#Jeff Brink

[returne]

three baby werewolves walk into a bar (only one walks back out)

These Violent Delights, Micah Nemerever / Cassandra: A Novel and Four Essays, Christa Wolf

[90smovies]

[cute-sucker]

all i can think about is boxer!rafe with his cute clumsy gf??

𐙚˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡ ˚

rafe being a boxer did not help your situation as an unnaturally clumsy person.

you're always on the brink of failing down, head face first into concrete, or something even worse. you feel like an idiot every single day as you try to get through obstacles that face your everyday life.

going up the stairs? yes, you have fallen going up the stairs.

going down the stairs? check that off the list too. that was done a hot minute ago. it's all a blur to you, but when you and rafe first got into a relationship it was alarming the amount of bruises you got.

it was strange to be with someone so coordinated as him, as if every single on his moves was coordinated. you had watched him box and every move deliberate. power and strength oozed off of him, and you wondered what you even offered in the relationship. after all he was the one taking care of you.

he could tell when you were about to fall - his hand stuck out to catch you, he could tell when you were going to trip, hands reaching for your shoulders. you would always give him a cute smile afterwards, and a welcoming kiss.

but there were other times when you felt worse about it, crying to him about how incompetent you were, "can't do it, rafe. i'm so, so clumsy," and you could tell that he was fighting the urge to laugh as you pouted.

"nah. i like it," he would mutter, before gently smudging your lipstick with his finger as he tilted down to give you a peck, "keeps me on my toes."

and yet there were times when being clumsy did not help at all.

you were snuggled to his side, smelling his hoodie in deeply before sighing. the movie was playing in the background as he held you close to his chest, as a soft humming escaped your lips. it was a moment you knew you would always remember, and you raised your arms to stretch.

little to your knowledge the sleeves of your shirt went down to uncover a litter of blue and green bruises. they looked fairly recent but still were blossoming on your skin. unbeknownst to you, rafe's eyes quickly traveled to your arms.

"hey? you good?" he sputtered out, and you gave him a smitten nod, burrowing deeper into his chest. rafe looked even more concerned, readjusting - which forced you to get up as a short whine left your mouth.

he tugged at your sweatshirt, "what the hell was that?"

you furrowed your eyebrows, "what the hell was what? you have to be more specific rafe-" you hated this, and even though you didn't know what he was talking about there was this inkling of fear that stuck into your heart.

rafe let out a grunt, before pulling away down your sleeves again, and then he pointed at the bruises, "these? who hurt you?"

dumbfounded you stared at your arms, and then looked at rafe - his eyes practically bugging out of their sockets, jaw clenched as if a vein was about to burst and you couldn't help but start giggling.

"hey. hey, focus," a hand reached for your jaw as you stared into his steely eyes. suddenly you saw another side of him, the rafe that everyone talked about. the one that could knock out a guy with one punch, the one that came home with bloody knuckles and a chewed mouth guard. and yet it was the same rafe that slept in your bed comfortably and whispered your name gently as if he wanted to etch it on his heart.

that rafe.

you had zoned out again before you noticed his furious expression, and then an unpleasant smile that crossed on his face. it looked as if he was trying to feign being calm, and you felt tears prick your eyes.

"rafe-"

"no crying. c'mon baby, just give me a name."

now you were chuckling through tears, and he gave him an incredulous look.

finally he pecked your lips, his words oddly sweet, "listen. i've always told you i'm gonna protect you right. it's jeff isn't it-" his words came out sharp, and you knew exactly who he was talking about - your boss at the restaurant you worked at who complained about your inability to do anything right.

but that was definitely not it.

"rafe!" you finally sputtered, "rafe it's me."

finally he stopped, his mouth gaping open, "what do you mean it's you sweets?"

you huffed, looking down at your arms, "i'm so darn clumsy that i have bruises everywhere. i always check before i go to bed, yk' to check how many i have."

rafe's concern quickly shifted to a mix of frustration and worry as he examined the bruises on your arms, letting soft clucks. he let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair before turning to you with a furrowed brow.

"sweetheart, you have to be more careful," he said, his tone tinged with annoyance but softened by genuine concern, and then he finally tugged you in closer as you started to protest.

"we'll talk about this later. maybe you'll start boxing, huh? you'll be my little champ."

𐙚˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡ ˚

taglist for all my fics; @wearemadeofstardust0

taglist for boxer!rafe: @maybankslover @vogueprincess @spookyscaryspoon

let me know if you'd like to be added!

[bloodblanks]

kinks

ft: eyeless jack, masky, hoodie, ticci toby, jeff the killer, ben drowned, slenderman

author's note: this fanfiction will contain explicit sexual content, including various kinks, fetishes, and similar themes.

please read at your own discretion.

eyeless jack

biting.

the taste of human flesh is already something that jack likes, but even more so when it comes to your flesh specifically. it’s all about the way his teeth sink into the softness of your flesh, the taste of your blood flowing into his mouth; it’s all too delicious. however, there’s another darker side of him that relishes in the way you squirm against him, or the sound escaping your lips—the perfect concoction of pain and pleasure.

marking.

this comes alongside biting, but he enjoys owning you and branding you as his. either with the aforementioned bitemarks, or with hickeys—although he tends to bite during them, anyway—or by carving his name into you. that’s his favourite.

knifeplay.

technically, in his case it’d be scalpelplay. anyhow, he loves running his scalpel along the surface of your skin, tracing along the curvature of your body, or slicing thin lines and outlining your bone structure, especially your ribs.

bloodplay.

this goes hand in hand with knifeplay as well as biting. first and foremost, he relishes in the taste of your blood. it’s the closest he can get to tasting you without hurting you too much. however, he also likes to play with it. he’ll smear it across your skin, painting you with beautiful crimson, but he’ll also lap up your blood, then proceed to kiss you, making you taste yourself and then seeing the stains on your soft lips.

breeding.

there’s just something about him being a demon that gives him a primal urge to want to mate you, breed you, fill you with his seed and impregnate you.

creampies.

this branches off breeding, but his favourite place to cum is obviously inside you; he loves watching his cum drip out of you.

masky

dominance/submission.

frankly, tim is a freak. which will become more and more obvious as you read through this list. anyway. the most important thing for tim in terms of kinks is dominance. he wants to assert power and control over you and enforce that you’re his and his alone. he wants you to submit to him and know that you’ll do whatever he wants whenever he wants, whether you like it or not.

bondage.

tim loves bondage of all sorts. be it tying you up or using chains—he likes it all. it only adds to the power he has over you, considering you’re all tied up, helpless and at his whim. his particular favourite is chaining you to the wall, amongst others, such as tying your hands behind your back while he fucks you from behind. he loves seeing you struggle against your bindings to no avail, especially if he’s edging, overstimulating, or hurting you.

restraints.

closely related to bondage is restraints, such as gags, handcuffs, and blindfolds. they restrict or deprive you of something or another, and the simple fact that he can take that away from you, turns him on. he’s 50/50 on the gags, though, because on one hand he likes it when you can’t talk or even protest against anything he does, but on the other hand he loves hearing all the sounds you make.

edging.

he enjoys edging you, and he’ll really take it to the next level by having you restrained, unable to move or do anything to stop him as he fingers you and plays with your clit, maybe even going down on you or using a toy of some sort. whatever it is, he loves bringing you right to the brink of orgasm and then stopping just before. he’ll do it numerous times, over and over until you’re on the verge of tears and begging for him to please just let you cum.

begging.

the sound of you begging is nothing short of music to his ears. and that’s why he’ll make you do it so often. he’ll make you beg for him to fuck you, he’ll make you beg for him to let you cum, he’ll make you beg for pretty much each and every single bit of pleasure he gives you. he relishes in how powerful it makes him feel and it’s so hot for him to have you begging and pleading for him, desperate for him to allow you any pleasure at all. he loves knowing that it’s all fully dependant on him; he can control whether or not you feel good and just how good you feel. and there’s nothing you can say or do about it.

overstimulation.

when he’s finally satisfied with how desperate you are and how much you’ve pleaded for him, he’ll finally let you cum. and while it may feel good the first time he lets you, you know it’s only a matter of time before he does it again and again, until you’re once again begging and crying for him to stop, telling him that you’re too sensitive and it’s too much.

sadism/masochism.

tim not only likes to control whether or not you feel pleasure, but he also likes to do the same for pain. not only does he just like it by default, but it also closely ties into and relates to his other kinks.

spanking.

he likes spanking you. bending you over his lap and spanking you with his hand, or even a paddle or his belt. he loves making you count each and every strike, but not as much as he enjoys making you thank him for it. he likes it when you’re tied up the most so that he can watch you squirm yet unable to get away. he’ll also spank you during sex if you’re doing doggystyle. the sight of your pretty ass, nice and red with heat radiating off your cheeks, is delightful for him.

hair pulling.

tim will pull your hair, especially if he’s fucking you from behind. he also likes it when you’re giving him head, but one of his favourite scenarios is just having you bend over a counter, being able to tug your hair and make you arch your back for him as he thrusts into you.

slapping.

straight up, across the face. bonus points if it’s in combination with him pulling you up by the hair.

whipping.

most of the time, spanking, hairpulling and slapping is enough for him. however, on occasion, if he’s feeling particularly sadistic, he’ll whip you with his belt as well. he’ll use the leather for the rest of your body, but then the metal buckle for your ass.

knifeplay.

sometimes, he’ll even bring out his switchblade for a bit of fun, holding it to your throat or flicking it across your cheek lightly.

powerplay.

as mentioned, tim loves unbalanced power dynamics. this really shows itself in that he enjoys being fully, or at least mostly clothed while you’re naked. the power imbalance turns him on a lot.

pet play.

he isn’t particularly into pet play, but he indulges in some aspects of it, such as using a collar and leash on you. tim likes tugging you around with the leash, or pulling your head back, cutting off your oxygen supply while he fucks you from behind with it. he’ll also probably invest in a (human-sized, obviously) cage.

breathplay.

just like with all other aspects of sex for him, tim wants control, and what better control than having his hands wrapped around your neck?

degradation.

he’s not super heavy on this, but he’ll say things like, “who’s my slut?” or “who do you belong to?” in bed.

oral. (receiving)

tim doesn’t mind giving oral, but he likes receiving it far more. however, he isn’t satiated with a simple blow job. much like other activities, he’ll want your hands tied up behind your back, so that you can’t stop him while he has his hand wrapped in your hair, holding your head still as he brutally fucks your throat. you’d have to learn to take it, because he wouldn’t care if you were gagging or choking, it would only further arouse him if anything.

dacryphilia.

tim really gets off to you crying, whether it be from edging, overstimulation, pain, or even just when you tear up as his cock hits the back of your throat.

bonus: tim will spit into your mouth.

hoodie

corruption.

brian sees you as an angel. something pure, delicate, ethereal. while he has this nice, friendly, sweet demeanour, he knows himself that he is a monster deep down, a monster that wants nothing more than to corrupt that innocence of yours. he doesn’t necessarily want to hurt you, but he sure as hell wants to ruin you.

lingerie.

brian loves lingerie. he really likes the way the fabric clings tightly to your body, not enough to cover you but enough to accentuate your form, somehow making your already flawless body even better if that was even possible.

lace.

lingerie in general is nice, but what really gets him going is lace. white lace. not only does it look exquisite on you, it also complements your angel-like innocence, adding more flames to the fuel that is his corruption kink.

thigh highs.

technically, it doesn’t have to be thigh highs. while brian does particularly favour white thigh highs, he also likes other leggings/stockings/pantyhose, provided they’re white and sheer or with lace. he likes sheer, semi-translucent long socks, or even other items of clothing; it gives off the impression that he’s seeing something he shouldn’t be, which really turns him on. and of course, he appreciates lace socks, the ones that go up to your ankles or knees as well.

bonus points if you pair it with the lingerie.

skirts/dresses.

there’s something so feminine and delicate about skirts or dresses, especially if they’re well, white and/or with lace, that’s so sensual to him. not to mention it allows him easy access. he can just flip up your skirt or dress, seeing your cute lace panties underneath, proceed to push them aside and just fuck you…

praise.

brian will say things such as “you’re such a good girl,” “you’re taking me so well, angel,” along with incoherent ramblings of how precious and perfect you are.

oral. (giving)

he enjoys going down on you. he loves the way you taste and he gets off to your moans, the way you arch your back, the way you squirm against his face, the way your hands tangle in his hair, everything about it is just delightful for him.

ddlg.

more specifically, daddy kink. brian really likes being called daddy, and he will often call you nicknames such as ‘princess’ and ‘babygirl.’

sensory deprivation.

to be precise, blindfolds. it’s erotic, taking away your sight and leaving you in the dark, unknowing of what he plans to do next, oversensitive and gasping at his touch.

ticci toby

exhibitionism.

nothing gets toby more excited than fingering you in public, under the table at a dinner or somewhere else where people wouldn’t notice. he’ll fuck you in some alley or back of a building, a place that people shouldn’t generally notice but would depend on how well you can stifle your moans, how well you can hold back from making sounds so that nobody would know the indecency the two of you were up to. he loves how good and innocent you seem in public while at the same time, just between the two of you, you were dirty and spreading your legs for him.

degradation.

toby goes hard with the degradation. he’ll tell you things such as “you’re such a fucking slut,” “you’re my useless whore,” “you’re a worthless cumdump,” all the while he’s fucking you. he really likes the idea of using you, having you be his perfect little fucktoy, for him to do whatever he pleases with.

ps: if you beg him to use you, he’ll literally fall in love with you. no better words could come out of your mouth.

free use.

he likes having you at his disposal, ready for him whenever he wants.

begging.

there’s few things he likes more than listening to you beg; it’s just such a humiliating position for you to be in, and he loves pushing you to that point so that he can hear and relish in how pathetic you are for him.

experimentation!

first of all, toby likes a little bit of everything. spanking, choking, bondage, the list goes on. but most of all, he likes to experiment. toby loves trying new things in the bedroom all the time, be it new positions, unusual kinks, roleplay scenarios, he’ll do it all. he’s even happy to try switching roles every once in a while.

roleplay.

seriously, toby will try anything, and he loves roleplaying different scenarios with you just to switch things up.

anal.

this one relates to both experimentation and trying new things. why stick to one hole when you can have two?

toys.

his main interest is buttplugs, but he’ll enjoy using vibrators as well as other toys on you.

bonus: toby is a switch, as implied above. he’s more dominant than submissive, and if you don’t like to dominate, that’s perfectly fine with him and he doesn’t mind. however, he would be ecstatic to have you reverse the roles and tell him how much of a good boy he is.

jeff the killer

rough sex.

jeff likes it rough. he’s particularly into fucking you from behind, although his favourite position would be up against a wall. he likes it hard and rough and fast; being able to watch your curves bounce as he slams in and out of you, being able to feel your nails scratch against his back as you writhe in pleasure, and there’s nothing better than hearing you gasping and screaming his name.

knifeplay.

jeff likes knifeplay, however he’s different from jack. while he will sometimes run the blade along your skin, what he primarily likes to do is hold it to your neck during sex. he enjoys watching you tense up, as well as ultimately pressing the blade in ever so slightly just to draw a bit of blood while he orgasms inside you.  

oral. (receiving)

jeff has nothing against giving oral, he’s not super into it but he’ll do it if you want him to. however, the real treat for him is receiving. he thoroughly enjoys having you suck his dick, feeling your pretty lips wrapped around it, struggling to take in his length. he likes pulling your hair during it, guiding you and bobbing your head up and down on his member. he enjoys having you start off nice and slow, maybe even teasing him a bit, but tease him enough and he’ll get impatient and quicken the pace. he likes when you swallow, especially if you open your mouth and show him before you do it.

bonus points if you make eye contact as you during all of this. oh, and he’ll literally love you forever if you deepthroat.

ben drowned

spanking.

ben isn’t that kinky. he’s happy browsing the front page of pornhub, essentially. he’s into things such as spanking—he’ll gladly bend you over his lap, or just spanking you while fucking you doggystyle. he prefers using hands, but sometimes he’ll bring out the paddle, too. he likes the ones that leave heart-shaped marks.

pet play.

ben is kind of your average gamer boy. he likes cat girls. it’s not really that much pet play, as much as it specifically cat girls, but whatever. he likes it when you wear a pair of cat ears as well as having a cat tail buttplug, although he’s not that into anal.

cosplay.

this goes along with the cat girl thing, but ben enjoys seeing you in cosplays. to be specific, maid outfits. he would be pleased with almost any cosplay, though. nurse outfits, schoolgirl uniforms, you name it, he probably likes it.

breathplay.

choking in general is nice for him; he likes the way your neck feels in his grip, so fragile and delicate. he likes the way your smaller hands instinctively grab onto his wrist, he finds it adorable. his favourite though? the bathtub. he likes fucking you over a bathtub, with you bent over the edge, your ass nicely on display for him, the water in the tub filled up until the very brim, and your pretty little head getting pushed under the water.

other than that, ben is relatively vanilla.

slenderman

tentacles.

slender loves using his tentacles on you. seriously though, tentacles are very versatile. not only can he fuck you with them, but he can also employ them as tools for bondage. he’ll wrap his tentacles around your wrists, binding your arms. he’ll use them to pull and then hold your legs apart, spreading them wide open for him to fuck you. his tentacles are strong, strong enough to lift you up, suspending you in midair while he fucks you. he thoroughly enjoys having a tentacle in your mouth, feeling your tongue, soft and wet swirl around it, sucking on it like you would his dick. he’ll relish in that while he has another tentacle pumping in and out of your cunt, and a third one filling up your ass. he loves having all three of your holes filled up at the same time; there’s no better way to know that you belong to him entirely. sometimes he’ll even slide two in the same hole, having one pump in while the other pulls out.

so that by default includes bondage, suspension, anal, and double penetration.  

size kink.

he’s approximately two and a half metres tall, so it’s safe to say he towers over you, especially if you’re smaller. he enjoys pinning you down, taking your tiny wrists in his larger hands, lifting you up and sitting you on his cock because you’re so light, so tiny, so delicate. he just wants to stretch you out and fill you up with his length.

oral.

slender loves both giving and receiving oral. how can he resist watching you struggle to take in his length, your tiny hands on his thighs as you bob your head up and down on his dick, tearing up ever so slightly when it hits the back of your throat, causing you to gag? but of course, he loves pleasuring you as well, with his tongue, long and pointed and able to reach the entirety of your insides, all the while he has a tentacle playing with your clit, or sometimes just his hand.

dirty talk.

slender is able to communicate telepathically. that means he can say the nastiest, most unholy things to you while you’re out in public, without anyone noticing or even suspecting that anything was up. you’d have to pretend that everything is fine, while you’re out drinking coffee and he’s trying to get you all hot and bothered by telling you in detail how he would ravish you later that evening. another side of this is that he loves talking dirty in bed too, and you can hear and almost feel him speak inside your head all the while he’s pounding away at your insides.

breeding.

something about being a supernatural, inhuman being makes it so erotic for him to breed you, to impregnate you, to create a half-human baby with you. he just wants to fill you up with his seed over and over again until it’s leaking out of every hole of yours.

author’s note: i cannot believe i wrote this. i am a sinner. i am going to hell.

[nataliesscatorccio]

what I think is so great about Yellowjackets is that not a single one of these girls have moved on. shauna is married to jeff and reenacting high school flings with strangers. nat escapes in addiction and still dresses like she's 16. misty went into medical and stalks her teammates. even taissa, who seems like she's come the farthest, we find in the end is still eating dirt in a tree outside her son's window and ritual sacrificing in the basement. and that's trauma!!!!! it never leaves you, and no matter how far you go you never leave it either. nat was right when she told tai and shauna they're just as close to the brink as she is, they just hide it better. and now season 2 "it's happening again" it will always happen it's the cycle it's unbreakable. it's in you. "i thought we left it there when we were rescued, but now I realize. we brought it back with us."

[loveinhawkins]

When Eddie’s terrified, he feels cold—and it’s not a mild thing, not just goosebumps on his arms. It’s violent shivers: his breath catching as ice forms in his lungs, crystallising up his throat until he can barely talk.

It was bad at the middle school talent show: stuck in the wings with fellow students pressed up against him, all jostling for space. He should’ve been sweating.

And technically he was, but it was as if his brain hadn’t checked in with his body or maybe the other way round, and he kept biting down hard on his tongue as his teeth chattered.

A teacher noticed and even asked if he was feeling sick, if he wanted to be sent home.

He shook his head, felt his legs shaking; Jeff had to speak for him until it was finally the band’s turn on stage, and the ice thankfully thawed enough for him to sing.

But right now he thinks the ice is here to stay.

He’s sat back in the boat, the tarp tangled up by his feet; he can’t stop one knee from bouncing up and down erratically. He knows he isn’t really shaking because of the literal cold, but it doesn’t exactly help that it’s damp as hell in here.

He’s not alone—he’s still surrounded by quite possibly the most random group of people in history. Dustin’s leading the conversation, which has devolved into Max teasing him about some girl called Suzie.

Eddie suspects the change of tone is deliberate, that these kids who are somehow well-versed in a literal fucking war have an admirable intuition; have sensed that he needs a cool down after learning about an evil alternate dimension. Kinda like what he does if he watches a horror movie late at night—makes sure to read some light-hearted crap before he goes to sleep, so the scary shit isn’t the last thing on his mind.

Eddie appreciates the thought. If he wasn’t still repressing shivers, he might even find it sweet.

But the chatter isn’t helping.

He can’t grab a hold of it, the sounds slipping away before he can make sense of them; his mind keeps drifting away, and he’s suddenly stuck on the thought that he can’t remember what Chrissy’s last words to him were. He can hardly even recall what her laugh sounded like in the woods—like everything about her has been trapped underwater, stifled beyond all recognition.

He let her die, and he can’t even manage the decency of remembering her. What the fuck is wrong with him?

He exhales shakily. Neither Max or Dustin seem to notice, which both relieves him and sets his teeth on edge.

His lungs are tight, but he still feels a sudden urge to talk—for once wishes that he’d just bite his tongue instead.

Something’s cracking deep inside him.

He’d thought his breaking point had been reached long ago, but it keeps getting worse; as the kids talk, he can’t avoid the fact that they’ve already watched him profoundly lose it, and shame spreads from the pit of his stomach—merges with the ice, culminating in a bitter wave of self-loathing.

Leave me alone, he desperately wants to say, but he knows it’ll just come out in a scream, knows it’ll sound like he’s furious. That’s always been the way of things, at least for him: deep-seated fear hiding underneath anger.

He opens his mouth. His teeth are clacking together.

He manages to temper the feeling right at the brink so that all he says is, “D-don’t you assholes have a bed time?”

“Oh, that’s cute,” Dustin says, over the sound of Max scoffing.

Please go, just fucking go, I’m gonna fall apart and I don’t want you to see it, not again.

“Yeah, well I have a bedtime, so let’s get outta here, dickheads,” Steve says.

He sounds dry, borderline snippy. But his eyes fleetingly meet Eddie’s as he speaks, like he’s heard him somehow. Like he understands.

Dustin stands with some customary grumbling, pulling Max up with him.

“Night, Eddie. It’ll be okay,” he says, so optimistic—with an unshakeable courage that Eddie has never once possessed.

Eddie attempts a smile. Has no idea if he succeeds.

Robin’s already standing, walking off behind Dustin and Max—but then she spins, doubles back on herself; Eddie jumps at the sudden movement.

“Water!” she says, “I’ve got some in the car, you should—hang on, Eddie.”

“I’m—I’m fine, I don’t need…” Eddie’s voice is hoarse, fades out on him. He coughs, tries again, slightly louder, “I said I don’t need it!”

But Robin’s already too far away to hear him.

The quiet rustle of a jacket: Steve is still here.

Eddie lunges forward as quick as he can. His hand clasps around Steve’s wrist.

“Harrington, seriously, tell her not to bother, man. I’ll—” He swallows. “I’ll just throw it back up.”

It’s almost too dark to see, but Eddie swears Steve’s eyes are flickering over his face. He doesn’t know what he’s seeing. Doesn’t think he wants to know the answer.

“Dude, you need to drink, at least,” Steve says finally. He gently tugs himself free—stepping back with an apologetic air, slowly enough that Eddie doesn’t startle. “Gimme a sec.”

He’s back in under a minute, passing Eddie a bottle of water with the cap already off.

Eddie drinks. Despite his protesting, he knows it’s for the best; his head is pounding. He spills the water more than once; his hand is trembling.

Steve doesn’t mention it.

“I can get you some food,” he says.

Eddie shakes his head. “I ate before. Not hungry.”

He’s telling the truth, although he can’t remember what he ate. Can’t remember much of anything.

Steve doesn’t look very happy with that response. His frown is audible when he asks, “Don’t you have a blanket or something?”

Eddie laughs, horribly false. “Why, Harrington? Wanna tuck me in?”

Steve doesn’t answer.

Eddie wants him to retaliate with what he deserves: cutting words. Wants Steve to throw out something cruel, then leave him be.

No. That’s not…

He wants… he wants…

“Don’t move,” Steve says. “I’ll be right back.”

Eddie laughs again—a little more genuine. “Can’t exactly go anywhere.”

He doesn’t know how long Steve takes. He loses track of time after the sound of the car reversing fades away; the darkness stretches out before him, and his fingers flex, tremulous, and he almost starts to believe that no-one’s found him after all, that he’s alone, that he’ll always be—

The soft crunch of tires rolling over gravel. The twin clunks of a car door being opened then closed, not too loudly, followed by even footsteps. Slow. Safe. And Eddie hears Steve singing, quiet enough that he can’t really decipher the lyrics.

He doesn’t know why he recognises it, why it’s so familiar. But he understands why Steve is doing it, the realisation burning in his throat: that Steve is signalling his approach, so Eddie knows it’s him.

“Hey,” Steve says, and there’s a gentle kind of thud—something being dropped by Eddie’s feet. Then the soft press of fabric behind him: a pillow.

Eddie manages to shift his feet a bit. More fabric. It’s a blanket.

“I just thought, like, two layers, y’know?” Steve is saying. “Not ideal with the tarp, but it should trap more heat compared to…” Eddie’s throat tightens even more. It’s so… so fucking kind.

“Thanks,” he manages.

“Hey,” Steve says again, softer—a hand lands on Eddie’s knee; his palm is warm. “You’re okay.”

Eddie realises belatedly that he’s crying again. For a little while, it just feels automatic, as if he’s detached from the tears; Steve gives him space, working around him.

And Steve’s not tucking him in really, just sort of shaking out the blanket, but he lets it fall with intention—smoothes out the creases when it gathers around Eddie’s knees.

Eddie doesn’t know what changes, just knows that he’s abruptly aware of the silent tears building into something more. There’s a false jagged sensation of something getting caught in his chest as he swallows, and he gasps, inhales sharply—once, twice; feels that panicked stutter to his breath, like when he was a kid failing at treading water.

Steve crouches by the side of the boat.

“You’re okay,” he repeats. He’s rubbing his throat ever so slightly while he says it—doesn’t seem aware that he’s doing it.

“I’m s—” Eddie chokes on the words again, a distressed hum cutting through instead. “I’m s-sorry.”

“Eddie, it’s—”

Eddie points to Steve’s throat. “C-could’ve—mm, mm. Could’ve been bad.”

He remembers the feeling of Steve’s skin against the shard of glass, remembers his stupid shaking hands—so close, too close to blood being spilled.

Just a hair’s breadth away from…

It could’ve happened so easily. Two deaths on his conscience.

“Eddie,” Steve says calmly. “It’s fine. I wouldn’t have let you.”

It’s not a threat. It’s a reassurance.

His hand falls away from his neck, as if making a point.

Eddie stares and stares—and it’s definitely too dark to tell if there’s a bead of blood on Steve’s skin, but his mind does the work for him.

Vivid, wet. It wouldn’t stop. Chrissy. Her eyes…

The ice freezes over completely, stops up his throat.

Eddie can’t breathe.

“Yeah, you can,” someone’s saying, “hey, it’s gonna pass, it’s gonna pass, okay? I’m just gonna…”

A snap.

Eddie flinches, cries out with a wordless noise of anguish.

Through the roaring in his ears, he hears, “Shit,” before a contrite whisper of, “Sorry, sorry.”

Steve. Steve’s here, guiding his hands until they’re cupped around something.

Something warm.

It starts the thaw, draws air back into Eddie’s lungs. His head clears a little. He knows where he is. Wishes he wasn’t…

He wants someone to tell him that Chrissy didn’t suffer, that she didn’t feel anything.

No.

He wants someone to wake him up, to tell him it was just a nightmare, that he can go home; he wants the universe to rearrange itself so that Chrissy never even met him—that the only trouble she ever has to deal with is which shoes to wear with her graduation robes.

“I want,” he gets out, “I want—”

“I know,” Steve says.

His hands are still wrapped around Eddie’s.

And Eddie senses the source of the heat now, a packet of some kind.

A hand-warmer.

He manages to take a proper breath, deep enough that he can smell the pillow Steve has given him; it doesn’t smell of the detergent Wayne uses, but it smells like a home at least. The dip in the middle makes him suspect that Steve’s brought the pillow from his own bed.

Eddie breathes in again. Out.

“There you go,” Steve murmurs.

Gradually the warmth against Eddie’s palms brings about a repeatedly suppressed, bone-deep tiredness. His eyes are stinging with it, and he feels like the boat’s been pushed out onto the lake; he sways forward without meaning to.

“Sorry,” he says, tongue thick.

He lifts his head to find Steve looking at him intently, brow furrowed.

“You should lie down,” Steve says quietly. “You look exhausted.”

Eddie does, turns onto his side so he can still just about see over the side of the boat. But…

“I won’t sleep,” he tells Steve through a sigh. He’s not arguing the point; it just seems inevitable.

Steve shrugs. “Just shutting your eyes is better than nothing,” he says casually enough, but it sounds too knowing, like he’s speaking from experience.

Eddie wonders what Steve sees when he falls asleep.

Steve stands up slowly. Hesitant.

“I’m—um. I’m sorry,” he says. “I’d stay, believe me, but I just—I don’t want the car here too long in case someone…”

“Go, Harrington,” Eddie says, hopes it comes out as gentle as he means it to be. “You’re the taxi service.”

Steve smiles. “We’ll be back,” he says. “Tomorrow, okay? I promise. We’ll bring food.”

“Tomorrow,” Eddie echoes. Tries and fails to push down a yawn. “Food.”

It’s not so bad, listening to Steve walking away. Eddie’s eyes close, burn with relief; in his head he follows along with the sound of Steve’s footsteps as they get more and more distant.

Car door opening. Closing. Seems farther away than before. His head is heavy.

He doesn’t expect to fall asleep. But he does his best to keep his thoughts on something light anyway. Maybe the continual warmth between his hands helps, ensures he doesn’t spiral back down to… to…

It comes to him fuzzily: why he recognised Steve singing in the first place.

Last summer, going to the mall to catch a movie, walking past an ice-cream parlor and hearing…

It was an unselfconscious kind of singing—no tension in the high notes. The sort usually done alone.

And do you feel scared? I do. But I won't stop and falter.

Eddie glanced over. Steve had been mopping, head down, but he looked up suddenly—for a moment, Eddie worried that he had been spotted. But then he watched the surreal sight of a group of children walking all over the wet floor, Steve beckoning them onward with fond exasperation.

He tapped at his wrist. “You’re cutting it fine tonight. Through the back, round the—”

“We know,” came an already distant chorus.

Steve rolled his eyes.

“And if anyone hears about this—”

“We’re dead!”

A door shut—alone again, Steve shook his head to himself. Smiled.

And if we threw it all away. Things can only get better.

Eddie remembers thinking that his voice wasn’t all that bad. It was nice.

It was…

Eddie wakes up warm.

The sight of the tarp disorients him for a few seconds—but he’s too sleepy to be panicked. The blanket against his jeans feels perfectly heavy. Keeps him still. Keeps him…

He thinks he must unintentionally drift off again; when he comes to, he feels that the hand-warmer he’s holding has gone cold. His feet knock against something, and he opens his eyes enough to see that Steve’s left more pouches. He takes one, hums when he cracks it so he doesn’t hear the…

It’s another day. He’s still here, damp wood against his back. A pillow beneath his head.

He knows the nightmare hasn’t stopped; Chrissy is still dead.

But there’s things he can touch, hold onto—evidence that he’s not been left alone, not really. He knows that Steve will come back. They all will.

His hands are warm.

And that’s something.

[charismawizard]

Thinking about Shauna and how she is so horrifically unfit to be a suburban mother, but wears the suit of it nonetheless. She has boxed herself into the life she believes Jackie would have had and will fight for it tooth and nail.

She has a terrible relationship with her daughter, but still tries to tuck her in at night with the toy she stole back at gun point. Her relationship was on the brink of unraveling, until her affair with Adam fell through and she realized Jeff could now see her wholly. She is so bored by suburbia, but on some level, still wants to believe she can be a part of it.

She is a caged animal who has clung to her own trap for so long, it has molded into her skin. She chews at the bars of her cage and its name is Jackie.

[thebearer]

I heard babies get like ear infections once their teeth pop in, and poor Teddy is so upset and she’s up all night, and can barely sleep until Nana Tina comes and helps

teddy is up. carmen's up. you're up. everyone's up because when teddy doesn't sleep, neither do you.

carmen would be a mother fucking wreck, ok? like worried beyond belief. she's teething, and crying, and the fucking pediatrician had the audacity to say "she's very uncomfortable" which made carmen want to throw up and cry at the same time because- why? why did she have to be uncomfortable? why did it make him feel like the world's biggest piece of shit?

tina notices that carmen's stressed. he's disheveled and sloppy and on edge and just over fucking whelmed.

"jeff, are you- are you good?"

"what?" carmen snaps, hand rubbing down his face. "yes, t, i'm ok. i'm fine. how's prep going?"

"it's good. got it done." tina says slowly, eyeing carmen. "the baby keeping you up?"

"tina, i really don't wanna talk about this right now." carmen huffs, lips twitching- tina knows he's upset.

"alright. well, look, if you need anything, carmen, you let me know. i can help if you'd like." tina offers and carmen thinks he might cry.

carmen's on the phone later in the office, head in his hands, knee bouncing while he talked quietly- everyone knew it was to you.

"i know, baby. i-i can try and see if pete could come? i could ask him?" carmen says lolwy. "i have to work. i've got big guests coming in tonight and a full night- no, no, no, no, please don't cry."

he's defeated, on the brink of crying himself. both of you are exhausted, overwhelmed, and everyone notices it- including tina.

"jeff," tina says, walking into the office. carmen's eyes are shining when they meet hers. "gimme the phone."

"what? no- no, baby, i'm talkin' to tina. chef, i'm on a personal call-"

"-give me the phone." tina says calmly.

"give her the fucking phone, carmen." your voice snaps in his ear, fed up and tired and emotional.

"mama, what's goin' on, huh? what's the matter?" tina's voice is a soothing balm over your shot nerves.

you tell her everything: the ear infection, the fever, the teething, the crying. tina nods. "ok, do you have rice?... ok, get a sock, put the rice in there, heat it up so it's warm, ok? then hold her upright and put it between both of you. if the doctor's already given you drops and medicine, that should help until that kicks in. you can massage her gums too, ok? just rub them a little, let her gnaw on them if you have to. it'll make her feel better, ok, mama?"

carmen wants to be annoyed, maybe he is, but when he comes home to find you sleeping- both of you sleeping, he wants to scream with pure joy, texting tina a thank you before collapsing next to you.

[fujobritta]

jeff winger girlflop . i hate him and i love him and i am so . normal about him . i feel so normal . on the brink of tears I Feel So Normal

[icarusbetide]

#save elizabeth schuyler hamilton from male biographers 2024

Just got pissed off so bad. I'm in the middle of reading Burr, Hamilton, and Jefferson: A Study in Character, which presents an intriguing argument that Burr deserves to be put back into the Founding Father Pantheon, so to speak. The author doesn't shy away from hitting hard against the idea that Jeff & Ham were morally superior to Burr, and I was on board! Ready to go!

But then. During the discussion of the women in each of their lives, the author decides the best way to further promote Burr's attitude towards women compared to Jefferson and Hamilton is to disparage Martha Jefferson & Elizabeth Hamilton?

On Martha Jefferson:

Martha Wayles Skelton had been a widow, and none of Jefferson's biographers, even the resourceful Fawn Brodie, has been able to tell us much about her—from the solitary letter remaining to us in her hand or the accounts of their contemporaries—beyond the general impression that she was handsome, musical, and frail.

On Elizabeth Hamilton:

Hamilton's Elizabeth was an heiress, the daughter of an upstate squire, Philip Schuyler, with Livingston and van Rensselaer connections. She was plain, straightforward, loyal, and neurasthenic, endured his flagrant and frequent infidelities, and lived to the brink of the Civil War.

I'm sorry, I don't know enough about Martha J. to protest to her characterization, but I think I can say something about Eliza. Plain? Neurasthenic? And once again, annoyed at the lack of citation or evidence for flagrant and frequent infidelities - but putting that aside, even if it were true, I don't like how her staying in her marriage is subtly implied to be some failure or at least less interesting than a woman who didn't "endure" them. There's a lack of consideration of both her own strength & the societal circumstances of that time that would have influenced her actions.

On Theodosia:

Her character emerges from their large and fervent correspondence. She was confident, well connected, well read, beautiful even after a burn scarred her face, witty, worldly, and full of expectations of him.

Okay. The author saw the point and it sailed over his head. "From their large and fervent correspondence" is key here. Like I said earlier, I don't know enough about Martha Jefferson, but I bet that "handsome, musical, frail" is probably not an all-encompassing picture of her. The similarity between her and Eliza? We don't have the letters that they wrote to their husbands. It's unfair to judge Theodosia (don't get me wrong! she was well read and intelligent, that's not what i'm denying) from her correspondence with Burr, but then not acknowledge that the lack of that perspective would impact how we view the other two women.

And to top it all off:

Unlike Jefferson's and Hamilton's, Burr's character was molded by the love of a woman of immense force and intelligence.

Neither Hamilton nor Jefferson married a woman who evidenced such force of character and independence of view.

Jesus Christ. There's plenty to criticize about Jefferson & Hamilton, and I really wanted to see a well-reasoned argument about Burr's character and whatnot but this lacks nuance and is unnecessarily dismissive. It pisses me off that a book that seems determined to break down the idolized version of Hamilton, somehow ends up using his wife to further their angle, just like biased Hamiltonian biographies. In both cases, Eliza is the plain, unintelligent, steadfast wife. For sympathetic authors like Chernow, that's somehow justification for the Reynolds affair. For Roger G. Kennedy, that's used in an argument against her husband. "Let's talk attitude towards women! Hamilton & Jefferson didn't have intellectual wives! Point for Burr!"

I don't know nearly enough about Martha Jefferson to say anything of merit, but really?

To give credit where credit is due, I think Kennedy is trying to make the point here that Theodosia Bartow Burr was a major influence on Burr, as "Burr's character blossomed in the radiance of his wife and mentor". He also goes on to talk about various genuine reasons why Burr's attitude towards women is noteworthy. But I still don't like the way he dismissed the other two women as what? Not smart enough to help their husbands' characters blossom? Maybe there's merit to this book outside of this one section, The Women, but right now I'm not in the mood. Am I being dramatic? Idk.

[crushedsweets]

SUCKER suckerrrr snap out of it by arctic monkeys is sooo ninakate suckerr trust

i'm so ill. my hands shake and crack as i imagine ninakate living out their life. give me a moment to process. as per usual, im writing this as if i was planning out a one-shot song-fic.

someone remind me to do this with kill the director eventually

ok to begin. the song is from kates perspective to nina.. im imagining its after theyve had their weird little 'meaningless' kisses. IN THIS STORY, SHE KINDA LINGERS BACK TO JEFF ON AND OFF... also this is mostly sad theres barely a good ending im sorry im sorry im sorry im sorry im sorry im sorry im sorry

nina is well integrated into the kate, clocky, toby, EJ friend group by this point. but every time she spends a few weeks trying to "work things out" with jeff, she's completely off in her own world. she withdraws from her friends, half cuz she's so focused on 'fixing' the doomed relationship and half cuz she's so embarrassed that she keeps going back and i think that shit is SOUL CRUSHING to kate. she hasn't had feelings for someone since . . . lauren . . . and she finally gets fragments of romance again, only for nina to constantly wander off after leading her on. also heavy on the 'fell in love, or near enough' cuz what nina and jeff has is not love 'i gotta tell you the truth' its eating kate alive. she doesnt really talk emotions and she never tells people what to do, but she just wants to scream bro.

i think toby, clocky, and ej have already exhausted themselves telling nina to give it up. EJ has tried gentle pieces of advice, clocky has bickered back and forth, and toby has outright screamed at nina to STOP GOING BACK TO HIM. and none of it did anything. but kate doesnt tell people what to do. the most she would do is raise a brow at nina and sigh and shake her head. i think this would eventually be a good bonding moment for kate and toby, where she confides in him about feeling like she missed her shot. toby tells her that she's never gonna 'miss her shot' ... especially w a girl as messy as nina...cuz evidently jeff did all that and still didnt miss HIS shot. LMFAO... but he'd encourage kate to get her shit together and just talk to nina about it. and for some reason nobody listens to tobys damn advice so kate just sits and waits.

ok this is just very straightforward. kate is constantly mulling over it and pissed and sad and bummed out. (oddly enough, tobys relieved to see her stressing over crushes instead of like.... being torn apart from the inside by a cryptic entity)

'it sounds like settling' down or givin' up, but it don't sound much like you, girl' OK i think this line works for kate AND nina.

toby would be saying something like this to kate. its kind of warped, cuz i think when kates in the chaser mode, she does not give up. she is persistent and she attacks with a goal. he's watched the chaser run to the brink of exhaustion, to the point where kate was bed ridden afterwards. SO WHY WOULD SHE GIVE UP ON SOMETHING AS SIMPLE AS A GIRL ?!?!?!

and in turn, kate would be thinking this towards nina. settling down doesnt seem like nina. giving up is also not like nina cuz she is also quite persistent until feelings fade... which frustrates kate cuz she gets stuck in this loop of 'even if she were to leave jeff, why would she settle for me? why would she stay with me? there's no point in getting deeper into this'

kate would eventually have to snap, as stories go. grabbing nina and confessing, going on about how fucking dumb nina is being. honestly, kate would probably accidentally choke out things she heard from EJ, clocky, and toby all scolding nina... which would either upset nina, or feel like a full circle moment where FINALLYYYYY all the shit that she's been told all this time has come together. and finally she can be like oh.... this is really embarrassing for me...... also oh my god wait

the idea of kate writing nina a letter. oh my god. wait. GUSY WAIT FUCK KATE WRITING NINA A LETTER WAIT FUCK FUCKKKKKKKKKKKK KATE WRITES HER A LETTER THATS CANON NOW IM SORRY IM SORRY IMSORRY

[idiotwithanipad]

So the Plague Ghosts and Robin?... They know NOW that it was Mick who accidentally brought the plague back to their village, but did they always think that? Is that the reason they remained in the basement of Button House? Because they feared Robin?

(Nah probably not, but here's a small one off thing I just wrote😂 got me thinking (which is deadly), the plague victims would be on the brink of death for weeks, so maybe they could catch glimpses of Robin during their final moments alive?)

(Trigger warning: Pus, Blood, Sickness, Death, Robin slander)

"It came back again last night..."

Maude rasped, her thrashed throat throbbing and oozing pus and blood. Jeff and Agnes sat idly at her bedside, cuffs covering their noses and mouths in a vein attempt to keep the unclean sickness away.

"What do you mean, 'it came back'? What 'came back'?" Agnes pried, the dim candlelit room creating eerily dancing shadows across the rocky walls, that, along with her friend's waxy, boil splattered face filled Agnes with a feeling of sickening unease.

"The figure. The one what brought with it the plague. It came back last night". Maude sounded more assertive in herself now, trying her best to raise her head from the straw pillow underneath her and raise a weak arm to point between Agnes and Jeff towards the door.

Their eyes followed her finger, landing on the low and crooked doorway which had been left open, revealing the blackness of the night beyond. Jeff and Magnes glanced at each other, unnearved yet sympathetic looks. Jeff's focus was quickly shifted back to Maude when she let loose with a thunderous cough, bringing up bile with it this time.

"It was here... I swear it!"

Almost shaking with dread, Agnes set her chattering jaw and leaned in closer to her dying friend.

"What figure? What did it look like? What did it do?!"

"Yeah, did it speak, did it tell you that it brought the plague 'ere?" Jeff chimed in.

"No. It moved through the door an' crouched down. It never once took it's eyes off me. It looked like a-...the face was-...it had uneven pelts slung over itself and it was as silent as the night... ". Agnes and Jeff could tell by the way that Maude's eyes flicked back towards the door and began to swell with tears that she was telling the truth.

Agnes pried some more, placing her hand atop Maude's wrist. Her voice temporarily filling with impatience.

"What did it's face look like?..."

Maude's tears finally slipped as she gazed up at Agnes, her spare hand quivering and coming to rest over Agnes's.

"Human, yet-...mishapen. Bulbous. Like a bulgin' tree root that's been stripped of all its bark. Sunken in eyes, covered in hair, mouth full of horrible teeth-". Maude's description of the figure came to an abrupt end, when she descended into another fit of whipping coughs and wretches.

Agnes wrenched her hand away and reeled back, Jeff took a small step back and placed his hands over Agnes's shoulders to steady her.

"Did it..do anythin' else?". Jeff intercepted.

Maude turned her head onto it's side, facing Jeff, spittle and blooded phlegm dripping from her lower lip and onto the uneven pillow.

"After a while-...it got up, and came to my bed. It kept it's eyes on me, never once did it blink. It just stared. It always stares. It moved it's head from side to side, real slowly, like when you try to focus on somethin' up close... "

Agnes and Jeff fell silent and awestruck, Jeff subconsciously shifting closer to Agnes each passing second, feeling more and more vulnerable with his back exposed to the still wide open door, or whatever watched from the outside.

"Then what?..." Agnes whimpered, trying to suppress the fear in her tight throat.

"I don' know". Maude wheezed.

"I looked at it for so long that the mere appearance of it turned me faint. Next thing I know, I'm wakin' up to the rooster crowin' outside and the sun up. I looked about the room but the figure was gone"

Maude's head dropped deeper into the pillow, her jaw falling slack and her eyelids begining to droop. Agnes and Jeff's eyes remained fixed on her, too stunned and fearful to ask her any more questions about this unholy creature, the creature that showed itself to Maude almost every night since she caught the plague, and the same creature that stood and the foot of the bed. Unseen. Unheard.

It's sunken eyes flicked and twitched as it stared at Maude's body slipping into slumber again. It leaned forward slightly and took a sniff of the air, the foul and diseased air that it would never breathe again.

She die soon. They all die soon. Can see it all around. One die, then another die... Until all gone.

[litrpgburrito]

The best LITRPG series on Audible 2024

The Ultimate LitRPG Series You Can’t Miss on Audible

Are you ready to embark on an adventure that merges the thrill of gaming with the joy of reading? Look no further than the Literary Role Playing Game (LitRPG) genre, where every listen is a level-up for your imagination. Today, we’re diving into the best-tested LitRPG series available on Audible that have captivated listeners with their immersive worlds, intricate game mechanics, and compelling narratives.

He Who Fights with Monsters by Shirtaloon, aka Travis Deverell Begin your LitRPG journey with the story of Jason, who finds himself whisked away from his mundane life to a realm where interdimensional travel and adventure are the new normal. Narrated by Heath Miller, this series is a perfect entry point for newcomers to the genreAd1.

The Primal Hunter by TheFirstDefier, aka JF Brink Follow Jake’s transformation from an everyday guy to a formidable apex hunter in a post-apocalyptic world where leveling up is a matter of survival. With each installment, the stakes get higher, and the action more intenseAd1.

Dungeon Crawler Carl by Matt Dinniman Narrated by Jeff Hays, this series takes you on a reality show-style dungeon crawl that’s as perilous as it is peculiar. Carl, along with his sassy sentient cat, will keep you hooked with his wit and tenacity2.

Shadeslinger (The Ripple System, Book 1) by Kyle Kirrin For those seeking a LitRPG experience that pushes boundaries, The Ripple System series is a must-listen. It combines traditional RPG elements with a futuristic virtual reality gaming setting, creating a narrative that’s rich with character development and game-world intricacies2.

Defiance of the Fall by TheFirstDefier, aka JF Brink Immerse yourself in a meticulously crafted post-apocalyptic Earth where humans must adapt and level up to survive. The detailed game mechanics and Pavi Proczko’s immersive narration will make you feel like you’re right alongside the protagonist, Zac, in his battles against monsters2.

These series are just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to LitRPG on Audible. With new titles being released regularly, there’s always a fresh quest waiting for you. So plug in your headphones, hit play, and let these audiobooks transport you to worlds where your next level-up is just around the corner.

Happy listening, and may your mana never run low!

[ageofhearingloss]

Pick Yourself Up Pt. 2 | Jake Kiszka

a/n: y'all got homework! mandatory listening assignment to accompany this part:

this is a major plot point in this part of the story😎 y/n makes an appearance, but i really want this story to be about jakey so this is not my normal writing from y/n's pov. i'm really happy with how it turned out, and even more excited for where this story is headed!!!! as always, let me know what yall think xoxoxoxo

here's pt. 1

summary: after years of trying to make his dream of being a musician a reality, jake continues to fall short. on the brink of giving up, can his passion alone keep him afloat, or will he need help from others?

pairing: jake kiszka x fem reader

warnings: language, angst (although this part is much happier than the last) , alcohol consumption, light themes of depression and possible eating disorder

word count: 6.9k lol

“Ma, for the millionth time, I’m okay. Really,” Jake assured, phone held between his ear and his shoulder as he struggled to set a couple dirty plates in the sink, “I don’t know why that asshole called you.”

“Josh called me because he’s worried about you, honey, and so am I. You promised me you’d call me every week and I haven’t heard from you in a month.”

He let out a deep sigh; Josh only ever got Karen involved when he deemed the situation drastic enough. It was true, though. He hadn’t reached out to his mother for a while now and that alone was cause for her to worry. It’s not that he didn’t want to talk to her, but it was the same reason that he couldn’t face his brothers: he didn’t want for her to see the truth of how he was living. Sure, he was close with Karen, but he never had the relationship that Josh had with her and because of that, it was easier for him to hide from her. 

“Look, I’m sorry, I’ve just been… busy-”

“With gigs?” she questioned innocently, “How are they going?”

Jake didn’t see the use in hiding the truth from her further but he paused, thinking about the correct way to imply how he was doing without saying it outright. 

“Jakey?”

“Uh, they’re not going so hot, Mom, if I’m being honest,” he said as he straightened up over the sink, bringing a free hand to the back of his neck, letting a shaky breath escape from his lips. “Just kind of same old, same old.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, honey. How so?”

“No one is biting, I guess. I play the same gigs nearly every week in hopes that the consistency will land me in front of the right eyes and ears, but nothing’s happening,” Jake explained, closing his eyes before continuing, “Barely making any money these days, either. It’s been a real drag. I’m feeling a bit hopeless.”

Shit, that part wasn’t supposed to come out. 

His mother was silent on the other line, surely waiting for him to continue. He was half expecting her to begin down the road that she always went down; how he was the most talented kid she’s ever heard, how he just needs to continue to be patient, but it never came. He listened to her breathing before he finally asked, “Mom?”

He was then met with sniffles from the other line. Fuck, is she crying? 

“Ma, hello?”

“My baby, I didn’t know you were struggling like this,” Karen began, voice wobbly as she spoke. “This has been your dream since you could walk, I assumed that since I hadn’t heard from you that meant it was finally coming true.” 

Damn.

“I know Josh probably told you to keep going and be patient. He’s always been right when it comes to giving you advice. Whatever he said, I’m sure I agree,” she continued. “What do you need, Jakey? Should I come down to see you? Do you have groceries? I can-”

He laughed before cutting her off, “No, Mom, really I’m okay. I swear. Plus, I’ll be home soon enough for Dad’s birthday.”

“Are you sure, baby? Josh mentioned to me that you’re looking a little…” she hesitated before finishing her thought. “I’m going to send you some food whether you like it or not.”

That bastard really sees through everything, doesn’t he? 

Jake knew that he had been disregarding his health recently, but his mind was elsewhere. And he absolutely hadn’t realized that it had gotten so bad that his physical appearance had shifted, but of course his twin was able to detect any subtle changes before Jake saw them himself. Trying to scrounge up the money for monthly expenses had become increasingly difficult; he couldn’t remember the last time he had been to the grocery store. 

Before he could respond, his phone began beeping signifying he was getting another call. 

Sam. 

“Hang on, Mom, Sam’s calling me. I’ll talk to you later, okay? Love you.”

“Alright honey, call me when you can. Watch your front door for groceries! I love you!”

After briskly disconnecting the call, he answered Sam with a meek, “Hello?”

“Can’t believe you actually picked up. That’s the first time in weeks!” Sam laughed out, his cheery, sarcastic tone palpable through the phone. 

“Sorry man, I’m trying to get better at that. What’s up?”

“Well, Josh clued me in that he had given you some instructions and knowing that you don’t have a gig tonight, I believe you are contractually obligated to go out with me and Daniel. Josh will be joining us at some point, too.”

Jake took a sharp inhale through his nose. Truthfully, he was nervous to begin socializing with his brothers again. He had grown accustomed to being by his lonesome; he didn’t particularly enjoy it and was lonely most of the time, but at least he could be his authentic self and process his emotions freely without the eyes of others watching him. He racked his brain for a sufficient way to decline his little brother's offer, an excuse that would seem legitimate enough for Sam to believe. 

“Sam, I-”

“Remember, you can’t say no!” Sam yelled through the phone, partnered with a poor attempt at a maniacal laugh. 

Jake closed his eyes once more, bringing his fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose. He knew he would never hear the end of it from any of his brothers if he declined yet another invitation.

“All right, asshole, I’m in.”

Jake could hear Sam hollering on the other line, seemingly pulling the phone away to tell who he assumed to be Daniel, “The fucker said yes! Can you believe it!” Then, speaking directly into the phone,

“Meet us at Robert’s at 8pm, and don’t be late! Oh, and bring your guitar!”

The phone disconnected with a swift click, leaving Jake to wonder just what trouble his brothers had in store for him tonight. I think Robert’s is that place I’ve been trying to play at for months now…

He looked around his apartment and thought to himself, “Man, this place is disgusting. You really let yourself go.” He continued collecting dirty dishes from all corners of his home, placing them in the sink before cranking the faucet and filling the basin with warm, soapy water. It’d only been a couple days since his talk with Josh, and he found himself surprised that his brother's words had affected him as much as they had. There was hope in his heart, even if it was just a small glimmer, but he felt compelled to begin trying again. To make an effort to show up for his brothers, but also for himself. 

A couple hours later, the dishes had been dried and put away, garbage collected and taken down to the dumpster behind the building. He even took the time to wipe down his counters and finally change the lightbulbs in the hanging lamp that illuminated his kitchen. To keep him company while he worked, he put on his favorite records, something that again he hadn’t done in what felt like months. He let the familiar songs soothe him, his mind lulled into a comfortable rhythm. Humming along as he worked, he began to realize that he felt the most at ease he’s felt in ages; his head was free from the heavy thoughts that have been clouding his brain for the better part of a year, the tension in his shoulders beginning to feel a little less tight. Sure, he still felt the gravity of his situation, but having the motivation to clean himself up a bit was a new, welcome change. All thanks to Josh, that fucker. 

Cleaning out the fridge, he was startled by the sound of his doorbell buzzing. Throwing on the pair of beat up Birkenstocks, he made his way through the door and ran down the stairs to be met with a grocery delivery. He picked up the large cardboard box, hauling it upstairs and setting it on the kitchen counter. He noticed a note from Karen lay on the top as he opened the box:

Take care of yourself, sweetie. Can’t wait to see you soon. 

Love, Mom

He smiled to himself, carefully placing the note next to the box before digging through it, noticing how she sent him all his favorite foods. He put the groceries away swiftly, and as he closed the door to the fridge he caught sight of the clock on the stove, 7:46pm.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath before running to his room to throw more presentable clothes on, grabbing his guitar case on his way out the door. Sam had told him not to be late. 

~~~~~~

Y/N POV

“Yeah, yeah, Caitlyn, 7:45 sharp. I got it,” you said as your phone was snug between your cheek and your shoulder, bringing your bags and equipment down to your car. It was nearing 6pm; you and your bandmates had a local gig tonight at a bar that you frequented. 

“Just please don’t be late like last time! This gig is actually really important, and we’ve only got 15 minutes to get set up,” your drummer explained, concern and anticipation evident in her tone. 

“I’m sorry I was late last time, Cait, I promise I won’t be again!” You slammed the trunk of your car shut with your free hand, “You know I’m not usually like that.” She knows I was having car trouble… 

“I know, tonight is just nerve wracking. I’m kinda freaking out. The whole open mic thing… who knows who’s gonna be there.”

“I can tell! But it’s gonna be fine. I’m heading to Jen's now to make some last minute tweaks to her solo. I’ll see you soon!”

You said goodbye to your friend before shoving your phone back in your pocket. Not too long ago, you and your childhood friends had set out to Nashville to live out your dream of making it as musicians. You had all been playing together for longer than you could remember, the band falling into your lap without any real amount of effort. Caitlyn, your neighbor growing up, was a force to be reckoned with on drums, Jen, your best friend since kindergarten, on guitar, and your cousin, Tyler, holding it down on the bass. You had been chosen as the lead vocalist before you truly knew how to sing, but once falling into the role, you took your job incredibly seriously, taking as many voice lessons as you physically could to solidify your now resonant and skilled voice. 

The four of you hit the ground running once getting to Tennessee, and somehow luck had been on your side, managing to play for the right group of people and now you had your first EP out, working to get your debut album out after having signed with a label. You were confident in your abilities and even more confident in your sound, having pushed many other priorities aside to focus on this career that you had set in motion with your friends. 

After climbing in the driver's seat and twisting the ignition, you blasted the AC in your car. Who knew how long it would take for you to get used to the southern heat. It was only a short drive to Jens, something the two of you made sure of when you were looking at apartments, and as you drove you began humming possible riffs for her to try out on the new song you’d be debuting tonight. 

She ushered you inside her place quickly upon your arrival, clearly anxious about your performance tonight. 

“Cait is totally getting to me. I wasn’t nervous at all until she called me a couple minutes ago,” she fussed, leading you into her makeshift home studio and slinging her guitar strap over her head, walking over to the amp and plugging in. 

You chuckled, digging your own acoustic out of its case, “I really think it’s going to be great! We’ve been rehearsing day in and day out, and we’ve played this bar before so at least that bit isn’t new.”

“I think she’s nervous because they asked her to be the drummer for the open mic that’s happening after our set. They’re paying her good money so she didn’t turn it down, but you know how she is.”

Oh shit, I didn’t know that part. 

“Did they ask you or Tyler to stick around, too?” You realized that tonight may be a bigger deal than you had originally thought. 

“Nah, it sounded like they already had a guitarist, and I think they have someone on both electric and upright bass. We’re going to stick around for Cait’s sake, but who knows, we might hear some good shit tonight,” she said, pulling her hair out from under the guitar strap and throwing it over her shoulder, “Now, show me what you’ve been thinking about.”

You beamed at her, situating your guitar on your knee before strumming out the ideas you had come up with.

End of y/n POV

~~~~~~

“An open mic?” Jake spat out at Sam, grasping his brother's forearm tightly. “You shithead, why did you bring me to this place?”

Sam was howling with laughter as he yanked out of Jake’s grip, leading him to the table where Danny and Josh sat, somehow already inebriated, whooping and hollering once Jake was in their line of sight. Jake reluctantly plopped down in a chair beside his twin, facing the tiny stage in the corner of the bar that was illuminated by soft overhead floodlights. Nonchalantly swirling his whiskey in its highball glass, he glanced around the bar. So this is Robert’s… 

It looked like any other dive bar, but a little tidier. The walls were painted a dark crimson with neon beer signs and vintage pinup posters consuming every inch of space. The booths were made of brown, worn leather, the floors a warm hardwood. He took inventory of the instruments already set up on stage, and noticed the upright bass snug in the corner. Maybe this wouldn’t be a waste of his time after all. 

Josh nudging his shoulder caught his attention.

“I’m really glad you're here, it means a lot,” Josh slurred, just above a whisper that only Jake could hear. 

A slight grin graced his lips as he shrugged before Josh continued, “Did you talk to Mom?”

“Yeah, I talked to her,” Jake replied, jabbing his elbow into his brother's ribs, “thanks for ratting me out. She was all worried and shit. Even sent me groceries.”

Josh shook his head, a cheesy smile plastered to his face accompanied by a pink flush of his cheeks, surely due to the alcohol in his system, “Sorry, man, but you looked like crap! I had to tell her!”

Jake couldn’t help but match his brother's smile; he was beginning to feel true gratitude for all three of them. He was realizing exactly how much they cared for him, willing to carry his burden on their shoulders in any way they knew how. He glanced over to Danny and Sam where they were having their own conversation, and he couldn’t help but feel his heart swell, an emotion that was only supplied when he was spending time with his brothers. 

Danny caught his eyes for a split second and offered him a tight smile; Jake hadn’t apologized to him yet. 

Tonight, if I can find time alone with him. I need to do better. He knew he potentially hurt Danny more than any of his other brothers, and there was still a piece of him too swollen with pride to completely let himself admit just how badly he had fucked up. Before he let himself get too much in his head, something that Josh consistently warned him about, he cleared his throat to gain the attention of the group. 

“Alright, Sammy boy, wanna tell us why we’re here? And why I needed my guitar?” He accompanied the question with a raised eyebrow, inclining his glass towards Sam. 

“Well, brother, if you would be patient for just a couple minutes, we’re here to see a band and they should be starting any second now,” Sam replied, clasping his hands together. “The lead singer is a waitress at my restaurant. She told everyone their band had a gig here tonight,” he explained, taking a second to glance around the bar, searching the crowd, “but it looks like I’m the only asshole who bothered to show up!”

“I’ve heard them play before, they’re pretty good! And her voice is unbelievable,” Daniel chimed in, eyes piercing Jake’s as he added, “I think you’re really gonna like her.”

Don’t tell me these assholes are trying to set me up. 

“Okay, but that doesn’t explain why-” 

Jake was cut off by the lights in the bar dimming, turning his attention again to the small stage to watch three musicians climb the few steps up to the platform. A tall brunette took her place behind the drumset, muscular arms and stoic features that seemed to be evident in every drummer he’s encountered. He observed the spritely woman with flowing hair plugging her cobalt guitar into the amp, throwing her wavy locks over her shoulder in the process, and a towering, lanky man who stood impossibly still as he clutched his bass guitar, a mysterious air around him, his eyes hidden behind dark aviator sunglasses. Each one different, surely bringing their own unique voices to the collective whole, but Jake could already tell that their chemistry would likely be unmatched. 

The three musicians checked their sound, the guitarists making sure their strings were in tune, before the lead vocalist made it onto the stage. And as Jake watched her ascend the steps, lights glistening off of her hair and bouncing off her features, his breath was stolen out of his chest. 

She took center stage, if he could even call it that with how confined the space was, and he watched with rapt attention as she adjusted the stand to her height and spoke a hushed “Check, check,” into the microphone. Her voice was low, sultry, alluring, and everything clicked into place as to why his brothers had brought him here tonight. His eyes were glued to the stage, however, oblivious to the three men observing him, smiles plastered wide across their faces upon realizing that they had been successful in their plan. 

She then turned around and spoke something to the rest of the band, all of them nodding and smiling in agreement before a light shuffle began sounding from the drumkit. They all fell into an easy groove, their sound a tempting soulful rock that only few could pull off these days, in Jake’s opinion. He couldn’t take his eyes off the singer as she turned back to the mic, her eyes closed and head softly lilting along rhythmically, an easy, almost lazy smile dancing across her face. 

Jake brought his glass up to his mouth as he leaned back in his chair, settling in for what he knew was about to be a fantastic set, but paused his actions as she stepped closer to the mic, drawing a breath as her eyes opened and the first note slipped past her lips. 

He was sure he looked ridiculous, glass held halfway between the table and his lips, eyes blown wide and mouth slightly agape, but he couldn’t find it within himself to care. He was entranced by her voice; his personal siren calling only to him, hypnotizing him. He watched as she effortlessly swayed, interacting with the other musicians she shared the stage with. She was completely in her element, no sense of anxiety or nervousness written in her complexion or any of her bandmates. She acknowledged the audience only a few times, graciously accepting their applause and smiling at Sam when he waved excitedly at her, only to flit her eyes around the rest of the table, pausing when she finally landed on Jake.

His breath caught again and he could hear his pulse pounding in his ears. For a fleeting moment, they were the only two in the dimly lit bar. 

All he could do was stare, and she held his eyes for longer than what would be deemed comfortable, but it seemed as though she couldn’t bring her eyes away from his, either. Only when she heard a familiar cue did she drop his heated gaze, returning to her revelry-like state as the band began another song. 

Jake caught himself blinking a few times in an effort to try to bring himself back to reality. He glanced briefly at his brothers sitting with him and cursed under his breath when he noticed all three of them already looking his way, knowing smiles evident on each of their lips. He was still clueless to the fact that they had been observing him all night long, not noticing Sam when he leaned over to whisper to Daniel or Josh, “I told you so!”

The set was about 45 minutes long, giving 15 minutes until the open mic started. An older man hopped onto the stage once the band was done, saying that there were still plenty of spots available and that the sign-up sheet was taped over on the bar. The four brothers were still huddled around the table when Sam popped up quickly to announce he was going to get them all another round, which none of them objected to, before hurrying over to the bar.

It was hard for Jake to turn off the voice in his head that was begging and pleading him to go back to the safety of his home, but he had to admit that listening to her sing had been well worth his time. And although he groaned at the thought of listening to whatever “nonsense” was going to be played at the open mic, there was no way he would turn down the opportunity to have the chance to talk to her once her and the rest of her band finished packing up their instruments. 

9 o’clock rolled around, fresh drinks arriving on the table as the brothers talked amongst themselves; it had been far too long since Jake had caught up with them. He learned about the upcoming movie Josh would be working on in the next couple months, always excited to hear his twin talk about something he was so passionate about. The first couple of acts had played their songs, none of them horrible but none of them garnering any of their attention, all too engrossed in each other's company.

Jake was right in the middle of hearing about the most recent tournament Daniel had been involved in when he heard his name being called.

“Jacob Kiszka and Y/f/n Y/l/n, come on down!”

What the fuck?

He panicked as he looked between his brothers, darting his eyes between them until he landed on the culprit, Sam. Of course it was Sam; his little brother was known for getting them into all types of trouble, saying that it was always easier to ask for forgiveness rather than permission. “Plus,” he would always say, “you guys have to admit that was pretty fun.”

Sam was already beaming, not faltering when Jake gritted at him through his teeth, 

“You motherfucker, what did you do?”

All Sam did was shrug and gesture towards Jake’s guitar case, not intimidated in the slightest by Jake’s blinding rage. 

I can’t play with her, let alone begin to think about what we could play together- His mind was running a mile a minute as he glanced between his guitar and Sam, cursing his brother to the high heavens.

Finally, Josh clapped his twin on the back and whispered, “Don’t you know it’s rude to keep a lady waiting?”

He finally looked to the stage where she already stood, a sheepish smile evident across her mouth as she waited for him to make up his mind.

How did she know it was me?

He then looked around the bar, noticing many eyes on him and a hush falling upon the crowd in preparation. 

Oh, idiot, she recognized your last name. She works with Sam.

Turning back to the stage, he saw that the drummer was seated behind her kit, and there was an older man picking up his upright bass that had been gently laying on its side, plucking the strings and tuning it ever so slightly. 

Jake squeezed his eyes shut and let out a deep sigh before opening them, bending over to grab his guitar case as he stood from his chair. Delighted applause erupted from the patrons of the bar, making him wince, and before he made his way over to the stage, he made it a point to menacingly tower over Sam who was still seated, grabbing the collar of his shirt and whispering a curt “We will talk about this later.”

He let go of Sam’s shirt with a little force, his brother laughing at him and cheering him on, knowing Jake’s threat was completely empty. 

Jake had to take a few calming breaths, in through his nose and out through his mouth, just like Josh taught him. He stalked towards the small stage, knuckles surely white from how tightly he was gripping the handle of his guitar case. He was all too aware of the eyes on him; he was used to performing and others watching him do so, but he always performed solo and on his terms. This was new territory for him, and it had his nerves blazing. 

Her eyes followed him as he climbed the couple of steps, and he met her gaze and gave her a shy smile as he passed behind her to the unoccupied side of the stage. He made quick work of unpacking, silently thanking his lucky stars that something had told him to bring his acoustic rather than electric. He plugged it into the amp that was sitting behind him, and continued to crouch with his back to the audience as he tuned his guitar quietly. Fortunately, those sitting out in the bar had begun to talk amongst themselves, effectively helping his nerves settle ever so slightly. 

As he stood, he looked to the other musicians, nodding to the drummer as she sent him a sweet smile, and the bassist who gave him a jovial thumbs up. He could feel the corners of his mouth turn upwards as he finally faced her. 

She was standing in front of the mic, neck turned to watch him make his way to the front of the stage, a grin still on her face but accompanied with an expectant, raised eyebrow.

Oh shit, that’s right. What are we going to play?

He paused once he reached the front of the stage, taking a moment to look between the musicians again, racking his brain as to what would fit their instrumentation best but better yet, what would do her voice justice. 

A smirk found his lips as he settled on a suggestion, feeling much more confident now that he had an idea. Jake found his feet taking him to her without a second thought, closing the short space that distanced them. She turned her body towards him, welcoming him with a warm smile, eager to hear what he was going to offer.

Only once he was truly in her presence did his nerves take the reins again. Her beauty was evident when he observed her from the crowd, but seeing her this up close was something else. His heart hammered in his chest once more as he realized that he got to hear her sing again, and better yet, got to hear her voice sing along with him. He let go of the neck of his guitar, the strap snug across his back, and wiped his clammy hands against his faded jeans in a gesture that could only suggest how anxious he truly was. 

Say something, damnit.

“Hi,” his voice cracked. 

Shoot me now. 

“Hey,” she chuckled out, thankfully not noting his aura of insecurity. She glanced to take a look at his guitar, his hands still resting on his thighs, and then brought her eyes to meet him again. He shifted his weight between his feet; why did she make him feel like a hormone-ridden teenager talking to a girl for the first time? His lips parted to speak again but was interrupted by her bringing her face closer to his, leaning to whisper in his ear,

“Seems like you have a song in mind.”

She retracted her head to stand upright before the mic stand once again, an expectant, but patient, look upon her face. 

Jake cleared his throat before leaning in to softly say, 

“Yeah, you know Lilac Wine?”

Her face flushed and she beamed an earth-stopping smile as she whispered back,

“Jeff Buckley or Nina Simone?”

“Can you play piano?”

She smirked and shook her head, “Not like Nina.”

He chuckled softly, “Me neither.” 

“Jeff Buckely it is, then.”

He backed away from her, inclining his head in confirmation, before making his way back to the drummer, asking her if the song was to her liking and she nodded excitedly, switching her drumsticks out for a pair of brushes. 

Y/n had gone over to the bassist, and he watched as the bassist put his hand on his chest, hopefully a sign of how much he loved the song. Jake looked between all the musicians, making his way back to his spot on the stage, saying loud enough just for the bassist to hear, “G Major.” The bassist winked, leaning his bass against his hip.

Jake watched as she made her way back to the front, only after exchanging a quick glance to her friend at the drums, the bassist, and then directing her stare to him. She gave him a slow nod, indicating that she was ready and waiting for Jake to begin. 

He fixed his attention back front, and took a deep breath as the crowd hushed, watching with bated breath for the music to begin. 

Jake inhaled deeply, exhaling as he strummed the one, solitary chord. And then he heard her voice.

“I lost myself on a cool, damp night,”

Jake heard a few whistles of exclamation from the crowd which caused a slight smile to form on his lips as he played the next, slow chord,

“I gave myself in that misty light,”

He couldn’t help but shift his position to face her, only to realize that she already watched him, her head turned just enough so she could still sing into the microphone. 

“Was hypnotized by a strange delight,” she sang, a sultry smirk gracing her lips as the lyrics came out,

“Under a lilac tree.”

Jake watched her with rapt attention, knowing that it was his cues she was waiting for, and even though his heart was racing in his chest just by the fact that she was staring at him, he wouldn’t let that hinder his performance. 

His strumming picked up as she sang the next couple lines, her voice seeming to rumble through the speakers as she sang the line before the chorus, 

“Because, it brings me back you,”

Jake turned to the bassist and gave a cue, letting him know it was time for him to join even though he was sure he already knew that. The rhythm section set the perfect slow, sleepy tempo to paint the mood of the song, and Jake felt overjoyed to be in the company of such talented musicians. It had been a long time since he played with others, and he forgot how great it felt to collaborate. 

The four musicians were feeding off of each other's energy, the song going off without a hitch considering he didn’t know them at all. He locked eyes with his mystery girl, y/n, he remembered, for the majority of the song, her voice tugging at his heart strings and filling the air with nearly palpable warmth. He knew the song would sit perfectly in her register, but he couldn’t have imagined how beautiful it truly sounded coming from her lips. Her voice would stay with him for a long time; he had never heard a voice quite as unique as hers.

He had to play with her again. 

~~~~~~

The song finished all too quickly. Jake had completely forgotten about the audience he stood before, completely enthralled by her voice and the musicians he was playing alongside. Only until he heard Sam’s cheers cut through the applause was he brought back to the moment, focusing his gaze forward to the sea of clapping hands. 

For once, he didn’t have to fake the smile that graced his face. In fact, he didn’t have to think about it at all. Jake was beaming, graciously nodding to the patrons of the bar before his eyes landed on his brothers, clapping excitedly and more obnoxiously than anybody else. It was Josh he lingered on though, his twin giving him a smile that seemed to absolve every insecurity, every heavy weight plaguing him. Before Jake knew it, he was placing his hand over his heart, hoping to convey the immense gratitude he had for his brother, Josh mirroring the action not a moment later. 

Jake ripped his gaze away from his band of brothers and turned to the musicians he just played with, all of them eagerly meeting in the middle of the stage to congratulate each other on a job well done. The drummer, he learned, was named Caitlyn, and she gave him a celebratory firm whack on the back that made him chuckle. The bassist introduced himself as Max and instructed Jake to find him later so they could exchange information. “I can tell you’re a talented kid; it’s not very often I meet a guitarist who truly knows his guitar like the back of his hand,” Max had said, shaking Jake’s hand with a vice-like grip. 

Jake turned to Y/n to say something, anything, but as he opened his mouth he heard the next band called out over the mic, effectively ushering them off stage. Her eyes twinkled, though, and she grasped his shoulder as she inclined her head over to the bar, silently asking him to meet her there. He gave her a shallow nod, not able to keep himself from smiling at her. 

Jake scampered off stage, leaving Y/n to talk with her band as he went over to the table where his brothers sat, waiting for his return. Once Sam saw him approaching, he leapt up off his chair, bringing his brother into an excited embrace that Jake was not all too eager to reciprocate. 

“Oh come onnnnn, you can’t still be mad at me! We all saw you up there!” Sam laughed out, still clutching Jake’s shoulders. 

Jake rolled his eyes, once again not able to hide the smile that was on his face, “Watch me.”

Danny clapped for him from his seated position at the table, giving Jake the most genuine smile he’d received since his fight with him, saying “Brilliant, as always.” Jake shrugged it off, all too aware of the words that continued to be unspoken, but still feeling that this was not his opportunity to apologize. Finally, Josh stood from the table, placing a hand between Jake’s shoulder blades. 

“I think you found it, brother.”

Glancing into Josh’s eyes, he felt all of the words his twin didn’t need to say out loud. All he could do was nod. He agreed; even though he was mere accompaniment, it hadn’t felt that good to play his guitar in a very long time. The feeling of adrenaline, of pride in his abilities, had been lost for months, and he forgot just how addicting the feeling of his calloused fingers against the steel strings could be. Maybe his passion was starting to come back, and it sent a pang to his heart to know that Josh had somehow seen that from the 10 minutes he spent on the stage.

Jake glanced over to the bar, seeing Y/n casually chatting with the bartender. Josh followed his gaze, dropping his hand away from his brother's back and returned to his seat. Jake took a deep breath, trying to figure out what he was going to say, not registering that he was already making his way over to the bar. In the distance, he heard Sam yell, “Jakey! She likes gin!” but all he could do was give his little brother a dismissive wave of his hand from over his shoulder. 

He grinned to himself, logging away the bit of information. Don’t meet too many gin fans these days. 

“So, Jacob,” she said, swirling her straw around the glass of her gin and tonic. His name tumbling from her lips felt like a bolt of lightning through his system. 

His smile was bashful as he glanced down at his own drink, trying to keep his composure as he assured that she could call him ‘just Jake.’ Their conversation flowed effortlessly; he learned all about her band and the members within it, as well as how she could handle Sam as her boss. She asked him a multitude of questions, as well, but he couldn’t think about himself at the moment. Any chance he had to think about his own life sent his mind swirling in a downward spiral, so he would deflect the question back to her, genuinely interested in the words she had to say. He found out that she, too, was from the Midwest, both of them commiserating about the heat before he felt a tap on his shoulder. 

Jake turned around to see an older man, probably in his 50s, standing behind him, a knowing smile on his face that immediately put Jake at ease.

“Jacob, right? I’m Robert,” he held out his hand, Jake quickly taking it into a handshake, his eyes wide. 

Why the hell is the owner talking to me? 

“I heard you play, you have a really great sound. You a solo musician?”

Jake flickered his eyes between Robert, Y/n, and then over to the table where his brothers sat, before responding, “Yeah, I mostly do solo shows,” he beamed, "It’s really nice to meet you, Robert. I’ve heard so much about this place, it’s great.”

Robert laughed as he thanked Jake, the older man asking a few more questions about Jake’s situation as Y/n sat and listened, a lopsided smirk on her lips. 

“Well, Jacob, I’d love to have you regularly play at the bar. The crowd seemed to love your sound, as did I,” he said, pulling out a business card from his back pocket. “Please feel free to email me if you’re interested.”

Jake blinked a couple times before gently taking the card from Robert's hands. He heard about many great musicians passing through this bar; it was a family-owned place, ownership being passed down from generation to generation, helping artists get off the ground and into the spotlight. Jake met Robert’s eyes again, smiling from ear to ear as he shook the man's hand once more, thanking him and assuring him that he’d be hearing from Jake very soon. 

Once Robert walked away, Y/n chimed in, “He’s a really good guy, but doesn’t interact with a lot of people much. From what I know, he hardly invites anyone to play here. You should count yourself lucky.” She winked at him, a smile evident on her face before bringing her straw to her lips. 

“Your band plays here all the time, did Robert contact you guys?”

“Nope,” she shook her head, “he’s friends with Jen’s dad. Her dad called in a favor, got us our first gig here. Thankfully, everyone liked our music enough that we were invited back.”

Almost as if she were summoned, Jen called Y/n’s name from across the bar, beckoning her over and signifying that the band was heading out. 

Y/n turned back to Jake with an apologetic look, “Looks like it’s my time.”

Jake gave a soft smile, glancing at his watch and realizing that already an hour had gone by, the open mic long abandoned. He flickered his eyes back up to hers, “When can I hear you sing again?” 

He felt the air leave his lungs as he watched her blush at his words, but she regained her composure quickly before holding out her palm. She was so sure of herself, an air of confidence around her that he was envious of. If she had any insecurities, she would never let the world know. 

“Can I have your phone?”

“Sure,” he fumbled around for it in his pocket, “what for?”

Her smile only grew at his oblivious question, “So I can give you my number. Maybe you can call me and ask when our next gig is,” she wiggled an eyebrow as she added her number to his contacts. 

“There,” placing his phone back in his grasp, “don’t be a stranger.” In a gesture that was over before it began, she leaned in close and gave him a chaste peck on his cheek before sliding off her bar stool and making her way through the crowd.

He sat and watched her as she greeted her friends, completely dumbfounded. He’d lost track of how many times she had stolen his breath that night, and as he glanced down at his phone that lay waiting in his palm, he brought his other hand to faintly stroke where her lips had grazed his cheek. 

Jake’s heart faltered.

Lilac. 

To be continued....

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[plethoraworldatlas]

The U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service today removed two Channel Islands plants from the endangered species list because they have successfully recovered.

The island bedstraw and Santa Cruz Island dudleya live only on two of the Northern Channel Islands off the coast of Santa Barbara. They were imperiled because of grazing, trampling and soil erosion caused by sheep and feral pigs introduced to the islands, and were protected under the Endangered Species Act in 1997. Sheep and pigs were subsequently removed from the islands which allowed both rare plants to expand and has benefitted the entire island ecosystem.

“The Endangered Species Act rescued these two unique California plants,” said Jeff Miller, a senior conservation advocate with the Center for Biological Diversity. “The Act is our most effective tool for bringing endangered plants and wildlife back from the brink of extinction with a 99% success rate in recovering species under its protection.”

Island bedstraw is a 3-foot-tall woody shrub with small greenish-white flowers that lives only on Santa Cruz and San Miguel islands. It’s increased from 19 known sites and around 500 to 600 individual plants in 1997, to 42 sites with more than 15,700 individual plants in recent surveys.

Santa Cruz Island dudleya, also known as Santa Cruz Island liveforever, is a succulent perennial known to live in only one area on the westernmost tip of Santa Cruz Island. Since receiving protections under the Act and the removal of sheep and pigs, the population has fluctuated between 40,000 to 200,000 individuals. The population has stabilized at 120,000 plants with an increase in distribution around the island.

Botanists have begun conservation banking of both plants’ seeds and the Service has developed a monitoring plan to ensure the plants continue to thrive. This is especially important for the Santa Cruz Island dudleya, which inhabits a single area that’s vulnerable to sea-level rise caused by climate change.

[the-time-lord-oracle]

When watching the first 11 episodes of Thunderbirds series 1, it's worth paying close attention to the radio equipment behind Jeff's desk, as it provides a clue as to which scenes were filmed for the original 25 minute versions of the episodes and which were filmed later to extend them to 50 minutes.

Originally, the radio equipment was unlabelled, and appeared in this form for the first 16 episodes (Trapped in the Sky to Edge of Impact.) When watching the first 11 episodes (Trapped in the Sky to Brink of Disaster), if you see the equipment in this form, that means it's footage shot for the original 25 minute cut of the episode.

During filming of Desperate Intruder, which was the 17th episode of series 1 in production order, the radio equipment was modified by the addition of a label reading "Auto Transmission Unit". This label is black with white lettering and appears in Desperate Intruder and 30 Minutes After Noon, plus additional material for Sun Probe, The Uninvited and Operation Crash-Dive, indicating that the additional footage for those episodes were shot at the same time as Desperate Intruder and 30 Minutes After Noon. Compare the two screenshots from Operation Crash-Dive below. In the left screenshot, there's no label, meaning that scene was shot for the original 25 minute cut, while the label can be seen in the right screenshot, indicating that it was additional material shot later to extend the episode.

After filming of 30 Minutes After Noon, the radio equipment underwent another modifiction.

The black label was replaced with a silver plaque with black lettering prior to the filming of The Imposters, and appeared in this form throughout The Imposters, The Man from MI.5, Cry Wolf, Danger at Ocean Deep, The Duchess Assignment and Attack of the Alligators, plus additional material for City of Fire, Vault of Death and Move-And You're Dead.

Prior to the filming of The Cham-Cham, the radio equipment underwent yet more modifications, with the Auto Transmission Unit plaque replaced by one reading "Auxiliary Controls" and a pair of red lights labelled as "Security Alert" added to the console. These modifications appeared in The Cham-Cham and Security Hazard, plus additional material filmed for Martian Invasion, which was shot simultaneously with Security Hazard.

So to sum up, paying close attention to the radio equipment will reveal which scenes come from the original 25 minute cuts of the first 11 episodes and which were filmed later to extend them to 50 minutes. If you can see the Auto Transmission Unit/Auxiliary Controls labels, then it's additional material.