#Or I just checked my work rotas and apparently I have a week off coming up :o

[somegrumpynerd]

Dude we have got to sort out the movie night situation. Rn we still need to watch El Dorado, and I'm pretty sure there was something else but I'm stupid and forgor what it was. We need a list. Next time you're free and willing!! We set it up :D /nf

SHIT I forgor too D: my bad!!

[dragon-kazansky]

Yes please do! Take your time on writing it! I understand the name changes. If you need to message me it you can

I'll try and keep it simple. These names are made up because I want to keep my colleagues privacy.

This is a long story.

When I got in this morning, my supervisor (Polly) and my colleague (Anya) were chatting. My supervisor had been ill with covid last week, so her shifts had been covered by our boss (Matt), who had to cover other shifts because 2 other colleagues then tested positive for covid. This is important to remember.

Matt was pissed that he had to cover so many shifts (2 of those being supervisors because otherwise we wouldn't have anyone to open the cafe). Which left the rest of us, myself, Abbie, and Anya.

When I got in, Polly and Anya turned to me and asked me about what happened yesterday. I told them everything. Abbie worked last Wednesday with Matt, and one other colleague who hadn't rested positive yet. Matt was getting worked up with all the orders, and was being quite demanding. Abbie has mental health issues due to her troubled childhood, and was doing her best to be her normal cheerful self and get everything done. On Wednesday afternoon Abbie complained about a pain in her chest. Matt asked if she was in pain, she replied that it hurt, so yes. He didn't do anything. Abbie tried to ignore it and carry on. A bit later her arm was tingling and her chest felt worse. Matt wouldn't call medical at the centre. Abbie panicked and called an ambulance, she was scared she was having a heart attack. He didn't say anything to her.

Abbie went to hospital that afternoon.

Yesterday Abbie was on shift with me, she was Ok. Basically she had an anxiety attack under the stress of Matt. Matt is to blame. Her doctor has her on medication as of today.

Now. This is where things take a turn.

We have this supervisor, Chloe. No one likes her. No one likes her because she's a snitch, she thinks she's a manager, she is not, and she complains about the way our actual manager (Polly) does things. Keep in mind, Chloe only supervises two shifts a week.

Yesterday Abbie confided in me about everything that had happened. Abbie wanted to make it clear that she was going to call her doctor that afternoon (yesterday) about taking sick leave because she needed time to calm down and get her head straight. Her mental health was declining. I can't blame her.

Last night I got a message from Chloe asking me to cover a shift tomorrow. Wednesday and Thursday are my days off at the moment. They're my days. The message basically read If Abbie gets a sick note, can I ask you to come in so I'm not left alone with Matt. I said no. I have plans. I'm not cancelling them. She replied with OK.

Back to this morning, I had told Anya and Polly about the message. It clicked. They wouldn't have known anything had happened yesterday unless someone had said something. I had only just arrived, so I hadn't told them because they already knew. Matt had called them this morning asking about all the whining Abbie had been doing. Well, the only other person who could have told him about Abbie's rant is the only other person sho was there: Chloe.

Why would she have asked me to cover a shift that she couldn't guarantee Abbie would be excused from? Because she was going to tell Matt about it so he could change the rota to accommodate the change.

Polly called Abbie to check in with her. As of today she is on medication. That only happened today. Chloe couldn't have known yesterday it would actually happen. She was preparing for a 50/50 chance ahead of time. She gone behind Abbie's back about her mental health to the boss. That's Abbie's business, not hers.

Abbie is now on a minimum 2 week sick leave. She sent a letter to Matt, without seeing him face to face because she can't stand to. They are a staff member down tomorrow, but I'm not cancelling my plans to cover it. These are my 2 days off during the week.

Matt apparently tried to play it off to Polly that everything he had said to Abbie (I don't know all the details there) on Wednesday was a joke. But what kind of joke has someone ending up in hospital?

Polly, knowing no one can stand Matt, and Chloe too, wants everyone to get together at some point to try and do something.

There is more regarding Matt but that doesn't directly connect to this. I feel so sorry for Abbie because none of that should have happened. I hope she takes plenty of rest. She has a 10 month year old she needs to look after. If her mental health gets worse, then what? :(

This is my work life!! Talk about the drama.

[lesbiansandgayssupporttheminers]

I'm kinda freaking out. People are talking about food not coming in. Does this mean there'll be rations on stuff? I can't see my family this year, which is just depressing. I have no clue if I'm gonna have to do my A levels exams. If they are cancelled then how will results be decided?? I've fallen off the wagon with my maths hw, will that fuck me over?? No clue if we're going back to school in the new year given how quick massive changes are being made. There's a new covid strain that's apparently more contagious!? Does this mean the vaccine will be useless now? ...It's just a lot y'know? Do you by any chance have any tips on how to calm down?

1) Most food is still able to come in at the moment- there are no restrictions on what can come across the border.

The current issue is that France have said no people (including lorry drivers) are allowed into France from the UK. Which means there are a LOT of lorries stuck in Kent with nowhere to go- which causes delays. It also means EU drivers don’t want to come over here and get stuck.

Unaccompanied freight can still come over, so AFIAK it’s mostly refrigerated lorries which are affected, and there are other routes in and out of the UK. But it will all have a knock on effect and we can probably expect to see random shortages in the shops for the next few weeks at least- not of everything but it might be e.g. no tomatoes or no cheese or whatever.

Of course, if we have No Deal Brexit, that compounds the situation, because then, in theory, we have to customs check everything that comes in. Chances are we won’t, we’ll just wave everything on through, but again, getting things back out will be an issue and EU firms will be less keen to deliver stuff to the UK.

There’s already been disruption to the supply chain due to Covid, and Christmas is a disruptive time of year anyway. Supermarkets have plans, but it’s very likely we’d have a bit of an uncomfortable time- I don’t think it would be rationing levels uncomfortable, but you might not be able to get all the food you like. Which is a major issue for people with allergies/intolerances/restricted diets, who may have a limited amount of safe food.

I don’t think we’ll see official rationing, but it might be like March/April, where supermarkets put in their own restrictions.

The major pain will be for our exporters and anyone in manufacturing who rely on certain parts being able to get through in a timely manner.

2) We’ve got no word on A-level exams - at the moment they are going ahead as normal. Last year, CAGs would take into account mock performance and your assessments in class over the year, but this year it’s likely teachers will have less data. I’d try to get back on the wagon with your homework- either way it can only help you.

3) At the moment, if you’re in Y13 and you’re in school rather than a sixth form college, you should be in school on 4th Jan or whenever term starts. Exam years are to be in as normal. I would assume that plan is going ahead until something changes- I reckon it’s unlikely they will change it again. It’s more likely other years will go on a rota or something.

4) The vaccine apparently works on the new strain- but it means all of us need to be more careful (especially teenagers who are more prone to the new strain) until we can get vaccinated.

I know it’s all super stressful, and I had a bit of a panic the other night too. If you’re feeling panicky all the time and can’t calm down, please contact your GP. It’s normal to feel anxious to some extent- this is scary stuff. But if you feel panicky for hours or days at a time, then definitely talk to a healthcare professional.

Sometimes it can help to focus on the things you can control- like doing your maths homework and wearing a mask when you go out and sticking to the rules on socialising. Sometimes it might be good to take a short break from the news- especially over Christmas.

If you are really worried, maybe talk to your parents about how you could take that first week in January off.

But feeling a bit anxious, some of the time, about a global pandemic and no deal brexit is also normal. They are both scary prospects, and it is normal to be a bit scared of them.

[opheliawritesxo]

Jefferson & Leroy Street

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Inclusive!Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes is an idiot, Y/N Stark is an idiot; Steve Rogers just wants them to kiss and make-up. So he plays matchmaker. How hard can it be to get two idiots in love? Apparently not as easy as he thinks.

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: strong language, mentions of a horrible ex, angst with a happy ending

A/N: if anyone sees this fic on AO3 don’t worry about it, it is my own work I just thought I'd change it to a reader insert.

It’d been a long day; University had been busier than normal in the lead up to exams. They just kept telling their self - one more year - when in reality they still had to find a graduate job. What can one actually do with a degree in Criminology?

Unlocking the door to the flat they shared with their two best friends, they groaned at the mess. For two super soldiers, they sure knew how to create a mess. Steve Rogers, the famous Captain America, was currently away on a mission but Bucky was still here having not been needed for this particular mission.

“You had one job dickwad! One job!” They shouted as they looked at the state of the piled-up dishes. They had a bloody rota for a reason, god they missed the days of dishwashers and living at home with their parents.

           There was silence, frowning they searched every room before finally calling to F.R.I.D.A.Y and asking where the hell was Bucky?

“I’m afraid he stepped out over an hour ago Mx Stark, I can find his location if you wish?” The Irish lilt echoed throughout the empty flat. They groaned; they didn’t want to bother him in case he’d been called on a mission.

“Nah s’alright, but thanks anyway F.R.I.D.A.Y.” A weak smile crossed their face, they might as well clean the flat whilst they waited for Bucky to arrive home.

           Bucky never arrived home that night. They waited up as long as they could after giving the flat a thorough clean but when they woke in the morning it was clear he hadn’t come home. Their keys were still in the door. Groaning as they rubbed the back of their neck having fallen asleep on the couch, they checked their phone.

No messages.

That instantly put them in a pissy mood, they were a worrier; always had been, always will be.

           They knew it was going to happen, getting distracted beyond belief at Uni. Trudging back to the flat they could smell the aromatic aroma of Italian cooking. Clumsily opening the door, their face fell a little when they noticed Steve’s shield by the door.

“Are you.. are you seriously standing here cooking in your bloody uniform?” They snorted; well at least that was a sight to brighten their day.

“I was hungry!” He whined.

“Thought you were Bucky.” They muttered, grabbing the blonde’s shield and moving it to the cupboard. It was more so they wouldn’t trip over it as they had done a hundred times before.

“Well it’s his Ma’s recipe so I can see the confusion.” He smiled giving them a kiss on the cheek as they moved within reaching distance. “How was class?”

“Oh, you know.. the usual.” Plonking themselves down at the breakfast bar in the kitchen. “Say.. you wouldn’t happen to have heard from Bucky have you?”

“Yeah, he’s at some dame’s place.. he never told you?” He frowned; they hated that frown.

“Oh yeah, shit I forgot. Of course!” They spoke quickly, they were already pissed at Bucky; it wouldn’t do for him to be ganged up by both them and Steve. “How was the mission?” Quickly and effortlessly changing the subject. Giving Steve the chance to rant about everything and anything he could reveal about the mission. While he spoke, they sent a text to Bucky.

Sent at 4:56PM

You could have told me you were going to get laid. Next time do the dishes before you go and get your dick wet. That is all.

After eating the wonderful food that Steve had prepared, how they could still fit through the door with both of them being amazing cooks they’ll never know; they headed through to their room to do some studying.

They woke up at 3am to her bedroom door being thrown open.

“Jesus Christ!” They squealed, practically falling out of bed as they watched Bucky saunter in.

“What the fuck is this?” Holding out his phone, they squinted at his phone screen being the only light source in the room. Flicking on a light they glared at him.

“It’s three in the fucking morning James, what the ever-loving fuck are you doing sauntering in here like you own the place!” They shouted; they didn’t care if they woke Steve up at this point.

“I do actually own the place..” They groaned

“It’s an expression you idiot! Can we talk about this in the morning? I don’t know why you’re pissed at me! You’re the one that didn’t tell me you were heading out and also left the flat in a god-awful state!”

“Oh, get over yourself! Why are you always so fucking clingy Y/N? It’s ridiculous!” That broke their heart, they knew they were clingy; they always had been, but Bucky had always liked it. —or so they thought.

“I was just worried about you.. I didn’t know where you were.” They muttered, feeling terribly small with the towering figure above them.

“You don’t need to know where I am every second of everyday Christ. Stop being jealous just because you haven’t been laid in months. How is Nathan anyway? Still fucking your ex best friend?” Well that was a low blow, it was clear no one anticipated the slap when it came.

“Fuck. You.” They growled, grabbing their jeans; pulling them on angrily as they moved to grab their coat.

“Y/N, darlin’ it’s late. Come on we’ll got through to my-“ Steve was interrupted by the front door slamming. “The fuck Buck?” He said turning to his best friend.

“Don’t Steve.. just don’t.” The former asset muttered as he moved through to his room, slamming the bedroom door shut.

“Fucking hell..” Steve muttered, rubbing his hands over his face. “F.R.I.D.A.Y, please track them and let me know the minute something isn’t right okay?”

           When they arrived back at the flat four hours later, Steve was already opening the door to her before they could even get their hand on the handle.

“Bloody intelligent busy body in the ceiling.” They muttered to herself as they trudged in. Toeing off their shoes, they headed to their bedroom but were stopped by the ever-righteous grandpa.

“We need to talk about last night.” Steve’s voice was soft, but it held a commanding edge to it, they couldn’t be fucked with that in that moment.

“No, we don’t, Barnes made everything crystal clear. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have class in an hour and a half.” They grunted, hands on his chest to push him out of the way.

“Y/N.. he was- “

“If drunk is about to come out of your mouth I’m whacking you with your own shield. He can’t get drunk; well all know that so why don’t you stop coming up with excuses for his behaviour and just ‘get over yourself’ like I’m doing huh?” Expression blank, but the tears that were starting to well in their eyes were clear for anyone close enough to see.

“You went to Nathan’s.. Y/N, that’s not.. we talked about this. You were doing so well.” He whispered, holding onto their upper arms to keep them in place.

“I waited Steve, I did what you said, and I waited for him to come around. Every-time I tried to make the first move it didn’t work. Bucky doesn’t want me; I’ve accepted that now.. maybe it’s time you do too. Matchmaker isn’t really your biggest strength.” A weak smile on their face as they finally pushed their way out of his grasp.

Heading down the corridor she saw Bucky’s door slowly close, he’d obviously been listening in. Typical. Rolling their eyes, they headed into the bathroom, slamming the door behind them.

           It had been a week since the incident. Both Bucky and Y/N hadn’t left the flat which was more concerning on Y/N’s behalf due to the fact they’d missed a whole week of University. The final straw was when Tony cornered Steve after a briefing asking why he’d gotten an email from the University saying his child hadn’t been attending classes.

He hated being cornered by a protective Tony, especially since they were tentatively trying to build a relationship together. Totally hush hush at the moment; only the two of them aware. Stomping into Y/N’s room he frowned when he saw them staring into space.

“Enough. Get dressed and get the fuck out of here for a couple of hours. Please I’m literally begging you. You’re both driving me up the wall.” It took a couple of seconds for Y/N to grasp that Steve was in the room speaking to them.

“And where exactly do you want me to go?” They mumbled into their duvet.

“Anywhere that isn’t Nathan’s or somewhere dangerous.” Going into their wardrobe he started throwing clothes at them. “If you’re not ready in ten I will barge right back in here you hear?”

“Jesus Steve.. I’m going, Christ.” She muttered, shooing him out the door so they could get ready. Maybe a night out would be nice, they could go for a couple of drinks.

           When they finished getting ready, they side-stepped Steve before they collided with him. Sending a mock salute his way they grabbed their shoes and headed out the door. There were a few bars within walking distance, so they ended up at the first one on their path. Slipping inside they sat themselves down at the bar, ordering a whiskey neat.

“Well, well, well look what the cat dragged in” Mouthing a ‘fuck’ into their drink they turned to see Nathan.

“What do you want?” They grumbled, arms crossing over their chest. He scoffed.

“I can’t believe I don’t even get a hello when I so kindly let you sleep on my couch last week. Didn’t even get a thank you.” Rolling their eyes at him.

“I’m pretty sure letting me crash on your couch is the least you could do after ruining three years of a relationship by shagging Caitlin.”

“I was expecting at least some thank you head, but you never were one to give, were you? Always take, take, take.” He purred; they could smell the booze off him as he made himself at home in their personal space.

“Fuck off Nathan, I’m not in the mood tonight.”

“When were you ever in the mood, I’m sure I can get you there though. Always knew your-“ He didn’t get to finish his sentence as a metal arm had him lifted halfway off the ground. They couldn’t help but snort at the fear in Nathan’s eyes.

“Want to finish that sentence?” Bucky growled. They couldn’t help but bite their lip, they’d always had a thing for pissed Bucky; as long as it wasn’t aimed at them but then again. A hand on their arm snapped them out of their daydream. “We’re going for a walk.” His hand slipping into theirs as he dragged them out the bar.

“Oh, we are, are we?” They muttered; the silence grew between them as they walked down the block. “Thanks.. for that back there. I- I didn’t sleep with him by the way. Just crashed on his couch.” They admitted. “I’m an idiot, but I’m not stupid.”

“No one said you were.” They pulled on his hand as they got to a bench, pulling him down to sit next to them.

“I am. I’m sorry about the text.. I was just so worried. You know what I’m like, the world’s worst over-thinker.” Bucky groaned, running a hand over the back of his neck.

“I’ve been a prick.” He grunted, looking at them with sad eyes. “Do you remember the night you caught Nathan?”

Frowning they tried to remember what happened. “You took me to that club? You said something like ‘it’s more or a distraction for me so I don’t rip the bastards throat out?’ Or something along those lines?” He chuckled softly; their heart stopped for a moment — god they’d missed that sound.

“Yeah that’s right, you then proceeded to get fucking drunk off your ass and you said you can’t remember anything else from that night?” They shook their head.

“Nah, I’m pretty sure that was it.”

“Well.. I’m gonna remind you of something right now just.. bear with me.” He mumbled, cupping their chin in his hand; he kissed them. Right there, on the corner of Jefferson and Leroy street. Their hands moved to clutch at his shirt, hazy memories filtering in. Loud music, colour, Bucky, heat, cool metal wrapped around them, Bucky, hands in silk strands, the taste of whiskey and something ultimately Bucky.

“Fuck I kissed you, in the middle of the dance floor..” They whispered as they pulled back, fingers moving to press lightly against their lips. They couldn’t believe she forgot.

“There’s an endless number of things that I wish I could forget darlin’, but I couldn’t forget that. Played in my mind for days. I realised quite quickly you didn’t remember it and you were still getting over him. Then you started to flirt with me and I just; I couldn’t take it.” Their heart was breaking.

“Buck.. I’m so sorry!” They croaked, taking both his hands in theirs; thumb stroking over the back of the smooth metal. “If I’d remembered I would’ve- “

“Thought I was gonna be your rebound or somethin’ and I couldn’t deal. Pretty sure you engrained yourself in my very soul from the day I met your cocky little ass.” His eyes were glued to the ground, but they weren’t having it. Grabbing his face in their hands.

“You never would’ve been a re-bound for my James. You understand me? I’ve loved you from the minute I met you. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you, I’m hopelessly, utterly-“ They hated being interrupted but they were pretty sure they could make an exception for Bucky’s lips on theirs. It was softer than they remembered, like they were something precious. That’s when the tears started to fall —no one had ever treated them like that before, like they were something to cherish.

“M’not good with feelings and emotions, life ain’t been too kind to me but I know that I love you and I want you. Every part of you. So m’gonna say it now. You’re mine, you’ll always be mine. Even if we can’t be together; you’ll always be engrained in-“ It was their turn to cut him off, kissing him hard; throwing their very soul into the kiss.

“I’m yours Buck, forever and always I’m yours.” They whispered. Chuckling softly, he brushed the tears from their face.

“That’s what I was hoping you were gonna say.” There on the corner of Jefferson and Leroy, two idiots finally got their happy ending. If Steve looked extra smug the next day; Tony would think it was because of him but in reality, it was because of the two thank you texts he’d received from the two idiots. His two favourite idiots.

[thedistantstorm]

Come Together 06

Fandom: Destiny

Pairing: Devrim Kay/Marc

Warnings: less smut, angst, homophobia, domestic violence (mentioned) I’m so sorry guys, there is some actual plot happening and I’m cruel.

“A young city planner set his eyes on an older militiaman. He was unkempt and terribly forward. The militiaman had class. He wasn’t interested.”

“Clearly,” Marc tells their friends. “That’s why they decided to get married.”

(A story told in bits and pieces.)

Chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05

-/

Their first fight comes five months into their relationship. And unlike previous relationships and partners past, it’s not some meaningless lovers quarrel over who’s turn it was to do something or plan a date.

It was bound to happen eventually: Marc’s mother running into them on the street, in the market, bright and early one Saturday morning. This had slowly become part of their weekly routine, heading down from one of their places, getting groceries and produce, and then cooking together in the evening.

But Marc had made a fatal error, withdrawing from Devrim’s arm as though he had the plague, introducing his mother, Esther, to Devrim. Introducing Devrim to her - as one of his good friends. Devrim was certainly cordial, very much his usual brand of polite and charismatic, and the conversation itself went off without a hitch. Well, almost.

“And your lady friend? Margaret, you said?”

“Oh,” Marc answered, his willing his face to remain neutral before sighing, lying through his teeth, “Yeah. She’s great. We’re very happy together.”

“You’ll have to bring her to dinner. We haven’t seen her in forever.”

“Her work keeps her away, as I’ve told you. She’s always so busy, I hardly get to see her, myself.” Panic lances through him, but it’s not himself he’s worried about.

His lies cut through Devrim far sharper than any knife.

“Pardon my interruption, but I believe I’ve forgotten a prior engagement,” Devrim had lied, excusing himself just as Marc’s mother - a similarly bronze skinned woman with long, sun-kissed hair - was chastising her boy for not calling home as much as she liked, “You’ll have to excuse me,” He’d said, handing Marc their groceries. 

Marc looked at him in mounting concern, but Devrim’s eyes were dark. Closed off. If he knew Devrim was furious, he didn’t let on, only nodding at key points in his mother’s monologue, watching his partner’s back as he walked briskly down the street.

The very moment his mother let him off - on the promise that he’d call sometime during the week, he all but ran back to Devrim’s flat. The door was unlocked. Perhaps it wasn’t-

His overnight bag was packed and sitting in the doorway. Devrim would even not look at him, his eyes gazing at the wall across from his couch, hands shaking, wrapped around a mug of tea. 

“Take your things and leave.”

“It’s not-”

“Now.”

-/

Devrim isn't at his post the following Monday. All of Marc's messages go unanswered. He needed to see him face-to-face. This wasn't a conversation - a situation to explain over messaging. 

He knew it was doubtful that Dev would be in their usual booth during their lunch hour, yet he still makes a point to look anyway. He checks the entire seating area to make sure that his sniper isn't sitting elsewhere, trying to throw him off. Devrim isn't. Marc will have to try again tomorrow.

By Wednesday, he goes to Devrim’s flat. Stands there for over an hour, like an idiot, knocking every so often. He doesn’t hear any sound inside, and resolves that he must not be in there. Which is strange. Devrim is always home on Wednesday nights. They show some history special he adores - Marc has taken to falling asleep against him while he gushes about Golden Age pyrotechnics and battle strategies.

By Thursday, he’s brave enough to approach the Militia officer who always stands opposite of Devrim in the mornings. Before he can get a word out, she smiles apologetically. “Devrim asked me not to speak with you if you came looking for him,” She informs him tightly.

“Is he alright?”

“I really shouldn’t say.”

“I did something stupid. He must think-” Marc shakes his head. “I’m awful. I just… even if he’s done with me, I want to explain.”

The woman looks him over carefully. “Wait. You did something?”

“I-I’m sorry?” Marc tilts his head, eyebrows knitting closer in his confusion. He composes himself. “Yes. I was an idiot. I handled a situation very poorly.”

“Wow. Uh, okay.” The militia-woman adjusts her hat, tucking a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear. “Honestly, I thought he broke up with you.”

“What?” That makes his heart leap into his throat like nothing else. Certainly he considered it a rather heavy possibility, and really, this whole thing could have been avoided if he’d just told Devrim. But until he had the opportunity to explain himself, he was desperately trying to pretend like that wasn’t the most likely outcome of the situation. For his own sanity.

The woman rambles on, ignorant of his internal struggle. “Well, I mean, you’re getting to the whole committed stage. Devrim doesn’t do commitment. Nothing ever hurts him. He just doesn’t get that attached, y’know? It’s weird for a guy so polite, but I guess that’s why he’s always so mellow.” She waves a hand. “Anyway. This changes things. Maybe he’ll actually get his act together and want to marry you.”

“We’ve only been seeing each other for a couple of months!” Marc exclaims. He’s relatively certain the higher possibility lies with him being excommunicated than marriage at this rate.

The woman pats his shoulder, laughing nervously. “Shh, keep it down! Look, my CO would be pissed if he saw me talking to you. Just… meet me at the combini at noon, okay? I know where he is.”

Marc nods. “Okay,” He says. “I-” He sighs. “Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Seriously. Dev will be sooo mad at me.”

-/

Marc has met Devrim's partner for Tower patrol duty before. Zara is a bit brash, talks before she thinks, but really does mean well. Devrim is fond of her in the way one was of a little sister. She dips into the chair across from Marc as though she's in a hurry. 

"Here's the deal. He showed up Monday and volunteered for an assignment. They sent him out on the first rover headed for Old Russia. I didn't even know they sent us there, but apparently this was some Vanguard assistance thing. He'll be back tomorrow morning." She pauses. "Running away is kind of his thing. Man's afraid of his own feelings, I think." 

She pulls a drink from her pack, and Marc pushes his container of fries closer to the center of the table. She shoves a few in her mouth around saying, "Look. Usually I'm sitting here with him, telling him he should be talking through his breakups. My track record is way worse than his and I actually want to settle down. Anyway," She flops a fry in her hand, conversationally, "Usually he's the one who messes up. Forgets a date on purpose, then sends you a breakup message so polite you're thanking him before you know he's left you in the dirt. It's savage."

"But that's not what happened."

"Yeah," Zara says. "So what did happen?"

"My mother." He sighs, continuing before he loses his nerve. "She's not… she doesn't know I'm attracted to men."

"Exclusively?"

He rubs his left temple, hazel eyes tired and red. "Does it matter?" He sighs. "I introduced Devrim as a friend."

Her jaw hangs. "Shut up."

"What?"

"He did that to the last guy he was with. Or maybe the one before that? I can't remember. Wow, karma is a bitch." Zara leans back, watching Marc's expression sober. "Sorry, sorry, continue."

"My parents think I'm seeing this woman named Margaret. It's just… better, that way. Keeps Mother from nosing around in my business, makes her and my father think I'm on the straight and narrow.

"No." Zara looks at him, like there's something on his face. Staring almost hard enough that it hurts. "Oh. My. Light."

"Yeah."

"So he thinks-"

"Yeah."

"I gotta hand it to you. You really fucked this up."

"Definitely. I think he's gonna dump me."

"I wouldn't be so sure." She examines a fry before popping it in her mouth. "He's got no problem sending a breakup message." She doesn't explain the part where he'd seemed almost desperate to get sent out on an op, or the way his usual neutral, polite expression was saddened and not even the squad's teasing could cheer him up. "I think he needs some space to figure himself out. And I think you need to figure out your next step."

"Next step?"

"You gonna let your folks think you're seeing a woman named Margerie?"

It's Margaret, but Marc doesn't bother correcting her. He gets the point. "I mean-"

"Let's assume it goes well: you explain, Dev forgives, yada yada. You gonna live like this forever?" Her expression turns soft. "I wouldn't think you're here because you want to see it end."

"I'm not."

She smiles. "Good. Devrim will be back tomorrow before noon. He has afternoon rota with me. I'd try and catch him afterwards." She probably pulls the container over to herself, picks it up, and slides out of the booth. "Thanks for the fries."

Marc nods. Normally he'd be upset, but he'd hardly had any himself. Surely Zara can see the gears turning in his brain.

-/

Devrim spends his week doing what he knows best: fieldwork. Assisting Guardians in translating and understanding Fallen transmissions, using those to determine and rig their bases for detonation. Sniping the stragglers from afar while the Guardians dance about like elegant death - and dancing - machines.

He keeps busy. It helps clear his mind. Helps him re-establish his footing. Gives him time to analyze without obsessing. Not that he's obsessing, no. He's not that type, but… If it were really bothering him that much.

Which, it clearly is, as much as he'd like to admit otherwise. It's not until the convoy is on it's day-long expedition home that he lets himself think about what he knows from Marc's conversation with his mother.

At the time, all he'd been able to think about was this other person she'd mentioned, vehemently trying to ramp down the hurt at not being introduced as his partner, which-

Really, that was a whole other thing entirely, and Devrim had already laid awake at night plenty thinking about why that bothered him so. He might be fussy about entering relationships, and selective about who he keeps around, but he's not the type to fall in love. He's kind and doting, sure, but when it comes to forever he's paralyzed, afraid of making an irreversible, incorrect choice.

And yet, he was unmistakably hurt when Marc didn't tell his mother they were together. Normally, it would be a win-win. This was… 

Right. Getting his brain back on track, he thinks back to the conversation. All of Marc's cues, his body language. They were easily discernible as someone trying to cover up a lie, and no doubt, Marc was lying, but the lie itself was up for debate.

And now that he wasn't so livid he thought he'd scream, he supposed they needed to talk.

-/

A hand grabs him as he's headed into work. He's late, but it's better than nothing. "No. Oh no you don't. You look like you're going to keel over. Sit down."

A half-drank cup of coffee is pressed into his hands, and his rear immediately feels the cold of the concrete sinking in. He sighs, feeling his chest rattle with it.

"What happened?"

He doesn't answer that, instead asking, "Won't the squad be mad if they see me talking to you?"

"Whatever. I'm not wearing yesterday's clothes and look like I'm having an allergic reaction." She looks around. The man who stands opposite her and isn't Devrim shakes his head. "Zara, you know how you never understand why you get in trouble?"

"Can't leave someone who needs help. You know me," She grins, shrugging. "Not my style."

He looks up into deep brown eyes, flecked amber in concern. "I'm fine."

"Right, and I'm Ikora Rey."

"She's a Warlock, and I've never seen you both in the same place. Might be true," Comes the call of the other militiaman.

"Ha ha, Mitchell." She rolls her eyes, crouching down in front of Marc, so they're closer, whispering, "You've been crying. What happened?"

"I told my folks."

She rises, swift and serious. "I'm taking my lunch early," She announces. "Cover me."

"Zar-"

"I know, I know.  I'll owe you one." She winks.

-/

It takes the younger patrolwoman until the end of the day to talk to him. She's surprisingly attentive to her duty instead of mouthing off at him and chattering about every new weapon released by the bigger foundries. She caves though, like a guilty child, eventually holding his gaze.

"You're gonna be pissed at me," Zara says.

The brim of his uniform hat makes his eyes look exceptionally blue. He narrows them at her and she squirms. "I take it you've meddled while I was away?"

"Uh, a bit," The female officer admits, nervously.

"You're uncomfortable. How much is a bit, exactly?"

"A bit," She grits back, before looking him dead in the eyes. "How much do you like him?"

"A bit," He quips, unable to tell if there’s a tease in there or if she’s being serious. She’s acting suspiciously.

Crossing her arms, she asks, "Even though he lied to his mother?"

Serious, then. He adopts a warning tone. "Zara-"

She interrupts. "Answer the question. If you thought he cheated on you, this would have been cut and dry."

He waits for passers by to be out of earshot before answering, "Why does it sound like you're on his side?"

"Okay. First of all, I didn't think he was going to listen to me. But apparently he's serious about you. So if you're not serious about him, I want to know so I can do damage control."

"Come out with it," Devrim snaps, a sinking feeling in his gut. "What did you do?"

"We talked. He explained what had happened, that his folks aren't exactly… let's say kosher with him being interested in men. I might have said something about how if he wanted to be serious with you, that meant embracing it, even if they'd be unhappy."

His jaw tics. "And?"

"Yeah." She makes a concerning face. "Wasn't kosher at all." Zara looks up at him. "They, weren't good to him. He said he knew it wouldn't go well, but he didn't think they'd be so extreme."

"Extreme, how?"

"Whoa, whoa, calm down, Kay. I can feel the murderous rampage-"

He crosses the cobblestone walkway, to be at a more conversational distance apart. She almost wishes he’d stay back, because him yelling is far less intense than the drop in his tone and his focused attention. "I will not. Explain yourself."

"I took my break early. Walked him to his flat for some clothes, then dropped him off at mine. Everything's wrecked. He called them last night, it went south, they invited themselves over. He'd left when they started throwing things and having a tantrum. Really childish of them, if you ask me."

His hands find her shoulders, decorum the only thing preventing him from shaking her. "Tell me he's unharmed."

Zara pats his scruffy cheek. "You do have it bad," She marvels. "Physically, he's fine."

[isitgintimeyet]

The Ties That Bind

AO3

Previous

Thanks for reading so far. Hope you enjoy this chapter.

Thanks to @mo-nighean-rouge for the beta and support.

The first part of this chapter was written in a spirit of lighthearted frustration, in the run up to Christmas, as I marvelled at my husband’s (and many other men’s) ability to take no responsibility for family gift buying at Christmas, devolving it to his long suffering spouse (i.e.me “But you’re so much better at it than me!”). As my daughter says, it’s fun to see the look of surprise on her dad’s face as she opens her presents from ‘mum and dad’.

Chapter 26: A Grinchless Christmas

Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn't before! What if Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from a store. What if Christmas… perhaps… means a little bit more! ― Dr. Seuss, How the Grinch Stole Christmas

Three days before Christmas Day and Claire had officially started her holiday. Much to the amazement of many of her colleagues who couldn’t quite believe that this year, there would be no Miss Beauchamp to cover gaps in the rota or deal with unscheduled emergencies. She had made it clear that she would be absolutely unreachable.

Claire filled two mugs with fresh coffee and placed them next to two of Mrs. Crook’s homemade mince pies on the serving tray. She hesitated before adding a third pie and went to join Jamie in the conservatory.

Snuggling next to Jamie, Claire sipped her coffee and gazed out of the wall of glass. The garden was blanketed with a heavy frost, glittering in the winter sun. Snow hadn’t reached this far south yet, but they had been assured, or warned, depending on one’s viewpoint, that there was already “a wee smatterin’” on the hills around Lallybroch.

Claire stretched contentedly. Ahead of her laid two whole weeks, the longest break she’d ever taken from the hospital. Her Christmas shopping was complete, her clothes sorted for the festive season at Lallybroch. All she had to do one pick up one present for Jamie and she was done.

The chirp of Jamie’s phone announced a text. He finished chewing his second mince pie as he read.

“Christ. Season of goodwill and all that but I could do wi’out this.”

“Is there a problem?” Claire asked, worried.

“Nah, just the usual. Geneva wants tae pop round, her words no’ mine, this evening tae give me ma present. Ye’ll be here, won’t ye, Sassenach?”

“If you want me to, of course. Have you got her a present?”

“God, no. Didna think it would be a good idea. I have some boxes of biscuits left over from work. I can give her one of them.”

“James Fraser, we may not be fond of the woman, but she is the mother of your child. You can’t give her biscuits. That’s for work colleagues and elderly neighbours. Besides, I don’t think she’d even touch them unless they were Fortnum and Mason’s at the very least!” Claire playfully punched Jamie’s shoulder

With quick reflexes, Jamie grabbed Claire’s fist and brought it to his lips.

“Sassenach?” He whispered.

Claire sighed and waited. She knew exactly where this conversation was going.

Encouraged by her silence, Jamie continued. “Ye’re headin’ intae the shops this morning, are ye no’? D’ye think ye could buy something… er… suitable for her?”

“Suitable? And what do you think is suitable for a woman who’s been trying to steal you away from me for months? I know what I’d like to give her…”

“Please, Sassenach. Just dinna get her anything too personal, no smelly stuff, nothing like that.” Jamie made pleading, puppy dog eyes at Claire. “Ye’ll ken what tae get her. Ye’re much better than me. Look at all the lovely stuff ye’ve bought Maggie. I couldna have chosen any of that…”

“Enough.” Claire cut his pleading short. “Spare me the helpless man routine. I’ll do it. But only because I love you.”

Jamie smiled and, rising, pulled Claire to her feet. He kissed her soundly on the lips while fondling her bottom. “Alright, so, d’ ye want me tae drop ye off at the shops on ma way tae the gym?”

************

The initial agreement, made several weeks before, had been not to bother with Christmas decorations at either Jamie’s house or Claire’s flat, since they would be spending a lot of the holiday season at Lallybroch. They both confirmed this was a logical decision, as there would be plenty of time in the future for all that.

First it was a pair of candle holders, that Claire noticed during her shopping. Clear glass beakers with frosted pine trees etched all around. Subtle, they agreed, but with scented candles would provide enough Christmas ambience for the house. Next it was a wicker reindeer that Jamie spotted on his way to a meeting. Then quickly followed the baskets of pine cones, wreaths of holly and berries and a carved wooden nativity scene. By the time Jamie arrived home with a large Norwegian spruce tied to the roof of his car, they both realised that they should give in and fully embrace the Christmas decorations. So, they spent the next weekend wandering the Christmas markets, drinking too much mulled wine and buying ornaments and lights for the tree.

And now, as Claire looked round the living room, she was thankful that they had ignored logic and dived right into Christmas. Feeling nicely full from Mrs. Crook’s beef stew, all she wanted to do was snuggle on the sofa with Jamie, watch a bit of festive television and maybe have a whisky mac or two. As it was she was sitting literally on the edge of her seat, listening out for the doorbell and Geneva.

Finally, the doorbell rang. Her stomach filled with butterflies as she heard Jamie’s footsteps in the hall and the door open.

Geneva strode into the room. Now in her seventh month of pregnancy, she still managed to exude an air of glamour, dressed in a simple black tube dress with a scarf draped across her shoulders and, as Claire had suspected, a very neat baby bump.

She seemed momentarily surprised by the sight of Claire, but quickly recovered. “Claire,” she drawled. “How lovely to see you.”

The look in her eyes said just the opposite.

Jamie hovered in the doorway unsure what to do before realising his duties as host. “Geneva, would ye like a drink? We have some soft drinks if ye’re interested.”

“No, thanks. I can’t stop.” She eyed Claire coldly. “Just wanted to give you your present and see what you were doing for the holidays. I suppose it’s a busy time of year for you, Claire, at the hospital. Too much alcohol and icy pavements will keep you occupied, I’m sure.”

Jamie moved to Claire’s side. She felt his reassuring warmth next to her. “Actually, Geneva, Claire’s no’ at the hospital fer two weeks. We’re headin’ up tae Lallybroch fer Christmas and Hogmanay.”

“Oh, well that answers my next question. I’m off to Mummy’s for Christmas, but was planning on having a New Year’s Eve party up here. Wondered if you wanted to come… er... both of you?”

Despite the invitation being extended to both of them, Claire recognised that in Geneva’s eyes, she was the unwelcome and unnecessary tag along. She smiled sweetly, her smile as insincere as Geneva’s words.

“Sorry Geneva, we canna come. Thanks for the offer, though… anyway, how are ye, and the bairn?”

“Yes, we’re fine… Merry Christmas, Jamie.” She handed him a large gift bag.

“Thanks. And jes’ a wee gift from us.” Jamie picked up the beautifully store-wrapped picture frame Claire had bought earlier and passed it to Geneva.

“Jamie, would you mind opening it now, please? Just need to check something.”

Jamie shrugged and dived into the bag, his hands delving through layers of tissue paper, and pulled out a midnight blue linen shirt.

“Ach, ‘tis verra fine. Thank ye.”

“No, hold it up against you. I need to see if I have the right size. It’s been a while…”

Reluctantly, Jamie unfolded the shirt and held it against his chest. “Aye, it fits fine.”

Geneva reached out to try to smooth a crease against Jamie's chest  as he quickly folded the shirt roughly and dropped it on the coffee table. Claire openly looked at Geneva in amazement. There was no point in faking sincerity or subtlety. Geneva was being as subtle as a sledgehammer, and was now seemingly oblivious to Claire’s presence.

It was as if, Claire thought, Geneva viewed this as a competition with Jamie as the prize. Well, Claire was not going to compete. She knew it was Jamie's decision and he had made it.

Suddenly, Geneva winced, placing her hand on her belly. She reached over to try to take Jamie’s hand. Claire felt her stomach lurch, seeds of self-doubt beginning to spring up in her mind. Jamie moved his hand abruptly away from Geneva’s and looked across at Claire. Geneva, ignoring Jamie’s snub, rubbed her bump.

Still trying to remain polite, Jamie edged towards the door. “Weel, er… Merry Christmas tae ye, Geneva.”

“Yes, Merry Christmas to you too, Jamie.” Geneva smiled warmly at Jamie, the smile cooling considerably as she turned to Claire.“... … Claire.”

Message apparently received, Geneva made her farewells and left. Claire settled on the sofa as Jamie pottered in the kitchen, returning with two Whisky Macs and a dish of peanuts.

He handed her a glass. “Reckon ye could do wi’ one, Sassenach. Ye’re thinkin’ sae hard I could hear ye in the kitchen. Talk tae me.”

“That shirt, Jamie, the one that’s currently in a heap on the table. That’s Turnbull and Asser… linen… that could easily have cost a couple of hundred pounds.”

“Am I no’ worth it? Is that what ye’re sayin’?” Jamie joked.

“I thought Geneva was treating this as a competition.” Claire ignored his interruption and continued. “Her against me with you as the prize. But then I just realised, that’s not her plan. She’s not trying to get you to leave me. I think it was me she was targeting tonight. She wants me to leave you. If she makes it as uncomfortable as possible for me in this relationship, she thinks I will go. And then perhaps you’ll fall into her comforting arms and that’s her goal. But she underestimates me.”

Claire paused and sipped her drink. “Now, I know there are uncomfortable bits in this relationship and things we need to adapt and get used to. But I’m not going anywhere, James Fraser!”

“And Sassenach, neither am I.”

Claire relaxed against Jamie, her head nestled against his chest. Kissing the top of her head, Jamie picked up the tv remote control and began to flick through the channels

“Enough tension tonight. Let’s have some Christmas entertainment and no’ think about that woman any more… Ah, Love Actually...”

“I love this film. But, I’m warning you, it makes me cry. I mean real, ugly cry.”

Jamie turned Claire’s face to his. “‘Then ‘tis jes’ as well I’m no’ wearing that fancy, expensive shirt, with all the snot there may be around.”

His lips lightly kissed her forehead and nose before reaching her lips. Gently, his index finger traced the same path. Suddenly serious, he continued “Claire, I ken, these last few months with me have no’ been the easiest fer ye and I’ve given ye cause to shed a fair few tears. And fer that I am truly sorry. I dinna ever want ever tae make ye cry… but I do. I love ye and I sometimes wonder how ye've stuck by me through all this. Ye're a rare woman… I’m no’ sure what I've done tae deserve ye.”

“Or,” he added with a wry smile. “What ye’ve done tae deserve me.”

Claire returned his smile. “I ask myself that all the time. My plans for a fling with no complications didn’t exactly work out, did they?”

She rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady pounding of his heart. Her fingers worked their way between his shirt buttons and idly played with the copper hairs. She thought for a moment, before speaking.  “Honestly, sometimes, you’re right it’s not easy. When I see the way she looks at you, or rubs her bump, it hurts. I don’t like to admit that, but it does... But that feeling, that hurt, isn’t there all the time, it passes. The feeling that stays with me all the time is how you make me feel. And I don’t want to not have that in my life. I know, even with all these complications, I would still make the same choice. And, I remind myself, it’s Geneva who looks at you that way, not you looking at Geneva… and it’s Geneva who, despite all her trying and games, still goes home alone... Just, please, no more complications.”

Jamie kissed the top of her head. “Aye, Sassenach, I promise. And now, let’s watch the film, and ye can ugly cry tae yer heart’s content.”

[queenzufufu]

Youngsters (8/?)

Summary: For the kids at The Rooster teeth care home, life hasn’t always been easy. They’ve come from broken homes, broken families. They’ve escaped with broken bones and broken spirits. But at least now they have a second chance to be happy with a real family.

Well…that’s easier said than done when your family includes a hyperactive midget, an over eager wrestling fanatic and a boy who just can’t go a day without punching something…or someone.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 AO3

“You never act out. You positively explode.” - Burnie

“What about going to the movies?”

“No.”

“What about paintball?”

“No.

“What about a pool party?”

“Do I look six years old?”

Burnie shrugged and pulled a pleading face at Ryan. Alright, alright, no, he did not look six years old.

In fact, Ryan would be turning sixteen in four days. Burnie would say that time had flown by but honestly at times he felt as if he’d known the boy his whole life. It wasn’t unusual to feel that way for a lot of the kids. He put so much of his own time and energy into giving them the best care possible, they had taken over almost every aspect of his existence. Ryan may have only been with them for little under two years but in that short time Burnie had seen him grow and change into the young man he was today.

Even so, the first day, as they always were, was still a perfectly clear memory in his mind. There had been nothing remarkable about Ryan at first glance. Nothing to say he was different from any other child. And unlike most of the others, he had been lean rather than thin when he’d arrived. Rooster Teeth had been his first placement - minus the emergency one he had been placed in for three weeks while social services scrambled to find a long term placement for yet another teenager.

Sullen, as most newcomers were, but Burnie had seen intelligence in his sky blue eyes. Angry too, but that was more than expected and understandable. The boy’s older brother and only living relative had recently died after all.

Once the social worker had introduced him and left the two alone, Burnie asked him the same question he always asked new children.

“What would you like to happen now?”

Usually, the kids would say something harsh in response, something to tell Burnie that they didn’t want to be there and resented being sent.

Ryan had thought about the question.

He skipped the usual instant responses - “I want to go home,” some would plea, or “Whatever, I don’t have a choice,” from the more hardened veterans of the system. And a few times, Burnie had simply been told to “Go fuck yourself.”

Ryan had answered slowly, and he answered the question he knew was intended to test their limits, not settling for the easy, defiant answer. “My old life ended. So I suppose I need to start a new one here.”

Burnie was both delighted and saddened by the answer, though he didn’t let it show. It was great that Ryan seemed so settled with the idea of coming into care, but the wise, incredibly jaded response was not necessarily what he wanted to hear from a fourteen-year-old who’d lost so much. Ryan’s apparent chilled out attitude was a breath of fresh air, but it was tinged with something putrid.

Nevertheless, he had taken Ryan by the shoulder and lead him into the main living room to meet some of the other kids Gus had already assembled there to allow more introductions to be made.

No sparks had lit the air when Geoff and Ryan met. The older boy was easy going and full of mischief, while Ryan was solemn and thoughtful, and they gave each other a searching look that the kids always gave when meeting a newcomer of a similar age, and Geoff stuck out his hand.

Ryan had regarded the open palm with a slight air of suspicion, like he could already see the inner workings of Geoff’s mind and the ways the older boy would continuously find new and inventive ways to annoy him.

At the time though, he had nothing to back up these theories, and the two politely shook for the first - and last - time.

Burnie knew, with all the chaos that came with looking after the kids, and all the trouble they could both intentionally and unintentionally cause, that he sometimes took Ryan’s laidback attitude for granted. Because Ryan, prone to moments of anger as he was, had always given the carers the impression that he could raise himself - that he was grateful for the roof over his head and the clothes, food and other basic amenities he was provided with, but ultimately if he had no other choice, he could do it all on his own.

Maybe, if he’d been less experienced in his line of work, Burnie might’ve mistaken that matureness as a sign he could always leave Ryan to his own devices. But, despite sometimes being a little too thankful Ryan was off minding his own business and not causing any trouble, he kept tabs on the kid as much as any of the others.

There were three main worries that always came to mind with Ryan. One: sleep - the boy didn’t get nearly enough thanks to his insomnia, which was an ongoing battle triggered by the most traumatic moment of the boy’s life. Two: his angry outbursts - while less frequent and considerably less violent than they used to be, he still seemed to be triggered by the most minor of things, petty arguments and nuisances. And three: sometimes Burnie just felt the kid was too much of a loner - that he understood everybody had different levels of tolerance for other human beings but, with Ryan, he could happily hole himself up in his own room for days on end if food and drink were supplied directly to him… which they weren’t. Food and drink were often Burnie’s only leverage to get Ryan to come out and join the living world if he was in one of his really antisocial moods.

So, yes, in comparison to some of the other kids, these worries could be deemed minor in comparison. Burnie, however, had learned no kid was the same. That if Ryan went without enough sleep for too long he was prone to be disruptive in class. That his angry outbursts, while seemingly pointless and occurring for no reason to some people, most likely came for a real place or hurt or frustration. And his antisocial tendencies… Ryan could get scared. Getting close to people could hurt, Ryan knew that very well. Having people you thought you could always rely on to be there for you was dangerous when one bar fight gone wrong could wrench them painfully out of your life.

So he kept an eye on Ryan, like he did with all his kids, although sometimes he felt as if he needed to be some all-seeing, all-knowing God to be able to keep tracks on all of them at all times. He supposed that’s why he hired the most competent staff he could find. And Gus.

“C’mon, you must have some ideas,” he pestered Ryan, hoping to at least get some inkling about what Ryan would like to do.

Ryan threw back his head, groaning too. He was really getting fed up with Burnie’s questions.

“Not really. I’ll just go round Jake’s like normal and we’ll chill. I don’t want to do anything special.”

“Well, it is up to you but let me know if you change your mind,” Burnie insisted, not so quick to give up. “And we’re gonna have to do something at the house even if it’s for the benefit of the youngsters.”

Ryan bit his lip, fighting back a grimace. “Only if you don’t turn out all the lights and sing Happy Birthday to me.”

“Sorry Ryan, I’m afraid no promises can be made on that front,” Burnie said. It was part of his duty as head carer that he makes sure all birthdays were celebrated properly, including the embarrassing family sing-a-long part that most teenagers detested.

Turning a corner into an even more crowded street, Burnie felt his heart leap as he realized he hadn’t done his routine check recently. He spun around quickly, eyes darting around the area, trying to locate one face in particular. “Lawrence? Where’ve you gone?” he called out, perhaps slightly more panicked than he would have liked - I’m a constant presence of calm and composure, I’m a constant presence of calm and composure, I’m a -

The boy abruptly walked into him a few seconds after his shouts, glaring up at Burnie’s suddenly stopped figure. “I’m here, idiot.”

Relief washed over Burnie as he smiled ruefully down at the boy and the utterly unimpressed expression he was giving him. He’d gotten so used to Lawrence dawdling behind or wandering off into random crowds or stores, that he had failed to notice that the boy was literally right behind him. “Oh, sorry, didn’t see you down there.”

Lawrence craned his neck back to glare up at him, putting up his hood again as it fell off his head. “Calling me short?” he challenged.

Burnie regarded him. Judging the pale green eyes to see if it was anger or mischief that filled them more. “Yes. Yes, I am,” he said when he decided that Lawrence was in the latter mood. He could tell his blatant answer surprised the boy, but a few seconds later Lawrence was actually smirking wryly up at him, hopping forward so he was stood at Burnie’s side. The kid appreciated people being straight with him, that was another thing Burnie was learning. He always wanted whatever was in your mind, be it good or bad; he wanted to know what you were really thinking and threw a fit if he thought someone was being coy with him.

“Easier to take people down - can go for the legs. I done it loads before,” Lawrence grinned, and Burnie laughed a little, regaining his composure.

“I’ve no doubt you have,” he agreed. Burnie often thought the boy would benefit from hanging out with James and Adam more. Not only were they of similar age but it would do everyone a favor if Lawrence could burn off some of his pent-up rage in, let’s say, a little backyard wrestling, rather than on, what was more common, household items or household residents.

Burnie was hugely grateful though, that Lawrence was in one of his rare chirpier moods that day, in that he wasn’t being a complete menace. They had a rota for the kids to help with the shopping every other weekend. To be honest, it wasn’t so much their help that was needed, although Burnie did appreciate it, but more of a chance to spend time with them more as individuals or pairs in a very normal, everyday setting. Michael especially loved coming with Burnie on his own. It was the only time the kid would call him ‘Dad’, just so other people would think they were related. Burnie didn’t discourage it, if Michael wanted to call him Dad for a few hours, he was hardly one to say no.

And that day, the most complaint Burnie had when asking Lawrence to go into town with him and Ryan was a long exaggerated sigh and an eye roll. In the car, he had even been quite talkative and, contrary to most kids his age, had been the one asking Burnie questions about himself. “What was your first job?”, “What’s your family like?”, “What’s the worst Christmas gift you ever got?”. Burnie didn’t know if the boy was actually interested in the answers - he doubted it - or if he was just doing it to keep any talk about his own life and feelings away - much more likely.

Still, Burnie welcomed the conversation all the same. When he wasn’t shouting or fighting or in one of his foul, sulking moods when he wanted nothing to do with anyone, the kid actually provided enjoyable company. He was intelligent with a dark sense of humor, and he apparently had a strong view of anything and everyone. With those characteristics, it was easy to think he and Ryan might have gotten along well. But maybe they were too similar on that front, repelling against each other like identical magnets, with Lawrence always being overly competitive to get one up on the older boy.

Anyway, Lawrence had remained in a good mood after Burnie let him choose where they got food. They’d been to a homewares store, and he’d been more than happy to play lapdog, running off to go and fetch items Burnie listed off. For a while, he was like any normal, happy kid out in the town, if a little extra wild, and it had given Burnie a greater sense of hope that they were making groundwork with the boy. Perhaps he had wished for that desired breakthrough too soon.

“Why do I have to go with him?”

“You don’t have to but I’m going to be waiting in line for at least half an hour at this time, so if you’d rather do that…”

Lawrence’s eyes widened in horror at the idea of standing still for so long. “Hell no.”

Burnie smirked. “Thought as much.”

“No one likes a know-it-all,” the boy sang, imitating a voice Burnie knew had been aimed at Lawrence a lot.

Burnie grinned wider still, shaking his head while Lawrence pulled faces. He glanced over at Ryan, who had stayed quiet during the mini argument, head turned away, daydreaming. A passive attitude was what Ryan usually adopted if any argument not involving him broke out, so persistent about not giving a damn it could sometimes rile up the others more. It wasn’t easy though, Burnie knew. He knew in nearly all of those instances, Ryan was using every bit of self-control to hold his tongue, if only in fear of what might happen should he get involved.

He walked over to the teen, placing a hand on his shoulder. “He’s in a good mood. You’ll be fine, but give me a call if you need me,” he assured.

Ryan gave a short nod, in his military disciplined mode, a tactic he engaged when he really didn’t want to do something. But this would be a good thing, Burnie was convinced. If they were going to live together all the kids had to learn to get along at some point. And being the second eldest, he knew and trusted Ryan’s abilities to handle one unruly child for an hour or so.

Burnie also knew that sometimes, he could get things disastrously wrong.

––––

Their task was simple, and it needed no overcomplicating.

Walk to the store, get the food, pick up Ryan’s laptop that had gone in for repairs, meet up with Burnie. Easy, nothing hard about that.

Or at least it would be if Ryan had been on his own, with his own capable self.

“This is boring,” Lawrence moaned for the umpteenth time, as they walked along through the crowds. It was walking, it wasn’t meant to be overly interesting or stimulating, and Ryan knew Lawrence knew that, and he was simply repeating the same phrase over and over to get on Ryan’s nerves. Whatever. Ryan could deal with that. Hell, he’d had to sit next to Jeremy on a forty minute drives while the little boy just sang “bored, bored, bored, bored,” the whole drive.

Anyhow, he wanted to get the shit done as fast as possible.

“Watch where you're walking, you’re gonna end up in the middle of the road if you’re not careful.”

“So? It’ll be quicker,” Lawrence said, pointing to the congested traffic, all the cars having come to a stand-still.

Ryan sighed and quickened his pace, dodging around the slowly moving shoppers.

“Hey!” The small boy bounded after him, having to switch between walking and jogging to keep up with Ryan’s long-legged strides. Dark hair poked out from underneath the hood he’d kept up, even though it was relatively warm and not raining, the dark grey hooded jacket the perfect color to match the effect he was having on Ryan’s mood.

As something to do, Ryan checked the money Burnie had given him, counting out the cash under his breath. He could see in the corner of his eye, Lawrence watching him with interest. “You using all that on food?” he asked after a beat, eagerly eyeing the money.

Ryan paused, not forgetting his money that had gone missing a month or so ago, and he tightened his fingers around the cash. “Yep.”

“Cause y’know, you could like–”

“No, I couldn’t,” Ryan interrupted, predicting where Lawrence was going. “They have strict rules on what is purchased with the budget money and check all the receipts. And anyway,” he sent down a chiding glare. “I would never do that.”

He found himself met with a fierce look. “Cause you’re a pussy?”

Jesus Christ. Ryan swallowed hard. “No, because I don’t want to.”

“I would.”

Ryan carried on meeting hard gaze with equal firmness. “Good thing I have the money and not you then, isn’t it?”

Lawrence considered this and slowly nodded. “I could take it from you if I wanted to. Aim for the legs,” he retorted, making a few fake darts towards Ryan. He threw up his arms when his antics were met with yet another hard glare. “Lighten up Ryan, I’m only kidding.”

He wasn’t, but Ryan didn’t mention anything that could prolong the conversation. They walked on in silence. Ryan shivered as a cold blast of wind suddenly hit them, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets for shelter. Inevitably, Lawrence soon grew further bored and, to Ryan’s horror and embarrassment, invented a game called ‘Let’s see how many people I can walk into’ as they were entering the ginormous food store.

He tried grabbing him but Lawrence only darted away. He tried glaring at him but it had absolutely no effect, the younger boy only grinning in return. Then he tried ignoring him until he heard someone curse very loudly and turned to see a large gentleman struggling to pick up his fallen shopping and a very shifty young boy hurrying away.

“Lawrence, c’mon,” Ryan said, defeated, and it was his sound of defeat that eventually had Lawrence returning to his side, smug in his victory.

Stay calm, Ryan fought to remind himself. No need to get mad at this little shit.

They headed for the small electronics repair station, located near the back of the store first, Ryan eager to see his faithful old laptop again.

“Did you know that sausages are older than the Bible?” Lawrence asked at one point.

Ryan frowned so Lawrence explained. “Sausages. They came before the Bible. So Jesus and his buddies probably chilled out with barbeque, shooting the shit.”

Ryan’s frown only deepened. “Oh.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Didn’t say you were.”

Ryan growled under his breath as the younger boy suddenly danced across in front of him, almost tripping him up. “Did you know that most bananas are clones?” Lawrence asked as he passed.

“No.”

“It’s true.” Lawrence nodded sagely. “Did you know Hawaiian pizza was invented in Canada?”

“Okay, whatever. I don’t care.”

The boy looked up at Ryan in satisfaction. “You’re just mad that I’m smarter than you.”

“No. I’m not. I just really don’t care.”

“So you admit I’m smarter than you?”

Ryan let out a huff of frustration. “I’m just not gonna listen to you anymore.”

“Aww,” Lawrence grinned, putting on a fake tone of disappointment, and it was such a different attitude to how he normally was that Ryan actually felt a tinge of guilt. It was easy to hate Lawrence when he was acting like a little brat - aka the whole time Ryan had known him - not so much when he was bouncing alongside Ryan like an oversized puppy. If it had been one of the other youngsters asking him questions like that he would have taken it in his stride. Heck, Gavin was famed for his random ass queries and Ryan took them as they came with fondness and humor.

So Ryan decided to brush aside his built up annoyance at the kid and throw the dog a bone. Now that he thought about it, there was one thing about the young boy that had been intriguing him for a while. “Seeing as you’re in such a talkative mood, I’ve gotta question for you.”

Lawrence looked up at him again, green eyes narrowing, silent as he waited for Ryan to expand.

“Your accent. You’re from the south?”

The surprise was evident on Lawrence’s face, a rare moment of open emotion. “You can tell?” he asked, a tone Ryan hadn’t heard before in his voice. Cautious or worried maybe, but also excitement?

“I can hear you’ve lost most of it, but I’m a Georgia boy, got a finer ear for those dialects than most others up here.”

“I’m from Texas,” Lawrence replied, chin high, the statement sounding proud. The moment didn’t last long as he quickly lowered his head, slowing his walk down as he mumbled: “But I ain’t lived there for a while. My first foster dicks only spoke Spanish too, so that was a mindfuck. Kinda mixed me all up, I think.”

Ryan slowed down too, regarding the hood that covered the bent head. “You ever think about going back there one day?”

A sharp intake of breath, as if Lawrence were going to reply with one thing but changed his mind last second. “I dunno. Probably not. There’s nothin’ there for me,” he said instead. He looked up at Ryan again, expression once more unreadable. “Why? You wantin’ to go back to pretty old Georgia?”

“I’ve thought about it… but it’s for the best that I don’t,” Ryan mumbled, voice tight. It was always there, whenever the topic was brought up, and he supposed he only had himself to blame, mentioning it this time.

“Why?” Lawrence regarded him curiously.

Ryan didn’t reply. Couldn’t. It wasn’t that there was nothing in Georgia for him. But none of it was good, none of it was happy.

Jason…

He tried to avoid thinking about it altogether but Lawrence had unintentionally flipped it onto him from Ryan’s own question. The tensions that always crept into his muscles and nerves were a clear sign that he was far from over it, that the wound had barely begun to heal. He just buried it under layers and layers of carefully constructed walls and new memories with his new ‘family’, like an artist starting a new sketch, creating something new and beautiful, but only ever covering that initial hurt.

“Jason? You here?”

If Ryan ever went back home again… he didn’t know what he would do. He liked to think he would stay in control but he’d thought that before, although back then all the hurt and anger had been so much rawer. But Ryan knew, at least for now, he couldn’t trust himself.

“Hey Ty, you seen my brother?”

Really, who could? You come face to face with your brothers killer, it’s bound to make you see red. It had happened once it would probably happen again, and now with the guy out on bail after only two years… Ryan’s fist clenched. Accident or no, that drunken fight had taken away his only living family member. Was two years justice enough in his mind? Fuck no.

“No! You have to let me in! I’m family!”

A light poke on his arm brought him rushing back to the present, and he turned to see Lawrence continuing to gaze up at him, little face still unreadable. “S’alright. You don’t need to tell me nothin’,” he said, glancing up at him, corner of his mouth tilting up. “All got our secrets, don’t we?”

“It’s not like that,” Ryan began, but Lawrence’s words had him halt.

Yeah, we do all have our secrets, and as much as Geoff got on his nerves, Ryan always found himself reluctantly admitting that the guy had a certain skill for being the voice of reason. What Geoff had said, back near the start of term; he didn’t know anything about this kid and the shit he’d probably been through. Just like Lawrence didn’t know about the shit Ryan had been through.

Huh, been living with him for nearly three months and still know next to nothing.

Honestly, all he did know was from what he could see right there in front of him. The things Lawrence couldn’t keep hidden away under layers and layers of his own carefully contracted walls.

And all he saw was a small kid. Just that. A small, slightly rough around the edges, kid.

Ryan knew if Jason had still been around he would have told Ryan to be the bigger man and let bygones be bygones. Or at least take the Geoff approach and not allow anything Lawrence had said or done to affect him personally. To brush it off with a good-natured hand –

“Tell me who did it.”

But he wasn’t his brother and it had never come as naturally to him. And he definitely didn’t want the kid around at the moment, not when Ryan was suddenly feeling so very vulnerable with his emotions. Right now he needed some space, and he searched for the quickest exit he could find - desperately leaping at it when he figured he could kill two birds with one stone.

“I’m going to fucking kill you!”

His body shook hard, like he was physically trying to brush the memories away.

“Lawrence, take this list and get me the items on there, okay?” he fumbled in his pocket for the list Burnie had given him. At the boy’s insolent expression, he even resorted to placing his palms together and leaning over so they were somewhat eye level. “Pretty please?” he begged, batting his eyelids for good measure.

Lawrence grunted out a laugh, giving Ryan a weird look, but he slowly took the paper from him.

Ryan saw the green eyes narrow as they scanned the list for an abnormally long time. He wasn’t sure if the boy had just zoned out or was intentionally wasting time, and he tapped his foot impatiently. “Normal food, huh?” Lawrence asked eventually, peering up at Ryan speculatively.

“Yeah…” Ryan drawled out, suspicious. “What else did you think it’d be?” Too late for a reply, Lawrence was already walking off. Ryan stared after him, torn between leaving him like planned or running after him to make sure nothing went wrong. About to call after him, he thought better of it. Ryan needed his space right now, privacy to wallow in his own thoughts and memories - a solo companionship he welcomed.

It worked - as he knew it would - going about his business, waiting quietly in line to be reunited with his laptop. He was often unsure if thinking about Jason and what had happened to him was healthy. In one sense it wasn’t good to dwell on the dark facts, but surely avoiding the topic altogether was just as bad. Ryan tried to allow his mind to wander there in moderation, and not in large public places.

Afterwards, realizing he hadn’t set up any meetup point, and failing to find the younger boy by just walking aimlessly around, Ryan decided to just wait by the checkouts, relaxing as Lawrence finally appeared, returning with a full cart that was almost as tall as he was.

Ryan smiled, pleased that everything seemed in order - that they could pay and meet back up with Burnie and then head home, where Ryan could go straight to his room and check himself out of reality for a while –

“What’s all this? What –”

“Food.” Lawrence cut in. He was staring at the very point just above Ryan’s eyes, as if he thought the older boy couldn’t tell the difference. His voice was quiet, deceptively calm.

“But more than half of this isn’t what was wrote down,” Ryan snapped, observing the array of food that he knew wasn’t normally on the list.

“I lost it.”

“What?”

“I lost it,” Lawrence repeated, softly.

Ryan glared. “You lost the food?”

“No, you dumbass. The list.” Lawrence sighed, leaning forward on the cart, bored again.

Ryan scowled, one hundred percent not convinced. He loomed over the smaller boy, who looked up at him with dull, inexpressive eyes, not at all intimidated or regretful. No apologies here. “Great. Well, that’s a whole lot of time wasted. Burnie’s gonna be happy when he returns and we’ve done nothing! You think he’s gonna fall for this dumb act?”

The briefest flash of something glinted in the green eyes. “You got your laptop didn’t you? I got food. We’re good,” Lawrence said, a slight more forceful this time.

“No. I did what I needed to do. You’ve just messed me around - as usual,” Ryan couldn’t help adding.

Lawrence laughed then - a harsh, cruel sound. It was far from the laughter Ryan had heard earlier. Then he’d seemed more normal - as cheeky and excitable as any kid his age. But when he stood, hood still up, glaring up at Ryan dangerously - he couldn’t reconcile the two.

Ryan flipped.

“Why are you like this? Do you want me to not like you - is that it?” he demanded to know. “Because you’re succeeding, so congratulations –”

Lawrence tipped the cart over.

It created a thunderous, jarring crash, the produce spilling everywhere, sliding around Ryan’s feet. The older boy jolted backward - for a moment he couldn’t comprehend what was happening, and could only stare at Lawrence with wide eyes, breathing so fast he almost felt dizzy. The look on Lawrence’s face disturbed him more than the action did - his green eyes had darkened so much they nearly looked black, his lips pulled taught into a furious sneer.

“Whatever!” The boy shouted at him, enraged voice echoing around the whole store. By now quite a crowd had gathered from the commotion, onlookers warily watching the scene unfold. “¡Me vale madre!” Lawrence yelled again, meeting Ryan dead in the eye - no averted gazes now.

And Ryan didn’t need to be fluent in Spanish to get the gist of that particular phrase. He tightened his fists hard, pointing a demanding finger at the mess. “Get here. We’re cleaning this up.” The tremors in his body were growing more violent by the second as he felt the control slipping away.

Lawrence stayed where he was, glaring defiantly. Then instead of coming closer, he took a step backward, kicking one of the fallen apples at Ryan, and then another, laughing as he did so.

“Lawrence! Stop it!”

There was no point trying to rectify anything at this point, deep down Ryan knew that. They were both too angry. There was a little voice in the back of his mind telling him to back off, that nothing could be done. Be smart, leave it be. Whatever’s going on is out of your control now. You can’t fix this on your own.

“I’m going to fucking kill you!”

“I’m going to fucking kill you!”

“I’m going to fucking kill you!”

Stay… in… control.

Lawrence kicked another apple at him.

“Get here you little fuck!” Ryan launched like a wild predator, making a grab for the boy with both arms, fully uncaring about what happened to either of them, but Lawrence nimbly dodged, backing himself into a corner. He bared his teeth, sadistically, as Ryan once again lunged at him. Another dodge, a duck, and then a swift and ferocious kick to Ryan’s shin, and he was away, disappearing around an aisle before Ryan even had a chance to catch a breath.

The crowd of onlookers was even larger now and some were saying stuff to him… maybe, he wasn’t really listening. Unwelcome tears of embarrassment and anger pooled in the corner of Ryan’s eyes as he clutched at his throbbing leg. “You - you little shit!” he raged, uncaring of all the prying stares.

It was like his own eyes had blinders on them, narrowing his eyesight to the mess around him, all sounds muffled except for his own pounding heartbeat and heavy breathing. His cheeks and his lungs burned.

Slowly. Breathe slowly.

I need to breathe, I need to breathe, I need to breathe.

He counted to ten in his head, breathing in and out as he did so. He repeated it.

Slowly, slowly the real world blended back into his frame of vision, not that it was any better. Ryan sighed as he heard the crackle of a radio and the man holding it.

Great. Security.

–––––

When Burnie first got the text from Ryan telling him he had to ask for the manager to take him to Ryan, it had put his head in a spin and left him panicked. A whole host of scenarios had rushed through his head, each one worse as the seconds ticked by between him receiving the message on his way to the store and him bursting through the staff doors to find a very sullen looking teen sat in the middle of an otherwise empty row of chairs, outside a door labelled ‘Security’.

“Ryan! You alright? What’s going on? Where’s Lawrence?” Burnie rushed out before Ryan even had time to look up.

When he saw who it was his shoulders slumped, head hanging.

Burnie was quick to take a seat next to him, subconsciously checking for any injuries of clues as to what had gone on. “Well? Ryan?” he insisted.

“I um… lost him,” Ryan said, voice low and flat, folding his arms, and Burnie’s spine went rigid.

Not again.

“You’re joking,” he said hopefully, even though he knew it was futile, confirmed by the helpless look Ryan gave him. “You’re not joking,” Burnie mumbled, running hands through frazzled hair, feeling like he was aging quicker all of a sudden. “How did you lose him?”

Ryan swallowed. He was wary, like he was being tested here, in some way, nervous under Burnie’s close eye. He seemed to struggle with what to say. “Well I kinda got mad and we got into a bit of a fight… but he’d gone and got all the wrong food on purpose and then he tipped the cart over and there was a mess and –”

“And let me guess, you saw red and he ran off,” Burnie finished off for him, already picturing the scene in his head. When Ryan said “kinda mad” he knew that was only half of it.

Ryan squirmed. “Yeah, not before he gave me a good kick in the shin though,” he managed finally. “Left me to deal with the mess too. I tried explaining it to them but I think they best talk to you. Think they’ll be back in a minute.”

Burnie nodded, formulating his next plan of action. “Alright, I’ll do that and, well, we’ll have a look and ask around and then better call the police, I suppose.” He laughed light, because that’s all he could do. “They’re gonna love us by the end of this year.”

“I - I’m really sorry Burnie,” Ryan stammered, bracing himself like he expected Burnie to be angry at him, like he thought he’d let the man down. It was moments like this that made Burnie curse the past events that still affected his kids more than ever. That he could love and care for them as much as possible, and they would return the favor, but they could also still instinctively react in such defensive manners, old wounds easily opening.

“No I – it’s fine Ryan,” Burnie said automatically. Ryan shook his head as if taking on the disappointment in himself he thought Burnie should have.

“Hey, really Ryan,” Burnie squeezed his shoulder. “Don’t worry about today. It’s my fault if anyone’s, I shouldn’t have left you two alone. It was my mistake for stupidly thinking he might actually be behaving today.”

Ryan took in a shaky breath.

“It was me. He was fine with you but with me he didn’t want to listen. He did it just to annoy me because he knew it would, and I fell for it. I should’ve… should’ve just dealt with it until you got back.” He was clearly very frustrated with himself.

“Two things,” Burnie began. “I’m the one trained to deal with kids acting out and two, neither of us really know yet why that kid does what he does. But if I were to guess, I don’t think it was personal Ryan. I think that sometimes it just might be in his nature to act out.”

Ryan raised an eyebrow. “Like I do?”

“You never act out. You positively explode.”

Ryan smiled at his light teasing. “I’m getting better though, aren’t I? I mean… I was,” he trailed off.

“Absolutely,” Burnie assured. “I haven’t noticed that fireball anger in… well, not for a long time. I know you can go into rage mode but it’s often filled with humor these days. Or…” he lowered his voice, “is that just you hiding your true feelings?”

Ryan shook his head adamantly. “No. They’re not out as control as they used to be. Of course, I’m usually still angry for them to occur in the first place, but I’m quicker to find the lighter side of things.” He pulled a self-deprecating face. “It helps that the others just laugh anyway if I start shouting, helps me realize quicker if I’m getting upset over things that no one needs to be angry about.”

Burnie nodded. “But today - today you were so angry because?” he asked tentatively.

“Because he just has that effect, he… he was wasting time, your time. And he didn’t care, he seemed pleased with himself, like I said, he just wanted to make me angry. Guess he succeeded.” Ryan muttered sourly as he ran a hand across his own face, mirroring Burnie’s action from earlier, looking so old and so young at the same time.

“Thank you, Ryan,” Burnie said quietly, breaking the silence. “Thank you for caring about my time being wasted. Though nothing’s ever a waste with you lot, you know that,” he added. “Try not to dwell on today. What’s done is done and besides, I’m proud of you for lasting that long with him. I’m pretty certain Adam or Michael would have tackled him into the cereal stand way earlier.”

A pause. Ryan snorted gently. “Would’ve probably been more effective.” That joke, as small as it might have been, relieved Burnie to no end. If there was one thing he didn’t want to get from today it was Ryan blaming himself for no good reason. The fact that he appeared to be lightening up was good news. “If you’re so proud of me…” Ryan continued after a moment, eyes glinting with mischief when Burnie met them. “Does that mean I can get out of doing something at the house for my birthday?”

Burnie shook his head with vigor, matching Ryan’s small smile. “Hell no.”

If there was one thing you needed to work at Rooster Teeth, it was a bit of that quality “embarrassing dad” factor.

[fuck-customers]

This is a fuck managers, or a fuck a certain area manager. 

My area manager is a bitter rich kid who used to work for head office in a swanky yet pointless role that no longer exists, because it's pointless. Therefore, they gave him a new position of area manager. The area's merchandiser had a similar thing happen to him but luckily he's pretty laid back and nice and friendly and not bitter about the whole thing.

Okay, basically, my manager is in shit at work because he fucked up big time - it's a long story but the final straw was that he pretty much kept leaving early, making keyholders close up. It's not the biggest problem ever - but it's pretty shitty because he wasn't doing his contracted hours, he had no reason to leave and he's been kinda slacking it a lot recently, too. 

I think everyone at my work is pretty disappointed in him because he's a pretty good manager - everyone apart from management and the head keyholder is part time, and most of us study and he tries to make our hours work, he gives us preference of what section of the store we want to be on, he's always giving us opportunities to develop. There's been rumours flying about that things aren't good at home with his family, which I suppose kinda sucks BUT he's being an ass. And it needs to stop. However, he's been suspended, which I think is quite harsh considering but hopefully it means he can get his ass in gear once he's back. 

This means my *lovely* area manager has been visiting a lot more recently. The area is pretty huge but *luckily* he is only a town over. He's a huge, arrogant dickhead and I actually can't stand him. 

First of all, he came in two Saturday's ago (25/03) - the day my boss was suspended. Basically, they spent quite a long time in the back office together and then my manager left midday - although he was closing. This meant my area manager stayed, he called us all over to the cash desk and said, "X had to go home. So, I'm covering."

He then ripped up the days rota and began rewriting it - assigning us all really anal tasks that really didn't need to be done on a busy weekend.

He flipped at me when he seen me log onto the managers area of the cash desk that opens up discounts and also sale reports. My manager trusts a few of us to do, and because it allows for quicker service as opposed to calling over managers 24/7. I was about to note the past hours sales so I could quickly restock (as the other way we restock is quite time consuming) but he just flipped and told me although it was fine for me to to access it, I not to do it without his or any other managers permission ever again. I literally felt like I was in high school, and because I was so annoyed made a big effort of asking every single young person who I put through on the cash desk if they had a student card so I could call him over and ask if I could put through student discount.

Eventually, I got some justice as he said I could put through this discount without asking him as he was "too busy to come over every five minutes."

He was next in with me on the Monday after, covering my managers shift again, however, I was only doing a lunch cover shift and was in the storeroom. He literally didn't speak to me (or really anyone else in) at all apart from the assistant manager. There was a point when one of the assistants left a pile of untagged t shirts on the shelf beside the cash desk as she tagged other ones, that really pissed him off and he called up all over to inform us of how dangerous it was to do this. 

He was in a couple of other days covering until the rota got sorted but luckily not with me until the Saturday. Long story short, he yelled to the merchandising manager about how terrible the store looked, made a list of what needed to be change by Monday (sidenote: IT WAS A VERY BUSY WEEKEND - IT WAS PAY WEEKEND). 

Through his week of covering I heard he ignored a few of my coworkers when they tried to speak to him, got very pissed at one who asked for a week off in a couple of months time as she is required to go on a weeks placement for her course so that she can pass and made one come in although she was very ill and tried to phone in sick. 

He's also completely nasty to my favourite manager, the sweetest of supervisors ever. She thinks its because she told him she didn't really want to stay in retail for long as she's hoping to go full time with her hairdressing business when he did her performance review with her. Apparently he makes her text him when she's scheduling and actively watched her make a rota when he was in with her during this week. She's been in this job for YEARS - I don't get his problem.

I wasn't in with him again until yesterday (06/04) when he was in for a "check up" and to also give us some Easter Eggs (that was pretty fun but very childish and condescending -  HID AROUND THE STORE AND MADE US FIND BY GIVING US TERRIBLE CLUES). As he had been in a lot recently, I would have thought he would have spoke to the staff more (as opposed to the egg hunt, he has only spoke to me about doing tasks) - yet he ignored me when I tried to instigate conversation and when he took a lunch break avoided the staffroom. When I was on my lunch break, he came into the staffroom to text and actively got annoyed at me for eating a burger from Five Guys because I "reeked of it" and because of how bad it is for me blah blah blah... he then walked away. Thursdays are pretty quite for us until later on at night as we're open later so less people are scheduled until later on usually when they do a 4-5 hour closing shift with a manager or keyholder. Me and one of my supervisors were on the long close shift so there was a point when those who opened left and it was just us two, and someone doing an afternoon cover shift until the rest of the guys came in. He was LIVID by this scheduling which we've done ever since I started because we're supposed to have someone in every area AND someone in the storeroom (however, this is a very quite 2-3 hours) and instead of y'no covering an area or doing stuff in the back actually changed every rota that had this couple of hours with only 3 staff members in so that there was 5 people in... he didn't check if it was cool with anyone (as I said, we're all mostly students, so some could obviously not work unless they were off) and just changed it. When he came back onto the shopfloor he was annoyed at myself and my supervisor for talking at the front of the store because nobody was at the back covering the fitting rooms (which were deserted, as with the store in general as we could see the back from the cctv at the front of the store).

So in conclusion or TLDR; area manager is basically a fuck who is too by-the-book and impractical. Isn't approachable to staff and just yells about everything. WHEN CAN MY BOSS COME BACK?!

[elevenhoursinfront-blog]

19th April 2017

My alarm went off at 0700. I have never felt so tired in my life. I probably have, I say that every time I have to wake up early. I stayed in bed for 15 extra minutes before getting into the shower. I had to wash my hair which is an absolute nightmare. There was only one other girl getting ready at the same time as me. I feel your pain sister. Shower done, hair done, makeup done. I put my new work trousers on and a white floral shirt. I bent down to sort my bag out and I heard my trousers rip. I felt it right in the seam of my bum. I couldn't believe it - I was mortified. I ran to the toilets to check and thankfully, they hadn't made a hole, yet. The sewing had come apart. I need to lose weight. I woke Steve up at 0915 as he said he wanted breakfast. We went down and had some cereal together. I had to leave for my first interview at 0940 latest. Steve was awake and said he'd come along with me for the day. He likes to walk around new places to see what he can find so he would be fine if I was going to be a few hours. We left the hostel and got onto the Lilydale Line for two stops. The train was already there when we got on the platform so it was brilliant timing. I would've been late otherwise. We were at the cafe by 1000, my interview & trial wasn't until 1030. We walked around for a bit and sat in a different cafe. I didn't order anything because knowing me, I'd get it down my top. I left Steve and went into the cafe. I said I was here to see Sera and she introduced herself straight away. She was quite young, very energetic and made me feel really at ease. I had to trial first so I had to clear the tables, take orders and sit people down. It was really easy and the other staff were friendly too. They were very laid back which helped with my nerves. Sera kept on telling me how well I was doing throughout, too. After awhile, we sat down for the interview. She basically told me I got the job and asked whether I could go back tomorrow around 1600 to talk to the managers regarding pay, rota and how it would work. I was so excited. I walked back to find Steve in McDonald's (obviously) but he didn't order anything. He was using the free wifi. We walked around for a bit but I was stupidly hot in my outfit. Typical that my interviews would be on the hottest day this week. We got the train back to the hostel and we chilled out for a bit before my next interview. Around 1345, we left to catch the train on the Frankston line. It was 2 stops to South Yarra. It was much prettier than the last place. The last place was very quiet, hardly any people or cars. I arrived 45 minutes early for this interview so again we sat in a cafe. We ordered a baguette as we hadn't eaten yet. They were only $5, I couldn't believe how cheap they were. I left Steve at 1430. My interview was in a massive office block - level 3, suite 25. I began to get really nervous. I find the hardest part of interviews is making sure I've found the correct place on time. I walked in and there were quite a few people having interviews. Some wearing jean shorts and one brought her friend to sit with her. So strange. I had my interview with a man that was very much like my dad, except he was a massive fan on TOWIE. When I walked in and started talking, he said "OMG. YOU'RE FROM ESSEX". I started laughing and he went on a massive tangent about how much he loved TOWIE. He went on about Lydia and Arg's relationship and how Gemma gets involved... He has watched from series 1 to 18 religiously. He told me when he visits England, he's going to go Brentwood and Sugar Hut for a night out. He was brilliant. He made my day. After awhile he said that I got the job, WOOP! My Essex routes definitely did that for me... He then broke the news about it not starting for another 5 weeks! I didn't say no because who knows what will be happening in 5 weeks time but deep down I knew I would be home by then without employment. I left the interview, still with the biggest smile on my face. That man was so happy. I bet he goes home and tells his wife how he met someone from Essex. I found Steve in the barbers getting his mop cut. I'm not sure if it's the weather, but our hair, nails and bellies are growing so much quicker! We went into 7-11 to get a $1 Slurpie to celebrate. A homeless lady was in there shoplifting little bits. She was scary. She had 3-4 bags that were full of items. I accidentally got in the way of her as she tried to run out of the shop. She barged me with her bags and turned around screaming at me "YOU BITCH. YOU, YEAH YOU. NASTY LITTLE BITCH YOU". She scared the hell out of me but luckily she was running in a different direction. Steve and I got onto the train to go back to the hostel. We got in and I got out of my clothes. I love being in lounge clothes. My pyjamas are on the second I get in at home. I was tired and I had a day full of nerves so I treated myself to an hour nap. Steve's phone started ringing and it was the recruiter for the removals company. He's been invited for an interview tomorrow at 1030 so fingers crossed for that. Steve woke me up at 1700 to go down to make dinner with Megan and Dan. We sat down chatting for an hour or two before even moving. Sera, from the cafe text me to say that she basically had too much staff and cannot guarantee employment. Broken. I was so upset. Why tell me I got the job if you've employed too many people? Why lie to me? I sat there with the hump for 5 minutes until it got worse. Kat got a text from Sera after I got mine. Her text said "Hi Kat, could you come in tomorrow at 1600? I'd like to meet you and see how interested in the role you are". WHAT! WHY? You have enough staff apparently so why are you asking for more?! This woman was clearly lying and she had no idea that Kat and I knew each other. I text her back asking what was going on because someone I knew had been invited in the next day. I put the text polite and professional and she replied "Just need to get through the next week. Sorry babe". Arughhhh. My phone rang in the next 2 minutes and I answered. It was a man asking me to come in for a trial shift at 0830 tomorrow morning. I agreed to it and they text me the address. It was only a 15 minute tram ride away, just a little further in from the Queen Victoria market. They requested that I wore a black work shirt and black trousers. I had to run to Target at 1900 to buy a black shirt which was a pain in the behind. I've kept my receipts because apparently you can get the money back through your tax refund for work stuff. Fingers crossed. By the time I got back, I wasn't hungry. I couldn't be bothered to make dinner and I was just in a really poor mood. Today has been an emotional rollercoaster and I wanted to go to bed. Steve made egg, bacon and beans. We went up to bed around 2130 as my alarm was on for 0630.

[fuck-customers]

Please excuse my language but I am a little bit upset

I never thought I would submit a fuck managers story because until today I felt supported by my management but one of my new managers is seriously pushing me over the edge! I come in this morning (10th March) to start my shift and this bitch asks me what happened yesterday and I'm confused and she said that I was supposed to come in and that I was put on the rota. Errm I don't think so, because I checked this weeks rota on Tuesday when I was last in and it didn't say anything about me working the 9th. And then, this makes me laugh, she said that she was "concerned that something had happened to [me] on the way into work." Well, you weren't that concerned if you didn't even bother to phone me?? (Like she can ask my manager when I was in womenswear that if she rang to tell me I was in, I would've been in as soon as possible because that happened once over christmas when I was scheduled to be in but no one had told me.) And then she keeps pissing me off telling people that "oh M forgot she was supposed to be in yesterday". I didn't fucking forget you rat faced troll, because in order to forget, I would've had to have known that I was supposed to be in IN THE FUCKING FIRST PLACE!!! And then she's scheduled me in for the next five days, I've got two days off after that, and then two days in a row but then she asks if I could do one of the days I had off so I'd be doing six days in a row if you count today and then says in the most condescending voice "or will that be too much for you?" Errrr just a fucking bit. Like she knows that I have anxiety and anaemia so it gets emotionally and physically too much for me so yeah it would be too much for me, you dog! Whilst I'm complaining as well, for the first three weeks (she's only just started to pick up the slack) she would do literally fucking nothing!! Like we could be having a mad lunch rush, queue going out the door, dirty tables everywhere, food waiting to be served, dirty dishes needing to be clean AND we've been hopelessly understaffed lately but apparently according to shit for brains, the most important task is to staND AROUND AND STARE AT THAT FUCKING GODDAMN ROTA!!!! Like I'd ask "could you be anymore dense??" but then I'd be worried she'd see it as a challenge and somehow make herself more fucking useless! She would just stare at this piece of paper "making sure everyone was doing their jobs" like a fucking dictator but if I was scheduled to be bussing tables, I'd be doing that AND trying to help run food AND trying to help in the wash room if I could and then this hoe would try and get me to more shit!! I remember at one point I just ignored her and pretended to not to hear her when she called me once because I was trying to do like four different things at once and I knew she'd want me to do more shit that she was capable of doing! Like her excuse was that she hadn't had any hot food/coffee/till training (I don't know why the fuck they hired her either) but those aren't the only tasks!! Like you don't need special training to TAKE MILK JUGS TO THE COFFEE COUNTER!!!! It doesn't help that I'm so tired today (I had like four hours sleep the night before and I've had one cup of coffee). The only saving grace from this is that I'll be having extra money so I can properly treat my mum for Mother's Day😊 TL;DR I'm not particularly fond of my new assistant manager as she is as useless as a dick on a pope and tries to say that I "forgot" I was scheduled for a shift when in fact she's that useless she didn't tell me I was scheduled in the first place. On the plus side, mo money less problems.