#but i need to get my cell service fixed first

[sadesluvr]

Turbulence

You join the mile-high club with a mysterious English gentleman. 

A/N: First BT fic! Been obsessed with this movie, and just had to make something with one of our favourite assassins. I had to do a weird amount of research on flying for this... It won’t be my last so follow for more! :)

Set pre movie. 

Word count: 2.5K 

Tags: SMUT / Porn with little plot / Minor spoilers for references in Bullet Train (2022) / Unprotected sex / Creampies / Hookups / Mentions of birth control / Quickies / Canon-typical language / Canon-typical banter / Minors + Ageless blogs DNI

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome onboard Flight 4B7 to Tokyo. We are currently second in line for take-off and are expected to be in the air in approximately five minutes time. At this time, we ask you to please fasten your seatbelts and secure all baggage underneath your seat or in the overhead compartments. Please turn off all personal electronic devices, including laptops and cell phones. Smoking is prohibited for the duration of the flight. I’m Goldie, and thank you for choosing our airline. Enjoy your flight!” 

Hanging the speaker up, you smoothed out your skirt as you fixed yourself to take the final walk before take-off. ‘Goldie’ wasn’t your real name of course, but a nickname given to you by a sleazy boss. You would’ve hated it, but you found that it greatly helped with creepy passengers who were searching for a place in the coveted ‘mile high club’, or those who simply flew with the intention of sleeping with flight attendants across the world. On the contrary, it was always cute when toddlers cooed your name from across the plane, calling for you as if you’d known them their entire life.  

As you pushed past the curtain to the business class, your eyes fell on a pair of men; one dark-skinned with curly dyed hair, the other with long, slicked back hair and a moustache. They wouldn't have been anything out of the ordinary had the moustached man not been holding a phone to his ear. Great. There was always at least one person who never listened to the announcements, but there was something about those who rode in first or business class that held a different kind of entitlement entirely. 

Swallowing, you put on your best customer service and sauntered over to them. The dark-skinned man noticed you first, raising his brows before nudging the one next to him, who seemed deep into an important, but strained, conversation. 

“...Yeah, yeah. We get the kid and the briefcase, then the train to Kyoto...Yes, we know who we’re dealing with, I forwarded Lemon the briefing. Right, can we go now? Take-offs in two minutes --” 

“Excuse me,” you cut in. “You’re going to need to hang that up...” 

The man did a double take, holding his phone away from his ear as he glanced up at you. If it wasn’t his old English accent that captivated you, it was his eyes, a striking blue with hints of grey that seemed to stare directly into your soul.  

“I’m going now.” He said snarkily to the person on the phone before hanging up, placing the object into the pocket of his navy-blue suit before staring up at you with a charming, but cheeky smile. 

“My apologies darlin’,” he said, his voice as smooth as butter. “Work won’t give us a break.”  

“Don’t I know it?” you replied, shifting your weight as you prepared to move on. “Thank you, sir. Enjoy your flight...” you said before looking down at his hands; strong and adorned with gold rings.  

“...Nice watch.” You finished with a knowing smile. Given the parts of the broken conversation you’d heard, and the elaborate way they were dressed, you figured that they were at least some kind of secret service members - not that it was any of your business, of course. Still, there was something particularly arousing about the blue-eyed man in the three-piece navy suit with the nice watch, and you couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if you broke your ‘no-sex-on-the-job’ rule, just this once. If he wasn’t busy with mission stuff, of course. 

“Thank you, sweetheart.” He replied, the corners of his eyes wrinkling as he smiled, watching you as you walked off, admiring the questionably short length of your skirt in the process. Sitting back in his seat, he chuckled to himself before turning to see his brother Lemon hastily swiping through the movie selection on the screens. 

“The fuck are you doing?” 

“Tryin’ to see if they’ve got Thomas...” Lemon said matter-of-factly. “It’s alright though. I always come prepared.” he finished, tapping his laptop pointedly. Tangerine frowned, shaking his head as he sat back in his seat, side eyeing you as you made your way to your jumpseat in the corner.  

It was going to be a long journey, but at least he had a nice view. 

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

As soon as it had been safe to take seatbelts off, you’d wasted no time in making your way back down to the business area. The best part about the job was that you were able to walk about, getting a good glimpse at the passengers you thought were attractive – all under the guise of providing good customer service. The man with watch was reading a book, whilst the other seemed engrossed with whatever was on the screen, with his fingers covering his face in a concerned manner. They seemed like polar opposites, yet seemed to work so well together, something that made your job a lot easier when it came to seating passengers. If only everyone was like them. 

If it hadn’t been obvious, you were rather interested in the blue-eyed gentleman in particular. Whilst he hadn’t given you definite signs he was interested, you fixed your make up in your compact mirror regardless, and opened a button on your blouse so it was just a little lower than industry guidelines. It never hurt to try, and it certainly wasn’t as if you were going to see him again. 

Smiling, you guided a cart down the narrow aisles, stopping at the pair of men. 

“Refreshments?” 

The dark-skinned man, ‘Lemon’, as he had been referred to, answered first, eagerly pausing his screen to speak to you. 

“I’d love somethin’, love,” he said, holding the same accent as his partner. “D’ya have anything fizzy?” 

“Of course,” you hummed. “We have Coke – regular, Diet and Zero, Dr Pepper, Sprite, some SanPellegrino --” 

“I’ll have a Coke, love. Make it Diet...” he said, and you nodded, quickly finding the box for the right can. “It’s a shame ya don’t do any bubble milk tea up here...I got a real craving for one...” 

You laughed as you handed him the can. “Luckily for you Tokyo is full of great places to get one. You probably could even find one in their vending machines...Don’t get those in the West, do you?” 

“Certainly not in London,” he chuckled, opening the can and taking a swig before pursing his lips and tapping a finger on his chin. “Say, I don’t suppose you could settle a little argument for me, could you?”  “Oh here we go...” the other man interjected, drawing himself from his book to huff and look between the two of you. “Fucking unbelievable.” 

Lemon rolled his eyes.  

“That SanPellegrino of yours...Which flavour do you sell the most?” 

You bit your lip. 

“Depends...It’s usually lemon because people think it might taste like lemonade. The orange one never goes to waste, though...” 

Lemon gave the other man a pointed look, and he scoffed before looking at you. 

“Not to completely waste your time, love, but if you had to choose between a lemon or a tangerine...” he didn’t finish, probably because it would’ve pained him to, and moved his hands as if he were balancing weights on scales.  

You stared blankly between the two men, confused but utterly endeared. 

“Tangerines are good on their own, but lemons are far more versatile...”  “See?” Lemon said triumphantly, celebrating with himself before shaking your hand. “Pleasure doing business with you, darlin’.” He grinned before restarting his movie, moving on as if nothing had happened. You chuckled to yourself, conscious of the hundred other guests that needed you, but looked back to lock eyes with the other man, ready to ask him the same question. He wore a knowing smirk on his face, the curve of his pink lips still evident under his thick moustache and tutted chidingly. 

“Really thought you’d be on my side there, sweetheart,” he sighed. “Suppose you can’t trust everyone, can you?” 

“I’m sorry,” you pouted. “You must give it to him though. Lemons are pretty good.” 

“Darlin’ I don’t have a problem with the message, but the messenger,” he said, nodding to the man next to him. “He’s a grown arse lad watching Thomas, that one.” 

You chuckled, glimpsing at the screen to see that it was indeed correct. Shaking your head, you scanned the crafted features of his face before raising a brow. 

“So, what’s your poison?” 

“A gorgeous lady pushing a cart, it seems.” 

“Smooth,” you hummed, unable to ignore the way a dangerous heat shot through your stomach and down to your core, making your legs feel like jelly. He’d hardly done anything, and yet you were under his spell. “What would you like to drink?” 

“Nothin’ at the moment, love,” he grinned. “I’m a bit peckish, if anythin’...” 

Sighing, you quickly checked the man out again, this time eyeing his body. Broad shoulders, muscular thighs, thick legs...The total package.  

“Hurry, up! I’m thirsty!” Someone from across the aisles said. The man was about to argue, but you halted him, nodding in the direction where the voice came from.  

“I tell you what,” you said softly, lowering your voice as you stared into his eyes, your composure so controlled that it would’ve been impossible to tell that your heart was pounding in your chest as you spoke. “-- Us staff have our own snacks. If you meet me by the toilets in fifteen, I can get you some...” 

“Don’t leave me hangin’, sweetheart.” The man grinned, not-so subtly uncrossing his legs and giving a cheeky wink before you headed off down the aisle. Gripping onto the handle of the cart, you tried your hardest to walk straight, excitement boiling in your loins as you counted down those fifteen crucial minutes with every strained smile at a customer. 

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

He was there when you arrived. 

“Took ya’ long enough -” was all he said before cupping your cheeks and pulling you into a passionate kiss, pressing your body against the wall of the bathroom. It was by far the most glamorous place to have sex, but there was something about the sleaziness of it all (with such a put-together man, nonetheless) that made it that more enticing. His scent was an ode to his masculinity; aromatic and woody, and it consumed you as he kissed down your neck, nipping at your collarbone as his large hands caressed the sides of your body. You moaned, writhing your front against his pelvis, desperate to feel the outline of his erection against your own. Admittedly, you weren’t entirely sure what to do with your hands, settling to drape them around his neck in fear of messing up his hair. He seemed like a man who took pride in his appearance, and he certainly wasn’t going to be able to fix it up in an airplane bathroom. 

“Feel me, darling. I don’t bite...” he whispered, his hands now sliding between your thighs as he fought to push your panties to the side. You took this as a hint, and you combed your fingers through his roots with one hand, whilst the other fumbled to undo the button on his trousers, difficult to do with his considerable bulge. You let out a broken gasp as you felt his cock, likely over average sized with a nice girth, and he shuddered in response. 

“Goldie, is it? You’re a naughty one...” he sighed, slipping a finger into your wet cunt. 

“Mhmmm,” you crooned. “’S nickname. I don’t suppose you’ll give me yours?” 

“You’re a bright bird, ‘m sure ya figured it out.” 

“Tangerine, huh?” you hummed, throwing your head back as he began to finger fuck you, his gold rings adding the extra girth that would prepare you nicely for his cock. “I like tangerines...” 

“Ya didn’t seem to back there.” 

“Well, give me a reason to...” you chuckled, and he grinned, grunting before he hoisted your leg up around his waist, his cock dangerously near your entrance. 

“Better be quick,” you teased, staring at him through your lashes. “They’ll get suspicious if I’m not back in five.” 

Tangerine chuckled.  

“I can do that. Just know it’s not a reflection of me at my best.” he sniffed. 

“Good to know.” 

Your words were unfounded as he pushed into you, his girth filling you completely as you moulded perfectly around his cock, gripping onto his shirt as he began to buck his hips. The man grunted, accosting himself to the feel of your warm, wet hole – raw and unfiltered, sighing into the nape of your neck as he fucked you. He steadied himself with his hands, gripping onto your thigh with one as the other rested above you, lending him the luxury of staring into your eyes as he drilled you. 

“God...” you panted, your lips wet and raw from his kisses. “T-Tan -- You’re so good...” 

“That’s it, love,” he beckoned, words rolling off his tongue like honey as he rolled his hips deeper into you. “Say my name...” 

“Tangerine...” you whined, eyes fluttering shut as you drowned out the vacuum-like ambience around you, focusing on the small grunts and sweet nothings the man whispered into your ear, his warm breath sending chills up your spine. The room around you was making a slight creaking sound, and you barely even cared that your calf was banging slightly against the door.  

With every passing second his thrusts became more focused, solely intended to bring you both to that point of ecstasy- yet you didn’t doubt that Tangerine was the kind of man who made sure you finished, even if he himself didn’t.  

His hair was beginning to become undone now, brown strands falling in front of his face, just barely clouding his vision, but enough to make him look even hotter. Both of your shirts became more and more dishevelled as he pressed up against you, the muffled sound of his clothed thigh against your bare ones becoming more frequent as he growled, the sound coming from deep within his muscular chest. 

“Fucking hell, darlin’...’M gonna make a mess...” he hissed through laboured breaths. “I’ve gotta pull out --” 

“It’s alright,” you lulled, and you could’ve sworn that his cock twitched at the phrase. “I’m on the pill...” 

“You naughty girl...You’re gonna get me in trouble --” he groaned, throwing his head back as he gave you a few fast and sloppy pumps, shutting his eyes as you clamped down on him during your own release, creaming around his cock as he filled you with his own. You dug your nails into his clothes as you rode off your respective highs, hair and clothes askew as he rubbed small circles your trembling leg before lowering it to the ground. 

Panting, there was a brief silence as you dressed yourselves, with Tangerine preening himself in the tiny mirror. 

“You look good as gold.” You said with a smirk, fixing your hat.  

“Thanks,” he said with a broad smile, popping some gum into his mouth as he looked you up and down. “You’re a dime a dozen, y’know? Fly this route often?” 

“Sometimes,” you hummed, opening the door so that the sign no longer read ‘occupied’. “Why, are you thinking of coming back?” 

“I’ll be headed to Kyoto,” he said, looking around before he stepped out. “Maybe I’ll catch you there.” 

“Yeah,” you grinned, fixing the final button on your shirt. He’ fucked you so good you could barely even remember what your next journey was. “Maybe.” 

[accidentwithapen]

Hiii!!! GIGS in Space AU Once Again on my mind so heres a quick plot rundown allll put in one post

If you read through this all i love you <3

If not, have this grian doodle anyways

So Grian, Scar, Impulse, and Skizz are all prisoners in this like,,, dystopian space society. All are imprisoned for different reasons:

- Grian is a vandalist, doing graffiti and setting minor explosions around different government/company sites. When arrested and asked why he does what he does, he claims "it's about the principal"

- Impulse worked as a mechanic for a major company, but an incident resulting in a death and 3 injuries gets wrongfully pinned on him. He still believes that all circumstances surrounding his arrest are just one big misunderstanding. The company, however, doesnt care.

- Skizz is a hacker, and good at it too. He logs into the system of the same company Impulse worked for, and subsequently gets caught red-handed.

- Nobody knows why Scar is arrested. There are many rumors spread around the prison wing that he and Grian are in that Scar is Secretly A Mob Boss for the Con Corp. family. But surely someone so clumsy and silly cant possibly be so powerful, right? thats what Grian thinks, anyways.

So these doofuses have two options.

1. they can serve their sentence rotting in a shitty space prison with Nothing To Do and being forced into manual labor

2. they can get out slightly earlier after enough time spent doing Community Service

They go for the second one, which Happens to be gathering extraterrestrial data for Impulse's old Company (i need a name for it dear god its ridiculous at this point). So after all independently choosing the community service option, they get grouped into a squad of the four of them and get sent out to different semi-abandoned planets to hunt monsters/ghosts/aliens and collect data. What they eventually figure out is that the reason they are given so much freedom with their community service is that they are not intended to survive. They devise an escape plan and on their third mission together, they successfully escape together.

Its important to note that Scar and Grian came from the same cell block, so Grian decides to tell Skizz and Impulse about the mob boss rumors (as a prank, of course), and warns them that Scar Doesn't Like Swearing. basically scaring everyone into facing these cosmic horrors with a PG attitude

So the GIGS escape with a real shitty spacecraft and are on the run from the government (theres no way they're gonna succeed like this) up until they get captured. but not by the government.

They get captured by morally gray, filthy rich, weapons manufacturer Doc. (or his hitman at least, one Geminitay)

Doc explains to the GIGS that he has paid all of their bail fees, and now they must work off their debt to him. as delivery boys.

Doc enlists Gem to look after the GIGS during their deliveries. Gem Does Not Like This but shes not gonna say no to her boss.

Basically the rest of it is a silly stupid sci fi sitcom about funny found family doing goofy delivery missions and learning more about each other along the way.

Oh, and remember those rumors about Scar? Theyre all true. And there are Consequences for his absence in the family....

Heres some extra little character notes:

- While Impulse believes his arrest was a genuine mistake at first, during their second bout of community service, he and skizz discover how little the company actually cares about its employees and Impulse gets real mad that his entire livelihood is a lie and goes ham and wrecks some shit (good for him)

- Gem was taken in by Doc at a very young age, with life-threatening injuries. Doc used his experience with mad sciencery to fix her up with whatever he had on hand, mostly animal parts. now shes a hybrid.

- Gem sees Doc as a father figure, but has No Clue how to express that so from her perspective shes just Really Loyal to her boss and doing nothing more than paying off a life debt.

- Grian has a mycelium infection running up his arm that he keeps secret from everyone else. the first in the group to find out about it is Gem

- Scar uses mobility aids of many varieties, but mostly uses a cane with robotic leg splints on missions

Anyways thats all for now, if you wanna see some more doodles and stuff you can look around my gigs in space tag!!

[fatherfigurefusion]

Danganronpa: Another Iteration (or a talent-shift AU for DRA)

Haruhiko Kobashikawa, Ultimate Surgeon

The protagonist, and 1/3 of the three "brain cells".

Comes from a family of field medics.

Ending up garnering lots of attention from the media for performing flawless surgeries at the age of five.

Would much draw attention away from the whole "medical prodigy" thing, but would lay down his life to save people (savior complex protag, my beloved).

Is a bit too into the anatomy parts of medical textbooks.

Mikako Kurokawa, Ultimate Pilot

Was groomed from a young age to be an unstoppable war machine.

Was told from a young age that "actions speak louder than words", resulting in her not talking much.

Doesn't really open up to anybody, not even her servant/adoptive brother.

People are often unnerved by the pale six-foot-one girl with noticeable muscles underneath her uniform, and rightfully so.

Yuki Maeda, Ultimate Exorcist

Has powers straight out of an isekai/shounen manga, and the underdog protagonist energy to match.

In spite of his title, Yuki actually specializes more in being a spiritual medium and summoning/communicating with the spirits themselves.

Is headmates with Utsuro, a far colder spirit in charge of the actual exorcisms, who finds just about any other activity "boring".

Has an awful and traumatic past that lead to both his attachment towards the dead and his alter.

Rei Mekaru, Ultimate Lucky Student

Primary trial saboteur.

Okay, I have two different prompts for a Lucky Student Rei.

First prompt, essentially Teruko Tawaki (right down to the backstory), but she doesn't need to get backstabbed for her to turn her back on others.

Second prompt: the Nagito-esque Rei I outlined here.

Either way, a total menace.

Teruya Otori, Ultimate Professor

One of Haruhiko's supports and 1/3 of the "brain cells".

Highly-intelligent and would drop tons of obscure trivia in a conversation, to the point that you would leave knowing a whole lot of stuff.

Father was the principal/dean of a K-12 school, and decided to hire his genius son to teach people.

He especially loves teaching grade-schoolers, but that kind of leaks into his interactions with his classmates (they all have at least one gold star/lollipop).

Akane Taira, Ultimate Merchant

Classic rags-to-riches backstory, with her going from a door-to-door saleswoman to a street vendor to the founder of a popular market chain.

Perfect customer service voice that she only ever lets go of when angry.

Seems docile and polite, but would punch a Karen.

Basically Akane, but even more girlboss.

Yamato Kisaragi, Ultimate Butler

Has a FuyuPeko-esque relationship with Mikako (minus the romance).

The Kisaragis have been working under the Kurokawas for generations to come.

Instead of Love Live! references, he makes Black Butler and Hayate the Combat Butler references in his dialogue.

Always seems to appear out of nowhere and know exactly what you want/need. Even Mikako is unnerved by this.

Kiyoka Maki, Ultimate Inventor

Specializes in creating weapons (primarily artillery).

Has the potential to make a nuclear bomb, but would rather spend all day doing typical teen girl stuff.

Greatly prefers fixing up old technology, rather than inventing new products.

Gets really dirty by the end of inventing stuff (blame her hyper-focus), and hates it.

Kinji Uehara, Ultimate Sniper

Was adopted by an Italian mercenary group, resulting in him becoming an assassin from a young age.

Is still highly-religious, believing that the lifestyle he has lived has condemned him to a life in hell.

Has a protective attitude towards children, has struck up a friendship with Teruya because of it.

Keeps a distance from the rest of his classmates, not wanting anyone to know the truth behind what he does.

Ayame Hatano, Ultimate Priestess

Can confidently lead sermons, but can barely handle herself in normal conversations.

Regularly goes on tangents regarding her religion, which can veer into some unnerving territory.

Is commonly seen as an upright maternal figure, which always throws people for a loop when they see how she really is.

Due to her talent, she is nowhere near the workaholic she is in canon, and she often encourages her classmates to take little breaks.

Tsurugi Kinjo, Ultimate Sprinter

Still has his strong sense of justice, but it isn't filtered through the black-and-white insanity of the police force. More like a shonen protagonist.

Would gladly sacrifice his life, if it means his peers would survive and/or be avenged. Who knows where that mentality would lead, when in a killing game?

Juu was a former Olympian, who Tsurugi looks up to and seeks to surpass.

Carries the burden of a promise made between him and his posthumous best friend.

Satsuki Iranami, Ultimate Police Officer

Haruhiko's other support, and 1/3 of the "brain cells".

Was born to a prestigious legal family, but was unable to live up to their standards, with Keisuke being the only one willing to give her a chance.

Is more of a Peralta-type cop, rather than a Santiago-type.

Probably owns a prop flag gun that says "GOTCHA!" or "BANG!".

Mitsuhiro "Mitchie" Higa, Ultimate Clown

Fandom's treatment of Mitch be like. /hj

Would have a more sanitized personality, for the sake of the kids.

Imagine Mitchie taking clowning as serious as canon!Mitch takes soccer.

Hates mimes and any other circus performances with a burning passion. Would start the clown uprising.

Kizuna Tomori, Ultimate Soccer Player

Would have a lot of issues with having a "gross" or "boyish" talent, thanks to Minako.

Would compensate for this with her hyper-girly personality.

Is highly competitive, and would do whatever it takes to win and get ahead in life.

Very Arei Nageishi-core.

Kakeru Yamaguchi, Ultimate Cheerleader

In contrast to the American-style cheerleader Kizuna is, Kakeru would be an oendan-leader.

Midori would be more athletic in this universe (although she still has her illness), and Kakeru cheers her at every event, like the good big brother that he is.

Big body = big lungs = loud shouts. Has a very hoarse and raspy voice outside of sporting events, because of it.

Is quiet to save up his voice for his cheers, and loves tea and cough drops.

Kanata Inori, Ultimate Lawyer

Her parents were murdered, when she was a baby, and she was taken in by the lawyer that prosecuted against and exposed the true murderer.

Her naturally polite and optimistic personality has made her the mascot of sorts for the Ando law firm.

Prime example of "A lawyer doesn't cry, until it's all over".

Could be considered an honorary member of the "brain cells", but she isn't a part of the polycule.

[spitfire-of-the-sea]

The Stowaway Series, Part 4: Karma

Guys. I know it's been *ages* but work is kicking my butt and taking away my will to write at the moment. (Thanks, science. No, it's great, please ruin all my hobbies for me).

Thanks for all of you who were waiting and encouraging me to continue. <3 The name for reader!Kitty is not yet fixed, if you have a preference, let me know in the comments!

And now, without further ado:

Find part 1, part 2 and part 3, if you want to read the beginning of this. =)

Word count: 3.4k Warnings: Still SFW. Just naked butts. Pretty safe, I think? Characters: Ace, Marco & Thatch… and cat!reader :D and Pops appearing, too!

The Stowaway Series, Part 4: Karma

You sat there, just watching them with zero thoughts in your brain for a couple of moments. Two grown pirates – one with a bounty of well over a billion, the other still with a respectable bounty of over half a billion – as they splashed each other with water and bubbles alike. Half-naked, of course, because none of them was wearing a shirt anymore.

What was this?! A Coca-Cola commercial?! What kind of freak pirate ship had you ended up on?!

You blinked slowly, your drenched fur slowly dripping water and making a puddle around you. A bubble slid down your nose and made you sneeze.

Or, perhaps, this was the male version of pillow fights…?

Somehow, right then a bucket smacked Ace right in the face and you thought that you probably preferred the more traditional pillow fights. Like, the ones that didn’t break your nose or anything. Not that Ace seemed to have any problem – if anything, it was the bucket that seemed rather worse for wear now. Slightly deformed, very much melting.

You instinctively ducked when a piece of soap came sailing towards your head and thanked your feline reflexes for saving you from looking like a Persian cat. You shuddered at the thought and slowly, one by one, your brain cells blinked back into existence. This brought with it the revelation that you were absolutely drenched and dripping wet, still bubbly, and very much in need of a proper rinse.

It did, however, also come with the realization that those two were currently pretty distracted and for the first time, you weren’t held by a half-naked man, surrounded by pirates, or incapacitated by water. This, you happily noted, was your chance to get out of here and find a place to hide away with your ninja-like skills. A place that was…-

“Did those two boneheads just abandon you like this, kitty?” the voice connected to the two hands that picked you up cooed at you.

Okay, so your perception wasn’t the greatest at the moment. So what?! You’d been through a lot, okay?!

With a deep, deep sigh, you just hung there in those hands that had closed around your ribcage, not even bothering to fight anymore. You were so done with this shit.

1/10 stars. Do not recommend. Service personnel is pretty hot but ultimately fails at its job.

“Shall we finish the job, hm? Maybe by the time we’re done, Marco will have scrubbed that feral little raccoon clean, too,” Thatch murmured and you were taken over to the shower he had just occupied.

And then… with a start… you remembered that he had been in exactly that shower like a moment ago and he’d been utterly naked. You also remembered that you had visually confirmed only minutes ago that he had a fine ass and the rest of his anatomy had also been pretty convincing.

On the one hand, for the sake of your modesty, you should be very concerned with the fact that he was probably still naked and you were about to enter a shower – also fully naked because you didn’t really count fur as clothes – with a man you had met less than an hour ago.

Had he saved your life? Yes.

But still. You were a good girl. (Or at least that’s what you usually told yourself. Most of the time.) You didn’t climb into showers for some naked and very splashy adventures until you were reasonably sure you’d actually end up having a good time.

On the other hand… you twisted in his arms and threw a curious glance down his front, your tail twitching in interest. If the rest of his body was any indication, he’d be…

Awwww. Covered with a towel.

“Miss Kitty, have a seat,” Thatch said and placed you on top of a little stool. You blinked up at him, not fully unsatisfied with the treatment. For one, he was being polite, and additionally, he had basically perched you on a little throne. Yes. Yes. This was acceptable.

Happy to hopefully get rid of the surplus bubbles you generously offered him a paw, somewhat ignoring the fact that you were supposed to be a simply stray cat, and he took it with a chuckle and started to rinse it clean.

“Or should I call you Lady, hm?” he asked and kneeled down next to you, very carefully washing all the remaining shampoo from your fur as you glanced down at him regally.

Admittedly, this didn’t feel too bad, you had your little perch, a pretty damn good-looking guy kneeling in front of you and basically giving you the finisher of a spa treatment…

Maybe you’d actually give them like… 5/10 stars after all.

Within a couple of minutes, you were actually pretty much clean and he turned off the water and stroked you with long, even movements to squeeze the water out of your fur. It felt quite heavenly, to be honest, and you might actually have started to purr a bit again…

Of course, you just couldn’t have nice things, could you?

Because this was when the door banged open – you were pretty sure some tiles cracked at the impact, and a freaking giant entered the room. And not to be dramatic… but he barely fit through that damn door and by your very modest estimate, it was probably four meters high. You started to look up along the legs. And looked up. And up. And.. still up.

When your gaze landed on a bare chest – what the fuck else, this ship apparently suffered from a severe cloth famine – you noticed enough scars to supply a full battalion of soldiers. And as it traveled even further up, you noticed a white captain’s coat slung over wide, wide shoulders. And as it finally reached a face, ducking in below the doorframe, you saw a white beard.

A.

White.

Beard.

You made a gurgling sound as all the air in your lungs suddenly rushed out of your body and you went first stiff, and then hot, and then felt the fur all along your body desperately trying to puff up against the forces of the remaining wetness in your fur.

Oh no. Oh no no no. This was Whitebeard. The legendary Whitebeard. The guy who’d fought the Pirate King and lived to tell the tale.

“I’m hungry,” he said by way of greeting, “and the boys told me to come here.”

The pressure in the room was almost overwhelming and your feral instincts kicked in before a single brain cell could so much as put a word in in favor of reason. He’d eat you. He’d fucking eat you. He was Edward Newgate, the famous Whitebeard. They’d cleaned you up to serve you to their bloodthirsty captain who ate babies and cute kittens for breakfast!

With a battle scream, you exploded out of Thatch’s hands onto the floor and barely managed to land on your feet in your blind panic. In a feat of pure elegance, you somehow tripped over your own tail only one step further, resulting in you face-planting on the floor for about 0.1 seconds, because that was all the time you allowed yourself to waste. Digging your claws into the tiles, you pushed off and actually propelled yourself onto the wall, just below knee height for the giant between you and survival. If you hadn’t been so busy not getting eaten, you’d have complimented your athleticism.

“What the…-,” Thatch managed to say by the time you took the second long leap towards the door.

You’d manage. You were swift. You were like the wind.

“Flight risk!” Ace screamed when you did your third leap and pushed himself off the floor to rush after you. Fate was in your favor. His foot landed on a bar of soap, his eyes widened comically, and his leg was pulled out from under him as he slipped. You’d have appreciated the beauty of it, probably, the arch his body described as his ass went up and his upper body went down and he landed – hard – on first his shoulders and then his head. You heard something crack and faintly hoped it wasn’t his head. It was pretty.

“Not so fast-yoi!” Marco chuckled as he plucked you out of the air in your fourth leap without breaking a sweat, wrapping a towel around you at the same moment. “And here I thought you were getting used to us.”

There was a select choice of words on the tip of your tongue. Among them were several that were connected to a certain part of his anatomy and the places he could shove it. You were not gonna be eaten! You’d scratch their eyes out! You’d carve your name into their faces! You’d fight until your last breath!

You had claws! You were a ferocious tiger, no matter how small! You had the devil’s power…! You… fucking… couldn’t get out of the towel!

“Now, what’s that?” Whitebeard asked, his tone rather surprised than particularly hungry.

“A cat,” Thatch answered helpfully and ambled closer, toweling his hair dry as he walked.

Maybe that was the problem. Maybe you should turn back into your human form to show them that you were not a cat and therefore, should not be eaten. Perhaps you should declare that you were not a virgin, either, just to be absolutely sure that they wouldn’t think you were useable for any sort of ritual or for feeding to the giant or…-

No. No. That was dragons. Dragons ate virgins.

What did giants eat?!

“I can see that,” Whitebeard answered, somewhat exasperated, and ducked lower to get a better look at you while you were fighting to get out of the towel. Your claws sliced through the cloth like a hot knife through butter and yet you just couldn’t get free. You shot a wild look at the giant captain.

You were no more than a snack for him. Surely, you weren’t even worth the effort!

But maybe it was no effort. He’d swallow you whole. Like that famous whale at the start of the Grand Line, that supposedly swallowed ships whole. You fought with renewed ferocity and Marco clicked his tongue at you, fighting to keep you under control.

Ace slowly tried to get up again, clutching his hands to the back of his head. “Ouch.”

He was still alive, then. Good. At least you thought it was good…? Perhaps…? At least you hadn’t gotten any cat-eating vibes from him.

The sounds of fabric ripping below your claws announced how close you were to freedom and Marco cursed under his breath, juggling you from one hand to the other to avoid giving you a chance to latch onto one of his fingers.

“Is anybody going to tell me why there’s a cat?” Whitebeard asked finally, his tone surprisingly even.

“It’s our new cat,” Ace said, rubbing at the back of his head. There were tears in his eyes as he tenderly felt around for the quickly forming bump.

“Our cat?” Whitebeard prompted, slowly sounding less patient.

“Yes,” Ace confirmed. “Spot.”

You sank your teeth into a piece of towel and ripped at it, glaring up at Marco, who reached for a second towel, frowning. “She doesn’t have a single spot-yoi.”

“I see lots of spots,” Ace muttered and blinked slowly. “I knew it all along. The soap almost killed me. Told you it causes more harm than good.”

“Your head is way too hard for that. You’re fine. Also, I think Whiskers is a far better name,” Thatch threw in.

Personally, you thought they were both pretty shit. With a low growl, you twisted in Marco’s hands, managed to graze his index finger with one fang, and then were rolled into a second layer of towel. You didn’t feel entirely unlike a burrito.

Heh. A Purrito.

You were hilarious, even when you were 5 seconds away from being eaten. But you were not about to give them any ideas.

“Would you stop that?” Marco asked you with a sigh. “It’s just Pops-yoi.”

“Fluffy?” Ace suggested and slowly came to his feet. Even upside down and pretty sure something horrible was about to happen you could appreciate that the drops of water glittering on his skin and slowly sliding down his very defined abs made him look fine as hell.

“Killer,” Marco threw in and you glowered, wiggling yourself forward and out of the towel wrapped around you millimeter by millimeter. You were still contemplating the idea of turning back into a human – both to be able to think straight again and to maybe tell them that you wouldn’t stand for such ridiculous names. Ah, and the detail to please not eat you or do something else horrible.

Thatch leaned forward and booped your nose. You snapped your jaws at him but he was too quick for you, you didn’t even manage to nick him. “Catness Everclean,” he happily suggested and you couldn’t help it, you rolled your eyes.

So he read those types of books, huh? Probably also read romance novels and smut. You scoffed.

“Boys…,” Whitebeard said with a tone that you knew pretty well from your father. It was the tone he used when he was down to his last nerves and he was between giving you up for adoption and accepting his hand in making you the person you were. Your ears twitched.

“Can we keep her?” Ace asked, slowly coming closer, one eye squeezed shut and with one hand still at the back of his head.

“I don’t think…-,” Whitebeard started.

“Look how cute she is!” Ace immediately continued and grabbed you out of Marco’s arms. Still covered in one layer of towels, plus a few stripes of the first one. You tried to twist but his grip didn’t give an inch.

His effort was admirable, really, but with only your face visible in the layers of towels, and your eyes almost popping out of your head from the effort of fighting for freedom, you probably looked more deranged than cute.

“We already have a dog,” Whitebeard answered slowly.

You hissed, sounding somewhat suffocated. Probably due to the lack of air in your lungs at this current moment.

“Somehow, she reminds me of Ace-yoi,” Marco muttered, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Is she trying to kill us? Sure. But in a slightly deranged and yet charming kinda way. You can’t really be mad at her. It’s cute, in a way.”

For that, he got another hiss. Sadly you couldn’t give him the middle finger right now. Which was probably good, you reminded yourself, he was an evil pirate, after all.

“Lady Floofiness,” Ace said as if he had heard nothing. When he tried to kick Marco who stood beside him, the older commander simply moved out of his way. “Once she’s dry, you can see for yourself. She’s really pretty and very, very gentle.”

Okay. You were pretty happy he hadn’t cracked his skull open. He was pretty cute. Plus, he probably wouldn’t let you get eaten. You hoped. At least he was your best shot in this room.

Marco snorted a laugh. “Gentle? She tried to amputate my finger. Again.”

“You held her wrong,” Ace hissed under his breath. “You need to support her…-“

“Butt. I know-yoi,” Marco answered with a shake of his head, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

What was this fascination with your butt?! You had a pretty great one, sure, but in your human form. That you were not about to show them. You had decided so. Perhaps your animal instincts had been a bit overwhelmed by the giant standing at the door, but you slowly lost the fear of somebody wanting to eat you.

Or perhaps you were just going numb. Whichever one.

You squinted up at Whitebeard, who was looking at you with a frown. His beard twitched as he regarded you and you quickly reversed direction and instead of trying to get out of the towel, you buried yourself deeper into it, away from his prying eyes.

“Stefan might not like it,” he finally said.

“He likes Kotatsu just fine,” Ace countered. “And she’s much smaller, won’t take up any space. She can sleep in my cabin.” He started to slowly unwrap you and you grabbed one corner of the towel and tried to hold onto it, suddenly not desiring freedom so much. Freedom meant having no barrier between you and those piercing eyes.

You were still holding onto the towel desperately when two giant fingers grabbed you by the scruff of your neck and picked you up. Gulping, you winced when your body went limb, suddenly unable to do anything but stare at the giant man who had picked you up. He held you in front of his face and you held your breath. This was it. This was the end.

He opened his mouth and you squeezed your eyes shut.

Goodbye, cruel world. I’m leaving you today.

“Stefanie,” he said then and you slowly opened one eye back up.

A brief moment of silence, then Thatch cleared his throat and Marco shuffled his feet, searching for words. Ace was less polite. “That’s a shit name, old man,” he blurted out.

“Fluffy isn’t much better,” Thatch murmured and Ace shot him a glare.

“Says the man who suggested Catness Everclean-yoi.” Marco crossed his arms in front of his chest and shook his head.

“Yeah, and Killer as a name for a teeny tiny fluffy cat clearly wins a prize for creativity,” Thatch shot back.

Marco shrugged. “We can also call her Calamity Jane, seeing as how she made Freckles almost crack his head open, made you bleed for the first time in, what, four years? And has actually managed to nick my skin here.” He lifted a finger with a frown and you could see a tiny drop of blood there for a moment before blue flames engulfed it and it was gone in the next moment.

Thatch, who saw the sparkle in Ace’s eyes, quickly shook his head even as he took a look at his forearms and registered with some surprise that you had indeed managed to scratch him. He dabbed at it with the end of his towel, still shaking his head. “Absolutely not.”

“I think it’s cool,” Ace weighed in and came to stand just below you, holding his arms out expectantly. You curled your tail around yourself and hoped that you’d indeed be handed over again. Ace was the one who held you in the most comfortable way – by far!

To be fair, perhaps you hadn’t given Marco much of a chance with your little panic attack.

But that was hardly your fault. You were in a room with Edward Fucking Newgate, also called Whitebeard. Also having the highest bounty in the whole of the fucking world. You were pretty sure a little panic was justified.

“You just like it because it fits into your little card naming scheme. Ace. Spade Pirates. Spadille. Calamity Jane,” Thatch accused him and when Marco raised an inquisitive eyebrow, he shrugged. “Queen of Spades? Calamity Jane?”

“Oh,” Marco made and rubbed at his chin. “Then no.”

“Hey!” Ace snapped and lifted himself on his tiptoes to reach for you.

You honestly shouldn’t feel so relieved at the guy heartily grabbing your butt, but at least Whitebeard let go of the scruff of your neck and you dropped into Ace’s outstretched hands. Gulping down a shiver – not quite successfully – you were happy when he brought you close to his chest again. Especially since he didn’t seem to mind that you were still wet.

“I haven’t said yes yet,” Whitebeard reminded them with a sigh. “At least I know now why they were all snickering like idiots when they sent me here.”

“You also haven’t said no yet,” Ace reminded him with a grin and started to stroke you with long, calming movements. Eyes unblinking and brain simply overloaded thanks to the last hour, you lay there against his chest and contemplated whether this was karma. Whether perhaps you had stolen one too many times from the rich and given to the poor. Mainly you, actually. But you were poor.

Ugh. You needed a cocktail with lots of rum and a cigarette.

And you didn’t even smoke.

[starfirewildheart]

Chapter 9

Scars and Souvenirs 

Summary: Sy and his lady both retire from the army but not before tragedy befalls Sy. He slowly tries to adjust to life again on their ranch.

Pairing: Sy / OFC

Word count: 1784

Rating: mentions of war; being a POW, death and animal abuse. Nothing graphic I promise but if the fic continues (if y'all like it) I'll add warnings for each chapter.

Sy walked over to where the kid was still giving the cop hell and struggling against Debbie's help. He forced the boy down in a chair then got in this face. He spoke in a calm but commanding tone. “Stop struggling before you hurt yourself worse than you already are.”

“You new here? This ain't over by a long shot,” he huffed but stopped his struggle.  

“I'm not a cop,” Sy explained.  “What's your name?”

“Screw you,” the kid snapped.

“Little prick never changes,” the officer rolled his eyes. When Sy cut him a menacing look he walked out of the squad room.

Deb opened the first aid kit and approached him again. “My name is Debbie and this is Sy. What's your name?”

“Screw you.” 

Sy popped the boy in the back of the head. “You will be respectful to her. You understand?” He growled. 

“Owe, yea ok,” he squirmed, wanting to rub the back of his head but unable to because of the cuffs.

“She asked you your name.”

“Mike, my name is Mike.”

“Well Mike, I'm going to clean you up a bit, alright?” Deb asked. 

“Whatever,” Mike huffed.

Debbie cleaned him up and put a bandage on the cut on his head before popping an instant ice pack and holding it to his eye.

Walt stomped back into the room still pissed off. “Are you ok Mike?” 

“Peachy,” he snarked. “Sweet cheeks here fixed me up. See?”

“Sweet cheeks?” Deb asked, arching her brow at him.

Walt sighed before taking Mike to a holding cell. “I don't get it kid. I gave you a chance last time and you're back here again for theft.”

“I just can't get enough of you, Marshall.” He pretended to swoon, falling back on the cot in his cell.

“Fuckin smartass,” Walt growled before leaving him to go back to the squad room.

“What's with the kid?” Sy asked Walt as he was walking them out of the station. 

“Petty theft, B & E, public intox, truancy, fighting, terroristic threatening, smart assed kid.” Walt explained.  “I've tried to give him a chance but he just keeps blowing it.”

“What about his parents?” Sy inquired.

“I've met his old man once. He's a piece of work for sure. Runs a pawn shop here in town when he's not passed out from drinkin.”

“What's going to happen to Mike now?” Deb asked.

“Normally I would say he'd go to juvi but after Gains roughed him up I don't know. He's still got charges against him for robbing Samuelson's Market a couple weeks ago,” Walt told her. 

Sy opened the truck door for her and shook his head. “I know that look. What are you thinkin darlin' ?”

“Maybe he needs some time working on a farm. Sort of like community service but with safety and food and a good role model,” She bit her lip. “Maybe he needs someone to care about him?”

“Or maybe he's just a little prick who's old man doesn't care enough to rein him in?” Walt crossed his arms over his chest. He'd lost faith in people years ago. The world was bad and so were most of its people.

Sy looked between the two of them. One’s face was hopeful, the other disbelieving and he was somewhere in the middle. He could understand Mike acting out with an alcoholic, possibly abusive father and no one to care for him. He looked at Deb. “So you think he's robbing places because he's hungry?”

“And needs things, yea,” She nodded.

Sy crossed his arms over his chest and sighed. Deb looked at both of the big, intimidating men standing side by side staring her down and started to fidget. She felt like a kid who was in trouble. When Sy reached out and took her hand she gasped. He would never hurt her, she knew that but the moment had been so intense it startled her. Neither man said anything as she was pulled along back into the station. “What are we doing “

“Rescuing a new colt for you to rehabilitate,” Sy smirked.

~~~~~~♡~~~~~~

Nearly three months had passed since they had convinced the chief to let them take on a work probation for Mike, then they had to go to court with him so the attorney could convince the judge it was a good idea. Once everyone was in agreement they had to get Mike's dad to agree.

Mitch Holmes, Mike's father, was a real piece of work. He didn't give a damn about his son but he would spend hours gushing about how they were distant relatives of ‘The’ Sherlock Holmes.  Walter went with a counselor to talk to him about Mike and he said the living conditions were horrible. Very little food in the house, roaches everywhere and there were bars on the windows to Mike's room and a lock on the outside of his door. 

Walt unleashed on the police that had been on Mike's case before he had gotten to town. Demanded to know why no one had investigated before now. No one ever even made an effort to check on the kid.

While all of that was going on Sy, Walter and Debbie had been setting up video surveillance and listening devices on the S17. Once they started getting data Deb spent a lot of time pouring over it for pertinent information then handing it over to Sy and Walter so they could track shipments and buyers.

Sy yawned and scrubbed his hands over his face. Between work, court and the ranch they were all exhausted. He stood up from his desk in the shared office the department had given them for the investigation and walked over behind Deb. She was sitting with one foot up in the chair and the other on the floor as she read over endless transcripts. He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “We need a break, sugar. Let's go get some food. I'm craving steak,” he rumbled against her neck. 

She reached up and lightly ran her nails over his head grinning when he almost  purred. “Steak sounds wonderful and French fries.”

He kissed her neck and rubbed his short, scruffy beard against her skin loving the way it made her squeak and squirm. “God I love you.”

Deb smiled as she stood up in front of him pressing her body against his. “Love you too baby. More than anything in this world.” Tilting her head up she pressed a kiss to his lips which he quickly deepened. His tounge sought entry into her mouth while his hands slid down her back to grip her ass and press her even tighter to him.

The office door opened and Walter walked in looking down at some papers in his hand. “talked to th…” he stopped when he saw them kissing and blushed. “Sorry I..” he started backing out the door. 

Sy smirked and Deb chuckled at him. He was a big, tough cop but so shy and reserved about a lot of things. He and Sy fell right back into that close brother relationship almost instantly. Walt had a shitty childhood and Sy did all he could back then to protect him. They had a bond closer than any blood family had ever been. They were battle buddies. Deb and Walt had gotten close as a result as well and the three of them spent a lot of time bonding too.

Deb gave Sy another soft kiss before pushing away from him and waking toward the door and Walter. “We're going to dinner.”

“Ok. I'll see you tomorrow ,” Walt nodded.

Deb stopped in front of him and shook her head. “Clock out detective grumpy.”

~~~~~~♡~~~~~~

Sy, Walt and Deb were all sitting at their table drinking a beer and waiting on their food at the local bar and grill when someone tripped into Debbie's chair causing her beer to slosh all over her. She jumped to her feet trying to brush it off as she eyed the blonde woman.

“Oh, I'm so sorry!” She gasped. 

Debbie looked at her but just forced a smile. “It's OK. It was an accident. No harm done.” She excused herself to go clean up.

“I'm sorry again,” the blonde smirked, winking conspitorily at a woman sitting at the bar before leaving.

When Deb came back from the restroom she saw a woman rubbing up against Sy. He was telling her to leave him alone and that he wasn't interested but she reached down and pawed at his cock grinding her hand against him almost painfully.  Deb snatched her by the hair pulling her away from Sy. “What the fuck do you think your doing? Lindi?” She growled. 

“Let me go you bitch!” She struggled in Debbie's tight grip. 

“He said no and you didn’t listen. Now you'll deal with me,” She growled as she dragged her outside to the parking lot.

“Oh fuck,” Sy and Walt said at the same time quickly following them. 

“You will keep your hands off what belongs to me,” Debbie warned her.

“He doesn't belong to you! He's not married to you,” Lindi sneered. “You've been together for five years and he's never committed. He's just fuckin you until he finds the woman he wants to spend the rest of his life with!”

The words stung more than she cared to admit and it pissed her off even more. “Maybe, but I know one thing for sure. It's not you!”

Lindi lashed out at Debbie which she quickly realized was a mistake. Deb tackled her to the ground and started wailing on her. Lindy was screaming and begging for her to stop, apologizing and swearing she'll never touch Sy again. Deb didn't slow down; she just kept swinging.

“Ok, enough,” Sy bent down and wrapped his arms around Debbie's waist and pulled her off of Lindi. “Alright sweetheart, enough,” he soothed.  She struggled against him and he wrapped her up tighter. “Enough,” he growled in her ear. She stilled for a moment before shoving away from him and trying to walk away. He pulled her back and pinned her against a nearby truck. “Calm down sugar,” he rumbled.

Walter knelt down and checked on Lindi. Her nose was busted, lip bleeding and her eye was already swelling. “You learn to keep your hands to yourself? “

“I want to press charges!” Lindi demanded. 

“You have that right but you started this and there are witnesses to this. So she will press charges as well and this will go to a judge. Are you sure that's what you want to do?”

She got to her feet and glared at Walter before storming off.

@shellyshellshell

@enchantedbytomandhenry

@mrsevans90

@summersong69

@mollymal

@warriormirkwood

@bloodyinspiredme

@kneelforloki

[itwasthereaminuteago]

|| Black eyed & Blue ||

Chapter 1 - Skull & Crossed Wires

Frank Castle x Female Reader/OC

Notes: I'm posting this first short chapter in my Frank Castle and female OC/reader mini series in the hope that it will spur me on to finish it! I have some other chapters written already just need to get them where I want them and write some more. 😊

Warnings: kidnapping, blood, biting, general vampire themes, fluff & smut, frank being protective, Matt makes an appearance.

Please comment and let me know what you enjoy or would like to see as the story develops and I'll see what I can do!

Frank managed to limp his van to the nearest garage before it crapped out entirely. He had cleared it out after his latest 'road trip' back at the safe house. It wouldn't do any good if the mechanics found any of his arsenal…

He left them with the keys and said he'd check back in a couple of days. Leaving a cell number was out of the question too, he still wasn't quite comfortable leaving much of a trace even if he was now 'Pete'.

He walked up to the shop office two days later, hopeful he could throw down a few hundred and get going. A fraught looking gangly guy was having an in-depth discussion on the phone as he entered. He passively waved Frank in the direction of the garage floor, pulling the phone away from his mouth and yelling towards the doorway.

"Blue! Customer!"

Frank gave him a semi-polite nod and headed through the side door where his van was jacked up, a pair of dark blue Converse sticking out from underneath.

"Uh, right. Guess it ain't ready yet." Frank ventured.

"No shit Sherlock." A voice came from below.

"Can see why you got Shaggy on the front desk there, customer service ain't your thing huh?"

The feet peddled their way out from under the van to reveal a woman with her hair tied up out of her face with a blue bandana. She had an oil-smudged face, and chipped sky blue nail polish on her fingers. Her mouth dropped open as she pushed herself up and took in the figure of Frank standing over her.

"Oh fuck- I mean, shit! Damn! Fuck!" She winced. "I'm really sorry mister… thought you were Ray winding me up again. Sorry, I'm trying not to cuss as much but, um…"

Frank couldn't help the sly smile from spreading across his lips.

"Think you're doin' well enough. Don't you worry about it. Maybe uh, you can gimme an idea when she'll be ready?"

She got to her feet, wiping her oily hands on her dirty coveralls, which were also blue.

"Well, that's the thing. I'm still waiting for a part to come. I woulda called you to let you know but, uh, you didn't leave a number so…

"Yeah, don't have a phone." He scratched at the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Kinda hate all that tech shit y'know."

"Wow. Well, okay old man, I'm not sure exactly when it'll arrive, our supplier is vague at the best of times, I really wanna find someone better but…"

Frank couldn't help grumbling a little. He was keen to get back on the road, after all, biker gang ass wasn't gonna kick itself. "Then I guess 'i'll just keep comin' back every day till she's ready."

Blue smiled politely. "Once it's here I'll get it fixed as fast as I can but if you refuse to have a phone like us regular people I guess that's just what you'll have to do. See you tomorrow then?"

Frank nodded. "Yeah. See ya tomorrow."

The next day Frank dropped by the garage late afternoon, he'd had a particularly rough night chasing down some dregs of the Dogs of War that refused to go down easily.

"Jeez, what the heck happened to you?" Blue asked, looking up and seeing the dark bruises around his eyes as she heard him come in. "I mean, if you don't mind me asking? Those are some shiners."

"Walked into the side of the door when I got up during the night to piss. Bein' how I'm an 'old man' an all," Frank deadpanned back.

"No shit. You gotta be more careful, looks a bit like someone belted you right in the kisser!"

Frank shrugs.

"To be honest I wouldn't be too surprised if they had. Don't take this the wrong way but you've kinda got one of those punchable looking faces, mister..?"

"It's uh, Pete." Frank replies with a slight chuckle, only slightly offended. "And is that so?"

She holds out her oily hand for him to shake. "Hi Mister Pete. They call me Blue. And yeah, I mean you're real good looking and all but-" she stopped as Frank shook his head and laughed.

"Jeez, I really gotta stop running my mouth around strangers! I am so sorry…"

Frank holds up both hands giving her a smile, it had been a while since he had laughed as much. "Hey, no worries. Punchable and good lookin'? I'll take it. So, Blue, huh? No need for me to ask why I guess. "

She returns the smile, scuffing the toe of her shoe into the ground shyly. "I just like the colour."

Frank clears his throat. "So uh, there any news on that part yet?"

"Oh! Yeah, um it might be tomorrow but…"

"Might not?" Frank finishes with a slightly tense shrug.

"Yeah, really sorry about this, Pete. I'd even go as far as to offer you a free coffee in apology but our machine's bust, and even if it was working it tastes crap anyway."

"Don't worry about it. Alright well, guess I'll seeya tomorrow again."

Blue gave him a little wave. "Yeah, seeya tomorrow Old Man, hope I've got some good news for you then."

Frank just shakes his head, smiling to himself as he leaves the garage and sets off back home.

The next day, when Frank turns up, Blue's face is bright with the biggest smile, and it only got brighter as she saw what 'Pete' had in his hands.

"Hey!" She greets him animatedly and it makes him feel a little warmer inside.

Frank nods then hands her one of the carryout cups of coffee he has. "Hey, didn't know how you take it but I got some sugar and milk here too if you want, seeing as your machine is broken an all."

Blue beams, her fingers brushing briefly over his as she accepts it. "Oh, thank you so much! And no, that's great, straight up is perfect, so kind of you, thanks Pete!"

Frank shrugs. "S'nothin'."

She takes a hearty sip and then remembers what she was about to say. "Good news by the way, the part arrived this morning! I'm about to get on it right now, shouldn't take too long if you don't mind waiting?"

Frank nods, finding a space to sit nearby. "Yeah, sure, if you don't mind me watching you work."

She disappears under the van. "Actually, gives me the chance to ask what the hell you've been putting this poor van through, you gotta take more care of her if you don't want to run her into the ground."

Frank huffed. "Yeah, just been real busy, y'know, and my work takes me all kinds of places, some uh, rough terrain."

"What kind of business are you in Pete?"

He scratches the stubble under his chin. "Uh, removals, pest control, odd jobs. That kinda stuff."

"A Pete of all trades?" Blue suggests, and Frank has to laugh.

"Yeah," again he feels the rare smile stretch his face as he strokes his stubbled jaw. "Somethin' like that."

It wasn't till later, when he was on the road again rummaging through the glovebox for the map when his hand landed on the tin of sweets. He took them out, curious seeing the note stuck to the lid.

'Something to sweeten you up, old man :)

-Blue'

He chuckles to himself as he opens the tin and takes a candy.

[aconflagrationofmyown]

Are any of Sarge and Elaine’s kids as beloved in the nation as Elvis was during his time? Do any of them particularly want to be in the spotlight, now we know Marie is a famous photographer and Daisy is an entertainer. I just think that the nationwide love Elvis brought out should be replicated in one (or more) of his kids because his impact is truly amazing.

2nd question, during the divorce Elaine gets pregnant? What’s the public backlash for that? Can’t even imagine them being kind to her.

Ooooh, how fun is this ask?! 😍Especially as the answer is two in one, just like the question. First off, meet Mr. Danny Presley:

Yes, yes I went and made it a little odd yet sweet by using darling John John Kennedy’s face, BUT HEAR ME OUT

1. I adore that man and he needs a fix it fic himself and in this universe we can start from scratch a bit, 2. I just always envisioned their last son being a distinguished darling of the nation in a political capacity, 3. he’s just terribly handsome and well…distinguished, I’ll use that again and has the down to earth goodness along with the charismatic gravitas that suits my vision for Danny.

Which leads us to those questions.

Oh the backlash is nasty. It’s awful as expected but for the first time in her life, Elaine Presley, though divorced and perhaps unforgivable for it by her husband, actually has Elvis’ full support under the media glare. This is thanks, in part, to Colonel Parker and his damned tabloid machine -which was always her nemesis and the bane of her dignity- being out of service due to the Colonel himself being neck deep in an immigration lawsuit. He can’t quite issue spoon fed statements about his investment’s behavior from a holding cell, not when the investment himself is rethinking his place as the head of his family while curled up in his ex-wife’s hospital bed talking to her barely protruding belly.

And Danny, oh sweet, their lovely Danny Boy. Made in the middle of such tragedy, you’d never know it from his easy presence and boyish charm, the way from the minute he can interact during Elvis’ later international tours he treats his Daddy’s fans like his own. He’s the one in the late 80’s and 90’s still passing out smooches to admirers, young and old, who still flock around the gate. He’s the one who gets invested in Memphian politics and continuing on what America got robbed of somewhere along the way. He marries Shiloh’s best friend Bee and he wins the senatorship, he’s straight and honest as they come… unless you wanna press an inquiry about some of those badges he gets his daddy. But no harm in those.

He coulda been known as the kid made when the two crazy Presley’s couldn’t stop hate-fucking. Instead he’s a recalled as a unifying legacy to everyone who ever dreamed about love enduring and good people making efforts to live for something bigger than themselves.

If it’s true you attract the love you give, then Danny’s his daddy’s replica to a T, and maybe it helps that they share a birthday. 😉

…the whole saga of him being made and the divorce and the reasoning and the reconciliation will be coming soon, I swear

As for the others, you have Daisy who is a significant performer in her own right and certainly a bit of a fame enjoyer, there’s Jesse who is similarly acclaimed but not as lead, and you’ve got Marie who as a photographer and filmmaker might be more of a artsy success but as far and household name and universal admiration and fondness as was felt for Elvis -I see that being Danny. Your Grandpa and your lil sister both think he’s pretty fly.

[hillbillyoracle]

What To Do In Tornados

I’ve lived in tornado country pretty much my whole life and to be honest they still freak me out. I also remember how anxiety inducing it was when I first moved out and had to deal with them on my own. So like a message in a bottle to my former self, I wanted to compile what I’ve learned over the years in a skimmable format in case there’s anyone else out there today who could use it. 

Difference between a watch and a warning?

Tornado watch means you have time; think of a wrist watch. Tornado warning means one is incoming, no more time. This is the one I use to remember it.

Or if you prefer the Weather Channels very memeable explanation - tornado watch means you have taco (tornado) ingredients - picture a taco bar. Tornado warning means you have a fully assembled taco (tornado). This is what my partner uses. 

So there are possible tornados in the forecast: 

Make a plan about where you’ll go if you get a warning. It should be the most interior room in your house, well away from any windows. Here we have a walkout basement and I go to the most interior part of it. When I was in an apartment, the most interior room happened to be my bathroom and hallway. If you live in a dorm or other communal setting, they should have a plan in place so make sure to find out what it is.

Take pictures of your rooms and car in the event you need to file an insurance claim. Having pictures of what you own, it’s condition is helpful for filing insurance claims if you need to. Especially if you’re a renter. This is easiest to do when there’s no storms in your area so you aren’t nervous or pressed for time.

Make a power outage plan. A lot of the threat that comes with tornados is not from the tornados themselves but the damaging straight line winds around the tornado. Whenever there’s high winds, there’s a chance to lose power. Consider how you’d eat, drink, go to the bathroom, and stay warm in the event of a power outage. Less necessary but still helpful - consider how you’ll entertain yourself, especially if cell towers go down or you need to conserve your phone battery. Consider what chores - like laundry or dishes - would be good to have out of the way before hand. 

Grab snacks and food that doesn’t need refrigeration. If you’re able to make a grocery store run, grab some food you can eat that is shelf stable and doesn’t require cooking. A good rule of thumb in my experience is three days worth. Most power outages I’ve been through have been fixed in that time and you can more safely evacuate then if you need to go somewhere with power. If you’re like me and have a lot of food allergies (gluten, dairy, soy) - consider baking items ahead of time that can keep well at room temperature like cookies, scones, and breads. 

So you’ve been issued a Tornado Watch:

Check the forecast; you might have lots of time before the storms will be in your area or you might have very little.

Make a plan if you haven’t already. Or check your building’s plan if you live in a dorm or communal setting. 

Make sure everyone involved knows the plan. Don’t assume people you’re with know. I have made that mistake before. 

Charge your phone and electronics. If you don’t currently have a thunderstorm in your area, go ahead and charge your phone, power bank, flashlights, and anything else you’ll want to take with you your safe spot.

Gather supplies to take with you to your safe spot

Minimum: 

Shoes

Phone

Form of ID*

Leash/Harness/Cage for pets 

Explanation of minimum: 

Shoes are important because if you need to evacuate, there’s likely broken glass and other things on the floor that can injure you. If you can’t safely move through it, then people will have to come escort you out which means waiting longer + more risk. 

Phone is important for calling for help and receiving alerts. Also many can double as a flashlight in a pinch.

*ID is helpful accessing emergency housing and medical services if you have to leave your home. If your ID doesn’t list your residence or you don’t have/want to have ID documents on you for safety reasons, consider grabbing a copy of your lease or some mail addressed to you there. You can still access services without this, it just helps speed stuff up. 

Keeping pets on a leash or cage helps keep them safe in the event you need to evacuate with them. 

If you can:

Tote bag

Helmet

Flashlight

Power bank + cord

Weather radio

Water bottles

Some pet food + bowl

Snacks

I put all my supplies in a little tote bag. It’s my storm tote (conference bag I’m never gonna use for anything else).

Helmet is pretty self explanatory. One more way to keep your head safe in case anything falls on you. 

Flashlights help you move around your house if it’s safe to stay in if the power goes out. In the event your house is unsafe, it helps you safely evacuate. If you’re trapped, it helps you signal for help. 

Power bank + cord helps you recharge your phone if the power goes out. When you’re checking alerts and watching streams, the battery can deplete quickly. 

Weather radios of any kind is helpful. Cell service often goes out so the way you’ll get your information then will be primarily through radio. If you’re reading this not in a watch and want to get one, look for ones that will wake you up if there’s a warning in your area. Midland has several. I have a small Sony radio I take with me to my safe spot. 

Water bottles are helpful because they’re highly portable and in the unlikely event you get trapped in your house, you’ll have water to keep you hydrated while help gets to you. 

Pet food is so you can feed your animal without leaving your safe spot since warnings can last a long time. I’ve seen some areas be warned for 1-2 hours before if a storm is slow moving enough. But it’s also so you’ll have some food for them in the event you need to evacuate. 

Snacks are similar to pet food. It’s you food. Just helps you shelter in place. 

So you’ve been issued a Tornado Warning:

Put on your shoes

Put pets on harnesses and a leash or in a cage 

Go to your safe spot and don’t come out until the warning has expired

Especially if the warning is PDS or has some other enhanced tag, try to bring something to cover your head and body with - like a mattress. A thick blanket is better than nothing in a pinch.  

[ralfmaximus]

I've got one coworker who calls me occasionally without any warning whatsoever. Everyone else hits me up in work chat first: hey are you busy? got a sec? can I call?

But not this guy. Also, he uses his personal cell phone, and due to whatever wacky VOIP cellular service he uses, it's never the same number twice, and his caller ID is literally "wireless caller".

This guy is THE ONLY REASON I ever answer my phone, even if the caller ID screams spam. Because if I don't talk to him, something at work that's on fire will get worse, making everyone else's life a little worse.

So I answer his calls, and he never introduces himself or gives context for the call. He's already six words into his stream of consciousness explanation of what the problem is and what I need to do to help him fix it. It's always very arcane, very technical.

"Screen SA-011 is throwing a validation error, and it has something to do with the foobar field. I think the combo box on that screen has lost its list of validations, so if you could--"

It's like being thrown into an ice cold river. I forget to breathe, listening to him monologue endlessly, trying to simultaneously parse what he's saying while also rewinding the conversation in my memory back to the beginning so I can maybe figure out the context for the call. I sometimes jot key phrases on a scrap of paper while he talks.

Eventually he stops. Now it's my turn. I get to reply, to tell him what he needs to know to fix his problem, and (weirdly) nine times out of ten I can. There's a part of me that wakes up and knows, even if my conscious brain has no fucking clue. Often it's a memory from eight years ago when we first wrote that module, and it's just enough to trigger an additional cascade of important memories on his side.

"Yeah," I hear myself reply, "that's the UD1015 table, and you'll need to reload that from backup. There are too many values in there to enter manually."

He thanks me and hangs up. The whole interaction lasted less than four minutes and I won't hear from him again this year.

Now what the fuck was I doing?

[m1ckeyb3rry]

Pomegranate Ink: XVIII

Series Synopsis: Unable to heal but willing to fight, with a fiancé in Kyoto and a last name that looms over everything you do, you accept an offer to study at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech. What you did not know was that your salvation and your ruination alike would soon join you at the school, neatly wrapped in the form of a boy followed by death.

Chapter Synopsis: Your visit to Africa is cut short when you get a strange phone call.

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Yuta Okkotsu × Female Reader

Chapter Word Count: 5.1k

Content Warnings: angst, misogyny, naoya zenin, forbidden relationships, canon-typical violence, character death, original characters included

A/N: i hope these final yuta crumbs are enough for us all to survive the long harsh winter (all of season one and most of shibuya being without him)

“What?” you hissed into your phone. Gojo raised his eyebrows at you, his glasses low on the bridge of his nose. You paid him no mind, nor did you look at Yuta’s concerned frown. Your attention was solely on the boy speaking in a cold, clinical voice, as detached as you had ever heard it.

“You have to come back. Immediately,” Megumi said again. “Or as soon as possible, anyways.”

“We just got here,” you said. “It’s barely been a couple of days. What’s going on? Do you really need us that badly? You know that you can ask Principal Yaga or Kusakabe for help, if it’s so urgent.”

“They’re busy, and it’s not like they could help even if they tried. The higher ups have taken advantage of you and Gojo being gone,” he said. “So only you and Gojo returning can fix this.”

“Of course,” you said, grinding your teeth at the fact that even an entire continent away, the higher ups were messing with your relationships and personal life. “What are they doing now?”

“They’ve sent the three of us first years on a mission. It’s supposed to be a routine exorcism, but…I don’t know. I’m not sure that I like it,” he said.

“Hm? That’s just what being a sorcerer’s like, though, Megumi. You’ll have to go on missions,” you said. At the mention of Megumi’s name, Gojo’s face cleared into a beaming grin, though Yuta cocked his head. You continued to ignore both of them.

“I understand that! It’s not the fact that we have to go on a mission. It’s just that I’m getting a bad feeling about —” Abruptly, his voice cut off.

“Hello?” you said. It was futile, though; there was a loud beeping sound as your phone declared that the call had failed, although Megumi had given no indication that he had been somewhere with bad service. “Great, just my luck.”

“What’s the matter?” Yuta said, wrinkling his nose at the phone you held in your hand. You shook your head, pocketing the phone and massaging your temples.

“The higher ups sent the first years on a mission, and Megumi seems to think something’s up. I tried saying that that’s just how missions feel, but he didn’t believe me. Anyways, he’s experienced in tasks like that, so I’m actually somewhat inclined to believe him when he says that not everything is as it seems. His cell service cut off before he could explain further, though,” you said. Gojo furrowed his brow.

“That doesn’t bode well. For Megumi to be calling for help means it’s more serious than we realize; he’s not the kind of person that likes asking for just about anything,” he said.

“From you, maybe,” you said. “I can hardly blame him for that.”

“Pack up your things, Y/N,” Gojo said, and the fact that he ignored your jab meant that things were actually serious. You nodded firmly. “I’ll see when the next available flight is.”

“Right,” you said. Yuta followed you as you ran to his room, where you had been staying for the past few nights — Miguel only had one spare room, and all of you agreed that it’d be for the better if Gojo got to sleep alone. You had this suspicion that he snored, although there was no evidence to back it up. Still, you weren’t about to be the one to test out your theory, and Yuta rarely got enough sleep as it was, so it ended up that Miguel rolled out a blanket for Yuta so that he could sleep on the floor while you took the bed.

“Don’t forget these,” Yuta said, folding clothes alongside you, tucking them into your bag at twice the pace. In his hands were the souvenirs you had bought for Maki and Tullia. You smiled and zipped them away in the bag’s front pocket.

“I’m sorry for having to leave so soon. Ever since we saved that boy, Gojo and I have been under some serious heat from the higher ups,” you said. “We have to take care of things before they get worse.”

“I can understand why they’re mad at Gojo, but why you?” he said. You huffed.

“Well, because that idiot apparently decided to mention in his defense of Itadori that I agreed with him! Naturally that strengthened his testimony, as he had the proof of support from a Grade 1 sorcerer, but he’s a special grade, so he didn’t really need that support or strength in the first place!” you said.

“He always does this to you,” Yuta said, shaking his head. “Putting you in tough situations, figuring out if you can handle them. I’m sorry. I’d take all that pain for you if I could.”

“It’s not your fault. At least I have Tullia to share it with now,” you said.

“I’m sorry for that, too,” he said, and he stopped you in the middle of rolling up a pair of socks, taking your hand — the left one, the one which bore his ring alongside Noritoshi’s — and pressing it to his lips. “It should be me. I’m the special grade amongst us, so I should be the one taking on everyone’s burdens.”

You took a deep breath, allowing yourself to put thoughts of whatever was happening in Japan out of your mind, existing only in that moment with Yuta. It was peculiar and still, the sun streaming through the window, illuminating the dust motes swirling in the air. His lips lingered against your palm, and though neither of you spoke, it was as if he was whispering secrets to your skin, like he was trying to impress upon you every single declaration of love he could never make.

“It’s a nice day today,” you said. “I wonder if it’s raining back home.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he said, allowing your hand to drop by your side and continuing to pack your bag as you stood and stared out of the window wistfully. “Here, it’s not.”

You glanced at him. He smiled, a gentle expression, soft, delicate. He didn’t look like a kicked dog anymore. He was definitely the kind of person that could be considered a special grade sorcerer now, the kind of person you might run from if you saw him on the street. He looked like that until he looked at you, you specifically, and then he transformed into something different. Something nobler — not a beaten hound nor a vicious one, but the loyal sort.

“That’s right,” you said. “Here, it’s beautiful.”

The plane Gojo managed to find bobbed and weaved through the storm clouds gathered over Japan, the pilot saying something over the intercom that you could not pay attention to for fear of throwing up. Your hand was clamped over Gojo’s tightly, your only reassurance in the sickening turbulence. If Gojo was there, then things would be alright. Even if the plane crashed, he’d do something or another to save everyone. And if he could not save everyone, then he would at least save you.

“Do you need one of those disposable bags or something?” he whispered. “I’ll be kind of mad if you throw up on my shirt. It was expensive. And it’s white, so who knows if the stain will come out?”

“Gojo,” you snapped. “Shut the hell up, and feel free to send the bill to my father if such a thing happens.”

“Okay,” he said. “Does he have Venmo?”

“I said shut up!” you said, digging your fingernails into his wrist. He yelped, giving you an overly dramatic pout but mercifully keeping his lips sealed and his mouth shut.

The plane barely managed to land, and you hoped that the pilot would get a healthy bonus for navigating the terrible conditions. No sooner had the wheels hit the runway and the taxiing had slowed to a somewhat reasonably slow speed than was Gojo standing and reaching into the overhead compartment, grabbing your bags and handing yours to you.

You staggered to your feet, waiting for the world to stop spinning as the plane rolled to a stop. Everyone else started to get up, but Gojo was faster; grabbing you by the sleeve, he took off at a sprint through the narrow aisleways, shoving the other passengers out of the way as he did so. You shouted repeated apologies over your shoulder, helpless in the face of the whirlwind that was your teacher in his frenzied state of concern for the first year students.

He had done an admirable job of hiding it until this point, but as he argued his way through customs, you knew that he was reaching his breaking point. He had paid for in-flight wifi for the both of you, and you had spent the entire time trying to contact people at the school, but it came to nothing. Your fellow second years had their phones silenced, which meant they were probably on a mission as well, and it was a rare occasion for Principal Yaga to have an actually charged phone, so getting ahold of him was an impossibility as per usual. Kusakabe’s phone went straight to voicemail, and so did Ijichi’s, which was more cause for worry than anything.

You did briefly get a hold of two of your classmates, but they were the least useful ones possible. They picked up on the last ring, sounding incredibly drunk, the older boy’s words slurred as he spoke.

“Y/N?” he mumbled. “Hey…pretty. How are you doing, pretty? No, no, Kirara, it’s okay, it’s just pretty Y/N. That second year who’s a Grade 1, don’t you remember her? She’s not like her family — stop it! Don’t take the phone from you, I want to talk to her —”

“Why are you calling Kin?” a different, lighter voice said. “Hey, you better have an explanation!”

“Kirara,” you said. “I hope you and Hakari have been well since getting suspended.”

“Oh, I remember you now,” they said disdainfully. “We’re fine. What do you want?”

“Well, I was just wondering if you two knew what the situation is like with the first years, though to be honest, I wasn’t really expecting Hakari to pick up,” you said.

“We’re not affiliated with the school anymore, so why would we know anything about what’s going on there? It shouldn’t be a surprise that we don’t have the faintest clue,” Kirara said.

“I mean, I figured you wouldn’t, but I thought it was worth a shot,” you said. “Though on second thoughts, maybe not…”

“Of course I answered your call,” Hakari said. He must’ve wrestled the phone back from his classmate. You rolled your eyes; even at his best, Hakari was strong but self-absorbed and mostly good-for-nothing. You had to acknowledge his strength, but his attitude definitely left a lot to be desired. “Y/N, I’ll always answer your calls. Don’t think I wouldn’t!”

“How much have you had to drink?” you said. “And would you still say the same thing with significantly less alcohol in your bloodstream?”

“Yes!” he cheered, noticeably not answering your first question. “You’re my favorite underclassman. That’s not saying much, though.”

“Uh-huh,” you said.

“That one boy is so insidious. You know the one? The creepy guy. He’s so creepy. What’s his name?” he said.

“Yuta,” you supplied.

“Yeah, him. He freaks me out, man! And the other one doesn’t even talk to me. There’s no fever to be found anywhere in his body, which is so disappointing and boring,” he said, already off on one of his tangents. You exhaled heavily.

“He actually can’t talk, so you shouldn’t blame him for it,” you said. “Which you know already, by the way.”

“Then there’s the blonde one. The American girl! She’s so depressing. You know, I tried to gauge what her passion was, and guess what I discovered? She has none! She does everything for the sake of others!” he said with a groan.

“Good for her,” you said. “You could learn a lot from that example.”

“So that leaves you, by process of elimination,” he declared proudly.

“You forgot two of — actually, this entire conversation is a waste of time,” you said. “Go throw up in a toilet somewhere and sober up. Don’t cause too much trouble for poor Kirara.”

“I can do that if you promise to call me again! You’re the only one I still haven’t tested. Grade 1 sorcerer as you are, you must have some kind of fever, and I want to see it unleashed! Okay? Do you promise on your honor as an underclassman to show me what makes you burn?” he said.

“What do you think Todo would do if he heard you saying such things about his rival?” you said instead. That was enough to cause Hakari to hang up; Todo’s overwhelming passion and intensity made him one of the few people that Hakari could actually stand, as he was apparently ‘the ideal archetype of a fevered fighter’ or something else like that.

You didn’t really understand Hakari. He often said such strange things, as if he were perpetually under the influence of something or another; it was only because of the way his tone had sounded that you had been able to pinpoint his drunkenness at all. According to Noritoshi, who was in his year alongside Todo, he was a lackadaisical man who cared only about himself, and even Todo had begrudgingly admitted to you once that Hakari wasn’t exactly what he’d consider a respectable person, despite having a power and presence that normally, Todo would admire.

After Hakari had hung up, you had considered calling Noritoshi, but just in case, you decided not to. Though you knew he wasn’t in league with the higher ups to an excessive extent, it was true that he was generally obedient to them, and he might mention to them that you had called. That would only make them hasten with their plans, whatever those plans might be, which would be counterproductive.

That was the cause of Gojo’s stress. You two had no idea what was going on, and anyone who might be able to clue you in was as unreachable as the ones who might be in trouble. For someone like your former teacher, who was used to being in control of every situation, this was the worst kind of outcome.

He held onto the back of your shirt as he tried to call Ijichi one last time. You did not complain; you knew he wasn’t holding onto you because he didn’t trust you. His mind was always racing, burning through energy so fast that he rarely had a moment of rest. Sometimes, so that he could avoid being swept away by it all, he needed someone there who was just still, and at present you were that person, even though you were no less worried than he was.

In the meantime, you texted Yuta, updating him about your landing, the current situation, and the storm. In response, he sent a picture of the sky through his window, still as clear as it had been earlier. You almost turned your phone off, thinking it was meant to be a petty text, but you softened when you saw the message that accompanied it.

‘Wish you were here :(’

You wished you were there, too, but recently, you had realized was that there was always someone or something meddling about in your life, the lives of all high-ranked sorcerers. You were at the mercy of the higher ups, and just a second of relaxation was too much to ask for in such a world. Even your outing for desserts with Gojo had been interrupted because of your responsibilities, so why had you been expecting your visit to Africa to have a different outcome?

“Oh, no,” Gojo said. You cocked your head, peering over his arm at his phone and the text he had just received from Ijichi. For a second, you did not quite comprehend the message, but horror began to dawn on as slowly but surely you began to understand.

Gasping, you turned to look at Gojo. “This can’t mean —”

“It does,” he said. “Come on, let’s go. Shoko’s holding off on the dissection until we can get there, at least.”

This time, when he held onto you, it was with purpose. You felt your body twist uncomfortably as Gojo teleported you out of the airport, leaving nothing behind to signify that you had once been there but a faint breeze and an empty space — which was soon filled, meaning there was no trace of you at all.

When you manifested again, it was in the infirmary of the high school. Ijichi and Ieri were already there, Ijichi sitting with clenched fists and a bowed head, Ieri busily disrobing Itadori’s body and setting it up on the dissection table. When Gojo saw it, he clicked his tongue. Sitting in the chair, he pressed his head into his hands.

“Damn it,” he spat as you changed into your own lab coat, readying yourself to aid Ieri without a word. “I can’t believe them.”

“They’ve always been like this,” Ieri said. You took the moment to examine the body as she spoke. “Ever since we were younger, huh?”

There was a gaping, endless hole where Itadori’s heart should’ve been. According to Megumi’s report, Sukuna had taken over and ripped it out, as a way to keep Itadori hostage and stop him from switching back. Such a brave person he was, that he had done it anyways, that he had not let Sukuna continue in the way he had been.

Placing your hand over the hole to cover it, you frowned. You thought that maybe, if he had been someone different, or if you had gotten to him a little sooner, you might’ve been able to do it. You might’ve been able to regrow that heart for him. With the full power of Composition, you would’ve been able to save Itadori.

“It’s pointless,” Ieri said to you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “He’s definitely gone. Even you can’t change that.”

“Couldn’t I try?” you said, though you had naturally come to the same conclusion already.

“You’re that attached to him?” she said. You shook your head.

“Not more or less than I am to any other person. My junior wanted him to live, though. I stuck my neck out — well, more like Gojo stuck it out for me — to ensure that he was saved. It feels like such a waste for him to be dead so soon,” you said. Ieri sighed.

“It’s like that. There’s no meaning to any of it; people just die. It’s always a waste in this business,” she said.

“I suppose that’s true. But still, I don’t understand the situation as a whole. The first years never should’ve been sent on that mission; it was something that a Grade 1 sorcerer should’ve been dispatched to take care of in Gojo and Yuta’s absence. Why wasn’t one called? I know at least Todo wasn’t busy; I have his location on my phone, and he’s been in his dorm all day,” you said.

“It’s because, like Megumi said, you and I were gone,” Gojo said. “We’re the ones who stood up for him, so the higher ups took advantage of our absence to get rid of him while we couldn’t intervene. The vessel of Sukuna…we were foolish to think they’d ever really accept him.”

You brushed your hand over Itadori’s forehead. It was hard to remember that he was Sukuna’s vessel when he was so pale and lifeless on the table, the blood drained from his wound so thoroughly that your hand came back dry after touching it.

“What are you going to do now, Gojo?” Ijichi said.

“Don’t go all crazy on us,” Ieri said halfheartedly. She must’ve been referencing some private joke between her and Gojo, but evidently, Gojo did not find it very funny, as he only groaned.

“I wish I could, but it wouldn’t change anything, would it? The best I can do is surround myself with the talent of the next generation and shape them into the kind of people I’d want the world to be full of. All of my precious students…they’re so talented, especially Yuta, Y/N, and Hakari,” Gojo said. You were startled to be included in the same sentence as Yuta and Hakari, but then you remembered that fighting was not exactly your claim to fame: you were the girl who brought someone back from the dead, and that was a feat worthy of comparison to those two. “Yuji would’ve stood beside them eventually, but now the chance has been taken from him.”

“It’s definitely a shame,” Ieri said before shifting to you and nodding. “Y/N, you can start.”

“You think I can do it myself?” you said, eyes widening at the responsibility. She handed you a scalpel and a pair of rubber gloves. “He’s such a priceless specimen, though. A boy so perfectly suited to being Sukuna’s vessel. What if I mess it up?”

“Your technique is called Dissection, isn’t it? You can’t really mess it up,” she said.

“Um, it is, but that doesn’t mean —”

“I know. I wasn’t being serious,” she assured you, cutting you off. “Look, I know what you can do. I’ve seen it before. You have a talent for this kind of thing, and anyways I’m not letting you do the entire thing by yourself. Just get us started.”

“Alright. Then I’ll do that!” you said, spinning on your heel and snapping your gloves on, approaching the body with confidence. “Sorry, Itadori. I’ll try to be as careful as possible.”

“Huh? Careful about what? Oh, hey again, Y/N! You’re my upperclassman now, right? Should I refer to you with a title?” Itadori said.

“No, Y/N is fine — wait, what?” you said, jaw dropping and scalpel clattering to the floor as you realized Itadori had sat up and was peering at you curiously. The hole in his chest had mysteriously vanished, the skin knitted over as if there had never been a wound in the first place.

“Gojo!” Ijichi shrieked. “Gojo, Gojo, he’s back!”

Gojo chuckled as you stooped over, pressing your ear to Itadori’s chest, listening for the tell-tale thumping of his heartbeat. It took a second, but then there it was, a steady beat like a drum, proud and happy, like it had never stopped at all.

“It’s beating,” you reported. “His heart is intact and seems to be in perfect condition.”

“Welcome back, Yuji,” Gojo said, shaking his head in amazement.

“Thanks! Wait, woah, why am I naked?” Itadori said. You yelped as you became aware of that particular fact. It hadn’t mattered when he had just been a cadaver on a table, a subject of scientific curiosity, but now that he was once again a living and breathing person, you found that being faced with his bare body and uncrossed legs was entirely shameful. Leaping back, you covered your eyes.

“We were about to dissect you,” you said, your fingers firmly over your eyes. “Is he good now?”

“No —”

“Yep!” Gojo said, cutting whatever Itadori had been about to say off. “You’re free to open your eyes now, Y/N.”

You did so hesitantly, finding him slapping his palm against Itadori’s in a gesture of welcome and congratulations. This was all well and good, but it wasn’t what made you scowl at him, taking off your gloves and throwing them at his face before screwing your eyes shut once again.

“You asshole!” you said. Itadori was still as naked as he had been earlier, and Gojo was cackling at the fact that he had once again succeeded in making you uncomfortable. “You’re the worst, you know that? And by the way, you could throw me a bone and turn off your Infinity every now and then! It’s so frustrating to throw things at you and not even have them make contact.”

“That would rather defeat the purpose of the technique,” Gojo said.

“I’m fine now, Y/N, so you can look if you want,” Itadori added. Deciding he was probably more trustworthy than Gojo, you peeked one eye open and sighed in relief when you saw that he had thrown on a hospital gown. Ieri gave you a thumbs up, which meant she had probably been the one to toss it at him in the first place. You returned her gesture gratefully, sticking your tongue out at Gojo, who scoffed.

“What are we going to do now?” you said, still avoiding eye contact with Itadori, feeling entirely awkward about the whole situation.

“What do you mean?” Ijichi said. You pursed your lips.

“If Gojo’s right and the higher ups have it out for him, then we can’t let him return to society like this. They’ll just double down their efforts now that they know he’s harder to kill than they anticipated,” you said.

“She’s right. Nobody but those of us in this room can know Yuji’s still alive,” Gojo said.

“Not even Fushiguro and Kugisaki?” Itadori said.

“That would put them in danger, too,” you said. “You don’t want that, do you?”

“Aren’t you guys in danger, then?” Itadori said. You exchanged looks with Ieri, who muffled a laugh that likely had no small amount of bitterness behind it.

“Yeah, but the higher ups won’t really mess with us. We’re mostly too valuable to be bothered and too strong to be pushed around,” you said. “The same can’t be said for the rest. Anyways, the more people that know, the more likely it is that someone will let something slip. There’s nothing to be done about us four knowing, but we have to ensure that no one else finds out.”

“Exactly correct!” Gojo said, his mood much improved in the wake of Itadori’s miraculous revival. “You really are my student, Y/N, aren’t you?”

“I quite literally am,” you said. “Or at least I used to be. I don’t know how you’d classify it now.”

Gojo shrugged. “Dunno. It’s unimportant, but like I said, you’re completely correct. No one else can realize Yuji is actually alive.”

“So I have to live the rest of my life in some basement somewhere?” Itadori said in horror. Gojo patted him on the shoulder.

“No, of course not. It’s a temporary arrangement. In the meantime, I’ll train you until you get stronger, and once your power is sufficient enough to be able to deal with whatever the higher ups throw at you, you can get back to your life as usual,” Gojo said.

“That sounds so lonely,” Itadori said, frowning. “But I guess it’s fine! I’ll do whatever you think is best.”

“I’m sure Y/N will come visit you, too,” Gojo said.

“Are you, now?” you said, arching an eyebrow at him. “I’m sick of you putting words in my mouth! Maybe I wouldn’t have stood up for him, and maybe I won’t visit him!”

“But you did stand up for him, back when Megumi first spoke up, so how was that putting words in your mouth when all I did was quote you directly?” Gojo said. “And you have a history of being welcoming to problem students, so do you mean to say you’d leave him to rot alone in a basement with only me as company?”

Itadori looked at you with sparkly, pleading eyes. You did your best to not look at them, partially because they made you feel immensely guilty and partially because they made you feel immensely uncomfortable. You could not stare at the ceiling forever, though, and eventually you groaned.

“Well, of course I stood up for him! And I’d have visited him even if you didn’t say anything. I’m just saying that you keep making things up about me without even checking first,” you said.

“Maybe it just means I know you that well,” Gojo said.

“Or maybe it means you’re presumptuous and annoying,” you said. Ieri snorted.

“That’s not incorrect,” she said.

“Don’t gang up on me!” Gojo said.

“Gojo’s a cool guy,” Itadori defended.

“Do you want me to visit you or not?” you said, arms folded over your chest. His spine straightened, and he saluted at you.

“Yes, I would! Gojo is presumptuous and annoying!” he barked out like an army private.

“Blackmail is not cool,” Gojo muttered.

“I’m glad we have a plan, though. I was beginning to worry that this entire situation was getting entirely out of control and you had no idea how to rein it in,” you said, directing your statement to Gojo.

“Things fell into place in a good way,” Gojo said. “Now we just have to take advantage of the cards we’ve been dealt and see what we can make of them.”

Later, as you and Gojo walked out of the infirmary to pretend like you had just arrived back on campus from the airport, you allowed your hopeful smile to drop into a frown.

“Do you think he can do it?” you said. “Stand beside Yuta and Hakari and I, or whatever it was that you said earlier? Were you just saying that because you were upset he had died, or were you serious?”

“He has the potential. I don’t know if he’ll be able to tap into it, but he seems like the type of person to give something his all once he’s serious about it,” he said.

“I agree,” you said. “He’s really dedicated, I think. At any rate, Megumi saw something in him, so he must be more special than he seems at first glance.”

“It’s a good thing he was able to come back,” Gojo said. You nodded

“It was definitely fortunate. I’m glad it happened like that,” you said.

“You know, this reminds me of another situation,” he said, elbowing you in the side. You gave him a dull look.

“What other situation?” you said.

“When you brought Yuta back to life! Another sorcerer resurrected at the hands of Y/N L/N. You’re on a streak!” he said.

“I didn’t do anything to Itadori,” you said. “Since one wasn’t me, I wouldn’t necessarily call it a streak.”

“You were in the room, so it’s close enough,” Gojo said, waving you off. “If I ever die, remind me to do it near you. You have this odd habit of not letting people around you stay dead.”

You bit your lip. “How about you don’t die at all?”

“Ah, that’s the plan. Don’t worry, I’m the strongest. I was only joking around with you,” he said, ruffling your hair. You closed your eyes, relaxing into the affection of the gesture.

“Don’t joke like that,” you said. “Okay? I don’t want to think about that kind of thing. Especially not with that image of Itadori’s body still so fresh in my mind.”

You didn’t open your eyes, so you couldn’t see what expression he wore at that moment, but you could picture the most likely chance. The corners of his lips curved downwards. His shoulders slumped more than usual. His chin tucked with chagrin. Even though his eyes were perpetually hidden, he had always been such an open person that it was impossible to not know what he was thinking.

“Alright, Y/N,” he said. “I’m sorry. I won’t.”

For some reason, you did not believe him.

[makethatelevenrings]

Sam Wilson with the first prompt on the bingo "Let me fix this"

I look at this man and I just want to [loud thud, dolphin sound, cymbals crashing, car tires screeching] there are minors present sorry

Honestly, how hard was it to change a tire?

Rain poured down onto you as you stood on the side of the road and stared at the desiccated rubber of your tire that met its untimely end thanks to a pothole. You had tugged the donut and kit out of the trunk, but now you were just staring helplessly at the busted tire. Sure, you knew how to change a tire in theory, but it was a lot more difficult to actually figure out what goes where and what to do first.

As you studied the jack in your hand, headlights started towards you from down the road. Three cars had already driven by so you figured that this person would also show you the overflowing kindness of Southern hospitality.

Just when you thought the car would accelerate and pass you, it slowed down and parked a few feet behind you. A man, tall and muscled and armed with a pretty smile, jogged towards you.

“Tire blew?” he called over the rain.

“Yeah. The potholes around here are killer,” you replied. He moved to stand next to you and examined your tire. Instead of grimacing and telling you , the man just shrugged and held his hand out towards the jack.

“Let me fix this for you,” he said.

Listen. Being stranded on the side of the road with cell service that came and went was scary enough, but the presence of a large man should also add to your nerves. But there was something about that easy-going smile of his that had you handing over the jack and offering him a tentative smile of your own.

“I’m Sam. Sam Wilson. I haven’t seen you around town,” he stated as he crouched down and began fitting the jack under the frame of your car. By town, he meant Delacroix, Louisiana. You were just passing through on your way to New Orleans. A friend had told you that Sweet Mama D’s pecan pie was the best fucking pie in the world and you, a sucker for any kind of sweet treat, figured you could extend your trip for some pie.

“Just a tourist,” you explained after you gave him your own name. “Are you from here?”

“Born in Harlem but raised here.” His muscles flexed under the sopping fabric of his t-shirt that now clung to his body. You tried to refrain ogling him because, honestly, he was being a gentleman and the least you could do was extend that same courtesy to him. “What brings you to Delacroix?”

“Pecan pie,” you answered with a grin and he grunted in approval, both in regards to the pie and also to the fact that he finally loosened the last bolt and could slip the tire off so he could start putting the donut on.

“Best damn pie of your life, right?”

“Sure was. I might have two stowed in my car right now.” There he goes again with that brilliant smile. Your skin prickled with a rush of exhilaration at his warm brown eyes and you had to stop yourself from complimenting his broad shoulders.

Sam fixed the donut on and then stood to examine his work. “Alright, that’ll last your a bit but you shouldn’t make any long drives until you can get a new tire. It’s seven so most shops are going to be closed, unfortunately.”

“Oh, it’s fine. I can find a hotel.”

He shook his head. “If you’re comfortable with it, my sister lives just a mile down the road. She’s got an extra room.”

“Oh, I couldn’t impose,” you protested. You had no apprehensions around him even though every horror movie would tell you not to trust the extremely nice man who you just met. Sam Wilson was different.

“No imposition at all. In fact, Sarah would chew me out if I left you stranded to find a hotel. I have it on good authority that she’s making chili for dinner and you definitely need something to warm you up.”

A shy smile flitted across your lips and you shrugged. “Alright, Sam Wilson, if you say so.”

He held out his hand and you grasped it in a quick shake. Sam gestured back towards his truck. “I’ll drive and you can just follow me..” He hefted up the shell of the thing formerly known as your tire and carried it as though it weighed nothing back to his truck.

Maybe this was stupid. Maybe you were going to end up murdered thanks to your trusting nature and this man’s charming smile.

Or maybe you would spend the first of many nights wrapped in the Wilson’s warmth, pinned under the gentle but smoldering gaze of Samuel Thomas Wilson as you wore some of Sarah's sweats and one of his old college shirts. Maybe your road trip would extend a few more days. Maybe it would find you sitting next to him in your car, windows down and Nina Simone playing on the radio, as he drove towards whatever future the two of you would embark on.

[meretrifles]

Public Library of Ruina - Yesod

I still dither a little about Yesod. He's either Information Technology, Information Services, or both. Both feels a little self-indulgent, but it's kind of what I want.

Information Technology is basically regular IT-- have you tried turning it off and back on again. The library doesn't add a huge amount to that-- more databases, a website, shitty civic budget, unpredictable public users. You're gonna replace a lot of keyboards. (You should probably take the ones where people rearranged the keys into swear words out of service. Or at least fix them first.)

Information Services is, at this point, extroverted IT. Back in the day, this was the department that specialized in "reference" questions-- the weird stuff. People would ask librarians for all sorts of weird facts in the pre-google days. It does still happen, but less and less every year as search engines become ubiquitous and the people who remember that was a thing slowly die off. Still, reference will never completely die. People are always going to come to libraries with weird questions; that's kind of the point.

So why am I calling it extroverted IT? Because that's the primary function. There's the fairly obvious part-- people sometimes need help searching the catalogue or reading e-books. But here's the less obvious part. Myrtle has a new laptop, but she's not sure how to do anything with it and her kids all live hours away. Who's she going to call? Who can help people learn how to use technology? Without many other options, the answer frequently is-- the library.

Think everyone has a cell phone? Ask a public librarian. We know there are still plenty of people without a phone or with a secondhand POS with no sim card. Curious what happens if someone can't remember their gmail password? If you're prepared to deal with a post-traumatic response, ask a public librarian. Have you ever tried to help someone with no available cell phone recover their google account? It would probably save a lot of time if we could just tell them at the start they're SOL. But maybe they can remember the password, and technically there's a reset function that might work in a few days if you're approved.... Fun times when you're dealing with an upset person who can barely type on a good day and has just lost a ton of personally valuable and literally valuable information, probably forever. Think 2-factor authentication is great? It sure is, if you have a second factor. We have a list of free email sites that don't require you to already have an email address or a cell phone. It's hella short. And we took one off cause it was too Russian. Protonmail is a good bet if you can remember passwords. Which is a significant if. Some people just can't. Which is OK if you can save them on your computer. Oh, you don't have one and you have to use public devices all the time? Well, write it down and hope it doesn't get stolen and that you can remember which one is which. (Have you already guessed that sometimes people ask librarians to remember their passwords for them?)

In short, the library also serves as a public IT department, for services and devices it has zero control over.

Whether he's internal or public IT support, Yesod is also going to snap. Though, he will also have access to an abnormality that can affect people outside the library, which is a nontrivial perk. He will use it exclusively on vendors. I am hoping some of his bullets bend space and time to successfully hit whatever asshats decided it was OK to build the entire backbone of library ebook lending on Adobe Fucking Digital Editions, an old ass program with literally zero support. It would seem impossible for them to still be shackled to it in the City, but it also seems impossible that we're still shackled to it now, so I'm pretty sure the ultimate capitalist dystopia couldn't let it die.

Hmm? My specialty? I'm a reference librarian. Why do you ask?

[nusaibaaaa]

acts of service.

how do you explain to people that for some, carrying out acts of service isn’t always out of something as simple as virtue but dehumanization of yourself?

it is likely that you have been viewed and used as a tool most of your life, and now, you have trouble maintaining a self-image without keeping up with that perception of yourself.

you have been used as a workbench rather than a centerpiece, a wrench rather than the piece of furniture, a sculpting knife rather than the sculpture. and so, you begin viewing yourself as just that— a technician, a shadow figure that doesn’t do well in the sunlight (Murakami’s line). but it just so happens that you were told your sunlight was too overwhelming. you were too bright, almost blinding. and so, you believe your role is strictly limited to helping others’ rays of light shine rather than… letting yours be helped to shine and rekindle with the same, if not more intense brightness.

you get offered help, and your first instinct is to refuse it. “me? needing help? don’t be ridiculous!” you think to yourself. it may just be that it’s not restricted to a matter of pride for independence that’s compromised when accepting help from others, but to fearing that if others take on your element, your perpetual role, you lose your identity to someone else.

but then you think— don’t acts of service naturally come to everyone, more or less? there is a spectrum. and yours being on the higher end doesn’t suddenly negate others landing on the spectrum at all, let alone scoring close to yours. and when you do accept help, you feel, what? this inexplicable, unnavigable feeling of disgust festering somewhere inside of you. you don’t know where, you just know it is. and you can’t pinpoint it. it’s like being stuck in a cell getting filled with poisonous gas, but you don’t know from where. was it the ceiling? the floor? yourself?

they thank you for helping them. they smile at you earnestly which seems to be stuck with you for days. but how do you tell them you did it, not solely out of virtue, but because you view it as your only purpose? to be a tool and not the final piece, a means and not the end.

but everyone is an end. the oil paint coating my fingertips and smearing my nails only shows i am the means and the end. the painting at the end is part of me. i made it. i gave it life. my skin being soiled with its colors, the skin beneath my fingernails being irritated with it doesn’t categorize me as a mere tool. it makes me a creator. the graphite encroaching my index and middle fingertips and greying my fingerprints doesn’t make me the pencil itself. it makes me its wielder.

i need to stop believing i am just a means when i am both the means and the end. you need to stop believing it too. who am i even talking to, referring to “you” throughout this spiel? me. you who relate. all of you that now carry a piece of me once you read it and find yourself in it.

if anything, acts of service make us human. using them as an avenue to see ourselves as a very skilled tool or effective means is just laughable! is it humane when someone feeds a starving cat or is it efficient? are there any harsh, mechanical workings to this or is it simply being humane and kind that you write off as “dehumanization” of yourself to view yourself insistently as a tool because, throughout your life you’ve been conditioned to think that’s all you are?

maybe having this self-image inundated into your brain where you’re only the tool, the catalyst, is a way to feel productive and therefore worth any value. society has made it so, where productivity is attached to our self-worth, and this belief is so deeply ingrained into us that our own self-perception becomes entangled with its messy roots. you need to break free. i need to break free. and if breaking means the opposite of fixing— what you usually do and base your identity around— then screw it. deviate! i’m talking to you! i’m talking to me!

[lee-banks]

Hello people of tumblr! So, my and my mother's cell plan via TMobile was canceled due to non repayment and our past due fees in December of last year when my mom lost her job. My father refuses to pay it and help us get the phones back on. Our spectrum internet has also been dwindling since then as well which is the only thing we have to rely on at this point. I could get a tech put here to see what's happening and how to fix it, but spectrum techs in my area are highly unreliable and on top of that getting replacement equipment isn't a gaurentee as it's a first come first serve type of situation. Even if we did get the new router and modem, they need to be activated via their app which obviously relying only on internet and having no cell service, it'll be difficult to do that. I looked into maybe getting government phones for the two of us as we'reset to get medicaid cards in the mail and coversge to start Sept 1st. However each company I looked into allows only one phone per household. Now, I'm not comfortable sharing a phone with my mother for numerous reasons including she's always been pretty abusive mentally/emotionally to me and she constantly cheats on my father with random men. Is there anyway we could get more than one phone from a lifeline or any related program? Are there any programs who help pay off debt/past due fees? Alternatively, I do have chime ($Lee4421) if you can donate to help get the phones back on. My mother also has cashapp if you'd maybe like to donate to her instead. Her cashapp will be shown in a screenshot. Last time she checked in May, the total past due was $304.32 but it could have easily gone up to around $642.32 since our bill usually happened on the 5th of each month and they add to it each month it's unpaid. On top of all that, there is an $80 reactivation fee plus unknown taxes. If you can give me any advice, tips on how to navigate this, donations, or even boost this I would GREATLY appreciate it. This is URGENT. Thank you all.

[caffeinated-chaos-bean]

Idk whether to laugh or cry lmao

Well guys --

I've been in town for 9hrs today. :'D

So my mom and I left the house around 10am so we could go pay the car insurance bill and such before my 1:30pm physical therapy appointment but apparently there is a curse going around because just like Shanna (and I now find out, Kaz as well today) WE GOT A FLAT FUCKING TIIIIIIRRRRREEEE. To make it even better, for whatever reason, both ATT and Verizon cell service was out completely and was even impacting people being able to call 911. Landlines in some places weren't even working. So we had to drive out car with its flat tire to the parking lot of my work and use their phone in order to call AAA to get a tow. Thankfully they found the spare tire we weren't sure we even had and put that on for us, so we got to immediately go and get the tire fixed. The culprit? A NAIL.

That got over at 12:45pm and then we went to the bank and pulled $100 so we could pay the car insurance (it was $83, the rest went to mom's ciggs). Then we forgot we needed gas and had to run and quicky get gas before running to the other end of town to make it to my physical therapy appointment. The appointment went well, aside from half the already scheduled future appointments WERE ON DAYS I WORK AND I CANT DO THEM. So only 2 of the 10+ days they pre-scheduled actually work (9/5 and 9/13) and the rest have to be re-worked. >n<

THEN we went to get groceries and coffee, hoping to relax for at least another hour back home before my 4pm appointment with my new primary care doctor. By the time we get halfway home? NOPE NO TIME TO RELAX FOR US. We barely had time to get what refrigerated groceries we had put away (dry goods left in the bags on the table) before we had to hop back in the car and make it to my primary care appointment on time. On the way there, mind you, we got tailgated halfway there and when my mom and I both flipped the dude off (and I even turned around in the passenger seat to glare at them) he decided to tailgate FURTHER and actually FOLLOW US the rest of the way there before turning off when he saw we were turning into the doctor's office. I'm not joking when I say that I had the spare car key clutched between my fingers in case I needed to stab someone in the neck in self defense. @n@

This appointment went well and lasted almost an hour and a half, and thankfully this new doctor seems to actually DISCUSS what my health currently looks like opposed to my old doctor??? This brings me to where I'm at in not knowing whether to laugh or cry because its just the icing on the top of the cake.

We went over my previous blood tests that I had done back in June. Aside from having read over those horrible results, the doctor said she could tell just from looking at the orange-ish tint of my nails that I was showing signs of being highly anemic. I also had my bloodwork explained to me for the first time in forever and it made sense and honestly doesn't sound good. Essentially, my red blood cells are too small and too tight to properly do their job and circulate oxygen in my body and carbon dioxide out of my body, and so alongside that, my platelets are working 10x as hard as they need to (ie. swelling) in order to cover for the red blood cells being so small and to ensure that if I ever needed a major surgery or got a major injury that I don't bleed out from it. Along with that, the triple-digit heart rate spikes I've been having?? Yeah not normal either.

What I'm looking at in the future from all of this??

I need to get an EKG and a 2-View Chest X-Ray. I got a Vitamin B12 injection today and will be getting one each month for the next 6 months. I also have to wait for a call from Hematology/Oncology because my red blood cells are so fucked up that I have to have a BLOOD INFUSION!!!

Below, this image perfectly describes my brain after all of this:

[themculibrary]

Touch Starved Masterlist 2

Links Last Checked: April 16th, 2024

part one

A Mask of My Disguise (ao3) - amidtheflowers bucky/darcy E, 86k

Summary: He didn't think much of her at first. She drank bubble tea every day for Christ's sake. But he won't make that mistake again--not when her taser stares down his nose.

"I really hope you didn't think I couldn't handle myself."

Deception, Fear and Redemption (ao3) - Anchanee pepper/tony, loki/tony, clint/natasha, loki/pepper/tony E, 121k

Summary: "My brother claims, that you Man of Iron, forced yourself on him during your time alone in these rooms and that you sired his offspring."

"What?"

Held (ao3) - romanoff steve/tony M, 6k

Summary: It's not the most embarrassing thing that's ever happened to Tony, but it's up there.

Lonely Boy/Safe and Sound (ao3) - mtothedestiel steve/sam E, 3k

Summary: Steve is seeing someone for the first time in seventy years. Sam Wilson might just be the man to bring him back to the land of the living.

No touch can do half as much (ao3) - iwillnotbecaged steve/sam E, 8k

Summary: The first time Sam clasped Steve’s shoulder, behind him at the kitchen table while they planned how to get Sam’s wings, Steve flinched.

Sam was careful after that — there were a million possible reasons for a reaction like that, and he really wasn’t sure he wanted to know which one was true. So he kept his hands to himself, even though it felt strange.

One Caress (ao3) - fuck_me_barnes steve/bucky E, 26k

Summary: Steve's rarely been touched in a way that didn't equate to some kind of hurt. The cold metal of a stethoscope against his frail chest or the sting of a needle drawing yet another blood sample, when he was a sickly child. The bone-shattering punches thrown by the neighborhood bullies on the playground, or by his own father at home, drunk and wild. His mother, weak and clutching at him as she grew more incoherent with the drugs as the cancer ate away at her insides. Touch was something he shied away from, something he told himself he just didn't want.

Except...he did. He just didn't know how.

Until he finds a flyer for a local "affection and intimacy services" program.

In which Steve learns how to become comfortable with touch, and there is one very good dog, and a slow-burn romance.

Quarantriad (ao3) - Lies_Unfurl bucky/steve/sam E, 18k

Summary: (Steve, Bucky, and their perfect immune systems are going out every day to help fight a pandemic. Sam and his ordinary white blood cells are forced to stay home. They cope. Mostly.)

Tactile (ao3) - Anonymous steve/sam E, 8k

Summary: Five times Sam touched Steve and one time Steve returned the favor.

Tethered (ao3) - thefilthiestpiglet steve/sam N/R, 4k

Summary: At some point Bucky just got used to living with his mind always slightly out of sync with his body, that feeling of ants crawling under his skin.

And then he tries to fix it.

The Forsaken Soldier (ao3) - Nerd_writer bucky/tony/thor/t’challa, steve/sam, clint/natasha/kate, wanda/vision N/R, 57k

Summary: Bucky thinks its time to reach out for help after two years alone. He's brought to the tower and ends up with more than he bargained for when Thor asks to court him. As he's balancing courting and recovering, he falls a little harder for Tony and T'Challa as well. Then he discovers it's okay to have all three and his life gets turned upside down.

These Scars Haunt Me (ao3) - awesome_goddess_of_mischief tony/t’challa M, 11k

Summary: When Wakanda entered the world, new soulmate bonds were discovered. One of which between their king and an American omega. It isn't until the omega arrives that they realise how badly he has been treated...

"All T'challa knew, was that if his omega had been happy and healthy there wouldn't be a need for apologies."

The Sound of Your Voice (ao3) - avintagekiss24 steve/bucky, steve/sam E, 18k

Summary: The memory starts to fade away as the fog in Bucky’s brain starts to dissipate. He grunts softly as his body pains start to break through his subconscious. He rolls his head slowly as he swallows, more pain ripping through him at the feeling of his dry, scratchy throat. He tries to open his eyes, but the blinding light from above makes him slam them shut again. He goes to sit up, but his body gives up, not finding the strength.

War, Children (ao3) - Nonymos steve/bucky E, 106k

Summary: After Bucky was released from the hospital, it only took him a couple of weeks to give up on himself. Difficult to believe in any kind of future when the simple act of staying alive was almost too big an effort.

Out the frosted window, across the street, there was a tiny homeless guy burrowing under an awning.

Warm Like Coney Island (ao3) - Anonymous steve/sam G, 2k

Summary: Quick little fic about Steve feeling alone after the events of CA:TWS and wanting comfort from his friends but never being sure how to get it.

weary to the bone (ao3) - wilsonsnest

Summary: Sam went an hour out of his way to get a refund for a joke gift. He regretted the day he ever became friends with Riley.

or; a soft a/b/o tantric sex therapy au