#getting the urge to check out my be save file again

[sainthermelin]

you know the house is good when unlocking a new support convo makes you audibly groan

[if-mirrormine]

i'll always save you

summary: grayson is called out on a case involving the mc.

pairing: grayson x mc

word count: 8029

based on the request: i was wondering what would happen if grayson got a call while on duty that mc crashed into a river somehow, and when they get there, mcs body isn't in the car, but there's evidence their body was there, like blood or broken glass, but mc happened to get out of the car and swam to the bank/shore of the river? like mcs just laying on the shore, soaked, out of breath, and kinda injured👀

**unedited//me? writing a drabble at 1 a.m.? it's more likely than you think.**

request a drabble here!

grayson sits idly at his desk, his leg bouncing up and down as he flicks in his pen between his index and middle fingers. he's bored. it's a slow night, which he should be grateful for, but the lack of crime means only one thing: paperwork. mountains of it. taking up the entirety of his desk and blocking his view of the other half of the precinct. perhaps if he didn't put off the task until last minute he wouldn't be here now but even with nothing else to, he can't bring himself to do it.

he's just about to convince himself to get to work when kelsey comes into view. he didn't even hear her get up from her desk across from his and walk over. but now that she's in front of him, he's happy to have something else to do.

"i'd ask how its going over here but given that you've been staring into space for the last half hour, i'd say that answers my question." she sits on the edge of his desk, her arms crossed over her chest as she glances down at the files behind her.

"can you blame me?" he sighs before tossing his pen on the desk, leaning back on his chair as he drags his hands through his hair. "i'm this close to blowing my brains out."

quirking up an eyebrow at him, she smiles. "do i need to take your gun and put it on a high shelf somewhere?"

he grins. "aren't i taller than you?"

"semantics," she says, waving him off. "you want something to do?"

resisting the urge to bolt out of his chair and out the precinct, he sits up straighter, entirely more alert at the prospect of getting to put off doing paperwork slightly longer. "why didn't you lead with that?" he questions and she rolls her eyes playfully. "what is it?"

"got a call while you were daydreaming," she says. "some idiot drove their car off a bridge. my money's on drunk driver."

at that, he stands up, whipping his jacket off the back of his chair and pulling it on. "it usually is." looking at his partner, he gestures to the exit. "what are we waiting for? let's go."

sliding off the desk, she rolls her eyes again and follows him out.

the bridge has been cordoned off, the night illuminated by red and blue flashing lights. there's an officer waiting for them when they arrive, explaining what happened without so much as a hello. there had indeed been a drunk driving, swerving in and out of lanes before throwing themselves out of their vehicle and into traffic. they currently sit in the back of an ambulance, mostly unharmed, and their car still sitting on the bridge.

"i though the call was about someone driving off the bridge," kelsey says, confusion twisting her features.

"someone did drive off the bridge, ma'am," the officer says and she narrows her eyes at him. "probably to avoid killing the guy. though they're probably worse off now than if they had run him over."

"probably?" grayson questions. "you mean no ones gone down to check?"

the officer pales slightly, shrinking back into himself as he avoids looking at him in the eye. "n-no, sir. it's really difficult to get down there, we were waiting for more experienced personnel."

"unbelievable." taking a deep breath, grayson fixes the officer with a look that would be sure to kill. "we'll go check. make yourself useful and get the witness statements."

"yes, sir!" the officer runs off quickly, nearly tripping over his feet in an attempt to get away from them.

"do i really look like ma'am?" kelsey asks as they begin walking over.

"what would you have preferred he called you?"

"oh, i don't know... detective montgomery maybe?"

"he probably doesn't know any better," grayson grumbles. "he barely looks old enough to be a highschool student, let alone fresh out of the academy." kelsey snorts as they come to a stop at the side of the bridge. the ravine falls off into darkness at a near ninety degree angle and when he shines his flashlight down, rocks and mud pave the way down to the water. looking at kelsey, he finds she's already looking at him.

straightening her back, she salutes him. "godspeed, soldier."

he sighs at the thought of having to go down there by himself but he doesn't argue the matter. "at least there are paramedics on standby," he says. "i imagine i'll be needing one by the time i get to the bottom."

kelsey grins at him. "on the bright side, you won't have to do any more paperwork."

"because i'll be dead? yeah, i'd sure hope so."

"i'll tell your mother you loved her."

he rolls his eyes in amusement as he begins his descent. his shoes slide slightly in the mud and he has to slow his pace to not fall but after what feels like forever, he makes it to the bottom. the river is oddly calm, the waves lapping softly at his feet and he shines his flashlight over the water in search of the car. in the middle of the river, somewhat under the bridge, black metal sparkles under the light. the tail end of the car stick out of water, the window of the backseat just barely visible and he swings the beam of flashlight around to look for the licence plate.

"how's it looking, gray?" kelsey calls down to him and he glances up at her briefly to see her standing with her own flashlight.

"well it's not great," he calls back. "im looking for the plates."

as soon as the words leave his mouth, his eyes latch onto the sequence of numbers and letters and he quickly realises its one that he's got memorised. his blood runs cold, his heart damn near stops beating and he's filled with all the same dread and panic he felt ten years ago.

mc. it always come back to the mc.

he's in the water before he even knows it. kelsey is calling him again, demanding to know what the hell he's doing and why but he can't think of anything else but his best friend. he has to get to them, he has to save them. nothing else matters.

his own name is the last thing he hears as he dives below the surface, the ice cold water shocking his system that he almost exhales all his oxygen. weighed down by his clothes, he forces his limbs to work even harder and before long, he sees the vague outline of the car in the murky water.

confusion takes over when he presses his face to the passenger side window and sees that the car is empty, the drivers door hanging open. empty. they mustve been able to escape before the car went under. relief begins to take over as he swims to the surface. oh, his brilliant mc.

gasping for the breath when he breaks the surface, he thrashes around, attempting to search for them in the darkness. he dropped his flashlight somewhere between seeing the licence plate and diving in the water, and he regrets not holding onto it a little tighter. he screams their name, hoping with everything fibre of his being that they're nearby and can hear him.

"grayson!" kelsey calls to him and he looks back to see her standing where he did just moments before, having made her way down the ravine when he dived in.

"it's mc!" he calls back. "they made it out; look for them along the shoreline!"

he doesn't wait for her response, instead swimming as fast as he can to the other side of the river. pulling himself out and wiping the water from his eyes, he takes off running again. his panic comes flooding back in full force, the relief he felt dwindling fast the further he goes. he screams their name, over and over again, only to be met by silence each time. not again, he thinks. please not again.

he skids to a stop when he sees a body lying on the shore and he stops breathing for a moment before he's moving again. dropping to his knees beside them, the pale light of the moon illuminating their face and he cries in relief upon seeing its mc. they're bruised and cut up, blood drying on their face but their chest rises and falls ever so slightly and that's enough for him.

"i'm here, mc," he says, pulling them into his arms and eliciting a groan from them. "you're okay." he rises to his feet, holding them close to his chest as he makes his way back to the bridge. he hates the thought of almost losing them a second time but he tries to focus on the positive, of them alive in his arms. pressing a kiss to their hair, he makes a vow to himself to do whatever it takes to keep them safe, no matter the cost.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Cat’s 3K Series

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

Part Three

By the end of the week, the hero was an expert in stitching. It was a lot of work.

On the outside, the villain didn’t look that bad but once the hero removed their clothing, the amount of cuts and bruises was scary. Their whole body was full of them and the hero had to use a lot of thread. There were also smaller wounds which the hero covered up with band aids.

Unfortunately, they only had coloured ones with comic animals (their niece had wanted those a while ago) which at first, had made the villain protest again. However, the hero had somehow managed to convince them that the colour of those band aids had absolutely nothing to do with their functionality.

One time, the hero caught them trying to escape again, limping, they’d aimed for the door but the hero had pulled them back, pressing their bodies against each other, hands on the villain’s chest. Handcuffs were useless, the hero had decided. Maybe that was a good excuse but the hero also had seen the marks those handcuffs had left on them.

Slowly, the week passed and slowly, all of the villain’s wounds were stitched and cared for, even those which reopened frequently thanks to their great struggling. The hero placed the last band aid on the villain’s jaw.

“You know,” the hero mumbled. “You’re a fucking pain in my ass.”

The villain’s eyes jumped to the hero’s.

“No dirty joke?” the villain asked.

Yeah, no dirty joke. With the villain around them 24 hours a day, it was more than a little complicated to play a role. Either that and crying themselves to sleep every night or walking around like an exhausted ghost all day. They’d decided on doing the latter.

The agency had urged them to file a report but the hero had called in sick. They knew they couldn’t do this for eternity.

The hero didn’t answer them.

“Your stitches are awful,” the villain said. “They look horrible.”

“You’re mean.” The hero looked at one of the stitches, slightly uneasy now.

“I didn’t ask you to treat my wounds.”

The hero didn’t say anything.

“Still don’t get it why you do all this shit. The agency is bad, I get that. But they’re heroes. Can’t be that bad.”

The hero stared at them, something close to a murder stare.

“You know nothing,” they said. They pushed the flashbacks into the corners of their brain. Deep down so they wouldn’t have to dig them up again. “There are some leftovers in the fridge, take them if you want to.”

The hero stood up and looked down at their shaking fingers. They breathed in, breathed out. But it didn’t go away.

Usually it did but with the agency right behind them, asking for mission reports and more work, psychic evaluations and health check ups and another mission, they couldn’t even fall asleep anymore. Maybe it had been a mistake to bring the villain here. Maybe they were better off alone.

“I don’t wanna eat your trash food.”

“You know what?” The hero turned around with a burning face. “You’re a massive fucking asshole. I saved your life, more than once by now and you do nothing but insult me.”

Anger and exhaustion mixed together, creating a poisonous soup the hero was more than ready to throw in the others face.

“I know my cooking isn’t the fucking best, alright? I know it sucks but I’m trying really hard to keep us both alive.” The hero’s hands formed into fists and they dug their fingernails into the palms of their hands. “Fine. Just leave if you want to. Leave.”

The villain had the audacity to actually look surprised. A little shocked too. What a joke.

“I won’t drag you back into this apartment. Leave. Escape. Whatever. I don’t care. I have better things to do.”

Blinded by overwhelming emotions, they grabbed their suit and walked out of the door. They accepted the mission the agency had given to them on their mobile phone.

Turned out, irrational decisions were the worst. The hero had suspected that with bringing the villain into their home but now, they were certainly sure this was their end.

Apparently their opponent’s evaluation was ridiculously wrong. The information the agency had sent to the hero had described them as “insufficient” and “negligibly violent.” They were anything but.

Within five minutes of the fight, the hero already had a broken rib and a sprained ankle. Ten minutes in and the hero had turned into prey that got hunted. The hero tried desperately to hide, to block where they could but it didn’t get them far. They got hit, could barely escape, got dragged back into the whole mess. Their opponent wasn’t enormous in size but they were quick. Focused. Agile.

The hero wheezed when another strong hit went to their stomach. They felt the crack and the pain, felt how tears formed in their eyes.

They made a noise, a horrible noise and broke down.

“Nothing personal,” their opponent said, voice deep. The hero fought for air but nothing filled up their lungs. Not fair. Not fair.

It wasn’t fucking fair.

Their tears fell to the ground and they gasped for oxygen which eventually found its way into their lungs.

They hadn’t made dinner yet. What if the villain really didn’t like the leftovers? But they’d eaten yesterday…

They squeezed their eyelids together. What were they even thinking about? The villain had probably left the house already, licking their wounds like a hurt dog in their lair.

What a thought. The apartment would be so quiet…

With time, they managed to breathe evenly. But weren’t they tired of fighting? Weren’t they just so, so done with everything?

“Who sent you?” the hero asked.

“I sent myself,” they said. “Wanted to see how strong those little heroes have become. Wanted to experiment a bit with you.”

Experiment.

“Please,” the hero begged.

Their throat went dry. Their breathing changed, breaking, crumbling in their control. They knew they couldn’t afford this right now but god it had never been this bad before. They grasped their suit, gripped the fabric stretching over their chest. It was hot. It was way too hot.

Tears streamed down their face. Experiment.

And then, suddenly, they felt a hand on their shoulder.

“This one is mine.” The hero looked up, finding the villain’s eyes easily. They wanted to cry out of happiness but the building panic attack prohibited it.

The opponent tilted their head, their eyes jumping between the villain and the hero.

“Where have you been?”

“I kidnapped them, they escaped,” the villain lied. Their fingers combed through the hero’s hair and they shushed. “Mistake on my part.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” the opponent asked. Slowly, the hero got a grip on reality. This wasn’t the end. It wasn’t the end, wasn’t the end, wasn’t the end—

“They became attached to me accidentally. I didn’t know if you’d approve,” the villain said. “I wanted them for myself.”

The hero saw the tension in the villain’s jaw, how they swallowed forcefully. They knew each other.

The opponent watched them carefully, suspiciously.

“Fine with me. Make them your puppy.” They looked at the villain intensely. “But don’t forget about my puppy back at home, will you?”

The hero didn’t understand the threat. However, when the villain carried them to the hero’s car, they understood that the villain had come to rescue them.

[queen-scribbles]

Girls Night Out

Post-Gauntlet Keme & Elara friendship fic bc I caught a plot gizka off the most recent time through. ft Jaxo's Checking In mission and Elara giving relationship advice :3 [~3500 words]

---

The medcenter hallway was 763 tiles long.

Keme knew this because she'd counted them while pacing. Thrice.

The lovely thing about being Havoc's CO was that it allowed her to know the "status of her team" but didn't necessarily let her do what she wanted with that information. Which was why she was here, in the kriffing hallway, instead of in there. When the medcenter said no visitors they meant it. No exceptions for commanding officers.

She'd memorized the list of Jorgan's injuries, too.

Which was why she was here. Pacing the hallway. Instead of out enjoying the brief--rare--shore leave, or restocking, or any of the half dozen other things she could think to do.

It was hard to read the words "punctured lung" and not worry.

Keme finally halted and slouched in one of the barely-padded chairs, fingers nervously tapping the armrest as she stared at the wall. Please be okay.

[Punctured lung. Multiple contusions and blaster burns from sustained heavy fire. Significant plasma burns to left leg, extensive bone and nerve damage; below knee amputation recommended. Potential retinal--]

Footsteps echoed down the austere hall and Keme snapped to her feet. Her shoulders dropped fractionally seeing it was Dorne.

"Not to be insubordinate, Major-" the other woman began, settling into parade rest posture when she reached Keme.

Keme waved off the concern. "We're on leave, Elara. And regardless, if you're about to dispense medical advice, it's hardly insubordinate for you to do your job." She shifted her weight, fighting the urge to pace again.

"Very well. You should go do something, Keme. This" --she gestured to the hallway-- "is not healthy for you, and it isn't helping anyone."

Keme snorted and rubbed at gritty eyes with the heel of one hand. "Like what, Elara? I don't have anyone to visit, I'm not much for shopping, and I'll bet my next three paychecks I couldn't focus on a book or vid to save my--"

Her comm beeped with a message notification. Keme frowned. Garza or the medtechs would've commed, no reason for her parents to be contacting her right now... She spotted a terminal and headed for it, Elara on her heels.

"Something the matter, sir?" Elara asked.

"Don't know yet." Keme signed in and pulled up her messages. There were two--one text, one audio. The text file proved to be the official notice of their promotions; major for her, captain for Jorgan, lieutenant for Dorne, and the medals and commendations earned on the Gauntlet mission.

"Would've made captain soon if Command hadn't hung me out to dry." She chucked internally at the memory. Hope this wasn't too much of a delay for you.

The audio message was from Jaxo. "Hey, hotshot, heard you're back on Coruscant, with leave no less. Some friends and I were equally lucky, and we're gonna do something fun with it. Swing by if you wanna join us."

"That sounds like someone you could visit," Elara commented. "As a distraction."

Keme rolled her eyes as she closed down the terminal. "C'mon, how much fun d'you think I'll be tonight?"

"You never know," Elara said with a shrug. "Maybe once you start relaxing, it'll help more than you expect."

Keme chewed the inside of her cheek. Under other circumstances, it would be fun. Maybe she should give it a shot. "I'll go if you come with me."

Elara arched a brow. "I wasn't invited."

"So I'm inviting you," Keme said. "I'll tell Jaxo since we both have leave we're a package deal."

"Oh, alright. If it'll get you out of here."

Keme gave a wry smile. "Guess this means we need to go find other outfits, that fit the tone of having fun better."

"I suppose we should," Elara said with a faux-sigh, and they started down the hall.

Keme couldn't help a last look back over her shoulder, as if that would make a doctor materialize with an update and justify her staying.

It didn't.

---

This cantina was too loud. The first couple hadn't been bad, which almost made the pounding music and din of customer chatter worse. Keme took the drink--gizer ale--Jorda clumsily shoved in her hands and surveyed the crowd. Dancing, drinking...

The song changed and Keme wrinkled her nose. It was too loud to think in here, let alone really talk. She took a sip of her drink as that clicked. The other places they'd hit so far; five of the eight Jaxo had tallied at the start, were busy, noisy, but not so much to prevent conversation. She could listen to Jorda or Keran's war stories, Jaxo regaling them with one of her declassified exploits, and it was at least somewhat the distraction she needed.

With this place too loud to think, her thoughts were slipping back to the default track, even as she sought some level of refuge at the high tables away from the dance floor.

Punctured lung. Multiple contusions and blaster burns from sustained heavy fire. Significant--

"Hey." Jaxo hoisted herself up on one of the other tall chairs. "This seems a dang'rous combo with drunk people," she muttered, briefly distracted, before looking back at Keme. "Why don't you look like you're havin' fun? The whole point of this is t' have fun!"

"It's too loud in here." Wasn't technically a lie; she was all but hollering just to talk. "Can hardly hear myself think."

Jaxo snorted. "Y' aren't s'pposed to think, you're s'pposed to dance, have fun, drink people under the table." She studied Keme for a moment, expression sobering at the half-shrug she got in response. "You've been quiet all night, come to think. Dorne looks like she's havin' more fun than you." She lightly kicked the side of Keme's boot. "Didn't you just save the Republic an' get a big promotion?"

"Yeah," Keme acknowledged, distracted by a specific flicker of movement as Elara worked her way through the crowd.

"Well, I've about had my fill of this sort of fun," she commented, setting her half-drunk Johrian whiskey on the table and claiming the remaining chair.

Jaxo rolled her eyes. "Think you've rubbed off on your CO, Dorne; she'd rather sit an' mope into her drink than celebrate."

Elara let the jibe roll off without acknowledgement, giving her attention to the latter part. "The promotion may be cause for celebration, but since the squad XO was seriously injured in the course of that mission, I think her reticence is understandable, don't you?"

Jaxo had the grace to wince at the explanation. "Didn't know that part, sorry, major." She nudged Keme's shoulder. "Still, you being all sullen an' worrying isn't gonna help him get better any faster, right?" Isn't it better to be in a good frame of mind for dealing with whatever Command throws your way?" She glanced around the room, did a double take and grinned when it passed over the others from their group. "Looks like Keran found us some new friends." She slid off the seat, tottered a little finding her balance, and flashed Keme a genuine smile. "Hope you'll feel up to joining us, hotshot."

Keme appreciated Elara's silence as they watched her leave, headed for the gaggle of clean-cut 'friends' who had joined Keran and Jorda.

"How d'you think she'd feel, knowing she agreed with you?" Keme sighed, folding her hands over her cup and resting her chin atop them.

"About what?" Elara took another sip of her whiskey.

"Relaxing's the point of shore leave. Unwinding so you're ready for your next assignment." She tried not to dwell on the likelihood Havoc would be running a member short for whatever theirs was.

The song changed, something slightly quieter, and she sighed in relief at the reprieve.

A small smile tugged Elara's lips and she swirled the remaining whiskey in her glass. "True as that is, and as good as it would be for your mental state regardless, I think you were 'wound' a bit further than the rest of us, so it follows it'll take you longer to unwind."

"But you two also have a point there," Keme said, idly watching the animated body language of Jaxo and Keran's "friends". A challenge had clearly been issued; Jorda plunked a tray of shots down on the table. "What good does worrying do? Not gonna speed up the healing process, not even gonna magically create an exception to the 'no visitors' policy." She straightened with a huff. "But it's like I can't help myself."

"Well, I'd say concern for your people when they get injured in the line of duty makes you a good CO." Elara raised her glass and slanted a mischievous look at Keme over the rim. "Though I'm under no illusions it would be quite so much a... distraction, in my case."

Keme made a strangled noise of indignation. "I- You're my friend, of course I'd worry-!"

"I know, and I'd appreciate it," Elara said with a smile. A loud whoop dragged their attention to where Jaxo was clearly winning whatever game was going on. "I also know this is different."

"No point playing dumb, huh?" Keme groaned and rubbed her temples. "It is and I don't know why."

Elara scoffed, barely audible under the music. "No? Need I remind you the ship's medbay is right next to the armory?" She arched a brow. "Or that I have functional ears and it isn't as if you two whisper?"

She should probably be a little embarrassed by the implication, but she wasn't. Keme slugged down half her drink in a go, cleared her throat at the burn. "Then you know it's just been talking." So far, she added mentally. "Maybe a little flirting, but nothing serious, nothing to justify wringing my hands over him getting hurt. 'Specially in this line of work."

Elara studied her. "Keme." She set her now-empty glass on the table. "Jorgan didn't just 'get hurt', he was seriously injured, almost died--"

"Thanks for preventing that, by the way," Keme muttered into her drink, suppressing a flinch at hearing it so bluntly.

"You're welcome. My point is, just because you two have been outwardly taking your time, exhibiting caution due to your positions, doesn't mean your heart was on the same timetable." She leaned back in her chair. "You've not done anything by half-measure since I met you, it would hardly be a surprise for this to follow the pattern. And... close calls like this can easily serve as catalyst for realizing the true depth of feelings."

"Very astute." Keme finished the last swallow of her drink and slid off the seat to stretch. "Both the advice and the noticing."

"As I said, it's not hard to pick up." Elara smiled and likewise slid out of her chair. The song changed back to something that pounded, prompting the two of them to head for the relative quiet of the street.

"Well, in that case, thanks for not reporting me for fraternization or something," Keme said dryly, taking a deep breath of comparatively cooler air.

"I don't see a need," Elara said, shrugging. "It's clearly mutual, and hasn't kept either of you from doing your jobs, quite well. So long as it doesn't interfere with operational effectiveness, I don't see it as my place to report anything you or Captain Jorgan haven't, sir."

Keme slanted a glance her way, smirked at the mischief glinting in her friend's eyes. "You playing matchmaker now, LT?"

(A small but undeniable pulse of glee burrowed through her gnawing worry at 'clearly mutual'.)

Elara tilted her head, brows arching in faux-innocence. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean, major. Should I stop??"

"Depends, do you think I need the help?"

"I have every confidence in your ability to pursue a man who's interested in you," Elara deadpanned. "If that's what you're asking."

Keme snorted. "Thanks. Then I guess it's just a matter of if you wanna be complicit should we get written up for fraternization down the line."

Elara perked up. "Oh, there's a form authorizing romantic relationships."

Of course there is. And of course you knew about it off the top of your head. "Great, more paperwork. Jorgan'll be thrilled."

"I think he'd do it for you."

"I think we should wait until it's actually a relationship before we worry about that, rather'n just flirting, huh?"

"If you insist," Elara said with a shrug.

Keme wondered what the odds were that form would be downloaded and waiting to be called for, when she was ready. Probably pretty high. She looked up, watching the racing lights of traffic flight paths for a minute. "Thanks, Elara. 'M sorry Jaxo's not exactly warm and welcoming, but I'm glad you came along."

"I was an unexpected addition," Elara said mildly. "And I'm far from ignorant of my reputation among Republic personnel. Their opinion of me is their business. Staying true to myself is mine."

Keme nodded. Good outlook. "How much d'you think it would shock them if we rejoin and I said you're the one who talked me out of moping and into havin' fun?"

Elara snickered. "Oh, that might almost be worth stretching the truth."

It wasn't that much of a stretch; talking about her muddled feelings had helped her feel better. More like celebrating. But they didn't get a chance to run their experiment. Even as they turned to head back inside, Jaxo and the others emerged from the cantina.

"Another one down," Jaxo crowed, hooking an arm around Keran's neck. "An' our tab's covered 'cause I drank her Navy buddies under the table!"

Ah. So that's who they were. "Quite the achievement," Keme drawled. "Where to next?"

"Done moping, major?" Jaxo teased.

Keme shrugged. "You and Elara made some good points. Tonight should be for fun."

Jaxo was too tipsy to hide her surprise. "Yeah? Glad we, uh, got through to you. We still have two stops left, hotshot. I expect you to pull your weight for them."

"Aye, aye," Keme said with a mock salute that Jorda found hilarious from her loud bout of laughter.

"Right then." Jaxo steered the group toward a taxi stand. "On to the Sloppy Tauntaun!"

Keme gave a startled bark of laughter. "That is not its name!"

"Oh, you're in for a treat," Jaxo sniggered as they piled into a cab. "Hole in the wall cantinas are the best."

---

Keme wasn't completely sure she'd agree with Jaxo's assessment once they're had their fun at the ironically well-kept Sloppy Tauntaun--she preferred cantinas with a bit of polish--but the drinks were good and they did have fun.

Last stop was the Silent Sun because it was closest to Jaxo's place. Smart move on her part; Jorda couldn't make it more than a few steps without giggling, Keran and Elara were weaving a little, and even with her slow start, Keme was feeling the buzz of not-quite-drunk(but more-than-tipsy). Still. She could walk a straight line, so not too bad. And she knew now Elara could match Jaxo shot for shot, which was fun information and had definitely increased Jaxo's opinion of the Havoc medic.

They'd turned down the hallway to Jaxo's place, Jorda now leaning on Elara while Jaxo punched in her access code--it took two tries, Maybe she was more plastered than she showed--when Keme's datapad beeped. She glanced at it out of habit.

Medcenter alert.

The pleasant alcohol buzz was gone.

She didn't open the message but its mere arrival was a reminder of reality.

Later. I'll deal with it after we leave. It still felt like her datapad was burning a hole in her pocket. She shook it off and followed the others into Jaxo's place. There was still the harsh reality of she couldn't do anything(except pace a groove in the hall), anyway.

"Hey. "Jorda's hand settled heavy on her shoulder. "You're amazing, y'know?" She blinked like a newly-sighted loth-kitten. "J'st amazing. Savin' our butts on Quesh? The Gauntlet? Amazing," she proclaimed with all the gravitas of an emphatic drunk.

"Thank you, Jorda," Keme said with a chuckle.

Elara materialized, gently tugging on Jorda's arm. "I think it would be best for you to lie down a bit, Corporal. Jaxo said you can use her bed, come on."

"Well, this was fun," Keran drawled as Keme joined her and Jaxo. "'Specially now that you've guaranteed I'll get heckled for the next month."

"Hey," Jaxo said with a grin and shrug. "If your Navy buddies can't drink a sweet little thing like me under the table, that's their problem, not yours. You heckle them right back."

Keran laughed. "Good plan. On that note, I better get going. We ship out late tomorrow, so I should work on sleeping off the incoming hangover. See ya 'round, Jaxo, Major."

"Later, Keran," Jaxo said, turning to Keme as Keran headed out. "Glad you made it. Even if it took a while for you to get in the spirit."

"I did need the distraction," Keme allowed, trying not to dwell on the medcenter alert. "Sorry I was a bit of a drag."

"Hey." Jaxo shrugged. "While I'm of a mind we should enjoy the good times when she get 'em, you had a pretty decent reason for that being tricky." She hesitated a moment, smile tugging her lips, then, "I gotta ask, this XO of yours... wouldn't happen to be the grumpus watchin' your six when we worked together, would it?"

Keme huffed a laugh. "Yeah. He's good at it."

"'Course he is." Jaxo snickered and sobered. "Well, I wish him a speedy recovery. And maybe Havoc can wrap this war up quick for us, huh?"

"You lookin' to swap for a desk job, Sergeant?" Keme teased.

Jaxo barked a laugh. "Please. I'd go insane inside a month." Her gaze flicked to the side as Elara rejoined them. "Am I gonna need to clean any of my stuff?"

Elara shook her head. "Not so far. But I would advise making sure she stays hydrated."

Jaxo gave a mock salute. "Aye, aye." She flopped back on the couch. "I'll let you two go. Thanks for coming."

"Yeah, sure," Keme said with a wave as she and Elara made for the door. "Thanks for the invite."

"Anytime, Major," Jaxo called after them just before the door closed.

They had to keep an eye for gangsters and so didn't have time for conversation until they were in the speeder back to the Senate district.

"Glad you went?" Elara asked lightly.

"Yeah. Needed the distraction," Keme said even as she dug out her datapad and pulled up the unread message. "Unfortunately, reality is persistent and has really bad timing..." She only skimmed the first couple sentences before handing the datapad to Elara. "Medcenter alert. You're better with parsing the jargon than I am."

One corner of Elara's mouth twitched and she took the datapad, lips moving silently as she read. "It's a treatment update... they were able to repair the retinal damage with no scarring..."

Good the squad sniper's vision isn't compromised, Keme thought sardonically, something tight easing in her chest.

"...they did have to amputate, the requisition for a cybernetic leg is attached. Being in SpecForce, particularly Havoc, that should be filled by end of day tomorrow; Command will want their top unit at full strength ASAP..." she read further. "...overall prognosis is good; full recovery and return to duty within two standard weeks."

"That fast?!" Keme blurted. She wanted Jorgan back, no question, but not because the medcenter rushed him out the door.

"The miracle of kolto," Elara said, shutting down the datapad and handing it back.

"And skilled medical personnel, and you," Keme added, tucking the datapad away. The tightness in her chest and gut eased further.

Elara arched a brow. "Wouldn't I fall under 'skilled medical personnel'?"

"No, 'cause you saved his damn life in the field, without access to all the fancy equipment here, that puts you in a category all your own, Dorne," Keme retorted.

"Don't forget Forex while you're doling out praises," Elara said, glancing at the buildings whizzing by.

"Oh, never. I've already bugged Garza twice about giving him whatever's the best commendation we can wrangle for a droid." Keme smirked a little, toying with the clasps of her jacket. "Squad loyalty and cohesion are grand."

"Your leadership's helped us get there," Elara said. "You're a fine commanding officer, and if I may say so, an even better friend."

"You may, and thank you." Keme shifted in her seat as the speeder pad came into view. "You're a good friend, too, Elara. Right down to talkin' me into girls' night out when I wasn't sure about it."

"That's what friends are for, sir," Elara said as the speeder settled on the pad and they climbed out. "As well as supporting you in rough times," she added when Keme's gaze went toward the medcenter. "Heading back?"

"Just to check in. Then--unless by some miracle the 'no visitors' policy has vanished--it's back to the Starbreaker for some rest."

"Sounds like a plan."

Keme nodded absently. Her bunk on the ship would be more comfortable than a medcenter chair, at least.

And she could always resume counting hallway tiles in the morning.

[coreancitizen]

After finishing "The Princess Royal," I went looking for Zhang Ling He's "The Story of Kunning Palace." Alas, it is not available from my usual sites. While checking out Zhao Jin Mai's profile on Viki, I realized she is also in "Reset," a time-loop mystery that is already on my watchlist after seeing Bai Jing Ting in "New Life Begins."

The series begins with a young woman calling the police about a bomb on the bus. She's Li Shi Qing, our FL, who has gotten off. She asks the cops to stop the bus and save the passengers. But just a few moments later, the bus explodes, killing everyone on board and other people in the vicinity. Then Li Shi Qing wakes up back on the bus and startles the guy sitting next to her. That's Xiao He Yun, our ML.

He sees her sweating and frantically tries to get her tissue from his bag, but accidentally hits her chest with his elbow. He apologizes but Shi Qing just stares him, then she grabs his hand and loudly accuses him of being a pervert, urging the bus driver to make a detour to the police station so she can file a report. This is another attempt on her part to get the police involved and save the passengers. At this point, we have no idea just how many times she's tried this. The bus driver agrees to stop the bus and let her off, but at the last second she grabs He Yun and they both step off. On the street, He Yun is confused, Shi Qing doesn't want to go to the police. He wants her to explain but she doesn't think she can. Who'd believe her about the time loop and the bomb? He gets in a cab, she walks the other way. A few moments later, the bus explodes — again. He gets caught in the blast, she gets hit by a delivery guy on a motorbike, and they both end up in the hospital. The police track her down as the person who warned them about the bomb on the bus and interrogate her (our first meeting with Captain Zhang), while He Yun fights for his life in the ER. Eventually, he dies and she falls asleep.

And they wake up in a new loop, except this time HE remembers, too. And so begins their partnership.

I really enjoyed this series. Actors Bai Jing Ting and Zhao Jin Mai are so darn likable I found myself thoroughly invested in how they were going to fix things and get out of the loop by the end of the first episode. Now, by nature, this kind of story is repetitive, but the show knew when to change things up. Sometimes we spend a lot of time on the bus as our heroes go through a lot of trial and KABOOM! Other times, we follow them off the bus as they try to understand the who, the how and the why of it all.

I wish the drama spent just a little bit more time exploring who Shi Qing and He Yun are. She's a university student with a very strong sense of right or wrong. He's a game designer who finds himself dealing with the kind of violence he's only familiar with in virtual spaces. But those are minor quibbles. The show is 15 episodes but I thought it went by fast. In fact, I finished the whole thing in about 3 days. Available right now on Viki.

[restless-clan]

INTRO/MASTERPOST

Heyo! Gave in to the clan-gen urges and so here we go again!

MOONS/UPDATES:

Moon 0/Allegiances Moon 1

Tags:

#restless clan update - all moons

#restless clan ooc - anything out of character/ hiii its me

FAQS:

How often will you update/ when will the next update be?

I plan to update as much as I can but life happens so expect probably every 2-ish weeks.

What version do you play on? How do you get those cats?

I play on advance and while trying to keep the designs as similar as to what the generator gives me, I do edit the sprites a bit for my own sake and for fun!

However I try not to to edit much else for the sake of my own fun (ex, bringing cats back from the dead, giving cats more strength). If you have questions on how to edit your save file please check out the official clan-gen discord :D

This is looks just like [insert other clan-gen blog here]!

I too interact with the fandom (I follow and like from @thefallling) and am inspired by other peoples work! I try to keep it original but at the end of the day I can't 100% guarantee everything is completely my idea.

[derireo-galge]

Sweet Giggle Of Yours | 1k | yoonmin✍️🏼

About some moments Yoongi and Jimin shared on and off cameras.

***

Jimin is infuriating.

They were all sat around the table, about to switch on the v app, checking their looks or scrolling through their phones. The younger was sat next to him, apparently very fascinated with the black t shirt Yoongi himself was wearing because he kept fiddling with its wide sleeve.

- What are you doing? - he drawled lazily. Jimin just giggled sweetly while continuing to lift the sleeve to trace his hyung's bicep and shoulder.

- I'm just an innocent observer, Suga-hyung.

His fingers were tentatively reaching further and further, blunt nails grazing the pale skin.

It was truly annoying. Because the moment he would look him in the face the younger would just cover his mouth with his cute stubby fingers and emit his melodious giggles and boy, was it getting to him. Indeed it was, because the dancer carried on during the live as well, but only with his denim clad thighs.

Yoongi was getting hot and bothered and all he wanted to do is to turn those sweet little laughs into songs of passion.

- Was it funny to you? - he whispered in Jimin's ear hours later while caging him against the closed door of his hotel room.

- Yeah, - the younger replied with the smirk on wet plump lips, - And totally worth it. 

* black dress shirt *

Yoongi looked so damn well in a black dress shirt.

It was a globally known fact, as well as his chest being a statement. It was nicely hugging his buff form, making his shoulders and pecs look especially delicious.

Jimin appreciated that a lot.

The material was a bit shiny but all the young man could think about is that chest, shiny and glistening, right above him. He was trying not to squirm too much and cover up his coughs with laughing when Yoongi was rubbing his knee or thigh, every touch igniting a wave of adrenaline and want inside him.

And how dare he do it while talking about a marriage drive through?? After they were done he almost ran towards his room, Yoongi hot on his tail.

With a soft clicking the door locked and they were left face to face, both panting, with reddened cheeks.

- Love the shirt, hyung, - Jimin sassed, trying to regain his breath, - Y-you look stunning.

The elder gave him a once-over.

- You're not so bad yourself, Park Jiminie.

- Yeah? - the young man giggled but was faced with the hand of his hyung lifted up in front of him.

- Don't, - he said curtly.

- What? - Jimin was dumbfounded.

Yoongi groaned, not moving his hand:

- It’s bad enough you look delectable as you are... but those damn laughs, Jimin-ah? - he looked him straight in the eyes, palm on his own chest how, - My heart can't take that!

- Oh, YOU! - Jimin laughed and pushed him to walk back until they landed on a soft bed, - off, everything off, right now! - he paused in the middle of sliding his slacks down his thighs, - but maybe... keep that shirt on?

Yoongi only raised his eyebrow up before complying anyway. 

*studio time *

- Two, three, four! - Yoongi signaled and pressed the record button.

Yet again they were in the studio recording a guide for a song.

The producer wasn't sure as of yet where this track will go or even how it will develop further. Maybe it was partially a good excuse to drag the younger in his abode to relish in the velvety flavour of his voice. Once they were done he saved the file and turned his full attention to the younger.

Jimin walked up closer and lifted his hand to grasp and gently tug at locks of his hair.

- It has grown really well, hyung, - he said, looking all over his head. - Suits you so nicely.

- You think so? - he rasped.

He liked it himself a lot.

- Yeah, you're gorgeous, - Jimin all but whispered.

Yoongi felt himself blushing.

Does he have to be so blunt all of a sudden?

- You just like teasing me, Jimin-ah, - he pouted and tried turning away.

He felt a strong urge to work on that track, any track in fact, so he could stop facing this pretty boy giving out compliments like candy.

But he couldn't move a single inch. In a swift motion Jimin grabbed the armrests of his chair to keep it in place.

He moved closer to his ear only to whisper:

- You blush so prettily, hyung. I have to see it closely. Where else do you blush? May I?

Yoongi didn't have to think hard.

He nodded in agreement and soon he felt dainty hands leaving playful touches and unbuttoning his clothes.

Jimin relentlessly teased and rubbed at the silky smooth skin, squeezing in all the right places, keeping his touches gentle but precise. Soon Yoongi had a lapful of the dancer, wriggling to settle comfortably and leaving featherlight kisses all over his neck and jawline.

His arms were circled around the elder's neck, hands playing with long silky locks, tugging and twirling them as he pleased.

- A-ah, Minnie, - he felt short nips on his clavicle and tried to hold himself from full on grinding up to the younger.

He grabbed his slender waist for support and tried to coax Jimin to relocate to the couch but with no avail.

- I'm starting to think you like this chair more than me, darling, - Yoongi grumbled, - If that's the case you can just have it, you know?

- I know, - the other replied instantly and okay, that was so obviously intentional, gods, Yoongi's blood pressure has never been this high.

He wanted to grab his lover in his arms and drag to their bedroom for a week or two.

Jimin leaned back to full on gaze into his hyung’s eyes.

- I do it because every time you come to sit here, right before your mind gets lots in work, I want you to have me in your thoughts. He said it with a beaming smile but his eyes were dead serious.

It was silent for a few moments, which Jimin used to his advantage and kept gently booping the elder's nose with his pointer finger.

- You're so annoying. - Yoongi said with finality.

- I know.

- You're infuriating me, - he whined.

Jimin snorted:

- Oh, I know.

- Every day I suffer because of Park Jimin.

- Must be fate then, - Jimin whispered so close to his lips, breaths mingling.

- I love you.

- I love you too.

The end

[gruesim]

Hi again! And happy new year :)

So two days ago I got the recent urge to check if everything was okay in my sims 3 folder so I ran sims 3 dashboard on it. The thing is it told me that some dbc files were corrupted. I related it to being some of the compressed sims3pack in those dbc being corrupted. (Because dbc are basically sims3pack installed into the game) So after A few headaches on how to find out which ones were the problem I basically converted the sims3pack to packages to ran Dashboard on them. Custard was not an option because it's a one by one program. Almost 1.000 came as corrupted with dashboard. So I checked some of the sims3packs that corresponded to the packages that dashboard was telling me were corrupted with the custard program. The result was not corrupted. And I don't know what to think. I searched about this but found nothing. And I really need a second opinion on the matter right now because I don't want to do.

Do I take them out and reinstall all my sims3pack without those that the dashboard is saying are corrupted or not? Because when I check most of them with custard, which is the one made to analyze sims3packs, it doesn't say they are corrupted. They are fine. Still dashboard insist that DBC are corrupted, and those sims3packs converted to package are corrupted. Maybe it's because something went wrong in the installation process? Idk :(

I'm really doubting a lot because I don't really have any problem with my game, nothing seems to be working wrong rather than the pizza man/woman never showing up in some of my save files. Besides I recognize a lot of the cc and I use them a lot in my game so I really don't want to get rid of them. I guess this is going to end up like when asking a friend about something and then doing whatever you want in the end XD. But I just really need (and want) someone else to tell me what they think. In this case, you 🥺

Thankyou so much for standing me and all of my problems 😂

Hi!

I never believe Dashboard about corrupt files so I would ignore all those warnings tbh. It constantly says things are corrupt. I personally would never install a sims3pack though. So if you want advice, delete all the dbc and conver all packs to package and then use cc magic or S3mo to merge!

[reverend-dog]

Reincarnation

“Stay here!” Sam commanded. “I’ll be right back!”

Mel chuckled. “If you say so.”

Sam had stood and turned to leave, but checked himself at Mel’s reply. He grimaced in embarrassment. “Sorry,” he offered, reminded of the girder that pinned Mel’s lower half. “I just need to find a lever.”

Shudders rocked the bulkhead and deck as a distant fuel core ruptured, the latest of many. “Don’t bother,” Mel advised, her tone as if the booth they shared were intact, along with the rest of the galley. “Even with a lever, you’re not strong enough to shift this mass.” She reached out her free hand, grabbed Sam’s sleeve. “Please, Sam. Don’t worry about me. Get yourself to safety!”

“No!” Sweat flew from Sam’s head as he shook it. “I’m not going to leave you! We promised we’d finish this together, and that’s what we’re gonna do!” He gripped Mel’s hand tried to prise it free from his sleeve.

Mel redoubled her grip. “Sam, no! You can’t save me. And it doesn’t matter anyway, I’ll just --” She bit her lip to interrupt the admission, then sighed. “Sam, I need to tell you something. You’re probably not going to believe it, but I’m hoping you will.” She gulped. “I don’t want to see you die, too.”

Sam crouched near her. “Hey,” he grated, “for better or worse, right? Just because we haven’t said it in front of a cleric yet doesn’t mean we don’t mean it.” Tears made clean tracks down his cheeks. “I can’t stand the idea of life without you.”

Mel reached up and wiped away a tear. “You’ll survive,” she told him. “And I’ll be there with you, as long as you remember.” She cleared her throat. “Sam, listen. I have to tell you something. Something I haven’t told anybody in many, many years.” She took a deep breath. “I was born first in Belfast, Ireland, Earth, in nineteen forty-three.”

Sam stared at her. “This is no time for jokes,” he chided. “Besides, I’ve seen your file. You were born on Maravilla, Titan, twenty-one oh-one. What are you trying to do, Mel?”

“You’re right,” Mel nodded. “That was my latest birthday. In between that and Belfast forty-three, I’ve been born, lived, and died twenty-five times.” She locked her eyes on Sam’s, her gaze earnest. “I don’t stay dead, Sam. Every time I die, I come back. How do you think I know so much about so many subjects? Speak so many languages, know so many cultures? It’s because I’ve grown up and lived in every single one of them.”

“Mel,” Sam made his voice soft, soothing, “just take it easy. You’re going into shock. Give me a few moments, and --”

“No, Sam!” Mel grimaced at him. “Listen to me! Have I ever made a claim like this before? Ever said anything remotely close to this? If I were shocky, or trying to get you to go on your own, would I make up something like this?”

“You might,” Sam mused, “if you thought that I wouldn’t listen to simple reason. And you’d be right about that, too.” Another blast, closer, rattled the room. “Torpedo,” Sam identified. “They’re still firing.”

“Sam,” Mel urged, “leave me. Get to a lifeboat.” She offered him a smile. “I’ll be all right, honest. And hey, think about this.” Her eyes twinkled. “Given current advances in anagathics, you might stay young long enough. Don’t be surprised if oh, twenty or thirty years from now, some guy or girl taps you on the shoulder and mentions the time we joined the Trans-Light Club!”

Sam blinked, and the blush that colored his cheeks stabbed a sweet needle through Mel’s heart. “You’re serious,” he said.

“Like a heart attack,” she confirmed. “Pyongyang, North Korea, aught-three. Now please, Sam. Go.” She smiled again. “Stay alive for me. I’ll find you. I promise.”

Sam returned a grave look. “Hold you to that,” he whispered. Then, with a swipe of one sleeve across his eyes, he pushed himself upright, turned, and climbed through the wreckage.

Mel watched him go, then lay her head back. “After all this time,” she murmured, “you’d think I’d know better than to get attached. But a few years together beats eternity alone.”

The ship rocked again, harder. The girder broke free from the ceiling and fell. Agony flared across Mel’s midsection, and the old feeling of slipping away crept over her. “Please,” she prayed, “don’t let this be the last time.”

[soyasojourns]

Long forgotten tunes, suddenly playing on my mind

It's one of those days that I suddenly remember a random tune, followed by a random urge to find the song on the internet.

Last year, several notes from the song Tsubasa wo Kudasai kept repeating in my mind. I tried to recall all the Japanese high school-themed movies I watched back in University involving choir competitions or choral singing, but I couldn't find "the song". As I scanned through choir video clips from Japanese movies, songs like Tegami, 3/9, and Chiisana Koi no Uta came up and I felt nostalgic hearing them again. Then it hit me. Perhaps if I look for "Japanese choir pieces", I'd find the song. And lo and behold - I did as it is one of the standard pieces usually sung in Japanese school choirs. I played all the titles and was so elated when I finally found the song - it was called Tsubasa wo Kudasai (Please Give Me Wings).

As usual, I haven't bothered to look at the English translations and I just checked it while writing this post. I'm a music/tune first before lyrics kind of listener.

If I can get one wish  To come true right now, I want a pair of wings Please grant me  white wings On my back  like a bird

In this huge sky  I wanna Spread my wings  and fly Towards the free sky without any sadness I wanna flap my wings   And go

I still dream of  those things That I've dreamed about  when I was little

A while ago, another tune came into my mind. Fortunately, there were some lyrics that I remembered although I wasn't sure if what I recalled were correct. The words in my mind that I searched for were "hanbun no sora wo song". This was a fast find, I saw a newer song, and another song, which came from an older anime back in the early 2000s. I got my song, and the title is Aoi Kofuku (Blue Blessing) by Nobuko. I wonder where I heard this song because I have definitely not watched the anime it was associated with.

Some parts of the English translation that I really liked.

In the pale town, my shadow sways I walk slowly, not knowing my destination My feelings can't reach you

The night of the half-moon shines down on tomorrow I kick free of the darkness extending into the distance Under the half-moon, we walk without stopping.

The night of the half-moon shines down on us I shake free from the time pursuing us If we are each half, together we can draw our future

I love how the tune is reminiscent of the late 90s/early 00s sound where vocals and guitar, acoustic style can already bring out a lot of color in music.

Then lastly, as I was trying to recall how I came across the song, I was reminded of a website called Gendou where I used to download all my anime music mp3s (or was .wav the file format then?). The website still exists and still hosts anime music downloads among others. At that time, I must have just randomly downloaded songs from the website and Aoi Kofuku was included. あー　なつかしい　Ah, how nostalgic. I wonder if I have saved those music files somewhere.

The last tune that I was able to search for online was also relatively easy since I clearly remembered the English lyrics part of the song. My search read as "just hold on tight anime lyrics". The title is Open Up Your Mind by Mirai, a Singaporean vocal group. This song was used as an insert background music for a popular anime at that time, which I have also not watched yet.

I have probably not paid attention to the Japanese lyrics before since I found the English part of the lyrics enough, but my Universe, just learning the meaning of the song as I listened to it again brought a sudden heaviness that was swept away gently by relief. I must have gone through a tough period of time when this song found me back then. My mind no longer remembers, but my body just did after listening.

Some of my favorite lines from the English translation

I wish for you to have the strength to make it through this world, so open up your mind, and you'll be able to see...

The stars may live for a long time, but that doesn't mean that the same days will repeat over and over forever. No one can see into tomorrow.

Just hold on tight, because if you close your eyes, look inside yourself, you'll feel a heartbeat. Yes, I want you to believe in the future. You can take another look from the other side.

Just hold on tight, even if your heart is breaking. Reach into your soul, even if you can't see tomorrow. Yes, there's another world out there. You can take another look from the other side, and you'll be able to find all that is love...

If this song were only available on Spotify, it will be a wonderful playlist together with Yuki Kajiura's Open Your Heart and Egao ga Suki Dakara (Because I love your smile).

This is enough for my tune searching for today. The last song will appear when it is ready. But perhaps you could help me even if I only have this information: 2 girls on vocals - a duet song, part of the lyrics that I remember is: da-n-da, da-n-da, dan shinaikara(?). The tune is going up from the first 'da' part.

[polarisexpress]

Il 2 sturmovik 1946 for windows 7

You can open it with Notepad, by the way. But you can get around that easily enough.įor the original IL-2 Sturmovik, if you go to the first CD, you'll find "autoexec.inf." ANYTIME you have difficulty with a disk-based program doing what it's supposed to do, check that file first. Can anyone help? Installing the CD/DVD based IL-2 games is more of a challenge than it ought to be, because there's some OS-specific scripting in the installer routine. I don't remember having these issues in the past. I get the popup asking if I want to run the installation, click yes, and then nothing happens.

You see I own the original game, found the CD, and tried installing it just now, but nothing happens. I've had the urge to play this game again recently, and though I own IL2-46 I'm trying to install IL2 from the disc. I know I used to use Win2K for a while.) I own Pacific theatre (I forget the official name,) and the complete Il2-'46, and even have a folder of it on my backup drive with a few mods, but I've been wanting to play the original for some time now, and thought I never could, but thankfully I still have the CD! =D It may be that when I first bought the game I had WinXP (Almost certainly, though I don't remember when the different versions were released.

Also, you can copy all contents of the CD to your HDD for faster file access speed and, consequently, faster loading times.Ĭheers & have fun! That's fantastic news. Game started up fine, i was able to change video resolution among the other options, quick battle, training & career seem to work fine (not sure about saving though make sure to check it out if you intent to play the game without installing it). I tried both setup.exe & SetupUbi.exe in all compatibility options and with UAC disabled to no luck, but i was able to actually run the game (without installing it) by clicking the il2.exe which resides into the IL2 folder of the CD. Vythonaut: Just tested my copy of the IL-2 Sturmovik (2001's first version) and i couldn't get it to install on my Win7 64bit system. Anyway, your best option as i said in my previous post, is to go with the newer and updated IL-2 1946 which, also, is the only version that can be modded (if you want). Neither games (IL-2 & IL-2 Forgotten Battles) seem to support Win7, at least officially. Also, you can copy all contents of the CD to your HDD for faster file access speed and, consequently, faster loading times.Īlso, out of curiosity, i tried to install Forgotten Battles and it seems that one installs & plays flawlessly. Can anyone help? Just tested my copy of the IL-2 Sturmovik (2001's first version) and i couldn't get it to install on my Win7 64bit system.

Gamer025: I'm running Win7, and I'm the admin.

[shemarmooresfedora]

Can’t Be Your Secret Anymore

Summary: You hardly expected the next time you saw Spencer after your big fight is him coming out of an ambulance on a stretcher.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Nurse!Fem!Reader

Content/Warnings: one swear word, arguing, hospitals, fluffy ending!

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: this is an anon request!!! anon, i hope i did your wonderful request justice! my asks are always open for anything (random concepts, full-fleshed ideas, or just random thoughts/questions)

Masterlist

“Sorry, I’m home late, sweetheart. The team wanted to go out for drinks after work and then Savannah wouldn’t let me leave until I did karaoke,” Spencer chuckled, “Luckily, she was drunk enough that I slipped out without ever having to fulfill my promise.”

Spencer’s smile faded once he realized you weren’t smiling too.

“Why did Savannah get to go but I can’t? We have been dating longer than her and Derek,” you huffed, crossing your arms.

“Baby, it’s not the same thing…” Spencer began to say.

You shot up from the couch, “It is too the same thing, Spencer. I have asked you at least 5 times to meet your team and you always say it’s not the right time. When will it be the right time, Spencer? A year? Ten? I can’t wait around until you decide I’m good enough for your friends,” you began walking around his apartment, collecting your things.

“No, Y/N. Please stay. You can meet them! You can meet them, I swear! Please don’t go,” Spencer desperately begged.

“I never wanted a pity invite,” you sighed, “Goodbye, Spencer. Call me if you would finally like to commit to me for once.”

The gentle closing of his apartment door cracked Spencer’s heart in half. He snuck out early from the bar in hopes of being cuddled up with you but now he was all alone.

-

A week. It had been a week since you walked out of Spencer’s apartment only to be met with radio silence. If you were being honest, you hadn’t really expected Spencer to make no attempt to get back together with you. But if he really didn’t want you back, you needed to start moving on with your life.

“Y/N, we’ve got an incoming ambulance,” Linda, the other on-call ER nurse said, snapping you out of your daze.

You jogged out to the ambulance bay, suiting up with rubber gloves.

The ambulance screeched to a halt outside the entrance as the paramedics unloaded the stretcher.

“White male. Early 30’s. GSW to the neck. Pulse is thready,” the paramedic stated.

The patient’s eyes opened slightly for just a second and they locked with yours.

“Spencer,” you whispered under your breath as his eyes closed again.

You and Linda rolled him up the OR before returning back to the ER floor. You took a seat at the desk and put your head in your hands. You were trying to control your breathing because being in the elevator with your barely alive ex-boyfriend was not how you expected this night to go.

“Do you know Reid?”

Your head snapped up to the muscular man that travelled in the ambulance with him.

“What?” you asked, even though you heard him the first time.

“It sounded like you said ‘Spencer’ when you pulled him out of the ambulance. I was just asking if you knew him,” Derek said.

“Um, kind of. We have a mutual friend so I’ve seen him around but I really don’t know him that well,” you lied.

It pained you to say that you didn’t know Spencer well at all when he was fighting for his life in surgery but then again, did you really? The mutual friend technically wasn’t a lie because you guys were set up by Patricia, a librarian, because you were the only two people under 60 that came into the library regularly.

Derek didn’t seem to be convinced but he nodded and stepped away regardless.

When the head surgeon working on Spencer came out, you purposely pretended to be doing a task close to where his whole team had gathered.

“Dr. Reid is expected to make a full recovery,” you heard, you let out an instant exhale of relief, “He is in Room E105 if you would like to see him now.”

Shit. That was the wing you were in charge of post-op for. The surgeon found you and handed you the clipboard of Spencer’s file before returning back upstairs.

You slowly made your way to the room. Thank god, you could see he was still unconscious through the door. You knocked lightly on the open door to alert the team of your presence.

“Hi, I’m Nurse Y/L/N. I’m in charge of Spenc-I mean Dr. Reid’s post-op. I just need to check his vitals real quick,” you informed them.

A blonde woman with bright bold clothing that you assumed was Penelope, based on what Spencer told you, backed away from Spencer to give you room to work, “Do whatever you need to do, sweetheart.”

That sent a pang through your chest. Spencer always called you ‘sweetheart’ but maybe that was just because he could never bring himself to call you ‘love’.

“He’s all set. I’ll be back in an hour,” you flashed a polite smile before quickly leaving the room that felt like it was suffocating you.

“Thank you!” Penelope called after you.

-

An hour later, you picked up Spencer’s clipboard once again and headed to his room, stopping in your tracks when you saw he was awake.

You made brief eye contact before you whipped around and speed-walked back down the hall.

“Linda, can you take my patient in E105 please?” you pleaded.

“Is it super gross?” she cringed.

“No, it’s just someone I’d rather not talk to right now. It’s just a vital check for a post-op GSW,” you informed her, “I’ll let you take an extra 5 minutes on break and I’ll do all the bedpan changes.”

“Fine,” Linda grabbed the clipboard and headed to Spencer’s room.

Linda decided to take her slightly longer break right after doing Spencer’s post-op. So when his ‘call nurse’ button started rapidly going off, you had no one to turn to.

You sprinted down the hallway to his room and quickly opened the door to see him sitting up, perfectly fine with the remote in his hand.

“Are you dying?” you asked flatly.

“Without you, yes I am,” Spencer replied.

You rolled your eyes and let out a humorless chuckle before heading to the door once again.

“Wait, Y/N!” he urged.

You didn’t turn around until you heard a ripping sound followed by a loud ‘ow’. When you turned around, you saw Spencer had pulled his bandage half off.

“Spencer! Why did you do that? I have other patients to tend to,” you grabbed the roll of gauze on the table.

“Now you have to listen to me as you reapply my gauze,” Spencer explained.

“Where did your team go? Can’t you bother them?” you huffed.

“You met them?”

“Don’t worry. I said I barely knew you through a mutual friend. I know how terrible it would be for you if they found out you were dating me,” you assured him.

“No, no! That’s not what I want. I want to scream from the rooftops that you’re my girlfriend. I just get scared that once we make it official to everyone, it will be even harder when I lose you,” Spencer admitted.

“Why do you think you’re going to lose me?”

“Because you’re way out of my league. Sometimes I still think you’re just a figment of my imagination and this couldn’t possibly be real,” Spencer confessed.

“Spencer, you’re a hot genius FBI agent. If anybody is out of anybody’s league, it’s you.”

“And you’re a hot ER nurse who probably saves more lives than I do on a daily basis and...I love you.”

Your breath hitched in your throat, he finally said it. A sign of commitment.

“I love you too,” you spoke softly, gently pressing down the last strip of gauze on his neck.

You heard chattering approaching and the whole team appeared at the door with food and drinks in their hand.

“Alright, Dr. Reid,” you shot up from the edge of the bed, “Your gauze is all set. Press the button again if you have any other complications. Enjoy your dinner. Remember only jell-o or soup,” you headed to the door.

“Y/N, wait,” Spencer grabbed your wrist before you got very far and then interlocked your hand with his, “Guys, this is my beautiful and amazing girlfriend, Y/N, who I love very much.”

“Um-hi,” you waved.

Derek looked between the both of you and grinned.

“We were just going to have some dinner if you would like to join us, Y/N,” Penelope offered.

“Sure! Let me just tell Linda I’m taking my break,” you smiled.

You tried to leave again but Spencer still wouldn’t let your hand go.

“Spence, I’ll be right back,” you promised.

“I need a kiss before you go,” he grinned.

You rolled your eyes playfully before leaning down to give him a loving kiss that made up for all the kisses you lost over the past week.

taglist (just ask to be added or removed): @samuel-de-champagne-problems @g0lden-cth @spencerreid9 @averyhotchner @coldlilheart @k-k0129 @ickleronniekinsemotionalrange @harrystylesandthegoobs @cmily @jswessie187 @rem-ariiana

[bacarasbabe]

[Play]

Moodboard by @saradika

Please read part one [Rec*]

Summary: Rex watches the recording he made with the reader while shipped out.

NSFW 18+ Only

Pairing: Rex x Female Reader

Word Count: 1.6k+

Tags: Male masterbation, consensual sex tape, piv sex, oral sex (male receiving), tit fucking, rough oral sex (male receiving), implied cream pie, mentions of war, mentions of death, stress, pining, smut with feelings

It's late, or maybe it's early. Rex can't be bothered to check. The only reason he's in his tent right now is because General Skywalker ordered him to get some rest. His armor is in a neat pile at the foot of his cot, but he can't bring himself to lay down and close his eyes.

There's too much running through his head. The battle is heavy in his mind. Too many men lost. Too much strategy to go over. Plans needing to be made. Orders needing to be carried out. There's too much to do. Too much to think about.

Through the storm of thoughts, Rex's mind inevitably begins to drift to you. It's been weeks since he's been able to com you and he wishes he could hear your voice. You always knew how to calm his nerves, ease his mind. The best sleep he ever gets is with you, his girl. It doesn't matter if it's in your apartment or if you've snuck into his private quarters on base.

Thoughts of the last time he had you alone in his room begin to push through the battle plans and thoughts of his brothers and what's coming tomorrow. His eyes fall on his helmet that's sat between his feet. Yeah, he had some time.

He's already starting to get hard, his blacks beginning to feel tight, and he doesn't even have his helmet on yet. Just the thought of you, the thought of the video file he has saved in his helmet has him half hard. He's got his cock out and ready as he places his helmet on and navigates to the encrypted file.

He's greeted by the image of your face, lips kiss swollen, and hair mussed from running his fingers through it. He can see faint traces of blush painting your cheeks.

"So..." Your voice comes through the speakers in his helmet. It feels like you're right there. Like you're standing right in front of him, looking away because while you're eager to do this you're also a little nervous. Rex has the urge to reach out, to cup your face in the palm of his hand and turn you to face him again. To see your pretty eyes looking at him. But you're not really here. You're systems away. Too far for him to use his personal com to reach you.

He's drawn out of his thoughts by your image turning back to him and smiling. "How about," he can see, not feel, your hands on his chest beginning to slide down his bare torso, "I get on my knees for you first."

"That's my girl," Both the recording of Rex and his present self praises. His cock jumping in the palm of his hand as he watches you beginning to lick and suck his cock. He groans, the sound reverberating around inside his helmet mixing with the wet slurping sounds you're making around his cock in the recording.

Rex stokes his cock in time with your bobbing head. Pausing to rub the tip when you still your movements, choking slightly on his size. You pull back looking back up at him, eyes watery but expression proud. You had managed to take him down your throat. The recording of Rex reaches down, fingers skimming over the top of your cheek. The current Rex needs more.

Navigating through the HUD, Rex speeds up the recording. Images of you moving too fast and jerkily begin to flash acrossthe screen. He's searching for something a bit.... more. Images still flashing quickly across the display, Rex sees what he wants and quickly pauses. Slowly scrubbing back to the point he wants, he starts the recording again.

Your voice fills his helmet again. "Oh fuck. Oh fuck Rex." Your speech is slurred in pleasure as you cum around his cock. Your breasts bouncing heavily in the center of the screen. The Rex stuck in his tent, leaning over his hard cock on an unfamiliar planet picks up the pace on his strokes. Anticipation of what his recording counterpart is about to do runs down his spine.

He squeezes his cock in a poor imitation of you clenching around him.

When the recording of you is done squeezing his cock, Rex pulls out and quickly settles himself higher up on you. Knees under your arms, calves squeezing your ribcage. His hands reach down and squeeze your breasts together. Thumbs pressing on your pebbled nipples. He slides his cock, slick with your release, between your heavy tits. Squeezing them tightly against his throbbing cock as he begins to fuck your chest.

"Fuck, Rex. That's so karking hot. You like fucking my tits?" Rex's hand jerks on his cock. Your filthy mouth surprising him. His recording is moaning and telling you how good your tits feel around him. But now, now he realizes how much you're doing for him right now. He didn't see it then, too enraptured by your form. But he sees it now. The show you're putting on for him right now. Trying to turn him on and help him out in any way possible. Even if that means speaking up when you're usually quiet.

He wants to cum. He wants this release so bad. Not just for himself, but for you too. His girl, trying so hard for him. But he just can't... quite... reach it yet. He lifts his helmet just enough to spit in his hand, hoping the added slick helps him further along. And it does, a bit. But now he remembers what's next in the video and Rex can't help but to slow down in preparation. He wants to watch this.

The recording shows a brief glimpse of his private quarters back on Coruscant as he walks around the bed. Your face comes into view as he looks down except now you're upside down. Head and neck hanging off the edge of his mattress. His hands cradle your head so you don't strain your neck or shoulders.

"Are you okay with this?" His recording asks.

"Of course, Rexy." Your smile bright, a contrast to the dirty act he's asking of you.

"Good girl. Best karking girl there is." Rex mutters inside his helmet as he watches the video of him tilting your head back and sliding his cock inside your open mouth. Your jaw must hurt, the way you're keeping it wrenched open. But the sounds. Oh fuck, the sounds of his cock, fucking your mouth like it’s a pussy. Like it’s your warm, wet pussy that’s wrapped around him instead of his karking hand.

Kriff! What the stars is wrong with him? He’s got a literal personal pornographic video, starring his kriffing dream girl and he still can’t karking manage to pop one off.

“Captain! Hey Rex, me and some of the boys were-” Rex has his helmet off quicker than lightning.

“Not now! Piss off!” He yells at the soldier outside his tent. One of his vod. He’d feel guilty if he weren’t still so keyed up. His cock still throbbing, aching for release. The head bright with need and leaking precum onto his once clean blacks. He just, needs a minute. More time with you. Rex relaxes a fraction as he hears his brother walk away. He didn’t give a flying kark who it was in this moment. Because it wasn’t fucking you.

When Rex collects himself enough to shove his head back inside his bucket, he’s greeted with the sight of your plump ass. You’re on your hands and knees, the recording of Rex leaving angry red handprints across your jiggling globes. His cock is thrusting in and out of your swollen, wet pussy in long unforgiving strokes. Your voice is calling out to him. A siren’s call Rex wishes above all else he could answer.

“I’m here. I’m right here baby. I’ve got you. Let me take care of you.” His words mix with his own recorded praises in a strange echo.

He can see you cuming in the video. He can see your pussy squeezing his cock, trying to force it out of you as you collapse into the bed. Your release coating his cock and spraying up onto his abdomen. Kark. That’s so fucking hot. And he knows he can draw another one out of you. He knows he can bring you over the edge again. You’re nodding agreeing with him. Yeah, you’ve got one more in you and he’s gonna give it to you. Anything you ask for. It’s yours.

So when the picture of you pulls in close, and Rex is staring directly into your eyes, he finds himself again. He didn’t realize how utterly lost and lonely he was without you here. Looking directly at him. Staring at him through his vizor, through the recording, through stars, and systems, and distance. He finds himself looking at the woman he loves.

“I miss you, Rex.”

Rex’s orgasm punches through him catching him completely off guard. He’s not sure if it’s his recording or him now or a mixture of them both that’s making that half strangled noise that sounds likes he’s dying. But kriff… he feels so karking good. Like he’s almost pumping you full right now as you’re crying out from your own release in the video.

The recording cuts out and Rex is left in the dark, holding his softening cock in his cum covered hand. He’s boneless, his sloppy hands dropping his helmet on the floor of his tent. Uncaring where it lands. He’ll find it in the morning. Wiping his hand and blacks off with a clean sock he throws that aside too. He's unbothered with it right now as Rex lays down on his cot. He turns the lamp off, once more plunging himself into darkness. Except this time, the image of your face as you tell Rex you miss him is burned in his eyes.

A comforting image to dream of. He hopes to see you soon.

Masterlist

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[mostlysignssomeportents]

The doctrine of dynastic wealth

The biggest news story of the moment Propublica's reporting on the Secret IRS Files, a trove of leaked tax data on the wealthiest people in America that show that they pay effectively no tax, through perfectly legal means.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/15/guillotines-and-taxes/#carried-interest

The Bootlicker-Industrial Complex has completely missed the point of this reporting and its followup, like the revelation that an ultrarich candidate for Manhattan DA was able to pay no tax in many years where her family booked millions in revenue.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/06/17/quis-custodiet-irs/#trumps-taxes

The apologists for super-rich tax-evaders lean heavily on the fact that America has a tax-code that substantially reduces the spending power (and thus political power) of people who work for a living, while enhancing the wealth of those who own things for a living.

The rich are obeying the law, so there is nothing wrong here. But what Propublica documented is that America has a different set of laws for the super-rich than for the merely rich, and that these laws are in a wholly different universe from the laws for the rest of us.

It's another example of America's unequal justice system - a subject that includes long prison sentences for crack possession and wrist-slaps for powder cocaine, long jail terms created by the cash bail system, and a host of other race- and class-based inequities.

It's more proof, in other words, that America isn't a republic where we are all equal before the law, but rather a caste system where inherited privileges determine how the law binds you, how it punishes you and how it protects you.

One person well-poised to describe how this system perpetuates itself is Abigail Disney, granddaughter of Roy Disney and great-niece of Walt Disney, inheritor of a vast family fortune shielded from tax by a generation-skipping trust contrived solely to avoid taxation.

Writing in The Atlantic, the heiress describes how she was inducted and indoctrinated into the system of American dynastic wealth, surrounded by brilliant accountants who treated their exotic financial vehicles as completely ordinary.

https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2021/06/abigail-disney-rich-protect-dynastic-wealth-propublica-tax/619212/

Personally, these financial enablers were "decent, good, kind men," and they gave Disney 40 years' worth of gospel about protecting the capital, growing it, and passing it on to the next generation.

As a credible 21 year old, Disney had no frame of reference. The creation of a dynastic, ever-growing fortune through legal but frankly bizarre accounting fictions was treated as normal.

To the extent that these tactics raised any doubts, they were addressed through doctrine: the idea that government bureaucrats can't be trusted to spend money wisely.

Disney doesn't say this, but a common trope in these discussions is that the government is ever tempted to give money to poor people, and must be protected from this impulse.

This racism and classism are dressed up as "meritocracy" - the tautology that the rich are worthy, the worthy are rich, and anyone who isn't rich is therefore unworthy.

In the first generation, this doctrine is merely sociopathic, but when passed on to a new generation, it is eugenic. Walt and Roy demonstrated their worth by founding a studio and navigating it through the challenges of the market, and that is why the market made them rich.

But their children - and grandchildren - didn't get their wealth by founding or running a studio. They got their wealth by emerging from the correct orifice. If their wealth is deserved, those deserts are a matter of blood, not toil.

In other words, they were born to be rich, not just as a matter of sound tax planning, but as a matter of genetic destiny. They are part of a hereditary meritocracy.

https://pluralistic.net/2021/02/13/data-protection-without-monopoly/#inequality

Disney describes what it's like to be indoctrinated into the hereditary meritocracy: her family told her that the appearance of philanthropy is good, but actually giving money to poor people is a foolish enterprise, "unseemly and performative."

And they urged her to marry her own class, "to save yourself from the complexity and conflict that come with a broad gulf in income, assets, and, therefore, power." Power should be in the hands of "successful" people, because they know how to wield it.

Accept this ideology and you will be showered with wonderful gifts: like private jet trips, which quickly become necessities ("once you’ve flown private, wild horses will never drag you through a public airport terminal again").

It's a subject that is well-documented in Mike Mechanic's 2021 book JACKPOT, on the daily lives, dysfunctions, and above all, ideology of the super-rich:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/13/public-interest-pharma/#affluenza

As to the seductiveness of the ideology, I had my own experience with the "decent, good, kind" professionals of the finance sector. When I moved to London in 2003, I opened a checking account at Barclays, a giant high-street bank.

I quickly discovered that part of Barclays' legendary profitability came from understaffing its branches; when I had to see a teller, I could end up waiting in line for an hour.

When I complained about this, a teller told me that for a nominal annual sum, I could get a "premier" account that came with a host of benefits, including priority tellers. I signed up and was inducted into the premiership by my branch manager.

He asked me if I needed any help with tax preparation, and boy did I ever. I was filing tax returns in Canada, the US, California, and the UK - it was a mess: not just expensive but confusing, and I couldn't make heads or tails of the paperwork.

A week later, a very smartly turned out Barclays "tax specialist" came by the academic research center where I'd borrowed a desk to meet with me. She was wildly excited to discover that I was on a work visa and not a UK citizen.

She told me that this made me eligible to become a "non-dom" - someone living in the UK, but not "domiciled" there - and therefore not subject to any tax at all.

She laid out a whole plan for me: I could establish residence in one of the Channel Islands (Jersey, I think?), incorporate a shell company there, and continue to get free health care from the NHS, use the public roads, etc - all without paying a penny to HM Exchequer.

And when I was ready to buy a house, the whole thing would only get better: I could buy it through the shell company, reverse-mortgage it, rent it to myself, take fabulous deductions on the way, and pass it on tax-free by transfering the shell company rather than the house.

It was dizzying, and I kept asking her to go back and explain it again. She assured me that it was legal and normal, what every non-Briton living in the UK should do, and really poured the pressure on.

It was weirdly spellbinding, like a wizard was demonstrating an interdimensional portal to me and asking if I wanted to go through it to a magical land - a magical land that "everyone else" was already visiting on the reg.

I told her I'd think about it. Five minutes after she left the office, I snapped out of the trance. I never called her back. I figured out my UK taxes.

But today, reading Disney's account of having reasonable-seeming, friendly experts tell you something bizarre and indefensible is normal, I was powerfully reminded of my own brush with the dynasty-creation industry.

[exovapor]

I'm OBSESSED with your writing. Can you try.. Maybe, Donnie being a filthy boy being an 'stalker-ish' of his long time crush? Be checks their FB for new posts, saves every picture of them he finds? He doesn't mean to be a creep, feels guilty, but just doesn't know how to ask for more than friendship?

Good afternoon Anon. Here is my short story in relation to your ask.

I wasn't sure where you wanted me to take this, so I had to do a bit of guessing on my part. I hope this something like you were wanting.

I will admit that this ask was a bit of a struggle for me, not knowing a clear direction to take it outcome made me a little unsure of my writing and guessing abilities LOL. However, I will admit to crying along with the characters in this story more than once.

Thanks again for the ask and the initial compliment. I hope to continue to earn your favor in future posts.

· Stalker [noun]: 1a person who harasses or persecutes someone with unwanted and obsessive attention. 2a person who hunts game stealthily.

· Donnie stared at the definition on his one of his monitor screens while his various other screens were busy flashing receipts of files downloaded, text trail streams from your phone, notices of any social media post/update/like/heart/emoji, a GPS line grid of your routes today (overlayed over the routes you’d taken previously), and data search hits of anything and everything that pertained to you.

· At this point, the boy had literally every picture you had ever posted, anywhere, of yourself. In fact, he had all the pictures that other people posted of you in them. He had even gone through the effort of designing a face recognition program that picks you out of the background of total strangers’ pictures and, yeah, he had those in a file too.

· He has special file folders that compile things that you like, things you don’t like, things that make you happy, things that make you sad. He is your own personal Pinterest and you didn’t even know it… and maybe that is the part that keeps bothering him so much.

· He sits staring at that word and definition and chewing his bottom lip. True, he knows the word and the meaning, but he needed to LOOK at it, analyze it, mull it over in his guilt ridden brain.

· He just KNEW the word Stalker couldn’t apply to him.

· After all, he isn’t harassing or persecuting you, you don’t know! So, it isn’t necessarily ‘unwanted attention’. It is just…unknown attention.

· Stealthily, hmmmm, did that part apply to him? Well, He isn’t EXACTLY being stealthy.

· If you knew about technology like him, then you would probably see his programs running on your devices and be alerted to his activities. AND, if you shared his love and view of technology, then you would probably be more understanding of his activities and not consider them stealthy…just data mining. In fact, you might applaud him.

· ‘Ok, that was taking it a bit too far’, Donnie thinks to himself and he feels a band tighten and squeeze around his infatuated heart.

· He is almost certain that you would be shocked to learn of his extra curricular activities and how they revolve around every aspect of you.

· Regardless of how he tried to spin the truth and wiggle out of the definition of stalker, Donnie still felt guilty for invading your privacy. However, he honestly couldn’t help himself…at least not anymore.

· He has fought the urge, the nagging thoughts and the burning need, to know more about you for what seemed like an eternity.

· Listen to him, he is starting to sound dramatic like Mikey! What is his turning into? He is losing his rational edge!

· To be accurate, it hasn’t been an eternity. In fact, he has known you 1 year, 36 days, 14 hours, 11 minutes, and 23 seconds to be exact. However, you started occupying space in his mind 2 minutes into meeting you and your claim over his mind has grown exponentially over time.

· You were quiet and reserved during that first meeting, so there wasn’t much to go on. It started as a simple visual interest with a thought of ‘Oh. She’s pretty’.

· However, then you started talking and that changed everything.

· You opened up more and more each time you hung out with their little group, revealing layers and layers of interests and personality. You were fascinating…and that’s when his thoughts about you really started to snowball and spiral out of control.

· You went from being a simple pretty face to being a walking embodiment of everything he seriously ever dreamed of having in a mate.

· Early on, there were three sticking points that really made Donnie’s feelings problematic. 1. He was a nearly seven foot tall walking talking turtle and you weren’t. 2. You had a boyfriend that you were deeply in love with and adored. 3. Donnie was too insecure about #1 and how you felt about inter-species dating to let you know that you had started to OWN his heart.

· Now, thanks to his surveillance, there were only two sticking points….#1 and #3.

· He still remembers the feelings of that day, 44 days ago, when the blip of information popped up on this screen alerting him to the fact that your boyfriend was starting to stray.

· Donnie had severely conflicting feelings bombard him at once and it was overwhelming.

· The initial knee jerk reaction was elation, one of the problems blocking him from you may soon be null.

· However, the feeling of elation only lasted for a second or two before the intense anger and sadness set in. Donnie was honestly shocked at the depth of his anger, he didn’t even know he had that level of malice in him. Had he been in physical proximity to your boyfriend at that moment in time, Donnie isn’t sure that he wouldn’t have hurt your guy…or worse.

· How COULD this guy do this? WHY would he? He HAD YOU! What the heck was this guy thinking? Not only did he have you, but you thought the world of him. When you spoke about him you would smile so genuinely, your eyes would shine and gaze off into a bright imagined future. Donnie was always so jealous to watch it happen, he wondered what it would be like to be THAT GUY. And here the idiot was throwing it all away and meeting up with another girl!

· WHAT THE…(yes, this called for a curse) HELL…IS WRONG WITH HUMAN MEN?

· As the anger set root in his heart, the sadness engulfed Donnie like an all-consuming wave. He realized he was going to have to share this information with you, somehow, and that he was going to have to watch as it destroyed you.

· At first, Donnie had a plan to try and save you both from that fate. True, it would hurt him more to save your relationship, but he would rather be the one facing the pain and not you.

· He TRIED to circumvent the situation. He sent anonymous messages to your boyfriend stating that he knew about the infidelity and that he would tell you if needed. However, it didn’t seem like your boyfriend cared because he sent messages back stating Donnie could, basically, go fuck himself.

· Life had cruel sense of irony, thought Donnie, that is exactly what I do since this moron has the woman that I love.

· So, after trying for nearly two weeks to stop what was happening behind your back, Donnie had no choice but to let you in on the secret.

· Donnie couldn’t come right out and tell you that he caught your boyfriend cheating by hijacking your data streams and the data streams of those around you. So, Donnie intercepted some texts between your boyfriend and his mistress and he then sent you a text, under the guise of your boyfriend, telling you to meet him at a specified restaurant for a date.

· It had been a gut wrenching night for Donnie. He remembered watching it all play out on camera feeds from around the restaurant and street outside. He watched you dressed up in your pretty dress get out of your cab in front of the restaurant. You had such a lovely smile on your face, you must have thought you were in for a romantic evening.

· He watched as you walked inside and how the hostess got flustered and confused by a 2nd girl showing up for your boyfriend’s seated-for-two table.

· Donnie stopped breathing as your eyes found the new couple holding hands and giving each other sweet kisses across the table. Hands and lips that were supposed to be yours were touching some stranger.

· Donnie watched your smile and eyes die…the light of your inner sun go out…

· …and it killed him.

· He’s not sure who was crying the hardest, you standing there in that restaurant witnessing the scene or him back at the lair watching your world crush around you on his monitor.

· It had taken a while for you both to recover from that night.

· His brothers noticed his melancholy mood for a couple of weeks but Donnie wouldn’t tell them what was bothering him. And you stayed in your bed, refusing to face the world, for nearly as long.

· Eventually, the group began to notice your silence and absence, so April stopped by your apartment to check on you. She was the one to pull you out of bed, get you to shower and eat. She visited everyday and made sure you had someone to vent to and a shoulder to cry on.

· Donnie was glad that April could be there for you when he couldn’t. He didn’t think it was appropriate for him, a male, to be your confidant at that time. Especially since he felt so much guilt over having to be the one to expose you to that pain.

· No, he didn’t CAUSE the pain, but he did have to make you face it and he didn’t like not being able to protect you from it. You were such a rare, precious creature and watching you in pain felt like he was suffocating slowly.

· There were some points during those first few weeks that he questioned if he did the right thing, but logic told him it would have eventually come to pass with or without his involvement. It was better to rip the bandage of quickly and let you start to heal than it was to let you linger and drag out the inevitable.

· Donnie did secretly check on you every single night during patrol. And, of course, his surveillance feeds were always running. He watched from a distance as his beautiful phoenix burn down to ashes and, eventually, started to rise again.

· Now, it’s been over 3 months and you’ve begun to be more like your old self. Donnie can tell there is a silent sadness there, but you are able to laugh and smile with the group during your get togethers. And each time you two are left alone, his mind nags at him about those last two sticking points.

· Would you be at all interested in him? And HOW does he go about telling you that you have become the center of his world?

· Still staring at the monitor and the Stalker definition, Donnie sighs and rubs the bridge of his snout to release of the pressure now pushing against the inside of his head. The memories of what has happened, the emotions of what was and what is, it was all starting to be too much.

· “Bro, what’s all this?”, Mikey says standing behind Donnie’s chair, talking around a mouth full of pizza.

· “NOTHING!”, says Donnie, voice breaking from the stress of being caught. A startled Donnie quickly taps some keys on his keyboard and the screens revert back to the standard lair camera feeds.

· Mikey may look or even come off as naïve at times, but he’s no fool, he can sense that his older brother is trying to hide something. “Dude, seriously, what was that? I’ve been standing back here reading the screens. I saw Y/N’s name and that looked like her phone number on that other file…, you know the file that looks like texts messages. And why is there a plotted map of the area around her apartment, her work, and to the lair? What’s up?”, Mikey said giving a disapproving look at being thought a pushover.

· “Just standard surveillance, Mikey, nothing to worry about.”, Donnie says trying to placate Mikey’s curiosity. Donnie hates lying, especially to Mikey, but he’s feeling so guilty about being such a…(inward sigh)…stalking creep that admitting the truth is hard to do.

· Mikey stands there staring at Donnie and, as he does, Donnie begins to fidget with his computer chair armrests.

· Mikey stuffs the remnants of the pizza slice into his mouth and does his best Leo impersonation by crosses his arms and staring down at Donnie as sternly as his jolly face can achieve, “Dude, I’m not going to ask you again. You’ve been weird for months. We’ve let it go for the most part but now you are hiding things from me…from ME, dude! You and I, we’re like peanut butter and jelly, we’re ice cream and chocolate fudge, we young dudes have got to stick together. Trust me, bro, I’ve got you!”.

· Donnie stared at the floor, too ashamed to meet Mikey’s eyes any longer. He gave a heavy sigh and reluctantly started to speak, “Sorry Mike, I…I honestly don’t know what’s come over me lately. I’m doing things I never thought I would do, I’m feeling so guilty about it, but I don’t know if I can stop doing it either. I feel…lost.”.

· Mike relaxed his leader stance and leaned against one of Donnie’s lab tables, “Bro, I can tell you’ve been carrying some heavy stuff lately. You need to let it out.”

· Donnie felt the heat rise up through his body like he was suddenly being consumed by a fire and he ripped his glasses off his face and drew them down on the desk in frustration, “Mikey, I’m in love with Y/N. I have been for a while. I have been…”, Donnie hangs his head in shame, “…tracking all her digital foot prints and watching her. In fact, I’m the reason she found out that asshole boyfriend of her's cheated.”

· Mikey’s mouth drops open at Donnie’s demeanor and use of the word ‘asshole’, “Whoa, dude, why didn’t you say something earlier?”.

· Donnie can feel a stinging at the corners of his eyes, this was so embarrassing, so frustrating, so…..so many things at a once. He didn’t have a response for Mikey, all he could do was shake his head.

· Still with his head hung down and staring at the floor, Donnie starts to hear Mikey chuckle. Donnie looks up to see Mikey’s eyes on him and for some reason they are full of merriment at his painful dilemma. Donnie stares at his, normally, very considerate brother in astonishment, this isn’t like Mikey at all!

· “Mikey, I’m more than serious here, now is not the time to make fun of me. What is so funny?”, Donnie asks exasperatedly.

· Mikey shakes his bald head and claps his brother on the shoulder with his green hand, “Bro, she thinks you’re cute.”.

· “W-What?!”, Donnie stammers out.

· Mikey, still chuckling, says, “Yeah, dude, that’s why I asked WHY you didn’t say something about liking her sooner, she’s always thought you were cute. She and I talk about it all the time.”.

· Donnie just stares at his jolly brother in silence. His mind is too blown to form a sentence.

· Mikey turns to leave stating, “And by the way, dude, stop watching her like that…that’s just creepy.”.

@turtle-babe83 @tmntspidergirl @kokokatsworld @nittleboo @the-second-circle-of-shell

[oitommothetease]

Long Story Short (3/3)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader (Modern AU)

Description : 

Long story short, it was the wrong guy Now I'm all about you I'm all about you

Word Count : 2.2k words

Warning : fluff, ex Steve, Bucky Barnes my beloved, Just Bucky being an amazing partner

Bucky Barnes does not do relationships. Well, to put it in better words; Bucky Barnes did not do relationships until he met you. As a marriage counselor, he had advised many couples to just get a divorce, and even though he had saved a lot of marriages, the bad ones always hurt him more. To be the person to witness unhappy couples was not the best profession. But again, to be the person to save a marriage or bring back the lost love made his profession the best in his mind.

He did not have hope for a future relationship. He tried dating, it did not work out, and then he became the man who always left after the night and never stayed over. Not only that, but he thought his life would remain the same, and he would become a miserable 60 years old that hated lovesick teenagers and would die in his bed alone.

Bucky’s life changed when he met you on the flight. You, with your obvious shittier life, changed everything for him that weekend. And that was two years ago.

He fell in love and that changed it all, things just started falling into place perfectly like a domino effect going smoothly. He called you the moment you landed and asked you out. Likewise, he was scared that what happened back in his hometown was some sort of escape for you. Luckily, it wasn’t, you said yes and he was ecstatic. 

The date went splendidly, you talked about everything from your careers to your embarrassing high school moments that still sometimes haunt you at night. He told you about his family and he came clean about what went down with Dot (She wanted a relationship, he didn’t and then he bolted). It scared you, Bucky was so different, you’ve never been with someone who didn’t plan everything out, but it was exciting nonetheless. He assured you that he wanted a relationship with you because and let's be honest, he was already very smitten.

He thought that was the best weekend of his life. You proved him wrong, every day with you was the best day of his life.

“This is technically our third date,” you suggested.

He gasped, dramatically placing his hand on his chest. “This is our first date to me and you’re already trying to get in my pants. Give me some respect, lady.”

You laughed, shoving a hand on his arm playfully, and he held your wrist, bringing your body closer to his. He wrapped his other hand around your waist and leaned down to leave a longing kiss on your lips. “ As much as I would love to stay the night. I wanna do right by you, doll.”

You smiled and leaned in for another kiss, foreheads pressed together, before you jokingly said, “FYI, I have already been in your pants before.”

That was the moment Bucky knew you were the one for him. 

***

Alpine fell in love with Bucky quicker than you could. On the fourth date when Bucky finally let you take him home, Alpine came from her hideout in the kitchen and sat on his feet. Alpine never did that with anyone, your friends had told you that you had the most hostile cat ever. Whenever a new person entered your apartment, Alpine either ignored them or attacked them, but with Bucky, she was affectionate.

For you, it wasn’t one moment that made you realize you were in love. Unlike Bucky, you had a lot of issues to deal with before you could give yourself completely to him.

Bucky never judged you, he gave you the time you needed and never pushed you when he was ready to acknowledge he loved you. 

Of course, the insecurities were also present, you’d have urges to go throw his phone or stalk everyone he follows on Instagram. You told Bucky, hoping he doesn’t call you crazy, but instead he gave you his phone’s password. Yes, now your face could unlock his phone too. He told you he trusted you, and you were it for him so if that’s what you needed to be sure, he would happily oblige and wait for you.

It took you six months to finally acknowledge your love for him.

When you were working on a divorce case, the wife told you that when her husband walked into a room, she didn’t feel anything. You got lost in her story and told her how when your boyfriend, your Bucky was nearby you felt calm, lighter even. She smiled and told you she would like to have a love like that. And your mind just went, ‘Holy shit, I am in love with Bucky’. After wrapping up for the day, you immediately rushed towards Bucky’s office, you couldn’t wait to tell him about your recent discovery.

You sat across from him at his office, anxiously fiddling with your finger. “Bucky, I need to tell you something important.”

He looked up from the file on his table and closed it before giving you all of his attention. He always did that which made butterflies erupt in your stomach. “Go ahead, doll. I’m all ears.”

 “I... I need to tell you something important.”

He nodded his head, encouraging you to go ahead.

You exhaled and said, “I don’t know how to tell you this.”

Bucky studied your features, concern quickly replaced intrigue. This is it, he thought. You’ve realized that he was a rebound and now you were breaking up with him.

“Are you breaking up with me?”

 “I love you.”

You both said at the same time.

“What?” you queried, standing up from your seat and moving towards his chair.

You settled on his lap, cradling him, one of his hands rested on your thigh and the other on your lower back, holding you still on his legs. “What?” 

“I love you,” you confessed, taking his cheeks in your palms and you gently pressed a kiss on his lips.

“Say that again,” a grin spread across his face, the corner of his lips almost reached his ears.

“I love you,” you said, beaming with adoration in your eyes.

“God, doll. I love you so much.”

***

After dating for a year, you decided to move in together. Every day with you had been the happiest day of Bucky’s life. It had been exactly two years since you met Bucky and he was so head over heels for you that sometimes he couldn’t even voice it. Maybe that is why he had a velvet box in his pocket, so that he could express his love for you without gathering the courage to say it.

Both of you decided that for your second anniversary, you were going to have dinner in your shared apartment that you made home. You planned to order take out with movies followed by lovemaking, whereas Bucky planned to make you his fiancé by the end of the night - which was also followed by intense lovemaking.

While on his way home, he stopped to pick up your favorite flavor of the cake. His phone vibrated in his pocket and he quickly picked it up without checking who it was.

“Hey, pal,” Steve’s voice greeted him, taking him by surprise. Bucky hadn’t talked to his best mate since - well, since he found out what he did to you. Bucky was furious that he hurt you like that and made you doubt yourself. The selfish part of Bucky was thankful, not for hurting you, but for leaving you because Bucky couldn’t imagine a life without you. And hopefully, after the proposal, he wouldn’t have to.

“Steve,” Bucky said. A silence lingered where both of them could hear the other breathing, but none of them knew what to say, if anything was even left to say. Both of them broke the silence together at the same time.

“Peggy and I are getting a divorce.”

 “I’m going to propose to Y/N.”

 “You what?” Steve asked.

“No, you what?” Bucky countered.

Steve exhaled through the device connecting two old pals and spoke, “Yeah, we tried, but it just didn’t work out. I don’t even know why I went back after the first time. I lost so much by just doing that.”

Both of them were aware of what he was talking about; you. Steve lost you from falling into old patterns with his ex-wife. Steve regretted it. Peggy’s pregnancy wasn’t planned and when she told him, he tied down the knot for the sake of his future family. It took Steve two months to realize that he loved you and not his wife. He didn’t contact you, you asked him not to. The only reason he invited you to his wife’s baby shower was so that he could win you back. He hoped seeing him would make you want him again, but when you walked in with his best friend’s hand in yours, he didn’t know how to react. He had lost you to Bucky of all people and he hated his mate for this, for taking away the best thing in his life. 

“Are you sure about her?” Steve questioned, hoping to raise some doubts and second thoughts in his best pal’s mind. He knew that was wrong, but he desperately wanted you back. 

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” Bucky answered dreamily and Steve could feel his heart crack.

Steve should have stopped, he shouldn’t have relented but Steve wasn’t a good man like you thought he was. Good men don’t cheat on women, good men aren’t selfish. “It's gonna change everything between us, pal. Is she worth it?”

 “Yes.”

Bucky didn’t hesitate in his answer and hung up the phone instantly. He realized quickly that anything that separated him from you or even tried to was not going to be in his life. Bucky was a possessive man and he would die rather than give up his two best girls, you and Alpine.

***

When Bucky came back, you didn’t expect him to kiss you so feverishly, as if he let you go, he’d lose you. He would never lose you, that you were sure of.

Your anniversary went down as you planned. Eating pizza and talking while the movie became a background noise was peaceful, domestic and everything else you desired. You could spend the rest of your life like this. Just you and him — and Alpine, obviously. 

Bucky was hiding something that much you could feel. You both always knew when something was up with the other. A tiny part of your brain panicked that maybe Bucky was cheating on you. He wasn’t; there were no signs, but your brain always mustered up the worst condition as a defense mechanism.

So, when Bucky got down on one knee with a ring in his hand as you were bringing the cake from the kitchen, tears welled up in your eyes. Bucky gently took the cake from you and placed it on your dining table before getting a hold of your hands in his.

“Doll,” he started, and tears were already starting to stream down your face. “ I love you so much that it physically hurts me sometimes. I never thought I would be fortunate enough to be happy, but God, you make me so happy and I can’t even…”

A lump formed in his throat and he tried again, “I had this whole speech planned and now I can’t even get a sentence out without crying. They make it look so easy in those rom coms.”

You chucked, stifling a sob that was threatening to break out. ” Nothing about us has been conventional. I mean, from the way we met to the way I’m proposing, but that is what I like about us. You are already my home, my family, my everything and I would like you to be my wife too. So, Y/N Y/L/N, would you make me the happiest man alive by marrying me? ” 

“Yes! God, yes, Bucky.” you beamed, holding his palm tightly, supporting him to stand up. He situated the ring on your finger before claiming your lips in his. He kissed you with so much passion and adoration that you felt that even if the earth swallowed you whole at that moment, you still wouldn’t mind. You’ll be glad because you got the opportunity to know and love a man like Bucky. 

After the very anticipated and passionate lovemaking, you settled your head on Bucky’s chest, limbs tangled together, and his arms wrapped around you, igniting you with warmth and love, so much love.

“Alpine is gonna get mad that I took her man,” you remembered, repeating the words you said all those years ago in a hotel room. You did not know where it was going then but God, you wanted it to go somewhere. Somewhere like this, engaged to him.

Bucky chuckled, reminiscing that night and weekend before pulling you closer, placing a kiss on top of your head and promised, “Alpine is not the love of my life, my future wife, my everything, doll. You are.”

TAGS : @ladydmalfoy​ @niffala​  @vicmc624​ @leyannrae​ @priii​