#She was quickly replaced by another Walmart phone

[scramratz]

After 4 long years, my beloved telephone, Diane, has finally died. Bricked unexpectedly, your loss will be felt by all who knew you.

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

Excuse the rambling below. Let it be a warning of the sort of posts that happen if you have no one to tell your day to…

The shopping is done, and I WILL be going to the con! Woo-hoo!

What a day, though.

Before I even got out of bed I had gotten myself locked out of my bank account. I hadn’t been awake, and had a headache, so maybe that’s why I typed my password wrong three damn times! So now I had to call them, only they don’t let you until after 8am and I’d gotten up extra early to try to get the shopping done before the rain.

Getting out of bed I knocked the machete off where I keep it. It used to be on the bookcase by my bed, but when I moved that it ended up on the storage container of clothes. And it quickly became a comedy routine with the risk of getting cut…

What? You are hung up wondering why I have a machete next to my bed? Well, it had to go somewhere! It’s kinda funny, but my family tends to have potentially “deadly weapons” within reach, but only kinda accidentally. Like, they are tools, especially something like machetes, and we stuff them wherever we have a space and won’t get lost. Not getting lost is the trick. You wouldn’t believe the things we find in between strata of our book mountains!

Anyway, I knocked it off, set it on the corner if the container but didn’t get the belt and rope attached to it on the container, and down it went again. I picked it up again, but by the sheath, and tiled. Out fell the blade. I tried to but the machete back in the sheath and had it the wrong way so it wouldn’t fit. I wale up enough to realize what I’m doing wrong, get it right, and set it back where it goes. Satisfied I start to walk off, only the end of the rope was around my foot and down it went again!

On with the morning where it was one thing after another, until I could call the bank.

Only THAT turned out to be a problem too. Some of the time the phone didn’t work. Sometimes they didn’t have the info at hand. “Account PIN”? i have my debit card PIN, but it’s not the same, and the automated voice (why did I have to wait until after 8 for an automated voice?) keeps saying “I’m sorry, we are having trouble verifying your account while I hunt for anything where it might be written. Or my account number, since who has that memorized?? I called six times before I got it so I could reset my password. And we all know I am going to put in the old password next time.

Then it’s looking at the bank account and going “YIKES, where did all those charges come from!?” Oh, it all made sense. The dog medicine. The kettle to replace the one that broke (we had that old one as long as I can remember**sniff**) The ant poison. But it took time.

Time. A crowded gas station. Lines in stores of people preparing for the storm. Repair work at a store that required me to walk to the other end of the store from where I parked. People that were super chatty…

Speaking of chatty, a woman working in Walmart got talking to me. She was telling me the trouble the storm will be for her. Her road floods all the time, and that could end up getting her fired if this storm is bad. She told me all the ins and outs of working at Walmart, how the laws in NC make things even worse for employees, that sort of thing. I felt for her. Companies don’t need to care about the folks barely, or not at all, making a living wage because there are always the desperate waiting to take their place. Hell, if my ankle could take the standing for hours retail in the US demands, it might me.

Recently someone was venting to me about a person they had been paying to help them work on a house, and then suddenly they said, “hey, can you paint?” Sure, I can paint walls! I’ve done it before. She says she’ll get me to help her and even pay me to do it. Okay, I’d lend a hand for free, but I can use the money so “Yes!”. Then they didn’t ask me. Because there is always someone else eager to be paid.

You’d be amazed how well I saved money, the things I didn’t buy. Oddly this month being meatless is bugging me less than not getting any nuts. Dang it, I’ve craved some nicely salty nuts for so long. I promised myself at least some store brand peanuts, but $3 is $3 I’ll be glad of later….

And then a Dollar Tree I bought a book! LOL I didn’t intend to, but I can’t stop myself from browsing books. They hardly have any so it only takes a few seconds. It isn’t even my sort of book, but I noticed a “signed copy” sticker on the cover. It’s only $1.25 and when am I going to stumble on signed copies of anything when I can’t even go to bookstores?

So, I can skip food and not books. Typical! LOL

UGH! My period started in the middle of shopping. So now I was stressing about blood, but at least it meant my headache was finally gone.

I only had to get the hog food and kerosene and….It poured!! If I hadn’t had to waste time with the bank stuff I would have gotten done before the rain hit. I got the stuff though. I held and umbrella over the kerosene cans while I pumped. The dang pump is always sooooo slowwww, which normally is irritating but this time made the risk of getting water in the kerosene worse. I did well to keep the cans dry while I hunched there with water cascading off me.

There was FINALLY a break in the rain…after I’d driven home and completely unloaded the car.

BTW, having the fridge on the back porch is only mildly annoying most of the time, but when it’s raining heavily and all the cats have taken shelter there, and you are trying to out away a groceries….VERY annoying! Guys, you won’t even want to eat most of this!!!

Of course, you can never tell with cats. Nony adores peanut butter. I used to have a cat, Fizzgig, who would devour popcorn (and not even buttered!) But no, darlin’, I am not sharing this….

Until I do. (See Nony…I swear he pulls a Puss in Boots on me all the time!)

While I was gone UPS had left my package. In the rain. On the ground. Where I park the car. GEEZ! It was the replacement kettle, so it couldn’t be hurt, but the delivery person didn’t know that!!

And then I did normal (by my standards) stuff. But I’ve already written too much and..

**poke**

You still awake???

Okay, well, all that was my losing track of what I was writing. I could have just said “I did the math and, barring some unforeseen disaster in the next few days, I get to go to the con!”

Which, I already did in the first sentence! LOL

[shurisneakers]

harmless (i)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader)

Warnings: cursing, nonsense writing

Word count: 1.5k 

A/N: listen i just needed something to keep my mind busy and a perry the platypus!bucky and dr. doofenshmirtz!reader was the only thing i could think of. dont have any high expectations from this series, you will be sorely disappointed.

If you have any ideas for this series, lemme know!! it’d be cute to write!!

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Series Masterlist

Bucky Barnes, for all intents and purposes, is edgy. 

His SHIELD salary is definitely enough to afford him a simple beanie, gloves even if he’s that eager. His long hair, though a spectacle in itself, isn’t as good at keeping away the cold as he claims it to be. 

It’s a personal choice, a fashion statement even, to be roaming the streets in a long flimsy t-shirt that does nothing to accentuate his broad shoulders, and tactical pants that look a little too comfortable. 

It’s cold. He says he likes it, to appease his blond haired best friend who insisted that he wear a cardigan at least. He won’t like it in a while, but he would never admit it.

The bike ride to the other side of town for a minor mission takes longer than he expected. The wind rushing by gets his adrenaline racing. 

Official missions are long and gruelling, and oftentimes not fun. But it gives him a purpose.

It’s easy, therefore, to find him brooding when he’s not on one. 

No one wants their room to be on the receiving end of Bucky’s stress-cleaning sessions. His baking is more appreciated.

So when there’s news of a small time villain creating havoc again, it made sense that he volunteered to go sort it out. No one else wanted the job. They’d all been at it before. 

SHIELD didn’t seem particularly bothered either. 

“It’s not that serious, Barnes.”

“I’m going.”

“Just stop her from doing whatever dumb plan she has today. She seems to have a new one every week.”

“Can I-”

“This is not an assassination mission.”

“Fine. Can I-”

“No.”

“Fine.”

He didn’t know what to expect. He had an idea of how they should be. Smaller villains tended to be more aggressive, vicious to prove their point. They were here to stay.

He wears his regular gear. Enough knives to make a butcher look away in shame, and guns including, but not limited to, his biceps.

He finally pulls the bike to a stop a few metres away, leaving it out of reach in case things got too out of hand. He didn’t want to have to walk back to the Tower, and his friends, as much as they loved him, would never go out of their way to pick him up. Little shits. 

The address is a dingy, plain concrete house near an old construction site. It was flat and felt more like an afterthought than an actual building. It looked more like an abandoned Walmart than an actual villain lair. 

The only entrance is the door in the front. He counts to three, lifting his leg to kick it down.

It falls down ungracefully, loud and creaky like it was bound to the doorframe by rust. 

The only light source inside is a green light. All the way at the other end on an elevated platform is a desk and a chair facing away from him. He can’t see much other than that.

Someone’s laughter comes back loud and booming. He raises his gun, feet apart in a defensive stance. 

“I’ve been expecti-” the voice pauses mid-sentence- “Did you just kick down my door?”

He looks behind him to where the wooden piece is on the floor. He certainly did.

He can finally see you as you stand up, green light illuminating your face. You reach over to the side, pressing a few switches. 

He squints when all the lights turn on, pulling the both of you from darkness. 

“Dude!” you cry out, face twisting into what only could be described as a mix of horror and disdain. “What’d you do that for?”

He doesn’t say anything but he doesn’t lower his gun either.

“You’re an Avenger, just fuckin’ pick the lock or something. This is expensive!” 

He only watches as you whine, looking beyond him at your now demolished entrance. You take a few steps closer, jumping down from the elevated platform.

“Insurance isn’t going to cover this.” You drag your palm across your fist before extending it towards him. “Pay up.”

He wasn’t sure if he heard you right.

“What?” he finally asked, voice gruff.

“All you superheroes go around, destroying walls and cars in the name of world peace like you own the damn thing. Not today, bitch boy. Pay up.”

He doesn’t have his wallet with him. He didn’t expect to need it.

“I’m supposed to be stopping you.” 

“You can do that once you pay for my door.” 

You sound resolute, unshaken. A little annoyed. There’s what appears to be a gun in your hand, although it’s unlike any weapon he’s seen before.

“What’s your plan?” Bucky looks at your hand. Your stare follows his. You lift the thing up and he tenses.

“I was going to freeze some jerk but now my plan is to get you cancelled on Twitter.” 

“Why?” his eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“Local superhero destroys property of tax paying citizen for no good reason.”

“I mean-” he shakes his head, discarding what you’re saying, “-why were you going to freeze someone?”

“Because I wanted to. But you’ve ruined the mood now, so that won’t happen.”

He blinks, lowering his weapon when he realises you weren’t making any attempt to move. “What’s your ulterior motive?”

“Nothing! I just wanted to mildly inconvenience that stupid fuck for being such a prick.”

He doesn’t know what to say. 

“Is that the freeze ray?” Bucky asks instead, raising his gun when he realises there’s a very real chance he could end up like his best friend. 

“You got a problem with it?” You hold it up carelessly. 

“I can’t let you use that.”

“That’s all you’re going to do?” you huff, “Is this what you call an intervention? This is so boring.”

“Give me the freeze ray and no one has to get hurt.” 

“No one was going to get hurt in the first place, genius. All this does is slow him down for 5 minutes so he misses the subway.”

There’s nothing technically that evil about what you’re doing. He doesn’t even know how you ended up on SHIELD’s radar. He gets why no one was particularly driven to take this seriously.

“And for fuck’s sake put that gun away. You’re not scaring me.” 

He doesn’t oblige, even though something tugs at him, telling him that you’re speaking the truth. 

“Here, take the stupid thing.” You don’t bother waiting for his response, bending over and sliding the gun towards his feet. “I’ll find another way to get back at that dickhead.”

It hits his boot with a small thud. He looks down. Its design is ridiculously comical, like you ripped it straight out of a kid’s TV show. 

“Next time, bring some drama. Wear a cape or something.” You wave him off. “Now get out of my lair. I need to fix the door.”

“You don’t have another one of these lying around, do you?”

“Why, do your friends want one too?” The glare you give him is dangerous. He doesn’t react to it. “No, it’s limited edition. I don’t build the same thing twice.”

“You have others?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, weather boy?” A smile grows on your face, dropping as quickly as it arrives. “SHIELD will tell you if I do. Now leave.”

Bucky looks at the freeze ray in his hand. He supposes his job is done. He was told to stop you, but you didn’t seem to have any inclination to go on with your plan.

“You can ask them if you want, they know about me.” You roll your eyes. “Go ahead, call them.”

He doesn’t want to take a chance. As odd as the situation is, it’s still novel and he isn’t quite sure how to deal with it.

He tucks your weapon under his arm, pressing his phone to his ear.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?” Maria’s voice is crisp as ever.

“I confiscated a... freeze ray.” He feels ridiculous even saying it. “But I’m going to bring her in to SHIELD headquarter-”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“But we can’t trust-”

“We’ve been keeping tabs on her for a while. She’s more or less harmless. You can take the rest of the night off, Sergeant.”

He cuts the call, not entirely at ease with the smug, expectant look on your face. 

Still, he couldn’t disobey direct orders.

“I’m gonna... go.” He mentions towards the gaping hole in the wall.

“That would be ideal, yes.” You nod, crossing your arm over your chest.

“Okay.” He hesitates, but finally takes a step backwards. He peeks over his shoulder as he leaves, but finds you swivelled away from him again. 

He steps back outside. The cold greets him again like an old friend. The weight of his weapons feels stupidly embarrassing now. 

It’s a long drive back to the Tower. He keeps replaying the entire story in his mind. He’s unsure of whether he made the right call, but no one else really seemed to care. 

He had seen weirder things. It came with the gig.

He leaves it at that.

“How’d it go?” Steve asks him when he walks into the living room.

“T’was fine,” he answers, toying with the stupid device he took from you. Maybe he would test it on Clint. He had been getting annoying lately. Breathing too much in Bucky’s general direction.

A part of him feels guilty for his carelessness towards your building. The other part is just bewildered. 

That night he looks up the cost it takes to replace a door, making a mental note to draw some money from the ATM soon.

Next part

[hqhunybuns]

hot, steamy, slow shower sex with osamu after practice 👁👁

I thirst after Osamu with a heavy passion 😩👌

Shower sex with Osamu after practice

The weekend never looked so dull-- usually your weekends were full of debauchery and mischief, either from the Miya twins antics or your other friends dragging you along to a sleepover or random three a.m. Walmart trips; it was a nice break from your usual rambunctious life.

Your parents had fled your home for the weekend, claiming they needed a weekend to rekindle their already over bloomed relationship, leaving you alone to do what you did best… binge watch tv.

The plush tan couch cushion you sat yourself in hours ago kept you cozy as you fisted snacks into your awaiting mouth, eyes never wandering from your show. It was late afternoon by the time you checked your phone for the first time today, not feeling bad for blatantly ignoring your boyfriend for mystical teenagers trapped in love triangles.

Osamu should be here at any time, or so you had thought. The next time you checked your phone, it was nearing nine at night. He was supposed to come by after practice and make dinner for the two of you, his idea, you might add; if you had it your way, your dinner would be mac and cheese and chicken nuggets-- but Osamu had standards, and he called that meal pathetic the first time he saw you eat it.

He was adorable in his own right, but it was annoying on how much he was a food elitist. You’re a grown ass person, you should be allowed to eat Oreos at eight in the morning as cereal without being judged!

Just as Elena had confessed that she loved Damon, the doorbell broke your concentration. Heaving yourself from the cocoon of blankets and pillows you had made for yourself on the couch, you swung the front door open and beamed.

“There’s my sweaty boyfriend! Come in, come in! I made you your own little fort beside the couch!”

The tall boy peered down at you, not entertained by your invitation, merely passing you and slinging his gym bag by the door. You grabbed his hand and drug him to the couch, pushing him into the bundle of plush pillows and warm blankets. He opened his mouth to speak but you quickly placed a finger over his lips.

“I have one more episode before this season is finished, give me forty minutes and you’ll have my complete and utter attention,” You removed the finger from his mouth and held up your pointer and middle finger in the air. “Scouts honor.”

Osamu didn’t object, he let you do as you pleased-- he enjoyed the fact you were sitting in his lap while engrossed in The Vampire Diaries, his arms encircled your torso and held you close to his built but considerably sweaty, body.

He entertained himself by texting his brother or scrolling down Facebook aimlessly, exhaling deeply whenever he saw a funny meme. He wanted to show you the deep fried minion meme but he knew that you were too engrossed in your terrible CW drama. 

“I knew it! I knew that was going to happen! This show is such bullshit, next season better be better or I won’t watch it anymore!” you huffed, slouching into Osamu.

He sighed and circled his thumbs on your waist. “You say that after each season.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, but maybe next season’s gonna get better.”

Sniffing the air, you whipped your head and stared at Osamu’s confused expression. “Why do you smell like you haven’t taken a shower?”

“‘Cause I came here straight from practice, figured you’d want me here soon as possible.”

The glimmer of a thought ran through your mind and went straight to your mouth. “Can I take a shower with you?”

Osamu smiled lightly, “Thought you’d never ask, sweetheart. C’mon, get up.”

You giddly jumped from his lap and to the floor, waiting for him to stand before ushering him to the bathroom, shutting the door behind the both of you. The gray haired boy wrapped his arms around you from behind and pressed his face into your shoulder.

“‘Samu, you smell like a teenagers sock drawer, let go so we can get clean.” you sighed happily, leaning into his embrace.

“Just missed ya’, is all.” he breathed, letting go of you.

The two of you stripped of your clothes, leaving them piled on the tiled floor. You opened the glass door of the standing shower and invited Osamu in, taking close attention to his nicely defined torso and toned legs, zoning in on his cock, which was already half hard.

Ice cold water spouting from the shower head caused you to yelp, but it was quickly replaced with a steady, warm stream. As soon as Osamu and yourself agreed with the water temperature, you turned around to face him. 

“It should be illegal to be that hot.” you commented quietly, cupping his face with your hands before placing a chaste kiss on his lips.

He chuckled before returning the kiss, dipping both of your heads under the downpour of water. You giggled into the kiss, breaking it to take a gulp of air, trying to avoid getting water in your mouth.

Osamu’s hands slowly cupped your breasts, his thumbs going to swirl your hardened nipples. Your breath hitched, leaning into him and your back arching. He claimed your mouth with his once more, licking your lip, asking for an entrance.

You obliged, his tongue slipping into your mouth as his hands didn’t seize their antagonizing slow assault on your breasts. Your hands trailed from his face to his hair, tugging on his dark locks lightly, bringing him closer to your body. He groaned into the kiss, groping your breasts harder.

“Osamu…” you hushed, pleasure dripping from your words. 

One of his hands continued their playing while his other one dipped to your throbbing sex, taking his time to spread your outer lips and plunge a finger into your pussy.

You gripped his shoulders, pleasure slowly rising and your stomach becoming warmer by the seconds. Osamu was relentless, adding another finger into you and proceeded to curl them as he thrusted. 

“Fuck, ‘Samu,” you moaned, your back hitting the shower wall.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re needy,” he praised quietly, removing his fingers and bringing them to his lips, licking his digits clean. “Guess I should give ya’ want ya’ want.”

His cock was more than hard, you could see it twitch with excitement. You went to grab his member before he grabbed your hand, stopping your actions. “Turn ‘round for me, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t just ignore him when his voice is low and raspy-- you’d pay him to talk to you for hours when his voice got like that, but then again, his voice got like that whenever he was ready to fuck you into oblivion.

Turning around, he bent your torso and had you brace yourself against the shower wall with your hands. If this were any other time, you’d be teasing him, but at the moment all you needed was to be fucked until you couldn’t stand.

Osamu’s hands gripped your ass with one hand and lined himself with your drenched hole with the other. Before you could hurry him up, he slammed himself into you, knocking the breath from your lungs.

He set the pace, with quick, hard thrusts that barely gave you time to recuperate. Your legs shook as you moaned in ecstasy, throwing your ass back to meet his thrusts. 

“I thought about this all day,” he groaned. “‘Bout how tight you’d be for me, and how you’d sound for me.”

You bit your lip and moaned, “Osamu, please! Please fuck me harder!”

He stopped his breakneck pace mid stroke and leaned over your back, his heavy, warm breath in your ear. “Ya’ sure you can handle it?” 

“Yes, please just ruin me already!” 

Osamu’s hips snapped harshly, his speed increasing tenfold. You could barely withhold your weight, but once his thumb met your clit, you thought you'd fall. 

His balls slapped against your ass as he continued to wreck your pussy, his grunts and groans going straight to your sopping cunt. Your pussy clenched against his cock and your lower stomach growing a tight knot. 

With a couple more thrusts, your pussy clamped around his cock, cumming around him. You swore you saw lights, your legs shaking as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm. Osamu stopped prodding your clit with his hand and gripped your hips, bringing you back into his cock.

“Osamu! Fuck, God, please!” you moaned, your body still sensitive from your orgasm.

He pounding into your cervix, his hands gripping your hips so hard you’re going to have bruises in the morning. “Say it again.”

“Osamu!” Your forehead rested against the shower wall as your boyfriend used you as a cocksleeve.

“That’s right, Y/n, I’m the one that’s fuckin’ ya’ this good.”

Your second orgasm was approaching quickly, and you could tell Osamu was reaching his soon, as his pace lost rhythm, his thrusts more erratic. Your cunt squeezed his cock with your second orgasm, garnering his own release.

He held your hips close to his, your pussy milking him for all he has. He gave a few more weak thrusts, riding out his orgasm before removing himself from you and helping you stand. He brushed hair from your face and looked deeply into your eyes.

“You good?”

You nodded, a lazy smile on your lips.

“Yeah, more than good. Now, let’s get cleaned up, season five is waiting for us downstairs.”

[spaceskam]

the kissing booth (5)

The end! Thank you guys for reading all of the stuff I’ve written, I really appreciate it ❤️️

ao3

Alex didn't stop to catch his breath until he'd run all the way to the parking lot. 

He ran to his dad’s truck that he’d borrowed to get the fundraiser, bracing himself against the door. His eyes closed and he tried really hard not to think about what just happened. Actually, who was he kidding? That’s all he could think about. Soft lips, soft hair, hard something else. 

Alex Manes had never kissed a man before in his life and now he just fucking went all in. After watching Michael for years, he saw his chance and he fucking took it. How could he stop thinking about it?

Alex touched his lips and had to take a deep breath to stop himself from running back. He wanted to so badly. He wanted to kiss him until he couldn't breathe, until his lips were numb, until he tasted his name on Michael's tongue.

It was insanity, really. Ever since he'd seen Isobel's post advertising that Michael would be here doing a kissing booth, Alex had been planning. He never thought he'd actually go through with it, though. He thought it was all fake plans that he'd never do like how he could commit the perfect murder or successfully steal from Walmart. But no. He'd heard Isobel say he was taking a break, he saw Isobel leave the booth, and he saw his opportunity.

But now he dealt with the possibility that Michael might know who he was. Or, worse, that he didn't know. That Michael had just kissed a perfect stranger like the world was ending and Alex was the only one who had all the pieces of the puzzle. 

What the fuck had he just done?

-

“Sorry.”

Alex stared, partially frozen in shock as the one and only Michael Guerin stood in front of him. He waited in baited silence for what felt like an eternity as he waited for Michael to point out that he was the one who kissed him, to tease him for it. Instead, Michael looked him up and down. His eyes hovered on the school’s emblem on his chest and Alex watched his smirk grow into place.

“Sorry, do I know you?” Michael asked. Alex felt his heart plummet, though he wasn’t sure why. He didn’t really want Michael to know it was him. Or maybe he did. He decided he would hate either option because he regretted doing it. Why couldn’t he get his first real kiss like any other guy? Ask someone out, go on a date, kiss them at their doorstep, that kind of stuff. Why did he have to be a creep?

“Uh… No, I don’t think so.”

“That’s too bad,” Michael said. That caught Alex off guard. Maybe Michael had noticed him around. 

“Right, well… See you around, I guess,” Alex fumbled out, quickly exiting himself from the situation before he brutally embarrassed himself. 

Alex stood outside with his drink and tried his best to calm down. Why did he have to do that? Why did he have to be so stupid? More importantly, why couldn’t he kiss him again when he wasn’t blindfolded?

“Hey, Alex!”

Alex looked up to see cheerleader Lucy Geraldo jogging over to him. She was pretty, he could admit that, but she wasn’t his type. She was missing a pretty crucial piece of identity to fit his type. However, that didn’t stop her or her friends from flirting with him. Maybe it was his fault. He had made out with Hannah Kay at that party sophomore year. That was what had confirmed to him that he was super gay. It also confirmed to everyone else that he was absolutely not.

“I was just thinking about you,” she said, smiling as she pulled her thick hair over her shoulder, “I was wondering if you were going to Hannah’s party this weekend?”

Alex gave a tight smile and chose a sturdy lie. “Nah, I have to study.”

“Oh,” she pouted, “Maybe we can hang out some other time?” 

“Maybe,” he said. She smiled and waved at him and he hauled ass to the Crashdown. 

Which would’ve been great if he didn’t run into Michael again. He shouldn’t have been surprised, he knew Michael had a thing going on with Rosa for years now, but it felt like an extra layer of bullshit. Couldn’t he just enjoy his misery in peace?

“I’m sorry, he flirts with everything that has a pulse,” Liz huffed after Michael left.

“It’s fine,” Alex said, shrugging his shoulders. He thought about coming out to Liz if only so he could have someone to talk to about it. He was resigned to his fantasies and they were becoming unbearable, but he didn’t know how to begin. “You think they’re hooking up?”

“Who, Michael and Rosa? Absolutely not,” Liz laughed. Alex raised an eyebrow. “I can’t say much about what’s going on because it’s not my place, but they’re just friends.”

Alex firmly decided he liked the idea of staying in denial that Michael Guerin wasn’t sleeping around like everyone said.

“Okay.”

-

Alex left the library with a smile on his face and the desire to jump and scream.

He just flirted with a guy. Like, a guy who was right there and could see his face and flirted back. It was easy. Michael was interested. Or, he at least seemed so. Alex wasn’t sure why exactly someone like that would be interested in someone like him. Maybe he was just flirting because he could.

It didn’t matter. Alex was happy. He felt confident. That was so rare. Suddenly, he was really tired of hiding.

Alex made his way to the Crashdown, still hyper and high on the fact that a whole ass man had flirted with him. He even let himself think that maybe Michael would’ve kissed him if he saw his face. Hell, maybe Michael even had been watching him too. 

“Liz, can I talk to you?” he asked. She looked up from to him and then over to her dad who waved her onto her break. The two of them walked to the back of the cafe and sat in a booth. He looked at her and, for the first time, said it out loud. “I’m gay.”

Liz’s eyes widened and her head moved back in shock. “Really?”

“Yes,” Alex breathed, smiling, “I’m gay. But you’re the first person I’ve told, so please don’t say anything just yet.”

“Of course I won’t say anything, oh my god, I’m so glad you told me,” Liz said, the shock quickly being replaced with a smile, “I-I don’t even know what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything, I just needed to say it,” he told her. He left out the part that he was super excited because he just flirted with a boy in public.

“That makes sense. I’m proud of you,” she said. He smiled wider.

This felt good.

-

Alex flirted with Michael the next time he saw him at Bean Me Up. He couldn’t help himself. 

He felt those beautiful eyes on him the entire time and he didn’t know how he’d ever gone without feeling them. He was more than convinced now that Michael had noticed him before that first time they spoke. He was just too smooth, too cool, too perfect. He had to have prepared.

He was high on life, on being out, on being noticed.

-

“How long has he been sitting there?”

“Four hours.”

“Jesus Christ, why didn’t you call me?”

“My phone is dead!”

Rosa cursed under her breath and made her way to Michael Guerin. Alex had been watching Michael since he’d been there for only about ten minutes. He’d been methodically shooting the same four rubber bands into the same cup over and over and over. He was wearing what seemed to be four layers of clothes and his eyes were empty. It was the most out of it Alex had ever seen a person. It was particularly weird to see him like that. He was always so full of life, so present. Alex didn’t understand.

Rosa hugged him and brought him food. Every movement Michael made was in slow motion, still seeming not all there. Alex tried to imagine a time he felt like that, but he couldn’t. Michael seemed to be completely removed from himself.

“Can you wash his clothes when you’re done down here?” Rosa asked Liz who nodded.

“Hey, Rosa, wait,” Alex said before he could stop himself, “What’s going on?”

Rosa sighed and clearly seemed to be debating what she should say or shouldn’t say. She settled on, “He’s just not himself right now.”

Sometime in between it all, Michael looked up and made eye contact. Usually, he would smile. Usually, he would say something witty. Today he seemed to not even register that he made eye contact.

“Liz,” Alex prodded after Rosa had dragged Michael upstairs, “What’s that all about?”

“I shouldn’t say,” Liz hesitated.

“I wanna help though,” Alex nearly whined. 

Liz waited a moment and looked around a few times before leaning in close. 

“He kinda doesn’t have a place to live,” she said softly. Alex furrowed his eyebrows and sat back. How did someone like that not have a place to live?

Whenever Alex thought of the word homeless, he imagined people on the street who hadn’t bathed in years. He imagined old men with beards and shopping carts. He imagined… anything but a high schooler who had a truck and friends and a sexy smile. It didn’t compute.

“I don’t understand,” Alex said. Liz just gave a sad little smile.

“I don’t know much. I just know he’s been through the foster system and it didn’t go well,” she said. Alex nodded.

The next few days Alex spent padding out his shed. It was already pretty set for someone to stay there, but he decided to add another, thicker blanket and made sure everything was clean.

For once, he had nothing by confidence as he went to talk to Michael. This wasn’t about him this time.

-

“Who do you think carved those initials?”

Alex tilted his head as he took in the heart that had “H.R. + K.C. ‘54” written inside it. Ever since he’d found this time, he’d brainstormed on who those two could’ve possibly been and why they spent their time in the shed. He always came up with a different story. A married couple who built it, a ten-year-old girl in love with her neighbor, a boy who was about to go to war and wanted to make sure there was something permanent, an elderly couple who wanted to reminisce. 

“I don’t know. Could be anyone,” Alex said. Michael hummed softly which easily dragged Alex’s attention onto him. He was laying in bed, a blanket draped around him. He looked comfortable and like he was meant to be there. It made Alex’s heart skip a beat.

Things with Michael felt so comfortable. They’d been doing this for almost a month now, hanging out alone and just being. He could say anything without fear and so could Michael. He’d gotten to know him in a way he hadn’t expected and he liked him even more now. He liked the way he trusted him, he liked the way he joked around, he liked the way he had told Alex things that seemed so heavy and yet he made them seem light. Hell, he even liked the way he didn’t really flirt anymore. He was real around him. Mask off.

Fuck, Alex was in deep.

“Maybe it stands for Henry Rollins and Kevin Costner,” Michael began softly. Alex snorted, but let him continue. “Star-crossed lovers who couldn’t be seen with each other during the day, so instead they came here at night to be together.”

“Romantic,” Alex said.

“Very.”

Alex stayed in there for a little while longer, laying on the floor and thinking about what his life had become. He wasn’t sure how he’d become the type of person to provide food and shelter and warmth. He liked being that person. He liked being that person for Michael.

When he looked over to him, he saw that he was sound asleep. He was gorgeous when he slept. Well, he was gorgeous always.

Alex quietly left the shed and tried his best not to focus on how full his heart seemed.

-

Oh, how could life possibly be better than this?

Alex had mixed feelings the minute he let Michael into his house. He saw the way Michael looked at all the expensive shit his father put on display, he noticed the way that had suddenly activated his flirting again. Of course, that sort of got confusing during the haircut. More confusing when Michael outright asked if he was straight. Things were very confusing.

But staring at him while he was asleep just a few inches away? There was nothing confusing about that.

The room was shrouded in darkness and Alex had already tugged the blanket over them both. He knew he should’ve woken Michael up so there would be no confusion. But the problem was that he was already sure he’d fucked up, so why not fuck up more?

Slowly, Alex reached his hand out. He moved slow and careful, gently dragging the back of his finger over Michael’s jaw. He was tempted to just put his whole hand on his cheek, but he didn’t. He already had done that when they’d kissed all that time ago. He knew what he felt like. 

He touched him for a few seconds before Michael’s face scrunched up in the most adorable way, but Alex couldn’t watch because he was too busy snatching his hand away and pretending to be asleep.  Michael made a confused little noise as he woke up. He didn’t move for a second, but then he did and when Alex peeked his eye open he saw his face buried in the pillow.

He wanted this forever.

The whole weekend went that way. Bonding, talking, being close. They slept in the same bed, they ate the same food, Michael used his shower.

“You know, I knew you were rich, but you’re like… really rich,” Michael commented late on Saturday night. Alex had shown him how to make pad thai even though he was sure Michael wasn’t paying attention.

“Old, dirty money,” Alex said with a shrug.

“What does your dad even do?” Michael asked. Alex looked at him, watched as he continued to look around. 

“He’s military, but he has a lot of stocks. It’s all shares my great, great grandad had, passed onto him,” Alex explained. Michael nodded with an impressed look, giving him that flirty little smile.

“So you’re gonna have all that one day?” Michael asked. Alex felt his stomach tighten up in a way similar to when Michael had started flirting after registering the emblem on his uniform.

“Yeah.”

“That’s pretty hot,” Michael laughed, taking another bite. Alex changed the subject.

They climbed into the same bed that night, they whispered to each other, they slept in, they laid in bed for hours. It was so comfortable that Alex forgot. He let himself forget, he let himself focus on this. He just wanted so badly for this to be real. That a boy like that liked someone like him.

And then Michael sat him down.

“This whole weekend got me thinking really hard… I like you.”

//

“This is a bad idea.” 

“Why? I think I’m fucking brilliant.”

Michael ignored the way Rosa stared at him, eyeing him like she was super worried. Which she probably was. She seemed to only worry when it came to things about him. Still, he ignored it and continued to make sure he looked hot enough to meet the man of his dreams.

“Yeah, I know you do,” she said, “But whoever kissed you might not want to meet you somewhere so public.”

“It’s not that public though. That’s why I chose Bean Me Up, it’s small and can’t be too crowded,” Michael pointed out. Rosa sighed.

“Maybe, but that doesn’t mean people aren’t going to crowd anyway. You advertised it and there are probably going to be people who are going to lie. Either to make fun of you or to trick you. I just don’t think this is smart and that’s coming from me,” Rosa said. Michael didn’t respond. He didn’t know how to.

It was true, he had advertised it. After loudly announcing it at the football game, he decided to be a bit more specific and got Isobel to make a post similar to the original kissing booth one. He put out a call for the guy who kissed him to meet him after school and that all he had to do was tell him what they talked about before the kiss.

“Michael,” Rosa said firmly when he turned around. She grabbed his arm and made him look at her. He did if only because she never said his name like that. “You are being reckless. What is going on? Are you okay? What happened?”

He stared at her for a minute and tried to find a quip about how she wasn’t his therapist. He found it hard to do that. She was always there for him and he was sort of being a dick in general. Michael took a deep breath, calming himself down enough to feel that dull ache in his chest resurface.

“I told Alex that I liked him and he freaked out on me about how I was just saying that because he has money,” Michael said, “I don’t even know why he’d even think that and I just… I need a good distraction.”

“And you think finding someone who kissed you in secret will do the trick?” Rosa asked. Michael shrugged.

“Worth a shot.”

“Have you thought about asking why Alex thought that? I’m sure there’s a reason. He’s a tame kid,” she said. He shook his head.

“Nah, I don’t want to make it worse. I’m just gonna put it behind me,” he said firmly. She gave him an unsure smile.

“Okay. Please be safe.”

“I will.”

-

So maybe Rosa had a point. 

Between 4 PM and 7 PM, seven different guys had come up to fuck with him. It was a nice, firm kick to the ego. The first hour, people had gathered around out of curiosity to see what guy had kissed him in such a weird way. It dwindled and dwindled as time went on which only made Michael feel even more deflated. He just wanted someone. Was that so hard to ask?

“Hey, I gotta go. My mom’s gonna throw a fit if I stay any later,” Isobel said around 8:30. Bean Me Up was only going to be open for 30 more minutes. That meant 30 more minutes before he was forced to face the reality of rejection. “Are you gonna be okay?”

“I’ll be fine,” he promised. She gave him a sisterly smile and leaned to give him a hug.

“Let me know if he shows. And, if he doesn’t, come over. We can watch romcoms and eat ice cream and Mom can just get over it, okay?” she said. Michael smiled and nodded.

“Absolutely.”

When the clock hit 8:45 and he was the only one left in the shop, he was thinking about just heading to Isobel’s anyway. Leaving early would be better than being completely stood up. But then again, he’d already made it this far.

“We close in five,” one of the two baristas left said as the clock struck 8:55, sitting a full to-go drink in front of him with a kind smile, “On the house.”

“Why? Am I that pathetic?” he joked. Sort of. She still laughed.

“Well, no. You actually gave us a ton of free advertisement, so thanks for the nearly $300 sales jump today,” she said. Michael huffed a laugh and raised his drink to her.

“No problem,” he said, “I’ll head out so I’m not a dick.” 

“Well, wait, you still have four more minutes,” she told him, “You never know what could happen.”

So Michael waited.

8:57

8:58

8:59

“Can I sit here?”

Michael looked up to see Alex standing there. He looked fucking beautiful as always which was just annoying. Was he here to rub it in?

“I’m saving it for someone,” Michael said. Alex took a deep breath and nodded.

“Yeah, I know.” And then he sat down.

Michael stared at him for a few seconds before he got what he was implying. But what he was implying was impossible. Complete and utter bullshit. Michael shook his head slowly.

“What?” he breathed, eyebrows tugged together. Alex shrugged one shoulder.

“Now that I’ve seen you shirtless, I’m second-guessing the cub label. Maybe an otter in the making? Not sure,” Alex said. Michael felt like he couldn’t breathe. What the fuck? What the fuck? “They’re closed. Drive me home?”

“I… I don’t…” Michael fumbled out. This didn’t make sense. Why was Alex here? He rejected him. He didn’t like him. He wasn’t… This wasn’t… What? “How?”

“I’ll tell you,” Alex promised, looking so sincere, “I promise.”

Michael stood slowly, his head spinning and he had to grab the table to balance himself. Alex was mad at him. Alex didn’t know him. Sure, Alex had the cheekbones and the physique and the lips and the voice and fuck.

“I don’t fucking get it,” Michael said as they stood beside his truck. Bean Me Up had locked their doors and closed the blinds to give them their privacy. Alex was holding his drink since he was too lost to comprehend.

“I talked to Liz and she kinda explained to me that I was being irrational. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions and I definitely shouldn’t have hidden this from you. I should’ve just talked to you and I’m sorry for being selfish,” Alex said sincerely. It sounded way more sincere than when he’d freaked out on him. But, still, he couldn’t figure it out. He almost didn’t even care about the rejection anymore.

“I don’t understand how it was you,” Michael said, shaking his head, “I would’ve known. I mean, I should’ve. I hung around you, I heard you speak, I smelled you. How didn’t I know?” He paused for a moment. “You’re not fucking with me, are you?”

Alex gave a tight little smile and shook his head. 

“I wasn’t out. I’m still not, not really,” he sighed, “Look, when I told you I’d been idolizing you for years… I wasn’t lying. When I saw my opportunity, I took it and didn’t even think twice about what it meant. Then when we started hanging out, I was in too deep and I didn’t know how to bring it up. Then I got confused and, well, that ended badly.”

Michael rubbed his hand over his face, still trying to make sense of it all. “So, you don’t think I only want you for money?”

Alex visibly cringed. “I am so, so sorry for accusing you of that. I guess I just didn’t think you could like me and you mentioned the weekend and over the weekend you’d mentioned my dad’s money and, I don’t know, it was just a lot happening in my mind. Which isn’t an excuse. That was shitty of me and I will make it up to you.”

“Yeah,” Michael breathed, “I guess… I guess I’m just still…”

Alex sighed loudly and placed the cup on the hood of the truck before stepping into Michael’s space. He grabbed his cheeks and he kissed him. It wasn’t as wild as that one in the booth, but it was still a kiss from Alex. And then it made sense.

Michael went to push in closer, but Alex pulled away.

“Not here,” he whispered, “I just wanted to show you I’m not lying.”

Michael nodded. He knew he wasn’t. He’d been dreaming about that kiss and he’d been dreaming about Alex and suddenly it just was all one and it was all real and it was all here. Again, he felt like he couldn’t breathe, but for an entirely different reason.

“Can we go to the shed?” Alex asked. Michael gulped softly and nodded. There was nothing he wanted more. He was allowed to touch Alex. He could have that.

The drive to Alex’s house was very full of Alex apologizing in length. He explained that he was just overwhelmed and confused, but he should’ve talked it out first. He told him that the kiss was a spur of the moment and he told him that he’d been crushing on him forever. He confirmed that the weekend had meant a lot to him too. And he told him that he was gay.

“You’re only the second person I’ve told,” Alex said, “So… I’m still trying to figure it all out.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to come out until you’re ready,” Michael assured him once he found his words.

“I mean, I kinda don’t have a choice now. People are gonna want to know if you found your guy,” Alex said, taking a sip of Michael’s coffee. That did things to his mind that something as simple as sharing a cup shouldn’t do.

“Fuck them, it’s our business. I can just tell Isobel and Rosa that I found him, but not elaborate on who and then everyone else can fuck off,” Michael decided as he drove the bumpy terrain that led to the shed from the back way. Alex huffed a laugh.

“You can tell Isobel and Rosa,” he said.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. They love you, so they deserve to know that I’m not fucking torturing you. Or, at least I hope not.” 

“You aren’t.”

When they got to the shed, Michael sent both Isobel and Rosa a text to tell them how it went. Then he focused on Alex which was easy.

The tone between them changed as they got into the sanctuary of the shed. It felt slightly tainted from the last time they’d been there, but then again, not really. It was just that they were alone now.

“I’m sorry,” Alex said again.

“Stop apologizing,” Michael said, slowly moving closer. He wanted to get his hands on him. He wanted to kiss him again. He wanted to make up for three months of being lost. 

“I’m not experienced,” Alex warned as Michael gently grabbed his hips.

“I don’t care.”

“I’m sorry,” Alex said one more time. Michael huffed and shook his head, wrapping his arms around Alex and tilting his head for a kiss.

The kiss was slow and deliberate, taking it one step at a time. Michael wanted to soak in it this time. He wanted to be sure without a doubt that this was Alex and that this was his. This was his choice.

Alex wove his fingers into his hair and his lips parted, his tongue sliding over Michael’s in a way that was far too confident for a boy who claimed to have no experience. His hands moved up and his elbows rested on Michael’s shoulders so he could cradle his head closer. This made sense. This was coming home.

Michael pushed his shirt up to feel his skin. It was soft and warm and inviting. They made their way to the tiny bed and shared it for the first time. They fit well. His hand moved down a little bit to the hem of his jeans only to be stopped by Alex’s hand on his wrist.

“Not today, okay?” Alex whispered. Michael nodded easily. Happily, even. This was new. Slow. He could do slow.

“No problem,” he said, “No pressure.”

Alex stayed the night in the shed that night. Michael finally got his kisses and his cuddles. He finally got Alex.

As he drifted off to sleep with Alex in his arms, he thought about those initials on the wall. He decided that the story didn’t matter. It was two people who loved each other and this shed meant something to them. He made a mental note to add another heart.

A.M. + M.G. 

[kucheek]

I Gave A Homeless Man A Home

[PART 2] ~pending

requested: yes! this was also the imagine out of the last three that got the most notes, so as promised, I’ll finish out writing out this video. maybe not all at the same time bc i have a few more requests to start.

request: LOVE YOUU

Hi!!! Can you please do imagines/ a series based on mrbeast videos where the reader is in a relationship with jimmy so basically fluff?❤️ Btw I love your work!!

pairing: mrbeast aka jimmy x reader

// Yeah, super late haha but with school, work, and other circumstances, I don’t have too much time to write. BUT, I’m making as much time as possible. If anyone has any requests, feel free to send them in or just words of encouragement which i love v v v much! They do motivate me very much to get off my butt and write.   //

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

“Is it going to fit?” You bit the side of your cheek, looking at the TV measurements. “What are the wall measurements?” You glanced up, all the boys staring at you blankly. “...did anyone take the measurements?”

“Y/N, we’re professionals.” Chris frowned. “of course we didn’t.”

“Maybe we should call Chandler and ask if he even wants a TV?” Jimmy suggested, already pulling out his phone. You drew your eyebrows together and huffed. “how is that going to help? Even if he wants to get the TV, which he will, how are we going to know it’s going to fit?”

Jimmy waved off your logic. “let’s see if he wants this...” He quickly put the phone on speaker and after a few seconds, Chandler answered, “hey, what’s up?”

“Hey, do you think he wants this TV?” A few seconds passed without an answer and just as you were going to say something, Jimmy spoke quickly before hanging up, “alright, we’ll get it.”

Your eyes widened. “Jimmy-”

“It’s fine, it’ll fit.” He assured you, patting the top of your head in what you assumed he thought was comforting, but at the moment, you found incredibly patronizing.

You gave him the dullest look you could muster, “how do you know? You didn’t measure the ‘freakin wall.” In the background, Garrett and Chris were moving the TV onto the cart, when Chris spotted the TV stands set right next to them, “hey, TV stands!”

“Jesus Christ.” You mumbled, crossing your arms. You should’ve measured the wall. Assuming the guys had done it while they were going around the house, pointing at things that they needed to replace and buy, was obviously a bad call.

Turning back to face Jimmy and ready to argue, he had already noticed your sour mood. He smiled lightly, and poked at the sides of your mouth, “come on, turn that frown,” he moved his fingers up to try and make you smile, “upside down.”

You felt a crack in your angry front and swatted his hands away, “I’m still peeved that you didn’t measure the wall.”

“It’s going to be fine. It’s just a wall,” he dismissed, moving his hand to pat your head again. “Fine,” you sighed, “but when the TV doesn’t fit and the refrigerator is too big, I’m going to say I told you so.” Just as he was going to respond, Chris called you over to look at the TV stands that he had been sifting through.

“If we get him a nice TV, we got to get him a nice TV stand, right?”

At this point, you just resigned the idea that we were actually going to think through any of these purchases.

Checking out was a quick process that you were grateful for and you were finally on your way to Walmart, your final destination of the day.

-o-o-o-o-o

“We should just go through the aisles and get things as we go,” you suggested, crossing your arms on the handle of the Walmart cart, moving it forward through the entrance.

“We need toilet paper.” “Are we going clothes shopping too?” “Can we get strawberries while we’re here? They’re on sale, look.”

After trying to make everyone on the same page, you gave up and just moved forward on your own, everyone trailing behind you like ducks. You felt a little like an overexerted mother, with three hyperactive children when shopping with the guys. Weaving through a few aisles, you made it towards the paper towels and toilet paper-esque aisle. You were looking at the prices when you felt a jostle. Chris and Garrett were throwing things into the cart, you laughed slightly and moved the cart backward causing the toilet paper to fall on the ground.

“Saboteur,” Chris said loudly, pointing at you, “Jimmy, she’s cheating!”

“You’re cheating!” Jimmy grabbed a toilet paper pack and threw it at an unsuspecting Chris. “ah, why?!”

Not even managing to get out of the aisle, Chris found something and stood in front of your cart, stopping you from moving forward. “We almost made a very bad mistake,” he started, holding up a plunger. “...you need a plunger,” he finished, plopping it into the cart.

You quickly noticed that there was a recurring event that happened when going through the aisles. Right as you were going to exit, someone found something that needed to be added. From lemon scented Swiffer pads to multi-colored napkins. And if you were being honest, you didn’t think anyone even bought a Swiffer. With that thought in mind you rolled your eyes, sneaking the box out and placing it onto a random shelf.

“Hey, I saw that.” you paused and gave Jimmy an innocent look. “saw what?” He was leaning forward, hands on either end of the end of the cart.

“You’re tampering with evidence,” he said, matter-of-factly. You snorted, trying to move the cart forward, “there’s no evidence. Move it or lose it.”

-o-o-o-o-o

“He’ll need some glasses,” Chris said, hefting up a box and placing them into the cart. It had been a while since Garrett tapped you out to push the cart, as it slowly got heavier and heavier with everything that was being added.

You and Jimmy were in another aisle, looking through other appliances while Chris was in the one over. “Old people love...” Chris tapped the cover of the box. “...countertop ovens.” At that point, you and Jimmy were entering back and Chris motioned over. “dude, Y/N, Jimmy, tell me I’m wrong.”

“You’re wrong,” you answered, still absentmindedly scrolling through your phone.

“You didn’t even see!”

“We still need bathroom stuff, don’t we?” Garrett mumbled through a mouthful of chips. You sent him a strange look, and he offered you a chip innocently. “I’ll buy them! I’m just hungry, I thought we’d be done by now.” 

Your group ambled into the toiletry aisle and everyone was picking through the items and dropping them into the basket.

Jimmy was staring at two bottles of shampoo before taking his phone out of his pocket. “I’m going to call him.”

You rolled your eyes and raised your eyebrows slightly. “if you keep calling Chandler, you’re going to give it away.”

“Maybe he’ll think I’m just being a good friend,” Jimmy argued, dialing his phone. Quickly putting it on speaker, he picked up a Suave bottle. “hey, is he a Suave or a Head & Shoulders typa guy?”

“Head and Shoulders,” Chandler answered back immediately, to your amusement. “Gotcha.” Jimmy nodded, setting back the Suave bottle and grabbing the other. “Head & Shoulders, it is.”

“You pronounced it wrong,” you mentioned, grabbing back the Suave bottle. “it’s Suave, not Suave.” You teased, tapping the title of the bottle. 

Jimmy squinted at the title and waved his hand. “what difference does it make, potato, potato.” You only managed to walk a few steps before there was a new distraction.

Chris was holding up a bag of maxi pads. “do you think he needs these?”

“Ahh, doesn’t hurt,” Jimmy shrugged.

“They’re like band-aids,” Chris observed, reading the label. “he could probably use some bandages.”

“Yeah,” Jimmy affirmed, holding up his arms and rubbing at his elbow. “like, maybe for his elbow.”

“Yeah, these are elbow band-aids, right Y/N? You’ve probably used these before.”

You’d been doing a good job keeping your laughter in check, but after Chris said that, you snorted. “completely Chris. They’re elbow band-aids. For elbows. Nothing else.”

“Which shampoo do you use?” Jimmy asked randomly, holding up two bottles in your direction before you left the aisle. You glanced at both bottles before picking up another from shelf. “you should know. You use it all the time.”

He scoffed, snatching the bottle from your hand and reading the label. “I do not!”

“You do.” Garrett added, popping into the conversation. “you always smell like lavender.”

“Why are you smelling me?!”

“Because you smell good!”

-o-o-o-o-o

video timestamp 3.08

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Of Dust and Ashes (chapter 8)

Good Morning and happy friday. Should I stop saying happy friday since it’s Dust day and well... yeah? ANYWHO, Y’all have waited for our lovely OC and Clint to meet and the time is upon us! Actually- it’s not, that’s next week. But GO YOU for waiting TWO MONTHS for the main characters in a romance fic to even meet.

Chapter warnings (because there are always chapter warnings with this fic, except that one time there wasn’t):  general undercurrent of mental and emotional pain. Surprise assault, sexual assault, implied plans of future rape and sexual assault (what will happen? Who knows!), Dog bites, mentions of suicidal thoughts, mentions of hopeful thoughts, mentions of religion.

Chapter 8: When it all goes sideways

Day 39 Post Decimation

~~~~~<3

Clint was up early, dragging himself out of the too hard guest bed before the sun had done more than just lighten the sky. With the reality of his situation weighing on him, he filled a bottle with water and pulled himself behind the wheel of the truck he kept but rarely drove. He needed supplies to survive until he had some sort of plan as to how he was going to move forward.

He also needed coffee but if he stayed in that house a moment longer, he would go mad. He needed a break from it all, for a few hours. It was too much to be surrounded by the things he had shared with this family for too long.

Leaving the farm would be dangerous until people settled into the new way things worked or until the government took control back from the people. With all the political unrest he had seen in his life, it looked very much like what he had seen in the time since he had left New York. It likely would be rebellion on a large scale all over the country- hell all over the world and he didn’t expect that it would come to an end any time soon.

Slowly, he made his way toward Kansas City. He took his time, stopping at every town along the way to gather what supplies he could while checking the political and social environment in the areas surrounding him. He had wasted too much time already and now he had to play a game of catch up.

It was vital to know the situation in the communities surrounding where his home was. That was the only way he could hope to get an advantage in protecting what little still mattered. Mostly, it was empty buildings and empty land that he found. As he moved about in small towns he would catch sight of people looking from windows carefully, watching him. In these towns he would only take a little, if there was anything left to take at all.

He hoped for better pickings to be found within the City where many wouldn’t know what they should have taken for survival. The ignorance of city dwellers could always be counted on. Still, it had been a month and he knew better than to hope for too much.

~~~~~<3

~~~~~<3

Deanna carefully moved into the city. The summer heat was beating down on her from what felt like everywhere. Heat radiated up off the asphalt and off the cars. Still, she felt safer weaving her way between cars rather than walking in the open where she would be uncovered. The cars offered her some cover as she made her way into the city, giving her a place to crouch and peek ahead. It was a long walk but until she was closer she didn’t want to risk picking up a car only to have to ditch it at a roadblock.

It was close to noon when she had finally felt safe enough to grab a car from one of the seemingly abandoned dealerships. They had become one of her favorite places to pick up cars. Normally they got good millage, their tanks had plenty of fuel and were often free of both dust inside and decomposing bodies.

She hated driving around, it could draw too much attention but cities were far too big to travel on foot while gathering supplies. It was simply a necessity regardless of if she wanted to drive or not. Grand theft auto was becoming routine for her. She hardly gave it any thought anymore. A rock through the window, find the keys, break into the locked case- typically with the use of heavy things or tools from the shop- and find the car it matched and off she went.

With wheels, she set about finding store. While she drove, she allowed the radio to search for any signals. All it found was static however and she quickly turned it off, preferring the silence and Trust’s panting over the sound of static as she drove. It occurred to her that there was no reason not to grab some CDs. The RV had a CD player as did most cars. Why should she live in silence?

The always familiar big blue sign of a Walmart caught her eye and she wasted no time pulling the truck into the parking lot and backing close to the doors. The glass was shattered on the ground, blown around by the wind and shards covered in a layer of dirt or dust, perhaps both. As she always did, Deanna told Trust to be mindful of his paws as if he would understand her. So far they had been lucky and he hadn’t cut himself on broken glass and that was good enough for her.

As she moved into the store, she clicked the flashlight on her phone on. Grabbing a cart, she set her backpack inside and looked at the mess inside the store. The produce section was nearly empty but what had not been picked clean was molding. As she walked, she found the frozen sections were in a similar state. The general smell within the store was fairly bad.

She was able to find cans of broth and piled them into the cart. Water was cleaned out but she had expected as much. In a pinch she could always just drink straight broth though she couldn’t see it coming to that any time soon. With the salt in the broths, they couldn’t replace fresh water but it was something she could cook in rather than using water.

Surely the government would be back before things got to that point, wouldn’t it? In the very back of some shelves she was able to find some cans of vegetables and fruit. She was surprised to find any at all but it seemed some people didn’t think to crouch down and look in the very back.

It had become surprising, the things she could find in cities that people didn’t think to take. Cleaning supplies, hygienic items and such were often still sitting on shelves. All sorts of goodies could be found in the backs of shelves, left behind by people who didn’t think to kneel down and look in the back.

Two large bags of rice, a heavy bag of flower and just as heavy bag of sugar was added tot he cart. More yeast could be valuable for trading- it had already earned her fresh produce once, it was worth taking what she could to see if she could make that happen again. Peanut butter, jelly and cans of soup were all hiding in the backs of the shelves. A handful of cans of tuna and a good ten cans of chicken was sitting ignored on the shelf. It wasn’t exactly the plethora of food she wished for but it was something.

Dog food was still sitting on the shelves and Deanna could only assume whoever was still in the city hadn’t become desperate enough to resort to eating it. That was all the better for her, she grabbed the largest bags she could and slipped them under the cart. Right in the middle of the store, she grabbed a can of wet food and popped it open. She dumped the food in a bowl from the display and Trust was thankful for another meal, having eaten the can she had brought shortly before they made it to the car dealership.

In the kitchen section she grabbed up some heavy cast iron pans and a dutch oven. Some baking dishes went in next, small cookie pans and a six cup muffin tin found their way into the cart because- why not?

In the book section, she found a few cook books and tossed them in the cart as well as a few paper back books that looked interesting enough. There wasn’t a reason not to, really. While living now was hard work, she had down time with her current set up. She’d always said that she wanted to start reading more, what better time?

A sky blue bedding set was tossed onto of the full cart as her circle through the store neared an end. She stood in front of the fishing gear before she would make a right turn and walk down the back of the store. The flashlight lit up fishing rods and cases full of things she didn’t really understand or know how to use.

She grabbed a rod that looked as good as any of the others and handfuls of whatever looked useful. In a case was jars of what claimed to be salmon eggs and she tossed jar after jar inside. She may not know how to fish but she may as well try and learn. On her way out, she grabbed laundry detergent and more dish soap and that was it.

~~~~~<3

~~~~~<3

Clint was perched on a stairway outside a fourth floor apartment overlooking a Walmart in Kansas City. He planned on crashing here for the night and taking his time working his way back to the farmhouse the following day. Whoever had lived in this apartment had been paranoid and for that, he was thankful. It was a jackpot complete with instant coffee- not his favorite but better than nothing.

The door had shown signs of someone trying to break it down but the heavy locks did their jobs. Whoever failed to get inside clearly were not skilled in picking a lock, unlike him. The locks did little to keep him out. Inside he found cabinets full of canned food. With the door locked behind him, a can of peaches in his hand and his bow and quiver at his side, he watched.

The city wasn’t abandoned, that much was clear to him though the remaining people went to great pains to make it look like it. Even before the truck pulled into the Walmart parking lot, there was people moving in the distance, staying in the shadows.

Just because they didn’t want to be seen didn’t mean he didn’t see them. Women would be ushered through dark doorways without so much as a peep. Clint wondered if those women were free to leave, if they wished.

Below, a woman with a dog was busying herself with loading a cart full of some of the oddest things into the truck bed. The dog food made sense to him, as did the large bags of flour, sugar and rice. What didn’t make as much sense to Clint was the bedding. She didn’t see the men as they moved into the parking lot swiftly, baseball bats in their hands. It was clear that they meant her harm. Clint wasn’t one to sit back and watch when she had no chance against the twelve or so men stalking her.

~~~~~<3

~~~~~<3

Deanna nearly jumped out of her skin when Trust barked, hackles raised and a deep growl spilling out between bared teeth. They hadn’t been together for long, all things considered however she trusted the dog with every ounce of her being. Still, there wasn’t a lot she could do other than be on guard and pray that it was just another dog that upset Trust.

With gun in hand, she slowly pushed the cart outside. There wasn’t much she could do to peek outside. For better or worse, she had no option but to inch outside with every muscle in her body tensed. It looked clear enough and she set about loading the truck after hushing Trust. The faster she got the truck loaded and out of there, the better.

Trust dashed around the front of the truck, hackles raised and looking wholly ready to defend her life. Deanna didn’t have time to think much of it as she wrestled things into the back. A large fluffy cloud crossed over the sun as the breeze picked up, sending dust into the air around her feet. It felt like a warning in that moment, even if she couldn’t even begin to know how sideways things were about to go.

She didn’t hear him come up behind her. Maybe she would have, if not for the snarling barks of the dog and her blood rushing in her ears. Maybe not. In the end, it didn’t really matter, did it? You only get one shot at things like this and so all she could ever do is guess.

Rough hands grabbed at her waist and pulled her back from the truck. A dirty face and greasy hair sneered down at her. For a short moment her mind went blank. When she jerked the gun up, his hand caught her wrist in a bruising grip. Fingers dug in to the soft flesh of her wrist, tips digging between the bones. Though she tried not to, she cried out when her fingers went numb and the gun slipped to the ground.

In that way that one notices unimportant details when adrenaline floods the body, Deanna noticed the dirt caked around the man’s nails. His whole hand was covered in dirt, as if he hadn’t even seen water in the last month. If she splashed his hands with her bottle, she was sure that the water would run off his fingertips nearly black. She felt dumb for noticing such things, now wasn’t the time to gauge his hygienic practices but she couldn’t help it. The mind was a strange thing, like that.

“Let go of me!” No matter how she yanked, his grip was unrelenting.

“Not happening.”

She struggled and kicked at him but it seemed to take no effort for him to get both her hands pinned in one of his. The weight of him pinned her against the truck as his free hand grabbed at her, pulling at her clothes and hair. Her mind was a blur of half formed thoughts and ideas as she tried to fight him off of her.

With a twist, she almost got free but just as his hands slipped off her arm, they locked around her waist. With a grunt of effort, he hauled her back and threw her against the truck. Air left her lungs in a rush and she struggled to breath. It was pure luck when her heel made contact with the man’s crotch.

Behind her, anther man screamed, his voice blending with the shouts of the man who had been attacking her as he fell to the ground, clutching himself. She couldn’t see it but Trust had his jaws locked on the wrist of another man. The man with the greasy hair pulled himself up against the truck just as Deanna had slipped away.

She was so close, so very close to getting away. Her fingers curled around the handle to the driver’s door when she was yanked back with enough force to rip her shirt. A scream ripped from her throat but she didn’t hear it.

The man, this one blonde yanked her back. In the struggle, she twisted her ankle and white hot pain rushed through her only to be quickly forgotten as she tried to get away with hobbled steps. She didn’t have long however before she was thrown up against the side of the truck once more.

The screams of the man Trust still had locked in his jaws echoed and chilled her to her core even as pleading words pooled out of her mouth. She tried to convince the blonde haired man to let her go, using anything that came to mind as leverage. Perhaps she had gone so far as to even offer up her home on wheels. Later, she wouldn’t be able to recall the things she said and in the end, it didn’t matter. The man could not be bought or bargained with.

What she would be able to recall was the way his hands grabbed at her, pulled at her clothes. There were vile promises falling from his spit covered lips and while she couldn’t recall the words, the memory of their promise would chill her to the bone. As he grabbed at her breasts, he told her of the things his band of thugs did to the women in their care. The way they were slaves to what the men desired. He promised that she’d be cooking their meals, cleaning their messes and seeing to their every need. As if he had left any doubt, he ground his hips into her.

Though she struggled with a renewed energy, she couldn’t get away. His fist bunched in her hair and the pain of it combined with the helplessness and frustration to bring tears to her eyes.

“Just kill me.” The words slipped from her lips as a whimper. In a passing way she had no time to give thought to, she realized that was what she had really wanted. She was a coward, yes and would not seek it out but now- she could beg for death without regret.

“Not until we’re done with you.” He yanked her forward. “Don’t think we’ll go easy on you just because you’re pretty.”

She didn’t think it was possible to want to live in this world, yet she did. It was strange, how the mind could jump from wanting death to wanting to live in the span of a few heartbeats but she did. Perhaps it wasn’t so much that she wanted to live but rather that she didn’t want to suffer for who knows how long while waiting for blessed death.

If she could just get away, she promised herself she would make for herself the best life she could in the new system. Not a single day would be taken for granted. Every sunrise and sunset would be admired with all her heart. If she could just get away, she swore she would never wish for death again. If she could just get away.

She had thought she had wanted to die, not even a few weeks ago and had gone so far as to think about just ending things. She was far too cowardly to act on such thoughts.

If she could just somehow get out of this situation, she would live her life. She would live her life the best she could to make up for the lives her children wouldn’t get to live. She would pick flowers. She would sing songs. She would make a home for herself. If only she could get away.

The man’s callused hands slipped under her shirt for a better grip on her and tears dripped from her chin. Words still fell from her lips, pleads for mercy. She promised them anything, everything she had owned- she would give them. All of her water, all of her food, everything. All she wanted was the be allowed to leave, allowed to live without suffering at their hands.

It wasn’t enough for them. They wanted her.

It had been a long time since she had been faithful. With the emergence of the Norse gods within the realm of reality, it was hard to know what gods were real, which where true gods and if any actually answered prayers. For all anyone could know, they were all aliens. She, like many had lost any real faith. Still, as the man pulled her head back by her hair and wrapped his grimy hand around her throat, she prayed to a nameless god.

She begged any god who dared to listen, any god who may even give the slightest shit about her and the remaining humans to spare her from what they had in store for her. She begged for a sign that she could continue on. She begged for a sign that she wasn’t spared from the decimation, just to suffer through this. She begged whatever god may hear her for a sign that she didn’t outlive her children just to be a slave to a gang. While her vision grew fuzzy and darkness swam around her, she begged for a sign.

She kicked and clawed with what little strength she had even as she felt hope slipping away from her. It was just as well, she thought. She would see them again soon, if she was lucky. If she was lucky, they would kill her soon and she could hold Frankie and Aurora in her arms again.

~~~~~<3

Tag List (as always, if you want on- let me know): @usedtobegoodfriend96, @0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-9, @theoneanna, @alexakeyloveloki, @toozmanykids, @j-u-s-t-4, @missaphrodite23, @winterisakiller, @bambamwolf87, @nonsensicalobsessions, @tinchentitri, @michelegurl, @carissime72, @xoxabs88xox, @tnystrk-exe, @queenoftheunderdark

[helpinghanikan]

In the family

Avengers (and Matt Murdock) x Reader

Sum: Family business is good business, how you fit in is to be seen. 

AN: Mob au

Steve Rogers:    

           A single lamp was on in the corner of your living room. Steve had tried to stay up for you again.

           He’s sitting in the corner of the couch in his regular clothes. One leg up, head leaned back against the arm rest, one arm over his face, probably placed there after “shutting his eyes for a few seconds” that resulted in the nap.

           A drawing pad is open on his lap, pencil fallen from his hand and onto the floor. It was the pad you had bought him awhile ago, the big expensive kind. “I saw it on my way back,” You had said. “It was on sale,” you had said to get him to accept it. It was not, actually, on sale.

           He had been drawing the doorway next to your turned off TV. Door open, showing one corner of your bed and the bedroom’s wall paper. Using dark shadows on paper. Where the only outline in the door was that of the bed, everything outside the doorway was lighter, like he hadn’t focused on them as much.

           His art had started to take off around the same time you started with your “social club”. Less time spent together, more time with the drawing pads. Longer you were out the better the things you brought back. New TV, bed spread from a specialty store instead of the local Walmart, and more drawing pads.

           The one he used was closed gently. Placed on the coffee table without any noise.

           He was a very weird sleeper. Slept like the dead but a certain sound, high pitched or too loud, would send him bolted upwards. Things like walking on soft feet, or a fan running wouldn’t wake him up. Picking up his leg and placing it next to the other, next coming the couch blanket over his body.

           It’s best that he didn’t know about your little “club”. He loved you madly, enough to not ask questions, but also enough to worry. It’s best he didn’t know, it’s best that he just sleeps.

         Tony Stark:

           It’s easy to forget the danger that comes with your life. A lavish penthouse, drivers and constant respect from absolute strangers had a way of spoiling a person. That a gun had to be constantly strapped to your hip did little to change that.

           It’s not until his hands grips yours that you are reminded of that. A whisper into his ear, a slamming phone call or just glancing at a text and his hand is somewhere on your body. Shoulder, knee, ankle, and hands were always open for his hand to hold. Your entire life becoming a human stress ball for your husband.

           You only ever asked what was wrong when he comes in upset, then it’s up in the air towards the cause. His answer will always be sarcastic;

           “Having a bad day?” You would ask as he walked past.

           “No, it’s going great. Black mail is in now a-days, right?” That was the farthest he would explain it. Reaching for the closest part of you to him and groaning into the hand covering his face.

         Thor:

           You don’t know where he went, you don’t know what he was doing and, you didn’t want to know. What you do know is that he comes home late, that he is paid well, and that he loves you, no matter what.

           “Shoes…” You remind him.

           Thunk Thunk

           You had only been asleep a few minutes ago. Still half-awake, blinking slow while approaching Thor. In the walkway past your main entrance he mostly strips on the welcome mat. Shirt, pants, tie and, of course, shoes are bundle together and put into your arms. One long blink as he leans down and kisses your cheek.

           “Thank you,” He says, walking towards the shower before you yell at him about that too.

           Your hand grabs around the handle of the hammer left by the door. The one thing he kept forgetting, leaving that thing head down on the tiles, smear of red left behind you’d have to clean later.

           Clothes are tossed into the tub in passing. Trusty large bucket pulled from under the sink, dish soap taken out, bleach put in. A dangerous combination if they were to ever mix, but it was best to keep them together. “It’s just cleaning supplies, officer.” You would say when they’d finally appear with a warrant.

           On your knees in front of the tub it fills with freezing water. Dish soap poured in and you begin scrubbing. Be it from wanting to finish quickly or that your muscles weren’t alive yet, your pajama shirt would be soaked by the end of the cleaning session.

           Water is a candy-apple red by the time the stains are gone from the shirt. The pants were easier, given the black color. The shirt was the faintest pink from the water, that would be removed after a regular run through the washing machine. Where they both go after wringing them out and tossing them in.

           The hammer was another story, soaked in bleached, scrubbed with a tooth brush. Left in the sink to naturally dry and then to be placed back into the tool belt in the garage. When somebody asks why only your finger prints are on it, “because it’s mine, why else?”

           An alarm would sound in the wee hours of the morning for you to put it back before living hours. For now, though, you strip as Thor had. Tossing your wet clothes in with the others and starting it up. Thor had many white shirts and black pants, why were these so special?

           He’s just coming out of the shower a few seconds after you return to bed. Hair damp, muscles relaxed, a thick hand lays on your side under the covers. A kiss, just as sweet as the first, is placed on your temple. He smells like rain and copper.

           Not that you would know anything about that.

         Bucky Barnes:

            This young man before you is a dime a dozen. Although the “leader” of his little group, you wouldn’t be able to pick him out from the group as anything but a drone. He wasn’t exactly a skeleton like the other quivering street rats forced into your office. He was fatter, but still gangly none the less. Not that he was looking to you, looking over your shoulder the entire time.

           “So, was it an accident? Or are you just stupid?” you ask after a few seconds.

           He finally looks to you, only for a few seconds, then returning over your shoulder. “I didn’t- nothin’ was meant by it. We just- yeah, we just got drunk.”

           “So, you were confused.” You finished for him.

           He nods quickly as the boards creek under a walking weight somewhere behind you.

           “The Winter soldier” or “the white wolf” had a bigger reputation then you did. To very few he was Bucky. A man with a bloody past and one hell of a resume. This brought him into your payroll and eventually into your arms.

           “Yeah, we, uh, I’m sorry. We were drunk and, we’re so sorry.” At least now he was looking in your direction, with Bucky standing behind your chair.

           “You were drunk, so drunk that you picked a fight. Went into an alley and beat a twenty-two-year-old until his jaw broke.” Picking up a file and slapping it down for effect. It was actually filled with receipts from take out for tax reasons, but he didn’t need to know that. “So drunk that you left him there and weren’t even smart enough to try and get out of my territory.”

           The truth was Mikey, one of your boys with too big a mouth, had started the fight. But you’d have to deal with him later.

           He incredibly quiet at this point. Unsure where he’s supposed to stare, looking between you and Bucky just behind your chair.

           “I’m so sorry,” He tries again.

           “He has bills, a lot of bills now and I’m not putting that on his family.” You spat, opening your receipt file. “I’m putting that on you.” The file is slammed down again, hoping not to lose any of the receipts and get yelled at by your accountant.

           He’s staring right at you now.

           “Get your shit together, get the money together and everything is going to get a lot easier.” He’s nodding fast before you even finished your statement. “Bill will be in the mail, get out.”

           He practically runs from the room. Sam smirking as he followed him out, making sure the rat actually left your building.

           Your wolf’s hands go to your shoulders. Squeezing them softly, a soft kiss to the top of your head when there is no one there.

         Natasha Romanoff:

           That bitch, that absolute bitch.

           “I’m so sorry,” Were the words your ‘work friend’ had said in the office. Stepping into your space with false kindness, before dropping the bomb without a second thought.

           He had supposedly seen Nat at this high-end bar he moonlights at. You had every reason to ignore his accusation; he had only met her once, in the winter when you both wore heavy coats and hats, in a passing “hey,” before moving on. A far reach from the supposed get up Nat was wearing that night. The words “she was a little whore-ish looking” were used, the glare you gave sent him running back to his cubical.

           He was right though, that weekend there she was. Sitting on one of those too expensive stools, leaning against the bar with one arm. The other putting her hand on the knee of the man in front of her, she was looking at him with a Gatsby worthy look. The same she would give you, seeing it given to someone else, though. It was probably easier to be shot.

           In another lifetime you might have stormed in and started a scene. Instead the wound was too much. Sending you limping home to ignore her calls and text. You’d still be too hurt to read the paper some days later. Completely missing the man’s obituary.  

         Bruce Banner:

           They always go for the supposedly weakest member of the family. A few days the same car had been following you, more specifically he, Bruce didn’t notice. Even with your head looking back to it every few steps when you walked.

           You were preceptive, not sneaky.

           It wouldn’t be long before they’d try and contact him. That would come maybe a week after, when which ever branch of law enforcement on your ass figured out his schedule. He was on the street earlier then usual that day. Leaning forward into a car window that you unfortunately recognized. This slowed your walking to a complete stop; an exception were the one and two taking you between buildings. A horrible hiding spot if anyone were to actually be looking at you.

           He steps away from the car with half a smile. It’s the kind he does to replace frustration, laughing at something said by the people in the car. It pulls out from curb as you start half-walking, half-trotting towards your man. Your line of questions completely ignored as his hand takes yours.

           “Stark gonna help us with that vacation?” You asked over lunch.

           The “opportunity” those agents had offered Bruce were laced with reminders of his past. That of the anger which went out of control, the record he had to be upfront about at the beginning of your relationship and all that could easily go away.

           “He’s more then willing to, where he wants us to go may be… too much.” Bruce says, hidden behind a menu. Tony’s idea of laying low was a penthouse outside of the united state jurisdiction. “Rogers owes you a favor, though, right? Maybe he has an idea?”

           “That’d be too close to home, we need a more…exotic place to relax.” He offered. “Shuri loves me, her family has a place.”

           “That works, should I bring a bathing suit?” You had asked.

           You would both be gone from the radar within a week.

           T’Challa:

           The floor is so much more comfortable then the couch for reading. Back to the cushions and legs spread out, you don’t bother looking up when he enters the house.

           Call it fake or call it protection, T’challa’s personality changes depending who he is with. With outsiders he can considered cold, several are still under the impression he doesn’t even speak English. The family he was respectful, big brotherly with an unrestricted face. His inner circle and the jokes come out, more teasing to their boss and relaxed shoulders. With you, everything is gone.

           The entire world a weight he drops at the doorway. Calling out to you which you don’t bother responding to as he would find you no matter what.

           “How’d it go?” He sits on the couch next to you, your shoulders, naturally leaning into his legs.

           “It was very long, everyone was…yelling.” He’s tired, legs stretching out under the coffee table. Chest sliding farther down the couch with a groan. “It was done, though. Of course.”      

           A few seconds of silence as you finish the page your on, placing book mark and closing the binding. He doesn’t move from his spot on the couch, even when you placed the book on the coffee table and stood up. Staying in his relaxed position, only making a small noise when your warmth leaves his legs.

           He jerks slightly when you walk around the couch. Arm moving from his face to see you looking down at him. Your hands on either side of his head, scratching through his hair line, massaging his head. Humming is added when your thumbs rub over his eyebrows, gently across his eyelids and two fingers against his temples

           Although “Black Panther” was just his mob name, he did tend to act like a cat. Eyes closing softly, a groan in the deep of his throat, head moving to chase your hands when they move too far from their duty. If he were any more feline like he’d be purring.

           Pietro Maximoff:

           A club is a stupid place for a business meeting. It’s too loud, even in the private booths, and the over priced drinks just made the guy out as being a snob. Sent as Stark’s representative you had to play the game on the guy’s terms.

            It was why you were currently scanning over the banister. Looking for that little color flashing in the strobe lights.

           And there it is, silver tie hung loosely around his neck. Leaning against the bar, your cute lookout taking his break from scoping out the club. He catches your eye after looking upwards, a little head tilted upwards. Not a trap, we’re good.

           You give a head down, come up, need help.

           He’s smiling before disappearing into the crowd of moving bodies. You turn to the “clients” you were meeting. Stark had talked about expanding for awhile now. More into the school district (that many of the families own kids attended the school was just a coincidence) hence the yahoos you were forced to talk to.

           Two sons from old money sitting in the lounge chairs. A woman draping over the back of the elders brother, she not paying attention, around his neck, standing behind the chair like his cape.

           “Do you like the place?” Younger brother asks as you sit down.

           “It’s very bright. Nice and young, just as Boss had described the two of you.” Stark had actually used to words ‘freshly dropped from community college’ but yours were better. “A little young running this place, young to be as powerful as you both are.”

           They preened like birds at the compliment.

           “It wasn’t easy,” Oldest jokes and you all have a good life.

           Pietro was a quick little jack rabbit. The fastest runner in the family, which was how there was suddenly a glass in your face. Weight on one arm of your chair as he leans against you, putting the arm around your shoulders after you take the glass. Your arm around his waist. A new pretty thing to show off you were just as good as they were.

           The youngest twerks an eyebrow while the eldest squints.

           “Pretty young yourself to be here, why?” He asks.

           Tips of your fingers gently touch the small gap of skin between Pietro’s shirt and pants. “Boss wants some of your area, he’s more than willing-.”

           “He wants a piece of our shit?”

           “Just a piece, a small piece.” You say. “Are you even using it? Don’t you want money? Don’t you want a cut without doing any work?”

           Both brothers take a long drink from their glasses. Pietro takes the chance to take the glass from your hand. The arm candy with the tendency to steal, scandalous.

           “Why didn’t Stark come himself?” Oldest asks.

           “He’s so old, you really think he would like this place? It’d be the same as bringing your grandpa to the club.” You explain.

           “Jude,” Youngest says, gesturing for his brother to come.

           “We’ll be back.” Oldest says, following his brother to the off-side office. His cape following close behind, being sure to keep hold of his arm.

           Pietro gives your glass back after their gone. “So, I am just here for my looks?” He asks.

           “You love it,” You state, knocking your head back for the last of the drink.

         Peter Parker:

           For the two years you’ve known Peter you had no idea his statues. That the “prince of the family” was the same guy holding your hand and walking you home after school. That the black car following you down the street was nothing to be concerned about. Or the dark reason bullies had suddenly stopped bothering him.

           Like at most schools bullies were a problem that was “complicated” to deal with. Peter, unfortunately, was on the receiving end of quite of a bit of it. The same could be said about you, girls are more brutal then many are willing to admit. Both of you had your reasons not to tell anyone, the office was aware but what could they do? Excuses came from the secretaries about how horrible it was for the bullies and the sympathy you needed to feel for them.

           Thus, the side by side walking you did together. Hands going from swinging by your sides to interlocking fingers.

           Although you neve told your parents about the problems, Peter had the truth forced from him after coming home with a black eye.

           Peter was a bad liar, but great at keeping secrets. Had you never asked about the car suddenly dropping him off and picking him up everyday you wouldn’t have noticed the bullies. Noticed the red and blue casts around their arms, that they were completely avoiding Peter’s eye contact and even turned around at the sight of you.

           “My dads are really protective.” He said one day at lunch, that was the truth. “I don’t know what happened, though.” That was a lie.    

         Stephen Strange:

           Following basic directions were easier then most complained about.

           “More pressure, a lot of pressure.” He’d say.

           “Hold this back for me.” He’d say.

           “Sweetie, go wash up.” He’d order before you’d enter the room.

           In the end you were little more then a glorified nurse. One without any medical training but plenty of experience holding people down and handing over medical tools. The toughest made man would grab the hell out of your hand during stitches.

           Thor does this now, his face cringing into distortion. Holding your hand and focusing on you instead of the stitches being put into his leg. “Is it out yet?” he asks, with a groan.

           “You don’t remove a bullet,” Stephen says form the other end of the table. “Just patch it up,”

           Thor lets out a little “ah!” when the surgical needle goes through a thicker piece of his skin. Your hand pressing against his forehead to keep him from sitting up and seeing all the blood and a foreign object going through his skin several times. Doesn’t matter how tough he was, how much blood he sees on the regular, when it’s your own; there’s something different.

           “Stop whining.” Stephen says, wiping the disinfectant from the wound.

           After that it’s a few seconds of wrapping bandages around his calf. Pant leg pulled over and Stephen scoots over to look over his patient. Pulling the small pill bottle of golden “magic” he definitely did not create himself.

           “Wait till you get home, take a quarter, a quarter, of a spoon when you get home. If you do, don’t touch the butterflies, just don’t touch anything.” He warns, holding it out to him.

           “And there’s no refill, either.” You add. Stephen pointing to you for emphasis.

           “Thank you, Dr. Strange,” Thor says as though he hadn’t gotten the lecture a hundred times by now. He sits up on the table, smiling at you. “And nurse.”

           Neither of you had the legal license anymore. Not that it was needed to patch up bullets.

         Matt Murdock:

         “You been through the sports lately?” Officer something-face says on the other side of the table. He’s slouched in his chair, paper held in front of him as though hiding from the other side of the room. “I don’t read it myself all that much. Watch too much of it, I already know what they’re gonna say. It’s all gonna be wrong.”

           This was the tactic they were going with: good guy, nice cop, spends the first bit talking to you. Rope into a conversation, get you comfortable and get you to spill. When that didn’t work after awhile another cop would come in storming. Yelling at nice cop for being so nice and going on a rant hoping you’d interject. After that, a ping pong game of questions from both cops until you snap and say something.

           Now, the only thing you could do, was mentally prepare for it. Sitting there like a pouting toddler, arms crossed, refusing to look at him.

           “Where’s my lawyer?” You said the magic words an hour into your interrogation.

           “You know we’re not gonna be able to talk they arrive?” Nice cop says.

           “Stop talking,” the door slams open and your angel walks in. Hand out, sticking to the wall so he doesn’t run into the table during his march through the room. “Is my client under arrest, Officer? Has she been

           “And they arrive,” Nice cop says gathering his paper. “Mr. Murdock, where there’s blood you’re sure to follow, starting to think you might be a shark.”

           “Only if the blood is my client’s. Is she under arrest?” He asks, hand leaving the wall. Going instead to your shoulder, both as comfort and to acknowledge where you were.

           “There was a murder, with her MO.” Nice cop says.

           “I’m sorry, I was unaware she was convicted of murder.” Sarcasm, he was at the previous trials and arrests. Nothing was ever held against you.

           “You know all your clients are, Murdock.” Nice cop says, starting to become not-as nice cop. “This time, she wasn’t so careful.”

           “I wasn’t even there!” You almost yelled, toddler now throwing an almost tantrum in standing quickly.

           Matt’s fingers curl into your shoulder, practically slamming you back into the chair. Leaning into your space and whispering a soft, “Shut the fuck up.” Before standing straight.

           “Is she under arrest?” Matt asks again.

           “Not yet,” Not-as cop admits.

           “Then we’ll be seeing you.” His arm is around your forearm. Pulling you up from the chair.

           Matt, the man at the top of your don’s payroll, was smart enough to wait until you’re both outside to ask; “What did you do?”

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

Carol Danvers:

          Her hand is a constant reminder at any small bit of exposed skin. Sliding their way to what little space was between your shirt and pants. Gently past your hair to the back of your neck for a conversation. And now, even at a formal event, her too hot fingers rest on your forearm. Standing next to you but having yet to involve herself in the conversation.

           Her never leaving presence was supposed to be a threat. “Stay in your lane, do your job, pretty girl. Nothing will happen to you, Carol won’t let anything happen to you.” The big boss had said as the strong blonde stood close to you.

           It’s hard to see Carol as a threat when all she’s done is protect you. More then once her hand grabbed the wrist of someone ghosting over your backside. Getting close enough her fire breath whispered in your ear to not go with somebody or to get ready to duck, even just saying “take off your heels” and you keep the smile but lose the shoes.

           The smart part of you knows she a threat, but the reasonable part believes she may also be more.

[bountyofbeads]

I Felt Safe in America. Until El Paso. https://www.nytimes.com/2019/08/10/opinion/sunday/el-paso-shooting-immigrants.html

Below are two editorial pieces written by Hispanic AMERICANS and their thoughts on America after the El Paso shooting. We CANNOT LET HATE WIN. WE MUST STAND WITH OUR BROTHERS AND SISTERS.

I Felt Safe in America. Until El Paso.

It is because of people like me and my daughter that a gunman did what he did.

By Fernanda Santos, Ms. Santos, a former national correspondent for The Times, teaches journalism at Arizona State University. | Published Aug. 10, 2019 | New York Times | Posted August 10, 2019 |

PHOENIX — A good friend who is moving to Chicago had a going-away party at a downtown brewery recently and I stopped by to say goodbye. He is an artist from Iraq who escaped to the United States in 2013 to save his life. In Iraq, Mahdi Army loyalists had chased, beaten and threatened him because he had dared to sketch nude pictures — practice for his entrance exam at Baghdad University’s College of Fine Arts. Here, he is free.

I wasn’t running from anyone when I settled in the United States 21 years ago, but I understand the idea of being free in America: For me, it has meant being free from the senseless violence of everyday life in Rio de Janeiro, from where I came. Since moving to the United States, I’ve married a white man, given birth to our daughter and moved to Arizona, where I’ve written about immigrants and the border and gotten to know both well.

I blend in seamlessly in Arizona, where about one in three residents is Latino. As a naturalized citizen, I felt safe here even when a campaign against illegal immigrants led by the infamous former sheriff, Joe Arpaio, targeted Latinos. One day after Donald Trump’s election, a man approached me while I spoke Spanish on the phone outside a coffee shop and screamed, “Speak English.” The experience rattled me, but still I felt safe. I did, however, start carrying my passport card in my wallet, just in case.

That sense of safety changed when a young white man opened fire in a Walmart in El Paso last Saturday, making targets out of brown-skinned people. I read the suspect’s manifesto  Sunday morning and, for the first time, I did not feel just like an immigrant. I felt like a target. I looked at my 10-year-old daughter eating the chocolate-chip pancakes I’d made and realized that she could be a target too. Citizenship, it turns out, is an illusory shield. In the eyes of that gunman, I am not American but an invader, an instigator. It is because of people like me that he did what he did.

Segregation was codified in this country in the days after Emancipation, when Southern states enacted laws that clamped down on African-Americans’ newly found freedom to vote, own property or attend public schools. But Jim Crow extended beyond the South: It took the Supreme Court to force Arizona to stop requiring voters to take English literacy tests, and that was years after the Voting Rights Act had already banned such tests.

But if legal segregation has largely fallen before court rulings, anti-minority and anti-immigrant attitudes have not. Last month, at a Republican event in Phoenix, State Senator Sylvia Allen, who is white, said, “We’re going to look like South American countries very quickly.” Ms. Allen, who later apologized, blamed it on the fact that white women are not reproducing fast enough and on the immigrants who are “flooding us and flooding us and flooding us and overwhelming us so we don’t have time to teach them the principles of our country.”

Last week, a fund-raising email by the Arizona Republican Party called the arrival of Central Americans at the border to assert their legal right for asylum “an invasion,” echoing language commonly employed by President Trump.

This is the language of white supremacy today: that we must stop immigration because Latinos will distort American culture and replace “real Americans.” But by “American culture” they really mean white culture, a definition that, to them, doesn’t apply to people like me. Or to black people, Muslims, Asian-Americans and many others, including mixed-race Americans like my daughter.

In his manifesto, the El Paso suspect employs this narrow definition to justify the unjustifiable. He says much more in that screed, most of it vile. Some, though, reminded me, in a good way, of the young undocumented immigrants I’ve met in Arizona. “Inaction is not a choice,” he wrote, reminding me that before elections, many young immigrants, including so-called Dreamers, knock on doors and share their stories, hoping to persuade their neighbors to do what they cannot, which is to vote. For those Dreamers, inaction is indeed not a choice.

There are Walmart stores all along the southern border. If you visit one of them on a weekend, you’ll see a parking lot full of cars with Mexican license plates. In Douglas, Ariz., a city whose mayor was born in the Dominican Republic, Mexicans who cross into the United States on foot to buy discounted clothing and housewares leave their Walmart shopping carts at the border crossing.

While I was at a Walmart in Phoenix shopping for school supplies the other day, I could see the kinds of people who make up this state. There were mothers speaking Spanish to children who spoke to one another in English, Muslim refugees from Africa in brightly colored hijabs, black families and white families too.

When school starts later this month in Ciudad Juárez, Mexico, one school will be missing its principal, Elsa Mendoza Marquez. She was among the 22 people killed in the El Paso Walmart, just across the Rio Grande from Juarez. A dual Mexican-American citizen, she too was shopping and was gunned down while her husband waited for her outside, in the parking lot.

What the El Paso gunman failed to realize is that the immigrants he so hates are, like him, struggling to make sense of a changing country and claim their rightful place in it. He chose a rifle to claim his place. My Iraqi friend, who is off to pursue a master’s degree in art in Chicago, chose a brush.

The Dreamers I’ve met have chosen the power of civic engagement to fight their fight. And that, to me, makes them better citizens than plenty of the people who call themselves “real Americans” these days.

El Paso Was a Massacre Foretold

Those who are set on killing minorities are aided by the fact that they can easily obtain assault weapons in this country.

By Jorge Ramos, Mr. Ramos is a contributing Opinion writer. | Published Aug. 10, 2019 | New York Times | Posted August 10, 2019 |

Leer en español

EL PASO ­— “I don’t know why he took my boy’s life,” Dora Lizarde said. Her grandson Javier, 15, was the youngest victim of last weekend’s massacre, killed by a bullet to the head. “Fifteen years old; he still had so much time to live,” Ms. Lizarde told me in an interview this week. “I don’t know why he took him away, I don’t understand. He is young, too.”

Patrick Crusius is young, too.

Police have charged Mr. Crusius, 21, in the mass shooting that killed 22 people at a crowded Walmart here on Aug. 3. Nineteen of the victims had Spanish surnames, making this the worst attack on Latinos in modern American history. The Mexican government has labeled the killings a terrorist act, given that eight Mexican citizens were among the dead. And, yes, it is a hate crime.

The massacre of Latinos in El Paso is the latest and most brutal reaction by a young, white American against a future that might be dominated by minorities. The fact that this attack happened is unsurprising: What else can we expect when racism and hatred of others is promoted from the top down in a country where there are more guns than people?

Authorities have said that Mr. Crusius posted a 2,300-word manifesto online minutes before the attack. In it, he said the attack was in response to a “Hispanic invasion of Texas.” “It makes no sense to keep letting millions of illegal or legal immigrants flood into the United States,” Mr. Crusius supposedly wrote, “and to keep the tens of millions that are already here.” Those words startled me — not only because they were so hateful, but because they could seamlessly fit into speeches given by President Trump, by some members of his cabinet and by many right-wing politicians.

While Mr. Trump insists that he does not have “a racist bone” in his body, his history of making racist remarks says otherwise. After years of suggesting that President Barack Obama had not been born in the United States, Mr. Trump launched his presidential campaign in 2015 by likening Mexican immigrants to criminals and rapists. He recently said that four congresswomen of color should “go back” to the countries from which they came. The list goes on. When the most powerful man in the world uses such toxic rhetoric, we should not be surprised when others mimic him.

Beto O’Rourke, the former congressman from El Paso and a Democratic presidential candidate, recently told me that he is convinced Mr. Trump influenced the attack. Mr. O’Rourke — who along with Senator Elizabeth Warren, another Democratic candidate for the presidency, has said in recent days that Mr. Trump is a “white supremacist” — responded to a tweet from the president by writing: “22 people in my hometown are dead after an act of terror inspired by your racism.” Other leaders and politicians, including Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, have also lost their patience with Mr. Trump. “I don’t want to hear the question ‘Is this president racist?’ anymore. He is,” Ms. Ocasio-Cortez said recently.

The president’s xenophobia, and that of many of his supporters and enablers, is rooted in a dread that the day is soon coming when they will be a minority in their country. While non-Hispanic whites remain a majority of the population in the United States, in less than 30 years that may no longer be the case, according to projections. This sort of demographic revolution is putting Americans’ tolerance to the test. Most of us welcome an increasingly diverse country, but many, like Mr. Trump, resist the country’s multiethnic, multicultural future. Some react by walking into a store and murdering innocent people.

The most racist Americans who are set on killing minorities are aided by the fact that they can easily obtain assault weapons in this country. I’ve lost count of all the massacres I’ve covered as a journalist. After each shooting — Columbine, Sandy Hook, Las Vegas, Parkland — I thought we might have reached the limit of Americans’ tolerance for such horror. But it wasn’t so. I fear that the killings in El Paso won’t change anything, and that I soon will be back on another flight headed to cover the next massacre. And then another. And another after that.

I have lost hope that the United States will ever pass laws that limit access to firearms. Like many parents around the country, I’ve had difficult conversations with my children in case they find themselves in a situation where someone is shooting at them. “Try to escape, hide or fight,” I tell them. “But don’t stay still. Gunmen have a lot of bullets, but not patience.”

Still, even if we could somehow solve our gun problem in America, our racism problem would be far more difficult to eradicate. Hate-group activity is on the rise, according to the Southern Poverty Law Center. And anti-immigrant rhetoric has already appeared in slogans shouted during the 2020 presidential campaign.

I crossed the border from El Paso to Ciudad Juárez, Mexico, one morning this week. For many years, Juárez was considered one of the most dangerous cities in Mexico because of the presence of drug cartels. Yet on this visit some people I spoke with told me that they didn’t dare cross into El Paso with their families. When I asked why, some said that they feared being hunted for being Mexican, and all said that racism was a factor.

Nobody should live in fear because they are Mexican nationals in the United States or members of the Latino community. But that’s where we are now in this United States of Trump. The abundance of weapons of war on the streets and Mr. Trump’s unending racist rhetoric are indisputably connected to the massacre in El Paso. What happened in this city was a massacre foretold. Words matter. When they are filled with hate, they cause great damage.

Mr. Ramos is an anchor for the Univision network and the author of “Stranger: The Challenge of a Latino Immigrant in the Trump Era.”

[effyeahzimbits]

Swawesome Santa 2018 Submission

Title: Five Times Bitty and Jack Allowed Fate to Get the Better of Them…and the One Time They Took Matters into Their Own Hands Rating: T+ Pairings: Jack/Bitty, mentions of Shitty/Lardo, mentions of Holster/Ransom. Very, very brief Jack/OC and Bitty/OC. Warnings: Alcohol use, brief mentions of Jack’s overdose. Summary: Bitty always felt like he was missing a train he was meant to have taken. Jack always let the universe decide which direction he should go in. It took them three New Year's Eves before they got it right.A 5+1 things AU fic created for the Swawesome Santa, gifted to @loveyoutoobits! I hope you like it.

 Five Times Bitty and Jack Allowed Fate to Get the Better of Them…and the One Time They Took Matters into Their Own Hands   

31st December 2017    Bitty’s first New Year’s Eve in Boston was spent in a bar. He wasn’t a stranger to bars, especially the loud, gaudy one he was in right now. But he had previously rung in the new years with his parents at family parties back in Madison, Georgia, and had been desperate for a change of scenery. When his best friends had suggested a night out on the town, he had jumped at the chance. He never turned down an opportunity to dance and spend the night with his friends.     That was also the night he first met Jack Zimmermann.    

     Now, Bitty didn’t know a great deal about hockey culture. He knew the game and enjoyed it just as much as his friends did, but he never took that much interest in teams’ rosters and star players. But Jack Zimmermann, the Providence Falconers’ current captain, he knew. If only because he scored a hat trick in their last game against the Bruins and Holster was furious for a week. Bitty had been impressed enough to Google him, and had been impressed further by the man’s understated smile and bright blue eyes. Still, he was just another hockey player.     Just another hockey player who turned out to be the best friend of Lardo’s new boyfriend.     Bitty could see right away he wasn’t the partying type. While Bitty and his friends downed shots and sang at the top of their lungs and danced without a care in the world, Jack simply sat at a booth nursing a single beer and watching them have a good time. When questioned he just said he was perfectly happy as he was, and Shitty (Lardo’s boyfriend) would confirm it. Bitty mostly forgot all about him and continued partying. That was, until he felt Jack’s eyes on him.     No one knew how he did it. Hell, even Bitty himself didn’t know how he did it. But one moment he was playfully beckoning Zimmermann from the dance floor, and the next Jack was joining him. He looked just as surprised to find himself there as anyone else, but Bitty wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity. With Shitty, Ransom and Holster all hollering excitedly behind them, Bitty tugged Jack towards him.     It turned out that Jack Zimmermann wasn’t a bad dancer. He was a little shy and awkward at first, swaying stiffly beside him. Bitty would later blame it on the alcohol, but at the time he just simply didn’t think and grabbed Jack’s hand and pulled. Jack’s professional athlete build wasn’t fazed by the gesture, but something in him was, and it was enough to encourage him to move. A couple of songs in, and Jack was matching Bitty’s peppy rhythm.     Bitty couldn’t put his finger on it, especially with his brain fogged with a haze of Jägermeister and Red Bull, but there was something between them that neither of them expected. It was almost an electricity, thrumming with an energy that made the hair on Bitty’s forearms stand on end. It started at their joined hands and vibrated through them until it resonated in their chests. He’d barely said more than two sentences to Jack Zimmermann all night, but suddenly Bitty wanted to kiss him.     He could tell the exact moment Jack became aware of the connection. The easy smile on his face quickly dropped and was replaced with an uneasy confusion. There was a muttered excuse – Bitty couldn’t hear it over the pounding music – and then Jack turned and hurried out of the bar, fighting his way through the crowd. Bitty watched him go, then shrugged carelessly and turned around to dance with his friends again.    It wasn’t until he woke up the next morning, slightly hungover but content, did he wonder if the universe had tried to give him something and he let it pass him by.   5th May 2018     Bitty had explicitly said no parties. Every birthday for the last four years his friends had threw a raging kegster to celebrate. For his first birthday out of college, all Bitty wanted was to call his parents, bake some nice food and share it with his friends over a glass of good wine and the Great British Bake-Off reruns (the better ones, before Mary, Mel and Sue had quit the show obviously). Ransom, Holster and Shitty had taken a little more persuading, but had soon agreed after Bitty had promised his signature peach cobbler and black forest brownies.     His phone call to his parents lasted nearly an hour. His relationship with them had been a little strained since coming out, but it was slowly getting better, and he hung up with a big smile on his face. Lardo had still been in bed at ten that morning, so he went to the store to fetch baking ingredients on his own. It was cliché, but it was a perfect spring day, like it was the movie of his life.     Working as a junior social media and marketing assistant had its perks, like weekends off. Today was a Saturday, so he wandered down to the fresh foods market for his ingredients. The peaches weren’t quite as sweet as the ones back home, but the ones here were a close second. He left an hour later with his tote bag full to the brim with ripened fruit and fresh spices and fingers sticky with pear juice. He stopped by his favourite deli next, the one with the premium butter and organic flour. His budget never usually stretched past Walmart, but he had birthday money burning a hole in his pocket.     It was late afternoon by the time he got home. The kitchen smelled strongly of ground coffee, and he found Lardo perching on a chair and trying to hang purple streamers from the lampshade. She had put on her favourite sweatshirt for the occasion, the one with a rubber duck wearing sunglasses, and that alone made Bitty’s chest swell with happiness. They finished putting up the streamers between them and had lunch, squabbling over whose turn it was to use the one decent plate they had. It was Lardo’s, who overruled Bitty’s birthday argument with a smirk and a flick to his forehead.     An hour later he was elbow deep in pastry when the buzzer rang. It was Ransom and Holster, bearing wine and beer and takeout menus, though they all knew they’d be too full of pie to eat the Chinese food they’d still order. The wine was shared out and they were put to work, greasing tins and chopping fruit. Shitty appeared not long after, and gave Bitty a slurpy, whiskery kiss on his cheek before handing over more wine. He wore a suspicious grin for a whole hour and sang loudly and out of tune to the radio as he peeled peaches.     When the buzzer went a third time, everyone looked around at each other in confusion, except Shitty, who just grinned even wider. Bitty rolled his eyes and wiped his hands on a towel, wondering who on earth Shitty had invited. Maybe a stripper. He didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved when he found a shy looking Jack Zimmermann in the hallway. He was pleasantly surprised though, especially when Jack sheepishly held out a small bunch of flowers and wished him happy birthday.     He’d met Jack a handful of times since New Year’s Eve. He’d learned that Jack wasn’t quite as stoic and robotic in real life as his television interviews would have you believe. He was quiet and reserved, but also thoughtful and could hold his own in an intelligent discussion. His accent was just as endearing though, and Bitty found his awkward shyness adorable. Bitty never denied the attraction to himself, but it was never one he would act on either.     Parties and clubs might not have been his thing, but it turned out that quiet gatherings with people he knew were more to Jack’s taste. He threw himself into the baking, listening to Bitty’s instructions with keen ears and following them with enthusiasm. After a glass of wine Bitty would even call him charming, quick to tease or crack a joke. If Bitty didn’t know any better, he’d say Jack was flirting with him when he flicked flour in his face or purposely nudged his pie out of the way when he tried to take a bite. But Bitty did know better. Guys like Jack were never Not Straight. And even if they were, Bitty was never their type.     It was probably the best birthday he’d ever had, anyway. By the end of the night, his and Lardo’s apartment was a complete mess. The streamers had fallen, there were plates and takeout cartons all over the living room and the kitchen was filled with dirty pans and covered in a fine layer of flour dust. They’d eaten and drank until they were fit to burst, argued over which Bake-Off contestant would win in a mud fight, and Jack had offended them all by declaring he didn’t find Mary Berry all that great. Come midnight, Ransom and Holster had wandered back to their own apartment and Lardo had dragged a wasted Shitty back to her room. Bitty told Jack he didn’t need to stay and help tidy, but Jack insisted anyway.     It was only when they were both alone did Bitty feel it again. That strange electricity that drew Bitty towards Jack like a moth to the flame. He couldn’t blame the alcohol this time, not after only two glasses of wine. Jack either wasn’t aware of it, or was ignoring it, focusing hard on wiping flour from the counter tops. Bitty tried to do the same, humming along to the quiet tune playing on the radio as he filled a trashbag full of rubbish. They worked without a word, moving around almost in tandem, like they had done it a million times before.     Bitty didn’t believe in fate, or soul mates, or past lives. At least, he didn’t until their rhythm was suddenly broken and they bumped into one another. Jack had flour on his nose and a dirty cloth in his hand. Bitty had a smudge of cherry sauce on his mouth and was holding a stack of empty plates. They both laughed and then went still. It felt like they were both waiting for something as they looked at each other, taking in lashes and eyes and noses and freckles and dimples and mouths. Waiting for what though, they didn’t know.     Jack’s phone pinged. It was loud enough to break the reverie and they both pulled free from the spell. Jack could never leave a text unanswered, and for the briefest of seconds Bitty wished that he would. Ignoring a text would make him not-Jack though, so he couldn’t be too disappointed when Jack took a step back and pulled his phone from his back pocket. Bitty cleared his throat and continued his task like nothing had happened.     Jack was still staring at his phone screen a couple of minutes later. His brows were slightly furrowed, but Bitty couldn’t read the expression on his face. He questioned him gently, and Jack almost jumped, like he’d forgotten where he was. He managed an apologetic smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He didn’t explain himself or the text message, and simply announced that he had to leave. With a last ‘happy birthday’ he showed himself to the door and left.     Bitty felt like he had just missed a train that he was supposed to take.   31st December 2018     They didn’t go to a bar that year. Ransom and Holster threw a party in their apartment, though it was thankfully not as outrageous as the kegsters they used to host in college. Their work friends were accountants and administrators and fellow consultants so Bitty wasn’t expecting it to get too wild. He’d had a pleasant, sleepy Christmas with plenty of good food and catching up with family, so didn’t mind that this new year was different to the last. Lardo brought Shitty along, who naturally dragged Jack with him. Bitty was over the moon to hear this, hoping that maybe fate would give them both a helping hand this year.     However, it appeared that fate had other plans in store. Jack appeared at the party as promised, but Bitty hadn’t expected to see a young, smiley blonde man attached to his hip. Jack introduced him as his boyfriend, and Bitty felt like the floor had abruptly disappeared from beneath him. It was a lot to process all at once. He’d started to have suspicions that Jack was Not Straight as Bitty had originally thought, and to have that confirmed was a little overwhelming. Then to learn that he was also suddenly spoken for left Bitty with a bitter taste in his mouth.     He and Jack had grown close over the last few months, and he thought that they shared everything over a glass of wine and a slice of pie. It turned out that was wrong though, and Bitty wasn’t sure what he felt more betrayed about. Still, he plastered on a smile and congratulated them as if it wasn’t a knife through his heart.     Jack’s partner was funny and charming and handsome and everyone liked him. Bitty wanted to hate him, but he couldn’t bring himself to. The man had asked for his macaron recipe and talked about his cat for a full twenty minutes for god’s sake. When Bitty had first walked in, he’d eyed the mistletoe hanging over each door with hopeful eyes, but now he just glared at it acrimoniously. It was an ugly way to feel, but Bitty couldn’t help but think the universe was laughing in his face.     The worst thing was, Jack looked happy. Bitty was pleased for him, but it was tainted, and he hated that it was marred that way. He spied Jack’s hand casually sitting on the man’s waist or spotted a chaste peck on the cheek between them and wanted to down another shot. He didn’t want to spend the night torturing himself, but he didn’t want to succumb to the jealousy either. He left at eleven, feigning a headache and smiling through the well wishes.     He would spend tonight pitying himself, and then starting tomorrow he would get over Jack Zimmermann.   August 3rd 2019     Getting over Jack Zimmermann was damned hard. But Greg helped. Bitty had met him at one of Shitty’s law school mixers. He was an ex-college rugby player, dragged along to the event by his friend. Tall, broad, half Greek with a mop of dark, curly hair and an accent that made Bitty’s knees weak. He hadn’t dated seriously since college, and it was hard work. Between working their full-time jobs, Greg’s beer league rugby and Bitty’s figure skating, they barely had enough time to squeeze in dates and time together, but Bitty enjoyed it all the same.     Greg wasn’t Jack. They didn’t share the same sense of humour, and Greg’s taste in music and television wasn’t to Bitty’s tastes, and Greg was bossier and more assertive than Jack ever was. But he was also kind and caring and Bitty had a nice time with him. Even if he wasn’t Jack. But that was okay, because nobody could be Jack but Jack. And Bitty had to be fine about it. He could do that. They hadn’t had time to hang out much lately, but tonight was Jack’s birthday, and Shitty was throwing a get together in his honour. Bitty hadn’t originally wanted to bring Greg along, though he wasn’t sure why. Shitty had invited him too though, and Greg seemed to be looking forward to it. Bitty couldn’t exactly tell him no.      He had no idea what to get Jack for his birthday. What do you get the man who has everything? And if he didn’t have it, he had more than enough money to buy it anyway. This year, Jack had bought Bitty an entire collection of cookbooks from his favourite baker. Bitty knew it cost more than a whole month’s worth of his wages, though to Jack it was probably nothing. How could Bitty match something like that? He knew Jack wasn’t expecting him to, but it still made him feel inadequate.     Whatever it was, it had to be something special. It was almost an apology. I’m sorry we haven’t hung out much and you’ve taken a backseat to my actual Greek god boyfriend. Bitty didn’t think he should feel too guilty though. As far as Bitty knew, Jack was still with his own boyfriend. It was never talked about in the media for obvious reasons, but still, Bitty would know if they’d broken up. No, this get together would be good for the both of them. They could exist in the same room without that stupid electric connection between them. And even if it did appear, their boyfriends would keep it at bay.     Right?     Wrong.     It wasn’t an entire collection of cookbooks, but Bitty turned up on Jack’s swanky Providence doorstep with Jack’s favourite pie and a Barnes and Noble gift card. A feeble attempt, but he’d genuinely been stumped. He knew Jack liked history books, but Bitty was frightened of getting the wrong one. He explained this to Jack in a nervous ramble as he handed them over, but Jack laughed and thanked him sincerely anyway. It was only after Bitty stepped over the threshold did Jack notice who had been standing beside him.     Bitty introduced Greg hurriedly, hoping his edgy fluster wasn’t completely obvious to either of them. Jack was polite and smiley and shook Greg’s hand, but something about it seemed fake. Bitty tried to ignore it, heading straight to the wine. His friends were already around, and he greeted them with false enthusiasm. Once he had his glass in hand and looked around the apartment he noticed Jack’s boyfriend was nowhere to be seen. The pictures of them both were gone, as were the cat hairs and various caps and hoodies they used to share.     Jack and his boyfriend had broken up.     Bitty could’ve kicked himself. He had been so wrapped up in getting over Jack he’d forgotten to be a friend in the meantime. How long had it been since they had last hung out? Or had a lengthy phone call? The only thing Bitty had managed lately was a few quick texts and picture messages every now and again, all of which Jack had promptly replied to. He felt like an idiot. He had to apologise, but he wasn’t sure that this was the right moment. Jack looked like he was enjoying himself.     A few glasses of wine later, Bitty managed to push his guilt aside for the time being. He’d always loved Jack’s kitchen, and couldn’t resist baking in his top of the range oven, no matter the occasion. He was pulling out a tray of freshly baked mini tarts when he realised he was being watched. People had popped in and out the whole time he was baking, to fill up drinks or fetch snacks, but this time the body lingered. Bitty turned to tell them they’d have to wait a bit longer for the tarts to cool, but the words disappeared off his tongue when he noticed it was Jack.     Jack stood in the doorway, a half-drunk bottle of low alcohol beer in his hand. He had a determined look in his eyes that made Bitty go still, though his heart started to hammer in his chest. He didn’t say anything, waiting for Jack to make the first move. The energy was between them again, throbbing loud and unspoken. The metal tray shook in Bitty’s hands.    Jack opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. He closed his mouth again, frowned, thought about it. Jack had never been one to say a lot, but each word was usually carefully thought out and selected. Bitty waited, expecting something insightful and meaningful. Jack opened his mouth, closed it, frowned again and thought some more.     Greg made them both jump. He was never quiet or graceful and strode in to the kitchen with a booming voice. He was half drunk, grinning at them and calling back to the others as he filled his glass, stole a mini tart and gave Bitty a swift peck on the cheek. He left almost as quickly as he appeared, but the moment was ruined. Jack gave him a stiff nod and retreated to the living room having clearly lost his nerve.     Bitty slammed the hot tray down onto the marble counter, feeling like he’d missed the train again.   31st December 2019     Tonight, Bitty was going to get drunk. He knew it was silly and immature, but these last few months had been stressful and depressing. He felt like he deserved to let loose and get messy and see off the year in style. A lot of things had happened this winter, including a promotion, Shitty and Lardo’s engagement, and his and Greg’s breakup. He hadn’t been angry or surprised, just disappointed. Greg wasn’t Jack, after all.     Jack wouldn’t be attending the party. He’d had a string of games and a long roadie over the last couple of days and wouldn’t be making it back to Providence until past eleven pm. Bitty knew that Jack would head straight to bed rather than get changed and drag himself to a loud and crowded bar after all of his travelling, and Bitty couldn’t blame him. The season had started off rough, and Jack hadn’t much time for anything in between practicing, playing, resting and all of his extra-curricular events.     Bitty knew this, but couldn’t help feeling frustrated. He’d tried to reach out, especially after his breakup, but Jack felt distant now and Bitty didn’t know how to bridge the gap. He didn’t have the energy anymore. He decided that if Jack was interested in preserving their friendship, it was his turn to make the effort. Bitty wasn’t holding his breath.     It was a fun party. It was the same LGBT+ friendly bar they went to two years ago, and Bitty felt an affinity for it. It almost felt like déjà vu, and if Bitty tried hard enough, he could almost imagine Jack sitting in his corner and nursing his beer. He wouldn’t though, he was done with torturing himself over Jack Zimmermann. He threw himself into the moment instead, filing to memory the song that was playing, the way he felt shimmying to the music, the sight of Lardo’s glittery red lipstick, the smell of Holster’s cheap cologne, the taste of Jägermeister on his tongue.     His phone buzzed at some point, but he ignored it. It buzzed a couple more times and he ignored it again, wanting to switch off from everything that wasn’t this party and this drink in his hand. Midnight was drawing closer, and he was sober enough to be aware of the heavy feeling in his chest. He watched Shitty and Lardo and Ransom and Holster dancing together and all of the other people surrounding him, and he never felt more alone. He suddenly started to wish he was anywhere but there. He wanted to be wherever Jack was.     But Jack wasn’t here. Instead there were dozens of good looking, charming boys dancing around him. A few had tried to catch his eye, and he knew he would have no problem finding someone to dance with. And if they so happened to share a kiss when the clock struck twelve, then where was the crime in that? Just a kiss, on New Year’s Eve, between two consenting adults. No big deal.     The man whose arms he fell into just happened to be tall, and dark, and blue eyed. Maybe he had a type. He didn’t look much like Jack, but if he thought hard he could just feel Jack’s hands on his hips. He looked hard at the boy’s face, trying to imagine Jack in the high cheekbones and full lips. He shook his head, wafting away the daze. That was stupid, he couldn’t keep doing this to himself.     He looked away, but he was starting to see Jack everywhere. A man by the bar had the same jacket. Another guy on the dance floor had the same awkward dance steps. A boy waiting by the toilets had a similar smile. His eyes drifted toward the door and even saw Jack standing there, a single flower in his hands and watching him. But it wasn’t real. None of these men were Jack.     Bitty turned back to the one in his arms and waited for midnight.   31st December 2019     Jack was done waiting. He was tired of letting everything else dictate his life for him. Ever since he was born he felt like the universe had already decided what was going to happen to him. The Q, the overdose, rebuilding his career from the ground up. He couldn’t choose his team. There was only one in the AHL who wanted to set him on after the scandal. He was forever grateful, but it wasn’t something he could choose. He’d worked damn hard to get where he was today. An NHL team, a captaincy and two Stanley Cups under his belt.     The last time he made a decision for himself he ended up nearly killing himself. Even now, he was worried that choosing something for himself could ruin everything. So, he waited. He let people walk in and out of his life as they saw fit. He allowed situations to happen to him, never fighting them or questioning them. It was just the universe deciding for him and he was in no position to try and take control.     Until now.     Jack stood in the doorway of the bar, watching Bitty dancing with another man. He turned the flower around in his hands. It was the same kind he’d bought for Bitty on his birthday a year and a half ago. It was a little cheesy maybe, but he had known Bitty would like it. He’d texted, letting him know he was on his way, but Bitty had never seen the messages. Bitty clearly had different things on his mind. And the old Jack would have turned away, deciding it was just what fate had decided for them, just like always.     But not this Jack.     This Jack was tired and in love. He strode forward, pushing his way past the various bodies towards the dance floor. Bitty’s eyes had drifted over him like he hadn’t realised Jack was really there. Jack couldn’t really blame him. He hadn’t been there, not recently. He’d been caught up in the start of the season, dealing with his own break up, torn between wanting to give Bitty space or comfort him after his. It had been a hard few months for both of them. Jack figured it was time to make it better.     He grabbed Bitty’s arm and pulled him around, ignoring the guy he was dancing with as he protested. Bitty opened his mouth to tell him off, but they were both momentarily stunned as they stared at each other. Bitty was shocked to see him, but Jack was stunned yet again by just how beautiful this boy was. And he was going to have him. He was going to take matters into his own hands.     He’d rehearsed a speech in the car, but the words left his brain. He suddenly couldn’t think of anything to say. He didn’t know how to explain what he was thinking or feeling and awkwardly fumbled. Bitty watched and waited with a familiar patience. Bitty never rushed him. Bitty always knew that each word needed time and thought. But still, the words wouldn’t come. Instead, Jack dumbly held out the flower and hoped that would be enough.     It was.     As the people around them started to chant a countdown, Bitty and Jack stepped forward. No more running away. No more making excuses. No more letting opportunities pass them by. Bitty jumped on the train. Jack took control. They couldn’t help but laugh, gazing at each other like they were the only two people in the world. The clock struck twelve.     “Happy New Year, Bits.”     “Happy New Year, Jack.”     They kissed. The End Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it :) thank you for the notes and the kudos and comments this year - I appreciate every single one of them. For those of you interested - Jack’s mysterious partner was intended to be Kent, but I deliberately left it ambiguous so choose your own!

This was posted for the Swawesome Santa 2018 event and gifted to Loveyoutoobits.

[the-wind-chimes]

i slept with my mom’s boyfriend when i was 15 and i wanna kill myself sometimes over it Part 1

 6-17-2019 10:20 P.M. 

WARNING THIS IS GRAPHIC!!!!!

Tonight’s one of those nights where I feel like I don’t deserve love. Because what I did was awful and I cannot forgive myself. It eats me inside out and it’s frustrating because everything I thought I knew turned dark. I struggle finding light to this day. I’ve always wanted to talk about this but I never could. I have so much fear telling this story because I’ll be slut shamed as if i don’t blame myself already. 

He came into my life around my 8th grade year and we instantly got along. Mom was so happy that we did and even encouraged him, my sister, and i to spend time together. We used to go on what we called ice-cream runs and we always went to the movies together as a family in the middle of the night. I even went as far as calling this man my step-dad. I had so much love and trust for him. I remember one time I had my first heart break and he took me out for ice-cream just us two. He gave me advice and let me vent out my feelings. he hugged me and made me feel safe like a father should. And i’m not gonna lie, i loved him like he was my father. (omg this is already making me cry) Because i don’t hate him. I don’t, and i want to so bad. But he was my dad when my biological father didn’t want anything to do with me.

Freshman year came around and I was crushing on this guy, and we’ll call him Jordan. I had the biggest crush on Jordan and he said he liked me too. It was the first time I felt like i may have loved someone. He was super sweet up until he started making sexual advances towards me. The first time he ever touched me was in front of my mom and her boyfriend during a movie. I didn’t want to make a big deal because I really liked Jordan and I didn’t want him to go anywhere. So i let him touch me. But after the movie when it was just us two i talked to him privately and told him how uncomfortable he made me. But he kept on shushing me and he pushed me down on my knees and made me suck his dick. And that was the first time I have ever done anything. I remember him telling me “Just suck it like a lollipop”. So I did, until he came. Eventually it just got more sexual and he wanted more. So I gave it to him. I don’t know if it was love, or just fear he was gonna leave me if I didn’t make him happy. If I didn’t give it to him the way he wanted I would get the silent treatment. I always felt like I was doing something wrong, cause even when I was trying my hardest he’d give me the silent treatment. I broke down one day and my friends told me he was abusive and I should leave him or i’ll just keep suffering. So I got the courage to do it one day and he didn’t even react. he just kept scrolling on his phone. That night I sobbed like I was gonna drown to death in my tears. I cried till I was dehydrated and a headache slammed the back of my head. From there I got really depressed because I couldn’t tell anyone out of fear I was gonna get in trouble for having sexual interactions at the age of 15. 

I never felt more lonelier in my entire life. Jordan however had no problem moving on. within the next day he had me replaced and rumor had it she was his everything. He treated her like the queen I wish he treated me as. He constantly was taking her out and was making out with her in front of me. I was strong for a while, i kept my head up and continued with school and tried my hardest to keep my grades up. But around Christmas break he started talking to me again and even went as far as apologizing to me. Jordan told me things I wanted to hear and even said he still cared about me and I melted into him. I loved him all over again. We were hanging out and he began making moves on me. he began kissing my neck and tears fell down my face. I was so confused. He was still with her yet he still wanted me? My naive self thought maybe some part of him still loved me? So I gave it to him, in fact I went even further. I lost my virginity right there on the kitchen floor. We didn’t say much after that. I went to my room and sat on my bed and had a another break down. So much confusion spun around in my head. And the biggest question I asked myself was why? A couple days later he was with her like nothing happened.

The week after that I lost my shit. I wanted my mother because I felt so emotional and I just wanted my mother’s love. She asked me over and over what was wrong and eventually I told her. I was grounded for a whole month and a half. No she didn’t care why, it was the fact I messed around her back that pissed her off. I remember she told me I must’ve wanted it too because I kept going back and messing around. So I left it at that. 

A month after I fell into depression. I didn’t wanna eat, I lost so much weight. I’d wake up crying and went to bed crying. But eventually I got sick of crying. I was bossed up by my friends and they were encouraging me to find a new boyfriend. But I didn’t want anyone but Jordan. So I decided I’m gonna just find a quick hook up. So from there I met someone and we’ll call him Henry. He was tall with blue eyes and blonde hair. He looked mature and like he had good experience. I made plans to meet up with him and my mom saw the messages. I sent him a nude and everything and she went berserk. She broke my Tablet in half and had her boyfriend nail my window shut. She had called me a slut and had went on and on about how I never learn my lesson. I screamed and yelled back telling her I didn’t care and you’re making a big deal out of sex for no reason. I told her it doesn’t make me a slut if i enjoy it and she was baffled. 

My step dad asked me if I wanted to go to Walmart with him that night. He thought I needed someone to talk to and so I went with him. We were walking around Walmart and I was asking him if he saw me as a slut or if he thought I was disgusting? He told me he didn’t care as long as I was safe and he was only upset because I didn’t know the dangers of sex and how to use a condom. He said he was willing to show me if I was down for it and I didn’t think anything of it. I said sure and he told me to wait in the car because It would look bad if a 28 year old man was buying a box of condoms with a 15 year old girl with him. I laughed it off and made my way to the car. He had bought a box of condoms and milk. We eventually made our way next to an abandoned Food World. A feeling of uneasiness took over my chest. I shook the feeling off though because I could trust him, right? It was pitch black I couldn’t even see in front of me. All that could be seen was in the rear view mirror a bunch of streets lights from a far. He turned the front light on in the car and opened the box of condoms. He showed me where the expiration date was. If I had to question how old a condom is, throw it out it’s no good. If I can’t feel any air pressure when pressing on the actual condom wrapper, then it’s no good. he handed it to me and made me feel the packet for air pressure. Then he pulled out his penis. I glanced and quickly averted my eyes to his face. This part is really fuzzy for me because at this point i began to panic. I wasn’t sure what to think. I couldn’t think. He slid the condom over his penis and he asked me if I wanted to feel it. Before I could reply he had grabbed my hand and put it on his penis. He was hard and got harder when my hand actually touched his penis. I eventually shut my brain down from there. I couldn’t run from this situation. We were in the middle of no where and I needed to protect myself. So my body went into auto pilot. “I can’t really show you how it works, I need to cum for that” he said. I said okay. He pulled my body onto his and from there he entered me while I was on top. He was larger than I was used to and I felt like my vagina was being shredded in two. I told him he was hurting me and he apologized. I thought it was over from there and when I tried to crawl back into my seat he grabbed my hips and entered me from behind. The pain worsened and it burned like hell. He then flipped me over onto my stomach and he grabbed my face and leaned in close. He was trying to kiss me and was complimenting my body. he told me “You’re so beautiful” and, “I can’t believe this is happening.” After a few more minutes he pulled out and came into the condom. He tied it up and threw it into the woods. 

I crawled back into my seat and slid my pants back on. He slid his back on too and asked me if I was okay. I didn’t say a word. I just stared outside the window. I was so sore, my vagina felt like it was blistered from the inside out. He told me he was sorry. Then we drove back with the radio on. I didn’t look at him not once. When we pulled into the driveway he stopped me from getting out of the car. “You know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you, right?” those words resonate in my head to this day. He told me not to make eye contact with anyone when I get into the house and just go straight into my room. And I did exactly that. I couldn’t even cry that night. I was numb and my emotions were off. 

I didn’t see Jordan at school the next day. I was sitting on the bleachers with my best friend and we’re gonna call her Beautiful. She could tell something was wrong and really kept pushing me to talk. We walked out of the gym and went to the bathroom to talk. From there I told her what happened. She flipped her shit and we both sobbed on the bathroom floor together. I was holding onto her so tight telling her I was sorry and begged her over and over not to say anything. I made her promise not to. She looked me dead in the face and told me I was raped and I refused to believe it.

I’m not really sure where else to go with this story. That same week He asked me to help him get groceries and we had a conversation in the car. He told me again “You know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you”. I asked him what would happen if mom found out? He told me I wouldn’t want to do that, it’d mess everything up for me. My mother wouldn’t love me and would send me to live with my grandparents. She wouldn’t want anything to do with me anymore. I would be a slut and a whore to my family and I would have to live with that. He asked me a couple of times if I could live with what I’ve done. I had no answer. I didn’t have an answer for anything it seemed. I told him my friend Beautiful knew what happened. He told me she had a big mouth and I shouldn’t have told anyone at all. He told me again what life would be like if anything was said and if my mother found out. From there I was cornered. I didn’t plan on telling her, but now I definitely didn’t want her to know.

I really started thinking about how disgusting I was for it all. How selfish I was. How insensitive and what a monster I was. Why didn’t I just say no? This all wouldn’t have happened if I just said no. My mother didn’t deserve this. She’s already been hurt so so so so so much in the past. I can’t believe I put her through it again. I am so fucking disgusting. I cannot believe what I just did to my mother, my sister, my family, and to myself. I’ve created wounds that are forever gonna be here. I can always try to move forward but this guilt runs deep. 

I stayed quiet all summer long. I still cared about my step-dad in a twisted fucked up way. because despite what happened I still wanted a family. I still wanted a father. I wanted my mom to be happy. I pretended like nothing happened. I pushed it so far back into my mind. We stayed a happy family. I began hanging out with him more often again and we went back to normal I guess?

there’s much more to this story but It’s super late now, 12:50. My wrist are tired from typing. I’m sorry for any typos. this took me a lot to type out. I haven’t publicly spoke about this before out of fear and that’s why I keep this account completely anonymous.  

[marvelhead17]

Miracle (Original Female Character x Cable)

Chapter 25

Summary: “How did you fix it?” he asked. “Ask Ellen the Teenage Warhead,” Wade shrugged as he stood up, “As for baby Hitler he ended up having a diaper change, funny story I was actually going to call Cable since he was so keen on killing Russel, I thought this would be like taking candy from a baby, if that means replacing it with a bullet that is,”

Warnings to cover the whole fic: Graphic depictions of violence, use of weapons, mild to strong language, mentions of rape, mentions of pregnancy and miscarriage, referenced torture and psychological abuse/manipulation, nightmares and night terrors, sexual humour, sexual content.

Word count: 1.7k

One Month Later, Early Afternoon

“So we need to get pop tarts for Wade to shut his trap, Colossus needs a new sketchpad, again, since he’s been drawing like crazy, what we are we-” Hayden paused as they were walking and stopped as she eyed someone walking passed them.

“Hades?” Nathan turned raising a brow as he realised she was no longer next to him. “Hades?”

Her head had turned as far as it could naturally so she turned on her heels and started walking in the direction that the person was going in. She weaved her way through the crowded walkway and kept her eyes focused on the man as his pace quickened, and she noted his sudden notion of ducking into the nearest alleyway between two buildings.

   As she turned the corner sharply after the man, her arms had been grabbed and she was forcibly pinned against the brick wall, her wrists being held down against her backside by cold metal while the other human hand pressed firmly against the back of her hand and made her face squash against the wall.

“Why are you following me?” he questioned aggressively, “Who sent you?”

Hayden twitched her left arm and loosened the man’s grip on her wrists which surprised him and then she grabbed his metal wrist before pinning him to the wall the same way he had done to her just moments before.

“Nobody,” she then let him go, “Don’t you recognise me?” he turned around quickly to face her, his icy eyes scanned her before he shook his head.

“No, should I?”

   Nathan rounded the corner and was relieved to find that she was not causing some kind of scene, they didn’t need the public attention after her incidents last month. He found her staring angrily at a man with dark shoulder length hair, he was roughly Hayden’s age and slightly taller than her.

  A metal arm?

  He glanced at his own arm briefly and shook his head.

   “You’re telling me you don’t remember anything?” Hayden asked him.

“What is it you want me to remember? I’ve never seen you before in my life,”

“Do you remember Hydra?”

“I- yes, they… brainwashed me and controlled me for some time, how do you know about Hydra?”

  “Hades what’s going on?” Nathan asked as he stepped closer, seeing her getting angrier with every question she asked the man.

“You’re telling me you don’t remember what you did to me?”

“What I did to you?” the man frowned, “No, I- I really don’t know who you are, I’m sorry”

“Stop lying,” she hissed and grabbed his throat, lifting him from the ground and pinning him to the wall.

“Hades- he clearly doesn’t know you,” Nathan came to her side and touched her arm cautiously, it relaxed slightly but she still stared the man down with hatred in her eyes. “Put him down and let him go,” he silently thanked whoever was looking out for him that the others weren’t around to hear him say this to her for a second time, “Please,”

  She stared at him in disbelief; Nathan gave a brief and simple nod and then brushed his hand down to her wrist, encouraging her to lower the man down to the ground. She gave in to his wishes begrudgingly and released her grip as well.

“Ya ran'she byla tvoyey myshka,” she suddenly spoke in Russian, the man only frowned at her.

“I’m sorry; I don’t know what you’re telling me.”

“I should have known,” she sighed, “Sorry, this was a waste of time,” she walked out the alleyway hurriedly.

“Hades!” Nathan called before turning to look at the man, “Well- whatever you did I’m sure karma will come to get your ass, if not then I will,” he warned before running after Hades, leaving the man confused and alone in the alleyway.

                              He finally caught up with her as she stood in front of the Walmart where they had been heading to in the first place, seemingly waiting for him as if what she had just done had never happened, and he frowned and lifted his hands in the air.

“What the hell was that all about, huh? You want to end up in jail again?” he asked angrily.

“It’s- I’ll explain later, it’s not something you talk about out in the open,” she said calmly, the opposite of what she had just been moments earlier, “I’m sorry I just couldn’t… contain myself.”

“But it involved Hydra again; those bastards really fucked you up huh?”

“Your choice of words is impeccable,” she chucked slightly as he frowned and turned his head, and then she turned to him, “Now let’s get this shit over with, I hate shopping,” she walked through the automatic doors and Nathan followed behind closely.

“Even if it’s for food?” he asked, hoping changing the subject might ease the tension that still hung in the air.

“It’s only worth it if it’s for food, otherwise hell no,”

   He smirked at that, he had caught her on occasion binge eating after days of fasting, he didn’t think it was very healthy but she insisted her body needed only a bit of fuel to last for days at a time and that it wouldn’t be harmful unless she didn’t eat for longer than a week.

One of the things he learned was that she could practically thrive for days on just eating a jar of sugar and yet she still remained healthy, admittedly still quite curvy in some areas. He shook his head, his thoughts were derailing in the middle of a department store, and he was now aware of the fact that he had been staring at her backside as she walked ahead of him.

                                                           * * *

  Late Afternoon

They returned to the mansion and gave everyone their requested goods before settling down on separate couches, nothing had been said during their travelling back and the questions that were burning through Nathan’s mind had finally annoyed him enough that they all came tumbling out at once.

  “Who was that guy? What’s with the metal arm? What does ‘mush-kah’ mean? And what did Hydra have to do with either of you?”

“That’s already too many questions, do you have to know right now?” she sighed as she connected her earphones to her phone.

“Yes, the curiosity is killing me,”

“Ugh, fine.” She threw her phone to the side and crossed her legs on the couch, “That man’s name is Bucky Barnes, the metal arm is because he lost his during a mission way before I knew him - myshka is a Russian term of endearment, which you said terribly wrong by the way, and Hydra- I’m not going to explain that right now, I’m getting flashbacks that I didn’t want to begin with already,”

  “Did I just hear you say Bucky Barnes?” Wade asked carrying a box of poptarts and plonked himself next to Hayden, chewing on an uncooked pop tart happily, “That piece of shit dickhead who raped you in Hydra?”

Her eyes widened as she stared at Wade.

“What? Oh shit, I didn’t think I said that part out loud-” he stood up quickly.

“I’m going to fucking end you!” she yelled as she rolled her sleeve up and got up from the couch after him.

  “Wait,” Nathan grabbed her wrist as she was about to make contact with Wade’s jaw. She turned to him with a mix of expressions on her face that included anger, shame and fear. “He raped you?”

She yanked her hand back from him and looked away.

“I wouldn’t have stopped you from killing him if I had known-”

“I didn’t want to kill him! I just-” she breathed out a little shakily, “I just wanted to get answers from him, and then maybe torture him if I really needed to,”

“Answers, like what?”

“Oh no,” she stretched out the last part, “I think I’ve shared enough for today, I’m going to my room,” she grabbed her phone and ran upstairs before the men could say anything more.

  “She was raped?” Nathan sat down, his mind racing, thinking back to the bar where she completely wrecked that man who tried to make a pass at her, “How long ago?” he swallowed hard, uncertain if he actually wanted to know the answer to that.

“I- maybe she is the one who should answer that,” Wade mumbled awkwardly.

“I don’t think she’s going to talk about it at least a month, I can’t wait that long,”

Wade sighed, “It was thirteen years ago, going on fourteen soon,”

“Wait, she’s twenty-eight-years-old, you’re telling me she was fifteen when that bastard-” he couldn’t bring himself to say the words, to think the words he wanted to say.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Holy fuck,” Nathan breathed out.

                                                          * * *

  Evening

Nathan watched as she sat by the kitchen counter and spooned another mouthful of Nutella into her mouth, letting the chocolate linger and melt before swallowing and spooning another load in.

 “You’re staring,” she suddenly spoke making him jump, “Wade told you, didn’t he?”

“Yeah,” he paused and he took the seat next to her, “You were so young,” his eyes softened and he focused his attention on the jar so that she would relax a little.

She glanced at him, “I know, but it was my fault,”

“How in the hell was it your fault?” Nathan asked in disbelief.

“I was in love with him,” she drew her hands over her face and sighed, “Stupidly in love with him.”

“That doesn’t mean he could ju-”

“I let him,” she said irritably, “I consented, but then it went too far, multiple times. I thought that’s what love was,” she stared down at the jar in front of her and played with the spoon.

“Because your father had told you that love is hard, and the more it hurts the stronger it is,” Nathan recalled from seeing her memories.

“Yes,” she swallowed, “So I didn’t understand that it was wrong, not at the time. Anyway, that’s enough outta me tonight thanks, see ya in the morning.” She got up from her seat and took the jar with her as she walked out the room.

“Yeah, see ya,” Nathan said quietly.

  He felt guilty for the fact that he had pressed such a sensitive topic for her, but he was glad she opened up more to him, it only made his feelings to protect her even stronger. And he swore to himself that the next time he saw that Barnes character he’d make him sorry for ever laying a finger on her. That was a promise.

________________________________________________________________

Translations in order:

“Ya ran'she byla tvoyey myshka,” - I used to be your myshka

>> Chapter 26 <<

[sierrabinondo]

my first tour.

i’m currently sitting in a ford e350 riding down I-95 back to new jersey, to hurriedly clean out the rental van we took for my band’s first tour ever and drop it off at bandago. we’ve been up since 8:30 am, not an unusual time for us, but we’re running on about 5-6 hours of sleep. that’s the average amount of sleep we’ve been able to squeeze in every night of tour. nine nights straight away from home, a gig almost every night. and of course, as physically exhausting as it was, it was a week that changed us and challenged ourselves as musicians.

8/12 - asbury park, nj

day one was our jersey hometown show in asbury. boy it was stressful at first, and absolutely sweltering outside from the humidity. i was so stressed because i was in a panic (when aren’t i lol) dealing with a sinus infection. anyone who knows me knows i’m a nervous wreck. i am a perfectionist, and i loathe not performing at my best; i try really hard to be perfect. i was flushing out my sinuses every hour and inhaling my humidifier that resembles a mini-nutri bullet if they came in white and also had a vaporizer tank inside. i looked pretty ridiculous sitting behind merch like this but i wasn’t taking any chances. i needed to take whatever measures i could possible to avoid a poor performance. there were a good amount of friends and people who came out to support us and i didn’t want to let them down. i was also really excited to see funeral attire, the band we went on tour with, and for people to see the progress we made in the month and a half we took to rigorously prepare for tour.

the asbury show ended up being really great, and a couple people said it was the best they’ve ever seen us. i felt overjoyed to hear such awesome feedback. i was also just really happy i could get our tourmates and close friends in funeral attire a show in asbury park. we sold out of pretty much all of our ramen shirts, which i was hoping to save for the rest of tour, but we ended up having enough to sell at least one ramen shirt a day to somebody. it was also really cool seeing like five people walking around the venue with ramen shirts on lmao

8/13 - long island, ny

and so our week of tour began- my sinus infection lessened but it persisted. the next day was long island, and we were looking forward to reuniting with our friends in i dreamt the sea who graciously put the show together for us. all of tour, whenever we played a bar with a juke box i spent $2 to play “smooth” by carlos santana featuring rob thomas and it was worth the allocated cost of $4 for all of tour. the show was a ton of fun. however i strangely sang worse than i did the day before- which was weird, and frustrating, since i felt the symptoms of my sinus infection less than i had in asbury. i was extremely upset. but i was surrounded by friends and i tried really hard to put on a brave face. all the bands we played with were super nice and liked us a lot, we made new friends and people who came out to the show dug us a lot too. we finally got to gig with u blue who are also a blue swan-eque band. so i guess even though i sucked, we did something right.

as we were getting ready to leave to go crash at my close friend jenni’s house in bellimore, our van’s battery died. bandago mentioned when we picked up our van earlier in the day that the battery had died the day before, but all they advised was that we drive the van around for a half hour or more once we began our rental. they didn’t mention anything about being wary of the battery beyond that. kelly and cassidy straight up saved us and gave us a super quick jump, and we were on our way finally. jenni was the first friend we crashed with and she really treated us to a nice sleep and some delicious bagels. so glad i could get to see her for the first time in a while too.

8/14 - nazareth, pa

the next day we headed out as quickly as possible to make our way to PA. something i feared on this tour was that we would lose our personal belongings, or have something stolen from us. this did happen - our tour photographer julie’s power strip was stolen in long island. fortunately, we were able to help her replace it. what had happened as we arrived to PA and stopped at walmart, was that i magically lost my phone somewhere between holding it in my hand walking out of the store, and sitting down to leave for our hotel. i was pretty much convinced it was gone or stolen. we ripped apart the entire van to try to find it, ran back inside walmart to see if i put it down somewhere, and even walked back to a spot we had the van parked in for a few minutes. i was convinced i was going to spend all of tour without a goddamn phone. and then, it occurred to me- maybe check… the garbage? and christ almighty. in a swath of basura juice, there was my phone. i ran back inside walmart to scrub the SHIT out of the case and carefully wash the phone itself and we finally made our way to check in at the days hotel in allentown, PA.

seriously- if you have a band of 5+ people, and/or if you are willing to spare the expense, buy hotel rooms for whatever nights you don’t have somewhere to crash for free any night of tour. i realize this isn’t feasible for 2+ week stints, or for people who literally do this for a living, but it was amazing to have beds to sleep in and free breakfast every morning for about $12-$15 a person. i actually don’t know if we would have been as healthy and happy without having that convenience. hotwire was how chris donis from funeral attire and i booked rooms, and the rates started at about $60 plus fees and tax per night. and it was fun crashing in hotels.

we met up with our friends in funeral attire and ethan from whittled down who was doing merch for most of the tour for a quick swim before the show in nazareth. we love hanging out with those guys. my obnoxious laugh is probably amplified by 10 dB just being around them. seriously almost pissed myself laughing in the pool because the guys were playing chicken and then ethan was doing kick flips into the pool with the life-saving device hanging by the pool the size of a massive surfboard. but POOL TIME was over around 3:30 pm because we had to get ready to head to the next venue, which was stehly’s bakery in nazareth a town over.

playing stehly’s was sick. small place, but they give each band member at least one free treat of some sort. i got a couple kiffles- little pastry dough roll-ups filled with fruit jellies- they were soooo cute and so good. i also caved to a helping of six potato and onion pierogies after the show. the only concerning thing was that after the first band jetsam played - awesome instrumental prog doom band - we soon realized that the show didn’t have a sound guy. there was a small PA set up, and we had mics and mic stands missing. the confusion pushed us quite a bit behind schedule but enough people at the show were resourceful and helpful enough to keep the show moving. i felt like i didn’t play an awesome set, and we also had some technical difficulties with our click track/Interlude mixer, but the funeral attire guys still had very nice things to say about us, so i trust them haha.

i was frustrated with how i totally blew my performance in long island, when we had a decent amount of people watching us, and then had a great show the next day. i actually don’t care about playing to a room of few people; i consider any opportunity to play to any amount of people of equal worth to another. so when i blow one show but not the other, i feel regret for not winning over potential fans we could have had, had i just been a better vocalist.

8/15 - philadelphia, pa

so then imagine my absolute blind rage, when we played the barbary in philly the next day, and we played our worst show all of tour. we were truly looking forward to this show and we were so devastated afterwards. my top most anticipated three shows were asbury, philly and cambridge. we love playing philly, we had some great bands on this bill we like a lot, and we actually had people coming out for us.

we were just making sure that the band on before us had almost all their gear off before we could load on, it was a really small stage. but the sound guy beckoned for us over the PA to start loading on regardless. we barely got a line check and it set the precedent for the whole set. ryan was starting to have volume issues with the volume levels on the mixer, and then because our individual levels were out of whack one of us would be louder than the other, or too loud to hear the drums. it was a straight up mess. and i didn’t know if we would win over anyone at the show anyways, but i just wanted to play well enough to have their respect. i put a lot of pressure on ourselves. i put a lot of pressure on myself.

when i have a bad set and i can’t deal with the disappointment i tend to shut down. even if i try my absolute best, even if people tell us we were still good - i just, i don’t believe them. it feels like they’re just being polite or i’m being lied to. it’s pretty pathetic of myself and sad; it’s something i need to work on. i actually wrote the small verse of lyrics in the intro of this tour about that. i just don’t think with all the experience of singing and performing i have that error is excusable anymore. after taking my best friend laura to her car i started chugging alcohol. i told myself before tour i wouldn’t drink until the last day to keep my throat in a healthy condition - whoops. i was so pissed i didn’t care and we had the next day off anyways; figured if i chugged water before bed i’d be fine. and i was right.

even when we had bad shows, my favorite perk each night was just getting to see funeral attire play every night. their song “joy” is one of my favorite all-time songs. the drowned god, blueroom and flowercrown were awesome too. oh! and a super fun thing we did was place enormous orders for cheesesteaks and had them delivered to the venue. we got guest lists this show and two free drink tickets each too. not gonna lie, it felt cool haha. we also explored a bit and FINALLY did our nine month-overdue interview with our friend brandon from audio addiction.

8/16 - day off at delaware water gap, days hotel in allentown, pa 

the next day, our day off, marked the halfway point for our tour. the original plan was hershey, but we did delaware water gap instead. it was a much better plan. we started the day with the whole tour together at cracker barrel. we then started to head up to delaware water gap, specifically milford, PA to check out hackers falls and milford beach. this day started out as absolute dog shit for me because i was dealing with a kinda heavy personal issue at home. didn’t anticipate i’d have anything to worry about in this regard, and my mental health has been worsening over the course of this year. so imagine at this point how hard it was for me to hide behind my hair and not be upset the whole morning. i’m also a horrible liar so i was fucked if i wanted to lie and say it was seasonal allergies fucking up my face lmfao

on top of that, we were super behind schedule for del water gap. we were all supposed to go jump in the waterfalls together, but we couldn’t find the specific waterfall we wanted to jump in. and the one we did find, the one i sort of swam in, it turned out that the trail to the bottom of the waterfall was closed off- which i believe had a more ideal swimming hole-type area. oh! and the worst part! we kept forgetting funeral attire had a commercial van for this tour. and one of the roads linked to where we were, PA-209, doesn’t allow commercial vehicles to travel through. so on top of me dealing with shit at home and now feeling like i was immensely inconveniencing my friends, i felt like an asshole. on my fucking day off lmao

but to my pleasant surprise it ended up being fine, and insanely fun. funeral attire didn’t get to chill at the waterfall with us but we made our way to milford beach and hung out there for the remainder of the day. thank god it was still open we didn’t get there until 5:30 pm. a bunch of us were swimming, couple of the guys just read or laid in the grass, and a few of the guys were throwing around a baseball. some of them swam across the river and back, the other side of the river was new jersey haha.

that night we got together to drink VERY heavily and hang out. that was probably one of my favorite highlights of the tour. at this point i was feeling much better. i shared a fat bottle of some pink moscato with julie. by the way, it was so sick having another girl on tour. not just because julie is talented but is also a great friend and was just an awesome presence to have for the week. her and donis helped me a lot on this day, if it wasn’t for them i don’t know i would have gotten through it.

my band partied hard for the first night all tour. funeral attire has the absolute strength and stomachs to drink most nights and then still play amazing sets every day- we’re not there at least not yet haha. holy fuck i made it halfway through this post and haven’t mentioned TIKI TIME??? TIKI TIM???

so funeral attire kept a couple sweet luau decorations from the long island venue hahaha and one of them said tiki time- can’t say i can truly encapsulate what tiki time is in a short explanation. tiki time was when we drank, but tiki time was also sort of the entire tour??? so i might be beat for explaining it well haha.

so we got super drunk and sang to old fueled by ramen/myspace emo bands, and my bandmate jaime and i played a four-way battle of magic the gathering with frankie and fez from funeral attire. i had my ass handed to me but i’m still learning anyways, it was fun regardless. it was really cool getting to know the guys in funeral attire better, i was already pretty close with donis but i feel like i got the chance to actually talk and hang with everyone.

arguably one of the funniest moments on tour - my bandmate joe got absolutely TRASHED. he somehow managed to get lost lmao or jaime had to escort him back to our hotel room late in the night. and even after joe was safe with us he woke up at 6 in the morning when housekeeping came walking in so he got up to shoo them away hahaha and THEN- he PANICKED because he realized he didn’t take a room key when he walked out the room and shut the door HAHA so he called ALL of us SEVEN times, he also accidentally called the jam room in howelll LMAO and finally as he’s on the phone with our friend ed, ed was just like “ask for help” so joe pulled aside an employee. and as that employee was approaching to help and joe turned the door knob, the door OPENED. the poor kid was sooo hung over the entire next day.

8/17 - brooklyn, ny

the second half of tour began with our drive out to brooklyn and nursing poor joe back to health. both bands arrived to brooklyn around the same time. we briefly went to a dog park, and then went to a big thrift shop where bren bought the sickest light pink leather jacket. after about an hour or so of walking around, we realized we were out of ideas of shit to do until showtime in about eight hours. we were all hungry as hell, but half of us wanted ramen or pizza. so we split up - my bandmates went to pizza, and julie and i went to ramen with funeral attire and ethan. we went to zamurai ramen which was absolutely fantastic. the prices were reasonable, too.

muchmore’s was a cool spot- a handful of my good friends came out too, it was awesome to see them and have some comfort from familiar faces. bartees cox jr was one of my most anticipated artists we were to play with on tour, and just, wow. originally his whole band stay inside was to play, but when he could only play solo i knew in my gut i still needed him on the show. what an exemplary musician of genuine talent, he truly stole the show. his voice, god. some people just sing, and some people make you feel by way of singing- i truly felt what he was singing. it’s people like him that inspire me.

well UNFORTUNATELY, i blew it at this show again too. and it felt horrible for me, considering my bandmates still played well and we promised we wouldn’t let the philly set happen again. i hate when i encourage everyone to play their best but can’t even set a good precedent for everyone. i was insanely upset, but i suppressed the urge to despair. 

after the show we crashed with jaime’s friends tim and erica who - holy shit - really pulled out all the stops for us. we had to pay $79 to park the van in the city, but even in a small lower manhattan apartment they were able to make us feel so goddamn comfortable. beds for everyone, a dinner table set for all of us and incredibly nice wine. i wasn’t going to eat but holy shit i COULD NOT turn down what tim made for us - this like, primavera white wine bowtie pasta and some DUMB thicc succulent pork. holy shit it was some of the best pork i have ever had. they also gave us breakfast for the next morning. what ANGELS

8/18 - manchester, nh

as we awoke we geared up for what would be our longest drive all tour - manhattan to manchester, new hampshire. we had at least six hours of driving to kill in time for load in at 5. we took this opportunity to watch selena- aka one of the best movies ever. the rain all day was real inconvenient, but we were excited to now be in funeral attire’s neck of the woods- new england that is. this also meant we were in the final stretch of tour; the dread was starting to set in.

this show ended up being one of our favorites. we had an enormous stage! it was fun to perform on and i felt like i personally had a great performance. it was cool to look around and see my bandmates looking super content and as into it as i was. the bands we played with were all awesome, we also played with a cool touring package (glass half empty and crafter). i was so excited to check out pinnacle, i really love their sound and their vocalist is so sick. damnit i just remembered i forgot to buy a shirt from pinnacle. I DIGRESS-

so funeral attire showed us mr. mac’s in manchester, a spot with over a dozen kinds of mac and cheese. i wanted to get the lobster one but i ended up getting jalapeño cheddar. woooOOOOOOOW it was GOOD - but of course i could only eat a little bit due to the fact i had to sing and also, milk products and my body are not a good mix anymore :—–) so i saved the rest for later and ate some while watching funeral attire’s set hahaha. julie got the carbonara which had like three different white cheeses and bacon, i almost got that one originally but we both just swapped bites. hiiiighly recommend going if you’re ever playing bungalow bar and grill or going to a show there!

8/19 - cambridge, ma

our second-to-last show was in cambridge, MA- it’s like boston’s brooklyn. rob kindly put us up for the night in his basement, and after we packed up we went to explore cambridge. to my very nice and pleasant surprise there was a GODDAMN H MART - an asian supermarket - with a food court. so we ate lunch there! i got a poké bowl, couple of the guys got ramen and sushi, and julie had this amazing dark curry. we also tried café nero, really great coffee/espresso spot that is also a chain and i straight up just had no idea. there was a bao place (super soft dumplings, kinda look like lil sandwiches) next door that julie and i grabbed baos to eat at. i got the MIT and- oh christ i forget the name of the other one- but the MIT had lamb, lettuce, sesame seeds, pickled onions and spicy mayo, and the other had most of the same ingredients but with crispy tofu. soooo delicious. the guys also bought a couple records at a shop across the street from the venue.

the venue we played was out of the blue too art gallery, an art gallery that hosts shows. AND THEY HAD AN ALASKAN MALAMUTE WALKING AROUND NAMED XO. the biggest malamute i’ve ever seen, xo was so cute. had colored feathers in her fur too. this show was funeral attire’s hometown show, so we met a lot of the musicians they’re most friendly with and they were all so kind. i wanted to get oldsoul on the show so badly and donis and jess from oldsoul made it happen, just such a wonderful band. i got hooked on em from their litter box sessions, jess has such an incredible voice. and the best part was they were all so nice, ugh. rainsound and newfield were awesome too, we got to talk to the rainsound guys a good amount. i didn’t do so hot this night - i hit a difficult note but still botched a bunch of other things - but honestly i was having such a great night so it didn’t even matter. and it was cool to see people who love funeral attire as much as i do singing the words.

8/20 - attleboro, ma

for the last night of tour frankie put us up, we left his place around noon to go back to café nero and get coffee and breakfast before checking in to our last hotel. by chance, hotelwire’s best deal was the holiday inn in mansfield, MA and holy SHIT- they upgraded our room so that we had a sofa with a pull out bed AND THE ROOM WAS MASSIVE. it was bigger than my boyfriend’s apartment in asbury park. two fluffy queen sized beds, that sofa bed, huge flat screen TV, spacious bathroom AND the sliding door in the room gave access right to the pool and jacuzzi area. we went for a quick dip in the jacuzzi and swam before we each had to quickly take real actually showers for the first time in two days. we managed to all somehow get ready within less than two hours and make it in time for load in at 5 pm, doors were at 6 pm

the last venue was cool - it was another art gallery, patterson creations. it was really nice and brand new inside. after both us and funeral attire loaded in we still didn’t have set time info, but going by the event page we assumed we at least were going on third - so minus jaime and ryan who already grabbed pizza across the street from the venue, we drove to north providence quickly to get hot dogs at olneyville new york system. it’s funeral attire’s favorite place to get hot dogs. we all pretty much ordered the way they do which is two hot dogs all the way, that comes with ground beef, mustard, celery salt and onions. i was hesitant to get two hot dogs but i was glad i did, because the one definitely wouldn’t have been enough. well, i WAS glad i did, until i got a very unpleasant phone call ha ha ha

jaime calls me as everyone is still finishing their food, and he says- “the door guy just approached me and said that… you guys need to get back here because we’re supposed to go on second.” holy shit i YELLED lmao. somehow, every other band but us and funeral attire got schedules, and we were supposed to go on at 7:05!!! it was 6:25 when jaime called me and we were twenty minutes away!!!

we quickly settled our bills and donis took me, my bandmates and julie back to the venue right away. we tried to get bands to switch but they couldn’t. thankfully the promoter was able to swap us with another band, so we had some additional time to get ready. i knew the promoter wouldn’t have done that to us out of malice, super nice guy. i had just wished we had the info prior to doors. we never go out for food if we know we have to play extremely soon. i don’t even eat less than three hours before i sing. i was losing my goddamn mind afraid of blowing our set on the last day of tour.

and i diiiiid ha ha ha as great as we started out, i blew almost the entire set. everyone also lost each other a couple times. because of the fear of fucking up royally we also completely abandoned the mixer for the interlude tracks, which we had to do several times over the course of tour. however usually we’d keep it hooked up so that ryan could hear the clicks, this time we didn’t use them at all but ryan’s tempo was still fine.

i was devastated our last set of tour went the way it did and i just couldn’t suppress the disappointment this time. i immediately inhaled a glass of wine at the bar and disappeared for a bit. as grateful and proud i was that we had just finished our first tour ever, i felt an overwhelming sense of failure. if i’m not consistently performing every night, am i fit to do this long term? am i costing the progress of our band? i worked so hard to be the best i could before we left. extra band practices and singing lessons. i did my best to proactively be aware of breathing technique while singing. is this just not in the cards for me? am i wasting my time and my bandmates time? it’s not a waste of time if it’s something i love, but am i an idiot to keep going? i know change doesn’t happen overnight, but i’ve been at this for so goddamn long now. even if i had confidence on stage to mask any evidence of error, my imperfect performance is still up for criticism. and that’s fair. i’m just afraid i’m sabotaging my own band.

after i was done cradling a box of tissues and watching newfield, i gathered my bandmates and my friend ben (we actually met on this site years ago lmfao he’s from worcester nearby the venue) to go get shit to mix alcohol with for after the show. i was also insanely depressed that funeral attire had to go home right after the show for work early the next day, so no post-show celebratory hangs. we had this stupid huge hotel room to have tiki time in and no funeral attire, we could have fit all twelve of us so comfortably.

but the saving grace of the night was singing flowers with funeral attire. what a FUn number but in all seriousness, my second favorite funeral attire song. their split with i dreamt the sea, the split that song is from, is sooo great. that perked me up a lot. 

after we parted ways with funeral attire we picked up a fat order of taco bell and went back to the hotel to eat, sad drink and watch the lion king. we spent the night sitting around in our new funeral attire merch just shooting the shit, and drinking until we fell asleep. we were easily dreading going back home, but hopeful for what the fall will bring for us as a band and to get back to EP 3 planning.

i know we’ll get to do this again. i just hate that i don’t know when right now. had some pretty bad financial scares on the road, and felt so tired i passed out in the van constantly, but i could sincerely do this forever.

i guess i also should maybe attribute some credit to the fact that chris donis and i booked this tour without any help from any booking company. no guarantees but we at least got something every night. i really don’t know what i would have done without him. i also realized maybe i have more ability as someone in the industry than i think. i feel slightly more knowledgeable now.

now that we know what it’s like to be on the road gigging every night, we can be sooo much more prepared next time. and i’m hoping to redeem myself, and i hope i can be better than ever. jeremiah was right when i called him last night crying - i’m an infinitely better vocalist than i was a year ago. i just hope our progress as a band now is enough to show people we have what it takes.

[coopdigitalnewsletter]

21 May 2019: Like a vending machine, pharmacies and plastic bags, Amazon invests in Deliveroo

Hello, this is the Co-op Digital newsletter - it looks at what's happening in the internet/digital world and how it's relevant to the Co-op, to retail businesses, and most importantly to people, communities and society. Thank you for reading - send ideas and feedback to @rod on Twitter. Please tell a friend about it!

Like a vending machine

"People are coming in, they're grabbing one thing, and then they leave. "People [are] ... kind of treating it like a vending machine." - Amazon’s New York Go store.

Obviously supermarkets have larger baskets/spend and less frequent visits, and convenience stores have smaller baskets/spend and more frequent visits. But maybe that inverse relationship between convenience (or speed) and transaction size extends much further. If you reduce much of the shopping friction (no checkouts etc) in a convenience store, maybe the basket size will happily drop so far that you don’t need a basket any more.

Technology has been great at splitting apart existing “bundles” into ever smaller atoms, and then replacing them with a new kind of bundle. Music: sales of songs (iTunes in the 2000s and MTV in the 90s) replaced sales of albums, but that spend is now moving to streaming (Spotify). The same thing is happening with TV at the moment (cable TV packages give way to streamed video on demand from Netflix). The same thing will happen with private transport: owning a car is inefficient for many travelers because 90% of the time the car sits outside a home, so it makes more sense to buy a ride instead (Uber).

Could you translate a pattern like that to grocery? Maybe Go means that the natural “basket size” is something that fits in your pocket. Maybe the next step is that the food somehow becomes a monthly subscription service. That’s an interesting idea, though hard to do with food because, unlike say digital content, the marginal distribution costs of food are not zero (as meal kit companies have been finding). But maybe you could imagine a Costco-like model: a monthly membership gets you access to the store, in which all of the goods are cheap and maybe some are free.

Elsewhere in retail:

McDonald’s locations to double as U.S. embassies in the most American thing that ever happened - why shouldn’t retail help provide valuable help and service to people?

Now its partnership with Ocado is ending, Waitrose plans to treble the size of its online sales to 1bn.

Richer Sounds founder hands over control of hi-fi and TV firm to staff.

Co-op CEO Steve Murrells has backed the recommendation from Tesco chief Dave Lewis that online retailers be charged a 2% sales levy to help pay for a reduction in business rates for high street stores.

Health: service design and plastic bags

Great piece about service design in the NHS - Mostly service design: the health and care edition:

“People in this sector talk a lot about “service redesign”. I find that odd because, on the available evidence, much of the service we have today was never consciously designed. It emerged through countless policy decisions and reorganisations.”

Boots has robots packing repeat prescriptions but they’ve introduced single-use plastic bags which some customers don’t like. “She said she intended to use a different pharmacy if Boots gave her another plastic bag.”

A paper bag generally signals “eco-friendly” compared to a plastic bag. The green footprint of packaging is sometimes counter-intuitive, and reasons for packaging choices aren’t always obvious (Boots said "the bags also need to be heat-sealed shut, which reduces the risk of products falling out of the bags in transit") so if Boots were replacing paper bags with plastic ones, maybe the bags could’ve had a message printed on them explaining the choice.

Elsewhere in pharmacies: Co-op’s Health new service helps people view, order and manage their NHS repeat prescription from their phone. Co-op will also trial self-serve lockers for prescription collection. (And how Co-op Digital ran design sprints to quickly answer critical business designs for a forthcoming feature.)

Amazon invests in Deliveroo: routes to market

Amazon is the lead investor in Deliveroo’s latest fundraising - Deliveroo will use the money to hire more tech people and open more dark “cloud” kitchens.

Takeaway marketplaces and food delivery are contested and overlapping these days: Just Eat started as a takeaway marketplace but now competes more directly with Deliveroo. Most of these companies seem to have increasing costs to acquire customers so it's often seen an attritional "scale wins" space. Amzn tried and later closed its Restaurants delivery service in London, which suggests that it felt investing in (or buying) Deliveroo would be a better route to the same goal.

Automated face recognition

A legal challenge to current police use of automated face recognition (AFR). The case is primarily about privacy: AFR collects data which can later be used to match or identify people, so you might think of it as being like non-consensual mass fingerprinting. There isn’t much if any regulation on use of facerec, so this may lead to some legislation. The wider questions with AFR are whether it works too well (surveillance society) or not well (tragedy of errors) and where the UK wants to be on the freedom/privacy/safety/control map.

San Francisco bans facial recognition technology - the first ban by a major city in the US.

Google vs Huawei (US vs China)

The US President amped up the trade disagreement with China. US firms cannot supply components to Huawei without export licences (or maybe they can). Google will withhold Android updates and Play store, Gmail, Goog maps etc from Huawei phones in future. This may hurt Huawei and help Samsung outside China, and fragment mobile phone OSes further in the long-term. It may also hurt Apple everywhere if China retaliates, and even dilute the strength of any anti-competitive scrutiny against Google in the US.

Everything else

Adobe tells users they can get sued for using old versions of Photoshop - this seems like a bad thing to say to your customers.

BT unveils new logo - its name in a circle - staff will get shares which is good. The new logo has a default social media user icon vibe to it, which may or may not fit your aesthetic.

“Dark magic”: a user successfully controlling lots of things on their mobile with Google voice and without losing their mind in frustration.

A 2019 survey of US consumers suggests that Walmart has 58.5m app customers. Amazon has 54.4m (surprising that it’s in second place?), Uber 52.1m, Starbucks 44.2m.

Netflix saves our kids from up to 400 hours of commercials a year (fewer ads, yay) though this is also because the average 6-11 year old is spending over 1,450 hours a year watching television (erm).

Co-op Digital news

Co-op health: running a design sprint across disciplines.

The Co-op Group annual general meeting was on Saturday. The motion results.

Events

Public events:

Ladies that UX - Tue 21 May 6pm at Federation House.

User Research North: An evening with Jared Spool - Tue 28 May 6.30pm at BookingGo, 35 Fountain Street M2 2AN.

Open:Data:Night Data Viz - Tue 28 May 6.30pm at Federation House.

Freelance Friday social - Fri 31 May 5pm at Common, Edge Street, Manchester

Internal events:

Co-operate show & tell - Wed 22 May 10am at Fed House 6th floor.

Mental wellbeing drop-in - Thu 23 May 12pm at Fed House 5th floor.

Data management show & tell - Thu 23 May 3pm at Angel Square 13th floor.

Membership show & tell - Fri 24 May 3pm at Fed House 6th floor.

What has the web team been up to - Tue 28 May 1pm at Fed House 5th floor.

Food show & tell - Tue 28 May 1.30pm at Fed House 5th floor.

Health show & tell - Tue 28 May 2.30pm at Fed House 5th floor.

Data ecosystem show & tell - Wed 29 May 3pm at Angel Square 13th floor.

Membership show & tell - Fri 31 May 3pm at Fed House 6th floor.

Delivery community of practice meet-up - Mon 3 Jun 1.30pm at Fed House.

Funeralcare show & tell - Tue 4 Jun 12pm at Angel Square 12th floor.

CMO CRM show & tell - Tue 4 Jun 2pm at Angel Square 13th floor.

More events at Federation House - and you can contact the events team at  federation.events@coopdigital.co.uk. And TechNW has a useful calendar of events happening in the North West.

Thank you for reading

Thank you, clever and considerate readers and contributors. Please continue to send ideas, questions, corrections, improvements, etc to the newsletterbot’s flunky @rod on Twitter. If you have enjoyed reading, please tell a friend!

If you want to find out more about Co-op Digital, follow us @CoopDigital on Twitter and read the Co-op Digital Blog. Previous newsletters.

[watercolorjen]

This year The Philadelphia Flower show is doing something new. They are holding a photo contest. I heard about this contest last summer through my nephew who works for the Flower Show. Knowing how much I love to shoot photographs of my flowers, Andrew thought I would be interested in entering.

After he sent me the link to the contest and I entered six of my photographs in three of the six categories.  Knowing that the judging and notification of finalists was around the same time I would be on a Panama Canal cruise with a friend of mine, I decided to get prints made of all the photos I entered. Although there was no fee to enter, it was up to finalists to mount each selected photograph on black foam core, trim it to size and then mail it to the contest coordinator by Feb. 25th. I though I had a slim chance of having any of my photos selected but, just in case, I would be prepared if I was pleasantly surprised.

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When I returned home to PA on Feb 4th, I spent a couple of days deleting emails. While at this task one afternoon I received a text from Andrew

“Congratulations! You made the cut for category 195-Avant-Garde at the Flower show.”

I did? Wow!

Turns out I had accidentally deleted the notification emails. I went back and scoured through my trash bin and found all 3. Two were rejections but sure enough, there was one –

“Hello Jennifer Congratulations!”

This is where Gremlins took over what should have been a relativity easy process and turned it into an absolute fiasco.  I’m talking about the Gremlin that ate after midnight, and got wet. Not the cute fuzzy Gremlins.

I quickly opened the email and I was crestfallen. Wouldn’t you know the one photo that was accepted was also the only print  that looked terrible. Either I provided Shutterfly with a crappy file or they printed it badly. In any case, I had to have this photo reprinted and rushed to me so I could get it mailed out by the deadline stated in the email of February 15th! This didn’t leave me much time.

For 12 years or so I was a certified picture framer. I even had my own shop at one point. So I have a shops-worth of framing supplies and equipment in my basement. While I waited for the rush delivery of my accepted photograph, I rooted around in my boxes of mat boards hoping to find a piece of black foam core. Wouldn’t you know  I have several sheets of white foam core and hundreds of mat boards but no black foam core.  Luckily, my local Walmart had some black foam core and spray adhesive.

I was nervous unwrapping the photograph when it arrived, fearful that it would look dull and out of focus like the first copy. If that were the case I wouldn’t be able to send it. I would have to withdraw. But no, it looked great! I got it flattened out and ready to mount.

While looking for the foam core in my studio, I too was searching for my heavy metal utility knife. It was one that had belonged to my dad and I had used it for years. I couldn’t find it anywhere. But my husband & I keep a yellow plastic one in the kitchen that we use for opening packages.  I believe the blade in this knife had never been changed. It wouldn’t cut butter let alone trim this photograph so I replaced the blade.

And, I promptly poked my finger.Blood was everywhere!

I wrapped my finger in a paper towel while I trimmed the mounted photo. Luckily no blood got on my picture, but the yellow cover of the utility knife looked like it had been lifted from a crime scene!

Off to the post office I went, finger now wrapped in a band-aid. As I drove into the parking lot, I couldn’t believe my eyes. It was packed with cars. I swear it looked like 3 days before Christmas and everyone in town had forgotten to mail their packages! Once inside the tiny room, I found a line of about 10 people. I busied myself finding an envelope big enough for the photo and I finished taping the cardboard around my photograph. After about twenty minutes, it was my turn.

“This has to arrive by Friday 15th. ”

“Not a problem”.

I included a self-addressed stamped envelope, sealed up the whole package and finally breathed a sigh of relief when my photo was among the huge stack of mail collecting behind the counter.

Friday night I’m watching TV and decide to check my email. I see an email from the contest coordinator:

Jennifer,  I received your beautiful photograph today and unfortunately two corners are badly bent! Can you please reprint, matte and send to me again ASAP! Unfortunately I can not pass this for the show. Your deadline to have to me is no later than Feb 22! If you can not make this happen I will need to know ASAP so I can let the alternate know.

Thank you and I’m so sorry. Next time please use a much thicker, cardboard material to support the photo in shipping.

Sally

  Oh no! This is Friday the 15th. I am supposed to leave for Florida on Wednesday the 20th. Panic sets in. Can I get a new photo printed, shipped to me, mounted and mailed to her in a week? Shutterfly was giving me a guaranteed delver date of Feb. 20th. It could work but I would have to have the supplies on hand when I arrived in the evening and rush the picture to the post office the next day mailing it next-day-air. I could do it but I would need help.

I called my husband and asked him, if needed, could he could go to the Walmart near us in Florida and get a piece of black foam core. ”

Yeah, no problem. Just let me know. I can go tomorrow.”

I also sent a text to my sister & brother-in-law asking if there was any place around here that could print the photo while I wait? No sense having to pay for rushed delivery if I can take care of this locally.

Turns out our local FedEx does do printing! They do what’s called-Personal Prints up to 8×10 and they also do Poster Sized prints starting at 16×20.

Seriously?

I bet you can’t guess what size my photo needed to be.

Right, 11×14. And, they don’t offer 11×14.

Back to the Shutterfly rushed delivery option.

My sister in law suggested I have the print sent to her, she would mount it and get it mailed for me. I thought about it for a minute and decided it’s too stressful a task for someone who has never spray-mounted before. Also, that utility blade does like to draw blood. I declined that offer and, afraid I was going to lose the guaranteed delivery from Shutterfly of Feb.20,  I quickly placed a super-rush delivery with Shutterfly and I decided to go with my original plan of having the print sent to Florida. I could do the work when I arrived.

Gremlins don’t like getting wet and my plan was beginning to feel like a wash out.

Monday the 18th was Presidents Day & there is no mail. Does Shutterfly use regular USPS, UPS or FedEx to deliver? couldn’t remember. Did their guaranteed delivery take this holiday into account?

A giant snow storm is forecast for Wednesday. Of course it is. It always snows when I go to Florida in the winter. it doesn’t matter what day I decide to fly down, it’s going to snow and I’m going to have to reschedule my flight.

I kept a close eye on the tracking of my Shutterfly order and the weather forecast. Both were dismal. Shutterfly’s guaranteed delivery of Feb. 20th was changed to Feb. 20-21st.

No, no, no. This is no good. There is no way I can get my mounted picture delivered to the contest coordinator by the 22nd if I don’t receive it by the 20th.

The snow storm forecast went from bad –

‘Snow and ice from Tuesday 19th through 20th’

to, hey wait this might work

‘Snow starting Wednesday night through Thursday’

to I’m doomed and probably won’t be leaving Wednesday after all-

‘Snow staring early Wednesday 6-8 inches with ice in the afternoon’

Oh great. Plan B. Marcus isn’t going to like plan B.

Turns out Shutterfly uses UPS and delivered my photo on Monday 18th. Really? I wish I had known they were going to be able to deliver it early. I could have mounted it and and mailed it out in plenty of time. No need to worry about snow or Plan B.

Plan B, as it turns out didn’t work out as expected.

On Valentines day Marcus calls me from Walmart to tell me they only have white foam core.

“Really, oh ……! OK, OK, you will have to find a Michael’s or a frame shop and get a piece from there. ”

I texted him the addresses of Michael’s stores near us in Florida. Turns out there are three pretty close by our apartment. He got two pieces ‘Just in case” also was able to get new utility knife and some sturdy cardboard. Yay!

When I saw that the photo would be delivered on Monday the 18th I suggested he go ahead and mount it and get it in the mail.

“I may not make it down in time because of the snow.”

Always the optimist, “Na, you’ll be okay, I’ll wait.”

Today Feb. the 19th, I called Marcus telling him it’s looking more and more like i’m not going anywhere on Wednesday. There is already a ‘No fee for rescheduling canceled flights’ notice on Jet Blue’s website and no snow is falling…yet.  Anyway, I walked him through how to spray mount a photograph and trim it. I suggested he do a practice magazine cover or something to get the feel for it and call me back. He agreed to give it a go.

“I can’t get the page to stick.”

That’s weird.

“You may not have used enough spray stuff. Try again while I have you on the phone.” he put me on speaker phone.

I hear the spray can over the phone and then he says “It stuck that time. I think I used too much, there is a sticky puddle outside the photo.”

“Try another page and don’t hold the can so close. 3-4 inches away should be fine.”

This worked fine.

“My fingers are full of glue.”

“You can get that off with alcohol or acetone.”

“Okay that worked but I’m afraid I’m going to get fingerprints all over your photograph.”

“You’ll be fine. You just washed your hands in alcohol. There’s no oil left to leave prints.”

Now I suggested he try trimming the foam core to get the feel of it.

“I don’t want to cut these out because I’ll get glue all over the ruler. then when I trim the photo, it will get glue all over it.”

I suggested he do a practice cut on the extra piece of foam core that doesn’t have any glue on it yet. I could hear him through the phone grunting and groaning as he tried. It didn’t sound like it was going well at all.

“Marcus, come here. Stop. You’re too nervous and getting too worked up. Something will go wrong because you are too worried about messing it up. Take the photograph and the black foam core back to Michael’s and ask them to dry mount it for you while you wait.”

“They can do this?”

“Yes. they do it all the time.”

“What if they mess it up? You only ordered one copy. What happens if they mess it up?”

“How about we don’t create another problem before we have to? If that happens, then I email the coordinator telling her Michael’s ruined the photo & I will not be able to send my photo. I’ll be screwed. but, this isn’t going to happen. Relax.”

I’m happy to report that Michael’s broke the Gremlin’s spell over this endeavor.  My photo is mounted, trimmed and wrapped in heavy cardboard. The gal even adhered the required information on the back of the photograph. It’s ready to go into the mail and will arrive by Friday.

This free submission contest has cost me somewhere in the neighborhood of $100 so far. I wonder how much rushed delivery costs?

I’m not saying I’d like to go through all of this stress again. This hasn’t been fun. But somehow it’s worth all of this to have my photograph among the other finalists in the Philadelphia Flower Show! Maybe it will win a ribbon!

If you go, send me a photograph of the display. Unfortunately, after all of this, I won’t be able to make the show this year. When I finally do get out of town after the snow, I will be testing out my new camera on a much anticipated Galapagos Island trip!

ArtGiftsEtcGroup@yahoo.com

(https://www.facebook.com/jennifer.wheatleywolf)

Enjoy the show! Get your tickets here

“Your Entry Has Been Accepted!” or ‘What can go wrong will go wrong’ This year The Philadelphia Flower show is doing something new. They are holding a photo contest. I heard about this contest last summer through my nephew who works for the Flower Show.

[ncmagroup]

With the outbreak of the novel coronavirus, the world is in the midst of what could turn out to be one of the biggest pandemics of the century—or, at the very least, a disease epidemic, unlike anything the U.S. has seen in over a decade. And it’s hitting people hard where they spend a huge chunk of their time: at work.

With massive industry conferences like South By Southwest in Austin canceling at the last minute, mandatory travel bans, quarantines, and work-from-home policies in force, companies are faced with balancing the health and safety of their employees with the need to keep the lights on.

“There are no rulebooks for this kind of stuff,” says John Bremen, managing director of human capital and benefits for advisory firm Willis Towers Watson. “This is really a new and evolving situation.”

Now that worldwide cases of COVID-19 are in the six figures and disease experts are warning the elderly and immune-compromised to avoid travel and crowds, we heard from workplace experts about the tough choices employers must make in the midst of the turmoil. Here, we answer some of the most asked questions about how to deal with a highly contagious virus at large.

How do you decide whether to place travel bans or have employees work from home?

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) and state health departments continue to offer guidance on this for employers, but this will also largely depend on where you operate and who your employees are. If you run a business with younger employees in a state with limited or no cases of COVID-19, you don’t need to send workers home immediately.

That said, if there are COVID-19 cases in your area, you have older or immune-compromised employees, or if your workers have traveled to a high-risk area, it may be smart to have employees work from home if they can. Nearly half (46%) of organizations are implementing remote work because of the epidemic, according to a recent survey from Willis Towers Watson.

If you’re going to encourage employees to work remotely, your IT departments should be prepared to provide laptops to those who need them or to set up technology so employees can access company systems from home. “The CDC and the state departments of health are trying to avoid large groups of people,” says Regina Morek, a human resources consultant in Ithaca, New York. “Employers might be testing out ways they can have core staff—not a large group—at the workplace and then others working from home.”

Regarding travel, many major employers (Amazon, Apple, Google) have restricted non-essential travel and have banned all travel to countries that have been hardest hit by COVID-19, such as China, Italy, South Korea, and Iran. Some 55% of companies are encouraging virtual meetings to decrease travel, and 47% have canceled planned conferences in certain countries, according to the Willis Towers Watson data. This has already had an impact on industries supported by business travel, such as hotels, event and conference planning, trains, and airlines.

And of course, it goes without saying that you should encourage all employees to stay home if they have any symptoms of illness.

How should you communicate company policy and developments to employees?

Employers should be using any and all channels to keep workers updated. “In times like this, I think overcommunicating is absolutely fine,” Morek says. She recommends communicating via email, via phone for those employees who don’t use their email or who don’t have access to email, and creating a special area on your website or intranet for COVID-19 employee updates.

Another option: Create a dedicated phone number employees can use to find out the status of the workplace. “Supervisors must listen to employees and allay fears, as best they can, by conveying knowledge and facts,” Morek says.

That goes for more general COVID-19 information as well. More than half (59%) of companies have organized communication campaigns geared toward preventing the spread of the disease. (Hint: Wash your hands.)

How should you handle absences due to COVID-19 quarantines or school closures?

How companies manage worker absences will vary depending on that employee’s vacation allotment, their duties, and their benefits in general. If a worker gets quarantined, for instance, but they can still work from home, they may not have to take any vacation or sick leave.

Some companies are also pledging to continue to pay hourly workers their regular wage even if their hours are reduced due to COVID-19. Uber is offering drivers and delivery workers 14 days of paid sick leave if they’re quarantined or ill due to the coronavirus, Olive Garden pledged this week to offer all hourly workers 40 hours of annual paid sick leave, and Walmart will provide two week’s paid sick leave without using their existing sick leave.

For employers of workers in the service, food, delivery or healthcare industries where human contact is necessary and/or the work can’t be done remotely, you must review PTO and sick leave policies. Workers are grappling with tough choices, trying to decide between working during the outbreak or losing pay if they don’t have paid sick leave.

In a recent Wall Street Journal report, HR consulting firm leader Arthur J. Gallagher said he anticipates companies will be willing to adjust their PTO policies due to the talent shortage many are experiencing. “With the tight labor market, most employers do not want to have to replace existing employees,” he said. “I do suspect we will see an increase in flexibility,” he said.

“Companies are trying to do what’s in the best interest of their employees,” Bremen says. “For some, [absence might be treated as] paid time off, for some it might be sick time, and for some, it might be short-term disability leave.”

You’ll want to be clear about your policies and what will happen if workers must go home for extended absences. “Does it qualify as paid family leave?” says Matthew Burr, a human resources consultant in Elmira, New York. “Are we paying people to try to get them through the hard times or is it unpaid? Are we accepting doctor’s notes? All that stuff needs to be hammered out.”

What policies and procedures should you employ to keep business running while following necessary protocols?

If you don’t already have a contagious disease policy or business continuity plan, now might be a great time to create one. “If employers neglected to implement a contagious disease policy during the West Nile or Ebola virus outbreaks, the severity of the coronavirus is all the impetus companies need to develop a written policy,” says Melissa Gonzalez Boyce, JD, legal editor of human resources site XpertHR. “Written policies help prevent the spread of disease by creating work rules that promote safety through infection control and minimize the negative impact of sudden emergencies.”

Likewise, a business continuity policy will guide business operations when decisions must be made quickly in a chaotic atmosphere. It might also outline a contingency plan for vital duties and functions if an important employee (or team) is too sick to work for an extended period.

It’s also important to practice and encourage empathy at a time of uncertainty and stress. This is especially true since fear about COVID-19 can lead to social stigma toward certain people or places. It can also result in stigma or avoidance of people who have been quarantined for the disease.

Employers can discourage negative behavior or beliefs with the following practices:

Maintain the privacy of those who may be seeking healthcare for coronavirus

Share accurate information and correct misinformation about how the virus spreads

Speak out against negative behaviors, including negative information on social media about people or groups of people

Share images responsibly and ensure that they do not reinforce stereotypes

Thank healthcare workers and responders

Will this send us into a recession?

It’s early days for recession talk—and this situation is a new one for most players. “There are so many unknowns, and I think it’s very difficult to predict,” Bremen says. “I think everybody certainly hopes there’s a speedy resolution to it, and I think everybody would like to get back to business as usual. The question is how long it will be until that happens.”

In terms of government response, there have been talks of everything from a payroll tax cut to assistance to hourly workers, which indicates that these recession fears are felt broadly and different agencies are trying to mitigate damage and prepare for economic impacts.

In the meantime, keep in mind that recent job numbers were good and unemployment levels are still at record lows. “The markets are in panic mode right now, but I don’t think there are long-term repercussions,” Burr says. “The economy’s been doing very well. We’ve got to take it day by day and not overreact to some of the coverage.”

Where can you get the best, most up to date info about COVID-19?

To reduce the spread of the virus, the WHO and CDC suggest the following precautionary measures:

Stay home when you are sick.

Wash your hands often with soap and water for at least 20 seconds.

Avoid close contact with people who are sick.

Avoid touching your eyes, nose, and mouth.

Cover your cough or sneeze with a tissue, then throw the tissue in the trash.

Clean and disinfect frequently touched objects and surfaces using a

regular household cleaning spray or wipe.

If you have fever, cough or difficulty breathing, see medical care early.

Stay informed and follow the advice given by your healthcare provider.

For the latest updates, here are the best resources for information on the coronavirus:

CDC page on Coronavirus Disease 2019

Interim Guidance for Businesses and Employers

Cleaning and Disinfection Recommendations

Comprehensive and Updated FAQs for Employers on the COVID-19 Coronavirus(Fisher Phillips, labor and employment attorneys)

State Departments of Health

  Has your workplace been impacted by coronavirus? We’d love to hear from you.

    Go to our website:   www.ncmalliance.com

Coronavirus at work: how companies are responding to Covid-19 With the outbreak of the novel coronavirus, the world is in the midst of what could turn out to be one of the biggest pandemics of the century—or, at the very least, a disease epidemic, unlike anything the U.S.