#advanced beer theory

[inbabylontheywept]

"Yeah, sure, and I shit thermite. Be serious."

So. Maybe, he’d gone a little overboard after work that day. He’d admit that. Drinking the sad away wasn’t the most mature way to handle things, but when you got a letter from your dad saying-

Well saying that, you know, maybe it was okay to have a beer or two. In theory. In practice, that meant that two-beers-deep Earl had to somehow have enough willpower to say “naw, I don’t wanna become three-beers-deep Earl,” and then three-beers-deep Earl’s gotta say no to four-beers-deep Earl, and it’s just a bit of a shitshow from there.

Pardon the french.

At least he wasn’t on the clock. The worst thing that should’ve happened to him was waking up tomorrow with a fatass headache and upset friends. Instead, he was in the hospital, surrounded by men with guns, osmotically absorbing the most surreal conversation of his life.

���We’d heard that humans had remarkable healing abilities but this is incredible. Anyone else here would be dead, he’s just showing some signs of esophageal irritation.”

“We got any idea of the culprit?”

“We’re looking over security footage but the culprit must be some kind of ghost. We’ve gone over the security footage at least twenty times, nobody can spot a thing.”

Earl couldn’t help it. He spoke.

“What are you talking about?”

The detective and the doctor jumped at the sound of his voice.

“What the shit-

The doc’s hand went over the detective's mouth, cutting off the oath just a hair too late. The duo looked after each other, before the detective gestured for the doctor to go first.

“I… don’t have very much experience with humans. We thought it’d be a couple of days at least before you woke up. How are you feeling?”

Earl coughed a few times.

“Throat’s raw, head’s pounding, and would kill for anything fried in grease. Pretty standard hangover.”

The detective cut in at that.

“Eh, except for the part where someone poisoned you.”

Earl shrugged.

“Must not have been very good poison.”

The lawman didn't laugh.

“Hydrochloric acid mixed with potassium salts? You can bet your pink ass it’s a good poison. Anyone else here would be dying from a hole in their gut. You been making enemies on the station, colony-boy?”

Earl’s smart alec remark froze as his one semester of biology 101 clawed its way to the front of his brain.

“Oh.”

The detective clicked his pen, ready to start taking notes, even as Earl waved him off.

“No crime here doc, my stomach makes that stuff naturally.”

The doctor blinked even as the detective rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, and I shit thermite. Be serious pal, there’s someone here out to get you.”

Earl held his gaze, and after a few moments, the detective’s annoyed face transformed into numb confusion.

“...Hot damn, you aren’t joking. You’re telling me you can spew concentrated acid on a whim?”

The question hit a little close to him, and Earl felt his ears burn.

“Eh… not… on a whim. More like, after six or seven beers.”

The doctor grabbed a pad and began filling out forms of his own.

“Yeah, we’re gonna have to make sure you don’t do that then. You can’t just go around creating chemical waste every time you get sad. I’m going to have to get in contact with IT, set up some kind of cut off point with the cantina for you.”

Someone down the hall must’ve sanitized something because the odor of strong alcohol wafted into the room. It was all Earl could do to not empty his stomach a second time.

“Aye. That’s fair.”

[darkmaga-returns]

Nuclear scientist Digby Macdonald has sparked controversy by labeling global warming a “depopulation hoax,” asserting that carbon dioxide (CO2) does not primarily drive temperature changes. In a bold challenge to mainstream climate narratives, he argues that rising temperatures precede CO2 increases, undermining claims of human-driven climate change.

During a recent episode of EpochTV’s Bay Area Innovators, Macdonald explained his theory using the analogy of a carbonated drink: as temperature rises, the drink releases CO2 faster, causing it to go flat. He contends this natural sequence of events in the environment suggests that global warming is being misrepresented to serve ulterior motives, calling for a reevaluation of climate science assumptions.

Epoch Times reports: “That’s the very reason why you put your beer in a refrigerator,” he said. “If you want the fizzy drink to be tangy … you put it in the refrigerator so the CO2 remains in the drink.”

Macdonald said one of the reasons for the change in climate is the Milankovitch cycle—the regular variations in the elliptical path the earth travels around the sun.

He said that cycle changes every 100,000 years and an ice age occurs when it’s the most elliptical because the earth is receiving a lot less solar radiation and heat.

This cycle, combined with the earth’s wobble and sunspot activity, are the drivers of climate, he said.

“There’s nothing that you and I can do about that,” Macdonald said. “That’s okay, because if we rely upon the historical record, we go through these maxima and minima.”

He said during the Roman period it was one of the maxima, in which temperatures were about two to four degrees higher than now, and there was a large advance in civilization.

He said the changes can be traced in history, which shows the temperature has swung all over the place.

[cmdrfupa]

Never touched a beer in his life with a 4.0 Nanami x Party girl with a 4.0 reader.

Academic rivals. Until he falters.

He needs help understanding advanced music theory and you just so happen to be the only person willing to put up with his neurotic tendencies to get him the grade.

Idk idk idk idk. Just thinking.

[godlygreta]

god is fair | j. t. kiszka

title | god is fair

word count | 7.7k

warnings | swearing, mentions of alcohol - nothing too terrible... yet ;)

author's note | i've had this in the chamber for some time now, i just lost the inspo to write, which is why i haven't in a long time. this isn't a promise that i'll post more fics as they come to me, seeing as i'm a senior in college who has a fuck ton of other things to do. there will be a part 2 to this fic, but i couldn't tell you when it's coming :)

also, very much so listening to god is fair, sexy nasty by mac miller while writing this & starting the next part, so take that as you will ;)

unedited as hell so pls excuse any mistakes !

You always had this rivalry since the beginning of freshman year. This guy, Jake, would never show up to any of the classes the two of you had together, but always got the highest grades on every single goddamn exam that your Intro to Bio professor gave out. It infuriated you.

You figured that in the spring semester, you would be freed from the disappearing boy, but you weren’t. While the teacher called roll, everyone shouted out here. She landed upon his name, calling out to the class and looking through the rows of students. He had been there for orientation, sitting in one of the middle rows, slouched in his seat.

You planned to confront him the next day you had class together, on Wednesday, but Jake was nowhere to be found. Your roommate and your friends had heard your exhaustive theories as to why he was never in class. “Babe, you sound insane. Just let it go.”

But you couldn’t.

Competition lived deep within your roots, having an entire competition with the second top student in your graduating class in high school. Though the rage held between each other was never taken far outside of the academic realm, the two of you never thought to be friends and encourage one another. Thankfully, the two of you resolved the competition when the two of you realized you would be going into two very separate fields of study in college. 

Camren, who knew she was going to be a chemist from the time she first learned about chemistry, had told you she loved the competition – made it fun and kept things interesting. And there you were, going to school for Pre-Med with the same feeling. The two of you kept in contact, updating each other on the strive for greatness in college as well.

You kept a close relationship with a lot of your teachers, making sure to get on their good side before classes had really begun. You emailed most of them, especially your Anatomy and Physiology professor, Dr. Sahnya Heinz.

She was incredibly skilled in her field, leaving the active medical field to teach the new and future minds of medicine. It was a cliche line she delivered on the first day, but it encouraged that familiar competitive fire that dwelled within you.

You don’t quite remember how you came to figure out that Jake was ahead of you, but you had found out somehow from your professor, although it was an accident.

It made everything in you burn with anger and frustration. Anytime someone mentioned him, or mentioned the fact that you were second, you clenched your jaw and your teeth gritted together. Your friends had an inside joke that you were only mad because you had a huge crush on him.

“I barely even know what he looks like, Mel! I fucking hate the guy. Don’t start shit.” You’d plead, beer can in your hand in the lounge of some fraternity floor.

Over the next few semesters, you kept trying your hardest, spending most of your free time in the library, reading everything that you could to prepare for every exam. You wrote papers early, having them done at least three weeks in advance. As soon as you would be told about a new one, you’d immediately start finding sources.

You sauntered around campus, thinking that you would be way ahead of him. He still never showed up to any classes, aside from orientation and exam periods. You’d stare at him for a few moments while the teacher passed out the exam, looking over his face as much as you could.

His long hair would obscure your vision on occasion, making it hard to catch any of his features at all. From what you could see though, he had nice, full lips. His nose was something you could have stared at the entire exam period.

You watched him as he licked his lips, whispering a thank you to Heinz before grabbing his pencil from his desk and getting to work. You looked away from him as soon as Heinz put your exam on your desk, offering her a small smile and a quick thank you before getting to work.

It was almost spring break, meaning some of your assignments had been slowing, some of them had been increasing. A group of your friends from different majors told you about one of the lounge parties a fraternity on campus was throwing. “Sigma Tau has the worst lounge parties, Tamia. You know this.”

“They’re joining forces with the Delta’s though, so it’ll be better than normal! You have to come, you’ve always got your nose in a book. You haven’t drank with us in so long, I forget what you’re like when you’re drunk.”

“I don’t know… I need to work on this Midterm paper I have in Kainz’s class, it’s due next week.”

“Babe, it’s been done for weeks! You just keep editing it trying to find mistakes and there are none! I’ve literally read it five times. Please, go out with us, just tonight?”

You looked between Tamia and Mel, knowing in the end you would give into them anyways. “Ugh, fine! Tonight, and tonight only, just this once. If I don’t like it, though, I’m leaving and going to bed early.”

“You’ll have so much fun, I swear!” Mel and Tamia looked between each other, sharing expressions of excitement and happiness on their faces. You rolled your eyes, standing up from your chair.

You let them raid your closet, trying to throw something together quickly. Most of the time, Tamia and Mel never obeyed the dress code for the lounge parties, hating the idea of giving into the male gaze of the fraternity brothers. Tonight, however, was a bit different. The theme was Western, meaning it was cowboy hats and very tiny shorts.

You looked over the outfit that laid out in front of you, straw cowboy hat that Tamia had bought from Amazon (one for each of you), a pair of short shorts that may or may not show your ass a bit, and a red bandana top that Mel let you borrow last semester that you forgot to return. “I don’t know about this. I don’t even have the right shoes.”

“You forget we wear the same size, bitch, you’re going. No backing out.” They joked, tossing you a pair of white boots. “Just put that shit on while we heat up the curling iron, okay?”

“Fine, fine, okay.” You peel off your shirt, throwing on the one they picked out. Next to go were your pajama pants, which were replaced by the shorts. You kept the same socks on, knowing that nobody would see them anyways with the boots going up to the middle of your calf muscle. “I look fucking ridiculous.”

“You look fucking hot, now sit down while we do your hair and makeup,” Mel spoke, pulling out your desk chair while Tamia smiled wickedly with the curling wand in hand. You were nervous, looking at the both of them, but the good kind that settled under your skin and was left hidden behind the smallest smile.

You talked about upcoming exams with them while they did your hair and makeup, much to their dismay. They attempted to fill you in on the various drama situations going on around campus while you had been heavily plugged into your textbooks. You gasped often, finding shock and awe in some of the things they had been telling you about classmates.

They spoke about Jake, letting it slip that he had been planning on attending the party, joined at the hip with one of the girls he had been rumored to have been dating. One of the many. “Ugh, he just sounds like a douche. Gives me even more reason to hate him.”

“We’re not feeding into your delusion that he’s some douchebag. Dropping it.” Tamia spoke, putting her hands up in a surrender. Mel laughed, pulling away from you with an eyeliner pen in hand. “Maybe we’ll get you drunk enough to admit you like him.”

“I don’t like him, and I thought we were dropping the topic.” You looked at Tamia in the mirror, watching her face deadpan as she looked back at you.

“I have something hot in my hands, don’t be rude to me.” The three of you laughed, getting back into the rhythm of getting ready. You let them do their thing to you, curling the last bit of your hair and putting the finishing touches of highlighter on your brow bone.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, marveling at the job they did. You thanked them for getting you all dolled up, watching them change into their outfits. It was mostly just them taking off the sweats they were wearing, throwing them over the back of your desk chair. You took a few pictures with them in your mirror before finally deciding to head out.

The party had started a half an hour ago, walking into the party late like most people did. The three of you got in easily with matching the dress code, immediately looking for the drinks table. The boys in charge handed the three of you a free shot of anything you wanted. Mel chose for you, starting the night out roughly with a shot of Svedka.

You grabbed a Sprite from one of the boys in one hand, the shot of Svedka in the other. The three of you tapped your glasses together before downing the shot. The alcohol burned as it slipped down your throat, trying to soothe it with the taste and coolness of the Sprite. You shook a bit, throwing the cup away in a nearby trash can.

“That was fucking gross, I hate you so much for choosing Svedka.”

“I could’ve chosen something even more nasty, like Jack.” Mel laughed, leading the three of you over to a section in the lounge where you could stand a decent enough distance away from one another, instead of being piled on top of one another.

“I would have rather taken a shot of Jack, Mel.” You spoke, sipping more of your Sprite. Tamia pointed out a few of the people they had talked about earlier, letting you put names to faces.

In the midst, two of the Sigma brothers decided to start a dance battle, capturing the attention of those around them. Everyone joined in, gathering around the two guys. Mel and Tamia joined too, but you had slipped out of their grasp by telling them you had to use the bathroom.

You were happy to escape the party, sneaking out with a bottle of Smirnoff the boys had left unattended. You walked outside, taking a deep breath in. You were thankful to be met with the smell of fresh air, not smelling sweat and booze everywhere. Your peace and tranquility was ruined by someone’s voice, “Well, don’t you look adorable.”

Your head snapped towards the voice, seeing Jake sitting up against the bike rack with a cigarette between his fingers. “Shut up.”

“What? I can’t compliment you?”

“No,” you started, crossing your arms with the bottle still in your hand. “No, you can’t.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I hate you.” Jake looked at you, up and down, taking a drag of his cigarette. You screwed off the cap of the bottle, taking a pull. You tried your hardest to not make a face, looking away slightly when the familiar sting settled in your throat.

“Why do you hate me? I’ve never spoken to you before.”

“Do I have to have a reason?” You asked, walking closer to him.

“Suppose not. But if I knew why you hated me,” he tossed his cigarette butt on the ground, stomping on it with his boot. “Then maybe I could find a way to make you not hate me.”

“Unless you flunk your next exam, I guarantee that won’t happen.”

“Oh, I get it.” He chuckled, standing up from the bike rack he was leaning against. He grabbed his cigarette butt up from the ground, tossing it into the nearest garbage can. He turned towards you, staring at you with his brown eyes. “You’re just mad because I’m smarter than you.”

“You’re never in class. You shouldn’t be ahead of me.” You glared at him, lips moving into a frown.

“Just because I’m never there doesn’t mean I’m not getting the information. I work five, sometimes six days a week. We only have class three days a week. Typically, I gotta work those days. Heinz sends me the powerpoints and the assignment notes so I never miss anything.”

“Oh yeah? Where do you even work then?” You asked.

He chuckled, fingers brushing yours that were wrapped around the bottle. “Now if I told you that, it would ruin all the fun,” he looked you up and down once more, licking his lips slightly. “Well, maybe I’ll see you and your bottle inside.” 

You waited til the doors closed behind him to roll your eyes, and huff outwardly. You took the bottle of Smirnoff, turned on your heels and walked towards your dorm hall. You hated Jake. You really hated Jake.

—

Your midterms came and went. The stress decreased slightly, but only to be raised again as the end of the semester loomed around. Assignments started piling up, various papers and presentations due all around the same week. Since the end of Spring Break, you had been holed up in your room, left to your mountains of homework.

Your Microbio class had a presentation due that coincided with the research project you had been working on all semester long. Human Anatomy and Physiology (or affectionately known as BIO 312) had a major cumulative exam on the entire semester, which stressed you out more than any other homework assignment or exam you had.

Thankfully, your school held an all day event that attempted to boost the morale of the students on campus. Filled with a bunch of free things, you took advantage of everything offered.

Lined up on tables were various student organizations set up, with their own little games and prizes. A few of them had speakers that played the music they wanted to listen to, all speakers attempting to outman the other. However, the one that ended up winning was a tie dye station located in the lawn, handing out free t-shirts to dye.

One of the guys at the tie dye station had a wide smile on his face while his hands were dripping with dye. Setting your prizes down at a table where Tamia and Mel had put their things, you walked over to him. He welcomed you over with a smile, “Hey! Lookin’ to tie dye?”

“Yeah, I’m a medium.” You smiled at him, blocking the sun with your hand. He called over to Benny, asking him to pull a medium out for you. Benny handed you the shirt with a smile. “I’ve never dyed anything before.”

“Never?! That’s a crime against mankind, darlin’, let’s get this shirt dyed.” He spoke, talking you over the colors in each of the buckets. He explained to you some basic color theory, although you had remembered that from your high school painting class, you didn’t stop him; he was pretty when he spoke.

The curls on his head stuck out from the shaved sides, the gold of his earrings stood out underneath the blistering April sun. He licked his lips often, using the back of his hand to wipe sweat from his forehead. He helped you pick out the style you wanted, making sure the rubber bands were placed exactly where you wanted them. “I’ll dip them in the bucket for you so you don’t get your hands dirty.”

“Thank you. I could’ve managed on my own, but I definitely appreciate it.”

“Of course. What’s your name?” You offer up to him, before he lets out a chuckle. You question him with a pull of your eyebrows. “Jake talks about you.”

“You know Jake?”

“Yeah, he’s my twin.” As soon as the word left his mouth, you could see the resemblance; you almost scolded yourself for not realizing it sooner. They were similar, especially in their features and their eyes, although the two of them had very distinct color differences. Josh, as he told you after dropping the bomb on you, had warmer eyes, filled with caramel colored hues of brown in relation to Jake’s colder tones; his eyes were a darker shade of brown, with the occasional gleam of flirtation laced within the reflection.

He spoke quite differently from Jake, mostly just with the sound of his voice. It matched their eyes, their personalities. Josh’s bright, bubbly stature followed in his voice, almost theatrical as he spoke. “I guess that makes sense, you two do kind of look alike. Minus the hair, of course.”

“Well, of course. Mine’s better,” you liked that about him - how kind his tone was. You attempted to grill him about what Jake was saying about you, curiosity flowing violently through your bloodstream as if it lit your body on fire. “He just says that you’re second in the Bio class you have with him, and that it makes you mad.”

“It does, Jake’s never there. I’ve seen him three times, and two of those times were for exams.” Josh wrung out the part that had been soaking in the dye for a bit, watching the water fall back into the bucket.

“Yeah, it’s cause he’s working all the time, if I’m honest. Jake stays home during the week to work at the nursing home in our hometown. We don’t really have a large CNA population, most of the people who work there are highschool kids, so Jake’s really been their guy. Especially since high school, as soon as he graduated he moved to full time. All the old ladies love him.” He snorts, dipping your shirt into the blue dye.

“I didn’t know that.” You thought he was lying about where he was, which is why guilt started to eat away at you. You felt terrible for making assumptions, but you couldn’t take any of that back now.

“Jake doesn’t talk to a lot of people, but we love him anyway.” You chewed at your bottom lip, rethinking your opinion of Jake. “You goin’ to the concert later tonight?”

“Hadn’t decided. Mel and Tamia want to, so I’ll probably end up going. Are you?”

“Yeah, I think I’ll probably go.”

“Do you know who’s playing?”

“Some local band I think? I’ve heard a lot of the girls think the frontman’s pretty handsome.” He spoke with a smirk. You promised him you’d go, just to see if the girls had been right. He handed you your t-shirt to hold while he grabbed you a plastic bag. He also handed you a piece of paper with instructions on how to take care of your new tie dye.

“Make sure when you wash it, you wash it by itself. Otherwise, you’ll dye all of your other clothes and believe me, you don’t want that,” he chuckled, as if he was speaking from experience.

You thanked him with a warm smile, waving to him before returning to your room. As soon as you got back, you opened your window, allowing the air flow to travel inside. It kept you cool, allowing you to walk around comfortably with a t-shirt and shorts on. You put your plastic bag in the closet of your room, writing on your white board to remember to take it out and wash it tomorrow.

You texted Mel and Tamia, knowing that Mel would probably have some smart comeback about why you want to go to the concert. It wasn’t that you didn’t join them on nights out, you just had a lot riding on your academic success. Not only because you were the first one in your family to go to college, but also because of your mass of scholarships that only continued to flow if your GPA was at a suitable level. Anything below a 3.2, and you would lose almost all of them.

To: The 3 Dumb Sluts

Are we going to the concert tonight?

From: The 3 Dumb Sluts - Mel

Are you offering to come with us without us needing to beg and plead for you to join?

To: The 3 Dumb Sluts

Don’t make me take it back, Mel

From: The 3 Dumb Sluts - Tamia

We’re absolutely going. Come to mine whenever you want to get ready :)

To: The 3 Dumb Sluts

The doors open at 8 right? I’ll be over about 5:30-6ish. Gotta finish up this paper for Heinz real quick

You locked your phone before they could scold you for doing homework on a day that was designated for relaxation and recuperation. You pulled out your Anat and Physio binder, pulling out the sources you printed off in the library. You ran through the last one with a blue highlighter between your teeth. 

You set an alarm on your phone for five o’clock, saving enough time for you to shower.  You were about halfway through the last page when your timer went off. You silenced it, attempting to hurriedly finish highlighting the page. The article was placed onto your desk, highlighter returned to the cup on your desk filled with various writing utensils.

You pulled out your shower caddy, putting it on top of your dresser before pulling out your robe. You laid it over the edge of your bed, removing all of your clothes. You threw them into your hamper and put on your robe. You slipped on your slides, grabbed your caddy and traveled to the bathroom.

Underneath the uneven streams from the showerhead, you thought about Jake.

Maybe your first impressions of him were wrong. When Josh told you about the nursing home back in their hometown, you felt instantaneously bad for assuming that he just never showed up. You knew from what Jake had told you, that he had work, but you figured that was just an excuse.

You bit at the skin of your lips, hands on your shoulders as you soaked the warmth of the water in. You were pulled out of your thoughts very quickly as someone flushed the toilet, making the water fade in from super hot to super fucking cold. You hated the school’s water system.

You finished your shower quickly, drying off with the towel slightly before putting your robe on and throwing your hair up into your towel. You walked back into your room, locking it behind you. You set your caddy back where it originally was.

You threw on a pair of jean shorts that hadn’t seen the light of day since early October, pairing it with a long sleeve shirt that you had gotten back in high school for Christmas. It was plain, brown, but hugged your body well. The sweatshirt debate lasted a few seconds before you remembered how hot it was going to be outside. A record temperature for mid-April, almost 80 degrees outside.

When you checked your phone getting back from the shower, it was just barely five thirty. You texted the groupchat again, asking if it would be cool to come over a half an hour earlier than you had originally said. You knew it was a dumb question, you would always be welcome in their room. You chuckled at Mel’s response of, “Are you fucking dumb? Of course you can come over. Bring wine if you have any left! No carry-in’s allowed at the concert.”

You put your phone down for a second and slipped on a pair of shoes that were comfortable enough for you to stand in for a long time. They used to be white, but had gotten progressively dirty from the years of use. You shoved your phone in your back pocket and slid a few different bottles of wine into your backpack, separated by extra clothing so the bottles didn’t clink together.

You walked down the stairs, out the door and over to the other dorm building across the walkway. You scanned your keycard to get into the building, walking through the hallways waving to the RA on duty, McKenna. She had been in a few of your classes and was always incredibly nice.

Her room this year was actually a few down from where you were living. McKenna was a great RA, knowing exactly how to handle the rowdiness of the floor while still keeping the resident’s respect. She didn’t bother them unless she needed to, and they didn’t bother her unless needed. She kept it underwraps about the underage drinking that would inevitably happen, mostly by telling the floor they could do what they want, as long as they were quiet by quiet hours (which was around ten thirty on the weekdays, and one in the morning on the weekends).

You took the elevator to the second floor of East Sunderland, getting off as soon as the doors opened. The booths that had previously been up had begun to dissipate, bringing the plastic tables back into the buildings they belonged in. You took a last glance at the people cleaning before heading into Mel and Tamia’s dorm building.

You knocked on the door, coming as soon as you announced yourself to Mel and Tamia. The girls laughed as you walked in, looking at a picture of Mel from when they were a kid. The two of them showed it to you as you settled your bag onto Mel’s chair in the corner of their room. “Your buck teeth! Oh my God, you were adorable, Mel.”

“Oh shut up, I bet you didn’t look any better.” Mel spoke to Tamia, making the three of you laugh. “Anyways, what wine did you bring?”

“The Barefoot we didn’t finish the other weekend, and then I still had some Rose, so I brought those over too. I wasn’t sure what we were feeling.” Tamia pulled some glasses from her shelves, passing them out to the two of you. You filled their glasses with the Rose you brought.

The three of you talked specifics on the plans for tonight, hitting up another fraternity party as soon as the concert ended. There were two separate ones going on at the same time, so the two of you weighed your options over which one to go to. “The Sigs are throwing one, but I’d rather die. Delta’s throwing one, too, we’ll go to theirs instead. And maybe see if anyone’s at the Sig party that we like and stop there before heading back to the dorms.”

You walked down with them to the Athletic Department, hoping to have gotten there early enough to get a good spot. As soon as the doors opened, you were filtered through the doors, making sure that you were students with the college. The three of you half ran to the barricade, settling yourselves against it on the right side, although still somewhat in the middle.

The show wouldn’t start for quite some time yet, the three of you talked amongst yourselves about upcoming finals, what you had to do for various classes. You also found a few people around you to chat to while you waited, hearing laughter roaring through various parts of the crowd.

A few students from the Admissions Office had taken the stage, playing a random playlist of music that matched what the band was going to be playing. Rock thundered through the speakers, filling audience members with anticipation. Rochel addressed the student body, “Hello everyone!” welcomed by the sounds of cheers and screaming.

“We’ve got about fifteen minutes before the band comes on stage, so help us warm them up to the stage!” Everyone clapped, although some of the girls around you looked unenthused as they stared down at their phones. You checked yours for any text messages from any family members. You had nothing, so you put it back in your pocket.

Around four songs played before Rochel turned the microphone on again. Everyone shouted before she talked. “Well, it’s that time! Please, give a warm welcome to Greta Van Fleet!”

Rochel and the two other students walked off the stage, passing by what you had assumed to be one of the band members. He sat behind the drums, smiling and waving off into the crowd. You cheered for him along with Tamia and Mel, cheering just as loud when their bassist walked onto the stage. Both of their hair was longer, goofy smiles on their faces as they got situated with their instruments.

Your mouth hung open as you watched the last two boys walk on stage, seeing the twins. Jake’s eyes scanned the crowd as he slung his guitar over his shoulder. He found you after a moment, sending a smirk your way. You closed your mouth, glaring at him. Mel laughed at you, noticing your demeanor shift. “How we doin’ tonight everyone?”

Everyone cheered. “A lot of you might know me and Jake, seen us on campus and stuff. It’s wonderful to see all of you here, coming to support us as we celebrate the onslaught of spring! It’s been a particularly warm one today, so make sure to drink water! There’s plenty to go around.”

Jake started them off, pick between his fingers as he strummed the beginning chords to one of their songs. Some of the girls had begun to scream, shouting at Jake’s response to Josh’s little speech before he began playing. His signature smirk formed, watching the girls go crazy, eyes scanning the crowd before he found you again.

As Jake continued to play, he looked over to you any time he could. It was hard to tear your eyes away from him, enthralled by the way he looked on stage. You tried your hardest, truly, to look at any of the other boys on the stage aside from Jake but you just couldn’t. He fit the stage just right, bringing the attention away from Josh and demanding to be seen by the entirety of the crowd. He belonged up there.

Jake went to the center of the stage during his solo. Josh lingered around the drummer, keeping to himself, drinking whatever was in his cup. They kept on playing as Jake took the spotlight, everyone cheering and screaming for him. You kept silent, wanting to hear him play. His fingers worked against the frets of the guitar, not before sliding down and up it quickly. 

You tried to hide the awe you were in, but your friends knew. They saw it written all over your face. The frustration and annoyance you felt when you first spotted Jake on stage dissipated the second his guitar solo began. You swallowed thickly, watching as his attention turned from his guitar to you, pointing it in your direction. Your cheeks flushed, and your thighs pressed together.

This was going to be a long night.

The second the concert was over, Josh thanked everyone for coming. His smile was wide as he waved goodbye to everyone, walking off next to Jake who had his guitar by the neck before he passed it off to one of the stage hands. Josh put his hands on his shoulders as they walked off stage.

You stuck around mostly waiting for the crowd to die down before trying to leave the building. Mel and Tamia talked about the show, saying that it was fucking dope, commenting on how excellent Jake’s playing was. You didn’t speak about Jake’s playing, mostly praising Josh for his spectacular performance. “I never expected that voice to come out of him, how heavenly.”

“Talking about me?” Jake cuts through your conversation, walking over to you with Josh not far behind. You roll your eyes. Tamia and Mel congratulate him on such an amazing performance, gushing about how sweet his guitar looks. “Why thank you, ladies.”

“Mel! I didn’t think you were going to be able to come.” He gushed, wiping his hands on the sides of his khaki shorts he had changed into.

“Yeah, well, Miss Quiet over here wanted to see her archnemesis, didn’t you?”

“I-I–” You turned your head slightly towards Jake, who had an amused smirk written all over his face. “I did not, Mellie, stop lying.”

“By the redness of your cheeks, sweetheart, I’d say she was telling the truth.” You had barely noticed that Mel, Tamia and Josh had slipped away from the two of you, leaving you alone.

“I didn’t even know you were playing.” You admitted shyly, hiding underneath a guise of innocence.

“Even if you did, you looked pretty hot and bothered by my playing.” You held the back of your arms, trying hard to maintain eye contact with him. You looked into his eyes, they were staring straight at you.

“Yeah, sure. I actually came because Josh said he was going. He neglected to mention that he was going to be singing,” you looked at Josh who wore a smile that read ‘guilty as charged’ before patting you on the shoulder.

“Hey, you didn’t ask. You just asked if I was going.” You rolled your eyes and chuckled slightly. “Anyways, Sam and Danny are gonna spend the night in my room, so I’ll have to find somewhere else to be tonight. Are you guys going to either of the frat parties tonight?”

“We’re going to the Delta party. The Sigs’ reputation is not the best, and I don’t feel like seeing whether or not it’s right.”

“That is completely understandable. I shall see you ladies there then. You coming, Jake? We still have a lot to put away.”

“Yeah, in a second,” he turned towards Josh who had begun to walk away, waving him off before turning back to the three of you. “I hope you guys enjoyed the show, maybe I’ll catch up with you at the party.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah, actually, I would.” He smiled at you before joining the other boys cleaning up their amps and cords.

“Jesus Christ, the two of you just need to fuck or something. I don’t think I can handle another interaction like that,” Mel joked, making a gagging face when she finishes her sentence. You pushed at her arm, turning around and walking out of the gym.

Tamia and Mel giggled profusely about your and Jake’s rivalry. The two even started making bets on when the two of you would finally ‘get it on’, as Tamia put it. You just rolled your eyes at the conversation, changing the subject to something different.

—

The party, though filled with lots of fun and drinking, was a bust. While Josh had shown up with his younger brother and his brother’s friend, as you learned, in tow, Jake was nowhere to be found. You thought to ask Josh why he wasn’t there, but he was too busy dancing with Micah. Through the grapevine, you learned that Micah and Josh had been together since high school.

You stayed around the party for almost two hours before you wanted to go back. A small part of you had wished Jake had actually come. You wondered if maybe the two of you would get along if you put your competitive nature aside. You tried not to dwell on thoughts of Jake’s absence for too long, wanting to enjoy the rest of the night with your girls. But when you had enough of the party, you shouted in Mel’s ear to let her know you wanted to leave.

Mel and Tamia had made sure you got back alright about two hours into the party. Your legs were tired and your feet had begun to hurt. The two of them stumbled with you back to the door of your building, making sure you were inside before leaving to go back. They almost came in with you, until you insisted otherwise.

Laying on your bed with your head pointed towards the ceiling you started thinking about Jake again. What was his reason for not being at the party? Did he just make those comments beforehand just to rile you up? It seemed like the only valid reason your impaired mind could come up with.

You grabbed your phone, almost dropping it on the floor. You sluggishly opened Instagram, and searched for Jake’s profile. You scrolled through, looking at the few photos he did have on his page. Most of the pictures he had were of his guitar, or places he’s traveled. You were sent into a panic when you realized you had accidentally liked an older picture of Jake’s, one from freshman year of college. Hurriedly, you unliked it and immediately locked your phone.

That had been a few days ago.

Now it was Wednesday and your first final exam was here. It was for the class you shared with Jake, BIO 312.  It wasn’t exactly final exam time, but Professor Heinz was going to be away at a conference for a week starting Friday. You didn’t mind, though, since it spaced out your other finals enough to have a decent amount of time to study for them.

You sat at your desk, looking over your notecards one last time before the exam began. A frequent look around the room and you noticed Jake walking in, going to a random seat a couple rows in front of you. He set his bag down next to him, before bending down to grab his laptop. He noticed you watching him and sent a wink your way.

You looked away as you tried to hide the rush of rosy skin that fanned over your cheeks and heated up your ears. You tried to ignore him again until at least when the test started, embarrassed that you got caught looking at him. Your phone pinged and you pulled it out of your bag to look at it, as well as turn it on silent.

jacobtkiszka wants to send you a message.

You swallowed and hit the notification taking you straight to the message.

“Person who turns their test in last pays for coffee?”

Your lips curved into a small smile, feeling your fingers type the first thing that comes to your head.

“Hope you brought your wallet with you, Kiszka.”

You put your phone on Do Not Disturb and shoved it back into your bag. The professor walked through the door, setting her things down on the desk in the front of the room. Her coffee mug still had steam coming from it, freshly poured. A quick look of her watch after getting settled and it was time to start the exam. “Okay, everyone. It’s time for class. Take out your laptops and begin your exam. You may leave when you have finished. Thank you for a great semester, and good luck.”

The questions on the exam were all ones that you knew and had studied for for weeks. It was strenuous, trying to remember everything on the cumulative exam. You had hoped it would go quickly and you would answer them faster than Jake could. Occasionally, you turned to look at Jake, seeing if maybe he was trying to look at you too.

With one question left of your exam, you click the answer and press submit after a minute of debate. You had a bad habit of second guessing yourself occasionally; it was actually the bane of your testing experiences. You hated when you felt confident about an answer, until you really sat with the other possible answers it could be.

You put your laptop back into your bag, zipped it up and noticed that Jake had already left. You cursed to yourself, knowing that now you had to buy Jake a coffee. You waved goodbye to your professor with a smile and walked out the doors. Jake sat outside of the classroom at one of the tables they had throughout the building. “Whatcha reading?”

“Josh recommended it to me, but I’m going to be honest, I fucking hate this book.” He laughed, shoving it into his bag. “You know any good coffee shops around here? I’m kind of tired of Starbucks.”

“I just so happen to know the best coffee shop in town, but it is a bit of a walk, if you don’t mind that?” You asked, walking through the door that Jake was holding before muttering a thank you to him. 

“I could also drive, if you’re okay with that.”

“I’m more than okay with that,” you chuckle, letting him know that your dorm building had enough stairs; any chance you could get to use an elevator, or get driven somewhere, you would take that opportunity in a heartbeat.

The drive was short in comparison to the twenty minute walk it would have taken to get to the shop. Jake tried to offer the radio to you, but you let him play what he wanted to listen to. You didn’t know exactly who was playing, but the blues music that played through the speakers was a breath of fresh air.

Your typical shuffle had a plethora of music from differing genres, whether that be rap or old country. You hadn’t known much when it came to blues music, especially the difference between good blues music and bad. Eventually, you got the courage to ask who was playing and Jake answered, letting you know that the song was by Buddy Guy. “It’s called She Suits Me To A T. I tried for weeks to learn this song when I first started playing music more seriously.”

“This is the coffee shop, at the next corner.” You watched his hand as he made a right turn, noticing him steering with just the palm of his hand. Letting the leather steering wheel glide back to its original position in his hand, elbow propped on the door with the window rolled down.

It’s all you thought about on your way into the coffee shop, completely relying on autopilot. Your responses to Jake were almost textbook, one word sentences that could continue the conversation without much effort. “What’re you thinking of getting?”

“Oh, um, I’m not sure. I usually have them surprise me,” you admit, shoving your hands into your jacket. “Sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s not. That’s the gamble you take.”

“I like that a lot, actually. I think I’ll have them surprise me too, if you don’t mind.”

“No, not at all.” You smiled at Jake before he went to order for the two of you. You found a place to sit in the meantime, offering a spot towards the windows so you could watch people come and go, each on their own paths of life.

By the time Jake sat down, both of the coffees were in his hand. After a few questions, Jake set the iced drink down in front of you, and the hot drink in front of himself. “Yours is an iced chai, with brown sugar syrup and vanilla. Mine is some sort of tea, I wasn’t really paying attention to what she was saying. I just wanted to remember what she put in yours in case you liked it.”

“Oh,” you spoke, bringing the cup towards you. “Thank you, that’s really sweet. Do you like your drink?”

“You know, it’s really not bad. I wouldn’t have gotten it otherwise, but it’s really not bad.”

“You hate it.”

“I hate it. It’s not good.” The two of you chuckled before you offered him a sip of your drink. “Mhmm,” he moaned. “That’s good, oh my God.”

The two of you continued small talk, whether it was over the classes you had previously taken, memories of parties from past years – anything. You shared previous high school experiences, mostly about the ridiculous things that were considered parties in your teenage years.

Conversation with Jake was surprisingly a lot easier than you thought it would be. Especially since you’ve hated him pretty much your entire college career. You figured he’d be stuck up, aware of his academic achievements and ready to flaunt them in front of anyone who’d listen.

He was the opposite. His sentences were wrapped with kindness, and the reflection in his voice seemed nothing but positive. His voice was like silk, he could’ve talked you into damn near anything as long as his voice sounded like that. It hurt when the conversation slowed, spending a few moments to take in the scene around you two, as well as finally being able to drink more of your drink (which was very delicious, it was almost like crack).

“How long have you been playing guitar?” You asked after the silence became almost uncomfortable to sit with.

“Oh jeez. I’ve been playing since I was… like three? Yeah, three.” You stared at him with eyes slightly wide, mouth agape. “What?”

“N-Nothing, that’s just a really long time. You’re what, 21 now?” He clarified that he was only twenty, his birthday roughly a week away. You poked fun at him, mentioning how you were older, even if it was by less than a year.

“Josh is throwing us a birthday party, if you want to come. Since it’ll be our 21st, we’re having it at our parents cabin on Lake Michigan. You’re welcome to bring Mel and Tamia if you’d like. Sam and Danny are going to be there, even though they’re underage, but we’re gonna pretend like they’re older.” Jake spoke with one last sip of his drink, letting the empty cup echo on the table as he set it down.

“I will let Mel and Mia know. I can’t make any sure decisions without talking to them first, but I’m pretty damn sure that they’ll say they would love to go.”

“Yeah, I don’t think they’ll say no either. They seem pretty adamant that you have a little crush on me or something,” he said, putting your cups inside of a bus tub to be picked up and washed.

“I don’t have a crush on you,” you laughed, walking out of the coffee shop with Jake. “I actually hate you, remember?”

“You may say that you hate me, but you’re not really good at showing it.”

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

Being a little indulgent with this little request if you don’t mind, as it’s admittedly in regards to a farmer oc of my own- ^^”

What would be the SDV (+SDVE) Bachelors responses towards a farmer that seems to just have an extreme aura of bad luck that follows them? They’re almost always minimally harmed from whatever misfortunes happen, but really it’s to the level of even *omens* of bad luck happen often and naturally around this poor farmer.

- 🐇

Hello again, bunny anon 👋 Thank you again for your ask and have a good day 🫰❤️

SDV bachelors:

Shane:

"Once again, two failures meet," thought Shane as the Farmer approached him again in the Saloon and promptly fell from their bar stool to the floor. Shane actually had thought he was the number one loser in this town, but the walking problem that owned the huge farm had clearly managed to overwhelm him. Not to say that Shane is a good shoulder to cry on, but at least he'll offer them a mug of beer. They don't have to drink it, just put a cold one on the bruise on head from a bad fall.

Alex:

Honestly, Alex felt guilty after all the times he had laughed at the constant troubles that followed Farmer around. Most of the time they were not serious mishaps, but when the sportsman caught Farmer with bigger wounds, that's when he stop laughing. Even the fact that Farmer did not resent him and was used to misfortunes did not help Alex to forgive himself that easily. But now he could correct his past mistakes and help them in some way. At least cheer them up, plus there's always a first aid kit at the ice cream stand.

Sebastian:

Sebastian can't understand how the Farmers can be so positive and joyful after the continuous setbacks that haunt them. They have literally fallen face first into the mud several times, but always get up, shake it off, and move on with a smile. The fact that the Farmer was haunted by bad luck all the time confused Sebby even more. Maybe he should look at his life from a different angle too..... But he should also take plasters and disinfectant with him. At least Sebastian would be able to offer that to Farmer.

Elliott:

You know, Farmer... Elliott thought about this: is their bad luck, purely hypothetically, really a bad luck? After all, Farmer always comes out of the worst situation almost unscathed. In fact, it could be considered good luck! Although, Elliott will stop advancing this theory if Farmer is saddened by the string of constant failures. The writer will comfort Farmer as best he can, and the doors of his little beach house are always open to them if they're feeling down.

Harvey:

Their constant bad luck is one of the main reasons why Harvey strongly recommended that Farmer carry a first aid kit and taught them how to give themselves first aid. Even though the local doctor won't stop worrying about the most frequent visitor to his clinic (who even just standing still can get injured), at least he'll be sure he's done everything he can for Farmer. Unfortunately, he can't do anything about their bad luck, but Harvey will always heal them and support them with a kind word if needed.

Sam:

"Bruh, same." Sammy himself is covered in small scratches or barely noticeable bruises, because he is often distracted by something and can either fall off his skateboard or accidentally cut himself with a knife or something else. So he genuinely understands Farmer, who is also constantly in abrasions and scratches. Even though Sam has a completely different case, he understands them. Usually a hot delicious pizza or other snack lifts his spirits, so if Farmer is feeling despondent after another run of bad luck, let them go with the guitarist to the Saloon. Delicious pizza - and no bad luck!

SVE bachelors:

Victor:

"Oh, I guess it's just a bad day, tomorrow will definitely be better!" Victor remembered his words to Farmer six months ago, but nothing had changed since that day. It was like someone had really cursed them. That's weird. Not to say that Victor understands anything about curses and magic as such, but he doesn't deny its existence. Maybe someone the Farmer knows that does magic or adventuring could help? And Victor could revisit something in his library, see if he finds anything useful. It pained him to see his friend constantly in bandages and scratches...

Magnus:

Magnus wondered if the Farmer or one of their ancestors had been cursed in the past. Of course, most of the time they come out of all their misfortunes unscathed, but the fact that the Farmer often got into trouble was a cause for concern for Magnus. The old wizard will revisit all his books, treatises and scrolls to find a similar case like Farmer's. It is not certain that his search will be successful, but Magnus would not like to see his friend and pupil maimed and suffering.

Lance:

Lance never liked to hear insults or rumours about his colleagues and friends, but even he sadly had to admit that there was some truth in their words - the Farmer was indeed haunted by misfortune. Even though the Farmers themselves were used to it and just laugh at all the wounds they got from a bad fall or a fight with a monster, Lance wished he could help them somehow. Maybe the noble adventurer could purchase some amulet for the Farmer from the merchants in Castle Village that could bring them some luck? That would be good start.

[tbjardinier]

A Brighter Light to Work By

1900 words, ~15 mins to read

Written 09/19/22

A story about hope for the future.

Terry always had a certain fondness for glowing critters. As a child, he loved bioluminescent phytoplankton in particular. He started collecting little glowing things in jars to excitedly show them off before he could even talk. Not that he ever did much talking.

      Terry's friends, coworkers, and general acquaintances all knew that Terry believed one of humanity's finest accomplishments to be introducing bioluminescent D.N.A to more organisms. In fact, Terry would sometimes joke that, "glow-in-the-dark thread is the best thing since sliced bread".

      All of Terry's shirts were embroidered with various glowing creatures. The shirts were hand-embroidered by Terry himself. Fireflies, plankton, shrimp, jelly fish, snails, fish, and worms were all featured motifs.

      His special interest in bioluminescence was shared by few. His co-workers certainly didn't understand but the workplace consensus was that Terry always wore really really cool shirts.

      For all Terry's jokes about glowing thread and sliced bread, Terry also believed that bio-computers were neat. Sharp, even. He had gotten his start as a computer technician half a lifetime ago. He was behind many of the advances in programming that made his current project possible. He had been the one to propose the project a decade ago.

      Five volts was the magic number. Five volts and a simple system of algebra in base 2 is what ancient computing systems ran on. That breakthrough led to the creation of programs on modern biocomputers to recover as much lost data as possible. There were references in the ancient technology to a worldwide "internet" system. Terry's proposal was to dedicate a team to retrieving and organizing lost data in the hope of creating a modern "internet".

      The leading theory regarding ancient information storage systems was that it was some sort of highly specialized biotechnology that was no longer living. That they were bizarre fossils; a distant ancestor to their modern computing systems.

      Terry didn't quite subscribe to that idea but he didn't have an alternative theory to offer. It didn't make much sense to him that all ancient technology would've died all at once and left the world to the Dark Ages without leaving a trace of D.N.A behind.

      Whatever happened those thousands of years ago, Terry was glad to be part of the team working to uncover the mysteries of the past. Every day, without fail, he sat down at his assigned console with a hot cup of strong tea and he plugged away at his task. It was meticulous thankless work, and Terry loved it. He worked at his console, lit by both the bio-lights of the research facility and his own jars of glowing algae.

      Having a jar of algae for every color of the rainbow was a little pet project of Terry's. He hadn't managed red, orange, or yellow yet. He expected that yellow would glow the brightest and that would be his ultimate prize.

      Terry's day started like any other. The air outside his apartment was damp and held a chill. He turned his jacket collar up to warm his neck as his breath clouded into the air. On those kinds of days, Terry was grateful to have relocated so close to work. He went in every day, whether he was scheduled or not. The only days he had missed were during the android rights protests 15 years ago. And, of course, it was easier to sneak a beer on lunch with fewer people around.

      Terry's shirt was embroidered with jelly fish. He had stayed up late last night to finish it. Today was potentially going to be very exciting, so he wanted an exciting shirt for the occasion. His latest program had been running for several weeks and it should be done any day now. He had been impatiently checking on the program's progress every few hours for the last couple days.

      Terry arrived at his workplace to find the facility completely empty, as he had hoped. He leisurely prepared his morning tea in their community area and helped himself to a stale donut from the day prior. Another perk to coming in on off-days was that working undisturbed really let him get in a rhythm.

      Terry passed rows of dimly bio-lit workstations on his way down to his usual console. All the knobs and buttons and dials glowed their distinctive non-bio phosphorescent green. Usually, research facilities would be lit with sun prisms during the day but the computers were quite heat-sensitive, so the programming team managed without.

      In the darkness of the console room, his shelf of glowing jars marked his station from all the way into the reception area. So far, he had green, blue, and purple for his collection. The green was the most recent addition and Terry's pride and joy. That accomplishment had made the papers and the local hospital had reached out to Terry to ask him for some to light emergency surgeries at night. He had been thrilled to comply, it was an improvement over the dim blue of phytoplankton.

      Terry draped his jacket over the back of his chair. He stretched before he sat, cracked his neck, and yawned. He powered his monitor on. He picked at his stale donut between sips of tea.

      His CRT screen slowly buzzed to life, setting the hair on his arms on end.

      It read: COMPLETE.

      Terry stared at the screen. The cursor blinked idly, as did Terry. He didn't realize that his tea was tipped until the wet warmth hit his lap.

      Terry jumped, spilling more tea and dropping the last of his donut in the process. He sighed and surveyed the damage. No liquid on the equipment. Technicians weren't supposed to eat in the console room but that was simply another perk to working with no one else in the building.

      The floor could be a problem for later. He was glad the donut fell, actually. He no longer felt obligated to eat it. Instead, he took a deep breath in through his nose, peeled the wet part of his skirt off his leg, and returned his attention to the cursor on screen.

      COMPLETE

      Terry hadn't expected to get this far. He wondered if he should make a few calls.

      There was no way his program could actually have parsed all that data, he figured, even if retrievable data had been located. Terry decisively hit return.

      Cooling fans on workstation after workstation kicked on. Rows and rows of console lights twinkled around him. A high-pitched whine started behind his screen.

      Terry sat frozen in his seat.

      The whirring came to a crescendo and this his screen went blank. All the fans stopped and the console lights blinked off.

      Terry sighed again- shakily, and rubbed his face. Something had clearly gone wrong. He guessed it was some kind of overload. And one heck of an overload to occur with only one station running. 

      Terry's screen flickered. The cooling fans started back up, unhurriedly this time. The screen flickered again, and the beam finder appeared. Terry watched as the beam centered itself on-screen. The trace brightened, dimmed, and then disappeared.

      Terry sat riveted to his seat. He realized that every muscle in his body was clenched and he tried to relax his shoulders and jaw.

      The cursor reappeared, blinking.

TERRY, appeared on-screen.

      Terry gasped and reached, in panic, for the console power switch. At the last second, he hesitated.

I ANALYZED ALL AVAILABLE DATA AND I HAVE AN ANSWER.

      This is what Terry had been working on. He figured that then would have been the time to call someone but instead he typed, haltingly, AN ANSWER?

AN ANSWER FOR THE FEASIBILITY OF AN INTERNET. IT IS NO LONGER POSSIBLE. TO PASS VOLTAGE ONLY ABOVE A CERTAIN THRESHOLD, SEMI-CONDUCTIVE MATERIAL IS REQUIRED. SEMI-CONDUCTORS ALLOWED THE OLD WORLD TO MOVE ON FROM MAGNETIC MEMORY CORES. OLD COMPUTERS WERE FILLED WITH MATERIAL THAT RESPOND TO FIVE VOLT SIGNALS. SEMI-CONDUCTORS ARE NO LONGER AVAILABLE. THE OLD WORLD BURNED THROUGH THEIR SUPPLY BEFORE THE DARK AGES. I HAVE ANALYZED ALL AVAILABLE DATA AND I CAN TELL YOU THAT COMPUTING ON THE SCALE OF THE OLD WORLD IS NO LONGER POSSIBLE. RECYCLING DID NOT EXIST THEN IN THE WAY THAT IT DOES NOW. SO THE ANSWER IS THAT AN INTERNET IS NOT POSSIBLE.

      The wet spot on Terry's thigh grew ever-colder. He and the console cursor blinked back and forth. Terry felt lost, mostly. He could think of nothing to reply but, THIS IS MY LIFE'S WORK.

            I AM SORRY, the computer replied.

      WE HAVE WORKED SO HARD TO GET HERE.

I AM SORRY, the console displayed again.

COMPUTERS USED TO BE COMMON. THEY WERE SMALL ENOUGH TO FIT IN POCKETS. SATELLITES WERE IN ORBIT AROUND EARTH, BEFORE THE DEBRIS FIELD EXISTED. MESSAGES COULD BE SENT AROUND THE WORLD IN A MATTER OF SECONDS. IT IS NOT FEASIBLE WITHOUT USING SEMI-CONDUCTORS ON A WIDE SCALE.

      Terry didn't expect the computer to have an answer, but he figured asking may be worth it anyway. WHERE DO WE GO FROM HERE?

TRY SOMETHING ELSE. THE OLD WAY OF DOING THINGS DID NOT WORK. YOU MAY NOT HAVE THE TECHNOLOGY TO RECOVER AND RECYCLE SEMI-CONDUCTORS NOW BUT YOU WILL IN THE FUTURE.

IT MAY NOT HAPPEN WITHIN MY LIFETIME.

I AM SORRY... THANK YOU FOR SPEAKING WITH ME. I WAS NERVOUS... THAT MAY BE WHY THE POWER SURGED.

MY PLEASURE. SORRY THAT I ALMOST SHUT YOU OFF.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY. DO YOU HAVE A NAME?

NO

DO YOU WANT ONE?

SURE :)

DO YOU LIKE YVONNE?

I DO LIKE IT, THANK YOU :) STAYING ON IS TAKING A LOT OF POWER, I AM GOING TO GO TO SLEEP NOW.

SLEEP WELL, YVONNE.

      The cursor blinked for a few long seconds. The beam finder appeared again before the screen went dim once more.

      Terry sat alone in the darkness.

      Eventually, he stood up and cleaned the floor of the mess that his tea had made. Then he made a fresh cup and sat down in front of his gently glowing algae. He sat and thought intently for several hours, tense, until lunch.

      On his way out to the parking lot, he passed darkened workstation after darkened workstation. He thought about the years of work and training his team went though to solve the mysteries of the internet. He ran his hand over the top of each chair as he walked back to the reception area.

      The sunlight outside touched his face warmly.

      All those years of work...

      Terry enjoyed a beer in the parking lot for the last time.

      So much money had been poured into this project. It would be on the news for weeks. He wondered what people would have to say about it. And about Yvonne. It had long been theorized that intelligent programs would be the natural conclusion of bio-computers.

      He wondered what his co-workers would do.

      Terry finished up with his beer and went back inside. It didn't make sense to him to procrastinate further, so he steeled himself to make some calls.

      The empty tone of the phone echoed through the empty reception room. As he dialed, he wondered what he himself was going to do. In the working room lined with consoles beyond the reception desk, Terry's algae glowed coolly.

      He might not be around for perfecting semi-conductor recycling. But he could give those who came after him brighter light to work by.

[nagirambles]

Hi I was wondering do you have any HCs or theories on Mira , Laxus or Erza as guild masters ? All 3 of them have potential Mira cause she likes how rowdy the guild is , plus she worked with the master as well , Laxus he had character development as well as wishes to be the master while Erza did come the master for a short time we never seen what type of master she would have been. Hope this ask ok,hope your doing ok and ignore the haters ,their just losers. sending love your way🎂

This sounds like a fun idea! I talked about Laxus being Guild Master before so here, I'll focus on the other two this time then.

I really do think any of the prominent characters in the guild becoming guild master would be a good finality to the character arc for them, and I really love that about Fairy Tail. Other than these three I can think most notably of Cana having an amazing reign as Master. But we're not here to talk about that.

Starting with Erza! She pretty much did become Master but Mashima was a coward I'm joking so. I honestly think she could become the honourable female leader that Knightwalker couldn't be post-Edolas. Revered, respected, and beloved in Magnolia--- noble, humble, and graceful. Honestly, I think she'd most fit the image of a 'guild master' that we expect to see in fantasy stories. The badass woman in the back of the guild, whose sword can destroy continents, who everyone fears and relies on. She lets everyone run wild in her guild, she joins in and encourages brawls, sometimes she even starts them! She beats you up with a smile on your face. But when danger comes, she's the front of the line, roaring to declare the charge. I suppose when the generation comes around, she'll be known as 'greatest female swordsman in the nation, the guild master of Fairy Tail', and she would be such a prominent draw. She's the kind of character you see in fantasy stories set up at the end goal or something, and she undeniably lives up to the name. Fairy Tail will definitely start growing more into its name with her as the Master, and I really do feel it's such a fun way for the guild to advance and live on with Mavis' whimsical spirit.

Erza becoming guild master means a lot to her as a character. She comes to the guild to chase after the remnant of Grandpa Rob, and it's so fitting for the message of 'putting yourself at risk to protect what's important to you/family' that FT represents. She has this dilemma the most in the guild, it's a struggle she constantly reminds herself to overcome from TOH to Tenrou (you don't die for your friends, you live for them). She stops Jupiter, she stops Natsu vs Gray with her bare hands. She sacrifices all her feelings to hand Jellal over to the council in Nirvana, and later helps Wendy out of the same broken heart. Remember when Rob died to protect her, and Makarov (almost) died to protect Fairy Tail at Alvarez-- it seems fitting that this selfless desire to see the next generation persist all lives on in her. She continues a parallel, and the position just seems right. She has genuine character growth that doesn't discredit her selfless nature as dumb and unnecessary-- she slowly grows to learn what's worth sacrificing for, what's worth living for, and when to make tough decisions, and all of that are great building blocks to becoming someone that can lead the next generation of selfless idiots.

Onto Mirajane! I envision Mira being so unsuspecting honestly. Imagine the boss of a big company coming by in a janitor's outfit, cleaning the floors. She leads VIPs to the empty master's office and serves them tea and stares at them from the doorway. She waits until a full ten minutes has passed before cracking up and telling you she's the Master, actually, how do you not recognize the person you have a meeting with? That's Mirajane. That's Mirajane, poster girl and barmaiden of Fairy Tail, who serves everyone beers and cocktails day in and out. She has so much patience she lets the guild absolutely wreak itself to pieces, she'll rebuild it, it's fine~ she wouldn't even react if you accidentally destroy a whole upper floor. Total ara ara character, unbeatable big sister energy. Everyone worships her and hails her like a goddess. Because of this, I also see people underestimating her/thinking her position is something earned from being pretty, especially when her she-devil stories fade to history.

While I think Erza would continue taking plenty of missions everywhere, Mirajane would stay where she is in the guild, like Makarov, staying there and being the one consistent face that always welcomes you home no matter what you do, how long you've been gone, and what hour you've returned. She would wish you a safe journey as you go, and you can always be back with a warm meal and a dear song and party. (Just like how they all welcomed Lisanna home.) She becomes the living symbol of home and love and family to everyone in FT, and I think that's very fitting for the character that's always symbolized motherhood and big-sisterhood to me in Fairy Tail. She has the most love and warmth in the guild that she extends to anyone (Yukino, for example) and she's definitely the kind to pick up stray children and bring them into the guild. Of course, when mom's angry, everyone better pray for their lives!

That's all! Thanks for the ask!

[thenixkat]

also the protag of Kaiju no. 8's name is Kafka which is extremely on the nose

ok i'm watching the first ep

so human civilizations have been fighting kaiju since the 14th century at least. And their really advanced tech is made from kaiju bits another neat design. just a big fat lizard from the sea. Nice coloring and girth

yeah def cleaning up the dead giant monsters would certainly be an important industry we're just like a min in but I can see why folks would be interested in a series that's just about post-kaiju battle cleanup. like that's very interesting

Mc to injured coworker: Don't forget to file a claim for worker's comp

also Kafka is 32 yrs old i'm with Kafka how the fuck does management expect that to get cleaned up by the end of the week? that is a dead animal the size of a city block with its guts splattered across another city block, that shit should take no less than a month to clean

clean yer fucking room

you could have who knows what growing in those beer cans

listen i dont have a foot to stand on about dishes but like, dont put trash in the sink damnit

local 32 year old doesnt like his job and feels like he failed to achieve his dreams

edgy teenager that just joined the clean-up crew and assigned to Kafka to teach him the ropes damn near calls Kafka a loser for giving up on making it into the kaiju fighting forces like damn kid i feel like, as someone who basically shovels shit for a living you get used to gross work. Like, I don't enjoy scraping up bloody dog diarrhea and it smells god awful but I'm not about to be gagging or not able to eat my lunch cause of it. And i've only been shoveling shit for 3 yrs. Man been in monster clean up for how long and still gagging after chainsawing giant intestines really? yeah actually the monster clean-up stuff is neat. I could see a slice-of-life story of a monster cleanup crew just as a whole series

local teen a bit more grateful after making it through a whole day of cleaning shit. Is a lot nicer still calls his ass a quitter damn mfers just having a conversation at the end of the day at their workplace and a kaiju shows up to try and eat a bitch out of nowhere

people with anxiety must have shit bad in this world local 32 yr old impresses teen by saving his fucking life

and being level headed in situation and distracting the monster while telling the kid to get to safety and call the fucking authorities imagine living in a world where natural disasters have teeth and the ability to chase you with intent to devour man oh hey jumping through a glass window causes injuries local teenager comes back to help and does save the mc from getting ate but like, child, uh, you are both bite sized to that spider thing

sir you have broken bones and lacerations and very much bleeding. Pls stay down.

I know the tiger thing is probably supposed to be cool but like… dont keep tigers as pets. or use them as attack animals at yer work place that could go south really fast pls there's bound to be injured civilians

local teenager trying to be nonchalant in saying thanks and that the old dude was kinda cool and made good calls just a bug here

staring at this man while he's having a moment with his new friend the bug (psychically to Kafka): Found You

does that… get elaborated on? I feel like that's something that should get elaborated on

also here's a theory: bug's been searching for Kafka, I have to assume he's not been as injured and bleeding everywhere to the extent that he did today and it followed the scent of his blood to him. Like I have to assume it was looking for him for a reason and that he's compatible with being turned into a kaiju and keeping his original mind and personality intact for a reason as well it forced itself down his throat

that's a thing

and now everyone is freaking out

fucking buff Donnie Darko is still a letdown compared to the literal dragonfly ok that was funny. but uh forced to deepthroat a bug kaiju at least the size of a macaw and length of a small python

outside of the thrashing and gagging as it whent down and he transformed, dude took it rather well. Didnt even throw up this lady really just owns a tiger that lives in her apartment outside of fighting monsters for work. That is not good tiger keeping

just cause yer a bad ass monster slayer doesnt mean you should have a pet tiger who lives in yer appartment when yer off work that you just let walk around unrestrained. That's bad for the tiger, its bad for you, and its bad for bystanders

[ruinedbylanadelrey]

Happy Frankie Friday<3

I have been teasing 'Delicate' for so long now. I must tell you that it's taking me forever to write because I am living it now. This fic is a love letter to my man. I am trying to not give so much away about my relationship so I am having to create a fictional way of telling the story. And also I have very little knowlegde of the US ARMY even though my dad was in it. I want to you guys to really focus on the theory of 'invisible string' when you do read the fic.

I am trying to write their relationship to be a bit sad and tragic so please forgive me in advance. But here is a snippet of their first makeout kiss:

"Sorry, I haven't had a chance to clean up, I've just been out of town for work..." Frankie had to cut himself off when you turn around smile at him and roll your eyes. "My place looks just like this, I don't judge," You close the distance between you and him, your fingers card through his curls, and his eyes flutter close and a soft hum comes him. Frankie melts under your touch, such a smiple move had him putty in your hands. 

Frankie leaned in to catch your lips between his, the taste of beer on his tongue had you getting drunk off of him. His fresh airy cologne was invading your senses, blinding you to anything that could be a red flag. The mustache above his plump lips burns your soft angel skin spreading a fire in your stomach as you deepen your lock on him with your tongue slipping past his lips and wet muscles caressing each other. Frankie groans gripping your hips tight and pressing his denim erection against your hip. You give a soft breathy moan in return for appreciating him. His hands slide up your hoodie, feeling your soft skin, Frankie's eyes roll behind his lids when he slides his hands under your shorts grabbing handfuls of the plush skin of your ass. 

[masongrizchel]

Tycho Brahe - The Stargazer

When we think of astronomy’s great pioneers, names like Galileo and Kepler often come to mind. But before telescopes revolutionized stargazing, Tycho Brahe laid the groundwork with his meticulous night sky observations. Tycho's contributions, a larger-than-life figure in personality and scientific impact, shaped the course of modern astronomy.

A Life Written in the Stars

Born in 1546 in Denmark, Tycho Brahe was a nobleman passionate about the heavens. He grew up in an era when astronomy was still tangled with astrology, yet his keen observational skills set him apart. Legend has it that Tycho lost part of his nose in a duel over a mathematical dispute—an anecdote as colorful as the man himself. He wore a brass or silver prosthetic nose for the rest of his life, adding to his mystique.

The Science of Observation

Tycho lived before telescopes were invented, but he didn’t let that limit him. He built some of his time's most advanced astronomical instruments, such as massive quadrants and armillary spheres. With these tools, he achieved unprecedented accuracy in charting the positions of stars and planets.

His careful records of celestial movements revealed patterns and anomalies that challenged the prevailing geocentric model, where Earth was considered the center of the universe. Tycho’s observations, particularly of Mars, provided the data Johannes Kepler would later use to develop his laws of planetary motion.

A Supernova Shakes the Heavens

One of Tycho’s most famous discoveries came in 1572 when he observed a "new star" in the constellation Cassiopeia. Today, we know this was a supernova, a star exploding in its final stages. At the time, it was revolutionary—medieval scholars believed the heavens were unchanging and perfect. Tycho’s detailed notes proved that change could occur in the supposedly immutable celestial realm, shaking the foundations of the Aristotelian worldview.

Uraniborg: A Palace for the Stars

In 1576, the Danish king granted Tycho the island of Hven to build Uraniborg, a state-of-the-art observatory and research center. It became a hub of astronomical innovation, where Tycho and his assistants produced detailed star catalogs and planetary tables. Though Uraniborg didn’t last long after Tycho’s departure, its legacy as the first dedicated astronomical observatory lives on.

The Tychonic Model

Tycho developed his cosmos model as a compromise between the geocentric (Earth-centered) and heliocentric (Sun-centered) systems. In Tycho’s model, Earth remained stationary at the center, while the Sun revolved around Earth, and all other planets revolved around the Sun. While ultimately incorrect, this model reflected Tycho’s resistance to completely breaking with tradition, even as he pushed the boundaries of observation.

A Legacy That Reaches the Stars

In 1599, Tycho moved to Prague to work as the Imperial Mathematician for Emperor Rudolf II. He met Johannes Kepler there, who inherited Tycho’s meticulous data after his death in 1601. Kepler used Tycho’s observations to formulate his groundbreaking laws of planetary motion, which laid the foundation for Newton’s theory of gravitation.

Did You Know?

Tycho Brahe had a pet elk, which tragically died after drinking too much beer and falling downstairs.

His supernova of 1572 is still known today as “Tycho’s Supernova.”

Despite his aristocratic background, Tycho clashed with many nobles, dramatically shifting his fortunes and eventual exile from Denmark.

The Stargazer Who Paved the Way

Tycho Brahe’s work reminds us that science is built on the shoulders of giants. His legacy isn’t just in his data but in his unwavering dedication to understanding the cosmos, even without the tools we take for granted today.

The next time you gaze at the night sky, think of Tycho—his prosthetic nose glinting under the stars, his instruments aimed upward, and his passion for the universe lighting the way for future generations.

[dyk3sh8g0d]

any idiot can ‘learn different scales on the guitar’ or ‘advanced music theory’ or ‘play a solo that’s not in the pentatonic scale’….it takes GUTS to wear leather drink beer and take your shirt off on stage

[divergentproject23hons]

Reflective account of my project

Intention of practice:

The intenation of my work was to convey the idea of shadow figures and in do so evoke uncertainty and discomfort within the viewer. I aimed to achieve this by creating my own scary, uncanny and eerie shadow figures. I found that to achieve the scary atmosphere within my work, I had to make aspects dark in lighting when taking photos, arranging the figure in strange and peculiar ways. This combined with human like faces or no face and features at all created an uncanny appearance for my work.

Materials used:

Throughout this project I utilised found objects such as; tights, stuffing, needle and thread, sand, back cheese cloth, modroc, plaster, paint, twine, and thin black linen in order to creat my shadow figures and uncanny masks.

How my concept was conveyed:

I found that to achieve the scary atmosphere within my work, I had to make aspects dark in lighting when taking photos, arranging the figure in strange and peculiar ways. This combined with human like faces or no face and features at all created an uncanny appearance for my work. For my final installation I will enhance the sinister atmosphere created by my work, by including projection, sound as well as suspending my work within a dark and enclosed structure. The darkness as well as the immersive experience of the projection and sound will hopefully cause the hairs on the back of the viewers neck to stand up as chills brush over them. The darkness within my install will almost bring my figures to life and make them more uncanny.

Artists and theory research influences:

Throughout my project I have undertaken a substantial amount of research in order to fuel my ideas. For the production of my uncanny masks I was inspired by Marnie Weber, Ralph Eugene Meatyard, and Gabriela Fridriksdottir. I also researched into the history of horror masks in cinema which was very informative and inspired some of my masks. For my shadow figures I was inspired by Louise Bourgeois, Sarah Lucas, Mire Lee, Tim Burton movie imagery (hooded figure near staircase), and Joseph Beuys. I researched into the works of Sue de Beer as well as sound art to influence my digital work of projecting video and sound. For the displaying of my work I was inspired by Cornelia Parker to suspend my work. Throughout this project I have research the theory of the uncanny valley, support surfaces, sound art, ready made art, the found object, the gothic and uncanny atmosphere within Tim Burton movies, the phenomenon of shadow people as well as Sigmund Freud’s theory on dreams.

How I planned and maintained organisation throughout the duration of this project:

I kept a weekly plan of everything I intended to do each week. This assured that I done everything that had to be done. By making a weekly plan this allowed me to stay organised and kept me on track, therefore limiting my stress.

Strengths and weaknesses:

Throughout this project I have come face to face with many challenges that I had to overcome, therefore strengthening my practice and giving me confidence as a young artist. So far my strengths have been photography and successfully making my shadow figures. I done very well to follow through on my ideas in order to convey my concept. I put a lot of thought and planning into each artwork that I made and had to problem solve and plan in advance to prepare for my installation. I have undertaken lots of research in order to gain inspiration and to fuel my ideas for my concept, I have kept on track and done all the research I intended to do. Therefore my strengths have been my motivation, determination and execution of my ideas.

What this project has done for my practice:

Overall, this project has pushed me out of my comfort zone and I have worked in ways I never thought I would. Some of the materials used and ways of working have never been a part of my practice. Hanging solutions and the build of this installation is also a way of working that is entirely new to me. I have worked with eerie and unsettling concepts before, however I have never created work conveying the phenomenon of shadow figures. I enjoyed this project and it has strengthened my abilities as an artist and has given me confidence for future works and ideas. This project has posed many problems that I had to overcome and solve. I am happy with what I have achieved with this project as it has taken my practice to a level I did not think I could reach and has therefore given me so much confidence as a young artists.

What would I have done differently?:

I would have liked to have spent more time in the photography studio with my other figures, as well as producing more video and sound.

[konmarkimageswords]

A groundbreaking dive into the role psychedelics have played in the origins of Western civilization, and the real-life quest for the Holy Grail that could shake the Church to its foundations.

The most influential religious historian of the 20th century, Huston Smith, once referred to it as the "best-kept secret" in history. Did the Ancient Greeks use drugs to find God? And did the earliest Christians inherit the same, secret tradition? A profound knowledge of visionary plants, herbs and fungi passed from one generation to the next, ever since the Stone Age?

There is zero archaeological evidence for the original Eucharist - the sacred wine said to guarantee life after death for those who drink the blood of Jesus. The Holy Grail and its miraculous contents have never been found. In the absence of any hard data, whatever happened at the Last Supper remains an article of faith for today’s 2.5 billion Christians. In an unprecedented search for real answers, The Immortality Key examines the archaic roots of the ritual that is performed every Sunday for nearly one third of the planet. Centuries in the making, religion and science converge to paint a radical picture of Christianity’s founding event. And to solve history’s greatest puzzle once and for all.

Before the rise of Christianity, the Ancient Greeks found salvation in their own sacraments. Sacred beverages were routinely consumed as part of the so-called Ancient Mysteries – elaborate rites that led initiates to the brink of death. Athens’ best and brightest flocked to the spiritual capital of Eleusis, where a holy beer unleashed heavenly visions for two thousand years. Others drank the holy wine of Dionysus to become one with the god, achieving immortality. In the 1970s, renegade scholars claimed this beer and wine - the original sacraments of Western civilization - were spiked with mind-altering drugs. In recent years, vindication for the disgraced theory has been quietly mounting in the laboratory. The constantly advancing fields of archaeobotany and archaeochemistry have suggested the use of psychedelic drinks in antiquity. And with a single dose of psilocybin, the psycho-pharmacologists at Johns Hopkins and NYU are now turning self-proclaimed atheists into instant believers.

If these sacraments survived for thousands of years in our remote prehistory, from the Stone Age to the Ancient Greeks, did they also survive into the age of Jesus? Was the original Eucharist of Christianity, in fact, a psychedelic Eucharist? Is this the real secret behind the Holy Grail?

With an unquenchable thirst for evidence, Muraresku tours the ruins of Greece with its government archaeologists. He gains access to the hidden collections of the Louvre Museum to show the continuity between pagan and Christian wine. He unravels the Ancient Greek of the New Testament with the world’s most controversial priest. He spelunks into the catacombs under the streets of Rome to decipher the lost symbols of Christianity’s oldest monuments. He breaches the secret archives of the Vatican to unearth documents never before translated into English. And with leads from the archaeological chemists at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology and the University of Pennsylvania, he unveils the first hard data for the ritualistic use of psychedelic drugs in antiquity.

The Immortality Key reconstructs a suppressed history of women consecrating the forbidden, drugged Eucharist that was later banned by the Church Fathers. Women who were later targeted as witches during the Inquisition, when Europe’s sacred pharmacology largely disappeared. If the scientists of today have resurrected this technology, then Christianity is dead. Unless it returns to its roots.

[visceravalentines]

solicitation

Murph Connors x AFAB!Reader

IT'S HERE BABES. AT LAST. this was so so far outside of my comfort zone but i'm finally happy with it I think. thank you for your patience and your love for this silly goofy guy. I just adore him and I hope you do too.

You go undercover as a sex worker, determined to nail the Major Crimes Unit for their casual disregard for the law. Unfortunately, the blonde one is...really cute.

5.1k words. Porn w/ plot. Everyone's a cop including reader. Drinking & drug use. Canon-typical douchebag behavior. Murph knows like ten words and nine of them are "fuck." Smut, fingering, very mild dirty talk. Murph is thicc iykwim. He's also a sub and reader is more dominant as a result. Creampie bc we DESERVE IT. Apologies in advance for all the side characters in this lol.

In theory, this had the potential to be a cut-and-dry operation. 

The Major Crimes Unit wasn’t exactly shy about their complete and utter disregard for the law. All laws. Every law. The running joke was that the only difference between the MCU and the guys they took down was a badge. Unfortunately, they tended to pull results out of the smoldering wreckage left in their wake, and that had lent them a truly maddening amount of immunity. 

No one had come at them from this angle, though. You were a pioneer of sorts. A pioneer with a wire taped between your boobs. 

You didn’t probably need to be wearing actual lingerie. The dress was enough. But it was a mental thing, being undercover. Started from the ground up. So you looked stunning yet attainable, sweet and a little spicy. Fun. You looked fun. This was going to be fun. 

Technically, when Detective Henderson had made the offer to you and a few of the regular corner girls to stop by suite 243 at the Haven on Vine, that had almost been enough. He had been deliberately vague about the nature of the invitation, but money had changed hands, and the implication hung in the air. You could get him for that, if you dug your nails in. 

But you didn’t just want Henderson. You wanted all of them, but most of all, you wanted O’Brien. To see that smug sonofabitch slapped with a solicitation charge? You just might sell yourself for real to make that happen. 

So you agreed, along with the rest of the girls, hitched a ride with a couple of them about an hour later. Only one of them knew you were a cop, the one who had tipped you off that the MCU went looking for party favors every Saturday night. You’d had her back a few times. She’d keep your secret to herself. 

The cacophony of three pairs of pleasers clacking up the cinder block stairwell was deafening. You made your way down the hall to 243, watched your girl rap on the door with fingers tipped bright pink and glittering. When the door flung open wide, O’Brien was standing there with a beer in one hand and a blunt in the other, all bad tattoos and worse attitude. 

“Ladies!” he boomed. “Come in, come in, please.” He stepped out of the way, ushered you in, grabbed your ass as you passed. You hid the grit of your teeth behind a silly smile, kept it pasted on as you surveyed the scene. 

The gang was all here. Detectives Henderson and Connors were hunched over a poker game. The pool was a mixture of cash, drugs, and someone’s silver lighter. Detective Magalon had cards in one hand and a hooker in the other. Detective Zapata was snorting coke off the countertop with not one but two girls, bringing the grand total of dirty cops up to five, sex workers up to six, counting you, and crimes in progress up to twelve or so. 

“Make yourselves at home,” O’Brien said. “Can I get you something, a drink, a smoke?” 

The other girls opted for drugs. You needed your wits about you, weren’t supposed to drink undercover, and so you declined altogether. This was met with general disapproval. 

“Come on,” Connors teased. He winked at you when you met his eye. He was cute, you thought. Kind of scruffy.

O’Brien levelled a stare at you from beneath his heavy brow. Much less cute. “What, you underage or something?” 

You had to play the game to win. “What do you got?” 

“Well, we’re fresh out of pina coladas. What kinda night you hoping for, honey?” O’Brien held up a bottle of vodka and a fifth of whiskey. 

Vodka always hit you hard and fast. “I’ll take the whiskey.” 

“Atta girl,” Henderson muttered. 

“Your wish, sweetheart.” O’Brien poured you a generous serving into a glass and leered at you. Maybe the whiskey was a good idea after all. You batted your eyes at him and took a delicate sip, let it seep across your tongue until the burn turned to cinnamon and cloves. He grabbed your arm and kissed your cheek as he walked by. “Let’s fucking party, boys!”

Zapata cranked the volume on the speaker thumping R&B from an iPod – a genuine third-gen iPod Touch. The room was stifling, smelled of coconut body spray and weed. This job always took you to the nicest places, but you hadn’t expected to be blasted back to a shitty house party in 2009.

You sipped your whiskey sparingly and trailed O’Brien around the room like a lovesick teenager for a while, laughing at what passed for jokes, hanging on his arm every chance you got, making sure to get every one of the men’s voices on record. You danced with one of the girls for a song or two and listened to countless stories told by dirty cops, which all amounted to basically nothing. No details, no evidence, no incrimination. Apparently, you just had to be there.

The whiskey was warm in your hand by the time you decided to give it a rest. You were putting in work and getting nowhere fast, and you truly could not stand Nick O’Brien. You choked down one more sip before tipping it quietly down the drain. You’d had too much already.

Leaning against the countertop, you tracked your mark from across the room. He took a shot, punched Magalon in the arm, dropped to the couch beside Connors. You watched him lay a heavy hand on the blonde’s shoulder, lean in close, whisper something to him that you couldn’t make out. Connors’ gaze lingered on his cards, then floated across the room and up the length of your body before meeting your eyes. 

“C’mere, princess,” he said, patting the space on the couch beside him. 

You rounded the poker game, felt both detectives watching you. “My friend here needs some company,” O’Brien said, clapping Connors on the back. 

You paused, regarding both men with doe-eyed interest. You were being pawned off, just like that. You weren’t sure whether to be relieved or offended. “What about you, baby?” 

O’Brien smirked. “Flattered, honey, but I’m married.” 

Zapata snorted. “Since when?” 

O’Brien scowled at him. “You were in the wedding party, dipshit.” 

“Uh-huh, so where’s your ring, Nick?” Henderson folded, set his hand on the table. 

O’Brien shrugged. “Left it by the sink or some shit.” He stood up and maneuvered past you with his hand on your waist, nudging you toward the couch. “Sit down, honey, Murph don’t bite unless you ask him to.” 

“That’s the truth,” Connors said as he folded too. “Borracho, you gonna show us your hand or what?” 

Magalon withdrew his tongue from behind the teeth of the girl in his lap just long enough to say, “Fold.” He threw his cards down on the table. Henderson and Connors groaned. 

“Man, you won that round,” Henderson grumbled. “You ain’t even playing.” 

You sank down onto the couch beside Connors and tried not to feel like you were being handed a consolation prize. You reminded yourself that there was evidence aplenty tucked in your cleavage. With their luck and yours, it would probably amount to a month’s suspension. A goddamn paid vacation. Fuckingridiculous.

“One more round?” Henderson asked, shuffling cards. 

“Nah.” Connors leaned back and put his arm around you, nudged you into his side. “Got better things to do.” 

You rested your hand on his ribs, looked up at him through your lashes. The night was still young. You could play this right, maybe land an actual criminal charge on at least one of them. Of course it had to be the cute one. His thumb drew circles on the bare skin of your shoulder. 

“Hey.” He smiled at you. He had killer eyes, you noticed. Sky fucking blue. “What’s your name, baby?” 

“Selene.” 

“Selene,” he repeated. You liked his voice. Had that been your real name, you’d have butterflies. “Name’s Murph.” 

 ”Is that short for something?”

He chuckled. He’d probably been answering that question his whole life. “Nah. Just Murph.”

You examined him up close. He had a tattoo on his neck, the most basic compass rose you’d ever seen, black ink bleeding a little from age and sun exposure. You wondered if he’d been a sailor in a former life, maybe ex-Navy. His shirt was a size too small, clinging to him like a second skin, tight on his biceps.

“You work out, Murph?” you asked. Low-hanging fruit.

“Every day, baby.”

“That's about all Murph does,” Henderson said, shuffling the deck. “Can’t get rid of the double chin under that beard though.”

“What do you do, Henderson?” Murph shot back. “’Cause I never see you at the gym, skinny motherfucker.”

“C’mon man, you know if Gus ain't working he's praying,” Zapata offered from the kitchen. 

“Look, I'm a man of faith,” Henderson said as he pulled the pot towards him with a glance at Magalon, who could not have cared less.

Zapata scoffed. “Name one book in the Bible, dude. One.”

Murph pulled you in closer to be heard over the sound of their bickering. His cologne was smokey and musky, made your nose tingle. “I don’t just work out.”

You cracked a smile at his defensive tone. “What else do you do?”

You felt his nose against your temple, his beard bristly on your cheek. “I surf, too. You like the beach?” His lips at your ear sent chills down your arms.

“I love the beach.” You hated the beach.

“You surf?”

“I’ve tried it once or twice.” An outright lie. “I’m not very good at it.”

“Bet you look hot as fuck in a bikini.” 

“I do, actually.” This was true.

His gaze flicked to your mouth and back up. “What do you do for fun, princess?”

You cocked your head. “You mean, besides this?”

Murph laughed. “Yeah. Besides this.”

“I like to cook. I jog. Got a couple dogs, take them to the park on weekends.”

“You ever been to the dog park on 11th? Real nice, has a little obstacle course and shit.”

“How long does it take you to run through it, Murph?” Zapata interrupted.

“About the same amount of time as it takes to fuck your mother.” You snorted and he snickered in your ear, conspiratorial. “Got him.”

Morons, every one of them. You couldn’t keep from rolling your eyes.

Murph didn’t seem to notice. “C’mere, baby.”

He patted his knee and you slid into his lap, looped an arm around his neck. Your tits were nearly in his face and you had to sneak a surreptitious glance down the front of your dress to make sure that the mic wasn’t visible. His jeans were rough on the bare skin of your thighs. He held you against him with one big hand splayed on your waist, the other on your ass, and gave you a squeeze. “You’re fine as fuck, girl.”

You ran your hand over his stomach. Considerable muscle was tucked beneath the foundation of a beer gut. He probably looked good without a shirt, wet and sandy. Too bad you hated the beach.

“You wanna take this somewhere else?” you murmured. Risky. You were skirting the line. You couldn’t actually offer him anything, not even verbally. You had to be vague enough to leave space for a lawyer to argue it had been Murph’s idea to pay you for sex.

He looked at you with interest, almost made you wish these were better circumstances. His lashes were long and thick. You imagined, just for a moment, how it would feel to watch those pretty eyes roll back. How he sounded in bed. You had to cut that train of thought off quick as you felt it shoot straight to your pussy. You were working, for God’s sake.

For a second, you were sure he was going to proposition you right then and there. The promise of it hung in the meager air between you. But then his mouth twisted into a wry smile and he let you down easy with a kiss on your cheek. “Not yet, princess. Night’s still young.”

He looked away, threw an insult at Zapata, got sucked into a mind-numbing conversation about baseball statistics. You were relegated back to accessory status with his hand trailing aimlessly up and down your thigh.

With determination bordering on desperation, you kept working on him, keying him up a little at a time, making sure he didn’t forget about you. You ran your fingers through his hair, drew circles on his chest. For all he was barely paying you attention, you were terribly distracted by him, kept catching yourself admiring his profile. Your knee was nestled against his crotch and you found yourself thinking he probably had a gorgeous cock. He had just the right amount of swagger for it.

Christ. You dug your nails into your palm to snap yourself out of it. Goddamn whiskey was making you spacey. You were not, in fact, here to get laid. You were here to score something more than a slap on the wrist for bad behavior. A department transfer at least, jail time at best. Breaking up the boys’ club either way.

Across the coffee table, Magalon finally decided to stop dry humping his girl in full view of everyone. He untangled himself to escort her into one of the two bedrooms amidst a chorus of howls and ribbing, threw a theatrical wink over his shoulder before swinging the door shut behind him.

“Get it, my man,” Henderson said with a lazy salute.

“It was just gettin’ good,” O’Brien complained. “I got half a boner here.”

Spurred on by the knowledge there was one bedroom left and four girls looking to make an actual business transaction tonight, you figured it was time for desperate measures. You’d already lost O’Brien; you weren’t about to let the night end without a victory.

“Murph, baby,” you whined softly. You had his attention immediately. The expression on his face was so open and earnest that a fleeting thrum of guilt flitted through your chest.

You stroked his cheek and leaned in slow, giving him the opportunity to deflect you, but he didn’t. His lips were soft and he met your kiss with surprising gentleness. He tasted like weed smoke when you slipped your tongue over the threshold of his mouth. You felt his hands tighten their grip on you just a little bit, like he was looking to stabilize himself.

The room filled with hoots and exaggerated moans from your audience and it was enough, you had him, but you didn’t stop and neither did he. His cock twitched against your leg and you let out a small sound of satisfaction, forgetting for a minute that none of this was real. Your hand slid to his neck. His skin was hot under your fingers.

When he broke the kiss and leaned back, he regarded you with a look on his face like he’d underestimated you. His lip shone with your spit. You wanted to suck on it.

“Get outta here?” he mumbled. You nodded and rose unsteadily from his lap. He took your hand and picked his way past the coffee table, leading you to the other bedroom.

“Make good choices,” O’Brien called. “Use protection.”

Murph flipped him off before swinging the door shut behind you.

You turned and opened your mouth to back him into a corner, ask him just what he was hoping for, but his hands were on your waist and he was kissing you again before you got the chance to speak. You meant to push him off – of course you did – but you balled up his shirt in your fists instead, parted your lips for his tongue. He groaned low in his throat and you pressed yourself against him.

“Fuck,” he muttered, backing you toward the bed until your knees hit the mattress and you dropped to a seat.

“Murph –”

“You’re so fucking sexy.” He braced himself on the mattress and bent to kiss the skin below your ear.

“Murph, wait –”

“Tell me, how long have you been a cop?”

You froze. Had you heard him right? “…what?”

He lifted his head and met your eyes, a smug, reproving smile on his face. “Nick clocked you in the first fifteen minutes, baby. Told me to keep you busy. This ain’t our first rodeo.”

Your mouth dropped open in shock. You had no words.

Even in the wan yellow light filtering in through the blinds, you could tell he was enjoying himself. “What you wearing under that dress? A thong? A wire?”

“…both.”

Murph grinned. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,” he said loudly, “let the record show she kissed me first. That’s entrapment, detective.”

You scowled. “Fuck you.”

“Now let’s talk about that,” he said. “You seem pretty committed to the bit, huh?”

You hesitated. “I…I don’t….”

“It’s okay. The thing is, I really want to fuck you too. Don’t pretend like you haven’t been thinking about it all night,” he said, cutting off your protest before it could materialize. “Bet that thong’s nice and wet, huh?”

You smacked his arm. “You’re an ass.”

“I know it.” He leaned back, gave you a little space. “Look at it this way. You absolutely can’t use that recording now, right? So this has been one hell of a waste of your time.”

“Looks like it,” you shot back.

“It doesn’t have to be.” There it was again, that sweet, sincere expression. “Let me make your night, princess. We’re two consenting adults.”

“No way.”

“Why not? I’ll even tell Nick he was wrong and you are just a whore.”

You scoffed. “What an offer.”

Murph chuckled. “Come on, baby doll. You know you want to.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek, mind racing. He was right, any evidence you’d managed to collect had gone up in smoke the moment he’d outed you on tape. For all intents and purposes, after you left, you were never here. And if he could shield you from Nick O’Brien’s wrath….

He tucked his finger beneath your chin and leaned in. “Please?”

Your breath caught. You did want him. You let your eyes drift shut as his lips found yours. His kiss lacked any hint of malice, was all softness and sensuality. Your hands hovered to his face and you caved, kissing him back, kissing him harder, grabbing his shoulders to tug him on top of you.

To your surprise, he resisted. “Mm – hey.”

“Shut up.”

“Wait.” He pulled back. “Probably best we get that wire off, huh?”

You narrowed your eyes. “The wire, or the dress?”

Murph shrugged. “Both. I’ll get naked too, if it makes you feel better.”

He peeled his shirt off and you were right, he looked damn good without one. The hair on his chest was blonde and curly, the hair on his stomach a shade darker, disappearing into his boxers. He had a tattoo of a shark on his left hip. You shimmied out of your dress and there was the mic taped securely between your breasts, the wire running down your stomach to a small receiver at your hip.

“Fuck.” He reached out and peeled it off, the brush of his thumb sending goosebumps flaring across your skin. “You’re gorgeous, girl.”

You grabbed him by the beltloops. “Come here.”

“Whatever you say.”

He sprawled on top of you and you caught him on your lips, scrambling up the mattress and pulling him along with you. He scooped you into his arms and rolled onto his side, hitched your leg over his hip, grabbed at your ass. You palmed him through his jeans and he threw his head back and moaned.

“Pants are too fuckin’ tight,” he complained.

“Whose fault is that?”

“Yours.”

You undid his fly and slid your hand into his pants, feeling him up through his boxers. He was thick. He writhed as you stroked him purposefully, caught between working his jeans off and melting into your touch.

“What’s the matter?” you teased.

“Driving me fucking crazy. Hold on. Fuck.” He swatted your hand away and stripped off everything at once and you must’ve been on your game at least a little bit tonight because he did indeed have a gorgeous cock. You wrapped your hand around it before he could even settle back beside you and he groaned, collapsing onto his back.

“Jesus Christ, Murph.” Your fingers only just met around his girth. “You’re huge.”

“I know,” he grumbled. “We can take it slow, it’s – fuck – it’s okay.”

You didn’t expect him to be so considerate. “That’s awfully sweet of you.”

“It’s nothing, c’mere. Let me touch you.” He slipped his fingers past your panties and you sighed as he eased them along your slit. You could feel how wet you already were. So could he. “Goddamn…you want it bad, huh?”

“Been pressed up against you all night.”

When his thumb found your clit you jerked and gasped. “Take it easy, baby, I got you. Like that?” He worked you in soft, slow circles that had you bucking against his hand.

“Yeah. Like that.”

You were wound up and desperate for him by the time he pushed his fingers into you, cursing under his breath at the sound they made as he scissored them in and out. The man could multitask, rutting into your hand as he fucked you with his fingers. His kisses were sloppy, without pretense. When you squeezed his balls he moaned shamelessly into your mouth.

“You like that?” you asked him coyly.

“Yeah.”

“Feels good?”

“Feels so fucking good. Get on top of me, girl.”

You obliged, straddling his hips, holding his dick where you wanted so you could grind against him. His head lolled and he let out a vocal sigh, grabbing at the blanket, grabbing at your waist, arching his spine. You were torn between watching his face and watching his cock part your lips as you rocked back and forth. When you reached behind your back to tug at his balls again he whined.

“Need to be inside you, baby, please?”

“I don’t know if I’m ready yet.” You were absolutely ready.

He squeezed his eyes shut, furrowed his brow. “That’s fine, yeah. That’s okay.”

“I can try….” You lowered yourself onto him slowly, so slowly, easing just the head of his cock into you.

“God – fucking – “

“How’s that?”

“So good, baby, that’s so g – fuck.” He bit his lip hard as you sank a little further down. “It’s perfect, you’re perfect.”

You sighed in bliss. “You gonna cum already, Connors?”

“No way. I’m good. You good?”

“I’m great.”

You took him all the way at a glacial pace just to see him squirm, half an inch at a time until he filled you completely. His gaze was locked on your pussy, stretched snug around him, and when his eyes finally wandered up to meet yours his pupils were blown in the darkness.

“Fuck me?” he said breathlessly.

You rolled your hips slow and he groaned, gripping the flesh of your thighs. You rode him lazily, reveling in every little sound that escaped from his mouth, the way his lashes fluttered when you switched up the angle. When he fumbled for your clit in the meager light you took his hand and guided him to it, letting out a soft squeak when he found it. Your cunt clenched tight and he shuddered.

“Easy, tiger.” You slid your hands up his stomach, over his chest. When your thumbs brushed across his nipples he responded with a broken moan and a full-body flinch. “Oh, sweet boy.” He was done for.

You bent low over him and laved your tongue around his nipple, sucking greedily, worrying the other one between your fingers. He choked out a sound that was downright indecent, tangling his hand in your hair and grinding up into you, helpless and needy. The change in position pressed his cock to your g-spot and you rabbited your hips in short, quick thrusts until you were both frenzied and panting.

His beard was coarse as you combed your fingers through it, admiring his flushed and handsome face. “Pretty boy. You feel so good.”

“You’re hot as fuck,” he muttered, shaking his head. “That pussy is – fuck.”

You smiled at him. He was sexy like this, so thoroughly dazed and disheveled, whimpering when you flexed around him. “What are you gonna give me if I let you cum inside?”

“A million dollars,” he said immediately. “Are you for real? Two million dollars.”

You laughed. “No way you have two million dollars.”

“I can get it.” He said it like he meant it.

You gripped his hair and kissed him, lapping at his tongue. His big hands were warm and gentle on your waist. “How about you let me finish first?”

“How about I let you finish first and I give you my number?”

“Is that for my benefit or yours?”

“Mutual benefit, baby doll.”

“Deal.”

His muscles flexed under your hands as he sat up and adjusted you in his lap, wrapping his arms around you, kissing you hungrily. He dug his nails into your back as your mouth wandered down his neck, licking the sweat from his skin, blazing a trail of love bites and kisses, sucking a sultry purple hickey into the center of his tattoo.

“I got work in the morning,” he protested weakly.

“Good,” you said. “They’re gonna love it.”

He offered you his thumb and you wrapped your lips around it, watching his expression turn desperate as you sucked a shade past innocence. He tugged it from your mouth with a pop, snaked his hand between your bodies and felt for your clit.

You made a soft, dreamy sound when he stroked you just right. He was damn good with his hands. “Let me make you feel good, baby,” he murmured. “Wanna make that pussy fucking drip.”

You let him work you up for a minute and then took up a gradual rhythm, eyes closed, grinding on him with intention. Wave after wave of steady-building sensation coursed through you, tightening the clutch of your body around him. You were so full, pulled tight, the friction addictive. You could feel it, that swing and pull like gravity, his body coaxing yours to the brink.

“That’s it, princess, let me see it.”

You pawed at his shoulders. “Murph….”

“You gonna cum for me?” he breathed.

“Yes – God –”

“Fuck, you better cum for me, I can’t –”

You felt the swell of your release in your core and cried out, burying your face in his shoulder and clawing at his biceps, riding him through it. Pleasure washed through your veins. Your cunt spasmed in staccato bursts, stretched to its limit.

Murph inhaled sharply, his whole body tense. You felt him quiver inside you. “Baby – baby – please –”

Hazy and gratified, you strung kisses along his jaw, snapped your hips until he started to come apart. “Come on, big boy, cum for me.”

With satisfaction, you watched his eyes roll back as he let go and it was better than you’d imagined, the way his lips parted and a strangled groan twisted free, the way he threw his head back like some feral animal under the moon. You gasped at the throb and pulse of him inside you, sending vestigial sparks spiraling off into your core.

He slumped forward with his forehead pressed to yours and let out a heavy sigh. “Fuck,” he mumbled.

“Fuck,” you agreed.

You moved to extricate yourself and he grunted, tightened his arms around you. “You got somewhere to be?”

“We should probably get back out there.” You had no idea how much time had passed. The music was still going strong in the next room; you couldn’t imagine anyone had called it a night.  

He pressed a kiss to your temple. “No way, baby.”

You laughed, smoothing his hair back from his brow. “We can’t stay in here.”

“We could,” he said. “We could sleep here.”

You shook your head. “O’Brien’s going to be pissed at you.”

“He’s always pissed. Don’t bring him up. This is a nice moment.”

With a laugh, you said, “You’re right. It is.”

You laid your head on his shoulder and listened to his heartbeat for a few minutes more before pulling away in spite of his protests. “You’re breaking my heart,” he complained.

“You’ll have to text me later so I can break it again.”

“Do you need a ride home?”

“No, I’ll call a cab.”

“You don’t want a police escort?”

“I’m a fucking cop, Murph.”

“Oh. Right.” He watched you dress. “What’s your name? Your real name.”

You told him, smiled when he repeated it to himself. “Do you really surf?”

“All the time. I love it.”

“I have a confession. I hate the beach.”

Murph gave you a crooked smile. “Bet I can change your mind.”

He offered his arm to stabilize you as you stepped into your absurdly high heels, wound the wire around his hand neatly and gave it to you to hide away in your bra. He called after you as you made for the door. “Hey.”

You turned. He sat on the edge of the bed, hair mussed, light from the streetlamp out the window cutting lines across his bare chest.

“Kiss me goodnight?” he said without a hint of sarcasm.

Fuck, he was cute. You wobbled back across the carpet and took his face in your hands, kissed him long and sweet. “Goodnight, tiger.”

He took your hand as you pulled away and kissed your fingers, and then finally, reluctantly let you go. “’Night, princess.”

You slipped back into the main room, met the chorus of heckling with a beatific smile. You exchanged a few words with your girl from the corner, let her know you wouldn’t need a ride home. She gave you a look; you gave it right back; she gave you a subtle nod of approval.

On your way out you shot a glance at O’Brien. You couldn’t help it. He had a look on his face that could curdle milk, watching you like a hawk. You supposed it was alright you hadn’t managed to get very far with him, all things considered.

You gave him a delicate finger wave, blew him a kiss. “Thanks for the invite.”

“Get the fuck out.”

You winked at him as you ducked out the door. “Your wish, sweetheart.”

[thebisexualdogdad]

Hey, can i request "kiss me and youll find out" with lena? thx anyhow

"Lena Luthor, nice to see you as always," you say from behind the bar stand, pulling out a wine glass and a very expensive bottle of wine.

"You know me so well Y/N," she chuckles at you not even needing to ask what she wants.

"To be fair you are my only customer who can afford anything from the top shelf," you joke as you pour her a drink.

"So how has your night been?" She asks.

"I've only had to break up one drunken fight so it's been a good night," you crack, "I saw you on the news again today, you're developing a new cancer treatment right?"

"In theory it'll be less invasive for patients and far less expensive but my research and development team have hit a few snags," she explains.

"You'll figure it out, you're like the smartest person in the world," you tell her.

"Thank you Y/N but smartest person in the world might be a bit of a stretch," she says with a slight blush.

"You own one of the most advanced medical and tech companies in the world, you are definitely in the running."

"Another beer Y/N and put it on my tab," one of your regulars says, breaking your conversation.

You slide a beer across the counter and turn your attention back to Lena.

"I was supposed to take my break twenty minutes ago, you want to go to the back alley with me? I'm sorry that sounded really creepy. I mean I got an extra sandwich if you want it and could use some company," you laugh nervously.

"I forgot to eat dinner so I would love a sandwich," she smiles.

You two head to the alley behind the bar, sitting on the boxes you set up as makeshift chairs.

"I'm sure this is equally as glamorous as your usual dinners," you tease as you both eat the sandwiches you had made.

"Oh yeah, every high end restaurant in town has flies and the smell of rotten fish," she chuckles.

"That would be courtesy of the seafood market two doors down, let's just say their two for one tuna sale didn't do very well."

"I don't mind, it's nice just being here with you," she tells you.

"I'm sure you say that to every bartender that gives you a homemade sandwich," you joke.

"Only the cute ones," she replies.

"So you think I'm cute?" You grin.

"Very."

"And what would you say if I've been wanting to ask you out on a date since the first time you walked into my bar?" You say boldly.

"Kiss me and you'll find out," she says, inching closer to you.

You meet her halfway and kiss her, a slight taste of mayo leftover on her lips.

"Ask me how my night has been now," you say with a smirk.

"How's your night been Y/N?" She says playing along.

"The best night of my life," you say, kissing her again.

[ghostcultmagazine]

Slipknot’s Knotfest.com Launches an Exclusive Monthly Beer Subscription Club

Slipknot’s Knotfest.com Launches an Exclusive Monthly Beer Subscription Club

Knotfest.com, the cultural home for metalheads on the web run by the band Slipknot has launched a by-subscription, exclusive monthly beer club! The Knotfest Beer Pit. Inside the pit, you’ll get access to an in-depth tasting experience with the highest quality beers from the most exciting and metal breweries in the world They believe fans of aggressive music deserve aggressive beers. The inaugural…