#I really don't want to live right next to a construction site for years when I work from home

[damnprecious]

apartment hunting be like 'that flat is in an inconvenient neighborhood, that building is right next to a massive construction site, that kitchen hasn't been updated since like the 70s and the stove looks like a fire hazard, this apartment has a super inconvenient layout, this hasn't got enough storage, a minimum one year contract...'

[knightjpg]

Brick by Brick

And like a dog who's learned a new trick Simon rings your bell the next day. Wasn't happy with how he left it, and wasn't that faucet leaking? He's got plenty of spare wood in his shed, don't you worry. What's that about the boiler making a weird noise? He'll take a look at it, might have something for the draft in the hallway too. Pay him? What are you talking about, he does stuff like this for fun. Don't sweat it, love. Just hand him that wrench.

tags: construction worker simon/neighbour reader

part 1 | part 2

Summer is the worst time of year for construction work outside. Up early before the birds are awake to try and beat the heat, arriving on site at six or earlier with bleary eyes and creaky joints from the day before. It means coming home at four or five with lots of day left to get through yet without the will or energy to do anything beside shower, eat, watch some telly, and sleep. 

The pay is good and it beats sitting in a cramped office all day, but when Simon gets home with aching knees and the thrum of a headache at the back of his skull it's hard to remember why on Earth he chose the career he's in. He's drenched in sweat, large dark patches adorning his pits and back. 

It's one of those days where very little can make him stray from his commute straight to home to collapse into his big falling-apart chair, but today it's not really up to him. A large moving truck blocks his driveway. The faded company logo against dirty white overtakes the entire view of his windshield, though Simon can see the back doors are still swung open. No one to attend to it, though. 

Simon noticed the FOR SALE! sign had gone, of course. Remembers feeling vaguely pleased, even, that the home next to his wouldn't be empty anymore, because he of all people knows exactly how quickly places can fall apart without anyone tending to it. But right now all he feels is tired, and hot, and really fucking annoyed. Just when he's clicked his belt loose to get out of the car and see if the dolt belonging to the truck is anywhere to be found, voices carry from the open front door. 

“...last. I'm afraid it's a little heavy, though, so maybe we should get the boxes out first?” 

And out steps the sweetest little thing he's ever seen. Hair tied up, tight little top, and shorts that give him ample view of your legs.  

Maybe summer's not so bad after all. 

You're talking to a bloke wearing a uniform that matches the moving truck and who looks flushed in the face from exertion. As soon as you clock Simon's car, though, you stop mid-sentence in surprise, and then quickly walk to him, brows furrowed apologetically. 

“Oh, I'm so sorry—you're trying to get past us, aren't you?” Simon gives you a nod, and you turn back to the mover. “Would you mind moving the truck up a little? I don't want it to be in the way.” 

There's precious little parking space ahead, so Simon rolls down his window and calls out to you, “Jus’ backing up a few yards s’fine.” He gestures to his driveway so you know that's where he's headed, and you flash him a smile and a thumbs-up in understanding. 

The truck is moved, Simon parks his car, and you pull another heavy-looking box from the cube. You never reach your new doorstep with it; Simon steps in and lifts it from your hands. You blink up at him, lashes fluttering sweetly with surprise. “Oh—are you sure? It's heavy...!” 

One corner of Simon's mouth tugs up. Tired as he is it weighs next to nothing, and he can't resist holding it with one arm, holding out the other. 

“Can take ‘nother if you need.” 

You laugh and assure him this is quite enough, then jog back to the truck while Simon pushes past the half-open door to his new neighbour's home. 

It's a mess, of course. Piles of boxes, scattered furniture, rolled-up carpets. Simon puts the box down in the living room, then saunters back outside to lift another from your hands. He does the same with the couch; the mover is struggling and Simon doesn't trust him not to let it fall and crash. And you're such a little thing. Just doesn't feel right, watching you rush around and struggle without stepping in. 

With Simon's help it's quick work. The mover thanks Simon before driving off, but he's not really listening. There's much more important things to pay attention to. 

You're pretty. Cheeks flushed from exertion, breathing hard, flyaway hairs from your ponytail sticking up in odd directions. Simon has to suppress the urge to smooth them away. 

"Thanks so much for the help,” you tell him earnestly. “I'm sorry we were in the way—we thought we'd have a little more time before people started coming home from work.” 

“S’alright,” Simon says. It's nearing evening, now, the sky above you glowing in pale pink and oranges hues. The little smatter of trees across from you rustles with a gust of summer wind.  

You introduce yourself and insist on giving Simon your number “in case there's ever anything you need.” Simon's more concerned about a young woman living all on her own but takes your number all the same, watching your pretty little fingers tap it in on his phone. 

“I mostly work from home, but I'm very quiet and boring,” you tell him with a smile. “You don't have to worry about noise.” 

For some reason that isn't the selling point it should be. When Simon stands inside his hallway, house empty and dark and quiet, he wishes he still lived in a shitty apartment with thin walls on the bad side of Manchester. Maybe then he'd hear your footsteps, or better yet, your voice. Instead the only thing waiting for him at home is silence. Heavy and thick, where he's ripped away from sweet sunshine and plunged underwater. 

-

Simon is halfway to falling asleep on the couch when the bell rings. He groans, drags a hand over his face, and glances up at the TV. The football match is still going. The camera pans over a cheering crowd, their cries distant and quiet. 

He mutes the thing entirely and heaves himself up to open the door. Swear to God, if this is the fucking salesman again... 

“Hi there.” 

You give Simon a little finger wave, your other hand cradling a round oven dish. When you shift on your feet the protective foil on top rustles noisily. 

You look a little more put together than you did yesterday—rested, showered, fed. Just as pretty. 

Although, speaking of fed... 

“Alright?” Simon asks, eyes on the oven pan. He's only catching a faint whiff of something, but whatever it is smells really fucking good. His stomach reminds him that the only thing in his fridge are a couple cans of beer.  

You nod and lift the dish with a shy little grin. “Yeah. Um. I wanted to say thanks again, for yesterday. And I wanted to test out my oven, so...” 

You hold the dish out for him to take. Simon's fingers brush yours, large meaty paws easily twice the size of your own. When he peels back the foil you add, “Shepherd's pie. I thought about cookies, but I wasn't sure if you'd like those.” 

The scent hits him, then, rich and hearty and buttery smooth. The dish is still a little warm. 

Fuck. When was the last time he ate something homemade? 

“No, I'll eat anything,” he says, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. He hasn't showered yet. Must look a nightmare. Does he stink? “Thanks.” 

Your whole face lights up, and Simon's neck feels hot. He averts his eyes to avoid your gaze and pretends to inspect the pie instead. Jesus, what is he, twelve? “I'm glad. I'll leave you to it, then.” 

D’you want to come in for a drink?  

It's on the tip of his tongue, but he can't get the words out quite right and gives you a brusque nod, watching you walk back to your own home before closing his door all the way. 

He eats at his kitchen table and finishes the whole thing in one go. Chases bits of flakey crust with his finger, licks up every leftover crumb. The meat is tender and juicy and for a while after the only things he smells is golden-brown potatoes seasoned with rosemary. 

He mourns it when it's gone, of course. Has half a mind to go over right now and ask if your cooking is for hire—Simon can't remember the last time he felt satisfied. When he ate not just for the sake of fuel or convenience but because someone wanted him to have something nice, something special. Is it special? Is he special? Are you going around the neighbourhood handing out cookies and pies to just anyone? 

Simon's sigh is loud in the silence and sticks to the kitchen walls. 

The pre-made frozen meals are fine, of course. Empty plastic containers fill up the rubbish bin. They're easy and cheap and most days Simon's glad just to have something warm in his stomach.  

And yet. 

The next day Simon stands at your door at six in the evening sharp, holding the clean dish in his hands. You invite him in for a cup of tea, because unlike him you have good manners, and you sheepishly apologise for the stacks of boxes everywhere. 

“S’alright,” Simon says, carefully manoeuvring around a large pile of books. “I don't mind.” 

And he doesn't, though he does feel like a bull in a china shop. Large and much too coarse for the little tea cup you hand him while the kettle whistles on the stove. 

“I'm afraid I don't have much to go with it,” you say with a flutter of your hands. “Do you like ginger snaps? I think I've got a pack somewhere.” 

You don't wait for his answer and pry open one of the cupboards. First come the ginger snaps, then the box of Earl Grey, which you hold up to him with a triumphant smile. “Unpacked the important stuff first.” 

Simon frowns and jerks his chin to the cupboard. “S’it stuck?” 

“Oh—yeah. They all are.” You give the wood a little knock. “It'll take me some time to get to fixing everything. The house went for a good price, but only ‘cause it needs some love.” You give him a rueful smile and get up, wiping your hands on your thighs. “I'm not all that handy, so I'll have to take it bit by bit.” 

Simon rises before you finish your sentence. "Let me see.” 

“Oh, no, it's okay. It's not a big deal, really—” 

Simon crouches down, slowly, to spare his knees, and tests the hinges. The wood is rotten in certain places, the hinges old and rusted. Rather than fixing it up it should be replaced entirely. You really better had gotten this place for good money, because this will take more than a bit of elbow grease to repair. He prods at the hinges, tuts, and looks up at you. 

“Ready to fall apart, this one. You said they're all like this?” 

You nod, worry creasing your brow. “I—yes. Well, the kitchen is. The bathroom seems alright. Is it worse than I thought?” 

“Might be. You have anyone look at this?” 

You shake your head. “I'm starting to feel silly about it now, but I was going to look up how to do it myself.” 

Simon straightens. “I'll go get my kit.” 

-

It's not as bad as he feared. Two cabinets need tearing down completely, but the others are worth saving. Simon warns you the repair job will fuck the wood, but you tell him it's no problem; you'll paint over it anyway. 

You feed him tea and ginger snaps while he works, asking him several times if he wouldn't like a break, hasn't he done a lot already? You feel terrible about having him work on his day off. Didn't he say he worked construction? He must be so tired, poor man. You insist he stay for dinner. “You've been so helpful—it's the least I could do.” 

Simon takes a breather to watch you cook. Chicken, pasta, summer salad. The sun sinks lower and hits you straight on from the kitchen window, painting the edges of you a dazed red-gold. An angel's halo. 

“You big on reading, then?” 

You turn down the heat and put a lid over the pan to join him at the table. Simon's eyeing the many books strewn about on top of boxes that say “pans” and “kitchen supplies”. Le Morte D’Arthur. Histories of the Kings of Britain. Beowulf. There's even one that prompts a vague, long-forgotten memory from his school days— The Canterbury Tales.  

“I am. Always have been.” You nod to the books. “I teach at university—medieval literature. But I'm working on my own research on the side.” 

Simon lets out a low whistle. His pretty bird is a clever one. Smarter than him, that's for sure. He might be big and strong but he's got bricks for brains. 

That's what his dad always used to say, anyway—that he's stupid. Those always were his kinder moments. 

“That explains all the books y’got.” 

“There sure are a lot of them, aren't there? I swear moving really makes you realise just how much stuff you own...” You shake your head. “I'll have to get a bigger bookcase.” 

“Think it's impressive.” 

Your eyes crinkle with a smile. “Not as impressive as knowing how to fix my cabinets! I don't know how I would've managed by myself.” You hop up from your seat to check the food, then ask over your shoulder, “Is that something you do a lot for work, too? Carpentry and the like?” 

Simon shakes his head. “We do the heavy lifting. Clearing a place out, laying the foundation. Johnny—my coworker, he's mostly on machinery. Kyle does transport and plumbing. I do the heavier handiwork.” 

You hum and start plating the food while asking him more questions. Is the pay good? Is his boss fair? Are his coworkers nice? 

Price's fairly strict is what he is, Simon answers, and you laugh again. He likes that. Likes that he gets you to do that. 

He wolfs down a plate of his pasta and devours the chicken. It's fragrant, roasted with lemon and thyme, bursts between his teeth. He tells you more about Johnny, that he's a cocky bastard who likes playing with electricity way too much, but that he's also a loyal friend. That he's a hard worker—that all of them are. 

When his plate is empty and he's eyeing what's left in the pans you push them closer without saying anything, and prompt him to tell you about that time a plumbing line exploded and Kyle got soaked from tip to toe in disgusting gunk. He smelt like sewage water for weeks. 

Simon doesn't even realise how much he's talked until his throat starts feeling rougher than usual. You make it easy somehow. If he'd thought you would look down on him because of your own job he needn't have worried. You're not at all like what he imagines when he thinks of professors, none of the stuffy superiority complex he's used to weathering when people find out all he does all day is chafe his fingers on hard cement.  

Maybe you're just good at faking it, but he doubts it. The sparkle in your eyes when you listen to him so intently has to be real. 

You send him home with a warm thanks and dessert, and Simon feels something in his chest lurch when you peer up at him through your lashes in the doorway, smiling and sweet. Can't remember the last time he went out for dates. Can't remember having the time or energy for it. 

And like a dog who's learned a new trick Simon rings your bell the next day. Wasn't happy with how he left it, and wasn't that faucet leaking? He's got plenty of spare wood in his shed, don't you worry. What's that about the boiler making a weird noise? He'll take a look at it, might have something for the draft in the hallway too. 

Pay him? What are you talking about, he does stuff like this for fun. Don't sweat it, love. Just hand him that wrench. 

There are days when it's hard, of course. Simon is only human, and spending days and days on sizzling hard concrete would wring anyone dry. The project is coming along nicely, but at the height of summer there's plenty of times when even the promise of your smile isn't enough to keep him from falling asleep on his couch—often on an empty stomach. 

But during the weekends he rings your bell dutifully. Six o’clock becomes something sacred in his mind, sweet relief after praying on his knees for hours smoothing out cement. It gets to the point where he turns down Friday drinks with the guys more than once because he's got something to go home for now, his pretty little bird that's never once mentioned a boyfriend of any kind. 

“You really should let me pay you.” 

Simon gives you a look before pushing his large shoulders further into the cabinet under the bathroom sink. “Should be the one payin’ you. I know I'm doubling your grocery bill.” 

He eats more at your place than his own these days. It gives him incentive to rush through a shower, dress like something resembling a human, then wait at your doorstep to be let in. Wagging tail and everything. 

Your cheeks darken and you duck your head. “No, um... It makes me happy. To see you eat my cooking, I mean,” you confess a little shyly. “I feel like I'm the one getting everything out of this. I hope I'm not keeping you from—from spending time at home, or with your family.” 

“S’just me, love.” Simon pauses, pretends to inspect the pipes. “Less you don't want me coming ‘round anymore.” 

“No, no,” you say hastily. “No, I like—I like the company. Really.” Your voice softens. “And I'm not just saying that because I appreciate the help.” 

Simon exhales, shifts a little to accommodate the strain in his boxers, and holds his hand out for the screwdriver. 

[spicywhenspeaking]

If Im There: Chapter Five

read from part one

Noah x OFC Natalie

Warnings : none! Just family drama and Noah being the BEST BOYFRIEND!

Also! while Noah is based on a real person this is a work of fiction and I just made most of this up in my brain! Also I finished this with out my beta reader so it’s edited only by me! if you see a typo, no you didn’t.

🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶

“What are you doing here Dad?” I’m shocked to see him after all this time, it's been four years since he just left.

“Well Jelly, your mom called and told me about what's been going on and asked me to come and talk to you and your brother” he stands from the couch and moves closer to me at the front of the door.

“What exactly did mom tell you?” I ask, looking towards my mom who's staring at the floor.

“She told me that you and your brother have been fighting, that you didn't even spend the weekend here. You were with some boy? That doesn't sound like you at all Jelly Bean”

My mind races trying to decide what to address first.

“Kyle and I weren't fighting dad, he attacked me. Twice. Last time with his hands around my throat so tight I thought he was killing me. We’re siblings, yelling at each other should be normal, but him slapping me? him throwing me to the ground choking me out? That’s insane! And I wasn't spending the night with just some boy. Noah is my boyfriend, and he was there for me after Kyle attacked me, not that I feel the need to explain myself to you.” There is an unmasked anger in my voice.

“Why do you think you just get to show up after all this time and reprise your role? You left us, Dad, you have no right to stand here and question me.”

“Jelly-”

“And stop calling me that.” I bristle “It's Natalie, I'm not your little Jelly Bean anymore”

Kyle snickers under his breath and whispers “Yeah, I'm sure Noah made sure of that this weekend”

I balk at his crude remark. “You’re a pig, Kyle.” He is such an asshole.

“Noah didn't do anything to me this weekend aside from get me the hell away from you”

“This isn't about this Noah boy” my dad speaks up. “This is about the two of you getting along”

“I don't understand how I'm getting lumped into this.” I feel like I'm losing my mind.

“I'm in trouble because Kyle hit me? Choked me?”

“You're not in trouble sweetie” my mom finally says something “I called your dad because I thought he could help your brother.”

“How are you planning on helping him?”

They tell me that they've decided since there's only a few weeks left of the school Kyle will take his finals early and leave with our dad to work with him at his construction company for the summer. Dad hopes the physical labor will help with his aggression, and give him an outlet for his anger or something.

“You both turn 18 in a few weeks so it's good timing. He'll be 18 once his training is finished so it's all legit.” My dad reasons but mostly with himself because I genuinely don't care, seems like our parents are doing what they do best and sweeping things under the rug. Dad gets cheap labor for his job site and mom will go back on the night shift and pretend I don't need a mom.

“So when are you leaving?” I ask.

“We need a few days to work everything out with the school, but we plan to leave Thursday morning,” Dad informs me.

“What do you think about all of this?” I finally addressed Kyle.

He pauses and thinks for a minute. “ I’m fine with it, I feel like I have no control over my emotions. It's like one second I'm fine and the next I don't know what happened and I'm holding my sister to the ground. I feel sick about it.” he looks like my brother again. “I’ll go with Dad and work and I'll do the therapy once a week while I'm there.” He's looking at me and noticing the fading marks on my neck from last week. “It kills me that I hurt you sissy, I don't want to be this person.”

We sit in the living room and chat awkwardly for a few more minutes before I excuse myself.

“I really should go study for my finals.” I stand up and tell them. My dad approaches to hug me, I freeze but my hands return to wrap around him. “Okay, sweetie. I love you” he tells me and I turn to head up the stairs towards my room.

Seeing my dad for the first time in so long is shocking, but, if I'm honest with myself I'm almost numb to all the shit with my family lately. I just don't have enough space in me anymore for any of this.

Once I'm upstairs in my room I immediately text Noah everything.

Noah: what? the. fuck. 5:30

Noah: are you okay? that's a lot to happen on top of everything else. 5:30

Natalie: honestly. I don't know what to feel. 5:32

Natalie: he just shows up after all of this time, and we just become a happy family again? One family meeting and all is forgiven? And he's just taking Kyle? I guess it's probably best for both of us to be away from each other it's just…I don't know. 5:32

Natalie: He drops everything to come to take Kyle away, doesn't even mention the attacks. What is that? Ugh so fucking frustrating. 5:32

Natalie: Trying to think of pros…a summer with no Kyle, a birthday I don't have to share with Kyle, you could actually hang out at my house if he's not here. 5:33

Natalie: maybe it's not all bad. 5:34

Natalie: okay. Wow. I even ramble in text. 5:34

Noah: I think it's cute when you ramble, even in text. 5:36

Noah: I'm so sorry you're dealing with all of this Natty, I can't imagine what it feels like to have your dad just show back up again. Do you need anything? 5:37

Noah: Also, when's your birthday? Honestly pissed at myself for not already having this precious information filed away. 5:37

Natalie: thank you, Noah, I'm okay, I just want to study and blast music in my ears until all I can think about is world history and all the bones in the human body. And then I have to finish my art final project. 5:38

Natalie: my birthday is May 20! Taurus :) 5:39

Noah: ugh I love it when you talk nerdy. 5:41

Noah: OMG! That's so soon! Okay. Filed away and saved foreverrr, keep the day free because we are going out. 5:43

Natalie: deal ;D now I should really study, these finals are going to suuuuck. 5:45

Noah: Okay smarty, good luck studying, I'm trying to perfect this chord progression and then I will have created the best song ever XD. 5:47

Natalie: can't wait to hear it! <3 5:47

I place my phone on the charger and hit play on my CD player and the CD Noah got me started playing at a medium volume, filling my room with the sound of “The Comedown” by Bring Me The Horizon.

Thursday is here before I blink and just like that Kyle is packing and leaving with my dad. He awkwardly hugs me before leaving, which I halfway return. My mom goes back to the night shift the next day.

Noah and I hung out again that weekend. I'm mostly studying and he's writing music but it's perfect. I finally finished my art project, a painted portrait of a young brown-haired girl on her knees crying softly on the floor of a broken home. “Wow, Natty. This is amazing, it's so emotional” Noah says as he examines the artwork “You are so talented” he whispers to me.

We hang out from Saturday morning until almost midnight when he begrudgingly leaves but not after kissing me senseless on my bed. Waiting becomes less important when I feel his hands softly caressing my body, the way he squeezes my sides and holds me closer if a quiet mewl escapes my mouth. Soon, definitely, soon, I think to myself.

We spend the rest of the school year like that, hanging out at my house or Noah's, usually with Nick. They’ll write songs, I'll study or Nick and I will spend hours drawing weird things we make up. Life feels perfect for this time. I have an amazing boyfriend and friends.

Finals begin and end quickly, I pass with high marks and Noah celebrates my grades by gifting me a new Bring Me The Horizon shirt. “To add to the band shirt collection”

The day after school's out for summer I wake up to my phone buzzing, reaching over I answer it half asleep.

“Hello?” I mumble.

“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Nattyyy, happy birthday to you!” Noah's voice blares through my speakers and forces me further awake but with a large smile breaking across my face. “How's my girl feeling? Like an adult? Do you feel the sudden need to vote for something? Or permanently alter your skin?” Noah rapid fire questions at me, I’ve not known him to be a morning person but he's full of energy today.

I laugh softly, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. “Thank you Noah, beautiful rendition.” I laugh.

“Hmmmm…no sudden urge to vote but I might not be totally adverse to a small something tattooed, gotta try to keep up with my boyfriend, he's got a few already.” A few is maybe an understatement, when Noah’s been getting tattoos since he was like 16, apparently in his music scene a lot of guys are also tattoo artists so it was pretty easy for him to get them.

“Sounds like your boyfriend is pretty cool” He jokes.

“Oh he's the coolest, really hot too” I responded.

“Wow, you know i've got a pretty hot girlfriend, hopefully they don't run into each other, he sounds exactly like her type.” he laughs. “You know, I'm actually hoping she gets ready soon so I can go pick her up and take her to a birthday breakfast and keep her to myself all day. Do you think she'd be interested in something like that?” he asks me with a cheeky tone and I melt.

“I think she'd love that” My whole life at home can crumble around me, I don't care. I have Noah and that is enough. “I can be ready in 20 minutes” I say with a grin so wide it might split my face in two.

I start getting ready and I get a text from Nick.

Nick: Happy Birthday!

Image: It's a drawing of a lady knight warrior holding the hilt of a sword that is sticking out of the head of a massive red dragon. Its captioned “Lady Natalia Flameheart: the Dragon Slayer” 8:35

Natalie: WOW! Nick!!! This is AMAZING! Thank you so much :) I’m definitely printing this out. 8:36

I finished getting ready, throwing on some jean shorts and the BMTH shirt Noah gave me, leaving my hair down and going without makeup when I heard a knock at my door. I rush downstairs and open the door, immediately being engulfed in a big bare hug, Noah wraps his arms around me tight and spins us around.

“Happy Birthday Natty girl” he says smiling widely as he places me down and bends to give me a kiss. I pull him closer, deepening the kiss until he pulls away and rests his head against mine. “Wow, im happy to see you too baby” I laugh softly and reach to hug him tightly again.

Noah takes me to a diner for breakfast and tells the waiter it's my birthday so they add sprinkles and a candle to my stack of pancakes. He sings happy birthday again before I blow out my candle. I think this is the first birthday I’ve ever celebrated where I don’t have to share candles with Kyle, I kind of liked it. I loved being a twin for so much of my life but for the last few years Kyle and I just became so drastically different. I pull out my phone and decide to text him just a simple message.

Natalie: happy birthday Kyle. 9:30

Kyle: happy birthday sissy. 9:45

After breakfast Noah takes me to the sculpture garden downtown. We walked around for a few hours, spending half the time admiring the art and the other half making out in every tucked away corner we could find. Our next stop is the deli across the street from the coffee shop we had our first date at, we order sandwiches and grab chips and drinks but Noah mentions to the cashier that it's all to go.

“To go?” I question.

He just raises his eyebrows up and down and plasters a shiteating grin on his face.

With our lunch in hand we head back to the car and Noah drives us to the park and we walk to the bench where we shared our first kiss. “I thought this would be a nice spot for lunch” he confesses innocently.

“Noah Sebastian Davis, you are something else you know?” I say as I take the seat next to him on the bench, sitting as close to him as possible. He's not just something else, I think to myself, he's everything and I think I'm in love with him. Nope, I'm definitely in love with him. Before digging into lunch I lean towards him and kiss him tenderly, trying to push all of my appreciation and affection for all he's done for me today.

“Thank you for today, you made it really special” I say against his lips.

“You’re very welcome Natty, I’m just glad I got to spend the day celebrating my favorite person.” he says back returning a quick peck before we dig into our late lunch.We sit for a while longer before Noah drives me back home

“My mom is working late tonight, we already celebrated last night so..” I paused.

“Would you want to come in and watch a movie or something?” Noah nods and heads out of his car. We head up to my room and I bring out my laptop, placing it at the foot of the bed and opening netflix. I find a random action movie and hit play. I honestly have no interest in watching a movie, only getting Noah in my bed. Sitting with his arm around me I give little attention to the computer screen in front of me, instead I turn to nuzzle into Noah's neck and leave small kisses along the columns of his throat.

“You’re the one that chose this movie Natty, you're not even watching” he chuckles.

“Are you complaining?” I ask as I lick a small stripe up to nibble on his ear and I hear his breath catch.

“No, no complaints from me” he says, voice tightening.

He rotates his head to capture my mouth in a searing kiss, quickly adding tongue and moving his hands down to grip my waist. Movie forgotten we glide down the bed in a close embrace, my hands are tangled in his hair as he strokes up and down my sides. I pull away for a second, long enough to rip my shirt off quickly.

“Natalie, what are you-” he starts as his eyes drag down to my chest.

“Noah, I'm ready. Please” I whine.”Touch me”

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Next chapter here!

YESSS NEXT PART NATTY’S V CARD IS GETTING DESTROYED MUAHAHAHA

thank you so much to everyone who has been reading and enjoying the story!!! xoxoxoxo

Taglist: @lma1986 @notingridslurkaccount

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

This Is The End (Of What Used To Be)

Chapter Seven of Sweet Home Alabama

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x OC (Linley Mitchell/Floyd), Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x OC (Linley Mitchell/Floyd)

Description: The morning after your night out on the town is anything but happy. You can't believe you made the decisions you did last night. Maybe those rounds of shots were a bad idea? But for better or worse you're making even worse decisions, picking fights and hurting the one person you've never wanted to hurt - not again. You get what you want. So why does it feel like you don't want this - not anymore?

Themes: angst, love, attraction

Warnings: arguments, anger, cheating, aftermath of cheating

Word Count: 2990

A/N: The last chapter was titled The Road To Hell Is Paved With Good Decisions for a reason, y'all! This chapter picks up right where the last one left off (or well, I should say the morning after it left off). Jake and Linley are not in a good place at the end of this chapter, not at all.

AO3: Cross-posted here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted here!

My Masterlist

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Everything hurts when you wake up. It feels like an entire New York construction site has set up shop inside your skull, complete with jackhammers, big machines, and yelling and beeping. But the bed is soft under you, and you’re warm, and the arms around you feel too good for words.

Wait…

The arms around you?! You slide carefully out from between the sheets, shivering at the goosebumps rising on your bare skin. It’s more than just the pain of a hangover in your body, then. You’re sore, the specific kind of sore that you’ve really only felt after a night of passion, and when you look back into bed, it’s to see Jake lying on his stomach fast asleep while facing you. It hurts seeing him lying there because it’s everything you’ve wanted for seven long, lonely years. 

The longer you’re awake, the more you remember about the night before. You remember every single thing you said - to him and about him. You remember Jake picking you up like you weighed nothing and carting you out to the parking lot when you’d been nearly blind with rage and drunk. You remember the kisses, too. You bring your shaking hand up to your lips because even now, you can still feel them. After that first kiss, it was like you were consumed by lightning. Every part of you ached for Jake. He’d kissed you in that parking lot like you were the air he needed to breathe, kissed you until you wanted nothing more than to feel his touch again. 

The two of you had stumbled into his car and driven home with barely withheld need coursing through you. As you stumbled into the house, avoiding Bryant’s dog bed in the corner of the living room, it felt like you were finally alive. When he finally had you in his bed, it was like having sex with no other man. You can still feel the ghosts of his touch on your skin. He’d stripped your clothes off tenderly, replacing them with his kiss, his touch. It was heated, frantic, every inch of your skin singing under his touch. 

You’d say it was hate fucking, but there is too much history between you and Jake Seresin. It had felt like nothing you’ve ever felt before, not even with Bradley, and that scares you. You came to Alabama for one reason, only one. To get a divorce - not get horribly drunk and end up in the same situation you were in before you left all of those years ago. This situation also means that you just cheated on Bradley. God, Bradley. What’s he going to think? How can you tell him? Carole’s already on a warpath about you and the wedding. If you tell him you cheated, it’ll break his heart. 

Oh, god!

 If Carole finds out, he’ll be shipped off to California to marry one of his exes quicker than you can apologize, and you'll be seeing interviews where she accuses you of breaking her baby boy's heart. You can’t hope to have him forgive you. Not when you know his thoughts on relationships and on cheaters. Not when you know how much he’s struggled to advance in his career. The news of your infidelity would completely destroy your relationship as well as any political aspirations he has.

Jake grunts just a little in his sleep, lips smacking as he turns to the other side, jolting you out of your musings. As the bed jostles slightly, you can see the bruise purpling on his golden skin from where you’d chucked the pool ball the night before. Seeing Jake like this makes worry swirl even tighter in your gut. How are you going to face this? Something like practicality sinks in despite your worry as you gather your scattered clothing. You’re probably still a little drunk as you bend to pick up your underwear, your head aching as you pull the garments on over passion marked skin. You’re just fighting with one of your high-heeled shoes when the rustling of sheets and a sleep rough voice tell you that Jake is awake.

“Hey, darlin’.” He sounds so good, but you know the minute you turn around, you’ll have to break his heart all over again. “Good Mornin’.”

You pause for several long moments, standing in Jake’s bedroom, the scent of him surrounding you while trying to think of what you can say.

“C’mon Lin, can you look at me, sweetheart?” God, he sounds so happy and fond. Would he sound like this if it were anyone else in his bed at the moment? How much longer can he sound like this? Especially when you know what you have to do. Does it make you cruel to try to push for a divorce now? When Jake is the first time being intimate has brought a smile to your face in years? When Jake is the one person you’ve never had to hide around? You turn around and try to spread the facsimile of a smile on your face. Because Jake knows you, he can easily see your feelings in your face. That easy smile drops, and worry takes its place.

“Hey, sweetheart?” He scrambles out of the sheets, tugging worn gray sweatpants on before taking your hands in his. “What’s going on in that head of yours? Is it what we said to each other last night?”

Why is it that he just can’t shut up? He keeps acting sweet and pretending like you’re someone important to him when both you and he know you’re not - not anymore. Each selfless word, each gesture, god, even the way he pulls you into his chest, sends you spiraling. You can do this. It feels like you’re living a lie, a much bigger one than your life in New York, even. It’s always only been Jake who has been able to strip you bare like this. Only ever Jake. If you didn’t lose your best friend all those years ago, you’re definitely going to lose him now.

Your throat is bone dry as you pull away from his secure embrace. Your eyes burn with unshed tears and your voice is gravelly as you say, “I can’t do this, Jake.”

“Do what, honey? Tell me what you’re thinking. You don’t have to do that right now, Sugar. Take all the time you need.” Damn him! 

God, you’d give anything for angry Jake right now. There’s a reason why you left Pigeon Creek the first time in the dead of night. You’ve never been able to handle his pain.

You gather all the hatred you’ve ever felt for anyone and hold it in front of your battered, aching heart and spit out words you never would have said before, and don’t mean in the slightest.

“I can’t do this anymore, Jake.” It’s obvious he doesn’t understand, so you twist the knife a little bit deeper, hoping he doesn’t see how you’re bleeding a little too. “Last night was a mistake.”

Confusion graces his face as you continue. “A cheap little hate fuck. As if I could ever want to be with you again. God, you’d think I’d never learn. Jake, there is no way I could ever want to be yours again. I mean, come on. Even a year was too long last time.” 

Pain rises in those green eyes you love - no you loved, because you love Bradley - so much before his expression schools into blankness. His voice is gravelly and quiet, so quiet that it makes you want to sob just hearing it. “So what did you want, sweetheart?” 

“You came on to me last night.” His voice turns into a snarl, a growl. “You just want your happy little rich life, the one Bradshaw can give you. Forget having something real with someone who loves you.”

That’s when a sob breaks through from the iron hold you have on your tears. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, Jake. I didn’t mean to hurt anybody.” His chuckle is far from joyful or happy. He stomps into the living room and comes back with the divorce papers nearly crumpled in his fist. He signs the papers with enough force to nearly rip through the paper three excruciating times and shoves them your way.

“You got what you wanted, Linley. Now get the fuck out of my house before I call Mickey to drag you out.” By the time you’re sitting in the front seat of your car, not that you know how it got to Jake’s house, there are tears on your cheeks. It shouldn’t hurt this much to get what you want. It shouldn’t. It can’t. But it does. 

It feels like you're reeling as you mechanically drive to your dad's, shower, and get ready for the day. Thankfully, your dad’s not home. There is a note on the fridge, though, proudly stating, “Went to prep for the reenactment in Greenville, Lin! Love you, Dad.” The shower helps, as all showers do, and you feel positively human as you walk into Pigeon Creek's one tiny post office and mail the divorce papers away. But with that done, you feel lost. Adrift and caught between the person you were, lonely, heartbroken, and alone, and the woman you’d made yourself into in New York. For Jake, you’d been willing to give up everything, your hopes, your dreams, everything to make a new dream with him. Without that dream, it had felt like nothing else mattered. Not over a decade of friendship or the love you felt for Jake. On a whim, you drive out of town.  With the top down and the wind blasting your tears away, you feel a little more bit like yourself. 

It rained overnight, you note dimly, the world rain-drenched and brand new as it whips past your windows in a patchworked blur of gold, green, and bronze. Unconsciously, you must drive on the roads you’ve been driving since your dad taught you how to drive, and you end up looping around town and in front of the one place you never expected to go back to, especially after how you acted the night before.

In contrast to when the Hard Deck is filled to the gills, this time when you walk through the swinging doors, the scent of lemon wood polish fills your nostrils, and it’s quiet - blessedly tranquil, in fact. The silence blankets your thoughts, muffling the frantic, flurried thoughts until all you can hear is the clack of your heels against the golden, aged wood. Unsurprisingly, Penny’s at the counter. Seeing the glare she levels in your direction doesn't surprise you at all.

“You know, I knew you were trouble the minute I saw you walk through those doors, Linley.” You nod dumbly, sitting on the stool in front of her. “My son’s put up with a lot for you and from you. Because he loves you. When you left, we all thought it was just because you were heartbroken and didn’t know how to tell him how badly you were hurting. We put up with the turmoil you inflicted on him for seven years. And then you pull this nonsense?”

A tear drips down your cheek at her words. Because it’s true. “You never loved my son at all, did you? What was it then, all those years ago? A case of possessive ego? A chance to prove that the nerdy little thing sketching all the time could bag the quarterback?” That can’t be why you did what you did. Right?”

“What do you have to say for breaking my son’s heart like you have?”

What can you say? 

“Penny, I did love him. I think a part of me always will.” She snorts, and that’s when you officially give up on salvaging the relationships you’ve broken in Pigeon Creek. But you have to try. Penny’s the closest thing to a mom you’ve ever had. Without her, you wouldn’t know anything about being a woman. “I think a part of me will always love him, Penny. I think I’ve loved Jake since before I knew what love was. But I have to grow up. I’m too old to think that true love conquers all. And I found someone who loves me. He loves the person who followed her dreams and succeeded despite her struggles. We both know Jake’s never been able to do that.”

“Then why are you still here, Honey?” You shrug, the motions feeling like you’re moving something that could shatter at the easiest provocation. 

“I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye to Dad, could I?” It’s your best answer, even as she bustles out from behind the word with a skeptical glance in your direction. You're left alone, with just your frenzied thoughts and your battered heart.

"What're you doing here?" Amelia's arrival breaks the tense silence as she smacks one of her textbooks onto the counter and pulls a soda from the fridge.

"Didn't you get what you wanted anyway?" She can't hide her disgust for you as she opens the can and takes a long sip. "I mean, come on. You broke my brother's heart again and then stomped all over it."

"If you weren't smart enough to realize that you've had Jake since before I was born, I guess seven years hitting it big in New York didn't teach you a single thing."

She gestures to the now empty can in front of you. "The soda's 3 dollars and 50 cents. We take cash if you forgot. Only my family gets free drinks at the Hard Deck. You're not family anymore. Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

When Amelia has made it absolutely clear exactly how much she hates you, what else can you do? You leave the bar after leaving a five-dollar bill on the counter. Talking to Penny was supposed to make you feel a little more settled in your skin. Instead, you feel like a tornado has blown through your life. Driving in circles inevitably leads you to the same place that you left earlier in the morning. The door is locked, and you’d left the spare on Jake’s dresser after the fight as you walked out of the door. Jake’s truck isn’t in the driveway, and the entire property sits in a dappled green haze. It feels like there is still something dragging you towards Jake, and it’s not just the bruises he’s left on your skin. A part of you isn’t ready to let this part of your life end without some closure.

You pad around the house and make your way down to the dock. The seaplane is still out there, and that’s where you see Bryant sleeping under the broad wing. He lifts his head the minute he sees you and lopes forward, happily slobbering over your upturned palms. You can’t help the soft kiss you press into the silken fur as he rests his whole head in your lap. It’s heavy and warm, and in that instance, a spike of longing impales your heart for the puppy you bottle-fed and raised sitting on this very dock. Your Bear loved you with all his heart, and even now, you wish you could have taken him to New York. But he would have been miserable in your shoebox apartment, going from a king in the countryside to a pauper overnight. So you’d left him with Jake. And as it turns out, you will never see him again. At least you know Jake loved him until the very end.

When a whistle rends the air, jolting Bryant into action, you’re not surprised at all to find tears on your cheeks. Of course, Jake strides down the well-worn planks with a bone in one hand. You can faintly hear him mutter, “What’s she doing here?” as he sets the bone down on the planks. “I thought you’d be long gone by now.

“I put the money back, Jake.” There’s still anger in his eyes as he looks over your face. His jaw is tight, like his teeth are clenched. 

“That saves me from a lot of bounced checks. But that still doesn’t explain why you’re here. I signed your papers and everything. So you could go after your dream in New York. Now I’m going after mine.” Every word rings of finality.

“You’re leaving Pigeon Creek?” It hurts hearing Jake say that, you can’t quite figure out why it hurts as much as it does.

“All of the things you did to the house will actually help its resale value.” His chuckle is sad and soft. “I’ve been spendin' a lot of my time up around Tuscaloosa, so…”

“Oh.” There’s a lump in your throat that you have to swallow around. “I came to thank you, Jake. And to tell you again that I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know, darling. It was the only way to get what you wanted.” If he knew, why did he let you hurt him like you did this morning? “You’ve always been single-minded when you were trying to get what you wanted. The girl I knew never used to leave people behind. She’d take them with her if they truly mattered to her.”

Hearing Jake’s words makes all of your accomplishments over the past years seem pale in comparison. “The girl you knew, she wasn’t living life at all.” The words nearly get stuck in your throat as you say them.

“Better get on with living then.” He turns to Bryant, ushering the puppy into the plane. It makes you smile, just a little, to see how Jake has to lift him into the plane, drool-covered, gnawed-on bone and all. It feels like the end. Now, if only you knew why your heart hurts when you have something, no someone, just as wonderful, waiting for you in New York.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

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[faithfulcat111]

So I'm working on a bit of a story that involves the California crew and their road trip, mainly by routing out the routes they would have taken. Putting under read more cause I'm a sucker for maps and highway and road design and I will likely ramble quite a bit.

TLDR: Stop writing them as passing through Kansas City. Makes no sense to do so, I actually want to cry everytime.

To give you a basis of how I'm routing this, I'm using Ventura, California as the substitute for Lenora Hills (considering Murphy's comment about being in Ventura and the Byers being nearby). I'm using Gas City, Indiana as the substitute for Hawkins (after intense research mainly done by others, that area seems to be the best guess for where Hawkins would be). My credentials for this discussion: I've actually driven most of the route I'll talk about myself. I lived in Kern County (just north of Ventura County) for a long time and still have family there and I've driven from Kern County all the way to somewhere in Illinois using i-40 and I-44 (I switched to i-64 at that point, which is not gonna be part of today's discussion). I also have driven i-70 mostly from St Louis to Denver (except for a gap between about Columbia, Missouri and Kansas City).

So, I got lots of modern experience with this route. Most of it can be taken across three interstates: i-40, i-44, and i-70. I was able to find historical road maps for all the states that these interstates go through (except New Mexico, but i-40 enters and leaves in the same spot as now so I'm running with it) from anywhere between 1981 to 1985. All three of these interstates were completed by 1986, at least along the route that would have been taken.

The biggest issue would have been getting from Ventura to i-40 as the route one would use now was still under construction, but not horrid. Some people may note that I picked i-44, which takes you right through some toll turnpikes. In the stories where they would have gone straight to Hawkins, this is a faster route than detouring around the turnpikes, so I am stubbornly sticking with this route. Plus the route that Google Maps offers to go around the toll route is so much side roads and really difficult to trace out on the road maps, so I think that they would have stuck with the interstates.

Now, you may have noticed that I mentioned that this would be the route that they would have taken to get straight to Hawkins. Things may be different considering the detours to Salt Lake City (SLC) and the middle of nowhere Nevada. So, let's explore that route. Instead of getting on i-40 in Barstow, CA, the California Crew would have gotten on i-15. Or so I am assuming. This is where things start to get tricky because it is the first highway we've looked at that wasn't completed in all the states traveled through by the end of the 70s. Utah only released road maps in 1983 and 1986, and if you check, i-15 was not completed in Utah until 1990. Luckily, that part was north of SLC, but part of the route they would have taken on i-15 was still under construction in 1983 but completed in the 1986 map. I've tried to stick to earlier maps as I can't guarantee when these maps would have come out during the year (some specify August but not Utah), so we are rolling with it could have been done by then.

Next is where they were holding El. Fun fact, the 1985 Nevada road map has the area around the coordinates highlighted as a 'Danger Area' with a big label that says 'Nuclear Testing Site'. As such, it is kinda impossible to gage the best route, considering it is literally impossible by a regular road. Looking at the road maps, I would guess they would take i-15 back south and then get onto HWY 95 in Las Vegas. We don't know where exactly the Surfer Boy location is in Nevada that they have the bath scene. I picked Indian Springs for no particular reason but to give myself a starting location near where they would have rescued her. Modernly, you could just get back to i-15 and take that to i-70 (which I mentioned on my straight-through route), which goes all the way to Indiana. But, i-70 may be completed in many parts, but those who are super into the highway system like I am know it was the full completion of it in 1992 that led to the declaration that the original Interstate system was complete (even though not really). That is because i-70 in Utah and Colorado was not complete in 1986. It took another five to six years, so that route would have been impossible. You could take some side routes around the missing sections, but there was so much construction along the route that is even mentioned in the Colorado road map for 1986 as causing major delays. Honestly, their best bet would have been to head south on HWY 95 to i-40 and just take the original route I mentioned. Only would take an additional hour than going on i-70 the whole way does now.

Also, I wanna mentioned, that route taking i-70 all the way across would have been a toll road too in part of Kansas, so they would be paying tolls either way. I really am struggling to find out how much tolls were in the 80s, so I can't help there if anyone is curious. If anyone has that info, feel free to send me the source.

[violetsystems]

#personal

It is most certainly cold outside. The shower is very hot. I don't have any plans for the holidays until a late Christmas next week. It feels like I kicked off the final piece of an iceberg socially sometimes. That can feel good looking back at your past and watching it float off into the distance. The relevance of it has passed. And yet I don't necessarily feel irrelevant at all. Just adrift. Been focused on getting things together around my apartment. This seems like for years now. But I'm sure there's things I've been cleaning up emotionally over time. I'm frustrated with the job process just as I'm frustrated with the creative pursuit. It doesn't really feel I matter all that much other than keeping the peace. And it's something I've grown to focus more on lately than confronting the problems out there I didn't create. I've lived where I live now for over a decade. I vibe with what I vibe with and try to ignore what I don't. Organically over time, I think the right pieces of the puzzle have come together. Or at least the right catalysts of people to make it seem like where I'm currently at in life is the most worthwhile. I would love to incur more income. The most obvious way I thought to do this was to apply for jobs; a relentless process which leaves you wondering if you are worth anything at all. Everybody needs to make money at some point to survive. I think I've been brainstorming about this in varying degrees over the last couple of years. But the most frustrating part is wondering if you are either doing too much or not enough in a situation where the goal posts keep changing. I have rely on this unspoken vibe with everything. And there are no absolutes really other than winter is long and spring comes eventually. Spending Christmas alone is kind of grueling. I used to hang out in Japan and Korea years ago alone around this time. So as far as getting away from it all I don't know really what complaining about. Damaging your life so badly that you've disconnected from everything seems a little extreme. But if the past wasn't particularly helpful or constructive I'd rather it stay buried. It isn't like anything has changed much on here other than the tone of what I keep writing about. That seems enough for me in terms of visibility at this point. Going live to hang out in an empty chat room doesn't seem like the right way to go.

It's not that I really care or have an opinion about it. I'm happy that such a dead website continues to stay relevant in strange new ways. But thankfully this website is not part of a publicly tradable shit show so maybe I worry less about the direction. Again everyone has to make money to pay to the bills. Writing here doesn't do that. But then again, writing here is a different story. A little insight to those who still want to peer into the empty head of somebody who just goes apeshit with the reblog button on an array of weird shit. I don't know if I really use this site that way much anymore. I simply am hanging out flipping through a magazine of sorts with my friends. Every time I try to go visible people start asking the wrong sort of questions. So lurking down here is like hanging out in the backroom of some party. Maybe a little like getting locked in the freezer at a corporate catered political gala. I can't seem to find a way to bust this door open. I keep making it my own way and stay positive. But sometimes it gets to me how subconsciously mean it all is. It makes me angry less when I think about it these days. So nothing really changes other than my softening over time to the bitterness I feel about where it all went wrong. It feels like growing up in America is something you never were meant to escape. And however it worked out, I live in a city with a roof over my head and decent water pressure. I genuinely hope the holidays are restful for people. But for myself I find them enormously exhausting if I don't focus on something. And being barricaded in alone like this sometimes has you worrying about the wrong stuff. Which sends me into loops just thinking about. That I worry about the same things every normal American does with a twenty two year resume and a college degree. Less about debt than I ever did. But my goals to stay out of it are still the same. Sure, people could just buy my discography for twenty dollars and be done with it. But I've never really been able to garner enough attention to make a living doing any of that. Neither do I really think it's possible. Which is why working in a sushi restaurant in the neighborhood in the very worst case scenario doesn't seem too horrible of an option. But here I am on Christmas Eve thinking about my options and feeling like I have none. I'd be worried more if I hadn't planned for absolute hell. But that is what this all has been for me. Ho, Ho, Ho. I hope I slayed the process either way.

By the third paragraph, you can tell I can only think about how sore my muscles are from shoveling. That isn't real work. But the transactional value around here is still the same. Which is to say that there are some things out there more valuable than money and how much you hoard of it. I can't say I'm anywhere close to a billionaire. But the dirty tricks I've seen makes me wonder just how dirty you have to be to make that much at the expense of your fellow earth people. Sometimes I think it's best to salvage your dignity and move forward than to humor an old joke with no real punchline. If I were to be really honest I have no clue what to do except move forward. Even when I really don't feel like it. It does frustrate me that I often just feel like I'm not even there. Or worse. People never really liked me to begin with and just humored me. That's what it feels like to get ghosted that hard. I also don't think the entire world is like that. I just think growing up America forced a lot of people together under false pretenses. Dumb music scenes over run with hidden agendas. Things that seemed so liberated but were really just little boxes and clubs for people to isolate themselves in. I don't think it stops. It just morphs into what we see now with people arguing the world on little cage matches like twitter and whatever. I prefer to keep it low key after all has been said and done. And I think I've grown to communicate that I understand the way it goes without having to be told. So much so that I don't really have any fear of missing out. I do have a fear of inviting somebody over for a lukewarm shower. And this I would never do unless it was you. But for the record, how I finessed that shower head is exactly how I approach difficult situations. With patience and timing. Sure it probably took ten years. I hope the career thing doesn't take that long. But I'll get through as long as I don't compare my journey to the rest of what's going on out there. Which is a perfect way to wrap this up for the rest of you. Whatever goes on at surface level doesn't really change the depths to which people like me have sunk. It's literal SpongeBob leagues I exist in down here. I'd have something catchier to say if I actually watched the show. Maybe that's what they'll end up paying me for. That and being a trophy husband. <3 Tim

[laytonsartblog]

The Best of Worst Days

Economic Crisis AU

Ch. 1, Ch. 2

Warning: this content has violence, poverty, guns, starvation, hypothermia, dysfunctional family themes, and dystopian themes. Read when comfortable and in a safe spot. Care for yourself.

--

Patton has a schedule he dedicates his life to.

First, to get up at five.

Then take a shower, standing in a bucket.

Why a bucket? To catch the dirty water.

After his shower, Patton will put that murky liquid into a filter to drain out all the gunk and make him and his son breakfast while he's waiting. Once he's finished with all of that, he takes the filtered water and pours it into empty water bottles and then throws them into his tiny icebox.

Proceeding is obviously to wake up his adorable little four-year-old Virgil and eat with him until it's time to go at six-thirty, and walk Virgil to his pre-k daycare with the rest of breakfast and the fresh water bottle as lunch.

From that point on it's just to get to his work at the construction site by seven and work until two pm, and pick Virgil up to bring home.

They play and eat and maybe visit the park for two hours, then Patton has to get to his other job down the block at a small crafts store by five, which is where he'll be until midnight, then walk all the way back home and fall flat on his face to sleep on the floor.

Simple, right?

Yes, well, there's this thing called sleep depriviation and insomnia that gets in the way.

When Patton wakes up as he does every day, his tired eyes make their way to the clock before bulging out of his head. It's six am.

He scrambled to get Virgil up and about. "Virgil!" Patton whispered as he gently shook his son's shoulders. "Virgil, Papa's running late for work, you need to make your own sandwich while I get ready, okay?"

Virgil merely whined and curled in closer to his thin blanket.

"Pleeeeeease?" Patton pleaded. "I know it's a bit sudden and I usually let you sleep in more, but Papa can't do everything at once, okay?"

Virgil finally sat up and groaned, wiping his eyes. "S'okay, Papa. I'll help."

Patton smiled softly as Virgil clumsily went about to his little cubby to grab a clean shirt and shorts to change into, before remembering the time and running off to change too.

Patton came out of the bathroom with his expendable construction t shirt and jeans and stared at the time; six-thirty.

"Come on, Virgil," Patton urged gently as he picked his boy up. "We're gonna need to skip breakfast today, but I'll leave you some money to get something at the cafeteria, okay?"

Virgil nodded sleepily against Patton's chest. "Okay, Papa..."

Patton sighed contentedly as he continued to hold Virgil on the rest of the walk to the daycare before placing him gently down in front of the door. He fished in his pockets for change.

"Don't worry, honey, I'll have something here somewhere..." Patton trailed off as he continued to search through his pockets for maybe even a dime, but, no, there was nothing. Patton gave up his search with a sigh. "Well, kiddo, I- I think you'll need to ask for some of your friend's extra snacks, or maybe one of the teachers to get you something because Papa doesn't- Papa doesn't have the money."

Virgil looked like his rubber duck had just been melted and Patton almost teared up at the sight. He hated having to starve his own son because he couldn't get the money.

Virgil ran up and hugged Patton's skinny legs. "Is okay, Papa, 'm okay, Papa go job," he mumbled into the cloth of Patton's jeans. "I go play now." He ran off like a wolf into the night into the daycare, rushing to play with the fun trains. A complete switch.

Patton would have broke down then if it weren't for the fact he was on the clock.

He ran to the site he was supposed to be working on, just two or three miles away. When he got there, however, his manager stood with a tapping shoe and folded arms.

"Look who finally showed up!" she snarked, red luxerious lipstick painted bright to announciate every twisted syllable.

Patton's shoulders went sky high to hide his paler-than-average face. "I-I am so sorry, ma'am," he apologized. "I didn't mean to- my son, I had to drop him off to daycare, and he was being fussy, so-"

Patton didn't like to lie, but it was the only way for him to keep the job. If she found out it was because he woke up late? A big fat 'FIRED' notice would appear in his p.o. box.

The woman sighed. Her foot stopped tapping, but her arms stayed crossed. "Listen..." she started. "You seem to work hard and you've got a kid to take care of. I get it. Times like these in this stupid country can be tough."

Patton felt some hope glimmer in his chest. Perhaps just a warning?

"But that doesn't exclude the fact you've been late four times this month, fainted twice from exhaustion, and spread the cough to my workers last winter."

Patton's heart sank back to where it was before.

"That's why... I need to let you go. It's hard work and I cannot have tardiness and exhaustion running my construction equipment."

And that's when Patton's heart went all the way down to Hell.

"You're... I'm... I'm fired?" Patton gasped out, almost as if he couldn't believe it; or rather, didn't want to.

His manager nodded. "I'm so sorry, Patton, you seem like a fine worker. You're just not cut out for working early hours on tough plaster with a kid to take care of and a whole load of sleep problems."

Patton's hands felt numb but slimy. He was sweating but he couldn't even tell if it was hot. All he felt was cold; cold dread, cold guilt, cold everything.

"I-I'm sorry, maybe I could- maybe you could move me down to textile ordering management?" Patton tried not to let that determined little speck of hope reach too high in his voice; it still strained of heartbreak either way.

Her bright red lips frowned and her mascara-covered eyes closed. "I'm sorry, Patton, but those spots are all full. If you wanted to really work there, you could be the mission boy, but that's significantly lesser pay, and may conflict with the schedule you're on."

Patton sighed, his hope and heart finally settling in a dark chasm in his chest. "Thank you for at least concerning it, ma'am, I'll- I'll be on my way, now."

With a racking breath and wobbly knees, Patton turned away and walked back home. Once through the door, he sat on the small mattress Virgil used and began to sob.

"I can't feed my child, I lost my job, and bills are coming up! What the hell am I to do?" Patton yelled as he bawled into his hands.

Every part of him screamed and ached. He needed sleep, he needed rest, he needed something to eat, he needed his child to hold dear, he just needed; but he can never have what he wants, especially like the sad sack of debt and depression he was.

Patton couldn't exactly tell how long he had cried for, but the next time he looked up at the clock, it was eight am. He figured that the library was open, so he might as well head over there for a free read to calm down.

That, and free wifi and computer access.

Patton tried to make himself not look like the outside rendition of how he was feeling on the inside as he walked along the craggy sidewalks to the nearby city library. His attempts to cover up the way his hair sagged and his eyes pulsed didn't exactly prove fruitful as people walked by in sympathy or disgust. Their reactions only made Patton's heart clench more.

After he finished his three mile walk, he practically ghosted through the library doors; he looked as much, anyway, with his pale face and sunken eyes.

The librarian from across the room lowered his sunglasses, intrigued and a little suspicious.

The depression hit almost everyone, yes, but that didn't mean that hobos possibly addicted to meth were a person Remy was begging to listen to on a Monday morning in a damn library. Remy was not awake enough to tell the raggedy middle aged patron this wasn't the back alley to sneak some crack in before making his way back on the streets to ask for a job, so Remy just adjusted his sunglasses and resumed looking up sugar daddies on his phone.

Patton ignored the stares from the young librarian and instead went to the computer, taking out his library card and typing out the number and sending it in. After waiting for what seemed like hours, the internet finally decided to load the computer up and allow Patton to search for more loan applications and job openings.

However, he came up empty handed.

The jobs either weren't paying enough, required a higher degree than a high school diploma, or were simply too far away. The loans? They would cause more debt; Patton was better off without more false promises.

There was a website Patton was interested in, though, that he found while scrolling through the Google search "friend finding": GetAlong.

GetAlong, apparently, was a free penpal website people could use do the same as texting without having to pay for it. Except, there's a twist; the people you meet are strangers. They could be from across the country, across the planet, your next-door neighbor, anyone who signs up with the site is eligible for you to meet. You could message eachother, send pictures, videos, links, live feeds, and sticker-like emoji; all within the website.

The only consolation is for it to be anonymous. The only information you can put is your first name, your age, your gender, and maybe some things you're interested in. The rest is to fill in for yourself after you meet them.

The reason Patton was so interested is because he needed someone to talk to. Sure, he had Virgil to play with on bad days, and he had his coworker Roman from the crafts store he still worked at, but other than that? No family, no friends, and no help.

Perhaps this website could at least bring him some happiness.

So Patton, with a lot more time on his hands and feeling a lot more distraught than normal, signed up.

Patton Gentile, 32, trans-male. I like knitting, snuggling up in the winter, and taking care of my son. Hope to give you a happy hello soon!

Patton stared back at the words on the screwn with his fingers hovering over the keyboard, motionless.

Was this really all I needed to say? he thought. Did I need to say more, or less?

He decided to get it over with and hit send, leaving his mark on the world.

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

Taglist:

@amazable01 @vara-albion

[daz-ing]

You Don't Need an SEO Agency to Help You With Your Website, Right?

For today's clients, it's not as easy as advertising and promoting, you want a high-level web site to help you get the most exposure. The site seems to be part of this point, but if it does not work as expected when you find it, it is not worth it. If you wrote bad content in bad English and pointed to an English-speaking client base, it failed in the first hurdle. Also, if there is content on your site after years of history, how do you expect your customers to know that you are evolving and developing as a business? SEO can get and analyze your site so you can update it with all the content written for you. Needless to say, it is completely out of date on your site, the appearance and construction of a healthy product, in general, is a perfect course of action.

We do not claim that the entire reconstruction of a site will have a low price, at least in case it works well. If you are working, I advise you not to be deceived by buying a site for a hundred dollars of advertising, because it is likely to cost you much more than you expected in low income. An effective SEO agency will provide you with a fully integrated company that will analyze the style and structure of your website, online marketing and a fully interactive and secure website at the end of the process. This is what you want if you want to do business online.

Do not be fooled by an SEO agency that will provide you with an online "off-the-box" strategy to adapt to your personal online requirements. This is not the best search engine optimizer at its best, and although it will end with something, in conclusion, it may not be all you really need. The SEO agency should work with you and build a relationship for a while to get to know your needs and build around you. As a person in the company, you will not be looking for someone to be available in your workplace for a day, plus having power the next day, so do not expect someone to work according to your SEO requirements. For the best-optimized site or the web-based option for your company may take some time, you should be patient if necessary to do so correctly.

The information on the planet we live in now is knowledge and they say that experience is power and that what you get through the SEO is to take advantage of your experience and knowledge. Find someone who has created some time and has a profile that you can review. Do not make your own decision on your site, it is within the company to create skilled and impressive sites to create businesses so that your private company really more. Ask questions and ask things to describe if you do not understand them. The world of SEO Agency is really very skilled and the terms will be used by them and the vocabulary that you will not understand, so you should ask for clarification.

[myheartisbro-ken]

Hi! 💙 I hope your are doing well. Congrats on the article. The reading will probably be okay. Are you a fast or slow reader? I read rather slowly, especially if I'm enjoying what I'm reading. It sticks with me better that way, but it takes me longer to do things. 😅 My semester ends next week, then have finals period. l'm taking Summer courses tho to get ahead. I get what you mean. I don't party, but around TH and F there's a certain restlessness about some of the students to drink/part. (Pt 1)

Ugh, I hate group work. 😐 Best of luck to you. Maybe your for a decent group. Anyway, I prefer morning courses. I get up at an obnoxiously early time to attend though. I’m fine with it though because it lets me take my courses in a block with out breaks, so once I’m done, I’ll be done for the day. 😥 Probably an unpopular schedule though. Oh, so My Immortal can actually be constructive to writers. That makes sense. It’s what a writer shouldn’t ever do. About JK, I think it’s an attempt (pt 2)(pt 3) Lowkey don’t recall my train of thought..Anyway, wow, I definitely agree with your statements about Lena knowing Kara’s dual identity. Snapper knowing wouldn’t help anything, since he’s too minor a character to do anything useful with information. Lena knowing would create more depth, tension, plot possibilities etc., which is why’d it would be a shame for her to be left in the dark. Also, I feel her not knowing (or at least theorizing Kara’s supergirl) is ooc. I suppose the writers– –haven’t had an issue with that based on what they’ve done to Alex. :-/ Hmph. I’m still so annoyed about that. Partially, because I’m a SuperCorp shipper, but mainly because it’s an insult to Alex’s personality to force her to advocate on Mon El’s behalf. Who was your favorite character from S1, btw? I’d probably go with Kara, but for S2 it’s definitely Lena. Anyway, yes Lena looks so amazing in the trailer! Heh, I intended it to be a soft FMK…I was going to make it all Katie, but wasn’t–(4)–words, words, something, but wasn’t going to be that cruel to you. (Hopefully that fit with my previous thing). Smh, you’ve no qualms though do you? ;-) I’m kidding. Your answers were well thought out…even though you didn’t kill anyone. I can’t blame you though. I don’t think Red K! Kara is all that bad, but she’s definitely intimidating, so is Kate. Anyway, let’s see FMK: Lena, Morgana,and Kate… :-/ 3 M'kay, that’s hard, especially since I love them all and ship SuperCorp. (5 TBC)–words, words, something, but wasn’t going to be that cruel to you. (Hopefully that fit with my previous thing). Smh, you’ve no qualms though do you? ;-) I’m kidding. Your answers were well thought out…even though you didn’t kill anyone. I can’t blame you though. I don’t think Red K! Kara is all that bad, but she’s definitely intimidating, so is Kate. Anyway, let’s see FMK: Lena, Morgana,and Kate… :-/ 3 M'kay, that’s hard, especially since I love them all and ship SuperCorp. (5 TBC)(6) Uh, let’s see. I’m going to assume they are all brought to current times, so the 21st century. I would marry Morgana. You know what? I’d marry Morgana S1 or S5 because I’ve so many emotions for her and what she went through. I’d want her to know someone would be on (*cough* and by *cough*) her side. Also, she has magic that’s cool, but not the point. I don’t really want Supergirl to kill me or be sad. I wouldn’t kill Lena as of now; she’s not done anything wrong. Also, her company is (TBC)(8?) So, yes: M:Morgana, F: Lena, K: Kate. Hmm, I see yours and raise you: FMK: Lucy, she’s a vampire now but has some control over it | Kara Danvers, more so S1 in personality, but she’s still elects to become a reporter and encourages you | Lena, before she met Kara and is still learning to be a CEO…I guess that’s a younger!Lena? Idk. Okay, that should work. I hope you have a good day and night. Do you read comics? I don’t, but was curious if you did. U seem to know some lore. :-)

Heyyy! I’m not so sure I’m a fast or slow reader, it depends on my state of mind, if I take my meds and external interruptions. Usually I can read pretty fast if it’s something I’m interested in but I tend to miss things and have to read it again, with school things I’m the worst. I still have things from last year that I never got around to read and one of them was about superman (I miss studying cinema because we could have an entire class about superman and co and then write fanfiction of the world as an activity). We don’t have summer classes here, that sounds interesting, it’d be nice to get ahead, also it’s about to be winter here so after July we’ll get maybe a month off and then it’s back to being unresponsible adults. I’ve nothing against drinking and partying, I like drinking (parties are usually weird but sometimes it’s cool) but don’t freaking leave class to do it, go after the class, how disrespectful is it to leave the poor teacher there waiting 20 minutes to see if the rest of the class will show up or they’ll have to do with six or seven people? Also you pay over 1.000 bucks a month to study and you don’t give a shit about being in class? it’s throwing money away and it’s disrespectful to whoever is paying school, even if that someone is yourself. I’m not those kids that say you should only do what’s right and never skip class never drink or do anything because you have to study instead of throwing your life away. But school is expensive and respect is something you should have for everyone (unless someone is a jerk, because it’s not murder if the person is a jerk…jk)

I never liked studying in the mornings but it’s sort of better, however, my classes only exist at night, there is morning journalism classes, but it’s in another neighborhood and we have to cross the bridge and there’s no cool campus. I like my campus.

group projects are the worst. They end friendships, they end marriages, they end happiness, they lead to murder… it’s never fun. I always imagine that scene with the guy getting pizza and coming back to the place on fire and people bleeding, or that one from Mean Girls with the fighting over Aaron Samuels in animal style. Those are the only representations of group projects that are realistic.

I love how you just started to talk about JK, had two words in and

Honestly Alex has been so ooc this season it’s almost sad. No offense to Sanvers, but I think even that relationship is a bit ooc. Not the fact that there is a relationship but how it is being handled. Not gonna go into it cuz I don’t want to rant here. but I would ship Sanvers if they had put a bit more of effort into getting them together not ‘I don’t want a baby gay rn, so let’s be friends. PSYCHE I just got shot in the most harmless area of my entire body, let's make out!’

The same Alex that thought James wasn’t good enough for Kara and decked Maxwell Lord for existing would never make excuses for someone that is basically the dumb alien version of Lord with worse hair and more aggression and more pretending to be a #goodguy who’s just trying so hard and changed because after 9 months on earth as a grown man he decided to read a book, feed himself and clean his own mess… or pretend to clean his own mess while Kara actually does it and he just sits there and says she’s annoying because she doesn’t want to run away from her problems. (hey look, ranting… she said with surprise in her voice for some reason)

My favorite character was definitely Cat… and Kara. Both at the same time, I can’t choose between them, please don’t make me. and now it’s Lena… and still Kara even though she’s basically dead inside and that girl who cries because her boyfriend is moving away and it will destroy her life because that person she knows nothing about and met 9 months ago when he tried to kill her and has been lying to her and shoving her self-esteem down ever since is apparently the most important person in her life and she can’t live without him. he cooked her breakfast so he can’t move away and face his responsibilities, she’s the best thing he’s ever known, not person, thing. That woman in the best thing… god, this is so gross I cannot continue even to joke about this. so yeah, Kara is SUPER ooc this season, but I still love her and have faith she will recover from this terrible illness and come back to us, I miss her.

Yes! I would totally still marry Morgana even season 5 Morgana. poor thing just needs a hug and a friend to tell her she’s not a monster for being born different. I might start crying now so I’ll change topics. 

Definitely Marry Kara, no questions asked. Fuck Lena because, I mean, just look at her. And Kill Lucy, my poor bby, but she’s a vampire so she has to go, control or not, ‘vegetarian’ vampires are dumb.

I do read comics, not as much as I’d like, but I also watched all of the DC cartoons (minus Legion because it looks dumb) most of Smallville and Lois & Clark and when I want to know some more I read about the storylines and all, like even when I don’t read the comic itself, I read about the comic. I won’t say I know all about everything, but I can hold my ground, I guess, I’m also not above admitting I don’t know/haven’t read enough about one subject/character and reading about that on one of the sites I trust. Also watched a lot of Marvel cartoons and most of the movies aaaand I read a lot of Marvel comics, specially Balck Widow, Hawkeye, and Young Avengers.

Did you watch any superhero cartoons? They were a pretty big deal in the 90′s and early 2000′s.

Hope you have a great day and night 💙😊

[beesmygod]

do you have any advice for people who are just.... tired of fighting? people who are mentally ill and don't have the emotional energy to fight anymore, but can only stand on the sidelines and support others taking action. i feel like im in survival mode right now, not even paying attention to most news about trump because i'm so incredibly exhausted that even trying to pull my head out of the sand seems like it would be detrimental to my mental health. what can people like me do in the meantime?

this was me for so many years. i totally understand.

it comes and goes. these exhaustion are waves, not permanent declines. the weather fucking sucks, s.a.d. is out in full force and the world is really bad. this is a really tough time to be depressed in.

my advice for the short term:

1. try to do at least 1 constructive thing a day: like “do a load of laundry” “wipe down kitchen counters” or “do homework”. something that’s attainable and has a clear ending. soon it becomes habit, instead of a chore. and youll start to want to get it out of the way earlier and earlier in the day until its the first thing you do. then...you have potential time for more things and you’re standing upright so you might as well do stuff. its like that new fucked up engine nasa’s working on that builds up propulsion over time using tiny amounts of energy. its a little trickle before the dam can burst.

most importantly it helps create a living environment thats overall better. idk about you but when my rooms clean i feel at ease.

2. dont beat yourself up: and if you can’t do that? man, aim for the next day. habits dont become habits overnight. they take time. do what you’re capable of. not what you THINK you should be able to do.

3. hygiene hygiene HYGIENE: THIS is hard too, i know. but this is another thing that i guarantee you will at least make things 10% better at LEAST. scrub your face, clip your toe and fingernails, get a haircut, take a hot shower with a nice smelling soap. hell bring your phone in there and listen to a podcast while you take a bath. make it enjoyable. and please brush your teeth 2x a day. your teeth are super important and a pain in the ass to fix after the fact.

4. ask for help: on one of your “do one thing today” events, look up free counseling in the area, or see what your insurance covers. look for people with similar problems who are recovering or making strides for recovery. surround yourself with people who can and will support you when you fall backwards.

5. put your blinders on, temporarily- the world fucking sucks right now. cant disagree with that. and i think exposing yourself to endless parades of bad news doesnt do anything but compound how helpless we feel. its like, you can put out a small fire in your trash can but the inferno raging outside is still there. my constant thought process was “theres so much bad in the world, how can we ever hope to do any good?”

so...block yourself out for a while and create a peaceful space to recenter yourself. block news sites, tumblr, twitter, whatever you need to. i use stay focusd if i need some breathing room.

i guess, in summary...you need to make a space (physical and emotional) where you can unpack things healthily. plants dont grow they dont have the basics. same with people. you say you only have the energy for others, but you’re just expending what energy you have on others. its okay to do something “selfish” if its for your own good and no one gets hurt. youre not taking up anyone’s time but your own. and you have a whole lifetime of time. 

be comfy, anon. try your best to do good for you for a while. see how it goes.

[dukereviewstv]

Duke Reviews TV: Batman: The Animated Series 1x17 See No Evil

Hello, I'm Andrew Leduc And Welcome To Duke Reviews TV Where We Continue Our Look At Batman The Animated Series By Looking At Episode 17 Of Season 1, See No Evil...

This Episode Introduces Us To Lloyd "Eddie" Ventrix, Who Is On The Verge Of Losing His Daughter, Kimberly (Who Is Voiced By Elizabeth Moss) To His Ex-Wife, Helen Due To His Past As A Con Artist...

But Determined Not To Lose His Daughter, Ventrix Dons A Suit Stolen From Where He Used To Work, Which Grants The User Invisibility While Becoming Highly Toxic And Chemically Driving The Person In It Dangerously Insane...

Now, I Know What You're Asking, "Andrew, Isn't This Kind Of Like The Recent Invisible Man Movie Which Also Had Elizabeth Moss, That Came Out Not That Long Ago?" Well, Yeah I'd Basically Say So..,.

In Fact, I Wouldn't Be Surprised If They Took Story Elements From This Episode When They Were Working On The Film, Instead Of Actually Taking More Elements From H.G. Wells' Novel, Like They Should Have Been!...

In Fact, I'm Surprised Elizabeth Moss Didn't Realize She Did Something Similar Like That When She Was A Kid, But I Guess Anybody Will Do Anything For Money, Isn't That Right, Holly Madison?

But This Isn't About Leigh Whannell's Invisible Man Movie, It's About This Episode Of Batman: The Animated Series, So, Let's Get Back On Topic...

Will Batman Save Kimberly From Ventrix When He Poses As Her Imaginary Friend?

Let's Find Out As We Watch See No Evil...

The Episode Starts In The Run Down Suburbs Of Gotham City, Where A Window Of A House Opens Mysteriously On It's Own So A Disembodied Voice Can Wake The Young Girl Sleeping In The Bed Named Kimmy, Who Believes The Disembodied Voice To Be Her Imaginary Friend Named Mojo...

Is Your Imaginary Friend A Evil Talking Monkey Who Is Bent On Taking Over The City Of Townsville?..

Who Gives Her A Gold Locket, Placing It Around Her Neck, As He Promises To Bring Her A Pearl Necklace The Next Time He Visits But Mentioning That Her Mother And Her Are Planning On Moving, There's A Shock In Mojo's Voice As Kimmy's Mom, Helen Enters Asking Kimmy Who She's Talking To...

But Mentioning That She's Talking To Her Imaginary Friend, Helen Chuckles As She Puts Her Daughter To Bed...

The Next Day We Meet Lloyd Ventrix (Played By Michael Moss, Who Would Later Play Warren McGinnis, Father Of Terry McGinnis Aka Batman Beyond) Who Walks Into The Men's Room At A Jewelry Expo, Where He Puts On A Sheath Of Gray Material Before Pressing A Button On His Watch Which Turns Him Invisible...

Walking Out Of The Bathroom, He Lifts The Jewels Off The Displays In Plain Sight, With People Staring Baffled At What They See, Bruce Wayne (Who Just So Happens To Be There) Suits Up And Goes After Ventrix...

Cornering Him At The Construction Site, Batman Throws A Bucket Of Paint At Ventrix So He Can See Him. But When He Touches His Watch Again, The Paint Burns Off. Taunting Batman, Ventrix Gives Him A Good Beating Before Running Off...

Returning To His Hideout, Ventrix Becomes Visible Again As He Looks At A Picture Of Kimmy As He Goes That His Wife Won't Take Her Away From Him...

Visiting Helen At Her Work, Ventrix Tries To Reconcile With Her, Swearing That He's Not Only Turned Over A New Leaf But Is Doing Well To The Point That He Can Provide For Them Both, But Helen Wants Nothing To Do With Him, And Tells Ventrix To Stay Away From Them Both...

Remembering The Name Of A Scientist Who Approached Wayne Tech With The Idea Of A Cloak Of Invisibility, Bruce Goes To See Lucius Fox Who Tells Them That While They Were Interested, The Scientist, Dr. Karos Withdrew His Proposal Before They Could Close The Deal...

With Karos Passing Away A Couple Months Ago, Bruce Goes To See His Assistant, Sam Giddell As Batman About The Suit, But He Swears That He Was Working At The Time Of The Robbery...

Looking At A Roll Of The Special Plastic The Suit Uses, Batman Asks Giddell How It Works, So, Giddell Explains That When An Electrical Current Runs Through The Plastic, It Bends Light Instead Of Absorbing It, Making It Invisible...

But, The Electricity Also Makes The Plastic Toxic, Which Is Why Karos Withdrew His Proposal. Giddell Has Actually Been Trying To Fix The Problem But Has Had No Success...

But When He Tried Destroying It, He Discovered That Some Of The Plastic Was Missing. With Batman Asking If Anyone Else Knew About The Plastic, Giddell Remembers They Had An Errand Boy, Who Happened To Be An Ex-Convict Named Lloyd Ventrix...

That Night, Batman Visits Helen To Tell Her The Plastic Which Has Her Finally Putting 2 And 2 Together That Mojo Is Ventrix...

Going Inside To Warn Kimmy, Helen Discovers Kimmy Is Gone As All There Is On The Floor, Is Kimmy's Favorite Doll...

Taking Kimmy To An Abandoned Drive In Theatre, Mojo Finally Reveals Who He Is, Causing Kimmy To Recoil As Her Mom Warned Her That Her Dad Is A Bad Man...

Attempting To Drag Kimmy In The Car, Batman Catches Up With Them And Kicks Ventrix Aside Allowing Kimmy To Run Home...

(Start At 1:10)

The Next Day, Kimmy Is Talking To Someone Outside Her Window, Telling Him That Her And Her Mother Moving To Somewhere That Ventrix Won't Find Them...

That Would Prove To Be A Bad Decision As Kimmy Would Later End Up Joining An Apocalypse Cult Run By Jon Hamm, Only To Be Released 15 Years Later So She Could Live In New York With Titus Burgess And Carol Kane...

But When Helen Hears Kimmy Talking To Somebody, She Tells Her That She's Talking To Batman, But Of Course, Helen Doesn't Believe Her Despite It Being True As Our Episode Ends...

And That's See No Evil And...It's Ok...

It's Better Than The Recent Invisible Man Movie, But I Wish That We Had More Info About Helen And Ventrix's Relationship Then We Get In The Episode, As I Really Don't If Ventrix Is A Really Bad Guy Or If He's More Like Scott Lang In Ant-Man A Guy Who Wants To Be A Good Guy But His Ex-Wife Just Considers Him To Be A Bad Guy Until He Becomes The Good Guy...

But Despite That, I Say See It...

Till Next Time, This Is Duke, Signing Off...