#whatever. starting from square 1 i guess

[blinksalot]

webfishing with my 2 worst enemies

[bibleofficial]

LOSING IT !!!!!!!! but at least i got the critters 🐟🦐🐌🐜

[mcmansionhell]

namesake mcmansion

Howdy folks! Today's McMansion is very special because a) we're returning to Maryland after a long time and b) because the street this McMansion is on is the same as my name. (It was not named after me.) Hence, it is my personal McMansion, which I guess is somewhat like when people used to by the name rights to stars even though it was pretty much a scam. (Shout out btw to my patron Andros who submitted this house to be roasted live on the McMansion Hell Patreon Livestream)

As far as namesake McMansions go, this one is pretty good in the sense that it is high up there on the ol' McMansion scale. Built in 2011, this psuedo-Georgian bad boy boasts 6 bedrooms and 9.5 baths, all totaling around 12,000 square feet. It'll run you 2.5 million which, safe to say, is exponentially larger than its namesake's net worth.

Now, 2011 was an anonymous year for home design, lingering in the dead period between the 2008 black hole and 2013 when the market started to actually, finally, steadily recover. As a result a lot of houses from this time basically look like 2000s McMansions but slightly less outrageous in order to quell recession-era shame.

I'm going to be so serious here and say that the crown molding in this room is a crime against architecture, a crime against what humankind is able to accomplish with mass produced millwork, and also a general affront to common sense. I hate it so much that the more I look at it the more angry I become and that's really not healthy for me so, moving on.

Actually, aside from the fake 2010s distressed polyester rug the rest of this room is literally, basically Windows 98 themed.

I feel like the era of massive, hefty sets of coordinated furniture are over. However, we're the one's actually missing out by not wanting this stuff because we will never see furniture made with real wood instead of various shades of MDF or particleboard ever again.

This is a top 10 on the scale of "least logical kitchen I've ever seen." It's as though the designers engineered this kitchen so that whoever's cooking has to take the most steps humanly possible.

Do you ever see a window configuration so obviously made up by window companies in the 1980s that you almost have to hand it to them? You're literally letting all that warmth from the fire just disappear. But whatever I guess it's fine since we basically just LARP fire now.

Feminism win because women's spaces are prioritized in a shared area or feminism loss because this is basically the bathroom vanity version of women be shopping? (It's the latter.)

I couldn't get to all of this house because there were literally over a hundred photos in the listing but there are so many spaces in here that are basically just half-empty voids, and if not that then actually, literally unfinished. It's giving recession. Anyway, now for the best part:

Not only is this the NBA Backrooms but it's also just a nonsensical basketball court. Tile floors? No lines? Just free balling in the void?

Oh, well I bet the rear exterior is totally normal.

Not to be all sincere about it but much like yours truly who has waited until the literal last second to post this McMansion, this house really is the epitome of hubris all around. Except the house's hubris is specific to this moment in time, a time when gas was like $2/gallon. It's climate hubris. It's a testimony to just how much energy the top 1% of income earners make compared to the rest of us. I have a single window unit. This house has four air conditioning condensers. That's before we get to the monoculture, pesticide-dependent lawn or the three car garage or the asphalt driveway or the roof that'll cost almost as much as the house to replace. We really did think it would all be endless. Oops.

If you like this post and want more like it, support McMansion Hell on Patreon for as little as $1/month for access to great bonus content including a discord server, extra posts, and livestreams.

Not into recurring payments? Try the tip jar! Student loans just started back up!

[jupiterpilgrim]

Drown With Me

Pt.2: Interpolation

Ningning x Minji x Male Reader

word count: 7K

part 1 | part 3

A/n: Pt.2 and pt.3 were supposed to be a single chapter, but it was split in two because of the block limit.

I wish I could be everything you wanted.

—

Oh, here we are again. But this time we're going back in time. We journeyed into the past because some things must be witnessed. And I say 'witnessed,' not 'understood.' For understanding confines the subtleties of human connections to a singular perspective, and that restricts the strange language of the heart.

We're at a bar now, where a lot of stories start. This is one of those:

The lights are dim and amber, casting warm shadows over the polished countertops and the scratched wooden floor. It’s a quiet Tuesday night, a lull between the weekend rush and midweek regulars. You’ve been working here long enough to know the rhythm of it—the predictable ebb and flow of people looking for drinks to drown whatever piece of life was gnawing at them. But then, just as you’re stacking a row of freshly washed glasses, the door swings open, and in walks her again.

She hesitates in the doorway, framed by the cool, blue glow of the streetlights outside. The first thing that grabs you, as it did last night, are her eyes—huge, almond-shaped, and impossibly feline. The kind of eyes that make you forget what you were supposed to be doing. They dart nervously around the room before finally landing on you, and for a moment, she freezes.

“You again,” you say, a smile tugging at your lips. You lean casually against the bar, arms crossed, trying not to seem too eager.

She’s wearing a cropped, black leather jacket that clings to her slender frame, sharp and a little out of place against the pale softness of her features. Beneath it, a white tank top hints at the curve of her collarbone and the toned lines of her stomach. Her high-waisted jeans, faded and torn at the knees, hug her slim legs like they were stitched onto her body. The scuffed Doc Martens on her feet somehow make her look even more striking—an accidental runway model lost in a world of beer stains and neon signs.

Her broad shoulders, almost too strong for her petite height, square up as if she's trying to summon some hidden reserve of confidence. But it’s her shyness, that hint of hesitation in every movement, that makes her feel like a puzzle you want to solve. She brushes a lock of jet-black hair behind her ear, her eyes darting away from yours as though the floor might swallow her whole if she stares for too long.

You tilt your head toward the bar, beckoning her closer. “Second night in a row, huh? You sure you’re not stalking me?”

Her lips part in a soft laugh, so quiet you almost miss it. “Hardly. My friend dragged me here yesterday. Tonight… I just needed some air.”

Her voice is as soft as her laugh, tinged with a slight huskiness that adds depth to her otherwise delicate demeanor. She approaches the bar slowly, her movements careful, like someone who’s always aware of the space she takes up.

“Well,” you say, pulling a coaster from under the counter and setting it down in front of her, “welcome back to the quietest bar in town. What can I get you?”

She perches on the stool, her knees pressed close together, hands tucked into the sleeves of her jacket. “Um…just a Coke, actually.”

“Coke?”

She nods, her eyes flicking up to meet yours, only to dart away again. “I don’t drink much.”

“Second night in a row at a bar and no drinks? You’re full of surprises.” You grab a glass and pour the soda, sliding it toward her. “Not that I’m complaining. Makes my job easier.”

She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear again, a nervous habit, you realize, but it only adds to the quiet allure of her presence. “You work here often?”

“Most nights.” You lean against the bar again, giving her your best casual smile. “And you? What’s your excuse for gracing us with your presence twice in a row?”

“I’m…” She hesitates, then shrugs. “I guess I just liked the vibe. It’s not like other places.”

“It’s not like most places because most places actually get customers,” you joke, gesturing to the mostly empty room. “But hey, if the vibe brought you back, I’m not going to argue.”

She smiles, faint but genuine. “It’s nice. Quiet. Less… intimidating.”

“Intimidating?” You raise an eyebrow, genuinely curious.

She fidgets with the straw in her glass, swirling the Coke absently. “Bars aren’t really my thing. Too loud, too crowded. I usually avoid them.” She glances up at you, almost shyly. “This one feels… different.”

You don’t miss the slight blush that creeps up her neck as she speaks, and something about it tugs at you. “Different’s good,” you say softly. “I like different.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The faint hum of the jukebox in the corner fills the silence, playing some slow, melancholic track that perfectly matches the mood. You watch as she takes a small sip of her drink, her lashes casting long shadows over her cheeks.

“So,” you finally ask, breaking the quiet, “what’s your name? Or should I just keep calling you ‘Coke Girl’?”

Her lips twitch into a smile again, a little more confident this time. “Ning Yìzhuo. And you?”

“Coke Boy,” you deadpan, earning a small laugh from her. “Kidding. It’s—”

The door swings open again, cutting you off as a group of rowdy patrons stumbles in, disrupting the peaceful bubble you’d been sharing. Ningning’s shoulders tense immediately, her fingers tightening around her glass. You can tell she’s debating whether to stay or bolt.

You lean closer, your voice low. “Don’t worry. They’re harmless. Plus, I’ve got your back.”

She looks at you, her eyes searching your face for something—reassurance, maybe. And whatever she finds there seems to calm her, if only a little. She nods, taking another sip of her Coke.

You don’t know why, but you can already tell she’s going to stay with you longer than just tonight. Something about her feels significant, like a spark of lightning caught in a jar. Quiet, shy, and utterly captivating.

—

The weeks bleed into one another, and before you know it, Ning is a fixture at the bar. Not officially, of course. She doesn’t work here, doesn’t drink much, and always leaves by midnight like Cinderella with a self-imposed curfew. But she’s here. Three nights a week, like clockwork, perching on her usual stool and ordering her usual Coke, sometimes daring to live dangerously with a Sprite.

At first, you thought she came because it was quiet, because she needed a place to escape whatever stresses her life held. But it’s become increasingly clear that the bar’s charm isn’t the only thing pulling her back. It’s you. And you’re not mad about it.

Tonight, she’s dressed like she always is—effortlessly cool in her slightly oversized sweater, rolled-up jeans, and her beat-up Doc Martens. Her leather jacket is slung over the back of the stool, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders like ink. She’s got her sketchbook with her tonight, the same one she’s been carrying for weeks. You’ve seen glimpses of the drawings—sketches of people, abstract swirls, the occasional cat—but she guards it like it contains state secrets, never letting you get a proper look.

“What are you working on this time?” you ask, leaning on the counter with the practiced nonchalance of a bartender-slash-business-student who definitely isn’t secretly invested in whatever she’s drawing.

She glances up from her page, cat-like eyes sparkling under the warm glow of the bar’s lights. “Nothing special. Just doodling.”

“That’s what you said last time,” you point out, reaching for a clean glass to wipe down. “And then you showed me that sketch of that old guy in the corner, and it looked like something out of a museum. You can admit it, Ning—you’re talented.”

She ducks her head, a faint blush creeping up her neck. “It’s not that good.”

“Sure,” you deadpan, “and I’m not the best bartender in this city.”

She laughs—a soft, melodic sound that you’ve started to look forward to more than you’d like to admit. “You’re not even the best bartender in this bar.”

You feign offense, clutching your chest. “Ouch. And here I thought we were friends.”

“We are friends,” she says, smiling up at you. “Which is why I’m honest with you.”

“Brutally honest,” you correct, smirking. “Fine. Tell me this: do all fine arts students have this much sass, or are you just special?”

“Special,” she says, sticking her tongue out. “And for the record, it’s not fine arts. It’s animation and visual effects. Totally different.”

You nod sagely, as if you know the first thing about animation or visual effects. “Ah, of course. Animation. You’re going to make the next Toy Story, right?”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s grinning. “Something like that. What about you, Mr. Future CEO? Made any spreadsheets cry lately?”

“Every day,” you reply solemnly. “It’s part of the curriculum in business administration. They don’t let you graduate until you’ve traumatized at least three Excel files.”

Her laugh comes easily, her shoulders relaxing as she sips her Coke. She looks comfortable here now, like this place—and you—have become a safe haven for her.

It’s nice.

She’s nice.

“You know,” you say, setting the glass down and leaning closer, “when you first started coming here, I thought you were just using the bar as a library with worse lighting.”

She raises an eyebrow. “And now?”

“Now I think you’re here because you can’t resist my charm.”

She snorts into her drink, nearly choking. “Your charm? Please.”

“Hey, admit it. I make this place bearable for you.”

She tilts her head, pretending to consider. “You do make pretty good jokes.”

“High praise from the queen of sarcasm.”

Her smile softens slightly, the teasing edge in her voice fading. “I just like talking to you. You make things… lighter. Easier to deal with.”

You don’t know what to say to that. It’s rare for her to let her guard down like this, and you feel a sudden, inexplicable urge to keep it safe, to make sure she never regrets being vulnerable.

“Well,” you say, keeping your tone light, “as long as you keep coming back, I’ll keep telling terrible jokes. Deal?”

“Deal,” she says, holding out her hand like you’re signing a legally binding contract.

You shake her hand, her skin warm and soft against yours. There’s a moment—a brief, fleeting moment—where the noise of the bar fades away, and it’s just the two of you. Friends. Companions in this odd little corner of the world.

“By the way,” you add, breaking the moment, “if you ever need a businessperson in one of your animations, I know a guy.”

“Let me guess,” she says, smirking. “He’s incredibly charming and makes terrible jokes?”

“Exactly.”

She laughs again, and for the rest of the night, the bar feels a little brighter.

—

Ning sits cross-legged on her bed, a pencil tucked behind her ear and her sketchbook balanced on her knees. The room is bathed in soft, golden light from the desk lamp Minji insisted on buying, claiming it was better for productivity. Across the room, Minji herself sits at her desk, perfectly upright, fingers flying across the keyboard of her sleek laptop. She looks like a Vogue spread come to life, even in her oversized knit sweater and black leggings, her shiny, straight hair falling effortlessly over her shoulder.

Minji’s skin practically glows, the kind of flawless complexion that makes you wonder if she’s secretly Photoshopped in real life. Her glasses—a stylish, rectangular pair with gold rims—rest perfectly on the bridge of her pointy nose, framing dark, intelligent eyes that seem to miss nothing. Her lips, soft and plump, are painted a subtle pink, just enough to look effortlessly put together. She’s everything Ning isn’t: confident, composed, intimidatingly perfect.

Ning chews on her pencil, staring at her friend’s back. “Hey, Minji?”

“Hm?” Minji doesn’t look up from her screen. She’s probably working on some group project for her international business course. Even in her downtime, Minji is an efficiency machine.

“How do you, like…” Ning hesitates, fiddling with the corner of her sketchbook. “How do you get guys to notice you?”

That gets Minji’s attention. She swivels her chair around, fixing Ning with a look that’s equal parts amused and curious. “What kind of question is that?”

“You know what I mean,” Ning mumbles, heat rising to her cheeks. “You always have a line of guys chasing after you. It’s like… you just exist, and they’re obsessed with you.”

Minji raises an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair. “It’s not like I’m trying to get their attention.”

“That’s exactly my point!” Ning groans, flopping backward onto her bed. “You don’t even try, and they’re all over you. Meanwhile, I could walk into a room naked, and no one would notice.”

“First of all, don’t do that,” Minji says dryly, folding her arms. “Second, you’re exaggerating.”

“I’m really not,” Ning mutters, staring at the ceiling. “You’re like this goddess of elegance or whatever, and I’m just… me. How do you make people like you?”

Minji sighs, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose in that annoyingly perfect way she does. “It’s not about making people like you, Ning. You just have to be yourself.”

Ning sits up, frowning. “That’s so easy for you to say. You’re perfect. People like you without you even trying.”

“I’m not perfect,” Minji says, though the way she says it makes it clear she knows she’s pretty close.

Ning snorts. “Please. You’re gorgeous, you’re smart, you’re the only person I know who actually looks good in those glasses. And don’t get me started on your ‘I just woke up like this’ hair.”

Minji chuckles softly, a sound that somehow feels condescending and comforting at the same time. “Okay, fine. Maybe I have some good qualities. But seriously, Ning, if you want people to notice you, just… put yourself out there.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You’re not shy,” Ning mutters, pulling her knees to her chest.

Minji leans forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “Shy people are fine, but if you never let anyone see who you really are, how are they supposed to notice you?”

“What if who I really am is… shy?” Ning asks, her voice small.

“Then be the best version of shy,” Minji says simply. “Confidence doesn’t mean being loud or outgoing. It just means being comfortable with who you are. People are drawn to that.”

Ning stares at her, skeptical. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not,” Minji admits, brushing a stray hair behind her ear. “But if you don’t at least try, nothing’s going to change. And trust me, you don’t need to change who you are. You just need to stop hiding it.”

Ning chews on her lip, mulling that over. Minji makes it sound logical, like a formula to be solved. But Ning isn’t sure she can simply flip a switch and become “the best version” of herself.

“And if it doesn’t work?” she asks.

Minji shrugs, her lips curling into a faint smile. “Then it’s their loss.”

Ning laughs despite herself, the tension in her chest loosening just a bit. “You’re annoyingly good at this, you know that?”

Minji smirks, turning back to her laptop. “I know. Now stop overthinking and start being fabulous. You’ve got this, Ning.”

Ning watches her friend for a moment longer, a mixture of admiration and frustration swirling in her chest. If Minji says she can do it, maybe she can. But it still feels like an impossible climb.

“Hey, Minji?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

Minji doesn’t turn around, but her voice is warm. “Anytime.”

—

The door to the bar swings open, and in walks Ning with a determined look in her cat-like eyes. She’s wearing a fitted white crop top that shows just a hint of her toned stomach, a plaid mini skirt, and her signature scuffed Doc Martens. Her hair is loose, cascading over her shoulders in soft waves, and there’s a hint of pink gloss on her lips. Tonight, she’s decided, is the night.

No more shy, stammering Ning. Tonight, she’s confident, bold, maybe even flirty. She’s spent the past three days psyching herself up for this moment, replaying Minji’s advice in her head like a mantra. Put yourself out there. Be the best version of yourself. You’ve got this.

The bar is warm and dimly lit as always, the low hum of conversation filling the air. She spots you cleaning a table, laughing at something one of the regulars said, your easy charm on full display. You see Ning and wave to her with a smile. Her heart skips a beat, but she steels herself. You’ve got this, she repeats silently, striding toward the bar.

Or at least, she tries to.

What she doesn’t see, in her single-minded determination, is the bright yellow Wet Floor sign in the middle of the room. Her Doc Martens hit the slick patch of tiles, and suddenly, her confident stride turns into a cartoonish flail.

“Shit—!”

She feels herself going down, her arms pinwheeling as gravity takes over. But just before she hits the ground, a pair of strong hands catch her, one gripping her waist and the other cradling her back.

“You okay?” Your voice is close—too close—and when she blinks up at you, she realizes her face is just inches from yours.

Her heart is pounding, and not just from the near-death experience. Your eyes, warm and concerned, lock onto hers, and she can feel the heat rising in her cheeks. “I—yeah, I’m okay. Thanks.” Her voice comes out quieter than she’d like, all the confidence she’d mustered evaporating on the spot.

You grin, helping her stand upright but keeping a hand on her arm to steady her. “That was a close one. You almost went full slapstick there.”

“Yeah, well, I like to keep things entertaining,” she mumbles, avoiding your gaze. Her ankle twinges as she shifts her weight, and she winces.

“You sure you’re okay?” you ask, noticing the way she’s favoring one foot.

“It’s just my ankle,” she admits. “I think I twisted it a little.”

“Let’s get you off your feet,” you say, guiding her to a booth in the corner. “Come on, sit down.”

“I’m fine, really,” she protests, but you’re already pulling out a chair for her.

Once she’s seated, you crouch down in front of her, gently taking her foot in your hands. “Let me check it out. I can’t have my best customer suing the bar.”

She snorts softly, despite herself. “It’s my fault for not seeing the sign.”

“Well, next time, try looking where you’re going,” you tease, flashing her a grin that makes her heart skip again.

You slide off her boot carefully, your fingers brushing against her ankle. She tries not to shiver at the touch, but it’s impossible. Your hands are warm and firm, and when you start to massage the sore spot, she has to bite her lip to keep from making an embarrassing sound.

“You’re really good at this,” she says, her voice coming out a little breathier than she intended.

“Comes with practice,” you reply, focused on her foot. “My ex used to come home from work with sore feet all the time, so I’d give her massages. Got pretty good at it after a while.”

Ning’s ears perk up at the mention of your ex. “Oh?” she says, trying to sound casual. “What happened there?”

“She was… complicated,” you say, choosing your words carefully. “Kind of jealous. Possessive. A little manic, honestly.” You pause, then chuckle, shaking your head. “I guess I have a type. Crazy girls seem to find me.”

She swallows hard, caught off guard. “Is that why you’re single now?”

“Pretty much,” you admit, still massaging her ankle. “Taking a break from relationships for a while. Thought I’d give myself some peace and quiet, you know?”

Ning’s heart sinks, though she forces a smile. “Makes sense. Less drama.”

“Exactly,” you say, glancing up at her with a grin. “And besides, who needs a girlfriend when I’ve got customers like you to keep me company?”

She laughs softly, but it feels hollow in her chest. She watches as you go back to massaging her foot, completely unaware of the tiny heartbreak you’ve just caused. But she doesn’t say anything.

Because Minji’s words echo in her head: Be the best version of yourself. And tonight, the best version of herself is just a good friend. Nothing more, nothing less.

—

The dorm bathroom is small, humid, and filled with the faint scent of citrus-scented body wash. The door is open, so the fragrance invades the whole bedroom. The overhead light flickers faintly, casting a soft glow over the scene. Minji stands by the sink in nothing but a pale lavender bra and matching underwear, her skin luminous under the harsh fluorescent light. She’s methodically applying lotion to her arms, her long, straight hair pushed over one shoulder to avoid smearing it. Every movement she makes is precise, deliberate, like everything else about her.

Ning is by the closet, half-dressed, rifling through her limited wardrobe with a furrowed brow. She’s wearing an oversized graphic tee that hangs off one shoulder, exposing the curve of her collarbone and the straps of her bralette. Her plaid pajama shorts are crumpled, a stark contrast to Minji’s immaculate appearance.

“Can I ask you something?” Minji’s voice cuts through the quiet hum of the room, soft but with that unmistakable edge of curiosity.

Ning freezes, her fingers lingering on the hem of a black skirt she’s debating on. “Uh, sure. What’s up?”

Minji finishes with her arms and moves on to her legs, bending one knee and propping her foot up on the closed toilet lid. Her movements are unhurried, as if the question isn’t a big deal. “Where do you go every week? At night, I mean.”

She glances over her shoulder, her face warming under Minji’s unreadable gaze. “Nowhere. Just… out.”

“Nowhere?” Minji’s lips curve in a faint smile as she straightens up, tilting her head slightly. Her sharp, dark eyes scan Ning, taking in the flush on her cheeks, the way her fingers fidget with the fabric of her skirt. “That doesn’t sound like nowhere.”

“I mean it’s not anywhere in particular,” Ning mumbles, turning back to the closet. She grabs a random top to busy her hands, hoping Minji will let it go.

But Minji doesn’t let things go. “Ning,” she says, her voice calm but insistent. “You’ve been going out at least twice a week for the past month. You get dressed up, come back late, and you never say where you’ve been. It’s weird, because it's not something you used to do.”

Ning turns around, clutching the top against her chest like a shield. “It’s not weird.”

Minji quirks an eyebrow, her lips twitching as if she’s holding back a laugh. “You don’t think so? Because to me, it looks like you’re sneaking off to see someone.”

“I’m not!” Ning’s voice rises slightly in protest, her face turning a deeper shade of pink. She tosses the top onto the bed and grabs her sketchbook from the desk. “Look, I take this with me, okay? How could I be seeing a boy if I’m bringing this?”

Minji’s eyes drop to the sketchbook, then lift back to Ning’s face, skeptical but intrigued. “I don’t know. Art students have strange habits. Maybe you’re sketching him while you’re there.”

Ning groans, plopping onto the bed and flipping the sketchbook open to a random page. “It’s not like that. There’s a bar I go to. It’s… quiet, and it helps with creativity.”

“Creativity,” Minji repeats, crossing her arms as she leans against the sink. Her hair falls perfectly over one shoulder, her glasses catching the light just enough to make her look like a chic librarian. “That’s your story?”

“Yes!” Ning huffs, holding up the sketchbook like it’s evidence in a trial. “See? Just sketches. No boys, no dates, nothing like that.”

Minji steps closer, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studies Ning’s face. “So you’re telling me you sit at a bar all night, alone, with your sketchbook? That’s it?”

“Well…” Ning hesitates, her fingers gripping the edges of the book. “There’s this bartender I talk to sometimes. But he’s just a friend.”

“A friend.” Minji’s voice is flat, but there’s a glint of amusement in her eyes. “What’s his name?”

“Does it matter?” Ning mutters, ducking her head.

“Probably not,” Minji replies, her tone maddeningly casual. “But now everything is even more suspicious.”

Ning sighs, flipping the sketchbook closed. “Oh, whatever! He’s the bartender. We talk. That’s it.”

“And you’re just friends?”

“Yes.” Ning’s voice is firm, but her cheeks betray her with their telltale blush.

Minji watches her for a moment longer, then does something that catches Ning completely off guard. She smiles. Not her usual poised, mysterious smile, but something softer.

“Can I go too?”

Ning blinks, sure she’s misheard. “What?”

“To the bar,” Minji says, stepping closer until she’s standing right in front of Ning. “If it’s so great for creativity, I want to see it.”

“You want to go to the bar?” Ning asks, her voice incredulous. “The one I go to?”

“Why not?” Minji shrugs, grabbing her towel and tossing it into the laundry basket. “It’s not a date, right? If you’re just hanging out with a friend, I don’t see why I can’t come along.”

Ning stares at her, unsure whether to laugh or panic. “Are you serious?”

Minji leans down slightly, her glasses sliding down her nose as she meets Ning’s wide-eyed gaze. “Dead serious.”

“But…” Ning struggles to find a reason, any reason, why this is a terrible idea. “What about your coursework? You’re always busy.”

Minji straightens up, brushing her hair over her shoulder with practiced ease. “I can spare a night. Besides,” she adds, smirking, “I want to meet this ‘just a friend’ of yours.”

Minji’s calm confidence is both reassuring and terrifying. She knows Minji means well, but she also knows her friend. Minji doesn’t just show up. She observes.

Still, it’s hard to say no when Minji looks at her like that, her dark eyes steady and full of quiet determination.

“Okay,” Ning says finally. “You can come.”

Minji smiles, a triumphant glint in her eye. “Great. I’ll get ready.”

As Minji walks away, Ning flops back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling. This was supposed to be simple. Just her, the bar, and a chance to take things slow with you.

Now?

She has no idea what’s about to happen.

—

The bar’s hum is steady but quiet tonight, soft music playing from the jukebox, mingling with the low murmur of scattered conversations. You’re behind the counter, wiping down glasses and vaguely thinking about the economics lecture you skipped today when the door swings open.

You look up instinctively, and there she is—Ning. Except she’s not alone.

Ning walks in first, a bundle of energy in her casual but cool outfit: a cropped black sweater that shows just a hint of her toned stomach, paired with loose cargo pants that sit snug on her hips, and her ever-present Doc Martens. She looks great—like she always does—but it’s the girl walking in behind her that makes your breath catch.

Minji.

She’s dressed simply—an elegant cream blouse tucked into high-waisted, dark-wash jeans that make her legs look impossibly long. Her black hair falls in a sleek curtain down her back, and she’s wearing the kind of gold-rimmed glasses that make other people look like try-hards but somehow make her look even more stunning. There’s something about her presence—poised but approachable, with a quiet confidence that fills the room—that makes it hard to look away.

“Hey!” Ning’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts as she practically bounces over to the counter. She gestures enthusiastically toward her companion. “This is my best friend, Minji. You’ll love her.”

You recover quickly, setting the glass down and offering a smile. “Hey, Minji. Nice to meet you.”

Minji steps forward, her smile polite but warm. “Nice to meet you too. Ning comes here every week, I got curious and realized I needed to see it myself.”

You nod, trying not to seem too obvious as you take her in. “Well, welcome. Hope it lives up to the hype.”

Ning slides onto her usual stool, pulling out her sketchbook like it’s just another normal night. “He’s being modest. It’s the coolest place ever. And the bartender’s alright, I guess.”

You smirk at her teasing but find yourself glancing back at Minji. “What can I get you two?”

“The usual for me,” Ning says, flipping through the pages of her sketchbook.

“And for you?” you ask Minji.

She tilts her head slightly, considering. “Something light. I don’t drink much—health reasons.”

“Got it.” You start preparing the drinks, glancing at her again. “If you don’t mind me asking, health reasons?”

Ning's Coke is ready in moments, she takes a sip absentmindedly as she looks at her sketchbook.

“I have a heart condition,” she says casually, like she’s used to explaining it. “Nothing too serious, but I can’t really handle strong drinks.”

“Fair enough,” you say, sliding the glass across the counter toward her. “This should be light enough.”

She takes a sip, her lips curving into a small smile. “Perfect. Thanks.”

Ning, who’s been scribbling something in her sketchbook, looks up suddenly. “Minji has been really nosy lately, she wouldn't leave me alone until I brought her here, she's never done this before.”

“Oh yeah?” you say, raising an eyebrow at Minji. “Was she really that mysterious about it?”

Minji laughs softly, setting her drink down. “You have no idea. She’d leave without saying much, come back late, and when I’d ask where she was, she’d just shrug and say ‘out.’” She glances at Ning, her tone amused. “It was suspicious.”

Ning groans dramatically. “It wasn’t suspicious! I just didn’t feel like explaining.”

“Well, I’m glad you brought her along tonight,” you say, smiling at Minji. “It’s nice to meet one of Ning’s friends.”

“Best friend,” Ning corrects, nudging Minji with her elbow. “We’ve known each other forever.”

Minji chuckles. “She’s exaggerating. It’s only been a few years. But yeah, we’ve been through a lot together.”

You lean against the counter, genuinely curious. “How’d you two meet?”

“Orientation,” Minji says, glancing at Ning.

“At first I thought she was snobbish for being so serious."

“And I thought you looked like a troublemaker,” Minji counters, her eyes sparkling with humor.

You can’t help but laugh at their banter. “So, Minji, what are you studying?”

“International business,” she says, adjusting her glasses slightly. “What about you?”

“Business administration,” you reply, and her face lights up with interest.

“Oh, really? That’s great. What year are you in?”

“Third,” you say. “It’s not as glamorous as international business, but it keeps me busy.”

“It’s not glamorous,” Minji says with a small smile. “But it’s practical. And honestly, that’s more important.”

You nod, impressed by her straightforwardness. “So what made you choose international business?”

She takes another sip of her drink, her expression thoughtful. “I guess I like the idea of understanding how things work on a global scale. It’s a challenge, but I enjoy it.”

Ning, who’s been quiet for a moment, suddenly speaks up. “She’s being humble. She’s the smartest person I know. She even helps me figure out my art projects sometimes.”

Minji shrugs, clearly a little embarrassed. “I just give her feedback. She’s the real talent.”

You glance at Ning, your curiosity piqued. “What kind of feedback?”

“She helps me refine ideas,” Ning says, twirling her pencil. “Like, if I’m stuck on a concept, she’ll point out things I didn’t think of. It’s annoying how good she is at it.”

Minji rolls her eyes, but there’s a hint of affection in her expression. “It’s not that hard. I just have an outside perspective.”

“Well, it sounds like you two make a good team,” you say, genuinely impressed by their dynamic.

Minji smiles, her gaze lingering on you for a second longer than you expect. “We do. But I think I understand why Ning likes coming here now. It’s… nice.”

“Yeah,” Ning chimes in, her voice a little softer. “It is.”

The three of you fall into an easy rhythm after that, talking and laughing like old friends. But every now and then, you catch yourself glancing at Minji, wondering what it is about her that feels so… magnetic.

—

The bar has never been livelier for you, not because of an influx of customers but because Ning and Minji have made it their unofficial hangout spot. At first, it was a bit surreal—Ning showing up with her best friend in tow, bright-eyed and eager to introduce her to her favorite bartender. But over the next few weeks, it becomes routine.

Monday Night

Ning and Minji arrive together, as they always do. Ning’s dressed in her usual casual style—cropped sweatshirt, ripped jeans, and her trusty Doc Martens—while Minji looks effortlessly polished in a tailored blazer over a white camisole and straight-leg pants.

“Usual?” you ask Ning, already reaching for the soda gun.

“Of course,” she says, hopping onto her usual stool.

“And for you?” you ask Minji.

“I’ll take the same thing as last time,” she says, her smile easy. “That drink was great.”

You get to work, sliding the Coke over to Ning and preparing Minji’s light cocktail. “So, how’s the week been treating you two?”

“Terrible,” Ning groans dramatically, opening her sketchbook. “I’m behind on like, three projects.”

Minji snorts, glancing at Ning over the rim of her glass. “That’s because you spent the entire weekend rewatching Spirited Away instead of working.”

“It was research!” Ning protests, flipping through her sketches. “It’s a masterpiece!”

You chuckle, leaning on the bar. “She’s got a point. Spirited Away is definitely worth rewatching.”

Minji raises an eyebrow. “I don’t disagree. But maybe she could balance her research with her deadlines.”

The two of you share a laugh, and Ning pouts.

“You’re both nerds,” she mutters, earning a grin from you.

“Guilty as charged,” you say, raising a random glass in a mock toast.

Wednesday Night

Tonight, Minji’s in a soft blue sweater that matches her dark-rimmed glasses, her hair swept back in a loose braid. Ning looks a little tired, probably from pulling an all-nighter.

“You look like death,” Minji observes bluntly as they sit down.

“Gee, thanks,” Ning says, dropping onto the stool and slumping over the counter.

“You okay?” you ask, sliding her a Coke without waiting for her order.

“Just tired,” Ning mumbles, sipping her drink.

Minji tilts her head at you. “So, did you finish that econ paper you mentioned last time?”

You perk up, surprised she remembered. “Yeah, just barely. Turns out writing about financial markets at two in the morning isn’t fun.”

“I could’ve told you that,” Minji says, her lips curving into a small smile. “But I bet you still nailed it.”

Ning watches the exchange, feeling a pang of something she can’t quite name. She clears her throat. “Hey, can we talk about something not boring?”

“Sure,” you say, turning to her. “What’s on your mind?”

“Aliens,” Ning declares, grinning. “Do you think they exist?”

Minji sighs. “Oh god, not this again.”

You laugh, genuinely amused. “Honestly? I hope so. Would make the universe a lot more interesting.”

Ning beams, satisfied, while Minji shakes her head. “This is why she likes coming here,” Minji says dryly. “You encourage her nonsense.”

“Hey,” you protest, “it’s not nonsense. It’s curiosity.”

Minji chuckles, and Ning feels a little less out of place.

Friday Night

The bar is slightly busier, but the two of them still manage to snag their usual seats. Minji looks radiant in a sleek black blouse and gold hoop earrings, her makeup subtle but flawless. Ning, in her oversized hoodie and her Doc Martens looks comfortable but feels distinctly underdressed next to her friend.

“You look nice tonight,” you say to Minji as you hand her drink over.

“Thanks,” she replies, her voice calm and self-assured. “Ning practically dragged me out of the dorm, so I figured I’d make an effort.”

“You’re welcome,” Ning says with mock pride.

“So,” Minji says, turning to you, “tell me more about your business classes. Do you focus on entrepreneurship or management?”

“A little of both,” you reply, leaning on the counter. “Right now, we’re working on case studies about startups.”

“Oh, I love those,” Minji says, her eyes lighting up. “Which case studies are you doing?”

As you dive into the topic, Ning finds herself zoning out. The conversation is engaging—Minji is clearly knowledgeable, and you seem genuinely interested in what she has to say—but it’s not her world. She fiddles with her straw, feeling invisible as the two of you talk animatedly about market trends and business strategies.

Eventually, she clears her throat. “Hey, do you think they’d let me draw on the walls here?”

Both of you turn to her, surprised.

“I mean, this place could use some art,” she says, grinning.

“Go for it,” you say, laughing. “Just don’t tell my boss I approved it.”

Minji chuckles softly, shaking her head. “You’re hopeless.”

“Hopelessly creative,” Ning corrects, feeling a little more grounded again.

Sunday Night

The bar is nearly empty, the quiet hum of the jukebox filling the space. Ning is doodling absently in her sketchbook, while Minji sips her drink and chats with you.

“So, what do you do for fun?” Minji asks, her tone light but genuinely curious.

“Work, mostly,” you admit. “But when I have time, I like hiking. Clears my head.”

“I didn’t peg you as the outdoorsy type,” she says, a hint of teasing in her voice.

You shrug. “Gotta balance all the business talk with something peaceful.”

Ning glances up from her sketchbook, watching the two of you. There’s something about the way Minji leans slightly forward when she talks to you, the way her smile lingers a little longer.

“Do you hike?” you ask Minji.

“Sometimes,” she says. “But only when Ning drags me along.”

“Hey, I make hiking fun,” Ning protests, jumping back into the conversation.

“You complain the whole time,” Minji points out, smirking.

“Because you always pick the hardest trails!”

You laugh, the sound warm and genuine. “I’d pay to see that.”

“Next time, you’re coming with us,” Minji says.

Ning blinks, caught off guard by the suggestion. She glances between you and Minji, unsure how to feel about the way this strange triangle is starting to form.

As the night winds down, the three of you settle into a comfortable rhythm, but Ning can’t shake the feeling that something is shifting—slowly, subtly, but undeniably.

—

The three of you have fallen into a strange, unspoken routine—meeting up not just at the bar but beyond it, like some evolving trio of mismatched energy. It feels natural, at least on the surface, even if Ning occasionally finds herself analyzing every interaction, dissecting every glance and laugh.

Tonight, you’re at the movies, sitting in a darkened theater. Ning insisted on watching the latest animated film, claiming it was "research" for her art, though the truth is she just really loves animated movies. You and Minji went along with it, no complaints. Ning sits between you and Minji, a giant bucket of popcorn balanced precariously on her lap.

Halfway through the movie, she notices how Minji leans slightly toward you, sharing whispered comments about the plot. Ning can’t quite hear what you’re saying, but the low rumble of your laugh makes her feel strangely uncomfortable.

“Pass the popcorn,” you murmur, your hand brushing Ning’s as you reach for the bucket.

She stiffens slightly, then relaxes. “Here. Don’t eat all the good pieces.”

“You’re weirdly protective of popcorn,” you tease, taking a handful.

“Popcorn hierarchy is a real thing,” she replies, smirking. But her voice sounds hollow to her own ears.

Minji chuckles, leaning closer. “She’s serious about it. She once bit my hand when I took the last caramel piece.”

“I did not bite you!” Ning protests, her cheeks flushing.

Minji glances at you, her smile lingering. “She absolutely did.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I believe it.”

The sound of your laugh sends a pang through Ning’s chest. She knows it’s stupid, knows she’s overthinking. But the way you and Minji interact—effortless, like equals—feels different.

Later That Week

The three of you are at a college basketball game, seated in the bleachers. It was your idea this time, a way to do something “normal and fun” after a week of classes. Ning, determined to feel confident, showed up in a cropped tank top and tight jeans, her makeup more pronounced than usual.

But as the game goes on, she notices the subtle ways you treat her. When she trips on the bleachers, you catch her arm, laughing softly. “Careful, kid. Don’t want you breaking something.”

“Kid?” she echoes, raising an eyebrow. “I’m literally an adult.”

“Barely,” you tease, ruffling her hair in a way that makes her want to scream.

Meanwhile, when Minji leans over to ask you something, your tone shifts. It’s subtle, but Ning catches it. You’re attentive, leaning slightly closer, your voice quieter. When Minji laughs at something you say, it’s like the whole world fades out for a second, leaving just the two of you.

Ning fiddles with her phone, pretending not to notice.

At one point, Minji turns to her. “Hey, are you okay? You’ve been really quiet.”

“I’m fine,” Ning says quickly, forcing a smile. “Just… not a huge basketball fan.”

Minji studies her for a moment but doesn’t press. She turns back to you, asking something about the game. Ning doesn’t bother listening.

The Bar, One Week Later

It’s a typical slow night, the kind you’ve come to expect when it’s not the weekend. You’re behind the counter, wiping down glasses and occasionally glancing at the door out of habit. When it swings open, you look up, expecting to see Ning and Minji together as usual.

But it’s just Minji.

She steps inside, her presence as poised as ever. She’s wearing a fitted black turtleneck and a sleek gray coat, her hair tucked neatly behind her ears. There’s a calm confidence in the way she walks, like she owns the space without even trying.

“Hey,” you say, smiling as she approaches the bar. “Where’s Ning?”

“She’s sick,” Minji replies, sliding onto one of the stools. “It’s just me tonight.”

There's a hint of excitement in her voice, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond. The absence of Ning—her usual energy, her playful remarks—feels strange. But Minji’s presence is undeniable, grounding.

“Just you,” you repeat, setting a glass on the counter. “Alright. What can I get you?”

Minji smiles, a small, knowing curve of her lips. “Surprise me.”

part 3

[pintobug]

maintenance

joel miller X reader

chapter 1: housewarming

rating: 18+ MDNI

masterlist

summary: joel is the maintenance man at your new apartment.

word count: > 5.8k

tags: no outbreak!joel x fem!reader, age gap (reader is about 24, joel is about 45.) drinking, party atmosphere, being hungover

a/n: hi guys <3 dropping new writing. hope its okay. i’m already working on the second chapter. i’m excited to write these guys! not sure when the second chapter will be finished.

It's warm out. It’s not the sticky, slick, late summer heat, yet. It’s May in Texas, the cool breezes aren't cool anymore, just warm air pushing around.

What is cool is the granite countertop beneath your bare feet. You’re standing on the kitchen island, cleaning the light fixture above you.

“Didn’t they say they cleaned this place before you got the keys?” You grumble, annoyed.

Ellie set the last moving box down with a groan, leaning against the arched door frame and looking up to you.

“I guess not up to your standards, huh?” Ellie laughs breathily, wiping the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand.

You frowned.

More than half of the apartment hasn’t been unpacked yet. Unopened boxes, towels in the wrong rooms, the broken lamp you told your dad you didn’t want leaning in the corner of the room.

Ellie walks further into the kitchen, grabbing a small speaker from her backpack, setting it near your feet on the counter. She whips her phone from her shorts, scrolling through it. A song bubbles quietly from the speaker. Ellie reaches over and turns it up, a smile working its way across her lips.

“Ya know what I say?” Ellie projects over the music, light on her feet as she starts bouncing to it.

You turn to look over your shoulder, both hands still on the light fixture, trying to scrub whatever the fuck is plastered to it. You don’t answer because she begins again.

“I say we throw a party so loud it scares the dust out of the ceiling.” She dances loosely over to you, standing just below you now, preening up to you.

“Full fuckin’ reset!” She shouts.

You side eye her.

“And attract our first noise complaint?” You say just loud enough over the music, dropping your arms from the light.

You turn to face her, still standing on the counter top.

Ellie turns the music down a few notches, so you’re able to have a conversation without straining over it.

“Exactly. Then we can weed out the snitch neighbors.” She says with a wide grin.

You can’t argue, Ellie knows that.

“Friday?” She raises her eyebrows.

“Better start unboxing this shit.” You say, gesturing to the boxes.

Ellie beams, nods her head and turns the music up again. She turns and picks up a box with a grunt, then tosses her head back and sings loudly to the song spilling out of the speaker.

You watched her walk off, shaking your head while smiling to yourself.

You and Ellie had moved into your new apartment just off campus almost a week ago, at the end of your finals week of your junior year. Now, the both of you finally got everything squared away, finals done, furniture put together, clothes put away, artwork hung up and all the plants you two could fit in here. You even built up the courage to finally toss the broken lamp your dad gave you.

It’s 10pm, Friday.

The music is loud.

You could feel the cool material of the counter through your thin top. It was cropped just below your navel, a frilly finish on the hem around your waist, neck and the end of the capped sleeves. Your dark jeans hugged your thighs and flared around your ankles.

You’re leaning against the kitchen island you were standing on a few days ago, watching Ellie grab Dina in the living room, pulling her close and dancing. They were in their own little world. You smiled while watching them.

Your friends, classmates and some people you didn’t recognize crowded around them, around you. It no longer feels like your place. It barely felt like your place before all these people packed themselves in. You and Ellie had barely been here a week. You haven’t been here long enough to call this place home. But you’re trying.

Your attempt at trying, was seeing how many drinks you could down tonight. You’re doing a damn good job so far.

The way your shoes were sticking to the floor made you cringe. You were close enough to the speaker that it vibrated your diaphragm. You didn’t know if it was the bass making your eyes blur, or the drinks. Or maybe it was the copious amounts of fucking fruit flavored vapor hanging low in the air, stagnant and hot. The cracked windows are not doing anything. The air outside was stagnant and hot, too. You scrunch your face up and coughed as a fresh cloud curled around your head. God, this mango flavored whatever-the-fuck made your eyes feel heavy.

You must have had a scowl on your face, Ellies hand on your shoulder rips you from spacing out into the living room.

“You okay?” She leans in and also shouts directly in your ear.

You swallow thickly and nod your head. There's a lag between your brain and your body right now.

“You need a shot.” She states, working at some bottles beside you.

Your ankle is wet. What the fuck. You furrow your eyebrows and peer down to the slosh of vodka by your foot, it splashed up and wet your sock. You frowned deeply. Was Ellie the one soaking the ground all night making your shoes stick to it? You groaned her name and tossed your head back. She didn’t pay your reaction any mind as she nudged your shoulder, holding out the plastic shot cup, clear liquid spilling over the rim.

“Full fuckin’ reset.” She says loudly and nods her head for you to take it.

“Full fuckin’ reset.” You repeat, taking the cup in your fingers and touching it with Ellies before tossing it back.

You both grimaced as you swallowed. You hissed through your teeth as it burned your throat. Ellie shuddered and shook her head rapidly. Ellie took the cups and tossed them away, coming in close to your ear, hand on your shoulder again. You had no idea what she was saying. You only knew she was speaking because of her hot breath on your skin. Your eyes felt like they were going to fall out of your head, that's how close you were to the speaker.

All you could think about was that this didn’t feel like a full fuckin’ reset. Feels like you’re changing your environment with the same old bullshit. You imagine this is how your childhood hamster felt when you’d rearrange his cage. Same bullshit, different colorful tunnel to get stuck in.

She pulled away and looked at you knowingly, raised eyebrows and nodded her head.

You blinked.

Ellie didn’t move. Her face was blurry in front of you.

Oh, she was waiting for a response.

You press your lips together in a tight smile and nod your head lazily, the movement making you feel airy. She smiled and patted your shoulder, giving you a squeeze before disappearing back into the group of people in the living room.

You didn’t know if it was the burning liquid at the back of your throat making you gag, or the way Owen stared you down from just a few feet away. He got under your skin badly. You shared several classes with him over the past three years and he's managed to piss you off at almost every interaction. He isn’t rude, or an outward asshole. He just can’t take a hint. You are not interested.

“This is a nice spot, hm?” Owen slurs, leaning in close.

There it is. The culprit of that fucking mango scented shit. God, it was heavy on his lips.

You held back a grimace to be polite.

“Yeah.” You say, deadpan.

“Y’know what I like about you?” He says, leaning closer

Here we go.

You tilt your head up and look at him. Fuck, you were drunk and he was still unappealing to you. Your body swayed. Heavy lids hanging low over your eyes. You crossed your arms over your chest to give you some sort of grounding. You didn’t feel unsafe with him standing so close. You just wish he wasn’t.

You didn’t answer him, maybe he feels the vibe. But then he opened his dumb mouth again.

“You always look like you’re thinking ‘bout something like.. Waaaay cooler than whatever's happening like- right now.”

Okay. You were drunk. But what the fuck did he just say? You were going to ask him to clarify. But maybe you are that drunk and what he said really made sense. You wore your confusion on your face, clearly. Because he followed up with-

“You know?”

No, I don’t fucking know. You shrugged your shoulders, brows knitting together.

“Probably ‘cause I am.” You finally settle on that answer.

Don’t know if it makes sense. You don’t think it needs to make sense to him. Owen smiles, wide and nods his head.

“Hell yeah.” He says and moves to put his arm around you and lean against the counter with you.

You shudder.

Hell no.

You don’t mean to be cold. You’re tired. You also haven’t been touched in months. You didn’t want just anyone to be the one to break that silence. Maybe you were a little picky, you’d admit that.

You push yourself off the counter on wobbly legs. You were so focused on what he was trying saying you forgot about the spinning room behind him. You twist behind you and grab the remaining bottle of vodka on the counter and a red solo cup.

You watch Owens face twist up in confusion as you walk away, slipping past other bodies in hopes to lose him. You don’t feel like babysitting dumb boy feelings anymore. You want to be drunk on the couch and- oh! There's Jesse.

His face lights up when he sees you stumble over. You stop in front of him and smile lazily.

“‘Sup.” He says, holding up his cup to you.

“Hey.” You respond, reaching your cup to cheer with him before taking a swig of straight vodka and grimacing.

You collapse on the couch beside him.

“Hey- are you drinking? Aren’t you supposed to be driving people?” You say, locking in and trying to concentrate, concern writing over your face.

He chuckled at your expression and nodded his head.

“Just water, don’t worry.” He said.

You nodded your head and pursed your lips, sinking into the couch

Jesse was good people. Dina brought him around maybe two years ago and he's kind of just been around since then. He's like a big brother, kind of. He's always just there, brooding with a pouty face on. He is a safe space.

Your arms were cold. Body felt like it was swaying side to side, though the last time you checked you were still slumped into the couch with Jesse. Your eyes were heavy.

You think Ellie and Dina were standing before you. You smiled sleepily, head buzzing loudly. The music is pulsing in your ears, but you can no longer make out the words of the song. The colorful lights Ellie had set up really made it feel like a club setting, you almost forgot you were sitting on your couch. Ohh, the couch. It's so comfortable. You could melt into it right now. Your body felt like jello. Hand slack around the neck of the vodka bottle. Your head bobbed when you turned it towards Jesse. He was gesturing to you, you think. Who is he talking to? Oh right. The two blobs in front of you, shaped like Ellie and Dina. Except there's like three of them right now, and your eyes won’t focus on the real ones. Then all three of them are looking at you. It sounds like your head is submerged in water. All of the sounds are slow and billowing. You open your eyes as wide as you can, they are so damn heavy. Dina is snapping her hand very close to your face, the outline of her hand clear compared to the blurred background. You screw your eyes shut and shake your head. You open them again and- fuck. Still blurry. All of the sound comes rushing back in, like pulling your head from out of the water and it's ten times louder and clear again. It was overwhelming and it made you anxious. You frown and look at the three of them.

“I need to go to bed.” You slur.

It wasn’t a demand, or a request. A statement. Everything feels like it's tilted, like one of those fair houses that makes you feel like Dorothy from Wizard of Oz. Hands are grabbing you, wrapping around your arms. You don’t fight them, because they feel familiar. They stand you up. You comply because you are too wobbly to protest. Bed. You think. Strong hands, take me to bed.

Dina and Ellie take a step back. Ellie can barely contain her amusement as she watches Jesse manhandle you off the couch.

“If you get her up there I’ll babysit.” Dina tells him.

Ellie shakes her head, a sympathetic smile on her face.

Strong hands listened. You recognize the smell of your sheets. You can still feel the speaker through the mattress.

“She’s all yours.” Jesse pretends to wipe his hands clean.

“Thanks.” Dina murmurs while sitting on the edge of your bed.

You’re mumbling nonsense and Dina coo's, understandingly while pushing your hair away from your face.

“Just- go to bed.”

You do.

Your head weighs about 500 pounds.

“C’mon.”

Your eyelids are just as heavy.

“I gotta go. Need you to get up.”

There's a sick taste in the back of your throat. You swallow thickly.

Your name is shouted loudly, way too close to your face, you felt the heat of their breath against your clammy skin.

Your eyes shot open, bringing both of your hands to quickly cover your face from the blinding light.

“I was about a minute away from tossing whatever the fuck is in this cup at you y’know.”

“Okay- okay.” You mumble, voice raspy.

You rubbed the back of your hands against your eyes, letting them adjust. Ellie stood in front of you, eyebrows lifted in amusement as she watched you struggle.

“Oh, this is great.” She muses.

“Please- I feel disgusting.” You say with a lump in your throat, glancing at your alarm clock. “It’s 5 in the morning. I feel like I just went to bed. What is going on?”

“You don’t remember what I told you last night?”

You prop yourself onto your elbows, sinking them into your mattress. You blink your eyes at your roommate. She has a jacket on, backpack over one shoulder and her sneakers in hand. You do not remember what she told you. You shake your head ‘no’ and immediately wince at the throb radiating between your ears.

“You’re a mess.” Ellie chuckles and sucks her teeth at you.

You frown at her and sigh, hanging your head back between your shoulders.

“It’s not funny, Ellie. Are you goin’ somewhere?” You ask as you use all of the energy in your body to lift your head back up.

“Dina? I’m going to visit her family.” Ellie stands, her one hand turning palm up towards you, attitude and all.

“Oh shit.” You frown and pull yourself to fully sit up, slouching heavily, resting your elbows on your bare thighs.

“Yeah. She's picking me up soon. I got up a bit ago and cleaned what I could, but not going to lie it still looks like a shit show.”

“Mhm.” You hum, trying to remember last night.

It was a great time, maybe. This morning is not so great. You drank entirely too much. Enough to forget that Ellie was leaving for almost a month. Dina has had this trip planned for almost six months. She has been begging Ellie to come back to her hometown and spend time with her family. They agreed once finals were done, they’d spend time there, leaving today.

Fuck, you feel like you got hit by a truck. Few too many vodka sodas and whatever else ended up in your cup after that, you can’t remember. This feeling is something you can't forget though, it is god awful.

“How bad is it?” You mumble, trying to fix your hair to look somewhat normal.

“Well, think I got the worst of it done. Scrubbed the motherfucking puke from the sink.” She says, scrunching her face at the thought while digging through your desk, shoving some acne patches in her jacket pocket. You’re in too much discomfort to chastise her theft, she knows it too.

“Thinking of that makes me wanna puke.”

Ellie looks over her shoulder and smiles at you.

“Yeah, you don’t look good. But should just be some trash. Nothing insane. Ushered out two stragglers this morning. Remember that kid from our study hall freshman year? He was behind the fucking couch!” She tosses her head back to laugh.

“Oh- that's for you by the way.” She gestures to your side table.

You force a smile while pulling yourself out of bed, feet planting on the ground heavily. Your eyes widened at the sight of a fresh water bottle at your bedside. You moaned as you practically ripped the cap off and chugged half of it.

“Easy, killer.” Ellie jokes.

You swallow and release a loud breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“God, you’re the best.” You tell her.

It took longer than you’d like to admit to get downstairs. You made it, nonetheless. Big enough t-shirt to hide that fact that you did have shorts on. Mismatched socks adorning your feet. No idea how you ended up in this. You faintly recall Dina shushing you to sleep at some point. Maybe she helped you change into more comfy clothes. You’ve finally tamed your hair to look somewhat presentable. It was good enough to throw trash into bags and die on the couch afterwards.

Ellie helped you pick up some of the cups around before perking up at the sound of Dina’s car horn outside the house.

“Try not to die while I’m gone. The maintenance guy is coming by soon. Just let him in the basement, yeah?” Ellie calls out with one hand on the front doorknob.

You tie off the second full trash bag and nod your head, waving Ellie off.

“Just what I need. Some guy poking around while I feel like shit.” You sigh.

“Be safe! Love you!” You call out after her.

“Yeah, try not to die while I’m gone.. Love you, too. Text me!” She says, closing the door behind her.

It's only just past 10 AM and this has to be the tenth trash bag you have tied. You don't even know where half of this trash came from, there is no way this many beers were consumed, or this many cups were used. Dragging the bag behind you, you unlocked the back door and swung the bag out into the pile of the rest of them, mumbling to yourself that you'll deal with that another day. You lock the door behind you and rush to the sink to wash your hands, sticky residue on them making your stomach churn.

You sigh as you dry them and turn to the living room, eyes settling on the couch. It looks too good right now. A few minutes won’t hurt, right? You shuffle over and fall face first into the cushion, groaning at the contact.

Three sharp knocks startle you. Your eyes dart around the living room, body still as you come to. Fuck, did you fall asleep? There's still some red solo cups scattered on the floor, and you didn’t toss out the pizza box on the counter and-

Three more knocks, a little louder.

Oh, right.

You cuss under your breath and walk in long strides to the door, opening it slowly. The sunlight spilling over your face made you squint your eyes and hold a hand in front of your face to block it. The sudden bright light made you queasy.

The figure in front of you thankfully shifts and blocks the light for you, allowing you to see who it is. A man? The tool box rattling in his hand reminds you that you're waiting for the maintenance man.

Your eyes flicker across his body. Mid to late 40’s, tanned skin, salt and pepper beard. His dark eyes peered over your head into the house behind you. He's tall, wide chest clad in a dark t-shirt with some logo over the pocket. He’s got a tool belt hanging low on his hips, blue jeans that hug his thighs and an old pair of work boots.

You blink while taking him in, eyes trailing back up his body to his face and you’re taken back a bit when you meet his gaze. He’s handsome. The grey specks in his beard matching the ones at his hairline, the rest of his hair dark, some unruly curls behind his ears and at the nape of his neck. Soft crinkles by the corners of his brown eyes. He smells nice too. He smells like clean laundry, cedar and-

He clears his throat.

You don't know how long you were staring.

“I’m Joel. Maintenance. Here for the dryer request?” His voice was thick with a velvet southern draw, calm and polite.

Joel.

You stare just a moment too long.

“Uh- yeah. Sorry. Come in.” You say and step aside, holding the door for him.

He gives a tight-lipped smile with a curt nod and slips past you into the house. You close the door behind him with your shoulder, leaning on it for a moment to collect yourself. You still barely feel like a person and the hot handyman really caught you off guard.

“I’ll show you the basement.” You speak up, ushering in front of him and kicking an empty plastic cup out of the way.

You grimace in embarrassment as the plastic rattles.

“I’m sorry-” You barely get out an apology before he's shaking his head, low chuckle leaving his lips.

“No need to apologize. Looks like you had a fun time.” He muses, looking around.

Joel followed behind you as you led him to the basement. He looked around the apartment, all the art hanging on the walls, lots of plants. A decent amount of party remnants lay around the place. He saw these things almost daily, they didn’t bother him. He has never seen you though. He thinks you must be new to the block. He didn't know what to expect when you opened the door, he hasn't had a maintenance call for this house in some time. He definitely didn’t expect a girl who looked to be pantless to answer the door. Your bare legs being warmed by the sun as you opened the door for him. Your face was flushed, he assumed you had done a decent amount of drinking the night before, which would account for the prolonged staring and seeming confusion when he knocked.

“Down here.” You mumble and start down the basement steps.

The lighting is awful; the stairs are steep and make an ugly noise as the both of you trudge down them. You’re still so hungover you’re reminding yourself to breathe, the noticeably cooler air down here making it a bit more bearable. You walk to the back wall, washer and dryer set next to each other. The stale scent of basement is unpleasant, but honestly better than the smell upstairs right now. You stand on your tiptoes to reach the short string that hangs from a single lightbulb and yank it. It flickers, lighting up the basement right before fizzling out.

“Shit.” You mumble, standing on your tiptoes again to yank it a few more times, nothing happening.

“I’m sorry. It was working yesterday.” You apologize.

Joel sighs softly, shrugging his shoulders before setting his toolbox down.

“S’alright. I can replace it.” He says smoothly.

“I got a flashlight.” He says over his shoulder while digging through his tool belt.

“Would ya hold this for me, darlin’?” He says, handing you a compact flashlight from his toolbelt.

Your chest tightens. It shouldn’t. You’re vulnerable right now. Hungover, tired and now flustered? The way that sweet name rolled effortlessly off his lips made your face flush. You were grateful that it was so dark.

Joel wiggled the flashlight in front of you, clearing his throat.

You nod and take it, clicking it on and holding the light on the dryer, hands trembling from your hangover. Not because you thought about him calling you that sweet name daily. That would be ridiculous. Joel mumbles a thank you.

Joel groans quietly as he kneels in front of the dryer, starting to unscrew the panel. You widen your eyes and quickly push out the thoughts that come flooding after he groans. You stand to the side and hold the light. You can't help but watch his hands.

Big. Skilled. Calm.

Every movement he made was calculated. Your eyes flicker to his forearms, watching how his muscles flex under his tanned skin. Then your eyes fall to his broad shoulders. His shirt stretched tight enough over his back to highlight the muscles there. They’re not protruding, bodybuilder muscles. But the kind of muscles you get from doing work like this for what you can assume is a long time.

The grey hairs you noticed earlier are more focused at his temples, fading into the dark brown beautifully. He's breathing quietly as he works, ribs expanding against the fabric of his shirt. You became very aware of how quiet it is, a cold basement filled with his breathing and quiet clinks of his tools. You’re speaking quietly before you even know what words are leaving your lips.

“So.. Do you need anything else from me? Other than manning the flashlight?”

“Do you have coffee?” Joel answers without looking away from his work.

You smile to yourself.

“I’ve got some. It's probably terrible, though.”

Joel turns his head, glancing at you over his shoulder.

“I appreciate the warning.”

You handed him the flashlight and watched him hold it between his teeth, brows furrowing as he worked. The sight made you freeze for a second before making your way into the kitchen, fumbling with the coffee maker, then the coffee grounds and the mug. You were nervous. That suggestion of a smile when he looked over his shoulder did you in.

He is a beautiful man.

And your sick, touch-starved, hungover brain is taking in every inch of him.

The coffee maker gurgles, spitting dark liquid into the mug. You closed your eyes, leaning against the counter, the cool granite pressing into your lower stomach. You breathe in deeply through your nose, the smell was comforting. You opened your eyes and breathed out, creaking basement steps causing you to turn your attention there.

“Hey.” Joel speaks up.

He’s standing at the top of the steps, setting his tool box on the ground to pull a rag from his back pocket, wiping his hands on it and then stuffing it back in his pocket. His shoulder pressed into the door frame as he leaned there.

You watch him closely, watch how his thick fingers flex and curl while wiping the grease off of the other, and then they switch. You swallow thickly. Is it getting hot in here?

“How do you like it?” You blurt out awkwardly, peeling your eyes from his hands to look at him.

Fuck.

“Huh?” Joel furrows his eyebrows.

You look to the coffee maker, then to him. You gesture to it as it spurts out the last of the brewed liquid.

“Coffee.” You say, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Oh. Black.” He responds and you grimace at the thought.

He chuckles at your reaction, taking the mug as you offered it. You ignored the shiver up your spine as your fingers brushed his. Warm.

“Thank you, darlin’.” He muttered.

Oh fuck, there it is again.

You nod your head and pull yourself up to sit on the counter, swaying your feet as they dangle. Joel takes a long sip, sighing softly after he swallows. You watch the muscles in his neck and his adams apple bob as he swallows. You think you want to kiss him there.

What the fuck.

Why would you think that?

Your inner monologue is running a mile a minute. The angel and devil on your shoulders shouting back and forth.

he looks good. he’s just a man performing a paid service. but he's standing here in your kitchen, drinking from your mug. performing a service for you. you offered that coffee to him. he accepted it, he wants more. he wants to finish the coffee and leave your apartment that still has party trash almost everywhere. look at the way his lips wrap around the ceramic rim of the mug and imagine it's your-

“Dryer’s fine.” He draws after the long sip of coffee.

His voice pulls you from your daydream, sitting up straighter as you listen to him. Your face is hot and your stomach turns. Not from the disgusting amount of liquor you consumed, but from the thought of him using those lips for-

“Belt was loose. I tightened it. But I’ll have t’come back to swap out that bulb down there.”

Damn. He got you again.

You nod your head, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“Think I’ll survive the darkness until then.” You smile.

Joel shakes his head after taking another sip of coffee.

“Shouldn’t take long.Submit a new ticket n’ mark it urgent f’ya need to. Shouldn’t be down there in the dark anyways.” He says cooly, swirling around the coffee that's left in the mug.

“Should I pretend it's urgent?” You ask, tilting your head, trying to read his body language.

Joel sucks his teeth. A quiet breathy laugh passing his lips, so faint you’re second guessing if you actually heard it.

“I didn’t say that.” He speaks a little softer.

He looks up from his coffee to you. You look back at his big, brown eyes. They narrowed slightly, as if he was trying to read your body language.

He gave you a look. Part warning. Part amused.

You want him to talk. He’s hotter when he's talking. Which is saying a lot because he's standing silent in front of you and you swear he's glowing.

What the fuck is wrong with you.

His gaze makes you feel self-conscious. It's not invasive. Just calm. Present.

You’re nervous and antsy as he looks. You push yourself off of the counter, ‘hmph’ing quietly as you land on the ground. You turn and fill another mug with coffee, reaching for sugar and stirring some in.

Joel watches, you can feel his eyes. You pretend not to notice though.

“You always make offers like this to the maintenance guy?” He speaks up after a moment, finishing what's in his mug and resting it on the counter, not far from you.

You smile and look over to him briefly before going back to your mug.

“Only if he looks like he kills spiders without flinching. Only been here a week and I’ve seen about nine of them.”

“What a weird standard.” He chuckles.

“High standards keep me single.” You stifle a laugh, looking at him again.

Your face drops almost immediately. His brows were knit together. Why did you say that? God, you’re nervous and sweaty and hungover and embarrassing yourself in front of hot maintenance guy Joel.

“I was kidding.” You blurt out quickly.

“I wasn’t really- But I was. Kidding.” You say through short breaths, eyes frantically searching his face.

Fuck, he’s been here less than an hour and you’re already freaking him out. You want the floor to open up and swallow you whole right now.

“You’re funny.” He says, face softening.

He leans down to pick up his toolbox.

“Thanks for the coffee...” He trails off, searching.

Your brain is working for the first time today. You realize you never told him your name. You chirp up, telling him your name. He nods once and repeats it, smiling.

“Submit the bulb request f’ya want it fixed.” He says smoothly.

You swallow and nod, following behind him like a puppy as he walks towards the front door again.

“Okay.” You say.

“See ya ‘round, darlin’.” He draws, offering another polite smile before closing the door behind him.

Then he’s gone.

The place is quiet again. You lean back against the door, tossing your head back against it, exhaling so hard your ribcage deflates.

Your coffee has gone cold. You can’t bring yourself to care.

Your face is warm, your mind is racing, and your body is very aware of how long it's been since you liked someone. What the hell was that? Like him? You just saw him for the first time, literally an hour ago. Why did he smile like that? He thinks I’m funny? The third ‘darlin’ from his sweet velvet draw felt like the nail in the coffin.

Are you losing it?

Your phone vibrated, silencing your rambling mind for a moment.

A text from Ellie.

E: just got a text that the maintenance appointment was complete. is the dryer working?

You sigh.

You: yup, he came and went. the lightbulb blew down there. can you send me the portal info so i can make another request?

You restrain yourself from adding that he was drop dead gorgeous and had arms you wanted wrapped around your head.

Another text.

E: you don’t know how to change a fucking lightbulb?

God dammit Ellie. You want the really hot man to come back and do another task for you. Do you have to spell it out for her?

You: i can, just he said he’d come back and do it. just need to place a request

E: whatever you say princess. i’ll send it over.

You rolled your eyes.

You: thx :)

You settled on that response instead of begging for her to send it right now because you need to guarantee you’ll see Joel again in the near future.

Your phone vibrated again. The portal information from Ellie. You clutched your phone close to your chest, screwed your eyes shut and tilted your head up to the ceiling.

“Thank you.” You mumble, fully settling into the fact that you’re being boy crazy.

Man crazy.

You correct yourself and download the portal to your phone.

You need a nap.

You need to knock some sense into yourself and take a nap.

You’re blaming your hangover for the umpteenth time today. That's what has you feeling so caught up, you’re sure of it.

You don’t know if you could blame your hangover when you found your hand shoved in your panties not long later. The way his forearms moved, strong, steady and confident, ingrained in your brain.

God, you even found his name spilling from your lips more than once.

You’re fucked.

thank you all ✨

[blorbocedes]

let me take you guys on a journey. one that will help you understand how annoyingly obsessive and hung up my brain can get......

so here is where our wild goose chase starts. I was going through a 2012 f1 blog's nico tag. it's actually pretty rare for early 2010s blogs to have comprehensive tagging systems so whenever I find one I try to go thru it all. and I come across this v cute nico image (cropped for posterity. payoff will be worth it promise)

here we have a picture, from 2012, and in classic 2012 fashion there is meme text on it. OP of the original pic deactivated. so I want to find the version without the meme text. pretty easy, just reverse google search right?

WRONG!

google reverse search is functionally dead and defunct and absolutely dogshit.

ok back to square one. I'm trying to sus out from whatever information I have.

the other meme watermark of f1humour.tumblr.com? deactivated.

okay 37 notes. maybe I can do something with this.

tumblr kind of breaks (?) with very old posts. so even if someone tagged it, I can't see it. ok but 14 people liked it!

of the 14 accounts only 7 actually show, including mine. so what I do is I go through 6 of those blogs, and their public archives because those accounts are all inactive for several YEARS now. and I check their blogs for April 2012.

no luck.

back to the drawing board.

the meme has a MOTORSPORT.COM watermark.

here's all the information I have: this was posted on April 24th, 2012, which means that's my upper limit on the date this could be taken. Nico got in Mercedes in 2010. So from anywhere between 2010-2012 motorsport images couldve taken this pic.

so, because I was born with excessive intelligence, I think hmmm... let me search the archives of Motorsport Images dot com. surely that is where Motorsport dot com would keep their Images.

two years of a racing driver's pictures means thousands of pictures. okay. let's start from April 2012. unfortch for keen eyed listening, April 2012 was also the Chinese Grand Prix aka Nico's first f1 win.

why is that relevant? because it means every photographer and their MOTHER took a picture of nico for his first win. over 900+ images.

while I am exhibiting extremely unemployed levels of behavior here, I don't actually have the time and brain capacity to sift through 900 images.

I go back to the original tumblr post. this time I go to the empty reblogs. there's lots!

but because there's no tags it can't help me. still I go through every one of them because you can see the blog I found the pic from @the-fastest-waffle is listed in the other reblogs even though they clearly had tags!

and I find my silver lining. from @fuckyeahf1drivers's tags

just this simple. #bahrain #lol

if this picture is from bahrain 2012 it changes everything, as in it narrows my search a shit tonne.

375 images. This means 1-15 pages and I know the exact picture I'm looking for. I feel like I'm SO close. I can't give up now. gambler mentality 💎

so I guess what. I go through all 15 goddamn pages. and I DONT FIND IT!!!!!!!!! SCREEEEEECH

now I've lost hope. if it's not from bahrain 2012 then it can be from anywhere from 2010-2012 taken by motorsport.com which is just too big a search. there isn't anything I can narrow it down with. my search is futile.

but I have one tiny little thought bugging my mind. how come motorsport images don't have the motorsport.com watermark... so I consult a fellow archivist @vegasgrandprix on the matter.

WE AS A SOCIETY NEED TO ADDRESS WHY MOTORSPORT.COM AND MOTORSPORT IMAGES.COM HAVE THE SAME FONT

finally. finally

I go on motorsport.com

which is actually kind of not super user friendly interface finding their pics if you have excessive intelligence like I do. I go into this knowing if the bahrain 2012 long shot is actually NOT when that picture is from, I'm fucked.

I filter and say a prayer.

and lo and behold.

salvation.

one person's singular tag of 'bahrain 2012 lol' led me down this spiral, where if it wasn't for that bit of information this would be lost forever because finding the version of the pic without the meme text is otherwise near impossible. google reverse search is no help, and f1 drivers simply get photographed way too much. reblogs + tags with context literally are a holy grail. this is what I imagine archaeologists feel like. so if you ever want someone 12 years after you've posted something to go down finding out, tag your posts accordingly (assuming tumblr survives the next decade)

so why did I do it? why did I spend hours of my life on this? cause it's fun. it's like a mystery and it itches at my skin. many times I'm not successful which is why the times I am feels so rewarding because it feels almost like detective work, finding and refinding something, overturning evidence. and I have a brain that just functions Like This.

and now for the fruit of my labour, if you guys still want to see. the picture I spent hours to find the original version of. sitting proudly at the time of posting at 9 notes 😌😌 here's what goes behind actually finding and archiving 2010s retired f1 drivers online. click below!

👇👇👇

👆👆👆

[lyrakanefanatic]

okay i have this theory on HOW tomas died. what happened before that led to his death.

okay, so we all know from lyras mom that tomas was kind of like an entrepreneur who wasnt too big on telling the truth; he constantly told different people different stories about himself, and lyras mother, who ended up literally having his child, didnt know much about him.

i know people like him could be any age, but because he seems so desperate to make business deals and it seems to be because hes young and just started his career, plus if lyras mother were older (yes ik this could be at any age too but its most likely to happen to a young person) she probably wouldnt have stayed so long with a guy who she 1. knew nothing about and 2. thought was distrusting, im guessing tomas is on the younger side, like 19-25.

now, my theory could work with or without this next thought, but it adds to it.

because tomas is already such a “hustler” at a young age (from what i presume), im guessing its because he doesnt have a very great home life/might have had the same scenario as rohan, with not really having parents, he must have had to be a liar in the business industry just to make ends meet for himself, and possibly for lyras mother. (now, if you’re wondering why tomas being overall parentless even matters, it doesnt much, but hold on)

now imagine a young, overall alone tomas meets alice hawthorne. she has the money, the reputation, and is like a poor tomas’ dream. now fast forward a bit, tomas might have introduced some patents to her, they might have struck some business deals, whatever. but here’s where things kind of start to change.

as we know, tobias and alice hawthorne arent really know to keep people around. they use others for personal gain for as long as possible, and then they discard them like trash. but lets say tomas finds something out about the hawthorne family. obv i dont know what bc im not a psychic, but its something bad enough to send the hawthorne legacy crashing down. bonus points if he has proof. so, alice had a plan.

alice gave tomas a chance at his dream career; she kept him around for longer after that short period where they had been working together, giving him a taste of the career he had been working towards for months, even years possibly. she built him up, and, if you remember my theory about his rough family, might have even treated tomas like a son, like he belonged in the hawthorne family. basically giving him false hope and love. now, imagine the kind of person great, big alice hawthorne is to tiny pathetic tomas. and then imagine what his reaction was when, all of a sudden, she throws tomas on the back burner. crashes his career right to the ground, cutting off contact with him, shutting his life down so efficiently and effectively knowing that with her name, her status, and her past relationship with tomas, that it would break him. once tomas saw that he was being put back to square one by a woman he thought loved him like a son, by the biggest role model in his life, by alice hawthorne… he crashed. alice didnt even need to plan any sort of assassination; it was like the trash took itself out.

he became exactly what alice hawthorne had wanted him to be as soon as she realized she didnt need him anymore; a speck of dust on the hawthorne family reputation, just another person to exploit. alice knew tomas had had her backed into a corner, so she turned him into every other business man/woman and patent owner who dared to try and work with the hawthornes.

obviously tomas is angry. he realized too late that the person he looked up to the most was faking it all just to make sure her perfect reputation didnt get tainted, but worst of all, hes heartbroken with both himself for believing her, and alice for lying. (and im guessing by now his blackmail/evidence used as blackmail got destroyed/covered up, and couldnt be used by him anymore) so he soughts out his daughter, and, well… we know what happened with lyra.

he wants lyra to have at least one memory with him (even if its a shitty one), especially one with him blaming it on the hawthornes, because he needed her to avenge him, partially because he knew nobody else would. (remember: sucky/absent parents theory) i think him deciding to shoot himself in front of her with vague riddles instead of just explaining what happened to her was also on purpose, because he needed to do something that she, his daughter who’d never even met him, would remember.

i dont know how “what begins a bet? not that” ties into this, but i honestly really did not understand that whole omega thing to begin with lol 😭😭

but yeah thats my theory!! one thing i do want to point out though is that its seemingly very simple, and nothing that the hawthornes do are “simple” in any way shape or form. but i also thought that jlb making it a whole “cult” thing like how people have been speculating on here would be too repetitive, so i thought up this instead 💗💗

[bookie-bookdust]

Helpful (but Aggressive) Guide to the new Hogwarts Legacy PC Mod Update✨

I have been seeing NOTHING BUT COMPLAINING about this damn update and no one actually trying to help each other. So I'm going to do my damn best here to give you a little intro into this new update. Because instead of leaning into the standard toxic consumerism bullshit of fandom, why don't we actually try to be nice to each other?? And the fucking modders who put all this time and effort into making this for us?!?!!?!?!? Special thanks to @anomalyaly because we were up last night trying to figure this out LOL. These screenshots are hers and mine!

PART ONE: Why is my game crashing?

You need to delete your old Nexus ~mod folder from the game files. Throw it in the trash, cut and past it somewhere in your documents, idc. Just get it out of there. The pathway to find it is:

2. Steam senses your bad attitude and don't like it idk. I'm not IT. Turn it off and back on again.

NOTE: Once you start up the game and get it working, you can bring back compatible mods from Nexus. You just need to create a new folder to put them in. It can't be the original one. If your game crashes after that, then you have an incompatible mod in there. You'll have to go down the list until you narrow down which one it is - typically will be a face mod, hair mod, jewelry, or a mod that already exists in the new mod store thing. Yeet it.

PART TWO: I'm not going to teach you how to add the new in-game mods and start the game. I'm not your mom. It's pretty intuitive honestly.

PART THREE: Where the fuck are the clothing mods I just added????

An excellent question, my new charge. You need to go to GladRags to get them. You're going to have to long rest at least three days for them to show up in his store. For me, it took five times lol. This is kind of annoying, but it needs to be immersive to the game I guess so oh well. I don't think we'll die from it.

See all those red exclamation points? That was my fault. I loaded a wizard clothing mod into a witch save. So if you see that, you loaded something you shouldn't have.

PART FOUR: HOW DO I CHANGE MY UGLY ASS HAIR?

Easy peasy lemon squeezy. You're going to go to that hairstyle lady in Hogsmeade I'm too lazy to look up the name of. That bitch charges you for the new hairstyles but you can download unlimited money cheats so whatever.

Don't mind my face lol. I was having a BP makeup glitch LOL

PART THIRTY-SEVEN: How do I change my makeup?

This part sucks. RIGHT NOW as of 1/31/2025, you have to be in the main character design screen at the beginning of the damn game. BUT BUT BUT - if you mod back in the BP character editor, you can do it anywhere. My hope is a new mod will replace this so the game works more smoothly.

Those white spaces? They're the new in-game mods for hair and makeup. Well, most of them. I think some are just random blank spaces lol.

Part Six: Where are my unlocked spells and unlimited plants and shit?

Two reasons they're not showing up:

If you just added this mod and you load your game in the middle of the mission, you need to finish the mission first.

You probably have something incompatible (a nexus mod) that isn't playing nice. Yeet it.

After getting everything squared away, I look fucking great. You are not doomed to a potato face🥔. I FUCKING PROMISE YOU ON SOLOMON'S LIFE.

Truly guys, once you work out the kinks in this update, it's really. fucking. nice.

Before I reinstalled the nexus mods, the game was running so smoothly and the graphics were beautiful. I loaded in 20 mods all at once, and the game handled them just fine. After reloading the nexus mods it was a bit clunky, but of course it would be.

I know change is scary. Also for those who spent time creating/commissioning mods that are no longer compatible, they have the biggest right to be freaking out. BUT BUT BUT we all fucking know the old mods AND SO MANY MORE will be back soon. People are working their asses off in the background converting things right now.

I want to put some things into perspective for you:

We have not had a real update in two years (no, photo mode doesn't count). This is literally the best kind of update we could ever ask for. We are not dependent on the devs for updates with this. In the launch event they were speaking as if you can create your own quests; there are audio mods....think about it guys. Endless protentional. (The only things that aren't going to make it are if you have weird ass like engorgio penis mods because there's no way they're approving those for public use hahahaha)

The devs reached out to people in the community to ask for feedback and to collaborate. THEY CARE ABOUT THE FANDOM. Consider what that may mean for the sequel??? We might not be forced to stomach Hogwarts Legacy 2: Dumbledore's Jorts. They're listening (but they're not going to listen if you're fucking rude and stupid).

You guys shitting on this update very vocally here, on twitter, and on tiktok are forgetting that people in your community helped create it and can SEE YOU. STOP IT. Whine in private!!!!!! Also because I knowww I have to specify because someone is going to take everything personally, I don't mean posts making funny jokes about the updates and just being like ahhhh wtf is going on I'm so lost and whatnot. Like please guys, read the room. I'm referring to nasty comments.

So yes, I'm here with a positive review of the update, and an insanely aggressive reminder to calm the fuck down and go touch some grass. The old mods will be back soon. This update makes using them so much easier. Also, THE POOR CONSOLE PLAYERS DON'T EVEN HAVE ANYTHING YET SOOOOOOOO

I WILL NOT BE TAKING ANY QUESTIONS OR CRITICISM SO STFU. THANKS FOR READING THIS LONG ASS POST IF YOU'RE STILL HERE. OKAAAY BYEEeeEE.

[scary-grace]

Off-Script (Act 4) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Tomura's been Dabi's stunt double for almost a decade, and he's not easily impressed, but when he squares up with you for a fight scene, he finds himself caught off-guard in more ways than one. As the shoot progresses and sparks fly between the two of you, Tomura has to decide if you're worth the risk -- or if the best sparring partner he's ever had is all you'll ever be. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Act 1 Act 2 Act 3

Act 4

You can drive stick-shift. You’re sort of out of practice, but you get better fast. Faster than Spinner and Tomura sober up, anyway. Spinner texts Dabi from the passenger seat to tell him that help’s on the way, while Tomura looks up directions in the back. He’s not sure why he wound up in the backseat, and he’s not happy about it. The only times you’ve talked to him so far are to ask for directions.

“Thanks for doing this,” Spinner says to you for probably the fiftieth time. “I don’t know if you know this, but Dabi’s had kind of a tough time –”

“I heard rumors,” you say. Tomura tells you to turn left, and you put on your turn signal. “I heard he got help, though.”

Getting help is the nice way to put it. 180-day inpatient treatment is a lot more than getting help, in Tomura’s opinion. For the first four months nobody was even allowed to visit. “Yeah,” Spinner says. “He wasn’t supposed to go back to work this early, but his dad – you know his dad –”

“He produced a show I was in one time. Kind of a hard-ass.”

“He’s an asshole,” Tomura corrects.

“Dabi wouldn’t go unless he could change stuff about his contract,” Spinner adds. “That’s why no swordfights.”

“Oh.” You start to say something else, but Tomura has to cut you off to give directions, and after he’s done talking, you change the subject. “Ask Dabi where he is in the hotel. I’m guessing we want to get as close to him as possible so the press doesn’t see.”

Spinner texts Dabi. Tomura checks Dabi’s Twitter mentions. Nothing so far, except some photos of him hanging out with Hawks at the party. Like they told him to do. What the hell happened? Tomura doesn’t want to know. whatever it is, it’s probably going to end up with Dabi sending Tomura to parties in his place and never showing up to another one himself.

“He says he’s in the closet,” Spinner reports. “Uh – on the second floor, left side.”

“Tell him to get to a first-floor hotel room,” you say. “Housekeeping goes through empty ones at night to save time in the morning. Find one that’s open and go out the window.”

Spinner conveys that, and he and Tomura both get a response at the same time. “He says that’s some escape artist bullshit,” Spinner reports. “And he wants to know whose stupid idea it was.”

“Mine.” Tomura sends that, then adds a follow-up. if you can’t do this shit I never want to hear another word about how you can totally do your own stunts

Tomura’s phone rings a second later. Dabi’s contact. Tomura declines the call.

Dabi calls back again. Tomura declines it again, and this time Dabi texts. pick up the phone you fucking coward

why, so you can bitch me out? you can do that after you climb out the fucking window

Dabi calls Tomura a third time, and Tomura hangs up on him. “Guys,” Spinner complains. “This isn’t helping.”

“Should you let him know there’s somebody else with you?” you ask as you pull into the hotel’s back parking lot. “It sounds like he might be pissed about it.”

“He’s going to be pissed about everything,” Tomura says. He texts Dabi as you pull alongside the building: we’re here. get out. “You get used to it.”

It occurs to Tomura as the three of you wait for Dabi to make an appearance that he’s got no idea what Dabi did this time around. Paparazzi trouble would have shown up on Twitter already. If he’d relapsed – or lapsed, or whatever Tomura’s supposed to call it – he probably wouldn’t have texted for help. And even if he did text, he’d have been incoherent, because seven and a half months off of everything has probably wrecked his tolerance. Maybe he just thought he might relapse and decided to bail before he could do it. That’s really responsible of him. It’s really shitty of Tomura to be angry with him about it.

Tomura’s not immune to being shitty. Being shitty is his default mode, as evidenced by everything that’s happened with you. Up until tonight when you agreed to dance with him, and it seemed like it was going somewhere, and Tomura got to feel that again – while you were dancing with him this time, not just when you’re trying to kill him in an improvised swordfight. Maybe he was imagining it, seeing what he wanted to see, but he was still going to get a kiss in. And now he can’t, because he’s pretty sure it was temporary insanity on your part. Dancing with Tomura might have been hot to you, but Tomura’s still an asshole. No way are you getting into it with him again.

A window opens a few meters ahead of the car and Dabi spills out of it into a heap onto the concrete. He doesn’t get up right away, and Tomura gets out to help him, only for Dabi to slap his hands aside. “Fuck you. Get back in the car. Spinner, if you don’t start the stupid thing right now –”

He breaks off when he realizes Spinner’s not in the driver’s seat. “Hi,” you say. “The car’s still on. I just put the lights off so nobody would see us.”

Dabi stops trying to stand up in favor of just staring at you. To hell with it. Tomura grabs him, hauls him upright, and tows him into the backseat of the car.

By the time Tomura shuts the door behind himself, Spinner’s already midway through explaining why you’re there. “Since it wasn’t safe for us to drive, she offered to help. She hasn’t asked why or anything.”

“Don’t ask,” Dabi grunts. You give him a thumbs-up. “Why do you give a shit?”

“I was there and I heard.”

“So you were eavesdropping.”

“She was with Shigaraki when I went to get him,” Spinner says. “He brought her over, too. Are you, like – good? Are you going to throw up or something?”

“It’s not that. Fuck off.” Dabi hunches in on himself and pries his phone out of his pocket. Tomura spots a couple of text notifications from Hawks on the home screen before Dabi clears them away. He goes straight for Spotify and starts blasting the same song he was playing in his trailer this afternoon. “Nobody talk right now.”

There’s nothing Dabi can do that won’t piss Tomura off right now, but listening to this dumb song more than once would be annoying under normal circumstances – and Dabi’s got it on repeat. “Is this your new theme song? The old one was better.”

Dabi hunches in on himself further. “Shut up.”

You must know the song, because you’re humming along. Dabi doesn’t tell you to shut up, not even when you start singing quietly under your breath. With you singing along, Tomura cares a little more about the lyrics, enough to figure out that it’s about some girl whose best friend with benefits won’t come out of the closet. It’s a girl song. Why the hell is Dabi listening to this? Why would he listen to it so many times? Whatever the reason, it’s going to be stuck in Tomura’s head for the rest of the night.

“Where are we going?” Spinner asks after a little while. “Back to our party?”

“We have to be in town for the night soon anyway,” you say. “I was thinking I’d just drive around until the party breaks up and the press are gone. What do you think?”

Dabi gives a thumbs-up. You turn off the main road.

The song repeats through nine times – Tomura counted – before Dabi turns the volume down. Once he does, Spinner pounces. “What happened back there?”

“Got tired of it. Fuck off.”

“That text wasn’t ‘I’m tired of it’. You told us to get you out of there,” Tomura says. “What the hell happened?”

“Not your business. Fuck off.”

“You made it our business when you put us in your damn relapse prevention plan –”

“Hey,” you say from the driver’s seat. “It’s one hundred percent not my place to get involved in this, but it’s probably my fault that he doesn’t want to talk right now. He doesn’t know me from the next extra. It might be a good idea to hold off until after I’m out of the picture.”

It’s quiet for a second. Tomura thinks you’re probably right, except he doesn’t want you to get out of the picture. There’s stuff he needs to explain. He needs to set the record straight with you, and he needs to find out if you were really looking for him to kiss you while the two of you were dancing. “What she said,” Dabi mumbles. “Leave me alone.”

Works for Tomura. He leans back in his seat while Dabi turns up the volume on his stupid song. He’s going to wind up with it stuck in his head for sure, but since you’ve been singing along, he can hear it as your song, your voice. Which isn’t that great for him, either, because the song has a bunch of lines about having to stop the world just to stop having feelings and Tomura doesn’t want that to be the case. He already has a thing for someone who probably doesn’t like him back. The last thing he needs is for that feeling to stick around.

It’s quiet in the car other than Dabi’s song, until it’s past midnight and you park the car in front of the actors’ hotel. The press are gone, and so is everybody else. Spinner twists around in the front seat to stare at Dabi. “Hey, are you good for tonight? Do you want us to stick around?”

Dabi shakes his head, then answers the other way. “Yeah.”

“Which one of us?” Tomura asks.

“Both.”

Fuck. The last thing Tomura wants to do is spend all night in Dabi’s hotel room talking about whatever went sideways tonight. He was gearing up to apologize for being an asshole, but that’s as far as he was willing to go. Spinner is already getting out of the car, and a moment later, Dabi does the same. Spinner says goodnight to you. Dabi mutters a thank-you, which is more than he’s ever given anybody else who tried to help him. And then it’s just you and Tomura left in the car.

You glance at him in the rearview mirror. “You should probably go.”

“Yeah,” Tomura says. Dabi and Spinner are already inside, but he’s not ready to leave. He has to say something, and he doesn’t know what it should be. “Look, about earlier –”

“I know how beer goggling works,” you say. You smile. “It’s all good. I’ll see you at work.”

Beer goggling? “That’s not it,” Tomura says. He reaches out, touches your shoulder, and you flinch. Great. “I get it. Fine. See you at work.”

It’s not until he’s actually inside the hotel lobby that Tomura remembers which body part you injured during the fight rehearsal: Your shoulder. Specifically the shoulder he touched. You didn’t flinch because he was touching you, you flinched because it hurt, and Tomura’s a moron. He turns halfway around before he can think about how pathetic it is to even consider chasing after you. But he doesn’t have to. You’re already walking towards him.

Tomura still doesn’t know what to say. “Uh –”

“Dabi lefts his phone,” you say, and you hold it out. “I’m guessing neither of you will play Good Luck, Babe for him again.”

“That’s the song?” Tomura asks. You nod. “How’d you know it?”

“That artist is popular with theatre types,” you say. Your gaze shifts away from Tomura’s, and Tomura gets a weird feeling – like there’s something you know that he doesn’t, something you wouldn’t tell him even if he asked. “Anyway. Have a good night.”

That’s likely. “Wait a second,” Tomura says, and you turn back to face him. “About earlier. You, uh –”

You look expectantly at him. You still look too much like a normal person to be an actress, but you’re pretty in a way Tomura likes. The same way you’ll look every time he sees you, wherever he runs into you, and Tomura promptly runs out of things to say. What does he even mean when he says earlier? Earlier like tonight? Earlier like earlier today? Earlier like the day he met you, when he got stuck on the back foot and never found his feet again? “It’s not beer goggling,” he says, like an asshole. “Just so you know.”

Your expression doesn’t shift. “See you tomorrow.”

You leave without looking back, and Tomura stands in the lobby for way too long, wishing he’d said something different. Having no idea what it would be. Hoping you’ll come back so he can try again anyway, and knowing he’d screw it up exactly the same way that time, too.

<- Act 3

taglist: @lvtuss @lacrimae-lotos @xeveryxstarfallx @dance-with-me-in-hell @deadhands69 @shigarakislaughter @koohii @issaortiz @f3r4lfr0gg3r @evilcookie5 @cheeseonatower @agente707 @warxhammer @boogiemansbitch @baking-ghoul @stardustdreamersisi @minniessskii @handumb @shikiblessed @atspiss @aslutforfictionalmen

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Candy Cane Lane

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: fluff

Summary: You only have one night to plan four parties and a special Christmas light show. Dean knows how important it is for you to see the lights, and he makes sure he keeps his promise when he tells you you’ll get to see the lights.

Square Filled: candy cane (2022) for @spnchristmasbingo

Author’s Note: yes, this is inspired by season 1 episode 9 of new girl

x

Four different Christmas parties and only one night to do them. The invitations are spread out on the table for you to look at, and you have your notebook spread open for you to take notes. The first of the parties doesn’t start until the late afternoon, so you still have time to plan for them. This is the only weekend everyone in your friend group has off from work, and you’re going to make sure you can hit every party before the night is over.

You’re not big on parties but you’re only going because you want everyone to do your thing at the very end of the night.

“What are you doing?”

You look up and see Dean walk into the kitchen wearing nothing but gray sweatpants that leave little to the imagination. You blush and look back down at your notebook so you don’t ogle him.

“I’m just trying to plan out how this evening is going to go. If we’re going to hit every party before the end of the night, I need to plan it out.”

“Why not just wing it? I’m good at that,” he grins.

“Winging it isn’t my thing. Plus, I am going to make sure I get to take you all to Candy Cane Lane this year.”

Candy Cane Lane is the name of the light festival a neighborhood puts on for whoever wants to come and see it. Everyone decorates their houses to the fullest, and they have small booths that offer popcorn, corn dogs, snow cones, and other things that families and kids can enjoy while they look at the lights. You’re impressed every year because they always seem to outdo themselves from the year before.

It’s magical.

“I look forward to it,” Dean smiles.

Not long after you craft the perfect plan, your entire friend group comes over. Charlie, Donna, Jody, Garth, and Castiel come with small gifts for you, Sam, and Dean who are roommates. You have a Cadillac Escalade that can fit all eight of you, so Sam will be the DD if anyone else wants to drink the night away.

“Gather around everyone,” you call out. “So, we have four parties to hit, and only six hours to do it in. After that, we can spend whatever time we have left at Candy Cane Lane which is conveniently next to Charlie’s party. So, we’ll be hitting that one last. I figure if we spend at most an hour and a half at each party, we’ll have one hour to spare to go see the lights.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Charlie grins.

The first party you hit is uneventful. Castiel warned you his party with his friends wasn’t going to go well, so you passed the time by drinking and talking to Dean. Jody and Donna’s police party is next. Their precinct transformed into a hangout spot for the officers and their loved ones. It’s more lively than Castiel’s party, but you can’t seem to get into it.

Dean breaks off from conversation with Jody and swipes a fresh glass of eggnog from the table. He walks over to you, and you turn to him with a smile.

“Eggnog?”

“Sure. Thank you.”

“So, having fun?”

“I guess. Parties aren’t really my thing.”

“Why did you come?”

“For you,” Dean looks surprised but he covers it with a subtle cough, “and for Sam and Donna and everyone else. I know this is what you guys wanted to do.”

“Honestly, I can’t wait to see the lights.”

A bright smile forms on your face. “I know right? All of the houses are decorated with thousands of lights. There are two neighbors who try to outdo the other which is always funny to see. They even put up fake snow machines everywhere so that the kids can enjoy it.”

“You enjoy it, too, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you gush. “One house always makes delicious hot chocolate. I keep trying to get the recipe from them but they never want to share it.”

“I can’t wait,” Dean smiles.

The third party you attend is on Garth’s farm. Beth’s entire family is there with a ton of kids, and she’s set up a bunch of different games for everyone to enjoy. They live more north so it’s snowing by the time you reach their farm. There is a thick blanket of snow on the ground which makes you happy. You love snow and everything about it, especially snow that’s away from the dirty city.

Some of the kids are already in a snowball fight while others are making snowmen on the other side of the farm.

“Snowball fight! Come on, Y/N!” Dean exclaims.

An “oof” sound comes out of your mouth when he drags you away from the group. As soon as you throw one snowball, you’re officially in the game. You haven’t done this in so long and your aim isn’t very good, but you have fun. Snowballs come rushing at you from all directions as if the kids are all ganging up on you.

You squeal when a snowball hits your face, and you run away while laughing. Dean is hidden in the shadows, determined to take out as many kids as he can as quietly as he can. He hides behind a tree and notices you walking away from the group. What you don’t see is an older kid creeping closer to you with a huge snowball in his hands.

You pass by the tree Dean is hiding behind, and he reaches out to grab you. You yelp in surprise not from the snowball that whizzes past your face but from Dean pulling you flush against his body. He turns and presses you gently against the tree before throwing his snowball at the kid.

“Thanks,” you whisper.

“No problem.”

Dean looks down at you and you’re suddenly aware of how close he is to you. He glances down at your lips which look a few shades lighter from how cold it is. It’s just you and him in this moment. Have you thought about kissing Dean? Yes. More than you care to admit. He’s your best friend and roommate. If things go wrong, you still have to live with him.

Still, you find yourself leaning into him. Right before your lips touch, someone calls your name. You jerk away from Dean and look at Charlie who is waving you over.

“Excuse me,” you whisper.

Sam waits for you to leave before jogging over to his brother.

“Did you do it?”

“No.”

“Dude.”

“Charlie called for her. She left.”

Sam slaps his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, man. You’ll get the next one.”

“I should stop being a pussy and just kiss her already. I shouldn’t have to use Christmas as an excuse.”

Dean and Sam leave the snowball fight and join the rest inside the barn. The fourth and final party is at Charlie’s office. She works at a data center, and they’re throwing a get-together on the main floor. You’re already over tonight but there’s alcohol so you’ll stick around for a bit longer. Garth’s party took longer than you would have liked which puts you behind schedule. Candy Cane Lane ends at midnight and it’s already ten. Candy Cane Lane is forty-five minutes away from Charlie’s office so you’re hoping everyone wants to leave a bit earlier than planned.

Forty-five minutes come and go quicker than you would have liked, and you’re only getting sadder at not being able to go to see the lights.

“Hey, are you okay?” Dean asks.

“I guess.”

“What’s wrong?”

“We spent longer at Garth’s party than we should have. If we don’t go soon, we’re going to miss the lights.”

“Let me take care of it.”

“How?”

“We’ll leave now.”

“Really?” you smile.

“Let me tell Sam and Cas. Be right back.”

Dean leaves and you stay where you are so that he can find you when he gets back. After ten minutes pass, you decide to search for Dean. Maybe he got held up. You push past the crowds to get to the other side of the office where the breakroom is. That’s where they have the food, and that’s where Sam most likely is.

You’re about to enter when Dean catches you in the doorway.

“I got Sam and Cas on board.”

“Where are the others?” Dean’s silence causes you to look into his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Much like the tree, he’s very close to you. You get caught in his green irises, so much so that you don’t notice him leaning toward you.

“Y/N!”

You look to the right and see Charlie waving you over.

“Charlie!”

You leave Dean’s side and rush over to hers to discuss the possibility of leaving. Dean groans and rests his head on the doorframe before looking at the mistletoe Sam taped right before you walked in.

“Dude,” Sam chuckles.

“Shut up.”

It took ten more minutes but you got everyone to agree to leave the party early. Luck is not on your side because everyone is leaving their parties to head home, so the streets are filled with bumper-to-bumper traffic. You don’t let that get you down, though, because you have hope of seeing those twinkling lights you love so much.

“Hey, I hate to cut the party short, but I got to get back home. A couple of the kids are getting sick from eating the snow,” Garth says. “I can call an Uber if you let me off here.”

“Sure,” Dean says.

As soon as one breaks off, the rest drop like flies. Jody and Donna have work in the morning and Charlie has to see her mom before the night is over. Castiel is staying since he’s spending the night with you, Dean, and Sam. With most of the party gone and the fact that you’re still in traffic, you don’t have high hopes of making it to Candy Cane Lane.

“We should just go home, Dean.”

“No, you wanted to see the lights.”

“Dean, it’s nearly midnight and we’re still thirty minutes away. It’s fine. I can go next weekend by myself.”

The entire car ride is silent as Dean continues to drive. He looks at you and hates seeing you disappointed. He promised you that he’d get you to Candy Cane Lane, and that’s exactly what he’s going to do. He quickly makes a U-turn and heads toward the lights.

“What are you doing, Dean?”

“I told you we’re going to see the lights, and that’s what we’re going to do.”

“Dean, it’s almost one in the morning. We’re too late.”

Dean pulls into the empty neighborhood. All the lights are off, the inflatables are in puddles on the ground, and the place looks creepy with strings of unlit lights. He gets out and walks to the middle of the road. 

“Turn on your lights!” he yells.

“Dean!” you gasp.

“Turn on your lights!” Sam and Castiel get out to do the same, but you stay inside the car with a shocked look on your face. “Come on! It’s Christmas! Turn on your lights!”

“Turn on your lights!” Sam yells and jogs closer to one of the houses.

“I got a girl out here who’d like to see the lights! Turn on your lights!”

You smile at the thought of Dean doing all this for you. At one in the morning. Even though they might call the cops on you. Dean doesn’t care. All he cares about is making you happy. You step out of the car and watch three men run around the block trying to get people to turn their lights on.

The lights on the house behind you turn on, and their inflatable snowman starts filling with air. More lights come on and more inflatables come to life. The snow machines start spewing fake snow onto the street, and you gasp happily at seeing the private show.

“Dean! Look!” you exclaim happily. “Look at the snow!”

Dean walks up to you and pulls you into a hug. “Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

“Merry Christmas, Dean.”

You run your hands down his chest as you pull away from him. This is it. This is the moment, Dean declares. The fake snow falls all around you, and the lights twinkle in your eyes. He leans in and this time, there is nothing stopping him.

You meet him halfway and kiss him with passion. Sam nudges Cas with a smirk, and both of them head back to the car to give you and Dean a moment alone.

“You did this all for me?”

Dean reaches for your hair and tucks a strand behind your ear. “I’d do anything for you.”

You pull down Dean for another kiss, feeling the Christmas magic.

x

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[forecast0ctopus]

Any advice on drawing McCoy? I’m not used to drawing ancient wrinkley bastards (affectionate) and it’s surprisingly tough v-v

FOR SURE lmao i made. a diagram. just a warning that i am going to be irritating and long winded because u just hit a topic i really like sorry lmao

so first off i did some traces just to show whats there vs redraws to show my interpretation

ive said this on other asks but again jsyk, tracing isnt bad!! its a tool. theres some stuff with intellectual property and whatnot but using tracing to study shapes and forms is a really valuable practice.

also just taking some time to learn facial structures and anatomy is super useful, reading what bones and muscles are where and how they interact with one another. taking this info and staring in the mirror and moving your face around and thinking about it. just really furthers understanding of how the face works. trying to sound normal about this but i love anatomy and motion and physics and whatever

anyways im going to go through all the numbered points so there's no confusion. 1. forehead lines - self explanatory. more prominent when brows are raised 2. crows feet - at the outer corners of the eyes, more prominent when smiling or squinting 3. nasolabial folds - the folds that go from the corners of the nose to the corners of the mouth. more prominent when the mouth is wide, like smiling 4. brow furrow - self explanatory, most prominent when brows are furrowed. mccoy tends to have two right next to his eyebrows, kirk has one in the middle. everyones face works different lmao 5. chin crease - caused by how the chin and lower lip interact. 6. nasojugal groove - start from the inner corners of the eye and can extent over the cheeks. everyone has these and idk why people dont like them i think theyre really cool!!!! but Society. i guess. :/ 7. eye bags - caused by the skin sagging beneath the eyes. mccoy isnt even that old in tos i think hes meant to be mid 40s by the end of the 5 year mission, hes just got really prominent eye bags lmao 8. idk what the name is for these, but when the mouth is wide and pushes the skin to the sides, these folds sometimes form outside of the nasolabial folds 9. philtrum - the groove above the upper lip. i dont usually draw this but mccoy's struck me as prominent enough that i usually draw it on him 10. masseter - the muscle that moves the jaw up and down. its a pretty rugged muscle and while i wouldnt say mccoy's is especially prominent, it kind of extends that nasojugal groove from certain angles/positions 11. orbicularis oris - mouth muscle, usually easier to see when lips are pursed or frowns are pulled. mccoy's is pretty prominent from 3/4ths or side, his mouth tends to protrude in profile 12. this isnt a muscle but more of a line defining the planes of the face, but since i drew it i felt i should explain lmao

a few points:

im an animator i tend to exaggerate and emphasize certain things so i usually make him more square.

i like to combine eyebags and crows feet for brevity/flow, same with nasojugal grooves, eyebags, and masseter lines. my approach is always subject to change based on pose, expression, reference image, etc.

i take out details that i deem redundant or cluttering and keep what details i need to make things feel Right

all this info is applicable to any character of any age, its just in how you apply it and facial proportions that willl change how old a character is perceived to be

there's a lot more with drawing a Character rather than an Actor, just because the features are there doesnt necessarily mean things will feel correct? its very much in the mannerisms and poses and expressions

i only went over my approach to his likeness but not really body type or posing or anything idk if u want that i could always try to answer that later haha

_______________

anyways all that info kind of exists nebulously in my brain while i draw its not like im sitting there thinking Must Draw. Nasolabial Fold...... i jsut do what feels right with the visual info i have. also i love specificity in faces.... i dont like to be a hater but when every character is drawn the same it pisses me off a little lmao. so

also dont take my word as The Only Way to do anything i just draw how i like to draw and no one should feel like these are things that Must be done to be a good artist or anything do whatever the hell u wanna do

[yuriisclumsy]

Love's Dance

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (You are here)

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 3,014

Authors note: Last one...or is it? This One-shot is officially 7,018 Words (according to Google Doc)

The bustling streets of the city were welcoming the air of festivity as the first day of the festival arrived. I was wearing a dress averaging that of the territory's young women's—courtesy of Agent Lance. 

Waiting for the festival’s dance to start, I spent the day scouting the area blending in with the crowds to not look suspicious, letting time run by for the sun to set. 

As the sun disappears below the horizon, I make my way to the square where the dance is to take place. In the center, was a raised platform with tables, servants, and the Henituses’. Amongst them was a streak of red that stood out. There he was. Cale Henituse in all his glory. 

Great. The plan is going smoothly. Earlier today I had planted a few bombs off the city square in some abandoned homes, making sure no one would get injured. I may be part of Arm, but I don’t uphold their nature of chaos and destruction. 

Going around the square, I managed to find a group of girls willing to go with my plan–even if they looked at me weirdly. I guess money truly is powerful. 

As I led the group to the center, music started to play. The dance had begun. Couples and young boys asking for the hand of a girl they like to dance together gathered in the center. The group I had spent my money on left me in pursuit of quick enjoyment. 

“Hold up–wait!” I yelled, seeing my well-earned money fly away. “...aaand there goes my coins…great.” 

“Now, how am I supposed to get to him…?"

“Excuse me, miss?” a young man tapped my shoulder. 

“Huh?” 

“Ah! Sorry I’ll move aside. I’m sorry!” I vowed two times apologetically.  

Crap! I completely forgot I’m standing in the middle of people dancing. I should get out of the way. I started to move out of the way. 

“No, no you’re all good. I actually wanted to ask for a dance with you, is that alright?” The man said. 

“Umm, well, sure. Nothing wrong with a little distraction—” my eyes widened, and my throat shut. 

“That’s good to hear. I was hoping a beautiful lady like you would accept me without running away.” He smiled at me, extending a hand. 

“I see… If I may ask, what is your name?” I asked nervously. 

There is no way—no way in hell—that this man is Cale Henituse. Praying to any being powerful enough to respond and tell me: “this isn’t Cale, it’s a man that looks just like him.” 

But my prayers were unheard. 

“You don’t know? Red hair, gray eyes? Usually, people recognize me from a mile away. But it seems you're new around these parts, so I guess I'll let this slide,” he took one of my hands and placed it right on his lips, “my name is Cale, the son of the Count. I hope you at least know the family's name.”  

The man I had been trying to get close to is standing right in front of me. 

Damn it! I know I wanted to get near him, but not like this! Turmoil spread across my mind as anxiety rose.  

“Are you alright?” Snapping from whatever state I was in, I composed myself. I couldn’t give him any signs of weakness, or anything weird, lest he suspects me and has me arrested. Breathing in, I smiled sweetly at him. 

Whoops. I got caught zoning out. 

“Don’t worry about me. I am fine, thank you.” 

“That’s good to hear,” he was still holding onto my hand, “so, shall we dance?” Cale asked.  

“It would be my pleasure, young master Cale.” 

I looked out through the little gaps left between the dancing people to find my planned routes for emergencies, yet it was impossible to see when I got led further in. 

Okay, [Name]—calm down. All you need to do is lead the dance outwards. That’s all you need to do. For now, go with the flow. Following Cale’s steps, he stopped to turn to me to begin dancing. 

“Say, I didn’t get your name,” he said as we both fell into step, letting the rhythm be our guide, “do offer me the honor of knowing the name to call such beauty.” 

“…[Name],” I said in a whisper before saying it again to let him hear it, “my name is [Name].” 

“[Name]…I like it,” he grinned at me, “well, [Name], you dance quite beautifully.” 

“I don’t think I do. I only learned a little when I was younger because my parents forced me to.” 

“If it makes you feel better, you dance better than most people I know. And they have practiced their whole lives!” 

“Pff, you can’t just say things like that about people.” 

“So, what?” He grinned, “I am just telling the truth!” 

I laughed at his banter. Looking at him, like he is now, he didn’t seem like the person I expected—especially after all the rumors of him having a sharp tongue and jerk-behavior…. Are all of them true? To me, he sounded like a very charismatic character. 

“What brought you to this corner of the kingdom?” 

“I'm…I’m on vacation. I landed a few business deals, and I really need rest after that.” I spoke. Lying was one of my fortes. 

“Then you must be a good business woman for landing anything on the Roan Kingdom. It’s difficult if you don’t have the contacts.” 

“Tell me about it. I had to meet up with an interested businessperson several times to even give me a chance.” I complained. 

“Sounds like you had fun,” he chuckled. 

“If you find dealing with ill-mannered men fun.” 

The music began to tone down, signaling the change in song. We both bowed to one another as our final move before the music fully stopped. The people around us started to shatter to pass the time before the song began. 

“It was a lovely dance, lady [Name].” 

“Likewise.” 

“Now, I need to leave,” he looked at the podium where his family was, “if I don’t go now, they’ll start to get worried.” 

Wait— I’m already this close! I can’t let him go yet! 

“Wait, young master!” I reached out and grabbed him by the wrist. He turned to me in surprise, looking between me and the hand that I was taking ahold of him. Realizing what I did I retracted it before there could be any confusion. 

“Ah, sorry. I…I wanted to talk to you a bit more, Master Cale.” 

“Cale.” 

“Pardon?” I let out in confusion. 

“Just, Cale, is fine. I hate when people use honorifics when regarding me.” He gave me a smile. 

“Alright. Then, Mr. Cale, are you willing to spare a bit of your time for me?” He let out a sight at my formality but said nothing about it. 

“I still have some time,” he offered me his arm to take, “shall we go?” 

“Yes,” I placed a hand on his arm for him to lead me out. 

Finally, we had escaped the merry-go-round of dizziness: the dance floor. As much as I love to dance, it was getting lightheaded because of looking outward for the location of my routes. I felt uneasy if I didn’t know where they were. 

Cale had asked me if I wanted something to eat. I responded with a yes, trying to stay in the lovely mood. The more relaxed he is, the easier it is for me to get answers out of him. 

After some time, I led Cale to the outskirts of the city square by pointing at shops and “interesting” objects that caught my attention that were farther away. He didn’t seem to care, so I kept my façade until there were no prying eyes. 

“Say, [Name], I have a question I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he remained walking, not looking back at me. 

“Uhm, what is it?” I asked curiously. It didn’t hurt to answer one more question before I kidnap and interrogate him. What’s the worst that could happen? 

He leaned closer to me. I shivered at the feeling of his breath against my ear…. For some reason, there was a feeling of doom in my stomach. I ignored it, thinking it was nothing. 

“You like working for Arm, right?” Cale whispered that question in my ear. 

I froze. Replaying the same question over and over, yet it didn’t register. Maybe I had heard wrong. 

“...excuse me?” I turned slowly to look him in the eyes. 

“You heard me.” Cale’s gaze pierced me. It’s as if he was looking right through me. His lips holding that same smile he gave me when we were dancing. Yet, I couldn’t see the charismatic grin he wore from before anymore. The feeling it gives is that of a grinning fox as it has its prey pinned to the ground, ready to end its insignificant life. 

“You…you didn’t approach me because of how I looked…” The gears in my head start turning, and my face shows my anxiety. 

“Isn't it weird?” He asked no one.  

“Why would a lout act so nicely to a lady like you?” His questions were more for dramatic suspense than for them to receive a reply. Besides…we both knew the answer. There was no reason for it to be answered. 

“I have to applaud you for the effort put into this,” he took out a gadget from his pocket. But this was no mere object, it was one of the bombs I had planted. 

How did he find it!? I made sure to hide those well! A drop of sweat ran through my face. 

“These are high level magic bombs. I wonder who Arm's supplier is on these,” his eyes inspected the device before they averted their gaze on me. “You wouldn't happen to know, would you?” 

I stood there. Saying nothing and staring at the ground. The grin he wore was one of knowing; he picked me out, not for my looks or out of pity, but because he found me as a member of Arm: he played me like a fool. 

Now that I know all of this, who knows what he’ll do to me. I needed to leave. And fast. 

“Silent, now, are we?” His index finger tilted my head upward, though my face was not visible for him to make out my expression. “You were so cherry before. Mind telling me where all of that went?” 

I bit the finger in which he forced me to look up at him, shoving him to lose his grip on me. I took this chance to make a run for the nearest alley. Thankfully, it was one of my escape routes. There was no time to look back  

Ease came over me when I saw one of my escape equipment not tampered with. 

But that sense of relief was washed away as soon as two men stood in my way. One was wearing an all-black cloak obstructing my view of his face, the other was an older man wearing a butler uniform. He was familiar. It felt like I had crossed paths with him before. 

Wait… It’s him! The man I accidentally bumped into on my way to set up the bombs! Did he follow me?! 

I stopped, not before drifting a little forward. 

“Damn it…!” I stared straight at my opponents. They won’t let me pass them if I continue, but if I stay still, I will get captured. There is another choice…but that is for emergency cases only. 

My best shot is to fight my way through. I thought looking back at me only to see Cale staring back at me. My body was about to start trembling, but I made myself get ready to push before fear takes over my system.  

“Surrendering is your only option.” The man in the cloak advised. 

“...” 

Inhale…and exhale… Here goes nothing. 

“I’m sorry, but I'll be the judge of that!” I charged onward, taking out a pocket dagger I hid underneath my dress for these types of situations.  

The man in black moved forward to block whatever attack I was planning. I noticed the butler stayed behind without a weapon in hand. Most Likely, he is there to give out orders. Or so I thought. 

The sound of steel clashing harshly against one another was loud, but not enough to scare either of the parties. One slash from one side followed a parry from the other. Although, it was clear to us who was the stronger one. It wasn’t the damsel who had stood her ground thus far, but the strong-mystery of a man. 

Catching an opening I thrusted my dagger to his neck, but to no avail. He dodged. I thought my eyes were playing with me. He had stopped my assault with lightning speed. Before I realized it, he turned and slid his sword upward, leaving a big cut in my left arm.  

Holding on with my spared hand to prevent more blood from gushing out. He didn’t pursue me, even if he had an advantage after the injury I sustained. 

“Surrender. Now.” He demanded. 

“Over my dead body!” I rush at him, seeing a gap for me to use to get past him.  

The moment he turned his back against me to riposte I evaded the strike by going under and between his legs, getting rid of one of my adversaries. 

The only one standing in the middle of my freedom was the butler. 

I’m sorry old man…I really didn’t want to do this...! 

Deciding to not waste time, I went with full intent to kill the old geyser. I raised my dagger and lodged at him. The butler, however, didn’t move. He didn't blink, twitch, or make a sound. He simply smiled at me. A warning to all: “you’re the prey, and I'm the hunter.”  

I hesitated for a split second from the eerie feeling he gave me, but this was enough for him. Disappearing from eyesight, only to appear in front of me. He made a move to strike from below. I pulled up my arms in defense, even if my left arm was wounded, it was better than dying. He feinted the attack, however, as his real attack was from above. 

Unable to block it on time, I received a big punch in my jaw, sending me straight to the ground. That hit was intended to kill me, but it seems he restrained himself before landing the punch.  

My ears were ringing, and my body was aching. I had no other choice but to use it. 

The old butler sighed before adjusting his sleeve, his piercing gaze carefully watching me. 

“All of this could have been avoided if you had just given in,” the old man commented. His partner came closer to my defeated figure to inspect the situation. 

“Do we bring her back to the manor?” the man in black said, taking off his hood. 

“Yes. Master Cale wants to interrogate her further.” 

“I... won’t–go…” 

The two men looked down after hearing my voice. 

I held my body in a crawling position with my aching arms. This body of mine sustained too many blows to stand up. 

“Impressive…” the butler said. 

“Should I…knock her out?” he said, raising his hand waiting for the other to respond. 

“Mhmm, I think it’s for the best.” 

“Right.” Before the younger man could knock me out, I rolled over and slammed myself against one of the walls of the buildings. His fisted hand collided with the ground where I was, forming a small crater.  

“Ah, she moved.”  

“You still have the energy to move–even after I hit you?” The butler looked at me in astonishment, “well, aren’t you a punk.” 

Locking my distasteful gaze on him I reached to grab the hair pin holding part of my hair. Taking it off, my hair fell to its natural form. Lifting my hand above my head, I said my final words: 

“Fu-k you.” 

Before shattering the pin into tiny pieces, the broken hair pin emitted a strong glow. The light engulfed me, dissolving me into tiny particles of light before fading into nothing. 

“What foul language…” He chuckled. 

… 

“Dammit...!” I hissed at the pain from all the cuts and bruises. I looked around and found myself in a forest. It was familiar. Too familiar in fact. As if I had been here for a big portion of my life. 

“Agh…” getting up from the ground proved difficult, but I managed anyway, “oh…I remember this place now…”  

This is the place Arm took me to train me after I had been stripped off from my parents… How lovely. Better get going. I need to report my findings…before they decide I’m not useful anymore. 

“I hate my life…” 

I walked off to the distance, following a trail of clawed trees. 

… 

“Young Master!” Choi Han came running and kneeled in front of Cale, “I apologize! I let her go...!” 

Staring off into the distance, Cale reminisced about the woman he had danced with. Out of all the things he accounted for, this was not one of them. He underestimated her and paid the price for doing so. 

“It’s fine,” He motioned for Han to get up, he reluctantly got up, “I miscalculated she would have a magic item like that.” 

“So, what are your orders, young master?” Ron asked. 

“...for now…. nothing. Just–keep an eye out for the other agent that’s in the territory and bring him to me if you do find them.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Cale couldn’t take his eyes off the area where he saw her last. Something in his heart told him to not let her go. It told him that he had a major loss.  

He patted his heart to calm down–it was like that since he met her, and it hasn’t ceased performing. He must deal with that until he crosses paths with her again. 

“I hope I get to see you again…[Name]” 

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Master-List

[memepocalypse]

The Golden Girls pt 1

Quotes from The Golden Girls gently modified into starters. source.

"I could get herpes listening to this story."

"I've been having a good time, and there wasn't even a man in the room."

"My mother used to say: the older you get, the better you get. Unless you’re a banana."

"People waste their time pondering whether a glass is half empty or half full. Me, I just drink whatever’s in the glass."

"Pray for Brains."

"No matter how bad things get, remember these sage words: You’re old, you sag, get over it."

"You're one chromosome away from being a potato."

"Crying is for plain women. Pretty women go shopping."

"Excuse me, but have I given any indication at all that I care?"

"I know this is a long shot, but did you take much acid during the Sixties?"

"My son married a welder. Too bad she didn’t weld his zipper shut. They got 10 kids they can’t afford."

"Nobody ever believes me when I’m telling the truth. I guess it’s the curse of being devastatingly beautiful."

"Jealousy is an ugly thing. And so are you, in anything backless."

"I know I look square, but I’m like my father’s tractor. I take a while to warm up, but once I get going I can turn your topsoil till the cows come home."

"Eat dirt and die, Trash."

"No one in my family has ever seen a psychiatrist…except of course, when they were institutionalized!"

Forgive me, but I haven’t had sex in 15 years and it’s starting to get on my nerves."

"I'm jumpier than a virgin at a prison rodeo."

"Look, you didn’t ask me for my opinion, but I’m old, so I’m giving it anyway."

"Go hug a landmine!"

"After 80, every year without a headstone is a milestone!"

"I always take a deep breath before I greet a man. It thrusts my breasts forward."

"I hate Jell-O. If God wanted peaches suspended in midair, he would have filled them with helium."

"Isn't it amazing how I can feel so bad, and still look so good?"

"I thought you wore too much makeup and were a slut. I was wrong. You don’t wear too much makeup."

"It was at that moment I realized my bosoms had the power to make music."

"If this sauce was a person, I’d get naked and make love to it."

"When a 22-year-old girl marries a man who’s 80, chances are she is not after his body."

"It's time I gave something back to the chicken community. A chicken once saved my life."

"It is not easy being a mother. If it were easy, fathers would do it."

[lilypotter6457]

The Love of My Life

Multi-Fandom One Shots

•|Master List|•|Part 1|•

🏒Matt Rempe x Reader: Instagram [Part 2]💝

REQUESTED BY: No One

Idea: Your an actress in Suffs on Broadway, and after singing the national anthem at Madison Square Garden it was only a matter of time before you two connected.

Type: Fluff 💝

~•~•~•~•~•~

Let’s Recap:

mattrempe - so you got any plans tonight?

your_username - Depends...

mattrempe - well if your free, some of us are heading out to get a few drinks if you'd like to join

your_username - well send me the address and we'll see 👀

~•~•~

Y/N’s POV

I was t sure if I’d end up going, it sounded fun but it’s also the last day before tech starts for Suffs and tech is hard enough without a hangover.

I texted Shaina, who wrote the show, to see what she thought. Of course the responsible decision would’ve been to tell Matt another time and move on but since when are we responsible?

Shaina said I should live a little, as it’s probably the last time I’ll be able to hangout with people before the stress of the show takes over, and how many chances do you get with a professional sports player?

She was right, heading back to my apartment I quickly change into a simple black dress with some heals, throwing my hair into a half up half down with a bow, I head on out to the address Matt had sent me.

~•~•~

your_username Posted A Story

Caption: Going Out✨

~•~•~

Matt’s POV

your_username - I’ll be there in 10

So she is going? Wow, didn’t expect that.

Joining the group as we walk into the bar, we head over to get drinks.

I glance at the door every so often, trying to see if she arrived yet but not give away I’m looking for anyone in particular.

I get a notification on my phone that she posted a story.

She is stunning.

And I guess she is coming, didn’t take her for much of a party person.

Looking up, I see the door open and she walks in.

Looking around, lost, I leave the group of players, most of which are either with their partners or talking to girls, to go over to her…

~•~•~

Y/N’s POV

I look around the unfamiliar place, wow I should go out more.

I walk further in, hoping to find Matt. But to no avail.

Feeling a tap on my shoulder, I turn around.

Being met with a chest, I look up and see him.

Matt.

“Hey” he says, looking down at me.

“Hi” I respond, shocked by the height.

Since when is God releasing models that are like 12 feet (365.76 cm) tall?

“Do you want a drink?” He asks, reaching out his hand.

“Sure” I grab his hand, as we head over to the bar.

Sitting on a chair, we are closer to being face to face now, instead of the 7,058 miles (11,359 km) like China and America.

After ordering drinks, he turns to me, “didn’t take you for a party person.”

“I’m usually not, just decided I needed a change of scenery for tonight” I respond, taking a sip of the drink.

“Well I’m glad you came, otherwise I’d be dealing with some bunnies” he jokes.

•~•~•

Waking up the next day, I’m in an unfamiliar room. A bed that’s not mine, and clothes that are definitely not mine.

Sitting up, I’m met with an instant headache, laying back down.

I must’ve blacked out last night.

“Hey, are you okay?” I hear from next to me.

“No, I think I’m gonna-“ and with that, I sit up, the body behind me leading me to the bathroom.

Throwing up, I feel disgusted and embarrassed, as memories of the night before come back.

Matt. The bar. Leaving. It all made sense now.

“Hey it’s okay” he says from behind me, holding my hair.

“I will never drink again” I say quickly.

“Or just drink less” he jokes.

When I’m done, he hands me water and Advil, I take it before joining him back on the bed.

“I was supposed to have rehearsal today,” I say, realizing today was supposed to start tech.

“Yeah, a woman named Shaina called, I told her what happened,” he starts, “she seemed excited? I don’t know but she told me to tell you not to worry and to ‘enjoy the day’ or whatever.”

“Okay” I laugh a little, Shaina is way to invested in our love lives.

“Well, why don’t you shower then we can go out a little…” he says, standing up and leading me back to the bathroom.

~•~•~

rangers_tea

Liked By: mrsrempe, theatregirl25, and more

2,867♡

Caption: Matt with a girl last night 👀 Who could it be?!

Tagged: mattrempe

View All 1,345 Comments

devilsfan - Maybe this will stop him from fighting!

mrsrempe - it’s obviously me guys 💅

theatregirl25 - wait could it be your_username?!

^rangersfan - I mean based off her story she was wearing the outfit!

♡Liked By rangers_tea

nhlfan_43 - whoever it is let’s leave them alone, they deserve privacy!

~•~•~

your_username Posted A Story

Caption: City Days 💞

~•~•~

mattrempe Posted A Story

Caption: City Nights 💞

~•~•~

rangers_tea

Liked By: rangerfan, y/nxmattfan, and more

3,062♡

Caption: Is that?! Matt Rempe and Y/N L/N SPOTTED at a cafe in NYC?!

Tagged: mattrempe, your_username

View All 2,375 Comments

y/nxmattfan - They are so cute! I hope they are together

theatre_fan - DID YALL SEE HER STORY?!

^mrsrempe - AND HIS STORY OMG

rempirestate - I wonder if she’ll be at the game Sunday?

^bwayfan - ignore the game, will he join her at the Suffs premiere Friday?!

^rempirestate - OMG HE BETTER

nhlfan - yall let’s leave them be, if they want to be public they will share but until then let’s leave them alone

♡ Liked By your_username and mattrempe

~•~•~

Y/N’s POV

Getting my dress on, I ask Matt for help with the zipper.

I went with a nice purple dress, while he’s in a normal suit with a purple tie, as it’s the Suffs premiere.

Some of his fans have been speculating were together and after some discussions he chose to join me at the premiere for the show.

Luckily it’s not like a movie where we have to be in large groups like that, but instead we walk the carpet, he goes to his seat and I get ready for the show, then after the show we all go to a secret party place and party like wild animals.

Once dressed, we take a few mirror pics before heading out…

~•~•~

your_username

Liked By: suffsmusical, nyrangers, and more

10.8k♡

Caption: Suffs Premiere💜

Can’t believe that after months of rehearsals, performing at the Public, and even more rehearsals, we finally get to open on Broadway at the Music Box Theatre! This show means everything to me, to be able to bring Alice Paul to life is such a special thing and I’m so glad I get to do it, and be able to have my amazing best friend and boyfriend there with me tonight made it even more special. Can’t wait to see where this show goes!

Tagged: suffsmusical, mattrempe, shainataub

View All 7,963 Comments

suffsmusical - Happy Opening💜

^your_username - Ily, thank you for everything 💜

nyrangers - Adorable, congrats Y/N!

^your_username - Thank you! Wouldn’t have happened without you guys 😉

mattrempe - My amazing girlfriend 😻

^your_username - My amazing boyfriend 😍

lukehughes - Traitor

^your_username - just cuz I’m with a ranger doesn’t mean I support them

^mattrempe - yes it does, your a rangers fan now

^your_username - nvm you heard it hear first luke

^jackhughes - what a traitor Y/N, we might’ve grown up together but that doesn’t mean I like you

^ellenhughes - shut up you two, and yall are so cute Y/N!

^your_username - Thank you Queen Ellen! Ily

rangersfan - I KNEW IT

bwayfan - SO CUTE, got my tickets for next month!

♡Liked By your_username

~•~•~

mattrempe

Liked By: your_username, nyrangers, and more

44.9k♡

Caption: Yeah she did that, and I did her that night 😉

Tagged: your_username

View All 1,681 Comments

your_username - MATTHEW REMPE WTF IS THAT CAPTION

^mattrempe - It’s the truth 😎

^your_username - omg

nyrangers - NY Power Couple

^mattrempe - 💪💪💪

alleyrempe - treat her well Matt, and I better get to meet her

^your_username - let’s plan a girls day!

^alleyrempe - ABSOLUTELY

^mattrempe - what?

nhlfan - NOT THE CAPTION

devilsfan - devils gonna beat you Sunday

^rangersfan - stfu

~•~•~

A/N: the devils won cuz even tho this is a Matt Rempe fic I’m still a devils fan, also realized this prob could’ve all been 1 part but splitting it into two made it easier to write ngl, anyways plz leave requests or smth below cuz idk what to write, have a great day!

Published: Feb 28, 2025

Word Count: 1493

[dilutedconfusion]

A Moth to a Flame

Eustass x F!Reader (Part 2)

I’m literally SO happy that ya’ll seemed to enjoy the first chapter of this. Like I’m microscopically close to jumping through the screen and giving ya’ll big consensual forehead smooches. Hopefully ya’ll like where I’m taking this story cause I’m super EXCITED.

Summary: You are still waiting at the docks on your small island in hopes that your intuition was right and something big was about to happen. Regardless of Kid’s freshly amputated arm, curtesy of Benn Beckman, he is hopeful he can find some semblance of rest on your island because everyone knows he needs it. You don’t though and will prove to be a thorn in his side.

Warnings: Light mention of torture

Word Count: 5.5k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Tags: @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @st4rfevrr (If anyone else wants to be tagged for each new chapter just let me know in the comments<3)

You had just finished up the last page of sketches covered in whatever came to your mind. Tulips of course followed by a cicada you’d seen earlier and a few hands for the sake of anatomy practice.

The sun was getting lower in the sky and a web of clouds was rolling in. The original bright blue and hazy sky now cast in puffy gray clouds.

Must’ve rolled in with the wind. You thought, chewing the inside of your cheek and feeling the temperature drop around you by at least a few degrees. Another summer lighting storm.

You started gathering up your supplies. Shoving them back into your satchel in preparation for the downpour that could very well happen. The shipyard nearby was quieting down. The small town you lived in far to laid back to work into the late hours of the afternoon. Each person leaving with the scent of raw sawdust and a little slicker for the incoming rain.

You didn’t really want to go, despite the old man's warnings to keep yourself warm and out of harm's way. You leaned back on the dock with your hands. Looking up at the clouds as you sloshed around the water below with your feet. Feeling a piece of slimy seaweed brush against your calf you kicked it away in disgust. More in love with the feeling of cold water and less with the feeling of clammy plant life.

Eye unfocusing you just stared out.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe nothing is coming. Doubt was starting to creep into your thoughts. This deep root of obsession curling around the base of your spine though this feeling was becoming more and more misplaced.

Or maybe I’m a human weather reporter. Should've guessed my feeling was about some goddamn rain. You let out a weak little chuckle at that. Feeling rather stupid for being so engrossed by something that wasn’t even happening.

Your eyes naturally drifted back down to the horizon. Staring at the distant hazy line and tracing it with your eyes.

Until of course your body froze up and you paused.

Eyes narrowing and body naturally leaning forward you looked out. A speck of something in the distance. Floating at a seemingly even pace towards your humble island.

What the-

You cut yourself off mid-thought. Noticing of course that speck was a ship. Some strange yellow shape at the front of its hull. Black sails raised and thrown forward with the wind.

“Is…is that?” You said to yourself, voice hoarse from disuse. You almost couldn’t believe what you were seeing. The ship is a grand distance away making your eyes struggle to pick out any noticeable details. Everything blurring into a strange mix of colors and shapes.

There’s a flash of purple at the bottom. Strange…red marks at the top of the white. Blue…and yellow squares? You thought, trying to make out the sail.

Pirates. It has to be pirates.

This realization hit you like a train. Hitting your core first before reverberating through your body. Stomach swelling with an almost unmanageable feeling.

This must be it. The feeling. I knew something was coming.

It was relatively normal for pirates to visit your island but for some reason this felt different. It felt new.

“Goddamn it I was right!” You yelled, bolts of electricity shooting up and down your spine. A big bright smile tugging at the corners of your lips. It was strange to be happy over the arrival of pirates but the joy you felt wasn’t something you could swallow down and force yourself to be ashamed of. Sliding your ass off the dock to stand, you continued to stare out at the ever approaching boat.

Turning your head you looked behind you and out onto the island. The docks and shipyard are now void of human life except for yourself. The village, which was a good distance up the trail, had nothing but warm lantern lights and the distant shadows of buildings. The streets barren as people headed for shelter from the incoming storm.

I’m alone. You thought, that feeling crawling on your skin like a slug. It was both terrifying and exhilarating the prospect of being alone.

But what happens when those pirates get here? Who knows what they want? Most just come to restock but…maybe this feeling in my gut is telling me otherwise.

Like something bad is going to happen.

Now here you were, caught between a rock and a hard place. Technically you should go inform somebody about this. There was a few men that guarded this village, one of them being your father.

He’s not going to like this. You thought, knowing all two well how protective that man was.

I mean it makes sense…he knows how a pirates mind works after all.

But on the other hand…you didn’t want to say anything. Not ruin the sanctity of what the village had for the night. Give these pirates the benefit of the doubt just like you had to for the other pirates that came ashore.

Sure…they’re criminals but what’s so wrong about that? Not all criminals are bad. I know that. You told yourself, feeling conflicting morals and pressures on you. You’ve always hated the world government and the marines. You had your personal reasons but in general authority usually didn’t sit right with you. Being close to criminals but not actively being one was a main prospect of your life. Though your father also told you stay clear of anyone you didn’t know. That he wasn’t going to let you get hurt again.

Goddamn it. You were starting to feel a bit guilty that you were even considering staying. To just stand here and put yourself in danger.

Your hands were shaking at your side. Not out of fear but this strange tugging feeling you had on your body. Eyes gliding across the space between you, the sea, and that boat. Willing you towards it. A siren’s call of the wind forcing you to stay.

The boat’s features were becoming more and more defined. You noticed now that the strange yellow blob at its hull was actually a skull. Huge sharp teeth cast in deep shadow from the overcast. It looked like it could easily swallow you whole. Staring into its gaping mouth expecting to see the souls of the damn.

But instead you saw the shape of a man.

Is that a…red puffball?

You squinted your eyes and leaned forward. Placing your hands on your knees trying to decipher what the hell you were looking at.

If I stay here…does that just mean they're going to float on up and dock, only to find a random girl staring at them? That’s…a bad idea for sure. Maybe I should…watch from a distance? Hide maybe?

As you thought this over the boat was only approaching more and more. Its looming height and huge hull cast deep ripples in the sea. It was amazing. The Jolly Roger one you could’ve sworn you’d seen before. Maybe on a newspaper or bounty. But either way the gothic aesthetic was a dark sheen that melded with the gray clouds above. Deep green tones, purples, and the warm glow of lanterns making the whole ship so ominous and captivating.

Your skin prickled with goosebumps, something alluring you towards it. Nearly making you want to jump into the sea to swim towards the boat. You hadn’t been on a boat like that in a long time. Waves of nostalgia wafting over you.

I can’t just stay here on this dock and look like an idiot waiting to get captured. What am I supposed to do? Say “Ahoy there mateys,” and pretend that’s normal?!

But no matter how much you tried, you just wouldn’t move. To get off this dock and hide in the nearby brush was your best bet. Yet you were stuck in place as if your own two feet were deciding your destiny.

So you waited like a petrified stone. Staring out at the boat right on the edge of the dock. Ready to greet whoever was aboard.

__________

Well there's a total idiot within cannon fire distance.

Kid thought, a scowl melded to his face as he stared at a random girl standing at the edge of the dock. He still hasn’t moved from his spot next to the helm. Eyes glued to the island until the moment he noticed a person just standing there.

It had caught him off guard. Scanning the rest of the docks and shipyard with keen eyes to spot no other signs of life. Wondering exactly why she seemed to just be staring at them.

Is she petrified from fear? He thought, gaining a small pleased grin at the corners of his lips. But as they approached closer she didn’t look scared. Her face covered in a small smile though it had a nervous curl around its edges.

Oh, so she is just stupid. He thought with a little grunt, going back to that same scowl. His lack of eyebrow raising in mild confusion.

“Who is that?” Heat muttered still softly guiding the ship towards the dock. The wood groaned a bit at the smooth meandering pace.

“Don’t know. Maybe she’s here to greet us. Offer up chocolates and a warm towel.” Kid grumbled out, turning around in one swift motion to head towards the door back onto the main deck. Heat let out a little chuckle at that as he stroked back his blue locks. Taking note of his Captain leaving with tracing eyes.

“Want me to dock right next to her?” Heat asked, knowing full well there were three docks he could choose from. Each with enough space to hold their mass of a ship.

Kid paused, his boots stopping in place as he barely turned his head to look back at Heat. His face quizzical for only a moment, eyes rolling as he faced forward once more. “Go ahead.” He murmured, finally grabbing the door handle and stepping out of the room.

The wide expanse of his main deck was thrust upon him. Walking out onto it to find a good number of his crewmates sitting around idly. The sound of playing cards flipping and quiet conversation floating across the deck.

Kid sauntered towards his first mate, who was standing by the banister at the edge of the Victoria. His back leaned up against it and a small notebook in hand.

“Did you give everyone their lists?” Kid asked, sliding up next to Killer. His single hand grabbing onto the banister as he stared out at sea.

“Yep. Everyone knows what to get. We’ll be fully stocked in at least two days most likely.” Killer’s voice sounded a bit raspy, using his free hand to clip the pen he was holding to the notebook before sliding it in his back pocket.

Kid let out a low grunt of an answer. Still stuck on staring out at the incoming island. That figure of a woman making his stomach churn for whatever reason. Killer silently watched Kid next to him. Staring at him through the holes of his mask.

“Quit staring.” Kid glanced at Killer, not even moving his head before looking back at sea. Killer’s body shifted in response, turning his body out towards the sea to mirror Kids.

Killer didn’t speak for a moment, not willing to apologize considering there was a pretty good reason to be staring.

Killer could see the slightly more purple and deep bags under Kids eyes. Or the way his skin seemed just a few shades paler than usual. No matter how much he tried, Kid hadn’t been eating or drinking consistently. Too concerned to concoct a blueprint for his perfect prosthetic arm. That paired with a huge gaping wound and a decent amount of scars would not prove well. Killer knew that and had talked to Kid about it. Kid had gotten angry and shut himself in his workshop for a whole day.

So though Killer wanted to pester him he decided against it. Instead he glanced at that girl. Watching how Kids eyes glided to her.

“Strange isn’t it? We never have anyone to greet us.” Killer finally spoke, breaking the silence between them.

Kid didn’t reply, eyes narrowed in that usual scowl he often held. So Killer spoke once more, “Doesn’t look like a marine. But either way it doesn’t matter.”

Kid finally glanced at Killer, eyes tracing his partner's mask a tiny bit before responding. “I’ll kill her myself if she’s a problem. That’s why it doesn't matter.”

__________

OH shit here we go.

This was it. Or at least it felt like it was.

The boat was fucking huge. That looming presence almost became suffocating as it floated towards your dock. The huge mast touching the clouds from your perspective as your chin was forced to tilt upwards. It wasn’t the biggest boat you’ve seen. But it's the biggest boat to dock on your humble island in a while.

The waves crashing against the docks and splashing up on you just a tiny bit. A loud clunking noise was heard, drawing your attention to the lower side of the hull to spot a huge anchor. Sinking down into the sea with a loud splash, the chain wider than your arm.

So enamored by the ship you didn’t notice the two men watching you at first. Their eyes fixed on your presence as they stared down at you. Eerie shadows cast on the hills and bumps of their features.

Eventually you did glance up at them, turning your body more to face the boat as it groaned and settled next to your dinky dock. A bright blush and a twitchy smile smearing across your face.

Should I say something? You thought, panic flooding your veins as the two men leered at you. The one on the right was unfamiliar. His blue and white striped mask was a bit demeaning as you couldn’t tell the expression he was making. Tan arms crossed over his wide chest. One, you noticed, covered in some kind of scars.

The other man must’ve been the one before. That red puffball you saw was actually his fur coat hanging loosely on his shoulders. His hair spiked red, helping with the fluff ball illusion. It was nerve wracking to make eye-contact with him considering he was giving one hard scowl. Those low amber eyes of his nearly poking holes through your soul. But when you caught a glimpse of his arm, or moreover lack of arm, your eyes softened.

Pirates. Always getting hurt aren’t they? You thought to yourself before deciding it was best not to stare and just say something. Even if you sounded stupid.

“Hello!” You yelled, making sure they could hear you from their height. Your voice is a tiny bit higher than usual from the nerves.

The one in the mask didn’t move an inch, showing no indication he even heard what you had said. But his partner clearly did, the skin of his eyebrows knitting in confusion.

“What the fuck do you want?” He yelled out, his voice so low you could’ve sworn you felt the dock shake. It made you blush up more. Both his rudeness and voice catch you off guard.

Your mouth went agape to speak but you didn’t say anything right away. Taking a second to try and concoct something that sounded half-way normal.

“Uhh…nothing. Nothing from you. Just an onlooker. Here to greet you.” You tried to explain, fiddling with your hands a tiny bit.

An onlooker? Seriously? That’s the best you can come up with? You scold yourself. It was true but you really didn’t want to admit you were just standing here out of morbid curiosity.

The redhead gaze only got more annoyed. Jaw visibly tightening a bit. “Well we’re not a fucking zoo and we don’t need your greeting. Go stare at somebody else.” He said, his words sounding more like a command set in stone.

He abruptly turned around and walked away from your line of sight. Going deeper on deck as you heard a loud rousing of multiple people’s footsteps.

Right. There’s a whole lot of people up there. Not just two scary men. You chewed your lip, looking down at the sea before glancing back up. The masked man surprisingly was still staring down at you. Quiet as a mouse but clearly studying you for whatever reason. It made your body tense up, hoping he would stop whatever he was doing and thankfully he did.

But as soon as he turned around, a plank slid down off the edge of the banister of the ship. Your body jumped at the sudden loud sound and you instinctively clutched your chest. Your habit of getting jump-scared easily kicking in.

The plank was towards the middle of the dock whilst you stood at the end. Feeling awkward you backed up a tiny bit, just waiting for somebody to stride down and rip you to shreds.

That same spiked fluff of red hair walked down first. It suddenly clicked in your brain that he must be the Captain. The Jolly Roger a dead give away now that you actually put two and two together. He eyed you as he finally stepped down on the dock, his crew members following behind but walking past him towards the island.

“Did you even hear what I said? Get lost!” Kid stated, his teeth snarling a bit as his frustration rose.

You blinked at him in almost genuine surprise. He clearly wanted nothing to do with you. Which was a reasonable feeling yes but the fact that he was being so upfront about it rubbed you the wrong way. Especially since you wanted to be nothing but kind and didn’t even bother to go warn anyone of their arrival.

Your eyes narrowed in annoyance as you spoke,“I’m not doing anything wrong. I just got curious.”

“Well you and you’re stupid curiousity can get fucked.” Kid spat, not even taking a second to try and understand what you had just said. It was very apparent to you that he viewed you as a nuisance. Making you cringe in near defeat.

But something else boiled inside you. Not appreciating one bit that a man was talking to you like that. You were timid at times, sure. But you were also a total bitch. Putting your hands on your hip and furrowing your brows you glared at him.

“Excuse me? I clearly think this is interesting if I’m standing here in the line of fire. I live on this island and have every right to eye anyone who washes up on shore. So if you have such a problem with that then you need to check yourself, buddy. You don’t get to tell me what to do.” You spat back at him with a lot more force.

The sudden change in your tone made the redhead freeze. Red painted lips turning to a thin line as he just stared at you. Clearly thinking over what to say or whether he should just knock you out.

This was really testing his patience. In all honesty all he wanted to do was get inland, find a bar, drink until his brain buzzed and then go back to his ship to pass out.

So he paused, willing his exhausted brain to actually try to break down what you said. Hearing that you were stroking his ego by finding ‘this interesting’ was enticing. But that attitude written all over the way you acted was something he’d like to wipe off with your own blood. But when he thought past his urges and felt how his stump was starting to ache, he backtracked. Deeming you not worth his time.

“Whatever. Touch my ship and you're dead. I don’t even want to fucking look at you so back off.” Kid grumbled out, turning away from you to start heading down the dock.

A bolt of pain shot through his arm. Like a headache in the most inconvenient place ever. Forcing him to grunt and stumble just a tiny bit as he walked. The man in the mask followed suit after the redhead. Turning his mask to give you a sparing glance before walking in stride with his companion.

You stood there dumbfounded. Fists clenching at your sides by the way he just brushed you off. Sure he had every right to. You were just being nosy after all but that didn’t mean he needed to treat you like that.

Is a little human fucking decency too much to ask for?

You really didn’t know what to do. Looking up to notice the spare glance from a rather large man with a combed back mohawk. He was standing up on the deck as he grabbed the plank off the dock and slid it back into the ship. Small beady eyes glaring at you in a defensive manner. “Move along,” he said with a slight snarl.

Your lips turned into a soft frown and you just started walking. Not willing to put up with the guard dogs they had for the ship. You could still see the redhead and blondie walking ahead. Meandering down the cobblestone pathway towards your village in the valley.

Walking along the same path it started to feel more and more like you were following them. Their long ass legs nearly walking at your average jogging speed so they were creating more and more distance between you. Watching with keen eyes as that huge fur coat billowed in the chill breeze. You could still feel that magnetic feeling in your core. Intuition or what some would call your psychotic brain urging you to keep your eyes planted on him. Or maybe both of them? Or maybe just interesting pirates in general? You didn’t want to assume your facinatation was with such a rude man.

I crave danger. Yeah, that’s all it is. He’s the Captain so he’s the source of it all.

You were so lost in your mind that you hadn’t even seen the redhead turn around and look at you. He halted instinctively when he sensed you trailing behind him. His jaw so tight it could nearly snap. “Are you following us?!”

Your eyes shot up from the ground. One foot mid step so it hit the ground with some extra force as you suddenly halted. The pair were about 50 feet ahead of you so maybe he had to shout so you could hear him over the wind. Or maybe he was just angry.

Yeah…that sounds more likely. You rolled your eyes a bit, taking a deep breath before responding.

“I wasn’t just to be clear but can I at least get your name?” You asked, taking a few more cautious steps towards him. Technically you were sort of following him but you weren’t going to verbally admit that.

Kids’ eyes turned to small slits. Judging you with utmost intensity. The blondie next to him surprisingly spoke or at least you think he did. Mask turned towards his companion but the wind was too strong and his voice was too quiet for you to hear anything. The redhead glanced at him, eyes twitching like a madman but something in him became noticeably more relaxed. Despite this though he still looked back at you, not holding anything back in terms of emotional regulation.

“How about instead of following people around like lost a puppy you go read a newspaper for once? You’ll find my name there, fuck-face!” He yelled, his tone sharp and quick. Proceeding to turn around and start up that same brisk walk they were at earlier.

Again you frowned softly. Face hardening in annoyance but you controlled your urges to just go up to him and give him a piece of your mind. Standing there in the middle of the trail, watching the pair get hidden by the green brush of the trees.

He says something like that again and I’m going ape shit on that cocky bastard. You thought, your mind mirroring the sky as it brooded and swirled with a storm. A rather stupid thought came to mind. One that was probably a bad idea but…it sounded fun.

You know what? Who cares about meeting these pirates in a normal way. Maybe my intuition was right and they really are just bad news.

And if that’s the case then…why not mess with them a bit? Bad people deserve bad things right?

You’ve escaped death a good handful of times. Dealt with pirates who were once foe and now friend. Or who wanted to kill you but you poked at them regardless. Who said these pirates had to be any different?

It’s my civic duty anyways. To keep an eye on them. I’ve got nothing better to do anyways. You thought, a devilish smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

The wind hit your spine and you shivered hard. Tugging on your jacket a bit tighter to keep it snug against your skin. A bright shock of light split the sky in the distance. The lightning danced for one moment before disappearing abruptly until eventually the thunder made it to you, nearly vibrating your ear canals.

You kept a good distance behind the rowdy group of pirates. Watching them as they split off into different shops that still happened to be open. Along with puffball and blondie walking into the only bar in town.

It was a well built brick building but showed clear signs of age. The old rickety sign fluttering in the wind on squeaky chains. A warm glow emitting from the few windows that lined the building. You hesitated for only a moment. Not wanting to walk in with them at the front of the bar. You hoped they would sit down somewhere. Give you time to think about what you wanted from a distance.

So you adjusted your clothes and hair a bit, willing your confidence to take the helms before you finally stepped through the wooden door, letting it creak open loudly before swinging shut. Eyes flickering over your surroundings with quick succession.

There was a fireplace off to your right hand side. You eyed it for a moment watching the low crackle of a small fire caught within the hearth. A few plush lounge chairs surrounded it with small tables covered in ashtrays and magazines. The bar was in the center of the large room. You noticed the dark oak bar looked freshly polished as you made your way up to it. The glass bottles lining the shelves behind it were glistening in the low warm lighting of the room. Booths were lined up on all the walls and even went behind the bar. A step or two leading down into the more private area in the back.

There was a decent sized crowd lingering in the seats but the overall vibe was quiet as per usual for your island. You weren’t used to going into bars so the culture and mannerisms were a bit foreign to you. But you tried your best as you eased down on a barstool. Focusing on getting a drink and settling in before you’d let your eyes wander to find the men of the hour. A short and stout woman on the other side of the bar walked over to you. Offering a curt smile before leaning forward attentively.

“Whaddya having?” She asked softly, swiping the edge of her blonde bob behind her ear. You searched your brain realizing you hadn’t a clue what you wanted to drink. Landing on the first thing that popped in your mind you responded, “Can I get a daiquiri?”

“Coming right up.” She gave you another quick nod and started walking off towards the other end of the bar. You didn’t want to look too suspicious staring around at the room but it was rather dimly lit in most places. Turning your head slightly to look behind you as you traced over the booths you made out a few old men sharing a pitcher of beer and a couple loners like yourself.

Other than that there was no duo to be seen.

Goddamn it. They must be in the back room.

The bartender walked back over towards you. A rounded glass with a medium sized stem sliding across the wood. The edge rimmed with sugar and a sliver of lime floating on the edge. “Thank you.” You mumbled looking between her and the drink before grabbing it.

She simply just smiled and started to walk away again. But before she could leave you spoke up. “Can I ask you a question?” She turned her head back towards you, eyes a bit wide but polite regardless.

“Sure, what is it?”

“Do you happen to keep some newspapers on hand? I didn’t see anywhere I could buy one.” You asked her, thumb absentmindedly rubbing across your glass.

“Ooh sorry, must’ve forgot to pull out the newspaper stand out today.” She said politely, quickly bounding over to a small chest on the floor. You watched her and leaned forward a bit to see over the edge of the bar as she squatted down. She pulled open the chest and inside was stacks upon stacks of newspapers lined up neatly.

“What date were you looking for? I keep all the recent newspapers on hand for customers.” She asked, looking back up at you. You chewed your lip for a second, a bit unsure exactly what to ask for.

“Well umm I’m looking for any headline about pirates. Anything within the last two weeks maybe? I can look so you don’t have to.” You told her, feeling a bit bad that this woman seemed so adamant about flipping around through some newspapers for you.

She simply shook her head and grinned once more. “It’s not biggie. I don’t mind taking a minute or two to look. Pirates you say? I think I remember seeing a newspaper with a headline about pirates a while ago actually.” She started flipping through the newspapers, keeping her eyes on them as she spoke to you. “What pirates are you thinking of though?”

“I’m not too sure. Well I know who but I don’t know their names. You…might’ve served them? They came into the bar not too long after I showed up.”

When you said that her head immediately perked up, looking up and over at you as if you were a ghost. “That redhead? Yeah I served him.” She said before looking away and back down at the newspapers. Her fingers made quick work to find what you were looking for. “I guess I was…right about them being pirates. I see a lot of pirate folk in this bar…but that redhead seemed different. Like his britches were a bit bigger than the rookies that usually roll through here.”

You didn’t respond to what she had said. She was right of course. Lots of pirates rolled through here but most just stocked up and left quicker than they came. The noble town up north on your island is filled with marines who didn’t bat an eye when one of the people in your village died.

Your town was nice but if there was ever a day you didn’t give the pirates exactly what they wanted. Or even worse someone actually tried to fight back when they stole. Things would get ugly fast until eventually someone had to step in and in most cases it was your father. Yet this village was just a pit-stop so most pirates were too wide-eyed and excited about facing the New World to stick around.

“Oh here we go,” the bartender whispered out, holding a newspaper gently between her hands and looking it over. “Huh. Kid Pirates. Funny name for a man so large.” She mumbled out, standing up and turning around to hand you the newspaper. You grabbed it and gave her a weak smile. “Thank you.”

“No problem. Hopefully it has what you’re looking for.” She started down to the other end of the bar to help out customers. Leaving you alone with the newspaper and the faint quiet crackle of the fire. You were a bit hesitant to look at it. Feeling like you might see something that would change your mind about messing with them. So you took a sip of your drink first, feeling the sweet and sour rum slide down your throat and land like lead in your stomach.

You flipped open the newspaper and pitched it between your hands. Eyes gliding over way too much information at once.

It was a picture of the redhead front and center. Or moreover two pictures of him. One where he looked just a bit younger and the other more akin to what you had seen earlier though he still had his other arm. The newer picture was him standing on the coast of an island. A small town behind him that was…on fire. Tall hellish flames and pitch black smoke rising up and out of shot.

Well…that doesn’t seem good. You thought, swallowing hard. Though surprisingly that picture didn’t freak you too much. But the other one sure did.

He looked younger and a little thinner. His smooth coat and loose pants were a mismatch of colors and patterns. Bare chested and two armed he stood within what looked like a street. The amount of jewelry and off putting ‘swagger’ made you nearly giggle. But when you saw what you could only assume were citizens tied up and nailed to a cross you did in fact, not giggle.

So he’s into torture and wore fugly clothing is basically what I’m getting from this.

You pinched the bridge of your nose. Letting one half of the newspaper fall before picking it up again. Not exactly surprised but not pleased either.

The headline was “The Kid Pirates reemerged into the New World: Slaughtering civilians once again.”

Well shit.

A/N: HOPE YOU LIKED THIS LONG ASS CHAPTER <3 I feel like we all just want Kid and Y/N to like…talk more. Believe me they will of course I just really need to set the scene. Plus Kid is grumpy and in pain so he doesn’t feel like interacting with anyone so it makes sense. But the next chapter THEY WILL TALK and something BAD MIGHT HAPPEN. So uhhh…strap in boys it’s getting bumpy after this one. ALSO PEEP THE Y/N LORE HINTS.

[azurbright]

Most of yall said you'd like to see this tutorial on how to make the cubito heads. So here I am, ready to serve the people. I'll be making Doc, but obviously this tutorial works for whoever you'd like to make.

Technically, the poll hasn't ended, but like forty people said they wanted a tutorial and I had time to make one today, so here you go.

Tutorial under the cut

Materials you'll need.

1 10x10 inch canvas (or you can use whatever size you want as long as it's square)

Paint Brushes, specifically the flat edge ones

Acrylic paint. (You could probably use whatever paint you have on hand, but acrylic is the best for this)

A mixing plate, for your colors, I'm not a professional, so I use a paper plate.

Pencil, to map out your squares.

Ruler, to make sure your lines are very even. (My rulers small, I couldn't find the big one, I'd really recommend a regular 12 inch.)

Alright, now move everything to the side, grab your canvas, your pencil, and your ruler.

The first thing you'll do is use your ruler and find the center of the canvas. If you're using a 10 inch, the center should be at 5 inches. Once you find the center, draw a line directly down the center using the ruler to keep ot straight.

After you do that, you'll want to find the center of each side. The left side measurement should be 2.5 inches, and the right side should be at 7.5 inches. Once you find draw a line.

Now, you should have 4 equal segments. On each of those 4 segments, find the center and draw a line directly down.

Alrighty, now you've got 8 (mostly) even lines, turn your canvas 90 degrees and do it all again. Find the center.

Once you've drawn that line you know what to do, find the center of the two different segments you made and draw a line.

Nowww, you'll have to do it 4 more times, find the center of each and draw line down.

And now, you've got a mostly perfect grid.

Next, you'll find a photo of your specific MCYTs head. Mine is Doc.

It doesn't really matter which colour you decide to start with, but do all the colours of that value first. I'm going to start with the blacks.

I guess it's quite simple really, just paint the black where the black goes.

It doesn't have to be perfect, but try to stay in the lines. Then add the lighter values, your grays and whites.

From there, I added the Red in. To make the darker reds, I just mixed black in with the reds.

And then the green

And the final touches of brown, which I usually do browns last because I can mix together all the colors I already made to make it.

And you can hang him up on the wall with all his other friends <3

So anyways, I hope this was a decent tutorial, and it helps you make one of these cute little guys. If you have any questions on how to mix colors or the process, feel free to ask, I'd never judge you for asking.