and untouched perhaps for decades and perhaps for ever, in little cubbyholes all across the world. Among professionals, historical records are measured in linear and cubic feet - think about that for a second, how many pages of paper there are in a foot when you stack them up, and how many hundreds and thousands and millions of feet there are across the face of the world. Think of all the millions of feet of pieces of paper that have been lost to us because of fire or rot or war or time itself.

This is why Peter Turchin is a quack. Historical records are not a standardized little database for social scientists to plug their fucking spreadsheets into; historians don't play that kind of bullshit t-ball, with all our data neatly packaged and handed to us on a silver platter. Our profession is not a social science, it's a goddamn treasure hunt through boxes that were never catalogued or categorized (or that were re-catalogued so many times no one remembers how they were put together in the first place) to find writing that no one has read since the authors died. All of us know that our work, our understanding, will always be partial and limited, because memory is infinitely fragile and the very idea of historical preservation is a mad existential defiance of entropy itself. These records are real, they are fragile - to hell with the Library of Alexandria, remember the National Museum of Brazil? - and they are all that is left to us of the dead.

[canonicallysoulmates]

J2 Gold Panel SFCon 2023

If they could take any outfit from any character they've played on any of their shows which would it be?

Jared says he'll answer for Jensen and Jensen will answer for him, and for Jensen he says lederhosen. And for Jared, Jensen answers the white Lucifer suit, and y'all Jared gets so excited that Jensen got it right it's adorable!

Jared also reveals that he actually does have the white Lucifer suit! Because who else is it gonna fit, that was tailor-made for him. So he has a storage unit that's filled with his and Jensen's spn stuff- it's interesting cause when mentioning the storage unit Jared kinda sounds like he starts to say it's one they've shared for many years but instead cuts himself off and asks Jensen if he still has things in there which by the sounds of it he does. I don't know it just stood out to me cause I don't consider 3 years ago to be many years ago.

Anyways, among the spn stuff that they have is things like scripts, s1 and s2 crew gifts, outfits, and the MOL sconces which Jensen also used in The Winchesters.

Jared also has like an ashtray on a pedestal thing that he loves, and he has an outside area where he likes to have the occasional cigar (says he hasn't had one in the past year) but one day they had a big storm in Austin and it had fallen and he was worried about it but it didn't break. x

The next fan doesn't have a question they just would like for them to wish their dad a happy birthday. 🎂

What if they had gotten John back instead of Mary?

Jared jokes that in his opinion the problem is that John spent so much time, so many years facing zombies he might be a little slow 😂. But also Sam would have had to be all angsty a lot.

Jensen says it probably would have been more of a character arc for Sam with dad rather than what Dean went through with mom; it would have been a similar style of art but it would have been more Sam and John.

Jared says that's a good point, and that it might be that for the first 10 seasons, Sam was so angsty the writers decided they need to get Dean angsty.

.................................I'm gonna bite my tongue. x

This next fan makes the mistake of handing Jared her phone so they can see a picture of her boyfriend cause people say that her boyfriend looks like Dean and now that he's growing out his beard he looks like Jensen. At the same time they were looking at the photo a text notification came in from her dad asking about the panel so y'all can guess what happened...Jared replied to it 🤣

Fan should have known better than to give these two little devils access to her phone, they both start messing around on it trying to figure it out so they can take a selfie. The fan shows Jared where to find the camera but he doesn't realize it's on video mode until he tries to take the pic 😂

They are so mischievous I love them 📱

When did they realize this was gonna be big?

Jared quips this morning; Jensen answers it was definitely a sliding scale because there wasn't an episode or a season. That he was talking about this the previous day at the VIP but he thinks around s6 was when they first realized they might not get canceled, and that was 5 seasons with every season not thinking they were gonna renew the show and after season 5 it was like 'oh I think they like the show, I think they're gonna keep it around.'

Jared agrees, and says that's very true also that was when Kripke left and they wondered if it meant they were done but then in s6 the family came back and kept them going so he has the same answer.

Then they say at the same time they renewed their contract for two years.

Jared also adds that for him when Kripke finished his first 5 seasons as the showrunner he was thinking it meant they were done and on the way out but he doesn't recall the first season or the first time this happened but the first time they did Hall H at comic con and looked out and saw it was a lot of people and their faces were on the backpacks.

Jensen mentions they did a lot of marketing for s1, more than they had ever been a part of, but that doesn't always mean success they can market the hell out of things and it be a total flop so it was hard not to get excited about seeing their faces on the side of WB studios, it was really cool but they kept it in check so there was a lot of those things along the way that was really cool and could be a really big deal but he doesn't think they ever let themselves buy into that until they already had 5 seasons under their belt. x

Another non-question, the fan is wearing a shirt that originally didn't include Jared but they didn't like that so they added him with an iron-on decal and her husband thinks it looks like Leatherface so it's basically her showing Jared her shirt x

If Sam and Dean had wings what would they look like?

Jared thinks his would be colorful, that one thing he loved about the show is that the angel wings were intimidating but he hopes Sammy's angel wings would be more inviting. That's lovely 💛

Jensen says Dean's would look like car doors opening. x

And that was the last question but before they leave the stage Jared announces that Jensen bought him an early birthday present which is the shirt he's wearing and they'll be auctioning it off later for charity. Jensen says he literally went and bought Jared shirts yesterday because he knew he was going to show up to the con and not have any- what a sweet husband 🥰

And for anyone curious the shirt reportedly made over 4k at auction! Also after the auction, Jensen signed the shirt but before doing so he smelled it and said it smelled good because Jared always smells good due to him using a lot of cologne, and he loves it. You know how much you have to love someone and their smell, to sniff their sweaty shirt that they've been running around in all day and think it still smells good ❤️

J2 Gold Panel SFCon 2023

[final-girl96]

Broken World: Chapter Forty

Three Months Later

Winter has set in completely. The nights were bitter cold, and the days weren't much better. We were lucky enough that we found a storage unit a few weeks ago. We stayed there for about a week and went through as many units as we could, taking anything useful. But most importantly, we found winter clothes and blankets. The only reason we left was because walkers got in. There have been nights when we slept outside by a fire. It wouldn't be getting any better anytime soon.

We couldn't stay in one spot for too long before a herd would come through. The countryside wasn't any safer than the city with all the walkers migrating from the cities and more populated areas to the countryside looking for food, aka the living. Finding food for ourselves was a big problem, too. We looted every house and store we came by. Any place that was surrounded by walkers we tried to avoid. Daryl went out hunting several times a day to try and get whatever animal came by his path, but even that was becoming hard to come by.

Right now, we were sitting around a fire in the middle of the woods. T-Dog and Rick were keeping watch. We all stayed close together to help keep us the tiniest bit warmer. We're lucky enough that everyone has at least two blankets, plus we found sleeping bags, which helped a lot. None of us really slept; we were always on guard, ready to move. Tonight seemed calm for now. I had a blanket over my legs, tucked underneath me and one around me, pulled tight under my chin.

When I saw T-Dog and Rick coming back, I took both blankets off and folded them, setting them with my stuff. “I'll take the next watch,” I said. Rick stopped beside me, “I don't want you doing it alone,” he told me. I was about to tell him I would be fine but was cut off by Daryl. “I'll keep watch with her.” Rock nodded his head, clapping his hand on Daryl's shoulder.

Daryl followed me away from the camp site and into the woods. I wanted to get the perimeter of the camp. We had taken cans and hubcaps and strung them on rope so we could put them up around the camp to alert us if walkers or anything else was coming. Daryl and I checked the perimeter in silence and continued that silence as we stood guard. “Ya haven't been eating.” I turned my head and looked over at Daryl. “What?” I asked. I heard him. I just don't want to talk about it.

I've been giving most, if not all, my food to Carl. There have been several times that I've caught him giving his mother his food, and she accepts it. Don't get me wrong, I understand she's eating for two but she shouldn't accept all his food. So I've been giving Carl mine to make sure he eats. He's a growing boy, and he needs the nutrients more. It's not like I don't eat at all. “Ya heard me. I know you give Carl your food.”

“Well, he's a growing boy, Daryl he needs to eat. He gives his mother his portion, and she takes it. I get she's pregnant and eating for two, but she should not be except her son's food. Besides, it's not like I don't eat anything.” I turned my head back to scan the dark woods. “Need to eat more than a small piece of meat or a piece of a protein bar.” I let a sigh out and shook my head. “I'm fine. Besides, it's not like we have a lot of food these days, Daryl.”

“I'll talk to Rick about Carl giving his food to his mother.” I shook my head and walked a little closer to him. “Don't do that. Things are already so tense between him and Lori. We don't need to make it worse.” Just by Daryl's body language, I could tell he was conflicted on what to do. “Rick still needs to know. I know Lori is pregnant, but she shouldn't be taking her son's food.” I shrugged, “I know this. But to be fair, I think Carl is telling her that it's extra.”

Five Months Later

Winter was finally turning into spring. The days were getting warmer, but the nights were still cold. Lori was about to pop, and we were still out on the road. Neither Daryl nor I had to tell Rick about Carl giving his mother his food. Rick had caught him one night, and things didn't end well. He and Lori ended up getting into a fight, but when it was discovered, Carl was actually telling her there was extra food, and things calmed down. Lori felt terrible about taking food from Carl and hasn't done so since. Now, she makes sure he eats first before she eats her own food.

We were bouncing back and forth, trying to find a place to settle. There were a few times we found potential places to stay, but each time, walkers would come. There was a neighborhood, one of those up scale ones that were gated. It looked like everyone had been evacuated early. It had been completely empty. We stayed there for a few weeks until a herd of walkers came through and found a weak spot that we had noticed in the fence that wrapped around the whole neighborhood.

Then, there was an old warehouse that had a chain linked fence around it. The same thing happened, a large herd, about half the size of the one at the farm, maybe a little smaller than half, came through. We were running around in circles at this point. At every turn, we ran into walkers. Like right now, we were in a house we just cleared. Everyone was sitting in the living room. Loei had a jar of peanut butter in her hand, Daryl was plucking the feathers off an owl he had killed, and Carl was opening a can of dog food.

We were all hungry and tired. It was non-stop moving and running. When Rick saw what Carl had, he took it from him and threw it in the fireplace, making everyone look up at the loud noise it made. A few minutes later we were grabbing our things and headed out the door to the cars. Walkers were starting to slowly surround the small farmhouse.

Once we were far enough away, we stopped on the side of the road to look over the map. Like I said before, we were just running in circles. While everyone else waited by the cars or went to the small break to wash up Rick, Daryl and I went on a little walk through the woods.

We were supposed to be hunting for food, but we were following old train tracks instead. Good thing we were because when we got to a small clearing in the trees and weeds, we discovered a prison just on the other side. The three of us looked at each other, coming to the same idea. We could probably take this place and clear the yard and maybe a cell block.

[seat-safety-switch]

Down on the farm, they used to have a saying. I don’t know what that saying is, because I was raised in a city, by loving parents who wanted more for me than to get crushed by a piece of industrial equipment at age 7. The fools. Ever since I’ve reached adulthood, I’ve been obsessed with the concept of farms. They’ve got storage space for cars. They’ve got shit breaking all day long that needs hack-job fixes. They’ve got storage space, for cars. Big Government isn’t coming by and rattling your cage over parking permits or draining coolant into wetlands, because they’re afraid you’ll murder them and hide their bodies inside a chicken coop. There’s room to park a bunch of cars.

Now, I still don’t live on a farm. There’s a couple reasons for that. Primarily, they’re expensive and smell bad. In fact, most of the farms around here have been silently bought up by enormous, semi-autonomous agriculture corporations, who hire workers to run the farm. No one lives on these farms, they just visit day to day like any average job, poking and prodding the livestock and crops as necessary. For months, the old Baker farm just outside the city limits would be completely unattended, except for one lonely security guard on Friday nights, who would do a circuit of the cornfield in his corporate diesel Cruze hatchback, looking for horny teens. This made the old Baker farm perfect for a little hanky-panky, me-style.

In my mind, I thought it would work like a time-share. I’d park my cars there during the winter, when no one was around, and get them the fuck out of there by the busy spring season. This would save untold hundreds of dollars in storage-unit fees, which was good. I was very tired of the storage companies lording it over us, chuckling and pocketing thick stacks of money as our economy ground to a halt and forced all of our cool junk into their vaults.

If I was really lucky, maybe my little trip to the farm would even make the bylaw officer in my neighbourhood think that I moved away or died, so he’d stop coming by every morning to ticket my shit over his morning Timmies coffee. There was just one problem: most (all?) of my cars didn’t move under their own power. That’s why they were being parked in the first place, because otherwise I’d be rotating them in and out, to throw off Special Constable Frank. I’d need something big to move them, and at the Baker farm, I found just that.

Now, of course I wasn’t “licensed” or even trained in the operation of a vintage ‘71 Chevrolet Titan semi truck, much less the car hauler trailer that I borrowed from the nearby Lexus dealer on the way. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years, it’s that farm life means you have to make do with what you have. For instance, as long as I jammed the shifter really fast into third gear I didn’t really have to up- or down-shift the rest of the trip. Little loud, though.

[thetruearchmagos]

On 'Energy Crystals'

Copying this over from a worldbuilding write up I posted on Discord!

Tagging @athenswrites @theprissythumbelina @hessdalen-globe @caxycreations @moremysteriesthantragedies @avrablake @thatndginger

While Energy Crystals are a very modern innovation, the pursuit for a crystal based means of high density energy storage is probably as old as the use of crystals in any of their myriad forms.

To skip the deep dive, 'magic crystals' operate through the highly ordered nature of their composition, a structure which extends beyond the three dimensions of the physical plane and which allows them to warp and rend the very fabric of the Underlay, that little understood realm of energy which permeates existence. In order to 'activate' their properties, however, energy in some form or another has to be supplied, 'forcing' the crystal's internal structure into the needed to act against the oppressive forces of the Underlay; heat, in the past, and these days truly massive amounts of electricity for the most intense applications.

A long noted characteristic of these crystals, however, has been their 'lag'. This effect describes the tendency for crystals to retain a small, rapidly decreasing degree of their powered properties even after their external energy source has been removed. The various physical characteristics of the crystal itself influences the degree of this lag, sheer size chief among them, which has at times been both a blessing and a curse for those using crystals for technical applications.

Still, it is not too difficult to see how a crystal's potential to retain energy might be a useful quality in and of itself. Various bodies have long attempted to harness this characteristic, but to little avail: having spent so long making crystals which efficiently utilised every scrap of energy fed to them to the fullest, it was very hard indeed to make one that would use no energy at all. Most interested parties would thus quickly decide to cut their losses early.

It would take modern developments in the field of micro-crystals and electrical-gate crystals to crack the problem. In the former field, a greater understanding of the internal structures of crystals at the most minute scale gave crystal forgers insight into the causes of crystal lag, and how crystals converted their input energy into work. The latter field was the result of the ability for crystals to act as incredibly efficient electrical conductors, leading to their application in the still nascent electronics and computing machine sector. Here, of course, understanding the interaction between crystal structures and electricity was key, as was minimising the 'waste' of a crystal's energy to activate the sorts of properties that in the past were their reasons for existence.

With the rise in this general understanding of just how a magic crystal worked, the secret to energy storage in crystals would be cracked in the 160s A.S. As with many technological developments, it was the United Commonwealth which would own the invention, lavishly funded from the sizeable cheque book of the Defence Consolidated Technical Establishment, whose leadership foresaw the many electricity intensive technologies poised to enter military use.

[saratinz]

Fine China

pairing ➩ Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, Natasha x Sam (Modern AU)

warnings ➩ depression, addiction, alcohol, pills, angst, sad ending, cheating

synopsis ➩ Based off 'Fine China' by Lana Del Rey

word count ➩ 1.9k

You stare at the white dress you once loved so dearly. “Yeah, of course you can have it, Natasha.” 

“I’m so sorry this happened to you again. I know what I’m asking is insensitive, but this, it really means a lot.” 

“It’s okay, Nat. You’re going to look stunning. I’ve been left on my wedding day, twice, think I have a problem, and until I figure that out, I can’t be anywhere near this shit.”

“Thank you so much. God I love you.”

“I love you too. I’m so happy for you.” 

“I know this is asking a lot, but will you be my maid of honor?”

“I’d love to.” You put on your best fake smile. But as soon as she leaves, you slide down your wall, screaming to numb the pain you’ve been through in 

Four years ago

I wore diamonds for the birth of your baby

For the birth of your son

Steve Rogers always wanted a child, just his fatherly nature I guess. His ex-wife, Margaret, has always been a third in your relationship. You get the call while getting your makeup and hair done, quickly getting off your chair to drive to the hospital. You were shocked that this baby is coming out, considering it a month before his due date. Peggy manages to look gorgeous even while going through one of the most painful things known to man. “Hey sweetheart, can we talk in private for a second?” Steve pulls you into the hall.

“Oh, of course.” 

On the same day, my husband-to-be

Packed his things to run

“I’m so sorry , Y/n, my family is the most important thing to me right now.”

“I thought I was your family.”

“I love them.”

“I know that but do you really, y’know, love her that way?”

“I do.”

“You were supposed to say that to me.” You half-heartedly chuckle.

“Can you not joke right now.”

“Fuck you Steve. I gave up everything for you, I listened to you, I stayed with you after you cheated on me and impregnated Peggy, I was even gonna raise a child with you at 25.”

Was bittersweet to say the least

One life begins, one comes undone

You drive away from the hospital, speeding home to drink copious amounts of alcohol.

I've always been a strong woman of faith

Strong like a tree, but the unlucky one

You haven’t cried in years. When you went through your first break-up, you vowed never to cry over a boy again. And you didn’t. But right now, in this situation, you figure that it constitutes a few tears.

I'm going down now

With all of my

You feel broken. After suppressing every painful event in your life for nine years, you finally express your emotions. It’s a rough night, and all you could do was cry until you couldn’t anymore.

Fine china and fresh linen

All of my dresses with them tags still on them

You get a storage unit, and keep everything from your wedding that never happened, hoping that one day, you would get to use it for real.

Fine china and dull silver

My white horses and my ivory almonds

“You’re a beautiful girl, sure you want to mess with this stuff.”

“Give me the goddamn pills, Luke.”

I guess they really got the best of us, didn't they?

They said that love was enough, but it wasn’t

You think of the time you almost broke up with Steve. It was when Peggy found out she was pregnant, but the two of you had been together for a year, meaning that he cheated without a doubt. Your friends tried to help, but the best they could muster was a question. “Do you love him?”

“I do, yeah.”

“Then maybe that’s your answer.”

The Earth shattered, the sky opened 

The rain was fire, but we were wooden

All hell broke loose, as all of your friends found out Steve left you. Some of them were understanding, some of them dropped him immediately. One of those being Bucky Barnes, who was the only person who didn’t talk to you like you could break at any moment. And over the next year, you fell in love, the next year you got engaged. And now, three years after Steve broke your heart, you find yourself getting ready to be wed. You can’t believe you’re finally going to live your dream. 

I wore diamonds for the day of our wedding

For our day in the sun

You felt beautiful in your dress. “Y/n . We need to talk.”

“Buck, you’re not supposed to see me, it’s like, bad luck or whatever.” You let out a little laugh. You were never the superstitious type.

On the same day, my mother-to-be said she wouldn't come

“My mom, she’s not coming.”

“Oh god, is she sick or something. It would be a little tricky, but we could figure out rescheduling.”

“No, she’s just refusing to come.”

“I thought your mom liked me. Did I do something wrong?”

“No, it’s not you, it’s just, I told her about your little pill problem.”

“What are you talking about”

“Don’t play dumb, I know you’re not on anti-depressants like you say. I may not be a doctor but I have Google.”

It's always been that way with me

No time for change, no time for fun

“Okay I’m sorry for lying, but what gave you the right to rifle through my stuff, and then talk to your mom  instead of me about it?”

“I can’t do this.”

“Can’t do what? Wait, you’re not talking about, no, what the fuck James? No, this, it can’t be happening again.”

It's always been that way, it seems

One love begins, one comes undone

“I’m so sorry, Y/n, I can’t do this anymore.  I can’t sit back and watch as you kill yourself.”

“Oh my god, so you’re leaving me because I like to relax.”

“It’s not just pills you’re addicted to, you’re addicted to me.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means you’re like a leach, sucking the life force out of me. You’re never satisfied.”

“I didn’t want you to leave like Steve did.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

“I do.”

“I’m never gonna hear you say those words, am I?”

“I don’t know, Y/n, maybe one day.”

I'm going down now

With all of my

“So, I’ll do whatever I have to, I wanna be with you, I’ll get help. I’ll go to therapy, I’ll do whatever it takes, just please. Please.”

“I love you, Y/n, I always will.”

Fine china and fresh linen

All of my dresses with them tags still on them

Back to your storage unit, everything goes. You really thought this was it. You’re a fucking idiot.

Fine china and dull silver

My white horses and my ivory almonds

You try to get clean, and you manage to stay that way for three months. But one day, when you couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky and your sponsor was on vacation, you take a little trip to your favorite dealer. “Hey, haven’t seen you in awhile. You getting sober or something?”

“Went to rehab, stayed off drugs for a guy. I’m just gonna ruin my chance with him, I guess.”

“You sure you wanna do that?”

“Fuck him, I need to think about me.”

I guess they really got the best of us, didn't they?

They said that love was enough, but it wasn’t

“I’m using again Bucky, and I’m not gonna stop.”

“Please don’t do this.”

The Earth shattered, the sky opened

The rain was fire, but we were wooden

“I’m sorry.” 

“Yeah, me too.”

Present day

All of my, all of my fine china

After five drinks and two pills, you get up on the little stage area that was set up.

All of my, all of my fine china

“Hey guys, as the maid of honor, I would like to say congratulations to my best friend and her wonderful new husband, Sam. But oh my god, if I hear anyone compliment the table cloth, dishes, decor, or god forbid the dress, I’m going to scream.”

All of my, all of my fine china

“Funny story actually, this was all supposed to be for my wedding. Bucky, where are you? Oh there he is. Handsome, right? Kind of an asshole but if you’re looking for a hook up, I highly recommend. He’s my ex who left me on our wedding day, so, yikes.”

Blue, ah, blue

“She stole my whole wedding. Hell she even stole the lingerie I was planning on wearing for my wedding night. So none of this planning is hers is what I’m trying to say. Guess I could be a fucking wedding planner or something. Ha, wouldn’t that be ironic, the girl who can’t seem to get married helping other people live her dream.”

All of my, all of my fine china

Natasha looks furious. But she didn’t want to stop you. She had done something pretty fucked up too, and even though you said you were okay, she knew you. She knew the pain you were going through. Not from experience though, only listening. She could never fully comprehend the damage done.

All of my, all of my fine china

You continue to embarrass yourself, but you’re too cross-faded to care.

Blue, ah

“Is anyone else still thinking about how weird it is that she’s wearing my underwear? I mean, I never wore them but it still seems a bit strange. Here’s a little secret, that’s her something blue.”

Fine china and fresh linen

All of my dresses with them tags still on them

The next morning, you wake with the worst hangover of your life. Oh shit, you ruined Nat’s wedding. As if things couldn’t get any worse, you’re not even in your apartment. Where the fuck are you?

Fine china and dull silver

My white horses and my ivory almonds

“Hey sleepyhead.” 

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“What the fuck happened last night?”

“You don’t remember? We had sex.”

“Oh god, what about Peggy?”

“She’s a bitch, I never should have left you.”

“Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.”

“What’s wrong baby?”

“You’re a terrible person. I need to go.” You scurry out of that hell-scape, cursing your drunk self.

I guess they really got the best of us, didn't they?

They said that love was enough, but it wasn’t

“I’d like to check into rehab again.” 

“That’s good Y/n.”

“I have one question, though.”

“What is it?”

“You were never gonna get back together with me, right? I mean it was pretty good incentive, but you were never serious.”

“No, we still have a chance.”

“Cut the shit Bucky. You don’t have to lie to me, just stop playing with my emotions.”

“I’m sorry. I really am.”

“Goodbye James.”

The Earth shattered, the sky opened

The rain was fire, but we were wooden

“Here you go. Everything you asked for is there.” Nat gives you boxes upon boxes of your wedding stuff back. 

Fine china, fine china, fine china

You break every plate, cup, and bowl.

Fresh linen, fresh linen, fresh linen

You burn every table cloth, napkin, and the dress you now hate with your whole heart.

Maybe one day you’ll get married, but you needed this stuff gone, and you needed to never think about it again. So far all you’ve gotten out of your engagements was depression, addiction, and some shards of fine china.

Masterlist / Spinoff series