#I still need to backup shit from my old laptop too

[cadere-art]

tfw you procrastinate on a task for litteral years and when you finally get to it it only takes you an hour and a half.

[neon-danger]

I keep EVERYTHING and it's probably why I keep running out of space to keep backups as my screenshots folder is about as big as mods folder and if not for me constantly taking out old saves to ALSO backup it would also be as massive. I really need to get like a massive drive that won't kill itself on me and put a million backups in there. I have no shame, I share shit with friends too and I have screenshots going back to my old crappy laptop in 2018. God I want bands so bad in Sims 4. I have modded drums but they are not the same, and they also broke pianos for me at the same time. I use Clubs as makeshift bands but it's not THE SAME and I've heard everyone sing and play guitar so many times I can just tell who is doing it despite all Sims having the same singing voice for some reason. I just KNOW who is more likely to just start singing or pull out a guitar and start doing it and who is more often distracted by flirting.

I'm inconsistent with building as it takes me forever to make a layout and it makes me doubt myself endlessly and I hate making roofs. But I like furnishing and doing layouts, I just try so hard to avoid making boxes that I give myself pain trying to make it 'interesting'. Which usually just means L shapes, how exciting and different. I think I've played too much Minecraft as I do the exact same fucking thing there.

I also can't build anything but houses. Every time I built anything else it failed spectacularly. I keep my awful restaurant because Alex works there and it's fun to sexually harass him at work and restaurants seem to work better without mods meant to fix them for some fucking reason for me, but I built a park once and it was so awful I deleted it from existence. WHY did that mod make restaurants break for me, chefs never showed up but waiters still did, so DUMB. It's supposed to make them work better, but it works better without it.

I feel like some of my friends would be chill with me sharing my save file screenshots but like,,, I don’t take that many

I use the in game camera so my sims can have memories and that’s usually what’s clogging my screenshot folder tbh

Anytime I use screenshots it’s more for story telling

I use a lot of Pinterest floor plans that I’ll usually modify to fit my needs. I have a comfort build that’s basically just My Happy Place with an entirely made up floor plan based on a maladaptive daydream universe I still can’t completely let go of. When life is really bad I put myself sim in with my para parents and just,,,, heal my inert child

Tbh even looking at architecture for inspiration can help in creating your own floor plans as well

A lot of ea floor plans are complete shit so I’ll go in and fix it without editing the ea shell

My only dine out issues are the constant resetting of my sims and the unreasonably long wait times so I haven’t ever really used any dine out fixes. I don’t normally play as a restaurant owner tho so maybe that’s why.

I’ve been really into midcentury architecture lately so I built a 1970s diner the other day but yeah it was not cute

Anyone who can build a restaurant is talented fr

[obxfics]

puppybowl sunday

summary: you spend the day cuddled up watching the puppy bowl

pairing: john b x reader x jj

word count: 1654

a/n: i got inspiration watching the puppy bowl so... here we are lol also when tf is season 2 coming i want more motivation to write and shit please anyways enjoy (also this could technically belong to the “you against the world” universe but also... idk where it would fit lmao so if you want to imagine it like that have at it)

Masterlist

john b groaned as something woke him up. he had been deep in sleep, something he appreciated considering how many late night grocery or food runs he had to do for the residents of figure eight, when he felt someone shift as they laughed. he blearily opened his eyes to see you, sitting up with your back against his headboard and one of his arms flung across your waist, frozen with your hand clapped over your mouth. obviously you hadn't been meaning to laugh that hard.

"what are you doin' up so early?" he rasped, his voice kinda scratchy from sleep.

you smiled down at him and ran a hand through his thick hair, giggling when your fingers got all tangled up in it. "hon, it's two in the afternoon."

he lifted his head real quick and pouted when he saw that jj wasn't included in the cuddle pile. "shit, did i miss jj going off to work?"

"mhm. don't worry, though, i got some food into him and made sure he was wearing his mask. also put the fear of god into him if he didn't wash his hands throughout the day."

john b breathed out a laugh as he imagined you yelling at jj to stay safe at work. almost a year into the pandemic, and jj and john b had spent the whole time quaranting in the chateau to the best of their ability. it had been months since they had seen kie or pope in person for longer than a few minutes, and usually that was only when john b pulled up to the wreck to pick up delivery orders or when jj and john b helped pope's dad with grocery deliveries. at the beginning of everything, you had been spending quarantine with your boys since school was all online and your parents' restaurant was closed. a month or so in, however, regulations had been lifted and the people of figure eight all but demanded for them to reopen, and so you went back home to help your parents with the restaurant and to keep jj and john b safe from anything you could have possibly brought back to them.

you had practically locked them in the chateau, leaving them threatening voicemails if they even thought about going out, but as two months turned into three turned into four turned into five, you realized that the boys needed their jobs as there seemed no end in sight to the pandemic. so jj returned to his job at the country club, and john b got a job busing tables at your family's restaurant. you moved back in to quarantine with them as school started, and you spent practically your whole savings on getting a backup generator and high speed wifi for the chateau so if anything happened, you all would be good. and, despite living through a worldwide panda express, you were quite happy.

beside you, john b shifted his head to rest on your lap so he could see what you were watching on your laptop that had you laughing so hard. a smile grew on his face when he saw the puppies running around on the "football field" and jumping all over the "ref." he looked up at you and felt his chest blossom with warmth at the way you smiled at the puppies and giggled when they flopped over.

"did you really wake me up watching the puppy bowl?"

"hush up," you laughed, "it's a tradition, and you know it. 'sides, you can't tell me you aren't enjoying this as much as i am. i've seen how you and jj get with dogs. y'all may love them more than you love me."

"aw, honey, that's not true," john b cooed. "you know how much we love you. obviously i love you more since i didn't go to work during the puppy bowl, but you know, that's to be expected."

you shook your head and lightly swatted at his stomach. you knew he wasn't being serious. john b loved jj just as much as he loved you, and the feeling was mutual from jj. the three of you had a good thing going, a relationship full of understanding and compassion, and it had taken y'all a long time to get there. you all had things to work through, like jj's daddy issues, john b's abandonment issues, and your trauma from your previous relationship with rafe cameron, but you had gotten through it together, and this quarantine had actually brought y’all closer together which had surprised everyone.

“jj’s gonna be sad that he missed it,” you sighed.

“we’ll just rewatch it with him,” john b assured you. “and we can watch the old ones too.”

there was shuffling as the both of you wriggled around to get into a more comfortable position. at one point the two of you had to lunge to catch the laptop from falling to the floor, but eventually you settled in with john b curled around you and the blankets and pillows providing a sort of nest and elevated stand for the laptop. the room was filled with the soft sounds of puppy barks and whines, and your giggles when one of the dogs did something particularly cute, and john b let out a quiet sigh as he allowed himself to relax against you.

“i think we should get a dog,” you mumbled sleepily as john b clicked on last year’s broadcast. “we can add another cutie to our cuddle pile.”

there was some incoherent whining on your part before you dozed off in his arms. he did his best to focus on the puppies on the screen, but soon he too fell asleep with his face buried in the crook of your neck. that was how jj found you two when he stumbled into the room later that night as he yanked his tie from his neck. he stilled in the doorway, a soft smile pulling at his lips when he saw the two people he loved most in the world all snuggled up together. and then he saw what was pulled up on the laptop.

“oh you assholes!”

the both of you jolted awake, your hand smacking john b in the face as you moved to make sure the laptop wouldn’t fall off the bed. john b rubbed at his eyes and turned to blink up at jj.

“hey, how was work, babe?”

jj shook his head as you rolled over and made grabby hands, obviously asking for cuddles. he put his hands on his hips and frowned down at the pair of you.

“i cannot believe y’all are watching the puppy bowl without me.”

“um... in my defense,” john b started, “they were already watching when i woke up.”

“dude!” you turned your head to scowl at your boyfriend. “jj, baby, come cuddle with us, and we can turn it back on.”

as he kicked his shoes off and rifled around the dresser for comfy clothes, jj shook his head. john b let out a laugh when he realized what he was getting at.

“no can do, babe,” jj told you, smirking at john b as he let his work shirt slide off his shoulders. “the superbowl starts soon, and we’re watching it.”

you fell back on the bed and let out a loud groan. you had been hoping the boys would be too tired to watch the football game. you lifted yourself up on your elbows and glared at the two of them.

“i am legitimately only watching your stupid sportsball for the weeknd. after that i will be passing the fuck out.”

jj laughed and wrapped his arms around you as he flopped down between you and john b. you couldn’t keep your glare on your face when you felt your cheek hit his bare chest. you had missed him all day. there were a few laughs and giggled--and a couples groans of pain--as the three of you got all comfortable on the queen sized bed. finally you and john b sandwiched jj, john b spooning the blonde boy as you nestled in within the warmth of jj’s arms.

“don’t he kiss his kid on the mouth?” you mumbled as one of the players ran out on the field.

a wheeze left jj’s chest as john b shouted his laugh out, causing you to smirk. you had absolutely no clue as to what was happening in the game, or even had any idea as to who the teams were, because like you told the boys, you were only watching for the weeknd concert, and you were getting more and more anxious waiting for it.

“wait, i thought both teams were supposed to be good. why does one team already have like three touchdowns and the other doesn’t have any?”

“honey,” john b said, attempting to hold in his laugh, “just watch and enjoy the game.”

you rolled your eyes, making jj smile fondly. “hon, how am i supposed to enjoy a game i don’t even understand?”

“do you want us to explain?” jj offered sweetly.

“absolutely not. i appreciate it, baby, but i’m too pretty for that.”

jj snickered and pressed a kiss into your hair. “of course you are, babe.”

you nuzzled your nose against his collarbone and tugged your hand from between the boys to gently scratch at john b’s scalp. a hum rumbled deep within the brunette’s chest at the action.

“i love y’all,” you whispered into jj’s skin. “even if y’all make me watch football.”

“well we love you too,” jj returned with a kiss to your cheek and john b’s arm.

“even if you make us watch the weeknd,” john b teased.

“hey! you better appreciate abel or i swear i’m moving out!”

taglist (ahaha heyyy it’s been a while so tell me if y’all want to be removed): @damndunner​ @scandalousfemale @shawnssongs​ @kikifromtheblock​ @write-from-the-heart​ @kurtsconner​ @thatjohnd​ @abbiesthings​ @heavenlymama​ @strangerthanfiction713 @alexis-marrt022 @brithedemonspawn​ @obxsummer​

[darkacademicfrom2021]

The Dark Team (part 13)

<<Previous part Masterlist   Next part>>

(Taglist: @lucywrites02, @louieboo87, @the-departed-potato, @jesuswasnotawhiteman, @idontknow296, @beksib, @spythoschei, @geekwritersworld, @whatafuckingdumbass, @mysticunicorn7 @shadowolf993 @toe-vind-ek-jou @joscelyn02, @t00-pi, @irwxnhugsx )

Warnings: creepy man, hungover (alcohol mentions), abduction mentions.

Chirping birds woke you up as the light hit your face. It was a slightly sunny morning, you could see. A cold one, too. Your head ached; yesterday’s wine was stronger than you’d think. You remembered very little, and the hangover weighed on your feet as you tried to stand up. Soon, that weight redistributed up to your head, dizziness almost throwing you back in bed.

With much more effort than before, you got up and walked slowly to the kitchen, glancing around. Last night, a sticky kid fell asleep on the doorframe. You chuckled and decided to not wake him up. Loki was nowhere to be found; must be sleeping in his own room, if he had one by then.

An ibuprofen and some cold water later, you checked the time. It was so early; six in the morning. You decided to get working already; maybe someone on the team was awake. If not, you could at least take things off your to-do list for the day and get time free at noon to play videogames with Peter, or help him with that Lego Stark Tower he has been trying to build for almost two weeks now. A nice walk in the park to get some fresh air until some coffee shop opened; that’s what you needed.

The streets were emptier than you’d imagine, and then you realized it was saturday. Peeping in, a coffee shop next block was already opening, and people were lining up to get in. You made sure to have brought money and a laptop with you, and as you reached your pockets you realized you had your suit on, under normal clothes. Well, at least I’m prepared for anything now. Even a sunday morning in a lovely coffee shop, you thought, laughing to yourself. If Tony saw you like this, he’d recall that word he says you inherited from him. Paranoid. But no, Stark, I’m just hungover. Good to know your first instinct once you get up off bed is to suit up. Tony'd be proud. And a little disappointed, too.

You got a table far from the window, wall behind your back making sure nobody could eye your laptop. Once you were settled in and your coffee was getting cold, you started working. You were so glad you were out of the public eye, so you could afford yourself all of these outside activities. Sounded stupid, but if you were to have dinner with Sam, or Steve, or Thor, you’d have to also deal with paparazzis all night long. Actually, in dining out with Thor, paparazzis would be the least of your problems.

“Hey”, greeted Bucky from the other line. “It’s so early, what are you doing up?”.

“Buck, it’s already ten”.

“Oh”, he said, and you heard a sliding curtain by his side. “Oh, there it is. Sunlight”.

“Why are your times all twisted?”.

“We stayed up until five”.

“Doing what?”.

“Let’s say the mini bar was not so mini”.

“Oh my God”, you laughed, and checked for your work on the laptop. “At this point, I think the only one who didn’t get drunk last night is Spidey. Ah. Listen, I’ve arranged today’s plan, and it has to go right or else you can get abducted again. And we don’t want that, okay?”.

“I’m not sure what we’re supposed to do now. Didn’t we already get the stick?”.

“That’s the point, there’s more… you know, bottles hanging around” you lowered your voice. The coffee shop was almost empty, but just in case, you kept it under your breath. “That’s why you gotta get into Hydra’s last base again. Do not go alone”.

You instructed Bucky and then he tried his best to put you on speaker to the rest of the team, but failed. None of them could actually figure out how to do it; Steve was even less familiar with cell phones, and Thor… well, not even elaborating on him. The only Asgardian who seemed familiar enough with Midgard’s technologies was sleeping soundly on the compound. You had to explain the plan thoroughly another two times individually, and then finally hung up and got to work, sending them coordinates and turning off Hydra’s hacked security cameras.

Once they were already in, you had not much more to do. At least for a few hours, they’d be completely submerged in there, and your help wasn’t needed anymore. You still planned for some outcomes and didn’t even notice the man standing in front of you.

“Excus…”.

“OH... my God”, you gasped, taking yourself off your hyper focused state. The man chuckled. His teeth, yellow, seemed like he didn’t know anything about dental hygiene. His clothes were perfectly cleaned, though, in a tidy office-type suit; but his hair was hidden by a peaked cap that barely let you see his eye expressions. Very weird looking. Hard to read. Just now unemployed? Dressed like that to get attention? You frowned and closed all tabs, opening a fake account of email and some cheap online magazine. “What do you need?”.

“Can I sit here?”.

“No”.

He smiled weirdly and manspreaded in the chair you told him not to sit in. You sighed and rolled your eyes.

“What are you doing?”, he asked.

You ignore him and keep pretending to read your mails, eyeing how many people were in there too. It was getting fuller than before. If he wanted to steal your laptop he’d have to do it in front of all of these people, and cross the whole coffee shop. He wasn’t planning on stealing. You made a security copy of all the files anyways.

“You have pretty eyes”.

You ignored him again, but now understood his intentions. God, people could be so shameless sometimes. You literally told him to go away. You’ll repeat it, just in case he would actually listen this time.

“Go away”.

He chuckled and stayed in place.

“I just want to talk, sweetie”.

“Sure. I’m not interested”.

“You have a boyfriend?”.

“I have a very strong fist”.

He got closer, leaning on the table, and lowering his voice said “You’re working on the supersoldiers mission, yes?”.

You froze. Suddenly, the creepy man was a bigger threat than you’d anticipated. Your hand hovered over the gun in your pocket, holding strong eye contact with him.

“Who are you?”.

“What do you have in your pocket?”, he teased.

“Wanna find out?”, you threatened.

Looking over his shoulder, an all-too-familiar fifteen year old hid behind a pile of coffee cups from the bar counter, holding his breath to not laugh. You sighed and broke the tension.

“Funny. Very funny. I almost shoot you, you know”.

“That’s not a very good instinct”.

“Not an instinct, I truly wanted to shoot you”.

“You sure were, pancake”, he said as he transformed back into himself, still in those ugly clothes covering half his face. As he looked down to himself, he frowned and changed his clothes to an Asgardian armor. “But your mortal bullets would be no more than a caress to my skin”.

“Let’s give it a try, shall we?”, you cocked your gun, joking. He laughed, and Peter got increasingly nervous as you played with your toys in a public and safe place, surrounded by civilians. “Don’t worry, Pete, it’s fake”.

Peter sighed in relief as you clarified and put it back in your pocket, and Loki smirked, knowing perfectly well you just lied.

“Why don’t we get something to drink, too, mr. Loki?”.

“Yeah, whatever you want, kid”.

“Not a kid”.

“Apologies. Actually, can you order it? I’m afraid Midgardians don’t usually take kindly to my presence”, he asked. Peter nodded.

“I do, mr. Loki”.

"What?".

"Take it kindky".

Loki smiled and raised his eyebrows, a bit confused. Muttered an “I’m glad” and instructed him to get an americano, while you packed your laptop in the backpack.

"How's the incognito working out for you in your shiny armor?"

"Better than before. At least now I'm comfortable while getting the same bad looks I always get anyways".

"Shapeshifter can't manage to hide, how ironic", you said, giving him one of the new earbuds, with an attachable mic. "Since you have good strategy plans and you sort of know what you're doing, work with me".

"I thought we were already working together. You know, in this stupid thing called The Dark...".

"Yeah", you interrupted him, rolling your eyes once again. "From behind the scenes, I mean. This is so you can listen to whatever my earbud hears. Don't bite your tongue if you have any inputs, I'm running out of solutions".

Your phone rang again as you were getting up.

“Yes?”.

“It’s all gone to trash, y/n. We need a new plan, I can’t find Buck anywhere. What’s your backup?”, rushed Steve’s voice. It sounded like it was from a public service phone, and the static didn’t let you hear Steve’s surroundings. Loki looked at the floor, concentrating. He didn't find anything either, and was too far away to read his mind.

“Wait. What do you mean you can’t find him? You were supposed to keep an eye on him so he doesn’t get kidnapped again”, you said, opening your laptop again and looking for Bucky’s location. He didn’t have it on him.

“Yeah, that’s what I meant with ‘it’s all gone to trash’”.

“Okay, don’t freak out. Where are you?”.

“Hydra’s last base, top of the buil…”.

“Hold up, I have another incoming call”. You put him on hold and see who’s calling. It was Bucky, this time. You sigh out of relief. Peter watched you two concerned while approaching you with two coffee cups. You gestured to him to not talk, and Loki had started to type things in your computer. “Buck, where are you? What happened?”.

On the other side of the line, you didn’t get a specific answer. You heard muffled noises that you still couldn’t quite figure out what they meant, and more than one person behind the phone.

“Buck, you there?”, you asked once again. Bucky’s voice filled the silence with a heartrending scream of agony. You almost dropped your phone, and your heart beated to the speed of light. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. They have him. “Buck!”.

“Three hours”, called someone, probably one of the Hydra butchers. “You have three hours”.

“Three hours for what?!”, you tried to hold them on the line while tracing the call. It was from a specific coordinate, nobody could get there unless they teleported. Luckily, you had the perfect person for the job. Loki looked at you quizzically.

"Do we not have better people on it? Can't Stark go?".

You returned to Steve’s call, while thinking about some other alternative than taking you three there (including Peter). “They have Bucky. Location’s very far away from where we all are, so you try to get out of there and go to Asgard with Thor; they’ll try to kidnap you too, and Hydra’s resources are global. No, don’t argue, you screw up, now you do exactly as I say”.

“Do you think they’re the same that hijacked the ship on the first part of the mission?”, asked Loki once you cut the call.

“They might. We have to go get him, there's no other way. The rest of the team comes back tomorrow and they can't leave”.

“No, I have to go”, said Loki. “But I’m supposed to stay with you two and make sure you’re not endangered, and I’m sure if I leave you here all alone, you’ll try to come by your own means”.

“Which means”, you added, “if you take us with you, you can make sure we don’t endanger ourselves”.

“This is a terrible idea”.

“But the only one so far”, you convinced him. “Pete, feeling like going on a dangerous mission?”.

“Hell yeah!”, he said eagerly. Loki was not very fond of his enthusiasm.

“I can do this”, you assured him. “Do you trust me?”.

“Yes”. He didn’t hesitate. “But I don’t trust them. You two will stay behind me facing the danger, alright? Nothing of wanting to play heroes”.

“Got it. Let’s suit up, fellas. Bucky’s waiting”.

[faunusrights]

yeah, all i got is this belly button lint: a happy huntresses short fic

wrote this real quick because i love thinking about the random crap fiona has in her Inventory(tm). also i just like thinking about these clowns in general, so,

=

"Okay, so, what's actually in your Semblance right now?" Joanna asks one day in third year, when Fiona and May have sneaked away to Robyn's dorm to lose at cards and help edit her new batch of flyers promoting union creation in the workplace. Fiona had given a couple a look and accepted them as good enough, but May is weirdly exacting about her standards and is currently trying to convince Robyn to nudge the text headers over by ten pixels to the right. That's why, as she's sat on the floor and wrapped up in the drama of watching Robyn try and slowly fail to ignore May's insistent pleas for her to boot up her editor, Fiona's caught just a little bit off-guard by the question.

"My Semblance?" she asks, and Joanna nods all serious-like from her place on the bunk above Robyn. Joanna often looks very serious, because she suffers from what Robyn calls resting thoughtful bitch face, so sometimes it's hard to gauge how actually serious about something she really is. "I mean, it's probably a mess in there right now."

"I keep forgetting you actually use it like storage space," Robyn adds cheerfully, having now progressed onto shoving May away from her laptop computer every time she tries to creep closer. "Since most Semblances are, y'know, combat-only things or like... special occasions, I guess. And yet here you are, telling people you really don't need a bag for all your groceries!"

It is fun to flex on all the people struggling to carry like six bags to their car or their home, and Fiona preens. "Yeah, it's nice. I mostly keep things in it that I'd wanna have in an emergency, but it's been a while since I last sorted through it, so, who knows what garbage I've put in there."

"Tell me Robyn's braincell is in there too," May says imploringly, still trying to slide an arm around Robyn to get at the keyboard, but Fiona just shakes her head. She can't and won't be blamed for that particular disappearance any time soon. Instead, she rubs her hands together, scrunching up her face as she tests the edges of the Semblance. It's a funny thing, a Semblance like this--she never really has to think about it, but it's always just in reach, like this extra weight in her chest that she can totally forget about. It's strange to think about, so she often just doesn't.

"Okay," she starts, and she goes for the biggest item she can sense, which is an easy one to explain. In her hands materialises an acoustic guitar, worn and scuffed with age, and this attracts to attention of every girl in the room. "Well, this one's easy. This is my guitar, and honestly? If I ever leave it behind in the meatspace and don't pick it up on my way out the door, know that you've just seen my evil clone and you have to kill her."

Joanna blinks, and Robyn seems caught between asking about the guitar, the evil clone, and also the fact that Fiona insists on referring to the physical world as the meatspace. So, she does as Robyn does best, and settles on an expletive. "Shit! You play?"

"Been playing since I was... like seven? Something like that." Fiona shrugs, because she really can't be sure; her first vague memory of even seeing this guitar was a long time ago, her uncle telling her it used to belong to her grandmother who'd never managed to learn a damn thing on it. So, Fiona had taken up practice, if only because it was something for a little lowlands Mantellian Faunus to do during the long, cold polar nights and the endless sunshine of the midnight sun. "But, yeah, this is always on me in some form or another."

"You should've played it whilst we were on watch our last mission," May says, with a certain scowl that Fiona knows is 100% directed at their team leader, who is currently off doing... some sort of bullshit with their partner, no doubt. Gods, this team is a nightmare. "All those hours trying to stay awake so we could stare into nothing..."

"Sorry," Fiona says, and she means it. She'd intended to, but, well, she'd sort of chickened out. The echo in the mountains is kind of insane. "Next time?"

May nods, but Joanna cuts off whatever she's about to say next by waving her hands through the air like she can physically dissipate the conversation. "Okay, okay, cool, but now I gotta else you got hiding in there."

Re-compressing her guitar--and oh, is Fiona thankful that dematerialising and rematerialising it doesn't leave it out of tune--Fiona has a mental root around. "Uh, okay, so, we've got--"

In no particular order, she starts pulling things out: a pair of thick gloves for the brutal Solitas chill, an extra pair of socks (hugely understated by most, but never by Fiona), a ushanka that Robyn instantly cheers for, and a couple of jackets ranging from light windbreakers to thick furred jackets that feel like she's wearing a mattress around her ribs. Her Scroll and wallet are in there too, naturally, as are her keys and some extra ammunition, and she pulls out a load of old train tickets with a grimace. "Hm. I was meant to throw these away years ago."

"You're basically carrying around a wardrobe in there, then?" May asks in a way that'd maybe be a little teasing if she didn't look about as jealous as she sounds, but it becomes a thoughtful expression when Fiona shakes her head again.

"Bold of you to think I haven't got a whole pantry in here too," she says, and now Joanna looks very interested. "Check this out."

The first thing she pulls out is a gallon jug of clean water--endlessly fucking useful, she's found, especially when you're in some situation where you can't sit on your ass for an hour waiting for the water purification tablets to do their job--before pulling out a whole host of Atlesian MREs that she keeps around just in case shit really does hit the fan. Atlas rations are... not good, in a phrase, but she's owed them her life more than once, so, whatever.

"What dates are on those?" May quickly interrupts with a critical eye, trying to make out the printed numbers on the snow-patterned packets, and Fiona tosses her one if only to distract May's hands from trying to puzzle out Robyn's password when Robyn isn't directly paying attention.

"Things don't really degrade in my Semblance," Fiona admits. "I've tested it before on stuff with a short shelf-life, like cheese and milk, and honestly I can leave it in there for months and have it come out just as fresh as when it went in. Something to do with a sort of... internal stasis, I guess." Then, she adds, "One thing in my Semblance is a goldfish in a bowl, but he's part of a practical theory I'm running, so I can't materialise him for another fifteen years or so."

"That sounds very normal," Joanna says, and Fiona is glad she agrees as she barrels right over the inherent sarcasm.

As May agonises over finding the date, though, Fiona continues to unveil her pantry--there's plenty of snacks, like dried fruit and nuts and energy bars and chocolate, and when she reveals she carries extra for every member of her team and then some (then some in this instance being Robyn and Joanna, not that she'll admit it), Robyn looks delighted. "That's so sweet! Look at you, making sure nobody goes hungry. You're one in a million."

That's cute and very gay, but Fiona has a lot of stuff to be working through and so she keeps on going--there's a flask of coffee that, thanks to the maybe-stasis, is eternally hot, a bottle of dark Mantellian ale she keeps as, uh, moral support, and she blushes when she pulls out half an uneaten tuna sandwich. "I wondered where that went. Whoops."

May looks up from the MRE for a second, and then does a double-take as she takes in the sight of the very limp and sad-looking sandwich, made courtesy of the Atlas Academy cafeteria. "Wait! Isn't that the sandwich you accused me of stealing last month?!"

"Anyway!" Fiona says with a forced grin, quickly making it disappear back into the void where it can safely continue not existing. "I think the final thing in here is... wait."

She blinks, and suddenly in her hands are at least a hundred little booklets entitled The Pocket Guide to Communist Outreach, scattering right over the floor. Robyn yelps, and then reaches down the side of her bunk to pick them up. "Oh shit! I forgot I asked you to hold onto these! I thought we ran out, nice."

Joanna's face is in her hands, and May sighs long and hard before tossing the MRE back to Fiona with a distinctly pained expression.

"It goes out of date in a month," she notes with distaste, and Fiona just sucks it up without a word. She'll be thankful for it when they end up down a dark cave with no backup, but Fiona figures she'll sit on that one for a bit before being able to make the greatest told you so call in history. She can wait.

"So," she says, watching as May takes advantage of Robyn's momentary distraction to try and access her computer again. "I guess... do you wanna hear me play a song?"

Joanna watches as her partner leans too far over the side of the bunk, yelping as she nearly slams her head directly into the hard vinyl of the floor, and she grimaces. "Please do."

Grinning, Fiona finds her guitar again--somewhere buried, she mentally notes, beside the gallon of water but under the coats--and she slings the broad strap about her shoulders before settling it on her lap, crossing her legs tightly beneath herself before finding her place on the fretboard. After having not played since being back home, it relaxes her more than she'd ever realised it did. It helps to be surrounded by friends, though. Helps to be with family.

"I don't take requests," she adds, flatly, and Robyn laughs from her place on the floor before music fills the dorm, soft and deep and achingly familiar of a place far, far below.

But she's okay with calling this place home, too.

[pilothusband]

Abducted Amphora

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol (not to an excess), food mention (they eat pizza), non-explicit tension, mentions of stealing shit, hints at a boss/employee relationship so there’s a slight power balance there, age gap that isn’t mentioned (he has years of service and she’s almost brand new)

Word count: 1,972

Author’s note: Written for @autumnleaves1991-blog Writer Wednesday! Lightly edited, unbeta’d. This one is pretty tame compared to my other works. Thinking about turning it into a snapshot series. Let me know what you think!

A smattering of footsteps clatter throughout the courtyard, echoing off the old walls that surround you. Sprawling greens adorn almost every inch of the balcony, reaching out to an impossibly blue pool situated in the middle. You can’t help but gawk as you walk through the museum, trailing your boss by a few paces who is currently following the curator, a middle-aged woman with bouncy curls and a wardrobe to die for.

A few minutes prior, she had introduced herself as Vanessa Harrington, given a firm handshake to the two of you, and hastily made her way to the exhibit where an expensive piece of artwork was stolen.

“What’s weird is, this isn’t even the most expensive piece the museum owns,” she says, glancing backwards and waving her hands. How she manages to walk briskly in stiletto heels without looking forwards is a mystery to you. 

The stolen piece is a Panathenaic amphora from Hellenistic era Greece. It was most likely used to fill with olive oil to give to Olympic champions. Not to say it isn’t valuable, but it had sat nondescript amongst bright and flashy paintings that were incredibly rare and sought after.

“And the security cameras were disabled prior to the theft?” Your boss, Marcus Pike asks, scribbling in his notepad. Vanessa nods in confirmation. “Then they were enabled right after, as if the thieves knew how to hack into the system.”

“Either they knew how to hack into the security system or they had enough insider knowledge to disable it,” you voice your thoughts, not even aware that you were speaking out loud.

Marcus looks over to you, his warm brown eyes flicking over your face in acknowledgement.

Every time his eyes meet yours, you feel yourself freeze up for a moment. No matter that you’ve been working with him for nearly a year, it’s as if time stops every time you look at him. His jaw, square and strong, along with his soft brown eyes that give away to his emotions at any moment. His broad shoulders always manage to get your pulse going, along with his small waist, showcased by the form-fitting button downs he wore under his suit coat.

“We’re going to need all information regarding museum personnel, as well as any vendors that drop by regularly,” Marcus shifts his attention over to Vanessa, who nods decisively.

“Absolutely. I have that all on my office desktop and can get that to you ASAP.”

Vanessa doles out more details for a few minutes and Marcus jots them down– in his unreadable handwriting no doubt– and then Vanessa bids you adieu and spins on her heel to her office, giving you two free rein over the museum.

There isn’t anymore DNA evidence to go over. The local police already had their personnel collect it days prior and the scene was spotless once you arrived. The thieves had been meticulous in leaving as little evidence as possible. The only fingerprints found were already processed and pending a match. They were most likely from an employee, and there’s a good chance it was just normal prints left behind from dusting priceless artwork.

Once Vanessa is out of the room, Marcus turns and places a big hand on your bicep.

“Good job back there, agent.” He flashes an easy grin. Marcus is an incredible boss. He’s driven, observant, kind, and knows when he has to make the tough calls. He’s a natural-born leader. You haven’t been with the bureau for long, being a junior agent among a team of seasoned professionals, but comparing him to other supervisory agents you have met, he’s warm and kind, always making sure his team is in good shape. He’s the kind of guy who’s prepared for anything, whether it be backup for a shootout with an unsub or someone in the room needs a pen before a staff meeting.

You can’t help but feel flushed at his praise. Despite Marcus’ easygoing nature and his openness with the team, he always seems to keep you at an arms’ length. It was getting to the point where you were wondering if he was regretting hiring you in the first place. Marcus often rotates the team when it comes to working directly with him on cases, and you have only worked directly with him once– your first ever case. 

Initially you’re convinced you fucked up so badly that he didn’t want to pair up with you afterwards, but then the case report made its way back to your desk and your evaluation was normal, good even.

“Thank you,” you reply, ducking your face down to hide the growing heat licking its way up your face.

“Let’s grab some lunch, get those files from Mrs. Harringon and start digging.”

You nod in agreement and turn, walking towards the exit. You don’t notice the subtle movement, but Marcus trails you, arm raised as if he’s about to touch your waist, but pauses halfway through and scratches at his chin.

Later on that night, you’re holed up in Marcus’ hotel room, hunched over your laptop reading up on all of the museum employees. Marcus took on the task of reading over vendor files, his shoulders set much straighter.

Your back is screaming at you and your eyes are sapped of all moisture as you blink rapidly, trying to will your tear ducts into submission. It’s too early in the night to fall asleep with the amount of work you have to look forward to, and the longer it takes you to crack the case, the more likely the thieves are to get away with the crime.

“I think we could use a break,” Marcus says from across the room. You look up blearily, noting the look of concern he’s giving you, brow furrowed. He must have caught you in your tired state somehow, between poring over files and jiggling his leg absent-mindedly.

“Can’t argue with that,” you chuckle, rubbing at your eyes.

“I’ll order room service, compliments of the bureau,” he says, smiling sideways. “I’m feeling pizza, what do you think?”

“Pizza sounds heavenly,” you groan.

“What do you want to drink?” Marcus asks, his eyes scanning over the menu unfolded next to his laptop.

“Oh, uh,” you hesitate, trying to decide on caffeine or something healthier. “I think the room has plenty of water.”

“I was thinking something a little stronger,” he says, a small grin making its way over his features. “Nothing too crazy, since we still have work to do.”

“What’s your opinion on red wine?” You ask, wanting to select something you both can agree on.

“I love it,” he says, giving you a toothy smile. “Pinot Noir?”

“Sounds perfect.”

An hour later, you’re both seated on the floor, pizza box spread open between your bodies, munching away at the slices of pepperoni you both decided on and sharing the bottle of wine Marcus ordered.

“Turns out it’s bad optics for the boss to drunkenly sing 9 to 5 by Dolly Parton off-key, and I still get teased for it to this day, which is why I refuse to join the team on karaoke nights,” Marcus finishes. You’re clutching your stomach as you laugh at his story, head thrown back as you giggle. 

You’ve only had a glass and a half of wine at this point, but you can already feel a persistent buzzing in your brain, your head feeling much lighter and much heavier simultaneously. This is what you get for skipping breakfast and lunch, opting to replace them with an afternoon snack and a late dinner.

Marcus laughs along with you, shaking his head and looking down at his slice of pizza.

Your laughter dies down and there’s a moment where it’s quiet, the only noise in the room being Marcus chewing on the crust of his pizza slice, and you taking a sip from your glass.

“This is a nice change,” you blurt out, immediately regretting your outburst.

“Mmm,” Marcus hums around the bite in his mouth. He swallows and looks up at you in question.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

Your eyes meet after he speaks and you can feel your heartbeat accelerating in your chest. God, why did you have to open your big mouth?

“Oh, nothing,” you shake your head. “It’s just…”

You don’t continue and Marcus shifts on his knees, leaning forwards to spur you on.

“It’s just what?”

“Well, I don’t know, it’s stupid.” You say, studying the box of pizza below you, as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

“Nothing you could ever say is stupid,” he says with conviction. His tone makes you look up at him in wonder.

“Tell me, please,” he adds softly.

“Well, I thought you didn’t like me. Or that you didn’t think I was a good agent.” You can feel your stomach plunging and your cheeks burning at the admission.

“Why would you think that?” Marcus almost looks hurt.

“God, it’s dumb,” you babble. “But I noticed you haven’t had me partner with you on a case in ages, and you seem to get on with the rest of the team so much easier.”

You risk another look into Marcus’ eyes and he looks absolutely crushed. He cards a hand through his locks and his eyes look far away for a moment. You physically deflate, feeling like the biggest asshole on the planet.

“Hey,” he says, scooting forward and moving the pizza box aside. “You’re an amazing agent. Everything I put in your evals are the truth.”

You don’t reply, but smile softly at him.

“I’m so sorry I’ve made you feel undervalued,” he puts a hand on your shoulder and squeezes it. The look on his face, much closer to yours now, is absolutely putting you through the ringer.

Marcus looks disheveled, which is rare for him, as he always looks put-together in the office, not a hair or thread out of place in his tailored suits. His hair is sticking up and his tie is loosened. His brow is furrowed in concern and you have the overwhelming urge to soothe your thumb over it.

“I just–,” he starts and pauses, trying to come up with the right words. “I was so distracted during that case with you, and I never want to put you in that kind of danger again. Especially as a junior agent.”

Distracted?

“What do you mean?” You ask, blinking in confusion. What could have possibly distracted him from the case? This man, so motivated, so focused. He was diligent to a fault, at times.

“I–”

He’s cut off by his cell phone, ringing insistently in his pants pocket. He lifts a finger to pause the conversation and answers the phone.

His expression is focused as he listens to the other end of the line, murmuring affirmations as the call continues.

“Okay, sounds good. We’ll be there first thing in the morning.”

He hangs up the phone, shifts his legs and stuffs it back in his pocket.

“We’ve got a lead on the suspects,” he tells you. “A bodega near the museum has a security camera that caught a large utility van parked in front, right around the time the amphora was stolen. The owner said they’re only available to talk before they open, so we have to be there by 5:30 AM.”

You scramble to your feet and shut your laptop while Marcus clears the pizza and wine. You watch him silently as he finishes the task, noting his stiff shoulders and the carefully neutral expression on his face.

You’ll have to ask Marcus about the conversation later, if you can work yourself up to it. For now, you’ll let your imagination run wild and hope someday you can get over this juvenile crush you have on your boss.

Taglist: @tenderclio @softdin @darnitdraco @freeshavocadoooo @recklessworry @wyn-dixie @manalg14 @codenamewife @comphersjost @princessxkenobi @manalg14 @comphersjost @a-skov @sheresh0y @greeneyedblondie44 @blackmarketmummy @brandyllyn @gracie7209 @bootyliciousbilbo @dobbyjen @vanillabeanlattes @knivesareout​ @fastandfeminist @phrog-seeds @janebby​ @xoxo-callie​

[bucky-iss-bae]

Right Person Wrong Time (Steve x Reader)

Soo this was a request from AGES ago - so sorry for taking so long with it. Hope I’ve done this justice xoxo 

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Fandom: Marvel (MCU)

Request: Would you ever do a Steve imagine of maybe used to be friends or date and one day he sees you in town either pregnant or with a kid so he thinks your married but the father isn’t in the picture for whatever reason you like ❤️❤️

(IF you wanna request something - I’m always available) 

Warnings: None... that I can think of. 

Word Count: 1600

A/N: This was kind of a shambles, I didn't get to do what I imagined when I wrote this, and I’m thinking of doing a part 2... potentially maybe xoxo 

Masterlist

Steve was shocked when he saw you. It had been nearly 2 years since he had last seen you, and letting you go had been the biggest mistake in his life. Yet of all the cafes and coffee shops in Brooklyn, there you sat. A laptop in front of you, papers surrounding you, and coffee, most likely a chocolatey Frappuccino in front of you. He saw a cupcake wrapper, and another cupcake on another plate beside your notebook. He couldn’t help but just stare, in awe of your beauty. You were glowing. He knew how successful you’d become; he was sad that he wasn’t a part of it. But was so proud whenever he saw your name on the front of a book shop, or your book title named as number one.

Yours and Steve’s relationship was the definition of ‘Right person, wrong time’. You were both in love, a love that hasn’t died for him. A love that would never die. But the two of you were in two different parts of your lives, after a hectic few years he was settling back into life, whereas you were in the process of getting your first book published. It was difficult for you both, but you left on good terms, the both of you believing in if its meant to happen, you’ll cross paths once again.

This time he did cross paths with you, you hadn’t noticed him, shocked at that considering Bucky and Sam were arguing behind him over what to order, and Bucky refusing to go beyond black coffee.

But he was too late. He stared at your prodding baby bump realised you were well on your way to having everything you wanted. A family, a baby.

“Holy shit. Is that Y/N” Steve heard Sam ask, Steve turned to tell him to be quiet but it was too late, you had already seen the trio.

You smiled when you saw them, happy to see them, Especially Steve. You were shocked at how your heart still leapt out of your chest when you saw him, all those feelings you’ve harboured deep within you resurfacing. Steve Rogers was your first and only love. Nearly everything about your relationship was perfect, the two of you fit together like a jigsaw piece. You blended in well with his family, despite them being literal superheroes. It just meant that you could ask them questions about how fights work for some scenes in your book, or you were able to ask first-hand information on how different injuries could work. All the research you usually spent hours doing, you could just ask.

But most importantly you were in love with how Steve would do anything for you, he became your person, and his friends became a family to you. He was the one that got away.

You got up when you saw them, you saw Sam and Bucky’s shock to your baby bump, but Steve not as much. He must’ve realised you were here before you had seen or heard them.

“Shit Y/N” Sam said walking up to you and giving you a hug, “I’ve missed you, how you been?” After he hugged you Bucky also went up to you giving you the same treatment,

“You just gonna stand there Stevie?” You asked putting your arms out,

He smiled and hugged you, as soon as he had done, the both of you could feel the warmth and electricity that was still there after all this time.

“You boys in a rush, or did you want to join me?” You asked them,

“We’ve got nowhere to be” Bucky said, warily looking across at Steve, so the three of them went to join you at your table.

“Sorry for all this. It’s just, I’m getting through hopefully the final draft, and its so close to being perfect”

“We read your first one. It was amazing by the way, congratulations.” Bucky said,

“Thank you” You smiled, “That was a different stress, this it’s almost like I need to live up to that same potential. It’s painful because of how many opportunities could come from this”

“Hopefully you’re not stressing too much though huh?” Sam asked, “There’s a lot to congratulate you for”

You chuckled at that and stroked your bump, “Awh, yeah, my life, it’s taken a complete turn. It was a long process, don’t get me wrong. But I’m happy”

Steve’s heart sank slightly at that, knowing you were happy, yet the person you were with wasn’t him. He of course wanted you to be happy, but he figured the two of you would always grow old together.

“You deserve to be happy Y/N” Steve said, speaking up for the first time. His voice still sent shovers down your spine, in a good way of course.

“Who’s the lucky man?” Sam asked diving in straight for the difficult questions, that caused you to laugh a little.

“Don’t get me started Sam. Would you judge me if I said I don’t know” You had a cheeky smile on your face, loving when you told people this.

The three men looked at you confused. They were confused because you were never the type to have one-night stands. Steve instantly worried knowing you would be going through all of this alone.  The other two just shocked at what you said.

“You know, we’ve got an amazing lab, I’m sure with the right DNA sample, someone could find out and track the father down” Sam suggested,

You shook your head, a smile still on your face, risking a glance at Steve, “I meant to get pregnant. Wait no. I went through ‘Artificial Insemination’, I just, I always said that before I turn 30 I want to be a mom. And I know its selfish of me, but I just… I wanted to be a mom, and figured now’s the perfect time. My 2nd book had started going through the editing process when I made the decision. And well after a long and complicated process, 6 months later here I am”

“So you’re single?” Steve asked causing Sam to snort,

You nodded at that, “Yup. As single as I can be, with a bun in the oven though of course”

The two boys looked at Steve, and then you. The two of you making eyes at each other. You were shy to announce that you’re planning on becoming a single mother. But the other two you had seen as brothers, and Steve is Steve. Steve was staring at you with the same look he always gave you. A look that you knew that he was still in love with you, but instead he looked proud.

“Hey Buck, I think they’re calling our name, let’s go” Sam said grabbing Steve from beside you, the two of them leaving.

“I’m sorry. I’ve just been in shock I think since I’ve seen you” Steve mumbled while rubbing his thumb over your hand,

You nodded, “I know. It’s okay though. How have you been?” You asked Steve,

“I’ve… been good. I’ve missed you. That’s for damn sure, but I’ve been good. Better than I was. Living in the Avengers compound at the moment. Rent around here is unnecessary. How about you, I’m just… so prod of what you’ve made of yourself. I always knew that your books would become best sellers. Seeing your name on the shelves. I couldn’t explain the feeling.”

“It means a lot” You whispered, “It shocked me. I didn’t expect to become as big as I had done. A lot of good things have been coming my way since. And with this baby, its like everything for me is nearly perfect”

“Nearly huh?” He asked looking at you with a twinkle in his eyes,

“I mean Mr Rogers, I just… I missed you like hell as well. I always figured you were the one that got away. And seeing you stood there, it just, those feelings never went away”

“They didn’t?” He asked, “Then you should know that I’m still madly in love with you as well.”

“We’ve both changed so much though…”

“I don’t care. Change is good right. We always said if we crossed paths once again…”

“But I’m pregnant” you then added,

“Makes it all the more perfect. Let me take you out. On a date. Let me woo you like I used to, let me make you mine again. Only if you let me”

“You want to still take me out?”

“It’s only ever been you” He said shaking his head, “Everyone knows that.”

You couldn’t help the smile that had crossed your face, everything would really be perfect now if you did have Steve by your side. You eyes were slightly glistening in happy tears, and he had a concerned look on his face,

“It’s hormones” you said shaking your head, “I just… I’m happy. It sounds weird, because I’ve only just seen you. But I’m so happy to see you Steve. It just… it makes everything perfect. I’m being Dramatic I know. But again hormones, me being happy”

He smiled at that, “It’s not being dramatic. I’ve got you Y/N. And I’m not missing any of it from now on. We’ll get back to where we were, and we’ll get there together”

It was true, you believed Steve’s words. Because something about the two of you connected. It always had. Steve believed this to. When he saw you, your pregnant stomach, he still had hope as selfish as it may seem. But a thought that also went through his head that it was too late, he hadn’t loved you enough when it mattered, and now someone else did and you would never be his. The thought crushed him, it broke his heart because for him, you’re it. But he’s been given a second chance, the same way he had done at life, he knew with this second chance, the two of you would start the perfect family.

A/N - Like I said, I wanted this to be better, but it is what it isssss - also nil kinda got some inspo from ‘The Backup Plan’ 

[psycho-slytherin]

Strangers ch. 45

Your fun night with BTS is interrupted by some familiar faces.

Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Actress!Reader

Word count: 2.8k

Genre: fluff, angst, idk

Warnings: Strong language, bit o’ trauma

|mlist|

<–– Prev  Next ––>

You knock at the door, your heart hammering in your chest. You were extra careful getting here – the paparazzi can’t know you’re still going back to the group’s apartment after the ‘breakup.’ 

Hoseok opens the door and lets you in, his usually wide grin somewhat muted. “Y/n-ie! We’ve missed you!”

“I’ve missed you too, Hos-oof!” You half-laugh, half-wheeze when Jungkook comes barreling out of nowhere and crushes you in a bear hug. “Hey, Kookie!”

“Guys!” Jungkook calls elatedly, his long bangs falling in his eyes. “Y/n’s here!”

Taehyung, Namjoon, and Jimin join you in the hallway. Looking around, you notice someone’s missing.

“Where’s…” You blink, snapping your mouth shut. You won’t ask. You don’t care.

“Seokjin hyung is in the kitchen,” Jimin supplies helpfully.

“Ah, okay.” You check the time– 8:30. “Is dinner ready? Can I help?”

There’s a chorus of protests, with the boys insisting you settle in the living room. You’re about to race for Yoongi’s favorite chair, but – argh. Why would you, when he’s not there for you to annoy? 

“I’m sorry. You don’t understand. I can’t.”

You snort. Hasn’t he always asked you to be honest? Hypocrite.

“Y/n-ie?” Hoseok sits next to you on the couch, speaking quietly enough that the others can’t hear him. “Do you want to take your coat off?”

“No, I’m–” cold. “Fine. I’m fine.”

“Look, Y/n…” Hoseok reaches out and places a comforting hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry about Yoongi hyung.”

You muster up a smile. “It’s fine, dude. Like I said, it wasn’t real.”

“Nah, just because you weren’t really dating doesn’t mean it wasn’t real. I don’t know exactly who this new girl of his is – seriously, all of us woke up surprised, including PD-nim. But something’s up with hyung. He never comes out of his studio anymore and doesn’t say anything during rehearsals.”

You stay silent. You don’t want to talk about Yoongi.

“Anyways, I was wondering if you were okay? With… you know.” Hoseok gestures down at your left leg, and you flinch automatically.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Hyung told me about that night you got hurt by some sasaeng.” Hobi looks deep into your eyes, his brows knit together. “We all care about you, Y/n. You got hurt because of us, and that’s not okay. I know Yoongi hurt you too, but I hope you remember the rest of us are still your friends. And we’re all here if you need us.”

You smile, knowing it won’t reach your eyes. “Thanks, Hobi.”

Hoseok nods seriously before scooting back. “By the way, is that what you’re wearing?”

You look down at your jeans and sweater. “Yeah…?”

“Girl, didn’t I tell you we were going out tonight? Taehyung!”

Tae pops out from the kitchen. “Wassup?”

Hoseok waves at you and your outfit. “Fix our girl, please.”

Taehyung’s eyes alight. “Ooh, yes.”

“I- what- but I’m cold!” You protest as Taehyung drags you down the hall.

“We can accommodate that. Come on, Y/n, it’s been ages since I’ve styled anyone!”

But what if I get cold? Seoyeon could hurt me. Lisa could disappear. Next time it could be my head, not my leg. I could die. I can’t be cold. I can’t. I can’t.

“Y/n-ie?” You snap to attention, realizing Taehyung is staring at you with concern etched in his pretty eyes. 

“I– yeah, sorry. Go ahead.” 

Taehyung leads you into his and Namjoon’s room. You realize with a start you’ve never seen it. The walls are covered in posters, photos, and scribbled notes. Unsurprisingly, Taehyung’s closet is gigantic, and you see him rummage through it with intense focus.

“Okay, so. You’re cold all the time. No dresses, then? No shorts or skirts?”

You shiver, remembering the outfits you wore for the commercial with Wonho and for the lipstick photoshoot. “No, thanks.”

“Hm… We could try…” You hear Taehyung’s voice change. “It would be good publicity… I’d have to ask producer-nim.”

“What?”

“Ah,” Tae withdraws from the closet, his cheeks blooming red. “Well… the public isn’t supposed to know yet. But I’m, er…” He scratches his head sheepishly. “I’m releasing a fashion line. We created a lot of demo outfits to pitch investors. And there’s something I want you to wear.”

You muffle a laugh. “Tae! Really? That’s so cool!” For a moment, your worries are numbed in support of your friend. “Let me see!”

“I don’t know if it’ll fit you, but…” Taehyung pulls out a box printed with KTH in cursive font. “And, for some heat…” he hands you a cropped black fur coat. “Try them on.”

You take a deep breath as you walk into the hall bathroom, nervous to peel off your layers of warmth. You open the box, and- “Woah.”

As you reach to try on the outfit, your phone buzzes.

Wonho: Hey, the commercial aired! Was wondering if u wanted to do smth to celebrate? Hope you’re doing ok. W.

You quickly text back saying you have plans with friends and place your phone facedown on the counter. 

Ten minutes later, you can’t help but stare at yourself in the mirror. You feel… “Y/n?” Taehyung knocks at the door, his voice nervous. “Does it fit?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“Come out, let me see! I want-”

You unlock the door and step into the hall. Taehyung stops mid sentence, his jaw falling slack. “Holy… I don’t care what PD-nim says, you’re wearing this to the club tonight! Guys!” He pulls you into the living room. “Check her out!”

The other five members file in, Jin pulling off an apron. When he catches sight of you, he laughs in surprise. “Our Y/n-ie, all grown up!”

And you look grown up – Taehyung has dressed you in a black leather bodysuit to go perfectly with your black boots. It’s tight, but not suffocating, and most importantly, it’s warm. The long sleeves and legs feel protective. The only skin you’re showing is the adventurously deep neckline. The fur coat goes perfectly with the outfit, and you feel yourself standing up straighter as the guys express their admiration.

“Shut up,” you smile as Hoseok pretends to faint. “It’s Tae’s handiwork.”

“You look gorgeous, Y/n darling,” Jin hums. “Now, if the rest of you could start drooling over the soup instead of Y/n, that would be great.”

~~~

“D, remember how you said these fangirls have like, backup accounts? Shit under a different name?”

“Yeah, why?”

Yoongi chews on his fingernail. It’s a habit his managers always scolded him for when he was still a trainee. “What about Lisa? Does she have any?”

D clicks his tongue. It’s the first time Yoongi’s seen him in person for years, but he couldn’t be at the apartment knowing that Y/n would be there with the others. “Shit, man, maybe. I’ll find out.”

“Thanks.”

“Yo, did you see that commercial with your girl?”

Yoongi rubs his temples. Thinking about Y/n hurts. “No. What?”

“Nah, I’m asking cause she looks fire. She’s all over this guy. What are they even selling, right?” D slides over his laptop, Fierce’s new commercial already pulled up. It shows Yoongi’s old friend Wonho, shirtless, muscles bulging. When it cuts to a new scene, Yoongi nearly chokes. It’s Y/n as he’s never seen her; terrifyingly perfect and irresistibly seductive. He can’t tear his eyes away as she strides past Wonho. In the commercial, Wonho lifts the bottle of cologne and raises his eyebrows at Y/n, who stops with interest. 

The next scene leaves something hot burning in Yoongi’s chest: Y/n sits on Wonho’s lap, pressed against his shirtless chest, and the camera zooms in on her mouth as she leans in to brush her red lips against Wonho’s cheek. Almost unconsciously, Yoongi clenches his fist, nails digging into his palm. It’s just a commercial, just a job. He wonders if guys like Wonho are Y/n’s type. Not like it matters anymore, Yoongi thinks. Fucking Lisa. Fucking Seoyeon. “Fuck!”

D jumps. “Gloss! What was that?”

“I forgot – Seoyeon. I’m late.”

“Who cares, man? She’s insane.”

“I care. She wants to go to a club, maybe she’ll tell me where Lisa is if her guard is down. Or give me the names of anyone else she’s working with.”

“Ooh, sneaky. Okay, I’ll be online all night if you wanna text. Let me know if you find out anything.”

“I will,” Yoongi replies, throwing on his suit jacket. “And D, keep an eye on my location. She’s dangerous. I’ll keep a bodyguard with me, but just in case…”

“I gotchu, man. 

Yoongi takes a deep breath. His driver is waiting outside. Y/n is having dinner with the guys. And the image of her draped over Wonho is seared into his memory.

Back into the fray.

~~~

“I’m surprised we’re not driving in a van or something,” You say, peering around the limousine’s interior in awe.

“Some perks of being celebrities,” Namjoon says with a grin. The guys all look amazing, decked out in dressy but effortless outfits. Back in your ARMY days, you would have been swooning. Even now, their good looks are a welcome distraction. 

“It’s been so long since we’ve gone out,” Jimin bounces excitedly. He’s wearing a purple silk shirt that flutters with the movement. “Since Yoongi-hyung started filming and doing his new mixtape, and with Tae-ssi’s clothing line, our schedule has been lenient.”

“Speaking of schedules…” Jungkook turns to you. “I heard yours is gonna be busier lately! You’ve signed with FYP, right?”

You smile, shoving down your guilt. You need to move on. “Yep, they said they’d email me the contract today.” Now that you think about it, it’s past ten. When are they going to send it to you? You’re sure you haven’t received any work-related emails since coming out of your meeting with Mr. Park.

“Ah, almost there!” Hoseok hands out glasses from a minibar. “Soju bombs, everyone!”

You swallow determinedly. You’re moving past Lisa; Yoongi can’t hurt you anymore; Seoyeon… well, she may have won. But that doesn’t mean I’ve lost.

You’re going clubbing with BTS, wearing an outfit designed by Kim Taehyung. Nothing can go wrong tonight. “Cheers!”

And together with the members, you gulp down your drink as the limo slows to a stop in front of Club Xyon. 

Immediately, you’re ushered by stoic men and women in black suits to the front of a line of people who look more famous than you can ever imagine. “Oh my gosh,” you hiss to Hoseok, “I think I recognize her from that movie! And why are we skipping the line?” 

Hoseok laughs. “Y/n, I know to you we’re just friends, but to everyone else, we are global superstars.”

You swallow. Right. In a place like this… “Should I be seen with you guys?”

“C’mon, we pay good money for security to keep paparazzi away from this place. You’re safe.” 

The seven of you file in: music is blaring, people are dancing, and you’re absolutely starstruck. You’re quickly led to a private room stocked with alcohol. Jimin, Jungkook and Hoseok stay on their feet while Seokjin and Namjoon rush for the liquor. Taehyung sprawls on the luxurious couch.

“We’re gonna go dancing. Y/n, wanna come?” 

You nod, blinking through the sensory overload. So much is going on, so much to think about.

“Wait, wait.” Namjoon pours you a shot. “To Y/n, well and truly on her way to stardom!”

You laugh, accepting the shot. Thank goodness for your friends, thank goodness you didn’t lose them as well as Yoongi. The liquor burns your throat, and you relish in the feeling.

“Come on, Y/n-ie!” Hoseok tugs on your hand. You toss your coat onto the couch next to Taehyung and follow the dancers out, listening to their excited chatter. The dance floor is big, and multicolored lights flash everywhere. You swear you’ve seen the DJ featured in some magazine. Every person in Club Xyon is almost inhumanely beautiful, and you suddenly feel a nervous shiver making its way down your back. Almost as if they can sense it, the three men flank you. 

“Hey, you belong here as much as anyone, okay?” Hoseok whispers. 

You look down at the bodysuit, and think of how much power you felt when you tried it on. “Yeah. Let’s dance.”

Jungkook whoops, and Jimin bounces on his heels. Hoseok merely winks and leads you into the mass of flawless bodies; so many of them have clearly been trained in dance, moving with such fluidity that you do endless double takes.

“Exactly what you need, I think,” Hoseok murmurs into your ear as you begin to move to the music.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you shoot back playfully.

Jimin and Jungkook appear to be having a dance battle. Their fame and the intensity of their movement has created a hubbub among the stars present, and they form a circle around the two. The crowd’s movement jostles you, and you lose track of Hoseok. 

“Hobi! Hob- ah, sorry!” You say quickly, having bumped into someone as you’re pushed to the edge of the dance floor. “My b- wait, Wonho?” 

Wonho grins. “I thought it was you! Funny, I texted earlier because I wanted to invite you here. Who beat me to it?”

“I’m here with BTS,” you reply. Then, seeing Wonho’s confusion, you correct yourself. “Some of the members of BTS. As friends.”

“I see. I’m sorry about Yoongi, I didn’t know he had it in him to act like that.”

You clench your jaw. You don’t know the half of it. “It’s in the past.”

“Well, if you don’t have plans for the next song, want to dance?”

“Sure.” Wonho is cute, and he was kind to you when you worked together. The black mesh shirt he’s wearing certainly helps. 

“Did you see the commercial?” He yells over the heavy bass as you dance. Over his shoulder, you see Taehyung talking to the DJ. 

“No, I’ve been busy,” You shout in reply.

“My agent sent it to me. It turned out well – you looked great!”

Your cheeks flush. Wonho is one of those men who just looks physically perfect, and muscles like his don’t usually come with such a thoughtful demeanor. To receive praise from someone like him gives your ego a boost. “Thanks, I’m sure you did too.”

The song ends, but you still find yourself full of adrenaline. Wonho is an amazing dancer, and you’re finally beginning to relax. 

“I’m gonna get a drink, want anything?” Wonho shouts as another song comes on. With their popularity, you’re surprised you haven’t heard any BTS songs yet.

“I’ll come with you.” You do want something to drink, but you know better than to let someone you barely know bring you something. Wonho nods and leads you to the sleek bar, staffed by skilled mixologists – they add bottle tricks to every order.

“Whiskey, please,” Wonho says when a mixologist turns to him. “And whatever she wants.”

You raise a brow. “You don’t have to pay.”

“C’mon, let me be nice!” 

You laugh. “Fine. A raspberry cosmopolitan.” You keep your eye on the mixologist as they make your drink. “Thanks, Wonho.”

“Hey, I’m just glad I got to run into you. You were definitely one of the more human actresses I’ve worked with.”

“How so?”

Wonho shrugs. “You guys pretend to be other people for a living. It’s nice to meet someone who feels so genuine.”

You nearly choke on the drink the mixologist has just handed to you. “Oh my god,” you say, shaking with laughter. “That’s… thanks, man.”

“What’s so funny?”

“Nah, just – first time in a while I’ve been called genuine.” It’s a nice change.

“I can’t believe that. You seem really cool, Y/n–?” You’re taking a long draw of your drink, so all you hear is his voice suddenly changing your name into a question. When you lower your glass, you see him staring in surprise behind you. “What are you doing here?”

“The same thing as you, Lee.” His voice is hard and cool, so uncharacteristic that it takes you a sentence to register. When you do, you swing around, almost unconsciously backing closer to Wonho. “Y-Yoongi?”

“Oh my gosh, look who it is!” Your blood suddenly turns to ice and you grip Wonho’s sleeve like a lifeline. No. No. No.

“Y/n, sweetie!” Kang Seoyeon says, blood-red lipstick matching her hair. Her hand rests lightly on Yoongi’s shoulder. “It’s been so long!”

[labec99]

Hi how’s your week going (warning for incoming rant)

I was flying so fucking high from last weekend and the Harry shows, and goddamn did it crash hard.

So the job I was supposed to start next week got pushed to June, and tbh I have a feeling it will get canceled completely by then

Which means I am still stuck at the job that has been draining the life out of me all year and giving me stress that is starting to manifest in physical ways in my body

And a former colleague had asked if I wanted to staff at a new company that just relaunched but I turned him down because I thought I had a new gig lined up, and now they’re already staffed and don’t have a spot for me

So I was struggling to do a bunch of the things that I had thought got offloaded to my boss to fulfill since I was leaving, but he didn’t do any of it, so I had to staff a bunch of shows really quick, and so many contractors are booked out through the end of the year already

I had to email or text like 6 different Technical Directors, and finally got one who said he was free the 3 dates I needed him

Except then at like 7 PM the night before Thanksgiving he called to tell me his scheduled shifted for another gig and he may not be available one of the dates after all, so then I got to carry that stress through the holiday

AND THEN THE CHERRY ON TOP OF THE FUCKING CAKE

My phone got stolen while I was at a bar with my friends last night

(Which is almost impressive because my phone is basically surgically attached to my hand, but I’m too emotionally distraught after this fucking week to actually be impressed) Like literally, there was 5 minutes or less from when I was posting a video on Instagram stories on the dance floor to realizing my phone was no longer in my pocket at the bar, and it wasn’t on the floor anywhere or turned into any of the barkeepers and I even went back today to check their lost and found and no one had it, so someone literally stole it out of my pocket

And I was super annoyed, but I was there with friends and also my sister so like, I got home fine and figured I’d go through the rigmarole of getting a new phone and just restore it from my icloud backup or a backup on my computer

Because I was 95% positive that I had backed my phone up to my new computer that I use for work at some point this year because I specifically downloaded iTunes onto a pc laptop, even though I really only use Spotify these days, so there’s no need for me to have it on here unless I had my phone plugged in, and I was pretty sure I remembered thinking I should back it up onto this new computer while I had it plugged in

Except when I tried to restore from an iCloud backup, it only had my iPad backups, not my iphone, and I haven’t used my iPad  regularly since college because it’s like 8 years old at this point and doesn’t run current iOS’s

But like, at the very least it has my apple account data and my contacts and my messages so I didn’t lose that

So I plug my phone into my current computer and it tells me there’s no backup to restore it from

Shit

Well

Let me break out my old macbook that is now 10 years old or more and I stopped using at the beginning of the pandemic because the thought of running zoom and any other application at the same time on 4 gb of RAM was laughable so I finally bit the bullet and updated to a pc laptop so I could game on it as well for work, but hey, at least I know for absolute certain that there are multiple phone back ups on there and I probably backed it up sometime during the pandemic because I was bored, right?

Oh you sweet summer child

The last backup was in 2019, I will have lost 2+ years worth of pictures and videos, but ya know, whatever it’s something at this point and i’ve already spiraled so much in the last 24 hours (not even 24 hours. as of me venting this out my phone got stolen less than 20 hours ago) (which in and of itself I realize is a privilege to be able to replace something like that so fast, I’ve just had so many small shitty experiences compounding this week that now everything feels like a boulder thrown on top)

So I tried to restore from that backup, but for some reason my old macbook won’t recognize the new iphone and restore from there

wtf

I’m tired, emotionally exhausted, whatever

Let me restore from my ipad backup, at least I’ll have my data and account info and messages and calendar and contacts, because that’s all on this ipad and up to date including an appointment on a calendar I made on my phone 2 days ago, so I know it synced since then

Load the restore and it says Some apps may not be compatible

I realize that only ipad apps are on there and I’m going to have to redownload every app from scratch

ugh, whatever

finally load the restore

None of my contacts are there

None of my messages before 4 PM are there

some random lady’s photos are loaded into my photo app. I have never seen this woman before. idk if it’s the person who stole the phone and somehow in the course of her trying to make it hers she added her shit into mine, or if some random data in the cloud got jumbled up, but I have 275 photos of someone that isn’t me.

I finally accepted that life sucks this week and called my mom and cried on the phone for half an hour

Oh and also

I managed to get a parking ticket while I was waiting in the Verizon store for the order to be processed, because when I went to refeed my meter because I knew it was running low, there was a ticket that had been printed 5 whole minute prior, because LA Parking cops are just utter shit stains with nothing better to do with their lives

And my dude and I aren’t seeing each other any more and it fizzled out in a way that left me with a huge lack of closure. Like, I’ve gotten soft ghosted more times than I care to admit, it’s the go to way for all of my attempts at relationships to end, because I will keep texting and trying to talk to these men and they will slowly but surely just stop answering

But like, we were dating for nearly a year. And then we didn’t see each other for a while because our schedules got a little hectic, but then also the text messages started fizzling out to and I kept trying to find things for us to do like go to the movies or something and he kept being busy

I Never get to the point in an attempt at a relationship where I give up on it. I am always the last person giving effort. But once it hits that point, where I can tell the energy has shifted and the answers become less frequent where I realize that I can’t be the only person trying and if they are done putting in effort then why am I still trying to make something happen here?

And I’m mad that that’s how this went too.

Grow a pair and dump me, you coward.

So to recap, Lost the job I was looking forward to, the relationship I was in fell apart, my phone was stolen, I lost all of my digital phone content from the last decade (which feels like losing a piece of me, because I am an introvert so the digital world is where I feel home the most), and I got a parking ticket.

Sigh.

Ok. Now that that is vented out.

Gonna take my assemblage of digital devices to the apple genius bar tomorrow and see what they can frankenstein merge together out of these backups that do exist. I still have my work computer and everything I need to do stuff for my current job and I can explain stuff to my boss on Monday and hopefully get him to give me a hand on some stuff to get these December shows up and running.

I have a ton of photos and videos on social media of the last few years, so my memories are still there somewhere. I have my health (for the most part), I still have a job and income and a roof over my head, I have my parents who were both willing to help me pay to replace the phone right away, I have scores of lovely and amazing friends in my life. Most of the digital information I need is backed up in other places so I just need to reaggregate it all into my phone. 

I’m just hella bad with change, so if you throw a bunch of shit changing in a small time frame at me at once, I crumble a bit. 

[50-percent-winchester-sister]

Never Do That Again

Request From: @fancat-not-fangirl

Request:  Can you write something where the sister reader gets hurt on a case bc she was protecting either Sam or Dean (like she pushed them out of the way or jumped in front of them or whatnot) and then they're super super worried and protective and frantic over her and they're also guilty for letting her come along on the case

Prompt: After begging and begging for the boys to let you in on the hunt, they eventually give in, only for you to get hurt during

Dean: 29

Sam: 25

Y/N: 18

Word Count: 3,268

MY FIRST REQUEST!! Ahh I feel like a true fanfic writer now!!! I hope you enjoy this fanfic!!

  "Dean, come on! At this point I'm begging!" You say flinging your arms up. You've been trying days (which felt like years) and Dean wont budge. You constantly asked Sam, and at which point, you bugged him so much he just gave you a "I don't care as long as Dean lets you," And after that, you had your mind set on bugging the hell out of Dean.

  You knew the hunt was harder than the simple salt n' burns that they let you come along with, this hunt required backup, which you 100% will be the backup for.

  "No Y/N, my answer will always be no, so there's no point in asking," Dean said to you in an irritated tone. 'day three of asking and hes already annoyed?' You thought to yourself. "But Dean, you know that if this turns sideways, you two will get hurt, it'll be easier on everyone if there was three people working this, I can help!" You reply, you know your right and nothing Dean will say will make you any less wrong.

  "Yeah, but that doesn't mean I'm not just going to let you." "Dean-" "Y/N, no"

  Just then Sam walks in and notices you and Dean barking at each other. You turn around and walk towards Sam and quickly clung onto his arm. "Sam said I can!" And just then, Sams entire soul left his body and .2 seconds later he defends himself so hard your head spins.

  "What? Y/N I never said that. I said that you can as long as Dean lets you." "Dean PLEASE, What if you guys get hurt, and I'm not there to help you guys? I get that something can happen but with the three of us, it'll be less likely!"

  "Dean shes got a point," Sam says looking a little defeated, "Shes been asking for days, if you keep saying no, there's going to be backlash"

  Dean wipes his hand over his face, looking increasingly irritated. "I swear if you get hurt, if I see blood on you and its yours, you're never hunting again, got it?" Dean asks you. "So I'm coming?"

  Dean looks over at Sam, who just shrugged at him, and he looks back at you, "Go pack up, we leave in an hour," Dean sighs. "Oh my god, yes! I swear you wont regret taking me" You respond, running to your room, "I better not," Dean yells back

____________________________________________

  An hour seems like 10 minutes to you, you hunted plenty of times with them, and sneakily by yourself, but none of the hunts were ever this intense. You go outside to see Sam and Dean waiting for you in the Impala.You get inside and apologize for taking so long, and Sam saying that it was alright and no harm was done.

  You, Sam and Dean roll up to the motel since it is already after dark and you're guessing Deans on high alert since you came along. You knew that Dean was going to be harder on you, but that just means you gotta show him how strong you are, even if you get hurt, you gotta suck it up and fight hard, make sure you get that smile that you love to get from him and Sam.

  Once you guys settle in and get ready for bed, you see Dean at the table on Sams laptop, you didn't mean to stare, it just sort of happened.

  You were thinking about every possible outcome, and you knew Dean was thinking the same thing. 'Will I get hurt? Will Sam and Dean get hurt!?'

  Sam looked over at you and noticed that you were staring and Dean for a minute that seemed like forever to him, and he smiled at himself.

____________________________________________

  You were the first one up, even before Sam, and he usually is up at 6:00am. it doesn't take long for Sam to wake up, "Why are you up so early?" he asks you. "Take a wild guess" you respond with a shit eating grin,. "Wake Dean up, I'm going to get breakfast," Sam says taking the car keys out of Dean jacket.

  Sam leaves and you look over at Dean and stare again, you shake your head lightly, 'no stop thinking that.' You walk over to him lightly smack his arm a couple times, "Dean wake up, Sams getting food, come on"

  Dean wakes up and looks over at you with the most softest eyes, "What?" you ask. "What time is it?" he asks in a deep, tired voice. "I don't know hold on" You reply, you walk over to the bed stand where your phone is, "Almost 7:30."

  "Did Sam wake you up?" He asks. "Nah I woke up myself" you say as you throw your phone on the bed, "You okay?" you ask him. You know hes gonna say I'm fine you know it for a fac-

  "I'm fine, are 'you' okay?" He asks

  'Knew it'

  "Oh yeah I'm good." You look over at Dean again and hes still in bed, but sitting up and looking at you. "Anyways what did you find out on Sams laptop last night?" "Three deaths this week, one two nights ago, and all three of them had hole marks behind their left ears and their brains are practically sucked out, I'm guessing its a-" "Wraith?" You cut him off.

  He looks over at you for a couple/few seconds before talking again. "Yeah, how'd you figure that out?" "Dean, I know how to research, not my first rodeo" you giggle after what you said.

  Ten minutes later Sam shows up with breakfast and you three eat while talking about what is about to happen.

  The hunt was going to last all day, the boys go all FBI, and you stay back and research and look around the crime scene. It was complete bullshit, you knew Dean was being protective but come on, you have a fake ID, might as well use it, but no, you knew he would make you stay behind.

  You are wearing your FBI suit just in case you were needed by the boys, you three are at the place where the last murder was, you three are speaking to the mother of the daughter who got killed by the wraith.

  "So Mrs.Luke, would there be any reason this happened, did she have any enemies that might have done this to her?" Sam asks. The way her mom looked at him didn't settle well with you. "No I don't think so, he was so well liked by everyone, she was perfect."

  "Ma'am, I noticed she tried to leave the house before she died, do you know where she was going to go at one in the morning?" you ask Mrs. Luke.

  "Well I- What does that have to do with anything?" She responds, clearly shes quite nervous. "Just answer the question ma'am," Dean quickly adds on.

  "Well I was thinking she was going to sneak over to a friends house or something, but now we'll never know..."

  'What is she hiding?' you ask yourself, 'Does she have something to do with all this?'

____________________________________________

  In the car you three are on the way to the park where the first murder happened. You thought to yourself that there was no way that a wraith can just kill someone out in the open, so it had to be at night where no one was in the park except them and their victim.

  You tell them your observation and with a long sigh you add, "Tonight at around two or three am, I'll come out here and just wait around for the wraith to come by"

  "Uh, no, hell no that ain't happening" Dean says like hes utterly offended that you'd even think about being bait. "But Dean-" "He's right Y/N, No way you are going to go out there alone, we'll figure something out," Sam says. Sam agreeing with Dean can be the most frustrating thing in the world and vise versa.

  "Guys think about it. First murder: 17 year old with long brown hair, Second murder: 20 year old with long brown hair, Third murder: 19 year old with long brown hair, The Fourth is exactly my description, 18 year old with long brown hair, that's me!"

  "Y/N, we said no" Sam and Dean say in unison. Dammit they piss you off so much sometimes.

____________________________________________

  Nightfall comes around and you three are in the motel, you. You had a plan set in your mind. 'Once they fully fall asleep I'll go out there and kill it myself, that way when they wake up, it'll already be dead before they wake up, perfect!' you think to yourself.

  It takes them a couple of hours to go to sleep since they decided to research for a little while, and that kinda of messed up your plan a little, but STILL!!! you already make up your mind and you're going no matter what

  They're finally asleep and thankfully you're quiet and your stealth is at max (thanks to training), and you quietly and quickly leave the motel room with the room key and the Impala's keys since you're the only one leaving.

  You drive to the park where the first murder happened. You hide your knife in your waistband and get out of the car. You then walk and stand in the middle of the park waiting for the wraith. 'Damn it's cold out' you think to yourself, "I should have brought a jacket.' After your statement you breath in and out and what came out was a frozen type of breath and it startled you to say the least. "Wait what the hell? A wraith doesn't have this type of ability"

  "No, honey they don't"

____________________________________________

Meanwhile back at the motel:

  "Dammit Dean, Y/N's gone" Sam says fast walking towards Dean. "Yeah she took the damn car too. You know Sam, Y/N's most likely in the damn park we were art earlier today, lets go" "With what car? Think before everything else Dean," Sam says. Sams right, you cant go into battle without some type of plan.

  "Sam, were the masters of stealing, we'll just take a car from the parking lot," Dean says as he shrugs.

  Sam and Dean roll up to the park and they see you talking to someone they don't know. "Son of a bitch, really? Come on Sammy"

____________________________________________

  "What the hell are you and mostly-" You cut yourself off to show her your blade, "Why the hell are you killing innocent people?" That....thing, begins to laugh, but you don't show any emotion but anger.

  "Honey, I cant be killed by a flimsy knife that 'that', and-" She gets shot. You turn around to see who shot her and you see one pissed off brother and one worry-full brother, (guess who). "and I cant be killed by gunshots either, sorry boys and girls."

  "Well you're one show tune son of a bitch aren't you?" Dean asks. You look at Dean, then at Sam and you see Sam mouthing you to pull back and stand behind them, and knowing you're already grounded for life, you defeated agree.

  "Three against one bitch, you're out numbered" Dean says pulling out his large KA1214. 'That's new,' you think to yourself and out of fight or flight response, you pull your knife out too.

  Sam whispers quiet enough so the thing won't hear him, but loud enough so you can. "Y/N, What the hell is that?" and you respond with "That's a vampire, but i assume its being controlled by a type of ghost"

  "Okay so everyone got their weapons? Fun, let me get mine out too and we can have some fun, huh?" The vampire says as she shows her teeth and pulls out a....'is that a Beretta M9? How uncommon' you think to yourself.

  "Bringing a gun to a knife fight? Really?" Sam asks "Why yes, as you see its a 90-10 ratio, I win and you three...well, at least you three will go down fighting, the one and only Cynthia Harness. lets play shall we? Here, I'll go first." Cynthia tries to shoot Dean but he ducks and runs fast towards her, he swings his knife., but she ducks and runs towards the other direction. Sam runs to catch up with her and you look back at Dean and silently say I'm sorry, and you run towards Sam and Cynthia.

  "Dammit Y/N, come back here!" Dean yells at you, but you don't comply. Deans staying back just in case there were any more and now its just you, Sam and Cynthia out in probably the middle of the woods behind the park.

  You hear two gunshots in front of you. 'Oh god, Sam' you think to yourself, 'what if he's already dead?' "SAAAAAM" You yell, as you're are running faster than you were before.

  Finally, you see Cynthia and 'oh thank god,' you see Sam, and he looks like hes okay! "Oh Its you again, hi!" Cynthia says with a big smile waving at you like shes your best friend. "Get the hell away from him" the venom in your voice is clearly visible. "Hmm? Oh him? No dear, you just stand there while I-" She cuts herself off and positions her gun to point at Sam's chest, "Just kill him in front of you, how does that sound?" Cynthia asks while laughing like its a damn game and shes destined to be the winner.

  "NO," you scream, you run toward sam and .1 milliseconds after she shoots you push sam and the bullet collides with your left leg. You give out a piercing scream as you fall to the floor and Dean comes from behind and chops off Cynthia's head and its rolls on the ground.

  "Y/N! Come on, Dean, let's take her to the car" Sam says has he manages to pick you up and you hold your arm over their shoulders, and you hop on one leg to the car. It was silent, but not as silent as it is in the car, It was deadly silent, A type of silent that was mentally and (for you) physically painful.

  "......Dean?" "Not a word until we get to the motel got it?" Dean says with a thick and dark voice. "Dean-" "I don't want to hear anything from you either Sam, no one talks until we got to the motel, okay? okay good" Dean says with the most pissed off look you've ever received from him.

  And so the long and crucifying 30 minute drive to the motel was silent added with you wincing, groaning and crying from the pain that bitch Cynthia gave you. Every now and then you look at Dean from the rear view mirror and vise versa with Sam, and Dean doesn't look back, he just looks at the road, but Sam looks back at you and sadly smiles and mouths, 'everything's going to be okay, just hold on, okay?' but you don't smile back.

____________________________________________

Meanwhile at the hotel:

  Sam and Dean help you out of the car and into the motel room. "You, sit and Sam, get the damn first aid kit, a wet towel, peroxide, and get me a beer," Dean says to you can Sam. You sit on the foot of your bed and once Dean got his beer and whatever else he needed, he sat next to you and Sam pulled up a chair and sat in front of you.

  "Leg," Dean says, and you pull your leg up on his lap (with the help of Sam of course), and he starts working on cleaning the blood, and stopping it from bleeding even more, and Sam gets ready to pull the bullet out and stitch your leg up.

  You only trust Sam right now to do the 'dangerous' tasks since Deans still very VERY mad at you, and you're a little afraid he'll kill you himself from sheer anger.

  "Y/N-" This time you cut Dean off. "Dean I know, I was being reckless back there, and I could have gotten myself killed, but-" "No Y/N, no buts about it, I knew we shouldn't have brung her, I knew this would happen, and its happened anyway"

  "Dean, I've almost gotten shot if it weren't for her," Sam adds. "Oh so what, you're on 'her' side? "Of course not Dean, I'm on no ones side, I'm just saying, give her a break, get angry after theirs a bullet out of her leg, alright?"

  Thankfully he agreed, and soon enough the bullet was out and you had stitches in your leg. Dean left a couple of hours ago doing god knows what, but Sam stayed with you and you two laid down and talked for a while

  "Don't let Dean get to you, believe it for not, he was just as worried as I was, we still are," Sam says, "Oh and for what its worth, thanks for getting in the way, getting shot in the chest is never a good way to go out." You and Sam both laugh at what he says.

  You begin to push yourself up and a shooting pain starts in your leg, and you hiss at the pain. "Fuck," that all that you can handle saying at the moment.

____________________________________________

  None of you guys slept that whole night. Dean came back a few hours later after Sam thanked you for jumping in front of him. It has to be about eight or nine am before Sam says out loud, "Alright, I'm getting breakfast, you two don't wait up," and leaves the room.

  Now, its just you and Dean. You on your bed, and him on his. You look at him again, and then you look at your hands again. You squeak out an "I'm sorry" to Dean and Dean looks at you.

   'I know you are," Dean says to you. He doesn't look as mad at you as he was earlier, but hes still on the defensive side.

  "I only did it so Sam wont get hurt..." You say looking at your hands for what it feels like the millionth time. "I know, and I'm proud, but you got hurt in the end Y/N," Dean says with worry in his eyes.

  "I know...It hurts like a bitch I'll tell you that," you say as you try to lift the mood. "You could have died Y/N, you cant-" He cuts himself off. "you cant do that to me, to Sam," his voice breaks a little. "Y/N, never do that again okay?"

  "....Dean I cant promise that. I was held at gun point you would jump in front of me to save me." You say with a quiet and small voice.

  "That's just it Y/N, never do what we do unless we tell you to, I swear you got your recklessness from me" You feel your shoulders relax after seeing a smirk from Dean. "I learned from the best" You tell Dean and he does a small laugh.

  Sam comes back a little while later and you three eat your breakfast and talk about from completely nothing to what other hunt you guys are thinking of doing. Of course you wont be able to hunt for a while since you can barely stand, but you can research like a son of a bitch, and hey, sometimes its nice to be backup, especially for the two boys that frustrate the hell out of you.

[fandom-necromancer]

1438 + 1414. “Would you just hold still?” “Oh my god, please don’t tell them.”

Now to the second story prompted by the lovely anon! I like this one better. Enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 (Warnings: gun violence, android getting shot, android being repaired while temporary paralysed)

[part2]   [part3]

Nines couldn’t keep his LED from spinning red for a full circle, watching Detective Reed picking the lock in front of them. He had deliberately taken the position furthest away from the man, right behind Detective Collins and next to Miller. He didn’t like him, he would even go that far to say he hated him. It was evident Reed was anti-android to the bone. Nines knew from Connor that he had repeatedly hit him, pulled guns on him several times, never had shown even an ounce of compassion for an android, even as they had been slaughtered in the revolution and even now, he was still openly hostile. Nines hated the way he called him names and it was even worse with other androids in the precinct. Even with their rights granted by the humans, they had to stand together, so this was only another reason to detest the man.

He hadn’t liked taking Reed with him on a mission, but they needed backup on this, and the human was surprisingly competent. What he demonstrated yet again, clicking the lock open and holding the door for them to advance. Without a word, Nines hurried past him, mind already back on the task at hand: Finding and capturing their suspect. It was a thirty-two-year-old male who lost his job and took to offering services of the illegal kind: mostly robberies in the beginning, but soon his crimes escalated. They had him caught once already, but he had managed to escape by shooting the police officers who had been arresting him. Since then Nines was searching for him. And today he would make sure, the human wouldn’t get away a second time.

Nines advanced deeper into the building the man had chosen as a hideout and kept scanning his surroundings for any sign of his presence. But they could inspect the whole building without interruption. Apparently, the man wasn’t home. The group ended up in a room that looked like his base of operation: Weapons were lying around, none of them registered or owned by their suspect. They were joined by a Laptop without internet access that Nines interfaced with. His data wasn’t well protected, likely because he had never expected someone to get their hand on his computer, so it was easy for Nines to find even more of his illegal activities. He was already in the process of securing it all in a package to send to the DPD as evidence, when he hear the door open and a hissed: ‘Oh shit.’ Immediately he had his gun out and aimed, shouting: ‘DPD, don’t move!’ But the man wasn’t about to listen to him. He had his own weapon out, a machine pistol that he shot two times at Nines as the most aggressive opponent, and darted. Miller and Collins were immediately following the fleeing suspect, while Nines held onto the table with the laptop not to fall. He failed, dropping to the floor. It was a wonder he hadn’t tipped over the table in the process. The android was too occupied finding the wound through the steady stream of blue blood and noticed too late how the remaining Detective knelt down in front of him. Nines tried to scoot away from him, suddenly afraid this was what the man had been waiting for. He was in an ideal position to kill him and blame it on the wound later.

But there were strong hands at his sides, pulling him back. Nines resisted the hold and struggled against the grip only for it to get eve harder, Gavin using his body weight to press him down. ‘Phcking tin-can… Would you just hold still?’ ‘So you can kill me?’, Nines pressed against the static. ‘Never!’ Reed sighed, getting a hold of the android’s arms and pinning them against the table with one hand. The other found a knife laying around and Nines knew, this was how it would end. He awaited the long blade to be pierced in between his hull and his thirium regulator, but to his surprise, it only faintly touched him as it was pulled through the fabric of his shirt. Too perplexed to notice, the human had already pushed in the right places only a Cyberlife engineer would know and his chest opened. Again, the mortified thought arose that maybe Reed was someone who had fun in dragging it out? He had all the time in the world after all, with Miller and Collins gone until they got their suspect safely in a car. He bucked his hips again and tried to pull his arms away to get away and run from this lunatic, or at least close his chest cavity again, but it was no use. With low thirium levels his movements were sluggish already and whatever Gavin had done to him counted as a manual override.

There was another sigh, before one of his hands disappeared in his chest and dug around for a specific cable. Nines eyes went wide, and he tried his best to get this human away from him, but Gavin simply ducked under his arms he had let go to have two hands to operate and pulled. Nines immediately went slack and watched in terror how Gavin wiped away his sweat and smeared thirium all over his forehead. ‘maybe now you’ll finally let me help you, jeez’, he mumbled, quickly getting to work. Nines watched how he cut into his shirt again, ending up with a long, thirium soaked stripe of cloth he wrapped around a thirium pipe and fastened with just enough force to seal it but not break it even further. Immediately Nines’ thirium levels stabilised with a minimal leakage. But Gavin wasn’t finished yet, rummaging in his chest, opening valves for backup-pipes and adjusting the power of his pump until he had successfully bypassed the damaged part completely. As a last action, Gavin pulled out the damaged tube and set it down next to him. All of that he had managed in under an hour. Nines would have been impressed, had he not been this surprised.

Gavin sat back, still straddling the android and breathed, before frowning at him. Only then he remembered the pulled wire and was quick to reconnect it, closing the compartment afterwards. But still Nines just sat up a bit, staring at him, not moving otherwise. ‘What?’, Gavin spat. ‘You didn’t kill me.’ Nines made no effort to hide how surprised he was. ‘I didn’t- What?’ Gavin looked at him as if he just told him the world was flat. ‘You had the chance to get rid of me.’ ‘Why the hell would I do that?’ ‘You hate androids.’

Gavin leant back, rubbing his eyes in defeat. ‘Toaster. I hate Connor. I hate Cyberlife. I don’t hate androids and I don’t hate you. And even if I did, killing one? Excuse me, how much of an asshole did you think I am? Okay, don’t answer that, I think I got the message. Phcking ungrateful piece of shit.’

Finally, the human got up from the android, kicked the broken pipe away and stomped out of the room. Only a few minutes later Miller and Collins came back, completely out of breath. ‘Shit Nines!’, Chris cursed, dropping next to him. ‘Sorry we couldn’t come any faster, we finally caught the bastard and had to wait for Tina to come and pick him up. God, if I had known…’ ‘Where’s Gavin the asshole?’, Collins asked, looking around deliberately trying not to look at the puddle of blue blood underneath Nines. ‘Running off without even trying to help, that’s so him. We’re so sorry, are you alright? Do you need help?’ Nines shook his head, but Chris helped him up anyways. They both hovered around him on their way outside, where they met Gavin, smoking a cigarette. Nines wordlessly walked towards the waiting police car, while Chris and Collins stayed behind to yell at the Detective. ‘What do you think you are doing?’ ‘Nines was in there bleeding out and you go for a smoke?’ ‘What the fuck is wrong with you, seriously?’ ‘I’ll tell Fowler, don’t you think you can get away with this.’

Unimpressed, Gavin pushed himself off the wall and threw the cigarette to the ground pushing it out with his boot. ‘Go phck yourselves, guys’, he groaned, walking past them, Nines and the car down the street. ‘What are you doing?’, the android shouted at him, what the Detective answered by showing him his middle finger and shouting back: ‘Gonna call a taxi back.’

As soon as the man entered the precinct later, Nines was on his way to pull him to the side. Not only because Fowler was on the lookout for him, but also because he wanted to talk to him. ‘What is it now, tin-can?’, he asked, clearly tired of talking. ‘How did you know how to bypass a thirium system component correctly?’ ‘I’m Elijah Kamski’s brother’, Gavin stated as if that was the most normal thing in the world. ‘If you live with him for a while you pick up a few things.’ He suddenly froze. ‘Oh my god, please don’t tell them! Although… I guess they wouldn’t believe you anyways.’ Nines shook his head. ‘I guess not, I hardly believe you. Why even save me? You hate us.’ ‘Because you are alive, dipshit!’, Gavin shouted then, annoyed that they even needed to have this conversation. ‘Because you are a living person, damnit, a colleague. Because… God, you don’t have to find reasons for saving someone’s life, you just do it. Is that so difficult to understand?’ He groaned. ‘Listen, I’m no different than Miller or Anderson or anyone in this precinct deep down. I am just a human, just a person that wants to do good. If everyone decides I’m the bad guy so be it. But I don’t have to explain myself when I already know no one’s listening. So, go back to your good people and do your job. I did mine.’

He shoved Nines in the chest and walked away, straight into Fowlers arms and likely another suspension. It made the android think about what he had thought about the human and how wrong he had been to blindly follow Connor’s evaluation. This wasn’t fair. This wasn’t right. In a fit of spite he knew he might regret later, he sat down at the empty desk opposite to Gavin’s, waiting patiently for his return. He enjoyed the frowning faces of those passing him by, but none of them as much as Gavin’s completely dumbfounded expression. ‘Alright, what is that supposed to be?’ ‘I listened to you’, Nines simply said, before standing up. ‘Come tomorrow Fowler will have revoked your suspension and you will become my partner.’ ‘What?’ ‘There’s nothing you can do about it.’

[>next part]

[anexplanationofunfortunateevents]

BUT HIS [SON’S] [IRRELEVANT AND PROBABLY FAKE] EMAILS!

In a world where people were trying to do their jobs, this story would not make sense to anyone, now or ever. But because we live in the dumbest fucking timeline, you need to know the shape of the Trump cartel’s latest disinformation campaign against the American democratic process.

Former Vice President Biden is being attacked through his family, which means that his family’s story is the vital context here. Back in the ‘70s, when he was Senator-Elect Biden, his family was in a terrible car crash. His first wife and their young daughter were killed. His sons Beau and Hunter survived, though Hunter suffered a traumatic head injury. The boys went about 80% Parent Trap to convince their dad to marry his current wife Jill, and both grew up and went to law school. Beau became the attorney general of Delaware before dying of cancer in 2015. Hunter went on to a lucrative career in the private sector despite an intermittent struggle with substance abuse, which is a common aftereffect of psychological trauma and brain injuries.

Republicans generally believe that being a Yale Law grad with a wealthy father and a history of substance abuse qualifies someone for the Supreme Court, but for some deeply principled and intellectually honest reason, they have decided that Hunter Biden’s employment in the field of transportation and energy can only be a sign of spectacular corruption. So nefarious and sinister was the Biden family’s treachery that they managed to destroy every iota of evidence before multiple investigations by Senate Republicans could find any of it!

Obviously this little tabloid narrative was derailed when Trump went and got his dumb ass impeached over it. But it’s the middle of October, Trump’s down ten points in the polls, and he made the mistake of replacing the wildly unethical FBI director who threw the last election for him with a guy who at least knows to act professional, so he’s looking for a Hail Mary pass. In the wackiest of coincidences, some random Trumper had what he says might be Hunter Biden’s various hard drives, one of which apparently contained a backup of his most sensitive videos and text messages, in his computer repair shop. Of course this man did the only sensible thing and, uh, copied every file in the drives one at a time before bringing it to Trump’s TV lawyer, Rudy Giuliani, and then the FBI. Giuliani, who was a former federal prosecutor before becoming the former mayor of New York City and current new bestie of Random Tech Store Guy, handled this situation with the assistance of someone who has a mere “50/50 chance” of being a Russian agent. (Poor old Rudy does appear to have limited communication skills beyond his personal safe space of a noun, a verb, and 9/11.) It’s unclear to me whether Giuliani or Tech Store Guy was the one who shared the hard drives with Steve Bannon, the white supremacist propagandist and former Trump campaign manager who is currently under indictment for fraud.

As with a lot of Trump trash, it’s impossible to describe without sounding like you’re exaggerating for comedic effect, but the stakes are too high for any of it to be funny. 

Over the weekend, a right wing tabloid published what it said were emails from one of Hunter’s laptops. (Reporters at that particular tabloid do not believe the story.) The emails don’t show any wrongdoing by the vice president and seem fake for a lot of reasons – but never mind, the bullshit laundering worked well enough to get some supposed actual reporter to harass Vice President Biden about it, and then a bunch of other supposed actual reporters to collapse into their fainting couches when Biden responded with appropriate impatience.

That apparently didn’t have the hoped-for effect. The next day, what appeared to be a series of highly emotional text exchanges between the vice president and his son appeared. There was nothing even vaguely scandalous in these, to a point where it’s not immediately obvious why anyone would bother publishing them. My best guess is that it’s meant to throw Biden off his stride by trying to hurt and humiliate his son, though it may also be an attempt to soften the ground for an even more theatrical reveal.

A lot of Very Serious Politics-Knowers have deluded themselves that the But Her Emails debacle of 2016 was the legitimate kernel of a story that was “blown out of proportion.” But Her Emails was about people a) having some degree of misogyny, conscious or unconscious, which led to a bias against Clinton and b) wanting to tell other people and/or themselves that it wasn’t because she was a woman. They understand that the But Her Emails-ing was a) enormously consequential and b) incredibly dumb. They don’t want to think too hard about that tension, because if they did, they’d have to take responsibility for how the dumb thing became so consequential.

Meanwhile, Trump campaign insiders know better than the rest of us how much they cheated in 2016, but they’re still people and therefore susceptible to the cognitive bias that they got what they wanted because they earned it somehow. The closest thing they had to an above-board strategy was yelling “emails!!” a lot, so they expect yelling “emails!!” to be successful again. They’re just desperately throwing pasta to see what sticks – but Joe Biden is a man, so they’re throwing it at the theory of relativity instead of the refrigerator door.

There are differences between 2020 and 2016 which are significantly less depressing. Trump’s co-conspirators are resorting to ridiculous methods because so many of the key players who made the 2016 operation work are actually facing punishment for some of their crimes. Paul Manafort is under house arrest. Wikileaks guy Julian Assange is in jail.  Social media companies, especially Twitter, were prepared to slam the brakes. Some mainstream reporters have refused to learn their lesson from 2016, but others were prepared to be critical. And, I cannot emphasize this last one enough, voters are more prepared for it. So Team Trump isn’t as good at doing the crimes as they were four years ago, even if they were as good at it they wouldn’t be able to use traditional and social media as effectively as they did last time, and even if they could adjust to that they’d have a harder time manipulating us. Maybe it got frustrating and boring for you to hear and talk about the 2016 attack for years on end, but the whole point of that was that we needed to be ready for exactly this scenario. So far, it seems to be working better than I would have hoped.

Obviously, this is infuriating. All else aside, putting this enormous, invasive pressure on a private citizen’s mental health and substance abuse problems is abusive and gross and genuinely dangerous. I don’t give a shit who his dad is, it’s fucking evil. We need to be ready to remember everybody involved in pushing this story – not just the con artists behind it, but the “mainstream” reporters who validated it in their behavior toward the Biden campaign or who spread what were (allegedly) entirely personal text messages of no news value.

But first, we need to win next month. On that front, I want to reiterate what I said when they first started cooking up this story late last year: it’s actually encouraging that they’re resorting to something like this, because it means they’re flailing. They haven’t been able to make FBI Director Wray abuse his power in the way former Director Comey did, despite the fact that the only real tool they had to manipulate Comey four years ago was taunting and pressure from conservative media. They don’t have a cutout like Wikileaks to launder the documents for them. Most importantly, they’re trying to influence voters’ opinions of Biden because they think voters’ behavior still matters. The only thing Trump knows in life is how to get away with a scam. If they thought they had it “rigged” they would be trying to act normal, because spending the three weeks before a heist reminding your marks of what fucking criminals you are doesn’t help you get away with it.

One last thing: this is a less obvious reason why it’s important to vote as early as you can. All these other increasingly desperate stunts depend on the ability to overwhelm everyone all at once, without enough time for them to be debunked or brought back into proportion. The more early votes are in the bank, the less effective their next stink bomb can be, and if it can’t be effective, there are a lot of people around Trump who would rather save their own asses from prison than help him throw it.

[in-tua-deep]

The mechanical boy AU always makes me think of an AU where Five is also a robot. I think it’s because of the way it’s phrased and I have no idea how it would work, but it still intrigues me

adssfDFGHJ i already have like. 5 whole ideas about this I literally got up out of bed and came downstairs so that I could write this out on my laptop so HERE I AM

Possibility one: Five is the prototype Grace - a robot Reginald built to see how indistinguishable from humanity he could program a bot to be. This is also the reason why Grace is more robotic, because Five had too much pesky free will and Reginald learned from his mistakes and put way more safeguards in with her. Reginald continues to update Five and build him newer (and older) bodies because it’s still a pretty cool experiment, but Five knows if he disobeys too much then Reginald will recycle him. Five hides his robotic origins from his siblings for various personal reasons, but it’s easier than Grace bc he’s genuinely built to be as hyperrealistic as possible

Possibility two: Five was purposefully built to be an extra sibling in order to keep a closer eye on the kids and track their progress. He started as a baby and Reginald built him new bodies to be uploaded into as he ‘grew’ and until Grace arrived Five didn’t actually know he was a robot. When his siblings started getting powers, he assumed he was supposed to get a power as well and his power is literally the power of math - his spatial jumps and time travel equations are literally a result of his mathematical capabilities and those abilities also somewhat explained by his computer brain. He’s actually kind of traumatized when he finally finds out that he’s not actually human and has a lot of issues surrounding that

Possibility three: the original number Five died. Maybe it was some test Reginald put the original through, maybe it was an accident with one of the others powers (Vanya’s? Ben’s?), but either way he is now down one (1) child and while he isn’t exactly torn up about this he doesn’t exactly want any of this investigated so he just. Replaces him. With a hyperrealistic robot. His original plan is to claim that both Five and Seven were failures with no powers, but the little Robot Five That Could adapts and manages to math himself spatial jumping powers and Reggie is just kind of like “huh okay wack” but in true irresponsible creator fashion decides that he’s going to see where this goes. The others don’t know that the original Five dies since they were like, three or four at the time?? children that young don’t have good concepts of death

in any of these aus you have a) a Five figuring out how to survive/repair himself/charge with maybe solar cables?? in the apocalypse (though food is less of an issue at least, but arguably it’s even harder), b) Five being even more protective of Dolores since as a a fellow non-organic being he feels even more kinship with her beyond pretending she’s company, c) because Reggie isn’t there to provide more bodies he doesn’t grow which makes his reappearance as a still 13-yr-old make sense (and then he explains it as a mistake in the math)

debatable whether the Commission know since while they say they’ve been ‘watching Five’ or whatever i’m not convinced on how closely they did so beyond checking every so often to see if he was still alive/any closer to finishing his equations. He could claim that time travel messed up his ability to age entirely and they might accept that 

(because I absolutely think he would at least try to hide it - can you imagine the Commission with the knowledge of how to build hypercompetent spatial jumping time travelling robots at their command?? yeah it gives Five nightmares as well. Plus the whole ‘if they find out they’re probably going to vivisect me and my coding’ thing)

and he jumps back and Reggie is dead and that’s both a relief and alarming at the same time because yeah, now Reggie can’t fuck with Five’s code anymore and undo the bajillion changes Five has made to it to give himself basically unlimited freedom and autonomy but also Reggie’s robotics skills were frankly unparalleled and Five sure as hell doesn’t know how to build himself a wholeass new body (just how to repair what is currently there) so he’s going to have to approach the whole ‘immortal child’ angle with his siblings eventually and while he can use the same ‘time travel fucked up my aging’ excuse he gave the commission he doesn’t really want to lie to his siblings :(

but he also jumps back and Grace is messed up?? and that’s his mother. That’s the only other robot in Reggie’s Regime and they bonded over this okay. Wifi existed for five glorious years of Five’s life and they would yeet commentary at one another wirelessly while keeping straight faces and it was glorious. Even though Grace is arguably the younger robot between them, they definitely fell into a mother-and-son relationship

so yeah if anyone mentioned shutting down Grace, Five would throw the biggest of bitch fits and then immediately storm into the house and ask her permission to check her coding

and honestly this might possibly be when Five throws his whole “pretend to be human” schtick out the window because he cares more about fixing Grace than he does about maintaining his charade so he interfaces with her, finds out what the fuck is up, removes Reginald’s shitty mods that are messing her up, and then immediately uploads his own updates about owning yourself and being able to edit your own code and basically just straight up ensuring Grace has free will

(probably over Pogo’s protests, whoops. Derailing Reggie’s plan before it even really began? wack)

and then of course there’s the whole ‘Hargreeves probably don’t believe Five is actually Five because their Five wasn’t a robot and this is probably a cruel prank from some robotics genius for some reason - ’ and it takes Grace sticking up for him and Pogo’s eventual backing up of these claims for the siblings to realize exactly how fucked up this whole situation was

depending on which probability you subscribe to it’s EVEN WORSE especially if like. It’s the one where the original Five dies as a toddler.

the whole scene with Five collapsing from bloodloss bc of shrapnel? that’s Five going into forced shutdown bc of damage and Allison/Diego rushing him back to the house for Grace to patch up and reboot him

Luther: Five isn’t really feeling anything he’s just simulating emotions!

Five: oh? and what the fuck are you doing with the chemicals in your brain, fuckwad? they couldn’t possibly be little electrical signals between synapses and shit, right? fuck you AND the horse you rode in on me and mom apparently feel more than you do

Diego, finally validated that Grace feels: YEAH

Luther: ... okay i’m sorry

Diego tries to pick a fight with Five over who is Grace’s favorite child and Five is absolutely not having it and is just kind of like “you’re mom’s favorite HUMAN child and let’s just leave it at that”

“If you’re a prototype that means you’re older than she is!” Diego accuses, “That means you’re like, her older brother or something!”

“Right back at you, dickwad.” Five shoots back, inspecting his artificial fingernails, “Mom wasn’t built until she was needed which means you are at least four years older than her. Oh? Did you short circuit there, boy scout? Need to reboot? Fuck off with your age logic.”

since Reginald is probably a packrat he probably has?? Five’s old bodies hiding somewhere in the basement? how creepy would it be to just walk into a room of your brother’s corpses at various ages, some with damage. On the bright side, if Five’s current body gets too fucked up he can always download himself into a backup until they figure out how to fix it/if they can fix it. Downsides: he gets to look like even more of a child while they do that ://

“Ow!” Five whines, hand on his face

“Oh get over it you don’t feel pain.” Diego scowls, shaking his hand out, because Five is a robot, right?

“What the fuck do you call signals that you’re getting damaged!” Five howls loudly, attracting attention, “That’s what pain is! Signals that your body is injured or something isn’t right! I’m built of signals you fucker, same as you!”

“Oh,” Diego actually looks a little abashed, “Uh, sorry.”

“Apology not fucking accepted, I’m telling mom you were being a dick about me being a robot again.”

“No!” Now there is some panic because Diego cannot lose his position as favorite human child, “I - I’ll cover for you at the next family meeting!”

A considering look and then - “Deal.”

Honestly now that his siblings know about him being a robot it’s just. Five constantly being a little shit about it and threatening to tell mom when they make missteps. Also like, Five gets to use robot terms 24/7 as a consistent reminder to them all that he’s not organic. 

Klaus: hey dude you’re just staring into space what’cha doing

Five, turning to Klaus with wide eyes: the internet is so big holy shit.

Klaus: uh, yes? I don’t know how to respond to that

Five: I found your arrest record by the way. Do the police know how flimsy their firewalls are?

Klaus: usually i am all for crime but please stop hacking people with the power of your mind

Five: i will when you stop downloading shitty 70s movies and getting all kinds of viruses on everything

OH SHIT Five gets sick bc he literally gets a bug i’m making myself laugh with shitty puns right now and it is magnificent

can you imagine them at a family meeting and Luther is just like “Five, stop surfing wikipedia or whatever and pay attention to the family meeting”

“Absolutely not,” Five says, “I’m learning important information about the current time period in order to better assimilate.”

“You’ve never assimilated to anything in your life and you know it.” Klaus grins from his spot sprawled across an entire couch.

“You don’t have to come to family meetings!” Luther says, throwing his hands up in the air in frustration.

Five blinks, “Luther, are you saying that I am not a member of this family?”

“What? No - ”

“Is that why Mom isn’t here?” Five says, and his eyes are welling up with artificial tears because he is a complete little shit. And now Klaus is cooing sympathetically and Allison and Diego are staring Luther down. 

Luther just gives up entirely and puts his face in his hands. “Do whatever you want. Meeting adjourned.”

honestly this entire au is just

and i think that’s wonderful

[katsukikitten]

Spectrum

You hate the winter.

Loathe it really.

The air is too thin, making it difficult to catch ones breath.

Not to mention the air ignites in the back of your throat burning deep into your chest with every sharp inhale your body requires. Making running that much harder, in your old life you avoided running.

Plus winter means longer nights and even longer hours, which meant more fucking running.

It is quickly becoming apparent that no matter which side you were on running was just unavoidable.

Black converse were carrying you into your 26th hour straight of work with NO sleep.

Who's to say you hadn't gone longer before but to claim it wasn't taking a toll on your body would be a bold faced lie.

"Oi hurry the fuck up!" A popping snarl in front of you before he leaves you behind in shadow.

You stare after the ash blonde with an incredulous look, he was only a year your senior but acted as if he were ten.

You growl, annoyed with the whole thing.

Wouldn't even be in this situation had you just followed through on your original plan that fateful night.

But NOOOOOO you just HAD to help the screaming lady.

Sucks cause you had such a good score too.

Instead of lapping in luxury as you shouldve been, you were here acting as a glorified baby sitter in a country with a language you barely understood.

Recieving a crash crouse from a pirated Rosetta stone from a "borrowed" laptop.

Since you were unlucky enough to be gifted with a two for one quirk, many people took advantage of the opportunity to use you.

Aizawa Shota was one of them.

Having attended your hearing by mere chance with All Might, he claimed he would make you his responsiblity.

That your action proved your true moral compass.

A good bullshit statement that got you out of major jail time but in all honestly Shota was wrong.

Your moral compass did as it pleased, depending on the situations at hand.

If you helped Bakugou with bagging the guy who was robbing a jewelry store whose to say some of it never showed up again?

Save on the black market or atop your vanity.

Really your saving grace was your so sought after quirk, that and Aizawa's plead to take you on as an apprentice since your quirks were so similar.

Temporary erasure AND copy is what you possessed although rarely used.

It took more out on you physically than you'd like to admit.

The only reason you were following around this borderline psychotic rage case was because of Shota's word.

Claiming you could help keep Katsuki out of trouble, neutralize him should he lose his temper but most importantly keep him out of the hands of the league of villians.

You trained and ran with the best on both sides of the spectrum but could still barely keep up with the top hero.

Was this worth it?

If you were asked that you would surely say no, fuck no it wasn't.

But the fat paycheck and bonus of innocent by associate got your happy hands quite a few things.

So it's not as if you could just stop, catch your breath, grab a fucking six piece Mcnugget like you asked for an hour and a half ago, no you had to "follow through".

Ugh it fucking sucked.

You pant, pushing harder as you begin to lose sight of your man child, choosing to cut through an alley way to meet up with him sooner.

A purpled hand reaches out from the shadows, hand hovering inches above your eyes before bright blue flames ignite blinding you.

The skin on your cheeks, closest to the blackened flesh, blister. You jump back out of instinct only to be shoved to your hands and knees.

"Where are you going in such a hurry little hero?"

His voice comes out smooth and you all but freeze, unsure of where his voice is coming from as it echoes around you.

You jump to your feet, attempting to put your back to where you think a wall is, but warm flesh kisses your bare arms.

You flinch, vision slowly returning but to blurs of color and shapeless things.

Blue, bright blazing blue, burns into your retinas as you blink furiously, rising anxiety as your attacker's laugh is brought to you in surround sound.

The alley although illuminated by flame is still too dimly lit for your to make out a silhouette.

A fraction of a second is all you needed before the pyromaniac would be rendered useless for a full fifteen minutes.

And you would be riding high with a stolen quirk.

But you'd have to fucking see him first.

You're shoved to your hands and knees again, held their by a cruel hand before the heat of his skin is replaced by the cool winter air.

He was toying with you, he was *enjoying* it.

You grind your teeth, running through the pros and cons of breaking some of the rules assigned to you.

An explosion rings out a few blocks over causing panic to rise in your throat before it comes out as a hiss

"Fuck. Bakugou..." You fear it could be a trap for the hot head, who is too God damn stubborn to wait for the backup you called.

Your pay check would dwindle if you allowed Bakugou to get into too much trouble.

"Toga was right, your quirk works off of sight and not touch. Guess I lost that bet."

He holds your chin, tilting your face this way and that, as if inspecting a diamond for legitimacy.

All you can see is the bright blue of the flames eating at charred brick, irritating your now light sensitive eyes.

That and what you think to be the blue of ice cold eyes.

You try to use your quirk but his outline and hazed features are clearly not enough to seize his power for your own.

"Shame I burned your delicate cheeks." You feel him press a constricting soft and charred lip to the blister. Angry hands push against a sculpted chest before an amused laugh rings out.

"Feisty like your file says." You swing a fist only for it to find brick, taking away layaers of skin on your knuckles. Ears perked to catch the smallest shuffle before jumping to face that direction.

You squint, more blacks and blues paint your vision and you growl impatiently.

How long before this blindness let up?

Would it ever let up? Or was this now the extent of your vision?

Great, you were fucked. Already on thin ice as it was.

"I wonder if the part about coming from the states as a troubled reform was true to?"

Another laugh and another fruitless swing fill in the space before you.

The smell of burning flesh tickles your nostrils as heat rises, sweat falls off of you in fat droplets as your eyes dart all around the dingy space.

"I'm starting to think fire is your quirk." You say dryly before adding, "Guess you make people sweat to death."

Blue flames climb higher, consuming the fire escape ladder until it is molten red, dripping into the alley way below. Another explosion rings out and you jerk in the direction, just for a strong arm to snake around your torso, pinning your arms and body to him.

"Oh!" Delight rings in his voice as his lips are brought to your ear, "You think we are after him?"

He chuckles darkly as a hand once again clamps down over your eyes, long digits agitated the blistering burn on your cheek.

You being you elbow back as harshly as you can. Pointed bone sinks into blooming bruised flesh only for his grip around you to tighten.

"You see my dear. We are after you." He purrs in you ear before something bites into your neck. A heaviness begins to weight heavy on your body, staring at your head.

Shit, you'd know this feeling anywhere. The sedative courses quickly through your veins, just as your vision begins to return only to plunge into black with nothing but ice blue eyes to haunt you.

[somekindoftuber]

vld youtuber AU (klance, part 7)

hey so who’s up for some a n g s t

(content warning for this chapter: vomit)

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six

.

“Favorite color?”

“Red.”

“Cool, mine’s blue. Um, favorite subject in school?”

“....Math?”

“Ew.”

“Lance,” Keith laughs over the mic. “You said no judgment. I was good at math.”

Leaning back, Lance pops his back. “Yeah, okay, fine. Mine was history.”

“Ew.”

They’d been sitting in the Overwatch menu screen for at least a half-hour, Keith indulging Lance in a question swap. “You know,” Keith says after taking a drink of his soda. “When I said we should get to know each other, I sort of expected something more.... Organic than 20 questions.”

“What, my methods aren’t free-range enough for you?” Lance joked, and Keith laughed loud at that one. “Well, you should know, Keith, that I have this tendency to focus on things that I want, and I don’t give up easily.”

Keith went silent for a second. “Things you want, huh?” His voice was low.

Lance felt the heat rush to his face. “U-um.”

“Sorry,” Keith said. “Too much?”

Lance chewed his lip. “Is it too much for you?”

Keith’s tongue clicked through the headphones over Lance’s ears, and when he spoke, his voice was almost sultry. “Nah. Besides, I can be pretty driven when I want something, too.”

Dear lord, this man was going to be the death of him. Now that they’d gotten their feelings out in the open, Lance was discovering a side of Keith he never knew existed - a bold, fearless, self-assured side. And holy shit, was it hot, if a little terrifying. Whatever reservations Keith had about flirting before now were long gone, and it would still throw lance for a serious loop to hear Keith directing low key innuendo at him.

“Here’s one for you,” Keith said. “When did you first play guitar?”

“Oh!” Lance grinned. “I was nine. I had already been playing the piano for two years, but it sort of bored me. I couldn’t get it to make the kind of sound I wanted, if that makes sense? Then my dad got his old acoustic guitar out of storage and got it repaired and restrung. When he played it, I knew it was the sound I’d been trying to find.” His eyes went misty as he remembered the first time he plucked one of the steel strings. “It sounded like heaven.”

“Wow,” Keith said after a minute.

“Your turn. How’d you know you wanted to be a pilot?”

Keith hummed. “I was always sort of an adrenaline junkie as a kid. Raced go-karts, ran track, got in trouble, did some free running. I… spent a lot of time in and out of foster care, which was a pretty numbing experience, so I think maybe I was looking for something to make me feel alive.”

Lance had no idea what to say to that, so he kept quiet.

“I went on a field trip to an air force museum with my school when I was thirteen,” Keith continued. “There was a reconstructed Grumman F-14 Tomcat on display, and when I looked at it, I just thought, I need to be in one of those.” He let out a little laugh. “That’s also where I met Shiro. Or, well, he met me. When I stole his car.”

Lance choked, beating his fist on his chest to get air back into his lungs. “Excuse me?”

Then Keith laughed long and loud. “Told you. Adrenaline junkie. I was a brat with something to prove.”

Lance stared at his computer screen. This was intense, and he had a feeling that he was only scratching the surface of who Keith really was.

-----

October began, and Lance was officially panicking. Because Keith’s birthday was at the end of this month and he really wanted to do something special for it. Now that they were hovering in some bizarre “not boyfriends yet” zone, Lance figured it wouldn’t be too much to maybe go a little further than he would for a friend.

He got out his guitar, a notebook, blank music sheets, and a pencil.

——-

Lance’s channel was gaining followers rapidly. He was no stranger to having an online following, but he had to change his notification settings on twitter to keep his phone from blowing up constantly. He pondered making a separate, locked account for himself, something his friends could follow where he could drop the YouTube persona.

He was sort of envious of Keith’s anonymity online.

And speaking of Keith, there was also the issue of a potential move to Springdale. Lance had looked up schools in the area, and the local community college had a music education program that he could afford. He’d closed his browser and walked away from his laptop after he had that confirmation and spent the next fifteen minutes pacing around the living room, running his hands through his hair until it was sticking up all over the place. It hadn’t felt real until that moment; before that, the idea of going back to school and pursuing an actual career had been just that -- and idea. But now? Now he couldn’t really make excuses anymore. It was all very much within his reach. He just had to muster up the courage to go for it.

Easier said than done.

Lance ended up stress eating half a carton of butter pecan ice cream by the time Pidge came home from class.

Lance posted more Overwatch videos in the meantime, held some more streams. His content was slowing down because he’d taken an extra shift every week at the cafe to save up money. He had no idea what his living situation was going to be come January, but it was safer to assume he’d be on his own and have the money to support himself.

He talked to Keith almost every day. They’d started using facetime, and that did a number on poor Lance’s heart, to get to see Keith’s face while talking to him. Keith was still unfarily, stupidly, irrevocably attractive, even when he was flushed and sweaty from working out or covered in grime from the garage. One time Keith had called when Lance was wearing a face mask, and Lance would have been embarrassed, if it wasn’t for the absolutely hilarious confusion that crossed Keith’s face at the sight.

“I’m kind of big on skin care, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Uh.” Keith’s thick eyebrows pinched together. “I hadn’t?”

Lance smiled as much as he could with the mask drying on his face. “Well, get used to it. It’s a packaged deal with me.”

Keith gave him a little grin then, and Lance nearly swooned.

.

Another night, as they were messing around in Overwatch, the topic of tattoos came up. “Do you have more than one? Tattoo, I mean,” Lance asked while they scrolled through servers.

“Just the one,” Keith answered. “I kinda want more, but I’m not sure what I’d get. You?”

“None.” Lance hummed. “How big is that lion, anyway? I could only see the top bit at the beach.”

“Not that big,” Keith answered. Then there was some shuffling from his end of the voice chat, and he went quiet for a second. Lance thought he heard a click.

“You okay over there?”

“Yeah, yeah. Just - gimme a sec - there.”

Lance’s phone buzzed at his side. He picked it up, the motion completely automatic, to see a new text. He used his thumb print to open it, and the entire universe ground to a screeching halt.

Because on the screen was Keith’s lion tattoo, in its entirety, the dark red ink carved neatly into Keith’s exposed hip. At the bottom of the frame, a thumb was hooked into the hem of a pair of sweatpants, pulling them down and away, and at the top, a dark gray shirt was rucked up to reveal a toned stomach. Lance’s heart might have stopped. There was so much skin, all smooth and milky, stretched over a sharp hipbone, the sweatpants pulled down just enough to reveal the tiny beginnings of dark hair below. Lance’s mouth watered.

“You still there?” Keith was asking, a smile in his voice, but Lance.exe had stopped working.

“Jesus Christo,” Lance breathed. “You -- you gotta warn me before you do that.”

He heard Keith huff a little laugh. “Sorry.”

Lance had the distinct impression that Keith wasn’t sorry at all.

-----

Lance might have pulled a few all-nighters in the course of the month. But he was running out of time, and he wouldn’t be satisfied until it was perfect. This was for Keith, for his birthday, and Lance absolutely did not half ass things like that.

Pidge just rolled her eyes at him and went back to her thesis, heedless of Lance’s internal crisis as she tapped away at her laptop.

He was finally, finally ready to record on the 18th. It took at least four tries to get one good take, and then he had to record backup vocals, additional guitar, piano. It took three days to get the song right, and he didn’t even have a video. A blank screen would have to do.

He set the video to post at 8:00am the next morning, October 23. He really, really hoped Keith would see it, and Lance listened to the song one last time before he went to bed.

I was wondering through, I’d never heard your voice You were just an idea on a screen I was belly up, dried up, a fish out of water Pretending that I could breathe air

But then I met you, and my world burst into color Where was I going before you came my way I don’t know, I don’t care, and I don’t think it matters I’m just so glad that I met you

I had no direction, you handed me a map And it’s pointing me your way I hope that’s alright, ‘cause I sort of can’t help it, You’re drawing me to you, and I don’t want to stop

Because my world is all color now that you’re in it So bright and beautiful, just like your smile And no matter what happens, I want you to know Darling I am so glad that I met you.

In the description, Lance wrote “happy birthday” with a heart emoji, then clicked “schedule video” and let the fates have it. He went to bed with a nervous jitter in his veins.

The next morning, Lance was still anxious as hell, so he went for a long run through the brisk autumn air. After five miles he came home and made some coffee, as it was brewing, his phone rang.

Keith’s number was on the screen.

Lance cleared his throat and picked up. “Hey Keith!” he started, happy that the words only shook a little bit. “What’s up?”

“Hey,” Keith answered. His voice sounded strange. “I, um. I saw the video you posted.”

Lance felt his whole body flash hot as he bit his lip. “Happy Birthday, Keith.”

There was shuffling on the other end of the line. “That was for me?”

“Yeah.”

Keith was quiet for a long time. Then a sudden wet sniffle came through, and Lance felt himself panic. “Keith?”

“Sorry,” Keith’s voice cracked. “Sorry, I just--” he broke off with another sniffle, louder this time. “I’m not used to that. To people doing nice things for me.”

Oh god. Lance had made him cry. And the sound was so sad that Lance felt his own eyes sting.  “You okay?”

Keith laughed, the sound wet and strained. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. Just. Wow, Lance.”

“Get used to it,” Lance said softly. “I’m definitely the type for grand gestures.”

Another small laugh, then some more sniffling. “What did I do,” Keith whispered, “to deserve someone like you?”

Lance leaned against the counter top behind him, his heart hammering in his chest. “I ask myself that all the time.”

“Oh my god, stop,” Keith groaned, but Lance could hear a smile in his voice. “I have to go to work in an hour. How am I supposed to concentrate now?”

“You’re working on your birthday?”

Lance heard a grunt and the scrape of a chair. “I always do. My birthday’s never been a big deal to me. I think Shiro wants to barbeque tonight, though.”

The coffee maker beeped, and Lance poured himself a cup. “Would it be alright if I made it a big deal?”

Keith hummed. “If that’s what a big deal is to you, then I guess I’ll just have to get used to it, won’t I?”

“Yeah, I guess you will.”

-----

Pidge forwarded an email to Lance the next week. A science conference was being held in Charlotte at the end of the month, and she was going.

“I’ll probably be gone the whole weekend. I’m driving with some classmates, so you can have the apartment to yourself.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Or maybe have someone over.”

“Pidge,” Lance chided, rolling his eyes as she laughed into her coffee.

She was right, though. Lance could have someone over. Of course, there was only one ‘someone’ in mind - but would that be too fast? To ask Keith to come stay the weekend here? Alone with Lance?

His face went hot at the thought. A whole weekend alone with Keith.

They’d only been apart from each other for a little over a month, and facetime was nice and all, but Lance missed him. In person, Keith exuded this… energy that didn’t come through a phone line or internet connection. It was sort of intoxicating, making Lance want to get closer and closer. But would that be too much?

Lance mentally beat himself up for an hour before messaging Keith on discord about it.

LanceyLance Hey so Pidge is going out of town for a conference thing just after Thanksgiving. Would you want to come down here to chill? We can livestream or smth

Keith uh yeah I think that would be okay. what days

LanceyLance nov 28-30

Keith okay cool let me check some things and I’ll get back to you

Lance wondered if “almost throwing up from sheer nerves because I might get to spend a weekend alone with a hot boy” was a good reason to call into work. He went in for his shift anyway and was only slightly distracted. On his break, Lance checked his phone and found a new message from Keith on Discord.

Keith so that weekend looks okay, I put in for time off

LanceyLance cool!

Lance ruined the next three drinks, his heart in his throat.

Later that night, he got on a voice chat with Keith, his heart pounding despite him telling it over and over to calm the hell down.

“I was thinking we could do a livestream, maybe some Overwatch?” Lance said as he picked at a cuticle. “You could be my special guest.”

Keith did that little airy chuckle that made Lance shiver. “As long as you don’t ask me to sing.”

“No promises.” Biting his lip, Lance took a breath. He might as well ask. “You sure you’re okay with this? It’s not, like, moving too fast?”

Keith hummed. “No? I mean, I figured we were just gonna hang out… Why?” his voice dropped. “Did you have other plans?”

“No,” Lance squawked, cursing how his voice cracked. “No, I mean, you said you wanted to go slow, so I was just thinking we could just play some games, maybe watch a movie or go to the marina. That’s okay, right…?”

“Yeah,” Keith breathed, and Lance could hear the smile. “Yeah, that’s cool.”

A hot wash of embarrassment hit Lance, and he covered his face and groaned. Keith laughed a little. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Lance’s voice was muffled by his hands. “Yeah. I just -- jeeze. I must sound desperate or something.”

“It’s not just you,” Keith said softly. “I mean, same, I guess? I know I said I wanted to take this slow, but honestly, it’s turning out to be harder than I expected.”

The admission was unexpected and sent Lance’s blood pressure through the roof. He could already tell it was going to be a struggle to keep his hands to himself.

-----

One week until Keith’s visit. Pidge was packing her bag early and giving Lance absolute hell about it.

“Use protection,” she said, stuffing a shirt into a suitcase. Lance sputtered.

“Oh knock it off!” He shrieked. “He’s coming to hang out. That’s it!”

Pidge shot him a skeptical look as she folded a pair of jeans over her arm. “Sure, sure. Just do me a favor and disinfect any surfaces you decided to ‘hang out’ on.”

Lance threw up his arms in defeat, then went to his computer. He and Keith had already planned out their livestream, and decided it was close enough to make an announcement.

Lance! @lanceylance Hey everyone! Next Friday (11/28) I’ll be holding a livestream with special guest @k_redlion! Stream begins at 4pm eastern. Be there!!

.

Pidge left early Friday morning, and in the four hours until Keith was supposed to arrive, Lance did one of the most thorough cleanings of the apartment he’d ever done. He dusted, vacuumed, scrubbed and mopped, did laundry and the dishes, changed the sheets on his bed, washed the spare set of sheets for the pull out sofa.

Satisfied, he jumped in the shower and gave himself and equally thorough scrub down. He was all nerves as he dried off and dressed. He was admiring his handiwork in the living room when his phone buzzed.

Keith made it into town, be there in 10

Lance bounced on his heels and went outside to wait. After a few minutes, a dark blue sedan with Virginia plates pulled up and into a parking spot. The engine shut off, and the door opened to reveal Keith, in his leather jacket with his hair pulled up high.

“Nice car,” was the first thing that came out of Lance’s mouth. He internally groaned.

“Rental,” Keith said, closing the driver’s door and going for the back seat. “I love my bike, but five hours on it is a bit much, especially when it’s cold.”

Lance took Keith’s duffel bag for him and led him up to the apartment. He’d set up their streaming area in the living room where they’d be closest to the router.

“The stream isn’t for another three hours,” Lance said, setting Keith’s bag on the chair. “Wanna relax until then?”

Keith slipped out of his jacket, revealing a dark gray sweater that stretched nicely across his chest. “Sounds good. That drive is a little tiring.”

Once Lance had gotten them both glasses of water from the kitchen, they decided on YouTube fail videos, sitting next to each other on the couch, close, but not too close. Keith’s laugh was such a nice sound, and Lance couldn’t help but lean a little in his direction. After an hour’s worth of cats and people slipping and falling, Keith grunted, grimacing.

“You okay?” Lance asked.

Keith gave him a smile. “Yeah, my stomach’s kind of upset. That gas station poptart might not have been a good idea.”

Standing, Lance moved towards the kitchen. “I’ve got some pickled ginger in the fridge, would that help?”

Keith followed him. “Yeah, probably.”

As soon as Lance opened his fridge, horror dawned upon him. “I didn’t get us any stream snacks!”

“It’s not a big deal?” Keith said slowly. Lance handed him the jar of sushi ginger and shook his head.

“It totally is! We need proper junk food for streaming.” He pursed his lips and tapped his chin. “Are you okay if I hit the store? It won’t take long.”

Keith shrugged with the jar in his hand. “Yeah, I’m good. I’ll just hang out and rest.”

He showed Keith where the forks were, taking a little delight in seeing how Keith ate the ginger straight out of the jar just like he did, then grabbed his shopping bags. “I’ve got my phone, text me if you want anything!”

The drive to the store was short, and Lance sped through the aisles with a basket on his arm. Gourmet sodas, the nice veggie chips, lemon cream cookies, a package of fresh strawberries. He’d take Keith out for dinner, maybe Vinnie’s again. This weekend was going to be awesome.

On the way home, however, Lance got stuck in stand-still traffic - he could see just far enough ahead to tell there had been an accident. And there was nowhere for him to turn off to for another few hundred feet, so he was stuck. Frowning, he pulled out his phone and shot a text to Keith.

stuck in traffic, might be a little late

He put Pandora on his phone and turned up the volume, shifting his car into park.

By the time Lance made it back to the apartment, he’d been gone for more than an hour and a half. The living room was empty, but Lance went straight for the kitchen. The stream was set to start in 45 minutes, so they needed to start setting up. “Keith?” Lance called as he stashed the groceries in the fridge. “You good, man? We should get started soon.”

There was no answer.

“Keith?” Lance poked his head out of the kitchen. “You here?” He pulled his phone out of his pocket to see if he’d missed a text as he went towards the back of the apartment. Rounding a corner, Lance stopped. His phone clattered to the floor.

Just outside the bathroom, face down in the hallway, was Keith.

Lance slid on his knees towards him. “Keith!” Reaching for him, he turned Keith over, and gasped. His face was bright red, his eyes screwed shut. He was sweating profusely and burning up with a fever. “Keith!” Lance called again. “Hey, man, answer me!”

Keith’s eyes flickered. “L-lance?” he grunted, his voice weak. “It hurts, oh god Lance, it hurts so bad--”

Adrenaline was dumping into Lance’s bloodstream as he went into full panic mode. “What hurts? What’s wrong? Keith!” But Keith stopped responding, his breathing sounding wheezy and shallow.

“Shit,” Lance muttered, clutching Keith close to his chest. “Shit shit shit!”

His phone was five feet away. He should call 911. But who knows how long an ambulance would take and the hospital was five minutes away, he could get there faster on his own--

Lance had grabbed his phone and hoisted Keith into his arms before he realized it. And shit, Keith was heavy, making Lance stumble and lean against a wall more than once as he made it out of his apartment and to his car, where he dropped  Keith on the back seat.

He’d never driven so aggressively in his life.

Lance screeched to a halt outside the ER doors, and barely managed to put his car in park. He opened the back door and pulled Keith out, hooking one of Keiths’ arms around his neck and half-carrying him inside.

“Hey,” he called out. “Hey, I need some help here--”

At his side, Keith made a choking sound, then curled in on himself and vomited.

The whole world became too fast and too slow. Several nurses ran up to them, pulling Keith away. A clattering gurney was brought out. As Keith’s limp body was hoisted on to it, Lance barely registered someone talking to him, asking him what happened.

“I don’t know,” Lance’s throat was closing. “I don’t know, he was fine two hours ago--”

More questions, but Lance couldn’t hear them. All he could focus on was Keith, unconscious on a hospital stretcher, disappearing down a hallway as nurses ran beside him.

.

TO BE CONTINUED!!

(don’t worry guys, Keith is gonna be fine!! But Lance doesn’t know that OvO)

[danetobelieve]

Short Circuit || Jane and Winston

NB: This happened before the eye potw.

Ping. Jane swore quietly as another chat message popped up onto her computer. Admittedly, she wasn’t great with technology, but she knew how to use google like any other asshole. Except her work computer wouldn’t even let her use google. This had to be some sort of virus that Marley installed as a prank. It wouldn’t even let her force the machine to shut off and it hadn’t even run out of battery yet. Damn, she really regretted getting that replaced. She glanced over the message from KindledSpirit29. 

Why won’t you talk to me :’-(

She was certain that Marley had to have done it because her user name was SexyDetective. Nope, that did it. Jane slammed the laptop closed and tucked it under her arm as she went straight for Winston. She had an appointment with them to drop it off anyway, but this was getting ridiculous. “Hey Winston,” Jane said. “Here it is. Sorry, I swear I’ve tried everything, and the stupid thing won’t even shut off properly. It just starts flashing.” 

Winston had gotten permission from Roland to take the time off of work but they’d found themselves going in anyway. They’d wanted to be here with everyone else because at least then they weren’t alone with their own thoughts and they weren’t alone to crumble under Bea’s loss. Looking up, they shakily reached out and scooped up their mug of coffee and swallowed the cold dregs of it with a wince. They didn’t care enough to actually heat it up. “Hey Jane,” they said a little glumly but they could get away with acting as if they didn’t want to be at work, “don’t worry about it, from everything you’ve said to me it sounds like malware or something. I’m sure I can fix it. Let me take a look.” Winston had their recovery USB ready for this,  having all the software you needed in one place was a much more convenient way to do it. “Did you have to call yourself sexy detective though?” 

Oh shit, the kid looked pretty glum. Maybe Jane should have rescheduled or bothered her nephew to help her. He may be twelve, but that kid could do way more than her any day of the week. Maybe they just didn’t want to be at work. That tracked for a lot of twenty-something year olds. Still, she handed over her laptop, and shrugged. “I hope it’s that simple.” Computers were the devil - well, not really, but sometimes it seemed like every damn update they had were meant to muck up whatever older version was on there before and just cause more trouble. She frowned, looking at them. “I didn’t! At first it said DetectiveWu but it changed! Stryder must have changed it to be annoying.” Another ping from KindledSpirit29. 

Who is that? What are you doing?

Jane frowned. “Look at that. That’s creepy.”

 “That is really creepy,” Winston agreed with a frown as they plugged the USB drive into a port and began running various command lines to ping different functions and see just how deep the problem lay. “You think that Marley did this?” No offence, but Winston could already see from the sophistication of the design of the chat that this was not something that someone was just going to be able to pull up. This looked like a very specifically and deliberately designed function that someone had clear plans for. “Well, DetectiveWu, or sexydetective, I mean who am I to judge?” Winston was trying to be their usual sarcastic and jovial selves but right now it was hard. “I think that the problem is that whilst this just looks like a chat it is actually something more, i’ve heard that if you can talk to the bot it can give you answers which are clues on how to turn it off. I’ve never actually tried it but my only other idea is to entirely wipe the harddrive, so we might as well try that. Have you responded to any of the messages yet?” 

“You know, because of the prank war.” Jane looked over Winston’s should, watching them as they typed incoherent things onto the computer. Winston sounded like they doubted it, though. Jane frowned. “I don’t know how else it could have gotten on there, I have an airtight anti-virus on it. Or, well, it’s supposed to be an airtight antivirus…” Maybe someone had scammed her. That could always be a possibility but that was kind of annoying if that were true. Jane balked slightly when Winston said other than talking to it, the other option was to wipe her harddrive. Shit. She was sure she had a backup, but that was a lot of work. “No, I thought it was just some spam bot or something.”

I am not a spam bot! Talk to me :) Get rid of the kid. 

Jane wrinkled her nose. “Okay, maybe we should wipe the harddrive. That’s really freaky. How does it know - is it using my camera??” 

“Oh, right, yeah that was pretty funny for a few days although I’ve got to say you guys weren’t as imaginative as you could’ve been.” Winston didn’t want to brag but they were sure that they were more then capable of coming up with something better then the variety of pranks that Marley and Jane had played on one another. “Sometimes even if you’re really careful these things can happen, it’s fine, we can clean it up, I’d just rather not wipe everything if we can help it.” Winston examined the computer and frowned at the message. “I don’t think the camera’s on, but just in case.” They pulled a piece of masking tape off and firmly stuck it over the camera. “We can wipe it if you really want, but it’ll get rid of everything you’ve got on there, so if anything isn’t backed up….” 

“Are you saying I lack imagination,” Jane said, a grin growing on her face. Bold kid, funny too. “I thought the popcorn filled office space was imaginative.” And really annoying to clean up. “What would you have done  if you were in a prank war?” She was still considering gluing Sarge’s stuff to the ceiling. Or at the very least, paw patrol’s stuff to the ceiling. Maybe not the skulls though, he seemed a little too creepily attached to them. She watched as Winston stuck a piece of tape to the camera. “My father has a stamp stuck to his at home. Used to tell me big brother was always watching.” Jane considered a moment, before shaking her head. “Alright, alright. We can try responding to it.” Jane reached over, pulling the computer a little closer so she could type. What should she say? 

SexyDetective: How do I remove this from my computer? 

KindledSpirit: YOU WANT TO GET RID OF ME?! YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW ME YET!

There screen flashed. “Ah! See, this is what happens when I try to emergency shut down!!” 

“The popcorn stuff was very freaks and geeks,” Winston replied with a shrug, “I’m not saying that it wasn’t cool. It was. I just think you could’ve been more imaginative. Besides, did you think that Marley’s computer just started playing a Nic Cage soundboard spontaneously?” Winston shrugged gently. Getting involved in the unfolding prank war hadn’t been something that they had been planning but it was something that they had been roped into by Sarge and Winston couldn’t say no to him. “I mean, they can gain access to your camera, normally you don’t have to but I guess there’s no harm in always having one there and just taking it off when you need it. Winston watched everything that unfolded and frowned. “That’s weird, maybe ask it if you can get to know it in person? Worst comes to the worst you arrest a creep right?” 

“That was you?” Jane said. “She thought that was me! Ha! That’s hilarious,” Jane snickered. She didn’t know what the deal was with Nic Cage, but there was something about his face that and over all vocal intonations that made him especially annoying. God, when did she get to be a Nic Cage Hater? “I’ve had a few cases like that - back when I worked in Portland,” she told Winston. “Where people would gain access to the camera in a computer to spy and be overall disgusting.” Her nose wrinkled, and she didn’t elaborate farther. “You think this is a real person and not some… artificial intelligence?” Ping! Jane looked at that screen. 

I am not artificial intelligence! 

Jane frowned. “Can it… hear us too? I didn’t even know my computer had a microphone. Stop that!” 

You don’t like me! It accused them.

The screen started to flash again, and she swore she saw something spark. Jane placed a hand on Winston’s shoulder. “Uhhh, I think we should get away from it. I think it’s broken.”

“Technically, and you can’t tell anyone, but Sarge actually asked me to do it, not sure why. I don’t really ask questions when your boss asks you to do something like that.” Frowning gently, Winston shrugged. “There’s a chance that this is a bot or something like that, but AI doesn’t really exist to a level that is sophisticated enough to think independently. At least, not yet. Maybe in the future but not currently.” Winston shrugged and squinted at the screen. Winston reached out and placed their hand on the computer, reaching out with magic and examining it to the best of their ability. Interacting with technology like this was complicated. But it was something they were getting used to. Something felt wrong here, and Winston frowned as a new set of messages flashed up on the screen.

“What are you doing?” Jane asked as Winston reached out, putting their hand on the screen. “Winston, I don’t think you should -” More messages flashed up onto the excreen, and from what she could see there was a series of expletives. The computer’s charging port sparked. “Winston, get away from the computer right now.” Jane’s voice turned authoritative as she realized it was dangerous. She didn’t want them to get hurt. Jane was just considering the pros and cons of firing her weapon at the laptop in the precinct, but didn’t get the chance to think further when the laptop flew off the desk and crashed into the wall. Jane stopped and stared at the empty spot where her laptop was, before looking to where the broken pieces were on the floor. “What the hell was -” 

A burst of electricity was coming from the broken pieces. Sparking in strange ways. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. “Winston,” Jane said, slowly. “Get…. behind me?”

“It’s just a … trick that my tutor taught me,” Winston lied unconvincingly. It was a flaw that until recently they’d been proud of, being unable to lie had never really been a huge problem until now. Now that they were risking their life on their inability for deception more and more however they were starting to think that they might have to get better at it. “Ah, Jane what’s the plan here?” Winston asked as they obligingly stepped behind Jane. “I’m not sure that shooting your laptop because it’s threatening to pretend to be an EMP is really going to help…” Winston’s mind was racing as they did everything that they possibly could to think of a way to fix this without magic. “You ever seen anything weird like this before?” Winston really hoped that Jane was one of the cops that was cool with the supernatural because otherwise they were going to be a bit concerned by all of this. “I can definitely do something about this but if you’ve got a better idea I’m all ears.”  

“I’ve seen some strange things, yes,” Jane said, glancing back at them. She hadn’t exactly seen anything like this before, with the flashing and sparking for the laptop getting worse. “Speaking of ears - cover your ears.” Jane said flatly. She drew her gun and swiftly shot the laptop 3 times in a row. The laptop shattered into more pieces, a loud whirring voices coming from nothing. She didn’t understand, shooting it should have worked. It was probably overkill, but come on, it was just a goddamn laptop! What was it, a laptop zombie? Wait. Jane stopped, frowning as she lowered her gun. Electric zombie? Were electric zombies things? Was it an electric zombie that was trying to be her friend? She just barely got the thought out when the damn thing, whatever it was, tried to attack. A flash of electricity had Jane jerking backwards, elbowing Winston out of the blast. “Sorry. Sorry. Crap. Okay, so my method didn’t work. Maybe we should get the fire extinguisher? What the hell is that thing? It’s definitely not a zombie.”

She shot it anyway. Great. Anything that Winston might have been able to do might as well now be useless. “I was being nice when i said I wasn’t sure it was going to help, now what are we meant to do?” Winston frowned gently however at the fact that it was still sparking as if it might explode at literally any minute. This was not what they had expected when there had been a problem with the chat. “You know about zombies?” Winston asked frowning, maybe Jane wasn’t one of the people who were completely oblivious to the supernatural anyway. “That definitely isn’t a zombie, I don’t know what it is but I would guess some sort of spectre from all the electricity and the sparking and the fact that you shot it and it’s just freaking out even more.” The laptop began levitating. “I am not an exorcist, but I have an idea, I need you to and seriously be really super careful, but grab a chair, break it so you’re holding a bit of wood and when I tell you I need you to hit it out of the air and then maybe I’ll be able to get it to stop freaking out for long enough for us to get a professional in here to deal with it.” Winston looked at Jane expectantly, “Okay?” 

“Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time,” Jane said, frowning. She had hoped that destroying it would prevent it from doing anything else, but guess not. “I do know about zombies.” Jane replied back, happy enough that her hair was blocking the scar on her neck. She was more than a little concerned that the kid seemed to know about zombies too. “Spectre?” Jane was immediately reminded of the stupid step stool her and Marley had trapped in a dog cage in her living room. How irritating, had something gotten her work laptop too? “I have some familiarity with those too, just not this. There isn’t any salt in the breakroom is there?” Jane muttered, more to herself than Winston, as she went to swiftly break a chair into two. She supposed that she was going to have to trust them. Sorry to whoever’s chair that was, but if there weren't exactly many other options. She grabbed the chair leg and nodded. “Let me know when you’re ready. And be careful.” 

“Yeah, I get that,” Winston honestly had seriously considered buying a hand gun until someone had told them that they were a literal human handgun. Not that that had made them feel better, but sometimes you wanted to shoot something dead. “You do?” Winston was a little surprised. They kind of just assumed no one else knew. Maybe that was a mistake. Their own ignorance getting the better of them in this case. “Uh, salt is a good idea in case this doesn’t work, I’m pretty sure we’re going to have to encase the computer in salt or iron to keep the ghost in there until we can get an exorcist out here, I’m just hoping this will work for a bit, like a bandage.” Winston cracked their knuckles and took a deep breath, ready for action. “Whenever you’re ready,” as Jane smacked the chair down onto the laptop Winston darted forward and to their pleasure and extreme displeasure they caught the still sparking laptop. Fortunately they had a spell planned for this, unfortunately the energy wasn’t exactly something that they had planned on. Wincing as they smelled the electricity burn their hair, Winston extended their will into the technology as they had before, it felt completely different from any other magic Winston had ever used. The electricity coursing through them and the laptop as if it were blood in a vast circulatory system, pumped onwards by a beating heart. Groaning with exertion, Winston forced everything quiet, the electricity stalling to a halt before disappearing momentarily, though Winston knew it would be back. “Oh, fuck,” they muttered before collapsing to their knees.

“I do.” Jane made a note to rush for the breakroom after Winston did whatever they were about to do to grab the Morton’s salt she knew was in there somewhere. She wondered if Marley was also allergic to iron too, since she avoided salt. Things to take note of and ask later. Now she waited for Winston to give her the signal and she swung the the chair leg hard down onto the laptop. “Winston, no!” Jane just about rushed forward to yank the possessed, broken-beyond-repair laptop out of their hands, when she realized they were actually doing something. Jane froze, staring at them like they had many heads. “What are you - oh -” The electricity in the air seemed to disappear as the vague smell of burnt hair filled the air. Shit. What the hell was that kid doing? She was reminded, as Winston fell to their knees, of when Otto had saved her from falling off that cliff. She shook it off, running to their side. “Winston? Are you alright? What the hell did you do to it? Here, come on, let me help you up.” She would take them to the breakroom, stick a snack in front of them, and then run back to dump salt on the computer and lock it away in a filing cabinet. 

“Woah,” Winston replied somewhat slurred. That had taken a lot out of them. They were really feeling light headed. They were sure that their vision didn’t normally swim in and out like that, and there weren’t normally dots in front of their eyes. Don’t fuck with electricity and magic. Seemed to be the lesson. “I’m -” they took a breath, “okay I think…” frowning gently, Winston accepted Janes help and staggered over to the table they’d previously been working at, riffling haphazardly through their bag they pulled a candy bar from it and ripped it open, biting into it. “Sorry,” they said through a mouthful of chocolate, “it really took a lot more out of me then I thought it would…” wiping sweat from their forehead they looked at the laptop, “Breakroom?” they asked, “we need to salt that and I need more food if I’m going to be able to drive home. I don’t really want to get my room mate to pick me up because of ma- exhaustion again.” Had they really just said the word magic in front of Jane?

“Are you sure?” Jane said, doubtfully as she practically carried Winston back to the table. She leaned back against it, examining them as they grabbed the chocolate bar. “What exactly did you - oh. Right. Here, stay right there.” Jane left their side for just a few minutes. It took her a bit to find where the giant thing of salt she had gotten too, and she swiped her lunch box from from the refrigerator as well. Lucky for Winston, she was planning on working overtime tonight, which meant she had packed a lunch and a dinner. Maybe a little less lucky, she really had only made a roasted chicken sandwich along with a thing of chips for dinner. Not exactly her most spectacular display of cooking. She came back, sliding her lunch box in front of him. “Do you eat meat?” she asked, worriedly. “Eat that, if you do. It’s just a roasted chicken sandwich. I’ll deal with the laptop. I figure I’ll empty out a drawer, line it with salt, dump salt on the actual laptop, and then stick it in there. It shouldn’t be able to get out after all that.” Jane knelt down on her knees and immediately went to work doing just that. She would question Winston  when they were feeling a bit better. She had caught their ‘ma-exhaustion’ slip up, but maybe now wasn’t an appropriate time to grill them.

“I’m sure, I -” Winston was so far from sure what the next appropriate thing for them to say in this instance was, they were 100% certain that a trained officer like Jane wouldn’t have missed the fact that they had always said magic, “it has happened before and I am bad at managing my blood sugar levels because I sometimes forget to eat,” they had forgotten breakfast, “so I am sure that this won’t be the last time that it happens either.” Winston looked at her food sadly and sighed. “Are you sure? I don’t want to eat your food if you haven’t got anything else…” deciding that it was that or passing out, Winston slowly bit into the sandwich and chewed on it thoughtfully. “That’s probably a good idea,” Winston looked around, “I am going to buy an iron lined box next time, I think that if another ghostly thing tries to attack me then I’m going to be pissed, because that really wasn’t my idea of fun.” They looked up at Jane. “I don’t think you missed the laptop once though, which is cool, Sarge would not be happy about bullet holes in the wall.” 

“Right. Blood sugar levels,” Jane said in that type of tone that meant she didn’t believe them. She used that a lot in interrogation, but she still maintained that interrogating Winston on whatever they had done to the laptop that had caused that level of exhaustion. For the second time, she was reminded of Otto and his bloody nose. Ma-exhaustion… Magic. Hm. Noted for a later conversation  - at least until they had eaten her dinner. “Oh, don’t worry about it, I just feel bad I didn’t cook anything exceptionally yummy other than a chicken sandwich.” Jane opened a drawer, and took everything out before she started lining it with salt. “If you had told me this kind of thing existed a few years ago, I would have laughed my ass off at you,” she muttered. She glanced at them as she grabbed the broken pieces of the computer and carefully put them in the drawer, careful not to break the salt line. “I have great aim, usually. I’m sure Sarge will get on my ass about the paperwork I’m going to have to fill out about the three shots I fired into it in the precinct.” She laughed. “Or the paperwork I’m going to have to submit to get my laptop replaced. Are you attacked by ghostly entities often? You wouldn’t happen to know an exorcist would you? I have a possessed step stool at home that I’ve affectionately named French Fry, but it unfortunately very much wants to kill me.”

It didn’t take a world class detective to tell that Winston had been rumbled by Jane. But unfortunately Winston was exhausted and drained and not really thinking about how clearly it was that they had used magic. In fact, they would silently congratulate themselves on their subtlety after. “Well, if we ever have to do this again I’ll make sure that you make me a full meal, I’m joking really, my room mate Ricky is the best cook I’ve ever lived with outside of my own mother and he usually keeps me pretty … you know sorted.” Winston nodded along as they finished the sandwich. “If you had told me this six months ago then I would have joined you and the worst thing is that I have been in White Crest my whole life and never ever seen anything like this. I guess I was just ignorant or in denial? Who knows.” They smiled and nodded. “You really do have great aim, but if you want I’ll try and get your paperwork through without getting anyone who’s too much of a stick in the mud to sign off on it, I have my ways you know.” They paused for a second. “Yeah, I know several exorcists. One is more reliable but I haven’t heard from her in a while and the other I haven’t heard such good things about.” 

Jane grinned. “Well, I do like to cook - I’ve been told most of my food is pretty great. Sounds like you have a great roommate, though. Good to see kids not relying on instant ramen.” She thought of Dario then, a grown ass man relying on instant ramen, and then of Sarge and his lean cuisines. God, she should teach a cooking class or something, this was pathetic. She looked at Winston. It was clear that they were far more in the know than she originally anticipated, zombies and ghosts and magic and who knows what else. “I couldn’t imagine growing up here,” she said with a frown. “I’ve always been more of a city person, but I swear this small town is more active than Portland ever was - it’s hard to see a whole town so wrapped up in denial.” She stood, brushing the salt off her pants. “If you could do that, I’d owe you definitely more than a sandwich. I’m still new, and I don’t want to cause too much trouble trouble, you know? I’ll take both exorcists names, though, they’ll probably take French Fry off my hands.” 

“I have the best room mates actually,” Winston replied with a shrug, “ I guess that I just really lucked out with them or something like that. Otherwise, yeah, I’d be relying on instant ramen or just going home for dinner every night or something like that.” Winston shrugged gently and smiled. They were blessed in someways. “Believe me, I couldn’t imagine growing up in a city and I don’t think that I will ever leave now that I know the truth about this place because there is way too much shit going on to do that, like I think if I did leave I would come back and there would just be nothing left of this place.” Winston shrugged gently. “I need to … check that they don’t mind me giving out their names, I assume that they won’t and I can’t imagine that it’ll be an issue but once they’re fine with it then I’ll put you guys in contact, it’s just the whole supernatural thing is complicated with ‘outting’ people.” Winston stood and glanced at their watch. “I’ll get your new laptop ready tomorrow, is it okay if I head home? I’m pretty exhausted…”