#then volume three hits them like a truck and they all collectively go

[thepalestrose]

Been watching RWBY with a friend and we finally caught up to V9 and I had to mute myself because I just cried straight through the last four chapters

[looneysguidetolife]

apartment stuff from howtogrowthefuckup

not all of it, but stuff i find particularly useful/want to remember. RIP this blog. the gimmick wears off after a while but it was genuinely useful information.

BUDGETING

suggested monthly budget for groceries for a two-person household is $553. estimated weekly budget is around $100. 

find a pad of paper and a pen and keep it with you for the next 24 hours. Write down every single fucking thing you use or even touch in your house. Tomorrow I want you to look at that list and figure out the cost of everything.

keep track of how much you spend on gas monthly.

add in your estimated utilities. You can fucking google that on your own, because it’s going to be different for wherever you want to live. Absolutely do this if you plan on moving to a different town or state.

divide your total monthly income by three. Hey, look at that, it’s my good friend Math again. Funny how he keeps showing up. Make sure the number of your expenses is less than the other 2/3rds, if it is, you can continue.

FINDING APARTMENTS

apartments.com

Focus on your top 10. Then your top 5. Then your top 3. Don’t go any farther than that (and don’t get rid of the research for the other 7 just yet). Create crazy complicated rating systems. Make an excel sheet or start putting stuff on your wall and connecting them with strings. Go full-on serial killer. Dedicate yourself.

You should also make note of how big the room is so you know if you can even fit what little you own. The same goes for the hallways or stairs or whatever exists outside the apartment on the way from your car. Could you get your mattress through all that shit?

PACKING

Figure out what you want to donate and what you want to put in the trash before you start packing.

Do not go grocery shopping right before moving... Just wait til you’re in the new place to make that trip.

Change your address. Like a week before you move. While you’re doing this, make a list of everywhere you’ve entered your address and need to change. Keep that list. Your future self will thank you someday.

Start in one room and pack all that before moving to a different part of the house. This is a good way to keep all your stuff together and it’s also a good way to find out that you own five decks of cards or one too many furbys.

Put everything into piles: keep, donate, and ditch.

Label the boxes with what room they belong to so you know exactly where it needs to go. Some people like to also mark this with a color coded sticker. 

Also label what’s in the boxes. For example: Kitchen - silverware; cooking utensils; hot pads; magnet collection. You don’t need to label every item individually, but have some idea of what’s in there. Label it on more than one side. Don’t label it on the top, because you’ll just end up stacking boxes on top of each other.

Distribute the weight of your stuff. Mix heavy books with stuffed animals.

Alternately, pack by weight. Heavy stuff goes in small boxes, light stuff goes in big boxes. Basically what I’m saying is don’t pack a massive box with too much weight that it’s too heavy to carry or will break the box.

Use all of your suitcases and bags for packing!

For toiletries - take off the top, place plastic wrap over the opening, replace the top. This way you don’t end up with lotion all over your towels or something.

Know what you’ll need immediately and make sure those boxes are the last thing on the truck, first thing unloaded at the new place. Maybe keep those things in a clear container so you can see exactly what’s in there. Hint: three of the things you’ll need immediately are your toolbox, cleaning supplies, and toilet paper.

note to self: get toolbox and first aid kit.

Take pictures of the new apartment. Before anything goes in it. This way if there are any scratches on the wall or stains on the carpet, the new landlord can’t say it happened during the move.

ASKING QUESTIONS

Apartments.com and My First Apartment both have lists of questions to ask.

questions directly from the blog:

Is the apartment available and is it still listed at the same price or are they trying to swindle you/are they completely incompetent at updating their listings?

Will it be ready when you need it? It’s gonna totally suck if you find the right place and find out it’s not available when you’re ready to move

Are there appliances? Are they included? Do they even work? 

How old is the apartment? This is important to ask because it will tell you how much trouble you’re going to have. Like, if it’s Civil War era, you might have issues with foundation cracks or old wiring or ghosts of soldiers waking you up in the middle of the night.

Have there been any issues with insects, rodents, mold, or mildew? You have to ask this. No good self-respecting property manager would tell you this of their own free will.

What kind of security is there? Did you have to go through a gate when you came in? Do you need a key to get into your building before you get into your door? Or does your door face out cheap motel style? Are there electronic pass codes? Is there any kind of security force on site?

If you ever find someone willing to hang out with you, is there a special place they need to park? Do you need to let the office know if they plan on staying the night?

Where do you park? Is parking included? Is in indoor or outdoor?

Do you need a city sticker to park on the street? [Note: I asked this when I moved to Missouri and everyone thought I was batshit crazy. This is normal in places like Chicago, not so normal elsewhere. See if you can determine that before you ask a crazy question.]

Can you paint the walls? Can you put holes in the walls? Can you do whatever it is you do to walls, so long as they look the same when you move out?

What exactly is the maintenance policy, beyond walls? What is covered, what’s not? And who do you contact when there’s an issue? Is there a maintenance person on staff, or do they call out to someone in the area? Do they have a 24-hour emergency maintenance line

Is there heat and air conditioning? What kind? If it’s a window unit, will it be included in the apartment? Are the costs of heating and cooling included

Do you have control over the temperature or is it a building thing?Are any utilities included?

Who are the cable and internet providers in the area? What are their rates? Does the apartment complex have an exclusive contract with one of the companies?

What kind of people live here? Do they have children? Are they all ancient? Do they have, as I suspect my last neighbors did, a bowling alley in their apartment?

Just how much are you going to hear from your neighbors? On a scale of Ernest Hemingway to Les Mis, how thick are the walls?

When is rent due and how do they want it? Are checks required? Can you pay with a credit card? Do they want it all in cash? Also, how is rent submitted? Can you pay electronically or do you drop it in a mailbox?

Do you need renter’s insurance? About how much does it cost? Are there any weird things that need to be included that might not be everywhere? Like, are earthquakes an issue?

What is the process for applying to the apartment, should you choose to rent it? Are there credit checks?

What’s the pet policy? Is there pet rent?

Are there quiet hours or other weird rules about volume or people or places or things?

Are there public areas like pools or parks or gyms? What are the rules regarding those?

If you have a roommate, will both of your names be on the lease, or will one person be designated as the responsible party (you better pray it isn’t you)?

What about trash? Is there pick up or dumpsters? Recycling?

Is there a storage unit included? Where is it? What kind of security does it have?

What happens with deliveries? Do they all go through the front office or are they left on your doorstep? Are you able to pick stuff up at any time? Do you need certain ID for it?

Is there a dishwasher? Is it louder than the bowling alley next door?

If you’re in an area that gets snow, do they plow or shovel? Will they totally bury your car if you don’t move it when the plow comes by?Is there public transportation anywhere?

not questions, but things to pay attention to:

Where are the outlets? Take note of prongs.

Are there permanent light sources or do you need to go to Ikea?

How big are the rooms? What shape are they? Are you going to be able to fit all your shit in here? [Note: you should already have a floor plan online, but ask for a paper copy if they have one.]

Do the people in the office seem at all competent? Are they going to make your life a living hell?

Can you get your stuff up/down the stairs or through the doors when you move in?

Are the appliances/apartment gas or electric?

Bathtub or shower?

Can you open the oven and fridge and still walk through the room? Will opening any doors block off other areas or hit something else?

Can you get a cell signal in the apartment? Seriously.

EDIT: waybackmachine links:

1 • 2 • 3 • 4

[blueberry-sunghoon]

"#welovejay" | jay park

*in this story, you are also a member of enhypen. you and jay are the main characters (though the other members are there as well). minor swearing warning (one "hell", one "ass", one "shit"). the story is 4,357 words long. i really hope you like this story. if you do, leave a comment if you want😊*

The time was 8:45 PM. You and the other Enhypen members were at the dorm, sitting around in the living room. You were all exhausted after a particularly long day of practice.

“I’m starving but I’m too lazy to get up,” Ni-ki groaned.

“I’ll make us some ramen,” said Heeseung as he got off the couch and headed to the kitchen.

~~~

At 9:05, all of you were eating the ramen Heeseung made and you had broken off into conversations. Jake and Heeseung were talking to each other, Sunghoon and Sunoo were talking to each other, and you were talking to Jungwon and Ni-ki. In the middle of your conversation, you realized that Jay was the only one without anyone to talk to. Not only that, he wasn’t eating; he was just staring at his food and picking at it. 

You tapped on Jay’s shoulder. “Jay,” you said. No reaction. You tapped his shoulder again. “Jay?” 

“Huh?” he said, startled, and turned to look at you. “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“That’s alright,” you said. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just tired.”

“Are you going to eat?”

Jay sighed. “I’m not really hungry.”

You could sense that something was wrong with Jay, but he obviously didn’t want to talk about it and you didn’t want to pry any further. “Okay then. Let me know if there’s anything you want to talk about.”

After that, the mood was somber and quiet for a few minutes, but eventually you all returned to your conversations. You were still worried about Jay, but you pushed your worries to the back of your mind. 

When all of you (except Jay) finished eating, you decided you would clean up today since everyone was tired. As you started to collect everyone’s bowls, Jungwon stood up and said, “I can help with that.”

“No, that’s okay,” you said. “I can do it myself. You had a long day; you should rest.”

“But you’re tired too. You also had a long day,” Jungwon protested.

“Rest or I’ll take your elbows,” you said finally.

Jungwon chuckled to himself. “I guess if you put it that way. Are you sure you don't need any help?”

“Positive.” 

~~~

Some time later, at 10:30, you were still cleaning up and washing the dishes when everyone (again, except for Jay) walked up to you. “Are you sure there’s nothing we can help with?” said Jake. 

“100%. I’m completely fine,” you answered. 

“Okay. Well, in that case, we’re all going to bed.”

“Okay. Goodnight guys. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Everyone waved to you, said goodnight, and walked out. 

“Wait, Jungwon,” you whispered to him before he could go anywhere. He turned to face you. You motioned for him to come over and he did. “Have any of you tried talking to Jay? I think something is wrong and he isn’t telling us,” you said as you kept your voice at minimum volume.

Jungwon sighed. “Yeah, I thought so too. Sunoo and I tried talking to him but he wouldn’t even look at us. I think it’s best if we leave him alone for now.”

“I think so too,” you said defeatedly. 

The room went silent for a few moments. Eventually Jungwon broke the silence and said, “See you tomorrow?” 

“Yeah. Goodnight.” Jungwon walked out of the kitchen and you kept cleaning the dishes. Eventually you finished, but you looked over at Jay in the living room and sighed in frustration when you realized you had forgotten to take his dish. You walked into the living room and you found him sitting on the couch scrolling through his phone. You then went to the small table where his food was and quietly asked, “Can I put this away?”

He didn’t look up from his phone; he just gave a silent nod. 

So you took his dish back to the kitchen and put it in a food saver. Then you washed the bowl and went back to the living room to retrieve your phone. “I’m going to bed. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Once again, Jay didn’t acknowledge you, and you felt absolutely defeated. You were about to head to your room when you heard Jay say something.

“I can’t do anything without being made fun of.”

You paused for a moment to think about what he could have meant. Who was he talking about? You sat down next to him. “Was it something I said?” you asked softly.

Jay shook his head. “No, it wasn’t you.” Jay handed you his phone and said, “Look.” Confused, you took his phone and you saw the selfie he had posted on Twitter earlier that day. He was in the practice room and he was making a peace sign. “You see it?” he said.

“Yeah, what about it?”

“Look at the comments.”

You realized what was making him so upset when you scrolled through the comments. All the comments were making fun of his double-jointed fingers. “Oh my god,” you said in complete disbelief. “I’m so sorry, Jay.”

“Whatever,” Jay huffed. “It is what it is.” 

You were at a loss for words, so the room went silent for a few moments. “I mean, does anyone take me seriously at all?! Literally everything I do, they find something to laugh at. I really spent three years as a trainee just to be someone’s meme.” Hearing his voice laced with sadness and anger broke your heart. 

“Jay, you can’t focus on those comments; those aren’t real fans,” you tried to encourage him.

“I don't see anything else to focus on,” Jay said as he continued to scroll through the comments. “Do I even have real fans?”

“Jay, of course you do-”

He didn’t bother to let you finish your sentence. “I’ll believe it when I see it,” he said. Jay’s voice was shaky and you could tell he was about to cry. He didn’t want you to see him shed any tears, so he said, “I gotta go.” And just like that, he left. 

The living room was now empty except for you, and all of a sudden your emotions hit you like a truck. You felt mostly angry, though. You were angry at those commenters, angry at the fact that Jay felt like he had no real fans, angry at yourself because you didn’t know how to make Jay feel better… tears formed in your eyes and you didn’t try to stop them. You just stared into space as they fell down your face. 

You had to prove to Jay that he had real fans. Did you know how? No. Were you going to rest until you did it? Absolutely not.

~~~

The time was now 1:28 AM. Following the vow you made yourself that you wouldn’t rest until you found a way to make Jay feel better, you were still wide awake, laying on your bed in your room (you had a separate bedroom from the boys). Your mind was racing trying to come up with an idea, but unfortunately you were in a constant cycle of coming up with a new idea and then throwing it away once you saw a flaw in it. 

“It’s useless,” you thought to yourself. You took your phone from under your pillow and logged in to your secret Tiktok account. Belift let you have a secret Tiktok account, and you were grateful for that. Your page looked like a fanpage like any other, but being able to communicate with your fans without them knowing it was y/n from Enhypen, becoming mutuals with them, and participating in the trends they made really made your day. These days, the Sunoo cult was going around, and it was funny to see that pretty much everyone had the same profile picture. 

All of a sudden, a lightbulb went off in your head. What if I started something similar for Jay? You ran to Twitter to find the selfie Jay posted that day and downloaded it. Then you opened a photo editing app, added heart stickers and sparkles all around it, and put some text that said “We love Jay”. Going back to Tiktok, you switched your profile picture to the one you just made.

It looks good, you thought, but how am I going to spread it? It wouldn’t be an easy task, especially since the Sunoo cult was still raging in popularity and you didn’t have much of an audience on Tiktok (71 followers to be exact). The only way to quickly spread the word was to post a Tiktok and expose yourself as y/n from Enhypen… expose yourself as y/n from Enhypen? said your head. No way. You’ll get in hella trouble and you know it. You probably wouldn’t be allowed on your secret Tiktok anymore. 

Do you have any better ideas? said your heart. This would be the fastest way to spread the message. You’re y/n from Enhypen for goodness’ sakes, the fans would listen to you in a heartbeat. Besides, you aren’t doing this for yourself. You’re doing it for Jay.

What your head said made sense, but you would rather help Jay than help yourself. Like you did most of the time, you took your heart’s word for it.

You tried to think of where to film your Tiktok. Your room was definitely not suitable. Unless you wanted to film yourself whispering, the boys would definitely hear you. Your room was adjacent to theirs, and the wall between the two rooms was thinner than a piece of paper… well, not that thin, but thin enough. 

You also considered the living room, but that was also a no-go because anyone could just walk in and see what you were doing. Eventually you decided to film it outside on the porch. There’s no way anyone would be going outside at this time (except you, of course). You slowly crept out of your room, into the hallway, into the living room, careful so as to make as little noise as possible, and eventually out the front door. You took a deep breath of relief and waited for your pounding heart to return to its normal rhythm. 

You turned on the light next to the door so you could see, and then you pulled out your phone and started to record. “Hey everyone, it’s y/n from Enhypen,” you started, but before you could continue you heard the front door open and there was Sunghoon.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked.

You panicked and your heart started to rush again. “I think the real question is, ‘What are you doing out here?’” you said, trying to laugh it off.

“I asked you first though,” Sunghoon said with a smirk. “But I’ll answer your question to humor you. I woke up and I was thirsty, so I made my way to the kitchen to get myself some water. But then I saw that the light outside was on, and I went to check it out. Then I saw you and asked you what you were doing out here.”

“Oh.”

“So what are you doing out here?”

“Well, um, I, you see, see I couldn’t sleep, right?” you answered, stumbling over your words. “So I came out here and started to record a -note video.”

You were sweating bullets and you could feel your heart going 100 miles per hour. By some miracle, though, Sunghoon couldn’t see how anxious you were and he said, “Okay then. Don't stay out too late. Don't forget we start shooting our music video in the afternoon, and we have to get some practice in before then.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll see you in the morning. Good night.”

“See ya,” said Sunghoon as he waved goodbye and closed the door behind him. 

That was way too close, you thought to yourself. I should hurry up and get this filmed before someone else sees me. Even though you were a K-pop idol and you were constantly in front of cameras, you still sometimes felt weird about recording yourself. It took a few takes, but you finally finished filming.

You turned off the light and quietly made your way back to your room so you could edit the video before posting it. You plopped yourself back on your bed and added subtitles to the video. Then you went to add a caption and some hashtags including #welovejay. Your thumb hovered over the “post” button and your head tried to interfere once again. y/n, before you post that, think! is it-

But you didn’t care for any of that; you posted the video without hesitation. Feeling better than you had all day, you decided it was time to get some shut-eye. You put your phone back under your pillow and let your eyes drift to a close. 

~~~

Your alarm, which was “Fairy of Shampoo'' by TXT,  went off at 7:15. You groaned because you didn’t want to wake up, but you liked the song so you didn’t turn off your alarm. Instead, you laid there with your eyes closed because you didn’t feel like opening them. 

Then, all of a sudden you remembered the Tiktok you posted five hours earlier. You opened your eyes and feverishly opened Tiktok to see how the post did. You gasped when you saw that your Tiktok received 150,000 likes and over half a million views. Still in shock of how well your post did, you scrolled through the comments. 

“changed my profile picture! #welovejay”

“OMG ALL THIS TIME I’VE BEEN MUTUALS WITH Y/N FROM ENHYPEN”

“b00sting so more people see this!!!”

You also saw that many of the people in the comments had the same profile picture you made. And #welovejay was used in over one million videos. It worked, you thought to yourself. It really worked! You were so happy that you started doing a little dancey-dance around your room. I can’t wait until Jay sees this. 

~~~

At 10:45, all eight of you were in the practice room, taking a short break from practicing. You watched as Sunghoon and Sunoo made a Tiktok. They were doing the dance of “Me gustas tu” by Gfriend (Sunoo wouldn’t leave Sunghoon alone until he agreed to do it with him).

“Do you like this take?” asked Sunoo.

“It’s definitely better than the last one,” answered Sunghoon, “I think it’s okay to post.”

“Yeah, I think so too.” 

Sunghoon wrote the caption for the video (“Just so you all know, Sunoo made me do this”) and posted it.

“Did you post the video already?” said Jake. “I want to see the comments. Engene's comments crack me up.”

Sunoo motioned for him to come over. “Yeah, we just did. Come and see.” 

Jake walked over to where Sunghoon and Sunoo were. Sunghoon pressed the “comments” button, and all three were shocked by what they saw.

“How come everyone in the comments has the same profile picture?” asked Jake.

“I don't know, but it spread pretty quickly. It hasn’t even been 24 hours since he posted this picture,” Sunoo remarked. 

“What are you guys talking about?” you asked. You walked over to where the three were standing and looked at Sunghoon’s phone, and then you realized what they were talking about. A smile came across your face. “Wow, that’s really cool,” you said as if it wasn’t your doing. “Guys, you gotta come see this, this is really cool.” 

“What is it?” asked Heeseung as he walked over with Jungwon and Ni-ki.

“Everyone has the same profile photo here,” Sunoo beamed. 

Jay didn’t even bother walking over. If everyone has the same profile picture, there’s no way it’s me. It’s probably someone cute like Ni-ki. I’m the last person it could be. He stood aloof as he watched the seven of you gush over the picture.

“Jay-hyung, come see this!” said Jungwon.

Jay sighed and he reluctantly walked over. At least he could be happy for whoever’s picture it was instead of standing there jealous. Nothing could have prepared him for what he was about to see. The second he did, his smile was so huge and it wouldn’t come off his face even though he tried to hide it. “Oh my god,” he said in utter disbelief. “Sunghoon, can I see your phone?” 

Sunghoon handed Jay his phone, and Jay kept scrolling and scrolling through the comments. “This is insane. Everyone really made me their profile picture.” Maybe I do have real fans.

“The text on the picture is so small though, I can’t read what it says,” said Jungwon. 

“Me neither,” said Ni-ki, and everyone else agreed.

Without thinking, you blurted out the answer. “It says ‘We love Jay’.” The seven boys immediately looked at you, and you realized your mistake. 

“How do you know? That text is way too small and none of us can read it,” Jungwon inquired.

You hesitated for a moment, and then you replied, “Well if you click on one of the profiles and click on the picture, you’ll be able to zoom in and see what the text says.”

“Is that how you found out what it says? Because none of us clicked on any of the profiles.”

Oh. You didn’t think about that. There was no way around it now. Guess it was time to tell them the truth. Just as you opened your mouth to speak, you heard the sound of your least favorite manager storming through the hallway and screaming, “PARK Y/N!!!” 

“Holy shit, y/n,” said Ni-ki. “What did you do this time?”

You knew exactly what was about to happen. The manager burst through the door, anger scribbled all over her face. She walked over to where you were, and she pulled out her phone, revealing a screenshot of your Tiktok. She pointed the screen in your direction. “Park y/n,” she yelled in lower case, trying to calm herself down, “What. Is. This.”

The other seven pairs of eyes in the room were on you, expecting an answer. But you stayed silent. 

The manager couldn’t keep her cool anymore. “Do you not understand Korean?? I asked you WHAT IS THIS???” 

“A Tiktok,” you mumbled.

“Oh my goodness, y/n,” she started as she took a deep breath. “I’ve known you for eight long years, and of all of the ridiculous things you’ve done, this is by far the most audacious! What possessed you to do this, huh?! Do you remember the day I agreed to let you have a secret account?!”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Last I remember, the secret account was to be SECRET! Not known or not seen by the public. How could you go directly against our agreement?? Look at this - 700,000 likes! This was when I screenshotted it. Who KNOWS how many it could have now!”

700,000 likes? Wow, it blew up so much since I last checked. When I woke up it only had 150,000. You were so excited that your plan worked, and you didn’t realize that a tiny smile crept up on your face.

“YAH!” screamed the manager. “How can you be laughing right now?! Is that what you have to say for yourself?! Why did you even do this?!”

You took a deep breath to calm yourself down before you spoke. “Mrs. Choi, did you watch the video?”

“y/n, I don't give a rat’s ass what’s in your video. It's probably something stupid. There’s no reason you couldn’t have posted it on Enhypen’s official Tiktok.”

“I believe if you watch the video, you’ll understand why I posted it.”

“Nonsense,” she huffed as she opened Tiktok to find your video. “Let’s hear it.” The video started as she turned her volume all the way up.

“Hey, everyone, it’s y/n from Enhypen. Um, this has been my secret account for a while. I guess it won’t be much of a secret anymore after I post this, and I’ll more than likely get in trouble for it, but I don't care. What I need to say is that important. You guys know Jay. Well, he’s having a tough time and I really wanted to encourage him. Do you guys see my profile picture? I made it myself. If you guys want to do me a favor, you can change your profile picture to this so we can show Jay how much we love him. I’ll put the picture at the end so you can crop it. If you don't want to change your profile picture that’s completely fine; you can also help by boosting the video so more people see it. Like, comment, share/copy link, use the hashtag #welovejay, whatever you need to do. If I don't post again on here, it means I got in trouble. Engene, I’m counting on you. Hwaiting!”

As the video ended, Mrs. Choi’s anger faded away. “Oh,” she said softly. “Did any of you know about this?”

“Yes and no,” answered Jake. “Sunghoon and Sunoo just posted a Tiktok, and we saw that all of the commenters had the same profile picture, but we didn’t know that it was y/n who started it.”

“I need to see this,” said Mrs. Choi. She searched for Enhypen’s most recent Tiktok on her phone and looked through the comments. “You know what y/n?” she said as she looked up from her phone to face you, “I respect you for this. I’m sorry that I got so angry at you.”

“It’s okay,” you said.

“While I respect what you did, that doesn’t change the fact that you broke the agreement you and I had. I can’t let you go without consequences. Consider the secret Tiktok thing over. From now on, the only one you use is @enhypen. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” you said. 

“Good,” she said. She took a deep breath. “Well, I’ll see the eight of you later at the music video shoot.”

You all bowed as you said bye, and Mrs. Choi took her leave. 

After she left, the room went silent. You could tell that everyone else was thinking about what just happened and you tried to divert their attention to something else. “Well, we should get back to practicing.”

“Not so fast,” said Heeseung. “y/n, you’re the one who started the Jay profile picture thing?”

You looked at him and nodded.

“Respect,” he said. He extended his fist and you gave him a fist bump, and you smiled. 

Out of nowhere, Jay gave you a back hug and rested his head on your shoulder. “Guys, can I talk to y/n alone for a minute?”

“Yeah, of course. Take your time,” said Heeseung. At that, the boys left the practice room, leaving you and Jay alone.

“You really did that for me?” he said softly.

“Of course,” you said without hesitation as you turned to look at him. “That’s what friends are for. I saw the way your face lit up when you saw all those comments. That moment was priceless. I wouldn’t trade that for anything.” 

“I suppose so.” You noticed that Jay’s voice was a bit shaky. Then you realized why when you saw tears roll down his face.

“Jay-ah, why are you crying?” you said as you wiped his tears away. 

“It’s my fault your Tiktok got taken away,” he said regrettfully. “I remember how excited you would get when you made a new friend on there. I really took away your greatest joy.”

“No you didn’t, Jay. I got my Tiktok taken away because I broke a rule,” you assured him.

“But you wouldn’t have had to if I-”

“Shhhh,” you interrupted. “You’re being too loud. I don't listen to Jay slander.”

Jay laughed a little and tried to hide his smile by looking away. “I see you smiling, Jay, don't try to hide it,” you said playfully.

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are!”

“Okay, you got me,” Jay said as he pulled you in for a hug. “You best believe I’m going to bug Mrs. Choi until she lets you have your account back.”

“You can try, but don't be surprised when it doesn’t work.”

“It will. I’m her favorite, so she’ll have to listen to me,” Jay said confidently.

“Boy, since when are you her favorite?”

“Since forever.”

“You wish.”

“No, you wish.”

~~~

Two weeks later, you knocked on the door of Mrs. Choi’s office. 

“Come in,” she said. 

You walked through the door and bowed. 

“You needed to see me?” you said. She was sitting in her desk and she didn’t look at you.

“Yeah,” she said. “Take a seat.”

You did as she said. Her eyes were still glued to the computer and she was typing something. You were worried because you had no idea what she was about to say, so you sat there nervously as your hands started to sweat. 

Finally Mrs. Choi looked away her computer and turned to face you. She took a deep breath and said, “I regret to inform you that I’m allowing you back on your Tiktok account.”

“Regret to inform you”? You wanted to ask why she would regret that, but you didn’t want to say anything that might change her mind, so you simply said, “Thank you.”

She turned back to typing on her computer. “You should be grateful your friend is so annoying. Jay would not leave me alone until I agreed to let you have it back.”

“Oh,” you said. You had completely forgotten that Jay had said he would do that.

“Know this: you are on very, very, very thin ice. One more slip-up and it's over, no matter how much your friends annoy me. You understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. That’s all I have to say to you. Go back to whatever you were doing, and don't you dare forget what I said.”

Standing up to leave, you said, “I won’t. Thank you, Mrs. Choi.” You bowed once again and left her office. 

Once you closed the door behind you, the first thing you saw was Jay across from you in the hallway, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and a smug look on his face. 

“I told you it would work.”

[mourntheantagonist]

Billy Hargrove’s Exploration Of Beauty

| part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 |

Part 7: When Blue Met Pink

chapter one: joyce

also on ao3

Billy pulled into the parking space outside of Melvald’s with a screech of the tires. The body of the car slightly jerked forward once he finally came to a complete stop just before he would hit the yellow parking block. The right tire sat just outside the white line, a rookie looking parking job to say the least.

With his wallet in one hand, and his keys twirled around the index finder of his other, as he heard the metal pieces clank, he walked through the glass doors into the store. He heard the chime of the opening door ring through the mostly empty space.There were only a few people. An old lady who was carefully inspecting the soup aisle, and a middle aged woman with her toddler son who were walking past the ice cream. The little kid with his hand up in the air, his finger pointed to the tub of rocky road that was barely visible through fogged over glass. He noticed the exhausted eyes of the woman masked by heavy mascara and shadow. “I already said no Daniel.” she sighed. Joyce Byers was at the counter, her elbows resting by the cash register, head propped up in her hands as she stared blankly in front of her with her head tilted in a way that indicated she was thinking about something that the rest of the world just couldn’t comprehend.

He ignored the total three figures that roamed the aisles of the small little corner store, offered a wave and a smile to Mrs. Byers that went completely unnoticed, and got to the task at hand. Not there to pick up some milk or butter like Neil always had him do whenever they ran out, as if he was the one sneaking spoonfuls of butter at two in the morning. No, that was all Max, the fucking weirdo. He also wasn’t there to pick up a pack of cigarettes, though he probably would once he got to the counter, considering the phrase “pack of reds” served as his default greeting to every cashier. He was there, at Melvald’s, at three in the afternoon, like a fucking sap, because he was buying little treats for the boyfriend he had waiting for him at the big house off of 3rd avenue, a movie and hopefully more as their evening plans.

He knew what Steve liked. He hated what Steve liked. But despite his utter disgust over strawberry fruit snacks tainting delicious cheddar cheese popcorn, the smile on Steve’s face whenever he tossed a new box of Sunkist Fun Fruits at him was worth the effort of sifting through the bowl. He located the snack aisle and picked out the familiar yellow and red box, along with some Orville Redenbacher. The time on the clock overhead read only a quarter after three, and Steve wouldn’t be home from dealing with the nerd herd until at least a quarter ‘til, so with his extra time, he continued to browse.

He picked up a couple of other things. A box of Twinkies so he could make some of his favorite jokes, some Ho Hos so Steve could make some of his. The basket was slowly filled to the brim with junk food, indicative of a truly wild night ahead of him.

On his way to the refrigerated section to scope out the drinks, the glimpse of a carefully assorted rainbow of colors stopped him in his tracks. It’s a small section, no more than two and a half feet in diameter, but at almost the instant he recognized the familiarly shaped bottles on display, he went on complete pause. There was nobody anywhere around him, no sound of nearing footsteps, so he let himself stand there and ponder. Let himself imagine just reaching out and touching something on display as he kept his eyes averted, locked straightforwardly toward the cases of beer behind translucent refrigerator doors. He just stared blankly, with an inner attempt to form some reasonable excuse to be a man who was looking at makeup.

“Oh, Max asked me to pick it up for her.”

He settled on that one.

And turned his head.

He was just going to look. That was all.

There held a whole magnitude of various beauty products, from polishes, to moisturizers, to lipsticks…

That rosy pink stared right back at him like it was screaming at him to pick it up. To look. To swatch. To taste. To feel that velvety cream cover his lips. A tint similar to that of his own lips but just more… pretty. Smooth and elegant and airbrushed. “Soft matte look,” it read.

He wanted it.

He wanted to add it into the basket of goodies he’s already collected as another treat for himself. Maybe a treat for Steve if he decides he likes it.

They discussed it in the past in a very, tip-toed around the subject kind of way. Steve gently held his hand in his as he applied a light pink varnish, similar to that of the lipstick shade, onto his nails. Steady hands perfectly coated the area without any sign of streaks or rough edges. They’d reached a point where that was routine, a little thing Billy could have of himself while they were alone together. Another thing they could add onto the list. It was something Billy felt just a little bit of safety around taking with him that one time. When the night had gone so perfectly with hot cocoa by the furnace, and the added bonus that Neil wouldn’t be home to inspect his appearance, he said no to the cotton balls and acetone and the clear coat replacement and instead let color coated nails remain under the cloak of his jacket pockets. He was on cloud nine as he walked through the door of his own house with concealed hands and no questions asked. He locked the door to his room and allowed himself to stare down at his hands. Fingers splayed against his bedding looking at how the pink contrasted with the blue of his sheets, and he felt an overwhelming sense of contentment and a little dash of pride.

That same night, while his nails were going from bland to bold, Steve popped the question like it held no weight at all. Like it was just a casual sort of thing used to fill the silent gaps.

“Have you thought about wearing makeup at all?”

He didn’t even look at him when he said it, completely enthralled in the way the bristles contacted the nail, so he didn’t see Billy's eyes widen like saucers. However, he did notice as the hand in his hold began trembling.

Steve ever so slightly tightened his grip to help reduce the shaking, his eyes angled up at Billy finally, the painting temporarily discontinued. “Hey, are you okay?” he asked.

No. Yes? The thing was, with Steve’s first question, the answer was yes. He had thought about it. All the damn time. Like a woodpecker pecking away at his skull, he thought about it. Every time he saw a woman with a shimmer on her eyes, black in her waterline, a shine to her lips, a rosy tint to her cheeks… he felt unbridled envy. He wanted to feel the way they felt. Billy wanted powder to clog his pores and give his face a uniform color. Become a blank slate. He envied that soft and smooth and gentle and pretty appearance.

He found himself on more than one occasion sneaking into the master bathroom where Susan had kept all of her make up. Too scared to touch it, he would just look at it. Try to psyche himself up to reach for that little tube of Mary Kay mascara and shove it into his pocket before the rumble of the truck outside would shake the house.

Instead he would slam the drawer shut and rush back to his room and forget it even happened as he bit away at his clear coated nails. He’d fall back onto his pillow and let his eyes fall shut. He would let the darkness consume him into a dream where he didn’t have to be afraid to add volume to his already long lashes or add a tinted gloss to his lips. He’d enjoy the free feeling for as long as it would last.

So yeah. He thought about wearing makeup.

He didn’t tell Steve that though. Instead he chose to only respond to the second question. Because some things were just a little too hard to say out loud. Some things were a little too foreign.

As much as Billy wanted to bridge that gap between femininity and masculinity, he also had every desire to keep them separate. To push away all of those urges to wear lacy lingerie and silk panties. Keep his hair short, face and nails bare and unkempt. Smell of sweat and hard work like a man. “I’m fine.” he said in lieu of the complete truth. It didn’t feel or sound like a lie when he said it. But later on he figures out that it definitely was.

They had that conversation already, but it didn’t keep those thoughts from lingering. His mind was boggled with confusion about who he was and what he liked and the additional bafflement over how simple it all was to Steve.

So simple in fact that he said the most perfect thing as if it was just another instinctual flick of the tongue.

“Well I can bet you’d look real pretty with lipstick.”

It was said like he wants it. Not just for Billy’s sake, but his own, and that right there felt amazing.

That was the first night he finally let his hands sift through that drawer of Susan’s and sneak away a couple of items. Susan and Neil had yet to arrive home from their trip into the city so Billy was safe. He had painted nails that felt like a shield. When he held the tube of mascara, the nude bullet lipstick, and the only bottle of polish he could find in his own hands, he felt completely untouchable.

He locked himself in his own room and stood in front of his makeshift vanity. Tossed the stolen objects into the mess of cologne, hairspray, and cigarette ash. He just studied himself for a moment. Hunched over taking deep and shaky breaths, in and out. Every logical thought in his mind was shouting at him to go put it back. To put it somewhere other than his room. That dreadful thought that just its temporary occupancy in his room would be easily detected by Neil, even if he chucked it out of his window right then, scared him. It was all too risky to be doing in his own house, yet he still twisted open the cap of the mascara and pulled out the wand.

It was in that moment that Billy had no fucking clue what he was doing. Didn’t even know where to begin.

He just closed it right back up, slipped it underneath a stack of records, and moved on. He twisted open the lipstick only to be met with a very light shade. Lighter than his own skin color. Applied to his lips it just looked absolutely ridiculous. It didn’t give him that pop of vibrancy he envied in the women he saw. It made his lips feel more sunken in and lifeless, rather than big and beautiful.

And he already knew he hated the nail polish. He didn’t even have to apply it. It was a rust color, like a dirty orange. Billy hated the color orange, and mixing it with brown didn’t fucking improve it.

It was all a total bust. A complete waste of his energy. With his sleeve he wiped the lipstick from his lips and stowed away the rest of the contraband. He went to bed feeling extra shitty, the despair of empty darkness was the only thing included in his night.

He stopped letting himself think about makeup since that night. All it achieved was making him feel disappointed and just... bad. No other way to describe it.

But it all came flooding back when he saw the display. Not the bad feelings, the good ones, the ones he had in his dreams. The feeling of completion that couldn’t be realized with the makeup Susan guilt purchased off of a friend’s “growing small business.” There was a little hope growing in the pit of his stomach as he let himself peruse the many options at his disposal. A little bit of hope that maybe he just didn’t have the right stuff.

He just held the pink lipstick in his hand. He debated between dropping it into the basket or hanging it back up on the hook. Twiddling it in between his fingers, he let his mind race to many different places. Emotions of fear and joy clashed in his mind, like he couldn’t have one without facing the other.

But fear wasn’t dependent on joy. Because a small woman cleared her throat next to him and, surely enough, the only thing he was feeling at that moment was complete terror. Not an ounce of happiness to be seen.

It was Joyce Byers.

Well shit.

“Whatcha got there?” she asked, neck craned to the left to make out what he had tightly clasped between his fingers.

“It’s for Max.” he said, too assuredly. Like it was clearly a prepared statement, the lie obvious in the pitch of his voice.

“Really? Max doesn’t strike me as a makeup girl.” It’s not really accusatory, not necessarily. But he could hear it. That ever so slight undertone in her voice that had disbelief written all over it. Her head was cocked just like it was when he first walked into the store, and it felt like she was reading him like a goddamn open book.

Billy couldn’t seem to find the words, unsure how to defend himself in the situation he was completely unprepared for. Stood there in silence as he let the words filter through his brain, waiting for the right ones to pop up in front of him, but they never did. He never really knew how to talk to older women other than through excessive and overdone flirtation.

“What shade did you pick?”

With no other choice in his immediate thoughts, he handed the lipstick tube over. She slowly took it away from his slightly too tight of a grip. She had a slight smile when she pulled off the cap to see the rose colored tip slowly rise out as she twists the bottom of the silver tube.

“This is pretty, though I think a shade like this would complement a skin tone more like your own. Wouldn’t you agree?”

That was the invitation, right there in that subtle little nod. She made eye contact with him before she quickly turned her eyes downward at his hands. the same hands that were nervously chipping away at dried, hideous, rust colored nail polish that he painted just before he left as a little surprise for Steve. Even though he hated the color, even though his right hand looked much better than his left. Ambidexterity was not something in his wheelhouse. He immediately stuffed his one free hand into his pocket, and tossed the other one that was currently holding his basket of groceries behind his back. As if she hadn’t already seen. She’d figured him out like some elementary math problem. The lipstick and the nail polish was just a 2 + 2 = 4 kind of situation.

“I don’t - this isn’t…” He couldn’t get a full sentence out because he really had no clue as to how to deny it, and there’s also a weird feeling that he loathes where he’s not sure he even wants to. She was just Joyce Byers. His only connection to the woman had a pretty long chain. Steve’s ex’s boyfriend’s Mom. Or Max’s friend’s Mom. Nothing direct. Nothing so close that he had to truly fear. Additionally, she was being nice? She wasn’t doing the things he’d always expected people to do. She wasn’t spewing slurs or making fun. There was a genuine motherly interest in the way she asked for the color that wasn’t completely foreign, but it was something so far away in his past that it might as well have been.

His face got red from just his own natural blush. His heart was racing, beating out of his chest until he could hear the blood pumping in his ears. He felt like he’s being submerged under water until there was a small, cold hand pulling at his own.

“Come with me.” she says, her voice soft and planned. Billy just let her guide him, giving up and giving in to the little temptation to let someone else inside of the little sanctuary he built for himself. Even if all it was was just a small little glimpse into Billy’s secret world he’d only just begun exploring. He had so many things left to discover, things he wouldn’t find if he let his fear and shame dictate everything.

Joyce led him into the compact supply closet in the back of the store. They’re surrounded by shelves filled with boxes and various miscellany. He felt slightly suffocated in the small enclosure, but simultaneously a weird feeling of warmth in the way Joyce smiled at him. A soft upturn of the corners of her mouth, lips still sealed but the sincerity clear in the brightness of her eyes and the slight rise of her brows.

“What were you looking to get?” she asks. Unspecific yet specific. She left a name unattached to the end of the question on purpose to give Billy the opportunity for an out, if he wanted to deny the thing they both knew to be true.

“Lipstick? Gloss maybe? I don’t - I’m not sure I…”

After taking the full basket from his hands and setting it onto the floor, Joyce took his hands into her own again.

“It’s okay, y’know, if it’s not for Max.”

She was so straightforward. She just got right to the point without it feeling like an attack. Just strode right in with unwavering acceptance and affirmation. Letting him know that it was okay.

He looked at Joyce and saw his mom. Not the mom who abandoned him with Neil, but the mom who did things like this. The one who would cradle him after a nightmare and who told him he was destined for greatness. The one who encouraged him to be himself even when his father had other ideas.

“You know who you are. Nobody else gets to say differently.” she’d tell him when his father forced him into baseball and threw out his stuffed animals. Neil would go on to replace the keepsakes that represented softness with model cars and legos. It was just an act of toughening him up and preparing him to become a man at the ripe old age of seven. He was reminded daily of his role as a man in society with little tests just to make sure he stayed in line.

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Red.” he’d say, when he wanted to say purple.

He’d get berated when he cried when he got hurt.

“If you want to cry I’ll give you something to cry about,” Neil would say, as he stuck a hydrogen peroxide saturated cotton ball into the open wound.

Billy’s Mom never did that. Always warned him about the sting and rubbed his arm the whole way through. Preaching the opposite of everything his Dad would say. “It’s okay to cry, honey. Just let it out.”

His Mom was beautiful. He loved to sit in the bathroom and watch her as she put on her makeup. He’d seen the way her mouth dropped open when she applied mascara to her eyes, the way she smacked her lips together after she swiped on her favorite red lipstick... he wanted to be just like her.

He’d stolen from her once, and it didn’t end well. It was just a red lipstick. He was caught, almost literally, red handed. When his father had barged into his bedroom without so much as a knock, the red on his lips turned into red elsewhere. It was a mistake he learned never to repeat.

After all that, there he was, in a store where he listened to a woman tell him that all of the things he was raised to believe were far from okay, were perfectly okay. With Steve’s voice in his head echoing that of his Mom’s and Joyce’s, he let himself actually believe it this time.

“Thanks.” Billy said. It’s the closest thing he’ll get to an admission. He can’t outright say it, but in the way her smile widened before she turned around, he knew she understood.

“So,” she said, “–I have some product we can’t sell because the seals were broken. They’re still perfectly fine if you would like them.” She pulled a couple of things from the box on the lower shelf. The same lipstick he’d held out in the store along with a clear gloss, a small eyeshadow palette, some face powder and mascara. A full face worth of makeup moved from the palms of her hands into his own, accepting them with a nod of his head and the sniffle of someone trying to hold back tears.

“Are you sure?” he asked. A question with multiple meanings. All of which Joyce seems to pick up on. She pulled him into a tight hug. A warmth encompassed him all around that made him feel so overcome and just… good. Joyful and free like a painful growth was painlessly removed along with the truth’s reveal.

“Yes. I’m sure Billy. It’s okay.” An answer with multiple meanings.

They both exit the small closet, it felt like a metaphor for something. He headed up to the counter to buy his items, and Joyce began scanning his things when she got another smile on her face.

“Special occasion tonight?” she asked.

“Yeah. I got a hot date.” Not a lie.

She laughed a little before she punched the keys on the register.

“Anything else I can get for you Billy?”

Billy smiled.

“A pack of Reds.”

- : -

When Billy pulled into the driveway of Steve’s house he barged right in through the front door. He held the paper bag close to his chest and he shouted an “I have arrived!” that echoed up the stairs and all the way up to Steve’s room. Billy could hear the springs of Steve’s bed before he got up and rushed down the stairs to greet him with a little peck on the lips, immediately taking the bag from Billy’s hands to begin the formal review of his selections.

Steve set the bag onto the coffee table and began to sift through all of the things Billy bought. He tossed the cigarette pack at Billy with aggressive force before going right back into the bag.

The real surprise laid close to the bottom of the bag, hidden beneath the Twinkies and the popcorn and all the other junk food that had Steve beaming. Food was truly the easiest way to Steve’s heart.

Billy stood there tapping his foot and grabbing at his hands behind his back as he waited for Steve to see all the other things he got, to give him that little reaction he always knew would be positive, no matter the voices in his head that told him otherwise.

He seemed to have reached the bottom of the bag when he stalled. He just stared into the bottom of the brown paper bag, the table already covered in scattered candy and snacks, the only things left in the bag were the gifts from Joyce.

“Please tell me you’re going to put this on tonight.” Steve finally turned to look at him with an absolute ridiculous smile on his face. His mouth and eyes couldn’t possibly get any wider than they were right then. He seemed so fucking excited and it all radiated straight into Billy, and all he could do was walk up to him and kiss him. Billy pulled Steve’s face with both hands and practically consumed him like he was one of those Hostess desserts. Two untameable smiles pressed up against each other.

Billy reached for the tube of lipstick out of the bag and held it in between the two of them, he asked, “Are you going to help me put it on?”

Billy was wrong. Steve’s smile could get wider. Steve took Billy by the hand and sat him down on the couch, taking the bag with him as he straddled Billy’s lap.

“You know what you’re doing pretty boy?” Billy asked. He pushed Steve’s hair behind his ears as he looked up at him in awe. He relished in Steve’s excitement that was perfectly matching his own. It was all he could ever ask for.

“Yeah,” he said, “I’ve seen Nancy do it enough times.” Billy rolls his eyes at the mention of her name. Steve poked him in the face, causing Billy's face to scrunch. “Oh get over it Billy, I am.”

Billy was already shaking with anticipation and just wanted to get on with it without the mention of Steve’s former girlfriend. “Just shut up. Make me the prettier one.”

“Oh you already are, gorgeous.”

Steve twisted open the lipstick and carefully held Billy’s chin up so he was looking directly at him. With a steady hand and a soft touch, the smooth cream brushed against his lips and coated them to perfection. No overdrawn lines or transferring to his teeth, the color suited him so well, just a soft pink just slightly darker and more vibrant than the color of his own. It made his lips look bolder and fuller than they already were.

“Now look straight forward for me,” Steve said before he reached into the bag for another piece of product. “–and raise your eyebrows.” Steve twisted and pulled the wand from the metallic gold tube, the black bristles looked like spider legs. “Okay, hold still.”

“I swear to God Steve, if you poke me in the fucking eye–”

“Have some faith in me, damn!”

Fortunately for both Billy and Steve, none of the black goopy liquid found its way into Billy’s eyes. There was only a minor sting that, with time, he could easily see himself get used to. The sensation was followed by the feeling of soft bristles going in circles around his cheeks. Steve had asked him to smile for the application, but that wasn’t the reason he was doing it. The look of focus in Steve’s eyes along with the slight exposure of the tip of his tongue through his mostly sealed lips had sent Billy reeling.

Steve leaned back to get a complete view of his work. “Wow, I’m good.”

“Okay, hot shot,” Billy said with a nudge to his shoulder, “show me then.”

In a moment of surprising strength, Steve hoisted Billy up and over his shoulder by the grab of his ass. Billy’s stomach had come to rest right on the point of Steve’s shoulder, which sent him into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. His voice fluctuated and bounced with each step Steve took down the hall toward the bathroom. Billy clung to Steve’s shirt, hiking it up past the midpoint of his as he did so.

“Oh my god! Put me down!” he laughed.

Billy’s legs flailed, with the result of a knocked over a lamp and a bruised ankle from the abrupt contact with the doorframe.

“Ow!”

“Sorry!”

Steve sat Billy on the edge of the sink, his face still faced away from the mirror. They were still coming down from their laughter when Billy, seemingly having forgotten about the makeover that he had just been given not even a full minute ago, leant down in an attempt to lay one right onto Steve.

“Hey, don’t ruin it before you even see it!” Steve pushed him back away from him and then helped him down from the sink and with a comforting grip of Billy’s biceps, he turned him around. “See? it looks so good on you!” Steve stood behind Billy with his hands trailing down to his waist, head over his shoulder, looking at him like he was his brilliant creation. Steve Harrington’s masterpiece, his most prized possession. “Wait right here, I got you something.”

Left alone in the bathroom, Billy was able to just let himself stare. Let himself lean in close to the mirror, his nose nearly touched the glass as he studied the tint to his lips, the definition to his lashes, the slight pink to his cheeks... It was the first time he ever looked at himself, like really looked at himself, and saw someone pretty. He truly believed it this time.

Steve came back with a bag of his own. It was a small bag with a French name on the side of it Black, and elegant, and Billy already had an idea of what’s inside. The day just kept on getting better. Billy tore the tissue out of the bag, and pulled the pieces of fabric out. It was a dust rose garter belt with stockings, panties, and a bralette, a perfect match for his lips. The lace was so sheer and the baroque floral patterns were so elegant he wanted nothing more than to just put it on right there. Strip himself down to the bare essentials and allow the openwork to protect him.

“You think you wanna give me a fashion show?” Steve asked, pulling the sleeves of Billy’s jacket down over his shoulders. Billy smiled and pushed Steve gently out the bathroom door and shut it right in his face.

He wasted no time putting it on. The way the fabric sat on his hips and his chest felt almost like it was tailored specifically to him. Enough room in the crotch area while also perfectly hugging his hips. The stockings squeezing his thighs just the perfect amount. There was no uncomfortable overhang in the bralette. He had never felt more comfortable wearing anything before. The pink on tan skin, the emphasis on every curve of his. He felt so soft and pretty and almost totally complete. He was just missing one thing.

Billy strutted out of the bathroom with a genuine conviction he’d never had before. There was no fear this time, no tears. Just pure elation at the prospect of Steve seeing him like this. Loving the way he looks in lingerie and makeup. Loving him for who he is and thinking he’s still hot. Still sexy and attractive.

“Holy shit you look fucking amazing baby.” Steve slowly walked toward him. He took in the whole view, committing the entire sight to memory because it was absolutely glorious. “I hope you aren’t mad,” he began, his hands finding Billy’s hips. “but I had my Mom pick it up while she was in Paris. I found out they make men’s lingerie there and I wanted you to have something special. She doesn’t know who it was for, but she knows I’m dating a guy now.”

They had never really discussed the topic of coming out. It felt like something that didn’t need to be said. Telling people was something so far off the radar of possibility that Billy felt a creeping sensation of absolute dread before he was finally able to open up his mouth to speak.

“And she was okay with it?”

Steve smiled and bowed his head just slightly. “Surprisingly, yeah. She was the one who wanted to pick something up for you. So I jumped on the chance.”

“Does your Dad know?” Steve laughed and shook his head.

“God I hope not. His brain would probably explode.” Billy pulled Steve in by the hold of his cheeks, and let their foreheads touch while they stared deep into each other’s eyes. Steve’s hands traced up and down the curves of Billy’s body, fingers dragged against the lace and their smiles were uncontrollable. “I’m sorry, I should have asked you first.”

“Hey,” Billy’s voice was soft, “I’m happy for you.” Steve's sigh of relief was hot against Billy’s mouth. “And thank you, for this.” he said before the distance between them was finally closed and lips were pressed to lips, pink color smeared all over each other’s faces.

The only thing better than wearing that lipstick was having Steve ruin it.

next part

[abbyilr1967]

It’s Not Fine - JJ Maybank x Reader

A/n: This fic does contain spoilers for the 7th episode of Outer Banks, I suggest you go watch the show if you haven’t already. If you are new to my work, you can find a full Masterlist Here. 

Summary: You, Kie, and Pope make you way over to John B’s house to finish prepping for the gold extraction. Little did you know, JJ was there, with a special surprise for his friends. 

dt: @buckybeebarnes​ ily girl (btw go check her page out, she posts some cool stuff)

Warnings: This does contain themes of abuse, does contain spoilers for Outer Banks on Netflix. 

Word Count: 1k-ish

You pull up to John B’s house with the supplies for the gold extraction in the back of Pope’s truck. He had picked up you and Kie to help finish up the last of the prep work before tomorrow’s activities, hoping that JJ would come to his senses and show up to help as well. You all had known about the way JJ’s dad treats him at home, so when John B called him out on acting like his dad, you knew JJ must have taken that really hard. It didn’t help that everyone started to gang up on him, calling him out for his shitty behavior. Including you. 

You probably had the closest relationship with JJ, you two were inseparable, always hanging out and messing around. You could always go to him for anything, even if it was just someone to talk to. And he knew he could do the same with you, even if he never did. He was your best friend, and you couldn’t imagine life without him. Safe to say, you’ve been worried about him all day. 

“He’ll be fine,” Kie said. “He just needs some time.” But that didn’t stop you from worrying. He’s all you’ve been able to think about. 

“That tin can hold over like… two hundred, three hundred pounds. Right, Y/n?” Pope’s question pulls you back to reality. 

“Huh?” you respond. 

“The tin we’re using to lift the gold outta the well, it can hold more than like three hundred pounds right?” he asks again. 

“Oh yeah, it’ll be able to hold a lotta gold,” you reassure. 

As you’re helping them unload the back of Pope’s truck, John B’s back yard becomes fully illuminated. 

“Who the hell is that?” Kie asks. You all make your way over to the backyard, and find JJ sitting in a very expensive looking hot tub. Surrounded by fancy LED/ string lights, and a bunch of inflatable flamingos. You also notice the large bottle of champagne in his hand. 

“What did you do JJ?” Pope asks, concerned. 

“I got a jet going straight into my butt right now, y’all better get in immediately,” JJ says eagerly. 

“JJ how much did this all cost?” you ask sternly. 

“You know what, with the generator, petrol, and overnight shipping.” he pauses for a minute to calculate in his head. “All of it.” 

You tried your best to stay calm during all this, but you knew JJ had practical uses for the money he stole, and he still decided to use it irresponsibly. 

“JJ, you spent all the money in one day?” Pope asks sounding stunned. 

The four of you stay silent, the tension was so thick that you could cut it with a knife. JJ takes a second to collect himself before he speaks again. 

“Finest in jet-massage therapy… or at least that’s what they told me,” he chuckles. 

“Can’t a guy have a little luxury in his life, and buy his friends a nice new hot tub.” the four of you go silent again, you can feel as the anger slowly being to boil underneath your skin. 

“So come on, get in The Cats Ass,” he laughs. 

“The what?” Kie asks disgustingly. 

“The Cats Ass, that’s what I named her,” he says going to pet the side of the hot tub. “Oh hey, watch this.” JJ reaches over and presses a button, causing fountains on the sides of the tub to start spraying water out of them, as a disco ball lights up above him. That pushed you over the edge. 

“JJ, you could’ve used that to pay your restitution!” you shout. You can see JJ’s expression change from one of excitement, to one of fear, as he flinches at the volume of your voice.  

“You know what, John B was right, you are starting to act irresponsibly like your dad,” you huff. 

Pope and Kie both look at each other with stunned expressions, as the gravity of your words hit you.

“JJ I-” 

“You know what Y/n,” JJ cuts you off. “I didn’t do that. I bought a hot tub for my friends. “Hey-, no. Screw friends…. I bought this for my family,” JJ stands up, and as he does you can see three large welts across his stomach. 

“Look I did all this for you guys, I bought all this for you,” you can hear as JJ’s voice starts to crack. You can feel the tears as they begin to well in your eyes

“JJ get outta the tub, let’s talk about this-” Kie tries to reason with him, 

“No Kie, just stop being emotional it’s fine,” JJ’s expression suddenly saddens. 

 And in that instant, you are rushing to him. Getting in the hot tub fully clothed to soothe your friend. You wrap your arms around him, allowing him to sob into your chest. You feel as he slowly wraps his arms around your waist, holding you so tightly. Like he’s never been hugged before. You’re both sobbing when Kie and Pope climb into the tub to comfort JJ along with you. 

“I couldn’t do it, I can’t take him anymore.” JJ cries. “I was gonna kill him.”. You instinctively wrap your arms around him tighter, as if you are trying to protect him from all the bad in the world. 

“I just wanna do the right thing,” he sobs. 

“We know, We know,” you say trying to reassure the broken person holding onto you for dear life. 

“We got you…. I got you,” you tell him. 

“I’ve always got you,” you whisper to him. 

[astraguardian]

Clover Ebi is Important

I was inspired to write this after seeing posts where people suggested that Clover was a “nobody” in-universe and that we were never supposed to care for him as a character. Clearly quite a few of us think otherwise, and I wanted to go into detail on why that’s the case. I’ll be primarily focusing on how the show used framing to set Clover up as an important character who we should pay attention to, while also touching on how Clover is shown to fulfill a high-level role in-universe in the Atlesian military. I previously discussed Clover’s role in the trailer for volume 7 and that post can be found here.

Clover and the Ace-Ops

For this section, we’ll mostly be discussing how Clover is given more focus than the other Ace-Ops in terms of both framing and screen time. Fun fact, a reddit user who ranks the word count of each character in RWBY found that Clover had 1,259 words this volume. So, what exactly does that mean? For starters, it means that Clover spoke more words than all of the other Ace-Ops combined, who add up to 1,176 words among the four of them. It means that Clover has the 22nd highest word count out of all characters in the series and it means that he has the highest word count for any character who has only appeared in a single volume, beating out Jinn by 27 words. It also means that Clover, in one volume, has spoken just under 100 more words than Penny Polendina, our winter maiden, has spoken in the entire series. The reddit user also found the characters with the top three word counts per volume, and Clover had the second most words spoken this volume, only beaten out by Ironwood. None of this seems fitting for an “unimportant” side character.

With that said, we’ll start by looking at episode 1 and Clover’s introduction to the show before we dive into the opening.

Our first shot of the Ace-Ops has Elm, Vine, Marrow, and Harriet looking off-frame at what we soon find out is Clover. From the very beginning, Clover is shown separated from his team as the leader, and most relevant member of the Ace-Ops. He’s established as the one they look to for orders.

When Clover finally comes into frame, we have not one,

not two,

but three shots of him before we see his face.

You don’t build up to a character reveal for someone considered irrelevant.

The rest of the scene sees Clover handling the relic and explaining why the Ace-Ops have been called to Mantle. Pietro asking what the Ace-Ops are doing down in Mantle suggests that this sort of work would likely be below their pay grade, that the Ace-Ops are expected to be undertaking more important missions. It should also be pointed out that Clover is the only Ace-Op who speaks in this entire episode. While he’s given more characterization in episode 2, Clover’s establishing character moment happens in episode 1. We’re shown that he’s the confident, collected leader of a group high up in Atlas’ military.

Even the end of the scene focuses on Clover. The Ace-Ops move in separate directions when they leave, but the scene follows Clover as he heads off.

The opening only serves to reinforce the idea that Clover is narratively important.

His badge is shown on-screen alone, before Clover’s hand appears and grabs it.

The screen then goes green except for Clover’s hand, and the following shot of all of the Ace-Ops establishes this green as Clover’s color.

Just as interesting is the proper shot of the Ace-Ops. Unlike episode 1, this shot opens with only Clover present at first.

He moves slightly before the other Ace-Ops fade in. It’s interesting to note that we’re shown Clover without the Ace-Ops, not the other way around. If CRWBY wanted to foreshadow episode 12, they could have just as easily had Clover appear after the other Ace-Ops. This would have shown the other Ace-Ops without Clover, instead of showing Clover on his own. The opening clearly singles Clover out, giving him a level of focus not shown with the other Ace-Ops.

This continues to be shown in episode 3, where Clover’s fighting abilities are shown off against the Geist.

We get a whole sequence of Clover jumping into the fight and taking action to separate the Geist from its body.

The sequence even warrants a shot of all four members of RWBY watching in awe as Kingfisher’s line wraps around the Geist’s mask.

When the Ace-Ops get their cut in, the shot starts with Clover before adding in all of the other Ace-Ops at once. For comparison, the RWBY shot (which happened only 10 seconds earlier in the episode) had Weiss and Yang appear on the outside before having Ruby and Blake appear in the middle. No team member appeared by themself, unlike with the Ace-Ops.

To say Clover was given the same significance as the other Ace-Ops is to ignore the repeated framing of Clover by himself instead of with the other Ace-Ops. He was always meant to stand out and be the Ace-Op we focused on.

Clover and the Military

Clover is also shown to operate on a totally different level of the military structure than the other Ace-Ops. While they were all trusted with Ironwood’s secrets, Clover is clearly higher up the chain of command.

He’s shown staying behind to discuss plans with Ironwood even when the rest of his team is dismissed,

he leads the briefings,

and he’s chosen to accompany Ironwood at the Schnee Dinner, alongside Winter and Penny.

Particularly interesting is a moment in Ep9. When Mantle is being swarmed with Grimm, Clover’s the first one to hear about it. Not Winter, not General Ironwood, Clover. Mantle’s at risk of collapse and Clover is being contacted before Ironwood is.

He’s then the one leading the charge to save Mantle, shown by him literally leading our heroes out of the dining room, with even Winter following him.

He’s also chosen to help fight Tyrian alongside Qrow and Robyn. Ironwood would want someone competent and trustworthy leading the charge against Tyrian, considering his current stress over Salem’s forces being present in his kingdom, and Clover fit that perfectly. 

Clover is one of the two most powerful people in the military outside of Ironwood, the general. Considering the strength of the Atlesian military, that’s by no means an insignificant role. He’s who soldiers are contacting in a time of crisis and he’s the one leading the charge to save Mantle. That doesn’t sound like the job of a “nobody.”

Clover and Qrow

I don’t think I need to explain why Qrow is an important character in the overall plot of RWBY. He’s one of Oz’s most trusted men and one of the strongest fighters in Remnant even without his magical abilities. He’s also someone who has been defined by his choice to push others away and be alone. Prior to volume 7, most of his interactions were with Ruby, his niece who has been shown to look up to him for most of her life, and many of his interactions outside of that weren’t exactly friendly. We’re shown that Qrow tends to be abrasive towards others, both because he doesn’t fully trust them and because he worries about putting them in danger due to his semblance. Ozpin even refers to it as a “fear of growing close to someone.” Yet suddenly, volume 7 starts and we see Qrow not only interacting with someone new, but also getting close to him in a way we haven’t seen with Qrow and any other characters. The volume after Qrow hit rock bottom, Qrow has his first healthy on-screen relationship outside of his nieces, with most of his screen time being dedicated to developing this relationship.

Volume 7 stressed Clover’s importance through his connection with Qrow even before they had a proper conversation. If you’ll remember from the start of this post, the first time we see Clover is from Qrow’s perspective.

Episode 3 is where RWBY begins to properly set up Clover as Qrow’s partner. We’re shown that the two of them have been paired off, working as a team of two while the other two teams consist of two Ace-Ops members and three to four younger huntsmen. Qrow’s first proper conversation with Clover has him commenting on how he’s not used to working with others again, as he’s been on his own for a while now, which Clover says is a shame. He then catches Qrow when he falls, showing that Qrow does benefit from having someone else alongside him in the field.

Lucky you, huh?

Qrow’s luck semblance has been special for a while now. It lacks the physical nature of most of the other semblances (ex: glyphs, speed, aura disruption) and hasn’t been explored much yet. And suddenly, here we have someone whose semblance is a perfect foil for Qrow’s. This could’ve easily been a point of contention, but we’re never shown anything suggesting that Qrow resents Clover for his semblance.

Clover’s semblance is especially important considering his line in the next episode: “Ace-Ops are hand-picked to perfectly complement each other.”

Elm can root herself in place, while Vine can propel himself using aura vines. Harriet has super speed, while Marrow can freeze enemies in their tracks. The Ace-Ops have opposite semblances and Clover has just worked with someone who has the opposite of his semblance.

It’s also worth noting that while Qrow is included in the frame while Clover says this, Qrow plays no role in this conversation. He’s just there to look at Clover while Clover talks about complementary partners.

They’re also shown to have complementary fighting styles, with Clover prioritizing disabling opponents over going in for the kill (also seen in the fight with the Geist, where he pulled it out of the ice so Harriet could kill it), while Qrow is the damage-dealer. Their fight against Tyrian has Clover twice wrap Kingfisher around Tyrian to let Qrow get a strong hit in.

Clover and Qrow are also complementary outside of their semblances and fighting styles, perfectly illustrated in the truck scene. Qrow is pessimistic and jaded, while Clover is optimistic and genuine. Clover helps convince Qrow to stop deflecting compliments and putting himself down and Qrow lets Clover have a chance to relax and make jokes instead of always acting the part of a cool, professional leader. It’s by far the healthiest relationship we’ve seen Qrow have with someone his own age. It also parallels Blake and Yang and Ren and Nora, two sets of partners (both in terms of battle and romance) made up of people with contrasting personalities.

Their eye colors are also the inverse of each other, a pattern seen again with Blake and Yang and Ren and Nora.

Throughout the volume, the focus on Qrow or Clover is often shown from behind the other’s shoulder, putting both of them in the frame. One example is in episode 7, in Ironwood’s office, where we’re shown Clover’s response to Ironwood from over Qrow’s shoulder, including how Clover briefly looks to Qrow during this. It’s also interesting to note that Clover’s response to Ironwood demanding the arrest of Robyn in this moment is to say “we’ll figure it out,” while looking at Qrow. A bit unusual for a military man who is supposed to always be following orders.

The end of episode 11 features the same framing, with Qrow being the focus this time. It’s important to remember why so many of us were caught off-guard by the start of episode 12 after seeing this moment; Clover had been separated from the other Ace-Ops to be placed with Qrow. It was a pattern we had seen all volume, emphasizing Clover’s relationship and partnership with Qrow over his other connections, so of course we all assumed he was set up to side with Qrow in this moment. Looking at what seemed to be foreshadowing regarding his role with the Ace-Ops and his partnership with Qrow, many of us thought he’d be leaving the Ace-Ops behind to join our main cast.

Orders vs Morality

Clover’s relationship with Qrow also played into the orders vs morality character arc he seemed set up for. Who better to convince a soldier to rebel than Qrow Branwen, notable hater of the Atlesian military?

Clover is never shown to be someone who follows orders without thinking for himself. In episode 2, he apologizes to team RWBY for arresting them, despite the charges against them having been accurate. He could’ve told them off for stealing a plane and using their weapons in a city without licenses, but he instead tried to make amends. In episode 5, he wishes Robyn luck in the election even after she almost had the Happy Huntresses attack the truck, only calling them off after Penny asked her to stop. There’s also his line in episode 7, which we’ve already discussed, alongside how he sees Robyn, who still has an arrest warrant out for her at this point, in episode 8 and makes no move to arrest her.

There’s also this look in episode 10, right after he receives orders to switch from fighting Grimm to joining Robyn in defeating Tyrian. We’re immediately shown him looking at the Grimm swarming the sky before telling Qrow that they need to hurry. He might be following orders and prioritizing Tyrian, but he’s also concerned about the attacking Grimm and wants to return to protecting civilians as soon as possible.

While episode 12 abandoned this set up, it would likely come back into play if Clover is revived in volume 8. In two volumes with a heavy focus on orders vs morality, RWBY has yet to use this arc and Clover remains the best candidate for it. The other Ace-Ops haven’t had enough focus to warrant a developed arc. Winter has been defined by her loyalty for Ironwood since volume 3. Penny was always loyal to the kingdom, not to Ironwood specifically. Her arc has been about making her own decisions, not about having to decide between following orders and doing the right thing. If RWBY wants to talk about trust and trusting love, having Clover come back and choose to trust Qrow, his partner, over following orders would be a perfect way to showcase these themes in a positive light.

Conclusion

In addition to being an important person in the Atlesian military structure, Clover was clearly framed in a way that told viewers to keep an eye on him. He spoke more than his four team members combined, he was shown to be the complementary partner to a character connected to RWBY’s main plot, and he was set up for an important character arc. Clover isn’t just another side character and if we’re lucky, we’ll get to see all of this setup pay off in volume 8 with a Clover revival.

[howlingmedic]

Coming Home: Chapter 4

Coming Home:

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Synopsis: what happens when the person who finally made their world make sense is taken from them? What happens when the people who were supposed find her can’t? Warnings: high key angst, fighting (lots), miscommunication (so much), references to blood, idiots in love who don’t know what to do with themselves, Tony trying to be supportive Relationship: Stucky x Angel!OFC A/N: Instead of doing any of the things I should have, I wrote the flashbacks for this chapter. It’s long. Very long. I’m sorry. I’m a disaster human who can’t cut down on content. Word Count: 5k (I’m sorry)

Chapter 4: Memories, Revelations, and Hope

Knowing, or at the very least being fairly sure, Allie was alive did not mean finding her was a cakewalk. It turned out it was her blood on the angel blade. That piece of news had left Bucky in bed for almost 24 hours straight and convinced him she couldn't be alive. It wasn’t until Steve coaxed him out to try praying again that he redoubled down on her being alive. Whenever there was that intangible feeling of her grace to cling to, things got a bit easier. Further analysis of the blood came back a couple of days after the initial confirmation of her DNA, and it divulged information that proved far more useful: the blood was fresh, no more than a week old. “Of course, the blade could have been transported there to throw us off, but given that we didn’t have any leads, that just doesn’t add up,” Sam explained over the phone when he finished reading off the report the lab tech had sent him.

Sam hadn’t even finished talking by the time Bucky was headed for his suit. Steve hastily thanked their friend and darted across the apartment to slow Bucky down. “I’m going after her, Stevie. 104 fuckin’ days. We’ve been without her 104 days, and we’ve almost killed each other god knows how many damned times. I’ve waited long enough. ‘M gonna rip that fuckin’ base apart,” Bucky growled before Steve even got the chance to say a word or reach out for him.

“I wasn’t going to say we don’t go for the base,” Steve fibbed and quickly changed track, “I just was going to say we do some more scans of it and the surrounding area. It’s pretty obvious we missed something, and these fuckers have proven they’re slippery bastards.” The last few words slipped into his Brooklyn accent that only comes out when he’s truly emotional about something - even when that emotion is hatred. Bucky’s eyes snapped up to meet Steve’s at the change in his voice, and his hands stilled in the bag he was rifling through.

“You’re afraid of these guys,” he stated. And wasn’t that the damned truth. Tactically, Steve’s plan was probably the better option as well. Less emotionally charged. More measured. That didn’t mean shit to Steve this time, though. Nothing about what they had done to this point had been in the name tactical soundness. There had been more than one instance of busting into bases and hideouts with no plan other than “find Allie.”

Steve nodded and shrugged before he could find the words to answer. “Well, yeah, Buck. I already lost her to them. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you too,” he finally said and closed the gap between them. “Will you let me ask Tony if he could do a fly-by? A few more scans? Maybe look for some subterranean spaces?” Steve asked hesitantly as he reached out to grasp Bucky’s wrist. Their eyes met again, and Bucky pulled back from Steve; in the process, the bag flew across the roomy and hit the opposite wall with a heavy thud.

“Are you seriously going to try to coddle me? Fucking protect me?” Bucky seethed and stomped off to grab the bag. His entire body radiated rage from the way his shoulders were set and locked to the purpose with which he walked.

It hit Steve like a truck that the only time he had seen that gait was when he faced the Soldier. He rolled his shoulders and squared them. If Bucky wanted to fight, fine. Steve wasn’t going to let him leave for a suicide mission that easily. “Yeah. I am gonna fucking protect you,” He retorted. Each word out of his mouth became a little more thickly laced in his Brooklyn drawl, and by the time he got through the sentence, he sounded like he had stepped back into the ’40s. This time Bucky didn’t flinch at it.

“How do you plan on keeping me here, Steve?” Bucky asked drily.

“I’m not above fightin’ ya. Not if it’ll keep ya safe,” Steve answered, temper rising and eyes narrowing.

Bucky started digging in the bag again, searching for something Steve couldn’t identify. “Since fucking when have you given a shit about safety?” And that sounded so much more like the old Bucky that it stunned Steve to silence for a split second. Usually, a reaction like that would’ve made Bucky laugh no matter how at each other’s throats they were. Tonight it just made him scoff and roll his eyes. “See, even you know you’ve never cared before.”

“That’s fucking absurd,” Steve spat, finally stepping closer while eyeing Bucky’s hands.

“Well, I can’t come up with a single other damned time you’ve stopped for safety when it was a choice between having someone you love back in your life and losing them!” He shouted, and Steve thought he might finally see where this was headed.

“What? Because I stopped fighting you? Is that what this is about? Huh, Buck? Is this about me choosing not to kill you on that damned helicarrier? Are we really going to drag this back up?” Steve shouted back, matching Bucky’s volume, and throwing his hands up in frustration.

“Yes! Damn it, Steve! What’s different? You started an entire fucking war and nearly let me fucking kill you to save me! What the fuck is different about me charging in there guns blazing?” Bucky yelled. Just then, his hands closed around something in the bag. He drew it out, and he let out an unsteady breath. Steve’s furious reply about growing up and actually having something to live for now died on his tongue. Bucky drew out a book Steve had only seen once before. It was one of Bucky’s most treasured possessions, one that was intensely private, one that was from before it had been the three of them - when it was just him and Allie.

The first thing Steve noticed when he looked up at the sound of footsteps slowing at his office was that Allie was humming a Christmas song under her breath. It was mid-September, and apparently she was already thinking about Christmas. Steve smiled and listened as she explained she wanted to do something special, something Bucky could cling to on the bad days when his memory wasn’t great, or he was stuck reliving the bad moments. Steve was about to counter her statement with the same line he usually used when she got stuck in her like this, “You being there is enough, Alex. He only needs you.” This time he was cut off before he got the chance. She needed Steve’s help, “to pull it off,” she had said with a smile that lit up the whole room. When he had asked what that meant, she had blushed an adorable shade of pink and suddenly resembled a child who was certain their parent was going to say no to their request. “I need you to falsify some mission reports, make it look like I’m out doing reconnaissance or something. Bucky can’t know why I’m gone, it’ll ruin the surprise,” she had explained while twirling her hair around her finger, and that was the day Steve learned the angel’s nervous habit, and he couldn’t help but smile.

“If you’re doing it for Buck, Alex, I’m not gonna say no, but I have to know where you’re going, and you’re not going alone,” he had answered cautiously with his brows furrowed in confusion.

“I won’t be leaving New York, at least not immediately… I just won’t exactly be reachable,” she had answered coyly, her fingering never ceasing its movement.

“Alex, cut the crap. What are you up to?” Steve asked firmly but warmly, and she went scarlet as her finger stilled, and she began to chew on her bottom lip.

“Well, I - uh,” she started and sighed. “I’m going back in time to collect a few things to put in a scrapbook. It’ll take a lot of grace, which is why I need to have the cover story of some missions, but I shouldn’t be in any real danger. Nobody had any angelic weapons on Earth back then, and I know exactly where to pop into to get like 98 percent of what I need.” When she started explaining, the words rushed from her as though she had been dying to tell somebody her plan, and by the time she stopped talking, her eyes were shining with excitement, and that dazzling smile was back on her face. Steve was powerless to say no.

The next time he had been involved with the book, Allie had shown up at his office with an exhausted smile stretched across her face and a few pieces of blank paper in her hand. “It’s all finished except for your letter,” She said from the doorway, and all Steve could do was nod. She had told him two weeks ago that she wanted a letter from everyone in The Tower for the book, notes to help remind Bucky that he really did have a family here, that he belonged. Steve was the last one left who hadn’t been able to produce something. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to write a letter; he just didn’t know what to say. How can you sum up a friendship that ran as deep as theirs? Steve rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms.

“Leave the paper here; I’ll text you when I’m done. Promise I’ll get it to you by morning,” he told her and glanced bleary-eyed at the clock. Two in the morning. He didn’t need sleep, and the reports could wait. That was the night he had fallen for the angel he could never have.

When Bucky showed Steve the book, Bucky and Allie were engaged, and Allie was in a coma. Or...they thought she was in a coma. Nobody was entirely sure if the daughter of an archangel could go into a coma, not even Loki. Bucky insisted she would pull through, but Steve had his doubts. Steve had been there when Allie tried to sacrifice herself to heal Bucky on the battlefield. He had been the one to pull Allie away from Bucky to stop her from doing just that. He had been the one to scream into the comms that he needed Loki. He had watched the God save them both. Finish what Allie had started with Bucky and somehow restore an angel who risked everything to save his best friend, and then he had sat in the MedBay with Bucky. Pouring over a book Allie had painstakingly assembled by hand and listening to Bucky as he recounted each memory stored in those pages, each way she had helped to hold him together, the ways she completed him. Steve’s heart broke, and yet he fell in love with both of them. One love that had always been there, and one that was new, and yet it wasn’t his to have. Until it was.

Steve’s mind hurdled back to the present, and he tried to shake off the last memory. It was a time he would always rather forget. He looked again at the book in front of him and realized it was different. The golden block lettering on the brown leather cover was an elegant, thin, silver script, and this one was less worn. It was new, brand new. That was the starkest contrast to the well-worn leather cover of Bucky’s book that had a permanent home next to Bucky’s leather chair in their living room at home.

“What - what’s that?” he asked lamely.

“Something that might just fuckin’ pull your head out of your ass,” Bucky groused and lobbed the book at him. Steve caught it effortlessly and flipped it open. It was similar, strikingly so, but not entirely the same as the one Bucky had at home. There were many of the same photos and ticket stubs filling the beginning pages. Then news clippings of the Howlies much like before, but interspersed were drawings Steve hadn’t seen in decades. Ones that had been “lost to time,” as the Smithsonian had put it. Steve faltered and swayed on the spot. She had done what she promised never to do again: gone back in time. She had risked everything for him to have these pieces of his past. The ones that were exclusively Steve. The intimate moments shared alone in his Captain’s tent with Bucky that he had captured and the dancing monkey drawing. She had saved all of them, and in doing so, she had kept them from the press. She had saved him again.

Steve’s legs started to buckle, and he less than gracefully got himself to the ground before falling. From his spot on the floor, he glanced up at Bucky, who had started to check his weapons. If the other man had seen him hit the ground, he didn’t let it show. Steve kept leafing forward. There were the notes from teammates and photos of the group, of him alone, of little moments spent with his family. Then there was a longer note. He stopped. He couldn’t. Not now. He couldn’t read her carefully chosen and delicately written words. The elegant swoop of her script danced across the page, and Steve snapped the book closed.

This wasn’t how he was supposed to given this gift, of that much he was sure. “How dare you,” he breathed from just behind his fiancé. “How fucking dare you?” He asked again when Bucky didn’t respond quickly enough. Steve’s fists were clenched at his side, and he was acutely aware of the fact that Bucky held a loaded pistol in his metal hand.

“I needed you to realize what she did just ta make ya smile,” Bucky snarled and spun around, discarding the weapon lazily. If this went to blows, it was going to be fists. “Needed you to know how much she fucking cares and see how absurd you sound asking for more scans!”

“Why? Why, Bucky? Because I want us to make it out of this alive?” Steve pleaded. He wasn’t even sure he was angry anymore. He was just frustrated and confused.

“Because she wouldn’t wait! She would fucking go in there without a second thought,” Bucky finally shouted and threw his hands in the air in frustration.

“Jesus,” Steve sighed and ran his hand through his hair, “that’s what’s got you this worked up?”

“Yeah, it bloody is,” Bucky growled as his anger started to mount again.

“Damn it, Buck! Listen to yourself!” He pushed a few weapons aside and sat on the table on which Bucky had placed the checked ones. “First of all, if we don’t make it, we can’t bring her home. She’s always reminding us we are still technically humans who can, in fact, die. Don’t do a whole lotta good to go rescue her if we ain’t there to help her recover, does it?” Steve asked but didn’t give him any time to answer. “And you think she could ever forgive herself if we got hurt or died trying to save her?” This time Steve paused and looked up at Bucky expectantly. The other man’s features had softened substantially, and he had the decency to look slightly bashful, finally.

“No,” he whispered and set the knife whose locking mechanism he had been inspecting down.

“Exactly. Besides, if we take the time to do some scans, we can organize the team. Tony has been working on isolating the energy signature of her grace from previous times she’s used it. He might be able to scan for her like you would for a heat signature.”

“Ok. Ok, fine,” Bucky huffed and shuffled away. Just like that, the anger was gone. The promise of backup, of not being alone anymore, was enough, and Steve let out of a silent sigh of relief.

Steve turned to go after him only to find him picking up the book. Every ounce of fear and heartbreak Bucky had weathered these past several months showed in his eyes when he stood back up. “Did you even read what she said, Steve?” Bucky asked tightly, the plates of his arm shifting anxiously.

“I couldn’t, babe. Not like this,” Steve admitted and came to stand in front of him. He didn’t reach out to him; he never was the first to initiate contact after a fight like this one. He would always let Bucky dictate the pace because he often needed longer to calm down, but Steve did take the book gingerly from Bucky’s hand and set it aside. “I’m guessing she was waiting for a special occasion to give it to me?”

“Yeah, your birthday,” Bucky answered quietly, his fear and frustration deflating into something more vulnerable, but Steve couldn’t place what. When his gaze finally met Steve’s properly, the pain written across every feature was enough to put a lump in Steve’s throat.

“Bucky… babe, what?” Steve asked disjointedly as his eyes darted to the book and then back to Bucky’s face.

“S’nothing that changes anything… just not sure, not sure she’ll be ready again,” Bucky mumbled and turned away, but Steve saw tears begin to well in his eyes.

“Doll? Whatcha mean ready?” he asked even though he thought he might know what Bucky had meant; he still needed to hear it.

It was a question she asked often and in many varied forms: “What do you see in our future?” It was usually asked under cover of darkness, with sweaty limbs tangled in sheets, and only the stars and city lights to illuminate the room. This time, however, it was asked in the Tony called them. Steve had a hunch they were only labeled safe houses because of how remote they were.

The latest mission went long, a month longer than anyone had anticipated, and Allie had proposed a vacation. Unsurprisingly, neither Steve nor Bucky protested. All three were a bit worse for wear, and Allie’s wings had suffered the brunt of an explosion. If a vacation would keep her from trying to get back in the field too early, Steve would take a vacation. Something sounded different in Allie’s voice when she asked what their futures might look like this time, though. She sounded less idly curious and like she was leading to something. Her gaze seemed far off as she took in the pool deck and the coastal view. Bucky’s hand that had been tracing up her bare thigh froze. Steve gave her a long considering look and cleared his throat to buy himself another moment to decide on an answer. He refused to jump to any conclusions. He and Bucky had concluded months ago that they wanted a family with her, but Allie said there were things she needed to handle first. Threats that had to be taken care of and people who needed to be behind bars, if not underground.

“Doll, why do you ask?” Steve asked with the utmost caution. He wouldn’t push it, not now. Not ever. No matter how much he wanted that life.

“I just… what if we got away from the fights? I’m so damned tired of fighting,” she grumbled and rolled so she was laying across their laps. “I don’t know about anything else, but I know I’m tired of fighting.”

That had been seven months ago. They hadn’t stopped fighting yet. Every time they talked about it, there was another group popping up who were threatening to end the world, or another alien invasion trying to enslave humanity. It never ended, and now Steve was holding his breath because here was Bucky implying he might have been free in a matter of weeks. The summer heat of the apartment suddenly melted away and left an icy chill in Steve’s chest where his heart should be.

Bucky turned back to face him, but he didn’t speak. He just stared at the book. When his gaze finally flitted back to Steve, the dam broke, and he started rambling. “She wanted to try… she was ready… and she wanted to tell you with something special, something that you could add memories to like I can do with mine. She put together one for the three of us too, but I left the others at home. I thought - I thought I would give you yours if we failed, so you would know how much she loved you. That there was no way in hell she gave up without fighting; so that we could look at the good times together, but I got so damn angry cause I knew what we should be going through together right now, and it ain’t this shit.”

There it was. The blow that sent Steve reeling. She had wanted to try. She had wanted to start a family. He should be painting a nursery, and instead, they’re squatting in a derelict building. He should be trying to figure what he can eat around her without making her sick, but instead, they’re stealing from the restaurant two doors down. This was all wrong. All fucking wrong. He stared unseeingly at Bucky. His eyes were glazed with tears, and yet none would fall. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move. He certainly couldn’t speak.

“Steve?” Bucky asked after several moments of utterly still silence, but no matter how hard Steve blinked to clear his eyes and look at Bucky, the tears wouldn’t budge. It took several more seconds for him to comprehend that his face was wet with them. Once that registered, a shuddering sob wrenched itself from somewhere deep in his soul, and he hit his knees. The contact with the ground stung, but he didn’t care. That didn’t matter. If anything, the pain was welcomed because it was the only thing that made sense. The life he had built with the only two people on this planet who could see beyond the walls he put up had crumbled in front of him. The future he had dreamed of had been within grasp, and then it had been snatched from him like every other good thing he ever had.

He couldn’t be sure how long he had wept when he felt Bucky’s metal hand close around his shoulder, heavy and cold. It grounded him back to the moment, and slowly his sobs subsided. “You with me?” Bucky breathed, and Steve hiccuped and nodded. “We can still have that life. It ain’t gone, promise,” Bucky continued, and Steve sat there numbly. “I went through this too when we first lost her, s’why I spent so much time meditating and alone. I had to grieve not only her but the life we were going to live, but Steve, we’ve got a lead. A real one. Yeah, we need to be a bit more measured than I was gonna be, but we’re on the brink of bringing her home.”

Something in what Bucky said clicked in Steve’s brain. He wasn’t sure what, but he knew Bucky was right. There was finally hope, and that was going to have to be enough for the moment. He took a shaky breath and finally faced Bucky. His cheeks tear-stained and puffy, his eyes red and swollen. Bucky smiled. The past two hours didn’t matter. “C’mere,” Steve rasped out, and Bucky moved to him immediately. They held each other as they had so many times. The extra weight it had seemed like Bucky was carrying made sense finally. Steve sighed and kissed Bucky for what felt like the first time in ages, and then he realized it didn’t just seem like the first time in ages; it was the first time in ages. He tilted his head and deepened the kiss, letting every ounce of remorse and love pour into it, communicating all the things he had failed to for so long. Steve’s hands found Bucky’s shoulders at the same time that Bucky’s flesh hand tangled into his hair, and the metal cupped his cheek.

When they separated, they both were panting and misty-eyed. “We gotta talk more,” Bucky told him as their breath leveled out. All Steve could do to answer was nod before his phone rang from somewhere across the apartment. There was a moment’s shared look -This can wait; we’re ok - before he got up to find the phone.

“Stark,” The screen read, and they shared a look of mingled dread and hope before answering. “Tony, whatcha got?” Steve asked without any preamble. Just like that, the fight, the revelation, and the kiss were all gone. Captain America replaced Steve Rogers, and it was time for work.

“I think I’ve got a distinct energy signature of Allie’s grace, or at the very least angelic grace. Now, Wilson told me about the angel blade and the blood and all of that, so I went ahead and did a bit of very fast flying and got Rhodey to do a bit of satellite maneuvering.” Stark paused for a just moment before his tone shifted from business to inquisitive, “Come to think of it, why hadn’t you called and asked for any of this? I usually can’t get anything done without you two breathing down my neck.”

Steve sighed and looked to Bucky, who just nodded. “We had some things to sort out. It’s been a long three months. For the love of God, Tony, please just tell us what you have, so we can get to work on our end.” “Alright, alright. Got it. Lover’s quarrel. Anywho! Given what Wilson found and the loose leads from Nat, we focused our search on the area where this all started and the surrounding town. Now, what’s the one thing we hadn’t searched for on that compound given that we had been inside it already?” Tony asked, and both Bucky and Steve groaned. Steve had to bat Bucky’s hand away from grabbing the phone. The moment made Steve grin. It was their typical banter, and it felt amazing. “We hadn’t looked for anything underground because there were no indications of a lower level,” Steve finally supplied when it was apparent Tony wasn’t going to proceed without their participation.

“Righto, Cap!” Tony quipped cheerfully, and they could hear the clatter of keys on the other end, “Well, we should’ve. There’s a whole network of underground tunnels and cells between the compound and the town. My guess is that’s how they got the drop on you before. Here’s where it gets good, though. I’ve got an energy signal down there that matches what we’ve identified as Allie’s,” Tony reported, but there was something off. It didn’t match Tony’s victorious, “I’ve solved the problem speeches.” Before Steve could open his mouth, Tony answered the unspoken question, “I’ve got to tell you two, it’s weaker than what I expected it to be. We almost missed it.”

The air had been sucked from the room. Steve was sure of it. His mouth had been glued together too, but he wasn’t sure how. Bucky grabbed the phone from him as he began to drop it. “What the fuck do you mean weak, Tony?” Bucky asked - no, growled - and it was the last thing Steve heard before he had to get up and start pacing to get control of his nerves. Suddenly, Tony’s voice filled the entire apartment, and Steve registered that Bucky had set the phone to speaker mode, so he could begin pacing too.

“What I mean is this energy signature is at a tenth of what it seems like she’s usually at when we start a mission. Now, this is all based on Friday’s previous biometric scans, so that reading could be faulty. Maybe we haven’t ever accurately clocked her energy before. Problem is we don’t have a ton of empirical data on these things, so it’s what we’ve got to go on.”

“And it’s not good,” Bucky added. He paused for a beat, looked at Steve, then stepped towards the phone, “Tell Fury I don’t give a damn about what else is going on. Assemble the team, tell Natasha I want her drawing up the plan. I need a full comm team back at the compound. Get medical standing by. Cap and I are going to be secondary on this. I don’t think either of us is fit to be leading it, but we sure as hell aren’t sitting it out.”

“You got it,” Tony answered, then paused for a beat and added, “but pull me off speaker for a second.” Steve waved Bucky some sort of a “go ahead” gesture and stepped away to finish checking their weapons. He didn’t care what Tony would say or ask. It didn’t really matter. There were a few moments of silence before Steve started to catch the snippets of Bucky’s end of the conversation, “Jesus Christ, Tony, no. We are not okay, but we’re doing alright… Yeah, sure, we’ll go to a fucking shrink. You think I don't already have about 19 em at home?... Yeah, yeah, fuck off. Go get everyone on a damn jet… alright, thanks.”

Bucky came up behind Steve and kissed the back of his neck, and Steve leaned back into him. “Tony being Tony?” he asked softly, which earned him an undignified snort and a nod from Bucky.

“He’s checking up on ya. Can’t say I blame him after you disappeared on the call. Gonna be alright?” “Cap will be just fine to get through this. Let’s deal with the rest together and one day at a time,” Steve answered firmly. He knew the distinction between himself as Steve and Captain America wouldn’t be lost on Bucky, but there would be time to handle that afterward. As gently as possible, he extricated himself from Bucky’s hold and went to the closet to pull out their uniforms.

Their uniforms were the only things that ever got hung up in the places they squatted. It was the easiest way to store them, and it made them infinitely simpler to get on in a hurry. The star on the front of his looked nearly alien to Steve when he pulled it out of the closet. These days he associated so little with the man who had worn it proudly for years. The thought of serving a world that had utterly wrecked the one slice of peace he managed to have for himself made him want to recoil from the suit entirely, but, with a heavy sigh, he pulled both of the suits from the closet before neatly laying them on the bed.

He wasn’t doing this for the world, though.  His hand had moved before his mind made the conscious decision to do so. One moment the star was front and center on the stealth suit in front of him. The next, it was in his hand. He wouldn’t do this as Captain America, even if it was easier. It might even be the safer option, but he didn’t care about that. This was Steve Rogers getting his girl back.

[caribouwritings]

Sub-Zero

           I was only three when my older brother Eddie died. He had a brain tumor; he died a couple weeks after my birthday and a couple weeks before his.

          He did just as he told our mom when he said, “I stay four.”

          On June 27th, my big brother was gone at age four.

***

           My parents tried to give me a happy life. They gave me privileges that some kids are not as lucky enough to have (such as a vacation almost every year). Despite what the therapist had said when the event happened, I was damaged and it was only a matter of time before it would all show in forms that got glossed over repeatedly.

I didn’t just lose my brother, I lost my best friend, my protector, my guide… I lost my Eddie.

           Although I can now say it and not think much of it, I still cry at the thought I was cheated out of a big brother to teach me the ropes and take my hand when I was scared.

           Senior year of high school was the hardest. I was graduating (on that day fifteen years later) and my brother did not even make it to kindergarten, which he was so excited for because he’d get to ride a bus; His favorite thing in life besides me, our family, Scooby-Doo, and Donald Duck was anything with an engine.

           I outlived my brother who knew what he wanted (it could’ve changed in time, but it would still involve cars and trucks), and I had panicked. I believed people when they told me I would be a great English teacher. I wanted to be a writer, but everyone kept saying I am a teacher at heart. There was just a couple teeny tiny (major) problems:  I hate school (and still do), I am very selective with what I choose to read, and I don’t talk unless I want to or need to.

            Kudos to those who teach, but I’d rather not go back. School for me was where I had my individuality constantly beaten out of me, I was bullied by other students for who I was, have been accused and associated with things I am not, and my mental health got worse.

           However, being non-confrontational, I just nodded my head and let myself be pushed to a major I did not want and watched as I slowly went downhill, and crossed paths with someone a little bit before graduation who is just like me… sort of.

           I was looking for some new games to play that are like Street Fighter II. While watching a Top Ten Best Fighting Games of All Time video on YouTube, the channel (Watchmojo) ranked a video game called Mortal Kombat (2011) at number two, right next to Street Fighter II which placed number one. When I saw the game on clearance at Walmart, I put it in the cart with the plan to take over the unused Xbox 360 in the living room bought by my parents’ for the Kinect feature. My mom did not care anymore, she was just grateful that the expensive gaming system collecting dust under the TV stand was finally being used.

           I played through several kombatants (yes, with a ‘K’, most ‘C’ starting words are replaced with a ‘K’) in the Ladder Fights and Test Your Luck challenges for hours enjoying the blood and gruesome moves.

            I oddly kept finding myself drawn to Sub-Zero, the blue ice assassin (don’t call them ninjas, they find it highly insulting). I didn’t know why though; I couldn’t figure out why I thought the man with ice powers was intriguing. Curious by nature, I did what I do with everything else I found fascinating, I dug for all the information I could find. It didn’t matter how useless and random, I wanted to know everything about the world of Mortal Kombat, and I now know a huge chunk of it.

           Sub-Zero’s real name is Kuai Liang, and he was originally called Tundra. He is the younger brother of Bi-Han, the first Sub-Zero in the series, and Kuai Liang took the name Sub-Zero after his brother’s death to honor him. That was the only similarity I thought we had, but I was so wrong… I was so wrong.

           Mortal Kombat is super violent. The two ice powered brothers are best known for a fatality where they rip the head and spine out of their enemy opponent, both parts still attached together like a twisted party trick (and this is also the main origin to the ERSP rating system in video games). I am not even strong enough to lift a twenty pound puppy without nearly dropping the stubborn Shepard Labrador mix back on the ground with a thump. Plus there’s the other stuff on the surface:  blonde Caucasian female with an olive shade of green eyes, a bubbly persona and pink girly appearance, versus a dark haired Chinese American male with icy blue eyes, a cold persona and super violent history.

           “He is just a video game character, he is not real. You don’t need to care this much for this fictional character.”

           I know that. Kuai Liang is not real, but his story is real to me.

           Kuai Liang went through hell. Everything bad that could have happened, did happen to him. He lost his brother when Scorpion—the wraith of the NetherRealm (and the franchise’s fan favorite character)—killed him in retaliation for killing the whole Shirai Ryu clan, his kind-hearted wife, and innocent baby boy (spoiler alert, it wasn’t Bi-Han at all! Scorpion was tricked into killing an innocent man!). Wanting to avenge his brother’s death, and avoid the Lin Kuei’s new cyber-initiative their Grandmaster was keen on, Kuai Liang and his best friend, Smoke, ran away to find the answers to what happened to Bi-Han. Right when our new Sub-Zero nearly has his revenge and is to kill Scorpion, he is stopped and surrounded by members of his former clan who have been converted from human to cyborg; despite the robotic outsides and still human insides, they are brainwashed to obey like full-fledged robots. He is taken back to the clan and suffers the same fate of being turned into a cyborg and is renamed LK-520, then sent after Smoke who managed to get away. Lucky for both of them, cyber-Sub-Zero is knocked unconscious and Smoke gets help from his new allies to reset Kuai Liang, but although he gets his control back, he is now stuck as a mashup of man and machine. Until (in a rushed scene of the game) he is killed and his soul is sent to the Netherrealm where he is rebuilt from what is left of his remaining bits of human organs and bone inside his robotic shell. Although human again, he is now under the mind control of the sorcerer, Quan Chi (spoiler alert! He’s the real person behind Scorpion’s suffering!), and is now working alongside both the man who framed his brother and the man who murdered his brother, along with several of his new allies that died as well. In the tenth game, he is freed from Quan Chi’s control by being in the right place at the right time (and by also being a fan favorite character too).

           That should be the end of it, but it’s not. This is right before I realized how perfectly Kuai Liang’s life parallels mine. This is before I read the comics.  

           Like I said, I get invested in stories to the point I want to find out everything I can. When I found all three volumes of the comic series on Amazon, I couldn’t resist and I bought all three.

           When UPS came to deliver the package, I brought it straight to my room plopping the brown cardboard box on my bed, and cut the tape open with a pink mechanical pencil. I didn’t care for the other two books I bought (except enough to hide the one I bought for my little sister’s birthday in the closet) because there they were. Volumes one, two, and three were at the bottom of the box under giant green bags of air that are satisfying to stomp on and give unsuspecting siblings heart attacks, but that was unimportant in this moment. I took the three volume books out and spread them on my bed, and dived right into the unknown; into the rebuild of the Shirai Ryu, the second generation of klassic characters, and what happened to those who lived or were brought back like Sub-Zero.

           Sub-Zero, at this point, was my favorite character. In volume two, however, there was a shift in my view of him. In that shift, he became my number one favorite character ever and sealed his place into that spot permanently.

           Kuai Liang had become possessed by a cursed dagger in the previous volume, and it continued into volume two. Scorpion (he is a good guy now… sort of) and his apprentice, Takeda, go after him and get the dangerous dagger back, but the curse makes it hard for Scorpion to reason with Kuai Liang. Scorpion becomes frustrated and the two fight to what they believe to be the death, until Takeda manages to get the dagger away. Kuai Liang exhausts out all the remaining evil within him, and then is left standing there perplexed by why he is there and what is going on. It doesn’t matter to Scorpion though, he still beats the bewildered young Sub-Zero to a bloody pulp and leaves him to die.

           Kuai Liang rethinks his life as he lays their bleeding out, so when Bo’ Rai Cho (ew, trust me on this one, just ew) comes to him to help him get back on his feet, he asks him, “you haven’t figured out what all these events mean? Why I’m here?”

           Kuai Liang’s answer is, “I must commit hara kiri…”

           There. There it is. Right there. That is the line that made me see I am more like Sub-Zero than I thought I was.

           We lost our older brothers, we lost our individuality, we were beaten, we were bullied, we were brainwashed, we took orders, we went down wrong paths, we battled the world, we battled ourselves, and we took so much of a beaten that we laid in our own blood, sweat, and tears thinking “I must commit hara kiri…”

           What is hara kiri? To simplify, it is suicide.

           I remember putting the comic down on my stuff animal infested bed and staring at the lavender colored walls, looking at the big picture. Sub-Zero is a strong warrior with ice powers, and he hit rock bottom. He may be physically stronger than me, but he is just as broken and weak as me on the inside. He put up a shield, hiding behind his anger just like I hid behind my smile.

           I picked up the comic again, and skipped frantically through the pages of volume three just to get to Kuai Liang and find the answers. What did he do and how did he survive to be in the next game?

           It is complicated and complex, but the answer is different based on how you interpret his story. I obviously interpreted it well, because I am here. I am okay.

[morethanaprincess-a]

@cadcnce​ said: "If only I could tell you everything, the little things you'll never dare to ask me."

Unprompted IC asks: Accepting from mutuals

He must have thought she wasn’t listening, her nose buried in a novel, the next in a series she’d begun ages ago and had patiently waited for the next volume to be released. But Sonia always did: it was first out of habit as a young girl, to understand the mysteries of what adults purposely kept from her. In order to preserve the princess’s good heart, or something like that, had been the reason. Something truly out of a fairytale that now, as an adult, made her wince slightly.

But presently, it was automatic. To make sure she was hardly ever caught off-guard, that she was always prepared and level-headed for any situation that befell her. And Sonia had felt rather confident in that, managing her life and her emotions where each suited her. Now more than ever, she was a full-time princess and, under most circumstances, was expected to behave as such (despite her perchance to say fuck it all and let off steam where she could. She needed to be better about that).

Until Wylan crossed her path. No, he hadn’t just crossed it, he blew through it like a hurricane.

She’d experienced two or three of them (depending on what one would label as a ‘severe storm’) in her lifetime, since she’d been living and attending school in Japan. In those instances, she’d known they were coming and alongside her friends, prepared for the potential damage the weather could cause but still had excitement bubbling up within her all the same. Anticipated chaos, as the winds blew through and tore down trees and rubbish bins and power lines. And when it was all over, she’d stepped outside into the bright sun, in the wake of the destruction, and smile. She’d planned and persevered and enjoyed herself all the same.

Wylan was the type of destructive storm she didn’t plan for. She couldn’t, when she’d been so entirely sure of herself that he was the last sort of person who would ever seek out her company. If she’d met him now, she would’ve been sure that he’d prefer someone vivacious, adventuresome and flirty and able to act on a whim. Who would be a constant tease and purveyor of jokes, without a care in the world to consider or, worse, to force upon him.

Someone who was very much not Sonia Nevermind. For all of her sense of wonder and desire to experience everything, there were always rules, traditions and expectations, that held her back. They formed the cage, she supposed, that gave her the nickname he’d chosen for her: bluebird. 

All that was left was to collect herself in his wake, to try and figure out what the hell was going on before the next whirlwind hit: the next jab, the next tease, the next suggestion of visiting a food truck or escaping somewhere that each time brought her joy and confusion in equal amounts.

Sonia closed her book with a small sigh, fixating her blue eyes upon his face with a smile.

“Then what’s stopping you?” She asked plainly, lightly and gentle in her efforts to create a trusting atmosphere. “Unless you are waiting for me to ask the right questions. I may need a little assistance in that regard, if I’ve yet to uncover them.”

[plagueofchaos]

Lester Sinclair - Low Lights

There isn’t enough Lester Sinclair love in my opinion so I’m dishing out something from my private collection of fics. It’s soft. It’s sweet. Just some SFW fluff that’s actually one of three parts, but they’re nsfw and IDK how this one is going to go over. I hope you enjoy <3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Lessy, I’m home!” You chirped struggling with the paper bags full of groceries. “They had that banana pudding ice cream you like!” When he didn’t answer you a pang of concern struck your gut. It was weird for him not to want to go to the store with you, weirder that he wasn’t waiting outside to help you with the bags, and now things were disturbing he didn’t seem to be home at all. You’d driven his truck, it’s not like he could have gone anywhere. 

You jumped when the radio in the bedroom suddenly blared to life, the sound of a guitar raked against your eardrums “Ah, shit!” You saw Lester’s hands fumble with the volume nob turning it up before he managed to turn it down. “Les?” “Baby, lock the door and turn the lights down low. Put some music on that’s soft and slow,” He appeared in the doorway giving his best rendition of Bo’s signature lean. “‘Ey there,” He paused for a second trying to scramble up a nickname for you since he normally just called you by your name. “Punkin’!” 

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “Hey? I got your ice cream.” His eyes lit up. “You did?!” For a second he forgot about his plan and went to help you, but stopped himself. “That’s real kind of ya…” He glanced down. “Sweetpea.” “Mhmm.” You gave him an incredulous look. What was the little man up to? He bit his lip starting to sway to the music while clearly trying to not grin like the goober he was. “I best be payin’ back that sugar.” 

He began unbuttoning his shirt slowly. “Dagnabbit…” He accidentally popped a button but he got them all and let his shirt fall down to his elbows before starting to dance again. “There’s no hurry. Don’t you worry. We can take our time.” Lester gave you a wink then gave you a toothy grin. He’d brushed his teeth. You looked him over and realized he was clean, his hair was still damp. Oh. Suddenly his actions seemed yards less silly and more titillating. Usually he was too shy to even initiate a kiss. What was going on?

He bit his bottom lip shimming his shirt off and tossing it aside. He’d put on suspenders instead of opting for his usual alligator skin belt. Les wiggled his eyebrows at you giving them a pop against his chest. You felt the bag slip from your grip slightly. “Les, I-” You found yourself unable to finish your sentence because he’d began gyrating his hips. Your face starts burning as your eyes lock on his pelvis. “Ain't nobody ever love nobody the way that I love you. We're alone now you don't know how long I've wanted to lock the door and turn the lights down low.” 

Lester ran his hands up his thighs to the hem of his stained undershirt slowly gathering it up revealing inch by inch his usually hidden pale skin. You’d never seen him shirtless before. All you two had ever done was kiss before Les would clam up and shut down. He pulled the ratty sleeveless thing off and toss it with the other. He was actually impressively well toned, but then again his job had him heavy lifting most of the day. You were staring at his pale stomach when you saw his hands snaking down to slip his thumbs behind the suspenders, running them up and down a few times while swaying his hips back and forth. 

You were in such a state of shock that your shy little Sinclair was being so risque you barely noticed him inching closer to you with every movement of those ungodly hips. 

The moment he flicked one those suspenders loose like it wasn’t a thing the groceries hit the floor. Something broke, you didn’t care what. “Lester.” You gasped your hands coming up to your mouth. He was hot. Why was he so hot? Gosh, he was...wow. Your brain wasn’t working quite right at this point.

 “Easy there, honey bun,” He cooed beaming with pride he’d gotten you so flustered. He popped the clasp open on the other suspender and wiggled his tanned shoulders so both of them would fall to his sides. “We ain’t even in the thick of it yet.” You weren’t one hundred on if you could even walk at the moment. “I've been thinking about this all day long, never felt a feeling that was quite this strong. I can't believe how much it turns me on just to be your man. I can't believe how much it turns me on just to be your man.” His pants hit the floor the moment he let go of them revealing his new boxer briefs, they were a soft green with little smiling frogs and tiny pink water lilies on them. . He’d not really meant for that to happen, but he covered it up  like a champion not letting his insecurity get the best of him in order to make this night real special for some reason while kicking his legs free. “I-I got another surprise waitin’ on ya. Right on back here, I-” He took a deep breath looking back to you from the bedroom. “Oh, ain’t no rush. Come ‘ere.” 

You didn’t react right away so he brought his hands up and beckoned you to him. “‘Mere, punkin.” You did as he bade after your brain clicked into gear. “There they are.” Lester purred as you stumbled into his arms. “You sure feel nice.” He smelled so good, some special soap he must have bought. Your eyes rolled back a little as he pressed sweet wet kisses into your chest and neck. “What’s gotten into you?” You couldn’t help, but ask feeling his arms wrap around your hips. 

“Don’t like it?” Les asked pulling back with a hint of fear in his voice. “No, no! I love it.” You assured getting that sweet smile back nice and quick. “You’ve just never...been like this.” “Well, tonight’s special.” “I-It is?” Lester tsk’ed then grinned taking your hand in his. “Come on now,” He led you back to the bedroom where to your shock and awe he’d cleaned. All his little projects were hidden away somewhere and at least thirty candles all burned at once and the few scented ones gave the room that usually reaked of death and bile the sweet scent of apple pie. 

He’d even gone out to the crab apple tree and collected hundreds of little blooms to litter the room and bed with. “Happy one month anniversary.” Lester whispered excitedly bouncing on his toes. “I know it’s a bit silly since it’s only been one cottonpickin’ month, but I ain’t never had someone stay with me this long and I...well ya mean the world to me. I just wanted to show ya how special ya are to me…” 

Sweet happy tears bit at your eyes while you took it in. “This is beautiful, Les.” He pulled you in close. “I think I might love you.” was all he said before pressing his lips to yours for a soft deep kiss.

[just-another-romantic]

How to Date a Broken God - Chapter Two

Chapter Two: Honest Apologies and a Sparring Match

Series Summary: After too many years of pain, a mortal teaches a god how to feel again. Maybe she can learn from him.

Warnings: ngl (Y/n)’s just rude in this one, language, sad Loki, fighting

That night, Loki threw up. After (Y/n)’s confession, the god quickly excused himself from the room, and barely made it to his bathroom before puking up everything he had within the past century. He hadn’t been ill since he was a child, and here he was: knelt over on the cold tile, head in the toilet bowl and clammy hands holding on for dear life.

Last time he had been ill like this, his mother had scooped him up in her arms - despite his protests - and tucked him into her bed, pulling the silk blanket up to his chin. He tried to recall how her hands stroked his hair in comfort as he pushed a stray lock from his face.

He was sick at himself. The once vain god now looked in the mirror and hated the face that stared back at him. He hated his heritage, Odin’s lies and abuse that lasted centuries, and he hated the spiral the truth threw him into once it was unveiled. He hated Thanos with his mind control, that he was weak enough to fall into it - costing thousands of innocent lives, including that poor girl’s parents.

Loki let out an audible groan of anguish, his head dropping lay on his land clutched to the toilet bowl. He hated her...well, not exactly. He hated how his heart twisted at the mere mention of her name. How his heart burst at the melody of her voice or, Odin forbid, her laugh. How she was not a normal mortal, that she stood her ground and held a knife to his neck the second he dared test her. He hated that in every aspect, (Y/n) was what Loki wanted in a lover.

She could never love you, he remembered. You’re a murderer, a cold-blooded killer. A monster, like the world...like your own father and brother think of you. Who would ever want to hold your crimson-stained hands?

Shakily, the unbreakable god stood up from the bathroom floor, quick to splash water in his face in attempt to refresh himself. He looked into the mirror and a monster looked back at him. If asked, he would deny it, but that night Loki fell asleep with tears running down his cheeks.

The morning wasn’t any better. An awkward heavy air still lingered above the Avenger’s heads, leftover from last night. Loki entered the kitchen nook of the floor around seven, grey sweatpants hanging dangerously low on his hips and maroon t-shirt contrasting against his pale complexion. The golden rays of the still-rising sun fled into the room, enveloping the god in what one could only describe as a halo. Of course, Loki was tired and disoriented from sleep; the only thing he felt like was disheveled. No one noticed the beauty of the waking deity, no one except (Y/n), who promptly choked on her hot coffee.

Bucky was laid out on the sofa, the morning news drowning out his soft snores. James Rhodes sat at the dining table, a book in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. Sat on the ground by the television, Peter started on a new Lego set of the Avengers Tower, mumbling about the minor mistakes there were in the tiny architecture. Loki was worried he’d convince Pepper to sue the company.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Sam called from the barstool, cup of coffee in hand. His eyes traveled from Loki, to Wanda and the pans of scrambled and fried eggs and the pot of boiled eggs, then the pile of bacon next to her. “I hope you like eggs. Don’t really know what you guys eat on different planets.”

Loki stifled a yawn. “I’ll get myself a bagel. But, Birdbrain, yes, we have eggs on Asgard. I just don't eat them.”

“Oh my god is he vegan?” came Peter’s small voice.

Loki chose not to respond to that question and only walked into the kitchen in search of the toasters. He found them pretty quickly, (Y/n)’s small form serving as a landmark. She looked snug and smug, giving Loki the once over as she sipped her coffee, her feet dangling from where she sat on the counter. She looked innocent enough, cozy and clad in sweatpants and an oversized Star Wars shirt, and though she was barefooted, Loki had no doubt she was hiding another dagger somewhere.

“Good morning,” she chirped sweetly. “Don’t worry, I don’t have another dagger on me.”

Well, there’s one question answered. He gave her a smile in greeting. There was a bit of a pause before she raised her eyebrows as in ‘Aren’t you getting something?’ to which Loki quickly grabbed the bagels from the breadbasket.

After putting the two slices into the rack, he found himself suddenly interested in his cuticles, while it had been a bad habit he picked up when he was only a child- that constantly got him ratted out by his mother for it. The once suave god that had women falling at his feet lost his tongue in the presence of a mortal girl. “(Y/n)-”he began, before getting cut off.

“Don’t. I know what you’re gonna say.” He gave her an inquisitive look, to which she only rolled her eyes. “The air’s still heavy from last night.”

Loki felt his cheeks heat up. “(Y/n)...I give you my sincerest apology. And I’m well aware that a simple ‘I’m sorry’ isn’t even close enough to covering it.”

She shrugged. “I loved them. Still do, with every ounce of myself. My parent’s were my best friends. But you know what they always taught me?” Her burning stare locked with his. “That there’s two sides to every story, and even the monster thinks he’s the hero.”

Her voiced echoed monster in his ears and left an impact in his gut. “I’m sorry darling but I’m not seeing your stance on this...are you offering forgiveness?” His mouth dried up and he found himself unable to speak more than one sentence. He couldn’t even think.

(Y/n) scoffed, swinging down from her perch on the marble. “Oh no. Not even close.” She stepped uncomfortably close and Loki was intimidated, though she barely came up to his nose. “No. I hate you,” she seethed.

His stomach rolled in his belly at the venom in her voice, the words she spewed stinging like hellfire. 

“But I will never wish you bad intentions. Like they always say, ‘keep your friends close but your enemies closer’.” She flashed him an innocent smile, the façade immediately building back up. “We’re teammates, we have to at least tolerate each other.” Tolerate. Enemy. “And for the record, don’t call me ‘darling’, darling.”

Loki gulped, feeling as though his throat had filled with cement, stepped down from his stance with her, and quickly grabbed his food before retreating to his room without another word.

Throughout the entirety of (Y/n)’s accusations, the newest Agent's voice had grown tremendously in volume, drawing the attention of the rest of the room’s occupants. There was a sweet moment of silence and (Y/n) turned to enjoy her coffee in peace, but Sam was too blunt for a Saturday morning.

“Don’t you think that was a bit...I dunno...harsh?”

“If it was, I don’t care.”

“You should,” said Bucky from the coach, his face stony and serious. “It’s how the whole Civil War ordeal started.”

“That’s completely different,” she snapped. “They had their reasons, Stark was being ignorant to the truth, as always it seems-”

Coronel Rhodes’ voice boomed through the kitchen, “Hey!”

(Y/n)’s head turned as the silence fell over the room. Rhodey’s eyes narrowed in on her. “I suggest you watch yourself, little lady,” he said. “You are the new comer, you have absolutely no right to waltz in and talk bad about the man who saved the universe, saving your ass as well.”

“Loki killed my mother in cold blood! My brother! My sisters and my father! And I had to watch!”

“Stark’s weapons killed my family, sweets,” spoke Wanda, seemingly appearing out of thin air. Her slender fingers interwove with the agent’s own, soothing and warm. “And I forgave him. In a matter of weeks.”

“He had no control of who used his weapons, Wandie.”

“I killed his parents,” mentioned Bucky. “He forgave me.”

“You were brainwashed!”

Rhodey leaned against the counter, arms crossing and face stern. “Loki was too.”

Agent (Y/L/n) felt her heart drop at a sickening speed. “He was...what?”

“It was all a part of Thano’s mastermind plan or some bullshit,” explained the Falcon. “He sent people to collect all of the infinity stones, but that ended up going south and he took it into his own hands. One of them being Loki.” Sam’s brown eyes fell to the ground in a silence, and the extremity of the situation hit the girl like a truck. “He found him, floating out there in the depths of the universe, took him, and convinced him to go on a killing spree. Basically.”

(Y/n)’s mind was going a million miles an hour and everyone in the room could practically see the wheels turning in her head. All the blame, all of the hurt, she had cast onto the wrong man. Her voice was shaky and breaking, “So...my parent’s death was - was that raisin’s doing?”

“Thanos killed millions before the Blip,” said Bucky gently.

Tears pricked at her eyes. “Jesus, I really am an asshole, aren’t I?”

Rhodey laughed, clapping a hand on her shoulder. “You have a few things to learn before we put you on the field, that’s for sure. Gotta control those anger issues, but I think we can whip you into shape pretty quick.

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

And boy, did they whip her alright.

Hesitantly, (Y/n) agreed to beginning her training early on Sunday, instead of waiting for the work week to start. First, it was a three-mile run with Sam and Bucky around the compound at the crack of dawn, nothing she hadn’t done before or couldn’t handle. After breakfast, there was weights with Rhodey, then yoga with Wanda. Thankfully, she caught a break with Banner in the lab in between sessions, talking about the design of her new suit and how the tech that she didn’t understand would work. Now, she laid flat on her back, thrown for the fifth time in a round of sparring with Bucky.

“C’mon doll,” he taunted in his Brooklyn drawl, “get your butt up. Or do you need help? Do I need to phone 911?”

“For an old man, you sure do know how to talk shit, Granny.”

His black brow quirked in amusement. “That was the best you could come up with?”

Shakily, the agent denied the hand he offered and pushed herself up again, resuming the fighting stance. “I’ll work on it.”

The brunette supersoldier smiled at her, wiping the minimal sweat off himself with a towel. “Don’t worry, doll. I’m giving ya someone that’s more so your size this round.” He called off behind his shoulder and low and behold, Loki took his place on the mat, looking unpleased.

The first thing he said was the simple, “I didn’t sign up for this.”

“I doubt you would,” she replied, masking her nerves with a stern voice. She shot a glare at Bucky, who sat off to the side with a grin that could beat the Chesire Cat’s. “’I’m pairing you with someone more your size,’ he said! ‘It’ll be fun,’ he said! Bullshit, Buchanan!”

“He’s your size!”

“He’s a god!” (Y/n) looked the mischief maker up and down. He was scrawnier than his blond brother, but his stance and build clearly stated he’d be a difficult opponent. He stood a good half-a-foot above her head, and she doubted her own strength could outmatch his.

“If you haven’t noticed,” Barnes began matter-of-factly, “Loki isn’t built the same as Thor. He’s less jacked and smaller.” Loki’s muttering was heard but disregarded. “However, he’s still one of the strongest of the universe.”

“Then why the hell are you putting me with him if he could squash me between his fingers? I’m human.”

“Yesterday morning, you seemed to be out for his blood, I’m giving you what you wanted.”

Heated shame crept up (Y/n)’s chest and face and Loki’s smirk rendered her speechless.

Bucky ignored her redness, continuing, “He uses his brain, his cunning, his agility, and his speed. Along with his magic, he become’s a dealy combination. You could learn a lot from him, which is exactly why I’m pairing you with him. But for a fair fight, no magic.”

“You’re no fun, Sargent,” the god complained.

“Unless (Y/n) has a trick up her sleeve, no magic.”

Loki looked at her with hopeful eyes, to which she only shrugged. “I only know party tricks. Sorry.”

The mix-matched pair stepped onto the mat, both hesitant. The moment Bucky’s voice rang “Start!” throughout the room, (Y/n) swung a punch, that was quickly deflected and brought behind her back. His body pressed against hers, heat and electricity in-between the two bodies. The agent writhed, brining her elbow hard into this side, then looping her legs around his own.

“That’s it, (Y/n)!” Bucky praised, and (Y/n)’s face flushed under the compliment and the god’s mighty stare. The applause fueling her, she had Loki down a moment later, sitting on his upper thighs, her own straddling his waist. His arms were pinned helplessly against the floor; she smirked.

Loki’s eyes were blown wide, breath heavy, but he smiled back. “You okay there, Silvertongue?” (Y/n) cooed sweetly. She had won.

“Loki,” Bucky called from behind the ropes, “quit holding back!” and the agent’s blood ran cold.

Instantly, her back slapped against the mat, the positions now reversed. Pinned, despite how hard she struggled and fought against his strength. Loki’s eyes locked with hers and her breath caught in the base of her throat, mouth running dry. 

“Never better, petal,” the god answered, whisper of breath crossing her face. The heat left her body as he got up, grabbed his duffle bag, and exited the gym.

(Y/n) sat on the floor, heaving and images of the bluest eyes flashing through her mind. 

AUTHORS NOTE

Holy shit. The first month of 2020 has been kicking my ass. Lord help us all. I’m so sorry for the wait, guys. I hope I can make it up to yall.

TAGLIST

@cosmic-souls-and-stardust @rinthehufflepuff @electroma89 @madshelily @ultracolorfulnerdcollection @acf2510 @daddylouislittle @fanartdom @iam-a-painted-whore 

[flawlesspeasant]

Are you the author who wrote a fic about Jo and Alex sleeping together when they were still just beer buddies? I think that was you & it’s my all time fave fic. Can you repost?

When they are only friends and drinking buddies, Alex and Jo make a huge mistake and are forced to talk about it the morning after.

{if I remember correctly, there is a little bit of smut in this fic, so reader discretion is advised.}

                                     —————

Inside the house, it was quiet. The ceiling fan overhead was perfectly still, and the analog clock that hung above the end table didn't tick, as it was deadened due to lifeless batteries. It was the kind of quiet that only happened in movies. The moment before the dramatic music started and whatever conflict was resolved, it was the moment before everything changed. In fact, the entire scene seemed to have been snapped and stolen straight from a movie that was supposed to play on the silver screen.

It was quaint and so quiet that the only audible noise throughout the entire house came from the sputtering of the motor that kept the refrigerator cold in the kitchen. The silence was deafening; a complete contradiction to the laughs, playful banter and eventual ecstatic moans that ravaged the house just the night before.

The world outside beyond the four walls of the house went on as usual for a typical Saturday morning. A large green garbage truck roared when it drove down the street, screeched when the driver stepped on the brakes. Birds flew in casual circles and chirped to signal that it was well past sunrise, while the crisp morning air spilled through the screen covering the open window. All the sounds of the busy world that laid beyond the front door were just mere background noise inside the house, though.

Both empty and half-drunken bottles of Corona beer littered the coffee table, and an empty box of what used to be a large pizza laid on the floor next to a shiny purple foil packet that was torn open straight down the middle. On top of the rug laid a pair of pink socks, a worn pair of size three blue jeans and a pair of flimsy, black lace underwear. Draped over the arm of the couch was a lace bra to match the underwear on the floor and a pair of white and red checkered boxer shorts; all clear, indisputable evidence of what had gone on the night before.

On the couch, his body was motionless and flat against the cushions. His eyes were closed, his face relaxed and he truly looked as though it was the most peaceful he had been in a while. The slight breeze that flowed through the open window just above the couch made the small amount of downy soft, loose hairs on his chest dance back and forth while his arm was wrapped leisurely across the lower half of her body.

She, with her leg draped across his waist and her head resting comfortably in the crook of his neck, breathed easily. To her, it was the most restful slumber she ever had. Subconsciously, she felt safe, which was something she was a stranger to feeling. With his hand clung to her waist and his strong, muscular arms locked, there was no place in the world she would rather be. Her silky brunette hair rested in tousled waves around her bare and exposed back, her nose whistled just slightly each time she inhaled and her lips were parted just slightly.

To an outsider, they looked like they belonged. Alex's fluffy brown hair standing up on all ends, unruly and chaotic solely from being ruffled and gripped by her hands just hours before they fell asleep. Jo's eyeliner, murky and staining her cheeks from the sticky hot sweat that radiated from their bodies. They looked messy, but they looked like they belonged. Interlocked and intertwined, tangled up in each other, a blanket spread over their bodies as the sunlight kissed their skin. It was aesthetically beautiful and incidentally perfect that nothing could ruin the moment.

Nothing, besides a pager, that is.

Startled awake by the high-pitched ringing emanating from the pocket of the pair of blue jeans strewn across the back of the couch, Alex jolted and picked his head up, leaving his eyes minimal time to adjust to the sudden light. They stung a bit and hung low and a yawn rose up in the back of his throat, but he instinctively and unconsciously lifted his arm so he could silence his pager.

His arm was weighed down though, which was the first sign that something was wrong. Usually, he was able to silence his pager with one swift movement and that was the end of it. This time however, his arm was being kept back and held down and he had to lift his head to check out the reason.

As soon as he lifted his head though, he was met with a pounding, pulsating headache that began behind his temple and radiated down into the bridge of his nose. He closed them again, exhaled sharply and reopened them, blinking a few times to bring everything into focus. His head was hurting and his arms were sore, but he chalked that up to the fact that he was sleeping pretty hard.

Last night must've been a mess.

For starters, he never slept on the couch unless he was too intoxicated to conquer the steps. He almost always made it to his bed, yet here he was, squished and cramped up on the couch with nothing but a sheet covering him. He still wasn't fully to his senses, but he could already tell that something wasn't completely concise.

Preparing to heave a hard, miserable, hangover-induced sigh, he inhaled through his nostrils and stared up at the tiles that made the ceiling pattern in a near desperate attempt to let the fact that he was indeed hungover resonate in the back of his mind. What on Earth had possessed him to drink eight bottles of beer, knowing that he was on call? Sure he was lucky that he had made it through the night without managing to be paged, but now he was actually needed and he had a screaming headache.

He parted his lips upon swallowing to lubricate his very dry throat and took another deep breath through his nose. He wrinkled his brows and his eyes instantly narrowed. The smell he took in was familiar but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. The scent was soft and very faint, but the deeper he inhaled the stronger it was. Peppermint, he thought to himself. Coconut, maybe. Yes, he recognized the scent. It was his most favorite smell ever, how could he forget? He smelled it every time he was within two feet of her, every time she leaned in to whisper an inside joke in his ear, every time she tilted her head back and made the air move, every time he pulled her into an awkward side-hug. It was hers. It was the scent of Jo.

Why was he smelling it so clearly now? Sometimes it would linger on the pillowcases. Sometimes she slept over and stole a pillow from his bed and when she'd return it, it smelled like her conditioner. It wasn't a fact that he'd admit, but he never washed them. He knew it was pathetic, to secretly indulge in a childlike fantasy with his crush by overtly sniffing the pillowcase she laid on, but he couldn't help it. It was the part of her that he got to keep with him when he missed her, the part of her that would never be "too busy" and the part of her that was eternally his. So it was a pillowcase. Inanimate, but still speaking volumes.

Yes, sometimes the scent of Jo's shampoo clung to the fabric and left behind a pleasant surprise for him to divulge in, but it still didn't offer any explanation as to why it was so deftly in his nostrils now. He couldn't remember the last time Jo had spent the night at his house now that she had other places to stay and even so, it wasn't like the pillow she slept on had any place on the couch.

Unless…

Slowly and nervously, he turned his head to his left. His heart pounded in his chest like the beat of a snare drum and beads of sweat collected at his temple. He didn't know why the apprehension coursed through his body the way it did, but something in his conscience wouldn't allow his mind to even wander to the possibility. He knew it was better to doubt than to get his hopes up for something he had long since deemed impossible.

Sure enough, when his eyes focused in on the scene to his left, all his doubts were proven true. The very object weighing his arm down from earlier and preventing him from previously silencing his pager was a head. A head with long, thick, silky strands of chocolate brown hair sprouting from it. And of course, attached to that head was a body. Not just any body, though. The most beautiful body he had ever laid eyes on and ultimately, the body he had so often fantasized about.

A part of his brain willed him to close his eyes and go back to sleep. To close his arms around her, pull her closer and fall back asleep just to further enjoy the moments of bliss that he was granted, at least for a little while. But the bigger part of his mind told him to stay awake. To look. If only for a moment.

Her lengthy eyelashes rested on the upper parts of her cheeks while her eyes were calmly relaxed and closed. Her soft, pink lips came together ever so lightly and the corners of her mouth were easy. He grazed his thumb across the tiny brown freckle on her cheek and grinned to himself at how she had dozens of others sprinkled along her shoulders and back to match the one on her face. Her chest pumped up and down in a rhythm and she was peaceful.

How hungover was he?

How much of last night did he remember?

Because he didn't want to forget. Her shoulders were bare and from the corner of his eye, he could see clothes scattered about. That, coupled with the fact that he had finally come around enough to feel the blanket draped over him hitting his own bare skin told him that something happened last night. Something that was definitely worth remembering.

How much did he remember?

He took his thumb away from the smooth, velvety skin of her face and stared up at the ceiling again. He closed his eyes. He tried to lose himself in the thoughts of last night.

Lips. Her lips smashed against his, soft and open, mouth to mouth, exchanging saliva and the taste of cold, hard beer. Her tongue is massaging against his. Her head is tilted to the side, allowing the kiss to deepen and eventually, she gives in to submission. He takes control of the kiss now, takes her bottom lip between his two and sucks for a moment. He drives her wild.

Legs. His own are positioned normally underneath him as he sits on the couch, his feet planted firmly on the floor. Hers are on either side of his. She straddles him and locks her legs around his waist. Every so often, her legs will part more and more until eventually, they are opened only as much as her skin-tight blue jeans will allow them to be.

Arms. Her elbows are comfortably nestled in his shoulder blades and her forearms are by his ears. His are at her hips, locked tightly around them, guiding her. Keeping her steady, keeping her pressed firmly against his growing erection and not allowing her to move otherwise.

Hands. His are on her lower back. He keeps his hands at a decent position, careful not to violate her even though he so desperately wants them to wander just a little below her waistline. Hers are knotted through his hair, pulling him and keeping his mouth to hers. She doesn't want to break the kiss. Her every emotion is spilling out into his mouth. Anticipation, hunger. Passion, drive. Everything she feels is coming out in the kiss and she doesn't intend to let him go without making him feel how badly she wants him.

His eyes flashed to the floor. Her blue jeans were on the rug, along with her undergarments. It was fuzzy, but he remembered how they came off.

When his fingers force the button through the narrow slit, the two pieces of fabric fly apart and expose the black, lace trim. She elevates her hips and grabs the waistband of her jeans and begins yanking them off, while he pulls his t-shirt over his head. He looks down at the way her hips stick out, the way her thighs come together and licks his lips. She throws her jeans onto the floor as if they're a mere inconvenience and sits up, pulling him into another steamy kiss.

His hands wander to her waist and his fingertips dance around the rim of her panties. He wants them off. He wants them on the floor with her socks and her jeans, but he wants to be respectful. Instead, he slides them up to the middle of her back and fumbles with the hook of her bra through her shirt. She doesn't seem to mind. In fact, she reaches back to help him. Her bra hangs loose once she unbuckles it, but she puts her hands back in his hair.

For a quick breath, he pulls his lips away from hers and listens as her breathing is shallow from such heavy make out. He drags his lips from hers down to the skin on her neck and leaves them there as she catches her breath. She keeps one hand on the back of his head while the other roams to the waistline of his boxer shorts.

Beneath the palms of his hands, her breasts are smooth and incredibly soft. He kneads them softly for a few moments, letting his thumbs ease across her nipples a few times. He closes his mouth around her neck and gives her a tender kiss. Mimicking his "one-step-further" mentality, she slips her hand inside his boxers.

A dreamy sigh escaped from Alex's chest at the memory. It all happened so fast. One moment they were laughing, the next moment they had enough liquid courage to flirt. One moment they were friends, just regular drinking buddies, the next they were so much more. One moment they were kissing, the next they were going at it. One moment he was touching underneath her shirt and the next he was putting a condom on.

It all happened in a blur; so quickly that he probably wouldn't have remembered it even if he hadn't been drinking. But the more he thought about it, the more it came back to him.

He takes the foil package between his teeth and tears it open, quickly spitting the remnants onto the floor and tossing the wrapper on the floor before taking the slippery condom into his hand. She lays flat against the couch and bends her knees in preparation, bursting with drunken anticipation at what's to come. She wants this just as badly as he does...maybe more. She's ready, in all aspects.

He lowers himself over her body and gives her a chaste kiss on her lips before positioning himself and aligning their pelvises. She looks up in his eyes with nothing but complete and utter trust in hers and he reciprocates the look. If he didn't know any better, he would say that she's looking at him like she loves him. He knows better though. She doesn't love him. He loves her, but it's unrequited. He's making love, but to her it's just sex.

"You sure?" he whispers, pausing before allowing the head of his erection to penetrate her.

"Mmm-hmm," she smiles and wholeheartedly nods her head. She wants this. The prospect of refusing him hadn't even crossed her mind. In fact, the thought seemed kind of ridiculous. How could she say no to something that felt so right?

She knows it's wrong. Deep in her conscience, down in the depths of her being, she knows that lying down and allowing him to have her in this way is wrong. But she doesn't know how it could be. That part doesn't make much sense to her. If it's wrong, then why does it feel so right? Why does having him hovering over her body feel like it should be happening?

He tilts his head to one side to avoid bumping noses with her and guides his lips across hers.

A contented grin snaked across Alex's face at that. He didn't know exactly how they had gotten to that point. That part was a little hazy. He shifted his position just slightly so he could get another look at her in all her beauty as she slept. Another smile crept up on him when he noticed, from the corner of his eye, a red, circular mark on his shoulder blade. The teeth indentations had faded, but the shape of her mouth was still there.

She was a biter.

That much he remembered.

He burrows his face in the crook of her neck, occasionally kissing it here and there. The heat radiating between the two of them made the sweat collect on both their bodies and the sweat makes it that much more difficult for her hands to grip and claw at his back.

The palms of his hands rest at the base of her neck and his fingers curl through her hair as he bottom half of his body pumps in and out at a rhythmic pace. Underneath of his, her body isn't still. Her legs are wide and wrapped around his waist and she moves with him.

She's used to him now and he knows it. He let her become. Upon making his first thrust into her, he steadied. He steadied and remained still, allowing her petite frame to adjust to having his body filling her and on top of her. She was used to him now though, and to him, that was license to do more.

He places his hands on either side of her and holds himself up in a push-up position. He looks down at her, only to find that her eyes are closed. Her eyes are closed and her head is tilted back. Gaunt breaths and mellifluous moans spurt out in spastic patterns and at that, he grins. He draws his waist back so that only the tip of himself is inside of her and when he pushes it back in, he slams back into her, ensuring that she feels all of his length and a low, satisfied moan escapes her mouth.

She's fiercely hot, dripping wet and impossibly tight. He had wondered for a very long time what she'd be like. He wondered if she was shaved, if she was loud, if she was a talker or a moaner, if she got wet easily. For a while he had wondered these things. For a while, he had it in his mind. But now that he had her, all he wanted to do was take care of her. All he wanted to do was make sure she felt pleasure.

His heart beats faster and faster and he picks up his pace until it eventually matches the quickness that his heart is beating. Her walls constrict around him, which elicits two different responses. He smirks, proud that he was able to make her come close to orgasm. She throws her head back and reeling with anticipation, she wraps her arms around his neck and burrows her face in his shoulder.

She whimpers directly in his ear and digs her fingernails deep into the sweaty flesh of his back.

"Oh my god," she mumbles, her voice muffled from talking into his shoulder.

She can't take it anymore. She's too close and it feels much too good. She tries to take her legs from around his waist, but he puts his hands on her kneecaps and forces them to stay open. He wants her to take it. This is an opportunity he never thought he'd get, and now that the had it, he wasn't going to squander it.

"A-A-," she begins to moan his name, but she can't spit it out. Instead, she clamps her mouth down and bites his salty, slick shoulder.

He smiles to himself at how little he feels from being so caught up in the moment and smiles even wider upon hearing her finally get his name out.

Alex propped himself up on his shoulder and let his eyes rest on her, just admiring her beauty. He draped his arm loosely across her waist and let his thumb stroke back and forth, stroking her navel.

He knew it wasn't exactly what he wanted, but he still had fun pretending. He had fun pretending that she was his girlfriend. That they were laying in the bed that they shared every night, basking in the incredible afterglow of a night he wanted to relive over and over again. Eventually, Jo would wake up and he'd go into the kitchen to fix her something to eat. Then, they'd ride together to the hospital and kiss each other and tell each other that they hoped the other had a nice day at work. They were boyfriend and girlfriend.

Dispersing his quaint little dream cloud, his pager started to ring again. He sighed hard and reluctantly took his arm from around her waist to silence his pager.

"W-what is that?" her groggy voice cut through the silence and she took a moment to come to her senses.

Alex sighed. He knew that his bliss was about to be interrupted. Still, it was nice while it lasted. Jo yawned and picked her head up off the couch and for a few moments, she had to blink to bring herself to terms with where she was at. She wasn't where she was supposed to be. No, she was supposed to be in a bed. She was supposed to be in his apartment. Not here.

She wrinkled her brows upon realizing that she was naked and her jaw dropped. She clutched the blanket to her chest and looked around at the beer bottles, the pizza box, the clothes and the empty condom wrapper. It was starting to become clear now. She had done something horrible. Something very, very bad.

Her head slowly turned and when she met his face, he could see mortification written clear across hers. They felt very differently. He was satisfied. He got what he wanted. He got what he dreamed of. But it wasn't the case for her. She made a horrible mistake.

"...Did we…" her voice was soft and it held a sense of disbelief. Alex just nodded his head and looked away from her. Her face fell and she reached over the edge of the couch and grabbed her cell phone. Seventeen missed calls, all from him. "Oh god…. No," she whispered.

She put her head down and felt tears prick the corners of her eyes. She covered her hands over her eyes and took a few breaths. Alex pulled the blanket back and prepared to get up and get dressed.

"W-where are you going?" she picked her head up and faced him with tears streaming down her cheeks.

He pulled his boxers up on his waist and swallowed hard, then cleared his throat. "I got paged," he mumbled.

"Don't --Alex, don't-" she sat up too, holding the blanket to her naked body. "...Aren't we at least going to... talk about this?"

"And say what? You're gonna tell me how much you regret it and I'm gonna tell you I'm sorry. We already know how it's gonna end so it's not necessary."

He ran his fingers through his hair and put his hands on his hips. He didn't want to talk to her about it. If they didn't talk about it, she couldn't ruin it. She couldn't dissolve the vision he had in his head. The vision of her moaning his name, of him rubbing her hips as she rode him. He didn't want to think of it as a mistake, so he didn't want to talk about it.

"I've gotta go, Jo," he mumbled again and headed for the steps.

"Are you mad at me?" she stood up, wiping a streak of mascara off her cheek.

"Mad?" he raised his eyebrow. "Why would I be mad? Because I don't want to sit here and watch you cry over how big of a mistake we made?"

"Sorry if I'm not…happy enough for you? But I'm not going to pretend like I'm happy that I just cheated on my boyfriend. He's going to kill me…"

"So that's what you're worried about," he snickered. "Peckwell killing you." He shook his head and turned back around again. "Get out of my house, Jo.

"Alex, wait! What is your problem?!" Using one hand to hold the blanket over her body, she used the other to wipe the tears from her cheeks. "Why are you being like this? We...we…"

"We had SEX, Jo. Just say it."

"...We had sex," she whispered it as if she couldn't believe it. "...Why are you mad about that?"

"You think I'm excited to hear you trash it? I know what we did. I know what we did last night and I remember it. I didn't regret it. So yeah...screw me if I don't want to hear you ruin it for me."

"I'm not trashing it," she shook her head. "I'm not proud of it, but I'm...not trashing it. I liked it," she admitted. "Did you not… like it?"

"Of course I liked it, Jo! I loved it!" he sucked his teeth. "...But you've got a boyfriend, and…"

"What does me having a boyfriend have to do with you loving it? What does it have to do with you being an absolute jerk to me? I cheated on my boyfriend Alex, not you… It has nothing to do with you."

"It does if I love you, Jo!" he yelled. "It does if I love you and it does if I made love to you last night and can't have you! I can't have you! He does!"

"...Is that what this is about? This is about you wanting me?"

Alex just sighed. How could she not know? How could she not know that he wanted her? Sure she screwed him over by going off and getting a boyfriend when he was clear about wanting to date her. But how could she be so clueless? Of course he wanted her. Of course he loved her. Did she really miss the signs?

He shook his head, and as his pager went off yet again, he climbed up the steps to get dressed for the day.

[misc-headcanons]

Can I get a match up with a female from BNHA? I've got long black hair & light brown eyes too I'm more on the thicker side but I try my best to work out three times a week, so more of thick mixed with muscle. I'm a Sagittarius. A straight male & like to be outside hiking & hit the beach too! I'm more nerdy than sporty though without a doubt I love anime, have like forty volumes of manga, literature books like 'The Iliad' or others like a collection of Edgar Allan Poe 's works. (Part 1)

I'm called a very unique person by others lol. I don’t show my true colors to anyone at first. After others warm up to me I become this person everyone can vibe with. No matter how different I may be I can relate to anyone on a personal level really easily. I work as a cook for both a restaurant and part time on a food truck. I do take my work seriously but I love to read and write too! From poetry to fanfics anything and everything 😍 (Part 2, sorry had to send these in two separate asks)

I match you with…Pixie Bob!

Pixie Bob seems like one of the more energetic members of the Pussycats, and I think she's the one that hits the gym the most out of them. She isn't as muscular as Miruko, but she's definitely a bit built. She'd love to spend the day going for a run or a hike with you (and if you two get tired on a hike, she can use her Quirk to carry the two of you part of the way up/down the trail). Pixie also likes her partners thicc, so you'd definitely be her type :3 That's not to say that she only loves your appearance, though!

Pixie Bob was more into anime/manga before she became a Pro, so she'd be happy to check out your favorite series in her spare time. She doesn't read much literature, but she'd enjoy reading any Edgar Allen Poe stories from your collection during Halloween. She would also loooove to read anything you've written. Even if it's a fanfic from a series she's never seen or read before, she still wants to look at what you've written (because you wrote it! Of course it'll be good!)

Pixie Bob would open up/warm up to you really quickly, and her natural energy really gels with your own; you two are both able to get along with almost anyone, and you both just have really good vibes when you're together.

Like you, she also takes her work seriously as a Pro Hero, and she's glad to have a partner that's as into their own work as she is with hers. She'd also stop by your food truck all the time during her lunch break or after work, and she always gives you a kiss through the window along with her money to pay for her food.

[seatights5-blog]

The particular Subtle Symphony of this Winery

Anyone who has proved helpful in a winery with regard to any length of period learns there is certainly one audio, more than any other, that will is quickly, pump-stoppingly, drop-what-you-are-doing, alarming: the sound of fresh falling on typically the floor. That has a certain timbre, a splash noise that conjures up every one of the disasters one has seen around wineries. I've read it a hundred times and it by no means ends to make me prevent and raise my scalp similar to a gazelle mid-feed. Being unfaithful moments out of eight it's not shout about – a good bucket overflowing with water or perhaps a harness left slightly wide open – nonetheless those aren't the particular images that spring immediately to mind. I've curved some sort of corner to discover a reservoir being filled with white juice by the bottom valve, but the user (in this specific case the winemaker) acquired left the other control device (known generally as often the racking valve – normally a good meter or thus higher than its comparable version – open). Juice was initially pouring out of often the sphincter muscle, onto the terrain, and down the drain. Related reports: The Less likely Making regarding a Winemaker Crediting this Winemaker Where it can Owing Accountants Calling the particular Shots at Wineries Little water prior to crash Tanks staying overfilled have a stormy dash sound as their attributes work with wine that in that case drops off their own reduced circumference and on top of the floor. Overflowing juice tubs, stuffed as presses seriously set out to exert some strain in the grapes inside, overflow by having an almost unstoppable chute. I wish to to say these people make a waterfall audio nevertheless I think which is just the impression that they give. That they splash, these people splash like all drink and wine that gets the floor. Heard a good splashing sound throughout a new winery that lasts longer when compared with three seconds and you head out to check out. Winemakers are accustomed to using their noses in addition to their eye (and their own palate) in a vineyard – it matches the career. If you don't aroma a new reductive ferment (one when the yeast is not necessarily totally happy) from the particular top of the aquarium, it won't be extended before a person leave often the vineyard flooring to smell this. Its not necessary some sort of winemaking course to know that if anyone see a spread-out enamel of crimson on the ground, some red wines has gone astray. Nonetheless sounds? If the minute regarding opening your container could be the pop of the cork or the scratch regarding a screwcap, used by reverential silence as well as the glug of the pour, then the winery is the some other section of this. Often the vineyard is full of sounds. It is relentless. The idea can be (during harvest) high in volume. Many wineries rely on products, on motive power, cooling systems and on compressed weather. Air flow compressors make the hell of any noise : I've also worked within a new vineyard where the compressed air has been created by way of a diesel powered engine unit – the kind utilized for roadworks. Air-conditioning units are inaudible generally, but stand up close and they create a noisy rumble. Cooling down The very best Wine Valets to Travel Your chosen Bottles are quiet yet the pumps that press the coolant all around often the winery make some sort of unremitting hum. Bag presses blow up and decompress with the lots of noise – in addition to they likewise click, faucet, whirr, complain and grumble as they rotate. A few have alarms that will appear every time they may be on the verge of rotate. Forklifts beep, whirr and clatter. Penis pumps sound, whinge and rattle. Grape trucks rumble together with pule pipe yaup and dump berries with a huge thump and even sprinkle. Hydraulic receival bins (where trucks and trailers eliminate the grapes) now have a low-frequency whine; his or her augers a new drone; this crusher-destemmer can produce some sort of variety of noises ~ a good relentless metronomic clang will be a sign something will be not right, for case – although commonly audio like a large slip drier would if that were removed of almost any external cladding and geared-up to move double the swiftness. A must water pump (in case you hadn't recognized, we're following the vineyard through the production method of most traditional wineries) is typically a good silent element of kit in comparison with it has the stablemates – it will emit a fairly higer pitched whine should you tune in hard – but since these kinds of, any noise from using it, possibly be that the suck-slosh sound of it running dried up and also the chug of that working hard, is actually cause for alarm. Filling a new fermenter for red wine beverages usually begins with a new thump-bang-spatter because grape have to hits the ground of typically the tank and primarily information outwards. As the tank is filling, it is definitely, reasonably speaking, a muted event. But a little is often a signal the must collection (winery grape/wine hoses plus hoses are known as "lines" – the term "hose" is usually reserved for water – features pushed itself out of the tank with the force of the have to coming out of it and even has decided to expell it has the contents on to the ground. This can and will do come about. The sound involving dripping solution is rarely a good register a winery. © BFL | The sound of leaking liquid is seldom a great sign in a vineyard. Tends to make me wanna yell And from now on would be a good time for you to talk regarding shouting. In most instances, this involves screaming "stop often the pump". In a huge winery, this is certainly generally a new forlorn endeavor and this witness must proceed along with hurry (but definitely not excessive haste) to the agent in question. In small jobs, this cry commonly has got the desired effect : every person hits the stop-button nearby to them. Or perhaps sometimes typically the noise regarding whatever possesses happened is definitely enough – as in the particular case of me personally going down through a ladder ditch in some scaffolding – plus the closest to person shouts "are anyone ok? inch, despite certainly not seeing precisely what had transpired. I keep in mind one occasion as soon as, midway through rolling some sort of fermenter cover through the vineyard a associate shouted "Guys! " This was adopted by another, louder "GUYS! " (a second holler is a surefire signal something is amiss). Most of us all went to find the dog wrestling with a new tank control device the deal with had connected around together with popped opened. He was initially saturated in fermenting Sauvignon Blanc. But shouts happen to be like sounds – mostly, you know when it's an disaster, or if something went wrong. My spouse and i can't explain that, nonetheless you get an head for this. Like a Bucher 150 push losing front door seal at 2 pub. I probably should make clear this so you get often the full picture. The Bucher 150 is the somewhat common cylindrical bladder click. It is essentially a stainless steel tube divided down this middle by a large bag. Guiding the tote goes often the compressed surroundings that is used to squash the bag from the grapes (which are with lack of of the bag) and the drink functions off down about seven drainage channels into the hit tray. There are also a pair of doors on this fruit area of the particular press. They allow it to be emptied and permit people to climb in clean it. The doors happen to be about half the size of some sort of regular door. They fall, and so are sealed pneumatically versus the outside the press. This press runs, at the upper level, with a tension of 2 bar, or 200kPa, or 29lbs for each square inch. I is not going to go ahead to how and even so why this took place (it had been operator miscalculation ~ to a qualification: the heart and soul was that in the event you flicked concerning automatic together with guide method in the previous models, you always risked shedding door seal) yet, via my desk, now there got a double-BOOM, some sort of whoosh like a fly plane all of a sudden appearing cost, put into practice, events later, by means of what sounded like rain on the tin roof (it was actually half-dried Pinot Gris skins falling from the sky). I searched on the lab technical assistant, this lab technical viewed with me, and that we ran outside. This is a bit about sounds so We won't describe the landscape. Be adequate to say that will weeks in the future, when the idea rained, we'd even now come across Pinot Gris cases forthcoming out of the guttering using the rainwater. Not most sounds are usually bad nevertheless – many are happy. The particular rhythmic slosh of a great irrigator wetting the hat of fermenting Cabernet or perhaps Merlot; often the squelch, are terrible, fizz regarding plunging a fermenting limitation of Pinot Noir; the beeping of timers in the research laboratory; the scrape of a new stirrer in a gun barrel involving Chardonnay; the scream of "standby", the reply associated with "standing by", in addition to the "stop" of topping a tank. Days of homemade wine and Boses And then there is certainly the stereo. Almost all of my personal European vintages have been completed in relative silence as long as music went. In quite a few wineries we may well include a portable radio, nonetheless mostly generally there wasn't songs. When Anyone that Loves Wine Ought To be able to Study This received to help the SouthernHemisphere, even though, the first vintage surprise was initially seeing two audio system the size of banano boxes hanging from the eaves, overlooking the push area. The music streamed out there as we performed, from start to evening, red and white, we all listened to everything. Together with I adored it : I still do. In most of the New Globe wineries I have worked well in, we have seen a audio system in each work area (barrel hall, vineyard, lab). Some, though, get it very seriously. Central Otago winemaker Dean Shaw presides over reputedly the best stereo system in the location together with a huge repository that goes into terabytes. They has rules although. You need to play an album inside their entirety, for illustration. In addition to Rage Against This Machine is definitely banned. Because, undoubtedly for the majority of wineries (once everyone's Spotify has recently been exhausted), the radio gets the particular fall-back, there are songs I actually powerfully keep company with vintages. Sedona by Houndmouth is old-fashioned 2015. This year, it will be Run Crazy by means of Brand-new Zealand team Racing. As I write, this can be late in the evening. Just about Great Wine and Good Mood offers curbside pickup is quiet spend less typically the hiss outside involving compressed air bleeding by itself from the process together with my post-rock COMPACT DISK playing on the clinical stereo. In a few days the essential contraindications silence will certainly return and even, to always be honest, I'm definitely not totally looking forward to it.

[jetstarsays]

(Continued from https://jetstarsays.tumblr.com/post/186449423017/screaming-thats-all-jet-star-can-hear-it-takes

For @systematic-ghosts )

Jet came to sometime later. The sun had gone down and so did the temperature. He subconsciously shook, both from the cold and emotional outburst, and pulled his jacket around him a little tighter. He gathered his things carefully in the backpack again, trying to keep the toy truck off his mind. As standard in the Zones, he had to focus on survival. Jet pushed his past away with the shake of his head. He needed to survive the night.

Collecting himself with a sigh, he peeked his head up above his rocky cover and looked around. Jet half expected a Drac to be standing there, but the coast was clear—thank the Witch—so he proceeded on in a direction that he thought looked like the way to Doctor D’s shack. Now, Jet wasn’t born in the desert, but he spent enough time traveling through here to basically have it memorized. This area? Jet had no idea where he was. “Must be far out in Zone 5,” he muttered, placing his hand on his ray gun. All the Killjoys knew that the further out in the zones you go, the more radiation there is. The old ‘Joys talk of the effects of the radiation, the mutations of the animals. Basically, Zone 5 is not where any sane ‘Joy wants to spend his time. So, Jet walked. He rested during midday, when the sun was the hottest, and continued at dusk. He continued this pattern for a few days, trying to ignore how thirsty he was, how his leg ached, until a small, unassuming shack came into his view on the horizon. That must be it. Jet Star broke into a run for the second time, dashing full speed towards the radio station. He hoped the Doc wasn’t in the middle of a radio broadcast so he can talk to him.

Jet ran into—literally ran into—Show Pony and was thrown onto his back the sand. He looked up at the tall lanky Killjoy before him, still wearing their signature mask with a small grin.

“Hey there sugar!” Pony held a hand out to help Jet back up, “We heard you were in’a bit of a clap, it’s good to see you in one piece.”

Jet gasped for air, his voice catching in his dry throat. Pony took that as a cue to help Jet inside. The (slightly) cooler air hit Jet’s face the moment he stepped inside and he practically collapsed onto Pony and the Doc’s chair. Show Pony handed him a bottle of water which he gulped down.

“Pony? Where in the Witch is my screwdriver?” a voice bounded from the other room. Jet perked up instantly.

“Look in the drawer, Doc, where it always is.” Pony laughed in response, “But come ‘ere, we have company & I think he needs a doctor’s touch.”

The Doc wheeled into the room with a grin on his face. “Jet Star! It’s good to see you, son.” Doctor Death Defying, a legend in the Zones, rolled in the room in a wheelchair. He was a veteran of the Helium Wars. Jet was just a baby when they happened. Doc never really talked about how he ended up in a wheelchair and none of the ‘Joys that Jet knew had the stones to ask him.

“Hi Doc.” Jet breathed, “It’s good to see ya familiar face.” He put his face in his hands. “Doc, I almost got ghosted. Again. They found me. I fell asleep, I fucked up and let my guard down. Witch, if I got captured and tortured again.”

“Son, you didn’ get captured. You didn’ get clapped. You made it, kid.” Doc clasped a hand on Jet’s shoulder, “You should let Pony check ya out, make sure you didn’t get hurt.”

Jet gingerly rolled up his pant leg to reveal the burn mark on his calf.

“Ouch, Jet, how did that happen?” Pony asked, bringing over the full first aid kit.

“They blew up my hideout, I barely made it out. So much fire, flames.” He muttered, he could practically feel the heat on his face.

Pony grimaced, sitting down on the floor to treat him, their roller skates spread out in front of Jet’s legs. “Did you already treat this? Looks fairly clean.”

Jet nods and shrugs, “Party always made us carry a first aid kit.” He didn’t look up at the other two as he spoke quietly.

“Wise fella, Party Poison.” Doc chimed in, smiling a little.

It was quiet for a few moments, but Jet couldn’t hold it in any longer, “Doc. Do you think…do you think any of them made it out?” his gaze held steady to the floor, studying the shaggy rug’s details. The Doctor seemed to have been waiting for him to look back up. When Jet eventually met his eye, he said softly, “All intel inside BLi suggests they are either hidden inside or ghosted.” Jet’s shoulders fall, “But. With you lot, I wouldn’t doubt at least some of them are out here in the zones somewhere. Your crew is tough and stubborn, which is a good combination to fight BLi.”

Jet smiles out of the side of his mouth, remembering the previous clap, where Kobra Kid spat at the SCARECROWS that got too close. He looked up to see the Doc still watching him. Pony had gotten up to find food for their new hideaway.

“I know you’re scared; I know you want your crew and your boy back. But they’ll give you a sign.”

“I got one. My kid’s toy truck fell out of my bag while I was running. The one thing I have left of him.” Jet messed with the callous on his thumb, his gaze falling back downwards.

Pony skates back inside, carrying food as Doc answers, “I’m sorry, boy. I’ll have the runners keep an eye out for it.” He takes the food, a can of Power Pup and a can of oranges, and Jet does the same. Jet really dislikes Power Pup but when it’s mixed with other (actual food), it isn’t as bad. He needs to eat anyway; he’s been running in the desert for what feels like days. His body ached, his head still throbbed from dehydration, sobbing and, oh yeah, that blast.

“I’m not cut out for running alone.” Jet mutters between spoon-fuls.

“We can hook you up with—” Show Pony begins, but Jet stops her with a look.

“I only run with them, Pony.” He said, “I can’t replace my family.”

“Ain’t nobody trying to replace them, sweets.” Pony responds softly, “I just wanna keep you safe.”

Jet nodded, safe; that sounds nice. But this is the Zones, there is no such thing as safe. He was about to tell Pony as much when Doctor Death Defying perked up, “Okay, kids, I’m gonna hit the hay. Jet, you know you’re free to stay here.” Doctor patted Jet’s knee, and he whispered his thanks. Doc continued, “Pony, you stayin’ awake or comin’ with?”

“I ain’t tired, I’ll be in later.” Pony said, clasping the Doctor’s hand as he passed.

Jet hoisted his (suddenly feeling so heavy) legs onto the couch and laid back.

“I knew you survived.” Pony said sometime later, sounding almost smug, “Even when the others gave up hope, I knew it.”

Jet almost smiled, and rested his head back on the patchwork couch, “How long were we…was I gone?”

Show Pony considered for a moment, tapping their finger on their chin, “Had to be two weeks, maybe three.”

Three weeks?! He knew he lost track of time, but this is a shock. He was held at BLi for at least five of those days, they attempted to brain wash—what did they call it? Re-education. He doesn’t remember much about it, just pain. Overwhelming, excruciating pain. Jet isn’t a stranger to excruciating pain, but this was a whole new level.

Jet had his eyes closed for a while, on the brink of a flashback, and Show Pony must have thought he fell asleep because when he opened his eyes, he was alone. The room was quiet, way too quiet. Their home was usually buzzing with some sort of noise: Fun Ghoul working in the garage, Kobra Kid pacing, and, well, whatever the fuck Party Poison did during the day. He had become accustomed to it, he needed it.

Jet didn’t sleep, but he usually laid down and rested for a few hours at a time. The nightmares and sleep terrors of his past keep him awake. His friends don’t understand how he does it, Kobra tried staying up with Jet once and started hallucinating by the second night.

Jet sighed, he pushed those thoughts away and grabbed his backpack that was sitting on the floor beside him. He placed it on his stomach and looked inside for his radio. Eventually, Jet found a station still playing music and settled in, turning the volume way down so he doesn’t wake Doc and Pony.

He heard a familiar tune playing over the radio, although he can’t place it.

Coming out of my cage

And I've been doing just fine

Gotta gotta be down

Because I want it all

What is this song and why does it send chills down Jet’s spine?

It started out with a kiss

How did it end up like this?

It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss

Now I'm falling asleep

Jet assumed he must be losing it and tried to relax. Then the chorus came on.

Jealousy, turning saints into the sea

Swimming through sick lullabies

Choking on your alibis

But it's just the price I pay

Destiny is calling me

Open up my eager eyes

'Cause I'm Mr. Brightside

Jet choked and sat up. It couldn’t be. How could this song come on now?! He hasn’t heard it in years. In…since his son was small. His chest ached. This was their song. His eyes welled up with tears as he was thrown into a flashback.

The two of them liked to go on runs together, or at least that’s what they told the others. In reality, the father and son duo sped around in the trans-am until they crashed or ran out of gas, blasting music that Jet knew before the war. Mr. Brightside, he remembered, was Ghost’s favorite. Jet considered it his favorite song just because of how happy it made his young son. Jet could practically feel the sand whipping at his face as he drove far too fast and recklessly, both screaming at the top of their lungs. He stole glances at Ghost in the passenger seat. In that moment, he was trying to imprint that smile into his memories. Ghost had a shitty life, and Jet was very aware that he was mostly responsible for how it went. He wanted to see that smile forever, but he knew, even then, that it was impossible. Not out here, in the desert.

Jet was thrust back into the present by a foreign arm around his shoulder. No, he didn’t want to leave Ghost’s smile! It was gone, and Jet was left shaking and sobbing on Doctor D’s couch, sweat pouring down his back like he had been standing outside in the sun all day. He looked around and took in his surroundings. It was Show Pony’s arm around his shoulder, and they had gently turned the radio off because it was quiet again. Doctor D was not far away, observing as he always does. Pony dabbed at his forehead sweat with an old rag. Jet tried to speak but no words came out. Pony just nodded, understanding without a word.