#the couch console charging cord

[eat-rock]

moodboard for my dog who ate the ethernet cord yesterday

[toxicanonymity]

Dude I miss nw!Joel. How’s my man doing?

Night Drives (one shot)

1k words / creepy!joel x fem!reader / master

Warnings/Notes: standalone. creep. c. 2018. non-outbreak AU. Drug use. dubcon. unsafe PIV. Night walks list. request from @alloftheboysivelovedbefore. 

Imagine you’re pretty drunk from a girls night out and you’re talking on the phone with a friend while waiting on your Uber which will be an SUV, middle aged driver, kinda cute.  Guy pulls up in an SUV, rolls down his window, “lookin’ for a ride?” You get in, still talking on the phone, battery getting low.  The driver is wearing PJ pants. Good for him, you think. 

The driver brazenly checks you out as you buckle your seatbelt.   “Well damn, look at you.”  Unprofessional but you’re flattered.  “Where am I  takin’ ya?  Home, I hope?”  He has the address.  Does he really need to know if it’s where you live?   You don’t answer, you keep talking on the phone with your friend, not paying attention to anything else.  He lights up a joint. You don’t really mind, even though this is the sketchiest Uber driver ever.  

Finally, your phone dies. The driver starts hitting on you, eating you alive with his eyes, draping his hand over the center console, not quite touching you but in your space.  “Like to party?” he asks. 

You’re drunk enough to play along.  “Yeah, I guess.”  

"Knew you were a bad girl." He tries to hand you the joint but you don’t take it.  He checks you out again. "Damn, you're hot,” he says.  You’re becoming more attracted to him as the drive goes on.  He says, “How’d I get this lucky? Damn.”  His fingertips start to graze your bare thigh and you don’t bother tugging your dress down or pushing him off.  It’ll be over soon, you’ll never see him again, no harm in a little flirtation.  “Right place, right time I guess," he mutters.

-

Next thing you know, he’s parking the car.  Not at your house. 

“Where are we?” you ask, confused.  

“This is home, baby.”  He turns off the car.  “C’mon, let’s have a drink.  Got some real good shit inside, too.”  

You look confused.  “What’d you say your name was?”

“Joel.  And I don’t need yours, ‘less you want me sayin’ it later.” 

The blood drains from your face as you realize this is not your Uber driver.  “You’re not Uber, are you?” 

“Shit, no.  I look like an uber driver to you?” 

Now you’re screwed.  Your phone is dead, you have no idea where you are.  He pretends to be sympathetic about the confusion and says he wishes he could help but he has a flip phone and it’s dead, too.  He doesn’t have a car charger. But you’re welcome to come inside and use his computer so y’all can get some directions.  You can have a drink while you wait.  

-

Against your better judgment, you go into the basement with him and he secures both locks, making your stomach turn.  He motions to the couch for you to sit down.  He finds a cord for your phone instead of his, a welcome surprise that puts you at ease.  He also getas out that good weed he was talking about and brings you an IPA.  You sit down on the couch while you wait for it to charge, and he sits next to you, far too close, with his arm across the back of the couch behind you. The basement is dimly lit and the situation couldn’t be more sketchy, and yet something is stirring between your legs.

He lights up the joint then puts it up to your mouth and you accept. “Attagirl,” he says. 

Your arousal grows as his hand drifts to your thigh and lightly strokes your skin.  

As though reading your mind, he says, “Sugar, don’t worry ‘bout what you should be doin’.  Go on, drink your beer.”  You take a sip, you’re starting to sober up way faster than you want to.   His fingers stroke higher on your thigh, lifting up your dress.  “We can do whatever we want,”  he says in a low rumble. 

He leans closer and the hand behind you makes its way to your bare shoulder.  You put the beer back down.  The hand on your thigh creeps to your inner thigh.  Before you know it, he’s nudging your panties aside feeling how wet you are for him.  “Fuck yeah,” he whispers.  “God, you’re fuckin’ hot.”  

-

He leans over and kisses you, then keeps leaning, the force of his kiss sending you down on your back.  He’s a good kisser.  His upper body is against yours.  Before you know it he’s all the way on top of you, waistband pulled down, with his massive wood grinding against your soaked panties and you’re moaning into his mouth.  

“That’s right, baby, all yours.” He pushes two fingers inside you.  “Hell yeah, that’s what I’m talkin’ 'bout.  You let him take your panties off, hungry for his cock, and when you feel his tip at your entrance, he can’t be inside you fast enough.  He grunts as he impales you with his log, stiff member, and holy shit does he feel good.  

“Fuck yeah, baby.  Damn you feel good.”  He really, really does, too.  Far too good.  Upsettingly good.  He looks good too, damnit.  His arms bulge out of his t-shirt as he hovers over you, slamming his thick cock into you.  He fucks you nice and hard.  “Love how you take this cock, baby.”  He speeds up a little and you start to moan more vocally.  “Hell yeah,” he pants. 

He really knows what he’s doing. He wraps one of your legs around him and keeps pounding you, kissing you, sucking your neck. Next thing you know, you’re coming. “Yeah, come on this cock.”  You come hard, then he puts you in a mating press and pulses inside you.  You don’t even move to stop him. You take your pills pretty good, anyway.   

By the time you recover, your phone is charged and you’re actually not that far from home, it turns out.  You let him give you a ride home for real this time.  The whole thing is surreal.  

-

I know what happens after NW pt 5, I just have to write it (clown emoji).  I guess I’m having fun exploring his history as a menace meanwhile. 

as always thank you for reading & engaging! y'all are the best.

-

All joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose  @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @lokanda @blackvelveteen1339   @manazo @wolvesandvampires  @taeslarityy @str84pedro @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine

NW: @tehweeana @cutesyscreenname @ele-meno-p

[bnhabadass]

Living in the house with just you and Shigaraki was interesting. The first morning off from class, you wished him a good morning as he came down to get breakfast and he narrowed his eyes at you, almost as if he forgot you’d still be there.

For the most part he just stayed in his room, violently gaming like always. The only difference was that the volume was turned up much higher than usual and he appeared to lose his cool more now that the house was mostly empty.

At one point you went upstairs to let him know you were getting takeout and see if he wanted anything, but once you heard the words, “DIE, YOU PUSSY NAZIS” come from his room, you realized that leaving him alone would be for the best.

Your next day alone with him was a little better. You managed to make some conversation and even bond over some asshole professors the two of you have had. Later that day, your laptop charger unfortunately stopped working. It wasn’t that big a deal since you had to go to work and would buy a new one after your shift, but you figured you’d ask if Shigaraki could lend you his just for an hour or so.

“It’s up in my room,” he said, not looking up at you from the couch. “You know which one.”

You made your way up the stairs and tentatively opened up his bedroom door. Shigaraki, being almost like the leader of your little house, had the largest room available. After all, he’s the one who apparently found the house and takes care of all the bills.

Surprised was the least you could say of how you felt about his sense of interior design. You knew Shigaraki was an otaku but not to this extent! The walls were covered with wall scrolls and posters of anime girls with water balloon sized tits. You recognized some of the girls from anime you’ve seen before and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t disturb you. Inside the shelves which his TV stood on, you could see every kind of gaming system you could think of. PS2, PS4, Nintendo Switch, Nintendo Wii, Nintendo 64. It felt like a museum if a museum smelled like dirty gym socks, cheetos dust, and Head & Shoulders shampoo.

A few handheld consoles were scattered on his bed next to an open hentai magazine which you shuddered at. On his desk, next to his gaming PC, was the laptop you’ve seen him do his school work on. Grabbing the charge cord, you darted out of the room and swore that you’d never go back there again.

“You look like you just saw a fucking ghost,” he remarked when you came back downstairs.

“I think I just did.”

It wasn’t bad living alone with him. For the most part you stayed out of each other’s way like usual, but you had a feeling that he was making a more conscious effort to socialize since your other housemates weren’t there to keep you company.

It was on your third and last day being completely alone with him when you got the call that would change everything.

The two of you were sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee and laughing at some video of stunt fails that Spinner had sent him. Your phone rang and you asked Shigaraki to pause it.

“Hello,” you said, answering the unknown number.

“Hi, may I please speak to (L/n) (Y/n),” the voice on the other end spoke.

“Hi, that’s me. May I ask who is calling?”

“This is Saito Himari from the office of administration on campus. We have been reviewing the application you submitted at the beginning of the semester for the administration assistant position.”

Your stomach dropped. You had forgotten all about ever filling out that application. When you didn’t hear back after two weeks like they said they would, you just assumed you didn’t get the job.

The woman on the line continued. “Unfortunately, the person who was originally given the job has decided to drop out and the position has opened up. We were wondering if you would be interested in interviewing for this position in his place.”

You could feel your cheekbones lift up on thier own. This was incredible. If you got this position then you could quit your shitty diner job, maybe even your phonathon one too. “I would love to interview for the position.”

“Wonderful! Our earliest possible interview date is next Monday at 2:00 p.m. Does that time work for you?”

You had to think for a minute. “I actually have a class at that time.”

“That’s all right. What about next Thursday at 4:00?”

Thursday at 4:00? Technically you started your diner shift then, but you’re sure you could swap shifts with Shiozaki. “Yes,” you said. “Thursday at 4:00 works for me.”

“Perfect. We’ll see you then, (L/n).”

“Thank you.” And then you hung up. You couldn’t contain the bright and almost painful smile that spread across your face.

Shigaraki cleared his throat and you jumped. You had forgotten he was even there. “What was that about?”

With an excited grin and a shrill voice you couldn’t contain if you tried, you blurted out, “I got a job interview!!!”

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

When Toga came home the next day, she threw herself around you in a big hug and squeezed even tighter when you told her the good news.

You caught up on what she had been up to for the last three days, which mainly consisted of dropping all of her old stuff off at home and bringing back some new things: weapons and knives she found at mom and pop shops near her hometown. After catching up and telling her you had to get ready for your shift at work, she texted Dabi.

Knife Bitch 🔪: We’re having a party when everyone gets back on Saturday.

Dabi looked the text over while blowing smoke out of his nose. He had gotten a new piercing while he was on break, a septum ring, and the smoke irritated it a bit.

Dabs 🔥: what for?

Knife Bitch 🔪: (Y/n) got a job interview and we’re celebrating!!

He read the text over again and again while flicking cigarette ash onto the white carpet in his father’s bedroom. It’s just like Toga had told him earlier in the semester. You weren’t like them. You were a goody-two-shoes, hard working, Dean’s List student. So why was it that they were celebrating something that was bound to happen eventually? You didn’t belong in their cohort of misfits, and you didn’t belong anywhere near Dabi’s world.

He put his cigarette out on his father’s bedside table before standing up to stretch his arms and reply.

Dabs 🔥: something came up at home. won’t be back until late Sunday.

Knife Bitch 🔪: Boo, you whore :P

This was good news. You’d finally be getting out of your shitty diner job situation. So why was it that the thought of you moving on to a better life made Dabi want to crumble?

He stalked out of his father’s room and grabbed his jacket and car keys.

“Where are you going?” his sister called from the kitchen.

“Out.” He wasn’t sure why he felt so nauseous after texting with Toga, but the one thing that never failed to cure his stomach aches were booze and a hookup.

––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––

Booze and a hookup did not cure his stomach ache this time around. He lay in bed at some chick’s apartment, he never did bother to learn her name, staring up at her ceiling fan and the way the blades turned round and round like a helicopter.

The entire time she was bouncing on his cock, all he could think about was you, your fleeting laugh, and how angry you were with him after your last real conversation. You had every right to be mad at him, sure. But at the same time, he couldn’t understand why you wouldn’t listen to him to stay away from that Keigo guy. He’s a heartbreaker, an asshole, just like Dabi, and getting involved with that kind of guy only leads to trouble.

That’s why he would stay away from you and alienate you as much as possible. And he wouldn’t go to that party. Who knows what he would do to you if either of you were surrounded by alcohol.

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[imaginesandinserts]

Irreverent Pt. 49 - Fate

Title: Irreverent Pt. 49 - Fate

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Reader Rating: M Words: ~4K

A/N: Flashback Chapter set between Chapter 44: Wasteland and Chapter 45: Je t’aime. 

Irreverent Series Masterlist

Contrary to popular belief, Aaron Hotchner's favorite place was not his oak-lined office at Quantico. No, his favorite place in DC was the Moongate Garden at the Smithsonian, preferably at sunset. It was the place he'd first appreciated the cherry blossom trees in full bloom, it was where he'd decided on George Washington for law school, and it had been the place he'd gone to, to await Rossi's call that he'd gotten the position on the BAU.

You didn't know this though. He'd never told you about the Moongate Garden at the Smithsonian. He'd never told anyone, not even Haley. He felt oddly protective of it - as though not telling anyone about it somehow preserved how special it was.

Aaron woke up on the morning of November 2nd to a cold bed, which was unusual to say the least. You only woke up early for work, and that too usually only after he'd forced you to. You'd told him that this problem only arose once the two of you got together. It was hard to want to leave bed when he made it warm with his presence.

He could hear some sounds coming from the kitchen - it sounded like you and Jack were already awake and making breakfast. He drags himself out of bed and looks towards the nightstand for his phone, but sees only the empty charging cord. Frowning, he looks around but doesn't see it anywhere else either.

He decides to go downstairs and see if you'd seen it anywhere. The scene that greets him is - chaotic to say the least. The entire living room ceiling is crowded with floating balloons and the kitchen is a mess. Both you and Jack look up to see him standing by the island - Jack was in the midst of pouring a glass of orange juice while you flipped pancakes - blueberry by the look of it.

You recover first. "Happy Birthday!" you exclaim, turning off the stove as you flip the last of the pancakes onto the serving platter.

Jack puts down the juice container and runs over to hug his father. "Happy Birthday, Dad!" he smiles wide, looking up at Aaron as his father hugs him back.

"You didn't have to go to so much trouble, you know," he says, gesturing towards the balloons and breakfast. He wasn't used to a fuss for his birthday.

You roll your eyes as you walk over to him, kissing him lightly on the lips for Jack's sake. His real birthday present was sitting in a small black bag in the back of your closet.

"Of course I did," you grin, as both him and Jack grab a seat at the island, Jack handing his father the glass of juice. You grabbed the pancakes and syrup before settling down on Jack's other side.

Jack had helped you plan out Aaron's birthday. The two of you had decided that breakfast followed by a Star Wars marathon with him and Jack was the perfect way to spend the day. You'd arranged for lunch to be delivered for them later, so after breakfast you quickly cleaned up and got ready while Jack dragged Aaron to the couch. You'd grabbed Aaron's work phone early on. There would be no cases today - not if you could help it.

As you got back downstairs, Aaron raised an eyebrow at you from his position on the couch. "Where do you think you're going?" he asks, gesturing at the fact that you're all dressed up while both him and Jack were still in their pajamas.

"Just some errands I have to run," you reply, keeping your tone casual. You knew he'd see right through it, but you weren't exactly about to admit to everything either.

He narrows his eyes in suspicion, a small smile betraying his otherwise serious face. Jack was still setting up for the movie, so Aaron gets up to walk you to the door. He has an inkling that something more is afoot as he walks through the dangling ribbons from all of the balloons.

"What've you got planned?" he asks, leaning against the door and blocking your exit route, just out of view of the living room.

You ignore his question, grabbing your keys. He grabs your waist tightly as you approach the door, causing your breath to hitch. You watch as his face breaks into a smirk at your reaction. You're wearing flat shoes so he looms over you entirely, pulling you closer. You turn your head to make sure Jack can't see, before meeting his eyes again. If that look was anything to go off of, your little outfit for tonight was sure to be discarded very quickly.

"Go. Spend the day with your son," you say sternly, going up on your toes to place a quick kiss to his cheek. He turns his head and captures your lips with his instead, hands moving from your waist to your back, nearly lifting you and leaving you breathless. You have to stop yourself from jumping up and wrapping your legs around his waist. You let him kiss you for a moment more, before drawing away and ducking under his arm to get to the door.

You give him a light push towards the living room, drawing the door shut behind you.

By four o'clock, Aaron and Jack had made it through three movies, lunch, and made a significant dent in the popcorn and candy you'd left. He reckoned old age was making him soft, since Jack was already on his third candy bar of the day and he had yet to say anything about it. His son had grabbed the third one hesitantly, glancing over at his father. Upon no objection, he'd quickly opened it and taken a large bite. Aaron had to suppress a laugh at that.

He was just about to pop in the next movie when the doorbell rang and he went to answer the door to Prentiss, who barged in without an invite and called for Jack. Aaron watched, confused, as his son greeted her and then raced upstairs to supposedly get ready.

"You should get ready too, Hotch," Prentiss says, making herself at home in the living room.

"What am I getting ready for, exactly?" He wasn't sure what was going on or why Prentiss was here but there was obviously a plan in place, given how his son had bounded upstairs to get dressed.

"Just wear something nice, casual. She's wearing red, if it matters," she smirks at him. The two of you matching was a constant source of mockery for the team.

Accepting that he wouldn't be getting any answers out of her, he goes upstairs to shower and get ready. He decides to wear the burgundy polo that you'd bought for him a few weeks ago. Apparently it was his color.

When he walks downstairs, he's greeted by you, dressed in a deep red dress that hugs your body. You definitely hadn't been wearing that when you left.

"Now will you tell me what the plan is?" he asks as he reaches the landing.

You shake your head no. It was too fun keeping him in the dark about this. Surprising Aaron was difficult and you knew you weren't actually pulling anything over on him. He was sure to at least suspect what he would be walking into tonight, but there was a small part of tonight that you thought would at least be somewhat unexpected.

"Turn around," you instruct, whipping a blindfold out of seemingly nowhere.

He raises an eyebrow at you, lips curling up in amusement as he turns around per your instructions. "I didn't realize the kinky part of the night was going to start so early."

Shaking your head with a laugh, you tie the blindfold over his eyes, securing a knot tightly at the back of his head. "Alright, that should stay. Grab my hand."

He turns back around and finds your soft waiting hand, grasping it tightly in his own and knitting your fingers through his. "If I trip and fall it is entirely your fault," he quips, lips still upturned as he allows you to lead him out the door and slowly down the front steps, taking them one at a time.

"Watch it. We wouldn't want that pretty face of yours to suddenly meet the concrete."

When you reach your car, you open the passenger door for him and help him in, making sure he's safely buckled in before going around to the other side. He looked quite adorable, seated there with the blindfold on, sitting with such an air of ease. Once you're in, you lean over, quickly capturing his lips with your own. He starts at your sudden touch, but is quick to reciprocate, tongue peaking out and brushing over your lower lip, begging your mouth open as he captures the lower lip between both of his. The gentle sucking sensation has your stomach swooping, a low moan escaping you as you ignore the middle console digging into your stomach while you're leaned over across it to get to him.

You pull back, his mouth following yours as far as possible until he's stopped by the seatbelt locking him in place. The sheer frustration on his face, brought upon by such a simple thing as a seatbelt, forces a laugh out as you gently push him back to be seated properly in his seat despite his protests.

"We can't have sex in the car right now, Aaron." You shake your head, buckling your own seatbelt into place.

"I wasn't suggesting we have sex in the car. The house is right there. We could just head back in."

"Hmm, tempting. But no. We have plans tonight."

"Ah yes, the surprise birthday par–" He stops, having realized that he'd given away that he already knows that all of your friends are awaiting his arrival at some undisclosed location.

You chuckle lightly, reaching over and squeezing his hand that's resting on the center console. "It's alright. I figured you knew about that already."

"Great. Can I take the blindfold off then?" He looks at you with a small pout, thinking you'll just give in.

"Do you know where the party is?" you ask, eyes narrowed, not that he could see. Emily better not have given it away when she came to grab Jack.

There's a silence before he finally gives in. "…No."

"The blindfold stays on."

With that said, you pull out of the driveway and onto the street, towards your destination.

Aaron tried to mentally keep track of the turns you're taking at first. A left and then two rights. Then onto the freeway ramp. He can only be sure of the first few exits and after that he's in the dark about where you're headed. Which was exactly your intention. Thus the blindfold.

You've turned the music to a playlist with any song with the word Birthday in it. There aren't a lot and it isn't long until Birthday Sex is playing, at which he looks over at you expectantly. "Is that going to be happening tonight?" There's some amount of humor in his voice as he asks, his shoulders actually moving along to the beat of the music unconsciously.

You look over at him, taking in the smile playing at his mouth. "Sex? Probably. If you behave," you tell him, turning off the freeway finally.  

He snorts. As if you'd hold out on sex with him on his birthday. As if you'd ever held off. Well, that wasn't entirely true he supposed. You took far too much pleasure out of driving him insane throughout the day when you could. Putting it off again and again until he becomes so wholly overcome with need and built up frustration that he simply couldn't wait any longer. That tactic had resulted in some pretty sordid sex late night in the gun range a couple of months back. You were both turned on by weapons and excellent marksmanship. Figures.

You pulled into a parking lot and stop the car, before quickly running over to the other side so you could help Aaron before he hurts himself trying to get out by himself. Grasping his hand once more, you start to lead him down the pathway, your stomach flip-flopping nervously as you did.

Aaron can feel a light breeze blowing around and hear the swirl of leaves being carried around across the pavement. Your hand guides him along as he walks beside you, somehow knowing better than to joke anymore. There's a giddy energy that's settled between the two of you and he has an odd feeling that whatever this is – where ever you've brought him – it's important.

You lead him down the pathway and when you near your final destination, you stop him, turning to grab both of his hands and walking backwards slowly.

Aaron is careful to walk only where you lead him, subconsciously aware enough of his surroundings to know to be careful, as the two of you carefully take the last few steps, your hands guiding him. His heart rate picks up when you stop and gently lower your grasped hands, releasing his. He can feel his skin breaking out into goose bumps, an eerily peaceful quiet blanketing the two of you.

"Okay, you can take it off now."

Your hushed voice adds to his strange feeling as he lifts both arms, nimbly untying the knot at the back of his head and removing the cloth. He blinks as he takes it all in. The light of an approaching sunset, like spilled honey, coating the entire scene with its flaxen rays. He turns, steadily in place. You'd brought him down the walkway, to the center, the two of you standing in the middle of the small pink granite island surrounded by the black waters of the pool. The trees are bare at the moment, having shed all of their leaves for the season, but he could imagine them in full bloom – pink and full, enveloping the grounds with their sweet scent. At either corner, he can see the two arched granite moongates, adorning the garden with their presence.

He'd never been here when it was entirely unoccupied before. He does a full turn, taking it all in. As he comes back to face you, he can see you looking up at him, waiting and allowing him to truly bask in the moment – impress the memory of this into his spirit.

"You're probably wondering why I brought you here," you start, anxiously watching his expression, doing your best to focus and also pick up on any minute changes in Aaron as you do. At his short nod, you continue. "When I first came to DC, during my first month of training, I sort of stumbled upon it while trying to find a place to eat lunch one weekend. It was late summer and there were so many people here, but I managed to steal a bench after a few minutes and I just sat there and watched people. I think I sat there for hours, honestly. It was like, I sat down and I felt weirdly at peace, I guess?" Your voice gives away just how nervous you are, explaining this to him. How you're second guessing bringing him here in the first place. It was probably stupid. However, Aaron just nods again, so you carry on. "Then I just kept coming back, I guess. When you called me that day, after my interview, I was here. Me being here when I got that call from you – I suppose it felt like a sign of some sort. Not then, but later, when I let go of all the stuff with my father. It was like the universe had tried to tell me that this could be a place where I could be happy."

Aaron had listened raptly as you explained, a tight bubble growing in his chest as you spoke and explained how this place – his place – meant a lot to you. Because it was also your place. He reaches for your hands once more, leaning down and grasping them warmly within his own before brushing his lips against your plush, waiting ones. Your eyes flutter shut as he kisses you gently, a subtle symphony of feeling coursing like energy, flowing from you to him.

"You wanted to share this with me?" he murmurs, drawing away barely an inch, his breathe mingling with yours.

"It's special to me and I wanted to share it with you because you're part of the reason why it's so very special." Your lips touch his as you explain and he resists the urge to echo them back to you. This place is indeed exceptionally special.

He kisses you again, doing his best to make sure this is a memory that he will be able to recall with complete ease. The garden, the breeze, the fading sunlight, and you.

The two of you slowly meander back to the garden and find a bench to sit on to take in the rest of the sunset. From the back gardens, Aaron can hear the beginnings of a crowd. You tell him that the two of you aren't expected for a while. That you can remain in your small oasis until the sun goes down.

"Thank you for sharing this with me." His thumb rubs circles on your hand as you sit side by side on the oak bench. Above you, the azure sky gives way to the oncoming dusk - amber and gold overlayed with rose and lilac, all interlaced together in delicate harmony.

You hum and tuck into his side as he brings an arm to wrap around your shoulders.

"Can I share something with you?" he asks, unsure if now was the exact right time. The thought has been rattling in the back of his mind for some time now and this, you and him, here and now, he wants to dispel any ideas that might ever contradict this reality. The only reality that he wants.

You nod, pressing a quick kiss to his shoulder as you do, lips hovering by the fabric of his shirt, before looking up to meet his eyes.

"I might be wrong about this, but I think you have this idea – incorrect as it might be – that us being together is a direct product of Haley's absence."

You suck in a breath, not having expected him to have caught on to, or address this. Ever.

Aaron can see a slight tremble to your hands, clasped tightly in your lap. Your eyes wide as you stare at him, tethered to his, unable to look away if you tried.

"I want you to know, that you and me – I would've fallen for you no matter what. Whether or not Haley was around, whether or not she and I were still together, I would've fallen for you entirely. Regardless of anything." The confession isn't followed by guilt. Merely a sense of rightness creating a growing hum of warmth in his chest as he watches you.

You're unsure how to respond, blinking up at him to try and take it all in. "You're far too honorable for anything to have happened if you and Haley were still together." He would've never betrayed her like that. It went against his very nature.

He smiles slightly at your statement. You're not wrong either. "Maybe. But you should know, even she saw it. How utterly in love with you I was. She saw it long before I ever did."

You lick your lips, your heart beating rapidly at everything he'd laid out. So plainly. As though it was just that simple. As though there could be no contradiction. As though there would be no universal karmic retribution sought for saying something so deeply and darkly and wholly truthful.

"I'm telling you this, because I never want you to doubt what we have. You are not a consolation prize or the understudy that's filling in." His other hand reaches out and grasps both of yours. Calloused palms to soft skin. Covering them in an embrace that felt so very intimate despite its innocence.

It's nearly sickening how well he knows how you work. What you think. Because being loved – at the right time by the right person in the right place – the serendipity of it all like a fluke – that's never been meant for you.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering before pressing once more. "I am in love with you, sweetheart. Wholly, fully, completely in love with you. Only you."

You could feel the weight of his words. Aaron would have loved you no matter what. That was the gospel truth of the matter. You nod – trying to believe him – compelling the feeling of being loved by him to permeate through all of you. Entering your body, perfusing through your senses, penetrating your soul. Because if being loved by him was mere happenstance – a stroke of good luck accidentally bestowed upon you – you'll take it and run. Run before anyone could catch you with something so precious. Before it could be taken away.

The two of you sit on that bench until the sun goes down, before standing to walk towards the back lawn where your friends were waiting for you. Aaron allows you to lead him closer to the din – the voices and noise of the crowd getting louder and louder as you approach. He makes sure your hand is always in his as the two of you are bombarded by people – shouts of Happy Birthday, drinks thrust into your hands, and a happy little boy rushing up to you both, excited as can be.

*------------*

Fate was an odd concept for him, someone so used to holding the right cards no matter who shuffled the deck. Fate implied that everything that happens – from the falling of a leaf to the birth of a child – was all predetermined by some unknown, invisible, unquestionable higher power. It suggested that there was no purpose to anything he tried and failed to accomplish – the people who met death because he hadn't been quick enough to the draw, the killers who went free because he fell short in drawing the correct profile, friends who'd fallen by his side because he hadn't been able to cover them. Fate insinuated that his son was always destined to lose his mother, no matter how hard he tried to protect him from the leviathans that roamed the earth. Fate was his one constant adversary through it all.

Perhaps it spoke to the double-sided nature of a true foe, because when it came to you, Fate was his one true friend. His solace against the persistent fear that he might lose you. Worse still, never have found you at all. Fate brought you to him, your presence blessed by providence itself. Had it been left to him – weak, fallible, human, him  – there was a chance that it might not have worked out.

When it came to you – only you – he had to trust that Fate had brought you to him, and always would.

[ficsnroses]

Mini Fic #2

Meant to be a drabble, ended up being a little more!

Prompt : “You had a bad day, so we’re taking a nap together.”

Pairing : John Wick x Reader.

Fluff fluff fluff! Enjoy ❤️

Trudging your feet along the porch steps, you groan, feeling a tepid rain pepper down, lightly dowsing your rather expensive work blouse. The day had proved long; endless meetings, paired gallingly with mishaps that just didn’t seem to end. You looked forward to finally being free, welcomed by the comfort of your home, knowing the secure, consoling arms of your boyfriend await just inside. With an exasperating sigh, you unlock the door, barely managing to haul in, as John’s dog pads to your feet, tail wagging all about, kissing you hello, dark matted fur rubbing against your legs as he pounces.

“Hi baby,” You coo to him. “Careful, boy. Mommy’s tired, alright?” you giggle, watching his ears perk as you speak. Shimmying your pencil heels off, with your coat hung nicely next to John’s on the coat hanger, you walk into the kitchen, only to be greeted by your handsome boyfriend, just finishing his routine cup of coffee.

“Hey, beautiful.” John smiles, walking closer. His suave eyes examine your weary frame, and the natural frown spattering your lips. “Long day?” He empathizes, a delicate kiss placed a top your mellifluous hair. Meeting his honey lips in a soft kiss, you sigh against his them, feeling his stout fingers sneak just the hem of your blouse, gently soothing your back as you rest your head to his shoulder. 

“Ugh, I had the worst day.”

He chuckles nonchalantly, deep voice a musical in your ears after the rummaging noise of the day. “Alright, tell me all about it.” He articulates. Moving to the fridge, you fish out a bottle of Rose, pouring yourself a glass, his simpering smile watching your features move.

“Isn’t it a bit early for that?” Leaning against the counter, his arms cross in front of him, resting on the counter top, watching you.

“John, I didn’t eat lunch today because someone else decided to get to it before me, and I missed my coffee break because two of my staff were late. Forgive me if I want a glass before dinner, alright?”

John chortles, coming up behind, placing a brief kiss to your cheek. “Someone’s grumpy.” Opening the fridge, taking a look at its contents, he speaks. “Want me to make you a snack? I can make a proper meal later but it’s a bit early-”

“It was like the world was totally against me today.” You’d cut him off, before he could finish. “I mean, my phone has been at 20% all day because it didn’t charge over night. I think you accidentally pulled the cord out before you came to bed.” You see him frown, quick to reassure him. “It’s alright though, it’s not your fault. But that wasn’t even it. It was windy out the one day I wear my hair down, so I looked a mess.” As you continue to rant, John moves, taking your hand in his for you to follow him to the living room couch.

“That’s rough. What else happen?” He asks, giving you a few empathetic glances. His thumb holds the back of your palm, rubbing ever so lightly, calming you. You loved that about him; the way he showed he cared, and would offer you a listening ear whenever you needed it most.

He was your number one supporter, your best friend, most important for sure.

“And then, my stupid presentation wouldn’t open. It was the worst, it took me like 30 minutes to get it going and the entire staff was probably so annoyed with me.” Frowning, you continue. “You know I hate feeling like people are upset with me.” You grimace.

You watch John as he sets himself down on the couch, laying down with his head supported by the couch ledge. Although curious as to what he was doing, you carry on your bluster. 

“And then, on the way home I saw an injured bird. It was limping across the sidewalk and I wanted to help it but-” Watching John tap his chest, as his other hand still holds yours, you wonder aloud. “John, what are you doing?”

Pulling you down, he urges you to lay on him. “You had a bad day, so we’re taking a nap.” You catch him channel one of his signature, goofy smiles your way, eyes beaming a dewy glow.

Smiling uncontrollably, you oblige, laying your frame on top of him, your entire body weight rested on his body. Feeling his arms come around you, holding you tight to his chest secure, you giggle. “A nap? It’s 5:00PM, babe.”

John’s chest shakes, his deep voice flooding your ears. “You deserve it. Once we get up, how about I draw you a nice bath with those lavender bath salts you like?”

Pressing a kiss to his chest as he holds you, breathing in the scent of your coconut shampoo, you smile. “Will you be joining me in this bath?”

“Of course.” He replies, pressing a kiss to your hair. You feel his arms tighten around you, his hands smoothing up and down your back, the rhythm of his heart beat calms you as you listen close, ear pressed to his chest.

“By the way…” You hear his gravelly voice, a velvet symphony in your ears. “Your hair does look kinda funny today.”

Laughing, you nudge his chest. “John! It was the wind, alright?”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” He teases. Moving your head up to look at him, you smile, watching his golden gaze find yours, his precious smile sending piercing shocks of warmth inside you. 

“Let’s forget about it, yeah? We can watch your favourite show later?” The pads of his fingers gently massage your scalp as he holds you.

Nodding, the relaxation prohibits you from using your voice, eyes falling shut. 

“And after that...” His calloused fingers sneak up your blouse, lightening touch grazing your bare skin, fingers brushing over the hook of your bra. You manage a small chuckle, nudging him with your eyes rolling. 

“Not now, Jonathan.”

“Later.” He sneers, placing a kiss to your temple.

As your fatigued head falls back to his chest, and your drowsy eyes find it hard to stay open, wrapped warm in the embrace of your love, you feel yourself relax, drifting slow. With his whisper, quiet into the silence of the room, you hear him coax, his face nuzzling into your hair, placing a final kiss to your head.

“Love you.” 

➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴➶ ➴

Taglist Posted Separately (Ask to be added or removed!) :

[heli0s-writes]

III. On the road, and off the road

Summary: The three of you travel to Cincy where they find out a lot more about your family. Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes A/N: Uh hu h uh uh u huhuhh whaaaaat is happening??? Seriously though, there will be a short angsty segment soon, and then we can get back to the tomfoolery. XX

Foot in Mouth Syndrome Masterpost

A heavy weight on your stomach wakes you up the next morning. Buckeye has climbed onto the couch and over your body, placing his chin right on your sternum. His tail whacks against your propped-up foot as you begin to stir, and he plants a wet good morning kiss with his nose right over your mouth.

“Ah!” You cry, wiping it off with the back of your hand, “Geez!” He does it again and you can’t help but laugh, even though it’s cold and slimy. He looks pleased as punch as he flops his head back on your chest and stares lovingly into your eyes. Yes, you think, only an animal can love you in the morning. Eye crusts, dragon breath, and all. Stupid big-ass dog makes you soft and gooey.

“C’mon. Off.” You pretend to be annoyed and he slides onto the floor with a whine and follows you into the restroom as you brush your teeth.

Taking in the damage to your apartment— which is none at all, you figure it ended well last night. There’s a memory of you throwing vodka at Tinder-Date-Dickhead and then taking an Uber home. Good call on not driving, you pat yourself on the back and take Bucky outside.

Three alerts are on top of the speech bubble when you get a chance to look at your phone afterwards. Natasha. Steve.

Nat: Sunnywaters?

You heave a sigh and reply: Dude stop threatening me.

Then, you open the other message.

Steve: You up? Buck and I are packing— swimsuits? Yes or no? Also Cincinnati has its own Coney Island… ha ha ha very funny. I bet it stinks compared to the [1/2]

Steve: “real” Coney. Do your parents know we’re coming? I’d hate to intrude. [2/2]

You punch the green call button and rush back inside, scaring Buckeye a little with your sudden frantic movements.

“Good morning!” Steve’s voice sounds like a firecracker. And then he’s popping off in your ear, “Did you get my messages? Bucky and I are happy to stay in a hotel or something – called aerobean? Renting a house? I’m not really sure how that works.”

“It’s called airbnb, you fossil.” You respond off-handedly before catching yourself. “Stop, stop, why are you going to Cincinnati? And what about my parents?”

“You invited us. Are we leaving … today?”

Your face drains completely of color when it hits you— a nebulous and dizzying baseball bat swing to the temple. Last night crashes back into your mind: Steve, looking down, patting sympathetically. Two arms— turning you protectively until the room is sideways. You remember the way the blanket was tucked under your chin and around your shoulders.

“…Did you— did you t-tuck me in?” You ask hesitantly. Steve makes a negative grunt on the other line.

“Buck did that. He said he thought you’d get cold.”

“Oh…. Kay….” You whisper. “Uh. How set are you on Cinci?” You cross your fingers and hope he’ll back out purely based on how pathetic you sound. “It’s a ten-hour drive, dude. You guys okay with that?”

“Sure!” Steve chirps back. “We’ll take turns driving. Although Buck’s kind of a wheel-hog. Gets nervous when he’s not in charge.”

In the distance, you hear Bucky protest and it makes your mouth go dry.

“Uh. Okay. I usually leave early so… meet me here at six tomorrow.”

You hang up and bang the back of your head against the wall. The baseball bat of memory swings again.

You think you might faint because you start to recall last night: the metal hand lifting your head and placing the pillow under your hair. You even remember telling Bucky you loved him? It’s bewildering because you certainly do not love him. What was that thing that T-Pain said again? Your heart squeezes in your chest as you search around frantically for some scapegoat. Ah—yeah, T-Pain famously warbled: Blame it on the a-a-a-a-a-a-cohol.

Your body flies over the outfield and into the bleachers before crashing. It’s the most agonizing homerun.

Steve, you think, is probably the one skipping past bases and winking. Somehow, this is all his damn fault.

—

Buckeye scoots around the back of your car, shifting so his weight lands primarily on the cushiony bed. His head is laid gently on Bucky’s thigh, who lost to rock paper scissors and must get squished in the backseat. Lucky for him, you pack lightly, and your legs are much shorter than Steve’s. Unlucky for you, that means he’s right behind you, radiating the heat of a thousand terrifying and silent suns.

It’s been thirty minutes since you started driving. Every time you look into the rear view, Bucky’s blue eyes look back. At this point, you have no idea if any cars are behind you because you will not let yourself look again.

“This is nice.” Steve says breezily, commenting on the silence. You had barely spoken to them when they arrived, instead busied yourself with playing Tetris with your luggage and theirs as well as the fabric box of Bucky’s--- BUCKEYE’s things. God damn it.

“Love it when it’s quiet. Nothing but the road and--” Steve continues.

“Oh, shut up!” You and Bucky reply in unison. You glare up into the mirror. Bucky glares right back. The embarrassment of last night snuffs itself out. Love? In this motherfucker’s dreams.

To your side, Steve stares out the window to hide his smirk.

—

The music of your so-called Driving Playlist bumps through the car speakers. You’ve been subjecting them to your chaotic tastes for the last hour. Every new song is jarring and different than the one before it. There’s Christmas carols. Frenetic Japanese electropop. Incredibly explicit gansta rap. Something else sounds like a broken harmonica for eight whole goddamn minutes. Inexplicable genres and band names. In the middle of a warbly bass line and shrieking synths, you explain that this track is from a “witch house" group you particularly enjoyed as a young girl.

The terms “witch house” and “young girl” so close together makes the both of them shudder. Steve is petrified at the end of each song because the next one always seems to be worse. Bucky squeezes his face between two fully stuffed bags and groans as loudly as he can.

--

You stop to get gas and Steve walks Buckeye around the perimeter of the station. Bucky comes out from the sliding doors holding three Gatorades and cold brew coffee.

“Drink up.” He commands, flinging a pink bottle at you. “My turn to drive.”

You shake the nozzle when it clicks off and roll your eyes. “No way.”

“You can’t even see over the steering wheel.” You flip him off and silently mock him, rolling your eyes and scrunching up your nose. Then, you replace the nozzle and head inside to use the restroom, flipping him off another time for good measure.

“Don’t! Even!” You threaten behind your shoulder. But of course, by the time you’re halfway to the door, he’s already slid in the driver’s seat.

—

The only way you would stop bitching is if Bucky let you pick the music. So, the cord remains faithfully attached to your phone. And that dreaded playlist.

---

An hour later, your leg bounces from the back, knocking your knee into Steve’s seat. You’ve had to piss like a racehorse for the last twenty minutes and you feel like a fucking water balloon, about to pop. Steve turns around, elbow on the center console and quirks an eyebrow. “You okay?”

“Yessssss..” you could probably weep right now. No. No thinking of tears because tears are water. No fucking water.

“You’re shaking my seat pretty rough.” Steve accuses.

“You have to go again, don’t you? Jesus, what are you, four?” You’d think about how much you hate him but your bladder requires way more attention right now. This is the best posture you’ve ever had in your entire life. Your back is straight and you’re arching forward slightly—anything to relieve the pressure.

“I’m—- Ugh!” You shriek as the car runs over something and the entire thing rocks up, kicking a sharp jab into your lower abdomen. A wave of chills runs over your arms. “Oh no…” You whisper. Buckeye perks up and begins to sniff around, investigating your concern.

“Maybe I peed a little.” You admit sheepishly, squeezing your thighs together as well as your eyes.

“The next stop isn’t for another half hour…” Steve laments.

“Dirty Keanu Reeves over here gave me Gatorade!” You shake the bottle between them, 32 empty strawberry-flavored sugar-free ounces in all it’s glory. Even the wrapping has been peeled off. Steve sends the both of you a reproachful glare.

“I didn’t think she’d guzzle the whole damn thing!” He chooses to ignore your new nickname for him. He doesn’t even know who Keanu Reeves is. It’s a shame, really.

“Oh please stop arguing please pull over I swear I’ll piss in the forest I don’t care please.” Your words are running together like a waterfall. No. Not a waterfall. Oh god, you think, do not imagine any waterfalls. Bucky flips the blinker on and checks his blind spot before navigating to the right carefully. He puts on the hazards and stops your car—half on the emergency lane and half in the grass. Outside the window is about 200 feet of wildflowers before it turns dark with thick trees.

He turns and takes Steve’s place in-between the cloth seats. “There you are, princess. Pop a squat. Or stand. Just fucking hurry.”

“If I had a dick, Barnes, it would be way bigger than yours.” You push Bucky out of the way and wiggle until you can reach the glove compartment, elbowing Steve’s face in the process. There, your fingers yank a few tissues smushed into the corner of the dusty slot and you bolt. Oh sweet six-pound-and-four-ounces Jesus Christ you’ve never been so happy to piss in the woods.

Steve pats Bucky’s thigh as they watch you shred through the white and orange stalks, ripping a path through the peaceful country green. “Nah, Buck.” He smiles, “You’re pretty big.” Bucky slams the back of his head into the seat and lets out a long-suffering groan.

When you come back you fly into the car and moan happily. Bucky turns around to give you a snarky comment, but you hiss at him like an angry wildcat. “Saw a dead possum in the woods, man.” You say, “Looks just like you.”

—

Both you and Steve are asleep, along with the dog. It’s been a little over an hour now. The Captain reclines in the passenger seat, sunglasses on. You’re pitched over Buckeye, head resting on your splayed arm. The three orders of family-sized burger meals knocked you out first, then Steve. There’s hardly any room in the car for the enormous amount of trash that entailed, but you made do with the space next to your leg and stuffed the bag between you and the door.

Bucky slurps his coffee and drives in silence, frowning when the idea that he misses your bullshit finds him.

—

“God, can we listen to anything else?” Bucky grumbles when some mindless tune comes back on. You smile because Rebecca Black’s “Friday” is your goddamn jam. It’s the single best song to piss off any living person or animal and you embrace it whole-heartedly.

You let Steve browse the rest of your selection, waiting patiently for the inevitable—

“What is this?” He yelps. “Gay for Jesus?” His fingers continue to scroll, “What kind of playlist names are these? Sad n Sexy Santa? Who’s got the Biggest Dick in Baseball?” You’re cackling madly. It doesn’t stop there. “Fingerblast Fest of 2017?”

“What does that even mean?” Bucky mutters.

“Made it for a lesbian couple. Anniversary present.”

Bucky’s face scrunches up with confusion and you enlighten him by leaning forward and thrusting two fingers back and forth so vigorously his seat shakes like an industrial-sized dryer set on high.

“Oh fuckin’ A!” He cries, jerking his head away from your hand. Steve turns red as a beet. “Okay, new rule...” he sighs, turning your phone over on his lap, “Do not ask about playlist names.”

--

Traffic has clogged up the highway. It’s deadlocked and immobile, stuck in the middle of a big city—all smog and industry. There’s not even good scenery to look at. You are buried in-between the pages of a book, taking advantage of the stillness by reading as much as you can. After this, you’ll have to brush up on your Latin, too. Then Greek. It’s annoying, but at least you don’t have to do another summer immersion program somewhere in bumfuck Florida this year.

A folky tune comes on and it’s a welcome reprieve. Bucky and Steve look up when you start humming along, voice coming out to follow the melody.

“Didn’t know you could sing.” Steve comments.

“Habeo multum talenta.” You reply—brain tuned to Latin. It makes them both wonder what else you can do.

--

Two hours left to go before the three of you reach your destination. You’ve switched out with Steve, who begrudgingly sits in the back, legs pushed up nearly to his chest while you stretch up front, cracking your back every which way. Bucky has refused to move from the driver’s side.

The music halts for a couple of hours while conversations meander. All sorts of subjects are breached now that there is nothing else to do but talk. The last two months of knowing them, although made you more comfortable, didn’t quite allow you to learn as much as this single car ride has. Most of what you could understand from them was made through your own observations, but now they are more or less open books.

Sometimes, the words hang heavy in the air— old, bulbous and dusty ornaments they polish for you. Steve talks about the war. Bucky does too. You have lots of questions on your end and they illuminate all of them with personal spotlights.

Sometimes, it returns to the playfulness you are used to.

Steve vomited on the cyclone. Bucky lost three dollars trying to win a bear for a girl. You tell him you blew through thirty-five dollars on a crane machine once (for yourself) and the two of you share a moment of solidarity together. Although, it’s hard for you to imagine him as some flirtatious young man and Steve can see it on your face.

“New gal every two weeks.” He informs.

“Were there even that many women in Brooklyn?” You gasp, scandalized.

“They came from all over to get a look at Buck.”

Bucky only rolls his eyes, but you see a smile tug on the other side of his face.

“What was wrong with them?” You whisper on-brand with your usual self, but the memory of his laughter by your front door glows rosy in your mind. Yeah, you can see how girls would get themselves in a tizzy for him. Winter Soldier with his mask on hardly turned heads as much as Captain Adonis America, but if you take a second to look at him, it’s easy to see how built he is. Like a Greek statue. Even his aura is enthralling—a bit secretive, a little dark. He could definitely use that to his advantage.

The smile grows into an almost feral grin—there's that aura, you think. “You haven’t seen nothin’ yet.” He nearly growls.

You sit back and pretend to busy yourself with petting Buckeye because the pink crawling up your neck is about to choke you blue.

--

Bucky pulls off the familiar highway, drives a distance down the curved road next to the river and you lean back, breathing in that familiar fishy and slightly sickly sewage air.

“Aw yeah. Welcome to Cincy.” You laugh. Steve ducks his head to watch the scene, squinting at billboards and watching houses whiz by.

“What’s Skyline Chili?” He asks as the car zooms by an advertisement. A questionable pile of shredded cheese overtakes the (apparently) chili and hot dog on the otherwise blue sign.

“Depending on your taste, either the best or worst thing you’ll ever eat.” The smile on your face widens when he furrows his brow. “Oh, my sweet summer child... you’re in for a treat.”

 Your neighborhood comes into view and you wistfully stare at the immaculate paved roads, manicured wide green lawns, blonde-haired moms pushing baby strollers, and dogs trailing behind them on loose leashes. Buckeye pads around as much as he can in the back, stepping over your lap repeatedly as he begins to recognize where he’s at.

“Pretty nice neighborhood.” Steve comments, making a slow turn. The GPS pulls him into a driveway leading up to your parent’s ranch-style home. They both whistle at the garden in bloom and the cobblestone path. You point him to pull around to the garage where your father’s Benz is parked. The old willow tree hangs over it, weeping petals and leaves on the windshield.

“Holy shit.” Bucky mutters at how the rosebushes and magnolia pots wrap even around the side and the back. The deck is littered with more flowers and potted plants. A stained glass table. Even the outdoor chairs have beautiful plush cushions. There seems to be a room underneath the slope of the yard—perhaps a basement transformed into a living space. Everything matches perfectly. “You do have money.”

You sigh.

“It’s not my money. It’s my parents’.” The scathing and bitter tone makes him frown, but you hop out anyway, slinging two bags over your shoulder and nudging Buckeye into the yard. Your dog happily pounces all over the greenery, chasing butterflies and barking.

“You sure they’re ok with this?” Steve asks carefully.

You nod, “There are lots of perks to being the prodigal son. Daughter, in my case.”

“Thought you had a dick.” Bucky sneers.

“Get with the times, old man. Gender is an illusion.”

—

The house is empty. You lead them through the front door and into the hall where it branches into three areas. There’s a railing and staircase that leads down, but for now they take in the sights on this floor. The first step points straight to the dining room where the table is already lined with china and perfectly arranged. Silk napkins. Crystal glasses. Delicately carved mahogany display cabinet.

On the right is the living space and kitchen where the color scheme turns to a pale aqua, cream, and gold accents. Two scooped leather seats face the flat screen, flanked by built-in shelves filled with books. There is also a small couch and a seafoam armchair and matching ottoman. The coffee table is a gorgeous marble, flecked with gold.

They turn and look down the other way, noticing a large mirror entombed by a heavy decorated frame in between two doors. The walkway continues right and disappears even further down.

You stare at them. They stare back.

“Please don’t.” You beg, dropping your bags with a heavy sigh; this is why you didn’t want them coming. You hate it when people comment on your parents’ house. And they haven’t even seen the pool or tennis court. Or the downstairs living area with the grand piano your fingers nearly bled all over from countless hours of practice. Or the family oil painting you sat for when you were a kid. Fuck.

“I fucking hate it.” Bucky says nonchalantly. “Gaudy shit. Too big. This place haunted?”

You could leap into his arms if they weren’t carrying his bag and your dog’s stuff. Instead, you settle for a genuine smile, all warmth and radiance because you feel it in your heart—the appreciation for his understanding wrapped in snark. “Now we’re talking. C’mon. Let’s go downstairs. You guys can stay in my childhood bedroom.”

They finally drop their bags on the bay window seat in your old room after you unlock it. It’s always been like this— and you never let your parents come in. You open the middle of the window and let the room air out a little and the afternoon light pours in. Your old pictures are still on the shelves. Trophies. Music books. Your suede riding helmet, too. They wander around, peering at the images.

“Where are your parents?” Steve asks.

You shrug and plop down on the king-size bed out of habit, lying back with your legs dangling off the edge. Buckeye hops on with you and pads around a bit before he settles into a bagel-like swirl of a shape. “Ibiza. Dubai. Paris. Virgin Islands. Take your pick. My dad has property in all of them.” You message him anyway. You’re not surprised they’re gone for the summer. You don’t really come back for them; you mostly come back to get away from Manhattan.

“Wow.” Steve mutters.

“He even owns part of a mountain in Colorado. It’s vile. Historically, we’re from Ohio… ugh. I don’t want to talk about it.” You feel like a child again, and being in this space doesn’t help.

Steve examines the paintings in the room and flips through scattered books on the work desk. Bucky trails around your bookshelves, looking at the frames, picking some up here and there to examine what’s inside. “Who’s this?”

Peeking up you blow a pppffbbfbfbt breath of air out between your lips. It’s you, duh. Except your hair is perfectly curled and piled atop your head— a bird’s nest cushion for a sparkly tiara. Your eyes are piled heavily with so much eyeshadow and lash extensions it looks like an ombré spider web, and you’re wearing a low-cut dress swirling with rhinestones. Across your torso is a sash. Yep. Homecoming Queen. You’re pressed up against your date, all smiles, sharp cheeks, shoulders so thin he can see your skeleton jutting out. Over ten years ago, you were a much different person.

“Laugh it up, Barnes.” You mutter. “Thas ya girl, sweet sixteen, massively underweight, and aspiring to be the shiniest trophy wife of them all.”

“Why would I laugh?” He asks, suddenly solemn. Bucky turns to look at you, sprawled out on the bed, sardonic smile plastered to your face. “You don’t look very happy.” He still has the picture in his hand. Steve has paused, too, closing a heavy leather-bound first edition. Being caught in the middle of two concerned stares makes you heavy with anxiety and dread. Instead of spending another second under their gaze, you shoot up and motion for Buckeye to follow.

“Don’t be fucking weird, man.” Then, you’re already up the stairs.

Steve and Bucky glance at each other and Bucky places the picture back on the shelf.

—

In the downstairs living space next to their room, you pour three glasses of thirty-year-old single malt whiskey from the cabinet and plop down on the piano bench. The boys sit on the couch and regard you curiously as you open the cover and stare at the ivory keys. Your foot stomps on each of the paddles underneath vengefully. Then you tip your head back, whiskey along with it, and slam the cover shut with a trembling crash. “Fuck you, Mozart.” You whisper, as if the piano can hear.

--

You peek downstairs after your bath and call, “Hey! My parents use a water softener so if you feel slimy… it’s normal.” The whiskey has made you flush with excitement and volatile energy.

Steve’s head pops out from the bathroom doorway, neck and chest red from the heat. “Oh, thank God.” He says, “Buck’s been scrubbing for hours.”

“Who the fuck would do this!” Bucky’s voice echoes from the same tiled space. You can practically see it shooting out from the room behind Steve’s shoulder to crash into the adjacent wall like a comic panel.

The towel on top of your head slips and you attempt to grab it quickly, using your other hand to hold onto the knot around your chest. “You guys fucking in there?!”

Steve only grins and sends you a wink, mischievous expression catching you off guard. The towel tumbles down the stairs and your hair slaps itself over your face. The two of you watch the fluffy sheet spread over the bottom of the steps before staring at each other. “You gonna get that?” He asks.

“No.” You reply, abruptly mortified, “It’s yours now.”

Apparently, Steve Rogers has chosen this very moment to make it known that partners is not only platonic in meaning. You don’t know why you’re so embarrassed, because you’ve been harassing them for months about who’s a bottom (you bet all four limbs it’s Bucky), but suddenly the moment is confronting you and all you can do is think about how you’re naked and third-wheeling … in your own damn home. And that maybe you shouldn’t have had all that whiskey.

Captain America rubs the tip of his nose absentmindedly, “You alright?” There is genuine concern in his eyes as he steps out of the doorway and reveals his –NAKED! NAKED!

“No!” You scream, turning your head and hiding behind your outstretched hand. “No! Don’t! You fucking stay there you—Fucking A, Steve!”

He’s not really naked; he’s wrapped hip-down in a towel, but you don’t even want to see the outline of him. As far as you know, he’s a smooth-crotched Ken Doll. Maybe Bucky has like, three dicks. There is so much panic inside of you right now.

The water stops from the shower and rustling is heard as Bucky dries off. You attempt to slowly back up away from the steps and move back into the confines of your own room until your dog springs past you like a loose cannonball and sails downstairs. He banks left into the bathroom and licks a stripe over Steve’s shin before finding his true target: Bucky.

There is tumbling, banging, wincing from you and Steve as Buckeye clobbers his human doppelganger once more. Then, there is yelling and cussing—Steve, moving inside to help, but then more crashing follows before Buckeye tears from the bathroom and up the stairs with two towels clenched tightly in his mouth.

“No…” You whisper, when he drops them at your feet. His tongue flops against his chin and he looks up expectantly, as if you might reward him for his endeavor. Steve’s head peeks out again, and the wry smile he sends your way says: you’re fucked.

Next Chapter

[raeloganthesonic06fangirl]

The GameCube used to be my favorite console from Nintendo, no questions asked, but I'm really starting to think that the Switch has definitely worked its way up the ranks.

Easily customizable, the fun skin options to really make the system your own unique style or interests. My Joy-Cons have acrylic shells to keep me from scratching them, and it adds a little extra bulk to the grips in the back.

I just bought a charger stand from the Nintendo website to let me tilt at a better angle than the kickstand and allow for charging when out of the dock, since I like to set up near the couch at the side table while my Mom watches TV. This a nifty little gadget; I can keep power flowing during long sessions or when I set the system aside during the day before I remember to put it back in the dock, and it folds up really small when not in use, which is good considering I don't really like bully peripherals I can't travel with (I'm also slowly working on downsizing on my childhood stuff that I don't use anymore, so replacing a bulk amount of kids' toys with a new "big kid toy" sounds like a nice incentive)

I also love the Pokeball Plus, and my new controller I got for Christmas (it's Animal Crossing inspired, and it's really good and responsive, but the only real complaint is lack of NFC support, but it's really good for playing Smash Bros without me losing control of my character). The travel charger is cool, but I haven't been able to use it since I'd bought it before the pandemic hit, but it's there and ready for future long day trips in the car. I picked the one that looked like a POW block from Mario, because I thought it would be kind of funny that it's a POWer cord. :P

Nintendo really nailed it with coming up with a console that adapts to the user and offers a selection of peripherals that makes it easier to use it if you happen to have a few issues with general dexterity. My fingers aren't always very good at gripping, so I sometimes pinch the left stick with my thumb and forefinger to be more controlled, and having a layout and proportion size to the controls that doesn't cramp your hand while doing that is nice, even if they didn't particularly design it that way.

Dang, I just like Nintendo...

[samsungchargerb-blog]

Top 10 Samsung Fast Charger Best Buy

A speedy-charging iPhone calls for having a USB-CPD charger, that is assisting even 18 watts. Besides, the samsung speedy charger exceptional purchase coming withinside the field has the potential of powering the telecellsmartphone to even 17 percentage from its empty nature in 1/2 of an hour. The exceptional USB charger will make sure your telecellsmartphone receives to forty eight to eighty one percentage in comparable periods. Smartphone batteries are recognized for draining speedy seeing that human beings are the usage of telephones in all hours in a day. When the telecellsmartphone’s battery finally ends up dying, the trouble entails trying to find a energy outlet, a energy adapter, and a charging cable. It is why the wi-fi charger stand/pad is useful. In case the tool helps Qi and wi-fi charging, wi-fi samsung galaxy s9 charger will shop your issues related to the plugging in cables. There are chargers with the potential of charging a couple of tool at ago.

It is excessive time you make sure you take benefit of the samsung speedy charger exceptional purchase. The chargers will make sure you're usually punctual seeing that you may ought to watch for lengthy expecting your telecellsmartphone to get completely charged. In case you've got got been trying to find a reliable and speedy charger, the exceptional ten fsdt chargers are right here at your aid.

List of Top 10 Samsung Fast Charger Best Buy

1. Adaptive Compatible Samsung Galaxy Fast Charger

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Pros

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Average lifetime

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Cons

The cube, at times, will become hot.

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Average excellent charger

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Pros

Spring protection

Highly well matched

Durable layout

Long-lasting

Cons

None

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Here is a USB g6 samsung s8 charger, that is preserving up with the ultra-modern traits of various USB interfaces. Besides, it's far assisting from each facets and perhaps inserted each in high-quality and negative. As a result, you've got got a assure that the product will come to be withstanding strain even even as plugged in repeatedly.

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Pros

Universal compatibility

Tangle-loose layout

Allows facts sync and charging

Long

Cons

Plug and cable generally separate, main to failure.

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Flexible

Allow for facts switch

Cons

Average sturdiness

8. USB Type C, five Pack 1ft Nylon Braided Fast Charger

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Pros

Extremely long lasting

Data sync and speedy charging

Durable

Tangle loose

Cons

Gets troubles after quick usage

9. Long USB C etguuds Nylon braided Cable

The Etguuds USB and USB C cables are assisting QC3.zero speedy charging and syncing of facts switch. Since the most samsung notice nine charger cutting-edge is 3A, you'll switch facts speedy the usage of 480Mbps. The pull-up widespread 5Q resistor is offering more secure charging cutting-edge even as prolonging its lifestyles. There is an aluminum alloy shell, that is making the shell floor tougher and additionally greater wearable. Since nylon is braided the usage of a 1000+ bend lifespan, it'll be lots greater long lasting and with the great charge for the lengthy lifestyles usage.

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Extra-lengthy

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Cons

Charges a chunk slowly

10. CLEEFUN USB five-Pack Type C Charger Cable

The fundamental goal for one to shop for a quick charger for samsung galaxy s6 is to permit speedy charging. With the Cleefun pack, you may permit for best charging of the telecellsmartphone whilst withinside the car, home, and office. The Cleefun USB-C and USB A are flawlessly helping QC3.zero and QC2.zero speedy charging technology. The outside sturdiness of this product is a assure because it has been the use of a 10000+ bend lifespan.

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Pros

Perfect compatibility

High information transfer

Very handy

Allows short charging

Cons

None

Guide on Purchase of Fast Chargers

Voltage and mAh

While buying a battery samsung speedy charger first-class purchase, it is ideal to shop for one which fits the voltage of the telecellsmartphone. In case the samsung s8 charger has too low voltage, the telecellsmartphone is possibly to fee slowly and hence fail to attain the whole fee. In case the voltage is excessive, it's far predicted to spoil the tool and the battery. Some telephones were rated over 5.zero volts whilst there are chargers with a comparable rating. There isn't anyt any want to fear an excessive amount of concerning this if you want to play it safe.

Reviews

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Type of USB Socket You Require

It is a few of the maximum truthful steps. Many of the android devices are the use of USB micro-b stock. It is, in different terms, known as the antique micro simple USB. In case you want surety at the sort of the USB socket the telecellsmartphone has, there's a want to examine the specifications.

Conclusion

The speedy costs have become handy as days move on. With a quick charger for samsung galaxy s6, you've got got a assure that you may get to the assembly in time with out expecting lengthy in your telecellsmartphone to get absolutely charged. Besides, the distinct speedy chargers were properly examined and hence do now no longer bend. Therefore, sturdiness and excessive great is a assure irrespective of the samsung speedy charger first-class purchase you buy from this list.

As a result, it's far excessive time you study thru the evaluation again. Besides, there's a want to decide the samsung be aware nine charger with the intention to be appropriate in your needs. Ensure you positioned the manual in thoughts to turn out to be shopping for the quick iphone se charger cable with the intention to first-class healthy you. Make your desire after which order the product.

[writethelifeyouwant]

Repeat After Me: I Need A Vacation

Characters: Spencer, JJ and family, Emily, Luke, Tara, Rossi, Penelope, OFC

Word Count: 2014

Warnings: Fluff and friendship :)

Summary: I was on vacation and then I was thinking about what they would be like on vacation and then I pushed my loneliness and need for love onto Spencer and this is essentially gonna be super fluffy and probably corny and just roll with it. Am open to taking constructive criticism as well as scenario suggestions! Because I have some semblance of plot laid out but that pesky middle bit is non existent at the moment. So enjoy your fluffy team bonding on a beach with eventual Spencer love interest! This work is cross posted on AO3 and FFN.

“In light of the recent events, I’m putting your team on mandatory leave. Six weeks. Starting now.” AD Barnes’ voice was strict, and emphatically not to be argued with. However, it betrayed her lack of profiling experience, because convincing Prentiss that she and her team needed a vacation was not what one would call a challenge at this point in time. They had been kicked so hard recently, Emily knew she needed to get her team out of the heat for a while. Or, she thought, into the heat depending on where they decide to go get that vacation.

“Thank you ma’am.” Emily nodded and exited the de-briefing as swiftly as she could without being obvious that her goal was to get as far away from Barnes as quickly as possible. She called the elevator bring her back down to the bullpen and her team. Even though she had dismissed them, Emily was sure not a one had left, and they were anxiously waiting on Barnes’ assessment of their most recent arrest. It hadn’t gone smoothly, per se, and the team could feel the ragged nerves hanging in the air between them.

They were huddled around JJ’s and Spencer’s desks, speaking in hushed tones of worry, anticipating the worst their sentence might result in. Luke seemed to exude the most obvious jittery energy. He’d never been on the wrong side of the establishment before he joined the BAU, and he hadn’t accustomed himself to the trips to the principal’s office quite yet.

Knowing her news was actually a positive scenario, Emily stopped short of the group and savoured their pregnant silence before she granted them their reprieve. “Six weeks mandatory leave guys.” The concurrent exhales soared through the air at her announcement and the giddy high of relief surged through the assembled agents. Garcia and JJ actually made small fist pumping motions before tapping each others’ knuckles. Matt, Luke and Tara exchanged relieved smiles, and Rossi just settled back more firmly in his chair, flipping through his phone. Spencer was the only one who still looked vaguely irritated. He didn’t know how to stop working as effectively as his team mates. Emily smiled brightly, her eyes shining in an echo of her team’s consolation.

“Okay everyone, get out of here!” Emily made shooing motions, and she didn’t have to tell them twice. The gaggle began to gather their belongings and filter towards the elevators in pairs and trios.

“Does anyone want to get pizza?” Garcia threw out the option as they crowded an unwise number of team mates into the elevator cabin.

“Oh I could murder a pepperoni right now,” Emily’s voice leaked with what might be considered an inappropriate amount of desire based on the conversation topic.

“We can order to my place? Girls night?” Penelope reached out for JJ’s hand and swivelled around to catch Tara’s eyes.

“If you have wine to go with that pizza then I’m in,” Tara smiled. “JJ?”

“I think I can spare some time before I get back to my boys,” she weighed. “They’re about to be stuck with helicopter mom for six weeks after all.”

“All right, girls to Garcia’s!” Emily shouted as they filed out of the elevator in the parking garage. “Any boys want to petition for an exception?” Emily called walking backwards to her car.

“Not tonight,” Rossi called back. “You ladies have fun.”

“I’ve got my own ladies’ night waiting for me at home, but thanks!” Matt chuckled.

“Spence, Alvez?” JJ prodded.

“You know what, I think I’m gonna go see the new Avengers movie,” Luke answered checking his watch. “I didn’t think I’d be home for the release but it’s only nine, plenty of time to wait in line.” The girls all laughed as the characteristic excited puppy expression crept onto Luke’s face. “Reid, how ‘bout it?”

“You know what, why not.” Reid nodded and adjusted his bag on his shoulder. “Text me the theatre address?”

“Done and done. See ya there man,” Alvez moseyed to his car, tossing his keys between his hands as he went. Spencer waved back in acknowledgement, heading towards his own car.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Three varieties of pizza and several bottles of wine later, Emily and Penelope were draped across Garcia’s couch, while Tara took over the armchair, and JJ huddled into the bean bag next to the coffee table, cradling her glass of wine close to her chest.

“Emily,” Penelope drunk whispered (so the volume was really more suited to stagecraft than intimacy), “we should just stay like this forever. We should just spend our vacation on this couch, with pizza and Sergio and never leave.” Emily laughed, stoking Garcia’s hair like she was a cat herself.

“I should go to a beach,” JJ mused. “I haven’t been to a beach that didn’t involve corpses in years.”

“Ugh, I know!” Emily commiserated. “I thought for sure we could sneak in some time last time we were in California but no…” Emily drew out the vowel in a long mocking complaint. “‘Get your unit back right away chief. We want your report on the AD’s desk before tomorrow night chief.’ Blah blah blah.”

Garcia giggled at Emily’s robotic impersonation of the office bureaucrats. Then she nearly rolled off the couch in her excitement as her intoxicated brain attempted to communicate her newest scheme. JJ and Tara jumped to catch her, as Emily’s own laughter essentially pushed Garcia further towards the fuzzy carpet. “Guys, guys we should go! We” Penelope’s drink free hand flailed around to indicate she meant the friends surrounding her, “should go to the beach! Like, on a vacation!”

“You know,” Tara mused, “I could be up for that. Sun, sand, shirtless men…” she trailed off and swallowed any elaboration on her point with her next drag of wine.

“Exactly!” Garcia pointed her finger enthusiastically. “What she said!”

“Just a girls’ trip? I don’t know if I want to go away for too long without my boys, we get so little time off as it is.” JJ cut in.

“No, no, them too!” Penelope’s drunk excitement hadn’t been dulled but the planning oriented portion of her brain pushed past the alcohol wall to actually push her idea into the realm of a viable option. “All of us, girls, boys, JJ’s boys, like BAU goes to the beach. Like together!”

“If we can go somewhere close-ish I’m in, I just don’t feel like flying, we spend too much time on a jet,” Emily put in.

“Road trip! Even better!” Penelope clapped her hands incredibly enthusiastically as she ran to grab her laptop from the formica countertop of her kitchen, bringing another bottle of red with her in the same trip.

“Virginia has beaches, we can drive there, they literally have a place called Virginia. Beach. That’s totally a place we can go.” Garcia settled herself on the couch again with here laptop on the coffee table so everyone could see the screen while she googled options for beach rentals in Virginia Beach. JJ was already texting Will about asking for a week off.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

At the indecently early hour of 4:30 Spencer’s phone began vibrating against the base of the lamp it was resting against with entirely too much energy. The violent clattering sound jolted him awake and he grasped blindly for the offending noise, hoping to stop it before anyone else woke. This was not accomplished, however, as jerking his phone from the tabletop caused thee charging cord to topple the lamp onto the hardwood below, very effectively waking up the dog sleeping at the other end of the little room.

Roxy’s growling and Reid’s swearing and scrambling reached Luke in the next room, who stumbled incoherently towards the sleep disrupting noises.

“What the hell, man,” Luke grumbled, pulling a hand over his face to wipe the sleep from his eyes. His search for the noise lighted on Reid trying to untangle his phone from the lamp, while Roxy paced around him trying to grab at the wires as if they were chew toys. Luke batted Roxy away from Reid as the other agent finally managed to disengage his phone from its cable in order to answer it. The Caller ID on thee screen informed him who was making this irritatingly early call and he groaned.

“Garcia, if you tell me we have a case right now, I swear, I’m quitting.” Reid grunted as he settled himself on the floor with his back leaning into the couch that had been serving as his makeshift bed.

“Reid we’re on leave, we can’t have a case.”

“Well then there is no good reason for you to be calling me at-“ Reid pulled the phone away from his ear to check the time, “4:32 am.” Spencer was unconsciously mimicking Luke’s earlier gesture of rubbing his hand across his face to encourage his muscles to reawaken and help him process what the hell was going on. He caught Luke’s eye as he was petting Roxy on the other end of the couch.

“Garcia?” He mouthed, ruffling the fur behind Roxy’s ears. Spencer nodded and put the call onto speaker just as Penelope was protesting.

“No, this is a good reason. A totally good reason, I promise.”

“Garcia, how much have you had to drink?” Luke cut in, his louder than necessary voice causing Spencer to flinch.

“Wait why is Luke there, are you guys having a sleepover?!” Garcia squealed and ushered all the girls on her end closer to the phone.

“His couch was closer than my bed. Calm down.”

“No but you’re bonding, that’s great!”

“Garcia, was there a purpose for this call?” Spencer groaned, smooshing further into the cushions behind him.

“Yes, yes there is, vacation. We’re going on a family vacation!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Vacation. Us. BAU family. At a beach. BAU goes to a beach.”

“Genuinely, Garcia, how much have you had to drink?” Spencer laughed.

“That is immaterial to this discussion.”

Luke raised his eyebrows, impressed at Garcia’s ability to recall both that vocabulary and that serious tone this far into the wine bottle he assumed she had stationed next to her at this point.

“Pipe down newbie, I can hear your eyebrows from here.” Luke’s brows moved even further back into his rumpled hairline if that was at all possible. Spencer snorted his laughter into his fist. “But, you have distracted me from my totally awesome plan, which is vacation, which you’re coming to.”

“Where…” Spencer had long ago learned the prudence of being cautious but optimistic about most of Garcia’s plans for team morale and bond building.

“Virginia Beach.”

“Why…?” Spencer didn’t really understand what hat she was pulling this out of yet.

“Because we’re on leave and we all need a break and the beach is great and it’s not that far.” Penelope huffed, she didn’t like being doubted. Her plan was brilliant.

“You know, I’ve never actually been to the beach,” Spencer mused. A chorus of ‘what!s’ and exclamations shot through the tinny speaker on his phone, met with a completely perplexed expression from himself and Luke.

“What do you mean you’ve never been to the beach?” JJ slurred accusatorially.

“I mean, it’s not like Las Vegas is on the coast, guys.” Reid shrugged, he hadn’t thought of it as a big deal, clearly he was about to be corrected.

“Well that settles it” Garcia said, “the pasty professor is coming, he doesn’t get a choice anymore. You in newbie?” Spencer looked over at Luke, who was sitting fairly stunned, idly petting at the air where Roxy hadn’t been for a solid thirty seconds at least.

“Um… I guess?” His confirmation definitely sounded like more of a question but that didn’t stop Garcia.

“Great! I’ll text you the details and car pool set ups when I finish. Night night sleep tight!”

The line went dead and a discordant dial tone rang out for a moment before Spencer hung up on his end as well, shaking his head in amusement and exasperation but primarily exhaustion.

“What just happened?”

.....

[virmillion]

Ibytm - T minus 23 seconds

Masterpost - Previous Chapter - Next Chapter - ao3

Words: 2,553

With only two days left to go before the new office is finally open and he can at last return to work, Logan is bored out of his mind. He tilts his head up from his position on the floor with his feet up on the wall and looks at Virgil, who shrugs.

“Just because I know art history doesn’t mean I know anything about whatever modern scene you’re trying to peddle. How should I know what you want to do for fun?”

“We’ve got a functional car now, right? We might as well use it.”

“To do what? The only places we go outside of work are, like, the park. And Patton’s house, I guess, but I don’t know why you’d use your car to go hassle him.”

“We could just get in the car and drive, see where we end up?”

“As if there isn’t literally an endless list of places we could go or random directions we could take.”

“Not like we have any better options. Not like you’re suggesting any, for that matter.”

“You have absolutely got me there, my dude.”

Logan takes this as the most solid of agreements he could hope for and pushes his foot off the wall, doing half of a backwards somersault to get to his knees. Virgil, in a much less graceful manner (despite whatever dance experience Logan is convinced he’s hiding from him), tumbles off the couch and lands in a heap on the floor. He luckily seems to find his footing by the time Logan pockets the keys and insurance papers, doing a spectacular job of not tripping on his way down the stairs.

Logan clicks the lock button on the fob, reassuring himself it still works despite having just gotten it, y’know, yesterday. As he presses the unlock button on the handle, Virgil yanks on the passenger door at exactly the right moment to re-lock his door. Logan sighs and presses it again before sliding into his seat.

For a used lease, it isn’t in the worst possible shape. A few tears in the leather of the seat, some bleach stains, some scuff marks, but certainly good enough that it won’t crap out on them in the middle of a busy highway. At the very least, Kathy’s deal regarding further interests in a motorcycle was more than fair. Logan is pretty sure this car will survive the next couple years in one piece, anyway, so it’s hardly worth worrying about.

Virgil does not agree with this sentiment.

“What if that spot didn’t show up in the trust papers and they charge you for it when you turn it in?”

“Then we’ll be out thirty bucks and the next lessee will enjoy a cleaner car.”

“What if you lock the keys in the car and your phone dies and your late for work?”

“Then I politely ask the nearest shop if I could borrow their phone for roadside assistance.”

“What if you forget the number?”

“Google.”

“What if—”

“Virgil.”

“What?”

Logan sweeps a hand around to indicate the parking lot, from which they still haven’t moved an inch. “If any of that happens, we will deal with it when it comes.” He holds up his phone and swipes away the dormant background apps. “Full battery.” He scratches at a stain on the console with his fingernail, picking it off with ease. “We can always clean it ourselves.” He takes Virgil’s hand in his own, feeling the bands between them. “And if nothing else, we’ve got each other.”

Virgil nods, clearly still unconvinced, but reaches for the aux cord and plugs in his phone. “Dibs on music hijackery.”

“I don’t think that’s quite how dibs work,” Logan says, but he doesn’t protest when Alec Benjamin’s voice pours from the speakers. As they approach a traffic light, Logan assigns each direction a number—left one, right two, straight three. “Pick a number, one through nine.”

“Seven.” Logan clicks on his indicator and pulls into the left turn lane. Once the next light pops up—two directions with a one way street cutting through the middle—Logan reassigns the numbers, one through ten, with going straight being designated as odd numbers.

“Pick a number, one through ten.”

“Four.”

Logan turns, quirking one eyebrow as Virgil rapid-fire skips through a solid fifteen songs in a row, only allowed a discordant opening beat to play each time.

“One through three,” Virgil grumbles.

“Now that’s no fun,” Logan chides lightly. “Where’s the variety, the panache? And three. One through ten.”

“Eight.” Logan sees the word on his lips more than he hears it, turning right as some song about tongues by a horizon band starts blaring from the speakers. The short stints of number selections continue for a good twenty minutes or so, with only the vaguest occasional commentary from Logan, before Virgil speaks up again.

“I’m getting close to the end of my repertoire.” Mind you, he’s played a maximum of seven songs to completion by this point.

“You’ve hardly played anything yet. How many songs do you have?”

“Five hundred forty-two.”

“And you only wanted to listen to seven.”

“Correct.”

“So why not delete the other five thirty-five?”

“’Cause I’m not in the mood to listen to them now , but I might be later.”

“Fair enough. One through nine.”

“Five.”

Logan drives straight, eyeing the strip mall fast approaching on the right. “How about we go to Ikea?”

“Why would we go to Ikea?”

“Could be fun, wandering around and getting lost in the aisles and all that manner of doing. Plus, hey, we could always get some furniture.”

“Right, because the apartment isn’t crowded enough already. Surely more things will fit in the same space.” Logan considers this and shrugs, but nevertheless he flicks on his right turn indicator and pulls into the parking lot. And a spot not too far from the doors. Nice.

Virgil smacks the back of his hand into Logan’s chest when he moves to cut the engine. “Wait, there’s only twenty-five seconds left in this song.” So they sit and they wait for the song to play itself out, Virgil bouncing along and Logan watching how the longer pieces of his dyed hair claw past his undercut to the nape of his neck. “Okay, now we can go.” Virgil climbs out of the car first, already bounding for the entrance by the time Logan locks the doors behind them.

“Someone’s in a hurry,” Logan remarks, scrubbing at a smudge on his glasses with his shirt. He squints at Virgil’s blurry silhouette, which is nearly to the undefined entrance already. “Since when did furniture shopping excite you?”

“Since I remembered that Ikea has, like, the best cinnamon rolls.”

“I never agreed to making any purchases today.”

“You never agreed to making any furniture purchases today. You never said cinnamon rolls were off the table, so hurry up.”

This is how Logan finds himself sandwiched between a family of five in front of him and an elderly lady behind him. Virgil, the little snot, lingers at the edge of the line, nowhere near as cramped as Logan. More than a little squished as he does so, Logan leans over to Virgil and mumbles, “I am not getting you the six pack.”

Virgil hardly seems to hear him, pawing through his wallet (Logan’s wallet, that is) for some bills on the west side of crumpled. “Yeah, sure, cool deal my dude.”

Singular cinnamon roll in hand, Virgil follows Logan from the counter some ten minutes later, the latter being extra careful not to touch the parts of his husband’s hand that are drenched in sugar.

“Skhur khoo gon’t wah skhung?” Virgil asks—well, that’s what it sounds like he asks, but Logan likes to think himself pretty darn decent at reading context clues. That is, the context clues of Virgil’s full mouth and the way he’s prodding the roll in Logan’s direction.

“I’m good,” Logan says, holding up his hands as if to calm a rabid child. Virgil shrugs and tears off another piece, smearing icing across his chin in the process, and Logan wonders whether he should feel enamoured or disgusted. Maybe a little bit of both.

By the time they reach what Virgil referred to as ‘guh koch uk guh gnazje’—’the top of the maze,’ as Logan managed to parcel out—the roll is completely gone and Virgil is licking his fingers clean, pulling them from his lips with a pop .

“You are incorrigible,” Logan informs Virgil, watching him wipe his fingers off on the hem of his shirt.

“Not like anyone else’ll notice.” Virgil zips up his jacket and holds his arms out to the sides, as if to say tada to a nonexistent audience. “See? Good as gone.”

“I suppose.” Logan glances at the arrows underfoot, tracing their path up to a map standee. “Let’s try to figure out where we want to go before we get completely lost.”

“Aw, that’s no fun,” Virgil grumbles. He pokes at an area on the map. “If we’re gonna do it the cheater’s way, I want to hit up the office and study displays.”

Logan nods, dragging a finger along the picture and tapping the you are here dot. “Okay, that shouldn’t be too impossible. We just need to go through bedding here, past the living room section there, and we can bypass the kitchen part with this shortcut here.”

“Works for me,” Virgil says, already a good fifteen feet away. Logan exhales and moves quickly to catch up, following Virgil down the winding path and wondering how long it’ll take them to get completely lost.

“Hey, wait, hold up,” Virgil says suddenly, stopping sharply enough that Logan has to feint right to avoid smacking his face between Virgil’s shoulder blades.

“What is it?” Virgil tilts his head toward a display room in the bedding section, with several blankets and a surplus of pillows and some glow in the dark stars on the wall and a bedside table and—“Why did you stop me for this?”

“’Cause that could be us.” Virgil’s voice takes on a strange quality, sort of airy and wistful, a combination that completely baffles Logan.

“I don’t think I quite follow you.”

“See how normal it is? It’s literally just a bed with some decorations but, like, that’s how some people’s homes actually are. That’s the kind of thing that we could make our normal.”

“I don’t think I quite understand what you’re trying to get across here.”

Virgil gives an exasperated sigh, glances about them, and launches himself at the bed. Logan freezes, his hands caught somewhere between wringing themselves out and trying to stop him. Posing atop the bed, Virgil peeks out at Logan from between his elbows and squints his eyes so they almost look sleepy—more squinty than sleepy, but Logan gets the point well enough.

“This is an actual, genuine, legitimate thing that we could have, and it could just—just be. ”

“I don’t think—”

“Then stop thinking.” Virgil props himself up on his elbows and stares at Logan, more than long enough to make him uncomfortable. (This admittedly doesn’t take very long, but still.) “There’s no, like, grand point I’m trying to make here. I’m just saying that this display is something that some people actually have, and it’s manufactured, yeah, it’s whatever, but it’s still something that exists, and something we could have, something that—it could—I don’t know, I think I lost my point somewhere in there. I can’t really put it into words, but d’you know what I mean? Don’t answer that.” His face taking on a stunning shade of crimson, Virgil slides off the bed and speedwalks to the next department.

“Well, hey, hang on,” Logan calls, jogging to catch up. When he does (by no small amount of effort), he has to hold Virgil’s shoulder in place to keep him from getting away again. “Just because I don’t get it doesn’t mean it’s invalid.”

“Doesn’t mean it is valid, either.” Virgil is staring intently at the ground, as if it might get up and run away when he’s not looking.

“Okay, so then let me try.”

“Try what?”

Rather than answer, Logan steps off the arrow-lined path and stands beside an elbow couch covered in decorative pillows. “This could be us, too, right? A normal, everyday thing that doesn’t mean much to anyone else, but it could be a sort of symbol of the life we choose to forge together? Was that what you meant about the bedding display?”

“Kind of, but not really, but you tried your best.” Virgil stifles a laugh as Logan perches on the arm of the couch and rests his chin on his fist. “What are you doing, dork?”

“I’m thinking…” Logan mumbles, drawing out the second syllable. “I’m thinking… I’m thinking…”

“You are so weird.” Virgil shifts his weight between his feet for a moment, then bolts down the path, easily escaping Logan’s sight as the latter scrambles to get off the couch arm without tripping over himself. Logan weaves between the scattered clumps of people doing, you know, real serious shopping, doing his best not to full out sprint in his efforts to catch up with Virgil’s silhouette as it disappears around the next corner every time he gets it back in his sights.

“Stop doing that!” Logan groans once he finally reaches Virgil, who appears entranced by the fancier displays of kitchenware. “We were supposed to take a shortcut back there.”

“Yeah, but maybe I wanted to look at utensils and stuff.” Virgil spins around and holds up a wooden block shaped like a porcupine, its spines consisting of all manner of forks and spoons and knives. “Look at this one! Her name is Polly.”

Logan cranes his neck to look for a tag declaring as much, electing not to suggest that a better name might be ‘Caesar.’ “Where does it say that?”

“In my heart.” Virgil places the porcupine back on the shelf and continues down the aisle, now checking out a nesting set of measuring cups.

“We don’t need kitchenware stuff, you know.” Logan is confident that his words are falling on dear ears, but he continues his lecture anyway. “We rarely cook anything so complex as to require new tools. We don’t even use the ones we already have.”

“What’s your point?” The question seems too halfhearted to be anything more than vague encouragement for Logan to keep talking as Virgil pokes his nose into a standing hutch display. “Hey, look how nice this wood is! Even better than the frames at the museum. D’you think they’d give me a raise if I went in and criticized their choice of woodwork for displaying the art?”

“Probably not, since you don’t have a legal salary in the first place.” Logan picks up a set of cups, lifting them over his head to inspect the undersides by the fluorescent beam lights.

“Fair enough.” With no further warning, Virgil backs up from the hutch and darts down the path into the next section. Logan sighs, not bothering to call out another ‘stop doing that’ before setting down the cups and chasing after him, narrowly dodging two women leaning their heads together to admire a kitchen display.

[tony-luvv]

KO

Clint’s a sore loser and he takes it out on Tony’s ass. This is something I prompted myself I while ago.

Available to read on Ao3 and Fanfiction

Clint and Tony were enjoying a couple’s long weekend at Tony’s Malibu mansion. They arrived two days ago on Wednesday and spent almost all of that time in the water. If they weren’t surfing down on the private stretch of beach then they were playing in Tony’s pool. At some point yesterday they even had a water balloon fight.

But today neither of them felt like getting wet.

Which is why they were currently hanging out in the kitchen, sitting quietly, bored out of their minds.

Clint was sitting at the island’s counter top. Head resting on his folded arms and empty coffee cup pushed aside. Tony was lounging on the counter by the coffee machine. Back resting on the wall, legs stretched out in front of him, ankles crossed, and coffee pot easily within reach.

“We could go somewhere?” Tony wondered aloud.

Out the corner of his eyes he could see Clint shrug his shoulders. “No.”

“Okay…” Tony’s fingers fiddle with his Stark Industries mug while he stared into the brown liquid. “We could cook something?”

Again Clint shrugged his shoulders, “Eh. Not really hungry.”

Tony wasn’t either. Too used to skipping actual breakfast food in favor of more coffee and lab time. “Video games?”

Clint was already shaking his head no but then he thought about what his boyfriend said. His head popped up in interest. “I’m listening.”

Tony turned and looked at Clint. When his eyes focused in on his lover’s face he immediately had to bite down on his cheek to keep from smiling. Clint had a giant red mark on his forehead from leaning on his arm. It was far too early in the morning for the archer to look that ridiculous. He could feel the skin pulling on his cheeks, wanting to grin but he wasn’t going to. Instead he rolled his lips and sucked his cheeks in trying to stop himself. “Hmm?”

Clint ignored his obvious merriment, “Video games.”

Tony was only faintly smiling now, “Right.” He paused to clear his throat, “I have a theater room here. There’s a bunch of gaming consoles and games in there…”

His sandy blonde boyfriend looked incredulous and slightly irritated with him, “Why am I just now finding out about this!?”

“I don’t know–”

“Well fuck babe, let’s stop wasting time!” With that said he pushed away from the island and took off running down a hall.

Tony had to sigh as he placed his cup down and jumped down from the counter. “JARVIS can you make sure he doesn’t get lost.”

“Would you like me to direct him to the entertainment room?”

He smirked evilly in view of one of JARVIS’ cameras. “Nah, let him figure it out on his own.”

“THIS IS IN YOUR HOUSE?”

“Yes Clinton, honestly there’s no need to shout. I’m literally standing right next to you–”

“IS THAT AN ICEE MACHINE?”

Tony glared at him and crossed his arms over his chest, “Movies are better with a cherry icee…”

“HOW MANY SYSTEMS DO YOU HAV–”

“CLINT.”

“Sorry.” Barton had to physically calm himself down before continuing, “How many gaming consoles do you have?”

Tony looked over at the wall with its multiple screens and system boxes surrounding them. “Almost all of them, new and old.”

“…I think I just popped a boner.”

Tony shoved him aside. “Gross Clint.”

Laughing at his ridiculous boyfriend he walked around the recliners and couches to the TVs. He really did have a lot…Nintendo 64, GameCube, a few Play Stations and Xboxes with an abundance of games to go with them. “So what do you want to play?”

Clint was quick to join him after that and browse the options. He studied them entirely until he stopped on one of the Wii games. “Yes son, we’re about to dance our asses off.” He held up the Michael Jackson Experience.

Tony chuckled at his choice, “Okay. Just don’t get upset when I get all the high scores.”

“Oh whatever twinkle toes, let’s dance!”

Everything, no matter what they played, it seemed like Tony was always winning.

Of course Tony wasn’t kidding about keeping highest score on Michael Jackson. He’s not sure how much experience Tony had playing the game but he moved like he had every step memorized. Thank god Clint had played the game before otherwise he would have looked like a complete fool trying to follow along to the steps. But even songs he was confident he could beat Tony at, like Smooth Criminal or Black and White, he still lost.

At least all the movement got them hungry enough to stop and move onto something else. After ordering in some pizzas they grabbed the GameCube and put in Mario Party 5. But after coming in second to everything they played, Clint in a not so subtle way (he threw the remote down and marched up to the TV to change the game) switched games over to Mortal Kombat. There was no way he’d lose to Tony in this.

Clint watched in a slight daze, hands slack on his controller as Tony’s character, Sub-Zero tore apart his Scorpion avatar.

His brutal defeat was the final straw.

Tony puffed out his chest with pride, “Ah yes, another victory to add to the books. It’s okay dear Clinton, maybe one day you’ll be as good as I–” Clint moved fast, grabbing the abandoned control from the GameCube and tackled Tony to the floor over the pillows they had gathered. With fast efficiency built over years as a spy Clint tied Tony’s hands together with the cord of the controller.

“You little shit! That’s it.”

Tony laughed even as Clint worked his pants over his hips and off his legs, “What are you doing?”

Clint pulled a bottle of lube out of his pocket and slicked his fingers. “You want to be so damn smug…” quickly slicking his finger he pushed one inside of Tony who squeaked at the intrusion, “High score this, first place that. Well I’m ‘bout to turn your ass into a fatality! With my dick!” Even though Clint was clearly pissed off and being a complete sore loser about the whole thing, he took his time prepping Tony. The archer gave him just enough time to adjust before shoving another finger inside of him. It wasn’t really painful but it was definitely rushed and rough.

Tony was very turned on.

Clint must have sensed how much he was enjoying this rough treatment because he cursed at him. “Fuck! Fuck you Tony.” Pulling his fingers out he made quick work of freeing his own erection and positioned it at Tony’s entrance. “Take that!” Without further ado, he shoved home, making Tony’s back bend off the ground and toes curl.

“CLINT!”

He started thrusting almost immediately after he slammed home. Fast and punishing like the game they had been playing. Tony loved it.

“How’s that Tony? How do you like my lethal dick combo?” He rammed his hips forward while tugging his hips closer. Clint adjusted his angle just the slightest so that it pounded into Tony’s prostate on every other thrust.

The genius couldn’t even comment, too caught up on riding the sensations that Clint’s cock was delivering. It wasn’t often that they indulged in something so primal.

If the smirk on his face was anything to go by, Tony’s inability to talk was greatly appreciated by his boyfriend.

Finally, he was on top and he was in charge, Clint thought as he inspected Tony’s debauched self. Head thrown back, moans spilling out of his mouth uncontrollably. Clint bent his head down and bit at Tony’s neck. Marking the clean skin there and worrying the tender flesh until he could work a good hickey into place.

Tony’s tied hands scrambled to find purchase on the back of Clint’s shirt. Desperate to hold on to something as he enjoyed the ride for however long it was about to last. His orgasm was building fast and he could tell the archer was getting close too.

“Clint, Clint, Clint!”

“Yes Tony, that’s it. Come on my cock, come for me.”

He did. Body clenching down around Clint as he shot off like some prepubescent teenager that’s never had sex before. Thankfully Clint wasn’t far behind him, thrusting a few more times before emptying a load inside of him.

They laid there panting and exhausted. Clint on top of him, slowing going soft inside of him as he caught his breath and Tony laid out below him, still tied up.

Once he gathered enough of himself, Tony cracked an eye open and glanced at Clint who had his head turned away.

He smirked, just as planned.

Thank you for reading, let me know what you think!

Also if you could please support me on Ko-fi, I have to buy new tires for my car and possibly a new brakes.

[namjoonchronicles]

paper cranes | jk

↳ Warning Discretion is advised. 

↳ Summary Have you heard about  the legends of 1000 paper cranes?

Four determined limbs fell into the deep water, pristine body delved into the darkness without fear, eyes blasted open straight ahead, her hair floated upward as the waters brought her down.

"Enough..." The invisible chain around her ankles and the rope around her ginger neck, released. Freedom.

"I've had... enough."

Vivid images in the back of her mind resurfaced, all the things she had and all the things she is leaving behind. . . . Today. April 18th, 2018.

Jungkook walked into a profound mess of a house and he was already sighing upon stepping in. His eyes scanned through the mishap that Taehyung left and he sighed a lot harder this time. "Honestly Taehyung..." He groaned as he waddled lazily, kicking the beach ball out of the way so he could enter his room. He left town to see his parents for a week and he returned to a house that doesn't look like a house. There's clothes laying around, everywhere. Laundries from last week that was supposed to be folded is still on the couch where he left it. "Unbelievable," he threw his limp backpack on the side, thinking if he should clean up before or after the shower.

He was really looking forward to rest after the long and endless journey, dealing with homesickness and carrying all the food his mom forced him to Seoul to share with the rest of the boys. And the rest of the boys are out somewhere, and it's just noon. It's possible that they've been out all night. Jungkook set his laptop on the desk and charged while he relish in the neatness of his room. If he doesn't think about what was happening outside the room, he'd be fine. He just ate so he's not hungry. He fiddled with his phone and was about to lay on his bed to begin scrolling endlessly when the battery drains and empty black screen greeted him. He clenched his eyes shut and set the phone to his stomach and exhaled through his nose, sharp. "Nothing is going my way, today," he pinched the cord with his toes and drag them to where he is because he didn't want to leave his bed.

Once he had them plugged, and they flashed a white screen, he muttered, "You're alive. Don't leave me." He hugged the phone. Then he left his phone to charge with the screen facing down. Jungkook will not leave this room until someone cleans up. He was determined. When he stared to the ceiling, he noticed a small heart sticker was there on the wall that he didn't remember putting there. When he took a closer look, he realised how familiar they looked. "...it can't be." He muttered under his breathe. And that was he heard the main door opened with several voice of different pitches and he knew that his housemates are home. He dashed out, to see the boys gathering some things for the kitchen. Jimin with his racks of sprites and Seokjin was swatting away naughty hands that are trying to steal away snacks. Yoongi was already grumbling in a grandpa mode, "Don't fight..." while hooking the car key on the key holder. Somewhere in the back, Jungkook heard Namjoon's voice, complaining about Hoseok placing his shoes in the freeway.

The boy with his universe eyes dashed to Namjoon. "Was she...Did she." Namjoon frowned at him. "Okay, breathe. One by one. Who are you talking about, Jungkook?"

"There's a sticker in my room," Jungkook sputtered the words out in half-panic.

Namjoon and the rest entered Jungkook's room. Everyone give way for Namjoon to look closer and Jimin had his phone in his hand, his lips pouted out. "...Should we call the cops?" Yoongi is peering through Hoseok's shoulder, incredibly quiet. "You're sure this sticker wasn't here before?" Seokjin asked, doubtful of Jungkook's accusation. "Maybe you bought it, and can't remember?" It was Jimin's turn to interrogate.

"Was this here before?" Taehyung's voice pierced through the conversation, coming from underneath the desk, holding out a jar full of colorful paper cranes. At the same time, Jimin handed a paper sticker, peeking under the lamp table.

Jungkook pushed Jimin to the side and went to fetch that jar Taehyung found from under his desk.

The paper that Jimin handed. It was the same sticker; heart sticker. With one missing, which is on the wall right now. Jungkook then faced Namjoon, holding that glass jar with big wondrous eyes. "Oh, you bought that one when we were out drinking the other night before you left for Busan!" Taehyung chirped as he climbs out from under the desk. Namjoon gazed back at him, but cut the eye contact brief--a sign of hopelessness, disappointment, perhaps, sympathy. "...Jungkook," Hoseok sighed and Seokjin slid his hand down Jungkook's arm, trying to soothe him, before they all leave the room. Yoongi was the last one.

"...Hyung, I'm not imagining things, I promise," Jungkook pleaded with all his heart. Yoongi dropped his gaze to the wall next to Jungkook. 

"Jungkook, stop. It's been...years.

She's been missing for years. Jungkook, enough." Yoongi added.

No. Yoongi is wrong. Everyone is wrong. She's here. Jungkook can feel it. His jar wasn't this full before. He was certained.

Seokjin fidgeted his eyes on Jungkook's empty seat as he lay out the plates and Jimin rushes out of his seat and dashed to Jungkook's room. "Jungkook. Food. Dinner," he knocks several time. "It's dinner time, what are you doing," Jimin forced open the door and surprisingly, it wasn't locked. Jungkook is on the floor, his legs circling the mysterious jar, several creased paper next to his feet. He was unfolding all the paper cranes he made. "I know I couldn't possibly made this much in one night. There's must be something in one of these cranes that she needs me to know, this was her last gift to me," Jungkook's voice is shaky and full of determination. He sounded insane, and Jimin said exactly what he thinks.

Suddenly, a shuffling was heard from Jungkook's room and it had Namjoon yelling, "Hey!"

Namjoon threw his beanies down the floor and Seokjin followed right after then Yoongi and Hoseok, and last Taehyung. But Hoseok began to rush his steps the moment he heard muffled breathing.

When he got there and pushed the door open, he was horrified.

Jungkook had his hand around Jimin's throat as the smaller one laying on the floor. Both Namjoon and Hoseok had to step in between the two and pulled them from each other. "What the fuck is going on?!" Hoseok cussed, loudly. Roaring was heard through the halls. The half-eaten food on the table left abandoned. The wall clock ticks, undisturbed. Jungkook yanked his whole body out of Namjoon's grasp and took the semi empty jar out with him, his eyes red from resisting tears. Namjoon held Yoongi back from trying to follow Jungkook. "Leave him be... clearly something had happened," he spoke in low and calm voice. Seokjin pursed his lips to the unfolded cranes and knelt down to the floor to see better. Then he looks up to Namjoon, "What if she's not dead?"

Seokjin handed one unfolded crane to Namjoon, "Look closely."

There's lines on them.

Summer, October 2013. Busan Beach.

Seokjin zoomed his camera to Jungkook splashing the water at you, and you were avoiding each attack with very little effort. Then you pushed Jungkook when he was trying to blow a float you told him to. He fell in, and is completely drenched. Namjoon and Seokjin watched and laughed. "He's going to go after her," Namjoon predicted and he was right, because Jungkook caught you in no time. Then he throws your body over his shoulders and dropped you into the water like you were weightless. Hair plastered to your head and standing with the water up to your chest, when it just reaches Jungkook's waist, he helped you dry off the salty sea water from your eyelids with his thumbs, cupping your face and making sure you're alright. "Knowing her, she'll come with a counter attack, soon," Yoongi sipped his cola through a spiral straw. You did, you splashed the seawater into Jungkook's eyes as well.

"Endless..." Hoseok shook his head, "...When will they be calm with each other? Look at that. Just look at that," Hoseok pointed out with his chin when Jungkook is tipping you and your unicorn float over. "Someone will start crying and then only they'll stop," Seokjin hums in relaxation, sighing to his beach seat. "What will Jungkook do... her tears are his weakness," Namjoon peered at Jungkook who is now looking concerned when you turned away from him. "Jimin will come to the rescue, as usual..." Yoongi predicted and there comes Jimin, lowering his head to see your eyes. His mouth was moving and it was obvious, he was asking, "Are you alright?" And then he shoved Jungkook's chest away before returning to you and held his hand out for you to take, out of the beach. "But she can only be comforted by Taehyung's hug," Yoongi added. Taehyung froze in his step, coming from the nearby shoppe. His black shades was covering half his face while he snapped his head in your direction as you brought by Jimin.

Taehyung's voice propelled through the strong wind, as he roared, "What happened?! Who made you cry? Which one was it?!" in a playful way of anger, like how you would console a child. You extended your arms to him and rammed into Taehyung's chest till he stepped back a little before completing the hug with his own able arms, watched by Jimin. Hoseok watched through the binoculars. "Jimin is probably doing the tell-tale now. That all of this is Jungkook's doing, while Jungkook is," Hoseok commented as he observed. And when the binoculars turned to Jungkook, he is now kicking air, looking very guilty but making no attempt to be near her. "Fun is over because she is asking Taehyung to fetch her dry clothes," Yoongi sighed. "Pack it up boys," Namjoon chuckled. You sat on the window seat, calmly. Avoiding Jungkook. He had his ear plugged with an earphone with no songs on, putting his hoodies over his head and pretended to sleep.

"You alright?" Taehyung asked, gently from the back seat. You passed him a subtle smile and nodded. "Sorry we had to cut the trip short, my parents was going to kill me if I don't come home on time," you mashed your lips together, looking tensed. Yoongi looked at you through the rearview mirror and blinked cutely, and you knew from that gesture alone, everything was going to be okay. "...I am heavily concerned on how you guys will behave on my graduation day later," You giggled and Jimin snapped his head at you, "When was it? I don't recall you telling us." Seokjin scoffed, "...She's not going to tell you, stop flattering yourself." You glanced over at Jungkook who is sitting next to you because the others picked their seat faster than you did. And honestly, you don't mind it, because Jungkook smells nice. Jungkook always smells nice. It looked like he was having a good sleep. "Are you mad at him?" Yoongi asked. "Never... I was just, fooling around with him, it was fun. I want to do it again," You gushed with a smile.

"Watching him guilty gives you excitement ha?" Yoongi chuckled. "A bit." He looked adorable.

Half-way through the journey, everyone was asleep but you and Yoongi. Namjoon's head kept banging on the window so Seokjin pulled his head to his shoulder, so he could sleep better. Jimin was snoring softly in the front passenger seat. Taehyung and Hoseok was hoarding the back seat. You felt your eyes straining from watching the sea from a moving car, feeling the euphoric sensation waning as you get farther and farther away from the sands. Yoongi yawned but did it quietly to not wake everyone. Jungkook's lips parted a little from the way his head was tilted to the back as he slept. You inched closer to him and remembered that he gave up his window seat for you because he knows you liked watching the trees and the road when you're in the car. Then you took off one of his earphone and placed them in your ear. You lay your head on his chest gently, and that was when you realised that he wasn't listening to anything. In fact, the end of the cord fall out of his pocket, and it was unconnected.

He heard. Everything.

You gaze up to his sleeping face and jawline. "Maybe he didn't listened." You consoled yourself. At least, you hoped. Laying your head once more, you silently prayed, "Please..." Slowly, you took the end of the cord of his earphone and plug them into your phone, playing Natalie Taylor's Surrender.

You shut your eyes as the music entered your soul. You felt his cheek set themselves on top of your head, and you nestled--awkwardly at first, but gradually felt comfortable. He let out a small, muffled moan in his sleep, but his eyes is now open at you. He hadn't slept at all. And he heard everything. Question was, how was he going to reciprocate the feeling when he has always been bad at expression feeling through words?

Yoongi reached the resting area and while the rest of the boys exited the car to pee or buy snacks, Jungkook remained there with you. His shoulder felt numb and he flexed his arm a bit, stirring you awake without the intentions to. You clenched your eyes hard, lazily opening your eyes from the long journey. You looked around and saw the car empty. "...Where's everybody?" You mewled and turned to Jungkook's side where he froze in his seat, eyes blown open. You gave his expresssion a double-take and softened your face. "I was going to tell him today..." You suddenly say. "That you liked him?" Jungkook stammered, shifting in his seat, feeling slightly uncomfortable. "Why didn't you...? You're nervous?" Jungkook added.

"Practice it on me then." He suggested, and muster up invincible courage in a slight hesitation because he's shy after he felt guilty. "I love you," you bluntly say. "That wasn't so hard, now was it?" He cocked an eyebrow and looked around for Taehyung but he wasn't anywhere near, "Now go tell him."

You stared at the back of his head and whispered, "I just did."

Jungkook snapped his head in your direction with a surprised look as the word registered in his brain. He swallowed a thick gulp, and you cupped his face for a deep kiss and sent him into a frenzy of feelings he didn't understand. He unknowingly closed his eyes to brace himself of the taste he never knew he needed until now. Jungkook let out a disgruntled moan against your lips and it sounded as if he's a bit scared but can't stop himself from wanting more when you parted a bit from him. Jungkook lunged forward to close the distance again until the sound of Hoseok laughing shattered the moment, followed by the harsh yank of the door being opened. Seokjin frowned at you and then at Jungkook. You had glued your back to the window and Jungkook took off his hoodie to cover his lap. "You don't want to go to the toilet? We have 75 miles to go..." Namjoon pushed Seokjin's hand off and entered the car.

Jungkook realised that the car began moving without Taehyung so he spoke out. Jimin fixed his black glasses using the mirror on the front seat and tipped his hair, "What are you talking about, Taehyung's asleep on the floor there. The guy gave up food for sleep." Jungkook snapped his head at you and you were as surprised as he is. Mouthing angrily at him, "You said no one was here." Jungkook hissed right back, "I didn't know, okay..."

End.

April 19th, 2018.

Jungkook ran off to be under the bridge where you used to hangout with him, hugging the jar he was convinced you left for him. "...Where are you?" He whispered to the wind, unbothered about the cold but still, he shivered. If he closes his eyes, he could still hear your voice in his ear, right next to him.

Spring, April 2014.

"Jungkook. Jungkook... Jeon Jungkook?" He blasted his eyes open and smiled at you who was sitting next to him. "Yes?" He replied gently.

"Do you ever feel like you're behind everything in the world?" You looked up to the sky, vibrant blue the way your eyes perceives them, clouds, scattered here and there, "Like how you stand here and how things are moving despite you are standing still. That wherever you are, times keeps on moving." Jungkook blinks to the sky like you did and relished in the warmth the sun granted him. "...It's okay to stop for awhile and just, exist," Jungkook sighed and smiled genuinely. "I don't want to exist," you sighed, smiled completely wiped off. "But I do...don't my thoughts matter?" Jungkook leans his head on your shoulders. You chuckled, and ran your fingers through his hair.

He circled his arms around your hip, squeezed. And it felt better. Everything felt better.

"How was your day?" you purred. "Better now that you're here," he inhaled your scent like it was oxygen and he was suffocating.

Jungkook will only feel safe when you're around. But he's not the kind to ask for your time. Even though if he's close to kill himself, missing you. He spurs around in the middle of the bed, laying in fetal position, scrolling down to your name and read all the past messages, trying to see if he said something wrong. "...Where, is she. Why is she not texting me. What is she doing that is so important than me...??" He would say to himself. He would feel neglected, and then hatred, and not too long after, pathetic. For wanting someone, needing someone badly that he loses his mind. And then you'll text him out of the blue after you're done with what ever you're occupied with, mostly studying and preparing for events in college.

And you're not going to lie that you don't think about him every minute of every second of everyday because you do. You thought space would be good too. Maybe he'll want some time alone, and he's always creative in spending his time so you'd think it'd be a great thing. While you keep yourself occupied, Jungkook would be busy working on his passion. It was a synergic relationship where you need each other but won't force each other to be with each other.

Jungkook woke up with a paper crane on his side table in the morning when you leave his room. It would make him smile wider than anything else in the world, so he got himself a jar. He'll put them in whenever you make one. There are times you just stare into his soul and in complete silence, hunch down at him laying down on his back on the bed there, him between your legs, and he thumbs your cheek with that unreadable expression on his face, his lips parted a little, thinking you'll vanish into air if he comes nearer. With the moonlight as the only witness, you whispered to him,

"Don't make me sad, don't make me cry..."

He shook his head, unable to utter a word. Keeping his eyes on you as if you'll disappear if you look away. His fingers rake softly through one side, and then cupping both side of your head when you closed the distance in an achingly slow motion, nibbling your soft petal to embrace his. A sharp intake of air coming from him as you kissed him, gave you a rush of serotonin, sending your blood coursing through your veins while his touch begins to be increasingly sensual.

He likes his girl to be elegantly spriteful. You would run straight into a downpour, when everyone else is searching for shelter. "Come take a walk on the wild side, Jungkook..." You screamed through the heavy rain, outfits already drenched, hair plastered to your face and Jungkook runs in with an umbrella. You smiled at him, and he said, "...we're going to get ill, you have exams in two weeks!" You pretended as if you want to hold the umbrella and then threw it to the side, "...fuck exams." Jungkook shut his eyes like a complete fool in love as his shirt began to stain with every drop of rain, then he bit his smile at you. He shakes his head at you, staring in disbelieve but incredibly enamoured. "I've been wanting to do this," you said to him. And he tilt his head to the side, "Do what?"

You giggled hard, "... kiss you hard in the pouring rain." He snapped his head to the side, and you watched his gorgerous jaw line as he bit his lips at your words, "Then, why don't you?" He turned back at you and cocked his eyebrow in a brash, cunning manner. "Can't reach your face..." you bursted in laughter, covering your eyes. Jungkook carried you up by the waist and you squealed in surprised before giggling, circling your legs around his hip. You searched for his face and kissed him the way you had been imagining. Jungkook had never been happier.

Another paper crane. He entered the bathroom and saw a heart sticker on his forehead. That's how you claim your property. Jungkook gladly collect them on his desktop. And then silence. Complete silence from you. For days.

Days turned into weeks. His dorm got broken into. All prized possessions is gone. Desktop too. All the heart stickers. Jungkook was devastated but continue to have a positive outlook, because he knows if you miss him, you'll come. Weeks turned into months.

"Babe? Where are you?" Unread, unreplied. Calls went unanswered. Your old voicemails were the only thing he had left. And the jar of paper cranes.

That was in August 30th, 2014.

If he closes his eyes, he could still hear your voice in his ear, right next to him. On April 20th, he begins to see a pattern in those cranes. The words are your little thoughts of him and when he turned the paper around, it was a fragment of a bigger picture. Jungkook moved all the furnitures to the side to make room for those unfolded paper cranes. "Like puzzles," he remembered your voice. He chanted, staring widely on the floor where he placed them, "Like puzzles ha baby?"

So he knelt and went to work. The boys comes home to Jungkook being obsessed, rearranging for thousand times. Jimin made sure he stayed away from Jungkook. Taehyung came to help sometimes.

And when he does, he'd speak about memories of you. "Do you remember that she chews her ice creams? We always thought how weird that was..." Taehyung chuckled, eyes shining as he stared at down the scattered pieces of you in these paper cranes. Jungkook was silent. "What do you think this is?" Taehyung asked. "I'm not sure yet..." Jungkook answered short. "Why did she do it Jungkook? She's the happiest person I know..." Taehyung's voice slowed down. "I know this is the last thing you want to hear, but I really don't think she's here anymore..." Taehyung whispered.

Jungkook fixed one more piece and stated, "...alive until proven otherwise."

Yoongi walked out his room at 3AM and saw Jungkook alone, still trying. He sat there on the floor to see his face. "...She won't like this, Jungkook. She was a sad girl. She was holding onto pieces. What are you going to do with all these once you find out that its nothing? Then you'll left with nothing..." Yoongi adviced. "She's happy when I met her, and she's happy the last time I saw her, she's happy," Jungkook stressed.

"What are you expecting from these unfoldings?" "An answer. Hope. Something she wanted me to know." "And if you don't get any of those?"

Silence. Yoongi knows that there will be something for Jungkook from you, but he didn't want to give false hopes. Yoongi left the room knowing he had done very little to convince Jungkook out of his insanity. Somewhere around 7am, Namjoon walked into the house watching Jungkook finally arranging the photos to a picture of a bridge. The river he sat by a few days ago. "I did it, she's here. She's there."

Jungkook smiled. Maybe she's waiting there for him. In her white sun dress, her hair in the wind and a soft smile, waving at him.

And that was when Seokjin came out of his room with a sad expression and spoke as if he had something to say. Hoseok watched him grabbed the TV's remote control while Jungkook turned 500 origamis around because he saw a writing on them. The television blinked into breaking news.

"...found underneath the Wonhyo bridge today at 3.47AM. Police and investigators arrived at the scene after a sighting from pedestrians noticing a young women leaping off the edge. She had been missing for five years after her graduation day," Jungkook's heart sank. "Why..." he breathed. Taehyung helped him turn over the whole picture and you wrote in cursive letters,

"Only happiness." Jungkook darted out the front door with the others.

Flashback.

"Have you ever heard of the paper cranes?" "Paper cranes? Those origami folds?" "They say...if you make 1000 of those cranes, your wish will come true."

"If you're going to make, lets say, 1000 cranes for me, your sweetheart. What will you wish for me?" You looked at him intently. You looked into his soul and smiled. Only happiness.

In the walls of the hospitals, the emergency unit,

"...Code blue, heart stopped again! Initiate chest compression!" The doctor begins resuscitating. "Clear!" Heart line flattens. "One more time, guys. Clear!" Heart beats, and then flattens. "We almost got her, one more. Clear!"

Heart beats twice. Flattens. "Come on now girl. Come back.  Don't die on me! Clear!" Heart flattens.

The heart lines flattens. It flattens. No peaks are formed anymore, and the beep is long. Emergency sign blinking red.

Jungkook clenched his eyes shut, and prayed. "Don’t you dare."

Doctor repeated the compression and doesn't stop. The heartline doesn't revive. It flattens for the longest 2 minutes. And then,

Miracle.

[mikegranich87]

The best Switch controllers for every player level

The Nintendo Switch is pretty popular, but its included Joy-Cons aren’t for everyone. Some players feel the detachable controllers are a bit small for their hands. Many players miss having a regular D-pad. Whatever your reasons for wanting to upgrade your Switch controller situation, know that there are alternatives — it’s just a matter of picking the one that fits your needs. We tested out a bunch of Switch controllers to see which are worth your money.

For casual gaming: Joy-Cons

Kris Naudus / Engadget

Honestly, there’s a lot to like about the included Joy-Cons. They come right in the box and can be separated from the system so two people can play. The system also includes a special gamepad grip so you can hold them in your hand like any standard controller. So if you are in fact, happy with your Joy-Cons, there’s no need to switch them out. Just tweak them a little depending on your needs. Find them a tad too small? FastSnail’s matte rubber shells can make them a little easier for large hands to hold, and Hori’s Analog Caps can make the thumb sticks grippier. 

Buy FastSnail grips at Amazon - $14Buy Hori analog caps at Amazon - $9

There’s really no good way to replace the Joy-Cons entirely with a third-party copy. Some Joy-Con-like controllers won’t connect wirelessly, while others lack key features like vibration or an NFC reader. But there are some tradeoffs that are worth it. For example, if you like to play a lot of 2D platformers in handheld mode, Hori’s D-pad controller will restore the beloved cross-shaped directional button to your gameplay. If you’re looking for something that’s also more comfortable in your hand, the company’s $50 Split Pad Pro is also worth a look. It has a D-pad on the left side and a more ergonomic grip than your standard set of Joy-Cons. But it also makes the entire assembled Switch a lot chunkier.

If you like to play your Switch with groups (or you’ve experienced the dreaded “drift” issue), chances are you’ve picked up one or two extra pairs of Joy-Cons. Which means you’re going to need a place to charge the spares. PowerA makes an excellent $25 charging station that can be plugged into your Switch dock (or any device with a USB port) and handles four Joy-Con-like controllers at once — that includes third-party gamepads as well as Nintendo’s own Switch-compatible NES controllers (see below).

Buy Hori D-pad controller at Amazon - $60Buy Split Pad Pro at Amazon - $88Buy PowerA charging dock at Amazon - $25

For action-packed games: Pro-level controllers

Kris Naudus / Engadget

Sometimes you just want a standard controller to play your favorite action titles — and standard in 2020 means something like you’d get packed in with an Xbox, with grips for the heels of your hands, shoulder buttons and triggers, two thumb sticks, a set of four buttons on the right and a D-pad on the left. Nintendo knows that, which is why it created the Pro Controller. This first-party gamepad pairs easily with the Switch and features a D-pad on the left, while still maintaining features like the infrared sensor and vibration that might go missing on third-party alternatives. The only downside is the $70 price, but avid players of games like Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild will appreciate the refined controls and increased comfort.

While you can plug your Pro Controller directly into your Switch dock to charge, it’s not the most elegant solution. PowerA also makes an attractive $25 dock that accommodates both Joy-Cons and the Pro Controller, which should keep your gaming area nice and tidy.

Buy Pro Controller at Amazon - $70Buy PowerA dock at Amazon - $25

Kris Naudus / Engadget

When the price of the Pro Controller is a bit rich for your blood or out of stock, PowerA makes its own version with the same arrangement of buttons. The Enhanced Wireless Controller skips the rechargeable battery in favor of AAs, which has its downsides, but at least when it runs low on juice you can just pop in a new pair of batteries and get right back to gaming. Unfortunately, there’s no USB-C port to connect with so you’ll have to pair the device wirelessly — which can be finicky and may take a few tries before your Switch recognizes the controller. It also lacks vibration, so you won’t get tactile feedback in games where it’s helpful. And the plus and minus buttons are placed a bit closer to the center, so those with smaller hands will have to reach a bit further to press them.

If you’d prefer not to have to recharge — or buy batteries for — your gamepad, PowerA also makes a wired version of the same controller that connects via USB. It’s got the same look and feel, but you won’t have to struggle as much with getting your console to recognize it, and there’s no potential for wireless lag, making it ideal for fast-paced shooters and fighting games. The included cord is 10 feet long so it should reach most couches just fine.

While most third-party controllers tend to mimic the Xbox style of gamepad, anyone more familiar with the PlayStation’s distinctive DualShock design will probably prefer the $50 Pro 2 from 8BitDo. The retro-styled controller has the same general layout as the classic SNES gamepad, but adds twin thumb sticks, palm grips, back buttons, control remapping and even sensitivity adjustments. It’s truly the Swiss Army knife of Switch controllers.

Buy Enhanced Wireless controller at Amazon - $60Buy PowerA wired controller at Amazon - $23Buy 8bitdo Pro 2 at Amazon - $50

For old school gaming: Niche and retro controllers

Kris Naudus / Engadget

Twenty years later and the preferred controller layout for Super Smash Bros. players is still the one made for the GameCube, which is why today it’s still possible to buy new gamepads straight from Nintendo. The Super Smash Bros. Ultimate Edition GameCube Controller is identical in layout and design to the original gamepads, though now it connects via USB so it can be used with the Switch. The only downside to the reissue is that it doesn’t come in a bold shade of purple anymore.

However, if you’re still sporting a classic GameCube controller with its proprietary connector, you can also pick up an adapter that will let your Switch accommodate up to four old-school gamepads. Nintendo sells one on its store, but the Y Team controller adapter is also a good alternative that costs less and can be bought at Amazon.

But you might not want to be tethered to your console — especially if you have fond memories of kicking back on your couch with a Wavebird in hand to play GameCube games like Super Smash Bros. Brawl and Killer 7. PowerA’s Nintendo GameCube-Style wireless controller is the closest you can get to recreating that feeling short of plugging a few RF dongles into a GameCube adapter.

Buy Smash Bros. controller at Amazon - $73Buy Y Team adapter at Amazon - $14Buy PowerA Game Cube-style controller at Amazon - $55

Devindra Hardawar / Engadget

What if your retro tastes go even further back, say to the NES and SNES era? If you’re subscribed to Nintendo Online, you have access to over 100 classic titles, so you might want a more “authentic” controller to use with them. Nintendo Online subscribers can buy retro-style wireless gamepads directly from the company, though the $60 set of two small, rectangular NES controllers will remind you why we’ve moved on from that design. The dog-bone shape of the $30 SNES model is more hand friendly and can still be used with the NES games, so it’s a better use of your funds should you decide you want to recreate your childhood gaming experiences.

If you don’t need an exact copy of your beloved childhood gamepads it’s worth looking at 8BitDo instead: It makes a variety of classic-styled controllers that add just enough modern features to make them useful for a wider variety of games. Its models are almost all wireless, and there are some design changes to make the controllers more comfortable and easier to use. We’ve already recommended the DualShock-like Pro 2, but the $45 SN30 Pro also offers features like dual thumb sticks and vibration in the dog-bone controller style.

If you’re looking for something more portable, however, the $25 8BitDo Lite is smaller and swaps out the thumb sticks for two D-pads, keeping the four button arrangement on each side. It’s great for 2D games and it even matches the color scheme of the Switch Lite. 

Before you try any of the controllers listed in this guide, remember to update your Switch to the latest firmware — the 8BitDo controllers will run on any version, but the PowerA gamepads need your system to run at least version 6.0.0.

Buy NES controller pack at Nintendo - $60Buy SNES controller at Nintendo - $30Buy SN30 Pro at Amazon - $45Buy 8bitdo Lite at Amazon - $25

from Mike Granich https://www.engadget.com/best-nintendo-switch-controllers-160034389.html?src=rss

[orphancookie69]

4/20: Switch Lite: Bad Marketing & Video Review Story

I spoke a little bit about Nintendo before, but before I delve into my Nintendo Switch Lite story-I want to speak a little bit more about the company. Anyone who reads my blogs knows that I am also a fan of Apple. What does apple have to do with Nintendo? Both companies are focused on their industry and products, while products change over time-there is something about them that is timeless and you know, regardless of age, when your holding a Nintendo or Apple product. When these companies make splashes, it is a huge splash. Apple with the iPhone or iPod-Nintendo with Wii and Switch. Other companies in the same industry go against their go to design to integrate what these companies bring to the industry. When Nintendo and Apple are quiet preparing for a new splash, other companies try to "get ahead" and come out with a system or update before they do only to find they rush to compete with the two companies when they do actually speak about their update. The Nintendo Switch is the most recent product from Nintendo.

What does this have to do with me? Well, I love Nintendo consoles and handhelds-since I was a wee lad. When the switch came out, I wanted it but as usual I wait for it to be out for a year or two and hope the price goes down-I try to be a responsible gamer. I would put it on Christmas lists and hope it showed up, no luck so far. In quarantine, my bff decided we needed to get one and the switch lite had come out- $100 cheaper than its first gen counterpart. I at first was leaning towards the first gen Switch. As a console and handheld, you can take it to go or plug in to the TV and play with your family all those classic Mario games. I did what I always do when deciding to do a major financial purchase-watch review videos on YouTube. Comparing Switch to Switch Lite seemed really unfair, since the first gen Switch actually got a major update the the switch lite (more handheld version) had a hard time comparing to the version that could go to your TV. The switch lite was amazing comparing to other handhelds, but awful when comparing to other consoles. So I turned my bff to a first gen switch.

So a day or so later we go out into the world to try and find a switch, after having a heck of a time finding one online to save our lives! While we are out looking for a first gen Switch, we see the lites running out as well. Nintendo, by the way is doing really well right now. We try to wait for a shipment to come in and preorder, but the preorders are gone in minutes. So we decide to switch gears and go for a lite. We barely find a switch, and after that the game and accessory sections become ransacked. I am literally talking about ransacked after  day or so. I can not even tell you how many posts I have seen of people looking for switches since I started looking for one myself. But between online ordering, Gamestop, and Walmart-me and my friend have switches and attempt to social distance using Animal Crossing.

Something I did not expect to happen, was to be as happy and happier over time with the Switch Lite. Nintendo with the Switch and Switch Lite have merged Console and Handheld, and it is as incredible as the Wii and Wii Fit was when it came out, getting people off their couches. I know when I held my switch lite for the first time, I felt a feeling I hadn't felt in a long time-I felt like a kid opening up my Game Boy Color, gold and silver version, with Pikachu on it and thinking...how did they materialize perfection? That excitement, feeling it in your hand, the adventures your about to digitally have...its an awesome feeling. But even more than the unboxing, with the right accessories the Switch Lite is as good or better than the Switch. It also even has the amiibo reader built into the device! Accessories are an easy way for any company to make money after selling the main item, and Amiibos are this for Nintendo. There's three ways I enjoy the switch lite right now:

a) Handheld: Playing alone or online, chat with the Nintendo Switch App. The Switch Lite is a good size for holding, good graphics, decent battery life, and when your battery is low, place your device in a metal holder and plug her in.

b) Single Player Console: Place device in holder and plug in Gamecube Wired Remote (a great comeback remote btw!) into your device. This makes for a great playing experience, but does drain your device, so you will need to trade your remote for a charging cord in due time.

c) Multi Player Console: Place device in holder and connect wireless joycons to the device. Make sure they are charged before hand, and if needed place them in a grip if you have two players that need comfort. If you have four players, each joycon acts as its own remote. If your joycons are not charged and you have a two player experience, you can get a splitter and plug your Gamecube wired remotes into the splitter and play off of one device.

I know as your reading this, your wondering what do you need to recreate this? I will tell you:

Important - Internet card ($20), Nintendo Switch App, Switch Lite/Charger ($200), SD Card ($25), Case ($15), Screen Protector ($10), Games ($15+)

Supplementary - Amiibos ($5/ea), Mini Backpack for storage of all things Switch ($25), Metal Holder ($20), Switch Splitter ($30), Joy Cons ($80), Joy Con Charger ($20), Joy Con Grip ($10), Wired Remote ($25), USB to C adapter ($5)

If anyone is analytical, they took a couple of minutes to add all those numbers up. In case you don't want to add it all up-its $550+ (depending on if you get more than one of anything). Video games are not a cheap hobby. So part of what surprised me is, there are a lot of people who claim they are not doing well or not paying their rent because times are tough but Nintendo products are ransacked. Anyone investing in a Nintendo System is easily spending $500+ dollars. I thought this would be an ok time to look for something like this and everyone is getting one to pass the quarantine time with. I really hope everyone who is buying this is also being responsible. To be fair to Gamestop, anyone who reads my blog will understand my feelings for them, they are the only reliable store to get Switch and accessories from right now. Target and Walmart are trying, but they are not competing with Gamestop for Switches right now. Also, with the Switch-Nintendo is veering away from having the same titles over and over and getting more into cheap indie games. When you spend that much money on a system, its nice to have cheap but good games.

[therearemonstersinthedark]

Astronautical Ch5: Things Are Gonna Get Easier

A Guardians of the Galaxy Fanwork

Pairings: n/a

Genre: Adventure, general

Word Count: 6k +

Rating: T to be safe, minor violence and swearing

Links: Fanfiction.net || Ao3

Summary:   Korath is here, and he brought a couple of unwelcome surprises with him.

Author’s Notes: This chapter wound up being a lot longer than I had intended and I almost broke it up into two separate Chapters, but I just like the flow a lot better this way.ALSO! I will be adding a one-shot side story from a scene that Peter makes a reference to in this chapter! It can be read as a stand-alone, and just didn't fit anywhere in the text, so I will be uploading it as it's own separate but related work. Please feel free to check it out after you finish this chapter!As usual, all characters and the original story belongs to Marvel, this is purely a fan-work written for enjoyment.

Astronautical Chapter 5: Things are Gonna Get Easier

Thanos's children were nothing if not efficient. They had hardly even acknowledged each other before Korath was raising his blaster and taking deadly aim at his sister. Nebula dodged the first blast, dropping into a roll and slinging one of her knives straight into the barrel of his blaster before she slipped through the doorway to her bedroom.

Korath flung his now useless weapon away, grabbing a smaller hand gun type weapon from a holster on his hip and darting in after her. The Kree soldiers moved to follow but were forced to fall back and scatter when Drax, apparently on their side for now, although it could just be that he was happy for any excuse to partake in violence, flung the fancy mahogany table across the room like an oversized frisbee.

Peter's blasters were still sitting uselessly on his bed where he had left them that morning, so while the soldiers scrambled out of the way and Topaz hurriedly bundled the Grandmaster from the room, he darted in and snatch up Korath's discarded weapon, ripping Nebula's dagger from its barrel.

"Grab him!" Someone screamed from across the room, "Thanos wants him alive."

"Oh flark." He hissed, diving over the closest couch and firing up the very mean looking kree blaster in his hands. "Please don't blow up." He pleaded, aiming at one of the closest soldiers and sqeezing the trigger when the bar of soft pink light on the side filled up.

Whatever this weapon was, it had one hell of a kick, tossing Peter back and firing wildly into the ceiling instead of what he had been aiming for. Dazed and slightly winded, Peter groaned and tried to roll over onto his stomach. He was pretty sure he could hear Drax laughing at him through the ringing in his ears.

As the world regained focus he felt a gloved hand grab the back of his coat and yank him up but was prompty dropped back to the floor when Drax ripped the Kree soldier off of him, flinging them like a ragdoll across the room. There was a terrible crunch when they smacked against the bar counter, folding awkwardly against it before slumping lifelessly to the floor. The other soldiers fell back a few paces, creating some space between themselves and those formidable fists, taking aim with their guns as they spread out to circle the room.

"Here." Peter shouted, rolling to his feet and tossing Drax the heavy blaster. "Cover me."

With Nebula's dagger gripped tight in one hand Peter quickly scuttled across the empty space between the couch and the doorway to his own room. Several purple beams burnt ugly holes into the carpet under his feet as he ran, but judging by the sounds of the loud crashes and Drax's continued laughter behind him, the soldiers had their hands too full to really focus on him so he pushed forward. He made it to his room with only a few singed hairs, shoving Nebula's blade into his boot for safekeeping and snatching his element blasters from the bed. A wave of relief washed over him as he balanced their familiar weight in his hands. A chorus of screeches and another, much louder crash from the main room hailed the untimely end of one of the big plush couches.

Almost as an afterthought, Peter grabbed the bag he'd brought back from the market the night before, slightly lighter after a day and a half of snacking, and slung it over his shoulder before heading back out. In the brief time that Peter had been gone Drax had reduced the swarm of Kree soldiers into a small cluster of three survivors who were firing at him from behind the kitchen island, and another pair who were clearly having a terrible time trying to engage him up close without being gutted by the maniac's twin blades. As Peter raised one twin blaster at the trio in the kitchen something heavy collided into his side and sent him tumbling across the floor.

A string of colorful curses filled his ears as Nebula scrambled off of him, ripping one of Peter's blasters out of his hand and firing it at Korath as he charged after them, forcing him to duck behind the last couch.

"Let's go!" She commanded, grabbing the back of Peter's coat and yanking him roughly to his feet.

"What? But we're winning!" He protested as he was hauled towards the door like a child.

"This pitiful display isn't all Korath brought with him." Almost as though summoned by that thought a great humming filled the room and a heavily weaponized Kree ship pulled into view of the large window across the suite.

"Oh, shit. Time to leave, Drax!" Peter yelped, ripping free from Nebula's grip and firing at the soldiers in the kitchen with his remaining blaster as he and the assasin made a break for the front door, Drax flinging off his attackers and thundering after them.

Out in the hallway Nebula lead them straight to a service elevator around the corner.

"Here. This will lead to the bay where the ships are docked." As she spoke Drax slammed his shoulder into the door, slipping his fingers through the gap he created and ripping it off with a roar. Nebula wasted no time in slipping under his arms and leaping straight down the dark shaft. With a joyous laugh, as though this was all some sort of silly game, -and perhaps to him it was- Drax lept in afterwords.

Peter hesitated just long enough to activate his mask and check the boosters on his boots before following as well. The sounds of thundering and angry shouts from down the hallway faded as he free-fell feet first into the darkness, the night vision on his mask the only way he could see the walls and avoid activating his boots too late. How Drax and Nebula navigated the dark descent so deftly was beyond him. After an uncomfortably long drop he eventually spotted his two companions. Drax was holding on to the supports on the sides of the shaft while working to pry open a set of doors that Nebula indicated with the blaster she still hadn't returned to Peter, her other hand holding herself up with the dagger that she had buried into the elevator shaft's walls.

Peter activated his boots, slowing his decent and struggling to remain upright in the narrow space. They were designed more for propelling him in space and helping him across gaps than for hovering in one narrow place for an extended period of time. He always felt much like a child learning to stand in skates for the first time. Luckily, Drax made short work of this door as well and they all spilled onto the new floor before Peter face-planted into the metal siding.

The new room they found themselves in was a spacious hangar of sorts. Ships of all makes hung in their bays, gleaming under the bright lights from high above. Everything from personal shuttles to a hulking luxury cruiser, all polished and maintained with obvious dedication. For a moment peter was so stunned by this collection of beauties that he forgot all about about the dire situation he was in. Nebula's sharp voice cut through his slack-jawed stupor.

"Keep up or I will leave you here to Korath's mercies!" Peter found he believed her wholeheartedly and hurried to catch up.

They jogged down the main-way past a number of ships that would have left Rocket drooling before the familiar shape of his beloved Milano came into view. Peter couldn't help the low whistle which only earned him a quick elbow to the gut and pointed look from the assassin, Pressing a finger to her lips before approaching some sort of control console. Whoever was in charge of this bay had taken very good care of his baby. The dents and scrapes from Nebula's brief but brutal bout at the wheel were gone without a trace. They must have replaced entire panels, yet he couldn't find any obvious spots where they would have been welded on. Someone must have stripped and repainted it as well, as it practically glimmered like a showroom model.

Several large electrical cords snaked across the hangar floor and connected to an open panel on the underside of his ship. While Nebula busied herself typing commands into the screen before her, Peter worked to disconnect the cables from the ship. Drax took a position guarding their backs, Korath's damaged weapon still held in his arms. It was almost like having his team back.

A triumphant shout from behind him signalled Nebula's victory over the security system as the hangar's lights briefly dimmed and the low rumble of a bay door opening washed over them. The Milano lit up as well, the entrance ramp dropping down for them to board. Nebula barely waited for the ramp to settle on the ground before darting on, Peter and Drax hot on her heels as she vaulted up the ladder and started up the engines.

"Uh uh!" Peter shouted, scrambling to shove her out of the pilot's chair with his body and yanking the control's away. "I'm driving this time! You're the reason we wound up stranded on this trash planet!"

The assassin hit the cabin floor with an angry grunt. Her rebuttal probably would have been both swift and brutal if a loud explosion had not sent the Milano rocking and shuddering just then.

"They have located us." Drax informed them helpfully, pointing out the window over the smoking remains of the neighboring shuttle at a swarm of Kree fighters streaming into the still opening doors.

"Son of a Karlaxian whore." She hissed out instead, turning her ire back to their common enemy.

Peter guided the Milano off the floor with one hand while activating the shields and weapons system with his other.

"Let's give these party crashers something to think about." The weapons systems chirruped and lit up and Nebula and Drax slipped into the remaining two seats, strapping themselves in.

"Surely you do not consider what we were doing before they appeared a party?" Drax asked from behind him with a note of worry in his tone. Peter was too busy grinning to correct him. It had been less than a week since his disturbing awakening on the wrong Milano, but he had missed his team terribly. Even while under heavy fire, Drax's inability to understand his metaphor or to let it pass unchallenged was like a balm for his rattled soul.

Escaping the Grandmaster's showroom was a bit of a challenge, and more than a few beautiful ships paid the ultimate price as the M-ship ducked and weaved through them for cover.

They skirted their way around one last cruiser and then it was just a sprint across an open gap and through the hangar door. Peter punched the gas and Nebula deftly shot down any enemy ships who dared venture too close. Drax's shots were slightly less refined, but they made up for it with ruthlessness and vigor, reigning down an unpredictable barrage that often caught the ships trying to dodge the more carefully aimed blasts.

As they shot out into the open sky with one final roll Peter was feeling pretty good. That feeling was quickly swallowed back down when waiting just outside for them was the heavily weaponized ship he'd seen through the apartment window. The cannon on it's hull blinking a bright pink was their only warning before a hard bank to the left was the only thing that kept them from becoming just more rubble raining from the sky.

"That's a K-Class Kree Warbird." Nebula supplied from beside him. "Your undersized vessel doesn't have the weapons, or the shields, to take it on."

"Yeah, I got that feeling." Peter muttered back, urging his ship faster as they slipped between the taller buildings. Mercifully, the large cannon seemed to have a long charge time. The smaller Kree battleships pooled from the hangar after them, like a great thunderstorm rolling over the city.

In open space his M-ship could outrun the fighter crafts any day, but here in this unfamiliar city Peter found himself taking wrong turns and yanking desperately on his controls to avoid striking into tall structures, costing them precious seconds. When the buildings grew shorter and the sky scrapers finally thinned out it was too late, the dark cloud was upon them. Nebula was a sharp shot, still stubbornly picking off the nearest crafts with her mouth set in a grim line, but there was nothing more to do as they were swallowed up whole.

The winshield was blacked out by the wings of the swarm as they were fired at directly from all sides. The shields rippled and shuddered under the assault. The lights in the cockpit dimmed slightly as power was rerouted, and a frantic alarm blared their inevitable failure.

Biting his bottom lip hard enough to bruise Peter reached to type in an override and a series of commands.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Nebula screamed when the engines suddenly cut out, all power diverted to the shields as they tumbled downward, punching through the bottom of the cloud of tiny Kree ships like a rock through a soggy paper bag.

Free of their cage, the engines roared back to life, screaming as they righted themselves and fled for the desert. The black ships swarmed after them, but without the buildings to slow them down, the M-ship had the advantage now. From behind the storm loomed the large armored ship with the canon. The bright pink light flaring inside the barrel, pointed squarely at them, was probably a good indicator that it was ready to fire again.

"Whatever happened to taking us alive?" He grumbled as he tried to shake their aim.

"That's a pulse ray." Nebula responded. "It won't completely destroy your ship, but it will fry the circuts and leave us as easy prey." Well, that was just perfect.

"Hang on tight." He warned before rolling out of the line of fire as a large beam swept across the sky after them. A sharp banging noise and a series of low warning beeps indicated that the shot hadn't completely missed. But whatever they hit didn't seem to affect any of the critical life support systems or the engines so Peter decided to worry about it later and focus on steering through the hail of fire for now and counting the number of rifts they passed, searching for the one that would let them out closest to Knowhere.

The waterfalls of debris afforded them some measure of cover as they swerved through the sky of trash. The shields flickered and shimmered like a tattered spider's web. The lighter fire of the fighterships would occasionally slip through the holes and ping directly against the Milano. So much for his brand new paint job.

"Why do your family reunions always have to destroy my ship?" He grumbled under his breath. Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw Nebula shoot him a questioning look. Oops. Too loud. Had Thanos had her ears enhanced, too? It was probably a bad time to ask. To be fair, there was probably not a good time to ask that. Instead he closed his mouth and set his eyes pointedly ahead, hoping she'd forget whatever she thought she'd heard by the time they made it to some measure of safety.

It didn't come up again, the sound of straining engines and blasts bouncing off of the Milano and her fading shields were counterpointed by Drax's occasional rumbling laughter, filling the silence until the rift they were looking for came into view. It was significantly smaller than most of the other ones that they had passed, and set very high, half-hidden in some whispy clouds.

A glance at the open screens confirmed that his shields were running on fumes, but the ship its self was still in good enough shape that it could probably survive the trip through the portal even if they failed. It was going to be a bumpy ride, though.

Slipping behind one last stream of trash for cover, he banked his ship upwards, aiming straight for the swirling black and gold hole in the sky.

Hope fluttered in his chest like a nervous bird as they closed the distance. That last slip had done the trick and the remaining Kree fighters were struggling to land any sort of hit while they spilled around the torrent like a river breaking over a rock.

With a final relieved laugh the Milano was swallowed up. The pattering of enemy fire was washed away by the rattling of time and space reforming around them. The rattling grew louder and louder as reality seemed to scream in pain, filling his ears until he thought they might burst and then all at once they were flung out into empty space on the other side. The silence out here was so absolute that if it wasn't for the soft K-thunk K-thunk of his ship's engines as they cooled, he might believe he had gone deaf in the transit.

A deep gusty sigh he hadn't even realized he had been holding in rushed out of him and Peter deflated against the controls. The notoriously fragile Kree ships would not be able to follow them through the rift without being torn apart. That Warbird, however, might make it if they could manage to squeeze it's bulk through the opening. Not wanting to stick around long enough to find out he pulled up the commands for a "Jump" that would skip them closer to Knowhere and further from this wormhole to Sakaar. The systems hummed as they gathered energy and prepared to enter a nearby access point. Just as the stars around them started to flicker and shiver it sputtered out, a little [System Error] icon blipped innocently over the command prompt.

"What!?" Peter cried, entering the comand again only resulted in the error icon blinking at him insistently. "Noooooooooo." He groaned, slumping against the controls again. Was one god-damned thing not going horribly wrong really so much to ask?

"The ship was not scheduled to be released until tomorrow. It appears they hadn't bothered refueling it yet." As Nebula spoke she pointed at the fuel gauge that was an unpleasant yellow color. In all the chaos, Peter had completely missed this obvious detail. He ignored the heat rising on his cheeks, convincing himself it was just the stress of this all throwing off his groove. It was a small detail, that anyone could have missed.

With a resigned sigh he pulled up a map of their current location and settled for guiding the Milano around towards the nearest planet that they could stop and refuel on.

The closest outpost turned out to be a small lavender and white toned orb known as the planet Liljedahl. Peter had never been here before as far as he could remember, though sometimes it was hard to tell when a number of the stops the ravagers made with him as a child hadn't involved much more for him than staring at his feet and the slimey walls of the darkest backalleys, many of which started to look the same after a while.

Liljedahl was busy for such a small planet in such a far-removed system. They even had a full port. It was dated, true, and carried only the bare minimums for space travel with none of the amenities one would find on a place like Xandar, but it was a fully functioning port where they could refuel none-the-less.

It came as no real surprise that the price of fuel out here was outrageous, but Peter still found himself physicaly wincing as he paid over the large sum of units to have his ship filled up.

"Alright." He sighed, looking at the pitiful remnants of his account as they exited the waystation. "The Milano only has one bed, and I don't know about you guys, but I do not fancy sharing it. I think there's a couple spare inflatable mattresses stored away somewhere, but what do you say we shop around for some extra blankets and stuff while we're here? And toothbrushes. I only have the one. And I'd rather share the bed."

"I do not wish to share the bed or the toothbrush." Drax informed him with a look of disgust.

"We're agreed, then. My funds are looking a little low, though. I don't suppose you guys have anything on hand?" He looked up hopefully, but was only met with blank stares.

"I was given what I needed to accomplish my tasks by my father." Nebula informed him flatly.

"I did not need money on Sakaar." Drax shugged.

"Great." Peter's shoulders slumped as he mentally bid farewell to the rest of his units.

Drax was grinning like he agreed that being provided for in exchange for being champion was great, while Nebula had her arms crossed and was staring into the passing crowd with feigned interest. Before, he would have assumed that she was disgusted by their conversation and looking for a new, less broke, teammate. Now he was pretty sure she was actually just embarassed after having off-handedly admitted her own uselessness in this situation, so he let it go and instead wandered down the line of shops in search of a store that carried what they needed.

Much like the fuel, the blankets that they found were overpriced and not screaming of extravagance, but also like the fuel, they were the only options and they would do the job. At the very least they came in a small variety of colors and were pleasant enough to the touch, not scratchy or threatening to come undone at the seams. Drax selected a bright red one that made Peter's eyes water if he stared for too long, while Nebula snatched up a basic black one from the top of the pile. The same shop also had a section with toothbrushes and Peter picked out a green and a blue one. It would be easier to remember whose was whose that way. Something he wished the Guardians had thought of when they first started sharing the rebuilt Milano. A shudder ran through him at the unpleasant memory.

On their way back a bright neon light caught Peter's eye. The swirling pink and yellow symbols were easy to recognize as a bar chain that he had frequented on many ports throughout the years. It was suprising to find one at such a small outpost, but it was a good suprise -something of a rarity in his life.

His teammates noticed his distraction and stopped to stare back at him impatiently, the oversized paper bag in Drax's arms crinkled as he turned to frown at their lagging teammate.

"What are you doing?" Nebula asked, "We have what we came for. Let's get back to the ship so we can leave this planet."

"Hang up a sec. I'm sure we can spare a few minutes for a game or two. I'm almost out of units here, so unless you guys are going to pick up some part-time jobs this is our best meal ticket."

"Do what you will." Nebula rolled her eyes and took the paper bag that Peter had been holding into her own arms. "I am returning to the ship and planning our next course of action."

"What about you, Drax?" Peter asked, wiggling his eyebrows at the man as the assassin strode away. "I find people don't try to jip my winnings as much when I have such scary looking backup."

"No." Drax's eyes narrowed as he stared after the retreating form. "I will return to the ship as well and keep an eye on our companion to ensure she does nothing to flee or endanger the innocents."

Peter just heaved a sigh as he was left alone on the grimy sidewalk. He really hoped they didn't kill each other by the time he got back.

Gambling was less of a vice, and more of a basic survival skill in Peter's childhood among the stars. It was a common pastime among the ravagers - one of the very few which did not necessarily endanger his life - and he had picked the skills up with an eagerness that made Yondu slap him on the back with a proud laugh, and probably would have made his mother weep. By the time he left the tavern he had a grin on his face and more than one jacket pocket stuffed with his winnings. This day was turning around after all.

A wavering tune whistled from his lips as he sauntered down the stretch of roads leading back to the dock. Among his winnings had been a few drinks and he was feeling their effects now. Not drunk, but there was a pleasant buzzing in his body and a heat on his cheeks.

It might have been that pleasant buzz that dulled his senses enough for a couple of disgruntled thugs to get the slip on him. Or maybe it was just the universe's uncanny ability to always kick him in the nuts whenever he erred on the side of happy. Whatever the reason, he did not realize the danger he was in until a large leathery hand grabbed him and jerked him into a side alley. His scream of suprise was cut off by a smaller fist striking him in the face so hard he didn't even recall hitting the ground. A heavy boot landed on his chest, pinning him down and crushing the breath from his lungs. Through his swirling vision he recognized the pair of attackers as a couple of his unlucky benefactors of the night.

"Hey, hey. Easy now boys. I don't want any trouble here." He raised his arms in a placating gesture, and offered his best smile.

"You should have thought of that before you dragged your cheating ass into our bar." The smaller, but not exactly small, yellower alien hissed. The boot on his chest pressed a bit harder.

"Cheating!? I won fair and squ-."

The boot on his chest pressed harder, the heel grinding painfully against his sternum.

"Just shut up and take what's comin' to you." Growled out the owner of the boot.

"Okay, well. I tried the non-violent way." He shrugged. It probably would have been more impressive if he wasn't wheezing it out through constricted lungs. Without waiting for a reply he reached for the blasters at his sides. The boot on his chest suddenly retreated, smashing down on the blaster in his left hand instead with a horrifying crunch. White pain exploded behind his eyes and a strangled scream escaped his throat. Something was broken. Something was definitely broken.

Another boot pressed down on his right arm as the larger red and green splattered thug ripped the blaster from his good hand, retrieving the other one as well and inspecting them with an approving grin.

"Well aren't these a nice set of toys?" He hummed, turning a curious look at the double triggers. "I wonder how they work?"

Peter's blood ran cold as wide orange eyes landed on him with malicious intent. He could hear the smaller alien giggling from his other side, but couldn't rip his own eyes away. With comical slowness the double barrels of his quad blasters were turned until he was staring up into their black depths. His favorite and most faithful weapon stared back, cold and unblinking.

"N-Now be careful with those. they're dangerous. I'd be happy to show you how they work if you just hand one over." He ground out as he scooted backwards on his hand and elbow.

"I think I'll have more fun finding out the hard way." The speckled alien replied, his grin widening to split his face and reveal ugly yellowed teeth, and he squeezed the trigger.

When Peter was seven years old he had spent a summer vacation visiting his grandfather's farm. Like many farms, this one had a barn, and like many barns, this one had a cat who kept the mice and other vermin in check in exchange for shelter and feed in the colder months. Pest control on his grandfather's farm was run by a fuzzy black and white tom cat named Joe who always looked like someone had forgotten him in the drier for too long.

One of his clearest memories from that trip, alongside the most amazing blueberry pie he had ever had, and his first time riding in the bed of a truck, was of Joe catching a small brown mouse from the loose hay in his barn. He had played with that tiny terrified creature for what felt like an eternity, tossing it in the air and batting it about. When the mouse would go limp and give up Joe would just sit back and watch it, breathing so fast it was practically vibrating, and wait until it slowly got up, thinking it had somehow survived the worst and tried to crawl away towards the hay bales. This was when Joe would pounce again, and the game would repeat until he tired of the game and finally ate his exhausted prey.

In his nearly three decades of life since leaving Earth, Peter would often find himself thinking back to that memory and imagining himself as the mouse, and the universe a fuzzy black cat crouched over him, politely waiting for him to right himself and pull his life back together just enough before pouncing again; Never truly letting him go, but never quite killing him either. Like a favorite, hard-won toy, he always somehow survived, a touch of luck at the last moment that could almost be called mercy, but was really just a cruel trick. The wind up before the next blow. Eventually, just like Joe, the universe would tire of this game.

All of these thoughts -shattered and in no particular order- flashed through his brain as, true to form, the alien had accidentally selected the 'stun' option on his blasters. Not killing him. But not saving him, either, as he thrashed about on the dirty ground, jaw locked shut and limbs trembling and contorting. The world flashed white and the tangy taste of copper flooded his senses.

When his attacker finally released the trigger Peter was left gasping like a fish, trying with varying success to pull enough oxygen into his burning lungs, and scrabbling at the ground with his arms as though afraid he would lose it to the violent spinning of the walls around them. The ringing in his ears and colorful flecks in his eyes faded slowly as the world came oozing at its own pace back into focus. Both the yellow and the red and green blurs were doubled over laughing.

As he searched thoughtlessly for a handhold on the greasy cement he felt something hard and cold pressed into his ankle. It took his sluggish mind several beats to realize that this was Nebula's knife, still tucked into his boot from their mad dash from Sakaar. He had been so busy with the ship and supplies he had forgotten to return it. He could practically weep for joy at his distracted mistake as he willed his limbs into some semblance of a working order and fumbled for the blade with his good hand. The duo didn't seem to notice right away, still caught up in their laughter and probably assuming he was still just flopping about mindlessly.

With one more deep breath to steady his mind and body as best he could, Peter rolled up and threw himself straight at the larger of the two. He'd been aiming for the heart, or where the heart usually was, he wasn't entirely sure what species this guy was, but misjudged and fumbled to the side. The knife was sharp, though, and slid into the alien man's side with a sickening ease. Hot orange blood dribbled over his hand. The alien let out a horrifying screech and tried to bludgeon him off with the blasters, but his moves were frantic and sloppy and through the glancing blows Peter managed to wrestle them away.

"What the f-" The other alien had darted in to help, but froze when Peter pointed the barrels squarely at his chest.

"These things do more than just stun." He ground out through clenched teeth, his left hand throbbing in complaint at the continued abuse. "Want me to show you how to use them properly?" The smaller alien's eyes rolled white in terror before he spun and fled the alley. The larger one shouldered Peter aside as he busrst past him and followed after his friend, still cluching desperately at the knife and leaving flecks of orange blood splattered across the pavement as he ran. Damnit, he needed that knife back. Nebula was probably going to finish what they started when she found out he lost it to a couple of bar thugs.

As their pounding footsteps faded away, Peter slumped against the closest wall. He tucked away his left blaster as best he could before cradling his damaged hand up for inspection. His ring finger was almost definitely broken. It was already swelling up and turning an ugly deep red that was bordering on purple. He couldn't really move it, although he didn't dare try to hard, and it had a horrible ringing pain that set his teeth on edge. His middle finger and pinky were probably not broken, he hoped. They were bruised and sore, but not nearly as swollen and still listened to his commands with only minor complaints.

Feeling much like the battered and raggedy mouse that he all to often sympathyzed with, he stumbled his way back towards his ship, still cradling his left arm and holding his blaster ready in his right in case he had any more surprise encounters.

The trip back to his ship was uneventful, a few strange stares and one kindhearted 'do you need help sir?' from a shop owner who he waved off with a thankful grin that probably came off as more of an awkward grimace.

As he dragged his boots up the loading ramp of his ship he finally let himself relax. Inside, he could hear the soft tell-tale rumble of Drax's snore. The large man was fast asleep on one of the inflatable mattresses in the corner of the main bay, one arm thrown over his eyes to block out the light. So much for keeping an eye on the deadly assassin. A small snort made its way out of him as he tried his best to tiptoe his way to his own room. About half way there a voice startled him from behind.

"What happened?" It was an innocent enough question, but Peter found his heart leaping into his throat as he nearly jumped out of his skin and tried to recover as quietly as possible. He could have screamed at her if he wasn't trying to be considerate of the person sleeping in the room. How? How did she do that?

"I'm fine." He hissed out, hugging his hand just a bit tighter, hiding it under the side of his coat. "Just had a bit of a run-in with some sore losers."

Nebula did not look the slightest bit convinced and reached forward to pry his left arm from his side. After a token protest he relented and gave it to her. The sooner he let her look at it and see it was just a broken finger the sooner he could slink off to his room to metaphorically lick his wounds. She turned his hand over a couple of times before releasing it with a small huff. Her brows were drawn together and her lips pressed into a frown.

"Where is your medical kit?"

"What?"

"Your finger is broken. You will need assistance splinting it." She spoke as if she were explaining things to a difficult child. "Where is your medical kit?"

"In the corner." He wasn't sure how to handle this quiet, non-threatening, almost concerned version of Nebula, so he just pointed at the kit up on a shelf in the corner across from Drax's makeshift bed.

The blue assassin nodded and retrieved it silently. Instead of returning, she carried it to his bedroom door, pausing to catch his eye and toss her head in a silent command before entering. Peter crept in after her, settling carefully on the edge of his bed where she was busy pulling the items she'd need from the kit and arranging them on his mattress.

Once satisfied with the items spread out between them she held out her own hand towards Peter, silently asking for his broken hand again. Cautiously he gave it to her and she pulled a small handheld scanner up to check for where the bone had fractured.

"Really, it's fine." He muttered, not sure what to do, but he never handled silence well. "I could do this myself, it's not like I've never used the medical kit before..."

"I can tell. It's a mess." She replied calmly, setting down the scanner and picking up a small brace that she carefully lined against his swollen digit, placing a pad of gauze over the other side. "This is easier." Peter winced as she picked up a roll of soft gauze next and began wrapping, starting at his finger, wrapping his sore pinky onto it for stability, and working her way down his palm and wrist. By the time she started on a second layer, Peter could hardly stop his nervous fidgeting.

As he cast his eyes around the room he noticed with a flood of relief his walkman sitting on the endtable where he had left it for safekeeping before departing the ship. Trying not to jostle the hand in Nebula's grip, he reached out his other arm to drag it closer.

"Hold still." She admonished, but there was no characteristic fire behind it.

"Easier said than done." He grumbled, trying to control his twiching to just the bouncing of his knee as he slipped his headphones over his head one-handed and started skipping aimlessly through his Awesome Mix Volume 1.

By the time he settled into "Ooh Child" by The Five Stairsteps, his toe tapping along to the beat and his lips working silently over the familiar words, his hand was released. Peter turned the new makeshift cast over appreciatively. The outer layer was a ravager red, one of only two remaining color choices from the kit and he was thankful she had not chosen the neon pink. It made sneaking around a lot harder. The wrap job was fairly impressive. It almost looked professional. He let out a low hum.

"This is a pretty good job for, uh..." He trailed off, suddenly not sure if he should finish that sentence.

"-For someone whose bones heal themselves in a matter of seconds?" She finished for him. A guarded tone was creeping back into her voice, but hadn't made it to her face yet. "They didn't always."

"Oh, uhm, I'm sorry." He rubbed at the back of his neck awkwardly with his good hand. They had almost been getting along and of course he had to open his big mouth as usual.

"Don't be." She said dismissively, standing and sweeping the remaining tools back into the kit. Back to her usual all-business attitude like none of this had ever happened. "It made me stronger."

"I'm still sorry." He whispered.

It was Nebula's turn to have no answer as she finished packing away the kit and left without another word, closing the door behind her. Drax's snoring drifted through walls, and the last lines of his song played on from his headphones as he continued staring silently at the cast on his left arm.

"...Ooh-oo child

Things are gonna get easier

Ooh-oo child

Things'll get brighter

Right now, right now

(You just wait and see how things are gonna be)"

--

A voice crackled through the radio, the interference on this planet distorting the signal.

"Did you capture them?"

The captain of the Warbird watched silently as the M-ship vanished into the portal in a burst of light, the leather of the control grips creaking under their crushing grip. The useless Kree fighters banked and swirled around the portal, unable to enter so they circled it aimlessly, and would likely continue to do so until given the orders to return to their main ship. Things had not gone as planned at all.

It would be easy to blame the failure on the sluggish battleship and its poorly calibrated disabling beam -non-lethal combat was certainly not their strong suit-, but blaming one's failures on machinery was a pathetic excuse at best. And an actionable offence at worst. Instead they sent out the signal to regroup, leaned back in their seat, and crossed their legs.

"No." Came the eventual reply. This StarLord must be a more formidable foe than they had prepared for. "We will regroup and discuss a new plan of action."

"Yes. Gamora." Korath hissed out.

The static cut off sharply, but it was of no concern. The order had been recieved. Narrowed eyes turned back to the portal swirling sedately in the clouds above.

"What are you up to sister?"

End

[supercoolgamesstuff-blog]

Google Stadia Reviewed – Against The Stream

New Post has been published on https://www.coolgamingzone.com/google-stadia-reviewed-against-the-stream/

Google Stadia Reviewed – Against The Stream

Introduction

By the mid-2000s, Blu-ray felt like the future of media. Blu-ray video looked incredible and offered cleaner picture and sound quality than previous media formats. “Surely,” we thought, “the technology that comes after Blu-ray will look even more impressive!” But then something strange happened; as streaming services like Netflix took off, more and more of us ditched physical media in favor of the cloud. Streaming didn’t offer the same level of fidelity as Blu-ray – or sometimes even DVD – but it was good enough. More importantly, it was convenient. The desire to watch anything anywhere outpaced our desire for image quality.

Now it’s 2019, streaming services have come a long way, and tech goliath Google thinks it has figured out how to Netflix the gaming industry. The tech is surprisingly functional, but its ability to upturn the industry will depend largely on its ability to implement its grand blueprint. Sadly, Stadia’s current design is missing several important pillars.

Gaming on Stadia

Gaming on Stadia

Stadia’s concept still sounds a bit like science fiction: Earlier this year, Google sold a vision of players using wi-fi-enable controllers to communicate with a hive of supercomputers in the cloud, which would allow users to stream the most advanced gaming software to decade-old laptops and mobile phones. Google’s system worked well at trade shows, but those were highly controlled environments. How does the service work now that we’ve been able to test it in the wild? Surprisingly well … if you have a stable internet connection.

On the whole, Stadia performs better than I expected. The high-speed internet at the Game Informer offices regularly gets download/upload speeds of 280 Mbps, so I rarely noticed even a hiccup while playing games at work. Mortal Kombat 11 on a stable Stadia connection booted up in seconds and feels about as responsive as its console counterparts. I had no problem dialing in combos and Fatalities even though my inputs had to travel through miles of infrastructure to bounce off Google servers.

Unfortunately, the experience quickly degrades as your internet speeds dial down. At a nearby coffee shop, where I recorded download speeds of 38 Mbps, I noticed a few frame skips every couple minutes. At home, where my speeds regularly drop to 20 Mbps, I experienced some visual artifacting and a regular picture stutter. With these slower internet speeds, I didn’t feel competitive in Destiny 2’s PvP modes, but I was able to complete a strike without a problem. Everyone’s tolerance for this kind of experience will vary, but my frustration over the occasional hiccup was mitigated by the revelation that I could play Destiny 2 in public on my phone (see the controller sidebar for more).

Stadia’s service only dropped out completely on me once due to a poor signal, but an instance of my game was saved and I had five minutes to hop back online and pick up where I’d left off. I wish Google would extend that grace period and allow users to create their own save states (a feature called State Share, which is still in the works), but I never lost any progress in a game, and my experience was stable enough across the board that I didn’t live in fear of being unable to access my games.

Google’s service isn’t a one-size-fits-all streaming solution, and you should carefully measure your internet speeds before committing to the platform. Many will find Stadia’s occasional stutters unbearable, while others will feel that it’s good enough. Personally, I can’t imagine trading any of my game consoles for a Stadia stream anytime soon.

  What about that controller?

An online-only streaming service seems like a bold new direction for the gaming industry, but Google isn’t interested in reinventing the controller. The Stadia controller smartly hews close to modern controller design. The pad itself has a nice weight and feels a lot like the PS4 controller thanks to its ergonomic shell and symmetrical analog sticks. The buttons produce a satisfying click and feel sturdy, and I got about seven hours of use from a single charge. Of course, Google has its equivalent of the start, options, and home buttons. However, Google added a screen capture and virtual assistant button to the mix, and this creates a jumble of buttons near the center of the controller. I constantly hit the screen-capture button when I meant to pause a game, which was frustrating.

At launch, the controller also doesn’t work wirelessly with any device other than the Chromecast. This means that in order to play on a laptop or phone you have to connect your device to a controller using a USB C cord, which I found cumbersome. In fact, I was actually a little embarrassed to pull out my tangle of gadgets to play games at Starbucks.

I also wasn’t able to connect the Stadia controller to wi-fi that featured a web browser login, meaning you probably won’t be able to use Google’s controllers wirelessly in locations like hotels that -require a secondary login screen. The Stadia controller might be a nice piece of physical hardware, but these tech issues need to get ironed out as soon as possible.

Under Construction

Under Construction  

Google’s streaming tech might be ready for prime time, but its service certainly isn’t. Many of the more exciting features either aren’t available for launch or won’t roll out until 2020. For starters, Google’s Pixel smartphones are the only phones that Stadia users will be able to use for streaming at launch. Achievements also won’t be viewable at this time, but Google says that Stadia is recording your progress, so once the feature is enabled, users will receive credit for everything they’ve done since then.

The Google Assistant is another exciting feature that is being kicked down the road. During the Stadia reveal event, Google said that with the tap of a button users could speak into their Stadia controller and pull up YouTube walkthroughs or other helpful advice for any game they played. This feature is absent at launch. Google says that the Google Assistant will be available soon, but even then, the Assistant will only be available from the Stadia home screen and only allow users to launch games or turn on their TV.

Stadia’s incomplete feature list is so long it’s a little embarrassing. What about Stream Connect, which is Google’s way of supporting multiplayer by allowing Stadia users to create local couch co-op experiences via split-screen? Coming later this year. What about Family Sharing, which lets you share games with other users in your family? Sometime soon. What about Crowd Play, which lets streamers play games with their viewers? Hopefully, sometime next year. What about streaming over cellular networks? I’ll let you take a guess. If Stadia had all these features, it might feel like the next big leap in gaming, but as it is, the platform is just a basic streaming platform that offers less than a home console. 

In the end, Stadia’s biggest problem is likely its lack of software. Stadia doesn’t have many dedicated experiences that will drive longtime gamers to the platform. The system’s launch lineup features some great games, such as Assassin’s Creed Odyssey, Rise of the Tomb Raider, and Red Dead Redemption 2, but those are all more than a year old and there isn’t a single triple-A exclusive on the horizon. This is a big problem for Google. If the company hopes to attract more people to the service, it needs to provide a reason to be on Stadia. In other words: It needs more games.

A look at Google’s data center that allows Stadia to run

Launch Lineup

Google Stadia Launch Lineup:

Assassin’s Creed Odyssey  

Attack on Titan: Final Battle 2

Destiny 2: The Collection (available in Stadia Pro)

Farming Simulator 2019

Final Fantasy XV

Football Manager 2020

Grid 2019

Gylt

Just Dance 2020

Kine

Metro Exodus  

Mortal Kombat 11

NBA 2K20

Rage 2

Rise of the Tomb Raider

Red Dead Redemption 2

Samurai Shodown (available in Stadia Pro)

Shadow of the Tomb Raider

Thumper

Tomb Raider 2013

Trials Rising

Wolfenstein: Youngblood

Reportedly Releasing Before The End Of 2019:

Borderlands 3

Darksiders Genesis

Dragon Ball Xenoverse 2

Ghost Recon: Breakpoint

The Bottom Line

The Bottom Line: 6 out of 10

Stadia seems tailored for a different crowd – the kind of game-curious individual who only pays attention to the occasional blockbuster release and isn’t willing to throw down a few hundred dollars on a dedicated piece of gaming hardware. Next year, when Google launches the free version of the Stadia service, the platform might find that audience. On the other hand, Stadia’s service isn’t currently valuable enough to justify the $129.99 early adopters price tag. Anyone devoted enough to follow industry trends probably cares enough about this hobby to spend the extra money on a console that provides a lag-free experience.

Still, I want something like Stadia to succeed. Purchasing a game and immediately booting it up without concern for downloads or updates is liberating, and when you have a stable internet connection, streaming games off the cloud feels like magic. Oddly enough, Stadia filled me with excitement for a game-streaming future, but it left me with less confidence that Stadia would be the platform to usher us forward.

Editorial Note: This review was conducted in a pre-release environment. We may revisit this review as we play more games after launch and as Google releases console updates.

Understanding Pricing

On day one, consumers can purchase the Stadia Premiere Edition for $129, which includes three free months of Stadia Pro, a Google Chromecast Ultra, and a Stadia Controller. Stadia Pro is Google’s subscription service, which costs $9.99 a month and gives players access to the highest quality streams (4K/60 fps/HDR/5.1 sound) as well as exclusive discounts on game purchases (TBA). Early next year, everyone will be able to stream games through Stadia at no cost, however, the streaming quality will be throttled to 1080p/60fps with stereo sound. No matter how you approach the service, games still need to be purchased à la carte.

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