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meiieiri · 6 months

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𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐩 [toji fushiguro]

synopsis: toji will never forget the first night he spent away from the zenin clan and the day he met you.

pairing: toji fushiguro x f!reader | song inspo: saw you in a dream, timeless | hidden inventory: the lost tapes series masterlist

warnings: mentions of emotional abuse but generally pretty much a fluff fic where toji and y/n meet for the first time. | a/n: finally launching my little love project called “hidden inventory: the lost tapes”! 🍒

Now isn’t this just perfect?

Toji’s is just one inconvenience away from just going back to the Zenin clan with his tail between his legs. First, he underestimates just how expensive living in Tokyo is so, with what little pocket money his emotionally distant mother gave him before he left the estate, the first thing he does is spend it all on a girl — in broad daylight — he’s heard his brother, Jinichi, talk about those cute little call girls that crawl the streets of Kabukichō with flyers in their hand for thirty-minute “massages”. Naturally, as a young man who is only first experiencing the carnal joys the city has to offer, Toji was curious and he took the bait.

A bait that cost him ¥30,000 and the girl was unfortunately sloppy at best.

Now, he doesn’t have money to buy so much as a soggy red bean pancake for dinner. He doesn’t know how long he’s been walking around this dingy part of Shinjuku but as long as the red light district’s trashy ambience is distracting him from the growling of his stomach, then, he’ll stumble around this hellhole until morning.

“Ha! You won’t even last two minutes out there!” That’s what Naobito Zenin, the head of the clan said to him when he left. “Only two things await you when you get out of here, either you’ll die hungry or a cursed spirit will get to you first — either way, you’ll die with your eyes wide open with no one!”

Overrun by his thoughts, Toji doesn’t even notice that he accidentally intruded on a random cockroach and curse-infested alleyway that apparently belonged to some junkie who is now angrily telling him to get lost. “I was just looking for a place to sit down,” Toji scoffs. Weren’t they both bottom feeders in this city? Why was this rancid-smelling meth addict acting like he’s any better than him?

“Well, go sit somewhere else, this place is off-limits!”

It was almost funny how Toji thought that the world beyond the gates of the Zenin estate was any better than the shit show he was born into.

He should have known better than to be enticed by the glitz and glamour of living independently from his abusive family who at least had the decency to feed him maggoty rice from the estate’s second storehouse dedicated to prepare the animals’ food. They also gave him shelter, of course, he’s had to live in the Zenin estate’s shed for a while now since his father discovered he was born useless without an ounce of cursed energy. But at least he was warm, and the termites made him feel less lonely.

He continues on in his aimless quest. The night is still young. There’s plenty of time for self-depreciating introspection.

Hopefully, that grade three cursed spirit that’s been following him around the block for a while now gets to him first before the rain does.

“That guy over there,” your coworker whispers to you from the cash registers. “He’s been there for a while now and he hasn’t ordered anything.”

You look up from your pocketbook, your eyes curiously trained on the rugged looking man whose eyes were downcast, trained on the service water he requested from the counter when he came in. As if he could feel a pair of eyes on him, he looks up, and glances your way for a bit but you quickly hide your face behind your book.

“He kinda looks like trouble, no? Shady too, just look at the scar on his lip…”

“It’s not fair to judge someone like that, Rika-chan,” you whispered to your junior, turning to arrange the menus, painstakingly wiping each one clean with a cloth dampened with sanitizer. A small smirk appears on Toji’s lips at your passive defense of his character and as if to goad you on, he drums his fingertips against the table daring you to say another word. “Anyway, I’ll handle closing the shop tonight. You need to get home since you have class in a few hours.”

That seemed sudden. Rika looks at you funnily before shrugging off her apron in favor of her raincoat. “Well, alright, if you insist. Should I clean up the kitchen at least?”

“I’ll handle it,” you give her a thumbs up, waving her goodbye as she leaves through the backdoor. Now that you’re alone, you could hardly stop yourself from glancing at the mysterious man, and Toji himself wonders if his presence here is starting to turn into a nuisance. You were probably waiting for him to step out so you could close shop for the night but it’s raining hard right now and there are no other places open nearby to take shelter in.

The chair’s feet screeches against the wooden floorboards and you head to the restaurant’s kitchen. Toji stares at your retreating form, looks like he overstayed his welcome. He searches around for a few coins to give to you for your hospitality, of course, it probably doesn’t mean jack shit, but you must have known he didn’t have enough money for a meal when he came in here. You would have realized that immediately. But you allowed him to stay regardless.

You return a couple of minutes later with a bowl miso soup with ginger pork gyoza and shredded cabbages. You set the bowl down in front of him and Toji is thoroughly taken aback, he looks at you dumbfounded. “I don’t have any money,” his voice comes out a little gruffly but you barely flinch at the sharp edge of his tone.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Refilling his water, you explained that while you could have easily stuffed those leftovers back in the freezer, customers wouldn’t want to eat frozen food, so, you decide to heat these items up to give to him instead. “Oh,” Toji answers a little dumbly. “Or you could have thrown them out.” He stares at the sumptuous meal in front of him. Even in the Zenin estate, he never had such good food laid out in front of him before and it was surreal to see a stranger do the things his family should have done for him.

You return to the counter, leaning on your forearms as you engage in light banter with him. “You’re saying I should feed rats over people?” you chuckled, sitting back down, smiling softly when Toji gingerly bringing the bowl of miso soup to his lips, the rich earthy broth warming his throat that he lets out a content sigh.

He smirks at your little remark. “I’m saying you shouldn’t make a habit of feeding strays.” He polishes his soup bowl clean within minutes and you have to remind him to slow down every now and then as you watched him eat ravenously. “You never know when you could get that dainty hand of yours bitten off.”

You blushed pink at that. He was right, being too generous could cost you dearly one day but being the altruistic soul that you are, you’ll probably continue to be graciously selfless despite the risk of being taken advantage of. It’s just how you are as a person who believes that a little kindness can make the world better than it was yesterday. “I…don’t really know about that…whether I get bitten or not by the people I help isn’t really something I can control. The world would be better off if people just learned to be kind to one another.”

Toji hums at your naive countenance, folding his arms over the table. The room is silent for a few minutes save for the occasional rumble of thunder in the distance. “You’re kinda dumb, aren’t ya?”

“And you’re a pessimist,” you answered, quirking an amused eyebrow at him. “Who doesn’t even know how to say thank you.” You stand up to clear out the table, a teasing glint in your eyes as your curious orbs collide.

Toji scoffs, leaning against his seat, crossing his legs. At his reluctance, you shake your head, giggling softly. What an infuriating interesting guy. Toji hears the rushing of tap water from behind the counter and he smiles inwardly. The rain begins to slowly stop and he takes this window of opportunity to leave.

You don’t even try to hide your disappointment when you come back to the dining room only to find it empty, the stranger having left nothing in his wake — not a goodbye, not a thank you, and certainly not his name — except a single rusty five yen coin on the table.

Clang-dong!

“Hello, welcome—“ You stop mid-sentence. Your throat constricting with a mix of emotions, the most dominant one being joy at this happy chance, you’d recognize those sharp dark green eyes anywhere despite only first seeing them a week ago. After all, they looked so dangerously beautiful under the dim light of the dining room’s ceiling lampshade. “—back. Welcome back,” you smiled brightly at Toji.

Toji nods, his hand coming up to cover his lips as he coughs once. “Thanks…ah, right — shit, where is it?” After rummaging around his parachute jacket’s many pockets, he finally takes out his wallet and you look at him, bewildered, when he hands a few hundred yen bills to you. “For last week. Sorry I couldn’t pay you back then.”

“It’s fine.” You take his larger, calloused hand and return the money which Toji responds to by stubbornly placing it on the table.

Toji pinches the bridge of his nose when you playfully return the gesture by rolling it up and placing it in his jacket pocket, buttoning it. “Look, it was real nice of you to treat me back then, but I’m not a charity case, alright? I just wanna pay my dues.”

“Then, a simple ‘thank you’ is enough.” Toji just couldn’t understand you. You have absolutely no reason to be nice to him, but you are. For a moment, he begins to fall into the enticing thought that maybe life outside the Zenin estate won’t be too bad after all if there are people like you still around just waiting at random corners to be found in joyful happenstances such as waiting out a storm at a random family-style restaurant over a heartwarming serving of miso soup with tender pieces of gyoza and cabbage.

Relenting, he smirks at you, unable to figure you out. “Thank you.”

“Anyway, need a table for lunch?” you smiled warmly at him as you lead him to the table he sat in a week ago which you now affectionately refer to as ‘his’ table instead of table number four.

Toji nods following your lead and chuckling when you hand him the menu. “Where’s that thing I had last time?“ he oddly flips through the booklet.

“Oh uh…it’s not on the menu actually, but I could make that for you if you’d like.”

“Sounds good.” Toji hands you back the menu. You are just about to scurry away to the kitchen when he calls out to you. “So, do you have a name or should I just keep referring to you as gyoza girl or something?” Embarrassed at the way your knees seem to become weak at his boyish grin, you have to take a few deep breaths before turning around to face him again. “I’m Toji.”

He doesn’t say his last name. He doesn’t feel the need to anymore now that he’s finally closing the door to his past. You nod, noting how the name suited him. It’s brief but strong, muted but loud in its rhythm. Toji. At that moment, you find it impossible to name a prettier sound. After a few excruciating minutes in the kitchen, you come back out with two bowls of miso soup this time around and you sit down on the chair directly in front of him.

“Y/N.”

Toji repeats the melody of your name in his head. “And how much do I owe ya for this, Y/N?”

You shrugged as the two of you dig in, your hand coming up to cover your mouth as you chew the steamed gyoza, joining him as he laughs (well, he’s scoffing more than actually laughing, really), his eyes alight with wonder, when you simply say, “Five yen.”

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peacerisendove · 1 year

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Trying to figure out why I only like zuko's redemption and can't stand other character redemptions.

[Figured it out in my tags]

#i love when i figure out the answer to my own question before I'm even finished asking it #It's because Zuko's redemption opens up his character to possibilities. Zuko is also not a villain by choice unlike other characters I like #. *villain/antagonist (i might stick with my original word choice. currently unsure)#Redemptions of characters who are villains are seemingly used to sanitize their character and make them more palatable. In contrast Zuko's #redemption provokes growth in him.#He is not sanitized. His past actions are not swept under the rug. His redemption invokes the idea of growing past his past actions and #learning from them.#My issue Redemption AUs and the associated immediacy of the redemption of a villain character that tends to come with an AU #feels in some cases to skip over an active progression and reasoning of why a character would change (and the execution in a believable way #) ((yes I am the fun police i'm sorry but I like things to make sense with regard to character motivation. I can't enjoy the AU in full if #it does make sense for the character because I am a character focused individual))#But anyway it's predominantly the sanitizing of villain characters/the sense of immediacy/and lack of growth in general or #does not show the in between moment for the character as they shift #or move from being a villain to progressing from that.#Dove rants about Redemption Arcs

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daycourtofficial · 10 days

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How the kingdom lights shined just for me and you

Pairing: Eris x Rhysand’s sister!reader | WC: 3.2k | warnings: depictions of violence

Summary: Eris tells his sons a story, letting them know how a strong knight defeated an evil dragon and saved the kingdom.

Note: this is a part of my gingerfucker series and mentions events that are detailed in ‘Cold was the steel of my axe to grind’. This is also anplay on the ‘retellings’ prompt for today - thought it’d be fun to have Eris sanitize how Beron died as a fairytale story @erisweekofficial

“Fairy tales do not tell children the dragons exist. Children already know that dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children the dragons can be killed.” - G.K. Chesterton

The sound of wood clashing rang through the room before being immediately followed by a trio of giggles. Eris stood outside the door, arms crossed debating what to do, listening as the children inside pretended to be knights defeating an evil king. Or was it a dragon they were fighting and they were Peregryn warriors? It was impossible to keep track of Atlas, Nyx, and Leif’s antics. Their interests changed so quickly, it was impossible to keep track of what was the thing to be during their playtimes.

Their games of make believe often took elements of Eris’s life and formed a hodgepodge of stories where most of the time they are brave warriors seeking to defend their lands.

The boys enjoyed it. Eris’s back didn’t whenever he was deemed the bad guy, their small swords leaving bruises that seemed to last for a week.

Early fights between the boys had led to many tears - they all wanted to be the hero, the good guy. They did not know the males their fathers had been before, the males who had done unspeakable things to survive.

Before he could make the decision himself, Leif had made it for him by appearing in the door way and holding onto Eris’s trouser leg. Eris ran his fingers through Leif’s red locks, forcing his son to look up at him.

Leif was incredibly sensitive - an empath like his mother, Leif often became overwhelmed incredibly quickly. Fat tears would begin rolling down his cheeks before anyone could realize what went wrong. Nyx and Atlas, both a few years older than Leif, often became too rambunctious for the smallest Vanserra.

But Leif’s eyes were bright and full of joy, not a hint of upset on his small face.

You and the Archerons had gone to spend the evening in a cabin a few miles away. You weren’t far from the Forest House or from Eris’s mind, but you insisted you needed a weekend before this next babe came to be yourself. Three kids under five was going to be a lot and the two of you wanted to soak up every moment possible before having a newborn again.

Unfortunately, Leif took the separation from his mother much harder than Atlas did, but seemed to be doing surprisingly well. Eris crouched down, getting down to Leif’s level to ask, “are you alright?”

The small boy nodded before a yawn escaped his mouth, betraying his real feelings.

“Are you tired?”

Leif’s nod at that question was more pitiful, as if a full nod were too taxing for the small boy. Eris opened his arms, allowing Leif to wrap his arms around Eris’s neck before he stood back up, walking into the playroom, finding it impossible to find the floor from the toys scattered across it. He got peeks at the green rug beneath, but various plushies and toy armor littered the floor hiding it.

Eris whistled, the two whirlwinds slowing down enough to take form as small boys, their swords going lax at their sides.

“Is this a playroom or a graveyard for lost toys for all of Prythian?”

The two looked to each other as they fell into a mess of giggles, the cousins looking completely unrelated. Atlas so far had inherited no features from his mother, the little boy pale and freckly much like his father, his cheeks often pink from how hot he ran.

Nyx on the other hand was quite tan, a byproduct of the time he spent in the sun this summer. His small wings fluttered in excitement, not quite strong enough to launch him from the ground but enough to produce a decent wind.

Eris had gotten all three of them washed up an hour ago, allowing them to work out the last of their energy in the playroom where he knew they wouldn’t get dirty again. He figured Lucien had crept off to his own rooms to change, his clothes dripping with water after Atlas snuck his hound, Pumpkin, into their bath and Lucien had to chase down the wet beast.

Eris was so amused at the sight he didn’t tell his brother he could simply call for the dog, instead letting him slip and slide across the floors in an attempt to get to him.

The boys stood in their pajamas, all looking up at Eris. He moved his head toward the door, motioning for Atlas and Nyx to follow him.

“Come on. Time for bed.”

The two small boys groaned, but Leif merely nuzzled into Eris’s neck as he carried him into the room down the hall.

Despite the size of the Forest House, Atlas and Leif did much better when sharing a room. The two had been kept separate when Leif was born, until Leif was around eight months old and Atlas woke up just about every night and dragged Leif into his bedroom.

Most mornings Eris found Leif in Pumpkin’s dog bed in the corner of Atlas’s room, curled up with his older brother, Pumpkin sleeping peacefully on his son’s bed.

The first morning it happened caused Eris to spiral. Finding Leif’s crib empty sent him on a hunt throughout the house, waking up everybody in the process until he went to check on Atlas, finding the small babe in his brother’s arms.

It has been several years and the boys fight on occasion, but overall are quite happy to share a room. For tonight they get to have Nyx share their room too.

To prepare for their cousin, the boys grabbed their mattresses, pushing them together on the floor and putting pillows and blankets all over the floor so all three of them could lay together.

Nyx’s wings were still quite small - not big enough to support his weight, they barely stuck out around his shoulders. The sight of Nyx’s wings still sent a twinge of guilt through Eris.

It had been centuries since your wings were taken from you, but Eris still remembers the venom he had spat at you right before you lost them and how incredibly small you looked when Tamlin had showed up with you, your back a bloody mess.

You had made peace with it long ago, but every so often whenever he finds himself with an Illyrian nearby, he wishes you could have those wings back, even if for just a moment. To watch you glide in the air, the winds of Autumn that had pushed him so far holding you up.

Eris lit the candles in the room, dusk casting the room in darkness. Leif’s fingers gripped his collar tighter as he crouched down, failing to put him on the floor.

“Can you tell us a story?”

Atlas perked up at Leif’s sleepy voice, practically vibrating in excitement. “The one with the dragon, please daddy?”

Atlas clutched his hands together in pleading, bouncing up as Eris agreed. He knew what Leif’s question was for - the small boy didn’t want to be set down yet, too content in his father’s arms to be left alone. If only Beron were alive to watch him cave to the demands of toddlers - his heart would stop beating in anger.

Eris stood back up, all attempts of removing Leif forgotten as he moved to the rocking chair in the corner, sitting with Leif curled up to his chest just like he had done hundreds of times before. Atlas and Nyx followed, sitting right in front of Eris on the mattresses that lay across the floor. He rocked for a moment - both to gather his bearings, deciding where to start the story, and because the anticipation killed the little boys before him.

“A long, long time ago, there once lived a knight.”

“What’s his name?”

Atlas was quick to shush his cousin, annoyed at his interruption no matter how many times he had heard the story. Leif began tapping on Eris’s chest, wanting him to keep talking, the sound of his voice soothing.

“We’ll just call him the knight. The knight lived a long time ago in a kingdom that doesn’t exist anymore.”

“Why not?”

Eris had no idea where Nyx’s inquisitive nature came from - his father certainly didn’t look too hard at the world outside of his dim perspective. The boy probably spent too much time with Azriel - anytime the spymaster was seen by either of his kids, they both ran rampant with questions of “why” and “how”, partly because Azriel would answer every single one of their questions, and because in their presence, he would also ask why and how and who questions.

“You’ll find out.”

Nyx opened his mouth, but Atlas moved his hand over his cousin’s mouth. “Stop.”

Eris continued with his story. “The knight lived in a land ruled by an evil dragon. He breathed fire at anyone who dared try to overthrow him.”

Nyx’s eyes grew large, excitement filling them as Eris pretended to breathe out fire.

“He was a big, nasty beast. His fangs are the size of a door. He had big red scales that covered his entire body, shielding him.”

Maybe he began embellishing these stories a bit.

“The handsome knight-”

“When’d he become handsome?”

Atlas slapped his hand onto his forehead in aggravation and Eris had to bite his tongue from laughing. The little boy hardly ever stopped talking and to watch his frustrations at his cousin doing the same was very amusing.

“He was always handsome.”

Eris had slowly been telling Atlas and Leif stories of his life in a much more palatable manner. Replacing their grandfather with a dragon, making Amarantha a dragon, making Rhys an evil king who hated him. He’d never admit it to anyone, but it was quite fun.

In one story he made Lucien a donkey just because it amused him. Lucien had been less than thrilled at his fictional depictions, even going so far as to try to tell his own stories to the boys. They didn’t like Lucien’s storytelling, so much so they begged him not to tell any stories.

“The incredibly good looking knight decided he needed to make a plan to kill the dragon,” giggles accompanied his words. “The knight had one issue: he was in love with a princess from a different kingdom.”

Leif gasped as if this were a new story to him - he enjoyed all aspects of Eris’s stories, but Leif was always happiest to hear about the princess. Whether or not Leif knew the princess was his mother, Eris wasn’t sure.

“And her king wouldn’t let her live in the kingdom of the dragon.”

“Why not?”

“Because dragons love the taste of princesses!” Nyx shrieked a little, and for good measure he added, “and the taste of little boys.”

Eris enjoyed riling his brothers up when they were young - one of the traits the centuries haven’t worn down. Once they both stopped screaming, Eris continued his story.

“So, the knight began planning with the other knights of the kingdom. They spent months making a plan to get rid of the dragon. He was killing their crops, even eating some of the people, and hoarding all of the kingdom’s gold. No one had any money or food. They devised a plan and set a date to take down the dragon. On the night before, the knight slipped away to see his princess one last time, to catch a glimpse of her before going to battle.

“She was as beautiful as he remembered, their last meeting was months ago and he thought of it often. Her king didn’t approve of their relationship, but they met secretly without him knowing. She invited him up into her chambers, where he told her the plans for the next day. He wanted to say goodbye, wanted to see her one last time. He gave her a kiss farewell-” giggles filled the room. “And then the knight left once more. It was the hardest thing for him to do.”

“What was?”

“Saying goodbye to his princess.”

The boys were enraptured in the story, paying close attention to every word from Eris.

“Why?”

Atlas didn’t admonish Nyx for his question, wanting to know the answer himself.

“Because he loved her very much.”

He rubbed Leif’s back softly, rocking the chair gently as he continued.

“The knight left the princess’s tower, heading to find a secret weapon.” Nyx’s wings fluttered, the wind brushing over Eris and Leif. “He walked through the kingdom to find a special, magical sword. It had been hidden centuries before, waiting for the rightful person to come find it.”

Atlas pretended to wave a sword in his hand, making sounds that somewhat resembles clashing as he and Nyx pretended to be fighting with swords.

“The knight rode in on his horse, meeting the other knights as they rode in and fought the dragon head on.”

“Did the horses fight?”

“No, they stayed far away as the knights used their swords to pierce and stab the dragon over and over again, but he remained unharmed.”

Atlas and Nyx began acting out the story, Atlas grabbing a pillow and pretending it was the dragon.

“The dragon paid special attention to our knight, his teeth sharp as he kept scratching and biting the knight. He was injured, but he kept fighting on with his magical sword. The dragon hit him with his tail, causing the sword to go flying through the air.”

Eris’s voice rose and fell with the story, his words glossing over the atrocities of the day. He could not figure out a nice way to add in how their mother poisoned at minimum twenty-five of Beron’s closest advisors.

Their mouths were wide open now, desperate to know how the tale ends, Nyx allowing his inquisitive nature to take a backseat to Eris’s storytelling.

“The knight thought it would be over as the dragon snarled at him, opening his mouth so the knight could see his big, nasty teeth. He could even see some of the spinach he had eaten for dinner.”

The boys erupted in giggles, softs echoes of “ewwwww” littered the room.

“The knight had accepted his fate. He knew it was over, and all he could think about was how grateful he was he got to see his princess one last time. He had closed his eyes, preparing to die, but the dragon stopped breathing his nasty breath in the knight’s face.

“The dragon had turned, only to find one of the other knights, Sir Flint, had come from behind. He had picked up the magical sword and slashed the dragon’s neck!”

Tiny gasps came from his audience, but he continued to his favorite part of the story.

“Blood poured out of the dragon as he fell, his big body making a big thunk as he fell. Some say it even caused an earthquake because he was so heavy.”

Eris couldn’t tell them about the extent of Flint’s sacrifice - not yet anyway. But he would make sure they knew his name, even if he were merely a fairytale hero.

“Once the dragon was slain, the knight removed his armor to show that he was secretly a prince the whole time!”

The boys screeched in excitement, jumping up and searching for their swords to start fighting again, disappointed to remember they were left in the playroom. Once they settled back down, Eris continued.

“The other knights gave the prince a crown, making him king of the kingdom. His first act was to go find his princess and bring her to his kingdom, making her the queen.

“The end. Now, I think it’s time for bed.”

The boys groaned in protest, but complied. Grabbing their blankets and settling onto the beds all over the floor. Atlas and Nyx nestled in, hiding themselves amongst the blankets and pillows. Eris stood, Leif’s body having grown heavy with sleep, his steps careful to navigate the various pillows, trying to find a spot for his son.

Leif groaned at the stirring, but Eris was quick to hum softly, soothing something in Leif.

“What happened to the prince?” Nyx’s wings fluttered with anticipation, the blankets moving with his joy, wanting to know what happened to such a brave male.

Eris leaned in conspiratorially, the boys leaning into him as if he were going to tell them a secret.

“His kingdom is long gone, but he’s still alive. He wanders the lands of Prythian. He was last seen in Winter a few years ago. They say he hunts for little boys who stay up past their bedtimes.”

Their small shrieks made Eris want to laugh, but he kept a straight face despite himself. He looked to Leif, his youngest son much more susceptible to these tall tales, only to find him asleep once more. His eyes were closed, his round cheeks pressed into his chest making the freckles on his face scrunch together.

Atlas and Nyx had quickly thrown the blankets over themselves, their voices quiet telling the other to stop talking. He was able to find a spot for Leif next to Atlas, gently moving his head to a new pillow, draping a blanket over him.

“Good night.”

They echoed his sentiment, their voices muffled through the fabric of their blankets. Eris shut the door behind himself, listening to the two cousins bicker back and forth, their voices getting quieter as the dark lulled them to sleep. He started walking down the hallway, only to find Lucien walking his way. His brother changed his stride to walk with Eris, following him through the halls.

Eris and Lucien had agreed to keep the kids for the first night you were gone, and Rhysand would pick them up in the morning and keep them all day and night. His brother in law had been incredibly confident he could handle the three boys on his own, perhaps from some well-placed snark from Eris at how his one child was much different from two, let alone a third.

Eris didn’t have to manipulate people anymore, he could live as he wished to, showing whatever image of himself he wanted. But he’d be damned if he ever stopped tricking the High Lord of the Night Court for his own amusement.

“I was thinking about tomorrow.”

Eris hummed as Lucien spoke, the two moving toward Eris’s sitting room, both in desperate need of alcohol and to not have someone clinging to them.

“I heard from Nesta that Rhys was so smug he could handle the three boys by himself that Azriel and Cassian are going to some sporting event.”

“Hm, wonder where he’d get such ridiculous notions of himself, as if he had something to prove.”

Lucien’s laugh was barking, but he continued. “I think we should give the kids a bunch of sugar before they go to Night. It’ll drive Rhysand up a wall. He may never want to see your kids again, though.”

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @berryzxx @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @milswrites @the-golden-jhope @hannzoaks @secretlyhers @tothestarsandwhateverend @sarawritestories @chxosangxl

Eris taglist: @magicstrengthandcourage @book-obsessed124

Thanks for reading❣️

#gingerfucker #acotar fanfiction #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra x y/n #eris x reader #eris x y/n #eris x you

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mostlysignssomeportents · 11 months

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Deb Chachra's "How Infrastructure Works": Mutual aid, the built environment, the climate, and a future of comfort and abundance

This Thursday (Oct 19), I'm in Charleston, WV to give the 41st annual McCreight Lecture in the Humanities. And on Friday (Oct 20), I'm at Charleston's Taylor Books from 12h-14h.

Engineering professor and materials scientist Deb Chachra's new book How Infrastructure Works is a hopeful, lyrical – even beautiful – hymn to the systems of mutual aid we embed in our material world, from sewers to roads to the power grid. It's a book that will make you see the world in a different way – forever:

https://www.penguinrandomhouse.com/books/612711/how-infrastructure-works-by-deb-chachra/

Chachra structures the book as a kind of travelogue, in which she visits power plants, sewers, water treatment plants and other "charismatic megaprojects," connecting these to science, history, and her own memoir. In so doing, she doesn't merely surface the normally invisible stuff that sustains us all, but also surfaces its normally invisible meaning.

Infrastructure isn't merely a way to deliver life's necessities – mobility, energy, sanitation, water, and so on – it's a shared way of delivering those necessities. It's not just that economies of scale and network effects don't merely make it more efficient and cheaper to provide these necessities to whole populations. It's also that the lack of these network and scale effects make it unimaginable that these necessities could be provided to all of us without being part of a collective, public project.

Think of the automobile versus public transit: if you want to live in a big, built up city, you need public transit. Once a city gets big enough, putting everyone who needs to go everywhere in a car becomes a Red Queen's Race. With that many cars on the road, you need more roads. More roads push everything farther apart. Once everything is farther apart, you need more cars.

Geometry hates cars. You can't bargain with geometry. You can't tunnel your way out of this. You can't solve it with VTOL sky-taxis. You can't fix it with self-driving cars whose car-to-car comms let them shave down their following distances. You need buses, subways and trams. You need transit. There's a reason that every plan to "disrupt" transportation ends up reinventing the bus:

https://stanforddaily.com/2018/04/09/when-silicon-valley-accidentally-reinvents-the-city-bus/

Even the cities we think of as motorists' paradises – such as LA – have vast, extensive transit systems. They suck – because they are designed for poor people – but without them, the city would go from traffic-blighted to traffic-destroyed.

The dream of declaring independence from society, of going "off-grid," of rejecting any system of mutual obligation and reliance isn't merely an infantile fantasy – it also doesn't scale, which is ironic, given how scale-obsessed its foremost proponents are in their other passions. Replicating sanitation, water, rubbish disposal, etc to create individual systems is wildly inefficient. Creating per-person communications systems makes no sense – by definition, communications involves at least two people.

So infrastructure, Chachra reminds us, is a form of mutual aid. It's a gift we give to ourselves, to each other, and to the people who come after us. Any rugged individualism is but a thin raft, floating on an ocean of mutual obligation, mutual aid, care and maintenance.

Infrastructure is vital and difficult. Its amortization schedule is so long that in most cases, it won't pay for itself until long after the politicians who shepherded it into being are out of office (or dead). Its duty cycle is so long that it can be easy to forget it even exists – especially since the only time most of us notice infrastructure is when it stops working.

This makes infrastructure precarious even at the best of times – hard to commit to, easy to neglect. But throw in the climate emergency and it all gets pretty gnarly. Whatever operating parameters we've designed into our infra, whatever maintenance regimes we've committed to for it, it's totally inadequate. We're living through a period where abnormal is normal, where hundred year storms come every six months, where the heat and cold and wet and dry are all off the charts.

It's not just that the climate emergency is straining our existing infrastructure – Chachra makes the obvious and important point that any answer to the climate emergency means building a lot of new infrastructure. We're going to need new systems for power, transportation, telecoms, water delivery, sanitation, health delivery, and emergency response. Lots of emergency response.

Chachra points out here that the history of big, transformative infra projects is…complicated. Yes, Bazalgette's London sewers were a breathtaking achievement (though they could have done a better job separating sewage from storm runoff), but the money to build them, and all the other megaprojects of Victorian England, came from looting India. Chachra's family is from India, though she was raised in my hometown of Toronto, and spent a lot of her childhood traveling to see family in Bhopal, and she has a keen appreciation of the way that those old timey Victorian engineers externalized their costs on brown people half a world away.

But if we can figure out how to deliver climate-ready infra, the possibilities are wild – and beautiful. Take energy: we've all heard that Americans use far more energy than most of their foreign cousins (Canadians and Norwegians are even more energy-hungry, thanks to their heating bills).

The idea of providing every person on Earth with the energy abundance of an average Canadian is a horrifying prospect – provided that your energy generation is coupled to your carbon emissions. But there are lots of renewable sources of energy. For every single person on Earth to enjoy the same energy diet as a Canadian, we would have to capture a whopping four tenths of a percent of the solar radiation that reaches the Earth. Four tenths of a percent!

Of course, making solar – and wind, tidal, and geothermal – work will require a lot of stuff. We'll need panels and windmills and turbines to catch the energy, batteries to store it, and wires to transmit it. The material bill for all of this is astounding, and if all that material is to come out of the ground, it'll mean despoiling the environments and destroying the lives of the people who live near those extraction sites. Those are, of course and inevitably, poor and/or brown people.

But all those materials? They're also infra problems. We've spent millennia treating energy as scarce, despite the fact that fresh supplies of it arrive on Earth with every sunrise and every moonrise. Moreover, we've spent that same period treating materials as infinite despite the fact that we've got precisely one Earth's worth of stuff, and fresh supplies arrive sporadically, unpredictably, and in tiny quantities that usually burn up before they reach the ground.

Chachra proposes that we could – we must – treat material as scarce, and that one way to do this is to recognize that energy is not. We can trade energy for material, opting for more energy intensive manufacturing processes that make materials easier to recover when the good reaches its end of life. We can also opt for energy intensive material recovery processes. If we put our focus on designing objects that decompose gracefully back into the material stream, we can build the energy infrastructure to make energy truly abundant and truly clean.

This is a bold engineering vision, one that fuses Chachra's material science background, her work as an engineering educator, her activism as an anti-colonialist and feminist. The way she lays it out is just…breathtaking. Here, read an essay of hers that prefigures this book:

https://tinyletter.com/metafoundry/letters/metafoundry-75-resilience-abundance-decentralization

How Infrastructure Works is a worthy addition to the popular engineering books that have grappled with the climate emergency. The granddaddy of these is the late David MacKay's open access, brilliant, essential, Sustainable Energy Without the Hot Air, a book that will forever change the way you think about energy:

https://memex.craphound.com/2009/04/08/sustainable-energy-without-the-hot-air-the-freakonomics-of-conservation-climate-and-energy/

The whole "Without the Hot Air" series is totally radical, brilliant, and beautiful. Start with the Sustainable Materials companion volume to understand why everything can be explained by studying, thinking about and changing the way we use concrete and aluminum:

https://memex.craphound.com/2011/11/17/sustainable-materials-indispensable-impartial-popular-engineering-book-on-the-future-of-our-built-and-made-world/

And then get much closer to home – your kitchen, to be precise – with the Food and Climate Change volume:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/01/06/methane-diet/#3kg-per-day

Reading Chachra's book, I kept thinking about Saul Griffith's amazing Electrify, a shovel-ready book about how we can effect the transition to a fully electrified America:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/12/09/practical-visionary/#popular-engineering

Chachra's How Infrastructure Works makes a great companion volume to Electrify, a kind of inspirational march to play accompaniment on Griffith's nuts-and-bolts journey. It's a lyrical, visionary book, charting a bold course through the climate emergency, to a world of care, maintenance, comfort and abundance.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/17/care-work/#charismatic-megaprojects

My next novel is The Lost Cause, a hopeful novel of the climate emergency. Amazon won't sell the audiobook, so I made my own and I'm pre-selling it on Kickstarter!

#pluralistic #books #reviews #deb chachra #debcha #engineering #infrastructure #free energy #material science #abundance #scarcity #mutual aid #maintenance #99 percent invisible #colonialism #gift guide

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tiniedemon · 1 year

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. . .

reasons kenny mccormick has been banned from us mall retail stores

sephora

definitely takes off running with a makeup pallet for marjorine

trips and falls into a rare beauty display

sprays an entire tester bottle of cologne in the fragrance section

hot topic

connected to the speakers somehow and played material girl bass boosted for 45 minutes straight

customer couldn’t find a shirt so he went in the back to search for it

attempted to climb the wall to get a shirt and ripped four wall hooks out

played tag with the hot topic employees in a skirt he didn’t pay for

spencers

taste tested every bottle of flavored lube in the store

shattered three ash trays on the floor

opened a pack of incense and lit it for a smell test

tried to sell a vibrator he didn’t pay for for double the price

zumiez

assembled a skateboard in the corner of the store and then skated around the entire store

tried on every sock in a pack of socks and tried to return them (he didn’t pay for them)

tried a hat on without realizing he had lice

victoria secret

took lingerie off the display model, spit in the bra, and put it back on

drank a bottle of perfume for $5

asked every employee if they thought his dick could fit in a thong

stood on top of a display table and danced, broke the table

ross

tried to fit into a onesie and ripped it

ate an entire eyeshadow pallet

hid inside of a rug until after closing

put his fist through a painting

apple store

set a picture of the inside of his nostril as the phone background

played cotton eyed joe staggered on every display device full volume

tried to return his samsung.. to the apple store.. that he didn’t get it from

accidentally spilled half a bottle of water on a macbook

h&m

played the penis game with craig from across the store

rode a skateboard he was forced to buy from zumiez across the store

spilled an entire bottle of hand sanitizer on the floor and then ran through it and fell on his ass

bath & body works

stole two pockets full of hand sanitizer

lathered his body in lotion and told the employees he was having an allergic reaction

spit in a bottle of perfume and took it to the counter and tried to get it for free because it was contaminated

lit five candles, arranged them in a circle, and held a seance

sprayed 12 cologne testers on a test strip and ate it for $5

toys r us

had a nerf battle with craig in the middle of the store

took a doll out of the packaging and drew pentagrams and penises all over the face

arranged two barbies to look like they’re fucking

programmed every voice recording toy to say “eating ass is good for your mental health”

threw a bopit at craig and broke his nose

food court

food fight

#south park #kenny mccormick

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indigosunsetao3 · 22 days

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Chapter 2

Waging war over the trash bins.

AO3 (Full list of tags/warnings. Please check them.) Masterlist 3.6k Words

“Damn it,” Celeste muttered as she came around the bend to her cottage. Standing on the road was her elderly neighbor, who had nothing better to do than to police the neighborhood. Street really, they weren’t in a community. There certainly was no governing body about how your house had to look. So this woman had decided it was her job to make sure everything looked prim and proper for the birds and deer.

Plastering a fake smile on her face, Celeste turned slowly into her driveway and watched as the woman hobbled down the gravel a bit. She wasn’t going to risk Celeste just running into the house to avoid her, which she was contemplating as she undid her seatbelt. The woman was waving at her with an equally forced smile, reaching out to rest her hand on the trunk to block Celeste from getting far unless she bowled her over. Still an option.

With a groan, Celeste let her seatbelt whack against the door before opening it and stepping out. She knew exactly what this was about, her eyes snapping up to where the bins should have been at the edge of her drive. She hadn’t brought them back in once again. By the time she remembered, trash day was only two days away. Why risk missing the pickup when she was so close?

But they weren’t there. Had the woman gone through with her empty threats finally?

“Good evening, Mrs. Nettles,” Celeste said as she bent back down and grabbed her purse and phone out of her car. “Something I can help you with?”

“Oh, dear, I know you are terribly busy,” the woman started as she gave Celeste a once over. Her black apron was covered in powdered sugar, she had spilled coffee down her front, and errant receipts were sticking out of the front pockets. “But you are aware it’s Wednesday, right?”

“Is it?” Celeste asked, playing into the woman’s obvious dig at her. “Working all these hours, I just…lose track of the days.” A lie. Celeste was well aware of what day it was. Especially now that she was coming up on a year, the days ticking away so quickly as if they were mocking her.

“I’m sure. I hear you come and go at all hours,” the woman started. “Even in my old age, the slightest noise wakes me from a dead sleep. I guess my hearing is still intact,” she laughed. It wasn’t a joke; it was another dig at Celeste. She apparently slammed her doors shut too loudly or played her music a little too loud for the woman’s liking.

“Is there something you need?” Celeste asked as she shut her car door and made a show of finding her house key on her car keys. She had so many things on the keyring: old broken chains, keys to things she didn’t own anymore, a frayed lanyard, and a long empty bottle of hand sanitizer. All the while, she looked around casually for her stupid bins to see if they had fallen in a ditch or were across the street in the bushes.

“Well, it is Wednesday, and rubbish pickup is on Fridays,” the woman said as she gestured behind her vaguely. “Your bins had been at the road since last week.”

“Ah, yeah,” Celeste answered with a small shrug, catching on the word had. This miserable woman did have them taken. “It’s been a rainy week, and I forgot about them. Coming and going all the time, working doubles,” she trailed off as movement caught her eye. A man was walking around the corner of her house, and she stiffened, turning her heel to glare at him. Who the hell was he, and why was he on her property?

“Can I help you?” Celeste snapped as she eyed him up and down. “You do know this private property.”

“Celeste,” Mrs. Nettles interfered, sounding scandalized at Celeste’s tone. “This is John, your new neighbor,” she introduced as John walked up to stand near them.

This man was different from the man she had seen last week in the sling. Maybe this was the person that would be renovating the place. He seemed rugged enough for the role: well-worn jeans, beat-up work boots, and solidly built. Aside from seeing lights on inside the cottage every night, and even in the early mornings when she was leaving at four in the morning, she had not physically seen anyone in days. They kept to themselves, and she did the same thing. Something Mrs. Nettles could learn.

“I stopped by his place to remind him about trash day. I didn’t realize his poor roommate just had surgery and couldn’t manage it,” Mrs. Nettles continued with a simpering tone that she never gave Celeste. “But he graciously offered to grab your bins for you while he was at it.”

Probably because Mrs. Nettles was bitching about her bins to him to garner sympathy, Celeste thought. And to manipulate him into helping her.

“I can handle my bins just fine,” Celeste answered as she looked over at John, eyes scanning up at the sizeable height difference between him and the older woman who looked like she was itching to take his elbow.

“But dear, you don’t. They are always at the road; when it’s windy, they blow all over. One was already knocked over when John grabbed them for you.” Mrs. Nettles praised as if he had just saved a child from a burning building. Celeste felt her eyes roll before she could stop them. The woman noticed.

“If you don’t start keeping up with them, I will have to call the town.” Mrs. Nettles said with a cold finality as she did, in fact, grab John’s elbow. Acting as if he were going to protect her from Celeste, whose eyes had widened with disbelief.

John shifted his feet a bit and glanced back toward his cottage. He clearly regretted letting this older woman rope him in to help. When Mrs. Nettles grabbed his elbow, he closed his eyes a beat too long for a blink and inhaled. Celeste could tell he was too polite to shake the woman off, but he wanted to be anywhere but here.

“I’ll bring my bins in when I remember to bring them in,” Celeste snapped at the woman. If this old bitty wanted to have a fight, they were going to fight. “There isn’t a rule for how long they sit at the road,” she gestured angrily at the road so her keys jingled in her hands. “I can leave them out there all year round if I want. I can get three more and leave them all out there. Just for you to stare at them.” She was seething and was being obnoxious on purpose, but God, it felt good to just let some of the pent-up emotion out.

Mrs. Nettles mouthed at her like a fish out of water, eyes darting to John to back her up, but Celeste turned around and headed to her cottage. She stamped angrily to the door and shoved it open hard, not bothering to lift it as it scraped the stone entryway. Samson was waiting at the door, and she scooped him up before kicking it shut hard behind her.

“Nosey old bat,” Celeste groused, perhaps an octave too loud, as she flung her purse onto the bench in the entryway.

She wished she had the time and energy to worry about what her neighbors were doing, patrol the road, note everything out of place, and harass people for not following her made-up rules. Did it look better when bins weren’t on the road? Sure. Were the cottages prettier when the landscaping was kept up? Definitely. Did Celeste have the energy to do all that or care about it? Not in the least.

Celeste paced the living room for a bit, glancing out the big picture window to see John walk Mrs. Nettles back to her house. She narrowed her eyes, watching them go. The lead glass was too warped for them to see her glaring, but she could see them slowly walking down the road.

Mrs. Nettles had lived in her cottage with her late husband, Al, their whole married lives. Celeste’s husband grew up with them every summer and winter holiday. He said they had been just as fussy then as she was now, always worried about what everything looked like. He used to joke that they were concerned the royals would parade through town and condemn them for a flower out of place. Or would be disappointed that they weren’t following all the ‘royal rules’ about rubbish bins.

It used to be a joke between Celeste and him, the royal curb police, but now it was just an annoyance. There was no one to roll her eyes with and laugh about it over dinner or to leave to fend for themselves as the other listened with a grin as they hid around the back of the house. Instead, she was stuck with the meddling woman who took it upon herself to pester everyone on the street.

Mrs. Nettles wasn’t friendly, she wasn’t pleasant. She was mean in her own backhanded way and was on a personal crusade against Celeste. All the neighbors knew how she was and did their best to avoid her. Many would go back inside the house when they saw her coming or just make their lawns magazine-worthy so she’d leave them alone. John was fresh meat and didn’t know just how petty the woman was. He’d learn soon enough; they all eventually saw the nasty, manipulative side of her and grew tired of it.

When Samson wriggled hard enough to ask to be let down, Celeste set him on the floor and followed him to the kitchen. He sat at the back door and looked pointedly back at her, asking to go outside. He had behaved that day and hadn’t tried to get out; it was the least she could. With a sigh, she opened the back door for him to scamper out, and she spotted the bins. They were propped up against the side of her detached garage, and a vicious flare of anger went through her.

Fuck Mrs. Nettles and her stupid rules.

Walking outside, Celeste grabbed the two bins, tilted them onto the wheels, then began walking back to the end of the driveway. They bumped into one another and caught the back of her heels, making her curse; she usually brought them up one at a time. But she had come this far, and she was pissed enough that she was going to be stubborn about it. So she dragged them jerkily over the gravel, muttering under her breath until she got to the edge of the drive.

She set them out prominently around the overgrown bush and stepped back to look at her work. The bright blue recycling bin stood out perfectly against the still half-dead landscaping. Celeste stepped forward and dragged the black bin a little more prominently when she snapped her head up. John was making his way back from Mrs. Nettles' house, and he eyed her as he walked, a smirk on his face.

“Antagonizing her isn’t going to get her to let up,” John said as he got a bit closer, stopping a few feet away.

“I hope it festers,” Celeste answered smugly as she wiped her hands absently on her apron. “I hope it drives her absolutely mad when she sees them out here again. And when she calls the town, and they tell her there is nothing they can do about it, I know she’ll have a little tantrum. I only wish I could see it.”

“I take it you two don’t exchange Christmas cards,” John answered. He glanced up the road toward the woman’s house before back to Celeste.

“Hardly. She’s been a thorn in everyone’s side for years,” Celeste answered before twisting to look at John’s cottage. “She’s just playing nice with you right now, hoping you’ll clean the place up. She’s been whining about the state of that cottage to anyone that will listen for a long while.”

“She’s going to be waiting,” John answered as he spotted Kyle walk out the front door, looking to see what was taking him so long. “I leave for work tomorrow, and Kyle isn’t exactly fit to be doing anything.”

“Tell him to just ignore her,” Celeste started, “avoid her, actually. Better for everyone.”

“He’s too nice for all that,” John answered as Kyle walked out to the car and leaned against the hood, watching them talk. “But I’ll give him a warning.”

“Being nice isn’t always the answer,” Celeste answered.

Before John could respond, she headed back to her cottage, abruptly ending the conversation. She had enough for the afternoon and was honestly afraid that the woman would pop out from behind the tree line to start up another fight. For acting so frail, she was spritely. And while Celeste wanted to antagonize her, she wasn’t ready to start arguing just yet.

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

“Making friends?” Kyle asked as John walked back over, cutting through the thin tree line that dotted the property between their cottage and neighbor. He had watched the old woman corner John and didn’t do a damn thing to help him. He just smirked and gave him a snarky little wave as John glared at him when the woman practically dragged him along.

“Don’t start,” Price replied as he patted his pants down for the car keys. They weren’t there.

“Here,” Kyle answered as he held out the keys with his good hand, the keyring looped around a finger. He grinned a bit as John took them from him, his hand brushing over his and lingering a fraction too long to be completely casual. “What’s the neighbor's name?” He tacked on as he walked to the passenger's side and opened the door.

“Celeste,” John answered as he watched Kyle and waited patiently for him to buckle himself in. He knew helping him would be easier, but Kyle felt infantile enough as it was. “She’s looking to start a war with the self-imposed street police,” his voice was exasperated, but the slight twitch of his lips gave away the amusement.

“I thought we were coming here to avoid war,” Kyle stated as he finally got the seatbelt in place and twisted back with a huff.

“I highly doubt either of them are going to be lobbing tear gas over their fence,” John replied, his gaze lingering on where Celeste’s backdoor had opened again. He hesitated as he twiddled the wheel and watched her walk out across her lawn, her little orange cat on her heels, headed toward her dock.

“If we have to pick sides, I’m taking the old lady,” Kyle answered as he peered at John, then followed his eyeline toward Celeste. She was headed back out to that dock for the third night in a row. Kyle had spotted her the evening before, sitting in the light rain before she finally gave up as a downpour chased her inside. “Probably has some tricks up her sleeve from the Second World War,” he smirked.

“Don’t count Celeste out just yet,” John answered as he watched her a moment longer. She sat in the left chair as she always did and set a bottle of wine on the small table. The right chair remained empty; not even her cat jumped into it.

“Are you going to pick up another stray?” Kyle asked teasingly as John finally pulled out of the driveway, hand deftly shifting gears. “Johnny and Simon were territorial enough when you brought me home.”

“Should have left all three if you out in the rain,” John answered as Kyle laughed and settled back further into his leather seat.

They spent a good while in town. Kyle had found a small home goods store to pick up new sheets for the bed he had ordered, which was set to arrive in a few days. After spending one night on the twin bed and waking up with a spring lodged in his back, he had deemed it uninhabitable. Next, they made a quick stop at the liquor store to stock up on the "good stuff," as John put it. John only drank beer if there were no other options, dismissing it as ‘piss water’ until someone found him a decent Scotch.

Their final stop was the grocer, where they stocked up on more than just beer and prepackaged food to fill the fridge. John had groused over Kyle’s lack of proper food while he was supposed to be recovering, masking his concern for Kyle’s well-being with worry about the team being down a man. Kyle grinned to himself for the rest of the trip, glancing occasionally at John, who seemed to avoid eye contact at all costs. The dance they had been performing for a while was picking up tempo.

“Who knew the whole town would shut down at nine,” Kyle muttered as he shifted the styrofoam containers on his lap. They had planned on eating a proper meal in a restaurant, but everything was closing down for the evening. The waitress had given them a withering look when they asked for a table at eight-thirty and offered them takeaway instead.

“I’m sure it will change in the summer,” John answered as he flicked the high beams off. The mist on the road was thick, and the light was just reflecting back at him as he tried to navigate the winding roads.

Kyle didn’t answer as he popped open the lid of his box and reached in for a chip, but John cut his eyes over to him. They were supposed to sit and eat together, none of this rush shit that they did out in the field. Kyle quickly shut the lid and held his hand up in a surrender gesture, letting the boxes continue to warm his legs.

“She’s still out there,” John said a moment later as the car lights swung over Celeste’s property when they pulled in. He wasn’t exactly looking for her, but his eyes wandered in that direction nonetheless.

“She’s out there late most nights,” Kyle answered as he looked as well.

Neither of them grabbed their seatbelts, and John let the car run as they watched. Celeste didn’t react to the lights or the sound of the car, not even peering over her shoulder. John contemplated getting out to check on her when he saw her shift. It was subtle, but he saw her hand reach to the side before curling back in again. Grabbing her bottle of wine.

“Does she sleep out there?” John asked when he finally cut the engine and climbed out. He went for the groceries in the trunk while Kyle juggled the food, hipping his door shut.

“No, I keep an eye on her. Make sure she doesn’t fall in the lake,” Kyle answered. He caught the look John gave him. It was a curious one, perhaps a little too knowing, before he returned to gathering the bags. “She wanders inside, eventually.”

“Now who’s looking for strays,” John taunted as he followed Kyle into the cottage.

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

Celeste rose from her chair, groaning as she stretched her stiff back and legs, her butt having gone numb some time ago. She stumbled slightly as she grabbed her blanket and the empty bottle of wine, catching herself on the back of the chair she had just left. The water had been calm that evening, with a mist dancing across the surface, shifting gently with the breeze. A few boats had drifted by, moving lazily, and Celeste had watched them come and go with a slightly vacant expression.

The lake was her sanctuary, a place where she could escape and let nature envelop her, becoming just another blip on the shore. On particularly tough evenings, when her thoughts refused to quiet, she brought wine along. Lately, she found she needed wine most nights. The approaching anniversary was making it increasingly difficult to silence her mind. That evening had been especially hard; she’d downed a whole bottle in one sitting without even getting up to eat.

Throwing her blanket over her shoulder, she carefully made her way down the dock, Samson trotting beside her and mewling for his dinner. She twirled the empty wine bottle between her fingers as she walked when a sound drew her attention. Glancing to the side, she spotted two figures on their back porch, small embers glowing in the dark as they smoked. Shit, she thought. Had they seen her stumble? She hoped they would dismiss it as the dock rocking with the movement of the lake.

She watched the figures for a few more seconds as she walked, concentrating on placing one foot carefully in front of the other to avoid tripping again. Her head was swimming, and she fumbled with the door handle twice before finally getting it open and slipping inside. The bright kitchen light made her flinch, so she quickly turned it off, relying on the dim light above the stove to feed Samson. She wasn’t hungry and didn’t think she could stomach anything anyway; just the thought of food made her feel ill.

The idea of climbing the steep stairs to bed was daunting. So, instead, she wandered to the couch and collapsed into it. Five am was going to come quickly, and as she drifted to sleep in her stupor, Celeste knew she was going to be pissed at herself when she woke up. A full bottle of wine on an empty stomach, paired with a poor night’s sleep, would result in a miserable hangover; her second one that week.

#poly tf141 #poly141 #polyamory #call of duty fanfic #cod fanfic #call of duty #cod #my fic #original female character #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #john price #Lifeline

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wonnieaura · 1 month

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₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. College essentials

Are you moving to a college dorm for the first time and don’t know what to bring? Don’t worry I got you. Here are a few things you can get yourself ready for a new chapter 🫶🏻💗🎀🌱

COLLEGE ESSENTIALS

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Bedding and Comfort

• Twin XL sheets (common dorm bed size)

• Comforter or duvet

• Pillows and pillowcases

• Mattress topper (memory foam for extra comfort)

• Throw blankets

• Decorative pillows

Storage and Organization

• Under-bed storage bins

• Closet organizers

• Hangers

• Desk organizers (for pens, notebooks, etc.)

• Drawer dividers

• Shoe rack

• Storage ottoman (can double as seating)

Kitchen and Dining

• Mini fridge

• Microwave

• Electric kettle

• Coffee maker

• Reusable water bottle

• Plates, bowls, and utensils

• Mugs and glasses

• Tupperware (for leftovers and snacks)

• Snack stash

Bathroom Essentials

• Shower caddy (for transporting toiletries)

• Shower shoes/flip-flops

• Bath towels and washcloths

• Toiletries (shampoo, conditioner, soap, toothpaste, etc.)

• Robe

• Toilet paper

• Laundry basket and detergent

• Bath mat

• Mirror

Study and Technology

• Desk lamp with adjustable brightness

• Laptop and charger

• Power strip with surge protection

• Extension cords

• USB flash drive or external hard drive

• Noise-canceling headphones

• Desk chair cushion (for added comfort)

• Notebooks, pens, and planners

Décor and Personal Touches

• Wall art or posters

• String lights or LED lights

• Rug (to make the room cozier)

• Plants (real or fake)

• Photo frames or a corkboard (to display memories)

• Command hooks (for hanging items without damaging walls)

• Curtains (if the dorm allows)

Health and Wellness

• First-aid kit

• Reusable face masks

• Hand sanitizer

• Disinfecting wipes

• Vitamin supplements

• Water filter pitcher

Miscellaneous

• Fan or space heater (depending on climate)

• Tool kit (for small repairs)

• Umbrella

• Bicycle lock (if biking to campus)

• Reusable shopping bags

• Sewing kit

#beauty #fashion #hyper feminine #light feminine #pink moodboard #pink pilates princess #soft moodboard #that girl #beautytips #confidence #wonyoungism

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justastraymoa · 29 days

Text

ADVENTURES WITH CHEESE EXTENDED EDITION PT 9

As soon as I saw Cheese I ran to him and scooped him into my arms. Cheese made an annoyed noise and wiggled, but I held firm.

“You had me worried to death! How could you do that to me!” I chastised in a cutesy baby voice. Cheese looked away, uncaring about the agony he caused me and the years of my life he took from me.

Beside me Chan gave Felix a hug clapping his back loudly. “Thank you so much man! We have been looking everywhere!”

Felix laughed uncomfortably. “No problem. I didn’t even recognize him; it’s been so long.”

“And he doesn’t like you because you scared his mother.” Lino put in as he came over to scratch Cheese behind his ear.

“That too.”

“This more than makes up for that. Seriously, thank you, Felix.” I added giving the man a relieved smile.

“You are such a naughty, naughty boy! You had daddy and mommy scared.” Lino lectured Cheese, who again was uncaring and just wanted to be put down.

A new person walked into the room with a wide smile on his face. “Apparently, he likes scaring people. He nearly had me jumping out of my skin hiding on the black rug and blending in.”

“This is Jisung, one of my roommates.” Felix introduced the new man. I nodded and smiled at him.

Chan chuckled. “Yeah, I changed my blankets because he blended in to well with my old ones. I kept sitting on him on accident.”

I jumped slightly as there was frantic pounding on the door. Jisung opened it to let in Bin and Hyune who looked like they ran all the way here from my old apartment. They immediately zeroed in on the cat in my arms.

Later on, that night as we all ate dinner (I hadn’t eaten all day and when Chan found out he scolded me like a dad for ten minutes) Lino brought up putting a chip in Cheese.

I shrugged. “Honestly it never occurred to me to do that. But it’s a good idea since he has gotten out twice now. And with you guys taking him on trips and crap.”

Lino looked relieved. “Exactly. And if this should ever happen again, we can find him right away.”

“Plus, I am going to take him to the vet anyways to get him checked over for injuries. I can just have them put the chip in then.” It would be a weight off my chest knowing that we had a very good chance of getting Cheese back right away if he escaped again. And most places have chip scanners now so if some nice person took him to a vet or animal shelter, they would be able to contact me.

I smirked at Bin. He had spent almost every second doing little things for me and Cheese to ease his guilt. I kept telling him it wasn’t necessary, but hell if he would listen to me. Instead, he actually let Cheese on his bed and made me my favorite snack before bed.

Cheese scratched at the door again mewing pitifully before turning his big boba eyes on me. “Nuh uh, mister. You aren’t going to cute your way out of this one. We are almost done then we can go home.” I reached a handout to offer pets, but Cheese ignored it, meowing loudly at the door again.

Cheese was so mad at me he slept with Chan for 3 days. But at least I knew that I could find him now and that he was okay and healthy.

Now the Chan Clan was gone for 2 weeks on a business trip, and I had the apartment all to myself. It was too quiet. I was used to there being noise always coming from somewhere.

I was used to being able to talk to one of them or show them a stupid video or meme I found of them that would make them laugh or blush. It was one of my favorite past times now. But it was lonely in this apartment without them.

I had spent a whole day distracting myself by cleaning everything I could get my hands on. Right down to washing and sanitizing Cheeses toys and putting his cloth toys and blankets in the washer. I even went through my dresser and filled a garbage bag full of clothes to donate.

Now everything was spotless and the whole apartment smelled like cleaning supplies, but I had nothing to do. Anytime I started to watch tv I would get to a part that I wanted to show one of the boys and remember again that they weren’t there. And a lot of shows I was watching with them, and I couldn’t watch without them here. That ruins all the fun.

Even cat movie Friday was a bummer. I watched the first movie I found that mentioned a cat. Turns out it was about a cat who was abandoned and spent the rest of the movie searching for his loved ones. I was sobbing the entire time.

My phone rang early the next morning with a video call from Lino.

“Melluh.” I mumbled still half asleep.

“I told you she would still be in bed.” Bins tiny voice came over the line and I opened my eyes in confusion.

All 4 of my boys were on the tiny screen of my phone. Squished together so they could all fit into the frame but looking happy enough. I sat up and rubbed my eyes trying to wake up. “S’okay. How are you? I miss you.” I mumbled.

“We miss you too, y/nnie!” Bin said way too loudly making me flinch slightly.

Hyune squinted and leaned closer to the phone. “You look puffy.”

“Gee, thanks oh so much. You look great. Like usual.” I rolled my eyes.

Hyune ignored me. “Have you been crying?”

This got everyone’s attention and they all suddenly looked very concerned. I waved their concerns away shaking my head. “Yeah. I watched a sad movie last night. It got me right in the feels.”

“You watched a sad movie for cat movie Friday? Why?”

I swear. “I didn’t do it on purpose! I just chose one at random and it happened to be sad. And then I couldn’t just stop watching because then I wouldn’t know what happened and it would bother the hell out of me!”

“Whatever, who cares. Where’s Cheese?” Lino asked. I glared at him. I know he cared about me, but sometimes his words did hurt a little.

“I’m hanging up.” I announced.

“No, wait, I’m sorry! It is good to see you too, just I need my fix of Cheese too, you know.” Lino was quick to back step.

I sighed at moved so Cheese was in the frame too. He was sleeping peacefully on the empty side of my bed, one of his blankets curled around him like a nest and him nestled inside nice and toasty warm.

There were 3 collective ‘awwwws’ which made Cheese crack an eye open before stretching out his front paws and yawning.

I did have to admit I saved the video and all the photos I could of the kitten interview on my phone. They were truly adorable and the interactions with them were funny as hell. Chan was such a little baby when it came to their sharp claws. And Lino was just chilling there like an expert cat whisperer playing with them and keeping them calm in his arms.

You would think Chan would be in better practice in dealing with cats now that he has lived with Cheese for so long, but apparently not. And Hyune was really about to love all Cheese privileges if he says one more thing about dogs being better than cats. That’s a crime in this house. And I will not stand for it!

A/N: Cheese is back home from his wandering! Now we can get back into his more fun shenanigans!

I hope you enjoyed and as always thank you for any and all interactions

Skz + pets masterlist

Taglist: @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor

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nukacourier · 4 months

Text

Bored and yearning. Here's some Arcade x transmasc headcanons

- Will gladly help you with T shots or T gel. He's always very careful about it every time he helps out

- Reminds you (if pre-op/no-op and binding) to take breaks from wearing your binder and gives you back massages if your back hurts from it

- If post-op and had just gotten top surgery, he'd do basically everything for you. Getting you food, reaching things for you, letting you rest in bed, and even helping you change your bandages. Every time he has to leave your side for something he gives you a quick kiss on the forehead

- If strictly no-op, he'd assure you he's still very attracted to you whether you get surgery or not. He'd probably even be a little envious of you for being more comfortable as yourself than he is, but it never makes him bitter. If anything he admires you

- If post-op and healed, he'd love to lay with you and trace over your scars with his hands. He finds it hot and thinks it makes you more "rugged"

- Thinks you're very awesome just for existing despite troubles you might face. You inspire him to slowly take better care of himself for you

- Constantly researching more efficient ways to medically transition, excitedly tells you about any breakthroughs he makes even if they're small

- Willing to defend you with his LIFE. Will chew out transphobes with both scientific backing and insult them at the same time, also willing to deck someone in the face if they get too ballsy around you (he always acts embarrassed afterwards though. He doesn't like violence but loves you enough to resort to it if needed)

- Learns about transgender/queer history both in pre-war and post-war times and tells you anything about it he thinks you'd find interesting

- Lets you wear his clothes if yours are dirty or damaged. Sometimes even excitedly insists on it because he loves how you look in his clothes

- Lets you use his razor if you need to shave and don't have one. He makes sure to sanitize it after use so you don't have to worry about shared germs

- Writes your new name down on his hand if you pick a new one. Very intent on memorizing it as best he can

- If you use xenopronouns/neopronouns, he loves hearing about it because he thinks it's a fascinating use of linguistics

- Just genuinely thinks you're the coolest guy ever. He'd be happy to have you around and gets depressed when you're away. Probably even talks about you a lot

- Excited at any progress in your transition. Whether it's physical changes or simply seeing you happy to be yourself, it makes him overjoyed to see you happy

#thats all for now. obv not all of these apply to every trans guy but im hoping its varied enough #also i hope it doesnt sound like im picturing him as a chaser 😭 just jotting down things id like from my perspective #vinny rambles #fallout new vegas #arcade gannon #arcade gannon x reader

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socksareendangered · 3 months

Note

Ack, yeah another one, that's what I meant, sorry ^^;

thank you for clarifying everything💯🙌

this agent three will have my own headcannons

Yandere Sanitized Male Agent 3 × Inkling Reader

>you were his partner before everything, his best friend before he became agent 3

>how shocked you were seeing him like this while the city of inkopolis was ending

>seeing the once sweet and gentle man lead sanitized octolings to capture citizens

>you being a victim of the raid, captured and taken down to deep sea metro

>naturally terrified from the situation, locked in a cage crammed in with others who were as distressed as you were

>you happened to be the oldest that was stuck in the cage, trying to comfort the teens while trying to keep yourself under control

>though you had to watch one by one as each of them got taken away by the octolings to do.. whatever they've done to the rest of them

>one day, or night since you're not even sure anymore, you arose from slumber feeling someone watch you

>the sharp gasp that left you when you saw your hypnotized boyfriend, a glowing blob that took control of the right side of his face

>once golden eyes turned a sour neon green that moving in a nauseating pattern

>he could only stare at you, felt like he knew who you were

>reaching a confident hand into the cage to hold your face, which you moved into from muscle memoring

>he still felt warm, the rough texture of his worn out hands rubbing your flushed cheek

>you saw his brows furrow slightly at your sad state, he always hated when you felt down

>trying to make you laugh and distract you from whatever was causing such a feeling

>would beat up any man for you if you asked him to, could be annoying you and he'd fight him if you asked

>when it was finally your turn to be sanitized, being dragged down to the lab harshly by two octolings

>you could only beg for them to let go, not wanting to turn into something so brainless

>you wanted to live life how you wanted to! not under someone else's control

>it was when you were brought to their destination, the doors to the labratory

>tears slipping down your face at your fate, unable to do anything to stop it

>just then you felt the pressure of the octolings hands leaving you, taking this as the chance to bolt the opposite direction

>panting hard as your feet hit the paneled floor hard, using whatever strength you have left to run away

>no time to think about your actions and consequences or why those octolings let go of you in the first place

>your body forced you to stop, leaning against the wall trying to regain your breath back

>breathing in and out with rugged lungs, body unused to all the movement from captivity

>body jolting up again feeling a strong presence behind you, a shadow towering over your body

>you tried to run, but tripped over your own feet and fell down onto the hard floor

>but your body felt relief and mind relaxing from the familiar touch of your boyfriend, agent 3

>his warm hands lifting you back onto your two feet, keeping your body still

>even with the whole.. glob that hypnotized him, agent 3 was still the man you remembered

>just more violent and possessive over you, missed how he was covered in the blood of those who took you away

>takes it upon himself to kill or harm anyone who even bothered to look at his sweet partner

>thinks you're the smallest and weakest thing, small hands and frame. stuck in the mindset even if you could've been taller then him

>always keeps a watchful eye on you! from a distance yes but preferred to walk right behind you

>being the scary large dog that you never asked for, but at least he's protected you from becoming sanitized

>props to him for saving your life for the 50th time, even if he's half the reason you're even here

this little guy is kinda fun to write for, agent three you are some place special in my heart. hope this was as good as the other one i made 🤷🙌

#yandere #x male reader #x fem reader #reader #x gn reader #xreader #agent 3 #male agent three #splatoon x reader #splatoon

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parkerposey · 4 months

Text

Some of my favorite preschoolisms:

- hanatizer (hand sanitizer)

- for real life

- five minute morning (we say five minute warning when it’s time to start cleaning up/transition to line up or sit around the rug or whatever and somehow they ALL say five minute morning instead)

- last day/last year/lasterday (yesterday)

- a’sposed (supposed)

- resternaut (restaurant)

- paper toilet (toilet paper)

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grumfield · 4 months

Note

more than antis i think it's because of people like you that 2ha is so hated. some proshippers love to reduce erha to just the s/e/xuaI as/sau/It. "erha is about a guy who keeps his master as a s/ex sIave mmmm delicious" when its so much more than that? and no im not trying to deny the blatant eroticization of noncon or the fact that meatbun clearly has a fetish or sanitize 2ha. but along with all this, she still narratively takes the responsibility to emphasize thoroughly how brutal, horrifying and undeserving was what happened to chu wanning. mo ran loathes himself for it as well. but deranged people like you will reduce it to & endorse the s/e/x/uaI a/ssauI/t. but then again, proshippers like you must be too desensitized to such portrayals because that's probably all or most of what you guys consume.

Lmao. Lol, even.

Reduce it? It *is* it. “I’m not trying to deny the blatant eroticism”/“I’m not denying that meatbun has a fetish” YES YOU ARE!! YOU ARE, DAWG? Did you even read the book? Did you just not pay attention to the main themes especially with Mo Ran’s entire character??? You can’t pick and choose what you do and don’t approve of from this story, just like you can’t have Mo Ran without having TXJ. They’re one and the same.

Meatbun relishes those tropes and content she writes just as much as she meditates on it and encourages the audience should do the same.

I’ve been here since 2019 I don’t give a fuck I’ve seen it all I got doxxed for this story. What pisses me off to absolutely no end is that this take comes from this complete inability to acknowledge that a story can be multiple things at once or have dialogue about something meaningful while still being indulgent and campy and scratch some kink itch, and that people can’t be the same about it. 2ha is just as much of an extremely classic set of “smexy dubcon yaoizz” with all the facets of that genre and trope as it is a thought piece on those tropes, and it’s expected that you engage with it on that level.

2ha is the teacher student time travel sex slave yaoi. I’m the first to say it’s also more than that but I’m emphasizing ALSO. Denying that denies what it is and denies the meaning you can extrapolate from it. It’s special to me because it’s one of the more interesting explorations of consent and desire and is unique it that because it goes absolutely whole ham with the tropes and then rips the rug out from under you rather than simply deconstructing them. It’s the “yes and” of fictional consent discussions.

I mean there’s the very baseline “chu wanning consent/desire” plotline but then it hits you with the exploration of mo ran and consent and what happened to him in general, about the relationship between poverty and desire/consent, about empathy and consent, and more, and like holy shit this is SO BALLER and literally ONLY WORKS. ONLY WORKS if it also functions on a baseline surface level as dubcon yaoi because a dubcon yaoi serves as the ultimate framework for exploring the complications, and grey areas of consent and desire.

Anyways. My flippancy when discussing some parts of the story is not from some fundamental misunderstanding of the plot, it comes from a complete understanding of it. Go watch Bluey or smth if you can’t handle talking about Yaoi like it’s Yaoi

#how the hell you gonna be having pro/anti discourse about 2HA?? ABOUT 2HA??#I wasn’t gonna dignify this with an actual response but dude…

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blurredcolour · 1 year

Text

Extrication in G Major | Part Four

Extrication in G Major Masterlist

Summary: After a sweet morning with Jake, reality finds you at home that night and the consequences of your decision to stand up to Luca become abundantly clear.

Warnings: VIOLENCE – [Assault, Battery, Weapons], Serious Reader Injury, Blood, Wounds, Emergency Services, First Aid, Cliff Hanger, Mature/Explicit Themes [oral – m/f receiving, manual stimulation – m/f receiving, condoms, multiple orgasms, vaginal penetration] – 18+ Only.

Author’s Note: This part contains intense violence. If you are not comfortable taking on the warnings above, please stop reading once you reach the part where the reader is asleep at home in her apartment. I will add a sanitized recap at the beginning of Part Five.

Word Count: 4628

The watery grey of pre-dawn seeped through your eyelids, rousing you to consciousness. The heat of Jake’s body was pressed against your back, his arm slung around your hips holding him to you. At some point in the night, in a futile attempt to regulate your body temperature, you had slid you legs out from beneath the duvet to counteract the warmth he supplied.

He deep, soothing, rhythmic breaths nearly pulled you back under. Made your eyelids droop. But your body protested its need to visit the bathroom, making clear the real reason why you found yourself awake. Biting your lip to hone your focus, you carefully slid his arm from your body before slipping off the edge of the bed, creeping to the ensuite bathroom to resolve the issue that woke you before padding back into the room quietly. The sun was just beginning to work its way above the horizon behind the city skyline across the bay, giving advance warning of its arrival by drenching the clouds in hues of pink and red. Snagging the throw that had somehow, once again, found its way onto the area rug beneath the bed, you wrapped the woven fibres around the bare skin of your body before carefully unlocking the sliding door and stepping out onto the covered balcony to take in the sunrise in its full glory.

The bay was calm, the water almost as smooth as glass; reflecting the riot of colour playing out above, amplifying the spectacular beauty of the moment. A pair of strong arms suddenly slid around you from behind, making you gasp as you jumped slightly before you leaned back against Jake’s broad chest.

“Sorry Jake, I didn’t mean to wake you…” You whispered, feeling as though speaking any louder at that time of day would be utterly inappropriate.

“S’ok.” He mumbled into your shoulder sleepily. “You just looked so pretty out here I couldn’t help myself…” He yawned deeply and you bit your tongue to hold back a chuckle.

The pair of you stood in companionable silence, watching the sunrise, until his arms tightened around your waist a little.

“Darlin’, would you do something for me?” He asked softly, sounding notably more awake.

Turning in his arms to face him, you swallowed thickly to see that he had not bothered to cover his expanse of golden skin.

“Of course, Jake…” You murmured breathlessly, fingers tracing across his pectoral muscles absently, drawn to touch him by a force akin to magnetism.

His lips pulled up into a smirk as he watched you through his soft lashes, wetting his lips with his tongue.

“Would you play that song for me again?”

“Hmmm?” You looked up to him, confused, as you had played a great many of songs with him in the audience.

“The one where you sat my dumb ass down, darlin’, the first night we met…” He grinned knowingly and you could not help but laugh, pulling his lips to yours for a firm kiss.

“Sure…just let me get my cello.” Your lips brushed against his as you spoke, pressing another warm kiss to them before you stepped back to head inside.

You dropped the throw and dug through the pile of clothes, pulling on his boxers – your underwear truly was beyond use, and his black t-shirt before heading down the stairs to fetch your cello from the kitchen. The roses remained a supple red where they lay half in the sink and you smirked, pleased, before returning to the main suite to find him sitting on the end of the bed, still not bothering with clothing.

“Can I record you?” He asked, long fingers idly flipping his phone end-over-end as he watched you set up in the armchair in the corner of the room.

“Sure, just give me a moment to look over the score again, it’s been a bit…” You rifled around in inside pocket of your cello case, finding the paper score.

Humming along softly, you practiced the fingering against your thigh. You ran through it twice before you felt ready and looked to Jake.

“It might not be perfect…” You warned him as you took your position, nestling the cello between your knees.

“You’re perfect, darlin’…” He winked and your heart skittered against your ribs.

You took a deep, steadying breath before nodding to him to go ahead and press record. The rendition of Bach’s Cello Suite No.1 in G Major that you played that morning was different than the first time you had met. For one you were not furious at him. In fact, despite that rocky start, you had grown to care for him quite deeply. For another, you were also facing the consequences of your refusal to pay Luca’s latest bill. Your stubbornness in the moment had planted a seed of fear deep inside you which laced the overall melancholy of the melody with a frenetic energy. Your dynamic bowing had the generous neck of Jake’s t-shirt sliding off your right shoulder, but you did not even notice as you continued to play, lost in the song.

You stayed perfectly still as the last of the notes faded into the silence, waiting for him to confirm he had stopped recording.

“Stay right there, hold on.” He quickly stepped over to you and took your bow carefully putting it and your cello away, closing the case before inserting himself in the empty space between your legs, looking awfully pleased with himself. “Finally made it right where I wanted to be.” He crowed softly on his knees, and you rolled your eyes, pressing your lips to his to shut him up. “All seriousness though…” he panted against your lips, shaking his head. “…what is a talented woman like you doing wasting her time in San Diego?” The sea glass green of his eyes flicked to yours, making the muscles of your throat constrict roughly.

“Got tired of the cold and grey…wanted sun and sand…Plus if I knew they made them as pretty as you out here I would have come a lot sooner…” You slid your hands into his hair and arched down to kiss him deeply, hoping to erase that train of thought as you licked along his tongue.

He grunted into your mouth hungrily, fingers digging into the fabric of his boxers on your hips, tugging on them insistently until you lifted off the chair. He pulled them down your legs, hooking your knees over his shoulders before latching his mouth onto your inner thigh. You whimpered as he sucked the tender flesh between his teeth, planting your hands on the arms of the chair, unable to look away as his eyes bore into yours from below.

His progress towards the apex of your thighs was slow, methodical, and he left a trail of marks along the inside of each of your trembling legs along the way. By the time his heated breath at last brushed against your folds you were swollen and dripping with want, your clit peeking out from beneath its protective hood. Jake sank lower onto the floor, seeming to melt at the sight of you, before dragging his tongue through the glistening slick his actions had created.

“Jake!” You gasped out raggedly, fingers scratching at the rough weave of the linen chair, making an audible noise beneath your nails.

Humming against you in mock sympathy, his fingers shifted to spread your folds, exposing your clit to the teasing tip of his tongue. You slumped back in the chair, the last vestiges of your proper cellist’s pose lost with a ragged exhale as one hand threaded through his hair eagerly. Sealing his mouth around your clit, he began to suck rhythmically, flicking his tongue against the sensitive bundle of nerves while applying gentle pressure on the top of your mound. You moaned richly and bucked towards his mouth, ankles locking behind his neck to hold him in place greedily.

“That feel good, darlin’?” He panted cockily against you, making you tremble and whimper eagerly.

“Yes please, Jake, yes…” You babbled and tugged at his hair pleadingly as he chuckled but promptly obliged, mouth returning to your clit to resume his persistent torture as the index finger of his other hand circled your entrance before sinking into your warmth, promptly hooking forward to seek that spongey spot he had so triumphantly located last night in the kitchen.

“Oh fuck!” You howled, hips surging forward and thighs pressing against his cheeks recklessly as his targeting was successful, trembling violently as his throaty chuckle vibrated through your body.

Seemingly undeterred by basic needs such as oxygen, Jake added his middle finger to the effort, thoroughly focused on providing relentless and steady stimulation that was gradually turning your peripheral vision hazy. Each of his actions were ratcheting the tension tighter and tighter in your lower abdomen, your toes curled rigidly behind his head as your chest heaved, each exhale a stream of keens and pleas until your orgasm shattered over you in a blinding white light.

Awareness returned with the sensation of Jake pressing generous, wet kisses to the insides of your still-trembling thighs and you smiled down at him adoringly.

“Mmm get up here, pretty boy I wanna kiss you…” You sighed, untangling your legs from around his shoulders.

He obliged promptly, but not without a self-satisfied chuckle against your lips. You raked your fingers through his hair, planting your feet on the floor as you kissed him deeply, the tang of your release against his lips only making you press closer to him. You could feel the needy length of him pressed between your bodies and it was your turn to hum in mock sympathy.

“Want some help with that, pretty boy?” You licked your lips as you pulled back to drink in the intoxicating green of his eyes, the long-healed scar on his left cheek, his kiss-swollen lips.

“Pretty please, darlin’?” He smirked, the expression ripped off his face as your fingers wrapped around his cock, your teeth sinking into your lower lip as his eyebrows knit up together in pleasure.

You marveled at the velvety soft feel of his skin, contrasted by the firmness of his arousal. Your thumb caressed tip of him before you began to slide your fist along his length, pressing open-mouthed kisses along his jaw and down the corded muscles of his neck.

“You’ve been so generous Jake…” You murmured warmly and you felt him swallow viciously beneath your lips. “So, tell me…what can I do for you…” You ran your teeth along the hinge of his jaw before following it with a swipe of your tongue, enjoying the way his breath hitched in his throat.

He groaned softly in response, lost in the feel of your hand stroking along him, until you halted your movements and pulled back to look at him expectantly. His eyes fluttered open, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Ride me.” His voice was hoarse with arousal, deeper than usual, and combined with his statement made you clench around nothing.

“You want me to ride you?” You confirmed breathily and he groaned, lips crashing into yours hungrily. “Bed?” You gasped out when he finally gave you the opportunity to breathe and he lifted you up, quickly covering the distance across his bedroom to lay on his bed, sitting you on his abdomen as he settled back on the pillows.

You leaned over to reach into the drawer he had retrieved the condom from the night before, grabbing a foil packet and shifting down to sit on his thighs. Unable to resist, you shimmied down onto your stomach, licking at the length of him a few times before carefully unrolling the latex over his cock. Raising up once more, you slid one arm from his t-shirt, intending to remove the garment entirely but he shook his head quickly.

“Leave it on…like my clothes on you…” He croaked and you licked your lips with a nod, opting to leave the one arm free, your breasts peeking out from beneath the folds of fabric across your chest.

Taking his cock in hand, you shifted forward, pressing the tip of him to your entrance before slowly sinking down. You let gravity fill you inch by inch until your pelvis sat snug atop his, chest heaving as your fingers dug into the hollows of his abdominal muscles.

“Christ darlin’ you fit so snug around me…” Jake panted from below you, voice filled with wonderment as his hands caressed your thighs.

Rocking forward at first, grinding your clit into the neatly trimmed hair at the base of his cock, you moaned raggedly, driven to work your thigh muscles to rise up his length only to sink back down, eager to be full of him again. The temptation to clench your eyes shut was great, but you fought against it, wanting to memorize the way Jake’s jaw clenched each time you ground against his hips, the way his eyebrows rose along with your hips, the glassy quality of his eyes as they stared up at you. Your earlier wardrobe choice was rewarded when his hands slid up to cup your easily accessible breasts, his scorching palms kneading at your sensitive flesh, making you flutter around him and drawing a hiss from behind his teeth.

A sheen of sweat covered your body from the effort and Jake courteously planted his feet, offering his thighs for you to lean back against. The new angle had the head of his cock dragging along the front wall of your cunt, making you whimper obscenely, your arousal drenching his pelvis. You gripped his forearms, desperate for an anchor to keep to tied to this plane and keep moving, wanting so very much to make him cum.

“Don’t you dare fight it…” He growled, bucking up against you sharply, making your mouth fall open. “I wanna feel that pretty pussy squeeze me so tight I can’t breathe, darlin’.” He shifted slightly to begin thrusting up against you in earnest, making your head loll back between your shoulders as you wailed nonsensically with each collision of his hips against yours.

“Jake! Ahn! Oh fuck!”

He only grunted in reply, his hold on your breasts firm as he maintained his punishing rhythm, driving the air from your body. Your nails dug into the skin of his arms as his relentless thrusts flung you into release, leaving a matching set of crescent moon shapes in his flesh as you spasmed around his cock ruthlessly. You were vaguely aware of his anguished moan, the haphazard pace he set as he chased his own orgasm as you slumped forward onto his chest bonelessly. His arms wrapped around you, holding you to him so very tightly as he arched from the bed, spilling his release into the protective layer of the condom as he groaned hungrily.

You woke him gently several hours later when the sun was much higher in the sky, pressing gentle kisses across his cheeks and brow. “Jake…” You called warmly, smile widening as his eyelashes fluttered before flitting open to reveal bleary eyes. “Hey…I have to go. I’m waking you up so you don’t think I left without saying goodbye, ok?” You kissed him softly.

“But it’s Sunday….” He muttered bitterly, trying to pull you back into bed, fingers pulling at the clothing he found covering your body.

“I know, the whole orchestra was sure to express their displeasure at the admin arranging headshots for today, but we have no choice. So, I have to go get my hair done and then my make up and yeah…it’s going to take all afternoon. So please relax and enjoy your day off, ok?” You smoothed his hair lovingly, grinning as he nodded. “Is it ok if I leave my cello here? I’ll come get it tomorrow…we’ll have dinner…”

He nodded quickly, swiping his thumb along your bottom lip. “Sounds perfect, darlin’. See you tomorrow.”

Your eyes traced over the features of his face once more, tucking them into the corner of your heart for safe keeping before you leaned in to kiss him deeply, savouring the taste of his mouth.

“Oh…and Jake?” You whispered. “I stole your underwear in payment for the ruined ones.”

“Oh fuck…” He groaned, trying to grab your hips but you were already too far away, walking backwards out the door. You gave him one last wave before heading downstairs to grab your re-wrapped roses and outside to your waiting ride share.

You were asleep in your bed, headshots on file with the program pamphlet designers, makeup washed off, roses proudly on display on your kitchen room table in the worn plastic jug, when you heard the crack of the door as it gave way under the force of a crowbar. The chain was easily ripped from the wall, apparently having not been installed effectively, and the chair you had propped under the doorknob proved ineffective as well. You had come home, knowing that you could not hide at Jake’s house forever. Naively hoping to prevent his entanglement in your father’s failings. The invasion of your apartment was startling but no surprise.

Luca was on you immediately, hauling you from the bed, slamming you down into the chair at the head the kitchen table once he had pulled it out and turned it forty-five degrees.

“Oh, sorry kid, did we wake you?” He sneered inches from your face and your eyes snapped to the doorway to see he had brought a friend – a broad, looming figure you did not recognize.

The unknown man ambled through the apartment, somehow making the one room space feel even smaller, to lay the crowbar, a hammer, and a hunting knife on the table beside you.

“Now. We didn’t get to finish our conversation the other day. I believe we were discussing the consequences” his eyes drifted meaningfully to the tools on the tabletop, “of your refusal to cover your father’s debt.”

His breath was acrid, reeking of tobacco and vodka, burning your nostrils and making your eyes water. You tried to turn your head to the side, but he gripped your chin painfully, forcing you to look at him.

“This is your olive branch.” He spat angrily, sweeping the jug of roses to the floor carelessly. “Your last fucking chance, kid. I would smarten up if I were you…Otherwise Rodney will convince you.”

“I don’t have it.” You ground out stubbornly, trying to ignore the growing ache in your jaw.

He sighed heavily and shoved your head back, letting your neck jerk painfully as he released your jaw suddenly. He nodded to Rodney who performed a ruthless search of the apartment, upending everything in search of items of value. Finding nothing, even the screen of your phone, charging at the table was filled with cracks, the men switched places. Luca moved to stand by the ruined door, holding it shut as Rodney stepped closer and immediately backhanded you, snapping your head in the other direction. The force of the blow nearly pulled you off the chair and flooded your mouth with the metallic taste of blood.

“Pay.” He grunted in a non-descript accent and you glared up at him silently, feeling dampness dripping down your chin and onto your tank top.

The next blow was to your stomach and had you doubling over, wheezing and fighting back a wave of nausea. You nearly slid forward from the chair, but Rodney ‘helpfully’ shoved you back into place, the rungs of the chair biting into your shoulder blades, before he repeated his one-word command.

“I…can’t…” You heaved out, knowing it made no difference to them, but it was still the truth.

There was a moment of silence, a look exchanged between Rodney and Luca, before the larger man in front of you grabbed the inside of your left forearm and slammed the back of your hand into the table. Your eyes widened and a whimper involuntarily shot from your mouth as blows to your body were one thing but your hands…

“Not so brave now, hmmm…” Luca taunted from across the room, and you clenched your eyes shut, pressing your lips together lest some impossible promise fly from them to try and protect your precious hands.

The cold bite of the hunting knife carving into the flesh of your palm had you screaming behind your sealed lips, eyes flashing open to see Rodney had fashioned a crude ‘x’ there.

“Pay.” He grunted a third time and the glare you delivered this time in response was weakened by the tears brimming in your eyes and the quivering in your limbs. He sneered down at you. “X marks the spot, bitch.”

“Rodney wai –” Luca’s rushed order was cut off as the larger man drove the blade through the centre of the mark in your palm, ripping a shriek of pain from your chest.

Your entire being reacted in self-defence, head snapping forward to slam against his while your free hand reached out to claw at any exposed flesh you could reach. Your feet pedaled against his legs, kicking at his knees. His rage erupted in a string of curses and his meaty hand gripped your neck painfully, slamming you back into chair.

“You motherfucking whore, you’ll pay for that!” He snarled and grabbed the hammer, aiming for the handle of the knife still embedded in your palm and struck the end of powerfully, driving the blade through your appendage and into the wood of the tabletop.

Your wail of agony was smothered by his heavy palm, which had recently abandoned your throat, before you began to shake uncontrollably, unable to tear your eyes away from the sight of your ruined hand.

“Jesus fucking Christ Rodney…” Luca hissed, grabbing the man by the collar of his shirt, slapping a business card onto the table. “Give me a call when you’re ready, kid.” He snapped before hauling the man from the apartment, ranting at him that you could not make them any money with a fucked-up hand and that this was why Stefano never let him do anything.

The door to your apartment wavered in the slight breeze, the latch broken – likely to never function again. Warm liquid dripped from the underside from your worn kitchen table, bearing the scars of your childhood and its journey across the country in the back of a U-Haul. The droplets hit the linoleum tile with a soft pat, pat at first, before enough of them accumulated to change the sound to a sharper plink, plink.

Your eyes scanned over the hunting knife driven through your ruined hand and into the wood of the tabletop, the blood pooling in your palm.

That was that then. There would be no coming back from this, you reasoned. Music had been the driving force, and only constant, of your entire life. With two rage-filled hammer blows that goon had taken it away from you. You could feel yourself growing colder, feel the strength ebbing from your body. The sultry temptation to just go to sleep licked at your consciousness. Just let the struggle end. As your eyes fell shut, however, the image of a bleary-eyed, freshly wakened, blonde, Texan, pretty boy flooded your mind and made you inhale sharply.

Because you had more than just music in your life. And if you gave up now, Jake would be so very disappointed in you. As the bitter taste of fear belatedly flooded your mouth, panic setting in at the gravity of your situation, the fingers of your free hand were reaching for your phone, fumbling across the fractured screen to call Lieutenant Commander Jacob Seresin of their own volition. You barely had time to register that you had called him before the line started ringing. The jolt of adrenaline started your right knee bouncing and you irritably swiped at a stream of warm liquid trying to invade the vision of your left eye.

A groggy voice came on the line midway through the fourth ring and you barely let him get out his garbled greeting before you interjected firmly –

“Jake…!” Your tone was filled with naked fear, causing a similar reaction that memory of his face had stirred in you, a sharp inhale sounding over the line.

“Where are you?” He replied, sounding completely alert.

You could hear the rustle of his bedding, the jangle of his belt, the thump of his feet on the stairs, and the door of his truck opening and closing.

“My apartment….at the table…” You clarified as though it was not a one-room studio.

The ignition roared to life, and you heard the tires squeal a little in protest as he pulled out of the garage, relief flooding your veins as you could hear him coming to you.

“Door’s open…. And…Jake? No…cops, ok?” Your voice was shaky and hollow as you were finding it harder to hold your head up.

“Stay on the phone with me, darlin’” He barked out sharply, the engine of his truck thrumming angrily in the background as he pressed the pedal down aggressively, forcing the vehicle to speed up.

“Jake I’m tired…it’s cold…” You whined, the shock starting to wear off and pain beginning to gnaw at various points on your body – most notably your hand.

“You stay awake!” He shouted your name, and you jerked up, startled by the volume and intensity of it, looking around your apartment in dazed confusion.

“I’m awake…” You slurred in protest, head snapping to the door as he burst in, panting from his sprint up the stairs.

“Oh darlin’…” He whispered under his breath, easily stepping over the mess Luca and Rodney had left in their wake, hurrying to your side and looking over your face with a deep frown.

His eyes drifted to the tabletop, to your hand, and he swore viciously. He ended the call with your phone and quickly placed another on speaker phone, asking emergency services for an ambulance, pressing a finger to your lips when you started to protest.

“Just paramedics, I promise…” He shushed, setting his phone on your lap, before laying his forearm down the front of his thigh, unbuckling his belt and gripping the buckle, swiftly pulling it over his arm and out of the loops. You blinked sluggishly, the effectiveness of his movements would have, in any other setting, deeply affected you.

All the while, he was authoritatively discussing your situation with the dispatcher on the line, and you were stunned to learn you had a gash on your eyebrow, a split lip, and marks around your throat. You had been so focused on your hand…The painful pinch of the leather of his belt around your forearm cutting off the blood supply to your hand interrupted your thoughts and made you howl. You tried to squirm away, still very much in fight or flight.

“I’m so sorry darlin’, I’m so sorry I just have to stop the bleeding, alright?” He kept his grip firm on the makeshift tourniquet while wrapping his other arm around yours as he knelt down in front of you, threading his fingers through yours.

You gripped them tightly, leaning into the warmth of his body trying to steal every bit of his heat. The sound of sirens started out as distant, steadily growing closer.

“They found me…” You whispered tearfully against his shoulder. “Jake how did they find me so fast…I thought I’d have more time…how did he rack up debts again so fast…Oh I’m so sorry I was so selfish and I…”

“Shhhh easy darlin’, I’ve got you alright?” He soothed gently, interrupting your rambling, his own voice sounding more than a little shattered by emotion. “Help is coming. They’re almost here…”

Read Part Five

Extrication in G Major Masterlist

Credit: The San Diego Union-Tribune

Tag List: @mizzzpink

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