#we also had a fan on tonight that we did not have Tuesday so. I think she was a big help

[autopsytableromance]

You can just. Take breaks. Did y’all know that. Did you know it doesn’t have to be none stop

[littlegrapejuice]

Saved his life | LS2

Pairing: Logan Sargeant x Reader

Summary: You come to check on Logan after qualifying at the Dutch GP, hoping to lift his spirits.

Author's Note: ok so this literally came to me in a dream😭 logan's replacement was announced on tuesday (still crying about it btw) and istg i woke up wednesday morning after having lived this plot during my sleep

F1 MASTERLIST🏎

You had been seeking him out after FP3, and were once again seeking him out after qualifying. Logan was nowhere to be found and you worried about the state he mentally was in since his crash. The backlash from his team as well as journalists had blown out of proportion, for they were all focusing on the damages suffered by the car before considering the health of the driver.

Similar to you, Logan's fans were doing their best to support him and wondered about how he was doing. You had seen many comments online about people complaining that neither Williams - as in James Vowles - nor commentators had expressed an interest in the well-being of the driver, only talking about ruining a newly upgraded car - which would be proven illegal later on.

Scouring the paddock, you were now going from garage to garage looking for Logan. Obviously, you had first gone to the Williams one but without any success in finding the American. You hadn't even known at first if he was actually at the track, but a quick shot of him on the TV screen had confirmed you that he was indeed in his garage.

This is why as soon as qualifying ended, you had waited for George to come back to the Mercedes garage so that you could notify him that you were leaving for the time being. You had plans together later tonight, meaning that he didn't mind you doing whatever you wanted until then.

And that's thus how you were still walking around the paddock, praying that it wouldn't take much longer to find Logan.

As you then thought you had seen him from afar, someone obviously had to come up to you and stop you in your tracks. You turned around at the tap on your shoulder and was met with a blonde driver, but not quite the one you would've rather faced.

"Hi Max," you said with a smile.

"Hey, you alright?" He asked both because he was genuinely interested in your answer and because he couldn't help but notice you frantically looking around.

"Yeah, I'm good! Congrats on P2, that's great at your home race." You gave a last glance to the side and decided to temporarily abort your mission as you had unfortunately lost sight of who you thought had been Logan.

"Thanks, I wish I could've gotten pole but I'll get the first place from turn one so that's alright."

"I'll be internally rooting for you, but you know I'll have to stick to my roots and publicly support my team."

"Of course," Max replied. "The Red Bull garage is always open if you ever feel like changing your mind. We also probably have better food than Mercedes." He let out a smile at your laugh before scratching his throat, as if he was thinking about his next words. "Listen, I-"

"Sorry Max," you apologised as you checked your watch and got afraid you would miss logan leaving the track. "I'd love to talk more with you but I was on the way to do something important so please make it quick."

"Yeah, hmm... did you have the chance to visit the city and its surroundings? I was thinking that..." Max hesitated before he saw you nodding at him, silently telling him to continue. "We could grab a drink or some food later on, and I can show you around? Seeing as this is my home country, I'm pretty familiar with it so I could give you a proper tour and you'd see things that you would never see with a regular tour guide and-"

"Sounds lovely yeah!" You felt pretty bad for interrupting him once again, but the clock was really ticking and you were getting more nervous. "I already have something planned for tonight though, so maybe another day?"

"Well, there's only tomorrow left then. After the race?" He suggested with hope in his tone.

"I'll get back to you on that. Depending on who's winning, I might be celebrating someone else you know."

"Of course, but I'm pretty confident that I can score another victory here."

"Great, then that's settled! Super cool to chat with you Max, I'll see you later." You waved at him and quickly started walking again to the direction you had last seen Logan several minutes ago.

You were gone so fast that you hadn't even heard Max telling you that he would text you his request again, as he had sensed that your focus had been on all but your exchange with him. You liked Max to be honest; he was a really sweet guy and could easily match your energy as a fellow yapper. However, he had chosen the worst moment to strike up a conversation with you. Thinking about how you could repay it to him next time you'd see him - probably tomorrow, all your stress was going away as you finally found the person you were looking for.

You stopped close enough to him that he would notice you, but a few metres away so that you had time to catch your breath without it being too obvious that you had been almost running around for him.

As he called out your name, you couldn't help the smile that lit up your face.

"You're good?"

"I am now, thanks. Been searching for you, you know? You're quite hard to find," you told him in complete honesty with a light laugh.

"Really?" Logan was surprised by your words. He hadn't expected anyone to come talk to him today, except for his teammate Alex or a couple drivers texting him for a check up.

"Yeah," you nodded. "I couldn't see you after practice earlier and I thought talking to you face to face was better than a text so yes, I was looking for you."

If you and Logan weren't surrounded by hundreds of people, he would definitely shed a tear at your kindness - not like anyone was actually paying attention to the both of you as you were on the side of the path. He didn't think a headline consisting of F1 Driver Logan Sargeant seen crying while talking with F1 Driver George Russel's long-time friend was a good idea though.

"And you wanted to talk to me about something important?" He wondered.

"That's what I said", you replied. "I wanted to talk to you, about you, I guess."

"That's not super-"

"It is," you immediately interrupted him before he could finish his sentence. You knew what he was about to say and you were definitely not letting him give voice to his thoughts. Seeing as he was still taken aback by your words, you kept going. "You're important, Logan. More than a random chassis, or an engine, or whatever they put in the shit car that they make you drive."

Hearing your own sentence, you were about to apologise for the strong opinion - Logan was driving said car so you didn't know if you were right to comment on it - but the chuckle that came from the American stopped you from doing so. It didn't last long as Logan quickly covered his mouth, thus shutting down the sound, but you suddenly wished you could hear it again.

And not because you're trash talking his team, but because you're, let's say, watching a movie together and a funny scene comes up; or because you're walking around a park and he laughs at your clumsiness when you almost trip on a random rock.

You just wished, right now, that you weren't at the track, in this paddock, with all those cars and people around. You just wanted to be with him, in a quiet place where you could just enjoy each other's presence without having to worry about a team principal that didn't take his driver's needs into account or about journalists that couldn't seem to see the human aspect of a driver behind the suit and helmet.

Your thoughts were however soon interrupted when a hand appeared in front of your face.

"Hello? Earth to whatever planet you're on?" Logan had a smile on his face. He wasn't laughing anymore but he didn't seem annoyed either at your silence. "Did you get lost in your mind?"

"Possibly", you answered with a nervous laugh. "Sorry, won't happen again."

"It's fine, don't worry."

You could see Logan was genuine in his eyes. The way they were being lit up by the sun suddenly made you wonder about what was hidden behind it. They often say that eyes are the mirror of the soul; but for now, you could only see yourself in Logan's.

"Hey Logan," you said after a few seconds of silence. He glanced down at you, which you took as a sign to continue. "Do you wanna hang out with me tonight? I- hmm I have this dinner with George, Lando, Alex, and their girls. And it could be nice of you to join. I mean, if you want to of course, and if you don't have anything planned already but yeah, that'd be cool. I'd like that."

When Logan didn't reply, you started to think that it was over and that your stress was so obvious, and that he wasn't going to accept the offer. But then:

"I'd love to." Your gaze was now filled with hope, until the next words left Logan's mouth. "But I think I need to be alone tonight. It's absolutely not against you or the others, but today hasn't been the best day for me as you obviously know and even though it could lighten up my mood, I'd rather focus on tomorrow's race."

"Oh, hmm... okay, yeah... I totally get it, no problem."

Logan was not dumb; he noticed your immediate change of attitude as you lowered your gaze, so he decided to add on to his explanation:

"It's just a raincheck, you know? I'm not going out tonight, but I'd absolutely be down for another day if we both find the time. Sounds good?"

"Yeah!" You nodded with a smile. "Raincheck, okay, got it."

"Sorry to cut this short, but I gotta go for now." Logan gave you a smile before checking his phone. "I'll get back to you for a hang out, but thanks for taking the time to talk with me. I truly appreciate it."

"It's normal, we're friends so... I wasn't really thinking twice about it."

"Then thank you for that as well. We'll see each other later, right?"

"Of course," you confirmed. "Race's tomorrow so at least then, goodbye for now Logan."

"Bye, take care."

He gave you a quick hug before departing, and next thing you knew, he was gone. You then turned around, ready to exit the paddock and go back to your hotel, so that you could get ready for your dinner tonight with your friends.

.....

"George, hey!" You called out to him as you saw him from afar. "Thanks for waiting, sorry I'm a little late."

"No problem," he replied. "I sent Alex and the girls inside to keep us a table. We're just missing Lando, but I think he'll be here soon."

As if on cue, you had received a text. Thinking it was from the curly haired man, you opened it in front of George before reading the sender and the content of the message.

Hi! Regarding our conversation from earlier, I decided to formally ask if you wanted to grab dinner with me tomorrow night after the race?

A smile unknowingly took place on your face, and George couldn't help but notice it.

"What's got you all happy?" He asked before adding a comment. "You're even blushing so I guess this is not Lando."

"It's no one," you said as you immediately locked your phone before George could look at the screen. "Just a friend I'm supposed to catch up with tomorrow."

"You have friends other than us in the Netherlands right now?" A familiar voice questioned from behind you.

"Lando!" George exclaimed as the last of your group was finally here. "Hey mate. Congrats on pole. Good quali you did there."

"Thanks man." Lando glanced at you while the three of you started walking inside the hotel, towards the restaurant. "So what's this about a friend of yours?"

"Drop it Lando," you replied, annoyed - although you could truly never be annoyed with him. "I'll tell you all about it when it's over if you still wanna know after the weekend."

"Of course I will! I'll even bring that up in the groupchat so you'll have to tell this wonderful and absolutely not suspicious story to everyone," Lando laughed as he nudged your side.

Thankfully, neither George nor Lando had brought up the topic with the others, even though they were still curious on what you were hiding. You were glad that they didn't because how could you even explain to them that you would be going out to dinner with a fellow driver? You honestly didn't think they would mind, but you also didn't want them to go and bother said driver when you knew that the paddock's walls had ears everywhere.

Hoping that it would be fine to reply to the text later, you had therefore waited until you were back in your hotel room to agree to the offer. Tonight's dinner had been amazing and you were always happy to spend time with your friends whom you didn't see much, but tomorrow's would be something even more special as it would actually be your first time hanging out one on one with the driver you were maybe fancying.

Before forgetting, you also decided to notify your friends of your plans - omitting the driver aspect of the 'friend' you would be seeing after the race - so that they wouldn't be surprised to not see you attend any celebration. Of course you would try and spend some time with the winner if he was part of your friend group, but at least you were in the clear to not go party all night with them.

.....

And you had never once regretted not attending the party that had celebrated Lando's win at the Dutch Grand Prix. He had told you that day after the race that you would have a myriad of other chances to attend another one as he was planning on winning more and more often - which he did.

Tonight's party, however, would be in your honour. As well as Logan's. And you couldn't see yourself anywhere else than here, in front of him. You truly didn't think you would one day end up in this situation, and neither did he. Logan hadn't really expected to experience such an event in his life, but he eventually did, all thanks to you.

You had saved his life. That day, when you reached out to him after qualifying, was unknowingly a turning point in his life. He had been at his lowest. He had known what would certainly happen following the Grand Prix; he had been expecting to be let go after the disastrous performances he was giving.

Knowing didn't make it less painful though.

He did get dropped by his team, Williams, which you cursed for as long as you could and still did from time to time. And even if Logan had achieved being a Formula One driver - which no one could ever take away from him, he had still felt like he was worthless after it happened.

He hadn't known how to process the sudden end of his short time on the grid and felt lost for a while, wondering about what would define him as a person now that the dream he'd had since he was a child was over.

But you had made him believe that it wasn't the end of the world and that something else was waiting for him. He could've ended it all, but you showed him a glimmer of hope and he chose to keep going, see what else was in store for him. He still had a future. And he had been right to trust you, as he was now here, facing you and about to be making you his. Only two words left to say before doing so.

'Thank you', he mouthed to you before the long-awaited sentence was to be heard out loud. "I do", he then confirmed without tearing his gaze away from your face.

..........

Okayyyy so this it lol

Hope y'all liked it🫶🏻 this was my 1st time ever writing for a driver since i got into motorsports and I feel really happy w it!! Thanks to my brain for making me dream ab logan, i think it kinda helps me cope regarding him not being the grid anymore (i miss him sm chat)

Idk when I'll write again for a driver if i ever do so, but don't hesitate to give feedback on this so that ik how to approach a future work🤍

[babydollmarauders]

MEDIA MANAGEMENT — JACK HUGHES (23-24 SZN PART 12)

au masterlist

notes: short, but i’m tired and have a migraine so i apologize

y/ndevils00

liked by dawson1417, ehaula, and 273,528 others

y/ndevils00 HAPPY 1989 (TAYLOR’S VERSION) DAY!!! I HOPE YOU’RE ALL STREAMING IT AND LOVING THE VAULT TRACKS AS MUCH AS I AM!!!

AND MORE IMPORTANTLY, AN INSANELY HAPPY 22ND BIRTHDAY TO MY VERY BESTEST FRIEND IN THE ENTIRE WORLD, MY PUPPY, MY SWEETHEART, MY BESTIE NUMBER 1, DAWSON! YOU’RE TAYLOR SWIFT AGE NOW!!

oh yeah, and happy Devils game day too, i guess.

lucifer’s favorite children won 5-4 against the water buffalo’s tonight!

we got 2 great goals in the first period from Holtzy (not pictured because he’s being punished for his comments on tuesday) and my sweet swedish fish, Jesper! they served tonight!

and in second period we got the first out of two goals from Haula hoop! his second goal coming in the third period! my favorite uncle also almost got a hatty, but his stick broke :( criminal! it’s okay, he got the hatty in my eyes AND in my heart, and that’s the only hatty that matters! 🫶

and finally, before we got to holla for Haula-back girl’s second, we got a goal from my amazing, one-of-a-kind, brilliantly spectacular, so babygirl, the guy who stayed up until 2am on a game night and spun me around the house while we listened to 1989 (TV), everyone’s favorite, JACKY!!! this goal brought him up to 18 points in 7 games, which is 9 less games than it took him last season! i’m so proud of you, babygirl! you’re a star and you’re shining your light!

p.s. connor clifton, i am under your bed. seriously, i know where you live.

tagged dawson1417, jackhughes, john.marino97, jesperbratt, and ehaula

Load more comments

jackhughes i love you, my beautiful girl ♥️ thank you for your praise and for being my biggest fan

y/ndevils00 oh? i love you too, sweet boy

jackhughes okay, good, now that that’s done, STOP THREATENING PEOPLE

y/ndevils00 YOU TRICKED ME INTO A FALSE SENSE OF SECURITY!

jackhughes i had to! you don’t listen to me!

y/ndevils00 :(

jackhughes yeah, i’m not nico, that doesn’t work on me

y/ndevils00 RATS!

ehaula i would like to get a real hatty

y/ndevils00 no! you get the hatty in my heart and you appreciate it!

ehaula i don’t wanna

y/ndevils00 you’re an ungrateful uncle

ehaula and you’re a bossy niece

y/ndevils00 I AM NOT! @/kristen.haula AUNT KRISTEN, TELL HIM I’M NOT!

kristen.haula she’s not!

ehaula i rest my case

user19 the last jack picture 🥹

y/ndevils00 that was the product of me yelling “SMILE FOR THE PICTURE, BABYGIRL!”

jackhughes i thought the picture would come out better

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes i can’t help it, your smile makes me shaky

jesperbratt i got a goal and i served!

y/ndevils00 you got a GREAT goal! i wanna carry you around with me everywhere, do you think nicole would allow it?

jesperbratt i’ll ask!

jesperbratt she says split custody, you can only have weekends

y/ndevils00 hmm i’ll agree to those terms

dawson1417 ITS MY DAY OF BIRTH! THANK YOU, BESTIE NUMBER 3!!

y/ndevils00 DID YOU LIKE YOUR CAKE OF YOUR FACE?!

dawson1417 I LOVED IT!! IT LOOKED JUST LIKE ME!

y/ndevils00 I KNEW IT! I KNEW I DID GOOD!

john.marino97 that cake looked nothing like you?

dawson1417 @/john.marino97 shhh be nice!

john.marino97 i mean, that cake looked just like you! y/n should go into art!

john.marino97 okay, say it, i’m mentally prepared, i can take it

y/ndevils00 you did so well! i’m proud of you and your assist!

john.marino97 wait what?

john.marino97 that’s not what i was expecting

y/ndevils00 i’m feeling nice, don’t push it!

john.marino97 if you’ll excuse me, i have a quick call to make

y/ndevils00 to who?

y/ndevils00 MARINARA, WHY AM I GETTING A CALL FROM *HIM*

john.marino97 i may have pre-tattled

nicohischier i’ll be fine, y/n. no need to threaten!

y/ndevils00 THAT WAS A DIRTY HIT?? ALL THE NEED TO THREATEN!

nicohischier i appreciate that you care for me and my wellbeing, but i’ll be okay

y/ndevils00 but he hurt my slut :( you’re being targeted

nicohischier i’m tough, i can take it

y/ndevils00 no, you aren’t! you cried at finding nemo! i need to wrap you in bubble wrap!

nicohischier HE COULDN’T FIND HIS DAD

user84 so what were john and dawson talking about?

y/ndevils00 HOW MUCH FUN WE’RE GONNA HAVE AT OUR ‘BEST FRIEND NUMBER 1 BIRTHDAY SLUMBER PARTY’!

john.marino97 game plays

dawson1417 candy!

user27 the world may never know

lhughes_06 i can’t believe you laid on the floor for the first picture

y/ndevils00 i think i have gum on my dress

y/ndevils00 at least i hope it’s gum

lhughes_06 burn that dress. just burn it.

y/ndevils00 but i love this dress :(

lhughes_06 jack will get you a new one

y/ndevils00 okay!

jackhughes wait what?

[nausikaaa]

Six Sentence Sunday Monday

thanks for tagging me @youarenevertooold @confused-bi-queer @orange-peony @prettygoododds @that-disabled-princess @thewholelemon @artsyunderstudy @bookish-bogwitch @ileadacharmedlife @run-for-chamo-miles @roomwithanopenfire and @j-nipper-95. phew, that's a lot of people!

okay, yes, it's technically tuesday, but i wanted to share and didn't get time to write anything yesterday, but sat down and got out 1600 words tonight, yay!

here's a new POV for my wip, Helenus. ramble under the cut about him because he's very overlooked in most media avoid the Trojan war, and i am incapable of shutting the hell up about my interests once i get going.

but i'll pop the six sentences here for convenience's sake. they're from a flashback to when Astyanax, the main character, was born.

Astyanax came into the world just as the day’s fighting wound to a close, and apparently Andromache pushed aside the midwives and even my mother, and insisted on getting up and taking their son to meet his father, fresh off the battlefield, herself. I saw her shuffle to the gates as they opened, clutching the tiny baby to her chest, half dressed and looking exhausted, but glowing with joy nonetheless. I turned away as Hector cried out and rushed to embrace them both. All the soldiers cheered at the sight, their morale momentarily buoyed by the arrival of the little prince.

Hector actually named him Scamandrius, but all the people swiftly took to calling him Astyanax, lord of the city. They saw him as a symbol of the future, and placed all their hopes in him.

so for those who don't know, and there's no shame in that because it would appear most fans of the Iliad somehow don't, even though he's in the damn thing, Helenus was the twin brother of Cassandra, the Trojan princess and prophetess who was cursed by Apollo to see the future but never be believed after she rejected his advances. as well as being a competent soldier, Helenus was a priest of Apollo who also had the gift of prophecy, but not the curse. sources disagree on whether Cassandra taught him, or if Apollo gave him the gift, but if it was the latter, that begs the question: did Apollo make Helenus the same offer he made Cassandra? and did he accept it?

that's something i explore in depth, relationships with gods are rarely simple or healthy. Apollo has a bit of a micromanagement problem, and once he starts to grow bored with Helenus, his idea of a reward for all his years of dedication is to manipulate him into setting himself up for Apollo's idea of his perfect life, with no regard for the people his plan hurts along the way or Helenus's own wants.

and so, by the end of the story, he is actually married to both Andromache, his brother Hector's widow, and Deidamia, Achilles's widow, and rules over Epirus, a city in the far north of Greece. how does he feel about this, the destruction of his family and home, and death of his foster son Pyrrhus, that led him there? Apollo doesn't think to ask. he declares his work done and promptly loses interest, and Helenus just has to try his best to make it work, doing right by his wives and turning Epirus into a second Troy.

i love the way it's put by Aeneas in Virgil, "you have before your eyes an image of the river Xanthus and a Troy made by your own hands, more fortunate, I pray, than the Troy that was... We shall in some future age unite our cities and the people of Hesperia and Epirus, for we are kith and kin, the same Dardanus is our founder and the same destiny attends us. We shall make them both one Troy in spirit." Hesperia is that probably insignificant little place which would eventually come to be known as Rome. don't worry about it. they'll totally be friends. Rome definitely won't wreck Epirus in the Pyrrhic War in a thousand years or so.

also, fun fact, Alexander the Great's mother Olympias was from Epirus, and claimed to be descended from Andromache, Helen of Troy, and either Achilles or Helenus, depending on the source. sure, Olympias.

oh, and tags, i guess for wednesday at this rate! i hope you all have a lovely rest the week! @forabeatofadrum @artsyunderstudy @hushed-chorus @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @cutestkilla @alexalexinii @martsonmars @meanjeansjeans @harrie-leithillustration @spoonerwrites @ic3-que3n @larkral @blackberrysummerblog @shrekgogurt @comesitintheclover @raenestee @noblecorgi @shemakesmeforget @ileadacharmedlife @supercutedinosaurs @carryonmylovelies @otherpeoplesheartachept-2 @otherworldsivelivedin and @jasonfunderberkerthefrogexists

[iantimony]

twoweeker tuesday: redux

im really making a trend of two-weekin these huh. gonna try to Not do that bc it makes me way less likely to actually do it lol. speed-posting this before bed (and before the melatonin kicks my ass, i'm trying to reset my sleep sched a bit)

listening: hozier unreal unearth. sammy rae & the friends. leaving this pretty sparse because i don't want to dig back through my history for the past two weeks and that's definitely the bulk of it. some notes from the Release Radar(tm) that i like: good luck, babe! - chappell roan bell - rob blivion waiting. - pater ...all (feat jake clemons, live) - grouplove i had not my hat - tom rosenthal april 8, 2024: the great north american eclipse - sleeping at last (!!!) too sweet - hozier flea - st vincent lil' freak - bbno$

reading: finished the main bit of scum villain! i'm reading the extras now. officially read all three mxtx books

watching: FINISHED SERIAL EXPERIMENTS LAIN. i have so many thoughts. i was in delta-orionis' dms about it a bit but my ass has so many Notes. many thoughts. gnosticism mostly but also the obvious tech-as-extension-of-self throughline. idk it was a very weird show and i definitely need to re-watch it to let it sink in a little more.

playing: no games but a lot of horn! i have an audition tomorrow for the fall's campus ensembles, i am...not super confident about it tbh, unsurprisingly i am not back to where i was pre-pandemic so my upper range and endurance is still really crunchy.

making: i keep forgetting to charge my phone before pottery so it keeps. dying. so i made quite a few new things the past few weeks but no photos of those - i did Crack the Code a bit, so now i can more reliably get things shaped in a conscious way. basically i was sitting too far forward so when i was pulling the walls up i was actually doing it at an angle, if i sit with my nose over the center of the pot it's all *chef kiss* beautiful. anyways here's a few glaze related pics. a lot of disappointment unfortunately.

1. my fucked up teacups. god im so mad about these. they were supposed to be a cool grey-green with a white flower, and matte. it is None Of These Things. idk will get redone. big mad.

2. bowl and mug that both got bubbles because i misread the glaze labels - they're both mayco glazes that are optimized for cone 05, not cone 5, so the both the color is not as good as i thought and also the surface variation is. not great. the bowl is acceptable, it's mirror blue, it went through the kiln again and the bubbles evened out (pic is from before), and plus it's on the outside - i just put plain white on the inside - so it's fine. the mug is a little more problematic. it was green slip sgraffito with evergreen fir over top, and i really love the color effect, but there's some small bubbles along the rim...this glaze was marked as food safe in a way that the mirror blue is Not so i thought it would be fine but. well. i'm hoping nuking it in the kiln again will smooth those out.

3. One Good Thing: trying a new glaze technique! someone in my studio does this gorgeous thing where she paints on flowers with underglaze, then covers them with liquid latex to paint on the background, and finally peels off the latex. it always comes out sooo nice, so when i ordered some more underglaze i went ahead and added liquid latex to cart too :3 this is just the flowers, i will be adding the background tomorrow!

eating: uhhh good cauliflower vegetarian shawarma thing that i refused to make unless we added a can of chickpeas because where in the fuck is the protein. tonight was a miso-butter chicken with radishes that we added potatoes and onions to. both sheetpan recipes so im def a fan of those now.

misc: ouuuugh. augh. oughghghg. i need to be done with homework forever please god. i have like...7? 8? total hws left between my two classes. and then i am Done With Classes. mentally gearing up to do my preliminaries at the end of the summer. not to doxx myself but ouch. basketball yesterday. Pain. the eclipse yesterday WAS unreal. oh my god. i drove to [redacted] very small town about 40 minutes from me and it was perfect. so glad i avoided the Big City, although that's where my roommate and her mom went and apparently the traffic was fine, but i'm definitely glad to have been in a less crowded zone. i get it now. i want to take that feeling i had watching totality and eat it and keep it with me forever. i was with friends. the weather was perfect. it was beautiful.

[the59er]

13 Jan 2025

13th January 2025, Monday Listening: Wake Up, Arcade Fire

Work went by fast because we were so busy, even my boss didn't have time to check on my deck that I (last minute) prepared until 430am last night. Yes, I only had 2 hours of sleep, this has got to stop this year 😵‍💫

Lunk was mamak which I did not finish despite it being tasty because he gave me wayyy too much,

--

14 Jan 2025

14th January 2025, Tuesday Listening: I Want to Hold Your Hand, TV Carpio

I started purging since 3am last night, it was insane!! I could only fell asleep after 6am. Texted my boss at 4am to skip work.

At 10am finally got the energy to get out of bed and thankfully Dad was in so I made him drive me to the clinic. AND THE CLINIC TOOK FOREVER.

I just slept whole day and did not open my work laptop at all which was probably the first time for me. Damn you food poisoning!! I narrowed it down and I highly believe it was caused by this drink from 7-Eleven;

NEVER AGAIN!

--

15 Jan 2025

15th January 2025, Wednesday Listening: I Still Think of You, hafner

Food poisoning day 2. Felt a bit better but still nauseated hence had to call in sick again which annoyed my boss (I could tell based on his text reply to me) but hey, I don't live just to work, okay?

Tried to swallow bubur but it went back out. Had to log in for work towards the end of the day anyway. Sigh..

- -

16 Jan 2025

16th January 2025, Thursday - Happy birthday to Kate Moss 💅🏻 Listening: Everybody Talks, Neon Trees

My morning was spent on a call over my 2 days of absence 💆🏻‍♀️ After Zohor I left to the office to continue work & YY was in too so I got company. They visited Nat yesterday at Pantai, I hope Nat gets a speedy recovery.

After work went to 21’s, maghrib-ed at kwasa before ending up in OU because I wanted boat noods & also wanted to check if cinnabon’s open (it hasn’t). Unfortunately I still feel nauseated from my stomach bug so post-dins was a cranky one :(

--

17 Jan 2025

17th January 2025, Friday Listening: Lovely Island Girl, The Coconut Islanders

Late to the very first meeting with Nels because of my still upset stomach 😩

Ive been so hungry but so scared to eat but I succumbed to buying cookies via Grab which costed me rm50 😔 I hate it when temptation won, it makes me feel weak. Be better, self! But I bought an extra cookie to bring to Gege’s!

For tonight's Friday dins, we went back to Khatija after a string of "fancier" places lol. Since my stomach is STILL acting up, I ordered bihun soup but it was spicy 🌶️ Thankfully managed to control my system I until we reached home..

Oh yeah somebody finally bought my stupid T-Mart coach jacket! Thank God & good riddance!

Also, happy Severance day!

--

18 Jan 2025

18th January 2025, Saturday Listening: Sleeping In, The Radio Dept.

Mom accompanied Dad to kebun again today so Ive got the house to myself. Started the morning with laundry as usual, packed up the Carousell parcel and left to J&T before tapao-ing lunk at the drive-thru. Another load of laundry before finally sitting down for lunk while watching Hannah Ricketts 😬 Vacuumed downstairs, cleaned the standing fans, and my initial plan was to continue with the cleaning but I got frustrated after failing to close the grill cover of one the standing fans, it took me 15 minutes of tries until I eventually gave up on everything! Wanted to take a nap before going out to get the car washed but I ended up recording a video of the dunks that Gege surprised me with last week! 😄🎁. It was raining anyway so had to wait awhile until it stopped before finally getting the car washed, petrol filled and ready for tomorrow's drive!

2121's out on a footie match tonight so I spent it "editing" the video I filmed in the afternoon and now it's up! 😄

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19 Jan 2025

19th January 2025, Sunday Listening: Out on the Road, Norah Jones

Driving the folks to Perak today! I LOVE driving. I honestly prefer to drive than be driven. Im definitely NOT a passenger princess 😅

I love seeing my Dad happy to meet up with his cousins. He is actually quite close with everyone! Stopped by sg buloh jejantas before home because Mom wanted satay. She is the cutest ❤️

Despite my 2 days of food poisoning, my 3rd week of the year was great!

[nickgerlich]

To The Max

When was the last time you watched something on linear TV? In case you’re wondering what I’m talking about, linear TV is programming that is scheduled for specific times, like NCIS on CBS tonight at 8pm. It’s how people of my age had to watch TV, because we had no choice when I was young, and if you really liked a show, you just made sure you did not make any other plans, or else you would miss it.

To answer the question, my last time was August a year ago, and only because I was completely sucked in to the last season of Better Call Saul. New episodes aired at 9pm on Mondays on AMC, and I wanted to be in the moment, as well as not have to worry about spoilers being posted to social media fan pages.

By definition, linear television is traditional broadcast TV, and includes cable, satellite, and over-the air. Today, for the first time ever, linear TV has dipped below 50% of all television content consumed.

So what happened? Well, we have to go back to the 1980s when we had programmable VCRs that allowed us to record our show, and effectively time-shift when we viewed them. These were followed by DVRs. And now we have cloud storage and streaming content, fueled by an explosion in cord-cutting by households. Being anchored to a TV at set times is now just a quaint, fading preoccupation.

All these things taken together mean it is incumbent upon all media outlets to find their way into streaming, because this is the future. Actually, the future is now. And CNN is very much aware of this, this last week announcing a partnership with Max (formerly known as HBO Max). The new service will be a combination of older content along with live shows, amid the many varied movies and TV shows already in the Max catalog.

The move comes a year after the news giant launched and then abruptly shuttered its standalone CNN+ network, which could not find traction. I get it. At a time when households are facing streaming saturation (I have nine, if I remember correctly), it makes perfectly good sense for CNN to piggyback on someone else that already has an established presence. CNN can then reach more people with the same ads we would see if we were viewing its news content on cable or satellite.

I expect to see more partnerships as well as consolidations like this in the future, because the space is becoming crowded. Never mind the fact that we still only have 24 hours in the day, and we can’t watch movies and show endlessly. Well, maybe if we get a blizzard this winter I might, but otherwise, I have a job to go to, groceries to buy, miles to walk and bike.

At this point, you might be wondering, “Why is CNN pushing linear television in a non-linear arena?” Excellent question, because it is somewhat of a hybrid. And when Hulu releases new episodes of Only Murders In The Building on Tuesdays, and Max dropped new episodes of The Righteous Gemstones on Sundays at 9pm, you have a mash-up of old and new. Sure, we can watch them whenever we want, but they have stirred in a degree of linearity.

The bottom line, though, is that consumers have spoken, and we want to be in control of our viewing. We want to watch our desired content whenever we want to. I might also add the “where" aspect as well, because when I travel, I always have an HDMI cable with me to hook into the hotel TV. Portability is a big part of the equation now. All we need is a strong wifi or cellular signal.

Things sure are a lot different from when I grew up, when we had an aerial antenna on our roof, and a limited number of stations. Back then, everyone had extreme cases of FOMO, because you had one shot to watch something. Today, the only FOMO going around is when you don’t have a particular streaming service.

And that’s the kind of news that CNN is definitely listening to.

Dr “I’ll Be Watching” Gerlich

Audio Blog

[myevilmouse]

My editor was a retired philosophy prof, which meant that his corrections were often long, lyrical, but eventually arrived on point. One of his favourite admonishments was “there can only be one first time, so make it count!” This meant that instead of opening the scene with bondage, why not show them lovingly picking out the silk shirt, holding it close to their body…and then ripping it to shreds to make the bindings. There can only be one first time.

Unless, of course, you writing fan fic!

Mouse, you have written no less than 10 *first time encounters* for your Thryce characters (gleefully visualizing my editor pulling his hair out) Often, the fics take place in a very close time frame, but other encounters maybe a decade or more apart. Every encounter is written as fresh & exciting as if it were the first time! This technique is new and exciting to me, because I was never allowed this option. I have a few questions for you, if I may.

1. What inspired you, initially, to revisit a first encounter?

2. Do you have to clear your mind of all past couplings with purpose, or does each fresh new experience come (pun intended) naturally/easily

3. Do you maintain the first time passion/excitement for your characters on the 10th time as you did the first? (Hint: I do when I read your fics. I madly love throwing the rules out the window)

As always: thank you for lending me your brain for a few 😊

I am very appreciative of your ask tonight, as my fic muse is feeling lazy, and I’m just needing distraction, and this is absolutely a delightful bunch of asks @beebee-76!

Your editor sounds like a wise man, but obviously, as you point out, he wasn’t talking about the stalwart “two cakes” principle we enjoy in fanfic, or in my case, more like 10 💙

As a Thryce reader, you have lots of my Thryce “first times” to choose from, but my deprived Luke/Mara readers tend to have fewer options—my inclination is always to write them as an established couple for some reason.  I once got an ask about some of my fics taking place in the same AU for Luke/Mara and I used it as a springboard to discuss a Thryce timeline as well, so you may find it amusing reading, if you like, here (Thryce in the second half of the post):

So that ties in to your questions.  Here we go! *rubs hands gleefully*

1. What inspired you, initially, to revisit a first encounter?

I started writing Thryce after being encouraged by other writers on the Thryce Discord.  The first fic I ever wrote was Unity for our canoe of a ship, and my PLAN had been to make it a “first time” fic, but instead it wound up being UST and UST and more UST.  I failed to hook up the ship in my very first outing!  It was G rated!!! Muwahahah Still like the fic though. 

So of course I needed to remedy that…but my plans were far from romantic.  I intended to write something twisty…which wound up being the first “first time” fic I wrote for Thrawn and Pryce:  Deal With You.  Ever since Thrawn’s threat to Pryce in Rebels post-fuel depot explosion, I thought the moment was so ripe for a nonconnish/dubconnish follow up punishment.  I set out to write that and failed, because both parties were too damn willing.  So that was a rather bizarre first time, not quite romantic and not quite the dubcon I had planned.

So to retaliate against my uncooperative pervy muse, I decided to write something unashamedly fluffy and sweet for "Friday Fluff," a completely different dynamic from Deal With You, and that became The Annual Stormtrooper Relief Fund Ball.  It was the first “revisit” of Thryce’s “how they got together” story, and also written in a few hours, short and sweet.

2. Do you have to clear your mind of all past couplings with purpose, or does each fresh new experience come (pun intended) naturally/easily

This is a fascinating question, and the answer is it comes naturally/easily.  I don’t even consider anything I’ve written before when I do a new “first time” fic, although sometimes I put in Easter Eggs from older fics into new fics when I see opportunities to do so… And each time is, not to sound too silly, just like the first time 😁

3. Do you maintain the first time passion/excitement for your characters on the 10th time as you did the first? (Hint: I do when I read your fics. I madly love throwing the rules out the window)

Thank you for the lovely praise for my stories, and YES I do!  I have so much fun writing fic, writing romance, writing smut, and writing Thrawn and Pryce hook up for the first time over and over and over is always fun and rewarding.  Sometimes it’s more hard won than others, but I would be hard pressed to say which “first time” was my favorite.  Each time is different, with shifting dynamics, timelines, situations and scenarios, so it’s wonderful to hear that you maintain your enthusiasm for the start of their romance just as I do! It's always fresh to see how they will get in their own way (or out of it, as the case may be) on the road to happiness/smutville. I do enjoy those two, my evil OTP.

Thank you so much again for the ask tonight! I offer you this custom-made gif as a token of appreciation and gratitude!

[bruhstories]

Baby, I’ve Already got Your Heart

Summary: An accidental meeting between Armin and Y/N leads to an unhealthy obsession. Pairing: Armin Arlert x Fem!Reader (modern AU) Warnings: stalking, language, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, fingering, oral sex (male receiving), oral sex (female receiving), switch!Reader, switch!Armin, rope is involved. Word Count: 2.5 k

A/N: This fic is heavily inspired by this song. It is surprisingly wholesome, considering the tags xD

Armin Arlert. The purest man in the world. You accidentally met him one cold, rainy day when he entered your coffee shop for shelter and warmth. He naively talked to you, grateful for how nice you were with him, grateful for the cappuccino on the house, grateful for the towel you offered him to dry himself off. Little did Armin know, a fixation sprouted in your mind and heart, developing into the unhealthiest obsession. He was just so cute — and you just had to have him. It helped to know that you were both going to the same university, and after that, you knew everything about him: his Facebook, Instagram, email address, hell, you even knew his real address. To be fair, it was a piece of cake, the boy was absolutely clueless and whenever he 'accidentally' met you, he thought it was by pure chance. The next and most obvious step was to befriend people in his social circle, one Jean Kirstein, one Sasha Braus and one Connie Springer. Naturally, you did your homework, and you knew his best friends were Eren Jaeger and Mikasa Ackerman, but they weren't easy targets. Besides, it would jeopardise your entire plan, as you found Armin was considered a genius. An oblivious genius. He didn't know it yet, but you loved him and he loved you too, right?

A text from Sasha, months after you first met the angelic man, set your plan in motion. A casual gaming night at Armin's place, and you were invited. How perfect. Poor glutton Sasha had no fucking clue how much you were using her, how you told her you want to meet a cute guy, someone nice and caring, someone smart and attentive. The girl put two and two together and decided she just had to introduce you to one of her friends, especially that he was also interested in meeting a girl like you. Unbelievable — you acted surprised, met up with Sasha and left for Armin's little gaming night. You wouldn't let this opportunity go to waste. Starting from tonight, he'd be yours. Forever.

"Armiiiiiiiiin, I brought a plus one!" Sasha barged into his house. "This is my friend, Y/N. Y/N, Armin! Oh shit, pretzels!" The brown-haired woman left the two of you in the hallway and the blond flashed you a smile.

"I feel like I've seen you before." He mused as he closed the door behind you.

"If you ever drink coffee at Rose's you might've seen me there." You smiled and removed your leather jacket, revealing a Pearl Jam t-shirt.

"No way you listen to them!" Armin blurted.

"Are you kidding me? They're my favourite!" You lied through your teeth with a sickly-sweet smile.

"Mine too! Oh, I know, you're the girl who gave me a free cappuccino months ago!"

"I remember! You were drenched in rainwater." You laughed as the two of you entered the living room. "I had to mop up the puddles you left behind."

"I'm so sorry about that..." He blushed. Your heart fluttered and you couldn't wait to get your hands on him, but for the time being, you needed to behave.

"No worries, I just hope you didn't catch a cold." You assured Armin and sympathetically placed a hand on his shoulder. There he goes, blushing again. It couldn't be... was he a virgin? Fuck. This was better than you could've imagined.

"Who's this?"

"Oh, Mikasa, Eren, this is Y/N. She's friends with Sasha."

"Nice to meet you!" Eren shook your hand. "Oh, God, you listen to Pearl Jam, too? You nerds are going to get along just fine." He joked.

The night went great, and you actually had fun with Armin and his friends, despite not intending to mingle with them too much. People started leaving around 2 am, but Eren and Mikasa stayed longer. Too fucking long — and things were boring now anyway. You and Armin kept talking about video games and books, Mikasa fell asleep on Eren who was playing fucking Farmville on his phone. They had to leave as soon as possible.

"Hey, Y/N, we can take you home." Eren suggested and you froze. Shit.

"Didn't you say you're almost out of gas?" Armin questioned his friend.

"Ah, fuck, you're right. I still don't know how that happened — I fuelled the tank yesterday!" The brunette scoffed. "Guess you're on your own, Y/N."

"It's alright, I'll take an uber." You politely smiled.

"Alright, we'll wait for you."

Oh, for fuck's sake. Truth be told, you appreciated how nice and caring Armin's friends were, but you had a different goal to accomplish.

"You really don't have to, plus I have to use the bathroom." You excused yourself. "Um, where is the bathroom exactly?"

"Upstairs, first door on the right." Armin told you while gathering plates and cups from the table. You nodded and climbed up the stairs. Your hand hovered over the bathroom doorknob for a good minute, eyes drifting to the door next to it. Armin's bedroom, by the looks of it. Surely, you could take a look, right? Fuck it. You opened the second door and at first glance, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. LED and fairy lights encircled a corner of his room and, curiously, you walked closer to see what that was, because it didn't look like a desk. Your Y/E/C widened when you saw tens of framed photographs of yourself on the square table, objects you thought you lost and — Jesus, was that your bra? A rush of anxiety hit you, but before you could do anything, a blow to your head blurred your vision.

•°☆°•☆•°☆°•

Dark lashes fluttered as you opened your eyes. The sudden realisation that you were naked and restrained to a bed made you jolt. What just happened?

"Fucking finally, I thought you'd never wake up." Armin greeted you, but his voice was different, deeper and darker.

"Ar-ugh, Armin?" You groaned at the stinging sensation at the back of your head.

"You know, I was relieved you didn't leave with Sasha, otherwise you would've slipped between my fingers again."

Again?

"Ugh, and Eren and his stupid idea. 'We'll take you home.'" He mocked his best friend with a high pitch. "I've been dreaming for this moment since I walked into that shitty coffee shop."

You were at a loss for words. This was not the Armin you fantasised about, not the Armin you wanted. He was much more and much worse. And. So. Much. Better.

Alright then, you'd put up a show for him.

"P-please, Armin, please untie m-me! I'll be good, I p-promise!" You stuttered and whimpered, trying your best to sound genuine.

"Why, so you can run away?" The blond scoffed. So, he didn't know you stalked him. What a twist.

"I won't r-run, I swear!"

"Bullshit." Armin bent over your body, hands around your neck. You gasped and pretended to be startled by his touch, but in reality, your core was already burning with lust. You knew you couldn't keep up with this charade. "No, Y/N, I won't untie you. But we'll have so much fun." He sneered.

"You promise?"

"Yes. Wait—"

Your laughter filled the bedroom, genuine laughter that baffled Armin. Was this some sort of reverse psychology trick?

"Oh, Armin, even when you reveal your true colours, you're still oblivious to the reality of what's in front of you."

"Then enlighten me, what am I so oblivious to?" He folded his arms across his chest and waited.

"The fact that this was my fucking plan, too." You stretched as much as your restraints allowed you to and licked your lips. "I guess we both stalked each other without even knowing. How ridiculous."

"I think I would've known if you stalked me, Y/N."

"Really? Let me prove it, then. Your favourite food's Carbonara pasta, your favourite drink is peach and lychee iced tea, favourite movie is Interstellar, you lived on Sheena street until you were 12–"

"That's common knowledge, Sasha could've told you any of that." Armin blurted, growing impatient.

"You watch BDSM and asphyxiation porn between 10 pm and 11 pm every Tuesday, you're a virgin, you own a fleshlight–"

"Fuck, alright!" He threw his hands in the air, defeated. "So, what next?"

"You untie me and you tear me apart, Armin, that's what's next."

The blond hesitated before removing the cuffs on your ankles, still unsure about the ropes around your wrists. Clearly, you weren't making things up, but what were the chances of both of you stalking each other? For a brief moment, Armin felt guilty for hitting you and practically holding you captive, and you could see that on his face, but obsession and desire soon took over, and he reverted back to his darker self. His soft hands moved from your ankles to your knees, up your thighs and stomach, stopping above your chest, deciding it's best if you're not fully free. Armin licked his lips and climbed on top of you, unbuttoning his flannel shirt. You thought was surprisingly strong for such a thin man, but when the unbuttoned shirt revealed his chiselled abdomen, it made sense why he was strong.

"The wrists, Armin." You insisted but the blond clicked his tongue.

"I like you better when you're helpless." He pressed his lips onto yours in a hot kiss. A great kiss, you thought, your tongues wrestling for supremacy.

"Please, I want to touch you! I need to..." You trailed off, intoxicated by his smell, notes of saffron and cardamom. His hands roamed your shoulders, tickling your axilla and groping your breasts. "Please let me touch you, Armin!" You begged again, but he didn't say a word, his hot breath fanning over your oversensitive nipples, goosebumps all over your skin. His pink tongue poked out of his mouth and you watched him painstakingly slowly lick one of your nipples. It literally pained you to be unable to touch him, pull him closer to you. Alas, you had no choice, and despite yearning to be in control, it aroused you to have him control you.

"You smell so sweet." He abruptly stopped. "I bet you taste sweet, too."

"Armin..." His words made you brace yourself. While you weren't a virgin, you've never had anyone eat you out. The blond was already in between your legs, one hand resting under your thigh, the other gently touching your slick folds. Armin was so careful, like you were made of glass, and the ticklish sensation didn't help you at all. You wanted him to ram his cock inside of you and rearrange your guts, but he wanted to take his sweet time. The teasing only made you dizzy with pleasure, and you bucked your hips, trying to get him to move faster.

"You really need to learn to be patient, Y/N." Armin purred, pressing gentle kisses on your thighs. He lazily dragged his tongue across your slit, electricity shooting through your body. God, how you wanted to rip those ropes apart. Two fingers entered you and the blond gingerly licked your clit.  

"Fuck– so... so good ah–" You couldn't form a sentence even if your life counted on it. Gradually, you could feel your orgasm building up and Armin sensed it, picking up the pace. His fingers thrusted harder and you arched your back, the intensity too much for you. "Armin, please! I wanna come with your cock in me!" The begging didn't stop him, he was determined to make you finish then and there. And he did — within seconds you melted under his touch, legs trembling with pleasure. Armin pulled back, his mouth messy with saliva mixed with your juices.

"You come when I want you to come." His voice was low, almost like a growl. He unbuttoned his jeans, and you watched him like a hawk, waiting to see just how big his was, and you were not disappointed.

"Please please please let me suck it, please!" You begged him, eager to taste him. He smirked and kissed you, all the while rubbing his cock.

"You want this?" Armin quirked a brow at you. The little shit, jacking off in front of you and you couldn't even do anything about it.

"Armin..."

"Say it. Say you want it."

"Armin!"

"Say it, Y/N." He groaned, precum leaking from his member. Fuck.

"I... I want it..." You eventually gave up.

"Good girl." The blond climbed back on top of you. He raised your hips and you placed your legs on his shoulder, his first thrust slow and deep. Armin couldn't help the moan escaping his lips — this was so much better than that shitty fleshlight and countless porn videos. You couldn't deny the fact that it hurt, despite your soaking cunt, but you quickly adjusted to his size. As Armin pounded you, the bed underneath the two of you started moving and screeching, and the ropes tied to the metal bedframe loosened and you felt your arms fall onto the pillows. In his frenzy, the blond didn't notice, so you took this opportunity to lower your legs and wrap them around his waist, one hand grabbing his soft locks, the other wrapping around his neck. You used his weight against him and turned him over. You were in control.

Armin was taken aback by this, but the feeling of your fingers squeezing his throat only turned him on more. You bounced up and down, throwing your head back and groaning. He gripped your hips tightly, thrusting his own hips against yours.

"F-fuck me harder, Y/N!" He begged and you sped up. You felt like a queen — no, a goddess — when he asked you to fuck him, the feeling of him inside of you so addictive. He was your drug, and your rehab, your poison, and your antidote. And you were his and his only. His cock was twitching in your cunt and knew he was close but you didn't want to risk it. Swiftly, you got off of him and wrapped your lips around his dick, bobbing your head up and down. It didn't take long for him to finish, hot liquid shooting down your throat with one final grunt. You swallowed it all and threw yourself next to him. It was breaking dawn already, but you weren't tired. Physically, yes, both of you were exhausted, but mentally it felt like you discovered a hidden gem.

"What the fuck did we just do?" Armin calmly caressed your hair as you nuzzled his neck.

"Are we talking about the obsessively stalking each other part or the part where you hit me in the head? Or the fucking?"

"The everything." He explained. "This is wrong."

"Did it feel wrong?" You asked him, your fingers idly tracing circles over his chest.

"Well, no..."

"Then it's not wrong." You shrugged. "Am... am I yours?"

"Yes." The blond instantly replied without a trace of hesitation in his voice. "Am I?"

"You've been mine the moment you set foot in that shitty coffee shop." You laughed.

"And what are we going to tell the others?"

"That we ended up talking all night and I stayed over?"

"Sounds like a plan." Armin kissed your forehead.

"By the way, I really don't like Pearl Jam." You admitted.

He laughed and it filled your heart with warmth. You have no idea why you and Armin were like that, or how things would be from now on, but you had a good feeling about it. Things were okay. You two were okay.

[norarigby]

フェア関西のルームメイト二名 (The Two Roommates from Fair Kansai)

Chapter 2: The Typo

Previous | Next

Description: In which while typing a roommate ad online, the famed Miya Atsumu, (23) MSBY Jackals Setter, makes a detrimental typo that leads to an influx of women applicants. Confused, but not completely opposed (the idiot), Miya Atsumu lands on a formidable candidate. Y/n L/n. A Biotechnology major at Kansai University, looking for a change after her last disastrous roommates and some space from a particular complication. It’s odd, but it’ll work. Maybe a little too well.

Pairings: Miya Atsumu x Reader

Warnings: None!

Word Count: ~1.4k

A/n: Cross posted from my AO3. I update there first, so if you want the chapters sooner, check it out!

To say Atsumu was overwhelmed would be an understatement. When one of the athletic directors approached him saying how his phone kept going off in the locker room, he was concerned something was seriously wrong. As a precaution, they assure him that if it was an emergency that he should feel free to take the day. But upon closer inspection, he quickly realized that wouldn’t be necessary. He scrolled through what seemed like pages of messages and missed calls about the ad. And not just any inquiries, but…

“ALL WOMEN!” Atsumu exclaimed loudly in the busy shop. A few annoyed heads turned to the source of the outburst.

Osamu rolled his eyes, “‘Tsumu, we talked about this. Having you come during busy hours is already enough of a nuisance, but could you keep it down? This is still a public place.”

“But ‘Samu! What am I going to do?” Atsumu whisper-shouted like it would help his outburst, but it still elicited a few head turns, “I already didn’t want to room with a stranger! And now all of the applicants are girls? This has to be some sort of joke.”

Osamu helped with the line and handed out a few orders to customers before focusing some energy on his dramatic brother. “Well, did you specify that you were only looking for male roommate?”

Atsumu picked at the stray rice grains on his plate as he tried to remember what he wrote. He couldn’t remember specifying anything about the roommate themselves; focusing mainly on the apartment itself. He voiced his thoughts to his brother.

“Hmm, well Atsumu can be a girl's name. Maybe that’s why?”

He tried not to be offended at his brother’s comment, mainly because he was partially right. It’s possible that they’re assuming he’s a girl. But that doesn’t make entire sense either. Is it possible his fan club found the posting? That seemed pretty possible. Atsumu knew fangirls could get crazy when they wanted to be.

Osamu finished some things behind the bar and went over to sit by Atsumu. The two contemplated his conundrum over a fresh plate of onigiri. After Osamu’s second, he spoke up, “Just for science, can I see your ad?”

Atsumu gave him an incredulous look, but pulled up the ad anyway, “I mean, sure, but I don’t think-”

At Atsumu’s sudden silence, Osamu’s curiosity was piqued, “”Tsumu? Everything okay?”

Wordlessly he handed the phone over and Osamu read through the ad. Immediately after reading, he burst into laughter.

“‘Samu! This isn’t funny!”

But Osamu was laughing so hard he couldn’t even speak. Some of his employees turned out of concern and curiosity at their boss’ sudden burst. Eventually, he calmed down enough to choke out a “you are in some trouble, ‘Tsumu”.

Roommate Wanted.

Master Bedroom available with a private bath in a 100 sq m apartment in Osaka. In-unit wash, AC, dishwasher, internet, etc. Fully furnished (besides bedroom available). Rent with utilities is 62784¥. Near public transportation. Feel free to contact with questions or offers.

06-XXXX-XXXX

Text/Call

Miya Atsumi

--

“Alright, that wraps it up for today. Finish the calculations on your own time and be sure to bring back your completed form by next class. See you Tuesday!”

The sound of chairs scraping against the floor harmonized with the zipping and unzipping of backpacks as the classroom got up to leave. Y/n pulled out her phone to finally check her messages.

From: Mom

Found a listing in Osaka that looks interesting. Good apartment with really good pricing. You should give them a call.

(link)

Y/n typed a quick thank you before clicking on the link. Her mom was right. It looked like a decent location and a not too bad price. Trying to look for any information on the roommate (roommates?), all she could see was a number and a name at the bottom of the ad. What a strange listing. It was probably the shortest listing she’d ever come across--and definitely the most to the point.

Y/n sat and stared at the listing for a little bit while weighing her options. She just got out of an interesting situation in Suita, but she was now living with her parents. Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but both her and her parents weren’t exactly jumping at the idea of her moving back in, especially with her graduating college next year.

Making up her mind, she copied the number and sent a quick text to the number on the ad. A silent prayer was sent to whoever was listening. This wouldn’t fix all of her problems, but this would solve a big one and she swore she would be able to handle the rest.

--

“And you told me I was loud,” Now Atsumu was getting antsy about the amount of people staring at his hysteric brother. “”Samu, you need to calm down.”

This had been going on for at least ten minutes now. Osamu would read through the ad, get sent into a fit of laughter, finally calm down, but then would read it again and the cycle would start all over again. Not used to being the responsible twin, in addition to being extremely embarrassed by his brother’s reaction to his typo, Atsumu was at a loss for what to do. He tried sending reassuring smiles to patrons and mumbled some apologies, but that was the extent of his capabilities.

Finally, Osamu calmed down and pushed Atsumu’s phone back to him. Taking a deep breath to compose himself, Osamu tried to console his brother, “Hey, maybe this won’t be such a bad thing. Surely, there’s at least one of those girls that you could at least be civil with.”

Atsumu scrolled through his messages again, exacerbated, “Even if that’s true! There’s too many! I don’t really have the time to sit and go through all of these.”

There were at least 100 people who had responded to his ad and where the messages definitely weren’t flooding in as much as they had earlier that day, he would get a notification about once every 15-20 minutes. By the time he got through the original applicants, there would be another 100-200 to take their place. In between practice and conditioning, there was no way Atsumu was going to be able to get through these all by himself.

“Tell you what,” Osamu leaned back in the chair he was sitting in, “Since this was partially my idea, I’ll help you tonight after I close up. And if we can’t find anyone, I’ll help you write up a better listing and we can delete this one.”

Atsumu’s other issue with all of these applicants is that he really didn’t want to spend energy looking through dozens of descriptions and deciding if he would like them or not. He assumed it would be like the dating app he had for a couple weeks, but worse. Atsumu really didn’t like the idea of judging someone based on a single paragraph they wrote about themselves. He preferred a more personal approach. Like with the various spikers and teammates he’d played with over the years, he was really good at reading people in person. Within a short conversation, he could pretty accurately lay out a person’s personality (what things they might like, what might make them tick, what things they were indifferent to). Over the internet it was much more difficult.

He guessed he could always ask them to meet in person, right? That was something people did. They could meet at his brother’s restaurant so then Osamu could get a feel for the other person. Atsumu figured it would also get one glaring issue out of the way: he was a guy.

It was a fool proof plan. Osamu and him would sort through the applicants tonight and he would invite them to meet him in person. This way he can see if it’s going to work or not and if they aren’t comfortable with rooming with a guy they can just leave. Genius!

Atsumu recounted his plan to his brother and Osamu was in agreement. With that, the blonde brother left to go to afternoon conditioning, planning on returning just before close to sneak in a few more onigiri from his brother before the long haul.

[modern-vellichor]

hello my love !!!

i know you have a lot going on right now so take your time with this request .... but wouldn’t it be so cute if the reader was a HUGE Steve Rogers Cap fan and Bucky surprises them by having Steve come to their like taco night or movie night or something. And they can’t get the reader to stop hugging Steve so they just continue their night with the reader attached to Steve LOL or something like that ? I just think Bucky and Y/N (aka me) would be Steve’s biggest fans 🥺

anything for you babe <3 also if you haven't seen the movies in this i highly recommend them, they're some of my faves. warnings; explicit language.

"What are we watching tonight?" You asked as you dried the dishes.

Tuesday nights were movie nights. You curled up on the couch and dimmed the lights. Bucky was a romantic, last week you watched Forgetting Sarah Marshall, Bucky's favourite.

"I don't know," Bucky called from where he was stacking plates. "It's your turn to pick."

You ended up picking Ready Or Not. You liked picking horror films, and listening to Bucky pointing out all the inaccuracies and mistakes being made by the characters. You would listen to him talk about anything.

"Buck, turn on the radio," you commanded excitedly. "Steve's on now."

You'd listen to Steve talk forever, too. He was gorgeous, and you had no problem admitting it. He was your favourite exhibit at the Smithsonian when you were young. You spent every birthday there, even after it was deemed uncool. Steve's voice buzzed to life on the radio, you listened contentedly.

"Don't forget I have a surprise for you, doll."

"I won't."

"Dress decent."

"I will."

"Will you?" Bucky looked you up and down with a cheeky grin.

You giggled, pecking your lover on the cheek. You dried your hands and carried on pottering about the kitchen, just tidying things up until Bucky yelled at you to get ready. You skipped out of your room, settling yourself on the sofa, dressed only half decent.

It wasn't your birthday, or his. It wasn't an anniversary either, you would have known. So it couldn't have been that important, but you dressed nicer than usual anyway.

Bucky didn't settle beside you as he usually did, instead he hovered anxiously by the door, waiting. A gentle knock came from the other side of the door.

"Buck, darling, who's that?" You called, eyes on the tv.

"Your surprise," he called back. "Close your eyes."

You did as you were told. You closed your eyes and folded your hands in your lap. You waited patiently, and then Bucky spoke again, his voice coming from directly in front of you.

"Alright, don't freak out. Open your eyes."

You cracked one eye open slowly, and then the other. A tall blonde man came into view, dressed nicely. You smiled at him, hoping he couldn't hear your heart beating out of your chest. You stood up and extended your hand.

"Mr. Rogers, it's lovely to meet you," you exclaimed. "Bucky has told me so much about you."

Blood rushed in your ears, your breathing was shallow. You swallowed as Steve took your hand. He was so much bigger than you, he took over your living room, totally blocking the TV.

You settled Steve on the couch before hurrying Bucky into the kitchen.

"What the actual fuck, babe!" You whispered, panicked. "The place isn't clean, I look like shit!"

"Honey," he cooed quietly. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you flush against him. "You look great. Steve is only here for movie night, he's a friend of your boyfriend, that's all."

"He's my boyfriend's friend, yeah," you breathed as you calmed down.

You smiled as you skipped back towards the couch. You sat next to Steve, curling against Bucky so that you could face him. You chatted for a while. Steve was nice, funny too.

"This one's a little bloody, so, uh, sorry," you rambled as you pressed play on the movie.

You all enjoyed the movie. Steve ended up vowing to join you for more movie nights.

"That was nice, thank you," you mumbled against Bucky's lips as you slipped under the covers.

"Darling," he smiled. "it was my pleasure."

[ineffablehogwash]

I'd like to vent about my service industry job for a moment, feel free to ignore. I'd put a break if the fucking mobile app would let me, but I can't get it rn, so I'm sorry.

As a preface:

Already having 10+ years food service experience, I slid into this job with practically no training needed, and have now been here for a year, busting my ass and doing far more than I ever should have between prep, cleaning, service, etc. (and just to side-gripe, never gotten any sort of raise or recognition from the men with the money.)

Despite her admittedly having some kind of gross hot takes and political opinions, between going through our late ADHD diagnosis and treatment together and having similar job/general life experiences, I've become decent friends with my current manager. Unfortunately, part of our shared experience is being/having been food service managers for a place with ignorant, stingy, trash-men as owners.

In a commercial kitchen it is a legal requirement here (and in most places) to have a ventilation hood, and is something that a single notification to the local fire marshall would incite immediate closure and steep fines for. There are exceptions to this rule, but that's for places like Smoothie King where they don't even as much as bake cookies in-house.

We are not a Smoothie King.

We utilize a full gas setup for a double frier, flat top grill, stove top range, and two ovens, in a kitchen that may be smaller than some of your living rooms.

When using these kinds of equipment without a functional hood, not only can it raise the temperature to disgustingly, nauseatingly-high temperatures, it also allows for smoke, airborne grease particulates, and toxic fume byproducts building up in the kitchen, and depending on various circumstances and floor plans, creep into customer areas.

Well, my manager and I had noticed and notified the owners starting at least two weeks ago that ours was making a lot of noise that did not seem normal or okay.

We were blown off, mansplained to about 'moisture on the fan belts causing a little noise now and then', and a lot of other bullshit excuses to just ignore it.

This kept going day after day, progressively getting worse every time we turned it on. I could not hear anyone over the noise it was making unless I left the grill side altogether. I feel like this goes without being said, but this makes busy service more difficult than it needs to be.

Yesterday, New Years Eve, the main owner was there while it made more Jurassic Park sound effects and still blew it off while the manager and I both stared at him. I finished my shift out and left.

Later, come time for dinner service, it finally happened.

Here are excerpts from the text conversation I had with the manager:

"The hood motor completely died during dinner tonight. That sound we’ve been hearing was the fan bearings shattering. They’re trying to still do brunch tomorrow. We will close after, stay closed until Tuesday afternoon or Wednesday at the earliest. HAPPY NEW YEAR, enjoy your day (days?) off! 🤡🔫"

..."I've been on and off the phone with them while they tried to rig it with the spare intake motor. The bearings completely destroyed it tho. I said "So no brunch?" and he said we'll still do brunch, just with the door open and a fan. I said "No one should work that grill without a hood, it's illegal for a reason." ..."

"He seemed flabbergasted that we might not want to work without a hood. ..."

"This is the most comical, theatrically written moment of karmic retribution, and they're completely ignoring the bad omen staring them in the face lmao"

"CMON JUST BE COOL GUYS, THINK OF THE BUSINESS."

Of course it devolved into meme trash:

So since I have a child to feed and they are the type to opt towards spending thousands of the shop savings on unnecessary music equipment for events that don't pertain to us, but can't use that same pool for preventative equipment maintenance, repairs, or lost wages due to negligence of said maintenance, I went in for my opening shift this morning.

Ending up just being me watching this disrespectful, mansplaining, stoned out of his mind, "I'd vote for Obama again" performative liberal stutter and flounder, arguing with the manager about whether to be open or closed, making very insensitive comments about "needing the money too" and "no one wanting to work anymore" (paraphrasing, and a lot of comments hyper-situational to a few of our individual circumstances) until he broke and called it.

Now we're closed indefinitely because of the holiday timing. 🙃

I'm awaiting the update call from the manager - seems they stayed behind to continue yelling at one another, but she said she wants to help me fix up my resume.

Fuck this place, this job, this industry, and capitalism, and uh, thank you for reading I guess?

Anyway, want some shitty fan art done of your favorite ships or ocs? Proceeds go to this temporarily out-of-work nb parent lol

[sassycassie-s-writing]

Movie Night, Pillow Fight [Version 2]

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): DC/BatFam - Jason Todd/Red Hood

Rating: PG-13/T (maybe pushing M? but there’s still nothing super explicit. this is just a lot dirtier than I usually write holy cannoli. Heavy kissing, a little bit of suggestive dialogue and narration, minor swearing?)

Original Idea: This (V1 follows this idea a lot more than this one, which I spun off of about halfway through and did my own thing)

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) I didn’t think this would be as long as Version 1. I was wrong. This one is ~200 words longer, at 3,491. Version 1 here. They start the exact same but change about halfway through. I wrote both of these two over the course of 1 day by the way, and refuse to pick a favorite. @welovegroot @jason-redhood @jason-todd-squad

^^^^^

“No, Bruce,” Jason said sharply into his phone as he grabbed his motorcycle helmet. “I’ve already told you a hundred times: Tuesdays are my day off. Unless it’s a Court-of-Owls-attacking-All-Hands-On-Deck emergency, I’m not going on patrol. I’m allowed one night off per week. And I have plans. It’s weekly movie night with a friend of mine. We’ve been doing movie night since college and I refuse to disappoint her. You know why I chose Tuesdays? Because Gotham’s crime rate is lowest. You’ll be fine without me.” He hung up before Bruce could reply.

—

I opened the door. “You’re late,” I said.

“Yeah. I had to go to two different stores to find your popcorn because they were out at the first one,” Jason replied, letting himself in and dropping his motorcycle helmet on my couch. “Let me go change into my sweats.” He pulled his grey sweatpants out of his backpack, two microwave popcorn bags falling out.

I grabbed them. “Thanks Jay,” I said playfully.

He gave me a brief hug before stepping past me to my bathroom. “The things I do for you,” he teased with a sigh.

“Get out of those jeans. You know they aren’t allowed,” I retorted before going over to the microwave. My bathroom door shut loudly. I boosted myself onto the counter and watched the popcorn spin in the microwave.

By the time Jason emerged from the bathroom, only one bag was done. He leaned against the counter next to me, arms folded, and joined my staring.

“So what movie did you bring?” I asked. “You said in your text it was one of your favorites.”

He beamed at me. “Well, my friend, we are watching the very first ever made Frankenstein. From nineteen-thirty-one.” He fixed me with a stare as my shoulders slouched. “Don’t you start moaning in complaint. You put me through watching that awful musical last week—”

“Excuse you, Phantom of the Opera is also a classic.”

“It’s basic.”

“You’re basic.”

“Maybe so, but after going through that ordeal, you promised we could watch one of my favorites. I managed not to fall asleep last week, so it’s my turn.” He stuck his tongue out at me, then shook his head. “I really need to refine your taste in theatre. Remind me to convince Bruce to give me his season tickets to the real opera. He never uses them anyway. Doesn’t know what he’s missing out on.”

Given Bruce’s parents were shot after leaving the opera, I imagined there was some childhood trauma there. I didn’t bring it up with Jason. We didn’t talk about family besides passing comments on movie nights.

When the second bag of popcorn was finished popping and put in its own large bowl—I had quite the collection of popcorn bowls, usually given to me—we went to my room.

Ever since we’d graduated college—two years ago—we’d had movie night in my bed, rather than on the couch, like we’d done in my dorm. The bed was comfier and gave us more room to spread out. I can’t even remember who suggested it, but it was probably me one week when I was sick or something and we’d just stayed that way ever since.

I’d always hosted too. In college it was because my roommate was never there, and now Jason just liked the escape from his family. They didn’t know where I lived, so the one time he hosted and they interrupted by coming over, he and I agreed we’d just have it at my place. I liked his brothers and sister well enough, but they’d ruined that movie night. I doubted Wayne Manor movie nights ever involved any movies no one had seen before—because everyone talked and yelled at each other too much to actually pay attention to the movie.

Jason put the DVD in the player in my room. “Prepare to be wowed,” he said.

“I’m prepared, trust me,” I replied flatly.

—

“Heeey,” Jason’s voice said softly. “Wake up, doofus.”

I blinked my eyes open blearily. “Wha…?”

He started chuckling. “You fell asleep about halfway through.”

“Duh. It was boring. What did you expect for a casual movie fan from this century watching something from nineteen-thirty-one?”

“Well, all that means is that we get to rewatch it—from the beginning—next week!” Jason declared. I frowned. “Don’t you pout at me. Those have been the official movie night rules since our freshman year of college.”

“That’s not true,” I said, pulling out my phone. I dug deep into the Google Docs on my phone for Movie Night Rules from our freshman year of college. Six years was a long way to scroll through, but eventually I found it. I opened the doc and scanned the rules. “Oh, buzz off,” I muttered, poking Jason in the side.

“No poking!” He lurched away. Jason was selectively ticklish. Sometimes I would poke him in the side and he’d jump, other times he wouldn’t even notice I touched him. And he swapped between the two randomly.

“Why didn’t you wake me up like two minutes after I fell asleep?”

Jason pursed his lips, trying not to smile. “I thought about it. But you looked so cute—” He pinched my cheek and I was reminded of the fact that he had the personality traits of an eighty-year-old grandmother. “—with your hair all messy and your cheeks all squished that I just couldn’t.” He laughed as I batted his hand away from my face. I poked him again. “No poking!”

“Then don’t tease.”

“I have a right to tease you. Look at my shirt! You drooled all over it.”

I grabbed the hem of it and pulled it up. “Let me throw it in the wash, then.”

I expected him to smack my hand away and shove the shirt back down over his torso, but to my surprise, he helped me take it off. I’d seen him shirtless too many times to bother staring at his remarkably muscular torso. I just climbed out of my bed and went to the small closet out in the hall that held my tiny washer and dryer. I threw his shirt in the washer, dumped a bit of detergent in, and got it started before going back to my room.

“Take that off! You’ll stretch it out!” I snapped.

Jason struggled to get one of my—much smaller—T-shirts from college off. I scoffed and helped him yank it over his head before throwing one my pajama shirts at him. I wore my dad’s old T-shirts to sleep in, so it was even big on Jason. “You could have just asked for a replacement and I’d have handed you this.”

“That’s not as fun as surprising you,” he joked.

I rolled my eyes and perched back on the bed. “Fine. Next week, we rewatch Frankenstein. I won’t fall asleep. But you’re bringing snacks again.”

“Of course.”

“And don’t forget the popcorn.”

“Doofus, if I forgot the popcorn, you wouldn’t let me through the door.”

I snickered. “True enough.”

Jason leaned over to set his popcorn bowl on the bedside table closest to him. “Maybe next week we should try this on the couch. I always feel bad about getting popcorn on your sheets—and then you won’t be so comfortable that you fall asleep.”

I grabbed a pillow and whacked him in the chest. His expression turned affronted.

“Did you just initiate a pillow fight?” he demanded.

“No,” I retorted. “I got payback for you insulting me.” I whacked him again. “That was me initiating a pillow fight.” I started flinging the pillow at him again and again.

“Hey! Not fair!” Jason protested. “I’m unarmed!”

I ignored him and kept up my pillow smacking.

He laughed. “Well, if you’re going to play dirty, I will too.” He reached out as my pillow hit him again and he wrangled it from me. “A-ha! Look at that! Got your ammo. How does it feel, to be attacked by your own pillow?”

Jason started smacking me with it. I squealed and blocked him as best I could with my arms. We were both laughing as I tried to reach around him to the pillow he’d been using to brace his back against my headboard. He grabbed my wrist with one hand and hit me with the pillow using the other. “I don’t think so,” he said. “I’m not going easy on you just because you’re adorable.”

I laughed as he nearly hit me hard enough to knock me off the bed.

So, I switched tactics.

Getting inside his much longer reach was the hard part. Once I managed to duck around his arms and wrench my wrist free, I started tickling him. Tonight was a ticklish night. He squirmed away from me.

Jason yowled—and I hoped my neighbors weren’t home—in laughter. “Stop it—stop tickling!”

I didn’t. I ran my wiggling fingers up his sides and across his neck. He tried to catch my hands, but I was quick enough to evade him.

For a few moments anyway.

“No. No!” His protests didn’t work on me. “Oh you’re as bad as my brothers. Stop it—stop it.” His voice went firm, all traces of laughter gone. With one quick movement, the pillow we’d attacked each other with was discarded on the floor. He grabbed my ankles and pulled me so I was lying flat in the center of the bed.

Jason straddled my waist, trapping my lower legs with his ankles and pinning both my hands above my head on the mattress. He was breathing hard. We both were.

He smiled. “There. Not so feisty now, are you? Hands pinned above your head, lying beneath me all… helpless.” He chuckled and licked his lower lip, his smile turning both playful and wicked. “I could have… any kind of revenge I want.” He bent his elbows, lowering himself over me. My breathing grew shorter and blood roared in my ears. “I can have any…” He paused, eyes flicking from mine to where my necklace charm had fallen down one side and landed on the mattress. His eyes widened, as if he seemed to just barely realize how close we were. “This is…” His elbows straightened, pushing him higher above me. “I’m… sorry.” He started to gently pick his way off of me. “I’m gonna let you go now.”

He released his grip on my wrists. I rolled them and flexed my hands to get some feeling back into them.

He swung his leg to get off me and used it to step off the bed. “I should go,” he said breathlessly. “I’m so sorry. I’ll grab my T-shirt next week.” He strode to the door of my bedroom while I sat on the bed, dumbfounded, jaw hanging open.

As he opened the door, I bounded off the bed.

I caught him before he could reach for his stuff on my couch, grabbing his wrist. “What was that about?” I demanded. He refused to turn and look at me.

“Just… let it go,” he said, shaking his head. He tried to pull his wrist out of my hand, but I grabbed it with my other one to hold him in both.

“No! What the hell is going on with you?”

“Leave it alone,” he growled out.

“I can’t! What happened in there that made you shut down? What did I do wrong?”

He whirled. “It’s nothing to do with you. It’s me!”

“Then tell me what it is!” I shouted.

Jason grabbed me by the shoulders, wrenching out of my grip so hard my fingers ached. He spun me around and pinned me by the shoulders against my front door. A muscle worked in his jaw as he clenched it before fixing me with a crystal blue stare. “It’s just… seeing you beneath me—all flushed pink and panting, your eyes hooded and staring up at me… seeing you like that… I just felt myself fall in love with you!”

If he hadn’t pinned me against the door I probably would have fallen over from shock. My mouth definitely fell open. “Jay… I…” I breathed.

Still holding my shoulders, he spun me around so I was away from the front door and moved to shove his jeans into his backpack.

Before he could, I threw reservation to the wind.

I grabbed his shoulders, forced him to turn and face me, moved my hands to the back of his head, and pulled him down to kiss me.

Our mouths crashed together hard enough to make my front teeth ache, but I didn’t care. My heart leapt into my throat and I almost melted as his arms circled my waist, pulling me closer, so our torsos were pressed against each other. My eyelids closed as I sighed. We were both breathing hard, air from our noses warm against each other’s skin. Holding my waist in both arms, he turned and pinned my back against the door again.

“Oh, God…” Jason breathed against my lips. He kissed me again and I moaned. He reached one hand up and tangled it in my hair. He could palm the back of my skull as though it were a basketball. His fingers were warm against my scalp.

When he pulled his lips away from me, I groaned quietly in complaint.

“We—we should not be doing this,” he whispered, shaking his head. The white streak at the front of his hairline flopped back and forth with the movement. I wanted to reach my fingers up and twist that streak between them. But I didn’t.

“Why not?” I replied, just as breathless.

“We’re friends. This isn’t us.”

“You just said that you just barely fell in love with me.”

“I did. But I’m not willing to ruin the good thing we’ve had going on here for six years.” He panted, shoulders heaving up and down, as he reached up and took my hands away from his face, gently dragging them by the wrists. “You’ve been the best friend I’ve been able to keep longer than a year or two. I can’t… I can’t just… this isn’t about what I want.”

“I’m the one who kissed you,” I pointed out. “What does that say about what I want?”

“It’s not just about wants,” he said. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Us being together is dangerous? To whom?”

“To you.”

“Why would it be dangerous for me?” I pushed.

He let me go and spun away from me. He looked like he wanted to shout and rage—maybe throw something—but he just clenched his fists and panted.

When he finally turned back to face me, he’d calmed down a little. “It’s dangerous… because… I… oh, Bruce is gonna kill me…” he whispered, shaking his head again. “Because I… am… the Red Hood.”

Two big confessions in one night. I felt a little dizzy and remembered to breathe.

“Red Hood. As in… the vigilante. And… the crime boss.”

“Vigilante, yes. Crime boss days are behind me. I was newly-back-from-the-dead and not in a stable mindset when I became a crime boss.” I decided not to ask about that. He huffed and sat on my coffee table, instead of the sofa, rubbing his temples. “And I wasn’t going to tell you about it, by the way. You’re the only normal friend I have right now. But it’s too dangerous for us to be together. If any of the rogues in this city knew I had someone I cared about as much as I care about—as much as I love you… you would not survive to the end of the year.”

I crossed from the front door to the sofa and sat on the sofa cushion closest to him, setting my hand on his knee. “Jay, I… I’m willing to risk it. To be with you. We just need to be careful—”

“I’m not willing to lose you. I would have been terrified before tonight if someone worse than me caught you. Knew you were just a friend. Now, though? Now, I don’t know what I’d do if you were captured, and that scares me even more. I saw you under me in that bedroom and I saw a future that was good—for the first time in the nine years since I was resurrected—but I can’t let that be my future. For your sake.”

I bit down on my tongue to keep from shouting. But I did tighten my grip on his knee hard and snap, “Get over yourself, Todd. You’re not the only one who gets to make this decision.”

“No, but apparently I’m the only one who can see things objectively enough to make the wise decision.”

It was my turn to want to throw something. “Jason. Peter. Todd. I don’t care about the danger. And I know you do. But do you know what it’d do to me, knowing that you love me and I feel the same, but you won’t let me be yours? Do you know what it would do to you? I know what it would do to me. It would eat me up inside day in and day out. I would sit here dying for you, waiting for you to come to your senses and carry me back into that bedroom to stay in there all night. But you never would. And I would just wait. I’d never date anyone else. If I tried, all I’d be doing was wishing they were you.

“You and I are cut from the same cloth. Some people are just born to sacrifice. To give up what they want—what they need—for the sake of other people. It’s the only choice we’re ever given, so it’s the choice we make over and over and over again. Sometimes people will split others into Givers and Takers. Those of us born to sacrifice are a step beyond even Givers. We’re the ones who give up everything for others. I’ve done it with my family my entire life. Everyone else always wanted so strongly that my only option was to give up my own. You’re the same, I see it every time I see you with your brothers.

“Jason, it’s time for us to Take. It’s time to let life give us something. This is the moment to be selfish. To put aside Batman and his zealous crusade for one damn moment and let yourself be happy.” I dug my fingernails into his knee through his sweats. “Be selfish for once, Jason.”

He finally looked up at me, eyes meeting mine. “I can’t,” he said.

I clamped my mouth shut and sighed loudly through them. “Yes, you can. If you’re waiting for my consent, you’ve more than got it. I’m telling you now to give yourself consent to want. To take. Get over this hold out that a double life has on you and—mmph!”

He cut me off by slamming his lips against mine, surging off the coffee table and straddling me on the sofa. I moaned and wrapped my arms around his neck. He pulled me to one side, sitting on the sofa and guiding me to straddle himself. His hands were splayed over my shoulder blades. I twisted his white streak through my fingers. Our breath shuddered in and out of our lungs. I parted my lips slightly and ran the tip of my tongue over the seam of his lips.

They opened immediately and let me in. I sighed out my nose. “Please ruin our friendship,” I breathed into his lips. “This is so much better.”

He snickered out his nose, smiling. “Does your consent to let me want you include me carrying you back into that bedroom and neither of us leaving until dawn?” He nodded toward my room.

My body shivered. Not from cold. Excitement. Electricity.

“Definitely,” I said breathlessly.

His hands slid from my shoulder blades and down to my legs. He held them and stood up. I hooked my ankles around his back, locking my arms’ grip around his neck.

He carried me to my room, kicked the door shut, and laid me gently on the messed-up bedsheets and disarrayed pillows. On all fours above me, my legs around his waist, he kissed me. Gently, at first, but he quickly grew hungry. His hands worked their way under my shirt, callused palms scraping slightly against my skin.

“Still okay with this?” His voice was barely more than a hoarse whisper.

“Oh yeah,” I breathed, unable to even speak loud enough to be heard from inches away.

He smiled. Wicked delight flickering on his face. “Well, get ready for me to call you mine. Because I am all yours.”

I smiled. “I’m yours, Jason.”

[pbandjesse]

Why do I feel like ants are walking on me?? Very itchy. My allergies have been kicking off really bad tonight. But it was not a bad day at all. It was just stupid hot. I was damp all day. But it's fine. I am in the ac now and doing a lot better.

I did have a fun day though! I slept pretty well and didn't toss and turn as much. I got up and got dressed. I felt very cute. I wore my long black skirt today because I thought I could like. Fan myself? But mostly it felt like to much fabric. But I would be okay.

I said goodbye to James and went to get breakfast. Which took almost a half hour. So I am glad I left early.

I got to camp and stopped up by the ground elements area to make sure things were set up and this is when I realized how heavy the air was. I almost thought it might rain but it was just heavy and hot and horrible. Ugh.

And it didn't help that we had to keep walking to the lodge to pick up and drop off our groups. So I had to walk across camp like. 7 times. I was so overheated every time we got up to my program. It sucked.

But thankfully the groups were great. I drove my car down and had a weird thing happen with my parking break and reverse switching?? But I figured it out and parked by the office. I did have to walk back up to the tipi feild to meet with Zay so he could help me set up low ropes. And that was fine with me. And because it worked out Chloe was able to give us all a ride down to the lodge to get our groups. Thank you Chloe!!

And like I said the groups were so great. Like 90% of the kids participated and were a lot of fun. We had a few who did not participate and a couple who actively tried to make their classmates fail? Just complained?? I don't know. It's all good. We had a lot of fun.

I let them know we were doing a challenge by choice model. And that let some sit out of they wanted. And that I encourage them to participate but I won't force them. We started with the tire over wooden stakes thing, and while every group today accomplished it, I think they were overthinking it a lot. But the person who was the speaker/director of each team did a good job and I think the debrief was good? I am bad at the debriefs.

Next we did whale watcher. The first got up could not get it, with a 15 second time, the second group had a lot of complaining and got 60 seconds. And the last group did the best at working together and got 1 minute and 15 seconds!

We would do team wall next. It was my first time doing it and I did my best to encourage but I couldn't help much. Mostly because I can't reach and can barely see over the wall. And everyone was so sweaty that it was hard to pull people up and over. And I slipped on the ladder and was a little shaken up but it was fine. I was just really sweaty and kept running out of breath. Sucked. At least I was having fun.

We did the low ropes next. And that was fun. Lots of laughs. And finally we would do the A frames over in the tipi feild. It was a fun program, though they all took forever to do the first two and I was surprised by that. Ah well.

After the first program I walked them down to go have snack. Took a minute in the ac at the pool house. And then went to the porch to eat my sandwich and chill until the next program. After the second program they had lunch. I walked all the way to the lodge and then they told me we had our lunch at the office. So I walked back. They got me Mac and cheese. Thank you Heather.

While there I got to hear some horse community drama. And then my dad texted me that his amputation has been scheduled. Next Tuesday. I'm not thrilled that there is still another week of waiting. But like emotionally I understand why dad needs time. I just want him to start healing. And this feels like the step. This is it. This is going to help him in a tangible way. Like it sucks. It really does. But I also feel like amputation is one of the oldest surgical things? Trepanation is older probably.

I had one more group and they did a great job. But we were all so stupidly sweaty and I felt so dirty. I finished almost all my water. And then everyone came and helped me put everything away. I felt very loved in that moment.

Heather drove the gater up and helped carry everything up to the shed. And once everything was wrapped up and put in it's place she drove me, Chloe, and Zay back to the office to go home.

I took the walkies inside and refilled my water. My car felt like it was a million degrees so I turned the car on and let it run for a minute before I left.

And it was a good drive once the car cooled off inside. I was super excited to go home.

And when I got back here I was frustrated by the what still. But I got upstairs and James had put the ac on for me. They were in the shower. And once they were done I went and took one myself. I felt a lot better after that but I was still so damp.

I would sit in my studio in front of a fan. And went through all our bath and body products and tossed anything that smelled full and combined things that could be combined and tossed the empty stuff. It felt nice to organize. James helped bring stuff in from the bathroom for me. And I had a nice time sorting.

James went and got pizza for us for dinner. They walked to the pizza shop to get it. I laid in the ac until they got home.

We had pizza in the living room and talked about how to make my book now that the pieces are done. But that ended up being so frustrating. James is going to organize the files but then we looked at the scans and they looked terrible. The scanner just wasn't doing what I was hoping. And so then I set up lights and background paper to photograph the scans. But I only have my phone and they looked terrible.

I was just so bummed. And felt so stupid. Like this should have been finished months ago but camp was a lot and now things are getting so busy again so even though I don't have a real deadline I just wanted to be done already. And so I'm frustred with myself.

It will be okay but I sort of shut down I was so upset. We will figure it out but I am still not having much fun.

James made me a little milkshake. And really I am just ready to go to sleep.

I am driving back up to my parents tomorrow. And my brother is going to be there and then we'll go have lunch. I asked if he wanted to do an activity but he wasn't down. I am only slightly sad about that but I understand. I am going to go hang out with Jess after that. And I will probably sleep over at my parents so I don't have to rush or drive late at night. We will see what I decide but I packed my little backpack regardless.

Now though I'm going to wash my face and get ready to sleep.

I hope you have a fun and safe day tomorrow. Take care of yourself!!! Goodnight!!

[keravnous]

- agent 14/agent steve haines; american money

It's a Thursday and it's raining. The raindrops are heavy and loud on impact, running down his windshield like tears. He's on his way to the set and he prays that it'll clear up soon.

"This show will kill you", Warren sits on his bed, sheets lazily draped over his legs. Steve can see where his pubic hair begins and his mouth waters. Warren takes a long drag from his cigarette, blows the smoke into the air.

"It fucking won't, nothing can", Steve's leaning against the door frame, coffee in hand.

"Fuck yes, it can. And it will, lurking around at Forum Drive all day and for what? Two minutes of frightening pictures that will make Karens all over LS go buck wild."

"Who's Karen?"

"Forget about it. Let me suck your dick, Haines, c'mere."

As he arrives near the recreational center and pulls into one of the lots it has indeed stopped raining. The streets are still wet but the sun's coming out again and the air is already mushy with the reblooming heat. There's a lanky man with a dog and he's yelling into his phone - the man that is, not the dog.

He knows who the guy is, even though he most likely doesn't know him, probably he doesn't even know that Steve exists. He's an associate of Franklin Clinton and the Bureau keeps a close eye on him, due to the nature of Clinton being so close with Townley and Philips.

Steve watches Lamar, leaning against the hood of his car, the remaining rain wetting his thigh through the denim.

"Man Frank, you just ain't around no more, homie. That's all I'm saying. Yeah - Yeah, sure whatever, dog - Yeah, fuck yourself too, homie."

He hangs up and stuffs his phone back into his pocket. The dog looks at him. "Man, you get the fool more than I do, Chop. Wassup with him, can you tell me? He always been that fool, but something ain't right there."

Steve knows what ain't right there. Franklin must've picked up by now, or maybe Townley told him, what they were up to that one afternoon at the warehouse. And for what he knows about Clinton and what the intel tells him, the young man probably isn't much of a big fan of government-approved interrogation techniques.

And he probably also won't like what Steve has next in stock. Warren was a little careless the last time around, tongue loosend by sweet kisses and a hand around his dick, when he spoke about a securicar delivering important IAA files soon. It won't hurt 14 but it would definitely aid Steve an awful lot, so he decided to send the boys on the road again, maybe on Tuesday.

The production team's van rolls up next to him and they swarm around him like a stock of bees buzzes around their queen and then there's sound and light checks being run and a woman applies powder to his face. Lamar Davis has not moved a single step. Their eyes meet.

"What are you idiots doing here?", he hollers. Steve wonders if he could be of use.

"We're shooting a show", he replies, while the attach a little microphone to his collar, "The Underbelly of Paradise, you surely have already seen an episode or two."

"You're that Haines-guy then?", something in Lamar's voice makes his skin crawl, his files told Steve that he too is a gangster after all, killing and robbing are some of Davis' favourites. The look he shoots him isn't much friendlier.

"In the flesh", Steve dusts of the sleeves of his polo shirt.

"Yeah, aight. Fuck you then, man. C'mon Chop, we best be leavin', homie. Imma take you back to Frank's crib", oh, there is something in Lamar's voice that Steve definitely doesn't like at all but he just smiles politely at the man, until he's around the corner and out of sight. Steve's smile drops.

"Can we hurry this up a little, people? I don't got all day!" The bees start buzzing again.

_

The raid on the Humane goes by easier than expected. They are in Warren's living room, as the news inform about the incident. Steve is just pouring himself another glass of wine and Warren looks at him.

He knows, that the other one knows. It's a cover story the IAA will buy, but not Warren. Pain shoots through his legs as he slowly makes his way towards the sofa.

Warren mouths a few words at him. Be careful. Steve nods and leans over, places a soft kiss on his shoulder.

"Learned from the best", he whispers and Warren jerks.

"What?", there's panic in his voice.

"The Rashkovsky Job? The breakout and then his research goes missing?"

Warren blinks at him in disbelief.

"So, did he let you know if he likes it in South America?"

They laugh and Steve feels light, his fingertips tingle with it.

_

Steve's on his balcony. There's a saxophonist a few meters down the road, playing some Sinatra pieces and the music wraps itself around him like a blanket. The musician's interpretation reaks of melancholy and reminds Steve of the golden days of Vinewood cinema, noir films and cigarette smoke. Musicians playing at street corners isn't something foreign in a city where everyone has dreams of being the next big national superstar, but Steve usually hates him with his guts. This one's different. It touches him and he finds himself enjoying the dark, warm tunes that float through the cool air. It will be autumn soon and Steve's glad that the heat will be gone.

Warren watches him from the inside, leaning against the kitchen counter, lips curled in a smile.

_

Steve has always hated Michael's bloated and ugly, fat face and now he even gets to point a gun at it. It feels like his birthday and christmas fall on the same day.

"They know or they think they know that I'm the one that was behind the incident."

They stare each other into the ground, guns raised. Steve's ready to fire, has been from the minute Townley walked onto the plaza for the first time.

"Put the weapons down, boys. Fun time's over!", Steve wants to sigh. This is not happening. And then they are suddendly surrounded by their own man Sanchez has sent and then fucking Merryweather's there, too. This is not fucking happening. And so he does the only thing he's always been good at.

"We all know you Agency boys are balls deep in a plot to drive up your fundings by any means necessary", he shouldn't have said that. Warren trusted him with that info, even showed him the intel. He sees something moving behind Agent ULP's eyes, it's fear. He's got him.

Suddendly there's a loud pop and then pain shooting through his left leg. "Same goddamn leg", he blurts out as hell starts to break loose around him. Sanchez blood sprays the concrete in a bright red as the bullet pierces his skull. Steve wishes it would've been Michael instead.

He runs until he can't take the pain no more, then cowers on the ground, slowly robbing behind cover, as Dave and Michael pick up the gun fight. He's bleeding heavily, red liquid rushing out of the wound and drenching his cargos. It seems like the bullet is stuck and maybe has wounded some arteries. He figures that he probably hasn't that much time left. He strips himself out of his shirt and wraps it around his leg, adding pressure on his thigh, just above the bullet wound.

He thinks about Warren. Oh dear God, don't let me die today.

_

"What did you do?", it's Warren, he's sitting at Steve's kitchen table.

"Did you let yourself in, pretty boy?"

"What happend?", he sounds furious now, gets up and his eyes bore into Steve's. He's dizzy with it, with what Warren's gaze tells him, let's him know without saying a word.

"Nothing, it's nothing."

"You got shot!"

"Yeah, the same leg."

"That's - you're-"

Steve wraps his arms around him and presses him close and Warren releases a surprised noise. "I'm still here", he says and it's more for and to himself, than for Warren but the other doesn't seem to care, burying his face in Steve's neck.

The world's a little brighter and warmer and Steve doesn't feel that threatend anymore. He has to make a phone call, but that can wait a few more minutes.

_

He has a team on the way to the plant, it will be alright. They'll be gone for good, just another casualty. He sighs, takes a deep breath and throws the script on the seat across from him.

"Are the cameras rolling? Yes? How do I look, the chin's sharp?"

Warren looks at him, eyes still a little hazy from his last orgasm and Steve turns his head and looks at him. He's so pretty and Steve's heart misses a beat.

"I-", his voice breaks and Warren blinks.

"Yeah?"

"I hate you."

Warren laughs. It's deep and dripping with amusement, running down Steve's body like hot honey. He rolls himself over, on top of Warren, who's still laughing deep in his chest, burying a hand in Steve's blond hair.

"No. No, you don't."

They look at each other and their gazes turn soft. "Sometimes I do", Steve's voice is quiet, honesty seeping through his words, "But sometimes I-, I would burn the world down to protect you."

Warren's hand caresses his neck. "My life would be so very boring without you, Haines. It nearly makes me forget that I just really want to skin you alive, sometimes."

It's not really an I love you - I love you too, but it's as close as they can get without hurting their egos. The kiss is soft and sweet and a promise.

"Hi, I'm Steve Haines. I've tracked down killers, attacked incompetence and taken down terrorist cells, and tonight -"

The gunshot rips through the night and the camera man throws himself back, lands unpleasently on his back.

"My god! The guy! What's-his-name! Fuck, shit, they shot him!", he stares down at the dead man, blood rushing out of the bullet wound in the back of his head. The impact had torn some skin and skull apart and there's a nasty opening, his brain leaks out of it. The camera man vomits out of the gondola as sirens erupt in the night.

_

Warren has his feet up on the coffee table, mindlessly zapping through the programs. It's all shallow and boring and he hopes that Steve will be home soon. Home.

His stomach does a funny little flip and Warren smiles to himself, wraps the blanket around him tighter. It smells of him, his perfume. He closes his eyes and he can practically feel Steve's hand creeping around his neck, resting on his shoulder, heavy and warm. It's always like that, when he comes in on Warren sitting on the sofa. He will lean down and place a feather light kiss on the back of his head, maybe rest his nose there for a moment, taking the other man's scent in for a few seconds, before getting up again and ranting about Norton or another colleague. A fuzzy warmth spreads in his stomach and Warren sighs. A sudden noise interrupts his daydreaming and he lazily opens an eye at the TV. It's a Weazle Broadcast.

"We interrupt our nightly program for an important message. We just recieved notice that FIB Special Agent Steve Haines has been shot on duty at the Del Pierro Pier. Agent Haines died a hero, doing what he loved, which was presenting a TV show. He helped combine the chaos of anti-terrorism and the mindlessness of network television into one highly successful career. Mr. Haines, who was not married, leaves behind his mother."

The world goes silent.

_

He's not moving. Has not in hours, maybe it's even a full day at this point. He has not eaten, has not showered, has not moved at all.

Warren feels like a dead man. The thought makes a bitter laugh splutter over his lips and then has him break out in tears immediately after.

It's a scary thought that people continue to live their lives, acknowledging that an agent passed away last night but they are now out and about, at their jobs, maybe seeing friends or family. A lover, even. They are busy living their life's while Warren's just dissolved in a matter of seconds.

It's a scary thought being ripped off of something so dear so abruptly, it's scary how it ripped a hole it Warren's chest that is now filled with a black, emotionless but equally painful void that nags, tears and claws at him.

It's a scary thought that he's alone again.

His body, his throat gives in and he's rolling on his side, screaming and tearing at the blanket, fingers grabbing at the fabric, as his knuckles turn white. He's screaming and screaming and screaming until his throat is sore and his eyes burn and the only noises that leave his mouth are little pathetic whines of exhaustion and the gasping for air. The pain in his chest takes his breath away, chokes him and makes him want to curl up, bore a knife into it, twist and turn it until it goes away. He feels like vomiting.

_

It's Sunday. It's been a little over 30 hours. Warren is tired, but everytime he tries to close his eyes he sees him, hears his laughter ring in his ears. It hurts. It hurts so much, he has hardly any words left to describe the agony he is going through.

His head hurts too, so does his throat and his stomach, with the constant throwing up and the lack of hydration. But he can't bring himself to get up, to grab a glass of water and drown some pain killers and go to bed. His legs are heavy and he just doesn't have the energy.

Warren feels like dying but he's also so painfully alive.

_

He's wide awake. He'll need to find a solution for how he's going to be able to go to work tomorrow.

But for now he's wrapping himself in Steve's blanket, the one he sleeps in when he's been over, inhaling the fading scent.

_

"Agent 14?"

His eyes are red, bloodshot and his fingers are trembling, seconds away from shaking. He had powder this morning to just make it somehow and it's slowly wearing off. He hasn't been on coke since college and it sent him on a murder high, blood pumping like a race horse only to now let him dive head-first into a killer hole.

It's been three days since Steve left his life both, quiet and eardrum-tearing loudly, and it feels like a nightmare, eternal and burning hot. He's empty inside but there's also just so much pain, it feels like he's breaking into pieces. His stomach clenches and his heartbeat is heavy, vibrates thickly in his chest and he just wants to die, too.

"Mrs. Rackham", his voice is rough, it doesn't bother to hide that Warren had been crying and screaming his lungs out every night since Steve's brain had been splattered onto the ferris wheel.

"I need to talk to you."

This is about Avon and Clifford, he's sure. His hand shakes and coffee spills on his desk. He curses under his breath and reaches for a tissue but Mrs. Rackham grabs his hand with force. They look at each other. Warren blinks.

"You are not in a good condition. I don't need explanations or lies, 14. I want to offer you my sincere condolences on your loss, Mister Jones. "

Warren takes a deep breath but he can't keep his eyes from tearing up.

"Take the week off, Agent", as he's not moving, shocked and dumbfounded, she starts to pick his jacket up, "Go now, I'll cover you up."

He gets on his feet, knees weak and body shaking, takes his jacket from her hands.

"Thank you, Phoenicia", he means it.

She looks at him. "I'm sorry", and she means it, too, "The IAA could've done some-"

"Don't."

She nods sharply and then looks at him once more, eyes piercing.

"I lost my husband in service as well, Iraq in 2004."

And then they're hugging, Warren is burrying his face into her neck and wailing like a little child.

_

It's a weird feeling and it fucks with his head as his gaze falls on the door of his apartment. He could've sworn that he heard the key turning the lock. He stares and stares and stares and it feels like his brain is readying for Steve to come through the door anytime.

He doesn't.

_

It's midnight and he had five more moments like the door-lock one earlier. He feels like he may go insane.

Warren fumbles for his phone on the nightstand and opens up Eyefind, types his thoughts into the searchbar.

At the end of his research he's left with two possibilities: it's either a stage of grief (denial they call it - dying's more fitting, Warren thinks) or the sideeffects of the coke slowly wearing off.

_

It's raining. It's like the heavens above are pissing down on him. Warren's crying while the rain relentlessly pounds on his umbrella.

He's standing a few meters away from the funeral party. Steve's mother bails her eyes out and he would like to go over to her and wrap her im his arms but he would just be a stranger to her.

There's a saxophonist in front of the cementry. He's playing Sinatra's Summer Wind, sounding sad but warm nonetheless. Steve's family probably thinks of that as a weird coincidence but Warren has spent two full nights finding the man again, who has played down at Steve's street corner all those months ago. It was difficult and time consuming, but not impossible.

There's a new wave of tears making their way out of Warren's eyes and he has to clasp a hand on his mouth to stop the painful noises from making their way into the soft air of spring. He feels like he's breaking apart, torn into two pieces.

He cries and cries and cries until the funeral party is long gone any the sun sets. The saxophonist is still playing.

_

When Warren comes home the sun's gone for some while and it's dark out. There's a light burning in his kitchen. For a moment, just a split second, it feels like Steve will swing around the corner. But he doesn't.

He walks into the kitchen to find a bouquet of white lillies sitting on the countertop. He checks the card attached to them.

Sorry about your loss.

He doesn't recognize the handwriting, it looks like it could've been written by someone who's older than Warren, male maybe, but his last Hand Writing and Letter Indentification Course was two years ago. He figures his cleaner, a nice elderly lady, had put them there. He thinks about her seeing the bouquet on the door step and carefully carrying them inside, placing them in the only vase Warren has at home. It makes him both sad and glad, glad that at least she's still around.

_

In three words I can sum up everything I've learned about life: it goes on.

14 would've liked to ask Robert Frost if he was just stupid or naive or both.

_

Two days later he's so angry at the world that he grabs the vase and throws it across the room, where it collides with the wall and breaks in a thousand little pieces.

_

The anger keeps on coming, rage that boils hot and white in his stomach, makes him lash out at colleagues and scream his lungs out, throwing things and fits like it's nothing.

He finds himself beating into walls and furniture until his knuckles bleed.

Mrs. Rackham puts him onto another break, Temporarily Suspended Until Further Notice the record reads.

_

Warren's awake, restless but exhausted, again. It's three in the morning. His head hurts, his bones hurts, his whole body feels heavy.

"I should've stopped you from going", he whispers into the night and his mind conjurs up Steve's voice, consoling him.

"No, really. I should have been more persistent. If you just would've stayed with me that night."

Steve answers him again, but it sounds washed out in Warren's ear.

Oh, please don't let me forget his voice.

_

He's not moving again. Hasn't done so in two days.

Mrs. Rackham continues to call him, but he won't pick up. He can't handle her, can't handle her sorrow and her advices. He doesn't want to hear it. She would probably also bug him about not showing up for work again and that's just something he really doesn't want to hear right now.

It's phone rings again and he picks it up to throw it against the wall with all the force he can possibly muster, so it would just shut up, but it's not Phoenicia calling this time. It's Lester.

"14? This is Crest." He doesn't sound good. Warren doesn't know what to say.

"I am, ehrm, calling to see how you're doing?" Odd. He can't bring himself to say anything back. "You know I, err, saw you didn't clock in to work for a few days? Are you doing, ehrm, well?"

"Yeah", it sounds as broken as he feels. There's an uncomfortable silence on the other end of the line for a few seconds, maybe even for a full minute. He hears Lester's inhaler.

"I, well I err heard about Haines."

It should send him into a rage, a fit, maybe even crying manically but there's just nothing. Just the casual numbness that hangs above him like thick clouds these days.

"Yeah, a shame, isn't it?"

There's coughing, then deep breaths being taken. "You're not doing too well, Crest?"

"Can we meet up, 14? I", another cough, "I know a place."

_

The sun's out and it burns in Warren's eyes, on his skin, even though he's wearing both, a jacket and sunglasses. Crest sits across from him at the table, not touching his iced coffee. So isn't Warren, he is neither thirsty nor hungry.

They are at a bean machine on Vinewood Boulevard. It's one of the stores Steve used to buy his coffee at. There should be stining pain at the thought but there's just sadness, blackness wandering through Warren's mind.

"You don't look too good", Crest says.

"You neither", Warren says and to mask the shaking of his voice he takes a sip from the coffee. It tastes like nothing, like liquid paper.

"I don't feel to good either. But you also don't, so what's the matter, 14."

Warren just shrugs. Lester looks at him, a steady and stern gaze, as if he's looking for answers in Warren's eyes, in his fucking soul.

"What are we doing here?"

"Just looking after a, err, friend."

"We're not friends, Crest."

"Associates then, maybe?", the look on his face is a little sad, offended. Warren can't bring himself to care.

"Yeah, whatever."

"Any lead, yet?"

Warren lifts his eyebrows in suprise. "A lead?"

"Yeah, you know", Crest clears his throat and leans in a little, "Who did it, you know."

Maybe Warren's mind is playing tricks on him again, but Crest looks a little concerned.

"No, none. Nothing."

Crest nods and leans back. Lester doesn't offer his help, so Warren decides that he then won't ask for it. Still confused and mouth already opened he wants to know why, as Lester's lungs throw a fit, his body cramping and being thrown forward and then back again by his dry coughs. Warren's up on his feet in a matter of seconds, his heartbeat picking up a fast rate he hasn't feeled in weeks, adrenaline rushing through his veins. He grabs Lester by his shoulders and holds him up, while he coughs coughs coughs. At the end of it there's blood on his chin.

"You're not planing on dying as well, are you?"

The look Lester shoots him, slumped in his chair with other guests on the terrace staring at them in shock, makes Warren's skin crawl.

_

He hasn't been at an attorney's office ever. It's a weird experience.

The people are nice and calm and so is Mister Allan, who has Steve's testament laying in front of him.

"So, Mister Jones, shall we get started then?"

Warren nods. It still confuses him. He wonders what Steve's mother thought, when she heard that she won't inherit everything. Warren doesn't want money, money won't replace anything.

He must've said that out loud, because Allan chuckles.

"Mister Haines hasn't left you money. No need to worry, Mister Jones."

He leaves the office with a black box tucked safely under his arm. He doesn't open it, not in the office, not on the way out in the elevator, not at home. He tucks it away in his closet, deep down where he keeps a ski puffer, that he never wears anyways.

_

He finds himself talking to Steve, or what his mind conjurs up of his memories, more often. It helps him, or so he hopes.

He misses him and the soliloquy is a good substitute, at least for now.

_

They are at a clinic just above the hills and behind the Vinewood sign, far away from the city, the air is dry and crisp nonetheless. Lester sits in a wicker chair, wrapped in a blanket and stares at the fountain in the middle the perfectly trimmed meadow. Warren sits next to him, craving a cigarette, but not lighting one. He'll have to wait a couple more minutes, until the nurse will bring Lester back into the clinic.

"Thank you for stopping by", Crest means it.

"Am I the only one?"

"No, oh no. There's, ehrm, Franklin's coming over too, once or twice a week."

He looks better, rested. Warren doesn't know who Franklin is, but he nods politely anyways.

"That's nice."

"Yeah, he's a good kid." A crook then.

"Are they treating you well up here?"

"It's fine, I- argh, fuck it. The dinner's horrible but the doctor's are good enough. Won't make a difference anyways."

"That's what they're saying then?", Warren looks into the setting sun. From up here Los Santos seems peaceful, quiet, a big, glorious and shining city. It's a hell hole full of shit, Warren knows that now, but he can't leave. Not yet.

"Yeah. No. They don't say it, but they mean it. It's in their eyes." Lester takes a sip of his water.

"Don't say that, Crest."

Lester looks at him. He doesn't say it, but the look on his face says it all. You've been through enough, I won't tell you that I'm dying soon.

"Yeah, well, it was nice seeing you. Getting better and such", Warren gets up, the wicker creaking, his phone in hand and sunglasses back on. They look at each other for a long, quiet moment and then Warren nods, turns around to leave. A surprisingly strong hand grabs his arm.

"I have a project, it's happening right now, Warren."

He stops in his tracks. From somewhere behind the fountain laughter sweeps up the hill. There's an old lady on the meadow with their grandchildren and they're playing ball. She has a bandage around her head.

"A project?", Warren doesn't turn around.

"Yeah, I'd like you to take over. You need something to do."

"I still have a job, Crest."

"That reminds you of him." It's like a kick into his guts and there's sudden rage boiling inside of him, but there's also something else. A certain calmness, that wraps itself around his shoulders like a white blanket. T feels a lot like clarity.

"That it does, yeah."

"I'll have Paige bring you the details."

"Sure. Good night, Crest."

He walks over the little path out of bark mulch, that is overgrown by trees, back to his car. He feels oddly content.

_

See, life does goes on. It's a weird thought that strikes him out of nowhere. He's afraid of forgetting everything that was, since forgetting always seemed easy. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next week but who knows what will be in a year? Maybe he'll catch himself sooner or later, not thinking about Steve for a few weeks, months, years.

He's afraid of that, sincerely so.

_

The air in the bunker is cold and damp. Some of his people are moving out the old equipment. He doesn't know Crest's newest associate, it's most likely no one from the Hertz/Clifford-Incident.

I'm sorry I called him a buffoon, if I had only known back then.

He thinks of Phoenicia's concerned face and suddendly he finds himself smiling.

"Oh, he was a buffoon, you weren't wrong, Ma'am", he says to himself and hears a quiet chuckle errupting from his chest. There's sadness floading him, but it's warm and sweet and feels like an old friend.

There's no time for tears as the door of the bunker suddendly beeps loudly, informing him of a visitor arriving.

_

"So, you're getting along, then?", Crest sounds better. Warren lets go a breath, he doesn't even know he held in the first place.

"Yeah. They are quiet, but I appreciate the effort they are putting into it."

"I told you, they're are reliable."

"So you did."

There's a long pause, silence.

"Listen, Crest. I gotta go, speak to you soon."

As he hangs up, he's confronted with his lie, standing alone in his quiet living room.

_

The next time Lester invites him over, he says yes. He lives in a bigger, cleaner house now and Warren can only guess, that he was indeed involved in the robbery at the Casino his team is trying to solve right now. He'll offer them a false trace. Maybe they'll pick that one up.

"Georgina's not home, you just missed her", Lester wobbles down the stairs to the living room, crutch in hand.

"Who?"

"Georgina, he lives with her", Warren looks up, from where he is securing Lester's arm with his own hand and looks into the face of a young man. He looks younger than himself and wears expensive street style clothing.

"Who are you?"

"That's Franklin, Warren. Franklin, that's the friend I've been telling you about."

"Pleasure", Warren's voice still on the edge, while the man's handshake is firm.

"You lost your man, dog? Lest been telling me."

"I did, eight months ago."

There's something moving behind Franklin's face but he's quick to cover it up. Warren wonders: what and why.

"Shame man, I'm sorry to hear that, homie. My girl left me, too."

"He didn't leave me. He died."

Franklin looks at Lester, confused and a little reproachful, too. Then, it seems to click, as Franklin looks at him again. He now looks a little terrified, actually.

"Franklin was just leaving anways, weren't you?", Crest sits down in a beige armchair. Warren notices that he has new glasses.

"Yeah, shit. I mean of course, I was on my way out. Nice meeting you man, I hope you're, you know, doing better soon. See you around."

"Thank you", Warren recieves an awkward pat on his shoulder and then Franklin's steps distance themselves, until the front door falls shut.

_

He didn't leave me. He died.

His own words echo in his skull but they don't throw him into a manic tantrum, he's not crying, not screaming. He's oddly calm.

Is this how it feels, when one comes to terms with something, he wonders. Maybe, it is.

He died.

That he did and it must've been fucking ugly. Blood and soupy brain everywhere. Warren wishes he could've held him during these moments, when the body is slowling shutting down, when something mysterious, unknown happens to the human consciousness.

He died.

And Warren had missed him every single day since then. He leans himself against the closed bedroom door of his apartment and then makes his way to his closet.

The box is still where he has left it.

He died. He died. He died.

"I miss you, Steve", he whispers into the silence of his flat and then he smiles, it's small and sad, and he sinks onto the ground, box clutched in his hands, "Fuck, I wish you were still here."

There's silence but Warren likes to think that something of Steve's mind, his soul is still left on this earth, stayed with him. It's a nice thought, even if it's unrealistic. It's still consoling.

Steve's gone for good, but just because his body doesn't walk the dirty streets of LS anymore doesn't mean that he left Warren's life completely - he still existed, left his footprints behind. And Warren's ready, willing even, to take carefully aligned pictures of them and hang them on his wall. He's ready to look at them every day that may come and maybe he'll stop crying at some point. Or maybe he won't. He'll be fine.

It's an odd feeling. His life still feels empty, incomplete since Steve passed and so does Warren. He feels empty, shallow and sad, but it will pass and he will take the time. It doesn't mean forgetting him, quite the contrary maybe.

He flips the lid, puts it aside carefully with a quiet thump on the carpet below. He takes a look inside and bursts out laughing.

_

"Did he leave you something?", he hasn't seen her in years, since college. She used to be his flat mate.

"Yeah", he smiles to himself.

"What is it?", she looks moved and Warren would love to tell her, but he can't. He really can't. Not all of it, anyways.

"A letter."

"A letter?"

"Yeah, a fucking love letter."

"Warren! Don't say that! It's very heartwarming!"

It's been a year. He still misses him. "He wasn't the type for it, that's all."

He thinks of the envelope he keeps in his safe. It's a document, FIB header and logo, completely official.

Reference: Counter Espionage, Crimes Against National Safety, A Report By Steve Haines to be handed to Misses Phoenicia Rackham In Relation "To Agent 14", Mister Warren Jones

"Oh, was he not, you know, a little a romantic?"

"No, it must've taken a lot for him to write a love letter." It was really sweet and it went well with the attempt to put Warren in a High Security Penitentiary.

"Really?", she looks a little concerned, but she doesn't get Steve, their relationship as it was, like Warren does.

He looks up from his coffee cup and lights a cigarette. He hasn't had a smoke in a long time but at least he stopped with the cocaine.

"Yeah. Sometimes", there's a smile tugging at his lips, "Sometimes I think he would've rather seen me locked away."

[i-need-entertainment]

Mother-in-Law

Character: Adriah Thomas x reader I recommend listening to Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You by Frankie Valli (you will see why~)

(ALSO, idk if it is *Tomas* or *Thomas* but the fandom wiki thingy said ‘Thomas’ was the proper English translation so I went with that ;)

Warnings: Problematic/overbearing mother-in-law, mean words said by mother-in-law, reader having self doubt/being pressured, angst but then fluff.

I hope this is okay Anon! I took a different approach with this one. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR REQUESTING HIM! You made me so so happy to have chosen ~Thomas~ because I am in love with him. Also, thank you very much for requesting!! :)

It’s been 4 months since you had officially become Mrs. Adriah Thomas. And in all honesty, things were going pretty well! Your wedding had gone very smoothly; Inunaki had been the best man, Meian and Barnes cried, and having the MSBY four™ as the other groomsmen is always guaranteed to be…interesting. All in all, life was going pretty great! There was just one problem. One everlasting thorn in your side. Your mother-in-law. 

She had never been a big fan of yours and you can’t exactly say you loved her either. When you and Adriah had been dating she had been nothing but callous towards you. No one was good enough for her son, and she made sure you knew that. You did everything you could to be liked by her, I mean you were a good girlfriend, and now you were a good wife! You made her son very happy and you took good care of him. But it didn’t matter, because at the end of the day you married her precious son, and you could never be good enough in her eyes. Tonight would be a dreaded date. It was the second Tuesday of the month, meaning you and Adriah had his parents over for dinner. Adriah wasn’t stupid, he knew you and his mom didn’t get along, and he completely understood! I mean, having been raised by her he knew first hand how…difficult…she could be. But, she was still his mom who he loved very much. To try and avoid future conflicts, you guys had talked it through (communication is key!) and come to a compromise. You would do your best to get along with his mom, but if she was still being difficult you guys would let it go and keep trying. Currently the two of you were cooking dinner together in the kitchen, which was something the two of you often did. You were sautéing some vegetables when you felt two strong arms wrap tightly around you, you then felt Adriah’s head touch itself into your neck. He continued to sing the song the two of you had playing in the back ground; “Can’t Take My Eyes Off of You” by Frankie Valli. You smiled and sung along with him; it had been your wedding song after all. The vegetables were done cooking so you turned off the burner and moved the pan to the side, Adriah quickly but carefully spun you towards him, putting one arm around your waist and the other delicately holding your hand. You laughed as you put your other hand on the arm that was holding your waist. (Yes, typically it would be around his neck, but the man is 6’7. I’m 5’9 and I’m not sure I could reach his neck!!) “Are you thinking about tonight again?” You looked up at your husband before you laid your head on his chest, “I just- I want to get along with her, I do! But she makes it so difficult. I just, I don’t know what to do anymore.” He smiled as he leaned down, putting his forehead against yours as you both continued to sway to the song. “There’s not really anything we can do…just try and keep the peace.” When the song finished the two of you got back to work on dinner. You had just finished when the doorbell rang. “Honey can you get the door? I can finish up in here.” Adriah nodded, gave you a quick kiss and went to unlock the door letting in his parents. They came in and greeted their son, his dad giving him a strong hug and his mother practically smothering him. His dad came into the kitchen and greeted you; he had always been very nice to you. (it was clear which of his parents Adriah took after..) While his mother passed by, gave you a fake smile and very enthusiastically said hello. “Dinner will be ready in about five minutes, so you guys can go ahead and sit at the table if you’d like.” They nodded and headed into the dining room. Just about 5 minutes later dinner was ready and you took it into the dining room. 15 minutes had gone by, 15 peaceful minutes, “So, Y/n, are you still working?” 15 whole minutes. But she just HAD to ruin it. You put on a smile, albeit forced, and nodded. You and Adriah met at work; the MSBY Black Jackals. You worked as the Exercise Physiologist for MSBY (an Exercise Physiologist is like a physical therapist *but with less schooling* combined with an athletic trainer, they’re really cool and I might do this as a career…) which just so happens to be how you met Adriah. This had been one of the many conflicts you had had with your mother-in-law. She thought you should stay home and be a house wife…since Adriah already made quite a bit of money being a professional player, and a very good one at that. “I am, yes.” She hummed, sounding less than impressed as per usual. “So, when are the two of you going to have your first child?” You choked on your food as Adriah’s dad handed you some water, “Mom! We’ve been married for 4 months!” She raised an eye brow at her son. “And…? You both are quite old already. By the time I was your age I was done having you and your siblings.” You held your tongue. You and Adriah were 27, and to some it may seem like you had waited a long time to get married, when in reality it had only been 3 years. You guys had gotten married when you both felt ready, and while you both wanted children and a family, you wanted to wait at least a year until you more seriously thought about it!! “You know, you’re not getting any younger Y/n, your body is on a clock after all. If you wait too long to have children, you won’t be able to have them at all, then what kind of wife would you be?” The table went silent. She tended to have that effect on occasions like this one. You stood up, “Please excuse me, I’m not feeling well.” And walked into yours and Adriah’s bedroom, shutting the door before you sat on the edge of the bed, tears finally breaking free and rolling down your cheeks. If there was one thing you disliked the most about your mother-in-law was the fact that she always managed to find the things that hurt; and then exploit them, even if you never said them out loud. One of the things you had been stressing over is exactly what she had brought up, ‘Am I a good wife…?’ You did your best to be the best spouse you could, you always made sure you communicated your feelings and listened when Adriah communicated his, you did your best to spend personal time with him as well as giving each other space and the list goes on. Yet whenever she comes, you always felt like you were never good enough. ‘What kind of wife can’t even get along with her husband’s mother?!’ You tried not to doubt, you did! But it was so hard when she was constantly reminding you of your “downfalls” even if there wasn’t a problem with how you were doing things! You loved and cared for her son, what more could she want?! *Knock knock* A knock at the door disrupted you from your thoughts. “Y/n…? It’s Adriah, can I come in?” You wiped your tears the best you could, took a deep breath and spoke a small, ‘yeah’. He opened the door and gave you a soft smile, walking over to kneel in front of you. “Dad took mom home, he sent his best regards.” You laughed a little, “He’s so sweet, I wonder where you got that from.” He lightly chuckled as he used his fingers to wipe the tears from your face, his usual smile turning into a frown. “…You’re not a bad wife.” You nodded, “You’re my best friend, and I couldn’t be happier to spend the rest of my life with you.” You nodded. “Y/n,” You looked up from the floor into your husband’s beautiful dark eyes. He got up from the floor and sat beside you on the bed, turning just enough so he could pull you to sit in his lap, strong arms holding you securely to his chest as his heartbeat soothed you. The two of you sat in silence for a while, enjoying the comfort you both got from being in the other’s embrace. “…I’m sorry….I’m sorry for doubting…I’m sorry for ruining tonight…” Adriah smiled as he shook his head, pulling away slightly so he could look you in the eyes. “Why? You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s okay to be upset; especially after that just don’t hide it from me, then I can’t help you. And you definitely didn’t ruin dinner, it was long gone before you walked out.” You laughed, snuggling further into your tall husband. “You’re just too good to be true~ Can’t take my eyes off of you~” He started to sing the song again as you giggled, him wrapping his arms around you even tighter as he began to sway the two of you. “NO I’m trying to be sad, you’re not helping!” You joked as he laughed, standing up as he started dancing around the room, you desperately trying to catch up. “You’d be like heaven to touch,” He paused to give you a big kiss on the cheek, “I wanna hold you so much” You smiled as you finally managed to match his pace, deciding to sing along, “At long last, love has arrived, and I thank God I’m alive,” You pulled away from his embrace to look him in the eyes, him giving the back of your hand a kiss as he continued to hold it. So yes, you had a pretty terrible mother-in-law, and no you don’t know when that will change. But until it does you know your wonderful, adorable, loving husband will always be there for you. “You’re just too good to be true~ Can’t take my eyes off of you~”