#Washer Inspection Machine

[visimaster]

Horizontal Visigauge Manufacturer in pune | India

The brand most closely linked with horizontal vision production in all of India is Visimaster (also known as Horizontal Visigauge Manufacturer). Their specialty is the manufacture of instruments for visual examination. To assist in the development of more precise vision inspection devices, each department has specialized teams.

[evieolo]

Panty Thief

Pairing: Chris Sturniolo x Fem!Reader

Contains: SMUT!!/ Male masturbation / Handjobs / Male!Receiving

“Chris, can you check if my laundry’s done for me?” You call from behind your door, catching his footsteps in the hall. Chris sighs dramatically, his voice loud enough for you to hear, and stops at your door, pushing it open. “Why can’t you do it?” He proclaims, shooting a playful glare your way. He’s dressed in low-cut gray sweats and a plain black t-shirt, carrying a mix of shirts and hoodies, folded messily in his hand.

You stretch your arms out, feigning tiredness. “I don’t want to get up.” You yawn, draping your comforter more over your torso and immersing yourself further in your social media. Chris sighs, realizing since he has to do his laundry he has to get yours out of the washing machine. Begrudgingly, he heads to the laundry room, as if he wasn’t already on his way there.

The smell of fresh laundry fans Chris’ nose as he walks into the dull room, a boring room contradicting the rest of the house, with white walls—no decor, only a window with a drapy shade over it that, on sunny days, beams light into the room, the only exception of furniture being the washer-dryer.

Chris inhales, shamelessly breathing in the fumes of your coconut-scented detergent, a scent he’d grown happily accustomed to after your many years of friendship. In Chris’ mind, you had an excessive amount of clothes. You’re not a messy person if you subtract clothes from the mix; your room is always littered with your latest clothing hauls, mixed but in separate piles from your dirty laundry. When he’d gone down to the laundry room an hour ago your clothes were cycling through the wash; still now you now had one snug load to the side in a circular hamper. The hamper adjoined the running dryer which had a second batch of clothes in it.

He approaches the shaking dryer slowly—there are two minutes left in the cycle—he might as well stay in the room while he waits for yours to finish.

Chris absentmindedly picks up the detergent you use and out of boredom reads the many labels on the bottle, giving up when he reads too many ingredient words with over twenty letters in them; the bottle’s sticky at the top where Chris holds it, he doesn’t realize this until it's slipping out of his fingers. The detergent bottle falls from his hand and spills into the hamper of your clean clothing.

Chris curses silently and snatches the bottle off the haphazard mix of clothes. He sets the bottle atop the drier and inspects the pile, pulling the soiled short on top of the pile off, wincing at the damp stain. He presses a palm to the next shirt down, realizing detergent did seep past the first top. He lets out a dramatic sigh of frustration and pulls the shirt off the top of the pile—discarding it into his basket of dirty laundry, deciding he’ll wash it with his own clothes and return it to you afterward.

He peeks to the pile of your laundry now without your baggy T housing the rest of the apparel. An orange piece catches his attention. It’s his favorite color, plus, he’d never seen you wear this specific shade before. He’s curious.

Chris saunters back to your hamper and pulls the orange bottoms out of the basket. He flushes when he realizes the bottoms are not shorts. They’re panties, peachy orange with a navy frill along the hems.

The man practically freezes in place, the panties were innocently simple—nothing relatively showy but they were his favorite color. There had to be some meaning to that. Right?

Chris runs his wrist along the hem of your bottoms, meshing the fabric of them between his thumbs. The fabric is light and delicate, almost weightless to touch, running his fingers over the hem he feels the jagged texture, so thin it's almost translucent.

He imagines how they’d sit on your hips; flaunt the curve of your ass. The thought of this—of you, shifts the looseness of his pants and he feels a recognizable stiffness arise against the fabric of his boxers.

“Chris?”

You enter the room tauntingly and Chris mutters a ‘fuck’ under his breath. He realized he’d look like a pervert in any situation so he quickly bunches your panties in his fist and pockets them.

Your eyes narrow as you realize he neglected your request and didn’t tell you that your laundry was done, “What have you been doing down here for the past ten minutes?” You ask skeptically.

Chris’ features flush red and he sucks his teeth, his mind blank of any witty remarks. He pauses for a second before speaking, “Wishing your laundry would disappear…Okay, but seriously, why do you have so many clothes?” He whines, alleviating the tension he’d created in his mind.

You laugh, opening the dryer that’d just finished its cycle with a ‘click’

“You’re just mad that I have style.” You rebuttal, a wide smile on your face.

“Mhm”

Chris swallows harshly, standing stiffly as he watches you bend down to spoon your clothes out of the dryer. His eyes focus on the curve of your ass, the way you teeter on your knees to reach the clothes in the very back. It’s not soon before he feels harsher tightening in his abdomen.

He mentally curses himself. Asking himself if he seriously got a boner from watching his best friend do laundry.

Chris makes a light grunting noise—his begrudging goodbye—before he leaves the room. You turn your head at the diminishing sound of footsteps. “Chris, I thought you were doing your laundry?” You press, curious as to why he’s leaving so soon.

Chris continues out of the room, only turning his head slightly to respond to you, “I-I’ll do it later.” He stammers, making his way up the stairs making a beeline to his bedroom.

When he reaches his room he’s flustered, his cheeks are red and you’re running through his mind. There are only two things he can think of: your ass and your panties.

Your panties that are in his pocket.

He pulls his fist out of his pocket and holds your undergarments again. The sight of the frill only turns him on further, making his hard-on tent his pants. Chris curses under his breath for the nth time before retreating to his bed, shooing away his self-accusations of him being a ‘pervert’ and deciding to do something about his boner.

He sits on his bed, scooting back against the headboard and shimmies his sweats down, pushing the band of his boxers down to reveal his hardened-cock.

Feathering a hand down to his base, he groans a sigh from the pressure his hand brings. He pumps his length upward, coaxing pre-cum from his angry tip, smearing the drops in liquid down his base as he pumps himself; picturing you as he does so.

He imagines you—bending down for him instead of a washing machine. How your hands would wrap around him, your small hands; small but oh so gentle. And fuck, those panties, he wished he could see them around your hips, how they would flaunt the curve of your ass perfectly. He’d push the cloth to the side and fuck you with them still on.

He palms your pocketed bottoms, pushing them against his cock and thrusting against the fabric, hips roiling into his hand as he moans your name.

“Fuck Y/N, fuck, yeah just like that.” He whimpers, rutting against his hand so desperately he doesn’t realize how his door creaks open.

“Chris, did you take…” you pause, unsure how to ask if he knows where your missing undergarments are, “Uhm - did you take something from my laundry bin?” You question shyly, too embarrassed to blatantly admit you can’t find your favorite panties. Your eyes are down, and you teeter on your heels, until you grow impatient with Chris’ lack of response and look at him.

Your eyes widen, and you yell out a loud “Fuck!”, meekly covering your eyes with your hands and turning away.

Chris then notices your presence, his jaw drops and his cheeks burn bright red. He tries to shuffle under his comforter, but it's to no avail; he’s sitting on top of it.

You continue to conceal your vision with your hands, only peeking through a small crack at his face until you realize where your panties are. Wet and bunched up in his hand. Your mouth falls slightly ajar in surprise, and you stop hindering your vision.

“Chris, were you jerking off to my underwear?” You ask wide-eyed.

Unsure of what to say, Chris simply nods out a quiet “yes.”

Chris stays silent. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows harshly. “Are you going to stand in my doorway like that for the rest of your life?”

You take this as an invitation to join him in his bed, sauntering to the bed’s foot, and kneeling yourself onto the mattress, crawling over his sprawled-out legs and leaving your hand dangerously close to his hard-on.

“Can I?” You hum, meeting his eyes. He nods eagerly, watching you intently. “If I had known you were this big I would’ve done this a long time ago,” you coo, feathering a hand down to his needy tip and running a thumb over in a circular motion. With this, Chris leans back and lets out an opened-mouth moan.

“Fuck Y/N,” He sighs, lazily running a hand through his hair as you start moving your hand down his shaft. Running your palm up and down and squeezing gently once you reach the tip.

“Wanna suck you off, baby.” You hum, pressing a kiss to his tip. Chris shivers at the contact, groaning at the sloppy peck, “Please.” He whines.

You puff your cheeks out, readying yourself for his size and kitten lick his tip before wrapping your lips around him, sinking your head down slightly to test the waters before speeding up a bit, filling the room with sounds of erotic spit and Chris’ loud groans.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Chris moans, knotting his hands in your hair and pushing your head down further every time you bob down. The sound of your lewd gagging nears Chris’ orgasm.

Looking at you sets him over the edge, the way your back arches towards him, to get easier access to him, how tears prod your waterline every time his dick hits your throat, the hums you let out as he knots your hair tighter and tighter.

His dick twitches in your mouth, signaling to you his upcoming release, and before you can get a breath through your nose, he's rutting his hips into you, pushing your head down to his base, breathing heavily, as his cum sloppily trickles into your mouth.

He holds your head down sternly as he comes down from his high, pushing you down against his base. When he releases his grip on your hair, you pull back, chest heaving as you gasp for air.

“Holy shit.” Chris mumbles, threading his fingers through his hair. You straighten your spine, positioning yourself back in a sitting position on your knees and meet eye level with Chris.

He smirks when you meet his eyes. Your face is red, and your throat is sore from the way his tip bruised your pharynx. Chris watches intently as you wipe his dripping cum off the corners of your mouth with the back of your wrist. “Where’d you learn how to suck dick like that?” He heaves, a playful undertone to his words.

“I dabble,” You smile, shrugging off his question as you give him a crooked smile.

Chris pauses for a second, opening and closing his mouth twice before he actually speaks, “Why’d we do that?” He asks, pinching his eyes shut in embarrassment.

You sense his awkwardness and scoot closer to him, rubbing his shoulder soothingly. “Chris, this doesn’t have to change things between us; best friends fuck all the time.” You say, delicately pressing a kiss to his jaw.

Chris meets your eyes, pulling his boxers back on to leave him less exposed. “You can’t call me your best friend after sucking the life out of my dick.” He laughs.

Meeting his gaze you fold your arms in your lap, “If I shouldn’t call you my best friend, what should I call you?”

“How about boyfriend?” He winks, shifting off the bed and heading for the shower stopping to toss you your dampened panties. “Can you wear these for me tomorrow?”

[supertrxshwrites]

Hey!! I hope you are doing great<3

If it's okay could you make a fic/ hcs of deadpool × kind f!reader + friends to lovers

Thank you in advance ♡♡♡

Everything She Wants

Pairing: Deadpool x kind f!reader + friends to lovers

Tags: Deadpool, fluff, one shot, friends to lovers, anon ask

here ya go anon I hope you like it <3

You had finally made it home after a long day, you decided to check your mail before heading up to your place.

"Nothing." you rolled your eyes as you slammed your mailbox closed. you made your way up and changed into some PJs then gathered your laundry and made your way to the laundry mat around the corner. you always enjoyed washing clothes at night because fewer people were out and you could sit and wait for your clothes since it wasn't crowded and there were seats.

You sighed softly as you took your purple laundry basket to one of the washing machines, throwing a Tide pod in your load. You put an earbud in one ear as you closed the door to the washer and made your way to some of the black chairs in the corner. The bell chimes signaling that the door opening, you glance up and are greeted with the view of red spandex and what looked like katanas on his back.

"oh great a weirdo" You cursed yourself for coming to the laundry room so late. you were not huge on socializing after a certain time of day, especially after being at work all day. You just wanted to relax as you waited on your laundry.

"weirdo? you ain't see nothing yet" he chirps as he struts across the room to you and sits a few seats away.

"so what brings you here?" he asks a smile clearly behind the mask as he bugs you. now that he was closer you got a better look at his suit. he was decked out in guns and knives and what smelled like dried blood. You could feel him staring as he waited for your response.

"Late-night laundry... fewer weirdos around this time," you said as you continued to inspect him.

"Ah fresh laundry my second favorite kind of load which has my second favorite kind of ball...the dryer ball" he laughs a bit as he sits back with his hands under his head.

you couldn't help but snort at his joke in response.

"Look at me talking about balls and loads when a lady is present, excuse me where are my manners," he says standing up and bowing one hand over his stomach while the other behind his back.

"Pool. Deadpool...and what's your name peanut?" he asked as he quickly sat and scooched next to you taking your earbud from your ear and holding it up to his ear.

"hmm...Everything She Wants by WHAM!" he says emphasizing wham as he bops his head a bit.

"Oh, my name is Y/n...I live in the duplex up the street" you said with a smile not sure why you were telling a stranger where you lived, but it felt like he was safe.

His eyes widened from behind the mask.

"No way! me too!" he said squealing a bit

"Oh my god you should come over we could watch movies, talk about boys..have a sleepover," he says nudging you a bit at that last part.

was he flirting with you? 

Deadpool wasted no time talking your ear off, you both talk so much that you forgot about your laundry. This eventually became a routine the both of you and doing laundry late at night. You and Wade became friends after that night and he told you about his job and what happened to him. He was a great storyteller so it didn't bother you when he would go off on tangents or stop a story to make a dirty joke.

***

Since Wade lived next door you gave him a key in case of an emergency or if he just wanted to sleep over and hang out. He wasted no time stashing guns at your place in case of an intruder, you thought it was unnecessary but Wade seemed adamant that they be there.

“Wade, a gun by the toilet is ridiculous,” you said standing at the door of the bathroom as he taped a gun on the side of the toilet bowl

“Y/N the bathroom is where one is most vulnerable you never know when someone is gonna come in here you have to be ready even when you’re taking shit,” he says as he stands up with his duffle full of guns.

he walked over to the couch to stuff a few in between the cushions and taped one under each side table.

“whew I tell ya what.. all good in a day’s work,” he says in a country accent standing back with his hands on his hips

“Thank you, Wade,” you say turning to him with a smile as your hand touches his arm you feel a warmth go through your body as he looks at you. You feel your face flush as he looks at you with his brown eyes. his eyes flicker to lips and then back into your e/c eyes. You reach out to touch his face and that’s when he clears his throat and zips his duffle.

“uuh..No Prob Bob. Hey, I gotta head out I have to go tag and bag a couple of knuckleheads but I’ll be back later. “ he says with a smile before leaving. you felt a bit embarrassed, you knew Wade felt a type of way about the scarring on his body and face but you didn’t care about his looks, he’s always there when you need it. He knows all of your favorite foods and he even took time to take care of you when you were sick not too long ago. You felt your mind race as you stood in the middle of the living room your heart racing. 

“Do I like Wade?” You asked yourself as you looked down at your hands before you heard the door open again.

“Oh, Wade I thought you were heading out “You sounded so flustered you’d curse yourself for that later. Wade stood in the door in his suit.

“Right um I forgot something" he said a smile clear from his voice 

“Wh-“Before you can even ask he’s quick on his feet as he strides over to you lifting his mask above his nose and kissing you.

the kiss is soft and it makes your heart flutter you were almost worried it skipped a beat but that didn’t matter, you were kissing Wade your best friend and he was kissing you back? you pulled away to breathe and when you looked up he had pulled his mask back down.

“Damn, girl if I had known you were so sweet on me I would’ve kissed you a long time ago” He laughs as he stares at you.

“Y/N do you really wanna do this? I mean I get it ladies love a man in uniform, but I mean when I’m not cracking skulls will you still want me as Wade?” he asks he sounds almost worried your answer will be anything but yes.

“Wade of course! I love you for you not because you’re Deadpool” You smile

“oooo you loooove meeee” he teases as he boops your nose

“I love you too Y/N,” he says as he makes his way to the door

“see ya later Wade” you wave 

he gives you a wink and blows you a kiss before leaving and you take a seat on your now lumpy gun-filled couch.

[spitefulsatanfics]

=°= Laundry Day =°=

A Castiel x Reader Novella One-Shot

╰┈➤ “There is more to humanity than survival. You look for purpose. And that’s something my kind has never understood.”

— Castiel, Season 8, Episode 7: “A Little Slice of Kevin”

Written by: Little Devil ♡

PAIRING: Castiel x Reader (She/Her)

TONE: Domestic Fluff, Bittersweet Romance, Angel x Hunter, Established Relationship

RATING: 16+

BASED ON: Supernatural Season 8, Post-Episode 8x10 (“Torn and Frayed”)

SYNOPSIS:

He never planned to stay. But Heaven is cracked and bleeding, Naomi’s control is fraying, and the angel tablet sings too loudly in his mind. So Castiel lingers in the bunker—at first out of necessity. Then for you. What begins with silence and folded laundry becomes something warmer: peach jam at midnight, quiet hands in the dark, the sound of your heartbeat anchoring him more than any divine mission ever did. The Winchesters watch him change, slow and strange. And you? You begin to understand just how hard an angel has to fall before he learns what “home” really means.

°• ° •°

“An Angel in the Laundry Room”

There are sounds in the Men of Letters bunker you’ve learned to love—mundane, grounding things. The gurgle of coffee percolating, the distant hum of lore being combed through in the library, the occasional sarcastic bickering between brothers. And lately… the flutter of unseen wings followed by the quiet click of a laundry room door.

You slow your steps at the hallway entrance, watching through the cracked door. Castiel stands stiffly before the washer, looking at it the way one might look at a cryptic sigil scrawled in blood. His trench coat—still speckled from last week’s rain—is slung over a nearby hook. He wears one of Dean’s old Henleys, slightly too tight across his shoulders, and Sam’s clearance-bin joggers that pool slightly at the ankles. He’s barefoot.

In his hands, a towel. He folds it into thirds with a kind of military precision, his movements deliberate, as if performing some sacred rite.

“You fold towels like you're preparing for a celestial inspection,” you say, leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed and heart already softening.

Castiel looks up, startled—but only briefly. The tension bleeds out of him when he sees you. His expression shifts minutely into something you’ve come to recognize as affection. Not quite a smile, not quite neutral. Just… open.

“You fold them differently,” he says simply.

You grin. “You mean wrong?”

“No. Just… inefficiently,” he replies without a hint of humor. His tone is observational, not critical. “But not wrong.”

You step inside, brushing your hip against his. “Well, inefficiency leaves room for love. For… imperfection.”

He studies you, head tilted, like he’s trying to translate that statement in real time. Then, very carefully, he sets the towel down and reaches for your hand.

“Then… teach me. The way you do it.”

So you do. You guide his hands through your fold method—loose, casual, the kind that ends up slightly off-center but somehow cozier for it. Your fingers graze his as you work, heat blooming in small places.

Sam walks in mid-lesson, pauses, sees you two standing forehead to forehead between dryer sheets and haloed in the warm buzz of the machine. He grabs the detergent with a sigh so dramatic it could be heard by prophets.

“Jesus. I’m starting to miss the Leviathans.”

°• ° •°

“Staycations and Peach Jam”

Three days into relative peace—no urgent hunts, no exploding phones, no ethereal compulsions—you're sprawled on the bunker’s couch when you call it.

“Official bunker staycation,” you declare, poking Castiel in the side with your toe. “No cases, no archangels, no existential crises. Just you, me, and enough Judge Judy to rot our brains.”

He furrows his brow. “She is… a legal authority?”

“In the loudest, most entertaining way possible.” You hand him a spoon and a half-eaten jar of peach jam.

Castiel eyes the jar with something close to reverence. Ever since Dean bought it by mistake, he’s taken to it like a moth to flame. You swear you caught him hiding a backup jar in the warded weapons locker.

He settles beside you on the couch, stiff at first. His hand lingers near your thigh, hesitant. When you scoot closer, he exhales softly and lets his palm rest over your leg—like he’s reminding himself you’re real, solid, here.

“Do you miss it?” you ask quietly, eyes still on the TV. “The wings. The sky. The... certainty.”

He doesn’t answer right away. You don’t push.

“I miss… the order,” he says finally. “The clarity of knowing my purpose. Of being… above.”

You nod, not surprised.

“But I don’t miss the distance,” he adds, voice low. “The detachment. I see now… there is purpose in uncertainty. In choosing. In staying.”

You turn your head, meeting his gaze. His eyes glow—not celestial, but warm. Focused. Human.

“I never had a reason to stay before you,” he murmurs. “Now I want fuzzy socks. And fruit preserves. And quiet mornings where I can watch you breathe.”

Your lips part to respond, but nothing comes. So instead, you lean in and kiss him—slow, reverent, the way he folds towels.

---

°• °•°

“Heaven Never Taught Him This”

You wake to humming. Not celestial choir humming—just low, tuneless, concentrated human hums.

Slipping out of bed, you pad down the hallway barefoot. The bunker hums with its usual midnight quiet, broken only by the faint clatter of kitchen activity.

You find him standing at the stove, bathed in the soft glow of overhead lights, wearing only joggers and one of your sweaters—stretched at the shoulders, sleeves too short.

He doesn’t notice you at first. He’s stirring something in a small saucepan, brow furrowed with intense, almost sacred focus.

“What… are you doing?” you ask, half-asleep.

“I found a recipe online,” he says, straightening. “It suggests warming peach jam into a glaze… for toast.”

You blink. “You’re making me celestial jam toast at two in the morning?”

“Yes,” he says, like it’s the most logical answer in the world.

You cross the kitchen slowly and wrap your arms around his waist. He freezes, then relaxes into your touch, exhaling like the air was held in for centuries.

“You’re learning fast,” you murmur.

“At… jam?”

“At being human.”

He turns in your arms, hands finding your waist.

“I am not human,” he says, soft but firm.

You nod. “But you’re trying. You’re choosing. That counts.”

He cups your face, thumb brushing your cheek like he’s memorizing it. “Then I want to keep choosing. Every day. If you'll let me.”

You kiss him again, longer this time, letting the moment bloom like morning light.

Outside, Heaven might still be broken. The world might still need saving. But here, in this borrowed kitchen, your angel stirs jam. Folds towels. Steals your socks.

And finally, finally, learns how to stay.

=✓= Laundry Day =✓=

Written by: Little Devil ♡

For the angel who folded himself into your world, wrinkle by wrinkle.

[diazsdimples]

Some Sentences Sunday!

Tagged by my beloved @daffi-990 and @jesuisici33

Hi, I am a bad person. I started a new WIP. This, to be fair, is gonna be a short, hopefully funny, smut oneshot. Please enjoy this small (long) snippet!

Eddie’s hanging out the washing when he notices it. Just for the record, it’s not like he regularly inspects Buck’s underwear, thank you very much, but he’d felt something tacky on the inside of the flimsy fabric when he’d been about to peg it up, and had investigate like any sane person would do. Eddie’s initial thought is “fucking washing machine, can’t even wash out the laundry powder”, mostly because there’s a white residue under where his thumb was placed moments earlier and there’s been occasions when their black shirts have had clumps of laundry powder still on them despite the tossing about they’ve received in the washer. It’s upon further inspection that something clicks into place. Eddie’s not an idiot. He was a teenaged boy once and by extension is very familiar with what dried come looks like (although his was usually in socks, not underwear). It’s more just what it’s doing in Buck’s underwear that’s got him so confused. Because Buck can’t – he’s not – surely he’s not – Eddie stands in front of the clothesline with Buck’s come-stained underwear clutched to his chest, and decides that it’s lovely weather for an existential crisis. They’re not going through a dry spell, are they? Eddie definitely wouldn’t call it that, they’re still having sex at least three times a week, schedules allowing, but it has been a little busier lately, what with Christopher starting high school and his workload increasing (and by extension Eddie’s workload increasing because he’s apparently been appointed Head Homework Helper even though Buck repeatedly points out that he’s a wealth of untapped knowledge). So not a dry spell, but could be considered water restrictions? It strikes Eddie how tragic his situation truly is. His beloved partner of 6 months resorting to coming in his pants like a randy teenager because Eddie’s 14-year-old son suddenly has to learn algebra. He briefly imagines Buck sneaking into the bathroom and rubbing one out, too worked up to even take his pants off first, before slinking back into the kitchen to help Eddie with dinner and Eddie’s heart fucking clenches. He's been letting his boy down, and now Buck’s resorted to alternative methods of relief. This simply cannot go on. Only problem is, Eddie’s got no idea what to do to fix it. Eddie takes a deep breath and faces the stark truth. He’s going to have to talk to someone about it. Steeling himself, he pulls out his phone and dials the first person he thinks of. “Hen? I’ve got a problem. And you cannot laugh at me.”

No pressure tagging @theotherbuckley @thewolvesof1998 @watchyourbuck @wildlife4life @hippolotamus @puppyboybuckley @fortheloveofbuddie @pirrusstuff @rainbow-nerdss @spotsandsocks @steadfastsaturnsrings @cal-daisies-and-briars @tizniz @disasterbuckdiaz @housewifebuck @wikiangela @evanbegins @buckbuckgoose @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @exhuastedpigeon @smilingbuckley @nmcggg @spagheddiediaz @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove and anyone else who wants to share something!

[pigswithwings]

being objectum has improved my mental health. now when my cheap improperly installed washing machine decides not to drain properly i dont get Mad imm like. ok fine i will lovingly lift out each piece of soaked cloth so i can inspect you for clogging material. and 99% of the time shes not even clogged by anything she just craves my touch (ok possibly also i gave her more than she could handle) (but i really dont think so). babygirl i wouldve paid for the professional installation if i knew the unprofessional installation would be this bad. the dryer is EXPENSIVE and in a different room bc it was part of a fancy set but the fancy washer died years ago. her corpse is still there unused. frequently bought together do not separate :( she played a tune when the clothes were done. the dryer still sings the same song. new washer has no voice. ok maybe im not IMPROVED

no thats an improved quality of life i would say. the world is beautiful and we are finding this out one washer at a time. also rip your old fancy washer she sounds lovely

[protoslacker]

Laundromat

"What we do about ecology depends on our ideas of the man-nature relationship. More science and more technology are not going to get us out of the present ecologic crisis until we find a new religion, or rethink our old one." ~Lynn White, Jr.

After work on Saturday I went to the Laundromat. I had to wait a few minutes for a washing machine to become available. Many patrons of the Laundromat spend the absolute minimum amount of time in the place--I am not sure where they go--others wait. I like to wait. It's nice to be with other people, even when everyone is trying so hard ot mind their own business. And I like to read from a book, something I don't seem to make enough time for.

The book I had in the car is a reading anthology for a college-level Anthropology 101 course from the 1970s. It's an eclectic mix of poetry, stories and essays. I've had the book a long time and I'm pretty sure that I paid ten cents for it a used book sale. What a bargain!

I read Lynn White, Jr.'s much-cited 1967 essay in Science, The Historical Root of Our Ecological Crisis.

I sat among the waiters. There was a Latina woman with a a faraway look, a Black fellow about my age, and another Latina woman with a child, I guess about two years old. The woman also sat with a faraway look.The little girl was watching videos on a phone and her demeanor was quite calm . Every time the child showed something to her mother she smiled or laughed sweetly. The old fellow was also watching something on his phone, and hummed quietly at times.

The single woman got up and gathered up her two bags of carefully folded clothes, perhaps her ride had arrived. Mother and child as well as the man also got up to inspect their wash. Then another woman arrived with a toddler who screeched when his mom put him down to load a washer. The old guy tried to engage the boy by asking his name. His mother answered saying, "Naheim" and the man repeated the name. The woman corrected his pronunciation, "Nah hEEm." He asked where in Africa they were from and she offered from Ghana. He said that he took a DNA test and learned some of his ancestors hailed for West Africa.

Once the washer was loaded and the coins dropped, she picked up Naheim, who finally stopped squealing. With all the activity the little girl wandered in my directions, I could hear the song playing on the phone. When she got to the chair near me I sang London Bridges along with the video. She smiled and when back to where mom was.

Later I helped the guy fold a gigantic duvet, the only thing he'd washed and dried. After folding and filling her laundry baskets, the woman put her daughter into the car seat and loaded her baskets into the car. Then she popped her head back in the door and very cheerfully said, "Goodbye." It is a very good feeling to have washed and folded a batch of laundry And it made me feel good to share some minutes with some ordinary folks like me at the laundromat.

It also felt satisfying to finish a thought provoking essay.

[gaytruckerthoughts]

things that some trucking companies list as 'perks' to potential new drivers that are really just a given, or at least should be:

-a driver's lounge. what?? you mean at the company yard there is a place to.. sit down? whaaaaaat

-laundry. you mean your company yard provides 1-2 washer and dryer machines to the drivers that basically live in their trucks that belong to your company?? whhaaaat

addendum: im not joking, these mega-carriers that will have upwards of 40 tractors parked in a company yard overnight at once will usually not have more than 2 sets of laundry machines. it's ridiculous. in case you're wondering, the other place to do laundry on the road is at commercial truck stops, where they charge high prices and the machines don't work and it's a great time)

-weekly or bi-weekly pay. yeah that's how jobs usually work my guy. we're not going on the honor system here

-24/7 dispatch. whaat?? you mean if someone is making a delivery at 2am and they run into a problem or need an extra fuel stop, there will be someone available to call?? ridiculous. that sort of thing would never happen literally all the time. nobody has ever gotten into an accident and had to talk to the safety dept after business hours. unheard of

-electronic logs. any company that's not basically just one owner/operator who is using paper logs anymore is highly suspect, and is probably trying to coerce employees into driving unsafe/illegal hours

-fuel card. yeah obviously. if you are a company driver, or an owner/operator and paying your own fuel costs, it is extremely common for the company to provide a fuel card for at least one truck stop chain. they are going to do it to get discounts for their company drivers anyway, they should also let the owner/ops benefit

-flexible home time. you mean i can go home specifically in time for my niece's bat mitzvah or my grandmother's funeral?? how kind of you

-higher pay for specialized driving such as triples or heavy haul. obviously more difficult. requires more training and endorsements. and worse routing if there are roads you can't access. for example, an oversized load might not be able to fit under certain bridges, and some national parks don't allow hazmat tankers in case of spillage

-sufficient weekly or monthly miles rolling. people aren't signing up to drive in order to.. Not

ACTUAL perks to look for:

-rider/passenger policy (your partner or kid can be in the truck with you)

-pet policy (you can have a little friendo living in the truck)

-general pet policy, instead of like 'one pet allowed, and it has to be a dog under 40lbs and there's breed restrictions' bullshit (we have met some massive trucker puppies. depending on the individual dog, a large size dog can do fine in a truck)

-no pet deposit. like at an apartment where you have to pay a fee for the pet to stay there

-no slip seating, meaning you have the same truck for like a year at a time. generally you can also ask to have the tractor detailed/cleaned when you swap to another tractor that's not brand new. slip seating doesn't allow you to settle, in or decorate, and you often have to put up with smoke smell or a huge mess or whatever

-extra pay for things like extra stops on the same truckload, tarping [for flatbeds], passed dot inspections, detention hours, etc

-exclusively no touch freight or exclusively drop and hook freight. this is specifically for over-the-road, dedicated, or regional drivers though

-for lighter-than-truckload drivers, having a person to unload the truck, instead of having to drive and also ruin your spine and knees all in the same eventful day

-extra pay for driving in some urban areas, driving internationally, and having your hazmat endorsement

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

Work is underway on NASA's next-generation asteroid hunter

The mirrors for NASA's Near-Earth Object Surveyor space telescope are being installed and aligned, and work on other spacecraft components is accelerating.

NASA's new asteroid-hunting spacecraft is taking shape at NASA's Jet Propulsion Laboratory in Southern California. Called NEO Surveyor (Near-Earth Object Surveyor), this cutting-edge infrared space telescope will seek out the hardest-to-find asteroids and comets that might pose a hazard to our planet. In fact, it is the agency's first space telescope designed specifically for planetary defense.

Targeting launch in late 2027, the spacecraft will travel a million miles to a region of gravitational stability—called the L1 Lagrange point—between Earth and the sun. From there, its large sunshade will block the glare and heat of sunlight, allowing the mission to discover and track near-Earth objects as they approach Earth from the direction of the sun, which is difficult for other observatories to do. The space telescope also may reveal asteroids called Earth Trojans, which lead and trail our planet's orbit and are difficult to see from the ground or from Earth orbit.

NEO Surveyor relies on cutting-edge detectors that observe two bands of infrared light, which is invisible to the human eye. Near-Earth objects, no matter how dark, glow brightly in infrared as the sun heats them. Because of this, the telescope will be able to find dark asteroids and comets, which don't reflect much visible light. It also will measure those objects, a challenging task for visible-light telescopes that have a hard time distinguishing between small, highly reflective objects and large, dark ones.

"NEO Surveyor is optimized to help us to do one specific thing: enable humanity to find the most hazardous asteroids and comets far enough in advance so we can do something about them," said Amy Mainzer, survey director for NEO Surveyor and a professor at the University of California, Los Angeles. "We aim to build a spacecraft that can find, track, and characterize the objects with the greatest chance of hitting Earth. In the process, we will learn a lot about their origins and evolution."

Coming into focus

The spacecraft's only instrument is its telescope. About the size of a washer-and-dryer set, the telescope's blocky aluminum body, called the optical bench, was built in a JPL clean room. Known as a three-mirror anastigmat telescope, it will rely on curved mirrors to focus light onto its infrared detectors in such a way that minimizes optical aberrations.

"We have been carefully managing the fabrication of the spacecraft's telescope mirrors, all of which were received in the JPL clean room by July," said Brian Monacelli, principal optical engineer at JPL. "Its mirrors were shaped and polished from solid aluminum using a diamond-turning machine. Each exceeds the mission's performance requirements."

Monacelli inspected the mirror surfaces for debris and damage, then JPL's team of optomechanical technicians and engineers attached the mirrors to the telescope's optical bench in August. Next, they will measure the telescope's performance and align its mirrors.

Complementing the mirror assembly are the telescope's mercury-cadmium-telluride detectors, which are similar to the detectors used by NASA's recently retired NEOWISE (short for Near-Earth Object Wide-field Infrared Survey Explorer) mission.

An advantage of these detectors is that they don't necessarily require cryogenic coolers or cryogens to lower their operational temperatures in order to detect infrared wavelengths. Cryocoolers and cryogens can limit the lifespan of a spacecraft.

NEO Surveyor will instead keep its cool by using its large sunshade to block sunlight from heating the telescope and by occupying an orbit beyond that of the moon, minimizing heating from Earth.

The telescope will eventually be installed inside the spacecraft's instrument enclosure, which is being assembled in JPL's historic High Bay 1 clean room where NASA missions such as Voyager, Cassini, and Perseverance were constructed. Fabricated from dark composite material that allows heat to escape, the enclosure will help keep the telescope cool and prevent its own heat from obscuring observations.

Once it is completed in coming weeks, the enclosure will be tested to make sure it can withstand the rigors of space exploration. Then it will be mounted on the back of the sunshade and atop the electronic systems that will power and control the spacecraft.

"The entire team has been working hard for a long time to get to this point, and we are excited to see the hardware coming together with contributions from our institutional and industrial collaborators from across the country," said Tom Hoffman, NEO Surveyor's project manager at JPL.

"From the panels and cables for the instrument enclosure to the detectors and mirrors for the telescope—as well as components to build the spacecraft—hardware is being fabricated, delivered, and assembled to build this incredible observatory."

IMAGE: This artist’s concept depicts NASA’s NEO Surveyor in deep space. The black-paneled angular structure in the belly of the spacecraft is the instrument enclosure that is being built at JPL. The mission’s infrared telescope will be installed inside the enclosure. Credit: NASA/JPL-Caltech

[an-aura-about-you]

so I was cleaning the house, but now Dad's come by and he's inspecting my washing machine to see if it's an issue he can fix. and I suppose I could keep cleaning, but because of the position of the washer and dryer, half the house is cut off to me unless I go around through my other door.

maybe I will clean on the side I'm currently at.

ok literally while I was writing this post, Dad asked me how much I've got for a new washer. so that's fun. 3:<

[n2qfd]

Today's adventure in homeownership... Plumbing...

The old Moen faucet had been leaking and upon inspection it was a cartridge type with a lot of broken plastics and the o-rings had flat spots too... It was junk. It's possible it was junk to start.... The previous owner was into the DIY stuff but by all accounts the neighbors have the most common description remains "cheap and dumb."

Well, ol'Cheap&dumb stacked about 3/8" of big steel flat washers up and sandwiched them with the brass nut to make the old faucet work.

What happens when we mix steel and brass children? Especially in a nice damp environment with a solid earth ground.....

I had to chisel through the brass to break it off as there was no room for a saw.... That's what...

To add a little insult to injury, Delta is sellig single hole faucets that bolt down like toilets now rather than the large flange but we've all grown accustomed to over the last oh .... 65 years.... So I had to machine a few holes in the countertop too. On top of that, they aren't even centered in the gasket for the base, so my template (no Delta didn't provide that) was only helpful to a point.

Today's lessons. Don't be cheap and dumb. When you realize you're in over your head call someone. And don't expect anything to be like it was the last time you did it.

[visimaster]

Horizontal Visigauge Manufacturer in pune | India

The brand most closely linked with horizontal vision production in all of India is Visimaster (also known as Horizontal Visigauge Manufacturer). Their specialty is the manufacture of instruments for visual examination. To assist in the development of more precise vision inspection devices, each department has specialized teams.

[rjmartin11]

Finding Love in the Deadliest Ways

Part Three: The Second Date

Pairing: Elvis & black!female!reader

Summary: Jordee finds the love of a stanger named Elvis she met at the local park. After a week of dating, Jordee learns that Elvis is more than meets the eye. She discovers hidden secrets and finds out more than she bargained for. Will love survive?

Word Count: 6K

Warnings: Slowburn, getting to know one another, touching, romance

Author's Notes: Welcome to part three.

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・🧛🏼‍♂️・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Jordee's phone alarm goes off, and it's time for work. She turns it off and stretches. She slept so well and can't remember the last time she slept this well. Then Jordee remembers that Elvis invited her to his place instead of hers last night.

Jordee has some things to do before her shift at the hospital. Take a shower, wash her clothes.

"Elvis? Where are you?" Jordee asks, searching the house.

She hears a quiet noise from the laundry room. Remembering Elvis say that he had a washer and dryer near the kitchen, she goes there to inspect the laundry room.

When Jordee enters the laundry room and turns on the light, she sees Elvis lying on the floor. He has his phone propped against his legs and seems to be half asleep, if not less than that. He's also half naked, wearing just a shirt and boxers at the moment. His eyes immediately glance at her while she appears in the doorway.

"Jordee. Oh. Hi. How are you?" Elvis asks, putting the phone down.

"Morning. You didn't sleep there, did you?" Jordee asks.

"Well... yes, I did. I mean, I had the comfiest spot, and I didn't want to change."

He smiles and scratches his head a bit as if to indicate that his logic here makes sense. "I hope that's okay."

"If it's okay with you." Jordee says. "I feel terrible. Like I kicked you out of your bed."

"You didn't. I'm fine. Plus, I just wanted to see you again when you woke up."

Elvis smiles from his seat on the floor, leaning back against the washing machine. His smile is charming and sweet.

"I just wanted to give you a chance to have a moment to yourself if you wanted it. But I've been wanting to see you all morning."

He pauses for a moment. "You look stunning, by the way."

"Stunning?" Jordee questions Elvis. "Messy hair. Morning breath. A bit smelly."

"Messy hair, morning breath, and smell be damned. You could wake up a hundred different ways, and I'd still think the same. You're gorgeous, Jordee. Don't think the morning will change that." Elvis chuckles. "I'm not lying. Just being honest."

"You flatter me. Thank you. Do you have a towel and wash cloth available?" Jordee takes off her work shirt and pants.

Being only in her bra and panties. She looks at Elvis, and he's stunned.

Elvis is so stunned, not expecting her to start changing right in front of him. He's also not expecting to see how beautiful she is either, especially without all her clothes on. Her body is just flawless, and she looks stunning, and Elvis doesn't mind.

"Um, well, I have a couple towels in there." Elvis stutters out.

He motions to the cabinet and the basket in the laundry room. Jordee can see at least one towel there, if not more.

"Shall I get you what you need?" Elvis asks.

"Please."

"Of course." Elvis gets up and grabs a towel from the cabinet, holding it out to Jordee.

"Is that enough, or would you like more?"

Elvis seems perfectly comfortable with her being half naked right now and even seems a touch mesmerized by her body. He's not exactly gawking at her. He just enjoys how beautiful she looks right now.

"One is enough. May I use your shower and can you put my clothes in the washer please?" Jordee asks.

"Of course, but first... do you want me to help you wash up too?"

He's a touch forward here, but he doesn't mind. Jordee is too attractive to not just want to get closer to her right now.

Elvis leans against the washer and stares at her for a moment, like he doesn't quite know what to say because she's just that perfect. Jordee raises her eye brow to him

"No, thanks. I got this. I have an hour before I really need to get to work."

Jordee takes her towel and wash cloth back upstairs to the bathroom and takes a quick shower. Washing her curly, dark hair. She uses Elvis' soap. It smells good. Jordee can't believe she spent the night with Elvis. He is such a gentleman and sweet. She's so happy her wish came true.

She's so happy she starts to sing in the shower.

Elvis can hear a bit of singing while Jordee is in the shower. He looks at Jordee's clothes and sees that she left her purse in them. He opens the purse and looks through it a little while he's waiting.

Once she gets out of the shower, he meets her in the doorway with her clothes already in the washer and another towel for her to dry off with, like the gentleman he is.

"I did what I could for now. And I took care of the towel situation for you." He smiles and holds her towel out to her.

Jordee takes the extra towel and shyly smiles at him. "Okay. Thank you."

"You're welcome. But I... I have to admit that I just wanted to see you with very few clothes."

Elvis pauses for a moment. "It was a selfish move. But I was also hoping... that you didn't mind it."

He looks at her with that adorable smile and charm that he always seems to have. "Do you mind?" He asks again.

"A little, but it's okay." Jordee says.

"Well, it was selfish of me to say that. But I can't say that I won't enjoy the view."

He motions behind him where there's a basket of dry laundry where Jordee's clothing lies. He pauses before speaking again.

"I thought you'd like to know, though. I do really enjoy the view while you're like this."

Elvis seems like he's trying to make a move on Jordee, at least a little bit.

"And if you can't tell, I really like you."

Jordee takes her work clothes out of the basket and turns to look at Elvis. "I can tell. I really like you too."

"Is there any chance... I could have an extra hour of your time? I've really enjoyed last night."

Elvis looks at Jordee with her perfect body and sweet face in the doorway. He doesn't want the night to end yet and wants to see where things can go. He's looking to get more than just a kiss from last night.

"Elvis, I really have to get to work. I'm off tomorrow, and I'll be at your disposal for a full 24 hours. Just help me out. Let me get dressed now and drive me to work. Please?"

Jordee looks Elvis in the eyes, hoping he understands.

"Of course, Jordee. I'll take you to work and I'll even drive you. You know... I'm really glad I met you."

He motions for her to start getting into her clothes.

"You take a minute. And when you're ready, I'll drive you. And after I drive you, I want to take you to dinner." Elvis' smile is charming as ever, but he looks genuine in what he's saying.

"Take me to dinner tonight? After work?" Jordee questions. Elvis truly is trying to get the second date.

"Absolutely. Just name a place, and I'll have you there as soon as I can. You know... I just want to spend more time with you."

Elvis waits for Jordee to put her clothes on while he looks at her. The more she puts on, the more he wants to take them off again. He's so attracted to her body, and especially to the fact that Jordee wants to spend more time with him.

As Elvis talks outside the room, Jordee pits on her clean set of work scrubs. Jordee dreads the thought of work. She's silently contemplating if she should call out, but here she is.

"Dressed and ready for work." She says, stepping out into the hallway with Elvis.

"Alright. Now to the important question. Would you like me to drive you to work? Or would you like to drive yourself? Whatever you prefer is okay."

Elvis seems to be looking for anything to spend more time with Jordee right now.

"And if I drive you, I really want to meet you from work after I get off as well. Is that okay? I'll take you to a nice restaurant. My treat."

"You may drive me to work, so you know where to pick up tonight for dinner."

Elvis smiles. "Thanks, Jordee. I'm really glad to hear that."

He holds her hand now, giving it a light kiss before he leads her towards the door.

"Are you ready for me to drive you then? Because I can do that whenever you want."

"Yes." Jordee says, caressing his hand. "I have to punch in the clock in 20 minutes."

"No problem. Let's get going then."

Elvis walks Jordee out to his car, putting her inside and going to the other side to get inside the driver's seat while he talks to her.

"Do you like Italian? I know a good place that serves great pizza and spaghetti. Or I can get you something else, if you'd prefer."

"I love Italian. How do you feel about garlic?"

"It's one of my favorite things in the world. Is that okay with you?" The smile on his face indicates that he's absolutely thrilled that she likes garlic, and he seems to enjoy it.

"Okay, Italian place it is then. And I know just the place for tonight. What hospital am I taking you to?"

"Memphis Memorial on South Maple." Jordee says.

"I know it well." Elvis takes ten minutes to drive Jordee to the hospital entrance. She gives him a kiss on the cheek and gets out of the car.

"I get off at 7 pm. Please meet me here."

"You got it, Jordee. I'm be here at 9 pm." Elvis says.

"Elvis! I said..."

"7 pm. I'm kidding. I'm see you then." Elvis drives off, and Jordee rushes in the time clock. She'd rather be in that Mustang with Elvis, but she realizes that the sooner she works. The faster 7 pm will come.

Nine hours later...

Jordee is a unit secretary, yet they work her like a slave. They work her to the point that she starts believing she's a nurse, but when she sees her check, she's reminded she's less than the work she gives. She knew this before clocking in. The only thing that kept Jordee sane for her shift was thinking about Elvis and all the fun they'll have tonight.

Jordee gave her report to her replacement and ran to the clock at 6:55 pm. to get to the entrance by 7 pm. Elvis does not leave waiting. He was right there waiting for her by the front door. Her heart skips a beat, and a smile spreads across her face. Elvis has a sly smirk across his face as Jordee walks to his car.

"Hey, Jor." Elvis says.

"Hey. El." She says, trying to be as cleaver as Elvis.

"Where to?" Elvis asks, driving off to the next destination.

"My place, Elvis. It's just three blocks away on Bishop Hills."

Elvis heads three blocks down as Jordee directed.

"This is just by the park we met. You're a walk away from home and the park?" Elvis asks.

"Yeah. I believe I'm blessed to have found such a great place to live not far from the hospital."

Elvis pulls in front of Jordee's apartment and parks.

"Elvis, give me ten minutes, and I'll be right back." Jordee says.

"So, I can't come up and see your place?" Elvis asks.

"Not now. But later. Just give me ten minutes, please?"

Elvis nods his head and lets Jordee get out with no hassle or argument.

Jordee runs upstairs, takes a quick shower, and gets the woes of the hospital off her. She jumps out the shower, dries off, and looks for a dress in her closet. Jordee settles on her short black lace dress with sleeves.

She doesn't keep Elvis waiting long. Jordee walks to the car, and Elvis is leaning against his car door, waiting with a smile on his face. She stops short in front of him so Elvis can get a full look at her in causal date wear.

"Jordee. My God, you're beautiful." Elvis says, opening the car door for her.

"Why, thanks, kind sir." Jordee says, getting in.

Elvis walks over to his side of the car and gets in. Elvis starts up the car and starts driving in the direction of the restaurant.

"Oh... I forgot to ask. Do you have a preference for red or white sauce for the pasta?"

"It depends. I like both."

Elvis drives in the direction of a popular Italian restaurant with Italian music playing from the stereo in the car. Elvis seems to be enjoying driving with her and getting to take care of Jordee right now.

"Do you have any favorite dishes at the Italian place?"

"I love Chicken Alfredo and Chicken Parmesan."

"Those are both wonderful dishes. We'll get one of each then."

Elvis then pulls into the parking lot of the restaurant and parks the car. He turns off the music and smiles.

"Ready to go in?" Elvis asks.

"I guess." Jordee says, not feeling quite confident.

"Jordee... Do you like me? Do you have fun with me?"

Elvis isn't looking for any confirmation. It just seems like he wants to know a bit more about how she feels towards him. He pauses for a moment and smiles at her with those perfect white teeth.

"I stayed the night with you, didn't I?" Jordee says, looking him.

"You did, yeah... And I enjoyed it too."

Elvis smiles and looks into her eyes. "But you know, Jordee. I'm wondering if it's a bit more than just having fun."

He rubs the back of his head while he feels nervous to say more. "You know... I really like you. Like... a lot."

"I like you a lot too, Elvis. I can see this going somewhere."

"You really think so?" Elvis smiles at her and seems hopeful now, like he thinks it's really happening. The fact that she feels the same makes him giddy, and he wants to keep going on their date tonight.

He opens the passenger side door for her.

"Then... let's go in and have dinner."

Jordee takes Elvis' hand and exits the car. Elvis continues to hold her hand as they walk into the Bistro.

Elvis takes her inside. The restaurant seems popular right now, and Elvis takes Jordee to sit at the bar to eat right away because that part seems less busy. The waiters and waitresses seem to like Elvis here, maybe because they've seen him in here often enough.

One of them comes up to him and greets him by name, and they have a brief conversation.

"Hello, Elvis. Would you like the usual? One of our special pizzas and a glass of wine?"

Elvis nods and orders himself and Jordee two plates of chicken parmesan and chicken alfredo with red wine.

"Thank you, Bernardo." Elvis says, as the waiter walks away.

"You're popular." Jordee acknowledged, smiling at him.

"I'm a pretty frequent customer here."

He chuckles a bit and looks at Jordee, smiling.

"I like the food and the service."

The bartender leaves, and Elvis looks back at Jordee.

"So... you said we could see this go somewhere? Do you want this to go somewhere?"

Jordee nods. "I do."

Elvis smiles. "In that case, I have something I'd like to give you at the end of the night if that's okay with you."

"What is it?" Jordee lightly takes Elvis's hand.

"This." Elvis puts his other hand on top of Jordee's right hand. He stares her in the eyes. She sees how his eyes are like deep pools that she could drown in.

"Can I... be your boyfriend, Jordee?"

This is the first time Elvis has ever asked someone this before, so he's not really sure how to word it.

Without hesitation, Jordee says, "Yes."

Elvis smiles and looks at her with a look of awe and joy. "Really?"

Elvis isn't used to getting a "yes" so easily, but he loves every second of it. After a few seconds, where he's just looking at her, he squeezes her left hand. He still has her right hand in his other hand, too.

"I love it..."

Jordee kisses Elvis to seal their relationship with a kiss. He kisses her back, not wanting to break the seal of their new relationship.

As they kiss, he wraps his arms around her and pulls her closer to him while leaning in. Jordee can feel the warmth of Elvis' body while they kiss, and it makes her feel all tingly inside. She loves it.

As they break apart, she still sees how much Elvis appreciates her, and now, more than ever, she knows she made a good choice.

"Your place or mine?" Jordee whispers.

Elvis smiles at this question.

"I think yours so we can get the most of this."

He chuckles a little and looks at Jordee. She's looking so cute right now, and he's more than happy about their new status as boyfriend and girlfriend.

"You asked more of the questions about me. I think it's my turn to ask you some questions." Jordee said.

"Whatever you want to ask. I'm all for it."

He sips his wine slowly, getting ready to answer any and all questions she has for him.

"When's your birthday?" She asked, eager to know the answer.

"My birthday... It's actually coming up real soon."

He smiles and seems happy about this question.

"October 3rd, and yes, it's the day before Halloween. You wouldn't believe how many times people have asked me about that. Why do you ask?"

"I'm asking because I'm getting to know you." Jordee says, thinking about Elvis' birthday and what it means in the zodiac.

"October 3rd? You're a... Libra. I'm a Gemini. This is a match made in heaven."

"You believe in horoscopes, too? You're pretty good. I feel the connection, and that's good enough for me."

He sips his wine again, looking happy about this development. He also puts his free hand on her lower leg while they're talking. He's holding her right hand still, and now he's slowly moving his hand up her leg. It looks like it's getting a little more physical between them now.

Jordee can barely breathe with his hand on her thigh. "Ahh... Elvis?"

"Yes, darling?"

Elvis looks down at Jordee, still holding her right hand in his left hand. His right hand is slowly making its way up her thigh toward her inner thigh. It's touching the very top of her shorts here, with little pressure.

"I'm just enjoying our time together."

"You know, good things come to boys who wait." Jordee says, lightly grabbing his hand.

Elvis keeps his right hand on her thigh while he pulls her in closer.

"But I've been a good boy tonight, haven't I?"

"This action is bad." Jordee shakes a little. Her heart is pounding in fear and uncertainty. Did she make the right decision by coming on the date with him?

"No, it's not."

He smiles at this and starts to run his fingers up and down the hem of her dress, which causes her skin to tingle while he does it.

"I've been such a good boy that I deserve a reward, don't I? Maybe just one small reward. Just one little taste..."

"Elvis, let's just have dinner." Jordee whispers, trying not to be rude.

"Oh, come on. Can't I just get a kiss?" Elvis looks at Jordee and seems pleading all of a sudden.

"You can't keep a good man waiting. And you're making me feel really hot tonight"

He starts to move his hand higher up her thigh again.

"I'll kiss you if you move your hand away from my thigh."

Elvis looks at her, not wanting to move his hand. He's so tempted to make more of her skin tingle. He's also loving the fact that he's making her feel like this.

But he moves his hand away from her thigh after he sees the expression on her face.

"Fine, then get over here and kiss me."

Jordee kisses Elvis's right cheek. Then his left cheek. She kisses his nose. Then Jordee kisses Elvis' soft lips.

Elvis leans back in the chair as she kisses his face like this. He's getting teased here, and a part of him loves it. However, he still wants a lot more than that.

"Jordee... Can't I have your full lips?"

He's practically begging her at this point while looking at her with such eyes of desire and longing.

Jordee kisses Elvis once more with vigor! She grabs his face in her hands and lays it on him. Massaging her tongue over his, allowing the chips to fall where they may.

He's loving every second of that kiss. He starts to pull her in toward him as he leans back in his chair and gives her even more pressure on their kiss. Elvis is feeling so passionate right now and doesn't want to leave her alone for a second when he's this close to her.

Jordee slowly pulls away from Elvis and looks into his deep blue eyes. She sees a lustful longing there for her. It's enough to make her run away, but she stays seated.

"Elvis, I kissed you. Come on, let's eat. The pizza's getting cold, and I have more questions to ask you."

Elvis seems a little put off that she asked him to stop. He really wants more time with her. But he can't do much right now.

"Alright."

He still looks at her in hopes that she changes her mind and lets him keep kissing her.

"Do you still have questions to ask me?"

"Yes, I do like... Where did you grow up? Do you have siblings?"

"I grew up in Mississippi. I have a sister, but I'm not close to her at all. We don't really get along that well, if I'm being honest."

He takes another sip of wine.

"Did I answer your questions, or do you have more?"

"I have more."

"Alright then. Ask me whatever you want. I'm a pretty open book. I'll answer any questions you have."

"Why do you like me so much?" Jordee asks Elvis frankly.

"You're beautiful. You have a sweet face, a beautiful body, and a great personality."

He looks at her, smiling once more.

"Do I really need to explain why I like you so much?" Elvis asks.

"I'm just making sure it's not just for sex. I'm..." Jordee pauses. "Inexperienced in that... department."

Elvis puts down his wine glass. "What do you mean inexperienced in what?"

Elvis seems a bit lost right now. He's not sure what she meant by that.

Jordee wonders if she should admit this to him, but it just slips out. "I'm a virgin."

"Oh, you are?" Elvis says, smiling and looking at her.

"Well, do you want me to take care of that tonight, or do you want to save it for a special time?"

"No, not right now. Is it a deal breaker for you?"

"No. Of course not." Elvis shakes his head and smiles.

"Are you okay with everything? Or should I slow down?"

Elvis seems to really care about her feelings here and wants to make sure he's not making her uncomfortable.

"Maybe slow down a little."

"I can do that."

He smiles and leans back in his chair, keeping his hand up on her thigh but not moving it around at all.

"Is that better, darling?" Elvis asks.

Jordee takes his hand. "Much better."

He keeps his hand on top of Jordee's hand throughout dinner, even if he's not moving it around now.

Elvis just wants to keep Jordee by his side... and keep her hand in his.

"I wanted to know more about you. Are you enjoying dinner?"

"This is delicious. This wine..." Jordee examines her glass. "I've never tasted a wine quite like this."

"I'm glad you enjoy the wine. You have good taste." Elvis laughs at this and then smiles at her once more.

"Can I ask some more questions? I feel like there's more I want to know about you, too."

"Ask away."

Elvis thinks for a moment and then asks her a rather personal question.

"What's your childhood like?"

He looks at Jordee while sipping his wine. He seems like he feels a connection between them.

"I was pretty open about mine with how distant I was from my mom and dad. I didn't want to leave anything out. That's why I'm curious to know more about yours."

"I had a wonderful childhood. I was an only child for eleven years, and then my mother had my little brothers."

"So you were an only child for quite some time? That's neat! Why were you the only child for eleven years?"

The bartender comes around to collect some plates from the table.

"More wine?"

Elvis looks at her and nods since he likes her being around to answer his questions and just talk to Jordee in general right now.

"My mom fell in love with a guy. They wanted to start a family." Jordee shrugs.

"How many brothers do you have?" Elvis takes another sip of wine and looks at Jordee's expression.

"I like that you're open with me about things. It's cool how you're so trusting."

"I have two little brothers. Not so little anymore. And should I not be trusting?" Jordee says, letting the words Elvis say sink in.

"I think it's great that you trust me already, and it's really nice to see. I'll never do anything to make you not trust me. Just know that much."

Elvis nods and takes another sip of his wine.

"So how old are your brothers?" He asks.

"They're eighteen and nineteen."

"Do you like having brothers? Or would you have liked to be an only child again, like when you were younger?"

Elvis is genuinely curious about this.

"I have a sister myself, but I don't speak to her much anymore. But when I was younger, I thought it was better. Although sometimes I did wonder what it would have been like to be an only child."

"There was a time when I enjoyed my loneliness. But I love my brothers very much, and I would not trade they for anything." Jordee says with confidence. A smile across her lips. "I heard there's a bond that happens between twins, but I believe there's a bond with siblings in general. The way they knew I belonged. It's crazy, really."

Jordee takes a sip of her wine, thinking of her brothers.

"Yeah, I know what you mean..."

Elvis leans back a little bit and sighs a bit, just reflecting and trying to think.

"It's too bad that bond can't happen with my sister and I. But I guess sometimes you just don't connect with someone. And I wouldn't say she's a bad person either. Just... we don't talk like we used to."

Elvis sips his wine again.

"Have you always been close with your brothers since you were little? Or was it a gradual thing?"

"Always." Jordee whispers.

She reminisces about how little the boys once were and how they grew up. How she was happy as an only child, but how much happier they made her by being in the world.

Elvis smiles when he hears this answer. "It's good to always have someone you can count on. Do your parents still live in Tennessee?"

Jordee looks at Elvis.

"My mother and her fiance live in Florida." She says.

"She moved to Florida, huh? Why there?"

He's clearly interested to know about this.

"Did she move there with her fiancé?"

"No, I'm from Florida. I guess I didn't tell you that." Jordee explains.

"Oh, I didn't realize. No, you didn't say it. I wouldn't have guessed. But that's cool. Why did you move away from there? I guess I made a mistake thinking that you were from Tennessee."

He's trying to figure out the timeline here.

"So you were born in Florida then? And you moved to Tennessee after that?"

"I moved to Tennessee after I graduated from college. I'm still close to my mom and brothers. I call them weekly. I visit when I can."

"You must be pretty responsible. You moved away to Tennessee after college. That can be a lot for someone as young as you. You seem like a really smart girl."

Elvis seems to really be praising Jordee, but in a way that feels genuine. He's not just saying these things to try and butter her up.

"So, your mom and fiancé live in Florida? Are they getting married soon?"

"Don't know." Jordee shrugs. "She's weird about discussing it. I don't even know how to explain it."

"What do you mean, 'weird'? Does she just blow it off? Or does she not like to talk about it?" Elvis questions.

"Like she loves him, but there's no date. No dress. No venue. Nothing."

"Oh... That is strange." Elvis takes a sip of his wine.

"Do you think she has problems with commitment? Or is it something else?"

He looks to Jordee, his eyes telling her how curious he is to understand the dynamic of her parents' relationship.

"No, there's no commitment issue. If that were so, he wouldn't be living with her, and my brothers wouldn't exist." Jordee takes her glass of wine and sips.

"That's true." Elvis nods, not knowing what to say to that.

"Do you care if they get married or not? Or does it not really bother you?"

This is a very personal question, yet Elvis feels the connection to ask her this.

"I don't care. I do care about my mom's happiness. If he makes her happy. I'm content." Jordee says, thinking about the conversation she had with her brothers.

"It's funny." Jordee says. "My brothers barely like their own father."

"They don't like their own father very much, huh? I'm assuming their father is your mother's previous husband who raised them before she met her fiancé?"

Elvis takes another sip of his wine.

"Can I know why your brothers don't like their own father?" Elvis asks.

"No, the guy my mother is engaged to is their father. My mom and him have had an on again/off again relationship since I was 11." Jordee explained.

"So I'm guessing he has some problems with commitment, and that's why he's never tried to get married to your mother. Did she ever tell you why she keeps getting back with him?"

Elvis looks at Jordee as if to try and help her make sense of this weird situation she's talking about with her mother.

"She loves him." Jordee rolls her eyes and sips her wine.

"Do your brothers feel the same way as you do with the situation with your mom and her fiancé? Or do they want her to find a new man?"

"They feel the same. I believe there's more respect from them, being that he's their father. But because of the lost time and their father being in and out of their lives since they were babies, it is the main reason they aren't too fond of him. They're adults now. He missed every."

"Ah, I see. He missed the most important early parts of their life... That can do a lot. Did he have any excuse for not being around when they were growing up, or does he just not have an excuse at all?" Elvis wonders.

"I believe he thinks he's here now, and that's what matters." Elvis says, trying to understand the situation.

"I guess so. Although if he was never around when they really needed him, I don't really blame them for not being too fond of him."

Elvis shakes his head as if he can't believe this father that Jordee is describing.

"Did they just resent their father for being absent growing up? Or did something else happen that caused their contempt for him?"

"Being absent is the cause. I'll say this, he was there for them more than my father was there for me."

"Ah, so your father was also absent while you were growing up? How come you don't have a problem with him but your brothers have a problem with their own dad? It's hard to understand."

Elvis is really curious to get to the bottom of this.

Jordee snickers.

"Who said I didn't have a problem with that?" Jordee sips her wine.

"I do, but I don't. I'm not around my father. So, there is no problem."

"Oh, I get it. You don't have an issue with him because you're not around him, so why would you waste your energy thinking about him. And your brothers do have an issue with their father because they are around him."

Elvis nods and sips his wine.

"So does your mother and her fiancé just ignore your brothers' feelings for him?"

"I believe so. It's all so crazy, isn't it?" Jordee says.

"Interesting. I find it rather impressive that you're able to handle this type of stuff calmly compared to your brothers. You're very mature, Jordee."

He smiles at her while looking at her in a way that feels different from before. It feels as if they connect on another level, one that is a lot more personal.

"I'm sure I can be immature at times." Jordee sticks her tongue out at Elvis.

Elvis laughs at Jordee, sticking her tongue out. They spend the next fifteen minutes talking about Jordee's family and early life. Jordee tells Elvis that's she's the oldest and how much she loves her mama. She explains how close she is to her immediate family. Jordee calls them every week and spends as much time as with her family as she can.

Elvis can hear the love Jordee has for her family in her voice. They mean the world to her. Elvis wants so badly to be a part of her world. He just wants to be the man she loves.

Elvis tries to imagine what that must have been like for Jordee. Not having a father around, spending most of her childhood just with her mother, being the one to take care of her younger siblings for the most part. It seems like she had to grow up early, despite her own age.

"You're a remarkable woman, Jordee. The way you handle yourself and the way you can reflect on your life is... mature. You're really special."

Elvis looks at her, looking for her reply to his words.

"Thanks, Elvis. I appreciate that." Jordee says, smiling at Elvis. "Love is infinite. More love, less war. Less ignorance."

"I think we need more love and less war, Jordee. And more appreciation of each other's differences. That's what makes us special, as human beings."

Elvis smiles at her, sipping the rest of his wine.

"This dinner together is definitely something I appreciate. You're a very kind, intelligent woman, Jordee. I'm glad we were able to talk about this kind of stuff."

"Me too. You're very attentive, kind, sweet... dare, I say, charming and curious." Jordee points out.

"I'm glad we can connect on another level like this. It's cool to get to know someone like this." Elvis smiles at Jordee, looking at her for a few seconds before he looks away and stares at the ceiling for a moment.

"It's getting late, though. I've enjoyed this dinner with you. You definitely have a lot going for you, and I hope the night treats you well."

He pats her on the hand, his hand lingering just for a few moments.

"Let's do this again sometime soon."

Elvis gives Jordee one last smile before getting up from the table to pay the bill.

"Well, we are dating, right? I'm at your disposal for tomorrow." Jordee reminds him.

"I'd definitely enjoy another night with you."

Elvis smiles at her and begins digging for his wallet to pay the bill.

"How about tomorrow then. Sound good?" Elvis asks.

Jordee kisses Elvis. "Sounds amazing."

Taglist: @missmaywemeetagain @beeandheroddobsessions @headfullofpresley @everythingpresley @epforeverohyes @vintagepresley @pianginferno @powerofelvis @ab4eva @foreverdolly @searchingforgravity @thatbanditqueen @daffieapple @18lkpeters @dkayfixates @epsgirl @richardslady121 @literally-just-elvis-fics @thememphisflash1935-1977 @vintageshanny @iloveelvis @samfangirls

[twin-skelletons]

The first thing he always did when he got back was run the washing machine. Adrian learned a long time ago that once the blood dried, there was no saving his clothes.

He wouldn’t have bothered washing them before. It was much easier to have them torched and then buy a new set. But then his clothes budget started eating into his food budget. It was only then that Adrian decided to invest in hydrogen peroxide and bleach.

There was never anyone in the laundry room at three o’clock in the morning. Not that it mattered anyway. When Evelyn found out he’d been living in an apartment in at the edge of Alba City, she made a face.

“Be careful out there. You might get jumped…or worse.”

His partner and the rest of the city seemed to have a certain perception of the area, a certain perception that couldn’t be further from the truth. People were barely willing to make eye contact with each other, let alone attempt to jump anyone. If one of Adrian’s neighbors walked in on him scrubbing the bloodstains out of his clothes, they’d probably just apologize before turning around and pretending they didn’t see anything. That’s how much they wanted to mind their own business.

The washer beeped. He took out his collared shirt, inspecting it for stains. Once he saw that it was spotless, he moved the load into the dryer with a satisfied smile.

It’d been a particularly long day. They started the morning with a forty-mile drive out to an abandoned car on the side of the highway. It wasn’t until they opened the trunk that they understood why homicide had been called.

“What kind of monster does this?” Evelyn asked, taking in the sight of the victim splayed out across the blood-matted rug. It was clear he’d been dumped there without any considerations for respect or decency.

“Syndicate.”

“How do you know?”

The slit throat had tipped him off. It was sloppy, so it was probably some grunt that lacked experience, but it did the job. Adrian kept that part to himself. Instead, he pulled on his gloves and pointed at the subtle outline in the victim’s front pocket. It was a long, thin, cylindrical shape.

“Red Eye,” Evelyn said.

Sure enough, Adrian reached in and pulled out an empty vial. “Bag it. We’ll send it over for a chemical analysis once we get back.”

Evelyn grabbed an evidence bag and held it open for Adrian to drop the vial in. Once she sealed it, she brought it back to their cruiser.

Adrian caught a glimpse of something peeking out from underneath the rug. He pulled out a half-used matchbook. Even though it’d been crumpled and creased, Adrian recognized the logo: a tree with a snake wrapped around the trunk.

He glanced over his shoulder. Evelyn was still at the cruiser, securing the evidence in the trunk. The patrol officers who had taped off the surrounding area were chatting across the way. In one swift movement, Adrian tucked the matchbook into one of the inside pockets of his coat.

“Does he have anything else on him?” Evelyn asked when she came back. Adrian handed her the victim’s wallet. She flipped it open and pulled out his driver’s license. “Roy Marino. Lived in Alba City. Eighteen years old.” There was a pause as she examined the photo. He had a gentle smile and wide eyes. When she lowered the card, she saw those same wide eyes staring back at her, completely glazed over. “He was just a kid.”

The rest of the day followed protocol. They got the vial back to the lab before heading to the address on Roy’s ID. His mother answered the door with a smile. As soon as they introduced themselves, her smile faded. They never even made it into the living room. Adrian and Evelyn knelt beside her in the threshold of the door, taking turns offering their condolences as she sobbed into her hands.

“So Roy sneaks out sometime after midnight and dispatch gets the call about the car at six in the morning,” Evelyn recapped, cupping her coffee mug with both hands. “In between all that, he gets his hands on a vial of Red Eye. If we’re waiting on autopsy and lab results, then we should work on retracing his steps.”

They were at a diner halfway between the Marino’s residence and the office. It was supposed to be lunch, but one of the occupational hazards of being a detective was that you rarely had an appetite. Adrian sat across from his partner, taking a long drag from his cigarette. She subconsciously leaned away from him when he smoked, like the few-inch difference would somehow save her from the smell. That’d be great if the entire diner wasn’t filled with chain smokers and every piece of furniture hadn’t already been permeated with decades of smoke.

“What makes you think he ‘got his hands on’ Red Eye? For all we know, he could be a dealer. Syndicate, even.”

“He wasn’t.”

Adrian’s eyes narrowed. “Because…?”

“I just know. He was a good kid. No mother would cry like that if he wasn’t.”

One of Evelyn’s classic lines. ‘I just know’ this, ‘gut feeling’ that. Once she started sympathizing with someone, it was like she had on blinders. Adrian didn’t bother continuing his line of questioning. Agree to disagree. That’s how their partnership worked.

“What’s the plan?”

Evelyn waved her communicator. “The car just came back registered to a Darnell Sala. He reported it stolen a week ago. Seems like a decent place to start.”

At least it started out decent. Mr. Sala didn’t know anything beyond the fact that his car had been stolen from a gas station while he was inside using the bathroom. When they tried pulling security camera footage, they found that all the cameras were fake. The gas station owner claimed they ‘looked real enough’ to deter punks from trying anything. Apparently not.

The rest of the day was spent going up and down the street into local businesses to see if they could find any witnesses. When that didn’t surface anything useful, they started sifting through traffic camera footage. It wasn’t until Evelyn looked up from the screen to see the night sky out the window that they stopped.

“It’s already ten. I have to get my notes ready for court tomorrow,” she hissed as she scooped papers and files into her bag. “You’re going to be there, right?”

It was a rhetorical question. If Adrian had a choice, he’d be anywhere but there. Still, he nodded. “Yeah. Just gonna finish up here.”

With that, Evelyn excused herself. Adrian kept scrubbing through the footage in their empty office. Outside, the muffled footsteps of the night shift carried through the walls. The light from the hallway spilled in from the crack beneath the door. His eyes watched the screen for the black car. As the footage played at double speed, cars flew past, pedestrians moved at unnatural speeds, and the traffic lights flickered. Even while keeping track of all of that, Adrian’s mind was elsewhere. Specifically, it was on the matchbook inside his pocket.

He got up from his desk a little past one. It was about that time.

A neon sign of a snake wrapped around the trunk of a tree bathed the street below in reds and greens. It was a weekday, so it was a quieter night for The Garden. The club usually had a line wrapped around the corner and a team of valet drivers and bouncers crowded at the entrance. Tonight, it was empty.

Adrian took one more drag of his cigarette before tossing it and crossing the street. The single bouncer barely acknowledged his presence, giving him a slight side-eye before looking ahead again. The inside was tamer than what Adrian was used to. Usually, the music was so loud that it made the floor vibrate and poured out into the street. There was a live band tucked away into the corner playing something slow, romantic. The only couple in the place swayed on the dancefloor.

You didn’t need to be a detective to know exactly who Adrian was there for. One, there was probably a total of twelve people in there including the band and bartender. And two, the kid sitting in the worst-lit area of the club was practically swimming in sweat. Adrian could almost see the puddles collecting on the table as the kid splayed his hands against the marble. Keeping his back to the kid, Adrian took a seat at the bar and called the bartender over.

“I’ll take a Piña Colada.”

The bartender blinked, processing his order. “Excuse me?”

“No Piña Colada? I guess a Blue Hawaiian will do.”

“Uh, no, I can make you a Piña Colada.” The bartender looked him up and down, waiting for Adrian to spring the inevitable ‘just kidding’. When that didn’t happen, he bowed his head slightly. “I’ll be right back, sir.”

Adrian glanced at the kid from one of the mirrors that lined the back wall of the bar. When Adrian called him a kid, he meant it. He couldn’t be a day over twenty-one. More likely than not, he was sneaking around with a fake ID. Or he was a part of something bigger, something that couldn’t give two shits about the legal drinking age. Adrian didn’t have to wait long to get his answer.

At the same moment the bartender set his cocktail in front of him, three men came in through the door. Adrian didn’t have to turn around or glance at their reflection to know they were Syndicate. He knew from the way their presence sucked the air out of the room. He also knew it from how the other patrons looked away.

Turning a blind eye. That’s what this city did best.

The men didn’t waste any time with pleasantries. As soon as they got to the kid’s table, the shortest of the three spoke. “Did you take care of it?”

The kid nodded rapidly. Any faster and his head would’ve snapped right off his neck. “Of course! Of course!”

There was a long pause. Eventually, Adrian heard the sound of the booth creak as all three men took a seat. They scooted in, pinning the kid between them.

“Can I explain something to you?” The short guy again. His voice was raspy, like all he did was inhale cigarettes by the pack.

“Of cou–”

The short guy raised a hand, cutting him off. “Just listen. Here’s how it works: we give you Red Eye to deal to punkass kids who have nothing better to do with their lives, you collect their money, you give the money to us, and we let you keep a cut. Rinse and repeat. You follow me so far?”

Rapid nodding.

“Okay. Now, a question. Where, in that very simple process, does a kid stealing from your stash before you get a single woolong out of him fit in?”

“I’m sorry, Ace! I know I fucked up but I took care of it just like you showed me!”

Ace clicked his tongue. Motioning to one of his henchmen, there was a resounding bang as he slammed something on the table in front of the kid. Adrian could tell by the extended silence that the kid was taking whatever it was.

“Tell me what you’re looking at.”

“The outside of my apartment.”

“And?”

“Two kids running down the street.”

“Did you ‘take care’ of two kids?”

If the kid was half a second quicker, maybe he could’ve gotten away with it. That half a second made all the difference in the world. “Of cou–”

“Don’t you dare lie to me, Tommy!”

Adrian felt the rest of the patrons jump at the sudden roar. After a moment, they resumed whatever it was they were doing. Talking, swaying, playing music.

Quietly, Tommy spoke. “I’ll find the other one. It’ll never happen again, Ace. I promise.”

“I know it won’t.”

The henchmen to the right of Tommy grabbed his head, his two massive hands completely engulfing the kid’s skull. In an instant, he snapped his neck. This time, none of the patrons even flinched. The only response Adrian noticed was the way the bartender’s eyes slid shut as he took a breath. When he opened them again, all Adrian saw was exhaustion. He’d probably witnessed the same scene play out before him countless times. To him, it wasn’t a murder. Not even a crime. If anything, it was the same thing as locking your door before heading out or brushing your teeth before bed. Routine. 

Ace and his men continued their conversation, calling over to the bartender for a round of beers. Tommy’s body was slumped somewhere beneath the table already long forgotten. Once Adrian finished his drink, he stood up.

“Will that be all for tonight, sir?”

“Yeah.”

“Your total is a thousand woolongs.”

“You can put it on their tab.” He tilted his head in the direction of the Syndicate members. Again, the bartender waited for a ‘just kidding’. Again, it never came. “Tell them I’ll be waiting out back to thank them.”

A few expressions flashed across the bartender’s features. Unsurprisingly, the first was fear. Relaying the fact that Ace and his men had an extra charge on their bill was a guaranteed death sentence. And then he actually looked at them. Clinking their bottles together, shooting the breeze, laughing. Somewhere at their feet, a kid’s body lay in a crumpled pile. His gaze moved over to the other side of the club where the patrons remained in their own little worlds. Eventually, Adrian saw the expression he wanted to see.

“As you wish.”

There was still the chance that the bartender could chicken out. Adrian considered the possibility as he leaned against a brick wall a few alleys down from The Garden. It wouldn’t really change anything. The sun would rise, he’d present evidence in court, he and Evelyn would continue working Roy’s case until they were eventually led back to Tommy, and then it’d be over. Somewhere in there the sun would set, but that was one thing Adrian had a hard time keeping track of. Whether he took care of it tonight or not didn’t matter, and yet he found his palms itching.

“Ah, there you are.” Adrian turned toward the voice. Ace and his henchmen were standing near the entrance of the alleyway, still close enough to the streetlights to cast long shadows. “And where’s that ‘thank you’ I was promised?”

Adrian pushed himself off the wall. Their hands shot into their pockets in response to the sudden movement and only paused when Adrian showed that he was empty-handed.

“Thanks for treating. And sorry if I’m a little nervous. It’s not every day you meet Syndicate members in the flesh.”

Ace laughed at that. It was a strangled sound, like air leaking out of a balloon. “Why would you pull shit like that if you knew we were Syndicate?” They continued to close in on Adrian, backing him further down the alley. Even the streetlights couldn’t reach them now.

“Well, I can’t just ask for a vial of Red Eye in the middle of a club.”

A smirk stretched across Ace’s lips. “It’s bad manners to eavesdrop.”

So is snapping a kid’s neck in front of a bunch of strangers. Adrian had already pushed his luck enough tonight, so he held his tongue. Instead, he dug into one of his inside coat pockets and pulled out a stack of woolongs.

The sight of the money changed Ace’s tune in an instant. He cleared his throat before grabbing the stack. “I’ll overlook it just this once.” He thumbed through the bills until his fingers came to a sudden stop. “You’re short.”

Adrian’s hands shot up to his chest in surrender. “Nervous, remember? I’ve got it right here.” He reached back into his coat.

But he wasn’t reaching for money.

From his waistband, Adrian unsheathed one of his knives. He lunged forward, closing the distance between himself and the henchman in front of him. With one swing of his arm, Adrian plunged the knife into the side of the man’s neck.

It was always after the first kill that the world seemed to slow down. Adrian thought of it like dominos. One movement flowed seamlessly into the next. It was just a matter of aligning himself.

In his periphery, he saw Ace turn to run. The remaining henchman was reaching for his gun. Adrian inhaled as all the steps fell into place.

He yanked his knife free before pivoting, rushing directly at the other henchman. Fear glinted in the man’s wide eyes as he lifted his gun and tried to aim down his sights. But Adrian was faster. He snapped his right leg up, kicking the gun out of the man’s trembling fingers. Switching from a reverse grip to a forward, Adrian swung up, the blade piercing the bottom of the henchman’s jaw and up through his skull.

All that was left was Ace. He was still scrambling toward the street. Pulling his knife free, Adrian held it out in front of him, level with the center of Ace’s back. The weight was familiar. Comfortable. With the blade balanced on his fingers, he wound his arm back. And then he threw.

A satisfying thud followed as Ace fell to the ground.

Adrian took his time approaching. It was amusing to watch the man haul himself across the pavement. While he was small in comparison to his henchmen, he looked even smaller now. When Adrian got close, Ace froze.

“Please…” It came out more like a wheeze than a coherent word.

Adrian kneeled with one leg on either side of the man. He reached down to cover Ace’s mouth with one hand before yanking the knife out of his back with the other. The man’s screams were muffled by his leather gloves. Adrian squeezed as he pulled up on Ace’s jaw.

“This is what you showed Tommy, right?” Adrian leaned down, pressing the blade to Ace’s exposed throat. “I mean, of course you did. It’s classic Syndicate. I’m sure you teach all your recruits. It's just too bad most of them do a shitty job.”

Ace thrashed and kicked out his legs and pleaded. At least, Adrian assumed he was pleading.

“Let’s show them how it’s done.”

Navigation: ENTRY I

[slimeywooper]

Labmas AU - Unintended Consequences

Chapter 15 Part 3 - Friendship

Walking side by side, the two of you get to the wash room and begin your task. Kudari hands you the towels, and you put them in the washing machine with the detergent and start the load. When they are done, you both take turns folding and returning them to the cabinet.

As the pile gets smaller, there's even some lab coats found in the hamper. You make the comment, "How lazy are some of these people? They can't do their own laundry? Only towels or similar things are supposed to be in here, not personal clothing."

Kudari smirks at you deviously, "Hee hee, let's just wash them on the same cycle with the towels. If the colors run, or they get torn, it's their fault for leaving it for someone else to do! They'll think twice next time."

You can't help but smile, saying, "Okay, that's a little passive-aggressive, but at least they would be clean." Giving him a side glance, you add, "If they come asking, I'm telling them it was your idea."

"Very well!" he exclaims, slam dunking the lab coats into the washer with some towels. "I'm positive they will retract any bad statements after you tell them that. Sometimes it's good when people fear you."

"I guess so. As long as it's people you don't like," you admit, with Kudari nodding along. Since you are alone, you decide to talk about a more personal subject, "The other night, when I came to see you, I was in a bad mood. Finding out that Nobori has to do such awful things really broke my heart. No one should have to do that. It's not something that is good for your soul."

He doesn't acknowledge most of it, instead focusing on something different, "Did you mean what you said? That you wish we could leave here?"

"Well, yeah, this place is really awful at times. Colress can be such an asshole," you tell him without reservation.

"It has long been a dream of mine to travel around Unova, maybe even the world. Perhaps someday we can go together…" he looks at you with an expectant longing.

Deep in your heart, you know it won't ever happen. That Colress would never allow it. Not wanting to let him down though, you attempt to agree without egging him on, "That would be wonderful, but for now, there's still a lot to be done. We'd have to convince Colress, also. That's liable to take some time. Having a dream is good, but try not to be too wrapped up in it that you are disappointed it can't happen right away." Lying to him felt awful, and the way his eyes sparkled at your words made it even worse. If only there were some way you really could leave. "We're almost done here. Afterwards, we can play some games."

The last couple loads are done with sparse words being exchanged. kudari is oddly contemplative, but you chalk it up to him planning on what games to show you. As the final towels are folded and put away, Colress comes in, unannounced.

"Uh… did you need something? We're just now finishing…" you say, mild confusion evident in your voice.

"I'm just here to see how things are coming along, though already being finished is an optimal outcome." Colress walks further into the room, inspecting different areas. He peeks into the empty hamper, then takes the few steps required to get to the cabinet, opening it to observe the neatly folded towels and lab coats. Nodding, he looks back to the both of you and addresses Kudari, "I must say, I'm impressed. You actually did a good job today, without screwing anything up. Of course it took something as simple as laundry for you to succeed, but little steps at a time." Colress gives him a hollow smile.

Kudari takes the backhanded compliment with a scowl, but offers no protest.

Colress continues, "Hopefully you can keep up the good work. There's something interesting planned for tomorrow. Frank is working on getting an Ultra Wormhole to form in a specific place. He's trying to fine-tune the exact location the connected portal opens. We have two rooms set up on the second floor. If his calculations are correct, the Ultra Wormhole in one room should lead directly to the one in the other. You two will be delivering some Pokemon for him to test the connection between them, so be prepared for that." Glancing to you, he instructs, "(Y/N), tomorrow I'll wait for you on the third lab floor." Attention returning to Kudari once more, he adds, "Until then, Kudari, I'll return you to your room." Walking to the door, he opens it, announcing, "Alright, let's go."

Grabbing Kudari by the shoulder, you inform him, "I'll see you later. Thanks for the help."

He doesn't respond, quietly moving to follow Colress.

As they leave, you slip out behind them and make your way to Nobori's room. You have to request that he let you out of Kudari's place when you are finished there. Knocking on the door, he answers it, his face now its natural lavender color. He gives you a sad smile, then utters, "How can I help you, (Y/N)?"

"Sorry to bother you, but do you think you can let me into Kudari's room for a little bit? I told him we could hang out after work today, but obviously I can't get in or out on my own." You aren't sure if he's aware that Kudari knows the passcode, but you don't want to expose it, just in case.

"Oh… of course. I'll let you in, and you can page me when you are ready to go." Nobori steps out of his room, closing the door behind him. "I'm sure Kudari is beside himself with joy that you are spending time with him. Thank you for that."

Fighting through the uncomfortable feelings, you reply, "It's no problem. He's a good friend, I hope I can be a good friend to him, as well."

Pausing, he says, "Before we go, I must beg for your forgiveness. I've been thinking over the events that transpired between us, and I admit, I was very upset the last time we talked. However, it was not my intention to be so dismissive of you. Though I am unwavering in my decision to keep my own secrets, I shouldn't have been so blunt."

Surprised by his apology, you try to reassure him, "Don't be too hard on yourself. I shouldn't push you for information you aren't ready to freely offer. But, please know, I really didn't plan to 'lead you on' or anything of the sort! I still really care for you, it's just…"

"My work…" he finishes the sentence for you. "I know you never had any malicious intentions, I would have felt them if you did." Nobori begins walking, "I'm sure Kudari is waiting. Shall we?"

"Yeah, I'm ready. We can talk more later." The journey is made in silence. Colress has already left when you both arrive at Kudari's room. He must not have been in the mood for callous cruelty. At least you won't have to explain why you want to hang out with Kudari. After how he reacted to you being with Nobori, he'd likely freak out again, even if it is just a meeting between friends.

Inputting the passcode, Nobori looks to you as the door opens. "Do let me know when you are ready to depart."

Nodding, you sincerely thank him before Kudari eagerly yanks you inside, door closing after your body clears the area.

"I am so happy you are here!" he says at a loud volume. Finding your footing, you look up to him. He has the biggest smile you've ever seen. "This is my room!" he announces, moving over to the display cases. "These are all my model kits! And over here is my bed," he scuttles to the web, pointing at it. He's so excited, you don't want to interrupt him with a reminder that you've been in his room once before, getting him a shirt.

Kudari doesn't stop speaking, vocalizing his thoughts, "It gets very boring without my computer. I've mostly just been playing console games. All my model kits are already painted and assembled, I need to ask Nobori to get me more. Did you know he has a credit card to use when he's on the outside? He even has a fake I.D. for when he has to stay somewhere overnight!" He pats a spot on his bed, "You can sit here, it's the most comfortable part of the web!"

At first glance, it looks like a typical web, but upon closer inspection, you can see it has multiple tiers. The higher level is at a gradual slope, resembling a recliner that's slightly leaning back. Kudari must have had to learn to make his bed in a way that lets his upper body be supported by part of the web, as his Galvantula abdomen sits on the bottom portion. Tentatively placing your hand on the lowest part, you check it's durability. A small indent forms, but it holds tightly. Sitting down, you ask him, "So, how did you get into model kits, anyway? It's not a common hobby, at least not from what I've seen."

"Oh, it was Emmet that first told me about it. He and Ingo came to visit when Nobori and I were twelve, and he mentioned how when he was that age he started repainting their train toys, and then discovered different types of kits. I've been doing them ever since, though mine aren't trains, obviously." Turning on his Switch console, he remains standing so you can be somewhat closer in height than if he were to get on the web with you. "I've been playing my Switch recently, but I also have a PlayStation 5 and Xbox X! We can play some classic games using the Online subscription, then move to more recent ones."

You two are able to compare and contrast the various video games that your respective worlds have. Though when it comes to skill at any genre, you don't stand a chance. After a couple of hours, you decide to leave for the day. "Alright, that's it! If I play anymore, I'm gonna get a headache."

"Do you have to go so soon? I was hoping we could play a few more…" he states, crestfallen.

"I'm starting to feel a bit tired, but don't worry. We can hang out again tomorrow after work," you pat him on his arm, reassuringly. "Maybe we can use a different console, to mix it up."

Pulling out your phone, you text Nobori, 'ready'.

As Kudari is silently watching you, his fangs begin to secrete a substance that pools at the tips and drops onto his shirt. Looking down at the stains, he exclaims, "I am so sorry!" Reaching into his chest pocket, he retrieves a handkerchief similar to Nobori's, and dabs at the source in an attempt to curb the flow. "Sometimes when I am lost in thought my venom ducts overproduce."

"Are you okay?" you inquire, concerned for his well-being.

"Yes, I'm fine. It's fine. I will see you later." He nods lightly, not wanting to cause more seepage.

From the right, you hear the door open. Turning, you see Nobori standing there.

"Okay, if you're sure you're alright. Let's continue this tomorrow." Standing from the web, you stretch and walk to the door. Before you forget again, you turn to face him, and mention in a stern tone, "And Kudari, we'll be talking about why you haven't been taking care of that," you point to the scab on his throat.

His eyes go wide, face burning from embarrassment as he looks down. "Yes. That will be fine. Good night."

Nobori moves to the side as you step out, the door closing behind you. As you both walk together, he pipes up, "I hope you enjoyed yourself, I'm sure Kudari did. Have a pleasant evening." He waves, continuing ahead of you in the direction of his room.

You call after him, "Just because we're only friends doesn't mean you have to be so formal, but, thank you."

He turns back and smiles before going his own way.

Despite how badly the weekend went, and how reticent you were to start the day, things didn't go horrendously, like you feared they would. Working with Kudari went well. If every day could have even a fraction of the productivity displayed, there may be hope for a somewhat manageable future. Colress would still be a hassle, but as long as things were getting done, he wouldn't have anything to complain about. Twenty years sounds like a long time, but when it comes to someone's death, it's no time at all. You are going to make it your mission to spend every opportunity with Kudari, and even Nobori, if he is willing.

Riding the elevator up, you stop by the locker room to put your lab coat away. Before reaching your dorm, you stop by the cafeteria to grab something to eat. After arriving to your room, you think about Nobori. He seemed less upset today than he did on Saturday night, even apologizing to you. Though you appreciated the gesture, he really didn't have to. For such a scary assassin, he was too sweet for his own good. Breaking up with him obviously wasn't something he was expecting. He had every right to be upset, and state his boundaries, even if it was hard to hear. You still aren't sure how to navigate the situation with him, but the short conversation you two had was a step in the right direction. Hopefully, there will eventually be no awkwardness between you, and you can go back to being regular friends, although there is still a part of you that wishes for more.

[diazsdimples]

James' Fic Master List

(In order of favourites)

Play me like a fiddle (Explicit, 34k | Buddie)

Eddie plays the French Horn for the Los Angeles Philharmonic and is told about the wonderful new cello soloist playing with them for this concert. He sounds like a pretentious asshole and Eddie vows not to like him. In walks Evan Buckley, cellist from New York and soloist for this concert. Eddie quickly realises he's in trouble as the man immediately casts a spell on him, turning Eddie into a blushing mess. Can he put aside his feelings for Buck long enough to remain a professional and get through this week without making any poor decisions? (Spoiler Alert: he cannot)

In a drought I'll give you water (Explicit, 8.2k | Buddie)

Eddie’s hanging out the washing when he notices it. Just for the record, it’s not like he regularly inspects Buck’s underwear, thank you very much, but he’d felt something tacky on the inside of the flimsy fabric when he’d been about to peg it up, and had investigated like any sane person would do. Eddie’s initial thought is “fucking washing machine, can’t even wash out the laundry powder”, mostly because there’s a white residue under where his thumb was placed moments earlier and there’s been occasions when their black shirts have had clumps of laundry powder still on them despite the tossing about they’ve received in the washer. Or: Eddie finds come on Buck's underwear and panics

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“Hey Buck! Are you doing anything today?” Christopher’s voice is a little tinny through his phone’s speaker, cracking a little. Buck hums, pretending to think. “Hmmmm, my diary looks pretty booked. Says right here that I’ve got to watch three episodes of crappy reality tv and then eat loads of fried chicken. I’m swamped.” “Buck,” Christopher says flatly and Buck laughs, loud and ringing through the loft. “I’m only kidding. What’s up, kid?” “The baby hippo has finally born at the zoo and we have to go see her! Can you come over today, please?” OR Buck, Eddie and Christopher go to the zoo to see the baby hippo and Eddie gets all up in his feels about it.

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Buck's life is turned upside down when a newborn baby is placed on his doorstep, with allegations that it is his child. Buck quickly steps into his new role of "dad", with the help from his family and friends. Follow Buck, Aidan, Eddie and Christopher as they navigate new babies, blossoming relationships, illnesses, injuries and making their own little family.

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Buck and Eddie's 10 month old daughter says her first words. Her dads are over the moon. Cue domestic fluff