#time attendance machine price

[lovifie]

Messy Eaters

Smut | 416 words | Masterlist

The 141 have to attend a gala dinner.

Really fancy, with lots of protocols, too many forks and too little time.

That's you give them a speed-up masterclass on etiquette.

With Gaz and Price, it goes by in a blur, both men are perfectly attentive, making sure to ask any question and thanking you once it is done.

With Ghost and Soap? You wish you could sink the fish fork in his eyes.

"Which one is for meat again?" "The one with two spikes"

"Which one do you use for chips?" "There won't be chips."

"What's this one for?" "That's a toothpick, you brought it here"

"Why are there so many glasses?" "For all the different drinks."

"Where is the pint glass?" "There are no pint glasses on this dinner."

"You seem stressed" "You reckon?"

It's not your fault that they are both such messy eaters, but deep down you love it.

Especially when they start to take turns to go down on you, the sloppiest head of your life.

They have you laid on your back, mock glasses and places thrown out of the way. Your legs on each side of his head, resting on his shoulders, while he sits on his chair eating your cunt like it was the main dish.

Slurping up your juices, face buried deep between your folds, the nose from the broken nose rubbing against your clit making your legs spasm as his hands grab your thighs keeping you in place.

He wishes he could hear your pretty moans if it wasn't for the mutt making out with you. You can't help but open your mouth when Simon's tongue moves deeper into your gummy walls, and Johnny dives into your mouth with his tongue.

Such a nasty and disgusting kiss that has your head feeling fuzzy, there is spit running down your cheek, his tongue deep I'm your mouth checking every single tooth on it, sucking your tongue onto his mouth, moaning into you as if he was the one getting head, his hand resting over your breast massaging it continuously like a machine.

You have lost count of how many times you have cum around Simon tongue, the little mat under your body soaked with your juices and saliva, and you think they will finally take pity on you. Until Simon pats your thigh before standing up, looking at Soap and motioning to the chair with his head.

"C'mon, Johnny. Your turn, we need to practice for the dinner."

[muniimyg]

♡ 02: how you talk so sweet when you're doin' bad things

series m.list // taglist

note: ahh !!! thank u all for all the love with pt 1 :) drama begins in pt 3 !!! enj their good moments while it lasts (aka this pt) lmk what u think of their dynamic & if u have any predictions for whats to cum ;) HAHAH mwaaa

also !! happy birthday @jkslvsnella 🌟 thank u for always reading and loving my work 💛

warnings: mean!jk exposes oc (she's a virgin) ,, banter

//

the dim neon lights of the arcade cast a playful glow over the group as they gather by the bar. laughter and overlapping chatter fill the air, but jungkook’s eyes dart toward the entrance, scanning every face that walks in.

he blinks, trying to recenter himself.

why the fuck is he waiting for you?

“do you guys want to play a hoop shoot round?” yoongi suggests, leaning lazily against the counter. “loser buys the next round.”

the guys snicker but agree. without much discussion, they begin heading toward the games, but jungkook lingers behind, hesitating to speak.

there’s a weird feeling that stirs inside him.

he wants to stay and wait for you—wants everyone to stay and wait for you (though he knows how ridiculous that sounds).

his mouth opens, about to call them back, when—

“___!” jimin’s voice cuts through the noise. “over here! great timing!”

jungkook stiffens, tilting his head and clearing his throat as he notices you walking in.

you weave through the scattered crowd, waving casually to the group. your jacket hangs lazily off one shoulder, your hair is slightly windswept, and your lips are parted, like you’re already preparing some half-assed excuse.

“you’re late,” jungkook mutters, his tone sharp as you greet the others with warm hugs and him with a smug smile.

“no shit, mr. know-it-all,” you shoot back, rolling your eyes before awkwardly shifting closer to him for a quick, half-hearted hug.

he doesn’t even unfold his arms, patting your back stiffly—once, twice, three times.

“whatever.”

“didn’t know you took attendance. god, what don’t you do?”

“be late,” he quips, voice clipped.

you scoff, pulling away and swatting his chest. “nerdy of you, but whatever. we all have to accept our flaws one day. acknowledging them is the first step, or so they say.”

“it’s courtesy to show up on time,” he snaps, leaning casually against a nearby pinball machine. his eyes rake over you like he’s trying to solve a puzzle he’s losing patience for. “figured you’d get lost or trip over your own feet.”

“oh, bite me,” you retort, stepping closer and crossing your arms. “maybe find something better to do than waiting for me, hmm? something better to do than—”

before you can finish, a rowdy group stumbles toward the air hockey table behind you, shoving their way through the already cramped space.

jungkook moves without thinking, his hands firm on your waist as he pulls you aside and switches places with you.

“move,” he says bluntly, his grip barely lingering before he steps away again.

you freeze, your words dying in your throat. the touch—the casual way he did it, the way his hands fit so naturally—throws you off. your heart stutters for reasons you can’t quite name.

“what are you—”

“you’re in the way,” he interrupts, already back to leaning against the pinball machine like nothing happened.

“shit, jungkook,” you manage, trying to sound unaffected. “you can’t just move me like that. i almost thought you cared about me.”

“would you rather get knocked into the air hockey table?” he says flatly. “didn’t think so.”

you narrow your eyes at him, brushing past whatever just passed between you.

“fine,” you say with exaggerated calm, stepping away. “thank you… i guess.”

“what was that?”

“i said what i said.”

“say it again.”

“no.”

“don’t make me beg for something i deserve,” he groans, his tone a mix of mock irritation and teasing.

you roll your eyes. “sure… i’ll say it again—for the right price.”

“oh?” his brow lifts, and he’s already following after you. “how much are you charging these days?”

you turn back to glare at him, making a face as he smirks.

what you don’t see, what no one else notices, is how closely jungkook walks behind you as you move through the crowd. his hand hesitates near your waist again before he drops it, settling instead for angling his body, subtly shielding you from the chaos of the arcade.

it’s instinctive, unconscious—a quiet sort of care that he’d never admit to. but it’s just how jungkook is when you aren’t looking.

the air buzzes with the sounds of arcade games—buzzers, dings, and conversation on top of conversation. by now, the group has gravitated towards the hoop-shoot machines, their competitive banter echoing as they took turns missing shots.

when nam joon’s ball bounces dramatically off the rim, nearly taking out jimin, they all collapse into laughter.

"okay, okay!" taehyung claps his hands. "before anyone gets concussed, let's take a group photo!"

everyone gathers in front of the machines, huddling close together. you find yourself standing beside jungkook, his towering figure crowding your space as the guys shuffle to fit into the frame.

“move in,” jin calls out, holding up his phone. “no dead space.”

before you can step away, taehyung and yoongi each grab one of your shoulders, pushing you into jungkook’s side. his arm brushes yours, and when you glance up, he’s already rolling his eyes.

"stop squirming," he mutters.

"stop breathing down my neck," you bite back, earning a stifled laugh from yoongi.

“not my fault you’re short as fuck.”

“what about me do you not have a problem with, nerd?”

just as jungkook is about to tell you off, hobi hits his stomach and hisses at him. 

“shut the fuck up, smile, and—”

hobi bumps his hip with jungkook’s, causing him to lean closer to you. your head tilts and so does his. he clears his throat as he regains his balance. you continue to smile, pretending not to notice him looking at you. 

as the group poses, jin snaps several photos before pulling the phone down to review the shots. as everyone leans in to check the screen, a chorus of teasing begins.

"aw, look at that!" taehyung says, his grin spreading like wildfire as he leans closer to the phone screen. "this is a moment for the scrapbook. you two look so cute together."

the corner of jimin’s mouth twitches as he leans over taehyung’s shoulder, squinting at the photo before letting out a dramatic gasp.

“wait, is this… is this our it couple debuting right here? how did we miss this? it’s always those fucking enemies to lovers stories that hit… this could be it. oh my god!"

yoongi, not one to miss a beat, smirks from the side. 

“don't need to start. pretty sure the fanbase already exists.”

jin snorts. “don’t expose our late night conversations, bro. that’s our special bonding time.”

yoongi hisses at jin, smacking the back of his head for saying it so weird. 

"someone call dispatch," nam joon adds, cackling. "they're going viral as we speak."

"you’re joking,” you groan, face already warming as the guys snicker. “stop acting like it’s some movie poster. it’s just a group picture and—look at that! jungkook is looking at me like i’m stinky.”

“you are stinky.” jungkook scoffs.

you shove him playfully. “shut up.”

“oh no, it’s definitely poster-worthy,” jimin chimes in, nudging jungkook’s arm as he grins like a proud parent. "you can practically feel the sparks flying. jungkook’s over there pretending to hate it, but look at his hand. hovering like it’s meant to be."

"right?” hobi quips. “look at the way he’s leaning into her—”

jungkook glares. “hyung, you pushed me—”

“—bro’s living the rom-com life and doesn’t even know it.” hobi finishes. 

"yeah," yoongi deadpans, his lip curling in a mock-serious expression as he gestures vaguely at the photo. "what trope are you guys?”

"trope?" you snort, shooting a glance at Jungkook. “that’s going too far. i can’t be associated with him to that point. even angels like me have limits..”

"awh, don't ruin it," jimin teases. “you two look like you were made to stand next to each other. it’s fate, ___.”

"fate?" jungkook finally chimes in, his brow quirking as he scoffs. “more like bad luck. uglyass picture, by the way. jump-scare. trigger-warning. photoshop her out, please.”

his words are sharp, but the teasing rolls on, taehyung clapping jungkook on the back as he leans in closer. 

“don’t fight it, man. just admit it—you’re glowing.”

“you’re drunk.” jungkook grumbles, crossing his arms.

but even as he tries to brush it off, you catch the way his jaw ticks, the way his ears turn a faint shade of red. it almost makes you want to keep the teasing going.

almost.

you stretch over and take a proper look. 

your shoulders are pressed against jungkook’s, his hand awkwardly hovering near your back as if unsure where to put it. it’s ridiculous, but you decide to lean into the joke.

“awh,” you say, nudging him with a smirk. “wait. we do look cute together. look at you—nerdy boy finally getting close to the pretty girl. must be the highlight of your life.”

jungkook’s jaw tightens, and for a second, you think he might just let it slide. But then, his eyes narrow, and the smugness in his tone cuts deeper than you expect.

“yeah?” he says, his voice low and dripping with sarcasm. “because the pretty girl who’s still a virgin at twenty-four is such a catch, right? must be fun carrying the weight of no guy ever wanting that kind of pressure.”

the air stills.

“what?” jungkook asks, unsure of why everyone’s mood suddenly shifted. “guys, we don’t need to hold ___’s hand for this. her situationships aren’t real. no guy wants her and it’s because of all her fucking issues… so don’t tease me about shit like that. why would i want her? she’s too fucked up.”

your heart sinks as the laughter dies around you, the guys exchanging awkward glances. you force a tight smile, shrugging as if the jab didn’t just land in the worst way possible.

“ha… ha… yeah. sure. what he said,” you mutter, slipping out of the group without looking back.

you weave through the crowd, the din of the arcade becoming background noise to the rush of your thoughts. yoongi and nam joon sigh and excuse themselves to follow you. 

“fuck,” taehyung groans at jungkook. “for a nerd, you aren’t that smart."

jungkook throws his head back.

"okay, fine. i went too far."

taehyung forces a laugh and pats jungkook's shoulder. "i just... i don't why do you always shit the bed when it comes to ___. would it kill you consider her feelings once in a while?"

"she started it—"

"we started it," taehyung corrects him. "you fuck it up and then we have to fix it. why can't we start it and you figure it out?"

"what's there to figure out?"

taehyung sighs.

"seriously, what's there to figure out?" jungkook repeats, his voice rough with frustration, though there’s a slight tension in his jaw, as if he’s trying to keep himself in check.

taehyung runs a hand through his hair like he’s had this conversation a million times before. “you overthink everything, man. just… talk to her. it’s not that hard.”

jungkook scoffs. "i talk to her."

"yeah right," taehyung shoots back, now leaning in closer, his eyes narrowing with a mixture of concern and exasperation. "she isn't gonna stick around forever... especially with all the shit you pull. is it that hard to show that you care for her? even just a little bit? you can even fake it for all we care... just... stop doing this. stop fucking it up."

jungkook opens his mouth to retort, but then he just...

doesn’t.

he falls silent, his gaze drifting over to where you’re standing, still laughing with yoongi, oblivious to the conversation happening behind her. his expression softens for a moment, but the tension doesn’t fully leave his shoulders.

“... i don’t know what to say to her,” jungkook mutters after a long pause, his voice quieter this time, almost vulnerable.

taehyung rolls his eyes, his voice taking on a teasing edge again.

"i'm not asking you to be perfect," taehyung says, his tone suddenly serious. "i just want you to try.”

jungkook's eyes narrow, but he doesn’t argue.

he knows taehyung’s right.

and the idea of trying—really trying—is both terrifying and somehow comforting. it’s just a matter of taking the first step.

"alright, alright. i get it." jungkook sighs, running a hand through his hair. "but if i mess it up again…"

“you will,” taehyung says with a grin, smacking him on the back. “and when you do, we’ll be here to clean up your mess.”

jungkook groans. "great. thanks. god, you guys are impossible."

taehyung just laughs, clapping him on the shoulder.

"that’s what friends are for."

“that one’s cute,” you say softly, pointing to a pastel plushie trapped inside the glass case. “but aren’t these things rigged?” 

yoongi glances at the plushie, then back at you, offering a faint smile. “hello kitty? can’t you just buy it in store?”

“it’s different.”

“how so?”

“winning it is better. means more.”

he laughs at you. ruffling your hair, he asks; “think you can win it?”

“probably not,” you admit with a dry laugh, rubbing the back of your neck. “i suck at these things.”

unbeknownst to you, jungkook has followed, lingering a few steps behind. 

he watches quietly as you and yoongi chat, his arms folded across his chest, his usual cocky posture softened just enough to give off a more contemplative vibe. his gaze shifts to the hello kitty plushie you pointed out, taking in every detail—the soft pastel fabric, the little bow. 

his jaw tightens.

for a second, he looks almost… distant. something flickers across his face—a mix of regret, maybe? or determination? it’s hard to tell, and he’s quick to push the thought aside. he can’t figure out why this damn hello kitty plushie is bothering him, but it does.

his hands shift in his pockets, fingers brushing against the cool edges of his arcade card. the sound of you and yoongi laughing lightly as you move on to a different machine pulls him out of his trance. 

he’s still standing there, staring at the claw machine, his mind reeling.

get it together, he tells himself. it's a stupid fucking hello kitty plushie.

but as the two of you move further away, jungkook finds his feet taking him toward the claw machine. his body moves on its own, a subtle, almost unconscious determination settling into his posture. he steps up to the machine, his heart thumping a little louder than usual.

with a quick flick of his wrist, he taps the arcade card to the screen, paying for a round. The soft beep of the machine filling the air is oddly satisfying. he glances at the claw, watches it shift slightly in the plastic case, and his mind sharpens. the whole world narrows down to this one moment—the claw, the plushie, and the stupid, ridiculous thought that maybe, just maybe, it would mean something.

he leans in a little closer to the machine, his focus narrowing as his fingers hover just over the controls. his chest tightens, just a little.

but there’s something about this—about trying—that feels...

new.

almost like he's playing for something that’s not just a game.

as the arcade starts to empty out, the night comes to an end.

the group begins to break into separate plans. some were heading out for more drinks, the usual late-night crowd craving more chaos, while others, like you and jungkook, were heading home. yoongi, standing beside you both, clapped jungkook on the shoulder and offered a casual “see you later,” his eyes lingering a moment too long on the tension that still hung between you two.

by now, jungkook had tried to apologize multiple times throughout the night. too many times to count—but each time, you’d brushed him off, walking away before he could finish his words.

it was the same pattern that had played out earlier, with him following close behind, trying to make up for whatever had gone wrong, but you’d always managed to slip out of his reach, words left unsaid and apologies unacknowledged.

as you stepped outside into the crisp night air, the glow of neon signs casting faint colors over the sidewalk, you took a deep breath. the cool wind ruffled your hair, and you tucked a stray strand behind your ear, eyes darting to the ground, avoiding jungkook’s gaze.

“my hinge crush of the week wants to meet up… so, bye!” jimin called out, adjusting his jacket as he moved toward the waiting uber.

the others offered their farewells, the air filled with laughs and promises to meet again soon.

jungkook is quiet, his eyes still on you, a knot of frustration building in his stomach.

as you’re about to turn away, he finally speaks. his voice is soft but firm.

“can i drive you home?”

you don’t even look at him, a slight shake of your head as you took a step back.

“i’m good. thanks for the offer.”

he takes a slow step forward, determination flashing in his eyes.

“shit, ___. come on, don’t be like that. it’s late. i’m not letting you walk home alone.”

“i’m fine,” you reassure him again, taking another step away. “they’re all gone. you can stop pretending you care—w-whoa—“

but as you turn to leave, the way you step gets caught on a loose patch of pavement, and before you can stop yourself, you stumble forward. your heart lurches in your chest as your body lurches toward the ground. 

but a strong and steady hand grips your waist, pulling you back against a solid chest.

“fuck, watch your step—” jungkook mutters, his voice lower now, a hint of something you couldn’t quite place in it. his grip tightened just enough to keep you from stumbling again.

you freeze for a second, your breath catching as his fingers brushed against your side, his body warm against yours. the shock of his touch sent a strange shiver down your spine, but before you could react, his voice comes again, this time with a soft but unmistakable smirk.

“you’re all out of choices now.”

his words hang in the air as he takes your waist, gently but firmly guiding you toward his car. the playful edge in his voice made your stomach flip.

he doesn’t wait for a response.

he pulls you closer as you walk together. 

you want to pull away. 

you want to protest, but something about the way he holds you—steady, unwavering—makes it impossible to do anything but follow. 

so, you give in. 

you slide into the passenger seat of jungkook’s car, the leather cold against your legs as you settle in. the familiar scent of his cologne fills the small space, mixing with the faint scent of his car’s interior. before you can even close the door, jungkook is already moving to the driver’s side, slipping in next to you with practiced ease.

he turns the key, the engine rumbling to life, and immediately, he leans over to help you with your seatbelt. his hand brushes against yours, sending a strange flutter through your chest as his fingers fumble with the latch, and you try not to think too much about how gentle his touch is.

“thanks,” you mumble, turning your head toward the window, avoiding his gaze. 

the tension between you two still lingers, thick and heavy, but neither of you says anything, and soon the quiet hum of the engine fills the air instead.

the drive starts out like most others, the city lights blinking past the windows as jungkook takes a turn, his hands steady on the wheel. but then, as the cool night air seeps in through the slightly cracked window, you suddenly feel the chill of the evening air hit your skin, a shiver running down your spine.

you don’t even have to say anything. without a word, jungkook pulls off his jacket, glancing over at you. 

“you cold?” he asks, his voice low, almost concerned, but his eyes are still focused on the road.

before you can respond, his white jacket is draped over your shoulders like a blanket. 

it’s warm, soft—still holding the faint trace of his warmth—and for a moment, you find yourself frozen, not sure whether you should pull it off or accept the comfort. but it’s his gesture, the way he’s silently taking care of you, and the faint thought that maybe he’s not such an ass after all, that makes you just pull the jacket tighter around yourself, not saying anything.

the silence stretches on, with only the sound of his car’s engine and the soft tunes filling the air, low music that drowns out everything else.

it’s a little uncomfortable. 

a little too close. 

and yet, somehow, you don’t mind it.

minutes pass, and you can’t help but notice how the buildings are getting fewer, how the city streets are slipping behind, and suddenly, it hits you—he’s not turning into your neighborhood.

“wait,” you finally speak up, your voice sounding strangely foreign in the quiet car. “you just passed my place.”

he doesn’t even glance over at you, just keeps driving, his eyes focused on the road ahead. 

“i know.”

“then where are you going?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, but a flicker of annoyance laces your tone. “jungkook, what the hell?”

“the only way for you to talk to me,” he says, his voice calm but with a touch of something else beneath it. 

something you can’t quite place.

“what?” you blink, confusion clouding your thoughts. “this is considered kidnapping.”

jungkook chuckles, the sound low and almost playful.

“only way for you to talk to me, like i said.”

you narrow your eyes at him, a mix of frustration and something else building inside you. 

“you’re seriously driving me around for what, exactly? to waste gas? to waste your time?”

“to wait for you.”

“oh my god,” you stress. “you and your fucking words.”

he smirks. “are they working?”

you gulp. 

“come on, ___. act like a bitch all night, i don’t care… but you’re gonna talk to me.”

you’re quiet for a moment, staring out the window, watching the city blur past. the absurdity of the situation sinks in, but it’s also hard to ignore the fact that you’re starting to feel a strange sense of... comfort in his presence.

“fine,” you finally say, voice quiet but sharp. “what do you want me to say, huh? you’ve been apologizing all night and i’ve been brushing you off. you said what you said. it’s done.”

jungkook shifts in his seat, and for the first time, you notice how his grip tightens on the wheel, how his jaw clenches ever so slightly. 

“keep talking.”

“i’m done.”

“no,” he insists. “i don’t care what you say… i just need you to talk to me, ___. that’s all.”

you don’t respond right away, not sure how to react to that admission, or if it’s even true. but the way his words hang in the air, the sincerity behind them, makes you want to crack open. 

makes you want to say something—anything—but the walls are still up.

“do you want me to fuck you or something?” 

your eyes widen and your throat goes dry. 

what the fuck did he just say?

“excuse me?” 

jungkook then pulls over, parking his car at some random street. his car lights and the lamppost nearby are the only light sources… but that doesn’t stop you from knowing how close he is to you. you don’t need much light—you feel it. you feel his presence. 

“is that why your panties are in a twist? you need dick or something? you’ve been acting weird since you overheard me fucking—”

“i don’t want to know her name.” 

jungkook blinks at you. 

“... so you are bothered by her.”

you pause. 

“n-no. no, i’m not. it’s just… weird. i don’t want to know because i don’t want to know.”

“okay,” jungkook nods. “can i know something then?”

you hesitate. 

“do you forgive me yet? i… i fucked up. i’m sorry, __. seriously. that wasn’t cool of me.” 

you take a breath in. 

“i forgive you,” you admit. “but be honest with me. did you mean it?”

jungkook shakes his head profusely. 

“no,” he confesses. “no, i didn’t mean it. i think it’s cute that you’re a virgin—”

“stop!” you cry, throwing your hands to cover your face. “shut up.”

he laughs, finding your panic a little cute. 

“what? you never get horny?” 

you drop your hands, completely dumbfounded at how this conversation has unfolded in a matter of minutes. 

“i do,” you tell him. 

“with what? with who?” 

you tilt your head and squint at him. 

“curious?”

“disgusted, actually.” he mocks you. 

you can’t help but let out a laugh.  

then, a silence falls upon you two. 

but… it’s an okay kind. the kind where you two aren’t mad at each other and everything is truly lighthearted. it’s a rare kind of atmosphere for you two share. 

the tension that had once been suffocating now feels more like a slow burn, simmering quietly in the space between you. it’s strange, this shift. but it’s also... comforting.

in a way, it’s like stepping onto solid ground after floating in the middle of an ocean for too long.

you glance over at jungkook, his profile soft in the dim light from the streetlamps. his fingers are gripping the steering wheel lightly, his knuckles slightly pale, like he’s trying to keep himself grounded too. he’s not saying anything, but his presence is loud. in some ways, that’s all you need. 

that he’s here. 

that you’re both here, together, after all the back and forth, all the words exchanged, the small cracks and the moments of silence.

the question comes out before you can stop it, and you almost want to take it back the second it leaves your mouth. 

but you’re already committed. 

"think i could do it?" you say, voice softer than you intended, more vulnerable than you meant.

jungkook shifts in his seat slightly, his eyes flicking toward you.

“do what?"

"get you to want me?"

for a split second, you think you’ve gone too far. 

jungkook is quiet for a long time, and you can feel the weight of his gaze on you. he doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. it’s like he’s weighing the question, figuring out if you mean it. if it’s just some fleeting thought, or if you’re really standing here, raw and honest, in the middle of it all.

and then he speaks, his voice low but steady, a hint of something in it that you can’t quite place.

“why would you want that?”

the question catches you off guard, and for a moment, you’re unsure of how to respond. but then you think about it, really think about it. 

"i don’t know."

the vulnerability is almost too much, too raw. 

it feels like every inch of you is laid bare, exposed in a way you weren’t sure you could handle. you stare at your hands, anything to avoid the intensity of his gaze, but it’s there, lingering in the quiet air between you. it fills the space, like you can feel every word left unsaid pressing against your chest.

jungkook doesn’t say anything right away, the silence stretching long enough that you start to wonder if maybe you said the wrong thing. maybe you pushed too far, too fast.

but then, he speaks.

"wanna find out?"

his voice is low, almost teasing, but there's something else there too—something that makes your heart skip a beat. 

you glance up at him, your eyes meeting his again, and you realize in that moment that this is where it all comes together. the question, the hesitation, the rawness of it all. 

he’s not pulling away, not like you expected.

he’s waiting…

for you.

[lethalchiralium]

Waiting Room | Happiness Series

a/n: yes, i’m posting twice in the same month! crazy lol (always thanking my lovely @as-is-above-so-below for editing)

warnings: mentions of kidnapping, medical stuff, injuries, simon spiraling

The ICU is bare at this time of night. There are no alarms for nurses to attend to, and the lights are dimmed. The doors shut, and meal trays were taken away hours ago. Triangle lights above the doors are filled in with red or green lights. The only sound in the corridor is of boots thumping against the floor.

Calloused hands gripped the nurse’s counter. Your name prattled quickly off his tongue with a question of where you were. A room named off, and he was already out of sight, running and escaping the nurse calling him to come back. When he reached your room, his hand didn’t tremble as it did the whole way to the hospital. He calmly and slowly pushed the door open.

All he saw was no bed, and John Price sitting on the couch below the window, hunched over and murmuring into the phone against his ear. He looked up and ended the call, standing quickly to walk towards him.

“Simon-”

“Where is she?”

“Still in surgery.”

“What the fuck happened?”

Price stiffened slightly, and the air between them suddenly stifled. Simon’s dry eyes stared him down, and Price could feel his failure crushing him. He promised to keep them safe and sound, yet here they were, barely thirty minutes into emergency surgery before your husband arrived.

“According to Laswell, she made them take Winnie to the park–her and Roach. She was home with Mel and König when they were ambushed.hey shot him, and took the girls.” He looked down at his phone, then pulled up the pictures of the damage to his front entrance–showing them to Simon. “…Your father took them to a cabin in the Lakes District witht he intention of selling her and Melody to traffickers, in a bid to exploit you for money.”

His heart began to race, hard, like a hammer against museum glass. Shattering it into his ribcage, the thumps of his lungs against his liver and spine like an out-of-control wave.

“She escaped with Melody, and uh… well.” Price swiped, and Simon was met with a caved-in face. But, he picked out the silvery scars on his father’s forehead from when he beat him himself, many years ago. “She beat the shit out of him.”

“Is he dead?”

“He is.”

Pride would be the word he was looking for, if not for how intense the injuries were to his father’s face. Your hands must be mush. “Good.”

“She was found in a valley. She tucked Melody in a dense fir tree; she has some scrapes and bruises, and was freezing to the touch, but we found her. She was calling for your wife.” Price slid the phone into his pocket, settling back on his heels. “Only reason we found them was because she was crying. She’s upstairs in the NICU; Laswell and Roach are there with Winnie, whenever you’re ready to see them.”

“Okay.”

Yet, he made no hurry to move from his spot, hovering in the center of the near-empty ICU room, the space left for your bed, the machines that would be attached to you, and the fear that would radiate off of you and permeate the silence like no other sound. Could he leave this spot to check on his children? Could he escape the betrayal he indirectly caused when he failed to protect you? Would he be able to pretend that he isn’t full of rage for his superiors, barring him from keeping his promise? But, should he be able to stay upset with Price, his closest friend, in finding and saving his wife and child?

Could, would, should. All words with no meaning without action.

Simon’s eyes met John’s, and a brief silence fell upon them.

“Go see the girls, Simon.”

There wasn’t even a moment of hesitation, “I can’t.”

John didn’t even breathe before speaking again, “Then stay. I will go sit with them.” He quickly ushered Simon into the chair he had occupied only moments before. Simon practically collapsed into it. His head in his hands, heart torn into shreds of silken fabric, drowning in a sea of despair. The thin plastic chair would do nothing to soothe his aching bones, his body a fresh arrival from London to base an hour ago. Never did he imagine he would have to rush home, in the midst of a panic attack over losing you the way he lost Grace, losing another unborn baby, and his infant. He didn’t dare pretend like he could hold this weight, the fear, the panic, the imagination of the sound of your screams.

There, in the white chair after thirty-six hours of being awake, he watched John leave him alone. And there, leaned over his knees, he let out whimpers that sounded much like the ones that escaped him as a child.

He didn’t wake again until he heard a collection of clicking. His arms tightened across his chest as he heard footsteps fade away. He rolled his head up before opening his eyes - all he saw was the hospital bed, and your figure covered by thick blankets, nodes pressed onto your forehead like thorns on a rose, a breathing tube taped to your chapped lips, and a level of calm on your face that he’d seen only a few times. The sound of the chair screeching across the floor, closer to the bed, closer to the iodine smell that permeated the room from you. His hand slipped under the warming blankets, lifting it to seek out your arm, gazing at the wrapping on your hand before he settled his own on the undamaged skin of your forearm. Covering you again, he silently thanked the nurse for keeping the bed rail tucked away. He leaned forward and settled his head against his arm - listening to the soft wheeze of the breathing machine.

His mind was void of words, but his tongue spoke from the root of his pain, just a gentle, “I failed you.”

In the dim light from above the bed, Simon’s thumb traced warm circles on your lukewarm skin, and he closed his eyes. He couldn’t remember before he left for the hospital, couldn’t remember the mission, only…emptiness. An overwhelming urge to vomit ichor into his lap as he sped through red lights. A softened part inside his stone-cold heart rotted, black like tar, gooey and burning every inch of his injured rib cage.

His lungs filling with warm breaths, fighting to ignore the iodine stench only found him asleep again, body hunched over as if to find some solace in protecting you now - when the void of his betrayal burned harsher than the dance of bourbon on his tongue.

Simon doesn’t greet your brother, and doesn’t dare move his temple from the blanket tucked beside his head, eyes glued to the TV in the dusty corner of the room. Below it hung a whiteboard detailing your name, age, gender, and nurses. Following that was a rotation with the times they would be by for checks, medication, replacing the cold blankets with warm ones, and moving you so bed sores don’t grow on your already fragile skin. The BBC show wasn’t anything interesting, not his favorite but something to do that wasn’t throwing up what little breakfast he had into the trash can.

He’d been visiting Mellie the morning before, brought in by Price after she was discharged. Her one-day hospital stay was officially over, and he had finally seen her - but guilt nestled in his esophagus as he pressed his nose into her scalp, her little body curled as far as it could into his chest. He would have been a better father to tend to her first, but the thought of losing you was more apocalyptic than he ever imagined. He couldn’t leave this room, could barely piss in the bathroom without the door open to keep an eye on you, and barely spoke to anyone who came in; whether it be a nurse or the task force, they were all given silence in exchange for their pleas for him to go home, take a shower, get a fresh set of clothes.

“You smell like shit, dude.”

Jake, your older brother, moved a chair beside Simon on his right, his hand gently patting your ankle as he sat. Your husband may have snapped at him if he wasn't absent from his mind. Simon was nestled in a deep corner of his consciousness, only pretending to be human for his friends and children as he rotted beside you.

He didn’t answer his brother-in-law, eyes flickering from character to character on the screen, as if that was a good-enough distraction from his painful thoughts.

“That Soap guy said you haven’t showered in four days. You smell like it, go take a shower.”

Simon huffed out a humorless chuckle. “Not leavin’ her.”

Jake paused for a moment, pensive for just a millisecond. “The bathroom is right there. Yes, she’s protected at all times with you here, but she’s safe when I’m here too. So go. I’m sure she wouldn’t want to smell your ass when she wakes up.”

“Fuck off, Jake.”

“You have to at least wipe down if I’m going to sit next to you. You reek.”

“Then don’t.”

“Not a chance, bud.”

A gentle but firm hand settled on Simon’s shoulder, and he barely reacted, only a rumble of disapproval from his throat. He wanted to wretch his shoulder backwards, get Jake’s hand off, scream at him, ask him what makes him think he’s right. Ask what made him think he truly knew the answer to Simon’s mistake, miscalculation, the broken promise that lay like glass at his feet. What makes him think that Simon could accept his help at all?

He would’ve fought his brother-in-law off if there was any point, but he had been sitting at your bedside for two days straight and you hadn’t woken up yet - even when they shined lights in your pupils, checked your wounded hand, adjusted nodes on your forehead, checked the back of your head. So Simon found himself standing, Jake’s hands ushering him to the bathroom, but he slammed his hand against the door when Jake tried to close it.

“Leave it open. Wanna see her.”

Jake didn’t make a sound, just gave an understanding nod. “Try to use the curtain. I’d like to avoid seeing your dick, and I’m sure the nurses would appreciate it.”

Simon doesn’t even remember keeping the curtain open, getting under the hot spray, and just… standing there. The water hit the crown of his head, spilling down and over his face, his chest, his stomach - his body ached from the lowest muscles in his calves to the tenderness nestled in the nape of his neck, yet he could feel nothing in between. No tremor of his lungs, no twitch in his bad knee, no rumble of his heartbeat. Even as the scalding water cascaded over his lips, eyes, and cheeks, he felt nothing. No prick in his eye to cry, as if he had already cried everything out and had nothing left to give.

There was nothing in this hospital room shower, just a shell of a man who wanted nothing more than to switch places with you.

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Mess with her hair.”

The wrapping around your head was changed this morning, leaving more of your hair visible, and Jake was combing it with the shitty brush he bought down at the gift shop. “She always had a thing for her hair to be untangled. It bothered her a lot as a kid.” He set the brush down by your side, his fingers quickly remembering the braiding motion as he continued to speak softly, “Learned how to braid on her dolls so I could braid her hair for her. She didn’t like Mom or Dad doing it, only me.”

Simon rested his head on his arm again, watching the morning news. “Looks like shit.”

“I’m out of practice. Like you could do any better.”

“I have two daughters. I can do better.”

Jake could only half chuckle, almost lifeless. For a few moments, the only sounds were the breathing machine, the rustle of your hair, and footsteps approaching the door. Simon raised his head, watching over you like a hawk as the door creaked open; his hackles relaxed instantly as Winnie bounded in, followed by Price, who held Mellie. Simon was quick to sit back, allow his child to climb into his lap, and bury her face in his neck - he cradled Winnie close, kissing her hair and reclining back.

Her hair was in a messy ponytail, curls unruly and Simon felt acidic bile creep up his throat when she started crying.

She couldn’t say a word; neither could he, when he truly needed to. He needed to comfort his daughters, tell them that everything would be okay, that the doctors are taking care of Mama. He should be taking accountability with his children for failing to uphold his promises, yet, he kept his lips pressed to his eldest’s hair. His hand rubbed light circles on her shoulder blade, his eyes flickering to his brother-in-law and then his brother-in-arms. His infant was curled identically into Price’s chest, her little fists grabbing at the worn Metallica shirt, curls finger-brushed, onesie covered by a thick coat. Simon’s eyes fell back to you, the braid settled against your shoulder as Jake moved to the side, gently rubbing your bicep for a moment.

“You know, it’s been a long time since I’ve been able to take care of her hair,” Jake mumbled. Simon didn’t miss the tears that rimmed the man’s eyes.

Simon didn’t make a sound, listening to his daughter’s sniffling as Price spoke, “She’s been taking care of everyone but herself, and we will keep taking care of her.”

Winnie whimpered; Simon kissed her hair again, keeping her close for as long as she’d let him.

12:39 am. Simon could barely make the time out from across the room. The heel of his hand rubbed into his eye, and he flipped up his phone, squinting to see the date. Four days. Four days since you were rushed here, four days since he hasn’t left you alone. A sigh settled deep in his bones as he let his phone fall, his tingling hand gently rubbing your forearm before he leaned up, wiping his face. He flicked the crust from his eye away, turning to look at you before laying his head down again.

His eyes fluttered closed, his stomach churning just a little before he settled again. His chest weighed like a bell, his heart laying limp in the comfort of his cushioning lungs, his mind wandering, pondering whether he would ever see your eyes again-

He sat up instantly; your eyes were staring at him, wide, almost painful. The look made his stomach roar, his hackles raised, eyebrow furrowed, eyes full of tears and concern.

“Sweetheart, it’s me, it’s okay-”

An alarm blared from your heart monitor, and the call button you rapidly pressed with your less injured hand. Simon’s heart clenched as your tears mirrored his, and the sound of you choking on the breathing tube made his stomach acid toss like salad dressing. He stood, and you flinched; he knew what was happening. He scrambled away, found the switch for the blinding overhead light, and flipped it before he moved to you again. The flood of tears in his eyes made it hard to see you recognize him, but you did. You reached for him as the door burst open - making you jerk again, a whine-like cry escaping your throat.

You thought he was Lloyd.

Simon couldn’t blame you. He spent years breaking mirrors because he looked like his father, his abuser.

He stumbled back, his wrist to his nose as nurses flooded your bedside, his eyes never leaving you. The nurse closest to him helped remove the breathing tube while the other injected something into your IV, and the last furiously typed on the computer. Simon could only keep himself a few steps away, listening to the sound of your whimpers and watching your weak attempts to move away from the help. His nails met his teeth, the quick already bloodied as he had chewed them down two nights ago. The emptiness in his chest had surged as if it was a flood, knocking his respiratory system around like a ping-pong ball against his ribcage. He couldn’t breathe, his heart felt as if it was beating so fast that it would catch fire, the tears leaking into his mouth were like acid.

Of course, you would think he’s Lloyd, the man humorlessly chuckling in his clouded head. Simon looked so much like him that they could be considered brothers, not father and son.

A deep part of him knew this would happen. The one thing Simon fought the hardest to protect was an easy domino to fall, the most direct way to get Simon’s attention, hit him where it could and would hurt the most. He’s kneeling and bleeding, his heart pouring blood as he has to watch his wife cry out when a nurse even grazes her skin.

Simon would be lying if he said he could handle this.

He doesn’t get frustrated with you when you turn your face a little to the left when he brings the spoon to your lips. He put it back into the ceramic bowl as he softly sighed to himself. You’ve barely eaten all morning since they took out the breathing tube, visiting hours are almost starting and Jake would be here, asking a million questions that Simon would need to answer. If the best you could do was five half spoonfuls of broth, it would have to do. He pushed the rolling table away, moving the blankets farther up on your abdomen and tucking it close to your body. Your gaze felt like knives on him, he was barely strong enough to look at your face when the profound sense of guilt only seemed to take his words. He refused to be upset with you when your hand touched his, even though he felt like he needed to rip his skin off.

Your thumb brushed over his bruised knuckles as he kept his hand settled on your hip, staring at the minute gesture that meant so much before, but now… felt bitter. Simon would have thrown up again, recognizing the way your comfort now felt painful.

“You gotta eat more later.” He mumbled, hunched over your bed, wanting to rip his hand from yours but also needing it to stay there. “You need to sleep too, you have to be tired- Ow!”

He looked up at your face, ignoring the dark bruise on your throat, to see just a little smirk. You had pinched his hand, and he furrowed his brows, confused.

“Was that funny?”

A tiny movement like a nod, and he huffed out a flat laugh. His free hand raised a little, in your vision, before slowly moving to settle on your face. He hovered his thumb along the bruise on your cheekbone, his fingers cradled your jaw like porcelain. Your head only moved into him, eyes never moving from him. He wasn’t sure you’d ever be able to look at him like Simon again, after your reaction a couple hours ago. He wouldn’t blame you at all if you couldn’t. He wouldn’t blame you if you left him after this, take the girls and move far, far away from him and everything that came with him - enemies, lies, pain. He wasn’t even sure how safe you were now and that killed him, destroyed his sense of safety and replaced it with so much fear.

“Mel…ody.”

Simon snapped back into reality where your eyes were narrowed slightly staring at him, and he instantly answered. “She’s safe. Just some bruising, she’s home with Jake and Price and Soap.”

Relief washed over your face, your head settled back on the pillow as your gaze finally moved to the ceiling. It’s at times like this where he wished he struggled to know what you’re feeling, what you’re thinking. But, he could read you like an open book.

“You did good,” He spoke, your name escaping like the prayer he needed days ago, “Our baby is safe. Mellie’s okay.”

You pinched him again before you looked back at him, and he let his thumb lightly graze your bruise, you didn’t even flinch.

“New one’s okay too.”

A whine escaped your throat, tears instantly falling from your face as relief washed over it. He patted your hip.

“You did good, Mama. Did really fuckin’ good.”

[niefics]

Coffe shop — PSH & FEM!Y/N

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[scribbledghost]

I have a terrible immune system and I've got multiple folders full to the brim with my medical history to prove it. To be specific though, I've mainly had issues with my kidney and liver and it's been to points where it's given my family a scare and me having to spend time in the hospital. During my senior year in high school, my family and I even had so many meetings with the school about my attendance because I had so many doctors appointments (they were asses about it and not at all understanding. Literally acted as if I could control it 🙄). But anyways, I'm just curious how Fem! Simon would feel about all this. I'm sure she'd be extra protective and more attentive in taking care of her girlfriend with medical issues, having to follow specific diets, do certain exercises, etc.

She definitely lets her military training shine through here, so to speak. When she finds out exactly what you need to be doing and when, what sort of diets you need to be following, etc., she's on top of it.

Though, she'll be the first to admit she gets upset on your behalf when you tell her how everyone essentially ignored/dismissed the issue when you were younger. Especially when it resulted in a hospital stay. But that was then, and this is now, and you've got her now (and hopefully plenty more supportive people in your life).

You're definitely correct in that she's extra protective here, likely to the point where you may have to gently tell her that you're not made of glass. She does mean well, it's just that she may get a bit carried away when you clue her in to all of the intricacies of your condition.

After some time though, the two of you fall into sort of a routine. She intrinsically knows when you're due for a refill on whatever medicines you need, even if you don't tell her. Simon also makes sure plenty of food for you is stocked when she's home, never wanting you to go hungry just because she forgot to get a specific type of food that you can eat.

I like to think Simon also enjoys doing your particular exercises with you. She's pretty active herself, so any sort of physical activity you'll do with her is like. A good Couples Activity for her. Whether it's something intense or something like particular stretches, she'll be glad to help you out with it.

She... worries when she's away on deployment. Probably checks up on you frequently herself, or begs Laswell or Price to do it if she's gone dark. She doesn't mean to insinuate you can't manage yourself - she knows you can - she just gets fidgety when she's so far away from you.

But when she's home, it's like a well-oiled machine. She'd like to be kept in the loop with whatever you've got going on, and your health is no exception here. Simon will gladly go to doctor's appointments with you too, and she usually comes prepared with a decent number of questions.

[desertdollranch]

Opening and reviewing my first My Imagination doll

I have a new 18 inch friend to introduce and review! And this one has had an interesting journey to me.

I stumbled across My Imagination dolls a few years ago on Dollation, a delightful but now defunct site that cataloged different brands of play dolls as well as collectible dolls (check it out via the Wayback machine). By that time, this particular brand, designed by notable doll artist Robert Tonner, was no longer producing dolls. I looked at a few listed on eBay, but I didn't feel ready to buy one. They were a bit out of my price range, and they didn't really strike me as very unique. Their brand name refers to the line of clothing that was supposed to be produced for them, in partnership with DC Comics, the Wizard of Oz, Gone With the Wind, Alice in Wonderland, and I think maybe Disney. But there were very few of those promised items that were produced, and the brand itself only lasted from about 2015 to 2017 or so.

I have more or less neutral feelings about the partnering brands, so that didn't really sell them for me. So I moved on and put them out of my mind.

Cut to a few weeks ago, when my mom attended a doll show local to her. She's a collector as well, although these days she's almost exclusively into Barbie and similar size dolls. At the show she bought a beautiful 16 inch Tyler Wentworth doll, and when she sent me pictures I was pretty certain that the doll was designed by Robert Tonner. There's just something distinct in the face molds he creates. He also designed the dolls for the Magic Attic Club brand, and I have three of those, whom I adore. They're quite a bit older than My Imagination dolls, though.

(Heather, Keisha, and Rose.)

My mom and I were talking about other doll artists whose dolls are easily identifiable, like Helen Kish and Dianna Effner. I mentioned to her that Tonner had also designed a brand called My Imagination, and I went searching for examples to show her. That's when I stumbled across a listing for a doll that was not only a realistic price, but the particular doll I liked the best.

Since I first heard of them, my doll collection has changed a lot. It's no longer quite so dominated by American Girl dolls--not that I don't love them, I certainly do, but I've also opened my home to many other different brands of 18 inch dolls like Maplelea, Our Generation, Starpath, Healthy Roots, Götz, and Faithful Friends. I love having a diverse collection of unique dolls. It's fun to see how different they all look from each other, and yet they're all pretty much the same size and can be friends with each other.

So when I did see the listing for the My Imagination doll, I felt my heart change towards her and couldn't get her off my mind. I sat on the listing for a while, contemplating, imagining who she might turn out to be, until the seller sent me an offer for an even lower price. That did it. I went for it. And she arrived today.

Click through the cut to see the unboxing ceremony!

None of the dolls in this brand were given names. They are referred to as Brunette/Redhead/Blonde, in either Starter dolls (standard articulation at hips/elbows/head) and Deluxe dolls (bendable knees). The specific doll I got was the Starter Brunette.

She was brand new in the box, and it looks like she was probably never removed from her packaging. She was gently tied in with white satin ribbons rather than those awful plastic straps.

Time to free her from her box and take off her hairnet.

She's in perfect condition. She has a full vinyl body and is very heavy. The vinyl itself is dense and smooth with a matte finish, so much so that she almost looks like she's made of porcelain. Her skin has no shine to it at all. It's a bisque color with rosy undertones.

Her long curly brown wig is lovely but imperfect. It's rather dry on the ends.

Her glass eyes are gorgeous. They do not open and close. She has inset eyelashes.

But I think the side part isn't working for me, so how about we try a center part?

I think this gives her a younger look! Later I'll try to get her wig off and move it over so that she has a center part, but for now brushing it to the side works fine.

Looking at her undressed, I think she looks skinnier than American Girl dolls, but definitely not as slim as my Magic Attic Club dolls. Her head turns, and her arms and legs move outward as well as forward and backward.

Here she is side by side with one of my American Girl dolls, Eugenia. I think I'm right about their size comparison.

They had a fashion show to find out for sure just how similar they are! Eugenia can wear New Girl's dress just fine. It velcroes in the back and isn't too tight. New Girl is wearing an American Girl brand dress, and it fits almost perfectly--it's just a tiny bit big, and definitely not in a noticeable way.

Here's Eugenia wearing the cute sandals that came with New Girl. They're a pretty close fit.

And here she is next to (her cousin? half-sister?) Rose. To my eye, they very much look related.

Here she is in Maplelea brand clothes. I also did some brushing and reshaping of her curls.

I haven't decided yet what her name will be. I do know that she's a modern girl who loves to read, daydream, and play dress-up.

[scarefox]

Signed up to watch a 2h speech / presentation I need to attend... BUT it is online via zoom so I don't have to go outside and can sit on my couch in a blanket and drink coffe!

It's about new AI laws and legally save AI software... I need to know this as graphics designer 😔

---

lol started with a AI animated avatar / deepfake of himself that totally looked AI because the hand movements didn't match what he said.

Oh no, he is a Zuckerberg fanboy.

This is going to be fun. (probably will get pissed along the way tho)

But they have some lawyers there to answer questions. Yay Christian Solmecke is there too (popular german media lawyer on yt)

---

so far: unlike human made work, AI generated artwork or designs are not copyrighted (in germany) AND if the AI piece is based on an existing human made work and it's still visible in the AI piece you need to get the copyright from the original owner / creator (includes designs, logos, images, text and music)

Copyright owner can opt-out and sue if it's still gets used for AI training / generation (american laws aren't finished yet but also will go into that direction)

---

They test different AI software to give out a little comic scenario. And oh boy as a graphic designer with knowledge about typography the text is triggering me so hard. It's so bad. SEE alone typography is an area that can't be made by a machine because even tho it is based on design laws it's still an intuitive human-eye based way of design. There is a difference between mathematical-centered and optical-centered.

---

Man they are all so horny for AI and reduction of jobs and costs.... But no matter how good an AI could generate an image or video... it will never give you the raw files where you can do individual changes afterwards.

Besides that I still think humanity isn't ready yet for the power and options AI is giving us. (at least one of the very high quality AI builders isn't selling it atm because they are afraid that it will get misused for fake news and stuff, so they try to find a way to prevent that before they bring it on the market)

So many creative jobs and professions that will die out just for us to get 100% digital made "creative" content and advertisements :/ (so far even the most high quality AI still has some small uncanny vibe). Like even actors will be replaced in the future... all they need to do is allow companies to use their face / body.... there is literally a Black Mirror episode about that.

Reminds me of that one AI kpop idol project I have seen last year on tiktok.... absolutely creepy and wrong. I know some of us are simping over anime, game or vocaloid characters but... man idk, do yall want to simp over uncanny digital kpop idols who don't even exist nor actually work for their skills and talent? 💀 Being into an idol is not just about the visuals and songs, it's about their personality and individuality.... for me at least.... (but of course the kpop industry is one of the first trying this). I do like Taemin for example beacuse he's breaking out of the industry norms. AI dude could never be on his level.

---

"Amazing. In a company in the US a CEO told us that with the use of an AI they could remove 700 jobs and save so much money!"

.... yeah cool. Maybe we should remove ALL jobs on this earth and let AI do it, so we humans don't do anything at all anymore. Oh wait, no, of course we still have to do hard repetitive labor like some work drones because it's cheaper than to build and maintain actual robots for these jobs.

---

BRUH of course the event is mainly to sell an AI class from the hosting company. For the cheap price of 4900€ FOR THE LAST TIME because the next class will be over 6000€

I feel like AI bros always hype each other up to blow it all up artificially. Just like NFT and the mobile game market.

---

DID HE JUST SAY that there aren't enough graphic designer and programmer on the market and that they will profit from the support of AI?? (it's actually oversaturated and therefore jobs are hard to get) AI bros really live in a secluded bubble hu? Of course none of these dudes in this event are from the creative industry but lawyers and CEOs

[440mxs-wife]

The Country Doctor, Chapter 1: A Fresh Start

Pairing: Dr. Leonard “Bones” McCoy x F!Reader (eventual). Other Characters are the usual suspects: Jim Kirk, Nyota Uhura. Spock, Montgomery Scott, Hikaru Sulu, Pavel Chekov (to be introduced in later chapters.) OMC's Travis Myers and Miles Cooper.

Word Count: 4530

Warnings: Divorce, break-up, ruthless businessmen, mentions of infidelity, but mostly fluffy (for now)

Summary: Fresh off of his divorce, Dr. McCoy receives word that he has inherited a 5,000-acre farm and home in Logan, Montana. Finally, he has an opportunity for a clean slate and to start his own clinic out west and leave his ex-wife behind. Along the way, he'll meet a cast of unique characters, each with a place in his new small-town life. But there could be trouble ahead in the form of a powerful CEO hell-bent on acquiring Leonard's property by any means necessary.

A/N: This idea was posted by @hailbop1701, with a specific list of plot points/dialog to be included. I won't put the list here, because it'll give away too much. Not sure how many parts there'll be, but I hope you like where I take the story.

A/N 2: If you’ve been tagged here, it’s because you’ve interacted one or more times on a McCoy story of mine, or we’re moots. Whether you like or reblog, I am eternally grateful for your support. If anyone else would like to be tagged on any future Karl Urban character postings, or would rather leave the Crazy Train, please let me know. Thank you, and enjoy the show!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Court is adjourned."

That was the declaration eight weeks ago, when Dr. Leonard H. McCoy sat at a table with his attorney in the Fulton County Courthouse in Atlanta, Georgia. The Honorable Judge Michael Simmons had just pounded his gavel on the bench to signify an end to the McCoy v. McCoy divorce proceedings. Unfortunately, his now-ex-wife, Jocelyn, had the better attorney, which resulted in a somewhat less-than-equitable division of their assets.

At least Leonard was able to keep his vintage pickup truck and the 4-bedroom, 2 bath, ranch-style home he had lived in with Jocelyn. She basically got everything else in the settlement, though, including most of the furniture. She didn't technically need the furniture, since she was moving in with her new boyfriend. However, he had a rental property that needed furnishings, so that's where they went.

Two weeks after the divorce was finalized, Leonard received correspondence from a law firm in Montana, with a request for his presence. The letter did not specify the reason for the request, and when he called the law office, no one was authorized to divulge any information. He didn't want to find himself on the wrong side of the law and besides, he was more than a little curious. Luckily, the law firm had a satellite office in Atlanta, so that's where he attended the meeting.

An hour or so after the meeting ended, a slightly dazed Leonard walked out of the attorney's office with a file folder and a property deed in his hand. The meeting was for the reading of the will for his distant uncle, Walter McCoy. Around 5,000 acres of land in Montana along with an old craftsman-style farmhouse were bequeathed to him to do with as he pleased. There were also various outbuildings on the property, such as a machine shed, a barn with a hay loft, and horse stables.

He had options. There was an Eastern conglomerate, NorthStar Corp, that was willing to pay a more than fair price to buy it from him, lock, stock, and barrel. With what they were offering, Leonard wouldn't have to worry about money for the foreseeable future, if ever. Or, he could make the break from Georgia and his ex-wife with her boy-toy to make a go of it in Logan, Montana. Although Leonard wanted to stay near his mother, Eleanora, he had to consider that this was his chance to start over somewhere else.

When he told his best friend, James T. Kirk, about his inheritance, Jim could hardly contain his excitement. He considered it to be the start to a great adventure and was more than willing to accompany Leonard.

Jim had no family ties to speak of, preferring to live a sort of nomadic existence. He even offered to take turns driving the moving truck the 1,900 or so miles to Montana. "Good music, good snacks, and good company are all we need to get us to our destination, Bones," Kirk told him with a wide grin.

The more Leonard thought about it, the more he warmed up to the idea of starting somewhere new. A place where he wouldn't have to worry about running into someone who knew about the divorce and wouldn't hesitate to share an opinion about it. So, with Jim's help, he cleared his house out of any remaining items, put them in storage, then contacted a realtor to list it for sale.

After only a few showings, a deal was quickly closed, with a $30,000.00 profit in his bank account to show for it. Leonard and Jim loaded up his remaining possessions into the moving van, hooked up a car trailer with Leonard's pickup truck on it, and headed west to Montana. The pair made a few stops along the way, renting a hotel room to rest for the night before hitting the road again the next morning.

The more miles Leonard put behind him, the more comfortable and free he felt with his decision. He wasn't too keen on leaving his mother behind, but she assured him that she would be fine, even encouraged him to take this leap. He made a note to send her a plane ticket so she could visit once he got settled.

Nearly four days and more than 1,900 miles later, Leonard turned into the gravel driveway that led to his new home. It was a charcoal gray with white trim craftsman-style farmhouse with a tall, red brick chimney on one side. The wooden wrap-around porch was accented with white, tapered columns, set on top of the slotted railing framing the area. He appreciated the large windows, which would bring in a good amount of natural light, as well as soft breezes on lazy summer days.

"Well? Is it everything you expected?" Jim asked.

"I didn't exactly know what to expect, Jim. I don't even remember either of my parents ever mentioning an 'Uncle Walter McCoy'. He isn't someone I knew well enough for him to leave me something like this, but I'll do my best to make the most of it. From what I've seen so far, though, at least the outside looks fine," Leonard replied.

"That's the spirit, Bones! Let's go have a look at the grounds, then inside the house. After that, we can start unloading your stuff," Jim grinned as he scrambled out of the truck.

Leonard stepped down from the driver's seat and closed the door. "Sure, Jim. Why not," he muttered to himself. He fished the house keys out of his pocket on his way up the porch steps. The front door was made of solid oak with a dark finish and leaded glass panels arranged in a geometric design. He inserted the key into the lock and tilted his head back. "Here goes nothin', I guess," he murmured, pushing the door open.

***

At just after 2:00pm, you stopped by the post office to retrieve your mail that had piled up over the last couple of days. Before you left, you strolled up to the counter to chat with your best friend, Nyota Uhura. Her shift was almost over, so she suggested the two of you meet for coffee and a snack at the Java Station Café on Main Street.

While you waited for her at the café, you thought about how you met her and what brought you back to Logan, Montana. Your now-ex-boyfriend, Travis Myers, had convinced you to move with him from Logan to Bozeman. He'd landed a lucrative position as in-house counsel for a large and powerful corporation. You found work at a tech company doing data entry work for a medical office. Not too terribly taxing nor was it what you wanted for a career, but it paid well.

Around the six-month mark of living together in the big city, Travis started coming home later and later in the evening. Missed date nights and other outings were becoming more frequent, with him coming to bed late and leaving before you woke up. Whenever you tried to talk to him about it, he always chalked it up to working late on a big case or project, so you let it go.

The last straw was when the two of you were supposed to meet a few of your friends for dinner. Since he was late picking you up from home, you asked one of them to drive you to the restaurant. From the lobby, you called Travis and told him to meet you there.

Just before you said your goodbyes, you heard, "Come back to bed, baby, I'm cold" in a woman's voice. You were furious, demanding to know who the woman was and how long he had been seeing her. After first denying everything, he ultimately confessed it was his assistant and it had been going on for about six weeks. You felt your world collapsing around you at his admission. Dinner was forgotten while your friends drove you back to the apartment to pack up your belongings.

You couch-surfed for about a month before finding an apartment back in Logan, where you had previously lived with your parents. Because Travis paid for most of the expenses such as rent and utilities, you were able to save up quite a nest egg to cover your new living situation. However, you weren't sure how much longer your savings would hold out, so you decided to look for a job to make ends meet.

The bell above the door tinkled, and Nyota rushed over to your table. After a brief hug, you both sat down and waited for your server to appear and take your order. Uhura was practically vibrating with energy, which meant she had something exciting to share. A few minutes later, with your order submitted, she spilled her secret.

"You'll never guess what happened today!" she exclaimed. "Two men came in today to file a change of address card."

You snorted. "That sounds like something that happens every day around here, Nyota, not that interesting. You're nearly jumping out of your skin about this. What is so compelling about them that has you barely able to sit still long enough to tell me?"

Uhura made a face at you to show her displeasure. "If you can keep from insulting me, I'll tell you," she pouted. You held up your hands in surrender as her cue to continue. "They moved here from Georgia, and one of them has the most tantalizing Southern accent. They were both tall, one blond hair with striking blue eyes, and the other dark hair and hazel eyes. He seemed a little grumpy at first, but Blue Eyes was the more charming of the two," she explained.

"Did you get a look at their new address, the one here?" you asked.

"The one with dark hair listed his name as Dr. Leonard H. McCoy, and his address matched the one for Walter McCoy's place," she replied.

Now she had your attention. Every so often, you drove by the farm, wishing you lived there instead of your small, one-bedroom apartment. You had thoughts about what it would be like to buy the place one day so you could fix it up and return it to some of its old glory. You'd heard through the grapevine that the owner passed away a few months back. It was also mentioned that ownership would pass to his only other living relative.

"I've always thought about that place, what it looks like inside, how I would spruce it up. Wait a minute, did you say Doctor McCoy?" you squeaked.

"And her brain has finally caught up with her mouth," Uhura joked. "I was wondering when you'd catch on to that tidbit of information. That house has a separate office space, ideal for treating patients. Word travels fast in this town, and once folks get to know there's a doctor in town again, Dr. McCoy is bound to need help. You know, with paperwork or coordinating treatment of his patients. Know anyone with those kind of skills?" she grinned.

In addition to your data entry job, you had acquired some basic medical training. The town had a couple of paramedics within the Volunteer Fire Department for the more serious cases. For now, it was enough, but it would be nice for the vacancy to be filled, especially by a handsome doctor. "Hmm. Maybe I should head out that way, introduce myself, see if he needs any help." Beg him for a job, you silently added.

"That's the spirit! If you're done with your coffee, we should drive out there and check things out. You in?" she held out her hand for you to shake.

After draining the last of your cappuccino, you nodded and shook her hand. "I'm all in," you declared.

***

Leonard and Jim wandered the property, taking in the condition and contents of the outbuildings. Many of the machines and tools were left behind. They noted which items were and were not still functional, to determine what could be easily returned to service or sold for parts. The good news was, the buildings themselves were structurally sound, although at least in need of a new outer coat of paint.

As for the house itself, Leonard was pleased to find a side entrance that led to an office, set apart from the main house. It was perfect for starting his clinic, with a small area that could function as a waiting room, and enough space for a reception desk. He made a note to check in town for a secondhand store to pick up a desk, some chairs and other furnishings.

Jim joked and told him that all he needed now was a pretty receptionist who could also perform nursing duties. Leonard glared at him in response, reminding him that after the way divorce went, he wasn't at all interested in dating. "Just doctorin'," he affirmed. "Maybe fishin', if the winds are just right," he added with a smirk.

A tour of the home's interior revealed hardwood flooring in the bedrooms and living room, while ceramic tiles covered the floor in the eat-in kitchen. There was a separate dining room space between the kitchen and living room. The centerpiece of the living room was a fireplace made with gray bricks and had a dark wooden mantle above it.

Before his arrival, Leonard contacted the utilities and asked for them to be turned on and transferred into his name. That gave Leonard and Jim a chance to determine what worked and what needed repaired. For the most part, the electrical system was in good working order, except for a few outlets that may need replaced or updated.

The water situation was another story. At first, when Jim turned on the high-arching faucet in the kitchen, the white farmhouse sink reflected a light brownish tint to the water. The pedestal sink and clawfoot tub in the main bathroom, plus the sinks in the half-baths were the same shade of brown. However, the more they let the water run, the clearer it became, which helped ease their minds a bit.

Leonard walked back out to the porch to make a mental list of what he'd need to bring the old house back to life and working order. The hardwood floors were in good condition, though they could use a bit of polish applied to them. There were a few non-working electrical outlets that would need an electrician's expertise to chase down the problem. In the bedrooms, there were spots where the wallpaper was peeling away from the wall. Not exactly a fan of wallpaper, Leonard decided it would be better to tear it all down and paint instead.

Overall, the pluses outweighed the minuses, such as the updated appliances in the kitchen and quartz countertops. Leonard could definitely see himself cooking up a Sunday dinner of his mother's chicken and dumplings with a peach cobbler. As an avid reader, he also loved the built-in bookshelves to showcase his personal library of classics. And the side-door entrance to the office space provided a break between his professional life and his personal life.

Jim joined him out on the porch and gazed out over the mature trees that dotted the property. "So now that you've taken the grand tour, what do you think, Bones?"

Leonard thought for a moment before answering. "Think I'm gonna like it here. Let's start unloading the truck," he directed. "Good thing we hit those consignment shops on the way here, or you wouldn't have a bed to sleep in," he jested.

Jim was about to unlatch the door on the moving truck when he noticed a car turning into the driveway. "Welcoming Committee?" he wondered. Leonard shook his head and rolled his eyes while he walked over to stand next to Jim. They both watched as the car rolled to a stop near the front of the truck.

***

The drive to the McCoy place only took about twenty minutes, which you spent silently reviewing your qualifications. Uhura could tell you were worried about making a good impression, which she was sure you would. She told you not to worry about it, that you were the best candidate for the job, if Dr. McCoy was hiring. "What if he's not hiring, though?" you asked.

"Then we'll have to convince him that he'll need your help, being the only doc in town. There really is no way around it, he will require an assistant," she reasoned. Her response sounded logical, so you accepted it and kept driving out to meet your prospective employer.

Soon your car was pulling into the driveway, where a large moving truck was parked. Upon seeing the two men standing to one side, you had to admit that Uhura was right. They were both strikingly handsome men. The dark-aired man carried a stern look on his face and his arms were crossed over his chest. The blond seemed a little more easygoing, self-assured, bordering on cocky, as if he knew what a good-looking man he was.

As you exited your vehicle, the men had started walking in your direction. "You ladies lost or somethin'?" the dark-haired man drawled. Ohhhh, that accent was enough to make you weak in the knees, you thought. You held on to your open door for balance.

"Yeah, can we help you?" the blond man wondered with a smirk.

When your brain finally rebooted, you responded, "Actually, we were hoping to be of assistance to you, since you're new in town." At this, you introduced the two of you and learned that the blond was James T. Kirk, or "Jim" he offered with a waggle of his eyebrows. His grumpy companion with the dark hair was the Dr. Leonard H. McCoy who now owned the property.

"I think we can manage fine with just the two of us. Good day, la--" Leonard was interrupted by Jim, who pulled him aside.

"Wait a minute, Bones, let's not be too hasty. I mean, these are a couple of gorgeous women who showed up out of nowhere to see us," Jim pointed out. "It wouldn't hurt to hear what they had to say, now would it?"

Leonard pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed in exasperation. He was here to be a physician, to take care of people who need help, not dip a toe in the dating pool. When he looked up, he noticed that Jim had left his side and was talking to Uhura, while you had stepped up in his place.

"Excuse me, Dr. McCoy? I understand that my friend and I just turned up unannounced on your doorstep, and you don't know anything about us. But this is a pretty small town, and I should tell you, it won't take long for people to learn that we have a new physician to replace old Doc Thomas. Therefore, I'm offering you my services. I have some basic medical training, and I used to do data entry for a medical company back in Bozeman," you explained.

"Bozeman? Why on earth would you ever leave there to live here? Not to say that what I've seen so far of Logan isn't simply charming," Leonard added with more than a hint of sarcasm.

"I'll be glad to share that little tidbit of information once we've gotten used to working together," you shot back. "By hiring me, you'll have a well-organized appointment calendar, along with accurate patient files. You'll also have someone who knows how to take and record vitals, which leaves you free to do the doctorin'. So, do we have a deal?" you asked, your hand outstretched.

Leonard took a moment to consider your offer, bold though it was. He had to concede that in a town of this size, word would get around about a new physician and spread like wildfire. He'd probably end up with a huge influx of patients. Even if it was only at first, he might become easily overwhelmed. Patient care was of the utmost importance to him, and if you could make things easier for him, who was he to reject such a proposition?

His lack of response translated to you as a decline of your offer of assistance. As you started to withdraw your hand, he quickly grabbed it and clasped it between his own. "Whoa, hold on there just a minute. All right, you have a deal, but we'll do this as a trial run. A three-month probationary period, take it or leave it," he bartered, fighting the urge to smile.

"Thank you, Dr. McCoy! Three months? That'll be more than enough time for you to decide you can't live without me! In-in the office, I mean," you clarified.

Leonard couldn't help but smile at your blunder. "All right, now that we have that settled, I hope you'll excuse me and Casanova over there with your friend. We have a lot to unload, and I'd like to sleep in my own bed tonight rather than the couch," he stated.

"We can help, if that's okay with you? With four sets of hands, we can be done in no time. Besides, I've always been kind of curious about what the inside of your house looks like," you admitted.

You are one interesting woman, Leonard thought to himself. "Okay, let's get started then. Once we get everything out of the truck, I'll take you on the nickel tour," he winked. He whistled to get Jim's and Uhura's attention, then opened up the back of the truck.

***

"There, I think that's the last of it," Leonard declared after he removed the final box from the moving truck and placed it on the lawn. He jumped up to grab the leather strap, then pulled down the rolling door until it was flush with the deck. He latched and locked the door, picked up the box, and brought it into his new home.

 Jim and Uhura had taken your car into town to pick up something for dinner, which left you alone with Leonard. During the unloading, you didn't get much of a chance to stop and look around. But now that most of the heavy lifting was done, you seized the opportunity to take in your surroundings.

You were so caught up in admiring the home's features that you didn't hear Dr. McCoy slide up next to you. "If you have your nickel, I'm ready to start the tour," he grinned. You dug in your pocket, which luckily contained the right coin for the price of your ticket. "Ready when you are, Dr. McCoy," you replied, handing over the 5 cents.

***

Video Conference Call -- Bozeman, Montana

Travis checked his watch to see that he had another ten minutes before his conference call was scheduled to start. He opened the blue file folder in front of him, which was sent from his employer regarding a property they wanted to acquire in Logan, Montana. He sat back in his chair as he thought about how you'd moved there after breaking up with him. Before he could stroll any further down Memory Lane, his alarm beeped to let him know it was time to start the call.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen," Travis greeted. He could see the CEO, Miles Cooper, at the head of the table, surrounded by other members of NorthStar Corp's Board of Executives.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Myers. I see you have the file in front of you, so let's begin. We understand that the principal owner of the McCoy property has passed away. As such, we want to move forward and make the new owner an offer to purchase the parcel of land and whatever's on it. The house, barn, stables--everything, down to the last shingle," Mr. Cooper explained.

"My source tells me that the new owner drove all the way from Atlanta, Georgia to check out the property. He is also a doctor, and the town has been without one since the last one died. In my opinion, this could present a problem. He may decide to stay and 'hang out his shingle', as it were," Travis pointed out.

Mr. Cooper leaned back in his chair and rested his steepled index fingers on his chin as he contemplated his next move. As he considered this new development, conversation buzzed around him among the other executives. According to one of the scientific reports he received, there were plenty of reasons for encouraging the good doctor to sell.

The report mentioned the discovery of several veins of copper and silver running beneath the surface. The financial gains from mining those resources would more than cover the initial investment paid to acquire the property. Whether the new owner was aware of these precious metals was unknown, but Cooper needed to act fast before the doctor learned of their existence.

With a wave of his hand, silence returned to the board room as Mr. Cooper had made a decision. "Mr. Myers, I suggest you do your best to convince Dr. McCoy to sell the property to us. I will have a new purchase offer drawn up that's more than fair, and you should strongly encourage him to accept it."

Travis carefully considered Mr. Cooper's words that carried the barest hint of a threat behind them. "Sir, I will present your offer; however, we should be prepared for him to turn it down and decide to become the town's doctor."

"You worry about getting a signature on that purchase agreement, Myers, and I will worry about whether or not a contingency plan will be needed. Before the previous owner's death, this was a working farm, right? Lots of tools, machinery? Farming is considered to be one of the most dangerous professions, you know. Accidents can and do happen. It would be unfortunate if an accident should befall the good Dr. McCoy," Mr. Cooper replied darkly.

There was no mistake in Mr. Cooper's intent this time. "Absolutely, sir. I will find a way to present your offer that will make it difficult if not impossible to decline it."

Mr. Cooper's eyes brightened and a smile graced his face. "Excellent, Myers, I knew I could count on you. I'll send that new offer over to you as soon as I have it and we'll go from there," he stated. "I appreciate your cooperation, Myers, I certainly won't forget it."

"And thank you, Sir. I welcome this opportunity, and I will not let you down," Travis concluded.

"Let us hope not, Myers. I'd hate for you to experience any....negative fallout, should you be unable to close this deal," Mr. Cooper remarked ominously before disconnecting the call.

Travis relaxed in his chair and began to formulate a plan in his mind. A sly grin crept across his face as he thought of the perfect way to get an inside look into the doctor's life.

Of course, it involved a trip to Logan and should he happen to run into you, so much the better. For him, anyway. Though there was a near 100% chance that you would want nothing to do with him. If that was the case, his plan may be a bust before it even gets started.

Especially after the way things ended between you discovering his infidelity. For that reason alone, it was likely your walls of protection against him and his crap were nearly guaranteed to be sky-high. But it was a chance he was willing to take, because he did not want to disappoint his client. Something told him that with a failure of this magnitude, Mr. Cooper was capable of making his life a living hell.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Tags: @marvelouslytrekking @spacedancer1701 @anna-phora @hailbop1701 @writercole @lassie-bird @never--doubt @phoenixisred @wayward-dreamer @erindiggory @strangesgirls @dumpsterhippie @genevablog26 @lokis-deares @medicatemedrmccoy @rooweighton @mamamercurymist @d-doki-doki @malmeansbad @imamotherfuckingstar-lord @ghosttrekkie @noforkingclue @bellestalesoffiction

[meilifera]

OMAKE MODE SIDE STORY 2 - (MACHINE) TRANSLATION

found out this got released. freaked out. hopped on my computer and started running papago and google translate at full speed. note: as mentioned before, this is machine translated + tweaks here and there to make it more readable and comprehensive. i don't speak korean so im very very sorry for any inaccuracies (please feel free to correct me). i cross-referenced multiple machine translations and made sure to stay as close to the original as possible, but again, no guarantee it's entirely accurate. this will (obviously) contain spoilers for both DRA and SDRA2. proceed with caution. with that, let's begin!

"Ootori Teruya."

He is the financial officer of the Kisaragi Corporation and a member of the 79th class of the Hopes Peak Academy. Although he didn't think highly of his own intellect, he rose to the position of 'Super High School-Level Merchant' with his innate understanding of commerce and mathematical talent. He thought that entering Hopes Peak Academy would be the start of his success, but he unexpectedly finds himself caught in trouble and experiencing a hell where life and death are at stake.

Now, it is widely known as the 'most despair-inducing event in human history.'

The 'Killing School Life' inflicted upon the 79th class as a preliminary experiment for that catastrophic event. Ootori survived that hell.

... No, he had survived.

"Ootori, you're quite pitiable..."

"Yeah, you're right. Sacrificing so much for the organization, only to end up like this."

"I actually liked Ootori..."

The time is right after the conclusion of the 'Utsuroshima Incident.' Barely managing to capture the masterminds, the Kisaragi Corporation is preparing to return to their normal routine.

As part of that, they have to bid farewell to Ootori, the high-ranking officer who sacrificed his life in this incident. It is Ootori Teruya's funeral, attended by most of the members and affiliates of the Kisaragi Corporation. However, there are voices that cannot simply accept his death.

"That rumor... Is it true after all?"

"What? That the director abandoned Ootori?"

"Hey, watch your words. Could the director really have abandoned a colleague?"

"There must have been a reason. I trust the director."

"But there are quite a few unsettling things."

"The current state of the organization is definitely strange..."

Cracks gradually appear. Detailed information about the Utsuroshima Incident has not been publicly disclosed except for high-ranking officials, but rumors spread quickly. There had been an implicit 'factionalism' within the organization even before the incident. This event only served to widen the pre-existing cracks.

The Kisaragi Corporation made tremendous efforts and sacrifices to eliminate the worst criminals and preserve peace in the world. However... the price paid was too high. They lost many significant things that cannot be replaced.

In this situation, it was not unreasonable for members of the organization to feel confused.

... It was not an exaggeration.” 2

Knock. Knock.

The sound of knocking echoed through the top-floor corridor of the Kisaragi Institution. The door had the words "Director's Office" written on it in large letters.

"...Come in."

"Mekaru, what's the matter? Why have you come at this hour?"

"...Is it something urgent right after the funeral?"

"You know how it is. There's no time to rest."

The man processing the towering pile of documents on the unremarkable chair and desk in the Director's Office was Kisaragi Institution's director, Kinjo Tsurugi, a member of the 79th class of the Hope's Peak Academy and a former high school police officer.

Just a few days ago, he had risked his life to cut off the source of evil in Utsuroshima, but he was still working on paperwork late into the night, without taking a break.

A woman walked up to Kinjo without hesitation. She was the head of the Kisaragi Institution's information team and a former high school teacher, Mekaru Rei. She was also a former classmate of Kinjo's in the 79th class and had crossed the Sura Bridge (No idea what this means) with him.

"Although Sannoji Mikado was undoubtedly a great evil, the world is still filled with small and large evils."

Kinjo continued to work on the documents, ignoring Mekaru's presence in the office.

"We can't stop, even for the sake of the deceased, like Ootori Teruya."

"Wow, you even mentioned Otori's name. I don't think I could’ve even shown my face in public if I were you."

"..."

Kinjo's pen paused for a moment as he was signing documents.

"I know that Sannoji Mikado was an opponent we couldn't have caught without going that far."

Mekaru continued, looking straight at Kinjo's face.

"As the head of the Kisaragi Institution's information department, Mekaru Rei understands that better than anyone else."

"But...as a member of the Hope's Peak Academy's 79th class, I can't accept that."

"As a member of the Hope's Peak Academy's 79th class, Kinjo Tsurugi shouldn't have done that."

"Mekaru, have you been drinking?"

"..."

It was only then that Kinjo looked up from the documents and gazed at Mekaru's face. She looked somewhat unorganized, dressed in a less neat and tidy manner than usual. Her face was a little flushed.

"That's just for today."

Leaning against the wall of the director's office, Mekaru stared blankly at the dull white ceiling light.

"If I didn’t do this today, I might’ve actually killed you."

".............."

"What really angers me is..."

"That traitor Ootori guy who abandoned us..."

"Even in the afterlife, he won't hold any resentment towards us."

Kinjo noticed that Mekaru's voice was gradually getting louder.

"...Mekaru, you're in bad shape. Let's stop for today."

"That guy, even though we tried to protect him, he was willing to sacrifice himself."

"He wanted to make sure we wouldn't feel guilty, even if he used himself as a disposable pawn..."

"I said stop!!"

Kinjo couldn't help but shout. Immediately, he regretted it. He should have remained calm.

Having observed Kinjo closely for a long time, Mekaru had no qualms about digging into Kinjo’s weak spots.

"Fine... Kinjo Tsurugi."

"I came here today to tell you this."

"Mekaru Rei, the member of the 79th class at Hope’s Peak academy, is no more.”

"................"

Mekaru, who was stumbling around under the influence a moment ago, suddenly adopted a serious tone.

"You're the same, aren't you?"

"Kinjo Tsurugi, the member of the 79th class, disappeared a long time ago, right?"

"Yes, there are no more 79th class members."

"Mekaru Rei also died along with Teruya Otori."

"That's what I know."

"Mekaru...!"

Kinjo rose from his desk, but Mekaru didn't bat an eye.

"Well... yeah."

"Listen carefully. This is the will of Mekaru Rei, a member of the 79th class."

"'It wasn't enjoyable being together, and let's never see each other again.'"

"'Kinjo Tsurugi, you bastard.'"

Kinjo didn't mind being cursed at. He understood why Mekaru was treating him this way.

They had both prepared themselves for everything.

Mekaru knew that which is why he came before the funeral day of Ootori passed.

But...

".............."

"Go away." (i assume, this might be inaccurate - the original text said “Go in”)

"Starting from tomorrow... Please take good care of Mekaru Rei, information officer of the Kisaragi Agency."

"...Director."

Mekaru purposely made a loud noise as she closed the door to the director's office and left. Left alone, Kinjo clutched his trembling legs and struggled to sit back in his wheelchair.

"..................."

Silently, Kinjo resumed his paperwork. At a glance, he seemed extremely calm as if there had been no conversation with Mekaru.

"..........Haaa."

The solitary overtime work continued, and finally, the end of the accumulated documents began to come into sight.

Glancing at the clock, Kinjo realized that it had already passed midnight and the date had changed.

Yes, the funeral day of Ootori had come to an end.

"...................Haha."

"Hahaha."

Setting down the fountain pen on the desk, Kinzou lifted his head and looked at the ceiling.

Suddenly, he burst into a devastated laugh.

"───────!! ───!"

...He buried his head on the spot and let out a silent scream.

A side that he only shows when he's alone, a side that no one knows.

It is the appearance of Kinjo Tsurugi as a member of the 79th class at Kiboukan Academy.

"!! ─────! ────────!!"

With a loud thud, Kinjo collapsed to the floor.

While screaming with his whole body, he couldn't overcome his emotions and fell from the wheelchair.

The wheels of the wheelchair spun meaninglessly, and the neatly arranged documents danced in the air.

...Yet, this scream of silence doesn't stop.

What was the right answer?

Did he do the right thing?

Was there really no better way?

Kinjo Tsurugi cannot escape from these endless questions for the rest of his life.

No matter how much he struggles to improve, the doubts only deepen.

It's already too late to turn back, and he can only bear the painful emotions.

That's why he can't confide in anyone, and silently screaming without making even a slight sound becomes his only resistance.

And the next day, the director disappeared without anyone knowing.

Officially, he was put on temporary leave, but no one knew why or where he had gone.

Mekaru Rei took on the temporary role of acting director, but she didn't appear the same as before.

From this point on, the Kisaragi Institute was clearly tilting.

And in the near future, the Kisaragi Institute would reach a significant turning point due to an event.

It was a future that had not yet arrived, unknown to anyone.

But when that time comes, it is certain that someone will step forward and leave a record...

...It was such a grand future.

[shiningdesignersreflections]

Caprico: Future Indicator

Designer's Reflection: Future Indicator

Obtained: top-up for Void Stardust

Rarity: SSR

Attribute: Purple/Sexy

Awakened Suit: Future Guide

Story - transcripts from Designer's Reflection

Chapter 1 - Recruiting

Chapter 2 - An Invitation

Chapter 3 - Future

Chapter 4 - Price

Story - summarized

A data hacker named G owes Caprico lots of money. So, when G gets an advertisement from Mercury Group to be a test subject in Ruins, he jumps at the opportunity to make some cash. He'll attend this experiment, then walk away with top secret knowledge he can sell on the black market.

But when he arrives, something is off. Everyone, who was so excited to be here, falls into an eerie calm, and they're ushered into capsules to sleep and be tested on. G manages to avoid the capsule and makes his way deeper into Ruins. He comes across Glow, who is monitoring the whole experiment... and now has caught G.

Caprico is tinkering in his workshop when he gets an email from Glow. Out of the blue, she is inviting him to Ruins to help with an experiment. Of course, Caprico can't resist, and he agrees to help her. Upon arriving at the main Ruin Island, he goes straight to work, entering a capsule willingly and transporting himself to the virtual world of Ideal City.

His role is to perfect society and weed out impurities, like sudden emotions. As he gets to work, he notices a man in the distance running from virtual police. The man is shot and arrested.

Meanwhile, back in the real world, G the hacker barely wakes up from his "dream" of being shot. Caprico doesn't reach out or try to help him, leaving him behind in his quest for mechanical perfection.

Connections

-Glow calls Caprico Code-219. He first met her in his Reflection for Into the Ruins, where he used to be a scientist at Ruins, and his new "name" was taken from his IQ being 219.

-Caprico prides himself on not needing emotions and being more rational than others - however, in one of the hell event's side stories, Heart of Machines, he produces many impurity crystals when he is proud and happy of his experiments.

-In the extra dialogues in the Index section, for both Caprico's and Glow's Reflections for the event, they comment that Caprico is not like other humans. After this event, in the next story chapter, Caprico discovers he is one of the Envoys of the God of Styling.

Fun Facts

-This Reflection marks Caprico's second time in Ruins.

[clementine-thedestroyer]

141 80’s Arcade AU

Featuring implied/eventual Soap x reader, Gaz x reader, and Ghost x reader.

The small- slightly shabby arcade on the corner- that may not look like much from outside, but was easily the busiest place in town on a Friday night.

Where the constant buzz of games’ themes and sound effects filled the space wall-to-wall, where rows of game cabinets and players crowded the floor, and where you could play a hand full of games for a quarter, but the rest for a nickel.

Where Soap and Gaz- the two college kids the owner hired as arcade attendants- know you by name from how often you come in- and have long since begun to involve you in their shenanigans.

Where Price, the owner of the arcade, can usually be found helping Soap and Gaz or, on slower days, in the back of the building in his “office” (because it’s really a converted cleaning closet). Usually with the door propped open so he can keep an eye on the arcade as he leans back in his desk chair and props his feet up on the corner of his messy desk- giving both customers and Soap or Gaz a stern glare if they start to get too rowdy.

Where Price will never chastise you quite as firmly as he does Soap or Gaz when the three of you cause trouble, even if it had been mostly your idea. Where, when he had found out Soap, Gaz, and you spent an entire day trying (and almost succeeding) to get the leaderboard of one of the less popular games to spell out a minor profanity, he thought it was hilarious. He spent a good minute cracking up at the misspelled curse before wiping the machine’s memory and ruffling your hair before going back to his office- still chuckling to himself.

Where Soap and Gaz won’t let you leave when the arcade closes for the night. Instead, they’ll insist that it’s fine if you stay while they shut down for the night. No, no, of course Price won’t mind. Why would he? It’s you.

Where soap and Gaz coerce you into staying late enough times- sometimes just chatting, other times helping them close up- that Price starts to joke that he needs to talk to you about getting you a paycheck sooner or later.

Where Price always insists that “just John’s fine, love.” whenever you address him as “Mr. Price”.

Where, as finals week at the local college approaches, Gaz (and Soap too, to an extent) is overwhelmed with school work, and you find yourself more and more just trying to… help out. Because poor Gaz is drowning in course work, and it’s really not that big of a deal for you to just wipe up that spill before either of them notice it.

Where there’s actually a fourth person important at the arcade, although you don’t know him.

Ghost had worked there with Soap and Gaz a few years ago, back when the three of them were still young enough to be considered teenagers. But where Gaz and Soap had chosen to stay close, Ghost had left as soon as he could.

He still visits- and is just as close with Soap, Price, and Gaz as before- but he hasn’t had a chance to come around since you’ve begun to get close with them.

But, when he finds out about Gaz, Soap, and even Price’s new favorite person- he decides he wants to get to know you too. From the way Soap and Gaz talk about you, he’s not sure what to expect. He hasn’t seen them this worked up in a while.

But, in place of actually meeting you, he decides it would be absolutely hilarious to beat every highscore you’ve ever set and forbid Soap and Gaz from telling you who he is.

Call it… initiation. That’s what he’s calling it, at least.

Cue you very angrily trying to figure out who the fucking hell “Ghost” is, because for the 3rd time, they’ve beaten your high score by exactly 1 point.

But also cue Soap and Gaz giggling as snapping a photo of your red, angry face to send to a group chat with ghost.

[gregorygerwitz]

Greg "Mouse" Gerwitz, technology consultant

"You've got more tactical training than anyone else in this building." "Yeah. But I'm a civilian now. I'm happy behind my computer."

Things were kind of exactly what Mouse expected them to be when he got back to Chicago. It wasn't exactly a willing move, after they were almost blown up and stuck in hospital beds for weeks, but he got to go home and be comfortable afterwards, at least for a few years. He went back to a life where there were cameras pointed at him during every event, where he showed up to every fundraiser with a smile and coy comments about the absence of a lucky woman in his life. It wasn't perfect, but it was familiar enough that it was easy.

When he finally mustered up the courage to tell his parents why he never brought a date to any of those events, that ease was ripped out from under his feet. It put him in a cheap apartment with no working heater just before winter. It left him with a conditional meal every two weeks as long as he behaved while they were in public. It ended in a scene that he would have rather avoided, and his best friend finding out about a secret he'd been trying to hold onto so tightly...

Because the last time he told someone, he lost the only family he knew.

But that best friend was sitting by his bed when he opened his eyes a week and a half later, when he'd decided that the world he was living in wasn't worth staying in. That best friend offered a couch, in an apartment that wasn't freezing, and free food that didn't come with conditions. And he was allowed to stay as long as he needed to, or as long as he wanted, whether he got clean and functioned as a member of society or not. It was more support than he'd ever gotten from his parents, even with their seemingly endless bank account and time in the spotlight.

Living with Jay was good, and no part of him wanted to leave, so he didn't. As time went on, Mouse did get clean, leaving even the over the counter painkillers in the back of the medicine cabinet unless it was a particularly bad day. He got a job, and then another one when that didn't work out, and another, and another. When an old contact invited him to do something legal, doing minor repairs on ticket machines and printers at the airport, he found out he liked it. He'd missed working with technology, looking up information on Google to quiz Jay before a final not nearly as satisfying. And, even if he couldn't always work with machines, he could stay on at the airport and do odd jobs on the clock for whoever needed it.

He'd been fixing up a slow loading connection at a terminal desk when he actually made a friend that he didn't live with. Kim was a flight attendant, and she was friendly, and she'd brought him a silly little magnet from a layover in Florida to thank him for fixing the computer. And that turned into magnets from every layover, and coffee when she was in Chicago, and jokes that no one else understood, and a friendship that lasted beyond when she switched careers.

In fact, she was the one who recommended him when a tech position opened up with the Chicago Police Department. It was better than fixing ticket terminals and running from one end of the airport to the other just for ten minutes to eat an over priced lunch. It was regular hours, and a steady paycheck, and he didn't have to worry about not making his half of the rent just because everything at O'Hare happened to run smoothly for a week.

[ Jay ]

[piecanl]

I heard you were looking :0 -

okay but what if q!tubbo died.

okay but what if he died saving sunny.

okay but what if he died giving Sunny his last heart because he was still on a two-heart system.

okay but what if he died because of an accident. Any kind of accident. Deaths are tragedies, in which both when he died in a tragic accident or died in the most normal way. His deaths are unnoticeable if you haven't checked because he always came back the same. Although it became a little bit off. They moved on. Tubbo moved on. His heart didn't.

okay but what if he died because he didn’t want to use anything to heal because he thought dying and then reviving was faster than chugging down a whole golden apple. He doesn’t care anymore. He is numb. He is on one heart. He threw himself in the machine so he could have a quick death because several seconds later he was back revived on his bed.

(he ignored his twisted and gruesome corpses lying around the machine)

(he uses them to power the machines when coal isn’t sufficient. He now wash the machines twice a day to make sure Sunny won't find out.) (She did. She didn't tell him.)

okay but what if it is actually an accident. Everyone thought he wore armour. He didn’t. Someone one-tapped him playfully and when they realized he was long gone.

okay but what if he doesn’t die. What if he was forced to live until everyone else died and everyone left, but he, and him alone, remained on the island. The buildings were demolished, the ponds polluted, and legends said he was still working on the avocado toast machine because it fucking broke again.

(he had no one to feed the avocado toast to. He ignores the thought and pretends there is someone else. He feeds to the polished, preserved signs on the ground, on the walls, on his machines.)

okay but what if he lived. Not forever, but long enough the islanders came to a realization that he doesn’t really age. What if the federation realized he doesn’t really age - yet - because now he doesn't age anymore. There is a difference between a long-lived life and an immortal. Similar in pain, yet different nonetheless. He wasn't ready.

okay but what if he died but no one knows, because no one remembers him, lost in the swirls of the time-traveling machine evermore. He wasn't there in the past, nor the present or future. His daughter is safe, safe in the past, safe in the clutches of the islander's past lives that he knew 'he' hadn't met. He isn't safe, because time swallowed him whole. A price paid for trespassing a realm that no mortal should step in.

okay but what if he died because a sin for a sin, a cage for a cage.

(he doesn't know what sin did he commit - he burned down a world, an alarm always ringing at the back of his head, a prison that has no escape.)

(he doesn't know what cage was he trapped in - a yellow-and-black concrete, on a stage, a firework, and a festival.)

(he knows now.)

okay but what if he just doesn’t want to live anymore. No one can stop him from dying. He planned the plan meticulously, no one found out - Sunny did, but it was too late. He died in the water - blue was always his favourite color. Or he was frozen to death, but this time no one came to dig him out of the ice cave. He was sinking to the bottom before anyone realized what was happening. Guess the will he made long ago did have some use.

okay but what if no one attended his own funeral except his ghost left on the island, because no one knew. He buried his corpse, he wrote his own scripts, he placed his own flowers. It was thousands of blocks away from the explored land, so it made sense no one came.

what if he died?

[luxe-pauvre]

It all goes back to Mozart. When the musical mastermind composed his 14th string quartet in G major (K. 387) in 1782, he needed four people to perform it. Now, 250 years later, it still requires exactly four. If you’re looking to up your violin’s production capacity, the most you can do is play a little faster. Put another way: Some things in life, like music, resist all attempts at greater efficiency. While we can produce coffee machines ever faster and more cheaply, a violinist can’t pick up the pace without spoiling the tune. In our race against the machine, it’s only logical that we’ll continue to spend less on products that can be easily made more efficiently and more on labor-intensive services and amenities such as art, healthcare, education, and safety. It’s no accident that countries that score high on well-being, like Denmark, Sweden, and Finland, have a large public sector. Their governments subsidise the domains where productivity can’t be leveraged. Unlike the manufacture of a fridge or a car, history lessons and doctor’s checkups can’t simply be made “more efficient.” The natural consequence is that the government is gobbling up a growing share of the economic pie. First noted by the economist William Baumol in the 1960s, this phenomenon, now known as “Baumol’s cost disease,” basically says that prices in labor-intensive sectors such as healthcare and education increase faster than prices in sectors where most of the work can be more extensively automated. But hold on a minute. Shouldn’t we be calling this a blessing, rather than a disease? After all, the more efficient our factories and our computers, the less efficient our healthcare and education need to be; that is, the more time we have left to attend to the old and infirm and to organise education on a more personal scale. Which is great, right? According to Baumol, the main impediment to allocating our resources toward such noble ends is “the illusion that we cannot afford them. As illusions go, this one is pretty stubborn. When you’re obsessed with efficiency and productivity, it’s difficult to see the real value of education and care. Which is why so many politicians and taxpayers alike see only costs. They don’t realise that the richer a country becomes the more it should be spending on teachers and doctors. Instead of regarding these increases as a blessing, they’re viewed as a disease.

Rutger Bregman, Utopia For Realists: And How We Can Get There

[dailyunsolvedmysteries]

Murder of Robert Eric Wone

On August 2, 2006, Wone was fatally stabbed while staying overnight at a rowhouse on Swann Street in Washington's Dupont Circle neighborhood, owned by Price and his domestic partner Victor Zaborsky, where they lived with Dylan Ward as a polyamorous family unit. Wone had gone to Price's residence at approximately 10:30pm after working late, as had been arranged days before. Neighbors reported hearing a scream, later identified as Zaborsky's, during the 11:00pm newscast (i.e., before 11:35 PM). Zaborsky made a 9-1-1 call at 11:49 PM and paramedics arrived five minutes later, followed by the officers of the Metropolitan Police Department (MPDC). Price phoned Wone's wife, and Wone was pronounced dead at George Washington University Hospital at 12:24 AM on August 3. Price, Zaborsky and Ward all initially spoke with the police without attorneys, and video recordings of those interviews were shown at the subsequent conspiracy trial. The three men denied any involvement in Wone's death and speculated that an intruder had killed him. The three also denied any sexual relationship with Wone, and Wone's family have described him as both "straight and happily married". All three men attended Wone's funeral, where Price served as a pallbearer. Future U.S. Attorney General Eric Holder, who at that time worked at Wone's former employer Covington & Burling, called Wone "a kind and gentle man" who was "killed in the most horrible of ways". Paramedics responding to the emergency call "found the three residents’ calm behavior unusual; none were screaming or even helping direct the paramedics". According to Ward's attorney, detectives who interrogated the three housemates on the night of the killing informed them that they were the main suspects in the case, and asked many sexually charged, accusatory questions. Three days after the killing, the Gay and Lesbian Liaison Unit of the MPDC were called in, but unit head Sgt. Brett Parson declined to discuss the unit's involvement. Within two weeks of the murder, police publicly alleged that the crime scene had been tampered with. Investigators spent more than three weeks examining the Swann Street rowhouse in detail, "removing flooring, pieces of walls, a chunk of staircase, the washing machine, even sink traps". Allegations that the area around Wone's body had been cleaned were revealed in an affidavit in support of a search warrant for Price's offices at the D.C. law firm. The case remains unsolved.

[seven-meds]

Are the marble photos your post of your own? As in, do you have a marble collection? I've been getting into collecting them myself recently and I'd love to know if you have recommendations on where to find cool ones / any thoughts you have about collecting!

I'm so happy to hear that you are beginning your own collection! More people should get into the hobby, I think… the only thing I have yet to do is attend a marble show or meetup. Perhaps someday.

All of the marble pictures I share are of marbles I personally own. My collection is fairly broad at this point and you can see many of them here on my website. Collecting marbles is deeply fulfilling to me, I love and cherish my marbles and consider them to be in some way alive. Not sentient in the traditional sense, but perhaps like a coral reef. Beautiful and thriving. I feel a deep kinship with marbles, they aren't like a small hoard upon which I sit, they are more like representative shards.

Getting into collecting marbles is not simple and it will take time to learn the ropes - how to understand what you want, how to seek out individual marbles, how to reliably ID certain marbles, how to understand what is an appropriate asking price for a marble. As always, I first recommend familiarizing oneself with marble makers and their output - Marble Alan is a great resource for this. Marbles are categorized into two broad and self-explanatory camps: handmade and machine made. Knowing which you'd like to focus on is step one. I collect primarily vintage machine mades.

It is absolutely required that you learn how to use eBay if you want to earnestly collect marbles. This is where the sellers are. Some sellers have their own sites, like Marble Mary (I've purchased from her before), and contemporary makers use sites like Esty, but eBay is where you will spend the bulk if your time. eBay has it's own fairly detailed guide for using the site effectively (The one thing I wish I'd known when I began using the site is that the make an offer option is encouraged and worthwhile! Haggle if you are given the chance!).

On eBay you are allowed to save individual searches, and searches can be extremely detailed. What I have done is saved broad searches for different marble companies as well as more narrow searches for specific types of marbles I am seeking and I look through these daily. You will have to do some browsing to learn marble lingo; any sought after marble will have its own special name that you can search for to narrow down the amount of results you must sift through. Marble collecting is an extremely organized hobby, you will be surprised how easy it is to understand and navigate once you invest the time.

For a first timer, I always recommend either Jabo or D.A.S. marbles, two more modern (but now sadly defunct) companies. They're gorgeous, affordable, and easy to find, a great place to start. Browsing through them is also a simple way to begin the foray into learning how marbles are categorized and named, as Jabo and D.A.S. titled every "run" of marbles that they created.

If you would like more help or have any detailed questions, feel free to email me (seven.meds@gmail.com)! I have been doing this for years and am more than willing to pass down the knowledge that I have gleaned to a new collector. Like all hobbies, this will take time to learn but it is more than worth it.