#Paper Making Line Equipment Vibrating Screen

[mxtantrights]

oh, to be in it with you

This is splices of a long work I had drafted up years ago. That being said I tried my best to make it more of a wordy one-shot than an ongoing thing because I just don't think I could return to this original idea, but if you like this then come into my inbox and request something for our Harry Osborn.

Harry Osborn x fem!reader, spidey!reader

PRE SNAP

Sighing, you picked up your phone to answer the call. It was always something with that boy. As soon as you took the call he was speaking. You thinks it's the rich boy complex.

"-ay I know I said I wanted an espresso but I take it back." Harry spoke.

"Oh yeah? What do you want now?" you asks.

"Just a regular black coffee." he says.

"Really?" you asked. But you knew already.

"I'll venmo you for the trouble."

"Please do." you ended the call.

You just earned herself four bucks. You knew he would change his mind. That's how Harry operates. And also he can't handle sugar after ten in the morning.

You carried the two regular coffees in the paper tray and exited the cafe. The trip to MoMA had been canceled due to the weird donut in the sky that appeared not too long ago. No it wasn't normal but the superheroes were on it. They always were.

So while everyone else went home, or wherever, Harry and you stayed together and headed over to the Osborn building. You two were gonna fool around with the lab equipment, maybe make 3d printed donuts. What else was there to do?

The cafe, was located right across the street from the building. 

Harry was looking out the window when it began to happen. The scientists that were in the room with him started disappearing one by one. He didn't catch on until he saw it with his own eyes. What once was an employee was now dust.

You were waiting to cross the street when you heard her phone vibrating in your hand. It was under the coffee tray. You balanced it in one hand and looked at the screen.

Harry. You thinks that he just called, so surely he couldn't have changed his mind again. Maybe he just needs the coffee a bit more than he let on.

Weirdly you picked up the phone. "Harry I'm coming. Calm do-"

"Somethings wrong, everyone is disappearing."

"What ar-" you began to say as a man stepped up next to you, waiting to cross the street too. You looked over to see the man begin to crumble like crumb cake. The dark dust began to get swept up by the wind as you gasped.

"You have to get over here now." Harry pleaded with you on the other side of the line.

"i'm coming, meet me at the front door." you didn't hang up the call.

You dropped the coffees and looked up and down the street. The cars were stopping in the middle of it, people getting out. Dust was becoming everyone. Or everyone was becoming dust.

Carefully you ran across the street over to the building. Looking inside you could faintly see the familiar blonde boy approaching the front door. You began to run to it, to him, at that moment.

When you reached the door- he wasn't there. The faint trail of dust was all you could see. Your heart sank to your feet.

"Holy shi- Harry?!" you shouted to no one in particular.

Your hand grabbed the door handle but you couldn't feel it. You could see your hand begin to turn dark and begin to crumble. It didn't hurt as you fell to the concrete ground. 

It wasn't long before it was your arms then you legs.

Then you.

POST SNAP

The sound of your name is want brings you back.

"Can you hear me? Wake up!" a voice says.

Your ears started to ring as you opened your eyes. You'd recognize that voice anywhere. Harry was in front of you, looking panicked and anxious. You looked around and saw- not your world. This was someplace else.

A deserted waste land. Red dirt, yellow skies. Two suns.

"Harry where the hell are we?" 

"I- I don't know. But there are other people here. I don't think we died. But this is- this is crazy."

"You think this is it?" you asked him, and he knew exactly what you meant.

In a world full of superheroes things were bound to go wrong. Dreadfully wrong. The attack on New York proved to everyone that nothing was out of limits. And now here we are. People turning to dust, waking up in a new world.

Harry shook his head. "No this can't be it. Theres no way- Tony Stark would never let this happen."

"What if it was out of his control? What if it's out of all of our control?" 

After that Harry did he best to calm you. Which included getting you off the floor, compartmentalizing the current catastrophe, trying to joke about his awful dad. And it worked.

For a while. You needed to be alone with your thoughts for a while.

You were walking as your eyes became watery. Osborn was doing what he did best, assembling a group of smart minds to get to the bottom of the situation. Which included you, you was the first mind he thought of actually, but you needed to take a moment.

Your arms were wrapped around herself as you walked in the foreign place. It wasn't like they were in a parallel universe or something. There was just nothing here except the red ground beneath them. There were dried trees with no leaves like the place had only known death. And there were so many people. 

You stopped after a while because you didn't want to get lost from Harry. So you stood underneath a tree, with your back pressed against the root. You thought that your body was actually vibrating from the fear. You held yourself even tighter. 

There were no avengers here. No Tony Stark to save them. You think that something must've happened and it must've been bad. Yo wonders about your parents and whether or not they are here too or if they were back home?

"Ah!" you yelped.

Your hand reached the back of your neck where the sudden pain was. You couldn't feel anything but the back of your neck felt warm. You squinted her eyes and looked up at the tree branches above you but there was nothing.

So you looked down.

And there in the red dirt was a twitching spider. It didn't look real honestly. It was black but on it's back there was a neon blue and purple hour glass. Like it was a cartoon or something. You bent over to get a better look at it but then something happened.

It glitched out of sight. Like when water is poured over a computer and the screen malfunctions. Theres a quick flicker of static and colors. The spider didn't come back.

You reached for the back of your neck again and thought to yourself. You hoped that the spider wasn't poisonous. The whole thought of being infected by a spider just irked you so much that you decided to go back to where Harry was.

You walk over to where he's assembled a group.

He's talking to someone on the side when he sees you. He pats them on the shoulder and makes his way over to you.

"Hey, your head cleared enough?" he asked.

You nodded. "I just wonder where everyone else is." 

Harry holds out his arm and you on instinct places yourself underneath it. He holds you close and rubs your arm. You know that it's in attempt to sooth you and you lets out a breath at the thought that you're with him during the midst of all of it.

"They're gonna save the day, they always do." 

You reach up to feel your neck again.

FIVE YEARS LATER

It happened all at once. One minute you were dozing off in the middle of a conversation with Harry and then everything around you changed. You awakened with a headache. You couldn't forget the whole dust thing and as soon as you remembered you jolted up from your position. 

You are on the floor. The floor of the Oscorp building.

A bunch of people are.

Harry.

You look around for him as you get to her feet. You couldn't help to see that the building looked different. The elevator that you used before was no replaced by a new one. The insides of the labs looked different. 

"Harry! Harry!" you shouted.

It wasn't him that came up to greet you. Instead it was a woman- a woman with a familiar face- that grabbed onto your shoulders. Her expression sad, shocked, a range full of emotions. 

"Oh my god it's you." she said and instantly latched onto you.

You grew confused at who the stranger was that was hugging you. You kept your arms at her sides and still looked for Harry. Until a whiff of perfume snuck up to your nose. The scent of Daisy by Marc Jacobs flooded your nose in an all too familiar way.

You know who wore that perfume? 

Oscorp's resident lab engineer, Melanie Malone. Melanie who had been given the job straight out of college. The same Melanie who's hair was always slicked back into a puff. 

You remove yourself from the woman's embrace to find that the likeliness isn't a coincidence. No.

Here is Melanie Malone. Standing in front of her. With dark circles under her eyes. And her hair grown out significantly. She didn't look like that same college girl who worked here. No she looked like a woman now.

"Melanie how long has it-" you began to ask but Melanie beat you to the punch.

"Five years." she answers.

Your whole body stilled at that. It wasn't long ago for you. It felt like a few hours. It felt like you had taken a nap. A weird nap in a weird place. But just a nap. How can it feel like that for you but for everyone else it's been five years?

Harry's voice cut through your thoughts. He's calling your name.

Your eyes moved franticly throughout the crowd that was forming in the lobby. You could see something moving towards you. Something fast. It didn't take long before you saw the long blonde hair.

Harry stopped when he reached you and Melanie. He stopped because he recognized Melanie- but not like this. 

"They're saying it's been five years- that can't be true right? It didn't feel like that for me. It felt like a couple of hours or something. How can this be possible?" He couldn't stop himself from the fear induced rambling, or his hands from trembling. 

You reached out to take his hands. "It was out of our control."

-

It happens when everyone is at the diner. Well, almost everyone. It's MJ, and Ned on one side. Harry and you on the other. Miles is in the bathroom. The bell to the front entrance rings out and you can see brown curls walking in. You know it's Peter. 

But then the feeling happens. The tingle that shoots from your spine to your head. And you're staring right at him. He's staring right back at you. He stops in the middle of the doorway too. You look away and try to distract yourself.

You gulp down your dry throat, which Harry notices.

"You good honey?" he asks.

And yes you're used to him calling you pet names. It doesn't mean you doesn't blush when he does it. MJ, close to the window now, notices it all the time but she doesn't say anything. 

You nods.

Peter slides in with Ned and MJ. And just as he does Miles is walking back and sliding in with you and Harry. No they didn't understand boundaries sometimes, and it shows. 

"Finally Parker. Anyways, so what are the plans for this weekend?" Miles asks.

"You don't remember? We have our trip to Europe." Ned says, pointing to himself, Peter and MJ.

Harry and Miles sigh while you nod your head. You all go to different schools so it's really weird when one of you has to explain to your families how you met. You remembers having to tell your father the whole story and even he was confused. 

You can feel Peter staring at you every few seconds or so.

"Oh wait I think I have a trip with my father coming up, oscorp business." Harry says.

Miles looks at you. "So it's just us'"

"You follow me around all the time anyways, nothin' new." you say.

Miles lightly shoves you and you shove him back. Then you remember your other plans for the night.

"I can't stay too late guys, I have to meet up with someone else later." you say.

Every head at the table turned. It's not because they all think you doesn't have friends. They know that you are the most friendly and kind person in their lives. However your social interactions are almost always limited to them.

Harry, Miles and MJ specifically.

"Is that so surprising? So mind boggling?" you say to the faces of surprise. 

"Do you have a date or something?" MJ asks.

MJ thinks, fuck it. Now is a great time to get into the whole Harry and you situation. There probably would be a better time, but when has loved sat quietly in the corner and wait for the perfect moment? Never, she thinks. Besides she was actually thinking about her feelings for Peter, and possibly telling him on their school trip.

Your eyes widen a bit. "No! I'm just meeting a friend-we're hanging out? I think?"

Miles laughs. "How do you think? You don't know?"

"Hey hey, she's allowed to have friends besides us," Harry starts and you sends him a small smiles before he continues, "but let's be mindful that I can get you Starbucks everyday."

Everyone at the table laughs at that. 

-

The first time you saw Harry's hands tremble you thought it was from the cold. So you did what any friend would do and took your own gloves off and handed them over. Of course, Harry wouldn't accept. Something about how the plaid pattern didn't match the 'vibes' from his coat. You rolled her eyes and shrugged your shoulders.

Harry never forgot that night. It was from then on he did his best to hide his condition even better. Especially from you, the girl he had fallen in love with several times over.

He tried his best, but you picked up on it from time to time. 

There was the time at the coffee shop when he was holding his black Amex. When he had taken it back from the barista, you could see the card shaking in his hands. He let a small grunt escape from his lips before slipping it into his wallet. 

You clapped his back softly before moving over to the pick-up station. Harry, with ray-bans attached to his face at that point, let out a sigh relief. 

Another appearance was during a study session. The two of you had been going strong for two hours until Harry suddenly wanted to do anything else. Even though you both had exams coming up, he began moving around his own house. Like he had misplaced something that he needed desperately at that very moment. 

The silence on your end was in part because you were watching him. And very subtly, his hands, out of your peripheral. You had been connecting the dots over some time now. How after you offered your gloves that one night, his shaking hands seemed to be a common occurrence. Or that one of them gets coffee for the both of them now. Or that he never hands you anything anymore.

You just laid out your textbook and notes on his coffee table and leaned back on his couch. With your head laid back, you asked if he wanted to order some take-out. His hand was shaking so much he couldn't take notes, you understood.

There was one time that he cannot hide it though. At the school dance- trivial, yeah he knows. He's pointing out that some kids are in the middle of spiking the punch bowl. And his finger is stretched out.

You takes one look at the kids before your eyes linger on his finger. His hand. His shaking hand. And you didn't have the words to speak about it with him, not when he worked so hard to deny it. You know that he doesn't have the words either. So you took his hand and dragged him to the dance floor. Well, the gym floor.

Not in the middle. Just a ways off from where they were on the bleachers. He instantly places his hands on your hips. Your arms reach up and dangle off the end of his shoulders. Harry is looking off to the side with a bit of a smirk.

"Oh don't you say anything Osborn." you say.

He shrugs a bit and looks at you. The heels gave you bit of an advantage that night. Your face is close to his. Not enough that your noses touch. But enough that you could feel his breath warm your cheeks.

"I just think you're trynna woo me a bit. I mean I'm flattered, but it's unneeded. I already write about you in my diary." he said.

You laughed. 

"Just the one?" she asked.

He smiled. 

He pulled her closer to him. The two swayed to the music in the gym. And you swore that he thanked you. Under his breath. Below the bass of a Jason Maraz song. You didn't respond, only squeezed him a bit tighter.

-

(dirty) Harry 

hey so I just got done with this seminar thing

wanna hang?

You snicker and type out a yes and asks for his location. Harry doesn't send it, he wants to know yours. After all he's got the driver. With a roll of your eyes, you drop your location. And you let him know that you'll wait in the bookstore.

Miles had something to do so the two of you wrapped up early. 

You go inside and the bell rings. Harry lets you know his ETA while you browse the store. After starting down the comedy section that is displaying twilight, you make a turn. As soon as you does, Maya sees a woman at the end of the aisle.

Your phone buzzes.

would you hate me if I said something just came up?

You sigh. You're about to type a response when you hear someone clear their throat. You looks up from your phone and it's the same woman. Except now she's closer. 

"Hi, can I just get," she points to the shelf, "in there?" 

You move to the side quickly, "sure, sorry about that."

"Nice jacket by the way. You a fan?" she asks.

You look down. Your jacket has the spider emblem on it. It wasn't really your choice. More like MJ had snuck a pocca pen session on your jacket one time. your phone buzzes again but you turn the screen off.

"Yeah, well he's pretty cool."  you say.

The lady smiles, "Yeah, but you're pretty cool too, aren't you?" 

There are a million alarms ringing in your head. Maybe more. But the bookstore isn't loud. You could scream and someone will hear. You backtrack to the front of the store. Where was the cashier at the front register?

Your phone buzzes.

"Are you the only one in here with me?" you ask.

The woman nods. 

"I don't want to scare you. I just wanted to offer you my card." she says.

She digs into her leather jacker pocket. Out comes a white card. Her hand extends out to you, who is weighting your options. Harry's earlier text buzzes your phone again.

You decide to take the card from her. 

MARIA HILL

xxx-xxxx

When you look up she's gone. And you gets that feeling on the back of her neck. The one you hate feeling. It makes your gut turn and twist. 

You stuff the card into your pocket and unlocks your phone. 

(dirty) Harry

sorry. do you wanna hang out later?

hello??

You press on the phone icon. You pull your phone up to your ear and it starts ringing. He picks up in a few seconds.

"Hey I'm sorry, something really did come up. I didn't mean to bail on you."

"It's fine H, but I think I might have to raincheck you." you answer.

"Ouch."

"Aw, poor baby. You won't believe me but something just came up."

"Uh huh. Well whatever it is, isn't me. So it can't be as amazing." he jokes.

"You're right rich boy. Oh speaking of which when do you leave with your dad for that business trip thing?"

"A few days, after everyone goes on that Europe trip. Why?"

"I was wondering if we could fit in one of our old city trips?" you ask.

"You just want me to use my money to get you into the museum." he says.

"Ah, you know me so well." you laugh.

-

You tucks her phone into your pocket as Harry comes over with churro sticks. He hands one to you while he bits off a mouthful of his own. It makes you look at him in pure concern, because you know that he tends to talk with his mouth full. He calls it resisting the etiquette classes from his childhood.

"Please don't choke on that." you say.

He makes a face, which earns him a smack on the shoulder. Harry holds out his arm and you links it with your own. The two of you begin to walk down the block. It's fairly empty as it's 11am and everyone is either trying to get to work or already there. 

When he finishes off chewing, Harry nudges you a bit with his shoulder. It makes you look up at him, which you often do. It's hard to not look at Harry, he's a pretty boy of course. But as one of a few people who have been up real close to his face, he has freckles. Very faint, but seeable.

"What are you and Miles gonna do with all this free time?" he asks.

You chuckle, "Miles was talking about hanging out with my dad. They've got that bond thing so."

"And you?"

"I'll probably read a book. Or two. And meet up with my friend." you answer.

"Is this friend hotter than me? I meant to ask when you first brought them up, but I figured I should hide my jealousy in front of our other friends." he jokes.

"Yes she is." you answer.

"Damn. I have some competition don't I?" 

You nudge Harry this time as you both end up at the end of the block. At the corner, you two watch two adults with their fingers intertwined and swinging cross the street. You're the one who started looking at them, Harry was looking at you and then followed your line of sight. 

The Osborn knows that one of these days he'll tell you how he feels about you. It wouldn't be a surprise or anything. He flirts with you all the time, and you flirt right back. Harry is just scared that at some point he'll have to share his other secret with you. He knows you knows and you just don't talk about it. But he knows.

So he does the next best thing.

He untangles your arm from his, which makes you look at him. With your focus on him he smiles.

"Can you hold this?" he asks.

You sees his hand formed into a fist and thinks he's talking about his change from the food cart. It wouldn't be the first time he's done this. He liked to make it a habit of letting you 'hold his change' and then he's at home and you're left with a couple of dollars. It's add up so much that you keep a jar at home specifically for him (that he doesn't know about).

You sigh and open your right hand to receive what you think is change.

Harry instead opens his fist and it's empty. He grabs your hand with his and interlocks their fingers. You look at your joined hands, up at him and then back at your hands. You fight back a smile and look dead ahead.

"If you wanted to hold my hand you should've asked."

"Thanks for indulging me anyways."

-

The music from the party blared throughout the apartment. It had to be a high school crossover. Uptown, downtown, midtown. A few kids from upstate and a few from across the turnpike. All packed into two levels of a brownstone. 

Drinks were flowing and snacks were being passed around. At some point someone was handing out caprisuns and it felt like a kindergarten party. Especially when they started shotgunning them.

"Hell I even think someone from Staten Island is here." Harry shouts over the music.

You shake her head, "That doesn't really count." 

You look at each other and share a quick laugh.

The two of you are at a party that only Harry was invited to. It was the night before he left for his trip with his father and he wanted to take the edge off. You knew that he just wanted to pretend for one night that he was normal. So you indulged him. 

You thew on the most festive outfit you had in her closet and met Harry at his place. He had told you to stop doing that, that he could 'send' for you' but you had a thing about using his driver so that was a definite no. 

Harry stood next to you the whole time. He hadn't known anyone personally, but they all seemed to know him. It was normal but it wasn't comfortable as he had put it once to you. Being famous for being the son of someone famous as kinda weird. 

-

The arch that Harry was standing under should have been enough. All the earthquake tips say so. But this wasn't an earthquake. This was an evil man, with alien technology and a point to prove. No one was safe.

You call out, "Harry! Don't move!" 

"If I don't move I'm toast!" he replies.

"Harry-" you begin.

Harry moves. From under the arch he runs to the center of the apartment. The floor has been proven unsteady the moment the fire had started. You weren't sure if it was because the fire had spread to the floor below or not. 

He runs and your perception slows down. It's like someone hit slo-mo on life. And every little detail is for display. The creaking of the floor boards, wood splitting in half. The heat of the fire, the orange glow it has set upon the walls. Harry's eyelashes and his pulsing heartbeat.

It shouldn't happen. It shouldn't be possible. But nothing seems to be impossible anymore. 

Iron man carrying a nuke through a wormhole. Thor, the actual God of Thunder. Sakovia. The Snap. Captain America on the moon.

You reach out- out of fear- to Harry. And his hand is no where near yours, neither is he. You're in one of the corners of the perished living room. He's barely reached the center of it. There should be no way.

But suddenly there is.

You can feel it all at once. It's the goosebumps on your arm. And the tingly feeling. The one you remember from childhood. You used to play with the static on the TV all the time. It was the exact same feeling.

Then his hand is in yours. You can feel it- him. He's shaking. You pull him in, encasing his body in your arms. 

And you do it again. This time, outside of the building. To the safest place you can think of. The pier. 

You let out a breath. Not once did you close your eyes. You were too scared to miss something. Harry did close his eyes though. They opened when he felt the cold breeze and smelt the ocean water. 

"He calls out your name.

He pulls back from you a bit. You're still holding onto him, not letting go. Harry looks around in utter shock. The bench the two of you usually sit at. The street lamp that, by the grace of Loki, is still working after decades. 

"Did I do it- I didn't think I could do it," you start and pulls yourself away from him, "Are you okay? You're not hurt right?" 

You start to examine him. And he's somewhere in-between shocked silence and inappropriate laughing. You cup his face with both hands. He might've lost an eyelash and enhanced a couple of freckles from the flames, but he wasn't hurt. He wasn't hurt.

You exhale.

"You just teleported us out of a fire!" he said.

"I-I know. It's just- I told you not to move Harry! I told you it wasn't safe! Why didn't you listen to me?" you weren't really asking.

Harry takes in a deep breath, "You saved my life."

"I- I saved your life."

-

(dirty) harry 

When I get back from this trip we have to talk about this

it's crazy and insane but we need to talk about it

and thank you again for saving my life

You sent back a message agreeing with Harry and wishing him a safe trip. Then you shut the phone off. Sleeping was going to be rough tonight. How did you save his life exactly? You can't put into words, it's inexplainable. But you could remember the feeling. The static, the fear and hopelessness. 

And then you did something about it.

Is that what you were supposed to do now? Something bad happens and you do something about it? 

You plug your phone into it's charger and rolled onto your back. Staring at the ceiling. It had been weird coming back and your home had been lived in by other people. You had a new room. All of your stuff was given away. There are people in New York that probably have a sweater you cared for dearly. 

The one thing that remained the same was the ceiling. A week after being brought back you recreated the ceiling you used to have in your old room. Glow in the dark stars were your favorite thing growing up. And after the snap it made you feel like not too much had changed.

Your phone buzzes again on the nightstand. You look over at the illuminated screen. You can't tell who it is from this far. You reach out with your arm and grab it.

When your eyes see his contact name you sit up.

(dirty) harry 

I'm at your front door.

"what?" you whisper.

Then it hits you. It's Harry. He's not going to let this go. He's not going to just wait for answers. And he means what he says so he is definitively at your front door.

You get out of bed and throw on a sweater. You open your door quietly as you can and tip-toe to the front door, trying not to wake your parents.

You slowly open the door and peak your head through. There he is. He hasn't even changed out of the clothes he was wearing at the party.

You slip outside and keep the door open a crack.

"Harry? What's going on?" you ask.

He shakes his head, "I don't know it feels like-I just have to say something. I can't just go to bed or go on this trip and not say this to you."

Harry stops for a moment.

You nod your head for him to go on. He lets out a strangled breath. And then you reach out and take his hands into yours.

"Tonight was scary. I mean the scariest feeling I've ever felt because I thought it was over. And not for me, but for you. And if you-if something ever happened to you I wouldn't know how to move on, I wouldn't move on. There is no living without you." he starts.

He raises both of your hands to his mouth and places chaste kisses on the back of your hands. You watch in shock as he does so. How his thumbs brush your knuckles. How close you two are now.

"I have been in love with you for so long it's so annoying. And I needed you to know after you saved my life tonight. I should've said something sooner but I'm saying it now and that's all I've got." he ends.

You forget how to speak. You actually forget the words you've known your whole life and how to use them. He's holding onto you and telling you he is in love with you. He's standing here in front of your house, telling you he's in love with you.

And it's the most Harry Osborn thing you can think of. That his mind was probably running a thousand miles per hour and he couldn't sleep, couldn't leave any of his thoughts for tomorrow. He had to say this now.

"Harry Osborn," you start,

and when you let go of his hands you see him visibly sigh. You hate the look of hurt that flashes across his face. But you know as your hands come up to cup both side of his face that what he's feeling won't last.

"I've been in love with you for a long time too." you say.

He smiles. He actually cracks a smile and then he's chuckling. All of a sudden there is no space between the two of you. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close. Your arms go around him as well.

And in the warmth of Harry Osborn's arms you're glad that spider bit you, so that you could save his life and he could come to your front door and tell you he's in love with you.

-

[guanshentai]

Multi-dose test card automatic assembly production line-how to use the antigen test card?

　　The automatic assembly production line of multi-drug strip test cards is suitable for the automatic assembly and production of various in vitro diagnostic reagents. It adopts European high steel structure; adopts high-performance PLC with touch screen control, which makes the operation easier, and adopts frequency conversion speed regulation, which is more energy-saving; adopts vibration feeding method to significantly improve feeding efficiency; the assembly action is completed and will be inspected, if any Immediately remove missing parts to ensure the quality of finished products; all electrical equipment accessories and pneumatic device accessories of the whole machine are made of well-known foreign brands, with high quality and low failure rate; Bottom card and surface card are automatically conveyed; large board conveying: large board is automatically loaded.

　　How to use the antigen test card?

　　1. Before the self-test, you need to wash your hands.

　　2. After washing your hands, open the kit and read the instructions carefully.

　　3. Check the sampling tube and test card.

　　4. When collecting samples, first blow your nose with toilet paper, carefully unpack the nasal swab, and avoid touching the swab head with your hands.

　　5. Slightly raise the head, hold the end of the swab in one hand and paste it into one nostril, and slowly penetrate backwards along the bottom of the lower nasal passage for 1-1.5 cm (for subjects aged 2 to 14 years, 1 cm deep) and then stick it in The nasal cavity is rotated at least 4 times, and the dwell time is not less than fifteen seconds, and then the same swab is used to repeat the same operation on the other nasal cavity.

　　6. Immediately immerse the swab head into the sampling container containing the preservation solution that comes with the test strip. The swab head should be rotated and mixed in the preservation solution for at least 30 seconds, and at the same time squeeze the swab head through the outer wall of the sampling tube by hand At least five times, squeeze the liquid from the swab head through the outer wall of the sampling tube with your hands, and then discard the swab.

　　7. After the sampling tube is capped, drop 3-4 drops of the liquid vertically into the sample hole of the test card. If you encounter a viscous sample and the chromatography cannot start after adding the sample, you can increase the amount of the drop to 6 drops. , false negative or invalid results may occur if too little solution is added to the test card.

　　8. According to the instructions of the reagents, the results should be read within 15-20 minutes. Less than or overtime readings may lead to wrong results. A positive result shows red or purple bands at both C and T, and a red or purple band at T. The color of the band can be dark or light. A negative result shows a red or purple band at C and no band at T. If there is no red or purple band at C, it does not matter whether there is a band at T , such results are invalid and require resampling for detection.

　　9. There are two ways to deal with the used self-test reagents. The first one is for isolated observers. Whether the test result is positive or negative, all used sampling swabs are put into sealed bags, and the management personnel refer to medical waste or According to the procedures, if the test results of community residents are negative, the test items should be put into sealed bags and treated as general garbage. Institutional disposal as clinical waste.

[tobiogf]

i keep thinking about mean/dom matsukawa issei... just him fucking around with you and being playful and touchy but it just feels really mean

𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

once the coach had clarified the instructions for that day’s lesson, he disappeared into the locker room to retrieve some files and equipment. you jogged over to the bleachers and bent down to choose a heart rate monitor. you’d always hated how old and worn out they looked, knowing they’d been on several other sweaty students before it reached you. you tapped your chin, searching for one that made you the least sick when suddenly you felt a weight right behind you.

“oh fuckkk,” said a voice you immediately recognized as issei, feeling the light touch of his hips against yours for a moment. “that’s right, baby . . . just like that . . . uhhh . . .” you’d straightened up as soon you heard the exaggerated moans leaving his lips and yanked your elbow behind you, shoving him in the chest before whirling around to see his smirking sheepish face, a hand rubbing the sore place on his chest.

behind him stood his friends; iwaizumi was doubled over with laughter, hanamaki was hiding his face, and oikawa was shaking his head with a suppressed chuckle.

“real funny, issei,” you said, glancing up at him with your lips set in a thin line. “fake humping, what are we, middle-schoolers?”

“you probably wished i had no pants on me,” he responded cheekily, watching as you clipped your heart rate monitor onto your wrist. his lips curled into a grin as the numbers quickly increased and you felt yourself blushing. “ahh, yes you did . . .”

“shut up!” you snapped, biting the inside of your lip before jogging away. it was quite embarrassing to have his friends watch but you had to admit, the sounds of issei moaning right beside your ear had sent shivers all throughout your body.

          ***

“whatchu doing?” issei asked, approaching your desk and standing directly in front of you to playfully block your view. you glanced up at him, bored.

“well, i’m trying to finish this assignment before the teacher returns...” you told him, tapping your pen on your paper. “what are you doing? fooling around before the teacher comes back, i suppose?”

issei grinned lazily before producing his vape pen from his pocket and taking a long drag. “just so no one sees,” he whispered to you, smoke leaving his lips in small white plumes. the fruity scent entered blissfully entered your nostrils and you reached your hand out.

“please?” you asked, curling your bottom lip in a pout and issei narrowed his eyes at you before extending the hand that was holding the vape. you smiled and moved to grab it from him.

“mm mm,” said issei with a shake of his head. “open your mouth.” doubtful, but unsurprised, you leaned your head forward and parted your mouth, allowing issei to slide the tip of his vape between your lips. inhaling deeply, you fluttered your eyes up to look at issei, whose own eyes had gone all wistful and glazed.

he removed the vape from your mouth, allowing you to breathe before his fingers raked through the top of your hair and pushed your head back, making you look at him.

“so naughty,” he said before the teacher returned and he was walking back to his desk.

          ***

“hey, y/n,” said issei, slinking up to you after the last class of the day as you were packing up your possessions. “you know how we have to make a database for our cs class?” you nodded your head. “well, could you do that for me?”

“make your whole database?” you asked with a raised brow, digging into your desk to make sure you weren’t forgetting anything.

issei shook his head. “no, just create some table relationships for me.”

“isn’t this your favorite class, though?”

“it issss,” issei said with a quiet groan and set his hands down on the surface of your desk. “i’d do it myself but i told the guys’ i’d go out with them tonight . . . learning it all is gonna take too long and since you’re done with yours . . .”

you sighed, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag as you heavily contemplated swinging it over your shoulder and walking out. the reason you’d finished your assignments early was so you could have some time for yourself. but you felt bad, and issei wasn’t a bad guy. besides, he was pretty cute . . .

“we can stay after school and do it, right here, right now . . . i’ll stay with you,” issei continued, putting more effort into convincing you to help him than he’d ever put in anything else in his life. “and i’ll pay you fifty bucks for it.”

as soon as money became involved, you knew you’d been convinced. “alright, i’ll help.”

issei grinned. “that’s sexy of you. let me get my laptop.”

so that’s pretty much how you ended up practically doing issei’s work for him that afternoon. you both stood at the long desk at the back of the class, your laptops open. issei was mostly occupied with his phone, and you, tired of getting him to pay attention, decided to do it on your own.

“issei, if i’m gonna be creating your table relationships, the least you could do is watch and learn,” you breathed out, exasperated, your eyes still fixed on issei’s laptop screen. issei dropped his phone onto the table and shuffled to stand beside you.

“i am watching,” he said and a moment later, he was lowering his face into the crook of your neck. you felt your heart speed up as you vowed to remain composed, barely blinking as you continued working.

“issei, don’t waste time,” you said, feeling slightly breathless.

“i’m not,” he whined, lips grazing your sensitive skin before standing behind you, body pressed to yours and two hands on your hips as he continued kissing and nibbling your neck. issei was always very touchy with you and it wasn’t something that you minded -- it never made you feel uncomfortable, in fact it was fun . . . and sometimes made your heart flutter sickeningly.

like right now as issei nosed down the back of your shirt and crouched down so he was sitting on his knees, using his large hands to push your skirt up and causing a yelp to leave your lips at the feeling of his soft, yet cold mouth on your inner thigh.

“w-what are you doing, issei?” you gasped out, one hand instantly reaching down to clutch at his hair for support. issei groaned slightly at your actions, the vibrations propelling a swarm of goosebumps to travel up your body.

“getting my money’s worth,” he whispered, his breath ghosting over the already damp cloth of your underwear. you gulped, feeling your back arch instinctively at issei’s low chuckle. “stay still, y/n . . .”

almost fifteen minutes later, your legs were trembling, eyes watery, and cheeks flushed as you tried to catch your breath. you were hunched over the desk, hair in your eyes, as issei tugged his head out from beneath your skirt. he’d licked up your thighs to clean them and was now wiping his chin, his tongue swiping over his lips. you kept your head hung, exhausted from the pleasure, knees jelly-like, but your disoriented mind was coming back into focus and somehow, when issei stood up and wrapped his arms around your body to pull you against him, you had never felt the distance so intensely.

“thank you for letting me do that,” he whispered in your ear, planting a kiss on your jaw before unlooping his arms from around you and shutting the screen of his laptop. your eyes moved slowly, watching him shove it into his bag and throw it over his shoulder. “never mind this assignment,” said issei and then fished into his wallet, producing several bills and tossing them at your face. you flinched, blinking an eye as the paper came into contact with it.

“b-bye,” you murmured dumbly as issei was walking out of the classroom. he paused and gave you a confused sort of smile before shutting the door behind him.

not sure what format this is in and not sure if i’d do this format again but... here it is i guess haha

[ddaenghoney]

chapter one

masterlist link in blog description.

As a successful songwriter, you want nothing more than the acknowledgment that the chart-topping musical pieces are your own creations. But contracts, relationships, and the difficulty of facing the stakes involved head on, keep your mouth shut until pressure builds too much.

Pairing(s): Park Jimin x Y/N, Min Yoongi x Y/N

disclaimer: any characters depicted do not represent the actual personality of the respected idol in real life.

Series warning(s)/genre(s): Chapter-based written fic, Slow-burn relationship(s), Fake-dating, Unrequited love, Songwriter/producer!oc, idol!Jimin, idol/songwriter/producer!Yoongi, friends with benefits, drama, romance, smut, angst, fluff (updated as needed)

Chapter warning(s): none.

Word count: 5013

if you enjoy please, please let me know!

“What if this album has my name in the credits?”

Tension shifts, where idleness and chatting of the choices presented neatly on the table became a new quiet. Glances bore like bullets, burning dots onto your back, shoulders, profile--avoiding the direct stare towards the CEO. She didn’t attend meetings like this usually. Just a divergence from normalcy due to a client canceling and her deciding to check in on the upcoming record for the most famous of the idols in the company.

Jimin’s neck remains still, eyes not focusing down at the copies of songs he was given at the beginning of session. Sitting beside the lady in charge whom only allows her eyes to address your sentence when the silence drifts into awkwardness. Her expression holds elegance, yet firm conviction set within her eyes. No words for another moment, but the ambiance feels reclaimed. No longer disturbed by your interruption of usual affairs.

“Why?”

The table hides your hands as they compress all of the tension into formed balls on your lap. Composed, composed; you left your mouth closed to consider the phrasing. This is owed to you. Your voice wasn’t as loud when you replied, “I wrote the songs.”

“So?”

You bite your tongue by choice. A way to repress more frustration.

“It’s best to keep lyrical credits to the minimum. Jimin’s name and the producers are enough mostly.” She dismisses the idea, while looking back at the papers you spent the past two months typing lines to. Her pen scribbles notes on the margins. Short ones, only a sentence of acceptance, before flipping to a new page.

At the returning conversation of concepts to fit the new album, your hands uncurl. The head stylist talks mindlessly with Jimin’s manager to go over the budgeting for the first music video’s costumes. An intern exits with an order to bring coffee from the breakroom. Your head tilts towards the dark wood, reflective only of a blurry shadow. Barely in your peripherals, Jimin’s hand settles on the table across from you.

His eyes are ready to meet yours when your head lifts back up. Face absent of a smile, but the sympathy in his eyes tells you he holds words at bay. Unspoken.

“What if it’s just one song?” Spoken for yourself.

Jimin’s eyebrows furrow at your continuation, wondering if you were truly unaware of the rolling eyes from those sat beside you. If you thought you could get a different outcome.

“It doesn’t have to be the title track, but one shouldn’t be an issue, right?”

“Your contract doesn’t require me to heed your desires.” The paper held in the CEO’s hand casts beside the stack, flurrying noise for a second. “And it states very clearly that you’re not to be credited. This is for the best interest of the idols.” She doesn’t regard your frowning, completely empty of care as she reaches for her mug.

“But hardly anyone would even notice-”

“Your name adds nothing to the credentials.”

Words evade your throat, while the air in it becomes invasive. It hitches into place, and the door reopens for the intern to walk with her heels clicking on the floor. No one speaks, but the focus on your person is apparent. Jimin’s finger taps once on the table, hesitantly, unassumingly.

You rise from the chair, ignoring the burn in your throat when he stays silent like the rest. But he does watch you exit the room, index finger leading for the others to drag into a fist on the polished table. Your sneakers make little noise as you go across the tile, frustratingly allowing you to hear the CEO thank the intern for more tea.

While you glare at nothing, the frosted glass door became closer. Reaching to pull it, you keep your jaw locked from the anger wanting to fall out, too far from reality to be prepared for the man on the other side. Your body bumps completely into him, a gasping curse whispering from your lips, followed by quick apologies when he steps back from the force. Confused eyes squint at your person as you mutter more about it being an accident, but the call behind you from someone asking what happened causes you to apologetically lower your head. A foot shift to the side of the stiffened man, then you pace down the hallway to the elevators.

“Did she get hurt?” The wheels on Jimin’s chair roll back as he starts to stand. “Or you too, I guess.”

“I’m fine.” Yoongi steps into the meeting room, regarding the CEO with a deeper bow of his head while he shuts the door behind him. “I was just going to ask about the equipment I need moved in my studio. The secretary said this meeting was finished.”

“It is.” Jimin bites his lip as the CEO ignored what just occurred. Signing her name onto the corner of the paper, like she did with the songs she was most favorable of. “Jimin has his title track chosen.” She passes the paper to the manager whose hands are prepared to take the song as though Lee Yerin was gifting him a jewel.

Jimin sits back into the cushion of the desk chair, hands fidgeting on his lap, as he wonders about following you, but he stays. You’re likely to the lobby at this point, and he wouldn’t leave without a cap and sunglasses in the very least. His phone escapes his pocket as he types the passcode, looking up at the CEO as she stands.

“Finish up here if there’s more to say. I’ll go with Yoongi to his studio.”

---

You groan loudly as the automated doors behind you shut. Walking swiftly to the curbside, you begin surveying for a taxi, or a truck to hop into the back of never to be seen again. The one opportunity to speak to the CEO in front of others involved in Jimin’s album and none of them said a word in your favor. Your tongue clicks, waving an arm to catch the attention of a driver. It wasn’t like you truly expected any of them to speak for you, but all the words you prepared for the circumstantial moment crossed your mind. The fluid sentences and reasonings all turned into white noise when you actually willed yourself to attempt opening the gate into the topic. A wonder lingers if you even managed to budge it. Doubtful.

In the taxi, your phone vibrates systematically, and for a moment you worry that it’s someone calling to reprimand your behavior. Taking a breath, you pulled the device from your jeans, internally cursing at the clothing you wore that day. You hadn’t assumed you’d run into Yerin, but now that you had you wished at least that you dressed like someone charismatic enough to argue the credentials. The breath releases as Jimin’s contact I.D. flashes on your screen. The picture behind the notification a memory of an overnight trip the month earlier.

“Hey,” You answer him, turning your head to look at the passing buildings and avenues. “Did anyone say anything?”

“What, no.” He quickly interjects, as he walks down the hallway towards the balcony patio. Jimin says nothing about his manager muttering to the choreographer about the scene. “Did you get hurt bumping into Yoongi?”

“No, but I bet he hates me even more now.” You recall his surprised expression as your body ricocheted off his, as well as the other sparse times you interacted with him so far the past few weeks of his company’s merger with your own. None of them felt entirely positive, but you had other things to think about than his perception-- be it likely annoyed with you or otherwise. “I don’t know what I should do.” You sigh, while your hand grips onto the center armrest during a swift turn.

“I didn’t know you’d say something like that,” Jimin admits his thoughts, while sitting on a cold, metal chair overlooking the intersection six floors below. “Took me by surprise.”

You bite your lip at his softened tone, something about it creating a worry in your stomach, but you ignore it to joke it off. “Always looking for ways to make myself look like an idiot, Jimin. My talent.”

“That’s not true.” He frowns at his boots, free hand picking a loose thread on his sweater. “I just,” Jimin’s voice trails, considering the times this month you mentioned your contract coming to an end in the upcoming summer. Half a year or so away. Or half a year left. “I don’t know what you expected from it honestly.”

The cab comes to a stop in traffic half a block from your destination. You give a payment for the ride and exit early, dodging around the hood of a parked car. His words scrape along your temples, despite their simplicity. You pacify the meaning by attributing candidness.

“Sweetie,” Jimin knows he kicked a nerve, but he feels no desire to rephrase. “Did you go home?”

“No.” You mutter, shoving a hand into your pocket where it fiddles mindless with a tangled earbud wire. “I’m gonna go to Joon’s place for a bit.” You listen to him sigh, thinking it to sound relieved. Likely Jimin worried of your temperament following the incident, but knowing you were willing to go out somewhere public longer gives him a bit of positivity.

“How late will you be there? I think I’ll be able to leave by eight tonight.” The implications of his evident desire to meet blur in your mind. A tone of gentleness leads you to believe Jimin simply wanted to be with you. In the confines of your apartment or his. Where words can be said and actions crossed without a care about the company’s opinion.

“I’ll probably be home before that,” The amounts of paper scattered around your dining table from the past week of scrambling to finish by today’s meeting crosses through your mind. Then the disarray you assuredly left your bedroom in when leaving that morning. “It’s a mess.”

“I don’t care.” Jimin giggles, the sound sweet and healing compared to the previous topics of conversation. “I don’t have a schedule tomorrow,” He pauses, smiling on his end at the thought, “Can I stay over?”

In your mind you know this is one of the situations that you shouldn’t let concoct so simply, when the two of you have time and time again avoided definitions of what goes on between you both, even though it’s evidently deep care, never properly spoken of. You don’t bring it up as you reply in an instant, “Yeah.” And you’re smiling just as warmly as he is with the affirmation.

Your slow walk compliments the energy rising in your voice as the conversation with Jimin about the songs comes up. You bite your inner cheek, listening to him recall particular lines that he especially liked from certain songs. The people moving around you in the busy intercity take no presence, instead just reason for you to absently dodge around. The air skidding blotches against your cheeks is also forgotten, more intent spent on Jimin reinstating that you worked really hard and the pieces reflect that.

“Wow,” Namjoon shifts his jaw rested on his cheek as you enter the front door. “That’s a huge smile.” The phone is already put back in your jean pocket, the jovile goodbye said before you came into his cafe. Or bar, somewhat a bookstore; you still never really understood how he classifies the establishment overall.

“My songs went over well.” You explain giddy in step as you make it to the bar stool and sit onto your spot like usual. Namjoon stands leaning over the counter across from you, letting his employees handle the slow flow of customers at this odd middle hour of the afternoon.

“Like usual?” He raises an eyebrow, voice sufficiently light-hearted, yet sarcastic as though the idea of your work being taken otherwise was alien. “You’ll end up moving to two zipcodes down by the end of the year at this rate. Lucky.”

“Like you don’t rake up practically all the after-party customers from Jin’s club every weekend on top of your always booked party rooms for business lunches.” You watch with a still present smile as Namjoon only shrugs his shoulder. Completely aware that he himself made more than enough money for satisfaction.

“Minoring in marketing was a good idea after all. What can I say?” You both laugh softly, remembering when he would call you after his minor-specific classes to rant to you about how greedy some of the other students ideas were. “So they all got accepted this time around?”

“I’m pretty sure. Maybe not all for Jimin, but they’ll probably get used by other idols too.” You watch as he steps away to listen to your answer. Namjoon fills a few glasses of water to assist an employee scrambling to get enough cups for an abnormally large group just sat down.

“And,” He brushes off the thanks from the employee as she takes the tray of eight glasses before turning back towards you, “Are you going to be credited this time?”

At the question you pause. Curl in your lips straightens out and Yerin’s incontestable, harden statements fill your ears once more. Your finger curls against the gloss of his applewood countertops. You glance down.

“No then.” Namjoon frowns sympathetically, his face now pondering how else to go about changing that fact. He dismisses the ideastorm when you sigh,

“Maybe I should just get over that, right?” You think of years gone by where you didn’t question the lack of recognition publicized for your songwriting. It felt easy to be uncaring of it when you were in college able to pay practically all fees outright because of the massive influx of revenue from the job you weren’t expecting much from to begin with.

“Your contract is up for renewal this upcoming year. Why don’t you try and change the crediting clause then?”

“It...” You know he’s going to get irritated from the completion of your sentence, but you’re unable to stop yourself, “It’s better for the idols already established if it stays this way.”

“Jimin?”

You just bite your lip, unable to view the expression Namjoon has when you could already hear an absence of warmth in his voice. He sighs, reaching to rub his jaw while glancing to the party of business people breaking into laughter at their side of the cafe. He realizes the complexity built between you and Jimin, and feels irritated because he also knows he should’ve said more earlier on to stop it from becoming what it is.

“Other idols too.” Weakly spoken. Namjoon stops a scoff from the fact. “It’s better for the company too. If they end up having to explain why their groups and soloists suddenly stop creating their own songs then it’s going to look bad.”

“Then they can just start writing their own stuff like they’re already pretending to.” Your head perks up from the quickness of his reply, and you watch him adjust his shirt as he starts walking down the bar. “I’ll be right back.”

You release a longer sigh while he goes to chat with the group of patrons. Truth of the matter exists in Namjoon’s cander. Even if you originally were okay with not being involved in the credit, the fact is that so many idols at this point had their names written into the slot instead, pretending to be self-sufficient and creative when more often than not it was all due to your own pen.

“Did you want something to eat or drink, Ms.?” The original waitress tending to the group of businessman stepped towards you with a smile.

“You really don’t have to call me that.” You say for a countless time to the girl whose been working here for more than a year at this point. She knows you’re friends with Namjoon, and granted he’s her boss, but the formality never settles for you. She only shrugs, and you dismiss the idea of changing her ways again. “Just a latte is fine, thanks, Jinsol.”

You’re left with only a few moments to contemplate the song issue before Namjoon returns with a scoff as he rolls his sleeves up his forearms.

“Sometimes I really hate having to be professional.” He mutters, taking his half-empty glass of water and drinking it while you raise an eyebrow. His eyes are still focused with an irritated gleam at the group of men somewhere behind you. You turn on the stool to look back as well, noting their posture is more rigid than you thought it would be from their earlier disposition.

“Jerks?” You ask, facing Namjoon once more. He nods,  

“Have to be creepy when Jinsol’s just trying to do her job.” Namjoon says at a normal volume, easy to hear across the room if they were trying to listen in. He doesn’t care, just places his empty dish into the bin below the counter to be cleaned later. “Anyways,” He averts his gaze back to you, flooding your perception with his determined yet soft stare, “You shouldn’t leave it like it is. You deserve credit. It’s long overdue.”

“If you heard how the CEO shut the idea down, I don’t think you’d be saying that.” You thank Jinsol when she reaches between you both only to settle the ceramic filled with just enough foam in front of you and saunter off once more to the group of businessmen with hot drinks for them as well. “She’s not going to budge.”

“Then quit.”

You laugh even though he’s somewhat meaningful in the option. You’re unable to stop from shaking your head at the incredulousness of the idea. “I’m not that loaded that I can retire already.”

“Go work somewhere else.” Namjoon then offers, watching with his lip dragging between his teeth when you begin frowning.

“Getting a job where I’m at was my lottery, Joon.” You return your eyes to the polish of the reddened wood, “I have nothing to put on my resume for experience that would get me anything great at another company, and trying to work independent sounds like asking for disaster.”

You both loiter in the following silence, Namjoon sympathetic and you annoyed about the entirety of the situation. If back when you sold the first song, disregarding the legality clauses in favor of the couple hundred dollars, you considered the implication of your casualness to the transaction, then maybe when you got a call the following month to go directly to the company for a meeting about further work you wouldn’t have been so easy to convince. Yerin was avid in her praises of the track’s success in the recording session, and you were shocked when she told you there was chart-topping anticipation from it. Of course it felt easy to sign your name on the dotted line when she told you there would undoubtedly be more with continued work.

“Namjoon!” The voice startles you, making your grip tense around the untouched latte. Namjoon huffs in his own surprise, while glaring at Seokjin walking into the establishment and disrupting the overall quiet the place had settled into. “I need to talk to you about the event happening this weekend.” Seokjin continues while you finally take the first sip into the foam atop the espresso. He sits beside you, waving his hand with a smile, “Hey, Y/N, didn’t expect to see you.”

“Just stopped in for a drink.” You smile in return, humored by his casual sweatpants and hoodie despite his position owning the popular club at the corner of the street.

“Spiked?” He raises an eyebrow, knowing the most popular sellers in Namjoon’s coffee selection where those with alcohol hidden in the flavors of vanillas and mochas.

“Maybe it should be.” You sigh, ignoring Namjoon’s rolling eyes. “Don’t let me interrupt your talk, I’m just going to finish this and get out of here.”

“No need to rush; he probably just wants to ask me if he can sleep upstairs.” Namjoon steps to lean against the counter behind him, crossing arms comfortably across his waist. Seokjin points at his statement with a finger, nodding his head,

“That.” You laugh beside him, while Namjoon just scoffs familiarly. “And I wanted to see if there was a meeting room here available that evening for a friend that’s going to be in and out of the club that night.” You gingerly drink at your warm beverage while Namjoon’s head tilts inquisitively.

“You’re not trying to get laid here are you-”

“Clearly not.” Seokjin rests his chin on his palm, “Why would I try for that on your tables anyways? People I don’t know have eaten on them.” You nodded at the fact beside him, thinking the reasoning made sense while Namjoon cut in incredulously,

“That is the only issue with it? I keep the tables clean.”

“It’s not about sex anyways!” Seokjin shuts down in a firm exclamation. You glance back at the businessmen who were evidently confused about the conversation between the two beside you. You take a larger gulp, more than halfway through with the latte at this point, and ready to skip out to avoid whatever your friends were about to discuss blatantly. “The guy just wants a place to chill in between time spent at the club.” He goes on, the motions with his hands emphasizing the need for Namjoon to accept. “I kind of owe him, and you kind of owe me--” Namjoon opens his mouth before Seokjin’s arm shoots out into the air to silence him, “Actually! Let’s all pretend we don’t owe each other anything and do things like this out of the goodness of our hearts.”

“I like that you changed the reasoning halfway through.” Namjoon laughs, rubbing his jaw, pondering the request silently until you speak up,

“I’m going to head out.” The two turn their heads towards you as your cup clacks gently against the saucer. You slide off the high chair, as Seokjin comments curiously,

“Some of the people from your work are going, you too?” You grimace which is answer enough for him as he begins laughing from your reaction. “Come on though; weekend before New Year’s should be sort of fun, right?”

---

Your pen makes dots in the corner of crisp paper. Feet dangling from your seat, while you think of the upcoming weekend. Jimin would more likely than not go to the club if a lot of the other employees were. Whether he actually had an interest in attending events like those or not, you weren’t entirely sure. Obligation seemed to be the word, but you doubted he hated it entirely as you recall other parties and team bonding experiences the two of you had ended up at. He was amicable with all of them, friendlier to particular people, but you’ve never known anyone to have problems with him.

Though you were never really needed at those occasions.

“Working on something?” Jimin’s voice is close, then in your vision as he leans over your shoulder to look at the unstarted piece. “Or not?” He giggles when you groan, resting your head back against his shoulder. His skin glows from the revitalization of a shower, and his locks of hair are still stuck together in their dampness.

“I was going to start something, but then I started thinking about random things.” You shrug, but smile as his lips find your cheek in a soft kiss.

“That’s fine. You should take the night off from it all anyways,” His hand tangles over yours to cause the release of the pen from your appendage. “Want to watch a movie, or something?”

“Okay,” You adjust on the chair, pecking his lips with your own, leaving them to see a smile as you continue, “Let me go take a shower too though; kind of need it.” He chuckles, kissing you again longer, his thumb rubbing gently against your knuckles,

“Should’ve took one together,” Jimin states with playful bluntness, while you get up from your chair. You eye him knowingly. He is completely aware of how far away the concept of a shower would’ve drifted if you both went in following an already lustful exchange on the mess you left your bed in. “Save water.” Innocent smile, that didn’t match the gleam in his eyes.

“Yeah, that’s why.” You pat his chest, leaving your hand there when he catches it. His stare falls over your figure: legs extending bare beneath his button-up shirt that he had entered the apartment wearing.

“You’re really beautiful, you know that?” Jimin steps closer, and you do nothing to stop gentle ministrations of his lips on yours. Followed by a scattered trail on every inch of heated, fond skin, fueled from your fingertips flexing against his abdomen and the light gasp when the plumpness of his mouth passes over an already sensitive reddened blotch on your neck. He squeezes your waist, wrinkling the fabric uncaringly while his lips remain there, only pressing a lingering kiss. You bite your lip, a sigh drifts out when he moves again, finding your collarbone, all too close to the rising beat of your heart. “Movie?” He asks then nips gingerly with his teeth to smirk as you writhe. Your nails drag against his firm muscles and he groans against you.

“Yeah,” You say in a breath, though your legs tremble slightly from his actions and the ones already transpired. “I want to spend time with you.”

“Yeah?”  Jimin’s voice comes out in grain, seeming happily surprised by your statement. Your body presses to his as he hugs you, smiling against your shoulder. “You’re adorable,” A whisper lost on your skin. The embrace tightens as your arms make it around his waist. “Movie it is then.”

In a matter of a half hour, you exit your bathroom cozily engulfed in an old shirt and sweatpants to find Jimin stretched on the bed. His fingers tap quickly against his phone, focus aiming at whatever app was open. You sit beside him, reaching over his waist for the package of cookies retrieved from the kitchen.

“Work?”

“One of the members of the group that just debuted over the fall,” He explains, glancing to you with a humored grin as you fit the entirety of the small sweet into your mouth. “Don’t choke.”

“Don’t eat all of my cookies.” You counter between crunches, a hand straying to glide rifts in his brightly pink hair.

“I can’t help it; the package was open, and they were there, how was I supposed to stop?” His head leans into your hand. Jimin tosses his phone beside him. “Anyways, he wanted to know if I was going to the club thing this weekend.”

“Are you?” You ask before thinking. Something about the event seemed distant from you, unspoken of by the colleagues you run into around the company. Dodged from your ears perhaps. Jimin shrugs as he moves to snake arms around your waist and puzzle himself against you.

“Yeah, because a lot of the people from the company merging with ours are going. My manager thinks it’d be a good way to get connected with them all.” His fingers are light in their strokes along your back, a yawn slipping from his lips while your nose finds purchase nuzzling peacefully against his neck. “What about you, darling? Are you going to join me?”

Your mind startles from Jimin’s inquisition, unbeknownst to him as he continues in massaging streams along your back. While time and time again you attended company and social functions where he would go, and the same vice versa, neither of you brought up events in a way that implies going as a couple. Because you and Jimin are not.

“Like go to it with you?” Your voice tests the connotation of his words in a murmur that you hope he doesn’t hear any longing in. You’re aware of the reality, you don’t hide from it or ignore it, so you wonder why your throat feels hollow in the way it did at the meeting that day when Jimin answers,

“We can meet up there.”

You smile. The same page. You read the outcome before Jimin spoke it. The relationship has always been on the blur for each other’s benefit. The emotional attachment ends at platonic, and other occasional circumstances are in the moment for fun. The way it’s always been since you made the rule to counter the shock in Jimin’s eyes more than a year ago at this point.

“Dunno if I want to go.” Less so at his offer. You believe it unfair to think in this way, but on the same list of why not attend the party you recall the blemish in your reputation currently sporting from your attempted divergence from normalcy that noon. Like you needed the stares from other employees.

“I,” Jimin says then stops, biting his inner cheek. You hear the hesitation and glance up at him to view his eyes cast aimless at your ceiling. Clouded mind. You lift yourself from his loosened hold, locking gaze when he checks to see what you’re doing. With your forearm stabilizing a small portion of your weight against his chest, you lean pecking his lips with your own. He remains quiet, watching and wondering if you possibly missed his almost sentence despite the stillness of your apartment. You kiss again, more languid and drawn out, letting time carry the word away from the present.

“Let’s watch something funny.” You bring back the movie topic, smiling as you raise yourself to search for the remote. “Or I’ve been kind of wanting to rewatch The Incredibles, is that fine?” You take his soft chuckle as affirmation before he says yes a second later, and your eyes keep focus on the television when you turn around.

Coaxing the sealed words out of him isn’t worth the argument, or worse.

if you enjoy please, please let me know! i hope you enjoy the series, i’m working really hard on it! : )

tag list (send an ask to be added): @jaiuneamesolitaiire​​​

[thedeeperlayer]

I was fourteen when I first tasted the sweet, aromatic blend of tobacco, sugars, and ammonia compounds. It was 1998. The year of Clinton and Lewinsky. The year the guy from Die Hard was saving the Aerosmith-adjacent Earth from a Michael Bay Meteorite. 

I was fourteen. Instead of navigating the intolerable 3D world of Hyrule in Ocarina of Time, I was out making an imprudent moron out of myself with an RCA Solid State Image Sensor VHS Camcorder. My idiotic entourage and myself thought we were the uproarious epitome of cool. In actuality, we were ridiculous, annoying fuckwits. I was an absolute pain in the ass.

I'm not going to cock and bull with excuses. I started smoking because I thought I was fucking cool. I had older friends that did it and I dated girls that did it. When my mum found out I was flicking the Bic on the cancer stick, she was both disappointed and somewhat content. Her contentment for my lung corruption behavior was only because it meant she now had a smoking mate.

Mum and Pops didn't always have a harmonious relationship. They would cross swords and oppose each other's views a lot. Mum would complain about Pops never being home. Pops would bewail mum's smoking habit. It was always constant repetition down the same path. Dad never knew I smoked. He would of berated mum and blamed her if he ever found out.

Because of our shared toxic pastime, my mum and I became very close. We discussed all things life. Everything from grace and elegance to the septic shithole bottom. We talked about atrocious dislikes and stupefying satisfactions. We told mindless jokes and gave deep-thought opinions. 

For the sake of storytelling length, let's just say we always had each other's back. 

Unfortunately, the clock ticks, and the hours pass. In a blink of an eye, things are different. I grew up. I got married. I moved. Mum was downhearted and sad. I was the first of her children to leave from beneath her roof. 

I've worked lousey, shit jobs just to make ends. It is indeed accordance with fact, smoking does alleviate stress. I didn't think it was cool to smoke anymore, instead I smoked because my shitty job was an emotional mindfuck. Pounding the coffin nails down my throat made me feel better. 

I didn't want to poison my saclike respiratory organs anymore. I tried quitting. I tried the gum that supposedly calms cravings. I tried the rubber band wrist snap when I had the desire. I tried the ridiculous electronic substitutes. Nothing worked. I thought, fuck it. I didn't want to grow old and become one of the dust bags that retire in Florida anyway.

It was October, 2015. I was just finishing a much needed break from my mediocre job. My phone vibrated in my pocket. It was mum calling. I contentedly answered it. 

She said she had a mass on her lungs. She told me not to be worried, it could be pneumonia. She said she would let me know more tomorrow. 

I instantly broke down and wailed. I could feel that something was extraordinarily wrong. My heart was in excruciating pain. It was exceedingly difficult to finish my shift that night. Every time I was alone, my eyes would swell. It was a long, tedious night.

The following day, I anxiously waited for mum to call. 

Haplessly, she called right before I had to go to work. She said it was stage 4 lung cancer. She told me not to worry. She said she was going to get help. I knew stage 4 was the inevitable. It's treatable, but not curable.

I was so heartsick.

I lit cigarette after cigarette.

My family was devastated. Mum is the support beam that holds my lunatic family's structure together. My brother and sister were in severe shock. Pops was completely shattered. 

The following week, my wife and I picked mum up from the hospital. She was being fitted for a radiotherapy mask. Mum was spiritless. She lacked vigor and enthusiasm. She looked defeated. This was the one time I convulsively, and uncontrollably sobbed in front of her. If you knew mum, she was always resilient and enduring. She was wholehearted, and a matriarch to many. It was challenging to see her in that frail condition. 

I lit cigarette after cigarette.

Mum had sort of a short fringe hairstyle with spiky bangs. She would ornament it with a decorative headband. Often she would dye it golden or honey blonde to hide the off-putting grays. 

The days passed. Weeks. My wife and I made frequent visits. Mum was sitting in her recently purchased stationary style comfy chair. She was wearing a sun-style flat brim cap. Mum never wore hats. “I'm losing my hair,” she said. She lifted a grocery sac where she was accumulating a large cache of her hair. 

Eventually Pops shaved her head. 

My wife and I purchased her a collection of hats.

The holidays came. Thanksgiving. Christmas. Mum always took pride in cooking the meals. She couldn't anymore. She was too weak. She could hardly walk. It was now Pop's responsibility to  prepare the brown sugar glazed ham. She shouted out the recipe to him in the kitchen. “Heat the honey and sugar until it dissolves!” Pops would earnestly urge her not to yell. She was always short-winded and depended on oxygen gas to breathe.  

Christmas morning was grim. Mum kept saying she wanted to have a nice Christmas. “This might be my last Christmas. I want it to be nice,” she despairingly would say. 

We wore smiles but they were fraudulent. Inside we were somber. Cheerless. Gift exchange was dispiriting. We were appreciative, but it was hard to express it. The only audio in the room was the pulling and shredding of novelty wrapping paper. We played unintellectual board games while Mum sat in the living room and stared at the TV. The Hallmark holiday collection was on but Mum wasn't interested. She was disconnected, absent of response. 

My wife and I went home. I lit cigarette after cigarette.

January came and went. February came. Mum had gotten worse. We went to visit her on my birthday. She was without emotion. Unresponsive. Pops struggled to make her recognize my company. She was comatose-like. Pops was in a panic. We rushed her to the ICU. She now had malignant brain tumors. Her recent actions were symptoms. The drowsiness. The constant agitation. 

She was given enough treatment to restore her moral senses. She asked to see me and my wife. Mum was stretched out on a hospital cot. She was buried beneath intravenous lines and hoses. She saw us and smiled. “Watch this,” she gently said. She proceeded with plucking the pulse oximeter from her finger to mortify the doctors. She still had her sense of humor. 

Later, Nurse Ratched impertinently pulled my family away from Mum. She disrespectfully spoke of Mum's unavoidable fate. Ratched told us that Mum will die. She told us to make sure we make the correct decision when the time comes. 

No one in my family wanted to hear that. 

The hospital discharged Mum.

My wife and I went home. I lit a cigarette. I took a drag, hardly inhaling. I breathed in a few more. 

I delve into searches about the great demise on Google. I’m not one who appreciates surprises, so I wanted to be hauntingly prepared. 

As the end approaches, your role is to be present, provide passionate comfort, and remove doubts from your loved one with soothing words and loving actions that help maintain their mental ease and dignity.

The entire evening I fixedly scrutinized my phone screen. It made me overwhelmed with grief. It put me in an unsettling place. It was that night that I accepted that my Mum was actually going to be gone.

Her condition continued to worsen.

It was difficult for her to digest food. She no longer could intake any solids. Pops couldn’t accept the harshness of the situation. He was in rack and ruin. Blatantly, he would hurry to the nearest fast-food establishment and order her a strawberry milkshake. In double time he would speed home to give her the malted treat. She would fiercely vacuum in the strawberry drink through a straw. Clearly she was hungry, but her gasping, pain and abnormal breathing patterns made it difficult for her to swallow. 

Pops told me, the prior evening, he strenuously got Mum into the loo. He proceeded to aid her, however she immediately denied his assistance. “Let me help you,” he despairingly said. “But you're a boy and I'm a girl,” she woefully baffled. 

Delirium. One of the common symptoms observed near death. 

Pops was hysterical. This unforeseen responsibility was so unfamiliar to him. He was terrified. He was frightened to lose the one person he spent his entire life with. 

Again he rushed her to intensive care.

My wife and I were at home. I lit a cigarette. I took a drag and quickly put it out.

Mum was denied anymore treatment. She was recommended hospice care and medically necessary equipment for at-home use. 

Pops thought hospice may not only be valuable to Mum, but also beneficial to him because the workers could assist him through the inexperience and unexpected. We all knew what misery and despair would come next, but Pops was in a idiosyncratic denial. 

Hospice was fucking useless, but more on that a little later.

My wife and I visited her everyday. 

Each day she worsened and disintegrating. 

She was often confused. She would appear asleep, but her breathing would be noisy, congested. She would appear peaceful and at rest, and within seconds she would begin screaming. She would holler agonizing cries. Dad would have to pump her with morphine to tranquilise her treacherous pain.

Day after day, her conditioned intensified. Her skin's pigment distorted to a grayish tone. Her face had depressed and sunken below her eyes. Her lips dried up and shriveled. 

The drainage bag connected to the catheter began to fill with a rust color. 

She had abnormal growths swell in unusual parts of her body.

Day after day we visited. She no longer would move. The congested breathing was the remaining sign of life. We attentively watched over her like this for days. She didn't want to go. She dearly loved her family. The Oncologist asked her, “what do you live for?” Her response was so straightforward and emotionally rewarding. She said, “my family”. Mum was uncomplicated. She lived to be a loving mum and caring wife. She always put her family first. That's who she was. 

She died on August 22, 2016. She battled cancer for seven months. She spent nearly four weeks in hospice care. Only four short instances was Hospice workers available for aid, one of the times being immediately after death. The available nurse plucked an orange Marigold from the neighbors’ garden and lied it in my Mum's cold hands. She called the Funeral Home to coordinate arrangements for pickup and hastily left. 

It was a horrifying experience for my family. Not only for us observing every nightmarish minute, but for Mum too. I can't imagine how afraid she was and how she felt. I just hope it wasn't guilt that resonated with her in her final days. She was the reason my family was so profound and passionate about things. The reason we were all there, again and again, expressing our sorrow and love together.

I haven't smoked a cigarette since her later days in hospice care. 

She was a beautiful, loving person, and we watched her severely weaken and diminish largely because of a lifelong bad habit. I never want to put anyone I love through that, ever again.

[inkbloodpaperandbone]

So this is a follow up to this drabble that is also cross posted on my ao3 account here

On the anniversary of the tsunami Buck gets a new tattoo. This time Eddie and Christopher go with him.

It's been three months since Eddie all but jumped Buck in the station's changing room, unable to hold back his feels upon seeing his son's drawing on his now boyfriend's skin.

It's funny but in hindsight not all that suprising how well they've transitioned from best friends to lovers. It's not exactly smooth sailing, no relationships ever are but in a way very little has changed. Only more kissing and umm other stuff.

In the week leading up to the first anniversary no one at work has braved speaking of the upcoming event. It's a date that marks a extremely traumatic time for both men, and Bobby - both the station captain being cautious about any potential risk of having the two at work on such a emotionally charged day and Bobby the friend, wanting to allow them time for themselves to - had given the two men the day off.

Neither had protested.

The city of LA still bore the scars of that fateful day in the streets and sidewalks of the most affected areas. In the buildings still under construction and renovation to repair the damage left by the water and debris. As the date drew closer new memorials for the dead and the missing where remade. But LA and it's people were healing. No matter how slow.

 

They're healing too, this little family of three they've created Eddie thinks on the morning of the anniversary as he watches Christopher cheerily eat rice crispies giggling around each mouthful whilst Buck dramatically throws away the toast Eddie burnt and proceeds to make more. It's a scene he's seen almost everyday now for the past couple of months but it hasn't gotten old yet.

Christopher still had nightmares, although they were becoming fewer and further between. He was still going to therapy and had even begun swimming again. In the shallow end clinging to his dad or Buck but it's progress.

Since learning that Buck had gotten a tattoo of his drawing Christopher has steadily been filling the Diaz household with new tattoo designs. Crayons and markers have been worn down to unusable stubs and there probably isn't a shred of paper that hasn't been doodled on.

Eddie doesn't mind, and has found himself perusing the arts and crafts section of the local superstore, Buck in tow for new supplies.

The news Buck getting a tattoo in reminder of surviving the tsunami (and the subsequent upheaval of the lawsuit, Eddie's fight club drama and the actual work of just dealing with it all) came during the billionth rewatch of Finding Dory with Buck confiding to Eddie in a low voice as not to disturb Christopher who was lodged between them fast asleep on the sofa, that he was thinking of asking Christopher to draw it.

Of course Christopher took to the task with all the enthusiasm a nine year old could muster- which was a lot.

He and Christopher had spent several nights after dinner huddled around the coffee table surrounded by paper and crayons working on it.

The end result wasn't anything elaborate or big - in keeping with the rest of Buck's tattoos.

Buck had also suggested that they made a day of going to the tattoo parlor on the tsunami's anniversary, to replace a bad memory with a good one.

Christopher finishes with his cereal, he rinses out the bowl as Eddie's taught him before hurrying off to get ready for their outing. Both Buck and Eddie where already dressed, Buck looking over the final design fondly as they wait in the lounge.

The design was three small fishes swimming in a wave.

There's been around ten different versions before now, but Christopher has become somewhat of a perfectionist and had deemed each preceding "not right" and thrown away.

Christopher has been telling everyone, friends, family, school teachers, random strangers in the street, everybody, that he's going to be a tattoo artist when he grows up.

Secretly Eddie worries that Chris will be heartbroken if this latest career dream doesn't pan out, although Christopher is likely to change his mind soon enough. He is nine after all and it's less frightening than his kid wanting to be a firefighter or astronaut. The thought of his little boy millions of miles away in outer space - nope not happening, no way.

Christopher's dexterity is good for a child his age with CP, his handwriting is improving and his art - though Eddie is definitely basis - is great for someone his age. Who knows. Maybe.

Christopher emerges from his room a suspiciously full backpack slung over his shoulder. Buck takes it from him and peers inside. When he shows the contents to Eddie, he can't help but laugh. Christopher has crammed a box of crayons, a paper pad, several power rangers and a couple of handfuls of Lego in side.

Buck slips the folded design inside before scooping up Christopher to carry him to Eddie's truck.

Eddie follows locking up behind him.

The drive to the tattoo parlor is a short one - well short for LA, only a little traffic since the morning rush hour has long since died - they arrive twenty minutes before the booked appointment, Christopher audibly excited as the truck pulls up.

The parlor is situated between a fancy free weight gym and a organic vegan coffee shop, it's larger than Eddie expected, there's a huge mural of flowers and birds in mixed styles reaching out over the shop front.

Glass doors lead into a spacious waiting area with a floor to ceiling shelving unit decorated with action figures and retro toys acting as a divider between said area and the actual work space.

Christopher drags his dad over to the shelves for a closer look whilst Buck confirms his appointment with the cheery receptionist a young guy with a purple mohawk and tattoos on every exposed bit of skin besides his face, he introduces himself as Luka and directs them to the couch to wait on before hurrying off to fetch their artist.

Both Buck and Christopher are practically vibrating in excitement. It's cute Eddie thinks as he ruffles his son's curls.

Chris has got the design stored in his backpack along with his latest sketchbook and some crayons to keep himself entertained. The little boy rummages through his bag whilst they wait, occasionally shoving unwanted items into Buck's waiting hands until Chris triumphantly pulls out his drawing.

"Is this the famous Christopher?" A lilting voice calls out. The owner, a short women probably in her mid-forties, the visible skin of her arms and legs adored with flowers and Disney characters, comes into view around the dividing wall.

She hurried over hugging Buck before turning to Eddie, hand out in greeting, they shake hands quickly. "I'm Mara, you must be Eddie, and you must be Christopher."

She shakes Chris hand too making him giggle.

"Well let's get this show on the road."

Lead into the main shop, Eddie looks over the room, more tattoo inspired murals cover the walls, one of which has a large flat screen TV hanging from it. There are three workstations with cushioned benches, wheeled stools and a desks. One station is already occupied, the burring of an ink gun travels the room.

Mara's station is already partly prepped, the bench and it's adjoining rests wrapped in plastic, several ink bottles line up along the desk. As she sets up her equipment Mara explains each step to Eddie, Buck and Christopher, although Eddie notes that she's directing the conversation to his son. Chris is utterly enraptured by it asking questions and peering closer.

Buck sits down on the bench rolling up his t-shirt sleeve to his shoulder. Eddie takes a seat on one of the free chairs, beside it, laying a hand on his boyfriend's thigh. Christopher comes over and Eddie picks him up to set Chris on his knees.

Christopher's backpack and crutches are leant against the leg of the second chair out of the way.

Mara demonstrates to Christopher how his drawing is printed on to a transfer sheet, " Like the temporary tattoos you can get with sweets,"  she explains, " it'll let me trace the design with my gun so it'll match perfectly with your drawing."

Mara, sitting on her stool, scoots up the side of the bench to were Buck is waiting.

"Okay Christopher now I'm going to wipe Buck's arm.." Buck makes a face at Chris as Mara does so causing the little boy to laugh.

"...where the tattoo will go so that the skin is all nice and clean and then we press the transfer paper on like so.."

The transfer paper is pressed to the inside of Buck's right bicep, Mara rubbing the paper to get it to stick down smoothly.

"Hold that there sweetie." She tells Buck as she moves to ready the ink gun with the first needle before turning back to Buck and starts removing the transfer.

"Now we peel it back and the design should now be on Buck's arm." Mara explains shooting a grin at Eddie and Christopher.

It looks really good already" Christopher chimes as the design comes into view.

"Sure does buddy." Buck agrees flexing his bicep like an old fashioned boxer, Eddie rolled his eyes, good god he loves this dork.

There's a part of Eddie that is still scared by how much love he feels for the man in front of him. Scared by how deeply that love has rooted it's way into his heart.

Eddie has had only three great loves in his life, Shannon, Christopher and now Buck. And each love is very different. Shannon was his first love, a highschool sweetheart turned wife and mother of his child. Despite their estrangement, their fumbled reconciliation and her untimely death that love still lives, though it no longer romantic in nature. A nostalgic love, a remorseful love but still love all the same.

His love for Christopher is all consuming. It is fierce and unbreakable. The love of a parent, wildly protective and proud. A love that for a long time was the only real thing Eddie felt he could show the world. Not just another role to play. Another title add to the list, like dutiful son, loving husband, war hero veteran, firefighter etc, etc.

His love for Buck grew out of the kind of friendship Eddie hadn't had since childhood, an easy friendship (despite the rocky start) that filled in the cracks left by Shannon's abandonment, his parents disapproval, the stress of single parenthood.

It grew as Buck began nudging his way into the life Eddie and Christopher were building in LA.

It grew from Buck introducing him to the godsend that is Carla Price. It grew from the endless random trivia Buck spouted. It grew from their seamless partnership on calls, from joking around with their friends.

Most importantly it grew from Bucks devotion to Christopher, his ability to work out ways to make that little boy laugh, to work out ways to help Chris do the things other kids could do. To have Christmas with his dad despite work. From Buck's sheer desperation to find and protect Christopher during the tsunami to his utter relief he was found alive and unharmed. The fact he loves Christopher so much he didn't think twice about getting a tattoo of a silly little doodle just because.

Eddie thinks of this love as Buck holds his arm still whilst another of Chris' drawings is permanently etched into his skin.

All in all the whole tattooing process doesn't take long given the size and simplicity.

Christopher has charmed Mara and her fellow colleagues who come over to say hi and is reaping the benefits of being a cute nine year old as the adults scramble to accommodate his every whim from choosing what to watch on the TV to being set up at a spare desk to draw when he gets bored to getting a chocolate milkshake from the café next door when the parlor's intern goes on a coffee run.

Eddie hopes Chris will never use his cuteness for evil but doesn't protest the spoiling.

Buck turns out to be terrible at sitting for a tattoo. He fidgets and winces. Makes faces and keeps nearly distracting Mara with random questions and jokes.

But Mara is clearly used to this, barely batting an eye and steadily working on.

When the last of the ink is applied and the the excess is wipe away she gives them a chance to look over the work.

It looks good even as the skin starts to redden, Buck is grinning from ear to ear.

"Pretty great huh Chris"

"Yuh huh." Christopher nods excitedly as he scrambles in for a closer look, hand reaching out to poke at it.

"Does it hurt?"

"It does if you poke it buddy." Christopher jerks his hand back.

"Sorry."

Buck laughs and pulls Christopher into a one armed hug, he looks over the boy's head and gestures to Eddie who moves to join in as Mara comes back to finish wrapping up Bucks arm.

She gives him a well rehearsed run down of after care, joking that she knows Buck knows what to do but that she also knows with his luck it's best to be on the safe side.

By the time Christopher's things are cleared away back into his backpack, buck has already paid.

Christopher shuffles shyly up to Mara and hands her a bit of paper. It's a drawing of a tattoo gun, a bit wobbly but clearly it's meant to be a tattoo gun.

Eddie watches as the woman smiles, a little teary eyed and thanks his son proclaiming the drawing will have to be hung up somewhere in the shop.

Christopher preens.

The day's still young as the trio get back into the car, Buck suggests getting some ice cream which Christopher enthusiastically agrees. Eddie knows that ice cream on top of a chocolate milkshake will mean trouble come bed time. But how can he resist the double whammy of both Christopher and Buck's pleading eyes.

They'll be the death of him for sure.

But Eddie doesn't mind.

Today maybe the anniversary of one of the worst days of their lives, but so far it's been pretty great.

So they go and get ice cream. Christopher will make a monstrousitity of chocolate, whipped cream, sprinkles and gummy bears he won't be able to finish. But will get brain freeze from eating his too quickly and will pester Eddie for kisses to make it better. Eddie will pretend to be annoyed but secretly enjoy his boyfriend's silliness.

Today will officially become a cheat day when Buck orders from their favourite Chinese restaurant too tired to cook after running around the backyard with Chris for hours after they get home.

And when Christopher has finally crashed and has been tucked into bed Eddie will grab a couple of beers and they'll sit and watch nonsense on TV.

It'll have been a good day, better than expected but nothing majorly special. Just the three of them, together happy and healthy and whole.

And if Eddie is honest he can't imagine anything better.

Tagging @evaneddie I finally posted yay!

[thenoammonster]

“A Fresh Start” Part II

BACK WITH ANOTHER CHAPTER! This one has actually been mostly done for a while, but I didn’t want to cut it off at the knees and life got busy before I could finish it. I’m hoping I’ll be able to start updating more regularly now that I have a little more spare time.

Part I

Part II

Kagome awoke to the sunlight streaming in across her face from the living room windows. Groaning, she shifted around a bit, trying to get comfortable again, but it was too bright in the apartment for her to have any hope of getting back to sleep. Finally admitting defeat, she gingerly sat up, realizing how sweaty she had become through the night. Her t-shirt clung to her like a second skin, and a hesitant sniff to her armpit revealed she was in desperate need of a shower. A quick check to her phone revealed that it was still well before 9am. She was appalled to note how hot the apartment had already become this early in the day. 

‘Damn east facing windows,’ she noted, dragged herself off the couch and lumbering over to the pile of boxes she’d left by the bathroom door the night before. She snatched the little toiletry bag she had prepared off the top box before forcing a hand between the taped up flaps of cardboard, trying to pry the box open without having to bother with digging up her pocket knife. After a few minutes of fumbling and wriggling, she successfully yanked her hand free of the box with a fluffy yellow towel gripped in her fist. “Success!” Grinning lightly, she spun into the bathroom, humming to herself as she got into the shower and began getting ready for the day. 

It was Saturday so the clinic wouldn’t be open. She and Sango had a plan to meet downstairs at 10:30 so she could familiarize herself with the space and start learning how it was run. The clinic was already staffed by Sango, Kaede, and two others to run the office who Kagome had yet to meet. 

Sango was a physical therapist and certified nurse. She and Kagome had met when she was in medical school and Sango was doing her nursing training. The two had been very close for years, even through Sango’s meeting and eventual marriage to Miroku, and Kagome’s residency at a big hospital back in the city. 

After Kagome had officially finished her training and received her medical license a month ago, she was thrilled to learn that the little clinic where Sango worked had an opening. Sango had been at the Shikon Clinic since a few months into their marriage, she and her husband decided to move back to his home town a few hours from the city so he could inherit his Uncle Mushin’s old bar. Kagome had instantly fallen in love with the quiet neighborhood and adorable work space when she had first visited Sango after the initial move two years ago. 

When the opening came up she jumped at the chance of getting out of the noisy, crowded city she had inhabited for her entire life in favor of a more peaceful existence. Choosing to become a doctor had always been about helping people for her, but her residency had changed her definition of the job. Working in the city was all short visits with too many patients for too many hours a day. She always felt stressed and exhausted at the end of her days, like she hadn’t had the time necessary with her patients to really make an impact. Working in a small town meant she would get the chance to really know her patients, to make sure she could spend the time necessary to give them the best care she could. It was an ideal setup, since thanks to public transport she was still only a two hour train ride away from her family.

By the time she was ready to meet up with Sango, Kagome was practically buzzing with excitement. She couldn’t wait to start working as part of her very own practice. When her phone vibrated with a message announcing Sango’s arrival, Kagome burst from her front door, nearly bowling over Kaede as she was watering the plants beside her front door. She waved cheerily at the older woman, grinning widely, “Good morning, Kaede!”

“That it is, child. I hope you were comfortable enough in there last night.”

Kagome waved her hand idly to dismiss the other doctor’s concerns, “Oh it was just fine. The rest of my stuff should be delivered sometime today anyway, then I’ll be all set, I think. If not, I’ll just pick up some stuff at one of the great antique shops around here.”

“Oh good, good. Let me know if you do need any furniture, the boy from –” Their conversation was interrupted by a shout from down below.”

“Get a move on Kagome! Your coffee is getting cold!”

With a quick apology goodbye to Kaede, Kagome ambled down the stairs of her porch to meet Sango in the gravel lot behind the clinic. She grinned at the sight of her friend, leaning against the hood of her sedan with two to-go cups and a little brown bag clutched in her hands.

“Hiya girly! How’s your morning going?” Kagome asked, reaching to take the cup Sango offered. “Yes, coffee! Thank you!” Inhaling the warm, bitter scent, Kagome quirked a brow at her friend, “What, no treats for dear Doctor Tenaka?” 

“Kaede hasn’t touched coffee since last century,” Sango replied, waving up at the older woman in question before Kaede disappeared back into her flat.  “You’re chipper this morning. Glad to see sleeping on the couch didn’t stop you from resting up last night!” She pushed the paper bag at Kagome as well, “Here, it’s a muffin from Jinenji’s, you remember the little cafe I took you to last time you visited?”

“Ooh, the one run by the big guy who grows fruit and makes his own jam? Score!” 

As Kagome tore into her breakfast, moaning appreciatively at the still warm and scrumptious snack,  she and Sango proceeded into the clinic from the back entrance. They walked down a narrow hall, one of the two that ran through the building, until it met with the waiting room at the front. Pausing at the door that led to the little atrium and the very front door of the clinic, Sango began her tour, taking Kagome through the building in much greater detail than she had during her friend’s previous visits. She showed her the little office to the right of the front door, where the clinic’s two assistants did their administrative work, the larger exercise room where physical therapy patients did their exercises, and beyond that into the little office that they would be sharing. She demonstrated how to use the practice’s digital filing system, explained the intricacies of their medical supply storage and the quirks of some of the older exam equipment. 

Kagome eagerly took it all in, laughing as Sango explained how to get the older-than-god copier to work and which of their assisting staff made the best cup of coffee. All the while she took diligent notes in a tiny green journal she’d shoved in her pocket before leaving the apartment. She wanted to make sure she knew everything she needed to come Monday, so she wouldn’t have to constantly ask Kaede and Sango for guidance and slow things down. She could hardly wait to start seeing patients. By the time Sango was finished going over the entire practice from top to bottom, golden late afternoon sunlight was filtering through every window in the front of the building. 

“So, do you think you can remember all that?” Sango asked as the two women wandered out of the tiny staff kitchen towards the back exit. “We don’t typically get busy until mid-afternoon. That’s when a lot of patients are able to get off work to come in, so you’ll have most of the morning to get your bearings.”

“Oh sure. I’ve constantly had to change around my focus during residency rotations the last few years, I’m used to having to adjust to new working environments quickly. I think I’ll be alright.” Kagome assured her, preceding her friend out the door so she could lock up. 

“Good, good,” Sango muttered as she secured the door. “Oh, that reminds me. I need to get a set of keys made for you! Meant to do it last week, damn pregnancy brain has me all over the place!”

“Speaking of, I can’t believe you managed to lecture me for almost 4 hours with pausing for a snack break. Want to go grab something to eat at the diner or something?

“Ooh, better idea! Let’s go see if Kaede has any goodies upstairs,” Sango suggested, already heading back towards the stairs to get up to the second level of the building. “I spend most of my lunch breaks with her now, and she always has something special hidden in that kitchen of hers.”

As Sango predicted, Kaede was only too happy to welcome the girls into her cramped, but homey little apartment, ushering them into the kitchen nook to sit at a window seat while she fussed about, making herbal tea, and setting out a little tray of sandwiches she had handy, as if expecting them. 

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

It was well past noon when a pair of bleary, deep gray eyes opened to stare accusingly at the loudly beeping device screaming from the nightstand. A big hand darted over to the cellphone to silence the infernal sound, but only managed to knock the stupid thing to the floor. Growling in frustration, Inuyasha flopped his lower half over the side of the bed, patting around in search of the still blaring device. Just as his fingers found its cold surface, the disgruntled mass on the bed lost his battle with gravity, toppling to the ground himself. 

“God fucking dammit,” he roared, then immediately regretted the volume of his outburst when his head pounded violently in protest. Gliding his thumb over the screen to end the racket coming from his phone, Inuyasha pressed it to his ear, snarling into the receiver, “What?”

“Watch that tone with me, young man,” a familiar brittle voice replied, “I’m calling to confirm our plans for tomorrow.”

Inuyasha heaved himself into a sitting position on the floor, leaning heavily against the bed frame at his back while he racked his addled brain to remember what the old bat was talking about. His prolonged silence pulled a sigh from the old woman on the line.

“The painting, Inuyasha. We agreed tomorrow you would come to paint my kitchen. Remember?”

“Right! Right, sorry Kaede. Must have slipped my mind,” a yawn split his mouth as he answered her.

“Boy, I better have not woken you up by calling. It is after 3 in the afternoon!” Her admonishing tone had him rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. He could hear her outrage being echoed in the background. “Inuyasha, you bum! Come on!” he could hear Sango yelling.

“Uh no, no. I was just… napping. Needed a break.” That seemed to appease Kaede, as she wished him a good rest of his day, and they made a plan to meet at her place at 9am sharp tomorrow morning. 

Once they had hung up, Inuyasha heaved a big sigh, taking in the state of his bedroom. The place was a mess, his clothing from last night left forgotten on the floor, his pants caught in the door jam. The usually neat dresser had all of its drawers thrown open, the contents on the floor, and there were a few photo albums tossed here and there, one with a stark white cover laying open amongst his bedding. There were two bottles of whiskey lying forgotten by his bed, one completely drained of the amber liquid, and the other open and half gone. The sight made him wince. It had been almost a year since he last lost it like this. He’d finally broken his good streak. Smacking his lips against the stale flavor left in his mouth from his little bender, Inuyasha rose to his feet, snatching the two liquor bottles up as he went. He froze as they clinked together obnoxiously, frowning, and then proceeded out of his room and down the hall into the kitchen. 

First he carefully set the empty bottle into the recycling, then he stretched up high to place the other above the cabinets and well out of easy reach. Next he pulled open the cabinet by the fridge, rummaging around until he produced a bottle of tylenol and quickly dry swallowed two red pills before filling a glass of water at the sink to wash away the bitter taste. He leaned back against the counter next to the sink, refilling his glass and downing its contents twice more before sagging a bit in relief. That ought to help with the headache at least.

Looking around his little kitchen, Inuyasha was relieved to find that it and the living room beyond, visible through the open space between the island and overhanging cabinets, had been spared his bender. It was still as it had been when he’d first arrived home last night, a few dishes in the sink in need of washing but otherwise fairly clean. One less thing from him to worry about setting to rights. Wiping a hand down his face, he debated between tackling the mess he’d left in his bedroom, or having a shower first. ‘Might as well get the place clean before I clean up myself.’ 

He pushed off the counter, filled his glass one more time and proceeded back into the bedroom to start putting things away. He started by stuffing all the clothing back into his drawers, sniffing them as he went to avoid mixing his dirty laundry with his yet unworn stuff. As he went around the room, heaving furniture upright, replacing items strewn across the floor to their hiding places, he berated himself, so ashamed that he had ended up back here again. Admittedly it wasn’t as bad as it could have been, but it had been over three years. What could have caused him to lose it like this after so long? 

Brown eyes in a face so foreign yet familiar flashed before his mind, turning his fingers slack around the book he’d just picked up. Her. Kagome. Sango’s friend who’d just moved in from the city. Could she possibly be the source of his turmoil?

Sure there was a resemblance, one strong enough to momentarily reduce him to a terrified, stuttering moron when he’d first leaned down to knock on her car window when he’d found her last night. But they were still different people. He knew that, even having only spent a few minutes. The similarities were more like seeing two vastly different images superimposed over one another than genuinely mirroring. She was shorter, softer, her hair wavy where another’s had been straight, her eyes light where another’s had been onyx pools. 

He turned over a picture frame resting face down on the floor, the glass long destroyed during one of his past episodes. His thumb came up to caress the sweet face staring out of he photo within, swallowing past the pained lump the image produced in his throat.  ‘I need to get a grip. This can’t keep happening. I-I have to let you go, Kikyo.’ 

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

After hanging up the phone, Kaede turned back to the two young women seated in her breakfast nook, merrily munching on the sandwiches she had prepared in anticipation of Sango’s midafternoon cravings. 

“So, Inuyasah is helping you redo the kitchen Kaede?” Sango asked, as she came to sit across from them at the table, picking up her abandoned cup of tea. 

“Just adding a new coat of paint to the walls and cabinets. I think the place could use a little sprucing up, don’t you?” Kaede confirmed, taking a sip of tea and reaching for the bowl of candied orange peels resting beside her well-loved teapot. 

“That’s so nice of him. What colors are you thinking about going with?” Kagome interjected. She was intrigued to learn that the beautiful, taciturn man from yesterday seemed to have a soft spot for the old doctor. 

“Yes, Inuyasha is a sweet boy. Rough around the edges, but sweet. I’m honestly not sure what to do. I painted the cabinets this blue a few years ago on a whim, and as you can see I didn’t do the best job,” Kaede replied, gesturing to a few spots where the paint was too thin and the old wood varnish was visible beneath. “I didn’t even bother to sand them first. Inuyasha was not pleased. He says he’ll have to take all the cabinet faces off to sand them down and paint properly.”

“Wow, that’s a big job for one person! Are you sure you guys won’t need any help?” Kagome asked, “I’m pretty handy and right next door! I really wouldn’t mind helping out tomorrow. I need to be around anyway, for the movers. They’re supposed to be coming between 1 and 5 tomorrow. This will give me something to do besides waiting around!”

“Well, if you’re sure dear…” Kaede was a touch hesitant about the idea. She wasn’t certain Inuyasha would be receptive to Kagome’s involvement in their little project. The eager look on the girl’s face, along with Sango’s expectant expression, made her finally relent. “Alright. Inuyasha and I are leaving for the paint store at –”

“9am sharp! So I heard,” Kagome interjected with a grin.

“Wait, Kagome. I thought your stuff was supposed to be coming today,” Sango asked, swiping another fish salad sandwich off the plate. They’d been her favorite pregnancy snack since she’d first hunted the smell down in Kaede’s office a month ago. The good natured old woman had been making them for her almost daily since.

“Yeah, so did I,” Kagome shrugged. “There was some issue with an earlier delivery. They called like an hour ago and said they had to delay. It’s no biggy.” 

“Flakey moving bastards,” Sango groused, slamming her tea down a little too hard, splashing the table in amber liquid.

“Down girl!” Kagome laughed, sopping up the mess with her napkin. “I don’t mind. Really!”

“Ooh, Sorry Kaede. Same old Kagome. You’re such a softy.” Sango grabbed her phone to wipe it off as well, startled when the screen illuminated to show the time. “Ooh, crap. Kagome! It’s almost 4. I have to get going. I have some errands I still need to run before dinner. Wanna come with?”

“Sure, but I don’t want to stick Kaede with the clean up,” Kagome said, downing the rest of her tea but hesitating to rise from the table as she eyed the mess their lunch had made of Kaede’s little kitchen.

“No trouble, my child. Go with Sango, I can take care of it,” Kaede replied, smiling as Sango struggled to get out of the dining nook with her massive baby belly. 

“Are you sure?” Kagome asked, slowly beginning to stand, her hands hovering around the tabletop covered in plates and tea cups. Kaede waved her off, shooing her towards the door.

“Kaede, would you like to come have dinner with us tonight? We’re meeting Miroku later,” Sango asked, finally pulling free of the cramped sitting area. 

“Thank you dear, but not tonight. I think I’d like to relax here. Read, feed my cats,” Kaede declined, taking the dirty dishes to the sink herself. 

“Alrighty then. Well, I’m sure I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good evening, Kaede!” Sango said, pulling the door open.

“Bye! And thanks again for lunch!” Kagome called over her shoulder, hurrying to help Sango down the deck stairs. Kaede smiled quietly at the girls’ exuberance, watching their slow descent from the threshold. ‘Maybe spending some time around such a bright soul will be good for Inuyasha.’ Breaking from her musings, she turned back to setting her kitchen to rights, leaving her door open to let in the summer breeze.

As Kagome supported Sango on her way down to the car, since the latter woman couldn’t see much of her feet around her baby bump, she asked, “Wait, Kaede has cats? I didn’t see anyone around the apartment.”

“She feeds the local strays. They come flocking at sunset, especially at this time of year,” Sango puffed. She paused as they reached the bottom of the steps to stretch a little. “So,” she began, sliding a sly look Kagome’s way,  “You jumped at the chance to pal around with Inuyasha tomorrow.”

“What? I did not! I just wanted something to do, since I’ll be bored anyway!” she protested.

“Kagome, you and I both know how much unpacking you still need to do,” this had said girl blushing, “And I saw how you looked at him last night before he left! I get it, he’s cute!”

“Cute doesn’t begin to cover it,” Kagome sighed, “But that is NOT why I volunteered to help. It’s a nice thing he’s doing for Kaede and he really saved me last night. I want to return the favor!”

“And then some,” Sango teased back.

“You’ve been living with Miroku too long,” Kagome deadpanned, “And why haven’t I met Inuyasha before anyway. He clearly knows you, and Miroku AND Kaede! Where have you been hiding this hunk?”

That made Sango wince, because she knew Kagome was kind of right. It was a little ridiculous that even though her old roommate had visited almost a dozen times since she had moved to this town, Sango had never introduced her to Miroku’s best friend. She sighed, waddling over to her car and pulling open her car door, slipping in and waiting for Kagome to do the same. Her sudden shift in attitude had Kagome looking at her in bewilderment.

“The truth is, you’re right. You should have met Inuyasha before.  I’ve known him since the first time Miroku brought me here. He was actually supposed to be the best man in our wedding,” Sango confessed, fiddling with her keys before finally putting them in the ignition. 

This revelation confused Kagome even more, “Wait, he’s the best man that needed to be replaced last minute? Miroku’s childhood best friend?” Sango nodded.

“So what happened? All you ever said was something terrible happened and he needed to pull out. Then you moved and never brought him up again.”

“Yeah,” Sango agreed, “because it wasn’t my business to tell. Inuyasha, he’s been through a lot in the last few years. It’s not really for me to say. He wasn’t the most social person to begin with, but now… He doesn’t really see anyone. Just Miroku and Kaede and me.” Sango shook herself, finally getting the car into gear to head out of the gravel parking lot. Before she started to back up, she turned to back Kagome, a serious look on her face. “ Tomorrow, go easy. He’s not exactly an easy person to get to know.”

“O-Okay. I promise. No attempts to make plans for a slumber party and hair braiding,” Kagome teased, trying to lighten the somber mood. But Sango didn’t laugh, just proceeded to get the car moving. Kagome pulled on her seatbelt with a frown, feeling more puzzled than she had been at the start of this conversation. Sango spoke about Inuyasha like he was delicate, unstable even. But the person she’d met yesterday, though admitted quiet, had seemed normal enough. ‘Guess I’ll just have to see what happens tomorrow.’

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

Thanks it for Part II! I hope you guys like it! Feel free to let me know if anyone else would like to be tagged on updates.

@itzatakahashi

[joshslater]

Great Meadows

@jd07201990 just dumped a bunch of unfinished scripts. So, with a few tweaks here and there, here is someone else’s content.

Sitting here, staring down at my large palmed, clammy hands, feeling the burning warmth of new hormones rushing through me, I knew I was screwed. “What’s Ma gonna think”, I thought to myself, shuffling my large, sweaty sneakered feet. I kept having flashes from the trippy process popping in and out of my head. They said it’d take a few days for me to settle in. That such a big change is always rough, especially on girls. “I should’a just stayed home…” was my last thought before another skull-splitting migraine had me fall onto the stiff cot, passed out.

I’d been incredibly curious as to why my older brothers got to go to camp every summer, and I had to stay home, or enlist in summer gymnastics classes. They always came back at the end of summer, excited to tell of all the fun they’d had, all the cool activities, new friends. It sounded amazing! I had to sit there at dinner times, listening to them rub it in. Having only small accomplishments to talk about myself when it was my turn. I was tired of it. At the end of the school year, when it was time to sign my brother’s up, I made my move. I waited for mom to fill out their forms, and stealthily made a copy for myself, changing my name from Kari, to Kaeden. I know it is an all-boys camp, but once there, what could they really do?

On departure day I hid in the back of the truck, underneath my brother’s bags and gear, for the entire ride. It was awful, but I knew it’d be worth it when I got to see what the camp was all about. I’d been afraid my treasonous bladder would give me away, but the hot car had me thirsty in the trunk after the first hour. We arrived after a 4 hr drive, and while they got their papers handed in and sorted, I snuck out of the truck and into the grounds, finding a side door open along the main building. Once our parents left, it’d be too late for them to send me home, I figured, so I waited till all the cars left, and the sun started to set, marched up to the offices where the paperwork was handled, and put mine down on the desk. The man sitting behind it looked shocked, muttered a bit, then sighed, picked up my paperwork and read it over.

Name: Kaedan Atherton Age: 16 Height: 6’1” Weight: 154 lbs Hair: Blonde Eyes: Green Known allergies: none Dietary restrictions: none

He read though all of the false information I’d added, interests, past activates.

“Miss, Atherton. I assume you’re Heath and Daniel’s sister. Yes? Are you aware this is a boy’s summer camp?” I began to answer, but he cut me off, clearly not interested in having his rhetorical question answered.

“Aaaaa... This is going to create so much problem whichever way we go about to solve this… Are you really 16, or was that made up too?”

“No, I’m 16.”

He went silent and kept staring at the desk phone, as if he expected it to ring at any moment. He sat still uncomfortably long and then suddenly lurched forward, attacked the phone and dialed a three-digit number.

“Yeah, this is Robert. Are you still looking for a candidate for Moth 3?” Whoever was on the other side spoke quite a lot. ”Yes, I have a girl.” More talking “16” The line went quiet for a bit, then some more talking. “OK, I’ll bring her over if she agrees.”

Turning to me “Alright, there is something we can do. Spend an hour for science and then you are free to spend your summer here like any other boy. Would you do that?” I’m not stupid, so I knew there was a catch. Well, not stupid enough at least, but I made this bed. Time to sleep in it. “Yes.”

“OK, you are old enough to make a decision like this on your own, legally.” He stood up and walked over to a filing cabinet, opened the next to bottom drawer and rifled around a bit. Then pulled out a few papers, walked back and handed them to me. “So. Either sign this and stay, or I’ll call your parents to pick you up tomorrow.” The papers were dense legalize. Lots of cross references to laws and precedent, as if whoever wrote it thought all of this was self-evident, or didn’t want you to understand it. I thought of what the dinner table would look like the next time we all ate together. The stories we would share. How I would be a part of them for once. Damn right I signed the papers. While I did that he brought me a glass of water and a small dropper bottle. Brown glass with a rubber pipette in the cap. He poured some water in the glass, and added two drops from the bottle. “Last chance to go home as you are.” I emptied the glass in one go.

He took my arm and lead me across the camp, using side paths that went through the trees. I had a feeling he didn’t want anyone to see me. We’d barely walked a few buildings away from his office when the world started to sway. I was getting nauseous, having a creeping feeling of dread, and I think I saw a squirrel. When we got to a large, barn style building, we went to the back and he pushed a button on an intercom on the wall. “Code 91. Immediate response required”

He looked down at me and let go of my arm as the door buzzed, and opened. Two large men dressed in white scrubs came out, grabbed me by the shoulders and rushed me through. They looked eerily like Arnold Schwarzenegger, both of them. We went down a staircase as the door above slammed shut, and entered a room full of what looked like Frankenstein’s lab equipment. I panicked, pulling myself away from the men. I tried to run towards the stairs, following the fleeing squirrels. I only made it a few feet before they grabbed me again, pulling me to a chair and sat me down. Holding me down. Another man came out of a side door, dressed in double buttoned lab coat and goggles, pulling on a pair of gloves. He spoke in a hardcore, heavy German accent.

“Ah, Code 91. Haven’t had one of these in years. Wilkommen!” I tried to scream, but the orderly to my left clapped his hand over my mouth. They were both wearing world war two style gas masks now.

“No need to fuzz, it’ll only take a bit. I’ve gotten quite good at this particular physical! Now, Franz, Dözer, please take… Hmm” the German man headed to a computer and pulled up my file. “Please take Kaedan, to ze chamber”.

With my mouth still firmly covered, I fought and yelped as the two men carried me to a table, with what looked like a giant human shaped cake pan. They forced me into the mold, strapping my legs, torso, arms, and head down into the groove, and adjusted things until I was firmly stuck. I couldn’t move a muscle. I started screaming threats, until Dözer stuffed a gag into my mouth, with a hose attached to the ceiling. All the squirrels were lined up and just laughed. I was left in the cold metal mold while the Doctor set things up on a computer panel. I could hear him mumbling.

“Hm, Kaeden Atherton. Ah, yes, the Atherton boys! Good kids those two, talented, handsome. Hm, I think I know what to do here. Kaeden, says 6’1”, so shall it be! 154 lbs, check! Eyes and hair, no problem there. Now, details… details… I guess I’ve got free reign here. That is quite some athletic accomplishments you’ve listed here. Let’s use that as a guide for muscle development. Soccer. Lacrosse. Oh, climbing? Best make sure you’re a match to your strapping brothers, eh?” The doctor started typing things and using a 3D mouse, like one I’d seen in my graphic design class, to move something on the screen. Probably more squirrels. He kept rambling off little details as the top half of the human mold came down from above me, sealing with a harsh hissing sound and a cloud of gasses. I could feel my entire body slowly turning to strawberry jell-o.

“Now, skeletal and muscular systems… tall, thin, strong boned, muscle density upped a bit, rebalance muscle fiber composition. The brothers are quite fit, might as well match… Body fat needs to go down a lot. Oxygenation, cardiac development. There.

Hmmm, just a little more in the shoulders… that’s it, nice proportions, good shape.

Chest, check. Abs, check. Hips, check. Thighs, check. Calves, check. Oh… What about size 9? Yes, that ratio of fitting… no, let’s go 10 to be sure.

Now, for the secondary features. Would’ve been easier had you been younger, but I can fix this. I think, second to highest levels. Ah, definitely. Just like Heath, no, more so! May as well go full out. Dial it up to 10.

Hormone levels, highest. Ooh, right, must match the physical bits. This will be an interesting summer for you in an all male camp. I think Miss Atheron might be the new alpha in the family when this is all settled.

What settings have we left? Hmm... Looks like you’ll be a lucky lad! 8” to be proportional to the height… you know what, let’s go for 10 again… yes, yes, and hmm, a bit thicker and make those a bit larger… there, perfect! A well built young man. On those hormone levels we’ll probably see a lot of development during the summer as well.

Now, I think we’re set! Alright, Alright, here we go! Mr. Atherton, Welcome to Great Meadows Boy’s Camp!”

With that, he pushed one last button on the control panel, and I felt the metal mold heat up and start to vibrate. I tried screaming, tears welling up in my eyes as pain shot through my body. All the squirrels ran away.

When I woke up in the rickety wooden cabin I had a pounding head ache and was completely parched. I had no idea what was real and what had been hallucinations. I was pretty sure my raging hard on was real, and the implications of that wasn’t lost. I would definitively have something to talk about at our next family dinner.

[sirkkasnow]

10 Let Someone Else Pick Up The Tab

Ao3 link

07/18/13 Thursday

The nerd brigade was in full control of the living room by the time Stan was up and about the next day. Graph paper, rulebooks and glitter-spangled character sheets were littered across the carpet. Clary sat enthroned upon the recliner with a bunch of pillows arranged to support her elbows. She leafed gingerly through some arcane tome tricked out with silver ink as Dipper hovered to one side, pointing out paragraphs here and there with a pencil and a note of shrill excitement.

“... so that’s what they did with the clerics in the latest rule update!”

“How are the warlocks looking in this edition?” Clary flipped to the back, then started paging through intently. Today’s kerchief was an improbable shade of star-spattered purple. One of Mabel’s scarves strapped down a towel-wrapped ice pack at the back of her neck. “They’re kind of garbage for one-shots, but if we get something longer-term going online I have a concept...”

“Ah, we - usually avoid warlocks - “ Dipper glanced over at Ford, who’d popped up with a frown from behind a cardboard screen. “But if we end up trying an online campaign we can talk! Today’s just an intro. Some puzzles, some mysteries, perhaps some villains.” He waggled dramatic fingers at Clary, who grinned back with an appreciative ‘ooOOOooo.’

Stan made to slide on by, intent on heading out to the yard and the cars and the testing-out of a happy engine, but Mabel caught sight of him and scuttled out in pursuit. “Grunkle Stan! Help me out for a minute, we need ice pops for these brave adventurers!”

“Hey, sweetheart.” He grinned at Mabel, caught Clary’s eye in passing and absolutely did not blush a little, nope, no way, he was too old and too jaded for that kinda nonsense.

Mabel squinted up at him appraisingly, planted hands at his back and shoved him towards the gift shop. “So?” she hissed between her teeth as they staggered down the hallway. “Gimme the 411.”

All he could manage was a thumbs up. Her eyes went wide and she yanked up the cowlneck of her sweater to muffle a high-pitched squeak of glee. “So, she asked me out, I guess, maybe when we’re in port, since we swapped phone numbers an’ all - “

“Did you kiss her?!”

“What? No!”

“You should. She gets all dreamy-eyed - “

“Mabel, she is a classy dame, you don’t rush that kinda thing!”

“There is no dame too classy for my Grunkle Stan.” She hugged him hard around the waist and ran off to the gift shop, leaving him dumbfounded. “I’ll grab you a pineapple one!”

He hauled both the toolbox and a pineapple ice pop out to the yard, late-morning sunshine laying across his shoulders with a warm and soothing weight. The Fairlane’s engine was familiar as the back of his hand after two weeks of tinkering with its insides. Stan propped up the hood and dove in, checking and re-checking his work, reaching in to tweak a connection or two. A low hum of satisfaction rumbled in his chest as he slid into the driver’s seat and shook out the keys.

A good half tank of fuel remained, so no problem on that front. The engine sputtered briefly as he coaxed it into life, then settled into an even cadence that was easy enough on the ears, but Stan cocked his head as he listened. A faint off note in the sound plucked at some distant memory. He leaned on the gas a bit, leaving the car in park.

Then blinked, as the subtle vibration he’d been registering resolved itself into something more rhythmic.

“Shit.” Stan yanked his foot off the pedal and flipped the key back towards him, the thrum of well-regulated combustion rudely interrupted by an earsplitting clatter that echoed off the surrounding trees. The engine took way too long to wind down into silence, something in its guts rattling around hard enough to jostle the suspension. He laid a hand across his brow and swore fervently under his breath.

Twenty seconds passed before the side door banged open and a blur pelted across the yard. Clary smacked into the driver’s side, barely catching herself against the window frame. Winded, she stuck her head into the passenger compartment, frantic eyes flicking across the dash and the dented hood. “That was a piston.”

“That was a piston,” Stan agreed grimly.

“What - what the hell happened? Is the engine dead?” She sagged against the car.

“Well - “ Clary made a strangled noise of protest and he winced. “No. No, no, it’s not dead but things just got more complicated. I swear this isn’t my fault.” His brother and the kids were almost there, trotting across the grass. “Ford, did McGucket get all that heavy equipment shifted up to his new place? We’re gonna need an engine sling at the very least.”

Ford looked a little stricken as he accepted Dipper’s phone. “I thought we’d need to take the wagon up there for the bodywork, but I hoped it’d be under steam by then. Yes, the garage should have everything we’re going to need and then some.” He scrolled through contacts and tapped a number, turning away to engage in low conversation.

Clary straightened, leaning hard on the door for support. “All right,” she whispered. “Fine. Not like it hasn’t been a comedy of errors since I crashed into the town jewel at the peak of the season.” Her hands came together with a sharp clap. “We’d better get the rest of my junk out of the car. May I have some help?”

There wasn’t much left to clear out at this point. Clary opened all the doors and the back gate, letting the kids shuttle the last couple of bags into the house. She handed a skinny box of bottle rockets over to Stan. “Leftovers. I guess we can fire those off when this thing’s finally done.”

Then she collapsed onto the edge of the driver’s side passenger seat, doubled over with her head in her hands. “Good Christ. We just can’t catch a break, can we?”

Ford dropped into a crouch with an ease Stan envied, looking up to her and speaking firmly. “We promised that we’d get you on the road again and we shall. We’ll understand, of course, if you want to cut your losses at this point. The offer of a rental stands, if you want to head up to Seattle and come back to collect your car.”

She was already shaking her head, laughing raggedly. “Come on, Ford. You understand the sunk cost fallacy as well as I do. Thank you, but no.” Clary patted the seat back. “Whatever it takes, it’s got to be this ride. Stan? Can you actually fix it?”

That stung a bit but he couldn’t blame her. “Yeah. I mean, it’s gonna be another week, maybe a little more, and we might be haulin’ McGucket in to help out some.”

Clary drew a careful breath. “Who exactly is McGucket?”

“Best mechanical engineer I’ve ever met,” said Ford.

“Town crank,” said Stan, and got a glare for his trouble. “What? They’re both true!”

Ford sighed and rose. “I’ve been hoping to introduce you to Fiddleford anyway. There might be quite a bit to talk about! Can you adjust your schedule to accommodate another week or so?”

“My next firm commitment is in September. I arranged to leave most of the summer open. I will admit I expected to spend most of it on the road.” Clary’s smile was crooked.

“The McGuckets would be happy to have us as soon as we can arrive. Is it all right to line up a tow truck?”

“Go for it. Thank you, Ford.”

Ford’s smile was the warm, reassuring one he tended to bust out for the customs agent when they’d come skidding into some obscure port with inadequate paperwork. “Shouldn’t take much more than half an hour.”

Stan watched him head back towards the house and sat heavily behind the steering wheel. Clary studied her feet, then pitched backwards with a groan, legs hanging out the door as she sprawled across the back seat. Both hands came up to cover her face. “Aaaaaaauuuuuugh.”

“You all right over there?” He set the fireworks down in the footwell and draped an arm over the backrest, peering down in concern.

“Everything hurts and I want to cry.”

Stan fidgeted. Extending reassurance had never been his strong suit. “Listen...McGucket is definitely a little nuts but he knows his way around a combustion engine like nobody else. Between him an’ me we’ll get it runnin’.”

“This damned car.” She sounded so tired. “I had one job this summer, get this thing from Colorado to the west coast, then back home to Baltimore. I haven’t even made it to the Pacific yet!”

“Pretty roundabout route for gettin’ back to Maryland.”

Her breath hitched. “Yes,” she said. “I suppose it is.” Clary let her arms fall, one drooping to the floor, the other crossed over her abdomen, and stared up at the roof light. “Stan, I’m glad I’m here. I hate that I don’t have any control over being here.”

Stan tried out comforting responses in the back of his head for a couple seconds, words sticking in his throat. “Well, if you’re gonna be here another week, we’re doin’ the dance thing next Friday. You an’ I could actually, y’know. Dance. If you want,” he clarified as her eyes swiveled over to him.

Clary was silent just long enough to make him nervous, but at last the unhappy line of her mouth softened. “I meant what I said. I’m not taking it back. Even if the car still isn’t running.” She lifted a hand and hooked her index finger into his at the seat back, letting the weight of her arm hang. “Let’s dance.”

She was beautiful in her exhaustion. Stan shifted to hide a widening smile against his shoulder and tightened his one-digit clasp in hers. “Great. I’ll see ya there. Gonna be quite the swank party.”

They trailed the tow truck in the El Diablo, Clary tucked into the front seat, Ford in the back with the kids. Dipper narrated choice bits of Northwest family history all the way, none of it flattering. Clary kept glancing back to him in astonishment. “They were really that bad?”

“They used to be, but they don’t have all that dirty money to throw around any more! And, uh. Pacifica’s okay.”

Mabel jabbed him in the ribs with an elbow.

“Ow. Anyway, McGucket ended up buying the place at the end of last summer, so it’s probably changed a bit, but it’s huge! I haven’t been up there since the big party last year. Hey, there it is.”

Clary looked up to the vast lodge-style manor on its hill as they rounded a curve and emerged from the trees. “Stan?”

“Yeah?”

“This town doesn’t make any sense.”

“Thought you’d figured that out by now.” He swung the car up along the long drive, squinting up at the mansion. “I never did manage to slip into this joint while the Northwests were runnin’ it.”

“It takes a lot of money to be that tacky. Clary, Dipper is definitely taking us on the tour.” Mabel hooked an arm firmly through her brother’s. “We’re gonna let the machine geeks go at it for a while.”

“I don’t know, Mabel....”

“C’mon, you said it wasn’t haunted any more! What’s the harm? I’m sure the Northwests took all their awful family portraits with ‘em....”

The kids bickered all the way up to the garage, which was as oversized as the rest of the place. He could just glimpse a tinkerer’s dream of equipment in there – stuff he recognized, stuff that looked to be custom built, some massive grease-encrusted hunks of machinery that must have come up from the town dump along with McGucket.

The man himself was a lot less grease-encrusted than he used to be. McGucket still sported the overalls and the spectacles, but he was scrubbed, bright-eyed and less stooped, and the missing teeth had been patched in through some kind of dental wizardry. Mabel and Dipper hauled Clary off for introductions while Stan and Ford got the wagon unloaded, oriented and nudged into the open bay.

One thing hadn’t changed at all and that was the language. McGucket’s conversation was as peppered with hick-isms as ever. “What a pleasure to meet ya, miss! Ford’s filled me in on yer situation and I’m real sorry y’got stranded out here, but we’ve got the stuff t’get ya right on the road again! I hear there’s a thrown piston t’fix?” He, the kids and Clary, her eyes widening a little with every twang, took off on a tour of the further corners of the space. An occasional snippet of discussion drifted back Stan’s way as he tried to focus on the immediate necessities.

“Just as well she already knows this place is a little strange.” Ford caught Stan’s jacket as it was tossed over, then shucked his own coat and hung both up on pegs.

“Not sure I’d’ve brought her up here without knowin’ she wouldn’t flip.” Stan got the Fairlane settled into place, set the brake and went looking for a dolly.

“You wouldn’t believe some of the things he’s built! McGucket can do stuff with old cars that’s practically miraculous--!” Dipper was nearly hopping in excitement as the little tour group rounded the far end of the garage. Stan glanced up, caught his nephew’s eye and dragged pinched fingers along his lips: zip it, kid. Dipper blinked, went a little red and reined himself in. “I mean he’s not going to do anything weird to your car. Grunkle Stan will make sure of that.”

“Of course not! Why, it’d be a crime to take apart such a pretty thing.” McGucket caught one of Clary’s hands in both of his and peered up in watery-eyed sincerity. “I promise we’ll take real good care of it. Mabel, honey, y’said you wanted t’take a quick tour? I can send ya up with Tater if y’like.”

Stan hauled up the hood and latched its support into place, listening in. Clary’s polite smile finally loosened up into something genuine and she tightened her grip in McGucket’s. “That’s your son, right? I’d love to see the place. Mabel says it’s something else.”

“Sure is! Left up most of the fancy stuff, gold doorknobs an’ all that claptrap, might have t’swap ‘em out next time we need some for circuit boards or whatever...” McGucket fished a heavily modified cell phone out of a pocket and chattered into it as he led the other three up towards the house.

“Gold what?” Stan asked under his breath as they went out of sight.

“Don’t ask. I’m not sure whether he’s serious and it’s not worth crossing the path of the latest Patrol-O-Bot prototype to find out.” Ford peeled out of his sweater and hung that up next to his coat. “Where do we start?”

It took most of an hour for McGucket to make it back down to the garage, by which time they’d gotten the engine fluids drained and the banged-up hood removed. “Nice dings y’got there! Ford, she said it was that magnet gun o’yours did the deed? Maybe we can set up opposin’ fields, pop that sucker nice an’ flat again?”

Stan rolled his eyes a little and tuned out the dense cloud of nerd words that McGucket and Ford generated every damn time they crossed paths. Gibberish along the lines of ‘get a few more horsepower out of it’ and ‘polymer coatings’ and ‘increased fuel efficiency’ bounced back and forth as he methodically disassembled and labeled everything in the engine compartment.

They were all sweaty and grimy by the time Clary and the grand-nibs reappeared. Clary looked up at the sling-suspended engine with worried eyes, then drew breath and squared her shoulders, jangling a set of keys by their fish-shaped fob. “Guess who’s got a loaner,” she sang. “Tate is spotting me his spare truck. He let me raid the larder up at the manor, too, so I’ve got dinner covered. Anyone mind if I run the kids back down to the ranch?”

“What, all we had t’do for some replacement wheels was wreck the car even worse an’ drag it up here?” Stan grinned over her way and she grinned back, relaxing a shade. “Lookin’ good so far, Clary. Sure, seeya back at the Shack this evenin’.”

“Thank you, fellas. Thank you, Mr. McGucket!” Clary shouldered a canvas bag and headed for the far end of the garage.

“Call me Fiddleford!” came out from somewhere under the Fairlane.

The loaner turned out to be a lightweight pickup with ‘Tate & Backle’s Bait & Tackle’ decaled on the doors. Dipper, Mabel and Clary all loaded themselves in. Clary fired it up with a low roar and with three shouts of ‘wooooooooo!’ they peeled out down the long, curving drive back towards town.

“They’re going to get in trouble, aren’t they?” Ford peered out after them from behind the bulk of the kitbashed machinery he’d been using for cover.

“Less trouble than they’d get in if I were drivin’! C’mon, let’s finish pullin’ these pistons.”

Stan and Ford didn’t head back down until nearly sunset. They’d borrowed one of the manor’s ludicrous excess of bathrooms for showers, and Stan had ‘borrowed’ one of the thick, fluffy, pure-white, gold-logoed bath towels to take home through the simple expedient of folding it up and stuffing it under his arm.

The Stanleymobile’s usual parking spot was a lot emptier without the wagon angled in next to it. Mabel was waiting for them on the couch when they finally pulled in, snapping her scrapbook shut as they ambled wearily towards the house. “Gentlemen! Have we got a meal for you! How’s the car?” She waved them in towards the dinette.

“In pieces,” Ford said dryly. “It’s a good start at least. What did you make?”

“Oh, you’ll see.” Mabel waggled eyebrows at both of them and vanished off down the hallway. “Have a seat! We’re almost done!”

The dining table was dolled up with a tablecloth Stan was pretty sure had been a curtain last week and a candelabra nicked from a Summerween exhibit. He grabbed a chair just in time to dodge Dipper, who scurried in to drop off a plate lined up with neat rows of salami-wrapped mozzarella, olives and tiny pickles. “Appetizers!” he called in passing, doubling back to the kitchen.

Stan exchanged glances with Ford, shrugged and reached for an olive. “This oughta be entertainin’.”

A low argument between the younger twins, just loud enough to be audible, was intercut with sporadic bits of crackling radio. Clary walked through to set a pitcherful of water and a few glasses on the table, then leaned in to speak softly. “The soundtrack was not my idea, got it?” Stan was struggling to stifle laughter by this point; Ford resolutely bit into another pickle.

Eventually the crackle settled down into what sounded like distant cocktail-hour strings. Mabel marched in first and set down a bowl of fancified rice. “For your consideration, tonight’s menu is produced by our executive chef, Miz Clary Merrick!” Dipper and Clary shuttled in serving dishes until the table was loaded down - garlic bread, a couple different green things he didn’t pay much attention to, and chicken in some pale lemony sauce.

Ford’s nose actually twitched. “Where on earth did you find capers?”

“The pantry up at the McGuckets’ place is bigger than my entire kitchen. You wouldn’t believe the weird pickled things in there. Capers were easy.” Clary laid a napkin across her lap and reached for the rice. “Let’s eat.”

The whole spread turned out to be about a dozen steps above meatloaf. Stan demolished a pile of chicken piccata, went for seconds and found himself fork-dueling with Dipper over the last bit. “Settle down, you two.” Clary nudged back from the table. “There’s pie for dessert. Maybe after we’ve digested for a couple of minutes. But first - “ She steepled her fingertips and looked out critically across the empty dishes. “I have a proposal to make.”

Mabel bounced a little in her chair. “We want to throw a picnic!”

Clary glanced heavenward. “My sainted mother,” she said, kicking the nearest leg of Mabel’s chair, “was a terrible cook, but she had a few specialities and one of them was the family fried chicken. We’re going to have the big dance thing next Friday. So, with your permission, Ford, Stan.” Her chin dipped as she looked at them in turn. “I’d like to host a picnic lunch that afternoon for you guys and anyone else you think I should meet before I pack it up and head out.”

Stan conceded the last bite of chicken to Dipper - kid needed all the protein he could get anyway - but stole the serving dish and swabbed out every trace of sauce with a crust of bread. “Is your fried chicken half as good as this stuff?”

“Better.”

“Sold.”

Mabel beamed, teeth and braces gleaming, and - too late - Stan sensed the trap. “Fantastic! So we’re gonna need to do a bunch of prep.” Her scrapbook came out onto the table, bang, and she flipped it open to a page festooned with tiny curling streamers. Clary deftly snatched plates out of the way, handing them off to Dipper, who ran them to the kitchen. “We’ve got an invite list started, but Clary and I will need to schedule a couple of meetings. You know, to get everything organized since she’s gonna host. That means we have to get Grenda and Candy and Pacifica over here to help out - we need glamour consultants!”

“This means a slumber party, doesn’t it.” Ford’s eyes narrowed, but Stan didn’t see any way to wiggle out of it this time.

“Since everyone’s scattered all over town, it only makes sense to gather here, doesn't it? We'll have to talk about the menu, the décor, the clothes, the music, there's a lot to do.” Clary plucked the piccata bowl from Stan’s slack fingers. “I’ve been extended an invite which I’m honored to accept, so there’ll be adult supervision. Surely we can host for one night?”

Ford groaned quietly. Stan raised both hands, knowing when he’d been beat. “Fine. Deal. As long as you deliver on dessert.”

“Oh, I’ll deliver. Has everyone got their second wind?”

“Heck yes,” chorused the kids. Clary stacked up the remaining dishware, whisked it away and returned with some kind of lemon curd pie dolloped with whipped cream. It was too tart, too sweet, completely delicious and almost gone by the time they were all too stuffed to eat any more of it.

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“I’m glad to be here, Stan. I just hate it that I’m stuck.” She stares up at the dome light with tired eyes.

You could take a day trip to Bend with the bike.

We could probably get in another fishing trip.

So, that dance thing’s coming up on Friday.

[deanslittlebitch]

Battling My Elements - Prologue

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: After finding a girl abandoned in a HYRDA facility, the Avengers bring her home with them, trying to re-integrate her into the world. Her quick wit and no bull-shit attitude catch the eye of a certain metal-armed super-soldier. Will she let them in, or will she shy away? Afterall, it is easier to be lonely.

Word count: 748

Warnings: none as of yet

A/N: Hello to the world of tumblr and fan fiction. This is one of my first writing pieces, I did write something else but didn’t like it/lost motivation to continue with it. Sooooooo yeah, enjoy! Oh and the events in IW and Endgame are irrelevant in this story line.

Masterlist

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Bucky practically vibrated with energy as he crept down the poorly lit hallway. This always happened on missions, his body started to prepare him for the fight that commenced nine times out of ten. It was a euphoric feeling to him now, he used to get so upset with himself every time he felt the tingling feeling start moving through his body, but now he finds comfort in it. It makes him feel alive.

He slowed his pace when he reached a fork in the hallway, slowly and silently crouching down to peek around the corners. Looking left he saw nothing but lab equipment strewn across the floor, clearly abandoned in a haste. He smirked slightly at the fact that his crew have made such an impression on HYDRA that this base dropped what they were doing and ran for their sorry lives. Papers with chemical codes and genetic diagrams are spread across the floor. He squints to see the once closest to him to see a google search about nature, its properties and basic information on earth. He tilts his head in confusion. Why would HYRDA be researching about nature? Have they decided to change their M.O. and start up a composting business?  

Looking down the right fork of the hallway he sees two wooden chairs stationed outside a metal door with a large spinning lock in the middle of the door, much like what you would see on an old fashioned safe or vault.

Seeing no immediate danger or hostiles, he slowly creeps out of his position. Assault rifle poised, ready to use at a moment’s notice. He walks down the right branch of the hallway, lights flickering as he hears fighting and repulsors from the floor above.

There has got the be something important in that room if it had to be guarded. Clearly not enough according to the abandoned chairs which were also left hastily, one balancing on two legs leaning against the wall, the other set askew.

He saw a small screen implanted in the wall at chest height, displaying a blank screen with what looks like a pixelated outline of a body in the middle of the screen. What the hell?

He quickly glances down the hallway assessing for anyone who he may have missed who, you know, might try and MURDER him. Seeing no threats, he lowers his gun, flicking on the safety and grabs the strap connected to the gun. He slings it over his head and under his arm, so the strap crosses his chest and the gun rests safely on his back.

“Guys, I think I got something down here.” He says into his comms unit.

“What is it, Frosty?”, replies Stark, which is quickly followed the squeal of his repulsors and the clunk of his suit.

Looking at the screen closely he notices a faint red orange hew in the centre of the figure’s chest, barely noticeable by anyone who isn’t a super-soldier. It’s footage from an infrared camera.

He answers, “Don’t know, but I’m about to find out.”

Bucky grabs the rim of the wheel lock and turns it until the door opens, he pulls it open before it stops leaving a gap of about a couple inches. He pulls at the it again with some force, but it doesn’t budge. He peeks around the edge of the door to find that vines are woven through its mechanisms preventing the doors movement. What in the hell?  

He reaches his metal arm through the gap that the door left and snaps the vines restricting the doors movement. Grabbing his handgun from his thigh holster, he swings the door open and points his gun into the room before entering.

The first things he notices is the vines that were securing the door are everywhere. They’ve climbed the walls, they hang from the lights, they’ve squeezed their way through the cracks in the ceiling. The thing that catches Bucky’s attention though is some of the vines have reached out from the walls and ceiling into the middle of the room, where they’ve met and wrapped themselves around an unconscious woman.

From here Bucky can even see the vines moving and growing as they wrap themselves around the girl, suspending her mid-air. They aren’t tightly wrapped like it’s trying to hurt her, it’s more like they’re…shielding her? Protecting her.  

Reaching his arm to his comms, Bucky says in disbelief, “Everyone get to my position, now. I’ve found something…weird.”

[socialwicked]

Researchers find new ways to siphon sensitive data from “air-gapped” computers

Why it matters:  In a earth the place cyberattacks can devastate significant infrastructure, governments, legislation enforcement, and general public establishments use so-known as “air-gapped” programs to prevent even the most formidable makes an attempt. That explained, a crew of Israeli security researchers however manages to consistently appear up with tips on how businesses may perhaps be ready to improve their safety posture. 

 For many years, Israeli stability researchers at Ben Gurion College have been fast paced looking for means malicious actors can exploit physically isolated desktops to exfiltrate delicate information. The group headed by Dr. Mordechai Guri is well-known for discovering novel and unorthodox strategies of accessing so-identified as air-gapped systems.

 A variety of methods they have discovered contain applying computer RAM as a smaller  Wi-Fi transmitter ,  manipulating  display screen brightness to ship ones and zeroes by means of security cameras, or  tuning  the speed of cooling admirers to develop vibrations that can be conveniently recorded making use of a smartphone.

 The researchers have not too long ago formulated a pair of assault approaches dubbed Gairoscope and EtherLED. As described in the two related  exploration   papers , these new exploits are a reminder that ingenious hackers can perform all around even the strictest protection steps making use of somewhat very simple concepts.

     As the name implies, the Gairoscope assault depends on a smartphone gyroscope, a microelectromechanical (MEMS) product prone to  mechanical oscillations . In this situation, the researchers use a specially-crafted piece of malware that can output “covert acoustic audio waves” making use of laptop or computer speakers.

 A smartphone gyroscope simply picks up these air vibrations but does call for added function. The researchers reveal that a lot of mobile apps use gyroscopes to increase the person expertise. So people are extra most likely to approve app accessibility to the gyroscope than the microphone — a behavior that attackers can exploit.

 An additional profit of this technique is that there is no visible indicator on iOS or Android for when the gyroscope is in use, although there is just one that provides the user a heads-up when the microphone is active. This opens new avenues for the smartphone facet of the exploit, this kind of as injecting the destructive JavaScript code on a authentic website or net application in its place of leaping by hoops to operate malware on the device.

 The Gairoscope technique enables an attacker to exfiltrate details at up to eight bits for every second, a lot quicker than most known covert acoustic methods. It may not seem like significantly, but it ought to be ample to transmit precious facts this sort of as passwords, storage encryption keys, and additional.

  https://www.youtube.com/look at?v=5sUQ0jG01dw 

 Guri and his group had been equipped to use an Android application to decode a information typed on the target laptop or computer in a handful of seconds (video over). Nonetheless, a important limitation is that the greatest length for reputable transmission is 8 meters (26 toes).

 Securing against Gairoscope can be carried out by possibly prohibiting speaker use or filtering out resonance frequencies created by air-gapped techniques employing a unique audio filter.

  https://www.youtube.com/view?v=acYAPMr_JZg 

 The 2nd attack approach depends on the eco-friendly and amber standing and exercise indicator LEDs located on lots of community adapters. Beforehand, Guri’s group experienced devised exploits primarily based on activity lights discovered on  tough disk drives , switches,  Wi-Fi routers , and  keyboards , with info transmission speeds of up to 6,000 bits for every second.

 EtherLED is a little bit more tough to pull off, as it involves a direct line of sight between the target system and any surveillance cameras the attacker may possibly be in a position to compromise. It would also be possible for somebody to use a drone to exfiltrate the sensitive info, delivered the community action lights face a window.

 Making use of safety cameras is a good deal much more possible, nevertheless. Past year, hackers accessed  150,000 cameras  within universities, hospitals, law enforcement stations, prisons, and providers like Tesla and Equinox. From there, all they’d have to do is report the blinking lights of an contaminated community interface card to steal knowledge.

      In the connected paper, Guri describes EtherLED can be utilised to leak a password in one particular second and an RSA important in a very little much less than a minute. The pace may differ based on the modulation used and no matter if the attackers could compromise the driver or the community card’s firmware. The most distance for responsible information transmission ranges from 10 to 100 meters, depending on the camera.

 Mitigating towards the attack can be performed in many approaches, ranging from covering the LEDs with black tape to deploying firmware-degree countermeasures that scramble any visible alerts the attackers may well consider to use.

 As effortless as it is to dismiss the possibility of assaults like Gairoscope and EtherLED taking place in the wild, this study is nevertheless vital. Above the earlier two decades, we’ve noticed studies detailing cyber espionage teams focusing on air-gapped units in  South Korea  and  Japan .

 Masthead credit history:  FLYD

https://socialwicked.com/researchers-find-new-ways-to-siphon-sensitive-data-from-air-gapped-computers/

[hauntedavenuechaos]

What is EPS Shape Moulding Machine and How does it work

EPS Machine system adopts multiple heating method, adopts solid and shifting balance valve system, control instrument and control valve parts to complete the cycle, thus making the machine more steam saving. The unstable factors of product quality caused by unstable steam source are solved and the quality is greatly improved. Steam and cooling water valves are imported components, safe operation, stable performance, foam molding machine can operate 2-3 machines.

The working principle of foam molding machine is similar to the principle of syringe, it is by virtue of the thrust of screw, the plastic has been plasticized into the molten state of injection into the mold cavity, after curing and shaping the product process.Injection molding is a cyclic process, one cycle mainly includes: quantitative feeding – melt plasticizing – pressure injection – mold cooling – mold opening and taking. After the product is taken out, the mold is closed again for the next cycle.

EPS Shape Molding Machine can change different Mould to produce different foam products, EPS Mould can be customized, the most common foam vegetable boxes, foam fish boxes, seedling trays, ICF Blocks and So on.

We have recently begun to manufacture a series of machinery and equipment for EPS Mould facilities that require high multi-fold expansion capabilities.

EPS Raw Material Project is the first pre-expanding machine to produce EPS beads with a density of 16-20g/l and a capacity of 1,500-2,000kg/h. The main purpose of this multi-expansion design is to have a secondary expansion capacity of 120/150m3/h.

The heating coil type fluidized bed dryer is made of stainless steel. In addition, the steam surface of the all stainless steel steam container is a wedge-shaped line. The machine is fully automatic. PLC with touch screen and Mitsubishi trademark as an automatic control partner is optional. It is equipped with a vibration sensor and an automatic density control unit.

We manufacture various types of block and shape forming EPS processing machinery and equipment, such as vertical block forming machines, automatic cutting lines, and forming machines.

Expandable polystyrene (EPS) and other industrial Styrofoam are 98% air which makes them very bulky in comparison to their weight. Because of the high volume, products made with these materials fill dumpsters quickly, leading to much higher waste disposal costs.

Foam Compactors reduce the volume of EPS, and in turn, fewer fees are incurred in the process. Also, a benefit, compacted foam products and industrial Styrofoam can be shipped economically to a recycling center. Compacting foam plastics can save thousands in unnecessary waste disposal costs!

EPS Recycling Machine can benefit a wide variety of markets. Here are some examples of businesses that can benefit from it.

Manufacturers

Furniture Stores

Appliance Stores

Food/Seafood Companies

Property Management Agencies

Retailers

Schools/School Districts

Stadiums and Parks

Expandable Plastic Recycling Programs

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[dsmroleplay]

#ReturnOfAdam #DSM #RP Part Two

Written by and posting order: @ForgotAboutAdam  @DeanWinchester_ @SammyWDSM @tridenthunting 

Colt Things hadn't gone as planned, Sammy had been cremated and he hadn't bothered telling a bunch of people he couldn't handle it. He'd been buried out on the property under an Oak tree. John was off on a hunt down in Colombia and couldn't make it back. And his Dad had bailed without a word leaving Colt to deal with it. So the remaining Winchesters were pretty far from being close and he, in particular, knew that he'd have to get his shit together for his kids if nothing else. Asher was a big help and he was happy but somethings you a gotta break on your own. His /issues/ could get pretty severe so he'd chosen to start seeking professional help. It was a step in the right direction, he couldn't expect anyone else to save him from himself. Ethan wasn't gonna come sweeping in to save the day either so he'd need to take things seriously. He was devasted but he pushed that down and refused to wallow in it anymore. Going on back to the office he made his rounds to see what was going on in the world according to their analysts. -

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Sam - Since getting his life turned around from escaping his world with all the zombies and now settling his life here in Austin with clone family in this world. Now he just needs to get himself set up with a job in his Clone brother and father in Colt and John Winchester. This world was quite different from his world. This world had light and shade and not the constant running and living for our lives. When my life here was found and managed to get along with everybody and the family here seem to be all happy. According to Colt, there was a rift of multiple worlds giving a window to another world to come here and giving all the other clone to survive in this world if they find a way to there rifts. This gave me hope that I might one day find my true brother in @DemonhunterDW someday. When we were separated in the last fight with zombies. He hopes his brother managed to get out before his world exploded as he heard by Colt that Chuck was cancelling worlds that couldn't contain the demons and now. He sighs and hopes his Dean Got out before his world just vanished with everyone loved and cared about was now dead.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

John had decided to send a text to the boys to have a get together at the headquarters building so that Sam and he could meet one another. They'd lost one Sam and gained another in a short amount of time. John couldn't fathom what the big guy upstairs was doing but they had to make a plan to get everyone on the same page. So as he sat with a hot cup of coffee waiting for the boys to show up he read through the mornings briefing. Specifically about the rifts showing up here and there, depositing at this point Winchesters but he had his suspensions more was going on that they didn't understand.-

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Adam had been quiet for a few days. he hadn't had any control over his body for the last few days, to be honest. Michael has put him in his trance. as the last few days were kind of a blur. as he never knew what going on with his so-called family. he logged onto his laptop to track on his family to see where in this miserable world where exactly they would be. living their perfect lives. he could see his elder brother has gone up in the world living in Texas Austin. when he google him to see what's going on with the three Winchester his father didn't even care about him. it was always about him and dean and Sam from the minute I meet him as a child. Adam knew if he could track his elder brother Sam and his father wouldn't be too far behind him. so he made a plan to head to Austin Texas the following day. he was booked into this crappy motel for one more night.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Colt got a message from his father about meeting up with him and Sammy. Looking at his watch, he had somethings to do but he texted back he'd be there but late. A local haunting had caught his attention when the guys mentioned it. Normally he didn't roll on things like this anymore, honestly didn't get the adrenaline pumping and he lived off of that. Since booze and sex had been quelled adrenaline was pretty much all he had to get through the days. Of course now with Asher in his life and again was a good thing for him and the kids. He worried about them, he knew he hasn't graded A father material but he made efforts to become more of what they'd need. Adapt and survive that was what he did.

Lost in thought till Justin reached over and slapped the back of his hand against his arm. "We're here Colt." Looking up at the old abandoned mental institution with a laugh. "Hope you did your homework Justin, hell, a place like this could have multiple spirits haunting it. What did the construction workers say exactly about this place?" Listening to Justin describes a young teenage girl bloody and bruised up dragging a bloody axe down the corridor. And that the lead foremen clutched his chest and dropped right there on the floor. they described the young woman as he flickered like an old movie projection glitching something out of a horror movie. One of the guys had grabbed the guy by the wrist and trying to get him into the elevator but the girl snarled at them punching her small hand into the foreman's chest like he was squeezing his heart literally. They guys ran for it and managed to get out of there, but they said when they looked up at the window she was standing there dead and pale staring at them. Fire, EMS and cops rolled and they searched the place best they could but couldn't find any trace of the young woman. EMS starting CPR right away but the foreman was DOD (dead on arrival) at the hospital.

Rumor's had gotten out and apparently, no one wanted to take a stab at the renovations. So the recent owner called in a Catholic Priest, Father Gentry. He went in and never came out. Fire and cops searched what they could again but they didn't find him. Colt grabbed his duffle and shotgun. There was a chance the priest could still be alive so he slung the bag over his shoulder and went in, Justin guiding with top of the line GPS and map configuration of the building plans but as soon as they crossed the threshold the equipment began to falter. Colt didn't need EMF to tell him they had a very real problem here but one of the guys held one holding it up. It's was going off like crazy. "Okay stick together, this place has been searched twice but we're looking for anything out of the ordinary. Be suspicious of everything. These places used to do underground work trying to find ways to fix people and who knows what kind of evil went down here. It Gotta be a place big enough to hold a grown man but if he's already dead it may be smaller. Check for hidden rooms, panels in the floors or ceilings etc. Break into teams of two. Work back to back if anything goes down and make damn sure to use your training. Everyone's going home tonight and hopefully the priest as well."

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Sam: It's been a few days with now having my apartment and new Papers with new I.D in this world after being set up by Colt. Next on my agency was to spread my legs out and get set up in this new world and just blend in. Maybe get to own the people of this world. Maybe in time, I might be able to start working for black waters and through some cases under my belt. Right now all I was doing is studying about this world as I wouldn't want this world to fall like my own. The people here under John and Colt Winchester were protected, but for how long.

Sam was sitting in the local library having a cup of coffee. Reading up on any cases that maybe be in the area as he wasn't exactly working at blackwaters but liked to read and see what was happening in this world and maybe looking out for clues of any of his people may be found there way here. When he felt the vibration from his phone sliding across the table. He looked at his phone and there was a message from this world John's Winchester requested him and some of his siblings to come and have a meeting with him at his office. He nodded his head as he read the message from John, he was curious to wonder how many cloned Winchester were here. When he wrote up a quick reply to John. 📱 Sure thing John, I can be there in about thirty minutes or so. 📱 Sam picked up his phone stuff in his shirt pocket, picking up the books and returned them to the shelves.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

John checked his phone and laughed, might be different worlds but typical responses from both. He laid the phone down and went down the hall and into the Operations Command Room. Monitors up all over the places and people monitoring each hunt from their station. He talking to Gilbert to get an update of what was going on. John sipped his coffee as they rattled off several vampire cases, hauntings and a possible ghoul problem. They talked a little and he was about to walk out when one status came back "We've lost coms with Team 8." John walked over and watched them try to figure out any possible problems. "What's the case they are working and where are they?" The analyst looked up. "It's a haunting sir, one confirmed dead and one missing. John looked at the computer screen to see if he recognized any of the operators on the case. He recognized /Justin Hartgrove/ and then the next name /Colt Winchester/. He frowned and shook his head no wonder the kid said he was going to be late.- "How long have coms been down?" The analyst answered "Twenty minutes sir." John took a breath. "Keep me posted on the situation and send me the case file to my office." With that, he turned around and walked out. Colt was a top tier operator but that didn't matter, every time these guys went out in the field he worried. Not just for his son but all of them.-

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Adam In the next morning Adam couldn't wait to check out of this motel. He liked to have his morning coffee outside watching the world go by. This might be normal to others around the enclosed motel with the busy parking lot. He stood watching the people coming and going in their lives. When they were doing the hustle and bustle. He had been locked up in the cage for hundred of years with Lucifer and Michael. When somehow Lucifer managed to escape with some ease. Whereas Michael and himself took a lot longer. Now they were finally Free he had Michael for the company on his body and mind. This one thing that was on Adam mind was a showdown with his family. Since they never looked for him. They simply just forgot about him. It's so true out of mind out of sight. Both Michael and himself had issues that needed to be settled. Michael was helpful since he would often help Adam to track his so-called family with a location. He knew that the Winchester had moved on from Kansas now they have a headquarters n Austin Texas. This Is where he was going to be heading too. Michael had offered to get him there in seconds but Adam wanted the surprise on his side. When he had chose to make the three days drive down to Texas. But he may change his mind in due course. Adam finished his coffee-making his way back inside his room. Putting his coffee cup on the sink. When he turns to pick up his bag. Leaving this motel room, to head towards the reception area to check out. He stepped in placing the key card in the drop off box. saying ”Cheers” to the receptionist. Making his way outside. Walking to his truck. Unlocking the trunk throwing his bag in. Making his way into the driver seat. To begin the drive down to Texas.

:::::::::::::::::::::::

Colt The top floors had been searched first and they'd found nothing now the team descended the stairs to what they believed to be the basement containing the bowler room etc. Dank and dark the basement was pretty damn big with rooms in itself. This was making Colt wished he'd called for a backup team but them again more men, meant higher possibilities of casualties. Signaling they split up, weapon at the ready he went point and led his guys down the east hallway looking for anything that stood out. Lights flickered overhead which could be a sign but could also show the date and faulty wiring of the place. Moving on coming up on a thick door to his right, Justin moved to the left and Colt turned the knob pushing it open. Quick scope of the room then pulling back, having not seen anything he moves around the frame and disappears into the darkness, Justing reaching for where normally a light switch might be flipping it on. Fluorescent lights overhead flickered and Colt moved further into the room checking it. Papers were strewn across the floor. He thought he saw what could be fresh blood on the floor and disappeared behind an old bookcase. Cast in the darkness he thought he saw something in the distance. On the other side of the basement, the rest of the team was mirroring his actions with nothing in sight yet.-  

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Sam walked out of the library with the sun splitting the sky. A pair of sunglasses would become in handy when he popped into a nearby store to pick up and pair of sunglasses to be able to see, with Texas been so sunny. Paying for the glasses and a packet of gum and a bottle of water. Sam continue with his travels as he was going to walk to the headquarters of Blackwater to meet with John and any other siblings. Arriving at the pretty impressive building and clearing the securities by giving his name he was escorted up to John Winchester office. Even this John Winchester had a duplicate clone which made Sam feel a little unease with not one John Winchester but two in this world. He had met either of them yet but were they just like his own father John. Sam and his own father were never on the best of the team with Dean always stuck in the middle. Now I was in a world I was learning about and with two John Winchesters and I don't have my own brother anywhere to be seen. How was this meeting going to go? He was a little concerned about the whole thing. When he knocked on John office and waited for a reply before opening the door. When John was sitting at his desk with piles of files. Through working them. "Erm John? It's San Winchester you sent me a text to come here"

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

John looked up from over the frame of his glasses at the young man coming through the door. The circumstances could not have been weirder but the love he felt for his boys had his heartwarming at the sight of Sam, even if he wasn't technically his son. Standing he pulled his glasses off and laid them on the desk and walked around to meet Sam, offering his hand.- Welcome to family Sam. I'm hoping we can put your mind to ease and help you any way we can. Would you like something to drink?

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Adam was taking his time his drive down to Texas to go and see his family. Driving along the interstate. Sometimes the roads were busy and quiet.  The road that was black in the day time just melted into the darkness of the night. When a car passed its headlights were reflected in the water that lay over the surface. There were street-lamps but they looked like they all had been sabotaged for their solar triggers. They rig things up with dirt over the sensor and then after some rain whatever they have rigged up explodes. roads are dark and the days are anxious, who knows what days would bring and what would strike would be next. The quietness of the traffic goes on his travel to Texas. He was getting tired from all the miles he was putting down. When he stopped off at a local gas station. When he needed to fill his truck up with some gas to make the rest of the journey. Stepping out of his truck. Cracking his neck from side to side. ” wow that's felt good” asking the attending to fill her right with up. 

Throwing his keys to the attend. Making his way inside the station to pay for the gas. Taking a Break from the drive when he orders a coffee and bagel. He sits at the window. Nursing his coffee when his mind wandered to the recurring flashback that saved him from the torture of when he was in the pit. His dream as of the day when him Dean Sam and Father would have a day out with no stress. They dreamed of the day when all the guys. They were all on a fishing boat on the lake doing some fishing. Even when he had never gone fishing before, trying to catch some fish from a bbq when we're intending to have that day when the sun when down. Having a real family day together with no worries and having some beers. Telling jokes and have some beers. He laughed when he could see the day ended end too well with himself falling in the lake trying to catch the bloody fish. But this was only a dream and he doubts this day would ever happen. With his family, all moved on with their lives in their own ways. Adam shaking his head to come back to this reality knowing he needed to get back on the road to get down to Austin. Where his father and Sam was. Taking his coffee and bagel with him. Leaving the gas station to walk over to his truck. Stepping in and buckling up his belt to set himself on his way. He wondered where his brother was. Michael sensed he wasn't with his father and Sam.

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Colt: Moving forward he knew if this was a spirit they already knew they were here and where but if the priest was down here somewhere he wouldn't so Colt spoke loudly.- “Father?! You down here! If you can help me somehow let me know where you are it would help! We're gonna get you out of here!! -As he moved further into the darkened area books began to fly at his head from around the room, concentration on avoidance of being knocked out he didn't see the teenage ghost until she'd rammed her hand into his chest squeezing his heart. Gun had dropped from his fingers as he gasped, face straining of the lack of blood flow. Seconds later Justin fired a salt round causing the ghost to disappear, Colt grabbed his own chest trying to recover, his other teammate handed him back his shotgun. “You okay boss? Looking peakish.” Colt laughed despite how bad his chest hurt and took the gun. “Spread out, look around. He's gotta be here somewhere.” They looked for a lightswitch, finding one but it didn't work. Cracking glow sticks they tossed out several. Looking things over Justin spotted some ectoplasm near what looked like another bookcase. Colt came closer and listened looking at the bookcase over running fingers under the shelves when he felt a cold rush of air go past him and behind the bookcase. “I think there's a passage back here.” Check the books as they did Justin pulled one and the lock clicked, the bookcase swung open. “Good job man, let's see if we can't find a priest and send Casper home.” Colt tossed several glow sticks out into the darkness ahead and the three hunters worked their way down a narrow hallway.-

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Sam took a seat in front of John when he glanced around looking at John office. Many thoughts popped into his head over how many time he was put in front of his father like this before. When it was like deja vu playing in his head when he snapped out of it. Shaking John’s hand, when he gives a little nod to John .* erm Sure. I'm good with whatever you’re having to drink is good by me.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::

John Pours them both a glass of whiskey and takes a seat.- So how are you doing with the displacement? I know all this has to be a shock to the system.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Adam stopped when he saw a woman hitchhiking at the side of the road. Letting down the window when he popped his head out the window with his shades on. Where Are you off too? When she wanting to get a break and get to Oklahoma. Deep down Adam was a good guy but never giving a break with his family. When he told the young woman to give in as they were in his direction he was going. The woman was grateful for the lift. When she was talking about her broken-down relationship with her boyfriend. When she needed to get moving. Adam just listened and kept his eyes on the road. In a few hours, he had reached the state of Oklahoma. When he stopped to let the woman #Toni buy him a coffee. 

When she thanked him and asked him what's in texas for him. He relies simply upon saying payback on the decisions of his life. He wished #Toni a goodbye and wondered what to do next. Alex was in two minds to whether chase after his dipshit of a brother Colt or keep driving down to Austin go have it out with its so-called family members of His beloved father and Brother Sam Not. Michael was monitoring where Colt was.  He had run off to be the goodie to shoe guy away running off trying to save someone else other than his brother. In that instant Adam was pissed. Loud and clear Colt he muttered to himself. You want to play two of us can play. When he turned up the radio when highway to youtu.be/ikFFVfObwss  to hell was playing. Typical just my life in a nutshell. When he started up his engine. putting his foot down and speeding down to Austin.

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Colt and the other hunters worked their way down the hall, he spotted a figure slumped over in the dark and went to him. It was the priest, checking to see if he had a pulse he sighed a breath of relief. Turning things over to Justin he picked the priest up over his shoulder and carried him out. About that time backup from the firm had shown up and after the priest was checked out and cleared to go to the hospital he spoke with the backup team. Overwatch had done their jobs and they thought they knew who the spirit was and where to look a young girl had gone missing and had never been found. One doctor had been suspected of her disappearance but they couldn't prove it. Blackwater had sent someone out to go talk to him and being in his nineties he'd caved to killing her and burying her in the back of the asylum. Colt joined the part of the team to dig and pulled the rest out for safety. She was going to be mad as hell when they salted and burnt her bones.-

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Sam took the drink from John before gulp the dark liquid sliding down the back of his throat before gathering up his thoughts before clearing his throat.

“ It's certainly different from what I'm used to walking about in this world where the people don't have a care in this world after what happened to my world. It's strange seeing all the faces that I knew but they are different just like you standing here in front of me John, you are like my father but you aren't him too. What about you John is it strange for you to see so many Deans walking around?

[dipulb3]

2021 Mini Countryman Oxford Edition is an OK value, but at what cost?

New Post has been published on https://appradab.com/2021-mini-countryman-oxford-edition-is-an-ok-value-but-at-what-cost-2/

2021 Mini Countryman Oxford Edition is an OK value, but at what cost?

You’ll never confuse this car for anything else, except another Mini, maybe.

Andrew Krok/Roadshow

Mini’s Oxford trims are meant to provide great value for new car shoppers without breaking the bank. New for 2021, the Mini Countryman Oxford Edition wraps those efforts in a compact SUV shell, giving buyers extra space without a significant footprint. Trouble is, when you strip away the fripperies that Mini shoehorns into its more expensive variants and start comparing it to the competition, what remains doesn’t exactly feel like a great value.

Like

Unique aesthetics

Decently roomy

Don’t Like

Incorrigible nickel and diming

Asthmatic inline-3

Uncomfortable ride

The 2021 Mini Countryman is a quirky little thing. In a world of ever-sharpening creases and aggressive styling, the Mini’s Hardtop-but-stung-by-a-bee curvature offers a friendlier aesthetic alternative. The headlights are anime-character big and the Union Jack design in the taillights is fun. The Oxford Edition rides on 18-inch wheels (the base model gets 17s), making the whole shebang look a little less entry-level than it is.

Inside, the Countryman’s aesthetics again separate it from the pack, but at the same time, it feels a little meh for a car carrying a $30,000 price tag. None of the softer plastics feel particularly premium, but they do a great job at picking up and holding onto more dust than harder materials generally would. The massive swath of trim across the middle layer of the dashboard looks cool on more expensive variants, but the Oxford’s shiny gray piece looks kind of dull and cheap. It’s better than piano black, though, because this one at least hides fingerprints better. Then there’s the aviation-style switchgear, which will forever remain the most rewarding toggles to flip in the auto industry.

2021 Mini Countryman Oxford Edition has a fresh, friendly face

See all photos

Despite its small form factor, the Countryman is decently functional. The tray ahead of the cup holders is good for stashing a phone or a mask, while an exposed tray under the armrest is sizable enough for a small purse. Visibility is solid, too, thanks to tall glass and styling that doesn’t sacrifice much for an attractive roofline. The Countryman’s shape also means there’s ample interior space for adults across both rows.

The 2021 Mini Countryman is not without its drawbacks, though. The cargo area has a low load floor, which is nice, but its overall capacity of 17.6 cubic feet behind the second row lags behind nearly every feasible competitor, from premium offerings like the Volvo XC40 (20.7 cu. ft.) to mass-market subcompacts like the Kia Soul (24.2) and Hyundai Kona (19.2). The single USB-A port up front smashes your cable against whatever’s in the cup holders. The interior door handles are the opposite of ergonomic, a feature I have disliked from the beginning. Perhaps most galling, though, is the second-row center armrest, which doesn’t exist without a $850 Convenience Package that isn’t even available on the base trim. 

BMW’s determination to squeeze every milliliter of blood from the stones that are its customers’ wallets extends to the Mini Countryman’s in-car tech. As a young, strapping new-car buyer, perhaps you’ve heard of these little things called Apple CarPlay and Android Auto. Perhaps you’ve noticed that they’re now standard equipment in a staggering number of new cars across the socioeconomic spectrum. While the Oxford Edition does offer an 8.8-inch touchscreen display that’s larger than the standard 6.5-inch getup, you can’t get it with Apple CarPlay, Android Auto or navigation. It’ll still play music from your app of choice via USB or Bluetooth, but if you’re driving somewhere unfamiliar, you’re stuck trying to stare at a tiny Google Maps screen down in the cup holder. Considering you get CarPlay standard in a Chevrolet Spark, Mini’s decision to lock value-seeking buyers out of a generally vital technological inclusion is, frankly, stupid and pointless; sure, it’s available on other trims, which makes the omission here feel entirely unnecessary. The massive, LED-bedecked circular bezel around the screen makes it hard to press the tiny icons along the touchscreen’s edges, but generally, this iteration of BMW’s iDrive software is fine.

Since the Oxford Edition is meant as a no-haggle, what-you-see-is-what-you-get sort of trim, safety systems are limited to the most notable ones. This Countryman comes standard with forward-collision warning, automatic emergency braking and rear parking sensors. If you want access to adaptive cruise control, a head-up display or self-parking assist, you’ll have to move to a more expensive trim and throw a $1,250 package into the mix. If you’re looking for lane-departure warning, lane-keeping assist or blind-spot monitoring, you’ll have to look at a different car entirely.

The Mini’s interior hasn’t changed too much over the years.

Andrew Krok/Roadshow

That leaves us with the driving experience. Guess what? That’s underwhelming, too. The Countryman Oxford’s sole engine offering is the base 1.5-liter inline-3 that produces 134 horsepower and 162 pound-feet of torque. It’ll generate enough oomph to dart through urban traffic with ease, but it feels dead below the belt in wider-open suburban and exurban settings. Constantly sounding as if it’s performing under duress, this three-banger does not like the highway, and even something as simple as accelerating from 70 to 80 mph requires planning. The situation is dire even on paper, with my all-wheel-drive tester set to reach 60 mph in a leisurely 9.6 seconds.

The seven-speed dual-clutch transmission is at its best when it doesn’t need to change gears; pushing off from a stoplight feels clunky, deceleration incurs low-speed driveline vibrations and the stop-start system is so annoyingly obvious that I’m willing to pay the extra gas money to keep it off permanently. It’s not very efficient, either, offering just 23 miles per gallon city and 32 mpg highway as it tries to shove around 3,300-plus pounds with four driven wheels. Oh, and it requires premium fuel.

Maybe the ride is OK? Nah, fam. In its own website copy, Mini refers to the Oxford Edition’s fixed suspension as “super-tight,” which is accurate to the benefit of nobody. The Countryman is perennially stiff, transferring all manner of bumps and humps directly to the occupants’ skeletons, and in urban areas where the inline-3 thrives, that means the ride will almost always be uncomfortable. Sure, its handling is flat as a pancake, which could make for some exciting times on curvy roads, but not when an engine this weak has to move this much mass with a transmission that is loath to act with any degree of haste.

Mini’s little three-cylinder engine may be fine in purely urban environments, but once the roads open up, it’s hard for this little guy to maintain pace.

Andrew Krok/Roadshow

I could forgive a lot of this if the 2021 Countryman Oxford actually presented a solid value, but BMW’s influence bleeds into the price, too. Including $850 in destination charges, my all-wheel-drive tester rings in at $29,350, which I feel is about $4,000 too high given what you can’t get. Yes, there is some value inherent in some of the standard equipment, which includes automatic climate control, heated front seats and the larger touchscreen, but when you line this wannabe-premium offering up against mass-market subcompact competitors like the Hyundai Kona or Mazda CX-30, it’s hard to recommend the Mini when its rivals offer so much more. Slightly more expensive base-trim variants of the Mercedes-Benz GLA-Class and Volvo XC40 feel far more fully baked, too, even if the window sticker asks a bit more from your paycheck.

That’s the trouble with the 2021 Mini Countryman. Even in its Oxford Edition trim, trying to stand out from the crowd isn’t enough to outweigh an undermotivated powertrain and strange feature packaging with some very notable omissions. If you simply must worm your way into the BMW lifestyle before possessing the financial means to put a Roundel in your garage, the Countryman will serve its mission, but when you take a variety of other factors (and cars) into account, its luster fades quickly.

Climb in the driver’s seat for the latest car news and reviews, delivered to your inbox twice weekly.

[onkey-bedtime-stories]

EUNOIA - Pilot

Waking up to nothing when you’re super far for home And I watched you fall asleep at night and lay there on my own Got me begging for affection All you do is roll your eyes Broken down, I’ve had enough If this is love, I don’t want it – Super Far, LANY

***

‘Enjoy your trip! Stay out of trouble :)’

She wipes the screen with her thumb. Endlessly. She read it again and again, each letters, hoping it would be changed miraculously.  For hundreds time. Or maybe more. If there’s one thing that she’s grateful about, it is the fact that so far, Jungsoo and her are not awkward to each other. On the text basis at least. She hasn’t figured it out how it would feel when they met. After that night, they haven’t had chance to see each other again.

Two and half years. Almost thousand nights shared together, thousand sunsets and sunrises. A beautiful journey to pursue, until both are too tired to compromised, Jungsoo more likely. At the end of the day, he had different dream. Different expectation.

The last two months are very dreadful for Eunsook. She kept blaming herself until her best friend convinced her to rest her case. Free her soul for her own good because she deserved better.

So when Junghee offered to come over visit her and Minho to their new house, she didn’t think twice booking the ticket for a summer escapades. And now, here she is, anxiously waiting for her flight at the boarding room. Checking her phone continuously without even aware that she’s torturing herself for some ruined story.

Drown in her thought, she jolts a bit when the phone vibrates in her hand.

“Where are you now?”

She massaged her forehead hearing how her best friend shouted, “I just texted you ten minutes ago. Of course I’m still waiting for my fuckin’ plane!”

“I wonder if you left your mouth at home purposely when you’re studying at school. Your language sounds uneducated. Besides, it’s not annoying when your best friend checking on you to make sure you’re not suicidal.”

“Best friend won’t make up a scene where I’m doing such a reckless action.”

“Who knows you became an extremist!”

“As if! I won’t kill myself over a guy!”

“This one is not just a guy. This one is an ex-fiancée-to-be.”

Eunsook sighed again, and Junghee frowned on the other line.

“Are you okay, honey?”

“We are not even thinking about engagement, Junghee-ah.”

“And that’s why I always said that he’s stupid.”

“He’s not.”

“Then what?!” Junghee’s almost shrieking on her couch.

“He just realized I was holding him back.”

“Holding him back for what?! For a better life?! How can you still defend him? At this point I cannot tell who the brainless one is.”

“You are the brainless one! You got married too fast!”

Eunsook tried to divert her to the topic she loves the best.

“Don’t blame me! Minho is just too good!”

“And you’re too weak.”

“Who can’t resist a very beautiful rose diamond ring?”

The lady sitting next to her gives her the eye when Eunsook cracks loudly.

“My materialistic woman. This is why I love you, Kim Junghee!”

“Come here quickly! I miss you so much you have no idea!”

“I miss you too, baby! I’ll see you in couple hours!”

“Stay out of trouble! See you soon!”

Eunsook pressed the red circle on her phone. Same words, different feeling, she thought. She sighed for the umpteenth time that day when the announcement is telling her to get on the plane.

***

“Lee Eunsook!!”

Junghee already shouting when there’s still around 100 meter distance between them. Minho can only chuckle and try so hard covering his face while his wife embarrassing themselves. She beams right away when she saw Junghee jumps around flailing her arms, looks like a very excited five years old.

“Oh my good grace! Finally!”

Minho automatically takes Eunsook’s luggage from her hand when he saw Junghee hugged her excessively.

“You’re killing me, woman!”

But Junghee doesn’t care because she understand what Eunsook had been through.

“Let’s go! I’ve cooked your favorite dish!”

She doesn’t allow Eunsook to have time to think again for she’s afraid her best friend would feel lonelier after she released her from the embrace.  

“Fried chicken?”

Her lips pouting immediately, “Your second favorite, then.”

“Seafood?”

“What the hell, Lee Eunsook! Italy changed you!”

“I always love fried chicken and seafood!”

“Whatever! You need to eat! A lot! I don’t like be friend with a walking skeleton!”

“Can you see my thighs are bigger than yours?”

Junghee just ran faster to the exit direction, preventing them to recognize the full brim on her eyes.

“What have she cooked, actually?” Eunsook can’t help but ask Minho while they walked side by side.

“The whole restaurant.”

“What?!”

Minho laughed when he saw Eunsook’s eyes doubled their size, “You know it’s her way to comfort people around her.”

“I know.”

“And she wanted only the best for her best friend. If you know what I mean.”

“And I know exactly what you mean.”

“You okay now?”

Minho’s voice sounds concerned and he didn’t even try to hide it, “Taemin called me. He said you’ve been weeping like a trooper’s widow. I’m quoting, here. Not my own words.”

“That ungrateful traitor. It was two months ago. I’m doing great ever since.”

He turned his face to seek for the truth on her eyes but Eunsook is too smart to hang the poker face perfectly.

“Come on, or your wife will kill both of us.”

Minho shrugged, remembers very well how Junghee stomped around the house cursing for hours when she knew the reason why Jungsoo told her how he felt, a week after Eunsook’s birthday.

***

“So you will back to Italy?”

“I think so. My boss doesn’t have the guts to keep me on the office with only my study visa. He already did his best to let me extend my internship for one more semester, though. Now I have no more reason to postpone my graduation. So, yeah, I will be back to Italy next month and graduate in October.”

“If only it’s easy to get a job in Netherlands, I would ask you to move here.”

Eunsook chuckles and takes another sip of the beer, “No need to worry, baby. I’ve applied for some job in London. Their response’s so far so good.”

“I really hope you got this one!”

She raised her eyebrow when she caught Junghee is half squealing, “Why? So I’d forget everything about him?”

Caught red handed, Junghee gulped down her wine quickly.

“Well, 80% yes.”

“And the rest?”

“So I get to visit you in London! That would be amazing! Junghee and Eunsook take London down the sequel!”

Eunsook doesn’t need to be told to crack on huge laughter. Back then, after their high school graduation, they decided to take a gap year and went to London to learn better English. Eunsook, while taking a part time as staff in museum on weekend, started the class right away since her father already arranged everything on the institute for her. Junghee on the other hand, ditch the English class for studying painting and working in a restaurant at night instead. But that’s how she met Minho who happened to be a part time student taking night shifts there.

“Why you always get the best part when it comes to London?”

“Life is a choice, honey. You can be a traveler but you’re too cool so you choose to be a designer.”

“It’s not fair.”

“Everything is fair in love and war.”

“And what’s from that has thing to do here?”

“I don’t know.. I think I’m already drunk.”

The two best friends start to laugh again, immersed with the each-other-life-catching-up-session, they aren’t aware Minho is already by the door, sweater on and keys in hand.

“Baby, I’m going.”

“Oh! What?! Where?”

“I’m picking Kibum up. It’s raining and he’s afraid it will ruin his equipment.”

Both checks the window and found out its pouring hard outside, “Oh I didn’t realize.”

“Who will realize if they’re too excited interrogating Eunsook?” She’s jutting her mouth and Minho kissed her goodbye, “We’ll grab some drink after and be back soon!!”

Junghee’s shooing her husband away and when she’s back to her best friend, the latter knits her brows together, clueless all over her face.

“Who is Kibum?”

“Ah! I forget to tell you! He’s the guy who’s currently living in the other room.”

“And who’s the guy that currently living in the other room?”

Junghee bursts out in an un-ladylike laughter and Eunsook’s getting more annoyed, “Sorry, baby. Well, Kibum and I went to middle school together. He’s happened to be Minho’s neighbor back in Seoul. He was searching for a temporary place to stay when we put the ads of the vacant room online. He’s a photographer and has some project here for his indie magazine. So, yeah.”

“So, yeah?”

She rolled her eyes, “I mean, I know it’s my bad, I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you this before. But you’re okay with this, right?”

Actually Eunsook is not that comfortable because she’s the only one who doesn’t know this Kibum guy. And since middle school, she realized she hates being an outcast since she’s quite awkward with new people.

“Well, this is your house, so…”

Knowing the nature of her best friend, Junghee jumped a bit on her seat, “Don’t worry, baby! He’s a really nice guy. You’ll like him in no time, I promise. He’s too busy anyway, so I guess it’s rarely you’ll meet him in the house.”

“Whatever.”

Eunsook muttered almost silently and thank God Junghee didn’t catch this one.

***

“Any idea what you gonna do today?”

Junghee dropped pile of pancakes on Eunsook’s plate, making the latter’s eyes filled with happiness. Warmth of jolly brought Junghee beaming so wide, after all, seeing her best friend still her best friend, a girl who appreciates simple things and turns it into happiness.

“Have no plan. I just bought the ticket, packed my stuff, and flew here. No itinerary, no schedule. I’m a complete blank paper now.”

“Good!” Junghee took a place in front of her and started her own breakfast, “We should go shopping today! It’s been so long since I bought new shoes.”

“Then what do you call those brown leathery goods you purchased last month, love?”

Minho rests his arm across her shoulder while take the seat.

“That’s because it was on sale! And it came in a set with yours! I got that because we couldn’t buy it separately if we want the sale price, Mister!”

“For God’s sake! It’s not even nine! Can you both let others have a quiet breakfast?”

Eunsook’s eyes darted to the stair at the corner, and she became restless out of nowhere. A tall guy with pale face paces down, dark hair bounced fluffily like a black cotton candy with each step. Those skinny jeans seemed too tight on his long limbs but he balanced it somehow with an oversized t-shirt.  He walked pass them to grab some coffee as if Eunsook is not there.

“This is my house and I can do whatever I want, dude.”

Minho throws a grapefruit to his direction which the latter luckily caught it.

“I will kill you if you made me drop my cup. That lady next to you will voluntary skin me alive if I messed up her kitchen!”

“You deserved that?”

Three of them keep arguing and laughing while Eunsook has her lips sealed, trying to enjoy her pancakes peacefully, ignoring the scene happened there even though she knew it’s getting hard for her to swallow each bite since the bright room suddenly is too suffocating.

Until Kibum realized he’s a stranger to someone. He gave Junghee a hint with his chin and she makes a voiceless ‘O’.

“Eunsook-ah! This is the guy I told you about. Kibum, this is my best friend Eunsook. She will stay here for vacation. And I will not only skin you but sell your flesh to the market if you dare to make a move on her.”

Eunsook almost spilled out the coffee inside her mouth, she tosses the closest napkin to Junghee’s face which luckily dodged it very well.

“And you only blame me while it’s also your fault for having a friend who is too pretty?” he stretched out her hand to Eunsook, “Kim Kibum. Nice to meet you, and please ignore Junghee whenever she said bad things about me. She still holds grudge since middle school because I grew 12 centimeters taller than her.”

“Lee Eunsook. Don’t worry, she’s too loud I already cover my ears the second she’s about to open her mouth.”

A beautiful curve formed on her face, she smiled so bright Kibum got dizzy for a moment. There’s something so soft touched his heart and he’s pretty sure it’s related to those fluffy rosy cheeks.

“Can you stop hogging my friend’s hand like that?!”

Minho let out a poisonous laughter because he understands why Kibum acts like that. Eunsook herself is already crimson red when Kibum retreat his hand.

“See?! This is your fault, Kim Junghee.”

“You are the one who cannot control your thirst!”

“Forgive me, princess,” he cocked his head to Eunsook, “But your friend really has wild mouth. I can’t resist slapping her sometimes.”

“Oh, please be my guest! Since I have no heart to harm her even though she deserved it.”

Junghee balled her fist when Kibum and Eunsook join the force through a friendly high five, leaving Minho with no option than console her by kissing the side of her head.

“Don’t worry, I still love you, baby.”

“You better be!” she then kissed Minho which the latter complied.

Eunsook naturally can only pull out a bitter smile. The scene happened in front of her, it would be hers six months ago. She would be exactly like her best friend, in love and beloved.

Whilst Minho and Junghee are busy in their own bubble, Kibum didn’t fail to catch the changed expression on Eunsook. But he’d rather to shake it off than ask her further question or make sure she’s alright which might too rude for a new acquaintance.

“Go back to your room if you want to continue for the second round! This view is polluting my precious eyes.”

“I said this is my house, Kim Kibum.”

With that Minho continued peppering his wife with kisses all over her face which makes Kibum decided to imitate puking voice that surprisingly makes Eunsook chuckled.

Once again, something soft tickling Kibum’s heart.

***

Sometimes, we just don’t realize we will meet the one, do we? Love after all, is a beautiful thinking that we probably only dream about until the tiniest detail of each counterpart, but turned us to be so oblivious when it brought into reality. Isn’t it pretty amazing? :)

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Chapter 2