#truck parking crisis

[artisticdivasworld]

Truck Parking Revisited

Every day all over the country, drivers are using their last hour of driving time to try to find a safe place to park their rig.. It’s no secret that the lack of truck parking out there is getting ridiculous. Every day, drivers have to resort to parking in an unsafe place or risk going over their allotted HOS—it’s dangerous for you, your cargo, and other drivers on the road. Some have to park on…

[fallingtheseus]

christmas is so weird why is there a float with the birth of christ at this parade

[nando161mando]

Wildfires are Burning in Manhattan

https://abc7ny.com/post/nyc-tri-state-wildfires-fire-crews-battle-brush-inwood-hill-park/15558781/

[kitkatpancakestack]

Bobby needs to have a crisis and invest all his savings into a food truck. it's finally time for them to give me what I want. he needs to make comfort food and dole out fatherly advice. he needs to call it "Nash On This." most importantly he needs to park it right outside the firehouse and then follow the 118 to all their calls and constantly be up in their business like he never left. all while wearing his fabulous apron and wielding his whisk. Impeccable.

[thealtoduck]

The One Where A Model Moves In Upstairs

Joey Tribbiani x Male Reader

Warnings: Implied abuse from your ex, the guys assume you’re a girl…

Summary: The guys find out that a model moved in to the apartment above Joey and Chandler’s…

——

Rachel and Monica walked towards the enterance of their apartment building where they saw a moving truck parked outside filled with boxes and furniture. ”Is someone moving in?” Rachel questioned. ”Yeah, i heard that someone got the apartment above Joey and Chandler” Monica explained.

”Come on, let’s go welcome them” Rachel said, Monica uttred a quick ”Yeah” in agreement amd the two made their way over. A young man came out from the apartmen building and picked up one of the boxes.

Rachel and Monica immediately noticed how handsome he was. Rachel could have sworn she’d seen him before somewhere. ”Hi, excuse us, are you the one moving in to this building?” Rachel asked. ”Yeah, i am, do you live here?” you questioned cheerfully.

”Yeah, we live on the third floor, I’m Monica and this is Rachel” Monica introduced the two. ”Nice to meet you two, I’m Y/n, I’m moving on to the fourth floor” you told them. Rachel then had a moment of realisation. ”Oh my god” she exclaimed. ”Now i remember you’re the model Y/n L/n” she said excitedly and you nodded in confirmation.

”I loved the photoshoot you did for Vogue last month” Rachel said. ”Thank you so much, it’s always nice to meet people who appreciate my work” you thanked her. Monica then gave a look at the truck behind you. ”Would you like some help bringing up all the boxes?” she offered.

”I mean if you don’t mind some help would be really nice” you said. The two then helped you bring all the boxes up to the apartment.

——

Later that day when Rachel and Monica were back in their apartment Joey entered taking some food from the fridge as usual. ”Hey Joey” Rachel greeted. ”Hey Rachel” Joey said mouth full of food. ”Did you meet the model?” she asked.

”The model?” Joey questioned, his interest peaking. ”Yeah, a model moved in to the apartment above yours” Monica told him. ”Really? Was she hot? Bet she’s a real smoke show” Joey asked and started fantasizing.

”Uhm… Joey the model is a gu-” Monica tried but Joey cut her off saying excitedly ”I gotta go tell Chandler” and he walked out the door back to his own apartment. ”Should-… Should we tell him?” Rachel asked. ”No, he needs to learn to listen. Plus, this will be more fun” Monica said.

——

While you were unpacking cardboard boxes there came an eager knock on the door. You got up from the floor and walked to the door. You opened it and your eyes were met with three rather handsome guys, one of which were leaning against the doorframe, all their eyes widened slightly once they saw you.

”Hi, can i help you?” you greeted. ”Uhm, is your sister home?” One of them asked. ”I don’t have a sister” you answered awkwardly. ”Is your mom home?” Another one tried. ”No, she dosen’t live here” you told them. ”The model! Where’s the model?!” The guy who had been leaning against the door yelled in deperation.

”Oh… I’m the model” you told the three, making their eyes widen again. ”Welcome to the building” a guy with brown hair said nicely and a guy with short black hair added a quick ”Yeah”. The two then sprinted away in embarassment. Leaving only the guy who had been leaning against the doorframe.

His suprised face then turned in to a flirty smile and he said ”How you doin’?”. ”I’m fine” you said a bit stunned from the interaction with the other two. ”Heard from my friends that you just moved in and wanted to personally come welcome you” he explained. ”I’m Joey Tribbiani, and if you ever need anything i’m just one apartment below” he introduced himself charmingly.

”Nice to meet you Joey, I’m Y/n L/n” you told him.

——

Joey was having a major crisis, he had been flirting with a guy. He’d never done that before in his whole life, but you were so breathtakingly beautiful he couldn’t help himself. Now he didn’t know what to do.

He entered the central perk where the others were waiting. ”Hey Joey, what’s up?” Phoebe greeted. ”Hey, it’s nothing, it’s just this guy Y/n, he’s so awesome but in like the way chicks are awesome, it’s so confusing”. The friends gave each other a look before looking back at Joey.

Monica then voiced their thoughts by asking ”Joey, are you trying to say you’re ”intrigued” by a guy?”. ”Maybe, i’m not sure” he said. ”Well-Well-Well looks like Joey the ladiesman has become Joey the mansman” Ross joked.

”Hey Joey Tribbiani is for everybodies enjoyment, okay?” Joey stated seriously.

”Are you gonna ask him out?” Rachel asked. ”I don’t know, how do you even go about asking a guy out?” Joey questioned, which was followed by a long thinking silence. ”How do you girls ask guys out?” Ross asked looking at Rachel, Phoebe and Monica.

”We don’t know, guys usually asks us out” Phoebe said and the other two nodded in agreement. ”Guess you’ll just have to figure it out” Chandler said leaving Joey to his thoughts.

——

Next time you and Joey met he would get his chance to talk to you. You were awkwardly dragging a large package up the stairs. Joey then appeared from the bottom stairs saying ”Hey Y/n, what’s in the package?”.

”It’s my new dinner table, could you help me get it up to my apartment?” you asked. ”Of course” Joey said eagerly, immediately grabbing the package and helping you carry it. Once you entered the apartment you put the package down.

”Thanks you so much for the help, Joey” you said gratefully, you kneeled down and started opening the package. ”No problem, will you be fine from here?” he asked helpfully. You then picked up a thick building manual from the package as realisation kicked in, you looked up at Joey from the ground and said ”No, i don’t think so”.

”I’ll get some tools” Joey said opening the door and went down to get a toolbox in his apartment.

”Thank you” you called after him.

——

After several hours of trials and tribulations you and Joey had managed to put together the dinner table. ”Thank you so much, Joey, anything you need just ask, i promise i’ll do something nice for you” you thanked him gratefully. Joey smiled and saw his moment.

”Well there was one thing i wanted to ask you-” he started but was cut off by a large banging on the door.

”Y/n! Are you there?” A male voice asked, Joey went to open the door but you stopped him saying ”Don’t open the door, it’s my ex, i really don’t wanna see him”. Joey noticed how tense you had become.

Another set of violent knocks came. ”Y/n! I know you’re in there! Open the door!” his voice came again, louder this time. ”Go to your room, i’ll take care of him” Joey told you. ”Joey, I-” you started but Joey reasured you ”Don’t worry i’ll handle him”. You did as told and went in to your bedroom.

Joey opened the door and was met with another man. The man seemed suprised seeing Joey ”Who are you?” he asked. ”I’m Joey. You should get out of here, man, Y/n dosen’t wanna see you” Joey told him patiently. ”I just want to talk to him” your ex said and tried to make his way in only for Joey to block his enterance with his arm.

”I said he dosen’t wanna see you” Joey said sternly. The guy grew annoyed and hissed ”Hey, this is none of you business, man, so stay out of it and let me in”. ”It is my business if you’re harassing one of my friends, so get out of here now before we call the police” Joey threatened.

Your ex glared at Joey before stomping away angrily, Joey closed the door and locked it. You came out of you room saying gratefully ”Thank you, Joey”. ”Hey, no problem-” he was caught of guard as you wrapped your arms around him in a tight hug.

Joey then hugged you back saying ”If he comes back, you let me know and i’ll deal with him, okay?”. ”Thank you” you said putting you face against his shoulder. ”Was there something you wanted to ask before?” you then remembered.

It hardly felt like the right time to ask you out so Joey settled for ”Me and the others were planning on grabbing some pizza and rent a movie, would you like to join us?”.

You smiled and answered ”I’d love to”.

[aerynwrites]

Familiarity

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

Summary: Reader has reached their breaking point and Simon just happens to be in the right place at the right time. Word Count: 2.8k Warnings: **PLEASE READ ALL TAGS!!!** Descriptions of Suicidal thoughts, ideation, and attempted Suicide!!! Thwarted suicide attempt, hurt/comfort, this really is just a coping piece, no romance, tiny bit of fluff at the end kinda. A/N: if you are struggling with thoughts like these please reach out to somone (988 Suicide and Crisis Lifeline). The anniversary of a friends passing occurred recently and I was having a harder time with it than usual. this popped into my head and wouldn't leave. I wish someone had been there for them in that moment. If you are struggling with thoughts like these please reach out to someone. there is ALWAYS someone who cares and will miss you. You are loved. You matter. And someones life won't be the same without you.

It’s cold. Colder than you were expecting it to be tonight, but maybe that would make it easier. you heard somewhere once that the cold water would shock the body and make you breathe in and then…

You shiver despite the winter jacket you wear, the only thing grounding you in this moment the paint flecking off beneath your fingers of the decrepit metal bridge, the cold seeping into your bones. The rubber soles of your boots squeak softly on the railing beneath them, the water rushing quietly a few hundred feet below. It had just rained for almost a week straight, the river is higher than normal, the current tumultuous. It would be quick.

You hope.

It’s also more lonely than you expected - as odd as that may sound. In reality you did pick this spot for a reason, not only because you drove by it often, but because it seemed desolated. Less likely for someone to roll up on you in this precarious moment. But you thought there might be birds singing or crickets chirping or…something except your own screaming thoughts and the breath catching in your throat.

Your eyes drift upwards, away from the watery tomb that lies in your future, out to your shitty car parked in the tiny gravel lot by the start of the bridge. You can see the faint white outline of the envelope you left behind sitting on the dash. You didn’t want anyone wasting resources on searching for you, so you left a note behind - and to maybe give closure to anyone who might care.

The cold air sears your lungs as you take a deep breath, knees quaking beauty you as you let it out again, lifting one foot from the railing to lean ever so slightly forward…

——

He couldn’t sleep. Again.

He’s used to that, used to the nightmares and the evil thoughts that taunt him in the early waking hours. But ever since Johnny…they’ve been worse - they never stop and they’re louder. This time he woke up in a cold sweat, Johnny’s voice echoing in his head, a scream he never really let out before he…

Simon clenches the steering wheel tighter, the leather of his gloves creaking with the strength of it.

He’s never taken this route before, but he needs to get away, needs the distraction of discovering and then trying to find his way back. Left, right, straight, left again, go through the stop sign and then…

A bridge.

One he’s never seen before, and on any other night, one he would’ve driven right past if it weren’t for the silhouette his headlights illuminate on the bridge as he turns on the road to pass it. He notices the car next, and tiny little alarm bells go off in his head. And, shamefully, a louder voice just tells him to move on this isn’t his business and he just needs to leave-

He parks his truck beside the car. Gravel crunching under his boots as he exits. His training kicks in without his approval, the part of him that has been taught to observe and gather information. It’s what makes him glance at the interior of the older model sedan, and at first there’s nothing unusual. Trash in the floorboard, mostly fast-food wrappers and…empty pharmacy bags. Articles of clothing tossed in the back seat, multiple old air fresheners hang from the rearview mirror. What strikes him as odd, however, is the handbag abandoned in the passenger seat, cellphone lying next to it, and the white envelope sitting on the dashboard addressed to ‘whom it may concern’ written in shaky script.

His feet carry him towards the bridge before he can think better of it, and the moment he sees the person standing on the railing of the bridge, he feels an almost impercebtible tug in his chest.

Familiarity.

It calls to him, an old friend. The grief, the pain, the anguish, the shame - all of it so consuming and all of it so familiar he can’t stop himself from approaching you. And as he watches your chest heave with a deep breath and your foot lift off the railing as you lean forward, that stupid tug is what makes him call out to you.

“A little cold out for a swim ain’t it?”

———

The voice shocks you, startles you so severely you can’t stop the yelp that slips from your throat as your foot slams back down on the railing, hand scrabbling for purchase against the rusty support beam. You jerk your head to the right to look at the intruder, eyes widening when they fall upon an absolute hulk of a man standing just mere feet from you. His hands are tucked casually into the pockets of his hoodie, stance easy - as if he didn’t just interrupt the most tragic moment of your life-

“What the fuck are you doing?” You practically hiss, indignation bubbling up inside you.

You can’t even manage to kill yourself without something going wrong.

The man shrugs, “Could ask you the same thing.”

He takes a step forward and you bristle, leaning away from him and further towards the water below.

“D-don’t come any closer!” You call, voice shaking despite your best efforts. “I’ll jump. You can’t…you can’t stop me.”

The man just shrugs again, pulling a small carton from the pocket of his hoodie, followed shortly by a lighter. He pulls a cigarette from the box placing it between his lips before lighting it, taking a deep drag before looking up at you again.

“Never said I was tryin’ to stop you,” he says simply, stepping closer to the railing when you don’t protest.

Confusion swims in your belly, heart thundering from the surprise but starting to calm down as the stranger finally comes close enough to lean against the railing you stand on, casting his gaze out over the inky black river.

You finally work up the courage to speak again.

“Then…why are you here?”

The man huffs out a laugh, a bitter dark sounding thing before he takes another drag of his cigarette.

“Couldn’t sleep, needed to clear ‘m head.”

You give a snort of your own, disbelief clogging your mind.

“And you just so happened to come across the person trying to dig her own grave,” you laugh this time, a real one. “What are the fucking odds.”

“Well,” he replies slowly. “You wouldn’t really be diggin’…swimming maybe-”

You scoff again, looking over at him in complete surprise. “You…was that supposed to be a joke?”

You swear you see his lips twitch up in a smile.

“Somethin’ like that.”

Your irritation comes back slightly as your lips tilt downwards. You want to snap at him, tell him to fuck off, to go away and just let you do this in peace - but something stops you. Fear maybe. Curiosity. you’re not sure what it is exactly but it implores you to ask -

“Nightmares?”

More paint chips away beneath your nails, falling down into the waters below, your eyes following its descent. You see the man nod in your peripheral.

“Get ‘em every night…but tonight was worse.”

It falls silent again as his words hang in the air, and neither of you say anything for a long while. You stand there still contemplating your demise and the stranger finishes his cigarette before flicking the butt of it away over the railing.

“I get it you know,” he says finally, voice softer than it has been so far, gentler.

You look at him, brows pinched in confusion, and he gestures to you then the water.

“I get it,” he reiterates, lips pinched in a thin line.

His words earn another scoff from you, and that bitter pit in your chest grows blacker. Darker.

Here we go, you think. Another good samaritan trying to tell you that you have so much to live for. Don’t do it. It will get better. Just look on the bright side.

You shake your head, looking back out over the water.

“I highly doubt it,” you say bitterly, eyes starting to burn with unshed tears that threaten to betray you.

The man shrugs and leans heavier on the railing. “Can’t doubt what you don’t know,” he trails off for a moment. “You wanna talk ‘bout it?”

You shake your head, eyes clenching shut when you feel the tears fall.

Goddammit, not now…

But before you can stop it, words come spilling from your lips, like a waterfall that never ends. All of your woes, your anger, your grief, your sadness, the demons that haunt you both awake and asleep. The perceived failures that never end, the never-ending hopelessness and seems to stretch out before you like a yawning cavern.

All of it.

And he listens.

You don’t even know how long you go on for, voice shaking, tears dripping from your chin, knees quaking beneath you as you dump all of this on some stranger who just happened upon you, until you finally stop, taking a deep shuddering breath and facing the water again.

“I just want it all to be over,” you finally whisper. “I’m so tired.”

The man nods, standing a little straighter now.

“My best friend was shot right in front of me,” he says softly, his own eyes now distant when you look at him.

“We’re military - comes with the territory. But he…” he takes a shaky breath of his own, “Johnny was different.”

A beat of silence.

“I went through all the same shit. Ended up in the same place you are,” he gestures to you, “but instead of a bridge I wanted a bullet. Got plastered, was just about to go through with it when I some how managed to get on the phone with my Captain…” he lets out a sigh that sounds so world weary you feel it in your very bones.

“He talked me down. Helped me get things back on track - as on track as they could be without Johnny.”

He looks to you then, and for the first time since he approached you tonight’s you’re able to see the color of his eyes. They’re brown - a deep dark brown that’s more expressive than you were anticipating.

You study him for a moment longer.

“Is that what you’re here to do? Talk me down?”

The man shakes his head, the movement allowing the light to illuminate the scar that runs from his eyebrow down to his upper lip. Yet another thing you missed.

“No. Don’t need to,” he says casually. “You were never going to jump.”

Indignation flares its ugly head again, but it’s quickly tempered by the confusion bubbling in your belly.

“What…how could you possibly know that? I was going to do it.”

The man shakes his head again, this time turning to face you fully.

“If you were going to do it, you would’ve done it the minute I walked up to you. Now-”

He reaches out a scarred hand, and you see the barest hint of black ink peaking out from beneath his sleeve.

“Let’s get you down from there.”

You hesitate, eyes trailing back to the water rushing beneath you before trailing back to this strange man on the bridge. You could jump, you could do it right now and he wouldn’t get to you in time.

So you turn.

And his hand is surprisingly warm, soft even. Despite the scars and calloused palms. His hand cradles yours so delicately as he helps you down from the railing, his other hand reaching out to grip your waist to ease your descent.

“That’s it.”

Shame washes over you the moment your feet touch solid ground, and the man must senses it, because a firm hand settles on your shoulder, squeezing gently.

“I’m sorry-”

“None of that,” he chastises lightly, shaking his head. “Y’got nothing to be sorry for.”

You can only nod, eyes trailing slowly up from the ground to finally look at him face to face. To some people he might seem scary or intimidating - what with his tall stature and the scars on his face or even his demeanor. But to you, right now, all you can sense is solidarity - a warmth. An understanding you haven’t felt in a long time.

So, before you can really think about what you’re doing you’re leaning forward and wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug.

He seems surprised by the act, his entire body going stiff beneath your own. But just when you move to pull away, a pair of arms wraps around you in kind. The hug is longer than usual, but it would appear that both of you needed it. And when you do pull away, neither of you step much further apart.

“What’s your name?” You ask, breaking the silence that had fallen over both of you.

He thinks for a moment, as if hesitant to reveal more of himself to you than he already has.

So you extend an olive branch in the form of your own name and watch as his shoulder sag ever so slightly before he answers your question.

“Simon.”

You can only nod, and soon a silence falls over you both once again. This one a bit more tense than the others.

What do you do now? There’s no rulebook for this - not step by step; what to do when someone stops you from jumping off a bridge. There’s so much you want to say, but your thoughts are a jumbled confused mess and now you feel foolish and-

“There’s a spot up the road a ways that opens early,” Simon says, interrupting your thoughts. “I could use a bite. You in?”

The invitation startles you. It’s so casual, so…normal, in the face of what just transpired that you can’t stop the smile that tugs at your lips at the absurdity of it all. But then you fumble for your phone before remembering you left it in the car.

“Early? What time is it?”

Simon turns a muscled forearm over, tugging at his hoodie sleeve to peak at his watch.

“A little past four a.m.”

You suck in a breath, shock coloring your features. You got to the bridge at midnight. You didn’t even realize how much time had passed…

A gentle pat on your shoulder pulls you back to the moment as Simon turns to start walking back to the small gravel lot.

“Come on,” he says, leaving no room for refusal, “They have good pancakes. Johnny-” you watch as his steps falter slightly before he continues.

“Johnny always raved about them,” he turns back to look at you then. “My treat.”

You manage to send him another small smile, nodding.

“Can’t exactly turn down a free meal, now can I?”

Simon lets out a chuckle, so soft you might have missed it if it wasn’t so quiet out.

“You’d be the first.”

Neither of you say much on the short journey back to your parked cars. Only when you get there, Simon gives you the name of the restaurant to plug into your GPS before turning to walk to his truck.

Your car door squeaks loudly when you open it, and you slide into the drivers seat. Moving to close the door, you pause - the small white envelope catching your eye.

Reaching for it, you take it in hand and eye the shaky writing on the front. Instinctively you want to shove it in your purse, that tiny voice in the back of your head telling you that you’d need it again one day. But another voice, a new one - rough and gravelly with a Manchester accent is just a little bit louder and before you can think twice your out of the car and walking back toward the bridge.

You hear slightly hurried footsteps behind you, and you can picture Simon slightly panicked thinking your rushing back to finish the job. But you stop at the railing, white envelope crushed between your fingers as you look back out over the dark water.

The footsteps behind you stop, assessing, waiting for your next move.

So, with one last glance at the paper in your hands, you take a deep breath and rip in half. Then rip it in half again and again and again - until nothing but tiny scraps remain. The flat between your fingers like sand, falling down, down to the waters below in a manmade snowfall, the wind picking up and carrying pieces away until you can no longer see any evidence of the object at all.

You turn, and Simon is smiling - a real smile.

“Come on,” you say, walking towards him and your parked cars once again. “I want some pancakes.”

And as you both walk together, his shoulder brushing your own…You can’t help but feel just a little bit lighter.

A little less alone.

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved in our archive

by: Beck Levy

“Maybe now vocalists will finally start bringing their own mics,” I tweeted in the first days of March 2020. My virtual audience was mostly friends I met by participating in subcultures in and adjacent to the DIY tendency of hardcore punk rock. In those early days, we on the cultural fringes shared a sense that the pandemic, in its capacity as a social intervention, could meaningfully disrupt the oppressive ruling order.

When I booked and played shows before COVID-19 hit, I tried to harness energy and rally when crisis arose. Touring band is lost on the road? I was ready to DJ to keep people from leaving between sets. No one came to unlock the club? Let’s play in the parking lot. The last show I’d played, just weeks earlier during Mardi Gras, was on a trailer being pulled by a dump truck. We’re responsive to shifting circumstances, right?

I couldn’t get a clear look at the new terrain through the brutal haze of my first-wave infection. I was disoriented, waking up breathless, fevered, delirious from nightmares about drowning in my own blood. I could not fathom taking any action that would contribute to COVID-19 circulating, and my symptoms made me believe I would be a risk to my community. With home tests scarce, every flare had me conceiving of myself as though I might be a biological weapon.

Friends texted their fears to me frantically: “Is music over? Are shows done?” I thought back to informal and unconventional gigs, the freedom and potentiality those moments held, and reassured my friends, sequestered in our separate biomes. I said and believed: “Music always finds a way, youth culture always finds a way, underground culture always finds a way.”

Slowly, reimagined, remote, and socially-distanced events returned. In lieu of Jazz Fest, New Orleans radio station WWOZ charmed us with “festing in place” on the airwaves. I did a solo set in a virtual anniversary showcase for my old record label. Another friend live streamed a show from a cavernous church. I’d guessed performances mediated by technology might salt the wound, but desperate for connection, I treasured those experiences.

I watched my place in the world creep away from me. There were rumors of scandalous secret shows during lockdown. But the first real sign was pictures on Instagram of people traveling and touring again. Scroll to that last image: a row of COVID-19 tests, all negative, smug. Or positive, chagrined but only a little; a mismatch to the scale of: “For fun I traveled as a disease vector and personally participated in the proliferation of an airborne pathogen that can kill or maim.” Was it a character limit? A limitation of character?

The world passed me by, carouseling through normalization phases, like COVID-19 tests phasing their way out of tour posts. I watched scenes regroup from my new vantage point in biopolitical exile. Pandemic gloom catalyzed a spate of reunions, which is wholesome and beautiful except for the fact that at least one band knowingly toured with a member who tested positive.

Was I overreacting? While COVID-19 left me with an immune system that attacks my body, my mind attacked itself with this question. I’d traded amps for this mental feedback loop. The counterargument was implicit: people need unfettered access to music more than we need safety.

Live music came back. It just didn’t bring me with it.

I didn’t see a critical mass of bookers, venues, or bands advocating for COVID-19 safety with measures like outdoor shows, improved ventilation, livestream options, or just adding tests and masks to the earplug bin at the door. Some hand disinfectant; a little hygiene theater at conventional venues. The will just wasn’t there. I thought our deal was fuck the state, we’ll do it our way. I found myself slipping through the subcultural safety net that exists for outcasts who are slipping through the cracks of mass culture and late capitalism.

Of course, punk was already inaccessible to some. And I actually believe a certain amount of gatekeeping is necessary to protect punk from posers, jerks, and cops. But among the nebulous community clustered around shows, the sexism and racism people have experienced has always been very real, to the tune of entire zines, books, films about that exclusion. I monitored my heartbreak, critically. Resource-scarce, informal, and underground operations often exist at a quagmire of conflicting access needs. Was the sting of betrayal just this painful because it affected me, directly? Can the subaltern mosh?

There was a brief period where my baseline had plateaued, and I enjoyed medium-functionality between flares. Clinging to my modest recovery, a memorial service was my first congregant risk. That was the last time I tried to play guitar. I got the twisties, psychic vertigo from grief and from the contradiction of my setting and my experience, but the band played on, complete with a brass section. And at that otherwise beautiful event, I was ceremoniously reinfected by an asymptomatic tuba player. My health has been steadily deteriorating ever since.

Isolation is hard: it can feel like rejection, it can feel real personal. I struggled to adapt. I know I can have a persecution complex, but I also know I’m materially being made surplus. So what do I tell the complex? Are people being thoughtless, or do they explicitly not give a fuck about immunocompromised people like me?

Life is never totally safe, danger is often exciting, sometimes risk is the point. I know that. I’m not (just) a joyless scold. In the era of potentially deadly airborne pathogens, we’re playing with other lives when we make “individual” health decisions—I thought we’d learned that, but there was no such reckoning.

Punks accepted the sociological production of the end of the pandemic, moving in lockstep with the state, sacrificing medically vulnerable people on the altar of pleasure, just as the state had sacrificed us on the altar of capital. I thought our ingenuity would create new forms of shows. Instead, it exposed our limits under duress. To quote the band Allergic to Bullshit, “If this is what we’re for, this is what we’ll get.”

Maybe my shock seems naïve—after all, there’s a difference between “subculture” and “counterculture”—but there’s a reason I expected better. There are visionaries with love, passion, and fearlessness who organize shows in strip malls, caves, skateparks, churches, parking garages; shows with immediacy like distributing free Narcan, and conviction, like benefits toward Palestinian liberation. I await, with diminishing faith, the eruption of that tendency in the bioethical arena.

Since immune ableism is hegemonic, congregating is a question of building a realistic threat model, making decisions with people who are directly impacted by your actions, and taking all possible precautions. I’m encouraged by radical formations with accessibility modifications, particularly those connecting social abandonment, climate crisis, and genocide. I see this reflected in art book fairs that require masking, outdoor Shabbatot, test-first leftist reading groups. Queer and drag events are making adjustments. Mask blocs and clean air clubs collaborate, with limited resources, to make spaces more accessible. These are people who insist on collective health, demanding freedom to live and breathe clean air.

For those of us with severe Long COVID, exclusion from live music represents a profound loss of humanity. This disconnection feeds into my daily despair; in medical terms, my depersonalization/derealization. Having hoped this crisis would push us closer to communism than complacency, I feel whiplash, what Naomi Klein calls “political vertigo.” Millions of Americans with Long COVID have disappeared from the workforce. Data on the underground music scene are unavailable. It’s hard to count ghosts. I’ve wanted to ask: Have you noticed that some of us are gone? Do you ever miss us?

Four years later, I still can’t even make it to a well-filtered show. My last recreational outing ended in hospitalization from merely ascending a steep hill. I hear about shows from my roommate, the only person I see, who is also the only masked person at them. I tell myself I could try to go to an outdoor gig one day, maybe, if my governing health planets aligned. Instead of being an active musician, I pretend I’m like Jandek, a reclusive genius, but really I’m too clumsy and unfocused to play at home.

I do what I do with everything: act like I’m in a different world. It’s not difficult, because I am. The Well do their thing out there, I do mine in here. I moved across the country in search of better healthcare and, homebound, routinely forget I’m not still in New Orleans. Either way I am inside. I gave up and I don’t fight the world leaving me behind. I am back here, rolling the boulder of my body up steep hills.

In spite of everything, I’m glad shows continue. It’s bittersweet comfort knowing freaks are getting raucous in basements, with noise made by other freaks, sprayed with wet yells, aggressively jostling with teens; in a reprieve from control, experiencing music together. I’d die for your right to do that. And thanks to you, I just might.

[grogwrites]

Frost on the Pines - D.R. 3

~

Summary: After being dropped by RB, Daniel finds himself in Midwest America amidst a midlife crisis, when he meets an intriguing stranger

Pairing: Daniel Ricciardo x Fem OC

CW: just some swearing, very slight suggestive content (blink and you’ll miss it), depictions of an anxiety attack, dual POV, and some angst, but generally just fluff. I absolutely hate YN, so for the sake of the fic, I used the name from my book which is Sadie. You can imagine how you please, though.

A/N: my first fanfic!! Please be kind 🥹🩵 I am an author on the side and am currently writing an F1 romance book. This fic is essentially a one shot/fanfic version of my book hehehe * no part 2 to this one

Word Count: 5.3k

* DISCLAIMER: I do not know any of the people in this fanfiction personally, these are all just the works of my imagination.

~

Daniel didn’t mean to get lost.

Well, okay, maybe he did, but not this lost.

He had been driving down this dirt road for what seemed to be hours, but each time he glanced at the clock on his car radio, only a handful of minutes had passed. There wasn’t a landmark in sight—nothing but grasslands with the occasional cow or two as he drove. Finally accepting defeat, Daniel pulled the rental car off to the side of the road and promptly shifted it into ‘park’. He dug for his phone in his pocket, when much to his dismay, there was no cellphone service.

“Of course,” he let out a soft scoff to himself as he discarded the device on his passenger seat. Running a hand through his hair, he began sorting through his options.

1. On one hand, he could keep driving. He filled up with gas not too long ago in a small town with only one gas station. He had enough in his tank to last him through another few hundred miles.

2. On the other hand, he could turn around and head back to that town where he would have cell service again to call someone—anyone—for help.

The prior sounded much more appealing to him than the latter. Daniel wasn’t sure he had the dignity in him to ask for help when he made the decision to go off the grid to begin with. It was bad enough that RB dropped him, but now he was lost. Figuratively and literally. Formula 1 had been his life for thirteen years. While the posts that fans were sharing online were bittersweet and heartfelt, he couldn’t help but feel sick to his stomach as the reality of his situation settled in.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

He needed to calm down, but his chest felt tight. He felt hot, and cramped—like the world was slowly caving in on him. He didn’t even remember when the tears started welling up in the corners of his eyes, but when his lips grew wet and tasted salty was when the floodgates suddenly burst. He fumbled for the handle on his door, stumbling out in a desperate need for fresh air. In a heated fit of rage and anxiety, he kicked the car a few times. He didn’t hear the pickup truck slowing beside him until an older gentleman called out to him.

“You need a hand?”

Daniel was quick to dry his face of any sort of evidence that he had been crying, then turned to look at the stranger. He was older, probably in his early eighties. His face was wrinkled, with a full grey beard on display. He wore a tattered, old cowboy hat with a red flannel and a pair of jeans. His window was rolled down, while a soft, unfamiliar country song played inside.

“Um, no,” Daniel’s voice was hoarse from crying. He tried to cover it up by clearing his throat, though it didn’t do much. “The car is fine. I’m just—“ his voice trailed off. He wasn’t sure exactly what to say, especially to a stranger.

“Where are you headin’?” The man’s voice had a thick, Midwestern-American accent as he spoke.

“Nowhere,” Daniel shrugged, leaning against the rental car. “Just…away.” The man laughed gruffly, when Daniel heard him shift the truck into ‘park’.

“Away from…what, exactly?” The man asked.

Now, Daniel knew he shouldn’t trust the strange man so easily. But something about him felt safe; like he was actually there to help. It brought ease to his mind knowing that the man didn’t know who he was—or didn’t seem to know, anyways. He needed a break from recognition.

“Life, I guess,” Daniel answered sheepishly. “I don’t know where I am—literally, that is. I just got the rental car and drove, but I drove a bit too far.”

“Hmph,” the old man grunted, as if to judge him for his reckless decision. Daniel knew it should irritate him, but instead it warmed his heart. It felt like home a bit, having his dad harness a similar reaction whenever he would say or do something stupid (which, quite frankly, happened often while growing up). “I’ve got a farm just a few miles down the road. Why don’t you follow me there? I’ll fix you up some lunch—you can stay as long as you need.”

.

Sadie wasn’t sure what she was expecting when her grandfather returned to the farm, but it certainly wasn’t a second vehicle—or the stranger who drove the vehicle. It wasn’t beyond her grandpa to try and sell the farm, as he had done on several occasions now; each one was intervened successfully by her. The family farm, as much of a headache as it was to maintain, held too much sentimental value to her to watch him just try to pawn it off to a rich bastard who didn’t know the first thing about caring for a farm.

“My favorite girl!” Her grandfather beamed as he and the stranger made their way towards the barn, where she was currently feeding a bottle to a baby calf. She smiled at first, not seeing the man behind him.

“Hey,” she responded softly before turning her attention towards the animal again. The calf was sick earlier in the week, so having it finish off a bottle of formula was a win in her book. “She’s better. Not one hundred percent, but she’s eating.” Her grandpa bent over, planting a soft kiss on the top of her head.

“We have a guest,” he announced. She glanced over her shoulder again, now noticing the tall stranger behind him. His dark curls seemed a bit disheveled. He had a five o’clock shadow growing in along his jawline. A few tattoos made themselves known on his arms and legs as he shifted his weight behind him. She frowned, turning her gaze back to her grandpa.

“What’s going on?” She questioned. As the calf finished her bottle, she stood from the small stool she sat on. “You’re not trying to sell again, are you—“

“Not at all,” he quickly interrupted. “Just being a Good Samaritan. The young gentleman is simply passing through.”

Her and the stranger shared a moment, each staring back at each other. It felt like they were trying to figure the other one out—like studying a book, or unraveling a mystery of sorts. Though, when their gazes met, his shoulders seemed to sink—like a weight was lifted off of him. His eyes cleared from a cloudiness that she didn’t even realize was in them to begin with. She knew him from somewhere, but she couldn’t place where from. His jaw clenched the longer her gaze lingered. Whoever he was, she had a bad feeling about this. He needed to leave. Change was hard on Sadie, but it was even harder on the farm.

“For how long?” She finally interrogated. She took a step towards him, becoming defensive. “What’s your name?”

“Sadie…”

“Um, it’s Daniel,” the stranger quickly interrupted her grandpa as he stepped forward, offering her his hand. “But most people call me Danny.” His Australian accent was a surprise. Not many Australians traversed the South Dakota plains, but then again, hardly anybody did in general.

“How long will you be here?” Sadie asked again, refusing his handshake. His arm lowered once more as he cleared his throat. Her grandpa stepped forward, placing himself in between them.

“He will stay as long as he needs,” he told her sternly. “This is still my farm at the end of the day, Sadie.”

She could laugh, but that wouldn’t get her anywhere. Sure, his name was on the paperwork; but he didn’t do jack shit to help her half the time. She didn’t bother trying to ask him, either. It wouldn’t be fair. He was getting too old to do most of the work around here, but still—she was tired. Her gaze trickled back to Daniel.

“Do you know how to milk a cow?” She asked him, with a passive aggressive lilt to her tone. Despite her abrasive demeanor, Daniel smiled.

“I know a thing or two,” he responded softly, which almost perfectly evened out her negativity. “I’ll do whatever. Just ask, and I’m there.”

.

It had been about a week since Daniel arrived at their little farm, and he was obsessed with her from the moment they met. At first, he followed her around like a pathetic puppy—eagerly learning all the ins and outs of their daily chores. She had scolded him on a few occasions for not listening, but she didn’t know it was because of her. He was so distracted by her all the time, but by watching her, he quickly learned all of her little quirks: the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed, how she would sway her hips to an inaudible song that only played in her head, how wine typically made her emotional, how her heart had a soft spot for the horses…there was so much to her that made his own heart stutter. Unfortunately for Daniel, she still didn’t seem too fond of him in return. He really couldn’t blame her, either; she had a lot of responsibilities on her shoulders, and to have an additional mouth to feed thrown into the mix certainly didn’t make life easier. That was why Daniel came up with the perfect plan. Hypothetically, the plan was easy. Executing it? Not so much. It’s been a while since he tried to pursue anybody romantically, so he felt quite a bit of pressure to make sure this was perfect. She seemed to hate him enough as it was, and he didn’t want to add gasoline to that fire.

The morning of his plan execution started off relatively normal. Usually, Sadie would be awake at the crack of dawn to make eggs, bacon, and pancakes for everyone. But today, Daniel was awake sooner. Just as he was finishing the bacon, he heard her shuffle into the kitchen.

“What are you doing?”

He looked over his shoulder at her. She still wore her pajamas, which was a sight he had yet to be graced by. Her grey sweatpants and white camisole could’ve made his heart explode. Her brown hair was tied back in a bun, that was now messy due to her falling asleep in it.

“Breakfast,” he held up the hot skillet to show her, before setting it in the sink to allow the grease to harden. “Are you hungry yet?” She was quiet, which he couldn’t tell if she was grateful or angry at him.

“What time did you wake up?” She questioned. Her voice was still groggy. She was so cute. He pushed his thought aside as he glanced at the clock. 5:45am.

“Um, four, I think?” He looked back to her. “I wanted to make breakfast for you all—to thank you.” She hugged her arms around herself, as if she had suddenly become aware that she was still in her pajamas. She shifted her weight to her right leg, leaning against the old, wooden doorframe. Daniel’s mind began to race—he could hardly keep his thoughts straight right now. This was the longest they seemed to have spoken since he arrived, and it was civil. He felt like a boy on Christmas.

“That is…” she trailed off, completely caught off guard by his gesture. So far, his plan was off to an excellent start. “Thank you. That’s really nice.” Daniel reached for a paper towel to dry his hands. He turned to face her, then leaned against the counter.

“It’s really the least I can do,” he commented slowly, making sure she understood that he meant it. “You have all done so much for me. If your grandpa hadn’t driven by me that day…I’m just not sure I’d be in as good of a place. You know?”

“Who are you, exactly?” She countered, leaving no beat or moment of hesitation. Daniel inhaled deeply, wondering if he really wanted to tell her or not. He was enjoying not being known—not being recognized. It had to be hard for her, though, to justify a total stranger staying there.

“That’s complicated,” Daniel dropped his head as he laughed, but struggled to find the words. There was a deep pit of guilt in his stomach. He knew he needed to tell her, but he didn’t want to. “Um, well, my name is Daniel—but you know that already…” That prompted a smile from her. A genuine one, too—not a phony sympathetic or sarcastic one that she typically offered him. He caught his breath.

“I mean, like, where did you come from?” She rephrased. She walked over, then leaned against the counter next to him. Her arm lightly brushed against his, which could’ve killed him on the spot. He was grateful that her attention went to the wall in front of them, rather than his face, as his eyes began trailing down her body. She had faint freckles that dotted from her cheeks to her collarbones, with a few outcasts on her arms and hands. If she never got this close to him, he probably would’ve never noticed them. “Who are your parents? What do you do for work? Stuff like that.”

“Ah,” he laughed again, but this time it was strained. Her attention averted back to him. He folded his arms across his chest, then sighed. “I’m from Perth, Australia. But I used to travel the world quite a bit for work. I’m not stranger to the states, but I’m a stranger to South Dakota.”

“Getting paid to travel the world?” Sadie hummed dreamily. Her voice was softer than he had ever heard it before. It typically held an accusatory, aggressive tone to it, but now? She sounded like an angel—more than she already did. “What kind of job grants you that privilege?”

“One I no longer have,” Daniel nudged her slightly, trying to play it cool. But in reality, there was a swarm of butterflies filtering through his arms, his legs, his chest…he knew if she asked, he’d do anything for her. It felt silly, but when he first saw her a week ago, all the noise from his reality seemed to vanish. There was nothing, now, except the quiet hum of the wind and the bright song of the birds that chirped around the property.

.

When the chores for the day were done faster than normal, Sadie knew Daniel was up to something. Between waking up before her to cook and beating her to her own work, she could sense he planned this…whatever this was. Their dynamic around the farm was like a jigsaw puzzle to her, except none of the pieces went together. It was like a plethora of memories and emotions that clashed—that didn’t make sense together—but still made a beautiful picture at the end of the day. When late afternoon rolled around, she found him in the vegetable garden with the farm dog, Lucky, picking a few tomatoes. He was talking to Lucky in a baby voice, before laughing at the retriever’s reaction. He was always so happy—so nice. She didn’t think there was ever a moment he wasn’t smiling. She paid attention to him even in moments when he didn’t think anyone was watching. She’s picked up on a few of his traits, or the things he does when he thinks he’s alone. Sometimes he’ll start dancing when doing a job he particularly enjoys—shucking the corn, riding the tractor, feeding the cats. Other times, he’ll talk to himself when working through a rather difficult job such as repairing the riding lawn mower or grooming the horses. But through all the horrible jobs that came with the farm, she’s never seen him get upset. Each thing she asked of him, he happily completed.

As she continued to observe him, he looked up at her from the tomato plant. His grin grew wider…if that was even possible. He hurriedly dropped the last few vegetables into the small basket he had, then dusted the dirt off of his shorts.

“Hey!” He exclaimed, quickly jogging over to her. Lucky trailed behind, with his tongue lolling out of his mouth happily. Clearly the dog loved him, judging by the look of utter admiration in his eyes as he stared up at the Australian. “Since we are done early, I was wondering if you wanted to do something tonight?”

“Like what?” Sadie questioned, furrowing her eyebrows. Definitely up to something, she reminded herself. “I don’t get off this farm very often…”

“I know,” he smiled. “I was thinking we could go dancing?”

Dancing. Sadie had mixed feelings about the idea. More so, she had mixed feelings about dancing with him specifically. She couldn’t quite tell what Daniel’s intentions were behind this, but judging by the hopeful glisten in his eyes, she thought that maybe—just maybe—this could be a date. She hadn’t been on a date since high school, and she wasn’t completely sold on having the first one be with him. Sure, breakfast was a nice gesture, along with the chores…but there was still so much about him that she didn’t know. She didn’t know his last name, for crying out loud. She’d be lying, though, if she said the mystery didn’t excite her even a little bit.

“Dancing?” She repeated, primarily for confirmation from him. He reciprocated with a small nod. She licked her lips, thinking of how to respond. If this was how he wanted to play, then maybe she could pry some more information out of him. “Tell me more about yourself, first—then I’ll go out with you. How do I know you’re not going to kill me?” Daniel laughed, which—even though she’d never admit it aloud—was a sound she was beginning to grow fond of. His laugh was intoxicating. It was enough to make her smile, even if she didn’t think the cause of his laughter was funny.

“I’ve never killed anyone before,” he teased in response. “I really don’t think you’d be my first choice, though. I’ve got a list to work through, first. Then maybe I’d consider you.” Sadie rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t fight off the smile that was slowly being painted across her lips.

“What’s your last name? Can I have that much at least?”

“Ricciardo,” he answered, without missing a beat. “Daniel Ricciardo.”

“Okay,” she took a few steps closer to him. As she did so, she could see a faint tint of red wash over his cheeks. “Wasn’t so hard, right? Now, what time are we going dancing?”

.

There was only one bar in her small, South Dakotan town. She couldn’t remember if it had a name, frankly, because the sign had disappeared years ago as a result of a senior prank. It wasn’t a fancy joint by any means, but on a Saturday evening like this, it still managed to feel crowded. She sat next to Daniel at the bar, watching him intently as he finished off his beer. A disgusted expression seemed to wash over his face, prompting a laugh from her in response.

“You got something against Bud Light?” She teased before pressing the glass to her lips. The Aussie gagged exaggeratedly, before smiling.

“It’s cheap beer,” he explained. “It just reminds me of high school. Though, I’ve become a bit spoiled with my expensive palette.” Sadie’s eyes widened at his cockiness. Was he really insinuating he was rich? She was dying to know what he did for work, but that was the only question of hers that he was continuously dodging. She played with the idea that he was a drug dealer, but he didn’t seem like the type. Then again, her only reference to go against that theory were the mafia dealers in her romance books that she read every night.

“Expensive how?” She finally managed to ask. “Like, what, Monaco expensive? Dubai expensive?” Daniel shook his head in amusement, before standing from the bar. Once again avoiding the question, he sauntered over to the source of the music—the bar’s beaten up jukebox. She took a swig of her beer again, observing him as he flipped through the log of song choices on the screen. He had changed before they left the house into a black t-shirt that seemed to hug his body in all the right places. The dark wash jeans he wore with it just tied it all together. Sadie quickly finished off her beer, trying to evict the admiration from her mind. He was still a stranger with unknown intentions. She couldn’t fall for his act that quickly—it would be rather pathetic if she did.

She didn’t know how Daniel knew what her favorite song was but when the jukebox clicked to the next song, she immediately knew what was playing. Daniel had a mischievous look on his face as he turned around, further confirming her theory that today was planned. She watched as he did a horrible (absolutely horrible) shimmy back over to her, before grabbing ahold of her right hand with his and pulling her to her feet. He led her out to the dance floor, where his free arm wrapped around her back, pulling her closer to him. As he began swaying to the music, Sadie realized she was as stiff as a board.

“Dancing is a two way street, dear,” he hummed.

“Keep Me in Mind?” She asked him. “How did you know I liked this song?”

“Lucky guess?” He winked at her, but he knew that she knew he was lying. He wasn’t a very good liar, she had come to find out. Sadie took a deep breath, before allowing herself to relax into his touch and dance along to the music. Daniel was attempting to sing along, but he didn’t know the words—so it all spilled out as some kind of unrecognizable gibberish.

“You barely even have one drink in your system, and you’re already drunk,” she laughed as he held his arm out to spin her. She did so, but as he pulled her back into his embrace, her chest hit his. She caught her breath, realizing how close they now were. He held her closer, with his grip tightening on her waist. They stayed like that for a moment, both of them unsure of what to do or say next. Despite feeling incredibly overwhelmed by him, Sadie knew deep down that it was no longer a negative feeling. Whatever had transpired over the last week between them slowly dissolved. It felt like time slowed around them—like they were the only two in the bar. Just as Daniel opened his mouth to speak, she stepped away.

“I don’t feel good,” Sadie lied, though her voice wavered a bit, ultimately giving her away. “I just…I think I need some air.” Before she could listen to his response, she was quick to turn on her heel and exit the bar.

.

She wouldn’t speak to him for a few days after that, and it drove Daniel mad. The plan was going perfectly, but she shut it down. What made him feel even more stupid, was that he thought just for a moment that she felt the same. He could see it in her eyes—that hopeful glimmer that often gave himself away, was reflected in her gaze as well. He couldn’t stop replaying it in his mind, the way her body felt against his. He watched her as she made her way from the barn to the garage, carrying two large buckets of milk from the cows. Her expression was strained; she seemed to be in a daze since they left the bar. He couldn’t figure out what was holding her back, and just as he tried to sort through all the possible reasons, his phone rang.

He didn’t reach for it at first. He hadn’t had any service for the past week and a half, so he almost forgot the device even existed. When it rang again, he dropped the hose he was holding immediately to grab it from his pocket. Notification after notification began pooling through, as the last several days finally caught up to him. Every article about him, every text message from former teammates, every call from his family members—it all rapidly hit him at once. He felt the familiar tightness in his chest that he felt the day Sadie’s grandpa invited him over. He slowly lowered himself to his knees as he read through each message.

Max: Hope you’re well, mate. No one has heard from you for a while. We’re all worried

Lando: Heard you left the country? Hope you were smart enough to bring your phone. Your mom’s been having a fit since you left the airport.

Seb: Hosting a retirement party for you next week. What’s your schedule look like?

“You okay?”

The noise quickly faded as Daniel looked up from his phone to find Sadie standing over him. The expression she wore was laced with layers of concern as she watched him reading his screen.

“Shit,” he sighed, locking the device again. “I, uh, think I need to be honest with you.” She hesitated before sitting beside him on the ground. She hugged her knees to her chest, then offered him another genuine smile.

“I’m all ears.”

So, he told her everything. He told her about work, about being dropped by RB, about running away…and she listened, just like she said she would. It was weird, having someone there to just hear his thoughts. Not to interject, not to tell him what to do or to say…just to absorb his words as they spewed out of his mouth. He had this same feeling when he first met her—that despite the storm inside of him that welled with doubt and fear of the future, she managed to ground him. The clouds cleared, and the sky was blue with her. In his world of winter, she was summer.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say something sooner,” he finished, as he finally grew the courage to meet her gaze again. “I should have told you but…it was nice to be nobody for a while.” She pressed her lips into a thin line as she thought for a moment. His phone buzzed again, but before he could look, she placed her hand over his.

“I’m not angry,” she stated. “I’m sorry you’ve felt like you had to hold that in to keep your peace, but…we’re all nobodys here. That is something you can count on. It’s, like, the one perk to living off the grid.” Daniel laughed at her last comment. There was truth to her words. It was really nice to be nobody. But as the notifications kept rolling in, he knew he needed to answer some of them—to go back to being a somebody.

“I should probably make a few calls,” he looked at her. As the sun was beginning to set, the glow of its light seemed to shine perfectly on her face. As if instinctively, he reached out to her, pushing her hair behind her ear. At first, she pulled away slightly. Then, before he could drop his hand, she leaned in to his touch. The next words to leave his mouth seemed to spill before he could think, “I love you.”

.

The house felt empty when Daniel eventually left. There was a somberness that filled the air that nobody dared to address, because addressing it made it real. Sadie didn’t want it to be real. Not yet, not ever. She should’ve said she loved him back before he left, but she was scared. In all truthfulness, he scared her. Not in a bad way, but in a way that felt like if she were to allow herself to fall, the repercussions afterwards would damage her completely. What if it didn’t work out? What would happen to the farm if she left with him? Daniel had reassured her profusely that she didn’t have to say the three words back, but he simply wanted her to know where he stood before he left.

Six agonizing weeks later, and Sadie hated herself for not saying it back.

The weather was beginning to cool in South Dakota, as she made final winter preparations around the farm. She was adjusting the heat lamp in the chicken coop, when she heard a soft knock on the wall outside.

“Sadie?” Her grandpa called. “Can we talk?”

“I guess,” she mumbled as she turned the lamp on, then crawled out of the coop. Her grandpa wrapped an arm around her, holding her close.

“Distracting yourself with chores won’t make your feelings disappear,” he told her gently. “You know, he’s tried calling.”

She did know, but it was a horribly ironic feeling that stirred inside of her. He called, but she couldn’t talk to him regardless of how much she ached to hear his voice again. His goodbye was still so fresh on her mind that she couldn’t face the reality just yet. It was part of the reason she stayed outside all of the time—to avoid being available when he calls.

“He just left so soon,” she finally managed to say, though her voice was strained. Her grandpa placed a soft kiss against her temple as he continued rubbing her arm lovingly.

“Come inside,” he insisted, though she didn’t have the chance to argue as he began walking with his arm still around her—ultimately forcing her to walk with him. She let him, though. She was too tired to keep her composure anymore. As they grew closer to the house, she heard Lucky barking at the front door. Sadie stopped in her tracks, frowning.

“Lucky!” She called to the dog, but he ignored her. He started to whine over whatever was happening on the other side of the door. She whistled at him, when the door opened. Lucky darted inside, and as Sadie got ready to chase after him, she finally saw the culprit of his obsession: Daniel looked over to her cheekily, with his familiar smile plastered across his face. His hair was a bit longer, but the scruff still lined his jaw. A soft gasp escaped from her. He stepped outside.

“You, uh, wouldn’t return my calls,” he said casually as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of the winter coat he wore. “I really had some important things to say, and I just didn’t feel like waiting anymore—“

Before he had the chance to finish, Sadie ran over to him. She could feel the tears running down her cheeks, but she didn’t care. She acted on her feelings, and shut him up with a desperate, emotional kiss. Daniel wasted no time engulfing her in a hug, spinning her around happily. He kissed her back reverently, as if she were a sacred prayer to be memorized and answered. Her hands were tangled in his hair. She could taste the wine that her grandmother was more than likely giving him inside. Part of her wondered how long he had been here, but she didn’t care, because he was here now. She broke the kiss momentarily, bracing herself to finally say to him what she has wanted to say since he left.

“I love you,” she whispered. He brought a hand up, gently brushing the tears away from her eyes. “I’m sorry I took so long to—“

“You don’t have to be sorry,” Daniel interjected before quickly stealing another kiss from her. “I love you, too.” Sadie buried her face into his chest. Despite the icy breeze that pricked at her face and at her hands, she practically melted in his arms. There was an unspoken agreement between them in that moment. That despite what the future held for either of them, the other was going to be in it.

.

* None of my writing is available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are appreciated.

©️ grogwrites, 2024

[marlynnofmany]

Monkey Chase

I stepped off the loading ramp and got a good view of the reason why we’d landed in the wrong part of the spaceport. A giant cargo hauler lay on its side, broken and bent — had a ship crashed into it, or had the engine exploded? I couldn’t tell from here — and large slabs of spaceship insulation gel sprawled everywhere. The hauler’s cargo, clearly. As I watched, three people with a hovercart tried to shove one aside to no effect, and another slab as big as a cross-section from my old apartment on Earth slowly peeled off from inside the remains of the hauler. It hit the ground with the squishiest thud I’d ever heard - the thing was the color of smoke, but dense enough to make the ground vibrate from here.

I whistled, then regretted it when the tentacle alien on the ramp beside me scrunched up at the sound. “Sorry,” I told Mur.

“Ow,” he said, uncurling his blue-black tentacles. “Was that a human swear? It’s sharp.”

“More of a ‘wow-look-at-that’ kind of noise,” I said. “But swearing would sure be appropriate. What a mess.”

“You said it. Glad it’s not our problem.”

Captain Sunlight came down the ramp to join us, regal as ever in the bright yellow scales that had given her the name. “Our client isn’t answering,” she said. “I’ve put in a request at the local medcenter to see if they’ve been injured in this crisis, but haven’t heard back yet. Anyone interested is welcome to join me in walking over to where their ship was meant to be parked.”

Three other crewmates followed her out of the ship: Blip and Blop in their flowiest silks that both matched their fin colors and also showed off their biceps, and Zhee with his purple exoskeleton as shiny as always. They all made quiet noises of dismay at the state of the spaceport.

(Well, Blip and Blop seemed dismayed. Zhee was looking down his nonexistent nose at whoever had been careless enough to cause such a mess.)

Mur waved a tentacle. “Lead the way,” he said to the captain. “Here’s hoping the ship isn’t buried under all that.”

“Yeah, it looks heavy,” I said as we moved out. “I wouldn’t be surprised if a little ship could be crushed under that, especially if it also took damage from whatever kaboom happened in the first place.”

As we got closer, I made several observations in a range of importance. A medical shuttle was zipping off toward the city center while another appeared to be waiting around just in case; the medics were standing there chatting instead of tending to anyone. The gel slabs couldn’t be pushed, though they could be lifted with a big enough gravity platform. There was only one of those here. Cleanup was going to take a while. The slabs covered a large area of ground as well as a couple ship-sized lumps, turning the spaceport into a sea of smoky gray translucent rubber.

A small creature bounced around on it. People were shouting about that.

“What’s going on over there?” I asked.

Captain Sunlight sighed deeply and sped up. “I really hope that’s not our cargo.”

“Our cargo’s an animal?”

“Yes, among other things. I thought I told you, but I guess not; it was a last-minute addition to our load. Someone’s exotic pet.” She looked up at me with concern on her lizardy face. “How are your animal-catching skills?”

“Depends on the animal,” I said, squinting at the fast-moving thing. I was the critter expert on the ship, but I didn’t want to promise anything. “What species is it?”

“I’ll bring up the description in a moment,” Captain Sunlight said. “I think I see our client over there.”

She was right. The slender Frillian with a leash and an exasperated expression did turn out to be the person we’d come to meet, and the various spaceport officials on the scene had no any easy answers about how to catch his pet.

“Normally he comes running for food!” the client exclaimed. “But he’s got plenty to pick from here!” He pointed accusingly at the spill of fruit from a truck smashed open by a slab of gel.

“Oh, like that’s my fault?” said a Heatseeker who was busy gathering fruit. “Half my stock is ruined! Go catch your little menace and stop complaining.”

This led to a rant about how impossible the menace in question was to catch when he didn’t want to be — giving him a bath had to be done by trickery — and he was never going to come down from this playground full of food, and oh the man should have just paid for a transit that allowed him to bring pets.

Zhee muttered agreement at that last, but I don’t think the guy heard him. Spaceport officials offered calming words and a reminder that nets had been sent for.

Captain Sunlight asked one of them, “Is there an animal-handling service anywhere nearby?”

“Nowhere close,” was the answer.

She looked back up at me. “Any bright ideas? Here, I’ll show you the description.”

While she unfolded a screen and brought up the information from this particular courier gig, I watched the jumpy creature carefully. He was close enough for a good look now, since he’d come back to snatch another alien citrus off the ground, making the owner yell after him.

My first thought was “monkey,” followed by “frog.” The animal was long-limbed and green, though with velvety fur instead of an amphibian’s shine, and had a tail that could hold fruit just as well as his hands could. Pointy nose, round ears, and the biggest eyes of anyone here except for Zhee. He could probably see a person sneaking up from behind. He was fast. And he was clearly having a great time jumping from one bouncy surface to another, making chattering noises and spitting citrus peel everywhere.

“It’s called a treeleaper,” Captain Sunlight told me. “Warmblooded, diurnal, omnivorous, and ‘a bit of a troublemaker.’”

Mur snorted. “Sounds like your species,” he told me.

“Just with a tail,” Zhee added.

“I wanted a tail as a kid,” I said absently, thinking hard. I’d just caught sight of a shipful of humans disembarking nearby, on the other side of the biggest pile of gel. They looked like they were in pretty good shape. One was already walking on the gel and laughing about the bounce.

I had an idea. “Excuse me, Captain. I think I see reinforcements,” I said, then ran off toward my unsuspecting kinfolk. When I got close, I took great pleasure in yelling, “Hey humans! Who wants to help me chase a monkey across a trampoline??”

They were all smiles and questions, then when I led the way to where they could see the monkey-frog jumping around with stolen fruit, they volunteered immediately.

“I’ll get the small cargo net!”

“Do you think the big gravity wands will slow it down?”

“Bet you a cleaning shift that I can grab it in a towel.”

“You’re on!”

I told Captain Sunlight that I had successfully recruited some animal-catchers, and she didn’t bat an eye, just suggesting that our crew gather similar tools from our own ship. Zhee and the twins rushed off while Mur stayed to yell suggestions.

The other humans were already venturing into the bounce zone. I hurried to follow, grabbing a fist-sized lime thing from the ground as I did. We made a wide circle before closing in.

The treeleaper saw us coming, of course. Threw a half-eaten fruit at one person and made a rude noise at another, then sprang up to ricochet between surfaces like an unholy pinball.

Thus began a merry chase.

It brought back memories of bouncy houses and birthday parties at the trampoline gym. The gel was tough enough to take an impact without doing more than denting briefly and launching a person hooting into the air, to rebound off another surface and hopefully not smack into anyone else in midair. There were a couple close calls. But that just made everything funnier somehow.

I jumped off one gel wall with and hit another with my shoulder, making the monkey-frog turn a 180 back towards a pair of guys with gravity wands. He tried to spring away to the side, but I threw my lime to bounce off a surface nearby, spooking him enough to change direction yet again. Somebody slid down a gel slab like a rubbery playground slide, yelping as that turned into a wild tumble. The animal didn’t know what to make of all the flailing and laughter. His hesitation was enough for the gravity wands to lift him partway off the gel, then when he stuck a leg out far enough to jump free, he was immediately bagged by a grinning lady with a cargo net.

Everybody cheered.

The treeleaper growled and tried to scramble free, but no luck. Somebody else caught up and helped tie the net off with a scarf. Everyone settled down to minimal bouncing, and many hands worked together to carry the bundle of ropes and disgruntled animal back to solid ground.

“You got him! Is he okay? He didn’t sprain anything in that net, did he? I hope he didn’t eat too much fruit. He’ll do that if given the chance, you know.” The owner was grateful and worried and relieved and talkative.

Eggskin had arrived from our ship with a medical scanner, and thankfully they could put everyone’s mind at ease about the state of our animal cargo. The treeleaper was fine. It had a stomach full of fruit and a bloodstream full of adrenaline, but all it needed was a nice nap in its carrying cage.

I considered asking why it hadn’t been in the carrier before, when the rented shuttle got its windows smashed, but I didn’t.

A small hand patted my back, as far up as it could reach. “Earning your keep once again,” said Captain Sunlight.

I laughed. “That was my pleasure.”

Another human lingering nearby asked, “Is there anything else that needs catching? That was great.”

“Yeah, you should sell tickets to this!” agreed another.

A Frillian in a port uniform said, “No, but thank you.” She paused, then added, “Hm. I wonder if that’s worth suggesting to the owner of all this insulation. It’s useless for its intended purpose now that it’s breached the sanitation shielding.”

I smiled. “It still makes an excellent trampoline even with footprints all over it. Lay those out in an empty field and charge people entrance, and they could make back a decent amount of money. You get plenty humans through this port, right?”

The woman who’d caught the treeleaper said, “We’re here early for a family reunion before the big festival, then there are three or four sporting events in a row. Let us know if that does happen, because we can get you a lot of humans interested in jumping on this stuff.”

I had to leave with the animal cargo back to our courier ship, so I didn’t hear how the rest of the conversation went, but I saw the official bring the representative of the hauling group over to meet the humans. He looked very interested in what the spokesperson had to say.

I grinned at the scene as I walked away: the intense conversation in front of the vast playground of bouncy surfaces. I wondered if we’d get a chance to come back for a visit when they got it set up properly.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!

[thefixations-ofmine]

liquid courage and a support system

Bucktommy | 2.8k | Rated mature (no smut) Entry for the @bucktommywinterfest, round 5 Dec. 29 - Jan. 4 prompt: Midnight kiss a/n: this is an idea I got from this exchange here. Again, I suck at titles so please bear with me. There will be a follow-up smut chapter to this, that I will post for a Bingo challenge. And then next week's prompt for the Winter fest will be the following conversation in the morning. Oh and apparently Sal's wife's name is Gina (saw someone say that in the tags and I liked it).

Main Masterlist | Winter fest | AO3

“Buck, hey! What’s-”

“Eddie!” Buck shouts his name through the phone as soon as he hears his voice. He takes a giggly breath before proceeding; “I’m at a bar downtown with Lucy. Remember Lucy? When you-you quit working with us? Anyway, she told me to go out and have some fun!”

“That’s nice, Buck. So, are you having fun?” There’s a silence after Eddie’s question while Lucy tries to say something from a few feet away, and Buck remembers he’s on a phone call he initiated;

“Hey Eddie, Eddie,” he says, suddenly serious. “I need your help with something.”

“I’m sure that’s why you called.”

Buck bites the insides of his cheeks, second-guessing for a moment until a member of the 133 chimes in and convinces him to go through with the plan. They’d all been sitting around some nachos for an hour, the members of the 127 whining about Tommy’s attitude since the break-up and the 133 chipping in that there had to be an explanation to all of it. In the end, they took Buck’s side of the story, even Lucy, and he knew he hadn’t been worried for no reason.

“I need to go see Tommy before midnight.”

It’s a quick conversation after that. Eddie makes sure Buck knows what he’s doing because if Tommy hadn’t been vocal about the situation to anyone, he might not react so well to being pressured, mostly not tonight of all nights. Despite his friendly advice, Buck insists and convinces Eddie to pick him up and drive him there.

Which he does, thirty minutes and another round of Tequila later.

When they drive onto Tommy’s street, Buck turns the radio off to unscramble the speech in his brain that he intends on giving to maybe, very hopefully, get Tommy to have a conversation with him. At the very least, they both need more context and if Tommy had an actual reason to stay away, Buck would comply. But Lucy was honest when she said she saw a change in Tommy’s demeanor and it wasn’t for the best.

Buck takes deep breaths that contrast the chill December air. His window is starting to fog and Eddie notices.

“There’s still time to turn around, man.” Eddie offers, and Buck shakes his head. He’s gotta do this. For the both of them.

“I’m okay, yeah. I’m okay.” Buck rubs his hands onto his jeans - the tight blue ones he remembers were Tommy’s favourites. The same jeans he wore on the night- Buck shakes his head.

Yeah, he really needs to talk to Tommy.

The house looks a little different, and in his current state, Buck can’t really tell why. The grass is a little longer than usual, but that’s not it. Tommy was never a fancy landscaping guy so the hedge and small bushes are the same. New roof? Nope. Then Buck’s eyes fall onto the bright red, 2019 Charger parked in the driveway and his brows bend with curiosity. Did Tommy have that bad of a crisis that he made an impulsive (and expensive) decision?

Ha! Buck silently laughs to himself now. Ironic.

Eddie catches the change in energy and tries to comfort his friend; “I remember he told me he was thinking of getting a more recent sports car because working on classics was becoming expensive.”

“But he loved his truck. I loved his truck…” Buck whispers, reminiscing over their short trips and the laughs they shared eating take-out and watching planes take off at Burbank. It would make sense though, that Tommy would get rid of such a big piece of them.

Once the truck is parked by the eye-sore, Buck nods and thanks Eddie for driving him over, saying that he’d catch an Uber back to his place if Eddie got called while on his stand-by shift. He jumps out of the truck and wills himself to walk to the door, takes a quick look at his phone.

It’s eleven forty-five.

There are a few seconds too many after his first knock and Buck goes for another, impatient. The door swings open instantly this time. The comforting smell of the house drafts out, bringing up a wave of emotions. His eyes open and with that Buck loses the smile he had put on.

“Can I help you?” There’s a tall, broad man on the other side of the threshold, but it’s not Tommy. The features are similar though; blue eyes, dark hair, muscles all over and a nose that would crunch up on his cheek during a kiss like Tommy’s did. Buck opens his mouth to speak but;

“Who is it, Sal?” Tommy shouts from inside. Sal. What a stupid name.

Sal turns around to tell; “Some random mook”. Then his piercing gaze falls back onto Buck; “You’re bumming out our party. The fuck you want?”

“Um, well-” There are so many scenarios running through Buck’s mind that he forgets everything he needed to say. Tommy’s already got a date? Sure, it’s been over a month and he had his own opportunities, but Buck was convinced Tommy would be alone moping, or at least working an extra shift tonight (Tommy is not a big holiday guy, Buck had found out when he suggested they took the same days off to celebrate). But he’s already found another man to spend his spare time with and the man is gorgeous and not so different from his own physique that Buck can pass it off as an experiment.

He thinks maybe that Sal guy had been there all along. That Buck was in fact the experiment and he’d fallen into the trap. Let the man feed on his naiveness and use his inexperience as some weird superiority kink.

Well, fuck, he thinks. If he’s going down might as well put all the cards on the table and play the game.

“I-I need to talk to Tommy. We have a conversation to have.” Buck straightens up, using the little ounce of alcohol that didn’t coward out of his body to stand his ground. “He should be with me tonight.”

The man laughs as he realizes who he’s talking to, and it boils Buck’s blood.

“You? You’re the reason I had to pick Tommy off the ground?” Sal slaps his knee and looks over inside the house again but doesn’t speak. While he does so, Buck scans him over, looking for a weak point. He’s not above fighting this with his fists - remember the alcohol? - but the man could slam dunk him one-handed.

“Oh, that’s rich,” Sal adds with a deep hum. He looks Buck up and down. Bites his bottom lip. “I guess I can see it. Tall boy with the curls and puppy eyes. I would have been all up in there as well. Worth the heartache.”

“The fuck you mean?” Buck’s hands are forming into fists in his hoodie’s pockets and he’s turning the same colour as the hideous car parked behind him. Which he now understands is this prick’s belonging.

“Boy, listen. Tommy had a good run with you, but I’m here with him now. He doesn’t need to take your hand and walk you everywhere like a lost child anymore.” Sal walks back and starts closing the door but Buck’s hand is quick to stop it.

“I’m sure he didn’t mind that. You should have seen his face the first time I called him daddy. Fucked me for three days straight, something you probably can’t keep up with,” Buck spits, the taste of the statement burning like bile on his tongue. He can see surprise spread across Sal’s face, before he retorts.

“I’m the top, baby. Tommy lets me do what I want with him. And his whimpers are delicious.” Buck knows. Buck’s been on the giving end of those whimpers, and if Tommy was honest with him, he was the first one to bring him there, and-

“Maybe I can show you how to make him cry your name too.” Buck’s inside the house now, backing Sal into the dresser as they go about fighting this like bulls. He goes on to say more arrogant shit that he hopes will fall into the right ears and grant him points. Even if deep down he knows this is childish and stupid and wasting him some precious time.

“That didn’t make him want to move in with you, did it?” Sal sends the final straw as he rubs his chin evilly.

Buck’s eyes land on Sal’s hand and his stomach drops. He looks at the ring on his finger and his mouth falls open, speechless. There’s a stinging feeling of defeat cutting through his entire being, like he came all the way here for nothing. Like the last months were for nothing.

Before Buck can either fall to his knees in sobs or turn around without a word, a feminine frame comes into view and the woman circles an arm around Sal, a big diamond decorating the hand that’s running up his chest. She looks up at him, the stern expression across her face making him check his posture, and suddenly Buck’s even more confused than he was.

“Tommy, come talk to the poor boy,” she says and pulls Sal back to the living room by the hand.

Buck looks over to his right and he feels like passing out.

*

“He should be with me tonight.”

Tommy freezes in place, takes a step back to hide behind the dividing column between the living room and kitchen as if this wasn’t his goddamn house. He takes a deep breath, looks over at Gina on the couch and makes a face: that’s him, he mouths. She giggles at his frightened composure. He’s too drunk for this. 

Hearing Ev-, Buck’s voice triggers emotions he thought he had drowned deep enough with holiday cheer; shame. Regret. Love. And now all he wants is to run out, pull him into his arms tight enough until they fuse together and he can never lose him again. But the conversation has taken a turn and Tommy… Well, Tommy enjoys what he’s hearing. His body goes slack when he hears Buck fight for him. Everything he’s saying is true and he wants to prove it again. Fuck, he misses him.

He’d have a conversation with Sal later about the things he’s saying to rile him up. Slap the back of his head for good measure because Buck could have run off and Tommy’s not sure he’d have the courage to go after him and pick up that mess on top of the one he created, but for now, he chuckles and lets them ‘fight’ over him for the sake of the show. When Sal pulls out his last line though, Tommy’s expression drops and Gina darts past him before he can will himself to take a step. She defuses the bomb.

“Tommy, come talk to the poor boy.” He watches as they walk back into the living area and he meets Buck’s eyes.

He has very little time to make a decision and he probably looks like a deer in headlights. He wants to be cool and composed. Make Buck believe he’s got his life together and that leaving wasn’t the dumbest thing he did. But his baby is standing there in his house and he hates how uneasy he seems. Tommy closes his eyes and breathes in, looks at the stove on his left.

It’s eleven fifty-seven.

“Come in,” he says, barely loud enough to hear himself say it. He has to wave Buck in, and his heart skips a beat when he agrees and closes the door. Tommy turns to the fridge and gathers two beer bottles, even though their systems could do without. It’s a habit, getting something for Buck, because ‘love languages’ or whatever. And old habits die hard.

“Let’s talk on the patio,” Tommy adds, pointing with the neck of the bottle. Buck follows willingly, a faint smile spreading over his face. Tommy sees him look at Sal and Gina sitting hip to hip on the couch and he realizes he has some explaining to do, but as they walk behind the couch, Sal reaches back and pulls Buck by the hoodie.

“Sorry kid but you know I had to test you. You seem alright,” he says. “Don’t fuck up your chance though. I know where you live.” Buck looks at Tommy with worry and Tommy waves his head ‘no’ in reassurance. The room lights up in chuckles and Buck joins them, eyes watery nonetheless. Then Tommy’s gaze lands on the TV and he sees the countdown go by on the broadcast downtown. Seven, six, five, four-

Panic takes over him and when he turns to look at Buck, he’s met with the exact same questioning look. He should have had more time before this. At least say hi properly and get to the apologies first. But Tommy raises his brows and Buck nods with a shaky exhale. Then their lips collide in a clumsy but oh so perfect kiss.

The angle is awkward and this should be a quick peck, but they stay like this for several more seconds, both their hands just hovering around them not quite ready to cross a line.

Happy New Year! The TV chants, and they pull away. The scene mirrors that of their first kiss; Tommy pulls back with his eyes closed, scared that if he opens them then the nightmare will come back and Buck will be gone. But when he pushes himself to do so, Buck is standing there, a tear falling onto his cheek and he’s holding his breath, mouth agape and his eyes search deep into his soul.

Tommy’s ears are ringing but it’s not the fireworks outside. It’s the beating of his heart that’s threatening to fall out of his chest. And he listens to it, grabs Buck’s neck and pulls him back in. The second round is hungry, determined, and the beers have been set on the couch console in favor for their hands to roam freely across charted territory. Tommy finds his favourite dip at the base of Buck’s back, his other hand still wrapped around his Adam's apple. His body shivers when he feels two strong hands run up his front until they settle onto his chest for a light squeeze.

It’s raw and meaningful and unbothered, until someone clears their throat.

*

“I’ll set the dishes in the sink. The leftovers are stored away, but I’m leaving with this amazing fruit cake,” Gina says with Sal in tow.

“W-wait, I didn’t mean to stop you guys, I-”

“Kid, if Lucy hadn’t convinced you to come here before midnight, I would have personally driven mister lonesome here to your place.” Sal loves the moment everything clicks in Buck’s mind and he shoots a look at Tommy who’s turning red. “We were just keeping him company until then.” He winks.

Buck stands there speechless, a little dumbfounded but the smile on his face could light up the city. Tommy also had a plan. The same plan, as it turns out, mastered by the same minds. His dick twitches in the god awful tight jeans knowing Tommy wanted to fight for him. And maybe from the taste of Tommy lingering on his lips.

“Well, we’ll be on our way. Be safe!” Gina adds before gathering their stuff and heading for the door. Sal stops to give Tommy a hug and whispers something to him, to which Tommy nods in agreement.

“And you!” Buck goes cross-eyed looking at his finger. “Don’t be too comfortable being ‘whatever’. Put labels. Be happy that you can do that now. Let people know Tommy’s your boyfriend, whether you’re gay or queer or,” he stops and makes a hand gesture for Buck to finish.

“Bisexual,” he answers.

“There. It’s easy to say, huh? Let people know. Who ever gives a fuck shouldn’t be in your life anyway.” With those wise words, Sal walks past him and out the door. Buck almost starts liking the guy before the roaring of the Charger vibrates through the house and he remembers he could probably never deal with that ego. Tommy seems to notice the disgust on his face and laughs.

“Talk?” Tommy points towards the couch this time, but Buck takes a step closer and brings his hands to his hips.

“You took tomorrow off?” Tommy nods. “Then tomorrow.”

Buck pushes Tommy back against the counter and attacks his mouth again. That would satisfy him, really. Kissing the love of his life in his house. This is what Buck should have emphasized during their last conversation, he thinks. But there’s little time for thinking when Tommy starts undoing his pants and moans obscenely into his open mouth.

“I’ll spend the night on my knees if you ask me to, baby. Don’t worry,” Buck whispers, smug. God he missed this. He runs his hand down the front of Tommy’s pants and tears burn his eyes at the contact with his engorged dick.

“Evan,” Tommy begs faintly.

-

Next part (smut) | Next part (morning conversation)

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged for future works! Tagging:

@weewookinard

[beardedmrbean]

A newborn baby boy was discovered Sunday in a dumpster behind an apartment complex in southwest Houston.

Video footage obtained by local news outlet ABC13 shows emergency services rescuing the baby from the trash and wrapping him in a blanket. The baby's skin is pink and hair wet.

The police responded to a call around 2 p.m. on Sunday from a man who heard a baby crying from a dumpster. When the officers rescued the newborn, he was reacting and moving his hands, as seen in the video.

ABC13 reported that on Tuesday afternoon investigators from the Houston Police Department appeared to focus their attention on a nearby food truck, taking photos and interviewing individuals identified as employees and owners. The truck had been parked at the location for about three months, according to the apartment manager.

The baby was taken to the hospital, found to be in good health, and is now under the care of Child Protective Services, according to local reports.

Police are reportedly continuing to investigate to identify the person responsible for abandoning the baby. Newsweek contacted the police department for more information via email.

A similar incident was reported in Pasadena, in the Houston area, only a few hours prior.

According to local media outlets, the Pasadena Police Department said it received a call around 4:15 a.m. from a person identifying themselves as a father who was having a mental health crisis and looking for a safe place to leave his baby. The infant was later found in a car seat by a dumpster next to a restaurant, authorities say.

The child appears to be "healthy and in good condition," according to child services.

The father appeared in court on Tuesday. He is facing charges of assault of a family member and child abandonment, and is expected to appear in court again on Wednesday.

A third baby was also reportedly abandoned on a walking trail earlier this year, believed to be just hours old.

Texas' Safe Haven law, also known as the Baby Moses law, states that parents who leave a baby in a safe place such as a hospital or fire station will not be prosecuted for abandonment or neglect.

The law states that the baby must be under 60 days old, unharmed, and placed with an employee of these safe places. It exists to give "parents who are unable to care for their child a safe and legal choice," according to the state's Department of Family and Protective Services.

Similar laws exist throughout the country, although the details of the baby's age and what is considered a "safe place" can vary from state to state.

DFPS - Baby Moses Law or Safe Haven

[hellbuticy]

Walker Brothers Hcs pt 2 (California Edition)

we all know the boys grew up in san diego and they simply, are the typical socal type.

every moment the boys weren’t in the woods or involved with Elias, they were at the beach.

they rode their bmxs everywhere. LIKE EVERYWHERE.

they would have little competitions to who can hit the best jump/trick and the loser bad to buy the winner an arizona from the local liquor store

they would drink SoBes: hesh’s fav was the piña colada and logan’s was the strawberry banana

in n out was and is always their comfort food

their family “trips” would be to in n out in the truck and they would all eat in the bed (extra points if its during sunset)

hesh got really into sublime and elias feared he was gonna start smoking weed

logan took the linkin park route n elias feared the kid was going true an existential crisis (he was like 13)

keegan calls logan “cali” when he wants to be a smartass n when hes not calling him “kid”

they were padres fans growing up but elias had a soft sport for the giants (norcal n socal UNITE)

they were never the surfing type but they were the “rush the waves n try to drown each other” type (sibling shit as per usual)

the boys never grew up normally bc they were military brats. so they spent a lot of time on the bases in sd for ghosts business but elias told them it was to finalize his retirement papers

growing up in san diego made the boys want to be navy but elias never really gave them the choice of choosing another branch. so when odin hit, there REALLY was no choice

every time the boys had to go back to no mans land it pained them bc that was HOME

they dont like fish. for how many fish taco places are in sd. they HATE fish

even tho their dad had always owned fords the boys realllyyyyy wanted a tacoma or a 4runner (yota for life dawg)

they werent surf kids. never had a knack for it. BUT they were skim board kids. and they liked bikes

hesh loves to bring up childhood memories.

but elias did the most. he would always tell the other ghosts about “his boys” and the shit they got into.

when the other started to get more comfortable with the walkers, they would recite the stories elias once told ‘em

mrs walker would always SMOTHER them in sunscreen before they went out, especially when going to the beach

cargo shorts and flip flops EVERYWHERE. but when they got older than it was cargo pants n boots

[corroded-hellfire]

Just a Spark - Eddie Munson x Reader

A Collaboration with my beloved kindred spirit @munson-blurbs🤍

Summary: Eddie takes his sons to watch fireworks at Lover's Lake for the Fourth of July. But when he notices you there with some friends, including some male friends, he can't help but be jealous.

Note: Thank you to my dearest @joejoequinnquinn for loving jealous!eddie as much as I do and for coming up with this lovely idea! I still find it funny that it's a Fourth of July fic and you do not live in the US, lol. I hope you all enjoy and happy 4th of July to my fellow Americans 💙

Warnings: older!eddie, dad!eddie, babysitter!reader, eddie being jealous hehe

Words: 3.9k

[As You Wish masterlist]

It wasn’t often that Hawkins held activities that appealed to the whole town. The haunted houses around Halloween only appealed to the teenagers, the winter wonderlands at Christmas only mattered to young children, and the Thanksgiving Parade was something that everyone swears they got dragged along to against their will. Fourth of July in Hawkins was the one day a year that could be counted on to bring people of all ages out to Lover’s Lake for sunshine in the afternoon and fireworks at night. 

Kids would splash and swim together in the shallow area of the lake while their parents watched from picnic blankets spread out not too far away. Teens and college students would come with their friends, the college kids drinking beer out in the open while the teenagers had to hide sips behind a tree or behind a friend’s back. 

It was a tradition in the Munson household to grill up some hamburgers and bring them down to eat at the lake while they watched the fireworks. This particular year things seem to be off-track, though. Brittany had left the house early in the afternoon to run a few errands and pick up some charcoal for the grill so that Eddie could cook the hamburgers. After being gone far too long for just saying she was heading to a few stores, the phone rings and Brittany gives Eddie some sob story about how she ran into her sister who’s having a crisis and she needs to stay with her for a while. Eddie just sighed as he hung up, thinking to himself that at least Brittany wasn’t dumb enough to say it had something to do with work when banks are closed because it’s a national holiday. The only problem—because going out with his boys without his wife was certainly not a problem—he ran into now was that he didn’t have time to run out and get charcoal and make the burgers before they were going to leave for the lake. 

Improvising, Eddie swings through a Burger King drive-through on the way, making sure the three of them would still keep their tradition intact as much as possible. The boys don’t seem to mind the differences between this year and last, maybe just glad to have a chance to hang out with their dad while they did something as cool as watch fireworks. 

Eddie pulls his truck into the already-crowded parking lot and grabs the bag of fast food. As he and the boys get out, people walk by carrying coolers, picnic baskets, and a few types of inner tubes to use in the water. There are tons of people there—which Eddie expected. He takes Luke’s hand into his own and instructs Ryan to grab onto Luke’s other so they don’t lose anyone. 

“Eddie!” A familiar voice calls out and has Eddie whipping around to spot its owner. He quickly sees the Sinclairs; Lucas is waving with his left hand to get Eddie’s attention, with Tiffany on his right hip. 

Eddie nudges the boys. “Look who’s here!” Their eyes widen when they notice Uncle Lucas—who Eddie swears is his younger son’s namesake and certainly isn’t Luke Skywalker—along with Aunt Max and their baby. They practically pull Eddie across the lot to them. 

Clapping Lucas’s hand and pulling him in for a modified bro-hug so he doesn’t crash into Tiffany, Eddie offers his long-time friend a grin. “How have you guys been?” he asks as he gives Max a hug. 

“Good. Tired.” Max says with a laugh. “Tiffany slept through the night for about three days before she started teething.”

“Aww, poor thing,” Eddie coos, chuckling when Tiffany proves her mother’s point by grabbing Eddie’s finger and gnawing on it. “Don’t worry, it doesn’t last as long as it seems,” he reassures the new parents. 

“We’re just headed out,” Lucas explains, kissing his daughter’s cheek. “It’s this little lady’s bedtime, and we’ve gotta get home before the fireworks start.”

“We have no idea how she’ll react to them, and we’re not about to conduct that experiment in public,” Max chimes in, making Eddie laugh again. “But we’ll see you at Ryan’s birthday party next week!”

The Munsons and Sinclairs part with goodbyes and more hugs before Eddie and the boys head towards the lake. 

“I wanna sit near the water!” Luke insists, and Eddie winces at his high-pitched whine. 

“Think we might get a better view of the fireworks if we sit up a little higher.” It’s the truth; plus, he won’t have to worry about Luke flinging himself into the cesspool that Hawkins calls a lake. 

They find a shady spot right under a tree, and Eddie lays out three beach towels so they won’t have to sit in the dirt. He passes out the parchment-wrapped burgers and little bags of fries and sits back with a sigh. This is what he’d always wanted—family traditions with his boys. If only…

“Has anyone seen my sunscreen?”

Eddie freezes mid-bite, only remembering that he has a burger in his hand when his arm starts to ache from being in one position too long. He chews and swallows as though nothing happened, but his mind is racing. 

It can’t be, he thinks. He’s almost certain that this is all in his imagination—God knows he can’t get you out of his head—until he hears someone say your name. 

Just one look, Eddie convinces himself. A quick peek so I can see that it’s not actually her; just someone who sounds like her and has the same name…

His stomach flip-flops when he glances over and sees you in a low-cut red tank top and cutoff denim shorts. Oh, shit, it’s her. And she looks really, really good. He takes a deep breath, trying to gather his scrambled thoughts. He wishes he had a six-pack; a cold beer can always calm his jangled nerves. Okay, I can’t let the boys see. Once that happens, she’ll come over here and—

Eddie’s anxious thought is disrupted by the sight of one of the three guys you’re with applying sunscreen to the back of your neck. He’s got long, light brown hair—though not as long or luscious as his own, Eddie notes wryly. 

Long Hair spends far too much time massaging the lotion into your skin. Calm down, Buffalo Bill. She doesn’t need that much sun protection. 

The only other girl there plucks the lotion bottle from Long Hair’s hands, much to Eddie’s relief, and Eddie turns his attention back to his boys. “You guys ready for the fireworks?” He tries to keep the enthusiasm in his voice. “Sun’s setting, so they’ll be starting soon.”

Ryan nods, chewing on a fry. “I wonder what colors they’ll have,” he muses. 

“Well, I wonder what would happen if I sat on a firework!” Luke pipes up with a mouthful of burger. “Like, would I fly into the sky? Or would it blow up in my butt?”

Eddie laughs loudly. “My money’s on the second one, little man.”

Your laughter floats over to Eddie on the breeze blowing off of the lake. He mentally berates himself, thinking of how he should be enjoying this family tradition with his boys and not be wondering if any of those guys you’re with are your boyfriend or if you’re sleeping with any of them or if…

“Daddy, what’s wrong?”

“Hmm?” Eddie looks up at Ryan’s worried face and frowns. “What do you mean?”

“Your lip,” Ryan says, pointing at the bottom half of his father’s face. “You were chewing on it, and it started bleeding.”

“Silly me,” Eddie says with a forced chuckle. He grabs one of the napkins from the Burger King bag and dabs at his lower lip. Luke has shifted to watch a game of volleyball happening on a court that someone set up and it gives Eddie the opportunity to scoot closer between his boys, so his back is to you and your friends. Maybe now he’ll be able to focus. 

It works for a while. The three of them finish their burgers and Luke is immediately complaining that he’s still hungry. Eddie tells the five-year-old he has to wait and tries to play a game with them to distract his youngest son from his rumbling tummy before the fireworks start. 

“Simon says put your hands on your head. Simon says give your brother a high five,” Eddie instructs as the boys eagerly await the next command. “Simon says stand up. Sit back down. Ah! I didn’t say ‘Simon says!’”

“I win!” Ryan cheers as Luke sprawls out on his beach towel with a groan. The familiar twinkling tune of an ice cream truck approaching has him bolting up, though. 

“Ice cream?” Luke stands up and balances on his tippy toes to get a better view at the parking lot. When his suspicions are confirmed, he hops up and down. “Ice cream! Daddy, can we get some? Pleeeeease?”

“Okay, okay,” Eddie says as if it’s a hardship for him to indulge his boys when in reality he’d already planned on getting ice cream for them at some point tonight. “Get me some too, okay?”

“Cookies and cream?” Ryan asks, citing his dad’s favorite flavor.

“Atta boy,” Eddie says, handing him a ten-dollar bill. Luke starts to walk away and towards the truck, but Eddie stops him with an, “ah-ah-ah. It’s crowded here. I don’t want you to lose each other so hold your brother’s hand.” When Luke opens his mouth to respond, a frown creasing his forehead and his nose wrinkling up, Eddie halts the whining before it even happens. “Hold your brother’s hand.”

“Fine,” Luke huffs and offers his hand to Ryan in the most limp, unenthusiastic manner possible. 

The two walk off and Eddie adjusts his position so he can keep an eye on his sons as they snake their way through the crowd and over to the ice cream truck that already has a line of a few kids in front of it. But from this new angle, Eddie can also see you out of the corner of his eye. A breath rushes out of him as if he’d been holding it since his eyes were last on you. Seeing you makes Eddie calmer and more tense at the same time. As always, your presence brings him comfort and happiness. But you’re with a bunch of guys your own age and the jealousy monster is rearing its ugly head like nobody’s business. Eddie looks down at his lap and his eye catches on his wedding ring, glinting in the fading sun.

“You’re a fucking hypocrite, Munson,” Eddie mumbles to himself. 

Unable to not look in your direction—I swear to God she’s got something magnetic about her, he thinks—Eddie sees you gazing out over the lake. You raise your hand above your eyes to shield them from the bright, falling sun and look around the whole area where people have settled in to have fun. Eddie’s just about to look away, not wanting to risk being caught staring at you if you spot him, when he sees one of your guy friends walking over to you. It’s not Long Hair from before. This guy is shorter and as muscly as the other guy was scrawny. Eddie can hear him calling your name, but you must be too caught up in your thoughts to hear him. Muscles reaches out and touches your arm to get your attention. As if seeing him just touching you isn’t bad enough, Eddie watches as you turn around to face Muscles, but the guy still doesn’t take his hand off of you. The tanned, muscular hand is slowly moving down your arm and a knot grows in Eddie’s stomach. If this asshole takes your hand, Eddie feels like he might throw up the burger he’s barely started digesting. 

Luckily, you move to walk back towards your group of friends before Muscles’s hand could reach yours. Eddie feels twenty pounds lighter. He turns back to look towards the parking lot and sees his sons approaching, Ryan holding an ice cream in each hand, and Luke holding one and holding onto the back of Ryan’s red t-shirt with the other hand. By the way his youngest son is rolling his eyes as they approach, Eddie realizes it was Ryan’s idea that Luke holds on to him. 

Ryan hands Eddie his scoop of cookies and cream, plopping back down to enjoy the mint chip cone he’d bought for himself. 

“DAD! OH MY GOD, DAD!!” Luke shouts, and Eddie nearly drops his cone. 

“What? What’s wrong?”

Luke points down towards the left. “Look at that doggy! He’s so cute!” Sure enough, a middle-aged couple is walking a golden retriever along the lake. Both boys sit up a bit straighter and watch as the owners toss a tennis ball into the water and the dog eagerly paddles after it. 

As Eddie’s heart rate steadies to a normal pace—seriously, he’s going to have to talk with Luke about using his “emergency voice” when it is not an emergency—he finds his gaze drifting back to you. He’s just in time to see Long Hair take the baseball cap from his own head and put it on top of yours. Eddie silently wills you to take it off, chuck it into the lake, set it on fire…but he’s utterly disappointed when you adjust it to your head and wear it proudly. 

Would she wear something of mine if I gave it to her? He silently wonders. He’s so engrossed in whatever flirtatious games you’re playing that he barely hears his older son trying to get his attention. 

“Daddy, your ice cream is leaking over the cone. Daddy! It’s getting runny and gonna drip! Daddy?”

“And whaddya keep looking that way for? The lake is that way!” Luke chimes in, face covered in cotton candy ice cream. 

“Y-Yeah, sorry, guys,” Eddie mumbles, but he keeps his gaze locked on you. A blonde guy wearing a puka shell necklace like he’s on Hawaii Five-0 points to a beach volleyball net that’s just been vacated, and you and your friends follow him. 

It’s two versus two; Muscles is serving as a referee for this game. You and Puka Shell are on a team, and Long Hair and the only other girl in your group stand on the other side of the net. You serve, the girl returns it, Puka Shell lobbies it to you, and you spike it back, surprising yourself. 

Eddie clenches his fist until he feels the ice cream cone begin to break when your teammate wraps his arms around you in a hug. Jesus H. Christ, whatever happened to high-fives? But he knows that he’d envy any little touch these guys got from you. 

He tries to distract himself, asking Ryan if he’s excited for his birthday, but he’s only half-listening. 

“What do you want for a gift?” he asks, raising his eyebrows when his sons look at him curiously. “What?”

“I just said I wanted a new Lego set,” Ryan says. He’s not annoyed, just confused. “Are you feeling okay, Daddy?”

“Maybe he has scurvy,” Luke suggests, “like the pirates in that movie we watched.”

“‘M fine,” Eddie reassures them. It takes a second for him to register what Luke’s suggested. “Did you just say I had scurvy?”

There’s no time for Luke to elaborate—not that Eddie necessarily wants him to—before your joyous squeal filters through the air. It seems as though you and Puka Shell won the game, because he’s twirling you around triumphantly. 

Does she want him picking her up? Touching her? Eddie’s inner monologue runs wild. Okay, she’s laughing and smiling, so that’s good. She’s fine with it; yeah, so that’s fine. Everything’s fine. We’re all fine here. She’s with her friends, I’m a married man here with my kids, and that’s all there is to it. 

The whistle and boom of the first firework lighting the sky is a welcome distraction. Ryan lets out a gasp as he stares in awe of the red shooting through the dark sky. Luke scoots backwards and plops himself in Eddie’s lap. He leans against Eddie’s chest and lays his head back on his shoulder as he becomes engrossed in the spectacle. It’s been a while since Luke’s sat in his lap like this, so it brings a smile to Eddie’s face. 

Mixtures of red, white, and blue fireworks crackle through the air, occasionally making shapes other than the usual spherical pattern that shimmies down. Eddie looks over at Ryan, who has a bright grin on his face. The red firework currently popping off leaves a scarlet shadow behind on his older son’s face. Beyond Ryan, Eddie glimpses a view of you watching the fireworks. You’re still with your friends, but you’re sitting a little bit in front of them with your legs crossed and your elbows resting on your knees. There’s a peaceful joy on your face and it makes Eddie’s heart give a few thumps harder than usual. Your friends behind you are talking but you couldn’t seem to care less about what they’re saying. You’re solely focused on the show in the sky. Eddie looks back at his kids and sees them just as mesmerized by the bursting colors. Luke snuggles back against his chest and Eddie is filled with warmth. He wraps his arms loosely around Luke and rests his head against his son’s smaller one as he looks up and joins in watching the celebration. 

By the time the fireworks are done, Eddie’s pretty sure his hearing is damaged. Didn’t I used to play in a metal band? Jesus, I’m getting old. Luke springs up from his dad’s lap and Ryan stands up and stretches his arms out over his head, releasing a long yawn. 

“How was that?” Eddie asks as he collects the beach towels they had been sitting on.

“So cool!” Luke says, jumping as if to emphasize his point. 

“I like the ones that make the fizzy noises as they go out,” Ryan says as he picks up the empty Burger King bag and balls it up in his hands. 

“My favorite are the ones that go pheeeeew,” Luke attempts to mimic the whistle, “then BANG!”

“What about you, Daddy?” Ryan asks. 

“Hmm,” Eddie hums as he considers the question. “The ones that were shaped like circles. They looked pretty cool. Okay, now come on and take my hands, guys. It’s gonna be like a stampede getting out of here.” Eddie tucks the towels under one arm and offers a hand to each son. 

They only make it about five steps before Luke is groaning. “It’s going to take forever to—hey! Look!”

Both Eddie and Ryan turn their heads to look in the direction that Luke is pointing. Eddie’s heart stalls in his chest. Luke’s grinning from ear to ear as he notices you walking with your friends. Ryan gives a gasp of delight when his eyes land on you as well. 

“I’m gonna go say hi!” Luke exclaims, and he’s already halfway to you before Eddie can even open his mouth. 

“Luke, I—ugh, shit.” Eddie mumbles the last part under his breath as he leads Ryan by the hand over to you and your friends. Luke is already in your arms by the time they get there. 

“And then the red one went higher than all the others! And I think it had the loudest boom, too,” Luke is saying. You look up and the brightest smile lights up your face as you see Eddie and Ryan standing there. 

“Hey, strangers,” you greet and Ryan dives in for a hug. You chuckle and wrap your arms around him too. 

Long Hair is standing to the side, slightly closer to Eddie than he is to you, and the rest of your friends are behind you. He gives a small chuckle at the intensity of the hugs the kids give you before turning to Eddie and saying, “You want a hug, too?”

You jab Long Hair in the ribs with your elbow, but that only makes him chuckle more and wrap an arm around you to pull you back against him. This time, Eddie notices, you don’t have the same enthusiastic grin that you had earlier in the evening. It takes everything in his power not to pry you from his arms. 

“I’ll see you guys on Monday, yeah?” you ask the Munson men, desperate to fill the silence. 

“Usual time and place,” Eddie says. The words would usually be accompanied by a wink or a smirk, but something about being around these college guys is grating on his nerves and it’s the closest he’s felt to being intimidated since he was a senior in high school—the first time. 

“Bye!” both boys call and wave at you before walking away with their dad. You wave in return, but it looks pitiful compared to their enthusiastic ones. 

As soon as they’re out of earshot, you pull out of your friend's arm and spin around to face him. “Peter, do you ever shut up?”

“Calm down,” Peter says, exhaling a sound that’s a mixture of a laugh and a scoff. “This guy’s old enough to be your dad.”

Tony smirks and rests a muscled arm on Paul’s shoulder. “Maybe she’s into the whole ‘daddy’ thing.”

The eye roll you give them is involuntary. “You guys are assholes!” 

Turning on your flip flop heel, you spin in the other direction and jog a bit until you catch up with Eddie and the boys. 

“Hey! Where are you going?” Paul asks.

A soft, gentle hand lands on Eddie’s shoulder and he looks back to see you offering him an apologetic smile. 

“I’m sorry if my friends were weird…and I’m sorry if I’m making this weirder.”

Eddie’s entire demeanor changes; despite having to watch you flirt with those douchebags—and then being mocked by them—he can’t help but soften towards you. “Nah, Sweetheart, you’re good. Be safe tonight, okay?” Be safe? Seriously, Munson? What are you, her grandpa?

You don’t seem to notice the way he bites his tongue, trying to quell the surge of embarrassment. “I always am,” you say reassuringly. “See you Monday?”

Eddie nods as you turn around to head back to your friends, utterly oblivious to the way your natural beauty outshines the brightest firework tonight. You’re everything he could ever want, but you’re young and gorgeous with a million better prospects than an old married man. 

He takes one last look at you before he brings the boys to the car. The passenger seat is empty, and he wears a sad smile when he thinks about you sitting there, excitedly chatting with him and the kids about the evening. Eddie would rest his hand on your thigh while he drives back home, and once Ryan and Luke are sound asleep, you and Eddie could make some fireworks of your own. 

Shaking his head, Eddie pulls out from the parking spot and braces himself for the holiday traffic. He grumbles some swear words under his breath, flicking on the radio to the first station that doesn’t have commercials. 

“…say I’m not so tough, just because I’m in love with an uptown girl.”

He leans back in his seat and taps out the rhythm on the steering wheel. Funny, he’s never really been a Billy Joel fan, but something about this song reminds him of—

“Dad! Luke’s looking at me!”

“He looked at me first!”

“Both of you close your eyes,” Eddie orders. He can’t see whether or not they listened, but the squabbling stopped, so he’ll consider it a victory. 

“Uptown girl, she’s my uptown girl…”

[waywardxwords]

The Fix - Part 8

Summary: Everyone has a past, but yours seemed to haunt you. You've tried to move forward with a normal life, but the day comes when that's not possible anymore. When Sheriff Beau Arlen enters your life, you're certain he is going to judge you just like everyone else in town does. But something about Beau is different.

Warnings: Slight language, discussion about drugs/drug dealing, slight angst, fluff-ish

Word Count: ~2.7k

Beau’s foot pressed down on the accelerator of his truck until it had touched the floorboard. He tried to get a handle on his emotions, but he wasn’t used to feeling this way and he hated it. He had always been able to use his adrenaline as fuel in his line of work, but this felt different. All he could think about was Matt Donahue’s words—“We’re going to offer him a plea.” 

In all honesty, he should’ve seen it from a mile away. As a Sheriff and someone who worked with prosecutors on a daily basis, a plea deal made sense. The FBI weren’t interested in some small town drug dealer. They wanted the big guys. But he was too close to this case, and it felt dangerous. 

The tires of his truck squealed as he pulled into the parking lot in front of the office. His feet carried him to the front of the building as he tried to slow his breathing. 

The glass door swung open with more force than he had anticipated as he barged into the lobby. Justin Markham, the district attorney, stood there as if he were awaiting Beau’s arrival. Next to him was Matt Donahue, the agent Beau was getting increasingly annoyed with seeing in his town. 

“Beau,” Justin started carefully as he read the frustration and anger across his face. “I need you to just hear us out.”

“Hear you out?” Beau bit back as he planted his feet just in front of them. “You call me, tellin’ me you’re offerin’ Jackson Lyle a plea deal. Jackson Lyle, the man who has been dealin’ heroin, cocaine and meth in this town for the last four years. The man who kidnapped his child, shot one of my deputies and then held me and the child’s mother at gunpoint?!” He couldn’t control the volume or tone of his voice any longer. 

“I know you’re disappointed,” Justin spoke while Matt remained silent. “There’s a reason–”

“There’s absolutely no reason for us to explain this to you,” Matt sneered as he cut Justin off. “This one’s above your pay grade, Sheriff.”

“It’d be in your best interest not to speak, agent,” Beau snapped back. He turned back to Justin. “How do you expect me to keep the people of this town safe when you’re just gonna let this piece of shit back out on the street? What’s the deal, anyway? Is he even gonna see the inside of a cell?”

The DA took a breath and glanced at the agent. Matt seemed to give up and waved, as if saying he didn’t care and to just fill Beau in at this point. 

“Let’s go to your office, alright?” Justin placed a hand on Beau’s shoulder as the three men walked in and closed the door behind them. “The judge is ready to sign a restraining order for the victims today. There’s no question on that, it’ll be very clearly stated to Jackson that he’s not allowed anywhere near them or their property. He’s already agreed to it verbally.”

“Oh, yeah, that sounds great. Let’s trust the abusive drug dealer who doesn’t give a shit about anyone but himself,” he said sarcastically. “Fan-fuckin’-tastic work, guys.” 

“Sheriff,” Matt said firmly. “We have an opportunity to get to the root of the opioid crisis in Big Sky. We can take out the source, and that starts with information we get from Jackson Lyle.” 

“I’m not an idiot, I hear you,” Beau snapped back. “I’m tryin’ to figure out how I’m gonna tell the mother that just got her daughter back and has been afraid of this man for all these years that he’s gonna walk.” 

“It’ll take some time,” Justin tried to assure him. “The restraining order will be firmly in place, and the FBI still has a lot of information they need to get out of him. He will remain in custody until everything checks out. We’re talking a month, minimum. It could be six months, for all we know.” 

Beau sighed and rubbed a hand down his mouth as he processed. “Alright,” he finally conceded, more so because he knew there was absolutely nothing he could do to change the outcome. He shuffled in his pocket as he felt the device vibrate against his thigh. 

“The FBI has promised they will keep you in the loop along the way,” Justin looked at Matt pointedly—as if he was reminding him of the expectations. 

“I sure as hell hope so,” Beau’s voice trailed a bit as he saw Cassie’s ID on his phone—he had received a text message. He scrolled to open it. 

Cassie Dewell Hey, can you send me their home address? 

Beau quickly wrote back. 

I don’t have it on hand. It’s off of Arbor Road just off of Main. Why?

“I, uh, I gotta get going. I’ll say thank you for keeping me up to speed, but I’m still not happy,” Beau grumbled as he nodded at both the agent and DA. 

“I’ll call you later,” Justin shook his hand before Beau headed back for the front door. He stepped into his truck and pulled his cowboy hat from his head, placing it in the passenger seat before he put the key in the ignition. His phone vibrated once more. 

Cassie Dewell They left a note that they headed there to grab a few things and to meet them there. 

Beau felt like he could scream. He knew there wasn’t any immediate danger after talking to Justin and Matt, but he also knew he had asked one thing of you—to stay put and just wait for Cassie to get there. 

“Dammit,” he couldn’t help but curse as he squeezed the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white.

The tires crunched upon the gravel. He barely waited for his truck to stop before he shifted into park and threw open the door. 

“Hey,” you said, a bit confused as you approached from the front door. You had heard the familiar sound of his truck pull up and decided to greet him from there. “You okay? I thought Cassie was coming. What did they say?”

Beau slammed his door shut. “Was there any confusion about what I asked you to do before I left? Was I clear, or do you just not care that I’m trying my absolute damnedest to keep you safe?” His words nipped, much like the cool Montana air. 

“I just wanted to come back to get some fresh clothes and bring Bailey back to the comfort of our home for a few minutes,” you tried to explain with your eyes widened. He was mad; pissed, even. But you didn’t feel like it was fair. “Jackson’s locked up, right? Even with a potential deal, there’s no way they’d let him out right now.”

Beau knew you were right, but the fear just wouldn’t dissipate. “But if there are people lookin’ for him, where do you think they’re gonna go when they find out he’s locked up, huh? Where would they go when they realize that he’s probably gonna strike a deal for ratting them out? Who would they go after to get to him?” His eyes hadn’t faltered from yours as he took focused steps towards the stairs leading up to your porch. He stopped just before the first one.

You, too, knew there was truth behind Beau’s words. “So you’re going to stand out here and yell at me?!” You couldn’t help the rise to your voice. After what you went through with Jackson, you had sworn you’d never let a man control you like that again. Even though Beau was being rational, you couldn’t allow yourself to accept it. “You’re going to argue with me because I just wanted some normalcy again?”

“I’m arguin’ with you because I’m trying to fix this,” he sounded exasperated, though unphased by your tone. “I’m tryin’ to keep you safe.”

“Oh, don’t you worry, Sheriff,” your tone was snarky. “I don’t need you to fix a damn thing. There isn’t anything broken that needs fixing.” You muttered, frustration burned your eyes in the form of angry tears. It was a lie. You felt completely broken most of the time, but your frustration had gotten the best of you and you didn’t feel like admitting it. Beau knew anyway. 

“You know what,” Beau grumbled as he shook his head. He sucked on his teeth for a second before he returned his gaze to you. “You’re right, darlin’. You don’t need fixing. But this situation you're in? It makes me crazy. You don’t deserve it—an ounce of it,” his words were purposeful as he stood planted just in front of the first step of your porch. “And over the last few days, I’ve gotten to a point where I care…I care a lot. So I’d be damned if I put you in a situation where you’re not safe. Because when you’re not safe, I can’t even think straight.”

The air between you was tense, and you weren’t sure what to say for a moment. Beau’s chest rose and fell with each heavy breath he took. The air he blew out created small clouds, a clear indication of how hard he was breathing and how cold the air was. 

“I’m sorry that you were scared,” you tried to dissect his words. “I’m sorry that I didn’t listen. I’m not used to this…” you paused as you tried to think about how you wanted to explain the situation. “I’m not used to having someone look out for me. I look out for myself.”

“You’re gonna have to let that go, darlin’,” Beau was still frustrated, but his tone had softened. His feet moved slowly as he climbed the first stair. “I am standin’ here, telling you I want this.” His voice was low as he took another step. “I want the hard times, the good times; I’ll take on all the crazy…” with one more step, he was level with you now. He stood there unwavering, and you found it hard to hold his eye contact under the weight of his words. “And if that’s what you want, too? Even better. But I need you to meet me halfway, sweetheart.” His voice was just above a whisper now. 

Frustrated tears had pooled in your eyes again, but this time it was something deeper. Your life was complicated—it had been complicated—for a very long time. You hadn’t thought of sharing your life with anyone but Bailey for as long as you could remember. But here Beau stood, telling you he wanted all of it. 

“How am I supposed to meet you halfway when you won’t open up to me? I barely know anything about you, Beau. You can’t take your walls down, so how am I supposed to meet you in the middle?” You folded your arms across your chest and stood your ground. 

Beau broke eye contact and a hot breath escaped his lips. “You’re right, darlin’,” he said softly. His tongue darted out over his lips. “You wanna know my story? I left Houston because I screwed up.” He lifted his head to find your eyes again. “There was a case I was investigatin’ and it went south. I was followin’ the wrong trail, and a deputy got killed because of it. I panicked, and I wasn’t gonna take this job because of it. But I had to be close to my daughter and I didn’t know anything other than law enforcement. Nine times outta ten, I feel like an imposter in this job. But I promised myself I’d never make another mistake again. I’ve spent the last three years trying to fix it—all of it. Trying to fix myself, and tryin’ my damnedest not to screw anything up.”

He paused, and your heart sank in your chest a little. You felt overwhelming sympathy for him and what he had been through. “You can’t blame yourself, Beau.”

He chuckled almost sarcastically. “Oh, I can and I do, sweetheart,” he sighed. “But that’s besides the point. We all have stuff. And you’re right, I need to open up more if I’m askin’ you to meet me in the middle. I’m willin’ to do that…I’m willing to try.” 

“I want to try, too, Beau,” you breathed out, Beau’s smile hidden for only a moment as your breath fogged in front of you. “I can’t promise we won’t have more moments of me not listening or pushing back on you…”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way, darlin’,” he drawled, just before he captured your lips with his. 

Cassie had arrived shortly after and agreed to hang out with you and Bailey. Beau had said he had one more stop to make, and while you didn’t know where he was headed, you didn’t push back or ask any questions. 

Beau had called in a favor, one he wasn’t sure would be granted. But for the first time since this whole ordeal started, the FBI had come through. 

He pulled open the heavy metal door and prepared himself to go through the metal detector. 

“I’m meeting Matt Donahue with the FBI,” Beau said to guard just past the security entrance after he showed his Sheriff’s badge. The man led Beau through a code-locked door that closed shut with a loud bang. 

Matt stood there in his suit with his hands in his pockets. “I’m breaking a lot of rules letting you do this,” Matt grumbled as he glanced at the watch on his wrist. 

“Yeah, well,” Beau cleared his throat. “I helped catch him, didn’t I? He’s been creating mayhem in my town, I think you can give me five minutes.” Matt rolled his eyes but started down the long hallway. Beau followed. 

There was another guarded door with a code lock. Matt nodded at the guard there, who unlocked the door and opened it for them to walk through. 

Beau glanced around at the barred cells. Chatter and yells from the prisoners echoed off of the walls. Matt stopped in front of a cell. 

“Ah, if it isn’t the pretty boy sheriff,” Jackson Lyle sneered from where he sat on his cot. He had bandages around his shoulder and upper torso. Seeing that brought Beau a little bit of joy. 

“At least one of us looks good,” Beau snided back. He glanced at Matt with a pointed look. 

“Five minutes,” Matt repeated before he retreated back down the hallway, as promised. Beau turned his attention back to the cell. 

“Ooh, what’s the pretty sheriff got to tell me, hmm? You hear I’m getting a deal? I’ll be out of here in no time,” he seemed so proud of himself. 

“Yeah, about that,” Beau glanced down but then locked eyes with the man on the other side of the bars. “As we both know, you’ll have two restraining orders against you the second you step foot outside this prison. But I also want you to know, I’ll be watchin’. Every step you take, you’ll have eyes on you as long as you stay in Big Sky.”

“You say that now, but just you wait and see. My ex-wife can be a real bitch. You’ll get tired of her shit the same way I did,” he sneered. “She’s a broken woman. She won’t let anybody try to fix her.”

“Here’s the difference,” Beau was firm in his words and made sure he held his composure. “I’m gonna go in there and pick up the pieces that you broke. And she and I, together–we’ll fix it ourselves. While you’re only interested in getting your fix, I’m prepared to put in the work and be what she and Bailey need. You’ll never see them again, Jackson. And if you do, you’ll end up with a bullet between your eyes. I’ll put it there myself.”

A/N: And there we have it, folks! Part 8! Did we love it? Hate it? Surprised by our least favorite FBI agent's slight change of heart (or that he has a heart at all?).

It pains me to say, but this will be the last full chapter for The Fix! I'll post the Epilogue on Wednesday that will bring things full circle. I've struggled with if I wanted to carry this further (and while I think there are opportunities for additional development, I also sort of feel like I'd be drawing it all out if I kept going). All of that to say: I do think there may be a one shot or two (or more, I mean--who knows?) in the future. I really loved branching out and pushing myself to write Beau Arlen, and I truly enjoyed writing the reader & Bailey in this series, as well.

While it's not quite the end just yet, I can't forget to say THANK YOU! I have gotten so much love on this series, and I truly appreciate it.

See you on Wednesday :)

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[dostoyevsky-official]

‘Human safari’ – Kherson civilians hunted down by Russian drones

In the ravaged city of Kherson, where Ukraine-controlled territory and Russian forces are separated by the Dnipro River instead of no man’s land between trenches in the eastern Donbas region, civilians are being targeted routinely. Terrified locals refer to the new strategy as “a human safari.”

“Drones are now flying in groups and attacking everything that moves,” said Serhii, a volunteer-turned-taxi driver.  “Our charity hub had to close because trucks can no longer deliver humanitarian aid. This has not only cut off critical supplies but also crippled local businesses that rely on transportation. It’s scary to think what will happen in winter when food and fuel shortages could escalate into a full-blown crisis.”

Drone strikes averaged 100 per day in July and August 2024, he said. But as autumn set in, the numbers have spiked dramatically. Ukraine’s TSN news program reported that a record high of 330 drone strikes and 224 explosive drops hit the region on Sept. 9 alone.

To attack women buying watermelons at city corners and children playing in parks, Russian forces use modified commercial drones.

[...] “First, you see a reconnaissance drone like a Mavic,” said Svitlana, a doctor living by the river.

“Then comes an FPV (first-person view) drone, dropping a grenade on you. Or, a Coca-Cola can with explosives. Sometimes, the drone crashes and blows up. A 90-year-old woman was badly injured next door, in her yard,” she added.

Explosive Ordnance Disposal (EOD) teams respond to drone attacks in Kherson every day.

“Often, as I drive to the location, drones chase my car: they do ‘double taps,’ striking first responders and sappers,” a leading expert in the field told the Kyiv Independent on condition of anonymity citing lack of authority to speak with the media.

[...] "Russian volunteers fundraise for Mavic and FPV drones because these commercial models lack military certification and aren’t supplied by the military.”

[...] “Our Ukrainian military has intercepted Russian phone conversations. It seems that graduates of Russian drone pilot schools practice on us, using any moving target for training. They kill and injure civilians every day.”

[phoenix-downer]

FFVII Rebirth Demo Impressions

I played the demo several nights ago and loved it! This post is about my thoughts/impressions as I was playing.

(Quick note: My shipping preferences are Cloud/Tifa and Zack/Aerith, so that is going to influence my perspective and what I write about. There will also be spoilers for the OG game and Crisis Core throughout).

One of the first things I noticed as I was playing through was the graphics. The graphics look fantastic. I can tell the game being on the PS5 is making a big difference. The jump in quality from Remake to Rebirth is really noticeable.

It's so weird seeing Cloud act like Zack. Like I KNOW it's Zack and it's creeping me out a;lksdjfdfj because it's just...so not Cloud. They knocked the "this is wrong" vibes out of the park by using Zack's mannerisms and gestures with Cloud's model slapped on top, and it's giving this uncanny valley feeling to everything "Cloud" does. Cody Christian even sounds more like Zack's VA (Caleb Pierce). The attention to detail with all that is excellent. The updated graphics give them a lot to work with in terms of showing the wonkiness with Cloud's memories.

There was also a clever shot in the truck of "Cloud" asking the real Cloud if he's okay, and you see a hint of Cloud's blond hair peeking through the helmet.

I liked the dramatic/heroic version of Sephiroth's theme that played. And when Zack gets hurt by one of the monsters, I think it was Cloud who made sure he's okay, which was a sweet touch. Also, the screen is tinted with green, which is a cool way to show the effects of the Mako poisoning on Cloud.

Another thing I noticed: Cloud's eyes look SUPER green, more so than in Remake. Don't know if it's the upgrade to the PS5 or if they wanted to show the Mako poisoning progressing, but I thought it was a cool detail.

Okay it's like Cloud swapped he and Zack in his memories directly at one point soon after they arrive in Nibelheim. I swear this is 100% what Zack would've said to Cloud about Aerith, but instead it's one of the "security officers" saying it to "Cloud": "So, any friends here you wanna see? Maybe a girlfriend? Speaking of which, I bet you're dying to hear about mine. Am I right?"

Lmao Sephiroth still has groupies, this is giving Crisis Core fanclub vibes and I'm all here for it. I'm glad the game still has those silly moments and that continuity with past games. It makes the tragedy I know will unfold later on that much more poignant.

Speaking of which, it's depressing seeing all the townspeople in Nibelheim knowing they're going to die. Just walking around talking to them, Nibelheim really feels like a lived-in place that Cloud has so many personal connections to.

An NPC asked Cloud if he's seen his mother yet, another one recognized me, and another couple of people noticed me and asked if I'm looking for Tifa. They Know™️

Also, it's really interesting seeing Cloud craft the welcome home he WISHES he had gotten. He wanted to come back to Nibelheim as a hero everyone praised, but the reality was much different. So seeing that contrast is a really good insight into Cloud's psyche and what he wants (praise, recognition, approval, etc.)

Oh found some cats, I'm glad there's another area dedicated to just cats ;aldjf; (complete with photographic evidence):

Awwwwww there was a sweet reference to Tifa leading the exercise classes for Nibelheim from Traces of Two Pasts, and she asks Cloud in the modern day if he was able to keep up with the class (she wasn't teaching this particular one, but I love that bit of continuity).

Tifa you can tell is nostalgic for Nibelheim hearing Cloud's recounting of what happened too, the voice acting and dialogue for this part is all really well-done.

The option to see Cloud's mom was really well-done. Cloud never went back to see her in reality, of course, which means his memory glitches out like crazy during this part: he "hears" his mother talking to him about a conversation that happened at an earlier time, like his brain is desperately trying to create something that never happened and is latching onto the nearest fragments it can find. I like how they translated this scene from the OG game, it gave off eerie vibes.

HE DID THE LIL SHRUG AND NOD LIKE HE DOES IN THE OG GAME if you try to enter his mom's house again after the "memory" is over. Also, it's like his mind is trying to protect itself from delving too deeply into a false memory so glitchy (and maybe he feels a deep level of guilt at not actually going to see her as well), and so you can't go back into his house, just like in the OG game.

You can have Cloud go up the water tower too, and he looks towards Tifa's window THE ANGST OF IT ALL a;lskdfj. I love those little moments of Pining™️

Tifa's like wait you went to my place?? Oh Cloud...you were such an awkward weirdo...

"Our reasons, huh? I bet most of them had to do with you." Barret shading Cloud for why he and Tifa didn't hang out more ;alkdjf again I love the humor in these moments.

Awwww Fluffy got mentioned! Nice to hear her brought up again.

"You went into my room?" I'm dead. Tifa sounds so indignant and rightfully so. It's weirdo behavior Cloud ;laskdfj

"You went through my stuff?!" Not off to a great start buddy, but I had him pick that option because I figured he ought to be honest. Tifa and Aerith both call him an asshole if you admit to doing it too, which made me laugh. And naturally my mind is wondering how this will impact the iconic date later on. Did I just piss both Aerith and Tifa off and lose affection points with both girls? Probably lol (and honestly, Cloud deserved it for that stunt).

Tifa's lil moogle plushie on her bed is adorable. I love the touches like that that make the environment feel more lived in.

Awwww I found Tifa's theme to play on the piano hehe. I love that that's the first piano piece you can find in the game. Just one of my favorite FFVII songs because it fits Tifa so perfectly and has this bittersweet sense of longing as well as this beautiful tenderness to it.

Also, I got a kick out of the piano minigame. The first time I wasn't great at it and got a C. I struggled to do both "hands" at the same time. I did it two more times after that, and it starts to sound really nice when you have a streak of a bunch of correct notes in a row. Like Cloud's going to town on the piano with extra flourishes. If you miss notes again though the metronome comes back on lol like "you still need to practice and get the rhythm down."

The second two times I got an A (I'll have to keep practicing to get a star and see what happens), and the gang praised Cloud, which I thought was cool.

Found more Sephiroth groupies and ran into Zangan in the inn. It was really sweet hearing Zangan praise Tifa so highly. Also, "Cloud" saying, "yeah right" when Zangan says "Tifa will go far" is another good clue Cloud isn't himself. Tifa was offended and Aerith was offended on her behalf. I love how Aerith keeps backing Tifa up on stuff, it's really nice to see more of their friendship.

The photographer dude is back and I love him. And he even says the same thing he said to Zack in Crisis Core about how he can't waste his film on Zack because he doesn't know who he is ;alskdfj. What's a guy got to do to get a little respect?

"You look so different" lol yes I do random villager because I'm not me, and then there are some nice creepy foreshadowing moments from her kids. The girl says, "Gonna beat those monsters?" and the boy says, "Gonna be 'em?"

The irony of the mayor saying he'd brag about Sephiroth visiting Nibelheim till the day he dies:

I still really love Brian Lockhart's design. He's like if the 70s met cowboy fashion, and it just works somehow. And this carries over from the OG game, but his concerns about Tifa's safety are well-founded given what happened when she and Cloud were kids and sets up future reveals in the remake trilogy nicely.

Also, Tifa is so small next to Sephiroth. I love her sass in this part of the story, and this time around there's some country twang banjo version of her theme and I love it. Also Sephiroth shaded the camera guy al;sdkfj;dskf but "Cloud" talked him into it and thus the iconic photo came into being. Again those moments of humor will never not be funny. And I loved how Tifa was being such a good guide and giving info about the area as they started to ascend the mountain.

Also, when you finally get to the title screen, it cracked me up how Nomura is listed first, before Hamaguchi. Probably a seniority/respect thing, but Nomura is the creative director and Hamaguchi is the director.

Also, the version of the main theme that plays as you go up Mt. Nibel is awesome, and once again I had to get a screenshot because this area is just so beautiful:

Tifa wanting to travel is a sweet touch, though Sephiroth is practical and points out that he travels on business trips and not for fun. Of course "Cloud" points out that you do learn stuff on these trips. It's a nice contrast between Tifa's naive optimism, Sephiroth's jaded world-weary outlook, and Zack's positivity tempered by experience.

Also, Sephiroth's hair is very swishy. I thought that needed a note as I was playing this. Props to the artists, animators, etc. who rendered it.

I chuckled at Tifa racing up the mountain and teasing "Cloud" and Sephiroth about whether or not they can keep up. Just shows a fun, playful side to her personality and also shows how eager she is to prove herself. And then she dropkicked a monster to protect "Cloud" and then teased him about it alks;jfdsf. She's so much snarkier with Zack than she is with Cloud, and it's an interesting contrast.

The real Cloud of course is in the background, protecting Tifa from danger. Even in his rewritten version of history, the real him is lurking in his subconscious protecting her because she's that important to him. She thanked him so sweetly when he did too.

I made a note about seeing the bridge that collapsed with Cloud and Tifa on it when they were kids, man all the little details like this and the foreshadowing is just A+.

Tifa has Trauma™️ from falling off a bridge before, hmmm, wonder what that's from, and she's still like hey I'm the guide I'll lead us a;ldkfj when "Cloud" offers to go first lol.

Still holds true years later but wooooow Nibelheim sucks at constructing good bridges lol. It was a wholesome moment where "Cloud"/Zack grabbed Cloud and kept him from drowning though, and Sephiroth was able to grab Tifa (which is ironic considering how he tries to kill her not much later, and it's sad because it really shows he was a good guy). Of course the other security officer probably drowned rip, poor guy.

YAY SEPHIROTH'S IN MY PARTY FINALLY

"For your performance review" lol I like Sephiroth's sass and how he teases "Cloud" like this.

I just obliterate everything playing as Sephiroth ;alsdkfj and truly love playing as him. And him slamming his own dad will never not be funny, I mean Hojo just really sucks.

At this point I started focusing more on playing the game since there were more monsters to fight etc., but I still got some nice screenshots and had a few more thoughts.

The Mako spring just looks incredible, so I had to include a photo:

The scenery by the ocean was gorgeous too, I can't wait to go to Costa del Sol:

The real Cloud helping Tifa get to safety from the monster and "Cloud"/Zack and Sephiroth being bros is top-tier content. Also Sephiroth looks like a model in pretty much every shot he's in:

Oh the dramatic irony of Tifa not knowing it's Cloud and him refusing to talk and her being sassy and telling him, "You better keep me safe" and then of course he does. The music is creepy now that we're about to enter the reactor lol, of course it is.

"Would it kill this guy to say something" he would die from embarrassment and shame, yes:

"The company really needs to be more transparent" that's the understatement of the year "Cloud" ;lakfj;asdf

Cool use of JENOVA'S theme. I always enjoy hearing that theme and how otherworldy but also very 90s it sounds.

Zangan's comment here is gold, I love the bee in his bonnet bit:

The Shinra basement stuff was genuinely creepy l;kasjdf like I know what happens and I was still freaked out! The atmosphere was just really well done.

"I should go. Mother is waiting." There it is, the iconic meme line a;ldal;skdjf;lsdjf it just kills me, Sephiroth is such a psycho.

Loved seeing Zangan helping people get out of the town and telling "Cloud" to get in there and help, but of course the situation is still incredibly dire by the time "Cloud" gets there.

This shot in front of the water tower was gorgeous and really haunting, especially when the water tower collapsed. Just the symbolism with that, the loss of Cloud and Tifa's special place and how not long after this, he feels like he failed her and failed to keep his promise:

Main Scenario: Check on Mom. Oh Cloud...

And then you see the real Cloud collapsed in front of his house and calling for his mom, this is so depressing:

This is where the more realistic graphics really serve the story well, because it makes this moment that much more of a gut punch, especially when he hears his mother begging him to live. The last few moments before her soul returns to the planet perhaps, trying to save her son from danger one last time.

And now that "Cloud" is hurt, he looks busted up even in the menu. I thought that was a cool detail to include.

It's like Cloud's memories are trying to right themselves because he winds up on the ground like where he was supposed to be. When Sephiroth murdered the man who tried to help him and then went on his creepy murder spree of several other villagers culminating with the mayor, that was all really well done too. Horrifying because there's nothing Cloud can do to stop the senseless murder of people he's known all his life, and it really shows how cold and ruthless Sephiroth has become.

This moment was good too with the memories seeming glitchy again:

And then of course I must end this on The Iconic Scene™️ a;lsdkfja;kdslf complete with psycho smirk:

Needless to say, I very much enjoyed this demo and am looking forward to the Juno one! And the full game, February 29 can't come fast enough.