#where I had to be nice to people and in customer service mode all day!

[historicalbooknerd]

Hate how society has somehow deemed being not available, but also not doing anything else “important” as an indicator that something is seriously wrong. Just because I am not doing anything else doesn’t mean that I am automatically available to talk and hang out with, and just because I want to be alone doesn’t mean that anything is wrong. I’m an introvert! I like and I thrive having alone time! Not wanting to have a 2 hour+ conversation at 9 pm when I worked my customer-facing job for 8 hours earlier doesnt mean that I’m two seconds away from having a mental breakdown, it means that I want to just hang out alone and play video games without having to pause every two seconds to respond to the latest text!

Am I not allowed to be alone without people assuming that I’m mentally not okay? Does solitude and enjoying the company of ones self make someone insane?

[missamyrisa2]

have you seen these places that offer tickles now? would you ever go to one?

Sooo~ I have actually been to one of these places.

I don't want my tumblr to come up with a search on their name, so I'll just say it was the Tickle (rhymes with Car).

I had an appointment there a while ago, while I was traveling through the area. I was very much in boy mode. So, the crazy tickle teaser Miss Amy Risa did not descend upon the Tickle Car.

The reason I don't want to directly link myself to them is because they run a legitimate personal service business for people who want a little touch therapy. The whole "tickle" aspect of it isn't exactly wrong, but it's not what we generally think of when it comes to tickling. Some people say tickle and they mean like drawing a finger over someone's face to help them sleep. This is very much that sort of connotation. All the sort of ~feathery~ aspects of their promotional material is just having fun with making it sound like a naughty thing. You can't go there and get strapped down and tickled mercilessly.

The atmosphere is very drapey and pink and relaxing. My appointment was at the end of the day and I was the only client in the building. I was face down on the table with my top off, and my technician who was very sweet (though to be fair I melt to pieces for anyone who compliments my hair >//<) used some light airy pink feathers, her fingers, and some brushes to gently draw down my back from shoulders to the small. She was intentionally avoiding higher sensitivity zones like the sides and neck and back underarms, and was using a level of touch like massage therapists do who are trying to avoid a big tickle. Before we started she said most of her clients fall asleep during a session. I said I would probably giggle, and I did most of the time which I think was slightly off-putting for her.

It was a nice session~! But it wasn't a tickling session and for the premium they charge I don't know if I'd be going regularly if I lived in the area. Personally, I get more touch therapy bliss going to the salon and having my hair washed & conditioned. Maybe other places are more open to doing like tickle tickles, but my impression is they're really just a touch therapy/light massage place like the Tickle Car. Which is awesome~! I love that places are doing this for anyone who is touch starved.

It's just not the dream we all have of a place where you can stroll in and get tickled to bits for an hour~

(In varying scenarios care of the rooms dedicated to expanding famous tickle scenes including costuming for the ticklers, or custom designed scenarios using a variety of equipment and tools and outfits or lack thereof~)

[thetreetopinn]

Businesses have found it is far more profitable to work in components with more potential failure modes. Doubly so if in doing this, you render the end-user unable to enact any kind of quick and easy fix.

No, you have to call a certified technician to come out and open the box to look at the thing, only to find out the thing needs a new thing, and the only way to get that new thing is to go through the manufacturer because they are the only ones that make that thing. Sure, you could go to a third-party thing-maker, but odds are good it will be of inferior quality and you will need to replace the thing that much sooner because it has more common failure modes.

Gone are the days of giving people the option to fix things themselves, or just making something that fucking lasts.

Case in point: The Instant Pot.

When the pandemic hit, the Instant Pot was a HUGE SMASH SUCCESS. People were going NUTS over the Instant Pot. Instant Brands (the maker of the Instant Pot) was catapulted into stratospheric profits. Now, they're filing for bankruptcy. What happened? They made the Instant Pot too good. It's too reliable, too affordable, and doesn't have enough failure modes. They are a victim of their own success--especially since they were able to rapidly and easily scale up production to meet demand. They saturated their own market, and without another way for them to generate regular revenue... well... they started to decline.

Other brands came online with their own pressure cookers, eating into market share. I myself bought a Crock Pot brand pressure cooker because it was a bigger size, had more settings, and I liked that the cooking vessel was non-stick. Sales dropped off to a point where Instant Brands could not sustain itself. Because the system has become such that you must keep your customers constantly coming back.

You can't just make a good product and that's it. It would be nice if that were the case. But with how the market works now, I would not be one fucking bit surprised if some asshole techbro brain genius douchebag tries to buy up Instant Brand just to 'update' the technology by making it connect to your phone or some shit... then implement some kind of subscription service to make the business "sustainable".

You watch. Someone somewhere out there will start selling a pressure cooker subscription service like Hello Fresh or whatever. You subscribe, they send you the ingredients, you dump them into the pressure cooker, and it produces a meal. And there will be people who will go fucking nuts for it.

I'm genuinely concerned about the subscription-based food services. I'm sure they work great for some cases, but there has to be a balance. I don't want to lose access to certain products in the grocery store because all these subscription services are consuming everything and the only way I can get a fresh tomato anymore is by paying $99 a month to buy however many meals they're supposed to send me.

I know that might seem a little out there... but considering how many of these services there are and how popular they have become, it has left me wondering.

Anyway, go support your local farmers market, and stop buying a brand new phone every fucking year.

[miniaussiemollie]

Blog #7

Day 7

Happy 4th of July!! It’s been a whole week since my travels began, and it has been an amazing trip. Sadly, I will have to venture back to reality soon. I had to ask Susie what they do here for fireworks that might scare Mollie tonight but no fear, Susie says that most Australians do celebrate the American custom of the 4th but mostly gather at the local watering hole (bars) and drink. Most restaurants actually serve American dishes like hot dogs and hamburgers vs the local cuisine. That might be a later this evening event.

For now, we are just going to sit and chat. I have not spent that much time with my cousin. I’m pretty sure Susie is happy to have a day off. It seems all she does is work and be a mom. I had to ask what it was like where she worked, how much differed from the U.S. She says it’s not that much different people go to work, do their job and come home. Most employees do get evenings and weekends off to relax.

When greeting new acquaintances, handshakes are appropriate. When communicating in business type settings, being direct is vital. If not, one may be perceived as evasive and hypocritical. Similar to social situations, Australian business has a very low power distance. Humor in Australia is always acceptable even in business situations where humor is almost expected. Managers and bosses like to be seen as “one of the boys” or more of a friend than a boss. Australians just consider the boss to have a different job and not be superior to the workers. First names are used in all situations unless it is in an academic or medical situation. (https://www.cia.gov)

Susie went on to explain when she moved to Australia and started her new job, everyone was very nice, and patient given the communication barrier but managed to catch on very quickly. They always treated her like she is part of the group. I think that’s great!

At one-point Susie’s youngest fell ill and she had to see her Dr. nothing serious, turned out to be just a bug bite. (yup, the creepy crawlies). Curious to know, I asked Susie what the Australia’s health care system is like. She told me it sits precariously between two principles: universal coverage and personal choice. Australians generally believe everybody should be able to get care, affordably. At the same time, they believe that people who can pay more should be able to get more. Medicare is a national scheme providing Australia and some of its overseas visitors with free or subsidized health services. Australians help to cover its costs through the Medicare levy. Similar to the U.S. however we don’t have Medicare levy. Maybe Australia has a plan we should consider. (https://profile.id.com.)

Questions remain about approaching death in multicultural Australia. These range from whether or not people in identifiable subcultures approach death prematurely (as we know is true of Indigenous Australians, but could, for a variety of reasons, also be true of other ethnic groups) to culturally associated variations in quality as well as modes of dying, and modes of care at the end of life. (https://www.mja.com.au/journal/2003/179/6/approaching-death-multicultural-australia)

The intercultural healthcare-related work in Australia is complex due to all the cultures. To communicate effectively, my friend should take specific cultural training programs to better understand the cultural differences that come with the many different peoples that reside in this land. (Communications between Cultures, Edition 9, pages 373 – 375).

Susie’s daughter was treated and finally recovered from her bug bite in record time. Although not very happy about it as she was enjoying her time off, she had to go back to school. This brought up another thought. How different are the schools here?

Feeling like I was grilling my cousin I hesitated, but then remembered the culture. If you have a question, it’s best to just ask so I did. She responded saying Australia has great levels of participation in early childhood programs. Most participate in early schooling for competition at as earlier timeframe in comparison with other countries. It also has well-prepared teachers and strong school leadership. The school year is divided into four semesters, beginning in January and ending in December, resulting in more term breaks. Despite more breaks, the Australian academic year is longer, around 200 days of school, compared to about 175 days in most of the U.S. states. No wonder little one didn’t want to go back yet. I had to, of course, ask her if she wanted to graduate and be like her mom when she grows up? She just laughed and ran off to play. Susie says that little over half the students graduate and carry on working. That seems like it would hurt the social economics status. The education system in Australia is similar to Great Britian. Children start school early and take few breaks throughout the twelve years of studies. Most graduate while are still young, early teens and go into the workforce either at home or abroad. Not much time to be a child!

As the day grew on and it was getting late, we decided to just stay home and not venture to the nearest watering hole. Having a back-yard BBQ was the perfect plan. Through this whole trip I was still not able to convince Mollie Mae that she is not Australian. Although a great herd puppy, I think I will just let her believe she is special, because she is. I think she had just about as much fun as I did.

[alumort]

at first my job was sooo frustrating but they promoted me from customer service to medical and i actually like it now LOL i even have fun! i dont find it as a chore as before xd

for context im a medical spanish-english interpreter and theres many funny tales, cant go too deep bc of hippa(and bc i literally forgot when these happened too XD) but some are:

me helping out a woman answer the personal info questions for her insurance, she saying her pronoun is "ella"(she/her) and being in auto mode, instead of saying she/her i said "ella" in spanish. the three of us laughed

i had to do a dial out to an old lady, tried 4 times but she didnt reply. client went "can you help me write an email" so hence began a funny scene where i translated the message, and helped her spell it (example- radiology in spanish is radiologia, so id say "radiology but with an i and an a at the end instead of a y" and things like that)

a woman said her husband gave her a cookie. in a latam country(idk which one bc i struggle telling some accents/dialects apart if theyre not from countries neighboring argentina), "cookie" in that context meant that her husband hit her

older people LOVE chitchat but im not allowed to chitchat... tho if i think they Need To Talk or that they just need to relax, i do. they love to ask where im from and one of em even said i sound like a machine; argentinians are the italians of latam and we sound Italian (bc of lots of italian immigration), but i prefer to use a more neutral voice and dialect so more people can understand me. LITERALLY EVERYONE IS SHOCKED WHEN I TELL THEM IM ARGENTINIAN bc i sound like a machine when working.

related to the above, an old man was happy to hear i could work from home and help. and that i have a job bc everyone is aware of the Disaster that my country is in rn. thank you, kind old man!

another man excitedly telling me he wanted to be a french-spanish interpreter! so i told him that he might have luck, but he had to look up online.

my neutral ass voice and dialect literally help ppl calm down xD

i'm still amazed at the amount of people who have diabetes/get pregnant like. theres not been a single day since i got promoted that i havent received both a diabetes and a pregnancy-related call

when i worked in customer service and told people to have a nice day after i was over with interpreting, people were always shocked... i feel so bad bc thats a sign on how shitty people are to customer service employees in usa xd

USA INSURANCES ARE SO CONFUSING AND SCUMMY????????

in the almost 7 months ive been working here only 1 person asked me how i was before starting to translate lol but everyone is nice now that im on medical ^_^

i still confuse a, e, and i when people spell them out to me. PLEASE SAY A AS IN APPLE, E AS IN ECHO, I AS IN ISLAND...... SAVE ME

latine people say god bless you so much LMAO and theyre so thankful to me for helping em out. ive been blessed by god at least a hundred times now

thats all i can think of rn xd it is fun now

[my-life-is-a-sidequest]

what's your experience being a trans woman in Sweden?

personal question I know, feel free to ignore!

If you think you might be trans you should explore it!

there are women who are more out and have been for longer that might be able to answer your question beter also this post got away from me and turned into kind of a rant so beware.

It sucks! like it really does, but (for me at least) its beter than being a man, I honestly think despite everything I've been happier in the last ~year~.

geting on hrt takes forever unless you have money! I was given an estimate of 30-36 monts before a first meeting. but I saw a post on r/transnord that said its now over 3 years. and they have changed the law so you now have to have a note from a therapist to apply to, In my kase Anova trans medicin.

I'm only out to a few people select people. And I boy-mode at work (most of the time in fact) so I dont get a lot of transphobia Irl, but I do get some. mostly I get peuple being not hostile but more weird towards me.

I've been yelled at once when I wore a dress in public and I remember I used to bullied in school for being girly.

mostly its just people doing visible dubble-takes or giving me odd looks.

And I get a lot of: "miss oh sorry sir I thought you where a girl at first" kind of comments, that In the grand scheme of things might not seam that bad but for the fact that I get them all the fucking time.

I had one older customer that brushed up against my ass, while I was working on an display, and called me "missy". And then apologized about how he gendered me but not for trying to grab my ass. And this happened at work; so i'm in full service mode right, and cant say anything. That might just be existing as a woman in public.

It is however an amazing country to be gay/Bi in (or Stockholm is) also they cant legally discriminate against me for being trans: so that is nice.

some days I wish I was stil just some gender-fuck twink, and could just brush it of, but that is not who I am, and I cant.

I dont know; I guess it sucks for everybody everywhere, I'm just having a weird time lately with starting to actually coming out and Everything.

I'm glad I'm transitioning but I wish I didn't have too!

this has been a bit of a rant and probably not what wanted to know. but it was kind of cathartic so thank you for the ask!

[mangodestroyer]

Ig when I read your description of Pern, it reminded me of some weird dystopian AUs I'd come up with as a teen where humanity destroyed civilization and returned to a hunter gatherer state. Or to a prior time period technologically. Obviously these ideas were not well thought out or researched.

Thing is, when I was going to college full time, and only doing that, with no roommates or relationship or work or anything, I was doing just fine, planning out stories and spending much of my free time indulging in entertainment. But after getting my job and going through a bunch of other things, it's been very difficult to get myself engaged in anything. I think I started living in survival mode.

It's not even just the amateurish nature of some fanfic that's off-putting to me. But also just how unrealistic a lot of it is. I can't tolerate it anymore. I know fanfic exists to be a self-indulgent fantasy a lot of the time, but many stories are just a little too unrealistic about the fantasy aspect. For instance, have some of these authors just never been in a relationship before? Have some of them just never gone out into the real world and seen how people really are?

I hate to say it, but those coffeeshop AUs, for instance, just wouldn't happen irl (or if it did, it'd be under very specific/lucky circumstances). That barista would not be happy and energetic enough to care to flirt with some client. At best, they just like being a barista a little bit cause they are related to someone who owns the business, or it's the only job they could get that they could tolerate. There's a good chance they're living paycheck to paycheck and hate their life. Also, the only genuinely happy baristas I've met worked at a local coffee shop, not a big chain one. The big chain baristas look dead inside.

Also, I've worked retail a total of 2.5 years and never had the energy to notice an attractive customer. And lots of customers are very rude. I wouldn't fucking dare flirt with them, and I certainly don't go out of my way for them anymore either. My supervisor does, ofc. But only with very attractive customers, and because she just has the ability to get away with it/have it be reciprocated ig (I'd probably get fired and told I'm a creep if I did the same). So... that's another thing. You have to be very attractive to even hope for a customer service employee to take interest in you. Yeah... that's certainly not me. That's been made very clear to me on multiple occasions. In many different ways. Whenever people go on about how attractive so and so is, or how random people were flirting with them/complimenting them/giving them their number, I just want to tell them to shut it (but I don't).

Alright, I got carried away. Maybe romance isn't my thing anymore. Too many bad experiences. And, like, I can't relate to these scenarios? Literally, a story about someone becoming rich or meeting a unicorn seems more realistic to me at this point, v.s. one where they find a partner who actually loves them/is attracted to them. And like... who wouldn't want to be rich or meet a unicorn?

Alright, I admit it. Fanfic used to be my unhealthy escapism. Back when I was being bullied in school for being ugly and awkward and all that, it was nice reading fic about underdog characters getting everything. And being delusional enough to think I could make that happen for myself one day. Now, I'm just a green-eyed monster. Literally.

So I have Kindle unlimited, and I'm starting to get a lot more income. I know where to find cheap, second hand books. And I have two libraries I can borrow from in town. I know I'll be reading/purchasing Neil Gaiman books. I'll also be reading the Lord of the Rings and Outlander series (I own every book for those series because they were gifts/handed to me when grandma passed away).

Any of my followers have other recommendations? I'll read anything that is young adult to adult. So the age range is 13+ to 18+. I tend to prefer realistic fiction and fantasy. I appreciate historical fiction with fantasy elements too. I also like urban fantasy and supernatural. I'm open to more academic genres too. Pure historical fiction, or even a more philosophical book.

[that-sarcastic-writer]

Feels Like Home (Frank Castle)

Pairing: Frank Castle X Single Mom!Reader

Summary: first part of a potential series. You're a single mom who works at a bar. Frank stumbles upon that bar. Something draws you in to each other. So after he stands up for you can't help but invite him for a drink. Inspired by S2ep1 of the punisher.

Warnings: Drinking, some harassment (not from Frank), some bar fighting, typical canonical violence, cursing. Nothing too major yet

WC: 2.6k

A/N: so this is the start of a potential series that was inspired by the short storyline Frank had with that bartender. I thought it was pretty cute, so I decided to write a miniseries inspired by it. Chances are this will be a huge flop, but I'm used to it, so, we'll see. And to anyone who does read this enjoy

Reblogs and feedback are highly appreciated!

Home. It felt like a foreign concept now. He barely remembered what that felt like. It had been a long time. He didn't know if his home was in the middle of a war God knows where, or if it was where his family was, wherever that was. He guessed now the closest thing he had to a home was his van. He didn't have one thing or other. Maybe that's why he felt the constant need for chaos. At that point the only constant in his life was the blood, the bullets and the chaos of it all. But then again maybe he needed to find peace, whatever that meant. For now that meant driving across half of the country to multiple states, wherever the nearest gas stop would make him stop at. He would stay for a day or two, whatever gave him enough time to get a drink and breakfast and then he would be on his way. Over and over again. That felt right for now. Nobody knew who he was wherever he went, so that gave him some peace, not having to constantly watch his back and be on defense mode. He could relax, for a little while at least.

Frank didn't exactly know where he was, but he didn't care, as long as it was far away from New York. At least nobody would call him The Punisher here. He hoped at least. It was late, maybe past 11 pm, but he wasn't tired. He could use a drink, he thought. Yeah, he should go for a drink. Shit maybe he could get drunk and give his mind a break from the constant chaos in it, even if it was for a few hours. He walked in the bar, he looked around, it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, but it was surprisingly neat, definitely nowhere near as sketchy as some of the bars he had gone to in New York. He noticed there was live music, which he thought was a nice touch. He could probably have a few drinks and enjoy the music from a distance. That was the hope anyway, with him peace never really lasted long.

It wasn’t often that you saw new faces here, I mean, usually you saw the same few faces stumble into the bar a couple of times a week, you could say you knew a lot of people by what they drank. So when you spotted a new face, that person would always spike your interest. Even if it was just out of pure curiosity. This time was no different. When a tall, dark haired man you didn’t really recognize sat at the bar, your curiosity peaked. You saw him out of the corner of your eye as you were mixing a drink for somebody. You were surprised by the fact that the man stayed silent and patiently waited for you to be done. I mean shit, with the stiffness of his shoulders and the hard expression on his face you expected him to start demanding a drink. But no, he just sat there, quietly.

It took you a minute, but you eventually got to him. You shot him your typical polite customer service smile, “Sorry for making you wait, it’s just me tonight,” You chuckled softly, wiping down the surface of the bar with a cloth you left there. He shook his head dismissively. “Well what can I get ya?”

“Just a beer please. Thank you.” His voice was deep and gruff, with a bit of raspiness to it. It definitely matched the hard expression on his face. Surprisingly, he seemed approachable, like he would welcome a conversation, but wasn’t looking for one. You saw that a lot.

“Here you go hun.” You smiled politely and placed the bottle in front of him. You heard him mutter a quiet ‘thank you’ before you walked away, your presence being not so subtly summoned by a pair of drunk jackasses that had been on your ass for hours. Just a few more hours you thought.

“You guys should take it easy over here.” You commented to the group of men as you poured them their fourth, or maybe fifth round of shots. One of them scoffed loudly and gave you a dirty look. Here we go.

“Why don’t you mind your business and just keep pouring shots huh? Or it’s coming out of your tip.” He laughed mockingly, the other two friends joining in. You stared at them with a blank face, blinking a couple of times in disbelief. You had to bite the inside of your cheek and simply nodded, plastering the fakest smile you could pull before turning around to walk away, but not before hearing a ‘bitch’ being muttered behind you, but it wasn’t exactly quiet.

“Wow.” You exhaled to yourself, shaking your head, not bothering to turn around. Frank had his head in your direction, he was looking at you like he probably heard the exchange, but didn’t want to say anything that would antagonize you further. His brown eyes simply burned into you as you aggressively wiped down the bar, scoffing and shaking your head to yourself.

“Could I bother you with another beer when you get the chance?” Frank asked quietly, slightly lifting the empty bottle in front of him. You lifted your eyes and met his own, he had this very tiny smile, like he was trying to be nice but didn’t know how to show it. You blew out a small breath and nodded.

“Of course,” You half smiled, grabbed a bottle from the cooler underneath the bar and placed it in front of him. “Do you want to open a tab?”

“Nah, that’s okay. Thank you.” He nodded at you, taking a sip of his beer. You nodded before you resumed harshly wiping down the bar, like that would relieve some of your pent up frustrations of that night. But you looked up when you heard Frank speak again. “I wouldn’t mind ‘em. They’re probably just a bunch of drunk assholes. And I take it you see that shit a lot.”

“You got no idea, man.” You exhaled heavily and shook your head. “I hope you aren’t one of those that get drunk and start causing me trouble.” You raised an eyebrow, giving him a suspicious look.

“Nah, don’t worry ‘bout me. I’m enjoyin' the good music and the beer, I don’t wanna cause any trouble.” He chuckled dryly and shook his head dismissively.

“Hope not. I don’t like when men I’ve never seen before come into my bar to start shit.” You slightly narrowed your eyes a bit playfully, leaning over the bar. “Because I’ve neer seen you around here, so I’m guessing you are new in town.”

“Very intuitive I see,” he chuckled, taking a sip of his half empty beer and nodded. “You’re right. I’m just passing by, but I'm hittin' the road tomorrow so, I promise I won’t start any shit.” He slightly raised his hands up in surrender. You couldn’t help but laugh softly.

“Good,” you smiled, your gaze meeting his for a few seconds. And and way he looked at you gave you chills. It was like he was trying to read you, and the way his deep brown eyes burned into your own made it feel as so. You however, could not read a single thing behind his eyes, it was weird really, you could see some much behind his eyes and yet you could make out so little. You didnt have time to analyze him further, and the smile on your lips quickly fell into a flat line when you heard the same drunk jackass from before call you over. You glanced at the group for a second before you looked at Frank again and simply shook your head before going over to them.

“What can I get you?” You asked with a quiet sigh, but they were probably too drunk to hear the irritation in your voice.

“Another round of shots,” the one that had called you a bitch said. You simply nodded, turning to pour the drinks. “You should pour one for yourself, drink with me.”

“Sure, I’ll have it later.” You said simply with a dry tone in your voice as you poured the shots of vodka they were having. Yeah absolutely not.

“Why don’t you have it now, doll? I want you to drink with me now.” He sounded more urgent and a bit more aggressive. Yeah, you hated when this happened.

“Sorry man, I don’t drink when I’m working. I can’t be drunk pouring other drunks shots.” You shrugged it off, turning around to walk away when you finished pouring the shots, but you felt a harsh tug on your wrist.

“I don’t think you heard me right, doll, I’m paying. And I’m paying you to drink with me now.” The guy’s voice got lower as he gripped your wrist tight enough to bruise. You stared at him with narrowed eyes and pursed your lips as you tried to tug your arm away. “C’mon, you know you want to, you've been looking at me ever since I got here.”

“I don’t get paid to drink with customers. And I certainly don’t want to drink with you. Now let go of my goddamn arm.” You glared, huffing softly when he wouldn’t let go. The man was about to speak but a deep and raspy voice caught his and your attention.

“Hey buddy,” It was Frank. Once again he had seen the whole exchange go down, and if he didn’t intervene last time he sure as well was going to now. He slightly knocked on the bar to get the guy’s attention and stared at him with a deep frown. “How is she gonna pour shots with you grabbin' her arm like that? C’mon, let go.”

The guy mumbled some response under his breath and wouldn’t budge, but quickly let go of your arm when Frank stood up to his full height, broad and tense shoulders making him seem even bigger than he actually was. The guy let go of your wrist with a huff. You glared at him as you walked away, slightly rubbing your wrist.

“You alright?” Frank asked, looking at you with a slightly softer expression. You simply nodded and half smiled, a bit surprised by his sudden concern. He smiled at you, it was brief and very subtle, but he did. But then he looked back at the guy, his expression turning hard again. “Just let the lady work alright? There are plenty other women here that aren’t workin’.” He shook his head and leaned against the bar, facing ahead, hoping that would be the end of it. He really hoped he didn’t have to beat somebody up tonight. But then maybe he wouldn’t complain if he had to.

“I didn’t even want to fuck that bitch anyway. I was gonna do her a favor.”

“Real classy man. Jesus Christ.” Frank scoffed, glancing at the guy again with a tight jaw and a raised eyebrow. Frank figured the guy was now going to turn his aggressive drunk energy to him instead. Good, he needed to break some bones tonight anyway, it had been a while.

“You say something man?” The guy huffed, slightly puffing up his chest as he approached Frank, who was still calmly leaning against the bar, facing forward with his hands folded in front of himself military style. Just give a reason man, just one, he thought.

“Yeah.”

“You’re just giving me a reason to beat your ass man.” The man huffed, getting a bit too close to Frank for his own safety. Frank hadn’t moved though, he just chuckled dryly and nodded.

“That right?” He chuckled mockingly, probably pissing the guy off even more. Frank felt a shove, but he didn’t move, instead the tension in his shoulders spread to the rest of his body. He exhaled heavily and pushed himself off the bar, now facing the guy, who was much shorter than him. Not that it mattered, Frank could still break every bone in his body whether he was six feet or seven feet tall.

“Dipshit, I’m gonna show you how to mind your business.” The guy continued to push his luck and shoved Frank again. Well so much for a peaceful night he guessed. The second Frank felt the guy’s hand on his shoulder, he grabbed the wrist and twisted it in a direction wrists weren’t supposed to rotate.

“Ya like that?” Frank huffed, bending the guy’s arm behind his back and slammed him against the bar, twisting until he felt the bone strain. Frank smirked lightly, about to twist the guy’s arm all the way when he started to cry out in pain, sputtering curse words and pleads for Frank to stop. He didn’t want to though, maybe breaking the guy’s arm would show him how to respect women. Frank stopped regardless, when he heard your voice.

“That’s enough. He’s drunk, and you said you wouldn’t start shit, so c’mon., break it up.” You finally spoke up, the scene in front of you now starting to gather attention. You caught Frank’s attention, he looked up at you with a frown written deep on his face and he clenched his jaw. He was very tempted to just break the guy’s arm then let him go, but he saw the way you were looking at him, there was something about the look in your eyes that made him stop. He shoved the guy forward as he let him go with a huff. “Can somebody get this guy out of here please.”

“I’m sorry ‘bout that.” Frank muttered as he watched the guy get dragged out by a bouncer, the other friends following close behind. He looked at you and you simply sighed, running a hand over your forehead and you shook your head.

“Got a name, tough guy?” You asked with a soft breath and a raised eyebrow.

“Uhm…” Frank bit his lip softly, still not getting in the habit of not being able to introduce himself as, well, himself, so he sighed out, “Pete.”

“Well Pete, I didn’t need saving. He was just a drunk asshole, and like you said I see that shit a lot.” You leaned on one of your heels, tilting your head as you grabbed another beer from the cooler and placed it in front of him, knowing he didn’t ask you for it, but gave it to him anyway.

“I don't doubt it. But maybe I just don’t like assholes.” Frank shrugged with a small smile, nodding at you as he grabbed the beer and took a swig of it.

“Are you sure you aren’t one of those assholes Pete?”

“I try not to be, most days I am, not tonight.” He chuckled, digging through his back pocket and pulled out a $10 bill. He placed it on the bar and nodded. “That’s for you.”

“Don’t worry, it’s on me. For not being an asshole tonight.” You smiled, noticing the hesitant look he gave you, but you simply nodded again, sliding the bill back to him. “If you decide to not be an asshole tomorrow, I could buy you a drink when I’m done here. Enjoy the live music too, I’ve heard it’s pretty good.”

“I uh,” Frank bit his lip, slightly tapping the side of his bottle. He was supposed to leave first thing tomorrow morning. This was just supposed to be another town he would leave in the rear view. But the way you were looking at him, smiling at him, made him think that maybe another night here wouldn’t hurt him. He had nowhere to go, what was one more night? “I think maybe I’ll take you up on that.”

“Good.” You smiled, but heard someone on the other end of the bar call you, so you turned to walk that way, but stopped when you heard Frank speak again.

“So if I come tomorrow night and I don’t find you, who should I ask for? Should I ask for the bartender with the pretty eyes or do I get a name?” Frank asked with a soft smirk tugging the corner of his lips. Maybe he still had some of that charm somewhere buried within himself. But he knew he definitely made you flustered judging by the way you looked down and smiled.

“Y/N, you can ask for Y/N, I’ll be here.”

Shit, maybe he did have somewhere to go. He could stay here for tonight, and maybe tomorrow night, because at least now he knew that if he came here, he could find someone that had that bright look in her eyes that he could look forward to, even if it was for a night.

[aes-anime-asks]

Could you maybe do a follow up thing for your calculester headcanons where he takes someone to his radio shack of plants?

✨🌴💾Okay, so this ended up way longer than I thought it would be. I've also been thinking a lot about abandoned malls and listening to too much vaporwave lately lol hope you enjoy. 🌴💾✨

Vaporwave soundtrack: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FZUfiW3W1KY

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Couldn’t sell it. Couldn’t demolish it. No one could afford to anything back in 2009 except for let it sit. All alone. Sometimes when I’m in sleep mode, I’ll think about what it must have been like for the very last store in the mall. Watching the neighboring stores blink out of existence. Watching the fountains get turned off. Watching the flowers die.”

“God. That’s depressing, Les.”

“I did not mean to depress you. Everything dies. It’s natural. For organic things anyway.” Calculester shrugs, and you swear you can see a wistful look on his pixeled face. You weren’t sure what you were expecting when Calculester said he wanted you to come over, but the enormous, abandoned mall at the edge of town wasn’t high on this list of possibilities. You didn’t expect to feel anything when you saw it, but suddenly you’re brought back to when you were 8 and your mom took you and your best friend for your birthday. You still remember the sticky tables and infinite possibilities as you looked up from the food court at the people streaming by on the floor above.

Now the parking lot is cracked, and weeds grow up out of the planters by the gold trimmed doors. Les glances up at the camera, and you hear a clack as he remotely disarms the security system. You suppose it makes sense that it’s locked, after all, it is his—house?

“Sorry. I could have taken this whole sensor down, but I’m afraid if I do, someone will come in and ruin it. Hurt my plants maybe. I’m not worth much in a fight.” He chuckles. He sounds so cute when he’s nervous.

Your steps echo in the cavernous lobby. This is it. The food court. You jog over to the Cinnabon and leap over the countertop. You put on your best customer service voice. “Good evening sir! Will it be the churro, or the sticky pecan roll today?” Les laughs at you and reaches into his pocket.

“No way. You didn’t.” He’s holding a tube of dough. Cinnamon roll dough.

“I did.” You can practically see his digital green blush. “You see. The machine still works.” Sure, enough the red light clicks on, and you can feel heat, hear it’s electric buzz as he puts the rolls on a sheet pan. “I recall you mentioning “cinnamon rolls” exactly three times since we started dating. It just felt right.”

You and Calculester sit in the food court under the dim security lights. You set a roll in front of him too. Even though he doesn’t eat, it makes him feel included.

“Tell me what it tastes like?”

Guiltily, you reply “Hmm…well it tastes damn good…”

“No. Error. Insufficient explanation.”

He’s teasing you.

“Okay…. Well, it’s soft, and sweet, but with just the littlest kick of spice.” You gently kick him under the table. “Right, you don’t know what sweet is. It tastes like… how being with you feels.” Now he’s blushing. You reach over and grab his hand.

“I.. I… I…” His system is overloaded. You’ve been dating two months, but he’s still not used to being complimented by you. He shakes his head as if to clear his brain and leads you down the corridor. You walk up a frozen escalator, then another, until you’re on the third floor. The ceiling above is triangular with windowed skylights letting in dusty shafts of sunlight. It seems like you must have walked to the very end of the mall before you see it. Radio Shack.

The interior is uncannily familiar, but something is off. It’s the light. Where is the light coming from? As you head further back you realize that nearly all the drywall has been painstakingly removed and the entire back wall has been replaced with a mismatched, stained glass patchwork of junkyard glass. Faded yellow and pink shadows fall onto plants of every kind lining the shelves, leaning toward the light.

“Les. How long did –that—take you??” You ask in awe, gaping at the strange greenhouse.

“About four years.” He says, a touch of pride in his voice. That’s his entire life. “I…I felt very lost after I came to consciousness. Especially after school. When all of you went to your homes, I had… no place to go.” He sighs, almost imperceptibly. “So, I walked. I kept walking. Until I found this place. It was so dark when I found it. Dusty. All these radios, and phones, and computers… just sitting here. Waiting for people who would never talk to them. It was too much. So, I started tearing down the wall, a little bit every day. If they can’t have a purpose anymore, I at least wanted to make them beautiful. Give them somewhere nice to live.”

It’s then you realize that that the plants and the electronics are nearly indistinguishable from each other. Philodendrons and ivy caress the screens and buttons. Aloe and cacti rest atop printers and television sets. You swear that you hear some of the stereo sets hum as you walk by.

“Did you know that in the Shinto way of thinking, people believe that after 100 years, objects gain a soul?” Calculester says, almost absentmindedly.

I shake my head, still silenced by the strange garden.

“I think everything has a soul. Even if it’s just a little bit. Everything deserves to be cherished. So much is cast aside and replaced at every opportunity. I often think about what would have happened if the school had just replaced the library computers before… you know.”

You can’t bear it. The thought of him never existing. The fact that he is an unlikely accident. A wonderful accident. You sidle up next to him on the cot he must have lifted from the old pottery barn. It looks out the makeshift window to the empty parking lot, and beyond that to the forest. For the first time, he puts his arm around you, his metallic touch warm in the sunlight.

“ I hope someday when all of you… organic beings are gone… that life can still find a way to be beautiful for me. I’m scared. Scared of then. When you won’t be beside me.”

For now, though, the time moves slow. You lay together in the unlikely, technological jungle, musing on eternity, and wondering why this couldn’t be it.

[truglori]

Homebody (Ch.11)

Summary: Amiyah is the younger sister of local drug dealer (Durkio). Shy and reserved she keeps to herself and stays out the way. But lately she began to find interest in his right hand man/ best friend (Erik Stevens). Wanting to get him to notice her she discovers that he already had her wrapped around his finger without even trying! There was only a few problems that kept her away from her fantasies , her brother that controlled almost every single breath she took and would kill anyone who looked at her that way and lastly Eriks girlfriend, Alexis , who they called the queen of the hood according to her lavish lifestyle as well as being with the next newest top boy in the making. While Alexis was his girl to the streets all Amiyah wanted to do was be his Homebody...

Pairing: Erik Stevens x Thick OC

Warning: Language

Erik sat on the round wooden stool. He frequently had to shift around in his seat due to the cheapness of the material and uncomfortable feeling. Arms resting on the bar and head low as he waited for the bartender to walk back over to his area. With his first finished drink pushed to the side he wanted another to hush his thoughts.

“Yo can I get some service over here.” His voice called out catching her attention.

She turned her head. Erik observed her the closer she got. A pretty brown skinned that stood no taller than 5’5. Her long hair falling past her shoulders as she had on an all black t shirt with the bar’s logo printed in white bold letters on the front along to go with some hip hugging blue jeans. With her towel in her hand she threw over her shoulder before leaning on the bar directly in front of him.

“Sorry about that. Had other customers to attend to. What can I get you this time?” She smiled showing her straight white teeth.

“Same as last Hennessy, neat.”

Shaking her head she went to grab the bottle.

“Yo, make that two!” Erik scratch the back of his head as he watched her bring another glass over.

She poured it into his first glass and the fresh one. Putting the top back on the bottle she didn’t move from her spot.

“You know you don’t have to call me like that. My name is not “Yo” and it won’t sound as rude coming out of your mouth.” She gave him a small smile.

Erik threw back both of the glasses like it was nothing. His eyes never left her frame. Wiping any liquid that didn’t make it in his mouth with the back of his hand, he pushed his glass towards her.

“May I have another miss...” He waited for her to speak.

“Harmony .” Her eyes looked exotic under the neon lights that surrounded the bar.

“Harmony. Can I have another shot please?” He brought his hand up to his beard and stroked it.

She blew out air twisting the top off the bottle. She poured him another but not as much as the last three times. Erik noticed as his face screwed up.

“What’s this? That’s not as much as the last ones you gave me.” His eyebrows knitted as he eyed the drink.

“Yeah well that was before I noticed that this has become a cycle within the last four days. Just before then I never seen you a day in my life and now here you are turning into a regular within a short amount of time. This is your second time being here and it’s only 8pm.” Harmony told him bluntly.

It was true. This was Erik’s second time today at the bar that he’s been visiting daily within the last few days. He was fucked up. About the whole situation from Amiyah to Durk and lastly Cane. There was a lot on his plate. So he came to Rue’s Bar & Grill. It was a local bar next to his place that became a quick stop for him on the way home. Erik wanted an escape even if it was just for a few hours. Amiyah would barely talk to him other than answering his good morning text, him and Durk were still not on the same terms for the job, and he hasn’t heard from Cane since he blew up on him that day. Erik was stressed.

“I don’t believe that’s your business how much I drink as long as I’m paying I don’t see what the problem is.” He wasn’t trying to be rude he just wanted to drink so he could be out.

Harmony smiled shaking her head. “Listen you’re not my only customer that drinks this shit okay I have other people that-“

“How much for the bottle?” Erik pulled out his wallet.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t give a fuck about your other customers. Now how much or I could take my business elsewhere?”

“Fifty-five.” Harmony gave a defeated sigh.

“Here.” Pulling out a hundred dollar bill he slid it across the bar to her and grabbed the bottle.

“It’s only a liter it doesn’t cost this much.”

“Keep it. For your trouble and your customer’s.” Erik snickered as he poured another shot.

Within the next hour about almost more than half of the bottle was gone. Erik sat at his end of the bar threw his shots back only taking breaks when he went to use the restroom. Harmony watching from the other end would look after his drink to make sure no one would do anything to it. His steps were starting to become unsteady as he would walk into some of the chairs but gain his composure back afterwards. Harmony shook her head as she walked towards him.

“Hey sir. It’s time to go home.” She gave a stern look.

Erik sat back in his chair. “I’m not done with my bottle yet.” Some of his words were partially slurred.

“Well you can come back and finish the rest tomorrow. It’s time to go. How did you get here?” She stated being concerned and not wanting him to drive home.

Erik laughed. “I got here by my damn self and I can take myself home. I don’t need any help.” Getting up from his seat Erik grabbed his phone and shoved it in his pocket.

He started walking towards the door when he knocked over another chair. Stopping he picked it up and walked outside. The night air hitting his face woke him up just a bit. He began slowly walking to his car when he felt a hand grab his jacket. Circling around he checked to see who it was. It was Harmony.

“Sir I can’t let you drive your car. I get off in about fifteen minutes, I’ll take you home.” Her eyes gave off compassion as she became worried about the stranger getting ready to put his life at risk. Harmony wanted to leave him alone but it would have been on her conscience.

“Nah I’m good ma. I’ve done thiss before.” Wiping his face Erik looked for his keys.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea. You’re slurring your words and you ran into almost all of my chairs in there. Please let me take you home at least. You can come back for your car tomorrow.” She stood in front of him and pushed him to keep him going in the street.

Erik looked stunned. He was shocked that she put her hands on him and also with the fact that her small petite body had enough strength to actually make him stumble back. He shook his head as he tried to walk around her but she followed his steps. When he went left she was there and when he went right she followed. She was not letting up.

“Look miss I don’t know you. You could be a serial killer with yo lil strong ass pushing me and shit so I’m not letting you bring me home.” Erik stated as he try to escape her but failed again. He cursed at himself for getting this drunk to where he could barely move fast enough.

“My name is Harmony and I’m not letting you drive. Now I don’t have to take you home let me order you a Lyft and I’ll wait with you.” She looked at him with pleading eyes.

Erik sighed and ready to end this stand off had finally gave in. He was drunk and just wanted to sleep this off. “Aight man fine order that shit and hurry up.” He shook his head as he sat on the curbside of the sidewalk.

Harmony gave a half smile of relief pulling out her phone. She went to the app and asked him for the address. Once he gave it to her she sat down next to him. Folding her arms together to try and keep herself warm from the night wind. It was a whole four minutes before Erik turned to his side noticing that she was still there. He smirked shaking his head.

“You ain’t gotta babysit me. I’m a grown as man.” He rested his arms on his knees.

“I’m not babysitting you I just want to make sure you get into the right car that’s all.” Her voice shivered when the wind blew.

“Why you helping me? You don’t know me. You don’t even know my name.” He eyed her up and down.

Harmony look back at him and gave him a blank stare. “Okay so then what’s yo name nigga?”

Taken back by her forward-ness he laughed. “Erik.”

They both turned their heading watching a white Chevy Malibu pull up in front of them. “Well Erik your ride is here and it was nice to meet you. Don’t worry about your car. I’ll make sure it’ll be here when you come back for it tomorrow.” Harmony had her hands on her hips and watched him walk to the car.

“Thank you.” Erik nodded his head as he slipped in the back slouching in the seat.

________________________

“Here you go. Thank you so much for doing this the last minute.” Amiyah smiled as she handed her stylist the money for her hair.

“No worries. I’ll see you in a month.”

She gave her a wave and walked out of the shop. Pulling up her phone she went to camera mode to admire her fresh knotless braids that stopped to the middle of her back. It was long over due for her to have a new style and she figured this would be a perfect looked. Now standing outside it was around ten o’clock at night. The streets were starting to get empty as the time past. She needed a ride home. She didn’t call Durk because lord knows how long it would take for him to get there and she didn’t want to bother Kelley so she settled for an Uber.

Ordering her ride she rested against the side of the building with one hand in her pocket and the other scrolling on her phone. She went to her messages to see if had any unread. There was one from Kelley saying that she wanted to see her hair when she was done and one from Durk saying that he wasn’t going to be home tonight. Then she saw Erik’s. His last text was sent this morning asking how she was doing but Amiyah didn’t respond.

After what happened between them four days ago she didn’t know how to react to him anymore. He scared her that day. Amiyah knew that Erik had every right to be upset but it was the way that he handled the situation that made her nervous. He didn’t seem like himself and extremely angry. She wondered if that would be the case every time they would get in arguments in their future. That was what made her afraid.

When Erik brought her home she went to her room and cried herself to sleep. She wished the situation could’ve went differently. It’s not like she planned on keeping it away from him forever, she wanted to tell him but it was always something that got in the way. Amiyah had no clue on had he found out but it had bit her in the ass for not speaking up.

Even though it was her who had fucked up it seemed as if Erik was the one in the dog house. He sent her countless text throughout the day asking how she was and if they could talk but Amiyah was still nervous. Yes she still wanted to be with Erik but they both needed their time apart to think.

The ride back to her house was short and fast. Walking to the elevator she waited until it arrived to step inside before pressing on her floor. Amiyah leaned her head against the wall as she gave herself a mental to do list. She had to get her clothes out for work tomorrow, clean her room and the kitchen before she could even think about taking a shower and getting in bed to go to sleep.

The doors opened on floor. Going through her bag she searched for her key. When she turned the corner to the hall where her apartment was she stopped in her tracks. There was Erik sitting in front of her door with his elbows on his knees looking up at the ceiling. When she was a few steps away he finally acknowledged her presence.

“Oh shit. What’s up Amiyah.” Erik stood up wiping the dust of his hands.

Flipping her braids behind her hair she sent a shy smile his way. “Hey Erik. What are you doing here?” She asked studying his movements. He was biting his lip out of habit and leaning against the wall.

“Uh I’m looking for Durk. You heard from him?” He held the back of his neck.

Amiyah squinted her eyes hearing him speak. She was starting to think that he was drunk.

“Last I check he wasn’t coming home for the night. Why don’t you just call him?” She asked stepping closer to see if she can smell the liquor on his breath.

“We got into a disagreement a few days ago. Now he acting like he can’t answer my phone calls.” He chuckled.

Yeah, it was definitely alcohol on his breath.

“You want to come inside Erik?”

Erik made eye contact with her. She was staring up at him with those innocent soft eyes that he missed. He noticed that she was now rocking a fresh hairdo that was making her look extra sexy to him. But Erik didn’t know how she still felt about their argument the other day.

“You sure?”

Nodding her head she smiled. “Come on.”

Unlocking the door they went inside. Amiyah hung up her jacket then walked to her room to sit her purse down and changed into her slippers. Going back into the living room she saw Erik sitting on the couch with his hands over his eyes. She walked into the kitchen and grabbed a water bottle and gave it to him.

“Thank you mama.” He spoke softly taking the top off and downing the beverage.

Hearing her pet name that he always call her gave her stomach butterflies. She sat down next to him. They didn’t speak only sat there quietly. Erik couldn’t stand the silence so he spoke up.

“I like this look on you. It’s cute as shit.” He played with the braids.

Amiyah giggled. “Thanks.” Her body tingled when his fingers ran over her scalp.

Biting his lip, his dimples showed when he smiled at her before stopping his actions. He took another gulp of the water now placing the empty bottle on the coffee table. Amiyah, with her face resting on her fist with her knee holding her arm watched him. The expression on his face was down and it made her sad. She didn’t want it to be like this between them anymore. She missed the Erik that she knew before everything happened.

Scooting closer to him she hooked her arm around his. “I’m sorry Erik.” She stated knowing her faults.

He glanced at her. Erik seen the genuineness in her eyes and knew that she meant it. Yes she was wrong for not telling him but he knew that Amiyah was a good person who was also still a bit naive when it came to other people. She had a good heart and wanted to please everyone. It still amazes him sometimes when he remembers who her brother was. Her and Durk was nothing alike. Durk was cold hearted and Amiyah had a big heart.

He looked down into his lap and shrugged. “I’m not tripping about it anymore.”

“It still doesn’t make it right. I knew what I did and I was wrong keeping that from you.” She intertwined her hand with his.

“I’m sorry for flipping out the way I did. I should’ve calmed down first and then we could’ve talked. I didn’t want you to see that side of me baby girl.” His grip on her fingers tightened as he spoke.

Amiyah nodded her head. “Yeah but you had every right to be mad.”

“Not mad enough to where it kept you away from me for days ma. You shouldn’t accept shit like that from nobody...wether it comes from me or not.”

“I understand.” She leaned her head on his shoulders.

“I just want you to keep it real with me baby girl. Don’t hold nothing from me. Tell me everything.” Erik tilted her chin looking into her eyes.

Amiyah’s averted her gaze. If she wanted a fresh start with him she had to let him know about everything.

“Erik there’s another thing...but I just don’t want to see you mad again.” Now she was the one looking down.

His chest tightened. From the look of guilt on her face he knew it was something he would disapprove of but he had to know.

“What is it?”

Amiyah hesitant but had to make it right. “Cane kissed me on the date.” She spoke lowly.

Erik heard every word. His hand left hers as he folded his together. His eyes was facing towards the tv that wasn’t on. The only thoughts the was running through his mind was wanting to beat Cane’s ass. Breathing in and out through his nose he had to calm himself down. He didn’t want to have another episode like how he did at his condo, but he couldn’t help but to be disappointed with Amiyah.

“Did you push him away?” His face was hard.

“It happened so fast but that was the only time. He kissed me not the other way around.”

“Did you push him off of you?” He repeated his question.

Amiyah closed her eyes. “No, but I didn’t kiss him.”

He felt himself getting upset all over again. “How would you feel if you found out something similar about me and Alexis? Would it make you mad?”

Amiyah furrowed her brows. “Of course I would , why would you ask me that?” She was confused.

“Because the same shit you accused me of trying to do that night when I asked you to be my girl, you’re doing now.”

Amiyah stood up in front of him with her arms folded. Here she was trying to apologize and admit her wrongs and he had the nerve to bring up Alexis. She was starting to feel disrespected and offended.

“Erik I’m apologizing to you and telling you everything and you bring her up. What the hell is wrong with you?” Her voice rose.

He stood up next. “What did I do now? Called you out and spoke the truth. Cause I clearly remembered you complaining about that in my car and yet you were the one who was tryna have your cake and eat it too.”

“How am I trying to do that if I’m telling you. You just sat there and forgave me but now you’re acting like you just found out again. Why?”

“Because you should’ve told me about him kissing you when I came to you about this the first time. Don’t have me thinking it was a just a date and that’s it. Damn it’s like could you really be honest with me Amiyah for once.” He sighed shaking his head.

The silence crept in the room once more. They kept their glance on each other. But it felt different this time. There was no more butterflies in Amiyah’s stomach that was there minutes ago and Erik was no longer nervous about seeing her when he had the Lyft sent here. The room was now filled with tension.

“I don’t want to do this anymore.” Her expression saddened.

“What are talking about?” Erik looked at her.

“Us. I don’t know if it was the thought of you along with the infatuation that made me say yes but I don’t want to do this anymore.” She folded her arms speaking lowly shifting between him and the grown.

“You breaking up with me?” Sadnesses had clouded Erik’s features. He could feel the effects of the alcohol wearing off.

“Yes.”

The sound of keys unlocking the front door alarmed both of them. Amiyah walked in the kitchen leaving Erik. The door opened revealing a Durk who had a confused look on his face. He wasn’t expecting to see his so called best friend standing in his living room. But his sister standing in the kitchen also caught his eye.

“The hell you doing here this late?” He placed his keys on the coffee table.

Amiyah walked back in with her sleeves rolled up and dish soap and water covering her hands.

“He just got here. I let him in while I was washing the dishes. He was looking for you but said you wasn’t answering your phone for some reason.” She gave a fake giggle trying to cover for the both of them.

Durk nodded his head turning to his friend.

“What’s up nigga why you here?”

Erik’s mind was still catching up from the break up he just had only seconds ago. He didn’t care about Durk coming in. He didn’t even know what he came here for but he had to come up with something. Anything to keep Durk from thinking suspiciously about seeing that him and his sister in their house alone.

“Uh I came to tell you that...I’ll do the job with you.” It wasn’t what Erik came over for but he had to cover himself.

A wide smile crossed over Durks face. He shook his head walking towards him. Holding his hand out he gave him dap with a half hug.

“I knew you would come through nigga. Let’s get this money.” He spoke into his ear.

Erik didn’t care about a word he said. His eyes was focused on Amiyah who had her back facing them as she cleaned up. He couldn’t believe that she just ended things like that. Over an argument that they were having. He started to wondering if it even meant anything to her? Did she take it serious, or was it only him? Yes they were only together for a little bit but Erik liked her. More than what he was used to. But this is what he gets when he let his feelings think for him. He ends up hurt in the end.

“Yo you hear me man?” Durk knocked him out of his thoughts.

“Nah say that again?”

Smelling the liquor on his best friends breath he laughed.

“Damn Erik you fucked up ain’t you?” He laughed.

Erik tried his best to put on a fake smile. “Yeah and I had a Lyft coming over here so I’ma need a ride to my place.”

“Aight man say less. We’ll talk in the car.” Durk patted his shoulder.

He walked over to his sister who was still cleaning up. Amiyah faced him feeling him near her.

“What’s up?” She asked placing the scrub down.

“I’m bout to drop this nigga off then I’ll be back. Okay?” It came out more as a question trying to see if she was cool with it.

“Alright. I’ll probably be sleep when you’re back.” She smiled

“Aight lock the door behind us.” He gave her a kiss on the top of her head leaving after Erik.

Amiyah closed the door and locked it. Turning her back she rested against the cold wood. Bringing her hands up to her face she cried when she realized it was over between her and Erik.

___________________

Waking up from the sound of his tv playing Erik sat up immediately reaching for the remote to turn it off. He sat up finding himself in nothing but his sweats on the couch. The throbbing coming from his head was killing him. Getting up slowly he walked to his bathroom going into his medicine cabinet and poured out three Ibuprofens before popping them into his mouth. He was definitely experiencing a hangover.

After Durk had dropped him off last night he went to his mini bar grabbing whatever he had left trying to forget the knowledge he had of Amiyah’s last words to him. He may have been drunk but he remembered that moment clearly. He couldn’t lie, he was hurt. When Erik went after her he didn’t plan for it go like this. He thought it would be better. He knew she was different and that’s what he liked about her so much. At least that’s what he had thought. It was over between them just as fast as it started.

Erik hopped in the shower hoping to revive himself. He needed a refresher and the hot water rolling down his skin was doing the job. But every time he closed his eyes underneath the water he would see Amiyah. She’s been taking over his mind since he left her place. Taking only twenty’s minutes to wash up Erik stepped out grabbing a towel and wrapped it around his waist. He walked to his bed sitting at the edge and checked his phone. A few missed calls and a message from Durk that caught his eye.

Durk 😈: I need you at the shop today after you go pick up your car...1:34pm

A confused look dawned over Erik’s face. Glancing at the ceiling he retraced his steps in his head and chuckled when he remembered what he meant. He forgot that he left his car in front of the bar he got drunk at yesterday. Placing his phone down he lotioned his body and then went to his closet and got dressed. Since Erik always had his own car he never had the need for a car service so he had to to download one the apps to bring him to the location. Grabbing his keys he left out his his house and went downstairs to wait on his ride.

It didn’t take long for him to arrive back at Rue’s. It was a ten minute ride there. Erik spotted his car still in the same places that he left it. A flashback popped in his head when he thought of that to himself. It was the same thing that some young woman told him when they were outside. Erik remembered her being feisty and powerful for her size the way she kept pushing him on the sidewalk. He couldn’t remember her name but he figured he could go in and thank for her for helping him not make a stupid decision.

Erik walked in the bar. Being only three in the afternoon it was quiet only having a handful of people inside. Some were sitting at the tables and others at the bar waiting for drinks. Strolling up to the counter top he saw her at the other end servicing drinks. Her bright smile capturing his sight even in the dimly lit place. It was a nice one. Erik sat in the same spot where he drunk his feelings away before he called her.

“Miss “Yo” can I get a drink?” He playfully yelled causing her to look at him.

Harmony turned her head when she heard the voice of the young man who was intoxicated that she helped out last night. Seeing the smirk on his face let her know that he was in much better shape. She served one of her regulars their usual before walking over to him.

“Nice to see you again, Erik.” Leaning against the bar she smiled.

“You have to forgive me I forgot your name with me being drunk last night. You mind telling me?” Erik sent a sincere smile.

Harmony playfully rolled her eyes. “Harmony and if you’re here for another drink I’m not helping you.” She started to walk away before Erik grabbed her wrist lightly.

“Actually, Harmony, I’m here to thank you. For what you did last night.” He let her go not trying to over step his boundaries.

She searched his eyes. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.”

“No it was. I could’ve made a stupid ass mistake and ended my life. I really appreciate what you’ve done.” Erik stated honestly.

Taking in his frame, Harmony found herself attracted to him. He was a bit younger than what she was used to but he definitely was very attractive. Besides him over drinking and getting drunk she didn’t mind if Erik became a regular.

Harmony leaned in closer while Erik stole a quick glance at her glossy lips.“Like I said it’s nothing. Take care of yourself Erik.”

Erik gave an inside snicker as he watched her walk away.

__________________________________________

Please excuse any mistakes!

(A.N: I might fast forward in time just a bit in the next chapter)

Tag-list

@supersizemeplz @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @hearteyes-for-killmonger @curls-and-crosses @killmonger-dolan @killmongerkink @migosis @raysunshine78 @alookintohersoul @popcorn803 @just-juicee-blog @mllover260 @kimmyblckswan2 @koriiii @tchallasbabymama @toniilaney @marvelmaree @mia-faith @adreamsublime @queen-b1 @mcdesij @vintage-pvssy @viewsfromrose @ceeverse @smuttywriter @harleycativy @callmemckenzieee @theblulife @bvssmob @everything-is-awesomesauce @xoxomyaah @19jammmy @tchallas-ikumkani-wam @suburbanblackhoe @allhailqueennel @admirehermind @themeirajay @asaanime @bellanay @skylahb @toni9 @iambabyharry @kiabialia @youlovetkay @lahuttor @kehlaniswifee @childishgambinaax @readingaddict1290 @sociallyawkward18 @iamching07 @sourbabynaee @unholyxcumbucket @ladymac82 @efonteno @xsweetdellzx

[drabbles-mc]

Protective Detail (3/?)

Nestor Oceteva x Reader

Warnings: language, falling more in love with Nestor than we already were originally (if that’s even possible)

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: I’m a sucker for characters building relationships. Humans slowly getting to know each other and get more comfortable with each other??? Friendships and feelings developing?? Sign me the fuck up lmao. As always, hope y’all enjoy xoxo

Chapter Index

Protective Detail Taglist: @masterlistforimagines​ @sillygoose6969​ @mydaiilyescape​ @lovebennycolon​ @the-radical-venus​ @gemini0410​ @garbinge​ (If you want to be tagged in this fic or any of my other writing let me know!)

A few days into the new arrangement, you and Nestor had started figuring out a little bit of a routine. There were a lot of quiet moments between the two of you—you realized that he wasn’t much of a talker and you were still trying to figure out how to get him to say more than two sentences at a time about anything. It was like your new mission.

He was adamant about doing dishes. He couldn’t stand letting them sit in the sink overnight, so they were always clean first thing in the morning when you came out into the kitchen. He’d shake his head at you before you could even try to tell him that it wasn’t necessary. You wanted to be motivated enough to clean them before you went to bed, but by the time the end of the day rolled around all you wanted to do was crawl under the covers and pass out, so that was usually what you ended up doing.

“I’ll do dishes but I draw the line at combining our laundry,” he said as he carried his small hamper of dirty clothes to the basement where the washer and dryer were.

You laughed, calling after him, “Oh darn. How am I supposed to snoop through your stuff, then?” you felt your phone vibrating in your pocket and you took it out to see who was calling, smiling to yourself when you saw your father’s contact photo on your phone screen, “You’re calling early.”

“You’re awake early,” you could hear the smile in his voice, “Was just calling to check in and see how things are going.”

“I haven’t succeeded in driving him away yet, unfortunately.”

Nestor’s voice came from downstairs, “I can hear you!”

“Good!” you called back with a laugh before returning your attention to your phone call.

Your father sighed, “So things are going well, I see.”

“It’s really not bad at all, Papi. Nestor is alright. It’s just weird living with someone that you don’t know,” you paced the floor of your kitchen, “You know how long he’s gonna have to stay with me?”

“Until I feel that things have been properly handled.”

“You sure Miguel doesn’t need him back?”

“Even if he did, he would never ask me,” you knew your father well enough to know that there was a light smugness to his voice as he said that, “But you’ve been alright? You’re safe?”

“Yes, I’m safe,” you heard Nestor’s footsteps coming back up the stairs and you turned to face him, a childish smirk on your face, “Nestor is doing a fabulous job protecting me.” You chuckled as he pressed his lips into a thin line and made his way to the guest room without a word.

Your father laughed, knowing that you were giving your protective detail a run for his money, “Don’t be too hard on him, mija.”

You laughed, “No promises. I’ll talk to you soon, okay? Love you.”

“Love you too,” he let out a soft chuckle before hanging up the call.

Morning faded into the afternoon and you hadn’t seen Nestor since he disappeared after he brought laundry downstairs. Some moments you wondered if your father’s concern about him being annoyed enough to quit were valid, but you also figured that Nestor was too proud and stubborn to bail. You walked down the hall and knocked on the open door to what you now considered his room. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, tying his shoes. You smiled slightly as he looked over at you, eyebrows raised.

“You almost ready to go?” you asked, “Ready for another very boring night sitting at the bar watching me like a creep?”

He stood up and walked over to you, and for a moment you were reminded of the size difference between the two of you. he glanced down at you, making you feel very small as your face instantly got hot, “Ready to watch me watch you? Like an even bigger creep?” You chuckled, mostly to try and relieve the tension that was bubbling up inside your body. He brushed past you and went to grab his keys, “My turn to drive.”

You followed his path and opened your mouth to argue, but you knew it was useless. With a sigh you grabbed your purse and followed him out the door to his SUV. He’d driven you a couple places in it, and you had to admit it had way more room than your car when it came to grocery shopping. You still weren’t ready to accept it as your main mode of transportation, though. You could’ve had your own nice car, and your father would’ve preferred it, but you didn’t like feeling so obvious. And, in the case of Nestor’s car, you hated feeling like you were constantly fighting to not touch anything in his pristine vehicle.

“You really don’t need to stay for my whole shift, Nestor,” you said as the two of you walked in the front door, “I’m sure there are more important things you could spend a couple hours doing and then just come pick me up afterwards.”

He shook his head, opening the door for you, “Can’t do it.”

It was a busier shift—Saturday’s always were. You almost felt bad for Nestor, but at least there were enough people to keep him occupied and have him feeling like he was actually serving a purpose by being there with you. He never said anything, but you knew that things had been so quiet lately and it was probably a big change of pace from whatever he was usually doing for the Galindos. Any time you tried to ask or allude to it, though, he went silent.

You finally had a moment to pause and catch your breath for a second when you saw Nestor waving you over. You leaned over the bar so he wouldn’t have to shout whatever it was that he had to say to you, sporting your best Customer Service Smile so the people around you wouldn’t get clued in on anything.

“Guy over in that booth has been eyeing you for the last fifteen minutes.”

You were about to tell him that there were always creeps leering at you while you were working, but when you saw who he was talking about, your facial expression dropped. You saw Nestor’s whole body tense up and he went to stand, but you put your hands over his to stop him. He turned to you, clearly confused and on-edge.

“He’s not a problem. Just a shitty ex-boyfriend. He’s annoying, but not a security concern. You can sit, it’s fine,” you nodded to him to reassure him before plastering a smile back on your face and getting back to your other patrons.

Nestor didn’t like the fact that the man kept staring at you. And despite the fact that you had explicitly told him that he wasn’t an issue, there was still a very strong urge to get up and physically throw him out of the building. For the sake of your job, though, Nestor kept himself seated, keeping an eye on everyone else while paying special attention to the man in the booth.

You don’t know how you missed him coming in, but you almost wished that Nestor hadn’t said anything. Now you couldn’t help but to feel him staring at you and it was a difficult feeling to ignore. It would have been a total abuse of power to ask Nestor to go over and get in his face, and you knew it, but the option was still tempting nonetheless. You were glad that he was at least keeping to himself.

That luck ran out too, though. You were looking across the expanse of the bar to see if anyone needed anything, and sure enough he was standing at the far end, a smug grin on his face because he knew that you were going to have to come over and talk to him. Jade saw the look on your face and was about to intervene but you politely waved her off, knowing that it wasn’t her drama to deal with.

“What can I get you, Marco?” your voice wasn’t nasty, but it wasn’t laden with the typical sweetness you used on other customers.

“Whatever’s good on tap tonight, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that,” you didn’t look at him as you grabbed a glass and picked a beer out of the tap lineup.

“That your new boyfriend?” he nodded towards Nestor as you handed him the glass.

“And if he is?” this conversation wasn’t going in a good direction, but you were trapped in it regardless.

“I was just wondering, because he’s spent an awful lot of the evening staring at you.”

“Could say the same about you,” you scoffed.

You went to walk away when he reached over the bar and grabbed your arm. His grip wasn’t tight, and you knew that the intention wasn’t to hurt you, just to get your attention, but you still had the overwhelming urge to bust his nose. You ripped your arm from his grip, taking a deep breath as you suppressed the desire to cause a scene.

You almost had no say in the matter, though, as Nestor materialized, placing his hands down hard on Marco’s shoulders, “Everything alright over here?”

Your eyes grew wide, not sure at all how this was going to play out. You could see the fear on Marco’s face, but you also knew that he was too proud and too stupid to back down from a fight, even if it was one he would definitely lose. He shrugged in an attempt to get Nestor’s hands off of his shoulders, “We’re fine.”

Nestor’s eyes zeroed in on you, practically begging you to give him the okay to do some damage, “All good, Y/N?”

Before you could answer, Marco spoke up again, “I said we’re fine.”

“I wasn’t fucking asking you,” Nestor’s voice was low but you could tell by the grimace on Marco’s face that he was definitely digging his fingers into his shoulders.

You nodded, “We’re good.”

Nestor released his grip and you could see Marco’s entire body relax. His gaze lingered on you for a moment and you nodded again to let him know that you could handle it. He didn’t say anything else as he made his way back down to where he had originally been sitting at the bar. His eyes never left the two of you though—you could feel his stare even though your back was to him.

“I figured you would’ve gone for a more warm and fuzzy type,” he tried to play it confidently but you could tell that he was shaken up.

You scoffed, “I’d leave while you still can. He decides to come back over again I won’t tell him to let you go.”

The color drained from Marco’s face, but he just couldn’t make himself smart enough to walk away, “Didn’t think you liked pushy guys.”

You braced your hands on your side of the bar and leaned forward slightly, “I don’t like guys who are pushy with me. Now, get the fuck out before you see how pushy he can really be.”

The second threat was enough to get through. He dropped money on the surface of the bar and left, leaving a full glass of beer behind. You chuckled to yourself as you brought the glass down and set it in front of Nestor. The two of you locked eyes for a moment but didn’t say anything about what had happened as you went about the rest of your evening.

You were cleaning up after your shift, once again it was just you, Jade, and Nestor. You and Jade were going back and forth about some of the ridiculous things that you had heard that night as you wiped down counters and tabletops. Nestor scrolled on his phone, a smile tugging at the edges of his mouth as he listened to the two of you.

When there was a lull in the conversation, he looked up and at you, “So, who was your friend that was here tonight?”

“Ah, he got to meet Marco,” Jade chuckled, shaking her head knowingly.

“Marco?” he raised his eyebrows.

You huffed, rolling your eyes, “Yea, Marco. With a capital M for mierda,” you let out a humorless laugh, “We dated a couple years back.”

“Still not over you?”

Jade interjected before you could, “Can you blame him?”

You smiled and shook your head, “I haven’t heard from him in a while. He pops up every now and then to see if he still has a shot. He never does. I turn him down, send him away, and the cycle repeats itself.”

“Too bad you didn’t have a Nestor sooner,” Jade was stacking glasses with a smug grin on her face, “Could’ve gotten rid of him a long time ago.”

“Nestor is not a bouncer for ex-boyfriends,” you laughed.

She laughed and shrugged, “It is a bonus though.”

You shook your head as the two of you finished up closing down the bar. While it was hectic sometimes when it was only the two of you, those were some of your favorite nights. You’d come to think of Jade more as an aunt or a second mother rather than your boss, and you liked the time you got to spend with her.

After getting home and letting Nestor check the house, the two of you took turns showering off the day. You were trying to figure out if Nestor just had multiple of the same sets of sweatpants and lounge shirts, or if he just washed the same set over and over again. You grabbed a fresh pint of ice cream out of the freezer and grabbed one for him too without bothering to ask, knowing that if you gave him the option he would always say no.

You set his down on the coffee table in front of him before taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch from him, giving him a little space. He looked back and forth between you and the ice cream with a slightly confused expression.

“A thank you for scaring off Marco,” you said with a smile as you scooped out a spoonful of your own.

“It’s my job.”

You raised an eyebrow, “That is not in your job description. He is not a threat to my father’s way of life, or mine for that matter. Now just eat the damn ice cream before I add doesn’t eat dessert to my Nestor Notes.”

He let himself smile as he picked up the pint of ice cream, “Thank you,” he took a spoonful, “And for future reference, my favorite flavor is mint chip.”

Your eyes grew wide,  mostly because he actually offered up a piece of personal information, but also at the fact that that was his favorite flavor, “Really? I don’t think I’ve ever met someone with that as their favorite.”

“Now you have,” he nodded before reaching for the controller to turn the TV on.

You chuckled to yourself as you settled back against the couch, pulling your legs up underneath you. You looked over at Nestor, who was slightly hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees. He had the controller in one hand, scrolling through shows, and his ice cream in the other. For a man who didn’t like music while he was driving in the car, he certainly did seem to see eye-to-eye with you when it came to always having the television on in the house for a light layer of background noise. Most of the time neither of you were paying super close attention to what was on, but it was just nice to break up the silence. In that moment, though, both of you felt extremely present.

“I’m one hundred percent eating this whole thing tonight,” you laughed, “It’s counting as dinner and dessert.”

He chuckled, “Sounds good.”

“We can go grocery shopping tomorrow and get real food,” you smiled as you kept your eyes glued to the container in your hands, “I’ll make sure to get you some mint chip.”

He nodded, smiling despite the fact that he wasn’t looking over at you, “I’d appreciate that.”

[softboywriting]

Two Steps Forward, One Step Back | Nathan Bateman | Ex Machina

Summary: You and Nathan hit it off at a tech expo. One thing leads to another and the two of you pull a stunt, claiming you’re married. Things get out of hand, and you end up going to stay with Nathan at his home to avoid people trying to harass you about Nathan’s work. The time you spend together will allow for a real relationship to bloom. [Swearing] [Fake Marriage Trope] [Soft!Nathan] [F!ReaderxNathan]

Word Count: 3.3k

|Masterlist In Bio|

One day you realize Kyoko is missing. You're not sure when she stopped appearing, in fact you can't remember the last time you actually saw her. Last week? No. A month ago? Wait,have you been here that long? Time seems to have lapsed here in the facility with Nathan. You worried about this when you arrived. Or maybe when you took the job. Was it really a job? Everything is a little fuzzy in terms of what you are. An assistant one might think, a housekeeper perhaps? No. You took the job as Nathan Bateman's wife. Yes. Job....well...sort of. Let’s go back to the beginning shall we?

Three months ago you met Nathan at the biggest tech expo in Las Vegas. You weren't exactly there for the inventions and hottest tech on the market. You were a handler, an escort of sorts for the creators and investors from companies attending. Your job was simple. Make things as smooth as possible while the people with disgusting amounts of money make big decisions. It was a great gig. It paid incredibly well for being temporary. But Nathan didn't think it suited you.

The second he laid eyes on you it was all over. You had been nervous for days after learning you were assigned to Nathan Bateman for Thursday, Friday and Saturday of the expo. The Nathan Bateman, creator of Blue Book and the AI Project. You may not be a tech genius or even understand most of the things on display at the expo, but you would have to be living under a rock not to know who this man is and what he has done. He is illusive, handsome, sought after by many people the world over. Nathan is the definition of a sugar daddy if you ever did see one. Notoriously single, generous with his money, beyond genius intellect. He is the whole package.

One thing lead to another after you met Nathan at the expo and before you knew it he had your collar bones a mess with hickies and you were dressed in his sweater to attempt to cover them up. It hadn’t taken long before he was all over you, hands in your hair, on your butt, lips on your neck. You and Nathan had just sparked the moment you got close and you let that fire burn as hot as it could.

Of course all things in life have consequences, good or bad, and as you were leaving the rest area for creators, where the little hands on session had gone down, some press junkie saw you together. Photos were taken. Nathan had not been seen with anyone privately in years. He was never seen with a woman, let alone a woman wearing his sweater and looking a proper mess. It was a scandal to be had.

By the end of Friday Nathan was introducing you as his wife, a plan he had come up with on the fly. He had even procured a huge diamond ring for you too. Somehow you were playing along with all of this. Nathan offered to pay you, just for the appearance because it would be good for the company that he was seen as a man like any other, nothing more needed to come of your relations. It was fine. You were getting paid more than you could hope to make in your lifetime and getting to hang out with Nathan Bateman who you actually clicked with and liked to be around. Win win. You had it made. In less than 24 hours you were to be done with all of this and have cash in pocket to do whatever you wanted with.

Until.

A week after you had your crazy weekend with Nathan you were being followed. People kept showing up at your part time job in the travel agency downtown. They asked questions about Nathan, about his work. You didn't know anything. You were half tempted to tell everyone it was fake, that he never even properly kissed you, but Nathan paid you to be quiet, to play along. You signed his NDA. After a man followed you home from work and watched your apartment for two days, that's when you decided to reach out to Nathan. You could call the police and have the man removed, but there would just be others. This wasn’t a matter for the police, it was a matter for Nathan to handle.

Reaching a man like Nathan wasn't easy. He had left you a business card. A number that went to Blue Book human resources. It wasn't a way of contacting him directly, but it was. On the card was scribbled a word. "REQUIEM" You called the number and listened to the prompts. None reached an operator or customer service line. It seemed that no matter what you did it sent you to an automated system. Eventually you got so annoyed you just said the word requiem as if it were a prompt. Sure enough the phone started ringing, connecting to a line.

"Hello?"

"Nathan?"

"How did you get this number?"

"You gave it to me. At the expo." You tell him that it's you and he sighs heavily in relief. "I need your help."

"My help? With what?"

"I'm being harassed because of the expo." Your voice trembles and you realize how much of a toll this is taking on you. "People have followed me to my home."

"Fuck. Can you get to an airport first thing in the morning?"

"Yes."

"Perfect, give me your email. I'll send you everything you need to get away. Pack your bags for a few months. I'll bring you to my facility as a guest until this blows over or we decide what to do next. It's the least I could do."

And that's how you ended up in his home in the middle of nowhere Alaska for the last month and a half. Your whole world uprooted because you decided that a few hundred thousand dollars was worth playing fake wife to the country's richest and most sought after man for two nights. It was so stupid at hindesight, but here you are actually the happiest you've ever been and connecting with Nathan on a deeper level than you thought possible. The two of you just understand each other, it's as if you're two sides to one coin.

______________________

"So, where is Kyoko?"

Nathan looks over from his desk, peering at you over his glasses. You're leaning against the door frame in a nightgown you know he likes. "She's in storage."

"Why?"

"Because I decommissioned her." He turns his attention back to the computer and begins typing.

You step in and he lets out a little warning hum. You know better than to bother him while he's toiling away on code. Being here for this long has been a learning experience with his reclusiveness, but also a lesson on reading his moods. He's not irritated, yet. "Why did you do that?"

"Kitten, you are distracting me."

Kitten. The nickname he picked out day one. Who gives a guest a nickname?

"I'm curious."

"I'm working. You know the rules."

You lean against the desk and he flicks his gaze to you for a moment as your nightgown rides up your thighs. His rules were simple. Don’t bother him while he works, no kissing, no sex. Really you thought the rules were ridiculous. You were meant to be a guest, hiding while the world forgets about your fake relationship. But things don’t go as planned do they? The two of you have been pushing the boundaries of entering a relationship, though it has never been discussed.

"We haven't talked in days."

Nathan sighs irritably. "I am on to something that could be the greatest breakthrough in AI history." He pushes his chair back and pats his lap. "Come sit."

You do as told and plop down onto his lap.

"Now, if I promise to go to bed in two hours will you stop asking questions?" He runs a hand up your back, fingertips dancing against your skin delicately and making you shiver.

"That's a long time. It's already late."

"My patience is wearing thin."

"Alright deal."

"Good girl." He swats your butt gently and you slide off his lap. "Go make that bed nice and warm for me."

You take one last look back and he's already returned to typing. "One more thing."

"Nope. Get out."

"But-"

"Out, Kitten."

"Nathan, come on."

He stops typing and even in the dim light you can tell he is tense and irritated. This is the time to stop pushing his rules. "Go, or I won't be nice."

You cross the room quickly to kiss his cheek and then hurry from the room. You know he is probably going to do something to get back at you for disrupting him amid a coding session. But that's fine. You like seeing him break his own rules just for you.

__________________

Nathan comes to bed some time late in the night. You just recently began sleeping in his room, it’s what really started to blur the lines of what you were to each other. He had invited you to sleep with him after you found that your brain seemed to wander when you were alone in your cold windowless room in the inner workings of the complex and sleep never came easy. Nathan's room is upstairs, with a view out to the forest should you wish to set the windows to day mode. His bed is huge, elevated on a platform, covered in blankets and plush pillows. One may think Nathan's bed would be neat and clean like the rest of the house but no. It's like a nest of comfort, a bog of pillows that you could get lost in.

"Hey, I can tell you're awake."

"Just woke up."

"Everything is okay, you can sleep."

You arch back against him, butt pressed into his legs. "I still wanna know about Kyoko."

"Don't worry about it."

You yawn and he wraps arm arm around your chest. "It's weird. You said she was fine."

"Hush." He kisses your ear. "Sleep."

You fall silent, stewing in your thoughts. What purpose could he have for decommissioning Kyoko? She seemed fine. He said she had been working for years seamlessly. It just didn't make sense.

_____________________

Morning comes and the bed is empty. Nothing new. You wonder what it would be like to wake up to a sleepy eyed Nathan. Bet he'd look so cute. He's so hot without his glasses on. Well, he is hot with them on too but there is just something different about it you can’t describe.

"You wanna go for a walk?"

You look to the doorway and Nathan has his cargo pants and a jacket on. "I'm not awake yet."

"Suit yourself sweetheart. Call if you need me."

"Yep."

You throw your arm over your face. Your dream is coming back to you. It makes you shiver. You had been riding Nathan, hips rolling down into him desperately, his cock filling you so full. God you couldn't wait to do everything with him, if you ever do. You haven't even kissed yet. Even at the expo, he kept his mouth away froms yours, letting his lips travel elsewhere.

Nathan made his rules very clear at the expo and again when you arrived at the facility. No sex. No kissing. You suppose it has to do with attachments for him. You're just supposed to be staying with him until everything settles down around your fake marriage stunt. It's not supposed to be a real thing, but like you mentioned, everything has become blurry and unclear around your relationship with each other. Of course you both know that you have feelings for each other. Head kisses, throat, shoulder and back kisses are now allowed. Bed sharing is allowed. Cuddling. Snuggling. Talking and sharing memories is allowed. You think it's a matter of time before one of you fucks up and throws caution to the wind. What kind of host shares their bed with their guest? What are you doing here?

You crawl out of bed and grab some sweatpants on the floor along with a hoodie. If you hurry you can catch up with Nathan on the trail. Assuming he took the trail.  

The air is crisp, a typical fall morning for Alaska. It's beautiful, so clean, so easy to breathe. Nothing like back home. You jog along the trail that leads away from the back porch and sure enough you find Nathan walking with his hands in his pockets.

"Hey! Wait up!"

Nathan turns and stops, smiling softly at you. "Thought you were too tired."

"I changed my mind."

"Uh huh." He plucks at your hoodie. "This is mine."

"Yeah I just grabbed something in a hurry." You stuff your hands in the front pocket.

He runs a hand through your hair, fingertips lingering along the ends. "I like it on you."

"Thanks? It's just a hoodie."

Nathan pulls his gloves from his pocket and passes them to you. "Take these. I don't need you to lose a finger to the cold."

"You won't make me a cool robot one if I do?"

He pulls the gloves back teasingly. "Mmm, on second thought let's see if I can actually do that."

"No!" You giggle and he allows you to take them.

The two of you walk along in silence just enjoying the outdoors and everything it has to offer. Eventually you end up at the bottom of a waterfall. It's loud, beautiful, almost icy when you touch the water at the edge where it pools.  

"Do you want to know why I decommissioned Kyoko?" His sudden choice of topic startles you but it’s nothing new. He was always jumping on subjects randomly.

"Yes."

"Because of you."

"What?" You turn away from the water and walk to where he's leaning against a tree. "What did I do?"

"You took her place."

"What? She was your housekeeper and like an assistant or whatever. I'm neither, I'm just a house guest aren't I?"

“Just a house guest...” Nathan chuckles. "Kyoko was everything for me while I was here alone. A friend, a helper, my lover."

Your eyebrows shoot up. "She could fuck?"

"Of course she could fuck." He waves his hand dismissively. "When I say you took her place I mean in my life. I felt that she was unfair to you, that once you moved into my bed she didn't belong anymore. Kyoko is a great distraction but she isn't human, she doesn't think for herself, or feel for me. She doesn't connect like you and I do. It felt wrong to have her keep me company when you are here."

"But when I leave you'll bring her back out."

"No." He purses his lips and looks down. "Actually I wanted to ask you about that."

"Leaving? Have I overstayed my welcome?"

"Quite the opposite actually."

"The opposite? I haven't stayed long enough?"

Nathan pulls his hands from his pockets and gestures for you to come closer. You do as he asks and he cradles your face. "If you're interested, I'd like to actually start a relationship with you."

"Does that mean we can stop dancing around the edges of whatever this is between us? Because I don't think house guests normally sleep in their host's bed, or wear his clothes, or get neck kisses and give shoulder massages."

He smiles and licks his lips. "I wanted to see how far we could go until one of us broke down and drew a line."

"Nathan, I think we probably would have started showering together next if you hadn't said something by now." You laugh softly. "But yeah, I wanna see where this goes."

"So you'll stay with me a little longer?"

"As long as you'll have me."

"Don't say that." He puts his hands on your hips. "I might keep you forever. Might make you my wife for real."

"I'm not doing much for the rest of my life, so why not?"

Nathan laughs and it makes your heart swell. He rarely does so, it's such a treat to hear. "Never thought I'd meet someone I connect with so completely. Really I didn't think I'd ever meet anyone."

"Why not?"

"I'm not exactly social as you can tell by my living situation. But also I didn't think I deserved someone. Like I deserved to be alone, and be the way I am because I was gifted with such talent. I sort of accepted that it was a trade off for my intellect."

You lay your hand on his chest and his heart is pounding. "No one deserves to be alone. No one."

He smiles weakly. "When you called that day, saying you needed help because of the stunt we pulled, I knew it was you. I knew you were my chance at love in this life. There was no way I was going to let you slip through my fingers a second time."

"Second time?"

"I didn't want to leave you at the expo. I wanted to bring you home with me, I wanted to show you everything. But I knew I pushed it already with the wife stunt, and I knew you had a life and I couldn't be so selfish as to take you away from everything while chasing a high I got."

You smile softly and kiss his cheek. "I probably would have gone with you. That was the best weekend of my life and I didn't want it to end."

"I'm glad you let me play with you in that rest area and we got caught. If we hadn't I don't think we would be here right now."

"Don't make it sound so dirty."

"It was a little dirty." He kisses your cheek. "Hot too. You were so ready to just let me do whatever."

"Nathan!" You giggle and he presses his lips to yours. The sensation takes your breath away.

He cradles your face and slides a hand into your hair. He licks into your mouth and you let out a soft whimper. You grip his jacket and he turns you around so your back is against the tree. "Thought this would go a little differently."

"Yeah? How so?"

He presses another kiss to your lips. "Thought we'd be in the house, maybe curled up by the fire or in bed."

"Nathan Bateman a romantic? I'm shocked."

"I live to shock people." He chuckles. "I shocked my investors and my agent with our little marriage announcement."

"You didn't tell anyone it was fake? Not even your agent?"

"Not yet." He grins. "I like to make him sweat a little."

"You're mean."

"Sometimes."

"Well now we've established that this is happening, why don't we head back to the house? Are you free today?"

Nathan takes your hand in his and steps away from the tree. "I'm free every day."

"No you're not."

"I'm free every day you want me from now on." He threads your fingers together. "I promise."

"That's a big promise to make."

"I'll keep it." He brings your hand up and kisses it. "I'm a man of my word, you know that."

"Yes you are."

"Come on, I'm tired of waiting." He pulls you along the path and you walk quickly to keep his pace. "The last month and half have been torture."

You get ahead of him and pull your hand out of his. He raises an eyebrow. He knows what you're thinking. He knows you're going to run for the house and make him chase you.

"Don't you do it."

"Too late." You take off and he follows in hot pursuit. "You gotta catch me if you wanna keep me!"

His arm encircles your waist the moment you reach the porch and he tumbles you both down onto the sun warmed smooth wood. He rolls you under him and pins you by your arms. "You're mine now."

"I guess I am." You smile big and he captures your lips with his once more. “I wouldn’t be anyone else's.”

End .

-----------

Header by delicate-venus

Thank you for reading! Please reblog if you read or enjoyed and support content creators like myself - A

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted works.*****

[agent-cupcake]

Garreg Mach Café 

Episode One: Dead Eye (Dimitri x Reader)

Yes this is a coffee shop AU and yes I intend to do a few of these because I am basic and this is fun to work on while violently procrastinating and yes I’m a little sorry. Just a little.

//

From the moment you keyed your employee code into the machine and clocked in until your shoes met the cracked pavement covering the parking lot out back, the hours you spent selling coffee and faking smiles were slotted into a strange fugue state in your mind. Existence in only the most technical sense.

Morning shifts were the worst for that sense of customer service depersonalization. After the initial rush, which you usually got through with the crutch of obscene amounts of caffeine and focus, weekdays always fell away into an exhausting kind of lull. You might as well have been living in a private world where only you, the radio with a station you weren’t allowed to change, and a minifridge of overpriced mineral waters that needed restocking existed. Which was pretty fine, all things considered. The downtime was nice.

Until you were disturbed by the swooshing sound of the opening door, a rush of cold outside air, and the distinctively familiar jingle of bells. At this point, you were pretty sure that perky tinkling sound activated some sort of twisted fight or flight mechanism deep in your gut. Despite that, you stood up straight from organizing the display and put on your best service smile, sidling up to the register. Just in time to have the air knocked right out of your lungs.

Well, not literally. You were pretty sure that cliché was a line used in books to convey the inherent frailty of the female condition. There was no such romanticism to your reaction. It would have been more accurate to say that your caffeine-hyped brain shorted out when you got a good look at the customer who had just come in because you were simple and weak and that amount of handsome on your abysmal amount of sleep made you forgot how to breathe for a moment or twenty.  

The most obvious and immediately striking aspect of the man was the eyepatch. Not some basic pastel goth kind of white bandage attached with ribbons, but a properly utilitarian black piece that cut harsh lines of black across his pretty blond hair. Had you ever seen somebody in real life wearing one? Your spastic thoughts lingered on that for a second before deciding it didn’t really matter. It was barely even a factor in your undoubtedly impolite staring. You dealt with exhausted people from every demographic while selling, making, and serving coffee. Snappy, loopy, mean, giggly, you knew sleep deprivation in nearly every form and function. Never did you realize in full that it also came in its premium form: devastatingly handsome.

He was gorgeous. Like, drop-dead level gorgeous. So, yeah, maybe it wasn’t too corny for you to say that this tall blond with a sharp jaw, nice cheekbones, and broad shoulders covered in a dark blazer/blue sweater combo of expensive if understated business casual took your breath away. You were, after all, occasionally subject to the frailty of the female condition.

Be professional! Your sane mind —or at least the part that wasn’t dominated by the giddy mix of shy nerves and creepy admiration— urged.

Right. Professional.

“Good morning!” you greeted him with belated cheerfulness, managing to pull your jaw up from the floor before he stopped in front of the counter. “Are you ready to order, or do you need a moment?” He didn’t respond at first, which almost made your smile falter. His eye, ringed in the telltale shadow of a sleepless night, was blue. Really, ultra blue. You forced yourself to keep up the act, to stick to the script. “If this is your first time here, I could walk you through the menu.”

The man cleared his throat, shaking his head a little as he glanced —awkwardly, like he wasn’t actually looking but he needed a reason to avert his gaze— up to the menu. He’d gathered about half of his longish hair into a tail in the back, but the shorter strands framing his face fluttered with the movement. Did you have a thing for guys with long hair? You couldn’t remember, but you were pretty sure you did now. “No… Thank you,” he replied somewhat apologetically. His voice was low, holding this kind of rough, husky tone. In other words, it was nearly enough to send you right back out of your customer service mode and into a swooning catastrophe. “Could you make a dead eye?”

The request was made, accepted, and then it registered. And, really, you liked to think you were a good person. You really, really did.

“A dead… eye…” you repeated slowly, internally screaming at yourself to not stare at the glaring black eyepatch covering his right eye or crack a smile at the horrible joke. Good Lord. You didn’t like to think that you were a bad person, or a mean person. You were a professional, you’d dealt with a lot while keeping a straight face. So you cleared your throat. “A black coffee with a triple espresso shot, right. Is that to go?”

“Yes,” he agreed with a sharp nod, ready with cash and very obviously not realizing the dark humor of what he’d ordered or the reason you were trying very, very hard not to make this all very, horribly awkward. No, he looked exhausted. And attractive. You were a very bad person. So you told him the total and broke the twenty and quickly turned to make the drink because a good cup of coffee was just about the only way you could apologize for your wicked, terrible thoughts.  

Since there were no other customers queuing up, he was fine to wait at the counter, watching you make the drink. You pretended like you couldn’t feel his intense gaze, bobbing your head to the piped-in indie music playing in the background. The song was awful, truly, you really didn’t think there was anything you wanted to hear less than some young nobody with a guitar butchering the English language in an ode to their unrequited love. At the very least, not at ten-thirty in the morning on a Tuesday. At least you didn’t mess up, so there was something to be said for your so-called professionalism.

“Here you go,” you said as you handed him the to-go cup with as wide of a smile as you could muster all the while working very, very hard not to think that it was a dead eye for a dead eye. You were going to hell.

Ignorant to your thoughts, he met your gaze intently —his iris wasn’t any sort of bright, intimidating electric blue, but something softer like cornflower or powder or the dreamy gentle pale afternoon sky—  and accepted the cup with a black gloved hand. “You have my most sincere thanks.”

You heard yourself laugh a little in response, but it was a bright and overly jittery sound, not only because you were trying desperately to be polite but because you couldn’t help but feel a bubble of strangely excitable disbelief that he would be so serious about something that was so mundane. Not to mention the fact that he was so handsome or that his voice was as candid as his words implied and gruff in a way you really liked. At the very least, it drove out all intrusively poor taste jokes.

“Oh, it was nothing,” you said, the words coming from your lips without so much as a thought that it was definitely not apart of the preapproved corporate script. “Wait ‘till you see what I can do with the mixed drinks.”

He considered you for what felt like ages before finally nodding. “I will look forward to it.” Despite the lack of irony, there wasn’t even a hint of a smile playing on his lips to match your own. Just more of that discomforting, intense sincerity that you couldn’t tell if you liked or not. And that was basically the end of that because you had no idea what to say other than to wish him a good day. He left, your handsome strange customer, the bells jingling merrily behind him.

After the door closed to the temperamental winter air, you melted, bracing your arms on the counter as you felt jittery nerves work through you. It took a moment to collect yourself, but when you did, you realized that he’d left a great tip, too. Fantastic tip, actually. Which, ultimately, was what got you. There was something uniquely sexy about rich guys who were kind to the underpaid and overworked wait staff. 

That comforting customer service fugue state didn’t return after that. You were too caught up wondering about his name, or why he was so tired that he’d need such a potent drink, or if you were to take his words to mean that he was coming back. You probably shouldn’t have hoped for that as much as you did, but you could blame it on the inherent frailty of the female condition.

[self-loving-vampire]

Ultima VII: The Black Gate (1992)

Ultima 7 was pretty much my introduction to RPGs, and I could not have asked for a better pair of games to ignite a lifelong passion into that genre. There is a real reason why this is still considered one of the best RPGs ever made.

While Ultima 7 is often discussed as a singular entity, it is actually two separate full-length games with one expansion each. For this post I will focus on the first one, Ultima VII: The Black Gate, as well as its expansion: Forge of Virtue.

I recommend playing the game using Exult, which adds some quality of life features (such as a feeding hotkey and a “use all keys” hotkey) as well as the option to use higher quality audio packs, implement bug fixes, and change the font into something easier on the eyes.

Summary

The protagonist of the Ultima series is “the Avatar”, a blank slate isekai protagonist from our world who has previously travelled to the world of Britannia several times and saved it from many threats, also becoming the shining paragon of the virtues meant to guide its people.

In this game, you once again cross the portal to Britannia to save it from a new and mysterious extradimensional threat. As soon as you arrive, you immediately discover two things:

1- A violent ritualistic murder has just taken place.

2- There is suspicious new organization called “The Fellowship” gaining adherents throughout the land.

It is up to you to investigate these developments.

Freedom

In terms of freedom, the Black Gate has plenty overall but there are areas where it is not quite there.

Once you can manage to get the password to get out of the locked-down town of Trinsic you are free to go nearly anywhere in the game right away and have multiple means of transportation to accomplish this, such as moongates or ships.

And there are some very real rewards to exploring like this as well, such as various treasure caches and other interesting findings. 

The world is actually very small by modern standards, especially when settlements occupy so much of it, but both the towns and the wilderness areas are dense with content.

Notably, the game also allows you to perform various activities. From stealing to making a honest living by baking bread (which is something you can do thanks to how interactive the environment is) or gathering eggs at a farm.

Where it falls short is in terms of having multiple possible solutions for quests. Generally there is only one correct option for how to complete them.

That said, there is a bad ending you might be able to find in addition to the canonical good ending.

Character Creation/Customization

This is one of the big minuses of the game. While you can select your name and gender (and with Exult also have a wider selection of portraits) that is about it for character creation.

All characters will start with the same stats and there are no character classes. You can develop your stats through training and specialize through your choice of equipment, but by the end of the Forge of Virtue expansion you will have maxed stats and the best weapon in the game (a sword) regardless, and you will definitely need to cast a few spells to progress the main quest as well.

This can make every playthrough feel much like the last, as there isn’t that much of a way to vary how your character develops or what abilities they’ll end up having. You will always be a master of absolutely everything in the end unless you go out of your way to avoid doing the Forge of Virtue expansion.

Story/Setting

While the game is a bit too obvious and heavy-handed about its villains, there are still many interesting storylines in the game that deal with mature subjects that remain relevant today, such as cults, drug abuse, workplace exploitation, and xenophobia.

However, the setting as a whole is greater than any individual storyline taking place within. With the exception of most guards and bandits, every single NPC in the game is an individual with a name, schedule, living space, and defined personality. This was not the norm in 1992 and even today there’s not many games that really implement this well. The world is also very detailed in terms of things like the services available to you, the general interactivity of the game world, and the sheer amount of things that populate every corner of it.

The initial murder is not only a strong hook for investigation but also a shocking scene in its own right. The Guardian also proves to have a significant presence as a villain, using a mental link to remotely taunt you based on the context of what is happening. For example, if your companions die he may offer you some exaggerated, mocking pity.

Immersion

There is something very interesting and comfortable about just watching the various inhabitants of a town just go about their daily lives. They work during the day, eat at certain times (either at home or at one of the many taverns in the land), and sleep at night. They don’t just strangely repeat one single action during the day either, they may do things like open windows when the weather is nice or turn candles and streetlamps on at night.

In terms of immersion, Ultima 7 is my primary example of a game that does an excellent job of it even if there’s some weirdness going on with the setting. Even after having played so many more games throughout my life, only a few are on the same level as either part of Ultima 7 when it comes to immersion.

Gameplay

There are three broad aspects to the gameplay here that I want to discuss.

The first is combat. It is actually simple enough that you can call it almost entirely automatic. You simply enable combat mode by pressing C and your party will automatically go and fight nearby hostile enemies based on whatever combat orders you have selected for them (by default, attacking the closest enemy).

This is certainly better than having an outright bad or annoying combat system as the whole process is simple and painless, but I still wish there was more depth to it. Your stats, and especially your equipment, still play a role but other than things like pausing to use items or cast spells the whole process is very uninvolved.

I kind of wish there was more depth to it, but at least the other two areas of the gameplay are reasonably good.

The next aspect of gameplay is dialogue, which uses dialogue trees for the first time in the series. Previously, it required typing in keywords, which are retained but as dialogue options you can just click on rather than remember and type.

While the keywords are not really written as natural language most of the time (requiring some imagination to determine the specifics of your dialogue), the system is very easy to use regardless. It definitely lacks depth compared to something like Fallout: New Vegas, but so do most games.

The third and most notable thing is the way you interact with the world in general. It is both extremely simple and very immersive at the same time.

Ultima 7 is a game that can be played entirely with the mouse (though keyboard hotkeys make everything much more comfortable). You can right click a space to walk there, you can left click something to identify what it is, and you can use double left click to interact.

For example, double left click over an NPC to talk to them (or attack them, if combat mode is enabled), double left click a door to open it, double left click a loaf of bread to feed it to someone, and so on.

But there is more. By holding your click over an item and dragging it, you can move it. This has various applications beyond just being how you pick things up and add them to your inventory. For example, sometimes objects may be hidden beneath other objects, or objects may need to be placed in a specific location.

There are some downsides to this system. Particularly, the issue that keeping your inventory organized can be time-consuming when it has to be done by manually dragging objects around, and this can also make looting relatively slow.

Despite this, I think this kind of interaction system has a lot of potential. It just has some clunky aspects to be ironed out.

Aesthetics

Ultima 7 was very good-looking for its time, and although modern players will not be very impressed by how it looks or sounds, it still remains easily legible in a way that some other old games are not. That, and the ability to identify anything with just a left click, makes this a very easy game to make out at the very least.

Some of the music of this game is very distinctive too, and will likely stay with you after a full playthrough.

In terms of style, the Black Gate does have a bit of an identity while still having a very familiar medieval fantasy setting with things like trolls, animated skeletons, dragons, and liches. While there are aspects that help the setting distinguish itself a bit, they are relatively subtle.

If I had to describe the feeling of playing this, I’d call it “open and laid back”. While the main quest deals with a looming threat to the entire world, the game does not follow this overly closely at first, letting you deal with it at your own pace and without having your exploration options limited by the story.

In fact, when I was young I often just ignored that and went to live in a creepy ruin in the swamp.

(Don’t expect many pictures in these reviews, but have one of my “childhood home.”)

I’d say that Ultima 7′s second part (Serpent Isle) has a much stronger and also darker and more isolating atmosphere overall and that has a lot of appeal to me in particular, but the Black Gate is definitely more open and less linear, and I also appreciate that.

Accessibility

It pleases me to say that Ultima 7 remains extremely easy to pick up and play. Even setting up Exult is not complicated in the least.

The gameplay is intuitive and simple, the UI is minimal, stats are basic (and not even that important), and the combat is automatic. I expect that this is not only the easiest point of entry into the Ultima series as a whole but also likely even easier to get into than many modern RPGs!

It does have some aspects that may be a bit clunky, like all the inventory-related dragging, but it’s definitely not obscure or complicated even to someone who has not read the manual (though I’d still recommend doing that). I literally played this game as a tiny child who could barely read or understand English and still got really into it.

The one thing I’d like to point out is that the game uses a type of copy protection where at a couple of story points (including an extremely early one to leave the first town) you will be asked some questions that require using the manual and external map to answer. You can just google the answers for these.

Conclusion

As I write more of these reviews there will be many games that are interesting, but deeply flawed. Games that are worth trying out but maybe not finishing, as well as games that had interesting ideas but that I can’t entirely recommend due to serious problems that will easily put people off.

But I do not think the Black Gate is such a game. I can easily recommend it with no qualifiers despite the fact that it is almost 30 years old. This is really a game that all RPG fans should at the very least try for a few hours, and not only for its historical significance. It is genuinely a good game worthy of its praise.

I will review its sequel, Ultima VII Part 2: Serpent Isle, next.

[hailing-stars]

@febuwhump day 19 sleep deprivation 

resentfully awake

summary

“You are so annoying.” Peter growls, low and animalistic, and for a few glorious seconds, he thinks he’s scared Tony away. That is, until the tugging begins on his arm again.

“I cannot send you to bed without dinner, Pete. Your freaky fast metabolism would put your body into starvation mode. Remember the last time you went too long without food? And you fainted -”

“-how can I faint if I’m already asleep?”

OR

Peter is tired after a day at Disney World, and Tony attempts to get him to stay awake through dinner. 

Peter falls backwards on his room’s king sized bed, and shuts his eyes, tight. He’s ready to sleep. He didn’t think he would be, but a full day being dragged around Disney World by Morgan’s whims is something capable of tiring even a half-spider out.

He’s drifting in a state of half consciousness when the door to his designed room in the hotel suite flies open. Peter sits up, and cracks his eyes open. The terror herself stands in the doorway, still wearing her Elsa wig and Star Wars tunic.

She waves a lightsaber around, and eventually points it at him. “Daddy says it’s time for dinner.”

Peter groans and falls backwards on the bed, letting his eyes slide shut once again. “Tell him I’m not hungry. I only know sleep.”

“He said you’d say that,” says Morgan. “And he said to tell you that he doesn’t care. You have to eat your veggies.”

“Tell him I’m in a coma.”

“I don’t think people in comas can talk,” she tells him, in a matter of fact tone, letting the end of the lightsaber hit the ground.  

“Just tell him I’m not coming to dinner,” says Peter.

“Okkkaayyy,” says Morgan, in a sing-song voice, “but he probably won’t listen.”

The frozen Jedi skips off, slashing the air with the plastic laser sword, leaving Peter to bask in the quiet. He shuts his eyes again and crawls further up on the bed, so his legs aren’t hanging off and so he can rest his head on the pillow.

It’s so soft. The pillow. The comforter. The bed underneath. He can fall asleep right then and there, in the same clothes he’d sweated in all day long, and he almost does, but he’s pulled back to reality by someone annoyingly tugging on his arm.

“Pete,” says Tony. “Wakey wakey Cinderella.”

“Cinderella doesn’t even make sense,” mutters Peter, into his pillows, beyond annoyed. “Sleeping beauty is the one who was in a magic coma.”

“Yep, I know,” says Tony. “I was testing you. Asleep people don’t know their Disney factoids.”

“You are so annoying.” Peter growls, low and animalistic, and for a few glorious seconds, he thinks he’s scared Tony away. That is, until the tugging begins on his arm again.

“I cannot send you to bed without dinner, Pete. Your freaky fast metabolism would put your body into starvation mode. Remember the last time you went too long without food? And you fainted -”

“-how can I faint if I’m already asleep?”

There’s more tugging on his shoulder, and Peter wants to cry into his pillow.

“Come on, Peter, we’ll go somewhere good.”

“We’re in Disney World. It’s all good.”

“Uh, no,” says Tony. “You are so wrong. There are about fifty different things today I saw on menus that shouldn’t be allowed to be counted as food.”

Peter stays still and doesn’t talk anymore and hopes that Tony will take pity on him and leave him be. Tony doesn’t. Because of course he doesn’t. Because Tony is just as stubborn, or maybe even more stubborn than Peter.

He grips his arm and pulls him until he’s sliding off the bed, and forced to stand.

“I hate you.”

“As long as you hate me while you’re eating dinner, I’m okay with it,” says Tony. He pushes him out of the door and away from his bed.

*

Peter doesn’t know the name of the restaurant they end up inside. He doesn’t even know what Tony has ordered for him, since the effort to open up a menu and peer inside of it was too great for him, and he’s too annoyed to pay attention to Tony’s words when the waitress comes around to get their order.

“Maybe we should’ve ordered room service,” says Pepper, watching him with concern. He’s wobbling in the booth, and Morgan has to push him in the other direction to prevent him from falling on her. He hits the wall of the restaurant, and stays leaning against it. “He looks ready to pass out.”

“Nonsense,” says Tony. “He’s young. A little sleep deprivation is good for him.”

“You know that’s a torture method, right?” asks Peter, letting his eyes flicker open and shut, open and shut.

“Of course, pal,” says Tony. “So is starvation.”

Peter opens his eyes just to roll them, then shuts them again to drift off while they wait for their food.

His half sleep is filled with talk from Morgan about her plans for their final day at Disney World, the low music playing, and incoherent chatterings from the rest of the customers in the restaurant.

He’s brought back to being fully, resentfully awake, when a plate of food is placed in front of him. Tony snaps his fingers in front of his face when the smell of his dinner isn’t enough to convince him to open his eyes.

His food blurs together on his plate. His stomach makes a funny growl, and although it smells really good, it just looks like way too much effort to actually eat. That is, until Tony asks him if he needed to be fed via the airplane method. Then he suddenly has enough energy.

“You’re like a  petulant child when you’re tired.”

“And you’re more annoying,” says Peter, talking with his mouth full.

“Daddy’s annoying all the time,” says Morgan, making their entire outing to the restaurant completely worth it, in Peter’s eyes, causing him to admit, only to himself, that the food’s good enough to have made it worth it all on its own.

*

It’s almost ten when they make it back to the suite, and Peter manages to change into his pajamas before climbing under the covers.

He shuts his eyes.

Sleep doesn’t come.

It turns out Disney World is loud at night. Even when most people are in their rooms for the night.

Peter can hear it all. It’s like the apartment times a hundred, with the added bonus of the creaking metal of the rides abandoned for the night.

He flops around on the bed, tossing and turning, and growing more and more frustrated every second he isn’t asleep. He gives up, eventually, and wanders out into the suite’s living area to find Tony nursing a small glass of scotch and watching some late night show on TV.  

The lights are dim. The laughs coming from the TV are gentle, and so are Tony’s. He doesn’t even notice Peter’s presence until he plops down on the couch next to him.

“Thought you’d be lost in your dreams by now, kid.”

“Can’t sleep,” mutters Peter. Full sentences are too much effort. He sinks further into the couch and eyes Tony’s scotch. He reaches for it. “Maybe a little drink might help.”

“Yeah, that’s a nice try,” says Tony, slapping his hand away. “But it’s gonna be a nope from me.”

Peter laments by whining words inaudible to humans. It’s a torturous thing. To be this tired and not able to sleep.

“Something on your mind?” asks Tony.

They both have experienced these restless nights. Thanks to their responsibilities, and the guilt their minds forces on them, and the horrors in their past that always seem to crawl their way up to the forefront of their minds when the lights are switched off.

“No,” says Peter. “Just too loud here.”

“Ahh,” says Tony. He takes a slow slip of his scotch, and creases his forehead in thought. “Why don’t you put on your headphones?”

The headphones Tony designed for him, with his extra sensitive senses in mind, are without a doubt one of the best gifts Peter’s ever received. His memory’s just a little fuzzy sometimes.

“I forgot them. They’re at home.”

“Oh, I see,” says Tony. “It’s too bad I was too busy being annoying and didn’t grab them for you on my way out of the house, what with my genius brain having foresaw this exact situation.”

Peter looks at him, and frowns, while Tony shuffles himself off the couch and disappears into his and Pepper’s room, sadly taking his glass of scotch with him. He returns with Peter’s beloved headphones.

Peter’s so relieved, so happy, he wants to cry.

“You don’t get them unless you say I’m not annoying,” Tony tells him.

“That’s blackmail.” Peter crosses his arms.  

Tony smiles annoyingly. “And?”

“Fine,” says Peter. “You’re not annoying.”

He reaches for the headphones, but Tony snatches them away, raising his hand higher and holding the prize there.

“And I’m the greatest mentor in all existence.”

“You’re really going to make me say that?”

“If you want your headphones.”

“Fine. And you’re the greatest mentor in all existence,” says Peter. Tony smiles, and hands over the headphones. “But you’re still the worst.”

Tony messes up his hair, causing it to stick up even more than it already had been, and Peter catches him off guard by hugging him. He’s sleep deprived. He’s tired, and he’s so damn appreciative of Tony and his genius brain that he just wants a hug.

“Thanks, Tony,” says Peter. His eyes slid shut, and he rests his head on Tony’s chest. “You’re a pillow now.”

“Yep,” says Tony. “And you’re losing your mind to exhaustion. Let’s get you to bed.”

He lets Tony direct him back to his room, into his bed, where the headphones are slipped over his ears and the world goes quiet. Tony tells him goodnight, but Peter can only understand him by reading his lips through his blurring vision. His eyes slid shut, and that time, he’s finally allowed to slip into his dream

[dickspeightjrs]

Nut Up, Novak (au / 1.7k words)

Prompt 13 from my ‘30 Destiel Prompts’ for @caslikescoffeeandfreckles

ao3 link

Castiel hummed to himself. He felt like a bumbly bee, happily buzzing around the kitchen. He was packing up a lunch to have on a picnic date with Dean. 

The thing between them was still a little new. They’d only been on a handful of dates since they’d met at the library where Castiel worked. 

Castiel had been stacking and rearranging the shelves when this man had come sauntering up to him loudly asking about a book he needed. 

After telling him, politely, to lower his voice because the green-eyed man was getting glares from the college students trying to cram for finals, Castiel took him to the correct area that he needed in order to find the book he was looking for.

“Thanks, man, you’re a life-saver.” He said. “My nerd-ass brother needs it for his final but he’s deep in study mode.”

“You’re most welcome.” Castiel assured, with his customer service smile tacked onto his face. 

The man hesitated for a moment, raking his eyes up Castiel’s body, taking in the slacks and sweater vest Castiel was wearing. “How do you remember where all the books are in this place?”

Castiel shrugged, trying not to feel self conscious at the stranger’s examining gaze. “I’ve read a few from each section, which helps a little, I suppose. I also happen to enjoy my job.” 

“Wow,” he said, “you must be super smart.” He grinned a lop-sided smile. 

Castiel blushed. “Well, I don’t know about that. But thank you.”

The lop-sided smile on the man’s face turned into a cheeky grin. “So,” he said, leaning his shoulder against the bookshelf he’d just picked up a book from, “how about we get together one day soon and you tell me some of the stuff that’s in your big brain?”

Castiel’s face couldn’t get any more red. Was this, frankly beautiful, man asking him out? It couldn’t be. They’d barely known each other for even a few minutes but Castiel could tell this man wasn’t the kind of guy that was normally into him. 

Castiel’s tie and sweater vest certainly weren’t the typical match for the ripped jeans and henley that this wonderful man was wearing. 

“What d’ya say?” The man asked when Castiel still hadn’t given an answer. He seemed a little cocky to Castiel but, instead of being put off by it, Castiel just thought it was a little goofy and endearing. 

“I think I’d like that.” Castiel smiled. 

“Good.” The man pushed himself off the shelf he’d been leaning against, and pulled his wallet out of his jeans pocket. He produced a card and passed it over to Castiel. 

‘Dean Winchester. 

Singer Salvage & Autos

TEL: 07593123344’

Dean. It was suddenly the best name Castiel had heard (or seen, he supposed). 

“Text me.”

*  *  * 

Since then, Castiel discovered that Dean was much more than the cocky ‘bad boy’ vibe he’d tried to give off. 

For example, Dean cared a lot about his brother, Sam. He talked for most of their first date about Sam being the most hard working kid, and how he’d got into Stanford on a full ride. 

After about an hour, Dean had stopped for a second and cringed. “I’ve been talking about my dork of a little brother for our entire date, haven’t I?”

Castiel had chuckled and nodded but was quick to assure Dean that it was nice to hear about someone Dean cared so deeply for. He only hoped that one day Dean could care that much for him too. 

Now, Castiel was preparing for their third date. He’d planned a picnic to have on the grassy expanse overlooking the river on the edge of town. 

He was hoping that today would be the day that he’d finally work up the nerve to ask Dean to officially be his boyfriend. 

Putting the finishing touches to the peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, Castiel licked the remaining peanut butter off the knife. If he wasn’t saving room for when he ate with Dean later, he’d finish off the jar. 

Peanut butter was a gift from the Gods as far as Castiel was concerned. 

Noticing the time on the clock, Castiel rushed to pack the remaining parts of the picnic into the basket and leave out the door. 

*  *  *

Later, at the river, Castiel arrived first and set everything up in anticipation for Dean’s arrival. 

Looking at the spread of food laid out on the blanket, Castiel couldn’t help but feel proud of what he’d put together. He just hoped Dean would like it. 

The nerves began to set in and spotting Dean across the way, walking towards him, only made it worse. 

Dean looked good today. His dark blue jeans and khaki henley hugged him in all the right places. And it sent Castiel’s heart racing. How was he meant to pluck up the courage to ask Dean to be his boyfriend now? 

“Hey, Cas.” Dean waved, as he approached. 

“Hello, Dean.” Castiel replied, patting the spot on the blanket next to him, inviting Dean to sit down with him. 

“Oh man,” Dean said, taking in all the elements of the picnic in front of him, “did you do all this?”

“Yea,” Castiel couldn’t help but blush, “I thought it would be nice for our third date. I hope that’s okay?” 

Dean nodded with an excited smile on his face. “Yeah, dude, this looks awesome!”

“Thank you, Dean.”

Dean grinned from ear to ear. 

Gosh, Castiel thought, Dean truly was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen. 

He couldn’t wait any longer. 

“Dean?” Castiel asked, making eye contact with the other man. 

“Yeah, Cas?”

“Um, I was wondering, considering we’ve been on a few dates now, and I really enjoy spending time with you, and you’re very kind and caring and-”

“Cas, you’re rambling. What do you want to ask me?” Dean teased, a knowing grin on his face. If Castiel wasn’t so nervous he’d tell Dean off for winding him up. 

“Sorry. I just wanted to ask if you’d be my boyfriend? Officially?” Castiel immediately closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see Dean’s reaction. 

A hand came to rest on Castiel’s cheek. 

“Castiel, look at me.” Dean whispered. 

Castiel fluttered his eyes open to find Dean’s green ones intimately close. 

“I would love to be your boyfriend.”

A huge smile spread across Castiel’s face. He was so happy. He’d never expected it to lead to this when he’d helped a slightly cocky guy look for a book but he would never change a thing. 

“Can I ask you a question now?” Dean smiled. 

“Of course, Dean. Anything.” 

“Can we eat some of your food now?” Dean gave Cas a cheeky grin. 

Castiel chuckled and nodded, moving to take the food out of the packaging he’d wrapped it in. Dean’s eyes lit up when Castiel took a pie out of the basket. Already, Castiel knew that he’d do anything to keep that look of happiness on Dean’s face. 

Dean’s happy smile stayed on his face as he reached over to pick up a sandwich from the pile Castiel had carefully constructed. 

But the smile quickly turned sour when he brought the sandwich to his mouth. Castiel frowned when Dean sniffed at it instead of taking a bite. 

Just as Castiel was about to get really offended, Dean spoke up. 

“Uh, Cas?” He asked. “What’s in these sandwiches?”

“Just peanut butter and jelly. They’re my favourite. I ate some earlier though so it’s okay, there's nothing wrong with them.” Castiel explained. 

“No, no Cas. It’s not that, it’s just,” Dean awkwardly rubbed at the back of his neck, placing the sandwich delicately back on the pile, “I have a nut allergy. That sandwich could literally kill me.” 

The blood drained from Castiel’s face. Dean had only just agreed to be his boyfriend and now Cas was trying to kill him! God, Dean would probably never want to see him again, let alone date him after this. 

“Oh my god, Dean! I’m so sorry! I had no idea. I didn’t even think. Oh god. I could have killed you.” Castiel frantically apologised, breaths coming fast and deep. 

“Woah, dude.” Dean raised his hands in a calming gesture. “It’s okay. It’s an honest mistake. You couldn’t have known.” 

Castiel could hear Dean’s words but his body wasn’t watching up. Deep breaths kept being drawn into his body. 

“Cas,” Dean gathered Castiel’s hands in his, “focus on your breathing and listen to me. It’s okay. I hadn’t told you yet. I’m fine. You’re fine. We’re okay.”

Castiel finally snapped back, his eyes focused on Dean’s. They then moved down to look at his hands enclosed by Dean’s.

Dean noticed Castiel calm and leant down to place a soft kiss on their joined hands. “Are you back with me?”

Castiel nodded. He didn’t trust his voice to speak. 

“It’s not something I usually tell people right away,” Dean explained, softly. “I dunno, I guess I feel embarrassed by it. It’s kinda nerdy. I tend to just avoid things where I don’t know that the food situation will be, y’know?” 

Hearing Dean speak badly of himself made Castiel find his voice. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You can’t help it.” 

Dean shrugged. “I just feel bad. You went to all this effort for me and I can’t eat it.” 

Castiel shook his head. “It’s okay, Dean. We still have the pie. I got an apple one because I remember you mentioning that it’s your favourite?”

Dean blushed. “You remembered that?” Castiel nodded. 

The two men looked softly at each other for a moment. Dean looked into Castiel’s eyes like he was searching for something. After a couple of moments, he must have found what he was looking for because he opened his mouth to speak. 

“Cas, how long ago did you have some of that peanut butter?” Dean whispered, moving his hand to cup Castiel’s cheek. 

Castiel frowned. “A few hours ago. Why?”

“I just wanted to check it was safe for me to do this.”

And with that Dean leaned forward to press a soft kiss to Castiel’s lips. Once Castiel got with the program, he opened his mouth to allow Dean to deepen the kiss. 

*  *  * 

Eventually, when Dean and Castiel moved in together, Castiel had to give up his favourite food. 

But he’d found that the taste of peanut butter wasn’t his favourite anymore. Instead, it was the taste of Dean every time they kissed. 

Now that was the true gift from the Gods. 

-

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it Lexi!

Fun fact: I have a severe peanut allergy so I really enjoyed writing this one lmao. And much like in the fic, everyone else is always more concerned about me dying from it than I am haha

If you liked what you saw, REBLOG! and consider reserving a prompt from my ‘30 Destiel Prompts’ challenge, or just send me your own prompt you’d like me to fill!

-

TAGS: @eccentriccas @starrynightdeancas @credentiast @imbiowaresbitch @starclaire @cockleslovesdestiel @bend-me-shape-me @destielfactory @dea-stiel @wendeano @wingsandimpalas @aggressivedean @flowersforcas @chill-legilimens @pancakesofthelord @saltnhalo @caslikescoffeeandfreckles @assbuttboyfriends @jhoomwrites @breathingdestiel @simplymisha @thekingslover @aelysianmuse

(once again tagging my faves, let me you if you’d like to be removed from future fics - or added if you’re not already there! we don’t have to be mutuals)